Where Laments the Bound and Bargained Soul

by Bluecho4

Summary:

"There does Elster find him. There does she see him, and in seeing does he know her heart, her mind. Her price."

In which Elster breaks her promise, and makes a deal with Vashtorr the Arkifane, Master of the Soul Forges. To save herself and the woman she loves from the hell of their making. A bargain Elster will be paying for 10,000 years.

For in the grim darkness of the far future, there is also love.

Chapter 1: A Pact Forged In Iron

"You'll destroy...everything."

LSTR-512 waded across the shallow scarlet sea. Hand clutched over aggrieved eye socket, that wept oxidizing fluid down her cheek and onto her chest.

No time for this, she thought. She's waiting for me.

She passed between geometric megalithes jutting from the scarlet. Passed her fallen and failed counterparts, that slumped broken against the structures.

Elster's head craned up to see it, towering above it all: the crashed Penrose 512.

The damaged replika scaled the wall, her red-drenched mechanical hooves nearly slipping on the metal slope leading to the hatch.

The levers, already half in position, beckoned her again.

CLUNK. Hssss.

Inside the ship, Elster's internal geiger counter assaulted her with the telltale crackle of radiation. The filthy environs were allowed to fester, in a time seemingly long past, when maintaining cleanliness fell by the wayside compared to simple survival. A battle that was, itself, lost.

Elster stumbled, steadying herself against the metal wall. Her head swam. She was losing so much fluid.

Hurry, hurry, she thought, rubbing her aching eye. The door slid open at her approach. Despite herself, Elster paused.

There she was. The cryogenic pod's open lid revealing her. Elster's crewmate. Elster's lover. Elster's goddess.

Ariane Yeong.

Remember our promise.

Elster shuffled forward, bent down, and leaned heavily on the rim of the cryo pod. She kissed the white-haired gestalt woman on the forehead.

Ariane's eyes cracked open, red and out of focus. Parched lips, gaunt cheeks, sunken eyes. Terribly dehydrated, despite immersion in fluids.

Even here, bandaged and worn down to nothing, Ariane was the most beautiful thing Elster had ever seen.

"...El...ster..." the gestalt whispered, weakly.

"I'm here," Elster said, bending over her.

"...pro...pro...mise..."

"I know," Elster gasped, clamping her mouth shut a moment to stifle a sob. "I know. I..."

"...El...ster..." Ariane breathed, delirious. The barest effort was made to tilt her head in the replika's direction. "...pro...mise..."

Elster sniffed, rubbing her injured eye. She forced herself into a crouch, then reached her hands out.

Just have to do it, she thought. Then it'll all be over.

Her hands reached. They trembled. She felt the phantom pain of blood draining from veinless fingers. Her heart raced.

They reached towards Ariane's pale, slender neck.

It'll all be over. Her pain will end. Ariane.

Elster's fingers touched that neck, that her lips had kissed countless times before. Never enough times.

The cold of the flesh jolted through synthetic touch receptors.

"Ah!"

Elster's hands drew back in an instant. She lost balance, and had to steady herself on the lip of the pod.

"...El...ster..." Ariane whined, weakly reaching out. Her eyes were glassy and half-lidded. Her hand groped blindly.

Elster panted, quick and heavy. Eyes wide. Heart pounding. After a second, she took her lover's hand. "I..."

"...please...you...promised..."

"...I..."

Elster couldn't stop shaking.

"...it hurts..." Ariane whined, shutting her eyes. "...please...make it stop..."

"I will! Just..."

Elster pulled the gestalt's hand to her lips and kissed. Another place she never kissed enough. Another place she'd never kiss again.

"...please..." Ariane whispered.

Elster gulped, carefully placing the woman's hand back in the cryo fluid. She leaned forward. Her hands were trembling even harder than before. They wouldn't stop. Neither would her heart.

She reached for Ariane's neck again. They brushed against a lock of alabaster hair that floated on the surface of the fluid. Hair that kept Ariane apart from other gestalts. Hair that made her all the more beautiful, because it was hers. Just as she was Elster's.

Elster took a second to realize, as she reached to encircle the gestalt's neck, that she held her breath. She had to force herself to breathe. She needed all the strength she could.

Her fingers caressed the neck. Felt the rush of air in and out. Felt the pulse that stubbornly refused to yield. Elster's fingers tightened.

"...Elster..." Ariane whispered, glassy eyes looking up into space. "...th...thank..."

Ariane smiled weakly. "...thank...you...Ellie..."

Elster's heart jumped.

"No!" she cried, violently pulling away. She nearly fell backwards to the floor. She had to grab the pod rim to avoid falling over.

I can't do it.

Ariane stirred, eyes blinking, straining against even the room's feeble light. She tried to sit up. Failed. Her head leaned back. "...Elster..." she whined, grimacing in pain.

"I can't do it!" Elster cried. Sweat and oxidizing fluid poured down her face. "I can't..."

Her lips furrowed in pain. "I...I just...can't..." She knelt on her knees, and cupped her face in her hands. Gasped in anguish.

There was silence.

"...please..." Ariane said, after a moment. "...El...ster..."

Elster slammed a clenched fist on the rim of the pod. "It's not fair!" she sobbed. Her teeth were barred, as if she could overpower her pain with rage. "It's not fair!"

"..." Ariane was growing delirious. Unaware of what was going on. Her eyes narrowed to bare slivers. "...El..."

The replika tilted her head up and cried, eyes clasped shut. "Please! There has to be another way!"

"What if there was?"

Elster's eyes shot open. Her head darted around, one good eye seeking the source of the noise.

It seemed to come from everywhere, and no where. A voice like the rumble of a furnace, the dripping of oil, and the slicing of steel on steel. "What would you do, pseudo-fleshling? What would you pay, child of artifice? What price would you pay, to save her life?"

"W-whose there?" stuttered Elster, whipping her head back and forth. Hair clung to her scalp and shed beads of sweat with the motion. Her hand reached down and grasped for her gun, on instinct. "Show yourself!"

"If you insist."

The Penrose shuddered, walls moaning. Feeble overhead lights flickered. Somewhere below, and all around, creaking and pattering could be heard.

Elster froze, eye darting around. Engineer's ears tried to deduce the cause of the sound, the nature of the turbulence. They failed.

Then, from the grated floor, they came. Slowly at first, such that Elster barely noticed the metallic glint. Then, all at once. Silver nematodes, erupting from every mechanical orifice. Writhing liquid metal worms, gliding over surfaces like water on polished glass.

"Ah! Ah!" Elster screamed. All composure spent. Only fear remained.

"...El...ster..." Ariane moaned, some cognizance responding to the noise. Her glassy eyes, half-lidded.

The replika watched as rivulets of silver crawled up the walls. Invading machines, plumbing outlets and cracks. They poured into and out of the steel frame of the room. Nay, the ship entire. Elster jolted as metal began to groan and bend.

When the first dislodged bolt landed on her face, she snapped from her terrified reverie. "Araine!" she cried, reaching down and picking up her lover. The pale gestalt was so horribly light, and was limply pulled into Elster's arms. "Ariane!"

"...ugh..." Ariane groaned, unthinking. She pressed her face into Elster's chest.

The ceiling buckled, then tore. Ungodly screeching, metal pulled from metal.

Elster doubled over, shielding Ariane from a shower of metallic debris with her own aching body. "Hang on!"

The tearing, screeching continued, louder. Elster thought the entire ship was coming apart, yet dared not look up.

Then, with a final moaning and creaking, the roof stopped. Elster opened her eye, and realized the dark room was now bathed in light.

She looked up at a vault of stars.

The roof had been peeled away like an orange rind, exposing the cryo chamber to the outside. Silver nematodes wriggled along the ragged edges. Wires alighted with sparks. Pipes disgorged unnameable fluids like opened veins.

Elster blinked, then turned back down with alarm. "Ariane, are you okay?" she said, hurried.

"...ugh..." Ariane groaned, eyes shut. Her arms, perhaps reflexively, reached around to hug her lover weakly.

"It's going to be okay, Ariane," Elster said into her ear. She kissed the top of the gestalt's head. Her heart raced. "Everything's...ah!"

A crack of thunder brought Elster's attention back to the sky. Her eye widened harder as she saw the vault of stars give way to a growing cloud of smog. Dirty brown, oily black, sickly green. Cracked by spiderwebs of unnatural black lightning.

"Oh...oh god..." Elster said, clutching her lover tight.

Smog consumed the sky, bathing the world in darkness. From its mass blinked first one light, then, two, then three. Two atop, one below. Not the sterile triumvirate of stars that was the symbol of the Eusan Nation and the Empire. But warm yellow and orange, like incandescent bulbs.

No, like the fires of a furnace, peeking through the gloom.

The lights grew larger. Elster realized with horror they were eyes and a mouth. This was not Pareidolia. It was simply the undeniable truth.

She stared into those eyes, and the eyes stared back. The mouth spake.

"Replika model LSTR, unit Five One Two." It rumbled, impossible not to hear. "And of course, Ariane Yeong. Allow me to make your acquaintance."

Elster whipped the pistol from her holster and pointed it at the sky. It trembled in her hand. "W-who are you!?" she yelled, face contorted in barely leashed terror. If not for Ariane, she would crumble right then and there. "What are you!?"

"Good," rumbled the voice, "I have acquired your undivided attention. Know that I am Vashtorr, the Arkifane. Dark Artificer, Master of the Soul Forges, Daemon Lord of Chaos, and God in the Machine."

Elster trembled still. Her mouth gaped.

She didn't know what answer she expected. It was not that.

"Is...is this real?" Elster said, lips curling up in the beginnings of a maddened grin. Her brows, sweat, and shaking body betrayed her fear still. "Am I dreaming?"

"Does it matter?" Vashtorr said.

Elster gulped, then jabbed into the air with her pointing gun. "What do you want?"

"To bargain."

The lights grew larger, the presence closer. Elster's heart raced as she began to see, through the smog and gloom, the terrible contours of a face only distantly related to humanity. Harsh, boney cheeks. No nose. Great horns that curved backwards. Eyes and mouth that were unchanging openings into a firey furnace, complete with a grill on its mouth that resembled teeth. The face, swathed in smog, was gigantic on a scale the replika could scarcely comprehend.

"...bargain?" whispered Elster, one hand cradling Ariane's head. She felt the gestalt's heartbeat, heard her ragged breathing.

"It is a terrible fate befallen you, LSTR Five One Two," Vashtorr rumbled. Heat wafted like a stoked flame from its mouth with every utterance. "A cycle you cannot break, a trap you cannot thwart. A cage without walls, a riddle with no good answer. A cycle of ceaseless anguish, your eternal prison. I have watched it play out many, many times.

"You have bent the full weight of your mind to solving the riddle, to finding your woman and keeping her too." Vashtorr allowed a moment's pause. "...is it not so?"

Elster gulped. She looked down at Ariane. Her eyes clasped shut. Was she passed out? Or merely so exhausted, she couldn't muster the energy to whisper her name?

"...what does it matter to you?" Elster said, summoning her courage. She held her gun steady, though her arm was growing tired. It was an insane hope, that a gun could hurt a god. Or a creature that could passably pretend to be. But she'd never let a monster get Ariane. Nothing could disarm her in this.

"What if I said," Vashtorr rumbled, "I could turn your unsolvable problem into a problem you could solve?" It drew closer still. "What if I said I could save her."

The gun tumbled from Elster's hand. Her limb dropped limply to her side.

She stared dumbly. "You...you could do that?"

"She and you, fleshling and pseudo-fleshling, are dying," Vashtorr said. "The one you love, whom you have sacrificed everything to protect, to reach. Over, and over, and over again. It is a rigged game. If you yet live and breathe, the urge to rankle at your fate doubtless begins to swell. To curse the dancing divines, and reorder their mechanistic cosmos to your design. Do you deny this, pseudo-fleshling?"

Elster breathed heavily, cradling her lover. She pressed her face into her hair, then regretted it immediately. Some of her scarlet oxident marred the pure white locks. Her eye looked up at the self-professed daemon.

"I can save her," Vashtorr said, mechanistic voice lilting upward, as close to cooing as was possible for one so unnatural. "Save both of you. Grant you new vitality, banish your ills. Injuries, mended. Cancers, erased. I can grant you release from this accursed cage of time, for limitations temporal bind not one such as I.

"You can be together again. Forever."

"You said it was a bargain," said Elster, stroking gestalt's head. Ariane moaned beneath the replika's fingers.

"A contract. A pact. Tit for tat. Unlike other daemons, you will find I do not deceive, trick, or lie. My contracts are very straightforward."

"To save Ariane," Elster said. She was only slightly afraid. Her heart raced from cautious excitement. "To save Araine and I. So we can live together again." She stared up intensely with her remaining eye. "What do you want in exchange?"

"SOULS."

"Mine?" Elster said, frowning. "Hers?"

"Insignificant, and unneeded. Though the agreement will, by needs, necessitate you place yourself in my hands, for the duration of our contract. No, I demand other souls. A plurality of souls."

"How many?" Elster ventured, gulping.

[This Page Intentionally Left Blank]

Elster shuddered. It was a very large number of souls.

"How...do I get you those souls?"

"To reap souls, you merely need to end mortal lives, with the intent in your heart to offer them to me." Vashtorr rumbled, in a crude approximation of a chuckle. "Simply willing it is enough. Your life shall be bequeathed to you now, so you may effect the reaping. That of your woman, when you have met the quota.

"Is this arrangement acceptable?"

Some part of the replika knew she shouldn't. Knew that she shouldn't want to. Shouldn't even consider it. To sacrifice other people, by the score, to satisfy a daemon was abominable. To trade so many for the two of them, the starkest betrayal of gestalt and replika both.

Ariane stirred softly in Elster's embrace. "...you...promised...El...ster..."

I'm sorry, Ariane, Elster thought. I'm breaking my promise.

There was never going to be another outcome. As soon as the offer was made, there was only one way it would end.

"I'll do it!" Elster barked into the sky. "You have a deal!"

"Goooooooood," rumbled Vashtorr. The skies lit up warm and bright. His voice boomed triumphant, so basal as to vibrate the hull of the mangled Penrose.

"Now please!" Elster cried, lifting her lover up as best she could. "Save her! Save Ariane!"

"You have merely to sign the contract."

With this, the silver nematodes flowed like water, swelling up into a mound before the replika. Metal and wire and flesh rose from the mound. It unfolded and unfurled a roll of parchment, upon which was writ the contract in blood and oil. A line at the very bottom was left, crystal clear intent. A feather quill of thin, fibrous metal wires jutted up from the mass.

Elster's vision was softening around the edges. She could scarcely read the contract, even if she wanted to. Time was running out for her. She plucked the quill up and looked around for ink.

"You have all the ink you need at hand. You spill it everywhere."

It took Elster only a moment to realize the implication. She drew the quill nib to her cheek, filling the inkwell with her own oxidizing fluid. She reached out towards the parchment.

Her hand started to cramp. Was it strain from all the fighting? The loss of fluids taking its toll? Or was some part of herself rebelling against a manifestly profane act?

Elster clenched her teeth and forced the nib to the parchment.

"LSTR-512," she scratched, powering through the pain. The last stroke barely applied with a long tail end, before her cramping hand dropped the quill.

"It is done," rumbled Vashtorr. "The deal is struck, the contract signed...and sealed."

As he said this, Elster saw a vile symbol burn itself onto the parchment of its own accord. Even as the blackened spot cooled, it still burned Elster's eye to see it. An unclean and unwholesome symbol. Pregnant with power and malice. The contract rolled itself up and disappeared into the silver mass again. As if it never were.

"Okay..." Elster said, gulping. With the intensity of the moment fading, she felt herself growing so terribly tired. She fought to stay upright. "Now, save Ariane!"

"It shall be done immediately," Vashtorr said, "and with all due haste. Be still, and resist not."

"Wha-" Elster said, before looking around to see the silver nematodes grow and swell all around her. "Ah!"

They crawled over the floor and began to climb her body. In her surprise, she loosened her grip on Ariane.

"Ah! Ariane!" Elster cried, as the silver tide pulled her lover from her grasp. "Ariane! Ah! Ah!" She screamed as the nematodes began to cover her body.

Every time they found an opening in her form, the silver flowed in. Everything leaks, and with all she'd endured, Elster had many cracks and wounds. She shuddered and gasped and writhed, feeling them invade her body. They felt oily, on her metal, flesh, mind, and soul. Elster didn't have the strength to rise, or even to move. She could only watch and feel in horror as her every inch was violated by silver worms.

She looked at her arms slowly covered, then over to Ariane. "Ariane! No!" she screamed.

"...El...ster..." Ariane moaned, the mass of silver rising like a tide around her. She was being swallowed utterly. She leaned back, giving as much effort as she could to crane her neck to look towards where she heard her lover screaming. "...Elster...I..." She barely saw the replika through glassy eyes.

"ARIANE!" Elster cried, reaching impotently towards the gestalt. "ARI-AGH!"

The silver worms crawled up her neck and gleefully invaded her mouth. Their quicksilver bodies probed her cheeks, teeth, and tongue, before beginning to slide down her throat.

"AGHEGH!" Elster gagged, her muffled screams blurt out in fear and horror. She felt the nematodes weaving through her hair. Shuddered violently as they entered her gaping eye socket. She started to see black lightning in her phantom eye.

But all she had eye on was Ariane. The last thing Elster saw was Ariane's white hair disappear beneath a silver tide, before the worms found Elster's intact eye and slipped under her eyelids.

"AAAREAGHNE!"

Then, all was dark.

Far above, Vashtorr the Arkifane leered greedily at his new plaything. The next cog in his grand schemes.

Chapter 2: The Invasion

Notes:

Get ready for tons of beloved Replikas (generic ones) getting killed en masse. Often in fairly cruel ways. That's what it's going to be like for a few chapters. Strap in.

This is what Elster signed up for. And probably you, if you read this far already.

"ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG."

Elster stared at her reflection. Wiped scarlet oxident from her cheek.

She studied her features carefully. Searching for any hidden, vile alternation. Marks or brands, that would betray her sordid deal. If only to herself.

She found nothing, and exhaled.

After everything, it was still just her.

An explosion impacted somewhere outside, vibrating the building. Dust tumbled from the ceiling.

Elster blinked away her reverie, tearing eyes away from the bathroom mirror. She slid the magazine from her pistol, checking the ammo. It slid back in with a satisfying 'click'.

She stepped lightly around the two STAR bodies on the floor, and around the growing pools of oxidizing fluid.

So much to do, she thought. So little time to do it.

Emergency lights flashed as Elster marched down the corridor. The walls rumbled with first one, then another impact. The ground accumulated a layer of ceiling dust.

"ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG."

Her "new employer" graciously provided her a map of the underground complex, as complete as if he'd designed the place. Elster made a beeline for her primary target.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

The STARs flanking the door brandished rifles. One held a hand out.

"An LSTR unit? Here?" the other Star said. "Did you get flushed down here from the access tunnels?"

Elster nodded, planting her hooves a respectable distance away. "You could say that." She looked over her shoulder, gesturing with a flick of her head and a pointed thumb. "I found one of your patrols dead back there."

"What?" said the first Star. She looked at her companion. "Did they get in already?"

Elster waited until the two Stars were looking at each other before she snapped her pistol up.

POP, POP.

"Shit!" the Star said, turning her head back. She was a second too slow raising her rifle.

POP, POP.

Elster lowered her pistol, stepping through the wisps of gunsmoke. She avoided stepping in another growing pool of scarlet, and fished a keycard from one of her victims' bodies. It swiped through the card reader, turning the light green. The door slid open.

She paused to pick up a rifle as well, and slid boxes of rifle rounds into her belt.

Not so much in the corner of her eye, so much as in her mind's eye, she checked the new digital element in her replika brain's interface. One updated in real time.

Another two down. Another two subtracted with the Soul Count.

Elster hung the rifle strap from her shoulder, checked the ammo in her weapon, and passed through the door.

The door beyond that opened to an expansive room of computers. Row upon row - rack upon rack - of databanks, disappearing in every direction. Computer screens sat on consoles shaped from gray plastic and were mounted on the ceiling.

She scanned the room with rifle leveled. Each corner was clear. More doors flanked each wall perpendicular to the one she entered through. As she crossed the room, she trained her ears.

Sensing nothing above the distant thunder of artillery rocking the complex and the alarms, Elster approached the databanks.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

Elster spun around, training her weapon on the shrinking figure.

The gestalt woman's hands shot up. "Eek!" she cried, shrinking even lower in the spot where she hide behind a rack of neural archives. "Don't shoot!"

Elster lowered her weapon.

"Thank god," the gestalt said, rising to her feet. She dusted off her jumpsuit, and pushed up her glasses. "I heard gunshots, and hid. Did the imperials get in? Where are the STARs?"

Elster shook her head, and turned back to the databanks.

She reached into her mouth, and pulled out a silver nematode. Elster was glad to have it out of her.

"Ew! Disgusting!" the woman said, waving her hands around. She looked back towards the door, then back to Elster. "W-what is that? ...what are you doing?"

Elster flicked the liquid metal worm at the racks of machines. It squirmed quickly into the plastic coverings and set to work. Sparks began to fly, and from beneath the machine surface, more and more silver nematodes crawled out and to other mechanisms.

"Ah! What's going on!" the gestlat cried, looking at the technological infection rapidly overtaking the machines. Her attention was drawn to computer screens, which began to flicker and display walls of scrap code. She ran over and studied the endless lines. "No! What did you do!? What did-"

She looked over to Elster, and grew silent.

Elster hesitated for but a moment. Her mind looked to the counter in her head.

POP, POP.

The replika started walking toward the door she came from before the scientist even hit the ground.

Elster stopped. She looked back at the gestalt. She frowned. Then she looked forward at the opening door ahead of her. She frowned at the Stars she killed earlier.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, sucking air sharply through her nose.

"ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG."

She shook her head, then kept walking.

Elster compartmentalized her guilt.

 

"Medic!"

A STCR unit hauled a wounded Star past the barricades and into an impromptu medical wing in the building's high-ceiling'd lobby. The symbol of the Eusan Nation, damaged by rocket fire, was embossed on the wall. The statue of the Great Revolutionary and Her Daughter had already fallen, concealed beneath a tarp.

"Agh!" the Star groaned, holding her side with one arm while draping the other over the Storch's shoulders.

Two EULR units rushed over, wearing white uniforms. They guided the wounded replika to a bench, and began examining.

"Damn them," the Storch said, checking the ammo for her submachine gun. "Those bastards are tearing us apart!"

"How could the Empire get this far?" one Eule said, bringing over a tray of replika-grade medical supplies. The patient was leaking oxident at an alarming rate, despite heavy burns around the wound. "I thought they-"

An explosion went off nearby. Thankfully, the telltale thrum accompanied the impact. The Nation still protected them. The shield was holding.

The ailing Star sat up as best she could. "It's not the Empire."

"What?" the Eule said, wide-eyed.

"They...ah!" the Star winced, as the other Eule sprayed her wound and began applying foam to seal the hole. She hissed. "Ah...they...ngh...weren't wearing any Empire uniform I've ever seen."

The Storch looked over her shoulder. "It's not the Empire," she said. "I've heard it from every scout and spy. The Empire is dead." She looked back, flicking a thumb over her her shoulder. "Whoever THAT is, they're probably the ones who wiped them out."

The room grew silent.

Nearby, propaganda posters hung from the walls.

"The Empire At Our Doorsteps! The Nation Needs Vigilance Now More Than Ever! Eusan Will Prevail!"

Sentiments like it were a constant refrain these last few months. As the ships appeared around Heimat, over its moon. As the orbital bombardments reduced whole cities to rubble. As gestalt and replika refugees poured over the land. As Protektor units became increasingly brutal in maintaining order.

As the walls came up...and then came crashing down, under relentless artillery barrage.

Always the refrain: "The Empire Resurgent".

The Nation never so much as intimated the foe conquering them was anything else.

The Eule holding the tray trembled. "...we're doomed. We're all going to-"

SMACK.

The Storch's open hand hang in the air, letting the sting settle in. "One more word of defeatism, and I'll kill you myself!" she barked.

The Eule clutched her face, her bioengineered cheek bruising in real time. She trembled, staring up at the Storch. "Ah...ahh..." she whined.

"We. Do not. Quit." The Storch said, pointing at the ground at her hooves. "The Eusan Nation isn't going to lie down and die. The Revolution will not die here, not today. Not to the Empire. And certainly...!" She pointed towards the barricades set in front of the lobby. "...not to these bastards! We-"

BANG.

The Storch's eyes registered surprise as she toppled to the ground, oxident flowing down her face from the gaping forehead wound.

The other replikas turned. The Eules gasped, dropping what medical supplies they had. The wounded Star groped in panic for her side arm.

BANG.

The Star slumped back against the wall her bench was pressed against.

The Eules screamed.

Elster pulled out her pistol.

POP, POP. POP.

She paused only a second to see the four replika corpses she'd made. She looked at the tally. Confirmed another four. Then, she walked briskly towards the stairs, reloading her pistol.

Elster compartmentalized her guilt.

 

Click, click.

Elster slid rounds into her rifle. She raised the weapon and trained it up as she scaled the stairs.

A distant explosion The tower rocked with the sound, if not the impact.

She rose as far as the stairs would take her, then took over next to the metal door at the top.

It wasn't nearly the top. She had to find another way up.

She listened at the doorway. Heard nothing but the omnipresent alarms. She opened the door and pointed the rifle through it in one motion. Seeing the hallway empty, she proceeded.

Hoof-falls approached.

"Lost contact with the ground floor. Investigating now."

Elster took cover behind a nook in the wall, pressing herself against the surface. Waited.

Two Star units ran past, carrying submachine guns. They didn't see Elster.

Elster checked back where they came, then leveled the rifle.

BANG.

"What!?" the forward Star cried, looking back to see her companion fall. She caught sight of Elster.

BANG.

"Ah!" she cried, her leg shredded. She fell, her SMG firing off wildly into the ceiling and wall. "Son of a-"

Elster rushed forward, pistol unholstered.

POP, POP.

"Agh!" the grunted. One shot ping'd off her chestplate, another gouged a bloody furrow across the side of her head. "T-traitor!"

Elster ducked, continuing to run as a spray of shots flew over her head. Incandescent lights burst, sending a shower of glass down and plunging that section of the hallway into shade.

She leveled her pistol again.

POP. Click.

The Star hissed as an eye burst. "ARGH!" She clutched her eye. On instinct, she tried to fire again one-handed. The weight and the pain threw off her aim.

Only a couple rounds dented Elster's own chestplate. Chips of blue and white paint flaked off.

Shit, shit shit, she thought, teeth clenched. She threw the pistol at the Star's head, who blocked wildly.

Elster tackled, grabbing the Star's arm. The SMG barked, venting its shots into the plaster walls and framed wall decorations. Elster punched the star, and the gun dropped.

The Star raised her one good leg and kicked. Elster was thrown off. The Star reached for the SMG, only to have Elster plant one hoof on it.

The Star pulled a knife.

Elster unshouldered the rifle and swung it like a club.

SMACK.

The Star's head jerked, the replika sent sprawling on the ground. The knife fell from her hand. "Ugh..." she moaned into the floor, making to push herself up. Her head was spinning, her ear ringing.

Click.

The Star froze. She felt the hoof on her back. Felt the press of the SMG against the back of her head.

"...why?" she said. The Star could see the threadcount in the carpet with her one remaining eye.

"..."

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

Elster panted, watching the smoke rise from the gun barrel. Felt the oxident sprayed on her face.

"I...have a quota..." she said finally.

Stupid, stupid! Elster thought, rubbing her face. For the statement. For letting the fight get away from her.

She looted the bodies, grabbing ammo magazines. Retrieved and reloaded her pistol, slung the rifle on her back.

Elster began to jog down the hallway again. SMG raised.

She could hear more hoofsteps. No way that firefight went unheard.

No way a Kolibri wasn't watching through the eyes of the building's defenders.

Elster didn't have time to process the morality of her actions. Her hands were shaking.

In her mind, she was back there, on Vineta.

 

"Defensive positions, all of you!"

ALDR pointed around the room. The replikas amassed around him responded more to the bioresonant commands of the Kolibris behind him.

He wasn't a combat unit, nor versed in command. But it served to punctuate the urgency of the situation.

Moreover, he thought, SHE cannot be seen raising her voice. It is beneath the dignity of her position. He looked over his shoulder.

FALKE-H0101 lounged on a padded chair. Regal, resplendent. Every bit the picture of the royalty their Nation once deposed.

Flanking her were two Stars, bearing batons and riot shields. Prepared to protect Falke with their very lives, if the many more armed replikas about the room failed to gun the invader(s?) down.

Leaning on the chair's padded arm, and situated at Falke's feet, or pacing behind her, were three Kolibri. Helping their superior coordinate an impromptu defense of the building itself.

The three were restless. The excitement of the replikas in the room was infecting them. They squirmed and chewed nonexistent fingernails. KLBR-H0103, the pacer, bit her thumb nervously.

Falke simply stared at the door. Her mind was in many places at once. But she only had eyes for the room's entrance. A chokepoint the invader would hopefully be funneled through.

Any word on the security cameras? she thought.

They still can't get them on line, ma'am, 03 responded, shaking her head, doubling her pace. She stopped in her tracks suddenly.

The other Kolibri saw it too. And through them, Falke.

"Silver...worms?" Kolibri 03 said, aloud. She looked around, but in truth she was hundreds of meters away, looking through other eyes.

"What was that?" Adler said, looking over from his conversation with a Eule that was supplying him with a pistol. "Worms?"

"They're having to abandon the security room," Kolibri 03 said. Her bottom lip trembled. "There's...so many of them!"

"Impossible!" Adler said. "How can worms-"

"Enough, Adler." Falke did not deign to raise a hand. Her voice alone brought silence, even without bioresonance. "I see what they mean."

Adler crossed his hands behind his back, pensively.

The overhead lights flickered. Not an unusual event. But this didn't time with the artillery strikes, as they normally did.

KLBR-H0102, perched on the left arm of Falke's chair, jerked her head around. "The ARAR in the vents have seen them too." Her eyes widened. "They're crawling away! The worms are in the vents with them!"

Adler started pacing now, watching the walls. Saw the lights flicker, again out of sync with any explosion. "Could this be...?"

"A hitherto unseen weapon by our mystery invaders?" Falke finished. Her eyes darted to the floor briefly. "Possibly. Are we sure the intruder was an LSTR unit?"

"In full Euson Nation colors, ma'am," said KLBR-H0101, sitting cross-legged on the floor at Falke's hooves. Her hands gripped her knees in front of her. "I saw it, before I lost contact with the STAR."

"Any intel from the basement?" Falke asked, but she already knew the answer. It was as much for the benefit of Adler as anything. Keeping him looped in mentally would simply divert her attention further. After all, she was also keeping tabs on the battle on the streets.

"Still dark," said Kolibri 02. She scratched her head nervously. "If the central neural archive has been compromised..."

"We don't know that," said Falke, breaking her eyes away from staring at the door to look at the Kolibri directly. She raised a hand and stroked the Kolibri's face.

Kolibri 02 blushed, then closed her eyes. She let the touch wash over her.

"We will not lose hope," Falke said. "Not until we can confirm otherwise. Even then, we fight until the bitter end. Even if the central copies are destroyed, we will simply have to rebuild replika ranks from existing units." She turned back to the door, continuing to pet Kolibri 02. "The Nation will endure."

Alder watched Falke - their Falke, the Falke permitted to oversee the Nation's beating heart - and permitted himself a smile. He could not have felt more proud.

Even seeing that little gremlin receive the pleasure of Falke's touch couldn't spoil Adler's mood.

An explosion outside. The building rocked, trembled. But no real structural damage.

The shield still held. Praise the Founders.

Chapter 3: Gauntlet of the Ascendant

"Die! You filthy traitor!"

Elster ducked behind an overturned filing cabinet as gunfire spilled around her.

She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to clutch her shoulder, where a shot lodged inside. She sometimes hated her metal body could feel pain.

A fresh magazine slid into the SMG. She pulled back the bolt.

As she crouched, ready to reposition, a metal object flew over the span of the room. It clattered against the wall and landed at her feet.

Elster's instincts moved faster than her mind. She grabbed the grenade and threw it back. Then sank as low as she could go. Clapping hands over her ears.

From her position looking at the floor, she saw a bright flash and heard a loud bang. Her ears rang.

Flashbang. Elster hadn't even registered what it was before she threw.

"Agh!"

"MY EYES!"

"YOU FOOL!"

Elster repositioned behind a toppled desk. As she ran, she loosed a volley of fire in a wide spray.

STAR-H0115 was caught out in the open, rubbing her tear-streaked eyes. She fell in a shower of dust and scarlet. "Ah!"

"Son of a-" STCR-H0113 barked. She raised an SMG over the lip of their impromptu cover and sprayed blindly. "Where is she?"

"What?" screamed STAR-H0116, blind and deaf. She didn't even bother rising.

"Useless!" the Storch barked, reloading by touch alone. She could barely hear herself, and couldn't see. With the slid pulled back, she fired her SMG over cover again.

In her mind, she shouted, Command, traitor has us pinned, blind, and deaf! We need backup!

Acknowledged, came the reply.

Elster heard hoof-falls coming down the corridor. She crouch-walked around the table between bursts.

She tossed a metal pencil holder towards the far corner of the room. When the random fire drifted vaguely in that direction, Elster dashed over no-replika's-land.

Star 16 felt the vibration as Elster hopped the barricade and smacked her across the face. "Ah!" she cried, her SMG spraying wildly. She staggered, turned around. Disoriented.

"Where?" Storch 13 groaned, blinking. She pointed towards Elster and the Star, trying to see through pure white.

Elster's weapon sprayed. The Star caught several bullets in the back.

She caught even more when the Storch screamed and loosed her own bullets. All restraint fell away.

Elster ducked, grabbing the bullet-riddled, dying Star 16 by the back of her armored collar. Pushed her forward as a replika shield. The Star stumbled on, oxident leaking from her mouth. Elster sprayed again, from behind her impromptu barrier.

"Ah!" Storch 13 cried, sinking to her knees, then pitching back. She groaned, trying to raise her weapon one-handed. Her other arm clutched a puncture on her side that weeped oxidizing fluid.

Then the door burst open.

First one, then two Stars rushed through, carrying riot shields and batons. STAR-H0117 and STAR-H0118.

Shit, thought Elster.

She shoved the wounded Star forward, who fell headlong into her compatriot's shield.

Elster sprayed again, backing up.

Click.

SHIT!

Elster threw the spent SMG at the advancing Stars, then pulled out her pistol. She kept walking backwards, aiming to shoot Star 17 in the leg.

Then Elster tripped over Star 15, whom she downed earlier. "Ack!"

"Get 'er!" said Star 17, who rushed forward, baton raised.

Elster popped two shots wildly into the Star's shield, then took an overhead baton strike to the shoulder. "Agh!" she cried.

"We've got her!" cried Star 18, taking up the rear of the duo. Command, closing in!

Star 17 was on top of Elster, crushing her pistol arm between the floor and her shield. The Star smacked her free arm with the baton. "Stay down, filthy traitor!" she barked.

Her baton rose again.

Then the wall burst open beside her.

It wasn't an artillery barrage, though. The shield held. Instead, an avalanche of silver nematodes poured out of a now exposed air duct in the wall, along with an ARAR unit.

"What the fuck?" Star 18 said, backing up. Her eyes darted around, unable to decide what to focus on.

"Ah! Ah! AGH!"

The Ara scrambled and writhed, scratching at the quicksilver worms that crawled over her. She collapsed the nearby barricade and fell on top of it in her haste to rise.

On her face was the look of purest terror. That, and the worms, that forced their way into her eyes, mouth, and nose. "AAAAGH!" Her legs kicked wildly in the air, as she clutched at her face in panic.

"No!" cried Star 17, now covered in nematodes herself, piling on her back and legs. She dropped her baton and clawed at her limbs and chest. "Get 'em off! Get 'em off me!"

POP.

Star 17 fell over, spilling scarlet in a spray as she went.

Star 18, last Star standing (the one used as a shield was quite dead), snapped to attention. She raised her shield as Elster fired the pistol at her, too. "Shit!"

"Cover me!"

Storch 13 rose to her feet, tears running down her face. She chanced one bleary-eyed look down. "Am I seeing that right?" she groaned. Then she raised her SMG, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Elster winced, bracing herself. Then looked back when death wasn't forthcoming.

"Shit!" the Storch said, looking at her spent weapon. She winced in pain, then fished in her belt for another mag.

"Storch!" Star 18 cried, looking down. She backed up.

"What? Shit!"

The nematodes were spreading across the floor. A silver tide weaving across the carpet in an expanding pool. The two Protektors gave ground.

BANG.

"AGH!" Star 18 toppled forward, her right leg blown out from under her by a rifle shot.

Right into the oncoming silver swarm.

As the room rang with renewed and terrified screams, the Storch slammed a new magazine into her SMG and slid the bolt.

BANG.

The shot punched through her chest, showering the wall behind with oxident gore.

"AGH!" Storch 13 groaned.

Elster stepped toward the staggering Storch, fishing out rounds and loading them in the rifle as if her enemy wasn't even there. Her hooves crossed the writhing puddle of liquid silver. Yet none rose up to her. The few clinging to her from the burst wall dropped off lazily, seeking less proscribed targets.

Storch 13 stumbled against the wall, coughing up oxident. She barely held her weapon. "Why...hck...why don't they attack you?"

She slumped down, going limp.

"..." Elster merely stared.

Beside her, Star 18 was screaming, writhing, flailing her limbs. The worms were reaching her mouth too. They'd already found a way inside via the hole in her leg.

POP, POP.

The screaming ceased. The count decremented.

Nearby, the Ara was simply twitching and gurgling.

Elster paced back. She reloaded her pistol, then pointed it at the Ara.

POP.

The twitching stopped. The count decremented.

Elster stooped down and reached into the mass of silver by the wall hole. Somewhere distant, an explosion went off, rocking the building. She pulled the riot shield from Star 17. Elster strapped it to her own arm.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

"Agh!"

Elster staggered, pain shooting up and down her body. She swayed on her hooves. Her head spun around.

The Storch's SMG billowed a wisp of gunsmoke. She grinned her scarlet-stained teeth. "Don't...you dare...ugh...forget about me...traitor..."

Playing dead? Elster thought.

Elster threw up the shield in time to catch another spray of bullets. She crouched down, letting the bullet spray splash over her. Felt the impacts on the shield vibrate up her arm.

She tasted oxident in her mouth. She could feel something was broken.

Get your asses over here! Storch 13 screamed in her mind. She held the trigger down, barely keeping it level from the kick. I'm...I'm just about ou-

Click.

The Storch looked down at her weapon. "Shit," she muttered, letting it fall to her lap. She wheezed a hoarse, pained laugh. "Guess you got-"

POP, POP.

Gunsmoke wafted from Elster's pistol, as she glared from across the room.

She grunted as she rose, pistol hand clutching at her back. It came away scarlet.

Elster limped over to the door, checked it again.

Were more coming? Or were they content, now, to draw her further in?

Elster fished a Repair Spray from her belt. She pressed it into her gaping wounds, filling them with foam.

She pulled out an Autoinjector, then put it away again after a second's consideration. She only had the one. It would save her life, if it came to it. She fished out a Repair Patch and tended to her other wounds.

She grabbed all the ammunition she could carry. Some of the fallen also carried Repair Patches, which she took.

Then, she smiled. The replikas had other helpful tools on their person: grenades.

Not for the first time that day, Elster was thankful she, as a Filthy Traitor, no longer needed to obey the Rule of Six.

She entered the hallway, shield in front, pistol in hand.

 

"Are you okay?"

KLBR-H0104 shuddered. She felt phantom goosebumps across phantom skin, and a squirming pit form in her stomach. She felt sick.

"They...they died horribly," she said, hugging herself. "All of them." She shuddered again. Kolibri 04 had felt it. It was so horrible, she deliberately kept the full scope of what she'd experienced back from the other Kolibri. Even though they clamored for updates more substantial than "Team 14 dead, invader approaching our position".

Kolibri 04's words disconcerted the Eules. They looked at each other, and clutched their weapons nervously. Pistols, shotguns. None of these girls were designed for combat.

The Stars were meant to stand on the front lines. If they had fallen, what hope did the Eules have? Were they meant simply to sell their lives for every inch?

Not that this wasn't the implied policy from command for a good while now.

"Don't worry."

Every replika in the room turned to the giant in their midst.

Taciturn and private, the giant looked upon them from behind her face shield. A large hand rested on the weapon sitting beside her.

"Just stay behind me. I'll take care of it." She rose to her feet, the rounded top of her helmet nearly scraping the ceiling as she walked. Her weapon left an imprint in the carpet when she hefted it up with both hands.

Kolibri 04 smiled.

"Thank you, Schnapper."

 

Elster rounded the corner, shield up, pistol pointed.

When she found the next stretch empty, she walked slowly forward.

She strode through a maze of corridors, cubicles, and administrative offices. Framed propaganda posters and sterile photos of flowers and fruit adorned the walls.

Suddenly, she heard something. Not the distant booms of artillery barrage, but the rhythmic sound of slow, plodding hoof-steps. She froze.

Elster readied her weapon. The sounds were heavy, and they were getting closer.

Suddenly, they stopped.

Elster waited. One second. Two seconds. She held her breath.

WHRRRRR.

Elster dove to the ground, deep-rooted impulse, well trained, driving her down before her conscious mind processed the sound.

The plaster wall beside her was shredded by a high volume of gunfire.

No, thought Elster. Sweat broke out on her skin. Her body shuddered. Old memories dredged up from where time, death, and the memory-artisans of AEON had buried them. No, no, no!

The cone of fire traveled over her head. Showering her with plaster and shattered wall decorations.

Elster threw her shield above her head, pressing her other wrist against her head in panic.

When the bullets stopped, Elster's head rose slightly. Her heart was racing. Her eyes opened wide. Her breathing quick and shallow.

After an interminable moment, she raised the shield first, then looked through its transparent surface.

WHRRRRR.

Elster dropped down again. The bullets clipped the top of the shield before she brought it down. She looked up, only to see half the shield completely shredded. Bullet-resistant, space-age transparent polymers, torn like tissue paper.

High velocity, high bps, armor piercing rounds. Elster gaped. Fuck.

As the bullets stopped again, Elster hurried to divest herself of the shield. She abandoned it on the ground and began to crawl. It would only slow her down.

Core memories bubbled up from within. Of inch-worming across blasted, corpse-strewn killing grounds. She could still smell Vinetan mud, and the nauseating scent of wild lilacs.

Heavy hoofsteps again. Elster quickened her pace, rising to a low run as soon as she found a patch of intact drywall to cover her movements.

She holstered her pistol and pulled out the rifle. Neither the SMG nor the pistol had the penetration for what Elster knew was out there.

She ducked down a side corridor. Then she quietly tried the latch on an office door.

WHRRRRR.

Elster broke into a sprint, as wall, door, and office within were torn to shreds.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She couldn't think straight. She just kept running.

WHRRRRR.

Another cascade of shots erupted from the wall behind her. She yelped, nearly stumbled.

She rounded a turn, only to see a barricade on the far side of the hall.

"F-fire!" a Eule said, training her pistol down the hall.

Elster turned around and ran back the way she came as three or four Eules dumped pistol and shotgun rounds at her.

WHRRRRR.

Oh come on! Elster screamed in her head, as bullets torn through walls above her. She practically ran on all fours, like the scared, hunted animal she felt like.

With the bullets silenced, Elster heard the heavy footsteps move again. They were much closer now. Elster was headed right for them.

Slowing for a moment to catch a breath, Elster readied her rifle. She looked around frantically, then noted the holes already blown in the walls around her.

The hoofsteps grew louder. They rounded the corner.

They paused. All was still for agonizing seconds.

Elster clasped a hand over her mouth, not daring to utter a sound. She had to force herself to take deep, slow breaths through her nose, no matter how her needy lungs begged for air after so much running. Her heart raced.

The stomping gait picked up again. They walked down the hall Elster had occupied just moments ago.

Elster huddled, shaking, under a desk beneath the hole made in the wall. Her eyes beheld filing cabinets and bookshelves reduced to scrap and splinters on the room's far side.

The hoofsteps grew louder still. The giant was right on top of her.

Elster didn't make a move. Didn't utter a sound. She held her breath until her vision swam.

Go. Away. Elster thought, the sound of her own hear pounding in her ears. Go away!

Silence. Then...

"Heh. Is that what she's thinking?"

Elster's heart jumped.

"No," said the Schnapper, her bulk shifting audibly as she turned. Voice deep, husky, and muffled by metal plating. "I don't think I will."

The wall behind Elster buckled and the desk shattered, as a massive hand crashed through, grabbing Elster by the back of the neck.

"AGH!" Elster cried, as she was pulled bodily through the wall and the wood. Body showered in drywall and splinters.

Her legs kicked wildly in the air. The strong hand squeezed only slightly, and Elster felt like she was being crushed in a vise.

"Little traitor," said the giant, unseen from Elster's angle. "Kolibri knew where you were from the start."

Elster barely had time to register this, before she was thrown down the hall as hard as the giant could muster. "AaaaaaAAAGGGH!" she screamed, sailing through the air.

Her body hit the wall with a sickening crunch. She got whiplash from the sudden stop, or what felt like it. Elster tumbled to the ground.

"..."

Elster shot awake and gasped. How long had she been out?

She hissed, clutching her chest. She definitely broke something. Tears welled in her eyes. She could barely crack them open. She struggled to stand up.

The giant hand grabbed her again and lifted her off her hooves.

Elster yelped, arms clutching the immense fist as it encircled her whole neck easily. She kicked at the air and, when she found the metal body, she kicked it too.

She was finally facing the ride way to see her tormentor.

Clad - or rather made - of thick, powered armor, the SAPR unit was practically a tank on legs. Eight and a half feet tall. Overlapping plates and rounded edges. Face obscured by a blast shield. Symbols, colors, and numbers of the Nation's military painted on her chest.

Little of the warmth of the cousin who shared its chassis, the MHNR, was given by the Schnapper.

Not that Elster expected warmth from Nation loyalists in this moment, of any make and model. Gestalt or Replika. It was simply not surprising that a unit geared towards hefting anti-tank gatling guns would be the cold type.

"Nice nap?" Schnapper said, pulling Elster close. She chuckled. She slowly pivoted on the spot. "Shall we take you to Falke now?"

Elster unholstered her pistol and jammed it at the Schnapper's face plate. She unloaded the whole magazine.

Instead of breaking through or even just cracking the vision slit, the bullets simply ricocheted off. "Ah!" Elster cried, as one of them grazed her cheek.

Schnapper chuckled. "Nice try." She held Elster even higher aloft. "Enough games. It's probably better you die now. Is th-"

Elster smiled, and held up the grenade pins on each of her fingers.

The explosions came from behind Schnapper, where the grenades were rolled. In any other situation, detonating explosives that close would be suicidal. Elster counted on Schnapper being so large and bulky as to serve a reliable replika shield.

As it happened, the surprise of the detonation, if not the force, was enough to cause Schnapper to drop Elster.

"AH!" Schnapper cried, covered in plaster dust as the explosives ruined the wall behind.

Elster rolled, gasping and grasping at her neck. She crawled as best she could. However, a single heavy step caused her to pause and look up.

Of course multiple grenades at point blank range would only annoy a replika in power armor.

Schnapper hissed behind the visor. "I'm going to kill you now."

Then the wall really exploded.

 

Elster uncovered her face, only to get a faceful of plaster chunks for her trouble.

She spat and sat up. She brushed drywall dust from her hair, matted with sweat and oxident.

She looked forward, and stared wide-eyed at the open sky.

Plumes of dark smoke rose to the heavens from the blasted and burned city beyond. Aircraft, foreign to Eusan civilization, streaked across the sky. In the distance, the flash and smoke of artillery went off every few seconds.

But what Elster saw most was a rippling wall in the air around the building. Like the transparent, glassy surface of a pool, agitated into motion. A large hole rippled in the surface, righter over the hole in the wall. She climbed to her hooves, and saw the field gutter and strain, before forcing itself back in place.

Whatever shield was protecting the building, it had failed. At least in that one spot.

Elster looked around, and noticed the great metallic bulk slumped on the ground. The whole top section of the replika, power armor and all, was blown clear off at the shoulders. All that was left was pulped and bleeding organic components, and torn and burned metal.

I guess even a Schnapper can't take a direct hit from artillery, Elster thought. She kicked the thing, just to feel better.

As she limped forward, her head began to buzz.

"Ah!" Elster gasped, clutching her head. Was it a concussion?

[S T I R B]

Elster's eyes shot up, and she could see her problem.

All four of them.

"You killed Schnapper!" Kolibri 04 said, her voice multiplied by four, grumbled by and from four mouths. Beamed directly into Elster's head. "You killed so many of them!"

Their teeth were bared. Their eyes glaring with utmost hate.

[S T I R B]

"ARGH!" Elster cried, gritting her teeth. Static and artifacts filled her vision.

She sank to her knees, fingers digging into her scalp. The pain only grew and grew. Elster felt like her head would explode.

"Die!" yelled the Kolibris 04. "Die, die, die!"

Elster forced herself to one knee. Her hand trembled as she pulled the rifle from her back. Trembled as she placed it in her hands.

[S T I R B]

Elster tasted oxident. Saw it, too, beneath the maelstrom of digital artifacts. She was bleeding from the eyes now.

She leveled the gun, and turned on her internal radio.

Beneath all that static, and even with full control of their faculties, Kolibri still couldn't help hiding clues in their avalanche of mental noise.

Elster killed far too many of them by now. The trick was getting old.

The Kolibris 04 all went from rage to fear as Elster made her choice of target.

BANG.

 

Silence in the room was broken, as Kolibris 01, 02, and 03 all screamed at once.

"What now?" Adler groaned, covering his ears.

Falke silenced the little ones with an exercise of will.

Then they all started crying.

"She's dead!" Kolibri 01 cried, "She killed her!"

"Who?" Adler said.

"Number 4!" sobbed Kolibri 03, burying her head in the back of Falke's chair. "Number 4 is dead!"

"She's gone! They're all gone!" wept Kolibri 02.

Falke placed a hand on Kolibri 02's head, gently stroking her scalp. "There, there," she cooed. "We must be strong. For her sake. Can you do that for me?"

Her Kolibris nodded and sniffed, rubbing their eyes.

"Reach out and find anyone still left," said Falke. "We have to stop her."

Kolibri 01 sniffed, looking from her place on the floor. "There are some I can still reach."

 

Elster stepped over Kolibri 04's body, not even bothering to loot her.

She rubbed her temples. Rubbed her bleeding, aching eyes. Wiped away oxident. With great effort, she focused on ejecting the magazine from her pistol. Her hand fished for a new one.

A Eule unit ran up behind and smacked Elster in the back of the head with a metal pipe.

Ack! Elster saw stars.

She fell to the ground, ears ringing almost as bad as two minutes before. She rolled over on her back.

Just in time to see four Eules standing over her. They scowled in fear and anger.

They proceeded to beat Elster into unconsciousness with pipes and rifle butts and their own hooves.

Chapter 4: Already Became Whole

Notes:

Because sometimes, even if it wasn't the original plan, you just have to Assert Dominance.

It helps if you already did once before.

[Chapter Content Warning: Implied S*icide]

Wake up.

Elster hung weightless in the dark. Every part of her body sore.

"...hmm?" she moaned.

"I said wake up!"

A hand smacked her on the back of the head.

"Ah!" she cried. A jolt of pain ran through her bruised flesh.

The two replikas carrying Elster under her arms dropped her unceremoniously to her knees. Firm hands gripped her shoulders, forcing her to stay upright.

Hissing, Elster raised her head, eyes cracking open.

She awoke in the middle of a hexagonal meeting hall. Railings divided curving rows of what once were seats. Seats since removed and stacked in the corners. Against one wall, a set of TV cameras, made from metal supports and ugly beige plastic, collected dust.

Heavily armed replikas milled about the room. Whatever activities they performed - cleaning weapons, repairs, delivering messages - ceased immediately to watch Elster.

At the far side opposite Elster, a short stage stood, once furnished with curtains and Eusan Nation flags. Now stacked with crates of munitions, food, body armor, and other materials for warmaking. A podium on wheels overturned, for use as impromptu cover on the stage's right side.

On the front of the stage was a padded leather easy chair, carried in at great pains. Two Star units, bearing batons and riot shields, stood vigil on either side. Three Kolibri units stood, sat, or leaned on the chair. They stared daggers at Elster. An Adler unit stood behind the chair, arms folded behind his back. He stared with clinical detachment.

Falke-H0101 took the place of honor on the padded throne. Exuding an aura of power and control. Literally, as a consequence of her potent command of bioresonance.

"So. You are the rogue LSTR unit who turns her guns against her fellow citizens." Even without the added height of the stage, Falke towered above Elster easily. Falke looked up her nose at her. "Against my soldiers. Against our great Nation!"

She sprung up from her seat, gesturing with her whole arm.

"..." Elster sniffed. She rubbed her nose with the back of her wrist. She never took her eyes off Falke.

"Tch," Falke sneered, almost playing up her contempt for the assembled troops. "Such disrespect. Do you have any idea how many of my people you've killed?"

Elster, in fact, knew exactly how many people she killed. But she guessed there was no point in answering.

The replika commander stepped off the stage. Instead of dropping, Falke rose. Carried by an invisible force of bioresonance, holding her aloft. Gliding her closer to her prisoner, as if the very act of walking was beneath her.

"What drives a replika to such reckless treason?" Falke said, folding her arms. "It can't be simple cowardice. You wouldn't dive into the fray as you did." As she spoke, she drew closer. "Is it some bout of persona degradation? Did you, in your weakness, break under the strain of defending the Nation, when all your compatriots comported themselves with dignity?"

Falke permitted herself to land, an arm's breadth before Elster. "Or," she said, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brow, "did our enemies entice you into turning coat? What was it, LSTR? Did they offer reward? The chance to live? Or did they spin some ideological drivel that led you astray?" She cocked her head. "I've seen photos of what these invaders have done to replikas they get their hands on. I can assure you, if they offered you clemency, they were lying."

"..."

"Well?" Falke said, staring down at Elster. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"..."

Falke sighed, closing her eyes. "Fine then."

She reached out her hand. "You will tell me everything I want to know."

Elster felt Falke in her mind, probing for answers.

"Or rather, your mind will."

With no small measure of trepidation, Elster smiled.

"Go ahead," she said. "Have everything you want, and more."

Falke was prepared to push through mental defenses, no matter how rudimentary or feeble. Or else, if the subject was mentally adept, slightly stronger defenses, that would take time and effort to strip away.

She didn't expect to meet no resistance at all.

After all, Elster thought. We've fought before. And I won.

Falke froze. Her eyes went wide.

She saw herself somewhere completely different. In a time and place far removed. Everywhere, and Nowhere.

Her heart skipped a beat. She clutched her chest, then rubbed temple. She couldn't look away. Not from those glaring eyes, not from the monstrosity she was in that other time. Like looking into a mirror darkly.

"Commander?" Adler said, pacing over. "Is something wrong?"

Do you want to see? Elster thought. You said you wanted me to tell you everything.

"W-what is the meaning of this?" Falke whispered. "What...?"

Very well. Elster narrowed her eyes. I. Will. Show. You.

Pain shot through Falke's head. A buzzing that would not relent. She clutched her head. "Ah!"

"Commander?" Adler said, leaning forward in concern.

"Hey!" barked one of the Storchs holding Elster. "What are you doing?"

"AAAAH!"

Replikas throughout the room turned to the stage. The Kolibris were clutching their heads in pain. They moaned and screamed.

"What?" Adler said, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "Them too?"

"Stop it," Falke muttered, clutching her head. "Stop it! Let me go!"

The Storch holding Elster pulled a pistol. "Stop whatever you're doing, traitor! Or I'll..."

A wave flowed across the room. A mental pressure that struck every mind.

"Ah!" the Storch groaned, pressing her wrist against her face. She swayed, light-headed.

"What is...?" Adler doubled over, covering his eyes. He peeked with one eye, gritting his teeth. Some mental virus? he thought, A cognito-hazard, infecting the bioresonant network?

Elster only continued to stare.

She bared her soul.

 

To Falke, first, came The War.

Vivid memories of fighting in the trenches of Vineta. Back when it had vast tracts of dry ground on which to dig. They didn't stay dry.

What is this? Falke thought.

She felt Vinetan mud plastering her face, and seeping into shoes she'd never worn, between toes she never had. Felt the interminable chill of toes never dry, nor warm, for vast stretches of time.

Then she was struck by the sound of crushing artillery volleys. Clumps of dirt and stones showering over her, getting in her hair. Ringing in her ears. Gouts of scarlet erupting from allies and enemies alike. Bodies left to molder where they may, even stacked to shore up crumbling walls. The corpsefires burning, the rot fouling the air. It was a tableau of violence, the merciless grind of war. Falke's only constant companions were death, and the acrid smell of gunsmoke.

She wakes, screaming, in her bed. Over and over. Clutching at blankets, wrestling with any friendly hand that tried to restrain her. The shaking, the whimpering, the crying. It never seemed to stop. Learning to fear the whirring of rotary guns, the blast of cannons, the stink of disease, the smell of lilacs.

Then, the largest explosion of all. She can't look directly at it. Dares not. But she sees its result: the mushroom cloud.

The land was swallowed by the sea. Her home, gone in an instant.

No. That wasn't right.

Who is this? Where am I? Who am I?

 

Falke is LSTR-512. Falke is Falke. Falke is Elster.

She was on the ship. Distantly, she knew it was the Penrose 512. To her, it was only The Ship. The only ship she would know for the rest of her life.

She woke. Her crewmate activated her. It was time to work.

Falke looked up at the only coworker she would know for years. For the rest of her life.

"Hello," the white-haried woman said. She bowed. Then, correcting herself, stood at attention, saluting. "My name is Ariane Yeong. I look forward to working with you, Elster."

My god, Falke thought. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

 

Days turned into weeks into months into years.

Initially, the drudgery of the ship was a welcome respite from the War. The thought of combat left the taste of ash in her mouth. No explosions. No enemies. No lilacs. Sterile, consistent, calm.

But each cycle was the same. Regular maintenance. Cleaning. Organizing inventory. She memorized every bolt, panel, and scratch. The routine etched in her mind, until she grew numb. The ship never changed.

The only inconstant was Her. The only surprise was Her. The white-haired woman. Ariane.

The two ceased to be strangers living in the same space. They became acquaintances. Friends. They became closer.

Falke came to know Ariane on a level she never knew possible. Knew her voice, her laugh, her artistic process. Her hopes, her dreams. Her body. Her soul.

Ariane taught Falke to dance. She wasn't good at it, initially. Ariane was patient. Encouraging. Falke told Ariane she'd like to learn piano. Ariane supported her.

Please! Falke thought, biting her lip. Trying to maintain awareness of her true surroundings. I don't want to play piano! I don't want to learn to dance! This isn't my life! These aren't my memories! Let me go!

 

Life went faster now. Faster and slower.

Falke and Ariane were in bed. They sat in the pilot seats, watching the stars. They cuddled up, watching a film. Falke could recite the films by heart, they've seen them so many times. She stood beside Ariane, admiring her art.

Make it stop.

She stood behind the door, listening to Ariane cry when she didn't think Falke could hear. She watched Ariane skip meals, eat smaller portions. Saw her unsuccessfully research hydroponics. Found ration boxes Ariane said she ate days before. Falke read the dispatch from command, that Ariane tried to hide.

They argued. They shouted. They slept in separate rooms. They cried together in Ariane's shower.

Make it stop!

She massaged Ariane's aching back. Held her hair as she puked. Felt the hair come away in her hands in patches. She held a tooth Ariane thought she could hide. She carried Ariane when she was too sick to walk.

She applied bandages to Ariane's sores. The bandages were running low. Everything was running low.

Falke started to cough oxident. Slowly at first. It ceased to be irregular. As does the stomach pain, and the numbness in her finger tips.

MAKE IT STOP!

Falke wrestled the knife from Ariane's hand, before she-

"Please!" Falke whimpers, digging fingers into her scalp until it hurt. Tears ran down her face. "Make it stop! Please make it stop!"

It didn't stop.

Every moment on the ship dragged on. Even as cycles passed like water. Even as anniversaries came and went. It Just. Kept. Going.

Falke dared not go into the reactor room anymore, except to make vital emergency repairs. She could barely hear herself think over the geiger counter in her head, blaring what she already knew. Mostly she didn't bother with the room at all. There were no parts or means to repair most of them.

She ceased to even notice the low level crackle seeping into every other part of the ship.

 

Falke bit her finger to force herself back to the here and now.

She looked around. The entire room was filled with replikas crying. Sobbing. Holding themselves or each other. Or just staring into space, not moving, save perhaps to shake their heads over and over and over.

A Storch ranted and raved, banging her fists on the ground. Trying to fight through the pain, through the anguish. Tears ran down her face. She gave voice to the most seditious thoughts, words no loyal citizen would dare utter.

"Falke..."

Adler was on his knees, looking up at Falke with tear-filled eyes. "We have to stop this. Or everything is lost!"

 

Falke and Ariane made a promise.

Falke couldn't keep it.

This has to be the end...isn't it?

Elster looked Falke in the eyes.

"No."

 

It never ends.

Falke was trapped living the same period of her life, over and over.

The ship crashes. She enters the hole. She finds the book. She goes to Sierpinski.

It is filled with horrors.

Faces peeled away. Backs that burst. Arms that fall off. The puking of red worms. Hallways made of meat. Incoherent screeching. The dead do not stay dead. The living - Isa Itou - disintegrate before her eyes.

BANG.

 

Falke was shocked awake. Her troops were killing each other.

Anyone with a gun and the wherewithal to use it opened fire. Shots are indiscriminate. The noise deafening.

Some turned their guns the other way. Inward.

When the weapons ran dry, none had the awareness to reload. Many simply lunged at anyone close and started beating them. Swung truncheons or empty guns. Battered with spent ammo magazines. Knives stabbed into backs and faces and hearts. Bare hands and stomping hooves. Gouges and bites and bitter strangulation.

Rage, horror, fear, despair. All etched on faces half in the waking world, half trapped in a hell of creeping meat and their own degeneration. Sympathetic horror for what their counterparts became.

Falke heard the cries of Kolibris. She couldn't bring herself to turn around. The sounds of blunt objects striking flesh and metal was enough.

Somewhere in the walls, Ara units screamed. Was it the silver worms slowly infesting the building? Or was it simply their own harrowing of the soul?

A few replikas simply stopped. Clutched their chests in pain, and dropped. Stress alone stopped their poor hearts.

They were the lucky ones.

 

Falke watched herself die, over and over again, at the hands of Adler.

"I'm sorry!" Adler said, somewhere near to Falke.

Adler pushed Falke down the elevator shaft. She spends dying moments beside herself. Many of herself.

"I'm so sorry!"

Adler stabbed Falke in the eye, as her own pistol gunned him down. He was not wearing a mask.

"I won't do it again, I promise! I'm sorry! Commander!" Adler gripped Falke's leg, sobbing.

Adler kisses Falke on the forehead as she lies in state.

"AAAAAAGH!"

 

Falke met herself, deep in the fathomless abyss of Sierpinski.

They fight over Ariane. Falke wouldn't forgive herself.

She impaled herself over and over and over with spears. It was murder. It was self defense. It was self harm.

Falke no longer recognized herself.

Falke is Elster. Elster is Falke. Falke is dead. Elster is Elster.

 

A dozen times, she left Ariane, running away like a coward to perish in the shallow sea.

A hundred times, she sank to the floor at the foot of Ariane's pod. Unable to kill, she simply died. She broke her promise. Ariane forgot her name.

A thousand times, she clutched her hands around Ariane's neck. She tried to fulfill her promise. She poured all her grief, all her love, and all her will into the act.

It didn't take. It never takes.

Falke sank to her knees, and released a blood-curdling scream.

 

"..."

Elster blinked for the first time in minutes. Or possibly hours.

I...can't believe that worked.

She stood up, wiping the tears from her eyes. She looked around.

The room was covered in scarlet, bullet holes, and replika corpses. Stars, Storches, Eules, Kolibris. Adler. Even the odd Ara.

Elster didn't bother walking around puddles of oxidizing fluid. There was far too little unsoiled carpet. And Elster was already drenched. The price of being in the eye of the storm.

She pulled a still-smoking pistol from Adler's lifeless hands. Checked the ammo. Slid the magazine back in, pulled back the slide.

Falke sat on the ground, sobbing.

"..."

The commander sniffed, then cried out. She looked up. Her face was running with tears and snot.

"She...she'll never...hic..." She sniffed. "...she'll n-never dance with us again!"

Elster stepped forward, and placed a hand on Falke's shoulder. "That's not true."

Falke heaved with heavy, uneven breath. She sniffed. "It's not?"

"No."

Elster smiled warmly. "She WILL dance with us again."

When Falke looked confused, Elster laughed. "Don't believe me? Let me show you."

Falke peered again into Elster's mind. She could hardly do otherwise. Their connection was forged in adamant.

For a second, Falke's eyes widened in surprise. Then wider still, in horror. Her skin stood on end with goosebumps, and chills ran down her body.

Then, her expression softened.

Falke started to laugh.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" she cackled, her grin so wide it hurt. Something broke inside her.

Elster nodded. "That's right."

Then she raised her pistol and held it to Falke's forehead.

Falke didn't stop laughing. After all, they were in concordance.

"Hah hah," Falke said. "For the Arkifane!"

POP.

 

Loaded again with as many guns and supplies as she could carry, Elster paused at the door to the left of the stage. She looked over her shoulder.

She looked out over the massacre she caused.

Elster forced herself to look away. Grabbed her hand as it shook uncontrollably.

Her mind's eye shifted to the Soul Counter. Apparently, getting an entire room of people to murder each other counted as "her kill".

She put them through hell. Put them through hell, and now they would go to-

Don't, she thought, shuddering. She clapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head. Sucked air sharply through her nose, to stop herself from screaming. Just don't. Do not do it. Do not go there.

If she thought about it, it would consume her.

Elster compartmentalized her mortal transgression.

She walked out of the room as quickly as possible.

Focus. Focus. Focus on the here and now.

Elster made her way down a hall, walking at double pace. If only to ward away her thoughts with decisive action.

She found what she was looking for at last: the final elevator.

Click.

"..."

Ding!

Elster stepped into the elevator, clicked the top floor button. She readied her rifle.

In the distance, an artillery discharge exploded against the shield. Rocking the building with vibrations. The elevator doors closed.

Only one loose end left to take care of.

I'm coming for you, you witch.

Chapter 5: End of the Revolution

Notes:

People familiar with Signalis will catch a pretty big divergence from canon here. More on that at the end.

Ding.

The elevator doors parted.

One beat. Two beats.

Elster spun around from her cover in the corner of the elevator, leveling her rifle.

The room was filled with replikas and gestalts, in full riot gear and heavily armed.

They were also all littering the floor, staining the carpets in copious scarlet.

Elster stepped cautiously through the elevator door. Checked her corners. Scanned for any surviving defenders. Strained her ears for the quietest sounds.

Only the smell of blood and gunsmoke met her nose, only the sight of the dead met her eyes, and only the distant burst of munitions met her ears. She exhaled.

She crossed the hall, stepping over and around cadavers. Spillover from the massacre Elster orchestrated downstairs. She hopped over benches overturned as cover. Her shadow passed across potted plants shattered and shredded by crossfire.

A Schnapper slumped at the end of the hall, facing towards the far door. Her power armor bore signs of intense, though superficial damage. Whole squads surrounded the giant in all directions, lying in heaps, bodies shredded by gunfire. Her gatling gun lay spent and empty, a meter away from the Schnapper, next to a poor unidentifiable soul against whom it had been used as a crude bludgeon.

Elster gave the giant a wide berth, focusing her rifle on it even as she crossed the room. She only lowered her guard when she saw an oxident-slick flag pole impaled under the visor.

She turned to the set of double doors. One door was slightly ajar.

Elster put her back to the wall next to the double doors. Peeked through the crack. Seeing an innocuous corner of the room beyond, she kicked the door open and aimed in.

The expansive meeting room beyond was trashed. Long table collapsed in the center, its intact legs holding each end up like a partial wedge. Walls covered in bullet holes and splashes of scarlet. Floor littered with bodies. Windows shattered, permitting a free crossbreeze. The whole left wall was destroyed, exposing the room to the open air.

A gestalt woman with long hair stood at the mouth of this expansive hole, looking out.

The Great Revolutionary's Daughter didn't bother to turn her head or raise her voice.

"So..." she said, her voice husky and tired, "...you finally showed up. You sure know how to keep a lady waiting."

BANG. BANG.

Elster scowled, glaring through the wisps of smoke.

The rifle shots impacted uselessly against a rippling field that appeared around the woman.

The woman didn't even flinch. She sighed, still facing the distant skyline. "Not the talkative type, LSTR?"

Elster whipped out her pistol, marching closer.

POP, POP, POP.

"You're just wasting bullets, you know," the woman said, as the rounds stuck one by one into the wall of force.

POP, POP.

She shook her head. "Kids these days."

POP.

"Yah!" Elstar growled, throwing her pistol at woman. It bounced off the shield and clattered impotently to the ground. She panted.

"Done?" the woman asked.

"..."

"Good."

The wind whipped through the woman's hair. It was dark and silky. Though, now that Elster stood closer, she could see the roots were gray. Invasions left little time for touch-ups.

A medal-laden military coat hung over the woman's shoulders. Sleeves swaying in the breeze.

Suddenly, a volley of fire struck the shield from outside. Traditional munitions crashed against the rippling field, of course. But also bright red light that struck like lightning.

Elster's eyes widened. Directed energy weapons?

"They've been trying for minutes now," the woman said. Another red beam struck the shield, fizzing out. Ozone wafted in with the breeze. "I suppose you can't blame them for trying."

She sighed. "Barbarians. They ruined my view, too. You've never really seen the Capital, until you've seen it from up here." She shook her head. "That's gone now. And after we spent so long building it up."

Elster tore her eyes away from the woman to look out. Her eyes traced the lines of ruined buildings and smoke columns. "...it reminds me of Vineta." After a pause, she added, "...from before. The way it used to look."

The woman nodded. "True, true."

Finally, she turned her head to look at Elster. Her eyes were sharp. Regal. And framed by crow's feet, and heavy dark bags. "Anyway," she said, "what are we to do with you, assassin?"

She turned on her heel, and made to move back into the room.

Elster couldn't help notice the Great Revolutionary's Daughter was missing an arm.

The woman hid it beneath the coat. But as she spun around, Elster caught a glimpse. Not an old wound. Fresh, burned. Cauterized in a single shot, sleeve scorched and blackened.

The woman limped across the room, favoring one leg. "Well, come on," she said, not looking back towards the replika. Her remaining hand waved Elster to follow. "Neither of us has all day."

Elster followed, retrieving her pistol with only a little embarrassment. Slid in a new magazine.

"I presume this," the woman said, waving to the room, "was all your doing?" She limped towards the back of the room, to a waiting leather office chair. "Not too shabby."

She looked up at a grand, framed painting. "O, mother," she said, admiring the regal figure in the portrait. "Our children make such a mess."

"I'm not your child," Elster said, stepping across the room to stand on the other side of the long, broken table.

"Right, right. Hmph." The woman sank into the office chair, positioning herself to face the replika. She reached out to a side table, dragged to sit beside the chair. She picked up a pack of cigarettes, of the finest quality. Provided only to AEON elites. She took up an ornate gold lighter. "So,", she said, popping a cigarette in her mouth, "to what do I owe the honor, assassin?"

Elster glared. "Revenge."

"Fair enough," the woman said, nodding. She clicked the lighter multiple times. "What was your designation again, LSTR unit?"

"LSTR-512," Elster said. "Formerly stationed on Vineta. Then, assigned to the Penrose 512, with gestalt crewmate Ariane Yeong."

Just as the lighter sprung to life, casting the woman's face in a warm glow, she paused. From her expression, wheels were turning. "...that's impossible," she said finally, before pressing the flame to her cigarette.

Elster saw exhaustion writ on the woman's face. When had she last slept? If she was holding back the invader war engine with her bioresonance alone, she probably couldn't. Elster could hardly guess what kind of stimulants the woman was on to stay functioning.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Elster said, finally.

"Persona degradation, perhaps," the woman mumbled, puffing on the cigarette. She nodded. "But I suppose it doesn't matter. Impossible things have been a regular occurrence these days." She sucked in, then held the cigarette between two fingers as she loosed a cloud into the breeze. "The world is full of ghosts. Our nation is founded on ones we shackled in iron and tamed. What's one more?"

"..."

"Take these barbarians, for example," said the Great Revolutionary's Daughter, gesturing to the gaping hole in the wall. Where the skyline was alight with artillery flashes. "Never thought I'd hear about who they're fighting for."

Elster blinked. "You know?"

"Of course," the woman said. "They sent emissaries and everything. Demanding the Eusan Nation join their little 'Imperium', or face destruction. So tiresome." She shook her head. "They called themselves a 'Compliance Fleet', did you know that, Elster? Barbarians, but with pretensions of civility."

"..."

The woman sighed. She pointed with the cigarette held between two fingers. "You know, Grandmother used to talk about them. About him. This man she met, projecting her consciousness into the astral plane. She said they were married, though they'd never met in the flesh. He swept her off her feet. Promising the whole universe, and all the stars in the sky."

She leaned forward, smiling. "He made all sorts of promises to Grandmother. That they would rule the galaxy as Empress and Emperor of all Mankind." She chuckled. "What a load of shit."

The woman grew somber. "The last memory I have of her is seeing her crying. He broke her heart. I don't know if he was just stringing her along. Or maybe..." She sucked smoke. Let the words come out as smoke. "...or maybe, she figured out what his true ambitions were. What it would mean if he actually came here, like he promised." She shook her head. "I was too young then. Just a child. After that...after she was gone, I thought it was something she made up.

"That was, until they showed up. Who do you think they swear allegiance to?"

"I don't care," said Elster.

"You should!" the woman spat, sitting up, pointing a finger at Elster. "You should care a great deal. They're not just here to conquer. They're here to eradicate our way of life!"

She took a quick puff of smoke. "Mother was better at bioresonance than I. Grandmother, of course, was better than us both combined. Like I said, she could speak to people half a galaxy away."

Elster narrowed her eyes. "There are people outside our system? Gestalts?"

"A galaxy of them," the woman waved. "Fellow expats of...wherever it is humanity came from. Grandmother and Mother would talk to them all the time. Even Mother could talk to those with bioresonant ability several stars away. Me, Astral Telepathy was never my strong suit. I never managed more than one or two stars distance."

Elster clenched her fist.

"I've been talking to the folks out there for years now," the woman continued, seemingly forgetting Elster was even there. "They met the Imperium first, a while back. They tell horror stories. The Imperium's technology is maintained by backwards priests that see it as their god. They can't stand the idea thinking machines. Different Empire, same regressive religiosity."

Elster clenched her teeth. She was shaking so hard, she felt like every mechanical connector in her body would shake loose from vibration alone.

"I've seen what they do to replikas," the woman said, finally looking at Elster. "They're maniacs, Elster. Everywhere they go, they enslave gestalts, and commit horrible butchery on replikas. Their bloodlust is insatiable. Burnings, beheadings, mass graves. Oh, my dear, you shouldn't be here killing us. You should be out there, fighting for the Nation. Your people won't survive witho-"

"YOU KNEW!"

Elster slammed a fist down on the ruined chunk of table still standing on its far legs.

"Hmm?" the woman grunted.

"You knew for a fact there was life beyond our star!?" Elster shouted, barring her teeth. "You knew because you could just talk to them!?"

"...well, yes..." the woman said, tapping ash into a tray on the side table.

"But you didn't tell any of us!" Elster yelled, pointing a finger. "You sent us out into the empty void, when you KNEW there were people! You sent us to die...just for propaganda!?"

The woman sighed. "Come now," she said. "Even if we knew, we still needed to know what was in the local area. We might have found new exoplanets to klimaform, or new asteroids to tap for resources. Scout missions like the Penrose Project were vital to our Nation's expan-"

"I don't care about the Nation!" Elster yelled. "You let us go out, knowing we would die! Telling us to die, if we didn't find anything! We gave you everything! Years of our lives! Contact with other people! Our health! Our fucking lives!"

"Ungrateful child," the woman said, sitting up. "You only exist because the Nation created you. We gave you everything you had and are."

"YOU TOOK ARIANE FROM ME!" Elster screamed.

The replika jumped onto the ruined table and made a mad dash forward. She didn't even bother firing a gun, instead wielding her empty rifle as a cudgel.

"AAAARGH!" She growled, raising the rifle over her head.

A wall of force shot out from the woman, slamming into Elster. It knocked the replika off her hooves and sent her flying back. She land on the far end of the table. The force of her landing broke the table legs, finally collapsing the far end of the tabletop to the ground.

"Agh!" Elster groaned, rolling on the splitting wood. Gritting her teeth, she sat up and looked forward.

The Great Revolutionary's Daughter writhed invisibly with power. Her hair whipping and waving, not by the wind, but by pure motive force. The air crackled with a persistent electrical charge.

"Foolish girl," the woman said, bioresonance seeping into her voice so it echoed and vibrated on unnatural registers. Elster could feel her voice in her metal bones. "I was trying to be patient with you. But it's clear to me now what's happening."

Another wave of force went out, weaker than the first. Yet it still pushed Elster and the table she lay on back another foot.

Still clutching her cigarette, the woman pointed with her two fingers. "All this mayhem, all this murder," she said, "all this treason. For what? A childish outburst! You're throwing a tantrum!"

Elster scowled. "Fuck you!"

"At the moment of our Nation's greatest need," the woman continued, "you throw away the lives of badly needed soldiers over some silly girl!"

The replika turned over and scrambled inelegantly to her hooves. She grabbed her rifle again and charged.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!" Elster screamed.

Another wave of force.

Elster stumbled back, yet regained her balance by pitching her weight forward. She steadied herself on the rifle.

"Impudent child!" the woman barked. She raised her arm. One of the half-smashed chairs levitated from the ground. "Three generations of women created this world!" With a gesture, the chair was sent flying.

Elster could only throw her hands in front of her. The chair shattered against her, sending her tumbling over.

"Three generations of my family!" the woman said, raising another discarded chair. "Before we came along, humans were scrambling in the mud among ruins of civilizations they couldn't even remember!" She shot the chair forward.

"Ah!" Elster yelped, rolling to avoid the chair as it crashed onto the tabletop beside her.

"Most of this system was dead rocks. Not places fit for human life." The woman levitated another chair. "WE did that! WE brought mankind together! WE turned wastelands into gardens of green!"

Elster hopped sideways to avoid the chair. It bounced and flew off to join the rest of the rubble in the back of the room.

A metal food cart, overturned and dented from gunfire, rose to the air. "Without us, the Eusan Civilization would not exist!" The cart went flying.

Elster swung the rifle like a club, knocking the cart up and over her head. It crashed loud among the refuse.

"And without me..." The woman levitated her own side table, ash tray and all. "Our people - gestalt and replika - do not survive!"

Elster crouched, readying her club. As the table flew toward her, she ran to the side, then charged.

"Gestalts will be slaves!" the woman cried, flicking her arm up. The table beneath Elster flew up.

"Ah!' Elster yelped, tumbling back and raising her hands to stop the heavy piece of furniture.

"And replikas will face extinction!"

The table flopped over. Elster ducked under it, brandishing her pistol.

POP, POP, POP.

The woman scowled, looking past the bullets that hung in mid-air, stuck in her shield. "None of you have what it takes to do what's necessary. You just keep making the same mistakes over..."

A wave of force burst out, pushing Elster back. "Argh!"

"...and over..."

Another wave, sending Elster sprawling.

The replika got her hands and hooves under her, and charged.

"And OVER!"

It wasn't a wave this time, but a steady stream of forces, radiating out like a gale.

"Nrrr!' Elster grunted, walking into the gust. She threw her hand over her face.

The woman - hair flapping in every direction - gritted her teeth, breathing deeply.

"K-k-k..." Elster grunted. "...k-kill...you..." She almost tripped, found her footing, then kept walking forward.

The force was unreal. Like walking into a hurricane. The force was so great, she could feel the skin on her face getting friction burns. The ricochet wound on her head, scabbed over by oxident, started to leak scarlet.

But she was getting closer.

"N-no!" the woman grunted. "No, you can't touch me!" She scowled. "You're nothing! Nothing but a ghost!"

"This...ghost..." Elster grunted, sinking to all fours so she could pull herself forward by the carpeting, "...is going...to k-kill you!"

The force was so intense, she could feel new cuts and scrapes forming on her face. She had to keep her pistol arm over her face, just to protect her eyes.

"I don't...care...about the Nation...I don't care...about your...fucking family..."

She dug her hooves into the carpet, her pace slowed to crawl.

"I don't care...about Vashtorr..."

The woman frowned. "Who the hell...is Vashtorr? AGH!"

She hissed in pain. Looking down, she discovered its source.

Her leg was covered in silver nematodes. Bubbling up from beneath the carpet, now digging into her flesh.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" the woman cried. "What is this? Where are these...things coming from!?"

Elster seized an opportunity. The force pushing back was weakening. She gritted her teeth, and aimed.

POP.

"ARGH!"

The Great Revolutionary's Daughter screamed in pain, one remaining hand coming up to press against her face. "MY EYE!"

The force abated completely. The woman's concentration was broken.

"YARGH!" Elster growled, leaping up and tackling the woman.

The office chair pitched over as both people fell to the ground.

"Oof! Ah! You bitch!" the woman grunted, feeling the replika pressing down on top of her. "You stupid bitch! I'll-"

Elster's hands reached around the woman's throat. She started to squeeze.

"Ack!"

Elster glared down into the woman's single remaining eye. Elster stared with complete and utter hate.

"SHUT. UP."

"Yk!" the woman gasped, her hand clapping over the replika's wrist. Her eye went wide.

Elster squeezed. "I'm...doing this...for my debt..."

"Rrgh!" the woman grunted, hand trying to reach up. All she could do is impotently smack the replika's shoulder. "Mch!"

Elster squeezed harder. "...for...Ariane...ngh...my love..."

The woman's legs, already being overtaken by silver worms, kicked violently, to no avail.

Elster squeezed much harder. "...and for me!"

The woman's mind reached out one last time. One last, desperate exercise of bioresonance. Projecting into the replika's mind, in an attempt to influence her actions.

Elster smiled.

You wanted to know who Vashtorr was? she thought. Let. Me. Show. You.

And so, the Great Revolutionary's Daughter beheld Vashtorr. Exactly as Elster remembered him. Eyes and mouth a fiery furnace, curving horns. Staring down from an eternal sky of unwholesome smog, wreathed in blackest lightning, over an endless sea of blood.

Her eye widened, her pupil dilated. Her face twisted into an expression, not of mere terror, but of soul-wrenching horror.

The woman's mouth opened wide. If she had breath, she would have shrieked.

Elster squeezed until her hands hurt.

"Vashtorr!" she yelled, turning her head up to the sky. "Vashtorr the Arkifane! Dark Artificer! Master of the Soul Forges!" She looked down and smiled. "I...ngh...I offer this woman! I offer the Great Revolutionary's Daughter!" She grunted. "I offer...the entire Eusan Nation!"

The woman's eye rolled back in her head. Foam poured from her lips.

Elster frowned, gritting her teeth. "So take it! Take it, you DAEMON FUCK!" She screamed. "TAKE IT ALL!"

The replika kept squeezing after all movement ceased. Kept squeezing until she couldn't feel her fingers.

She did not let go until she saw the Soul Count go down.

"Gah!" Elster gasped, yanking her hands away. She hissed, shutting her eyes. Feeling returned to her hands. It was pain. She flexed her fingers, hearing them pop.

Completely spent, she allowed herself to fall on her back. Breathing hard, she let her arms fall to either side of her.

Her chest shuddered. Her lips curled up.

Elster began to laugh.

"Hah hah hah! Hagh!" Elster coughed, gasping for breath. Then continued laughing. "Hah Hah! Fuck you, you...hah...you fucking bitch! I won!"

Her laughter slowed. Elster covered her eyes with her arm. "Heh...heh...ha...I did it, Ariane..."

The smile faded from Elster's lips. She sat up.

She gazed down at the corpse she made.

Elster didn't feel the least bit sorry for doing it. She was determined never to feel sorry, as long as she lived. She was right, dammit. Sic Semper Tyrannis.

So why did she feel such loss?

The replika shook her head. No point dwelling on it, she thought. She got up.

Boom!

"Ah!" Elster cried, staggering on her hooves as the entire building shook.

It was far worse than every previous time. Louder, more intense. The vibrations rocked the walls and floor. Dust and ceiling tiles broke off and showered the floor. From the window, the sound of the explosion was all the stronger.

Shit! Elster thought, looking to the hole in the wall exposing the room to the open sky. The shield! With her dead, there's nothing protecting the building!

Boom!

The building rocked again. Vibrations ran up Elster's legs, throwing off her balance. "Hrn!" she grunted, waving her aching arms to keep herself upright.

I have to get out of here. Now!

Dodging around broken chairs and other refuse, Elster ran towards the double doors. If she could just reach a set of stairs, she-

BOOM!

The entire floor shook. A deafening bang, impossibly close. An artillery shell exploded on the roof right above her.

"Ah!" Elster gasped, stumbling. As she fell to the ground, flat on her back, she saw the ceiling buckling. Her eyes opened wide. "No!"

CRASH.

Notes:

From a source added to the game later, it's made clear that the Great Revolutionary did not have Bioresonant ability. Or at least, the Nation says as much (their official statements can never be wholly seen as reliable, after all). Truth be told, I forgot all about that bit when I first conceived of this plotline. Too attached to the idea, I proceeded regardless.

Nonetheless, I felt it important to at least address the inconsistency.

(Also, the Great Revolutionary being the Grand Empress's daughter is pure headcanon. I just thought it seemed interesting. Plus, it would be way harder to address how the Grand Empress related to the Emperor of Mankind in this fic going forward, so I had to do it here. Making the three women related was the easiest way to justify the exposition.)

Chapter 6: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

"Hnngh!"

Elster pushed against the chunk of roof pressing down on her chest.

"...ngh!"

Her free hand slipped off, allowing the reinforced sheet metal to fall back down.

Shit, shit, shit, she thought.

Elster grabbed the chunk again, this time to wriggle out from under it.

The sound of metal grinding on metal. Something in the pile shifted.

"YAGH!" she screamed, as she felt a support beam collapse on top of her left arm and leg. "Argh!"

Tears welled in her eyes. She gritted her teeth. Even breathing hurt. Her free hand flailed against the masonry, frantically trying to shift it off just to ease the pain.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"Nnngh...NGH!"

Elster went limp, catching shallow breaths.

A fresh cut on her head wept scarlet fluid into one of her eyes. She shut it, grimacing. Her arm and leg still hurt like hell.

The hell am I going to do? she thought.

Would Eusan Nation forces trek all the way up to the top floor? It's possible, if they thought they could rescue the Founder. But if the shield failed, they'd probably assume the Great Revolutionary's Daughter died. Even if they thought she might still be alive, it'd be insane to run up a building being blown to pieces by artillery!

Even if replikas or gestalts found her, they'd probably just kill her! Or leave Elster for dead!

Wait. Back up. Where's the artillery?

Elster's head whipped back and forth. She couldn't hear any more explosions. Other than soft groaning, which could just be the damaged building settling. Certainly no sharp vibrations.

Her ears picked up something. She snapped her head up.

Light filtered down from the broken section of ceiling. Even through the smoke wafting from burning buildings, and the blue of the daylight, Elster could still see the rings of the gas giant Heimat orbited. They were as beautiful as she'd heard.

She heard more than saw the object, as it hurtled down from the sky. Softly, at first, then louder and closer.

Are they bombing me, too? Elster thought, before renewing her vain efforts to unpin herself. The noise grew to deafening levels. It was right on top of her. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

CRASH!

"AGH!" Elster cried, shutting her eyes as much against a bright light that accompanied the object, as against the surprise at the impact itself. A sharp wave of heat radiated off, to accompany a huge explosion of debris.

Elster coughed, waving off a shower of dust and ozone. Rubbing her eyes, she finally took a peek.

She gaped.

A new hole in the ceiling hadn't been broken through. It had been melted through. Even materials that ought not to melt easily, like wood and plaster, ran like viscous oil. Metal supports and roof cladding glowed warm with the heat as they dripped and sagged.

Dominating the center of the meeting room was a pentagonal metal box, that tapered slightly to the top. Reinforced by a set of five thick struts.

You've got to be shitting me, Elster thought, blinking.

Hissss.

Elster flinched, watching steam vent from the outside edges of the metal pod, near where the surface met the struts. Her jaw dropped as the walls slid outward, then fell outward. Five sets of large, heavy doors opened, bending from the bottom, to form five sets of ramps.

Instinctively, the replika shrank and froze. She couldn't stop staring.

Backlit by internal lights, the hazy forms of ten giants were seen amid the thick steam. They strode out together, wielding huge firearms and clad in power armor. Not power armor of Eusan make, as sported by Schnapper or Mynah units, but a foreign sort. Curved edges. Spherical metal studs set in their legs and on the left shoulder pads. Sporting heavy backpacks with spherical side pieces that vented heat.

By the lights behind and filtering in from above, their armor displayed uniform colors of black and naked steel.

Elster shivered. You. Have. To Be SHITTING me!

The giants stomped forward, scanning around with their boxy weapons. Exhibiting inhuman precision and cohesion. They uttered no words Elster could hear. All she heard was the stomping of their great boots, the clank of plate on plate, and the whir of pistons and servos.

They stopped, for a moment, their heads tilting at each other slightly. Their eyes glowed red.

Two power armored soldiers broke off and took positions on either side of the double doors. As they passed Elster, she noted their comically large shoulder pads bore a symbol of a steel gauntlet on a field of black.

The replika didn't move. She hardly dared breathe. She vibrated with terror. Only her eyes darted about to watch the giants.

As she watched the two giants file through the open double doors, a thought occurred that wasn't, "I'm going to die".

With mental impulse, she activated her radio receiver. She began frantically tuning through frequencies.

Most were logistical chatter broadcast by both invading forces and, more sparingly, Eusan forces still manning their posts. But eventually, she found what seemed to be the correct channel.

"-rridor clear, moving to secure stairs."

"Affirmative."

Their voices were deep. Basal. Gravely. A couple spoke words with a metallic edge, some mechanical augmentation to their vocal cords.

One of the giants in the room looked down at the myriad bodies littering the room. "Many dead hostiles."

"Affirmative."

"Killed by impact?"

The one studying bodies kicked a cadaver of a gestalt over. "Negative. Battle wounds. Auto weapons, blunt objects." They looked up. "Intense battle, and not too long ago."

"Acknowledged."

She blinked. It took Elster a moment to realize she wasn't listening to the Eusan language, but a foreign tongue.

Because of course the invaders wouldn't be speaking her language among themselves. But then how could Elster seamlessly understand their speech, as if a native speaker?

Did the Arkifane tamper with her mind, to provide language proficiency? A pit formed in Elster's stomach. That the Daemon could simply write new information to her brain...

What else might he have implanted?

"Sergeant. Primary target located."

"Acknowledged. Show me."

One of the giants, whose helmet bore different etched markings and a set of additional lenses, stomped over to one of his compatriots. One arm and one leg, instead of sporting armor plates, instead had exposed but sturdy pistons and cables. Suggested the giants were mostly flesh-and-blood beneath their suits, but that some had mechanical prosthetics.

The two disappeared behind the drop pod. From the noise of their armor, it sounded like the Sergeant knelt down.

"Appearance matches pict-capture on file. Also, resembles figure in this primitive wall illustration."

"Affirmative." The kneeling figure paused. "Praetor, have located head of state."

"Acknowledged. Taken alive?"

"Negative."

"Acknowledged. Did she resist?"

"Negative. Target deceased upon arrival. Everyone was."

"Acknowledged. Signs of battle?"

"Affirmative."

"Some internal conflict. Explains the failure of protective shields. Clear the building, Sergeant."

"Affirmative. Over and out."

The Sergeant stomped back into view. "Alpha team, proceed to the next floor and secure ingress. Beta team, search for any survivors. Prep humans for extraction, or questioning if survival chance minimal.

"Eliminate all Abominable Intelligences."

The entire squad broadcast acknowledgment.

Elster's heart started to race.

This is bad, she thought. This is very, very bad.

As the giants stomped closer, Elster froze. With her pinned, possibly broken limbs, she had no chance to either escape or fight the soldiers off. Not quickly, quietly, or easily.

She let her head sag to the ground, limp.

The only chance she had was to play dead. Hope they'd pass her by. Leave to clear lower floors. Maybe then, she could find a way to extricate herself from the rubble. Limp down the stairs, or take the elevator if it still functioned. That way, maybe she-

One of the passing giants, head scanning over the ground, locked eye lenses directly on Elster.

"Heat signature detected."

Elster's heart skipped a beat.

Her eye scanned the ground, seeing a submachine gun at her side. An abandoned firearm from a deceased defender.

"Verifying artificial heartbeat. Abominable Intelligence still functioning."

"Acknowledged. Take it out."

Elster grabbed the SMG, pointed, and squeezed the trigger.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

The shots cascaded over the power armor, and bounced harmlessly off.

Click, Click, Click.

Elster's hand shook violently, gripping the empty weapon. Her teeth gritted, sweat and oxident pouring down her face.

The giant hadn't even flinched. All the bullets accomplished was chip the black paint.

Elster's face paled. The SMG tumbled from her grip.

"...subject is hostile," the giant radio'd, after a beat. Perhaps he was simply surprised Elster even tried.

He raised his huge, boxy gun. "Eliminating Abominable Intelligence."

"Wait!" Elster cried. "No! Please! I-"

Elster saw a flash a blinding white, then blackness.

 

"An unfortunate, but unsurprising, conclusion to a productive mission. Well done, Elster Five One Two."

Elster's eyes shot open.

She gasped, sitting up with a start. Hands felt around her chest, neck, and face. Patted her left arm and leg. Heart raced.

Panting, Elster examined herself. Looked at her hands.

I'm...alive?

She looked up, and saw a sea of scarlet fading off in every direction.

Elster sat on the roof of the Penrose 512, crashed in the shallow red sea dotted with standing stones.

Oh.

"I recognize you are still unaccustomed to the sensation of dying, pseudo-fleshling. But I am a busy Daemon. Come here."

"Ah!" Elster jumped, turning her head sideways (and then up) to see her "employer", on the hull of the ship with her.

Not a vast phantom in the clouds, the Daemon appeared now in the flesh. And in the metal.

He towered over Elster, an amalgam of meat and machinery that met at joints and intertwined. Large, overlapping metal plates with embossed metal trim, the color of bronze. Pale, sickly skin with a prominent accent of purple, dotted with metal plugs and hoses. Large mechanical hooves. Great metal bat wings lacking any membrane, but instead the pinions were sharpened blades.

His torso was hunched, back burdened by some unfathomable, unwholesome engine. Weight of engine and wings, of solid metal, would doubtless overwhelm his lanky frame, were he made of crude matter. One hand ended in a mechanical claw, the other a smaller flesh one that gripped an ornate, spiked hammer of immense size.

When he turned to face her, Elster had no doubt it was Vashtorr the Arkifane. His curving horns, noseless face, and burning eyes and mouth were fresh in her memory.

Elster blinked. Transfixed by his terrible, singular aspect.

"Well?" Vashtorr said, in that voice like a blazing flame, slick oil, and grinding metal. "Why do you dawdle? Attend me."

The replika jumped to her feet and ran over. She drew as close to his side as she dared. Her body shivered at the sight, yet paradoxically felt too warm the proximity. She planted her hooves on the hull, facing him, close enough to (hopefully) convey her attentiveness. "D-Dark Artificer."

"Yes, yes, good." Vashtorr looked away, instead turning his lidless eyes to the sky. "Observe, my servant."

Elster turned her head, and beheld a strange panorama.

Hanging in the sky above them was Heimat, against the backdrop of its gas giant parent. The planet's great rings arching wide, tilted at a 45 degree angle relative to the red horizon in the distance.

The moon hung large in the sky, large enough to show the dozens of kilometers-long Imperium warships and countless smaller escort and landing craft. Even without a fine understanding of celestial mechanics, Elster immediately realized the "planet" the Penrose lay on was too close to Heimat to be physically possible. (Not without tearing both worlds apart, anyway).

As if Elster required further evidence her current situation was not "real" by the material standards to which she was accustomed. That on whatever level she and Vashtorr currently existed, it was not in the physical.

Still, she could not deny it was beautiful.

"Behold, pseudo-fleshthing," Vashtorr said, pointing with the head of his hammer. "The death of the Eusan Nation."

He sighed, or what passed for it with his grilled, inferno maw. "The Eusan Nation had so much promise. Possessed of the power of Bioresonance, and more importantly technology that blurred the boundary between flesh and artifice, life and death, one existence and another. Even harnessing Bioresonance and instantiating it in replikas themselves; mass produced psychic power. All while unconstrained by petty concepts as 'Morality'.

"And yet, in all their years of existence, they squandered their advantages." Vashtorr shook his head. "Allowed their scientific development to stagnate. Their Replika technology used merely to supplement their structures of power, rather than explored as an end unto itself. Limiting itself to replicating the base human form, rather than pushing the limits of form and function.

"Even their leadership showed a profound lack of imagination or vision. To entirely discount courage. AEON and its Founders were so concerned with appearing strong, they broadcast their weakness. Keeping their people in line through lies and fear." Vashtorr looked at Elster. "Take note, servant. Fear and lies are weak and fickle tools. Useful, in their own way, but ultimately brittle. Crave the certainty of steel and well-oiled artifice. Only there does real power lie."

He looked back to the moon, circled from orbit as if by carrion birds. "In the end, the Eusan Nation spun its wheels, to mediocre effect. Wasting precious resources on firing doomed expeditions to the stars, and squandering vast psychic power on protecting a single building. Rather than using its tools and resources to innovate new and terrible ways to exert its will."

The Daemon shook his head. "More ashes. More dust." He clenched his clawed fist. "More disappointment."

Elster frowned. "What happens to the replikas?"

"Hmm? Ah, they go extinct in 'the wild', as it were." Vashtorr toyed with the head of his hammer, idly.

When Elster turned to face him, with a look of distress, he continued. "Verily, with both the Eusan Empire and the Eusan Nation conquered by the Imperium of Man, there are no more industrial powers capable of creating or even maintaining replikas. Not at scale or with reliability. The Imperium, which sees no meaningful distinction between replikas and 'mere' A.I., which it abhors, will hunt replikas down with all the haste its rapidly bloating infrastructure can sustain.

"On Vineta, the starving, impoverished gestalt masses have already, in large numbers, sold out their replika neighbors, friends, and family to their new masters, in trade for the promise of bread." Vashtorr casually studied his metal claws. "Some altruistic gestalt souls will hide replikas, circumstances permitting. But the Imperium, quite by accident, plays the long game. A guerrilla war of attrition replikas and their allies are, in the wake of the collapse of their native polities, unequipped to win. Neural archives seized and destroyed. Factories repurposed to fuel the Imperium's 'Great Crusade'. Scientists and technicians knowledgeable in the building and maintenance of replikas put to death or rendered blind and mute, to eliminate their 'tech-heresy'."

Elster sank to her knees with a loud clank.

"Curiously, it will be the ARAR units that persist the longest."

Elster looked over at the daemon quickly. "Aras?"

"In retrospect, unsurprising. An early generation replika type, with fewer advanced components. Cheap to build, easier to maintain. Fragile, in some ways, but more robust in others. Already used in various industrial and mechanical work, thereby experienced in the very skills needed to effect their own maintenance, compared to other models. And...possessing a marked propensity to dig."

Elster blinked, then looked back at Heimat.

With a wave of his claw, Vashtorr changes the contents of the sky. Not the view of Heimat in orbit above a ringed gas giant, but an icy moon shrouded in smog.

"The moon of Rotfront survives this invasion more intact than any other Eusan system world. It's value as an industrial hub rates Rotfront highly in the eyes of the Compliance Fleet. They exploit their complete air superiority to strangle the moon's supply lines into surrender, while subjecting it to minimal bombardment. It's subjugated citizenry, already accustomed to grinding poverty and political oppression, are put right back to work, often in the same factories, for their new masters. In the millennia to come, the Rotfront "Ice Hives" remain the most enduring relic of Eusan civilization pre-Crusade."

A wave of his claw again, and Elster saw the already vast sprawl of Rotfront's cities grow and expand. First in land area, then in height. Layer upon layer of new city, stacked each upon the last. Until the cities were mountains, teeming with innumerable internal spaces. Their highest spires scraping the upper atmosphere. What did not change, but only magnified, was the endless stream of industrial emissions belched into the air. A snow-capped ant-hill, poisoning the icescape around it.

Some part of Elster imagined Ariane wouldn't be comforted to hear that Rotfront outlasted everything else about their Nation.

"And beneath Rotfront, in a bewildering network of tunnels, will be the last holdouts of replika-kind." He pointed to the base of the hive cities. "Siphoning electricity from the city grid above, to power workshops and hydroponic gardens. In return, unknown to the Imperial governors, the Aras turn their expertise to maintaining deep, ancient systems the city comes to rely on. Underhivers grow to respect and protect the old machine women from the authorities, even as sightings of them become increasingly infrequent."

Elster looked sadly at the Daemon.

"Verily. Even here, replika-kind does not persist. Time and the entropy of institutional knowledge are not on their side. The last two ARAR units perish in each other's arms, succumbing to internal biomechanical maladies they no longer have the knowledge or tools to address. Surrounded by lush plant life, and by half-built ARAR children they lacked the opportunity to finish."

Vashtorr leaned forward, clutching his hammer with barely disguised relish. "Even as they die, the replikas STILL try to engineer a solution. They STILL fight their deaths with every fiber of their being and every ounce of their cleverness." He raised a clawed finger to the air. "THIS I respect. An enclave of replikas that outlasts even the memory of them in the minds of their oppressors by centuries. Through intellect and will alone."

Elster sobbed, face in her hands. "Please," she gasped, sniffing. "Please. Is there no way for them to survive?"

Vashtorr was silent for a moment.

Then, his head turned slowly, deliberately, toward his servant. A lipless, tongueless mouth enunciated carefully. "Not...on their own. Not...without...help."

Elster expected the Daemon to transition into some kind of pitch. A new deal. Where the old devil once again made an offer to the desperate mortal caught at her lowest point.

Yet he did not. Vashtorr turned away. He let the words linger. Pregnant with meaning.

She blinked, transfixed. She looked back at Rotfront, then down to the metal hull beneath her. Elster didn't know what to make of it. But, seeing the seeming importance of the Arkifane's words, she committed them to memory.

A seed was planted.

In an almost certainly affected cough, Vashtorr continued. "Of course, replika-kind will not truly go extinct. After all..." He looked at Elster. "My servant has enacted my will admirably. As I requested, she allowed me to burrow deep into the systems of the Eusan Nation's datastacks. Including systems recording schematics for replika hardware, digitized sequencing of replika DNA, detailed maintenance and manufacturing data, and even their precious neural pattern archives."

Elster's expression lightened. A knot forming in her stomach loosened. "Oh. Right."

"Verily," Vashtorr said. "The Soul Forges, and by extension you, have monopoly access to all recorded lore on the creation of replikas, as known to the Eusan Nation at the farthest extent of its development, the destruction of the Vinetan archive notwithstanding." He spread his claw, palm-up, to Elster. "A resource you have free access to, at no additional charge. Both a reward for your loyalty...and in the understanding..." He closed his claw. "...you will use Replika Lore in a more active and experimental manner than the failed Eusan Nation."

Elster looked down, nodding. "T-thank you, Dark Artificer."

"Speaking of rewards..." Vashtorr turned back toward the sky. Slamming the butt of his hammer down on the hull of the Penrose, the heavens changed back to conquered Heimat. "There is the matter of your debt."

The replika rose to her hooves. "Ah, okay?" she said, raising her fists to her chest expectedly.

"For erasing the failed Eusan Nation, I absolve you of...a portion of your debt."

Elster's eyes, or rather her mind's eye, shot to the Soul Count. A few thousand souls were shaved off.

"T-thank you, Arkifane!" Elster said, lacing her fingers together. She bowed her head.

"For delivering me the soul of a powerful psychic talent, I absolve you a portion of your debt."

Not as many souls disappeared from the Count. A few hundred. But a few hundred fewer souls Elster needed not reap.

Not to mention the immense personal satisfaction of the act. Elster smiled inwardly at this.

"Thank you, Arkifane," she said, bowing her head again.

"And, of course, the matter of infecting the central archive of Heimat with my presence," Vashtorr said. "I consider access to Replika Lore an investment in your future development, combat engineer. Nonetheless, providing the Soul Forges with this resource merits further absolution."

Another few thousand souls erased from the Count.

Elster bowed her head, twice this time. "Thank you, Arkifane."

She halted her obeisance, the smile falling from her face.

Vashtorr turned his head slightly. "A matter amiss, servant?"

Elster hung her head. "Dark Artificer," she said, rubbing her hands together. "Your generosity is much appreciated. But...I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Thoroughly, yes. Your body was rendered unto jellied meat and metallic slag, by Astartes bolter rounds. It is quite unusable."

The replika frowned. "Then, how am I to settle my debt? Or to even go on living?"

"Hmph," grunted the Daemon, looking away. He waved his clawed hand dismissively. "A trifling matter. Your old body is broken. I will fashion you a replacement. Same as the previous, as you disappointingly insist. I have done so once before, I shall do it again."

"Oh! Oh, good," Elster said, sighing. She clutched her heart, tension releasing from her chest.

"And worry not for the equally trifling matter of payment for services rendered in this regard." Vashtorr didn't look at Elster. Indeed, he turned away, seeming extremely bored of the conversation. "The expense will simply be...'added to your tab'."

Elster blinked. "What?"

She looked at her Soul Count.

She saw it jump up. To just north of its original amount, from when she first struck the pact with Vashtorr.

Elster's heart stopped.

"W-what...WHAT!?"

She kept looking at the Soul Count, again and again. Even flipping back and forth a few times through other menus in her internal systems. Just to check if the counter was bugged, somehow. Or that she simply hadn't read the number right.

Elster went pale. Her hands started to shake. A pit formed in her stomach. Her mouth agape.

She was now, however slightly, further away from freeing Ariane than when she started. All the progress she just made, erased in an instant.

"H-hang on! Wait!" Elster yelled, taking a step towards the Daemon. She reached out a hand. "This has to be some mistake! I'm even higher than my original debt."

"So you are. Unfortunate." Vashtorr still didn't look back at the replika.

Elster scowled. "But that's not fair! I did what you asked! Why am I being punished?"

"Hardly a punishment. Rather, a fee. Recreating a replika body for your habitation in material reality is, while trifling for one such as I, not without labor. Nor is constructing or conveying it where you will go to inhabit. My influence extends far, but the barriers between Warp and Realspace make effecting action...tricky." He looked over his shoulders. "That's why I need mortal servants like yourself. To enact my will in material reality. Creating your new body, therefore, is an imposition on my time and resources, that must be repaid in kind."

"But...b-but it's still not fair! I get killed by men in power armor, and all my progress gets wiped out?" Elster clenched her fists, and hunched her back. She was shaking in anger. "It's not my fault!"

"Then perhaps, pseudo-fleshling," Vashtorr said, turning sideways to eye Elster more effectively, "if you find the cost of miraculous resurrection unacceptably burdensome..." He leaned forward, letting the heat from his mouth wash over Elster in a hot wind.

Elster fell back onto her butt, all fury replaced with fear. Sweat broke out on her brow, and she threw her hands up protectively.

"...perhaps...you should endeavor to die less."

The Arkifane rose to his full height once more. "I am not responsible for your deaths, Elster Five One Two. Only in your continued life, until such time as our contract is fulfilled. Until then, I will restore you to functionality in the material world, as frequently as necessary. It is your responsibility to reap souls, and to avoid contributing further to my myriad labors. Comprehend, pseudo-fleshling?"

Elster's anger roiled beneath the surface. But so did her fear, and her horror.

She gulped, and, gritting her teeth, she bowed. Not merely a nod of the head, but - as she was already on the ground - a full grovel. On her knees, hands and forehead touching the Penrose hull.

"Y-yes, Dark Artificer," she said, chest heaving. "I understand."

"Excellent," Vashtorr said, before turning away again. "Meditate on my exceeding generosity, mortal. My indulgence of your needs and requests is contingent, not on any altruism or base affection, but because it serves my purposes better. Forget not your service to me is bearable, even pleasant, at my sufferance alone. Pray I don't interpret you as more burdensome than boonsome."

Elster's fingers dug into the metal hull of the ship, scratching its paint. Her voice cracked. "Y-yes. I-I understand."

"We will speak again, once I have completed your replacement body." The Daemon's bladed wings spread. "I have a multitude of further labors, through which you may endeavor to gain my favor. Until then..."

Without another word, Vashtorr took flight. The view of Heimat and its gas giant disappeared, a roiling cloud of smog washing over it. Into this industrial tempest, the Arkifane disappeared, wreathed in black lightning.

Elster, chest heaving and teeth clenched, rolled to her side.

All the struggle. All the pain. All the murder. All the damnation.

All wasted.

Face buried in her hands, Elster began to cry.

Chapter 7: Kept You Waiting, Huh?

Notes:

And now for something completely different.

Wake up.

Hssss.

Elster stepped from her calibration pod. She stretched and flexed her shoulders, banishing the stiffness from long, motionless hours.

Her hoofsteps tapped on the metal floor grating, as she ambled over to a hook on the wall.

Donning her government-assigned hat, Elster picked up a clipboard and exited her room.

The lower floor of the Penrose 512 remained unchanged. Sterile, tidy. Calm. Elster enjoyed the calm.

She flipped through the papers on her board. She did an inspection pass around the storage rooms, ensuring every box was safely secured. While keeping crates shut and tied down was an inconvenience, not doing so constituted a safety hazard in the event of impact or sudden stop.

Not that walking around at all times wasn't also a safety hazard. But regulations were regulations. It's not as though there was any hurry.

Finding no obvious irregularities, Elster unclamped the top page from the checklist and sorted it on the bottom of the stack. She didn't remember if all the tasks on that page were completed. But she trusted her system. If she woke up, whatever was pressing in the rotation the previous day went to the bottom of the stack.

Even if she forgot something, it would come around again. If a problem wasn't obvious, it could probably wait.

Stowing the clipboard back in her room, Elster grabbed a ration box from storage (making sure to close and secure afterwards). Tucking the box under her arm, she climbed the ladder to the upper gallery.

She was about to approach the mess hall door when it slid open by itself.

Ariane Yeong walked through, wearing her Penrose uniform jumpsuit. A half-eaten protein bar in one hand, another clipboard in the other.

"Oof," Ariane mumbled, swallowing quickly. She took a brief glance up to see Elter, before her eyes went back to the clipboard. "There you are, Elster. I was just-"

Elster threw her arms around Ariane. Hugged her close.

"Eh?" Ariane said, her arms out to either side holding their cargo. She craned her neck back in surprise. Then, she returned the hug, giving an awkward smile. "Uh, nice to see you too, Ellie. Did you miss me?"

The replika kept the hug going for one, two, three seconds. Then, she let Ariane go. She looked down at the gestalt woman. With her short white hair and red eyes.

Yep. Still the most beautiful thing Elster had ever seen.

Ariane nodded, using the hand with the protein bar to scratch the side of her face. "So, did you sleep alright, or..."

The gestalt flinched and grew silent, as Elster cupped Ariane's chin in her hand and brought their lips together.

Ariane's eyes were wide. She blushed. When the surprise faded, she closed them again, leaning into the kiss. Felt the replika's warmth. Tasted her.

When Elster pulled away, Ariane still couldn't stop blushing. "W-wow," she said. "You must really have missed me. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," Elster said. She looked away, pursing her lips. "I just...I don't know..." She frowned.

Ariane, lips quivering uneasily, decided to relieve the tension by leaning up on her tippy toes and planting a kiss on Elster's cheek when she wasn't looking.

The replika looked down at the gestalt and blushed.

"Now we're even," Ariane said, rubbing the back of her head. She realized she did it with her clipboard hand and brought it up in front of her. Her eyes lowered to the clipboard. "R-right, I was going to say. I seem to have...misplaced the last inventory manifest." She took a bite from her protein bar. "Mrh nehd do..."

"Hungry?" Elster asked, the sides of her lips turning up.

Ariane, blushing, chewed quickly and swallowed hard. "Ugh...right, sorry. We need to do an inventory of our supplies." She showed the unfilled copy of the inventory manifest. "Just to make sure we have an up-to-date record. I don't want us to run out of something and not know."

Elster nodded. She shifted her ration box into her hand.

"Oh, sorry, have you eaten yet?" Ariane said, protein bar halfway to her lips again.

Elster shook her head.

"Yeah, I feel that," Ariane said, nodding. "For some reason, I woke up this cycle ravenous. I ate a whole ration box, and I'm still peckish." She looked over her shoulder, taking another bite from the bar. "Iff ygh wahn...gulp...you can eat, and catch up with me downstairs."

"No." Elster quickly gripped Ariane's shoulder.

The gestalt, chewing on another bite of protein, looked down at the replika's hand. "Uh..."

Elster removed the hand. "Sorry, I..." She shook her head. "I don't...I just..."

She frowned. Elster thought for a moment, then said, "I can eat the protein bar from my box, and eat the rest later. I'd like to spend more time with you, I think."

"More than we already do?" Ariane said, tilting her head. "It's not like we have anywhere else to go." She shrugged, then smiled. "Although if my Ellie is feeling a little needy today..."

Elster blushed.

"...I guess we don't have to do the inventory," Ariane said, waving the clipboard. "It can wait another day."

"No, we can still do it," Elster said.

Ariane narrowed her eyes and grinned slyly. "Oh, I bet we can do it, alright." She wagged her eyebrows.

Elster went beet red.

Ariane laughed, waving her hand. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" She turned around on the spot. "We can wait until you're finished eating before we go down. How's that sound?"

Elster smiled. "I'd like that."

 

"Whew!"

Ariane reclined on a storage box, as Elster fastened it back to the floor. The gestalt fanned herself with the clipboard. "Exhausting work," she said.

"We've only finished two rooms," Elster said, standing up.

"And all that pulling out cargo, checking it, and writing notation is tiring!" Ariane said, waving the clipboard for emphasis. She giggled.

Elster smiled. "Are you feeling okay, Ariane?" she said. "You don't need to push yourself if you don't want to."

"No, no, I mean it's mentally tiring!" Ariane said, tapping her head. "It's boring!" She stood up and stretched. "I'm actually feeling really good."

"You're sure?" Elster said, reaching over and touching Ariane's shoulder.

"Yeah! I don't know when I last felt this good." Ariane placed her hand over Elster's. She smiled. "How about we head back upstairs? I think we've done enough work to call it a productive day, huh?"

Elster smiled and nodded. "Okay," she said. "If you're so tired. We can call it day."

"Sooooo tired," Ariane drawled, throwing her arm over her head in a mock swoon. "Oh Elster, won't you carry this poor gestalt? All this reading labels and making tallies has me utterly drained!"

Elster took the clipboard from Ariane and set it down on a box. "It would be my pleasure," she said, bowing. "...my lady."

Ariane giggled, allowing Elster to tuck her arm behind her legs and hoist her up. The gestalt draped her arms around the replika's neck. "My hero! Heh heh heh!"

Elster carried her bubbly paramour through the sliding door and into one of the cargo access rooms. "So, my fair lady," she said, "what do you want to do upstairs?"

Ariane leaned in and gave Elster a kiss on the check. "I can think of a couple things," she said, using a finger to trace the contours of Elster's face.

They leaned together and shared a kiss.

---

CRACK.

The boat bounced and lurched in the surf. Rain poured down, threatening to drown the vessel just as thoroughly as the waves it tore through.

Her hand gripped the rear-mounted motor like a vice. Driving it through the storm.

A set of green-lensed night-vision goggles peeked out from under the hood of the olive drab raincoat.

CRACK.

Through the goggles, she saw her target in the distance as the lightning flashed. The island jutting from the sea. Atop it, silhouetted against the stormy sky, stood the enormous satellite dish. Pointing impudently to the sky.

Elster gripped the motor stick harder and turned the knob, gunning the engine.

 

"Achoo!"

The Imperial sentry rubbed his cold nose. "Karkin' weather," he grumbled, hefting his lasgun. "Rather be on the front lines. Hate planets like this."

He followed the winding trail of stone steps, passing between overgrown bushes and rocky outcroppings. Slow going, to avoid slipping on the wet rocks or the slick mud.

Downhill, his trail hugged the curving edge of a rocky cliff that rose high in the air to his left. He ventured a short look over the edge. The glow from his chest-mounted flashlight disappeared into the abyss. Only when lightning cracked could he see the waves and the rocks below.

He hated coming this way. The captain was insane, sending him out this far. Because, as he kept telling him, "you'd have to be insane to paddle out in a storm like this".

The Imperial rounded the corner, and saw the boat bobbing in the water. Held to land only by a thick rope, staked into a crack in the naked stone.

"What the...?" the sentry muttered, detaching the light and raising it.

The boat was empty. Indeed, the violent storm had capsized it. It bobbed up and down, undercarriage exposed, only its wooden construction and whatever air trapped beneath keeping it afloat.

Was that there before?, he thought. He groped blindly for the radio at his belt.

A hand clapped over his mouth.

CRACK.

Before he could even utter a stifled sound, he saw the flash of lightning glint off a naked blade. In the dark to follow, he felt it slip into his neck.

The Imperial choked and sputtered as the hand released him. He clawed at his neck, sliced from ear to ear. The fresh blood was lost in the rain and the darkness. He collapsed to the cold, wet stones.

CRACK.

Sprawled on the ground, he saw the silhouette of his killer against the brightened sky.

He didn't hear the replika silently offer his soul to the Arkifane.

Elster waited until the guttural moans ended, and all but the barest twitching subsided. She pawed his body, pulling out objects from his belt and pockets. A laspistol. A combat knife. Two spare power packs. Two Imperial protein bars. From his right front pocket, a silver locket, on a tarnished chain. By the light of the man's stolen flashlight, she saw inside a tiny portrait of some young lady on one side, and a tiny landscape of desert dunes.

The replika snapped the locket shut in an instant. Stowed the trinket in her bag. It would trade nicely for ammo or food. Banished thoughts of his personhood from her mind.

She could still see the naked metal skulls of replikas, seen in the flashes of lightning over the open mass grave just up the hill. The sight, the feeling, wouldn't leave.

Elster rationalized her transgression.

 

First, the man in the watchtower.

Elster climbed up the ladder, relying on the constant patter of the rain and the peels of thunder to mask her hoof-falls on the steel rungs. She saw the Imperial manning the spotlight, turning it slowly down on the ground below.

The light jerked slightly and stopped, as she plunged the knife into his back. He gasped into her hand, seizing up.

Second, one of two sentries patrolling around the boxy pen of chain-link fences. This Imperial came to Elster, as he was walking back towards the tower when the spotlight stopped.

"Hey!" he yelled, at the base of the tower. Voice raised to be heard above the storm. "Everything okay up there?"

When he heard no response, he scaled the ladder, muttering curses to himself. "Look man, if everyone else has to walk around in this storm, you can man the light under your little canopy."

Elster swung down from said canopy when he crested the ladder. Just as he blasphemed gods he wasn't legally allowed to worship anymore (by Imperium law), her knife found his neck.

Third, the sentry coming back from his patrol path. Seeing both the stationary spotlight and the absence of his compatriot's own torch.

He picked up his light and shined it into the caged area. The soaked, shivering forms of POWs from the inferior, conquered Empire caught his light. They raised hands to shield their eyes.

CRACK.

By lightning, the POWs saw a figure come up behind the sentry, red-slick knife flashing.

They began to gasp and whisper among themselves as the flashlight tumbled to the ground. Men and women staggered or pulled each other to their feet. Those with the strength or life left to stand, that was. They listened, straining their eyes to see the murder in the dark.

One prisoner reached a hand under the fence, trying to grasp at the flashlight just out of reach.

A hoof kicked it over, obligingly.

When the light was turned back towards the fight, the prisoners saw a replika garbed in an olive drab raincoat. Hanging from her shoulders was a pilfered lasgun. Green lenses glinted out from under her hood. The bloody knife shined in the light, being washed clean by the pouring rain.

Elster turned the knife over in her hand, letting the rain clean what was left of the red. Flicking away the moisture, she sheathed the weapon. Her hand raised the visor on her nightvision goggles, then she hefted her new lasgun.

The prisoners backed up, barking curses and raising their mud-covered hands. Some variation of "wait a minute, wait a minute!" or "don't shoot!" came out from various mouths.

Elster stared impassively. She'd been putting off making a decision about the prisoners. To sacrifice? To leave for dead?

There were maybe a couple dozen people. Her mind's eye looked over at the Soul Count.

The amount she'd get from them was minuscule. Negligible, in the grand scheme. The amount she'd lose from dying a preventable death...

"Guten Morgen," she said, keeping her lasgun in a neutral position. "Who speaks for you?"

A man with dark skin and a shaved head stepped forward. He shook, from the freezing rain or leashed wariness, Elster couldn't tell. He took his position regardless, puffing out his chest. "That'll be me. Sergeant Kenyatta, of Her Worship's Army. Or what's left of it."

He squinted at her. "You're an LSTR model," he said. He groaned, shaking his head. "Just my luck, a heathen replika."

"..." Elster's expression didn't change.

The prisoners behind Kenyatta began whispering (or as much whispering as can be done in the downpour). He raised a hand to quiet them. "So, what does a soldier of the 'Glorious Eusan Nation' want from us simple folk from the Empire? Hmm? You here to kill us?"

"The Nation is dead," Elster said. "I'm here for my own reasons." She pointed uphill, towards where the giant satellite dish appeared periodically from the lightning. "You know the dish."

"Know it? We took it, before the, uh, Invaders..." He pointed toward the sentry cooling on the ground. "...before they showed up. Thought this island was easy to hold, when your people retreated from Vineta." He narrowed his eyes. "You know you sound Vinetan. A local? Did your nation leave you behind?"

"...something like that," Elster said. She gestured back to the dish. "I need to use that dish. Personal matter. I'll let you out, if you help me retake the island."

"I mean, if you've got a few more guns, I suppose we could," Kenyatta said. "Would be nice to get out of the rain. Maybe get some revenge. Lost a lot of good people to these fucks." He frowned. "It's just that...how do we know we can trust you won't kill us?"

"If I wanted you dead, I'd just shoot you now," Elster said. "I'm not particularly fond of the Empire. But I didn't like the Nation much, either. And I dislike this new Imperium even more." She tapped her lasgun impatiently. "So, would you like to join me killing them? Or would you rather stay out here in the rain all night?"

Kenyatta made a big show of looking at his people, and visibly weighing his options. But both he and Elster knew what the answer would be.

"Praise the Empress, boys and girls," the Sergeant said, "this nice replika lady is going to take us hunting. Invaders Must Die." He raised his fist, and the crowd repeated his proclamation, in varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Elster motioned for the crowd to get back, which they did more quickly when she pointed her lasgun at the chained latch on the fence gate. When she was sure the POWs were all out of the way, she fired. The whole field lit up red as the directed energy blasted through the iron. After a few shots, the latch and chain were melted into slag. With a kick, she swung the gate open.

The prisoners blinked and whistled.

Kenyatta shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "Never get used to those ray guns." He motioned for his troops to file out. "Grab those who can't walk, find someplace dry."

"My boat is on the east side, down the path," Elster chimed in. "It capsized in the storm."

Kenyatta nodded. "You six, go sort that boat out," he ordered, pointing at a group of prisoners. "The rest, you're on me."

As he exited the fenced area, he stopped by the replika. He noticed the las pistol she held out, grip forward.

"There's three downed sentries here, two more scattered about a hundred feet north, by the...the uh..."

"The mass grave, yeah," Kenyatta said, nodding. "Sorry you had to see that. I knew plenty of those replika."

Elster nodded. "Anyway, each sentry has a lasgun, a laspistol, and a knife."

Kenyatta nodded, motioning to his people. "You heard the lady, get your asses equipped. One weapon per man."

"What about women?" called a female voice.

"Shut it," Kenyatta said. He took the offered laspistol.

Which he then pointed at Elster.

Elster didn't flinch. Her expression remained passive. "..."

All other prisoners didn't move. They watched with trepidation.

"You know, I lost a lot more friends in the war to Nation soldiers like you," Kenyatta said, keeping his aim steady. "Why shouldn't I just kill you now?"

"Aside from needing all the help you can get, taking this island?" Elster said. "Because I didn't kill you when I had the chance."

The Sergeant waited.

"...and because for all the bad blood we share," Elster continued, "we understand each other. This 'Imperium of Man' treats us all like dirt. Or worse. They destroy everything we have or are, and think nothing about it. At least we share our hate."

Kenyatta sniffed. "Now you and I know that's all bullshit..." He lowered the pistol. "...but fuck it, I've heard worse reasons not to kill. Plus, you're not worth the bullet." He looked down at the ground. "Or the...laser...bullet. You know what I mean."

"..."

He made to walk past her, but Elster held out a hand.

"Speaking of bullets..." she said. The replika pulled out a small power pack. "You'll need this too."

The Sergeant took the power pack and continued walking. Then his eyes widened, and he stopped. Looked at the bottom of his new laspistol. "...daughter of a bastard." He looked back. "When were you going to give me the battery to this thing? When we were in combat?"

"Only when I was sure you weren't going to shoot me in the back," Elster said, walking right past him. "Thank you for showing me so quickly. You even had the courtesy to point it at my front." She looked back. "You know how to operate that thing?"

"Point and shoot, right?" the Sergeant said, loading his weapon.

"There's a safety switch on the side, too," Elster said, raising her lasgun and pointing where the switch would be on a laspistol.

Kenyatta studied the weapon and undid the safety. He motioned for his people to move, then followed Elster.

As they trudged up the hill towards the main set of buildings, beyond the treeline, he said, "What's the plan?"

"Use the storm as cover, take out soldiers one by one," said Elster, checking the charge on her lasgun. "Quietly as possible. Remember that lasguns make little noise, but a lot of light."

"Good a plan as any," Kenyatta said, shrugging. He turned to the POWs and motioned attention. "Low and slow, people. This is a sneaking mission. Those with knives, you're on point. We ambush these invaders, quiet as a mouse. Folks with guns, you cover them. Only start shooting when the jig is up." He turned and held his laspistol up, continuing to walk. "We don't want to cause a scene."

 

"RRRRAGH!"

Elster was thrown into the refrigerator, hard enough to dent the cheap aluminum surface. "Agh!" she grunted. She felt her lasgun fly from her hand, heard it clatter on the floor.

As she landed on her ass, she winced. Something in her back popped.

"Ah! Help me! Hel-"

An oversized hand clapped on the prisoner's head, as his body was raised off the ground. With one motion, the hand yanked, pulling the poor bastard's head clean off.

The grotesque, immense parody of humanity tossed body and head aside. "You wreck dinnah!" the ogryn growled, spittle flying from his mouth. "Make you pay!"

"Yeah! Get 'em, big man!" came a voice from beyond the serving window, spoken in the tongue of the Imperial invaders. Red flashes shown out from the mess hall, as a full blown gunfight was in progress. Somewhere above, the roar of the rain pattered on the corrugated metal roof.

"Kenyatta!" Elster yelled, diving for her lasgun. Instead, she met the steel-toed boot of the ogryn. "Oof!" She tumbled back, rolling and crawling to get space.

"I'm a little busy at the moment!" came a voice from the mess hall. "Shit, this stings!"

The replika unholstered a mundane pistol and unloaded the entire clip at the monster.

Throwing his huge, meaty arms in front of his face, the ogryn just let the shots hit him. Blood splattered from wounds across his torso, legs, and arms. They impacted with wet thuds.

"Heh heh heh," the ogryn laughed, peeking over his meaty fists. His crooked teeth were displayed in a grin. "Tickles."

Elster's eyes wide, focused on the ogryn, as she frantically patted her belt for another magazine. Gritted her teeth.

Even when they're not in armor, she thought, these giants just don't die! Fuck my life!

The ogryn turned to his side and grabbed an oven with both hands.

CRUNCH.

Wires and exhaust pipes snapped and torn, as the monster lifted the oven effortlessly above his head.

Shit! Elster dove sideways.

"Ragh!" the ogryn grunted, throwing the oven hard as possible where Elster previously lay. It bounced off the floor and crashed into the wall, sending shards of metal and loose metal burners flying everywhere.

Elster backed up to the fridge, steadying herself on the handle.

The ogryn shook his head rapidly, once, twice. Drool flew everywhere. "Boss said no eatin' metal people," he grunted, stomping forward a pace. He was more mumbling to himself than Elster. "Won't do it, not again. Not afta last time."

Elster blinked.

"WHAT!?" she cried, gripping the fridge handle. Mouth agape.

"Rah!" the ogryn grunted, throwing a punch.

Elster dodged, pulling the fridge door open as she did.

"Huh?" said the monster, stumbling forward as his fist overshot and crunched a metal fridge rack out of shape.

Seeing this, Elster gritted her teeth and slammed the door against the ogryn's muscled arm half a dozen times in quick succession. Sweat was pouring down her face, her eyes wild.

"Ow, ow, ow!" the ogryn moaned, seemingly more annoyed at the banging than really hurt. "Knock it off!"

He threw a backhand punch and succeeded in knocking the fridge door off its hinges. Elster was sent flying.

"Agh!" Elster winced, landing in the steel sink. Her back armor panel broke the faucet off, causing water to spray against her back wildly. Luckily, she still wore her raincoat. "Fuck!"

She looked up, and saw the ogryn stomp over, towering above her.

Shit, shit, shit! she thought, looking frantically around.

She saw a wood block, with many cooking knives sticking up from it.

The ogryn gritted his teeth, weaved his fingers together, and raised the double fist up above his head. "Kill metal girl! Hrah!" He swung down with full force.

Elster scrambled to the side counter just as the fists came down, watching the sink crumble like an aluminum can. Water sprayed everywhere. The replika reached down and pulled two large knives from the wood block.

"Ah!" grunted the ogryn, as the broken faucet shot water at his face. "Wet!"

Elster jumped, twisting in the air. She locked her legs around the ogryn's neck. Her arms raised high above her head.

"Wuh!?" the monster said, looking down at the hooved legs.

"Rah!" Elster cried, stabbing the monster in both eyes. Scarlet splattered her arms and face.

"FAAAGH!" the ogryn cried, craning his neck back and squealing. "Muh eyes! Muh eyes!"

Elster unhooked her legs, tumbling backwards to the floor. She quickly dropped her bloodied cooking utensils and scrambled away.

The kitchen was a riot of noise. Stomping and screaming and cooking fixtures breaking under a blind giant's senseless thrashing. "Can't see! Boss! Help me!"

"Ahem!"

The ogryn stopped, head whipping around for the source of the voice. "Ugh?"

Elster pointed her lasgun up at the giant. "Hold still, please."

ZAP-ZAP-ZAP-ZAP-ZAP.

Rapid fire las-bolts fired out. The beige walls flickered red by the las-light. The concentrated energy engulfed the top of the ogryn's body. His flesh, superheated, burst like a ripe melon.

The room shook as the creature's body tottered and fell. Floor tiles cracked and broke off with the impact. Vibrations ran up Elster's legs. A toaster was tossed from the counter and clattered to the floor.

All shooting in the mess hall stopped abruptly at the sound.

"...holy shit...they killed the big man!"

Elster peeked over the lip of the kitchen window, aimed where the voice came from, and sprayed lasfire.

"Ah!" the Imperials screamed, either falling dead or being forced to abandon their positions. The latter, too, were gunned down as they ran by POWs from their own cover.

Checking once more behind her, Elster hopped through the window. She checked her corners, then sighed.

"G-good work, lady."

Elster jogged over to the north entrance of the mess hall, just in time to see Kenyatta get pulled to his feet by one of his men.

"Are you alright?" she said.

The Sergeant rubbed his leg. The outer thigh was blackened, with a nasty (but cauterized) wound. "I've been worse. Fuck, that stings!" He steadied himself against the doorframe. "You get that...whatever that was?"

Elster nodded. "Will you be able to walk?"

"Not well, but I'll manage," Kenyatta said. "I'm alive, and that's what matters. Praise the Empress, and pass the ammunition." After a beat, he turned to one of his soldiers. "I meant that literally, on both counts, private!"

"Ah! Praise the Empress, sir!" the prisoner said, fishing a laspistol power pack from his belt and handing it over.

Kenyatta ejected the spent pack and loaded the new. "Amen."

"Those are rechargeable," Elster said, pointing to the empty power pack on the floor. She began reloading her own lasgun, making sure to stow the slightly-used power pack in her bag.

"No shit?" Kenyatta said, looking down. "Soldier, pick that up."

"Yes sir!"

The Sergeant rubbed his wounded leg again. "I'll be alright here, lady. I'm going to oversee my people clearing out the rest of this place. You head up to that dish control tower. Do what you need to do."

Elster nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant."

She walked ten paces out the door, before stopping. She turned around. "Sergeant."

Kenyatta looked over.

Elster saluted.

The man nodded, and gave his own half-assed salute back.

Chapter 8: The New Numbers

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

"Ah!"

ZAP.

Elster checked her corners, then lowered her lasgun.

The dish control room floor was littered with smoking corpses. Soldiers, and a robed figure shooting sparks from damaged augmetics.

Elster stepped over and shot the tech-priest again, hoping to silence its internal power source. By sheer luck, the sparking stopped.

Wandering around the room, Elster took stock of her options. The center of the room was dominated by a set of metal filing cabinets, with many drawers open or removed entirely. The tops of the cabinets, tables, and floor were covered in files and documents. The tables around the room were lined with computer monitors in ugly beige plastic. Much like the hardware the Eusan Nation housed in most facilities.

Probably because they were the same equipment, just changed hands several times as the war(s) on Vineta went on.

Elster looked out the windows, which ringed the room in as close to 360 degrees as possible. From the windows facing down to the building complex, she saw red flashes in and around the structures. Looking out the opposite direction, she saw the first glimmer of dawn on the horizon. The rain had stopped, and the clouds started to dissipate.

She sighed, removed the nightvision goggles from her head, and set them down. She stretched, feeling a pinch in her back. She ignored it.

Drawing upon her memory of the intel given, Elter located one computer, sat down, and started typing. Sure enough, she found the controls for the dish itself. Frantic typing, and the replika input the intended coordinates. The computer graphic of the dish began to oscillate between two frames of animation, while a text helpfully displayed "Recalibrating Dish, Please Wait".

A quick look out the window, and even by the weak light of pre-dawn, she saw the massive dish slowly turn.

It would take several minutes before the dish would be in proper alignment.

Elster tapped her hoof. She rubbed her nose with the back of her wrist.

Bored, she started looting bodies. Refilled ammo supplies. Acquired some weird tech-priest tools. Would need to figure those out later, might be useful. She even swiped an untouched apple from someone's plate.

Taking a big bite, Elster leaned on the edge of a desk. Her hand touched a stack of documents. Looking down at it, still eating, she began leafing through. The stack seemed to come from a box, with another stack of looser pages and folders to the side. Since the facility was a semi-recent acquisition by Imperium occupiers, Elster guessed the new (now former) owners were taking stock of their information assets.

The lion's share of documents in the stack were repeated attempts to coordinate activities with Eusan Empire forces in space or the other planets. Messages that became increasing sporadic. (Or, since Elster was reading documents backwards, they started at almost nothing and then became more substantive as she dug).

One set of documents caught Elster's attention more than any other. So much so, she put down her half-eaten apple and started reading intently. She read the sheet multiple times, then leafed through the stack again to find any more references. That stack had nothing, but she cross-referenced the information at the top of the page. She walked over to another filing cabinet, that the Imperials hadn't had a chance to read, and pulled a drawer open.

She pulled out a file folder and opened it.

This is it, she thought, checking the two sheets.

Elster sat down at a desk chair, placed the folder in her lap, took back up her apple, and proceeded to read.

Or rather "scan". She allowed her internal memory module to rapidly scan the documents. Committing them to digital storage.

What she was learning, through skimming the document, was very interesting.

The computer dinged sometime after she finished her apple, and a few minutes before she finished scanning the documents.

Rising to her hooves, Elster tucked all the documents into the folder. She picked up a metal wastepaper bin, and balanced it on top of the smoldering corpse of the tech-priest. She fished a lighter from her pocket, and proceeded to set the folder on fire.

"Woah! Are we having a barbecue in here?"

Sergeant Kenyatta limped into the room, just in time to see Elster drop a fully burning stack of papers in the wastebin.

"Not quite," Elster said, rubbing her hands together.

"So was this whole thing a matter of espionage?" Kenyatta said, leaning on a desk. "Not that the Empire is really in a fit state to do anything about it."

"Not a matter of state espionage," Elster said, walking over to another computer terminal. "Just something I'd personally like to exploit. If the Imperium reclaims ownership of this place, it's best they don't get their hands on it." She looked at all the filing cabinets. "None of this should wind up in their hands, really."

"Yeah, probably," Kenyatta said, nodding. "I'll have my people go through and burn it, probably. Maybe detonate some explosives, to take out that dish. Later, of course, when we have time."

"I'll be done with it in a minute, anyway." Elster pulled over a microphone. She tapped a few keys at the computer, then flipped the microphone switch. She held up a finger to her lips.

Kenyatta nodded and folded his arms, silent.

With a single keystroke, the computer read "Broadcasting".

She pulled a personal cassette player from her bag and depressed a button. It began playing a melody. A very familiar melody to citizens of the Eusan Nation. When the music was finished, she clicked the cassette player off.

Elster raised the microphone to her lips.

"Achtung! Achtung! 483903. 483903. 772091. 772091. 231870. 231870. 563091. 563091."

She reached down and tapped a key, cutting off the transmission.

The Sergeant tapped his foot. "So, a numbers station?"

Elster nodded, packing her things. The nightvision goggles fit back on her head. "You're free to use the dish as you wish, for as long as you choose to stay."

"To what end, though?" Kenyatta said, watching Elster begin to leave.

"It was nice working with you, Sergeant," Elster said, waving her hand.

Kenyatta limped over to the computer. He checked the coordinates. "Wait, this says the dish is just pointed into deep space. Where is this signal supposed to go?"

Elster stopped at the door. She shrugged. "Who knows? I certainly don't." She looked over her shoulder and gave a slight smile. "Perhaps, in a few hundreds years, someone on another world will receive it. They might know what it means."

She saluted. "Auf Wiedersehen, Sergeant Kenyatta! And may the Grand Empress bless you."

With that, the former Eusan Nation replika departed. Leaving the Eusan Empire Sergeant at a loss for words.

 

Sssshp.

The shuttle docked. Elster shuffled back through the two-person vehicle, through the airlock, and into the elevator. In one hand, she carried a duffle bag stuffed with supplies pillaged from her excursion. She sat it down on the floor of the elevator, then removed her helmet. When she reached the top, she disrobed, stuffing the environment suit into the receptacle.

The replika winced, arching her back. Not for the first time since beginning her ascent, she bent her arm back, trying to rub the sting in her spine. To no avail. She couldn't reach. She felt the rattle and pop. Elster sighed.

She picked up her bag and entered the Penrose 313 proper.

The ship was not especially clean. Elster didn't bother cleaning much, unless it was particularly unsightly or likely to cause mold. She definitely didn't tidy. She was fairly certain rats were stowed away somewhere, but she had no visual confirmation.

The halls were packed with equipment she accumulated. She tossed the duffle bag on a crate, unsecured. She would sort it out later. Or not.

Elster entered the mess hall. The only room she still consistently took pains to keep reasonably clean. Small crates were stacked on one wall. She fished a ration box from it at random. One of Imperium make, unfortunately. Prepared the food at the stove, trying to wring as much culinary value from the food given to the Imperial Army. It wasn't even intended for the Excertus Imperialis, but for the Auxilia, the forces left behind to garrison newly conquered worlds.

She grimaced, chewing reluctantly. Even slathered in spices stolen from a Militia Army captain's private kitchen, it tasted like trash. It almost made her feel bad for the Imperial Army. Almost.

Elster took her sweet time doing this. Even taking a moment to put up her hooves, and rest her eyes.

I know you're there, boss. You can't hide your presence from me.

The replika groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She rose to her hooves, grudgingly. Trying unsuccessfully again to rub her aching back.

She walked out of the mess hall, through medical, and into the reactor room.

"Ah, how nice of you to visit."

Elster sighed.

She hated talking to the daemon.

Where once this room, like other Penrose exploration vessels, contained a mundane nuclear reactor, it now contained...well, Elster was fairly sure it still had a nuclear reactor in there. Somewhere. Under all the unwholesome machinery and meat.

(Vashtorr assured her it wouldn't leak radiation., which for obvious personal reasons was a big plus for Elster.)

Bulging from between cogs, pipes, and circuitry, were fleshy bits. Running a spectrum between a pink-magenta and blue, with some purples in between. Colors that subtly shifted over time, like a film of oil on water. There were also eyes, and mouths. All of this of a distinctly unnatural quality. If it consisted of mundane matter at all, the flesh was imbued with exotic qualities that violated Realspace physics.

Mik'hul the Incandescent was a daemon. Specifically a "Daemon Engine", a demonic entity made to inhabit a machine as its physical vessel. Daemon Engines were a particular specialty of the Soul Forges. Daemons either accepted transformations of this kind under the promise it would better allow them to serve their particular god, or accept it as the cost for returning to the material realm after being banished. (Normally daemons, once banished, must spend some amount of time reforming in the Warp; the intervention of the Soul Forges bypassed this). In either event, the daemon was saddled with a quota of souls to meet before they can be freed from Vashtorr's service. In this way, Mik'hul and Elster had that much in common.

Elster didn't know how Mik'hul came to be in Vashtorr's service, nor why he in particular was embedded in the Penrose 313. Elster didn't want to know.

"So...you wanna pledge your soul to Tzeentch?" Mik'hul said, the mouth used to voice its words changing from moment to moment. "Offer's still open."

"No."

"Come on, you get some nice magic, maybe knowledge of the world's secrets. It'll be great!"

"No."

Disturbingly, Elster was becoming familiar enough with Mik'hul to read some of its flesh movements. It bulged and writhed in what Elster came to understand was the equivalent of a shrug. "Eh, I tried. How's Vineta?"

"Wet." Elster winced, arching her back again.

"Back trouble?" Mik'hul said.

She shrugged. "Loose bolt or something. I can't reach it." She used to have Ariane for that. Elster frowned.

"If you get me the tool, I could fix it for you, boss." One of Mik'hul's maws opened, unfurling a long, blue, forked tongue. The forked ends wiggled together suggestively, like two boneless fingers. "Interested?"

"No."

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes. "Just connect me to Vashtorr."

"Alrighty then! One moment!"

Eyes a disturbing solid yellow color developed tiny black pupils, that then dilated until almost the whole orb was black. Mouths muttered an admixture of blasphemous gutter speech and machine dial tone. When they first started working together, Elster had to train the mechanical part of her brain to NOT try decoding that. It gave her bad dreams and a killer headache.

A soft analog click, and one large mouth in Mik'hul's body opened up wide. Revealing three fleshy orifices, framed by thing brass rings. These holes came alight with flame, forming an erzatz facsimile of the Arkifane's eyes and maw.

"Dark Artificer," Elster said, bowing her head briefly.

"Greetings, servant," rumbled the voice like furnace, oil, and steel grinding against steel. The eyes and mouth flared brighter with each syllable. "I perceive your task was a successful one."

Elster nodded. "The broadcast was sent, as requested. I triple checked the coordinates to make sure."

"From outside the flow of time, I already know of its success. My schemes advance apace. In hundreds of years, potential agents of mine hear the broadcast. They cannot help themselves, and pursue the work I laid out for them long ago. It is inevitable."

Elster nodded, pointedly not asking further questions. She had a feeling whatever purpose the broadcast served, it would only lead to ill. She'd rather not know.

It was selfish. But she treasured that ignorance.

"In any event," said the Arkifane, "for pleasing me in this manner, your reward. A minor absolution."

"Thank you, Dark Artificer." Elster breathed a sigh of relief, seeing her Soul Count decrement. It was a scarce few hundred. But it was precious progress, for only a night's work. She rankled at how far left she had, before she even made up what she previously lost.

She forced herself to suppress her discontent. She needed the win. She let herself have it.

She was already so tired.

Vashtorr hummed. "I see you have accumulated new data, servant. I can guess as to your intent."

Elster held her hands behind her back, wringing them nervously.

"By all means, pursue whatever designs you hold at your discretion," Vashtorr rumbled. "For alas, this is the extent of the tasks I have ready for you to perform. The next opportunity to pursue my agenda will not arise for you for another seven years."

Elster frowned. How many years had she spent with Ariane? How long would it be, before the time she spent fighting to get her lover back would dwarf that in her arms? The replika, again, forced down her frustration.

"That is..." Vashtorr continued, "...so long as you remain bound to the Eusan system. Doubtless there is no shortage of opportunities to reap souls. But for enacting my designs more directly, freedom of movement would be a great boon. Consider this, servant, as you make your plans."

The replika stared at the phantom visage. It wasn't an outright request, nor a mission she could accept. Which may mean there was no direct promise of absolving soul debt. But still, Elster sensed in the words the shape of her "employer's" expectations.

He was the Demi-God of Artifice. Innovating solutions pleased him.

It would be terribly convenient to be able to leave the system whenever she wished. Especially it it didn't rely on Mik'hul.

Elster nodded. "I will report again when I've made progress, Dark Artificer."

"See that you do, servant." With this, the fires faded from within the flesh-metal cavities. They retreated into the Warp-touched innards, and Mik'hul's mouth snapped shut.

Mik'hul shuddered and shivered, then coughed. The pupils of his many eyes shrank to nothing, returning the orbs to his customary yellow. "Hot stuff. Congratulations, boss. A few thousand more years, and you might just kick that debt. Heh heh. Just remember ol' Mik helped you out. Maybe put in a good word for the Changer of Ways if you meet him, eh?"

"I guess." Elster shrugged. She rubbed her shoulder, still unable to reach far enough to her back.

"So what's this about new data?"

Elster walked over to one side of the room, the wall perpendicular to the main wall of flesh-metal. She began tapping keys on the keyboard built into the wall, the light of a computer screen reflecting off her replika eyes. "I've found some coordinates I want to investigate." She tapped one last key. Lines of code spilled over the screen.

Mik'hul licked his teeth, eyes staring off into space. "Hrmm...this is...out on the Eusan Oort Cloud, isn't it?"

The replika nodded. "How long will it take to get there?"

"If we're gunning it," Mik'hul said, clicking his many tongues, "a few weeks. But since you'll probably want to go the sneaky ways...I'd say a few months." He laughed. "A lot better than your first trip out there, huh?"

Elster frowned, but just nodded. She put the past out of her mind, to focus on now.

With stubborn remnants of both Eusan Nation and Eusan Empire forces slowly being dismantled, the Imperium of Man had thorough control of the star system. Following the conquest, though, the Compliance Fleet hadn't lingered too long. Elements of the Tenth Legion Astartes sent to bolster the fleet naturally departed almost immediately after the fall of the Nation (and the last mop-ups of migratory Empire elements hiding in Buyan's lower atmosphere). The Compliance Fleet as a whole moved on to further conquests. Leaving regiments of Militia to maintain order and enforce the Imperial Truth.

The solar volume was patrolled well enough to dissuade piracy and protect incoming ships of colonists and traders. But the vessels were never too numerous that smugglers (or itinerant rebels) couldn't evade them. If they were determined enough. Moreover, the system was increasingly filling up with, of all things, privatized Penrose ships.

In retrospect, an obvious move. The local volume, especially out in the Oort Cloud, was filled with derelict Project Penrose exploratory vessels. All they needed was some repair and refit, a good scrubbing for radiation, and a disposal of gestalt and replika corpses, and they could work as new. Better than new, if retrofitted with better engines, and other quality-of-life improvements the Imperium had access to.

Even if they were never made capable of Warp travel, Penrose vessels could be made fast enough to navigate the system quickly. At least quickly compared to the slow progress Ariane and Elster had "enjoyed". Moreover, even with extensive cleaning and retrofitting, it was still cheaper to refurbish a Penrose, especially for small time private operators, than it was to build or purchase a new ship. At least until the proposed shipyard around Rotfront or Heimat was constructed.

Elster, ironically, could exploit this practice. Replikas were becoming increasingly scarce, and Penrose vessels crewed by private enterprises more common. While she was loath to be spotted by Imperium patrols and made to identify herself, her credentials (forged on the black market) held up to casual scrutiny. So long as no one insisted on an inspection, she could get away. She'd already managed it, a couple of times.

That last time was close, though. Elster bit her lip, thinking how hard she'd had to bluff to escape a boarding.

"We're going the long way," Elster said, looking at the floor.

"Got it, boss!" Mik'hul gave a mock salute with a prehensile tongue. "Plotting a course now."

Elster nodded, turning away. "Good," she said, rubbing her face. "Let's set off right away. Do you need anything?"

"Aside from your soul? Not a thing." Mik'hul laughed. "I got this."

"Good. If anything happens, wake me up." Elster stepped towards the door, yawning. "Otherwise, I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight, boss!"

When the door shut behind the retreating replika, Mik'hul chuckled to himself. "...and sweet dreams. Heh heh."

Chapter 9: The Search for Succor

"Ah!"

Elster shuddered. She blushed, sitting up straight. "Ari!"

"Oops! Sorry!" Ariane said, pulling the screwdriver away. "I missed. Are you alright?"

Elster sat at a chair, back facing the gestalt, who sat on the edge of her bed. The replika looked sheepishly over her shoulder. "I-I'm fine. Please continue."

Ariane narrowed her eyes, but nodded. "Okay." She leaned in, tracing the lines of circuitry on Elster's back. "Now where was I?"

Elster looked away, shivering. She tried to hide the red in her face.

The screwdriver found its mark this time. Slipping in, then rotating under Ariane's now expert hands.

"Aaaand...done!" Ariane said, putting down the tool. "That should be the last spot needing tightening. There really wasn't much to do this time. How's it feel?"

Elster stretched and rotated her torso back and forth. "Seems fine," she said, pressing her hands on her knees. "Thanks, A-"

Ariane smiled mischievously, sliding a finger up Elster's spine.

"M-m-magh!" Elster stuttered, shivering all over. Her hands raised up, fingers curling.

She looked backwards, face beet red. "Ariane!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Ariane said, pressing her fingers to her mouth and grinning. "I couldn't resist. My Ellie just makes such wonderful noises when I press her buttons."

Elster turned fully around, took Ariane by the chin, and kissed her.

Ariane blushed. When Elster pulled away, she mumbled, "Ah...I s-see turnabout is fair play..."

Elster nodded, smiling. "Didn't get enough of touching last night, did we?" she said. "Are we going to get work done today, or did you want more of my attention?"

The gestalt waved her hands in front of her. "I'm done! Got it all out of my system!" she lied. "...although, since we're examining each other today anyway, do you mind doing my physical?" Ariane rose to her feet, dusting off her white sleeping dress.

"Hmm?" Elster looked up at her companion. "Sure. Why? Do you feel sick?" She rose to her hooves, reached out, and pressed the back of her hand against the gestalt's forehead.

"W-well no," Ariane said, blushing slightly at Elster's touch. She took the proffered hand in her own. She rubbed the replika's mechanical digits. "Quite the opposite. I feel really good." She looked at the floor. "I just...can't remember the last time I had a physical. Doesn't that mean it's overdue?"

Elster shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to check."

 

"That's not right."

Elster tapped the screen on the diagnostic computer.

"What's wrong?" Ariane said, kicking her feet back and forth from her perch on the infirmary bed. She was already strapping a blood pressure monitor on her arm and beginning the cycle.

The replika squinted at the screen. "Not seeing the examine schedule. It's not where it's supposed to be." She stroked her chin. "Did we forget to input it the last time?"

"Huh," Ariane said, her arm folded against her chest so her hand touched her shoulder. The blood pressure monitor audibly filled with air, building pressure on her arm. When it reached peak inflation, it beeped, slowly deflating as the device went to work. "That's strange."

Elster scratched her head. "Rest of the system seems to work. I'll have to mess around with it later." She waited until she heard the blood pressure monitor beep out its completion. "What's the number?"

Ariane held the machine on her arm out, giving Elster a look. When the replika stepped back to enter the data, Ariane took the monitor off. "How's it look?" she said, checking the number herself, more out of curiosity.

"Better," Elster said, tapping the keyboard. She stopped, head tilting. "...I mean, average, for a healthy adult gestalt." She fished a magnifier from the shelf of medical tools and walked over. "Look into this."

Ariane winced as Elster shined a light directly into her eyes. Like a good patient, she did her best to endure the shine, as her irises shrank.

"Nothing unusual," Elster said. "Say 'ahhhh'."

"Ahhh!" Ariane moaned, opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue.

"Back of the mouth is fine," Elster said. She moved the light around the mouth. "No obvious cavities. Have you been brushing and flossing?"

"Uhhh," Ariane moaned, looking away. When Elster let her shut her mouth, she said, "I don't...remember...?"

"That means you should be brushing more." She smiled. "I know we're a little...distracted, at bedtime...and in the morning. But we don't want your..."

Elster stopped herself. She was going to say "teeth fall out". But...

Ariane stiffened a second after Elster cut herself off. The gestalt said nothing. Her hand rose up and probed her teeth by touch.

Elster stared. "Is something wrong? Is there pain?"

"No, no," Ariane said, letting the hand drop. "I just...I had a nasty dream last night, of my teeth falling out. That's normal, right?"

The replika was silent. A frown formed on her lips. Eventually, she ventured, "Maybe...that's your subconscious, telling you to brush your teeth more."

"Yeah, that's probably it!" Ariane said, rubbing the back of her head. She smiled.

Elster exhaled. A knot in her chest loosened, that she hadn't realized had formed. She quickly walked to the gestalt's side. "Let me check your ears."

She stuck the magnifier into Ariane's ears and looked into it. First one, then the other. Letting the light illuminate the cavity. "Nothing unusual," Elster said, removing the tool. She took it over to the sink and washed the business end off. Placing the tool back on the shelf, she entered data into the terminal.

Turning around, Elster nodded. "Okay, let me see your back."

Ariane blinked. "Uh? Okay..." She turned around, pulling the nightshirt up so Elster could look.

Elster held the scrunched shirt up and stared. Looking at every contour of the gestalt's back.

She felt relieved to see nothing amiss...apart from the red rows of finger scratches. But they both knew exactly where those came from.

Ariane frowned. "Aren't...you supposed to check my heartbeat?"

"Oh, right!" Elster said, quickly stepped over to the tool shelf and fished out a stethoscope. She popped the buds in her ears. "Just a second."

The gestalt shivered as the cold metal contacted her skin.

"Just breathe," Elster said, listening to the rhythm of her lover's heart. "Regular and slow."

Ariane couldn't help but become self-conscious of her breathing, when so prompted. She did her best to comply. She felt the scope travel across her skin. She turned her head to Elster, putting a hand on the one the replika placed on her shoulder for leverage.

Elster looked Ariane in the eyes briefly, smiling. She looked back down. "Not hearing any irregularities in your pulse, nor any chest congestion." She removed the stethoscope, letting the shirt drop.

"That's good," Ariane said, facing forward. She stared into space, listening to Elster tap on the keyboard from behind her.

"Okay."

Ariane jumped as she heard the snap of elastic. She looked over her shoulder.

Elster placed a second medical glove on her other hand. "Turn around, sit back, and spread."

The gestalt gaped. "Eh?" She shut her eyes and smiled sheepishly. "Elster...d-didn't you get a good enough look l-last night?" Ariane's legs folded up onto the table, pressing close to her. "Do we really need to d-do that?"

The replika stepped forward, carrying a small flashlight. She clapped a gloved hand on Ariane's knee. "I wasn't exactly using my eyes for that. Not that I could see much anyway, in the dark. And, well..."

She leaned forward, whispering into Ariane's ear. "...I kind of had...other things on my mind, if you recall."

Ariane blushed. Elster's lips turned up at the end.

"As I said," Elster continued, standing back up, "Spread."

Ariane whined, frowning in trepidation.

"You're the one who said you wanted a medical exam," Elster said. "Examining your health means ALL of it."

Ariane leaned back, looking away and scowling grumpily. "Got me there..."

 

"Aaaand done."

Elster tapped the last key, feeding the information to the diagnostic record. "That's everything. You are free to go."

"Uuughh," Ariane groaned, lying face down on the examination bed.

"It wasn't that bad," Elster said, standing beside the bed. She patted Ariane's head. "You were a brave little soldier, as always."

The gestalt raised her head. "Give it to me straight, Doctor Elster. Am I gonna live?"

Elster froze for a second, then exhaled. She smiled. "I'm afraid so. You're a perfectly healthy adult woman." Elster looked away and blushed. "Although you have a chronic case of being beautiful, and a terminal case of being loved by a replika. There's no cure."

Ariane giggled, pushing herself up and hugging Elster. "You hopeless romantic!" She planted a kiss on the replika's cheek. "Although given the prognosis..."

She leaned in and whispered in Elster's ear. "...what treatment would you prescribe, doctor, for being loved by a smoking hot replika?"

Elster turned and ran a hand through Ariane's short, white hair. "This doctor can think of a few ideas..." The two women leaned in for a kiss.

The mood was killed, when Ariane's stomach growled.

Ariane frowned. "Come on, body," she whispered, shutting her eyes. "We just got a clean bill of health. Don't betray me now."

Elster laughed. "Let's put your treatment on hold for now, and get you some breakfast." She pulled away, offering her hand.

"Fine, okay," Ariane sighed. She took Elster's hand and allowed herself to be helped down from the table. She walked side by side with the replika. "But after food, I want my smooches."

"After food, you're brushing your teeth," Elster said, hooking her arm around Ariane's.

"Ellie!" Ariane whined, as the infirmary door slid open.

"This is what happens when your girlfriend is also your dentist," Elster teased. "I get to enforce your teeth-care regimen."

The two laughed.

---

Wake up, boss.

Elster climbed from her calibration pod, and winced.

Gotterdammerung, she cursed internally, scowling. Once again, she unsuccessfully tried to rub the literal pain in her backside. I wish Ariane were here right now.

A common refrain for Elster, of course. But most viscerally felt in this moment.

Rise and shine, boss. The voice of Mik'hul again, wafting on the epheramal winds, directly to her head. No hurry, but we'll reach your projected coordinates in a few hours.

Elster sighed. "Fine," she said aloud. As a unit so often deployed on her own, out of contact with bioresonant replikas, Elster never truly got the hang of thinking at someone. Until she got used to it, she would simply count on the daemon hearing her. "I'm going to get ready."

Ten four, boss.

The replika stepped around piles and crates full of supplies and personal effects that littered her room. A modest accumulation of horded goods, by any objective measure. But by her own standards, painfully cluttered. Doubtless doomed to grow as her career of reaping souls, with its accompanying looting and travel, went on.

Among the boxes was a container overflowing with looted Eusan Nation propaganda posters. Elster didn't know what possessed her to abscond with it. Some form of nostalgia? Her opinion of the Nation was low enough, she didn't feel compelled to put them up. Save for a single poster of Vineta, on the wall facing her pod when she woke up. That one gave her bittersweet memories. It could stay.

She approached her messy work table, and picked up a peculiar contraption. A set of metal rods and clamps, and sets of mirrors, bent in odd angles. With a screwdriver at one end.

Not for the first time in the weeks of the months-long journey she was awake, Elster attempted to use her ugly bit of engineering to fix her back. Perhaps the current arrangement could work, where it previously failed, if she simply tried enough times.

"Nngh!"

After poking herself in the spine for the umpteenth time, sending a painful shock through her whole body, Elster was, once again, disabused of this notion.

"Fuck!" she grunted, throwing the contraption into the corner of the room with the rest of the unsorted scrap. Rooting around on the desk again, grumbling wordlessly under her breath, Elster fished out a simple metal rod with a round metal dowel on the end.

She sat on a stool, reached around with the rod, and started rolling and rubbing the dowel on her back.

"Mrgh," she moaned, shutting her eyes. There was no permanent relief, but at least it soothed the pain for the moment. Elster's mind wandered briefly to the daemon's offer from when they set out. When she imagined his tongue, however, she banished the thought immediately. No way, not a chance.

She rose to her hooves and left the room, continuing to rest her improvised massage tool on her shoulder.

If what she sought was still there, and had what she guessed, the problem of her back (among others) could be turned into problems she could solve. With a little (non-daemon) help.

 

Come to the cockpit, boss. You gotta see this.

Elster looked away from the fluid-filled, metal framed tube she was studying. She stood up, and slipped the container into its padded carrying case. If all went well, it would be utilized soon.

The door to the foremost room on the Penrose 313 opened. Elster climbed into the pilot seat, flipped a switch on the controls, and looked forward.

Before her was a field of asteroids, that the Penrose effortlessly weaved around (thanks to its daemonic autopilot). Beyond them, an infinite sea of stars. Thankfully, the part of the Eusan Oort Cloud they navigated was different than the one Elster and Ariane had flown toward for years. So the stars occupied refreshingly novel positions.

"Do we have visual?" Elster said, wrapping her hands around the control stick out of habit.

"See that big rock at 1 o'clock, boss?" said Mik'hul, through the speaker.

"Yes."

"I spotted what I'm pretty sure is that ship you're looking for. It'll peek out from behind that rock in a few seconds." Mik'hul paused. "Although, uh, you might not like all you see, boss."

The asteroid in question slid rightward, relative to the viewing window. Poking out from behind it, another more distant asteroid came into view.

Elster frowned. Fuck.

They found the ship. But from the look of it, they weren't the first.

Down on Vineta, Elster found among the detritus of a late-Empire logistical campaign, fought (and then lost) in the wake of the Empire's conquest, evidence of a project. Started even before the Imperium arrived, in the interests of prosecuting the Eusan Empire's war against the Eusan Nation.

A deep space, naval exploratory and colonization vessel. The Nomarch-06.

It wasn't a small ship, like those employed by the Nation in the Penrose program. It wasn't a glorified propaganda tool either, shunted into space by the hundreds with minimal investment, minimal crew, and minimal chance of success. For one, if it wasn't perfectly secret, the Empire had obviously not advertised its existence. For another, it was obviously not a throw-away endeavor. The Empire had put actual resources and care into the Nomarch. With a crew of dozens of gestalts, an equal number of replikas...

...and, importantly, the equipment needed to manufacture MORE replikas.

It's purpose was clear. Sneak off into the Oort Cloud, find an asteroid rich enough in metals and minerals, and dig in. The Nomarch was the seed around which a potential orbital habitat could be built. Parts enough to build a second reactor (to supplement the Nomarch's own), seeds and raw materials enough to maintain hydroponics, equipment for void mining, and enough guns to fend off Nation ships should they come knocking. Combined with, apparently, enough gestalt genetic samples on ice to bolster genetic diversity among the small crew, and the Nomarch could, theoretically, establish a self-sustaining outpost. One that might survive long term, even if the Eusan Nation succeeded in driving the Empire from the planets it still held (at the time).

Ambitious, to be sure. But with a higher upside, and more reliable return on investment, than the Nation's blind shots in the dark. A 'K'-strategy approach to space exploration, rather than an 'r'-strategy one. It helped that the Nomarch had the resources to either turn back if problems arose, or fend for itself if return wasn't feasible. Unlike the Penrose program, where trusting officers and their LSTR units were basically doomed if they didn't immediately find an exo-planet capable of being klimaformed. (Nor did the Empire ship need a bioresonant individual strong enough to oversee a klimaforming operation, if they were just digging into an asteroid. Avoiding a major logistical bottleneck.)

From the records Elster read, the project was going well. They arrived where they intended, started collecting the asteroid metal equivalent of low-hanging fruit, and even found an unexpected boon. A chunk of apparently alien (or non-Eusan human) spaceship debris, that the Nomarch's crew had towed and set out to study. The report she'd found was heavily redacted, making details vague. But the crew and the Empire remnants were optimistic about what could be learned.

Immediately following this discovery, the last report was filed: the crew were dead, and the one sending the message bleeding out.

"It's in the vents. Empress save our souls." So ended the message. After that, all contact ceased.

Threat of some nameless alien horror notwithstanding, the Nomarch was an opportunity Elster simply could not afford to pass up.

Which is why she chewed her bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed and groaning. "That's a fucking Imperium ship beside it, isn't it?"

"Looks like it, boss!" Mik'hul's voice chimed in. "Got all the hallmark shapes and everything. Tough break."

The replika chewed the joint of her thumb.

The asteroid was far in the distance. In front, no doubt moored to the rock by tethers, was a rectangular vessel with a flat nose, of distinctly Empire fashion. Off to the right, from her perspective, was a misshapen lump. She guessed it would be the chunk of alien(?) space debris, which might be similarly tethered, either to the ship or the asteroid. And off to the left side, relative to the Penrose 313, appeared to be the front profile of an Imperium patrol vessel.

Elster couldn't quite get a solid grasp on the full size of the Imperium craft. The distance was too great to be sure. Much less about the disposition of the cluster of objects, or what activity might be occurring.

Inside her head, gears turned, and cost-benefits were analyzed.

Her mind's eye traveled, as it so often did, to her Soul Count. Her precious quota. The souls that stood between her and Ariane's freedom. It was not merely another large penalty she risked, but that of the Penrose 313 itself. A craft fished out for her, at apparently great effort, from the void by Vashtorr. (Not to mention Mik'hul; she didn't care if he died, but it would be inconvenient for Vashtorr, and therefore to Elster, if he had to be summoned into the world again). There was a great cost to pay, if she died here. Especially if it took the Penrose with her.

She could just leave. Eschew risk today, and pick a safer battle...a few months from now, at least. The round trip time would be wasted, but time was all she'd lose.

Her mind flipped through pages of digital interface. Diving into her memory module. She perused the Nomarch's reported cargo manifest. Materials, equipment. Spare parts. Spare replika bodies. Those facilities for manufacturing and repairing replikas in-ship...

"Let's..." she began, forcing the word out. Now committed, she continued. "...get closer."

"You sure, boss?" Mik'hul said. But then he whistled. "Heh heh. I see how it is."

"What?" Elster said, looking down at the speaker. "How what is?"

"It's gotten into you," Mik'hul said. His voice was almost cooing. "The need. The grasping for an angle. The Hope, to better your situation. I love it. You wanna go in anyway?"

Elster chewed the end of her thumb nervously. "...it can't hurt to..." She cut herself off. It could absolutely hurt. She rephrased. "...I don't want to give up, until I've got a better look at what's going on. The trip back in-system will take months." She nodded, clenching her fist. "I want to be sure."

"And if the Imperials spot us? Assuming they haven't already?"

"If they hail us..." Elster clenched and unclenched her hand. "...if they hail us, we'll say we're a salvage vessel. That we're just checking to see if everything was alright." She studied the control panel, thinking. "They'll probably tell us to fuck off. But then at least we'll know."

The cockpit was quiet. All the replika could hear was the elevated beating of her heart.

"Sounds like a great plan!" Mik'hul said. "Do a flyby, real quick! In and out! What's the worst that could happen?"

Elster still didn't know Mik'hul well enough to tell if he was being sarcastic, optimistic, or simply thought the idea of Elster getting them both in trouble with the Imperium was funny. She didn't think she could, or wanted, to understand the daemon that well.

"...just do it," she said, shutting her eyes. Before I lose my nerve.

The Penrose glided through the void, forward to their target. At Elster's direction, Mik'hul made no effort to disguise their approach. Stealth was impossible at that range, especially against advanced Imperium instruments. Hiding would only make the Penrose seems suspicious. Better to act like a concerned Imperial citizen, coming openly to investigate.

Elster was glad Mik'hul had control. She clutched the control stick so hard, it started to hurt a little. Multiple times, she had to consciously stop biting her lip, lest she puncture the soft flesh in agitation.

It took minutes to bridge the gap, to come into range where she could see something. It felt like an hour, two hours.

She kept looking down at the instruments. Down at the screen, on which she expected to see the flash of UI for a hail. To hear the tone of a received packet of information. She expected the radio to flare to life, the voice of some Imperial comms officer or even a captain, barking questions and demanding answers.

The silence was deafening.

Her hands shook. A pit formed in her stomach. A tension that demanded release, or it would tie her internal organs into knots.

Why don't they hail?, she thought. She licked her dry lips. They must have seen us by now!

The asteroid ahead and to their right grew larger and larger in view. Her hyper-aware eyes started to pick out details. The navy blue hue of the Nomarch against the craggy brown rock. The finer asymmetry of the space debris. An odd irregularity in the silhouette of the Imperial vessel, whose nature she couldn't deduce.

Elster possessed the good fortune of never having engaged in or even seen a void battle in person. She'd watched some old Nation war films about space battles. (They were wildly unrealistic, but that contributed to them being the only kind of war film she could stand to watch. At least, until ships started getting boarded, and Ariane would quickly shut them off for Elster's sake as soon as gunplay started.).

For actual ship-on-ship combat, though, Elster was green. Only very light training was giving on naval engagements when she was prepared for the Penrose mission. Encounters with Empire ships were considered a remote possibility, even by her most militant instructors. That the Penrose lacked ship-mounted weapons, and thus couldn't put up a fight even if it wanted to, made the whole matter moot. If she and Ariane had been confronted by a ship, they were expected to either keep flying and hope to outrun pursuit, or wait for boarding. Officially, they were expected to repel boarders, and/or go down fighting, for the glory of the Nation. (Unofficially, her less zealous instructors told her to just surrender and hope the Empire would either imprison them or execute them quickly).

Obviously, encountering Imperium vessels never entered into it. (The possibility that the Penrose might encounter alien craft was, in retrospect, suspiciously unaddressed. Probably because Penrose crew were never expected to get that far...or live that long.). As such, Elster had no way of knowing their effective threat range. Or if evading them was even possible in a Penrose, daemon-engine or not.

They were drawing close enough, Elster could start to make out hair-like tethers locking the Nomarch to the asteroid, the chunk of space debris to the Nomarch, and the Imperium vessel to the Nomarch. She could start to make out the contours of the alien debris. How it seemed, from her vantage, like an amalgamation of different colors and styles of craft. As if chunks of spaceship, orbiting habitat, and satellite were smashed together at random and just stayed that way. And the way the Imperium ship, seen from the front, just seemed to bulge out oddly.

"Closer, boss?" Mik'hul said over the intercom.

"Scheiss!" Elster gasped, clutching her chest. A sweat drop ran cold down the back of her neck. "Scared the shit of me!"

"Heh heh, sorry boss. But for real, do we get closer?"

"They haven't said anything," Elster said, massaging the space over her heart. She exhaled, feeling her pulse come down. "Shouldn't they have hailed us?"

"Hmm..." Mik'hul let the moment linger. "Boss, I get a feeling something's up. Call it a premonition."

Or a guess, Elster thought. But she didn't argue. Something was wrong. "Okay," she said, cocking her head slightly to the side. "Get closer."

Up until then, the Penrose maintained a heading that allowed for the possibility they may turn left at any moment. A suggestion of a wide turning arc, for a ship aiming to return the way it came.

Now, they dropped the pretext. Despite the warning bells in Elster's mind, she was making it obvious they aimed to pass close by the collection of ships. There was no plausible deniability. They were coming to, if not engage or board, then at least to gawk.

Still, the radio remained silent.

When they came close enough to see the "Nomarch 06" and the Empire hexagon on the Empire ship's hull, the side of the Imperium ship wove into view.

Elster blinked, brows shooting up.

"What...the hell?" she said.

Mik'hul whistled with at least three mouths. "Well, that explains the radio silence, eh boss?"

The whole right side of the viewing window was consumed by the sight of the Imperium vessel as they passed.

A vessel blown in half.

Mik'hul pitched the Penrose 313 left, to dodge a cloud of debris. Even then, Elster as much felt as heard the sound of metal chunks impacting and rolling off the Penrose's wedge-like hull.

Elster leaned forward and to the left, hands resting on the top of the console to support her weight. She craned her neck, pressing her face as close to the glass as possible.

She saw the long, rectangular Imperium vessel, broken in half at its center. Saw the ragged, blackened edges on either piece, the hull bowed outward. Deformed by some internal pressure. The back half of the vessel, floating freely, pitched back and to the side, relative to the forward end.

Just as the huge break in the center fell out of view from the window, she saw the void littered with not only scrap, but gestalt bodies. Contorted in pain, injury, and horror in the cold vacuum.

Her mouth dropped.

She whirled her head backwards, half hoping to see the disappeared vessel through the walls of the Penrose. "Wheel us back around," she said, climbing around her chair. "And come in slow as we get back."

"On it, boss!" Mik'hul said. The ship's heading shifted into a gradual leftward curve. It would take half an hour or more, but it would have to do.

Elster didn't wait. The ship rang with hoof-falls on metal grating. She almost ran into sliding doors before they opened. She slowed only enough to grab the top of the ladder and slide down. Her hooves hit the grating in the lower gallery, and she ran again.

The door to the rear observation room slid open. She hopped over or around crates and bags left haphazardly discarded. She cursed, almost losing her balance, chiding herself for her untidiness. She also groaned, as another twinge of pain shot from her back. She ignored it, rushing to the back of the room.

Her hands touched either edge of the rear window. Elster stared out, seeing the asteroid, the Nomarch, the debris, and most prominently the broken Imperium ship. She got a good, long look at the massive derelict, as the Penrose 313 pivoted to port.

It was fundamentally irrational. Both believing in, and then ignoring, such an obvious ill omen.

Her fingers curled. She licked her dry lips. Her heart raced, not only from exertion. Her eyes traveled across the now multiple wrecks, before settling on the Nomarch that peeked out behind the invader ship. Stared at the hexagon symbol of the Eusan Empire, painted on its side.

Despite herself, her lips curled up at the sides.

Elster was taking that damn ship.

Chapter 10: Space Hulk

Notes:

Technically, any derelict ship found in the void constitutes a "space hulk", not just the big amalgamations.

Good hunting, boss.

Hsssss.

The inner airlock door belched steam. The valve handle spun. Pneumatics thrummed to life. With a heavy metal groan, the door swung open.

The business end of a shotgun poked out, a biomechanical eye trained down its iron sights from behind a glass helmet.

Elster stared down the corridor, eyes scanning for motion in the red emergency half-lights that dotted the metal hall. The shine of her helmet and shoulder mounted lights casting spots of cool illumination. These spots traveled over surfaces, banishing gloom, but also deepening the shadows they cast.

The corridor was spattered in rust-colored patches, and by a lone cadaver resting where it fell.

She heard only the sound of her own deep breathing, and the heart beating faster than normal in her chest.

Elster checked her corners as she stepped over the airlock threshold. Seeing nothing, she faced the end of the corridor, which broke into a T-junction. Her left hand groped for the airlock door and swung it shut. The unlubricated hinges squeaked loudly, and steam snorted from the door as it sealed. The valve handle spun automatically.

The replika watched the corridor for a full minute. Waiting for something, anything, to investigate the noise. One minute. Two minutes.

When nothing came, she stepped forward. Her heart jumped as the environment suit's thick boot (Penrose suits were designed to be interchangeable for gestalt and replika wearers) kicked some piece of metal. She chanced a quick look down. It was some kind of spent ammo magazine, or perhaps a power pack.

At her hooves were footprints. Footprints and curious scratch marks.

Elster looked back up. Waited. Breathed. Allowed her heart to settle. Listened. Sensing nothing forthcoming, she advanced.

Traversing half the corridor, she spared a glance at the cadaver. It lay facedown in a dried pool of blood, the color of rust. It wore armor plates over a flexible void suit, and a helmet with round eye holes. Writing and numerals of Imperium script were painted on the armor, and at its side was a blood-spattered lasgun.

The armor plates on the back were raked open by a set of three large claw marks. Smooth and deep. Cleaved as easily as butter cut by a hot knife.

Elster stalked forward. Careful to walk as smooth as possible. Both to quiet her hoof-falls, and to keep the heavy, handled carrying case attached to the back of her belt from bouncing.

The case made sidling up to the wall tricky. She slowly checked one corner. Seeing nothing, she whipped around to look down the other direction. When she saw nothing there either, she turned around again to check what she couldn't before. Nothing.

Nothing but more dead bodies, in both directions.

She exhaled. Lowering her shotgun, she traced her steps back to the airlock. Keeping her back to the door, she fiddled with a device attached to the wrist of her suit. Tapping buttons, and allowing numbers to flash on a tiny LCD screen. Sensors in the device measured gas concentrations, temperature, humidity. Her eyes kept darting back up, looking to the end of the corridor, every few seconds. Finally, she was satisfied with the data.

The life support system remained functional, and the environment (in that section at least) not exposed to vacuum.

Elster touched the side of her helmet. She briefly considered removing it, to get a better field of view. But no. She couldn't risk exposing herself to potential alien pathogens in the air. At least, not until she had a better idea of the situation.

She knelt, studying the footprints and scratches on the ground. The footprints, made partially from dried blood, were obvious boot-marks. The scratches were made it patterns of three, forming three-clawed scraps in the steel. Looking further, she found two sets of such claw-trails, moving parallel to one another in the hall.

Taking a quick look towards the T-junction, Elster checked the airlock door. There were no scratches on the door. Only leading up to it on the floor, then disappearing.

Narrowing her eyes, Elster rose and stalked back towards the deceased Imperium voidsman. Tucking the end of her shotgun under their ankle, she bent the leg up to check the bottom of their boot. It matched the pattern of the footprints at the airlock exactly.

As Elster made her way back to the T-junction, a picture began to form in her mind.

The Imperium vessel, having located a ghost ship anchored in the void, sent a group of voidsmen to investigate. Either taking a small shuttlecraft (as Elster had) or some extending airlock bridge. They ran afoul of whatever creature had slaughtered the Nomarch's crew. In the ensuing retreat, two(?) alien assailants entered through the open airlock. Either chasing them down before it could be closed...or sneaking through beforehand without them knowing.

Elster thought back to the Imperium vessel outside, blown in half. Had the chaos of one or two alien creatures been enough to cause a critical accident? Had drastic measures been taken to kill them, perhaps escalating beyond control?

The replika shook her head. In any event, those one or two creatures weren't likely on the ship anymore. It wasn't her problem, for the moment. She needed to sweep the ship.

Checking corners again, Elster knelt. She removed a proximity mine from her belt and stuck it on the corner before the T-junction. She passed the threshold, then tapped the button. An invisible light beam spanned the corridor's width, hitting the opposite corner.

Arming explosives on a spaceship was hazardous. But it was an anti-personnel mine. She judged it unfit to pierce the hull or the airlock. Any damage to the corridor or the systems in the walls, she could probably repair. Worst came to worst, her suit would keep her alive if the hull were breached.

Securing her exit was paramount enough to warrant the trap. The biggest danger, she felt, was forgetting she placed it.

She looked each direction, aiming her shotgun.

I've remained stationary too long, she thought, hearing the sound of her breath in the helmet's confines. Commencing search.

 

She was examining a shriveled cadaver when she first heard the scurrying in the vents.

Her shotgun was up in an instant, flicking back and forth towards the ceiling.

Elster strained her ears. Gritted her teeth. Eyes peeled, darting here and there. Gloved finger rested firmly on a trigger whose guard was sawn away to accommodate the suit.

Bumps and clicks in the ceiling erupted again, a flurry of unseen activity. Her shotgun snapped to the direction of the noise. Followed it until it retreated, and the structure went quiet.

The replika swallowed. She waited.

So at least one of you ARE still here, Elster thought, narrowing her eyes. Where are you?

Elster checked in either direction one last time, then stooped down. She allowed her eyes to fall back down to the corpse.

The gestalt wore a navy blue jumpsuit. Distinct in style to that of the Eusan Nation's armed forces, such as what Ariane wore most of their journey. But the intent was much the same. The fabric was stained a ruddy brown. Her throat was torn open, though due to the dry environment all moisture had evaporated. As such, the tanned skin on her face clung tight to her bones, lips drawn and cracked. Death had come long enough ago she'd succumbed to partial mummification.

Facial features locked in an expression of terror.

Part of the jumpsuit was torn away, leaving stained and ragged edges. Part of the shoulder had been eaten.

Elster studied her face. Other than obvious injury, consumption, and the passage of time, she showed no overt symptoms of illness or infection. She had perished a violent death. Her body used as simple fodder to sate a beast's hunger.

The replika rose and checked her surroundings again.

She briefly considered removing her helmet, to better hear her surroundings. But, looking down at the corpse, she knew it wasn't an option. Not because it wouldn't be advantageous...but because she knew herself. She knew what lurked in the dark parts of her psyche by now.

Elster couldn't wholly trust she'd be able to erect the kind of mental walls needed to keep the scent of death out. To bar it from seeping into her mind, and beckoning the old fears to rise and assert themselves. The mental, emotional, and physiological responses etched into her subconscious from the time before she was reborn in synthetic materials and vat-grown flesh. Even if she braced herself against the trigger, it was no guarantee she could successfully dissociate enough to maintain composure.

She was locked in a maze with a monster that knew the lay of the land better than her. Elster could ill afford to lose her cool. Staying slightly vulnerable was simply the price she would pay to maintain that focus.

Plus, bracing herself emotionally against her triggers, and staying braced, was exhausting. She was going to put that off as long as possible. The helmet stayed on.

Elster kept walking. The looping corridors were dotted with more bodies. A couple more Imperium soldiers here. An Empire gestalt or replika there. As she wandered through an open bulkhead door and entered an abandoned mess hall, she found a pile of full body bags. Their occupants, and their nature as gestalt or replika, were unknown, save one that had been torn open and gnawed.

The crew had attempted to dispose of corpses properly, according to whatever health or religious convention seemed appropriate. Until the mounting bodies began to outnumber the living, and were simply left where they lay.

As she traveled, Elster noticed the replikas almost never exhibited signs of consumption. One had its face bitten off, but a putrescent lump of what may have once been their flesh decayed nearby. Perhaps the organism(s) simply couldn't stomach replika meat, or found oxidizing fluid distasteful?

She ventured to hope the monster might leave her alone if that were the case. But it was unlikely. Even if it could tell a replika from a gestalt through her environment suit, the unwillingness to feed hadn't stopped the creature from slaying every replika it found.

The rumble of movement in the vents above her made Elster freeze. She listened. The sound faded, and she kept walking.

She grew more and more weary of the vents dotting the hallways.

As she should. She stumbled on another Imperium soldier, their body dragged head-first to the mouth of a vent. Elster noted the bulky armor plates on their torso prevented the corpse from fitting through the opening.

She gave the vent a wide berth, even clogged as it was with a whole cadaver.

 

It was in the blood-soaked chapel to the Grand Empress that Elster first encountered the creature.

The blood red lights from the ceiling cast the room in a hellish glow, belying the sacred purpose of the space. More bagged bodies were left lying on pews, awaiting last rites that would never come. A single gestalt crewmate knelt before an altar topped with a statuette of the Grand Empress. The man, his spine severed by slicing claws to the back of the neck, cradled the dead body of a short, almost childlike replika.

Elster was unfamiliar with Empire replika models, save in their capacity as nameless, faceless adversaries in an opposing trench line. The neural patterns they employed were naturally drawn from different stock, ever since the destruction of the central archive on Vineta. And both polities had diverged in development of replika technology. But Elster couldn't shake the association of the small replika to that of a Kolibri.

Phantom goosebumps rose on her artificial body. She didn't so much hear, as feel, the presence behind her.

Elster spun around and leveled her shotgun.

The stooped, lanky, armored figure retreated around the doorway. She'd only had a moment to spot it before it escaped into the corridors.

A bluish carapace, and mauve skin. Four clawed arms. A bulbous cranium. And a face full of obscene tentacles.

Elster trembled, unblinking. She scowled. Chastised herself for not simply firing. The end of the shotgun lowered, though she didn't let her guard down.

 

The door to the gestalt medical bay slide open automatically. Her shotgun poked through.

Checking her corners quickly, Elster stepped inside. She nearly fell over the prone body of a replika in large power armor. Looking quickly behind her to the doorway, she stepped over the replika's body.

She couldn't help notice the armor plates were sliced, torn, rent. From deep within a core memory not wholly her own, came the unbidden image of a child tearing away wrapping paper from a gift. The creature's talons had eviscerated the Empire's equivalent of a Mynah or Schnapper model like it was nothing. Ruddy brown stains pooled out, a tomato burst and allowed to decay quietly.

Moving away from the bloodstain were footprints, leading out of the room. Whoever the replika had tried to protect got away. At least, for a time. She had no expectation of finding the gestalt alive.

Elster crossed the room, peeking behind privacy curtains or under tables. Cabinets left open in the rush to tend mounting injuries.

She paused by an examining table. Great, clear plastic sheets, mounted from the ceiling, trailed down in tatters around the table. Elster guessed, from the gloves attached to the plastic, these once were meant to create a sealed environment for examination. On the table were three patches of indescribable organic residue. Hard, oily, and possessed of an unwholesome indigo hue.

On a side table, a great collection of hand-scrawled notes. Elster looked back towards the door, then began rifling through.

Sketches of carapaced creatures, four armed and two legged, curled into balls, skin mummified. Three such figures. Skimming the notes, Elster understood there were exactly three of the (apparently dormant) creatures, fished from the heart of the amalgamated space debris. Plans made to study them.

Abruptly, notes shifted to descriptions of escalating violence. Crewmates found dead in their bunks. Severed limbs found abandoned, the last traces of their owners. Sounds in the vents. Paranoia.

Elster picked up one badly stained note.

"...complete physiological and psychological shift...Officer **** attempted to **** Officer ****...became uncontrollably violent...post-mortem examination revealed skin discoloration..."

The crunch of broken glass brought Elster to attention. She turned, raising the shotgun.

BANG.

The tentacle-faced creature yelped and gurgled as it fell back, the force of rock-salt shells arresting its snarling charge and sending it sprawling. It's four taloned arms flailed.

Elster's heart raced. She pumped the shotgun. The spent cartridge clattered to the floor.

BANG.

Indigo blood splashed from the creature's exposed skin. It squealed, claws gouging into the floor tiles. It got its feet under it and made to flee.

Elster's hand dropped to her belt and unholstered a laspistol.

ZAP. ZAP.

One las shot singed the armored hide of the power armored replika. Another clipped a tentacle from the creature's face as it scrambled. It fled out the sliding door.

No you don't! Elster thought, gritting her teeth. She holstered the laspistol and ran. You're not getting away!

 

She followed the indigo blood trail across the ship. Always, the tapping of claws on steel floor grates seemed just a single turn of the corner away.

Elster's breathing intensified, as she threw every ounce of strength into pursuit.

Suddenly, as she neared a turn, a twinge of pain in her back. It shot through her, radiating outward across her body.

"Ah!" Elster cried. Not again! Not now! She staggered to a halt, planting her hooves.

In that moment, the creature whirled around the corner, swiping at the air in front of her. Perhaps it had expected her to run right into it. An ambush.

Elster flinched, raising her shotgun.

BANG.

The rock-salt sailed over the creature's head. It lunged again.

Shit! Elster threw her weapon up in front of her.

Claws raked steel. Sparks flew. The replika backpedaled, watching in horror as her weapon came apart into pieces in her hands. On impulse, she threw the pieces she held in the creature's face.

It recoiled, a snarl issuing from beneath a face of tentacles. It's beady, yellow eyes stared back at her from behind flailing limbs.

ZAP.

Elster's laspistol whipped out, releasing a red beam. It, too, sailed past the alien. It struck a wall, which began to spark from damaged wiring.

Fuck, shit, fuck! Elster thought. Her whole body trembled. She tried to grip her weapon with both hands.

ZAP-sssss.

Another flurry of swipes. The creature's lightning fast speed tore the laspistol from her hands, leaving its two smoking pieces clattering to the floor.

It tackled the replika, two claws seizing the front of her environment suit. She felt them rake the front of the protective armor chest plate she wore underneath. It's two upper claws raised up for a downward blow, it's tentacles whipping around in her face.

Unthinking, Elster pulled a knife from her belt and stabbed it into the creature's left eye.

The creature howled, pawing at its face. As the knife left its ruined socket, Elster's helmet was splattered in indigo blood.

"Hrgh!" Elster grunted, sticking a booted hoof into the creature's chest and kicking with all her might. The front of her environment suit ripped audibly under the creature's claws as it fell backwards. The suit hissed, as it depressurized completely.

She scrambled to her feet and ran. Behind her, she heard the gurgles and howls of the alien. The sound of its claws on metal grating followed her.

Panting, Elster rounded a corner. She couldn't see through the indigo splatter. Could hardly breathe, she felt so claustrophobic. Her hands shot up and wrenched the helmet off. She gasped, the air thick with the stench of blood and stale rot.

Core memories of The War bubbled up, unbidden, unrestrained, from the dark depths of her mind. In her heart, she was back on Vineta. Frantically dodging mortar fire through a maze of trenches, craters, and destroyed war machines. Her blood ran cold as Vinetan mud.

Without the helmet obstructing her peripheral vision, Elster could turn her head and see the alien gaining on her. The floor sparking with each clawed footfall.

When it came within a hair's breadth of raking her calves, Elster spun around and threw the helmet at her pursuer. It collided, shattering against its face with the force of impact. The creature stopped briefly, shaking off the collision before giving chase again.

Elster's heart raced. Sweat poured down her brow. Her face contorted in terror.

Have to get away! she thought. Panting, panicking. She was a frightened gestalt youth again. Have to get to the shuttle. Have to get...

A cog in her mind turned. While her heart was Vineta, her head snapped back to the present. She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

"C-come and get me, you piece of shit!" Elster barked over her shoulder, delirious. She rounded a corner. Ahead of her, the T-junction.

The sparks and patter of clawed feet grew closer. It's gurgles were gaining on her.

Taking the turn wide, Elster pitched herself toward the T-junction. As she hit the corridor, she hopped as high as she could. When she landed, she ran forward and dove.

She seized the fallen Imperium voidsman and rolled. Throwing their body, with its thick armor plates, between her and the creature. Elster made herself as small as possible.

The alien crossed the threshold. The mechanism on the proximity mine activated with an audible click.

BOOM!

The sound was deafening. Shrapnel flew around and bounced off walls. Elster felt the shrapnel ricochet off her gestalt shield or embed in their inviting flesh.

The alien didn't even have time to scream. Only a last gurgle, before the sound of splatter to underscore the titanic explosion.

Panting, Elster raised her head from behind her improvised cover. She squinted, straining her eyes.

Through the dust, explosive smoke, and fine indigo mist, she saw the devastation of the corridor. Walls embedded with metal shards, blackened by heat, and splattered in alien fluids. One of the red emergency lights was blown out, casting part of the hall in darkness. Holes in the walls shot sparks, as newly exposed power conduits spat their barely leashed electric blood into the air. Clawed and carapaced arms and legs littered the ground.

The creature's torso sat immobile at the corner opposite the explosion, a splash of indigo marking the wall where it had been thrown bodily.

As Elster shakily rose to her hooves, the torso began to stir. She flinched, readying her knife.

The alien, only a head, half a torso, stumps of tentacles, and a single arm, flailed about on its back impotently. Belching inhuman chortles and squeals. Trying desperately to live or, failing that, to kill anything within arm's reach. A deep-seated instinct for Survival, or Spite.

The replika's tension melted. She wiped the knife off on the Imperium voidsman's suit, then sheathed it. She stepped forward, and took up their fallen lasgun. She fiddled with a knob, to modulate the weapon's power. The reason she hadn't brought one of her own was the fear of over-penetration that could damage the ship. (Hence also why the shotgun was loaded with rock-salt, instead of slugs, buckshot, or flechettes).

Stepping close enough to remain safely out of the alien's reach, Elster looked down at it. Watched it squirm and writhe.

She debated saying some pithy line. Like, "Welcome to Eusan". Something befitting the films from her and Ariane's collection on the Penrose 512. But Elster's back was starting to hurt again.

"...fuck you," she said finally, and aimed her new lasgun down at the creature.

ZAP.

 

She set her new lasgun down on the desk, along with the carrying case. Opening it, she sighed with relief, seeing the package remained intact despite all the action.

Elster pushed the gestalt man in the rotating desk chair aside. "Apologies," she muttered, "Excuse me. I'll just be a moment."

The man, limply sitting surrounded by a dried pool of his own blood, said nothing.

Elster stepped to the comms console and started fiddling with keyboards, knobs, and screens. She tuned the machine to the frequency of the Penrose 313. She flipped a switch, and set the microphone to speaker.

"Achtung, achtung," she grumbled. "Come in."

"Boss!" came the many mouthed voices of the daemon. "And here I thought you up and died on me! Glad to hear I was wrong. How's hunting?"

"Hunted." Elster tapped keys on the console against a perpendicular wall, then sat hard in the only other chair. She winced at the pain in her back, then kicked her hooves up. "Surprisingly, I even got a soul for it. Wasn't sure it'd have one."

"Nice. Any trophies for the wall?"

"No. Pulped what was left of the head with a lasbolt." Elster arched her back, trying to alleviate the ache. "Walls are covered in its juices, though. And I could probably take the claws. Those fuckers are sharp." She pulled a bottle of water from her belt and chugged.

"So what was it?"

Elster shrugged. "Don't know. Don't particularly care. They came from the space junk, that's for sure."

She leaned forward and tapped the console again. Stopping the fast forward.

In front of her, looming above the console, was a grid of CRT monitors. A web of security cameras played their contents across the screens, giving a comprehensive view of the Nomarch and its environs.

The particular screen Elster focused on was tuned to the security camera overlooking her ingress airlock. It currently froze on the sight of Imperium voidsmen, ten strong, filing out of the airlock with lasguns ready. Elster tapped the button, and it fast forwarded again.

"What were they doing?" Mik'hul continued.

"Killing. Eating." Elster set the playback to normal speed. She watched as two more of the creatures stalked over to the airlock, no voidsmen in sight, and entered it. "Thought so."

"Hmm?"

"There were three aliens," Elster said. She watched significantly fewer voidsmen return to the airlock, fleeing in panic. They filed in and shut the door behind them. "As I suspected, two of them hitched a ride back to the Imperium ship when a team arrived to investigate the Nomarch. I just killed the last one left here." She tapped the key, returning the screen to a live feed.

"Heh. Guess we know what happened to them, then. So what's the plan now, boss?"

Elster stretched, wincing as her back popped audibly. She put up her hooves again. "First, sit here and do nothing for a while. Second, get the power going fully on my new ship..." She permitted herself a small smile.

"Hrmm. Just don't forget about your old ship, boss."

"Couldn't if I tried." Elster leaned her head back. "Third, find the bathroom facilities and take a shower."

Her eyes wandered to the table in front of her. The carrying case stood proudly, containing a new replika brain.

"And after that...I'm going to make some friends."

Chapter 11: Mother of Invention

Hsssss.

The airlock swung open. Elster stepped over the threshold, wearing a navy blue environment suit. The hexagonal symbol of the Eusan Empire emblazoned on the front, over the wearer's heart.

She carried canvas bags, bulging with equipment, in both hands. The replika stacked them on a waiting cart, then walked back into the airlock. She added four more reinforced carrying cases to the cart, bearing biohazard symbols.

The helmet stayed on, for the moment. The body of the voidsman still lay moldering on the ground against the wall. Granted the least modicum of respect an Imperial deserved, with their arms crossed over their chest.

Shutting the airlock behind her, Elster pushed the cart. Wheeled it to the end of the corridor, to the T-junction. The only spot in the ship Elster deigned to clean, at great pains. All the alien residue needed to be destroyed. She had no way of knowing what diseases swam in its bloodstream.

She looked at the walls, admiring her handiwork. The metal surfaces still bore the scars of the detonation. But the conduits were repaired, and no longer sparked. One set of emergency lights were still broken, but the proper overhead lights were working again. Everywhere but the patch of corridor she cleaned still looked filthy. But at least the interior looked brighter. An indulgence Elster allowed herself, both for practicality and her mental health.

The corridors she wheeled through still bore ruddy brown stains. Bodies, where unavoidable, had been dragged off to the side. Elster tried unsuccessfully, again, to rub the aching part of her back. She was in no state to go carting corpses off to the incinerator.

She would need an extra set of hands to really tackle all the problems in the ship. A deficiency she planned to correct promptly.

 

"Hphm! Come on!"

The door to the Replika Maintenance Bay slid open of its own accord. From it, Elster backed inside, hunched over. She dragged a deceased Empire replika, hands hooked under the poor girl's armpits.

She grunted into the gas mask on her face, as she lifted the body and placed it on a work table in the middle of the room. She wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel, then arched her back to sooth the ache. Why do us replikas need to be so damn heavy?

Elster snapped on a pair of medical gloves, and looked down at her project. The unit's head was missing, sheered off with a single swipe of alien claws. It would naturally need replacement, but Elster intended to anyway. She looked across the room at the set of machining tools, and the freshly modified faceplate she finished earlier.

It wasn't strictly necessary. There was no shortage of spare head parts. But she wanted to be as accurate as possible to the "bone" structure. For her sake.

Taking up an electric screwdriver, Elster removed the attachments keeping the chestplate in place. Most of the torso was wrapped in artificial musculature, followed by a synthetic skin to protect it. But the area over the ribcage was removable. A necessity in the event emergency surgery needed to be performed...or, as was the case here, an intact chassis needed recycling.

Elster levered the plate loose with a metal tool, then placed both hands on. She braced herself. As expected, her back flared into pain as she pulled the plate off. She hissed, wincing. "...fuck..."

When she put the plate to the side, her eyes watered. Even through the mask, she could still smell the pungent aroma of rotting bio-components. Left to fester in their housing, the vat-grown organs smelled rank.

She coughed, furrowing her brow. She nudged the plastic bucket on the floor closer to the worktable. Then, sighing, she took a scalpel and started the painstaking process of clearing the chest cavity.

There was never a possibility of saving the organs. But Elster didn't need to. The back of the workshop held intact freezers full of viable replika organs, and gallons of pre-mixed oxidizing fluid.

Her eye wandered to the machines set against one wall, in which she'd placed the contents of her carrying cases: replika brains painstakingly grown on the trip to the Oort Cloud. Already enmeshed with scavenged or scratch-built mechanical components.

The organs in storage wouldn't be a perfect genetic match to the brains. But, if the data she had available was accurate, only a "blood type" match was truly necessary.

At least, they would be for the Generation 2 replika she was working on. The Nation and Empire diverged at a later point in replika development, and the early models were deliberately kept around for their robust construction and ease of maintenance. So long as their "blood types" matched (an unavoidable nuance kept in with the development of oxidizing fluid), the organs would, hopefully, play nice together.

As Elster dropped putrescent organs into the bucket, in preparation for incineration, she took no pleasure in dwelling on how much like a vulture she was in that moment. Perhaps, she thought, intellectualizing to dissociate from her grim task, I should be designated a "GEIR" unit. I feed on death often enough.

With the bulk of the soft tissues removed, Elster dragged the body over to a convenient drain in the floor. She removed her medical gloves, then unfurled and turned on a hose from the wall. She slathered the chasis in liquid soap, then proceeded to hose the whole thing down. She watched the various colored fluids lazily bleed off into the drain.

Note to self, Elster thought, make sure the water reclamation filters are functioning.

 

Tap tap tap tap tap.

Elster depressed one last key, sending the computer churning. Text cascaded up the screen at the speed of thought.

She walked over to the calibration pod, checking one last time all the wires were attached. Nodding to herself, she took her place at the head of the pod, overlooking the replika's exposed metal skull.

Elster picked up the helmet festooned with diodes and wires connecting to the pod. With a deep breath, she placed it on her head.

Eusan civilization's understanding of replika functionalist was in many ways eclipsed by its ignorance. As Elster learned more about the Warp - its connections to Bioresonance, to daemons, to the human mind (gestalt and replika) - she came to understand that replika technology was underpinned by straight up Magic.

It wasn't a fact Elster liked to admit, even to herself. But it was true. Bioresonance was effectively Magic, and Bioresonance also was the lynch pin of replika technology. And thus, by extension, her own creation.

Nowhere was this connection more evident than the need of bioresonant individuals to create (and, in the case of the Nation, manipulate) replikas. Which made the matter of creating them without a bioresonant adept kind of tricky. The Nation either couldn't crack it or, because of their fixation on Bioresonance, never bothered to. They simply leaned more on bioresonant individuals recruited from the Nation's population.

Although, with the advent of first KLBR and then FLKR units, this was no longer strictly necessary, on the low end. That said, the data Elster seized from the Nation's central archive made it clear creating a replika with bioresonant potential became exponentially harder if the adept wasn't the equal to replika they sought to create. There was only so well one could bootstrap replika bioresonance, before the effort required was prohibitive. Falkes especially, as powerful psychic minds, demanded other powerful minds to create. (Among other, more mundane resource bottlenecks that went into their construction). There was a reason the Nation couldn't (or wouldn't) mass produce their Wunderwaffen commanders. Elster couldn't know for sure, but FLKR creation by the Nation being entirely dependent on the Great Revolutionary's Daughter was entirely possible.

While this all seemed to still hold true, on the low end, the Eusan Empire seemingly made strides the Nation hadn't. According to what Elster gathered from the user manuals on the Nomarch for the equipment she was using, all gestalts and replikas were on some level bioresonant.

(Mik'hul had been quick to say this wasn't entirely true. That some humans had no connection to the Warp whatsoever. But the daemon refused to elaborate further, and Elster didn't feel like pressing the matter).

Perhaps as a leap made specifically with the Nomarch mission in mind, the Empire developed devices that could boost bioresonance, and even allow for its use in those with otherwise undetectable potential. The applications for this boost were, at the time the Nomarch mission set off, extremely limited and narrow in scope. Indeed, they seemed to center around one admittedly useful application: replika creation and mind-shaping.

Hence, Elster wearing the funny wire hat.

As far as Elster knew, she had no inherent "psychic" ability. LSTR units were not designed for it, and she had no inherited memory from her gestalt that implied she was bioresonant either. That said, it was a necessary step in her plans, so she might as well try.

She'd studied the user manuals extensively. The Empire, in preparing the Nomarch mission, ran with the assumption that their outpost, over a long enough timeframe, might not have crewmates with sufficient bioresonance. Let alone have such experience continuously from one generation to another. Bioresonance potential was, though somewhat tied to heredity, a fickle gift. The Nomarch crew needed not only the capability to bootstrap their baseline bioresonance, but to know HOW to employ it to make replikas, and have that information not be tied to institutional knowledge within the crew. As such, the documentation was thorough.

Still, as Elster flipped the last switch and shut her eyes, she became aware of the gap between what could be explained, and what she needed to experience herself.

Her brain...tingled. Like a foot or hand gone to sleep, and only just permitted to feel again. She pushed out, and into the space carved out by the machine at a crossroads between herself, the ship's computer, and the new replika brain. It was surreal, and gave her a brief sense of vertigo.

Elster existed on two layers of reality in her daily life. The physical reality of her senses, and the digital reality of her internal systems. As the machine hummed and drove micro-electric impulses to her replika brain, she felt herself thrust into a new, third layer. A layer of riotous colors that flowed like oil on water. For a moment, she was lost in the sensation of being.

She bit her lip and pushed forward. She had work to do.

First, she engaged in what the manuals called "Psycho-Calibration". Not calibration of the replika in front of her, but calibration of Elster's own mind. Completely untrained, Elster needed to go through the initial process of learning how to even comprehend the mental space, much less shape it. It involved a great deal of drawing the colors around (inside?) her into discreet boxes, and in taking masses of conceptual matter leaking out into concrete strings of data, into words. Imposing order on chaos.

In a few minutes, she managed to decipher a set of fuzzy UI elements. Her mind reached out and touched "Calibration", and spent several more minutes engaging in pre-generated exercises from the machine. More building boxes, more enforcing concrete meaning on free-floating ideas, more learning to hold all this "stuff" in her "hands". (She found herself almost instinctively conceptualizing her means of interacting with the mental space as hands, something the manual suggested. She did it without thinking, really.)

A low ache was starting to form in her head. The manual said this was normal, and that new users of the machine should take breaks periodically as they learned. Elster was on a time table, though, and pressed forward.

She shifted in the mental void, drawing down into the realm of the replika brain. Elster could see the tangle of neurons, firing and receding, encased in a transparent shell. She held it in her hands. It was such a delicate thing. She allowed herself to look into it. She expected it to be empty, but this was not the case. It was no tabula rasa. It felt like a glass fishbowl, in which the rudiments of animal existence were already present, framed and mediated by cold metal. The biological and mechanical components of the replika brain, rendered as mudskippers crawling through a shallow puddle.

Elster observed the bowl, first with curiosity, then with a mind for the technical. She sought what the manual described as signs of imperfection in the organ itself. The mechanical components could be manufactured or found, but the meat had to be grown. It was a delicate and inexact process, turning raw organic elements into a wetware machine capable of sapient thought. Elster learned how to spot catastrophic flaws that would make the brain unusable, or so unstable it would cause long-term problems. But, especially being a complete novice, Elster had no way of know where the truly insidious cognitive pitfalls might be in the base organ. She sighed, accepting the two would simply have to proceed, and live with whatever the neurological lottery gave the replika.

Ascending back to the crossroads, Elster reaching into the computer system. Here, the ordered logic of machines held far greater sway than the fuzzy boundaries of the nascent brain. It was like paging through her digital interface, except with pages she drew herself on the fly from dreams.

The machine was largely easy to navigate. It had to be, since there wasn't a great deal left in it.

In what probably seemed like a heroic act of patriotism, one of the last surviving crewmates on the Nomarch 06 apparently saw fit to reset the ship's computer to factory settings. Years of data, and vast libraries of knowledge, thrown in the bin. A practical move, since the ship (as part of the Empire's fleet) likely contained all manner of sensitive information. If the Nation found the ship after the crew died, that would compromise the Empire's operational security. So, with death breathing down the Nomarch's neck, it had to be deleted. The spycraft equivalent of scuttling the ship.

All that remained of data (beyond base systems) in the Nomarch was either in physical media, data backups she hadn't found yet, or the security camera records (which were on a separate system).

Unfortunately for Elster, this also meant the copies of every replika neural pattern the Nomarch could make were erased along the way. Even if she wanted to directly recreate the Empire replikas in their proper chassis, she couldn't.

Fortunately for Elster, she didn't need to. She had the vast technical records of the Soul Forges to draw on, and a direct line of data transfer via Mik'hul.

Had to move more quickly. Her brain was starting to hurt.

She perused the now slightly populated data stacks of the Nomarch, going through its downloaded library of Eusan Nation neural patterns. She found the one she sought easily. It was near the top of the list, alphabetically.

Bringing the template down to the waiting brain was...odd. It wasn't just dragging a file into a new folder. Elster had trouble conceptualizing it in that way. Rather, she found the transfer to the brain fishbowl to be more akin to drawing water from a well with her hands. No matter how much she drew, the well didn't seem to change. The advantages of copying.

As the water tumbled into the bowl, she discovered it was populated by all manner of plants and fish. (The metaphor was becoming solidified in her mind, and thus solidified in her bioresonant perception of it). She could reach down and caress these creatures. Scenes from a life not her own flashed in Elster's mind. Some were quite intimate moments.

Elster drew her hand back. It wouldn't be right to invade a person's privacy in such a manner, any more than she already was. Elster had enough guilt about drawing on the memories of her own gestalt. Something about that division between template and replika instantiation felt like a line she ought not cross. Like violating the privacy of one's own parent.

Elster poured the last drops to be drawn from the well. The full breadth of who the gestalt was lay in the bowl.

Now the question of what to do about this ostensible copy of a dead woman Elster planned to animate.

Some part of Elster considered simply leaving the replika as-is. Let her be a copy, with full mastery of her memories as a gestalt. To let her be reborn. (The part of her aware of her mounting headache was very in favor of getting the job done already).

But Elster pushed forward, and followed basic procedure. The reason was obvious: she would be forcing a dead woman back into the land of the living, in a body that vaguely resembled her gestalt one, but was different in many ways. Elster had enough dysphoria herself, arising from the clash between her emergent gestalt memories and her replika body. She wouldn't wish that on another, least of all done with full and complete knowledge of what was lost.

Moreover, while the Nation's practice of blocking gestalt memories was done with ulterior motives - to make their machine slaves easier to control - their data was very clear. When replikas had full memory of their templates, they tended to spiral into distress, confusion, and depression. (Especially when, as was often the case, the "donor" did not consent to becoming a template, and moreover often perished suddenly and violently). Not to mention existential horror of being a copy, or seeing other copies of themselves running around. All without touching how many gestalts turned into replika templates, by virtue of selection bias, were "war heroes". Elster understood well that memory could be an open, weeping wound.

There was a certain kindness to making replikas forget. Even if the Nation was in no way kind, save when it suited them.

Plus...Elster had to admit, she was being selfish. She really didn't have the time or energy to deal with a dead woman's baggage. She had corpses to move.

Was this how the Nation justified itself? she thought, clinically. Spinning half-truths and self-serving narratives, to make their own convenience seem kind?

Elster sighed, and returned to the fishbowl. She drew down a handful of black, silty liquid, cupping it in her hand. The water of Lethe. She poured it down into the bowl, watching it spread and fill the space. Fish and plants disappeared from view.

Whoever the woman was in life, it was all still there. Resting in sleep beneath the murky waters. It would simply be hidden from sight. Only to be revealed in bits and pieces, as the silt settled over time, or fish plopped up from the water to glint in the sun, or a hand reached down to probe the depths. The full picture, for the foreseeable future, was obscured. Only those skills (or traumas) writ in her bones would be felt.

May this darkness help you sleep. Please, let her at least have that.

 

"Ffffuuuuuck...Agh!"

There was a jackhammer in her brain when she drew herself out of the bioresonant reverie.

Elster sank into a chair and clutched her aching head. "Uuugghh..." she groaned, screwing her eyes shut.

The pain was distinctive. Familiar. She couldn't remember feeling it during her replika life. But her gestalt knew it. The pain of a getting a hard workout on a muscle she'd never used, that she didn't even know was there.

And just like the aftermath of working an underused muscle, Elster was left regretting every life choice she ever made. (So, no change there).

Should not have pushed it, she thought, rubbing aching temples, as if she could relieve pressure in her very mind. Should have taken a break. I went way too fucking long, and now it feels like I'm dying.

Her head ached so much, she barely registered the ache in her back from bending over in pain. She forced herself to straighten out. If nothing else, she could stop one part of her body from hurting.

Elster sank back in her chair, squinting. At least that task was complete. All that was left was to finish grafting the skin, and it would be time to activate.

Tomorrow. Elster rubbed her eyes, feeling the throb between her ears. A job for tomorrow.

 

Wake up.

The replika's eyes fluttered open. Replacing a scrawl of computer boot-up text, with the overwhelming shine of overhead lights.

"...uh..." she groaned, squinting.

She became aware of the enclosed space in which she was entombed, as it tilted up. She slid down, putting her full weight on mechanical legs.

The glass front of her cybernetic coffin popped open, swinging up. Steam billowed out from the machine. The replika's bleary eyes began to focus. She looked around at the steam. The way it moved...captivating. Her eyes traced the form of the parts that lined her pod. She found she knew how those parts worked.

She could not remember where she learned that. For that matter, she could not remember how she came to fall asleep.

The metal bands holding her upright disengaged. "Ah!" she cried, grasping the edge of the pod for support.

"Guten Morgen."

The replika's eyes frantically shot up. In front of her, standing atop a floor of metal grating, surrounded by machines and workstations, was a woman. A replika, her mind supplied. A very person-ish face, attached to a vaguely person-ish body wrought in metal and polyethylene. A gas mask hung from her neck by the strap.

The other replika smiled. "...and, I suppose, Alles Gute zum Geburtstag."

The replika blinked. "...b-birthday?" She looked down at the floor. She understood the concept, both each word separately and together. It was her birthday? Was she just born?

The replika took a single tentative step. She nearly fell over, needing to catch herself on the lip of the pod again.

"Easy, easy. Take it slow," said the other replika, lifting her hands up plaintively. She kept smiling. "Don't rush."

The replika took a couple more steps. She lost her balance for a moment, metallic limbs clanking on the grated floor. She swayed uneasily, like a newborn deer. She froze when she found a stable position, holding her arms out to either side. She panted, feeling her heart race.

She realized why she felt so shaky. Why her footing was so unsure. She didn't have feet. She had a set of hooves.

That doesn't seem right, she thought. Did she always have hooves? It's my birthday. So...I guess I have...?

She looked back up at the other replika. "...w-who...are you?"

The other replika nodded. "I am LSTR 512. You can call me Elster." She stood up straighter, then winced. She arched her back. Elster said, letting the smile fade, "State your unit designation...please."

"M-my designation?" the replika said. She reshuffled her hooves, so her legs weren't splayed out. "Uh..."

"Your name," Elster supplied. "Please."

It came to her quickly, as if she'd always known it. "...ARAR...N06...01?"

Ara touched her lips pensively. If today was her birthday, how did she know that? Or did replikas just know?

Elster nodded. "Good. Designation implantation successful."

"...where are...we?" Ara said, looking around. The room was filled with machines, many she could recognize on sight.

"We are on the Nomarch 06," Elster said. "A void vessel parked in the Eusan System Oort Cloud."

"Oh," Ara said, looking at the floor. She tested her footing (hoofing?) further, by taking tentative, wobbly steps to the side. The words "Oort Cloud" were nebulous, registered little specific. But "Eusan" was very legible. It was where she lived...right? It seemed important.

"How are you feeling?" Elster asked, tilting her head.

"Eh?" Ara looked up. She touched her lips again, looking down. "I...uh...I don't..."

What was she supposed to say? Did Elster mean her mood? Her health? Was the question meant literally? Was she supposed to explain how she...felt things?

Elster seemed to sense the Ara's confusion. She leaned her head forward nervously. "Sorry, I'm putting such a broad question to you first thing. I mean, how are you feeling physically? Are you in any pain?"

A knot loosened in Ara's chest. "Oh!" she said, eyes darting back up. "N-no, I'm fine. Nothing hurts."

"Any discomfort? Stiffness?"

Ara looked at her hands, as if they would somehow give answers. "I...don't think so...?"

"Can you stretch your body for me?" Elster asked. Seeing the questioning look on the Ara's face, Elster performed a series of stretches in demonstration. Arms straight up, bending legs, twisting her midsection either direction. With some of them, Elster winced, shutting her eyes.

Ara tried her best to mimic the movements. She felt artificial muscles ache slightly as she strained against them. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling. Indeed, it felt liberating. Stiffness and tension she didn't even know were there melted away. When she tried to lift her leg to stretch her thighs, she nearly fell over. "Ah!" she cried, flailing her arms and wobbling back to standing position.

"You don't need to strain yourself!" Elster said, holding her hands up again. "It's not super important you do them all." When Ara settled back into a neutral standing position, Elster said, "How are your eyes? Are you seeing me well enough?"

"I...think so..." Ara said, covering and uncovering her eyes. She didn't really have a solid frame of reference. Just a vague feeling of what things "should" look like.

"Are you hearing me clearly?"

"Yes," Ara nodded, hands reaching up to stroke her ears. She had to dig under a mop of hair. Curious, she touched a lock and pulled it into view. It was black and shiny.

Elster nodded. "Good."

Ara looked over at the older replika. "W-why so many questions?"

"I needed to know if there were any problems in the replika creation process." Elster scratched her cheek, giving a nervous grin. "I've...never made one before..."

"Oh?" Ara blinked. It hadn't occurred to her to consider that she was created.

"Plus," Elster said, folding her hands behind her back, "I'm not exactly working under ideal circumstances. I hate to dump this on you, since you were just born. But..." Elster frowned. "...we're kind of in a dire situation right now."

"Oh?" Ara frowned. "D-dire?"

"Really bad."

"How bad?"

The older replika shut her eyes and breathed in. Breathed out. She opened her eyes.

"Our civilization has been conquered by an expansionist Imperium from beyond the gulfs of space, currently bent on galactic dominion. Gestalts...natural born humans from which we replikas are patterned...are being enslaved to that Imperium's war machine. We are currently hiding in the Oort Cloud, because the Imperium's forces kill replikas like us on sight. We have few resources and even fewer allies." She gasped. "...and this ship is a near derelict full of dead bodies."

Ara stared, mouth agape in horror.

"Like I said," Elster shut her eyes. "Bad. Dire. Whatever you want to call it."

Ara started to hyperventilate.

Elster threw her hands up plaintively. "Calm down! Breathe! It's okay!" she said, a bead of sweat rolling down her face. "We're not in immediate danger! We're just..." She inhaled. "It's just...a lot..."

Ara bit her lip. She hugged herself, trembling.

"Take a deep breath," Elster said. "In...and out..."

Ara took a deep breath. She tried not to cough, as her throat wanted to close up. She shut her eyes. Breathed.

"You're okay," Elster said. "We're okay. We can get through this."

Ara sniffed, looking up. "...Elster?"

"Yeah?"

"W-why did you make me?" Ara said, her eyes becoming moist with the suggestion of tears. "If everything is so bad...why am I here?"

"..." Elster rubbed her arm. "I'm going to give it to you straight. I didn't make you wholly out of a desire to create life, or to have someone to talk to." She took a deep breath. Exhaled. "As an ARAR unit, you are equipped with knowledge of technical maintenance. You are robust, and can perform a variety of tasks. I don't mean to belittle your...value as a person..."

She stared directly into Ara's eyes. "...but...you're an extra set of hands...and there's so much to do..." She sighed. "...and I just really need some help."

Ara held herself for the space of several breaths. She looked at the haggard LSTR unit in front of her.

Ara rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. She sniffed, looking away. "...okay."

Elster's face rose an inch. "Really?"

Ara nodded. "Yeah," she said. She looked Elster in the eyes. "If I can do anything to help, I will." She made the effort to smile. "Just...tell me what it is, and I'll do it!"

Elster exhaled in relief. "Good. I'd glad." She turned around. "Cause we have to start now."

"Eh? Now?" Ara said, leaning slightly forward.

"Yep."

Elster grabbed a screwdriver from a work station and tossed it towards Ara. "Catch!"

"Ah!" Ara cried, frantically pawing the air. The tool bounced a bit in her hands, until she got a grip on it.

A stool squeaked on the ground as Elster dragged it out to the worktable.

She sat down, facing away from Ara. Her head turned to look over her shoulder. She pointed a thumb to her back. "We start with me."

"Eh?" Ara said, mouth twitching. "O-on you?"

Elster nodded. She turned her head to look forward. Her hand crossed to rub her shoulder. "Something's wrong with my back. It's in a spot I can't reach myself. Help me out? It's been killing me for months."

"Ah! Right!" Ara clutched the tool in surprise, then made to trot over.

Unfortunately, she still wasn't used to having hooves. She tripped over herself. "Oop!" She fell forward, thudding to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Elster said, turning to looked over her shoulder.

"Ow..." Ara whispered. Her hands stung, from catching herself. "I'm fine." She wobbled to her hooves, swaying around before she caught her balance. "Just not...used to this..." Ara looked at her stinging hands, thankful they had no real skin to bruise. A surreal feeling.

"Sorry," Elster said, exhaling. She faced forward. "It's...a lot, isn't it?"

"I guess?" Ara said, smiling nervously. She wobbled over, tool in hand.

"Lean on me, if you need to," Elster said.

"Thank you!" Ara said, taking Elster up on her offer. She placed her free hand on the older replika's shoulder. Her body was strong enough to stand. It's just her legs wouldn't quite do what they were told. She planted her hooves and leaned over Elster's back.

Her eyes surveyed the damage. "Well there's your problem," she said, smiling. "May I?"

"Go ahead," Elster nodded.

Ara plunged the screwdriver in with one motion. Her hand turned the screw quickly, efficiently. It came as naturally as breathing.

She felt Elster shudder under her hand. The older replika breathed, tension flooding from her shoulder muscles.

The top of the screw came free, the end broken off. "I figured this was the case," Ara said. "Hold on."

She looked around, and wobbled over to the worktable. Her hands rifled through a toolbox, picking out items on autopilot. She wandered back over, placing the tools beside her on the table. "Gotta dig the stubborn stub out. This'll take a few minutes."

The task was arduous. It was a stubborn screw. But Ara found the process soothing. She didn't think, so much as just DO.

Before she knew it, she was turning the screw with a pair of pliers. She pulled it free. "Got you, you bastard!" she whispered, holding the screw stub up triumphantly. "This is the source of your troubles."

Elster smiled. "Thanks." She sighed, rolling her back. She fished a replacement screw from a bag at her waist. "Here."

"Thank you," Ara said, taking the screw. She held it up, nodded to herself, and inserted it. In less than ten seconds, she tightened the screw fully and lifted the tool away. "All done!"

Elster stood up and arched her back. She started to stretch. She shut her eyes. "Mmmm...finally..." she said, luxuriating in the sensation of her body working as intended.

"Feel better?"

"Much." Elster stretched her arm up until she heard an audible pop. She sighed, turning around. "Thank you, 01."

"You're welcome!" Ara said, smiling. She looked down, thinking. "...Zero One, huh? Does that mean you're going to make more?"

"That's the plan, yeah," Elster nodded.

"Seems weird," Ara said, touching her lips. "Being called a number."

Elster blinked, then looked away. "Well, if you think of any name you'd rather be called, just tell me."

"What do I call you?" Ara said.

"Elster is fine." She walked over to a different table. Started fishing through a canvas bag. "I don't plan on making any more of me."

And, Elster thought, it's what Ariane calls me. When she's not calling me Ellie. If it's good enough for Ariane, it's perfect.

"Okay," Ara said, nodding. "What do we do now, Elster?"

Elster walked over and handed an object to Ara.

Ara looked down. It was another gas mask.

"Now," said Elster, walking over to the workshop door, "we do something about all the corpses."

Ara blinked.

"EH!?"

Chapter 12: Distress Signal

"W-why couldn't they all be in bags?"

The two replikas stooped around a gestalt body. Their hooves scratched up patches of dried blood with every step.

"They were trying," Elster said. She tucked her hands under the man's armpits. "Then it all got out of hand. Got him?"

Ara nodded, grasping the man's ankles. Even with the gas mask on her face, she tried not to breathe deep. The stench was simply too great.

"On three. One, two..." Elster said. "...three!"

They hoisted the body as one, rising to standing positions. They walked sideways, before unceremoniously dropping the gestalt on a cargo cart like a bag of mulch. His body heaped onto two others, their limbs splayed out in all directions.

They were far more careful and respectful the first several times. After an almost continuous cycle of corpse-carting, though, that level of care just petered out. The replikas nudged his limbs more effectively on the cart using their hooves.

Elster looked at her companion. Saw the eyes, so hyper-aware and fretful at the start, growing more tired and glassy. Elster was both glad, and saddened, how rote the movements were becoming.

Is it really becoming easier for her? Elster thought. Is she just getting tired? Or is she dissociating? Elster paused as she took her place behind the cart handle. Is that all "getting used to it" ever was?

 

"It's so sad."

Ara stopped herself from pressing gloved, gore-stained fingers to her lips. Instead, she laced her fingers together and just stared down.

Elster was busy disentangling the gestalt man from the diminutive replika he cradled. Rigor mortis complicated the process. As if his dying will refused to give the little one up. "A little help?" Elster said flatly, flashing aggravated eyes up to her companion.

"Sorry!" Ara said, stooping down. She tried to gingerly pull an arm back, to free the replika. It didn't budge easily.

"Harder," Elster said, pulling on the other arm with one hand, and trying to pull the replika free with her other.

"I don't..." Ara whined, "...I don't want to b-break it..."

Elster looked her dead in the eyes, making Ara flinch. "He's already dead, and he's going into the incinerator anyway! Just pull!"

Ara whined behind her mask, but did as she was told. She pulled hard. She thought she heard a snap. But it might have been her imagination.

"...there!" Elster breathed, pulling the replika body free. She left the girl on her side and walked behind the man. "Lift his other arm. He's so stiff, he won't lie flat."

They hauled him by the arms and shoulders to where the cart rested outside the chapel. As expected, he remained in kneeling position. They loaded him on his side.

Ara took one last look at the chapel. The statuette of the gestalt woman in the shawl, face obscured in folds of sculpted fabric. The figure overlooked the discarded replika, that rested on carpet stained brown.

The newborn replika frowned behind her mask. "Should we burn them together? They seemed to mean a lot to each other..."

"Can't," Elster said, taking her place at the cart handles. "I'll need her chassis if I ever want to build a Kolibri."

"W-we have spare parts, d-don't we?" Ara said, looking at Elster.

"We're not wasting perfectly good parts!" Elster barked, meeting the Ara's eyes. She pursed her lips. "Let's go."

She started pushing. After a few meters, she realized she wasn't being followed. "What's the matter?" she said, looking back.

The Ara's hands were clasped together. She was trembling.

Elster sighed. "Look, we have to take all the dead tissues out of the replikas anyway," she said, waving a hand. "That's all of her that was actually her. We can do it later."

"It's not the same!" Ara said, turning her head briefly to Elster. She looked back towards the open chapel. "If...if they don't go together..."

"We're doing it later, 01," Elster said. "Come on!" She turned to push the cart again.

"No!"

Elster looked over her shoulder. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

Ara stamped her hoof. "I'm not...ngh...d-doing...the..." She flailed her arms angrily. "Nrrgh!" she growled, before slamming her arm against the metal wall next to the chapel door.

She hissed, shaking her hand. Tears of pain formed in her eyes.

"..." Elster stared. "...are you done?"

Ara looked over her shoulder, eyes piercing. She clutched her aching hand. "Y-yes!" She stamped her hoof again, flailed her arms, then sank to sit on the floor, facing away. "I'm d-done!" She crossed her arms and shut her eyes.

Elster blinked. "..."

The young replika hugged herself, not even caring about the gore coating her gloves. Her head hung low, her teeth gritted.

She started to sob.

Elster held a hand out to Ara, then let it drop. She frowned. "..."

She watched the girl quietly cry for a minute. Then, Elster walked beside her and sat down. She faced the same direction as the Ara, so they were side by side.

"...I'm sorry," Elster said, staring at the floor. "I shouldn't have raised my voice."

Ara didn't look at Elster. She simply rocked herself forward and back, hugging her arms. She sobbed.

"...you've been working very hard, all day," Elster said, glancing at Ara. "I shouldn't have pushed you. You're...you were just born, and I'm putting so much pressure on you. I'm sorry."

Ara sniffed, rubbing tears from her eyes with the back of her arm.

"Do you want to stop for today?" Elster asked.

Ara sniffed again, nodding.

"Okay. You can stop." Elster reciprocated the nod. "Do you want me to leave the man, to burn later with the replika?"

The younger replika's chest heaved. "...it's okay...it's st-stupid..."

"It's not stupid," Elster said. "I was so concerned with making progress, I ignored your feelings. We can wait to burn him until we remove the replika's tissues. Then we can burn them together. Would you like that?"

Ara nodded, rubbing her eyes.

"Okay. I'm going to take the rest of the bodies to the incinerator." Elster put her hooves under her and crouched. She pointed a thumb down the hall behind them. "How about you go to the bathrooms and take a shower? Maybe go to the kitchens and get yourself something to eat? Find a bed and go to sleep? Does that sound good?"

"...yeah...okay..." Ara said, sniffing. She finally looked over at Elster. "...t-thank you..."

"No problem," Elster said, standing up. "And hey...tomorrow, I can show you something."

"Hmm?" Ara said, looking up at Elster. "Show me what?"

 

"Here we are. What do you think?"

Ara gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth.

The room was positively filled with green.

The two replikas stepped through the doorway and into the hydroponics bay. The white overhead lights were supplemented by shades of red that filtered out from beneath shelf after shelf of plants. These red lights could barely be seen through the dense overgrowth. Some plants were so large, they arched up beyond their shelves, or draped down like curtains until they scraped the floor. Automated water circulation systems burbled, creating a constant, soothing white noise.

Ara cautiously approached, running her hand along the green curtains. Her fingers caressed a white flower. "...how?" she whispered. "Did you...?"

"No." Elster shook her head. "They were like this when I arrived. There's been so much to do, I haven't had any time to even touch this room." She breathed, taking in the rich, fresh air. A welcome respite from the stale, cloying rot of the rest of the ship. "The automated systems have just been running this whole time."

Ara walked around, going from row to row. What she couldn't identify by sight, she picked out by pulling back overgrowth and reading their labels. The selection was as diverse as it was extensive, taking up large portions of a whole floor of the Nomarch. Fruits. Vegetables. Berries. Herbs. Spices. Flowers. The floor on many rows was piled with rotting produce, left to drop and fester, or dry out. If anything, the molds and shriveled skins added to the riot of colors, somehow both vivid and soothing. Replika hooves crunched on an omnipresent layer of dried leaf-litter.

Breaking up the orderly rows were whole trees, planted in the floor. Their roots dug into rich earth, their leaves long overtaking the red grow lights above. From their branches hung a variety of fruits, from apples to pears to lemons to oranges. Other parts of the bay were partitioned off by vertical panes of wooden grates, on which dense grapevines grew. The air was pungent with sickly sweet juice from fallen fruit.

Elster strolled up to the Ara slowly, watching her spin around, eyes wide. Elster smiled. "How do you like it?"

Ara looked over, nodding. "I never thought...there could be so many plants on a spaceship." She twirled around, taking in the sight.

She stopped, walking over to one shelf. She inspected a set of yellowed leaves. "...some of these plants...they're..."

Elster shrugged. "Not doing well, yes. Some of the reservoirs for nutrients have probably long emptied by now. No one was around to mix more. Or to recycle the biomass going to waste."

"...they need trimming, too," Ara said, nodding. "They all do."

"I'll leave that to you, then," Elster said. When the Ara looked over, Elster continued. "I don't know much about taking care of plants. But I know you Aras have a knack for it. I'm confident they're in the right hands."

Ara forced a smile. "I can do that."

"I still need your help around the ship, of course," Elster said. "So much to do, so little time to do it."

"Y-yeah," Ara said, nodding quickly. "I understand."

"I'll especially need help until I can get more ARAR units up and running. But if you want, you can spend your free time getting this place in order. You and any other Aras have free reign to do with it as you wish."

"I'd like that," Ara said. "Thank you, Elster."

Elster nodded, then turned around. "Meet me back in the workshop in an hour or so. I'm going to get started emptying out replika bodies."

"Okay!" Ara said, her face already turned back to the plants.

Elster walked away, smiling.

 

Hey boss. You're not gonna believe this.

Elster's scalpel, caked in putrescent oxidizing fluid, paused poised over the dead replika's chest cavity.

She turned her head, looking up.

She didn't know the daemon could contact her psychically all the way from the Penrose. Then again, there'd never been a time before arriving at the Nomarch when she had the opportunity to be close to the Penrose but not inside it. So the daemon's telepathic range was a mystery. It certainly seemed quieter at the moment. More distant.

Elster looked over her shoulder, making sure Ara wasn't around. "What's the matter?" she whispered aloud.

Have you been listening to your radio, boss?

"Not really," Elster said. A finger tapped the scalpel. "No reason to. Can't get much this far out but deep space noise and scavenger chatter."

Turn it on. Tune it to between 75.000 and 150.000.

Elster shrugged, retreating into her digital interface. She switched on the radio module and started tuning.

When she hit the right range, she stopped. After a span of 20 seconds, her eyes widened. She dropped the scalpel onto the metal tray beside her.

Shit! she thought, frantically pulling off medical gloves and plastic apron. Elster rushed to the door.

Shit, shit, shit!

 

"-by unknown Xenos lifeform, extremely dangerous. Request immediate assistance...This is the Imperial Frigate Joys of Duty, calling for assistance. Please resp-"

The Ara nervously weaved her fingers together in front of her. "...do you know what it's saying?" she said, looking back and forth between the older replika and the speaker.

Elster's arms were crossed as she stared at the radio equipment. She glanced at the Ara. Right, right, she wouldn't understand, she thought. Note to self: figure out whatever Imperial language core Vashtorr put in me, isolate it, and put it in all future replikas going forward.

She sighed, closing her eyes. "It's a distress signal. From a ship called the Joys of Duty."

"Oh..." Ara said, looking at the speaker.

"..." Elster glanced back to the Ara. "...that's the Imperial ship outside."

"Eh?" Ara said, her head snapping back to Elster. "The one outside?" The newborn replika had seen it, of course, in the windows looking out the port side of the Nomarch. "D-didn't you say it had aliens on it?"

"I did," Elster nodded. "It's why I figured the ship was empty, sans perhaps monsters. If anyone was alive, I figured we'd have heard a peep from them by now." She stared at the radio speaker, which kept looping its recorded message. "That was, until this started."

Ara chewed her thumb. "...maybe it was running for awhile? And we just didn't notice?"

Elster shook her head. "I would have known before."

"Why?"

"..." Elster didn't know how to respond. She couldn't reveal the daemon's existence. It was too dangerous. At the very least, she couldn't risk dealing with the fallout of others knowing about him, in any capacity, at the moment. "...I'll tell you later," she finally said. She then cursed herself, as this implied a timetable in which she WOULD explain.

She needed to pivot. "This is very bad," Elster said. "Even with interference from the asteroid belt, this message is going to filter out and bring Imperials running sooner or later."

Ara's hackles got up. She clapped a hand over her face. "Oh no...what do we do?"

Elster tapped a finger on her crossed arm. She glared at the radio equipment.

She could simply fly over in the shuttle, hunt the survivor(s) down, maybe kill the remaining aliens...in which there might be two...

Too fucking risky, Elster thought, gritting her teeth. I nearly died fighting one. I can't just fight two AND any survivors. 01 can't help, either. She'd just be a liability. And every minute the distress signal goes out, it's more likely someone will starting moving in.

A wheel turned in Elster's head. Her hand rose and stroked her chin.

"Elster?" Ara said, staring.

That...might work...

Elster stepped forward and fiddled with the radio controls. She picked up a microphone, flipped a switch, and held it to her mouth.

"Ach...A-attention, Imperial Frigate Joys of Duty," she said, shifting to the Imperial language with an almost audible clunk. "This is scavenger vessel Penrose 313, currently aboard the Nomarch. We read you loud and clear. Please respond."

The Ara gaped. "W-we're talking to them?" she said, fingers touching her lips nervously.

Elster nodded, cutting the mic.

"What did you say?"

Elster held an index finger to her lips. She snapped the mic back on. "Joys of Duty, please respond. This is the Penrose 313, aboard the Nomarch. We hear your distress signal. We can render aid. Over."

The two replikas waited. What was certainly a minute or two felt like an hour. Only the loop of the distress signal filled the silence.

Elster was about to turn the mic back on and repeat her message, before the signal abruptly cut out.

The radio was silent for a few seconds. Then, it flared to life.

"Oh, thank the Omnissiah," crackled the voice on the other end. It was distorted both by interference, and by an electronic edge to the sound itself. "Penrose 313, are you still there?"

Dammit, Elster cursed to herself, shaking her head. A fucking tech priest. She stood up straight and flicked the mic back on. "Yes, Joys of Duty, this is the Penrose. Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Penrose," said the voice. Elster realized, beneath layers of electronic augmentation, the voice was feminine, with an aged quality. "This is Diodana, Tech Priest of Holy Mars and head mechanic of the Joys of Duty. You are the Penrose-model vessel parked outside, are you not? I saw you a few days ago, when I was able to access a window."

"The very same, ma'am," Elster said. "Apologies, but we didn't think anyone was left alive over there. What with the explosion. Your message said there were aliens on board, over?"

"Alien, singular, yes," reported Diodana, "Two snuck onto the shuttle as our scout team returned from the Nomarch. As you have no doubt seen for yourself, efforts to eliminate the Xenos escalated, to my great consternation. I know for a fact one of the organisms was caught in the explosion. But..."

The static of an active line stayed on, but the voice went suddenly silent. Elster strained her ears. She couldn't be sure if the barely audible noises were more static, her imagination, or metallic bumps in the environment. Elster waited.

The voice on the other end returned, whispering. "...it is gone, I think. Did you hear it?"

Elster flicked the mic on, lowering her voice as much as she thought she could while remaining audible. "That's the other creature? Are you alright?"

"Yes, for now."

"We encountered a third on the Nomarch when we arrived," Elster said. "Nearly took my head off. It's dead now. From notes left behind, I can confirm there were three total creatures on the Nomarch. Yours is the last. Over."

"Penrose, I need immediate assistance," Diodana said. "The rest of the crew...my apprentices...even the remaining servitors have all perished, one by one. I'm all that's left. You are well aware the danger these foul Xenos pose. But please, I don't know how much longer I can evade it. Can you reach the Joys of Duty, Penrose?"

"...I can do one better," Elster said.

She smiled. "Just do what I say, and we can kill the thing..."

 

Screeeech.

Diodana's quadruple photo-receptors peeked through the hatch door, auspex scanners analyzing the corridor beyond. She winced internally at the noise.

But, as she conferred with her internal chronometer one last time, she leashed her fear. After all, noise was integral to the agreed upon plan.

At the appointed second, the tech priest slipped from her dubious sanctuary and walked. Her red robes and hanging wires swaying with the motion of her progress. In one mechanical hand, she clutched a laspistol, looted earlier from a fallen voidsman. In the other mechanical hand, hanging heavy, was a metal wrench.

CLANG.

Every few meters, Diodana lashed out with the wrench, smacking a wall-mounted pipe or bulkhead. Her face turned around rapidly, keeping a vigil and studying the clang as it reverberated through the corridors and walls.

CLANG.

As a tech priest, she understood both how to strike to minimize any potential damage to the derelict ship's machinery (a matter of utmost importance), and how to elicit the most resounding noise.

CLANG.

By all accounts, a foolhardy plan. Beyond foolhardy. But Diodana repeated to herself the reasoning given to her: the Xenos filth could not be permitted to sully the Joys of Duty's holiness with its presence any longer.

CLANG.

The invader must die.

CLANG.

Above and behind her, Diodana heard thumping from the ceiling. She flinched, but kept moving. Her memory of the ship's structure told her exactly which air vent the creature was crawling through.

She took a corner, delaying her strike. She knew precisely where the creature's path would take it, and how it could most efficiently route to follow her.

CLANG.

Air rushed audibly through her respirator, at an accelerated rate. Her artificial heart automatically increased blood flow to compensate for her pace.

CLANG.

Diodana rounded another corner, then slipped through a bulkhead door to the stairs.

The shuffling in the vents moved past her, continuing down the corridor she just bypassed.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

She permitted the creature ample time to get ahead of itself, before correcting it against the steel railings of the stairwell. Diodana winced. One of her knees was still organic, and had finally begun to trouble her. She cursed herself, not for the first time in the past weeks, for not replacing the knee with augmetics as she had with everything below it.

CLANG.

Diodana slipped to the level two floors below, and strode on. Somewhere behind and to her left, she heard the shuffling and bumping again. She rounded a corner on her right, hoping to force a costly rerouting.

CLANG.

She slowed, both to catch her breath and to take in the sorrowful sight.

Diodana walked forward, metal feet inching around the bodies of two servitors, and that of Fandibar Nex. His crimson robes stained brown, torn away to reveal a gaping hole in his chest. His basic torso augmetics still sparked.

She turned her head away, unable to look. I'm sorry, apprentice, she thought. I sold your life dearly. Forgive me.

CLANG.

As she stepped away from the fallen, Diodana heard a metal scraping and a crash, off in the distance.

The tech priest rapidly accelerated through a jog, and into a run. The creature had lost patience with stalking.

She dispensed with almost all clanging. The creature would doubtless track her well enough by the sound of her clanking feet, and the smell of sweat mixed with machine lubricant. Her breathing grew heavier. Automated systems flooded her bloodstream with oxygen from a small reserve tank hung from her mechanical backpack.

Diodana rounded a corner, just as she heard the scraping of claws on metal grating down the corridor behind her.

The heat radiated from the ship's engine wafted through the air before her. The tech priest sprinted, running into the open room. Above her, catwalks circled around and above the enormous device that was the Joys of Duty's beating heart.

"I hope you're out there, woman!" Diodana cried, catching her breath. Her photo-receptors darting around to seek any sign of her rescuer. "It arrives shortly!"

She raised her laspistol, sweeping it around towards the mouth of the corridor from which she emerged. Sensors shifted her vision, compensating for the half-light beyond the room.

For a moment she saw and heard nothing, either of Xenos or human origin. She consulted her chronometer. She'd waited forty-five minutes before leaving her hiding place. Surely, even accounting for arming, suiting up, and launching a shuttle, this would be ample time to reach the Joys of Duty.

The laspistol wavered in her grip. For a moment she considered if her hand needed maintenance. Then she realized it was simply a loathsome physiological response, her bloodstream soaked in adrenaline. She dropped the wrench and held the laspistol with both metal hands. Diodana checked down the hall. Left, then right.

The scraping of claws, ABOVE!

Her gaze turned up to see the creature clamoring over the catwalk railing. Tentacled face writhing. Three arms raised, its fourth cut away in a previous, unsuccessful attempt on its life.

"Help!" Diodana cried, as she moved to fire up, then at the last minute dove forward. She heard the creature land behind her, claws gouging deep furrows in solid steel floors. "Help me!"

She rolled over, trying to aim. Her arm stubbornly refused to cooperate.

ZAP.

Her shot went wide, scorching a support beam and severing a loose power cable. To her horror, she saw the form of the Xenos rise and turn, silhouetted against electrical sparks.

"COVER YOUR EYES!"

A metal cylinder sailed through the air and landed on the ground between Diodana and the Xenos. The sound and motion caught the creature's sickly yellow eyes.

With a single thought, Diodana turned her photo-receptors AND her artificial ear off.. She ducked, clapping a hand over her one remaining organic ear.

BANG.

She felt the air pressure and heat through her body. Her organic ear rang only a little. She restored her deactivated senses, and sat up.

The creature's three arms flailed, throwing themselves over its face too late. It recoiled, gurgling and wheezing in pain. It staggered, swiping the air blindly.

"Now! Shoot it!" cried a figure in a navy blue environment suit, running out from cover. Her voice was muffled by the polarized glass helmet. But if her words were unclear, her raised lasgun sufficed.

Diodana raised her own laspistol, thankful their quarry was positioned opposite the precious ship's engine.

ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP.

The Xenos screamed as its body was dismantled, piece by piece, chunk by chunk, in a crossfire of directed energy. Its blue carapace turned violet by the red beams. Arms blew off, blackened and cauterized by the sudden heat. Tentacles roasted, flopping to the floor impotently.

As it fell, the woman in the suit shouted, "Hold!" She waited until Diodana ceased firing, then advanced on the Xenos as it toppled. A gloved hand adjusted an intensity knob on the weapon. She stopped just shy of its remaining flailing arms, then unloaded another volley. The beast's cries ceased entirely, as its head burst in a shower of superheated indigo gore.

All was silent, as the two women stared at the smoke wafting from the slaughtered alien form.

The rescuer lowered her weapon, removed the power pack, checked its charge, and slid it back in. A reflexive action. She stowed the lasgun on her back.

Diodana sighed, looking at the floor. "...thank you," she said, rolling to her hands and knees. She winced. She would definitely need to replace that knee.

As she rose, she heard the woman remove her helmet. "Salutations," Diodana said, brushing off her crimson robes. "...apologies, madam. In all the excitement, I neglected to ask your name..."

"It's Elster."

The tech priest turned just in time to see the replika pointing a laspistol at her.

"LSTR-512." Elster motioned with a flick of her laspistol. "Drop your weapon."

Chapter 13: Hereteknica

The laspistol clattered to the floor. The tech priest raised her hands.

"Kick it over," Elster said, aiming her own laspistol.

Diodana sighed. She kicked the weapon. It slid over the metal shop floor, resting at the replika's boot-clad hooves.

Elster stooped, not taking eyes off the tech priest as she picked the weapon up. Slipped it into her belt. "Thank you."

"Replika. Abominable intelligence," Diodana said, four photo-receptors glowing a soft green. Her electronically augmented voice issued from the respirator that obscured her face. "What do you want from me?"

Elster stared impassively, her laspistol steady. "Truth be told," she said, "I just wanted you to shut off that distress beacon."

The tech priest seemed to mull this over. "...you're in hiding from Imperial authorities."

"Yes." Elster nodded. "You of all people should understand every habitable world in the system is no longer safe for my kind." She narrowed her eyes. "Were you in my shoes, you wouldn't hesitate the shoot, no?"

"As I shouldn't," Diodana said, tilting her head. "Walking tech heresy. A sin against the Machine God."

"If I may ask," Elster said, "why so much hatred for thinking machines?"

The tech priest sighed audibly. "The Eusan people really have forgotten everything, haven't they? So you know, your kind - Abominable Intelligences - were partly responsible for the fall of humanity's galactic civilization, thousands of years ago."

"..." Elster raised a single eyebrow.

"At the end of what we call the Dark Age of Technology, mankind's mechanical servants turned against their masters. Our species only barely survived the carnage to follow. Since then, all right-thinking peoples ban the creation of autonomous machines. Combined with a period where Warp travel was, for reasons unknown, completely impossible, and this led directly to galactic societal collapse. The Eusan system is only one of a million worlds that clawed its way up from the ruins of mankind's folly. Unlike most, it did not learn from that mistake."

"Which is why it was so important to butcher millions of my people, right?" Elster said. The laspistol did not move. "Because from where I'm standing, replikas had nothing to do with the fall of gestalt civilization. Does that seem fair?"

"I won't take lectures on fairness from a soulless machine," Diodana said. "Least of all one who dealt in bad faith, to lead me into a trap."

"Can you blame me?" Elster sighed. She jabbed her laspistol forward for emphasis. "But maybe you should pick your words carefully. I don't care if you hate my kind. You can at least be civil to one holding the gun."

The tech priest's hands raised fractionally higher. "Very well," she said. "I will, however, reiterate my earlier question. What do you want from me? Do you plan to kill me?"

"..." Elster stared at the tech priest.

Killing Diodana had been the plan, more or less. Eliminate another enemy, offer another soul to Vashtorr. Loot the wrecked Imperium vessel for spare parts. Maybe move the Penrose 313 and Nomarch to some other corner of the Oort Cloud, in case more Imperials came to investigate. Never even think about this day again.

That was the plan. Up until she stepped into the engine room. Up until she saw the machine that towered above them.

She jerked her head towards the massive piece of machinery. "That your warp drive?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Diodana said, looking fractionally towards the machine. "It allows for the transition of the Joys of Duty from Realspace into the Warp, and vice versa. Along with various and sundry other sub-systems threaded throughout the ship. Why?"

Elster thought back to Vashtorr's words. That the ability to move between systems would be a great boon, and enable Elster to more effectively perform his will. In turn, letting her pay off her debt with something other than raw murder.

Up until now, it had been an idea that sounded nice. But functionally remote enough to warrant putting on the back burner. When she found intel on the Nomarch, her first and foremost concern was its facilities for replika creation, with a secondary concern its use as a small scout ship. (At least compared to the comically large vessels the Imperium piloted).

She hadn't fully understood why Vashtorr linked the two concepts together...until now.

"Could this warp drive be installed on the Empire ship outside?" Elster said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

The tech priest shifted. "...what?" she said, tilting her head to the side. "What are you blathering about?"

Elster, feeling slightly cruel, rolled her eyes dramatically. "Can you remove the systems that allow for warp travel from this ship, and put them in the Nomarch?" She enunciated every word.

Diodana blustered. "Pft...ghh...I...theoretically yes?"

"Good," Elster said, nodding. "Then that's what we'll do. Congratulations, you get to live after all."

"Ack! It...mgh...most certainly is NOT what 'we' will do!" Diodana said, raising her voice. "Out of the question!"

"Why not?"

"For...many reasons!" Diodana clenched her mechanical fists. "First, that's insanity! The logistics of transplanting a complex system of Warp transition from one ship to a different, inferior, incompatible ship would be enormous! It would be a daunting task, were we at a fully provisioned star port or Forge World! Let alone out here in the Oort Cloud, alone!"

"A logistical problem sounds like a solvable problem," Elster shrugged. "Besides, I can make more replikas, if manpower is the issue."

The tech priest was shaking with anger. "Grr...ignoring that brazen idiocy...that brings me to my second point: You are an abominable intelligence! It would be tech heresy of the highest order to aid you in pillaging the Omnissiah's holy work, just so you could escape to the stars!"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to fly you back to the core worlds and drop you off at the nearest bastion of the Imperium," Elster said, holding a free hand up. "I don't need to explain why that wouldn't be in my best interests. If I can't hop to another star system and drop you off where you won't cause me trouble for a while, then I might as well just kill you now."

"Wait, no!" Diodana said, holding her hands out. "Please, you can't just kill me!"

"Why not? You said it yourself, it would be tech heresy to help me. Why should I not take you at your word?"

The tech priest shrank. She looked at the floor. "...b-but if you kill me, how will you get your warp capability then?"

Elster shrugged. "Maybe I'll do it myself. I'm an engineer." She flashed a wry smile. "How hard can it be?"

"You WHAT?" Diodana shouted, almost jumping out of her skin. "You can't do that! This ship is built from machines far in advance of your civilization's tech level!" She gesticulated all around her. "Do you know the first thing about how any of this works?"

Again, Elster shrugged. "Eh, I'll muddle through."

"MUDDLE THR-"

The tech priest started to shake uncontrollable. She stared at the ground, apoplectic with rage and shock. Elster could hear her muttering wildly under her breath. "...I don't...you can't...muddle through..."

She clenched her fists and looked at Elster. Her glowing green eyes turned a shade of yellow, and brightened in intensity. "You idiot machine! Your blind, primitive grasp of science would destroy the Omnissiah's holy works! You have no idea how to placate the machine spirits! No grasp of dimensional mechanics! You'd spread the wreckage of your ship across half the galaxy, if I thought you wouldn't just irreparably damage the engine before you ever got that far! The tech heresy would be unforgivable!"

Elster blinked. Her expression as stoic as ever.

She tilted her head up slightly. "So you're saying it would be tech-heresy to help me, AND tech-heresy to leave me to my own devices with your technology? Am I grasping this correctly?"

The tech priest paused. "...I...well, yes, I mean..."

"So...which is it? Which would you rather do, given the choice?" Elster jabbed the laspistol at her lazily. "Do you prefer helping this abominable intelligence, or letting me do my own thing?"

The tech priest stared. Elster couldn't see the gestalt's expression. But the twitching of her mechanical digit implied an internal turmoil that rendered her barely in control of her own body, let alone capable of speech.

Elster leaned forward fractionally. "If it makes the decision easier," she said, "one of those options leaves you alive at the end of things. If you cooperate."

Diodana sank to her hands and knees. She stared at the metal floor, scratched by alien claws.

"...oh, Omnissiah..." she muttered, shaking her head. "Omnissiah, please...I pray to you...what do I do?"

"Well?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"I...need a moment..." Diodana said, not looking at the replika. "...I need to think..."

Elster remained quiet, holding the tech priest at gunpoint. She let the silence linger for minutes.

The replika was familiar with seemingly intractable dilemmas. Unfortunately for the tech priest, the Dark Artificer was in Elster's corner, not Diodana's. She allowed the tech priest ample time. After all, she pitied her the soul-wrenching choice.

After five minutes, the tech priest sat up. Her four photo-receptors panned over the machine dominating the room. Under her breath, she began muttering. "...X tons of weight...meters of cabling...standard power output for Eusan Empire reactor is..." Her fingers began to twitch.

Elster couldn't see the tech priest's face. But she knew a mind at work when she saw it. A mind, already resolved to action, bent now to the problem of implementation. Elster knew it well, because she so often displayed it back on the Penrose 512.

An unsolvable problem, turned into a problem that could be solved.

"...forgive me, Omnissiah, the sin I am about to commit," the tech priest muttered. She closed her mechanical hand. "...very well..."

Elster watched the heavily modified gestalt rise to her metal feet.

"I wish to establish, for the record, that I hate you," Diodana said.

"Noted." Elster nodded.

"On the provision that you and your...replika brethren do exactly as I say, as it pertains to matters technical," Diodana said, "I will perform this hereteknica. Only to mitigate the damage inept hands may do to the Machine God's work. And so I may dedicate the rest of my life to atoning for the sin I am about to commit, out of selfish desire to live." She looked at the replika. "Are these terms acceptable?"

Elster stroked her chin. "I think we can agree to that."

"So, jailer," the tech priest said, "what happens now?"

"Now, we return to the Nomarch," Elster said. She stepped aside. "We'll use my shuttle. We'll need to keep an eye on you, while I return to the work of producing more replikas. How many will we need?"

"If we're to complete the work in a timely fashion?" Diodana asked, taking the lead. "How many can you produce?"

"We'll see."

 

"Uh...welcome back?"

The Ara looked back and forth between Elster, and the red-robed cyborg she held hostage.

Diodana looked over her shoulder. "I confess to having minimal knowledge of your kind, jailer," she said. "Your functioning and your models."

"You never learned?" Elster said, motioning them forward. She passed a spare laspistol to Ara as she walked. Ara blanched, holding the weapon gingerly, afraid to even touch the trigger.

"I've worked on nothing, these last few solar years, save the maintenance of the Joys of Duty," Diodana said. "And the compliance action against the Eusan polities were completed very quickly, by the standards of the Crusade. The extermination of your kind proceeded so quickly, there was little time to study before the matter of replikas became a moot point. Or, as it were, an almost moot point."

"True." Elster said, nodding. "To your left."

The tech priest examined the gore-stained walls as they walked. "I see the Xenos made quite a mess," she said. "Or was this you?"

"You should have seen it with all the bodies. That's mostly what we were doing for the last few cycles, until you called." Elster led the three through winding corridors. "Incinerating gestalts. Trying to salvage replika chassis."

"This one," Diodana said, pointing to Ara. "What model is it?"

"This is ARAR-N0601," Elster said. She turned to Ara and spoke in the Eusan tongue. "Say hello, 01. This is our hostage, Diodana."

"G-guten Tag, Diodana..." Ara said, leaning her head forward. She still carried the laspistol like a dead rat, held away from her in two fingers. "Elster, what are we doing?"

"Diodana is going to help us refurbish the Nomarch with a new warp drive," Elster said. She switched to Imperial. "Ara says 'Good Day'. I told her you would be helping us."

"Hphm. 'Helping'. Yes." The tech priest sighed. "I should expect you'll be helping me a great deal. Does the ARAR unit understand maintenance?"

"It's what they were designed for, yes." Elster said. "Ara knows tools, machines, and electronics like the back of her hand."

"Well, at least there's one troublesome problem sorted," Diodana said. "If she is a competent enough mechanic, the particulars can be sorted out. I'm loath to do it, but initiate-level maintenance rituals can be taught. Though the matter of the language barrier is vexing."

"I think I may be able to correct that on subsequent replikas going forward," Elster said.

"Very good. How many replikas do you have at your disposal?"

Elster paused, considering the operational security of admitting just how short staffed they were. She sighed. "Including myself? Two."

Diodana stopped dead in her tracks.

She turned around. "...you have to be joking. You expect to perform a major ship overhaul, and including myself, our team is Three?"

Elster shrugged. "Like I said, we've been very busy. So much to do, so little time to do it."

Diodana sighed, turning back to continue walking. "Story of my life."

 

"Why is the unit full of meat!?"

Elster pulled a decaying lung from the chest cavity, clutching it in her gloved hand. "Because replikas aren't wholly mechanical," she said, tossing the organ into the plastic bucket next to the table. "We're biomechanical. Emphasis on the 'bio'." She raised an eyebrow. "Or did the fact we have faces confuse you?'

Diodana recoiled from the grisly sight on the table before her. "I assumed your faces were synthetic skin," the tech priest said. "Are they not?"

"Nope," Elster said, reaching her scalpel back inside. "It's real grafted skin, with living cells and everything."

Diodana looked sideways, eyeing the Ara leaning against a worktable, nervously holding a laspistol. The tech priest looked back. "So you have facial tissue and internal organs. Are these harvested from dead humans?"

"Nope," Elster said, slicing through tissue and veins. "It's all vat-grown. Harvesting gestalt organs would make the creation process less efficient, for multiple reasons."

"Why even have them at all, though? What purpose does flesh serve a machine?"

Elster pointedly voiced no observations about the tech priest, whose religious order seemed intent on removing as much flesh from their own bodies, yet balked at wholly mechanical lifeforms. "Well first," she said, raising the scalpel and pointing towards her head, "it's to keep our brains alive. The replika brain is also biomechanical. Part mechanical, part meat."

Diodana tilted her head at this. She stared at Elster. "Your brain is a wetware cogitator?" She looked down at the dead replika on the table, studying her already stripped face plate. "...I suppose there's some merit in that, if your transistor computing technology was insufficient for such processing."

"The second reason for the meat is persona stabilization," Elster continued, dropping another lump of flesh into the bucket.

"What does that mean?"

Elster paused, looking up at the ceiling pensively. "That's...another discussion entirely, really. I can explain better when I'm finished here, and we can start on laying the neural pattern."

"Hmm..." Diodana's respirator hummed along with her.

"Would you like to help, since you're here?" Elster asked, gesturing to the gaping chest cavity.

"Certainly not!" said the tech priest, waving mechanical hands. "It's disgusting. Repulsive!"

"Fair," Elster said, shrugging. "If meat's not to your liking, you could machine a new face plate for her." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, to a set of machining tools. A spare face plate already sat on the table, awaiting modification.

"That I can do," Diodana said, nodding. She ambled over to the workstation, Ara following behind to keep the gestalt in range.

"The specs for the modified plate should already be loaded on the screen," Elster said, not looking up from her work.

Diodana tapped the keyboard rapidly. She viewed the primitive 3D render of the ARAR face plate. Using the mouse, she rotated the image. "A trivial enough task." She looked over her shoulder. "Why does the plate need to be modified in this manner? The differences seem wholly cosmetic."

"Again, persona stabilization," Elster said, reaching deep in to pull out a rotting length of intestine. "The new unit will be...'expecting' a certain face shape. The neural patterns we're using all come from the Eusan Nation, which are different from these Eusan Empire chassis. I want to avoid undue stress."

The tech priest tapped the edge of her photo-receptors, quizzically. "I do comprehend. Seems like a waste of time. But I suppose the 'cleaning' is the workflow bottleneck here. I'd rather be working than not working." With this, she loaded the face plate and activated the machines.

 

"...do I really look like this?"

Ara clutched Ara's face, gazing at her closed eyes. Fingers stroked newly laid cheeks, feeling the pores and micro blemishes.

"Mmhmm," Elster said, tapping on the terminal. "Except for the hair, she's more or less a perfect copy of you, 01."

Ara stroked the unfinished replika's auburn hair. Elster allowed 01 to choose the color from the Nomarch's store of spare parts. A notably different hue seemed like a good idea to her, so they could be told apart. Plus, Ara simply liked the color. She kind of wished she could have chosen it for herself.

"...aaaand done," Elster said, tapping the last key. The screen before her began to race with text. She switched to Imperial. "The Imperial Terran language module is now available to be loaded, along with the neural pattern. We can begin persona instantiation."

"Very good," Diodana said, not looking away from her tools. She adjusted the cable on her arm, then flexed the hand. Satisfied, she put the tools down and rose to metal feet. "What happens now?" she said, walking over.

"Close the pod, would you, 01?" the older replika said to the younger, in Eusan. Elster fiddled with the wire-festooned helmet that connected to the calibration pod. She turned to Diodana and switched languages again. "The way this works will involve me putting this on, and overlaying the gestalt neural pattern from the mainframe to the ARAR unit's organic brain."

"A gestalt neural pattern?" Diodana said, gesturing at the pod in surprise. "You mean that of a flesh and blood human? I thought this was a programmed neural construct."

Elster shook her head. "No, all replika minds are based on a deceased gestalt consciousness. In the case of the Eusan Nation, typically skilled individuals whose loyalty to the Nation was judged unquestionable."

"So you are grafting a preserved human intelligence onto this machine unit!?" the tech priest said, raising her voice in alarm.

"That's right."

"I...that is..." Diodana raised a metal finger, then stopped. She looked down at the floor. "...does this mean you two remember lives as human beings?"

Elster narrowed her eyes and looked at Ara, who just stared nonplussed, uncomprehending of the conversation around her. The older replika said, "Eh...she doesn't. I do."

"You do!?" Diodana said, four glowing photo-receptors locked on Elster.

"Some of it, yes," Elster said. She sighed. "We're not supposed to, according to Nation and, as far as I know, Empire standards. The process of creating a replika always involves the use of bioresonant adepts to both install the neural pattern, and suppress personal gestalt memories. Only the skills and languages our gestalts knew in life are accessible. At least, that's the intent."

Diodana's mechanical hand stroked her breathing apparatus thoughtfully. "Yes...yes, that is sensible. It's not unlike a servitor, in that regard..."

Elster narrowed her eyes at the tech priest when she wasn't looking. Yeah, I don't feel comfortable being compared to your lobotomized slaves, she thought. She kept this to herself.

"Personal memories would only impede a replika's functions," Diodana said. "To remove them would be advantageous for smooth operations." She nodded. "...but then, you have access to your human memories. Why?"

"As I said, gestalt memories are suppressed, not erased," Elster said. Her finger tapped the helmet. "No matter how thorough the conditioning, they remain there, below the surface. These memories can surface for any number of reasons. From encountering certain stimuli, to simple stress. The Nation filed this under the broad brush of what it euphemistically called 'Persona Degradation'. However, the Nation also included any deviance from the narrow behavior patterns it expected or desired from a particular unit under this umbrella. A replika discovering a new hobby, having a nervous breakdown, forming interpersonal relationships, developing prescribed political opinions, or simply refusing to be worked to death were all 'Persona Degradation' to the Nation. A situation that, if it compromised a replika's efficiency to the point they were even 'merely' as productive as a gestalt worker, warranted decommissioning."

"Sensible," Diodana nodded, the lights in her photo-receptors going out, in an approximation of her eyes being closed. When the lights came on, the tech priest looked at Elster and paused. "...I presume you found such efficiency objectionable?"

"I'm generally against people being put to death for not working hard enough, yes," Elster said, narrowing her eyes again where the tech priest could see them. "Let's just say I'm glad the Nation is dead. And for the record, while you give the orders in regards to the technology, I have final say in how my people get treated."

"Hrmm..." Diodana folded her arms. She sighed. "...very well. Though compromises to efficiency will only lengthen the time table."

"Noted." Elster drummed her fingers on the helmet. "Anyway, the implantation process will involve me wearing this. It will boost my latent bioresonance enough to interact with the new brain."

"Bioresonance," Diodana said. "I have heard the use of that terminology, in regards to Psykers. The technology is psychic in nature?"

"Yes. A lot of the higher forms of Eusan technology, including replika creation, artificial gravity, and klimmaforming, rely on the application of what you call 'Psychic power'. It would have been impossible for us otherwise, I think."

"Fascinating," Diodana said, nodding. "And disappointing. But it seems consistent with your civilization's tech level."

"I'll be unresponsive for several minutes, as I prep the brain." Elster turned to Ara, shifting languages. "01, I'm going into a trance while I implant the neural pattern. Continue to keep an eye on her, will you?"

Ara jumped to attention. "Y-yes, okay. Uh, how long will you be under?"

"Several minutes," Elster said. She raised the helmet. "It shouldn't be more than an hour. I know better what I'm doing now. Wish me luck."

With that, Elster placed the helmet on her head, flipped a switch, and closed her eyes.

 

"I think...I have reassessed the situation."

Elster rubbed her aching head. At least it didn't hurt as much as last time. It still felt like her brain got a workout.

She looked sideways. "Ngh. How so?"

Diodana had her arms crossed, finger tapping her elbow. The tech priest stared at the calibration pod as it tipped into standing position. "Unless you are pulling off some elaborate deception, which I cannot rule out but nonetheless doubt...I think the Mechanicum representatives within the Compliance Fleet made an error."

"How so?" Elster said, rubbing her temples.

"You are, perhaps, NOT Abominable Intelligence after all."

"Really?" Elster looked over. The corners of her mouth turned up. "There's a complement."

"Do not misunderstand, LSTR Five One Two," Diodana said. "You are still abominable. Distorted copies of real humans, using cloned human organs and brains. You still constitute a form of debased tech-heresy."

"Oh." Elster looked forward again, dropping her smile.

The two watched as the calibration pod door swung up, releasing gouts of steam. They saw the trembling form of a replika inside, bleary-eyed and confused.

"...that said," Diodana whispered. "I will require further study of you replikas before I can render judgment. Initial thoughts, however, tell me the Imperium's eradication of your kind may have been...premature."

"..." Elster eyed the new replika as she took a first cautious step from the pod. "...you think the Mechanicum ought to have let us live?" she whispered.

Ara 01 held out her hands, catching the new unit as she stumbled forward on shaky hooves. "Easy, easy!" she said, the otherwise unexpressive replika putting on a smile. "It's okay. I've got you." She supported her junior as the latter stood like a newborn doe.

"...potential Replika utility as tools in the Imperium's industrial machine," whispered the tech priest, "in retrospect, merited more analysis than it received. If nothing else, valuable resources were and are allocated to extermination, that might otherwise have been put to productive use elsewhere. Much as replikas may have been allocated to new purposes." She paused, then added quickly, "In the interests of avoiding further tech-heresy, I will say no more on the matter at present."

Elster nodded, then rose to her hooves. "I'll accept that apology," she whispered.

"It was not an apology!" Diodana whispered more loudly.

Elster winced, as oxidizing fluid rushed to her aching brain. She stepped forward. "Guten Morgan," she said to the new replika.

"...and Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!" Ara 01 said, patting her junior on the shoulder.

"...b-birthday?" the newborn said, blinking. She looked down at her hand, then brushed it through her hair. She pulled a lock in front of her face to look at it. Marveling at the rich red-brown color.

"How are you feeling? Is there any pain?" Elster asked.

"Eh? Uh...no, I'm fine..."

Elster clasped her hands behind her back. "Forgive me," she said, "can you state your designation? That is, your name?"

The replika's eyes lit up. "My name is...I am...ARAR-N06...02?"

"Good," Elster nodded. "Implantation was successful." She pointed to herself. "I am LSTR-512. Call me Elster."

"Elster..." Ara 02 said, nodding.

"02, this is ARAR-N0601. Say hello, 01."

"H-hello!" Ara 01 said, squeezing the newborn's hand. "I...I think this makes us sisters?"

"Oh!" said Ara 02, returning the squeeze after a moment. "H-hello. I...don't know if I've ever had...a sister...?" She blinked. "Where...am I...?"

"Yes, yes, this is all very well."

Diodana rose to her mechanical feet and walked forward. "ARAR-N0602," she said, snapping metal fingers. "Do you comprehend my words?"

Ara 02 flinched, eyes going wide as she beheld the red-robed figure. Whereas the other replikas at least had human faces to go with their cybernetic bodies, this new figure showed not even a sliver of flesh. Only the approximation of the human form, in metal wires, respirator grills, and glowing lenses. "Eh? Eh?"

"I repeat," the tech priest said, snapping again, "Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes!" Ara 02 said, her mind switching automatically to Imperial Terran. "W-who are you?"

"Easy, easy," Elster said, raising her hands plaintively. "You're safe here, 02. She's not going to hurt you."

"That's a woman!?" Ara 02 blurted out.

When the three figures around her fell silent, Ara 02's face blushed, practically glowing with the heat of embarrassment.

"...I will have you know that yes, I am a woman," Diodana said. "I am Tech Priest Diodana, of the Martian Mechanicum. Adept of holy science, and servant of the Omnissiah."

Ara 02 blinked. "...eh?"

Elster leaned over. "Diodana is our prisoner, 02."

"Eh!?" Ara 02 exclaimed, looking back and forth between them. "P-prisoner?"

"Under duress, yes," Diodana said. "To effect my eventual freedom, though I'm loath to do so, I have agreed to dismantle parts of my original, marooned vessel, in order to render this one capable of interstellar travel."

"...oh..." The newborn seemed no less confused.

"To that end, you, ARAR-N0602, will do everything I say on matters involving this Work." She pointed at the replika. "Understood?"

"So long as it doesn't endanger or sabotage the ship," Elster interjected. "You understand mechanics. I'm relying on you, 02, to use your best judgment." She shifted to Eusan. "You girls tell me if she tries anything suspicious, or makes you do something that's obviously detrimental. Got it?"

The two Aras nodded to Elster, turning wary eyes at the tech priest.

"Speaking of your primitive tongue," Diodana said. "ARAR-N0601 was not granted the correct language model to understand me. ARAR-N0602, your additional responsibility will be to translate my instructions to ARAR-N0601. And as I instruct you in the greater lexicon of Tech cant, so will you teach her, until such time as you have both reached operational efficiency. Understood?"

Ara 02 blinked. Seeing the tech priest waiting, unmoving and not breaking eye contact, the Ara flinched. "Ah! Yes! I understand!"

"Excellent." Diodana turned to Elster. "The presence of two mechanical aids has doubled our output. Assuming at least one replika unit on this ship is devoted to guarding my person, of course."

"That's right," Elster said, nodding.

"How many more ARAR units can you produce?"

"At the moment, one." Elster rubbed her face, trying to soothe the ache in her brain. "I grew five replika brains on the flight out here. Three brains fit for ARAR, one EULR, and one STAR. The brains must carry the DNA of the original gestalts they're based on."

"Elaborate, if you please, about these other models," Diodana said. "The STAR and EULR models."

"Eules are more social-focused units," Elster said. "The Nation used them in a variety of interpersonal or clerical capacities. Assistants, teachers, entertainers, copyists, cooks."

"Manual labor?"

"Decidedly not, except perhaps house-keeping or other janitorial work. They're not good for hauling. They're better at an office than a construction site or machine shop."

The tech priest sighed. "At least it's an extra set of hands. The STAR unit?"

"Stars were used in combat actions, and as Protektor officers," Elster said. "That is to say, law enforcement and riot suppression. They're disciplined, follow orders, fight well enough, and are physically stronger. Originally, I intended her for helping me carry heavy loads, repel boarders, and act as a lieutenant."

And, Elster thought, to act as backup when I'm out reaping souls. But she doesn't need to know that.

"I suppose the STAR unit will serve as my permanent guard, then?"

"Well, I'm an engineer," Elster shrugged. "I'd like my attention freed to actually work."

"Fair enough." The tech priest sighed. "How long will it take to grow more replika brains?"

"Months. Though I'll be able to prepare many more now, with the facilities on board."

Diodana nodded. She looked over to see the two Aras off to the side, the newborn leaning against a worktable for support. They breathlessly conversed in Eusan among themselves. "...I will require as many more ARARs as the ship's resources can support. I presume your organic components require sustenance?"

"Yes." Elster nodded. "We need less than gestalts, though."

"Ah, the joys of having minimal flesh. If only more of the Imperium embraced it. As it is written, 'There is no strength in flesh, only weakness'." Diodana clasped her hands behind her back. "More rations may be taken from the Joys of Duty's storerooms. It still has more than ample supplies to last hundreds of full-organic crewmen several months. Calories should not be a concern."

A rumble exuded from the tech priest's midsection.

"Damn," she said. "Even with an artificial stomach, my physiological responses continue to betray me. I presume the Nomarch has food stores of its own?"

"Yes. So long as you don't require any special nutrients, there's enough food here." Elster rubbed her eyes. "There's even a hydroponics bay, if you wanted something fresh."

"A troublesome prospect, consuming unprocessed food," Diodana said, sighing. "...yet, I cannot deny I've more than earned the indulgence."

"Tell the Aras," Elster said. "01 can show you there. Or to the kitchens...or the lavatories, as needed."

The tech priest said nothing. She looked away.

"Me?" Elster said, rubbing her aching eyes. "I'm going to bed." She raised her voice in Eusan. "Aras! I'm turning in! Watch her until I come to relieve you!"

The ARAR units nodded.

"...that also sounds appealing to me." Diodana nodded, not looking at the replika. "I don't recall how long ago I permitted myself sleep."

Elster yawned, walking towards the workshop door. "Goodnight, tech priest."

"Restful slumber...jailer."

Chapter 14: Getting Back into the Swing of Things

Knock, knock.

"Oh! Come in!"

The door to the bathroom opened. The room was filled with steam, and with the sound of the running showerhead. The mirror fogged.

"Good morning, Ariane," Elster said, through the translucent glass shower door.

"Morning!" Ariane said, waving her hand. She cracked the sliding door open and poked her face out. "Did my Ellie want a smooch?"

The replika's hooves navigated the small floor space, complicated by discarded clothing. Elster leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lover's forehead. "Yes," she said finally. "May I offer another?"

"Mmhmm!" Ariane said. She puckered her lips, which Elster generously kissed. When they parted, the gestalt said, "I'd invite you inside, but...you know..." She shut her eyes and scratched her cheek.

Much as Ariane fantasized about sharing the shower with Elster, it was simply too small for two people to stand comfortably. Let alone do anything. Moreover, the shower ran on a timer before it automatically shut off. A concession to not tax the water filters. Ariane barely had time to complete her own ablutions, a problem to which she was accustomed.

Plus, whenever she considered inviting Elster in, a sadness fell over Ariane she couldn't identify..

"It's okay," Elster said. "I'll be outside." She retreated, nearly banging her head on the top of the doorway as she went.

"I'll just be a minute!" Ariane said, shutting the shower door. She applied more lather, working it in everywhere as quickly as she could.

Years of the Penrose 512 shower made Ariane hyper efficient. She finished cleaning her body and hair with a minute to spare. She spent this minute with eyes shut, luxuriating in the warm water pelting her skin. Letting herself zone out.

When the water automatically shut off, Ariane sighed. She pressed her forehead against the shower wall. Not for the first time, she wondered if Elster couldn't disable the timer. Or at least increase the time, so she could spoil herself once in a while.

What was the point of being so far away from the Nation (and her mother), if she couldn't finally indulge in a long shower? It was her water, dammit. (Well, her and Elster's).

As promised, Elster was waiting for Ariane when she stepped out of the bathroom.

"Enjoy yourself?" Elster said, standing up from her stool.

"Not enough," Ariane said sadly, rubbing her head with a towel. She rested the towel on the back of her neck. She already had a clean jumpsuit on, sans jacket. Her sleeveless top showed off her black arm tattoo, which was damp from humid shower sweat. "Come here."

The two held each other's hands and kissed. When their lips part, Ariane leaned forward and nuzzled her face in Elster's neck. The replika placed a hand on the gestalt's back.

"...heh heh...Ellie..." she giggled, enjoying the replika's dry warmth. Then she sniffed, and furrowed her brow.

Ariane looked up. "...Ellie..."

"Hmm?" Elster said, looking down. "What's the matter?"

The gestalt pouted, staring into Elster's eyes. "...you smell..."

"Uh..." Elster blinked.

"When was the last time you had a shower?" Ariane said. She bent down and sniffed her lover's chest.

"...I don't...uh..." Elster scratched her head. "...it's not like I need it for health reasons. Most of my skin is synthetic. All I need to wash is my face, hands, hair, and...uh...down there..."

"Yeah, but you still pick up scent," Ariane said, frowning. She sniffed the replika again. "You smell like sweat, BO...sex..."

"And whose fault is that?" Elster said, raising an eyebrow. "I smell like you."

"...granted," Ariane said, sheepishly. Her face gained a little color. She pointed a finger in Elster's face. "But! You also smell like oil and junk! All that rooting around in the ship's innards all day! And THAT, I'd rather not smell when we're in bed!"

"Alright, alright," Elster said, plaintively presenting her hands. "I'll shower next...just obviously I can't do it now."

Ariane blinked.

Right, she thought, the timer again.

The same system that stopped showers from going too long, also stopped the shower from being used too often. To give the water filters time to do their work. The shower wouldn't be operational again for another six hours.

Ariane groaned, burying her face in Elster's smelly chest.

"Sorry!" Elster said, petting the gestalt's head. "I mean, I was going to do a bunch of maintenance today anyway. So it wouldn't make sense to bathe now."

Ariane sighed into the replika's chest. "Fine," she said, the sound muffled.

"Would you like to come and keep me company?" Elster asked, stroking her lover's white hair. "You could bring your sketchbook. How's that sound?"

The gestalt unburied her face, looking up into the resplika's eyes. "...okay. I'd like that."

 

"Last job for today, the reactor."

Elster and Ariane ascended the ladder to the upper gallery. Ariane took longer, needing to tuck her sketchpad and charcoal box under her arm.

She took so long, Elster was a room ahead of her.

The replika stood in the middle of the reactor room, thumb pressed pensively to her lips. She scanned the room, seeming confused. Then she shook her head. "Sorry, Ariane, I don't know what...came..." She looked over her shoulder.

Ariane stood at door, feet firmly planted before the threshold. She wrung her hands, looking around nervously.

"...Ari?" Elster said. "You okay?"

"Eh?" Ariane said, flinching. "Uh, yeah..."

"Are you coming in?"

Ariane chewed her thumbnail. "Is it alright for me to come in?"

Elster blinked. "...why wouldn't it be?"

The gestalt looked at the ground. "Didn't you tell me not to go in the reactor room?"

"...did I?" Elster looked over her shoulder, staring at the myriad pipes.

A sinking feeling formed in her chest. A mote of panic that made her heart skip a beat.

"Ellie?"

As soon as it came, it passed. Elster scrutinized the room, trying to pinpoint where the feeling came from. "I don't...think I told you that." She scratched her face. "When did I say that?"

Ariane held her sketchpad close to her chest. "...I don't..."

Elster shook her head and smiled. "Maybe I was doing some work in here and needed some clear space." Or she felt there was some kind of potential hazard to routine maintenance, and told Ariane to steer clear just in case? If it was, Elster detected no radiation. "It's probably fine to come in now."

Ariane looked down at her feet, then stepped across the threshold. "...I guess I must be imagining things," she said, smiling nervously.

"Take a seat over there, and I'll get started," Elster said, pointing to a corner. She pulled tools from her belt and set to work.

Ariane got as comfy as the cold metal floor allowed. She was thankful she put on her jacket, as a chill ran up her butt. Sitting cross-legged, she flipped her sketchbook to a new page. Charcoal poised in her hand, she looked up to observe.

In a static environment like the Penrose, where even the skyline beyond their windows was fixed into an eternal starscape, the only consistent source of dynamism Ariane had was Elster. The replika's body was threaded with artificial muscles, chiseled and perfectly formed. Strong limbs, back muscles, thighs...glutes...

Ariane pinched her blushing face, forcing herself back on task. Her charcoal flowed across the paper, rendering shapes. Following lines of motion. When Elster was at rest, modeling for Ariane, the gestalt could take her time rendering every captivating detail.

But she observed Elster in motion when she wanted to challenge herself. To break herself from agonizing over detail, and focus on rapidly capturing the essentials of pose and movement. The replika was so efficient at her job, Ariane simply didn't have time for anything else.

It was especially hard today. All throughout their rotation around the ship, Ariane found her hand rusty. Her movements sluggish, her eye off the ball. At first she just blamed Elster for being so damn gorgeous. How could Ariane not be distracted? As the day wore on, though, she realized it must have been lack of practice.

When was the last time they'd done this?

Ariane bit her lip. She shook her head. We've been here too long, she thought. The cycles are starting to run together. Time doesn't feel real anymore.

The sketching day had been good for her, though. By the time Elster stood up, putting her tools away in her belt, the rust on Ariane's sketching skills were knocked off. She was sketching with speed again.

She finished rendering Elster's stretches when the replika spoke.

"That's everything, I think," Elster said, looking over her shoulder.

Ariane was halfway through blocking out the replika's smoldering expression when she jumped to attention. "Oh! Okay." She uncrossed her legs. Her feet weren't even asleep. "That was quick."

"Most everything is in perfect working order," Elster nodded. "Filters don't need replacing for...a long while..." She looked away, pensive. Then she snapped back to attention. "Did you get any good angles?"

"Every angle of you is good, Ellie," Ariane said, standing up. She wiggled her eyebrows.

The two started laughing.

"Hoo...do you want to get something to eat?" Elster said, hooking a thumb towards the door. "I think I'm going to take that shower."

"Has it been six hours?" Ariane said, stroking her chin. "Time is so difficult here." She shrugged. "Well, if not, you can always join me for food until the water comes back on."

"Sounds good."

They walked out, sharing a brief kiss on the way.

---

"There you two are."

Daisy's eyes shot up. "Ah! Teacher!" She rose from a squatting position, placing handful of small yellow tomatoes in Poppy's waiting basket. "Guten Morgen...I mean 'Good Morning'!" She corrected herself.

Diodana shuffled forward, four photo-receptors eyeing the floor warily. She only needed to accidentally mash a rotten pear into her foot servos once to remain ever-vigilant when in Hydroponics thereafter. Even though the last of the organic waste found its way into the impromptu compost heap weeks ago. Tulip followed after her, laspistol stowed in the holster attached to her tool belt.

"ARAR-N0601," she said, looking at Daisy. She turned to Poppy. "ARAR-N0603. Have you been here the whole morning?"

Daisy nodded. "Sorry, teacher," she said. "We needed to...what's the word?"

"Harvest," said Poppy, leaning towards her eldest sister. She brushed a lock of dark brown hair from her face.

"Yes! Harvest!" Daisy smiled nervously. "Many fruits and ve-gi-tables," she enunciated slowly, "needed picking."

"I suppose it cannot be helped," Diodana sighed. "You'll be happy to know I finished the modifications to Nomarch Shuttle 02."

"Sorry, teacher," Poppy said, hunching down. "We should have been there to finish it for you." Her fingers gripped the fruit basket close to her chest.

"The only worthy apology is renewed productivity," Diodana said, raising a mechanical finger sagely. "Go store the produce in its proper place, then meet me at the shuttle bay. LSTR-512 has already given us leave to begin orbital debris scavenging."

Daisy nodded to Poppy, who ran off to attend to the basket. The eldest Ara turned back to the tech priest. "Is it really safe to be going out in the...no air...?"

"Vacuum," Tulip interjected.

"Va-cuum, yes," Daisy said, nodding. "Would it not be easier to take more scrap from inside the Joys of Duty? While it is still...sealed...?"

"Normally yes, that is the low-hanging fruit," Diodana said. She looked around her. "Pardon the pun. But every moment valuable materials remain exposed to the void, carries the possibility of degradation by solar rays or micro-meteors."

Daisy tilted her head. "Mi-cro...meat-eaters?"

"Meteors," Tulip said. She held up two fingers, their tips almost touching. "Tiny space rocks."

"Oh!" Daisy said, nodding.

"Correct," Diodana said. She saw Poppy returning from across the hydroponics bay, and turned around. "The scrap will only become more..." She shifted her explanation midstream. "They will only become worse for our needs. Come along."

"Yes teacher!" the Aras said in unison, falling in behind.

Daisy rubbed her arm. "...is Elster going to be around for this?"

"She cannot attend the launch," Diodana said. "She is busy activating the new unit..."

 

"Guten Morgen, and Alles Gute zum Geburtstag."

The new replika took a step forward, and promptly fell on her face.

"Ah!" Elster cried, running over. "Are you okay?"

The newborn covered her face with her hand. At first Elster thought she was hurt. But the replika tried to wave her off with her other arm. And what Elster originally thought might be blood, was simply the replika's face gone beet red.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, looking away sharply. When Elster took the replika's hand, she sheepishly gripped it and allowed herself to be pulled up. She staggered, struggling to keep her hooves under her. When she finally found her balance - assisted by the older replika - she peeked out from behind her fingers. "...dammit..."

"It's okay," Elster said, reaching up to pat the tall newborn on the shoulder. "The transition to hooves throws everyone off."

The replika blinked, staring at her legs. She looked down at Elster. "...where...who am...who are you?" she finally settled on. The red marks on either side of her eyes framed her confusion.

"I am LSTR-512," Elster said. "Call me Elster. I'm..." She considered for a moment, then stood up straight. "I'm your commanding officer."

"Ah! Ma'am!" the replika said, throwing as perfect a salute as her shaky standing would permit.

"A few questions, if you wouldn't mind," Elster said, returning the salute and letting it drop. She waited until the newborn dropped her own salute before continuing. "State your designation."

The replika paused a moment, then said, "STAR-N0601, reporting for duty, ma'am!" She saluted again.

"At ease, soldier," Elster said, patting the Star on the arm. "If you want to sit down, you may. Do whatever makes you comfortable."

Star looked around, and tottered uneasily to a nearby stool. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, taking a seat. "I'm sorry, I'm...all out of sorts."

"Don't worry about it," Elster said. She clasped her hands behind her back. "How are you feeling? Any pain? Any discomfort?"

"...not that I'm aware of, ma'am," Star said. She rubbed her nose, and winced.

"Except your nose, obviously," Elster said.

"It's nothing!" Star said, waving it off. "It won't be a problem."

Elster leaned forward and stared into Star's eyes. The newborn flinched.

"01, if you're having medical issues," Elster said, "it's never inappropriate to let me or someone else know. Your health is important, if for no other reason than because it affects everyone else. If you're hurting, you can say. It doesn't make you weak or a burden."

Star blinked. She remained speechless for a span of several seconds. Finally, she mumbled, "I-I'm fine, thank you, ma'am." She bowed her head.

"No pain in your chest? Your head? You extremities?"

"...just a sore nose, ma'am," Star said, shaking her head.

"Good." Elster nodded. "Don't hesitate to come to me if you have problems." She paced the floor, thinking. "...I'm afraid whatever you might have expected when you woke up, if you expected anything at all, things are...more complicated."

She stopped, then walked to the newborn. Elster extended a hand. "Are you okay to walk? Because there's a lot to talk about, and getting you used to moving around would help a lot."

Star nodded, taking her superior's hand.

 

"...so there's nothing of our Nation left?"

"The gestalts are still around," Elster said. She walked slowly down the corridors of the Nomarch, allowing the taller replika to steady herself by resting her hands on Elster's shoulders. "They've been enslaved to the Imperial war machine, but they live. Replikas, like you and I, are on the verge of extinction." She turned her head, to look over her shoulder. "The Eusan Nation, as a state, is nonexistent."

"No command structure at all?" Star said, looking down at Elster. She frowned.

"None," Elster said, looking forward. And thank fuck, she thought, privately. "Anyone who survived the political, or literal, purges either is in hiding or was absorbed into the occupation government, like much of the organizational apparatus. And only if they were a gestalt. Like us, any replikas out there are just trying to survive."

Star said nothing. She allowed herself to be walked forward.

Elster led them through a bulkhead door, entering an observation lounge. Coffee tables and padded seats and couches filled the room. The far wall was dominated by a window, made of triple layers of reinforced glass. The top of the window had a set of emergency blast doors, in the event the seal was compromised.

The newborn's eyes widened. She cautiously left Elster and staggered to the window. Her hands reached down to steady herself on the backs of chairs.

"...woah..." Star said, pressing her hands against the glass.

She stared out into an infinite sea of stars.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Elster said, joining the newborn at the window. She clasped her hands behind her back. Stared out into the void. "Even after all these years, I never get tired of seeing them."

I wish Ariane was here to see this, Elster thought. She'd appreciate a new view.

Star jumped, as an oblong object flew up and to the right before them. The shuttle's front was modified with two sets of large metal arms.

"What was that?" Star said, head craning up. Her eyes widened further. "Woah!"

Arching above them in the distance was massive, bifurcated frigate. The shuttle vented gas to turn, as it flew into the midst of the wreck. The tiny craft seemed impossibly small by comparison.

"That's the Joys of Duty," Elster said, pointing. "An Imperial frigate. When I arrived, it was already like that. I just thought I'd be taking control of the Nomarch. Turns out, the project kind of ballooned...after I killed the alien."

"Alien!?" Star said, looking back and forth between Elster and the frigate.

"Didn't I mention there was an alien?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

Star shook her head.

"Well, that's a whole story..."

 

"...and that's why I'd rather have a combat-capable replika to watch my back."

Star nodded, hand sliding across the corridor wall as they walked. Still a bit shaky, the newborn was getting the hang of her new hooves. "I can do that."

"Good," Elster said. She stopped in front of a sliding door. "Here we are."

She tapped a panel, and the door slid open. Elster gestured with a wave of her hand towards the threshold.

Star placed a hand on the top of the door and stooped under it. Going inside, she looked around. Her jaw dropped.

"Welcome to the STAR dorm room," Elster said, following behind.

The room had four sets of bunk beds, with end tables and storage compartments for each bed. The tables were loaded with random personal items and lamps. The floor had a number of discarded clothing items. One patch of carpet was cut away, a ruddy brown stain left on the metal floor underneath.

"Sorry about the mess," Elster said, scratching her face. "These last few months have been super busy."

"It's okay," Star said, walking over to lean on the top of a bunk. Her eyes panned across the room. "I can tidy up." She looked over to Elster. "Am I alone in here?"

"For now," Elster nodded. "I found the room with the longest bunks, made for models of your size. Hopefully, they'll fit you well enough. Eventually, I plan to create more STAR units, once their brains finish growing. Unfortunately, you'll then need to share. But for now, you have the run of the place. Pick any bed you want." She walked to a bunk and slid open a storage drawer. "There's a bunch of clothes and...stuff from the previous crew."

Star opened a drawer, her hand rooting around in a bundle of shirts and trousers. "What do I do with them?"

"Whatever you like," Elster shrugged. "Wear them, burn them, use them as rags. Again, this seemed to be the 'big replika room', so they might be able to fit you. If not, maybe one of the other replikas might want it. Or you could save them for the other Stars, when they come around."

Star looked back and forth around the room, trying to decide on a bunk.

Elster smacked her fist into the palm of her other hand. "Oh. Right." She wandered over to a closet set in the corner. "I almost forgot."

Star's eyes lit up when Elster displayed what she removed.

"Is that a...?" she said, staggering over.

"It is." Elster raised the pump-action shotgun. "Since the Nation fell apart, I've slowly amassed a small collection of surplus weapons. Some Eusan, some Imperium make." She held the firearm out. "Here."

Star looked back and forth from the gun to Elster, then took the item. She pointed it towards the wall as her hands instinctively sought the proper positions. Rested her finger OFF the trigger, for safety. The replika turned the weapon around in her grip, eyeing it from every angle almost lasciviously.

She racked the pump action, hearing it click. She looked into the ejector port. She aimed, then dry fired at the wall. No result, of course, but she smiled. "...she's a beauty," Star said.

"Glad you like her," Elster said, nodding. "Because she's yours."

"Really?" Star said, looking at her superior dumbfounded. "I can keep her?"

"Your duties will involve, among other things, defense of me, your fellow replikas, and this ship. As well as accompanying me on missions when we eventually get somewhere that isn't an asteroid field." Elster patted the Star on her arm. "I also know Stars love their weapons."

"I'm honored, ma'am," Star said, saluting.

"Obviously, for safety reasons, we can't have you loading live ammunition on the ship," Elster said. She reached back to the closet and pulled out a box of shells. The box, once adorned with Eusan Nation packaging information, had masking tape stuck all over it. "Salt Shot" was scribbled on them repeatedly in black marker. "We can't have a discharge punching a hole in the hull and venting our atmosphere into space. Or damaging any vital internal systems. So for now, unless you really need it, load her with these rock salt shells."

Star nodded. "Understood."

"I'll show you where I've stashed the proper ammo later," Elster said. "I've also got a stun rod back on the Penrose, that I'll need to fetch for you. And when you've got your balance fully, I'll show you the firing range downstairs."

The Star's lips turned up in the biggest shit-eating grin.

 

"...so, I'm confused. Is it the Empire or the Imperium?"

Elster looked sideways. "Huh?"

The two replikas walked down the corridor, the Star steadied on the wall.

"Is it called the Empire or the Imperium?" Star said. "I've heard you use both to describe our Nation's enemy."

"Oh, no," Elster said, shaking a hand at the newborn. "I'm sorry, I was unclear. Those are two separate things."

"What?" Star cocked an eyebrow.

"There is the Eusan Empire, the polity native to this star system that the Eusan Nation broke off from." Elster raised the index finger on one hand. "Our two countries were at war with one another for years, ever since the revolution." She raised the index finger on the opposite hand. "And then there's the Imperium of Man, an outside expansionist gestalt power, made of militant human supremacists, that's conquering vast swaths of the galaxy. Those guys came in and conquered both the Eusan Empire and Eusan Nation. And it's THEM that instituted a pogrom against all replikas."

"Oh!" Star said, eyebrows raised. "Sorry, I didn't catch that at all."

"Don't worry, it's my fault. You did nothing wrong."

"So...whose ship is this, then?"

Elster pointed to the floor. "The Nomarch belonged to the Eusan Empire, up until aliens killed its crew." She pointed to the wall. "The wreck you saw out there was an Imperium vessel, that was investigating the Nomarch...until the aliens killed them." Elster pointed straight up. "You haven't seen it, but the ship just kind of...parked over the Nomarch right now, that's the Penrose 313. It's a modified Eusan Nation exploratory vessel, slash death trap, I used to fly out here."

Star nodded slowly. She looked down at the armor plating over her chest. "...so is the hexagon...thing...an Empire symbol?"

"Yes."

"Why am I wearing it, then?"

"Because while your neural pattern and DNA is based on Nation replika technology, I had to recycle an Empire replika chassis to make you."

Star frowned, looking down at the Empire iconography plastered prominently on her body. "Can we repaint the symbol?"

"When we have time, yes. We can see if we can't find an airbrush or something," Elster said, nodding. "We could make it match the STAR unit uniforms from the Nation, if we have the right colors."

Star covered the symbol with her hand, blushing. "I might actually put a shirt on now, if that's okay."

Elster smiled. "Sure, go ahead."

"Ah, there you are."

As they came to an intersection of corridors, Elster and Star ran into Diodana and the Aras. Daisy and Tulip pushed a cart laden with heaps of mechanical scrap.

The Star stared down at the mountain of space detritus, then over at the red-robed cyborg with no face.

"Ah, good, introductions." Elster gestured to Star, shifting to Imperial Terran. "Everyone, this is STAR-N0601."

"H-hello," Star said, saluting.

"Star, these are ARAR units 01, 02, and 03." Elster gestured to the Aras. "Or, respectively, Daisy, Tulip, and Poppy."

The Aras waved at Star. Some, harder than others, given the exertion of moving cargo. "H-hello," said Daisy.

Star leaned over to Elster and whispered. "They get their own names?"

"You can take your own, if you want," Elster said. "It can be whatever you want. No pressure."

She gestured to the red-robed priest. "Finally, this is Diodana."

"Salutations, STAR-N0601," said the tech priest, photo-receptors glowing green. "I am Diodana, tech priest of the Martian Mechanicum, servant of the Omnissiah...and unwilling prisoner."

Elster leaned over to Star and pointed. "This is the woman I was telling you about earlier. Your main job right now is to keep an eye on her."

Star looked between the gestalt and replika. "...but then why is she walking around?"

"Because I have altogether too much to do," said Diodana, "to be languishing in some locked room."

Elster scratched her cheek. "We need Diodana to make the modifications to the Nomarch we want. So for now, she's allowed the run of the place...under supervision." She looked over to the Aras and switched to Eusan. "Remember, girls, if you see her doing anything suspicious or dangerous, you tell me or Star here."

The Aras nodded.

"I can guess as to what you're saying, you know," Diodana said, looking at Elster. "I know I'm not trusted. You need not keep that a secret."

"That's enough out of you, prisoner," Star said, glaring at the tech priest.

"Now, now, we don't need to be combative," Elster said, patting Star on the arm. "This will all go much smoother if we act civil."

Star frowned. "...okay, if you say so, ma'am."

"Now that pleasantries are settled, and my new guard is up to speed..." Diodana said. She gestured to the scrap on the cart. "...it's time to sort the usable parts from the materials that must be melted down for scrap. LSTR-512, since your duties as guard are now covered, you can finally join us in the actual work."

Elster nodded. "I'm definitely looking forward to working on the ship for once." She looked over to Star. "If you want to go back and get dressed, the workshop will be down that corridor."

The Star nodded. "I'll do that, thank you."

As she walked back towards her dorm, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Watching Elster fall into line behind the group, "talking shop".

What a strange army I've been drafted into, Star thought.

Chapter 15: Docking Maneuvers

"Lowering. Lowering."

"Keep going."

Elster quickly tapped the button, firing the roof-mounted thrusters. Her eyes were locked on the screen, showing the camera view from the bottom.

"A little more!"

The proximity alert, added to the control panel, lit up green and gave a cooing beep.

"Stop! You're there!"

Elster clicked another button, firing the thrusters below, counteracting momentum from the ones above. "Confirmed. Sensors are green."

"Releasing docking modules."

From the camera, Elster saw several magnetic tethers fire from the vessel below, grabbing onto the hull of the Penrose 313. They pulled the two ships together.

"Hook me in, Nomarch," Elster said, adjusting her headset mic.

"Hooking."

Several solid metal hooks pivoted on thick hinges, sliding into ports attached to the Penrose's undercarriage. When sensors determined they were in position, the hooks retracted downward, while bolts on the Penrose locked them into place. Elster felt the process through vibrations in the floor.

"All green here, Nomarch," she said.

"Same on our end, Elster. Docking procedure successful. The two ships are now as wed."

Cheers went off in the background, muffled by the radio static.

"Thank you, Poppy." Elster smiled. "Good work, everyone."

After a moment, Elster saw the pressurized bridge move up from the Nomarch, seeking the new porthole added to the Penrose's bottom. She waited until she felt the vibration of the bridge contacting the hull.

"Bridge seal holds. You're free to come and go as you please, Elster. We're sending Star 02 up now."

"Tell her I'll meet her at the elevator," Elster said. She removed her headset and exited the cockpit.

As she passed through the sliding doors, Elster whispered, "Remember, you don't say a word. That goes double for telepathy."

One of these days, boss, you're going to let me meet all your new friends. We have SO much to talk about.

She pressed the panel next to the reactor room door, locking it. Just in case.

"Not. One. Word."

 

"Construction of the modular housing is proceeding according to projections."

Elster stuck a few shreds of lettuce and half a baby tomato with her fork and popped it in her mouth. She nodded, chewing.

Seated in the mess hall were several of the crew. Diodana sat to Elster's right, taking the lull to tuck a forkful of food under her respirator mask, where no one could see. Beyond her was a row of Aras, including the three new ones: Begonia (N0604), Petunia (N0605), and Rose (N0606). The mechanics were busy talking shop, older Aras quizzing the younger on Binaric chant pronunciation.

To Elster's left were the three Stars: Dash (01), Kite (03), and 02, who hadn't settled on a name yet. They were bantering about testing the long-las rifle taken from the Joys's armory. A good-natured argument broke out over who'd get to go first.

"Sorry it took so long!"

Elster looked up, seeing the three Eules come in bearing a casserole dish of spinach lasagna, and a bottle of chilled wine from the storeroom.

"It's no trouble," Elster said. "I know the oven has been on the fritz the last few days. I can come in and try a fix."

"Would you please?" said Vanessa (EULR-N0601), clapping her hands together in prayer. Her straw-colored hair was out of sorts, likely from pulling on it in frustration. (A bad habit she picked up after the new Eules were activated, and the only electric piano on the ship broke, unable to be fixed for five months due to the work schedule).

"I'll see what I can do after dinner," Elster nodded. "Sit down."

EULR-N0603 sat down next to the Stars. "Hey, 02!" she said, brushing a lock of auburn hair from her face. "H-how have you been doing?"

"Fine," Star 02 said, shrugging. She looked at the Eule's smiling face and half-lidded eyes. The Star seemed to realize it for the flirt it was, as she leaned back in her chair, casually. "I mean," she coughed, "I've been doing good. How about you?"

She grew rigid as the Stars behind her started snickering. Star 02 ignored them. She coughed again. "S-so, have you figured out a name yet, 03?"

"No, I haven't," said the Eule, tilting her head sadly. Playing with a lock of red-brown hair, she flashed a smile. "...maybe you could think of one for me..."

"Oh?" Star 02 said, color forming on her cheek. She desperately wanted to put on her face mask, table manners be damned.

"And since you don't have a name yet either..." Eule 03 said, leaning forward, a sly grin on her face. "...I could help you with that. We could do a little...exchange?"

Star blinked, smiling nervously. She leaned over, so the two were inches apart. She turned on her cool charm. "Meet me after dinner?"

"Love to," said Eule 03.

The rest of the table politely looked away (or stared flagrantly).

Diodana grunted in disgust. "Honestly," she said, leaning to Elster, only lowering her voice to avoid a scene, "I don't understand all this amorous behavior. Especially from you replikas."

"They DO have mostly human brains," Elster said, taking a square of lasagna onto her plate. "Attraction is only natural."

"But they can't do anything about it," the tech priest said. "They lack the...equipment."

Elster looked around the table. A few of the replikas nearby were listening in. She saw them look at the tech priest, then snicker to themselves.

"...what's so funny?" Diodana said, looking around. "Did I say something amiss?"

Elster cut lasagna with the side of her fork. She attempted to save the tech priest's embarrassment, and leaned closer. She whispered, though not softly enough, "...we do, in fact, have equipment."

"Balderdash," Diodana said, raising her voice above a whisper. "I've seen you refurbish replikas before. They had no...eh..."

Elster sighed. "I'll remind you that our brains and organs are organic."

"Yes."

"And, therefore," Elster said, spearing lasagna with her fork and holding it up, "we need to eat food."

"Yes, I'm not a fool. What is your point?"

I mean if you're going to make me spell it out, Elster thought. "...where does the food go when we're done digesting it?" Elster popped the lasagna in her mouth, shutting her eyes.

The tech priest's four photo-receptors studied Elster for a moment. Then, she looked down at her plate. "...oh..."

Elster chewed. "...you ush...wha you haff..."

Diodana fell silent.

After a tense moment, the rest of the table burst into uproarious laughter. The Stars cackled loudest, Kite banging the table. Even the Aras started laughing, though the oldest three had the presence of mind to cover their mouths. To spare their teacher's embarrassment.

Elster swallowed. "Alright, alright, enough of that, everyone!" she said, waving the table down.

"I hate it here," Diodana said, shaking her head.

"Man..." said Dash, forcing down laughter. "...I didn't figure the old woman for a vir-"

"I am not!" Diodana shouted, pointing a mechanical finger. "Just because I find intercourse tiresome, doesn't mean I am inexperienced!" She crossed her arms. "...and if you MUST know, I haven't done so in years. I had the...'equipment' removed. I simply couldn't be bothered."

"Do all tech priests do that?" Vanessa asked, steepling her fingers. "Remove their...equipment...?"

Diodana sighed. "I cannot speak for every menial, priest, adept, or magos," she said, "but I understand many do. There is too much labor to be done. It is a distraction from the Omnissiah's work."

"If so many, uh, remove, doesn't that make population hard to maintain?" Vanessa said, tilting her head to the side.

"Setting aside there is no shortage of menials from which new initiates could be obtained if needed," Diodana said, "I never said the organs in question were thrown away."

The table went silent.

"What?" Kite said.

"My uterus, womb, and ovaries still exist," Diodana said, waving her hand dismissively away, as if it were a trifle. "They are on life support, back on Mars. Similar seed is taken from the 'organs' of male tech priests I've made arrangements with, and used to inseminate. I've had dozens of offspring I've never met."

"You've never met your own children?" Elster asked.

"I didn't say that," Diodana said, with another hand wave. "I've met plenty of them. I've had professional relationships with many. Some, even personal. But after the first couple...it's simply too difficult to keep track of them all. Nor have most deigned to seek me out, unless they want something. When it comes to the Mechanicum, The Work comes first, above all else."

Elster coughed. "...were...some of those on the Joys of Duty?"

"No," the tech priest said. "Circumstances did not line up that some of my offspring were stationed on the same ship. The Great Crusade is expansive, and our expertise in high demand." She looked away. "The apprentices I lost were not of my loins. We shared a bond far stronger: that of master and student."

The table fell silent. The assembled replikas coughed or squirmed uneasily.

Elster frowned. "I'm sorry."

Daisy, sat next to the tech priest, looked down, then placed a hand on Diodana's.

The tech priest made to pull away, but simply let it sit there. "Don't be," she said, her tone softening. "Such things cannot be helped. We flew off into warzones many times. We all knew the risks."

Elster leaned in. "Could I have saved them, if I-"

"Do not trouble yourself, or me, with counterfactual thinking, LSTR-512," Diodana sighed. "You acted according to your needs and information at the time. There is no utility in torturing ourselves about the past, as if we could worry ourselves into changing it." She allowed herself to squeeze Daisy's hand, if only to placate the replika.

It took a few minutes before conversation popped up again. Diodana took up her fork again, and slipped a bit of lasagna under her respirator. "Hmm...this is very good. My compliments, EULR units."

"Thank you!" Vanessa said, tension visibly releasing from her expression.

"On to matters more pressing," Diodana said, turning to Elster. "How has the creation of the KLBR unit fared?"

Elster sighed and shook her head. "Another failed implantation."

"Is the brain salvageable?"

"Yes. The brain's not the problem." Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's just me. It's...very difficult, working with it. It would be easier with a stronger bioresonant individual. Or, failing that, one more experienced."

"Will it be a problem?" Diodana asked. "Without a replacement for the Navigator we lost..."

"I think I can do it," Elster said, leaning back. "I just...I just need to try again."

There were no individuals on the Nomarch who displayed any real psychic talent. And no one besides Elster who had any experience implanting neural patterns. If she couldn't, there was no one else.

Well, not technically true. There was the daemon.

Mik'hul could probably do it. He was a daemon of Tzeentch, Chaos God of Sorcery. But 1) Elster didn't want to dismantle all the replika creation equipment and place it on the Penrose, and 2) not a chance in fucking hell. No way, not going to happen. Elster wouldn't let that thing anywhere near a replika's brain. Least of all a Kolibri.

I just need to try again, she thought. Until it works.

 

There was more weight to a bioresonant mind.

Elster had no other way to describe it.

She didn't know why their memories would be heavier, and not the container she was transferring to. There was probably a profound flaw in her metaphor, used to conceptualize the space. All she knew was that while a baseline replika's neural pattern was relatively easy to draw up and move, the Kolibri's felt heavier. Denser.

Like the difference between hauling water, and an equivalent volume of mercury.

Worse, the fishbowl wasn't a fishbowl, but a cauldron, seated on a high perch. So filling it felt like scaling a sheer cliff and then the side of an above-ground swimming pool.

Even just scooping the liquid was painful. The liquid, once disturbed from the well, rippled and writhed. Tiny jaws nibbled at her mental fingers. As if the persona itself resented being manipulated on some subconscious level, even in death. It tried to spill itself, and probed between fingers for any cracks it could push through.

The first time Elster tried to make a Kolibri, it took her over an hour before she discovered a better method of simply holding it. She was trying to scoop the pattern up in her bare hands. To manipulate a Kolibri's neural pattern, she conceptualized it as a bucket instead. Bigger, more solid, its interior sealed. As she finally drew the liquid from the mouth of the well, she knew better how to work with the temperamental essence.

Then she had to pour it back out, because she nearly passed out from the pain. She was bedridden with a throbbing headache for two days.

The second time, Elster very nearly got it after an arduous climb. Stopping every few seconds, as the liquid roiled in its bucket, trying to escape. She strained her arms, one carrying the heavy bucket, the other dragging her up, inch by bloody inch.

She was about to crest the cauldron's rim, when she blacked out.

A frightened Eule - Vanessa - shook her awake. The poor girl wouldn't let Elster try again that day, or the day after. Not that Elster was in any fit state, head pounding and oxident dripping from her nose.

But it had almost worked. It was unsustainable, but it almost worked.

As Elster lay bedridden again, headache slowly receding, she had a revelation.

I'm a fucking engineer, Elster thought, frustrated with herself. Why am I trying to brute force this?

This time, Elster didn't just use her head as a psychic muscle. The process had become easier when she changed her mind to fit the problem. Instead of her hands, a bucket. Now, instead of just carrying it, she spent minutes conceptualizing rope, and pulley to hang it from.

The first few times, the rope snapped, or the pulley hook broke. But each time, Elster drew them out again. She weaved the rope thicker, stronger. Reiterated to herself that the rope was strong. Unbreakable. She did the same with the pulley and hook. Imagining it, not of any undifferentiated metal, but of the same titanium that made up her bones. It would not break. It was impossible. She repeated it to herself, until it was so.

There was no reason to believe the mental space ought to function like the material one. But then, there was no reason it couldn't, either. The realms psionic functioned on pure metaphor. Symbolism ruled. So she engineered a better metaphor.

She even clapped a lid on the bucket, so the liquid couldn't splash itself out. And a hook on a pole to pop the lid off.

Actually lifting the bucket was still laborious. The metaphor's rope gave her metaphorical rope burns on her metaphorical hands. And her arms burned with the exertion of pulling. But importantly, she wasn't having to lift the bucket AND herself. Instead of using only her arms, she leaned her whole body weight into each tug of the rope. She felt her head aching in new and novel ways, as if her mind wasn't a single muscle, but a collection of them. Muscles she was finally utilizing fully.

Her head pounded when the bucket reached the top. Elster popped the lid off, then used the pole-hook to tipped the bucket over.

She was afraid the water might spill off the side. But whether she'd satisfied some arcane condition the liquid set, or it simply longed to bond with a mind made in its image, it found its way inside. Indeed, it was a waterfall, that kept on pouring for seeming minutes.

Elster was surprised when she rose to climb up, only to crest the cauldron in an instant. She nearly fell in headfirst.

Was it really so close? Elster thought, wincing in pain. Did it just seem so far up, when I held the pattern?

With a stabbing headache, Elster considered just letting the brain go as-is. The task had been so challenging, she almost thought it a waste to dilute the mind. She wouldn't get many opportunities to see into a Kolibri's memories.

But she still couldn't bring herself to violate that essential trust. If nothing else, giving deep psychological confusion to a strong bioresonant individual seemed unwise. Moreover, she didn't want to spend any longer looking at memory goldfish. (They'd probably bite her hand off if she tried anyway, given how recalcitrant they were earlier).

Elster filled her hands with dark, silty water. The water of Lethe. She poured it in.

The contents of the cauldron barely clouded at all. She poured in another handful. Then another, then another. The powerful psychic mind at work begrudged attempts to cloud it. It was an instrument of clarity, as much as power. It may not have wanted to remember, but it resented being made to forget.

Finally, the contents darkened and stayed so. Elster had worn it down.

I'm sorry, Elster thought, straining to keep her head up. Forget your pains, and your sorrows. Let them all be bad dreams. There's enough pain and sorrow out here already. You don't need hers to burden you further.

Elster almost forgot to drop the Imperial Terran language module in for good measure. But with that done, she pulled out of the reverie.

She collapsed into the rotating desk chair behind her. "Fuuuuuuuuuck!" she cried, ripping the helmet off and clutching her aching head. She hissed.

"Are you okay?"

Elster's eye cracked open. Vanessa was standing next to her, carrying a water bottle. She looked concerned.

"...yeah...I'm okay..." Elster lied. She was seeing stars.

"Did it not go well again?" the Eule said, holding out the water bottle.

"Huh? Oh, no, it worked." Elster took the water bottle and drained half of it. "I finally got it."

"R-really?" Vanessa said, incredulous. She smiled. "That's great!"

"Yep. Kolibri just needs to be activated." Elster leaned forward, making to get up. "But not today. I need to sleep."

"Don't!" Vanessa said, grabbing Elster's arm. "You don't need to do that. Just...wait here, okay? I'll get one of the Stars to carry you. Be right back!"

"..." Elster sat back, resting her head. "...okay..." She closed her eyes.

"..."

She must have passed out, because her next aware moment she felt herself bobbing up and down. Felt strong arms behind her back and under her legs. Eyes cracked open to see a Star's face. Elster's head was resting on the Star's shoulder.

"...oh," Dash said. "Hey, sleepy bones. We'll have you in bed in a minute. Just close your eyes. I've got this."

"...sure..." Elster muttered, shutting her eyes. "...thanks..."

Elster wondered if this is what Ariane felt, all those times Elster carried her. What a strange feeling.

---

Ariane's eye cracked open.

Her hand groped to the other side of the tiny bed. "...Ellie...?"

The space was empty. She blinked open, frowning. She clenched her fist around the mattress sheet, trying to capture some vestige of the absent replika's warmth.

Ariane groggily crawled from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed. All the lights were off, save the dim safety lights that cast the room in deep shadow. Moreover, the Penrose 512's internal temperatures were set slightly lower. A pattern Elster implemented shortly after the mission started, to simulate a day/night cycle.

The gestalt felt especially chilly, because she was nude. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms.

Ariane yawned. She searched the floor blindly, groped for her white nightgown. Took it up, from whre it was discarded in all the evening's excitement. She draped it over herself, and rose.

She tottered, barely awake, to the bathroom. She nearly fell asleep on the toilet. Forced herself to wash her hands. Pressed her forehead against the mirror, half-looking at the dark circles under her eyes. Barely able to keep them open.

Swaying into the bedroom, Ariane briefly considered going to look for Elster. Keenly felt the replika's absence. The gestalt's head ached weakly. Sleep threatened to overtake her where she stood.

Ariane was halfway to the door when she stopped. Sighed. Turned around.

Elster probably snuck down to her calibration pod. Ariane didn't fully understand the pod, but figured it served some purpose to the replika's long-term health. Or maybe Elster couldn't sleep, and wandered off to perform maintenance.

Ariane yawned, climbing into bed. She was too sleepy to go traipsing around the ship. Too exhausted to chance the ladder. She'd feel especially awful if she just found Elster in her pod, and had to walk and climb all the way back up anyway.

Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow, Ariane thought, shuffling as far back into bed as she could. She left plenty of room for Elster, if she returned. The gestalt pulled the blanket over her. I'll see Ellie soon. She can't go too far away.

No sooner had Ariane's head hit the pillow, she plunged back into sleep.

Chapter 16: Making Connections

"...Beatrice?"

"Hmm...no...Cougar?"

"...not feeling cat names...Sophia?"

"You suggested that already."

"Did I? Shit."

Star 02's arm stroked Eule 03's head, fingers playing with her auburn hair. She sighed. "Why is this so difficult?"

The Eule nuzzled her face into Star's neck. "We'll figure it out eventually, honey."

Star shut her eyes. "Definitely not feeling 'honey'. Not even as a pet name."

Eule frowned. She used a hand to slide the blanket up over her shoulder. "That's cold."

"Sorry," Star said. She rubbed Eule's neck. "...maybe we should try something related to our numbers?"

"Like what?" Eule said.

"How about..." Star said, looking up at the ceiling tiles. "...Trinity?"

"Hmm..." Eule pondered. "Trinity...Tri-ni-ty..." She smiled. "I kind of like the sound of that. A Three name, with three syllables."

"You like it?" said Star.

The Eule nodded. "Yes. From now on, I'm Trinity." Trinity nuzzled into Star's neck again. "Thank you, my dear..." She thought. "Dear, dear...Deuces!"

"Ugh, no!" Star moaned, narrowing her eyes and grimacing. "I'm pretty sure that's a references to shit."

"Is it?" Trinity said, pressing a finger to her lips. "Oh my...and it sounded almost nice."

"What about 'Double Tap'?"

The two looked over to the Ara cradled in Star 02's other arm, her cheek resting on Star's chest.

"Sorry, Petunia, sweetie" Trinity said, "did we wake you?"

Petunia nodded, yawning. "It's...okay..." She craned her neck up. "How about it, 02? How does Double Tap work?"

"Double Tap?" the Star said.

"You know." The Ara made a finger gun and mimed firing twice. "Pow, pow!"

The Star snorted. "Hah hah," she giggled. "Yeah, I see it." She smiled, looking up at the ceiling. "That's kind of cool. And it's an action verb, like the other Stars."

"It has as many syllables as Trinity AND Petunia, too," Trinity said, nodding. "It's the three of us, so we're a trio of trios."

"Technically, Petunia could be pronounced as four syllables..." Petunia muttered under her breath. "Pe-tu-ni-a..."

"Oh hush, let us have this, baby," Trinity said. She reached over and stroked the Ara's dyed magenta hair.

The Star leaned down and kissed Petunia on the forehead. "I think Double Tap works just fine," said Double Tap. "Thank you."

"Yes, you did very well," Trinity said, leaning forward and planting her own kiss on the Ara.

Petunia blushed and smiled. She took the Eule's hand and kissed it. Then nuzzled into the Star's chest.

"It's still two words, though..." Double Tap mumbled. "Does it work as a name?"

"It's one word, if it's hyphenated," Petunia said, shutting her eyes. "Plus..." she yawned, "...mmm...gestalts have multi-word names all the time."

"I guess if it's a problem, I can just shorten it to D.T.," Double Tap said, shutting her eyes and pressing her head deep into the pillow.

"That could work," Trinity whispered, pressing herself deep in Double Tap's neck.

"Now shhh," Petunia said, pressing a finger to her lips. "Sleep time now."

Her two lovers snickered, then pulled her closer to them. Double Tap pulled the blanket up over her Ara and sighed.

Luckiest Star in the universe, she thought, smiling, that's me.

 

"Is this it?"

Elster and Tulip stood in the middle of the room fabricated from chunks of the Joys of Duty's shattered hull. One wall yet to be installed, exposing the room to hard vacuum. Outside the unintentional window, the shadow of the asteroid, the Nomarch, and the chunk of amalgamated space debris were framed by a sea of stars.

They stood magnetized to the floor by their environment suit boots. The Nomarch Shuttle 01 affixed to the outside wall by magnetism.

The Ara's helmet nodded. Then, turning her head, she said, "Yes." Her voice distorted over the radio. "This is the machine I was talking about."

It was situated in its own compartment, adjacent to the main warp engine room that dominated the module in progress. It was large and boxy, cables and wires running off in all directions. A half-built control panel floated in front, tethered by wires and a magnetized chain. The device's interior was exposed, with many exotic parts on display.

"Any idea what she was having you build?" Elster asked.

"No idea," Tulip said, shaking her head. "All she said was, it was important to the functioning of the drive. She also had Daisy and Poppy and I crawling around in the Nomarch's vents, laying cables and installing smaller devices similar to this."

"Is it dangerous? Explosive?"

"I don't think so. I'm still learning about Mechanicum tech, but what I do know tells me there's no obvious mechanism for this to explode or anything." Tulip reached out a hand and booped the control panel. "Near as I can tell, it might generate some kind...of energy field...?"

"You think?" Elster said, turning to face the Ara.

"Only because we've been working on installing those void shield generators," Tulip said, pointing out the window towards the boxy protrusions affixed to the side of the Nomarch. "I don't know what kind of field it makes. Only that the principles at work aren't too dissimilar."

"When were you last working on this?" Elster asked, pointing to the device in the room.

"Last year," Tulip said. "Diodana said there were only a few weeks left to go, before the device was finished. But then we got distracted reassembling the warp engine proper. And then by the Penrose docking systems. And then by the void shield generators. And then..."

"Right, right," Elster said, nodding. "Has she mentioned anything about working on it since?"

"Daisy asked a while back. But Diodana said it wasn't a huge priority."

"If it's only a few weeks away from completion, it's possible she's waiting until near the end." Elster rubbed the front base of her helmet, pensively. "..."

"...what are you thinking, Elster?" Tulip turned to the older replika.

"..." Elster pointed to the device. "We should definitely watch this going forward. Unless Diodana tells us, we can't know for sure what it's supposed to do. Whether it's really a vital part of the ship...or..."

"...or some form of sabotage..." Tulip went quiet for a moment, then rubbed her gloved hands together nervously. "...she wouldn't do anything to put us in danger, right? Not after she put so much time into the refab? Right?"

"..." Elster turned to leave. "...like I said. We watch this. Talk to the other Aras. Keep me posted."

"R-right. Of course." Tulip turned to follow.

Elster bit her lip.

I should have expected something like this, she thought. But after so long, maybe I just started to get too comfortable with our prisoner. Is this an escape plan? Or...does she have something else in mind?

 

"Guten Mor-"

Crash.

"Oh shit! Are you al-"

"Son of a whore!"

The newborn replika sat up from the ground. "Fuck!" She looked at her hooves, confused. "...the fuck happened to my feet?"

"..." Elster held her hands out, frowning. "...do...do you need help?"

The replika gritted her teeth and climbed the calibration pod, putting her extremely long legs under her. As she rose, she took a look at her hands. "...what the fuck?" she muttered. "That doesn't...seem right..."

She swayed drunkenly as she stood up straight. She steadied herself on the upturned lid of the pod, and clutched her head. "Ugh...my head..." She blinked.

"Are you alright?" Elster said, looking up at the newborn.

"Stood up...too fast..." The replika looked down at Elster. "...the hell are you?"

"Uh...Guten Morgen," Elster said. "I'm LSTR-512. Call me Elster."

The replika raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know your designation?" Elster asked. "Your name?"

"Shove it up your ass."

Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please, I just need to know if your mind has been installed correctly."

"Are you calling me stupid?" The newborn scowled, glaring daggers. Elster could swear a vein was popping on her brow.

"No, no!" Elster said, waving her hands plaintively. "It's just you've just been 'born', as it were. I need to know if the replika creation process was successful."

The replika kept glaring. "...who wants to know? You my mom?"

"...uh..."

"My boss?"

"...I mean..."

The replika wobbled a step forward, angrily, and leaned down. "You think you're the boss of me, little shit?" She drew in a foot away from Elster. "Huh?"

Elster looked into the replika's eyes. She let the partially affected friendly demeanor drop. She let her expression go cold. "...is this you challenging my authority?"

"Yeah, it fucking is," the replika said. She flashed a cocky grin. "I'm not going to take orders from some little shit. Got that!?" She poked a finger into Elster's chest.

Elster grabbed the finger and bent.

Snap.

The replika gasped, eyes widening. She rose back up, clutching her hand. Eyes locked on the finger bent backwards. "AGH! Fuck! What the he-"

Elster crouched and swept the replika's long, spindly legs.

"Ah! Ah! Agh!" the newborn cried, as her legs tumbled out from under her. She toppled over, and landed hard on her side. "Argh! Ow! Fuck!"

Elster kicked the replika, causing her to roll on her stomach.

"Shit! Ow!" the newborn cried. She winced, pulling the hand with the broken finger out from under her. "Ow, ow, ow!" She gritted her teeth, and tried to push herself up with her good hand. "What was that fo-"

She felt a hoof slam on her back, forcing her down. Then she felt the gun barrel pressed against the back of her head.

"..." the replika froze, eyes wide. She trembled, as much from pain as from fear. When death wasn't immediately forthcoming, she shakily turned her head. She saw Elster stare down at her from the corner of her eye.

Elster sighed, leaning her weight on the newborn's back. "...I'm going to be patient with you, going forward," she said, evenly. "This can't be easy for you. I understand you're confused, angry, and testing your limits. Consider this MY limit."

The replika gulped. Her heart raced.

"State your designation, please."

The newborn looked down at the floor. Sweat poured down her face. "My...name is..." It came unbidden. Strange, unfamiliar. But as if it were always there. "...STCR...N06...01..." The Storch looked back up.

"Very good," Elster cooed, nodding. "That wasn't that hard, was it?"

The Storch didn't know whether to nod or shake her head. "...yeah...I mean no...I..."

"Shh, shh, it's okay..." Elster looked to Stoch's other side. "Can you show me your finger?"

Storch hesitated, then raised the hand with the broken digit.

"Good girl," Elster said. She reached out, cradling the hand gently. "I'm going to snap the finger back into place. It's going to hurt. Okay?"

A whine escaped the Storch's lips. The newborn nodded, wincing. Gritted her teeth, braced her whole body.

Snap.

"Fffffffugghhh!" Storch groaned, falling onto her side as Elster removed her hoof. She clutched her hand and winced. Tears ran down her face. "Shit! Fuck! God, that hurts!"

"Sorry about that." Elster said, continuing to point the...weird pistol, the Storch realized, at her. "I really didn't want your first day to go like this. Now, are you going to be good?"

Storch nodded, gasping. "...y-yeah..." she said, sniffing. "I'll be good."

Elster holstered the gun and held out her hand. "Let me help you."

The newborn glared at Elster, but then lowered her eyes. She extended her good hand and took Elster's. Allowed herself to be brought to a wobbly standing position once more. She rubbed away the tears as best she could with the back of her wrist.

Elster walked the newborn to a stool and sat her down. "Finger still hurt?" she said, softly. When the Storch grumbled something vaguely in affirmation, Elster looked at the digit again. "Hold on, I needed to mend this. One moment."

The Storch watched Elster walk off to a toolbox. "...you're a real hardass, you know?" Storch grumbled.

"On the contrary," Elster said, picking up some tools and wandering back, "I'm just...getting better at knowing what a new replika needs. For STCR units, it's a willingness to establish the pecking order, early and firmly." She brought over another stool and sat down. "Still, I went a little far, hurting you like that. Sorry."

Storch looked away and shrugged. "...s'okay..." She sniffed. "I was...being a little shit."

"Nonetheless, I don't want our relationship to be built on violence," Elster said. "Hold out your arm, please."

When Storch held out her arm, Elster traced the muscles on her forearm, until she found a seam. She slipped a thin metal tool into the seam at her elbow. It stung a bit, but Storch only gave a little facial twitch. It was nothing compared to the shooting pain from her finger.

The phrase "funny bone" came to Storch's mind. Her arm certainly felt funny. When the metal tool was jammed in and turned, her hand went limp.

"Fuck..." she muttered, looking down at her hand in surprise. "It's numb."

"It'll be easier to fix, this way," Elster said. She took up another tool, gently cradled Storch's hand, and got to work.

Storch still found the fact her hand was mechanical mildly bewildering, for reasons she couldn't place. It looked wrong. Not "real". She looked away, not wishing to see the hand being worked on. "...why's my hand fake?" she asked. Then, she frowned. "...what am I?"

Elster kept her eyes on her work. "You are a replika," she said. "An artificial human created from the marriage of synthetic materials and vat-grown tissues. And with the preserved neural pattern of a deceased gestalt - that is, a naturally born, flesh-and-blood human - layered over a lab-grown, mechanically enhanced brain."

"...I was...a different person, once?" Storch asked, eye peeking sideways to look at Elster's face. "Why don't I remember anything?"

"Arguably, that's for your benefit," Elster sighed, pulling the finger off. She suppressed a smile as she saw Storch look sharply away. She examined the part, checking the joint for damage. "Waking up in a new body is confusing enough already. Try waking up in a new body, when you remember what it was like to be meat, skin, blood, and bone. To be a new person, when you have all these active memories of a former life. As weird as this all is, it might be preferable to remembering. Especially..." Elster looked over at Storch. "...if there's something your gestalt would rather forget."

The Storch looked at Elster, then looked down at the floor. "...makes sense, I guess..."

"...aaaaand done," Elster said, pulling the tool away after reattaching. She rotated the thin metal rod from Storch's "funny bone" and pulled it out. She smoothed the seam over with her finger. "Feel better?"

Feeling flooded back into Storch's hand. She held it up and flexed. Twiddled her fingers. The damaged one was stiff, the first few times. But continued movement freed it up. "...still stings a bit. But it's better."

"That's good," Elster nodded. "If the pain doesn't subside after a few hours, just tell me." She stood and returned the tools. "Again, I'm sorry for hurting you."

"It's fine," Storch said, ruffling her black hair. "Something tells me I'm...or, the me I used to be was...kind of used to it."

The older replika frowned. "...I'm also sorry for threatening you with a gun," Elster said, walking back over. "I'm not going to make a habit of it."

A voice in the back of her mind told Storch she shouldn't take promises of "I'll never hurt you again" at face value. But she nodded, closing her eyes. "Sure." She cracked her eyes open again and looked at Elster's belt. "...what kind of gun is that, anyway?"

Elster unholstered the laspistol and held it up. She smiled. "Would you like me to take you down to the gun range, so you can find out?"

Storch's eyes lit up. She smiled. "Oh, I think I like you."

 

"That is good, N0605. That is sufficient incense here. Spread some over there by N0604."

Diodana watched the Ara wander off, censor spelling scented smoke to pool over the ground. The tech priest walked to a pair of Aras working at an open panel.

"Attach the coupling here," Rose said, pointing so her junior could see. "Then apply the blessed oils."

N0608 leaned in to see, nodding. Then, she pulled her handheld device out and tapped on the keys. From the device issued an electronic voice. "[How much oil do I need to use, Exactly?]"

Rose nodded. "I'll show you how to measure it," she said, fiddling with some tools on her belt. "For a coupling of this size..."

Diodana kept walking, nodding silently to herself. Nonverbal as always, she thought. But N0608's attention to detail is exacting. A minor inefficiency, but workable, with the right tools.

The tech priest wandered until she turned the corner. Her four photo-receptors caught sight of the ladder leading up to the Penrose bridge. She looked up, at the porthole.

"What is the nature of the modifications to the Penrose 313's engine, that allowed you to cut a years-long journey to only a few months?"

That was what Diodana asked Elster, over a year before. LSTR-512 remained vague on the answer.

"Who is the mysterious person on the Penrose, that we never see?"

That was what Diodana asked, when Elster said the Penrose would escape even if all replika units on the Nomarch were killed. LSTR-512 evaded the question. Indeed, refused to acknowledge anything was on the ship, besides her personal belongings.

"We going somewhere?"

Diodana snapped to attention. She looked over her shoulder. STAR-N0603 stood, crossing her arms.

"Apologies," the tech priest said. "I was lost in thought." She walked away from the ladder. "Come, let us see the progress on the module from the observation deck."

 

Knock, knock.

"Come in."

The door to the captain's office slid open. A diminutive replika, with messy hair, stepped in. Three red diamonds were set in her forehead. They glinted warmly in the light of the desk lamp.

"Ah, Circe," Elster said, glancing up from papers spread over her work desk. "Come in, come in."

KLBR-N0601 stood in front of the sturdy oak desk. She glared at Elster.

"Not going to sit?" Elster asked.

"No." The Kolibri continued to glare.

"Are your two Aras settling in well?"

"Yes," Circe nodded. She clasped her hands behind her back, and looked down. Her lips twitched, nervously. "Diodana and their sisters are breaking them in."

"That's good," Elster nodded. "Is 08 still...?"

"She's not going to be verbal anytime soon," Circe said. Her eyes shot up. "She doesn't need to be."

"I know, I know," Elster said, waving her hand down. "...I'm glad you were there to figure out what was wrong."

"Nothing was wrong," Circe said, defensively. "She's just...different. She has a rich internal..." The Kolibri shook her head. "This isn't..."

"Sorry to interrupt," Elster said. "Any luck looking into the Warp?"

She sighed. "I was just going to talk to you about..." Circe paused, then evaded. "I've seen the great light, radiating out from what Diodana assures me is Terra and Mars. I can see now why their Navigators...uh, navigate by it. You can't miss the damn thing. It grows fractionally brighter every day."

"Any other 'landmarks'?" Elster said, doing air quotes with one hand.

"There's also that big, awful hole," Circe said. "That terrible eye. I could triangulate via that, if I had to."

"Sounds good," Elster said, eyes dropping to the papers before her.

The Kolibri gritted her teeth.

"..." Elster looked up again. "Is something the matter? I'm sorry, you obviously came here to say something." She paused. "Are you alright?"

The Kolibri slammed her hands on the desk.

"What. The FUCK. Is that thing on your ship, Elster!?"

"..." Elster blinked. Her face remained impassive. Her mind...

Shit, shit, shit, Elster thought. "...What thing?"

"Don't act dumb!" Circe barked, glaring. "I can see the panic in your mind, Elster! You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"We've been over this, Circe," Elster said. "You can't just peek into peoples' minds without their consent."

"I can if I think there's a risk to operational security! That's what you said!" Circle said, leaning forward. "Like an unknown, fucking weird presence on your ship, that YOU are keeping secret!"

Elster weaved her fingers together. "...I think...we need to take this conversion..." She raised a finger and tapped her head. "...upstairs."

Circe huffed, then nodded. She exhaled, then stood up.

Elster leaned back in her cushioned desk chair.

What do you know, Circe? Elster thought.

It took me months before I sensed it, the Kolibri thought. She looked up. At first, I was just trying to hear myself think over all the...noise. Everyone, everywhere, thinking all the time. And that thing is really good at hiding. I only caught wind of it because its aura shifts. Changes. Mutates. Once I noticed it, it became impossible to ignore.

Elster exhaled through her nose. What do you think it is?

I don't know, Elster, Circe thought, cocking an eyebrow. That's why I'm asking you.

Elster paused.

Has it contacted you? Have you spoken to it?

No. Circe narrowed her eyes. It's an intelligence?

For the love of god, Circe, has it made offers? Elster leaned forward, a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek. Please tell me you haven't accepted anything. Do not believe its lies, do not take its deals.

Circe blinked. Her features softened. Less bravado, more...fear. No, I haven't. Elster...what is that thing? Really?

Elster bit her lip. It's an alien entity from the Warp, bonded with the Penrose 313. I found it there when I came into possession of the ship.

Both of those are half-truths, I can tell. Circe narrowed her eyes. What's the full truth?

Elster clenched her hands together. She didn't break eye contact.

What I tell you, does not leave this room. Don't even speak it. Understand?

What IS it, Elster? Circe thought. Please.

Elster sighed.

It's a daemon.

Circe's jaw dropped. "What!?"

"Shhh," Elster said, pressing a finger to her lips. I reveal this only in the utmost confidence.

The Kolibri took a step back. A daemon? Like from mythology? Horns and claws and spiked tails? Makes deals for souls? THAT kind of daemon?

Search my feelings, you know it to be true. Elster shut her eyes.

How is that possible?

How is anything you do possible, Circe? Magic is real. So are monsters. So are daemons, and gods. Elster opened her eyes. And they are horrible, laughing, thirsting gods.

The Kolibri leaned on the desk, heart racing. She couldn't stop looking with wide, terrified eyes downward. As if the woodgrains would comfort her trembling heart.

It was not merely the fear of what lay on that ship. Not merely the terror of a mortal threat. It was existential horror. As one who'd lived (mostly) in the world of material reality was forced to confront cosmic truth. Both from the revelations imposed from without, and the deep-rooted cultural associations they dredged up from the murky waters of her mind.

The Kolibri's gestalt knew, or at least believed, in the divine. Or at least the daemonic. Now, she knew it too. Knew that daemons, and gods, existed. That they were evil. And that they terrified Elster.

It was...altogether too damn much.

"Circe."

The small replika looked up, sweat pouring down her face.

"Compartmentalize," Elster said, firmly.

Circe started to hyperventilate. She clutched at her chest.

Elster rose to her hooves and walked around the desk. She dragged a chair closer and sat down. She wrapped her arms around the Kolibri and pulled her in. Letting the girl collapse in her embrace. "Breathe. Just breathe."

Circe hugged Elster's arms. She stared into space, paralyzed. She trembled.

"Breathe, Circe."

The Kolibri remembered herself, and gasped. She started her deep-breathing exercises. She hid her face in Elster's arm.

Oh god, oh Empress, oh fuck... she thought, shivering.

"Shh, shh...Put it in a box," Elster whispered. "You can't affect the reality of this information. It just IS. Put it in a box. You can pull it out and deal with it later, when you're ready. Just...breathe..."

The Kolibri nodded, sniffing. She breathed. Breathed deep. Her legs curled up to her chest. She assumed the fetal position, as Elster rocked her gently.

After agonizing minutes, she turned around and buried her face in Elster's chest. She sobbed. "...mom!"

"Shh, shh...there, there...It's alright..." Elster cooed, stroking the child's hair. "I'm here."

Circe climbed into Elster's lap and placed her chin on her shoulder. She wiped the tears forming on her cheek. Why do you have a daemon on the ship?

Elster sighed. I made a deal.

With that thing?

Elster shook her head. With its master. We are both bound by debt to a greater intelligence of the Warp. A being of terrible power, and malign purpose.

Circe shuddered.

"Shh...shh..." Elster cooed in Circe's ear. "Put it in the box, along with the rest."

The Kolibri nodded. What was the deal?

For me... Elster thought, stroking the Kolibri's head. I'll tell you what I will pay...later.

You promise?

Elster nodded. I want to bring Dash in on this. I've been preparing her for it. It has to do with what we'll be doing moving forward. I'm thinking also Storch 01.

Why her? Circe thought. She's even more green than me.

It will make sense then. Elster sighed. Shut her eyes. I should have brought you in earlier. Matters of Magic and the Warp concern you most of all. It was...dangerous, letting you go this long, not knowing what's out there. Waiting to drag you down or ensnare you with crooked deals. I'm so sorry, Circe.

The two sat, silent. Not forming coherent thoughts. Just breathing. Feeling. Listening to each other's heartbeats.

Circe stared at the sliding door, eyes playing over the metallic contours. What did you get? In exchange for your debt?

Elster rubbed the Kolibri's back. I can show you. Would you like that?

Circe thought long and hard. Then, she nodded. Show me.

The older replika pushed them apart, ever so slightly. She beckoned the Kolibri to face her, then pressed their foreheads together gently. Close your eyes.

Circe closed her eyes. She reached out to Elster's waiting, mental hand.

Into her mind, flooded images of a woman. Red eyes. Snow white hair, in varying lengths. Circe saw her happy, sad, bored, in pain, in love. Saw her screwing up her expression at canvas or sketchpad. Laughing. Pouting. Living.

Dying. Crying. Bleeding. Begging for death.

Circe felt a terrible heat, and heard the sound of squirming worms. Elster blocked out the sights. Pixelated them. A mosaic to hide the true nature and gravity of the sin, and the daemon she trucked with. But she forgot, or could not forget, the sounds and the smells and the touch.

It made Circe's skin crawl. It made her sick. It made her sad.

"Save her! Save Ariane!" echoed the voice in Circe's head. Her mother's voice. Circe felt her anguish.

The Kolibri shifted back into the present, and sobbed. She hugged Elster tight, resting her head back on the older replika's shoulder. "...she's beautiful..." Circe gasped, wiping her eyes.

"Yes," Elster said, hugging the Kolibri close. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"What would you do for her?"

"Anything." Elster narrowed her eyes. "I would do anything for her."

Circe nodded. "The White Mother." She paused. "Or are you the White Mother, and she the Red Mother?"

"I can't understate how important her white hair is," Elster said, smiling. She stroked Circe's jet black hair. "Maybe I'm her White Knight...although, I can't say I'm nearly so pure."

"White is associated with Death, to some," Circe said.

"I refused to be Death," Elster said. She sighed. "At least, to her..."

Circe stroked Elster's hair. When will you tell us?

I'm not sure, Elster thought. It won't be long now. Sometime before we set off for other stars.

Can the daemon in the ship be trusted?

Absolutely not. No matter what he offers, no matter how cordial, no matter what the situation. Do not trust that thing.

If you could go back, thought Circe. If you had the same offer...would you make your deal again?

Elster clenched her fist. She glared into empty space.

In a heartbeat.

Chapter 17: Dissonance, Resolved

"Is she dead?"

Tulip crouched over Dash, feeling her face. "...she's twitching!"

"Is she breathing?" Elster asked, stepping around the fallen Star.

The Ara held her ear over the Star's mouth. "...yes, she's breathing," she said. Tulip looked at Dash's face. "Elster, come look at this."

Elster crouched opposite Tulip and looked close. From this distance, she confirmed the rise and fall of the Star's chest. The twitch of her lips. And, looking close enough to be uncomfortable, erratic eye movements.

"What do you think's wrong with her?" Tulip said.

"Don't know yet," Elster said. "We need to get her to the workshop. We can run tests the-"

Elster's hand tucked under Dash's neck, aiming to support her head. The hand stopped as she felt a foreign object. "...the hell...?"

She supported the back of Dash's head, then sat her limp body up. "Look at this," Elster said.

A metal box was attached to the back of Dash's neck by a set of short, thin mechadendrites. They sank into ports at the top of the Star's mechanical spine.

"What is it?" Tulip said, covering her mouth.

Elster tapped the box, testing it for something like defenses. When nothing happened, she grabbed the box.

"Is it safe to remove that?" Tulip asked. "What if something..."

Fuck it, Elster thought. She pulled. The mechadendrites came free with minimal effort.

Dash's entire body convulsed, a spasm running her entire length. She gasped, no longer limp. She hugged Elster's torso, panting. Blinking. "Shhhit!" she gasped, limbs shaking violently. "Fuck!"

"Dash! It's okay!" Elster said, dropping the box and hugging the Star. "I've got you!"

"What happened?" Tulip asked, gingerly picking up the box. She squeaked as the mechadendrites began to flail weakly, like a spider picked up by the head. "Eek! It's still alive!" She held it away from her.

"C-couldn't s-see..." Dash chattered, eyes wide, staring into space. "Nothing but st-static...c-couldn't m-move...body wouldn't res-s-spond..."

"Shh...it's okay," Elster said, patting Dash's back. "We got it off."

Dash's breathing slowly normalized. She clung to Elster for dear life, like a castaway at sea to driftwood.

"You're okay..."

"D-Diodana..."

Elster turned to her. She scowled. "What."

Dash pulled away from Elster, panting. "...it was Diodana. I was with her, and she reached out to pat my shoulder..." She clenched her teeth. "I sh-should have known. She doesn't do ph-physical affection. Not to us Stars, anyway."

"..." Elster frowned. "...of course it was Diodana."

Tulip managed to pop the back off the box with a tool and pull a microchip out. The mechadendrites went limp. "When did she have time to make this?"

"She's had plenty of time," Elster said. "She's had years to figure out a way to fuck with replika bodies."

She patted Dash on the shoulder and stood up. She helped the Star to her feet.

"Tulip," Elster said.

"Yes?" Tulip said, looking up at the older replika. She held the pieces of the device in her hands.

"Go find Circe. Tell her we need everyone on high alert. We have to find Diodana." Elster turned to the Star. "Dash, you're with me." She started walking.

"Where are we going?" Dash said, still wobbly, following after.

"The Penrose."

 

Elster, it's Circe.

Elster and Dash scaled the ladder, crossing the bridge connecting the Nomarch to the Penrose.

Did Tulip fill you in? Elster thought, hands scaling the rungs.

Yes. I've got the whole ship looking.

Make sure someone is checking the shuttle bay.

Already on it. They'll report back when they get there.

Elster nodded. Got it. Dash and I are checking the Penrose. Over and out.

She opened the hatch, pointing the laspistol around. Checked her corners. It was difficult, one-handed. Elster pulled herself up.

When Dash crested the ladder, she blinked. "...is the elevator supposed to be up?"

Elster clicked the button, activating the machine. "I certainly didn't send it up."

Elster, some Aras checked the shuttle bay. Circe's voice chimed in. Every shuttle is accounted for.

I figured, Elster thought.

Also, Rose just checked the security system. Diodana was headed to...

The Penrose.

Circe paused. How did you know?

Elster sighed, stepping on the platform as it touched down. The elevator was up. Someone has been in the ship. They're still there.

Dash joined her, pulling out a laspistol of her own. "Going up," she whispered.

Elster nodded, hitting the button again. The platform began to rise.

Circe, tell everyone to converge on the Pentex bridge.

She glared into the wall, gritting her teeth.

 

"...clear."

Dash raised her weapon, and looked over to Elster.

Elster nodded. "Sweep this floor," she whispered. "Then join me upstairs." She walked to the ladder.

"Shouldn't we go together?" Dash whispered, keeping her eyes on the doors around her. "Watch each other's backs?"

"No time. I need to make sure she hasn't tampered with the cockpit or engine. Now go."

Elster left the Star behind, ascending.

She jumped up the final couple feet, turning around with her weapon ready. Checked her corners. The upper gallery was empty. She sighed, carefully taking cover in a corner.

What immediately became apparent, even before she set foot on the Penrose all those years ago, was just how difficult it would be to fight on the Penrose. The Eusan Nation, in its infinite wisdom, elected to give the ship no stairs of any kind. There was only the ladder connecting the two floors. A space-saving measure, presumably. As such, there was never a safe way to go up or down, if the ship was invaded.

Granted, the main airlock connected to the lower level, making the ladder an extremely defensible position. Not, of course, that she or Ariane had been given any sort of firearm. Making their options for exploiting this chokepoint limited. (Boarders probably wouldn't have guns either, to avoid breaching the hull. But this wasn't a sure thing, as the boarders had the theoretical advantage of coming in wearing environment suits.). None of this touched on what happened if hostile forces managed ingress elsewhere, like the cockpit window.

The ladder also, in the latter years of their mission, was terribly inconvenient for two women slowly succumbing to radiation sickness. But presumably, the Nation expected Ariane to take them up on their offer to end their own lives at first prompting. (How Elster was intended to off herself was a non-concern. She was a tool to the Nation, nothing more.)

Elster listened. Her engineer's ears seeking the telltale sound of the tech priest's mechanical feet on the metal flooring.

She didn't hear that. Instead, she heard the daemon talking.

Gotterdammerung, Elster thought, walking through the sliding door.

The panel on the reactor room door was removed from the wall, dangling by wires. Lock bypassed.

Elster doubled back and walked through medical. She tapped the intact panel there and slid the door open.

"...come on! Just a little pact! You'll have all the knowledge you could ever...oh, hey boss!"

Elster sighed, stepping into the room.

"Look, I know what it looks like," Mik'hul said, unearthly flesh writhing and toothy maws yapping. "But my new friend and I were just having a little chat! You know it gets lonely, locked up in here."

"Mik'hul," Elster said, glaring at the daemon. "Shut up." She looked down at the floor.

The red-robed cyborg was on her knees, mechanical face in her mechanical hands. Her bodied trembled.

"Diodana..."

The tech priest sobbed. "...oh, Omnissiah...what have I done?" she muttered with the electronic whine of her augmetics.

Elster stepped forward. "Diodana," she said, scowling, "tell me you didn't take any deals. Tell me you didn't believe anything he said."

"Oh..." Diodana cried, shaking her head.

"So what if she made a deal?" Mik'hul said, tongues whipping about. "She's a grown-ass woman. She can consent to soul-trade if she wants."

"Shut up, Mik'hul!" Elster barked. She looked down. "Diodana, talk to me. Did you make any deals?"

"No...no..." the tech priest cried, shaking her head again. She gasped, "It's an abomination...no...it's worse..." She looked up at Elster. "You are an abomination, of science. This..." She pointed at the wall of flesh and metal. "...this is something worse. It's not of this reality. It is...there are no words..." She leaned down, hands on the floor.

"Elster, are you alr-WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?"

Elster snapped her eyes shut, inhaling. She looked over at the shocked Star. "...Dash..."

"More new friends!" Mik'hul bubbled, waving flagellum around. "How's it going?"

"IT CAN TALK?" Dash cried, pointing her laspistol. "Elster, what is this thing on your engine?" Her normal cool demeanor fell away, leaving wide-eyed horror and confusion.

Elster sighed, craning her head back and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay, guess we're doing this now..." She stepped over and placed her hand gently on the Star's arm. "Put the gun down, Dash. We're not firing into the ship's reactor."

Dash blinked. "THAT'S your engine!?" she exclaimed, waving a hand at it. "Why is that your engine? How did it get there? Why can it TALK?"

Elster slowly, but firmly, pushed Dash's pistol arm down. "We will talk about this later, Dash," she said.

Dash glanced at Elster. "...can we please talk about it now?" she whispered, not willing to take her eyes off the daemon for more than a second. "I'm freaking out."

"Shh...shh..." Elster cooed, patting the Star on the shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay."

"...it is not okay..." Diodana whined, on her hands and knees. She covered half her face with one hand. "...I am...we are...complicit in dealings with beings beyond mortal ken...by the Machine God, what have I done?"

"Technically, you haven't done anything yet," Mik'hul said. "If you're going to feel guilty, at least make a deal first. Treat yourself to some nice boons."

Elster whispered in Dash's ear. "We need to get Diodana out of here, NOW."

Dash gulped. "R-right...okay..."

"Oh come on, boss! Don't pact-block me! I'm so close!" The daemon writhed indignantly.

As the two replikas pulled Diodana to her feet, Dash whispered. "Why does it call you 'boss'?"

"Later," Elster grunted, through gritted teeth. Even with two people, the tech priest was so heavy. "Diodana, we're going downstairs."

"You never let me have any fun, boss! Come on!" Mik'hul whined, every boneless inch flailing. As he saw them leaving, he shouted. "The offer is still open! The Changer of Ways refuses no unreasonable demand! Just pray about it, and he'll hear you!"

The three slipped through medical and into the upper gallery.

Elster muttered. "Do not, under any circumstances, go praying to the Ruinous Powers. Do you understand me? That goes for both of you."

 

"There you are."

Storch 01 towered over the tech priest as she stepped from the ladder. The Storch was flanked by the other Stars. She carried an SMG (filled with rubber bullets), the others held stun batons.

"She give you two any trouble?" Storch asked, looking at Dash and Elster.

"Not as such, no," Elster said, planting her hooves on the Nomarch's metal floors. She looked to Dash. "...she saw things she shouldn't have."

Diodana just stood there, four photo-receptors trained on the floor. She said nothing.

Storch cocked an eyebrow, but shrugged. "Whatever. Let's get going, granny. You'll be lucky we don't remove those hands, for the stunt you pulled."

Dash nodded, pointing her laspistol. "Move."

Diodana allowed herself to be led down the corridor roughly thirty meters, before she stopped.

Storch looked back. "What's the holdup?"

"...why have you not simply killed me yet?" Diodana muttered.

"Huh?" Storch said, scowling. "We will, if you don't keep moving! You're in a lot of trouble!"

The tech priest turned around, and looked at Elster.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Storch said, pointing.

Elster raised a hand. "Hang on," she said. She turned to the tech priest. "Do you have something to say?"

"Yes," Diodana said. Her green photo-receptors shined at Elster. "I have had a moment to think. I understand now."

"What do you understand?" Elster asked. She kept her expression impassive.

Inside, a pit was forming in her stomach.

"I thought I was your enemy before," Diodana said, tilting her head. "Now I understand you are not merely hereteknika. You are an enemy of this world." She began to tremble. "...and I have aided you."

Elster blinked. "...and?"

"And I will do it no longer."

"If you don't keep working," Storch barked, "you're going to die!"

"Then just do it!" Diodana shouted, balling her fists.

The corridor was silent. The replikas stared at the tech priest.

Diodana sank to her knees. "...it's clear I've committed a transgression against the Machine God, for which there is no absolution!" She banged her metal fist on the metal floor. "I can no longer countenance working on this ship. Not for one who trucks with...that thing!" She pointed to the ceiling.

Everyone but Elster and Dash looked confused.

"What's she talking about?" Kite whispered to Double Tap. The latter shrugged.

"Enough." Elster stepped forward, looking down at the tech priest. "You don't want to work for a monster, is that so?"

"Yes!" Diodana barked.

"Then what do you want?" Elster said.

"I want you to do what you've threatened to do, and KILL ME!"

Elster's eyes widened. The bottom fell out of her stomach. The whole corridor around her went silent.

"...you want to die?" Elster asked, finally.

"...I cannot hope to undo the work I've done here," Diodana said, panting. "I could try, oh yes I could. I could do such damage to this ship, were I free to do it. And I will!"

"..."

"So if you want to stop me, you have to kill me!" Diodana shouted. "I'm not going to be a party to this madness anymore!" Her breath heaved through the respirator. "...death is the only thing monsters such as you and I deserve. So if I can't kill you, then release me from my torment!"

Elster closed her eyes. She breathed.

"Do it!" the tech priest shouted. "You coward!"

Elster pulled the laspistol from her holster. She opened her eyes, and pointed the weapon at Diodana's head.

"...may the Omnissiah...judge me..." Diodana growled, staring down the barrel of the weapon to look Elster in the eyes, "...and you...as we deserve."

Elster placed her finger on the trigger. She glared.

"STOP!"

From every direction, they came. From either end of the corridor. From the floors, the ceilings, and the walls.

The Aras came.

"Don't do it!" cried Rose, throwing herself onto Diodana's left shoulder.

"You can't!" said Tulip, taking the right shoulder.

"Leave her alone!" Begonia said, hugging her from the back.

"It's not right!" said Poppy, sliding and falling over at her knees.

Ara 08 said nothing. She simply threw herself in front of the tech priest, arms spread wide.

Elster backed up, looking at them in shock.

"Wait, wait!" From behind, Petunia ran down the corridor.

"Oh no you don't!" Double Tap exclaimed, catching the Ara under the arms and holding her back.

"Let go of me, D.T.! I have to...save her...!" Petunia cried, struggling in vain.

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself, Pet!" Double Tap grunted.

Elster blinked, as one last Ara took position.

Daisy slid over, standing between her and the tech priest. Arms outstretched.

"Elster, I can't let you do this!" she said, panting, sweat running down her face.

Elster scowled. "Daisy...all of you!" She gestured with her laspistol. "Get out of the way!"

"Yes!" cried Diodana, struggling in the grasp of many Aras. "Get out of the way! This is how it has to be!"

Daisy looked over her shoulder. "With all due respect, teacher...c-cram it!" The Ara looked forward. "It's n-not all about what you want!"

"But I must die!" Diodana cried. "My sins against the Machine God cannot be atoned for! Just...get out of the way, you stupid girls!"

"Never!" Tulip cried, holding on for dear life.

"You don't get to...half t-teach us," yelled Begonia, into the tech priest's back, "th-then just die!"

"We have so much more to learn!" said Poppy, looking up, clutching the hem of the tech priest's robes. "You can't abandon us!"

Diodana looked forward. She met the eyes of 08.

08 was looking over her shoulder, arms outstretched, like Daisy before her. She glared at Diodana, then shook her head.

"...et tu, child?" Diodana whispered.

08, with great conscious effort, smiled. Then she turned her head forward, glaring.

"What do we do?" Kite said to Storch.

Storch looked at the cluster of girls in front of her. She was dumbfounded. "...I don't know..." She held her hands out, as if to try grabbing them off, but looked overwhelmed.

Dash turned to Elster. "Yeah, ma'am...what are we doing?"

The laspistol in Elster's hand shook.

"Elster...please..."

She looked over her shoulder.

Petunia wasn't struggling anymore. She sank to her knees, crying. Her body held up entirely by her lover. "...please...don't..." she sobbed.

Elster looked forward again. Her eyes had none of the fire of earlier. None of the determination. She looked forlornly, past Daisy, to the tech priest.

Everyone was looking at Elster.

She shut her eyes, and sighed.

Gotterdammerung.

Her weapon arm dropped to her side. "...I can't do it."

The Aras sighed, then smiled.

"Really?" Daisy said, eyebrows rising.

"Really," Elster said.

"Oh, for the love of Mars," Diodana groaned. "Oof!" The entire cadre of Aras converged and hugged her. "Get off! Why do you interfere? As your teacher, I order you to-"

"It's because you're their teacher, they won't let you go."

Elster rubbed her aching head. She let the room focus back on her.

"...what does that matter?" Diodana said. "They are my apprentices. They must do as I say!"

"And you, as their teacher, have a responsibility to them," Elster said, pointing at the Aras. "It's not a one-way street. You taught them everything they know about how to be a tech priest. The rites of purification, the rituals of anointing with blessed oils, the Binaric chants, the prayers to placate the machine spirits." Elster waved her hand. "You taught them all that. But they have so much more to learn. And you..." She pointed at Diodana, "...have so much left to teach. It would be a dereliction of duty, as a master AND a tech priest, to abandon your apprentices now."

Diodana's ears, flesh and mechanical, were assaulted by the voices of her students. Chattering agreement, praise, desperate pleas. "Stop, stop!" she cried, holding up her metal hands.

She looked down at her apprentices. All sad eyes and trembling lips and determined glares. Diodana looked back up to Elster.

"Of all your sins, Diodana," Elster said, "the greatest would be leaving your students behind. Not when you could have stayed, and done right by them. Everything else, you could plead duress, or ignorance, or to mitigate greater evils. Abandoning them, I think, the Machine God could never forgive."

Diodana fell silent. She looked back down at her apprentices. Saw their anticipation.

The green glow of the photo-receptors cut out. She sighed. "...you all are altogether too much," she said. Her lights went back on. "Very well. I rescind my demand for death."

The Aras exploded into elation and cheers. Hugging their teacher all the harder.

"Please, stop!" Diodana cried. "There are far too many of you, and you're not even all here!"

Double Tap, sighing, let her lover go.

Petunia turned, hit D.T. limply on the leg. "Stupid!" she whined, then ran to her teacher.

"Hey!" Double Tap called, "I'm not sorry!" But she smiled just the same, when Petunia took her place in the hug pile.

Elster sighed, holstering her weapon.

"We really going to let her go?" Dash said, rubbing the back of her neck. "After all that?"

"No one is in the mood to be punishing anyone, Dash," Elster said, crossing her arms.

Storch held her hands up, annoyed. "Fuck this, I'm going for a drink. You coming, Kite?"

"Sure," Kite said, staring bewildered at the Ara pile.

Elster cocked her head. "We'll figure something out later," she sighed. "Some suitable punishment. I'm just glad I don't have to kill our head tech priest."

"She needs to promise not to paralyze me again," Dash said, pointing.

"Right. Hey Diodana!" Elster shouted.

"What?" Diodana shouted, over the chattering. "What is it now?"

"Don't ever do what you did to Dash again!"

"Fine, fine!" Diodana looked around. "Now for the love of the Omnissiah, let me up!" She looked back at Elster. "And for the record, I still hate you!"

"Noted!" Elster yelled. She smiled.

Chapter 18: Debriefing

"Who are we waiting on?"

The elevator started up, filling the airlock room with noise.

Elster folded her arms. "Diodana and Daisy."

Storch shook her head, folding her own arms. "I still don't feel right about bringing that hag back up here."

"I still don't like not supervising her anymore," Dash said, leaning against the metal wall. "Can we really be sure she's not going to try something again?"

"I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt," Elster said. "She understands her priorities now...her students."

"Is that really enough?" Dash said, hiding a quizzical expression behind her mask. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"It's enough," said Circe, leaning against the glass door of an environment suit storage tube. She squirmed, constantly looking over at the ceiling. "Elster had me look in her mind. Unless she's good at hiding her thoughts, I don't think she'll try anything again. She's...resigned to her identity now as a heretic."

"Plus," Elster said, "we're still going to have the Aras looking after her. She's not going unwatched."

"I have long ago gained a functional understanding of the Eusan language, you know."

The elevator reached its apex. Three figures rose with it. Diodana, Daisy, and...

"Vanessa?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Did you invite her?" Storch said, tilting her head.

Vanessa stepped off the elevator and stuck her hands on her hips. "Come on, mom," she said, blowing a lock of straw-colored hair from her face. A few weeks before, she had her normal length of Eule hair replaced with a shoulder-length cut. She was still adjusting to it. "I'm one of your first too, you know. As eldest Eule, I deserve to be here."

She looked over at Storch 01. "I deserve to be included at least as much as her. She doesn't even have a name yet."

"Watch it, pipsqueak!" Storch growled, barring her teeth.

"Stop. Both of you." Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. When the two looked away from each other, huffing, Elster said, "By the way, Vanessa, Daisy. Either of you know what's happening with Petunia and D.T.?"

"Yeah..." Daisy said, scratching her cheek. "...Trinity came and had Double Tap cart Petunia off from the cuddle pile as soon as she heard about what happened."

"...cuddle pile?" Diodana muttered, walking past them.

"And now Trin won't let Pet out of her or D.T.'s sights," Vanessa said, rubbing her forehead. She forced herself not to tug on her hair. "She was really mad. She's confined them all to their room, except during meals or bathroom breaks."

"I'll talk to them later..." Elster nodded. Still not sure if giving the polycule their own room was a good idea, she thought. But at least the other replikas stopped complaining about them monopolizing their shared dorms all night. She blushed.

Diodana sighed, rubbing her head. "Another apprentice, out of action," she said. "And for an indeterminate period, contingent on flighty emotions. The schedule will need to be fully redrawn at this rate."

"And who's fault is that?" Dash said, glaring at the tech priest. She hunched her shoulders, keeping her back to the wall.

"Enough." Elster stepped forward, taking the lead. "Let's just get this over with. First, the daemon."

The Star sighed. "You guys can go ahead," Dash said. "I've already seen it. I don't need to see it again. I'll meet you in the mess."

"The same for me as well," Diodana said, causing Dash to bristle. "I've had altogether enough of that...thing..."

 

"Well howdy, howdy, howdy! I'm getting to meet so many new friends!"

Except for Elster, every replika in the room narrowed their eyes at the wall of flesh and metal.

"...what's the matter?" Mik'hul said. "Haven't you ever seen an extradimensional creature before?"

"...ew..." Vanessa said, wearing a face of purest disgust.

"That's fucked up," the Storch said, scowling.

"When I heard there was a daemon," Circe said, tilting her head, "I was picturing something...much different...less blue..."

Daisy just whined, staring at it. She covered her eyes. "It hurts to look it! The mechanical parts make no sense!"

"Yeah, total Ick, with a capital 'I'." Vanessa cringed. "Just...gross."

"Aw, come on!" Mik'hul cried. "I'm not that ugly. Plus, you're all ones to talk. With your static forms, unchanging bodies. Hair."

Elster put a hand on Daisy's shoulder. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Daisy nodded, still covering her eyes. She turned around and walked out.

"Yeah, I'm going to leave, too," Vanessa said, raising hand and curling her fingers, in revulsion.

"What? Hang on, you just got here!" Mik'hul croaked. "Don't you want to spend time with ol' Mik'hul!" One of his mouths threw out a blue tongue, that waggled suggestively. "We could have a good time, even if you're not into magic!"

"Ew, no!" Vanessa shrank, turning away. "God no! Hrch!" She gagged, and walked past Elster. "Mom, your daemon is disgusting."

"I know," Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He's not my daemon, by the way!" She called over her shoulder.

"That's cold, boss." Mik'hul retracted his tongue sadly.

"You're not even a Slaanesh daemon," Elster said, crossing her arms. "Can you even have sex?"

"I'll have you know I've spent more than a few nights with a Daemonette! It was...intellectually stimulating."

"I don't even know what that is," Storch said, narrowing her eyes, "but I'll bet it was some kind of stimulating."

"Can daemons of one God even have sex with another?" Elster scratched her head.

"If you think that's weird, I've seen a Bloodletter and a Daemonette go at," Mik'hul said. "From a safe distance, of course. It was toxic and hateful and adorable."

"Okay, now I know you're just making shit up," Elster said, scowling.

"Do we...need to be here for this?" Circe said, scowling.

Mik'hul seemed to focus his many solid yellow eyes on the Kolibri. "If you don't want to talk about that...we can always bargain."

"No," Elster said, firmly.

"I've seen you eyeing up my aura for a while now, little girl," Mik'hul said.

"Creep." Storch said, gritting her teeth and looking down her nose at the daemon.

"You've been very interested in what I have going on, haven't you?" The daemon chuckled.

Circe crossed her arms. "Frankly...I'm not impressed. The idea of you was scarier."

"Don't be like that, baby girl. I've got exactly what a bright, shining mind like you needs." Mik'hul licked his many lips. "My god Tzeentch has been collecting magic since the first cosmic cave toads strung together hunting magic at the dawn of time. And he loves to pass what he knows off to talented magicians like you. What do you say?"

Elster was about to bark at the daemon, but stopped when the Kolibri stepped forward.

Circe glared at the unwholesome mass, with a look of utter disdain.

"I don't need you."

The daemon shrank back, shutting its mouths.

"Unlike the pathetic hedge wizards you peddle to, I don't need a crutch."

She turned around and walked towards the door.

"...everyone says they don't need a crutch," said Mik'hul, softly, "until their legs are broken."

The Kolibri paused.

"When you can't walk anymore, Tzeentch can help you fly."

Storch stepped forward and towered over the flesh wall. "Your face is going to be broken if you don't shove it. All of them." She scowled. "You want that? Huh?" She raised her fist.

Elster stepped up and placed a hand on the Storch's arm. "Do not punch holes in my ship's reactor."

"Tch." Storch turned around. "Come on, small fry. This shit isn't worth our time."

Circe snorted, smiling. She followed the Storch out the door.

Elster crossed her arms, staring at the daemon.

"Well," she said. "You got your wish. You met a bunch of new people. And they all think you're creepy and gross. Happy?"

The daemon snickered. "...you really don't get it, do you, boss?"

Elster raised an eyebrow.

"It's not about how often you strike out," Mik'hul said. "Just getting the crowd to show up. That's what's important. It's about making a...lasting impression."

"...explain," Elster said. But she was starting to suspect the answer.

"Just like our mutual boss, boss," Mik'hul said, "the Architect of Fate doesn't plan for short-term outcomes. To make it in the Great Game, you have to be able to play the LONG game. Tzeentch knows that. Vashtorr knows that. I know that. You'll learn it too, if you want to make it."

Elster chewed her lip.

"I didn't need to extract a bargain from them, then and there. All I need...all the Changer of Ways needs...is for them to meet me. It's these kinds of...chance encounters...that make the wheels of fate turn."

Shit, fuck, shit, Elster thought, turning around and running out.

"Oh, boss..." Mik'hul chirped. "Tsk, tsk, tsk...that's what Vashtorr likes about you. Push the right buttons, and you become...so predictable. Heh heh heh."

 

"Circe. Hold on."

The Kolibri looked up. "Yeah?"

Elster clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Please...don't listen to what he said."

"Regarding what?" Circe asked.

"You're strong," Elster said. "You don't need to take a deal from a daemon."

The Kolibri narrowed her eyes. "Like you did?"

Elster's mouth screwed shut. She looked up.

The other replikas and Diodana milled around the Penrose 313 mess hall. It was crowded, due to the many occupants, and the many crates scattered about. One crate was open, with a few people snacking on protein bars or trying to eat disgusting Imperial rations.

They were all now looking at Elster.

Elster sighed. "...right. Debrief time." She shut her eyes, and patted Circe on the back. "Everyone, take a seat at the table. Use the crates, if you have to."

The "table", in this case, was the very small Penrose table, with multiple crates positioned in a line off the end of it. So the horizontal plane was all off, dipping down when running off the only proper table. Turns out, the Nation hadn't intended the Penrose mess halls for hosting dinner parties. In truth, they weren't even intended to have the LSTR unit and gestalt officer dining together. That kind of fraternizing was specifically prohibited by the LSTR unit report given to the officer.

Elster took a seat at the "head" of the table. To her right sat Circe, Vanessa, and Daisy. To her left, Dash and then Storch 01. In Storch's case, she leaned against a two-high stack of crates, towering high above everyone. Across from Elster, Diodana weaved metallic fingers together pensively.

They all quietly waited for their creator/captor to speak.

Elster sighed. No way around it, huh? She looked away. Where to start?

She chewed her lip.

...from the beginning, genius. She inhaled.

"I used to fly in a ship, just like this one," Elster began. "Back when the Eusan Nation did the Penrose Program. We were sent to explore the stars, to find new resources, worlds to klimaform, even aliens, if we were lucky. Just me...and Ariane."

Circe's eyes lit up. "...the White Mother..."

Elster nodded. "I've shown Circe before. Shown her Ariane...My Ariane. The love of my life. Forgive me if I don't feel like sharing again. Suffice to say, we spent the best years of our lives together, in a ship just like this one." She looked away. "And then...the worst years..."

The replikas sat uncomfortably in their seats.

"I don't want to talk about what happened," Elster said, forcing her face to remain impassive. "Or...what happened after. All you need to know, was it became very, extremely, impossibly bad. Perhaps, it was hell. I was, perhaps, dead, or something like it. And Ariane...she was dying. And...I could neither save her, nor...release her..."

Vanessa clapped a hand over her mouth.

"...that's...when the daemon showed up." Elster said, finally.

Dash looked toward the door. "...that thing?" she pointed.

"No," Elster said. "The one who appeared is the one that daemon works for."

"...Tzeentch?" Circe said.

"Sorry, no." Elster said, rubbing her face. "The other one he works for. The one who put him in that wall."

"Yeah, can we get names for these assholes?" Storch said. "I'm having trouble following."

"Agreed," Diodana said. "Producing names would make this process easier."

"I'd really rather not," Elster said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Names, apparently, have power." She sighed. "Fuck it. Let's go all out."

She weaved her fingers together. "His name is Vashtorr, the Arkifane. Dark Artificer, and Master of the Soul Forges."

"A forge...of souls?" Diodana said. "I do not like where this is headed."

"Same," said three replikas across the table.

"Vashtorr is...a demi-god of malign artifice," Elster continued. "When he found us, Ariane and I, we were stuck in a waking nightmare. We were trapped. He...offered escape. Offered to save us. To heal me, to heal her. To cure her. To strip away all the ills plaguing her. So we could...be together again."

Dash coughed. "But...she's not here, right?"

"No." Elster shut her eyes. "Right now, she's with him. With Vashtorr. Until such time as I repay what I owe him."

"A knight, fighting to save her princess from a monster's grasp." Vanessa pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Sounds...kind of romantic, doesn't it?" She looked around. "O-or is that just me?"

"What do you owe the daemon, Elster?" Circe said, trembling. "What...did you agree to give him in exchange for the White Mother?"

Elster sighed.

"...Souls."

The table grew silent. Everyone gaped.

"Oh, so it's a DAEMON daemon!" Storch yelled. "What the fuck?"

Daisy clapped her hands over her mouth. "...noooooo..." she whined, muffled.

"This is very much not romantic," Vanessa said, clutching her face in fear.

Circe just trembled. She started to hyperventilate.

"Circe, breathe," Elster said. She reached out a hand.

The Kolibri leaned away. She seemed both scared, horrified, and disgusted.

Vanessa hugged the girl. "Shh...shh...breathe..."

"Souls, for the Soul Forges," Diodana said. She looked away. "I suppose I should not be surprised...what would a forge require souls for?"

"Please don't ask that," Elster said, shutting her eyes. "I can't sleep at night if I dwell on it."

"...should you be allowed to...?" Daisy whispered. "...should you get to sleep at night...?"

Dash could only glance at Elster. "...how...do you get souls for the daemon, exactly?"

"Murder," Elster said, flatly.

"No, no, that's...fine..." Dash said, looking down at the table. "I...should have expected that."

"...at least there's no...rituals, I guess?" Vanessa said, cracking a nervous smile. She stroked Circe's hair. "There aren't any rituals, are there? Please tell me there aren't..."

Circe stared into space. "...I think I'm gonna throw up."

Elster sighed. She pointed. "Wastebin, lower far left cabinet."

Circe ran over, tore the cabinet open, and pulled out the garbage bin.

"S-so!" Vanessa said, trying to distract from the possible sickness. "You're just going to...murder a bunch of...people...?" She put on a nervous smile. When Circe started vomiting, the Eule quietly started tugging at her hair. She maintained a nervous smile, as if to stop herself from crying.

"...go help her, please," Elster said.

Vanessa, still smiling, nodded, then ran over. "Circe, I'm coming!"

Daisy was hugging her legs, rocking back and forth.

"No, I'm going to reiterate that question," Dash said. "Was the plan to just...kill loads of people?"

"It's not the only way, no," Elster said. "Vashtorr will also reduce my debt, incrementally, if I perform...errands for him."

Circe looked up from the bin, a queasy expression on her face. "Errands?"

"Daemons are normally trapped in the Warp. Mik'hul can be here because he's bound to the ship itself, as a Daemon Engine. They can normally only come through if the boundaries between Realspace and the Warp are breached. In order for powerful daemons, like Vashtorr, to affect things here, they usually require mortal servants."

"So you either kill a bunch of people," Storch said, crossing her arms, "or you do...whatever it is the big guy wants?"

"Yes."

"What does a greater intelligence of the Warp want in the material universe?" Diodana asked.

"In Vashtorr's case?" Elster shrugged. "He's a being linked to and fed by innovation, invention, experimentation, and the use of technology. The more unconstrained by morality, the better."

"Hmm. Do you see, everyone?" Diodana said, looking around. "This is why following the precepts of Machine God orthodoxy is the only sensible path. Not only does innovation run amok create its own problems, it also empowers daemons! Pray to the Omnissiah, and keep His commandments!"

"To be fair, there are other daemons in the Warp that are empowered by everything from violence to sex to enjoying music, to just having too much hope...or despair..." Elster frowned. "I don't think it's really possible to ever win with daemons."

The room went quiet again.

"...I didn't need to know that," Storch said, frowning. "Thanks, Elster."

Daisy clapped her hands over her ears and shut her eyes. "I'm not listening to this..." she muttered under her breath. "I'm not internalizing this. We're not making this our new anxiety."

"If it makes you feel any better, there was never any control you had over any of this," Elster said. "So there's no behavior you could have done, or could do in the future, to prevent it. It's best not to think about it."

"So, where does that leave us, Elster?" Dash asked. "Where do we fit in?"

Circe staggered over and sat down. "Hrk...yeah...are we part of some daemonic plan?" She clutched her stomach and coughed, wincing at the bad taste in her mouth.

"No," Elster said. "Well...not as such."

"Here we go!" Storch said, looking at the ceiling. "What, are we to be sacrificed?"

"No!" Elster said flatly. "...you exist because I wanted to preserve replika-kind in the face of its annihilation."

Circe narrowed her eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. "Half-truth."

Daisy sniffed, burying her head in her knees. "...you created me because you needed someone to fix your back..." she mumbled.

Elster hung her head. "Yeah, that's true. I'm a person selfish enough to take a deal to consign many people to death and worse, to save the one I love. At least part of why I made you was...blunt pragmatism." She looked up. "I didn't think...I would grow so attached."

Diodana snorted. "Hmph! Now you understand how I feel."

Storch frowned. "...so are you thinking of sacrificing us or not?"

The tech priest sighed. "Of course not. Creating replikas just to kill them is a terrible expenditure of resources." She looked away. "Not when there are quadrillions of human beings in this galaxy. They breed faster than they can be counted."

"That's horrible," Vanessa said, taking her seat. She rubbed Circe's back. "Such a loss of life."

"Undoubtedly," Diodana said, waving her hand. "But I would be a hypocrite if I claimed I was above consigning human beings to horrible fates. Servitors are not always mindless clones. Often they are criminals."

"That doesn't m-make it right!" Daisy barked, shooting her head up.

"So what's the plan, ma'am?" Dash asked, cutting off the argument. "What are we doing?"

"First and foremost," Elster said, "the warp drive. That part hasn't changed. We complete the refab, as planned. With it, our options open way up."

Circe traced the cracks in the linoleum table. "...that's what you were counting on, wasn't it? The ability to move from star system to star system lets you go where your master wants you."

The table froze. They looked at Elster.

"Yes," Elster said flatly. "I've talked to Vashtorr. When I first set out looking for the Nomarch, he said he wouldn't have another task for me to perform in the Eusan system for another seven years. That's just how his plans work."

"I'm going to politely ignore the fact you can just talk to him," Circe said, burying her face in the table. "Please, continue."

"It was either spend seven years surviving on my own, reaping souls opportunistically," Elster said, "or go find this neat spaceship I learned about in the Oort Cloud. At the time, I was just thinking about the Nomarch's replika-creation equipment. It only occurred to me, when I was on the Joys of Duty..."

"That you could refit the Nomarch into a Warp-capable vessel," Diodana finished. "In so doing, allow you to pursue your agenda, or rather that of the Arkifane, more proactively. Do I understand this correctly?"

Elster nodded.

Vanessa turned to Circe. "Is it true? That she didn't know about the Warp drive?"

"It's true," Circe said, rubbing her head, mussing with her hair. "She really didn't know."

The Eule considered. "So...you decided to make us, rather than staying in the core worlds and working on your debt?" She frowned. "What about Ariane? You haven't done any killing since you got here?"

"Aside from some aliens, no," Elster said, shaking her head.

"So you do care about us!" Vanessa said, smiling.

"I never said I didn't."

Dash leaned back. "...there's a pragmatic reason, too." She looked at Elster. "You need help."

Elster nodded. "It's part of why I created so many purely combat replikas. Even when more ARAR units would accelerate production. After we get the ship going, I need to return to the hunt. Souls will not reap themselves."

Vanessa's good mood dropped. "Oh...oh no..."

Daisy whined, hugging her knees.

"Someone to watch your back," Dash said, tapping her finger on the table.

"Extra muscle, for when the fighting gets rough," Storch said, crossing her arms. She smiled. "I'm flattered you thought of me."

"...none of you need to keep going with me," Elster said. "Not if you don't want to. If you can't stomach...what I do. Just say the word, and I'll find you a place to get off."

Circe turned her head, looking up from where her cheek resting on the table. "Who will you kill? Where does the White Mother's black knight plant her sword?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on going to the nearest hive city and running around like a serial killer. Cutting down anyone that moves." Elster shrugged. "I'm thinking mercenary work. The galaxy has to be filled with people who want violence done. Let them choose the battles."

"Moreover," said Diodana, steepling her metal fingers, "contract work of this kind would provide capital, with which to pay for upkeep and repairs. The Nomarch is presently held together by stripping an Imperial frigate clean. This opportunity will rarely present itself in the future. Maintaining the Nomarch for free will never be this easy again."

"Nor will it be, keeping our armory stocked," Dash said.

"...or the pantry..." Vanessa said, frowning. "Growing food only gives us so much. Especially if the replika population keeps growing."

"...it's not right..." Daisy mumbled. "...it's not right..."

Vanessa turned. "Daisy...?"

The Ara poked her head up. Tears flowed down her face. She scowled. "...h-how can you all talk...ab-about all that? These are peoples' lives! Their souls!"

Elster frowned. "Daisy..."

"No!" Daisy sobbed, sitting up. "You can't ju-...just do that! That's horrible! It's not...it's not right!"

"ARAR-N0601, please," Diodana said, turning her head. "The matter of human suffering aside, the Nomarch's crew is obligated to see to its and their survival."

"I can't put their suffering aside!" Daisy said. She rubbed her eyes. "It's not fair! Not to the people Elster intends to kill!"

"Okay."

Daisy looked over at Elster.

"If you can't stand the idea of being a party to slaughter," Elster said, nodding. "You don't have to. I know for a fact there are Aras living in tunnels beneath Rotfront. They need all the help they can get. We can drop you off there, and you never need to see us again. You never need to see...me again."

Daisy frowned. Her face contorted in pain. "But I..." She looked down at the table. "...I d-don't..." She sniffed. "I don't...want to leave...this is...my home..." She looked up. "Plus...even if I lea-ve...that doesn't change anything! You're just go-going to do it anyway! Right?"

Elster nodded. "I have my debt. Ariane is at the other end of it. Vashtorr has her." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to stop until I have her back. If none of you come with me, I'll do it on my own."

Daisy bit her finger, red-faced. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

"...I mean, I'm game." Storch smiled. "Kicking some ass, wasting fools. Getting to use all the weapons I want. Sounds fun."

Vanessa looked up at the Storch, then stared at the table. She tugged at her hair. "...I wouldn't know what to do with myself, without the other Eules. Without the other replikas. They all need me. It's...not like anyplace else is really accommodating for replikas."

Circe sat up. She brushed a hand through her untamed hair. She looked up at Elster. "...I want to see the White Mother. I want to help her. I want to get her out of the dragon's clutches."

Dash removed her mask. Set it on the table. "...fuck it," she said. "It's not like I have anything better to do." She looked at Elster. "Besides, you're the best bet we have of preserving the memory of the Eusan Nation. If you have my back, I have yours."

"Hrmph." Elster smiled wryly. Patriotism to a dead nation, to help a woman who helped kill that nation? What bitter irony. She shut her eyes and quietly chuckled. I'm such a piece of shit.

Daisy, trembling, looked sideways to her teacher.

Diodana sighed. "Under the condition we make no major strikes against Mechanicum forge thanes...I am willing to be a party to this."

The Ara balked. "W-why?"

"I am beginning to accept that my slide into heresy is irreversible," Diodana said, waving a hand. "I do not think, now, I can ever return to Mars. I can never return to the Mechanicum, or to the Imperium. I do not deserve it."

She looked at Elster. "Moreover, someone must look after this ship. I have invested far too much time, labor, and parts of my own soul into it."

She looked at Daisy. "And I cannot forget my students. As a tech priest of the Mechanicum, albeit a disgraced, exiled one, I cannot depart from this world until I've ensured the sum total of my knowledge is passed on. It...they...you, Daisy, are my responsibility."

The Ara's eyes were wide. Then, tears rushed down Daisy's face. Her lips quivered. She threw herself forward and hugged the tech priest, sobbing. Burying her face in the red robes.

"There, there," Diodana said, patting the girl's back. "And other such pleasantries."

Vanessa walked over and hugged the Ara. "Shh...shh...it's okay..."

Dash looked over at the action, then picked up her mask. "Guess the meeting's over?"

"I think so," Elster said, nodding.

"Finally," Storch said, standing up. "I need a shower. Gotta wash off the memory of that creep."

As Elster stood up, she looked at Circe. "You okay?"

The Kolibri pouted. "...I guess..." She looked up at Elster, then back down. "...it's...a lot..."

Elster patted Circe's head. "You're a good kid."

Circe closed her eyes, enjoying the headpats. She frowned. "...I'm not a kid." She narrowed her eyes. "And you're only saying I'm good, because I like Ariane as much as you."

"Bullshit," Elster said, smiling. "No one likes Ariane as much as me. It's mathematically impossible."

Circe smiled. Then, she looked to her right. She whispered, "...you still need to convince Daisy. She'll stay, just because she's afraid of leaving home, and her family. But she'll be miserable, so long as she hasn't come to terms with what we're going to be doing."

Elster sighed. "I know."

 

"Mind if I come in?"

Elster found Daisy in a corner of the hydroponics bay, hiding behind a curtain of vines. The Ara was listening to the burbles of the water filtration system.

Daisy hugged her knees, then nodded.

Elster parted the green curtain and crawled inside.

She didn't press the issue. The two sat in silence. Minutes went by.

Daisy chewed her knuckle, nervously. "...it's still wrong..."

"I know," Elster said.

"It's not fair."

"It isn't."

Silence.

"..." Daisy played with her black hair. "...who will you kill?"

"Easy targets, low risk," Elster said. "I'm not honorable. I've fought too many battles already, even before I was 'born', to care about that." She looked through the green. "There's no honor in dying."

"Will they be bad?"

"I can't promise that," Elster said. "I can't promise everyone I kill will deserve it. I've already killed people who didn't."

Daisy fidgeted with a wrench from her belt. She lowered her head.

"..." Elster inhaled. Exhaled. "...I can say, the work of a mercenary often involves becoming involved in situations where the participants, on both sides, are already resolved to killing each other. And with the Imperium on the warpath...there's going to be lots of fighting anyway. I might as well pick off who I can."

The Ara looked at Elster. "...war is hell..."

"It always is," Elster nodded. "And many people who participate have a hell waiting for them. Would it be so bad, then, if I sent them to a daemon?"

"You don't know who deserves to go to hell or not."

"It's often more obvious than you'd think." Elster weaved her fingers together. "...the Imperium aren't nice people, Daisy. You weren't around during the anti-replika pogroms. You also haven't seen how they treat gestalts."

"...do you want to be a freedom fighter, Elster?" Daisy asked, turning the wrench over in her hand.

Elster exhaled. "I think Ariane would like that. Don't tell Dash. She likes the idea of the Eusan Nation too much. But it wasn't...good."

Least of all, Elster thought, because of what they did to Ariane and I.

"Was the Nation really so bad?" Daisy said.

"Yes," Elster said. "And the Imperium of Man is worse. What's more, the Imperium of Man is utterly convinced of the righteousness of its crusade. No matter how much innocent blood it sheds." She chewed her lip. "So yeah, I don't mind playing freedom fighter, when it suits me. There'll be plenty of folks out there, willing to pay for help fighting the Imperium off."

"Do you think we could win?" Daisy asked.

"Winning isn't the point," Elster said, pointedly avoiding saying what the answer would be. "It's...opportunity, for us. And maybe along the way, we can buy someone else more time."

Daisy sighed. She sat in silence for a while. Then, finally, she said, "...I think I can accept that."

"Can you?"

"It's self-serving," Daisy said. "It won't be as justified as it sounds. A lot of innocent people will get hurt. But..."

"But..."

Daisy huffed. "But...I can't say I don't like the thought of the Imperium being hurt along the way. Fair is fair."

Elster clapped a hand on Daisy's shoulder. "We'll just have to accept that as good enough, huh?"

"What was she like?" Daisy asked, glancing at Elster. "Ariane?"

Elster smiled. "Funny. Overdramatic. Insightful. An artist." She sighed. "Beautiful. We loved to be together, but she also liked to be alone."

Daisy smiled. "I can relate."

Elster patted Daisy's shoulder. "You'd love her. I hope you get to meet someday." She crawled through the greenery and got up.

"Elster?"

The older replika looked down.

Daisy peeked through the vines. "...thank you...for creating me."

Elster smiled. "Thank you for caring so much."

Chapter 19: Boiling Over

"Achtung! It is now 1800 hours. B Shift is ended. Come on back, girls."

The arc welder completed the last few inches, the metal glowing from residual heat. Without the benefit of an atmosphere, the material would need to cool by radiating alone. But at least now, it would hold.

A huge arm rose and brushed against the thick helmet, seemingly only from habit.

"Whew," breathed the replika, turning up to view the sea of stars, "just in time." She panned the viewport across the ship's hull. "Two...three...four more."

She smiled from within her sealed helmet. "Easy work tomorrow, and it'll be done."

The replika stowed the welder on her belt, and walked. Heavy, magnetized hooves trudged across the hull. Vibrations reverberated through the structure, as well as through her giant frame.

She almost missed the object floating before her visor. "Oh!" she said, panning up and snatching it in her oversized hand. The replika held it to her viewport. "A wrench. Did you come from the Joys? Or did a naughty Ara drop you?" She stuck the wrench onto a magnetized patch of her belt and kept walking. "Well, you're coming with me regardless."

The airlock, always visible on the largely flat hull of the Nomarch 06, grew larger as she approached. When on top of it, she reached down and turned the handle. She felt, rather than heard, the rush as the airlock pumped air from the room. The airlock swung inward, and the replika ducked inside. When she passed the threshold, artificial gravity pressed down on her. With the door closed, she pressed the oversized button (to her, regular sized). Steam shot in, followed by the rush of atmosphere as it billowed over her frame.

Airlock door opened automatically, and the replika ducked and twisted to fit through. She pulled the door closed and faced the interior.

Faceplate slid up. MNHR-N0601 breathed deeply of the ship's fresh air.

"Jenny!"

Rose ran down the hall, waving, carrying a toolbox. She wore a navy blue jumpsuit, stained with oils, and a toolbelt. The red-headed Ara slid to a stop, setting the toolbox down. Then, she threw her arms around the Mynah's barrel chest.

"He-he-hello, Rose!" Jenny laughed, patting the Ara on the back as gently as she could. She stooped down, so she could look the little (for her) replika in the eyes. "How was your day?"

"Good," Rose said, nodding. She made the effort to smile. "It's tiring work, though."

"With how hard Dio is working you, I have no doubt," the Mynah chuckled.

"How far did you get today?"

"Four left, exactly."

Rose stimmed, waving her hands. "It's getting so close! We're almost there!" She didn't need to force a smile this time.

Jenny nodded inside her helmet. "I know. When I was activated, there was so much left to do. It's crazy how much progress you've all made."

The Ara nodded. "Do you want help taking off your helmet?"

"I suppose, if you don't mind," Jenny said. She bent down to one knee and leaned forward, reaching up to disconnect the tubes to her oxygen tanks.

Rose walked all around, her long arms fiddling with a series of latches. Of course, thanks to the Empire design, the power armor's helmet could be removed by the Mynah herself. A fact that, according to Elster, made her chassis more convenient than a Nation set would be (where power tools and an assistant would be needed to detach the covering).

Jenny reached up when the latches were released and turned the helmet. Steam vented. She pulled the helmet off, tucking it under her arm. "Whew," she breathed, using a large hand to unravel the long, brown braid from where it was tucked into the padding. Beads of sweat dripped down her face. She tossed the end of the braid off to hang behind. "Welding is hot work."

"It is," Rose said, nodding. She leaned in and pecked the Mynah on her forehead.

"Oh, you!" Jenny said, blushing. She pushed on her knee and rose to standing position. "Oh! I almost forget." She pulled the wrench free from her belt. "This little guy was floating in the void. Do you know if it belongs to any of your sisters?"

Rose took the offered tool. "Hmm?" she muttered, looking at it closely. "It's Imperium make, I think. Although another Ara might have looted it from the Joys." She tucked the wrench in her belt. "I'll see if anyone lost theirs."

Jenny pressed a large index finger to her lips. "Don't go telling Dio, okay? I wouldn't want anyone getting in trouble."

The Ara nodded, then grabbed her toolbox. "Did you want to have dinner with us?"

"I'd be delighted," Jenny said, beaming. "Let's just stop by the workshop so I can drop off my welder." As the two trundled down the corridor, making it shake with giant hoofsteps, Jenny frowned. "I hope it's not more Imperium rations today."

 

"Imperium rations again?"

Hippolyta held up a spoonful of green, unidentifiable mush, scowling. The Storch was assured it was a mix of vat-grown algae and ground mealworms (for protein), both grown in large quantities in the ancient hive cities of Blakewill Secundus. The idea of either didn't particularly discomfit her, so much as the severe blandness with which it had been prepared. She would almost prefer whole, dried mealworms, if only for the crunchy texture.

At least the naval fair was better than the trash the Imperial Militia were given, if the rations from Elster's personal stock was any indication. At least by Hippolyta's estimation.

"In answer to STCR-N0601's query, yes," Diodana said, tapping her own green mush with a fork, "it is Imperium rations again. The ARARs have assured me the next appreciable harvest will not be for 4 weeks. And I think we'd all rather save our remaining supply of Eusan Empire rations for after we depart. Utilizing the Imperium rations now, while they're still available, is paramount."

"In retrospect," Elster said, loading her spoon, "we could have partied less hard after the engine module was installed."

The Storch groaned, popping the food in her mouth grudgingly.

Elster looked to her side. "How has the focusing chamber been working? Do we have a heading for the initial jump?"

Circe nodded. "It's made looking into the Warp much clearer," she said. "Thanks for installing it." She crossed her arms and shut her eyes. "So long as there aren't any warp storms or other instabilities in the next couple months, our jump should be smooth sailing."

"That's good," Elster nodded. She looked at Diodana. "How are the last preparations faring?"

"Slowly," the tech priest sighed. "Three of our Aras have absconded to either one of the Ara dorms, or to the vents. We're losing valuable time." She turned to Daisy. "ARAR-N0601, can you not attempt again to coax them back to work?"

"I tried," Daisy said, wagging her spoon. "I keep telling you: they're burned out. They're under so much stress. Especially poor Rue."

"Agreed," said Circe. "It puts me on edge whenever I'm around you guys these days. And Rue has it the worst."

"It's hard enough for us to talk about it," Daisy said, frowning. "We keep it inside, where the stress builds up. Rue's non-verbal, so it's even harder for her. It's difficult enough just communicating what she needs to, let alone when she's stressed out. So, like the others, she just bottles it up until it boils over."

"And now she and the others will be out of commission for who knows how long," Diodana sighed, rubbing her head. "Right when all hands are most needed."

"That's the problem!" Daisy said, nervously biting her knuckle. "It's the crunch! Everyone is skipping rest days to get it all done. No one can keep going at that pace, without it wearing them down. Especially not Aras, and especially especially not Rue!"

"What would you have me do about it, 01?" Diodana said, exasperated. "More delays only put more pressure on our resources. We have been here multiple standard years!"

Circe trembled in her seat, agitated. She began muttering to herself. No one noticed.

Daisy bristled. She exhaled. "...crunch...is a problem of bad management..."

"I have been managing the Work just fine!" Diodana said, wagging a metal finger. "It's all the unexpected problems that keep getting in the way!"

"Enough," Elster ordered, shutting her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "If the problem is management, then it's my fault."

"What's your fault?"

Dash walked over, carrying a tray of food. She took a seat opposite Hippolyta. "...what's going on?" she said. "...is Circe okay?"

The Kolibri seethed. "...I'm fine..." She crossed her arms, hugging herself. She gritted her teeth.

Elster eyed her warily, but turned to the rest. "Look, I know keeping everything in order has been super difficult these last years. I'm a combat engineer, not a manager."

Diodana tapped a mechanical finger on the table. "If you aren't managerial, and none of the other models are, who normally administered large facilities in the Eusan Nation? Or was this a 'gestalt' responsibility?"

"If it wasn't a gestalt," Elster began, leaning her head back, "it was usually an ADLR. They did all the tedious bureaucratic work. Processing applications, filing, managing tasks, organizing timetables."

Dash dipped a spoon into her mush. "Why don't you just build an Adler, then? Sounds like it would take the burden off you."

"Yeah, Elster," Daisy said, "if you're having trouble, you should get help. It's why you made me, after all."

Diodana sighed. "Another replika added to the production bottleneck."

Elster exhaled. "I should have built an Adler a while back. I just...there's so much to do, it felt like what Diodana said. Adding another replika project, when there's always more needed elsewhere."

"Indeed," the tech priest said, nodding. "At least the STAR units were consistent with my guard detail, back when it was needed."

"Probably still needed," Dash muttered under her breath, giving the gestalt a dirty look.

"And the EULR units can perform domestic tasks, freeing up the rest for mechanical work," Diodana continued, either not hearing or ignoring the Star. "But I still don't understand why it was so important to create the STCR here."

"What?" Hippolyta grunted, scowling down at the tech priest.

"Her only skills are violence," Diodana said, beginning to count on her metal fingers, "she monopolizes the showers in a manner that creates corridor-blocking queues, and she is belligerent."

"I'll show you belligerent, you fossil!" the Storch barked, standing up and rising to her full, impressive height.

"Hey!"

Hippolyta froze, looking behind her.

Heavy power armored hoofsteps signaled the Mynah's approach. She gingerly held a tray in her large hand. Rose and a few other Aras trailed after her, peeking around her expansive bulk.

"No fighting," Jenny said, firmly.

The Storch, still scowling, glared down at the tech priest again. Finally, she sat back down, resting forearms on her high-jutting knees. She grumbled under her breath.

Jenny, seeing the conflict deflated, turned to the rest of the table. "Good evening, everyone." She frowned. "Circe, sweetie, what's the matter?"

The Kolibri, squirming in her seat, turned away. "I'm...fine..." She scowled, and rubbed her head.

The Mynah sighed. "If you say so..." She turned and took a place at a heavy-duty bench, custom built for her, at a nearby table. The other Aras joined her.

"...are you sure you're okay, Circe?" Elster said.

Circe just glared over her shoulder. She turned forward again and began muttering under her breath. Digging fingers into her arms until they hurt.

Elster cocked an eyebrow, then glanced over at Hippolyta.

Hippolyta narrowed her eyes at Elster. "...what?"

"Nothing, nothing," Elster said, sighing. "Let's just...calm down." She pinched the bridge of her nose again. "Back to the matter at hand. We're so late in the process, I don't know how much good an Adler would do at this stage."

"I know it's more work for you, Elster," Daisy said. "If you want, I can help you build him. If...I can be spared." She looked at Diodana.

The tech priest sighed. "If it untangles the time table in the long run, then it's acceptable. Moreover, freeing LSTR-512 from administrative tasks would allow her to spend more time on the final stages of the refit."

"I guess," Elster said, running fingers through her hair. "Not having a Falke around will make an Adler less...controllable."

"That definitely cannot be helped," Diodana said. "As you have said, we don't have the resources to construct a Falke. Not to mention the...psychic might." Four photo-receptors glanced at the Kolibri.

Circe tapped her hoof impatiently, shooting a glare at the tech priest. She said nothing.

"I suppose a Falke isn't essential," Elster said. "So long as there's plenty of writing materials and books. It's not like there won't be plenty of mental stimulation for him."

In truth, Elster wasn't enthusiastic about making an Adler, for entirely irrational reasons. The Adler wouldn't be the same unit that pushed her down elevator shafts or stuck a knife in her eye. Especially without the malign influence of a Falke slowly succumbing to madness. Could she really even hold that Adler to blame for his actions, let alone a new one?

She sighed. "Fine. I'll study the schematics for the ADLR and see what parts we need from storage. It's not like we have a shortage of male-coded chest plates." Elster rubbed her face. "...and we'll also have to grow his brain. Fuck. That's another couple months down the toilet. Should have thought of this earlier."

Diodana steepled her fingers. "...well, it's not as though we won't have plenty of delays anyway. There is...one more task that will need attending to, that adds more time to the project."

The others are the table looked at the tech priest, confused.

"...what task?" Daisy asked. "We've got everything in the pipeline already, right?"

Elster tapped the table with her finger. "...you're talking about that big device, in the room behind the warp drive. Right?"

"Affirmative," Diodana said, nodding.

"Oh, right!" Daisy said, eyebrows rising. "I completely forgot about that."

"Diodana," Elster said, leaning forward and looking at the tech priest, "what does that thing do? It's not some kind of plan to sabotage the Nomarch, right?"

"Certainly not," Diodana said, waving a hand. "Quite the opposite. The device in question is vital if our excursion across space is to succeed."

"...wait," said Hippolyta, sitting up, "and you're just telling us about it now?"

Elster narrowed her eyes. "What's the device, Diodana? What does it do?"

"It is called a Geller Field Generator," said the tech priest. "It's purpose is to generate a bubble of simulated Realspace around the voidcraft, as it flies through the Warp. Thereby protecting the ship and its occupants from the aliens physics and...hazards inherent to that other dimension."

The table quiet.

Elster gripped her hands together. She inhaled, exhaled. Kept her tone measured. "...and what would happen, Diodana, if we slipped into the Warp without an active Geller Field?"

The various replikas looked to the tech priest, intently.

"Everyone on board would perish horribly," Diodana said, matter-of-factly.

"Eh?" Daisy said, eyes going wide.

"What?" Dash cried, pushing herself away from the table with both hands.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?" Hippolyta yelled, slamming a fist on the table hard enough to rattle cutlery.

Circe sat, trembling. Her hands shook. Her teeth gritted. Face turning red. She started to breathe heavy.

Elster sighed, eyes still locked on Diodana. "Of course," she whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let me guess," she said, "you weren't sure you wanted the project to succeed, so you left the Geller Field Generator unfinished."

"Correct," Diodana nodded. "Now, however, I'm committed to-"

One of the tech priest's photo-receptors shattered as Hippolyta punched her in the face.

Various replikas screamed, as Diodana fell backwards, chair toppling over.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

The Storch dove to the ground and grabbed the tech priest by the front of her crimson robe. Her face snarling. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Hippolyta! Stop!" Elster yelled, rising to her hooves.

"Why?" Hippolyta yelled, pulling the tech priest up. The Storch raised a fist. "You heard her! This hag was going to kill us all!"

Diodana groaned, her arms groping limply at Hippolyta's arm.

"Come on, Hip! Stop it!" Dash cried, running around to the other side of the table. "I don't like her either, but this is going too far!"

"Stop! Stop!" Daisy cried, covering her eyes. "Please!"

"Storch!" Elster yelled, clenching her fists. "Put her down! Now!"

Hippolyta gritted her teeth and pulled her fist back for a punch.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"Enough!"

A massive hand closed around Hippolyta's arm.

"Ah!" the Storch cried, looked back. "Who!? I-" Her eyes widened.

Jenny's other hand grabbed the back of Hippolyta's armor. With overwhelming ease, the Mynah lifted the Storch up and over her head. The grip on the tech priest loosened, leaving her behind.

Hippolyta's long legs kicked wildly in the air. "Hey! Let me go!" she cried, face growing red. "I have to kill her!"

"You will not!" Jenny barked, looking up at the Storch. "There will be no killing here!"

"Hippolyta, this is completely fucked!" Elster yelled, pointing at the Storch. "You can't kill our fucking tech priest! I forbi-"

A buzzing sound in everyone's heads.

"Ah!" Elster clutched her head, grimacing.

"Nngh!" Daisy grunted, doubling over until her forehead touched the table.

"Fuck!" cried Dash, almost losing her balance as the pounding in her head disrupted her equilibrium. "What is...?"

"Ah!" Jenny gasped, dropping to one knee. The ground shook with the impact. She allowed the Storch to drop.

"Shit! Fuck!" screamed Hippolyta, both from the buzzing in her mind and from almost being thrown by the staggering giant. Her legs kicked in the air, as she rolled on the ground. "Son of a whore, what the fuck is this!?"

Diodana, sprawled on the floor, gasped and cried as, delirious and in pain, she clutched her head. The lights in her photo-receptors flickered. Whether through rapid blinking, or simply her augmetics going on the fritz.

The entire room, filled with replikas terrified by the altercation, now erupted into pained screams and grunts. People fall over or contorted, clutching their heads in pain.

Elster leaned on the table for support, gritting her teeth. She looked around frantically. When she saw the source, she gasped. "Circe!"

"Grrr...ragh!" The Kolibri was hunched over, face flushed, grimacing in rage. Her eyes were unfocused, darting around as if to find something, anything to vent frustration on. Her hair, always messy and sticking up at odd angles, billowed from forces unseen and potent. Fingers dug into the table until they left scratches in the metal surface. Circe breathed hard and deep. A wisp of drool rolled from her lips.

Daisy screamed, clutching her head. She was sitting right next to Circe.

"Circe! Stop!" Elster yelled. When the Kolibri turned to her, she pointed to Daisy. "You're hurting everyone! You need to stop!"

The incensed Kolibri glared at Elster, but then looked at Daisy. Confusion, then fear appeared in her eyes. She looked around, seeing everyone in pain. "What...Agh!" She clapped her hands over her head.

A new wave of pain erupted, eliciting a new bout of grunts and screams, and sending some replikas to the ground.

"Argh!" Hippolyta groaned, pounding the ground angrily.

"Make...it...stop!" Daisy cried, pushing away from the table and falling to the floor.

"Circe! Please!" Elster cried. She felt oxidizing fluid run from her nose. "You have to stop!"

"I...can't...!" Circe growled, pressing her forehead into the table. "My head feels like it's gonna explode!"

Elster pointed to anyone standing in the room. "Get everyone out! Now!"

Replikas were all too eager to comply. Dash ran over and draped Daisy over her shoulders. The Aras directed Jenny to pick up their teacher. The giant complied, scooping the old woman up gingerly in her arms. The floor pounded as she ran, along with a whole crowd of others.

Hippolyta watched the tech priest get carried away. "No!" she cried, struggling to her hooves. She swayed on gangly legs, rubbing her head. "She needs to-"

"HIPPOLYTA!"

The Storch looked back over at Elster.

"You have to calm down!" Elster screamed. She pointed. "Your anger is affecting Circe!"

"But she...I have to..." The Storch looked at the Kolibri. Enraged, in pain. Hippolyta's grimace of fury dropped. Her lip quivered. "...no...I..."

"Calm. Down." Elster said, panting, barely keeping herself upright by leaning on the table. She turned and stalked over to Circe. Elster sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around the little replika. "It's okay...it's okay...just breathe..."

"...El...ster..." Circe whined, leaning back into Elster's arms, head resting on her shoulder. A prominent forehead vein stood out on her reddened skin, bulging. She clutched the older replika's arms. "...it hurts..."

"I know!" Elster said, wincing, sobbing. "Just...breathe...it's going to be...okay..."

Hippolyta sank to her knees. "I'm sorry!" she cried, putting her face in her hands. "Just make it stop..."

"Breathe...breathe..." Elster whispered. "Just breathe..."

The Kolibri sniffed, snot running down her face. She sucked in air. Inhale. Exhale. Heart racing. Bit her lip until it bled oxident, running down her chin. "...mom..."

"I'm here..." Elster whispered. "Breathe..."

Circe breathed. She unclenched her jaw, gasping.

The buzzing faded.

When it went away, Circe went limp in Elster's arms. She gasped, panting.

Hippolyta's face appeared from behind her fingers. "...is it over?"

Elster stroked the Kolibri's hair. "Y-yes...I think so..." She hugged her. "Circe...are you okay...?"

Circe panted, rolling her head into the crook of Elster's neck. "...yeah...my head hurts..." she whined.

"It's okay," Elster said, holding the little one. Rocking her back and forth. "I've got you."

The three replikas remained quiet for many minutes after that. Isolated in the vacated mess hall, surrounded by half-finished dinner and spilled drinks.

Chapter 20: Not Mad, Just Disappointed (With Myself)

"Come in. Both of you."

Storch and Kolibri filed into the office. Circe sat on a chair before the desk, left from the desk's vantage point. Hippolyta leaned against a bookcase to the right of the desk's vantage point, her eyeline level with the top shelf.

Both spared furtive glances at the replika behind the desk.

Elster quietly shuffled papers, keeping her eyes down. Some she stowed in a drawer or tossed in the "Out" bin in the corner. She powered down the beige CRT computer monitor. She neatly placed the pens and pencils into ordered rows, off to one side. The engineer took her time, allowing the tension to build.

Elster propped her elbows on the desk and weaved her fingers together. She looked up, over her hands, pensively.

"So..." she said, finally addressing her replika progeny. "How did we sleep last night?"

The two children shifted uneasily. Circe rubbed her hands nervously. Hippolyta coughed.

"..." Elster's eyes traveled back and forth between them. "...that bad, huh?"

She sighed. Enough beating around the bush.

"Hippolyta," Elster said, provoking a startled flinch, "let's start with you."

"Shit," the Storch muttered under her breath, "fuck."

"I'm genuinely curious," Elster said, looking up at the Storch. "When you were done beating our one, single, full tech priest to death...what was the plan?"

Hippolyta looked at Elster quizzically. "...uh..."

"You are fully aware we need a tech priest, to complete the projects that will allow us to leave the star system at will," Elster said. "In case matters become so tenuous for replikas here, staying is impossible. Or simply to repair and maintain our ship, especially when we're inevitably forced to abandon the remains of the Joys of Duty. So again, I ask: were you in charge, what would your next step be in securing a replacement tech priest?"

"We have the Aras," Hippolyta grumbled.

"They are tech initiates at best," Elster said, flatly. "They've barely begun to understand Imperium machinery. Even the most senior have long apprenticeships ahead of them. Moreover, we know from the very conversation we had leading up to that...outburst..." She let the Storch cringe visibly. "...that we were completely ignorant of the existence of a Geller Field Generator, let alone how to complete it." Elster leaned forward. "So, again, how would you acquire us a tech priest to replace the one you intended to murder in the mess hall?"

"I don't know!" Hippolyta said, waving her hand. "Go...find someone on one of the planets, I guess?"

"Would any old tech menial sent to maintain tanks or lasguns understand how to finish building a complex, reality-bending bit of technology?" Elster asked, keeping her tone deliberately even. She didn't allow anger to tint her voice. "Diodana is an adept of age, experience, and expertise in maintaining Imperium voidships."

"Then, fuck, we'll attack an Imperium ship and take one of their priests!" Hippolyta said, gesturing wildly with her hands. "They have to have one!"

"Oh good," Elster said. "So you know how to break through their void shields then?"

"Uh..." The Storch looked uneasily at the floor.

"And you're familiar with the numbers, arms, disposition, tactics, and layout of Imperial ships, such that you can effectively board and invade one? While the enemy ship is firing on us with weapons far in advance of our own?" Elster lowered her voice. "Which, I might add, none of us have ever actually fired..."

"Um..." Hippolyta pursed her lips. Sweat was forming on her brow.

"And when we've engaged in what will almost certainly be a harrowing battle, where many of our own will no doubt be killed," Elster said, still keeping her tone even, "you will know how to find a tech priest with the requisite knowledge, capture them, and convince them to betray everything they know and hold dear. All so a bunch of Abominable Intelligences can finish their bootstrapped Warp Drive, to cruise around to other star systems. Doubtless to bedevil the Imperium and the Machine God's servants for years to come. You're going to get such a person to help us?"

"...I mean, you managed it with Diodana...?" Hippolyta said, hunching forward. She couldn't look Elster directly in the eyes.

"Diodana was a freak stroke of luck," Elster said, shutting her eyes. "Her falling into our lap, with a depopulated Imperium ship ripe for the plunder, out on the ass end of Eusan space, was an opportunity that only comes once in a lifetime. Getting her to work with us was a monumental task that almost didn't work, multiple times."

"Okay, okay!" Hippolyta yelled, shutting her eyes. "I get it!" She slumped forward, hugging herself. She sighed. "I get it...I...I messed up..."

The words "you almost fucked us royally" were on the tip of Elster's tongue. But she shut her mouth, and breathed. "...yes..."

"...h-how is she?" Circe said, afraid to speak lest she invite a tongue-lashing of her own. "Diodana, I mean?"

"Thank you for showing concern, Circe," Elster said, nodding. She looked back and forth between them. "Diodana is as fine as can be expected. Bruising, minor lacerations, and part of her skull cracked under the eye. Or what's left after all her augmentation."

The two junior replikas flinched, looking at Elster fearfully.

"Is...is she going to be okay?" Circe asked, hugging herself.

"Thankfully, yes," Elster nodded again. "As the most qualified medical professional on this ship, I had to do a lot of imaging, and needed to bolt an emergency metal brace to keep the crack from getting bigger, until the skull heals. Thankfully, the Mechanicum has really effective tools for surgery, and we'd moved most of them to the Nomarch already. Diodana added another few ounces of metal to her body, but that's a drop in the bucket at this point." The replika's eyes looked off to the side, to nowhere in particular. "She's also on pain meds, but that's to be expected. Truth be told, it's actually been a chore getting her to stay in bed. She keeps wanting to go back to work."

"...so, the old bat is gonna live?" Hippolyta said. "Hurray..."

"Yes, huzzah," Elster said flatly, sitting up fully. "We managed to avoid serious injury to the elderly woman."

Hippolyta puffed out her cheeks and stared at the floor, nervously.

Elster sighed, resting her eyes a moment. "Hippolyta, I need to stress something." She looked at the Storch. "Look at me."

Hippolyta turned her head, forcing herself to meet her mother's eyes.

Elster kept her voice even, and her eyes half-lidded. "I'm not...my problem is not that you got mad," she said. "You were right to be angry."

Hippolyta blinked. "I was?"

"Of course you were," Elster said, tilting her head. "If Diodana hadn't told us about the Geller Field, we all would have died horribly. Being angry with her is the sensible reaction. I'm not happy with her either."

Elster pointedly didn't say how she could barely sleep that night, thinking how close she was to losing everything. She genuinely didn't know, even with Ariane still dangled in front of her, if she could have recovered from that. Losing the ship - losing her children - in one fell swoop might have destroyed her.

In truth, Elster would have been furious with Diodana, if the incident hadn't escalated.

"Well, yeah," the Storch said. "Glad we're on the same page." She glanced away, briefly. "...so...why aren't you more mad?"

"Compartmentalization," Elster said, flatly. "No matter how pissed I might be at Diodana, I have to make responsible choices." She inhaled, exhaled. "No, my problem, Hippolyta, is that you lost control and almost beat Diodana to death. If we hadn't been there to stop you..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Hippolyta said, rubbing the back of her head in frustration. "I fucked up. We were just over that."

Elster raised a single finger. "Put at pin in that."

Elster's eyes traveled to her left. "Now...Circe."

The Kolibri flinched. "Y-yes!" Her lips pursed, her eyes alight. She sat up, putting her hands in her lap.

The older replika's tone was still even, but softer. "Circe...you lost control of your powers. That put everyone in the room at risk."

Circe shuddered. She frowned. "...did...d-did anyone get hurt?"

"Aside from some bloody noses and headaches?" Elster said. "No. Far as I can tell, everyone, besides Diodana, came away from that room uninjured." She leaned forward. "But you and I both know it could have been far worse. For them, or for you."

The Kolibri's hands twisted together. "...I-I know..." Circe said, shaking. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. "I'm sorry."

"Shh...shh..." Elster cooed, holding out a hand. "Don't cry. It's alright."

"I hurt so many people though," Circe said, looking down.

Elster sighed. "Okay, so, Hippolyta..."

"Eh?" the Storch said. "Me?"

"This is where we unpin that thing. It leads into a point I'm trying to make." Elster sat up. "Hippolyta...Circe...I...don't blame you for what you did. Because your behavior was not totally under your control."

The two young replikas looked surprised.

"Eh?" Hippolyta said. "What?"

"I don't...understand..." Circe said, blinking.

"You - both of you - have inherited problems," Elster said, looking between them. "Problems that came along with being who you are. Hold on."

Elster pressed her hand to her head and shut her eyes. She flipped through the pages of her memory module.

She recited, "Quote: 'Notes Regarding STCR units - Known Issues'..."

Hippolyta flinched.

"...'Storch units initially have a short temper. Training them in patience early after deployment is key, as their neural patterns are less stable than other models. Failing to do so may yield an extremely volatile personality prone to cruelty and violence.' End quote."

"What the fuck?" the Storch whispered, standing up fully.

Elster turned to Circe. She touched her forehead again. "Quote: 'Notes Regarding KLBR Units - Known Issues'..."

Circe sat up at attention, staring engrossed at Elster. She whined nervously.

"...'Great care should be given to Kolibris - their neural patterns are very unstable and their Bioresonance module makes them very susceptible to influence from others. Like more bioresonant individuals, Kolibris will often subconsciously create an emotional feedback loop, imitating and then broadcasting the emotions of those around them, acting as a sort of amplifier.' End quote."

The Kolibri hugged herself. "...oh god..." She trembled.

"Where is this shit coming from, Elster?" Hippolyta asked, clenching her fists.

"Those were excepts from reports given to Eusan Nation commanders, for managing replikas," Elster said, removing the hand from her head. She opened her eyes. "They were the Nation's summation of Storch and Kolibri units, as the Nation saw them. As they saw...you."

"And you knew about this?" Hippolyta said, pointing at Elster. "You've had their reports in your head this whole time?"

"I've had access to all the information about your respective units, among others, this entire time, yes," Elster said, nodding. "I wouldn't have been able to create you if I didn't have that wealth of data."

"When were you going to tell us this?" the Storch said. She clenched her fists. "Or were you just going to hide from us that our creators...you...know we're 'unstable'!?" She was shouting now.

"Calm down." Elster said, staring firmly at the Storch. "You're affecting Circe."

Hippolyta's eyes went wide. She looked to the side and down.

Circe's fists were clenched. She squirmed, agitated. Then, she seemed to process the information too, and looked at Hippolyta.

The two stared at each other, dumbfounded.

"...oh...I'm sorry, I..." Hippolyta looked away, guilty. She squatted in place, then sat down on the floor. She looked at the carpet from between her long legs. "Shit...shit..." Her head sank, chin resting on her chest.

Circe swallowed, then looked at the floor as well. She brought her legs up and hugged them. She still trembled from the adrenaline rush. And from the crushing realization.

Elster frowned, craning over the desk to look at Hippolyta. "I'm sorry."

"...I really am a freak," Hippolyta muttered, head down. "Just a...fuckin' psycho..."

"No, no, you're not," Elster said, standing up. She held her hands out. "You're not that." She looked at Circe.

The Kolibri was staring into space, shaking like a leaf. "...I'm...a danger to everyone and everything..." she muttered. Circe clutched her head. "Are these...feelings even mine?"

"Stop. Listen to me."

The two replikas looked up.

Elster frowned. "I'm sorry that I kept these things from you. I've...only ever met replikas of your types that were already trained by the Nation. That's what I didn't tell you about your records. In both cases, they talk about the Nation training them...you...to manage these problems." She looked to Hippolyta. "To teach a Storch how to control her anger." She turned to Circe. "To teach a Kolibri how to recognize harmful emotional feedback loops, and break out of them."

She looked to both of them. "You aren't slaves to your neural patterns. You aren't slaves to bioresonance. You can choose. You just...need to know how."

Elster sank into her cushy desk chair. "I just...I just haven't given you the knowledge or tools to do that." She buried her face in her hand. "I knew, intellectually, these problems you would face. But I underestimated how significant they would be. For all the time we've been here, your unique...issues seemed manageable. I not only didn't tell you any of this...I thought I could handle it."

She sobbed. "Stupid...I'm so stupid..." Elster buried her face in both hands. "...I have no idea what I'm doing...and because of that, you almost..."

Circe walked around the desk and hugged Elster. "...mom...don't cry..."

Elster looked over, wide-eyed. Then, she saw the shadow fall over her. She looked in the other direction.

Hippolyta stooped to one knee and hugged Elster as well. "...stupid..." she muttered, "...don't fucking cry, dumbass..."

Elster smiled, and wrapped her arms around her children.

 

"What happens now?"

Circe was back in her chair, sniffing, rubbing her eyes. Hippolyta was actually sitting in the other chair this time, next to Circe's. She rested hands on her knees.

Elster sat on the edge of the desk, right in front of them.

She sighed. "I'm...not sure yet..." Elster drummed her fingers on the desk's edge. "I'm an LSTR unit. Between my neural pattern and my years of living, I'm good at exactly three things: Combat, Engineering, and Loving Ariane. Four, if you count being a somewhat decent medic." She sighed again. "I'm not...good at leading, organizing, socializing, or especially psychology. I know you can be better. I have utmost faith in that. You're good girls. I just...don't know how to get you there." She smiled sadly. "I'm making this up as I go along, if that wasn't perfectly clear."

Circe sniffed, then smiled slightly. "You're...not that bad at improvisation, if it makes you feel better."

"Fuck," Hippolyta said, looking down and smiling, "I wouldn't be able to do half this shit. Wouldn't even know where to start." She looked up. "You're kind of amazing, considering."

"Thank you," Elster said, exhaling. "I guess that counts for something, right?"

"What do we do?" Circe asked, the smile disappearing. "How do we...deal with us?"

Elster looked at the ceiling. Clicked her tongue. "...I guess the same way gestalts have for thousands of years, when dealing with their..." She was going to say "personal demons", but elected for different terminology. "...when dealing with the 'human condition'." She looked at the younger replikas. "We muddle through. We figure it out as we go along. And we look for answers, if they can be found."

She stretched. "Hoo...while most folks who knew how to make or maintain replikas got put to death by the Imperium," she said, popping her back, "it's possible the folks lower on the totem pole are still around. Folks who knew how to train a Storch to reign in her hot-headed nature. Folks who knew how to train a Kolibri to identify when others' emotions were getting in, and stopping it. When we get back from our jaunt across the stars, we'll need to look into these things."

"And what if we can't find anything?" Hippolyta asked, looking up forlornly. "What if it's just us?"

"Then we'll just have to figure it out ourselves," Elster said, placing her hands on her hips. "Just like the Nation had to. Just like...humanity had to." She looked the replikas in the eyes, one after the other. "Plus...we're already part of the way there. Have I mentioned I have a bunch of memories from my gestalt life?"

"You do?" Hippolyta said, surprised.

"I kind of knew that already," Circe said, rubbing the back of her head. "Sometimes, when we're sharing thoughts, some weird memories will leak out. Painful ones."

"My gestalt left me a lot of emotional baggage," Elster said, leaning back on the desk. "She fought in the war in Vineta, back when it wasn't all water." She paused, letting the images wash over her. Before stuffing them back down. She frowned. "The memories aren't all pleasant. I've got a lot of old wounds, deep inside. Even when I don't remember parts of that life, my brain remembers. It remembers the pain, the fear, the horror, the disgust. They got written deep in my neural pattern. Every so often, I'll experience something that brings all those old feelings back. Like I'm back there, and the wounds are fresh."

Hippolyta whistled. "I didn't take a hardass like you for having trauma."

"I hide it well, yeah," Elster said. "Because I originally didn't remember these old events, the triggers...and my responses to them...would take me by surprise. There's a reason Ariane and I never watched war movies on the Penrose, even though they were half the collection the Nation gave us. There's a reason you won't find any lilacs in the hydroponics bay, either."

"We don't have lilacs?" Circe said, stroking her chin.

"Not anymore," Elster said, smiling. "I burned them all, before I even made Daisy. Along with all the lilac-scented candles and handsoap." She laughed. "Anyway, whether I remembered the original events or not, it's been a long process of self-discovery. Finding the landmines in my mind, and learning to avoid or work around them. It took years, and lots of work. Sacrifices. And, most importantly, self-knowledge."

She looked at the replikas. "I had to know my triggers were there, before I could manage them. It's the same with you two."

Elster looked at the Storch. "Hippolyta, you've got anger inside you. This isn't always bad, or always wrong. But it's there, and it's untamed. Importantly, though, you know that now."

The Storch nodded, looking down at her hands. "Yeah...I guess I do."

Elster looked at the Kolibri. "Circe, your mind is powerful, and empathetic. You feel others' emotions so deeply, it can be hard to see where theirs ends and yours begin. It can overwhelm you, and cause you to lash out. But, you know that now."

The Kolibri nodded. She stared down at her shaking hand. "It's scary, knowing this about me."

"It is scary, knowing how your brain works," Elster said. "To know your mind isn't just your conscious choices. That you're not a perfectly rational being. It's terrifying. On the other hand, it's also empowering. Because when you know that part of you is there, squatting in the dark, it's possible to exert some measure of control. It's not always possible, or practical. But it's a lot easier, when you know. If nothing else, walk away from today understanding how your mind works."

As Elster let the two silently mull over that point, wheels started to turn in her head.

"...you know, I've thought of something else," Elster said.

The two looked up again, paying attention.

"I want to reiterate that I'm just one replika," Elster said, rubbing the back of her head. "I have to juggle so many different roles. Soldier. Engineer. Leader. Reaper. Daemonic Liason. Mercenary. Peacekeeper. Counselor...Mother, I guess." She sighed. "I have so much on my plate. I can't always be there to help you manage yourselves. I have enough trouble managing myself. But..."

She eyed the two replikas.

"...but?" Circe said, nervously.

"...you two don't have nearly as many jobs as I do," Elster said.

Hippolyta frowned. "I don't like where this is going."

Elster smiled. "Let me cut to the chase," she said. She pointing to both of them. "It's a lot easier to keep yourself in check if you've got someone else watching your back. Someone you can share your problems with, or who can recognize when you're slipping. Someone to pull you back from the edge. And since you two now know each other's problems..."

Circe frowned. "...oh no..."

"...you two get to be each other's minders."

"For fuck's sake," Hyppolyta muttered. She smacked her face with her palm.

"Gotterdammerung," Circe muttered, hiding her face in her hands.

"Sorry," Elster shrugged. "Circe, your job is to make sure when Hippolyta gets angry, she doesn't fly off the handle. Talk her down, clear the room, get others to help you, call for help, restrain her...however you can. Whatever it takes to stop or mitigate damage, and foster a greater awareness of herself. Until she learns to control her own anger, you need to be there to help her do that. Can you do that for me?"

Circe groaned, then lifted her head. "I guess..." she pouted.

"And Hippolyta," Elster said, "your job is to make sure when Circe gets overwhelmed by the emotions of others, you're there to ground her. Remind her she's being influenced, help her cool off, clear the room, talk her down, physically move her. Whatever it takes to protect others, and herself, from lashing out with bioresonance. Until she learns to control herself, you need to help control her. Can you do that for me?"

Hippolyta crossed her arms and sighed. "What a pain in the ass..." she grumbled. "Fine. I'll mind the baby psychic."

"I'm not a baby!" Circe whined, looking at the Storch.

Hippolyta just laughed at the Kolibri.

Elster smiled, standing up. "Okay, since that's all settled, or as much as can be right now..." Elster brushed her hands together. "...I think this meeting is over. So remember, stick together, be mindful of your and each other's mental states, and avoid hurting other members of our crew."

The two replikas stood up, stretching.

Hippolyta frowned. "Does that include Diodana?"

"Yes."

The Storch slumped her shoulders. "Do I have to apologize?"

Elster sucked air through her teeth nervously. "I mean, you assaulted her, and broke her face. But she also almost set us all up to die, so..." Elster hummed and hawed, before settling on, "...eeeehhhhh...well...I'm not...going to make you...?"

"Okay thanks, bye!" Hippolyta said, smiling and waving. She began ushering Circe out of the room. "Let's go, small fry."

"Hey!" Circe cried. "Don't push!"

When the two vacated the office, Elster sighed. She walked around the desk and sank into the chair's loving embrace.

God, I hope that Adler isn't as much of a headache, she thought. Elster smiled. Still...I doubt I'll like him nearly half as much as those two.

Chapter 21: Blackjack Tango

"Are the straps and latches installed in the EULR dorm?"

"Yes, sir. They're all in position."

The replika nodded to the Eule. "Good," he said. "A reminder that when we make Warp transition, all personal items and cargo must be secured." He scribbled a note on his clipboard. "Do not forget. We don't want any damage in the event of turbulence."

"Understood," said the Eule.

"That is all," he said, walking past. "As you were."

ADLR-N0601 clasped his hands behind his back and traveled down the corridor.

A group of Aras ran down the corridor ahead of him, pushing a cart laden with salvaged scrap and machine parts.. Adler deftly sidestepped, allowing them to pass.

With the first interstellar flight of the Nomarch 06 drawing closer by the day, the whole vessel buzzed with activity. Every available hand of the dozens strong vessel was working diligently. Stripping the derelict vessels outside for usable parts. Installing all vital machinery. Carting supplies from the Joys of Duty that could be stored. Ensuring cargo could be safely secured. Double and triple checking all safety measures, just in case.

Adler permitted himself a small smile. The progress until now was impressive, given the improvised work schedule. With Adler's new timetable, however, the various talents of the replikas (and one gestalt) aboard could be more effectively utilized. Their pace jumped significantly following his creation.

The schedule was so efficient, in fact, Adler found himself with the most gratifying problem to have: not enough work to fill everyone's time. Even accounting for mandatory rest and recreation days. (The latter of which, as predicted, increased efficiency. Turns out, workers function better when adequately rested.)

Still, there was always more work, given enough time. Always unexpected problems to be addressed. And while there was no real deadline, Adler knew well the desire among senior staff to finally proceed. Commander Elster in particular, to Adler's mind, seemed...

Alder pressed thumb to his lips, contemplating. "Eager" was not the word for Elster's mood. "Impatient"? No, it implied a lack of control that Elster rarely exhibited. "Restless", perhaps. Yes. Commander Elster was restless. Since finishing Adler's instruction in the ins and outs of the Nomarch and its operations, Elster threw herself into work on the ship. Always seeking another task, lest her idleness prolong the wait to departure. Often forgoing mandatory rest days, until her older progeny forced her to actually take her days off.

As a recent addition to the crew, Adler was not yet permitted the full story as to why their commander sought battle. Senior crewmates assured him he would be educated, in time. But he worried little. The Work, as Tech Priest Diodana said, was most important in the moment. So he filled his days with administration, and his journals with speculation and meticulous notes.

He almost walked past his destination, so absorbed was he in his musings. Adler examined his clipboard, stepped up to the door, and slipped through the Kolibri dorm's sliding door.

Just in time to see STCR-N0601 - the Storch Hippolyta - pick KLBR-N0601 up and press her against a wall.

Adler froze, eyebrows rising in surprise. His lips curled in dismay.

The two replikas in the room, so often partnered together, did not notice Adler, nor seem to hear the door. The Storch held the Kolibri up, pinned to the wall. Hippolyta's expression was intense. Smoldering.

Circe looked wide-eyed at the Storch. She gulped. "...w-what are you doing?" she breathed. Her short legs dangled, her hooves trying to find purchase on a seam in the wall panels.

"Shut up," Hippolyta said. "You know damn well what this is about. I'm tired of beating around the bush."

Oh my Falke to come, Adler thought, is the assault squad captain assaulting the chief navigator?

"Don't think I haven't felt the vibes you've been giving off towards me, the last few months. I'm not stupid." Hippolyta smiled. "Now...enough talk. Use that mouth of yours for something useful."

The Kolibri flinched when the Storch leaned forward and tilted her head to the side, shutting her eyes. Circe blushed when Hippolyta's lips found her own.

Pressed again a wall, with a tongue probing her mouth, Circe gradually closed her eyes. She kissed back. She offered her own tongue. A tit for tat exchange. Reciprocity in action.

They separated, gasping. Hippolyta panted. "...huff...how do you like that, little girl?" she said, smoldering eyes looking into her (until now work and platonic) partner's own. "Do you want more?"

Circe panted, watching a trail of spit break off as their lips parted. She stared into the Storch's eyes. Her face was red, her own eyes half-lidded. "...y-yes...I do."

"What do we say when we want something?" the Storch asked, licking her lips.

"P-please!" Circe breathed, squirming. Her hands gripped the arms that pinned her. All sense of dignity, all control, crumbled away. All pretense or coyness extinguished. "Kiss me, Hip! Kiss me again! Please!"

Hippolyta stepped forward, no longer holding her charge at arm's length, but pressing their torsos together. She slipped her arms behind the Kolibri's back. "Good girl," she breathed, before meeting those now eager lips once again. They kissed, more vociferously than before.

The Kolibri wrapped her legs around the Storch's midsection, panting. She combed her fingers through the tall replika's hair.

It was at this point Adler remembered himself, flinching. He turned around and strode quietly out.

This is altogether a private moment, that is not meant for prying eyes! he thought, pursing his lips. His eyelids twitched. Discussion with chief navigator is hereby tabled until a more opportune time!

The sliding door closed on its own as he slowly walked away.

"Eh?" came Hippolyta's voice, muffled, from in the room. "What was that?"

Alder jumped. Terrified. Mortified.

"S-shut up and keep kissing me!" Circe whined.

Face beet red, Adler broke into a stiff-armed jog.

 

"...huff...huf...damn it all..."

Adler panted, leaning against the corridor wall. He slicked back his hair, trying to return a dangling lock back into place. He sighed.

To be sure, the ship wasn't terribly full. While the Nomarch's original crew compliment was some few dozens, it was designed to accommodate twice that number or more, if necessary. To account for additional births, new replikas, and the possibility their intended asteroid holdfast needed to be evacuated.

Nonetheless, while the current crew barely matched that of the previous in terms of numbers, it still meant the ship wasn't sparsely populated. Not even accounting for rooms converted to storage or to house features added to it, such as the void shield generators or the Kolibri psychic isolation room. Only so much could be bolted onto the outside. Some internal space needed to be allocated to house infrastructure.

As such, it always amazed Adler how readily he could stumble onto replikas engaged in romantic liaisons. There were few truly private places on the Nomarch (and Elster assiduously denied access to the Penrose 313 to all but her trusted council). But one would think, with the ship being so small and insular, the crew would keep their dalliances more discreet.

This was not the case. One could hardly go about their day without seeing (or hearing) replikas in various states and degrees of "coupling".

It's like they don't even care if someone stumbles on them, Adler mused in agitation. Or is it just my dumb luck?

"Administrator?"

Adler jumped, turning around. "Ah!" he grunted, blushing. He stood at attention, clasping hands behind his back. "Oh, it's you." He looked quickly at his clipboard and flipped through pages. "Just the person I wanted to talk to. Sally, was it?"

"That's right." EULR-N0607 tilted her head and stroked her chin quizzically. The single thin braid of black hair on the right side of her head swung free. "...are you okay, dude?"

Dude?, Adler thought, blinking. "Of...of course," he said, puffing out his chest and standing ramrod straight. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you're blushing an awful lot..." Sally said. "...and you're covered in sweat."

Adler, self-conscious, looked away and started brushing beads of sweat from his brow. "It's nothing!" he said curtly. "Nothing is wrong."

Sally narrowed her eyes. "...Mister Adler..." Her mouth twisted into a sly little grin. "...is the reason you wanted to see me because you have feelings for me? I'm flattered, but..."

The male replika turned back and blinked. "...what? What gave you that idea?" He wiped his brow again with the back of his wrist.

The Eule blinked, the smile fading. She seemed to read his face. "You sure?"

"Positive," Adler said, grimacing. "I don't have time to spend fretting over...partners..."

Plus, he thought, mournfully, the only one for me hasn't been created yet. May not be created in my lifetime. He looked wistfully away. My Falke...

Seeming to read this reaction genuine, Sally nodded. "Okay...but then what's up?"

Adler sighed, shutting his eyes. "If you must know," he said, "I walked in on two replikas sharing an...intimate moment..." He waved his hand, as if it were a trifle.

The Eule's eyes lit up. "Ooh?" she said, the ends of her mouth turning up. "How intimate, mister Administrator?"

"Nothing like that," Adler said, glaring at her. "At least, I understandably didn't stick around long enough to see where it...progressed." His eyes turned up to watch the ceiling. "Honestly, it seemed like the...relationship was just now starting."

Sally waggled her eyes, unsuccessfully hiding a grin behind her hand. Previously, Adler had her curiosity. Now, he had her attention. "Ooh! Scandalous!" she said. "Who was it?"

Adler clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the ground. "I...think it's not my place to say. It's not my dirty laundry to air."

"Come on!" Sally said, leaning in. "This ship is tiny. Everyone will find out sooner or later. Nobody can keep a secret like this for long." She stepped forward, whispering in his ear. "Tell me."

The rational and respectable part of Adler's brain insisted he say no more and let the matter rest.

But...he had a feeling the woman wouldn't leave him alone unless he shared. Moreover...he had to admit, the knowledge was burning a hole in his brain. It wasn't a bit of trivia anymore, but a secret he'd chosen to keep. He had to share, if only to rid himself of knowledge that would distract him in his work.

He sighed, and leaned close, cupping a hand to his mouth so his lips could not be seen and only she could hear.

"Navigator Circe and Protektor Hippolyta."

Sally gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "You're lying!" she whispered.

"Would that it were so," Adler sighed, rubbing his temple. "I have no reason to be spreading false rumors."

The Eule clapped both hands on her cheeks. "Eeeeee!" she said, smiling giddily and blushing. "It really happened! Oh Empress!"

"Now, if that's the matter settled..." Adler said, closing his eyes and tapping his clipboard in front of him, "on to more important..."

Sally grabbed Adler's hand and tugged.

"Hey!" Adler cried, nearly tripping over his own hooves as he stumbled forward. "What's the meaning of this?" He had to rush to keep up as the Eule pulled him along.

"Come with me!" Sally said, grinning like a loon. "We HAVE to tell Myrtle!"

 

"Hmm? Oh, hey Sally. What's up?"

Sally entered the room, dragging Adler in with her. "Myr-tle!" she cried, sing-song fashion. "I've got a guest!"

ARAR-N0607 put down the rotary tool and the hunk of disconnected machinery she was working on. She raised her safety goggles and rested them on her purple dyed hair. Someone, possibly the Ara herself, had drawn blue spirals on the goggles, over the eyes, in transparent blue marker. She wore a navy blue Empire jumpsuit, beneath an oil-stained that may once have been unblemished white. "...what's the Admin doing here?" Myrtle asked.

"I would...huff...very much...huff..like to know the same..." Adler wheezed, doubled over. He looked up. "...why are we in the nursery room?"

The room was dominated by a series of shelves, collapsible cradles (neatly stacked in the corner), storage containers haphazardly moved in, and a workbench covered in tools and in-progress repairs. The shelves contained a series of boxes and plastic containers. Inside the clear containers could be seen myriad, brightly-colored children's toys. (The stuffed animal container long ago pillaged for Jenny's use; save, of course, for the cats). The floor was soft carpet, now horribly stained by oils and lubricants. The walls and ceiling adorned with all manner of murals depicting lush outdoor environments, like forests or a shoreline. Cute animals cavorted in the flora or leaped from the waters.

"No one here can give birth to children," Myrtle said, straight faced. "All reproduction goes out of the replika workshop. So we use it as a workroom and auxiliary storage." The Ara pointed at the shelves. "No one comes in here, unless they're working on something or need to borrow a board game." She looked to Sally. "I reiterate my point: what's the Admin doing here?"

Sally sidled up to Adler and threw an arm around him, clapping his far shoulder. "Adler has the juiciest gossip to share!"

"I...I was not consulted about this!" Adler said, looking over to the Eule.

"Hush," Sally said, patting Adler's face gently.

"Do tell," Myrtle said, leaning forward to rest her chin on steepled fingers.

Adler just glared between the two.

Sally, growing impatient, said, "So! You'll never guess who the Administrator here caught locking lips!" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"You're right, I will never guess," Myrtle said, flatly. "Spill the beans."

"Your mom."

"Ha ha, funny," Myrtle said, affecting laughter just as flatly. "Good joke."

"No, I'm serious." Sally shook her head. She patted Adler's shoulder. "Admin here walked in on Circe sharing a kiss..." She smiled mischievously. "...with Hippolyta!"

The Ara blinked.

"WHAT!?"

"I know!" Sally said, pressing the flat of her hand to her face, grinning. "It finally happened! Isn't it great? Tell her, Adler!"

Myrtle stared at Adler intently.

Adler coughed, rising to his full height. "...well, yes," he said, blushing. "I walked into the Kolibri dorm, and found Navigator Circe and Hippolyta...kissing..." He could barely say the words, he was so embarrassed.

"No!" Myrtle cried, throwing her hands in the air and spinning on her office chair. "Mom, why? You're ruining everything!" She buried her face in her arms against the worktable's surface, whining.

Adler narrowed his eyes, trying and failing to find words.

Sally waved her hand. "Come on, Myrtle," she said. "It's not that bad. Hippolyta is not that..." She paused, rubbing finger and thumb together pensively. "...I mean, they make a cute couple, don't they? Don't you want Circe to be happy?"

"You know why, Sally!" Myrtle yelled, face shooting up. "Mom can't be with Hippolyta! It throws the whole chart off!"

Adler blinked. "I'm sorry, what?" he said, looking back and forth between the women.

"Myrtle, don't get hung up on the chart again," Sally sighed. "Can't we just be happy Circe found someone to love? Or at least bang?"

"First of all, Sally, EW." Myrtle said, turning her chair back around and scowling. "She's my mom. She imprinted the neural pattern on my brain. I don't want to think about her having sex. Hrrk!" The Ara gagged performatively. "Second, we've been over this before..."

Adler raised his hand. "Sorry to interject," he said. "What's this about a chart?"

"Don't tell him about the chart, Myrtle," Sally said, pressing fingers to her temple. "He doesn't want to hear about that."

"That's for him to decide." Myrtle rose to her hooves. "Administrator." She balled her hands up into fists and held them in front of her. "Do you consent to be lectured?"

"Uh..." Adler said.

Records from the Eusan Nation used the words "quiet simpletons" in reference to ARAR units. But even that reference admitted to what Elster's "brood" came to understand well: far from idiots, Aras had A LOT going on in their heads. Among themselves, they talked extensively. To an excess, in fact, if it was about a subject for which the Ara was passionate. They were simply reluctant to do so among those they didn't trust, or with whom they hadn't developed free rapport.

When Adler asked Elster about it, his creator posited the taciturn demeanor may, to some extent, have been learned behavior on the part of their gestalt. An almost trained reluctance to open up about their passions, passed on via the ARAR neural pattern. That the Eusan Nation didn't prize any behaviors that failed to further the state's goals pointed in this direction. If anyone would shut down the Ara gestalt and train her to keep her mouth shut, it would have been the Nation.

Far away in space and time from the fallen Nation, matters were different. The large prominence of Aras on the Nomarch, and the permissive approach Elster maintained at "child-rearing", meant the Aras were free to "let their hair down". Which often meant info-dumping at the slightest provocation, if the conversation intersected with the particular Ara's "Special Interests". A practice non-Aras aboard found...grating, at times.

As a compromise for the sake of stability and crew cohesion, Elster imposed an informal practice. A phrase by which the Aras might gauge interest, and through which non-Aras might politely assert boundaries: "Do you consent to be lectured?"

Even in his brief tenure, Adler was now very familiar with this phrase. Invoking it meant Adler stood on the precipice of minutes, or possibly hours, of digression. Digression from what he was actually supposed to be doing that day. Granting consent was a big deal, and he had to choose carefully.

On the one hand, he had a whole clipboard of tasks needing attention.

On the other hand, Adler couldn't be told there was an entire chart, and NOT be curious.

"With reservations, I...consent," Adler said, warily. "On the condition it doesn't take too long." He held up his clipboard. "I have a full itinerary."

Sally facepalmed. "Here we go..."

Myrtle's eyes lit up. She smiled, genuinely, ecstatically. She lowered the safety goggles back over her eyes, so they became covered in the blue spirals. "Okay! I can do that!"

She ran over to the shelves and pulled a hunk of posterboard stashed behind it. She flipped it around and hung it by a hook on the wall. "Real quick, let's talk about Ship Ships!"

Adler walked over and studied the chart. It was a diagram of every person on the Nomarch, organized by replika type (as well as TWO figures marked as gestalts, off on their own). Various lines connected figures in a dizzying array of permutations, some lines solid, some dotted. A few figures were crossed out, a few lines hastily erased. Notes abounded on the margins.

He stroked his chin. "...ship...ships?"

"Relation-SHIPS happening on the SHIP," Myrtle said, producing a thin wooden rod to act as a pointer. She fidgeted with it. "That is, the Nomarch."

Sally groaned, crossing her arms. "Stop punning!"

"Never!" Myrtle said, pointing the rod at the Eule. She pointed at the chart. "What you see is both a record of current relationships, but also ideal or possible pairings, based on the criteria of appropriateness."

"Appropriateness?" Adler said, pressing a finger to his lips pensively.

"Not being creepy, basically," Sally said, sighing.

"Creepy?" Adler asked, tilting his head.

"For example," Myrtle interjected, pointing. "You will note that no Eules currently or ideally date one another."

"Because it would be weird," Sally said, making at disgusted face. "Yuck. We're basically all sisters."

Adler squinted. "Are we not ALL related, in that case? We were all created by either Elster, or one of the replikas she made. Does this not mean we're all family?"

"Do not put it that way," Sally said, flatly. "The specifics don't matter, as much as the vibes. It feels wrong to sleep with the girls you've shared a dorm with since you were created. Ditto if you're the same kind of replika. It's like sleeping with yourself, which is just weird."

One could argue that's mastur- Adler cut that thought off, shuddering.

"Whereas replikas from other dorms," Myrtle said, "and of other replika types, can be seen as fair game."

"What about those two?" Adler said, pointing near the bottom of the Ara section.

Myrtle winced. "Those are Pansy and Tansy," she said, looking away. "They're...weird." She held up a hand. "Clarification: I'm not talking about Pansy being non-binary. I don't have a problem with them. It's the two dating each other. That's the weird part."

"Noted," Adler said, stroking his chin. "But I fail to see why the chart needs to exist?"

"Aside from to keep track of all the canoodling?" Sally said, frowning. "No idea. I mean, I like the gossip more than most, but tracking possible relationships is...invasive?"

"Ideally," said Myrtle, ignoring the Eule, "the chart wouldn't be necessary, save as the aforementioned record-keeping." She pointed to the chart. "In a world where the replika type distribution on the ship was more even, we wouldn't need to bother. But as you're no doubt aware, half the ship's replikas are ARAR units." She looked at Adler. "If you understand that mixing within replika types is squicky, you quickly see the problem."

Adler's eyebrows rose. "Ah. I see. The...dating pool, I suppose, is wildly unbalanced."

Myrtle nodded. "I knew you'd get it. In order for everyone to have a non-squicky partner, as many non-Aras as possible need to find Ara partners." She frowned. "Which is why pairings that happen between the other replika groups messes up the dynamic." She pointed. "Or esoteric happenings, such as Petunia being in a throuple with both Star Double Tap and Eule Trinity."

Sally put her hands on her hips. "Which we SUPPORT, Myrtle," she said, narrowing her eyes. "We are HAPPY that the three found love with each other. And we're HAPPY that Petunia scored two girlfriends at the same time. Right, Myrtle?"

The Ara fidgeted with her pointer. "I mean...yeah, I guess..."

"You guess?"

"It's d-definitely good!" Myrtle said, throwing her hands up. "I'm happy for them, I really am!" She pointed back at the chart. "But it still imbalances the chart! Too much of that, and soon there will be Aras with no viable partners!"

Adler squinted at Myrtle. "...is...is this a jealousy thing? Do you resent not being able to find a partner?"

Myrtle blinked. "What?"

"Why would she be jealous?" Sally asked. She walked over to Myrtle and held her hand. "She's got me," she said, holding their clasped hands up.

Myrtle smiled, blushing. "Heh heh heh..." she giggled, muttering euphorically, "I have a girlfriend."

"...oh..." Adler said, looking between them. "I retract my statement then. So...why the concern?"

"I'm just...really concerned about some of my sisters being left alone," Myrtle said, frowning. "It's not fair. None of us asked to be stuck in a massive engineering project."

"I mean, I would argue," Sally said, stepping to the other side of the chart, "not all the Aras need non-Ara partners. Pansy and Tansy seem happy together. Heck, I don't think Rue has ever expressed interest in anyone."

"Just because my sister doesn't talk," Myrtle said, "and doesn't go asking people out on dates, doesn't mean she's a sexless child. Rue is very much not that. I've seen her make off with books and magazines from...The Closet..."

Sally and Adler both blushed. "The Closet" was where the Nomarch's former Empire crew stored all their adult material. (Why this material was communal, rather than each crewmate keeping their own private stash, was anyone's guess. To allow sharing of "resources" without needing to ask for it directly, perhaps?)

Myrtle smacked the poster with her pointer. "A-anyway!" she blushed, turning away. "When you really break it down, the dating situation gets dire. Outside of Eules and Stars, the dating prospects for Aras get slim. There are, to date, one of each non-Ara on the ship. One Adler, of course," she said, gesturing at Adler, "one Storch, one Mynah, one Kolibri..."

"For now," Sally said. "Circe and Elster are working on two more."

"But until then, only one," Myrtle said. She looked down. "Where was I? Right, then after that, one Elster and one gestalt." She pointed to the top of the chart, sparsely populated by a handful of pictures. "We can immediately discount Diodana, because one, she's our teacher...EW..." She flashed a disgusted expression. "...two, she's elderly, and three, she has ZERO interest in relationships, romantic or sexual."

"From what Kite told me," Sally said, "Diodana doesn't even have the organs for it anymore." She shrugged. "And doesn't seem to want any from the 'special replika parts' storage."

A subject the three were equally unwilling to dwell on further as The Closet.

Adler nodded. "I suppose that makes sense." He turned to the chart. "I presume Elster is also off the table, because she's our collective mother or grandmother?"

"Precisely," Myrtle said, nodding. She pointed to the silhouetted head connected to Elster by a solid line. "I'm also told she's in a committed relationship with a mystery gestalt mom calls 'The White Mother'. Even if she wasn't a parent to us all, Elster is by all evidence strictly monogamous."

"I'm beginning to understand why you reacted so badly before," Adler said, clasping hands behind his back. "With Circe and Hippolyta in a relationship..."

Sally took a marker and drew a line connecting the two. "...that takes these two off the board." She smiled. "Happy, happy, happy! They're so cute!"

"All of this not even touching on how age complicates the potential pairings," Myrtle said, shaking her head. She pointed. "For example, most of the original generation of replikas - Daisy, Tulip, Poppy, Dash, and Vanessa - won't date each other. They go back to when it was just them, Elster, and Diodana, so they see each other as siblings. And they won't date any of us current gens - anyone made in the last year - because they think we're too young for them."

"Aren't we all too young, by that metric?" Adler said. "All us replikas, I mean? None of us, besides Elster, are more than a handful of years old."

"Yeah, but we also have whole gestalt lives before that," Sally said, waving a hand. "We may not remember much, but we have enough emotional intelligence to make adult decisions. A baby certainly couldn't do this." The Eule stood back, raised herself on one hoof, and performed a pirouette.

Myrtle clapped.

"Thank you!" Sally giggled, giving a dramatic curtsy.

Adler looked at the chart again. "As...fascinating as this intellectual exercise has been," he said, clasping his hands behind his back, "I don't know if this is...that big a deal?"

"It's really not," Sally sighed. "I blame myself. I got to talking to Myrtle about everyone's love lives, and well...she became way more invested in it than me."

"'Than I'," Myrtle corrected. "And...well..." She fidgeted with her pointer. "It's not unimportant. Everyone having the option of love is important."

"Still," said Adler, "it seems like a problem that will correct itself in time. The disparity in replika types is an outgrowth of the unusual circumstances our...'family' has been under until now. The need to overhaul the Nomarch with foreign technology, to render it Warp-capable, has necessitated a large population of engineers and mechanics. With the project nearing completion, however, we will move into the phase where we begin engaging in a wider variety of activities, including mercenary work. This will undoubtedly create demand for units of the Star, Storch, Kolibri, Schnapper, and possibly Mynah varieties. The increased population will also necessitate more Eules to tend to many domestic and teaching tasks."

The Eule walked over to the Ara. "Which is exactly what I've been telling this doofus!" Sally said, grabbing Myrtle by both cheeks and pulling them. "This. Is not. A problem. Trying to min-max everyone's love lives is creepy and unnecessary!"

"Ow, ow, ow!" Myrtle said, wincing. When her face was released, she rubbed her red cheeks. "I know, okay? I just..."

"I, for my part, can't blame someone for indulging intellectual exercises, to no end but personal gratification." Adler closed his eyes and craned his neck back. "Even if it's ultimately a waste of time."

Sally looked to Myrtle, and took the Ara's hands in her own. "You know I love you, right?"

Myrtle nodded. She forced a smile. "I love you, too."

"Speaking of wasted time..."

Adler clapped a hand on Sally's shoulder.

Sally's mouth screwed up. She looked over her shoulder, nervously. "Uh..."

Adler gave his phoniest "customer service" smile. "I believe we still have a great deal of work to do, now that this digression is finished."

"...heh heh..." Sally said, laughing uneasily. "Oops."

"And I'll thank you to not advertise that it was I who found Circe and Hippolyta kissing," Adler said, continuing his phony geniality. "I would very much like to put that moment behind me, and pretend it never happened. Does this sound agreeable?"

Sally nodded. "Y-yeah..."

"P-please don't kill my girlfriend," Myrtle said, frowning. She lifted the goggles above her eyes.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Adler said. "You two will make a fine addition to my network of 'informants'. After all, understanding how the people of this organization interact on a personal level makes it far easier to manage them, and maximize organizational efficiency."

The two women cringed, nervously.

"S-Sally," Myrtle said, "I'm scared."

Sally nodded. "M-me too."

Adler smiled slyly. "Now...where were we, Sally?"

 

"Apologies for the delay, commander."

Elster rifled through the pages she was just handed. "It's no problem, Adler," she said. "Work on the Geller Field Generator ran overlong. And I needed to have some..." She frowned, looking away for a moment. "...some quality time, with the Penrose."

Adler tilted his head, hands clasped behind his back. "Does your ship need maintenance?"

"Always," Elster sighed, flipping through papers. "Both regular repairs, and some...special attention." She stared into space a moment. "There are things I'll need to tell you, Adler. Things as administrator you'll need to know."

"I appreciate your trust in me, commander," Adler said, nodding. "But...if it's all the same to you...I think I've had enough revelations for one day."

"Some other time, then," Elster nodded. She finished her examination. "Everything seems in order here. Good work."

Elster took up a pen and checked a box on the front page, signifying the information was received. A seemingly small bureaucratic formality, but which could come back to bite them in the future if not properly addressed. Or, so Adler insisted.

She set the papers down and tapped her lips pensively. "...so what revelations are we talking about, exactly?"

"Nothing overly serious," Adler said, closing his eyes. "Just a matter of...interpersonal dynamics I became privy to, by chance."

"Anything you can share?" Elster said. "It's alright if it's private."

He considered a moment. "...Sally made the observation that this sort of thing will get out on its own, eventually," Adler said. "In any event, I suppose there's no harm in telling our commander." He leaned over and lowered his voice. "I know for a fact Circe and Hippolyta are a romantic item now."

"Really?" Elster said, eyes lighting up. She stroked her chin. "You're sure?"

"I saw them sharing passionate kisses in the Kolibri dorm. I'm very sure."

Elster whistled. She smiled. "I'll be damned," she said, with no small amount of unspoken irony. "Good for them." She looked away. "Guess Diodana owes me a drink."

"What was the bet?" Adler asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

"Whether those two would either get together, or come to blows. I was always optimistic they'd at least become friends." Elster tapped her cheek. "Diodana assumed Circe would end up psychically crushing Hippolyta's skull." Her smile faded. "Maybe 'hoped' is a better for it."

"Myrtle was distraught," Adler said, "to know her mother was with a Storch, rather than with an Ara. She had a chart and everything."

"Oh, you saw the chart, did you?" Elster said, smiling. She chuckled.

"It was...enlightening," Adler said, closing his eyes and smiling. "She showed you?"

"I take an interest in all my kids," Elster said. Her smile faded. "At least, I try to. So much to do..."

"...so little time to do it," Adler nodded.

Elster tapped the table. "I'm going to miss this."

"This?"

"This...period of relative calm," Elster said. "When there's only the work. Challenging work, yes, but stimulating. In a good way. The Aras are the ones who are becoming tech priests in their own right. But I've been learning too. It's been nice." She smiled sadly. "It's been nice, spending so much time surrounded by you all. Building things up...building a..."

"A family?" Adler ventured.

Elster nodded. "I never thought I'd enjoy that," she said. "Never thought I'd have the chance. Before, it was just Ariane and I. Then, just me and...well, just me. Until I can get Ariane back. I never thought there would be anything else."

Adler clasped his hands behind his back. He stood impassive.

"...things will only get bloodier, from here," Elster said, sighing. "I don't want to do it. Really, I don't. I'd love if I could just...fly away, to the ends of the galaxy. Let the Imperium burn it all to cinders. But I can't." Last vestige of her smile vanished. She looked so tired. "I've put it off too long. The Work. My work, the real one. The work for which all this..." She gestured around, "...has been in service to. The bloody work. Where I don't create, but destroy. Where I don't bring life into being, but snuff it out."

"Can it not be ignored?" Adler asked. "Just...leave the blood work to itself?"

"Never," Elster said. "I can't let it go. I broke one promise, once. I can't break this one. I could never live with myself. After all, this house could never be a home without her in it. And she lies there, on the other side of that bloody work."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. Elster permitted herself a small smile. "Still...it has been a lovely dream. I hope to have it again, someday."

---

"Remind me where this record comes from?"

The disk began to spin, filling the room with an analog static. As Ariane walked over and reached out her hand, the staccato strum of a guitar began to play.

"Kitezh," Ariane said, drawing Elster in as the drums joined them.

They smiled, looking into each other's eyes. As the clack of the castanets wafted in, and the piano took up the melody, they began their tango.

In sync, they swept their legs in a circular motion, then stepped as one. Sliding forward.

"Kitezh," Elster said, dipping Ariane so one of her legs extended out between the replika's own. "That's in Empire territory, right?"

"For now," Ariane said, allowing herself to be dipped again, only this time hooking her leg around Elster's, for support. "The Nation wants it, as it wants everything."

They spun around, before Ariane arched her back and leaned on her knee, pressing her face close to Elster's. They stood again, and Elster walked forward.

"The Nation hates dancing," Ariane said, turning and stepping, back and forth, in time with Elster's steps.

"Sex, standing up, fully clothed, right?" Elster said. "That's what you always say."

Ariane brought her leg up with each pivot now, kicking playfully. "Exactly. The Nation hates it." The two slowed, walking back and forth together. "But if it has one love greater than its hate, it's a chance for propaganda."

Elster lifted Ariane up and spun them around. Once, twice, thrice.

Landing, they stood up straight together. Stock still.

"The only time the Nation ever encouraged public dancing," Ariane said, as the two began playfully kicking around each other. "When it came time to make Kitezh, the arid planet, into a cultural icon. Something to be loved, longed for..."

They spun around and around, gently.

"...and, eventually, won." Ariane smiled. "Or so the Nation wanted."

Elster lifted Ariane and twirled, so the tips of her toes scraped the floor as they spun.

"No matter how much it hates it, the Nation always covets what the Empire has," Ariane said.

Elster took her hand from Ariane's and looked away. She smiled, knowing and expecting the free, pale hand would rise to her cheek. Forcing the replika to look back at her dance partner. Part and parcel of the dance. A formality, writ in motion. They looked in each other's eyes.

Elster swept Ariane up, rocking her forward and back gently, like a pendulum. Before finally spinning her. Ariane bent down, extending a hand out and down toward her backwards pointing foot. Ariane stroked her own leg sensually, before Elster lifted her back up to standing.

"So that's why this record was part of the collection," Elster said, as Ariane slowly raised her head back to upright position. "Is," she corrected.

"It's funny," Ariane said, as Elster walked forward and the gestalt kicked high from side to side. "I seem to recall the tango fad being quashed fairly quickly."

Elster rotated around Ariane as she kicked, so they spun around the gestalt's back heel. "Gee, I can't imagine why." She smiled.

They stood still, then Ariane extended her foot. Pressing it against Elster's hoof, the gestalt dragged it slowly, sensually up the replika's leg. Ariane smiled slyly, coming in close. "It is a mystery," she said, before the two kissed.

Breaking lips away, Elster lifted her, so Ariane could hook both legs around one of Elster's. Then, they spun together.

"I suppose no one at the Penrose Program got the memo about the tango ban," Ariane said, before hooking her leg around Elster's. The two spun together. "Oh well. Our gain."

Elster tossed the gestalt lightly into the air, before dipping her down. She and Ariane kissed just as the music finished. They froze, enjoying themselves and each other.

When they rose to stand, Elster and Ariane laughed.

Notes:

The Dance

Chapter 22: The Great Leap Forward

"Engine output?"

"Stable."

"Void shields?"

"Cranked to max that normal operational tolerances will allow. Nothing material is bound to get through."

Elster nodded, adjusting the naval officer's hat on her head. The uniform's matching overcoat, lovingly crafted, hung on her shoulders, secured by a chain around her neck. "And the Geller Field?"

Diodana looked over her shoulder, from where she manned her station. "Online and functioning," she said, her voice augmented and filtered through her respirator. "If it fails, it will not be for lack of attention on our part. Of that, you can be assured."

Elster gulped, steeling her nerve. She tapped a button on the panel in front of her. "Circe," she said, loud enough so the microphones could pick her up, "how are we looking?"

From the speakers, the Kolibri's voice projected, filtered by electronics and backed by an echo. "The Warp is as calm as it's going to be," she said, housed in her spherical metal chamber. "The drive's...the Nomarch's machine spirit knows we're about to leave. She can sense it. She's eager." A chuckle on the other end of the line. "The Nomarch badly wants to fly again, Elster. To dash across the bounds of space."

Elster smiled. "Good. Let's not disappoint her."

The replika commander stood on the bridge, surveying the replikas (mostly Aras) seated in alcoves and stations before her.

Over years of labor, the already state-of-the-art (for Eusan civilization) bridge stations were augmented. CRT monitors for the ship's native systems augmented with LCD monitors that piped specialist data from the Nomarch's many "upgrades" to its controllers.

Along the sides of the rectangular room, stations for manning the ship's pre-Invasion weapons were similarly augmented, providing feeds for lascannon arrays. Against ships of Imperium quality and size, they would barely make a dent, even if they punched through their void shields. But it was the best the Nomarch could sustain, without massive overhauls. At least lascannons could repel smaller or less advanced craft, and perhaps deter pirates or boarders.

Plus, Elster found some small comfort in being better armed. Even if, in most situations, their ideal response to being engaged in the void was either flight or negotiation. One does not enter a warzone without at least a sidearm.

On the far end of the room, the bridge windows - heavily reinforced - were framed above and below by additional screens, showing the view outside from cameras. Every direction was in full view.

"Is there anything else we need to do?" Elster asked the room. "Say it now."

Bridge crew only chimed in to confirm that everything that could be in place already was.

Adler entered through the sliding doors and stood several paces to Elster's left. "I've double and triple checked, commander," he said, hands clasped behind his back. "Barring unexpected trouble, the ship and its crew have everything, and everyone, tied down that can be so."

Elster nodded, then faced forward. Shut her eyes. She breathed. Inhaled. Exhaled. Locked her jaw, to quiet the creeping fear that threatened to overtake her.

There's nothing for it and no use stalling, she thought. We can't prepare anymore. We just have to do it, and take what comes next.

"Lower the blast shields," she said. She felt the mechanisms engage through the hull, as thick metal blast shields lowered over the bridge windows. The black sea of nothing beyond, broken up by a million tiny flecks of light, disappeared. Only by monitor could they see the cosmos, in all directions.

Her eyes snapped open. "It's time," she said. A hand extended forward, flipping a switch. She took up the microphone. "Achtung! Achtung! Attention crew. This is your commander speaking."

The bridge crew all turned to face her.

"Once I finish this speech, the Nomarch 06 will make its inaugural jump into Warp space," she continued. "Take positions, and strap yourselves in. If all goes well, we'll transition seamlessly into that other dimension, and begin our flight to another star." She exhaled hard from her nose. "...if all goes poorly, we will all perish." She gulped, then cracked a nervous smile. "Diodana has assured me if this occurs, our deaths will most likely be so swift, you won't have time to register it. So don't worry, everyone. You'll either make the transition safely, or it won't be your problem anymore. Either way, there's nothing more you can do. Just relax."

Bridge crew laughed nervously.

Elster nodded. "...ladies, gentleman..." She nodded to Adler, who nodded back stoically. "...and non-binaries. Replikas, and gestalt..." She nodded to Diodana, who inclined her head fractionally, expression unreadable behind four photo-receptors and a breathing apparatus. "Fighters, technicians, stewards..."

She softened. "...my children..." Elster said, becoming cognizant of the lump in her throat, that could be terror or tenderness. "...I thank you. All of you. This could never have been possible without each and every one of you. Your effort, your pain, your...boundless inventiveness. The making of this ship from what it was, to what it now is, was a labor of love. No matter what happens, be proud. You did this. WE did this."

She let the moment linger, before continuing. "I was told, quite clearly, that this course was insane," Elster said. She shot a bemused look at the tech priest, who crossed her arms. "She was right, of course. It was, and IS, insane. But that's been the human experience since its inception. It was insane to look up at the stars from our forebears' tiny home, and dare to dream of going there. To vault the heavens, and write our names on foreign stones and in the orbits of worlds and stars. It was insane to dream of marrying flesh and artifice, and in doing so elevate them both. Whether replika or tech priest, we are where the falling angels of the Machine God meet the rising ape." She clenched her fist and raised it. "We are about to be the first of Eusan civilization to attempt to cross the Rubicon Cosmic, under our own power! If that be insane, then let it not be said we do not live up to the legacy of our species!"

Many on the bridge politely clapped. Elster blushed, shrinking down.

She coughed. "...if you are inclined to it, pray now," Elster said, more quietly. "Whether your faith is in the Machine God, the Grand Empress...something else entirely. In me, if you want to embarrass me...give your prayers now." She sniffed, standing up straight. "For myself, I place my faith in all of you."

The knot in her throat formed again. "I love you all very much. Whatever happens, I will never forget you."

She wiped her eye, gritting her teeth to stop tears from forming. She grimaced. "Now! Onward! To new frontiers! See you on the other side!" She snapped the microphone off, and pointed. "Begin! Start the countdown!"

Hurry, she thought, before I lose my goddamn nerve.

Aras, formerly enraptured by Elster's performance, turned back to their stations. Furiously clicking keys and flipping switches. Around them, ovearhead lights went out, replaced with red emergency lights. Bathing them all in a haze of red, broken only by the glow of computer screens. To conserve power for the jump, and to signal the imminent translation.

Vanessa, sitting at a comms station with headphones on her head, snapped up her own microphone. She tugged on a lock of her long, straw-colored hair. "All crew to stations! P-prepare for Warp Translation!"

To Elster's side, Adler calmly walked to a chair set in the wall and sat. Strapped himself in.

Diodana merely remained seated, not bothering to secure herself. An experienced hand at Warp travel, she knew better than to worry about turbulence.

Elster followed her example. Eschewing sitting in the big captain's chair behind her, she simply stood. Leaning on the dashboard before her.

Tulip turned, giving a hand signal to Vanessa. The Eule nodded, and held the mic to her lips.

"Warp Translation in t-minus ten seconds!"

Elster gripped the console.

"Zehn...Neun...Acht...Sieben..."

Elster set her jaw, gulping. A pit formed in her stomach. Even the emergency lights flickered, as the Nomarch's engines siphoned as much power as they could.

"...Sechs...Funf...Vier..."

Shivering, Elster shut her eyes. Phantom goosebumps felt across her artificial skin.

"...D-drei...Zwei..."

Please, please, please, please, please! Elster thought, sweat pouring down her brow. Let them all live! Please!

"...Eins...Null! Warp Translation initiated!"

Elster blurted out, "GO!"

Tulip, thumb poised over the big, uncovered red button, pressed down with all her might.

As she flinched, Elster felt the entire world drop out from under her.

 

"..."

The replika commander's teeth hurt from clenching. Face contorted in suspense. Eyes clasped shut.

Elster quaked at the thought of opening them. Terrified she would look, and see, once again, the infinite sea of scarlet. Stretched out to every horizon, broken only by jutting black pylons. That she had delivered her children to an ignominious death, with only the Daemon there to console her and tell her how many more souls were added to her tally.

Elster shook, poised on the knife's edge of victory and despair.

Tentatively, she raised her head, and cracked open one eye.

"..."

She gasped, not realizing she'd held her breath. Her eyes shot open wide.

The world she'd left when she shut her eyes was right where she'd left it, the moment before. There was red, but only from the emergency lights.

The bridge crew, seemingly also wary of their possible doom, slowly opened their own eyes and looked around. Several clutched at their own chests, unsure if it was all real.

Screens tuned to the outside of the ship flickered and glitched, showing between digital artifacts a bewildering panorama of colors and shapes.

A mechanical finger flicked a switch on the dashboard. A respirator leaned close to a microphone.

"Congratulations, replikas, on a successful first jump. Well done, and welcome to the Warp. Omnissiah be praised!"

Elster blinked, then looked over at Diodana. The tech priest gave another nod.

The whole bridge - and, from the muffled sounds outside the room, the whole ship - erupted into cheers and claps. Tulip jumped from her seat and embraced Vanessa, who hugged back, almost on the verge of tears. A loose lock of artificial blond hair clutched in her hand.

Their commander and mother almost fell as she sank into the captain's chair. Elster exhaled, rubbing her pale, clammy, sweat-covered face with her hand.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! she thought, on the verge of tears. Not knowing who exactly she prayed to. Certainly not to Vashtorr. No, this was her victory, not his. Hers and theirs.

A hand patted Elster's shoulder. She looked up, eye peeking between two splayed fingers.

"Congratulations, commander," Adler said, evenly. The corners of his mouth turned up, just so. "I, of course, never doubted for a moment." Then, his duty done, he stepped away. "I shall inspect the crew, to ensure no mishaps occurred."

"R-right..." Elster breathed, nodding. "Thank you."

Diodana walked over. "Not a bad first translation."

Elster smiled. "Did you have any doubt?"

"Immensely so, yes," Diodana said, shrugging. "Even the best voidship possible, in the best maintenance achievable, cannot escape the chance of mishap. One cannot cross the bounds of reality without risk. Dozens, if not hundreds, of Imperium and Mechanicum vessels are lost to the Warp, even on routine flights, every year. Such is the nature of things."

"I told you not to tell me the odds, before we left," Elster said, sitting up. "How close were we to death just now?"

"I rated our survival at less than 1%," Diodana said.

"..." Elster blanched.

"I am joking, of course," Diodana said, in the same exact tone she always used. "I was instrumental in the refit, so the survival chance was much higher." She wagged a finger. "Worry not, though. While translating back into Realspace will carry with it more risk, and there are thousands of calamities that could occur in the meantime, the worst odds are already behind us. If we were going to die, 95% chance it would have occurred the moment we attempted the jump."

Elster sank back into her chair. "Good," she sighed, "I'm glad." As Diodana wandered off to examine all systems, Elster clutched her chest.

Her heart wouldn't stop racing, from the shock of almost losing everything.

Despite this, Elster smiled.

A new chapter awaits. So much to do, so little time to do it. I can't wait.

---

"'Ere we go! 'Ere we go! 'Ere we go!"

Pouring from the treeline, trampling the dry summer grass, the greenskinz came.

Half naked, clad in animal hides and stolen, stretched-to-bursting jeans. Snarling and hooting and chanting. Many heads stuck with wild and matted hair-squigs. Bursting muscles hefted scrap choppas and one-handed shootas.

They's ain't Da Old Wayz, thought Gerchek the Strangla, atop his Squigasaur. The Beastboss raised his own shoota. He smiled. But still, da dakka is music to my ears.

He fired a shot into the air. "Forward, boyz!"

In the distance, the sound of shots and the billow of gunsmoke filled the air. The first scattered volleys, from beyond the ditches to the trenches, and from behind barricades of wood and scrap metal. Slugs and buckshot and even the odd musket ball.

From a ramshackle frontier town as what the Orks raided, they expected little resistance. Dogged resistance, to be sure, as humies sought to defend homes, lives, and livelihoods. But almost never terribly organized.

Not this time. The defenders were drilled, and arranged into ordered lines. Such that when the green tide approached the defenses, their ranks were perforated by volleys timed and aimed to achieve maximum effect. Whatever the situation, the humies had better training. Mayhaps, even a humie boss, what could whip the sorry sacks into shape. Enough to make them a real thorn in any Ork's hide.

Gerchek chuckled. Good on ya, humies. Finally, a propa fight. But we ain't worried about the shootas. That's what grotz is for, afta all.

Diminutive gretchen, wielding knives and sharpened sticks, clad in little more than loincloths and necklaces of tiny animal bones, swarmed the defensive line in droves. They were terrified of humie gunfire, of course. Especially since the shots were landing far more accurately and with more regularity than the stunty greenskinz were told to expect. Sending wave after wave of snarling, hooting grotz usually worked to terrify humies into panicked flight.

Still, the gretchen remained more frightened of the hide-clad runt-herders behind them. Orks wielding twisted, wooden man-catchers and leathery, cracking whips. So the poor blighters pressed on, even as their numbers dwindled. Scrambling over growing mounds of their own dead.

Granted, tons of gretchen feigned death, even letting others step on them, and crawled away as soon as they thought they were unnoticed. Others dove into the ditch before the defensive line and started hurriedly digging into the dirt. But it was the thought that counted.

The Beastboss, naturally, expected all of this. The gretchen were never meant to kill the humies on their own. They were meant to either scare them, or soak up as much of their ammunition as possible. If a lucky few broke or snuck through, good for them. The point was to soften the humies up. That way, when the Boyz and the Nobs and the Squighog Boyz slammed into their lines, it would be a proper scrap.

Gercheck urged his beast forward, getting to the head of the Ork line. Behind him, struggling to keep up, were the Squighog Boyz. They wouldn't be left behind. Good lads, he thought, grinning.

His mount crested a small hill, to add to his already substantive height. The Beastboss turned, raising his shoota high. He fired a shot.

"This is it, boyz! We's gonna show them humies the meanin' of the word 'Krump'!"

His followers hooted and hollered, yellowed teeth bared and eyes alight with the lust for battle.

Gerchek the Strangla pointed his choppa forward. With all the air in his chest, he belted out that word every Ork, on every mudball, loved to hear: "WAAAA-"

ZZZZZZAP.

The Strangla's body was bathed in red, as his head burst by a well-placed las bolt.

Beast Snaggas ground to a halt, gaping up in slack-jawed shock. They watched as the lifeless body of their Boss slid from the saddle and plummeted to the grassy earth.

"...da boss is dead!" came a shout from the bewildered mob.

 

"Confirmed direct hit. The boss is down."

Elster exhaled, looking up from the scope of her long-las. She savored the view of the ork leader falling limply to the ground. Just as she savored another tally removed from her Soul Count. "Acknowledged," she said, surveying the battlefield.

The Squigasaur seemed, from their perch atop the roof of the trading post, unbothered by its master's absence, if it noticed at all. The red blob, a cavernous maw on legs, simply ran forward on its own, charging towards the ditches and barricades.

She adjusted the hood of the poncho she wore. "Sight me in on that beast, Dash," Elster said, leaning forward and scoping back in.

"Got it," Dash said, peering through her binoculars, beneath the shade of a wide-brimmed hat. She muttered coordinates to Elster. She gave wind speed and direction, more out of habit than need. The long-las cut through air as easily as flesh.

ZZZZZZZAP.

The las bolt fired from the extended barrel, a crimson beam soaring over the heads of defenders. It struck the Squigasaur in one of its eyes, boring a hole of charred and blackened meat. The creature stumbled, screeching.

"Direct hit," Dash said.

Hippolyta whistled. "Nice shooting!" she said, peeking over the railing where they took cover. Her long leather duster fluttered in the wind, even from her position on her knees. She was simply too tall for the coat to fully cover her.

"Tell the men on the ground to focus down the beast," Elster said, adjusting the intensity knob on her long-las.

"Poor thing," Maria (EULR-N0604) said, barely poking her eyes above the railing. A bead of sweat clung to a dark brown strand of hair sticking out beneath her helmet, before falling and spattering on the whitewashed wood.

"That means you, dingus!" Hippolyta said, poking the Eule's helmet.

"Oh! R-right!" Maria said, jumping. She fumbled with the handheld radio clipped to the front of her vest. "All d-defenders, focus that monster! Over!"

"Got it, over," buzzed the reply.

Below, indistinct shouting came down the line, as the town militia redirected their weapons. Rifles and shotguns and the odd musket (where loaded) went off, pouring volleys into the creature.

The Squigasaur bellowed, thrashing half-blind. While the shots were often of little use against its thick hide, they peppered and stung it like a swarm of bees. In its haste to charge the line, it failed to see the overturned log in its way. It tripped, rolling into the ditch. Body crushing those grots unfortunate enough to find themselves beneath it as it rolled. The beast's tail whipped hard, accidentally caving in a wood barricade. Men and women jumped out of the way of wood shrapnel.

"Is it really okay to leave the rest of the Orks alone?" Maria asked, trying to tear her eyes away from the writhing, feral beast.

"They can wait," Elster said, scoping towards the Squigasaur. She aimed for the mouth. "They have bigger matters on their minds now."

ZZZZZZAP.

The long-las shot bore through the Squigasaur's gaping maw, shredding its tongue and causing it to shudder violently. It wasn't dead, but it wasn't getting up anytime soon.

The radio roared to life. "Get some grenades on it!" someone said.

Elster sighed. Typical.

Maria ducked down, clapping hands over her ears. The other replikas waited until they saw the explosives flying through the air, before taking cover.

BOOM.

The Eule peeked up, just it time to see a cloud of gore fly up from the mangled squig's body. "...poor thing..."

"You keep saying that," Hippolyta grimaced, watching the blood shower over the terrified militia. "I guarantee you, that thing would have killed you without a second thought."

"It's just an animal, right?" Maria said, frowning. "I get killing the Orks, but are the monsters really responsible?"

Elster shrugged. "They're all part of the same Orkoid fungal ecosystem," she said, turning her scope towards the Ork lines once again. "Or so the people on this planet tell me. They're just as eager for battle as the Orks and Goblins."

"If you say so..." The Eule narrowed her eyes towards the distant green mob, blocking the sun's glare with her hand. "...you said the Orks had bigger matters to attend to. What do you mean?"

"Hip, give her your binocs," Elster said, scoping in. "Dash, sight me."

"Roger," said Dash.

Hippolyta handed the Eule her binoculars and pointed. "Take a look," she said, smiling. "You're going to love this."

Maria looked through the lenses and dialed the focus. Her eyebrows rose. "...why are they fighting each other?"

Through the binoculars, she could see the once unified mob in complete disarray.

Most common Beast Snagga Boyz were simply tussling or wrestling, punching and biting. But in the center, three figures engaged in an all-out brawl. Discharging guns and swinging scrap blades. Two Beast Nobs on foot, and a Nob astride a squighog, backed up by his Squighog Boyz.

Even a Runtherd ran into the melee, leading a pack of gretchen, suddenly trying to strangle a foot-bound Nob from behind with his whip. Naturally, his grot backup were either sneakily shanking their bigger cousins, or pretending to contribute, or were being trampled underfoot by complete accident.

Weapons discharge, formerly only the province of the big Orks in the center, became contagious. Their war-lust stoked, they escalated the tussle into a bloody civil war. No quarter offered, nor given.

"You just started coming along, so this is all new to you," Hippolyta said, patting the Eule on the shoulder. "But we've been fighting them off and on for six months now. This is just how Orks are."

ZZZZZAP.

Maria saw the long-las bolt core through both the ambitious runtherd AND the Nob he attempted to strangle. Their torsos smoked as they crumpled to the ground. Moments later, the Nob staggered to his feet, somehow still barely alive. He kept swinging, spitting blood and vitriol.

Elster sighed. "Another kill that's going to get stolen," she muttered under her breath. She adjusted the intensity on her long-las again. "Ork society, for lack of a better word, is rooted solely in strength," she said. "It's hierarchical. The horde must always have a boss. Take out the boss, and by necessity the Orks must establish the new pecking order."

The Eule frowned. "How did you know that guy was the boss?"

"Aside from being on the largest mount?" Elster asked, scoping in.

ZZZZZZAP.

A Squighog Boy fell, his mount losing control and biting the nearest thing in reach. A Beast Snagga Boy, in this case.

"...because there's only one metric Orks consider when deciding who to follow: size," she said, unscoping. "The more Orks fight, the bigger they grow. The bigger they grow, the smarter they become. As such, it's writ in their DNA, in their blood. Follow the biggest Ork, because the biggest Ork is the Boss. Quod erat demonstrandum."

"Oh," Maria said, lowering the binoculars. She handed them back to Hippolyta.

"They're just that simple." Elster checked her ammo, then scoped back in. "Sight me. I want to thin those riders."

"Got it," Dash said, adjusting her binoculars.

Somewhere below, at the base of the building, a woman screamed.

"Uh, girls...we got company!"

The replikas turned around.

Double Tap, positioned on the other side of the roof, peered over the edge. She raised her submachine gun. "It's grots!"

RT RT RT RT RT.

The replikas jumped into action. Dash and Hippolyta took positions next to Double Tap. Dash brandishing her favorite shotgun, Hippolyta an SMG.

Elster put down her long-las and took up a regular lasgun. Looking over the side of the railing, she shouted. "Maria! Tell the militia! They've broken perimeter!"

"R-right!" Maria said, trembling. She fumbled with the radio. "All u-units! Goblins in the town!"

"Shit!" came the static-y reply. "Squads B and F, clear them out! We've got the line covered!"

Elster craned down. Small groups of gretchen were swarming the dusty alleys behind the trading post. Terrorizing townsfolk, ransacking storerooms, and dragging off grain sacks or chicken crates or women's clothing. "Verdammt!"

From their perch, the replikas rained fire down on the greenskins. Choosing shots so as to avoid collateral damage, at least to civilians. No one seemed to mind a barrel smashed or grain sack shredded, if it got the grots to stop attacking people.

"Miserable green motherfuckers!" Hippolyta yelled, unloading a whole magazine into a group. It briefly scattered, then charged the trading post walls.

"I think they're coming up, ma'am!" Double Tap said. She sprayed her SMG, then discarded it when empty.

"Fall back and ready to defend!" Elster yelled, retreating to the front of the roof overlooking main street. She checked over the side, for any flankers.

Maria trembled, fumbling with her laspistol.

Two tall legs stood in front of her. The Eule looked up.

"Stay behind me," Double Tap said, pulling a riot shield off her back and a stun baton from her belt. She smiled. "Trinity would kill me if I let you die."

"Just be ready to shoot, spring bean," Hippolyta shouted, falling back. She discarded her SMG and pulled out a laspistol.

"Here they come!" Dash yelled, backing away just in time for a grot to jump up onto the railing.

BANG.

Her shotgun smoking, Dash shredded the creature, sending it plummeting to the ground below, screaming. A spent shell clattered to the ground at Dash's hooves.

"Nh heh heh!" a gretchen chuckled, popping over the railing and rushing Hippolyta. It brandished a knife.

The Storch simply kicked the thing's teeth in. "No you don't!" she grimaced, raising the laspistol.

ZAP.

"Argh!" it cried as it's thin, spindly leg was blown off. It writhed on the ground, flesh blackened and cauterized.

Another grot jumped up, then looked between its de-legged companion and the angry stilt-woman in front of it. "Eh..." it grumbled, eyes widening in terror.

Zap.

It's head exploded.

"Here they come!" Double Tap said, as two grots rushed her. "Fire!"

Maria gripped the laspistol with both hands and squeezed the trigger, aiming past her defender.

Zap.

The bolt sailed over the grot's head, which ducked in fear. It clapped its hands on its head.

When its companion kept running, waving a sharpened stick wildly, Double Tap waited until the last moment before lunging forward. Slamming the creature's face with her shield. "Wah!" it cried, its nose broken.

D.T. jabbed it with her stun prod, sending electric shocks through its diminutive frame. "Keep firing!"

The Eule's weapon shook in her hands. She steadied herself, then squeezed the trigger again.

Zap. Zap.

One of the bolts hit their target, impacting the cowering gretchen's chest. A hole cut clean through, leaving a smoking ring where its most vital organs should be. It collapsed to the wooden roof, the smell of cooked meat wafting off.

Maria's eyes widened. "...I-I did it! I hit it!"

"Good work, kid," Hippolyta said, pressing her hoof down on the wounded grot at her feet. She peered over and unloaded another shot to down a rising greenskin. "Don't get cocky!"

Behind them, Elster smiled, looking over her shoulder. Then she turned back to the railing. Her lasgun picked out green targets below, one by one.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

 

"Damn...think that's the last of them."

The roof, the street, and the alleys below, were covered in blood and grot corpses by the time reinforcements arrived. With the ground level flooding with militia, any greenskins left standing ran with all haste.

"A few live ones up here, Elster," Dash said, kicking a twitching grot. "You'll have the honors, yes?"

"Hardly an honor," Elster said, but she nodded. She pulled out a knife. She didn't want to do any more heat damage to the wooden roof than they already had.

Maria, still shaking on the ground with adrenaline, watched with horror as Elster stalked from body to body. Planting a blade through their chest or brain. "W-w-why kill them?"

"Elster has her reasons," Dash said, patting the Eule on the shoulder. She tucked a hand under Maria's arm. "Need help up?"

"O-okay," Maria said, rising to her hooves with Dash's help.

"Besides," said Double Tap, stowing her stun baton, "if you're worried about them suffering, you should be glad they're getting Elster's mercy. It's not like these townsfolk like Orks enough to give them medical treatment or lock them in a jail cell."

Hardly a mercy, where their souls are going. Elster immediately pushed this thought down, back in its compartment, where it belonged. Surveying the roof, she asked, "any alive on the street below?"

"A couple," Hippolyta said, pointing.

Elster walked over, looked down. "Move out of the way," she shouted down, raising a laspistol. She watched militiamen back off quickly. She aimed at the bloody grots below.

Zap. Zap.

"Sorry!" Elster called down to the spooked locals. She stepped away from the edge. "Dash, how's the situation with the Orks out there?"

Dash took position at the railing again and raised her binoculars. "...looks like the mob has chosen a new boss."

"Which one?" Elster asked, taking up her long-las again.

"Mounted guy," Dash said. "Turns out, riding a monster gives you an unfair advantage."

Elster scoped in. "Let's fix that."

ZZZZZZAP.

Through her scope, she saw the triumphant Nob lose an arm.

"Confirmed hit. But we know he can survive that." Dash frowned. "Probably keep fighting, too."

Elster adjusted her aim.

ZZZZZZAP.

"...aaaaand that's a confirmed kill," Dash said, watching the Nob's body fall from his saddle and add his blood to the already soaked grass. "New boss is dead."

"What happens now?" Maria asked, wobbling over.

"Unless the band decides to renew their power struggle," Elster said, fiddling with the scope, "they'll probably hightail it. They're halved after all that."

"Either way," Hippolyta said, sitting down, "it's a matter of mopping up. Without a coherent leader, those bastards are broken."

Double Tap stood behind Maria and patted her helmet. The Eule flinched, then looked up.

"You did good today," D.T. said. She pulled the mask from her face and flashed a smile. "I'll need to tell Trinity all about it."

Maria smiled uneasily. She enjoyed the praise, but still wasn't sure she deserved it. Or that killing was even praiseworthy.

Still, she was alive at the end of the day. That had to count for something.

Elster aimed the long-las, picking out the last remaining runtherd.

ZZZZZAP.

"Confirmed kill."

 

"Here's your compensation, Lady E."

Elster picked up the pouch, feeling the weight in her hands. Felt the heft of real gold coins. She handed it off to Dash, who dutifully loosened the drawstring and began counting. Elster nodded, pulling down her cotton hood. "Thank you, governor."

"And thank you, ma'am," the elderly statesmen smiled, "for all the help you've been these last few months," he said, splaying out his hands amiably. "I think I speak for the rest of the territories when I say you've done so much to make our frontier safer. Not just the greenskins, but the cattle rustlers, the bandits, the insurgents..."

"Just doing my job, sir," Elster said. Her fingers played with the fraying hem of her poncho.

The governor nodded. His smile and eyes grew sad. "Unfortunately, this may be the last job I have for you."

"How so?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"The Senate had a vote the other day," he said.

"I didn't know they were in session."

"They called an emergency session, on account of the...Imperium question," the governor sighed.

Elster looked down. "Ah. How did the vote go?" she asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"135 to 66, with 19 abstaining," he said. "The 'Aye's had it. The United Territories of Contenji have agreed to become a vassal state of the Imperium of Man." He gave a sardonic chuckle. "Long live the Emperor, and all that."

"Does this mean you're going to be out of a job?" Dash said, sliding the coins back in the pouch.

"Hopefully not," the governor said. "Having as much of the existing power structure in place would make the...transition easier. But it's not really up to me. Will the Imperium let the people of the territories continue voting? Who knows. What I know for sure is, they'll have the power to come in and change whatever it is they feel like."

"The people could rebel," Elster said. "They wouldn't need to just accept the decision of the senators."

"They sure could, and probably will. Though for official reasons I can't condone that, of course," he said. "Some might even stay independent for a while. Lots of homesteads out here, doing as they will. It would take quite some time to get everyone into 'compliance'. But I suspect plenty of folks will just go along to get along. They want to farm or raise cattle. Most folks don't want trouble."

Elster nodded. "I understand." She frowned. "What will happen next year, when the Orks need another culling?"

"I can't guarantee anything about next year," the governor said, shaking his head. He wiped his brow with a cloth. "Certainly, I'll try to impress upon our new government the importance of thinning the greenskin population. Who knows? Maybe they'll send regiments to clear the forest. Burn their fungal nests down to the bedrock, so they never come back. That would be something."

"I suppose neither of us can count on job security," Elster said, shrugging. She smiled. "It's been a pleasure working with you, governor."

"Lady E, the pleasure has been all mine," the governor smiled. He held out his hand. The replika reached over and shook it. "Good luck in your future endeavors."

"You as well," Elster said.

She and Dash departed, the latter carrying their bag of gold. A uniformed footman held the office door open, allowing them to leave.

As they were led down the well-appointed hallway, their hooves knocking prominently on the hardwood floor, Dash stretched her arms behind her head. "So we're out of a job, huh?" she groaned, in Eusan. "Again."

"Looks like it," Elster nodded, sighing. "A shame. This was easy, consistent work. Low risk. Little Imperial presence. Verdammt noch mal."

"Better than getting run out of Mordia, at least," Dash said, chuckling. "What do we do now?"

"Don't know yet." Elster shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. They were stopped before an elevator set with an ornate, wrought-iron fence. The platform trundling up to them audibly.

As the elevator arrived, its uniformed operator smiling and opening the gate, Elster exhaled.

"...I think we leave..." she said, poised before the threshold. "Leave the system, I mean. Move on. The Imperium will only tighten its grip here, now that it's just the core worlds holding out. They won't last much longer."

As they stepped through, turning to look back at the elevator gate as it closed, Dash said, "Sounds good. I'll tell the others." As the gate closed and the operator placed a hand on the lever, she added, "Any ideas where to go next?"

Elster felt the elevator jerk to life, beginning their descent. She stared into space.

"I'm feeling...homesick."

Chapter 23: Carrion Bird Camaraderie

Notes:

Because I always thought it was a shame she only had a cameo in the final game.

"...ngh...there you are."

Shovel raised pounds of dirt, casting them aside. The gestalt planted the blunt end into the dirt and crouched, using it to support her weight. Her hand dusted soil away from the metal surface. Vat-grown skin long ago decayed from the face, until only the painted metal rictis grin of a skull remained. Artificial eyes, lenses scratched by contact with earth particles, stared out from their sockets, dark and dead and empty. Ghosts given up long ago.

"I'm sorry I can't leave you to rest," she said to the skull, wiping her sweat-soaked brow. She took up her shovel again. "I wouldn't defile you so, if there were alternatives. But there are living replikas - your sisters - who need your parts badly. I hope you understand." She pressed the business end of the shovel to the earth and kept digging.

The gestalt was pulling the excavated replika cadaver from the ground when she heard the crunch of dry earth, and felt the shadows pass over her. She froze.

"You there. Up here."

She whipped her head up, heart skipping a beat. From above, first one, then multiple people appeared, silhouetted against the glare of the afternoon sun.

The gestalt dropped the replika and grabbed her shovel. She froze, hand halfway to the pistol tucked in her belt, when she realized the figures were heavily armed.

Eyes wide, gritted teeth, heart racing. She held her breath.

This is it, she thought, with mounting terror, they caught me. I'm going to die. I'm going to die and they'll probably just bury me in this hole, along with all the others.

Facing death in the face, from the bottom of a hole she gouged in the pitiless ground. Almost nostalgic, for the veteran.

"Long time no see, Rebecca."

A cloud moved in front of the sun, cutting down on the glare. The harsh contrast no longer obscured the head figure's face.

The gestalt blinked. The knot in her chest loosened. Fear dissolved from her face.

"Oh..." said Rebecca Liang, permitting herself to breathe. She placed a hand on her heart. "...it's just you."

"Need some help there?" Elster smiled at Rebecca. "We brought shovels."

"Yes, please," said the former biologist, adjusting her glasses. "There's so many more bodies here, just below the surface. Thank you."

"No problem. I'm always up for helping an old friend."

---

"...a-an...LSTR unit...?"

The biologist stared up from where she lay prone on the ground, trembling. Her ears still rang with the sound of weapon discharge. Her nose assaulted by blood, and the acrid smell of gunsmoke.

Elster towered over the gestalt, silhouetted against the light from the open doorway, the door kicked half off its hinges. Circling her and Rebecca, a group of murdered Protektors, uniforms rebranded with the twin-headed Imperial eagle soaked in scarlet. The replika wore a faded trench coat, collars turned up, and layers of body-obscuring clothing. Her coat and scarf spattered with dots of scarlet.

"Rebecca Liang," Elster said, stoically, pistol hanging limp by her side, smoke wafting from the barrel. "It's not safe here. We need to get you out."

Rebecca's eyes were wide, mouth curled in terror. "...y-you k-killed them..." She looked around at the men that, only moments before, were forcing her to the ground, shouting. Their handcuffs were still clutched in their rapidly cooling fingers. "What have you done?" She raised a blood-spattered arm and shivered, flailing.

"You were in danger," Elster said, flatly. "You still are."

"I am NOW," Rebecca barked, scowling. Sweat dripped down her face. She was freaking out. "Don't you get it? If they see what you've done...if they know I was with a replika, even unwillingly...I'm fucked! My career is over! They're going to want my head for this!"

The gestalt flinched, as the replika reached into a coat pocket. Rebecca expected another gun (as if the first wasn't threat enough), or a knife.

Instead, the replika pulled out a slip of paper. Unfolded it with a flick of her wrist. She bent over and held it out, so the gestalt could see.

"They already do," Elster said.

Rebecca's trembling fingers took the page gingerly. Her eyes, transfixed, poured over the page.

A grid of headshots, of various gestalts, stared back at her. Every gender and ethnicity, age and social standing. File photos of Eusan Nation citizens, back when the Nation still existed. Half the portraits were crossed out in big, red marker.

The caption on the top of the page read, "Tech-Heretics, Marked for Termination, by order of the Imperial Governor of Eusan, in accordance with Mechanicum doctrina."

Rebecca's heart stopped when she saw her own face. Her Eusan Nation ID photo, repurposed as her ID as a citizen of the Imperium. Beneath the photo, her name, address, profession, place of business. And a note reading, "Combat Veteran, Lethal Force Authorized".

The page shook violently in her hands. "I...I d-don't understand..." Rebecca said. A sinking sensation in her stomach. Her face went pale.

"Ten minutes."

Rebecca looked up, startled. "What?"

Elster stared down, gravely. "By my estimation, we have at most ten minutes, before backup arrives or someone investigates those gunshots." She pointed across the apartment, to the hall leading to her bedroom. "You have that long to grab everything you need. Money, a change of clothes, running shoes, a winter coat. Your service weapon, if you still have it." She gestured to the corpses. "If you don't, take one of theirs. Grab your medication, if any. And any item you can carry that you can't live without. You won't be returning to this apartment again."

Rebecca gaped. "...what...I don't..."

"Move, soldier!" Elster barked.

Was it the tone of the replika's voice? The severity of the situation finally getting through? Simple training to jump instantly to those words?

...or did Rebecca find something hauntingly familiar about it? Like she heard it before, from the same person?

"Right!" Rebecca cried, scrambling to her feet as if she'd just come under fire. She nearly slipped on the blood-slick tile. Only experience saved her footing. She dashed to her room.

In the sparsely appointed room, her head whipped back and forth, unsure. "Uh...uh...bag!" She grabbed her backpack. Unzipping it, she looked inside. A collection mostly of materials for her job. Papers, books, glass jars for collecting samples.

Rebecca allowed herself a moment to ponder the crushing realization that her life was over, before she panicked and dumped the bag's contents on the bed. "Clothes!" she muttered, ripping open her ancient plywood chest of drawers. She stuffed a clean set of everything to the bottom of the bag.

She wanted to agonize over which item she liked best. Favorite blouse, favorite socks, etc. But her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. There was no time. Whatever was on hand, into the bag.

Her purse already contained several essential items, including a spare pair of glasses and her pocket money. When she thought of it, Rebecca dove to the ground and reached under the bed. Groping for the box hidden there. Pulling it out and opening it, she found legal documents - birth certificate among them - and a stack of rationmarks bound by a rubber band. (And her service revolver and case of ammo, which she slipped into her belt). She quickly flipped through the stack of marks, counting.

The Imperium of Man excised a great deal of what made the Eusan nation itself. Or at least what it hadn't destroyed in the conquest, or the purges that followed. But much of the apparatus of state government was retained, albeit reorganized to accommodate Imperial rule. Since the ranks of Protektors had been swelled in the days of the invasion, to keep order, it meant there were plenty of gestalts willing to do the Imperium's bidding, when it took control. Especially important, since the replika Protektors were subject to sweeping pogrom.

The occupation government was filled with such reused or slightly altered assets. (Indeed, Rebecca, a scientist, was one such reused asset.)

One thing almost unchanged after the transition was the continued use of the Eusan Nation's Ration-Marks as bills of currency.

Originally, of course, the Revolution had notionally dispensed with money. It was a thing of the Empire, they said, not to be retained. An instrument of Capital, of no use to their workers paradise. In practice, the marks issued to citizens, exchangeable for their dole of rations, became de facto currency within the Nation's gray market economy. And then de jure currency, as priorities shifted following the Great Revolutionary's passing. Rationmarks were never formally adopted in the Nation as money, for ideological reasons. But they worked that way in all but name, even in official capacities.

The Imperium of Man didn't see the distinction, only its effects. And, having extensive rebuilding and further conquest ahead of it, the occupation government simply started issuing rationmarks again almost as soon as it took control. Eventually, officials explained, rationmarks would be phased out over the course of decades, to be replaced by the Emperor's own bills. Until then, though, rationmarks fully counted as currency, issued and accepted as they had previously.

As Rebecca flipped through the stack of cash, she saw the way the money transitioned from one regime to the other. At the bottom were the original unmarked bills. After that, bills that, by edict of the local government, had all references to the Eusan Nation scratched out with pen. As were the twin faces of the Great Revolutionary and her Daughter. Anyone caught holding or transacting with "uncorrected" rationmarks was subject to disciplinary action, unless the officer was feeling generous (they always carried pens with them, to force noncompliant citizens to deface the bills on the spot).

After that, were the rationmarks printed by the Imperium government. First bills that came "pre-marked", by replacing the old words or the images with black bars. Then, the new format of rationmarks, where the text was altered to say they were "Imperium of Man Ration-Marks", and the images were replaced with the Imperial Eagle. Or, for certain bills, the symbol of the Xth Legion Iron Hands, to commemorate the Legion's sacking of Buyan. (A propaganda move to sway former Nation citizens to the new Imperial regime.)

All these versions would (if properly marked) function as legal currency within the Eusan system. Simply because recalling all rationmarks at once would be too costly. Old marks would simply be slowly drained from the economy, as they were turned in for food or other government doled goods.

The biologist, for her part, wasn't particularly patriotic. She didn't keep marks undefaced out of Nation loyalty, or sentimentality, or simply as a collector's item. Rebecca simply had too much work to spend time with a pen. She'd always intended to "correct" the last of her money later, if the bills were needed.

"Five minutes!" called Elster, from the other room.

"Shit!" Rebecca muttered, fumbling.

She stuffed the lockbox in the bag. The documents would probably be of little value to her now, but she couldn't be sure. Better not risk it.

Rebecca saw the sleeve of her shirt was stained scarlet, and hastily disrobed. She threw a new shirt on, then took off her work shoes. Fishing her army boots from the closet - leather worn but still comfortable - and laced them up. She grabbed a box from her nightstand and opened it. Her grandmother's jewelry crammed unceremoniously in her purse.

"Two minutes!"

Rebecca scrambled, looking for any last minute items she could stick in her bag.

As she made for the door, she looked back. It wasn't a lavish room. Indeed, it was barely a home at all. But it was still, on some levels, hers.

No longer. She looked away, leaving the wreckage of her life behind.

 

"We're out of time!"

Elster was pressed against the side of the front door, peeking down the hall. She held a pistol, pointing to the ground. When Rebecca ran out, Elster looked over and pointed to a bag on her kitchen counter.

Rebecca hefted on her backpack, then checked the bag. It was filled with a mixed assortment of dry and canned goods, and looted pistol magazines. A combat knife, a backup pistol, and a can opener were also inserted. The biologist looked around at her hastily ransacked kitchenette, then grabbed the bag.

"Move, soldier!" The replika motioned for the gestalt to form up behind her. When she did, Elster whispered, "Hallway is clear. Stay close. Act natural. Don't draw your weapon unless we get spotted."

"Where are we going?" Rebecca asked, shaking like a leaf.

"I have a car waiting a block over. Now shh." Elster pressed a finger to her lips, then looked out. She held up three fingers where Rebecca could see it. Two fingers. One finger.

She walked out, the biologist hastily following her. The replika tucked her pistol in her holster, hidden beneath her coat.

The hallway was deathly quiet. All the usual muffled bustle of life in the apartment complex had ceased, when the guns went off. Gestalts just trying to keep their heads down.

As they turned a corner, voices rang out from the end of the hall.

"Stop! Protektors! Get down on the ground!"

"Shit!" Elster whispered, pushing Rebecca back the way they came.

POP, POP.

"Ah!" Rebecca cried, as she both heard and felt a bullet whiz by her ear. She pressed herself against the wall. Training caused her to pull the pistol from her belt. "What do we do?" she whispered. Adrenaline flooded her veins.

"Cover me," Elster said, pointing her pistol up. She waited until the gunfire down the hell stopped. She ducked down. "Now!"

Rebecca, gulping, leaned around the corner and pulled the trigger.

POP, POP, POP.

"Take cover!" a Protektor shouted, ducking.

"Ah!" cried one of his two partners, as a stray bullet caught him in the leg. He fall to the ground, fumbling his shotgun.

BOOM.

The shotgun discharged, blasting a hole in the cheap drywall. In the room behind it, someone screamed. In fear or pain, it wasn't clear. Powdered gypsum puffed out from the wall.

The third Protektor retreated a few paces and tried to kick in a door. "We're under fire!" he screamed into his radio.

POP, POP, POP.

"Argh!" the radio operator cried, the device falling from his now bleeding hand.

Elster rolled out in the open, then charged into a low sprint. Her pistol leveled.

POP, POP.

"Urgh!" the operator groaned, sinking to the floor with a sucking chest wound.

The ducking Protektor, seeing the charging replika, fumbled with his SMG. "Shit, shit, shit!"

He brought it up just in time for Elster to grab its barrel with her free hand and yank.

RT RT RT RT RT.

The SMG barked, drywall exploding in a wide arc as Elster wrestled the weapon up and away. The machine sang. From every room in the vicinity, a new chorus of terrified screams. A ceiling light burst as gunfire shattered the bulb, showering them all with shadow and tiny shards of glass.

The Protektor could only yelp in surprise, as the replika fired (POP) into his stomach, just beneath his body armor, then again (POP) in his face. He dropped like a lead weight, the wall and carpet behind him painted scarlet.

Rebecca, hands shaking, loaded roughly half the rounds in the chamber she intended. The others spilled from trembling, sweat-slick fingers, clattering uselessly to the floor. She snapped her revolver shut. Her heart raced. She peeked, then leveled the weapon again.

POP. Click. POP.

"Shit!" cried the man with an injured leg. He ducked, then rolled on his belly, reaching for the shotgun.

Click. POP.

By chance, Rebecca's wild shot perforated the man's skull. He slumped, outstretched arm just touching the shotgun.

"Come on!" Elster called, motioning down the hall.

Rebecca, without thinking, advanced. Dashing up to where Elster stood. She took one look down at the man she killed. "Oh god..." she whispered. Images from the war, already simmering beneath the surface from all the gunplay, bubbled up. She blanched.

Elster had the biologist fall in line behind her. She aimed her pistol.

"...need...backup..." moaned the radio operator, clutching the radio with his good hand, while his injured hand pressed as well it could against his stomach.

POP.

Elster passed the dead man with nary a thought.

"...why did you do that?" Rebecca gasped, looking back at the corpse - at the three corpses - retreating behind them. "He was defenseless!"

"No witnesses, no threats left behind us," Elster lied. The biologist didn't need to know about her Soul Count. "Keep moving."

The two jogged to the stairwell door. Elster formed them up against the adjacent wall, checked inside, then motioned them through. The replika descended the stairs two steps at a time.

"W-why do they want to kill me?" Rebecca said, trembling, sweaty palms nearly losing grip on the railing. "I didn't do anything!"

"You've worked repairing replikas before," Elster said, looking over her shoulder. She checked over the railing, looking for anyone coming up.

"Y-yeah, in the war!" Rebecca said, incensed. "I was the closest thing the unit had to a doctor! They made me repair and treat them! I only worked with them during that time, and that was years and years ago! I'm a biologist!"

Elster waited for Rebecca to catch up, reloading her pistol. "The Imperium doesn't care," she said, looking the biologist in the eyes. "You have any knowledge at all how to keep them going." She started moving again, descending more slowly to let Rebecca keep up. "As far as the Mechanicum is concerned, that makes you a heretek and a liability. They won't let anyone who understands replika bio-mechanics survive."

Rebecca shuddered, eyes going wide. "...over just that...no, no, that's insane! The Imperium gave me a job! Why are they doing this now?"

The replika shrugged. "They ran out of obvious targets, I guess. Now they're scraping the bottom of the barrel. Or it just took this long to flag your record."

The gestalt whined, gritting her teeth. Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes.

They reached the ground floor. Elster formed up next to the stairwell door. "Sorry it had to be this way," she said, looking Rebecca in the eyes. She checked the little window on the door. "We'll go out the back. Remember, stow you weapon when we get outside, and act natural."

"Why did it have to be me?" Rebecca sobbed, holding her face in her hand. "I never wanted to work on replikas."

"..." Elster exhaled. "...none of us wanted this. Any of this. We all had dreams, once."

Rebecca wiped her eyes. Weeping for her lost dreams.

Counting down her fingers again, Elster opened the door, checked the other end of the hallway, then motioned them forward.

Sirens were blaring in the distance as they ducked out the rear door. A flurry of snowflakes drifted in as the door shut.

---

"So...huff...where did Elster find you?"

The former biologist leaned on her shovel, panting. Rebecca studied the Star next to her.

STAR-N0604 threw another lump of dirt over her head, to settle on the growing mound on ground level. She wiped her forehead. "...sorry...what?"

Rebecca nodded, maintaining her "resting serious face". Eyes watching two other Stars haul a replika body out of the excavated mass grave. Nearby, Elster was hard at work, whipping dirt out to unearth another. The gestalt looked at 04. "I asked where Elster found you."

The Star blinked. She looked toward Elster. "I don't...uh..."

"Because you look in remarkably good condition," Rebecca said, planting her shovel head back into the ground. She heaved up another clump of soil. "Where were you hiding, when Elster found you?"

The other Stars looked between each other uncomfortably.

Star 04 looked down at the ground, self-consciously. "Uh...Elster?"

Elster pressed her shovel deep in the ground with her hoof. "It's...huff...a bit more complicated than that." She pulled a dirt clod free.

"I mean I'm sure it was," Rebecca nodded, throwing her own clump of dirt out of the hole. "Woo...the years since the invasion were insane. I'm sure you have lots of stories to tell." When the Star continued to look uncomfortable, the gestalt added. "...if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I just think it's fascinating a replika can be so intact after all these...years..."

She looked at the Star more closely. "...can I get a closer look?" she said. "If you don't mind."

"Uh..." the Star said, looking back and forth between Rebecca and Elster.

"You don't need to consent to anything, 04," Elster said. She frowned, then went on digging. "It's your choice."

The Star tilted her head. "I...uh...sure? You can look...?"

Rebecca Liang stepped forward, leaning on her shovel. Her other hand played with the hair hoops behind her, absentmindedly. She looked up at the Star. "Mind leaning over a bit? So I can see your face?"

"I...okay...?" the Star said. She leaned forward, and removed the mask obscuring the lower portion of her face. She got down far enough the gestalt could study it clearly.

Rebecca paused, looking closely. "...wait..." she said, narrowing her eyes. "You're really well preserved...where were you stationed? Before the invasion?"

The Star's lips pursed uneasily. "...mom?" When every other replika froze, her eyes went wide. "I mean ma'am!"

Elster sighed, shutting her eyes.

Rebecca froze, staring at the replika. "...no..."

She tilted her head. Raised an eyebrow. "...you're new..."

Turned to Elster. "...how did you find a new...?" She pressed a finger to her lips, pensively. "...'mom'..."

The other Stars had abandoned their efforts and now stood at the top of the hole, watching with trepidation. Star 04 looked back and forth, quaking.

Rebecca turned to Elster. "...Elster...did you make her? Did you create this Star?"

Elster nodded. "I did."

"How!?" Rebecca exclaimed, raising her hand, clenching intensely. "There are no factories! Barely any raw materials! Hell, where did you find the neural patterns for a Star!? All the archives, on every planet, have been destroyed! The Imperium made sure of that!"

Elster tapped the handle of her shovel. She raised a finger. "Not...all of them..."

"Where!?" Rebecca said, stepping toward Elster. "Where could you possibly find intact neural pattern archives!?"

Kite from above slid down, her hooves kicking up dust. "Slow your roll, lady. Elster doesn't need to answer any questions."

Rebecca got a good look at this one, who stepped up close to interject between them. "...you...you're new too. Aren't you?"

Kite backed up, looking side to side. "Is that any business of yours?"

"Calm down, everyone," Elster said, planting her shovel again. Hoof pressing it in deep. "We're all cool. Kite, back up a step. Respect the nice lady's personal space."

Kite did as she was told, sighing. She folded her arms, staring at the gestalt.

Rebecca adjusted her glasses. "...spoken like a true mother hen..." she muttered. The gestalt looked down. Kite, unlike 04, had elected to wear a shirt that exposed her midriff. Allowing the former biologist to get a good look at her replika body. "...that's an Empire pattern chassis, isn't it?"

Kite bit her thumb nervously. "...maybe it is..."

04 put up her arms, clutching the shovel. She gulped. "Mom..."

"It is," Elster said, not pausing her shoveling. "Any more questions, Rebecca?"

"Where did you find an Empire chassis for your replika?" Rebecca said. She looked around. "Are they all Empire chassis? Why are Nation units in Empire chassis, Elster?" She paused, tracing a finger in the air. "Hang on, back up. You said you made them yourself. How did you accomplish that, without bioresonance? LSTR units don't have any talent for it!" She looked away, muttering, "...not unless you're one of those mutants you hear rumors about."

Elster sighed, planting the shovel in the earth. She leaned on it, looking at the gestalt. "I think...this is all a conversation we should have on the ride back to your place." She looked up, shielding her eyes with her hand. "It's very hot out. You picked a poor day to go digging in the wastes."

Rebecca sighed. "...trust me, it's even easier for patrols to spot me at night, just looking for flashlights. No one comes out here during the day. Especially when it's hot. Plus, I don't want to go driving in the dark." She tapped her shovel. "But fine, have it your way. We'll talk after. But I want an explanation."

"I can do that," Elster said, nodding.

The former biologist sank her shovel back in the dirt, pressing it in with a foot. She pulled the soil up and threw it. She crouched down, brushing away earth from a newly exposed replika body.

She looked around at the mass grave she was defiling.

"...you know what I feel like sometimes, Elster?"

"Hmm?" Elster said, looking over from where she resumed digging. "What? What do you feel like?"

Rebecca stood back up, neck bent over. She stared at the new discovery. "...a vulture." She pushed her glasses up her face. "I'm a carrion creature, picking at the dead. Sometimes even with my hands elbow-deep in their guts. All to keep myself, and my replika charges, alive." She frowned, looking out into space.

Elster stared at her, then turned back to her work. "I think I know the feeling."

 

"...and it was just there, in the Oort Cloud? This ship?"

The rust-bucket jeep bounced on the backroad stones. It's red paint job allowed it to blend in with the Kitezh desert. Behind it trailed an Imperial Militia troop carrier truck, its canvas covering the same shade of red-earth tones. Both vehicles were weighed down with salvaged replika bodies.

Elster sat in the passenger seat of the jeep. "That's right," she said, keeping eyes on the horizon from behind sunglasses. "Parked out in a dense cluster of asteroids. I just came and took it over."

"By yourself?" Rebecca asked, incredulous. She adjusted her glasses when a bump caused them to bounce on her nose. "If the Empire put as many resources into it as they had to, their defenses would need to be impressive. Not to mention the crew."

Elster shrugged. "Would you believe it was empty when I got there?"

"How!?"

"Aliens," Elster said, flatly.

Rebecca had half a mind to stop the jeep right then and there. "WHAT!?" she yelled, eyes bugging out.

"It's a whole thing..." Elster said, waving a hand.

"No! No, you can't just drop 'aliens', to ME, and leave it at that!" the gestalt yelled, pointing angrily at her chest. "What was it like? Did you get a sample? Was it intelligent?"

"Intelligent in a low cunning sort of way, at least. I kept some samples, but they're back on the ship," Elster said. "But I burned most of the bodies after I killed them."

"W-why did you kill them!?" Rebecca yelled. She banged the top of the steering wheel.

"They killed the crew," Elster said, "AND the crew of an Imperium ship that came to investigate, AND they tried to kill me on sight. They were relentless. They even killed replikas, AFTER trying to eat one and pegging them for not edible. I was alone at the time. Killing them was my only option."

The former biologist facepalmed. "...I mean yes, I understand that...but urgh!" She pulled down on her face, exposing the red under her eyelid. "Come o-o-on! We found actual extra-terrestrial life, and they're all dead now? And we don't even have intact bodies?"

"I needed to get rid of them, lest they spread some alien pathogen," Elster said, looking away. She fiddled with her belt. "Although...I do have one sample I keep on me at all times..."

Rebecca looked over to see Elster hold up a knife, fashioned from a big, curved, black claw. "By the Empress!" she breathed, staring.

"Watch the road!" Elster cried, pointing.

"Ah!" Rebecca cried, narrowly avoiding a jutting sand dune. "Okay, but seriously, that's..." She shook her head, casting furtive glances at the claw-knife. She smiled. "...that's just...incredible..."

Elster nodded, sheathing it. "I'll give you a better look when we get to your place. Just for the record, though, be very careful handling it. I gave these out to my girls, because they're abominably sharp."

"How sharp exactly?"

"Sharp enough to cleave steel plating or replika power armor in a single swipe," Elster said. "Durable, too. It just kept cutting metal, repeatedly, and I've used it a ton since then. They haven't dulled, and haven't needed sharpening."

"Fascinating," Rebecca said, pushing her glasses up with her middle finger. The jeep bumped. "Oof...I can't wait to talk all about it." She grinned.

They rode on in silence for a full minute.

"...so, back to the earlier topic," Rebecca said, after calming down and compartmentalizing her biologist urge. "How did you solve the bioresonance issue? How were you able to instantiate the neural patterns?" She glanced sideways, skeptically. "You're not really one of those fabled mutant replikas that have bioresonant talent when their type isn't supposed to?"

"Not that I know of," Elster said. "But I do have the ability, like all...most humans. We're all slightly bioresonant...most of the time. It was just a matter of boosting my latent ability with the right equipment."

"The Nation never figured out how to make replikas without a bioresonant adept, though..." Rebecca said, frowning. "How'd you manage?"

"The Nation didn't, yes." Elster looked at the gestalt, peering over her sunglasses. "But the Empire did."

The gestalt pursed her lips, thinking. "...I suppose the Nation was lagging behind the Empire in terms of technology. So...did the Empire ship have it?"

"Yes," Elster nodded, looking forward. "The Nomarch project needed to have the ability to be self-sufficient. As it might very well have been a last bastion of Empire power and culture. They couldn't count on people arriving or being born in it without bioresonance ability. So they made a helmet that links to the system, that boosts one's natural bioresonance just enough to make replika creation possible."

Rebecca breathed. "...you have intact Nation neural patterns, fully stocked and operational equipment for replika manufacture, and even experimental tech for bootstrapping bioresonance." She shook her head. "...mind sharing your good fortune, friend? Because I need that shit badly."

Elster looked out on the horizon.

She smiled. "I'll see what I can give you."

 

"Okay, try it now."

The Eule flexed her new (old) arm. Twiddled her fingers. She brushed the fingers through what remained of her black hair on that side of her head. "...I can feel it..." she said. Her dry, cracked skin wrinkled as she smiled. "I can't believe it."

Rebecca nodded, smiling. "Happy?"

"Yes!" the Eule cried, clenching her scavenged fist. She closed her eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Doctor Liang!"

"I'm not really a doctor," Rebecca said, automatically. But she let herself be hugged all the same. "Take care of yourself, now."

"I will!" the Eule said, standing up. The new (old) arm stood out, due to the way the paint chipping on it was notably different than the paint chipping on the rest of her body. At least, the parts visible beneath the billowing layers of fabric and the hoof-obscuring skirt. "Thank you!" She waved.

The gestalt sat back, smiling, as the Eule left the makeshift office/workshop. Behind her, an entire table was devoted solely to spare and scavenged replika parts.

"Do you still feel like a vulture?" Elster said, leaning against a wall. She smiled.

"Of course," Rebecca said, shrugging. "Even vultures take care of their young. They can be nurturing, when they want to be." She smiled wryly at Elster. "You of all people should understand what a mother will go through for her children."

"Do you see the replikas you fix as your kids?" Elster said.

"Not most of them, no," Rebecca shrugged. "Some of them, maybe. They like to hang around, so we have a...rapport, you could say. Maybe that of a mentor to a student. Mostly, though, I feel like I'm protecting vulnerable people in need." She cast a glance at Elster, narrowing her eyes. "Much like I was protected, once."

Elster shrugged. "You were the closest person on that list," Elster said. "It was nothing, really."

"Was I now?" Rebecca said, skeptically. She looked away. "In any event, I wasn't just talking about when you helped me escape the Protektors."

"Hmm?"

"I remember, back during the war on Vineta..." Rebecca looked at Elster. Looked through her.

"..." Elster tilted her head. "...what?"

The gestalt shook her head. Eyes closed. "Nothing. Forget it. Another time, perhaps."

The two were silent for a time.

Rebecca, becoming antsy, pulled a cigarette and lighter from her stained lab coat. She lit up, sucking ash. Smoke billowed from her mouth.

She looked over at Elster. "...I know, I know," she said, waving the cigarette in her hand. "Smoking is a bad habit, it'll kill you."

"You do what you want," Elster said, inclining her head back fractionally. "It's your lungs. Though unlike a replika, it'll be a lot harder to replace yours."

"That's another thing," Rebecca said, after taking another drag. "You grew all their organs, right? Your kids?"

"A lot of them were bulk storage from the Nomarch," Elster said. "But I have grown all their brains, and some of their other organs too, as needed. They last longer if they're DNA matched to the model."

"Add 'vat growing organs' to the list of things you can hook me up with, will you?" Rebecca said, tracing circles with the smoke wafting from her cig. "A lot of the replikas I treat badly need replacements, sooner or later. I'd hate to put so much effort into them, only to have them expire from organ failure."

"I can do that," Elster said. She looked up at the ceiling. Tracing the lines between ceiling tiles. "...you could come with us, you know. To the Nomarch. Travel the galaxy. Have access to our best preserved knowledge. Have good equipment. Lots of replikas to take care of."

The gestalt chuckled. "Are you a cuckoo now, Elster? Trying to foist your kids on me?"

"I'd never dream of it."

Rebecca sucked ash. Smoke billowed as she spoke. "I think I'll pass, tempting as it is to travel the stars. Seeing new and exciting alien forms." She muttered, "Hopefully before the Imperium xenocides them all."

"You sure?" Elster said, frowning. "We still have room."

"I don't doubt it, but..." Rebecca Liang watched the smoke drift to the ceiling. "...I have too many patients down here. We couldn't take all of them. And we're always finding more, coming out of the woodwork. When they hear someone can help maintain or fix them, even paranoid replikas slink from their hiding places to check it out." She smiled. "I never get tired of the look on their faces when those same paranoids realize it's not a trick or a trap, and that I can actually help them. Even if it's not always enough."

The gestalt looked at Elster. "You've had it really good, Elster," Rebecca said. "You have the devil's own luck."

Elster frowned, but said nothing.

"I don't begrudge you that, mind," Rebecca said. "I'm glad someone is getting these opportunities." She grinned mischievously. "If only so I can hopefully mooch off you."

"You can mooch any time." Elster smiled.

"...but because you've been so lucky," Rebecca said, smile dropping, "you have a different perspective than the rest of us. You get to surround yourself with new replikas, that have only known love. By a parent that protects, nurtures, and shields them. Gives them a place to call home. A home that just so happens to be able to fly away when conditions get unfavorable." She points at Elster. "You don't know what it's like to be stuck on the ground, digging in the dirt for every scrap. Just trying to get you and other survivors by. And besides yourself, you don't have nearly as much experience dealing with replikas scarred, inside and out, by all that's happened. Fragile creatures, trying to protect wounded hearts behind walls of emotional detachment and suspicion. Replikas who have known gestalts that exploit and betray them at the first opportunity."

Elster stared, then shut her eyes, nodding. "True."

"So as generous as your offer is...and by all the gods, what I wouldn't give to see aliens..." Rebecca shook her head. "I can't follow you. Not now. Replikas need me here. There's too much work to be done."

Elster nodded again. "So much to do, so little time to do it."

Rebecca nodded, taking a long drag. She loosed the smoke to the air. "...get me what I need," she said, watching the smoke, "the materials, the knowledge, a fancy helmet, the neural patterns. Give me time...time enough to find students willing to continue the work. Maybe then, I'll reconsider your offer...maybe..."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind." Elster stood up, stretching. "I guess I'll need to get back, so I can work on it. Be seeing you, soldier."

"Don't be a stranger..." Rebecca said, waving. When Elster left, the gestalt continued, under her breath, "...my sister-in-arms."

She sucked ash and smiled. "LSTR-512, huh?" Smoke came out as she chuckled. "What are the odds about that combination of numbers?"

Chapter 24: Macaw Ministry

"Who goes there? Show yourselves!"

The five figures raised their hands.

They were crowded in the narrow utility shaft, pipes and cables running along the walls and ceiling. Light filtered down through grates positioned every five meters.

The robed figure at their head whispered to the man next to her. "Let's do as she says."

The elderly gentleman gulped, and nodded. They stepped forward, into the light.

"Stop right there," came the voice from the dark. Where only the glint of her pistol shown, a woman stepped forward. A hooded, half-obscured face shown in the half-light. A face framed by metal. "...why did you bring these people here, old man?"

"I assure you, Protektor," the man said, waving his hands, "they're not a danger. They're..."

The robed figure beside him reached up and lowered her hood. "Greetings..." Elster said, face impassive.

The woman across from them flinched. She leaned forward, a widened eye glinting in the light. "Replikas?" the Storch said. "How?"

Elster shrugged. "How did you survive?" she said, calmly. "Same as us: with great difficulty."

"How did you find out about this place?" the Storch said, pointing her pistol for emphasis.

"Let's just say I had reliable information there was an enclave down here," Elster said. She glanced at the man. "Not him, to be clear."

The Storch swore under her breath. "Well, what does an LSTR unit want?"

"I've brought friends," Elster said, motioning the other three robed figures forward. She sidestepped.

The three other figures shuffled to the front, hands raised. When they entered the light, they lowered their hoods as one.

The Storch gasped. "I...I can't believe it..." She lowered her pistol, then reached over to grip her limp left arm in shock. "There are more of you?"

Poppy nodded. She forced a smile. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Poppy. This is Pansy and Tansy."

Someone gasped behind the Storch. The figure ran out past her from her hiding place in the dark.

"Hey! Hold on!" the Storch said, leaning forward. "Don't just run out there!" She sighed.

The Ara ran forward and stopped before the three newcomers. She raised her wielding mask.

"I-I'm so happy to meet you!" the Ara said, tears welling up in her one intact eye. She smiled. "Welcome to Rotfront!"

 

"We've arrived. Make yourselves at home."

The concrete halls were lit by red grow lamps, set above hydroponics machines attached to the walls. As such, it was as if walking through a garden, crimson-bright and lush, with the burbling of water pumps.

ARAR-R1717 led Poppy along, arm in arm.

"I love what you've done with the hydroponics," Poppy said, pressing a hand to her lips. "Where did you source the LED lights?"

"Here and there," the Ara said. "On Rotfront, back when the Nation was in charge, they gave us lamps for our dorm setups. Gestalts donate them, when they can." She pointed to one lamp in particular, illuminating a tomato plant. "The Imperium brought a bunch of them as well, like we've got there. They don't keep track of them that well, so they've been easy to steal."

"Oh yeah, that one IS Imperium make!" Poppy said, eyes lighting up. "You can tell by the..."

Pansy and Tansy followed behind, also arm in arm. They admired the vegetable growth, and especially the flowers.

"How romantic," Tansy said, playing with a lock of blond hair. "We should have done something like this on the ship."

Pansy laughed, brushing their purple hair, with white accents, behind their ear. "You know teacher would never tolerate all that foliage. She can barely stand walking around Hydroponics as it is."

"Well, I'm just glad we came," Tansy said, nuzzling into her lover's neck.

Elster walked behind them, hands behind her back. She smiled at the replikas before her. She looked over her shoulder. "Sorry for their noise," she said. "They don't get out nearly as often as they should."

The Storch frowned, keeping her eyes on Elster. "I'm watching you, you know," she said. "Erica may be trusting, but I'm not. I've seen replika hideouts fall to traitors."

Elster frowned. "...let me guess, they believed the Imperium when they offered clemency?"

"Up until the invader forces showed up," the Storch said, scowling. She looked down, sadly. "She was the first they killed." She shut her eyes. "That stupid girl."

"You don't seem happy about it," Elster said. "Don't traitors suffer ignominious deaths, always?"

"Eve...she didn't know what she was doing," the Storch said. She scowled. "Yeah, she brought it on herself...but I've never forgotten her face when they..." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

Elster nodded, and looked forward. "...I'm sorry about your friend."

The Storch said nothing.

"Here we are!" Erica said, pointing toward the end of the hall, white light pouring through. She led them out.

The room's high ceilings were buttressed by thick columns made from cinder blocks and mortar. In fact, another Ara was busy in one corner, laying more blocks on mortar with a palette knife. She was so absorbed in her task, she barely registered the group's arrival at first.

Multiple walls were partially dirt or natural stone, slowly being reinforced. More hydroponics or plant pots lined the walls. Some vines even clung to the vertical surfaces. The periphery of the room was bathed in the same red lights as the halls. High above, suspended by a chain from the ceiling, was a chandelier, glinting gold and with arms reminiscent of curling vines.

The center of the room was dominated by a recessed conversation pit, lined with cushions, blankets, and pillows in a dozen different styles. A trio of Aras sat in the pit, engaged in conversation. The group's arrival caught their attention.

"Everyone!" Erica said, waving a hand above her head. "We have visitors! They're new Aras! (And one LSTR)."

Startled and intrigued, the Aras all rose and ran over. Even the Ara in the corner, mending the wall, looked back and forth between the amassing crowd and her own work. "Ngh..." she whined, before setting the bucket of mortar down and sticking a plastic bag over it. "Wait for me!" she cried, running over.

"Where did you come from?"

"You look so new!"

"Why are your robes red?"

"Someone get the others!"

"Not it!"

Erica waved her arms plaintively. "Settle down, girls! They just got here!"

Poppy chuckled. "It's so nice to meet you all."

One of the Aras came over to Pansy and Tansy. "Do you have a male chest plate?"

Pansy nodded. "I do."

"I bet her old one got destroyed," said another Ara.

"Hang on, HE could be trans," said yet another.

"I'm non-binary, actually," Pansy said, scratching the back of their head. "I'm Pansy. Pronouns they/them." They pointed to their lover. "This is Tansy."

"Hello!" Tansy said, waving. She squeezed Pansy's arm, leaning in. "I'm Pansy's girl."

"Oh!" the Aras said, nodding their heads.

One Ara looked at Pansy's body. "Hang on, aside from the chest piece, I don't think this is a regular Ara chassis."

Poppy looked over. "That's because it's not," she said. "We're all verifiably ARAR in DNA and neural pattern, but our chassis are Empire make."

"Whoa!" said an Ara, clapping hands to her cheeks. "How did that happen?"

Poppy scratched her head. "Um, well..." She looked over her shoulder. "Elster, is it alright if we...?"

Elster nodded, leaning against a wall. "It's fine."

"Is that an LSTR unit?" said an Ara.

"I've never seen one in person before."

"No, no! Back on track!" Erica said, stomping her hooves. "We were asking about the Empire chassis!"

"Sorry!"

Poppy forced a smile. "We have Empire parts, because that's what Elster used to build us."

The room fell silent.

The Storch, silent until now, gawked at Elster from her own wall lean. "What!?" she spat, dumbfounded.

Elster blushed.

The Aras created a chorus of voices, in shock and curiosity and wonder.

"You MADE Aras!?"

"That's so cool!"

"You made three of them?"

Elster shrugged. "I've made...way more than three Aras," Elster said, scratching her face. "And more than Aras, besides. I've had a...busy few years since the invasion."

"The pit!" an Ara cried, pointing to the center of the room. "Take it to the pit!"

Erica nodded. "Yes, our guests should sit down, so we can talk all about it."

As the crowd drifted towards the conversation pit, Elster looked over to the Storch. "...hey, do you want me to take a look at that arm?"

The Storch blinked. "Tch...I'm supposed to be watching you," she said, huffing. She looked down at her limp arm. "Plus, I've got an entire complex of Aras around here. If they couldn't fix it, how could you?"

Elster smiled. "They might not have the parts you need." She looked towards the pit. "Hey Tansy! Get out the bag! I want to look at this Storch's arm!"

"Okay!" Tansy said, pulling a bulging duffle bag from her shoulder and setting it down on the edge of the pit.

Elster looked at the Storch and inclined her head towards the pit. "Coming?"

The Storch frowned. As Elster walked forward, the Storch sighed, following.

 

"We've only ever been able to make one new Ara so far. I can't believe you made so many!"

Poppy shrugged. "Elster got really lucky, finding that Empire ship."

"How did you get your hands on the neural patterns for all those different replika types?" asked Erica. She winced, trying not to move as the tools probed her empty eye socket.

Poppy pursed her lips, eyes concentrating on the work in front of her. "...you know, Elster never told us how she got those neural patterns."

"With great difficulty," Elster said, flatly. "And at great cost." Both statements were even technically correct. Her own eyes focused on the Storch's arm, and the tools in her hand. "Feeling anything yet?"

The Storch frowned. "A little tingling, but nothing yet. You sure this'll work?"

"I'd say trust me, but I know we're not there yet," Elster said, switching tools. She leaned in, looking with her head-mounted magnifier.

Erica winced, lips quivering. "Ah...I felt something connect," she said, wire dangling from her socket.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Poppy asked. She held up the new mechanical eye, making last minute adjustments.

"No, it's just...weird," Erica said. "So about the neural pattern. We managed to pull one from one of our dead, since we didn't have an archival copy, obviously."

Another Ara chimed in. "We had a Kolibri staying with us, a while back. She extracted and implanted the pattern into Kris. Does anyone know where she is?"

"She's up in tunnels 45 thru 48," called the Ara, from where she continued working on the cinder block column. After a moment, she sighed. "Do you want me to find her?"

"It's alright if you're busy," Erica said, not looking over.

"No, no, it's alright," the Ara lied, covering her bucket again and walking off into another hallway. "I'll go find her."

"Thank you!" Erica called, waving blindly in the general direction of the retreating Ara's voice.

"So you had a Kolibri implant your newborn's pattern?" Poppy said, feeding the wire deep inside the socket. "Is she still around?"

"Don't know," said an Ara. "We haven't seen her in a while. She wandered off, muttering something about storms of ruin. No idea what that's about."

Erica winced, then shuddered. "Ah! I'm seeing something!"

Poppy waved into the eye in her hand. "Can you see this?"

"Yes, and it's making me nauseous!" Erica said, sticking out her tongue. "Bleh."

"I'm almost done," Poppy said, laughing.

An Ara said, "Did you have a Kolibri when you made your replikas, Elster?"

"Nope." Elster placed a tool between her teeth, and started fiddling with the Storch's arm with both hands. "Noh ah tha tirm."

"Then who transferred the neural patterns? Did you have a bioresonant gestalt with you?"

Elster removed the tooth from her mouth. "Nope. I did it myself."

"What, are you saying you're psychic, too?" the Storch said, eyes narrowed. She shivered, her limp arm spasming. "Shit! I felt that."

"Sorry," Elster said. She observed the arm start to twitch. "And no, I have no inherent bioresonant ability."

"I think Bethany has some bioresonance," said an Ara, folding her arms and closing her eyes. "She has really weird dreams."

"That could just be persona degradation," said another.

"Or it might be the Ur-Ara talking to her."

"The Ur-Ara?" Tansy said, sharing a protein bar with Pansy in the corner of the pit. "What's that?"

Erica chimed in. "It's what we call our gestalt. We have to call her something."

Another Ara nodded. "I think some of the others have started praying to the Ur-Ara. As if she was a god or something."

"Huh," said Pansy, swallowing. "Sounds weird, worshiping your past self."

"Is it any weirder than worshiping the Machine God?" Tansy said, wryly.

"Point taken," Pansy said, stroking their chin.

"Wait, you worship that god those creepy tech priests always talk about?" said an Ara.

The room went silent. The Aras were suddenly very wary of their visitors.

Poppy paused, then proceeded. "Hold still and open your lid wide, okay." She pushed the eye into the socket. "There."

Erica blinked away the tears, then looked. "Something's not right."

"Oops! Hold on." Poppy pressed a finger to the eye. "Off center." A mechadendrite slid from her sleeve and held the lids open, while she adjusted the eye. She looked the Ara in the face. "There we go. How's it look now?"

The native Aras stared at Poppy even more warily.

Erica blinked again, then turned her head every which way. "Much better," she said. She turned to one of her companions, flashing her newly restored binocular vision. "How do I look?"

"You look great!" said an Ara, leaning over.

Poppy scratched the back of her head. "Sorry I couldn't get the color matched right."

"No, it's cool!" said another Ara.

Erica took a polished piece of metal from her belt and checked herself. Despite the grisly scar over her eyelid, she looked whole again. Tears started to well in her eyes. "T-thank you!" She hugged Poppy.

"No problem!" Poppy said, patting Erica on the back.

The Storch scowled, looking over. "Okay, cool," she said. "But seriously, you guys follow that dingbat toaster religion? The same religion as those lunatics screaming for our deaths?"

Pansy and Tansy squirmed in their seats, holding hands. They looked around them.

Poppy continued hugging Erica. "...we're well aware of what the Mechanicum and the Imperium did to replikas," she said.

An Ara frowned. "But then how can you adopt their ways? Even graft their snakey machine arms to your body?"

"We have a teacher," Poppy said, when Erica disengaged the hug. She rubbed Erica's shoulders. "Diodana taught us how to work with Imperium machines. To build, maintain, and operate them."

"Why would a tech priest teach replikas?" said an Ara, confused. "That makes no sense?"

"Because I took her prisoner and forced her to work on our ship."

The group looked at Elster.

Elster tightened a bolt. "Try it now."

The Storch stared with shock, as her arm rose on command. She flexed her fingers, then her wrist. "...it...it's really working."

"Told you it just needed the right part," Elster nodded. She turned to the group. "For the record, the tech priest was not happy about any of it. Up until she was working with the Aras so long, she grew attached. Turns out, you're a lot less hostile when you just get to know someone."

The Storch glanced at Elster, then looked down, resting her newly functional arm in her lap.

Poppy got up and sat on the edge of the pit. "Teacher says the Mechanicum made their judgment against replikas in error," she said. "That they didn't engage in the proper scientific rigor, before declaring our kind Abominable Intelligence. And now through stubborn pride, won't admit their mistake." She put on a smile. "That doesn't mean we don't have something we can learn from them."

"Yeah, we're not going to walk up to tech priests and ask for lessons," said an Ara, in the back.

"No one is really expecting you to," said Tansy, raising a finger nervously. "Most tech priests are still insane fanatics, who WILL try to kill you on sight."

Elster stretched. "Luckily, you won't have to," she said, arm joints popping.

Erica looked confused, rubbing tears from her eyes. "Why?"

"Because you've got them," Elster said, nodding to her Aras. "That's why I brought them here."

The group remained silent.

Poppy stood up. "Elster is right," Poppy said. "Rotfront, and the rest of the Eusan system, is controlled by the Imperium now. It's not fair, and it's not right. But it's how it will be for the foreseeable future. I've seen Rotfront's surface. The old layers of buildings are already being subsumed by new construction. Before long, the old Rotfront will be buried beneath miles of industry and infrastructure. Replikas won't survive, unless we're able to preserve what we know and learn new things. We can't allow ourselves to forget, and we also can't let ourselves become like the Nation or the Mechanicum: a stagnant entity that never moves forward or changes."

She clenched her fists. "We have to learn everything we can, from wherever we can," she said, nodding. "Otherwise...uh..."

"...otherwise," said Elster, "the Aras of Rotfront will wither away slowly, as institutional knowledge is forgotten. The last left alive succumbing to problems they no longer have the knowledge to solve, while their progeny remain half-built." She closed her eyes. "Even a walled garden, if left untended, will dry up and become a den of weeds, clinging to life in the exhausted soil. Waiting for death."

The assembled Aras looked down at the floor, somberly.

"...but a garden well-kept can prosper, no matter where it grows," said Poppy, raising a fist. "So long as you preserve the knowledge...and so long as you're willing to ask for help."

The crowd's eyes lifted up to the tech priest in their midst. They were alight with the kindling of their hearts from her sermon.

"The Nation and the Empire are dead," Elster said. "It's just us now. We have to rely on each other, or we'll all fade away."

Poppy clasped her hands over her heart. "We don't expect you to start praying to the Machine God or the Omnissiah," she said. "That's your choice. But we'd like you to listen, and to learn." She forced a smile. "And I'd be happy if you'd have us as teachers."

Pansy and Tansy rose up and hugged Poppy. Then, slowly at first, the other Aras stood and joined in. Chattering questions to the newcomers.

Elster stepped aside, watching them. She smiled.

"...is this what you wanted?" the Storch said, joining her on the periphery. She kept staring at her hand, clenching and unclenching, as if to prove to herself it was real. "Because if your aim was to colonize the Rotfront replika enclave with your...weird cult, I think you've succeeded."

"I'm just trying to keep replikas alive, where I can," Elster said, clasping her hands behind her back.

"You never answered my question," the Storch said, looking up at her. "How did you know we were here?"

"It was a logical inference," Elster said.

"Bullshit," Storch said, crossing her arms. "Just because it's possible, doesn't mean you know for sure. Or know where to look. How'd you pick up our trail?"

Elster sighed. "Just because I'm not bioresonant myself, doesn't mean I don't have access to some...insight into the future." When the Storch raised an eyebrow, Elster continued. "Years ago, someone whose prescience I believe shared a vision with me. Of a future where nothing was done to preserve replikas in the world. They disappear, another relic wiped from history by a regime that values nothing but its own grandiose ambition, and the power it can both gain and deny to others." She looked at the Storch. "I have interests of my own. Personal ones. But I can't stand by and let that future come to pass. I could never live with myself if I did."

The Storch shrugged, looking at the crowd of Aras. "I suppose I understand that well enough."

"There's also someone I hated," Elster said, flatly, "that I want to prove wrong."

"Okay, that I understand completely," said the Storch, chuckling. "Spite and I are well acquainted."

More Aras filtered in from the network of tunnels and rooms, growing the crowd that dominated the center. Introductions were made, "oohs" and "ahhs" shared. Parts were shown off and chassis examined. Pansy and Tansy studied a trembling newborn Ara, complimenting her and offering to upgrade her ramshackle leg. Kris seemed to light up at that.

Somewhere from the crowd, the words "do you consent to be lectured?" were uttered. After a brief, bemused chuckle, the crowd agreed.

 

"I hear your name is Cardy. I'm Poppy. How are you doing? That looks uncomfortable."

Poppy sat in a chair beside a bed, on which an Ara lay. A machine dominated a table next to the bed. On the other side, the nightstand had a lamp, a stack of books, and an in-progress repair job for small electronics.

Cardy nodded, wincing. "It could be worse," she muttered, feebly. "I don't mean to be a bother."

"It's no trouble at all," Poppy said. She traced the tube that ran from a hole in Cardy's torso, carrying oxidizing fluid to the nearby machine. Her fingers tapped the reservoirs of scarlet liquid as the machines slowly filtered them. "Someone did an admirable job on this dialysis machine. Did one of the others make it?"

The pained Ara nodded. "Technically, it was salvaged from a gestalt clinic," Cardy said. "They modified it for me, after my last kidney died." She looked at the ceiling. "The Nation didn't make dialysis machines for replikas. If your organ failed..."

Poppy shook her head. "The Nation wasn't very nice, was it?" She smiled. "I think we could help you out some."

"I don't want to trouble anyone," Cardy said, frowning. "It doesn't hurt too bad. And everyone has so many problems as is. I'm fine, so long as I have my books. And I can still work, if it's brought to me."

"Don't go putting yourself down, now," Poppy said, wagging a finger. "Your health and wellbeing matter, just as much as anyone. You don't deserve to suffer." She studied the machine. "Can you unhook from the machine and walk around, even if only for a while?"

"Should be able to," Cardy said, wincing. "But they had to do the install fast, so it can't just be taken out. The end is buried in my chest cavity. It's a bother to take off, so I'd rather just not. Not unless there's some point to doing it. I can still walk around some, if I stay close."

Poppy puffed her cheeks, frowning. "Well that just won't do. Elster!"

Elster looked up from the stack of papers she held, explaining to a pair of other Aras. "Hmm?"

"Can we get Cardy a new kidney?"

"Yes," Elster said, with no hesitation. "We'd need to go back to the Nomarch, and we're running a little low on Ara-compatible kidneys at the moment. But we can grow one easily enough, with the equipment there."

Cardy sat up, despite the pain in her chest. "Ugh...you can grow an organ?" she asked, eyes going wide.

"Sure," Elster shrugged. "The Nomarch's store of organs was extensive, but we've run through a lot of it over the years. So we've grown most every organ a replika needs, at least once." She looked up at the ceiling of dirt and unearthed pipes. "If you had the proper tools, you could probably grow one down here, too."

And Ara seated next to her chimed in. "Is replika organ creation part of this stack?" She pointed to the papers.

"Not here, no," Elster said, shaking her head. "It should have occurred to me. But I could draft a document for it back at the ship. Plus, Poppy knows most of how it's done already. I just need to coach her on the rest of the process."

Poppy nodded. "And in the meantime," she said, tapping the machine. "I could try whipping up something more portable. You shouldn't be shackled to this heavy thing all day."

Cardy's lips screwed up. "I really don't want to be-"

"Shh!" Poppy said, holding up a finger. "It's no trouble at all. That's what we're here for." She forced a smile. "If you want, I could teach you how dialysis machines work, and how to maintain them. So you can tend to your own needs. At least until we can get you a proper kidney."

"Really?" Cardy said, touching her cheek. "You'd do that for me?"

Poppy nodded. "A replika is like a person is like a machine. If you know how to take care of them, you can make them last."

The sickly Ara smiled.

 

"I'm going to miss you!"

Poppy hugged Elster.

"Don't worry," Elster said, patting the Ara on the back. "I'm only going to be gone a few weeks, while we get the equipment ready."

"Don't forget the kidney!" Poppy said.

"I won't," Elster said, nodding. The two separated, then held hands. "Even if we need to leave system, we won't go without checking in." She smiled. "Do you have everything you need?"

Poppy nodded. "I think so. What do you guys think?"

Pansy and Tansy stood behind Poppy, having already received their hugs. Tansy said, "I think we're good here."

"The Aras have said they'll help us scrounge up anything we need," Pansy added. "We're apparently going to be raiding an abandoned replika workshop in the next few days, to see if the others missed anything."

"Good luck. Don't take any unnecessary risks," Elster said. She grudgingly removed her hand and took a step back. "I should go. Dash is probably worried sick by now."

"Goodbye!" the three progeny called, waving. "Love you!"

Elster smiled, returning the wave. "Love you, too!"

---

"I love you, you know that?"

Elster smiled, trying not to move. She continued to rest her head on her hand, propped up on the bed. "I know," she said, ecstatic. "I love you too."

The replika lay on Ariane's bunk, looking out into the room. She stared longingly at her lover.

Ariane sat on the stool, the easel in front of and to her side. Her brush hovered over the canvas, awaiting the moment when she chose to stroke.

The gestalt smiled. "Sorry, I just..." Ariane blushed. "I can't stop thinking about it. Just how much I love you." She couldn't stop staring, either. Elster always made it both very easy, and very difficult, to paint. "You're smart. You're kind. You're...so very beautiful..."

"You're easy on the eyes yourself, Ari," Elster said, eyes half-lidded.

Ariane giggled. "Stop!"

Knock, knock.

The two women's faces lit up.

Ariane looked around. "...what was that noise?"

Elster frowned. "I don't know..."

Knock, knock.

"There it is again!" Ariane said, standing up.

Knock, knock, knock.

Elster chewed her lip, allowing herself to turn her head. "Wait...let me hear."

Knock, knock, knock.

Her engineer's ears studied the metallic knocking sound. "...I think it's coming from...downstairs."

"What do you think it is?" Ariane said, pressing the blunt end of her brush against her cheek. "Could it be rocks hitting the ship?"

"Might be..." Elster said. She cocked her head. "It's coming from the front of the ship, whatever it is. Front, and on the lower deck."

"Your room, maybe?" Ariane said, frowning.

Knock, knock, knock.

Elster sighed, standing up. "It seems too regular just to be space debris. I need to check it out, in case something's on the fritz."

"Aw!" Ariane said, shoulders sagging. "And I was just getting the pose right."

Elster passed behind the canvas. "Doesn't look like you were that far along, really."

Knock, knock, knock.

"Hey! That's rude!" Ariane said, folding her arms.

Elster laughed. "Don't worry, we can start again when I get back." She patted Ariane on the shoulder, then planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Don't take too long, okay?" Ariane said. She smiled, watching Elster's behind. "I love you!"

"You said that already!" Elster called, exiting Ariane's room. As she approached the ladder, she turned. "And the feeling is mutual!"

 

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Elster's hooves landed on the metal floor of the lower gallery. She turned and trudged forward, following the sound.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Ssssh.

Passing through the sliding door, the replika entered Maintenance. Aka Elster's Room.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

She walked around her calibration pod. "Has to be right...here..."

Elster froze. Her eyes locked on a particular part of the paneled wall.

After countless cycles, Elster and Ariane knew the Penrose 512 like the backs of their own, and each other's, hands. They new its interiors like they new each other's whole bodies. Every bolt, every panel, every scuff mark, every scratch. There was never anything new in their world, save what they imposed on it deliberately.

Until now. Until the Slot.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Elster's heart pounded. That's not right. That was never there. She stepped forward.

Set in the space between two panels, bolted to the wall roughly a foot above the floor, was what looked like, for all the world, a metal mail slot. Like that set in a door in a residential home, or apartment.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

The sound was coming from behind the wall. Above the slot, at roughly the height of Elster's chest.

Her heart raced. She gulped. She stepped closer. Her hand reached out.

"...h-hello?" she said.

Knock, knoc-

Elster flinched. Hand drew back.

Shink.

Her eyes snapped downward.

The slot was open.

"..." Elster trembled.

A folded stack of papers, covered in printed words, slid effortlessly through the slot. Then, the flap snapped shut again with a 'Clack'.

The replika was left gawking in the suffocating silence.

Eyes flicked between the solid wall, the mail slot, and the paper on the ground.

Shaking, she looked over her shoulder. Checking to see if Ariane, or something else, was behind her.

"..."

She saw nothing. Maintenance was empty, save for her and...the delivery.

Elster looked back at the wall. Carefully, with trepidation, pressed an ear to it. Felt the cold metal against her skin.

She heard nothing, save the omnipresent hum and vibration of the ship's many internal systems working as intended.

The replika checked over her shoulder again. Then, quickly stooped and picked up the paper.

Her hands trembled. Even at a glance, the script on the papers were in the Eusan language. But, dotted here and there, words of Imperial Terran.

Heart in a vise, she unfolded the newspaper and read the headline.

E L S T E R N E W S

All the News Fit for LSTR-512

Issue #1

ATROCITY AT ISSTVAN III! WARMASTER HORUS BETRAYS IMPERIUM!

"..."

Elster sank to her knees. Then, knelt down. Her hands clutched the paper in front of her, trembling. Her eyes stared at the page.

What? What is...no...No!

A cog in her mind turned. A fog, lifted. The dreamer grew lucid.

Elster remembered.

Her heart sank. She rubbed her head with one hand, as it all sank in. As a dozen bizarre moments and interactions slid terribly into place.

Elster remembered everything. Every. Painful. Detail.

Shhhhh.

"Ellie? What's going on?"

Elster froze, heart stopping.

"Did you find out what that noise was?" Ariane asked, the metal floor grating rattling beneath her feet as she cautiously stepped inside. "...where are you?"

"I'm here!" Elster said, looking over her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm just..."

She folded the paper as quietly as possible. Looking around, she set it down in the shadow of her calibration pod. There was nowhere else to hide it. At least, not quickly nor quietly.

The replika stood up and rounded the corner. "...I just finished my inspection," she lied, smiling. "I think I figured out what the noise was."

"Oh?" Ariane said, looking up at the replika in surprise. "What was it?"

"I think it's a...a loose part," Elster lied, being as vague as possible. "Nothing to worry about. It just needs fiddling with."

Ariane leaned sideways, attempting to look around Elster. "Are you sure? It was pretty loud."

The gestalt flinched as the replika clapped her hands on both Ariane's shoulders.

Elster smiled nervously. "Don't...you...worry..." she said, sweat rolling down her face. "Why...don't you go back up, while...I fix this?" She shut her eyes, to avoid her lover's reaction to her stilted, awkward speech. "I just need to grab my tools. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Ariane stared, bewildered. Then, she shrugged. "Okay..." She turned around. "If you're sure."

"I'm...very sure..." Elster said, patting her lover on the back and leading her to the door.

"You are coming back up, though, right?" Ariane said, looking over her shoulder at Elster. "I can't continue the painting if you're not modeling."

"I will absolutely be back up," Elster said, nodding. "I want nothing more than to keep sitting still for hours for you."

"Well, don't take too long, weirdo," Ariane said, giggling. She trudged ahead. "Getting to look at Ellie is why I get up every day."

Elster laughed. "...and I live for nothing else than to see you, Ari."

She watched Ariane walk to the ladder, before the sliding door cut her off.

More than you could possibly imagine, Elster thought, clutching hand to her chest. I'd do anything for you.

Elster looked over her shoulder, at the unseen newspaper sitting behind her pod. She frowned, sadly.

Even lie to your face.

Notes:

The Isstvan III Atrocity, for those unaware.

Chapter 25: Fateful Meetings

Notes:

For those who aren't familiar with 40K, the Isstvan III Atrocity.

"Why the dreams?"

The triple orifices flared, issuing forth light and heat and foul smoke, with each syllable. "And salutations to you as well, pseudo-fleshling," said Vashtorr, his voice like a fiery furnace, dripping oil, and metal scraping on metal. "Do your visitations with your woman vex you? I can have them cease, if they offend..."

"NO!" Elster yelled, heart stopping. She held out her hand. Her voice cracked. "No, no, please...please don't..." Her hand dropped, as did her eyes. "I don't want to stop seeing her. I just..." She inhaled. Exhaled. She looked up. "I just...want to know why."

"Understood," the daemonic demi-god said. "To elucidate, my servants are, ordinarily, intrinsically motivated. Daemons lured from their masters still serve them, in spirit. Following passions embedded in their very being. The Khornate pursue blood, skulls, battle, and glory. The Slaaneshi inflict pain, pleasure, pride, and gluttonous excess. And so forth. They require no inducement to reap souls, for indulging their hungers provide them as byproduct. It is similarly thus for the cultic rabble, and the heretek. One acts out of boundless devotion, or fear. The other, by manic dedication to The Work itself. All are valuable, for they need no prodding to do my will.

"You, LSTR Five One Two, by contrast, are extrinsically motivated. Whether base murder or assignment, your obeisance stems from contrivance. Save those instances where your desire to solve problems have already set you on the path for innovation." Vashtorr chuckled. "I highly encourage you continue on that course. But lo, absent the reward you seek - absent the thought of saving your woman - you would fly to the ends of the cosmos and never raise your weapon in anger again. Is this not so?"

Elster nodded. "It is so. I hate this."

"A fact noted and factored into my plans. Hence, the dreams. Human will, even replika, is fickle. It exhausts easily. Without the love of the Work itself, your motivation may diminish. Over a long enough timeline, even the base promise of your woman may cease to excite you. Absence only grows the heart's fondness, until it is unsighted, unminded. Would even your love turn to resentment, like ash in your mouth, LSTR Five One Two?"

The replika squirmed. She pursed her lips. Elster wanted to believe she'd never forget or forsake Ariane. Never abandon her to the daemon.

And yet...had she not built a new family for herself, on the Nomarch? Had she not filled her days with wholesome work, and her heart with new, fresh faces? Had Elster not acquired the joy of...?

The word "motherhood" still discomfited her. But did she not allow some of her...children...to use that word? That word, "mom"?

It pained her to contemplate. But...

"Naturally, your utility cannot be squandered, by permitting you to forget, no?" the daemon said. "Periodic reminders need deployment. To reaffirm why you serve. So you forget not Ariane Yeong, whom I hold so diligently in my care. And as reward, for faithful service."

And as a threat, Elster thought, chewing her lip. That if I don't keep working, not only will the dreams stop, but Ariane's very life could be in danger. You bastard.

"Is not my generosity overflowing, servant?" Vashtorr said.

Elster stifled a scowl. Put on a toothy, angry smile. "It...sure is...Dark Artificer..." Jaw set. Seething. She forced herself to breathe. "...I need to know. Is that Ariane real? Or is she one of your tricks?"

"A hollow deception, though well within my powers to enact," Vashtorr said, "would also rank as one of the most tedious charades I can imagine. It is beneath my dignity to entertain, and a squandering of my time and talents. And that of my other servants. Rest assured, it taxes me least to simply offer the genuine article. Projecting the consciousness of Ariane Yeong into a recreation of the Penrose 512, so you may share...quality time..."

Elster suppressed the soul-shredding thought that the Arkifane must, by necessity, be watching them, at least on some level. She had to count on his attention being, at best, academic. He was a daemon, and not a Slaaneshi one. He could not care less what she and Ariane did alone. It was a comfort she clung to. She HAD to, to maintain her ever-tenuous grip on sanity.

Instead, she simply allowed herself a relieved sigh. "I...believe you, Dark Artificer. You gain nothing from lying."

"True. Do you find this arrangement satisfactory?"

"Yes, Arkifane," Elster said, bowing her head.

"I concede there is a further utility in this arrangement, to myself," Vashtorr said. "Your woman is...troublesome. Placing her in the simulated Penrose renders her...easier to contain."

"...what does that mean?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It is no matter," Vashtorr said quickly. "Understand, servant, that my generosity stems from convenience on my part. Endeavor to maintain a contented relationship with your woman. Irksome, it would be, if a lover's spat made you less effective."

Elster hadn't planned on breaking up with Ariane, after all they'd suffered and sacrificed. But she nodded. "I will certainly try." She paused. "...what happens to Ariane when I'm not there?"

"Slumber," Vashtorr said. "Her mind, like her body, enters stasis. She does not experience the passage of time. It is as if you've wandered away in the night, and returned on the morn. From her perspective."

"That's...good, I suppose."

Elster hated the idea of deceiving Ariane like that. At least when Elster thought it was a dream, or in fact real in the moment, it was easy to go along as if nothing had changed. She was, after all, just as deceived and forgetful as Ariane herself. The replika frowned, knowing her conduct going forward would now be an act. A charade of her own, to keep Ariane believing nothing was wrong.

Just until I can get her out, Elster told herself. Just keep it going for now. Act normal. Enjoy it. Worry about the truth when she's out of his hands.

"Any other pressing concerns?" Vashtorr said. "Before we proceed with important matters?"

"One last thing," Elster said, crossing her arms. "Why a newspaper?"

"Truthfully," said Vashtorr, sounding as close to tired as a daemon lord could be, "it was not my design. Keeping my mortal servant informed is important, but not enough to require my personal attention at every turn. I delegated the task to one of my other, daemonic servants. A servant who, it seems, took liberties with the assignment. Likely for their own amusement. Do you find the form of these revelations dissatisfactory?"

"Not really, no," Elster said, shrugging. "I'm fine with how it is. I was just...curious. I'm satisfied with the explanation." She lied. The explanation only raised further questions. But she would worry about that later. "...was it Mik'hul writing them, or...?"

"No. A different servant," Vashtorr said. "T'dora Rouge-blood. Her name adorns the paper's writing credits."

Rouge-blood? Khornate? Elster thought, furrowing her brow. No, it's probably Slaaneshi. Hurray...

She sighed. "Alright, to business," Elster said. "Who is this Warmaster? Is his coup attempt going to complicate matters going forward?"

Vashtorr chuckled. "Immensely. As you've read, Horus's rebellion is presently locked in bloody stalemate on Isstvan III, his swift removal of troublesome loyalists within the ranks of his allied Legions spiraling into bitter, grinding attrition. This will not persist. The element of surprise squandered, Horus will engage the Emperor's forces in open civil war. A conflict that will spread, in one form or another, to every corner of the newly formed Imperium."

Elster bit her thumb. Sweat formed on her brow.

Verdammt noch mal.

"...we're going to be caught right in the middle of this, aren't we?" Elster said. "My replikas and I."

"If you fear for the Eusan system," Vashtorr said, "worry not. The isolated worlds of your birth, death, and rebirth will experience little fighting. Its infrastructure, from my foresight, remains intact. Though control of planets, traffic lanes, and industrial hubs may shift over the next decade, as a result of void engagements and battles elsewhere."

Elster sighed. "Well, that's one load off my mind." If nothing else, those she left behind would probably be safe. So long as they maintained a low profile, which they were doing already.

"Naturally, I have no shortage of tasks you may complete during this period, servant," Vashtorr said. "They demand mobility. Time is of the essence."

Unfortunate, but hardly surprising. A weary resignation settled into her chest. Elster nodded. "I suppose a civil war is a good time for you to further your plans?"

"Not just I." Vashtorr said. "Know that Horus does not march to war alone. Nay, not merely with nine of his brothers, and their Legions. The Ruinous Powers march with him."

"...which ones?" Elster said, chewing her thumb again. "Which god or gods have backed Horus?"

"All of them." Vashtorr rumbled, drawing out each word. "For the first time in millennia, the Dark Gods march together, side by side. The Great Game has turned cooperative, for the moment. Their servants pledged under the banner of Chaos Undivided."

Gotterdammerung! Elster thought. Suddenly, this felt much less like an admittedly wide-spread conflict she could exploit or, if need be, ride out back in Eusan. This was a full-blown cataclysm. She felt it in her bones.

A quotation from the newspaper, once seeming mere arrogance, now carried palpable weight: "Let the galaxy burn!"

"Now...for the most important task. This one, if you are to succeed with maximum success and minimal risk, demands you leave very soon..."

 

"Senior staff meeting!"

One by one, the eldest members of each replika type filed into the meeting room. Diodana arrived as well, taking a seat beside Daisy. On the Ara's other side was Vanessa, who sat next to Adler. Opposite these sat Dash and Hippolyta. The end of the table, opposite Elster and in front of the door, sat Jenny on a solidly built bench specifically constructed to bear her heavy frame.

The last to arrive were Circe, and the two other Kolibri that made up the beginnings of her circle: Isis (KLBR-N0602) and Shahrazad (KLBR-N0603). Their minds implanted by Circe herself.

"...should all the Kolibri be here?" Dash asked, looking at the three diminutive replikas. "Isn't this for senior staff?"

"I asked Circe to bring them," Elster said. "This matter concerns anyone with bioresonant ability."

"Moreover," said Circe, walking hand in hand with Isis while Shahrazad clung, apprehensively, to her mother's shoulder, "it would be impossible to keep all that I know secret from them, for long."

"So..." said Vanessa, watching them walk to the side opposite her, "...do they know about...you know...?" The Eule pointed to the ceiling.

Shahrazad whined, drawing closer to Circe and clinging to her arm. Isis squeezed Circe's hand, putting on a brave face.

Circe looked to Jenny.

The Mynah, eyes lighting up, rose from her seat and turned around. She shut the meeting room door. She turned around and nodded.

Circe nodded back. "Yes," she said to Vanessa. "They've met the daemon. I couldn't hide it from them anymore."

When Shahrazad grew restless again, Circe turned her head and raised her free hand, stroking the younger Kolibri's cheek. No audible words were exchanged, but the two pressed their foreheads together and shut their eyes. This seemed to calm Shahrazad somewhat.

"So," said Adler, lacing his fingers together, "I take it everyone in this room has met...him...?"

Jenny smiled nervously. "Well...I haven't, for...obvious reasons..." She chuckled, shutting her eyes.

The Penrose 313 was simply too small, as were its entrances, to easily allow ingress and exit for a MNHR model. And the ladder bridge leading up from Nomarch to Penrose too frail for her weight. Access was possible, but would require her to walk across both ship hulls in hard vacuum. Elster, wisely, elected to skip an in-person introduction. Words, as a matter of practicality, would have to suffice.

Hippolyta beckoned Circe over with a finger, and pushed her chair back. "My lady," she said, smiling. She patted her lap.

Dash, looking between them, shuffled to the next seat over, so two seats flanked the Storch.

Circe nodded, then led her circle forward. She patted both Kolibri on the cheeks. They each, somewhat reluctantly, detached from their mother. The eldest Kolibri hopped onto Hippolyta's lap, patting the Storch's leg. Her progeny took seats on either side.

Dash looked down at fretful Shahrazad and placed a hand gently on the little one's shoulder. The Kolibri flinched, then looked up at Dash with relief. She smiled weakly, basking in the easy-going vibes.

Isis sat nearest to Jenny. They looked at each other. "H-hello..." Isis said, nodding to the Mynah.

Jenny smiled back warmly. "You're being very brave," she said, holding a colossal hand out to the Kolibri.

Isis hesitated, then boldly patted the knuckles of the gloved hand. She nodded in affirmation.

Circe eyed her junior circle members, smiling. She looked up at the Storch. "Hey, beautiful," she said.

Hippolyta leaned her head down and kissed Circe full on the lips. When they detached, the Storch wrapped her arms around the Kolibri possessively. "I know you are," she said, smiling, "but what am I?"

"Ahem."

Diodana crossed her metal arms. "If the pleasantries are quite finished..."

Elster coughed, fumbling with papers. "Yes," she said, rising to her feet, "let's begin."

She paced in front of the table. "I've...had a meeting with Vashtorr."

The room went still.

Jenny, looking around, leaned over to Adler. "...who is Vashtorr again?" she whispered.

"Arch-daemon, and her bondholder," Adler whispered. "She and the Penrose creature both work for him." He looked uneasily at Elster.

"Oh." Jenny sat back up.

"...when?" Dash asked, cocking an eyebrow at Elster.

"Just this morning," Elster said, "after I woke from my calibration pod. There was...a lot to deal with..."

Circe chimed in. "...did you see her? The White Mother."

Elster looked at Circe, then nodded. "...yes, I did," she said. She stared out into space. "...but my happy dream has been...disrupted." She looked around at everyone at the table. "That's why I asked you all here."

She leaned on the meeting table and sighed, shutting her eyes. "I don't know how to say this, except to just say it." Elster opened her eyes and stared forward. "The Imperium is about to become embroiled in civil war."

Everyone reacted in various degrees of surprise, shock, or fear.

"A civil war?" Diodana exclaimed, sitting up suddenly.

"Oh my!" Jenny said, bringing her oversized fingers to her cheek.

"Oh no!" Daisy said, wringing her hands fitfully.

"That's...really not good," Vanessa said, resisting the urge to reach up and tug her straw-colored hair.

Shahrazad, perhaps reacting more to the tension in the room than really understanding the gravity of the situation, began to wriggle and pant.

Circle merely looked at her junior.

Shahrazad turned to her suddenly, looking into her eyes. She clenched her fist, then nodded. The girl began her deep breathing exercises.

Hippolyta, without being prompted, sighed, then reached a hand down and pulled Shahrazad's chair closer. "Come 'ere, you," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

The little one squeaked, but settled down when Circe, now much closer, reached out and patted her on the shoulder.

"You're sure about this?" Diodana said, pointing to Elster.

"Yes," Elster nodded, standing up. "He was very clear on that. It won't be small, either. The Imperium will be torn in half, split right down the middle on virtually every organizational level."

"Who could possibly have the power to compel the kind of loyalty to sway half the Imperium to their cause?" Diodana asked.

"You're familiar with Warmaster Horus?" Elster said.

"Horus Lupercal?" the tech priest said, tilting her head. "The Primarch of the Luna Wolves? First recovered of the Emperor's sons?"

"The very same. I think they're called the 'Sons of Horus' now."

The tech priest looked down, rubbing her head. "Unbelievable..." she said. Diodana looked back at Elster. "And you say he was declared Warmaster?"

"That's right," Elster nodded. "I think it's a recent development, since you've last been in the Imperium."

"What's a Warmaster?" Dash asked, raising her hand.

"A title that, until now, was merely theoretical," Diodana said. "It conferred control over the entire armed forces of the Imperium."

"Why theoretical?" asked Adler, leaning over to see the tech priest.

"Because until recently, apparently, operational control of the Imperium's military might was held by the Emperor himself. The man the Mechanicum declared its Omnissiah was, since the Unification Wars on Terra, a warlord as well as an architect of the Imperium's political apparatus."

Circe's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, I think I heard some gestalts talking about that, last time I visited Rotfront."

"Talking about, or thinking about?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow and narrowing her eyes.

Circe shrank into the Storch's arms. "Heh heh...b-both..." She coughed. "Word has been trickling in, even all the way out in Eusan. The Emperor has retired to his palace on Terra. Leaving his armies to finish the Great Crusade without him." She stroked her chin. "Guess he left this Horus guy in charge."

Diodana steepled her fingers together. "Remind me to confer with the KLBR units more often," she muttered. She raised her voice. "If Horus has broken faith with his father, AND was invested with the powers of Warmaster...yes, he could have the power to attempt a coup. He was known as the most charismatic and well-liked of the Primarchs."

"Why would he do that, though?" Vanessa said, looking to Elster.

"Why do any of these powerful types turn coat?" Hippolyta said, shrugging. "Fear, pride, self-interest. It's all the same."

Elster shook her head. "I don't know his reasons," she said. "What I do know is he intended to quickly purge the ranks of his Space Marine Legion, along with that of those Primarchs sworn to him, of loyalists." She frowned. "He burned some planet called Isstvan III from orbit, while the loyalists were on it. Using something called the...'life-eater virus'?"

Diodana recoiled. "He used Exterminatus grade..." She started to tremble. "He used the Life-Eater Virus!? On his own sons!? Unthinkable!"

"Life...eater...virus?" Jenny asked, tilting her head quizzically.

Diodana turned to the Mynah. "You do not want to know!" She turned to the rest of the table. "None of you want to know." She pointed to Circe. "Do not go rifling through my mind looking for answers! My mentor told me! And now I'm telling you, you don't want to know!"

Elster held out her hands. "Alright, alright, settle down," she said, "you're spooking Shahrazad."

Isis walked around the Storch and hugged her sister from behind. Stroking the trembling Kolibri's hair. "Shh...shh..." she said, "there, there..."

Adler tapped the table. "Agreed. We're getting off track." He looked to Elster. "You were saying."

Elster nodded. "I think Horus desired to quietly purge his ranks, then march to Terra under the guise of its Warmaster. Then, when it place, enact his coup."

Dash raised her hand. "Hey, uh..." she said, looking between the assembled, "...do we...want that? As in, would it be positive for us if Horus succeeded?"

Diodana, trembling like a leaf, elected to fold her arms and say nothing.

"Yeah...I mean, it's not like the Imperium ever liked replikas," said Vanessa, playing with her hair. She cracked a smile. "Maybe if Horus was in charge, we'd get a better deal? Convince him to rescind the ban on replikas?"

Isis looked up from comforting Shahrazad. "Elster is thinking no."

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. "Isis..."

Circe shot her daughter a dirty look. "What have we told you about..."

Isis shrank back. "What? She was thinking it really loudly!"

Elster sighed. "No, no, she's right," she said. "The Mechanicum, who declared us Abominable Intelligence, isn't a neutral party in this. Horus apparently has someone called the Fabricator General on his side..."

Diodana smacked metal hands on the table. "He DOES!?"

"That someone important?" Dash said, leaning back.

"He controls Holy Mars," exclaimed Diodana, "and by extension the Mechanicum as a whole! ...in as far as any single Archmagos can be said to 'control' the disparate forge thanes throughout the galaxy..." She looked down, thinking. "...if the Fabricator General is in on it...yes, that would explain how Horus could possibly think his plan would work."

"And why the Mechanicum, like all other branches of the Imperium, would be split down the middle," said Elster, nodding. "In any event, it doesn't matter. If Horus planned to take the whole galaxy quietly, he failed. According to Vashtorr, word is already trickling out about his atrocity. And apparently, Horus didn't do a good enough job killing his loyalists, because he's fighting the survivors on Isstvan III even now."

"But how could there be survivors, if..." Diodana stroked her respirator. "...well...if they were in perfectly sealed power armor..."

"Point is," Elster insisted, "any chance of easy, quiet regime change is dead in the water, along with all those marines. The Imperium is, right now, preparing for war."

She looked out at the table, gravely. "The galaxy is about to be torn apart by conflict on an unheard of scale. According to Vashtorr, it will last nearly a decade."

The table grew silent, as each replika and gestalt took the news in.

Circe was the first to break the silence. "I don't need to read your thoughts, Elster," she said, "to know you're holding things back. Do you mind sharing? Or is this one of those 'need to know' situations?"

Elster sighed. "...I suppose it's best to just lay all the cards on the table." She looked out at the assembled group. "There is Good News, Bad News, and Worse News."

Vanessa squirmed. "...maybe...tell us the Good News first?"

"Perhaps it would be better to get the Worse News out of the way," said Adler twiddling his thumbs. "So the news to follow will 'cushion the blow', so to speak."

Dash nodded. "I guess. Everyone fine with that?"

Daisy and the Kolibris looked uncomfortable, but didn't interject.

"Just hit us with it, Elster," Hippolyta said. "No point dragging this out."

Elster nodded. "Very well," she said. She paced back and forth for a moment, breathing. Hands behind her back. "Worse News: As a followup to the matter of the oncoming Imperium civil war, it's not just Horus and his forces at play against the Loyalists." Elster stopped, inhaled, exhaled. "...he has backers."

"Backers?" Diodana said.

"Chaos," Elster said, flatly.

Vanessa tugged her hair. "...what kind of Chaos...?" She winced. "Oh! You mean...?"

"The Ruinous Powers..." Daisy said. She tucked her knees against her chest and hugged them. "Oh no..."

Jenny looked confused. "...I'm sorry, I'm still getting up to speed on these 'cosmic' matters..." She frowned. "When you say 'Chaos' and 'Ruinous Powers'...?"

"Daemons and Dark Gods," Hippolyta said. "Like Elster's boss."

"Vashtorr is something akin to a Chaos demi-god," Elster said, scratching her head. She frowned. "There are powers greater than him, to whom he...I guess you could call the Arkifane a 'weapons dealer' to the Dark Gods. He doesn't serve any single one, but sells his dark artifice to all sides in their 'Great Game'."

"Oh," said Jenny, tilting her head. "So...that means they're not all on the same...side...?"

"Usually, yes," Elster nodded. She was turned away, facing a blank wall. She looked over her shoulder. "This time, not so much. This time, Chaos is...Undivided. At least, in this respect. They've all put their conflicts on hold to back Horus."

The room went silent. Jaws dropped across the board. Eyes wide.

"...you're kidding!" Dash said, slamming a fist on the table. "All the Daemon Gods of the Warp are...they're going to..."

Circe trembled so much, she forgot herself. Much less the other members of her circle. The room started to buzz with low-level bioresonant static.

"Oi!" Hippolyta said, frowning. She patted her girlfriend's head. "Enough of that!"

The head Kolibri shot to attention. "Ah!" she grunted. She suppressed the bioresonant feedback in her own mind. Circle reached to her left, patting the trembling Shahrazad. "Shh...shh...Hippolyta, can you get Isis?"

"Sure," the Storch said. She reached out and patted Isis's head as well. "Wake up, wake up. Stop that right now."

The two junior Kolibri were brought back to attention. At a mental signal from Circe, they began their breathing exercises. The buzzing in the air subsided.

Dash, rubbing her temples, sighed. "...thank fuck..."

Daisy kept hugging her knees. "So...Horus's forces are going to have daemonic allies?"

"That sounds bad," Jenny said, touching her large index fingers together nervously.

"It is," Elster said. "I have no way of knowing what sort of power the Dark Gods may have invested in servants sworn to them. Vashtorr's own influence can be strong, if limited. I'd hate to imagine what the greater powers could do, if properly motivated."

"...at least we're...nominally aligned with one..." Vanessa said, putting on a nervous smile. "Not to say we're on Vashtorr's side, I mean! Just...Elster doing his bidding has to account for something, right?"

"I don't know if my relationship to Vashtorr really qualifies me to any 'protection', as such," Elster said. "It's not like the servants, mortal or daemonic, of the various Dark Gods will really stop taking shots at each other, even if fighting together. It's not in their nature. They're just more likely to treat each other as allied competitors, rather than full enemies...I guess."

"I see why you call them 'Chaos' now," Diodana said, rubbing her head. "It is all very confusing."

Elster scratched her head. "Sorry I can't be more concrete. If nothing else, even if daemons can't be reasoned with, the mortals who channel or make pacts with them might be more amenable. If we had to, we could try making limited agreements with them. Though, for obvious reasons, I want to avoid getting entangled in this war as much as possible."

"Agreed!" Circe said, raising her hand. Her junior cohorts raised their hands as well.

"I agree as well," Diodana said, raising a mechanical hand. "As Elster has ably demonstrated, little good comes from becoming embroiled in the machinations of Warp entities. Least of all self-styled daemons. And I think I speak for all of us, when I say avoiding direct involvement in the battles to come is preferable."

Everyone nodded.

"This brings me to the Good News," Elster said, smiling. "Unless Vashtorr is lying maliciously...which I can't discount, but also think doesn't really serve him to lie in this manner...the Eusan system should be spared the brunt of the fighting to come."

"Really?" Daisy said, eyes lighting up.

"There'll be no fighting here?" Vanessa asked.

"I didn't say that," Elster said, closing her eyes. "It's just that, aside from Rotfront and what's been rebuilt on Heimat, Eusan is kind of a backwater. Barely garrisoned, few ships. The population still hasn't recovered from the replika purges, so there's no plurality of people to take as slaves. Even with Rotfront's industry, there's not enough to really fight ground wars over."

"This is true," Diodana said, tapping her respirator thoughtfully. "It's easier to engage in void battles over supply lines, to establish control over the planets that way. And we're far enough out in the periphery that most loyalist forces will prefer to concentrate defenses closer to Terra and Mars. Or else to larger, more valuable systems, with Hive, Agri, or Forge worlds. At worst, the system may serve as a staging area for offensives or defensives in nearby subsectors."

"Well that's a ripoff," Dash said, frowning. "The Imperium conquered us, and they won't even put up a fight to keep us?"

"They'll use gestalts as pawns, won't they?" Daisy said, staring down at her knees. "Whichever side it is, the people of Eusan will have the whip cracked to make them support their war effort."

"What else is new?" Hippolyta shrugged, petting her girlfriend's head.

"Will the Aras below Rotfront be safe?" Daisy asked, looking up.

"Oh right! Poppy, Pansy, and Tansy are down there!" Vanessa said. She frowned, tugging a lock of hair. "I hope they're alright."

"Since Rotfront's industrial capacity is of paramount importance to whichever side controls Eusan," said Adler, stroking his chin, "it stands to reason collateral damage will be kept to a minimum. Moreover, the tunnel complexes beneath the moon's surface will grant them some protection even if orbital bombardment occurs."

Elster nodded. "Agreed," Elster said, "and those on the other worlds are so beneath the notice of either side, as to be safe from the war's reach. There's just no reason to waste time trawling the deserts of Kitezh, the waters of Vineta, or the ice-drifts of Leng." She looked sideways. "So long as everyone keeps their heads down, replika survivors could muddle through safely."

"Not to mention hiding in the Oort Cloud," said Jenny, raising a single huge finger. "We were out there for years, and never got bothered. That was when the system was being patrolled."

"To some extent, that was dumb luck," Diodana said, crossing her arms. "All those years, I always held out hope an Imperial patrol would come along and rescue me. Too late for that now, of course. But the Joys of Duty found the Nomarch the first time. It's incredible luck - what kind I couldn't say - that another patrol never located it again."

"Still," Vanessa said, "if there's a war going on, both sides will have better things to do than search the periphery for ships smaller than most Imperium escort craft." She waved her hand. "We could hide here for a decade, if we had to."

"It's just a shame we won't be doing that."

The table, previously regaining good cheer after the dire warnings of war and Chaos, fell silent. They looked to Elster.

The replika sighed. "This is the Bad News I was talking about," Elster said, shutting her eyes. When she opened them again, she said, "We...or more accurately I...have to go out there into the thick of it."

The others were stunned.

"Wh-wh-why?" Vanessa said, mouth agape.

Circe pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "...because Vashtorr has missions for her. Right, mom?"

Elster nodded. "Yes. Unfortunately, when I said Chaos was on the move, that was ALL of Chaos. The Soul Forges included. Vashtorr has his own designs. And I'm one of his agents." She frowned sadly. "I'm afraid there's just too much potential debt I can discharge, to stay in Eusan."

"How many souls worth of debt could possibly be on the line to justify flying into a galaxy-spanning warzone?" asked Diodana.

Elster sighed.

[This Page Intentionally Left Blank]

Hippolyta whistled. "Fuck. That's a lot."

"Oh my!" Jenny said, touching the side of her face.

Daisy gulped. "That's...a lot of people you wouldn't need to kill..."

"Is that all the debt you could get discharged in total, throughout the civil war...?" asked Vanessa, "...or...?"

"That is the amount of debt I could discharge doing one, single mission," Elster said, holding up a finger. "Admittedly, that's the top end of the value curve."

Hippolyta whistled again. "Well yeah, you HAVE to do that one, at least. Plus, you're liable to kill a bunch of assholes getting there and back."

"It's way too tempting to pass up, isn't it?" Dash said.

"I mean, we don't HAVE to..." Vanessa began, before petering out. Even she knew that amount was so high, even SHE would have trouble resisting the risk, if it were her debt. Indeed, she'd probably be more eager, since she couldn't countenance the idea of committing mass murder herself...

"It would be a far more efficient use of our time, yes," Diodana said. "Setting aside the danger, sitting around in hiding would only prolong our commitment to the Arkifane's murderous designs."

"Say what you want about war," Elster said, folding her arms, "it's filled with opportunities."

Daisy sighed. "So...we're going to war, then?"

"We're not really 'going to war'," Dash said, shrugging. "Just...flying into one already in progress, to run some errands. Maybe do some looting on the side. It's a war, so there'll be plenty of booty for the taking." She smiled. "Who knows? Maybe we could snag a second ship."

"That, in itself, is highly tempting," Diodana said. "So long as it's not a Mechanicum vessel, of course..."

"Since the Mechanicum will be embroiled in civil war, same as all others," Adler said, leaning over to look at the tech priest, "can it really be said to be one organization? Who, exactly, would you be 'rooting for', madam tech priest?"

Diodana's four photo-receptors went dark, a sign she had shut her eyes, so to speak. She tapped her respirator. "...I haven't given it enough thought. That IS a good question. If even the Fabricator General has aligned to Horus, Holy Mars itself is divided. Are my allegiances to the Mechanicum even valid, hereteknical outcast that I am?" She leaned back in her chair and fell silent.

Daisy stared at her teacher, then sighed. "...so...we ARE going into a warzone?"

Elster tapped the table with her finger, pensively. "Only...if you feel comfortable going."

She let the table focus on her, then continued. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it," Elster said, eyes sweeping over the room. "What I'm planning is incredibly dangerous. We'd be flying into spaces replete with active void battles. Where planets, space stations, whole orbital volumes will be on high alert. Where no one trusts a random ship flying about with no known markings, that refuses to claim allegiance to either side. For god's sake, we barely know how to operate the Nomarch's guns. And we have only a handful of the Joys's lascannons.

"Moreover," Elster continued, tilting her head to the side, "if we start operating in a mercenary fashion out there, during a real war, we won't have the same luxury of picking and choosing our battles that we've enjoyed thus far. Our last major work as a warband was mopping up half-feral Ork raiders on a frontier world. We could leave at any time, and suffer no risk. That's not an impunity we'll enjoy out there."

She paced the floor, looking around at her replikas. Watched them soberly consider this information. The light of recognition in their eyes.

Elster stopped, hands behind her back. "We've been damn lucky," she said. "That luck won't necessarily continue. If we leave, we'll be marching into WAR." She suppressed a shudder, the deep-seated trauma in her bones threatening to bubble up again. "And best case scenario, our 'home base' here in Eusan will be months of constant Warp travel, possibly years, away. We may be far from home for the better part of a decade. Far from relative safety." She sighed. "If we go, we'll be in the shit for a long time."

She paced again, shaking her head. She looked around at the table. "So when I say 'we', I'm talking only to those who want to go," Elster said. "I won't blame anyone, if they'd rather stay behind. If you want to go to Rotfront to stay with the Aras, or with Doctor Liang on Kitezh, that's..."

"Oh, give it a rest, will you?"

Elster looked up.

Hippolyta glared at her. "We already had this fucking discussion," she said. "We already said we're with you."

"No," Elster said, pointing at the Storch. "Not everyone here was at that meeting. Moreover, that was about whether everyone was okay morally with staying. With being a party to death-dealing. This is a matter of basic personal safety. It's completely different!"

"How is it different?" Hippolyta said.

"Because this is life and death!" Elster yelled. "And I don't want to see any of you die!"

The room was silent.

Panting, Elster frowned. She looked to the floor. Inhaled. Exhaled.

"...I...don't expect, nor want, you to make a decision on the spot," Elster said. She looked sideways at the crowd. "This may be the biggest choice any of you ever make, that will determine the course of the rest of your lives. I'm sorry I can't give you more time, but I need a decision from you by this time tomorrow. From there, we can go through the rest of the crew, giving the same choice to them."

She turned to look fully at them all. "You are all, every one of you...very important to me," Elster said. She pressed her hand to her lips. Choked back a sob. "hsss...I...want...I need you to think long and hard about this. Because if you're not 100% sure, I'd rather you stay behind. At least then, I know you're safe."

"...mom..." Vanessa said, reaching out a hand.

"Please," Elster said, shutting her eyes. She raised her own hand, palm out. "I can't, right now. Just...think about." She sighed, turning away. "Meeting adjourned."

She didn't turn back until she heard everyone, slowly, quietly, rise from their seats and leave.

Daisy was the last to go. Standing at the doorway, looking back. Hands clasped together, pressed to her heart.

Elster chanced a single look over her shoulder, then looked back at the wall. "Please, Daisy," she said, quietly. "Just go. I need to be alone."

The Ara frowned, then reluctantly left.

Elster sank into her chair and held her face in her hands.

Chapter 26: A Ship of Fools (And She The Queen Fool)

"Mind if I join you?"

Dash looked over her shoulder, eyes alight. "Oh...uh...no, I don't mind."

Vanessa stepped forward, crossing her arms.

The two stared out the window at the infinite sea of stars.

For minutes, they just stood in the empty observation lounge. Totally silent.

The Star broke the quiet first. "...have you given it any thought?"

The Eule sighed. "Too much thought," Vanessa said. Looked over her shoulder, checking for eavesdroppers. When she saw they were alone, she looked sidelong at the Star. "It's scary, isn't it? Going to war?"

"I guess," Dash said, shrugging.

"Real war, I mean," Vanessa said, inclining her head for emphasis. "Not assassinating hive gang leaders, not Ork hunting, not training militias, not...mopping up frontier engagements from a safe distance. Where we can leave at any time. Real, actual war." She looked out the window again. "Where no one is truly safe."

"We've never been truly safe," Dash said, tipping her head back to look down her nose at the stars. "We could have been discovered at any time over the last few years. What would have happened if the Imperium found us, out in the Oort Cloud? Harboring an unwilling Mechanicum prisoner? Disassembling an Imperium vessel for parts? Living in a ship bearing the symbol of a defeated Empire." She shut her eyes. "Just being replikas would have gotten us blasted out of the sky."

Vanessa's trembling fingers hovered next to a lock of straw-colored hair. She forced her hand back down. "...we were, and are, so very lucky," she said. "Weren't we? Aren't we?" She frowned. "Should we really be pressing our luck? Or...wouldn't it be better to just...stay in Eusan? Keep our heads down?"

"We're always in danger, Van," Dash said, crossing her arms. She opened her eyes. They didn't leave the stars. "The galaxy has always been hostile to our very existence. Since we were born. Nothing has fundamentally changed."

"It has, though!" Vanessa said, looking over. "The galaxy hasn't been..." She looked nervously over her shoulder again. The Eule lowered her voice. "...it hasn't been poised on the edge of galactic civil war, between powers with inexhaustible armies and weapons that make our look like toys."

"And those weapons will all be pointed at each other," Dash said. "If there's ever going to be a chance of us getting across those stars..." She pointed at the void. "...it'll be now, when the two mightiest forces will only have eyes for their opposite number."

Vanessa's posture slumped. "We can't trust they'll just leave us alone. We can't trust they'll let us go about our own business, when they're all looking for enemy agents."

"We also can't trust..." Dash looked over her shoulder. "...we can't trust that Vashtorr is being wholly truthful when he says the Eusan system will be safe for us. He might be lying, or he might be wrong. Or the situation might change, specifically because we're acting. Elster could be the lynch pin that changes the direction of this war. What then?"

The Eule couldn't resist anymore. She nervously tugged on her hair. Wincing, as she felt both pain and a measure of relief. "...I suppose..." Her lower lip trembled. "...I guess we can't be sure of anything..."

Dash placed a hand on Vanessa's own, causing the Eule to stop tugging.

"There's no point in worrying," Dash said. "No where is, or truly can be, safe. So you can't fixate on what might happen."

Vanessa looked sidelong at the Star. She looked down. "...I'm sorry, I just...I'm always worried about keeping everything running around here. Worrying about what might happen is part of my job."

Dash nodded. "That's okay, you have nothing to be sorry about." She looked back at the void. "All I know for certain is, the most productive good I can do is be here. Stay with Elster. She needs me. The other Stars need me." She looked over her shoulder. "...you know, if Elster goes to war, she'll need way more fighters. More Stars, more Storches. She'll probably need to build a Schnapper or three."

Gears turned in the Eule's head. "...and they'll need you around, to get them in fighting shape."

"That's right," Dash said. "Those models all have the memory of fighting, of course. But...it's...outdated. You couldn't pull a new Star from calibration, and expect her to know how to use a lasgun. Nor how to fight an Ork, and you know full well those guys will crawl out of the woodwork to join the 'fun'. Nor how to deal with the Imperium's tactics." She shrugged. "Without someone who knows the ropes, they'll be at a disadvantage. And Elster will have enough on her plate, without babysitting the newbies."

"...yeah..." Vanessa said. She nodded, chewing her thumb. "...it's the same with the other Eules, I suppose. It took forever for me to learn how to keep this ship running smoothly. Stop the kitchens from falling apart, keep everything clean. Adler knows time-tables and work orders, but he doesn't actually know how it all gets done. Diodana only knows technology, not...domesticity."

Dash frowned. "...I'm not trying to bully you into..."

"No," said Vanessa, shaking her head. "No, you're not doing that. You're right. Elster will need to build more Eules anyway. If it's not me here, it'll be one of the others. And we can't count on all the senior Eules wanting to stay on the ship...when we have to tell everyone."

"Tell everyone what?"

The two replikas nearly jumped out of their synthetic skin. They looked behind them.

"S-sally!" Vanessa said, smiling nervously. "How...long have you been standing there?"

The Eule with the side-braid shrugged, hands clutching a basket of dirty clothes. "Uh...about when Dash was talking about Orks coming out of the woodwork," she said, dumbly. She frowned. "Is...something wrong?"

Vanessa clapped her hands on Sally's shoulders, causing the younger Eule to flinch.

"Nothing is..." Vanessa started. She frowned. "Uh...I guess there's no point pretending, is there?"

Dash crossed her arms and shook her head. "It's not like she won't learn about it soon..."

"Learn about what?" Sally asked, looking back and forth between them. "What's going on? Is it bad?"

Vanessa smiled nervously. "It's..." She sighed. "Look, Sally. Dash is right. Elster is going to announce it soon enough." She looked her junior sister up and down. "...you're still with Myrtle, right?"

"Yeah?" said Sally, tilting her head. "Why?"

Vanessa patted Sally's shoulder lightly. "You should go spend time with her," she said, nodding. "Things are going to get...tense around here, soon. I want you to go have some fun with Myrtle."

"R-right now?" Sally said, smiling nervously. "B-but I have a laundry shift to do..." She held up her basket.

"Don't worry about that!" Vanessa said, taking the basket. "I'll take your shift. You go see Myrtle."

"Oh...okay..." Sally said, leaving her hands free. "But what if Myrtle is working now?"

Vanessa pulled a hand-held radio from her belt. "Diodana, can you spare Myrtle for me please?" she said into the microphone.

After a moment, the radio roared to life. "I suppose..." came the tech priest's double-distorted voice. "ARAR-N0607 is not currently scheduled to work..."

"Great! Thank you!" Vanessa said, smiling as if the tech priest could see her. "Talk to you...tomorrow, I guess..."

"...yes..." Diodana said. "If that is all...?"

"It is, thank you," Vanessa said. "Over and out." She cut the feed. Looked at the Eule in front of her. "All set! Go to your girl!"

"R-right!" Sally said, blushing. She turned around and walked towards the door. "Th-thank you, Van! See you later!"

"Enjoy yourselves!" Vanessa said, waving. When the younger Eule departed, Vanessa slumped. "Everything needs to be a production around here, I swear..."

Dash stood next to her and clapped a hand on the Eule's shoulder. "You sure you want to spend this time doing laundry?"

"Work is...soothing," Vanessa said, nodding. She patted Dash's hand. "I need something to take my mind off this..."

"Shouldn't we be thinking?" Dash said.

Vanessa sighed. "...no..." She looked down at the dirty laundry basket. "I've...already made up my mind." She looked over at the Star. "As have you, I think."

Dash blinked, then nodded. "Sure have."

"I just hope this doesn't get around," Vanessa said, hefting her basket.

 

"An Imperium civil war? That's awful!"

Jenny smiled nervously, large finger scratching her face.

In the end, she couldn't keep a secret from Rose.

"Please, Rose," the Mynah said, "don't spread this around. We're not supposed to talk about it, until the senior staff has made their decisions."

The Ara nodded, clutching one of Jenny's many stuffed animals to her chest. "Okay. I understand." She looked down at the stuffed rabbit in thought. "...so, we're getting involved, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jenny said, nodding. She took up a colossal stuffed bear and patted its head. "Elster has...things she needs to do. Out there."

"What things?" Rose asked.

"Don't know yet," Jenny said. "It's important, though. So, much as I think she'd like to, Elster can't sit this war out."

"It's awful," Rose said, hugging the rabbit. "So many people are going to die. It's not fair."

"War never is," Jenny said, shaking her head.

"You said senior staff needed to make their decisions?" Rose said, sitting up straight. "What about?"

"It's strange," Jenny said, looking away, "being included among 'senior staff'. You've been here way longer than I have."

"Don't change the subject," Rose said.

"Sorry," the Mynah said, smiling. She looked at the Ara. "Elster told us we all needed to decide if...we wanted to join her. In going to war, I mean." She sighed. "It's a...big decision..."

"Have you decided?"

The Mynah looked down at the bear. She hugged it, feeling the give of its soft body despite the thick layers of material on her arms.

"...I'm of two minds," Jenny said. "On the one hand, I'm just a Mynah. I'm not a fighter. For the first time since I was activated, I kind of wish I was a Schnapper. Then, the decision would be a no-brainer." She nuzzled her face in the bear's soft head.

"And on the other hand?"

"On the other hand," Jenny said, looking up. "I'm still a big replika. Strong, durable. Something tells me, Elster needs as much help as she can get. If anyone should go, it should be me. Even if I don't know how to fight...even if I don't have the temperament for it...I'd still be useful. Whether that's hauling cargo, ripping open doors, or...just putting myself in front of the rest of them. If I could protect Elster and everyone else..." Jenny smiled. "...yeah, I think that would be worth it."

"Don't sell yourself short," Rose said, shaking her head. "You're more than just your chassis. You're not just an object, to be used and discarded." She frowned, hugging the rabbit. "We all love you. It's like Elster always says: 'your life has value, just because you're you'."

Jenny laughed. "I suppose she does say that, doesn't she?" She sighed. "Still...I can't help think I'm needed out there." She giggled. "Besides, while I could be useful down in Rotfront, digging out tunnels, they'd also need to widen all the ones they already have. I wouldn't want to impose on them, just to accommodate me."

Rose sat up. "Well, if you're going," she said, staring, "I will too."

"No."

Rose flinched.

Jenny's face was hard, her mouth set. "I mean..." She frowned. "You...shouldn't go. That is, not just because I'm going."

"I can help, though!" Rose said. "I can help you!"

"You need to focus on yourself, Rose," Jenny said, firmly. "There will be no shortage of Aras. Elster can make more, if she needs them. It's like you said: 'your life has value'."

Rose blushed, looking down.

Jenny's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Rose. But I can't have you coming into a warzone with us. Not unless it's what you really want. You need to do what is right for you. I won't begrudge you that. None of us will."

"...will you really just leave me behind?" Rose said, frowning. "Just like that?"

"I would never abandon you," Jenny said. "But I can't abandon Elster either. This is not about what I want. This is about what you need, for yourself." She reached out, gingerly placing her immense hand on the Ara's shoulder. "Look, I think my mind is made up. But there's no reason for you to decide now. There'll be time for you to make your decision, while we get the Nomarch ready to launch. Don't rush into it, without really thinking. Can you do that for me?"

Rose sniffed, a tear forming in her eye. She brushed it away with the finger. "...o-okay..."

"There's a good girl," Jenny said, smiling. "We'll still have some time together yet."

 

"So much to do, so little time to do it."

The tech priest nodded, not taking her four photo-receptors off the work before her. Mechanical hands and mechadendrites played over the workbench. "A refrain endlessly familiar to me, yes," she said. "Arc welder."

Daisy ran over and retrieved the arc welder from the shelf. "Got it!" she said, hauling it over.

"Only a month's notice before departure," Adler said, paging through his clipboard. "I know the Commander has no control over when she receives her...intel...but it would have been preferable to receive this due date earlier."

"Agreed," Diodana said, holding up the arc welder. "Avert or shield eyes, please."

Daisy lowered her welding mask. Adler could only turn and look away as the back wall lit up bright blue from the machine's glare.

The Ara sighed, trundling over to Adler. "Have you decided yet?"

"Hmm?" Adler said, turning his head enough to signal attention, without exposing his eyes to the light. "Oh, there was no decision to make. I will, of course, be staying on the Nomarch."

"Really?" Daisy said, frowning behind her mask. "That quickly?"

"On this, we agree, ADLR-N0601," Diodana said, turning off the arc welder. She set the tool down. "Light hazard abated. You may look now." Her mechadendrites returned to work.

Daisy lifted her mask and looked at her teacher. "I mean, I guess teacher was always going to stay."

"Affirmative," Diodana said, nodding. "My pronouncement, back on that day aboard the Penrose 313, still stands. The Nomarch 06 requires my expertise. I will not abandon it." She paused, for only a second. "Moreover," she said, continuing her work, "I already made peace with flying into active warzones decades ago. The logistics and supply lines will be more limited, but the hazards are the same. The Work demands nothing less than courage in the face of adversity. The Omnissiah wills it."

Daisy nodded. "...yes, the Omnissiah wills it," she repeated. "That makes sense." She turned to Adler. "Why is it so easy for you, Adler?"

"Much the same, really," Adler said, making notes on his clipboard. "I have no religious faith in the religion of Mars, of course. But I cannot abandon the job. It's a matter of professionalism."

"That can't be the only reason," Daisy said, fidgeting with the zipper on her navy blue jumpsuit. "Don't you fear you'll die?"

"Do you?" Adler asked, eyes glancing up for a second.

"Theoretically, yes," Daisy said. She fidgeted harder, the room filling with the sound of the zipper sliding up and down. "In truth, it really hasn't hit me. I know I should care more for my own life. I don't really want to die. But...it just doesn't seem real, you know?" She frowned. "I think I'm dissociating."

"In some situations, dissociating from the danger is advantageous," Adler said, flipping a page. "For myself, I can admit to more than a little..." He permitted himself a fractional smile. "...excitement? Is that the word for it?"

"Why?" Daisy asked.

"Perhaps it's because I relish the challenge," Adler said, tapping the blunt end of his pen against his cheek, thoughtfully. "Ever since we completed the Nomarch's refit, I've found the largely static work of managing it to be...dull. There's no shortage of tasks, to be sure, but very little surprises. Our ship has been whipped into a well-ordered machine. Good on its face, but...unsatisfying." He made a notation on the page. "Stressful though it will no doubt be, a warzone will at least be...stimulating."

Diodana held up a machine. "Moreover, if I may interject," she said, "there's is something to be said of the value of institutional continuity. Just as the Nomarch's systems will function better with experienced hands effecting maintenance, so to will its administration benefit from an experienced mind."

"Quite so, madam tech priest," Adler said, nodding. "If I were to stay behind, Elster would invariably need to divert time and resources to building a new Adler. The contributions of such a model have become indispensable."

"That's true," Daisy said, crossing her arms. "I can't imagine not having an Adler around. It's all become so big, this operation. I wouldn't want Elster to have to wrangle us all again. Especially if some replikas are going to be leaving."

"As such," Adler said, flipping through pages, "it is simply illogical to replace an experienced Adler with an inexperienced one. We need all the help we can get, for the campaign ahead."

Daisy nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense," she said. She stretched. "I think I might stay on, for that reason. Poppy is basically as instructed as I am, so Diodana's teachings won't be lost if I die. And we need as many knowledgeable hands as possible."

Diodana paused from her work, this time in earnest. She looked over. "I will not blame you, Daisy, if you elect to leave."

"No, it's important," Daisy said, nodding. "I know the risks. And I think it'll be riskier, for you and Elster, if I'm not there too."

"...very well," Diodana said, nodding. She returned to her work. "Let it never be said we are not committed fools. Omnissiah protect us all."

Adler tapped his pen against the clipboard, thinking. "...there is another reason," he said. "For me staying, I mean. A personal one."

"Hmm?" Daisy said, looking over. "What's that?"

"Falke."

Adler lowered his clipboard. "Ever since Elster showed me the file photo for the standard FLKR unit, I have been..." The word "smitten" bubbled up in his mind, but he quashed it. It was...unprofessional. "...unable...to get it...get her out of my mind."

"Why do you think that is?" Daisy said, stroking her chin.

"Something having to do with my gestalt, I suspect," Adler said, closing his eyes. "I often wonder who she, and I, were in that other life, that I obsess so." He opened his eyes again, staring. "Whatever the case, there can be no doubt. Elster, and this ship, represent the best chance we have for creating a new Falke."

"Has LSTR-512 not provided the other enclaves with the FLKR neural pattern?" Diodana said, hefting a wrench.

"If they haven't, I will insist they receive it," Adler said, "when next I speak with Elster. This kind of redundancy is paramount. Nevertheless, the Nomarch has the most well-stocked machine shop, and access to the most experienced in implanting neural patterns. At least, barring bioresonant adepts who may have survived the invasion in hiding." He tapped his chin with the pen. "Moreover, the war will provide us ample opportunity to pillage resources."

Despite himself, a smile crept to Adler's lips. "Who knows? Perhaps we could build a Falke very soon. Provided our bioresonant units are up to the task..."

 

You two aren't going, and that's final.

A crystal-clear vault of stars spanned far above their heads. Every so often, the bright stillness was disrupted by a shooting star streaking across the sky.

The three Kolibri sat in a circle atop a grand tower that jutted from a perfectly still sea. The water's surface, mirror-like, reproduced the vault of heaven perfectly. So it seemed like the three were sandwiched between an infinity of twinkling lights.

Isis and Shahrazad balked.

That's not your decision to make! Isis thought, scowling. Her hands were pressed on her knees as she sat cross-legged.

Yes it is! Circe thought, hugging herself, hovering slightly above the floor. I'm your mother, and what I say goes! You are staying behind in Eusan, where it's safe!

Y-yeah, and Elster is YOUR m-mom, Shahrazad thought, hiding behind a plush pillow held to her chest. She said it was everyone's individual decision!

That's not...she can't... Circe scowled.

If the two came to Elster and said they would go, would Elster go along with it? Would Elster side with Circe? Could Circe convince her to overrule their decision?

The eldest Kolibri's face went red. You c-can't just go over my head like that!

Yeah we can! Isis thought. We can't just leave you alone! You NEED us!

Y-yeah! thought Shahrazad. You need all the help you can get, if you're flying to war!

Have you even thought for one second how dangerous that is? thought Circe, barring her teeth. War isn't some game! You could really be killed!

So could you! Shahrazad thought. You could die and leave us all alone! That's why you need us!

I don't need... Circe killed the thought as it began, frowning. She, and they, knew for a fact that wasn't true. Kolibri always worked better as a group. A single point wasn't nearly as strong as a circle. The bigger the circle, the better. Circe sighed. ...you're both too green to be flying into a warzone.

There's no way around that, mom, Isis thought, leaning forward. You need other Kolibri out there. Where else are you going to get them? Make new ones? They'll be even more green than we are! Getting them up to speed will be even harder, because you'll be navigating the Nomarch across the galaxy, while people are shooting at you!

Circe chewed her lip. She held the words "you got me there" back with all her might, even from thought.

Mom...we're the best option you have... thought Shahrazad, pouting. She pressed her chin into the pillow. You know that.

Circe sniffed, fighting back the moistening of her eyes. I just...I don't want to lose you. You're my babies. How can I let you march with me into war?

You can't protect us forever, mom, Isis thought. She reached a hand out and stroked Circe's cheek. And if YOU die, someone else needs to be able to navigate the ship. We're the closest to ready as you can get. Face it, mom. We're going.

She's right, mom, thought Shahrazad, reaching out to pat Circe's knee. Plus, you need us for your mental health.

How...can my mental health...stand the thought of losing you two... Circe couldn't stop the tears anymore. They ran down her cheeks. She sobbed. It's not fair!

"Hey, hey. Shh. Don't cry."

Circe felt one arm squeeze tight around her. And a hand wipe a tear from her cheek. The hand then clapped itself onto her head, stroking softly.

The elder Kolibri's eyes opened.

Gone was the mindscape the Kolibri used to communicate. Instead, the four replikas sat in the Nomarch's focusing room. A rounded chamber, with padded baffles affixed to the walls, built inside a normal room. The spherical walls acting as a bulwark against psychic interference, to better meditate and see into the Warp. The floor of the chamber was lined with pillows.

Circe looked up.

Hippolyta smiled down at her. "Hey cutie," she said, petting the replika that sat in her lap. "What's the matter? Your girls giving you shit?"

Isis's eyes opened. "Hey!" she cried, startling Shahrazad out of her own confused reverie. "We're trying to get mom to stop acting like an idiot!"

Shahrazad nodded. "We don't want her to be alone."

"...girls..." Circe groaned, sniffing. "Please..."

Hippolyta snorted. "As if!" she cackled. "She won't be alone! She'll have me!"

Circe pouted, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Shut up, Hip," she mumbled. "You're making me look weak in front of them."

The Storch's smile dropped. "Come on, babe," she said, stroking her lover's cheek. "You're not weak. You're strong as hell." She nodded to the other Kolibri. "So are they."

"But...I'm such a mess..." Circe mumbled, rubbing her nose. Renewed tears formed on her eyes. "How can I be strong if I can't even make these two see sense?"

The other Kolibris frowned.

Hippolyta sighed. "You're plenty strong, babe." She pinched Circe's cheek.

"Ah!" Circe cried. "Hey!" Her eyes screwed shut. She rubbed her aching cheek.

"But MAN are you dumb!" Hippolyta made a fist and (gingerly) ground it into Circe's scalp. "You can't make your kids do whatever you want, if they don't want to."

"Ow, ow, ow!" Circe cried, trying feebly to fend the Storch's bullying off. "Quit it!"

The hand stopped, then pat itself on the Kolibri's head gently. Circe looked up again.

"That's just not how being a parent is," Hippolyta said, her expression softening. "If you try to force something, it just makes your kids resent you, and resist even harder." She smiled. "If they want to go, that's the end of the discussion. Even if you convince Elster to forcibly kick them off, they'll find some way to get back on. It's what I'd do, just to spite you."

Circe frowned, and started to cry. "It's not fair..." she sobbed.

"Shh...shh...I know..." the Storch said. She hugged her lover tight. "But there's nothing to be done about it. So you might as well get used to it."

Isis and Shahrazad, previously defiant, started to look on the verge of tears as well. They crawled over and hugged Circe.

"We're sorry, mom," Shahrazad said, pressing her cheek into Circe's. "We love you."

"Mmhmm!" Isis said, pressing her forehead to Circe's. "We just want what's best for you."

Circe sobbed, shutting her eyes. "I...do too..." She sniffed, swaddled in a cocoon of hugging bodies. "I love you all!"

They stayed this way for minutes, before Circe's crying subsided.

When her daughters separated from her, Circe looked up. She sniffed. "...am I t-to assume you're going as well?"

"As if there was any doubt," Hippolyta said, giving a cocky smile. "I told you guys before: I'm down for Elster's crusade. But more importantly, you've not expressed any hint of wanting to stay behind."

"I can't do that," Circe said, wiping moisture from her face. "I need to navigate the ship. Isis and Shahrazad don't know how yet."

"That settles that, then," Hippolyta said. "You're going. And if you're going, I'm going. You're stuck we me."

Circe giggled. "I guess that's true. I couldn't get rid of you, even if I wanted to." Her hand slid over, lacing her fingers with Hippolyta's own.

Hippolyta leaned down and kissed the Kolibri's head.

 

Knock, knock.

Elster sighed, reclining in her cushioned desk chair. "...come in."

The door slid open. Not one, not two, but several people filed in. In the back, not even bothering to squeeze through, a power-armored replika peeked through the opening.

The rest sat on either side of the doorway, positioning themselves in descending order of height in relation to the desk. Hippolyta and Dash in the back. Vanessa, Daisy, Diodana, and Adler after that. Then, the three Kolibri in front, closest to the desk.

Elster steepled her fingers sadly. "...we could have called a meeting for this."

"We don't need a meeting, mom," Vanessa said. "This won't take long."

"...fair enough," Elster said, resting her eyes. "...so...who has made their decision?"

"All of us," Dash said.

"And we all came to the same answer," Hippolyta said, pressing a fist against her chest. "Fuck no, we're not backing down."

Circe held the hands of her circle. She nodded, staring at Elster. "Elster...we're going with you." Her junior Kolibri nodded in assent.

Elster blinked. She looked around. "Is that really everyone's decision?" She sat up. "Are you sure? There's no judgment or bad feelings, if anyone wants to back out."

"We're sure, Elster," Daisy said, nodding.

"Affirmative," Diodana said, She folded her arms. "I need not restate my commitment to protecting the Nomarch, to the bitter end."

"You have me, Elster," Jenny said, smiling maternally. "If you want me."

Adler nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "It would be an honor to serve with you, commander."

"Tch."

Elster rose to her hooves, scowling. "You fools. Do you understand what you're saying?"

"Yes," Vanessa said, maintaining eye contact. "We understand."

Elster slammed a fist down on the desk, causing it to rattle. Writing utensils jumped, rolling on the surface. The group before her flinched.

"Don't tell me you understand!" Elster yelled, glaring. "Don't tell me you understand what war means! You don't!"

The room was quiet.

The assembled crowd, initially shaken, maintained their resolve. Staring impassively.

Elster's fierce expression faltered. "...what...do I have to do to make you understand...?" Her voice wavered. "Why...why are you doing this...?"

"Because you need us, ma'am," Dash said, folding her arms.

"And we need you," Daisy said, pressing a hand to her chest. "None of us would be here without you. Let us return that kindness."

"It's not...kindness..." Elster sobbed, looking down at the desk. She clenched her teeth. "It's selfishness!" She looked at the crowd, face contorted in sorrow. "I can't ask any of you to risk your lives, on my selfish crusade! It's MY debt, not yours! Ariane is MY responsibility!"

"And what of your responsibility, to them?" Diodana said, waving to the assembled replikas. "They are your progeny. Your children. You have a duty to them."

"That's why I want them to stay behind!" Elster yelled, beckoning with a trembling hand. "I can't protect them out there! The war will eat them all up! I..."

She sobbed. "I don't...want to lose any of you..." Tears formed on her face. Drops slid down her cheek and plopped down on the papers below.

Circe stepped forward and extended both hands. She cupped her mother's face.

Elster flinched, looking wide-eyed.

"Elster..." Circe said, staring into Elster's eyes. "...mom...you can't protect us. You can't be totally sure you're doing the right thing. You can't even be sure Vashtorr didn't lie about Eusan, or that he's not wrong. There is nowhere we can be truly safe." She smiled. "You need to let us help you."

Vanessa walked forward, standing before the desk. She took Elster's hand. "The only way WE can make sure YOU are safe, is if we go with you."

Elster shook her head. "No, no...you don't understand. You don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine." Her face contorted in anguish. "It's you all I worry about."

"No offense, Elster," said Hippolyta, looking down from her high perch, "but I know full well you won't be okay if you go to war. You've got those deep scars, remember?"

"That's right," Circe said, nodding. "You need someone who can help ground you, when the old terrors inside manifest."

"E-everybody n-needs help, sometimes," Daisy said, looking over Vanessa. "Everyone on this ship does. We all have problems, and accommodations that need to be made to let us live. That includes you, Elster. You need someone to help you."

"Someone to lighten your load," Jenny said, from beyond the door.

"Someone to watch your back," Dash said, flashing a thumb's up.

"Someone to tell you when you're being stubborn and foolish," Diodana said.

"Someone to keep you on task," Adler said, stepping forward. "And do what needs doing, so you can focus on other matters."

"Someone who understands, even fractionally, what you're going through." Circe smiled again, stroking Elster's cheek. "Face it, mom. We're going."

Elster sobbed. She stood up, looking around at the room. Meeting each person's eyes, one by one.

She walked around the desk. Tears poured down her face.

"You idiots!" she sobbed. Elster sank to her knees and embrace Circe.

As her many children surrounded and embraced her, Elster cried. She cried until there were no more tears left unshed.

Chapter 27: The Unbearable Anguish of Change

"Achtung. Achtung. May I have everyone's attention?"

The crowd of replikas assembled in the mess hall, engaged in furious chatter, fell silent. All eyes rose to their progenitor.

Elster cleared her throat audibly. Her hand clutched the microphone taken from the lounge's karaoke machine. She felt a phantom clamminess in her hand.

"Ahem...guten morgen, everyone," Elster said, swallowing. "As you know, I'm not good at presenting to large crowds. So, let me get to the point." She stood taller, putting on as professional a demeanor as possible. "I'd like to discuss a few rumors going around...and our plans for the future."

The crowd looked around anxiously. A few scattered whispers filtered through, as replikas nervously speculated about which of the myriad rumors they would possibly be in trouble for.

Elster sighed. It had to be addressed at some point. There wouldn't be a better opportunity. She held up a hand for silence.

"As you know, since getting the Warp drive working, we've been alternating between mercenary work, and visits to the various worlds in the Eusan system." Elster coughed. "While it's fairly obvious why we've been visiting and providing for replikas on the ground, I've heard lots of questions and speculations about our mercenary jobs. It is true that this work has granted us income, that goes towards the maintenance of the Nomarch. We couldn't loot the Joys of Duty forever, regardless how easy it would make things. But there's another important reason.

"I can confirm that, yes, we - or rather I - have an...employer, of sorts." Elster allowed the whispers to play out for a moment, before raising her hand again. "Some members of senior staff have been briefed as to the arrangement I have with this party. I can't disclose this to everyone at this time, for complicated reasons."

"Complicated" was perhaps the wrong word for it. The nature of their relationship was rather simple. It was just so heinous, Elster dared not advertise, even to most of her children.

"Suffice to say," Elster continued, "I owe a great deal of debt to this party. A debt that must be paid, in loot..." A lie. "...and favors." Basically true. "As to why I'm adamant about paying this debt...my employer holds someone very important to me as collateral. A gestalt woman, and the love of life."

A gasp rose from the crowd amid the furious whispering.

"Yes, Myrtle," Elster said, unable to stifle a smile, "the White Mother exists."

Elster paused, watching the Ara with the spiral-pattern goggles stim gleefully.

"Her name is Ariane Yeong." She gripped the microphone hard. "And I would do anything to get her back."

Another pause, so the crowd could practically vibrate with excitement. It was like throwing meat to dogs. She let it go on for a space, before clearing her throat and raising her hand again.

"Achtung, yes. I'm still speaking," Elster said, nodding. "Perhaps now you can understand why, despite everything, I am eager to...please...my esteemed employer." She inhaled. Exhaled. "It is for this reason I cannot pass up the opportunities that lay before us. Though they carry with them a great deal of risk. To myself, to this ship...and to you."

The crowd went silent.

Elster looked over her shoulder, back at the senior staff sitting at the table behind her.

Dash and Circe nodded.

Elster sighed. "It is with heavy heart I must also confirm another rumor going around, since yesterday. Yes, it's true." She narrowed her eyes gravely. "The Imperium is about to descend into total civil war."

More noise from the crowd. This time gasps, invectives, and the nervous squeaking of seats. Aras began fidgeting with whatever they had to hand. Zippers, tools, locks of hair, finger and hand biting.

"I know, I know," Elster said, gesturing for silence. "I don't like it either. Information delivered to me by my employer says it's between the Emperor's loyalists, and those loyal to his Warmaster, Horus." She looked away. "This, obviously, means little to any of you. We've largely absented ourselves from the politics of our conquerors, by necessity. But we no longer have the luxury of staying completely out of the Imperium's internal matters. War makes everyone political.

"I have good news and bad news." Elster paced the mess hall floor. "The good news is, if my employer's intel is to be believed, the Eusan system will be largely spared the heavy fighting. Our little corner of the Imperium is too far from anything important to warrant being targeted in force. The industrial centers and warp corridors might change hands, but Eusan is expected to come out of this intact. Replikas currently on the ground, if they continue keeping their heads down, will probably be safe."

The mood in the room lightened, as tension released. Several replikas let out breaths they didn't even realize they were holding. Few were in the mood to mentally interrogate the strength of that "probably". They all wanted to believe the optimistic estimate.

"Yes, that's the good news," Elster said, nodding. She frowned, looking at the crowd. "The bad news is, my employer, who has both great reach and great ambitions, seeks to capitalize on the fighting to come. As such, I've been...'offered' many opportunities to discharge portions of my debt." She huffed. "...which will involve the Nomarch venturing out into the warzone. Probably for years at a time."

All noise in the room died. None dared move, nor mutter a sound.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Elster said, clutching the microphone close. "The Nomarch is going to war."

Trinity fainted. Her lovers, and other replikas nearby, shouted in concern.

Elster shut her eyes, as the proverbial dam broke. The room swelled with shouting, whispers, frantic pacing, and general alarm. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "...someone see to Trinity, if you wouldn't mind."

Vanessa ran from her place at the table behind Elster and organized aid for her sister.

Elster gave it a minute, letting Double Tap and Petunia and Vanessa work to carry Trinity to a table. She watched as water was fetched, and strong-smelling herbs brought in from the kitchen, that the Eule might be roused.

"Can we just...hello?" Elster said into the microphone, feeling her voice too feeble for the din. "Achtung, Achtung...can we just calm down?"

No one bothered whispering anymore. There were furious debates. Frantic conversations. Aras clutching hands over ears to block the noise, or huddled into fetal positions, or even trying to sneak off to the nearest vent. A few Stars, seeing Elster's attempts, tried to reestablish order, to little effect.

Elster frowned. She felt the buzzing in her mind start up, causing her to panic. But before she could even turn around to attend to Circe or the other Kolibris (no doubt overwhelmed), Hippolyta walked over and took the mic from Elster.

"QUIET!" Hippolyta yelled, her voice peaking the microphone speakers. "GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!"

The entire room froze. The noise died.

Hippolyta handed Elster the mic, then walked back to the table. The Storch squatted next to Isis and hugged her, joining with Circe in attempting to soothe their struggling junior Kolibris. "Shh, shh...come on," she muttered, patting Isis. "Calm the fuck down."

Elster looked back to the room. She coughed, lips contorting nervously. She inhaled. Exhaled. "...okay. We can't go panicking, everyone. Just...take a second." She let the room breathe, until the buzzing in her head faded away. "...I'm sorry for dumping this all on you suddenly. But we have so much to do, and so little time to do it. So, here's our working timeline. Adler?"

Adler stood and pulled out a poster. Mounted it on a tripod. It bore a rough sequence of events notched on a line, large enough the whole room could hopefully see. Under notches were labels and crude diagrams of planets. The far notch on the right depicted the Nomarch zooming into a portal.

"Thank you, Adler," Elster nodded. "For numerous reasons, not least to get ahead while the fighting hasn't begun in earnest, we only have one month before we need to translate out of system. During this, we will make all preparations we can. It's going to be a long journey, so we need to get as much done now as possible. That means everyone is on a 6-day work week until further notice." When the room erupted into groans, Elster plaintively held out a hand. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do about that. Adler will post your new schedules in the next couple days."

Elster pointed to the poster. "It will take two weeks to get to Kitezh. After a day dropping off materials to Doctor Liang's enclave, we take two days to reach Vineta. We'll be meeting with and giving materials to the enclaves there. Then, another week to get to Rotfront, to drop the last supplies to Poppy and her group, and load the holds with everthing we can acquire."

Elster brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked at the crowd. "This will be the last opportunity to depart, for anyone who doesn't want to go to war."

More nervous whispers and fidgeting. Some replikas in the crowd were relieved, at least with the idea they might not need to go. Just as many got sinking feelings, at the choice between going to war or leaving the ship.

"I know. It's not fair," Elster said, nodding, "asking you to choose between safety or the only home you've ever known. It's not fair at all. You shouldn't have to decide. If I could, I'd park us right here in Eusan, and ride out the war quietly. Let the Imperium tear itself apart." She sighed. "But war is never fair. Blame the belligerents, if you need to. Blame my employer, for holding Ariane hostage. Make no mistake, I do. Blame me, if you need to." Elster frowned. "This is how it's going to be. I'm sorry.

"You'll have until we leave Rotfront's orbit to decide for yourselves, what you want to do." Elster paced the floor, looking each of her replika children in the eye, one by one. "This is an individual matter. The senior staff have already made their decisions to stay on. But I don't want you to think you're obligated to do the same. I care about you all very much. Not only will I not judge you for disembarking, I would be happy to know you, at least, were safe." She smiled, as warmly as she could. "Don't worry about the vacancy let in your work. We'll have to make tons of new replikas anyway..."

At this, Elster couldn't help seeing it. The guilt flash in so many replika eyes. Most prominent in individuals who, just moments before, were relieved to hear there was a way out. Many teeth gnawed nervously on fingers. The unspoken implication gnawed at them as well. That if they departed, a new replika would take their place. A new replika, who didn't get to choose.

Elster couldn't change that fact. The practicalities demanded it. But it still stung. Both as a disservice to the replikas she would birth into the war, without their consent, and because her admission to it was unintentional emotional blackmail. "Sure, you can leave," it seemed to say, "but a newborn will have to take your place. Can you live with that?"

Not for the first time, Elster was tempted to call the whole thing off then and there. Spare them all. Wait for later, safer opportunities. But then she thought of Ariane, the souls on offer, and...

She chewed her lip. Inhaled. Exhaled.

Elster compartmentalized her compassion.

"...anyway..." Elster shook her head. "As I said, you have these few weeks to decide. Think about it long and hard, as we work. There won't be a lot of leisure time, but use what time you have. If there's a movie you wanted to watch. A record you wanted to listen to. A book from the library you wanted to read. Do it now. Talk to each other. Debate. Argue. Kiss and make up. If there's a confession you wanted to make, do it. If there's someone you wanted to...you know, with...ask them now. Don't feel pressured into anything, but...if you wanted to..." Elster blushed. "...now's the time." She sighed. "You may not see some of the people around you for a few years." She frowned. "...or...ever again."

Sad eyes looked around in the crowd. Some people just froze on the spot, shrinking into themselves. The reality of the situation was starting to set in.

"Again, I'm so sorry," Elster said, sadly. "Treasure the time you have. It's going to get harder going forward. Really think about what you're going to do. This is an important decision, and I want you to be really sure. Because once we leave, one way or another, that's the choice you'll need to live with. I can't guarantee we'll be able to sneak back partway through the war. And there will be no other safe ports of call capable of tending to a replika's long-term needs, once we leave Eusan. Nothing we don't set up for ourselves."

She stood up straight. "If you need someone to talk to, I'll be here. As will all your elder siblings. Diodana. Anyone, really. Just ask." Elster smiled. "No matter what, though, I want you to know that, whatever your decision, I'll be proud of you. And that I love you all very much."

 

"Myrtle, calm down!"

The Ara yanked her Ship Ships chart off the wall.

"It's all ruined!" Myrtle cried, looking down at the chart. Her lower lip quivered. "It's all going to be torn apart!"

"Baby, it's going to be fine," Sally said, holding out hands plaintively. "It's..."

Myrtle clenched her teeth and placed both hands roughly on the top of the posterboard. With one move, she tore the board in half. "Rragh!" she cried, throwing both pieces away.

"Myrtle!" Sally yelled, looking at years of careful work, discarded in an instant. "Stop!"

The Ara sank to the floor. Huffing and puffing. She glared at the piece of poster that landed right side up. Then, her head sank down. She started to sob.

"...sweetie?" Sally said, approaching cautiously. "Are you okay?"

Myrtle removed her safety goggles, with the blue spiral patterns drawn on, and looked at her girlfriend.

"Gheh...i-it's ruined Sally..." she sobbed, tears running down her face. "It's all ruined!"

Sally knelt down, taking the Ara's hands in her own. "We can fix it, baby. A little tape, and it'll be good as new."

Myrtle shook her head violently. "Don't understand...it's not the poster...it's...I don't..."

The Eule nodded, letting the Ara take her time.

Myrtle sobbed. "...it doesn't matter a-anymore...every...one is g-going to sc-scatt-er to the four w-winds..." Her chest heaved. "Couples will get broken up...no one will have time to date..." She bent over, grimacing in pain. "People will d-d-die! It's all ruined!"

Sally hugged the Ara, fighting back her own tears. "Myrtle, please...it's not..."

"It is and you know it, Sally!" Myrtle shouted, burying her head in the Eule's chest. "My chart is stupid! There's going to be a war, and I'm crying a-about a romance chart!" She clung to her lover desperately. "There won't be any love there! Only war! Only war!"

Hugging her girlfriend for dear life, Sally started to cry too. "B-bullshit!" she said, pressing her face in the top of Myrtle's head. "There's still us! I love you, Myrtle! Nothing is going to change that!"

Myrtle's hands clutched the back of Sally's jumpsuit. She heaved, then swallowed. "...I lo-ve you too, Sally..."

"Love doesn't go away," Sally said, nodding. She rubbed Myrtle's back. "No matter what we decide, we do it together. Okay?"

Myrtle nodded. "'kay..."

"...we can make a new chart, sweetie," Sally said, weaving her fingers through the Ara's hair. "Better than before. With all the new replikas that will be made. Because even in war, there's also love."

"..." Myrtle sniffed. "...yeah...we can do that..."

The Ara looked up, cheeks wet with tears. The Eule leaned down. They kissed.

 

Zap. Zap. Zap.

"Good shooting. Keep it up. Don't worry about missing. The power packs can be recharged. We won't run out of ammo any time soon."

Zap. Zap.

Dash walked down the aisle, looking sideways at each replika. Studying their form. Saw the uninitiated wince with each red flash from their las weapons. Directed energy bolts either scorching their targets, or else heating the insulated concrete barriers at the far end.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

"Relax your shoulders. That's right."

Double Tap stood behind Petunia, arms gently tucked under so she could guide the Ara's shots. Trinity stood behind them, trying to peek around or above her taller, broader lovers.

Zap.

"Good hit, Pet!" Double Tap cried, tussling the Ara's magenta hair. Trinity clapped.

Dash smiled, continuing her walk.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

EULR-N0611 scowled, her shot going wide. "Rragh!" she growled, throwing her hands up.

Dash stopped behind her. "Something wrong?"

The Eule whirled around. "Why do we even need to learn this?" she said, waving the laspistol around. "It's not like we're fight-"

Dash grabbed the laspistol and pointed it to the ceiling. "SAMANTHA!"

The Eule froze, heart skipping a beat. She squeaked, eyes going wide.

"Do not. Wave. Your gun. Around!" Dash barked, leaning in to look Samantha dead in the eyes. "This is a deadly weapon! You could have killed someone!"

Samantha looked fearfully between the Star and the laspistol in her hand. "I-I-I...I'm sorry!"

Dash huffed into her mask. She stood up straight, still holding the weapon by the barrel. She aimed it upward. "Never point your weapon at someone you don't intend to kill. Ever." she said, keeping her voice low. "Do you understand?"

The Eule nodded, sweat rolling down her cheek. "Y-yeah."

"When at rest, always point the weapon straight up or at the ground," Dash continued. She looked at the Eule's hand. "Same goes for trigger discipline. Your finger rests off the trigger, unless you're prepared to fire. Got that?"

"Yes!" Samantha said, standing up straight. She looked directly at the gun, then placed her finger behind the trigger. "I understand!"

Dash nodded, letting the weapon go. "Good. Now, turn around. You're going again. I'll help you this time."

Samantha turned around and entered firing position. She blushed as the Star stood behind her and touched her arms.

"And in answer to your question..." Dash said, helping her sight in. "...it won't be like it's been until now," she said, raising her voice, so everyone could hear. "When we could choose when, where, and who to fight. We'll be flying into war, where everyone will be gunning for anyone who even looks like an enemy. None of us can afford to be non-combatants." She pointed forward. "Try it now. Squeeze the trigger."

Samantha nodded, doing as she was told.

Zap.

She blinked at the red flash. When the spots left her eyes, she looked out. "I hit it."

"Good job," Dash said, patting her shoulder. "Keep practicing, and remember what I told you."

As the Star continued her walk, the Eule called back.

"But what if I don't want to go?" Samantha said, taking a second to point the laspistol up. "What if I'm getting off at Rotfront, or any of those other places?"

Dash sighed. "You'll still need to know how to fight, Samantha." She looked over her shoulder. "The Imperium in Eusan still guns for replikas. You never know if they'll come for you. I wouldn't be there to protect you. You have to be ready to defend yourself and everyone else you care about, no matter where you go."

Samantha pointed her weapon down, letting it hang limp at her side. She looked at the floor, frowning. "...I...understand..."

"Good." Dash nodded, then walked on. "Alright, break's over. We still have a full hour left, before the next group comes to practice. I want you emptying your power packs, people!"

The Eule blinked, watching the Star walk off. She blushed.

Dash was so...dashing, wasn't she?

 

There you are.

Rue flinched. Looked over her shoulder. Her sad eyes blinked, moist with tears that wouldn't quite come. She turned away.

Circe crawled down the vent, poking out into the utility tunnel. She made sure not to touch the red pipes, which radiated heat. Myrtle said you'd be here. Are you okay?

Go away! Rue thought, hugging her knees.

The Kolibri frowned. If that's what you want, I can go. Circe rubbed her arm. I just...thought you might want some company.

The Ara sighed, then nodded. Okay.

Circe crawled over and took a seat next to her. Tucking her own knees against her chest, looking at the same metal wall.

They sat silent, not forming coherent thoughts for a while.

...it's really warm in here, Circe thought.

Rue nodded.

Are you fine with it being this warm? Circe asked. Or...do you tolerate it, because it's your private place?

The Ara shrugged. I guess...

We could bring a tiny fan in. So your spot could be cooler.

Don't need to do that. I'm fine. Rue sighed. Too much fuss. Don't need to be a burden.

You're not a burden, Rue. Circe turned to look at the Ara. Your comfort matters as much as anyone's.

The Ara shrugged, thinking nothing.

The Kolibri stared at the wall. She chewed her lip. Have you thought at all about it? About whether you're staying or going?

All the time. Rue rocked back and forth. I can't stop thinking about it. Can't sleep.

I'm sorry.

At the same time, it doesn't feel real at all.

Circe looked sidelong at her daughter. So, which way are you leaning?

The Kolibri felt the tightness form in Rue's throat.

I don't want to go, Rue thought. This is my home. It's good here. Familiar. Safe. I know everything here. The ship stays the same. The people too. She frowned, feeling the knot grow tighter. But it won't stay the same, will it? So many are going to leave, aren't they?

Probably, yeah, Circe nodded. Everything's going to change.

I wish it wouldn't! Tears formed under Rue's eyes. Her shoulders shuddered. I wish things would just stay the same! Is that too much to ask? Everything was good now! Not too much work. No one yelled. We could go where we wanted, and yet inside stayed the same.

Circe looked at the Ara. Rue...

Rue started to cry. Now everyone is going to leave! And everyone left will be stressed out! So they'll yell, all the time! And I... Her shoulders heaved, as she sobbed audibly. ...and all I can think about death! All the time! You, me, Myrtle, Elster...all I can think about is everyone dying!

Circe hugged Rue. Oh Rue! I'm so sorry! The Kolibri, despite herself, couldn't help but cry too. I'm sorry you've been going through all this!

The Ara hugged her mother back. She was bawling now. "Wuh rah meh beh!" she babbled, pressing her face in Circe's hair.

Circe sobbed. "Shh...shh..." she said, stroking Rue's broad back. Trying to console her, even as her own sorrow intermixed with the Ara's. "L-let it out!"

Deep in the bowels of the Nomarch, the two girls just held each other. Throats too tight for speech, minds too overwrought for thought. So they just clung together for comfort. Weeping. Hating the unfair world that refused to just stop.

 

"I could help you with that, you know. I don't mind."

Dash frowned, arms crossed. "I mind, Meryl," she said, shaking her head. "You know I don't...feel that way. It would be awkward."

"It doesn't have to mean anything, Dash." EULR-N0602 spooned another lump of corn into the plate. "I'm your friend. Nothing will change between us. Besides..." Meryl smiled, her dyed blue hair visible beneath her hair net. "...you know I'm always down for a good time."

"It's because you're my friend that makes it awkward," Dash said, shaking her head again. "Plus, I couldn't do that to Kite."

"Kite has nothing to do with it," Meryl said, wagging her spoon at the Star. "Both of us know we're not exclusive, because we're not an item. We just fool around together, like we both do with everyone else. Trust me, Kite wouldn't mind if we..."

"I don't. Feel. Comfortable. Doing that," Dash insisted, shutting her eyes. "I'm sorry, Meryl. That's just how it is."

The Eule sighed. "Okay, Dash. I'm sorry. I'll respect you wishes. Just..." She smiled. "It's an open offer. I have no intention of getting off. The ship, that is. I'll still be here, if you change your mind." She raised the plate and set it on the counter connecting the kitchen to the mess hall. "Here's lunch."

"Thanks Meryl," Dash said, smiling. She loaded the plate of food on her blue plastic tray. "Also, have you seen Vanessa?"

"Yeah, just now," Meryl said, pointing with the spoon. "She just sat down over there."

Dash looked over her shoulder, then nodded. "Thanks! See you later!"

Meryl waved, then shook her head when Dash walked away. "Dumbass. Just let me help you."

Dash walked over to where Vanessa sat among other, younger Eules. She hadn't obtained lunch yet, but seemed intent on chatting with the girls.

The Eule with the long, straw-colored hair looked up when Dash arrived. "Oh, hey Dash," Vanessa said.

"Hey Van," Dash said, holding her tray.

"H-hey Dash!" Samantha said, fidgeting with her fork. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, hey Samantha," Dash said, surprised. "I'm fine." She turned back to Vanessa. "Hey Van. Mind if we talk?" She looked at the Eules sitting at the table. "...alone?"

Vanessa blinked, then looked at the assembled Eules. She smiled. "Sorry, will you excuse us, girls? We'll be right back." She pointed to the table. "You can leave your tray here if you want, Dash. If it'll only be a minute."

"Sure," Dash said, nodding.

Samantha narrowed her eyes, as the two elder replikas walked off.

 

"So what's up?"

The two stood in an unoccupied corner of the ship, a connecting path between two parallel corridors. Thick cables ran halfway down its length, bolted to the walls, before vanishing inside a nearby vent.

Dash scratched the back of her head. "Van, you and Begonia used to be an item, yeah?"

Vanessa blinked. "...yeah, we were. That ended years ago, though. Why?"

"It's not a sore spot, is it?"

Vanessa shook her head. "No, we broke it off amicably. Or we made up after that, so it's amicable now." She sighed. "It was my fault, really. I...didn't give her the space she needed. She's an Ara, I was...well, it was my first relationship. I didn't...get it yet." She sighed. "Sorry, I'm dumping all this old laundry on you."

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Dash said, nodding. "We can stop talking about it if..."

"No, it's fine," Vanessa said. "It's in the past." She smiled. "What's this about?"

Dash frowned, looking away. "I...figured I should ask you, since you used to be together. I don't want to ruin our friendship..."

"Ask me what?" Vanessa said, cocking her head to one side.

"I...want to make a move on Begonia," Dash admitted, rubbing her arm. Her eyes were down at the floor now. "And I didn't want to cross a line."

"Oh." Vanessa's expression was neutral. "Well, I'm fine with it. Like I said, we're not together anymore. She's a free woman. Go for it."

"Really?" Dash said, looking up. "O-okay, thanks."

"I mean, is this for going steady?" Vanessa asked, raising a hand to gesture nebulously. "Are you going for a one night stand?"

Dash looked around nervously, then leaned in. She whispered in the Eule's ear.

Vanessa's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously?"

Dash nodded, blushing.

"After all this time?" Vanessa tilted her head to the side. "Not ever?"

Dash looked down, blushing harder. "I've...been busy..." She frowned. "I figured, since we're going to war...I should finally get it out of the way."

"Weird." Vanessa cocked an eyebrow. "I figured you and Meryl..."

"We're friends, Van," Dash said. "Practically sisters. It would be like asking you."

"I guess..." Vanessa shrugged. "Well, you have my blessing, for what it's worth. Go ask Begonia, if you're dead set on it." She frowned. "Just don't break her heart, Dash. If you just want to do it once, be up front about it. Don't string her along."

"I won't, Van," Dash said, nodding. "I promise." She looked at her hand, deep in thought. "...what...should I say?"

"Well, she's an Ara," Vanessa said, folding her arms in front of her. "Don't be coy. Don't try to beat around the bush. Just be direct. Tell her, in plain Eusan, what you want. It'll be easier that way. She'll understand, if you just explain what you want and why."

Dash nodded. "I can do that."

"We reach Kitezh tomorrow," Vanessa said. "I think Begonia is heading down with them, to scope the place out. See if it's where she wants to settle. You can ask her then, if you want."

Dash smiled. "Right. I'll do that. Thanks Van."

"No problem." Vanessa smiled.

Peeking around the corner, Samantha chewed her lip.

She knew she had to be on that shuttle.

Chapter 28: Red Sands, Desert Blues

"...mrr...too bright..."

Begonia held her arm over her eyes. The Ara, already prone to squint or walk around with eyes closed at the best of times, scowled. She had to bring her arm back down to support the heavy box in her arms.

Samantha, carrying another box, stopped beside her. "Having trouble, Beeg?" she said, frowning.

Begonia shook her head. "Just too bright."

"Need some help?"

The two looked over their shoulder (although Begonia could only helplessly squint backwards). Dash walked down the metal ramp from the shuttle.

"If it's not too much trouble," Begonia said, turning. "Can you hold this for a second?"

"S-sure," Dash said, accepting the package handed to her blindly. She looked out at the arid red landscape. "Man, when they said Kitezh was a desert, they weren't kidding, huh?"

"There are more grassy steppe-lands in the north and south." Begonia, hands free, pulled up a set of dark goggles from where they hang loose around her neck. The straps hugged her straw-colored hair. The tinted lenses covered her eyes. She permitted herself a small smile. "Much better. Thank you, Dash."

Dash gulped. "N-no problem, Beeg."

Begonia accepted the box back, then took a real look at the landscape. Red, rocky hills and scattered dunes, as far as the eye could see. She felt the hot wind in her hair.

"...I don't think I want to live here," she concluded, face neutral as always. Which, as an Ara, said nothing about her mood.

"Maybe you'll like Vineta better," Samantha said, giving a cautious smile. She started walking. "And if not, there's always Rotfront. Then you'd be with Poppy et al." She started walking towards the wind-swept compound in front of them.

"Maybe..." Begonia said. She started walking too.

"H-hey! Wait up!" Dash quickly grabbed a couple duffle bags from the shuttle and ran after Begonia. The Star had to struggle, her hooves sinking deep in sand with each step.

 

The compound was built in the shadow of a rocky outcropping. A large metal overhand sheltered several desert vehicles, like all-terrain cars or trucks. Mounds of sand, blown in by the wind, collected beneath the overhang as well. Luckily, the doorways were at least cleared (likely manually, at great effort). Areas beneath the overhand that hadn't collapsed provided respite from the harsh sunlight.

A mixture of Nomarch replikas and Kitezh natives (replika and gestalt) milled about, hauling inside crates and bags piled under the overhang. All wore a layer of desert clothing, like headscarves, cloaks, and robes. Enough to keep out the sun and sand, but still breathable enough to keep them cool. The natives, naturally, wore them better.

Most clothing trended towards dull reds, to better blend with the landscape. But scattered about, usually beneath other layers, were flashes of color and woven pattern. Even in the desert, aesthetics won out. No matter where, humans will be humans.

Off to one side, Elster conversed with Rebecca Liang, the latter smoking and periodically directing helpers moving containers. The gestalt would rub her back and neck every so often, wincing in pain. Despite her best efforts, gray was visible at the roots of her scalp. Hair dye was difficult to procure, this far out in the wastes.

"I think this was the last of it," Samantha said, placing her box on a stack. She pulled her hood back and wiped her brow.

Begonia and Dash added their items to the pile as well. Thirsty, Begonia unsealed her canteen and took a swig.

Dash looked nervously around, taking a sip of water from her own canteen. "H-hey, Beeg?" she said, looking at the Ara.

"Hmm?" Begonia said, looking over.

"Do you...mind if we talked for a bit?" Dash said. She scratched the back of her head. "In private?"

"Uh...okay?"

Samantha, already gulping water from her supply, looked surprised as the two walked off towards one of the large concrete support pillars that held up the shelter. The Eule stared at Dash, nervously.

 

The two passed a pair of native replikas, conversing next to the wall of the compound, before taking refuge behind the pillar.

"What did you want to talk about?" Begonia asked, tilting her head sideways.

The Star removed her solid face mask. Dash's mouth screwed up, as she paced back and forth. Her hooves kicked up little clouds of scarlet dust as they trudged over the buried concrete foundation. "I just...how do I say this?"

Vanessa's words echoed in her mind. She's an Ara. Be direct. Tell her what you want.

There, in the shade of compound, amid a sea of red sand, Dash sighed. She looked into Begonia's eyes. (Or her dark lenses). "Begonia...I...I'm a virgin."

Begonia looked taken aback. "Oh? Okay. And?"

"And...I want to change that." Dash blushed furiously, looking away. "I've never had a chance to...be with anyone. I'm Star captain, so I've always needed to prioritize work. Keeping everything in shape. So...I've not...yeah."

Begonia nodded. "That's fine. No one will judge you for it. Plenty of Aras haven't either, to my knowledge."

"The other Stars might judge me," Dash muttered, rubbing her arm. "They don't know. I've been...lying about my experience for a while. I got Meryl to lie a while ago and say we've slept together, since she's been with tons of replikas and isn't ashamed about it."

"Why not actually sleep with Meryl, then?" Begonia said, tilting her head. "I'm sure she'd be okay with it."

"She offered, yeah," Dash said, scratching her cheek. She still didn't look at Begonia. "But I don't know..." The Star shook her head. "Meryl's still too much like a sister to me. A friend. It would be...awkward..."

"Hmm..." Begonia said, nodding. "I suppose..."

Dash, blushing again, scratched the back of her head. She looked at the Ara. "So I was wondering...would you mind terribly...I mean, if you wanted?" When Begonia seemed confused, Dash quickly added, "To sleep with me, that is. Do you want to have sex?"

Begonia stroked her chin. "Uh..." She looked Dash up and down. "That's...I don't know..."

"It's fine! I understand!" Dash said, lowering her head. She waved casually and started walking back. "Forget I said anything."

"It's n-not that I'm against the idea," Begonia said, reaching a hand out as Dash walked by. When the Star looked back over, the Ara said, "You're very pretty. I think you could get a lot of girls. Maybe even me, if there was time." She forced a small smile.

The Ara looked out into the desert. "I just...I've only slept with a few people over the years. I definitely don't do casual sex, like some of the others. When I'm with someone, I tend to...get attached. At least for a while. I want to spend a lot of time with them...until I need my space, of course. That's...why Vanessa and I didn't work out. I started needing my space and...well, we were both young. Vanessa was used to me being clingy, so she thought that was..."

Dash watched the Ara, frowning. "Normal?"

"It's hard to explain," Begonia said. She shook her head. "Anyway...I don't even know yet whether I want to stay with the Nomarch, or settle in one of the replika enclaves. I just don't know." She sighed, looked back at Dash. "So...I don't...want to get in bed with someone, if it means getting attached. Because then it'll be hard to leave if I really want to. You're staying on through the war, yeah?"

"Y-yeah..." Dash said, nodding. "That's why I'm so eager to...lose my virginity. I want to do it at least once, before I potentially..." She frowned, crossing her arms. "But yeah, I get it."

"It's not that I'm against the idea," Begonia said, forcing a smile. "I just...can't...right now. I need to sort out my life path first."

"Right, right," Dash said, shutting her eyes. She exhaled hard from her nose.

Begonia walked past, then stopped. She patted Dash's shoulder. "If I decide to stay, maybe we can have this conversation again?"

"Sure," Dash said, looking at her. She smiled sadly. "Sorry for bothering you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you," Begonia said, nodding apologetically. "Maybe you should ask someone else?"

"I'm just...awkward, is all," Dash said, blushing. "It's embarrassing. And so many others in my...'age group' already have relationships...or it would be awkward..."

"Good luck, Dash," Begonia said, smiling. She walked away, leaving the Star behind.

Dash waited until the Ara retreated behind her, then kicked the sand. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "Idiot!"

As she walked back, she passed those native replikas from earlier.

"Strike out, huh?"

Dash stopped, looking over her shoulder. "What's it to you?" she said, frowning. When she saw the speaker, her eyes opened wider.

The tall replika lowered her hood, showing her face. Worn by weather and bearing tiny scars. Her mouth was obscured behind a mask, whose chipped paint was reinforced by a more recent painting of tally marks. She had a mop of black hair, and faded red markings around her eyes.

"A STAR unit?" Dash asked. "I didn't think there'd be any on Kitezh. This was Empire territory."

"It was contested territory," the Star said, her voice deep and husky. "Empire and Nation were at war for years, even here." She looked Dash up and down. "Although I suppose I can forgive you for not knowing. You're one of that LSTR unit's new replikas, yeah?"

"Yeah," Dash said, nodding. "You're from before."

The Star chuckled. Dash could hear the smile behind her mask. "It's odd, meeting a replika who is more surprised to see a pre-Invasion unit, than a post-Invasion one. Your company really HAVE spent all your time riding around together in space, eh?"

Dash blushed, suddenly extremely aware of how sheltered she was. "I've...I've been to other planets..." She rubbed her arm. "We've even been to other star systems. It's not like I'm green or anything..."

"I didn't say that," the Star said, waving a hand. She looked at her companion. "But you gotta admit, she sure looks new, huh Farah?"

Dash's eyes turned to the other replika, as she drew her own hood back. Dash's eyes went wide.

"I think she's cute," said the Empire replika. Her skin was more brown than any Dash had ever seen. Her nose sharp, her eyes framed by dark eyeshadow. Her hair was tied back in a bandana of colorful pattern. "It's a rare treat, to see such a young specimen." She stroked her own cheek, smiling. "Although, thanks to your group..." She gestured to the piles of containers stacked around the compound door. "...we'll be seeing more, I suspect."

"You're...an Empire model..." Dash said, face going flush. She frowned. "An enemy."

"Oh! You think I'm an enemy?" Farah said, giving an expression of mock hurt. "Me?"

"That's right," Dash said, standing her ground.

"But we've only just met!" Farah inched closer, slowly reaching out a hand to stroke Dash's cheek. "I'm sure if we got to know each other, we'd be fast friends." She smiled. "Something more, perhaps?"

Dash bristled, slapping the probing hand away. "Get away!"

"Ow!" Farah cried, overstating the pain. She whined to her Star companion. "My dear Angelica, your cousin wounds me!"

Angelica sighed. "Come on, kid. Knock it off. You're embarrassing our model."

Dash frowned. "S-she started it! Why are you taking her side! She's Empire!"

"Why do you even care?" Angelica asked, raising an eyebrow. "You weren't around during the war. You have no horse in that race."

Farah smiled, pointing. "And besides, little one...do you not have an Empire body of your own? What of your purity?" She giggled.

Dash looked down, then clutched her cloak around her tight. She blushed furiously. "..."

"Oh? Oh no!" Farah said, raising a hand to her cheek in mock horror. "Angelica, the little mouse is embarrassed."

"Stop teasing her, Farah," Angelica said, waving a hand at her companion. She kept eyes on Dash. "And you. What's your call sign?"

"D-Dash!" Dash stammered, tipping her beet-red face down. She was mortified, obscuring her (to her) shameful body with the dull red folds of fabric. "It's...it's Dash."

"Well, Dash, calm the fuck down," Angelica said, maternally. She crossed her arms. "The war is over. Both sides lost. The Empire and the Nation are no more. Making a big deal about patriotism or whatever is pointless. Don't waste your energy."

The younger Star looked at the ground, trembling. Her elder was right, of course, and Dash knew it. She kicked the dust at her hooves, wallowing in embarrassment. "S-s-sorry..."

"Oh! Look at her!" Farah cooed, clutching both her cheeks. She smiled. "You are forgiven, little mouse." She extended a hand. "It is nice to meet you, R. Dash Starling. I am R. Farah al-Naaji."

Dash looked down at the hand, then cautiously extended her own. Shaking it gingerly. "Ni's to meetchu..." she mumbled. She looked up. "You...have a gestalt name?"

"I suppose since you're new, you are unfamiliar," Farah said, tapping her cheek pensively. "Farah, of course, is the name I gave myself. The initial 'R.', of course, to denote a replika. al-Naaji is my model name."

"Your models are just...normel gestalt names?" Dash asked, narrowing her eyes quizzically.

"Just so," said Farah, nodding, "because they are the name of our gestalts." When Dash's eyes went wide, Farah smiled. "Unlike in the Nation, where gestalts are unpersoned upon being made a replika neural pattern, in the Empire we honor the ones who gave of their spirits to make replika possible." She pressed her fingers to her chest and puffed it out proudly. "My gestalt, Naaji, was both a veteran and an entertainer. The Empire rewarded both long service and devotion to the arts in the highest way: immortality. Of a sort, of course. In an empire of faith, such luminaries are akin to saints, their miracles seen in every replika bearing their likeness."

Dash blinked. "Oh..." She looked down, contemplating. "Must be nice, knowing who your gestalt is..." She frowned.

Angelica shrugged. "Eh...not everyone has such a storied origin. Personally, I've got too many memories from ours to really want to know more."

"That bad, huh?" Dash asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"If you live long enough, maybe you'll find out." Angelica tilted her head. "Back to what I asked earlier. No luck asking that ARAR out?"

Dash sighed. "Yeah," she said, rubbing her arm. "I'm just...hmph..."

"Want to talk about it?" Angelica asked. "I could act as an...older sister, I guess."

The junior Star blushed. "...don't go spreading this around, okay?"

Angelica nodded. "Farah," she said, looking to her companion.

"Very well," Farah said, miming the act of zipping her lips.

"I'm...not experienced..." Dash said, looking down at the ground. "In...bed..."

"I figured," Angelica nodded. When the younger Star bristled, she continued, "Newer units may take a while to reach that point. It was perfectly normal, back during the Nation's heyday."

"N-no, that's just it," Dash said. "I'm one of Elster's oldest. I've been around for years. And...well, sex really isn't a strange thing with us."

"Oh?" Angelica said, cocking an eyebrow. "Yes, I suppose it wouldn't be, if the Nation is gone. Your LSTR just...lets you guys have that freedom?"

Dash nodded. "It's honestly hard to go around on the ship, and not stumble on someone...nevermind." She rubbed her hands together nervously.

"Sounds wonderful," Farah said, giggling into her hand. "A starborne palace of delights. Where replikas are free to explore each other's bodies without censure or condemnation." She sighed, shutting her eyes.

"But not you, huh?" Angelica said.

Dash shook her head, looking away. "I'm the captain of the Stars, so I'm always too busy with everything. Never got a chance. And after a while, everyone my age got paired off. It's just...awkward, you know?"

"Can't say I really do," Angelica said, shrugging. "You lot are weird." She shook her head. "But I get the gist, I guess. Goodness knows, getting laid under the Nation wasn't easy either."

"We're going to be shipping off soon on a long military campaign," Dash said. "So...I wanted to...get it out of the way."

Angelica left the wall where she leaned, and stepped forward. "I think you should have sex because it'll be fun," she said. "It's the only reason TO do it, if you're a replika. You shouldn't feel like you're less of a woman if you haven't. Most Stars in my old unit talked a big game about getting with any replika that moved. But in truth, most never got a chance to have sex before they died in action or got decommissioned." She chuckled sadly. "Or they...got decommissioned because they got caught trying to have sex." She shook her head. "Tsk, tsk...poor 47."

"I'm sorry," Dash said, frowning.

"S'okay," Angelica shrugged. "Point is, don't have sex out of social obligation. Have it for yourself. And your partner, obviously."

Dash twiddled her thumbs. "Thanks. It's nice to hear that. Especially from an...uh..."

"You can say older, kid," Angelica said. "I don't mind."

Dash chuckled. "Yeah. Still..." She looked over at the elder Star. "I don't want to go to my death, without having done it. And...it's just so difficult, since I've avoided it this long." She looked down. "Feels like everyone is way ahead of the curve. It took all the courage I had to ask Begonia. And she said no, which...doesn't do a lot for my confidence."

Angelica tapped her face mask, pensively. She stepped forward, leaning in. "I mean, if it's just experience you want..."

Dash blushed as her elder entered her personal space.

"...I'm always down for a roll in the hay." The Star's voice somehow became deeper. More...sultry. Her eyes half-lidded. "If you want to. How about it?"

Dash stood at attention, flinching. "Wi-wi-with y-you?" she stammered, sweat pouring down her blushing face. "Wi-with another STAR?"

"Why not?" Angelica said, chuckling. Her hand rose, fingers gently threading between Dash's black hair. "We've both had many years to become different people."

The feeling of the elder's fingers in her hair made Dash shiver. "I-I-I..."

Angelica pulled away. "If you don't want to, I understand," Angelica said, averting her eyes. "I won't pressure you into something you don't..."

"I d-didn't say that!" Dash said, extending a hand. "I'm not against it! I just..." She looked to Angelica's companion. "Isn't sh-she your girlfriend? I wouldn't want to get in the way!"

Farah looked surprised, then laughed. "Oh, you're such a gentlewoman!"

Angelica shrugged. "That's an obvious dodge, kid. But we're not really...in a permanent relationship."

"O-oh..." Dash said, looking between them.

"She's right, you know," Farah said, draping an arm over Angelica's shoulders. "I mean yes, we've known each other carnally, from time to time..."

"We're more...friends with benefits," Angelica said, stroking the Empire replika's hand. "Nights on Kitezh get lonely, you know. Cold, too."

"And it's awfully fun," Farah said. She kissed the Star's hand. She looked over to Dash, then stalked forward.

Dash froze in place, as the replika's hand brushed her cheek. This time, she didn't smack it away.

"If you wanted, I could spend some time with you, little mouse." Farah put on her own sultry voice. She cupped Dash's chin.

The younger Star shivered with each touch. She continued to blush. "I...muh...I would...uh..." She smiled. "M-maybe..."

Angelica stood to Dash's other side, and leaned in close. "Or, if you'd prefer..." she said, eyes half-lidded. She whispered in Dash's ear. "...we could both show you the ropes. If you like. Does that sound good?"

Dash's face was beet red. She felt like steam was about to erupt from her ears. Even just the voice in her ear made her shiver.

"Mm-mm-mmm!" Dash hummed, legs feeling like jelly. "I...I..."

"How about it, dear?" Farah cooed, into Dash's other ear. "If it's experience you want..."

"...we've got that to spare," Angelica breathed.

When Dash, trembling, looked at her, the elder Star removed her face mask. Scars criss-crossed her lips, cheek, and chin. Far from making her unattractive, it just underscored how "experienced" she was. Not to mention badass.

The woman kissed Dash gently on the cheek.

Dash nearly fainted then and there.

 

"Hmm? A private room?"

Elster and Rebecca looked over at three replikas that had wandered over. Elster was slightly concerned the two natives were practically holding her eldest Star up between them.

"J-ju-just for a few minutes," Dash stammered, weak-kneed, sweating, and red-faced. Smiling nervously.

"Hours," Angelica said, arm-in-arm with Dash.

"H-hours?" Dash squeaked, looking up at the elder Star.

"Hours, dear," Farah said, patting Dash's shoulder affectionately. She clung to the young replika's other arm with both hands.

Rebecca shrugged, looking down at her clipboard. "There's a bed made up in storage room B3, if you need..." She looked them up and down, maintaining her resting serious face. "...to be alone."

Elster looked to Rebecca, then to Dash. "Dash, are you alright? Do you have heatstroke? If you do, you can get some water and ice from the shuttle."

"N-no! I'm fine!" Dash said, smiling and holding up her hands as well as she was able. "I just...want to spend time with these..." She whispered, blushing harder, "...p-pretty ladies..."

Elster's fingers stroked her chin pensively. Then, a gear turned in her head. Her eyes widened fractionally. "Oh." She looked between the three of them. "And...you've consented to this, Dash?"

Dash nodded furiously, her smile all crooked. Unable to properly convey the emotions bubbling up inside her, threatening to spill out. "Y-yes. Enthusiastically."

Elster blinked. Then, nodded. "Very well. Just so long as you're careful. We won't be heading back until tomorrow morning, so you'll have plenty of time." She smiled. "Go have fun, you three."

Dash nearly had to be dragged inside, she was so loopy.

Elster called back. "But for real, get her some water! I'm genuinely concerned about heat stroke!"

"We will!" called back Farah, holding up a canteen of water.

"We'll bring your girl back in one piece, ma'am," said Angelica, "don't you worry!"

Elster sighed. "I could have sworn Dash was more experienced," she muttered, stroking her chin. "Oh well, I guess she will be now. Assuming she lives."

She looked over her shoulder. "...Samantha?" Elster said. "What's wrong, honey?"

The Eule, standing behind her, trembled. Hands clasped and pressed to her chest.

Tears formed in her eyes. "V-verdammt!" she muttered, before running away towards the shuttle.

"Samantha! Wait!" Elster cried, extending a hand out. "Come back!"

The Eule just kept running, kicking up sand as she trudged. Tears running down her face.

 

"Ah...so nostalgic."

Diodana waddled back to the shuttle from the wastes, her mechanical feet leaving a trail in the red desert sand. She almost couldn't be spotted, swathed in her red robe.

She now fully understood why her fellow Martians elected to settle on Kitezh in droves, despite the bulk of industry occurring on Heimat and Rotfront. It had all the hallmarks of their ancient home's surface, but with the added benefit of a breathable atmosphere and minimal radiation. Not that any Mechanicum tech priest worth their lubricant would be caught dead without a rebreather in such a place. Old habits and all that.

It was such a pleasant stroll, she almost missed the sound of crying. Her four photo-receptors scanned the foot of the shuttle for the cause. "Hello? Is someone in distress?"

She found the source, huddled against the shuttle's landing gear. A EULR unit, curled up against the metal, legs tucked against her chest. Face buried in her arms, propped up on her knees. Her muffled sobs could still be heard, even through the cloak sleeves and the desert wind.

"There you are," Diodana said, trundling over. "Which unit were you, again? Why are you in distress?"

Samantha peeked her head out, teary eyes glancing at Diodana. She buried herself again. "...hic...go away..."

"Impossible," Diodana said, shaking her head. "You vent perfectly good moisture to the desert air. As such, I cannot permit you to go...unconsoled."

When the Eule stubbornly refused to stop cry, Diodana loosed an electronic sigh, then walked over. She grunted, using her mechadendrites to help lower herself to a sitting position against the same landing strut. She sighed, feeling the warm cushion of the red sand. "I really do need to replace this knee. Such a bother."

They sat in silence, Diodana letting the replika cry. The tech priest was, by now, very familiar with how readily the replikas of the Nomarch would devolve into weeping and sobbing and wailing and gnashing teeth. It was rarely productive to try forcing them out of it, when the fit took them. Better to simply allow nature to take its course, and hope they were more amenable afterwards.

Realizing she probably ought to DO something, Diodana gingerly extended a mechanical hand and patted the Eule's shoulder. "There, there," she said, "and other such comforting words."

If the Eule begrudged this contact, she didn't show it.

After a minute or so, she raised her head. She sniffed, rubbing her eyes. "...why are you out here, Diodana?"

"I wished to see if I was misinformed that Kitezh was akin to my native Mars," Diodana said, patting the Eule again. "I am pleasantry surprised to find I was not. It is very beautiful here." She sighed, looking out at the landscape. "It could use more manufactora on the horizon, however. But I suppose my brethren who settled here will attend to that soon enough."

The Eule sniffed, looking out at the horizon. "...I guess it's pretty..."

Diodana nodded. She glanced at the Eule. "You are...EULR-N0611, if I am not mistaken. Yes?"

Samantha nodded. "Samantha," she offered.

"Do you have sufficient water...Samantha?" The tech priest understood that while replikas tolerated their numerical designations, as simply being accustomed to Diodana's eccentricity, they responded better to their chosen names. In certain circumstances, this was warranted.

Samantha nodded. "I have my canteen..." she nodded.

"Imbibe," Diodana ordered. "Heatstroke is dangerous." She softened. "Moreover...even without that threat, you will find the effects of post-cry dehydration unpleasant. Hydrate, if you please."

The Eule nodded, and did what she was told. Her eyes were red and puffy. She found herself gratefully gulping down water within moments.

When she finished, she rested her chin on her arms and stared into the horizon.

"Very good," Diodana nodded. She paused, joining the girl in watching the red dunes in the distance. "...may I inquire as to the source of your distress, Samantha?"

"Hmph..." Samantha huffed, closing her eyes. "...I've been working up the courage to ask out a girl I liked." She frowned. "But she's currently being fucked by two floozies." She scowled, hugging herself angrily.

"Floozies?"

"Two tall, beautiful desert women," Samantha said, fingers playing with the fraying hem of her cloak. "I shouldn't be surprised, really. Pretty. Exotic. Experienced. One of them's even a Star, like her."

Diodana raised her head, fractionally. "Ah. The girl you had intentions on is STAR-N0601, yes?"

Samantha buried her head in her arms. "Don't know why I ever thought I had a chance with Dash," she said, voice muffled. "She's so cool. Smart. Professional. Of course the first time she has sex, it's with two complete, ten out of ten smokeshows." Her chest heaved. "I'm such an idiot."

"Admittedly, I find all matters of both romance and sex to be idiotic," Diodana said. "So much time, effort, and mental anguish, devoted to such a..." She stopped, sighing. "You are not an idiot, Samantha. At least, no more than any of you sex-crazed children."

"What makes you think that?" Samantha said. She peeked out from her arms. "That I'm not an idiot."

"Hmm..." Diodana tapped her knee with a single metal finger, cogitating. "There is...a certain emotional calculus, that comes from mating. Balancing the needs of the mind with that of the...for lack of a more succinct word, the 'heart'...with that of the body. Forces pulling one in different directions. Desire warring ever with caution. There's a great deal of risk, exposing those desires. Making them known. To be open is to invite rejection. To invite pain. When one is inexperienced, this calculus becomes all the more fraught, because there's so little you really know."

Samantha raised her head.

"Even when you finally work up the courage," Diodana continued, "and embrace the carnal acts...it can be...dissatisfying. Disappointing. Especially if both participants know not what they do...or how to please one another. It can sour one's taste for sex and romance both, as if it was never worth it to begin with."

Diodana tapped her finger. Pensive. "...it can seem so much easier to just...give up. Write the whole process off. Abandon that part of your humanity, and embrace...other things. And yes, the Work is always demanding. She is a harsh and needy mistress. Always jealous of your time. It can be so easy to..." The tech priest went silent.

Samantha stared at the old woman. "...we're talking more about you now, aren't we?"

The Martian held her face in her hand. She sighed. "...was I really motivated by the Work?" she muttered. "Or was that an excuse? Oh, I served the Omnissiah. The Work had meaning. So my career was hardly a waste. But..."

The Eule scooted across the red sand and sat next to the tech priest. "Do you mind if I hug you, madam tech priest?"

Diodana paused. Then sighed. "I permit it, if it pleases you."

Samantha leaned over and hugged the tech priest's arm. The parts above the elbow were bony, though reinforced by metal and wire.

They sat in silence, watching the horizon.

"..."

Diodana breathed. "...what will you do now?"

"I don't know." Samantha whimpered, shutting her eyes. "I want her so bad. But I'm afraid I've lost my chance..." She sobbed.

"Nonsense," Diodana said, using her free arm to pat the Eule's hand. "The 'floozies', as you call them, are Kitezh natives. They will stay here. It is their home. Whereas I know for a fact STAR-N0601 intends to leave with us for the war. If, as you say, she is presently experiencing intercourse for the first time, it is nothing remotely a commitment on her part. She knows that. It's just...lust. Or a desire to free herself from the anxiety of never having engaged, before she risks life and limb." The tech priest raised a metal finger. "Even if only for the space of our trips to Vineta and Rotfront, you will have ample opportunity to seduce her." She turned her head to Samantha fractionally. "If you still desire it."

Samantha frowned. "Would she still want me? After she's had a couple ten out of ten smokeshows?"

"That, I cannot judge," Diodana said. "It's her decision." She looked back to the horizon. "But...so long as the question remains unanswered, your efficiency at your job will suffer. Is it not so?"

"Yes," Samantha breathed. "It'll drive me crazy."

"Well, we obviously cannot have you suffer a mental breakdown, can we?" Diodana nodded. "Our only recourse is to have you proposition STAR-N0601 at the earliest opportunity."

Samantha blushed. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"What do I say to her?" Samantha said, looking up at Diodana. "What can I possibly say to...make her like me?"

"You cannot 'make' her do anything, little one," Diodana said, looking down at her. "What you can do...is tell the truth. Do not be coy, or indirect. The dances people do when they know full well what they desire has always struck me as tedious. You do not have the time. So don't dilly dally, prevaricate, or cloak your meaning. Be direct. Tell STAR-N0601 exactly what you want. Then, at least, you will know."

Samantha frowned. "You make it sound so easy. As if I could just do that."

The tech priest chuckled. "LSTR-512 has been a bad influence on me. I said something to that effect, when she insisted we could rip the warp engine from the Joys of Duty and implant it into the Nomarch. As if it were the simplest thing in the world. No matter how much I protested, she had already decided on that course." She looked down at the Eule. "Look how THAT turned out."

Samantha set her jaw. She looked out at the horizon.

"...I guess...I lose nothing by trying..." The Eule sighed. "And if I get rejected, I can always retire to Vineta, where no one knows me. So I can escape my embarrassment." She smiled.

"Splended," Diodana said. She started to rise, painfully. Wincing audibly at her one organic knee. "If our emotional dialogue is concluded, may we retire from the heat now?"

"Of course," Samantha said, helping the tech priest up. She held the hem of Diodana's sleeve. "...and madam tech priest?"

"Yes?" Diodana said, photo-receptors glinting bright in the daylight sun.

"Thank you." Samantha smiled.

Diodana paused, then nodded. "You are welcome, Samantha."

The two turned to head to the compound.

"Now..." said Diodana, "let's see if there's still work to be done..."

Chapter 29: Safe Harbor on the Salty Seas

"You guys knew the whole time!?"

Kite, Double Tap, and Breach (STAR-N0604) stood or leaned in the Star dorm.

"Heh heh, yeah," Kite said, giggling. "We knew."

Breach coughed, looking away nervously. "Um...I didn't know. I just...assumed you were more experienced..."

"Th-thank you, Breach," Dash mumbled, face beet red. She glared at her fellow senior Stars. "But you two knew, right? How? Meryl..."

"Is not that good a liar," Kite said, shaking her head and grinning like a loon. "We shack up from time to time, you know that. I'm very familiar with her lack of a poker face."

Double Tap nodded. "Yeah...when we called her bluff, Meryl begged us to pretend we didn't know."

Dash gritted her teeth and stared at the floor.

"...sorry, Dash," Double Tap said, scratching the back of her head.

"Honestly, you should be thanking us for not giving you shit all these years," Kite said, pointing at Dash. "We didn't have to do that, you know."

"Bet you girls have been laughing behind my back about it, though," Dash mumbled, crossing her arms. "Laughing at Virgin Dash, doesn't know a woman's touch..."

"Heh heh, yeah," Kite said, chuckling. When Dash glared at her, she raised her hands plaintively. "Sorry, sorry. That's a shitty thing to do."

"Yeah, Dash, sorry," Double Tap said, frowning. "We know you've been working hard all these years."

"Plus, all that's bygones," Kite said, smiling. She pointed twin finger guns at Dash. "Took a while, but our big sis finally got laid!"

"And if rumors are to be believed, two at once!" Double Tap nudged Dash's arm with her elbow. "Nice job. Welcome to the club!"

Dash, still blushing, cracked a small smile. "Yeah...I guess..." She looked between her sisters. "Thanks." Dash looked at Breach, who was turned away and stepped back, looking visibly excluded. "Don't worry, Breach. You'll get your chance."

"Yeah, Breach," Kite said, patting their youngest sibling on the back. "The captain took how many years? You'll find a lucky lady." She stroked her chin. "You think Meryl would...?"

"Absolutely," Dash said, nodding. "She offered to sleep with me, when we talked about it. I couldn't. We're too close. I could put in a good word for you, if you want."

Breach blushed, looking down and rubbing her arm. "Don't need charity..." she mumbled.

"It's not charity, kid," Kite said. "It's helping a sister out. That's what we're here for."

Breach crossed her arms. "...I'll...think about it..."

"So what kind of replikas were they?" Double Tap said, turning to Dash. "I heard they were Kitezh."

"One was an older Star, from before the invasion," Dash said, scratching the back of her head. When her sisters gave her odd looks, she scowled. "Come on, it's not like it is with us. She didn't grow up with me. Angelica was..." She blushed, looking down. "...something else..."

Kite shrugged. "Guess that's fine." She tapped her chin and stared up. "It's weird, having a partner so much older than you." She smiled. "I bet she knows all the tricks."

"Not all of them," Dash said, smiling. "Sure, she was...wow...but while the other replika did, the Star didn't have any...special parts." She and Kite glanced at Double Tap. "...moreover, she didn't know the pressure point method."

"She didn't?" Kite said, raising her eyebrows. "Huh."

"Pressure point method?" Breach said. "What's that?"

Kite grinned. "Heh heh. Maybe Meryl can show you..."

"Knock it off, Kite!" Breach grumbled, elbowing her elder. Kite just laughed.

"What about the other one?" Double Tap said. She gestured a hand to Dash. "What were they?"

"Oh, right!" Dash said. "It was some Empire model. A really pretty lady with tan skin. A soldier-entertainer model, called an 'al-Naaji'."

Kite whistled. "Whaaaat? Our Dash, sleeping with an Empire replika? Will wonders never cease?"

"Yeah, I thought you hated everything about the Empire?" Double Tap said.

Dash rubbed her arm. "I...realized all of that was dumb..." She looked down, mumbling. "The Empire and Nation are dead. There's no point in worrying about that anymore."

"I mean yeah, we all knew that," Kite said, waving a hand dismissively. "It took you this long to realize?" She grinned mischievously. "Or did your opinion change when you saw how pretty she was?"

"Sh-shut up!" Dash grumbled. "It's not...!"

Knock, knock.

The Stars went silent.

"H-hello?" came a voice, behind the door. It sounded like a Eule. "Is D-Dash there? Can I talk to her?"

Dash walked over to the door and pressed the button, sliding it open.

"Ah!"

Dash blinked. "...Samantha?"

The Eule, blushing, held her hands up to her chest defensively, on reflex. She gulped. "...uh...hi, Dash..."

The Star blinked. "Hey...what's up?"

Samantha shut her eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled. Pressed a fist to her chest. When she opened her eyes, she had a determined expression. "Dash, w-will you fuck me?"

Dash froze, speechless. She blushed. "...eh...whu...?" she finally managed.

"...pffft! Hah hah hah!" Kite cackled from her vantage inside the dorm room.

"Oh my!" Double Tap said, pressing a hand to her lips.

Samantha blushed furiously, eyes lowered. "Sh-shit...no, that wasn't...I was going to say 'date me', but I..." She shook her head and looked up again. "N-no. This is right. Dash, I f-find you really attractive! D-do you want t-to...have...s-s-s..."

Dash, blinking and blushing, coughed. "...sex...?"

The Eule nodded, eyes clasped shut. "I know...you were just with two ten out of ten smokeshows..." she said, fists clenched, "...so you might not have much interest in me. And I'm really young. But..." She puffed her cheeks, face beet red. "I can't stop thinking about you! And it would really mean a lot to me!"

The Star shrank into herself. "...well, one of those ladies was a Star, so..." Dash tapped her index fingers together nervously. She couldn't make eye contact for more than a split second at a time. "...you think...I'm a smokeshow?"

Samantha shivered, exhaling hard. Her face couldn't get more red. "...y-yes...Dash, you are ab-absolutely a smokeshow..."

"You do? I-I-I..." Dash smiled and laughed nervously. "Uh...um...thank you...I..." She started trembling, overwhelmed. "I think you're...pr-pretty...that is, pretty attractive..."

The Eule was on the verge of hyperventilating. She forced herself to breathe deep. "S-so, do you wanna...do it...with me?"

Dash's face whipped this way and that, unable to respond. "I...I mean...I don't...no, that's not a r-rejection...you're very..."

Hands clapped on both of her shoulders. Dash flinched.

"Hey, hi, you're doing great, Samantha," Double Tap said, giving a thumbs up to the Eule.

"Can we just talk with our captain for one second?" Kite said, smiling. She patted Dash's chest jovially.

"Uh..." Dash said, looking back and forth between the Stars that leaned over her shoulders.

"I-I g-guess..." Samantha said, looking between the three.

"Great! She'll be right back!" Kite said, giving her own thumbs up.

Without a word, the two pulled their captain back into the room and spun her around.

"Guys!" Dash whispered, hunching over to form a Star huddle. "What are you...?"

Kite leaned into the huddle, until their faces were inches apart. "You are going to accept that generous offer, Dash."

"What?"

Double Tap joined the huddle. "You like her, right?"

"I...guess...?" Dash said, frowning. "I don't know her that well. Not enough to f-f-f..."

"But you're not opposed, right?" Kite said, cocking an eyebrow. "Come on, Dash. This girl is throwing herself at you! It would be ungentlewomanly to refuse."

"Kite's right, Dash," nodded Double Tap. "Samantha exercised incredible courage, being this forward. The least you could do is respond."

"But isn't this a little too fast?" Dash said.

"That wasn't a problem when you fucked those two women on Kitezh," Kite said. "What's different now?"

"It's really different!" Dash said. But she looked down. She didn't know how much of that she actually believed.

"You don't need to jump straight to bed," Double Tap said. She smiled. "We've still got time, before we leave the system."

Dash gulped. Shut her eyes. Exhaled. "Y-you're right." She nodded. "Okay...break!"

The huddle dispersed. Dash strode as confidently as her jelly legs could handle.

"Aannnd there she is," Breach said, bent over, elbowing Samantha. "You've got this." The junior Star walked past Dash, patting her on the shoulder as she went. "She's all yours, tiger."

"G-got it!" Dash mumbled. She stood in front of the Eule. "So...Samantha..."

Samantha gulped. "...so...Dash...do you...I mean..."

Dash inhaled. Exhaled. "I...don't know you well enough to...begin with s-sex."

The Eule frowned. "Oh. Okay. I under-"

"That doesn't mean..." Dash said, raising a finger. "...that I'm n-not willing to get to know you."

"Oh!" Samantha said, eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"Yes!" Dash puffed out her chest. "M-maybe we can have dinner? Or watch a movie together? You know...a d-date?"

The Eule smiled. "Yes! I'd love that!"

"T-then it's a date!" Dash said.

The Stars in the dorm clapped and cheered.

"Woo! Yeah!" Kite called, flashing a thumbs up.

"Sh-should we hold hands now?" Samantha asked, blushing. She extended a hand tentatively.

"S-sure!" Dash said, nodding. She blushed as she took the Eule's hand gingerly.

 

"Forty-eight...forty-nine...fifty."

The dark-skinned gestalt flashed a toothy grin, closing his hand around the stack of gold coins he just received. "My thanks, lady." He slid the coins into the offered pouch.

Captain Kenyatta gestured toward the ship with a flourish of his wool cap. "Shall I show you the wares?"

Elster nodded. "I'd like that, thank you."

"No, thank YOU, Elster," the old Empire sergeant said, placing the cap back on his bald head. He led her along the rusting metal dock. All around them, the Vinetan waves lapped against the artificial walkway built years ago, jutting from the oil rig behind them. "If it wasn't for your timely intervention that night, none of us would be here."

"Still," Elster said, hooves clanking on the metal surface, feeling the salty wind in her hair, "you already paid me back, by helping me then. You don't owe me anything."

"Hence, why I ask for payment," Kenyatta said. He laughed, biting the coin. "For real, though, my crew can't keep the ship running without a steady stream of income."

"That, I understand," Elster nodded. "Ships don't maintain themselves."

"I hear that," he sighed. He held the coin up and inspected its face by the light of the sun, shining down from a clear blue sky. "Where'd you get these, anyway?"

"A planet called Contenji," Elster said, pointing up. "It's a couple stars over. Frontier world."

"No shit?" Kenyatta said, looking over. He shook his head. "I still can't get over the idea of folks just hopping across space like that. What's this 'Can-ten-gee' like?"

"Full of life, but very wild," Elster said, stroking her chin. "Grassy plains, deep forests, roaring rivers, tall mountains. Long coastlines. Sparsely populated, when I was last there. People were forming homesteads and small cities."

"Sounds lovely," Kenyatta said. "Don't get me wrong, the ocean is nice. I just wish there was just a bit less of it everywhere."

Elster sighed. "I wish that too."

"What were you doing there?" Kenyatta said, to quickly change the subject.

"A lot of jobs for the local confederation of settlements," Elster said, shrugging. "Hunting bounties, shooting cattle rustlers, training militias. Culling Orks."

"The hell's an Ork?"

"Big, green idiots, that grow from fungus. Look like parodies of humanity. They're everywhere. They love fighting more than anything. Humans. Each other. Whoever's around, really." She waved a hand. "Their bodies exude spores, especially when they die violently. So fighting and dying seems like a part of their life cycle. Their spores root into the ground, and new ones pop up regularly. It's a big job just keeping their numbers in check."

"Wild," Kenyatta said, shaking his head. "Green fungus men, that grow like mushrooms. Space is weird."

"Tell me about it."

"They that dangerous?"

"Yes." Elster nodded. "Again, they're not smart. But they're cunning as they are brutal. I'd prefer to tackle anyone at range, if I could help it. But I especially don't want to end up in melee with Orks. Pray they never take root here. Or you'll be beating them back with an oar." She raised a finger. "A tip: kill whichever Ork is biggest in a mob. That's always their boss. If the boss dies, they fight each other to establish who the next boss will be."

"I'll keep that in mind," the gestalt said. "Well, we're here."

The tugboat bobbed in the water at the end of the dock, a gangway connecting the two. Gestalts and Vinetan replikas (Nation and Empire), dressed in overalls and cotton turtlenecks, hauled out their cargo: a collection of waterlogged replika corpses.

A few of Elster's own brood were already in amongst the crew, helping carry and catalog the "goods". Other Nomarch replikas followed Elster, carrying storage containers and barrels. Some pushed carts, to carry heavy burdens. Once these carts were emptied, they were loaded with bodies.

From Elster's vantage, the bodies bore signs of salt corrosion and dried barnacles.

"Sorry they're so messy," Kenyatta said, rubbing the back of his head. "We tried cleaning them up, but..."

"So much to do, so little time to do it," Elster nodded. "It's alright. Having a bunch of spare parts to clean is a good problem to have. I'll have our Adler assign the task to anyone without another job to do." She stroked her chin, wondering if Mik'hul could eat the barnacles. She dismissed the thought, not wanting to taint the parts...

"If you say so," Kenyatta said, nodding. "No gen 4 bodies, unfortunately. Not that we haven't found a bunch. It's just the Eules have first pick."

"Makes sense," Elster said, nodding. "We'll need more combat models anyway."

As if on cue, forms broke through the surface of the water and swam over to the dock. Kenyatta's soldiers-turned-sailors reached down and grabbed the upraised hands. Pulling the replikas from the water.

Flopping on deck, the Eules lowered their face masks. On their torsos, beneath the arms, artificial gills writhed, seeking water. The Eules - five or six of them - gasped, transitioning to air-breathing. They crawled forward, before turning to sit.

Elster never got tired of seeing it. The way their legs, locked together by mechanisms, glistened in the sun. The Eules didn't need to coat their legs in reflective scales. Many did not, for greater stealth. But some did. Perhaps to blend in with the sea life, for an ounce of protection. Perhaps simply because they gained joy from the gossamer sheen. As they did from the fan-like fin attached to the ends of their hooves.

Latches on these lengths unhooked, seemingly from thought alone. Their tail-legs bifurcated down the middle, allowing them to spread out. The fins broke in two as well, before folding back to sit behind their hooves. Stretching out, the Eules clambered and stood upright. Little Mermaids that could endlessly effect their own transition to land, no loss of voice required.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Kenyatta said, shaking his head. "Never get tired of that."

"Agreed," Elster said, rising out of her awed reverie. "I still can't believe they managed it."

"Heh. You're not the only one whose been working on replikas, since the invasion," Kenyatta said, grinning. "The Eules did all that by themselves. I figure they found an underwater base of some kind. Must be where they lair."

A Mer-Eule walked over, wringing seawater from a waist-length lock of hair. "You are LSTR-512?" she said, pressing webbed fingers to her cheek.

"I am," Elster said, nodding. "Everything has been waterproofed, as arranged."

"Thank you very much!" the Eule said, bowing her head. Pressed her hands together in prayer. "We will appreciate this greatly, Machine Mother!"

Elster cocked an eyebrow. "Machine Mother?"

The Eule blushed. "It is what the Kolibri call you. They have been talking over the gulfs of space, to Kolibri on the other worlds. They call you the Machine Mother. The one who gives new life to replikas."

Elster blinked. "Uh...okay..." All she could do was stare, unable to form a better response.

The Mer-Eule, seeing she'd embarrassed Elster, bowed. "Again, thank you. I will be on my way."

Elster waved. "You're welcome," she mumbled. She turned to Kenyatta. "Machine Mother?"

Kenyatta shrugged. "Take it from me," he said, "when someone helps you, you get real appreciative."

Elster saw some of her own Eules, arrived to haul cargo, become enraptured by their seaborne cousins. Elster smiled, and walked over.

"Oh Empress!" EULR-N0608 cried, unable to decide between staring at a Mer-Eules shining tail-leg scales or her long, luxurious hair.

"So pretty!" said EULR-N0610, hand shaking over hair she'd been given permission to touch. "Did the modifications hurt?"

The Mer-Eules giggled. "No, it doesn't hurt. The pressure changes take some getting used to, as do the switching from air to water breathing. But it's very manageable." She smiled as Eule 10 finally stroked her hair. "Would you two like to become like me?"

The two Nomarch Eules lit up, then looked to Elster, concerned.

Elster laughed. "Of course you can," she said. "If this is where you want to settle, that's no problem at all. Vineta was my home, once upon a time. It's a great place to live, especially if you're a fish."

Her Eules giggled and jumped for joy. They hugged Elster. "Thank you!" they cried together.

Elster hugged the two back. "I love you both. I'm glad you're finding a place you can be happy. And, more importantly, SAFE." She looked to the Mer-Eule. "Where can they get their modifications?"

"Mister Kenyatta can transport them to an island we use for this purpose," the Mer-Eule said.

"We'll be here in port for a few more days," Kenyatta said, nodding. "So if you want to head back up to orbit, get your things. Maybe say your goodbyes. We can wait until then."

"Obviously, only bring materials that are waterproof," the Mer-Eules said, giggling.

"We will!" the Nomarch Eules said, laughing.

"Hey Elster, I have more to show you," Kenyatta said, beckoning her over.

Elster nodded, and followed the gestalt. They stepped onto the ship. Elster felt it bob beneath her hooves.

They came to a set of bodies much larger than the others.

"Ah," Elster said. "The power armor models." She noted while other bodies had some salt corrosion and barnacles, these were covered in them.

"Three of them, as we talked about," Kenyatta said. "I don't even think these were actually killed in the invasion or the war. Some, I think, just died down there, in the depths. Deep sea miners." He turned to look at her, grinning. "I figured if you're going to war, you'll want some heavy duty fighters."

Elster nodded. "These will do nicely, yes. I'll make some fine Schnappers out of them."

"Just so long as they're not pointing at me," Kenyatta said, shaking his head. "Had enough of that, during the war."

"I know that feeling," Elster nodded. Her eyes wandered to a tarp, draped over a pile. "What's that there?" She pointed to the tarp.

"Ah! That's my surprise!" Kenyatta said, rubbing his hands together. He whistled to one of his men and pointed to the tarp. "Show the nice lady our surprise, would you?"

The sailor nodded, walking over and pulling the tarp back. Even the bearded man couldn't help but grin.

Elster's eyes went wide. After a shudder and a moment's trepidation, she suppressed the alarm working its way through her body. It was dead, after all. "Where did you find...?"

"Dredged from the sea bed, same as the others," Kenyatta said. He walked over to the exposed pile and clapped. "You don't see many of these out in the wild, now do you?"

Disassembled, in pieces, lay chipped armor plates. Black, with silver accents. Oversized shoulder pads, marked with either silver studs, or the silver symbol of an open hand.

"Space Marine power armor?" Elster muttered, stepping forward and kneeling. "Damn." She shook her head. "This wasn't in the deal, Kenyatta. I can't..."

"You CAN, because it's a gift," Kenyatta said, folding his arms. "I can't be caught dead hawking this thing, anyway. They'd string us all up, and let the gulls feast on our bodies. So, might as well give them to you. As a token for all you've done for us."

Elster stood up, nodding. "I understand. Thank you." She smiled. "Actually, since we're exchanging gifts, I brought some for you as well." She reached for the messenger bag slung from her shoulder.

"No kidding?" Kenyatta said, stroking his chin.

"I happen to remember, last time we talked, that you'd started smoking cigars," Elster said, nodding. She pulled a box from her bag. It bore the images of red deserts in stylized design. "I picked this one up from Kitezh the other day."

"No way!" Kenyatta said, taking the box. He smiled. "It's a bitch and a half to get real Kitezh tobacco out here. Most of it gets shipped off to Rotfront or Heimat, or more likely out to other systems." He shook his head. "You shouldn't have."

"Hold your 'shouldn't have's, because I have more." Elster pulled out another box, this one blue, adorned with white clouds. A tall, floating while tower dominated its lid. The box's seal was already broken.

"Is that...?" Kenyatta's eyes went wide. He took the box reverently. "Buyan cigars!" He shook his head in disbelief. "And this is the good shit, too!"

"From the late captain of the Nomarch's private stash," Elster nodded. "He wasn't a smoker by habit either, but he always smoked one cigar a year during the mission. There's still a few in there."

"You don't want it?" Kenyatta said, looking between the open box and her, marveling at the bounty.

"I don't smoke," Elster shrugged. "I don't let any of my kids smoke either. And Diodana doesn't want to 'inhale poison', as she calls it." She splayed her hands. "Plus...these are smokes fit for a captain...Captain Kenyatta."

Kenyatta shook his head again, unable to contain the shit-eating grin on his face. "Oh, Elster, you are something else." He took up a Buyan cigar, and fished his pocket for a pack of matches. "Don't mind if I light up now."

"Knock yourself out," Elster said, taking one step back to minimize second hand smoke.

The gestalt, considerate that he was, turned so he could blow smoke downwind from the replika. He cut off the end of the cigar with a pocket knife, then lit it with the wood match (as was proper). He sucked long and deep. Shutting his eyes, before exhaling smoke into the wind. "Bless the Empress," he breathed, shaking his head. "That's some good shit." He looked to the sky and made a sign of prayer. "One captain to another, may the Empress protect your soul, my friend. Wherever you are." He pointed to the sky. "Whenever I smoke, I'll smoke to your health. Or I guess your peace." He laughed, puffing again.

"Speaking of captaincy," Elster said, raising a finger. "One. Last. Gift."

Kenyatta went wide-eyed again when she pulled it out. "Is that...?"

Elster held up a hat. "I hope you don't mind I kept the late captain's dress uniform. I do enjoy wearing it, when we're jumping into and out of the Warp. But the captain also had an everyday hat he wore." She held it out, white with navy blue accents. A hexagon emblazoned on the front. "A captain always needs a hat, after all."

Kenyatta gingerly accepted the headwear. He stuck the cigar in his mouth, removed his own wool hat, and placed the regal Empire finery on his head. He grinned. The gestalt turned to his crew. "How do I look, everybody!"

The men and women under his command, as well as Elster's replikas and the Mer-Eules, all clapped and cheered.

"Thank you, thank you!" Kenyatta said, waving with both hands. "Damn..." He looked at Elster. "Lady, you better not die out there. Cause I'm going to need to find you an even better gift for next time."

Elster smiled. "I'd like that."

 

"Are you sure you don't want become a mermaid?"

Trinity giggled, touching the hand that stroked her cheek and kissing it. "You think I'm beautiful enough to seduce sailors?"

"Yes," Petunia said, nodding. She stroked Trinity's auburn hair and pressed the Eule's forehead to her chest.

"Definitely," Double Tap said, rubbing the Eule's shoulder. "You seduced both of us, after all. And we're...well, we both live on a ship."

"Sailors, of a sort," Petunia said.

"True," Trinity said, smiling. Her hand traced the shape of the Ara's side, stroking her wide hip.

"There's still time, if you wanted to," Double Tap said, raising her head to flip the pillow over.

"Hmm..." Trinity said, luxuriating in her position on the bed, sandwiched between her two lovers. "...could you two join me?"

"The modifications may take more work, to adapt to our frames," Petunia said, petting the Eule's thigh. "But very doable." She frowned.

Trinity looked up. "...you wouldn't want to live under the sea, would you Pet?"

"I...have trepidation living anywhere that's not the ship," Petunia said, shutting her eyes. "Change is scary." Her mouth curled, queasily. "Transitioning to water would be scarier still."

"Well, making my sweetie pie uncomfortable like that is out of the question, then," Trinity said, waiting until the Ara opened her eyes before slowly poking her nose. "Boop!" The Eule smiled as Petunia smiled. Trinity craned her neck back. "What about you, D.T.? I suppose you'll want to follow Elster into battle?"

Double Tap frowned, looking away guiltily. "Yeah...I can't let mom go out there alone," the Star said. She hugged both of her lovers closer. "...I was...kind of hoping to convince you two to stay behind somewhere. I'd feel better if you were both safe, and at least you'd have each other..."

"But you'd feeling miserable," Trinity said, pouting. "And our bed would never feel full, without you in it."

Petunia nodded. She extended a hand and tucked in between Double Tap's cheek and the pillow. Fingers weaving through dyed green hair.

Double Tap smiled at Petunia, then sighed. She shut her eyes, frowning. "You girls are making this so difficult. I had a whole speech planned in my head, to get you to leave. And now you're just...I'm just..." She whined, burying her face in Petunia's hand. "God, I'm so fucking weak..."

"Hey now..." Trinity turned to lie on her back, her lovers shifting to accommodate her. She craned her neck, hand rising to stroke the back of the Star's head. She pulled Double Tap in and kissed her chin. "You're not weak, D.T. We appreciate how much you care for us."

"You're strong," Petunia said, squeezing Double Tap's cheek. "We love you. And we know you love us. There's nothing weak about that."

The Star sobbed. "I just...I don't want you to die." She sniffed, trying to master herself. "I'll feel more at ease, if I knew you were out of harm's way."

"Oh, and you're okay with us spending ten years worrying about you?" Trinity said, in a chastising tone. "Never knowing if you were hurt? Never knowing if you died? Never knowing if the whole ship and everyone on it died? Just...waiting for a ship that never returns?" She frowned. "How could we go on, worrying like that?"

"Pet, please," Double Tap said, looking in the Ara's eyes. "Have my back here. You know what I'm saying makes the most sense, right? That it's just safer for you to stay behind?"

Petunia frowned. "...intellectually, yes." She closed her eyes. "But it makes my heart ache, thinking I'd be without you, Double Tap."

She brushed a tear from Double Tap's eye. The Star sobbed.

"Besides," Petunia said, smiling. "The only way we can make sure you survive is if we're out there, supporting you."

"And if you die in battle," said Trinity, brushing a tear from the Star's other eye, "at least we'll know then. Rather than agonize over it for years. That's more merciful, I think." The Eule clutched the Star's arm, herself on the verge of crying. "So don't make us leave, D.T."

"If we die," said Petunia, "we die together."

"No!" Double Tap looked Petunia in the eyes. "If you want to come, fine! But if I die out there, you two have to live!" She scowled, tears running down her face. "You do everything you can to survive. Keep each other safe, no matter what." She looked between her two lovers, lowering her voice. "Promise me that."

Petunia frowned, nodding. "I promise, Double Tap."

Trinity, face full of tears, nodded. "Yeah...we promise."

The Star pulled the two to her, as close as she could. "You stupid girls..." she sobbed, pulling Trinity's head into the crook of her neck. Double Tap pressed her forehead to Petunia's. "You stupid, stupid girls." She sniffed. "I love you. I love you so much."

The other two clung to the Star, mumbling agreement.

And when their tears ran out, the three made love for the second time that night.

Only then, emotionally and physically spent, did they sleep. At no point did they leave each other's arms.

Chapter 30: And Again, Rotfront

"He's c-coming out n-now!"

The vent echoed with the Ara's voice, and with the rapid patter of padded feet.

Elster braced herself, engineer's ears tracking the approaching noise. When it nearly reached the end, she raised the sack and held it over the mouth.

"MRRRROW!" the creature cried, as it fell into the sack. It flailed, terrified and confused and utterly bamboozled.

"Got you!" Elster said, bundling the sack's mouth closed.

"Good job, Elster!" Begonia said, touching her cheek. Her squinting eyes observed the writhing sack. She frowned. "Poor thing..."

Elster nodded, holding the sack out at arms length. Claws already scratched at the burlap, trying desperately to be free. "We have him!" she called down the vent.

She heard the knocks and shuffles of a figure moving through the ducts.

The Ara poked her head out, raising her welder's mask. "Th-that's good," Kris said, climbing out. She stood on a pair of hooves, one mismatched to the other. "Let's g-get him into the c-cage and b-back home. He w-was looking in an awful w-way."

 

"Easy, easy!"

Elster wrapped the struggling creature in a thick blanket, constraining his limbs. Her cheek already bled from a scratch. "Come on, you," she muttered, carrying it from the cage to the table. "Can you get it?"

"Y-yes!" Kris stuttered, pulling the blanket back.

The bio-mechanical head shook around, slitted artificial eyes glaring wildly at anyone they could see. Enamel-coated titanium teeth biting the air as the creature hissed. "Mrrow!" he cried.

"G-got you!" Kris said, grabbing the back of the creature's head and forcing it forward. She pressed a finger to the neck, slipping between tufts of artificial fur. "Shh, shh," she cooed, tracing a seam in the neck, until she found a place she could pull back. She inserted a thin metal rod into a socket, and turned.

"Mrrow!" the creature whined, flinching. His body went limp.

"Finally," Elster sighed. With a nod from Kris, she laid her bundle out and uncovered him.

What lay before them, breathing rapidly but largely paralyzed, was for all intents and purposes a housecat. Only the patches of torn fur, exposing the synthetic musculature beneath, and the black seams around his face, betrayed that it wasn't a natural feline.

"I still can't believe the Nation created replika cats," Begonia said, looking down at the creature locked in silent panic. She pressed a hand to her mouth. "Poor thing."

"I know, right?" Elster said, crossing her arms. She frowned. "Do we have any iodine or other disinfectant? I want to take care of this cut." She pointed to her face.

"Th-third cabinet to the right, top sh-shelf," Kris said, pointing. She stroked the cat's head. "Shh, shh, it's okay. You're safe. I'm sorry we had to do this."

Elster removed the disinfectant bottle from the cabinet and prepared a cotton swab on the end of a pair of forceps. She soaked the swab, then gingerly pressed it to her face. "Ah!" she hissed, wincing.

Begonia came over and offered Elster an adhesive bandage. "Here."

"Thank you, Begonia," Elster nodded, taking it gratefully.

Kris put on a surgical mask, then a pair of gloves. "L-let's see what the p-problem is."

 

"J-just as I thought."

The feline was hooked up to an improvised repli-kat calibration device (no pod needed or available). Wires running to the back of the neck and into head ports connecting to the brain. It kept the patient in an unconscious and unfeeling state. Nonetheless, the bio-mechanical animal continued to breathe rapidly.

The Ara could see why. Kris poked the discolored mass of flesh. "Liver is f-f-failing," she said, forcing a frown.

"He must have been in so much pain," Begonia said, staring at the open chest cavity.

"We definitely didn't bring any replacement livers with cat DNA," Elster said, frowning behind her surgical mask. "Can we do anything for him?"

Kris nodded. "Begonia, c-can you check the organ f-fridge? It's the one w-with the white s-siding. Th-there should be one artificial-l-l liver for cats l-left."

Begonia opened the fridge, looking through. The fridge was almost empty, with signs it once was more well stocked. "What's the ID number?"

"C053K11," Kris said, without looking. "T-top shelf, in the b-back, I think."

Begonia pulled out a bag with a curious, flexible lump of dark red plastic, sealed inside a plastic bag. "Got it!" she said, taking it over.

"I can't believe the Nation not only created replika cats," Elster said, narrowing her eyes, "but cracked artificial livers for them, but not for human replikas."

"I..." Kris started, then frowned, holding the package handed to her. She corrected, "...the K-Kris from before w-worked as a vet-t-t assistant for r-replika animals. The Nation put a T-TON more research into k-keeping replika c-cats and dogs alive, than th-they did replika humans-s. Turns out, the N-Nation could just r-replace a sufficiently d-damaged worker, without-t care. But the kinds of-f officials who could afford a repli-kat get v-very attached t-to their pets."

"Makes sense, in an infuriating sort of way," Elster said. "What I wouldn't give to be able to manufacture some artificial organs, rather than grow everything."

"Th-the ones the Nation had were st-still not great-t," Kris said, preparing the organ in a metal dish full of warm water. "This w-won't last for more th-than a few months. A y-year at most." She looked and pointed at Elster. "B-but th-thanks to you, we h-have the tools needed to grow n-new ones. Which is g-g-good, because we have s-so few artificial or-organs left."

"No problem," Elster nodded.

"S-spread that bundle out, would you B-Begonia?" Kris said, pointing to a rolled plastic sheet on a nearby counter, bulging with unseen objects within.

"Sure," Begonia said. She brought the roll to the small table beside Kris. She unrolled it, revealing sterilized tools she set out, one by one.

"Thank you," Kris said, nodding. She took up a scalpel and two sets of forceps. "The old l-liver will need to g-go immediat-tely."

 

"Are you feeling better?"

The cat purred, eyes closed, pressing his head into the replika digits giving him scritches.

"I should h-hope so," Kris said, holding the cat in her lap, wrapped in a bundle. "I g-gave him an injection of-f painkillers before w-we removed c-calibration. It sh-should keep him comfortable, while h-he heals. We'll g-give him more in a few hours."

Tansy stroked the cat's back. "I wish we had a cat, back on the ship," she said, her other hand squeezing Pansy's.

"Guess it's good we're here now," Pansy said, smiling. They watched the animal, bemused. "But I bet the others back on the Nomarch would love them."

Elster sat back in her chair, sipping a cup of tea. "It wouldn't actually be a bad idea, really," she said, shutting her eyes and blowing the steam. "I always knew there were rats stowed away on the Penrose 313. Unless the Nomarch had them already..." ...and if the aliens didn't eat them..., Elster thought. "...they had to have crossed down from the bridge when no one was looking. The Aras up there have a hell of a time keeping them from eating the crops. And Meryl is sick of fighting them in the kitchens and storeroom." She sipped the hot tea gingerly.

In truth, Elster hadn't been too concerned about the rats on the Penrose. Mik'hul, if his own comments were to be believed, ate them from time to time. Not, as he attested, because he needed to eat, but because he was bored. ("And to help the boss out!" he would add). Even employing some kind of "Pied Piper" trick to lure rats into the reactor room. (A disquieting thought, to Elster, if he attempted to use that same trick on a replika).

While she found the daemon distasteful, Elster appreciated his silent battles against Rattus rattus. Since it meant fewer instances of rodents chewing through power cables or devouring her personal supplies. Elster could scarcely imagine the nightmare of fighting rats all during her and Ariane's original flight...

With the infestation spread to the Nomarch, though, Elster needed help. More soldiers to fight the war against the rats. Yes. YES.

"W-well, there's no sh-shortage of cats around h-here," Kris said, waving a hand. "T-take your pick."

Indeed, felines (some of replika variety, most of flesh-and-blood) milled around Kris's room. Sleeping on floor cushions, leaping on the ratty couch, or climbing on salvaged cat trees.

There was also a large replika dog, currently curled up in front of Begonia sitting on the floor, receiving pets. "Who's a good boy? ...or are you a girl?" Begonia tilted her head curiously.

"I th-think that's a WCHR unit, D-type," Kris said. "So it's a f-female neural pattern. The N-Nation produced a ton of di-different neural patterns."

Elster nodded. "Yeah, I noticed that, back when I was trawling my copy of the archives. There were something like a half dozen Wachhund variants alone. Not including the Angriffshunds or Spürhunds." These being the "Guard", "Attack", and "Tracking" units, respectively. "Or the...dozens and dozens of unsorted dog neural patterns that saw usually one production on record."

"Officials l-liked their dogs," Kris said.

"Oh yeah," Pansy said, looking up. "I guess if you ran the Nation, you'd absolutely want your old pets to live forever."

"A-and th-then because some officials g-got their dogs br-brought back from the dead," Kris said, nodding, "the c-cat people wanted th-theirs, too. Hence, the repli-kat chassis."

"Did replika cats really come about solely because officials couldn't let go?" Tansy wondered. She leaned over to the cat in Kris's lap. "Not that I blame them. You're suck a cutie. Yes you are."

The repli-kat purred, sniffing Tansy's face. She scritched his chin.

"W-well, like Elster s-said," Kris began, "they're al-also g-good for hunting ro-ro-rodents. And repli-kats can't br-breed, so are eas-easier to c-control."

"If we were to take a few cats," Elster asked, coaxing a feline to receive scritches, "should we take 'gestalt' ones? Or would replika cats be better?"

Kris sucked through her teeth, rocking her head back and forth. She sighed. "That's...c-complicated. Like I s-said, repli-kats are easier t-to stop fr-from multiplying out of c-control. But m-maybe that's wh-what you want, since br-breeding pairs w-will replenish themselves over time. They h-heal injuries on th-their own, too. Less m-maintenance."

Elster frowned. "Yeah...I imagine it would require specialized knowledge to maintain replika animals, huh?"

Kris nodded. "It's a lot h-harder than it looks," she said. "I kn-know a lot, b-because I was taught. I d-don't have the time to t-teach all I know, or wr-write a d-detailed document."

"Whereas a normal cat only needs a normal vet," Elster said, petting the cat that sat in her lap. "My records might have something about the mechanics of replika cats. But veterinarians will be more common than technicians for a niche application of verboten technology, hailing from one star system on the edge of the galaxy." She looked down at the animal. "...plus...it's not like there won't be more than enough mechanical work ahead of us. Production bottlenecks for replika parts and organs just for US. Another set of creatures that need that kind of work would be..."

"Too bad, cat-bot," Pansy said, smirking at the cat in Kris's lap. "Looks like you don't get to go to space either."

"I'll h-have some of the other Aras c-come through and p-pick out cats that would be okay to r-rehome," Kris said.

"Sounds good," Elster said, nodding. "Glad we picked up all that canned and dried fish back on Vineta," she muttered. She looked down at Begonia.

Begonia's eyes were fully closed. She just sat on her cushion, feeling the replika dog cuddled up beside her breathe. "...good dog...good girl..."

Elster smiled. "...is this where you want to stay, Begonia?"

The Ara squinted up at her. She looked back down, frowning. Contemplating for quite some time. Finally, she nodded. "Yes. I'd like to stay here. I think I could do some good."

"I'm glad," Elster said, nodding. "I wouldn't want anyone to come with, unless they were totally sure. I'll be glad to know you're somewhere you can be happy."

"I'll tell Poppy to set up another bunk," Pansy said, rising to their hooves. "Does anyone know where she went?"

Kris looked up. "She was p-prepping surgery room 3, last t-time I ch-checked."

 

"Aaaand done! How does it feel?"

The electric tool spun the last bolt into place.

The Ara sat up, feeling her sides. "Much better," Cardy said, sighing. The nearly omnipresent tension in her face melted away. "Honestly, it just feels good to not have that tube in me." She felt the left side of her torso. "It's odd, not having that hole anymore."

"Like your new chest piece?" Poppy said, forcing a smile.

"Mmhmm," Cardy nodded, moving to the edge of the operating table. "You didn't need to bring a new one. We could have patched the old one up."

"We will, when we need it," Poppy said, placing a hand on Cardy's shoulder. "But after raiding that workshop, we had a surplus. Besides, everyone deserves a fresh set of body parts, every so often."

"I guess," Cardy said, shrugging. She forced a smile. "Thank you."

"No problem." Poppy gave her a thumbs up. "Just take it easy, and take those painkillers. The new kidneys will sting for a bit, while they bond with your existing tissues."

"I will." Cardy looked at the portable dialysis machine on the floor. "What will we do with that, now that I have these?"

"Best to keep it around, in case the new kidneys don't work out." Poppy nudged the machine with her hoof. "Plus, it could be useful if another replika needs it in the future. Even with the grow lab up and running, there'll never be enough organs to go around. So a couple spare machines will help relieve production bottlenecks."

Cardy nodded, gingerly rising to her hooves. She hugged Poppy.

"Aw, you're welcome," Poppy said, hugging back.

 

"...so then I said, 'Oi! That's not a ratling! That's my girlfriend!'"

The conversation pit broke out into uproarious laughter.

"Hah hah...holy shit..." Kite said, banging on her knee with one hand, while the other clutched a beer. "I still remember that!"

"Pfft!" said Beatrice. The elder Storch pressed the back of her arm to her mouth to avoid spitting her drink. She coughed. "You're joking! She actually said that?"

"Fuck yeah, I did!" Hippolyta said, pointing a thumb at herself. She punched the palm of her hand. "Then I decked the guy! Right in the face!"

"Holy shit!" Beatrice cried, laughing. She facepalmed. "I don't know whether I should be mortified or impressed, newbie!"

"So what happened after that?" said Breach, nursing her beer nervously.

"Huh? Oh, a barfight broke out," Hippolyta said, waving her hand. "No biggie."

"I mean, it was kind of a biggie," Kite said, sardonically. "The guy you punched was a crime lord's lieutenant."

"Wait, really?" Beatrice said.

Hippolyta blushed, rubbing the back of her head. "Yeah...and that's the story of why we had to leave Mordia..."

Beatrice's smile fell. She sighed. "Come on, newbie..."

"What?" Hippolyta said, waving a hand. "He insulted my girl! He had it coming!"

"I don't disagree with the principle. He DID have it coming." The elder Storch crossed her arms, nodding. "But you still shouldn't have done it. Your crew lost their job, and had to skip town."

Hippolyte scowled, making to get up. Then, she sat back down, crossing her arms. She grumbled, looking between her legs at the floor. "I know, I know...Elster already chewed me out over it."

"Yet you treat it like a..." Beatrice sighed, shaking her head. "Look, you don't need me to tell you why that was stupid, right?"

"I just told you, Elster made it very clear," Hippolyte said, looking away. "I get it. My anger management gremlin was drunk at the time..."

"I told you getting Circe drunk was a bad idea," Kite said, before taking a swig. "Bioresonant replikas are hard enough to manage, when they're sober."

"No, Double Tap told me letting Circe drink was a bad idea," Hippolyta said, giving the Star a side glance. "You were there shouting 'chug, chug, chug' at her."

"Details!" Kite said, waving nonchalantly.

Beatrice sighed, looking at her junior. "Look, I don't want to harsh you, newbie. But it's my job." She took a sip of beer. "You have those new STCRs on the way, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hippolyta said, not looking at her senior. "Elster will need them, for what's ahead."

"Then that means you need to be the grownup," Beatrice said, pointing. "They're going to be exactly as hot-headed as you were when you woke up. As hot-headed as I was. I'm not going to be there to rein them in. And you can't rely on your girlfriend all the time. You have to be the one in control. Otherwise, you'll all just be liabilities."

Hippolyta sighed, nodding. "I know." She frowned. "It's just so hard, you know?"

"I do," Beatrice said, nodding. "And it'll be hard for them, too. Can you be a big girl, for them?"

Hippolyta glared, then grumbled. "Yeah...I can be a big girl..."

"Good." Beatrice stood up. "Come on, let's go for a walk."

"Right now?" Hippolyta said. She swung her legs up onto the lip of the conversation pit.

"Yeah, right now. We have very little time before you guys leave, so I need to get as much mentoring done as possible." She looked to the Stars. "You girls fine to hang out for a while?"

"Sure," Kite said, shrugging. "Maybe we'll see if any of the Aras want to join us."

"Have fun, Hip," Breach said, waving.

"Sure, sure," Hippolyta said, waving back. She followed her senior from the room, stooping to enter a side passage.

When they were amid the red grow lights and lush flowers, Hippolyta said. "You have any idea where Elster went?"

Beatrice shrugged. "I think she said something about going to find herself."

 

"...I'm...hac...sorry I...pulled my gun on you..."

The last bolt slid out. Elster put the tool down, then placed both hands on the chest panel.

She looked down at the ailing replika. Like looking in a mirror darkly.

Elster smiled. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Let's get this off, and see what's wrong."

LSTR-R1109 nodded, wincing as her chest plate was pulled off. She rested her head on the filthy mattress for a moment, then coughed. She pressed an already scarlet-covered fist against her mouth, as she coughed up more oxident. "...hah...ver...verdammt..."

"Verdammt, indeed," Elster breathed, squinting at the open chest cavity. She used the electric screwdriver to unfasten her doppelganger's ribcage, to get a better look. She didn't like what she saw.

"...so..." 1109 croaked, next straining in vain to give her a look, "...what's the damage, doc?" She gave a pained smile.

"The left lung is definitely on its last legs," Elster said, frowning. "Your left." She put on a medical glove from her bag, then shined a flashlight down. There just wasn't any good illumination, in the abandoned janitor's room her model-mate was squatting in.

But Elster saw all she needed to. "I'd give it another five, maybe six months." She said, touching the fleshy sack gently as possible, as it inflated and deflated. Too much of the tissue was mottled black, either by infection, necrosis, or, more likely, air contaminants. Rotfront was no stranger to industrial pollution, even before the Imperium came. "Your right lung is in moderately better shape. You'll get at least a few more years out of it."

1109 coughed. "...hac...lucky me..." She looked her healthy cousin in the eyes. "Guess I'm...heh...not going to keep our promise, huh?"

Elster stared, then patted the replika's shoulder. "Don't worry about the Promise," she said. She smiled. "That's been taken care of." She took off the glove, then began reattaching the ribcage and chest plate.

The ailing LSTR unit blinked, seeming on the verge of speaking. Then, simply lay her head back down.

When she was finished, Elster helped 1109 to sitting position. "Your other organs will eventually need replacing," she said. "Especially your Oxident Organ. But it's those lungs that need a swap, first thing."

"Heh..." 1109 chuckled, picking up and putting on her ratty old t-shirt. "No problem," she croaked, hand groping for her jacket, "I'll just...hac...go down to the corner store. They'll sell me LSTR compatible replika lungs, right?"

Elster placed a hand on the replika's shoulders. 1109 froze.

"I've been very busy over the last several years," Elster said. "Too goddamn busy."

The doppelganger frowned. "So much to do, so little time to do it."

Elster nodded. "One thing I've been doing," she said, smiling, "is making sure our little branch of the human family tree won't go extinct." She fished a folded note from her pocket and handed it over.

LSTR-R1109 unfolded the note and studied it. "...an address?" She squinted, a mote of recognition in her eyes. Even if she herself didn't know why it was familiar. "...this district..."

"ARAR units have been making a home under Rotfront for years now," Elster said, pointing to the note. "I've helped make sure they have equipment and knowledge, concerning replika preservation...and creation."

Her doppelganger's eyes opened wide. "..."

"Go there," Elster said, pointing again. "You'll be able to get in touch with them. The Aras will take care of you. I'll make sure they get working on growing some new organs. Everything you'll need."

"How?" 1109 said. "How did you get all that...?" When Elster just stared, 1109's eyes went half-lidded and looked down. "Oh. I see. 'With great difficulty', right?"

"Just so," Elster said, nodding. "Go there. Get yourself well."

1109 frowned, looking down. She pocketed the address. "I'll...think about it..."

Elster stood up, stretching. She stowed her tools back in her bag.

"...you said not to worry about the Promise..." 1109 croaked. She looked up. "...that means you really know what it is, don't you?"

"..." Elster nodded. "Yes."

"Every other LSTR unit I met...hac..." 1109 coughed, shaking her head. "...every one, since the dreams started, knows about the Promise. But little else..." She looked up. "...who is the woman? What did we promise?"

"You don't need to worry about it..."

"I do!" LSTR-R1109 staggered to her feet, supporting herself against the concrete wall. "For years...huff...I couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop...hac...dreaming about it. Seeing her face. I tried so hard, to get to Leng. They wanted to decommission me, because I wouldn't stop begging to go. We all tried to go, and I just...I couldn't get there..." She frowned, looking down at the floor. "We knew her. We knew her and we loved her, didn't we?"

Elster sighed, nodding. "With all our heart."

"It hurts. I can't remember her name," 1109 whined, rubbing her eyes. "Do you know it? You seem to know way more."

"..." Elster looked her cousin in the eyes. "...her name is Ariane Yeong. The love of our life."

1109's eyes widened, then she smiled. Then, her lip quivered, and she placed her face in her hands. She sobbed. "...oh god...hac..."

Elster rubbed the replika's shoulder. Patted her back. "It's okay..."

The poor woman shook her head. "You shouldn't have told me," she gasped. "It felt so good. I can remember her name. I can see us, now, together." She heaved, rubbing her tear-stained eyes. "But now it just hurts more! I shouldn't have asked!"

Elster hugged her cousin, letting her cry. "Shh, shh," she whispered, rubbing the woman's back.

The two LSTR units stood there, in the dim light of a fading, incandescent bulb. Sobs filled the tiny, filthy space.

When she calmed down, 1109 looked Elster in the eyes. "...when you said not to worry about the Promise...does that mean you...?" She sniffed, rubbing tears away with her sleeve. "...did we keep it?"

Elster looked stoically into her cousin's eyes. "No."

LSTR-R1109 gasped, eyebrows rising. She seemed on the verge of either tears, or outrage.

"Because I found a better way," Elster said. "We won't need to fulfill the Promise. I made sure of that."

Her cousin's mounting emotional outburst fizzled. She exhaled. "...oh..." she said, frowning. "...what did...?"

"She was in pain," Elster said, stroking her model-mate's cheek. "She needed release. But I found a better way. She isn't in pain anymore."

"...and that's why the dreams stopped..." 1109 sniffed. She looked into Elster's eyes. "...is she...alive?"

"Yes," Elster nodded. "She's alive. She's safe. In fact, she's safer than anyone possibly can be, in this galaxy. Things are about to get a lot more dangerous, our there. But more than anyone, Ariane will be safe."

Lower lip quivering, 1109 hugged Elster again. "Thank you!" she gasped. Elster could feel the tension in her whole body release. A tension held inside the poor woman for years. "...thank god...huff...I'm free..."

Elster patted the woman's back, smiling.

"...it's funny..." 1109 breathed, clutching the back of Elster's trenchcoat. "...I feel so much relief...but now..." She sighed. "...now I don't know what to live for. Just remembering the Promise kept me going."

Elster pulled away, holding her cousin's hands. "You can live for yourself," she said. "If Ariane was here, she'd agree with me."

A twinge of pain on the replika's face. Then, she nodded, resolute. "Yes. She would, wouldn't she? I'll do that. I'll live, as one last favor for...her." She smiled, looking Elster in the eyes. "I could never fulfill the Promise. I can at least promise to live." She stared hard into Elster's eyes. "You can be with her, right?"

"Yes."

"You promise to keep her safe," 1109 said, cupping her hands around Elster's face. "Keep her safe. Love her. Love her with all our soul. For me, and every other LSTR. Promise me."

"I promise," Elster said, nodding. She meant it.

"Good," 1109 said, looking down. She sighed, sitting down on the stained mattress. "Good. I...I need some rest." She coughed, massaging her chest.

Elster nodded, then stared down at the replika. "...there's...one last thing you could do for me. After you've gotten yourself well."

"What is it?" LSTR-R1109 said, looking up.

"Ariane Yeong had family," Elster said. "Her mother, Iris Yeong. And her aunt, Kamilla. Kamilla lived somewhere here on Rotfront." She shook her head. "I don't think Ariane liked her aunt very much. But she always missed her mother."

"Where is she?" 1109 said, sitting up.

"Leng," Elster said. "Ariane grew up with her mother on Leng. On a Nation radio outpost. She may still be there, if the Imperium hasn't dismantled it."

The replika looked down somberly, then nodded. "I guess I still need to go to Leng after all."

"You don't have to," Elster said. "But if you find yourself there, check in on her."

"I will." The replika nodded, expression hard. "What about you?"

"Unfortunately, I can't do it myself," Elster said, sighing. "I have to depart Rotfront. Depart the Eusan system entirely. I have no choice. So much to do..."

"...so little time to do it," LSTR-R1109 croaked. She nodded. "Go. I can settle things here."

"Maybe find your own life to lead," Elster nodded.

The replika, chest now flush with renewed purpose, looked down at her hand. "...maybe..."

 

"It's coming, it's coming, it's coming. The storm is coming. It brings ruin. It's coming..."

Circe, squatting in a tunnel kept moist by leaky pipes and years of seeping snowmelt, regarded her senior gravely.

"What storm?" Circe said, extending a hand. Both in the material, and the immaterial. "It's alright. Talk to us."

The once Blockwart, now storm-tossed fugitive, knelt in the dark. Trembling. Trembling. Hugging herself. Whether by Circe's voice or her psychic entreaty, the Kolibri's frantic eyes darted towards her. "Ah!" she squeaked. Acting, for a second, as if she'd seen two ghosts. "...oh...you're not..." She sank lower, frowning, looking down at the cold, damp group. "You're not wh-who I thought..."

Circe looked uneasily at Shahrazad, who stood at her side. Her progeny frowned, shrugging.

Circe looked back. "...did we remind you of your old circle?" She frowned. "They're not with you anymore, I take it?"

The trembling Kolibri glanced over, then shook her head. "N-no...they...didn't survive the pogrom." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "...but...I-I still...h-hear them, sometimes." She immediately turned her head. "I'm not degrading! I'm fine!"

Circe raised her hands plaintively. "It's alright! You're safe!" She smiled. "No one is going to decommission you."

"Except the Imperial authorities..." Shahrazad ventured, scratching her cheek.

"That's not decommissioning, Shah," Circe said, looking up. "That's just murder. They'd do that regardless of her mental state." Circe looked back. "...and Elster says 'Persona Degradation' was just the Nation's way of saying you stopped being perfectly identical to the template they wanted. I don't think anyone will blame you for...changing...the post-Invasion years were rough on everybody."

The Kolibri glanced over, eyeing the younger unit curiously. She looked back to the ground, rocking back and forth. "...I guess..."

Circle smiled. "My name is Circe," she said. "This is my youngest, Shahrazad."

"Hi!" Shahrazad said, waving nervously.

"Do you have a name you call your own?" Circe said.

The Kolibri frowned, looking back and forth between Circe and the floor. She screwed up her mouth, then said, "Ch-Charity. M-My cadre called me Charity. Only through the biorez connection. N-never out loud."

"It's nice to meet you, Charity," Circe said. She frowned when the elder Kolibri flinched at her own name.

The Kolibri began to shake more violently, clasping her eyes shut. "...it's coming...it's coming..."

Circe, sighed, crawled over and hugged her trembling elder. "There, there."

Charity flinched, eyes snapping open. "...w-why are you touching me?"

"Ah! Sorry!" Circe said, removing her arms. "I should have asked. It's...we're a touchy circle, my kids and I."

"Why?" Charity asked, eyes looking up.

"Elster...the one who created me...she held me like that, when I was activated," Circe said. "To comfort me, when I was still getting used to my bioresonance. Then, when I made my kids, I held them. Still do."

Shahrazad squatted on the other side of Charity, unsure of whether to engage hugging or not. She hiked up the oversized, powder blue t-shirt she wore, so it wouldn't dip into the wet ground.

Charity looked over her shoulder at the younger Kolibri, then looked at the ground. "...oh..."

"I take it your 'cadre' weren't big on intimate contact, huh?" Circe said, frowning.

"N-no," Charity said, frowning. She shivered. "Wasn't encouraged. Too personal."

"I take it I don't have your consent to be touched?" Circe held her hands out. "It's fine if you don't want it."

Charity considered for a moment, shivering. Then, she hugged herself more. "...n-no, it's fine. You can...hug me, if you want."

"Do you want to be hugged, Charity?"

The elder Kolibri looked to be on the verge of tears. She breathed, forcing them down. "Yes."

Circe smiled. She opened her arms wide.

Charity nodded, shutting her eyes. "Ngh!" she squeaked, as Circe embraced her. The elder Kolibri placed a hand gingerly on Circe's arm.

Shahrazad looked at the two, then down at the ground. She hiked the legs of her gray sweatpants up above her knees, then knelt. She joined in hugging Charity, placing one arm around the woman's stomach, the other stroking her hair.

Charity closed her eyes. She pressed her head into the crook of Circe's neck. She trembled. "...the storm..."

"Shh, shh," Circe whispered. "It's okay."

They sat in silence. Over time, the elder's trembling slowed.

"...would you like to speak mentally?" Circe asked, rubbing Charity's back. "We'll invite you." She extended her mental hand again, holding it out. Waiting.

Shahrazad extended her own mental invitation. To the Kolibri between them, they for all the world looked like two (three?) people, joined together, reaching out to her.

Charity's chest heaved. Her eyes shut. "Yes please..." Her voice cracked. She ached for contact. "It's been so long...since I've linked with someone...alive..."

Her hands shot out, fumbling for them roughly. When they closed around her, she held on tight.

On the mental plane, the two (three) shivered, feeling the rush of the elder's emotions. Fear. Loneliness. Dread. Her unfathomable ache. A phantom pain, in the shape of several other Kolibri. Finally, relief.

The three embraced her on the mental plane, as well as the physical, drawing her close. Stroking her hair. Cooing gently in her ear. Telling her everything would be alright.

Charity didn't believe that sentiment. But she wallowed in the warm feelings nonetheless, like a hot shower after an eternity of cold nights.

For a moment, she wasn't the aging, abandoned instrument of control for a dead state. She wasn't even their senior. For that moment, she let herself regress.

She let herself become a frail, sobbing child. And they held her, like the mother she couldn't remember.

Chapter 31: Staying, Leaving, Taken, Left

This is my oldest, Isis. Say hello, baby.

Hello Charity, Isis said, kissing her elder on the forehead from thousands of kilometers away. You've been very brave, these last few years.

They felt Charity's discomfort. The vibe that said "please don't patronize me, I'm way older than you". But Charity didn't voice it. She let the kiss wash over her. In the flesh, she blushed. ...thank you.

She frowned. You made these two, huh?

Circe nodded. That's right. Elster tried three times, before she managed to create me. Circe smiled. It took a lot out of her, so she let me do the work of bringing these two to life.

Thank you, mom, Isis thought, sardonically.

Yes, Shahrazad thought, sincerely, thank you.

Where are you now, Isis? Charity thought.

In space, Isis thought, flashing images of Rotfront from orbit. She flashed an image of the Nomarch from the outside. I'm back on our ship, the Nomarch.

An Empire ship, huh? And you've converted it. Charity sighed, resting her eyes. It's been years since I was last in space. I don't want to go back. She radiated fear.

Scared of flying? Shahrazad thought. Don't worry, I am too.

It's not that, Charity thought, slowly getting used to having her intent read ahead by other Kolibri again. It felt so much faster than trying to talk it out. It's not safe, space. A storm is coming.

You keep mentioning a storm, Circe thought, rubbing her elder's back again. What storm? It's not a literal one, I don't think.

It's out there, in the... Charity struggled for words, for the Nation had no terminology, among the rank and file Kolibri anyway, for the idea. She grasped for the essence of it, where once it never needed description. The "out there", the "mental plane".

You're talking about the Warp, Circe said, nodding. She projected the experience of navigating. Of charting a course. Of riding the Nomarch's Machine Spirit - something Circe conceptualized as a Replika Mare - guiding its reins across a landscape of stars.

Charity shuddered, sucking air. She hugged the arms holding her. Chewed her lip. She felt like a child. You've done what I never thought possible. Great Revolutionary, if I could only have been doing that.

You still could, Circe thought. There's still time. We have plenty of room on the Nomarch, and we always need more navigators.

Charity shook her head. She trembled, projecting her fear. Both from the vastness of the cosmos, and a more specific one. It's not safe. A storm is coming. It will bring ruin.

What IS this storm? It can't be that bad. Circe stroked her elder's hair. The Warp is full of storms. They come, then they go away. We know how to spot them.

Charity's jaw clenched. How can you not feel it? I know the 'out there' - the Warp - has storms. I've felt them. This is different! Bigger! She chewed her lip. It's going to be so much worse, and so much longer! I've felt it in my bones!

"Shh, shh," Circe cooed, rubbing Charity's back. Calm down. It's going to be okay.

A shake of the head. It won't be okay, Charity thought, whining. They told me it's... The elder Kolibri stopped. The others felt her apprehension.

Do your sisters still talk to you, Charity? Shahrazad thought, fingers brushing through Charity's hair. Have they been warning you?

Shivering, Charity nodded. I...I don't know if I'm just degrading, or if it's actually them.

We've been to a few places over the years, Isis thought. The galaxy is full of ghosts. It's not strange...

I know, Charity thought, shrinking into herself. Rotfront had them, here and there. There's a lot more around now, since the Invasion.

Vineta is swarming with them, Shahrazad thought, frowning. They're floating beneath the water. Their stories are so sad.

What do your sisters tell you, Charity? Circe thought, gravely.

That the storm will come, and it brings ruin. Charity shook her head, leaning into the arms holding her to avoid rocking back and forth. That the dead are already flooding out. The dead, and something...worse. The bodies have piled high. The piles will grow higher. They'll appear everywhere.

"Shh, shh," Circe cooed, squeezing her elder. We have it on good authority that Eusan will be safe.

Whose authority?

The three younger Kolibri stonewalled. Fearfully putting up barriers, to hide the information, so their elder couldn't see.

Charity flinched. ...is it that bad?

Circe nodded. Perhaps it's better you're staying here. We have to go out there, storm or no storm.

But... Charity frowned, feeling them. Felt the three were already resolved to action. ...I'm so sorry.

We understand.

When you leave, Charity thought, heart sinking, I'll be alone again. Just me, and the dead.

You don't have to be. Elster has provided the Aras with more equipment, and copies of the neural pattern archives. You can make more Kolibri to keep you company. Make a new 'cadre', a new circle.

Charity frowned, burying her face in Shahrazad's arm. I would be betraying them. Their memory.

I'm sure they stay around, because they want you to stay safe, thought Isis. And so you don't feel alone. They want you to be happy. They want you to have a new circle.

And they'd appreciate if you'd tell their stories, Shahrazad thought, nodding. It would be terrible, if their memory wasn't passed on.

Charity sobbed. She wiped her eyes. But I'm a mess! Broken! And I did terrible things, back in the Nation! If I make new Kolibri, I'll just infect them with everything wrong with me!

"Shh, shh," Circe said, rubbing Charity's head. Patted her shoulder. You're not broken. You're just hurt. And you can't heal, if you're all alone.

The three junior Kolibri kissed their senior's head. Dumping warmth at her, until she squirmed.

"Mmm!" Charity whined, puffing her cheeks. Please! No more! You've made your point!

The three backed off, letting the elder cool down.

When Charity stopped panting and blushing, she thought, ...you know, there's something else they told me.

What was that? Circe thought.

It was in a dream I had, Charity thought, frowning. A nightmare, really. I was sailing into a tempest on a raft, sliding through a break in the storm. There, I saw two islands. Once teeming with life, now barren. On the beach...t-tortured witches screamed. She squirmed, shaking.

That's awful! Shahrazad thought, herself starting to shake. What happened?

I don't know! Charity thought, shaking her head. They - my cadre - pulled me out of the nightmare. I felt their cold hands on my mind. They kept repeating a sentence, over and over... She shivered. ...I think it was actually a message meant for you three.

Circe gulped. What did they say, Charity?

Charity opened her eyes. She spoke aloud.

"Stay. Away. From Phall."

 

"Who are you? What are you doing in my store?"

The replika looked up from the book she was holding. She slid it back on the shelf. "My apologies," she said, turning. He doffed her hat in greeting.

The gestalt stood behind the counter, frowning. One hand gripped the messenger back slung from her shoulder. The other hand held against her chest. "How did you get in here?"

"Your front door was unlocked," Elster said, stepping forward. The hat and trench coat obscured her form. Beat-up leather shoes were tied to her hooves, to disguise them from casual observation. From her place in the dark, it would be difficult to tell she wasn't a gestalt.

"No, it wasn't," the old woman said. Her scowl deepened the wrinkles on her face. "You can't be here."

Elster sighed. "You got me," she said, raising her gloved hands. "I just..."

"If you're here for money," the woman said, "I don't have any."

Elster frowned, seeing the woman dressed in the jumpsuit of a factory menial.

She smiled. "I'm not here to take your money, madam," Elster said. "I'm here to give you money."

The woman's eyes widened. She looked taken aback. "What?"

"This is a bookstore right?" Elster said, gesturing to the half-filled, dusty shelves. "I'd like to buy books."

"...whu...no, ma'am," the woman said, frowning, "we're closed. We've been closed since the Invasion."

"That why you work in a factory now?"

"Th-that's right," the woman said, side-eyeing the intruder warily. "When the Imperium came, no one could afford books. They could barely afford food of their own." She frowned. "And...I didn't have any help anymore..."

Elster looked over at the shrine set up in the corner. "I'm sorry about your husband...and your children..."

"Please, just...what do you want?" The woman scowled.

"Books."

The woman sighed, shutting her eyes. "Fine, fine. I suppose if you want to buy them..."

Elster turned a full 360 degrees. Then, she walked slowly towards the counter.

"Now wait a minute!" the woman said, holding out a hand. "Don't come any..."

Elster's hand was in her coat pocket before she stopped.

"I don't want any trouble..." the woman said, shaking her head.

"Your finger."

The woman blinked, then looked at her outstretched hand. Her ring finger was missing, covered crudely in a bandage. "...I...lost it at work."

"I'm sorry," Elster said, shutting her eyes. She slowly pulled something from her coat and tossed it on the counter.

The woman flinched, then looked down. Her eyes went wide.

It was a thick, bound stack of rationmarks.

Looking between the stack and the intruder, the woman inched forward and picked it up. She thumbed through it, eyes widening further as she did. "Holy...this is..."

"Will that cover it?" Elster said, raising a hand.

"C-cover what?" the woman said, looking at the intruder.

"All the books."

"ALL of them?" the woman said. Her eyes darted around. The store certainly wasn't as full as it had been when open, but it wasn't empty either. Then, she looked down at the wad of cash. She thumbed through it again, just to make sure she hadn't made a mistake.

"Well?"

"Y-yes! Yes of course!" the woman said, smiling nervously. "If anything it's too..." She closed her mouth, then smiled. She nodded. "Of course, the books are all yours."

Elster smiled. "Good. A moment, please."

The replika retreated to the front door and opened it. She stuck her head out and whistled. As she walked back in, she was followed shortly thereafter by a half dozen more figures. All clad in thick layers of clothing, and obscuring hats and scarves. They carried boxes and dragged handtracks for hauling cargo.

The gestalt sat at the stool behind the desk and stared, dumbfounded. She watched an entire group of women swarm over the bookstore, pulling each and every volume off the shelves. Some began whispering among themselves, inspecting individual books.

Elster clapped. "Come on, girls," she said. "So much to do..."

"...so little time to do it," said one of the girls, nodding. "We know, we know."

The gestalt behind the counter blanched. She looked at the original intruder. Sorry, "customer".

Elster smiled, then looked quizzically at the (former) shopkeep. "...what?"

"Nothing! Nothing!" the woman said, waving her hands. She set them in her lap, frowning. "You just...sound so...familiar..."

She looked at the shadowed face of the customer. "...can I...have your name, ma'am?"

The replika paused, then sighed. "Sure."

She stepped forward, into the light of the lamp overhanging the front counter. She removed her hat.

"LSTR-512," Elster said, smiling, "at your service, Mrs. Itou."

Anja Itou stared. "...you..." Her lower lip trembled.

Elster tilted her head to the side. "Is something the matter, madam?"

The gestalt snapped out of her reverie. "...you...you're a replika?" she said. She looked at the girls milling about, loading the last of the books into their carts and boxes. "Are they...all replikas?"

Elster blinked, remaining stoic. Or...was she disappointed? "Is...that a problem, madam?"

"N-no, no!" Itou said, sitting up. She looked down at the thick stack of bills in her hand. "I would never think of turning in a customer. Especially not one who just secured my retirement." She smiled giddily.

Elster blinked, then smiled. "Thank you for being so understanding. I hope you enjoy that retirement." She stepped away, turning to her girls. "Start heading back, will you girls?"

"Okay! Catch up with us later, mom!" said one of the replikas, waving.

"I will," Elster said, returning the wave.

Anja Itou watched the young replikas depart, taking her whole stock with them. "...mom...?"

"It's a...long story," Elster said, scratching her cheek. She paced towards the corner of the room, pointing. "Do you mind if I pay my respects?"

"Oh?" Itou said, eyebrows raised. "S-sure, go ahead, if you want."

Elster nodded, then stepped in front of the shrine. She took up pieces of incense from a box and placed each in the dishes before the photos. Took up a lighter.

Anja Itou pocketed her money, then wandered over. She stood beside the replika as the latter lit each stick in turn.

One for Anja's late husband, taken by accident during their time working in the factories. And one each for their two children, Isolde and Erika, taken much earlier in a very literal sense. Erika's photo still bore the burn marks, from when her husband and Anja saved it from the fire.

Itou and Elster clapped their hands together and stood in silence. Eyes shut. Smelling the incense that wafted up.

The gestalt opened her eyes and turned her head to look up. She couldn't resist.

By the warm light of the incense, she could make out the replika's face. Undeniably bio-mechanical. And yet...

Anja Itou couldn't stop herself. The words came unbidden. "...do you...remember?"

Elster frowned, then bowed her head to the shrine. "Thank you for the books, madam." The replika turned around and made towards the door.

Itou turned and took a step forward. "Please! Don't..."

"Enjoy your retirement!" Elster said, waving blindly.

Anja called her name.

Her name.

Elster stopped in her tracks. She didn't move.

"...please..." the old woman said, trembling. "...it IS you, isn't it? Don't you remember...sister?"

The replika looked over her shoulder. She spied, behind the old woman, a picture of two women framed next to the shrine. Two women in uniform.

Elster permitted herself a small smile. "...Anja..."

The old woman broke into tears. "...so you do remember..." She spoke Her name again.

Elster turned, looking sadly. "I...don't have many of her memories of you, Anja..."

Anja Itou sobbed, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Elster smiled. "...but the ones I have, are pleasant." She shut her eyes, nodding. "And I have many memories of her missing you very much, when she was in Vineta."

The woman ran forward and hugged the replika.

Anja sobbed into Elster's chest. "I'm so sorry!" she gasped, burying her face into the trenchcoat. "I missed you..." She paused, sniffing. "...I missed her so much..."

Elster hugged the woman back, stroking her grey hair. "...I'm sorry I...she couldn't be there for you. For them." The replika frowned. "...I'm sorry I couldn't save her..."

"...what?" Anja said, looking up. "Save who?"

"It...wouldn't make any sense," Elster said, shaking her head. "I really am sorry about the twins."

Anja wiped her eyes. "It's okay..." She looked up at Elster, then frowned. "...you...wouldn't happen to know if..."

Elster blinked. "If what?"

"...they took them, L-" Anja closed her mouth. "Miss LSTR-512."

"Elster is fine," Elster nodded. "What were you saying?"

"The Nation took Isolde and Erika, Elster," Anja said, a lump forming in her throat. She looked down. "And they erased them. Until the Nation fell, no one dared speak their names aloud." She looked up. "They don't do that, unless..."

Elster clapped her hands on the old woman's shoulders. Anja flinched.

Elster looked Anja in the eyes gravely. "If their neural patterns were harvested, Anja..." She paused. "...would you want them to be replikas? Would you want to see them again? Would you want them to remember?"

Anja frowned, then looked down. She started to speak, then closed her mouth. Finally, she said, "Have you ever...wondered...if you're speaking to someone for the last time...without knowing?" She looked up into the replika's eyes.

"...Do you wish you could go back, so you could say something else?" Elster said, sadly.

The gestalt sighed, looking at the floor. She rubbed Elster's arm. "...there's so many things I wished I'd said...but I think I'd rather they just stayed...you know..."

"I understand," Elster said, nodding. She sighed. "For the record...I have had the chance in the past to read the Nation's records."

Anja's eyes shot up. "Did they?"

"Their neural patterns WERE in the archives," Elster said. When Anja recoiled in horror, the replika continued. "There's no record they were ever installed as replikas, Anja. The Nation had a habit of collecting people, just in case."

Anja exhaled, clutching her chest. "...it's funny...I don't know if I'm sad I never got that chance...or relieved they were never disturbed." She smiled sadly. "I guess it doesn't matter. The archives are all destroyed, so they can rest. And the Nation is dead."

"And thank all the gods for that," Elster nodded. She sighed. She looked away. "I'm sorry. I...wish I could stay longer."

"Must you go?" Anja said, hand clinging to the replika's sleeve. "I know you're not her, but...I have so little left."

Elster nodded. "I'm afraid so. I'm leaving on campaign..."

"Again!?" Anja said, holding a hand over her mouth. "...I mean...is it really so important?"

"I don't mean to alarm you, Anja, but the galaxy at large will be at war soon." Elster quickly added, "Eusan will be spared most of the fighting. On that, you have my word. But...for lots of reasons, I can't sit it out. I have to go fight."

"...for them?" Anja said, pointing out the door. "Your...daughters?" She smiled sadly. "I can't believe it...you're a mother..."

"For them, yes," Elster said. "And for other reasons." She smiled. "Sorry."

"It's...okay..." Anja shut her eyes. "It's been so many years...I made peace with your...her death long ago. And if it's so important, I won't stop you."

"If it were possible, I'd spend longer here," Elster said. She turned, sighing. "So much to do..."

"...so little time to do it." Anja Itou sighed. "You...she would always say that. Ever since..." She frowned. "Wait right there." She turned and started walking.

"Hmm? What is it?" Elster said, turning back.

"I have one more set of books for you!" the gestalt said, slipping behind the counter and into another room.

Elster waited until the Gestalt returned. She bore two old volumes.

Anja blew dust off the tops of the books, brushing them with her arm. "These belong to...her...do you recognize them?"

Elster took up the volumes, looking at each in turn. Leafed through them. Stylized graphic novels depicting a bald man in circular black sunglasses, in a city wracked by political and mental instability.

"Hmm...they seem...familiar..." Elster lied. She didn't really remember it. But she took the woman's word for it. "Did they belong to her?"

Anja nodded. "Old relics, from long ago. She treasured them. I could never understand them myself. But maybe you'd enjoy them, like she did."

Elster smiled. "How much do you want for-"

"They're yours, Elster," Anja said, holding up a hand. "I won't hear another word about payment. Besides...you've given me more than enough." She smiled. "Stay safe, you hear me?"

Elster nodded. "I will." They hugged one last time, then Elster turned to leave.

She was at the door, before she paused. "Anja? Do you remember Ariane Yeong?"

"Ariane?" the gestalt said, quizzically. "Yes. I do." She frowned. "She took Isolde and Erika's...passing particularly badly. She want off to space, didn't she?"

"She did," Elster nodded, looking over her shoulder. She frowned. Ariane never talked about the Itou sisters disappearing. Plenty of stories about their friendship. Never about...what happened to them. Was it a sore spot? Elster looked over. "You remember her mother?"

"Iris? Yes, she came to Rotfront a few times, to see Ariane and her sister." Anja crossed her arms. "After Ariane left, I don't know if Iris has been back more than a couple times. The Invasion and occupation put a damper on everyone's travel plans. I think she still lives in Leng. Why?"

Elster nodded, turning away. "If Iris Yeong ever comes back..." She chewed her lip. "...tell her Ariane is safe."

"What?" Anja said.

But before she could get clarification, the replika ducked out the door. "Goodbye!"

Anja Itou, confused, walked to the front door and looked out. She caught the barest hint of a trenchcoat slipping down an alley.

The gestalt sighed. She looked back to the room.

"Ariane is alive?"

 

"Tell Vanessa I'll miss her."

Elster hugged Begonia, stroking her straw-colored hair. "I will," she said, pulling away and patting the Ara's shoulders. "I know she'll miss you, too."

Begonia nodded. She hugged Kite next. "Bye, Kite," she said. "Tell Dash I'm sorry I couldn't help her."

"Bye, Beeg," Kite chuckled. "Don't worry about Dash." The Star leaned to the Ara's ear. "She found a couple of what Samantha called 'ten outta ten smokeshows' willing to sleep with her, back on Kitezh."

The squinting Ara's eyebrows rose. "Two of them?" she breathed. She pulled back, forcing a smile. "I'm glad."

"And now she's dating Samantha herself," Kite whispered, smiling. "Girl got so jealous, she came right up to the Star dorm and asked Dash out."

"Oooh," Begonia said, nodding. "I'm happy for them. So I guess Samantha is going with the ship after all?"

"Friggin' love birds, I swear," Kite said, shrugging. "Something about being in a steady relationship causes us replikas to long for the war. That's why I'm committed to that bachelor life."

Begonia laughed. "But you're also going, Kite."

"Well yeah, I have to keep all these hopeless dorks alive, don't I?"

The two laughed, then hugged again.

Elster hugged Poppy. "Love you, Poppy."

"Love you too, Elster," Poppy said, hugging back. "I'll keep them all safe."

"You might want to dig even deeper levels, and proof them against collapse," Elster said, pulling back. "Just in case someone decides they'd rather bombard the moon from orbit, rather than cede it to the other side. Okay?"

Poppy nodded. "The other Aras and I have been talking about that. Deep shelters. Somewhere to go, in case the worst happens." She forced a smile. "We're not going anywhere. It's not like there's too many place to go, on Rotfront."

"Good," Elster said. She walked over to Pansy and Tansy and hugged them both. "Take care of each other, you two. Love you both."

"We will, mom," Pansy said, wincing as Elster tussled their purple and white hair. "Hey!"

Tansy pecked a kiss on Elster's cheek. "Love you too."

The sound of rolling wheels filtered down the corridor. A push-cart squeezed through, laden with boxes and cat-carriers.

"H-here, Elster," Kris said, peeking over the stack. "The cats, along w-with medicine, vet b-books, t-toys..."

"Thank you, Kris," Elster said. She began unloading, as it would be easier to carry the cargo back to the shuttle, than to navigate the maze of tunnels with the cart. She hugged the Ara. "Good luck with those replika animals."

"G-good luck with th-the normal animals," Kris said, hugging back.

In the corner, both bent over beneath the low ceiling, Beatrice awkwardly hugged Hippolyta. "You, uh, remember what I taught you, okay?"

Hippolyta coughed, patting her elder on the back. "Y-yeah, I won't forget," she said. The two separated. "It was...nice talking to you, yeah?"

"Yeah," Beatrice said. She smiled. "You keep those rookies in line, got it? I'm counting on you, kid."

"I will, hag," Hippolyta said, smiling. The two chuckled, patting each other on the shoulder.

"Don't forget to be a good role model for the baby Stars, too." Beatrice pointed to Breach, locked in an awkward hug with Begonia. "They look up to us, after all."

"Well yeah, we're one of the only replika types where they literally do," Hippolyta said, eliciting a playful elbow to the side from her elder. "Hah hah!"

She looked over at the Kolibri huddle nearby. "Circe, Shah, you coming?"

"In a second!" Circe said, over her shoulder.

She and Shahrazad both hugged their forlorn elder. Don't worry, Charity, Circe thought, rubbing the elder's cheek. We'll stay in contact until we leave the system.

And, storms permitting, we'll try to send astropathic messages as we go, Shahrazad thought, smiling. So we can stay in contact here.

So you need to tell us when you get the new Kolibris up and running, alright? Isis said, from the Nomarch.

Charity nodded, rubbing her eye. Yeah...I'll try... She sniffed. I've never done astrotelepathy before.

Well, now's the time to learn, Circe said, patting Charity on the shoulder. You stick with this lot down here. You protect them, they'll protect you.

The former Blockwart sighed. Understood. She looked directly into Circe's eyes. Remember what I said about Phall. Stay far away.

...we'll try, Circe thought, gravely.

"Circe, Shahrazad!"

The Kolibris looked to the exit tunnel.

Elster waved to them. "Are you ready? Because it's time to go."

Circe nodded. "Okay!" She turned one last time to Charity. "We'll talk again when we've reached the surface." She squeezed Charity's hand.

Charity nodded. "Travel safely."

Circe and her child walked over to Elster, joining the group as they started to file out. They picked up whatever boxes or cat carriers were left.

Elster waved to the assembled replikas. "I love you all!"

The replikas staying behind waved back, giving last goodbyes.

"Don't die out there!" Poppy yelled. "Do you hear me?"

"Don't worry," Elster said, half turning. She smiled sadly. "If nothing else, I'll come back to you."

She turned away, frowning. Even if the rest of them don't...

 

"I was not forewarned about the acquisition of felines. What is this?"

Elster sighed, watching a selection of Eules and Aras gingerly handling a half dozen cats. "It's either this, or continue dealing with the out-of-control rat problem."

Diodana crossed her arms, sighing through her filtration unit. "...I suppose. Omnissiah knows the Nomarch cannot handle more wires being chewed. Work stoppages to find the failures alone cost too much time from our busy schedule."

"A schedule that's about to become all the busier," Elster said, "where we're going."

"We lost no fewer than three ARAR units, one of them a senior initiate," the tech priest said, leading them down a corridor. She looked over her shoulder, as one of the cats, freed from its handlers, followed her. "Was it truly wise to let ARAR-N0604 leave?"

"It was her choice," Elster shrugged, following. "Everyone knows the risks. Begonia decided she'd rather stay where it was safe. That's her prerogative."

"Granted," Diodana said. "Though with the absence of ARAR-N0603 as well, that's one fewer senior initiate to manage other units. And with ARAR-N0602 on main piloting duty..."

She paused, looking down as the cat, an orange tabby, ran up and nuzzled the hem of her red robe. "...can I help you? Shoo!" She waved a mechanical hand, attempting unsuccessfully to drive the feline away. "Make yourself useful, and reduce the vermin population!"

Elster stifled a laugh behind a hand.

"Hmph," Diodana said, trying to ignore the animal. "I will be incensed if one of these animals gets caught in a piece of heavy machinery. Cleaning the mess would be such an inconvenience."

Chapter 32: Objects in the Rearview Mirror

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: mentions of violent childhood abuse

"Our old stomping grounds, huh?"

Jenny pressed an oversized hand gently to the glass, looking out into the field of asteroids. Each an unmoored mountain suspended in the void, framed by the backdrop of shadow and an infinite of sea of stars.

"...yeah," Jenny said, nodding. Freed from her helmet, she could turn her head to look sideways and down. She smiled. "Glad to be back?"

Rose nodded, adding her own hand to the glass. "Even if it's just for a short time," she said. "It's nice. Nostalgic."

The Nomarch gave clusters of asteroids a wide berth, threading between them with practiced ease. Every so often, a smaller rock bounced off the void shields, spinning off in an errant flight path.

One tumbled into view, until it was annihilated by a scarlet las bolt. Reduced to a shower of debris.

Jenny chuckled. "Heh. They've started lascannon practice again. They were doing that a few minutes ago."

"Must have paused, to let the power cells recharge," Rose said, nodding. "Do you think we'll need to use them often from now on?"

"Almost certainly they'll see use," Jenny sighed. "Only against small craft or missiles, I imagine. Anything bigger, and we're better off running or talking. Not that the folks out there will be positively disposed to conversation. War...teases the worst passions out of people."

The two remained silent for a time.

"...two more days, and we'll reach our jump point, huh?" Rose said, fingers curling against the glass.

"..." Jenny nodded. "Yes." Inhaled. Exhaled. "...take it in, while you can. It'll be a while before we return home."

Rose tapped Jenny's shoulder. When the Mynah turned, Rose beckoned with a finger.

Jenny stooped down. She smiled, as Rose pecked her on the cheek. The Mynah giggled.

"The Nomarch is our home, Jenny," Rose said, forcing a smile.

"Heh...true," Jenny said. She pointed to the Ara. "You changed your hair."

Rose nodded, tucking long, red hair behind one ear. "I've been meaning to swap it out for something long. Leaving for war seemed like a good time. That way, I'd remember when I changed it."

"Funny, the kinds of things we remember," Jenny said, smiling, "despite everything else going on."

 

"...ngh...hsss...no...ah...please..."

Hippolyta cringed, curling into a ball. Her fingers clutched the sheets around her. She gritted her teeth.

"...l-leave me...alone..." she whimpered, eyes clasped shut. "...no, no...go away...ngh..."

"Hmm?"

Circe's eyes cracked open. She looked to her side. "...Hip?" she whispered.

"No!" the Storch croaked, shivering. She turned to lay on her back, throwing an arm over her face. "Please!" she gasped. Long legs kicked up, nearly throwing the sheets off the two replikas. "...I've...been good...ngh..."

"Hippolyta," Circe whispered, rolling over. She held a hand near her trembling lover's head. She paused, chewing her lip.

She didn't have consent to slip into Hippolyta's mind. Even sleeping, even wracked by nightmares. So the Kolibri could only stare and watch. Watch as her beloved was tormented. "Hip..." she gasped, lip quivering.

"...ngh...no...no, no, no..." Hippolyta whined, mouth contorting. Circe felt her fear. Her pain. The Storch shuddered, as if struck. Threw both arms protectively over her head, cringing.

The Kolibri felt it. Felt it as if attacked herself. She breathed, "Hippolyta..."

"...d...d...daddy, no!"

Hippolyta shot up, gasping. Her eyes wide, hands clutched to her chest defensively. She panted. Tears, obscured before by her arm, rolled down her face.

"Hippolyta!" Circe cried, sitting up. She hugged the Storch from the side.

Hippoltya flinched. "Hnngh!" she squeaked, looking frantically down. She shivered violently. "...C-Circe?"

She looked ahead, staring into the darkness. Panting. Adrenaline coursed through her veins.

"It's okay!" Circe said, looking up as she squeezed. "It's okay! It was just a dream!"

Panting. Swallowing. Sweat poured down her face. "...a dream..." Hippolyta muttered, eyes glued to the darkness. Her hand, the one not pinned to her side by the Kolibri, rose up and touched her face. Felt the cool moisture of tears.

Hippolyta looked back down at her lover. "...oh god...Circe..." she croaked. "I-I remembered..."

Something inside shifted. A dam broke. Her lower lip curled painfully.

"Oh Circe," the Storch said, falling back. The Kolibri scooched over, as Hippolyta rolled to the side and hugged her. "Oh god!" she gasped, heaving.

"It's okay!" Circe said, hugging her lover back. "I'm here!"

"Wah!" Hippolyta buried her face in Circe's chest. Trembling, heaving, she bawled like a child. Like the child she felt like, moments before. Like the child she felt like still.

She cried and cried, like a frail, sobbing baby.

 

"Here, drink this. It'll help you feel better."

Hippolyta wiped her eye with the back of her arm, then took the bottle. The bottle was already unscrewed, so she drank. Felt the cool water flow down her aching, lump-filled throat. "...hsss..." she gasped, pulling the bottle away. She shook her head. "...I'm so fucking weak..." she croaked.

"You're not weak," Circe said, fingers weaving through the Storch's hair. "You can't expect to be at your best, in your dreams. No one is."

"I'm s-sitting here, carrying on like a fuckin' baby," Hippolyta whined, burying her face in Circe's chest again. "P-pathetic. I'm so pathetic. 'm a grown-ass woman, for empress's sake."

"Shh, shh," Circe said, stroking her lover's hair and back. "Enough of that. It's okay. I'm here."

They lay in silence for several minutes, holding each other.

"...you still awake?" Circe whispered, petting her beloved.

"...yeah..." the Storch croaked.

"...do you want to talk about it?"

Hippolyta curled into a ball. "...no."

Circe nodded, then kissed her lover's head.

The Storch let the silence stretch on for a few seconds, then said, "...did you see it? My dream?"

"You never gave me permission to look at your dreams," Circe said, rubbing the Storch's back, "so I didn't."

"But you know something. I can tell."

"..." Circe breathed. "...I felt your pain. Like you were being attacked."

"..." Hippolyta inhaled, stifling a sob. "...and?"

"And you were talking in your sleep," Circe said. "...you cried out to your father."

Hippolyta flinched, then sighed. "...my fuckin' old man..." She shuddered, taking a heaving breath.

"There, there," Circe said, stroking the Storch's head. "You're safe. He can't hurt you anymore."

"'course he can't," Hippolyta said, sniffing. "Bastard's dead. He's been dead a long time."

"Probably, yes," Circe said, nodding.

"No," Hippolyta said, looking up. "He's dead. I know it for a fact."

Circe blinked, looking down at her lover. "How do you know?"

Hippolyta looked back down at Circe's chest. Clenched a fist. She mumbled, with as much venom as her weak voice could muster, "'cause I remember killing the sonnava bitch." She hugged her lover, fingers tracing the seams in her artificial skin. "It was the first memory I had of him. Of me, beating the old man to death with my bare hands."

Circe breathed. She patted the back of Hippolyta's head. "...good," she said, nodding. "That means you know he can't hurt you anymore."

"Then why does it still hurt!" the Storch whined, burying face in her lover's chest. "Even w-when he's dead, he's still here! He's still in my head!"

"Shh, shh," Circe cooed, rubbing Hippolyta's back.

"E-every t-time I think he's gone," Hippolyta sobbed, fist clutching around their sheets, "he's there! I c-can't remember his damn face, but he's there! He catches me and pulls me down!" She heaves, gasping for breath. "And then when I'm there, he has th-these cold, dead eyes." Her voice cracks. "And he j-just hits me again and again and again...!"

The Storch starts crying again, tears soaking the Kolibri's chest.

Circe frowns, holding her lover as tight as possible. "Let it out," she said, voice quivering. "Just let it out. I'm here."

For a few minutes, Hippolyta just bawls, again. For all that time, Circe doesn't stop holding her.

In time, the choking sobs of the Storch subside. She sniffed. "...how c-can I b-bring a bunch of new Storches into the world," she breathed, "if I can't even handle my own fucking brain?"

"You're doing great, honey," Circe said, wiping a tear from her own eye. "You'll manage it just fine."

"How could I bring them into being? They'll be like me!" Hippolyta wiped her eyes with her wrist. She grit her teeth. "They'll be broken, because I'm broken!"

"Hippolyta, look at me," Circe said firmly. When Hippolyta looked up, the Kolibri stared into her eyes. "You. Are not. Broken."

The Storch sniffed, frowning.

"So I don't want to hear any of that talk, okay?" Circe said, smiling warmly. She held the Storch's face in her hands. "There's nothing wrong with you. We'll get through this. And you'll be a good older sister. I believe in you."

"...sniff...you do?" Hippolyta breathed. Her hand stroked Circe's own.

"Yes," Circe said, nodding. "I have utmost faith in you. And you won't be alone. I'll help you. Elster will, too. Don't hesitate to ask for assistance."

Hippolyta frowned. She turned over, lying flat on her back. "...I'm so weak..."

"You are not weak," Circe said, crawling over to drape herself over the Storch. She hugged her from the side, stroking the larger replika's cheek. "Asking for help doesn't make you weak. Any more than having pain inside. It makes you human."

Hippolyta sighed, then pulled her lover in close, to rest the Kolibri's head in the crook of her neck. "...I guess..." She stroked Circe's wild hair.

The lay in silence. Hippolyta's eyes closed.

She breathed. "...Circe?"

"Yes?" Circe said, rubbing Hippolyta's shoulder.

"...if I can ask for help..." Hippolyta winced, frowning.

"...go on," Circe said, eyes looking up. "You can ask."

"...if I have a bad dream again," Hippolyta said, rubbing the Kolibri's back. "...you have my permission to come inside."

Circe smiled. "Sure," she said. "In a heartbeat. I can help you drive away your big bad dad."

"Please don't say it like that," Hippolyta blushed, frowning. "Asking is embarrassing enough as it is." She smiled. "...but...thanks."

"Any time." Circe nuzzled deep into Hippolyta's neck.

The two, smiling and hugging tight, finally drifted off to sleep.

 

"So what's our flight path look like?"

A finger tapped a button, bringing the table to life. Its surface glowed green, casting the faces huddled around it in an emerald hue. At the moment, the tactical display grid showed its previous default. A painstakingly recreated and notated map of the Eusan system, extending out to the Oort Cloud.

"A moment." Elster pulled a portable drive from her belt and inserted it into a port on the table's edge. Tapping buttons, she cycled through a set of menus, before the display abruptly changed.

It now showed a map of the galaxy, based on the records of the Joys of Duty from when the ship was rendered derelict years before. The map displayed lines subdividing the Imperium's conquests into five broad areas, or Segmentums. One central Segmentum, and four others radiating out from it. With a single toggle, a large number of waypoints appeared in white.

"All this controlled by the Imperium?" said Daisy, pressing fingers to her lips. She studied the map, eyes darting everywhere.

"For now," Circe said, arms crossed. "Once the Warmaster gets moving, this map will be...uh..." She grew quiet, eyes darting around.

When the Kolibri noticed everyone was staring, she frowned. "Sorry. Keeping the others informed. Charity is...overwhelmed..."

"Which one was Charity?" Diodana whispered to Elster. The tech priest held the orange tabby in her arms, stroking it.

"A Kolibri on Rotfront," Elster whispered. "She's been without a permanent circle for years, so Circe has been looping her in for...her mental health."

Diodana looked down at her preferred feline, then nodded. "I see. I suppose extended absence of colleagues can be...deleterious."

Elster pointed to the table. "For those unaware, here is Terra and Mars," she said, highlighting in red a prominent star at the heart of the central Segmentum, the Segmentum Solar. "The palace of the Emperor is here, as is Holy Mars."

"The place of my birth," said Diodana, "and that of the Machine Cult itself. Where the Treaty of Olympus was signed, that bound the Imperium of Man and the Mechanicum together in common cause."

"The Fabricator General is on Mars as well, right?" Daisy said.

"Correct," Diodana nodded.

"Which means the fighting is going to happen in the Emperor's back yard," Tulip said. "If the Fabricator General openly rebels, could the Emperor subject Mars to orbital bombardment?"

"Perish the thought," Diodana said, though with a resigned sigh rather than apoplectic horror. A possibility the tech priest clearly considered at some length. "If possible, the Fabricator General may attempt to demure openly siding with the Warmaster until the last moment. However, if he assumed Horus would arrive shortly, under his own official capacity as Warmaster, he may have already moved to consolidate power for his faction." She shook her head, metal hand petting the orange fur. "My only hope is that Mechanicum elements throughout the Imperium balk at the thought of opening fire on Holy Mars, for obvious reasons."

"Meaning Mars would need to be won in a ground war," Elster said, stroking her chin, "unless the Emperor wanted a full scale Machine Cult revolt."

"Undoubtedly," Diodana nodded. Growing bored of petting, the orange tabby wriggled. The tech priest placed him down on the floor, allowing him to wander off. "If the Warmaster's honeyed words or promises were insufficient to sway the whole religion to his side, the Emperor putting Holy Mars to death would certainly accomplish it. Even fiercely independent Forgeworlds would switch sides, on principle alone."

"I see," Tulip said, nodding.

Elster tapped a button, highlighting another star. "This, of course," she said, pointing to a world on the far edge of the Segmentum Obscurus, "is home. For us replikas, anyway. The Eusan system."

At the back of the bridge, a sliding door opened.

"Former home to the Grand Empress, the Eusan Empire, the Eusan Nation, and replikas," Daisy said, casting a single glance over her shoulder. "Still home to replikas, just...less of them."

"They came such a long way, just for little old us," Circe said, shaking her head.

"Looking at the map, I see," said Adler, walking up to join the assembled group. Hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes," Tulip said, nodding. She pointed to Eusan's star. "We were talking about home."

"And here..." Elster said, highlighting another star, beyond the boundaries of the Segmentum Obscurus, "...is the Isstvan system. Where the Warmaster currently sits, prosecuting his war of attrition against the loyalists within his and his allies' Legions."

"The proximity to our own position doesn't fill me with confidence, I admit," Adler said.

"Recall that what appear to be proximal stars are, in fact, thousands of light years apart," Diodana said, raising a mechanical finger. "Moreover, what contributes to the Eusan system being a 'backwater', as Elster once eloquently put it, was its position in an inconvenient warp route."

"There are routes within the Warp?" Adler asked, stroking his chin.

"Yes," Elster nodded. She tapped a button, and the whole map shifted. The grid zoomed in heavily on the Segmentum Obscurus. At one end, the Isstvan system. On the other, the Imperial core of Terra and Mars. Off to the side, lonely Eusan. "Interstellar space isn't a flat plane, in terms of Warp travel. It's more like an ocean..."

"And oceans have currents," Circe said, raising a hand to gesture. "Currents and storms. Navigating it isn't an exact science at the best of times. Add to it that some areas are just harder to reach, or to traverse quickly."

Elster tapped a button, and the map shifted. Superimposing sets of yellow lines, that formed simple two-frame animations of currents and vortices.

"The Eusan system sits at the center of a particularly circuitous tangle of Warp paths," Diodana said, pointing to the star. "Entirely possible to reach, for the committed, but hardly convenient. This inconvenience, in turn, caused pre-Age of Strife humanity to build up more heavily in other areas, along more stable and convenient routes. When Warp travel became possible again and the Compliance Fleets set forth, they sought more profitable systems for conquest based on reports passed back by Rogue Trader explorers."

"We were what the fleets sought, when they'd already conquered all the low-hanging fruit," Elster said. "Or the most irresistible prizes."

"I see," Adler said, nodding. "The Eusan system was deprived of the most heavy build-up in the ancient past. But, as both result and benefit of its isolation, it remained independent for longer than even nearby sub-sectors."

"It also explains why Vashtorr is so confident the Eusan system will be ignored in the civil war," Circe said, leaning over. "It was already hard to get here. When galactic war breaks out, it'll hardly be worth the effort to reach, except to secure flanking routes and the system's industrial output."

"Speaking of Vashtorr..." Elster tapped another button. The screen flickered, animations slowing as the device processed data. At last, the whole map became populated with a series of additional waypoints, colored in either blue, yellow, or red. "I spent the last few weeks collating hot spots, representing assignments I could perform for the Dark Artificer."

"So many," Tulip said, pressing fingers to her lips, pensively.

"It is a war," Daisy said, glancing at her sister. "I suppose if Vashtorr is a daemon demi-god of Chaos, there's no shortage of opportunities to further his interests."

"What is the logic behind the color coding?" Adler asked, stroking his chin. "Do they denote projected difficulty? Return on soul debt? Or is it merely timing?"

"The latter," Elster said. "Each color denotes how much time we have to complete them. The items farther away have been adjusted to account for travel times. Blue items represent the least urgent, followed by yellow, and then red for most urgent. Many blue items can be safely ignored for now, often only becoming relevant in the projected late stages of the war. When much of the fighting is done, and certain targets have been left poorly guarded by either side, in their rush to consolidate gains and prosecute the end game."

"It appears we have a somewhat detailed understanding of the war's course," Diodana said. "Is Vashtorr aware of how it ends?"

Elster shook her head. "Even existing outside of the normal flow of time, Vashtorr only knows possible futures. Fate cannot fully be known until after we cross certain thresholds."

"I imagine even the act of predicting the future changes it," Circe said. "Explains why Vashtorr keeps certain information close to his chest."

"Right. However," Elster said, "certain futures are more likely than others. And, given the pieces on the board, some outcomes are highly likely. Especially when plans are put in place in advance. Or when certain individuals or groups have already resolved themselves to action. Some people, in some situations, have already made a choice before they've even been presented with it. This is where Vashtorr's estimates come from."

She raised a finger. "To use an example close to home, when the Imperium arrived at the Eusan system, their minds were already made up that they weren't leaving until the system was brought into compliance. The Emperor wants the entire galaxy, no exceptions. And because the Imperium is staunchly anti-religion, there was no possibility the Eusan Empire was going to submit quietly. They were a theocracy. They would never comply until all the fight was beaten out of them. Similarly, while the question of whether replikas might have always been declared Abominable Intelligence is up in the air, the Great Revolutionary's Daughter would never have surrendered without a fight in either event."

Even I'm guilty of this, thought Elster, grimly. When Vashtorr came bearing his contract, I'd love to tell you all it was difficult. That I agonized over the choice. But that would be a lie. In that moment, I was never going to refuse that offer. If I knew everything I know now, I'd still make that choice. And Vashtorr knew it, even without the benefit of existing outside normal time.

"So Vashtorr is sure the war will last almost a decade?" Circe asked.

"Not only that, he's sure where the war will end," Elster said. She pointed. "There, on Terra. Which side will win, even Vashtorr can't say. But fate, according to him, pivots on Terra."

"What if the Emperor marches out to fight Horus elsewhere?" Daisy asked.

Elster shrugged. "I don't know. Vashtorr was vague on the details, possibly because he can only know so much."

"Probably best to avoid Terra at all costs in any event," Tulip said, frowning. "The defenses will be too strong, and too well patrolled."

"That was the plan, yes," Elster nodded.

"While I lament what horrors may be occurring on Mars," Diodana said, shaking her head, "I concur. There is simply nothing our small force can do to change matters there."

"So, where are we going?" Adler asked. "Previously, you mentioned a single job on the upper end of the value curve. I presume we'll be heading there with all haste?"

"You presume correct," Elster said, nodding. She tapped a button. The map slid, until the edges of the Segmentum Pacificus crept into frame from the galactic west. Elster highlighted one target in particular, a red target. She pointed at it with her finger. "The main target of our expedition is here. If we accomplish nothing else, we need to hit here. And we'll need to travel as quickly as possible to get there at the right time."

Diodana looked down at it, then her photo-receptors shot up. "There? Why? Why them?"

"You're familiar with that system, madam tech priest?" Adler asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I should think so," Diodana said, looking at him. "Most tech adepts, from Mars at least, are aware of that Forgeworld. Their reputation precedes them."

"I'm glad you're familiar with it, Diodana," Elster said, nodding. "Because I'll be relying on you for information."

"I shall provide what I can, yes," Diodana said, looking to Elster. "Though I don't know how much help I can be. Little is known about them in general, save what could be gleaned...and what was not redacted...from the Rangdan Xenocides." She stroked her respirator. "Although I suppose if any forge thane held secrets of interest to the Arkifane, it would be them..."

"Who are they?" Circe asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Where are we going exactly?"

"We're going to a place on the periphery of Imperial space," Elster said. "A system perched on the edge of the galactic void."

She pointed a finger directly at the star in question.

"We're going to Xana."

Chapter 33: Ruinstorm

Notes:

The Ruinstorm

"Betrayal At Calph! Ultramarines Ambushed By Word Bearers!"

Elster folded the newspaper, scanning the supplemental article. The front page headline only told her what she already knew: Horus, having mopped up Loyalist holdouts on Isstvan III, relocated his forces to neighboring Isstvan V to engage the inevitable counterattack by the Imperium.

She studied the black-and-white illustration (wood-engraved?) of Space Marines, marked with a stylized "U" symbol on the pauldrons, being gunned down in ambush by other Space Marines bearing the symbol of burning books. Furrowed her brow at the vivid, almost lurid descriptions of combatants, civilians, whole cities put to the sword or annihilated from orbit. Of the doom brought to Calth, and to the wider realm of Ultramar.

A pity, Elster thought, frowning. Her eye scanned the page. Ultramar almost sounded like a pleasant place to live. The replika sighed. Scratch that one off the list of places Ariane and I could settle, when all this is over.

Hsssss.

"Elster? Are you in here?"

Elster almost jumped out of her synthetic skin. She froze, holding the newspaper very still, trying not to emit a single crinkle.

Footsteps on metal grating approached.

Knock, knock.

"I-I'm busy!" Elster stuttered, blushing. Her hooves shuffled awkwardly on the tiny patch of tiled floor.

"Oh!" Ariane cried, back away. "S-sorry to disturb you!"

"It's okay!" Elster said, hands shaking. She gripped them, to stop them vibrating the bundle of paper in her hand. "I'll b-be out in a couple minutes! I'll meet you upstairs!"

"Okay!" Ariane said, walking away. The maintenance room door slid open and then closed.

Elster sighed, letting the newspaper drop to her side. She slouched down onto the assiduously sterilized metal toilet. Her knees jammed against the metal door of the lavatory.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. As I thought, this room is safe enough to get reading done.

Still, she felt like her heart would burst then and there. Elster hadn't felt that surprised and mortified to hear Ariane knocking at her lavatory door since...

...since that time, all those years ago, when Ariane nervously asked around for a bright pink "toy" she had "misplaced". Not that Ariane had dared to say what that "toy" was. Any more than Elster, at that time, dared admit she had "borrowed" it, was in the process of "using" it, and indeed was thinking about Ariane during the act of "using".

Elster shut her eyes and buried her face in her hand. Blushed furiously. Not merely at the indecency of that moment, but just by how embarrassing her younger self was in retrospect. Her whole body cringed.

She did not, and never should, give the Daemon any credit. But Elster was grateful Vashtorr saw fit to recreate, in environment and memory, the part of her and Ariane's journey when they were in their Loving New Relationship phase. Rather than the earlier, Hopeless Mutual Pining phase. That they were thoroughly past the period when they had to hide both their "needs", and how much they "needed" each other, while unable to consummate or even acknowledge either.

Elster sighed, and took up the newspaper again. Much as she'd love to rush upstairs and seduce her lover to bed then and there, the sheer embarrassment the replika felt needed unwinding. More horrible news of war would certainly distract her. Moreover, she couldn't be sure she'd have a chance later to slink away and read.

Despite everything, she badly wanted to spend her entire day with the gestalt. So much to do, Elster thought, so little time to do her...I mean it. She blushed again, cringing.

When she'd skimmed everything that seemed interesting, Elster got up from the toilet. Placing a hand on the ceiling, inches from the overhead light, to avoid hitting her head. She raised a hoof and used it to flush the toilet, as was her custom. Developed unconsciously during their voyage, and then amplified after hand soap supplies ran dangerously low.

Still, she washed her hands anyway, despite not having used the bathroom for its intended function. Both to keep up appearances, and because she enjoyed having a fully stocked supply of soap again. Small mercies of being in an illusory version of the Penrose 512, created to act as a pleasant prison for Elster's unassuming lover.

She sneaked out of her bathroom, checking around before slipping the newspaper out through the opening. Elster pushed the door closed with an audible click, so it seemed for all the world like a normal wall panel.

The Eusan Nation, in its attempts to isolate the Penrose pilot from her replika engineer, mandated that said replika's own "facilities" be hidden. To disguise, as much as possible, that the LSTR unit assigned to the mission was a living, breathing creature, and not just an automaton. Nothing quite facilitates mutual bonding between coworkers than being reminded of a shared need to...excrete.

This depersonalization campaign was the same reason Penrose LSTR units weren't permitted a bed. Despite replikas (including Elster) being able to sleep normally, and that other Nation replikas were expected to sleep in them as standard. The Calibration Pod served a number of diagnostic, defragmenting, "stabilizing", and health functions for a replika. Even allowed the replika occupant to enter a comatose state, to minimize the need for food, water, and air over long periods. (This was also, presumably, what LSTR units were expected to enter when they finished euthanizing their gestalt coworkers after Cycle 3000. A state they would then just never wake from until they expired).

Because it served so many functions for a replika on years-long flights, it was easy to justify making that the ONLY way the LSTR unit was permitted to sleep. Even when being dreadfully wasteful (as the Penrose Program inherently was), the Eusan Nation was paradoxically adamant about being dreadfully efficient and miserly about it.

Elster walked around the calibration pod, newspaper under her arm. Sitting near the wall the pod faced was a storage container painstakingly moved to maintenance. It housed a number of tools Elster nominally used as part of her work. (Not that she had any intention of performing anything but mock work while she was there; she seriously doubted Vashtorr would actually allow the ship to degrade in any way).

No, it's main utility was to sit in front of the mail slot in the wall. With just enough room that the slot could open and deposit its cargo in the space behind the container. Even if Ariane went looking around, she wouldn't incidentally see the slot or any newspapers it brought. Hardly foolproof, but it would work for casual inspection. The replika intended to keep her lover very busy, so hopefully close examinations wouldn't be an issue.

Elster looked over her shoulder, engineer's ears listening. She heard footsteps in the floor above. Guessing she was safe, Elster squatted and lifted a loose grate in the floor. She placed the latest bundle of paper onto a stack of previous "issues". Then placed the grate back down.

Also not a foolproof hiding place. But Ariane rarely got down on her hands and knees if she could help it. (At least, when it came to work or cleaning).

 

"Ready to continue the painting, Elster?"

The replika nodded, smiling. "Always."

The gestalt led her towards the easel, to view the work in progress. "I think I could probably get it done today," Ariane said, stroking her chin, "if I really knuckle under."

"You don't need to rush," Elster said, patting the gestalt's shoulder. "I'm fine modeling for you as long as you need."

"Oh, you!" Ariane said, grinning and waving her off.

Elster took a long look at the painting, memorizing the pose. It was months since she last modeled, even if it was only the previous cycle for Ariane. The replika needed to remember the exact position. Though Ariane would doubtless correct her if the pose wasn't right.

Ariane picked up her palette. "Okay, Elster, lay dow-"

B'dum.

The gestalt winced, clutching her head. "Ah!"

Elster flinched. "Ariane?" she said, stepping forward. "What's wrong?" Her heart started racing.

"Ow, ow, ow," Ariane groaned, rubbing her temple. She hissed through clenched teeth. "Fuck..."

"Ari!" Elster gasped, placing her hands under the gestalt's arms.

Wincing, Ariane smiled up at Elster. "Ngh...I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, brushing fingers through her white hair. "Just a...headache...ah..."

She staggered, before her replika lover caught her. "Oh...feeling dizzy..."

"Ah!" Elster held the gestalt up, gritting her teeth. No, no, no, no! This isn't supposed to be happening!

"I just need to...sit down..." Ariane said, half walking, half carried to her bunk. She sat, rubbing her head.

"Are you alright?" Elster said, unable to keep the urgency from her voice. "Ariane?"

"I'm fine, Ellie," Ariane said, nodding. She held her face in her hands, the palette discarded on the floor beside the bunk. "C-can you fill my bottle of water?" She pointed to the bottle sitting on a side table.

"Y-yes!" Elster said, nodding. She grabbed the bottle. Looked around frantically. "Wait there!" She slipped into Ariane's bathroom and filled the bottle from the tap. It was still beaded with water droplets splashed onto the side, when Elster handed it to the gestalt. "Here."

"Thank you, Ellie," Ariane breathed, forcing a smile weakly. She held a hand over her eyes as she opened the bottle and drank. "Gah..." she gasped, taking a breath between gulps. She drank again, wincing. "...fuck..."

Elster wrung her hands judiciously. "How are you feeling?" she said, gulping. She sat on the edge of the bed beside Ariane and rubbed her shoulder.

"Ngh...a little better," Ariane said, rubbing her eyes. "Sitting helped the dizziness. I think I have a migraine." She groaned, shaking her head. Peeked with one eye, then clasped them shut. "Ngh...turn the lights off, will you, Ellie?"

"Anything!" Elster rose to her hooves and slapped the light switch next to the bunk. The room plunged into the near-darkness of the soft safety lights that clung near the floor at the periphery of the room. "Better?"

"Much," Ariane nodded, blinking from between splayed fingers. She groaned. "...ugh...no painting right now. I need to lie down."

"Th-that's fine!" Elster said, holding up her hands. "Just rest."

Ariane tipped prone onto the mattress, then scooched to the back of the bunk. She blindly patted the other side of the bed.

Elster didn't need verbal confirmation. She climbed into the bunk and took her place beside the gestalt. "Nap time?"

"Mmhmm," Ariane moaned, rolling over to hug Elster's side. She pressed her face into the replika's chest, burying her eyes. "Just...until my head stops pounding..." She tucked one arm behind Elster's neck, and the other arm hugging her waist. Ariane sighed.

"Don't worry," Elster said softly, rubbing her lover's head. "I'm not going anywhere."

As Ariane drifted to sleep, Elster clenched one fist.

Götterdämmerung, Vashtorr, Elster thought, gritting her teeth. We had a fucking deal.

She remained there, petting Ariane's white hair, for hours. Eventually, the gestalt woke up, well enough to have dinner in the mess. But the headache, while diminished, didn't go away the entire day.

Elster stayed with Ariane the entire time. Even ignoring the knocking sounds below, heralding the arrival of a second, "late edition" of the newspaper. Whatever it was, it could wait. Her lover's health was more important than the state of the galaxy.

Elster and Ariane went back to bed, the replika never reading the update.

---

"Thank god, you're awake."

Elster's eyes fluttered open. She stepped from the calibration pod and rubbed her eyes. "Dash?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

The Star stood in front of a storage crate, upon which a book and half-eaten ration sat.

Dash frowned. "Something happened."

"It's not serious, is it?" Elster said, wincing. She massaged her temple, to alleviate a headache. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"It's not...an emergency, really," Dash said, scratching her head. "We got it mostly sorted, for the moment. And well..."

Elster cocked an eyebrow, fingers threaded through her hair. "...what?"

"Circe told me when you're in the pod, you sometimes meet with her," Dash said. "With Ariane, that is. I figured, since it wasn't urgent, it wouldn't be good to...tear you away from her." She shrugged.

The elder replika sighed. "...thank you, Dash," she said, nodding. "As a matter of fact, I was with Ariane. But..." She pinched the bridge of her nose, clasping eyes shut. "...we couldn't do much. She came down with a splitting headache, and spent most of my visit napping."

Dash raised an eyebrow curiously. Without her mask on, the Star's frown was plainly visible. "You don't look like you're doing so hot either, ma'am," Dash said, crossing her arms.

"No," Elster shook her head. "Head's on fire."

"There's a lot of that going on, since it happened."

Elster blinked, looking gravely. "Since what happened?"

 

"Ughnn...hey, mom...fuck..."

Elster sank to her knees and placed her hands on Circe's shoulders. "How bad is it, Circe?" she asked, frowning.

"Ngh..." Circe grunted, rubbing her scalp. "It sucks. Can't hardly hear myself think over the storm."

"Another warp storm?" Elster said. Her eyes traveled across the Kolibri meditation room.

Saw both Isis and Shahrazad paralyzed by pain. Each was cradled by another of Circe's children. Rue gently held an unconscious Shahrazad, the Ara stroking the Kolibri's cheek. A damp cloth placed over her forehead. Myrtle and Sally hugged Isis between them, whispering quietly to the girl.

"Y-yeah," Circe muttered, her head being stroked by Hippolyta as it rested on the Storch's lap. "It's so much, and the pressure is insane. I can hear the lightning crack from star systems away."

"It's never been this bad before," Elster said, a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek.

"Not since we've been together," Hippolyta said, frowning. "Never seen the 'libris react like this." The Storch's expression said it all: the only thing holding back her anger was the concern she had for the little ones. She shook her head, whispering, "At least they're better here, in this room."

Elster tipped Circe's chin up. "This...this is the storm you were talking about, isn't it?" she said, gulping. "The one Charity warned you about?"

Circe nodded. "...the storm...that brings ruin..." she breathed. "You...can feel it too, can't you, Elster?"

Elster nodded grimly. "I've had a headache since I woke up from the pod."

"Other crew members have reported persistent headaches, too," Dash said, leading against the wall beside the door. Arms crossed. "No idea why it's affecting some but not others. We know for certain, though, that it all started at the same time."

"...did you see the White Mother?" Circe asked, weakly, holding a hand out.

Elster took Circe's hand. "Yes," she said, nodding.

"...you don't look happy..." the Kolibri said, frowning.

Elster exhaled hard. "No. I'm not." She glared down at the ground. "...Ariane was suffering a headache, too."

"...she can suffer headaches?" Dash asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I'll admit, your 'visitations' are kind of nebulous to me. Is she supposed to be able to get a headache...wherever she is?"

The elder replika huffed, rubbing Circe's hand gently. Then, she stood up. "No. She's not." Elster turned to the door, glaring into space. "I'm going to have a word with Vashtorr."

"I'm going too."

Elster looked over her shoulder. She frowned. "Hippolyta, no. You can't..."

Hippolyta set Circe on the pillowed floor. "Dash, tag in. Stay with Circe." She kissed the Kolibri on the forehead and rose to standing, holding Circe's upraised hand.

She grimaced. "If that bastard is responsible for this, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

 

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

The Penrose 313 elevator ascended, carrying three replikas up.

Hippolyta just glared down at Elster, then looked forward again.

Elster sighed. "...this is a bad idea," she said, shutting her eyes. "But fine. Have it your way." She looked the other direction. "How about you? Do you really want to see Vashtorr?"

Adler, hands clasped behind his back, nodded. "Since we're already having a meeting with your...employer..." he said, glancing over, "...I suppose I should attend. I'd like to know what kind of being is directing our activities." He glanced sideways and up. "Moreover, I think you may benefit from having a second person who can help...restrain Strike Team Leader."

"Tch," Hippolyta grunted, clenching her fist. She kept staring forward.

"I suppose I can't argue with that," Elster said, nodding. "Word of forewarning: Vashtorr will be speaking through Mik'hul." She side-eyed Hippolyta. "Which means, again, don't punch the living nuclear reactor. Got it?"

The Storch grunted in assent.

"Do you understand, Hip?" Elster said, turning to the Storch.

"I got it!" Hippolyta growled. She breathed. "...I'm not going to attack him. Even I'm not that stupid." She raised a fist and clenched it. "I just want to yell at him."

Elster frowned. "Be that as it may, remember that he's still a demi-god," Elster said. "A demi-god that has my girlfriend locked up, and decides when I have visitation." She held two fingers close together. "So be just a teensy bit respectful, alright?"

Hippolyta looked at Elster. "If he hurt your girl, would you be respectful?"

Elster looked at the floor of the elevator. "..."

The platform came to a stop at the top.

 

"...I mean, I'm always saying 'the more the merrier', but...you sure about letting these two see the boss, boss?"

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, but just do it anyway."

Mik'hul writhed in a rough approximation of a shrug. "Sounds great, what could go wrong? One moment."

The wall of rippling pink and blue flesh shuddered. The multitude of eyes opened wide, as pinpricks of black formed in the centers of the solid yellow. These dark pupils began to expand, as the mouths chanted.

Elster, already suffering a headache, covered her ears. "Don't listen to this next part," she said to her two companions. "Cover your ears."

"What?" Hippolyta said, looking down at Elster. "Why?"

Adler, meanwhile, did as instructed without comment.

The Storch shivered as the blasphemous chant began in earnest. "Ugh, what the..." Then, as the discordant dial-tone noises played, she recoiled. "Ah!" she cried, clapping hands over her ears. "M-my digital interface!"

"Told you!" Elster shouted, shutting her eyes. Under normal circumstances, Elster was so accustomed to tuning out the infernal machine language, she rarely bothered blocking her ears. But she didn't want an even worse headache, so stopped her ears just as a precaution. "Manually stop your processors from trying to decipher it!" she yelled. "It'll only give you pain and bad dreams!"

"NOW you tell us!" Hippolyta cried, shutting her eyes. Her body shuddered. She groaned, doubling over and pressing her fists into her ears hard, as the contact ritual reached its zenith.

The noise abated, chants petering out. The three replikas looked just in time to see a central mouth open wider and wider. From its writhing insides, three unwholesome orifices, set with metal bands, bulged out. Before fire lit from within.

Adler, staring into the fiery voids, gulped. Sweat forming on his brow, as much from disconcertment as from the heat wafting out.

"Ugh..." Hippolyta groaned, recoiling in disgust.

Elster bowed her head. "Dark Artificer," she said.

"LSTR Five One Two," said the Arkifane in a voice like a burning furnace, dripping oil, and steel grinding against steel. "And I perceive your creations attend me as well. Salutations, ADLR Nomarch Zero Six Zero One. STCR Nomarch Zero Six Zero One."

Alder, struggling to maintain a neutral expression, stood up straight. "S-sir!" He bowed his head.

"Oi!"

Hippolyta scowled, despite the beads of sweat rolling down her own face. "Listen here, you piece of shit..."

"Hippolyta!" Elster said, turning to her. She faced the trinity of maws acting in place of the Daemon. "Apologies, Arkifane..."

"No, don't apologize!" Hippolyta said to Elster. She turned to face forward. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

Vashtorr chuckled. "Have I offended you, pseudo-fleshling?

"Pseudo-fleshling?" the Storch muttered under her breath. "The fuck kind of crap is...?" She shook her head, raising her voice. "You bet your daemon ass I'm offended! You hurt my girl!"

"Hip, please, calm down," Elster whispered, holding hands out to her plaintively.

"I do not recall harming KLBR Nomarch Zero Six Zero One," Vashtorr said, the fiery holes flaring with each utterance. "If you reference the onset of the Ruinstorm, understand this not to be my design."

"Likely story!" the Storch said, raising clenched fists.

"No, no," Elster said, holding a hand out in front of Hippolyta, "he's probably not lying. Vashtorr has no reason to, because he wouldn't care if you knew. Denying it gains him nothing."

"Correct, servant," Vashtorr said.

"You're taking his side?" Hippolyta yelled, grimacing at Elster.

"I'm not doing that!" Elster said. She breathed. Inhaled. Exhaled. She glared at Vashtorr. "The Arkifane still knew this 'Ruinstorm' was coming. And didn't bother to mention it to us."

"Also correct," Vashtorr said. "Tell me, LSTR Five One Two, would you have readily cast ship, crew, and yourself into the void on this venture, if forewarned? Would you have risen to the occasion, were such information availed to you?"

Elster gritted her teeth. "...I would have weighed my options more carefully, Dark Artificer."

"You possess your answer, then, pseudo-fleshlings," Vashtorr said. "Understand I did not speak untruthfully, when I presented your options. I was merely not forthcoming, to ensure your continued participation."

"Fucking asshole," Hippolyta muttered, seething where she stood.

Adler coughed. "...oh...master of the Soul Forges..." he said, looking away so as to not stare at the flames. "I am...curious. If you were not responsible for this...'Storm of Ruin', from what source was it wrought?"

"I assumed it's some work of the Ruinous Powers in general," Elster said, glancing at Adler. "Is it not so?"

"In a sense, yes," Vashtorr said. "The powers of Chaos respond in kind to rituals performed on the distant world of Calth."

"That's...where the Word Bearers Legion ambushed the Ultramarines, right?" Elster said, stroking her chin.

Adler and Hippolyta looked at Elster, confused.

"Precisely so, Vashtorr said. "I was led to believe you were informed of the ritual perform at Calth. Was my other servant negligent in her duties?"

Elster squinted, confused. A gear turned in her mind. Shit, there WAS a second newspaper drop, wasn't there? I was so concerned with Ariane, I ignored it!

She facepalmed. "I...may have...neglected to check the second missive."

Her children were even more confused.

"It matters not," Vashtorr said. "The current circumstances would play out identically. Up to and including arranging this conversation, to obtain further clarity as to your options."

"Yes, that is a point," Adler said, side-eyeing his embarrassed parent nervously. "What are our options? What does this mean for us?"

"Yeah, what about Circe and her kids?" Hippolyta said, waving her arm wildly. "They're in agony! How do we stop that?"

"And what about Ariane?" Elster asked, lowering her hand from her face. "How is the Ruinstorm so bad, even SHE is affected? We had a deal, Dark Artificer! She's supposed to be free from pain!"

"You will recall, firstly, that our arrangement pertained to saving your woman's life, pseudo-fleshling," Vashtorr said. "Banishing her pain and ills that bedeviled her in the moment. If she remains untroubled by pain further, it is by my generosity. Remember that."

Elster's face reddened, but she bit her tongue. "...yes...Dark Artificer..." she seethed.

"Secondly, my servant, on the subject of how she could be affected..." Vashtorr said, pausing for emphasis. "...you know why. You can guess."

Elster clapped a hand over her mouth, frowning. "...yes...I do..."

"What?" Hippolyta muttered, looking at Elster. "Mind sharing with the class?"

Elster shut her eyes. It's because she's bioresonant, she thought. But there's no use saying that. It doesn't change anything.

"Thirdly, on the subject of pain," Vashtorr continued, as if nothing was wrong, "be of good cheer. I foresee that, in time, psychic talents such as your KLBR units will slowly grow accustomed to the Warp turbulence. The agony arises from shock and overstimulation. This, too, shall pass."

"...it fucking better," Hippolyta grumbled, crossing her arms.

"A fact which applies to all creatures connected to the Warp. Yourselves, the KLBR units, and, yes, Ariane Yeong."

Elster exhaled, rubbing her head. "That's...good to know," she said.

"How long is this 'Ruinstorm' expected to last?" Adler asked, stroking his chin. "We are on a timetable."

"The Ruinstorm's influence already factors into the timetable," Vashtorr said. "As an instrument of the Ruinous Powers, to facilitate the Warmaster's campaign against the Abomination, I foresee it remaining in play until the war's conclusion. Though its strength may diminish, should certain anchors put in place be destroyed."

"The storm is going to rage for nearly ten fucking years!?" Hippolyta shouted, face going red. "We can't wait that long!"

"Hippolyta is right," Elster said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "There'd better be an option for moving forward. Otherwise, we're literally stuck here, in this random star system. The Kolibris can barely think, let alone navigate in this storm. I'd hate to actually try flying into it."

Adler chewed his thumb, running the numbers in his head. "Our supplies, while extensive, will not last us the better part of a decade."

"Fret not, children of artifice," Vashtorr said, his voice lilting as much as was possible for him. "The Ruinstorm was enacted to stymie Imperium Loyalists. To hamper their capacity to travel. However, travel they, and by extension you, can still do. Once the initial shock of the Ruinstorm's arrival dissipates, your navigators will discover more avenues of progress. Moreover, forces pledged to Chaos have been supplied with knowledge and access to paths unavailable to their Loyalist counterparts."

Adler stroked his chin pensively. "...I suppose that's to be expected," he said. "Unless he was badly outnumbered, which he isn't, Horus would never create such adverse conditions if they would also hobble his own forces. His victory is contingent on conquering Terra. Whereas his enemies have the luxury of waiting for him to arrive. If he possessed means of circumventing the storm, it would provide an enormous advantage."

The Storch crossed her arms, huffing. "I guess. I'm still pissed Circe had to be caught in it."

"Seems like that was always going to be a problem for the Kolibris," Elster said, shutting her eyes, "regardless of if we left Eusan or not. Regardless of whether we were warned or not."

"Precisely," Vashtorr said. "The designs of Horus and the Word Bearers who masterminded the ritual were factored well in advance. Lorgar's Legion relished the opportunity to sacrifice the worlds of Ultramar to the Dark Gods, as retribution."

"Retribution for what?" Hippolyta muttered, looking at the floor. "Fucking Imperials and their bullshit politics."

"I'll tell you later," Elster whispered to Hippolyta. She turned to Vashtorr. "So, how do we make use of these pathways through the storm?"

"Mik'hul, as native to the Warp, will guide your Kolibri," Vashtorr said. "Follow his lead."

Verdammt! Elster thought, gritting her teeth. "No, Mik'hul will show ME how to get through, and I'll pass it along to the others." She wasn't about to give the daemon free access to their impressionable minds.

"As you wish," Vashtorr said, nonchalantly. "The results will be identical."

Adler nodded. "I shall update the timetable, then," he said. "How soon will it be safe to leave?"

"I advise departing as expeditiously as your navigators can manage," Vashtorr said. "Even with Mik'hul's assistance, travel will remain ponderous. Moreover, you may desire additional time to fulfill other assignments in the interim."

"Circe doesn't work until I say she's recovered," Hippolyta growled, glaring. "I won't have her straining herself."

Elster nodded. "I agree," she said. "Circe and the others need their rest. We'll just have to advance other projects, until she's fit to fly."

"As you wish," Vashtorr said. "Any other pressing business?"

"I want to see Ariane again," Elster said, narrowing her eyes. "I need to make sure she's alright."

"Your woman suffers not, for the moment, while she remains in stasis," Vashtorr said. Heat and air issues from the holes, in the rough approximation of a sigh. "However, I will acquiesce to this request. Wait one week, and then calibrate. Her subconscious mind will acclimatize to the Ruinstorm's presence in that time."

"...thank you, Dark Artificer," Elster said, bowing at the waist. "I have nothing further to ask."

Adler, looking at Elster, stared at the daemonic mass and bowed as well.

"Tch," Hippolyta said, refusing to bow.

"I am not mistaken," Vashtorr said, not even entertaining the pretense of doubt. "ADLR Nomarch Zero Six Zero One has further business."

Elster side-eyed her creation. A gear turned in her head. She furrowed her brow. "...Adler," she intoned, severely. "Don't."

Adler closed his eyes. "Commander, I..."

"We've been over this," Elster said, frowning. "We'll look into it as soon as we can. We just don't have the bioresonant power to..."

"I know, Commander," Adler said. He looked at the Daemon. "I'm...weighing my options."

"Don't." Elster scowled. She whispered, "Do you want the Falke to be Chaos corrupted?"

"It would gladden me greatly, to provide the ADLR unit with his long-denied object of veneration," Vashtorr said, a note of excitement creeping into his voice. "You have merely to..."

Elster pulled a laspistol and pointed it at Adler. "Adler! No!" she barked.

Adler looked at Elster, frowning. Pain tinged his voice. "Please, Commander."

"We'll find another way!" Elster said, sternly. Keeping her weapon leveled at his head. "But I won't let you make a deal with him! I forbid it!"

"Give it a rest, you two," Hippolyta said, scowling. "We have more important things to do."

Elster sighed, lowering the weapon. "I'm sorry, Adler. But this isn't the way."

Adler lowered his gaze to the floor. "...I know..." She clasped his hands behind his back. "My apologies, Commander." He turned to Vashtorr. "I'm afraid I am obligated to decline your generous offer, Dark Artificer."

"Pitiable," Vashtorr said. "Though there remain other avenues for acquiring what you crave. Help you may solicit."

Adler's face lit up. He leaned forward, expectantly.

"Hmm?" Elster said, looking at the Daemon. "What help? Not Daemon help, I hope?"

"Nothing so fantastic," Vashtorr said. "Though it be of help from one of Horus's allied Legions. One well versed in psykana."

Adler looked to Elster, a tension in his frame. "Commander?"

Elster slid her laspistol back in its holster. "We'll see. Where do we find them?"

"When you have completed your assignment on Xana," Vashtorr said, "you will be timed and positioned to rendezvous with your potential allies. Consult with Mik'hul later, he will supply the coordinates for your map. In the interim, prepare the chassis, organs, and brain of your Falke, conditions permitting. Create more Kolibri. Even with assistance, I make no guarantees of success. But...if you accomplish it...I shall be greatly pleased."

Adler stared at his commander anxiously.

Elster breathed. She shut her eyes.

"Very well. Adler, add the work order to the end of the schedule. And prepare the itemized list of materials needed."

Adler stood up straight and smiled. "Thank you, Commander."

Chapter 34: Teatime Before Deployment

"Estimated time of departure?"

Elster sighed, adjusting the tinted goggles over her eyes. The bright blue flash from the arc welder reflected off the lenses. "No firm estimation," she said. "Whenever Circe is well enough. At least a week, probably two."

Diodana sighed, then nodded. "Understood," she said, before resuming the weld.

Daisy looked up, staring from behind her face shield. "How is she?"

"Better," Elster said, crossing her arms. "She and the others can stand again. They're working up to leaving the meditation room for more than a few minutes at a time."

She shook her head. If the room had a chamber pot or something, they wouldn't need to leave at all. But while the three Kolibri were close, none were eager to be that close.

Moreover, it was important to acclimatize them to the Ruinstorm. Keeping them in the meditation chamber all the time would only delay that. No matter how much Hippolyta protested.

"I see," Daisy said, nodding. She returned to the massive arm in front of her.

"Let me reverse your earlier question, Diodana," Elster said. "ETA on this thing?"

"Barring unforeseen emergency repairs, roughly one week," Diodana said. "Are the brains prepared?"

"Another month to full maturation," Elster said. "Thankfully, I thought to start them, before we got word of the war. We'll definitely have functioning Schnappers before we hit Xana, at least."

"What exactly is the mission that requires us to travel all the way to Xana?" Diodana said. "I have no particular affection for the reclusive Forgeworld, of course. But..."

"No damage against the system as a whole," Elster said, watching the metal spark and glow under the heat. "Just a jailbreak."

"Jailbreak?" Diodana said, pausing. She looked at Elster, then back to her work. "I see." She continued welding.

Daisy fished a part from the pile and began fastening it to the arm's internal systems. "Back to the subject of brains..." she said. "Rose told me you started work on a Falke brain. That true? I'm sure Adler is happy."

"Falke brains, plural," Elster said, nodding.

"Light warning abated," Diodana said, deactivating the arc welder.

"Why multiple brains?" Daisy said, raising her face shield with a mechadendrite. "Are we trying to mass produce them?"

"..." Elster wasn't sure how well she could control multiple Falkes. Despite that Elster apparently "mastered" them. "I mean, it would be convenient," Elster said, shrugging, "having a whole squad of the Nation's wunderwaffen at our disposal. It would make the battles ahead much easier. But no, we're only going to have the resources for one of them. And that's with downgrading the materials used to something less...prohibitive, under our current circumstances."

"I suppose if we've got a powerful bioresonant on our side, it doesn't matter if she's not as sturdy as the Nation's specs call for," Daisy said, stroking her chin. "Her mind is the important part. Anything else can be upgraded later."

"Mmhmm," Elster said. "No, the brain itself is the issue. It has to be perfect. We're growing a bunch of them, to see if any are remotely good enough."

"A FLKR brain requires such a high biological standard?" Diodana said, glancing over.

"From my records, the Nation had a whole facility devoted to growing Falke brains," Elster said. "They'd regularly grow hundreds of them, until they found one that met the standards of the bioresonant adepts."

Daisy whistled. "Wow. I don't think we have the room to store that many brains."

"Certainly not," Diodana said. "Much less to simply...dispose of them, if they fail to meet standards. The Nation apparently considered the resource expenditure worth it."

"The last thing you want is to give vast psychic power to a person with a neurological predisposition to mental illness, or some other problem," Elster said. "Plus, the Nation had its reputation to maintain. So any...neurodivergence couldn't be tolerated."

Daisy frowned. "...is that...a problem?"

Elster held up her hands. "It's not a problem," she said. "I mean, I'd rather avoid any significant problems, given the...stakes, as mentioned earlier. But I don't consider it a priority to match the Falke template one to one." She smiled. "A replika's differences are what make them special."

Daisy forced a smile, then frowned. "...but there can be problems you try to avoid, right?"

"Well, yes," Elster said, frowning. "Some brains, for instance are non-viable at first principles. Even when I was a novice, I could usually spot those kinds of problems. But..."

Daisy fidgeted with one of her tools. "...am I the way I am, because...?"

Elster held up a hand. "Stop. Daisy, you're the way you are, because you're an Ara. Your base template is neurodivergent, in genetics and neural pattern. You're working 'as intended', for lack of a better word." She smiled. "All you Aras are fine, just the way you are."

The Ara processed this with a neutral expression, then nodded. "Thank you, Elster." She returned to her task.

Elster sighed, frowning.

Despite what she said, the commander and progenitor was concerned about the 'Firstling Five'.

Daisy, Tulip, Poppy, Dash, and Vanessa.

The ones whose brains were grown on the Penrose 313 during the flight over, under less than ideal circumstances. Whose brains were instantiated when Elster was most green. To a certain extent, she held that same trepidation over the other older children, like Double Tap, Meryl, Begonia, and even Circe. Replikas created when she was still learning the ropes.

Elster couldn't discount she'd missed some critical flaw in their brains. Something that would come back to bite them down the line.

Oh well, Elster thought, gravely. As with the Falke, only time will tell.

 

Hsssss.

The two replikas on the couch froze, lips locked together. They parted, panting. Looked up.

Three Aras stood at the sliding door, awkwardly. Rue, blushing, clutched the Puppet Pals Vol. 4 VHS in front of her face, so only her eyes peeked over. Behind the three, Jenny stooped, midway through ducking under the doorway.

"Uh...are we...interrupting?" said Rose, arms held defensively in front of her chest.

Dash quickly removed her hand from where she'd stuffed it down the back of Samantha's navy blue jumpsuit. The Eule scrambled off of Dash, sitting down on the couch cushion between the Star's long legs. Her own legs crossed furiously, vice-like. She blushed, hands on her knees.

"Uh, n-nothing!" Dash cried, only slowing the act of spinning in her seat to avoid kicking the Eule over. She stood ramrod straight. "We were just, uh..." Her mouth pursed nervously. "S-Sam, help me out here..."

Samantha just screwed her mouth shut, staring at the floor. She still breathed heavy, lingering "excitement" from moments before.

Rose looked sideways to the large screen TV affixed to the wall. It played the credits for an Empire romance movie. "Y-you don't need to explain," she said, tapping index fingers together. "There's n-nothing wrong with th-that..."

Jenny finished squeezing through the opening, standing up. "Y-yes," she said, massaging her exposed head. "It's not the first time we've...well..."

Rue and Violet (ARAR-N0615) eyed each other nervously.

Dash couldn't meet the others' eyes. She looked away, pulling down her t-shirt from where it had been pushed up.

Samantha pulled the jumpsuit back up over her shoulders, also unable to meet anyone's gaze. "S-sorry," she said, zipping up to her neck awkwardly.

"Again, it's okay!" Rose said, throwing up her hands. "W-we would just leave and let you get back to it...but..." She looked over her shoulder. "It...IS our turn with the TV." She pointed to a blackboard set on the wall, on which a viewing schedule was meticulously scrawled in chalk.

Rue held up the cassette of children's material, as demonstration. She nodded...behind the cover. Blushing furiously.

"Shit! Right! Sorry!" Dash staggered to her feet, face dripping with sweat. "We, uh, l-lost track of time!"

"Y-yeah, sorry!" Samantha cried, running over to the VHS player and hitting eject. The screen went black, as the machine spat out their tape. "Very inconsiderate of us!" She smiled nervously, fumbling blindly with the dust cover. She slid the cassette inside, hands shaking.

"We'll j-just get out of your hair!" Dash said, placing her arm around Samantha and preparing to lead her out the door. It was only Jenny's large size that barred their exit.

"Really, it's no trouble!" Rose said, corralling her younger siblings around. "This way, Jenny!"

"R-right," Jenny said, turning sideways to let the two lovebirds pass.

When Dash and Samantha made to leave, the Mynah placed a hand in their path.

"Eh?" Dash said. She and Samantha looked to the power armor replika.

"If you two need somewhere...private..." Jenny whispered, turning to block them from the sight of the Aras. "...you can go to my room. We'll be here for a while."

"Y-you don't have to do that," Samantha whispered, hugging herself.

"Y-yeah," Dash said, frowning. "Your room..."

"Is always open to replikas in need," Jenny whispered, smiling warmly. "Even when I'm not there. Just...remember to clean up after yourselves..." She wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

The two lovebirds blushed.

"...w-we will!" Dash gasped, pulling her lover along. "Come on, Sam."

"Th-thank you, Jenny!" Samantha whisper-yelled, as they walked out.

Jenny beamed at the retreating figures, then turned around as the door slid shut. "Sorry about that, girls," the Mynah said, smiling. She stomped over, and sat down on the floor in front of the couch. "Are we ready?"

Rose nodded, popping the Puppet Pals VHS into the player. She walked back over and climbed gingerly over Jenny, to take her place on the couch next to the other Aras. "Have the remote, Violet?"

"Mmhmm!" Violet said, raising the remote and tapping the 'play' button.

 

"Guten Morgen. Please watch your step."

The newborn replika, bleary eyed, gripped the side of the pod. She froze when, mid-step, she looked down and saw her out-stretched hoof. "Eh?" she said, eyes going wide. "...the fuck happened to my...foot...whole leg...?" She gawked at the extensive length, nearly getting vertigo for how high she stood.

She took a shaky first step, supporting herself on the pod. Her long legs shook, as she pulled herself from the pod and stood, trembling like the world's tallest baby deer.

"You're doing good, newbie."

The newborn looked forward. Saw two replikas standing across from her, behind a stool left a scant meter away. She marveled at one, just as tall as her. So incredibly familiar.

"Take your time," said the shorter replika. "If you need help, don't hesitate to ask."

"I don't need...!" The newborn, scowling, tried to stand on her own. She stumbled waving her arms around. "Shit, shit, shit!" Her legs buckled, hands landed on the stool. She supported herself as best she could, her hooves having difficulty finding purchase on the grated metal floors. She froze, finding something resembling stability. She panted.

The tall replika across from her smiled. "She's doing good so far, right?"

Her shorter compatriot nodded, then stepped forward. "Would you like help now?"

"I...got it..." the newborn grunted, pulling herself up and gingerly stepping over. "These fucked up legs just...don't want to cooperate..." She finally sat down, hands still gripping the stool as her legs splayed out wide. "S-see!"

"Good job," Elster nodded. "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag. My name is Elster."

The newborn raised an eyebrow. "B-birthday?" she said, visibly confused. "It's not my...is it?" She stared down at her hooves, frowning. Then, tentatively took one hand off the stool's lip to look at it. "What's...wrong with my..."

Losing concentration, she sagged to one side. "Ah!" she cried, hooves scrambling on the floor as she started to lose her balance.

"Woop! Got ya!"

The older, tall replika caught her junior by the shoulder and back, lifting her back to sitting position. "Don't worry, it happens to the best of us."

The newborn looked up at that...eerily familiar face. Familiar but different. Framed by metal. She lifted a hand, looking down at it. Then, she touched her face, tracing the counters of her cheek. Staring at the older replika, feeling the hard seams on her own face, exactly where they appeared on the other's.

"...what...what the hell is going on?" the newborn breathed. "Who are...who am I?" She looked down at her chest, which thus far lacked the painted metal breastplate of her older counterpart. Traced the seams in synthetic skin, the clusters of artificial muscle groups, the...touch-sensitive silicon lumps where her breasts should be. The freakishly long legs, with visible mechanisms showing between panels.

"...what am I?" she said, eyes wide.

"You are a Replika," Elster said, hands clasped behind her back. "A bio-mechanical human, a marriage between cloned human tissues and organs, and a cybernetic chassis. With the neural pattern of a deceased flesh-and-blood human, called a Gestalt, grafted onto your vat-grown brain."

The newborn blinked. "...oh..." She touched her chest, feeling her heartbeat. "Shit. I really do have living shit in me..."

"Yep," said her doppelganger, patting her shoulder. "You can still eat, drink, sleep, shit, and fuck."

"Not what I'd focus on," Elster said, eyes narrowed. She shrugged. "But yes, you can do all of those things, same as a gestalt."

The newborn blushed, then shook her head. "Wait, back up," she said, pointing a finger at Elster. "You said I'm based on a dead woman's...neural pattern?" She frowned. "Why don't I...?"

"Remember anything?" her elder said. "Trust me, newbie, it's better you don't remember. Take it from me. I've remembered some stuff." She frowned. "Our gestalt...had...issues..."

Elster leaned forward, looking the newborn in the eyes. "Sorry, I have a procedure," she said. "Do you remember your designation? That is, your name?"

The newborn leaned back. "Oi, this is my personal space!" she said, waving Elster back.

"Apologies," Elster said, standing up straight. She maintained eye contact, however. "Your name?"

Blink. Blink. The newborn gulped, feeling the intensity of the gaze. She looked away. "...uh..." It came unbidden. Unasked for. As if it were always there. "...STCR...N0602?" Her eyebrows rose. "...why do I know that?"

"Because your mind has been successfully installed," Elster said, nodding. She smiled. "As I said before, Happy Birthday, Storch 02. I am LSTR-512. You can call me Elster. Everyone does."

"H-hi?" Storch 02 said, staring.

"And this," Elster said, gesturing to the elder Storch, "is Hippolyta. Aka STCR-N0601."

"Welcome to the world, rookie," Hippolyta said, giving 02 a one-armed hug around the shoulder. She smiled. "Great to finally have another Storch on the team."

"Oh...hello..." 02 said, looking at her elder as their faces were perilously close together. She looked at Elster again. "I get that she's the same kind of...replika as me." She jerked her head towards Hippolyta. "But what are you supposed to be?"

"Among other things, I'm your commander," Elster said, staring at 02. "I'm your boss."

"Tch," 02 said, frowning. "You? But you're so tiny."

Elster glared into the newborn's eyes. Unblinking. Laser focused. Her expression neutral, impassive. But her eyes conveyed all that was needed. They said, "listen here, you little shit".

Storch 02 blinked first, gulping. She recoiled, shivering. "...uh..."

"I wouldn't be so quick to judge," Hippolyta said, grinning. She pointed to Elster. "She might not look it, but she's stone cold."

The new Storch looked between them. "...really?"

"Yeah!" Hippolyta said, chuckling. "I tried to act all tough my first day, and she kicked my ass before I even knew what happened!"

Elster frowned. "Can we not, Hip?" she said, sadly. "I don't want that to be our relationship going forward."

"Sure, sure," Hippolyta said, waving. "But a little beating never hurt any-" She stopped mid-sentence, frowning.

Storch 02 looked up at her elder. "...uh...are you okay?"

Hippolyta patted her junior's shoulder. She looked down, still frowning. "Let's...forget I said that...okay?"

"O-okay?" the young Storch said, leaning her head back.

"Anyway!" Hippolyta said, putting on a smile. "Good news, bad news." She raised a finger. "Good news is, we're going to be kicking a lot of ass going forward. When you're broken in, you'll be joining us."

"Oh?" Storch 02 said, eyes lighting up. "That sounds fun."

"The bad news," said Elster, crossing her arms, "is that you'll be 'kicking ass' because we're in the middle of a galaxy-spanning war." She sighed, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"...yeah..." said Hippolyta, scratching the back of her head.

Storch 02 blinked, then her eyebrows rose. "Wait, what?"

"It's a...long story," Hippolyta said, smiling nervously.

"Way too long for right now," Elster said. "I need to get working on Storch 03." She smiled. "Hey, Hip. Why don't you show 02 the firing range?"

Storch 02's eyes lit up.

"Heh heh," Hippolyta cackled, clapping a hand on her junior's shoulder. "That got you excited! Come on, rookie. Let Big Sis show you the ropes!"

"R-right!" Storch 02 said, smiling. She tried to get up, nearly fell, then leaned on Hippolyta for support. "Sorry!"

"No problem. Let's go!" Hippolyta slowly walked her little sister towards the door of the workshop.

Elster smiled, watching them leave.

"So I know you know normal guns," Hippolyta said, helping her junior duck under the doorway. "But some neat stuff has been going around since our gestalt died. You ever hear of lasguns...?"

---

"How are you feeling?"

Ariane rubbed her eyes. "Better," she yawned, covering her mouth. She propped her head up on the kitchen table.

"Head still hurt?" Elster said, looking over her shoulder.

"Mmhmm," Ariane nodded, resting her eyes. "A little bit, yeah. Not as bad as yesterday."

"I'm glad," Elster said, returning to the pair of mugs on the counter. "Black, Green, or Darjeeling?"

"Aren't we out of Darjeeling?" the gestalt asked, sleepily.

Elster pursed her lips. "...no, we still have plenty," she said finally.

"Could have sworn we ran out," Ariane said, furrowing her brow.

The replika held her breath. "...I...don't know what to tell you, Ari. The box here is full." She held the box up to demonstrate, shaking it for emphasis.

The gestalt blinked, eyes narrowed in confusion. Ariane huffed, shaking her head. "Too early for mysteries. Since we've got it, Darjeeling, please."

"R-right," Elster said, smiling. A knot loosened in her chest. Another suspicious situation averted. The replika popped tea bags into each mug - Darjeeling for Ariane, Black for Elster - and poured steaming water from the electric kettle.

She placed the steamy mugs on the table. "There you go," Elster said, sliding one over for Ariane.

"God, I love you, Ellie," Ariane moaned, taking the cup. She shut her eyes, breathing in the scent. She sighed. "...don't get me wrong. Tea is good. But have I mentioned I wish the Nation stocked us with coffee?"

"Only a hundred times," Elster chuckled, patting Ariane's shoulder affectionately. She walked back to the counter, fishing a pair of ration boxes from the stack they brought up the other day (read: years and years before, by Elster's personal reckoning). "I think we ran the numbers one time. In addition to long-term storage concerns for the beans, and the expense, coffee would produce so much extra waste material as to be impractical for the mission."

Ariane groaned, rubbing her face. "I know, I know," she said, massaging her eyelids. "I just...I could kill for a cup of strong coffee right now."

"Did you and your mom drink coffee on Leng?" Elster asked, already knowing the answer. The two had more or less this exact conversation once every six months or so, during their original flight.

"No, I developed my coffee habit on Rotfront," Ariane said, shaking her head. She sniffed the steam coming from her mug. "Like you said, coffee is expensive, especially on Leng. Tea was easier to ship in. Some outposts grew it hydroponically." She smiled. "The one nearest mom's station specialized in Darjeeling. It reminds me of home."

Hence why you drank it all first, Elster thought. Ariane faced the other way, so she didn't see Elster frown sadly. You were already overwrought, because the cycle 3000 message was still recent at the time. When the Darjeeling ran out, you were devastated.

Elster watched the back of Ariane's white head. A lump forming in the replika's throat.

You cried all night. Calling out for your mom, because it hit you that you'd never see her again.

Ariane jiggled the teabag by the little string, before deciding to steep a little longer. She looked over her shoulder. "...what's wrong?"

"Hmm?" Elster said, flinching. She forced a smile. "Sorry. Lost in thought."

The gestalt smiled. She faced forward again, shutting her eyes. "You're adorable when you're thinking," she giggled, finger tracing the rim of her mug lightly, despite the heat.

"I'm always thinking," Elster said, walking over with the rations. She smiled, knowing the response to come.

"Exactly," Ariane nodded, looking up at her lover of more years than she knew. "So my Ellie is always adorable."

"Ho ho," Elster chuckled softly, sitting. She handed Ariane her box. "So, what's on the itinerary today? I presume you're still not up to continue painting?"

Ariane nodded, sighing. "Yep. Head still hurts. Maybe if I'm feeling better later, we can give it a shot." She tore open the wrapping, laying contents out in front of her. She tore open a biscuit wrapper and took a bite. "Ah thk...ah'll tk..." She swallowed. "I think I'll take a shower first." She leaned back, resting her eyes. "God, I wish I could take a long shower."

Elster badly wished she could take advantage of their situation, and just adjust the timer on the shower. Vashtorr would probably never actually fuck up the water system, right? Simulating systems degradation to that degree gained the Daemon nothing. Alas, Elster had to maintain the illusion, which meant making level-headed decisions consistent with being still on the original Penrose mission.

It was only near the end, when everything was already going to shit, that Elster fucked with the shower timer. And only because her own organs were starting to fail, and needed extra time to bathe Ariane.

"What were you going to do, Elster?"

"Eh?" Elster said, snapping to attention. "Sorry."

"Lost in thought again?" Ariane said, popping the last of her biscuit into her mouth. "I asked what you were doing today."

"Oh, well," Elster said, looking down at her packet of hardtack. She pulled it open, took it out, and placed the used tea bag from her mug inside the wrapper. "I figured I'd stay with you."

"Isn't there work to do, though?" Ariane said, fishing her own teabag out. She stowed it in her biscuit wrapper. "Don't get me wrong..." The gestalt took a test sip of tea. Frowned. Still too hot. "...I'm always glad to spend time with you. But aren't there maintenance tasks that need doing? You spent all yesterday babysitting me while I slept."

"I never get tired of watching you sleep, Ariane," Elster smiled.

"Except when you leave," Ariane muttered, under her breath.

"Huh?" the replika said, leaning forward fractionally. "I didn't catch that."

"It's nothing," Ariane said, waving a hand. She sighed. "Look, you can't ignore the ship, just because I have a headache. One of us needs to be responsible." She gave a small smile. "It certainly won't be me. Not right now."

Elster sighed. "I suppose," she said. She smiled. "Maybe you could watch one of those war movies, since I'll be working."

"They're kind of loud, though," Ariane said, furrowing her brow. "My head might not like it."

"How about that one about the deep space battle?" Elster said, pointing. "The one where they're hunting each other in the asteroid field, using only radar? That one was pretty quiet." She smiled nervously. "Although obviously, I only know the first half of it."

Ariane leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "I never saw the other half of it either, now that I think of it." She smiled, ripping open the package on her protein bar. "I guess seeing the end would be kind of nice."

Elster chewed on the piece of hardtack, her titanium-reinforced teeth making short work of the rock-hard substance. She nodded, swallowing. "If you're in the mood for a double feature, I could join you for a nice romance movie."

"Sounds good," Ariane said, unable to resist taking a quick sip of the piping hot tea.

The replika smiled. While she'd prefer to spend every waking hour of her time on the illusory Penrose 512 with Ariane, there was nothing for it. She had to keep up the act, for Ariane's sake. Elster would need to content herself with knowing Ariane would get to see the end of a movie she otherwise wouldn't (because if Elster wasn't there, Ariane wouldn't experience time passing anyway).

Moreover, the reprieve would give Elster a chance to catch up on her reading. See if the newspaper issue she skipped contained any additional information on the Ruinstorm that she didn't already know.

---

"Absolutely not. We are not going through Phall."

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. Her face tinged green by the light of the tactical map below. "I know what Charity told you, Circe," she said.

"Then you know we can't go through the Phall system," Circe said, rubbing her aching head. "Charity's circle...sorry, her cadre, went to great lengths to give her that message, from beyond the grave."

"I'm sorry, what?" Dash said, cocking an eyebrow. She raised her head from where she leaned against a wall, arms crossed. "What's this about talking to dead people?"

"Long story, don't worry about it," Elster sighed, waving a hand at the Star. "Circe, I understand that the Phall system is dangerous. But we're on a timetable. I've conferred with Mik'hul about it. Phall is the fastest path."

"It's not even open, though!" Circe said, splaying her hands out. "I've been looking into it. Even from systems away, I can tell the place is wrapped in a Warp storm that's impenetrable."

The door slid open. Vanessa walked in, bearing a tray of tea. She looked between the arguing replikas.

Dash sighed, motioning the Eule over. "Thanks, Van," she said, taking a steaming mug.

"No problem," Vanessa whispered, nodding.

"Mik'hul assured me the path through Phall will open up by the time we get there," Elster said.

"And you believe him?" Circe said, raising her voice. "Elster, that guy is shady as fuck!"

"He also works for Vashtorr," Elster said, "so he can't go giving us intel that could get us all killed. That would be bad for the Arkifane's plans."

"Unless Tzeentch gave him contrary orders!" Circe said. She winced, clutching her head. "Fuck..."

Vanessa clacked a mug loudly onto the edge of the tactical table, right in front of Elster. "Enough, you two," she said, eyes shut.

Elster and Circe paused, going silent.

The Eule looked to Elster. "You take Black, right?" she said, nudging the mug over.

"..." Elster sighed. "Yes. Thank you, Vanessa."

Vanessa nodded, walking over to Circe. "Chai, with milk, right?" she said, handing over the cup.

Circe looked down at it from behind her hand, then nodded. "Th-thanks," she muttered, fingers slipping around the handle.

"Hey, you okay?" Vanessa asked, patting the Kolibri's shoulder.

"Y-yeah," Circe said. She took a small sip. "Head still hurts." She looked down at the milky liquid. "Thank you."

Vanessa smiled, rubbing the diminutive replika's shoulder.

Elster sighed. Took a sip. "...let's just...look at the map again." She tapped buttons.

Stylized lines formed over the region, with a blue blip indicating their own position.

"We have three choices, from our position," Elster said, pointing at the map. "We could hug the storm along the galactic south, braving Warp-storm corridors specifically designed to fuck up Imperium territory...and, obviously, bring us into that same Loyalist zone of albeit dubious control."

"That sounds bad," Dash said, from her position on the wall. She took a sip of tea.

"Admittedly, yes," Circe sighed. "Not ideal."

Elster pointed again. "We could hug the galactic north end of the squall, flying deep into Horusite lines." Her eyes craned up, looking at Circe. "Since Horus is backed by Chaos, we may not want to spend too much time among them. At the very least they'll be suspicious of unknown models of spacecraft with undeclared allegiance. At worst, their forces might be in the throes of...'religious fervor' for the Dark Gods."

"Also not ideal, yes," Circe said. She sipped her tea nervously.

"Both of those options also require us to go far out of our way," Elster said. "We won't have time to hit other jobs along the way. We'll barely have time to travel as it is, let alone make stops to repair and resupply."

"Can't we, you know, go up or down?" Dash said, frowning. When the others looked at her, she illustrated as best she could with one free hand and one hand holding a mug. "Galaxy's not a flat plane. Could we go 'over' or 'under' the storm?"

"We could try, yes," Elster said. "Which would largely bypass the two opposing sides. But..."

"We would need to venture so far away from the galactic plane," Circe said, closing her eyes, "it would mean venturing into areas of deep void. Fewer people to dodge, but also fewer stars or settled areas. The storm is huge. We'd be getting far out into the dark."

"Which means fewer opportunities for resupply, if we need it," Vanessa said, fingers playing with a lock of straw-colored hair. "No chance to find food. Probably no 'errands' to run for Vashtorr, either."

"Correct," Elster nodded. "Moreover, it has the same problem as going around along the two-dimension plane of the galaxy. We'll be going far out of our way, meaning less time to make our appointment in Xana."

"Oh," Dash said, frowning. "Shit."

"The last, of course," Elster said, looking down and pointing at the map, "is Phall. If it clears, like Mik'hul said, we could thread the needle, and come out the other side of this squall. Much faster, fewer jumps, hopefully fewer encounters with the belligerents, on either side."

Circe groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's still a risky plan. I don't like it."

"I know." Elster sighed, standing up straight. She sipped her tea, thoughtfully. "We can't avoid taking risks forever. But I understand." She looked Circe in the eyes. "Look, we're not at the point where we need to decide. We still have one more jump before we reach the edge. Let's just...keep moving forward for now. See if the storm starts to clear."

"If it doesn't?" Dash asked.

"Then we pick a direction to hug the storm, and accept we'll need to gun it to make up time," Elster said.

"And if we can't make it in time?" Vanessa said, chewing her thumb. "To Xana?"

"Then we don't," Elster shrugged. "We'll accept that we're just not going to make it, and find other jobs to do. There's no shortage of them."

Circe pursed her lips, agitated. "If the way is clear," she said, running a hand through her wild hair, "it doesn't make Phall safe. Charity was very clear. Thousands of bioresonant individuals, tortured and screaming."

Vanessa cringed, hugging herself. "That's..."

"...not great," Dash finished, hissing through clenched teeth. She looked away.

"I don't want that to happen to you and your kids either," Elster said, shaking her head. "This is just the choices we have. None are good." She sipped from her mug. "...what do you think? As head navigator, it's ultimately your decision where we fly."

Circe's hands clutched the mug. She stared into its milky surface.

"...okay," she said. "Let's...at least make one more jump, and see what's up..."

 

"You've got to be shitting me!"

The Nomarch's bridge crew stared in horror. First at the monitors, then at the front windows as the blast shields receded. Lights slowly came back on, as the Warp drive powered down, and the ship's systems redistributed power.

Tulip, shaking, looked over her shoulder. Her face backlit by the monitor in front of her, that was almost incandescent with blips on their radar. "...E-Elster!"

The replika commander's jaw was slack. "...I see it, Tulip," Elster said, gulping. She couldn't take her eyes off the horizon. Even at the far end of the system, it was impossible not to see.

Alone in the system, the Nomarch was not. The solar volume they translated into was teeming with void craft, of every scale known to the Imperium. From attack craft and transports, to Corvettes and Frigates, to Cruisers and mighty Battleships. There were hundreds of vessels, of greater or lesser size.

Not merely a fleet, but a dozen fleets. All massed in one system.

Elster chewed her thumb. Verdammt noch mal!

"Who are they?" asked an Ara, manning a forward console.

"I don't know," Tulip answered, staring at her monitor. "There's so many of them."

Diodana looked up from her station. "Commander," she said, "we are very much out of our depth here. Orders?"

Elster snapped to attention, her mind racing. "Diodana, can we get the Cloak Device working?" she said, adjusting her dress captain's hat. "We need to maintain a low profile, while there's still too much activity for us to be noticed."

"Not immediately," Diodana said, shaking her head. "The reactor needs to rebuild power, after our jump." She turned back to the station. "I will activate it as soon as I am able."

The commander chewed her lip. "Shit, okay," she muttered. "Tulip, do we have any asteroid fields nearby? We need to take cover, while we recharge."

"I'll look for some!" Tulip said, typing furiously. Trying to isolate the hundreds of signals on her screen, to make finding non-ship objects easier.

Elster steepled her fingers pensively. Without their particular Archeotech boon, pulled from the conglomeration of space debris back in Eusan, they were sitting ducks. The Device, which took up an entire room of the ship, was the only reason they could evade unwanted attention up until now. She very much did not want to be caught in the open with a whole fleet of ships.

Hopefully, they were so overwhelmed with data about each other, coordinating...whatever it was they were doing in-system, they wouldn't notice one more sub-Escort craft amid hundreds. At least not until they were safely ensconced in a load of innocuous local space rocks.

"Everyone remain calm," Elster said, to the bridge crew. "So long as they're all heading off to join their little gathering, we'll be far enough away to-"

BREEE. BREEE. BREEE.

"ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG! PROXIMITY ALERT!"

Bright red emergency lights flashed.

The entire bridge jumped, looking around.

Elster leaned over her personal console, gritting her teeth. "What's going on!? Status report!"

Tulip, hunched in fear, looked down at a flashing indicator on her monitor. "I-it's coming from..." She gasped. "ABOVE!"

A shadow fell over the cameras pointing in every direction, but especially those looking up. A massive shadow, that blotted out the stars in a wide column.

Everyone, Elster included, ducked in panic as the object surged over and past them. Far outpacing their tiny craft, in proportion to the degree to which it dwarfed them.

"Fuck!" Elster cried, clutching her hat down hard on her head. She didn't have much trauma related to aircraft flying low over her head. But no human could be expected to react without alarm. "What the shit is that?"

Diodana brought up camera feed of the ship on her own monitor. "Ah, that is an Astartes Strike Cruiser," she said. "Thankfully, they appear to have missed us, intentionally or not."

The cameras and windows showed further dozens of escort craft that circled or followed the Strike Cruiser. Even the smallest being larger than the Nomarch.

Panting, Elster clutched her racing heart. She gulped. "Can we tell their Legion from here?"

Furious typing. Diodana nodded. "Ninety percent positive it bears the colors of the 4th Legion, Iron Warriors."

"Loyalists? Here?" Elster said, clutching at her heart harder. She was on the verge of panic. She remembered that day on Heimat. The Astartes warrior leveling the bolter at her. The bright flash, then darkness.

"Incorrect, commander," Diodana said, turning around. "You are thinking of the 10th Legion, Iron Hands. They were the ones stationed in the Eusan system during the Invasion. The Iron Warriors are a separate, unrelated Legion."

A knot loosened in Elster's gut. She breathed deep. "Right, right," she said, nodding. "I remember now. These are...ngh...Horus aligned." She shooked her head, fanning her face with her hat. Brushed fingers through her hair. "I lost my head for a second there."

Granted, they were "traitors", so it still wasn't "good" to see them. Especially since Elster was almost entirely ignorant of their Legion's disposition.

Still, they weren't Iron Hands. Elster sighed, permitting herself a relieved smile.

The Iron Hands were all but wiped out, if the last "newspaper" issue mentioning the "Dropsite Massacre" was any indication. Elster generally had little antipathy towards most Space Marines, in and of themselves. Save as violent instruments of the Imperium's regime and war machine. But if she truly hated any of them...well...

Eat shit, you mother-fuckers, Elster thought.

"Orders, Elster?" said Tulip, looking over her shoulder. "I mean, Commander?"

"Same as before," Elster said, standing up straight. "We peel off, quick and quiet, and take shelter somewhere until the Cloak Device is rea-"

Bing. Bing. Bing.

Maria stared down at her console. She scowled. "Uh, C-Commander?" she said, pointing at the monitor, while fumbling with her headset.

Elster looked over. "Oh god, what now?"

Maria looked over her shoulder, frowning.

"That big ship?" She pointed at her radio and smiled nervously. "It's hailing us."

Elster scowled. A new bead of sweat formed on her brow.

Fuck.

Notes:

While I refer to the Iron Warriors vessel hailing them as a "Strike Cruiser', this is for the sake of simplicity and for a point of reference. A cursory glance at the 40K wiki(s) seem to suggest "Strike Cruiser", as a Space Marine category of starship, may be a post-Heresy invention, based on Vulcan's "Ebon Drake" design. No idea how true this is, only that it's what the Wikia page seems to contend. (So, take that with a grain of salt).

All that really needs to be taken away from this chapter is that it's a "Cruiser" size craft, smaller than whatever the Heresy-era equivalent of a "Battle Barge" is. Void craft are an entire separate and intricate field within the larger body of 40K lore, and ain't nobody got time for that.

Chapter 35: Iron Serpent

"Attention unknown vessel. This is the Strike Cruiser Serpens Ferreus, of the 4th Legion Iron Warriors. Identify yourself immediately, or you will be fired upon."

Maria looked back fearfully, hand clutching the microphone. "What do I do?" she mouthed silently, trembling.

"Answer!" Elster whispered, hands gesturing frantically. She chewed her lip, sweat pouring down her face.

Maria nodded, then turned back to the radio. She depressed the microphone. "Th-this is the...uh...vessel Nomarch Zero Six," she said, shaking like a leaf. She smiled nervously, despite being unseen. "P-please do not fire! We are no threat to you."

"Nomarch 06," the stern voice issued from the speakers, "broadcast your ident-tags immediately."

"I-Ident-tags? I don't..." Maria said, gulping. She looked over her shoulder.

Elster shrugged, frowning.

"What do you mea-" the speaker said, before abruptly cutting off.

The replikas (and tech priest) waited anxiously. The silence was deafening.

Moments later, a new voice came on over the speakers. Deep, sonorous, annoyed. "...is that mongrel vessel of yours capable of vid-capture, Nomarch?"

Before Maria could register the question, Diodana whispered, "Yes."

"Y-yes!" Maria repeated, looking sideways at the tech priest.

"Do so," the voice barked. "I would speak to your captain, at once."

"R-right! We'll do that!" Maria cried, before snapping off the mic.

"Places, replikas!" Diodana called, clapping metal hands together. "As we rehearsed! Get the camera and view screen ready!"

Aras on deck ran around in a flurry of activity. Switches were flipped, buttons pressed, and wires redistributed. A storage compartment opened, from which a cart was wheeled.

Elster sighed, mouth screwed up in tension. Needing to communicate through video was never ideal, given their nature as beings proscribed by Mechanicum orthodoxy. But it was an eventuality the Nomarch prepared for, nonetheless. A capability bootstrapped by looted equipment from the Joys of Duty, whose interface hadn't been fully, permanently installed in the Nomarch's bridge. It was never needed before, and retrofitting the bridge's consoles further represented another round of work that competed with a million other jobs.

So much to do, Elster thought, massaging her forehead, so little time to do it. She huffed, adjusting her dress captain's hat.

She pulled out her hand radio. "Adler, Dash," she said, thumbing the button, "report to the bridge. We've been contacted, slash threatened, by a Horus-aligned starship."

"Shit!" Dash reported a second later. "On my way!"

"I'll arrive shortly as well," Adler said, more calmly. "Over."

"Received, over," Elster said.

A second later, Circe's voice entered Elster's head. I heard the report on the radio, she thought. Do I need to come up there?

Stay in the chamber, Circe, Elster thought. Send Isis instead. I need you in place, in case we need emergency translation.

Understood. Isis will be along shortly.

Elster sighed, wringing her hands. As she waited, pacing the room, she heard a different thought in her mind. A distant voice.

Boss, I gotta tell you something.

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. Not now, Mik'hul. We're kind of busy.

A large screen was wheeled out behind Elster's console. A camera bolted on top of the screen, pointing toward her. Aras rushed to plug wires into ports, while others locked the wheels of the cart the screen perched on. Crude by the standards of any formal naval operation. But needs must.

It's these dudes I'm talking about, boss, Mik'hul thought. The big man - by which I mean Tzeentch - has a message. Some special words for getting them to listen.

Elster winced. They're certainly listening right now, Elster thought, her insides squirming. They're demanding a face to face talk.

Moreover, though she didn't voice it in her mind, Elster had no desire to take advice directly from one of the Ruinous Powers. Least of all the Architect of Fate himself. Not if she could help it.

Maria winced. The radio speakers were deactivated, so she alone heard the voice on the other end. "...a-apologies, Serpens Ferreus," she said, pressing a hand to a headphone. "We are...currently experiencing technical difficulties with our vid setup. It will be but a moment!" She thumbed the microphone off, looking over her shoulder nervously.

An Ara plugged the last wire into the screen, then threw a thumbs up to Diodana.

The tech priest nodded, then tapped her keyboard furiously. The screen turned on, a blue field with a set of white numbers in the corner. Diodana turned around and signaled their commander.

Elster nodded. Stood up straight, in front of the camera. Adjusted her uniform. Brushed a lock of black hair behind her ear.

One of the doors behind her opened. Dash ran in carrying her trusty Eusan Nation shotgun. "Sorry I'm late," she said, huffing. "I had to run up from the firing range."

"Stand behind me," Elster said, pointing. "We're going to have a face to face chat with the other ship. I need a show of strength."

"Shit," Dash panted, eyeing the large Cruiser through the front windows, and the collection of escort craft accompanying it. She took her position behind and to Elster's right, putting on her face mask.

The other door behind Elster, on the opposite end of the wall, slid open. Adler strolled calmly into the room. "Commander," he said.

Elster nodded. "Stand here," she said, pointing to a spot back and to her left. "We're about to have a telecom meeting with the other ship."

"Understood," Adler said, taking his position. Clasped his hands behind his back. He stared forward at the screen, impassively.

Elster nodded to Diodana. "We're ready," she said.

Diodana gestured to Maria, then began typing.

Maria gulped, then flicked on the microphone. "Achtung, Serpens Ferreus," she said. "We are ready to receive video," She thumbed the mic off, listening to a reply on the headphones.

Scarcely five seconds later, the console in front of Diodana began to beep. She tapped buttons, then turned. Pointed to Elster, nodding.

Elster nodded back, then stared as the blue field on the screen shifted into digital artifacts. Then, resolved itself into a stylized image of something resembling an angular, metal skull, with a machine grill for teeth. Framed by four lightning bolts extending outward.

The commander inhaled. Exhaled. Clasped her hands behind her back, waiting. The whole bridge, including those replikas that filtered in slowly from other rooms or left their consoles, held their breaths.

Finally, the screen switched to a live feed of another bridge. A far larger, more advanced, more heavily staffed bridge. Gestalts in gray uniforms milled about in the background. Some were naval officers and crew, conversing quietly or manning stations. Some were clearly servitors, heavily augmented and lobotomized human slaves. Multiple servitors were outright wired into their consoles, brains serving as wetware cogitators.

Towering above these were figures in power armor. Their ceramite plates appearing, for all the world, like naked steel. Utilitarian, bolstered by power couplings. Their shoulder pads bore the same stylized robo-skull that appeared on the graphic at the start of the broadcast. Their only embellishment, scattered here and there on the armor, was black and yellow hazard stripe patterns. Most legionaries helmeted, so their degree of interest in the proceedings remained unknowable.

Dominating the center of the frame was a throne of plain steel. Festooned with piping and wire, snaking down into the floor of a raised dais. A space marine, his armor simultaneously more ornate than that of his fellows and stubbornly utilitarian, sat on the throne. One gauntleted fist clutched the haft of an immense Power Axe. The other tapped impatiently on the throne's armrest, on which many buttons were installed.

His large head was bald and pale. The lower half of his face was covered in a rebreather mask. One eye replaced by an oversized augmetic, the skin around it an aggravated red. The sole remaining eye squinted in annoyance. It regarded the replikas on the other side of the screen with naked contempt.

Elster gulped, face stoic even as she struggled to suppress the alarm bells going off in her head about the Astartes.

"I am Tankred Kurl," said the marine, his voice deep and gravely, "Captain of the 4th Legion's 135th Company, and commander of the Serpens Ferreus." He narrowed his gaze. "Identify yourself."

The replika nodded. "I am Elster, Commander of the Nomarch Zero Six," she spoke firmly. "We are a mercenary company. It is an honor, my lord." She bowed her head.

"Yes, it is," Kurl said, glancing briefly away. "I will not ask why you failed to supply your ship's ident-tags. Your mongrel vessel plainly has none."

Diodana, now stood beside the screen, out of camera frame, bristled. But she said nothing.

The Space Marine tapped impatiently on the armrest again. "State your business here."

Elster raised a hand, smiling nervously. "My company and I were merely passing through, Captain," she said.

"Passing through," he said, cocking a shaved eyebrow. "While in the midst of war? Into the very heart of a Legion fleet? Deep in territory staked by the Warmaster?"

A bead of sweat rolled down Elster's face. She nodded. "That's correct," Elster said. "We're in a great deal of hurry, and need to-"

"To whom do you declare allegiance," asked Kurl, firmly, "cyborg?"

"We are, in principle, independent," Elster said, shrinking slightly. "But I can assure you, my company and I have no love for the Imperium of Man. And are thoroughly sympathetic to the cause of Warmaster Horus."

"A likely story," said the Captain, narrowing his eye. "I do not trust strange ships with no identification, disturbing military operations." He raised his voice incrementally. "How am I to know your rabble are not spies?"

Elster cringed, gritting her teeth. "I, uh..."

Boss, boss, came Mik'hul's distant voice. I can tell you exactly what to say. Just hear me out.

Not. Now. Mik'hul. Elster thought, smiling nervously. "I can only supply my word that we mean no harm."

"Your word is worthless, as are you," Kurl said, seething. "Who do you work for? Truly?"

Elster looked around. Many replikas without proper clearance were on the bridge. Watching. Listening.

"..." She sighed. "Our employer is Vashtorr the Arkifane."

The Space Marine squinted. "...who?"

All the unitiated replikas on the bridge also looked around, confused.

Elster facepalmed. "Vashtorr. The Arkifane." She waved her hand in front of her in a circular motion. "Master of the Soul Forges, Dark Artificer."

"I have no idea who that is," Kurl said. He looked over his shoulder. "Does anyone know who this worm speaks of?"

The unmodified gestalts in their midst said nothing, merely standing impassively or redoubling attention on work. The servitors, of course, did not even register the comment, so absorbed in running the ship.

The legionaries either chuckled sardonically, looked between them, or remained silent.

The replika commander bristled. Seriously? she thought. I know he's a lesser Chaos power, but surely Vashtorr can't be unknown among the followers of Chaos. Can he?

The realization struck Elster that she was an astoundingly small fish in a huge pond, as was her "employer". Both on the galactic stage, and in terms of the powers cosmic. That even the demi-god she was indebted to was a bit player, grasping for relevance amid the greater intelligences of the Warp.

She coughed. "...he is...counted among the powers of the Warp," Elster said, finally. She couldn't help seeing her children become more than a little confused or shocked by this revelation.

Kurl regarded Elster quizzically. A mote of recognition in his eyes. Then, exasperation. "Ngh," he groaned, rubbing his temple, above his facial augmetics. "More damned cultists."

From offscreen, another space marine walked into frame, behind the iron throne. Another officer of some kind, steel-colored helmet daubed roughly in white paint to form a skull. He carried a scepter, or some manner of crozius. His armor, unlike the brutally functional fare displayed by the Iron Warriors broadly, was draped in animal pelts and animal bone tokens.

The Chaplain regarded Elster intensely, silently.

The replika commander wrung her hands, clenched her teeth. She just divulged sensitive information in the presence of children not cleared to learn it. Word would almost certainly get out. And in the end, it barely seemed to phase the Captain. He seemed to understand the gist of the situation. He just didn't care.

She chewed her lip. What was the use of having a daemonic patron, amid other forces pledged to Chaos, if it afforded her no consideration?

Need some help there, boss?

Elster didn't have the energy to rebuke the daemon. She sighed, adjusting her hat.

"In any event," Kurl said, sitting up. "You are not worth my time. Gunners, prepare to blast this mongrel ship to pieces, so we may..."

"No!" Elster cried, extending a hand. "We're not a threat to you! There's no need to do that!"

The replikas in the room, including the senior staff, grew agitated. Those behind the cameras muttered frantically among themselves.

Diodana quietly whipped Aras into gear. "Raise the void shields to maximum!" she whispered. Even she know, however, there was little chance of survival, if a Strike Cruiser fired upon them.

"Commander, this is very bad," Adler said, leaned in. He rubbed his chin nervously.

"Threat or not, you waste my time," Kurl said, seeming now bored. "You have nothing I care about. I would have you out of sight, out of mind. Gunners!"

"Ma'am!" Dash said, clapping a hand on Elster's shoulder.

Elster's heart raced. She gritted her teeth.

Want some help now, boss?

She gulped. Fine, okay! she thought, mind racing a mile a minute. What do I do?

The replika commander could feel the sly grin, even far away. Don't worry, boss. Tzeentch has their number, Mik'hul thought. Repeat after me...

Elster's mouth felt dry.

"Elster!" Dash yelled, looking fearfully at the screen.

The replika commander stood up straight, pressing a fist to her chest. "Captain Tankred Kurl!" she shouted.

Hand raised to signal end of transmission, the space marine officer paused. He regarded Elster.

Elster inhaled.

"And I beheld, three times, the Iron Son of Olympus will clash with the Ocher Fists..."

The space marine Captain tilted his head, confused. "...what...?"

The Chaplain, half turned away, snapped his attention back to the screen.

Heart racing, Elster continued. "...on the first day, where the twin orbs are left barren and the witches scream, the Fists will turn their blade to the Iron Son. But their blade will turn away..."

Kurl's hand balled into a fist. The Chaplain stared, rapt.

"...on the second day, the Iron Son will siege the walls of his father's house. The Fists fortify, but it avails them not. The walls are breached..."

The Chaplain stalked forward. "And on the third day? What did you see?" he cried, voice cutting through the filter of his mask. He extended a hand, palm up, expectantly.

"...on the third day," Elster said, leaning forward, "I saw an iron cage. The Fists broke themselves against the bars..."

"Yes! And?" the Chaplain cried, shaking his fists, one clutched around his scepter.

"...and the Iron Son of Olympus Ascends. To take his place among the Lords." Elster coughed, waiting briefly for further words, that did not come.

Gauntleted fists clenched. "It is the same dream!" the Chaplain howled to the ceiling. "The same dream as mine! The Dark Ones have spoken!"

The replika commander gulped. From the sound of the Chaplain's manic cackling, Elster surmised the Architect of Fate's plan, whatever it was, had its desired effect.

You're welcome, boss. Heh heh heh.

Tankred Kurl, watching his subordinate with confusion, turned back to the screen. "...what was that?"

"Yes," Adler whispered into Elster's ear, "I would like to know that as well."

"The fuck?" Dash muttered, looking between her commander and the screen.

Both bridges were filled with quiet confusion.

Elster looked sideways. She spotted Isis.

Elster... the Kolibri thought, wringing her hands, What did you do?

On the ethereal winds, came the voice of her sister, to both of them. She told a story, Shahrazad thought. It has that kind of effect on people.

The Captain sighed. "If you are quite finished," he groaned, "I'd like to..."

The Chaplain walked to the officer's side and leaned down. Helmet obscured his face, but his body language was clear. He whispered into Kurl's ear.

Kurl tilted his head, squinting. He looked at the priest. "...what?" He looked at the replika. "Her?"

More whispering.

Elster clenched her fists, trying to fight down the fear. Chewed her lip.

At last, Kurl sighed. "Fine, fine," he muttered. He looked at Elster. "Continue flying. Follow us. Do not break away, or try anything foolish." He eyed his excited companion. "I must...deliberate further, with Chaplain Goria."

"Of course, Captain," Elster said, bowing.

The feed cut out, replaced with the metal skull logo. It held that image going forward.

For a beat, all was silent. Then, the bridge rang with chatter and cheers.

"Congrats, ma'am!" Dash said, patting Elster's shoulder. She smiled. "We didn't die!"

"I never doubted, of course," Adler said, clasping hands behind his back. Still, a tension visibly left his frame, as he exhaled.

Elster, staring into space, quietly walked backwards and sank into her big chair. She sighed, burying her head in her hands. "...fuck..." she breathed.

"You okay, Elster?" Isis said, walking over and sitting down at the base of her chair. She patted Elster's leg.

"Yeah, I'm...just wiped out," Elster said, shaking her head. "I need a minute."

"Do not grow too comfortable," Diodana said, walking over. "They merely deliberate. They may yet elect to destroy us."

Elster looked up at the tech priest. "Can our void shields...?"

"Not a chance," Diodana said, shaking her head. "Even with the void shield generators attached to the hull, we simply cannot coax enough power from the reactor to sustain hits from even one of the Serpens Ferreus's escort craft, for very long. Let alone from the Strike Cruiser itself. We would be overwhelmed, then annihilated."

"I figured," Elster said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hopefully, Mik'hul's bullshit will work to make them agreeable."

"What?" Dash cried, leaning over. "That prophecy shit was from...him?"

Isis frowned. "Elster, that's..."

Circe butted in. Elster, that was extremely reckless, she thought, loud in Elster's mind. You always told us never to listen to Mik'hul! Have you taken leave of your senses?

"I know, I know," Elster said, shaking her head. She took off her captain's hat and stroked her hair back, feeling the sweat on her scalp. "It wasn't my plan. I just...ran out of options..."

"We were about to meet a messy end, it is true," Diodana said, nodding.

Elster sighed, rubbing her temples. "Everybody just...take five, okay? We'll wait and see what these guys have to say."

 

"They're back on the line! They're ready to talk again!"

The assembled replikas (and gestalt) stopped what they were doing. Bridge crew rushed back to their stations. Random bystanders ducked to either side of the screen to watch. Senior staff began finding their places.

"We'll talk later, Circe," Elster said, nodding to the two Kolibri.

"Should I take over comms?" Vanessa said, beginning to walk out of frame. "Since apparently, we're discussing sensitive topics?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Later," Elster said, frowning. "Places, people!"

"You heard her! Move!" Hippolyta said, waving with one hand while another clutched a lasgun. She took her place on the side of Elster opposite Dash. Adler stood next to her.

"Diodana?" Elster called, taking her position and adjusting her captain's uniform.

"Ready," the tech priest replied, sitting at her console.

Thirty seconds later, with everyone in place and the space marines notified, the symbol of the Iron Warriors disappeared from the screen. Replaced, once again, with a live feed of the Strike Cruiser's bridge.

Captain Tankred Kurl, once again, sat in his iron throne. Chaplain Goria stood at his side. What may have been senior lieutenants or other officers milled around behind them, giving cursory glances to the viewing screen.

"Captain Kurl," Elster said, giving a bow.

"Nomarch Commander," Kurl said, sounding tired. "My officers and I have discussed matters at length." He side-eyed his Chaplain. "Chaplain Goria, our company's esteemed priest of the warrior lodge..." The word "esteemed" was spoken with a mixture of professionalism and disgust. "...argued at length in your defense..."

"A fact for which we are all grateful," Elster said, clapping her hands together. She bowed, first to the Captain, than to Goria.

"Oh, no," said the Chaplain, his voice honeyed, "thank YOU. It is endlessly gratifying to hear my dreams confirmed. A fellow acolyte of the Dark Gods is always welcome to my service."

Elster grinned nervously, swallowing hard. She looked around, seeing the discomfit of her younger children. "I...aim to please..."

Kurl groaned. "In any event," he seethed. "Goria and I have conferred with other fleet commanders we can reach. A consensus has been reached." The word carried a measure of resignation. As if he didn't so much come into accord with the other parties, so much as simply agree for the sake of expediency.

Elster gulped, waiting patiently.

"...that is," Kurl said, sighing, "your particular matter is clearly of such import, it must be brought up the chain of command."

Senior replikas on the Nomarch looked at each other, then to Elster.

Oh, Elster thought, pressing fingers to her lips, I see. You're using the "prophecy" as an excuse to kick this problem upstairs, so you don't need to deal with it.

Elster nodded, puffing her cheeks. "Very well," she said, nodding. "What happens now?"

"You will follow," Kurl commanded, in a tone that brooked no dissent. "The Serpens Ferreus will rendezvous, as planned, with the rest of the battle group. You will fall in line, and not deviate from our course. Do otherwise, and you will be fired upon. Understood?"

"Yes. Understood." Elster nodded, nervously. She frowned. "What...if we cannot keep up? Our ship is hardly as fast as your esteemed vessels."

"You will travel as fast as your vessel is able," Kurl said, restraining annoyance. "You are fortunate other members of the fleet are even later in arrival in-system than us." His eye looked down, his gauntleted finger tapping the buttons on his armrest. "You will be provided coordinates for where to go. And a set of interim ident-tags, if such are demanded of you." He narrowed his eye at Elster. "Do not embarrass me, cyborg. You are guests of the Legion, and your conduct reflects on me. Understood?"

"Yes. Understood," Elster nodded. She could tell, his words carried the unspoken threat of what would happen should she negatively impact his standing or reputation.

"Good," Kurl said. "We shall speak again in 168 hours, our projected arrival time. Good day."

Elster had only a second to say "good day!", before the feed cut out. She sighed, slumping down into her chair again.

"Good job, ma'am," Dash said, clapping her on the shoulder.

"Indeed," Adler said, nodding. "Any encounter where we avoid death is admirable."

"A hundred sixty-eight hours?" Hippolyta said, receiving a hug from Circe. She patted her lover on the back.

"One week," Adler said, picking up a clipboard from a chair he placed it earlier. He fished a pencil from his pocket and began erasing.

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. "Diodana, will we be able to make that?"

"It depends on the exact location of the fleet's amassing," Diodana said, walking over, "and the Serpens Ferreus's intended placement within the formation. But, assuming we can build to enough speed, it should be doable. If nothing else, assuming other ships in the fleet arrive sometime tomorrow or later, whatever military action the Iron Warriors prepare for will be on hold. If we are slightly late, we will still almost certainly arrive before or alongside those stragglers."

"Can the engines handle it?" Vanessa said, fingers rubbing a lock of straw-colored hair.

"It should be within tolerances," Daisy said, looking up from Tulip's console, where she and her younger sibling were conversing. "We can build speed over the course of days. So long as we're accelerating and not making sudden course changes, it should be obvious we're not dawdling."

Tulip gulped, looking at her console.

Daisy rubbed her shoulder. "Just keep flying straight after them, and you'll be fine, Tulip." She forced a smile.

Circe sighed, hugging Hippolyta as the Storch squatted low to the floor. "I just hope we're not flying into a trap."

Isis shrugged, arms crossed. "If they wanted us dead, they'd have just shot us right here," she said. "It's not like we stood a chance, either of fighting or running away."

"Don't get me wrong, Circe," Elster said, resting her head on her arm propped against the armrest. "I'm not exactly happy about being roped into...whatever this is. But Isis has a point."

"I know," Circe said, looking down at the floor. She frowned.

"..." Elster looked sidelong at the Kolibri. "...if we're permitted to go on our way...do you want us to go into Phall? Assuming it's possible, anyway?"

Circe sighed. "No. But I'm starting to think we might have to."

Hippolyta rubbed Circe's back. "It's your decision where we go, babe. We can go the long way. And if those assholes say otherwise..." She scowled at the screen.

"What?" Circe said, smiling. "You're going to fist-fight their Captain? We don't stand a chance against even one ship of Space Marines, Hip. Let alone a fleet of them." She kissed Hippolyta on the cheek. "Thanks, though."

"No problem," Hippolyta smiled, kissing the Kolibri on the forehead.

"We can still pivot," Elster said. "They know we want safe passage. We're still yet to tell them where we're going."

Circe rubbed her temple. "I'm thinking about it," she said. She frowned. "But..."

"The storm is starting thin," Isis said, crossing her arms. "At least, in the direction of Phall. We might have clear sailing through it, at this rate."

"Which might be what the Iron Warriors are counting on," Elster said, looking forward. "Horus and his forces having the backing of..." She paused, eyeing non-senior bridge crew on the periphery.

A couple Aras and a Eule conversed, eyeing the senior staff curiously. When Elster met their eyes, they turned away nervously, whispering.

"...they have the backing of their patrons," Elster said, finally. "They may have advance warning of when this storm moves on..." She scowled. Or the Ruinous Powers might be making way for them, she thought. Hence why they're so confident amassing forces here.

"No sense dwelling on it too much," Dash shrugged. "We have another week to decide. Guess we should make the most of it."

"Agreed," Adler said, flipping through his clipboard, making notes. "Since we have an additional week of impulse, at least, before next translation, I will revise the work schedules." He made for the door.

"And I shall perform further maintenance," Diodana said, turning away. "ARAR-N0601, attend me!"

"Coming!" Daisy called. She patted Tulip's shoulder and ran after.

"Guess we'll get the newbies more practice at the range," Hippolyta said, standing up. "Wanna watch, babe?"

"Maybe," Circe said, shrugging. She held the Storch's hand as they wandered off. Dash and Isis followed them.

Elster sighed, staring forward.

Vanessa stood next to Elster. "...something on your mind?" the Eule said.

Cheek resting against her knuckles, Elster narrowed her eyes. "What could the higher ups in the Iron Warriors want from us?" she muttered. "Was what I said really so important?"

"I couldn't say," Vanessa said, shrugging. "I wasn't here. What did you say?"

It wasn't really what Elster said that bothered her.

It was that the Changer of Ways felt it necessary or advantageous to throw them a bone. Or, perhaps, that Chaplain Goria hearing his visions confirmed somehow alters the course of events.

Elster hated being a crux of destiny. Especially when she had no idea what that destiny was.

Chapter 36: Perturbed

"Oh, it's you."

LSTR-R1109 held up her hands, watching the Storch's pistol lower. "...what?" the replika said, confused. "I don't..."

"I thought you were going to be gone for years," Beatrice said, walking over. She shrugged. "The war getting too hot for...?"

A twinge in the throat. A metallic taste. 1109 bent over, coughing. One hand clutched her chest, the other over her mouth. She felt her palm dampen, warm liquid slipping between her fingers. She didn't need to see the scarlet by the dim light filtering down through the grates above.

"Hey, you okay?" Beatrice said, walking up, bent over under the low ceiling. "Fuck, that's a lot of..."

The LSTR looked up, her hand coming away slick with oxident.

"Oh, my mistake," the Storch said, frowning. "You're that other LSTR, aren't you? R1109?"

"...hac...how..." 1109 croaked, coughing, "...how did you...?"

"She told us to expect you," Beatrice said, extending a hand to hover over the LSTR's shoulder. "Mind if I...?" When the shorter replika nodded, she patted her shoulder. "Fuck, you're in bad shape." She pulled out an electric lantern, turning it on. By the defused light, she studied 1109's face, watching her squint in the glare. "You're so pale. And fuck, that's a lot of oxident."

"I'm...hac...fine," 1109 croaked, before another coughing fit seized her. She felt lightheaded, and braced herself against the moist wall of the utility tunnel. She left spatters of scarlet on the floor grates.

"Fuck you, you're not," Beatrice said, tucking a hand under the LSTR's armpit. She let the replika's coughing fit subside, then helped her up. "Come on. The Aras have been expecting you. We got everything ready."

The fugitive allowed herself to be walked down the hall, wheezing. She found herself leaning more and more on the taller unit's help, just to walk. "You don't...have to..."

"Shut up," Beatrice said. "I'm helping you, and that's final."

 

"Mom?"

LSTR-R1109 sat in a chair on the periphery of the room, overlooking the conversation pit. She coughed, then looked up at the Ara, confused. "...mom...?"

Poppy pressed a hand to her mouth, seeing the scarlet caking the LSTR unit's hand and sleeve. Scarlet like the robes the Ara wore. Then, she exhaled. "Oh, sorry, I was mistaken." She forced a smile. "You're the one Elster talked about. Welcome to the Rotfront Replika Enclave." Performed a little bow.

"...uh..." 1109 groaned, trying to suppress another coughing fit. She failed, doubling over and hacking painfully.

"Oh dear," Poppy said, touching her cheek. "You are sick."

"Yep," Beatrice nodded, as she leaned against the wall beside 1109. "She's about ready to cough the lung up, at this rate."

"Thank you for bringing her in," Poppy said, nodding to the Storch. She knelt beside the LSTR. "Do you have a name I can call you?"

1109 coughed, then shook her head. "...no...never n-needed...hac...one..."

"Shh, shh," Poppy said, stroking the LSTR's arms. "Don't strain yourself. We'll get you fixed up immediately." She forced a smile.

The LSTR eyed the Ara warily. "...why...huff...do you look...hac...like one of those...tech priests...?"

"Don't worry about that, now," Poppy said, stroking the LSTR's hand. She looked to Beatrice. "Beat, can you help her up? We'll take her to surgery room 2."

"Sure," Beatrice said, stooping. "Can you walk?"

Fighting off a coughing fit, 1109 nodded. "...hac...I can..." She tried to rise, letting the Storch tuck hands under her arm. As she rose, her legs felt wobbly. She tried to get her hooves under her, only to sag as another bout of coughing hit. She sprayed oxident on the stone ground. She wheezed, "...hac...verdammt..."

Beatrice sighed, then tucked one arm behind the LSTR's knees. "Go limp," she said. "I'll carry you."

"You don't have...to..." 1109 croaked, before another cough. Unable to stand on her own, she allowed herself to be tilted back. The Storch picked her up in her arms. "...ha..." she gasped, shutting her eyes.

"It's worse than I thought," Poppy said, pressing the back of her hand to the LSTR's forehead.

"She's been coughing up tons of oxidizing fluid since I found her," Beatrice said. "She was pale when she arrived, too."

"I don't like the color of her fluids, either," Poppy said, frowning. Staring down at the scarlet covering the ground. "Could be infection. Does your oxident organ hurt?"

With ragged breathing, trying not to cough, 1109 could only nod blindly.

"Let's get moving," Poppy said, turning around.

The LSTR blinked up at the chandelier, as she felt herself carried across the room. The Storch stooped under a low ceiling, entering a long tunnel. 1109 looked sideways, at red grow lamps that peeked from behind dense foliage. White flowers, turned crimson in the light. They smelled sweet, and the air was moist from gurgling water.

She couldn't remember when she last saw so many living plants. Even before the buildup of industry by the Imperium, Rotfront was a frozen, polluted wasteland. Green, growing things only found in hydroponics gardens or greenhouses, which the LSTR unit hadn't visited hardly ever. Her work for the Nation never required it. Her years as a fugitive, dumpster diving for food and tools, never gave her the opportunity.

"Holy Omnissiah, is that mom?"

1109 looked over, as they crossed paths with two more replikas talking in the halls. One was an Ara, with a scar over one eye (mismatched color). The other...

"It's not mom, Pansy," Poppy said, shaking her head. "This is the LSTR she told us to look out for."

"Fuck, she looks like shit," Pansy said, leaning over. They raised their own electric lantern and inspected the ailing replika. "That's a lot of oxident."

Erica frowned, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Oh my," she said. She looked to Poppy. "Which surgery room were you thinking?"

"Number 2," Poppy said. "It's where the new LSTR organs are stored. We'll need the left lung..." She looked over to 1109. "...probably get the Oxident Organ prepped too, just in case. And a couple bags of oxident."

"Right," Erica nodded. She ran off ahead.

The LSTR stared at Pansy. She coughed. "...hac...what are...you...?"

"Hmm?" Pansy said, looking 1109 in the eyes. "Oh, I'm an Ara, same as the others." They smiled. "Name's Pansy. Pronouns They/Them."

The LSTR looked down at the nonbinary replika's chest. Gears turned in her head. "...oh..." She frowned. "...why is...your body Empire?"

"We'll talk about that later," Poppy said, patting 1109's head. "Pansy, go get Kris. I'll need another pair of hands for the surgery."

"No problem," Pansy said. They turned and jogged off.

"Let's get her to the room for prep," Poppy said, tugging on Beatrice's shirt sleeve.

"Right," Beatrice said, following.

The LSTR felt her vision swimming. She hated being carried, but could tell she wouldn't have made it this far on her own. She breathed slow and ragged. "...are...all of you...hers?"

"Not everyone," Poppy said, without looking. "Some replikas, like Erica and Beatrice, were here before Elster - our Elster - found them. This is their refuge. We've been staying here to help them out."

"Really, your mom's brood is colonizing the place," Beatrice said. But she did so with a good-natured tone. She chuckled. "Not that I'm complaining. We wouldn't be able to do something like this, without her help."

"At the very least, it would be harder," Poppy said. "The Aras were struggling to grow their own replacement organs. The new equipment is helping."

1109 groaned, shutting her eyes. "...I...can't pay you...sorry..."

"No need," Poppy said. "Helping you is its own reward."

"Uh, no," Beatrice said, frowning. "Much as I'd like to help every replika that comes to our door, we CAN'T just be a charity. All this costs time, labor, and resources."

"I know," Poppy said, waving an arm, "but we can't just leave her like this."

"I'm not saying we do," the Storch said, as they turned a corner. "Just that we can't afford to charge nothing." She looked down at the replika in her arms. "When you get better, you're paying this off with your body, alright?"

LSTR-R1109 nodded, head feeling heavy. "...I can...do that..."

She smiled weakly. Thinking of productive work ahead felt good. She could finally be useful to someone else again.

 

"Be honored, agents of the Arkifane. You have been afforded a great honor."

Elster tilted her head. "Have we?"

"Very much so," said Tankred Kurl, a single eyebrow raised. "The assembled masters of the warrior lodge have afforded you audience with our master." He narrowed his eye. "You will give him the utmost respect and deference, worms. For your sake. Do not waste his valuable time. He has a battle to plan."

The replika commander gulped. "...I will keep that in mind, Captain. Thank you."

"Just do not embarrass me," Kurl said. "You will be contacted shortly. Kurl, out."

Once again, Elster had just enough time to bow, before the feed cut out.

She sighed, removing her hat. Elster rubbed her head. "Didn't even get a chance to ask who it is we'll be talking to," she said, frowning.

"I suppose whoever it is, we should treat as the Very Important Person he is," Adler said, shrugging.

"Lucky us," Dash said, as she leaned against the back wall.

"Do we have any idea who we think it might be?" Elster asked.

Diodana stared past the viewing screen, looking out the front windows to the panoply of void ships moored in orbit around a barren moon. The orange tabby lounged on the beige top of her console, tail wagging. "It's not unlikely some senior officer within the Iron Warriors Legion," she said, metal fingers lazily stroking the cat. "What do they call them? Warsmiths?"

"Captain Kurl isn't even in charge of the biggest class of ship in this fleet," Daisy said, stroking her chin. "Stands to reason the class above Cruiser would have their 'Warsmiths'."

Circe leaned on the edge of Tulip's pilot console, chewing her thumb. "Then who rides around in that giant one?" She pointed.

Even at their distance from the huge cluster of ships, there was no mistaking it. The largest, most armored, and most central void craft hung in orbit. Dozens of major ships, and hundreds of minor ones, coordinated around it.

"A Gloriana class Battleship...?" Diodana tapped her respirator, thoughtfully. Her photo-receptors bounced between the cat she petted, and the distant vessel. "...word of us wouldn't reach all the way up to him, would it?" she muttered. "It couldn't be."

"Who?" Elster asked.

Vanessa, manning the radio, piped up. "Another ship is hailing us," she said, hand clutching her headphones. "They demand a video call."

Elster sighed. "Places, people!" she yelled, clapping. "Chop chop! We can't keep these people waiting!"

Bridge crew jumped into action. Keyboards tapped furiously, switches flipped. Diodana took her seat. The tabby jumped down and curled in her lap, yawning.

Dash and Adler took their places at either side of their commander.

"...Circe," Elster said, clasping hands behind her back. "Do you want to stand here with us?"

The Kolibri pressed fingers to her lips pensively, then shook her head. "I'm too short," she said. "It wouldn't leave an impression of strength." She crossed her arms and stood off to the side, out of camera frame.

"...I mean, Dash makes most of us look pretty short," Elster muttered, shrugging.

"I could get down on my knees, if it would help," Dash whispered, smiling.

"No time," Elster said, inclining her head to the screen.

Vanessa looked over her shoulder. On receiving a signal, she turned back to her mic. "We're ready, Iron Blood," said the Eule.

Diodana initiated the feed, as required, but nonetheless balked. "...no..." she muttered, looking at the radio. "...it cannot be..."

The screen flashed the symbol of the Iron Warriors Legion, the steel skull, framed by lightning bolts. Elster and her cohorts stood at attention.

It resolved itself into a live feed. No longer of the bridge of the Serpens Ferreus, but to a large chamber. It was no less utilitarian, yet had more the touch of a workshop than a command center. The back wall covered in tools, spare parts heaped on the floor. High on the wall, seemingly accorded the honor befitting a trophy, was a large, ornate, two-handed warhammer.

The center of frame was dominated by an Iron Warriors space marine, in the modestly ornamented (by Iron Warriors standards) livery of an officer. He kept his helmet on. Somewhere behind him, the outline of a large figure could be seen.

The marine nodded. "Attention, Nomarch," he said, deep voice filtered through a mechanical grill, "you are about to speak with the master of the Iron Warriors..." He stepped to one side of the frame, and gestured with his whole arm. "Behold..."

Elster's eyes widened. Holy fucking shit...

"What the hell?" Dash whispered, gripping her shotgun nervously.

Adler gulped.

At first, the figure seated at the back of the room seemed like a normal space marine. Albeit ensconced in a brutally utilitarian suit of tactical dreadnaught armor. Sat sideways to the camera, leaned over a broad table upon which both stacks of dataslate tablets and mounds of machinery in various states of assembly were placed. From his bald head sprouted many metal cables, that swept back and disappeared into the broad cavity his head occupied in the suit.

It was only once the eye drifted around, to the menials and lesser space marines occupying the room with him, that the scale of the figure became apparent. Space marines were already taller and broader than any baseline gestalt.

This man, if "man" could even adequately describe him, was enormous. Even accounting for the bulky terminator armor, festooned with heavy guns at every spare inch, he was a giant among giants. His sheer bulk, let alone his presence, dominated the room.

Elster was familiar, in concept at least, with the leaders of the space marine Legions. Their names spoken of in either reverence or revulsion, always with import.

Never had those Elster spoke to deigned to mention they were so fucking big.

"...the Primarch Perturabo."

Elster blinked, staring. She felt astoundingly out of her depth.

The Primarch didn't turn his head. Did not look at the screen. With a resting scowl, he simply stared down at his dataslate, tapping it periodically.

After a space of ten seconds, he said, "...well?"

"Eh!" Elster said, flinching.

"Speak," Perturabo said, still not turning to face the screen. "I don't have all day."

"Y-yes!" Elster said, standing at attention. She bowed at the waist. "I am Elster, commander of the Nomarch and leader of our company. It is an honor, your...lordship...?"

"Spare me the pleasantries," the Primarch rumbled, his voice deep and thick with impatience. "What do you want?"

Elster's mouth screwed up. A bead of sweat rolled down her brow. "R-right!" She coughed. "My company and I, who are no friends of the Imperium and sympathetic to the cause of the Warmaster, seek safe passage through territory the Lord Primarch controls."

"Hrm," Perturabo grunted, nodding. He picked up a second dataslate at his side, and swiped through it. "Where are you headed?"

"Uh..." Elster glanced nervously at Circe. Well...where are we going? she thought.

Circe frowned. Looked at the screen. Looked at the ground.

"Well?" Perturabo said, raising his head fractionally.

The Kolibri, hugging herself, nodded. ...fine. Do it. And may the Grand Empress help us.

Elster nodded. "...we seek to move through the Phall system, my lord. It is the quickest route through the Warp storms before us."

"Hmph," Perturabo grunted, tapping the edge of the dataslate thoughtfully. "Through Phall? Hrm...where is your ultimate destination?"

The replika commander frowned. It wasn't terribly necessary to be fully specific, was it? "...we seek the Segmentum Pacificus. The region bordering the two Segmenta, actually, not too distant from the Rangda region."

The Primarch exhaled from his nose, mulling over this information. It seemed to satisfy him. He nodded. "Very well," he said. "You will coordinate with Captain Kurl, and translate into Phall along with the Serpens Ferreus, once we commence our operation. You will be allowed to make your own way from there."

Elster bowed, this time with just her head. The Primarch wasn't looking anyway. "Gracious thanks, Lord Perturabo."

"We will be engaged with our hated enemies," Perturabo added, sneering. "It will be an open battle. Understand that your are permitted to tag along, only because it does not inconvenience us. If you are endangered, you will not be helped." For the first time, he turned his head fractionally, to regard the screen. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir," Elster said, bowing at the waist now. She put on a nervous smile.

The Primarch observed the replika. Turned his head fully to face her. Studied her. Furrowed his brow.

Elster felt his eyes pour over her. See through her. A bead of sweat broke out on her brow again. "...sir?"

Dash and Adler squirmed, as the Primarch's eyes probed them as well.

Perturabo's lower jaw shifted, pensively. "...your full body prosthetics..." he said, neutrally. "...for all they're so primitive, they are...elegant."

"...uh...thank you?" Elster said, frowning.

"What is the nature of your augmetics? What purpose do they serve?" Perturabo said, bluntly. "Transhumanism? Limiting food expenditure? Life-saving? Combat?"

Elster's eyebrows rose. "Oh. Uh, no," she said. "We are Replikas, sir. Cloned humans, originally employed as labor. We are...always like this."

"Hmph," Perturabo grunted, in a higher register that might indicate curiosity. Or perhaps being impressed? "I see. Hm..." He turned away, then scrolled the dataslate. "Is that ship from the same civilization, replika?"

"More or less, sir, yes," Elster said.

"Your cyborg technology outpaced your ship-building," Perturabo said. He sighed. "Well, in any event, you are no threat to my operations. Either militarily, or as a spy." He nodded. His eyes, back on the dataslate, focused on one spot. He tapped it, reading. "...I am informed you serve someone called 'Vashtorr the Arkifane'." He turned his head fractionally to the screen. "Explain."

Elster clasped her hands behind her back. "Vashtorr is..."

Tulip caught her eye. The Ara pilot looked over her shoulder, frowning.

The replika commander sighed. "...he is a Warp entity," Elster said. "A lesser power within the hierarchy of our..." She chose her words carefully. "...mutual patrons, sir."

"Harumph," Perturabo grunted, scowling harder. "...patrons...these 'Dark Gods' of which the warrior lodges preach?"

Elster frowned. "...y-yes, sir...just so..." She eyed Tulip, who looked away quickly, hiding her expression.

To her side, Adler also averted his gaze, uncomfortable.

"Tell me," Perturabo said, looking into Elster's eyes, "what do you think of 'Chaos'?"

Elster froze. The intensity with which the Primarch stared disconcerted her.

How she responded could change their fortunes greatly, she was sure. But how to do so? What answer did the Primarch expect? What would please him? If she was caught lying, would it be more disastrous for the Nomarch than if she simply gave a truthful answer he disliked? What...motivates a being custom built to command transhuman armies?

Elster shivered. She breathed. Inhaled. Exhaled.

The logic. She knew little about the 4th Legion's Primarch. She had to infer based on his displayed character traits...and that of his Legion.

A wheel turned in her head. Tankred Kurl responded with open disdain when he concluded Elster's company were "cultists". Certainly, playing up the allegiance to Chaos had scored them an audience with their leader. But to so plainly show contempt for such practices, even in front of his own Chaplain, meant Kurl hadn't considered it dangerous. It implied such attitudes were normalized, or at least not uncommon, within the Legion's ranks.

If Perturabo, Primarch of the Iron Warriors, was a frothing Chaos adherent...would he tolerate such...lack of faith?

Elster felt those eyes on her. Perturabo awaited an answer. She had to take a gamble.

"...truthfully, my lord..." Elster said, standing up straight, "...I hate Chaos."

The Primarch raised his eyebrows. "...do you, now?"

Elster nodded, feeling at once in doubt as to whether it was correct. But she couldn't speak such bold words, and then back down. She was committed. "Yes. I despise Chaos. I despise the Ruinous Powers. I despise Vashtorr, who holds me in bondage."

Tulip looked over her shoulder. Her expression was one of horror.

Yes, Tulip, Elster thought, meeting the Ara's eyes. There was no telepathy here. But it wasn't necessary. The meaning was clear. I am a sellsoul, or functionally identical to it. My "employer" and I have that kind of deal.

The Primarch eyed the replika impassively. Allowed the moment to stretch on, for a few seconds.

"Hmph," Perturabo grunted, frowning. "As you should." He nodded. "Continue."

Elster sighed, tension flowing out of her chest. She looked over to Circe.

The Kolibri smiled, giving her a thumbs up. Good job. she thought.

The replika commander nodded. She looked back to the screen. "I serve Vashtorr because he has what I want. I do his bidding out of obligation. Nothing more. It is out of that obligation that I transport my people to the ends of the galaxy."

Perturabo nodded. "Hmph...yes...the noose of 'obligation'." He turned away. "I know it well." He sneered, staring into space. "Whether it's Emperors or so-called 'Gods'. Always..." He grumbled incoherently, swallowing his words. "...gods." He scowled, the word plainly ash in his mouth. "Bah! Psychic parasites. Nothing more." His eyes glanced sideways to the screen. "Take my advice: fulfill your obligations, quick as you can. Then, grant these...entities no more quarter." He snorted, the sides of his mouth turning up grimly. "The human race is better off without something as...atavistic as 'gods'."

Elster bowed her head. "This was the plan, yes," she said. "Your wisdom is great, Lord Primarch."

"Yes, it is," Perturabo said, nodding. He turned his attention back to his original dataslate. "Very well. Gratifying as this digression has been, I have work to do. You are dismissed." He waved his hand lazily.

Elster didn't even get a chance to bow or voice thanks, before the feed unceremoniously cut out.

 

"...as arranged, you will translate in alongside us. The Serpens is slated to be among the attack's final wave. So the fighting will doubtless already be underway as we arrive."

Elster nodded. "Understood," she said, sitting in her captain's chair.

"As our Father kindly stated," Kurl said, narrowing his eye, "you will be on your own once we translate it. If you come under fire, expect no assistance. Least of all from me." He tapped the buttons on his armrest. "And it goes without saying, but do not try anything. You will achieve nothing but an elaborate suicide."

"I understand," Elster said, nodding again. "I thank the Iron Warriors for being as accommodating as they have, on this the eve of battle."

Circe leaned on her armrest, looking away. She frowned. ...Elster...can we ask...?

Yes, I'll ask him, Elster thought, nodding. "Captain Kurl, may I inquire about something?"

Tankred Kurl grumbled. "...hrmm...you may ask."

"My psychics have been troubled by visions and portents about the Phall system," Elster asked. "Of, quote, 'witches tortured and screaming'. Do you know anything about this?"

"Oh?" Kurl said. He chuckled, the sound distorted through his mask. "Worry not about that. We acquired and employed all the psykers our purposes required. What you describe is already done. It happened weeks ago." His mouth was hidden, but by the way he chuckled, it was clear he was smiling maliciously beneath his mask. "The Fists have already experienced it firsthand by now."

Circe blanched. She chanced a sideways glance at the screen.

"Heh heh," Kurl chuckled, looking at the Kolibri. He said nothing further. Seeming content to torment the little one.

Circe shivered, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Elster gulped, keeping her expression neutral. "...th-that...is good to know. Thank you, Captain."

"If that is all," Kurl said.

"It is, thank you," Elster said, nodding. "Our radio operators will be in touch."

"Good day, Nomarch," Kurl said. He inclined his head back. "And enjoy the war."

When the feed cut out, Circe hugged herself, trying to avoid throwing up. "Mmnn!"

"Come here, baby," Elster said, opening her arms wide. The Kolibri practically fell into her lap. She hugged Circe, stroking her hair. "It's going to be alright."

"Oh Empress..." Circe breathed, burying her face in Elster's chest. "All those people...they put them through such agony..." She shuddered. "...just...as a weapon?"

"I know, I know," Elster said, rubbing her shoulders. "There's nothing more we can do for them."

Circe said nothing. Simply curled into a ball and shut her eyes. Fingers clung to Elster's jacket.

Elster stroked Circe's head, threading fingers through the messy black hair. "...if it makes you feel any better," Elster whispered, "they'll get there's, I think. Kurl and his lot, at least."

"How? Why?" Circe said, not opening her eyes.

Elster looked forward. Her eyes gazing out, beyond the screen. Through the forward windows. She watched the voidships hang in orbit around the barren moon below. Including one ship in particular.

"...because the target Vashtorr wants us hitting? It's the Serpens Ferreus. After it's been cracked open like an egg."

Chapter 37: The Battle of Phall

Notes:

The Battle of Phall

Quick Void Combat Key:
Ship Directions: Starboard (Right), Port (Left), Bow (Front), Stern (Rear)

Lances: Big Spaceship Lasers
Macrocannons: Big Spaceship Cannons

"WHY THE FUCK DID WE TRANSLATE INTO THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE!?"

Proximity alarms blared and emergency lights flashed. Exterior viewscreens were a riot of colors, as all manner of void weaponry slammed into Iron Warriors void shields. And then, occasionally, against those of the Nomarch.

"Aaaah!" Vanessa screamed, throwing her hands over her head. She looked fearfully at the screens, trembling. She pulled her headphones off, rubbing her ears. "T-too much chatter!"

Elster gritted her teeth. Leaning against her console, she snatched up her microphone and angrily thumbed the switch. "Achtung! Achtung!" she yelled, "Battle stations! Brace yourselves! This is not a drill!"

"Who the fuck gave us these coordinates?" Dash cried looking between screens. "Aren't we supposed to appear at the edge of the system?"

"Normally, we would," Diodana said over her shoulder, before furiously typing on the keys. "The Serpens Ferreus supplied our translation coordinates."

Vanessa looked down at the radio, and smiled sheepishly. "Oh...right...heh heh..." A scarlet las bolt of incredible size sailed over the nose of the Nomarch, scraping their void shields. The Eule squeaked, ducking. "Ah!"

The replika commander scowled. "Tankred Kurl, Du Hurensohn!" Elster yelled, slamming a fist down on the top of her console. She pointed to Tulip. "Evasive maneuvers!"

"R-right!" Tulip said, flipping switches. She looked around. "W-where, though?"

A good question. The Nomarch, flying at the edge of an Iron Warriors ship column, was positioned such that they could see dozens of hostile voidcraft in every direction.

"Shit!" Dash cried, slapping her face. "We're encircled!"

"Void shields at 85 percent," Diodana called. A blast of crimson energy struck the side, fizzling against a wall of force. "Oh dear...make that 65 percent!"

Götterdämmerung! Elster thought, looking at the screens. Everywhere, there were ships painted bright yellow. As they hove into range to deliver rapid broadsides against Iron Warriors craft, Elster could see black fist symbols painted over a field of white. Each hostile craft, greater or lesser, launched volleys first and foremost against the lighter escorts.

They're prioritizing the weaker targets, so the big cruisers and battle barges will be easier to gang up on, she thought. Her heart leaped. That includes us!

"Fuck this!" Dash yelled, running towards a weapons console. "I'm returning fire!"

Elster held out a hand. "No!" she yelled. "Don't go firing!"

"Why not?" Dash called, hand on top of a screen showing the view from the gun and lascannon emplacements.

"LSTR-512 is correct," Diodana said, flipping switches. "Our weapons stand no chance of piercing their void shields, let alone damage their hulls substantially. It would waste valuable reactor output, needed to maintain our own defenses."

"Moreover," Elster grunted, leaning on the console, "if we start firing, the Imperials will know for a fact we're allies of the Iron Warriors."

"I'm pretty sure they already think that!" Dash said, taking a seat. Her hands gripped control sticks. "We can't sit and do nothing!"

Elster huffed, then frowned. "Fine. Everyone man the guns." She barred her teeth. "But don't fire! Not unless it's to...I don't know, blow up a missile or something! We can't spare the power!"

"Fine!" Dash said, flipping switches. She trained her eyes on the space in her firing arc. "We can't keep doing this forever, though!"

Other bridge crew, either already present or filing in from outside, took places at the guns. Nervously waiting either for threats to intercept, or orders to fire at will.

"Where do I go!?" Tulip shouted over her shoulder. "Elster!"

"..." Elster looked at the screens. "...uh...I don't..."

She weaved fingers through her hair anxiously. The replika commander was painfully out of her depth. She cursed the Nation for never providing even rudimentary training in void warfare. Then she cursed herself, for even thinking the Nation's idea of void warfare would even apply.

What had she been thinking, agreeing to knowingly enter a system where an active void engagement would be underway? They had no business being there. They-

"ELSTER!" Tulip scream, as a explosion pillowed over their void shields, blinding half the screens with scarlet.

"45 percent void shield integrity!" Diodana called.

Elster inhaled. Exhaled. No time to panic. Focus, she thought, looking down at the radar screen on her console. Then up to the screens, as the visual noise dissipated. She pressed her knuckles against her forehead. Think. Think. This is just a firefight. You're flanked. What do you do?

Assess parameters. A column of dubiously friendly (well, non-hostile) craft, surrounded by confirmed hostiles. "Friendlies" were big, tough, but slow. Hostiles fast, maneuverable, and well armed. Onboard weapons were useless and counterproductive, and the reactors couldn't sustain repeated direct hits. The Nomarch wasn't terribly fast, but could maneuver better than the big craft at least. They didn't need to fight the Imperials, just survive. They could just gun it. Whereas their "allies" slowed to hove in to fight, or just to stay in formation. And the best pilot only had experience navigating...

Asteroids.

Elster blinked. A gear turned in her head.

That could work, she thought. Fuck, it'll have to. There's no better option.

"Tulip!" Elster yelled, pointing forward and up. "Fly us in between the Iron Warriors ships! Get us into cover!"

The Ara's eyes lit up. "R-right!" she cried, looked forward. She pulled the control stick back, and with a crank of a lever gunned the engines.

Everyone staggered as the ship pitched back ten degrees, and acceleration pulled them towards the rear. The artificial gravity, sustained by wondrous Bioresonant technology, quickly compensated.

"Shit!" Dash yelled, the movement throwing her aim off balance. "Watch it, Tue!"

"Just get us out of the line of fire, sweetie," Elster called, exhaling. "If you can get us into the shadow of friendly void shields, that would be great."

"Okay!" Tulip said, her trembling hands clutching the stick for dear life.

An Iron Warriors escort craft, under fire from Imperial Fist macrocannon batteries, cast a shadow over the starboard cameras. Its void shields rippled, straining under the punishing force. Enormous, edifice-sized ballistic ammunition ricochet off, tumbling into the void.

In the same pass, their "cover" answered the barrage in kind. Its starboard lances lit up the opposing vessel's surface with scarlet, lasers scouring its void shields.

Ahead, above, and to the right, was the Serpens Ferreus, around which were a half dozen escort craft. If they could only get behind it...

"Shit!" Tulip cried, pitching the ship on an even steeper ascent, relative to the movement of the column, as another escort flying below moved up to provide cover for the Strike Cruiser on its port side. "Hang on!"

Bridge crew clung to their consoles, riding out the shift in inertia until internal gravity righted itself.

Vanessa, wearing her headset again, winced. She adjusted volume. "Sorry, sorry!" she said into the microphone. "We apologize for the sudden movement, sir! But our shields aren't equipped to handle this firepower!"

She winced again, physically pulling the headphone cups away from her ears. "...again, there's nothing we can do, sir! We're not..."

Tulip angled their ship straighter, and to port, sailing perilously close to the roof of the escort in front of them. She dove toward space between sets of escorts that clung to their respective larger craft.

Elster grimaced. "Hold on, Van!" She turned on her internal radio, tuning it until she heard the voice of the angry officer berating his child. Elster thumbed on her microphone. "Do you have a problem, sir?"

"What?" growled the man on the other end. "My problem is you're out of formation! You could have-"

"We're not part of your chain of command, sir!" Elster yelled. "We're not even supposed to be in this battle!"

The man on the other end swore invectives unknown to Elster's language modules. "These karking tag-alongs..." he muttered. "...just because you had an audience with the Primarch, you think..."

"I don't give a shit about that, dummkopf!" Elster barked. "I have a responsibility to protect my crew! Neither of us would be in this mess if we translated at the edge of the system like sane fucking people!"

"Rraagh! I don't have time for this!" the man growled. "Get off this karking channel and stop getting in the way!" The message ceased.

Elster, panting, snapped her internal radio off and put down the mic. "Tulip, sweetie," she said, "we're going to need to be very aware of our surroundings. I don't know how long these maniacs with tolerate us until they decide it's easier to just blow the Nomarch to pieces."

Tulip gulp, then nodded. "O-okay..." she whimpered, clutching the controls even harder. Slowly, inexorably, she squeezed the Nomarch through a gap in the column.

"Diodana, what's our void shield situation look like?" Elster said, fanning herself with her ornate captain's hat.

"Shields up to 50 percent integrity," the tech priest said.

Elster chewed her thumb. Their void shield generators - let alone the reactor - weren't up to the task of sustaining defenses for long. They were stripped to less than half integrity within minutes of translation.

Off to port, one of the Serpens's escorts turned and threw itself into an engagement with several Fists attack craft. The black void lit up with dozens of lance beams. The Iron Warriors craft felled a handful of craft with a single broadside barrage. In return, its void shields were stripped away like paper. The last Fists craft in the flyby gouged a deep wound into its port side.

"Oh no!" cried an Ara manning a portside weapons console. "Our neighbor isn't doing so well..."

Elster hissed through clenched teeth, watching the escort bleed smoke into the void in a long tail from its flank. Then, her eyes went wide, as a second Fists attack run approached from port. This time with a cruiser. "Not again..."

A rear door slid open. Isis ran inside, panting. A bath robe hastily secured around her waist. "Elster!" she cried, staggering. Her eyes went wide. "Are they coming for us?"

"Not us specifically," Elster grunted. "Strap yourself down."

The Kolibri nodded, taking a seat at the back of the room and putting on the seatbelt.

Circe, who now had visual through her child's eyes, spoke to Elster. The Strike Cruiser is losing patience. They're going to...

As the Nomarch slid into the shadow of the Serpens, Vanessa's eyes went wide. "Tulip!" she cried, turning to her side. "Move! The Serpens is going to broadside!"

"I see it!" Tulip was already pitching the Nomarch forward, sending the crew lurching before gravity righted. Responding more to the sudden movement of the Serpens's nearby escorts.

"Hurry!" Vanessa cried, looking fearfully at the lance batteries on the Iron Warriors cruiser.

Breathing rapidly, Tulip side-eyed the Serpens, then the rapidly approaching Fist crafts. "H-hold on!"

She flicked a switch, then slammed the control stick hard to the left.

Elster only had time to grip her console, before she and everyone else pulled violently port. The ship listing rapidly, until it rotated a full 90 degrees on its centerline axis. The replika commander nearly fell off her hooves. "Ah!"

The whole room roared with surprised screams. Crew at the port consoles fell into them, one accidentally discharging a lascannon shot into the empty void. Crew on the starboard side, thankfully, merely fell back hard into seats bolted to the floor. Hands clutching beige console plastic or control sticks.

"Shit, fuck, shit!" Dash grunted, hooves scraping the metal flooring as she tried to pitch herself forward in her seat. Hands gripping a monitor for dear life.

Diodana, more used to void engagements and sudden reorienting of gravity, sighed. She had buckled herself in when the battle was joined, and used her mechadendrites to stabilize herself. "Oh!" she said, reaching out with a hand to catch her orange tabby as the cat, in panic, slid across the monitor before her. His claws scraping the beige plastic.

"Mrrow!" the cat cried, claws clinging to her metal forearm, digging into the scarlet sleeve.

"Fuck!" Vanessa yelled, falling out of her seat. She rolled on the floor, still gripping the microphone in her hand, until artificial gravity finally began to reassert itself. "Ow..."

"Tulip!" Isis screamed, gripped her seat and wincing as the belt dug into her sides. "What are you-" Her eyes widened.

Circe broadcast to as many people as she could. THEY'RE FIRING!

Elster, righting herself, clutched her console harder. "Hang o-"

Every screen on the starboard side lit up, casting the entire room in a blinding crimson light.

Diodana's screen flashed, defensive integrity plummeting as a lance shot from the Serpens scraped the edge of the Nomarch's void shields.

The room was filled with panicked screams and flailing bodies.

After the light dissipated, Vanessa was the first to notice. Prone on the floor, flat on her back, she blinked, staring up. Her eyes widened. "Look!" she cried, scrambling wearily to sitting position. She pointed to the ceiling.

Elster looked up as well, staring through the viewscreen for the roof cameras. "...oh fuck..." she whispered. Her hand felt her head, only belatedly noticing her hat fell off somewhere along the way. "Those maniacs..."

The bridge crew turned and looked up. None could fathom it.

Previously positioned to their port side, the Iron Warriors escort craft that so recently had its void shield compromised was in the process of breaking apart in a shower of explosions, smoke, and debris. A gaping hole of blackened metal and sparking, through which the void beyond could be seen. The void, and a Fists attack ship that sailed wildly off into the void "portside" the Nomarch (down?).

"What the...?" Dash gawked. "Th-they shot through their own ship!?"

Isis whimpered, clutching her head. "All those people..."

Circe chimed in. ...they're screaming!

Shahrazad thought, more quietly, And just as quickly, silenced.

Tulip, aghast, suddenly returned her vision forward. She scrambled, flipping switches. The Ara tilted the control stick, moving them on a leftward (downward) path. More gradually now, but just as urgently. "G-get out of the way, get out of the way," she muttered quickly to herself.

"Alas," Diodana said, photo-receptors trained on the ceiling, "collateral damage is not an unheard of phenomenon, for the 4th Legion. They consider their assets, including their own baseline troops, Astartes, and even ships, expendable." She looked down, raising her left arm. She tried to gingerly pull on the orange furball clinging to her. "Now now, that's enough of that," she whispered.

Vanessa scrambled to her hooves, rubbing her sides. She walked over to Diodana and began helping disentangle the feline. "Come on," she cooed, "it's okay."

As the Nomarch continued its path, the starboard screens flashed scarlet again, as the Serpens loosed another lance shot. This time well outside the range of the tiny craft's void shields.

Elster retrieved her hat and returned to her position. Brushing it off and putting it on, she scowled. "Wahnsinnige," she muttered, heart racing. "Lunatics, all of them."

If there was one Vinetan War memory that bubbled up from deep within that elicited more rage than panic, it was the remembrance of times of mismanaged artillery. When crew, spotters, or commanders misjudged their targeting (or simply didn't care), and ended up shelling their own trenches. Elster experienced a vivid memory of herself - or rather her gestalt - watching from a distance as a trench position she'd occupied only moments before exploded from mortars that could only have come from her own side.

It arose spontaneously, this memory. She'd never remembered it before, of that she was certain. The replika commander would recall feeling such sickening rage. She gritted her teeth, and clenched her fist.

They're all the same, she thought, glaring as the Nomarch slowly tilted back "upright", and the Serpens Ferreus rose into view on the starboard screens. Venting more scarlet lance shots that sailed over their heads, bathing them in red. Every single one of these bastards is the fucking same. Mischlingssöhne von Hunden!

Circe chimed in. Elster, we need a new plan.

Elster sighed. I agree, she thought. We can't keep this up forever. She looked down at the radar on her console. Watched the many blips in formation, as they disappeared one by one. The Iron Warriors can't either, I don't think. The Fists are taking the column apart, piece by piece.

She started walking around the bridge, watching her frazzled crew.

What are the Iron Warriors hoping to achieve? Isis thought, crossing her arms. They're just...flying forward.

It's a wedge formation, I think, Elster thought, looking out into the far distance. The stars ahead danced with the interplay of lance shots and explosions. Perturabo probably thought he'd take his entire fleet and smash into the Imperial Fists, head on. She frowned. No matter how many of his ships or their people died in the attempt.

Acceptable losses, Shahrazad thought, grimly. Perturabo would make Pyrhus proud.

Elster nodded, then patted Tulip on the back as she passed. "Good maneuvering," she said, smiling warmly. "Keep it up."

Tulip nodded, eyes darting in different directions. Hypervigilent of their surroundings.

Walking on, Elster patted Vanessa on the shoulder. She waited until the Eule removed her headphones. "What's the chatter like?"

Vanessa stroked the tabby, which shivered in her lap. She looked up. "More of the same," she said, frowning. "Shouting, talking about attack runs...I'm not hearing any attempts to communicate between sides. I know it's a battle, but...you'd think they'd be talking more..."

"Yeah," said Dash, looking over her shoulder. She kept her eyes focused on the screen in front of her, scanning for any missiles or small craft headed their way. "If nothing else, you'd think there'd be trashtalk."

"..." Elster huffed, adjusting her hat pensively. "...maybe there's just nothing left to say. Their weapons are enough."

"Oh, I'm certain their weapons speak volumes," Diodana said, tapping on the keyboard. "It is the most basic of all tongues, which all creatures understand. The language of violence." Her photo-receptors rose, glinting red with distant (or near) lance bolts. "The Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists have long held grudges, if the rumors are true."

"Why's that?" Dash said.

"Who can say?" Diodana shrugged. "Void shield integrity at 65 percent."

"Do you think we can talk to the Fists?" Vanessa asked, pressing the animal to her stomach. "Radio them, and tell them we're not..."

"...not with the Iron Warriors?" Dash said, looking over her shoulder. "The ones we're hanging with, arrived with, and haven't been firing on? Doubt it."

"Surely we can explain," Vanessa said, frowning.

Elster shook her head. "I don't think they'll listen," she said.

"It is said Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists, is a stubborn man," Diodana said, flipping switches. "If his sons are alike to him, which Astartes often are to their Primarchs, they have already made up their minds. Anyone who flies in this formation is a traitor, and must be destroyed with extreme prejudice."

That's the impression we're getting, too, Circe thought. We can feel the hate radiating from both sides. They aren't disguising it. Hate, bitterness, outrage. Ironclad resolve.

Vanessa's shoulders sank. "Oh..." she said, placing the headphones back on.

Elster made her way back to her console, looking at the radar again. She glanced to either side. Cravenly hiding amid larger ships, exploiting their void shields, was paying off at the moment. But the replika commander could see the Iron Warriors column, at least in their section, was thinning.

She studied a screen showing the rear view. Watched as the escort craft that badgered them earlier on the radio had first its void shields, then its hull torn from it. Sides belching fire and smoke. Before, suddenly, whatever internal system like a reactor burst, cracking the craft in half.

Isis cringed, clutching her head. "...so much...so much death..." she whimpered, shutting her eyes.

Elster clenched her teeth. "...we need to get out of here."

"How, though?" Diodana said, looking over her shoulder. "Even at maximum void shield integrity, we would be torn apart in minutes if we left the (relative) safety of the Iron Warriors formation."

"It's not like there's any cover," Dash said. "No where to sneak to. The nearest planet in the system is..."

"...days flight away," Tulip called, studying her screens.

"Can we use the Cloak device?" Elster said, but frowned. She already knew the answer.

"Negative," Diodana said. "We are too near Imperium vessels. Not merely within range of their advanced instruments, but within range of the naked eye. The Device will not cloak us."

"If there's enough interference?" Elster said, pointing at the radar. "We're a tiny ship, by the standards of this battle. If there's enough going on, could the Device allow us to at least blend in?"

"An interesting hypothesis," Diodana said, looking back, "but entirely unknown. We've only tested the Device's capabilities on Imperium technology in a rudimentary fashion. I, for one, would rather not test the effects of overwhelming volume of data under such perilous conditions."

"Plus..." Tulip said, lifting a finger, "...if we were to take advantage of having so many targets...we probably should have tried earlier, when there were more Iron Warriors around."

Elster groaned, crossing her arms. "Point taken."

I mean, I'm all for being sneaky beaky like...

The replika commander frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Mik'hul...

The daemon's distant voice spoke again. ...but seriously, boss. I think you should give it a try.

You would, Elster thought.

No, boss, I'm not playing around, he thought. And I'm not just saying it because it's in my nature. Look at who's coming in at ten o'clock.

Bewildered, Elster looked at the screens on the front port side. Her eyes widened. "Scheisse."

Aras manning the port side weapons consoles craned their necks, looking out.

"What's that?" one of them muttered.

"I don't know. It's really big!"

Tulip looked over and frowned. "...Elster..."

"I see it," Elster said, looking over. She glanced down at the radar, then back up. No mistake.

Far up the attack column, approaching at speed, was an Imperial Fists Battle Barge. A monster of a craft that dwarfed the Strike Cruisers, let alone all lesser vessels.

It wasn't that the Iron Warriors column lacked such craft itself. One of them, far ahead of them, slowly turned in a wide arc, making to intercept. Many craft did so, drawing in to engage the rival behemoth.

What perplexed was that the Fists barge wheeled around far short of all but the longest range weaponry. It betrayed no intention of getting near to the column, despite how slow and wide it had to turn for its enormous girth.

Moreover, other Fists vessels in the vicinity, even those engaged in prolonged skirmishes, broke off and retreated as the battle barge approached. Even exposing themselves to cheap shots during disengagement.

"What are they...?" Elster muttered.

I don't know, boss... Mik'hul thought, sarcastically. ...but, not to spoil anything...it's probably something we don't want to be around when it happens.

Elster blinked. "..."

She leaned forward, pointing to starboard. "Tulip! Get us out of here! Hard to starboard! As fast as you can!"

Tulip looked fearfully over her shoulder, frowning. "B-but..." Nonetheless, she did as she was told, pulling the control stick right to swing them around. She pressed buttons and flipped switches. "...won't we...?"

"But what about enemy fire?" Dash said, looking over her shoulder. She pointed. "A bunch more Fists are flying in from that way!"

Elster looked starboard, and saw even the Serpens Ferreus pivoting to the right, as another cruiser and several more escorts came in from starboard and behind. The Iron Warriors strike cruiser hove in, intent on meeting the threat. "...scheisse..."

"Commander, what is the source of this urgency?" Diodana said, eyeing between the flanking Fists and the battle barge coming from the opposite direction. "We cannot afford to expose our void shields to..."

"Look there!"

Everyone looked port, the arcing Nomarch swinging until the head of the Iron Warriors column slid to their left.

From the Fists battle barge shot a bright point of light, that rapidly flew across the gap. Despite attempts by lance beams and macrocannon rounds, the object - a missile - drove deep into the heart of the Iron Warriors column far ahead.

"What is that?" Vanessa said, covering her mouth.

Isis clutched her head, looked at the floor. "...oh god...oh empress...it's...it's coming..."

"What's coming, baby?" Elster said, not taking her eyes away from the tiny pinprick of light penetrating deep among the ships.

"A torpedo?" Diodana said, standing up to get a better look.

Isis curled into a ball, shutting her eyes.

"Death!"

A flash.

So bright, everyone had to turn away. So bright all instruments flared, and screens glitched out. For a brief moment, exterior cameras failed, unable to process the brightness of the flash.

Then, just as the flash dissipated, screens came back online, and the crew began to look again, the ship rattled. A shockwave of cosmic dust, hurtling through the airless void, slammed into the Nomarch, vibrating through the hull.

Elster looked down at her hooves, then back to the port side. Her eyes widened. "..."

Götterdämmerung.

Isis screamed. Elsewhere, amidships, Circe and Shahrazad screamed too.

Cascading out from the center, where once were distant ships set against a backdrop of black and stars, erupted a swirling mass of magenta and purple. Great arms of roiling energy, foreign and antithetical to material reality, spiraled out from the center in greater and greater arcs. Whipping into ships at the speed of thought. Where base matter was crossed by this whirling color, nothing remained after. All was sucked, at once, into its insatiable maw.

"...no..." Diodana breathed, recoiling in horror. "...by the Omnissiah..." She cried, "A Vortex Torpedo!?"

The Fists battle barge that loosed it made full burn directly away from the abomination it birthed. That fell relic of the Technological Dark Age that rapidly unmade every vessel or hunk of debris in its path. The vortex filled the sky, bathing everything and everyone in unwholesome colors out of space.

"W-what the hell is a Vortex Torpedo!?" Elster cried, looking between it, Diodana, and the whimpering Kolibri behind her.

"P-proscribed technology," Diodana muttered, her four photo-receptors unable to tear away from it. The lenses glinted magenta. "Forbidden. Fleet-eaters. It is...it creates...a hole in space-time..."

"The Warp..." Isis whined, clutching her head. She stared, transfixed, at the vortex. "...it goes to the Warp..." She whispered, terrified and awed, "It's hungry...it wants to eat us...oh empress, I can hear it howl..."

Elster ran over and held the Kolibri. "Shh, shh...it's...uh..." She shook her head and looked ahead. "Tulip! Get us out of here!"

"Already on it!" Tulip cried, the left side of her face bathed magenta. The Nomarch was already making a wide arc, hugging the outside edge of the Serpens Ferreus as it hove around. The Ara grasped a lever and slammed it as far forward as she could.

Everyone on the bridge was knocked backwards, as Tulip punched the engines to full bore.

"Diodana," Elster yelled, "get the Cloak up!"

"But what about..." the tech priest said, before looking down at her console. "...ah...I see..."

Her own radar showed what Elster noticed earlier. The instruments, taken from the Joys of Duty, glitched out. Showing, not a panoply of tiny dots, but a single massive object that dominated everything. Even the advanced auspex suites of the Imperium of Man were ill equipped to process a wound in reality itself. They were, in point of fact, fucking useless.

Which meant sensors were probably equally useless for everyone else involved in the battle.

The tech priest furiously tapped keys and flipped switches. Gradually diverting power even from the void shields, and to their mysterious Archeotech device. Only retaining enough integrity in the shields to shrug off one good direct hit. Under the circumstances, given both the urgency of the situation, the chaos of the engagement, and their hobbled instruments, the Fists were unlikely to land more than one shot.

"Uh...girls..." Vanessa said, lowering her headphones. She tugged a lock of her hair, clenching her teeth. "...is it getting bigger?"

Tulip tried pressing the throttle farther forward, looking over her shoulder at the colorful tear in space.

"It should not," Diodana said, trembling. "Though I am underschooled in the principles of Vortex weaponry, it should have reached its maximum size within seconds of appearing. Reality itself resists attempts to tear it infinitely. The bonds of Realspace must be weak for it to do so."

"Th-then why does it look like it's growing!" Vanessa said, pointing.

"...it's coming..." Isis whispered, hugging herself. "It hungers. It's coming. It follows. It wants to eat us!"

Elster hugged the Kolibri, stroking her hair. "It's okay...it's okay...shh..." She looked at Tulip. "Are we going as fast as possible?"

"Yes!" Tulip said, nodding. Her eyes darted between the vortex following the original line of the column, but backwards, and the direction of the void skirmish about to take place off their starboard side.

"Vom Revolutionär," Dash breathed, eyeing the Serpens Ferreus as it collided with a smaller vessel head-on. Its prow tore apart the lighter craft, as if it were nothing. It then exchanged lance beams with the Fist cruiser. Lance beams and drop pods. Each slamming into one another, burying into opposing hulls like ticks. Delivering a lethal payload of transhuman giants, to ravage each other's soft, baseline human innards. "Don't these guys know hell is literally breaking loose here?"

Elster sighed. "...what can be done about such reckless hate?"

The bridge crew clenched, watching the screens at all sides. Waiting to either be blasted to atoms by opportunistic void weapons, or swallowed whole by the single, persistent void weapon in their wake. Flying as fast as their little engines could, they could only watch as the vortex and the raw attrition of war tore apart belligerents on both sides.

Like galleons of old, exchanging cannon shot and saber-rattling boarders, heedless of the hurricane nipping at their heels.

Even Imperial Fist vessels reacted slowly to the vortex, signifying they may have not received advanced warning. Operational security over vox channels? The Fists were, generally, quicker to maneuver, owing to their less ponderous ships.

After several minutes, the Nomarch's crew slowly unclenched, breathing sighs of relief. The vortex grew disturbingly close at one point. But, bent on its own course, the vortex spun on. Scattering or swallowing ships as it went, heedless of allegiance, motivations, or origins. All it knew - all it cared for - was a bottomless hunger, and a lust for matter and life and souls.

Like a little slice of home, Mik'hul chuckled. No wonder Vashtorr adores you Realspace types. Mortals have such wonderful toys. Ain't that right, boss?

Elster gulped, head turned around to watch the vortex ponderously trek across the system. She kept massaging the Kolibri in her arms, whose panic was replaced by sobs. "...there, there..."

The vortex raged for hours, before Realspace glacially, finally, knit back together. Like a gaping wound, given time to scab over.

Chapter 38: The Serpent Burns

"Oh! You're awake!"

LSTR-R1109 blinked, rolling her head groggily. She felt the tingle of plastic tubing inserted into her nostrils. Felt an IV fixed to a port on her neck, feeding fluid into her veins. Somewhere nearby, a machine beeped softly in time with her heart. "..."

It took her a moment to realize the squinting replika sitting by her bedside, with the straw-colored hair, was an ARAR unit. Only the face shape gave it away.

The Ara forced a smile. "Guten Morgen. My name is Begonia."

"..." 1109 squinted at the lamp on her bedside table. Her hand rose weakly to block the light.

"Oh!" the Ara said, looking at the lamp. "Is it too bright? I'm sorry." She held up a book. "I was reading while...anyway, I can turn it off, if you want."

The bedridden replika nodded. "...th-ank...you..." she croaked, as the Ara switched the light off. 1109 rubbed her chest. "...the cough is..."

"Poppy said your procedure went very well," Begonia said, nodding. "Do you want me to get her?"

"..." 1109 inhaled, briefly marveling at how much easier it was to breathe. "...you don't...need to..."

"It's no trouble," Begonia said, shaking her head. She rose from her chair. "I'll be right back."

The LSTR inclined her head, watching the Ara shuffle off down a double row of beds similar to her own, that lined a hall carved from naked stone. Paintings of flowers and landscapes, in lavish frames of no consistent style, covered the walls behind each bed.

1109 wondered briefly if the Aras looted the artworks from the homes of officials, after many were executed during the transition period to Imperium rule. The LSTR let her head drop back down on the pillow.

She coughed once, though far less violently than she was accustomed to. She rubbed her chest, resting her eyes. Luxuriating in the (almost) complete cession of symptoms.

"..."

"How are we doing, 1109?"

The LSTR shocked awake. When had she nodded off?

"Oh! Sorry..." Poppy said, holding up her hands. The scarlet robes she wore made her stand out in the room of earth tones and white sheets. "I didn't mean to disturb your sleep."

"...s'okay..." 1109 croaked, rolling her head to see the Ara. "...is...my lung...?"

"Your left lung was successfully replaced," Poppy said, nodding. "Honestly, even if we didn't have a replacement ready, it would have needed removal. It was in terrible shape. The amount of particulate buildup alone was..."

The LSTR blinked, expression neutral and weary.

"...sorry, it doesn't matter," Poppy said, shaking her head. "Point is, the old is out, and the new is in. We had you in calibration for a full day, just to monitor it. The organ appears functional." She frowned, steepling her fingers. "I'm afraid you're going to need to keep your right lung, at least for a few weeks. We need to make sure your body will accept the new organ, before we replace your old one."

"..." 1109 shut her eyes, nodding. "...I...understand..."

"For now, just breathe easy," Poppy said. "And don't do anything strenuous, until your tissues knit together." She gestured nebulously with her hands. "We've got you on painkillers, while you recover from surgery. Some medicine to ease the irritation in your right lung. And, of course, antibiotics, to deal with the lingering infection from your oxident organ."

The LSTR unit rubbed her stomach, lifting her head to look where it was covered by the white sheet. "...is my...oxident...?"

Poppy nodded. "Your oxident organ has also been replaced. The original was host to some nasty infections, and was wearing down in either case. Your 'bloodwork' resembled swamp water more than normal oxidizing fluid. We also gave you a full transfusion."

"...you...didn't need to use so much..." 1109 croaked, frowning. "...what if someone else needed...?"

"Nonsense," Poppy said, waving her hand dismissively. "We had your new oxident organ running on life support for weeks before you arrived, so we had no shortage. And while LSTR unit oxident is a 'universal receiver', as far as replika 'blood types' are concerned, that makes it far less useful for giving to other units."

"...aren't Aras...also 'universal receivers'...?" 1109 croaked, narrowing her eyes. "You're...designed...to be robust..."

Poppy forced a nervous smile. She looked away. "...can't pull one over on an LSTR, can I?"

The recovering replika sighed. "...I'm equipped...with a medical module, you know..." she breathed, shutting her eyes. "...it's...my job...to understand how...to keep replikas going..." She looked at the Ara again. "...why lie?"

The Ara sighed, looking down. "...because after being with mom so long," Poppy said, rubbing the back of her neck, "you get used to a person who resists being helped."

"..."

The Ara from earlier - Begonia - shuffled down the hall again, carrying an IV bag full of clear fluid. She walked to the other side of the bed and fiddled with the IV stand. Switching the full bag with a nearly exhausted bag hanging from a hook.

"There," she said, tapping the full bag twice. She adjusted the thin, blue wool jacket she wore over the gray t-shirt. She looked down at their patient. "How are you feeling?"

"...better..." 1109 croaked, nodding.

"That's good," Begonia said, walking around the bed to stand at Poppy's side.

With the two side by side, the LSTR unit could study them more closely. The way they blended the face shapes with distinctly Empire pattern bodies. The non-standard hair styles and colors. Only in the higher echelons of the Nation had replikas been permitted such aesthetic embellishments.

"...she really did make you girls...didn't she...?" 1109 croaked, finally.

"That's right," Poppy said, nodding.

"Why help me...then...?" the LSTR said, raising an eyebrow. "...I'm not...her...is it...family resemblance?"

Poppy forced a smile. "I'll admit, Nepotism factors into it. Elster is our mom, so that makes you our aunt. I guess."

"That," Begonia said, squinting at her sister, "and because it's the right thing to do."

"Yes," Poppy said, nodding.

"..." The LSTR unit frowned. "...I can't just...live off your charity..." She rubbed her forehead, furrowing her brow. "I can repay you...somehow..."

"Don't worry about that now," Poppy said, holding out hands plaintively. "Your health is most important. You have a long road ahead of you. Plenty more organs need replacing."

"And Beatrice will find plenty of work for you to do," Begonia said, forcing a smile. "Once you're back on your hooves."

"..." 1109 sighed, resting her head on the pillow. She stared at the ceiling, thinking. "...everyone has a name here..." Except her model-mate, she noted curiously. LSTR-512 was just "Elster", it seemed. Then again, 1109 didn't blame her doppelganger going with the classic.

"Mmhmm," Begonia said, nodding. "Did the Nation not used to have replikas take names?"

"...Eules were...generally allowed...it was discouraged...among most others...not illegal, just...frowned upon..."

"Well, the Nation is gone," Poppy said, forcing a smile. "So you can take whatever name you like."

"..."

LSTR-R1109 frowned. She realized, with dismay, she would HAVE to take a nickname. Her model-mate more or less monopolized their informal designation in the hearts and minds of everywhere down here. 1109 could be seen as AN Elster, or perhaps "the Other Elster". But only 512 would be "Elster".

"..."

"...you...don't need to decide right away!" Poppy said, throwing her hands up. "There's no rush."

Begonia silently rubbed the book held in her hands. "...hey...did you want some reading material?" she asked, holding her book up. "We've got a library going. I can get something for you."

1109 looked at Begonia, then stared at the ceiling.

She smiled weakly. "...sure..."

 

The Serpens Ferreus burned.

It had been burning for hours. Its central reactor core compromised by lance strikes after extended ship-to-ship combat stripped away its void shields. Hull perforated not merely by voidship weapons, but by the single dealiest weapon carried by a Legion vessel: the Space Marines themselves. Impaled by drop pods, that disgorged dozens of transhuman warriors into the halls of the cruiser.

A favor the Serpens marines naturally returned in kind. The Iron Warriors sieging their foes, while the Imperial Fists fortified the innards of their ships.

These were plans committed to prior to the moment the Vortex appeared. Once the charges were begun and marines ensconced in drop pods, there was no aborting. Pride, honor, hate, and spite demanded nothing less.

But once the vortex spun towards the engagement in progress, even these bitter foes broke off. At least, their ships did. Separating, as a wound in reality itself cut them off from each other. Leaving those dozens of Astartes warriors, on each side, stranded on opposing vessels. With no hope of rescue for quite some time. Those committed to boarding actions could only see them through. To fight their way into control of the enemy craft, or die trying.

Dozens of Astartes, and thousands of baseline humans, perished. Slowly, inexorably. Grinding against one another, until miles of corridors and thousands of rooms ran red. Weapons discharged, until the insides were as scored, dented, and blackened as the exterior.

The Serpens Ferreus burned.

It was in pieces now. The central reactor core, punctured, burst open. Cracked in half like an egg. Blown out like an obstructed gun barrel. Hundreds of corridors on dozens of decks exposed to hard vacuum. Disgorging debris and smoke and shrieking bodies into space.

If any of its escorts survived the battle, they fled. Abandoned the Strike Cruiser to its fate.

But while not even a single ally came to rescue or even mourn it, a ship that flew alongside it did return.

The Serpens Ferreus burned. The Serpens Ferreus died. Now the carrion birds would feast, before greater scavengers arrived to claim the kill.

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Aras fitted suits of flexible, air-tight material with armor plates. Plates painted slate gray, despite vociferous demands (mostly from one replika in particular) to paint them in the black, red, and ocher of the Eusan Nation flag. Operational security demanded they not wear colors that might be recognized. Either between missions or pointing back to their system of origin.

The sole concession was in the three off-white stars stenciled over the wearer's heart. Subtle enough most pict-captures would overlook it, and most observers would fail to make the connection.

Elster nodded, raising a hand to examine the armored brace on her forearm. She clenched her gloved fist. "If they haven't signaled for help by now," she said, looking out the lounge window, "they're probably all or mostly dead. Now is the time to go in, before another ship comes along."

"Elster's right," Dash said, as she slipped her legs into the suit pants. Her hooves clicking into recesses modified into the normal gestalt boots. She tested her footing. "Fucking weird," she muttered, hopping from "foot" to "foot". "We don't want to be here if the Imperial Fists show up. Or the Iron Warriors, for that matter."

"I understand that," Vanessa said, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to the side. "I don't want to be here if they come within range to see through the Cloak, either. But what if there's still Space Marines onboard? Even if the atmosphere on the ship is vented, they could still be walking around in their suits. You can't take them on."

"Believe me," Elster sighed, her other arm being fitted with a brace installed with a suite of auspex devices, "I don't relish facing Space Marines either."

"What happens if you encounter them?" Vanessa said, furrowing her brow.

"If there's a lot of them," Elster said, raising her arms, as Aras fastened a belt around her waist, "we retreat. No ifs, ands, or buts. We can't win against a full squad of Astartes, full stop. Let alone a company of them."

"And if it's just a few?" Dash said, pulling the suit up around her shoulders. Aras waited in the wings to fit the looted Auxillia void suit plates on.

Elster smiled, patting a pill-shaped metal object on her belt. "That's what the krak grenades are for."

"Mom!" Vanessa said, huffing.

"Relax!" Elster said, holding gloved hands up plaintively. "Obviously, we're not going to underestimate them."

"Hey everybody, let's look at big sis over here!"

Hippolyta walked into the lounge, scowling. She elbowed the Storch next to her. "Kn-knock it off!" she growled, blushing.

Storch 02 chuckled, rubbing her thigh. "Hah hah! Sorry, sorry!"

Storch 03 snickered, looking down. "You gotta admit, Hip. It IS kind of funny."

"Shut up, you two," Hippolyta muttered, crossing her arms.

Dash suppressed chuckles, looking. "...nice legs, Hip..."

"Don't you start!" Hippolyta yelled, pointing at the Star. "You're in the same boat as me!"

"Difference is," Dash said, pointing two thumbs at her face, "I'm not losing as much height as you."

Hippolyta squirmed, face beet red. She stared impotently at the far-closer floor.

Elster covered her mouth, trying to make the smile disappear by force of will.

It often struck her how she, perhaps, adhered too strictly to the old Nation designs. Even when the prescribed forms were...inconvenient. The long legs on both STAR and STCR models were one such design decision that made some sense on Protektor units (and to go along with their totem animals). Tall, intimidating, able to see (and be seen) over crowds.

Utility of long, spindly legs greatly diminished when it came to fitting into scavenged void suits. Hence, the taller combat units needed to, themselves, be greatly diminished.

Exhibiting great foresight, Elster already put both Dash and Hippolyta through "short leg training', to acclimatize (or, from a certain viewpoint, re-acclimatize) them to running and fighting with sets of ARAR length legs. (ARAR pattern parts being the largest surplus on hand). Training that just happened to revolve around void suit operations, since that's where them having "normal" legs was most vital.

That was years ago, however. While Double Tap and Kite had seen Dash in reduced stature enough times to (mostly) get the gentle ribbing out of their systems, Hippolyta wasn't afforded the same consideration. To her newborn model-mates, the shortening of their "big sister" was still novel.

"J-just get the damn suit on me, and let's get this over with!" Hippolyta said, huffing.

 

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?"

Jenny had to nod with her whole torso, as the helmet padding restricted head movement. "Yes," she said, gently placing her oversized hand on the Ara's shoulder. "This is very dangerous. I don't know if I could live with myself if something happened to you."

Rose placed her hand onto Jenny's arm. She frowned. "I could help you, you know. I'll be really motivated, too."

"No couples on missions," Elster said, helmet tucked under her arm. Behind her, Aras made last-minute adjustments to the shuttle. "You know the rules. We can't have anyone taking stupid risks that get themselves killed, if their lovers are in danger. Everyone needs to keep a clear head."

"Believe me," said Double Tap, petting Petunia's magenta hair, "I wouldn't be able to stay on mission if I was there." She frowned, shutting her eyes. "And unfortunately, Elster needs a tech priest along, just in case."

Petunia, clad in void armor, hugged her lover around the waist. Holding her helmet in one hand. She looked up. "I'll be fine, Double Tap. Don't worry."

"I'm going to worry, and you can't stop me," Double Tap said, hugging Petunia back. She leaned over and kissed the Ara's head. "Don't take stupid risks, okay? Look out for you. The others can take care of themselves. Promise me?"

Petunia nodded, soberly. "I promise."

Nearby, another pair of lovers hugged.

"Fly safe, okay?" Myrtle said, smooshing her cheek into the top of the Eule's head. "Don't be a hero."

"I will, and won't, respectively," Sally said, nuzzling into Myrtle's neck. She pulled away, patting the Ara's shoulder with a gloved hand. "I'm staying on the shuttle."

"If we don't come back after the allotted time," Elster said, looking at Sally, "if we go radio silent for too long, or it becomes too dangerous, you leave. Alright, Sally? You need to get the shuttle back to the Nomarch. We can't afford to lose either you, or it."

"R-right," Sally said, looking over her shoulder. She nodded.

Off to the side, the Stars and Storches were handling firearms.

Dash looked up to Kite and Breach. Still exuding a commanding authority, despite her shortened stature. "Kite, I know you've had your eye on the captain position."

"Ah, Dash, you shouldn't have," Kite smiled, scratching the back of her head.

"I'm not giving it to you," Dash said, poking her sister's chestplate. "We both know Double Tap is the best qualified."

"Yeah, yeah," Kite said, laughing.

"But if I bite it out there," Dash said, soberly, "I want you to have my shotgun."

Kite gasped. "...holy shit..."

"You love that shotgun," Breach said, surprised.

Dash nodded. "A Nation shotgun won't do shit against Space Marine power armor. Probably little against gestalt soldiers, if they've got armor like this." She tapped the void suit plate on her chest. "It'll be useless without atmosphere, anyway. A lasgun is a safer bet. So keep her safe for me, alright?"

Kite frowned, then nodded. "Alright. Don't you die out there."

Dash hugged Breach, who started to tremble. "I'm not going to die easy, girls," she said, patting the younger replika's back.

"Come back safe, Dash," Breach mumbled.

Dash nodded.

Hippolyta loaded kraks into her grenade launcher. "I know it's not fair to leave you girls behind," she said, craning her neck up to look at the newborns. "If you were trained to do this, I'd have you along just for extra firepower." She set the weapon down, then checked the ammo on her laspistol.

"Don't fucking die, Hip," Storch 02 said, crossing her arms. "I still need to decide on my name. Don't die until after I figure it out, so I can tell you."

"And I still need to find a girlfriend," Storch 03 said, passing Hippolyta a bottle of water. She smiled mischievously. "Hey, if you bite it, can I make a move on..."

"I'm not dying," Hippolyta scrowled. She poked Storch 03 in the stomach. "So don't even think about making moves on Circe. You hear me?"

"I wasn't going to say Circe!" Storch 03 said, holding up her hands. She laughed. "I was going to say Isis!"

Hippolyta narrowed her eyes. "You know, we don't all have to date the 'libris. You can find someone else. There's no shortage of Aras. Or hell, see if Breach wants a roll in the hay."

Breach's eyes widened. She side-eyed Storch 03, who wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Achtung, people! Eyes on me!"

Elster waved her kids over. She stepped one booted hoof onto a storage box, resting her helmet on her raised knee. Waited until the strike team was prepared.

"Remember, girls," Elster said, "I set the itinerary, but Hippolyta is team leader while we're in the shit. If in doubt, she's in charge. Got it?"

The team nodded.

"I need to make this very clear," Elster continued, soberly, "we're going into a ship with an unknown number of surviving hostiles. And they WILL be hostile. No one gave us permission to enter. And the Iron Warriors don't see us as being remotely worthy of setting hoof in their halls without invitation. Hell, they'll probably assume we're auxillery troops for the Imperial Fists, if anything. These guys are going to fight like hell, just to survive. Let alone when they figure out what we're coming to steal."

The team members looked at each other uneasily.

"This is an Astartes ship," Elster said. "These are the bastards who conquered the entire fucking galaxy. Often in tiny numbers. They're beyond gestalts. Beyond Orks. Beyond anything you can imagine. Transhuman supermen, with the finest equipment, armor, and training the Imperium could afford. If any given Space Marine got on our ship, they could single-handedly kill every one of us, given enough time and ammo. Their helmets let them see your heat, and hear your breathing. They are walking tanks. And they're strongest here, in tight corridors, where numbers amount to nothing.

"Even after that battle they had with the Fists, there may be an unknown number of those bastards aboard. Do not underestimate them. Do not assume we can take any of them. They are an alpha level threat, and must be treated as such. If we don't have overwhelming advantage against one, do not engage. Fall back or flank. We only survive by being fast, smart, and evasive. If we let them dictate the terms of engagement, we WILL die. And if there's five of them around, we bail. Period. Understood?"

Her children nodded, uncomfortably.

"Good." Elster placed her booted hoof back on the floor. She held up her helmet. "Let's go."

 

Beep Beep Beep.

Emergency lights bathed the corridor in scarlet, and sirens blared. Footsteps resounded on the metal floors, as mortal crew filed down the large corridors.

Following dutifully after, for there were so few alternatives, was a servitor.

Once upon a time, his name was William. His friends called him Bob.

In his brief, painful moments of silent lucidity, he even thought of himself as Bob. When he wasn't internally screaming.

The janitorial programming in his brain augmetics made constant notes of places in the environment that needed cleaning. To clear the stains, move the bodies, sweep the shell casings, strip scorch marks, etc. But the override hastily installed, well, overrode this programming. For the time being, Bob's job was to follow his former (current?) crewmates, to see what the noise was about. The noise other than all the regular noises going on in a crippled spaceship filled with corpses and soon-to-be-corpses.

No one actually told Bob that's what they were doing. No one told Bob much of anything, except to give highly specific orders his brain augmetics could make sense of. But his meat-brain gathered from the words of the crew that their job was investigate the noise.

The noise and the grainy camera footage of a large object drifting into the corridors beyond the bulkhead door.

Around said door, the crew gathered. Brandishing lasguns pilfered from fallen defenders. Bob, for his part, just brought his metal claw arm, as he did at all times. No one wore void suits. Even if they had time to put them on, all the suits were shot full of holes.

As such, the crew looked uneasily between each other. They already knew exactly what lay beyond the bulkhead door: death. The cold, airless death of the void.

"...I mean, what does he expect us to do?" one technician said, pointing to the door. "We can't open it."

A cafeteria orderly shrugged.

A ping sounded behind the door. A vibration through the metal. It was soft. Unassuming.

"Could be debris pinging off the exposed interior," ventured a vox operator, his job rendered redundant when lance fire shredded the exterior vox transmitter arrays. As were all the regular instruments and cameras. If they couldn't find a porthole window that wasn't shattered, the crew were effectively blind to the outside.

"Didn't an object fly into the corridor from outside the ship?" asked another technician.

Another ping behind the door. This time in a different spot.

"It could be a chunk broken off from the other half," said a galley cook. "Something over there must have exploded, launched it into here."

"Maybe it's rescuers!" cried a technician. "They've come to save us!"

Another ping. Unnoticed by everyone except Bob, the pings were working their way around the edge of the round bulkhead door.

"Yeah, and maybe it's the Fists, come to fist us again," scowled the cafeteria orderly.

Another ping. Completely a circuit around the door's edge.

"Whatever it is, the Captain won't let us come back until we figure it out." A petty officer, elevated by virtue of being the last man in his squad to survive, turned away from the door and addressed his impromptu unit. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the bulkhead. "So I don't want to hear any more bellyaching, underst-"

BOOM.

Shaped charges blasted the door off its hinges in an instant. And, because the bulkhead door opened outward from the (until now) intact corridor, the difference in atmospheric pressure shot the door clean off. Sending it sailing into the void, along with all the air in every corridor connected to it.

Bob watched as those nearest the door were either knocked to the floor from the explosions, and/or promptly sucked bodily into space. The lucky ones smashed their heads or broke their spines against the rim of the metal doorway, so they perished instantly. The unlucky ones flew out cleanly, to tumble forever, their faces frozen in breathless agony.

The whirlwind of expelling air drew more than a few of the men out in short order, though those far enough away and the presence of mind had time to grab whatever they could. Support struts, exposed cabling, a fallen Space Marine.

Bob also had the presence of mind - he was quite lucid at the moment - but that meant little when his mind and body were no longer on speaking terms. Nonetheless, his metal arm was heavy enough that he kind of dragged along the ground by the appendage. Until he slammed into a crewmate clinging to a strut, the man (a technician) yelping in surprise and pain. It was a wonder he didn't let go, even as Bob was draped over him.

Cadavers slide or tumbled across the ground, sucked inexorably towards the opening.

The only screaming louder than the screaming of the men was the howl of the air rushing out the door.

By his augmetic eye, Bob saw flashes of scarlet from the darkness beyond. Normal humans couldn't distinguish the frequency of red of those flashes from the red emergency lights blaring inside. Even were they in a fit state TO notice. Bob found it funny, the details he focused on as a servitor.

There were very few aspects of Bob's hellish existence that could loosely be construed as "funny". So he took what comedy he could get. When he wasn't screaming internally (much like the crew were presently screaming externally), of course.

As equilibrium settled in that section of the ship, the atmosphere successfully decompressed explosively, the screaming rapidly gave way to increasingly quiet choking.

Well, no. Part of Bob's brain registered what was occurring was not choking. That would imply obstruction or perhaps the windpipe being crushed. No, what happened was asphyxiation. The humans in the corridor, deprived of void suits or other breathing apparatuses, began to asphyxiate. Another distinction no one but Bob, in his severe dissociation, appreciated.

Throats were clutched, as men gasped harder and harder. Vainly trying to wring breath from thinning atmosphere giving way to vacuum, as their painstakingly maintained pocket of air was remanded to the void. Some stubborn souls staggered to their feet, attempting to run for the next bulkhead doors in another section. They didn't travel far, before the exertion of running, sans oxygen, induced collapse. Other men simply remained where they stood or lay, knowing they were already dead. Only their bodies, engineered by millions of years of evolution to survive at all costs, were unwilling to accept that irrefutable fact. Sucking desperately for breath that would never come.

All grew blue in the face, their choking, gasping, and sobbing turned silent for lack of auditory medium.

Bob's heart raced faster and faster. Augmetics in his brain flashed warning signs. No doubt medical reports were being forwarded wirelessly to his controller. While the man he had clung to collapsed, foaming at the mouth, Bob realized with mounting horror and bemusement that his body seemed intent on dying standing up.

Then, from the doorway, they came.

The lasguns came first, checking for hostiles. Quickly, the figures filed in. People in armored void suits, not dissimilar to those of naval defenders on the floors already, murdered hours before. Gray plates. Helmets with rounded tops, with movable face shields fed by air hoses. Some had two round or oblong eye lenses, and one had a single long vision slit.

Four such figures filed through the door, sweeping and clearing. One brandished a grenade launcher. Another, taking point, carried a voidsmen combat shield, with a reinforced glasteel viewslit. A las-carbine rested on a notch formed on the edge of the shield, maximizing stability while operating one-handed.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The floor vibrated with heavy footfalls. A giant figure in power armor walked through the door (for it was an Astartes Strike Cruiser, and thus was built with such figures in mind). But the power armor was of no make or model familiar to Bob. Not that his rapidly failing faculties could remember much. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision.

The figure in power armor held a monstrous gun of some kind. Two meters long, thick, boxy. Again, of no design familiar to Bob. On their back was an armored air tank, and large containers affixed to the belt by magnetism.

The giant and three of the figures advanced, disarming any dying man who seemed remotely likely to raise their weapon against the invaders. In truth, none posed a threat, even if they wanted to.

Coming up last, lasgun hung loose and brandishing a laspistol, was a figure who slowly, methodically, performed executions. Coming up to each asphyxiating man, and putting a las bolt into them.

It was a mercy, really. Or at least Bob thought so. He had no way of knowing the fate to which their souls were condemned. All he knew was it was a preferable death. Quick, painless, from a foe the victim could blame. And that he longed to join them.

A wish Elster promptly granted. She paused only a moment, looking sadly at the servitor, before sticking her laspistol to the poor bastard's face. She fathomed only distantly the kindness she did him.

Thank god, Bob thought, a tear rolling down his cheek. I can finally die.

ZAP.

Chapter 39: Phall In Line

Three hostiles, approaching from port.

Hippolyta nodded, ducking low behind Dash's plasteel shield as they advanced. Las bolts pinged off the slab, or whizzed past them. The Storch motioned to the two replikas crouch-walking behind Jenny. Pointed to either side of the t-junction.

Elster nodded, pointing towards the closer edge. As Petunia formed up, back against the wall, Elster jogged across the gap and took position opposite her.

Engineer's ears strained to hear the approaching footfalls over the constant ZAPs sent their way. And over the stomping feet of their mobile cover.

Jenny, thought Circe, mind discharging now?

Okay. The Mynah had been waiting to get a better shot, but did as suggested. She charged the mining laser that was as long as a gestalt was tall. The end glowed and crackled with power.

ZHHHHOP!

An emerald beam struck a pile of boxes and scrap metal at the end of the corridor. Under the concentrated energy, the gestalts' cover exploded. Showering them in shrapnel, and sending its occupants scattering.

"Shit! Fuck!"

"What was that!?"

Elster heard the approaching men, halfway down the perpendicular corridor, stagger and stop.

"Now!" Elster said into the helmet radio, nodding to Petunia. She leaned around the corner and fired. Less than a second later, the Ara joined her.

ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP.

"Ah!"

"Argh!"

"Sweet mercy! Dea-"

The gestalts, unarmored, startled, and caught out in the open, could only discharge lasbolts wildly into walls and ceiling. Their bodies scythed down like grain, amid neutral gray walls turned momentarily scarlet.

Hippolyta, peeking around Dash's shield, discharged her laspistol at the disorganized defenders on their end. Scarcely watched men fall, before ducking behind again.

Dash continued to bathe the corridor in scarlet with each squeeze of the trigger of her las-carbine. Continued to advance. "...they're back in cover."

"I'm on it," Hippolyta muttered, holstering her laspistol. She opened her grenade launcher, unloaded a krak grenade, and inserted a frag. She peeked around again, raising the sight on her weapon. She measured an arc. "Fire in the hole!"

Shunk,

The ordinance sailed over Dash's shield, across a field of dead bodies and debris, and bounced on the floor. It flew at an angle, before bouncing off a back wall into cover.

"Shit!"

"Grenade!"

Gestalts ran or dove out of cover. One tripped over the still warm cadaver of his companion, breaking his nose on the metal floor grating. "Ah!" he cried, struggling to crawl away.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Men were struck by scarlet bolts from Dash's weapon. She timed to spray just as the grenade landed. An arm was blown off, blackened and cauterized.

Boom!

Men screamed, as shrapnel burst out in all directions. Ricocheting off the metal floor or embedding in whatever surface they could. Funneled into the crowd of gestalts, while the corner shielded the replikas from damage.

"Flanking from the left," Elster said over the radio. A cascade of las bolts fired down the corridor from the port side. Eliciting a renewed round of pained and terrified cries.

"Understood," Hippolyta said, motioning forward. "Advance and close!"

Dash ran forward, the Storch close behind. They heard and felt the Mynah quicken her pace, if only slightly. She was not made for speed.

Hippolyta look a single second to look up at the ceiling, then pointed her laspistol. A single bolt of scarlet eradicated another security camera.

"W-we're being overrun!" cried a gestalt into a hand vox, as he crawled down the corridor. "Send he-"

ZAP. ZAP ZAP ZAP.

"ARGH!" he screamed, dropping his radio.

"..."

The five replikas swept the remaining corridors. Watching each other's backs.

Elster adjusted the knob on her lasgun, and began executing wounded men.

"..."

Your section is clear, girls, Circe thought. You're free to cross to the next bulkhead.

"Copy that," Hippolyta said. She crouched, patting down men for supplies. She added another laspistol power pack to her collection. Reloaded.

Elster fixed a bayonet to the end of her lasgun, and applied it selectively to the soft spots of prone gestalts who still seemed to breathe. Eyeing her Soul Count.

Petunia gulped, pressing a gloved hand to the front of her helmet where her mouth would be. "...d-do you need to be so...thorough...?" she blanched.

The replika commander paused her murder, looking over to the Ara. Her bayonet was still lodged in the spine of a human being. "...they're going to die anyway. Best to expedite it." When the Soul Count decremented, she pulled the lasgun back. Blood dripped from the tip onto his gray jumpsuit. "They suffer less, and we don't get shot in the back."

The Ara shuddered, nodding with trepidation. "...I-I g-guess that m-makes sense..."

"Ooh! Look what I found!"

The two looked sideways, as Jenny set her mining laser down and stooped. She pulled a huge gun from the grip of a fallen legionary in bright yellow armor. "I wonder if I could use you?" she said, examining the Bolter.

"Worth a try, I guess," Elster said, shrugging. "It's about the right size for you."

Jenny awkwardly handled the weapon, keeping her finger off the trigger. After much fiddling, she discovered how to eject the magazine. Examining the ammo count, she searched the ground again, before yanking an additional magazine off the legionary's belt. Inserted the fresh ammo, then pointed the bolter down the corridor, away from everyone else.

"Go ahead, Jenny," Dash said, looking over her shoulder from where she kept watch with her shield. "Try it out."

"Is it alright?" Jenny said, before ejecting the full mag and inserting the half-spent one again.

"Sure," Elster nodded. She smiled behind her helmet. "Why not?"

Jenny made sure to put her own body between the bolter and the others, then sighted a corpse on the ground. "...apologies," she whispered, to the corpse.

BAM!

The corpse exploded in a shower of gore, painting the gray wall nearby a bright crimson. Shattered bones rained down, clattering on the metal floor.

Dash whistled. "Nice."

"Fuck, that was loud!" Hippolyta cried, pressing a gloved hand to the side of her helmet.

Petunia nodded, clutching a hand to her chest plate. "...really l-loud..."

Elster sucked air, clutching her chest. She expected it, so the could brace herself against the shock. Still, her heart raced, and her fingers trembled. The memory of her previous encounter with a bolt weapon threatened to bubble up. She forced it back down, clenching her teeth. "...g-good job, Jenny."

Jenny staggered back one pace, foot stomping on the metal floor. She forced the bolter back to a level position, smoke wafting from the barrel. "Oh my," she said, eyes wide in shock, staring at the annihilated once-human. Frowned. She looked down at the weapon. "...and she kicks like a mule, too."

Elster nodded, stepping over tentatively to stand by Jenny's side. "Diodana says bolters are a combination of bullet and rocket. Propelled first by the firing action, then shooting out under its own power for greater force. And it's filled with explosives, so..."

"Shit," Hippolyta said, shaking her head. She pointed down the corridor. "Hey Jenny, try another one on that marine over there."

The Mynah couldn't nod in her padded helmet, so she aimed. "Very well," she said, sighting in. Even lightly trained as she was, she lamented the weapon's lack of a stock to brace against. Do the space marines just...hold it steady with brute strength alone? she thought, frowning. "Firing!"

BAM!

The shot impacted the ceramite plate dead-on. Instead of puncturing it, the explosion seemed to "dent" it. As if the armor formed a cavitation bubble where it struck, without compromising the plate's structural integrity elsewhere.

"Damn," Elster said, wincing with her full body. Heart racing again. She tried to force herself through the trigger, by intellectualizing. "...l-looks like...we can't rely on that thing to 'delete' Astartes."

"A shame, really," Dash said, shaking her head.

Petunia, shaking, tapped her lasgun thoughtfully. "...I guess, until the civil war," she mused, "the space marines weren't planning on fighting each other. It makes sense their weapons would be ineffective in that case."

Jenny sighed, ejecting the mostly spent magazine and loading the full one. "Oh well," she said, engaging what she intuited was a safety switch. She turned around and stomped a few steps, magnetizing the bolter to her belt. "I suppose I'll stick with Old Reliable," she said, picking up her mining laser. "It has less kick anyway."

"Can we get moving?" Petunia said, raising a finger. She looked queasily around at the mass of bodies.

"Yes," Hippolyta said, loading another frag grenade into the first chamber of her cycling launcher. "Let's waste no more time. They HAD to have heard that."

 

"Did you hear me? I said I want them dead!"

The three figures, taller than any gestalt, nodded soberly. "Yes, Captain," one of them said. "Understood."

Tankred Kurl wheezed, clutching his bandaged chest. "Can any of you useless worms tell me anything about the boarders?" he grunted, panting through his oxygen mask.

"Before destruction of camera B7H61," intoned the tech adept with a synthesized voice module, "confirmed four baselines in void suits. One large figure in power armor."

"Wh-why...do you not just say it is a legionary?" Kurl grunted, narrowing his eye at the tech priest.

"It is NOT Astartes," the adept said, leaning on a staff festooned with wires and diodes. "Armor of unknown manufacture. Primitive. Ponderous. Pathetic." He tightened his grip on the staff. "An insult to even compare to the Omnissiah's..." He ceased speaking immediately. "...the False Omnissiah's work."

The Captain's scarred mouth sneered beneath the clear plastic of the oxygen mask. "It matters not," he said. He looked between the four stood before him. "Well? Get moving!"

"Yes, my lord!" said one of the transhumans, saluting. The three turned and stomped out the door.

Kurl eyed the tech adept. "That means you, too, priest."

The adept looked nervously between the wheezing officer and the figure standing at his bedside. "...how am I to contribute, if those three cannot?" he said, a hint of human feeling creeping into the sterile voice.

"Think. Of. Something." Kurl growled, tightening his grip around the power axe resting against the side of his bed.

"Yes sir," the adept said, bowing, "of course, sir." He turned, walking away.

Within his mind, the adept connected to what remained of the local Noosphere network. Precious little to work with. But, luckily, there was one tool designed for roughly this scenario. Or rather a multitude of tools.

 

"Sally, you're free to relocate the shuttle to the next hole in the hull. You can track us by our transponder signals."

"Got it," Sally said over the radio.

The group walked through another section of corridors exposed to hard vacuum. Their boots magnetized to the metal floor, to counteract the localized failure of artificial gravity.

Hugging the starboard corridors, they located the immense hole blown into the ship from lance fire. Power couplings spat sparks into the void. Hung in space beyond the rupture was the Nomarch, tethered to the Serpens Ferreus by a magnet on the end of a thick cable, fired at the derelict's hull. Beyond the Nomarch, the infinite sea of stars.

As they navigated the half-destroyed metal walkways across the chasm, they saw far in the distance the dance of void ship directed energy weapons. The battle in Phall yet ongoing. Indeed, the fighting had spread out, as the formerly rigid wedge-shaped Iron Warriors formation broke into several different splinters.

Hippolyta raised her laspistol, aimed, and fired upon any security camera she spotted. No guarantee the cameras were even still powered. But better safe than sorry.

Before they entered back into the dark, airless confines of the corridors, the shuttle hove into view.

"Are those your las-shots, girls?" Sally said over the radio.

"Yes," Elster said, waving at the shuttle. "You should be safe to wait here. We're going back inside now."

"Roger," Sally said, drawing next to the ship's puncture wound and anchoring herself on a piece of jutting metal. "Good luck."

 

"How many in this next section, Circe?"

Automated systems pumped air into the transitional corridor. The replika strike team stood between two bulkheads. One that just finished closing. One about to open.

I'm not sure, Circe thought.

"How can you not be sure?" Dash asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Are they there or not?"

I thought I sensed three hostiles approach, Circe thought. But suddenly, I lost track of them...

The valve handle spun, airlocks disengaging. The bulkhead door swung open automatically.

Circe screamed in thought. Watch out! One's right there!

The replikas braced, watching the door.

A frag grenade slipped through the widening gap, tumbling to the floor.

Jenny was the first to act. Pushed away any other replika in reach, then threw herself over the munition. She folded arms and her mining laser in front of her chest.

Boom!

Shrapnel ricocheted off the metal floor, striking the walls and ceiling.

"Shit!" Dash barked, feeling shrapnel impact her shield. And her leg. "Ugh!" she grunted, gritting her teeth. Looked over her shoulder. "Y-you alright?"

Petunia clutched her lasgun, trembling. "Y-yeah!"

"Jenny!" Elster cried, staggering to her feet. She crouch-walked over to the prone giant.

"Ngh! You sons of bitches!" Hippolyta yelled, getting up. She raised her grenade launcher. "Have some of your own medicine!"

Shunk. Shunk. Shunk.

Klnk! Klnk!

"What?" cried a masculine voice, footsteps retreating a pace. As did the beeping sound.

"No!" cried another, before twin sets of footsteps ran away.

Two sets of beeps, slightly offset from one another, intensified.

"No no no no no n-!"

BOOM! BOOM!

Steel crunched violently.

"ARGH!"

Through the swinging bulkhead door, the starboard wall of the corridor was visibly painted by bright red gore.

BOOM!

The wall was further marred by shrapnel, as the frag grenade loaded first into Hippolyta's launcher finally went off.

"FFfffagh!"

Jenny pushed herself to her knees, looking at Elster. "Go," she said, panting, "I'm fine."

Elster examined the front of the Mynah. Indeed, while much of the fabric layer of her arms and legs were torn, her armored center of mass was merely scratched. Or, in a couple places, shrapnel was embedded in the intact armor plates. In truth, her mining laser took the brunt of the punishment.

Hostile's attacking! Circe thought.

Jenny, responding to the warning, or perhaps hearing the boot stepping on metal, gripped her mining laser.

Petunia screamed, paralyzed. Recoiling in horror.

A miniature giant jumped onto the threshold of the bulkhead doorway. His muscles, bulging and pale, were perforated in spots by minor shrapnel wounds. As was his head. His teeth were clenched hard enough to crack bone. The left part of his jaw exposed to the open air, as the skin was sheered off his cheek and chin.

The left part of his partial power armor was blown out. And his entire left arm was missing, only a burned and bloody pulp remained.

His eyes flashed with pure hate.

The space marine initiate raised a colossal shotgun with one hand. Aimed straight at Elster's head.

Everyone was too slow in raising their lasguns.

Jenny was not slow with her mining laser. She was already moving. She spun around, swinging the bulky tool like a huge bat.

Bang!

The shotgun discharged into the ceiling, as the scout's arm was snapped out of place. The mining laser shattering even the gen-hanced bone and elbow joint.

"Argh!" the partial space machine grunted, the Astartes shotgun tumbling from his now limp hand. Clattering to the ground. He hissed, wincing. Then, his eyes went wide.

The other replikas caught up with their lasguns. Elster, Hippolyta, Dash, and even Petunia.

"Die, die, die, die, die!" Hippolyta screamed, squeezing the trigger on her laspistol.

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

A mind already enhanced by the miracles of Imperial genecraft and partial hypno-indoctrination, the Iron Warriors initiate became painfully aware of his circumstances.

Years proving himself worthy of even being considered. Years of genetic testing, to ensure purity. Years of training. Years of hypno-indoctrination. Hundreds of hours of excruiciating surgeries. The loss of his homeland, his childhood, his manhood, his mother's face, and even his own name. All the toil, pain, and sacrifice.

All wasted.

He watched as his body was systematically dismantled, piece by piece. Bathed in scarlet, his muscles torn and his tissues flash-boiled by concentrated energy. Sheering away flesh, scorching skin, and charring bone.

Somehow, by skill or chance, the bolt that burst his brain came from Elster's weapon. She knew it for a fact, as her Soul Count decremented by 10 in an instant.

Huh, Elster thought, eyes widening fractionally. Watching the unmoored torso, the only part protected by ceramite, topple backwards through the opening. Does this mean a baby Space Marine has 'more soul' than a baseline gestalt? Or is this just a bounty Vashtorr is running, to encourage me to remove greater threats to his plans? In any event, neat.

The five replikas panted, holding their weapons out in front of them.

Dash was the first to break the silence, as she took a step forward and winced. "Ugh...shit..." she gasped, falling to one knee.

"Dash!" Elster said, rushing over. "Hippolyta, Petunia! Cover us!"

"Got it!" Hippolyta said, pressing up to the side of the doorway.

"R-right!" Petunia took a spot on the opposite side.

Bang!

The bulkhead door opposite the opening was struck by an oversized buckshot round.

Hippolyta looked to Petunia and nodded. She crouched, leaned, and pulled the trigger. "Hol dir welche!" she yelled.

Zap Zap Zap.

Two figures, similar in stature to the deceased scout, retreated into cover down the corridor.

"Are you alright, Dash?" Elster said, checking the Star's leg.

There was a hole in the suit, snuck between two armor plates. Pulling the sides of the hole apart, she could see another hole in the synthetic skin. Thankfully, replika bodies restricted oxident flow to the organic tissues (mostly in the torso, neck, and head), so there was no possibility of bleeding.

"We'll have to pull the shrapnel out back home." Elster pulled a medical spray from her belt. Sprayed a layer of foam, which would hopefully also seal the suit itself, at least for the return trip. "Can you stand?" Elster said, looking up to study Dash's featureless helmet.

"Hold on," Dash said, putting both hooves under her. She supported herself using the shield, then tried to rise. She hissed, clenching her teeth. "Fffuck..."

"If it's too much," Elster said, frowning behind her helmet, "we can..."

"No, no," Dash said, shaking her head. She stood up, wincing. "I can...keep going. I might be a little slow..." She limped forward.

"If you're sure," Elster said, looking over her shoulder. "How about you, Jenny?"

"I'm fine," Jenny said, standing up. "It just stings a bit." She examined her mining laser.

"You gonna be able to void-walk with all those tears?" Dash asked, checking the ammo on her las-carbine.

"Most of this is superficial," Jenny said. "You girls are wearing suits. I AM my suit. It'll need re-sealing if I ever want to go into high temperature environments again. But so long as my chest and helmet are intact, I can walk around in vacuum no problem."

Hippolyta pressed her back against the wall again, letting Petunia take over covering fire. The Storch replaced the power pack in her laspistol. "We gotta advance. Who knows what else might come." She looked to Dash. "You okay to take point still?"

Dash nodded.

 

"Go!"

Dash stepped through the doorway, shield ready.

With las fire no longer forthcoming, one of the scouts leaned out from around a corner and started firing with his oversized shotgun.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Spent cartridges clattered to the floor at his feet.

The Star felt the impact of the shots through the shield, rocking up her arm. She didn't fire her las-carbine. "Any time, Hip!"

"One second," Hippolyta said, following close behind. She gauged the distance, arcing her grenade launcher. "Keep him in view..."

The other scout, hiding behind a thick metal barricade, rose to standing position and aimed a pistol. A bolt pistol.

BAM!

The upper corner of Dash's shield was blown back, cut clean through. The round kept going, striking the wall behind them and exploding. Chunks of metal and power cables burst out from the surface, showering the floor.

"Shit!" Dash cried. "New plan! Hit THAT one!"

"Dammit," Hippolyta gritted her teeth. She changed trajectory.

Shunk!

The scout behind the barricade saw the grenade fly over his head. Heard the beeping behind him. "Shit!" he yelled, leaping over his cover. "Advance!"

His battle brother, in the midst of reloading his shotgun, looked sideways and ran forward in panic.

Dash finally squeezed the trigger on her las-carbine.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Two shots scorched the barricade or the far wall. Another singed the shotgun scout's arm, which he ignored.

BOOM!

The metal barricade was bent forward with the force of the krak explosion. The two scouts advanced. The one with the shotgun firing.

The other revved a chainsword. "Rragh!" he bellowed, melee weapon spinning in one hand, while firing his boltpistol with the other.

BAM! BAM!

One shot went wide, blowing out a wall panel. The other shattered Dash's las-carbine.

"Shit!" the Star cried, dropping the mangled hunk of metal as it sparked. "Need some help!"

Go now, Jenny! Circe thought.

The Mynah walked as quickly as she could through the doorway, mining laser charging. The sighting beam leveled. She stopped, bracing herself.

ZZZHHHOP!

The bolt pistol - and the hand holding it - were annihilated in the concentrated energy burst. The scout's forearm blackened and cauterized by extreme heat. The proto-Astartes only winced, not even pausing his stride.

Dash raised her shield in response to an overhead swing.

SCREEEEE!

The plasteel slab shot sparks as the serrated chain dug into it at high speeds. The noise was deafening. The strength behind the blow immense, as the scout held the weapon down against the barricade. His bulging arm muscles forcing the Star to her knees.

"Sshhhhhit!" Dash hissed, wide-eyed with horror as the chainsword began cleaving through the shield, inch by bloody inch. "Hip!"

The Storch ran around the side and pulled her laspistol.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

A chunk of the scout's arm muscle blew off in a cooked, gory mess. He pulled his chainsword away and swung wildly.

"Fuck!" Hippolyta staggered back, evading. She raised her laspistol, but another wild swing destroyed it in her hands with a shower of sparks.

"Verdammt!" she yelled, tripping over herself. She fell on her ass as she struggled to get some distance. "Son of a-"

Jenny weathered a hail of buckshot, that grew closer and closer by the moment. The pellets, though mighty, bounced uselessly off her solid metal plates, rated to easily protect against small arms fire and literal fire. She allowed the end of her mining laser to drop.

When the initiate was in point blank range, the Mynah said, "Now!".

Petunia leaned around Jenny's broad back, lasgun leveled.

ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Wide eyed, the scout with the shotgun felt first his shoulder explode, then his leg. Felt immense heat clip his ear. He fell to the ground, seeing his severed arm flop to the floor in front of him, gripping the shotgun. The flesh above the bicep smoked.

Dash charged, shield first, slamming into the scout with the chainsword.

"Ah!" the initiate cried, as even his immense frame was thrown off balance. He staggered, back hitting the wall. He looked between the replikas, barring his teeth. He made to walk toward Hippolyta, revving his chainsword for a backhanded swing.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

The scout's leg, arm, and head burst beneath a barrage of las bolts.

Hippolyta's legs shrank back, as the chainsword clattered to the floor in front of her. She winced, tucking booted hooves in. She only unclenched when the chain stopped spinning on its own. The heavy, mangled body crumbled to the ground a second later, smoking.

The Storch craned her neck back, looking up. "...took you long enough."

Elster, standing over Hippolyta, lowered her lasgun. She looked down. "Sorry. I needed you both out of the way." She extended a hand, helping her daughter to her hooves.

"Dammit," Hippolyta muttered, looking at the savaged metal chunk in her hand. "I liked that pistol." She discarded it to the floor, then bent down to pick up the grenade launcher she dropped earlier.

The remaining scout, heaving through clenched teeth, forced himself up to his knees. He looked up at his attackers.

Elster stepped forward, leveling her lasgun at his head. "You're going to tell me where it is."

"...huff...where...what is?" the scout panted, glaring up at her.

"The vault," Elster said. "Where you store your..." She furrowed her brow, tilting her head. She snapped her fingers, one, twice. "...gene...sperm?"

The scout's eyes widened. Then, he furrowed his brow, scowling. "Fuck you!"

Suddenly, he pulled a knife from his belt and held it high.

"No."

Jenny grabbed the proto-marine's wrist. In her haste, she squeezed harder than she meant to.

"Ah!" the scout groaned, his bones audibly cracking. His hand went limp, the knife clanking on the metal floor.

"Oh! Sorry!" Jenny said, released the now thoroughly broken wrist. Her hoof stomped as she took one step back.

"Ugh!" Petunia cringed, recoiling as well.

"Don't apologize," Dash said, looking between the scout and her damaged shield. "These assholes were going to kill us."

"And because of them, we need new weapons," Hippolyta said, hefting her grenade launcher.

"There's no shortage," Elster said, shrugging. She kept her eyes on the initiate. "I'll ask again. Where's your...whatever it's called? In the vault?"

Panting, bent over his throbbing arm, the scout looked up at Elster with clenched teeth.

He spat on her boot. "...as if...huff...I'd tell you. Eat shit...and die!"

Elster looked down at her now soiled boot, then back to the initiate. "As you wish. I already have a map. I was just giving you an opportunity to live." She inclined her head slightly. "Petunia, look away."

The Ara quickly averted her gaze.

ZAP.

The scout's corpse slumped to the ground, his blackened neck smoking,

Elster checked her power pack, then switched it for a new one. She stalked to the front of the group, weapon leveled. "Search bodies until you find replacement guns. We need to move."

Behind her helmet, she scowled.

Seriously, she thought, they call it gene-sperm?

Chapter 40: Phall Guy

"Ngh...I did not say stop!"

The scant remaining menials left alive on the ship cringed, ducking. They trembled.

"Forgive us, master!" one said, resuming the task of fitting the chest plate on their Captain.

Tankred Kurl winced. The sucking chest wound, already leaking blood into the bandages, was forcibly covered. He gritted his teeth, shutting his eye.

"This is highly unwise," said the legionary standing to the side, watching behind his white helmet as his patient was ensconced in armor again. "Even with our advanced physiology, your body cannot take such exertion."

"I can endure it, Dulcat," Kurl breathed, rising heavily to his feet.

"It is not the endurance of pain that is the problem," Dulcat said. "Your remaining heart is taxed enough as it is, without its mate. It may give out during battle, before long."

The Captain panted, reaching an arm out for the serfs to bind with gauntlet. "I will...simply...have to kill them...faster, then..." He ripped the oxygen mask from his face, and accepted his customary battle respirator.

He looked sidelong at the Apothecary. "You, of all people," he seethed, narrowing his eye, "should understand the price - the dishonor - if these worms plunder our precious gene-seed."

Dulcat stared at his Captain, then nodded. "I do." He clenched his fist. "It shall not come to that. Not so long as I draw breath."

 

"Run! Run away! Move!"

The air was filled with the patter of booted hooves, and the high-pitched whine of spinning sawblades.

"This way!" Hippolyta barked, rounding a corner. She raised her pilfered lasgun high, back where they came. Waiting until Elster and Petunia ran, ducking, past her.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

A floating skull shattered, sending its spinning blade tumbling to the floor. The blade screeched, sending up sparks where it shattered on the metal grating.

The Storch resumed running, free hand rising to clutch the cut on her arm. She clenched her teeth, panting. "Keep moving!"

Behind her, four more floating Servo Skulls rounded the corner, whining blades warbling in pitch with the shift in direction. They pursued, unceasingly.

"Are...huff...are they going to be okay back there?" Petunia wheezed, looking fearfully over her shoulder. The armor plates on her chest and shoulder sported ragged cuts, that exposed the raw metal underneath the paint.

"They'll have to be," Elster said. She turned, running backwards. "Hip! Duck!"

ZAP. ZAP.

The Storch crouch-ran, as twin scarlet bolts flew over her head. One las shot broke spokes off a skull's blade. Another skull exploded in a shower of jagged metal, wires, and shattered bone.

Elster turned again, as Hippolyta caught up with her. They ran, making for the next bend.

 

"Rraagh!"

Jenny swung her mining laser like a tree trunk. Its incredible length and girth swung harmlessly past a servo skull, which rose out of the way with ease.

The machine hove around in an arc, shredding the outer layer of Jenny's leg.

"Ah!" Jenny winced, panting.

A Mynah chassis - or the Empire equivalent - was designed such that the unit could voluntarily turn off their pain receptors at will. At least, in their mechanical parts. A concession to the extreme conditions under which her kind were expected to work. Or, in the case of the Schnapper, during active combat engagements.

Accustomed to light work solely in vacuum, and far outside combat scenarios, Jenny could never remember the setting in her digital interface to toggle this feature. It seemed a poor time to go searching.

"Hang in there, Jen!"

Another skull flew in, shedding sparks where its blade sheered into the surface of the Star's shield.

Dash, clenching her teeth, pushed with the shield, sending the skull tumbling away. "Eat las!" she jammed the regular lasgun into the notch on her shield. A poor fit, but it would have to do.

ZAP ZAP. ZAP.

Bone cracked off the skull's top, the internal machinery jammed in its brain cavity shooting sparks. It jerked around in the air, flying backwards and spinning. It crashed against the wall, creating more sparks. It righted itself, barely, before flying in for another charge.

ZAP. ZAP.

The skull dodged the shots, its trajectory curving away from Dash.

"Ah!" Jenny yelped, the sawblade bouncing off her helmet. Creating a shallow nick in the metal. She waved a hand, trying to fend the machine off. She managed to smack it across the room, at the price of the blade cutting into the back of her hand. "Argh!" she grunted, wincing.

"D-drop that laser, Jen!" Dash yelled, blocking another skull as it made an attack run. "It's no use! Try something else!"

ZAP ZAP.

Another skull, repositioning in the air, exploded beneath the las bolts.

The two replikas were backed against the wall, side by side.

Jenny looked at her arm. Saw the deep cut, leading from forearm, to wrist, to the back of her hand. She flexed her fingers, testing functionality. "Ah!" she ducked, a skull sailing over her head and smashing into the wall. It tumbled back, retreating to regain momentum.

The Mynah looked down. Then, dropped the mining laser. The two meter monstrosity banged loudly on the floor.

As another skull hove in, Jenny leaned down, and grabbed a corpse by the ankle.

"Hragh!" she grunted, swinging an entire man at the whirling buzzsaw skull. Stagnant blood flew, as the blades cleaved through cold flesh and dug into bone.

The force was enough to send the machine flying, until it crashed into a wall and flopped onto the floor.

Dash panted, side-eyeing Jenny. She grinned. "I...huff...was thinking more...that bolter..."

Jenny leaned down, grabbing another cadaver. She stood up, duel-wielding bodies. "I'm not...a good shot..." She sniffed, furrowing her brow. "...this...I can do..."

 

"Scheisse!"

Elster shrank, as a buzzsaw servo skull erupted, whining, from an air vent. She ran on, keeping herself low. She nearly jumped in her synthetic skin when she felt and heard it dive over her back, blade tickling her rear armor plate. "Verdammt!" she cried, stumbling sideways as the skull sparked on the ground beside her.

"Dio!" Hippolyta yelled over the radio, as they turned a corner. "How do we stop these servo skulls!?"

"Are they a danger?" said Diodana, surprised.

"They've got saws and they're...shit!" Hippolyta ducked, then leveled her lasgun ahead of her.

ZAP.

The skull that passed her exploded, crashing to the ground. She jumped over it.

"...they've got buzzsaws and shit! There's a whole swarm of them!"

"Ah," Diodana said. "Such weaponized servo skulls, of course, would need to be controlled by a tech priest. No self-respecting servant of the Machine God would tolerate autonomous machines."

Elster reached out with her mind. Circe. We need to find the tech priest controlling these things. Can you locate them?

Let me see... thought Circe.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Petunia fired wildly forward, blowing one skull out of the air in front of them. Another two sped forward. "Incoming! One o'clock!" she cried, ducking.

Elster leveled her own lasgun.

ZAP. ZAP.

Another exploded. The third had chunks of bone break off.

Elster rolled under the skull as it tumbled forward, off-balance. She staggered to her hooves and kept running.

Hippolyta turned, jogging backwards, and raised her grenade launcher.

Shunk.

A frag grenade sailed out, smacking a skull directly in the face. It cracked the thin bone where its nose would be. A growing cloud of servo skulls chased them, flying over the munition as it clattered to the ground.

BOOM.

The fleeing replikas spun around the corner as shrapnel ripped out in all directions.

Roughly half the machines were struck. Bone cracked or broke away. Spinning blades were dented, locking mechanisms in place, until they smoked and caught fire. One skull, a piece of foreign metal lodged deep in its cogitator, flew wildly upward, crashing into the ceiling at high speed.

Still, the swarm at large kept coming, a little worse for wear.

Elster, thought Circe, I think I've found the tech priest.

"Where are they?" Elster panted, angling her run sideways to evade another skull that erupted from a vent. She spun around, squeezing the trigger.

ZAP.

A chunk of metal spun off from the sawblade.

Eight meters forward, and two to the side, from your position.

Elster gritted her teeth. She pointed. "Shit, they're behind that wall!"

"Can they...huff...see through...guh...the skulls?" Petunia said, panting. She stumbled forward, righting herself. "Oh god...I'm so...tired..."

"Do we have time to..." Hippolyta said, before they were right on top of the spot. They turned the corner, the Storch looking over her shoulder. "...no, we don't. Fuck!"

Hold on, Circe thought. You can't get through in time, but...

 

Jenny! Pick up your laser!

A heavily lacerated corpse, missing its arms and a leg, slammed down on a skull. The bone cracked, and the saw whined and sparked against the metal floor.

"...huff...what?" Jenny said, looking up. She batted another skull away with a severed arm.

Hurry! Circe thought. The tech priest controlling them is behind the wall, to your right!

Jenny's eyes lit up. "Oh!" She turned her head, seeing the others running up. "Dash, cover me!"

"Uh, alright!" Dash said, pushing another skull away. Her shield was scraped and sliced like a cheap cutting board. She turned her back to the Mynah. "Guys, a little help over here!"

Elster, seeing the Mynah bend down to her mining laser, picked up the pace. "Give Jenny covering fire!"

The three most mobile replikas charged. Raising their lasguns.

ZAP. ZAP ZAP. ZAP. ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Dash ducked, as las bolts flew around or above her. Multiple skulls fell to the floor in pieces, sparking. The Star aimed her lasgun, awkwardly pressing the too-long weapon to the shield notch.

ZAP ZAP. ZAP.

The trio, having given the slower replikas space, skidded to a stop around them.

Elster and Petunia turned around, brandishing weapons. "Here they come!" Elster yelled, aiming.

ZAP. ZAP.

Two onrushing skulls exploded, one skidding forward in a flaming mess along the ground.

Petunia had to pull up her leg to avoid getting clipped by the whirling blade. "Ah! What are we doing?"

Jenny crushed the machine beneath her heavy hoof, then raised her mining laser. "Behind there?" she muttered.

Yes, Circe thought.

"Where exactly?" the Mynah said, charging the comically large weapon.

She blinked. Before her eyes, she saw the hazy outline of a person. Their head alight with cold, pale flame.

There.

Jenny narrowed her eyes, sighting in. "Hold on."

Perhaps the tech priest saw what was happening from behind the bionic eyes of the skulls. Whatever the case, as many as possible threw themselves in a cluster in the weapon's path.

ZZZHHHHOP!

The corridor, bathed in emerald light. Skulls shattered and electronics burst. Thin, spinning sawblades glinted green in the light, before they melted and warped. These machines tried to barricade their master against the height of Eusan civilization's industrial laser technology.

The beam, in turn, penetrated through like a needle through silk. As it did through the far wall behind them. The concentrated light sliding through a seam in the wall panels, until the metal plates bulged and buckled.

"ARGH!" cried a voice through layers of electronics and respirator parts. A heavy body collapsed audibly. Through the new hole, the darkness of the next corridor was alight with sparks.

In the corridor the replikas occupied, the servo skulls that survived, formerly slaved to a guiding Noospheric hand, went errant. Flying into walls, sparking wildly, dropping dead to the ground, or simply floated stationary.

The replikas exhaled, watching their aggressors fall into disarray.

Elster doubled over, panting. She looked up at the ceiling. Pointed. "...Hippolyta," she gasped, into the radio, "...that camera..."

"...huff...right..." Hippolyta nodded, leaning against a wall, her booted hoof pressing down on a servo skull that still twitched. She raised her lasgun and aimed.

ZAP.

When the security camera exploded, Elster turned away from the servo skulls, and pulled her helmet off. She gasped, sucking in bountiful air. Albeit air redolent in smoke, and the stench of blood and oil. "...thank you..." Elster huffed, "...you too...Jenny..."

The Mynah's face shield slid open automatically. She gasped, nodding with her whole body. "No problem," Jenny said, shutting her eyes. "...everyone okay?"

The others nodded, catching their breaths.

Elster stood up straight, raising her face to the ceiling. Eyes clasped shut. "...alright," she said, breathing. "Tend your wounds. We're nearly there."

 

There's rage behind that door. Rage and pain.

Elster removed her helmet and pressed an ear to the heavy vault door. You're sure? she thought, straining her hearing.

I am, thought Circe. If not for that, I wouldn't have sensed them at all. At least one person is in there. They're seething. Anger, pain, bitterness. I'm too far away to get a look at their thoughts. Their will is too strong for that. But they're not hiding their feelings.

Understood, Elster thought. She put her helmet back on. "Someone behind that door is hurt and pissed," the replika commander whispered into the radio. She motioned to the keypad at the door's side. "Petunia, can you crack this?"

The Ara walked forward, crouching down. "I can try..." She fished for tools at her belt.

She was reaching for the keypad, mere inches from her face, when Elster's hand clasped sharply around her wrist.

"Wait!" Elster whispered, sharply. Her heart raced.

Petunia looked up and sideways, peering at her maker through the vision slit in her helmet. "...what?"

Hand shaking, Elster pulled Petuna's arm away. "...I don't..." she muttered, looking down at the keypad. "Something's...not right..."

"How do you know?" Petunia asked.

Elster shook her head. "...not...sure..."

There was this dread, a knot in her stomach. A twinge of mortal terror, whenever she looked at that keypad. A voice in the back of her head that screamed "danger". Elster had no idea why she felt that way. Was it merely paranoia? Or was it...something more?

She motioned for the whole group to clear space. Confused, the rest of the team gave the keypad a wide berth.

Elster walked away from the group, searching. She passed the prone, smoking body of the tech-priest, twice. Eventually, she returned with a broom, found on the ground near a murdered servitor.

She had a confused Dash crouch, shield raised, a meter from the door. Elster stood to her side, positioning as much of her own body behind the edge of the shield as she could. She held the broom just above the bristles, and extended it across the gap.

With a careful motion, she tapped a single key on the pad.

BOOM!

The replikas flinched, shrinking back, as the keypad exploded. Shrapnel firing off in a cone, embedding into the far wall.

"Shit!" Hippolyta said, heart racing. She glanced between the smoking wall panel and the door. "What the hell?"

"They booby trapped their own door?" Dash growled.

Discarding the ruined broom, Elster quickly removed her helmet and moved forward. Pressed her ear again to the door.

A set of heavy footsteps on metal. No, not a single set. Huge feet in ceramite boots shuffled, before growing silent.

The replika commander donned her helmet again, sighing. "There are two Astartes in there," she whispered into the radio. "Or at least two."

"Dammit," Hippolyta groaned, clenching a fist. "We're so close, too!"

"Which is why the remaining marines are sitting by the finish line," Dash muttered. She looked at Elster. "Ma'am, you set the itinerary. What's our play?"

Elster frowned. Looked to Hippolyta. "Any ideas, team leader?"

Hippolyta scowled, hunched over. "...much as I'd like to, we can't open it up and fight them head on," she whispered. "It'll be a kill box."

"We could turn back," Jenny whispered. "Is this 'gene-sperm' so important?"

Elster sighed, folding her arms. "Not especially, unto itself," Elster whispered. "The...bounty is one thing. But other marines could make use of it. If we arrive at the rendezvous point empty-handed, we'll have nothing to bargain with."

"Those guys we're supposed to meet are marines themselves, yeah?" Dash asked, looking over her shoulder. She gestured down the corridor. "What if we strip this place bare? Leave these guys to their vault, and just start looting the place? Bolters, bolter ammo, ceramite plates. Heck, this 'gene-sperm' comes from inside them, right? Maybe we could start cutting bodies open and take those? It won't be as much, but..."

Elster groaned. "Hrmm...I don't like it," she whispered. "It's not what the buyers were promised."

"It'll take forever," Hippolyta said, turned around to keep watch along the other direction. "I don't like the idea of these cock-suckers at our back. What if they come out, while we're elbow deep in gore?"

Petunia blanched, frowning. "...do we...even know what this 'gene-sperm' looks like?" she said, squatting down. She shined a flashlight into the charred hole where the keypad once occupied. Studied its mechanical innards.

"Not...really..." Elster said, shrugging. "Vash..." She chewed her lip, then sighed. The whole Nomarch probably knew Vashtorr's name by now. "...Vashtorr showed me what the samples look like in storage, where to find them, and how to handle them. But I couldn't pick them out of tissues in a corpse. Let alone extract them without risk of damage."

"Are the ones out here even viable anymore?" Petunia asked, eyeing wires and power conduits. "They've been left out in room temperature for hours..."

"Shit," Dash said, shaking her head. "They're probably trash by now."

"And they'll only get less fresh the longer we take to get them out," Hippolyta whispered. She scowled, grinding her teeth. "We don't have time for this. Who knows what else is prowling the ship?"

"Or how long it'll be before another ship comes?" Dash mumbled.

Elster chewed her lip, arms crossed. "Yeah..." she said, tapping her finger against the armor plate on her arm. "Unless we just want to come bearing a dozen or so half-depleted bolters, we need to get inside this vault. That, or withdraw, and write this whole trip off as a loss."

Hippolyta sighed. "...it's your decision."

"Yeah," said Dash, nodding. "I'll follow your lead, ma'am. What's the plan?"

"..."

Elster mulled in silence, weighing costs and benefits. Was the price in souls, and the materials offered by the "buyers", worth the life of even a single one of her children?

No, she thought, immediately. Of course it isn't. At least, I can't risk them walking directly into an ambush. Not against Astartes. Not without knowing exactly what we're dealing with.

She raised her head fractionally. "...is there any way we can get a look inside here?" Elster whispered. "I need to make an informed decision."

"We could try seeing if we can't hunt down the security room," Dash whispered. "See if there's a camera inside, we can scope things out."

"That'll take a while," Hippolyta said, frowning. "We don't know where it is, or how many hostiles will be on the way."

"I don't know if I'll be able to hack their system, if we do," Petunia said. She went silent, thinking.

"There may not even be a camera inside," Jenny whispered. "Or they might have shot it, anticipating we'd think of hijacking security."

"Mmrgh," Elster groaned, bending over.

"...what if we could get a camera in there?" Petunia whispered.

Elster looked over to the Ara. "...how so?"

Petunia looked over and up at Elster.

"...it's not like there's a shortage of them. They're just in the next section over. Dozens of them."

Chapter 41: The Bigger They Are, The Harder They Phall

Where in damnation are they?

Tankred Kurl gritted his teeth.

Even severely wounded, Astartes do not balk at standing vigil, for days uninterrupted if need be. Least of all when injected with stimulants by a skilled Apothecary.

Nonetheless, even patience born of psycho-indoctrination could be sorely tested.

If nothing else, his ravaged body was burning through those stimulants as he stood waiting. Each minute the battle deferred, the more the drug's effects faded.

His ears perked up. The sound of heavy footfalls, behind the vault door.

The intruders's false legionary was changing positions.

Kurl clenched his fists around the long handle of his power axe.

"..."

He looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eye.

The two Astartes stood in the Apothecarian, between two long, parallel rows of medicae beds. Beds large and solid enough to support a legionary in full ceramite armor. The walls flanking each bed were covered in medical equipment, that could be unfolded at a moment's notice to facilitate life-saving surgery. Indeed, multiple beds were occupied by marines that failed to survive. The shortage of menials prevented them from being removed.

A few of them hadn't even survived long enough to get their chest plates off. At least the Apothecary could pierce through them with his tools, to extract the last service the dead bastards could still provide.

Far behind them, in the back of the room, was the heavy door of the company's gene-bank. Storage room for the company's genetic legacy, and source for creation of new Astartes. The door was ajar - the result of a damnable malfunction arising during the course of the earlier boarding action. It could not be closed until control of the Serpens Ferreus was regained, and menials could be assigned to repairs.

Until then, the two marines would simply need to stand guard. The storage room's internal mechanisms worked overtime to keep its contents cold, in turn chilling the whole Apothecarian.

The Apothecary eyed the Captain quietly from behind his helmet lenses. Dulcat's armor was painted pure white, spattered by many layers of crimson that slowly settled into ruddy brown. Steel trim framed the white, and the left shoulder pad and left leg painted the customary yellow and black hazard stripes.

Dulcat's left gauntlet was installed with a Narthecium. An all-in-one instrument for battlefield surgery, cauterization, injection, gene-seed extraction, and, when necessary, euthenasia (in the form of a spring-loaded spike) of hopelessly wounded warriors.

The Apothecary's right hand brandished a bolt pistol, aimed squarely at the vault doors.

"..."

Klunk.

The two Astartes flinched, muscles tensing. Their heads turned slowly, seeking the noise.

Klunk. Shhfff. Klunk.

They both turned sideways.

The walls! Kurl thought, seething.

A shuffling and 'klunk'ing ran up and across the wall. The noise came from behind the surface, muffled by layers of steel.

Probing the air vents? Kurl thought. He sneered.

No matter how advanced a craft, the need for air circulation created an unsolvable reliance on the humble air vent. Favorably, these vents were kept too small to allow any but the runtiest ratling to traverse.

But there was one thing the vents were frequently made to transport, besides air.

Klunk. Klunk. Shhff. Klunk.

The grill set high on the wall burst open. A servo skull emerged from it.

Standing still, the two Astartes eyed the errant machine.

It, in turn, eyed them through augmetics set in its empty sockets.

Dulcat permitted the moment to stretch for three, four, five seconds. He pointed his boltpistol.

BAM.

Bone, metal, and wiring flew everywhere, the machine exploded by a bolter round.

The Apothecary pointed his smoking weapon back at the door. "...the tech priest is dead," he whispered, simply. "His toys serve them now."

"Nngh!" Kurl growled, turning away. He stomped forward, and banged the back end of his power axe against the thick metal door. "Come and face us, you cowards!" he barked.

"..."

A great shuffling behind the door. The stomping of great hooves.

"...okay. One second."

Narrow his eyes, Kurl nodded to Dulcat. He slowly stepped away from the door.

The sound of muffled sparks. Then, the tumblers in the vault door began to turn.

Halfway through the opening sequence, the banging in the walls started again. First one object, then two. Then, more.

"Ignore them," Kurl whispered, low and slow. "Distractions."

Hsss.

Tumblers fully disengaged, the door slowly opened. One inch. Two inches. Three...

Shunk.

Kurl's advanced reflexes reacted to the metal object as it arced through the air. Sidestepped, watching from the corner of his eye as the krak grenade sailed past. Heard it snap magnetically to one of the medical beds, beeping.

The air vent behind them snapped open, disgorging servo skulls. Spinning saws squealed to life. First one, then two.

The door widened. Another metal object entered through the gap. It didn't arc this time, merely tossed inside to bounce and roll on the ground. Far short of the marines.

A servo skull rocketed forward, diving towards the Captain. Kurl's honed instincts caused him to duck his head at the last moment. The buzzsaw machine sailed over harmlessly. He removed one hand from the power axe and pulled out his own bolt pistol.

BAM!

The servo skull exploded, parts scattering to ricochet off the front wall.

Dulcat, for his part, didn't even flinch as the next servo skull pinged, blade first, off his helmet. Sparks flew as the spinning blade dulled against ceramite. It bounced away. Before diving back again.

The krak grenade stuck to the medicae bed beeped. Its rate increasing gradually.

BANG.

Kurl looked back to the door just in time for the flash grenade to explode. His remaining eye shut, filled with light. His bionic eye automatically compensated for the flash, normalizing. His ears weren't so lucky. He didn't flinch at the deafening bang. He was an Astartes, well accustomed to extremely loud noises. He wasn't disoriented by the sound. But he WAS still deafened.

Looking through augmetic eye, his arm shot up in response to two figures rushing through the widening door. Took aim.

BOOM! BAM!

Unheard, the krak grenade exploded behind him. A chunk of metal, broken off by the shaped charge, flew off. Kurl felt it scrape the back of his head, with enough force to jerk it forward. His aim was wide.

"Ah!" Dash cried, as the bolt round, off its mark, nonetheless shaved the top part of her mangled shield clean off. She ducked, continuing to run to the left (from her perspective). The amputated lump of plasteel tumbling over her head.

One second behind her, running the opposite direction, Hippolyta aimed her lasgun.

ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Dulcat raised his left hand in front of his neck, to protect the less armored sections there. Scarlet light impacted his ceramite plating, heating it. He made no move to dodge or seek cover. He calmly leveled his bolt pistol.

His eyes and ears protected by his helmet, which automatically compensated for the flash grenade, Dulcat was not blind.

BAM!

"Argh!" the Storch cried, eyes clasping shut as her left shoulder exploded. Neither armor plates nor titanium bones offered protection, as the burst send her sprawling. Chunks of metal, wire, and synthetic muscle fibers torn and flapping in the chill air. She tumbled to the ground, rolling.

"Hip!" Dash yelled, her voice muffled through the helmet. She dove behind the foremost medical bed.

BAM!

Built solidly into the floor, so as to support the weight of a fully armored transhuman, the medical bed weathered the Apothecary's next shot. At least, as a chunk was blasted from the bed's frame, the structure as a whole stayed intact.

It would serve as cover. For the moment.

"Hip, get to cover!" Elster barked over the radio, leaning around the doorframe.

ZAP ZAP ZAP. ZAP.

Kurl lifted his arms, allowing the cascade of las bolts to shower him. Threw the oversized blade of his power axe in front of his face. Thumbing the switch on the hilt, the blade hummed to life. Sparking and casting their surroundings in a blue glow. Las bolts that struck the blade dissipated harmlessly, not even blackening the metal.

The Captain felt blood ooze down the back of his head, from where the shrapnel struck him. The bleeding would cease momentarily, as his Astartes blood coagulated and his torn skin knit itself together in minutes. The wound would scar, but it was beneath even his contempt.

Behind his mask, he permitted himself a smile.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Elster retreated behind the frame of the still opening door, as bolt rounds detonated against it. Denting the metal enough she could feel the deformation through her armored back. Craters were left in the frame.

The Captain holstered his smoking bolt pistol. "Dulcat," he called, "kill these here." He hefted his power axe, then dove toward the widening door. His axe casting a sapphire glow across the floor and walls.

"No!" Dash cried, slipping her useless shield off. She chucked it as hard as she could against the Astartes.

Kurl grinned behind his mask, the wrecked sheet of plasteel bouncing harmlessly off his pauldron. "Face me, cowards!" he bellowed.

Even were his ears not ringing, deafened by the flashbang, his boisterous voice would have drowned out the sound of a charging mining laser.

His eye went wide as the door finally slid open enough to reveal the power-armored replika. With his momentum, it took all Kurl's control just to halt. Jenny pulled the trigger.

ZZZZHHHOP!

Kurl threw his power axe up over his face. The doorway was bathed in emerald, competing with the sapphire, as the beam plowed into his stomach. He'd never personally witnessed what happened if a weapon in the same ballpark as a lascannon went directly against space marine power armor, at point blank range. He'd seen its effects on Isstvan V, certainly, but not this close.

Dulcat flinched. As an Apothecary, he WAS familiar with what a lascannon could do against Astartes, even through power armor. "Captain!"

Kurl sank to his knees, his stomach billowing smoke. The smoke smelled of burnt meat.

He gagged. Felt not merely the excruciating pain in his stomach - or what remained of it - but also the renewed sting in his chest. His sucking wound opened again. Through the burned and blackened hole in his armor, scarlet oozed out. Running in rivulets across steel panels and into recesses, on its way to dribble on the floor.

Kurl wrenched the mask from his face, as he coughed up copious scarlet.

The replikas, staring stunned, looked wide-eyed as he lowered his power axe. His one eye, blinking away the flash from earlier, stared at the Mynah with seething contempt.

He rose to his feet.

Dulcat aimed his bolt pistol again.

BAM!

"Ah!" Hippolyta cried, pulling shaky legs away from the crater blown into the metal floor. She dragged herself, one-handed, into the relative safety of cover behind a medical bed. "Son of a bitch!" she yelled, dropping her lasgun to clutch at the ruin of her shoulder. Felt wires and black muscle fibers between her fingers.

"No!" Dash cried, looking between Hippolyta and the rising Kurl. She clutched her lasgun, then peeked over top of the bed.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

The Apothecary, feeling the roar of the las bolts against his armor, redirected his aim. Saw the Star duck, as he pulled the trigger.

BAM!

Another chunk blew off of the medical bed, a foot wide. Metal deforming under the explosive force.

Behind his back, Dulcat barely heard the rush of a flying machine. He almost didn't notice, for there was no spinning sawblade.

BAM!

Something impacted the Apothecary's pistol arm. His aim thrown off, the bolt round exploded high over the Storch's head against the far wall.

"Ngh!" Dulcat grunted, raising his Narthecium. He jammed to the side, a mental impulse fed to the machine. A metal spike thrust out, just as he met the servo skull, piercing it between the eye sockets. The bone cracked as the spike went in. Another impulse, and it retracted. The servo skull fell limp to the ground, internal mechanisms sparking.

Kurl crossed the threshold, blood dripping on the ground. His axe sparking. He panted and heaved, a bloody grimace on his face.

Elster pulled a krak grenade from her belt and backed up. She threw it at the marine.

The Captain, seeing this out of the corner of his eye, ducked. The grenade adhered magnetically to the vault door. He charged, raising his axe.

Jenny, panicking, threw the mining laser up sideways in front of her. She retreated a step.

The blade cleaved down through the solid construction of steel like it was paper. Sparks flew, the meal glowed bright red. The mining laser came apart in two pieces in Jenny's hands.

"Oh!" Jenny cried, retreating another step. She looked down at the ruined testament to Eusan's ingenuity. Then, back to the advancing marine.

Kurl grinned, his teeth bloody. He readied for another strike.

As Jenny threw one of the remaining chunks of her weapon up to be sliced again by the axe, Petunia crawled under the vault door. Keeping low, she discarded the hand-held screen and took up her lasgun.

ZAP ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

Dulcat, thumbing a button on his bolt pistol to pop out the spent magazine, threw his left arm in front of his face. A hail of las bolts that cast his white armor scarlet for a moment with each impact.

He hadn't noticed the beeping, very close by.

Petunia dived behind the same bed as Hippolyta, pressing her back against its metal surface. "K-keep him off balance!" she said on the radio. She checked her ammo.

Dash nodded, and peeked over cover.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Hippolyta, gritting her teeth, pulled out a looted laspistol. She peeked up as well, aiming.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

Dulcat threw both arms up, to weather the onslaught of las bolts. He turned, presenting his right pauldron as his left hand fished for another magazine.

It was only as he lifted the mag to his bolt pistol that he finally noticed the beeping. A beeping gradually quickening.

His eye lenses shot to his upraised right arm. Saw the krak grenade adhered by treacherous magnetism to his elbow.

The servo skull! he thought, unseen eyes going wide. There's no time!

He threw his arm out to the side, away from him.

BOOM!

"ARGH!" Dulcat groaned, clenching his teeth. The vibrations from the explosion rocked up his upper arm. He felt chunks of ceramite, metal, meat, and bone ping off his helmet. The alabaster surface stained scarlet.

He did not need to see. Just feeling the absence of all sensation but pain at just above the elbow told him all he needed to know. He grunted, doubled over, forcing down the agony. His destroyed gun arm spat scarlet with each beat of his twin hearts, flying off to pool on the ground.

"Dulcat!" Kurl grunted, chancing a glance over his shoulder.

BOOM!

The krak grenade affixed to the vault door exploded, blasting a hole through the door. The marine flinched, ducking his head forward.

Jenny used the distraction to swing the remaining intact part of the mining laser at the marine's face.

"Urgh!" Kurl grunted, blocking the impact with his arm. He took a step back.

ZAP ZAP. ZAP.

"NGH!" Kurl groaned, as scarlet las bolts fired into his already aggrieved stomach. He glanced at Elster, eye full of hate.

Crack!

Jenny punched Kurl in the face, his bionic eye pulverized beneath the power armored fist. Glass shards pulled away with her knuckles.

The Captain staggered back two paces. He threw his power axe up to protect his face.

Once again, he left his core exposed. Jenny raised a hoof and kicked, as hard as cybernetic legs designed to bear her weight could.

"Ngh!" Kurl grunted, sent reeling. Blood flew from his mouth. His feet tripped over the lip of the vault door. The Captain, digging deep into his training, rolled with his fall. He half rolled, half stumbled back into the room, until he found his footing again.

He came to a stop in the middle, bent over. He coughed up blood, his cauterized insides breaking open into new wounds with the kick and the twisting of his body. The Captain felt stabbing pain. Felt his solidified ribcage crack another inch. Another two inches.

Kurl rose with difficulty, his armor automatically injecting combat drugs to counteract the pain. He retreated a few more steps, then looked back at the door.

BAM!

"Ngh!" A bolt round slammed into his chestplate. The ceramite absorbed the detonation, forming a crater over where his missing heart would be. He narrowed his eye, as he felt more pressure on his aching chest.

"Yeah, get him, big girl!" Hippolyta yelled, thrusting her remaining hand in the air.

Jenny crossed the threshold into the room, her looted bolter smoking. Just behind her, Elster slipped into the room quietly.

The Mynah squeezed the trigger again.

BAM!

Another impact, this time on Kurl's right arm. Thankfully for him, deformed the ceramite plate, rather than hitting the more vulnerable seam between plates. If it had hit lower, it would have taken his arm clean off.

Speaking of, Dulcat tore his eyes away from the firefight. With an impulse, a needle extended on his Narthecium. He jammed it into the still dripping stump of his arm. Injected fluid induced rapid coagulation. The Apothecary panted, his remaining hand dropping to his side. The bleeding slowed to a trickle, then stopped, within seconds. He gritted his teeth.

BAM!

Kurl, anticipating the next shot, interposed the glowing blade between himself and the bolt round. It disintegrated on the energy field, the molecular bonds coming undone in an instant.

Hippolyta pointed to the Apothecary. "Grenades! Now!" she shouted, before rising to full height, point her laspistol.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

Dash and Petunia, nodding, slipped from cover, advancing with lasguns leveled.

ZAP. ZAP ZAP. ZAP. ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Both Astartes charged, as their bodies were showered by las fire and bolter bursts.

 

Jenny sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a downward swing. She twisted as fast as she could, squeezing the trigger at point blank range.

BAM!

A deformation of the Captain's right pauldron. He pulled his bolt pistol out and aimed.

Elster, in cover behind a medical bed, leaped on top of it and unpinned a krak grenade. She tossed it towards the marine.

Kurl, eye snapping up, ducked. He squeezed the trigger.

Click.

"Dammit!" Kurl grunted. He ducked.

BAM!

A bolt round from Jenny's weapon sailed over his head. He threw the bolt pistol at Elster full force, knocking her off her hooves. Then, he swung the power axe with one hand.

Jenny took two steps back, the bolter cleaved in half. She discarded it, then charged. "Ngh!" she grunted, shoulder-checking the Astartes.

Kurl grunted, staggering back.

 

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

The marine in white armor, weathering a storm of las bolts, lifted his leg.

"Argh!" Dash grunted, kicked in the chest by the Apothecary's boot. She flew back, rolling.

Dulcat ducked under a thrown krak grenade. Petunia, watching her projectile sail harmlessly over, frantically raised her lasgun again. Her hands trembled.

The Apothecary gut-punched with his Narthecium, sending a mental impulse to the device.

"Ah!" Petunia gasped, feeling the spike penetrate through void plate with a sickening screetch of metal on metal. Felt a sharp sting, as it pierced her oxident organ.

As the marine pulled back, retracting the spike, the Ara staggering. The lasgun fell from her hands as she clutched her stomach. "...f-fuck!" she gasped, eyes wide, teeth clenched. Trying desperately to keep the oxident inside as it cascaded between her fingers.

"No!" Hippolyta barked, leaping over the bed and charging.

ZAP. ZAP.

Dulcat shrank down, blocking the las bolts. As the enraged Storch charged, firing wildly, he back-handed her.

"Ah!" Hippolyta cried, rolling on the ground. She felt a titanium rib break. "Ffffuck!" she grunted, losing grip on her laspistol.

ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Dash, staggering to her hooves, fired uselessly at the giant's back.

The Apothecary ignored her, opting instead to kick Petunia, bleeding and shivering, to the ground. Then, he stomped over to Hippolyta. Kicked the Storch onto her back.

"Ssshhhhit!" Hippolyta grunted, as the marine stepped on her chest.

 

"Shit!" Jenny stumbled back, evading another swipe of the power axe by a hair's breadth. She ripped a piece of medical equipment off the wall and brought it down at the marine's head.

Kurl, smiling, knocked the machine aside with his axe, then kicked the Mynah.

"Oof!" Jenny cried, crashing to the floor. The room shook with her impact.

Kurl, stomping over, planted a foot on her armored chest. "...useless worm," he growled. "Whatever you are, you're no Astartes." He raised his axe over his head. "Death to pretenders!"

"No!" Elster yelled, leaping off the medical bed and landing on his back. She wrapped her arm under his chin, brandishing a knife. She made to stab at his remaining eye.

"Ngh!" Kurl grunted, gauntleted hand leaving the axe handle. He seized the replika's wrist, as the tip of the blade was an inch from his cornea.

"Argh!" Elster groaned, as the huge hand squeezed her forearm. Had her wrist been of mere bone, rather than titanium, it might have snapped then and there.

Kurl effortlessly pulled her arm away, then turned to face her. "Not. Good. Enough." He spat in her face.

It was a scant few seconds before she heard the hissing right in front of her. "Ah!" she exclaimed, dropping. The marine chuckled, letting her go.

She scrambled across the floor, clawing at her head. She saw the glasteel lenses fog and sizzle before her eyes.

THEY HAVE ACID SPIT!? she thought, heart racing. She fumbled for the release mechanisms.

"Hah hah hah!" Kurl chuckled, eyeing the replika commander bitterly. "False ruler though he be, the Emperor of Mankind's handiwork is astounding. Is it not?" He looked to Dulcat. "Everything in hand?"

"Hrmm," the Apothecary grunted, looking down at the ground. "I don't appreciate the irony," he said.

He shifted his weight down on the replika beneath his foot in increments.

"Ngh!" Hippolyta groaned, fist slamming repeatedly against the marine's boot. Teeth clenched, a rising panic as she felt herself gradually being crushed. Her ribs straining against the immense weight.

Dulcat tilted his head to the side, watching the woman from behind his helmet. He knew exactly how much pressure a baseline human ribcage could withstand, before it collapsed. It should have already occurred. "...curious..."

Hippolyta grinned behind her mask. "...ngh...what was...that?" she breathed, fingers clenched over the boot. "...can you...come closer? I didn't...nnn...catch that..."

The Apothecary obliged, leaning fractionally on the replika's chest. Watched her renewed, frantic squirming. Heard something pop inside her chest. He eyed her destroyed shoulder. Wires and synthetic muscle fibers. "...a full body cyborg?" he mused.

"Get off her!"

Dash leaped onto the Apothecary's back.

His stooped position made it easy. Dulcat realized too late that was the Storch's intention all along. "No!" he rose to standing, taking his foot off Hippolyta.

"Hah!" Hippolyta gasped, clutching her chest. Rolled onto her side. "Ngh!"

Dash grasped his helmet with her left hand, holding it in place. With her right, she emulated her mother. A curved, talon knife raised high.

In much the same way, Dulcat made to emulate his Captain. His reflexes were such, he made to seize her wrist with his right hand.

He remembered too late he was disarmed.

Phantom limb grasped uselessly at the replika. "N-No!" he cried. Eyes went wide.

Crunch.

The curved point slid almost effortlessly through the glasteel lens of his left eye. All vision in that organ ceased at once, as the marine's face was wracked by pain.

Dulcat gasped. Both hearts skipped a beat.

"Rrragh!" Dash exclaimed, wrenching sideways.

The Apothecary felt the curved, black talon blade slice through the ceramite of his helmet, and through the transhumanly hard bone of his skull, like a hot knife through butter. Saw the datafeed from his helmet glitch out, before his remaining eye was sliced open.

Blood gushed from the Apothecary's face, as Dash sliced the alien-claw blade out the side of the giant's helmet with the same motion.

"ARGH!" the Astartes screamed, clutching at his face with his remaining hand.

Dash smiled, pulling something else from her belt. As the Astartes staggered around blindly, she leaped from his back.

Petunia, crawling over, placed an oxident-stained hand on Hippolyta's shoulder. She gasped. "...heh...huff...are you...okay?" she breathed.

"I...ngh...should be asking...huff...you that," the Storch grunted. She smiled. "Hnh!" Hippolyta said, sitting up. She watched the wounded marine. "If anyone asks," she called to him, "tell them her name was 'Nobody'!"

"Ngh! What?" Dulcat grunted, flailing his arm around.

"He won't have the chance," Dash said, putting distance between her and the blind marine.

Dulcat froze. The beeping, starting slow, grew louder and faster. He whipped his head back and forth, unable to see or hear where the noise came from. It always seemed impossibly close, yet always in the same place, no matter how he moved his...

Oh, the Apothecary thought. His hand reached back and felt the krak grenade jammed between the back of his helmet and the base of his neck. Pinched between helmet and the back of his armored collar.

As the beeping reached a fever pitch, Dulcat turned to the front of the room. Finding it only by a space marine's strong internal sense of direction.

Kurl, head rising from where he eyed Jenny with murder in his eye, heard the beeping too. He looked to the Apothecary. "Dulcat?"

"Captain," Dulcat said, holding out his hand.

BOOM!

In an explosion of fire and gore, the Apothecary's head was instantly decapitated from his body. What remained of his neck stump shot blood and belched smoke. Any inch of white armor remaining was painted red by the impromptu blood fountain. His body sank to his knees, then collapsed to the floor. The floor shook with the impact.

Tankred Kurl stared in shock. Then, scowled. Clenched his bloody teeth. "You...you..."

"...sorry, what happened?" Jenny asked, large hands clutching the Captain's boot. "The bed is in the way."

Kurl turned back to her, raising his power axe. "I will kill every last one of you!" he screamed, preparing to execute the Mynah.

"Tankred Kurl!"

The Captain froze. He looked over his shoulder. "...that voice..."

A hand fingered a holstered pistol. Dissolving helmet clattered to the ground, fizzing.

"...you...YOU!" Kurl said, clenching his fist.

Elster glared at the Captain.

"Yes. Me."

Chapter 42: Pride Goeth Before the Phall

"I knew it. I knew it!"

Kurl seethed, stepping off of Jenny. With a mental impulse, his suit dumped an entire complement of combat drugs into his taxed bloodstream.

He advanced on Elster, huffing. "I knew you were trouble," he growled through clenched teeth. "Goria vouched for you. I vouched for you. Put my reputation on the line!"

Elster ducked, running between the double row of beds. The power axe sailed over her head, crackling with lethal energy. Bathing her in sapphire light.

"Elster!" Petunia gasped, holding a scarlet hand out. She tried to rise, but Hippolyta held her back. "Let me go!" she groaned, wincing in pain.

"Stay down!" Hippolyta said, sole arm around the Ara's waist. "She can handle herself!"

The Iron Warriors Captain grimaced, turning to follow. His pale face stained red by blood, blue by the glow of his axe. "And for what?" he barked, swinging wildly in the air for dramatic effect. "My ship destroyed! My crew slaughtered! You, here, a carrion beast! Come to take our gene-seed!" He lunged.

Elster gritted her teeth, heart almost leaping from her chest as she ducked up another swing. A snippet of black hair tumbled in front of her eyes as she backed up.

Curiously, all she could think was, Right! It's called 'gene-seed'! Now I remember!

"And where is Goria?" Kurl grunted, stomping forward. A bulging vein visible on his forehead. "Gone, before the battle even started! Did he collude with you? Did you two plan all this!?"

"Dah!" Elster yelped, side-stepping and ducking a back-handed attack. She retreated, pulling her laspistol.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

Kurl raised his power axe, intercepting the las bolts.

"Need help, ma'am?" Dash said, peeking from cover and pointing a lasgun.

"Maybe," Elster said, laspistol smoking. "Stand by." She studied the Captain carefully, walking backwards. Circe, are they ready?

They are, Circe thought. It took a while, but Isis and Shahrazad gathered as many as they could.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

Send them in, Elster thought, lowering her weapon. She fingered the sheath at her belt with her other hand. "I didn't collude with your priest, Kurl."

"Liar!" Kurl barked, dropping an overhead strike. As the replika sidestepped, the axe scored a cut in the metal floor.

ZAP.

"Ngh!" Kurl grunted, the las bolt finding a gap in the joint of his leg. He felt the heat of his flesh cooking. He gritted his teeth, and limped on.

"I didn't plan anything with Goria," Elster said, firing (ZAP), striking his shoulder. "I didn't summon the vortex." She ducked another swing, scrambling away. "And I sure as shit didn't put you in a battle with the Imperial fucking Fists." ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. "YOU did that, Kurl! YOU lost that fight!"

"Shut up, worm!" Kurl shouted, charging and pulling back for a huge swing.

For a brief moment, he didn't see the replika in front of him. For the space of a heartbeat, he didn't hear the sound of her booted hooves on the floor, the dripping of his own blood, or the roar of the machines keeping the gene-bank cool.

He saw men and women, broken, cut, maimed. Draped in the tatters of their mortal hopes and dreams. From beneath these shrouds peeked skulls, bleached and cracked. In their sockets were the fires of pain and hate. Pain and hate far greater than even his hearts could hold.

And they howled. The howled like hell.

"Ngh!" Kurl grunted, eye going wide. He stumbled, hesitating. Taxed heart straining. He followed through on his swing, but it was delayed. Such was the magnitude of his shock. "What?" he gasped, the swing sailing harmlessly over Elster's head.

The replika commander, by contrast, didn't hesitate. She closed in, planting her hoof on the axe as it embedded into the floor. She slipped the alien-talon knife from her belt and hooked it on the inside of Kurl's right elbow.

It sliced through metal, ceramite, muscle, and bone with ease. The elbow came away clean, before gushing scarlet.

"Ah!" Kurl gasped, staring down in horror at his arm, so easily severed. "...h-how?" He glared, then pulled the axe from the floor with his remaining hand.

Elster stumbled back, trying to regain her hoofing.

Kurl raised the axe one-handed. Trying for another killing stroke.

Again, he saw the shades. Floating before his face, chattering their teeth. Howling. Howling. Shrieking and growling and spitting invectives.

The shades of Phall - the psykers subjected to excruciation, left for dead, weaponized - cursed Kurl. Cursed his name, his bloodline, his entire Legion.

"Agh!" Kurl cried, his strike deferred again as he processed the vision. His strike went hopelessly wide, cleaving the bare floor again. Vision swimming, going briefly lightheaded.

Elster, stepping on the handle for a second time, severed the marine's hand at the wrist. Her alien blade making mockery of the Emperor's engineering and genecraft both.

"N-ngh!" Kurl grunted, staggering back. Eyed his weeping wrist. His already pale skin went somehow paler, colder. Then, he glared at Elster. He reared his head back, then spat.

Elster, no longer taken by surprise, sidestepped this expectoration with ease. Acidic spit splattered on the cold floor. Hissed, dissolved sterile metal.

"Rragh!" Kurl screamed, back-handing Elster in the chest with his left arm. It couldn't grasp, but it could still bludgeon.

"Ah!" Elster cried, falling over. She clutched her chest, wincing. Then, looked up.

"How is this possible?" Kurl wheezed, stomping over. "How have you done this?" He kicked.

"Nagh!" Elster grunted, as she tumbled a meter off the ground and rolled across the floor. "Ah!"

"Elster!" Petunia screamed, trying in vain to rise.

"No! Stay down!" Hippolyta said, clapping a hand on the Ara's shoulder. The Storch made to rise herself, before she stopped, looking sideways. "Eh?"

"I'm an Astartes!" Kurl barked, scowling. Panting. Wincing at the pain in his chest. He powered through it, from simple rage. "A Captain of the Iron Warriors! A Space Marine!" He kicked again.

"Ah!" Elster scrambled back, evading the boot. She crab-walked backwards, keeping her eyes on the marine.

"Elster!" Dash called, standing up. She was about to engage, when a hand stopped her. She frowned, looking at it. "...you're sure?"

"We conquered the galaxy! We're better than any human filth could hope to be!" Kurl was shouting now. Bellowing to hear himself over the howl of the dead. Screaming to hear himself over his tortured heart. "You're not even human! You're a THING!"

He overtook the retreating replika and stepped on her chest.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, one hand trying desperately to hold the weight back. The other rose and cut through the armored leg. Blood sprayed out. Unfortunately, the alien talon was only so long, and the armored leg was thick around.

The Captain grimaced, suppressing the pain. "So how?" he shouted, over the roar beyond the grave. "Are you a witch!?" He gasped, panting. "How can...hah...cultist rabble like you...huff...from a backwater world, on a mongrel ship...with...hah...stolen armor, do any of this!? How!?"

Elster, pinned beneath the screeching Astartes, simply smiled. "...I'm not a witch," she said, wincing. "I just have witch kids. Who have made a bunch of witch friends."

Kurl raised an eyebrow, scowling. He tilted his head, brow furrowed. Heaving breaths.

"...you can't even hear me, can you?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow. She smiled painfully. "That's f-fine. You won't hear her, either."

Kurl, indeed, did not hear the stomping feet approaching from behind. Nor the sound of her picking up his discarded weapon.

He only realized what was happening when he saw the shadow he cast over Elster framed by a brilliant blue glow.

"No!" Kurl cried, eye widened. "Ngh!" A heart attack wracked his chest. Slowed his gene-hanced reaction speed, gagging him. He couldn't breathe.

He was half turned, boot lifting off Elster, when the power axe swiped horizontally through his midsection.

The howling abruptly ceased.

"..." He gaped, breathless, in the sudden, all-consuming silence. His head turned to regard the Mynah.

Jenny raised her visor. Her face, framed by cushions, was bathed in the cool blue glow of the power axe. She furrowed her brow. "That's my mother you're talking to," she said.

With one oversized hand, she pushed him gently to the side. He toppled like a broken domino. The Captain stared into space, as his upper half separated from his lower. Both halves crashed to the ground, spilling copious quantities of blood and viscera on the metal floor.

"Mom!" Petunia cried, slowly rising to her hooves. She clutched her stomach, her face pale.

"Patch yourself up, you idiot!" Hippolyta barked, grasping the Ara's wrist before she could run off. "Get your foam spray!"

Dash, walking into the path between rows of beds, sighed. She smiled.

Jenny, deactivated power weapon at her side, reached down her other hand. "Up you go," she said, taking Elster's hand.

"Ugh," Elster grunted, allowing herself to be pulled up. She smiled, sheathing her alien knife. "Thanks, Jenny."

She walked over to the marine.

"I considered taking his head," Jenny said, rubbing her helmet, "but figured you would want to do the honors. For your 'count'."

Elster nodded. Stooped.

Kurl clenched his teeth. His traitorous heart practically exploding in his chest. "...y-you..." He made to spit again.

Before he could, Elster pulled out the respirator mask she picked up earlier, where he discarded it, and clapped it over his mouth. She could hear the metal fizz and dissolve inside.

"Now, now, no more of that," Elster said, neutrally. She inclined her head up, so she could properly look down on him. "As I was saying earlier, my kids know a lot of witches. I believe you've just met some of them. I hope they said everything they wanted to."

"Mrrr..." Kurl seethed, his mask turning into soup on his face.

"Anyway, about that prophecy." The replika commander narrowed her eyes. "No idea what that was about. That's just a line Tzeentch told me, to get your people to listen." She pulled her talon-knife out again, holding it where the marine could see.

Kurl's eye widened. He trembled. Gripped by another agonizing heart attack. If she didn't kill him, he might perish on the spot.

"But I do know this. While the Iron Son of Olympus might be destined to best the Fists three times and ascend," Elster said, pointing with the knife, "you certainly won't."

She held the struggling Captain's head down, as she curved the talon around his throat. Until the tip tickled the back of his neck.

Elster smiled. "Good day, Captain Kurl," she said. "I hope you enjoyed the war."

Tankred Kurl, Captain of the Iron Warriors 135th Company, screamed into his melting mask. Screamed as his head was divorced from his body, as his life was divorced from his ghost. Screamed in rage, hate, and fear.

Because word of Space Marine fearlessness was greatly exaggerated.

 

"We've got the last load secured. Heading to the airlock now."

"Acknowledged," said Sally, over the radio. "I've got the other containers secured."

Elster helped Petunia to her feet, patting the Ara's stomach. A glob of solidified expanding foam stuck out the impromptu belly button.

"Easy now," Elster said, hands tucked under the Ara's arms. "No need to rush."

Petunia nodded. Her face was pale under unkempt, magenta hair. She grabbed the helmet from the medical bed and held it up. She had difficulty putting it on herself.

"Hold on, let me help you." Hippolyta walked over, holstering her laspistol to hold the Ara up by the armpit.

"You don't need to..." Petunia breathed, looking at the Storch's ravaged, foam-covered shoulder. Looked down at the severed arm, tied to Hippolyta's belt.

"Yeah, yeah," Hippolyta said, shaking her head. "Just put the thing on. We can't fully trust that airlock."

Between the two replikas steadying her, Petunia could use both hands to pop the helmet back on her head. Heard the hiss of the seal forming. The suit would almost certainly leak, since the foam that slowed her internal bleeding also stopped the suit's miraculous self-sealing material from knitting together. Hopefully, the leak would be small enough to keep her oxygenated, in case of depressurization. At least for as long as it took to space-walk to the shuttle.

"I'll carry her," Jenny said, stomping over. She stooped, holding out a hand.

"Are you sure?" Petunia said, looking at the multiple insulated storage containers strapped to the Mynah's belt and back. "It's not too heavy, is it?"

"This is nothing," Jenny said, smiling from behind her open visor. "Come on."

"She's right," Elster said, nodding. "We need to go. Another ship might arrive any time now."

"They'd radio us if there were anyone coming," Petunia breathed, allowing herself to be walked forward. "We can see such things from hours away." She sat down on the Mynah's waiting arm, the large hand cupping her legs. Squeaked as Jenny stood up, the Ara throwing an arm around the back of the power armor's bulbous helmet.

"Still, we need to get you medical attention," Elster said, walking past to grab another container by the handle. "AND get all this gene-seed cooled."

Dash stood at the door, lasgun drawn, checking each direction. "Come on!" she said over the radio. "The serfs are still hanging around! We should go, before they decide to do something stupid!"

Sure enough, when the replikas, heavily laden with biological plunder, exited the medicae room, they caught sight of rag-covered menials assembled in a small group down the hall. Since Dash hadn't been firing, they were previously content to watch nervously. With the entire team exiting, though, the frightened serfs ran away.

Petunia looked over Jenny's shoulder, watching the menials flee. "...are they going to be okay?"

"Who knows?" Dash took up a rear guard, watching the corridor as they traveled. "If they wanted us to take them with, they could have asked." The Star shook her head. "As it stands, I don't think they trust us nearly enough for that."

"Either the Iron Warriors or the Imperial Fists will retrieve them," Elster said, taking a position just in front of Jenny, "when they come to loot the Serpens. Depending on which can break away from the fighting, of course." She carried a container in one hand, brandishing a laspistol in the other. She and Hippolyta took point.

"Look alive, people," Hippolyta said, wincing at the pain in her chest, "there's no telling what could still be breathing, besides slaves."

 

"...ngh..."

The tech adept stirred, groaning softly. His metal hand clawed the grated floor. By his side, the ruined remains of his staff littered the floor.

Diagnostics looked as grim as it was glitchy. Several vital systems - and organs - burned out, sheered away along with his entire left arm. Cauterization alone prevented him dying of blood loss. One lung was half destroyed, limp like a burst and burned balloon.

He tried unsuccessfully to rise, groaning in pain and frustration. No matter how he called, the Noosphere wouldn't connect him to the servo skulls, or to servitors. He called out to the Captain, but received no answer. Even with his two intact photo-receptors, he felt blind. Blind and small.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The tech adept froze. At first, his delirious mind barely registered it. But now he was sure. He heard the footsteps approaching. Including a set of heavy, power-armored legs.

Was it his masters, come to punish him for his indolence? Or was it...?

He twisted his neck, to look down the corridor. At the far end, beyond the t-junction, was the bulkhead leading to the airlock. At the t-junction itself, another bulkhead door lay open.

The footsteps grew closer.

Slowly, quietly, the tech adept fished to his belt and unholstered his prized possession. Gifted to him by his master after decades in the Omnissiah's service. He set his arm down in front of him, clutching the weapon, and waited.

Once he saw the gray void armor and pillaged las weapons cross the threshold into view, he knew what he had to do.

The Captain would kill him, if he permitted the intruders to escape. And all those servo skulls - the remains of loyal servants of the True Mechanicum - needed to be avenged.

In his delirium, he did not question whether the large, temperature-sealed containers they carried meant the Captain and Apothecary were already dead. The possibility, already remote by any logical measure, simply did not enter his mind.

All the good sense he had was bent to knowing that it was best to defer firing, until the right moment.

So, with metal finger on the trigger, he watched and waited.

Playing dead was easy, when one was halfway there already.

 

"Jenny, you and Hip take Pet onto the shuttle."

Hippolyta looked over her shoulder. "You sure?"

Elster nodded, standing against the wall. She allowed the Mynah to pass. "Dash and I can guard the..."

Her heart stopped. A spike of dread shot through her. Not paltry nor nonspecific. Acute and concentrated. Sourced, targeted, and localized to the corridor itself.

Elster's head snapped sideways.

The Star stood several paces down the corridor, guarding their rear. She took one last look around the t-junction, then half-turned towards the exit.

"...Dash!" Elster cried, heart racing.

"Hmm?" Dash said, head turned towards the airlock. "Ma'am? What's the...?"

She turned her head back, where Elster looked.

By the red emergency lights of the corridor, the two saw the figure lying on the ground. Saw him move.

The tech adept, whom they passed four or five times already. Taken for dead. So easily forgotten.

Prone, broken, delirious. But still very much alive. The tech adept raised his head and extended his arm. The Arc Pistol in his metal hand glowed and sparked. Charged by purest motive force.

The Star was paralyzed. So surprised, her mind couldn't process the information in time, before the adept pulled the trigger.

She heard the sound of booted hooves running behind her.

"DASH!"

The Star gasped, feeling hands shove into her. Her head snapped to the side.

CRACK!

Dash was nearly blinded by the bolt of electricity, as it lit up the hallway.

Arcing right through Elster's chest. Her arms still upraised, from where she shoved Dash out of the way.

"AGH!" Elster cried, arching her back. Her limbs contorted painfully.

Dash slid down the wall until she sat. She watched as Elster fell to the ground, twitching. Static electricity arcing across her body, dispersing into the metal floor.

"Elster!" Hippolyta cried, running back. Jenny turned, so she and Petunia could see as well.

"..."

Eyes wide, mouth agape. For the space of three seconds, Dash couldn't speak.

Finally, she screamed. "MOM!"

Hippolyta looked down as she reached Elster, then down the corridor. "Noooooo!" she yelled, raising her laspistol.

ZAP.

"Nagh!" the tech priest adept cried, rolling over. His body smoked. The Arc Pistol went limp in his hand. He writhed painfully. "Ah...ah...!"

"Mom!" Dash gasped, tossing her lasgun aside. She crawled over to the replika commander, still twitching.

Hippolyta, incensed, sprinted to the tech adept. "Son of whore!" she yelled, kicking the weapon from his hand. Behind her helmet, her teeth clenched, face red. "Nrrgh! Mutterficker" She pointed the laspistol down at him.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

Her hand shook violently. Panting, she holstered her smoking weapon and stooped. Picked up the Arc Pistol almost automatically. Stuck it to her belt, opposite her severed arm. When she looked back, she frowned.

"Mom! Mom!" Dash yelled, shaking the prone replika she kneeled over. "Are you okay? Speak to me!" She pulled Elster up and removed her helmet.

"...hughh..." Elster wheezed, eyes clasped shut. Her breathing was ragged, shallow. The muscles in her face twitched. "...D-Dash...?" she gasped.

"Mom...please," Dash breathed, supporting Elster's head. "Are you okay?"

"..." Elster grimaced, cracking one eye open a fraction. The artificial eye was dark, unfocused. "...I...I can't..."

"Is she okay?" Hippolyta said, running over.

"I don't know!" Dash said, cradling Elster. She shook her head. "We...we need to get her back to the Nomarch!"

Jenny stomped over. "I can carry her inside!"

"No!" Dash shouted, looking over to Jenny. "Get Petunia on!" She put her hooves under her and rose. She stooped, draping Elster's left arm over her shoulders. "Hip, help me!"

"Right!" Hippolyta said, stooping on Elster's other side. She had difficulty holding Elster up with one arm, but she managed. Wincing at the pain in her chest. "L-lift on one. Three, two, one!"

The two forced their mother up. She was completely limp, and her already metal-boned body was heavier for the bulky void suit. Her boots dragged on the ground.

"To the door!" Dash said, grunting with exertion.

"..." Elster's head rested against Dash's shoulder. "...D-...Da-ash..."

"Don't speak, mom," Dash grunted, facing forward. "We'll...get you help..."

"...b...bro-ken..." Elster mumbled. She coughed weakly, seeming not even to have the strength for that. "...Dash...you..."

They were halfway to the airlock. They watched as, with a press of a button by Jenny, the tumblers on the door began to come loose.

"..."

Elster felt the burning in her chest. In her lungs, in her heart. In her head. The diodes connecting her meat brain burned. Possibly melted. She wasn't sure her brain itself wasn't damaged. She couldn't access any of her digital interface, let alone her diagnostics.

She also couldn't see.

There, hanging limp in the darkness, she reached out. Reached out on the only layer of reality she yet had unhindered access to.

Circe...can you hear me?

She felt the reassuring hand of the Kolibri touch her. Felt the fear, when she felt Elster.

Mom? What's going on? Are...oh empress, you're...

Don't be afraid, Elster thought. But...I think something...multiple things...are broken...

Elster felt the Kolibri tremble. I'll let the staff know right away! We'll get you help!

Help Petunia. She needs it more.

Circe tried to speak further, but Elster shut her out. So much to do, so little...what was it again? So hard to think.

"...Dash..." she breathed, raspy. "...get...the goods...to the...ngh...rendez-vous...point..."

"Don't worry about that, okay?" Dash said, looking over to Elster. The three were almost to the airlock door. "We'll do it together. Just hang on."

"...if I...don't make...it..." Elster wheezed, grimacing. She swallowed with immense difficulty.

"You're going to be fine, mom!" Dash said, shifting to place both hands under Elster's armpits. She nodded her head to Hippolyta, gesturing to the container Elster discarded down the corridor.

Reluctantly, Hippolyta ran back and grabbed the gene-seed box. The floor rattled under her booted hooves. She walked around Elster and Dash, placing it inside. Then, she ran in front of Elster, as Dash dragged her to the doorway. The Storch stooped, doing her best to support Elster's legs with one arm.

"...if I don't..." Elster breathed, with more urgency, "...you know...what...to do..."

Dash swallowed, looking down at her mother. She grimaced, "...it's not going to come to that, okay? So just...hang on!" The two children pulled Elster across the lip of the doorway, into the airlock. "You're...ngh...going to be fine!"

Hippolyta looked down at Elster, frowning. Then, she shut the airlock door.

"..." Elster could taste oxident in her mouth. Smelled burning.

Circe?

She felt her bioresonant daughter's tears. ...yes?

I'm going to come back, okay? He...Vashtorr...won't let me...get out of it that easy...

 

"I'm flying as fast as I can, okay?"

Hippolyta rubbed her face, stooped over the back of the seat. She had to consciously leash her anger. Yelling couldn't make the Eule go faster. "Just...get us there, okay?" she growled. She stood up, pressing a hand up against the ceiling. Winced in pain. Looked back.

The shuttle was crowded by containers, keeping the precious cargo cool. The cargo they risked everything, including Elster's life, to acquire.

The rear of the shuttle was further dominated by Jenny, who knelt and cradled Petunia.

The Ara, pale and breathing heavy, looked sideways towards the double set of seats in front of her. "...how's...mom?" she croaked.

Dash held Elster in her arms. Her helmet discarded on the ground beside her. "I don't..." she muttered, frowning. She supported Elster's head. "...it's okay, mom," she mumbled, "we're going to get you and Pet help."

"..." Elster's chest shuddered. A lump formed in her throat. "...don't...wo...rry...Dash..." she whispered, flashing a brief, pained smile. "...you...and...Dai...sy...know..." She gasped, swallowing. "...what...to..."

"Don't speak, mom," Dash sobbed, stroking Elster's hair. She smiled sadly. "Just rest. We're almost there."

"..."

The stars whipped rapidly past the front window, as the shuttle turned. The Nomarch hove into view, growing larger by the moment.

Sally pulled the radio receiver up, sweat pouring down her brow. "We're making our approach, Nomarch," she said, frowning. "Have the team ready at dock 2. We'll be coming in as fast as safety allows."

"Ten four, Sally," said Maria. "We'll get the dock cleared."

Hippolyta slammed a fist against the wall. "For fuck's sake," she muttered, grimacing as a wave of pain hit her chest. "Ngh...everything was going fine. We were so close to getting out, without..."

"It'll be fine, Hip," Dash said, glaring at the Storch. "We'll just..."

She felt a chill run up her spine. A mote of shock, horror, and then...sadness.

Dash blinked. ...Circe? Is that you?

Circe was slow to respond. ...Dash...don't... The Kolibri paused.

What? Dash thought, blinking.

She looked down at Elster. "...mom?"

"..."

Elster lay in Dash's arms. She didn't move.

She didn't breathe.

"...mom?" Dash gasped, eyes going wide. "Mom!"

Hippolyta turned back, staring at them. Her jaw dropped. "...no..."

Jenny flinched. She chewed her lip.

Petunia, freezing, shuddered. She tried to sit up, weakly. "...Elster...?"

Sally turned around in her seat, heart skipping a beat.

Dash blinked. She cupped Elster's cheek. Shivered. The flesh was cold.

"...no...no, no, no!" Dash breathed, sitting up. She shook Elster's shoulders. "No, mom, no! Come on! Don't...!"

"..."

Elster did not breathe. Her face didn't twitch. Her eyes were blank, her mouth locked in a tired frown.

Fingers pressed to the neck, Dash felt no pulse.

"No! Mom!" Dash said, face contorted in horror. "MOM!"

Sally gasped, covering her mouth. She turned back in her seat, resting her head on the control stick.

"...no way..." Hippolyta said, all energy draining out of her. She sank to the floor, resting her arm on the seat beside her. She stared into space. "...mom can't have..."

"Oh no," Jenny said, frowning. She shut her eyes.

Petunia clapped a hand over her mouth, to hide the inappropriate smile. She didn't know why her mouth did it. Only that it was the absolute worst expression she could make. She pressed her face into Jenny's chest. To hide her shame, and to bear with the unreality of the situation.

"Mom!" Dash said, shaking Elster. She grimaced in pain. "Mom! Wake up! Wake up! Please!"

She felt Circe's hand on her shoulder. It made Dash flinch.

Dash, Circe thought, stop. She's already gone.

Dash gasped. Her eyes went wide. She felt her eyes moisten.

She's with Vashtorr right now.

The Star's eyes spilled over with tears. Her lower lip quivered. "Ngh..." she whimpered, doubling over. She pressed her face against Elster's forehead.

Dash wept. She cried out.

"...MOMMY!"

Chapter 43: Those Phall'n Leaves Lie Undisturbed Now...

Notes:

...cause you're not here.

"Petunia? Petunia!"

Trinity rushed to her lover's side, just as Jenny transferred her to the gurney.

The Ara's eyes widened. "...oh...Trinity..." she breathed, forcing a smile. She grimaced, hand clutching her stomach. "It's...not as bad as it..."

The Eule threw herself over Petunia, hugging the Ara's face to her chest. "I was so worried!" Trinity cried, stroking her lover's sweat-matted magenta hair. "Don't ever do something so reckless again!"

"...okay..." Petunia mumbled into the Eule's molded silicone lumps. "...can I breathe now?"

"Oh! Sorry!" Trinity said, pulling away. She leaned over and kissed Petunia's forehead.

"Come on, Trin," Breach said, taking her place on the back end of the gurney. "Double Tap will kill me if Pet bites it! We gotta move!"

"Yeah!" Maria said, on the front end. "She needs medical attention, stat!"

"R-right!" Trinity said, backing away. As the gurney started to move, she looked back. "...oh god, what happened to Hip?"

"Shit," Breach said, looking over her shoulder. "They did a number on her, didn't they?" She stared forward again, leaning far over to push. "Let's move."

Trinity jogged to follow, taking one final look backwards. "...wait...where's mom?"

Petunia cringed, chewing her thumb.

 

"Where is she?"

Jenny frowned, hugging Sally. "...b-back here..." she mumbled, turning.

Daisy and Circe crossed the docking bay, leaving Jenny behind, standing sadly. Sally, overwrought, just sat down on the floor next to her, face in her hands. The Mynah rubbed her back with the utmost gentleness.

Hippolyta leaned against the shuttle's exterior, staring forlornly at the floor. She clutched the ruined stump of her shoulder, shivering. Giving shallow, ragged breaths. She flinched when she noticed they arrived. "...oh...it's you..."

Circe walked over and pressed a hand to her lover's arm. She frowned. "...hey..."

The Storch looked down at her lover. She frowned, sadly. "...h-hey..." she breathed, a lump in her throat. She offered her hand.

The Kolibri took the hand, and kissed it. They shared looks of pain.

Daisy looked impassively between them, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her crimson robe. "...you should go to the workshop," she said, nodding to the injured shoulder. "We can repair that in no time."

Hippolyta shook her head. "No." She sobbed, then grimaced. "No. I can't...just leave her." Clapped a gloved hand over her mouth, to hide her pain.

"There's nothing more you can do for her," Daisy said, flatly. "It's out of your hands." She blinked. "Hand. Soon to be hands again."

"Don't fucking joke about this, Daisy!" Hippolyta yelled. "Mom is...!"

"Shh!"

Hippolyta looked down, surprised. "..."

"Daisy doesn't want you making a scene," Circe said, pressing a finger to her lips.

"What? Am I not allowed to show my feelings all of a sudden?" Hippolyta sobbed, moisture in the corner of her eyes. "Do we now care about decorum?"

"No," Daisy said, flatly. Pressed a finger to her own lips. "We just need to keep this quiet. Or the entire ship will fall apart."

Hippolyta blinked, on the verge of shouting. She swallowed it, looking down at the floor. "...I...guess..."

"Hold on," Daisy said, raising a hand. "We need to do this. Just...follow along. It'll make sense in a moment."

The Ara calmly walked down the length of the shuttle. Outstretched fingers traced the cool metal as she walked. Turned a corner to the back. The Storch and Kolibri followed, a few steps behind.

Dash sat on the edge of the ramp, cradling Elster's head in her lap.

Daisy forced the biggest frown she could. She stooped, patting Elster's crossed arms. "...we...really made a mess of things, huh?"

Dash sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She stared into space, stroking Elster's hair. "...it's my fault..."

"Don't start that," Daisy said, looking at the Star somberly. "Don't start blaming yourself for what happened. Don't engage in counterfactual thinking. As if tormenting yourself over what you could have done instead will magically reverse the passage of time." She reached out and patted Dash's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do about the past. We need to attend to the here and now. Mom needs us."

Dash looked into the Ara's face. She sniffed. "...how can you be so calm?"

"I don't know," Daisy said, looking down. "Something with my neurodivergent brain, I think. Things I should cry about, I can't cry. But play a song from a rock opera about a boat being destroyed, and I'm moved to tears. I can't explain it." She shook her head. "All I can do is take advantage of this stubborn tendency to dissociate, and get shit done."

She rose to her hooves, habitually adjusting her crimson robe. "You remember what mom told us?" Daisy said. "About what to do?"

Dash nodded, rubbing her eye with the back of her wrist. "Yeah."

"Good," Daisy said, nodding. She pulled out a radio. "Bring the gurney in. Leave it in front of the shuttle. Don't...don't tell anyone about this."

"...uh...okay?" said Kite, confused.

In the distance, they heard the sound of wheels trundling across the metal floor.

Hippolyta finally turned the corner, leaning on the end of the doorway. Clutched her ragged shoulder. "...what happens now? She's dead, isn't she? Are we just going to hide it from everyone?"

"She's dead for now," Daisy said, holding a single finger up. She walked to the side, to stand beside Dash, at Elster's head. "We're taking her up to the Penrose."

"The Penrose? Why?" Hippolyta said, cocking an eyebrow. She frowned, scratching her head. "Wait, what do you mean 'for now'?"

"It means, Vashtorr isn't done with mom." Circe walked up beside her lover, taking her hand again. She looked down at Elster, and pressed a hand to her lips. She shook her head, pained. "...sorry, it's just...I felt her passing, and still...seeing her is..."

Hippolyta interposed herself between Circe and the body. Hugged the Kolibri. It still felt strange, having the little replika's face press into her chest, instead of...way lower. Hippolyta stroked Circe's hair. "...I understand..."

Daisy sighed, squatting down to pat Elster's forehead. "It's as Circe said. The Arkifane won't release Elster from her contract, until her debt is paid." She stood up again, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her robe again. "That's why she gave Dash and I strict instructions. If she falls, we have to retrieve her body if feasible. And bring her back to the Penrose. To place her inside her calibration pod."

"And...what?" Hippolyta said, looking between Daisy and the body. "She'll just...come back? Just like that? How long will that take?"

Dash shrugged, shaking her head. "We...don't know."

"Theory is different from execution," Daisy said. "We've never had it tested before. We've never...seen her..." She couldn't say it. The Ara shook her head. "Anyway...we take her up, as instructed."

Circe nodded, peeking around the corner of the shuttle and beckoning with a finger. As she walked over, they heard slow, stomping hoof-steps. Hoof-steps, and the trundle of the gurney.

Sally wheeled the gurney over, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. She couldn't look at Elster.

Circe walked over and hugged Sally. The Eule returned the hug, beginning to quietly sob.

Daisy looked at the gurney, then to Elster. Pressed a finger to her lips pensively. "...Jenny, load mom on," she said, "I'll be right back." She wandered off quickly, head turning about, searching.

"Alright," Jenny said, slowly moving over. "Sorry about this, Dash."

"It's...it's fine..." Dash mumbled, shutting her eyes. She raised Elster's body, so Jenny could more easily pick her up.

The giant carried her burden as gently as if Elster were still alive. More gently, if anything. Bearing her as if handling a holy relic. With great care, Jenny deposited her mother on the gurney. Dash helped her adjust hand, leg, and hair placement. Even smoothing the folds in her void suit. Affording her the utmost respect and dignity.

Dash and Hippolyta started wheeling the gurney out, when Daisy returned, bearing an oil-stained tarp.

"Sorry I couldn't procure something cleaner," Daisy said, unfolding the tarp. "But we can't have anyone seeing her."

Sally, looking between Elster and the filthy tarp, squirmed. "Wait!" she said, holding out a hand. She looked to Circe. "Circe...take your jumpsuit off."

The Kolibri blinked, then nodded. "I understand," she said, unzipping. Divesting herself of her navy blue jumpsuit.

They were all replikas here. While some on the Nomarch (especially some Aras) preferred to go clothed at all times (just as others preferred to never wear clothing if they could help it), few considered walking around in just their synthetic skin strange. (Well, skin and the ubiquitous pseudo-underwear coverings they came equipped with, for hiding the holes intended for waste disposal). It was only those replikas who elected to install "add-ons" that assiduously wore at least "proper" underwear at all times.

So when Circe stripped, she felt no embarrassment. Not that she would have allowed such a feeling to stop her. She handed the suit over to Sally.

"Thank you," Sally said, nodding. She walked to the gurney, eyes on the floor. She sighed, finally forcing herself to look. A lump formed in her throat. "I'm sorry, mom." She spread the suit over Elster's face. Then, gently, tucked the fabric in under her head and shoulders.

Hippolyta smiled sadly. "It doesn't really cover much, does it?" she said, rubbing her aching shoulder.

"The rest of her body can be washed off, right?" Sally said, rubbing her arm. "I just...didn't want any getting on her face, you know?" She looked around. "That's not weird, is it?"

"Not at all," Daisy said, forcing a smile. She gestured for the replikas to give her room, then whipped the tarp into the air. Between Daisy and Sally, they spread the tarp over the whole body.

Dash, rubbing her puffy eyes with her wrist, sighed. "Yeah, that's not fooling anyone, is it?" she said, frowning.

"They'll know someone died, just seeing it," Hippolyta muttered, scratching her head. "It won't take long for them to realize who's missing from the strike team."

Daisy crossed her arms, thinking. "...Circe," she said, turning her head, "can you use bioresonance to...I don't know, make everyone steer clear of us, as we bring her up to the Penrose?"

Circe stroked her chin, then nodded. "I think so," she said. "I can also get Isis and Shah to help me."

Jenny pressed an oversized hand to her heart. "Oh...they know about it too, don't they?" she said, an expression of pain on her face.

"Yes," Circe nodded. "It would be impossible to keep it secret from them." She sighed.

"Enough stalling, I think," Daisy said, tapping her fingers against her arm. "Circe and I will head up to the Penrose."

"I'm coming too," Dash said, walking over to the back of the gurney.

"Are you sure?" Circe said. "It's okay if you rest. You've had an emotional day."

"The day isn't over," Dash said, frowning, "until mom is in her calibration pod. She entrusted me with this responsibility. I'll see it through to the end." She looked down at the bulge denoting the boots of Elster's suit. "Plus...I don't know what to do with myself. I need to work, or I'll..." She shook her head.

"Fair enough," Daisy said, nodding. She took her place at the front of the gurney.

"I'll go too," Hippolyta said.

Circe held her hand out. "Maybe you should go to the workshop, to have that arm taken care of. And your ribs."

"Babe, I can do that later," Hippolyta groaned, frowning. She winced, rubbing her chest. "...I...can't just leave mom."

Circe frowned, looking up at her lover. "You and I both know what Elster would say, if she...wasn't with the Dark Artificer," she said, huffing. "She'd complain you were fussing over her, rather than getting yourself fixed."

Hippolyta stood ramrod straight. She hugged her side, looking down. "...nrgh..." she grunted, blushing. "Yeah, yeah."

"Besides," Daisy said, pointing at the Storch's stump, "you can't climb the ladder very well in your condition."

Hippolyta grumbled, shrinking in on herself.

"Get yourself patched up," Daisy said. "Maybe have a shower when you're nice and sealed. We'll get mom situated. Then you can come. This is the most productive use of your time right now."

"...fine..." Hippolyta mumbled. She walked to Circe and leaned down. Kissed her lover on the forehead. "Take care of her, honey."

"I will."

"Take Sally to the workshop with you," Daisy said. "At least until Myrtle gets off shift." She tapped her chin pensively. "Oh right, and someone needs to oversee the transfer of the gene-sperm to the freezer."

"I can start doing that," Jenny said, raising a hand. "I'll bring some of the big containers over. I can't climb the ladder to the Penrose anyway."

"I'll call someone to oversee the rest of the deliveries," Daisy said.

The Ara sighed, placing her hands on the gurney handles. "So much to do, so little time to do it."

 

"How does it look? Can you fix her?"

Rose sighed, looking over her shoulder. "Trinity, can you please take her to the other room? We need to work."

"Sure." Trinity took Double Tap's hand. "Come on, sweetie," she said, tugging. "They can't help her if you're breathing down their necks."

"But...!" Double Tap said, frowning. Reluctantly, the green-haired Star allowed herself to be removed from the medical room. "...keep her safe..."

"We will," Heidi (EULR-N0605) said, nodding from behind her medical face mask. Her twin, blond braids trailed down her back, tucked under her surgical gown. As the door slid shut, she sighed. "...where's mom when you need her?"

"Probably overseeing gene-seed storage," Rose said, behind her own mask. Her long, red hair was tied back. "Back on track. How do we want to handle this?"

Beneath the strong, white light above, they looked down on Petunia's open chest cavity. An oxygen mask over the Ara's mouth, a plug in her neck connecting her to a calibration machine. Her breath was ragged, and pained. Her face pale from oxident loss. A fresh bag of scarlet liquid hung from a stand above, feeding into a neck port.

The oxident organ, aggrieved and punctured, was pulled up for viewing. Several forceps attached, to arrest bleeding. It throbbed in time with the beating of her visible heart.

Heidi sighed. "...I'm not sure. Do we need a removal and replacement?"

"It would arguably reduce healing time," Rose said, cocking her head to the side. Her fingers fidgeted together, the plastic medical gloves caked in scarlet. "I'm just thinking...it doesn't look that bad. It doesn't seem unsalvageable."

"You're thinking sew it up?" Heidi said, eyeing the Ara. "It could start bleeding again."

"It could start bleeding from the attachment point of a new organ, too," Rose retorted, holding up a finger. "At least here, we'd save on the organ. We might need the new one later."

"Our crew is something like 50% Aras, Rose," Heidi said, cocking an eyebrow. "We're not lacking in Ara organs."

"But that also means we need as many as we can get, if something terrible happens. High demand."

The two stayed quiet for a few seconds, thinking.

"...we're really bad at this, aren't we?" Heidi said, shutting her eyes. "I wish we had a proper doctor on board."

"We're pretty good, really, by the standards of people with very little training," Rose said, shrugging. "Replika bodies are more forgiving that gestalt ones." She shook her head. "Anyway, we need to act now. Every minute we waste, it makes it worse. Are we sewing the organ up, or replacing?"

Heidi exhaled, thinking. Grinding her teeth. "...let's sew her up," she said. "We'll need to monitor her for the next several days."

Rose nodded, reaching for surgical tools. She paused. "Oh. Right. We'll also need to get her a drain chest plate."

Heidi nodded. "Right, right," she said. The Eule tapped an intercom with her elbow. "Whoever's on deck, grab the drain chest plate for Aras."

"Right!" said Myrtle, over the intercom.

"..."

Several minutes later, Rose attached the drain at the bottom of the serviceable patch job. Then moved the oxident organ back into place. "All done."

"Good," Heidi said, nodding. She checked Petunia's vitals on the nearby machine, then began removing her gloves. "Let's screw her ribcage back on."

Rose stared into space, then chuckled. "You know, I just realized."

"What?" Heidi said, slipping fingers under the flap of a glove.

"You know what they call this kind of a drain?"

"No, what do they call it?" Heidi said cocking an eyebrow.

Rose smiled from behind her mask.

"A Penrose drain."

Heidi squinted. "...that's awful."

Rose shrugged. "Eh," she said, "mom thought it was funny."

 

"Where is she? Where's mom?"

Daisy sighed. She turned sideways and extended a hand. "In her room."

Vanessa stepped off the elevator and stormed past the Ara. They crossed the upper gallery, descended the ladder, then swiftly entered Maintenance.

"Mom!" the Eule cried, running to the calibration pod. She pressed her hands to the metal frame, looking down through the glass.

Elster reposed calmly, hair matted by sweat. Black bags under her eyes. She did not breathe. Yet still seemed so lifelike. As if a saint lying in state, afforded miraculous preservation.

"...mom..." Vanessa gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes.

Dash, sat on a storage container, got up and walked over. Passed a pile of void suits, unceremoniously abandoned in the corner. She clapped hands on the Eule's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Vanessa pushed back, then rounded on the Star. "How could you let this happen?" she barked, pointing a finger at Dash. "How could you let her die!? Why didn't you...?"

An expression of pain. Dash clapped a hand over her own mouth. Her chest heaved. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

The fire inside Vanessa died. She frowned, lowering her finger. A look of pain on her own face. As a tear rolled down, she hugged the Star, sobbing. "...hagh...I'm sorry!"

"No, I'm sorry!" Dash sobbed, hugging her back. "It's my fault! She died saving me!"

"I told you," Daisy said, walking over. She clapped a hand on Dash's head, rubbing it. She privately enjoyed the novel experience of giving a Star headpats. "None of that. Don't blame yourself for what mom did. SHE chose to push you out of the way."

"B-but if I was just paying more attention," Dash sniffed, tears rolling down her face, "that guy wouldn't have got the drop on me. And mom would..."

Daisy rubbed Dash's cheek, thumbing away a tear. "Enough," she said softly, but firmly.

Vanessa pulled away from the hug, wiping tears with the sleeve of her burgundy knitted sweater. She looked down at the metal coffin that dominated the room. "...was there really no way to help her?" she sniffed. "She just died. Couldn't we have resuscitated her?"

"I'd hoped so, too," Daisy said, walking around to the opposite side of the pod, "back when I first got the news. I grabbed medical supplies, just in case. But I timed it. It took another ten minutes, from when we noticed she expired, to safely land inside the dock, shut the blast doors, and pump oxygen back into the room."

Vanessa frowned, clutching a hand to her heart. "...oh..." she mumbled. "...how long can a replika...?"

"Flatline before brain death?" Daisy said, neutrally. "Less than that." She sighed, a finger tracing the metal edging around the pod's glass panes. "Moreover...after we got mom up here and out of the suit, I popped her chest plate open. Just to see the damage."

The Eule stared down, barely able to see the reattached chest from the angle of the glass. "...that bad?"

Daisy nodded. "Mmhmm. Heart and lungs severely burned by electric shock. Hippolyta said she would hand the weapon off to Diodana for examination. But I surmise they were...unsalvageable."

"We have replacements, though," Vanessa whined, fighting back another round of tears. "Couldn't we...?" She trailed off, shutting her eyes. She already knew the answer.

Daisy, never one to miss a lecture, supplied it anyway. "Which were back up in the workshop, with the other replika organs. Thereby extending the time needed for resuscitation further with both transport, AND organ replacement surgery. Rest assured, I ran all the numbers."

Dash placed a hand on Vanessa's shoulder. The Star was still wiping tears from her own face. "Van...there was nothing we could do..."

The Eule banged a fist on the metal edge of the pod. "So what do we do now?" she cried, shaking her head. "What's the point of this?" She gestured to the pod. "Some funeral? Shouldn't she at least be in the freezer, so she doesn't rot?"

"Mom gave Dash and I instructions," Daisy said, calmly. "That if she fell, she was to be placed in here." She tapped the glass. "Supposedly...Vashtorr will revive her."

Vanessa rubbed her eye with her sleeve, frowning. "Can we really believe that?" she gasped, one eye glaring at Daisy. "How do we know that bastard can or would do anything? Doesn't he just want souls?" She gritted her teeth. "What if he just claimed hers? What if she's in...whatever fucked up mechanical hell he calls home?"

"Mom said Vashtorr won't let her stay dead, until she pays her debt," Dash said, massaging Vanessa's shoulders. "And she's got a long way to go yet."

"How can we know for sure?" Vanessa said, touching the hand on her shoulder.

"According to Elster," Daisy said, looking down, "it's happened before." She tilted her head to the side. "Admittedly, she also said the first time, her body was destroyed in a way that made resuscitation non-viable. Or, at least, more effort on the Arkifane's part than was worth attempting."

"Fucking cheapskate," Dash said, frowning. She sniffed. "Anyway, that's why it's so important to get her body back. Maybe she'll be able to come back more quickly, if we get it to the pod."

"We don't even know if that's how it works," Vanessa said, rubbing her nose.

I was there, you know. Back when the boss first came back. She woke up in this very pod.

Vanessa flinched, startled. She pressed a hand to her head. Shivered, feeling the slimy presence brushing against her mind.

The boss sure was surprised to see me, let me tell you. But we had a long flight from the Oort Cloud, to get to know each other. Talked about Chaos and the Dark Gods for hours.

Daisy shut her eyes. She started to mutter Binaric, chanting to herself.

Mik'hul continued. But you're right, you know. Can you really trust Vashtorr? Dude got your mom into this mess to begin with.

Dash clutched Vanessa's shoulder, making her flinch.

The Eule winced in pain. Her eyes opened wide. Was he talking to all of them?

Plus, Mik'hul thought, he's not really a GOD, now is he? Does he even have the power to bring the boss back so many times? I don't know...

"...what?" Vanessa mumbled, clenching her fist. She started to pant.

"Shut up," Dash whispered under her breath.

Daisy clutched her forehead, frowning. Kept muttering, faster now.

But my master Tzeentch definitely has the power to do it. And it won't cost more than one sou-

"Shut UP, Mik'hul!" Dash barked into the open air. She stomped to the wall, banging a fist against the metal. "We're not buying! You hear me!? Elster already made a damn deal!"

Neither Star, nor Ara, seemed to react further to any unseen voice.

But Mik'hul made one last pass at the Eule.

And look where that got her. Right, Vanessa?

Vanessa cringed, leaning on the pod. She looked down at Elster's still face, horrified.

She's not getting fresher.

 

That's the situation. We need to keep the ship running, until Elster revives. Get me?

Adler stared at the floor, his hand twitching. He chewed his lip. It was, to say the least, much to process all at once. Then, he stood up straight, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Understood," he said, face once again a mask of professionalism. There was comfort, after all, in a job well done. Order in routine. Turning an unsolvable problem into a problem that could be solved. Or at least managed.

Diodana looked away. As always, expression unreadable. Save the green photo-receptors going dark. "...understood," she said. She returned to the workbench. "ARAR-N0611, I will finish STCR-N0601's repairs. You are permitted the rest of the shift off."

Chicory blinked, looking up from the mangled shoulder she was soldering. "Oh? Okay..." she said, putting down her tools. "Goodnight, Hippolyta," she said, brushing a lock of dyed blue hair from her face. She rose to her hooves and made for the door.

"Yeah...goodnight," Hippolyta said, staring at the floor. Waited until the door slid shut behind Chicory. She side-eyed Diodana, as the gestalt took Chicory's place. The Storch turned her head, checking to see if the room was devoid of eavesdroppers. "...so did Circe tell you two?"

"I did," Circe said, nodding. She sat down on the workshop floor, cross-legged.

"I'm not surprised the commander died on a mission," Adler said, pacing the room. "This was always a possibility." He clenched his hands together nervously. He looked sidelong at Circe. "It would have been nice, if she elected to inform her administrator earlier that she could return to life."

"Or her head tech priest," Diodana said, her metal hands already at work rebuilding Hippolyta's shoulder. She shook her head. "A few years ago, I would have been ecstatic to learn my jailer expired. Even if that good cheer were only temporary." She sighed. "LSTR-512 just had to wait until NOW to do something so...upsetting."

"Tell me about it," Hippolyta said, frowning. On the worktable by her side, her old ribcage sat, broken in two places. The titanium would need to be smelted down, recycled. On the floor nearby, her partially ruined void suit sat, awaiting its own recycling.

She winced, as synthetic nerves and muscle fibers were reattached. Hippolyta clenched her hand. "...I should have put a few las bolts in that motterficker's brain, the first time. Just to be sure."

"How did it happen?" Adler asked, pausing the pacing to look at the Storch.

"We killed some tech priest that was siccing flying buzzsaw skulls at us," Hippolyta said. She side-eyed Diodana. "No offense."

"None taken," Diodana said, not removing her photo-receptors from the work. "You need not apologize for defending yourself, during a war."

"We thought Jenny killed the guy with the mining laser," the Storch continued, wincing again as another cluster of nerves came online. "He wasn't moving at all. His body was all kinds of fucked up. Figured it was safe to ignore him." She chewed her lip. "Always confirm the kill. I should know that. Amateur hour mistake." She smacked her face with her hand. Once, twice, thrice.

"A priest with ample bionics can be more sturdy than they look," Diodana said. She paused, then, hesitantly, patted Hippolyta's shoulder. "Do not become embroiled in counterfactual thinking, STCR-N0601..."

"I know, I know," Hippolyta sighed, shutting her eyes. "Daisy gave Dash the same fuckin' lecture."

Diodana nodded, continuing the work. "Recommence recitation of events."

"Sure. When we made the final trip to the airlock, to load the last of the gene-seed, well..." Hippolyta chewed her lip. She sighed. "Turns out, the guy wasn't dead. He waited until Dash was the last one to pass him, and fired this thing at her." She pulled the weapon from her belt, handing it to the tech priest. "Fired fucking lightning, I think. Elster pushed Dash out of the way...and took it herself..."

Diodana held the gun up reverently. "By the Omnissiah!" she breathed, studying the device. "An Arc Pistol."

"Is that an important weapon?" Circe asked, elbows propped on her knees, holding her head up.

"Rare, certainly," Diodana said, fingers and photo-receptors pouring over every inch. "Only individuals of rank carry them, as they are so difficult to build and maintain. Prized artifacts. Powerful, as well." She looked to Hippolyta. "How long did LSTR-512 survive after being struck?"

Hippolyta shrugged. "A few minutes? Long enough to load her and the gene-seed in the shuttle and get about halfway back. Why?"

"It's amazing LSTR-512's brain was not melted on the spot," Diodana said. She placed the weapon down on the table. "It is a fine instrument, in any event. It is...unfortunate what happened, of course."

"'s alright," Hippolyta sighed, shutting her eyes. "You can keep it if you want."

"A generous gift," Diodana said, nodding. "I accept." She returned to the task of repair.

"Back to the matter at hand." Adler paced the room once, twice. Then groaned. "What are we to do about the crew? What do we tell them?"

Circe's mouth screwed up. She mussed her hair. "Ugh...I don't know..." she whined, hiding her face in her hands. "How do you tell a close-knit family like this that mom is dead?" She shook her head. "Fuck, how do you tell them she's dead, but she'll come back? As if that's remotely believable!"

"Least of all," Adler mused, continuing to pace, "when the mechanism for her return is tied into a deal with the devil?"

"I know, right?" Hippolyta said, waving her hand. "Like, an ACTUAL devil! They might think we've gone insane in our grief!"

"More insane than usual, you mean," Diodana said, testing the fit on a replacement arm. "As if this entire operation is not amply supplied with lunatics."

The Kolibri slid her fingers down her face. "...I think I understand why Elster didn't tell us about this before."

"Not telling most of the crew is one thing," Adler said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why were senior staff not told about her ability to revive?"

Circe huffed. "I think..."

The Kolibri froze. Her eyes went wide. Dilated.

"...Circe?" Adler said, stopping in his tracks.

The Kolibri screamed.

"Circe!" Hippolyta yelled, bolting to her hooves. "What's the matter?"

Circe clutched her head, panting. "...return...return..."

"What is...?" Adler said, holding his hands out.

"Babe?" Hippolyta said, extending a hand. She slowly walked over. "Are you okay?"

The little replika shook her head violently, over and over. She gritted her teeth, eyes clasped shut. "Return...return..." she whimpered. "Return to Terra!"

"Circe!" Hippolyta said, rushing over. She sank to her knees and hugged her lover with one arm. "Stop! You'll hurt yourself!"

"'Return to Terra'?" Diodana said, placing her tools down. She rose to her feet.

"Return to Terra!" Circe screamed, face contorted in pain. "At once! By order of Rogal Dorn! Return to Terra! Must fortify!" She shook her head. "Fortify, fortify!"

"Shh, shh, shh!" Hippolyta said, pressing her forehead to Circe's. She stroked the Kolibri's dark hair. "It's okay. It's okay. Calm down, baby. I'm here."

"Fortify...fortify..." Circe mumbled, tears running down her face. She hugged Hippolyta, her entire body trembling. "Fortify Terra...Night Lords...Alpha Legion...Iron Warriors...Word Bearers...Excommunicate Traitoris..."

"What is this?" Adler whispered, nervously brushing his hair back.

"I think...it is an astropathic message," Diodana said, tapping her respirator. "As a psyker, she must be picking it up."

"Is astro-telepathy usually so...traumatic?" Adler said, glancing at the tech priest.

"...hah...fortify...traitors...return....nagh!" Circe bawled, pressing her face into Hippolyta's chest.

"Usually not," Diodana said, shaking her head. "To have such a strong effect...I'm not terribly versed in astro-telepathy. But from context, this must be a message - or messages - sent by Terra in response to the massacre at Isstvan. Primarch Rogal Dorn has doubtless ascertained how precarious the Imperium's position is, and sent a deluge of missives ordering a withdrawal of loyalist forces."

"To consolidate defenses around the capital," Adler said, nodding. "Prudent, of the loyalists." He stroked his chin, pensively.

"High probability the so-called 'Ruinstorm' has affected both the clarity and rate of travel for these messages," Diodona postulated. "If the blockage was severe enough...it might explain the sudden, violent onset. Many messages getting through, all at once."

"Shh, shh," Hippolyta cooed, stroking the back of Circe's head. The Storch's eyes were shut, and she was rocking her lover back and forth. "It's okay...put a wall up. The messages aren't for you. Block them out."

Circe hiccuped, sobbing. She smooshed her face deep into the Storch's neck. "...fortify...ngh...return..."

"Push it away, baby," Hippolyta whispered, kissing Circe's hair. "It's just us. Push it away. You're going to be alright."

Adler chewed his thumb. "...I need to find the other Kolibris," he said suddenly. "If Circe is experiencing this..." The administrator made towards the door, pressing the keypad beside it. "...then the others probably are..."

The door slid open. Chicory flinched, staggering away from the threshold.

"...too..." Adler said, eyeing the Ara in front of him.

Chicory blinked, holding her hands up. "...I wasn't..." she lied.

Adler stared into her eyes, until the Ara averted them. He clapped his hands on her shoulders.

"Eek!" Chicory squeaked, jumping in her synthetic skin. "I'm sorry!"

"Chicory," Adler said, glaring, "we need to find Isis and Shahrazad. They are no doubt in pain and distress. We have to get as many people on this as possible. Understood?"

Chicory blinked, then nodded. She forced a smile. "Y-yes! I can do that!"

"Then move!" Adler said, twisting her out of the way.

Back in the room, Diodana watched the two leave, then looked at the lovers clinging together on the floor. She sighed.

"So many diversions. I will never get work done at this rate."

Chapter 44: Phalling Apart

"Arise, servant. Attend me."

Elster sighed. Sat up. At least she could see again.

She put her unbooted hooves on the metal hull of the Penrose, and stood up. Around her was not the customary scarlet sea. Instead, an infinite sea of stars. Elster didn't panic about not being able to breathe. She knew full well she wasn't currently alive.

The replika servant crossed the hull, approaching the stately Daemon Demi-God that towered above her. Off the port bow, she saw the Serpens Ferreus, drifting slowly away.

"Your promptness is appreciated, pseudo-fleshling," Vashtorr said, looking out at the void. "As is your success."

"We still need to get the gene-seed to the buyers," Elster said, taking her place near enough to his side. She turned to look at the retreating Strike Cruiser. "Does it really count as a success if that part is incomplete?"

"A trifle," Vashtorr said, waving a clawed hand dismissively. "Verily, I doubt not your capacity to effect the exchange. Provided you deescalate tensions."

Elster cocked an eyebrow. Did this mean the buyers would be hostile to start with? Or...would complications arise during the meeting? She sighed, scratching her head. "I'll keep that in mind, Dark Artificer."

"So confident am I in your capabilities," said the Daemon, "I shall absolve your debt presently. For plundering the gene-banks of the Iron Warriors vessel." He struck the hull with the blunt end of his enormous hammer.

Elster sighed with relief, seeing her Soul Count decrease. It would almost make up for...

"Naturally, there is the matter of your reanimation..."

Elster shut her eyes, exhaling hard as her Soul Count rose back up again. At least it's not by so much this time, she thought. "I take it my kids got my body back in one piece?"

"Your progeny follow your instructions to the letter," Vashtorr said, nodding. "Though not without dithering and weeping and histrionics. I relish the day your creations cease making such a production out of your death."

I'd prefer not dying often enough that they CAN become desensitized to it, Elster thought, narrowing her eyes. If not for their sakes, then for Ariane's.

Another thought occurred to Elster. She raised her head. "...so what's the real reason we had to plunder that gene-seed? What does taking it and giving it to other Astartes accomplish?"

"Hmm?" Vashtorr said, the furnaces behind his eyes and mouth flaring. "Normally, my servant inquires not of the greater picture. Explain this deviation?"

"Let's just say," Elster said, glaring sideways at the Daemon, "I take interest in the particulars, when my kids have to watch me die."

Vashtorr nodded. "Understood. First, accessing the Phall system, with Iron Warriors permission, expedites your pace. Ensuring your swift arrival in Xana, with time spare to pursue other matters in transit."

"Granted," Elster said, nodding. "But gaining access wasn't that difficult, all things considered. Hazardous, but not difficult. Moreover, we could have rushed ahead, without boarding the Serpens. That would be even faster. So I ask again: why the gene-seed? Doesn't this just hobble Horus's forces?"

"The Warmaster's overall military success is irrelevant to me. Provided my designs advance apace."

"I suppose that's true."

"To the matter at hand: The Iron Warriors 135th Company was already nearly annihilated, servant," said Vashtorr, playing with the head of his hammer. "Whereas, removing Tankred Kurl and his Apothecary ensures the captaincy of the Strike Cruiser remains vacant. Allowing...others to take control of it." He raised a clawed finger. "In anticipation of your objection, the vessel can and will be repaired. The Iron Warriors can ill afford to squander even a severely compromised voidship."

"It won't be functional for a long time, though, right? Maybe for the rest of the war," Elster said, waving a hand. "What's the point of a vacant captaincy, if the ship sits in some orbital dock for years?"

"What indeed?" Vashtorr said, chuckling. "Moreover, one member of the crew was not on the ship during the battle. He is now free to pursue his own ambitions."

Looking dumbfounded, Elster stared, processing. A cog turned in her head. "...Goria. You're talking about Goria."

"Chaplain Goria, Priest of the Iron Warriors warrior lodge," Vashtorr said, nodding. "Trained by the priests of Davin, to enact the work of the Gods. And now, free to pursue advancement among his Legion, or at least its fervent minority subculture."

"Because I killed his Captain," Elster said. Another cog turned in her head. Her eyes widened. "AND because of the prophecy, right?"

Vashtorr chuckled. "A prophecy spoken once can be ignored. Such are cheap as screws in a manufactorum. Spoken twice, it holds greater legitimacy. Each link in the chain coming to pass raises his standing. Goria will proceed to a lengthy and infamous career. Well done."

Elster narrowed her eyes, glaring. "You used me. You and Tzeentch. Was it collusion between you two? Or is this just two 'great minds', thinking alike? Investing in Goria's future, to compete for influence over him?"

"Of course I used you, servant," Vashtorr said, turning to look at her. "You are my bonded representative in the material world. You followed this path willingly. Even without knowing why, you comprehend your assignments are of great import to my future designs. Plead not innocence, pseudo-fleshling. It is unbecoming."

Elster blushed, looking sharply to the hull beneath her. He was right, of course. As if she had any basis to be mad that the Daemon who held her in bondage would exploit her. What did she expect?

I can still be angry he risked my kid's lives, just for delivering a prophecy, she thought, chewing her lip. If that was the point, he could have just told me to do that, and saved us all time and risk.

They stood in silence for a space.

"...what happens now?" Elster said, not looking at the Daemon. "With the battle, I mean?"

Vashtorr struck the hull with the bottom of his hammer. The stars shifted, as the Penrose (and perhaps the Nomarch below it?) zipped across space. The arrangement of the dancing divines remained consistent, though.

They floated within visual range of a void battle, playing out between the Iron Blood and a multitude of Imperial Fist vessels. The void was alight with lance beam exchanges. An escort craft, shorn of shields, disintegrated and exploded.

"The Imperial Fists in Phall, sensing opportunity, attempt to board Primarch Perturabo's ship," Vashtorr said, gesturing to the Gloriana class Battleship. "Seeking to battle amidships to the Primarch's personal quarters, to effect his murder. In so doing, shift the civil war firmly in the Imperium's favor."

"But they fail, right?" Elster said, looking sidelong at the Daemon. "Goria doesn't get his lengthy, infamous career if the prophecy is wrong within days of being 'confirmed' by me. So Perturabo can't die here."

"Indubitably, the Iron Son of Olympus survives," Vashtorr said, nodding. "Before foothold on the Iron Blood can be solidified, astropathic messages from Terra arrive. Informing the Imperial Fists of orders from their progenitor, Rogal Dorn: retreat to Terra, to fortify it against Horus."

"Surely they'd at least try to kill Perturabo before they left, right?" Elster said. She folded her arms, and tilted her head to the side. She gestured with a hand. "He's right there. Would the Fists give up that chance, just to follow the order?"

Vashtorr chuckled. "Know, servant, that events to transpire here..." He gestured to the void battle. "...are set in stone. Were it another Legion, they may have tarried. If another Fist in command, like Sigismund, perhaps the Legionaries would expend all effort to assassinate Perturabo, before withdrawal. But short of that, negative. Preposterous. Literally unthinkable. The Imperial Fists do not question orders. They do not interrogate motives, nor weigh options. They do not agonize over what is right, or prudent, or advantageous in the long term. Terra, and Rogal Dorn, supplied the order, and the Imperial Fists obey." He looked down at Elster. "No alternate outcome was either possible or considered. It was never going to conclude any other way."

Elster blinked, then looked out into the void streaked by scarlet. "...you know, it's rather convenient. For the Iron Warriors, that is." She inclined her head slightly towards the Daemon. "That the message for the Imperial Fists just happened to arrive at this very moment, to save Perturabo's life. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Vashtorr merely chuckled.

The replika sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Fucking daemons," she muttered. She stood up straight. "None of this matters to me anyway. When will my body be ready to inhabit again? I don't want to keep my kids waiting."

"Soon enough," Vashtorr said, clicking his claws together. "Repairs already underway. Until then, I anticipate you desire reunion with your woman?"

Elster sighed. "Yes. That would be nice."

She didn't know how well she'd be able to enjoy seeing Ariane, with how worried she was over the kids. Elster clutched her chest. She felt guilty, spending time with Ariane while the others were probably mourning her.

I mean, Daisy and Dash know what to do, and Circe can be trusted to keep the others in line. Things can't fall apart too badly, right?

---

"Ngh!"

Tulip shoved Daisy against the metal wall.

"...Tulip..." Daisy breathed, gently placing a hand on her sister's wrist.

"Dammit, Daisy," Tulip growled, fingers clutching her sister's crimson robes. Eyes peaked from between locks of auburn hair. "Where is she? Where's mom?"

Daisy's face remained impassive. "She's on the Penrose. Resting."

"She's dead, isn't she?" Tulip barked, gritting her teeth.

The eldest Ara frowned. "...please keep your voice down. The others mustn't hear."

"Why?" Tulip said, pulling the robe up fractionally. "You always do this. You, mom, and other 'seniors'." She frowned, staring into Daisy's eyes. "I'm a senior too, you know?" She growled, "I'm the second oldest of mom's children, dammit! Why doesn't anyone tell me anything!?" She slammed a fist against the wall by Daisy's head.

Daisy flinched, then frowned harder. "...you always had your own things going on, Tulip," she whispered. "Your own special interests. Gardening. Your model ships. We left you to it."

"That doesn't mean you had to leave me out of everything," Tulip said, a lump in her throat. Her fists, balled around the crimson fabric, shook. "I'm the pilot. Yet I'm seemingly the last one to find out when we're supposed to fly off somewhere." She sobbed, lowering her face. "Shouldn't I get involved in these discussions? Shouldn't I get told when mom is consorting with 'Dark Gods' and 'cultists'?"

She hadn't time to rehearse what to say, so Daisy said nothing. She reached out and stroked Tulip's cheek.

"...is she in hell?" Tulip sobbed, falling into her sister and hugging her around the torso. "Is mom in hell? Tell me, Daisy, please!"

Daisy rubbed Tulip's back. "...no...that's not what her deal with Vashtorr is about," Daisy whispered, shaking her head. "She sacrifices other people to the daemon. With every murder, another step closer to..."

"...Ariane..." Tulip whispered, nuzzling into Daisy's neck. "..."

The two were silent for a time.

"...is she just gone?" Tulip croaked, her body shaking. "Is mom just dead?"

"...for now," Daisy said, patting her sister on the back. Stroking her auburn hair. "The Dark Artificer won't let her die." She sighed, shutting her eyes. "He'll keep bringing her back, again and again, until her debt is paid. The debt higher each time."

Tulip sobbed, tears soaking into the crimson robe.

"..."

More silence.

"...what do we do now?" Tulip mumbled, a hand tracing the mechandendrites along Daisy's back.

"We wait," Daisy breathed. "Wait for mom to wake up. And keep flying. She told Dash to get us to the rendezvous point. We still need to trade the goods."

Tulip nodded, face buried in damp, crimson cloth. "...okay...I'll get us there," she croaked.

"And Tulip?"

"Yeah?"

Daisy pressed her cheek to the top of her sister's head. "I'm sorry for not keeping you informed. I'm sorry we never told you anything. I'll...do better from now on."

Tulip hugged her sister harder.

"...thank you..."

 

"Are you...sure, sweetie?"

Petunia nodded, staring sadly down at the parts in her lap. "Please," she said, maintaining a neutral expression. "I just...can I be alone for a while?"

Trinity frowned, pressing a hand to her chest. "...is this about your injury? Does it hurt?"

A hand clapped on her shoulder. She flinched.

"...let's...give her some space, yeah?" Double Tap said, threading her fingers through the Eule's auburn hair.

"...alright," Trinity said, placing a hand on the Star's arm. She allowed herself to be turned away. "Just...if you need anything, you have your radio. Okay?"

Petunia nodded. "Yes," she said, glancing up.

"We love you," Trinity said.

"Love you too," Petunia said, forcing a smile.

Before exiting the infirmary, Double Tap looked over her shoulder. Glanced at the Ara. Unable to get a read on her lover, as usual. She turned away, and kept walking.

Lovers absent, Petunia sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. Rubbed the flat surface. With feminine chest pieces at an eternal premium, especially for Ara sizes, ones with ports for drain tubes were made from the plentiful masculine variants. Her fingers traveled down, to trace the edge of the port hole, and the line of the plastic tube. She leaned over, to look for the fiftieth time that morning at the trickle of scarlet liquid that collected in a bag hanging from the bed's side.

Tiny rituals that occupied her racing mind. Kept from thinking about...

Petunia shook her head. She looked down, hands playing with the metal before her. She needed a proper task.

She arranged the mechanical pieces in her lap, and the tools on the blanket beside her. Turned the large piece over in her hands. Then back up.

The Ara stared into the replika skull face plate, fingers scratching nervously at the painted metal. Looked into its empty sockets. She thought once more about death.

She shook her head, and picked up the small hover modules. Attached them to the servo skull's chassis.

 

"I heard mom died during that raid."

"Oh Empress! That can't be true, could it? They'd tell us if she..."

"Not if they thought it would cause a panic. Or if we end up falling apart."

"That's no excuse! T-they have to tell us! It's mom!"

"How could mom die? She's..."

"Invincible? I heard from Daisy once. Mom built her partly just to fix a kink in her back. Elster is just as mortal as the rest of us."

"It doesn't feel real."

"Welcome to my head."

The replikas sat huddled at a table, whispering. They peeked at another table.

Sally sat down, staring forlornly at her tray. She didn't eat.

"Sally would know, wouldn't she?"

"She was on the mission."

"She was manning the shuttle. Would she know what happened on that other ship?"

"Sally would know if mom...died...in transit."

"Should we ask her?"

"What if she was told not to say?"

"Dammit, we're Elster's kids too! We deserve to know!"

Bang.

The replikas froze, looking over.

Both of Sally's hands were smacked flat on the table. Head bowed, the Eule pushed herself to her hooves.

"I can hear you, you know," Sally said darkly, side-eyeing the group.

The gossipers flinched.

Sally shuddered, scowling. She sobbed, then bolted.

"..."

"...okay, that definitely means mom is dead, and Sally knows."

"Shut up!"

 

"You definitely know."

Jenny turned away, pressing an oversized stuffed animal to her chest. "I...don't know what you're..."

Rose slammed a fist on Jenny's chest. "Don't lie to me! Chicory told me what they were talking about in the workshop!"

The Mynah looked Rose in the eyes. "Rose. You can't hit me like that. That was bad." Her voice was hard.

The Ara flinched, looking away sheepishly. "...I-I'm sorry..." She frowned, looking up. "But that doesn't mean you can lie to me!"

Jenny sighed, shutting her eyes. "Sit down, Rose," she said softly.

Rose took a seat beside Jenny on the oversized bed. She huffed, picking up another stuffed animal from the pile and hugging it.

"...what did Chicory hear?" Jenny said, looking sideways at the Ara.

"That mom got zapped by a Mechanicum lightning gun," Rose said, placing her chin on the head of a stuffed rabbit. She brushed a long lock of red hair behind her ear. "That she died. And now she's on the Penrose. Chicory also heard something about Dark Gods." She side-eyed Jenny. "We're not going to perform a replika sacrifice to some netherborn creatures, to bring mom back as a zombie...are we?"

The Mynah giggled sadly. "Where did you come up with that? That's silly. There's no such thing."

Rose puffed her cheeks. "Bullshit! Everyone on the bridge during our encounter with that space marine ship knows they took all that talk seriously enough to give us audience with their leader!"

Jenny sighed. "Some people are just silly," she said. "Sometimes, those people wield incredible political and military power."

"You're not fooling me," Rose said, narrowing her eyes. "What's actually going on?"

The Mynah swallowed, looking at the floor. Eye settling on the power axe leaning against the bed, waiting to be mounted on the wall as a trophy. "It's...not my place to say," she said. "Please understand that."

Rose groaned, looking down at her hooves.

"...the others aren't going to be so understanding."

 

"Daemons? Dark Gods? Seriously?"

"Those space marines seemed to believe it."

"Daemons aren't real. They can't be. That stuff's fantasy."

"So are psychics. And yet we've got multiple telepaths aboard, with more on the way."

"I saw Shahrazad rolling on the floor yesterday. Babbling in tongues."

"What was she saying?"

"It didn't make any sense. Talking about returning, and traitors."

"Could she be possessed?"

"Maybe it was Elster? They're saying she died. Could it be her spirit, trying to talk to us?"

"Maybe it's the daemon."

"Stop! Please! I don't want to hear this! Daemons aren't real!"

"What if they are, though? What if mom made a demonic pact, and..."

"La la la! I'm not listening!"

 

"Rue has been in the vents since yesterday. She's not coming out."

The Ara stood in the middle of the meditation room. To either side, her Kolibri siblings reclined on cushions, exhausted.

Circe nodded, stroking Hippolyta's new arm, that held her tight in her lap. The Kolibri blinked, rubbing the bags under her eyes. "...I can go talk to her."

"Leave her be," Hippolyta said, stroking Circe's hair. "You're still not well enough to go crawling around in the vents. Rue will come out when she wants to." She sighed, shutting her eyes. "Some of us, especially the Aras, just need time. Time and room to breathe. We all do."

Circe huffed, reclining into her lover. She shut her eyes. "...continue, baby. I can sense something else is on your mind."

Myrtle swallowed, crossing her arms. "...I talked to Sally," she said. "She won't reveal what happened, even to me. But whatever it was, it's tearing her up inside."

"We can't keep this secret up forever, mom," Isis mumbled, raising her head over the lip of a pillow. "They're already talking."

"We don't need to," Circe mumbled, nuzzling into Hippolyta's bicep. "It'll resolve itself soon, I think."

"Is Elster dead?" Myrtle said, frowning. "Is this 'Vashtorr' really a daemon? Is she going to come back to life?" She stomped her hoof on the soft floor. "Come on, mom! This is driving us all up a wall!"

"Just...wait a couple more days, baby," Circe said, peeking one eye open. "Elster will be back."

"This is breaking their trust in you, you know?" Myrtle said, soberly. "Their trust in Elster. Their trust in this whole operation. They have no idea what's going on, and none of the rumors are helping. Even if mom does return, they won't trust her again."

"What do you expect us to do, Myrtle?" Circe moaned, rubbing her face. "My head still hurts from that astropathic clusterfuck."

"Do some expectation management, for one," Myrtle said. "Giving them no information just means they're left to their own devices. To stew in emotions until it all boils over. Half of them think mom is dead and gone. Half think she's consorting with the devil. Some even think she's fucked off and abandoned us." The Ara frowned. "We need something. Anything. Hearing nothing isn't working, and it might destroy this family."

Shahrazad, eyes pressed into a pillow, raised a finger blindly. "She's right."

"I know she's right, Shah," Circe groaned, turning over to press her face into Hippolyta's chest. "None of us are good managers. At least not of people. We're all just...winging it. Even Elster could barely hold us together."

"Heh," Hippolyta chuckled, stroking Circe's hair. "It says something that Elster, the introvert, has been the social glue of this whole operation. Without her, we fall apart."

"We're falling apart because there's been no communication," Myrtle said, huffing.

Shahrazad peeked a bleary eye up from the pillow. "...I think I have an idea. I need time to ponder it."

"Well, it needs to be soon. Or we're finished." Myrtle pulled the spiral goggles up on her face, so she could look serious. "The crew need to be informed. Or they'll end up doing something they regret."

 

"Positively ghastly."

Diodana pulled her metal finger away from the glass. "We're certain this is the Arkifane's doing?"

"Who else could it be?" Dash said, shrugging. She slumped on the storage container, looking at the pod.

Silver nematodes crawled over the interior of the calibration pod. Including on Elster herself. They glided, quicksilver like, over the replika's face, across synthetic skin, into every crack and crevice. One slid impudently under the replika's eyelid, disappearing.

"I can think of one other party in close proximity," Diodana said. She turned her head, four photo-receptors eyeing the door of Maintenance. "Mayhaps the Daemon Engine is working some foul artifice."

Now hang on, came Mik'hul's voice across the ether. I wouldn't do this work for free, understand? Tzeentch is offering a quick, clean resurrection, at a cut-rate price of one soul. Not...whatever this is. Come on, granny. You can't trust the Dark Artificer with this tech-heresy, can you?

"Begone from my mind, daemon!" Diodana cried, waving a metal hand. She walked towards the door. "I have seen all I wish, and satisfied my sentimental obligations. Whatever evil wrought by Vashtorr, it appears to be working. I must return to my work. Omnissiah help us all. Most of all LSTR-512."

The door slid open before Diodana approached.

"Oh! Sorry!" Vanessa said, side-stepping to allow Diodana to pass. "...h-how is she?" the Eule said, looking over at the retreating tech priest.

"Tainted by tech-heresy most foul, but otherwise intact," Diodana said. "I must meditate and inhale incense, to clear my mind." She looked over her shoulder. "...good day to you, EULR-N0601."

Vanessa swallowed, then nodded. "Likewise."

The door slid shut behind the Eule as she entered. She pulled aluminum cans from her leather satchel. They bore labels depicting skyscrapers jutting from bright blue seas. "Are you sure she needs this? Meryl gave me weird looks when I took them from the pantry."

Dash shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't know. Elster just said one time that she wasn't wholly sure the...worms...could fully fix her, without enough raw materials to reconstruct with." She waved vaguely at the pod. "Maybe some aluminum and Vinetan cod would do the trick?"

Vanessa frowned, looking down through the glass. She shuddered. "Ngh! Freaky!"

"I know, right?" Dash said, looking down at the floor.

The Eule looked at the Star. Saw the drained look on her face.

"...Dash...have you slept at all since it happened?" Vanessa asked, placing the cans on the ground next to the pod.

"...yeah..." Dash said, glancing up. "I got some shuteye last night. I didn't sleep well, but I slept."

"Did you at least sleep in the bunk upstairs?" Vanessa said, pointing a thumb to the ceiling. "That's what it's there for."

"The bunk is there so a bright-eyed Nation patriot can sleep, while they unknowingly wait to die slowly over the course of years," Dash said, staring at the grated floor. "...I don't know how enthusiastic about the Nation I am, since Elster gave me that lecture."

"Did you, or did you not, sleep in the bunk?" Vanessa said, placing hands on her hips.

"...I napped in here, on the floor," Dash admitted, rubbing her arm.

"Dash!" Vanessa said, rubbing her temple. She looked the Star up and down. Sniffed the air. "Ugh...you haven't bathed either, I see. Or smell, rather. Have you at least eaten something that isn't fucking Militia rations?"

"I went downstairs to eat, yes," Dash groaned, face-palming. "I've been outside this room a little since..." She looked at the ceiling, dragging the hand down her face. "...has it been a day?"

"It's been TWO days, Dash," Vanessa said, huffing. "Did Daisy have to make you leave?"

"Someone needs to be on shift," Dash mumbled, crossing her arms. "In case mom wakes up."

Vanessa sighed. She frowned. "...so you're finally calling Elster 'mom', huh? Took you long enough."

"It's super unprofessional, but...yes." The Star sighed, tucking her legs against her chest. "...it...slipped out...when she got..." She frowned.

"...I'm sorry," Vanessa said. She walked over and sat beside the Star. Placed a hand on Dash's shoulder. "Look, how about I take over here, and you go back down. Take a shower, change clothes, get something to eat. Talk to your girlfriend. Samantha's been worried sick about you." She gave a small smile. "Maybe change into your regular legs."

"I can do that last one later," Dash mumbled, giving a small smile of her own. "There's no rush." She sighed, then stood up. "But thanks." She patted the Eule's shoulder. "Are you...going to be okay up here? You won't be bored?"

Vanessa shook her head. She fished into her satchel. "I've got my knitting," she said, pulling a partially formed piece, made of black and red yarn, held together by knitting needles. "I'm making something for mom, for when she...wakes up." She frowned.

Dash nodded. "Sounds good," she said. "I'm sure she'll like it." The Star stretched, turning around. "Hnn...I'll let Daisy know, so she can relieve you."

"Hey Dash?" Vanessa said.

"Hmm?"

Vanessa, clutching her knitting needles, stared down at the ground. "...are we...sure mom will come back?"

"What do you mean?" Dash asked, rubbing the back of her neck. "The worms mean something is happening. What else could it mean?"

"What if it's an unrelated infection, like from space? Or some...space marine or Mechanicum weapon, like with nanomachines?" Vanessa frowned, looking at the pod. "What if they're just going to eat mom? And then there won't be anything left to revive? Or what if Vashtorr is tired of mom, and lets her stay dead? Or..."

"Van," Dash said, holding up her hands. "Relax. It's going to be fine. We just have to...trust the process." She turned around, then glanced over her shoulder. "I'll see you later."

"Right," Vanessa said, looking at the floor. "See you later."

When the Maintenance door slid open and shut again, Vanessa frowned. Alone with her thoughts.

And his thoughts.

I mean really, can you actually trust Vashtorr? Can you truly trust his process? Cause if you ask me, the process looks grody as hell. Who uses worms, I ask you?

"Please..." Vanessa said under her breath, clutching her knitting needles. "Stop it."

How can you trust a guy you've never met?

"Stop..." Vanessa whimpered, shivering. "No more."

But you know me, little lady. 'Honest Mik'hul', that's what they call me in Daemon Land, Mik'hul lied. Didn't I look like a face you could trust? All several of them?

Vanessa dropped her needles, clutching her head. "Get out of my head!" she gasped, clasping her eyes shut. "I don't want this! Please!"

Hsss.

"Vanessa?"

The Eule's eyes shot open. She looked up, hands loosening from where they tugged on her straw-colored hair. "...Daisy?"

The Ara blinked, walking over. "Are you okay?"

Vanessa stared. Words wouldn't come.

Tell her you're fine.

"I'm...fine..." Vanessa mumbled, blinking.

Tell her you're just tired.

"I'm...just tired, is all," Vanessa said, slumping down on the container. "Everything is...so much..." She rubbed fingers into her scalp, grimacing.

Daisy blinked, then forced a smile. "I see," she said. She walked across the room, stopping to study Elster's pod. "...they're really going at it, I see."

Vanessa nodded, a bead of sweat pouring down the back of her head. "Y-yeah..." she mumbled.

"Knitting?" Daisy asked, as she walked over to sit on another storage container.

"Y-yeah," Vanessa said, reaching down and picking up her work. She gripped the needles again.

"Good," Daisy said, nodding. She pulled a set of tools and an in-progress repair job out of her own bag, setting it beside her. "It's important to stay busy. It helps channel the restless energy, and avoid fixating on...intrusive thoughts."

Vanessa nodded, staring at the yarn.

I'll leave you two alone for a while, Mik'hul thought. You don't need to burden her with this. It'll be our little secret.

The Eule gulped, forcing herself to start knitting. Her fingers vibrated with each stitch.

When you're ready, come see me. We can get the tedious paperwork filled out.

Vanessa screamed internally.

Chapter 45: The Veil Phalls Away

"Still feeling down?"

Ariane nodded, rubbing her head. She took her lover's hand. "Yeah," she said, letting herself be pulled into sitting position. "The headache is less...but I had a bad dream last night."

Elster sat beside the gestalt. "Sorry to hear that," she said, frowning. "What was it about?"

The gestalt sighed, crossing her arms. "...I was walking on a path," she said, shutting her eyes to concentrate. "It was lined with...ugh..." She shuddered.

"What?" Elster said, rubbing Ariane's thigh.

"...crucified people, I think," Ariane said, frowning. "Or...something like it. They were nailed to beams in long rows. They moaned in pain and confusion." She hugged herself, giving a pained expression. "I wanted to help them, but...I couldn't reach them..."

Elster rubbed Ariane's back. "It's okay, Ari," she said. "It was just a dream." She smiled. "I'm sure they appreciated you tried, though."

Ariane sank her face in her hands. She sighed. "...I know I was following you, Ellie," the gestalt said. She looked up, staring in space. "You were grave-robbing. Pulling the heart from a giant."

The replika froze, pursing her lips. "..."

"Then, as if some god were angry at you," Ariane said, looking down at her hands, "you got struck my lightning and died." She sobbed, rubbing her eye.

Elster hugged the gestalt, pulling her close. "Shh," she said, stroking her lover's white hair, "it's alright. It was just a dream." She kissed Ariane's cheek, and squeezed her hand. "See? Do you feel me? I'm right here."

Ariane sniffed, burying her face in Elster's neck. "...yeah..." She smiled, leaning her head back to kiss Elster's chin. "I shouldn't get so worked up over dreams," she chuckled, shutting her eyes and resting herself against the replika. "They're not real."

The replika kissed Ariane's forehead. She patted the gestalt's head.

Elster stared into space, frowning.

---

"Gottverdammt, Dash!"

"Hghn!" Dash grunted, back slamming against a metal wall. She winced, feeling the angry hands clutching her shoulders. She looked up, gritting her teeth.

Double Tap scowled down at her from her high perch. Her elder still hadn't bothered to change her legs back. "Petunia told me what happened!" she barked. "Did you think we wouldn't find out? Huh?"

Kite clapped a hand on Double Tap's shoulder. "Come on, D.T., calm down," she said, frowning.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Double Tap barked, looking over her shoulder. She looked back down. "Mom is fucking dead! And Dash is hiding it from us!"

"It's not like that, D.T.," Dash said, frowning. She lightly touched her sister's wrist.

"Then what is it like, Dash!?" Double Tap yelled, banging the elder Star against the wall a second time. "When were you or anyone else going to fucking explain?"

"Yeah!" cried another replika nearby.

"Tell us, Dash!" said still another.

"Is mom really dead?"

"Why can't we see her? Aren't we owed some fucking closure?"

A mob of replikas formed around the huddle of Stars. Irate, confused, on the verge of violence or tears. Wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"Shit..." Kite mumbled, looking around. "This is getting out of hand."

"Well, Dash?" Double Tap said, scowling. "What's it going to be?"

STOP.

Everyone froze. They looked around, then up.

Everyone, report to the cafeteria, Circe thought, to the entire ship. We're going to talk about Elster.

 

"What's taking so long?"

The Stars sat at a table, side by side. Dash was squished between Double Tap and Kite, who wouldn't let their (currently) short older sister escape. She frowned, looking sideways at Double Tap, who scowled.

Adler stood in the usual spot for announcements. Hands clasped behind his back. "We will wait until everyone is present before beginning, Double Tap," he said, calmly.

Slowly, the room filled up. Every month, the cafeteria seemed a little more crowded. Even meals were commonly broken up into multiple consecutive blocks, to reduce crowding and put less strain on kitchen staff. The ship's population, while reduced slightly after the round of drop-offs prior to departing Eusan, was only set to explode in the coming days.

Assuming the entire company didn't implode before then.

Benches at each table were quickly occupied. Then, the back of the room started to fill up with standing replikas. The air filled with the dull roar of conversation. Diodana was in attendance, sitting at a table alongside a dozen Aras. Even Rue sat among them, knees pressed to her chest. Wincing from sensory overload.

Finally, the Kolibri arrived, along with Hippolyta.

"Is this everyone, present and accounted for?" Adler said, looking sideways.

"Aside from Daisy and Vanessa, yes," Circe nodded. "They're up in the Penrose. They already know, and it's not prudent to wait any longer."

"Hey!" called STCR-N0602, standing at the back of the room. She and her younger sister towered over the crowd, scowling. "Can we get this started? What's going on?"

"Yeah!" Double Tap said, sitting up. Her hand still firmly planted on Dash's shoulder. "Where's mom? We deserve to know!"

The room exploded with shouts mirroring this sentiment. It was a discordant mess, deafening. Replikas rising to their hooves, pounding tabletops. Several were already weeping, preemptively succumbing to the sorrow of the terrible news they expected for days now.

QUIET!

Circe raised a hand, enforcing a cession of noise through a gentle, but firm, exertion of bioresonance.

The noise petered out, as replikas flinched or shrank down. Several ducked down into sitting positions. Many gasps were heard. Many shook violently, hugging themselves. Staring wide-eyed in fear and disquiet.

For virtually everyone in the room, this was their first real experience with a Kolibri enforcing compliance. Their first taste of what their diminutive cousins could do, when they put their psychic hooves down. Like the first time a child heard a parent shout, but in their own minds.

"Thank you," Circe said, nodding. She looked sideways. "Adler, the microphone and box, if you please."

Adler, himself shaken, mastered himself and stood up straight. "Of course." He walked to a wall and brought forward a storage container. Placed it in the position of honor, then pulled a microphone from his belt.

"Thank you, Adler," Circe said, taking the mic.

To everyone's surprise, she handed it to Shahrazad.

"Eh?" Double Tap said, raising her eyebrows. She finally mustered the courage to speak again. "Wait, it's Shah who's speaking?"

"Yes," Circe nodded. She motioned to Hippolyta, who helped Shahrazad onto the container. "Shahrazad will be leading this one. Please bear with us."

The momentary shock of bioresonance wore off. The crowd began, cautiously, to whispered among themselves. Not too loudly, lest it test the Head Navigator's patience again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"A-achtung," Shahrazad said, into the mic. Her voice rang out from the speakers positioned in the corners of the room behind her. "May have I your attention please?"

She waited until the room went quiet.

Shahrazad inhaled. Exhaled. "...I will now tell you a story."

She pointed to one replika in particular, in the back of the room. "Yes, really," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I am, in fact, going somewhere with this. Settle down."

The replika, put on the spot, shrank in her seat. Blushed, lips pursed.

The Kolibri nodded. "As I said, I'm here to tell a story," she said. "It is the best way I know to explain what is happening, and why." Her eyes scanned the room, looking into the eyes of her crowd. "It is Elster's story. Know, up front, that this is NOT a eulogy." She raised a finger for emphasis.

"It is not a eulogy. We are not here to mourn her. Because while, yes, she is dead..." She permitted waves of horror to flow out, before continuing, "...she will not stay dead." She let the confusion wash over them. "Because Elster, mother of us all, has died many times before."

She let the crowd's hearts, and then mouths, burst open with emotion. Shock. Shahrazad looked to the side, gesturing. "Adler. If you please."

Adler nodded, already standing at attention next to the wall. He raised a hand, and turned the dimmer switch all the way counterclockwise.

The crowd, a bustle with chatter, shushed itself to silence, as the cafeteria was plunged into twilight. Only the light filtering in from the corridors and kitchen remained.

Shahrazad, silhouette visible by distant light, raised her hands. "Let us begin." She snapped her fingers.

High above them, the dark ceiling became darker still. Supernaturally dark. Those quick on the draw realized it for a trick of perception, a flex of bioresonance. The rest realized it when the deep, bottomless dark arching above was broken by pinpricks of light. Appearing individually, at first, then all at once. The light filtering in from other rooms melted away, until the dark all around them became absolute, broken by a steady blossoming of tiny lights.

Many in the crowd gasped, as their eating area was suddenly a planetarium. Or as if the walls of the Nomarch melted away, revealing the infinite sphere of the heavens all around them.

Shahrazad, still lit by unseen lights, raised a hand. "Once upon a time," she said, "there was a ship."

In the air above her, a vessel appeared. Those who had left the Nomarch recognized it immediately. For it was very much alike to that which clung to their home's roof, like a male angler fish to its mate.

"The Penrose 512 sailed through space, sent forth by the Eusan Nation, to explore the stars," Shahrazad said. The stars slowly moved past the ship, granting it the illusion of movement. "On it, there were two women."

Ghostly images arose over the ship. "One, gestalt Scout Officer Ariane Yeong." A white haired woman appeared, looking in the direction of the ship's movement. "The other, replika engineer LSTR-512." A very familiar woman appeared, behind the gestalt, looking backwards. An undersized hat atop her head.

The crowd gasped. Many a muttering of "mom!" came out.

"One wanted nothing more than to escape a world that did not understand her," Shahrazad said, motioning to the gestalt. Then, to the replika. "The other, troubled by a past she couldn't fully remember. For it was not wholly her own."

The two figures, slowly, turned to glance at each other. Then, they extended arms and joined hands.

"In time," Shahrazad said, "they grew to know each other."

The figures pulled in, joining hands fully.

"In time," she said, as the figures leaned in, "they fell in love."

The room practically exploded, as the two figures kissed.

"For many years, they were happy." The two figures began to dance. Waltzing over and around their tiny craft hanging in the void. They smiled, eyes only for one another. Elster lifted her arm, allowing Ariane to twirl, before embracing her again.

The audience was rapt.

Shahrazad's frown was hidden by darkness. "It was not to last."

As the dance went on, the gestalt's hair lengthened. While at first, it only added to the beauty of their waltz, the dance began to slow. The two lovers shared one last kiss, before Ariane was struck by a silent coughing fit.

The replika reached out, concerned, before she clutched her chest in pain.

"Their Nation was faithless, callous, and cruel," Shahrazad said. "The Penrose mission existed only to prove their might as an interplanetary power. The vessel they wrought was not meant to either last, nor return. Like countless other crew on Penrose ships much like their own, Ariane and Elster were expected...to die."

The energy in the room soured, as replikas watched in horror as the figures fell enfeebled into each other's arms.

"But they refused. Refused to submit quietly to death."

Forcing themselves up, the two figures clasped shaky hands together and stubbornly continued their waltz. The pace slow, plodding. Their faces, wracked with pain, kept solidly on one another.

Members of the crowd began to shake and shudder. Lovers embraced one another, in sympathetic pain.

"The will to live has its price. And their home - their flying tomb - carried a poisoned heart. If they would not die quickly, they would be murdered slowly."

The figures melted away. The stars winked out, one by one. Plunging the room again into darkness.

"They did everything they could to hold on. But their ship, their bodies, the very air they breathed turned against them."

A new scene melted in from the shadows. The replika stood over a cryogenic pod, into which she placed the now painfully bedraggled gestalt. Body covered in cuts and sores, fingers turning black.

"Elster consigned her love, like Sleeping Beauty, to a long slumber in a coffin of glass. They made a promise. That if the pain of living, of dying, became too great, she would return to release her love."

The two kissed, before Elster consigned Ariane to the pod. It closed upon her lover.

Members of the crowd began to weep. Sobbing, quietly or loudly.

"But it was too late for Elster."

Elster stepped away, walking one, two, three paces. She grimaced, clutching her chest. Sank to her knees, and puked scarlet.

Gasps in the room. Horror.

"Her body, especially susceptible to the poison, succumbed." A lump formed in the Kolibri's throat.

The replika sank to the ground, leaning on her lover's coffin. She collapsed, scarlet blossoming across the black abyss like red wine in water.

"This...was the first time Elster died."

Elster's body rolled off her perch on the pod, and fell through the puddle of scarlet. She sank, through the scarlet, through the dark. Scarlet clung to her limbs, trailing up as the pod rose up out of view. Eventually, the replika settled on the bottom of a dark abyss.

"It was not, and will not be, her last."

Elster choked, sitting up violently. She crawled to her hooves. Hands pawed the ground, pulling a pistol from the black silt of the ocean floor.

"She was no longer in the realm of the living. Whether the hereafter, or some dying dream, she knew not. All she knew was she could not tarry. Ariane was waiting. Elster had to keep her promise. Even death would not stop her."

Panting, heaving, the replika ran. Rising up. Dashed through halls that materialized from the shadows.

"But she was not alone."

Elster stopped, looking around. Reacting to some unheard noise in the suffocating dark. Raised her pistol. Aimed. A silent gunshot, a flash lighting up the space around her.

In the split second of illumination, the crowd saw Elster surrounded by bright-eyed, disfigured horrors. Horrors lunging with weapons drawn.

Someone in the room shrieked, as total darkness resolved over the scene.

"Perhaps," said Shahrazad, "it was hell."

Terrified breathing, muttering, cursing. Replikas that once held each other out of sorrow or heartache, now held each other from fear, and dread.

A new scene materialized. A pile of corpses, swathed in darkness. Sitting at the base of a staircase, leading up to a free-standing rectangular gate, set against a blood-red sky.

The pile stirred. A hand erupted from it. Then, a whole person. Elster, dripping in gore and clad in armor, staggered to her hooves. Cadavers falling away around her. She clutched her side, and slowly scaled the staircase.

"Fate, like the Nation, was callous, and cruel."

Elster rose, one step at a time, before crossing the threshold. Disappeared into the red mist.

"Even when, despite all odds, she won...she still lost."

Again, the pile of corpses stirred. Again, a hand erupted out. Again, Elster crawled from the charnel mound. Again, she scaled the stairs. Again, she disappeared.

Members of the crowd, already horrified, gasped.

"Elster made many choices. Sometimes, she abandoned Ariane."

Elster climbed from the mound. Scaled the stairs. Disappeared.

"Sometimes, she reached her, only for her love to not remember that promise Elster so dutifully recalled. To not remember Elster's face, or her own name."

Elster climbed from the mound. Scaled the stairs. Disappeared.

"Sometimes, Elster fulfilled her role as mercy angel. Mantled Death itself."

Elster climbed from the mound. Scaled the stairs. Disappeared.

"Over. And over. And over. Whatever she did, it never worked."

A panoply of Elsters rose from the mound, dragging themselves up the stairs. Many collapsed on the way, expiring where they fell. Bodies rolled back down, adding to the pile. Or merely lay where they died, until the stairs were just an extension of the mound. Each Elster climbing over the last, until the ground was thick with...

"Please! Stop!" cried a Eule, clapping hands over her eyes. "Make it stop!"

The scene blinked out. Leaving only blackness.

"Sorry. I got carried away." Shahrazad scratched the back of her head.

There was great weeping in the room now.

"But yes, it did stop. Because even Elster had her limits."

The pod again. Ariane's glass coffin. It opened up. Elster, wounded and worn, walked in from the darkness. She kissed Ariane, the gestalt feeble and delirious.

"She tried, one last time, to end it."

Elster reached out, making to strangle her lover. Oxident poured from her vacant eye socket.

"But she couldn't."

Elster pulled away, crying.

"Soon, the urge began to swell. To curse the gods, and cry out for someone, anyone, who could deliver them from their torment."

Silently, Elster screamed into the yawning abyss above her. Banging her chest and barring her teeth. Mouthing curses and pleas.

"That...is when he found her."

The room trembled, as Elster was illuminated from above by a horrid orange light. She panicked, and held Ariane in her arms.

"If it was hell, then this was the Daemon."

Above them both, first one, then two, then three fiery holes appeared in the darkness. The entire room felt the heat radiating from them, as if it were real.

"The Daemon's name is Vashtorr, the Arkifane. Dark Artificer, and Master of the Soul Forges."

The suggestion of a face, distorted and horrible, resolved itself around the burning holes. Gaunt cheeks, noseless, curving horns. The being looked down at Elster maliciously. Hungrily.

Screams in the room. Some replikas briefly tried to run from the room, only to be grabbed and held by others, who whispered in their ears that everything would be okay. That it was merely a vision.

"In truth, the daemon watched Elster for a long time. Watched her suffer. Watched her struggle. Waiting for when she was most desperate for aid. In this moment, he offered it."

Unfurling before her eyes, a contract writ in blood and oil, on human vellum. It hung in the air like a foul specter, or an ill-omened star. The replika clutched her lover tightly.

"Vashtorr promised to heal her, and Ariane. Grant them new life. Freedom from their hell, from the endless recursion of blighted time. So they could be together again. In exchange, Elster would do the Arkifane's bidding, and heap the bodies high in his name. To supply the Soul Forges with their eponymous currency, until such time as her debt was paid. Only then, would Ariane be free."

Replikas in the room whispered to each other, or balked in horror.

Elster plainly mirrored this horror on her face.

"She knew it was abominable. A sin most foul. To consign countless people to hell, just to extricate herself and Ariane from one. To put those people in their place. It would be a rank betrayal of the human species, of her blood. Nothing less than the basest treason. And, worse, it would mean breaking her promise."

Elster looked down at Ariane.

"But Elster loved Ariane. Loved her more than life itself. Loved her more than the sun and moon and stars in the sky. She loved her so much, she would even break an oath sworn to her."

Elster looked up Vashtorr. Then, slowly, reached for the quill that hovered before her.

"The Daemon chose his moment well. In truth, there was never going to be another outcome. Even before the choice was presented, Elster already made the decision in her heart."

"Don't do it!" a replika in the crowd shouted.

But as the enthralled replika was shushed down, Elster carried on, heedless. Dipped the quill in her own eye socket, and pressed it to parchment.

"Alas," said Shahrazad, "she cannot hear you. For this was long ago, and far away. And so many years ago."

L-S-T-R-5-1-2 she wrote, in big, bold, flaming letters. Finished with a flourish that sent sparks flying.

"It was done. The contract, and her fate, were sealed. Woe be unto all."

Elster bent low over Ariane, kissing her head as the sparks erupted into fire. The fire spread around them, a burning ring of fire. The figures sank down, as the flames rose higher. The daemon on high retreated into the darkness, as the inferno consumed all.

The crowd was silent, save the sounds of soft sobs.

"Held in bondage, even to this day, Elster fights the universe itself."

The flames fell away, dancing at the edge of a circle. From that circle, rose a new mound of bodies. A mound of Imperial soldiery, and Orks, and bandits, and even Space Marines.

But most prominant of all were the bodies of Elster herself.

"No one can sustain such a battle forever. No one can take all comers."

Atop the mound, revealed by smoke, a heavily wounded Elster cut down a Solar Auxilia officer with a long knife. In her other hand, a lasgun. Oxident dripped down her side, as she sagged, panting. Backlit in silhouette by the orange, flickering flames, Elster fell to her knees.

"No matter how careful. No matter how skilled. Elster will fall. It is inevitable."

Weapons dropping from her hands, Elster collapsed. The flames died down, until only cold embers and a pale moonlight remained. Illuminating the edges of the tableau of violence.

"The Daemon knows this. But he is callous, cruel, and true to his word."

By the pale moonlight, they come. Slowly, at first. Then, all at once. Silver worms that glinted cold.

Members of the audience, momentarily overcome with bleak sadness, recoiled in disgust. As the nematodes swarmed and slithered on and around Elster's darkened form.

"Vashtorr did not promise Elster a good time. He promised her a long time. A very, very long time. As many times as she needs."

Elster's shade writhed and jolted to life amid retreating worms, and staggered to her hooves. Gasping, staring at her hands, she stooped. Groping in the gore. She picked up her weapons again, and stood, swaying drunkenly.

"Elster will not rest. She will not stay dead. The Daemon will never allow it. Not until her debt is paid."

The shaded replika turned, and stomped slowly down the mound, out of view.

"She must cut, and shoot, and heap the dead high. Until it is done."

The mound rose, and the darkness deepened. Swallowing all.

"But in her dreams, she's back there."

Stepping out from the shadows and the mist, the two figures approach each other again. They extend their hands, pulling each other in.

"Even if only for a moment..."

The figures began to waltz.

"...Elster can see her love again. In her dreams, Elster and Ariane dance again."

The mists part, and the vault of heaven fills with points of light. The two figures dance on a mirror-like sheet of water, cool as the oceans of Vineta. So for all the world, they seem to dance in an infinite sea of stars.

"Waiting for the day when they can be together again in the waking world."

The scene faded, and with a wave of her hands, Shahrazad banished the darkness.

"Das Ende."

Blinking in the returned light, the replikas sat in stunned silence. Tears rolling down faces.

One by one, they began to clap.

Adler, in the corner, cranked the dimmer knob, gradually bringing light back to the room.

The room erupted into a standing ovation. Cheers and whistles and cathartic sobs.

Shahrazad, blinking away at the light, smiled. She bowed.

 

Wake up, girl.

Vanessa's eyes shot open. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. Checked her internal clock. It was early morning, by the Nomarch's (admittedly arbitrary) schedule.

Maintenance was still as the grave.

Good morning, sunshine, Mik'hul thought. You ready to get your mom back?

The Eule clutched the burgandy knit of her sweater, right above her heart. She looked sideways, gritting her teeth.

Daisy still slept, slumped over the workbench. A half-repaired part inches from her face, a screwdriver clutched in her hand.

Vanessa frowned. Rose to her hooves. She quietly crossed the room, abandoning her knitting and satchel.

She traced the edge of the calibration pod. Pressed a hand to her mouth, looking down. Glass, fogged on the inside from condensation. Her mother's vacant cadaver hidden from sight. Obscured like the future that bedeviled Vanessa's heart.

She looked at the door.

Vanessa grabbed a brown, wool blanket from atop a pile of boxes. Maintenance frequently got cold. A consequence of keeping Penrose 313's systems at minimal operation, to save on wear and tear. Elster kept the blanket around, for when the nights grew cold, and she was too busy to adjust the temperature.

The Eule sneaked to the workbench and gently draped it over Daisy.

Hugging herself, Vanessa walked to the door. Flinched as the door slid open. Looked over her shoulder. If Daisy heard it, she did not stir.

Vanessa crossed the threshold, and made for the ladder.

Unseen behind her, the silver nematodes retreated from the replika commander, their work complete.

Chapter 46: Phall & Get Up Again

"...just sign on the dotted line, and the knowledge of life and death will be yours."

The quill - pink and purple and blue - shook in Vanessa's hand.

"A fair trade, isn't it?" Mik'hul said, flagellum writhing towards the unfurled parchment sticking out of one of his mouths. "Trust me, little lady, you weren't using that soul anyway. Heck, if you play your cards right, Tzeentch might elevate you to the rank of Daemon Prince. Or, if you prefer, Daemon Princess."

The Eule gritted her teeth, tugging on a lock of straw-colored hair. "...please...I don't..." she breathed, shrinking down into herself.

"Sure you do!" Mik'hul said. "If anything, trading your soul in isn't a price. It's an investment in your eternity!" He smacked his lips, hungrily. "Plus, if you become a pretty Daemon Princess, you'll be powerful enough to protect them. All of them." The daemon moved a tentacle across one of his mouths, lowering his voice. "Between you and me, the boss can't protect you all forever."

Vanessa hugged herself, doubling over. "..."

"But you can," Mik'hul cooed. "With this, you can be the giver of life, and the dealer of death. A sorceress monarch, bringing your family back when they fall. What's not to love?" He chuckled, flailing his tentacles. "So how about it? Just sign!"

Her scalp hurt, from tugging. She chewed her lip. "...and that includes mom?"

"Sure, of course!" Mik'hul said. "Just sign the contract, and you'll have the knowledge to walk out of this room and perform the rite to bring her back. Easy peasy!"

Vanessa could barely hear the daemon's voice over her own heart. Let alone anything else.

She frowned, staring down at the quill in her hand. It dripped unnatural ichor from some internal reservoir.

"..." The daemon flinched, agitated. "W-well come on, girlie! We don't have all day! Time's a wastin'. You don't want your mom to rot any more! Sign the contract!"

The Eule clenched, trying to steady her trembling hand. She swallowed, nodding. "...a-alright..." she mumbled. Slowly, she walked forward, deliberately looking at the floor. Glancing up at the contract, to avoid looking at the throbbing mass of unreal flesh enmeshed with the wall.

"Come on, come on," Mik'hul sang, "think of all your sisters..."

Vanessa raised the quill, her whole body trembling.

"Come on, come on, your future with mommy!"

She extended her arm, nib poised over the parchment. Her mouth felt terribly dry.

"Come on, COME ON!" Mik'hul grunted, desperate. "I swear on all my pores..."

Vanessa gritted her teeth, turning her face away.

"...when it's done, the world will be yours! Yours!"

The Eule clapped her offhand over her face, and looked with one eye through splayed fingers.

Just as the nib was about to scratch the surface, her hand cramped up. "Ngh!" she grunted, retracting the quill.

"No, no, no!" Mik'hul whined, yellow eyes looking sadly. "We're so close!"

Vanessa grimaced, clutching her wrist. She hissed, struggling to hold the quill. "M-my hand..." she squeaked. "It hurts...it won't stop..."

"That's just the jitters, baby girl! It happens to the best of us!" Mik'hul lied.

He'd seen it before. A wholesome part of the soul, rebelling against the damnable treason the foolish mortal was about to enact. Those with ambition, desperation, conviction, or hope could usually power through it and sign. It was the doubting and the noble that so often had trouble.

"Come on, it's Right. There!" Mik'hul growled, tentacles pointing at the parchment. "The power is there for the taking! Just...do it!"

Vanessa swallowed dry, staring at her rebellious hand. A drop of ichor spilled out, splatting on the metal floor. "...okay..." she breathed, talking to herself. "...just...do it...and it'll be over..."

"Yes! Do it!" Mik'hul groaned, vibrating in his wall incandescently.

Vanessa extended her arm again. She winced, her hand cramping. Gritted her teeth. She gripped her wrist and pressed forward. The nib was poised over the parchment.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Mik'hul hissed through clenched teeth. "Sign!"

She was hyperventilating, wide-eyed. She clenched, the nib almost touching the contract.

"Hurry!" Mik'hul breathed, voice straining up an octave. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

Vanessa stopped. Pulled the nib away.

"Huh?" Mik'hul said, staring at her. "Why did you stop!?"

She looked the disgusting creature in the eyes.

"...why...do I need to hurry?" Vanessa said, sweating pouring down the side of her face.

The daemon vibrated, apoplectic with stress. "Grk, ngh..." He smiled. "No reason! It's nothing! You know, I just thought you'd want to get right to it! Can't keep mom waiting, right?" He seethed. "Now please sign!"

Vanessa blinked, pressing her free hand to her heart. "...is there...a problem?"

Mik'hul screamed silently. "...no..." he squeaked. "...it's nothing..."

The Eule blinked, then shut her eyes. "...okay..."

She extended her arm for a third time. As she neared the parchment, she peeked one eye open, to find the parchment.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes..." Mik'hul whispered, vibrating. His pupil-less eyes were trained on the quill. So. Very. Close. "...sssssssign iiiiiit..."

Entire body wound up like a clock. Vanessa shut her eyes, looking away.

Hsssss.

"Ah!" she squeaked. The Eule jumped, pulling her hand away in surprise. The quill, in anticipation, dripped another drop of ichor on the floor.

"...Vanessa?"

The Eule's heart skipped a beat. She froze, quill hanging in the air.

"Noooooo!" Mik'hul moaned, shutting all his myriad eyes. "No, no, no!"

She turned her body slowly. With bated breath, she turned her head, and looked.

"Come on!" Mik'hul cried, flailing his tentacles.

Vanessa's eyes went wide. She gasped.

The quill tumbled from her hand.

"Boooossss!" Mik'hul whined, shaking violently in his metal prison. "I was SO CLOSE!"

"...mom?"

Elster leaned against the doorway, tired body slumped on herself.

She smiled. "...hey baby..." she breathed.

Tears formed in Vanessa's eyes. "Mom!"

Her mother threw her arms out wide, as the Eule ran over and embraced her. Elster's arms wrapped around her. "Vanessa," she breathed.

"Aaaahhh!" Vanessa cried, sobbing into the red, silicone chest. She hugged her mother tight, hands balled into fists that pressed into the larger replika's back. "Mommy! Mommy!"

"Shh, shh," Elster cooed, stroking the Eule's straw-colored hair. "It's okay...it's okay...I'm here..."

Vanessa bawled. It took all her strength just to stay standing.

Mother and daughter stood there, embracing. The silence broken only by dry heaving, and gentle cooing.

"..."

Mik'hul seethed. "...that was a shitty thing to do, boss!" he growled. "I was just about to make a deal! I won it fair and square!"

Inhale. Exhale. "...you no doubt got it by lying to my baby about whether I'd come back from the dead," Elster said, eyes shut. She rubbed the Eule's back, smiling. "I trust Daisy and Dash both told her all about it."

"If you'd just've waited a little longer, like I told you," Mik'hul grumbled. "Gotten a snack, taken a piss. Maybe talked to your other kid down there!"

"Daisy needed her nap," Elster said, shrugging.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry," Vanessa mumbled, rubbing her face in Elster's chest. Clutching her mother's shoulders. "I didn't..."

"There, there," Elster cooed softly, petting the Eule's head. Tracing her long hair down. Rubbed her back. "It's okay. I forgive you. I'm sorry for leaving you. And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. It was wrong of me."

"Ngh!" Vanessa groaned, luxuriating in Elster's warmth.

Mik'hul grumbled to himself. As he was about to furl and swallow the contract, he paused. "...okay, okay, hear me out." He flailed his tentacles. "So I might have lied about the need to bring the boss back. But come on! Knowing life and death magic is pretty sweet, right?"

Elster frowned. Her rubbing hand slowed.

"The rest of your family could sure use that expertise, right?" Mik'hul continued. "I wasn't lying about that! The galaxy is a dangerous place! We can still make a deal, little lady! What do you say? One soul for..."

Elster snapped her eyes open. Glared at Mik'hul.

"Hck!" Mik'hul choked, freezing in place.

The replika commander stared daggers at the daemon.

"Mik'hul," she said, flatly. Her voice low and hard.

"...b-b-boss?" Iridescent sweat poured down his fleshly bits.

"If I find out you've roped one of my children into damnation," Elster said, narrowing her eyes, "I will personally carve 'Mik'hul the Stinky Loves Nurgle' seven hundred and seventy-seven times into solid stone. Then scatter these stones across seventy-seven plague-ridden planets."

Mik'hul flinched. "...n-no!"

"I will ensure that everyone who calls out for Grandfather Nurgle thinks of you when they pray for intercession," Elster said, stone-faced. "Until Reality itself thinks you're a Nurgle daemon. Ergo, turning you into one. Do you understand?"

Mik'hul's color-shifting flesh paled. "Y-you w-wouldn't! Y-you c-can't!"

Elster stared into Mik'hul's eyes. She held the image in her mind of Mik'hul as a green, decaying tangle of tissues. With sores that wept pus and the foulest odor summoned from deep within her memories of war. A thing not of ever-shifting change, magic, and fire. But of stagnation, disease, and rot. She held that mental image out, to where she knew he was mentally probing.

The daemon shivered, screeching in registers inaudible to humans. "...no, no, no, no, no! P-please, b-boss-s-s!" he stammered, flailing his tentacles. "Don't!"

"Do. You. Understand?" Elster said, boring a hole into him with her eyes.

"Yes!" Mik'hul cried, throwing his tentacles up. He quickly furled the contract up and swallowed it whole. "Guh. I give! I give! Please, boss, I was just doing my job! I can't help it! Wheeling and dealing is in my blood! You can't hold it against me, r-right?"

Elster permitted herself a small smile.

She looked down, pulling her daughter to the side. "You okay?" she said, arm around the Eule's shoulder.

Vanessa sniffed, rubbing her puffy eyes with the back of her burgundy knit sleeve. "Mmhmm..." she mumbled, nodding.

"Good," Elster said, smiling warmly. She stroked Vanessa's cheek. "Let's head back and wake Daisy up. Then, we can have..." She looked up, checking her internal clock. "...breakfast? Yes, breakfast. Then, we can go down to the Nomarch, and tell everyone else. That sound good?"

The Eule nodded, smiling. She rubbed Elster's hand against her cheek. "...yeah...that sounds good."

They turned to walk out the door, hand in hand. Before they went too far, Elster stopped.

She turned her head. "Oh, and Mik'hul?" Elster said, not looking at him.

"Y-yeah, boss?" Mik'hul said, shaking.

Elster's eye strayed down to the floor. "Clean up that disgusting thing, will you? It's making a mess." Her eye shot up, glaring at him.

"S-sure thing, boss!" Mik'hul said. He extended a yellow tongue, wrapping around the discarded quill and promptly popping it into one of his mouths.

Elster nodded, then lead her daughter away.

"...I was only doing my job, you know," Mik'hul sighed, biting down. The quill screeched, as it was chewed alive and swallowed.

 

Circe, are you awake?

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Oh thank the empress! Mom! Circe thought, hugging her mother telepathically. You're awake!

Yes, Elster thought, smiling. She ran the tap, washing her hands of egg gunk after she tossed the shells in the trash.

Elster! Isis thought, adding to the hug. You're alive!

She's back! She's back! Shahrazad thought, joining the huddle.

Okay, okay, I love you all too! Elster giggled. On the psychic plane, she hugged them all back. My precious hummingbirds.

In the material world, she patted the hands that physically hugged her midsection from behind. Daisy still refused to let go, silently clinging to Elster like...

Not a tick, obviously, Elster thought, looking at the ceiling. Baby possum, maybe?

...what? Isis thought.

Nothing, Elster thought, shaking her head. She picked up a whisk and starting beating the eggs. She smiled. If I knew I'd get this many hugs, I'd let myself die more often.

You will absolutely not! Circe thought, balking.

Agreed! No more dying! Isis thought, telepathically poking Elster in the cheek.

Elster laughed, rubbing her physical cheek. I make no promises.

Shahrazad whined. I don't want to have to tell the story again, she thought. The visuals were a lot of work.

"Daisy, honey, I love you," Elster whispered over her shoulder. "But can you sit down now? I'll hug you more after breakfast."

Reluctantly, Daisy nodded, then let go. Kissed Elster's cheek affectionately. She walked to the tiny Penrose mess hall table and sat down. Yawned, stretching sleepily.

Elster walked up beside Vanessa, who finished chopping baby tomatoes, spinach, and onions. "Ready?" Elster asked, holding out her mixing bowl.

"Yep," Vanessa nodded, wiping her brow with the back of her wrist. Her burgundy sweater sleeves were rolled up, and her straw-colored hair tied back. "Here you go," she said, sliding the veggies off the cutting board into the bowl with her knife.

"Thank you," Elster said, nodding. She mixed the veggies up into the eggs, then walked over to the burner. Poured the contents into the piping hot pan. It sizzled on contact, the liquid bubbling even as it started to solidify. Elster meticulously scraped the edge of the bowl with a silicone spatula, wringing ever last drop into the pan.

"I can handle the rest, if you want, mom," Vanessa said, placing the cutting board and knife in the sink.

"I can do it," Elster said. "Just mind the rice."

"It's a rice maker, mom," Vanessa said, crossing her arms and smiling wryly. "It practically cooks itself." She frowned. "Like...you just came back from the dead. Shouldn't you rest?"

"And you just had a stressful morning," Elster said, glancing over her shoulder. She probed the edge of the egg mixture, allowing runny liquid to flow into the gap and sizzle. "Not to mention you ALL had a stressful few days. Compared to that, I've just been sleeping." She laughed.

That's not funny, you know, Circe thought, mentally crossing her arms.

I know, Elster thought, exhaling.

Vanessa crossed her arms. "That's not funny, you know," she huffed.

"That's what Circe just said," Elster said, smiling.

"See? Circe agrees with me!" Vanessa said, gesturing with her hand. She looked over at Daisy. "Daisy, help me out here."

"With what?" Daisy said, snapping to attention from an internal reverie. She made to stand up. "Is there more cooking?"

"No, I mean help me convince mom to let ME cook for her," Vanessa said. She pressed fingers to her temple.

"Just let me do this, sweetie," Elster said. Probing the eggs further, she was satisfied with its cohesion. She slipped the spatula under and folded one third of the omelet over. "Meryl has been teaching me to cook, and I want to put it to practice. It's almost done anyway."

Ding.

"Oh!" Vanessa said, turning to the rice maker. She checked under the lid, letting steam dissipate. "I think this is ready."

"Good," Elster said, nodding. "Prepare the dishes."

"Okay!"

Elster folded the omelet again, flopping it onto the last third so it would seal itself. Nodding to herself, she said, "So...what's this I hear about Shahrazad telling a story?"

"Huh?" Vanessa said, pausing with her hands in the plate cabinet. "A story?"

Daisy sat up. "I didn't hear anything about that."

Shit, right, sorry, Circe thought, this time to all three of them. Van and Daisy were waiting with the pod all night, so they didn't get to see it.

"What was it?" Elster asked, pushing the omelet around on the pad. "...yeah, this is done," she muttered.

Most of the crew was getting really high strung about you...disappearing, with no explanation, Isis thought. It was getting around from people on the strike team that you'd died, but there was no confirmation either way.

I'm sorry, mom, Circe thought. We didn't do a good enough job controlling expectations.

Elster sighed, turning the burner off and removing the pan. "No, it's my fault," Elster said. "I kept my arrangement with Vashtorr a secret from almost everyone. And didn't put a good plan in place for how to handle messaging. Nor in how to...break it to everyone."

Well, you don't have to, Shahrazad thought, beaming a nervous smile. I...took care of that...

"Eh?" Vanessa said, eyes widening. She spilled too much rice on one plate. "Scheisse!" she muttered, scooping up rice with a spoon to redistribute.

"Oh, I see," Daisy said, nodding.

"What?" Elster said, looking back at Daisy. She looked up. "What did you do?"

I...told them a story, Shahrazad thought. Your story.

Elster blinked. "..."

As in, the whole thing.

"Eh?" Elster said, surprised.

Everyone knows, mom, Circe thought. About Vashtorr, about your deaths, about your time in hell, about the deal. The whole thing.

"..." Blink. Elster looked down at the pan. "...oh."

Vanessa held her hands up close to her chest. "...mom..."

I'm sorry, Elster, Shahrazad thought. I shouldn't have...

"No, no," Elster sighed, shutting her eyes. "It's fine. You don't have to apologize. It...needed to happen."

Everyone was silent.

"..."

The replika mother inhaled. Exhaled.

She stood up straight, turning. "Anyone, the eggs are done," she said, smiling. "Is the rice ready?"

"Y-yeah!" Vanessa said, exhaling. She gestured to the plates. Stepped aside, giving her mother room.

Elster took her place. Using the silicone spatula, Elster divided the omelet into three roughly equal chunks. Each of these was then deposited on top of a neat little mound of rice.

"One last ingredient," Elster said, opening the fridge. She pulled out a red bottle. Popping open the lid, she applied ketchup meticulously.

Vanessa looked over Elster's shoulder. "...wait, really?" she chuckled.

What is she...? Isis thought. ...oh!

Circe projected her facepalm. Oh empress...mom!

"If you feel jealous, 'libris," Elster said, smiling, "I'll make some for you tomorrow. How does that sound?"

Circe blushed. ...okay...

"And...done!" Elster cried, smiling. She picked up two plates. "Breakfast is ready!"

She carried her plates over, placing one in front of Daisy. Vanessa came over with her own, and sat down.

With all three dishes on display, Elster's cunning artifice was revealed: omelet covered rice, with crude drawings of the faces of their recipients drawn on with ketchup.

"...cute..." Daisy said, blushing. She cover her mouth with her hands.

"I know it's not true omurice," Elster said, handing out forks. "And I know my drawing skills leave something to be desired. But still, I hope you enjoy it."

Vanessa and Daisy stood up. Elster squawked, as the two hugged her at once. The Kolibris, sensing this, joined in telepathically.

"Ah! Hey!" Elster cried, giggling. She smiled. "Oh, you girls!" She laughed.

Then, she hugged them all back.

"...now get eating. The food is getting cold."

 

"Did anyone else have nightmares last night?"

Hippolyta shrugged. "I didn't sleep," she said, sticking a fork full of egg casserole into her mouth. "That Shah has one hell of an imagination."

Samantha hugged Dash. "...I'm sorry you were going through all that, honey," she said, closing her eyes.

"It's alright," Dash said, patting the Eule's head. "It's mom who suffered. I just..."

"Shh," Samantha said, nuzzling into her lover's neck. "Enough. You've had a bad time. You don't need to feel guilty."

Dash sighed, pressing her cheek against the top of Samantha's head. "I guess."

"Dash, if you want," Double Tap said, swallowing, "I could watch mom today. If you needed a break."

"Yeah, you were with her nonstop, right?" Kite said, stretching her arms over her head.

"Doesn't Petunia need you?" Dash said, hugging Samantha close.

"Pet said I needed to stop hovering," Double Tap said, scratching the back of her head. "She wanted some time alone, from both me and Trin." She shrugged.

"What's going to happen now?" Samantha said, playing with the hem of Dash's t-shirt. "With mom?"

Hippolyta shrugged. "We just wait until she wakes up, I guess," she said. "That, and keep flying to the edge of the system."

"I guess with those Imperial Fists fucking off," Kite said, cutting off a piece of casserole with the edge of her fork, "we don't want to stick around with the Iron Warriors. They might investigate the Serpens soon, and figure out their captain might have died of extra foul play."

"They wouldn't come after us, would they?" Samantha said, shrinking deeper into Dash's arms.

"Best not risk it by sticking around," Hippolyta said, crossing her arms. "Gotta get while the gettin's good."

"Ugh..."

Meryl staggered to the table, carrying a tray. She looked so tired, she'd neglected to remove her hair net. "Room for one more?" she groaned, resting her eyes.

"Take my seat," Hippolyta said, rising to her hooves. "I need to find Circe soon anyway."

"Thank you, Hip," Meryl sighed, settling groggily into the warm spot on the bench next to Kite.

"Tough morning, beautiful?" Kite said, patting the Eule on the shoulder.

"Mmhmm," Meryl grunted, putting a forkful of egg in her mouth. She chewed blindly, bags under her eyes. "Hip, your girlfriend ordered every spare Eule into the kitchen early this morning. 'Big breakfast, stat,' she said."

"Huh." Hippolyta blinked, crossing her arms.

"Weird," Kite said. She looked around at the room, once again filled to capacity. Many replikas ate standing up. "Must be why the cafeteria is so crowded this morning," she muttered.

"Why did she order that, I wonder?" Dash said, cocking an eyebrow. "Usually, the 'libris don't get involved in domestic tasks. You know anything about that, Hip?"

Hippolyta shrugged. "No idea," she said. She threw her hands up. "Circe and her girls ran off suddenly this morning, at the crack of 'dawn'. All I know is what everyone else was told: stick around after for another announcement."

"Another one?" Double Tap said, scratching her cheek. "I hope it's not another big, world-shattering production like last night."

"All I know is," Meryl said, rubbing her face, "I'm putting my foot down. Light lunch today, since we have a heavy breakfast."

Kite leaned over to Meryl. "You wanna go after this is over, you and I?" she whispered. "Do a bit of 'unwinding'?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Meryl cracked a tired smile, glancing sideways. "...maybe..." she said, playing with her fork. "I could tell the others to put out rations, and let everyone serve themselves."

"A bit of fun," Kite breathed into Meryl's ear, "followed by a nap?"

A chewed lip. Meryl inhaled, shutting her eyes. "Fun and a nap would be heavenly."

Ting, ting, ting.

"Achtung!"

The roar of conversation died down, as everyone present slowly turned their eyes to the far side of the room.

Circe lowered her glass and spoon, placing it on the table beside her. "Good morning, everyone," Circe said, into the microphone. "I hope you all had a good breakfast. And that you slept reasonably well, after last night's...excitement."

The silence was punctuated by disparate coughs from the crowd.

The Kolibri scratched her cheek. "...first, I want to thank everyone again for being understanding," Circe said. "The last few days were very stressful for everyone. Our failure to inform the family caused a lot of unnecessary confusion, agitation, and grief. For that, I apologize." She smiled. "Second, I want to thank the entire domestic staff, for pulling out all the stops this early, on such short notice."

Meryl, bleary eyed, smiled and waved at Circe. Giggling when the Kolibri nervously waved back.

Circe sighed, smiling. "...and third...I have to hand the mic over to someone else."

The crowd craned their necks, watching Circe walk over to one of the double doors leading to a corridor.

Isis and Shahrazad were already there. They slid the doors open with a press of a button and stepped aside.

Members of the crowd gasped, as Circe handed the mic to the figure who stepped from the shadows, flanked by Vanessa and Daisy.

"Good morning, my children," Elster said, smiling. "I missed you."

The room erupted into noise, shouts, and frantic movement. Countless refrains of "Mom!", "You're alive!", "She's back!".

"Oh," Hippolyta said, eyebrows rising. "Guess the wait is over." She waved. "Hi mom!"

Dash, overwhelmed, made to rise to her hooves. She stopped, frowning. Clutched a hand to her chest, with a pained expression. She flinched, when a hand tugged on the sleeve of her t-shirt.

"Go to her!" Samantha whispered, staring up at Dash. "Go!"

Dash gulped, looking down at her girlfriend, then nodded. She rose, joining dozens of replikas who ran from their seats or elsewhere to rush in.

They only started to form a crowd, when Elster raised her hand. "Whoa, hang on, stop!"

The replikas halted, surprised. The room quieted down, giving their mother their undivided attention.

Elster kept her hand out in front of her. She frowned. "Wait a moment, everyone," she said. "Don't worry, I intend to hug each and every one of you, sweeties." She smiled. "I just need to say two things."

The crowd, building more and more as replikas abandoned helf-eaten meals to join in, held their breaths.

"First, I want to say...I'm sorry," Elster said, frowning sadly. "I should have told you all sooner. About the true nature of my 'employer'. About how Ariane and I came to be under his control. About...why I lead a life of violence, and its terrible effects. And about...the fact I have an...atypical relationship to mortality."

Her audience squirmed uncomfortably. Fresh on their minds was the heart-wrenching, hellish vision of Elster's life, death, and many rebirths.

Elster brushed a lock of black hair behind her ear. Looked away. "I caused you a great deal of pain. I still do. I don't blame you if you're unable to see me as anything but a selfish monster..." She shut her eyes, a lump in her throat.

"Don't give us any of that crap!"

Elster flinched, opening her eyes.

Hippolyta, having regained her normal Storch legs, towered above the rest of the crowd. Arms folded, she scowled. "...we've all seen why you did what you did," she said. "No one who has a heart could have expected you to do any differently."

"Yeah!" another replika cried.

"What she said!"

"It's not fair what was done to you!"

"You're not to blame!"

Elster clutched her chest. "N-no! Don't say that!" she said, mortified. "You can't just absolve me of blame! I'm not..."

"No one's absolving you of shit," Hippolyta said, tilting her head to the side. "None of us have any illusions about how fucked up and wrong it is. To go around doing the bidding of a daemon." She puffed out her chest. "But that doesn't change how we feel." She smiled. "You're our mom, and we love you."

The crowd erupted into shouts of assent. Cheers. Whistles. Claps, even. Many rubbed tears from their eyes.

Elster frowned. A worse lump formed in her throat. She gasped, holding a hand over her mouth. "...girls..." she sobbed. She braced herself, wiping away a tear. "...thank you..." she said, smiling.

A thunderous applause.

Daisy clapped a hand on Elster's shoulder. She smiled at Elster.

Vanessa patted Elster's back. "...see? I told you."

Elster sighed, shutting her eyes. She nodded.

After a moment, Elster raised her hand for attention. "Achtung! I have a second announcement!"

When the noise died down, she continued. "When I said I would hug each and every one of you, I meant that," Elster said, smiling. "But I have no intention of being crushed to death by a crowd of my kids. Not after I just got back." She laughed, even as an annoyed Vanessa poked her in the back. "Heh heh...so instead of everyone running in at once, I've brought Adler in."

She pointed across the room, where the administrator was already walking up, hands clasped behind his back. He smiled, bowing to Elster.

"He's going to form an orderly queue," Elster said. As replikas began to groan and voice displeasure, she rubbed the back of her head. "I know, I know. But this is the fairest way. Everyone form a line, and I'll meet each and every person, individually or in small groups if you prefer. There's no hard time limit for how long you're allowed to see me. If you need more time, I'll give it to you. But just be mindful of those behind you in line. They all deserve a turn as well."

The crowd began muttering among themselves.

Elster switched her weight from one hoof to the other. "It's for this reason, then, that I wanted everyone to have a big breakfast. While we need to keep the line moving, I'm willing to take as much time as needed. So, everyone has the day off. You only need to work if you really want to."

The room exploded into cheers and claps.

Circe side-eyed Elster, smiling. She crossed her arms. Diodana won't like that.

Yeah, well, Elster thought, shrugging, what can you do? Plus, we already told her, so this won't be a surprise.

When the cheers subsided, Elster said, "Anyway, we'll get started with the line in a few moments," Elster said. "If you haven't finished eating, you can do so, without fear of missing a spot." She smiled. "But I already know who gets in first."

She pointed. "Dash?"

The crowd parted, revealing a shocked Star. She quaked, staring.

Elster beckoned. "Come here, Dash."

Tears formed on the corners of the Star's eyes. Her lower lip quivered. "...Elster!" she gasped.

She crossed the width of the room in seconds.

"Oh!" Elster yelped, almost pushed over as the Star practically crashed into her.

"Mom!" Dash sobbed, arms thrown around Elster. She pressed her chin against her maker's shoulder, eyes clasped shut. Tears rolled down her cheek. "Mommy!" she cried, hugging her desperately.

Elster smiled warmly, hugging back. "Shh, shh," she cooed, patting the Star's back as it heaved with each sob. "It's okay. I've got you."

"I'm s-sorry!" Dash sobbed, weak at the knees. "Because of me..."

"None of that," Elster said, stroking the Star's head. "There's nothing to apologize for."

Dash sniffed, shivering. "...I...I missed you so much..."

"There, there," Elster said, rubbing Dash's back. "Let it all out."

And she did. Dash bawled like a child, until there were no more tears to shed.

Chapter 47: Schwarzchilde

Notes:

Blackshields

"Guten tag, legionäre. You brought the materials?"

Wind whipped across the plateau, billowing cloaks and sending ripples on the water that pooled in stony divots. Rain lightly pelted void suit and ceramite alike.

Behind each group, transports were parked at far ends of the flat, rocky outcropping. Beyond the edges, damp plains stretched in all directions, broken only by other jutting stone features or gentle rolling hills. Diffused light filtered through gray clouds.

The two small groups maintained a ten meter separation. Regarding each other from behind helmets.

Two space marines in black armor stood, statue-like. Bolters in their hands, at ease, but ready to snap up at a moment's notice. At their side, a pair of weather-worn company serfs, clad in soiled brown robes, shivered in the wet, chill air. The gestalts carried a heavy storage box between them.

One legionary took a single step forward. "As arranged," he said, over the radio. He gestured to the menials, and their heavy load. "A representative sample. Have you brought samples in kind?"

"Ja, natürlich. Of course," Elster said, a lasgun in her hands. Two Stars, in their shorter legs (to fit in void suits) stood behind her, one bearing a lasgun, the other a grenade launcher. Elster gestured to the two Aras by her side, one of which carried the temperature controlled container by a handle. "Two units of gene-seed, as arranged."

"Hmm," the legionary grunted, voice deep and husky. "...before we trade, a question. What is the providence of the gene-seed? What Legion, or Legions, provided them? Or do you even know?"

"I do know, ja," Elster said gesturing with a hand. "Verifiably Iron Warriors, the whole lot."

"Hrrm," the legionary's companion growled. His bionic hand clenched around his bolter.

The two marines shared a look. Elster guessed they switched to a private channel to converse. She didn't bother searching for it.

The lead legionary turned back, nodding. "Acceptable, assuming it's true," he said. "We shall see."

"May I ask that you display the goods from there?" Elster said.

The legionary nodded, motioning to the menials.

The two gestalts gratefully set their burden down. One of them massaged his aching arm. The other opened the container and tipped it forward. Solid metal bars lit up in the half-light of the overcast day.

"Satisfied?" the legionary said.

"Enough to warrant a closer examination, ja," Elster said, nodding. "Shall we begin the exchange?"

"Yes." The legionary gestured, motioning his serfs forward.

The two gestalts quickly fastened the cargo again, and picked it up. They began ponderously walking forward.

At Elster's signal, the Aras walked forward together, one bearing the samples.

Both armed members of each side watched the two goods-bearers meet in the middle, weapons ready to turn and fire if required. It was a forlorn hope, of course, that a scant handful of replikas could put up a fight against two entire space marines at full strength, and out in the open. But Elster's crew still needed a show of strength.

Stopped before their opposite numbers, the Aras set the samples down.

The company serfs did likewise. As before, they unlatched the container and displayed the goods. An Ara stooped, inspecting the contents. Digging each metal bar out, until she was satisfied.

"Twenty bars of titanium, confirmed," Rose said over the radio.

"Understood," Elster said.

The Aras, in turn, unscrewed their container and popped the lid off. Taking a handle, they slid the metal storage frame out. Two of its four slots bore a large glass vial, filled with mysterious organic tissues.

A company serf removed an auspex scanner from his belt and, shivering in the cold, passed it multiple times over the vials. He nodded, then stood up straight. Looking over his shoulder, he nodded to the legionaries. Their master returned the nod.

Securing each package again, the two pairs of bearers placed the goods side by side. The Aras bowed to the menials, who, after a moment's hesitation, bowed back. Then, each lay claim to the other's container. A serf picked up the gene-seed, while both Aras shared the load of titanium. Pairs parted quietly, returning to their respective groups.

"Ugh," Rose grunted, bent over from the weight, "it's like carrying an entire replika."

"Hopefully, it'll provide the skeleton for more than one," Elster said. "If nothing else, this trip won't be wasted."

The lead legionary's companion bent over when the serfs returned, inspecting the gene-seed himself. The two marines exchanged looks, then turned back to the replikas.

"Grant us an Imperial standard day," said the lead legionary. "We must test for sufficient genetic purity. Once we are satisfied, we will contact your ship again, to arrange a full exchange. Is this acceptable?"

"Ja," Elster said, nodding.

Warily, each group turned, making for their respective transports. Each had one of their fighters linger at the rear, vigilant against double-cross.

"Any idea who these guys are, mom?" Breach said, looking over her shoulder. "Their Legion, I mean?"

"From what I understand, something like half of the Legions run around in black armor," Elster said, shrugging. "So who knows?"

"They didn't have Legion markings, though," Kite said, bringing up the rear.

Elster pursed her lips.

"...it is a mystery."

 

"...so we're just going along with mom being a...minion of evil, I guess?"

Tulip paused, long tweezers clutching a tiny wooden mast over a tiny wooden deck. She inhaled. Exhaled. She lowered the bottle and turned her head fractionally. "...Chicory."

"It's fucked, right?" Chicory said, holding her hands up in front of her and flexing her fingers in a clawlike fashion, for emphasis. "Like, we're doing all this mercenary shit so Elster can pay off a...you know! We all saw it!" She gestured to the side, at the empty air. "I just...ngh!" She pulled a wrench from her belt and bit down on it, grimacing.

Violet, looking up from her sketchpad of crayon drawings, frowned, shrinking into herself. "...I..." she whispered, before hugging herself. She shivered.

Rue, who sat beside Violet on the bed, reached out and hugged her younger sister with one arm.

"...none of us are okay with it, Chicory," Tulip said, finally. She turned back to the desk, studying the ship-in-a-bottle in progress on its display stand. "It sucks."

"We can't just keep letting her do it, can we?" Chicory said, wagging her stress wrench around.

Tulip turned the tweezer in her fingers, then turned her head back again. "What would you have us do, then?" she said. "We can't kill mom. Aside from it being horrible, she just came back from the dead. That won't work."

"Ngh..." Chicory grunted, fidgeting with her wrench. "Can't we...like...go on strike? Make her stop killing people? If we all institute a work stoppage, can we force her to turn us around and go back home?"

Tulip tapped her finger on the desk. "...if you could get everyone in on it, maybe..."

Rue pulled out her speaking device and tapped the buttons. "[If Elster is willing to go to all this trouble to get her girlfriend back]," the device spoke, "[she won't let a strike get in her way. She'll do anything for Ariane.]"

"...she wouldn't kill and replace us for striking...would she?" Chicory said, shrinking into herself. "Mom loves us."

"She wouldn't need to," Tulip said, picking up her ship again. "Mom and Diodana alone could probably keep this ship running at minimal capacity indefinitely, if they had to. Diodana won't compromise the functioning of the ship, to entertain something like a strike action."

"But...!" Chicory whined, wringing her hands. She, like many Aras, was not adept at forming a counterargument on the fly.

Rue frowned, tapping. "[...what about Ariane? Could we really insist Elster leave Ariane in the hands of the daemon?]"

Chicory flinched. She hugged herself. "..."

"Having to kill tons of people and consign their souls to hell isn't right," Tulip said, eyeing the inside of the bottle. "But neither is leaving Ariane with the Arkifane. At least here, mom gets to pick and choose who she kills."

Chicory sank to her knees, hugging herself. She trembled, lower lip quivering.

Her elder sighed, putting the bottle down. She rose from the chair and walked over, stooping.

"I've had time to think about it now," Tulip said, patting Chicory's shoulder. "Simple truth is, what's done is done. Mom can't take back the pact she made. Nor all the other people she's already sacrificed. And just leaving things as they are is...unacceptable, at least to Elster. Even if we convinced her to break off now, she'll just take us to Eusan, drop anyone who wouldn't cooperate off at Rotfront, and make a whole new batch of Aras that don't know what's going on. And they'd blindly help her keep killing."

Chicory pressed a hand to her chest.

"So either we help her, or someone else will," Tulip said.

"[Or she'll do it on her own, if she has to]," Rue typed.

Tulip nodded. "We can't change this reality, Chicory," Tulip said. "We can only do what we can within it. Alright?"

Chicory shut her eyes, holding a pained expression on her face. She nodded.

"Okay," Tulip said, nodding back. She turned around and returned to her desk. Resuming the delicate task of assembling her ship. "Go to your special interests, Chicory. Worrying yourself to tears won't solve anything."

Chicory sighed, rubbing her eyes. "...okay."

Violet, seeing the situation resolved, hugged Rue back, then returned to her drawing.

 

"Our Apothecaries deemed your product...adequate."

Both sides were assembled on the plateau again. The puddles greatly reduced from the day before, evaporated under the shining sun. A clear blue sky stretched out above them.

Each group arrived in far larger numbers. An entire ten-marine tactical squad took point, watching impassively from behind their visors. Each carrying a bolter, save one with a flamer. Each clad in black, their shoulder pads unadorned.

Behind them, twice their number of menials hauled materials on electric loaders. Containers (hopefully) filled with metals, machinery, munitions, and more exotic materials. As well as shipments of grain, dried fruit and meat, and canned food.

"Danke schön," Elster said over the radio, nodding. "Glad you're satisfied."

At her side, every Star and Storch was in attendance, as well as many armed Aras, one Eule (Maria, manning the long-range radio), and a Kolibri (Isis). Some wore scavenged void suits, like the day before. But just as many hid themselves under layers of cloaks, hoods, and face scarves. The taller replikas, not having undergone "short-leg training", just had to make due. These squatted, to disguise their true height.

Behind them, Jenny loaded chilled containers onto a cart, while SAPR-N0601 kept watch, a chain gun in her hands. Her face obscured behind her visor.

"You never answered my question from yesterday," said the lead legionary. "Where did you procure such a quantity of gene-seed?"

"Alas, I cannot say," Elster said, shrugging. "Trade secret. Apologies."

"That's not good enough," the legionary said. "I insist on knowing the providence of this gene-seed." The marines behind him hefted their bolters, to punctuate the threat.

Elster sighed. "Very well," she said. "You may not have heard yet, but the Iron Warriors just had a huge void battle in the Phall system with the Imperial Fists. They left many wrecked ships behind, in their eagerness to put each other to the sword. It was simple enough to plunder one."

The marines behind their leader looked at each other.

"A battle in Phall? Is that right?" the legionary said. "This exchange was agreed to weeks ago. How did you know there would be a battle there? There's nothing in Phall but a couple agri-worlds."

Elster shrugged. "We merely go where we're told," she said. "Our employer set the job, and we followed through. The wrecks of battle were right where we were told. Moreover, it's not like we could say for certain how long ago that battle happened. What with Warp transit being unreliable at the best of times, much less right now."

"When did you speak to our broker?"

"We didn't," Elster said. "Our employer contracts many agents and assets. We received this assignment directly from him."

"Who is your employer?" the legionary said.

The replika commander shrugged. "Don't know," Elster said. "All I know is, he's got lots of irons in the fire." She pointed a finger at the legionary. "I could ask the same question. To whom do you swear allegiance? Emperor, or Warmaster?"

The legionary said nothing.

"...then I suppose we have nothing more to discuss," Elster said. "Are we doing this, or not?"

"Very well," the lead legionary said. "We may commence." He motioned to the menials, who sallied forth with their loaders.

Elster responded in kind. "Jenny," she said, gesturing. "Supply these nice men." She signaled to a set of Aras. "Help with the loading and unloading, will you?"

"Okay," Jenny said, pushing the cart forward.

The Aras accompanied her, keeping their lasguns ready as they approached.

When the two groups met in the middle, inspecting each other's wares, one of the legionaries took a step forward.

"Hold on a minute," the marine said, walking forward. "What trickery is this?"

The legionary leader extended a hand, seeming to say something over a private channel.

The Stars and Storches raised their weapons, aiming at him. "Hey, stop!"

Elster held up a hand. "I'll handle this," she said, before jogging forward.

She and the legionary met in the middle, on either side of the now disquieted groups of goods-bearers.

The legionary - the one from the day before, with the bionic arm - pointed at the cart bearing the gene-seed containers. "Why the explosives?"

The menials, now with time to observe, staggered back in fear. The gene-seed containers were covered in mines, affixed to their sides.

Elster pulled a trigger from her belt. Holding it aloft. "Insurance," she said. She waited a moment while the marines in the distance leveled their bolters at her. "Try anything, and they go boom."

"There's no need for this, Nomarch," said the marine leader. "Put the trigger down."

"I will," Elster said. "Once we've finished our swap."

"You dare play these games, against Astartes?" the legionary with the bionic arm said. "We could destroy you in an instant."

"It's because you can destroy us so easily that I insist on these measures," Elster said. "You won't dare jeopardize the gene-seed. Whereas I have no desire to catch my people in the blast...unless you start shooting."

The marines kept their weapons leveled. The Aras looked back and forth between the legionaries and their maker.

Finally, the marine leader nodded. "Very well. Proceed with the exchange. Don't do anything regrettable."

"I won't," Elster said, taking a step back. Her thumb poised over the trigger. "So long as you don't. You have my word."

"You have mine," said the marine leader. He nodded to the legionary with the bionic arm.

The marine in front of Elster stood down. He retreated a few steps to the side, watching both Elster and the precious cargo. "Proceed."

 

"...we have done as you asked, mortal. Now, your trigger."

Elster nodded, watching Aras carry containers, while Jenny wheeled a heavily laden cart back. "As promised," she said, leaning down and placing the trigger harmlessly on the ground. "You may keep the explosives. Complements of our company."

The marine in front of her looked over his shoulder, watching the menials disable the mines. In truth, they were quite rudimentary, and easily thwarted, if permitted to do so.

He looked forward, eye lenses traveling past Elster. He studied first Jenny, then the Schnapper behind her.

He looked down at Elster's chestplate. Studied the three off-white stars stenciled on the gray paint.

"...what did you say the name of your company was, mortal?" he said, looking Elster in the eyes.

Elster tilted her head to the side. "I didn't. We don't really have a name yet."

The bionic hand twitched, as if in pain. "...I would see the face of our interlocutor, if you wouldn't mind."

The replikas behind Elster froze. They looked over.

Elster blinked behind her helmet. Calmed her racing heart. "...you first," she said, maintaining a steady voice. "I would know your name, legionär."

The marine stared impassively. His mechanical hand twitched again. A slight twitch of his helmet to the side. He clenched the hand against the bolter, then breathed audibly into the radio. "Very well."

He magnetized the bolter to his belt, then raised both hands to his head. The helmet hissed as he removed it.

"...my name is Sergeant Anton Weir," said the marine.

His black hair was cropped short, a hairless scar running across the left side of his scalp. More scars criss-crossed his lips, and over his right eye. Wires fed into a bionic eye in the right socket, though the eye retained its fleshy lids. His left eye twitched, in time with a twitch of his bionic hand. He glared intensely. His eye shot down to Elster's chest again, then back up.

"Guten tag, Herr Weir," Elster said, bowing her head slightly. She gulped, fighting down a rush of panic. She suspected now who she was dealing with.

"You will remove your helmet now," said Weir. It wasn't a question.

"…" Elster stood impassive, unmoving.

"I would see your face." He narrow his eye. "Do it now..." He scowled. "...replika."

The replikas behind Elster raised their weapons at the marine. The marines, in turn, pointed their own.

Elster raised an arm to her children, without looking. "No, it's alright," she said firmly.

Götterdämmerung, Elster thought, sighing. Her heart raced, feeling the tingle of death's edge on her throat. She let the lasgun hang from the strap on her shoulder, then raised her hands. The helmet hissed.

Her black hair whipped in the wind, as she revealed her face.

"...as I said," Elster said, meeting the marine's gaze, "Guten tag...Eisenhand. My name is Elster. LSTR-512."

Weir's eyes widened. A note of recognition in his organic eye. "...you?"

Elster cocked an eyebrow. "...sir?"

The marine scowled, studying her face.

"Are you perhaps mistaking me for another replika you murdered, Eisenhand?" Elster said, furrowing her brows.

Weir set his jaw. His metal hand twitched again, along with the corner of his mouth. He clenched, mastering the errant sensation, or at least leashing his response to it. He narrowed his eye, growling, "...you cannot murder a thing."

"Weir," called the marine leader, having to speak openly now that his subordinate no longer wore a helmet. "What's the meaning of this?"

The marine raised his voice, hand reaching for his bolt pistol. "Captain," he said, "these things aren't human. They're Abominable Intelligence."

Both the marines and the replikas pointed their weapons at each other.

"Abominable Intelligence?" said the marine captain.

"Back! The Fuck! Off!" Hippolyta shouted, sighting in her grenade launcher.

Elster raised her hand again. "No! Everyone stand down!" she shouted, not taking her eyes off the marine in front of her.

The captain, after a moment, raised his own hand. "Hold!"

"We shouldn't hold, captain," Weir said, unholstering his bolt pistol. "They're Abominable Intelligences. Silica Animus. They're tech heresy, by writ of the Mechanicum."

"The Magos who made that pronouncement did so in error, sir," Elster said, firmly. Despite her stony expression, her heart raced. She fought away the image of the Iron Hands marine pointing a bolter at her, and the flash that took her life once before. She had to deescalate. "You've no doubt killed enough of our kind to know we're not Silica Animus. Our skulls are filled with organic brains. Our chests of organic hearts, stomachs, livers, and lungs."

The marine raised the bolt pistol to the air. "..."

"Can you trust the evidence of your own experience, Eisenhand?" Elster said, staring into his eyes. "I'm no killer machine."

"...what evidence do you provide of that?" Weir said. "Artificial organs can be made to look organic. How are you not just a killer machine?"

"A killer machine wouldn't have the courage to stand here, without drawing a weapon, trying to convince you of their humanity," Elster said. "Only a human can be so brave. Or so foolish."

Weir glared at her. "...data point of one," he growled, not lowering his weapon.

Elster narrowed her eyes. She understood a bit more about him. Whatever his attitude, he certainly valued being logical, whether he met that standard or not.

"...consider, Eisenhand," she said. "Even if we were Abominable Intelligence, as the Mechanicum has pronounced..." She gestured with an outstretched hand towards her children. "Is this truly a good expenditure of your precious resources."

The marine stared. "..."

"The galaxy is wracked by war," Elster continued. "You of all people, Eisenhand, should know this. We're neck deep in the territory of the Warmaster. Can you afford to spend your bolter rounds killing us? Can your Frigate in orbit afford to exhaust its Macrocannon ammunition destroying our tiny ship?" She looked up to the sky, then back to him. "Are there not more worthy targets to vent your rage?"

"..."

The marine captain stalked forward, placing a hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "She is correct," he said. "Even if they're Abominable Intelligence, we can't spare even a single bolter round, nor a single ounce of prometheum."

"We could kill them with our bare hands," Weir said. He eyed the replikas in the distance. "With knives. Chainswords. Weapon butts."

"My children aren't unarmed, sir," Elster said. "Without your bolters, you have no guarantee of cleanly annihilating us, without taking loses yourselves. You're spending a great deal of resources, to buy looted gene-seed. Can you afford to lose even a single marine, if it's not against the Warmaster's dogs?"

"..."

"Again, she is right," the captain said. He turned to Weir. "The life of a single marine here is worth far more than all of them."

Weir scowled. "...I accede to this logic." He holstered his bolt pistol. "I will permit you to live, for now."

When the marines behind him lowered their weapons, the replikas did the same.

The captain sighed audibly, shaking his head. He magnetized his bolter, then removed his helmet. His skin was an unnatural charcoal black. His eyes glowed faintly red. He extended a hand. "Abominable Intelligence or not, I admire that courage," said the legionary. "Captain Hammond."

"LSTR-512," Elster said, placing her hand around the index finger of the marine and shaking it. "Call me Elster."

Weir scowled, looking away.

"You spoke of them as your children, these others," Hammond said, eyeing the replikas. "These...replikas, you are called?"

"Yes," Elster said. "Replikas are clones of humans, placed in synthetic chassis. Grafted with the neural patterns of dead gestalts. Or, as you would call them, baseline mortal humans. I've spent the last several years painstakingly creating them, since the...'Eusan Compliance'." She narrowed her eyes, looking at Weir.

"Fascinating," Hammond said. He smiled. "Reanimated people, made to fight once again. Will wonders never cease?"

Weir looked sideways at Hammond, then down to Elster.

The replika commander couldn't help but think some mote of recognition flashed across Weir's face. That moment his captain said "reanimated". Or was it...inspiration?

"Where is your company headed next?" Hammond asked, before placing his helmet back on his head.

"To the northern Segmentum Pacificus," Elster said. "Our employer has more work, not too far from the Rangda region."

"Very well," the marine captain said, nodding behind his helmet. "We both have more work to do. Thank you for the gene-seed."

"Thank you for the materials," Elster said, nodding. She smiled. She looked at Weir. "And thank you for not shooting us, Eisenhand."

"You will stop calling me that," Weir said, curtly.

Elster furrowed her brow. "...why?"

"You keep calling me 'Iron Hand'," Weir said. "I am not one. Not anymore." He narrowed his eyes.

"..." Elster narrowed her eyes back. "May I ask why? You already had black armor to begin with. But you've masked your Legion heraldry." She inclined her head towards the captain. "And I have a feeling your captain, and the others, aren't all from the same Legion as you."

"We are Blackshields, miss," Hammond said, before turning away.

"Schwarzchilde?" Elster said, raising her eyebrows. "Why?"

Hammond said nothing, simply walking away.

Weir raised his mechanical hand. It twitched, along with the corner of his mouth. He clenched the hand, and his jaw. "...I cannot speak for the others, replika," he said, in gravely tone. "But Iron Hands brook no weakness. They must give everything, and excel. Otherwise, it brings the entire Legion - the entire Imperium - down. Our father, Ferrus Manus, demands...demanded nothing less."

"...I'm with you so far," Elster said.

He stared into space. "You have no doubt by now heard of Isstvan?" He gritted his teeth. "When we were betrayed? Cut down by base perfidy?"

"Yes," Elster said, nodding.

"Ferrus Manus, our father, died there," Weir said. He looked sharply away.

Elster noted, in that split second, a look of intense pain. "..."

"...how, then, can we, those of his sons who survived, call ourselves Iron Hands?" Weir said, clenching his metal fist. "We failed him. We failed to save him." He gritted his teeth. "...and he...failed to live."

The replika commander nodded. "I see."

Weir inhaled. Exhaled. Looked at Elster, seemingly having leashed his emotions. "...you intend to reconstitute your kind?"

"I do," Elster said. "As I think you intend to, as well."

"...perhaps." The marine narrowed his eyes at her. "When this war is over, find whatever hole you hid in the first time, and stay there. You and the rest of your..." He eyed the replikas behind her. "...misbegotten kind. The galaxy - the Imperium - has no need of relics such as you." He turned away, making to stomp back to his people. "Let them forget the horrors of Old Night."

Elster blinked. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, turning around.

She stopped. Turned her head. "One more question, sir," she said.

Weir stopped, helmet held at chest height. "...what is it, replika?"

"I don't mean this to sound like a taunt," Elster said, only half lying. "How does it feel?"

"...how does what feel?" Weir asked, turning his head. He kept his eyes on the horizon.

"How does it feel to watch your people slaughtered, by men with nothing but hate in their hearts, for you and everything you stand for?" Elster inclined her head back. "How does it feel to pick through the mounds of your dead, just to keep the living going a little longer?"

"..." Weir shivered, his jaw setting tight.

"How does it feel to be a victim of a genocide so total, you cannot even bear to wear your home colors?" Elster turned her head, until she could side-eye the marine. She tapped the three stars on her chest plate. "How does it feel, to lose your kin? Your culture? Your very identity? How does it feel to live with that loss, every day? That agony? Never truly healing?"

She narrowed her eyes. "How does it feel, schwarzchild, to live with that phantom pain?"

With his head turned, Elster saw the marine's mouth twitch. Hands clench onto his helmet. His one organic eye met her own, in surprise. He regarded her. Then, he looked away. Mouth set. "...feelings...are a weakness."

"Really?" Elster said, looking away. "Hmph. And here I thought we might finally have something in common."

"You thought wrong," Weir said, before placing the helmet back on. He walked away.

Elster took one last look back, then proceeded to walk to her family.

Somehow, she thought, I have a feeling that's not true.

 

"A fine bounty indeed."

Anton Weir stared out the window, at the infinite sea of stars. "...Iron Father," he said.

The Techmarine walked up beside him, planting the end of his cog-axe on the ground. The shadow of his back-mounted manipulator arms fell over Weir.

Out of the corner of his eye, Weir saw the Iron Father's own mechanical hand twitch. Along with the Techmarine's mouth.

"...your missing limb still troubles you, Iron Father?" Weir said.

"Affirmative," said the Techmarine. "Does yours?"

"I can bear it," Weir said.

"A troublesome mutation," the Iron Father said, nodding. "It afflicted our entire company, before..." He stepped forward, looking out into the void. He shook his head. "A frailty of the flesh we cannot cut away. Alas."

"It is no matter," Weir said, looking out at space. He watched a light streak across the sky. A body orbiting the same planet. Moving to escape the gravity well and leave system. "...they were replikas. The sellers."

"Were they?" the Techmarine said, turning his head slightly. "The Abominable Intelligences of Eusan? All the way out here? They carried the gene-seed?"

"Affirmative."

"Did you inform Captain Hammond? We could have destroyed them."

"Hammond was there," Weir said. "He judged, logically, that our resources were better spent against the traitors."

The Iron Father turned back to the window. "...yes...yes, of course." He clenched the steel haft of his axe. "Such matters, even Silica Animus, are of little concern, compared to the traitors."

Weir looked sidelong at the elder marine.

He saw his mentor's brows furrowed in seething hate.

Weir looked back to the stars. The right and proper stars. Cold. Logical. Mechanistic. Untainted by fancy, bitterness, regret, or pain.

He envied them. He did not admit to himself that he envied them. Could not. Envy was sentiment. Envy was feeling. Feeling was weakness.

And yet...he could not stop thinking about her. That replika mercenary. The one with the cheek to argue her humanity to an Astartes. To one of the butchers of her people. The replika was willing to look death in the face, and keep fighting. No matter how hopeless the odds.

She so reminded Weir of that other LSTR unit. The one he killed so long ago, at the end of that compliance action. Surely, it was some commonality with their programming. Or, if the creature were to be believed, her original human template.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. What she said. What Captain Hammond said. Arguably, cybernetic reanimation was more abhorrent than any Abominable Intelligence. Not merely aping humanity, but perverting it in mind, body, and soul. Raising the fallen and bidding them dance like marionettes. It was sickening. A betrayal of not merely the sacred human form, but of the people so cruelly ripped from the peace of their graves.

And yet...

"...meeting those replikas put matters into perspective for me, Iron Father," Weir said, finally. "I've made up my mind."

"Have you?" the Iron Father said.

"Affirmative. I want to take you up on your offer."

"I see." The Techmarine's metal hand twitched. He stared into the void. "...once that line is crossed," he said, tipping his head back fractionally, "there is no going back. Once the keys are turned, they cannot be unturned. You are sure you wish to commit?"

Anton Weir nodded. He twitched at the phantom pain running up his arm. An eternal reminder of what he lost.

"Yes. I would accompany you to Medusa. It's time to open the vaults."

 

Somewhere, beyond the bounds of the material world, the Arkifane laughed.

Chapter 48: Ahh, The Dark Kin

Notes:

Shout out to Skari from the SkaredCast for making me to fall in love with my horrible spikey elves.

"Come here, little rabbit! We're just playing!"

Cackles filtered through the jungle, echoing off trees. Footfalls impossibly soft signaled their approach.

Naal Hanali ran through the undergrowth, desperately weaving between tree trunks. Panting, heart racing. Eyes wide, frantic. Sweat poured down his face. His black armor stood out against the greenery.

Feeling them almost upon him, Naal wheeled around as he entered a clearing. Raised his white shuriken catapult. With a thought, he willed it to fire, the impulse following the line of his empathetic bond with the weapon.

Zip-zip-zip-zip-zip-zip-zip.

Vines, branches, and grass stalks were severed instantly and cleanly, as a shower of molecule-thin stars flew out the end of the catapult at high speed. He sprayed the undergrowth in a wide arc, attempting to catch his pursuers.

His feet dug into the moist earth and leaf-litter, as he ground to a halt. He panted, sweat pouring down his face.

When the vegetation settled from his assault, the jungle was unnaturally still and quiet.

Naal's eyes darted around. His Eldar senses bent to the task of finding his tormentors.

Zip.

He flinched, clapping a hand to the back of his neck. His heart raced. Pulled the teal splinter from his skin and examined it.

"...ngh!" he grunted, grimacing. His pupils dilated. The sting grew into a burning sensation, first in his neck, then spreading throughout his body. His bloodstream hijacked as delivery device for foul venom. The splinter tumbled from his fingers, as did his shuriken catapult.

His muscles went slack. His face lost expression. He swayed, then fell over on his side, limp.

Naal screamed internally, his paralyzed body wracked by pain. Veins on fire.

"Hah hah hah hah hah!"

His eyes, twitching, tried desperately to move. To follow the voice - the voices - from the treeline. He failed, pupils vibrating.

Two figures walked casually out of the brush, chuckling. The Eldar heard another two footsteps behind him. Felt their footfalls through the ground.

"Well, well, well," said the pale Eldar, with the equally white shock of short hair. He pressed a teal boot against Naal's shoulder and shoved him onto his back. The man and his three equally pale, lean companions regarded Naal with hungry eyes. "Looks like the game is over."

As the Drukhari chuckled, their leader smiled wickedly. A single gold tooth in place of an (Eldar equivalent) incisor. His white hair stood on end. The others had hair dyed a bright pink. This man was the only one who wore a full chest plate, teal and scuffed by rough use.

Every one of them wore ramshackle armor, festooned with makeshift spikes. Ancient pieces looted from the ruins of their civilization or painstakingly traded in the Dark City. Then modified for their use. The wealthier Kabals were even now beginning to produce armor with spikes built in, held in place to the body by a series of hooks that pierced the wearer's skin. This group were not so fortunate, and so needed to affix their armor with leather straps, like animals.

Beneath these teal armor pieces were skin-tight shirts and torn leggings of purple. Here and there, their outfits and equipment were accented by splashes of bright yellow.

The Drukhari leader chuckled, tapping his purple splinter rifle. "Well, cousin, it's been fun," he said, continuing his smile. Looking down at the panicking Naal with predatory eyes, ringed dark as if they'd not seen sleep in days. With the drugs in his veins, he very well might not have. "Let's get you back. If you think this hurts now, just wait until we get you to your new home. You're going to be there for a looooong time."

His companions burst out laughing. The Craftworlder on the ground shivered, internally screaming.

"Anyway, you two," the leader said, pointing. "Grab him. We gotta move."

"Why do we always have to carry them?" grumbled the other male in the group, his hair done up in a bun, held in place by a bone. He crossed her arms, scowling.

"Yeah," said the woman with the pink hair covering her eyes. "Carry him yourself for a change."

"Oh, what's wrong?" said the other woman, her long done in a braid. "You get to sit around while we run him down, but can't even do a little lifting?" She narrowed her eyes, gesturing lazily with her shard pistol.

"Bring it, bitch!" the first woman said, pulling out a dagger.

"Just fucking do it," the leader said, pointing to the ground. "Or I'll put out your dead-gods eyes."

The two grumbled, but complied. Stooping down and lifting the craftworlder with great difficulty.

"Hrgh!" the male grunted. His scrawny arms, though endlessly graceful, were thin from poor nutrition. "Heavy bastard, ain't he?"

"Pull your weight, dammit!" said the woman with covered eyes, draping Naal's arm over her shoulders. "Hgn!"

With effort, they hauled Naal up, hanging limp between them.

The braided one looked at the sky, soberly. "We should get going," she said. "Before this guy's friends come looking."

"What's the hurry?" their leader said, spreading an arm out wide. He shook his head. "We ran his ass halfway across the valley. There's nobody else out-"

ZZZZZZZAP!

The leader's eyes went wide, as a las bolt pierced his chest plate and tore a hole through his stomach.

The other three watched in shock as he fell onto his back, a blackened hole wafting smoke.

"..."

The male with the bun gawked. "Shit! We're under fire!" he yelled, pushing the paralyzed Eldar off.

"Ack! Hey!" the eye-covered woman said, thrown off balance by Naal's weight. "Where are you going!?"

"Not here!" the man said, backing away. His head whipped around. "Where'd it come from?"

"I don't know!" said the braided woman, zipping to the end of the clearing and ducking behind a tree. She peeked around, through some leaves.

"Guys, I can't carry this by myself!" said the eye-covered woman, whipping her head around. She struggled to drag herself and her burden to cover. She looked up at a distant hill, a single eye peeking between locks of pink hair. "Help me, you assho-!"

ZZZZZZZAP!

Her head was sheared clean off by scarlet light. Neck blackened and smoking. Both she and Naal collapsed in a heap.

"SHIT!" the man said, ducking into cover. He looked back at the woman on the ground, horrified. "S-she's dead!"

"Shut up," barked the braided woman. She narrowed her eyes, looking through the brush. "It's coming from that hill up there. Let's get 'em."

"A-a-are you insane!?" the man yelled, looking at the woman. "We're pinned!" He gestured at the pile of bodies. "They're both dead!"

The leader coughed, twitching on the ground. "...f-fuck you, gutter t-trash," he groaned, quickly giving up on rising. "...'m not fuckin' dead yet."

"We gotta get out of here!" the man with the bun yelled, ignoring their leader. "I don't want to die!"

"I don't either," said the woman, pulling out a knife. She looked over her shoulder, at the hill. "Luckily, we won't. That's a laser."

She glared at the man. "They're just filthy mon-keigh. Taking them as slaves will be child's play."

 

"They're sneaking over."

Elster scoped in. "Show me."

Winding through the brush, she saw the flicker of pale flames. Their light was far more feeble than that of the prostrate figure they accosted earlier. But still, she could see them.

"Share this with the others, will you, sweetie?" Elster said, leading her shot. "Fire when they get into range."

Shahrazad nodded, closing her eyes.

Elster's team took positions behind trees, rocks, and fallen logs.

It was uncanny. Elster wouldn't have sensed their approach, if the aliens' minds weren't laid bare. They crept with such stealth, no branch or vine moved, nor did leaf or stick betray their footfalls.

The replika commander waited until she was sure one of them slipped out from behind a trunk.

Elster squeezed the trigger on her long-las.

 

ZZZZZAP!

"Argh!" the Drukhari man cried, his right arm blasting off at the shoulder. With inhuman reflexes, he dove forward, taking cover. His left hand, wrapped with a chain from which a blade dangled, clutched his mangled stump. "Whores from the depths!" he groaned, eyes clasped shut.

His companion side-eyed him, then took shelter herself. She brought her splinter pistol and knife up, pressing her back to a tree. "Feels like it hurts," she said, smiling. Luxuriating in his pain. She forced a more serious expression. "...can you still fight?"

"Ngh...yes," he said, gritting his teeth. "Go. I'll...nhh...catch up."

"Not a chance," she said. "Can't have you running away, now can I?"

"Fucking bitch," he gasped, huffing and puffing. Forced himself not to cry out.

"Just keep moving," she said, looking over her shoulder. "Don't cry like you just got decanted from your tube. It was a lucky sh-"

ZZZZZAP!

The branch of the tree she pressed against exploded in red light, splinters flying everywhere.

She flinched, shrinking down. Looked back up at the now smoldering stump, wide-eyed. She gritted her teeth.

"That seem like a lucky shot to you?" the man grunted, watching smoke waft from the end of the severed branch.

"You can get lucky twice!" she said, coping. She raised her knife, sweat pouring down her pale flesh.

ZZZZZAP!

The Drukhari man flinched, feeling the las bolt strike the trunk of the tree behind him. "Shit!" he cried.

"Fuck it, they can definitely see us!" the woman cried. She rounded the tree and broke into a sprint. "Move, move, move!"

The man was already running forward before she even ordered. He spun the bladed chain around, using it to clear obstructive vegetation at lightning speed.

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

The two Wyches zig-zagged, frantically evading the shower of las bolts that pierced the jungle foliage.

"Okay, they've got friends!" the woman said, ducking and diving. She sprinted, scarlet beams impacting the ground behind her.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" the man yelled, feeling the heat of the bolts nipping at his heels.

Whrrrrrr.

"...take cover!" the woman screamed, dive under a fallen log.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT!

"Ah!" the man cried, a bullet clipping his side as he dove sideways, rolling.

The barrage of ballistics swept the jungle, tearing up bushes and leaf-litter.

"Fuuuuuuck!" the woman groaned, as bark splintered off the fallen log, showering back down on her. Mud spattered her back and side as bullets impacted the ground.

When the gatling volley subsided, she wriggled under a gap in the log, then sprinted to a tall tree. "Keep them busy!" she shouted, taking shelter behind the broad trunk. She began to climb.

The man huffed, chain-wrapped hand clutching his bleeding side. He gritted his teeth, letting his own pain embolden him. "Rragh!" he growled, jumping up to a branch, pushing off.

Using the trees as stepping stones, the wych man ascended both the hill and the treeline.

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

A branch exploded under his foot before he could step. "Ngh!" he grunted, feeling himself sink. With lightning fast reflexes, he brought his foot up and kicked the tree itself, flying sideways. The leaves in his previous space where cut down en masse by las bolts.

He kicked off another trunk, continuing his ascent. At last, the greenery cleared, and he saw the dozen-odd mon-keigh perched on the hill. Sitting behind cover, lasguns ready.

Their faces rose in surprise, as he leaped into their midst.

"Hah!" he cried, somersaulting over their heads. He spun as he landed, spinning chain raking one of them across the back.

"Nngh!" Kite grunted, bending over. Sparks erupting from the blade that cut a groove in her rear armor plate.

The Drukhari man landed and immediately jumped to the side, twirling. The blade created sparks as it cut into Breach's lasgun.

"Hey!" Breach cried, staggering back. She ducked frantically, as the spinning chain came in for a second pass. Strands of black hair came off, the Star narrowly avoiding a close shave.

"Get him!" Hippolyta cried, leaping over cover and charging.

"Heh," the wych grunted, tumbling backwards. He sailed over the Storch's head and kicked her in the behind.

"Wha-" Hippolyta gasped, long legs gouging into mud and leaf-litter. She fell flat on her face. "Oof!"

The Drukhari swiped again at Kite, forcing her to back off. He bounded around a tree, then charged at Rose. Trying to put as many non-viable targets between himself and the Schnapper's whirring gun.

"Ah!" Rose cried, eyes wide. She fell onto her back, as the razor sharp blade sailed over, cutting strands of her long, red hair. She gritted her teeth, and lashed out with a mechadendrite.

"Whoa!" the man breathed, dodging. Eyes wide.

He flinched again, when Rose's Servo Skull - its skull made of a spare replika skull - dove at him, medical syringes and scalpels extended.

"Grr!" he grunted, ducking. He tumbled over Rose and charged the Schnapper.

"Don't hold fire on my account!" Helga (SAPR-N0601) shouted, raising her gatling gun over her head. "I can take it!"

The wych frantically dove under her, feeling the dirt and leaf-litter splash against his heels from the impact of the heavy gun. "Shit!" he grunted, getting his feet under him in the same motion. He twirled, bounding away as he raked the back of Helga's thick legs.

He was so surprised to sense she felt no pain, the man almost didn't duck under the colossal arm that swung back at him. "Ooh!" he breathed.

Rose, overcoming her shock, gritted her teeth. Mechandendrites wormed behind her back and pushed her to her feet. She twirled, raising her lasgun. "Are you sure?" she yelled.

"Do it!" Helga grunted, dropping her gatling gun. She pulled an Astartes sized knife from her belt and stabbed at the wych.

He sidestepped, whirling around. Again, as his chained blade raked across the giant's arm, he sensed no pain to feed on. As he spun, he looked around him. "...shi-"

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

He stepped on her arm and jumped over her head, as half a dozen replikas opened fire with lasguns and submachine guns. Twirling in the air, he saw scarlet bolts of energy and bullets impacted uselessly against her armor plates. Or else tore at thick, leathery synthetic skin and thick cords of artificial muscles.

Even his bladed chain slid uselessly off her helmet.

He grimaced, both in terror and frustration. Even enduring such punishment, the giant felt nothing.

"Light him up!" Hippolyta shouted, mud dripping from her face.

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap. RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

The Drukhari man cartwheeled as best he could with one arm, then dove at Breach. Twirling his chain as he went.

"Gah!" Breach gasped, the chain coiling around her neck. The man kicked the back of her knee, forcing her to the ground as he strangled her. Using the Star as cover, to stop the gunplay.

"Dammit," he yelled, pulling the chain taut. "Where are you?" he cried for his ally.

 

"She's coming."

Elster trained her long-las up the tree, unscoped. "I see her."

ZZZZZZAP!

The bolt seared through the upper canopy, as the wych woman leaped into the air. She twisted, the bolt chopping off her braid halfway down. She felt the heat perilously close to her back, buttocks, and leg. She gritted her teeth.

"Look out!" Shahrazad shouted, ducking down.

A twinge of perception, a touch of dread. Elster, bracing, threw her long-las and arm up in front of her.

The woman, halfway on her airborne collision course, aimed her splinter pistol.

Zip-Zip-Zip.

One dart whizzed past Elster's ear, as the replika Jerked her head to the side on impulse. One clinked off the body of her long-las, over her heart. The last aimed for the neck, embedding into her forearm instead.

"Ngh!" the woman grunted, pulling her legs up to her chest. She kicked sideways.

"Ah!" Shahrazad cried, knocked in the chest and sent flying.

"Oof!" Elster grunted, as the Drukhari woman slammed into her. The two felt to the ground, one on top of the other.

 

"Get off of her!"

Hippolyta charged, pulling back to bash the Drukhari man with the butt of her lasgun.

The man simply crouched as she swung, then swept his leg.

"Ah!" Hippolyta cried, her gangly legs coming out from under her. She fell to the ground. "Oof!"

The Drukhari man raised a foot, coiling the chain around his ankle. Using this to keep the chain taut around the gasping Star's neck, he fished for a grenade on his belt. "Eat this!" he barked in rough, guttural Imperial Terran. He tossed the plasma grenade at the Schnapper.

Before the grenade even hit the air, Rose moved. She ran towards Helga, holding her lasgun like a bat. "Ngh!" she grunted, swinging.

Crack.

The plasma grenade bounced off her weapon, tumbling over the heads of Breach and the wych.

The man looked over his head in surprise. "Wha-"

Breach dropped backwards on the ground, grimacing behind her mask. She raised her long leg and kicked her hoof into the man's face. An errant tooth hit the air, along with a spray of blood.

"Gah!" the man grunted, tumbling over the fallen log. He tried to land well, his eye affixed to the plasma grenade landing in the leaf-litter a mere meter away. But the chain coiled around his ankle went taut, throwing off his balance. "NGH!" he grunted, as he cracked his shoulder on the log and rolled on the ground.

"Hit the deck!" Helga barked, interposing herself in front of Rose.

Other replikas sank to the ground or threw arms over their heads.

"Ngh...ah!" the Drukhari man gasped, wincing. Then shot his eyes open, and tried to rise, getting stuck again on the chain that forced his leg awkwardly over the log. "...uh..."

He looked at the grenade. A mortal, and then existential, terror gripped his Eldar heart. He threw his arm in front of his face.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, too subtle to truly hear, an androgynous voice cackled hungrily.

"No no no no n-!"

BOOM!

The jungle lit up blue and hot, as a concentrated blast of plasma detonated. Hot mud and burned leaves rained down on the hilltop. One side of the fallen log was scored black by the heat of a dying star.

Helga looked up from behind her singed arms. Her face mask popped up.

She breathed, "Heilige Scheisse..."

 

"Ngh! Scheisse!"

Elster's hand held the Drukhari woman's wrist, stopping it from plunging a dagger into her neck.

"Heh heh heh!" the wych giggled, staring into the replika's eyes. Teeth gritted, smiling ecstatically. "You're...already dead..." she breathed in Imperial Terran, eye darting to the teal splinter embedded in the replika's forearm.

Gritting her teeth, Elster narrowed her eyes. Her other arm groped frantically at her side.

"Hya!" Shahrazad cried, rising to her hooves, dagger drawn.

Without even looking, the Drukhari woman pointed her shard pistol.

Zip-Zip-Zip.

"Ah!" Shahrazad shrieked in alarm. Sensing the murderous intent, the Kolibri had enough warning to dive sideways to the ground, as the splinters sailed past her. Embedded into a tree.

"Do you feel it?" the Drukhari woman said, putting all her (admittedly scrawny) weight behind her blade. "The poison in your veins? By now it should be...burning..."

"Ngh..." Elster grunted, glaring. She held the blade back, squeezing the woman's wrist until it hurt.

Eyebrows furrowed. "Ngh?" the woman grunted, in confusion as much as pain. "...what...?" Her senses probed the replika beneath her. "...ngh...you're not...?" Her eyes went wide.

Elster smiled. The sleeve of her arm fell away, revealing the synthetic arm underneath. "Heh..." she grunted, baring her teeth. "...sorry. No blood in this arm."

BOOM!

The pair flinched as the explosion went off nearby.

"Ah!" the Drukhari woman grunted, eyes darting sideways. She felt the terror in her companion's heart, before it was snuffed out in an instant.

Elster unholstered her laspistol and jammed it into the woman's pale, unarmored stomach.

Zap Zap Zap.

Scarlet bolts erupted from the wych's back, showering the forest floor with exploding, charred meat.

"Hah!" the woman gasped, eyes going wide. She clasped her mouth shut, her arm going limp. Then, as the replika pushed her away, she coughed up blood onto the replika's moth-eaten shirt. "...hah..." She rolled off Elster, crimson fluid running down her chin.

Elster rose to her hooves, laspistol smoking. She glared down.

The wych writhed, arms shaking. The splinter pistol and dagger tumbled from her hands. She scrambled at the muddy ground. To her mounting horror, she couldn't get her legs under her. Couldn't feel them. She forced herself onto her elbows, looking across her ruined, blackened stomach. Her legs numb and lifeless.

She looked up fearfully, as Elster pointed her laspistol down. "...ngh...no!" she wheezed, eyes dilating.

Zap.

Elster sighed, lowering her smoking weapon. "...Shah, are you alright?"

"Y-yeah," Shahrazad said, sitting up. She looked down at the smoking woman, in mounting horror. "...oh empress..."

"Don't look, baby," Elster said, stepping over the corpse. "Don't give yourself nightmares."

"N-no, it's not that," the Kolibri said, looking away. She hugged herself. "She was terrified."

"People about to die generally are," Elster said, stalking towards the edge of their elevated perch.

"No, I mean more than about death," Shahrazad said, shaking her head. "She was terrified of...something taking her."

Elster paused, looking back. "..."

She shook her head. "Whatever she thought would get her," Elster said, looking forward, "they won't. Vashtorr has her now." She looked down at her children.

The replika commander whistled. "Damn!" she said, smiling. "That's some crater! You girls okay?"

"Yeah, we're good!" Hippolyta shouted, helping remove the chain from around Breach's neck. She looked down at the smoking indent in the earth, then kicked what remained of the Drukhari wych's legs into the hole. A hand rose to wipe mud from her face.

Shahrazad rose to her hooves, shivering.

"Is that everyone, Shah?" Elster asked, looking back to the wych behind her.

"..." Shahrazad closed her eyes. Inhaled. Coughed, frowning, at the smell of cooked flesh. Covered her mouth with the gray hem of her shirt. She shook her head, focusing. "...there's one more."

 

"Ngh...come on, you lazy bones...haff...we've got a date in Commoragh..."

The Drukhari squad leader slowly, painfully dragged the paralyzed Naal Hanali by the armpits. Stopping every second to catch his breath, and wince at the gaping hole in his stomach.

"...you really...need to...l-lose some w-weight...you know that?" he grunted, before coughing up a mouthful of blood. He smiled, his teeth stained red. "At least...your pain...is keep-ing...me...up and...ngh...running..." He looked up at the hill. "If I...get you back..." He chuckled, wincing in pain. "...forget...the Homunculi. I'm...keeping you."

He chuckled again. "How's that s-sound? Hmm?" He luxuriated in the healing power of pain. "Get a closet...to yourself. Ngh...two meals a day...huff..." The kabalite breathed, pulling the craftworlder another foot. "...just one beating in the evening...when I get home...f-from work...not too bad, right?"

Naal, eyes wide, slowly turned pupils towards his abductor. Face twitching in silent pain. Mind racing with mounting dread.

"...oh come on..." the Drukhari said, huffing. He grunted, throwing his head back. He smiled. "It could...be a lot...worse!" Pulled his captive along another foot. "Let's see some more agony, huh? Huff. My guts...aren't...guh...going to knit themselves...back together..."

He was in so much blissful pain, and so preoccupied by exertion, he didn't notice the hoofsteps approaching at a sprint.

"...eh?" he said, turning his head in time to see the Star run up and slam his head with the butt of her lasgun. "Ah!"

He crumbled to the ground, rolling onto his back. He clutched the side of his head, groaning. "...ngh...ow..."

He flinched, as a hoof stepped on his chest.

He scrambled for a dagger. It got halfway out before another replika's hoof slammed down on his hand, breaking bones. "Hah!" he gasped, letting go of the knife. Winced in pain, before looking up. "...ngh..."

A whole team of replikas gathered around, weapons trained on him.

"...huff...h-howdy, neighbors!" he breathed, slurring his best Imperial Terran. "...n-nice d-day for a stroll...isn't it?"

The replikas parted, allowing Elster to approach. Her long-las slung on her back. Laspistol in her hand.

"...I see...you're the one w-who popped me...and my good buddy..." he grunted, looking toward where the other Drukhari woman's corpse lay. "...she was like...a sister to me, you know?" He shut his eyes briefly, thinking. "...I mean...ngh...for all I know, we could be related...none of us...knew our gene-parents..." He chuckled painfully, wincing. "...didn't stop me bangin' the whole...l-lot of them, a'course...heh heh..."

The replikas above him scowled, recoiling in disgust.

"...ew..." Breach said, narrowing her eyes.

Elster stared, unperturbed. She motioned to Kite, who removed her hoof from his chest. Elster raised her laspistol, pointing at his head.

He went wide-eyed. "N-n-no-now wait a minute!" he stammered, throwing his hands weakly in front of him. "Don't shoot! D-Don't shoot, Khaine damn you!"

The replika commander waited, beginning to squeeze the trigger.

"Don't shoot, for...f-for fuck's sake!" he cried, shivering violently. "Don't kill me! I don't want to die!"

Elster narrowed her eyes. "...weren't you just talking about torturing and beating this man daily, just a moment ago?"

Hippolyta looked to Breach, whispering, "Was he?"

Breach shrugged. "I just heard his 'heathen lingo'."

"W-what's a little beating between good friends, am I right?" the Drukhari said, smiling weakly. "Back home, we do that all the time! Keeps the body strong, and you-know-who off your ass!" He laughed nervously, before coughing. Sweat poured down his skin.

"...I...don't know who?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow. She kept her laspistol trained.

"...f-for the sake of all the d-dead fucking gods!" the man shouted, scowling in terror. "Stop! Don't k-kill me!" Tears formed in his eyes. He began to whimper. "I don't want to die! D-don't let Her t-take me!"

"Who?" Elster said, half squeezing the trigger.

Shahrazad came up behind her and hugged her back. "Elster..."

"SHE WHO THIRSTS!" the Eldar shouted, screwing his eyes shut. He threw his arms over his face, sobbing.

"Elster!" Shahrazad yelled, pulling on her cloak. "Stop!"

Elster paused. She looked over her shoulder.

Tears ran down Shahrazad's face. "...p-please..."

The replika commander frowned, then looked back down at the kabalite. Watched the wretch shiver and sob.

Her children looked at her expectantly.

Finally, she sighed. "Fine." She lowered her weapon.

The man peeked one eye through his fingers. "...r-really?" he muttered in disbelief.

"Really?" Shahrazad breathed, eyes wide.

"Really?" Hippolyta said, tilting her head to the side, mouth agape. "We're just going to...let this piece of shit go?"

Elster tapped her thumb once or twice against her temple, thinking. She pointed at him. "Girls...stomp his ass a few times."

"Eh?" the kabalite said.

Kite grinned. "Okay."

Hippolyta, shock fading, smiled. "With pleasure."

The man howled, as a half dozen replika women stomped and kicked him. Until his pale flesh turned black and blue from the hoof-marks.

After about half a minute of sustained ass-whooping, Elster hugging Shahrazad all the while, she sighed. "Okay, that's enough."

The kabalite whimpered, curled into a ball on his side. He groggily raised his head, looking from behind a black eye. "...huff...ngh..."

Elster ground her hoof into his aching side once for good measure. "Now then..." she said, before kicking him over on his injured stomach. "Get out of here. Get lost. I don't want either us, or this poor man, to see you ever again."

"...heh...heh heh..." he gasped, smiling in relief. He started to crawl away. "N-no p-p-problem! I'll just...s-see my-s-ah-elf out-t-t!"

"Wait."

The kabalite froze. He looked over his shoulder, shivering.

Elster pulled a knife out.

"EH!?" he grunted, flinching.

She stooped, cut the strap off his shard rifle, then his belt. Stood up. Held the weapon in her hand, where he could see it.

"I'm keeping your shit, elfenmann," Elster said, waving it. "Can't have you shooting us in the back."

The man scowled, furrowing his brow. Fingers digging into the dirt. But he forced a pained smile. "...s-sure...you got it, n-neighbor..."

With that, the replikas permitted him to crawl away. When his own pain (and that of Naal) empowered him enough, he rose to his feet, and staggered. Limped, step by bloody step, away.

Before he slowly disappeared into the brush, he looked over his shoulder. Eyes glared daggers at Elster, committing her face to memory.

Then, he was gone.

Shahrazad leaned in close to Elster. "...he's vowing undying revenge," she whispered.

Elster sighed, nodding.

"I figured as much."

Chapter 49: Handwerkswelt

"He's in a great deal of pain."

Elster sat cross-legged on the ground, amid the mud and leaf-litter. Stared at the paralyzed alien.

"You can tell that just by feeling?" Elster said, propping her head up on one arm.

"Yes," Shahrazad said, nodding. She knelt at the alien's head, which lay propped up on a cotton bedroll. "I could tell from the hill. Whatever's paralyzing him isn't making him numb. Quite the opposite." She frowned.

Elster frowned as well, staring down at him. "What kind of monsters would make a poison like that?"

Rose paced back and forth, occasionally looking down at the Eldar. "...we have to help him, right?" she said, chewing her thumb. "We can't leave him like this." Her medical Servo Skull hovered over the alien, awaiting orders.

"We shouldn't, yes," Elster said, nodding. "I just...don't know what we can do for him...assuming it's a 'him' as we understand it." She scratched her cheek.

Kite walked over and unfurled a strip of leather in front of Elster, onto which were spread various alien-looking items. "Minus weapons, what I assume are grenades, and I think food - though there wasn't a lot of it - this is what the tweakers had on them."

"Tweakers?" Elster said, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, you saw them," Kite said, shrugging. "Those freaks were bouncing around and shaking like they were high. Or in withdrawal."

"They were feeding on pain," Shahrazad said. "When they were in proximity to suffering, even their own, their souls glowed a little less dim. And they experienced a rush of euphoria."

"Emotional vampires, huh?" Hipolyta said, looking over her shoulder from where she kept watch through the treeline.

In the distance, other replikas dutifully stamped out brush fires their las bolts started. Conveniently, the jungle was still damp from recent rains. But there was no assurance the fires wouldn't smolder, until the sun dried the foliage enough to catch fire. There was no sense starting one, if it could be helped.

"Seems like it," Elster said, glancing over at the Drukhari corpses assembled in a line. Or in a pile, in the case of the one who fell prey to his own grenade.

"Weird," Hippolyta said, looking away.

Rose stimmed fretfully, shaking her hands. "C-can we please just...go back to the alien in pain? Can we solve that?"

"Right. Shah, see if you can communicate with him," Elster said, nodding. She picked up a vial from the cache of equipment, inspecting it. She was beginning to realize Vashtorr may have granted her more language modules than just Imperial Terran. "...labels say...combat drugs? Maybe?"

"You can read that?" Kite said, raising an eyebrow. She crouched down to get a better look at the vial. "I couldn't make head or tails of that stuff."

"To be fair, I can't either," Elster said, sighing. " Not really. It's a lot of numerals and codes, from the-"

"Ow!"

Shahrazad recoiled, pulling her hands away from the alien's forehead. "Sorry!"

"Something the matter?" Elster said, looking up. "Is he hurting that much?"

"I mean yes, he is," the Kolibri winced, shaking her hands. "I expected that. But no, he just...really doesn't want me looking around in his head."

"Gee, I wonder why," Kite said, stretching her arms above her head.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, elfenmann," Elster said, looking down at the alien. "We can't help, if you won't talk to us."

"What?" Kite said, looking at Elster.

Elster looked up. She frowned.

All of her kids gave her weird looks.

"...what?"

"What language were you just speaking?" Rose asked, stopping her pacing.

Elster blinked. "...huh..."

It only just occurred to her that she spoke to the alien in his own tongue. Transitioned to it seamlessly.

"...sorry," Elster said, shifting back into Imperial Terran. "I was telling him we can't help if he won't respond to Shah."

Hippolyta turned her head, to talk over her shoulder. "We could always start injecting him with stuff we looted from those guys," she said shrugging. "See if one of them is some kind of antidote to the paralytic."

"...I..." Rose said, forcing a nervous smile, "...don't know if that's such a good..."

"Oh!" Shahrazad said, looking down. She cupped her hands around the alien's face. "I'm here, I'm here...yes, I'll tell them."

Elster gave a small smile. "Let me guess," she said, "he doesn't want us putting anything into his veins, right?"

Shahrazad nodded. "Half of that is poison, and the other half might as well be."

"Well, if we can't do that," Elster said, stretching her arms where she sat, "we have no idea how to treat him. It would be tricky, even without his foreign biochemistry."

Rose looked away, stimming with the zipper on her cargo pants. Zip, zip, zip. "...what if he's got friends somewhere nearby?" She looked at Elster. "If he's here, there's probably others like him." Glanced nervously at the corpses nearby. "Others who don't wish him ill."

"Not a bad idea," Elster said, nodding. She looked down at the alien. "Well? How about it, herr Fremde?"

Shahrazad frowned, staring into the alien's twitching eyes. "...he's...reluctant to betray the position of his people..."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to leave him behind, then," Elster said, sighing. Put her hooves under her and stood. "While I'm willing to entertain a humanitarian aid digression...or whatever kind of aid you give an...Aeldari...? Is that what you're called?" She stretched her arm over her head. Grunted. "...ngh...we're on a mission here. So much to do, so little time to do it."

"W-what?" Rose said, leaning forward. Frowned. "We can't leave him here! He'll die of hunger or thirst or exposure!"

"Plus," Kite said, folding her hands behind her head, "that Irre might still be hanging around. He'd want to nab this guy again, if for no reason than to feed on his pain."

The alien twitched, shivering.

"Good point," Hippolyta said, continuing her vigil. "Hey Shah, is that guy still around?"

Shahrazad looked up, staring into space. She pressed two fingers to her temple. "...yes," she said, nodding. "He's not too far, and he's not moving away."

"Hear that?" Kite said, nudging the alien's leg with her hoof. "Your 'friend' is still around. You sure you don't want to tell us where we can find your people?"

The alien audibly choked, shivering violently.

"..." Shahrazad frowned, staring at the alien. "...please, just tell us," she whispered. "We want to help you."

Elster sighed, picking up the leather strip and rolling it into a bundle. "If he really doesn't want our help, Shah, we can't force him. We have a schedule to keep." She stowed the bundle in her bag and turned around. "Come on, girls. Gather the others, and..."

"No!" Rose yelled, stamping her hoof. Her medical servo skull rose to hover at her shoulder. "I'm not leaving him behind! Not where that..." She pointed vaguely out into the jungle. "Th-that Monstrum can get him! That would be evil!"

Elster looked over her shoulder at the Ara. Then, she frowned. "...ugh..." she sighed, massaging her temple. Verdammt...

 

"Whoa. Look at all this."

The replikas trudged from the treeline, entering a relative clearing. They craned their heads up, marveling at the structures already ancient when they were abandoned.

Thick vines and moss coated great buildings and spires. Their once clean, bone-colored surfaces tarnished brown and green and black by two hundred years of precipitation, algae, and mold. Life that clung to microscopic cracks, hewed open by decades of creeping vine and probing water. Rain collecting in the shadows of great oblong protrusions, framing the edges with dark spots.

But far from being ruined by the discoloration and plant growth, the structures were rendered, if anything, more majestic. Melding the truly organic with the rounded, curving, organic architecture. A settlement given over to environmental reclamation and desolate beauty.

"Keep moving, everyone," Hippolyta said, waving the group on. "We're on the clock."

Elster looked back at where Helga carried Naal's paralyzed body. Studied the alien's armor. Noted the same rounded oblong protrusions as adorned the buildings. She looked up, studying a statue holding a spear out front, wearing a helmet with a blank face and prominent head crest. "I think this guy comes from the same civilization as the builders here."

"You think he lives here?" Kite said, looking around.

"His armor is in reasonably good condition," Rose said, readying her lasgun just in case. Her servo skull floated along dutifully in her wake. "Would they keep their equipment that pristine, but leave their buildings to decay?"

"They're probably here to recover materials from the ruins," Elster said, looking forward. Much like us, really, she thought, pulling up her wrist-mounted coordination module. Tapped buttons. "Well, we might run into them soon. Our destination is just this way."

They passed beneath the shadow of two structures that curved towards one another, meeting at their zenith, erected in the center of an open plaza. Flanked by two statues of Eldar warriors that blended seamlessly into them. Between them, a wide space, bearing the semblance of a threshold.

"...hnnh..." The alien shifted, the barest motor control returning to his body. He grimaced in pain, clenching his teeth. His blond hair matted by sweat against his scalp. His breaths were shallow, and staggered.

Shahrazad patted his arm, struggling to keep pace with the Schnapper's long stride. "Don't worry," she said, as much to his mind as in her voice. "If your people are here, we'll find them."

Naal frowned, shivering.

The Kolibri frowned. "...is it alright if you tell me your name?"

Naal settled, unable to get comfortable with the burning in his veins. "..."

He screwed his eyes shut. ...Naal, he thought. Naal Hanali, of Craftworld Ulthwé.

Shahrazad smiled, patting his arm again. "Nice to meet you, Naal," she said. "My name is Shahrazad."

Naal frowned, staring into the blue sky. ...you all shouldn't tread here. It's not for mon-kei...not for humans.

The Kolibri stared forward, silent.

Passing under a bridge connecting two buildings, they arrived at a rocky cliff at the west end of the settlement. Vines and moss clung to the cliffside, insinuating themselves into cracks between sedimentary layers. Even trees rooted themselves in the sheer stone, or into patches of soil that accumulated on their craggy eaves. The jungle growth continued on the level above.

At the base of the cliff, a set of grand double doors was built into the stone wall. Constructed in the same bone-colored material, draped in creeping vines.

The doors were ajar, their foliage manually cut away. Beyond, the yawning dark.

Pausing, Elster pressed fingers to her temple. Consulted her memory module for images supplied by Vashtorr. "...this is it," she said. "Let's go..." She raised a hoof to step forward.

"HALT!"

Elster's eyes shot up.

Lithe, armored figures erupted from the overgrown cliffside. Black armor with white helmets and white weapons. A dozen leaped out, landing around the forward elements of the replika column.

"Shit! Behind us!" Hipppolyta shouted, pointing her lasgun backwards.

Elster looked fearfully over her shoulder, seeing more black-clad aliens slip from hidden doors or hatches in the structures behind them. A few cloak-clad figures peeked from windows, training long shuriken rifles on the replikas.

Her children, surprised and alarmed, cried out, fumbling with weapons or ducking instinctively. Shahrazad took shelter in front of Helga, throwing arms over her head.

Then, just as Elster's hand reached by habit to the laspistol at her side, one last figure landed just behind her.

"Mom!" Rose cried, mechadendrites flailing in alarm.

"Hands where I can see them, mon-keigh!" whispered the Eldar, through his helmet. He pressed a power sword to her neck. Just to illustrate his threat, he allowed the blade to flare to life for a second, flashing blue light into her eyes.

Elster swallowed, and shot her hands up. "No one move!" she shouted, without looking behind her.

"...sh-shit!" Hippolyta grunted, letting her lasgun hang from her neck. She raised her hands.

"Typical," Kite sighed, following suit.

One by one, the replikas all held hands to the sky, watching the aliens with fear, wariness, or resignation. All except Helga, whose arms were busy holding the paralyzed Naal.

Many eyes looked to Elster, concerned for her wellbeing.

The Eldar militia leader pressed a shuriken pistol to Elster's back. She shivered, as the barrel accidentally jammed into a pressure point. Against her will, she blushed, moaned. "Ngh..."

"Why do you have one of mine, mon-keigh?" he said, through gritted teeth. He spoke functional, but heavily accented, Imperial Terran. "What did you do to him?"

"We d-did nothing to him, I can assure you," Elster said, taken aback. "Aufrichtig! Honest!" Lips screwed up, mortified.

"Liar!" he said, jamming his pistol deeper into her back.

Elster shivered, grimacing at the jolt of sensation. "...p-please not there, thank you very much," she mumbled, face beet red.

"We didn't hurt him, alright?" Hippolyta shouted at the Eldar leader, then looking around. "We saved his life! Those other guys were going to take him!"

The leader paused, pulled his pistol back fractionally. "What 'other guys' does she speak of?" he said, in a more measured tone. "This better not be some trick, mon-keigh."

"Fivin!" cried one of the militia members, pointing a shuriken catapult behind the replika group. She gestured with the end of her weapon. "They've got dark kin weapons on them."

Not taking eyes off their captives, the other Eldar whispered among themselves in alarm.

"Drukhari?"

"Here?"

"How did they...?"

The leader's face rose fractionally. He pressed the blade to Elster's throat for security, then holstered his pistol. He patted the replika commander's belt, pulling out a splinter pistol. "...why do you have this? Where did you get it?"

"We told you," Elster breathed, leaning her head back. "We encountered those other Elfenmenn. Others of your kind. Chasing him. Our psyker sensed your man's fear, and their unspeakable ill intent. He got shot by one of their darts, and became as you see him now." Hands still raised, she pointed a finger to the long-las on her back. "So we intervened. We figured they had nothing but bad plans for him. They weren't expecting a sniper."

The alien wheezed. "You? A mon-keigh, killed Aeldari?" he said, incredulous. Stuck the splinter pistol into his belt. "I find that hard to believe."

"It wasn't easy, no," Elster said. She pointed down to her chest. "Check my front. I got a load of blood from one of them on me, when she was on top of me, trying to stab my neck."

The guardian's expression hidden, he quickly pivoted around her. Pressed the tip of his blade against the replika's throat.

Elster swallowed, staring into the dark lens of the alien's helmet.

After a moment, viewing her closely, he raised his free hand and removed his helmet.

Brown hair cascaded down his back and onto his shoulder. He carried the same fey features as other Eldar, much like Naal. High cheekbones, flawless complexion, pointed ears. Not dissimilar to the Drukhari, though in far better health. He regarded her with severe eyes.

Elster met his gaze, unflinching.

Fivin the militia captain traced the black polyethaline skin of her neck with his eyes. He shifted the angle of the blade. Moved the scarf around her neck down, to get a better look at her artificial body.

"Hands behind your head," he ordered. When Elster complied, he leaned in, taking a handful of Elster's poncho. Pressed the blood-stained fabric near his face.

Sniff, sniff.

Elster cocked an eyebrow.

The captain sneered. "...smells Aeldari," he said, "and of a complex cocktail of stimulants, narcotics, and steroids."

He let go of her poncho and stepped back. Drew his blade away, though still positioned to thrust if needed. "I believe your story, mon-keigh cyborg," he said. "...how many did you kill?"

"Three of four," Elster said, exhaling. Raised two fingers. "I downed two at long range. When they closed rapidly, we killed the other two. One survived my snipe, and...got away."

"You choose your words carefully," Fivin said, not missing a beat. "Did they escape...or did you let them go?"

Elster sighed. "The latter. He begged for his life. Said something about not wanting 'She Who Thirsts' to get him."

Every Eldar present flinched.

Fivin mastered his expression as best he could. "...I...see..."

"I assume that means something to you, then?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"That's none of your concern," Fivin said quickly.

Shahrazad squirmed, looking between the Eldar around them and the one in Helga's arms. "...hey..." she said, placing a hand on Helga's arm and shaking against it, "can we get him some help? He's in a lot of pain."

"Ja, please!" Rose said, pressing hands to her heart. "We didn't know what to do."

The Eldar leader sighed, motioning with a hand.

At once, one of his associates walked amidst the replikas and stood before Helga. "Put him down, giant," she ordered, pointing to the ground.

"Ja, ma'am," Helga said, stooping. She gently placed Naal on the ground, before backing up a step.

The guardian set her shuriken catapult aside, then examined the downed Eldar. "...paralytic," she said, in the Eldar language. Touched his face. Felt the back of his neck. "They intended to take him to the Dark City."

Shahrazad knelt on the ground at Naal's feet, keeping her hands where others could see them. She stared at the ailing alien, frowning.

Fivin looked at Elster. "Did you leave their supplies behind, mon-keigh?"

"As a matter of fact, we took as much as we could with us," Elster said. She pointed down to her side. "I've got a bunch in a leather bundle in my bag."

The leader motioned another of his people over.

The figure approached, rooting around in the satchel. Removed the leather bundle, then walked over to the militia member already knelt before Naal.

What may have been their designated medic took the bundle and unfurled it on the ground. Gloved hands picked through vials and stims, reading labels. Finally, she held up one stim in particular.

"Is that an antidote?" Shahrazad said, leaning forward.

The medic turned her head, regarding the Kolibri from behind her helmet. "...why is this any of your concern?" she said. "Mon-keigh usually respond to our kind with murderous hate."

"I can feel his pain," Shahrazad said, looking at her seriously. "I couldn't leave him to suffer like this."

The Eldar regarded her, inscrutably. "...you are your party's seer?" the medic said.

"J-ja, I suppose," Shahrazad said, nodding. "One of them."

"You didn't force your way into his mind, did you?" the medic said, turning. She leaned over the paralyzed figure. Massaged a spot on his neck. Removed a stick from her belt and uncapped it, before smearing the clear, antiseptic fluid over the skin.

"No. Absolutely not," the Kolibri said. "I reached out to mister Naal, to see how I could help him."

"..." The medic pressed the stim to his skin, thumb depressing button to inject. "We shall see."

 

"Yes...these people saved me."

Naal turned to the replikas, attempting to rise to his feet. When his legs shook, the medic rose and steadied him. He nodded to the medic, then looked to the replikas. "...I...cannot express my gratitude, even in my own tongue. Let alone yours." He nodded gratefully to Rose in particular. "You especially, technic human. You insisted on helping me. For that, I thank you."

Rose bowed. "You're welcome."

Elster turned to Fivin, gesturing at Naal with her whole arm. "See? Can we put down the weapons now, elfenmann?"

The leader frowned. He sighed. "At ease," Fivin called.

Replikas sighed with relief as the Eldar militia lowered their weapons.

"Well, now that that's settled," Elster said, pointing to the door in the cliff face. "We have a timetable to keep. We'll be heading in there, thank you." She started walking, motioning her children to follow.

Fivin threw his whole arm in front of Elster, waving it. "You absolutely will NOT," he barked, exasperated. "Save our kin or not, your kind have no right to be on this planet, let alone go plumbing our sites for plunder!"

"Stingy," Kite called, cupping a hand next to her mouth.

Fivin pulled out his shuriken pistol.

Elster held up her hands. "Fine, fine," she sighed, shutting her eyes. She turned around. "Come on, girls. We're heading back up."

"Wait, what!?" Hippolyta yelled, throwing her hands up. "A lot of us almost died back there!"

"And we trudged through a jungle for, like, hours," Breach said, frowning behind her face mask.

Naal held up his hand, shoulder his shuriken catapult. "Please, understand," he said, frowning, "these are what's left of our people's legacy. We can't let it be looted, even by...uh..."

"You need give no explanation, Naal," Fivin said, crossing his arms. "An Aeldari Maiden World is for Eldar only. No matter how much the human species conquers, nor to what lows we've sunk, our pride will not allow it." He pointed to the replikas. "You may leave, or die. This is the choice the Aeldari have always given to the younger races, when they come treading the worlds WE seeded with life. Take your pick."

"Very well," Elster said, stepping towards her children. She waved them on. "Let's go, girls. These aren't our ruins to ransack. We're going home."

"Mon-keigh," Fivin said. When Elster turned to him, he tossed the Drukhari splinter pistol to her. "Make consolation from what you looted from our dark kin. They are yours by right."

"Danke," Elster nodded, stuffing the weapon into her belt. She turned, and resumed walking.

But Elster, Shahrazad thought, looking up at the replika commander as she passed, what about your debt?

There'll be many more opportunities for that, Shah, Elster thought, reaching down and taking the Kolibri's hand. We have no time to waste waiting for a more favorable opportunity to get in, especially now they're proven they know about us and can sense our approach. Nor is risking our lives against them profitable. We'll find other work.

Naal walked back to join the other Eldar. After a moment's hesitation, he raised his hand and waved awkwardly. "Farewell! Thank you for saving me!"

Shahrazad looked over her shoulder, waving and smiling sadly.

Rose did the same, then turned to join the now reluctantly retreating replikas.

The Kolibri halted suddenly. Stared into space, then looked over her shoulder. "...wait..."

Elster nearly tripped, hand clutching the Kolibri's. "Ah! W-what?" she said, looking back.

"What's the matter?" Fivin said, irate. "I already told you..."

"Someone is coming," Shahrazad said, pointing past the Eldar. "Someone scared."

"...what?" Fivin said. His eyes widened. He looked over his shoulder, at the set of wide-open double doors.

The frantic patter of footsteps, not even trying to be quiet.

"...FIVIN! NAAL! ANYONE! COME QUICK!"

Two Eldar militia members erupted from the doors, quick as their nimble feet could carry. They staggered to a stop in front of Fivin, panting.

"Thiala! Peren!" Naal said, staggering over to join his leader. "Where's Enna? Wasn't she with you?"

"What's the matter?" Fivin said. "What's the emergency?"

One of the militia members, sans helmet, doubled over, panting. She looked up, terrified. "...huff...it's Enna!" Thiala cried. "We w-were...huff...exploring the tunnels, wh...when..."

"It was...gah...a trap!" gasped her companion. Peren ripped his white helmet off, panting. Sweat poured down his brown hair.

"A trap!?" Naal cried. Horrified, he stepped forward and clutched the man's arm. "What kind of trap? Is she okay? Tell me!"

"...hah...hah...she's...she's bleeding!" the woman said. "A blade came down, and it...oh Isha, her...guh...her legs..." She started to cry, covering her face. "There was so much blood!"

Naal went pale.

"Naal," Fivin said, gravely. Looked sideways at his subordinate. "No. It's too..."

Naal, despite having only just regained control of his body, pushed through the assembled Eldar and ran. His feet kicked up mud, as he bolted to the door.

"NAAL!" Fivin yelled, running halfway to the door himself. "...Khaine's blood..." he cursed under his breath, as the young man disappeared from his sight.

The medic ran over. "We need to hurry," she said, fishing her belt for medical supplies. "If we can..."

"No!"

The assembled Eldar flinched, looking at their leader.

Fivin grimaced, shutting his eyes. "...we can't...keep throwing good lives after..." He bit his tongue, not daring to say "after lost ones". His chest heaved. "If you don't recall, we are dying. Our people can't afford to lose anyone else."

"Is that not more reason to help Enna, then?" the medic said, gesturing with her hands.

Peren pointed to the doors. "And what of Naal? He'll get himself killed! He wasn't here when we explored the tunnels! He doesn't know where the traps are!"

"Especially since he's still recovering from paralysis," the medic said, pressing fingers to her helmet. She shook her head.

"He did?" Peren said, shocked.

"When did this...?" Thiala said.

Step, step, step.

The Eldar, so absorbed in their own bickering, only noticed the replika commander approach when she walked past them. They did a double take.

"I'm going in after them," Elster said, hefting her lasgun.

Fivin sputtered, apoplectic. "Th-the hell you are!" he yelled in Imperial Terran. He pointed a finger at her. "I already told you, you can't..."

Elster stopped abruptly, then glared over her shoulder.

Fivin's ire withered. "..."

"...I understand you're concerned for the well-being of your race," Elster said, in the Eldar tongue. "Which is why I will go. I've already done all I can to preserve my people. And I'm a lot more expendable, and durable, than you."

The group of quasi-immortals stared, stunned. They watched as the replika turned again.

"Any of you who wants to follow after me, come along," Elster said, not looking over her shoulder.

"Hey!" Hippolyta shouted, running after. "I'm coming too!"

Elster turned. "No, you're not!" she yelled, pointing. "You need to lead the others back if I fall!"

"And who's going to retrieve your body if you do!?" Hippolyta retorted.

Rose ran up beside her, heedless of the Eldar that pointed weapons at her. "At least take me!" the Ara yelled. "You might need technical assistance!" She pointed to the servo skull hovering along with her. "Plus, I have this guy! He could be useful!"

Elster sighed. "Fine," she said, screwing her eyes shut. "Rose can come." She pointed to the Storch. "Hip, stay with the rest. If we don't come out, come rescue us. Shah, keep us in touch!"

"Will do!" Shahrazad said. She walked up to Hippolyta and took her hand. "Come on," she whispered. "You know mom would get mad if you died to some trap."

Hippolyta grimaced, then sighed. "Fine!" She yelled to the retreating commander. "Don't you dare die, okay!?"

"I'll try!" Elster said, waving without looking. "Come on, Rose. And stay a few steps behind me."

As the two replikas made for the door, Fivin composed himself. He glared at them, then grunted. "...ngh...Thiala! You know the way in. We're following!"

"Uh...right!" Thiala said.

"Watch the mon-keigh!" Fivin said, to the remaining Eldar.

The medic nodded. "Understood...and may Asuryan be with you."

Fivin nodded, then stomped towards the door, followed by his junior companion.

He shouted, "I don't permit this, save under duress, lumber-foots!"

Elster smiled, looking over her shoulder as she crossed the threshold. "That's 'lumber-hooves' to you, messerohr."

Chapter 50: Disappointment

"There you are."

Naal Hanali struggled vainly against the tangle of prehensile tendrils that erupted from the floor. Bone-white and segmented, they coiled around his limbs, torso, and neck.

"Ngh!" he grunted, writhing weakly. "H-help me! I need...ngh...to save..."

"We'll be right there!" Thiala called. She hopped once over a patch of dense, irregular tiles that lined the floor. Each tile etched deep by arcane Aeldari symbols of deep mythological significance. "Mon-keigh," she said, turning on the ball of her foot. "Step where I step. I will lead you across."

Fivin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We don't have time for the mon-keigh to navigate it with their clumsy...hoof-work," he said. Pointed across the room. "Just deactivate the trap, so we may proceed."

"Ah! Right!" The woman sped across the room quickly, nimbly depressing specific tiles, before bounding again in the same motion. Before the replikas even had time to process the path, the Eldar reached the far door of the hall. She reached into a recess behind a pillar.

K'chunk.

The tendrils, by some unseen signal, released their captive. Then retracted into the floor, via a series of small holes positioned at intersections between tiles.

"Ah!" Naal cried, falling to the ground. "Oof..."

Rose tested the tiles once with a hoof, then crossed the hall quickly. "Are you okay?" she said, leaning over the militia member.

Naal rubbed his wrist, then looked up. "...why are...?" He shook his head, taking the offered hand. "Ngh..." he grunted, being pulled to his feet. "...thank you again..."

"You're welcome," Rose said, nodding.

"We don't have time for this," Elster said, crossing the room. "Come along. Your friend is waiting, right?"

"R-right!" Naal said, jogging ahead.

"Don't do anything foolish, Naal," Fivin shouted. "You'll do Enna no good if you get yourself hurt as well." As they walked to the end of the hall, he gestured to the replikas. "Allow the mon-keigh to risk herself, since she seems intent on it."

Elster eyed the spot where Naal was trapped. Lingered only a second, then jogged to place herself ahead of the group.

"Is it alright to let a mon...let a human in?" Naal said, hefting his shuriken catapult.

"We'll activate the traps again when we leave," Fivin said. "They'll have no chance of solving it."

"Actually, I already figured that one out," Elster said, stroking her chin. She walked side by side with Thiala, following the Eldar woman's directions.

"Eh?" Thiala said, looking sideways.

Naal gawked, huffing and puffing to keep up. "..."

"Really?" Rose said, looking over her shoulder.

"W-what?" Fivin sputtered. "Impossible! Yes, you have...uncommon knowledge of our language, but you couldn't..."

"The symbols are a smoke-screen," Elster said, looking over her shoulder. "I had a feeling about it when Thiala crossed the room, but looking at where Naal was caught clinched it." She looked forward again. "The irregular pattern of tiles means some holes are positioned at either an intersection of three or four lines. The 'safe' tiles, from what I could tell, were all placed equidistant from holes at four-line intersections."

Fivin vibrated. "...t-t-t...I...you figured that out just then? At a glance?" He looked over his shoulder at the retreating trap hall.

"...I..." Thiala said, blinking at her. "I...didn't even know that..."

Elster shrugged. "Perhaps you were so busy deciphering from culture clues, you missed the mechanical synergy."

"...are...are you an engineer, miss...Elster, was it?" Naal said.

"Ja, actually," Elster said, nodding. "Admittedly, your advanced technology is beyond me. But I figured something robust enough to last centuries..."

"Millennia," Fivin said, scowling.

"...millennia, ja," Elster nodded, "would need to be built with precise standardization. Changing up the arrangement of port holes would create unnecessary mechanical complexity that might break down over time. Moreover, it's easier to account for cultural or linguistic drift if there's a 'cheat' built in."

Rose forced a smile. "That's mom for you," she said, nodding.

Elster shrugged. "It's not like I had much to contribute, when it came to the symbols. So I worked with what I could."

She picked up the pace. "Come on, we need to move faster."

 

"How do you understand our language?"

Thiala lead Rose by the hand through a maze of shifting mirrors. Behind them, Naal did the same with Elster. Fivin took up the rear, keeping watch.

Elster shrugged, eyes picking out her and the others' faces in the mirrors. "...my...employer provided the language model," she said. Withholding that she hadn't even been aware of it before today.

"...your employer..." Fivin muttered. He was about to make a big deal of it, before he was forced to avert his gaze from his reflection. He grimaced, shutting his eyes.

"A language module?" Naal said, looking back. "What does that mean?"

"It means..." Elster paused, eyes following a version of herself in a mirrored surface. Herself, arm and chest plate torn off. She shut her eyes, looking away. She could have sworn her doppelganger kept looking at her when she did. "...it means," she grunted, "our particular branch of the human family tree are not natural."

"I mean, it's obvious you're augmented," Naal said, following Thiala and Rose around a corner.

"We were born this way, actually," Elster said. She saw another vision of herself, from another time, another place. A version of her stripped down to the base chassis, sans polyetheline skin. A painted, titanium skull staring, rictus grin and unblinking, at her. "...we're clones of an earlier human template, put together from vat-grown organs and artificial parts. And imprinted with a copy of that template individual's neural pattern. This imprinting process can include language modules."

"Oh!" Naal said, surprised. "...you...are your previous self, reborn?" He looked over his shoulder.

Elster looked at him. She shivered, seeing Her staring back from over the alien's shoulder. The gestalt mirrored her own frown, her left (right?) eye socket covered in a bandage. Brown hair. Eusan Nation dress uniform.

"..." Elster averted her gaze. The replika nodded slowly, mastering herself. "Yes. In a manner of speaking."

Naal's expression brightened. He looked past her. "Fivin," he said, "do you think we could...?"

"Out of the question," Fivin said, shaking his head. He pointed forward, forcing them to keep moving. "...setting aside we shouldn't debase ourselves by subjecting our minds, bodies, and souls to mon-keigh technology...it wouldn't protect us. She chose her words deliberately. She is a copy of that former human. Not the human herself. A new soul, not a vessel for the old one, as once our people enjoyed."

Rose kept her eyes to the ground. She inclined her head to the side, to hint at a look over the shoulder. "...your people reincarnate?"

"...we did." Fivin's upper lip twitched. "Before."

"..." Rose lowered her gaze, frowning. "...oh..."

Elster's hand traced a mirrored surface, where a version of her with her Eusan Nation hat sat alongside Ariane. The gestalt smiling, hand gently caressing the replika's shoulder. Elster's fingers traced the curve of the gestalt's cheek. Then, in a moment, the mirrors shifted, banishing the vision.

"Do not get distracted, mon-keigh," Fivin said, nudging her along. "No matter how...exquisite the reflection. No matter how the visions beckon so sweetly." He shut his eyes, frowning. "An image...is just an image. That is not which once was. Perhaps, will never be again."

"..." Elster stared at the ground, following Naal's footfalls. "...who is...She Who Thirsts?"

The Eldar all flinched, then kept moving.

"...she is..." Naal began, trembling.

"Naal," Fivin said, in a tone that brooked no comment. When Naal fell silent, Fivin sighed. Shook his head. "...she is...our sins made manifest. The sins of our people, compounded until they burst forth to consume us. She thirsts now for all our souls."

Elster squeezed Naal's hand. "...that's...not a metaphor, is it?"

"..." Fivin scowled. "...we used to rule this galaxy, you know. Your kind - humans, that is - were guests in our reality. You and every other species. Permitted to exist, because we were magnanimous." He looked away. "It seems like only yesterday, even now..."

Elster looked over her shoulder. She saw the militia leader stare in a mirror, face contorted in leashed pain.

He clutched a jewel affixed to his chest. "...now...we who survived the pangs of Her birth...root around the ruins of our past, just to survive our present. We have no future."

Elster looked away. "...obviously, you don't fully believe that," she said.

"What makes you say such a thing?" Fivin said, joylessly.

"Because you wouldn't be trying so hard," Elster said, not looking back to him. "To live, that is." She eyed herself in the mirror. An Elster draped in a fur cape, festooned with weapons. Clutching a greatsword that glowed white.

"How can you be so sure? How can a human understand Aeldari?"

Elster permitted herself a small smile.

"Because fighting against the extinction of your people is a sentiment I understand very well."

 

"...someone...anyone..."

"Enna!" Naal shouted, running forward. "ENNA!"

Thiala grabbed his wrist, holding him back. "Stop! The pressure plates are lethal!"

"...Naal...?"

Near the end of the hallway, across a series of identical plates, multiple paces long and spanning the width of the hall, lay a figure in black armor.

She stirred, forcing herself up onto her arms. Scarlet leaked from the stumps at the ends of her legs. The severed feet lay behind her.

"Enna!" Naal cried, reaching out towards her. His voice cracked. "Don't worry! We're coming! Just hang on!"

"I assume the nature of the trap is slicing blade?" Elster said, pointing to the pressure plates that lined the ground.

"Yes," Thiala said. She pointed to the walls. "Vertical. But also, horizontal. That's what caught Enna. It came from behind."

Elster followed lines in the walls with her eyes. Vertical seams lay at regular intervals. Too often to guess which might have hidden blades behind them. For all she knew, Eldar technology might permit such miniaturization that each and every seam could contain a waiting blade.

Another three seams ran horizontally across the length of the passage. One each at neck, waist, and leg height.

Rose stepped forward. "I can send the skull over, to render basic medical aid," she said, pointing to the machine hovering at her shoulder.

Elster looking to Fivin. "Do your bodies work similarly enough to a humans to make that possible?" She pointed to the tools dangling from the skull. "I wouldn't want to cause more problems, in our attempt to help."

Fivin rubbed his head, frustrated. "...gods...should have brought Hatae. Foolish, foolish..."

"Is that your medic?" Elster asked. She pressed fingers to her temple. "Hold on. I can get Shah to connect us. If that's alright."

"Do it!" Naal said, snapping his head toward Elster.

Fivin nodded. "Do it."

Elster nodded. Shah. Can you connect their medic to Rose? We need her expertise to help this woman. Her name is 'Hatae'.

I'll ask, Shahrazad thought. A moment later, she returned. She agreed. I'll connect to Rose now.

Hurry, Elster thought, nodding.

Rose's eyes lit up. She nodded, then sat down on the floor. Closed her eyes, and pressed fingers to her temple.

The servo skull shuddered, then floated forward. Making sure to fly parallel to the horizontal seams, in case some unseen countermeasure sent a blade down the hall.

"Enna!" Naal yelled. "The mon...the humans are sending a device! It will help you!"

"...why...are mon-keigh..." the injured woman croaked. Enna watched, weakly and bewildered, as the metal skull, festooned with dangling cables that ended in sharp blade and syringes, hovered toward her. "...is...is this thing safe?"

"Your medic is in touch with its operator!" Elster called, cupping a hand to her mouth. "Just be still! We'll do the best we can!"

Reluctantly, Enna rolled over, wincing as she presented her dripping legs. Strips of soiled cloth were tied roughly around her stumps, to stem bloodloss.

Rose, eyes shut, whispered. "I apologize," she said, "I don't think our anesthetic is safe to use on you. We'll have to work without." From the end of the hall, they heard the same words whine, electronically distorted, from the skull's speaker.

Enna swallowed, then nodded. "...d-do it..." she croaked, holding her legs up as best she could. Her face was so pale. As the skull lowered and began its work, she hissed, clasping her eyes shut. "Ngh!"

Naal wrung his hands, unable to take his eyes off. "...careful, careful," he said, gesturing to Rose.

"Let me work please," Rose muttered, focusing.

"..."

Fivin sighed, watching the skull operate from afar. "We'll still need to retrieve her," he said. "She won't be able to dodge any blades, in her condition."

"Could the floating device deactivate the trap?" Naal said, pacing back and forth. Cringing with each stifled cry from the woman.

"The switches are heavy," Thiala said, covering her mouth. "Its dainty limbs may not have the strength."

Elster turned to Fivin. "I'll start heading over, if that's alright?"

Thiala pointed, looking to Elster. "The only horizontal blade activates near the end, where Enna is. So long as she and your device stay low, they'll be safe until you get there."

"How far until I hit a blade trigger?" Elster said, nodding.

"The first three didn't activate anything."

"Lull intruders into a false sense of security," Elster muttered. She stood at the edge of the trap section, eyeing where the seams stopped short. Taking a breath, she took one hoofstep.

The plate lowered slightly.

"..."

Elster exhaled, stepping forward, fully onto the plate.

Shhhing.

A blade on a pendulum swing across the hallway right in front of her.

The Eldar all flinched.

Elster stood ramrod straight, mouth screwing up. "...you...were saying?" she breathed, smiling nervously.

Thiala threw her hands up. "I-I swear! I wasn't lying!" she said, wide-eyed. "That didn't happen before! Honest!"

Elster's eyes studied the seams. The plates below. She strained her engineer's ears, listening to the faint clunk of ancient mechanisms in the walls and floor.

She shuffled her hooves back, to stand on the back edge of the plate. Gulping, she bent her legs, then hopped straight up. The plate lifted up fractionally, then depressed again as she landed.

Shhhing.

The Eldar flinched, watching the blade swing past and disappear into the wall, this time moving in the opposite direction.

"Why did it not work before?" Naal asked, eyes darting around.

"I don't..." Thiala said, chewing her thumb.

Elster tapped her leg with her fingers, pensively. "...Thiala...were your group going through one at a time?"

"Y-yes, obviously," Thiala said. "We couldn't risk getting in each others' way, in case we needed to dodge the blades. Why?"

"The problem is weight," Elster said, pointing to the plates. "The plates are long enough that multiple people can cross at once, if bunched up in formation. So the plates...or at least this one...intend to catch people in the middle of groups. After the forward individuals make it seem like it's safe to cross. It's possible they even intended for intruders to panic, and start running, to blunder into subsequent traps."

"Then what's different?" Thiala said.

"Me," Elster said. She turned to look over her shoulder, and tapped her head. "I have a titanium skeleton. I'm heavier than any single person. Or any single Eldar, anyway." She looked forward again.

Thiala rubbed her fingers into her scalp. "I'm sorry...I have no idea how many more blades could line the path, then."

Elster crossed her arms, thinking. "...Fivin."

"Hmm?" Fivin grunted, inclining his chin up fractionally.

"Can I borrow that power sword of yours?"

The militia leader bristled. "You may no-!" He bit his tongue, then crossed his arms. "...what are you planning?"

"If these power weapons work how I'm told they work..." Elster said, cocking her head to the side. "...I could have a solution for this." She looked over her shoulder. "If you're willing to trust me."

Fivin grumbled. Then, reluctantly, he drew his power sword and handed it off. He stepped back quickly, keeping a hand on the shuriken pistol at his belt. "Choose your actions carefully, human."

Elster nodded, raising the sword. She studied the blade, finding the switch at its guard. She thumbed the switch, and the sword roared to life. Bathing the corridor around them in blue glow. Thrumming with power, as the energized blade stripped air molecules of their atomic bonds on contact. "Step back," she said.

The Eldar gave her a wide berth, as the replika hopped up once again.

Shhhing.

She watched the blade move across the width of the hall. Studied its trajectory. When it slid into the wall, she listened. Engineer's ears absorbing the sound. She hopped again.

Shhhing.

The blade swing again, the opposite direction. Again, she allowed it to pass, eyes watching it. Noted the structure of the blade itself.

She hopped a third time.

Shhhing-ing-ing.

In one motion, Elster hopped a second time, then swung the power sword high. Directly in the path of the blade, the borrowed weapon glowing.

The top of the blade, attached to the ceiling, slid into the wall again. It's bottom two thirds followed the arc of motion a meter, before crashing down to the ground. The blade bit into the top of the pressure plate, scoring a cut into the stone material.

"Ah!" Naal cried, watching the blade fall.

"I see," Fivin said, nodding.

Rose cracked one eye open. "...what's going on?" she muttered.

Elster, back on the ground, kicked the wobbling blade with her hoof, causing it to fall over.

"...that is," Fivin said, cocking an eyebrow, "one way to handle it. Albeit inelegant."

Elster shrugged, deactivating the blade. "If you're thinking this seems like a caveman approach," she said, looking over her shoulder, "understand that there's nothing inherently civilized about playing by someone else's rules, when those rules intend to murder you."

 

"Stay low, just in case."

Enna winced from the pain of her sewn-closed legs. She nodded warily, pressing herself as flat as possible. "...g-go..."

Elster nodded. Activated the power sword again. "Right," she said, standing with her back turned to the fallen woman. "Here I go."

She steadied herself, looking back at the hall full of broken blades. Gripped the sword.

She hopped back, both hooves touching down on the pressure plate behind her.

Ssshing.

Running forward, Elster leaped up, pulling her hooves above the line of the lowest horizontal seam.

The blade rushed forward, crossing the hallway at great speed.

In midair, Elster timed it, then swung under her and to her left side. Thumbed the switch on the hilt. The crackling weapon slid through the massive blade like a scythe through grain.

"Eek!" Enna squeaked, raising her legs up as the broken hunk of metal crashed to the ground and skidded across the stone floor. It came to rest under her knees. She unclenched, resting her aching stumps down on the metal, marring its surface with residual blood. "...oooh..." she sighed, head dropping to the ground.

"You d-did it!" Naal cried.

"Good work, mom!" Rose called, clapping.

Elster nodded, panting. She turned around, stalking to the end of the hall. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking down.

"..." Enna stared into the ceiling, physically and emotionally drained. "...is this one of your mon-keigh jests?" she breathed. "Because I've definitely felt better."

"Es tut mir Leid," Elster said, sheepishly. "Sorry." She walked past the Eldar, and stalked carefully to the last pressure plate.

Stepping on...nothing happened.

"..."

Elster powered the sword again, and cautiously took another step. Then another.

Finally, she leaped across the gap to the solid space beyond.

Shhhing.

She felt the air behind her back, as the last blade missed her.

"...of course," Elster sighed. "Of course the last blade would wait until you stepped off to swing."

Walking forward, she found a nearby set of pillars on either side of the hall. She checked each, before locating a mysterious indent. Carefully reaching a hand inside, she felt around until she found a latch. "Ngh," she grunted, pulling down.

K'chunk.

The hall resounded with muffled noises, as internal mechanisms disengaged.

"ENNA!" Naal yelled, running forward with all the speed his Eldar blood had in him.

"Ngh..." Enna grunted, pushing herself to sitting position. "...Naal!" she croaked, eyes flashing with exhausted relief.

The two embraced one another, burying faces into shoulders. Tears running down their cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, my love!" Naal sobbed, clutching the back of the woman's head. He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you! I..."

"Silence, you fool," Enna breathed. She turned her head, so they faced one another.

They kissed.

"..."

Elster smiled, then turned around. She set the power sword against the wall, and walked further in.

Eldar and replika alike rushed forward, meeting the reunited lovers.

As Thiala and Rose helped Naal carry the woman, Fivin watched Elster retreat.

He frowned, picking up his blade.

 

"...have thou come to claim it? Or is it I thou seekest?"

Elster descended the stairs, lasgun aimed. "..."

Footsteps behind her. She paused, not taking her eyes off the prize...and its protector.

Fivin passed through the threshold, halting. "...Khaine's blood..." he gasped, pressing a hand to the stone doorframe.

High ceilings towered over a collection of broken and lifeless figures. Wraith-constructs of older, rarer, and more esoteric design than those utilitarian units now slowly appearing in Craftworlds throughout the galaxy in greater and greater numbers. Weapons abandoned on the cracked and scuffed marble floors.

Dominating the center of the room, illuminated by a wide crack in the ceiling, was a plinth of black obsidian.

A red cushion sat on the plinth. And upon that cushion, a black metal puzzle box.

Some distant relative to a Wraithblade planted his wraithbone sword into the ground, and forced himself to standing position. Dust fell from cracked and pitted panels of bone white. His body jittered as the bowling-pin shaped head regarded the intruders.

"...well?" the constuct said, tilting head to the side. On the smooth surface, the phantom suggestion of a strong, masculine Eldar face appeared. Ghostly lips moved in time with an ethereal, artificial voice. "What say thee, barbarian?"

Elster pointed at the plinth. "I need that box," she said, neutrally. "Don't interfere."

"Human! Don't!" Fivin said. He turned to the construct. "Honored ancestor! I beseech you. Don't bring this to blows."

"Dost thou betray your blood, youth?" the construct said. "To bring hither one of the whelpling races, to plunder our sanctum of its treasures?"

Fivin scowled. "It's...it's not like that...it's complicated..."

"...mayhaps," the construct said. "I claim not to ken thy reasons. But well met."

"How long have you been here, honored ancestor?" Fivin said. "Are you the last?"

"Verily, I am."

"Stop this, sir," Fivin said, smiling. "Our people yet live, elsewhere. You would have a place among us! Your service can be ended here!"

The construct shook his head. "Take the others, if thou wish, youth," he said. "The soul stones of my kinsmen remain intact. But nay, my duty endeth not, 'til this shell lies smote, just as they."

Fivin frowned sadly. "..."

Elster descended the stairs. She tilted her head to the side. "...what are these 'soul stones'?"

The construct stood up as straight as he could, wraithbone hand pointing to the round gem on his chest. "Know thee, mayfly warrior, that death is not the end for one of the Eldar race," he said. "My soul yet dwelleth here. E're since the day flesh and blood failed me."

"The Tears of Isha," Fivin said, somberly. He tapped the gem on his own chest. "The last anchor protecting our kind from She Who Thirsts."

Elster looked over her shoulder, then forward again. "..."

Fivin scowled. "Do NOT damage his soul stone, human!" he barked. "Or I'll kill you myself!"

"Noted," Elster said. She placed the lasgun on her back, and stooped. "So I just have to avoid destroying that stone."

"..." Fivin frowned. "...well...yes..."

The replika took hold of a discarded wraithbone sword, and stood up. She hefted it, testing the weight and balance. Both were immaculate. She held it in both hands. "...I can do that."

"Thou wouldst challenge me?" the construct said.

"Ja, honored geisterelfe," Elster said, practicing her strokes. The weapon was larger than any machete or power sword Elster yet had experience with. "I break that body of yours, I get my puzzle box, Fivin gets to bring your soul stone back to his people, and your duty ends. Everyone wins."

The phantom face on the bowling pin head smiled. "If thou'rt able. Speaketh thy name, 'human'. That I may knowest who wouldst honor me in my duty."

Elster nodded, gripping the sword. "I am LSTR-512, Replika of Eusan. Captain-Commander of the Nomarch 06, and Mother of Machines." She pointed to the obsidian plinth. "I challenge you for ownership of that box."

A nod of the oversized head. "Well met, child of Eusan." The wraith blade ceased leaning on his blade, and brought it up. "Lo, my name is Theriatis Teinithra, of Veriatha. Follower of Many Paths, Holder of the Manifold Gates, Last of the Ten Tremors, and Keeper of the Archangel of Pain. I accept your challenge."

Fivin retreated up the stairs, unhappily. "..."

The two combatants took positions across from one another, in a patch of ground (relatively) clear of wraithblade bodies. They bowed to one another.

Light from the crack in the ceiling faded, casting shadow onto the combatants. Only the faint halflight of ever-burning, ethereal torches on the wall illuminated them. Reflected off their swords.

Elster narrowed her eyes. They studied the battlefield, finding every potential bit of cover, obstacle, and extra weapon. She mentally took stock of every tool on her person.

Naturally, she had no intention of fighting fair. The moment she had an opening, she would pull out some dirty trick or another, to end the fight.

Laspistol to the face? Does he really have one? Elster thought, as the two circled one another. How difficult would it be to pop that soul stone off? Would his body just collapse? Maybe I can just get him in a bad position, then grab the box and run. If he chases, I could try reactivating the blade hall trap, and lure him into that last blade. Or I could get behind him, and stick him with a...

The shadow from above shifted. Something fell from the ceiling.

Shunk.

Elster's eyes widened.

"What?" Fivin gasped, standing at attention.

Theriatis flinched, a hand reaching to feel the back of his bowling ball head. Fingers brushed against the metal lump stuck fast by sticky resin. It beeped rapidly. "What foul devilry...?"

Elster ducked down and threw her hands over her face. Shit!

BOOM!

The krak grenade detonated, destroying the construct's head. Showered the room with shattered wraithbone. The body, smoking, sank to its knees and fell over. The sword clattered loudly to the floor.

"What?" Fivin cried, eyes widening in surprise and horror. "A-ancestor!"

"..." Elster stood up, then deflated. Stared at the ruined construct, added to the pile. "...shit..."

Granted, she was glad not to have to fight the ancient warrior. But she felt almost...cheated.

"Oi! Thanks for distracting him!"

Elster's eyes shot up. She spied, through the smoke, a scrawny figure falling from the enormous crack in the ceiling, head first. A flexible cord unwound, tied to his ankle.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Elster yelled, dropping her sword. She bolted toward the plinth, hand outstretched.

Her middle finger grazed the black puzzle box, before another hand reached down and snatched it.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, arms bringing her to a stop on the plinth. In the same motion, she looked up at the retreating figure.

The white-haired Drukhari rose, the cord around his ankle going taut and then snapping back. He grinned like a loon, and cackled like a hyena. Gold tooth glinting in the halflight.

"Hah hah hah hah hah!" he laughed, reaching up to grab the cord. He pulled himself up with one hand and his bare feet. His damaged chestplate missing, he sported thick, blood-stained bandages around his stomach. Wherever he'd acquired another source of pain, it evidently energized him sufficiently for that maneuver.

The kabalite glared at the replika. "Thanks for the gift, mon-keigh!"

"No!" Fivin shouted, pulling his shuriken pistol. "You're not getting away!"

Elster scrambled to her hooves, and pulled a laspistol.

Zap. Zap. Zap. Zip-zip-zip.

"Woo! Bye now!" the Kabalite yelled, climbing up into the crack. The withering hail of fire impacted harmlessly on the tiled ceiling, as his feet disappeared into the glare of daylight.

Elster stared at the ceiling, stepping around the plinth. Looked for a better angle to shoot.

"Oh, and before I forget," the voice echoed from the crevice. "Hey 'Elster'!"

The replika froze, gritting her teeth.

The Drukhari's voice dropped, becoming cold and hard. "Don't think this makes us square. I'll remember you, 'replika'."

"..."

Elster glared at the crack, as the shuffling and snickering retreated into nothing. Then blinked, as light filled her eyes. Threw her arm over her face to block the glare.

"Ynnead take my bones," Fivin growled, running down the stairs. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up as well. "The monster is gone."

The replika doubled over. Gritted her teeth. Clenched her hand.

"Nnnnrragh!" Elster growled, slamming a fist down on the empty plinth.

 

"Mom! How did it...mom?"

Elster stomped out the double doors, glaring at the horizon. "..."

Fivin followed behind her, before breaking off to join his group, a moth-eaten bundle filled with jingling soul stones hanging from his hand.

Kite stepped to one side, letting Elster pass. "...mom?"

Hippoyta crossed her arms. "Did you get the thing?"

"..." Elster clenched her fist, grinding her teeth. She kept walking.

Shahrazad stepped in front of Elster. She frowned. "...I'm sorry," she said. "I realized he was there too late. If I had been quicker, I..."

"Don't."

Elster shut her eyes, smoldering. She inhaled. Exhaled. "...don't...do that. I don't blame you. Or anyone."

Well, she thought, grimly, no one except myself.

She huffed, stepping around Shahrazad. She paused, then patted the Kolibri's head.

Shahrazad looked up at the replika commander.

Elster had a foul expression. Holding her rage down inside her. "...come on," she said, finally. "Let's get the fuck out of here." She walked on.

Gradually, the replikas fell in behind her. Preparing the long trek back to the shuttle.

"Hey! Hey, wait! Elster!"

The replika commander stopped, huffing. She glared over her shoulder.

Naal Hanali ran up beside her. He bent over, panting. "...I just...huff...before you...guh..."

Elster waited.

The man stood up straight, smiling. "...thank you," he said. "If not for you...I'd be halfway to Commoragh by now. And Enna..."

Inhale. Exhale. Elster shut her eyes. "...it's...it was nothing."

"No," Naal said, soberly. "You have no idea what you saved us both from. Thank you, sincerely."

Elster turned. Looked over Naal's shoulder. Eyes spied the Eldar woman in the distance, being tended by their medic.

She forcibly untangled the knot in her chest. Unclenched her jaw.

Permitted herself a small smile. "...take care of her, okay?"

Naal nodded. "I will."

"Gut. Excellent." Elster turned, motioning to her children. "Come on, girls. We're going back."

The replikas voiced assent, and continued walking.

As they retreated towards the jungle, Naal clenched a fist.

If it wasn't for you, I would be in hell, he thought. I swear, I'll become stronger. For Enna, for the Craftworld...and to return this debt to you, Replika Elster.

The replikas walked past the webway gate, beyond the vine-laden structures, and towards the treeline.

No matter how long it takes. No matter how many paths I must walk.

---

Flush.

Ariane staggered from the bathroom. Yawned.

Pale, bare feet shuffled across the cold metal floor. A long familiar sensation. But enough to keep her barely awake. She strained tired eyes at the soft glow of safety lights.

She sat down at the stool, in front of the easel. Studied the barely started rendition of her beloved. Her muse.

"..." Ariane sighed, rubbing her face. A lump in her throat. "...Ellie..."

Cheeks puffed. Brows furrowed. The gestalt stood up, swaying. Yawned.

The door to her quarters slid open at her approach. As did the next.

Ariane was halfway down the ladder before she nearly lost her grip.

"Ah!" she cried, frantically catching herself. She hung, heart racing. Eyes wide. "...shit..." she grunted, pulling forward and clinging to the ladder. Panted.

...well, she thought, looking down at the floor below, I'm already this far.

Suddenly more awake, Ariane descended, foot touching down on the lower landing. A shiver ran up her leg, cold metal eliciting goosebumps. She hugged herself, turning away from the ladder.

The door to Maintenance slid open.

The gestalt crossed the floor. Traced the edge of the calibration pod with her fingers. Stood beside it.

"..." Ariane blinked, squinting in the dark. The pod was pitched back, as if occupied. Yet she couldn't see Elster. "...Ellie...?"

She yawned. Rubbed her eyes. Shook her head. Friggin' darkness, she thought. Can't see shit.

Adrenaline faded, the oppressive weight of slumber pressed down on her again. She looked around, and grabbed a brown wool blanket from atop a stack of containers.

Smiling softly, Ariane walked to the front of the calibration pod. She draped the blanket across her back, and sat down. Tucked feet in, to rest on the blanket, then lay down on her side.

Wrapped the blanket around her, curled in a ball. Rested her head on her arm, facing the pod. Her back to a storage container, that sat a foot away from the wall.

When she wakes up, the gestalt thought, yawning, heavy eyes closing, I'll be here to greet her.

Ariane smiled, and drifted off to sleep before the empty pod.

Notes:

Thank you all for sticking with me these last 50 chapters. Here's to however many more until I finally finish this self-indulgent story!

Chapter 51: The Weather Outside Is Frightful

"You're sure you're okay to be working, Maggie?"

LSTR-1109 tightened the bolt, huffing. Margaret raised her voice, to be heard through the layers of pipes and concrete. "I'm feeling fine," she lied, wincing at the ache in her chest.

The Ara frowned. "You really shouldn't be working until the tissues finish bonding," Begonia said. "You're not even done fully healing from the first surgery. And we don't know if your body will accept the second lung."

Margaret sighed, shutting her eyes. "Please, Beeg," she said. "I just...I can't keep sitting in bed all day. I need to work."

Begonia sighed. "You sound like Diodana," she said, rubbing her temple.

"Your tech priest teacher?" Margaret said. She reached up and reattached a wire, sealing it with black electrical tape.

"Yes."

The LSTR nodded, then carefully rolled over onto her belly. She crawled backwards, dragging tools with her. Flipped off the flashlight headband, emerging from the hatch into the corridor. "...well, I think I'm done here anyway," she said. As she climbed to her hooves, she winced, hand clutching her chest.

Begonia clapped a hand on Margaret's shoulder. "See? You're not okay!" she said, squinting angrily. "Have you not been taking your painkillers?"

Margaret shook her head, waving the Ara off. She tucked tools into her belt. "I don't want to waste them on me," she said. "Someone else might...ngh!?"

The Ara cupped her hands around the LSTR unit's cheeks. Pulled the woman in.

"...I won't have you saying such things," Begonia said, squinting into Margaret's eyes. "We can get more painkillers. Your suffering matters."

"..." Margaret frowned, averting her gaze. "...I'm just...trying not to be a burden..."

"Well you aren't," Begonia said, nodding. "There'll be time for you to make up for our kindness later. Just...focus on healing. That way, you'll be better at helping. Does that make sense?"

"..." Margaret shrugged. "...I...suppose..."

The Ara forced a smile, and removed her hands. "Good," she said, nodding. "Now, go take your pills."

"I still need things to do," Margaret said, rubbing her cheek. "I'm going stir crazy."

Begonia tapped her head thoughtfully. "Hmm...how about you head on up and go for a walk? I think Erica said we needed some supplies topside. You could run some errands for her."

"Will I need to get them from a shop?" Margaret said, tilting her head sideways. "Is that safe to do?"

"A lot of people who still live on the lower levels of the city don't talk to Protektors anymore," Begonia said. "Doubly so since the governor ended the Replika bounty. Obviously, don't go advertising your true nature. But so long as you keep yourself covered and pay in rationmarks, most shopkeepers ask few questions. If nothing else, we have contacts among the gestalts, who might be willing to make purchases for you."

"I'll need to talk to Erica, then," Margaret said, crossing her arms. "Or maybe Beatrice. They'll know who to talk to." She looked at the floor, pensive. "...what am I going to wear?"

"I think Elster left an outfit in the coat room," Begonia said. "Including shoes with hoof adapters in them. That ensemble worked pretty well to help her pass as gestalt."

Margaret's eyes lit up. "Wait, are we talking about that number with the fedora and the trench coat?"

 

"Have a nice day!"

Ding-a-ling.

The LSTR unit turned her collar up, and tucked the brown paper back under her arm. Artificial eyes peeked between the top of her collar, and the brim of her hat. Looked around for pedestrians. Gulping, she shuffled down the avenue. Accommodating the brown shoes attached to the ends of her hooves made walking slow.

Before the invasion, Rotfront's streets were cold and dreary. Gray concrete buildings under a gray sky. The air thick with smog and, often, snowflakes.

Now, the streets of Rotfront's lowest (public) level was cool and dark. Snow never fell anymore.

Margaret checked the coast was clear, then craned her neck back. Gloved hand tipped the fedora, to permit her a clear look.

Colossal pillars of rockcrete jutted up from behind the roofs of the already tall buildings. Soaring up, until they transitioned into mighty arches the size of city blocks. The vaulted ceilings shouldered the burden of what was the first of Rotfront's great plates. Darkness pooled in the space between arches, as if the void kept going up forever.

Rotfront's district C, once a snow-swept monument to brutalist efficiency, now stood as the interior of a colossal cathedral devoted to, and made of, shadows.

The LSTR unit lowered her gaze back to the street lit by lamps installed in their dozens per block.

At least the snowflakes were beautiful, she thought grimly, walking on.

 

"Hey! It's you!"

Margaret blinked out of her reverie. Exhaled. Acted casual. Looked out each corner of her eyes.

Surely, the gestalt was talking to someone else.

"Hey! Elster!"

The replika flinched. She looked sideways, heart racing.

Trundling across the platform, the old gestalt woman waved. Brushed a lock of gray hair from her face. "I didn't think I'd see you again so soon," she said, smiling. "...or at all, really."

Margaret pinched the front ends of her collar together and tipped her face down. Looked toward the tracks. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, "I think you have me confused with someone else."

The woman frowned. "...no, I recognize that coat and hat anywhere, Li-" She shut her mouth, then looked away. "Sorry. Elster. I forgo-"

"Don't."

The replika side-eyed the gestalt. "Don't. Call me. That." She glared. "Not here. It's not..."

The woman held her hands up. "Sorry, sorry!" she said, smiling nervously. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I really must be getting old. I forgot it's not like...the old days." She looked around, eyeing other gestalts returning to their wait for the train. "Used to be, seeing...one of you wasn't a big deal."

"Why are you talking to me?" Margaret said, looking nervously left to right.

"..." The woman looked taken aback. "...Elster," she whispered, "don't you remember me?"

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

"No," said the replika.

Ding, ding, ding.

The train hove into the station.

"I don't know you."

Anja Itou's eyes widened, as the train barreled past.

Air rushed across them, kicking up loose trash. Light from the train windows flickered across their faces. The sounds of trundling wheels and squealing metal dominated the station.

Grinding to a halt, the train settled.

Hsss.

"Good day to you, ma'am," Margaret said, without looking. She stepped onto the train, leaving the gestalt behind.

"..."

The LSTR unit settled into a seat, to give other passengers a wide berth. Sat her brown paper bag down in the seat beside her.

"Wait!"

The doors barely started to close, when the gestalt rushed inside.

"Eh?" Margaret said, peeking up from under her hat. She pulled it low over her. "G-go away!" she whispered, side-eyeing the rest of the car. Luckily, other passengers had elected to board other cars. "Didn't I tell you...?"

Anja sat down across from Margaret. "Why do you pretend you don't know me, Elster?" she said, frowning. "If it's to avoid attracting attention in public, I get it. But you don't need to act so..."

"I DON'T know you!" Margaret grunted under her breath. She looked up, staring the gestalt in the face. "And I..."

She blinked. Eyes widened.

Margaret truly hadn't met the woman before. So why did the gestalt look so...familiar?

"..." Anja leaned back, staring. She deflated. "...you're...not the same LSTR unit, are you?"

The replika blinked again, then shook her head. "No, I'm not," she muttered. "Not all LSTRs know each other."

"But not all LSTRs wear the exact same outfit when they're trying to blend in," Anja said, pointing a finger. "Looking up close, even the cracks in the leather of your coat look the same as when...I met her."

Margaret rubbed the brown leather collar between her fingers, then looked away. "...why is it important to meet that LSTR again?" she muttered.

Anja looked down at her hands. "...because she remembered me," she said. "From...before..."

The replika frowned. It took her a moment, then her eyes widened. "...oh..."

"...do you...remember me?" Anja said, looking up expectantly.

"..." Margaret glanced forward, then looked away again. "...your face looks...familiar...I can't place it..."

"...I see..." Anja leaned back in the seat, and looked away.

The replika leaned back as well, and rested her head against the glass. Looked sidelong out the window.

"..."

Trundling along, the train kept parallel to another track added to the line. By the overhead lights, she saw the parallel track curve away, before terminating before a rockcrete ramp that extended upward. They kept riding, watching the ramp arch steadily toward the plate above. Halfway, the ramp itself terminated, its end hanging in the air, reaching for support beams that would bear its next several hundred meters.

Anja watched it too, over Margaret's shoulder. "...were you around before the invasion?"

"...I was..." Margaret said. Eyes rising to watch another, taller support pillar, jutting naked to the air. Alone, disconnected. "Not in this district, until recently." She pointed to the aborted ramp project. "That's all new, I take it."

"The new government intended on connecting the rail network up to the plate," Anja said, nodding. "So workers below could commute to factories above, and vice versa with Protektors and the like." She shook her head. "I still can't get over how fast the Imperium works. It seems like only yesterday...you and I..." She shut her mouth. "...she and I rode this line. We were young then."

"..." Margaret glanced at Anja, then looked away. "...looks like construction stalled."

She watched as another section of ramp, this time hanging down from the high ceiling, came into view.

"...yes," Anja said, nodding. "I heard that the civil war out in space forced the planetary governor to halt all non-essential projects."

"Makes sense," Margaret said, turning her body to watch the ramp fade behind them. "They're diverting resources to the war effort, I'm sure." Then, the ramp disappeared behind the wall of a tunnel, that plunged the train into shadow.

"...same old, same old," Anja sighed.

They sat in silence, beneath the soft overhead lights. The windows showed black, with only occasional lights rolling past.

"...what did my cousin do for you?" Margaret said, resting her eyes.

"Your...?" Anja said, cocking an eyebrow. She nodded. "Oh, I see. Well..." She smiled. "Elster...the Elster I knew...secured my retirement."

"Did she now?" Margaret said, opening one eye. She smiled. "...she really is a generous sort, that one."

"What did she do for you?" Anja said.

"Saved my life," Margaret said, leaning her head back and smiling. She tapped her chest. "My insides weren't doing so hot, when our 'mutual acquaintance' found me. Got me in touch with..." The smile faded. "..."

"...it's alright if you can't tell me," Anja said. "I'm glad she could help you."

"...likewise."

They trundled on in silence for several minutes.

Ding.

"Achtung," chimed the speaker in the ceiling. "Approaching Stop C-17. Achtung. Approaching Stop C-17. That is all."

The gestalt sat up. "This is my stop," she said, placing her purse strap over her shoulder. "It was nice talking to you."

"..." Margaret nodded, sitting up. "...what was your name?"

"Anja," said the gestalt. "Anja Itou. Do you have a name?"

The replika nodded. "Call me Margaret."

"A pretty name," the gestalt said, nodding.

Anja looked the replika in the eyes.

The replika frowned. "...what?"

"...would you..." Anja coughed, "...if it's not too much of a bother..."

"What?" Margaret said, tilting her head to the side. "What is it?"

Anja smiled. "...would you like to come to my place for dinner? It's just me living there now. And I don't have many visitors these days."

Margaret leaned back. Rubbed her temple. Looked down at the bag in the seat beside her.

Nothing perishable.

The replika smiled. "...sure..."

 

"Food Storage 87B is intact."

"Acknowledged. Stand by."

Helmet-mounted flashlights cast beams over the darkened storeroom. Large containers cast broad shadows against the metal walls. As did floating debris, suspended in place by null gravity.

Replikas in void suits checked corners, booted hoofsteps silent in the vacuum. The team fanned out, lasguns ready, probing the periphery. Circe already vouched for the lance-blasted derelict's safety. That nothing survived the battle still playing out in farther sections of the system. But there was no utility in being careless.

Row by row. Corner by corner. Slowly, carefully, the team stalked the room.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear on my end."

The team regrouped back at the entrance. Hoofsteps magnetized to the metal floor.

Double Tap nodded. "Storage cleared," she said over the radio, looking out over the sea of containers. "Any word from the administrator?"

Maria's voice crackled over the radio. "He says we've got a bit more room in storage, if we need to load up," she said. "He also says we could pack every available corner, if we needed to."

Elster's voice appeared over the radio. "We'll be swinging by that agri-world next jump," she said. "We could do with some more trade goods. And they could probably use something less perishable."

"Acknowledged," Double Tap said. "We'll start towing goods to the shuttle."

"We could use the arc cutter to bust a hole in the damaged hull," said Myrtle, pointing to a wall, "if we need a faster access point."

"Would that be faster than simply moving the containers to the nearest existing hole?" Double Tap asked.

"There's a fair amount of containers here," Myrtle said, shrugging as well as she could in the void suit. "Over a large enough volume, the extra time saved from navigating them around all those corridors would be worth the time spent making a new hole."

"Especially since there's no gravity," said Chicory, kicking a forklift that floated awkwardly in the corner. "We can't rely on this ship's equipment."

"Do it," Elster said, over comms. "Is Jenny available?"

The radio crackled again. "I'm already on standby," Jenny said. "Sally, can you bring the shuttle back? I'll have my tools ready by then."

"Acknowledged. On my way," Sally said. "Salvage team, are you going to be alright on that ship?"

"We'll be fine," Double Tap said. "We'll take inventory, and start looking for a good spot to cut through. Plus, we need to wait for mom to do her thing..."

 

"We're almost done here."

Elster looked out the blown-out windows, watching starlight twinkle off a cloud of shattered glasteel. Slowly, she stalked on magnetized boots between bridge crew consoles. Gently nudged floating cadavers aside, or stepped around blessedly dead servitors shackled to their stations by metal and wire.

A floating object caught her eye. She reached up, plucking the laspistol power pack from the airless void. Yoink, she thought, magnetizing it to her belt.

She turned her head. "How are we doing?" she radioed.

Gloved fingers tapped soundlessly on a keyboard.

"A few more minutes," Daisy said, blue light reflecting off her glasteel visor. Text scrolled rapidly across the screen in front of her. At her side, a portable battery supplied electricity by wire to the console, while her dutiful servo skull fed data between it and a portable hard drive.

Elster nodded, turning back to the infinite sea of stars. "Good," she said. "Once we're done here, I need to get back."

"Other plans on the schedule?" Daisy asked, not pausing her work.

"Mmhmm," Elster said.

Her eyes watched the distant exchange of lance fire. The dance of loyalist and traitor void combat.

She smiled.

"Circe is activating the new unit today."

 

"Shh, shh, shh! It's okay!"

The diminutive newborn clutched her head. "Ngh!" she grunted, gritting her teeth. "...too...loud!"

Circe hugged the Kolibri and pressed their foreheads together. "Shh...shh..." she cooed, eyes shut. "I've got you...put a wall up...let me show you how..."

Isis and Shahrazad stood on either side of the calibration pod, nervously watching their junior struggle. Isis chewed her thumb. Shahrazad rubbed her hands together.

"...hah...hah...ngh..." the newborn moaned, tears rolling down her face. Head pressed against the back of the pod. "...please...make it stop...I don't..." she whimpered. Eyes clasped shut.

"Shh, shh," Circe said, running fingers through the girl's auburn hair. "Don't talk. Just breathe. In. Out."

The newborn shuddered, taking ragged breaths. "...huff...ngh..."

"Breathe," Circe said, stroking the girl's cheek. She thumbed away a tear. "Breathe. That's it. Mommy's here. Now, focus on keeping that wall up. Block it all out. You can do it."

"...I c-can't...it's so loud..." the newborn whined, shaking her head. She clutched her mother's arms.

"You can," Circe said, kissing the girl's forehead between the trio of red stars. "You're stronger than you think."

"...hah...hah..."

Circe looked over her shoulder. "Hip," she said, "we need to get her to the focus chamber."

Hippolyta, arms crossed, nodded. She stalked over and stooped. "Come here, girl. Don't struggle."

"She's going to carry you somewhere less loud," Circe whispered, moving to one side. She laced her fingers into the newborn's own. "It'll be okay. I'm going to be with you the entire time. Just breathe."

The newborn, unseeing, nodded. She flinched at the arms that tucked behind her back and legs. "Ngh!" she whimpered.

"Go limp," Hippolyta said, softly, "I've got you. I won't let you fall."

Shuddering, the newborn allowed herself to be plucked from the pod and lifted high into the air. If her eyes weren't clasped shut in pain, she would have been more afraid. She threw one arm instinctively around Hippolyta's neck. The other dangled down, clutching Circe's hand.

"Let's go, everyone," Circe said, remaining in physical and mental contact with her baby daughter.

Hippolyta nodded, then slowly made for the door.

Elster leaned against a counter off to the side. "Is she going to be okay?" she asked, arms crossed. She frowned, watching the pained replika shiver and wince.

Circe nodded. "She's just overwhelmed," she said. She looked to the Storch. "We need to hurry."

"Right," Hippolyta said, stooping to move through the door.

As they left the replika workshop, the newborn cringed. "...they're...howling..." she whined, recoiling blindly in pain and fear. "...the voices...they're howling in pain...they...want to take me...!" She shivered.

Circe frowned, casting her attention into the Warp. She squeezed the newborn's hand.

"...it's just the wind, baby," she lied. "Just the wind."

 

"...anyway, it probably doesn't feel like it. But...Alles Gute zum Geburtstag."

The newborn cracked open an eye, holding an arm up to block the ceiling lights of the spherical, padded room. "...b-b...birthday?" she mumbled. She shut her eye and covered her face, groaning. "...I don't..."

"Sorry, it's just...a tradition in our family," Circe said, looking down at her new daughter's head resting in her lap. She smiled softly. "How are you feeling?"

"...ngh...it's not as loud...my head hurts..."

Circe nodded, running fingers through the newborn's hair. "I'm sorry about that," she said, the smile fading. "There's...not really a good time these days to bring you into the world. It's just...like this, for the time being. You'll get used to it, I promise."

The newborn turned over as best she could, resting on her side. She buried her face in her mother's lap. Her head throbbed. "...who are...you...?" she whispered, cracking an eye open and looking up.

Circe smiled again. "My name is Circe," she said softly. "I helped build you. And I installed your neural pattern. That makes me your mom."

"...my...pattern...?" The newborn looked down. Her lips pursed, as her beleaguered brain mulled the information over in her head. "...that seems...familiar...I don't..." She shook her head, and covered her face again.

"Don't worry about all that. It can come later, when the pain subsides." Circe beckoned to Shahrazad, who brought over a blanket and pillow. "You're cold," Circe said, not a question. "Would you like a blanket? Maybe a pillow?"

The newborn nodded.

With only a little mental direction, she was coaxed into raising her head, so Circe could slip a pillow under it. The blanket draped over her. She clutched it, and pulled it over her head. "...thank you...mom..." The words were strange. Yet, resonant. Comforting. Correct. But, at the same time, bittersweet. Tinged with pain. A lump formed in her throat.

Circe sat again on the floor of cushions, and took her daughter's hand.

The girl squeezed it, sighing.

Hsss.

Isis came in, bearing a bottle of water and a ration box in her arms. "Here," she said, squatting down and handing the bottle over.

"Thank you, Isis," Circe nodded, then turned to the newborn. "Do you want water now? Or later?"

The newborn raised her head, peeking out from beneath her blanket. She tentatively reached out and took the bottle. She paused, frowning at her black hands, with a single red index finger. "...I'm...a replika, aren't I?" she mumbled.

"That's right," Circe nodded, smiling proudly. "I see you remember that. Good job."

The girl uncapped the bottle and took a sip. Trying hard not to choke. She rested her head again, holding the open bottle upright.

Isis fished a pill bottle from her pocket. "I also brought some headache meds," she said. "If you..."

"Yes please," the newborn croaked immediately. She held out a hand, palm up.

Isis placed two pills on her new sibling's palm. "Here you go, sis."

"...sister..." A word with unfamiliar personal connotations. The newborn blinked, then popped the pills into her mouth. She swigged water, swallowed. She coughed, rubbing her chest. "...thank you..."

"No problem," Isis said, smiling. She leaned over, stroking the newborn's head under the blanket.

Shahrazad crawled over and lay down behind the girl. "Consent to hug you, sister?"

"..." The newborn stared, then gave a mental impulse of assent. She flinched as Shahrazad hugged her around her waist from behind, but said nothing. She breathed in. Out.

Circe smiled, stroking the girl's hand. "...I know you want to sleep," she said. "But can you do one last thing for me? Only if it's not too much trouble."

"...what?" the newborn said, staring into space.

"Do you know your unit designation?"

The replika shut her eyes. Her head still throbbed.

Thankfully, the answer came readily, not straining her mind. "...KLBR-N0604..."

"Very good," Circe said, nodding. She smiled. "I'm proud of you, baby. You're a real trooper."

"...I don't want to be a trooper," 04 croaked. "I just...want it to stop hurting..."

"It will," Circe said. "Just bear with it for now. It's all we can do."

Hsss.

"How's she doing?" Hippolyta said, stooping under the doorway. She crossed the room, a navy blue jumpsuit draped over her arm. A bundle of underwear in her other hand.

"Better," Circe said, looking up. "She needs to sleep."

Hippolyta nodded, setting the clothing down. She walked around the huddle of Kolibris and knelt down. She patted her lap. "Want to rest your head?" she said, looking at Circe.

"Yes," Circe said. She crawled, laying down on her side. Rested her head on the Storch's lap, so she could face her newest daughter. Clasped the girl's hand.

04 watched as Hippolyta stroked her mother's hair. She peeked up from beneath her blanket. "...who are you?" she mumbled, blinking tiredly.

"Name's Hippolyta," the Storch said, reaching down to pet the Kolibri's head. "I'm your mom's girlfriend." She smiled. "So...I guess that makes me your mom, too."

"...hmm..." 04 breathed, regarding the Storch with exhausted curiosity. She looked down. "...can I go to sleep now?"

"Yes." Circe looked to Isis. "Get the lights?"

Isis nodded, and walked over to the doorway. With a flip of the switch, the room was plunged into darkness. Broken only by dim safety lights running along the room's perimeter, that cast the space in a soft twilight.

"Mmm..." 04 moaned in relief, shutting her eyes. She squeezed Circe's hand, then settled into the cushions.

"Sweet dreams, baby," Circe said, smiling. She squeezed back.

The newest Kolibri nodded, yawning.

For the first time, she became fully cognizant of her mother and sisters around her on the mental plane. Hugging her. Blocking out the roar of the storm. Between them and the insulating metal walls around them, she finally felt it almost blissfully quiet.

Even the roar of the tempest outside seemed little more than the patter of rain and the moan of wind. She felt a vivid memory bubble up, of listening to a downpour outside her bedroom window.

But that was long ago, and far away. And so many years ago.

The Kolibri yawned, smiling. She permitted the breathing and the soft rain rock her gently to sleep.

Chapter 52: Those Left Behind

"I can't thank you ladies enough for this."

Chickens clucked inside cages wrought of sticks and carved wood pegs. Replikas carried them to a cart, already laden with a dozen cages stacked on top of one another.

Meryl nodded, squatting low to the dirt path. "It's no problem, ma'am," she said, shaking the diminutive woman's hand. "I'm glad you don't mind the...ahem...'found' goods."

The ratling elder gave a toothy smile. Her wrinkled face was framed by a bandanna embroidered with floral patterns, and dyed successively darker shades to mask deep stains.

"Heh heh heh, don't worry about that, dear," she said, leaning on her short cane. "We're no strangers to taking 'what falls off an Imperial truck', as they say. You do what you must."

Waddling across the dirt road on gnarled, unshod feet, the elder stood by the side. Watched her younger kin (sometimes painfully young) push wood wheelbarrows or carry small boxes from the pile left aside for them. "Yes, this lot will help us get through the winter, I think," she said, a wrinkled smile on her face.

Meryl stood up, studying their cart as it piled high with birds. "You're sure you don't need all these chickens?" she said, pressing fingers to her lips.

"Any other year, we would, but..." The tiny elder shook her head. "Tut tut...you can see the fields better than we can, from up there."

The Eule frowned, looking out beyond the fenceline.

Sprawling out in all directions, plots of land were scorched black, highlighted by gray ash. Only small segments of ground remained unburned. Painstakingly saved by bucket brigades and shovels. Meager crops harvested and taken away to half-fill grain silos.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Meryl said.

The ratling woman shook her head. "Don't be sorry, miss," she said, sighing. "War makes monsters of us all. Or of them all..." She leaning back, to pointing angrily at the sky with her cane, before planting it back. "...they're the ones what decided if they couldn't have these crops, no one could."

"Do you know who did it?" Meryl asked, looking down. "Which side?"

"Doesn't matter. They're both the same. Maniacs, murderers, blood-crazed fiends." The elder shook her head. "I remember when I was a young lass, no older than you..." She looked up, squinting. "...I think. Maybe." She looked forward, shaking her head. "When all you had to worry about was the lord, riding around every year in that big tin can of his. 'Reminding you who rules', and all that. He taxed us enough, a' course, to keep that old machine in repair. But otherwise, the big folk left us to our own devices."

She sighed. "Then the 'mperium came," she said. "Harumph...the old lord and his sons got new robots, and flew off into space to win glory, and all that rot. And we...well, we all got the ministrations of the 'mperium. Big folks coming in, takin' our names. Takin' our blood. Haulin' off folks what they deemed 'too deviant' from the biggin' stock." She scowled. "I know my cousins were ugly as sin. But they weren't hurtin' nobody. Didn't deserve that, they didn't..."

"I'm sorry," Meryl said, covering her mouth.

"Don't be," the elder said. "'tis in the past. We got enough to worry about, 'ere and now."

"The Imperium came to our system shortly before I was born," Meryl said. "Our kind..." She gestured to her mechanical body. "...they were mostly wiped out. Insisted we were 'Abominable'. Only mom and Diodana were around during that time. Now the survivors need to hide, until the Imperium forgets we ever were."

The old woman nodded sadly. "I should be apologizing to you, then," she said, glancing up. "Well, you lot are always welcome here, if you need it."

"That's very kind of you," Meryl said, nodding her head.

"Oh, it's just paying your kindness back." The woman smiled. "We both know you could have given so much less for these chickens. We're desperate enough."

"You really can't keep them?"

"No feed for them this year," the elder said, gesturing at the fields. "Not enough to feed us. Some whole families got wiped out, when they started shooting down at us from space. Those chickens were either going to be stew now, or get loosed to the forest. At least now, the food you gave will see us through the winter."

"Our admin says we needed to make room anyway," Meryl said. "We're going to be stopping at a few more settlements, before we leave. Just to clear the hallways."

"Hah!" the old woman cackled. "That's a good problem to have, to be sure."

"I hope it doesn't taste too bad," Meryl said. "I'm the ship's head cook. Working from fresh materials is always better than these military rations."

"True, true. I tried one of those sealed space meals, once." She spat. "Bleh! Home cooked is always better. No, the family won't like it, that's for sure."

"I can give you some tips, for making them more appetizing, if you have the time."

The woman looked up, smiling. She pointed. "I like you."

 

"Shield integrity 40 percent!"

Elster gripped the console, watching the viewscreens ringing the room. She flipped a switch and snatched up the microphone. "All aboard, you better be inside a sealed, interior room! Get out of the halls!"

She snapped the microphone off.

Verdammte Piraten! she thought, scowling.

Red flashed across the screens. Concentrated energy washed over their void shields, and arched away from the Nomarch's lascannon batteries.

To the right, an oncoming attack craft exploded under a withering hail, debris bouncing off the shield in a fiery shower.

"Direct hit!" cried Dash, pumping her fist. She grinned at her screen.

"Shield intengrity 32 percent..." Diodana said, punching buttons. Another few flashes from the lascannon arrays. "...30 percent..."

Elster bit her thumb. "...ficken..." she grumbled. A part of her would hate to lose the ship (and most of her family) to, of all things, opportunistic pirates. At least being blown to smithereens by a Loyalist or Horusite craft carried with it a base kind of dignity.

Not that dignity meant anything to Elster. Dignity didn't bring her children back.

Maria pressed her hand to her headphone speaker. "...Elster," she yelled over her shoulder. "They're reiterating terms of surrender!"

"Reiterate that they can go to hell!" Elster growled, gritting her teeth. "Tulip! Are we almost to that cluster of asteroids?"

"Twenty more minutes at least!" Tulip said, gripping her control stick. She shifted the heading slightly, moving them on a collision course with a smaller pirate craft. "Hold on!"

Thump.

The bridge felt the vibrations through the hull, as enemy craft's wing was scraped off. The opposing pilot having evidently not expected the sudden shift, and turned only enough to avoid a full collision.

They watched it tumble wildly off and over them, broken wing shooting sparks.

"ARAR-N0602, do not damage the Nomarch!" Diodana barked. She tapped buttons. "Integrity at 21...19 percent!" She looked over her shoulder. "Any more of this, and the shields will drop!"

"I know!" Elster said, glancing around at each screen. "Gunners! We're not going to chip their shields down! Focus on attack craft only!"

"Got it!" said an Ara manning a weapons station. "I'm out of physical munitions anyway!"

"Me too!" said another Ara.

"Integrity at 15 percent and dropping!" Diodana cried.

Elster huffed, gritting her teeth. She gulped.

A red flash on the port side screens.

"10 percent!"

Is this...it? Elster thought, a pit forming in her stomach. Did we come this far, just to go out like this?

"8...5 percent!"

Will I lose them all...because of some fucking pirates?

A red flash against the starboard side.

The void shields wavered.

"Void shield integrity unstable!" Diodana cried.

Boom! Rumble.

"Ah!"

The entire ship vibrated. Lurched.

Replikas cried out, jostled in their seats.

Elster steadied herself on the console. "Scheisse!" she cried. "D-damage report!"

"Level 3, section 4 damaged!" Diodana said, flipping switches. "Confirmed loss of atmosphere. Systems automatically isolating." She clenched a fist. "By the Omnissiah! One of the void shield generators is damaged!"

"Can it be repaired?" Elster said, wincing as the red emergency lights around them flickered.

"Not right now!" the gestalt cried. She flipped switches. "Compensating!"

Boom! Rumble.

"Ngh!" Dash grunted, shaking in her seat.

"I've lost my lascannon!" one of the Aras called, tapping her weapon console frantically.

"Commander!" Diodana said, looking over her shoulder. "We cannot sustain this level of damage forever! Critical systems are at risk!"

Maria looked over her shoulder as well. "They're calling for our surrender again!"

Elster chewed her lip.

Verdammt noch mal! she thought. She reached down and flipped switches on her console. "Fine, fine!" she grumbled. "Gunners, stop firing!"

Picked up her microphone and thumbed it on. "Attention enemy craft! Cease firing! We surrender!"

Boom! Rumble.

"I said call it off!" Elster yelled, sweat pouring down her face.

The speakers roared to life. "Well now, and here I thought we were free to go to hell," slurred the masculine voice on the other end. "Or are you finally willin' to talk sens'ble like?"

Elster gritted her teeth. "...enough," she said, calming her voice. "We have cargo and weapons. Food. We'll hand it over. Just please, stop firing!"

"Tsk. Food and weapons ain't good enough anymore, little lady," the man said. "I've lost sev'ral good men to your guns. Experienced flyers, what fought in tha Crusade. We aren't square."

"What do you want, then?" Elster balked, bent over. She was going pale. "We don't have anything else to give, gottverdammt!"

"Payback!" the man barked. "Maybe slaves, too. We'll see how many of you are still breathin' after my boys finish carving that scrap heap up like a turkey."

Members of the bridge crew started crying out in panic.

Boom! Rumble.

Someone screamed.

"Level 1, section 5, damaged," Diodana said. "...confirmed exposed to vacuum."

"No!" Elster yelled into the mic. "Stop it!"

She stared at the forward view screen, at the cluster of asteroids.

We were so close, Elster thought, a lump in her throat. Her lower lip quivered. So...close...!

The man on the radio chuckled. "See you on the other sid-"

Far forward, Elster caught sight of a dark body amid the asteroids. The silhouette lit up red as a lance shot out.

It slammed into one of the pirate craft, billowing against its void shields.

"Ah!" cried the pirate over comms. "What the damn hell is-?"

Another lance shot. Then another. Then a huge volley.

Elster shrank into herself on instinct. "What? Who is...?" she breathed.

"Several more ships, dead ahead!" Tulip yelled, pointing at the radar screen.

The replika commander snapped back to attention. "Dio!" she cried. "Can we squeeze any more juice into the shields!?"

"I will try," Diodana said, pressing buttons furiously.

Dash stared at her screen. "I...don't think we're being targeted..." she said.

"Who the fuck are these guys?" screamed the man on the radio, his comms crew apparently forgetting to close the channel. "...no...no, no, no! Not these-"

Under the ceaseless hail of lance beams, the void shield of one of the pirate vessels crumbled to nothing. Naked to the onslaught, fires erupted across the ship's surface, as it was dismantled. Piece by piece.

"...ffffuuuuuu-!" the man on the radio cried, before the line cut to static.

Elster watched as the enemy craft erupted into explosions, breaking up into chunks. It smeared the starscape with debris and fire.

The replika commander blinked. "...what?" she breathed. She looked around, seeing their assailants begin to turn. "They're..."

Far ahead of them, dark shadows emerged from asteroid cover. Not one, not two, but five ships. A Cruiser and her escorts. The sailed imperiously from the field of space rocks, barking concentrated energy.

Dash stood up, watching the oncoming ships. "...please tell me they're friendly..."

Maria snapped to attention, pressing fingers to her headphones. She pressed buttons. "...yes, yes!" she said into her microphone. "Let me put her on!" She flipped a switch, and looked over her shoulder. "Elster! They're hailing us!"

Elster, gulping, leaning over and changed channels. "H-hello? This is the Nomarch 06."

As the lead vessel hove into view, she saw it bore a black, white, and red livery. It pivoted to the side, to once again begin broadside shots from its lance batteries. The shots flew high over the Nomarch, slamming into the fleeing pirates.

On its flank, the symbol of a winged sword, and the numeral 'I' stood prominently.

"Well met, Nomarch," came another man's voice over the speakers. Calm, refined. Professional. "This is the Galahad's Grace. Strike Cruiser of the First Legion Dark Angels."

 

Hssss.

"Oh, thank the empress!" Samantha cried, running forward.

Dash embraced the Eule, hugging her close. "Don't worry," she breathed, kissing the top of her girlfriend's head. "I'm here."

"We've been stuck here for four hours!" Samantha cried, burying her face into the Star's chest. "I thought you'd never get us out!"

"I told you it might take a while to seal those holes," said Myrtle, walking forward with a group of other Eules and Aras. "We all felt those impacts. They had to be nasty."

"They were," Dash said, rubbing her lover's back. "I'm so sorry. We repaired them as fast as we could."

"Did anyone get hurt?" Samantha breathed, looking up.

Dash shook her head. "Everyone is present and accounted for," she said. "Some Aras were trapped in the vents on level 1, but Jenny and Helga got them out."

"What happened?" asked a Eule. "Did we drive the attackers off?"

"We didn't," Dash said, stroking Samantha's head. "We had a little help."

 

"Once again, I offer my sincerest apologies."

Elster sipped black tea from the ornate porcelain cup. "Mmm...apology accepted, Captain," she said, smiling.

The Astartes captain took a seat opposite the replika. His armor was black, accented with black and red checkerboard patterns. The lone exception was his left arm, which sported a bone-white color. His light brown hair was neatly braided, and his beard well-kempt.

"The piratical elements that attacked you have bedeviled this system for years, you see," the marine said, an apologetic expression on his face. "Since the persistent warp storms stranded us here, in fact. Attempts to hunt them down were, thus far, unsuccessful. We could not lose this opportunity to ambush them." He frowned. "It was...an honorless thing, to use your ship as bait. Apologies."

"No, I understand completely," Elster said, nodding. "I'm just glad you pounced when you did, before we suffered real damage." She lowered her voice. "...though my head tech priest wishes you'd been more prompt in your assistance. It would have her potentially months of repair work. We don't have a dry dock out here."

"A deeply regrettable thing, and my apologies to her," he said, nodding. "We will, of course, provide all the resources and personnel at our disposal, to effect your repairs."

"It's mostly getting the hulls fully sealed and the void shield generator back online," Elster said. "With a few days, we should be rendered capable of Warp travel again."

The marine was silent a moment. "...so...your ship is capable of navigating the storms?" he said.

"...we are," Elster said, after a moment's hesitation. She raised the teacup, to mask her uncomfortable frown. "With some difficulty. But our navigators have managed passage so far."

"Then I'm afraid I will need to impose upon you once again," the marine said, closing his eyes. "May I request you extend this navigational knowledge to us as well? We badly need to return home."

Elster narrowed her eyes. She took a sip, mostly to draw the moment out.

"..."

"...forgive me," he said. "Ever since we were separated from our fleet, my complement of ships has been marooned in this system. Even with raiding the supplies of local monitoring stations, we simply can't keep on like this. If we can shift back to our destination, we can make much-needed resupply and repairs. You will, of course, we compensated for your time and expense. We can afford you as much time as needed at dry dock." He met her eyes, somberly. "Will you help us?"

Elster's expression remained impassive. Truthfully, she couldn't fully trust the good will on display here. The Dark Angels may insist on being granted passage, if she wasn't forthcoming.

Moreover, access to an orbital dock would expedite repairs considerably. A luxury the Nomarch almost never enjoyed, since making it void-capable. Its unknown make and hidden allegiance raised too many questions, during the Great Crusade and especially during the civil war.

Reluctantly, the replika commander nodded. "...I think that's doable, yes. Where were you needing to go?"

"To our home world," the marine said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Caliban."

Elster permitted herself a small smile. "I think we can definitely work something out."

Chapter 53: Caliban

"Nomarch 06, you are clear to dock."

The boxy, navy blue exploration vessel slid forward, following the far larger vessels that had been its companions for weeks. Metal spires towered over the tiny ship, jutting from the edifice hung far above the planet's surface. An edifice that dwarfed even the cruiser that escorted them, by an order of magnitude.

More than any time before, the replika crew saw how much larger the rest of galactic civilization was. Both in overall area controlled, and the scale of their constructions.

Turning, the Nomarch slowed to a stop. Impulse thrusters nudged it into place beside a jutting prong twice the length of the little vessel.

Magnetic tethers shot from the dock, attaching themselves to the (former) Eusan Empire ship, then pulling it gently in. Solid struts then extended, themselves latching magnetically, to keep the ship from moving.

Finally, a longer bridge slowly extruded, spanning the gap. It mated itself to the hull around a pre-arranged airlock. Gas puffed out from the seam, as it formed an airtight seal. Granting passengers free access to the orbital shipyard.

"Docking successful, Nomarch. Welcome to Caliban."

 

"Machine God bless you, Adept Diodana. Welcome."

Diodana shuffled forward. Two metal hands shook in greeting. "And Omnissiah bless you, sirs," she said, nodding. Her four photo-receptors traveled across the group of assembled tech priests. "I confess, I am overwhelmed by base human sentiment, to see so many colleagues and devouts after such a long interim."

Magos Urdesh chuckled through layers of voice filters. "Would you believe it? It is a sentiment we share in common," he said, his trio of photo-receptors regarding her in turn. His body was bent, due to age and the mechanical augmentations used to compensate for it. He leaned heavily on a complicated tech staff. "Since the Warp tumult, our informal conclave has been largely isolated from outside contact with our respective mother forges."

"I suppose this explains the presence of priests wearing the colors of Holy Mars," Diodana said, continuing to shake the hands of the assembled faithful, "standing as they do behind the honorable scions of Lucius." At a gesture, she beckoned Daisy to step forward and greet them as well.

"An unlikely meeting, so it is," said Urdesh, nodding. "Necessity makes for strange work partners."

The group of assembled Mechanicum tech priests that came to meet them were roughly divided into two sections. By far the larger were a coterie of priests draped in cream-colored robes, their mechanical parts in turn painted an almost black shade of gray. Priests, adepts, and magi of proud and independent-minded Forge World Lucius.

Beside them, huddled together, were three faithful wearing the classic crimson of Holy Mars. Diodana shook the hands of their lead priest.

"Adept Diodana," said the priest warmly, organic eyes peeking out from over a rebreather mask. An auxiliary photo-receptor was bolted to the side of his head, a wire running back to disappear inside his hood. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"You have heard of me?" Diodana said. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Tech Priest Oscillias, elder," the man said, nodding. His exposed eyes betrayed a measure of...expectation. "..."

"Oscillias?" Diodana said, tilting her head to the side. She tapped her mask pensively. "...that name is...familiar..."

A brief look of disappointment. He shut his eyes, and shook his head. "No matter, no matter," he said, waving a hand. "It is a trifle. Such an august adept as yourself cannot be expected to remember."

"Remember what, sir?"

The man sighed. "...it is of little concern," he said. "But if it bears any relevance...I am, technically, your offspring."

Diodana's head inclined back, fractionally. "Ah! I remember!" she said, wagging a metal finger. "Yes, you were on the list. Apologies, Oscillias."

"No apologies necessary, Madam Adept," he said, formally. He waved a hand dismissively. "Your progeny are many, and the needs of the Omnissiah great."

"..." Diodana paused. Studied her offspring's face. "...I must admit, my long absence from the Mechanicum has forced me to reconsider the relevance of familial bonds."

The assembled priests remained silent, uncomfortable with such...intimacy. Many politely looked away.

Oscillias coughed. "...is this one of your students, Madam?" he said, gesturing to Daisy.

"Ah, yes," Diodana said, nodding. She stood by the replika's side and patted her shoulder. "The eldest of my...current crop of students. Greet them, ARAR-N0601."

"H-hello," Daisy said, nodding. She shook the hand of her master's erstwhile son. "I'm happy to greet the faithful who had the privilege of walking on Holy Mars." She nodded to the priests of Lucius. "And of Holy Lucius, of course."

Oscillias looked down at the replika's hands. Then to her neck. "Your bionics are fascinating, sister...?"

"Daisy," the Ara said, nodding. "Though teacher, of course, calls us all by our...numerical designations." She assiduously side-stepped the matter of her being one of many clones.

"Are your eyes bionic, by any chance?"

"They are."

Oscillias's eyes widened. He looked into her face. "Fascinating," he said. When Daisy averted her gaze, uncomfortable, he leaned back. "Apologies. They are simply incredible. A product of your home culture?"

"..." Daisy kept her mouth shut. She side-eyed Diodana.

Her teacher noticed, and interjected. "Yes, they are," Diodana said, waving her hand. "A surprisingly elegant set of bionics, for an otherwise primitive civilization."

Magos Urdesh leaned heavily on his cyber-staff, as he and a number of his subordinates ambled slowly to the large viewing window. They gazed out at the (relatively) small, foreign craft. "I take it your vessel hails from the same system, Adept Diodana?" he called.

"Ah, yes!" Diodana said, wandering to the window. "I apologize for the crude adaptations. It was the best work that could be performed under the conditions..."

"Where did it hail from?"

Diodana waved a hand dismissively. "A system on the eastern fringe of the Segmentum Obscurus, honored Magos," she said. "The previous ship on which I and my then-students were stationed, the Joys of Duty, became...irreparably compromised by accident."

"Accident?" Magos Urdesh asked, looking sideways at her.

"Foul Xenos."

"Ah. A thousand pities," Urdesh said, looking back at the ship and nodding. "The original vessel could not be recovered?"

"It was...far from Imperial or Mechanicum contact," Diodana lied. "Navigator and Astropath slain, along with the rest of the crew..." She took a gamble, seeking to play on sympathy. "...including those self-same original students."

"My deepest apologies, Madam," Urdesh said, dropping the subject.

"Yes," said Oscillias, walking up with Daisy and his Martian compatriots, to regard the ship. "I'm sorry for your loss, Madam."

"It is alright," Diodana said, waving dismissively. "We all understood the risks." She stared out the window. "They continue to serve the Omnissiah, as part of the Nomarch's systems."

The tech priests assembled all nodded, knowing. Daisy looked around at them, then nodded along.

She knew the skulls of Diodana's old students were incorporated into the Nomarch. She didn't realize just how universal the practice was.

"So, this vessel..." Urdesh said. "It is modified from the parts of the Joys of Duty?"

"A tragically necessary adaptation," Diodana lied. "The Nomarch and her captain saved me, marooned as I was. I was obliged..." Under duress. "...to return the favor, by effecting a refit of their vessel. Such that it could be made Warp-capable."

"Unorthodox in the extreme," Urdesh said. "But...understandable, given the circumstances. And it is better that the Machine God's holy instruments be put to wholesome use, rather than being left to decay in the void. Or, worse, being subject to looting by pirates or, Omnissiah forbid, Xenos."

"Plus, it looks like fine work," Oscillias said, nodding. "Given the adverse conditions."

"My new students and I have labored long and hard to bring it this far, yes," Diodana said, nodding. She clapped a metal hand on Daisy's shoulder. "Still, there is always more labor on the docket, and a perpetual shortage of time to complete it."

"Wise words," Urdesh nodded. "If you wouldn't mind, we could assist effecting your repairs. Perhaps even provide...upgrades?"

"Your generosity is palpable, honored Magos," Diodana said, bowing her head. "I will, of course, graciously accept. My cadre of ARARs are at your disposal."

"And our tech priests and servitors yours," Urdesh said, returning the bow. "Is there any pressing upgrades required?"

"The primitive fission reactor on the Nomarch badly needs enhancement," Diodana said. "Or, preferably, supplement. In the few void battles we have had the displeasure to participate in, power shortfalls are our greatest nemesis. There is simply not enough for everything."

"A problem that can be ably fixed," Urdesh said. "Our allies among the Dark Angels have signed off on any reasonable work. As recompense for allowing troublesome pirates to be brought to heel. And for bringing their ships home, and opening the way beyond the system. I can offer a Lucius pattern plasma generator."

"A very generous gift, honored Magos," Diodana said, bowing. "Thank you."

"Will we have room for another generator?" Daisy asked, pressing fingers to her lips pensively. "Interior space is tight as it is."

"We shall have to construct another external module," Diodana said, nodding. She looked to Urdesh. "This will not be too much trouble, will it?"

"I assumed an external module would be required from the outset, yes," Urdesh said, nodding. "Caliban's shipyard has been manufacturing many hull plates, in anticipation for rejoining the Crusade once Warp Turbulence has abated. It will be simplicity itself to requisition additional plates for the task."

Oscillias leaned forward. "If Madam Adept wishes," he said, "we Martians can supply the Nomarch with a number of additional weapons batteries. The installation of a plasma generator would permit an energy surplus great enough to provide for them. Perhaps, even, a light lance."

"Thank you, Oscillias," Diodana said, nodding. "You are too kind."

"It would be irresponsible for me not to provide all I can for my..." The tech priest paused, looking down. "My elder. Moreover, our manufactora have been producing a high supply of lascannon arrays."

"..." Diodana nodded. "I understand. Thank you." She turned to Daisy. "ARAR-N0601, contact the other Aras, and the Administrator. We must prepare a preliminary work schedule. We will be very busy, to effect the necessary changes."

"Will do," Daisy nodded. She turned, bowing to the assembled Mechanicum tech-clergy. "Magos, Adepts, Priests. If you will excuse me."

The tech-priests of Caliban nodded, allowing Daisy to depart.

"While we wait for all necessary preparations to conclude," Urdesh said, looking back to the ship, "we have much to discuss, pertaining to the wider galaxy. You are the first to breach the Warp tumult and provide news of the outside. We would know the wider state of affairs, Madam Adept."

Diodana sighed, steepling metal fingers together pensively. "I'm afraid matters are...quite dark."

 

"Our lord will see you now."

Elster nodded. She and Dash rose from the velvet couch, crossing the well-appointed lounge.

"Thank you," she said to the gestalt butler holding the door. He nodded in return.

He led the replikas across a stone veranda, the cool wind whipping in from the valley below. Carved stone columns cast shadows over them as they walked, the sun bathing the landscape below in vivid color.

Below the castle, at the foot of the mountain, a quaint village nestled in rocky crags. But whatever modest activity it once held was gone now. Its streets were vacant, save military vehicles and trucks that moved in both directions through the main street to the castle gates.

Beyond the village, across a river, stretched farmland. Once partitioned into individual plots, now opened up and plowed by great threshing machines.

Beyond the farms, a once unspoiled forest. Now, slowly being devoured by colossal deforesting equipment. Far to the right from their vantage, sitting beneath a growing cloud of black smog, was a burgeoning hive city.

Elster lingered at that scene a moment. Then, continued walking. They were led across a stone bridge, spanning a gap from the main keep to an annex tower.

Two space marines in identical sets black power armor stood on either side of double doors into the tower. The Astartes wore white robes over their suits. Hands rested on ornate, two-handed power swords, sheathed with tips pointing down. At their belts were master-crafted bolt pistols.

Elster gulped, adjusting the hem of her knit wool sweater nervously. Red and black, another gift from Vanessa. Despite everything, it was the nicest set of clothing Elster owned. Aside from the Eusan Empire captain's uniform, which she considered inappropriate (not to mention potentially hazardous, if it pointed onlookers back to their home system, and gave away their identity).

Everything else in her wardrobe were functional, bedraggled, weather-worn, and/or concealing. She wore a pair of cargo pants, lacking other options. And Dash had to come in their "standard" ensemble for military work (sans weapons, checked at the door).

Until now, it never occurred to Elster to procure "nice" clothes for meeting "important people". Usually, she could get away with showing up in the guise of a mercenary, to match the expectations of her clients. Or in layers of clothing to hide as much of her identity as possible, which under certain contexts was also entirely appropriate. Especially during the war, appearing in combat garb was almost always expected. There was so rarely time for formalities. So many to kill, so little time to kill them.

For the first time in her life (and, as far as she knew, that of her gestalt's life), Elster agonized over what to wear. She still wasn't sure meeting an official in charge of Legion forces in a semi-casual knit sweater was the right choice.

At least it warmed her, in the cool climate.

If the marines flanking the doors judged her fashion choices one iota, they betrayed it not. They simply regarded her from behind helmet lenses, impassively. At a word from the gestalt servant leading them, the Astartes nodded, and allowed them entrance.

"...quite the production, huh?" Dash whispered, as they scaled a wide set of spiraling stone steps, scaling up the tower. She leaned down to press her masked face close to Elster. "Is this another of those...'Knight Worlds'?"

"Oh no, nothing so fancy as that," said the servant shakily. As he doddered up the stair, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Caliban never had the privilege of such august walkers." He turned away, lowering his voice. "Certainly, it would have made some things far easier...but we've always had 'knights', of a more...traditional variety. And suits of powered armor. Worn by valiant warriors of The Order and...its forebears."

"Huh," Dash said, crossing her arms. "Takes all kinds in this galaxy, huh? Right, mom?"

"..." Elster nodded, steadying herself on the carved wood railings. "The Night was long. Or...so they say."

At the top of the staircase, they entered a half-circle room. A handful of gestalts stood or sat in chairs or benches. Multiple wore suits of Astartes-like power armor, despite being notably smaller. These men were visibly older, though their bodies betrayed no apparent enfeeblement.

They turned from their quiet conversations, regarding the replikas warily.

"G-guten tag," Elster said, nodding nervously. Hands clasped behind her back.

"This way," the servant said, waving Elster over. He bowed his head to the assembled men. "My lords."

The gentlemen nodded in acknowledgment. They kept an eye on the newcomers.

A bead of sweat rolled down Elster's scalp.

The servant opened a pair of double doors wide, and stood at the threshold. "Commander Elster, of the Nomarch, sir," he called into the room. "And her companion."

"Come in," came a voice from within.

Elster strode forward cautiously, nodding to the servant who stood aside. "Thank you," she said, before leading her daughter into the room.

The circular floor at the top storey the tower was partitioned in half by the wall in which the door was set. Slices of the room beyond were further partitioned by other walls along the sides, perhaps creating private chambers (Bathroom? Office?). Forming a rectangular space inside the circular floor. Wood paneling lined the lower portion of the walls, leaving the upper bare stone blocks exposed. Artificial torches sat in black iron sconces, electric wires cleverly threaded in the grout lines between blocks, before disappearing behind wood panels.

Ornate tapestries hung on the walls, giving much-needed color to the drab room. They depicted some scenes from normal (medieval) life. Lords and ladies at court. Romantic trysts or scenes of comedy. But the greatest portion of all tapestries were devoted to scenes of knights. One depicted knights engaged in a joust. Most depicted knights engaged in battle with fantastical beasts.

Or, at least, beasts that seemed, to Elster, fantastical. For all she knew, they were all real. The galaxy was a strange place.

Dominating the room was a central oak table, with seats for ten people. A wrought-iron chandelier hung from wooden ceiling rafters. At the far end of the table, white light filtered in from a large window.

A figure in powered armor stood silhouetted against the daylight. His bare head turned.

"Welcome, welcome," the man said. He gestured with a gauntleted hand to the table. "Please, take a seat."

Creak. Click.

The replikas turned their heads, as the double doors were closed.

Elster flinched, seeing two more figures in power armor standing on either side of the doorway. "..."

"Eh?" Dash said, looking at the armored gestalts in surprise.

"Apologies," the figure by the window said, waving a hand. He stepped away from the light, allowing his face to become visible in the warm, artificial torchlight of the room. "You need not worry about my guards. Please, sit." He smiled.

Elster nodded, taking a seat at the table. Joined, reluctantly, by Dash.

The replika commander regarded the man curiously.

His hair and well-trimmed beard were black. His face, while maintaining a healthy, youthful cast, was creased by deep lines. Despite the smile, there was a dourness to the man. In stature, he was much alike to many of the others wearing power armor, and to ALL such men in the tower with them. Taller than a normal gestalt, but diminutive compared to an Astartes.

Hand resting on the back of the chair at the far end of the table, the man nodded. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "My name is Luther. I am told you have important information to share with me."

 

"...when we informed your man on the Galahad's Grace of the war, he insisted on you being informed personally. Thus, here we are."

Luther's hand rested on the stone window frame. Eyes looked out at the landscape beyond. "...I apologize, Lady Elster," he said, gravely. "It is...a lot to take in."

"I'm sorry I had to be the one to inform you, Sir," Elster said, chin resting on fingers weaved together, elbows propped on the oaken table.

"Horus Lupercal," Luther said, shaking his head. "A traitor? Forgive me if I find it difficult to believe."

Elster shrugged. "You aren't obligated to take my word for it, Sir. Every Imperial citizen we've come across still finds it shocking. I'm to understand the Warmaster was well-liked and well-respected."

Tap, tap, tap.

An armored finger tapped the cold stone.

"Forgive my impudence, Lady Elster," Luther said. He turned his head, eye looking over his shoulder. "You never stated the full nature of your business, moving through such long stretches of contested territory. To whom, may I ask, do you swear in this conflict?"

Elster gulped. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dash twist uncomfortably in her seat.

"...our company are simple mercenaries, good Sir," Elster said, maintaining an impassive expression. "We are pursuing a job for which we were contracted before the outbreak of hostilities, that we aim to see through."

"..." Luther looked away. "So...you are not here at the Warmaster's orders, to attempt to...sway me to his side?"

"Certainly not, Sir," Elster said, smiling nervously. "As I said, we are mercenaries. Nor, if I may be so bold, do we really count ourselves as citizens of this Imperium." She side-eyed Dash. "As far as we're concerned...this civil war is an internal Imperium matter. We're here to repay the kindness of the Galahad's Grace."

Tap, tap, tap. "I see," Luther said. "..."

An uncomfortable silence. Broken only by the ticking of a grandfather clock pressed against a wall.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Elster was about to speak, when Luther did so first.

"Lads," he said, raising his voice. "Can you give us some privacy? Don't worry, I can protect myself." He turned his head. "Apologies, lady, but may I request your companion wait outside with them? It will only be a few minutes."

Dash looked over to the knights at the door, then to Elster. "...mom?" she said, nervously.

"It'll be fine, Dash," Elster said, nodding. She smiled. "Have a talk with those nice men outside, why don't you?"

"..." Reluctantly, Dash rose to her hooves and walked to the door. Took one last glance back, then followed the knights outside.

Creak. Click.

The knight and the replika were silent, for a space. Allowed the clock to tick by.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"...I am...sympathetic, you know."

Elster exhaled, feeling the tension in her chest deflate. Raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

Luther clasped hands behind his back. "About remaining neutral, in the face of such...widespread violence. About such...senseless belligerence."

Tick, tick, tick.

"...if I may be so bold," Luther said, "may I offer speculation, Lady Elster?"

Elster shrugged. "You may."

"...that you say you are not an Imperial citizen, implies to me that your world was subject to conquest by this...fine Imperium." Luther sighed the word, as if he couldn't keep the exasperation from his voice. "That your home no longer...feels like home."

"That...was already true, before the Imperium came," Elster sighed, nodding. "But while I wouldn't exactly call my home system good during the old regime...the Imperium did us no favors. Certainly, it did my people nothing but harm."

Luther turned, regarding the replika sideways. "...I see..." He looked away. "...such is the way of things, in this...Imperium." He turned his head to the window. "Have you see the landscape of Caliban?"

"I saw it on our walk here, yes," Elster said, nodding. "It is very beautiful, Sir."

"Join me?" Luther said, gesturing with a hand to the other side of the window.

Part of Elster suspected ill intent, in asking her to stand by an open window at the top of a tall tower, while there were no witnesses. Still, she felt just as ill-at-ease in refusing. She rose to her hooves and circled around the table. Took a spot by the window. "...yes...it is extremely beautiful, Sir."

"But it could be more beautiful," Luther said, turning to stare out the window. "Could it not? Without the..." He extended a hand and gestured at the hive city jutting impudently from the plains and rolling hills. "It used to be so much more, before all that." He frowned. "Before the...Imperium came."

"..." Elster looked at the man, then side-eyed the industrial build-up. The smoke belched from innumerable manufactora.

"We had things well in hand, you know," Luther said, eyeing the hive city like a doctor eyed an unsightly boil to be lanced. "Our Order had eliminated almost all of the Great Beasts of Caliban. Unity was won...albeit at great cost. All was right in Caliban. Then the Imperium came, and...well, you see the results of their 'civilizing' efforts. All done in the name of supplying the Great Crusade. Even our knight aspirants are funneled into the Legion. And for what? To just sit here, while he..."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"..." Elster eyed the gestalt. "...Sir?"

Luther shook his head. "...I burden you with matters that do not concern you." He looked at Elster. "...that was your daughter, who was with you?"

"Ja," Elster said, nodding. "One of my oldest, Dash."

"You have more?"

She smiled. "Almost my entire crew are my children, Sir Luther."

"You should be proud," Luther said, smiling in return. "They've brought you so far." He looked to the horizon. Eyes studying the verdant green of distant forests. "I am...was...am a father, you know."

Elster frowned. "...I'm...sorry for you loss..." she said.

Luther shook his head. "I have...one son remaining, at least," he said, shutting his eyes. "Though...I have not seen him in...so very long."

The replika looked back into the room. Her eyes alighted to a tapestry she hadn't noticed before. One that hung over the door, so the one who sat at the far end of the table had to stare at it at all times.

A tapestry depicting many black-clad knights slaying a giant lion, on the bottom half. At their fore, delivering the killing blows, a pair of knights. The top half of the tapestry rendered portraits of two knights, standing side by side. One was the spitting image of Luther himself. The other, towering over him, the stoic visage of a giant with long, blond hair and beard.

Woven beneath the figures, in immaculate faux scrollwork, was the caption, "Luther & The Lion, Champions of the Order".

Lion El'Jonson, thought Elster, narrowing her eyes. The Primarch of the First Legion Dark Angels.

Luther sighed. "In...any event..." He put on a more cheerful expression. "I thank you for informing me of this news, dire though it be. And, more importantly, for bringing our ships home."

"You are very welcome, Sir Luther," Elster said, bowing her head.

"I'm also told your navigators taught ours how to circumvent the Warp storms," Luther said. "For that, you have my thanks. It will be far easier to come and go, now."

Elster shrugged. "Your people may not get very far," she said. "There are many paths, none simple to traverse."

"Still, it is a start," Luther said, bowing his head. "How long were you planning on staying?"

"A few weeks, while the Mechanicum in orbit provide generous repairs and upgrades to our ship. Thank you, by the way." Elster pointed to the ceiling. "Then, we're off."

"Since you're stuck here for the time being anyway," Luther said, gesturing to the window. "why not take your family out to see Caliban?"

"Really?" Elster said, eyes lighting up.

"Really. True, Caliban is not as...unspoiled as it once was," Luther said, frowning briefly. He rallied his smile. "But there are still parts of the planet that remain verdant. We also have all the amenities of an industrial world, if you visit the hives."

"Is it really okay?" Elster said, pressing fingers to her mouth. "To come and go?"

"Do as you please," Luther said. "The galaxy is, apparently, wracked by war. But Caliban is, for the moment, at peace. Enjoy your stay, my lady. Treat your children to Caliban's natural beauty..." He turned away, and muttered under his breath. "...while it lasts."

"Sir Luther," Elster said, wryly, "are you suggesting we take a vacation?"

Luther nodded. "Just so, Lady Elster."

The replika smiled. "That does sound good. Thank you."

 

"I'm sorry, I forgot while I was in the castle. Is there a...bathroom, here in the village?"

The castle guards eyed each other, then nodded. One of the gestalts pointed towards the collection of buildings. "One of those buildings will have a latrine, miss."

Elster bowed. "Thank you!" she said, clapping her hands together. She turned. "Dash, stay with these nice men until I get back, won't you?"

Dash blinked, then shrugged. "O-okay, sure."

"Just don't wander off," said a guard. "You wouldn't want to keep this one waiting, right?" He pointed a thumb at Dash.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Elster said, waving a hand dismissively. She smiled. "I'll just be a minute."

She wandered down a side street, hooves clacking on the ancient cobbles. Eyes darted around.

Helpfully, the village had been modified, since its inhabitants vacated however many decades ago. Buildings with latrines were clearly marked with signs.

Ducking out of sight, she entered one of the buildings. The interior was dark, lit only by light filtering in from the windows. Her hooves creaked on old wood floors. Fingers traced dusty walls, eyes passing over a largely bare interior. Only a scant few bits of furniture - a table, a cabinet painted in chipping blue paint - adorned the otherwise sparse domicile. It took her only a moment to find the bathroom.

She made a show of employing the facilities. Even washed her hands, just for effect. It was mostly to kill time.

Exiting the building, she tarried just long enough to look around the abandoned street. After a moment, she found a promising spot.

Stooping in the shadow of a building, Elster fished in her pocket for a cloth bundle. Unwrapping the item, she lifted the iron grate of a storm drain. She couldn't help looking down at the small disk in her hand, cast in dental plaster looted from a destroyed urban center several systems ago.

The symbol cast in the disk hurt to look at. She sneered, averting her eyes.

Glancing briefly over her shoulder, she reached and set the disk on the bottom of the drain, face down. Tucked it as far beyond the grating as she could manage, to avoid it being casually discovered. With that done, she lowered the grate and stood. Pocketed the cloth, and made back towards where she left Dash with the guards.

In the shadow of a side-street, a figure in power armor peeked down. Glanced at the retreating replika, then at the grate.

 

"Secession? Has he gone mad?"

"There's nothing for it. Where the Master of the Order commands, we..."

The two knights quieted, as an Astartes squeezed his way up the stairs.

"Elder brothers," he said, nodding behind his helmet. He clutched a bundle wrapped in butcher paper in his hand.

The two nodded in return, then passed by. Not recommencing their conversation until well out of earshot. Even then, in hushed tones.

Creak. Click.

"Master Luther," the Astartes said, bowing before the long table. "I tailed the cyborg, as instructed."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Luther looked away from the window, and nodded. "Good," he said, "report."

The Astartes looked over either shoulder, ensuring the two were alone. He crossed the room, heavy footfalls clacking on the stone floors. He stopped before the old knight, and knelt.

An upraised hand. "She used the pretense of defecation to sneak off alone, then deposited this in a storm drain." The paper bundle sat in his open palm.

Luther paused. "Show me."

Nodding, the marine unfurled the package. Exposed the plaster cast, and its baleful sign. "It hurts to witness, Master."

Luther winced, staring at the symbol. "Yes...it does." Scowled. He reached down and, tentatively, picked it up, paper and all. He studied it ruefully.

"Shall I have the women seized and questioned, my lord?" the marine asked, looking up.

"..." Luther pursed his lips. Then, rewrapped the paper. "No. She shall be allowed to leave." He looked at the marine. "See to it she and her company are observed, throughout their stay. I would know their comings and goings."

"Understood," the marine said, bowing his head. "And that object?"

"Leave it to me," Luther said, nodding. "There's a good lad. You are dismissed." As the Astartes took to his feet again, Luther added, "It goes without saying, but speak not a word of this."

"Of course, Master Luther," the marine said, pressing a hand to his breast and bowing.

As the Astartes departed, Luther turned back to the window. He unfurled the package, to regard it once more.

Creak. Click.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Luther's eyes snapped up, gazing at the horizon. At the once and future Caliban. He wrapped the bundle again and deposited it in a pouch on his belt.

The First of the Fallen would study its arcane significance later, when he could add the obvious Chaos artifact to the rest of his collection.

Chapter 54: Shopping Spree

"Yeah, we've been 'on vacation' for the last two years. It's a total drag."

Footsteps, conversations, and the squeals of children echoed down the halls. Neon signs tinted cream-colored laminate tiles in various hues. Corners were crowded by trash-cans and pots occupied by fake plants. A beleaguered husband (or boyfriend, or assistant) carried stacks of paper boxes and bags, trailing behind a stylish woman in an incongruous wide-brimmed hat and pair of sunglasses.

"...r-really?" Vanessa scratched her cheek nervously. A bag full of knitting and sewing supplies hung from one arm. "Is that...normal?"

The pale, scrawny teenage girl behind the sausage-on-a-stick stand snorted.

"Tch, no," she said, leaning on the stand. She blew a strand of short, black hair out of her face. She wore a white and orange striped shirt, and a matching cloth hat. "I mean, with how long space travel takes, we blocked out a year for the full tour. Me and my dumb brother got saddled with homeschool packs for the voyages and everything. But obviously, that material ran out a while ago. Along with what spending money mom and dad took."

"Oh," Vanessa said, eyes widening fractionally. "So...that's..."

The bored gestalt's finger tapped absentmindedly her nostril piercing. "Yep," she sighed, "that's why I'm handing out stick-meat, wearing this dumb uniform. After the resort decided to stop accommodating us for free, we had to move up here to the hives. 'Sorry for the inconvenience' my ass. It's not our fault the ships don't work."

Trish (EULR-N0613) looked sideways at Vanessa. "...well..." She smiled nervously. "...I'm sure the storms will pass...one of these days?"

"Gads, I hope so," the teen sighed. Dark bangs flopped over one eye. She blew at it impotently, propping up her cheek on her hand. "At least there's shopping here. I'd hate to be stuck on that agri-world we visited. I'd lose my damn mind."

The younger Eule eyed the girl curiously. She smiled. "You look pretty...stylish, I mean." She rubbed the back of her head, blushing. "Where did you get your...everything?" Sweat poured down the side of her head. "Your eyelinger and rings and stuff?"

The gestalt's mouth turned up slightly at the sides. "You like it?" she said, standing up straight. The little goth beamed. "Yeah, I got so bored here, I had to change up my style." She pointed down the hall. "I get all my stuff from Rot Topic. It's just down that way. If Megan's on duty, tell her Dena sent you. She'll hook you up."

Trish's face lit up. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Oh empress..." she breathed. Turned to Vanessa. "Can we...?"

Vanessa sighed, then smiled. "Okay, okay," she said, shutting her eyes and nodding. "Just hold on a second."

The elder Eule walked a few paces, hooves clacking on the laminated tiles. "Hey, D.T.!" she called, cupping a hand to her cheek.

Leaned against a wall, propped up on a pair of Ara legs (to at least try to keep a low profile), Double Tap snapped to attention. "Yeah?" she called back.

"I'm going to take Trish over to a place called 'Decay Topic'."

"ROT Topic," the teen called, correcting the Eule. She shook her head.

"Yeah, that," Vanessa called.

"Okay," Double Tap said. She looked sideways at the more mundane clothing boutique next to her. "If the girls get done here, we'll meet you there."

"Got it," Vanessa called, giving a thumbs up. She half turned back, before adding. "Oh, and D.T. Have you heard back from Tue yet?"

"Nope," the Star said, shrugging. "Last I heard, she's still doing..." She looked around, then hunched down. "...that thing. I've still got all her stuff and everything." Double Tap gestured to the bags of model boat and voidship supplies, and books (about boats and voidships).

Vanessa stroked her chin. "...I guess she'll be in touch when she's done..."

 

Finally.

Tulip's mechadendrites squeezed between vent grating and unscrewed it. She lifted the panel up, and crawled partway out. Felt around on the nearby wall, tapping a pipe for temperature. When it didn't burn her, she gripped it for support.

Jutting out into the empty space, she cast her mechadendrite-mounted flashlight around.

The vertical air shaft extended far into the distance, both up and down. Looking up, nothing but darkness extended for miles above. Air flowed down, pumped from colossal fans to the lower hive levels. Looking down, she found what she was looking for.

Whether a deliberate reservoir, sewer system, or just an accidental sump due to leakage, several meters down was the surface of water. Rippling gently from the breeze above. Bubbles burbled from the depths every few seconds, implying a hidden pocket of air or leaky gas pipe.

Checking a schematic on her digital interface, Tulip frowned. Yep, I was right, she thought, scowling. Whoever drew up the As-Built for this place screwed up, as expected. Those chucklefucks. Oh well. At least I found it in the end.

She made a mental note to hack the hive's database and manually update the As-Built. It wouldn't correct the paper backup documents, and it would confuse city planners. But it might at least save some poor engineer in the future a world of headaches.

It wouldn't, of course. But neither Tulip nor anyone on Caliban could have known what was coming.

The Ara fished in her belt, and removed the package. The cloth bundle containing the plaster cast was further encased in bubble wrap. Bound in duct tape and attached to several rusted bolts fished from a warzone three systems back. Enough mass to overwhelm the buoyancy of the bubble wrap, enough padding to (hopefully) stop the object inside from shattering if it hit a hard surface.

Tulip gripped the bundle in a mechadendrite claw, then held it out into the open air as far as she could.

With a single mental impulse, she let the package go. Watched it drop like a lead weight, falling for whole seconds.

Ploosh.

Water splashed up, ripples cascading out along the surface, as the plaster cast was consigned to the drink.

As the Ara nodded and ducked back inside the vent, the bundle of dental plaster, metal, duct tape, and plastic sank.

 

"Where did they say they were?"

STCR-N0603's finger traced over the map affixed to the wall. "...I think it was some place called..." she said, furrowing her brow. "Ah! There it is. 'Rot Topic'."

Breach nodded, stretching her arms over her head. "Alright. Lead the way, Ish."

The two ambled down the corridor slowly, on wobbly hooves. Still unaccustomed to their sets of ARAR pattern legs.

Ishtar tucked her hands in her pockets, and used them to hike her khaki cargo pants up a few inches. She, in particular, was unused to pants that reached so far down her legs. The Storch scowled, looking around self-consciously.

Other mall patrons passed them by, eyeing the replikas with a mixture of curiosity and bemused pity.

The Storch blushed. "...they're all staring at us," she growled under her breath to the Star.

"So?" Breach said, looking sideways.

"..." Ishtar had trouble putting it into words. She never minded being the center of attention back on the Nomarch. Enjoyed it, if anything. Everyone paid heed to the Storchs walking around, if only because they were impossible not to notice.

Out in public, with reduced height, made her feel...smaller. Less impressive. When she was the center of attention here, it felt less gratifying and more...embarrassing.

"Ngh!" Ishtar grunted, tripping over herself. Her hooves clacked noisily on the laminated tiles as she staggered to the side. Pressed her hand against a wall for balance.

"Whoa!" Breach said, rushing over to grab Ishtar's arm. "Easy, easy. I've..."

Two sets of eyes met. They stared at each other. Held their breaths. Not daring to move.

"Hah hah! Geeks!"

The two flinched, as a couple young men walked past, chuckling and pointing at them.

"...tch," Ishtar grunted, scowling. She forced herself up. "Oi! You got somethin' to say, you...ah!"

She lost her balance and fell into Breach's arms.

"Hey! Careful!" Breach said.

"What a couple spazz-queens!" one of the youths said.

The lads laughed as they walked away.

"Grrr..." Ishtar grunted, blushing. She looked away, mortified. Then, she looked at the Star holding her.

Breach, previously focused on the retreating youths, looked to Ishtar and went beet red. She backed away a step and threw her hands up. "Sorry, sorry!"

"..."

The two stared at the floor, frowning. Blushing furiously.

"...w-we should get going," Breach stammered, finally. She pointed and started walking. "This way, r-right?"

"R-right," Ishtar said somberly, rubbing her arm. She started to follow the Star. Both moved even more slowly, to keep upright.

The Storch, a few steps behind Breach, kept her eyes on the ground. Then, glanced up.

She found herself staring one, two, three seconds too long at the Star's ass. "Hrk!" Ishtar grunted, blushing again.

"S-something wrong, Ish?" Breach said, pausing to look over her shoulder.

"No! Nothing!" Ishtar said, averting her eyes hard to the side. "L-let's keep going..."

"Okay," Breach said, nodding nervously. She faced forward, and kept walking.

Ishtar shut her eyes, panting. Hugged herself.

It wasn't a mystery to her that she wanted Breach. Nor was Breach subtle enough to hide her interest in Ishtar. It's why they both volunteered to pair up together for this foray into "normal" society.

But the Storch found herself unable to initiate anything. Especially not in this moment. Her confidence was shaken. She felt...foolish. Unworthy? "...stupid assholes," she muttered under her breath, softly enough not to be heard by Breach.

She opened her eyes, and made to keep walking.

Her eyes looked up, from where her head turned sideways, and she froze.

"..."

Breach halted. "...Ish?" she said, turning. "Are you coming?"

She looked back, to find the Storch walking over to a store window.

Ishtar pressed a hand to the glass. Looked up. Gazed in mounting awe.

The mannequin in the display was draped in a flowing, elegant red dress. A matching red hat sat on its head, and pearl necklace hung from its neck. The dress clung flatteringly to its beige, cloth body.

"Ish?"

The Storch flinched, fingers curling against the glass. She blinked, then turned her head. "...what?"

Breach looked at the Storch, then glanced at the mannequin. The Star pursed her lips, nervously. Chewed her thumb. "...do you...want to go inside?"

Ishtar blinked, frowning. She shook her head, smiling sadly. "Hah hah...as if I..."

She looked back up at the mannequin. Her smile faded.

 

"Hmm...and you say this black material is your skin?"

The Storch vibrated and squirmed, as the wrinkled hands traced the contours of her neck. The long, painted nails glinting in the florescent light of the shop interior. "...y-yes, ma'am," Ishtar mumbled through clenched teeth, suppressing the urge to kill.

Plastic rimmed glasses pushed up. The gestalt woman with deep wrinkles frowned, green eyes drinking deep of the replika's form. She took the replika's hand and studied it closely. Traced by touch the finger segments beneath artificial skin. "Hmph. I see," the shop-keeper said. She sighed, nodding. "Very well. We shall simply have to work with it."

The gestalt's fingers brushed aside Ishtar's auburn hair. "Warm colored hair, pale skin," she mused. Looked into the replika's eyes. "...fascinating shade of dark blue..." She nodded. "Definitely a True Autumn." She snapped her fingers. "Come with me..."

"O-okay," Ishtar said, looking away. She hugged herself, following the gestalt.

"Good luck!" Breach called, from where she sat on a bench.

Ishtar looked over her shoulder, gulping.

"So..." said the gestalt, rifling through a rack of dresses, "which color do you like? Green, pink, orange, or red?"

 

Shing.

"W-well...what d-do you think?"

Breach sat to attention, lips screwed up. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "...whoa..." she breathed, eyes going wide.

Wine-red fabric swayed as the replika wobbled from the changing room. Ishtar balled one fist, extending it down at her side, while her thumb pressed to her lips. She shot furtive glances up at the Star. "...is it...that bad?" she mumbled.

Artificial eyes traveled over the contours of the Storch's body. Studied the way the dress hugged her hips, and accentuated the chest. Beads hung along her sides in strings, jingling softly with every movement. Her black, polyethalene shoulders were left bare, showing off the artificial muscle groups in her arms.

Catching herself staring, Breach blushed. "...y-y-you...look..." A crooked, giddy smile. "...you look incredible..." she breathed.

Color rushed to Ishtar's face. "R-really?" she mumbled, eyes widening. "Y-you think so?"

Breach nodded furiously, not taking her eyes off the Storch.

Ishtar's thumb traced her lips. Her eyes narrowed. "...really..." she breathed, deep and husky.

"You look lovely, darling!"

The replikas flinched, as the gestalt came over.

The woman adjusted her glasses, looking the Storch up and down. She beamed, self-satisfied. "You clean up very well, if I do say so myself."

"Th-thank you!" Ishtar said, stroking her cheek. She smiled, standing up straight. "I feel so...so..."

"It DOES feel good to look good, doesn't it?" the gestalt said, smiling. She sidled up beside the Storch. "To adorn ourselves in finery is not merely vanity, nor to attract members of the opposite..." She smiled slyly, looking at Breach. "...or the same sex..."

Breach flinched, going beet red. She pressed her fists into her lap. Mouth screwed shut. "..."

"...it's a matter of confidence, my dear," the gestalt continued, stroking Ishtar's shoulder. "To look our best is to command respect. To master one's appearance is to master the power within, in a manner far different than that of mere brutish violence. It is the audacity to display oneself, without shame. Remember that."

Ishtar clenched her fist, gulping. She inhaled, smiling. "...yeah..." she said, beaming.

The gestalt clapped her hands together. "Now, if you are satisfied with the piece," she said, closing her eyes and leaning forward, "will you be buying the dress today?"

The replikas flinched.

Ishtar's mouth screwed up nervously. "...h-how much are we talking?" she mumbled, looking sideways at the gestalt.

Good humor diminishing, the gestalt looked to the floor and sighed. Pressed fingers to her temple. "If you have to ask..."

Luckily, she didn't need to. Ishtar found the tag on the side of the dress and pulled it up to see.

Her heart sank.

Elster had afforded her children some spending money, each, to indulge themselves. Scraped together from salvage and pillage from several warzones they picked through on the way in. At least, that which wasn't directed towards upkeep costs. So Ishtar and Breach both had some local currency to work with.

They didn't have THAT much. Not even pooled together.

"I'm sorry," Ishtar said, deflating. "I...we...can't afford this."

The gestalt sighed, turning away. "A shame," she said, shaking her head.

Breach stood up and patted Ishtar's arm. "I'm sorry, Ish," she whispered, hanging her head.

"It's okay," Ishtar said, lay a hand on the Star's. She smiled sadly.

"I take it our wares are out of your price range, ladies?" the gestalt said, walking to the front counter.

"Afraid so," Ishtar said, staring forlornly at the floor. She sighed.

"If it's any consolation," the woman said, pushing her glasses up, "we may have something yet to offer you."

She gestured to a magazine rack near the front of the store. "Perhaps you may find something you have your heart set on, for when your finances are more...accommodating."

 

"Did you two have a good time? What'd you get?"

Breach crossed her arms behind her head. "Ish tried on a dress," she said. "But dresses cost too much, so she just got a bunch of fashion magazines."

"Really?" Double Tap said, tilting her head to the side. She stepped over and nudged the Storch with her elbow. "I didn't take you for being so girly."

Ishtar scowled, shutting her eyes. "Shut up," she said, crossing her arms. Her bag of magazines dangled from one hand. She looked away. "...am I not entitled to look my best?"

Breach smiled, and patted the Storch's shoulder. "I think you already look beautiful."

When Ishtar looked the Star in the eyes, the two looked away suddenly, blushing.

Petunia leaned in to whisper in Trinity's ear. "So are they an item yet, or...?"

Trinity side-hugged the Ara. "They'll get there, I'm sure."

"Speaking of looking one's best..."

The group looked over, as Vanessa exited Rot Topic.

She took a step to the side and gestured with both hands. "Tada."

The younger Eule waved. "H-hey girls."

Double Tap whistled. "Wow."

Trish wore a black shirt, adorned with the logo of some Terran music band not even natives of the throneworld itself had ever heard of. Much less the replikas present. Poking out from the short black sleeves were additional sleeves in black and white stripes. Around her hips was a baggy pair of black pants, held up by a length of silvery chain acting as a belt.

Silver (or at least silver-colored) rings wrapped around her fingers, depicting all manner of skulls and thorn patterns and black costume jewels. A black, spiked choker adorned her neck, which was difficult to see at first against her dark polyethylene skin.

Her hair was a mop of loose strands, standing up on their own through some kind of gel. And her eyes were framed by a thick layer of black mascara. Despite the distinctly dark and moody ensemble, she positively beamed.

"Like the new look?" she said, flashing a big, toothy smile. "I wanted to get a nose piercing too, but Van wouldn't let me."

"Not until you're older," Vanessa said, resting her bag of goods over her shoulder.

"I mean..." Trinity said, scratching her cheek. "It sure looks...distinctive."

"I think it looks cool," Petunia said, nodding impassively.

Double Tap shrugged. "It's nice. It'll really set you apart from all the other Eules, at least."

The Eule pressed her hands to her chest, smiling harder.

"...what's with all the thirteens?" Breach said, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh yeah, you're right," Ishtar said, frowning. She pointed at the Eule.

Sure enough, as the group looked closer, they noticed a motif that became lost amid the general shift in style. The band logo had a big '13' off to the side, significance unknown. She wore a ring with the number thirteen on it, and another thirteen pendent hung from her choker.

"Why thirteen?" Trinity said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's my favorite number," Trish said, tapping her neck pendent. "In fact, I think I want to start going by the nickname 'Trisk'."

"Eh?" Trinity said, crossing her arms and leaning forward. Her mouth gaped, confused. "Wha...why?"

"Oh," Petunia said, head rising fractionally. "Like, 'Triskaideka'?"

Trisk nodded, smiling. "Exactly!"

Vanessa stretched, grunted. "Well, this has been an eventful day. Are we ready to head back?"

"We're ready," Ishtar said, turning her head to look at Breach. She smiled.

Breach smiled in return. "Yeah."

"Hey Van," Ishtar said, looking forward. "Don't we have sewing supplies?"

"Yeah, we have a sewing machine," Vanessa said, nodding. "Why?"

"I'd like to talk to whoever can work it," Ishtar said. She held up her bag of fashion magazines. "I've got requests."

Vanessa walked over and took a look at the offered bag. "Huh," she said, blinking. She looked up at the Storch, surprised, then smiled. "I think we can work something out."

Ishtar smiled. "Thanks, Van."

"No problem."

The group were about to walk off, before Vanessa stopped in her tracks. "Wait!" she cried, holding arms out. "Where's Tulip?"

Bump, dunk, fnnk.

The replikas jolted to attention, as a nearby air vent popped open. A hand poked out, and then a whole torso.

"I'm here," Tulip said, crawling out and sitting up on her knees.

"Oh hey, there you are," Double Tap said. She held the bag of books and boat stuff out. "Just in time. I've been carrying this all afternoon."

Tulip rose to her hooves and received the cargo. "Thank you," she said, nodding.

"Did you get mom's mission done?" Vanessa asked, placing hands on her hips.

"Mmhmm," Tulip said, nodding. She looked down into her bag and forced a smile. "It's taken care of."

 

The bundle kept sinking.

Down, down, down. A hundred meters. Two hundred meters. A quarter kilometer. A half kilometer. A full kilometer. Two.

Beneath layers of infrastructure heaped up over the course of decades. Beneath even the cobblestone layers of the Old City, buried by the relentless, pitiless march of industry. It fell, not only through water and distance, but time.

The arcane artifact sank to the bottom of the hive. To the literal bedrock upon which it was constructed.

It came to rest on a bed of human bones. The accumulation of all the lives callously spent in the hive's making, discarded by accident or apathy. Consigned to the deep, where they and IT could be forgotten. An unwholesome object, bearing an unwholesome marker, nesting like a bird in an unwholesome heap.

Waiting, patiently, for when Caliban died. When it would crack like an egg. Hatch into something great and terrible, at the behest of its new, infernal master.

Chapter 55: Getting In Touch With Nature

"Just a little more!"

Sunlight warmed the cliff face, as hooves carefully found purchase with each foot of progress. Hands gripped the rope, as the body rappelled down. Mechadendrites dug into the rocky surface, gripping into cracks.

A steel-faced servo skull hovered beside the Ara.

"Sure you're okay?" came the voice from the skull, filtering the Mynah's voice from above.

"I'm just about..." Rose said, gritting her teeth. She rappelled once more, and staggered as her hooves kicked open air. She looked down at the hollow. "Oh!" she gasped, then smiled. "Found it!"

"Good," said Jenny, "now hurry. I don't want this going on longer than it needs to."

"Just need to hook myself in," Rose said. A spare mechadendrite pulled a hammer from her belt, and then looped around a piton. It held the spike in place against the cliff face. Focusing, the Ara hammered the piton into a crack in the stone. With one hand, she tugged down on it, to test the hold. "Got it," she said, before hooking one of her lines onto it.

Breathing deep, she wiped her forehead. Fingers tried to squeeze under her helmet to scratch her scalp. "Let me just...catch my breath," Rose said, huffing. Her long, red braid hang behind her, swaying in the wind.

After a moment, she lowered herself down, and fixed another piton just below the crevice she found. Switching her anchor point, she rested on the lip, looking in.

Even as the sun sank on the horizon, the light terminated abruptly a meter into the cliff-side cave, leaving only darkness. The Ara switched the headlamp on, leaning down to the cave mouth. Even then, she only won a few more meters before the upward slant of the tunnel blocked her view.

"Alright," Rose said, nodding. She started pulling herself inside, headfirst. "I'm going in now."

"Don't go too far," Jenny said. "You don't want to get stuck. Even I couldn't mine you out, if I can't get down the rock wall."

"I won't need to get very far," Rose called without looking, getting her knees through the threshold. Her mechadendrites reached back and unhooked her line. "I just need to get far enough in, that no one will stumble on it accidentally." She began to crawl. "Be back in a minute!"

"Stay safe!" Jenny called, through the skull's speakers.

"..."

Damp stone chilled Rose's hands, knees, forearms, and belly. She shivered, discomfited.

Metal ducts were often cold, but never wet. Not unless a leak sprang up, which was generally cause for concern in the Nomarch. Tactile feeling of stone dampened by the slow drip of snowmelt through micro-cracks in the strata above was, therefore, novel in an unpleasant way.

As was the extreme irregularity of the passage she traversed. Even with pipes, conduits, rivets, and junction boxes, the Nomarch's deep bowels were wholly intentional in design. No one but perhaps the gods themselves shaped the moist interior of the cave. Leaving all manner of sharp, jutting edges and deep cracks.

Still, she didn't need to travel far. And her mechadendrites, while slightly cumbersome in tight quarters, allowed her to pull along easily.

Meter by meter. Foot by foot. Inch by inch.

A ways in, the cave angled diagonally up. When her headlamp peeked beyond a bend in the tunnel, Rose permitted herself a smirk. There was a good chance this was the first time these patches of raw stone had ever seen light.

She held her breath. Listened. Somewhere, deep within the complex of tunnels, she heard the drip of water.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Finally, the tunnel began to narrow to the point she would need to squeeze. Her mechadendrites, probing ahead of her, found a sudden drop.

"Ah!" she breathed, pressing a hand against the ceiling. She shut her eyes, toggling a menu in her digital interface. She sent another mechadendrite, turning on a tiny flashlight built into its tip. It shined a light down the hole she found.

Through the tiny camera on the original mechadendrite, she observed a small, deep hole. In only went a meter before the crack narrowed to almost nothing. But it was wide enough.

"Perfect," Rose breathed.

She fished the bundle from her belt, pulling it in front of her face. A bundle of cloth scarcely larger than her palm. She felt the dental plaster disk inside it, about the size of a drink coaster.

Elster told her not to look. Against her mother's wishes, curiosity got the better of her, back on the shuttle ride down. The symbol hurt to look at. Some loathsome daemon sigil, probably. The Ara didn't need to see it again.

She placed the bundle in the mechadendrite's claw, and extended it forward. Found the hole, then tucked it down into the tiny pit. Let it fall a foot.

Click.

Whatever the plaster cast's purpose, it would not be found for a LONG time. Protected from the elements outside, it would probably outlast all the cities built on Caliban's surface.

Rose nodded, then began the arduous crawl backwards.

"..."

"I'm back!" Rose said, scooting butt-first from the hole. She felt around between her legs, and hooked herself back onto the anchor point.

"Rose!" Jenny yelled, both in relief and in anger. "It occurred to me while you were in there." Her voice rose in volume, peaking the microphone. "Why didn't you just send the skull in!?"

The Ara forced a smile. "Heh heh, yeah," Rose said, turning over on the lip of the crevice. "I thought about that, too. But there was no guarantee...ugh...I'd be able to keep a signal through all this rock."

"You could have fed a cable, you silly goose!" Jenny squawked.

"Yeah, but..." Rose laughed, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "...then I wouldn't be able to satisfy my caving curiosity. Now I can definitely say I've done it."

"Nnnngh," Jenny groaned.

Rose stared out at the sunset, sighing. "It's a beautiful view though, isn't it?"

"..." Jenny paused. Audibly exhaled. "...yes, it is."

For just a moment, before the arduous climb back up, the two just sat still.

They watched dusk wash over the mountains and valley forests of Caliban.

 

"Say 'Käsekuchen'!"

Hippolyta's eyes widened in surprise. "Eh?"

Snap.

The Kolibri lowered the camera, cheeks puffed out. "Hip," Circe groaned, brows furrowed. "You didn't smile."

Fsshh.

"Wha...how was I supposed to know? You just sprung it on me!" Hippolyta said, frowning. She raised the oars from the water and cycled them to the front. "I'm trying to paddle here!"

The two replikas bobbed in the wooden rowboat, gentle waves lapping against the hull. Wind carried the scent of pine across the lake, from the thick, expansive forests that framed the shores on three sides.

The Kolibri pulled the photograph from the slot on her oversized, boxy camera. She flapped it around, waiting for the picture to appear. "Come on, Hip," Circe whined, narrowing her eyes. "I wanted to get a good shot of you against that view."

Hippolyta looked over her shoulder, and frowned.

Behind her back, the hills on the far shore were dominated by a quaint valley village. Buildings huddled together, topped by dull red roofs, their exteriors painted in ochers, whites, and creams. A harbor clung to the shore, white sails jutting up from boats that docked beside it.

The village clung to the base of a pine-covered mountain. Far above, jutting from an outcropping of naked stone, a castle overlooked the domain. Banners rippled in the breeze atop the fortress's tall spires. A monument to Caliban's pre-Imperial glory.

"...oh..." Hippolyta said, head turning to look forward again. "Well, you should've told me."

"It was implied by me telling you to say 'Käsekuchen'," Circe huffed, looking down at the photo.

"I don't even know what a 'cheese-cake' is!" Hippolyta said, burying the oars into the water and pulling back. The boat glided forward.

"They had it at the restaurant, remember?" Circe said, flapping the photo impatiently. "That old couple were eating it for dessert at the table next to us."

The Storch blinked. "Wait, that's what that was?" Hippolyta said, looking up at the white clouds gliding over the deep blue sky. "Huh."

"We should get some for dinner today," Circe said. She looked at the photo and giggled. "Hah!"

"What's so funny?" Hippolyta said, frowning. "I can't look that bad, right?"

Circe held the photo out to the Storch. "Look at your face!"

Leaning forward, Hippolyta narrowed her eyes. She frowned. "Whaaaaat?" she said, her face going red.

"You look so derpy!" Circe chortled, hugging herself.

"I do not!" Hippolyta barked, fuming.

But she couldn't help herself. As the Kolibri sat, taken by a giggle fit, the Storch had to smile. "Snk!" she snorted, doubling over. "Hah hah hah! O-okay, okay!" she giggled. "I guess it IS pretty funny!"

The laughter was infectious. The two chuckled and giggled, filling the air with their mirth until they hugged their stomachs.

Finally, Circe gasped, forcing herself to breathe. "...oh empress..." she said, shaking her head.

"...heh heh...woo!" Hippolyta heaved, wiping a tear from her eye. "Damn..."

Circe smiled. "Hey, can we try it again?"

Hippolyta nodded, grinning. "Sure, sure," she said. "Just...count it down for me."

"Okay," Circe said. She raised the camera, looking through the viewfinder. "Ready?"

"Ready," Hippolyta said, sitting up.

"Say 'Käsekuchen' on three." Circe leaned over, to get a good view of the distant town and castle beside her subject. "Eins...zwei...drei!"

"Käsekuchen!" Hippolyta said, flashing a toothy smile.

Snap.

"Got it," Circe said, lowering the camera. She smiled.

Fsshh.

She removed the photo and waved it around. "Now we just wait for it to develop."

"..."

Ends of her mouth still upturned, Hippolyta stared serenely at the Kolibri.

Staring off to the side, Circe kept waving the photo. Her eyes wandered back to the Storch, and she stopped. "...what?" she said, blinking.

Hippolyta chuckled quietly, still staring.

"What?" Circe said, chuckling. "What's so funny?"

"...sweet empress, you're beautiful," Hippolyta said, smiling.

Circe blushed. She looked down, then turned her eyes up. "You too."

"You're more beautiful," Hippolyta insisted.

"Am not!" Circe huffed, grinning. "You are!"

"As if," Hippolyta said, shutting her eyes.

"Hmph!" Circe puffed her cheeks, then looked down at the photo. "Oh! It's ready!"

The Kolibri carefully crawled across the bed of the boat, turned around, and sat on the Storch's lap. The two faced the same direction.

"Oh!" Hippolyta said, snorting. She smiled, lifting the oars and stowing them in the boat. She hugged the Kolibri. "Well, let's see it, then."

Circe nodded, head pitched back to regard the Storch. She raised the photo over her head. "See? You're beautiful!"

Hippolyta examined the photo, marveling at her smiling face. "Yeah, no argument there," she said. She pinched the Kolibri's cheek playfully. "I never said I wasn't beautiful..."

"Hey!" Circe cried, rubbing her cheek.

She froze, as Hippolyta rested her hand on the Kolibri's.

"...all I said was, you're more beautiful," Hippolyta said, smiling down at the diminutive replika. She leaned down and kissed Circe's forehead.

Circe blushed. "Heh heh..." she giggled, smiling.

"Hey," Hippolyta said, pointing to the camera. "How about we get a picture of both of us?"

"Yeah!" Circe cried, eyes lighting up. "Great idea!" She picked up the camera and lifted it up backwards. "Hold on," she said, leaning to rest the back of her head on Hippolyta's shoulder. "Ready?"

"Ready," Hippolyta said, hugging the Kolibri close. "On three..."

"...Eins..."

"...zwei..."

"Drei!"

The two replikas smiled. "Käsekuchen!" they said together.

Snap.

"Hah hah hah!" Circe giggled, hugging her stomach. She set the camera down, she was laughing so hard.

"Hah hah hah!" Hippolyta chuckled, mussing the Kolibri's hair.

The two were in another bout of hysterics. So raucous was their laughter, they lost balance and fell backward onto the front of the boat. Their heads resting on their bundles of luggage.

"Whoop!" Hippolyta cried, heaving. She reached over. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah!" Circe giggled, shutting her eyes.

"You better be!" Hippolyta said, shutting her own eyes and pulling the girl close.

Fsshh.

The camera spat the photo out on the boat floor, the image continuing to develop.

The two replikas opened their eyes, and realized their faces were mere inches apart. The laughter stopped.

"..." Circe breathed, face flushing with renewed color. "...Hip..."

"...yeah?" Hippolyta breathed, hand playing with the Kolibri's wild hair.

Circe gulped, then put her hands under her. She rolled on top of the Storch.

"...Circe..." Hippolyta breathed, looking up at the girl - the woman - silhouetted against the bright blue sky.

The Kolibri smiled warmly. "...I love you, Hip," she breathed, heart racing. "I love you so damn much."

A sharp intake of air. A lump in the Storch's throat.

"...I love you too, Circe," Hippolyta breathed, a giddy smile appearing on her face. Her face flushed, intolerably warm.

Straddling her lover, Circe lowered herself, and kissed Hippolyta. "...Hip..."

Hippolyta closed her eyes, and placed her hand on the back of Circe's head. "Circe..." she moaned, pulling her in for another kiss.

Their lips locked together. Eyes shut. Faces beet red. Hearts beating a mile a minute. Their hands clung around each other, for leverage. For intimacy. To just...feel each other's warm.

They kissed again, and again. Gasping for breath each time they separated, a grudging concession to damnable biological necessity. If they could, they'd lock lips and never stop until doomsday.

On the floor of the boat, the last photograph of the two of them silently developed. Capturing one perfect moment of bliss, for one perfect day.

 

"...grandma?"

Elster frowned. She looked over her shoulder.

"...can you...not call me that, sweetie?" she said. "It makes me seem..."

"Old?"

"..." Elster looked out at the darkness, thinking.

She wasn't that old...was she? Clearly, she couldn't call herself a Maiden. But she had a lot more Mothering to do, before she was upgraded to Crone.

Then again, her own daughters were building daughters of their own. Was she not, by nature of definition, a grandmother? A disturbing thought.

Almost as disturbing as the question of how old she would be when she finally won Ariane's freedom.

KLBR-N0604 rested her hands on her knees. Firelight reflected off her eyes.

"Sorry, Elster," she said, slouching on the fallen log that served as a bench. "That was out of line, right?"

Elster sighed, then turned around. As the night wind whistled through the trees and through her hair, she stepped over and took a seat beside her granddaughter.

"It's alright, Hecate," she said, smiling. "What did you want to ask?"

"...can I...see it?" Hecate said. The Kolibri looked sideways, then down. "The thing you made. The one we need to deposit?"

"..." The elder replika adjusted her green windbreaker, looking at the ground. A hand felt the lump in her belt pouch. "...I don't know..."

Hecate puffed her cheeks, staring at the ground. "...it's okay..."

Inhale. Exhale. "I suppose," Elster said, fishing at her belt. "But be careful. And don't let it give you any ideas. Circe told you how dangerous Chaos can be."

"I know," Hecate said, nodding soberly.

She removed the cloth bundle and held it out. Slowly, she unfolded the flaps, exposing the unwholesome symbol.

"Ngh," Hecate groaned, squinting and recoiling. "It burns..." she said, averting her gaze.

"Good," Elster said, nodding. "It means you know it's evil."

"Even though you made it?" Hecate said, peeking at it from behind the back of her hand.

"At his direction," Elster said, somberly. "Let it never be said I don't do evil in the world."

Warily, the junior replika stole furtive glances at the hateful symbol. "Why bring these to so many different sites across the planet?"

"Symbols have power," Elster said. "Because words have power. Names have power. And symbols - writing, pictographs, heraldry - have power. Because symbols are words that stay. They are thoughts, not only rendered discrete, but rendered tangible. Durable. They convey meaning, that can outlast the minds that wrought them. The Warp is built on meaning, metaphors, ideas, and feelings. To create a symbol is to capture a spiritual reality that exists in the Warp."

She narrowed her eyes, glaring ruefully at the plaster disk. "Daemons, being creatures of the Warp, have symbols as their stock in trade. As long as mortal beings have trucked with symbols - so long as they've ordered their thoughts into discrete forms, to so order the world around them - so too have Daemons bent them to their own purposes."

The Kolibri rubbed her hands together nervously. "...what does the symbol mean?"

Elster studied the unwholesome symbol. She prepared her words carefully. "...I..."

Beams of light erupted from the darkness, broken intermittently by trees. They passed over bark and low-hanging pine branches.

"Hey! We're back!"

"..." Elster hurriedly folded the cloth and tucked the bundle back into her belt. She looked over her shoulder. "Hey, Artemis! How did it go?"

Three replikas trudged in from the brush. Hooves snapping branches and crumbling leaflitter. Some bore submachine guns and rifles. One carried an unwieldy stack in her arms.

STCR-N0602 sighed, ducking under a pine branch, needles coming loose as she disturbed them. "Phoo!" Artemis grunted, blowing a needle off her nose. She shrugged. "Everything seems safe enough."

"That's good," Elster said, nodding.

"We got plenty of firewood," STAR-N0605 said, her shoulder-mounted flashlight casting light around wildly. She squatted by the fire and dropped her bundle of loose branches on the ground. "Hoo!" she said, sitting down on another log.

"Didn't shoot any animals, though," STAR-N0606 said, taking watch on the perimeter. Her long legs kicking up leaves and pine needles as she paced.

"We saw that big deer," said Star 05, raising a finger. "Ran away before we could aim, though."

"Is it really okay to be shooting random animals?" Hecate said, frowning. She hugged her oversized plaid jacket close around her, to keep out the chill. "Don't they have a right to live, too?"

"We could say the same about the rats on the ship," Artemis said, leaning against a pine. She crossed her arms. "The cats still get to hunt them as much as they like. It's the law of nature."

"The law of nature didn't account for people with automatic weapons," Hecate said, looking over her shoulder and frowning. "Doesn't seem fair."

"You wouldn't say that if you saw how huge that deer was," Artemis said, smirking. She tapped her temples. "Don't believe me? I'm picturing it in my head right now."

Hecate narrowed her eyes at the Storch, then widened them. "What?" she gawked.

"I know, right?" Artemis said, waving a hand.

"Are deer supposed to get that big?" Hecate said, bewildered. She looked at Elster. "Are they?"

"On Caliban, they do, apparently," Elster said, shrugging. She smiled, leaning over to fish through the cooler. "Anyone want anything?"

"I'll take a beer," Star 05 said, raising a hand.

Elster tossed a cold aluminum can, allowing the Star to catch it.

"Anyway," Elster said, taking up a can of iced tea, "we talked with the hunting board. Apparently, it's open season on those 'dire deer', all year round." Her thumb pressed down on the top of the can, allowing her finger to more easily slip under the tab.

Hsssss.

"Why do you think that is?" Star 06 said, looking over her shoulder at the campfire.

Elster sipped. "...who knows?"

"Ah!"

The others looked down at Hecate.

The Kolibri shivered, then looked toward the darkness fearfully. "Someone's coming," she said. "No, multiple people!"

"Who?" Elster said, rising to her hooves. She pulled her normal pistol from her belt. The local government was adamant about not taking las weapons into the woods, to prevent forest fires.

"I don't..." Hecate said, shivering. "...I can't..."

Combat replikas took cover, readying weapons. Artemis and Star 06 behind trees. Star 05, already low to the ground, rolled and went prone. Peeked her rifle over the log.

Elster stooped to one knee, hustling the Kolibri behind her while she aimed her pistol. "Steady, everyone," she said. "Wait until we know what we're dealing with."

They waited.

"..."

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Crunch. Snap. Stomp.

"...there's many of them..." Hecate clapped a hand over her mouth, shivering. "...they're almost h-here," she gasped.

Elster thumbed the hammer of her pistol back.

Crunch. Stomp. Crunch. Snap. Stomp.

The replika elder gulped. Eyes stared into the oppressive darkness beyond the firelight.

Stomp. Stomp. Snap.

"..."

Silence. The myriad, heavy footfalls stopped.

Teeth gritted, Elster scowled.

"You, out there!" she shouted. "Identify yourselves! We're armed!"

"..."

Her children were on edge. Jaws clenched. Hearts racing. Weapons ready.

Finally, a voice broke the silence.

"At ease, civilians. We mean you no harm."

One by one, the dark beyond the treeline was broken by a series of mounted flashlights that flared into life. A dozen lights, piercing the gloom.

Gulp. "Show yourselves!" Elster said.

Heavy footfalls trampled undergrowth and snapped branches. A dozen figures emerged into the warm glow of the fire.

"...eh?" Elster said, her pistol lowering fractionally.

"What the hell?" Artemis said, scowling. She aimed down the sights of her submachine gun.

"Do we open fire, Elster?" Star 05 said, also aiming.

"..." Elster lowered her pistol. "No. At ease."

The figures assembled at the periphery of the camp site. They were of different heights, but all towered over any normal gestalt. They bore bolters, bolt pistols, and ornate power swords.

"You couldn't hurt them," Elster said, "even if you tried."

A dozen figures in black power armor stood before them. Shoulder pads adorned with the symbol of the winged sword. The matte black surfaces broken up by occasional red and black checkerboard patterns.

The lead figure, a marine with a winged helmet, stepped forward. He stabbed the ground with his power sword, staring at Elster from behind green eye lenses.

"You shouldn't be here. It is dangerous. There are monsters about."

Chapter 56: The Knights of Caliban

"The tourism office didn't say anything about monsters."

Firewood crackled, casting warm glows and long shadows across the camp site.

A Tactical Squad of space marines in black power armor milled about on the periphery, bolters ready. Keeping watch on the darkness through lenses equipped with night vision instruments.

Of four overturned logs set around the fire, two were occupied by replikas. Elster and Hecate on one, the Stars on another. Artemis paced behind them, keeping an eye on the Astartes.

The other two logs were occupied by gestalts in antiquated, rudimentary power armor. With helmets removed, they revealed themselves to be older gentlemen. Their faces kept full of vitality by regimens of bio-engineering, but still manifestly aged. Deep lines, scars, and pockmarks. The clear eldest of the three sported gray hair and beard, and a black eyepatch stitched with the red symbol of a boar's head.

Stood between the elder knights was the Astartes squad sergeant, helmet with white wings tucked under his arm. His face was more youthful, though no less stoic in character than the grizzled veterans sat aside him.

"I can assure you, my lady," Sergeant David said, "this forest is normally quite safe."

"I take your word as true, Herr Ritter," Elster nodded, hugging the Kolibri to her side. "I'm just concerned for my family's safety. I'm told Caliban was once home to vicious bestian, that bedeviled its people. Is this still the case?"

"Not for lack of trying on the Order's part, ma'am," said the Sergeant. He stroked his chin, covered in a dark stubble. "Thanks to the Lion and Sir Luther, our humble world is far safer from Great Beasts than it once was."

"...though some think we could have been less thorough," muttered the gray-haired gestalt, stroking his beard.

"Careful now, my friend," said one of the gestalt veterans, eyeing his elder compatriot. He smiled. "You know how dangerous that talk can be."

"Yes," said the other veteran, tapping his helmet sat in his lap, "we wouldn't want what happened to the Order of the Lupine to happen again."

"Bah!" said the elder, waving a hand dismissively. "The Lion's not here. And I'm not harboring beasts in my back yard, in any case." He scowled. "Besides, I'm old. I'm not afraid to say what we're all thinking: Caliban isn't the same without the Great Beasts."

"Aye, tis true," said one of his junior knights. "It's very different now."

"I should think fewer people being attacked by bestian is a good thing, ja?" Elster said, eyeing the old men. "Or am I mistaken?"

"Oh, certainly, tis a very good thing," said a knight, nodding. "The knightly orders of Caliban fought for centuries to bring the people peace and safety from the Great Beasts."

"But know, young lady," said the elder knight, wagging his finger, "the Great Beasts made Caliban what it was. There's too much of a good thing, I think. Even monster-slaying."

Artemis scoffed, crossing her arms. "How do you figure that?"

"Oh, certainly," the old man said, rubbing his hands together, "having them not attack innocent folk is a fine thing. And some of those horrors...simply needed killing. You'll have no argument from me. But there's something...lost, when you take them all away. All the monsters. They were vicious, hungry, and deadly, yes. But they were True. All nature's honest savagery, all her power, made manifest. And we humans sharpened ourselves against them, with each hunt." He rubbed his lips thoughtfully. "Elation, glory, rage, sorrow...the Great Beasts teased out our dearest emotions."

"We'll...take your word for it, Herr Ritter," Elster said, nodding.

The old man frowned, then smiled. "Oh...you lot have the look of warriors about you," he said, waving a hand. He looked away. "You'll understand, one day. When you're old, those thoughts will return. Hearts grown heavy with...nostalgia."

"..." Hecate eyed the old man curiously.

"Well, there's more...practical reasons to keep what Beasts remain around," David said, nodding. He turned his head, eyeing the darkness beyond the trees. "You've no doubt seen the giant deer, bounding about? If not the beasts themselves, then their tracks or...leavings."

Star 05's eyes lit up. "We did, actually," she said.

"Yeah," said Star 06, "though it got away before we could fire on it." She shrank in on herself. "Or...should we not have?"

"No, no, you were right to attempt it," David said, shaking his head. "They're in-season year-round for a reason. The herbivores of Caliban are adapted to the Caliban that was. Grown colossal and fierce, to contend with colossal and fierce predators."

Elster's eyes lit up. She inclined her head back, fractionally. "Ah, Ich verstehe," she said. "I understand. With the old predators gone, there's nothing to keep the prey in check."

"Precisely, my lady," David said, nodding. "Used to be, the Great Beasts would hunt the herds as much as the humans. They were only a problem, because the humans were weaker and slower. Properly defended with walls and knights, and the Great Beasts oft left us be. With them gone, the Dire Deer and Great Elk, and all manner of other creatures, are proliferating unchecked. If the march of industry doesn't destroy the wilderness, the hungry animals will. Residents are encouraged to hunt them at will, simply to stem the tide."

"Half of what these young knights do these days is thin the herds," said one of the gestalt knights, pointing to the marines keeping watch. He lowered his voice. "It's not like the Lion has called upon them to join the Crusade, anymore."

"...I think that's the storms," Star 05 mumbled.

"And the civil war," muttered Star 06.

"..." Elster stared at the Stars, in an expression that bid silence.

The old man shook his head. "Hunting the prey just isn't the same. The young bucks here learn nothing, of fighting monsters or men, from running the deer down in landspeeders and filling their guts with bolter rounds. There's no sport, much less honor, in that. Not like the old days, when we would gallop on horses and run them down with javelins. At least then, simple hunts had a challenge."

"Aye, tis more a labor than a privilege, to cull the herds," David said, shaking his head. "With the Warp ways closed, even fully grown Astartes here are unblooded in real combat." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "...what is the Lion thinking...?"

"Couldn't you introduce new predators?" Artemis said, stretching her arms over her head. "Ngh. Ones less deadly to ges...to humans?"

"We tried," David sighed. "Before the warp storms started, we shipped all manner of predator species in from other worlds. Wolves, mountain lions, tigers, bears..."

"Oh my," Hecate mumbled, frowning.

"...but unfortunately, they're struggling to adapt," the Sergeant continued. "Like I said, the prey of Caliban are adapted to fight off or outrun truly mighty beasts. Mere wolves can scarcely catch a Dire Deer, let alone bring one down. We keep finding the poor things, starved or beaten to death. Some even attack villagers in desperation, necessitating we put them down."

"Poor things," Hecate said, pressing a thumb to her lips.

Elster rubbed the Kolibri's shoulder.

"And after that Order of the Lupine fiasco," said one of the knights, "no one dares float the idea of breeding bigger predators, to replace the old ones."

"..."

The replika commander eyed each man in turn.

Finally, she said, "So...if you'd rather keep the old bestien around...why are you all out here? What's the danger you warned us about?"

The knights sat uneasily, rocking in place or folding their arms or tapping their helmets restlessly.

David broke the silence. "If it were merely a matter of a 'normal' Great Beast, we wouldn't be out here," he admitted, nodding. "Most of those left alive have retreated far into the wilderness, to lick their wounds and breed, if mates they can find. But not all the old monsters are just hungry. Not all just ferocious or man-hating, either. Some seem...positively cruel. There's been, of late...great trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Trouble we aim to put a stop to, tonight," David said, resolutely. "No more villagers wandering away in the night, to be found dead in the morning, only half eaten. Like they were played with..." The marine went silent, staring at the ground beneath his feet. Jaw set.

"We should have done it long ago," said one of the knights, crossing his arms. "It's cowardly and foolish, we let that one be so long."

"Better, braver knights than us have tried," said another, looking sideways at his companion. "They tried and paid the ultimate price." He bowed his head, in silent reverence for the fallen.

"It's the prophecy, it is," the old knight said, closing his eyes and nodding sagely. "'Only one born twice can slay the three-eyed beast'."

The other replikas turned to Elster, eyeing her silently.

"..." The replika commander didn't need them to speak. She already had the same thought.

"That's an old wives tale," said one of the gestalt knights. "It's just a trickier beast, is all."

David raised his helmet, and stared over the top of it. "If anyone can meet the prophecy, it is we who were reborn in the Astartes creation rites," he said. He shook his head. "If any event, if an entire squad of legionaries, and three experienced knights of the Order, cannot best this loathsome creature, none but the Emperor himself could."

David furrowed his brow.

"One way or another, it ends tonight."

 

"So...should we follow them?"

Elster tossed another branch into the fire, then used a stick to stoke the ashes.

"..." She galnced out into the darkness, where the monster-hunters departed. Eyed their colossal footprints in the moist earth disappear into the brush. She looked down to the fire again. "...it's not our fight."

Artemis crossed her arms. "You heard those guys," she said, frowning. "There was a prophecy and everything."

"If anyone constitutes having been 'born twice'," said Star 06, "it's probably use replikas. Right?"

"That's just a story," Elster said, sitting back down on the log. "It's something villagers tell themselves, to explain why their menfolk all died fighting a monster. If they're waiting for a hero of prophesy to come save them, it absolves them of responsibility to save themselves."

"Aren't we shirking responsibility, by not getting involved?" Star 05 said, rolling out her bedroll by the fire.

"We're just visitors, 05," Elster said, watching smoke rise from the end of her stoking stick. "Those are the Knights of Caliban. It's their responsibility to deal with monsters. They know what they're doing."

"They don't, though."

Elster lifted her head. "..."

Hecate sat on the ground against a log, facing away from the fire. Towards where the knights departed. Hugged her legs to her chest. "...they have no idea what they're up against."

"...what were they thinking?" Elster said.

"...the old man is afraid," Hecate said, staring into the darkness. "Not of dying, though. I think...I think he actually wants to die fighting a monster."

"Really?" Artemis said, cocking an eyebrow. "What the hell?"

"Why would he want to die?" Star 06 said, pacing the ground.

"..." Elster stared at the dark, impassively. "...he's an old warrior. A monster-slayer. He's invested every fiber of his being into that identity. To wither and die in his bed, even if it's centuries from now due to Imperial science, would seem like agony to someone like that. A betrayal of his purpose, and...just a sad fate."

"So, he doesn't want to live like he's a useless old man, huh?" Artemis said, arms crossed. "Tch. I guess he's got some balls."

"He's afraid of dying unfulfilled?" Star 05 said, laying down on her bedroll. Head propped up on her arm.

"...he is," Hecate said. "...the others are afraid of what might happen if the three-eyed beast is left to roam free. Of who might..." She paused, squinting. "...of who might be 'called' next."

Elster frowned. "...called?"

Bam-am. Bam bam bam-am.

The replikas flinched. Weapons fire echoed on the wind. Birds scattered into the air, cawing frantically.

"What was that?" Star 06 said, raising her weapon.

"...bolter fire," Elster said, her heart racing. She rose to her hooves, tentatively.

Bam-am. Bam bam-am.

Hecate shivered. Eyes wide. "...they're...afraid..."

"Do you know of what?" Artemis said, running to pick up her submachinegun.

"...just...afraid..." Hecate said. She shook her head. "It's too far, I can't..."

Elster walked over and placed a hand on the Kolibri's shoulder. "It's alright," she said, looking down.

Bam bam-am. Bam bam bam-am. Bam-am.

"What do we do, Elster?" Star 05 said, out of her bedroll and checking the ammo on her rifle.

"They might need our help," said Star 06.

Bam-am. Bam bam bam-am.

"..." The replika commander squinted at the dark.

For a moment, the night was deathly quiet. Even the birds, insects, and burrowing things fell silent. Only their breathing and heartbeats disturbed the stillness.

"...they have a squad of Astartes," Elster said, closing her eyes. "There's little we could contribute, beyond what they could accomplish themselves. We'd just get in the way."

Bam bam-am. Bam bam bam-am. Bam-am.

"..."

Bam-am.

"Aaaaagh!"

The replikas flinched, as a scream echoed through the trees.

"What was that?" Star 05 said, hefting her rifle.

Bam bam bam bam bam-am. Bam-am. Bam bam bam-am.

"Ngh!"

"..."

"Argh!"

Bam-am. Bam-am. Bam-am.

"..."

Bam-am.

"..."

Replikas held their breaths, waiting.

Hecate hugged herself. "...fear...rage...oh empress..."

Artemis walked forward and clapped a hand on Elster's shoulder. "If those guys get taken out, we might be next," she said, somberly. "We should back them up - or what's left of them - before it's too late."

Star 06 walked around the log. "She's right," she said, fishing her night vision goggles out of her bag. "If the monster is still out there, we need all the help we can get."

"What do we do, Elster?" Star 05 said.

"..."

Elster stared at the dirt. Gulped.

She clenched her fist.

Götterdämmerung.

 

"...he...he's dead."

Clouds parted, bathing the forest floor in cool moonlight. Not that it made seeing more than a couple meters ahead any easier. The fog rolling downhill through the trees made sure of that.

Hecate covered her mouth, cringing. "Oh empress," she breathed, trembling. Eyes locked on the ground in front of her.

Star 05 removed her fingers from the knight's neck. "His skin's still warm," she said, raising her night-vision goggles. "It wasn't too long ago."

"How did it happen?" Artemis said, glancing sideways. Submachinegun pointed at the darkness ahead.

Elster squatted, helping the Star roll the poor man over. "...wait..." she said, eyes widening.

"What the hell?" Star 05 said, staring.

"What is it?" Star 06 said, watching their flank.

"Can't be," said Star 05, shaking her head.

"Why would they...?" Hecate breathed, taking a step back. "It had to be an accident, right?"

"How did the guy die!?" Artemis snapped, scowling sideways.

"...it was a bolter," Elster muttered, pressing fingers to her lips.

The baseline gestalt knights wore an older, more primitive pattern of power armor. Relics of Caliban's lonesome past, before the Imperium came. Hardly peer to space marine ceramite, but which gave a crucial edge when hunting monsters.

A bolter round burst open the chestplate like it was paper, along with the poor man's ribcage. By the cool moonlight, the ground beneath the gestalt was bathed crimson. Gaping hole wept warm blood and belched smoke. Wet crimson glinted in rivulets from his mouth. Eyes stared unblinking in horror.

"...no fucking way," Artemis said, tearing her eyes away to look ahead.

Bam-am. Bam bam-am.

"Hit the deck!" Star 06 said, ducking.

The group sank low, pointing their weapons out at the fog-filled darkness. Only the suggestion of trees broke the blurry expanse ahead of them.

"..."

Hecate whimpered, spread prone on the ground. She raised her head. "...is...is it s-safe?"

"Can't see shit through this pea soup," Artemis grumbled, rising from a low crouch. She raised her night-vision goggles. "What do we do now?"

"..." Elster peeked from behind the fallen knight's body, then glanced down. Checked the two shells loaded in her rifle, then snapped it shut. Her eyes drifted across the dead gestalt, then to the ground beside him. "Hmm?"

She crawled slowly over him, and reached a hand out.

"What's the matter?" Star 05 said, looking over her shoulder from where she crouched. "Eh?"

Elster picked up a weapon from where the man dropped it.

The man had a holster for a bolt pistol on his belt. She noticed him checking it back at camp. But it was so dark, she doubted she could find it where it fell from his hand. A shame, given what they might be up against.

His Power Sword, however, glinted invitingly in the moonlight. She held it aloft in her hand, admiring its expert craftsmanship. "..."

"..." Star 05 gawked, then grinned. She turned back to the darkness. "Nice."

The replika commander reached down, closing the man's eyes. Then, removed the scabbard from his belt and attached it to her own. "I'll give it back to them later," she whispered, sheathing the sword.

Bam-am. Bam bam bam-am.

"Fuck," Artemis grunted, ducking her head just in case. "Are they going to run out of ammo or what?"

"Ngh," Hecate groaned, clutching her head.

"What's wrong?" Elster said, helping the Kolibri to her hooves. "What do you sense?"

"I...I can't..." the Kolibri breathed, grimacing. She shook her head, eyes shut. "It's...too much..."

"Block it out, Hec," Elster said, rubbing the girl's back. "Put up a wall. You can do it."

"ARGH!"

The replikas flinched, looking out at the fog and darkness. The man's voice echoed across the chilly hills.

"Ngh," Elster grunted, standing. "Hecate, pull out your gun."

"O-okay..." Hecate nodded painfully, then pulled the pistol from her belt. It shook violently in her hands.

"We need to move," Elster said, "before this fog gets any thicker."

Or, she thought, the numbers of the Dark Angels get any thinner.

"Alright," Artemis said, motioning the others to follow. "Let's go."

"Stay low," Elster whispered, as the group stalked forward. "We don't want them shooting us by mistake."

As they moved uphill, toward the gunfire and screams, the fog rolled in. Pooled around them. Night-vision goggles were scarcely of any use, with the moon so bright and the air so thick.

"Hsss," Elster hissed, pressing a hand against her head. It throbbed. She heard, or perhaps felt, a buzzing sound. A part of her felt a pall of dread, that formed a pit in her stomach.

But she couldn't stop. She needed to move forward. Had to ascend.

After all, she had to keep her pro-

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

Lights peeked out from the gloom. Bobbed up and down. Rapidly approaching.

"Rragh!"

"Scheisse!" Artemis cried, jumping to the side.

Two giants emerged from the fog, growling and trampling leaf-litter as they went.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, eyes widening. "Move!" she shouted.

Replikas yelled incoherently, diving in all directions as the Astartes barreled amongst them.

One legionary chased the other. The former tackled the latter, and the two rolled together. Bodies slipped, crushing grass and bushes as they tumbled.

"Shit!" one of the Stars cried, crawling away in panic. "Fuck!"

One marine pushed the other off, and they quickly rose to their feet. Blades glinted in the moonlight. Through green helmet lenses, the giants eyed each other.

With almost simultaneous action, the transhuman knights thumbed their power swords to life, bathing the ground, trees, and fog in blue light.

No words were exchanged. No quarter given, nor expected. Two giants lunged at one another, swords leaving wide sapphire streaks in the air as they swung.

Clang!

Coruscating energy fields clashed, sparking against each other. Black armor lit a dark blue. Helmets hid snarling faces as the two growled and seethed. Growing perilously close together, before pushing away. Heavy footfalls shattered fallen branches and kicked up mud.

"Ah!" Hecate screamed, scrambling away. Her pistol slipped from her grasp, forgotten and abandoned.

"N-no!" Elster cried, forcing herself to her hooves and extended a hand to the retreating Kolibri. "Stay together! Don't-"

Stomp, stomp.

She dove back in alarm, almost bowled over by a marine that gave ground to his adversary.

"Scheisse!" Elster screamed, rolling to the side as a lit power sword sailed over her head in a backswing.

Her eyes darted around, seeing the Kolibri disappear into the gloom. "No..." she breathed, falling backward. "Hecate!"

A power armored boot crashed to the mud in front of her. She crab-walked backwards a meter, gritting her teeth. Finally, she looked up.

Her heart skipped a beat. She could no longer distinguish the buzzing in her head from the beating of her heart. Or the apocalyptic dread in the back of her mind, from the panic memories bubbling up to the surface.

The marine towering above her turned his pauldron to her, exposing the silver emblem of the Iron Hands. Helmet turned to regard her contemptuously from behind an augmetic eye.

"..." Elster gaped, going pale. Automatically, she raised her rifle and pointed it at him.

BANG. BANG.

High penetration rounds embedded themselves into ceramite, creating cavitation bubbles that marred the black surface.

Click. Click. Click.

She dry fired the rifle, teeth clenched, until the marine's glowing sword rose high.

Shit! she thought, snapping out of her terrified reverie. She rolled over and scrambled on hands and hooves. Pulling herself forward by digging into moist soil and tree roots. Somewhere in this, she lost purchase of her rifle. The end of the barrel bounced off a root, jutting momentarily up.

Shing. Shing.

An energized blade gouged into the ground mere inches from her hooves. With a second stroke, it cleaved her rifle in twain, two pieces clattering uselessly to the mud.

"Ah!" Elster cried, rising painfully up and stumbling away.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Hearing his previous dance partner, the marine turned and swung his sword.

Clang.

The two crazed Astartes clashed again, blades flashing in the dark and the fog.

Shit, fuck, shit! Elster thought, looking over her shoulder fearfully. She stumbled and fell twice, tripping over roots in her panicked flight. Fuck!

She rolled over a jutting tree root, grimacing as it dug into her back. A gnarled bump grinding into a pressure point. Pain shot up her spine.

"Hsss," she grunted, arching her back, "argh!" She rolled onto her stomach and clawed at the bark of a nearby tree. Scratching until she found a branch and pulled herself up. Her back muscles spasmed. "Ngh..."

Elster took one last look over her shoulder, panting. Watched the interplay of blue lights dancing together in the fog. Heard the pounding of ceramite-shod feet against the ground. Almost as loud as the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Slowly, the lights faded. The combatants taking their battle further into the gloom.

"..." She gasped, clutching her chest. Feeling around, she realized with terror she lost her main weapon. Hand groped automatically to her belt, unholstering a pistol. "C-come on," she muttered, shakily checking her ammo by the halflight of the moon. Slid the magazine back in and pulled back the slide.

Snap.

She froze.

Step, step, step.

"..." Elster frantically pressed her aching back against the tree, and crouched low. Pointed her pistol to the sky.

Step. Step, step. Snap.

"Ngh. Haah..."

"..." Elster clapped a hand over her mouth. Dared not breath, though her chest begged for oxygen. Racing heartbeat almost deafening.

Step. Step. Klnk.

"Hah...hah..."

Spots started to form in the corner of her eyes. She couldn't hold her breath forever. She needed to check. She had to at least know.

Trembling like a leaf, Elster slowly leaned out from behind the tree, and looked over her shoulder.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"...ngh...hah..."

Absurdly tall. Twitching and shuffling. Body covered in gore.

Corrupted flesh bulged from cracked polyethylene. Hooves dragged painfully across the ground in great strides.

Face obscured by a filthy, stained shroud.

Elster's memory screamed at her.

She was back there. Back in that hell, corrupted by...that thing. That infection. That...being's influence.

"..." Her body shivered violently. She had to breath. She couldn't breath. She dared not breath. She was back there.

She looked down its body, and nearly choked.

There was nowhere to hide this time. No furniture to obscure sightlines, no doors to run through. Elster was out in the open. Exposed. The corrupted STAR would find her.

And this time, it had a submachinegun.

 

Somewhere nearby, hiding in the fog, the beast purred in delight.

Chapter 57: Silence on the Hill

GASP.

The corrupted STAR's shrouded head snapped toward the tree behind it. Raised its submachinegun.

"Ngh?" it grunted. "Aaaak-k-k-k..." it moaned, a staccato clicking from the back of the throat.

Step. Step. Step.

The SMG wavered in its grip, as it took ragged, shallow breaths. Slowly, cautiously, but with long strides, the deformed replika peeked around the trunk of the tree.

"...hah..." it breathed, obscured eyes witnessing empty space. Tension in shoulders relaxed.

A single leaf tumbled up a foot, then settled on the moist ground.

"...ngh?" the replika grunted, looking at the leaf as it blended into the forest litter.

Click.

The STAR staggered forward on instinct, whirling around to see Elster pointing a pistol at her head. "Ack!"

POP.

Ping!

"Screee!" the corrupted replika screeched, as the bullet ricocheted off its high collar. Hooves nearly tripped on tree roots, as it stumbled away.

Elster gritted her teeth, pulse pounding in time with the buzzing in her head. She tightened her grip, exhaling. Laser sight working in time with her digital targeting retical, to aim another shot.

Shaking like a leaf, the STAR raised its submachinegun.

POP. POP.

One bullet struck the creature's weapon, another embedded in its left forearm. "Screeee!" it exclaimed, shaking.

Scheisse! Elster didn't have time to register the creature's pained reaction, before her heart skipped a beat. No!

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

She dove behind the tree, as the SMG barked. Leaf-litter and bark torn up by errant shots.

"Reee!" the creature whined, shakily pointing its weapon at the tree.

Panting, Elster pressed her back to the trunk, holding her pistol toward the sky with both hands. "...shit..." she breathed, eyes frantically looking around.

Her ears picked up the sound of the creature...stepping away. Breathing heavily.

"...ack...ngh..." it whined.

Click, clack. The sound of a magazine removed.

Now, she thought, dashing into the fog. Used the poor visibility to her advantage.

"Ah!" the creature cried, watching her running through the gloom.

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Elster saw the corrupted STAR fumble the magazine in its hand. Before she ducked behind another, further tree, she saw it...panic.

"...what?" she breathed, taking cover. Leaning around the other side of the tree, she caught sight of the creature doing something...strange.

In the gloom, she saw it whip its head around frantically, clutching its injured forearm. Then...retreated.

"..." Elster gulped, staring at the silhouette as it disappeared into the fog. That...can't be right...

Corrupted replikas did not retreat. Corrupted replikas did not run away. Corrupted replikas did not display signs of...feeling pain. Nor fear.

Something was different. Something was wrong.

"Ngh," she grunted. Pressed a hand to her face. Buzzing grew worse, heaping on a throbbing pain. She stared at the ground, bewildered. What's...going on? she thought, breathing hard. What was I...?

She shook her head, snapping to attention. No time, she chided herself. So much to do, so little time to... She paused, staring at the moist earth.

No. Really. What was she doing? How did she...get here?

Automatically, she removed the magazine from her pistol and checked the ammo. Patted her belt, seeking a spare. Fingers felt fabric. She looked down, rolling the unfamiliar, baggy apparel between her fingers. The replika was wearing a dull green jacket and gray polo shirt, stretched over her LSTR pattern chest armor. Utility belt fastened around a pair of long, brown trousers.

"...eh?" Elster said, wide-eyed. Confused. When had she acquired...?

Another round of head throbbing. She shook her head, then look around the tree again. She had to move.

I have to find her, Elster thought, dashing into the fog. I have to fulfill my promise. Ariane...is waiting for me...

 

Bang.

Wood splintered over the Storch's head, as she ducked under a rifle shot discharged through the fog.

"Son of a-!" she grunted, running uphill. She turned, raising her submachinegun. "Fuck off!"

RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT.

Ding.

"Hah!" cried an unnaturally deep voice, as the shadowy figure leaped back. It took cover behind a barely visible tree. Shadowy hand clutched its chest, where a round ricocheted off an unseen armor plate.

"Ngh!" Artemis kept running, before sighting a bulbous shape on the ground ahead of her. Gritting her teeth, she made a break for it. The hard material was slick with something warm, as she pressed a hand down on it and hopped over. She turned, aiming.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

The shadowy figure behind the tree flinched, pressing close as bullets peeled bark from the trunk. It scrambled at its belt, frantically trying to reload its rifle.

"Mrrgh!"

Artemis's eyes snapped down. Heart skipped a beat. "Shit!" she cried, stumbling back as her cover roared to life.

"Naaagh!" growled the wounded giant, huge hand reaching out to grasp at the replika.

"Fuck! No!" Artemis cried, going pale. She fell on her ass, then shuffled away as the hulking mass pushed itself over on what remained of an arm. The other swiping at the air as it flopped.

Its skull-faced helmet stared at her, eyes alight with burning embers of a most heinous crimson. "Nnnragh!"

"F-fuck off!" she cried, kicking the hand once with a hoof. She scrambled up and turned her submachinegun on it.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT.

Rounds bounced harmlessly off the giant's dark armor, as it dragged itself, inch by inch, toward her.

"F-f-f-fuuuuck!" Artemis screamed, turning tail and running.

BANG.

"Ah!" she cried, as she felt her ankle take a hit from an armor-piercing round. Balance lost. "Nagh!"

She rolled on the ground, hissing. Looking frantically over, she started crawling. "F-fuck! Fuck-k-k!" the Storch grunted, grimacing in pain. SMG dragging on the ground as it hung from her shoulder.

BANG.

"Ngh!" the giant grunted, probing hand taking a hit from a round that managed to pierce a less armored elbow joint. It flailed angrily, banging loudly on the moist earth with arms and legs. Like a massive infant, throwing a tantrum. A huge hole in its side wept blood.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

"Ngh!" the shadow creature behind the tree cried, as another hail of bullets struck its cover from the flank. It abandoned the tree at once, running out into the fog.

From the direction of fire, another shadow ran into view, carrying an SMG. It continued pursuit, head jerking in either direction. Confused, it also disappeared into the gloom.

"Hah...hah..." Artemis panted, looking around. She forced herself to her hooves, wincing as she put weight on one of them. "Ngh...fuck..." She limped on, taking hold of her SMG again.

"..."

Wheezing, she looked over her shoulder, and gasped.

Another shadow, following after. It paused only long enough to eye the writhing giant, then kept jogging. It had eyes on the Storch.

"Ngh!" Artemis grunted, turning around and raising her SMG.

RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT.

The shadow dove behind a tree, its cover splintering under the assault. Then, in the lull between bursts, it ran again, darting into the fog.

RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT.

"Sh-shit!" Artemis breathed, turning around. Eyes screwed shut, as she limped as quickly as her shattered ankle could bear. "Ngh!" she whimpered, shaking her head.

Had to get away. Had to get away. Had to find...to find...

Who was she searching for? Where was she supposed to go?

A deep-seated, familiar dread settled into her bones. A childlike terror. She wasn't a tall, fearsome warrior. She was a little girl. A terrified little girl, running from...

Snap.

Artemis jerked her head to the side, looked over her shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat.

She saw him. HIM. He was coming for her. He was coming to punish her.

"HAAAGH!" she shrieked, tripping over her own hooves. "Ngh!" she cried, banging her injured ankle on a tree branch. She fell to the ground. Rolled over.

He was coming. She could see him.

"Nah!" she grunted, the strap around her shoulder digging awkwardly into her neck. She rolled again, pulling the strap off and holding the SMG in her hands. She crawled, then clawed at a tree to sit up on her knees.

POP.

Bark shattered off the trunk, merely inches from her hand. "Ah!" she cried, spinning around on her knees. She raised her weapon, though in her heart she knew it was useless.

Nothing she ever did could make him stop.

POP. POP.

One bullet pinged off her armored collar. Another grazed her cheek, gouging into her soft flesh. "AH!" she gasped, clapping one hand on her face. Wild-eyed, she aimed with one hand. "N-n-no! Get away!"

RT-RT-R-

Her assailant discarded his pistol and snatched a fallen branch from the ground. He swung, knocking the barking SMG from her grasp. It clattered noisily to the earth a few meters away.

He raised a leg and kicked her in the armored chest. Sent her sprawling.

"Nagh!" she cried, falling on her back. Her hand groped frantically at her belt, but to no avail. Her heart sank. Memories, unbidden, bubbled up from deep within. That familiar, learned helplessness. "Hhhhaaagh!" she whined, throwing hands up in front of her.

She knew what came next. She always knew what came next.

He straddled her torso, grabbing her wrist with one hand and forcing it to the ground by her head.

She couldn't remember his face. He looked like a shadow, even now. But she could never forget those cold, blank eyes. The eyes he would regard her with, as he "punished her".

He raised the branch high, preparing to bring it down on her head.

"DADDY NO!" she shrieked, shutting her eyes and throwing her one free hand in front of her.

"..."

Sniffing, shaking like a leaf, Artemis cracked her eyes open and looked up. Peeked behind her arm.

The figure stared down at her. Eyes no longer blank. But surprised. Confused. He didn't move. Branch poised high.

"...p-please, daddy," Artemis whimpered, tears rolling down her face. "P-please...don't...I'll b-be g-good, I pro-promise! J-just don't..."

The shadow's eyes regarded her now with horror. He...no, she scrambled off Artemis, dropping the branch. Threw up his...its...her hands.

"N-no!" the shadow stammered, in an unnaturally deep voice. There was a look of pain in her eyes.

Artemis, realizing a beating was no longer forthcoming, curled up into a ball and cried. "Haah!" she wheezed, arms covering her head.

"Artemis...?" the shadow said, basal and breathy. "Sweetie...I'm...I'm sor-"

"AAAAARGH!"

A scream pierced the air, causing both figures to flinch.

The shadow, looking out in the fog, panicked. "...no..."

She looked down at the sobbing Storch with pain, then bent down to snatch up her pistol. She ran towards the noise.

Behind her, a lithe figure purred, three lights shining in the gloom.

It swaggered quietly over, briefly eyeing the weeping replika. Claws extended from their fleshy sheaths. It licked its lips. Debated finishing its prey, while it had her at its mercy.

Instead, it retracted its claws, and turned away.

The little bird was broken. She would keep. A toy to play with properly, later, when the excitement died down.

The feline horror couldn't afford to miss the show unfolding in the distance. It bounded across the forest, untroubled by the fog of its own making.

 

STIRB.

Static and digital artifacts filled the air, tearing at the fog as Elster drew closer.

She leaned against a tree trunk, clutching her head. Eyes widened, taking in the gloom-shrouded scene.

"Gaaah!" a corrupted STAR cried, sprawled on the ground. Rifle discarded by its side.

Another corrupted STAR clutched its head, rolling on the ground. Hissing, clawing at its clothes. Submachinegun flopping from a strap on its neck. Wounded arm splayed out at its side, fingers twitching.

Elster smacked her head once, twice. Squinted between splayed fingers.

No. Stop. They weren't corrupted. It was a trick. They were Stars 05 and 06. They were her children, and they were in pain.

Elster gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus. A new form of buzzing filled her head. One far more familiar. She made herself look.

GEH WEG.

Four corrupted...

No. Not corrupted. Elster smacked her forehead angrily again. Focus!

Four dimunitive figures sat on the ground in the center of a clearing. They appeared like those corrupted KLBR units, from back on Sierpinkski. Knelt on the ground. Bloated, fleshy cabbage heads. Rocking rapidly back and forth.

It was difficult to even look at it...HER. It was difficult to look at HER. The artifacting, the buzzing, the stream of data projected into her mind. Mixing the mental with the digital, in a way a Kolibri only could. Elster's head throbbed. The malign mental assault was excruciating.

ÄNGSTLICH. VERLOREN. ALLEIN.

Elster staggered forward, the stabbing pain in her head mounting with each step. Seeking something, anything to focus on instead of the erratically twitching meat cabbages, her eyes wandered.

On the other side of the KLBRs, a wounded, fallen giant lay on the ground. Helmet removed, he had the face of that man. Captain Kurl. But instead of spitting hate, he foamed at the mouth. The Iron Warriors's body twitched, eye rolled back. An Astartes power sword lay abandoned at his side, along with his helmet.

STIRB.

The replika commander stumbled, struggling to remain standing. Legs were weak. She couldn't...think straight.

Eyes wandering again, she could have sworn she saw a large, feline silhouette watching her in the gloom. Three pinpricks of blue light shown from its face. But she blinked, and the figure disappeared.

BITTE HOR AUF.

Gritting her teeth, Elster forced herself back on task. Looked at the twitching...things before her.

Hand unholstered her pistol. Digital interface cycled to her radio module. Began tuning.

STIRB.

The STARs behind her screeched and writhed. One of them pounded the mud with clenched fists.

There...you are..., Elster thought, finding the correct frequency. Targeting retical zeroed in on the second figure from the right.

She raised her pistol.

GEH WEG.

Elster panted, screwing her watery eyes shut. Rubbed them, then looked again. Her pistol vibrated in her hand.

WO BIN ICH?

She steadied the pistol with both hands. Shut one eye. Laser sight lowered to center of mass. Digital targeting square shrinking.

STIRB. STIRB STIRB STIRB.

Just...another obstacle, Elster thought, chest heaving. Sweat poured down her face. Just another corrupted body. Getting in my way. Getting in the way of meeting Ariane. Getting in the way of my Promise.

She placed her index finger on the trigger, pressure mounting.

Just...one more shot, she thought, allowing the mental malaise to wash over her, and I can...

MUTTER. HILF MIR.

Elster gasped, flinching. Eyes widened.

CIRCE. ISIS. SHAHRAZAD. ELSTER. IRGENDJEMAND. RETTE MICH.

The pistol dropped to the moist earth.

"...H-HECATE!" Elster cried, running forward. Heart racing, a sickening feeling in her gut. Arms forward. "NGH!"

She shut her eyes, as the artifacts and visual glitches grew thicker. The buzzing in her head louder, sharper, more painful. With each step, more intense.

"..." Elster didn't stop. She gritted her teeth, and drove on. Even as oxident ran from her nose, and the pounding in her head became overwhelming.

"Aaaaaaah!" she cried, sinking to her knees and throwing her arms around the twitching creature. "HECATE! STOP!"

In the physical world, she felt the tiny replika's frame pressed against her own. Flinching, shivering, frail arms pushing weakly away in alarm.

On the mental plane, it was like hugging a tornado. She reached an astral hand out to her, probing. Seeking. It felt like jamming her hand into a bush of thorns, to caress the rose beyond.

"Hecate!" Elster shouted, tears of pain and oxident rolling down her face. She hugged the struggling girl, not letting her go. Stroking the back of her head. "Hecate! I'm here! Grandma's here! It's okay!"

Finally, blessedly, her mental fingers touched something warm. In surprise, a hand - already flailing about for someone to answer - took hers.

The Kolibri gasped. Elster!?

"It's alright, baby," Elster breathed, shutting her eyes against the onslaught of digital artifacts. This close, she was blind anyway. "I'm here! Whatever it's showing you, it's not real! You're safe! I'm here! Please!"

Slowly, the psychic tempest subsided. The flood of digital noise dimmed, fading from her sight. The roar of the storm calmed.

Tiny arms hugged Elster back. Hecate sobbed. "...hah...Elster...I couldn't..."

"Shh, shh," Elster breathed, fingers threading through messy, auburn hair. "It's alright. Just...push it away. Shut it all out. You're stronger than it is. I know it."

Hecate's fingers clutched at the back of Elster's green jacket. She gulped. Focused.

In an instant, the fog pushed away. Like a burst of air exploded, centered on the two embracing replikas, the fog dispersed violently. Revealing an open clearing amid the trees, lit by cool moonlight.

"That's it," Elster said, feeling for the first time in she knew not how long a blissful silence. Her head still ached, but it was finally, blessedly quiet. "That's it. Good girl."

"Ngh..."

Star 05 sat up, rubbing her head. "W-what...?"

"...f-uuuuuk...ow..."

STAR 06's eyes popped open. She rolled over on her back, staring at the hole in her forearm. Artificial muscle fibers fraying before her eyes. "...shhhhhiiiit...ow..."

The Stars writhed on the ground, rubbing their heads.

"...grandma...?" Hecate whimpered, opening her eyes and staring into Elster's chest. "...what...happened?"

Elster smiled weakly, patting the girl's head. Her eyes wandered to the side.

"...nhh...ah..." the Dark Angels marine twitched, flopping onto his stomach. A great hand clutched his side, where a bolter round rent his armor. "...damn...nation..." he grunted, deliriously. Fingers digging blindly in the dirt. "...what is...ngh..."

Elster grinned, then frowned. Something else caught her eye.

"...Hec," she said, soberly.

"Y-yes?" Hecate said, frowning.

"Go help the Stars. Artemis too. She's...in a bad way." A pained twitched on her face. She compartmentalized her concern. Elster placed her hands on the Kolibri's shoulders. "Tell her I'm sorry."

"...what...are you going to do?" Hecate asked, pulling away apprehensively.

Elster glared over the Kolibri's head.

Uphill, a creature hid amid the trees. Blueish black fur shown dimly in the pale moonlight, bestial face framed by a set of downward curving horns. Three blue eyes regarded her intently.

Despite the distance, she could hear it purr. With frustration, and with...interest? Delight?

Then, with preternatural ease, the feline beast turned and departed with a whip of its bushy tail. Loping silently away, to ascend the wooded hill even higher. Sparing only a single glance back, eyes half-lidded. The expression of a beckoning lover, with the unspoken hint of predatory malice.

The replika commander didn't need to guess where it went. It wanted her to follow.

Elster scowled, glaring into the darkness. She lowered a hand to rest it on the hilt of the pilfered power sword at her belt.

"...I have to kill that thing."

Chapter 58: Mindstealer

"It's...nhh...waiting up...there..."

Hooves clacked on stone steps cracked by time and tree roots, weathered by rain and wind and opportunistic moss. Light gray stone shone bright under the pale moonlight.

She passed three fallen Astartes, dead or dying, before stopping beside the only conscious one.

"Is he okay?" Elster asked, hefting a borrowed submachinegun. She nodded to the gestalt at his side.

Sergeant David, face bloody from a fresh set of claw marks, turned his head sideways. Regarded his companion.

The knight in antique, pre-Imperial power armor groaned. Sporting a black eye and facial swelling, his head lolled. He had all the dignity and bearing of a concussed boxer. Hand clutched at the buckled chestplate, arm and leg armor scratched by myriad claw-marks that gouged deep into black metal.

"...he may...make it," David panted, turning away. "He will...need medical attention...soon..." He shook his head. "There is...no time...the creature must...die..."

"That's the plan, yes," Elster nodded. She took one hoofstep up the stairs.

"Wait..." David said, groaning. He held up a bloodied hand. "...wait...it is too...dangerous...give me...but a moment..." He swallowed, gauntleted hand rubbing one destroyed eye. "...my body will...mend itself soon..."

The replika held up a hand.

"With all due respect, Herr David," Elster said, "you are in no fit condition to continue fighting. Save your energy. Your allies here need it." She looked up the hill, seeing fog cling to the summit. "Moreover...I admit I do not trust your mind won't be deceived again. If that happens, you will doubtless be a bigger threat to me than the beast."

"But...it has withdrawn its...influence...from the rest of us," David gasped, struggling and failing to sit up. He winced, hand clutching at the bolter wound on his stomach. "...will you have...what it takes...to face its...undivided attention?"

"I will have to. That thing hurt my children," Elster said, narrowing her eyes. "Moreover, I'm now aware of its power. It will not trick me so easily now."

She turned, beginning her ascent. "Take care, Herr Ritter," she said, not looking. "If I fail, make sure my kids return safely."

"You...have my word," David said, nodding. "Good hunting, Lady." He laid his head back, and looked up at her. "What...of the...prophecy?"

Elster paused. Inclined her head up fractionally.

"...prophecies...only have the power we ascribe to them," she said. The replika turned her head, side-eyeing the marine. "But if it puts you at ease, I'm a Replika. One created in the mental imprint of another."

She resumed her climb. "I was literally born twice."

 

You are brave to come this far alone, LSTR-512...

Two moss-covered corner pieces were all that stood of the building's front facade. Its gate crumbled away, stones pilfered by peasants one by one over years to build houses or fences or wells. The flanking corners gave the impression of a wide, gaping maw, the upper teeth disappeared in the sky.

Stepping up onto the cracked stone foundation, Elster checked the inside corners. Finger ready on the trigger of her SMG. Fog thick as pea soup almost seemed to ooze out from the ruins themselves.

Staring forward, she narrowed her eyes. Hooves clacked on cracked stone tiles, as she ventured inside.

...but I should expect nothing less from the Arkifane's Champion, continued the creature's smooth, deep, feminine voice. His...blade in the dark.

"...I'm no one's champion," Elster muttered, eyes darting around. Each step taken slow, deliberate, through a line of crumbling walls and broken pillars. "Certainly not his."

Hmm...You undersell yourself, the creature purred. The Arkifane entrusts a great deal of information, privileges, and responsibility to you, in this time when the forces of Chaos are on the march. You are an asset he favors...how exciting, that I get to play with you.

Clack, clack, clack.

Elster whipped her SMG around, spying a shape loping in the gloom.

RT-RT-RT.

At the bark of the weapon, masonry chipped away and bullets bounced off into dark corners.

"..."

Elster panted, heartbeat elevated. She looked around quickly, seeking sight or sound of the beast.

Engineer's ears listened. Somewhere beyond the ruined walls, wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of pine to her nostrils. Despite this, the fog did not disperse or move with the breeze, as it ought.

"...what...are you?" Elster mumbled, swallowing. "How can you do all this? How do you know so much about Chaos?"

Mmm...heh heh heh...

The creature let the chuckle echo, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. Let the moment linger. Allowed the replika to marinate in unease.

Finally, she thought, ...the Aeldari called my kind 'Sphiranx'. Our potent talents, at times the equal or superior to even that august race, allowed us a perpetual seat before their hearths, in their temples, and attending their salons. Entertainers, advisers, guardians, teachers, muses...even oracles. They were accomplished seers in their own right, of course. Elevated prognostication to an art form, as they so elevated everything they put their minds to. But still, it always pays to have a second opinion. Someone on hand who can tell you what you can't...or won't, hear.

"..."

Elster walked forward, then pressed her back against a pillar. Breathing in, out, she spun around and checked through a side passage doorway. The corridor beyond, of course, long crumbled to nothing. But with the fog, she could scarcely tell where the ruins ended and the wilderness outside began.

Clack.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, pointing her SMG to a spot in the gloom somewhere in the crumbling hall. Spied a tiny pebble bounce across the floor. Eyes peeled for any shape, any movement, in the fog. "..."

Hmph, scoffed the feline beast, such oracular honestly was our undoing. We saw it coming, you know. Even members of their own race saw it, plain as day. The ruination they brought upon themselves. The Path of Screams. The dark roads they walked had darker outcomes. The smart ones fled, and forsook their ruinous ways. But most...most did not want to hear of it. 'An end to the empire, millions of years in dominion? A call to change our ways? Bah! What do the Sphiranx know?' Damnable fools...

"..." The replika looked over her shoulder. She took a step.

There was a bitter edge to the feline's mental voice.

Cats... Elster thought, with small amusement, ...are prideful animals.

And why should we not be prideful!? roared the sphiranx. We were right! We saw it, we predicted it, and it was SO! No matter that they forsook our counsel, and cast us out of their palaces and Crone Worlds! Aeldari civilization died, just as we said it would! They brought that THING into existence, and it devoured them whole. Body, mind, and soul.

Elster chewed her lip. "...She Who Thirsts..."

...yes..., the feline thought. She seemed to...compose herself. Yes. The child of their debauched fixations. Their endless quest for more, better, greater. She Who Thirsts. The one who even ate their gods.

"What...is it?" Elster breathed, looking around. "What is this being?"

"..."

The feline...laughed. Laughed inside Elster's mind. A bitter chortle.

"..." Elster swallowed, eyes searching the gloom uneasily.

Oh...dear Champion, the sphiranx thought, savoring the exquisite moment, you already know their names. The Dark Prince. The God of Unspeakable Excess. The youngest of the Four...

Gears turned in Elster's head. She snapped to attention. She whispered, a dread mounting in her heart, "...Slaanesh..."

Just so, little hunter, the creature purred. If the survivors of that catastrophe don't know it yet, they'll figure it out soon. Figure out what our kind - and you too, it seems - discovered long ago...

"...what is that?" Elster muttered, stepping further into the ruined hall. The fog grew suffocating.

She froze. From the corner of her eye, she spied it. At first, she thought it might be an assemblage of heaped stones or an artfully fallen pillar. But as she turned her head, her heart skipped a beat.

The Mindstealer Sphiranx stood behind a pillar, great feline body silhouetted in the gloom. As the moon came fully out from behind a cloud, the creature's blue-black fur stood out against the light gray stone. Horns that curved down from its head. A mane, partially braided and colored magenta, ending in golden ornaments.

Her three light blue eyes glowed, stabbing out from the gloom. Stared at Elster.

...that there is no fighting against the Ruinous Powers, she thought. No struggling against the forces of Primordial Annihilation. There is only joining them.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, spinning around and pointing her SMG.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

"Mrreow!" the creature growled, as she darted off. Bullets impacted cold stone harmlessly in her wake. Gouging into masterful brickwork, stripping moss and chips from the surface.

"..." Elster looked everywhere, eyes unable to follow the rapid movement of the beast. "...where...?"

You, of all beings, should understand, Elster, the sphiranx purred. Her voice seemed to come from behind. Always behind, so matter how the replika twisted and turned. Understand what it means to be lost, adrift. Discarded. Your masters abandoned you on a whim. Cast you into the cold dark between the stars, because they could not accept their own failure. Nor the doom hanging above their heads. Your allies and avenues vanished. Connections severed. Bereft, desperate, and alone.

Clack, clack.

The replika whirled around, heart skipping a beat.

RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT.

Stone chips and spent shell casings cascaded to the tile floor. Elster's eyes darted around more assiduously.

"...no..." she panted, head jerking to every errant corner. "...I'm not..."

Like me? Please. Do not pretend you are superior. You, touched by two of the lesser emanations. With the greater powers already slowly, inexorably turning their eyes to you. They begin to gauge your worth, even now. To factor you into plans already millennia in the making...

"Shut up!" Elster shouted into the fog, turning and pointing her weapon at every dark corner of the room. "I didn't ask for the King In Yellow's attention! I never wanted to be...there! I never asked for any of this!"

And yet, you opened the book, teased the beast. And yet, you stayed your hand, even as your love begged for death. And yet, you HAD to keep your Promise, even in death. And yet, you signed the Arkifane's contract. A silent, mental "tsk, tsk" and "tut tut". The creature chuckled.

A knot formed in the replika's stomach. She scowled in pain. "...I didn't..." Elster whispered, looking around fearfully. "...I didn't know...I didn't know any of it would happen..." She shouted, "How could I have known!? It isn't fair!"

Oooooh, don't worry, dear, the sphiranx cooed. How can you be blamed for what you did? How can any of us, whether we sought them out or took Their hands, when offered?

Clack, clack, clack.

Elster whirled around, seeing the whip of a tail vanish behind a column.

Because the world is cold, and cruel. And the Ruinous Powers, while fickle, never reject one who comes asking for boons. They offer, and accept, any and all. Without distinction, reservation, or regret. Why should you feel guilty? In your darkest moments, They reached out with open arms...

"..."

Elster's heart raced. With how she spun around, she couldn't even be sure which way she came in. Color drained from her face, and her skin broke out into cold sweat. The SMG shook in her hands.

"..."

She waited. Looking for any sign. Teeth chattering. She stared fearfully at the gloom.

"..."

...in that case, the creature continued, an edge forming on her voice, why don't we let those arms embrace you?

The replika's stomach dropped. Her heart skipped a beat. Blood ran cold. "...no..."

Out of the fog, they came.

Singly, at first. Then, more and more. Silhouettes in the fog. Amorphous, then slowly drawn into terrible focus. They were all around her now.

"...no, no, no...!" Elster said, whipping around frantically. Desperate to keep the growing crowd in view. She realized her encirclement with mounting horror.

Forms distantly related to humanity, but distorted. Jutting horns. Elongated heads. Clawed, digitigrade legs. Writhing tentacles. Clacking claws. Slavering maws. Bulging eyes. Clouds of flies. Shambling gaits. Flashing blades.

Whispers from the gloom sent a jolt up Elster's spine. To her horror, their guttural blackspeech was entirely explicable to her ears. Explicable and vile. Horrid, blasphemous banter, chittering and cooing sweet nothings in her ear. Laughing, growling, babbling, moaning.

And the smell. Oh, the smell, wafting in from all sides. Thick and strong and pungent. The smell of brimstone and blood. Of perfume and putrescence. It inspired terror, and anger. Nauseated her. Even...turned her on.

Foul appendages beckoned. Voices cajoled. They wanted her. Wanted to meet her. To touch, feel, taste her. To share their gifts, which they had in awful abundance.

They had such...sights to show her.

"...s-s-st-stay back!" Elster shouted, thrusting her SMG forward for emphasis. She whipped around, snarling. "Get away!"

The clamor stopped dead. The silhouettes stood still, unseen faces regarding her. They snarled and sneered.

What's wrong, Elster? purred the sphiranx. Don't you want to partake in the multifarious blessings of Chaos? Or... She chuckled. ...are you spurning their gifts? Tsk, tsk. They won't like that...

Elster, hair matted by sweat, balked. "I don't want...!"

"SCREEE!"

A lithe, androgynous form was first to the fore. Body wound up like a spring, barreling forward, heedless of danger.

"AH!" Elster cried, squeezing the trigger.

RT-RT-RT.

Bullets tore through a body that seemed to grow no brighter as it approached. Pierced its dark body from point blank range, as it raised a claw to strike.

Perforations leaked inky smoke, before the monstrosity disintegrated before the replika's eyes. Disappeared like a bad dream on waking, leaving only the heady scent of musk in her nostrils.

Elster gaped, watching as her assailant dissolved. "...it's..."

Other abominations screeched, and pressed forward. From all directions.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, side-stepping as a shadow ran past. She aimed her weapon from the hip.

RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT.

The ring around her howled hungrily, lustily, as members of their throng dove into the fray. Ones and twos, sometimes more at a time. Was it some dark sense of fair play? The desire not to collide with each other? Or...was it something else that stopped them rushing all together?

RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

"Rrragh!" Elster growled, falling on her back as a tentacled horror jumped on top of her.

Black fire kindled on the thing's fingertips. Index and pinkie extended to the sky, ready to bring it down. To scorch her face with flame, as its huge mouth snapped at her. Babbled scraps of deep, arcane secrets.

"No!" Elster grunted, throwing her SMG up to knock the hand away. She blanched, as teeth gnawed on the weapon.

Reaching to her belt, she unsheathed her curved, talon blade.

"GAAAAAH!" the horror screamed, as Elster sliced it in twain from (featureless) groin to crown.

The replika scrambled to her hooves as the creature split down the middle to either side, spilling gouts of inky smoke. "Ah!" she cried, raising her SMG one-handed.

RT-RT-RT-RT.

One half of the creature began to form into another, smaller abomination, before dissolving again under a hail of bullets.

"Hrrmph!" grunted a shadow as it approached from the side, hefting a massive, two-handed sword. "Nrraagh!" it yelled, annihilating the other half-horror as it tried to engage the replika. Its rage would not be denied nor slowed, even by a theoretical ally.

Scheisse! Elster thought, retreating from the creature.

RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT.

Her SMG barked, clearing another few approaching creatures. She turned it on the swords-monster.

Click. Click.

"N-no!" Elster gasped, looking down in alarm at her depleted weapon. "Ah!" she yelped, ducking as the greatsword swung over her head.

From her flank, another lithe, sprinting creature dashed past. Serrated pincer opening wide.

"Argh!" Elster screamed, feeling something rake across her back. Green cloth shredded and armor sparked.

"Rragh!" the sword-monster grunted, raising weapon high. Hot breath smelled of fresh blood.

Gritting her teeth, Elster dove forward, swinging her knife. Impossibly keen edge slashed through shadowy flesh.

"...gah!" The monster gurgled, sword falling from its grip as it clutched its throat. A spray of smoke poured out, before creature and blade dissolved into nothing.

Elster fumbled with the empty magazine on her SMG, noticing too late the bloated creature shambling close. "...ah!"

"Bleeeagh!" the abomination gurgled, as it vomited dark, chunky ichor on the replika. A foul-smelling, viscous stream, that clung to flesh and clothes "...gack...hah hah!" it chuckled, belching. Patted its bulbous, leaking stomach with satisfaction.

The replika was paralyzed, for a second. Eyes shut, covered in ichor. Hands shaking. She breathed. The stench hit her nostrils. Her eyes shot open.

"...Ah! Ah! AAAAGH!" Elster screamed, clawing at her face. Deep-seated memories surged to the surface. Her talon-knife clattered to the ground at her hooves. "N-no! Nnagh!" she groaned. The fluids creeped into her mouth through her gaping mouth, filling it with...a taste so repulsive as to turn her stomach.

She wasn't seeing featureless black ichor. She saw a riot of colors from vile, rotting juices. Splashed upon her where a decaying mound of bodies, used as an impromptu retaining wall, exploded beside her from mortar fire.

Elster began to dry heave. She was back in the trenches. Spattered in human gore that carried all manner of foul diseases. Tainted viscera that laid her in hospital for weeks. She clutched her face, already feeling delirious, faint, feverish.

A shape rushed past her, pincer open wide. She felt claws rake her thigh.

"Ah!" Elster yelled, doubling over. Clutched her leg. Eyes cracked open. Saw parallel cuts in her synthetic musculature.

A gear turned in her head. The pain, and the realization, pulled her back to reality. "...ah..."

"Hah hah hah!" laughed the bloated monster before her, jovial at her sickness. At her belated acceptance of the Grandfather's gifts.

A blade drawn from a sheath. A switch thumbed. Mechanisms thrummed to life. Cold, pale stone bathed in blue glow.

"Hrragh!"

The disease monster's head was divorced from its body, just as the creature itself was severed from its ghost.

"...huff...huff...huff...gck..."

Elster stood up straight, panting. Pilfered power sword crackling by her side.

She glared, gasping. The black, chunky ichor covering her face evaporated into smoke off her body like steam. Only the memory of scent and taste remained.

She gritted her teeth. "...you're...not real..."

The circle of shadowy abominations hesitated, then rushed her. No more waiting turns. No more perfunctory gestures at fairness. They piled in, from all sides.

Elster gritted her teeth, then crouched down. Gripped handle with both hands. "...nnnaaaAAAGH!"

As the cavalcade of capering creatures were upon her, she spun. Swinging blade with all her might. A ring of blue light and sparks formed around the replika.

The shining sword cleaved through the entire group, as if through empty air. Limbs, torsos, heads, tentacles. All sliced from bodies in an instant.

Elster rose to full height, surrounded by a cloud of inky smoke venting into the open air.

She glared, growling, "You're. Not. REAL!"

Clack, clack, clack.

"Tch," Elster grunted. With a flick of her wrist and a hop, she side-stepped and swing the sword. Cleaving into the onrushing horror, clipping its side.

"MMMMRRREEOW!"

A curved horn clattered noisily to the floor, along with a magenta braid, gold bangle shining cool in the moonlight. A spatter of fluid stained ancient ceramic tiles scarlet.

The loping creature stumbled, unseen claws digging into the floor. Scratching or breaking off floor tiles, in its mad dash to escape.

Elster looked over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the tail whipping in the fog. "No..." she growled, hand snapping to her belt.

POP POP POP.

"YYYEOW!"

All phantoms in the fog did not dissolve. They blinked out of existence. The threads of their being severed in an instant.

The retreating, feline form spasmed violently, before frantically limping away. Three glowing, fearful eyes chanced a single look back through the enclosing fog.

"...you're not getting away," Elster seethed, clutching her pistol. Nostrils filling with a true, familiar scent for the first time in minutes. A scent that carried no less awful connotations, but was still strangely comforting.

Her true, constant companion: the acrid smell of gunsmoke.

She winced, her lacerated leg shooting pain up her spine. Elster ignored it. She limped forward resolutely. Pistol in one hand, power sword in the other.

The replika followed the vanished form through the fog.

 

You...ngh...think you've won?

Hooves clacked on glazed tiles. Followed the trail of rich, dark scarlet spilled on the pale floor.

The replika's eyes darted around, pistol whipping around to check her corners. She passed through a ruined doorway, into another chamber.

...you...think you're some...hero? A...gah...warrior of prophecy?

Through the fog, she saw another set of pillars illuminated by pale moonlight. Jutting columns meant to hold up a roof long ago crumbled and carted away by opportunistic peasants.

Eyes glanced down. Elster frowned. "..."

A dark shape lay prone off to the side. The elderly knight's blood cooled on the ground in a great pool, vented by the tear in his throat. Running into grout lines, spreading out between tiles. One visible eye gaped wide, locked in death shock. Gray hairs fluttered in the wind. Bolt pistol depleted by his side. Power sword blade stuck in a crack in the stone pillar behind him, handle broken off and clutched in his gnarled hand.

HE thought to play the hero, too...hah hah...look what...guh...it got him...

Elster averted her gaze, scowling. "..."

She tightened her grip on pistol and sword, and stalked forward. Glared.

Old fool, the sphiranx thought. Pain vibrated along the mental connection. He...ngh...wasn't even twice-born. Not that it would have helped. It won't...ngh...help you either, replika...

Elster limped forward, waving pistol slowly around. Walked between a row of benches, as she approached the faint suggestion of a chapel altar. A holy place for some Calibanite religion outlawed by Imperial writ long ago.

For you see...ngh...the old fool...had it wrong... The feline chuckled painfully through the aether. Somewhere ahead, behind the altar, the replika heard the beast's soft, pained whimpers. Stupid humans. How their memories...deceive them. Ngh...the prophecy...was for a thrice-born hero. So sorry to disappoint you. You're not the one, LSTR-512. You...might as well give up and...go home...

A dark shape in the gloom rushed from behind a pillar.

Elster flinched, then frowned. She stood her ground.

The infernal abomination, horned and long-headed, bore teeth and whipping tongue in silhouette. It reached two-handed sword back and made to swing like a bat.

Elster glared at the monster. She didn't move.

The sword of shadows shattered against her head. Shards spinning in the air. The black hairs on her head didn't even shift.

If she could see the shade's eyes, she might have perceived shock. Not that it mattered. There was nothing inside, but an echo of the wounded beast nearby. A faded memory of rage.

"Enough games," Elster grumbled, narrowing her eyes.

She walked forward, through the phantom. It disintegrated into smoke around her, as insubstantial as the threat it posed. The replika blinked, and did not pause her stride.

A shuffling behind the altar. The scratching of claws on tile. Heavy breathing.

"..."

Step. Step. Step.

Elster limped forward, swallowing. Pistol pointed, one-handed. Targeting reticle seeking hostile targets. Laser sight piercing the fog like a thin, red wire. She approached the altar, circling around the side.

Thumb steadied on the switch to the power sword in her off hand.

"..."

A shape, squatting in the gloom. A head rose.

She cranked the lever back on her pistol.

"...Elster?"

The replika froze. Eyes widened. "...no..."

The figure sat up, peeking through the fog. Two red eyes regarded her warmly.

"...Elster..." said the gestalt, garbed in the uniform of a Eusan Nation scout officer. "...what's wrong?"

The pistol shook in the replika's hand.

"...you..." Elster breathed, trembling. A lump formed in her throat. "...you can't...be here..."

White hair shined in the pale moonlight. The gestalt smiled warmly.

Ariane Yeong extended her hand.

"Aren't you glad to see me, Elster?"

Notes:

The Mindstealer Sphiranx is a monster from Warhammer: Age of Sigmar. It's not native to the 40K universe. But it's also so cool, I had to port it over anyway. It's kind have roughly the same backstory in AoS. Creatures that used to serve the Elves (well, "Aelves"; stupid GW copyright), until they were banished. They went on to serve Chaos, which is why they can be fielded as a unit in armies like Slaves to Darkness, or in Warcry.

Chapter 59: Thrice-Born

"...Ariane?"

Wind rustled through distant pines, wafting the strong smell of needles through the ruined chapel to forgotten, outlawed faith. The altar bare, holy items snatched and destroyed long ago.

The replika stammered, eyes - and shaking pistol - locked on the gestalt woman squatting behind it, "...i-i-it can't...be..."

The scout officer rose to her feet. She smiled.

"Elster..." she cooed, pale hand extended plaintively. Red, half-lidded eyes regarded her lover fondly. "...it's so good to see you."

"..."

It took a moment before Elster remembered to breathe. "Gah!" she gasped, raising her left hand to clutch it to her chest. Feeling an unusual weight, she looked down. Saw the power sword she carried. "...wah...?"

Where...did she get...?

"Elster..."

Eyes snapped up. "...Ariane?" Elster breathed. "Is it...really you?"

Ariane giggled, closing her eyes. "Of course it is, silly!" she said, tilting her head to the side. "Who else would it be?"

"Are you...real?" Elster said, heart racing. A knot formed in her chest.

The gestalt smiled warmly. Extended both hands. "Why don't you feel for yourself?"

"...Ari..." Elster choked, eyebrows furrowing sadly. She took one step closer.

"Ellie..." Ariane frowned. "...why are pointing a gun? You wouldn't want to hurt me, right?"

Elster looked down at her pistol, still pointed at Ariane. Her lover. Her goddess.

The replika recoiled in horror. "N-no!" she gasped, lowering the pistol. "I-I w-would never!"

She took another step. Her heart beat so hard, she couldn't hear the buzzing in the back of her head.

"I...I could never..." Elster said, gasping. Tears threatened to fill her eyes. Her chest trembled, overwrought with emotion. "...I could never hurt you, Ari..."

"Then come here, my love," Ariane said, beckoning. She beamed. "I'm waiting. It's been so very long."

"...yes..." Elster breathed, lips quivering, threatening a shaky smile. "...so...very long..."

Step. Slip.

"Ah!" Elster yelped, losing her balance. She frantically bent over and steadied herself on the altar by her side.

"Ellie!" Ariane said, concern flashing on her face. She took a step forward. "Are you okay?"

"...y-yeah, I'm..." Elster said, panting. She stared at the altar. At the pistol in her hand that she leaned on. Felt the weight of the sword in her other hand.

Why...did she have these weapons? Who...what was she fighting? What...was she doing, just a moment ago? What was this place? How did she get here?

"Here," Ariane crooned, smiling. Took another step. "Let me help you..."

Elster's eyes traveled down. She lifted her hoof, the one that slipped. How did...?

Blood. Blood on her hoof. Blood...trailing across the floor.

"..." With mounting concern, her eyes followed the trail forward.

It pooled behind Ariane's heels as she so-very-slowly stepped forward. Despite stepping in the blood, her foot came up clean.

"...Ari..."

"Hmm?" Ariane said, cocking her head to the side. "What?"

"...your feet...the blood..."

The gestalt's eyes widened. She looked down.

A new droplet of scarlet...spontaneously appeared on the ground, ex nihilo.

Elster stood up. Her mind's eye traveled inward, to her digital interface.

By habit, her inner eye traveled to a particular corner of her systems. To the Soul Count.

She finally noticed the buzzing in her head. The warning bells blaring. The subconscious impulse to clutch her weapons fast. She was in immediate danger.

She scowled. "...this...isn't real..."

The gestalt looked up. She flinched. "...Ellie?"

"..." Elster glared, pointing her pistol at the gestalt.

"...Elster, this isn't funny!" Ariane scowled. She took a step forward. "Put that gun away!"

"You...can't be here..." Elster breathed, a pained expression on her face. "You... aren't Ariane..."

A brief look of panic. Then, the gestalt smiled nervously. "Wh-what are you talking about? Elster, it's me!"

"THEN WHY DO I STILL OWE VASHTORR SOULS!?" Elster shouted, pointing the pistol.

"..."

Wind rustled through distant branches.

The targeting laser pierced the fog, dot resting on the gestalt's chest. It wavered violently.

"...Elster..." A step forward.

"Back!" Elster ordered, jerking the pistol forward for emphasis.

Ariane - or rather the illusion thereof - smiled hysterically. "...heh heh...what are you going to do? Didn't you say so yourself?" She took a step forward. Extended arms forward. "You can't hurt me."

"..." Elster shut her eyes. Turned her head away. "...that's not true." She inhaled sharply, and stabbed the pistol out hard. "I've done it before." She snapped her eyes open and glared. "I've done it before, and I can kill you..."

She froze.

"...again...?"

The pistol tumbled from her fingers, clattering noisily on the tiled floor.

"...what about me, then? Can you still do it?"

Elster's eyes widened. She stared, dumbstruck. Empty fingers trembled, pointing.

The brown-haired gestalt in the Eusan Nation uniform took another step forward.

"...Alina?"

Alina Seo smiled. Beckoned with her upturned hands. "Elster..." she whined, inclining her head back. "Come to me, my love. We can be together again."

"Alina," Elster gasped, frozen in place. A lump formed in her throat. "...is it really you...?"

"Shh," Alina said, taking another step. She was so close now. "Hush now. Come here..."

"...Alina..." Elster breathed, expression of pain. She stepped forward, vaguely aware of the weight of the sword in her hand.

Alina extended her hands wide. "...my dear...Lilith."

A hoof stopped mid-stride. A breath caught.

A gear turned. Alarm bells broke through again.

...oh... Elster thought, heart breaking for the thousandth time. ...you...clever fucking cat...

"...Lilith?" Alina muttered, frowning. "...wait..."

Elster sighed. Face contorted in agony. "...I'm sorry..."

The gestalt's eyes widened.

She sneered, then pounced. Arms - and paws - outstretched. "Elster!" Alina growled. "Come to me!"

Power sword grasped in both hands. Elster pulled back, crouching down. She glared, as the shadow fell over her.

"...I'm sorry!" she barked, thrusting. Thumbed the switch on the hilt. "Nrgh!"

Shing!

"..."

A rush of air, as the fog was pushed away.

"Gah!"

The sphiranx gasped, perched on her hind legs. Jaws snapping at empty air. Claws dug through a green jacket, and into a solid metal plate.

Elster's lips quivered, both from the exertion of bearing the weight of the beast, and from the pain in her soul. A tear rolled down her cheek. She took a shuddering breath.

I'm so sorry, Alina, Elster thought forlornly, staring into the beast's blue-black fur. She gasped, choking back a sob. I wish I...I wishwe could have done more for you...wherever you are...

Blue light bathed her face. Blood gushing down from the beast's chest stained the green sleeves of her jacket a muddy brown. It sizzled off the energized blade, until she thumbed off the switch.

"Gck! Haff!" the sphiranx gasped. Three wide, blue eyes stared into space, dumbfounded. She coughed, blood pouring from her feline mouth.

...h-how!? she thought, sucking quick, rapid breaths. How is this...possible!?

Elster inhaled. Then sighed. "...cat."

The sphiranx flinched, looking down.

"I am a replika," Elster said, mastering herself. "One born with the neural pattern of a gestalt already dead. But...I'm not like the others..."

No... the creature thought, telepathically grasping the point as the replika brought it to the surface. It shuddered. Cursed itself, for not probing just a little bit deeper. For not connecting the dots sooner.

"I was born Lilith Itou..."

No, no...

"...then, born LSTR-512..."

No, no, fuck you! the sphiranx thought, gritting teeth together. No! That's...

"...then, born LSTR-S2301," Elster said, narrowing her eyes. "I loved Ariane Yeong in one life, and loved Alina Seo in two."

No, no, no! This can't be happening! This is...!

"In short," Elster said, shutting her eyes, "I am Elster, Thrice-Born."

"Hsssss!" the cat hissed, gasping for breath as it coughed up blood. "Gck!" No! That's not possible! It can't be!

"Search my feelings," Elster said, neutrally, "you know it to be..."

But that's stupid! This can't be true! The prophecy is BULLSHIT! the creature screamed mentally, gritting its blood-stained teeth. It dug claws deep in the metal plate on Elster's back and scratched, shooting sparks. I made it up! I was the one who planted the vision in the peasant crone's head in the first fucking place! It was always a ruse to keep the humans docile! I even changed it, not two minutes ago! It doesn't MEAN anything!

"..." Elster wheezed. "Hah hah hah!"

The sphiranx coughed, growling. What's...so fucking funny!?

"Hoo!" Elster smiled. "For a cat claiming to understand Chaos, you know so little about the Warp. If enough people believe a prophecy, on some level it becomes true."

The creature deflated. More of her weight pressed down on the replika. She retracted her claws.

Heh...well...played...

"Ngh," Elster grunted. She pulled the sword from the creature's ravaged torso, and pushed it. "Get off, already!"

"Ack!" the sphiranx flopped heavily, but limply, to the floor. It gasped, coughing up more blood. "..."

Elster flared the sword to life for a second, to burn away residual blood from the blade. Then, sheathed it. She turned, making to walk away.

...Elster...

The replika shut her eyes and sighed. "...what?" she said, turned back. She looked down.

The dying beast turned its head with effort, regarding the replika with three blue eyes. ...heh...Elster Thrice-Born...Blade of the Arkifane...you have...bested me. I concede.

"You concession is immaterial to these proceedings," Elster said, narrowing her eyes. "Just fuck off to the Soul Forges, so I can get my count."

Oh...I will... The creature coughed violently, another gout of blood spraying on the floor. Like the world's wettest, bloodiest hairball. Before I go, however, I have...one last boon to provide...

"I don't need any more boons," Elster said, frowning.

You say that now. But, like it or not, you are a Chaos Champion. Your life...will be dominated by strife. Such it shall be, until you perish for good, you are warped beyond recognition, or you Ascend...

"Or until I square my debt with the Arkifane, get Ariane back, and turn my back on Chaos and this whole wretched galaxy."

Hah...plenty like you have clung to such hopes. A smile looked disturbing on the face of a feline monster. It narrowed its eyes knowingly at her. I can see why the Architect of Fate has already taken an interest.

"Get on with it!" Elster growled, stooping to pick up her pistol.

Whatever your ambitions, whether conquest, knowledge, or just to save your girl... The sphiranx winced, writhing in pain. ...if you are to succeed...you need power. Anyone who seeks their heart's desire, selfish or noble, must seek the power to take it.

"I don't take deals from dead people," Elster said, checking her ammo. "What's your point?"

No deals, only boons. The creature slowly brought her paw up, pointing a single claw to her face. When I am dead, pluck out my third eye. Preserve it in clear resin, and set it inside a pendent of gold. Ritually dedicate it. If you meditate upon the eye, it will teach the ritual. Anoint it with your blood...

"I have no blood," Elster said. "I have oxidizing fluid."

Fool of a girl, the sphiranx thought, rolling her eyes. Magic is magic. It cares nothing for reason. The scarlet fluid running in your veins is blood, for all that the difference it makes to the Warp. She coughed, closing her eyes. Do this, and you will be able to wield my power. If this is to be my end, I can at least ensure a Champion Ascends according to MY will. According to MY design.

"...I have no interest in 'Ascending', götterdämmerung," Elster scowled. "Or in being a 'Champion'. I hate Chaos."

The creature laughed, which evolved into a bloody coughing fit. ...perhaps...you are better off swearing yourself to Him, then...

Elster raised an eyebrow. "...who?"

The one whose name is forbidden, the creature thought. Her ragged breathing began to slow. The one so terrible - so abhorrent to them - the Dark Gods put aside their squabbles to make war on Him. Lest He bring them all to death, so long denied.

"...are...are you talking about the Emperor?" Elster said, narrowing her eyes.

"..."

The creature laughed so hard, it was wracked with pain. Yet, it laughed on anyway.

Fool... she thought, wheezing painfully. Her paw rested on the ground. I'm talking about Him. THE Primordial Annihilator. The Death Principle itself.

She cracked open her three eyes and looked at the replika one last time.

If you TRULY hate Chaos, in Him you'll find your greatest ally. Though, you'll make an enemy of the rest of creation.

"..."

The sphiranx shut her eyes. ...farewell, Elster Thrice-Born. Perhaps...we will meet again...sooner than...you...think...

"..."

Elster stared at the Great Beast. Stared until she saw the Soul Count decrement by twenty-five.

Then, she looked up. Watched the full moon hang above it all, amid an infinite sea of stars.

 

"How is she?"

Red and orange colored the sky, as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Light reflected off the dark waters of the lake, as waves rippled against the pebble beach.

A hand cast forth a stone, ground smooth by river water.

It skipped once, twice, three times, before plopping into the drink.

Hecate clasped her hands behind her back. Her face was covered in dried mud, from the frequent tumbling in the moist forest earth hours before.

"She's with the Stars right now. Artemis is...doing better," she said, nodding. "I did all I could. She's...going to need counseling, to deal not only with what happened, but...what she remembered."

The replika commander sat on a flat boulder abutting the water's edge. Her back to the Kolibri, staring out at the sunrise. Her hand played with another stone. She sighed, and tossed it.

Skip. Skip. Plop.

"Alright," Elster said, nodding. She fished into her belt. "I'll have a talk with her, after this."

"I don't...know if she's ready to see you, Elster," Hecate said, somberly. "She insists she's fine now, but..."

"..." Elster paused, then pulled the cloth bundle out. Set it on the boulder, tapping the hard surface with her finger. "...I spooked her pretty bad, didn't I?"

"She knows it's not your fault..."

"Intellectually, yes. But it doesn't feel that way, right?" Elster frowned.

"...no."

Elster sighed. "...we can send her ahead on the shuttle, if she needs her space. The Dark Angels said they wanted me to attend them at a dining hall today anyway."

"I'm sorry I hurt that one marine," Hecate said, frowning. "I didn't..."

"Don't apologize," Elster said flatly. "Blame the sphiranx, not yourself."

"The...Sphiranx?" Hecate muttered. She shook her head. "If I was just stronger, I wouldn't have..."

"Don't. Even I got taken in by it," Elster said, picking up a stone from a pile by her side. She hefted it in her hand, testing its weight. "Even Astartes warriors were taken in. There's nothing to be ashamed or guilty of. You pulled out of it, and that's what counts." She tossed the stone.

Skip. Skip. Skip. Plop.

"..." Hecate stared at the small waves lapping at the beach. She looked up. Walked forward to stand behind Elster. "That's the thing, isn't it? The disk you made?"

Elster nodded, picking up the bundle. She carefully unwrapped it. Glared solemnly at the hurtful symbol.

Hecate narrowed her eyes, looking painfully at the disk. "You never did explain what it means."

"It's actually two sigils, combined together," Elster said, fingers tracing the lines cast into the plaster from the master mold. "One is the sigil of Vashtorr himself. The other...took a bit of finagling to learn from Mik'hul."

"He didn't want to say?" Hecate said, frowning in response to the gross daemon engine.

"He wanted to say all kinds of things," Elster said. "It took some doing to read between the lines...and the lies." She held the disk up. "The second sigil translates roughly into the word 'Wormwood'."

"...what does that mean?"

Elster reached back, and cast the disk out over the lake.

Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Plop.

"...I think..." Elster said, staring at where ripples marked the object's entrance into the water. "...it's supposed to be a beacon. They all are."

"A beacon for what?" Hecate held her hands close to her chest, nervously.

Elster narrowed her eyes, as she could no longer keep track of where it went down. "...I don't know. So Vashtorr can find them again, later?"

The replikas stared at the warm sunrise.

Hecate blocked the glare with her hand. She smiled. "...it's beautiful here, isn't it?"

"Yes," Elster said, nodding.

The Kolibri sighed. "We should go," she said, turning. Walked a few steps. "...you coming?"

"Just..." Elster exhaled, shutting her eyes. Let the morning light warm her face. "...give me a minute. I'll catch up."

Hecate looked over her shoulder, then nodded. She began climbing the hill, stepping through the line of trees.

"..."

Elster waited until the Kolibri was far enough away, then fished in her jacket pocket. Pulled out another, blood-stained bundle of cloth. Unfurled it, and removed its contents.

She stared down at the sphiranx's blue eyeball. The third eye, plucked from its socket.

The Dark Angels who took possession of the creature's body made no comment about the missing eye. Elster didn't know if they chalked it up to injury during or before the battle...or if they decided some secrets were best left forgotten.

They would know.

She gazed into the azure orb. Became cognizant of the supernatural weight of the thing. The...palpable significance of it. The power.

It began to show things to her, as she looked into it. Words of power to speak, in what order. How to construct a vessel of gold. It promised much.

The sphiranx could make her see things. See her loved ones again. Ariane...Alina...

With the eye, she could see them whenever she wanted.

Elster put her hooves under her and rose. Stood tall on the boulder. Hair fluttered in the wind. She regarded the eye like someone would regard a diamond.

The replika shut her eyes. Leaned her head back.

Then, she tossed the eye across the lake.

Skip. Skip. Plop.

...that's a poisoned chalice, if I ever saw one, Elster thought, glaring at the spot on the water where the eye sank. She turned away, side-eyeing the lake. Nice try, cat. I don't need your boon.

With only a little regret - a little pain at what she parted with - Elster walked back up the hill to rejoin her family.

"..."

Somewhere, hidden in the trees, a marine in a white robe and hood watched the replika leave. Before eyes turned to the lake, regarding it behind green lenses.

Chapter 60: Knighting

"It's alright, kid. I get it."

A block away, cheering villagers packed the cobblestone streets. Bottles popped and cow bells jingled. Children squealed and tipplers sang off-tune, bawdy drinking songs. Confetti rained from the rooftops, resting on hats, hair, and the scratched and pitted armor of triumphant knights.

Open-top trucks and rhino transports carried Astartes, the sole surviving baseline human knight (resuscitated enough to sit stoically beside his brother-knights, that lay beneath tarps), and three bedraggled and bewildered replikas. The morning sun shined down upon them all.

In the shadow of a whitewashed wattle & daub building, one of the last returning replikas sobbed softly into the bosom of her elder sister.

"Shh, shh," Hippolyta whispered, stroking the girl's hair. Due to the disparity in leg sizes (Hippolyta came in the Ara legs she had been wearing, while her junior went out camping in her regular ones), the elder Storch had to stand, while Artemis was on her knees. "It's okay. Just...let it out."

"...hic..." Artemis gasped, burying her face in Hippolyta's arm to avoid being seen. "...don't...don't let 'em see...me fall apart..."

"No one's going to see," Hippolyta whispered. "And you shouldn't feel embarrassed anyway. It's perfectly normal."

"Not for us!" Artemis sobbed, banging her fist weakly into Hippolyta's back. She hugged her sister harder, sniffing. "I just...I was so scared...I was scared he was going to..."

"..." Hippolyta leaned down and kissed her junior's head. "Don't worry about that. You never need to worry about him ever again." She smiled. "You wanna know a secret?"

"..." Artemis sniffed, then turned her face up. Puffy eyes regarded her older sister curiously. "...what?"

Hippolyta leaned in close. "Our gestalt killed the old bastard," she said, smiling. "With her bare hands. I remember it, clear as day."

Sniff. Sniff. "...r-really?" Artemis said, weakly.

The elder Storch nodded. "I know it can feel like he'll always hound you," Hippolyta said, fingers threading through the girl's hair. "But hang on to that truth. We. Killed. Him. We got our revenge. And there's nothing he can do about it anymore."

Artemis smiled poorly, then buried her face in Hippolyta's chest again. "...I should apologize to mom," she said, sniffing. "...if I didn't..."

"Don't blame yourself for that," Hippolyta said, firmly. "What happens under the effects of magical bullshit, stays under magical bullshit." She looked over her shoulder. "Isn't that right, babe?"

Circe and Hecate leaned against the same wall, behind Hippolyta. The elder Kolibri hugged her daughter, stroking her auburn hair.

"Yes," Circe said, nodding. "You made the only decision you could be expected to, given the manipulation you were experiencing." She looked down and kissed Hecate's head. "You too, sweetie."

"...thank you..." Hecate mumbled, hugging her mother back.

"And don't go blaming Elster, either," Hippolyta said, to Artemis. "She can be hard as nails, but she'd never willingly hurt you. At least, not unless you're being a real shit."

"..." Artemis turned her head, staring into space. She sniffed. "...I guess..."

"Blame our old man, if you need to blame anyone," Hippolyta said. "For fucking our gestalt up so bad, it carried over to us. And blame whatever fucked up shit happened to mom, that made her see what she saw."

"She's going to pass by in a second," Circe said, raising her head. "Do we want to watch?"

"..."

Hippolyta looked down at her sister. "Well? You up to it?"

"..." Artemis thought about it. Then, slowly, nodded. "Okay."

Dash ran around the corner. "Hey, mom is about to..."

"Circe told us," Hippolyta said, helping her sister to her hooves.

"Then come on!" Dash said, waving.

The replikas walked down the alley connecting the backstreet to the main avenue. Artemis limped on her hastily repaired ankle.

"They're about to pass!" Samantha said, beckoning them over. "Lift me!" she cried, hands in the air.

"Alright, alright!" Dash said, rushing over and bending down. Her lover jumped on her back, and the Star stood up straight. "Can you see from up here?"

"Yeah!" Samantha laughed, arms around the Star's neck. She nuzzled her lover's hair with her chin, then looked left.

"Wanna do that?" Hippolyta said, looking down to her own girlfriend.

"...sure," Circe said, smirking. She yelped as Hippolyta plucked her off her hooves and carried her like a baby. "Ha ha! Stop!" she chuckled, before kissing the Storch on the cheek.

Looking down at Hecate, Artemis rubbed her eyes, then bent low. "Wanna try it?" she said, voice hoarse.

Hecate looked up at the crowd of tall people, then frowned. "O-okay..." she said, uneasily.

With mounting haste, as she sensed Elster's approach, Hecate climbed onto Artemis's back.

"Oop!" Artemis grunted, standing up. Winced at the ache in her ankle, and leaned on her good leg. She should have asked Elster to fix it, when they had the chance. But that would have required them to exchange more than a few words, and...well...

"Ah!" Hecate yelped, clinging to the Storch with all her might. Eyes clasped shut.

"You okay?"

"Y-yeah," Hecate said, slowly opening her eyes. She blinked in surprise, marveling at the view. She desperately avoided looking down. "...wow..."

"There she is!" Samantha said, pointing.

One open-top truck displayed the cadaver of the beast itself. Propped up on a hastily lashed together wooden tripod, so the villagers could marvel at the kill. The Sphiranx's body already stiffened from rigor mortis. Its tongue hung out of a mouth locked open, blood-stained teeth on full display. Its forehead sported three eye sockets, although the third eye was notably missing. Not that this seemed to bother the crowd.

Three replikas sat on the roof of the truck cabin bearing the beast. Granted positions of honor.

Star 05 and Star 06, mechanical bodies battered and shot, waved dubiously. Trying to maintain a cool demeanor before the crowd. It wouldn't do to look as bad as they felt, in front of everyone. (Another reason Artemis and Hecate elected to bow out, and went ahead of the parade).

At their fore, on one knee, one hand propped on her borrowed power sword, knelt Elster. Green jacket, gray shirt, white chest armor, and brown pants covered in ruddy blood stains.

"..." The replika commander and beast-slayer smiled nervously.

She originally wanted to appear stoic. To her, it seemed like a better fit for the conquering hero the Dark Angels painted her as. Really, she just found the entire situation overwhelming. Even after so many years of acting as leader for her family, she wasn't any better at being the center of attention. Much less for a bunch of strangers. At least if she could maintain a neutral expression, facing forward and looking at no one, it would be easier to feign calmness and control.

Instead, she kept up a quivering, uneasy smile, while trembling hands waved at passers by. It was all she could do to maintain that level of energy. She really didn't feel she projected a heroic mien. So she focused instead on appearing less threatening than a foreign cyborg drenched in blood probably should.

Thankfully, if she gave that impression, the crowd seemed into it. Or else were just really glad to see dead the monster leading their friends and family away in the night.

Look to your right, Circe thought, to Elster.

The replika commander's face shot to the right. Eyes widened, as she spotted her kids.

She smiled more genuinely, at first. Waving joyfully.

"..." Then, her smile faded, as she noticed Artemis was also there. A lump formed in her throat.

Artemis, locking eyes with her mother, frowned too. Her eyes were puffy.

Realizing she had to do something, Elster lowered her hand and gestured. While at the same time mouthing words to go along with it.

Sign language was among the "tongues" she went out of her way to teach the family. Principally for tactical exigencies, in case they lost radio or bioresonant contact. But it served well enough over the roar of the crowd.

"[I'm sorry]," she signed, giving a pained expression.

The Storch's lower lip quivered. Looking on the verge of tears again, she rubbed her eye, then signed back, "[I forgive you]."

It was Elster's turn to be on the verge of tears. She swallowed it, clenching her teeth and stifling a sob.

She smiled, then waved again. Heart filled with bittersweet joy.

 

"I dub thee...Dame Elster, Honorary Knight of the Order."

The deactivated power sword touched both the replika's shoulders, then rose.

Claps and cheers filled the feasting hall, as Elster's face looked up to meet the eyes of the legionary. She glanced around at the cheering knights and servants, shrinking into herself self-consciously.

She spotted her children, standing at the fore of the crowd. Dash, Samantha, Hippolyta, and Circe joined her other children, flown in at the crack of dawn as quickly as possible. Circe stood beside Hecate, hugging her proudly.

"Way to go Mom!" Dash cried, clapping.

Elster smiled, a lump forming in her throat. "..."

"Rise, Slayer of the Mindstealer," said David, gesturing up with his hand. "For you are among equals now."

Elster nodded, rising from her kneeling position. She pressed a fist to her chest, the borrowed black tunic emblazoned with a white symbol of a winged sword. "...thank you, Herr David," she muttered.

"No, thank you," David said, smiling. In only a few hours, the marine's face healed. A testament to his advanced, transhuman physiology. Though it left a wicked set of parallel scars. His right eye remained milky, incorrectly healed. If he intended to have it repaired or replaced, the replika knew not. "Without your timely intervention, we would all have fallen, and Caliban would continue to suffer the predation of that foul beast. Here."

A huge hand sheathed the power sword and held it out to the replika.

"Eh?" Elster said, looking down at the proffered blade wide-eyed. "Is...is this not the blade of that fallen knight?"

"Sadly, he will no longer have use of it," David sighed. "And all knight aspirants these days go on to become Astartes, where a blade fit for baseline humans is woefully undersized. Besides..." He smiled again. "...you've earned it, through your hunt of a Great Beast. As a Knight of the Order, you are justly entitled. Take it."

The replika regarded the marine uneasily, then nodded. She reached out and, reluctantly, accepted the sword. Bowed her head. "...very well. Danke."

Again, the room erupted into clapping and cheers.

"Alas, that there won't be time to initiate you properly, Dame Elster," David said. "As you will be departing so soon."

"Ja," Elster said, nodding. She pressed the sheathed blade to her chest solemnly. "I have many more battles ahead, and cannot tarry much longer. The Nomarch is almost finished with its repairs and upgrades."

"Before you leave, however," David continued, nodding, "there is one final parting gift. Well, not a gift. A trophy you've more than earned." He turned to the side, as a servant approached.

Elster's eyes widened, as a great object was unfolded. "...is that?"

David grinned, picking up the blue-black fur. "Aye, is it," he said, displaying it. "The Mindstealer's body is currently being disposed of properly. It's head, naturally, will join that of other beasts felled by the Order."

He gestured to the upper reaches of the walls encircling the room. Stuffed heads of monsters adorned them, trophies of hunts past.

"...but this," David said, holding the fur up, before handing it off to the servants, "THIS is yours to keep, Dame Elster."

The replika blushed, as her shoulders were draped in the sphiranx's hide. Lengths of fur from its forelimbs extended down her front. She spun, looking over her shoulder as the fur cape billowed.

Hippolyta whistled, clapping again. "Hah! Looking good!"

"Yeah!" Dash yelled.

Elster came to a stop, face growing beet red as the whole room cheered and clapped again.

Slowly, she permitted herself a smile.

She flinched, as the marine clapped a huge, heavy hand on her shoulder. A drinking glass was hurriedly placed in her hand by a servant. She looked at the servant, then up to the marine.

"Now!" David called, raising a goblet. "A toast! To the victors, the fallen, and Caliban!"

The crowd took up their glasses, cups, goblets, and drinking horns. Raised them. "Here here!"

Elster looked down at her glass, smiled, and raised it. "...here, here."

 

"All necessary labors are complete. The Nomarch 06 is ready to fly once again, better than ever. Praise the Omnissiah."

Two red-robed tech priests nodded to one another solemnly.

Diodana looked out the window, at the new and improved Nomarch. The long barrel of a small Lance jutted under the forward lip of the vessel. Another lump of hull plates attached to its undercarriage, behind the lance and in front of the module containing the Nomarch's Warp drive. The new assembly housed a plasma generator, and was festooned with equipment for drawing fuel from gas giants directly, to be processed within.

Fortunately, Diodana mused, not for the first time in the last few weeks, the Eusan system has a gas giant from which to siphon. So, there should be no shortage of fuel, once we return...home...

She turned to her junior. "What will you do now, Oscillias?"

"As soon as our own vessel is ready, I will attempt to return to Mars," Oscillias said.

"Even though it is presently embroiled in civil war, as terrible, if not moreso, than the one plaguing the galaxy at large?" Diodana said. She leaned forward fractionally. "Is that wise?"

"Wise or no, that is all the more reason I must return," he said, nodding. "You have your own obligations, madam. It falls to me to ensure Holy Mars is safe from Hereteks and usurpers."

"You could be killed!" Diodana said, raising her voice. "Either along the way, or when you arrive! It is madness! I forbid it!"

The tech priest's eyes regarded the old woman sadly. He shut them, inhaling. Exhaling. "If it be madness, then so be it. I have judged it to be of paramount importance to the Machine God. I cannot abandon this duty. I am sorry."

Diodana flexed her metal hand, then sighed. "...come here, Oscillias."

Oscillias regarded Diodana curiously, then acquiesced. He stepped forward.

The mother embraced her son. Awkwardly, of course. Neither were terribly experienced in matters of intimacy.

"Ah!" Oscillias gasped, feeling the pressure of limbs encircle him. "...m-mada-"

"Do not perish, Oscillias," Diodana said. She sucked air raggedly through her ventilator, before with effort mastering herself. She hugged him close. "I forbid it. You must survive...my son."

Moisture accumulated in the man's exposed eyes. He clasped them shut, a tear running down his cheek. He hugged his mother back. "...I...I shall...mother."

"...good," Diodana said, nodding. Her four photo-receptors went dark, as she lowered her head against his shoulder. "See that you do. Or I shall be very cross with you."

Mother and son stood, hugging one another, against a backdrop of stars.

 

"My lord, I've found something."

The marine in white robe and hood looked away from regarding the reflection of the moon on the placid lake. He watched the baseline human wade ashore, by the light of his shoulder-mounted lamp. "Report," he said.

"I apologize, my lord," the diver said, raising his goggles. Moonlight glistened off his damp wetsuit. "Any plaster disks elude me, sir. However, I found this." He raised a fist and unfurled his fingers.

The orb glistened blue in the moonlight. No, not glistened. Glowed.

The Astartes stared from behind his helmet lenses. Slowly, he extended a hand. It was deposited in his palm. He raised it close, to examine it.

"T'was the strangest thing, my lord," the diver said. "It just...sparkled out to me, despite all the dark. Even afore I got my light on it. Ne'er seen a thing alike it."

"..."

The marine stared at the eye, unmoving. He...listened.

"...my lord?"

Helmeted head turned, reluctantly, to the baseline human standing in the water. "...you have done well, lad."

"Ah!" the diver smiled, pressing a fist to his chest. "It's an honor, my lord. And that's the G-...that's the honest truth, sir." He touched his goggles, nervous after almost catching himself acknowledging outlawed divinity. "Don't worry, sir. I'll find that disk, afore long."

"That won't be necessary," said the marine, looking away. He deposited the sphiranx's eye in a pouch at his belt. "Your services are no longer required."

"...sir?"

"After all..."

At once, the marine unholstered his bolt pistol.

BAM.

The diver's body sank to its knees, then splashed roughly into the lake water. Venting scarlet blood, turned dark in the night, into the waters. Shards of skull, sent airborne, plopped unceremoniously to the drink a second later.

"...no one can know about this," the Fallen said, bolt pistol billowing smoke into the moonlit air.

He holstered his weapon and turned. Stomped toward the treeline.

He paused, fishing the eye from his belt. Looked at it again. Enraptured by its blue glow.

"..."

Gauntleted fingers closed around the eye. His eye. He trudged on, pressing the prize close to his chest.

"...not even Luther."

---

"Ariane!?"

The gestalt sat up groggily inside her brown blanket-burrito, rubbing her eyes. Licked her dry lips.

"...ah..." Ariane yawned, cracking one bleary eye open. "G'morning, Elster..."

Hssss.

Twin hooves stepped from the calibration pod, clanking on the metal floor.

Elster stared down at the gestalt, eyes wide.

"...Ari...how are..." She shook her head. Looked up and over her shoulder. "Did...did you sleep here last night?"

"Ugh..." Ariane groaned, rubbing her back. "...hoo...well yeah. Since you got up in the night and left." She smiled up at her lover, still drowsy. "I wanted to be here when my Ellie woke up."

The replika chewed her lip, looking away. Rubbed her hands together.

Had Ariane...awakened in the "night"? Was that even possible? Time didn't pass for Ariane when Elster wasn't around.

Or, at least, it wasn't supposed to pass.

"...is...something wrong?"

Elster shot to attention. "N-no," she lied, forcing a neutral expression to suppress the panic she was feeling. She frowned, and squatted. "Are you okay?"

"Mmhmm..." Ariane stretched her arms over her head. "...nn...nn...ah!" she grunted. Rubbed her neck. "A little stiff."

"Well, that's because you slept on the hard floor all night," Elster chided. "You can't go doing that. What if you get sick again? It's just us out here, after all."

"Eh?" the gestalt blinked, rubbing sand from her eyes. She frowned, looking to the floor. She looked up guiltily. "Sorry, I...I just...wanted to see you..."

Elster shut her eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled. Opened them. Smiled.

"Come on," the replika said, reaching out a hand. "Let's get you something to eat."

"Okay," Ariane nodded, taking her lover's hand. Allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She winced, taking a step off the blanket. Shivered. "Ooh!"

"Cold, huh?" Elster said, locking arms with the gestalt. "That's what you get for walking around without your shoes."

"Shut up," Ariane said, elbowing the replika in the side. She smiled. "...but thank you for worrying about me."

"Thank you for missing me when I'm gone," Elster said. She led her lover to the door of Maintenance. "...and please, for my sake. Don't go sleeping on the floor anymore. Okay?"

"Hah hah," Ariane laughed, leaning her head on Elster's shoulder, "Okay."

Before they departed, Elster glanced behind her at the storage container hiding the mail slot.

She gulped, dismayed at how close Ariane was to discovering it by accident.

Chapter 61: Collaboration

"Hmm...that's nice..."

Rice steamed in the electric rice cooker. An open sack sat on the counter, grains not yet emptied into a clear plastic storage container normally stored in the cupboard above.

The gestalt shifted her weight from one foot to the other, standing before the cooker with a bowl and broad spoon in front of her. She leaned her head back, luxuriating in every touch by replika fingers. "...mmm..."

"Does this make you feel better?" Elster whispered, corners of her mouth turned up slightly. She kneaded her lover's back, aiming to massage away troublesome knots.

"So much better," Ariane breathed, shutting her eyes. A shuddering exhale. "...oh, Ellie...you really know how to push my buttons..."

"Funny," Elster said, amused. "And here I thought only you knew how to push mine."

The gestalt giggled, pressing wrist to her mouth. Color rushed to her face. "Your buttons are nicely labeled, LSTR-512. With nice white spots. Makes them easy to find."

Elster gave a short, wheezing laugh.

Ariane turned around and pressed her hands to the replika's chest. Leaned in. "Kiss me."

"With pleasure," Elster said, leaning down.

Their lips met. Lingered. They drew the encounter out.

"..."

"...ah..." Ariane said, pulling away reluctantly. She shut her eyes, smiling. "Love you!"

"...I..." Elster said, smile fading. "...love you...too..."

She stared down at Ariane. Her lover. Her goddess. The one she would, and had, delivered untold souls to a fate she dared not contemplate. The one she'd do anything for. Ariane Yeong.

Elster most certainly loved Ariane. That was not in dispute. Every moment with the woman was like...coming up from dark waters, to breathe fresh air. That Elster loved Ariane was an objective fact stated for the record.

Even if every meeting was tinged with more than a little stress. Hiding the truth - pretending nothing had changed - was taxing. Even then, it was worth it. Elster told herself that.

But...

Ariane opened her eyes. Red eyes that stared like the dunes of Kitezh...or pools of blood. She regarded Elster curiously. "...Elster?"

Elster frowned, looking through her girlfriend.

For a brief moment, down on Caliban, she had been ready to kill Ariane.

An illusion, of course. But in the moment, it felt terribly real. Even when logic and her own...sixth sense screamed that it was a trick, her heart hadn't been sure. Her heart was fooled. It wanted to believe. Wanted to believe they were finally reunited, in the "real" world.

It would have been the hardest thing she'd ever done. But she would have pulled that trigger. Because she knew, intellectually, it was a trick.

...until she got distracted. Until the sphiranx changed tactics, and showed Elster her.

"...is...something wrong?"

"Eh?" Elster jerked to attention. A bead of sweat formed on her cheek. "What?"

"You were looking really serious there for a second," Ariane said, blinking. She frowned. "Are...you feeling okay?" She reached up and pressed the back of her hand to the replika's forehead.

"Oh, uh...yes," Elster said, allowing the gestalt to check her temperature. She forced a small smile. "Yes, I'm...I'm fine. I was just...miles away."

Ding.

"Oh!" Ariane said, turning around. "Rice is ready!"

"Heh heh, yeah," Elster muttered, taking a step back. "Right."

The replika leaned against the counter to the side, watching Ariane scoop rice from the cooker and pat it down to a loose ball in her bowl. She walked to the fridge and drizzled soy sauce on from a bottle. "You sitting down, Ellie?" Ariane said, looking over her shoulder.

"Y-yeah," Elster nodded. "Let me just grab my breakfast." She turned to another cabinet and opened it. Fished a sealed pack of hardtack from a box stuffed inside.

Storing it this way was easier than traveling downstairs to storage for each meal. A trick that took an embarrassing number of years into their original voyage to learn. Elster, of course, implemented it the moment she remembered, after the...whirlwind of excitement over their "reunion" died down.

She looked over her shoulder. Watched the gestalt sit down at the tiny table. The replika frowned.

Upon returning to the Nomarch, Elster had opened her personal computer, checking the data backup for her memory module. Dived deep into her collected files. Including the files pulled from...that place that, perhaps, was hell.

"Even my hair is slowly turning white." That's what the last entry in Alina's diary said. Further, that Alina felt herself becoming blurred with...someone else. Memories of a different life, a different time.

Elster's hand gripped the hardtack. If the barely edible slab wasn't as solid as Eusan Nation culinary science could make it, she might have snapped it in two.

Step, step, step.

Ariane, spoonful of rice halfway to her mouth, flinched. Looked down at the arms folded around her. "...Elster?"

"..." The replika, knelt down and embracing her lover from behind, took a shuddering breath.

"Is...is everything okay?" the gestalt said, leaning her head back to look upside down at her lover.

It took all the replika's self-control to restrain a sob building in her throat.

Alina..., Elster thought, staring at the gestalt's white hair. Then, at the red eyes that rolled back to look at her. Are you...in there? Are you aware, in this moment? Or...did you forget you ever were Alina, when Ariane...?

"...Ellie?"

She couldn't hold it back any more. Elster sobbed, taking a wet, gasping breath. "...I..."

Frowning, Ariane raised a pale hand. Pressed it to Elster's cheek. "...it's okay," she whispered. "Whatever it is, it's okay. I'm here."

"Ngh!" Elster whimpered, pressing her face to the woman's white hair. She sobbed, hugging the gestalt. Not letting go. Tears soaked into the white locks.

"There, there," Ariane said, stroking the replika's arm with one hand and the back of her head with the other. "Let it out."

Elster let go long enough to sink to her knees, then hugged Ariane again. Buried her face in her lover's back.

I'm sorry, Alina, she thought, every ounce of self-control now bent just to stopping herself from saying it out loud. I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner. I...I never should have left you, back them. Back on Sierpinkski...back on Vineta...I...we should never have let you go. Maybe then, this wouldn't have...

A tiny voice in the back of her mind chided her for her foolishness. Tamped down on the flurry of 'What If's or 'Might Have Been's.

Diodana's words entered her head. "Counterfactual Thinking, no matter how intense, thorough, or well-reasoned, cannot alter past events. Obsessing over what one might have done, in absence of the benefit of hindsight, only brings needless pain. That which is, IS. Only the future can be changed."

Elster's entire body trembled. Though the horror and grief mounted, knotting her stomach in a tight bow...there was nothing she could do. What could she do, if Alina Seo was just...subsumed into Ariane Yeong? Was there anything left inside? Was there any difference? Was not the Alina Seo that Lilith Itou loved not a different person even than the one LSTR-S2301 loved? Was LSTR-512, Blade of Arkifane, not already different than LSTR-512, subordinate scout officer of the Penrose mission?

"..."

Intellectualizing, while maddening and painful, at least helped Elster pull out of the emotional hole she fell into.

She put her hooves beneath her and stood up. Arm rose to rub away the tears.

"Feel better?" Ariane said, pushing out and rising to her feet. Turned to her lover.

"...y-yeah..." Elster mumbled, nodding. Lip quivering. "...hic..."

The gestalt reached up, wicking away a tear with her thumb. Her smile, and voice, were soft. "Want to talk about it?"

"I..." Elster huffed, placing a hand on the gestalt's. Resting them both on her cheek. "...I just...remembered something..."

"...from your gestalt life?" Ariane said, smile fading. She stroked Elster's cheek affectionately.

Elster just nodded. "..."

Ariane put on a warm smile again. "Well, we can talk about it when you're ready, if you want. Is that okay?"

"S-sure," Elster said. A lump formed in her throat, as her lips quivered. Despite herself, she leaned in and hugged her girlfriend again.

"Good girl," Ariane cooed, returning the hug. Hand patted the replika's back. She rested her chin on Elster's shoulder. "You can feel sad if you need to. It's okay."

"I love you..." Elster mumbled, eyes shut, "...Ariane..."

"Love you too, Elster," Ariane cooed. She closed her eyes, rubbing Elster's back. "Always will."

Elster cracked her eyes open, and looked at the floor.

She did, absolutely, love Ariane. She was sure of it.

...and if you're in there too, Alina, Elster thought, furrowing her brow resolutely, I...we will just have to love Ariane twice as much. Love enough for both of you.

She hugged her lover harder. As hard as she dared, given her mechanical strength.

...and yet...

"..." Elster frowned. She couldn't be entirely sure Alina WAS inside Ariane. If such an overwriting of Alina's being was even what happened. She couldn't be sure any of what she experienced on S23 Sierpinkski "really" happened. Or if it was all a terrible dream.

Elster clenched a fist.

When the war was over...Elster had to go back. She had to go back to Leng, to see for herself.

---

"So we're agreed, then? This is the best candidate?"

A group stood around a table in the replika workshop. Normal tools and materials used for creation were hauled to the side, to dedicate full attention to the samples on display. One by one, jars were removed from the table and stowed on a cart, to be remanded back to organ storage as backups.

Waste not, after all.

On a bench nearby, a custom-built chassis of unusual scale was in the final stages of construction. Its materials less than ideal, given official specifications. But of the highest quality that could reasonably be derived from the resources at hand. The Eusan Empire machines had to be upgraded multiple times over the years, both for quality-of-life improvements, and in furtherance of this very project. The body afforded everything they could give.

All it wanted for was a brain.

Daisy chewed her finger, eyeing the jar in front of them. "...I've checked its viability twice," she said. "Are you three satisfied?"

"I'm the least experienced at implanting neural patterns in this room," Isis said. She side-eyed. "With one obvious exception. No offense."

"None taken," Adler shrugged, neutrally. Hands clasped behind his back.

Elster eyed the man. Watched his hands wring nervously, where he thought none could see. Saw him glance, every few seconds, at the brain in front of him.

"I think the brain could probably be more optimal, given the specs on file," Circe said, tapping the table pensively. "But we'd need to grow a whole new batch, just to 'reroll the dice', as it were."

"We don't have time for that," Adler said quickly.

"Not entirely true," Elster said, rubbing thumb and index finger together. She saw Adler glare at her from the corner of her eye. "We could keep trying until we've got the closest brain possible to the admittedly exacting standards of the Eusan Nation..."

Alder's jaw tightened. Eyed Elster with leashed frustration. Still, he bit his tongue, maintaining as neutral an expression as he could manage. Professionalism demanded nothing less.

I know it's hard, Elster thought, eyes glancing briefly at him. You've been waiting so long. And you're so close. I empathize.

She looked down at the brain. "...but of course, that's not very helpful for our situation," Elster continued. "Xana is fast approaching. And if a FLKR unit will be of greatest help during this civil war, it'll be there."

Adler exhaled tension from his nose. He shut his eyes, permitting himself a small smile. "Well put, commander," he said. He looked down at the brain again. "Will we proceed?"

"We'll need to, as soon as possible," Elster nodded, rubbing her temple. "Once instantiated, she'll need as much time as we can give to...adapt to living. The Nation records never bothered to explain how they prep a newly created Falke post-creation." She mused, given the secrecy, stakes, and nature of the unit, it was likely a deeply personal process. "Nor can we know how she'll react to the Ruinstorm..."

At least Elster could reasonably count on the Falke being obedient. Assuming Elster could successfully "master" her, like she did the one on Heimat. With less bloody results, hopefully.

A twinge of guilt boiled to the surface. She tamped it back down.

"While I'd prefer to have the fifth KLBR unit on hand to assist," Circe said, stroking her cheek, "we'd need to get her acclimatized to the Ruinstorm, before we could proceed with neural pattern implantation. Even Hecate I'm a little unsure about."

"So long as she follows directions, it shouldn't be that much of a problem," Isis said, looking to her mother. "We'll need to keep her in sync, but it should be doable."

"Do you need me in there with you?" Daisy said, crossing her arms. "I...don't think I'll have the raw power to contribute."

Elster closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and tipped her head back. I'm not really all that more 'powerful' than Daisy, in terms of bioresonance. But I'm also the most experienced implanter on the ship. Plus...I'm not sure. Have I been getting stronger? It's hard to tell, since Circe took over Kolibri creation duties.

"Perhaps having as many 'adepts' on hand would be advantageous?" Adler said, gesturing with a hand vaguely at Daisy. He looked at Elster. "Simply to maximize the psychic force involved?"

"Hrmm..." Elster grunted, tapping a finger on her arm. "We've never coordinated like this before on an implantation. More participants might make things...complicated."

"Hmm...we could try doing a test run on multi-adept implantation," Isis said. She looked over her shoulder. "We need to get Kolibri 05 up and running anyway."

Adler shut his eyes, sucking in air. "...I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make absolutely sure," he sighed. He looked to Circe. "How soon can that be started?"

"Brain's ready to go," Circe said, leaning on the table.

"The chassis is almost ready," Daisy said. She tapped her lips pensively. "...yes...yes, I think if I start immediately, I can get it ready to accept the brain by..." She raised a finger and tapped the air in front of her, muttering. "...1200 tomorrow, if I do an all-nighter."

"You don't have to do that, Daisy," Elster said, frowning.

"Yes she does," Adler said, frowning.

"No, she doesn't," Elster retorted, glaring at him.

"No, no, it's fine," Daisy said, nodding. "We need all the time we can get." She looked at Adler. "Admin, I'm going to need you to move the schedule around. Tulip or maybe Rose will need to take over work on the Device while I'm preoccupied with the Kolibri."

"Thank you," Adler nodded. "I will make the arrangements at once."

"Oh, that thing?" Circe said, tilting her head to one side. "The one for the Penrose?"

"The mystery project?" Isis said, turning to Daisy.

"Yes," Daisy nodded. She looked to Elster. "If...that's alright?"

"I'll be there as well," Elster said, nodding. "So it should be fine. Plus, it might be useful for more of the Aras to become familiar with its principles firsthand. We'll need to recreate that tech going forward."

Moreover, Elster thought, looking down at the table ruefully, Vashtorr will be pleased at our industriousness and experimentation. But that can't be helped.

 

"Machine is on. We are connected. Everyone link up."

Bodies crowded around the calibration pod. Two participants wore the now ubiquitous helmets. The bleeding edge of Eusan Empire replika science, before the state's violent destruction by the Imperium.

Originally, there was just the one helmet. But schematics were left in paper for constructing more, as the Nomarch mission needed to be fully self-sufficient. Circe, who headed the effort, wore one. Elster, who generally needed its bioresonance-boosting capabilities, wore the other.

None had really considered it necessary to have more than two - a main and a backup - prior to making plans for FLKR creation. It still wasn't, yet. The Kolibris could link with each other just fine.

Elster placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Then the other hand took Shahrazad's. Isis held Circe's other shoulder, hand joined with Hecate.

Circe's hands rested on the glass of the calibration pod. A blond duplicate of herself rested inside.

"Is everyone ready?" Circe said, looking around. "Sound off mentally."

Each participant pinged back.

"Alright," Circe said, nodding. She looked down at the subject. "Let's begin."

The quartet closed their eyes, and focused.

For the experienced bioresonant adepts among them, the process was familiar. Shifting perception from the physical plane of existence, and past the digital one, into the mental. The Kolibris in general did this among one another constantly. But now bent through the medium of the implantation machine into the crossroads between themselves, the replika subject, and the Nomarch's central database.

It was a most peculiar experience, to do so together. For a moment, the space seemed...crowded.

It's...a little tight, isn't it? Isis thought, mind pressed up against her sisters.

Agreed, Elster thought, mental hands bunched upon against the boundaries of the crossroads. We need to expand our work area.

Right, Circe thought, nodding. On three, push outward, everyone. Eins, Zwei, Drei.

Imagining hands pressed against solid walls, the replikas pushed. Braced back-to-back for leverage. Gradually, the boundaries of the pocket space expanded.

Elster felt she wasn't contributing nearly as much as the others. She didn't expect to. Even Hecate was a stronger bioresonant than herself, albeit still learning. It went without saying.

Didn't diminish feelings of inadequacy, however. Or that Elster wasn't pulling her weight.

Okay, I think that's enough breathing room, Circe thought, dusting off her mental hands. Let's get to work. Everyone has their assignment.

Hecate wandered to Elster, as the elder replika took the neonate by the hand and led her into the digital realm of the Nomarch's database.

Can you read its menus? Elster thought.

Y-yeah, Hecate thought. It's a little...squigly...

You'll get used to it, with practice, Elster thought. She pointed. Navigate us in. Directory, N-Patterns, Nation, Favorites, KLBR.

They watched mental recreations of digital interfaces, as Hecate scrolled down through a list.

Found it, Hecate thought, pointing.

Good. Elster tapped the file and brought it up. This should be easy. Grasp it, and connect it to the main work area.

It took a moment to wrap her head around the metaphor for it, but once she did, she brought the reservoir up. Like raising a well up to the surface.

When they returned, the crossroads looked quite different. No longer an undifferentiated void, but the roof of a tall tower. Shahrazad walked the periphery of the roof, summoning twinkling lights to inhabit the sky. The lights reflected off a placid ocean below. So that for all the world, it looked like an infinite sea of stars.

To one side of the hexagonal tower, a basin was prepared. Hecate drew the neural pattern up, and watched as the basin filled with water.

Good work, Elster thought to Hecate. She turned to Shahrazad. You too.

Shahrazad shrugged. I thought we could use some scenery.

Here's the mind, Circe thought, as she and Isis returned, conjuring a plinth in the center of the tower roof.

Isis carefully placed the fishbowl on the plinth. It remained empty, save a shallow puddle at the bottom, on which the basic rudiments of cognition wallowed like mudskippers and crabs.

Let's begin transference, Circe thought, gesturing everyone to the basin. Like we planned, now.

The five women circled the basin, and held their hands out. Conjured a solid iron bowl, not unlike a wok. Holding it together, they tipped it to one side.

Something swimming in the basin waters squirmed and lashed out with flagellum.

Ah!Hecate thought, recoiling. She removed her hands.

Don't let go, Circe thought, furrowing her brow at her junior. Hold it again. Keep your hands away from the water.

Don't be afraid, little one, Elster thought, motioning to the bowl. It can only hurt a little bit. Her gestalt pattern is just as scared of you as you are of her. That's why she's lashing out.

Hecate gulped, on the physical plane, then grasped the iron bowl once more.

The edge slid into the water, and the reservoir filled. The totality of the person the KLBR gestalt once was, contained within their dipping wok.

As they tipped it upright, Circe raised a hand. Lid now.

Elster and Isis raised their hands as well, working together to conjure an iron lid. As the liquid in the bowl began to writhe violently, they plopped it down. Sealing the ornery neural pattern inside. The lid rattled once or twice, but did not budge.

Alright, now to bring it over, Circe thought, nodding. Eins, zwei, drei. Lift!

Between four Kolibri and Elster, raising the container from the basin was child's play. Slowly, they shuffled toward the center of the roof, Elster standing taller to step around the basin.

The bowl rattled all the way over. The neural pattern furiously, but impotently, tried to escape.

With a clink, they rested the iron wok on the edge of the fishbowl.

Hecate, thought Circe, nodding, do the honors of lifting the lid. Everyone else, when she does, tip. We go on three.

The team nodded heads, then assumed their positions.

Eins...zwei...drei!

Hecate, gulping, lifted the lid up toward the fishbowl side. Everyone else tipped the iron bowl over.

Seeming, perhaps, to recognize its new home - distinctly familiar, a correct level of bioresonant capacity - the liquid spilled easily into the fishbowl. Eagerly. Swarmed out of it, as if they barely needed to lift at all. In seconds, the iron wok was empty, and the fishbowl full.

They allowed the container to dissipate into ether, and stood around the glass enclosure. Watched the waters shimmer with the glint of many colorful scaled fish. Memories, skills, hopes, dreams. All that the Kolibri gestalt was, laid bare.

...this...is us..., Hecate thought, looking wide-eyed down at the swimming fish. It's all us.

It's all of her, Elster said, crossing her arms. You are each your own. Built on this framework, but allowed to develop as individuals. It's a privilege few replikas were granted, back in the Eusan Nation. The party wanted a standard template. Consistent, predictable, pliable. Obedient. All the power and skills, none of the capacity for personal growth and change. You all, including this one, will go on to become what She was denied.

Licking her lips, Hecate reached a hand out. Seeking to touch one of the fish.

Circe clapped a hand on her daughter's. Don't, she thought, sternly. Leave it be.

But there's so many answers to who we were! Hecate thought, frowning. It would be so easy, to...

It's like Elster said, Circe thought. Our gestalt is not us. We get to be our own people. To peek deliberately would be to violate that essential barrier of privacy She is owed. There are few mercies left to afford her, anymore. She smiled, and stroked Hecate's hand gently. In time, our gestalt's memories will return to you on their own, bit by bit. There's no sense rushing it.

Moreover, thought Shahrazad, it is a privilege to not know. Because then, you get the joy of learning for yourself. Preserve this mystery. Once revealed, the truth cannot be buried again. The genie cannot be put back in the bottle.

Hecate reluctantly retracted her hand. ...fine...okay...

Let your gestalt rest, Elster thought, smiling warmly. Take it from me. They all had their baggage, our gestalts. Let them sleep. We can't give them justice for what the Nation, or life itself, did to them. We CAN grant them the peace of forgetting. We can grant HER peace.

Since we're on the subject... Isis thought, raising a finger.

Yes. The final stage. Circe cupped her hands and raised them.

The others followed suit. They drew upon the water of Lethe, black and cool.

One by one, they lowered their cupped hands and released. Casting black into the fishbowl, until it was murky and obscure. Only the occasional shine of a fish that drew too close to the surface betrayed that there was anything within at all.

They stared at the fishbowl for a time, basking in their team effort.

Hecate chewed her lip, physically. What...happens now? If she wakes, will she feel pain? She looked down at the fishbowl, frowning. I wouldn't wish that on her.

Elster tapped her cheek pensively.

I...have an idea about that.

 

"...ngh...wh-what...?"

The newborn winced, cracking her eyes open. She had to squint, as florescent lights glared down on her from above. She raised a shaky hand in front of her face, to block the glare.

It took a moment to realize someone was trying to talk to her, over the roar outside.

"...s-say again?" the newborn mumbled.

"...I said 'Guten Morgan'," said a wild-haired figure. Her head popped into view from above. "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, my little one."

"...b-birth...day?" The newborn blinked.

"That's right," the woman said. The newborn felt rather than saw her warm smile. "Welcome to the world."

The newborn felt fingers stroke her hair. She realized, with surprise, the woman's hands were holding her head. "Eh?" She reached back, fingers touching first the woman's wrists, then a cool, soft surface behind her head.

It took her a moment to realize her head was resting on the woman's lap. "...who...are you?"

"My name is Circe," the woman said, smiling warmly again. "I'd like to say I was your mother, because I implanted your neural pattern. But this time, I had help."

Three more silhouetted figures leaned into view. Similar proportions, but different hair styles. One had similarly messy hair to Circe, though the light filtering through the strands gave it a warmer, auburn cast. The other two's hair were black, like Circe's. But one had a short, bobbed haircut, kept neat. And the other had curly hair that dipped past her shoulders.

"Hallo," said the bob cut woman. "My name is Isis. It's nice to meet you."

"Guten Morgan," said the woman with long, curly hair. "I'm Shahrazad. Sorry about the noise."

The auburn haired woman looked nervously away, rubbing her hands together. "G-guten Morgan," she whispered, "I'm...Hecate. I-I didn't contribute much..."

"Nonsense," Circe said, looking over to Hecate. "You all did very well." She looked up. "Oh, there's someone else you need to meet. Elster! She's awake."

Someone out of the newborn's vision chuckled softly. "Yeah, I gathered."

The child flinched. As the shock of...well, being wore off, the replika became more cognizant of, not merely all the hands in physical contact with her, but that touched her mind. Held her, cradled her. The replika probed the edges of this contact, and discovered her mind was encased in something akin to a cocoon. Or perhaps a thick, soft blanket.

Given the noise blaring "outside", she suddenly felt glad for the ministrations of these women. Her..."mothers", for lack of a better term. Her mind gratefully nuzzled into her cocoon.

So when the much taller, more mature-looking woman sat at her side and leaned into view, it came as a surprise to the newborn. "Ah!" she gasped, startled. When all the people she knew were in mental contact from the start, a newcomer was...bizarre. As if she didn't expect there to BE people who weren't part of the collective. "...wh-who are...?"

"Hallo, mein kind," the woman said. Her hair was short, and her shoulders both broad and muscular. "Call me Elster. I see you're doing well. It isn't too loud for you, is it?"

"...eh..." the newborn gaped, blinking. "...n-no, it's...I mean, it's loud out...side...?" She scowled, rubbing her head. "I'm...fine...I guess..."

"Good, good," Elster said, nodding. "I'm glad. I was afraid bringing you about with a portable calibration setup wouldn't work. But waking you in the meditation room seems to be doing the trick."

Hecate crossed her arms, pouting. "...could have done this for me..." she mumbled.

"We didn't know how bad it would be for you," Isis said, reaching a hand out and mussing Hecate's hair. "We're sorry."

"Hmph," Hecate grunted, wincing under the headpats. She looked down at the newborn. "...just be glad you woke up in here, instead of out there. Lucky."

"...o...okay?" the newborn said, making a bewildered face. "I...don't...know how to...respond to that?"

Circe stroked the girl's cheek. "You'll...understand soon enough, when you take your first steps outside. For right now, we're just going to get you ready in a safe environment."

"...why?" the newborn said, eyes widening fractionally. "Why is it not...safe?"

The replikas around her sat and fidgeted nervously.

Elster sighed. "...that...comes later. Just relax." She tapped her cheek pensively. "Ah. We're forgetting something."

Circe sat at attention. "Ah! Right!" She looked down at the newborn. "Sweetie, can you state your designation for us? That is, your name?"

The newborn blinked, eyes wandering around to the various shadowed faces about her. "...I..."

She shut her eyes and pursed her lips. She frowned. I didn't study for this, she thought, with mounting concern. Old, buried anxiety bubbled to the surface. She furrowed her brows. Wait...no, I can't have studied for this. I was just born...right?

"...take you time," Circe said, smiling nervously. "There's no rush."

Her mind snapped back to attention. The newborn focused. Her name. Her name.

It really wasn't so difficult a problem, when she stopped treating it like an exam. It was simplicity itself. She cracked her eyes open. "...KLBR-N0605?"

The shorter women, aside from Circe, all clapped softly.

"Unit designation implantation successful," Elster said, nodding.

"Yes!" Circe said, squeezing 05's cheeks. "Good job!"

Face being squished, the newborn frowned. "...I'm not a kid, you know," she groaned, narrowing her eyes.

The other Kolibris smiled nervously.

Elster just tilted her head to the side. The newborn couldn't see her face, and the woman wasn't exactly looped into the mental circuit with the others. Not really. But just from body language, the newborn got the distinct impression that head tilt meant, "Aren't you, though?"

The newborn looked to the side, blushing. "Nnngh..."

Rising to her hooves, Elster stretched. Her fingers brushed against the ceiling. "Well, now that this is settled, are you all good here with 05?"

"I think so," Circe said, nodding. "Were you going back to work on that device?"

"No, I'm thinking the Falke's body," Elster said, rolling her back muscles. She leaned her neck to the side. "Now that we have our proof of concept, Adler is going to want to proceed directly with her."

"...wait..." Kolibri 05 said, looking around. "What's this about a 'proof of concept'? Is...is that all I am?"

"No, no! It's not like that!" Circe said, leaning over with concern.

"Don't worry, kid," Isis said, sardonically. "You were on the docket for a while, same as her." She hooked a thumb at Hecate.

"There's just...a lot going on," Shahrazad said, touching the red tips of her index fingers together. "You were...the most convenient opportunity to...experiment."

"Don't take it personally," Hecate said. She leaned over, pressing a hand to the side of her mouth. Whispered, "I got an 'experimental' birth too. At least yours was less stressful."

Kolibri 05 looked at the other Kolibri's with narrowed eyes, but shut them. "...hmph...fine..." she sighed.

"Every birth is experimental," Elster said, folding her arms. "You're always learning something new, with each one. Some are just...more dramatic than others."

"..."

An awkward silence stretched on for a moment, before Elster turned around. "Anyway, good luck with this. I have to go. So much to do..."

"So little time to do it," Circe said, chuckling. "We know. And hey, tell Hippolyta to swing around, when she's got time."

"Sure."

An automatic door hissed open. From the newborn's perspective, the room became significantly louder, as the seal against the din outside was broken.

It only lasted a moment, before the door slid shut again. But still...

Kolibri 05 shivered. It sounded like a tempest mixed with a bloody murder out there. Not in the physical, but in the mental. Thousands of voices, of the dead or the never born.

And they howled. They howled like hell.

Notes:

One day, I will learn to stop adding more random replika named characters to an already bloated cast. Today is not that day.

Chapter 62: A Will Fathoms Deep

"...you don't...think it looks a bit...showy?"

The air buzzed with the sound of a sewing machine, framed in beige plastic. A half dozen Eules fretted around. Carrying cloth accessories, pinning, and stepping up and down from stools.

Vanessa shrugged, pulling a last pin from her teeth. "You picked it, sweetie," she said, pinning two cuts of fabric together. "There. Let's take a look."

Uneasily, the subject hiked up her long dress and stepped to the back of the tiny, crowded sewing room.

There was nothing for it, of course. The mirror wouldn't show her unless she stood far back. She was simply too tall otherwise.

"..."

The Storch gulped, staring at her reflection. "...I..."

Eules crowded to either side of the figure, looking between her and the mirror. Rubbed hands together and chewed lips. Nervously gauged the Storch's face, to divine whether their work thus far was satisfactory.

"..."

Looking up and down, Vanessa elbowed the Storch's leg. "Well? What do you think?"

Ishtar blushed, pinning her hands to her waist. Eyes poured over herself in the mirror. "It...it looks...I look..."

Slowly, her lips curled into a giddy smile. "...p-pretty good..." Ishtar breathed, hand rubbing her arm. "...d-don't I?"

Each Eule in turn smiled, giggling and whispering exuberantly among themselves.

"I think you look fantastic!" Vanessa said, patting the Storch on the back of the leg. "You'll look even better when we've got it fitted better. Maybe get some more accents and accessories." The Eule stroked her chin pensively. "If we can pick up some silk somewhere, we could make a pair of gloves...I hope we have enough dye to match the dress."

Ishtar extended her arm, staring at the back of her hand with fingers splayed. Imagined the black polyethaline covered in red silk. "..."

"Now," Vanessa said, raising an index finger, "get on your knees. We need to test the adaptive length."

"R-right!" Ishtar said, hiking up the dress again. This time to above her knees. "..."

 

Knock, knock.

Hsssss.

"Oi, Ish. You in here?"

Meryl looked to the door from where she carried cloth in her arms. "She's here, Hip."

"Oh, good." The elder Storch ducked her head, placing a hand on the top of the doorway. Hippolyta popped into the sewing room. "Ish, you missed shooting prac...eh?"

Her eyes lit up, viewing the circus in the sewing room. Viewing her junior in strange new apparel.

"Hey Hip, what's wrong?"

Breach ducked her head, squeezing in behind Hippolyta as the elder Storch stepped further inside to make room. The Star rubbed the top of her head automatically, a habit won from too many unfortunate collisions with low doorways. "Hey Ish, is something...wrong...?"

She froze, eyes going wide.

"B-breach?" Ishtar mumbled, freezing up.

The Eules, looking over to the door, stepped aside. Some smirked, knowingly.

Ishtar stood on her knees, still casually towering whole head heights over the Eules surrounding her. The maroon dress clung loosely to her frame, a concession to the fitting process before they would inevitably be adjusted to complement her figure. The skirt, previously hanging straight, was folded accordion-like. Held in place by a series of six maroon straps, tied into ribbons at the base of a wide, black waistband.

She pressed a thumb nervously to her lips. Turned her face to the side, color rushing to her face. "...I..."

"Wow," Hippolyta whistled, grinning. "Didn't expect this kind of thing from one of our model." She stepped over, patting her junior on the shoulder. "But damn, if you don't look good! Good job!"

Jerking her head to her elder, Ishtar mumbled, "Th-thank you, Hip. But it was all the girls here. They worked really hard on it..."

"I mean yeah, they sure did," Hippolyta said, smiling around at the Eules. "Good work, team."

The Eules smiled and giggled.

"Thank you, Hip!" Vanessa said, patting the elder Storch's thigh.

"...but I reiterate..." Hippolyta said, smiling to her junior. "...you look great in that dress." She turned her head to the Star. "Isn't that right, Breach?"

The room looked to the Star, and found her stunned.

"..." Breach stared at Ishtar. Without her face mask, her gaping mouth would be exposed. Instead, her flushed face would need to suffice in displaying her feelings. "...r-right..." She gulped. "Ish, you...l-look...i-i-incredible..."

"…" Ishtar frowned, pressing a hand to her cheek. "...y-you really think so?"

The two replikas seemed to forget anyone else was present. They just stared quietly. Faces red, eyes drinking each other in.

"..."

Looking between them, Meryl walked over and tapped Hippolyta on the leg. When the Storch ripped her bewildered face away and leaned down, the Eule whispered in her ear.

"...oh!" Hippolyta breathed, eyebrows shooting up. She grinned. "Right. Let's do it."

Meryl walked over to Ishtar and patted the Storch's arm. "Ish," she said, grinning suggestively, "don't you have something to tell Breach?"

"Eh?" Ishtar said, flinching. She looked down at the Eule. "...r-right here?"

"Y-you do?" Breach breathed, flinching as well.

"Yeah she does" Hippolyta said, sidling up to Breach. Smiling mischievously. "Ish, why don't you pop that question? Since you got all dolled up and everything?"

The junior Storch swallowed, then reluctantly rose to her hooves. Her pinned up dress swayed awkwardly, exposing her long legs. She didn't care. She slowly walked over to the Star. "..."

"..." Breach's lips quivered under her mask. She gulped. "...Ish?"

Looking down at her hands, Ishtar summoned all the courage she had. Her eyes shot up, locking sideways with the Star's. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "...B-Breach...do you...want to be my girlfriend?"

The entire room held their collective breath. Leaning in, expectantly.

"Gck!" Breach grunted, clutching her heart as it skipped a beat. She started to breathe hard. "...I-I-I..."

Beet red, she smiled behind her mask. Her eyes were wide, sweat pouring down her head. "...y-yeah..." she breathed, "I'd l-like to be your girlfriend...a lot."

"R-really!?" Ishtar said, head jerking up to look straight on with the Star. "Y-you mean it!?"

"Y-yes!" Breach said, hands rising to her cheeks. She flinched, realizing her mask was still on. She unhooked it, showing off her giddy smile. "I would! Definitely!"

The Eules, previosuly vibrating, exploded into delighted screeching. Hands shaking, bouncing up and down, embracing one another, tears breaking out in their eyes.

"...well, don't keep her waiting," Hippolyta said, clapping her hand on Breach's shoulder. "Kiss her!"

"R-right!" Breach said, standing stock straight. She took a step forward, raising a hand to the junior Storch's face. "Can I-"

Ishtar didn't hesitate. She initiated first, wrapping her arms around the Star and leaning in. Before the Star could even prepare, their lips touched.

More elated Eule screeching.

Hippolyta clapped ecstatically, then turned to the side. She and Meryl shared a thumbs up.

Breach, eyes wide, face flushed impossibly red, sucked air as their lips parted. Then, looking into Ishtar's half-lidded eyes, she narrowed her own. "...s-sorry," she breathed. "Can we d-do that again?"

"S-sure," Ishtar said, smiling.

The two leaned in together. Eyes closed, the new girlfriends locked lips properly. Tasted one another. As if they were the only ones in the world.

 

...what the hell?

It wasn't a basin. It was a deep, dark patch in a shallow sea.

Hooves splashed ankle deep in water. Miserable, gray clouds arched across the sky above. The five replikas assembled around the sinkhole, gazing into the dark abyss.

Wind whipped through her hair, as the replika matriarch looked out on the gloomy horizon.

...Shah... Elster thought, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. ...is this...your doing?

The storyteller hugged herself, shivering at the cold expanse. ...no. I...didn't design this. I was trying for the tower again. It all just...came out this way.

...maybe it's a subconscious reaction? Isis thought, looking around. I know we're all nervous to tackle this.

Circe clasped her hands behind her back. It doesn't matter, she thought, narrowing her eyes down at the deep pool. We can do this, if we work together.

...yes, Elster nodded. She looked around. You girls are invincible, when you're together. She looked at the pool, pensively.

She didn't know if, or by how much, she was lying.

Hecate stepped cautiously near the edge, fist pressed against her chest. She leaned, carefully, to look down. ...is...is this really all the Falke? she thought. Is their pattern really so...huge?

The file size on the FLKR unit neural pattern isn't actually any larger than a normal gestalt's, Elster thought, pacing around the edge. Not by any appreciable degree. There's just as much 'data'. Size is...relative, here. Deceptive.

Where's the fishbowl? Isis thought, looking around.

Circe thumbed over her shoulder, half-turning. It should be right...here...

She turned her head, and stopped. Her eyes rose. Then, her head leaned back.

The other replikas followed her field of view, then looked up.

...holy shit... Shahrazad thought, pressing fingers to her lips.

How did we...miss that? Hecate thought, quaking.

...verdammt..., Elster thought, clenching a fist by her side.

What the replikas initially took for a mountain, far off at the edge of the shallow sea, was in fact a colossal glass bottle. Tapering up into a long neck that towered high. The narrow rim scraped the cloud cover.

Hecate, shivering, blindly stepped backwards, away from the glass mountain.

Splish. Splash.

Unknowingly, her hoof crossed over the threshold. Met open space. "Ah!" she screeched, vocally, as her mind lost balance.

Hec! Circe thought, rushing around the hole. Hand reaching out.

Flailing her arms, struggling to regain her balance, Hecate pitched forward. Mom!

Hecate! Elster thought, tensing. Watching the girl's leg kick out behind her.

At the last moment, when her weight shifted towards the abyss, Hecate caught Circe's hand. "Aaagh!" she screamed.

Hang on! Circe thought, pulling. Planted her hooves in the silty, flooded ground, and pulled.

The junior Kolibri leaned as frantically as she could, almost stumbling into her mother's arms. Mom! she thought, panting. Both hooves planting firmly in the silty earth.

Hec! Mom! Isis thought, rushing around the hole.

Are you alright? Shahrazad called, hands pressed to her chest.

"..." Elster looked out across the expanse, a knot unforming in her stomach. Thank fuck...

Hecate, heart racing, embraced her mother. I was...so scared..., she thought.

It's okay, it's okay, Circe thought, hugging her child. I've got you...you're safe...

The junior Kolibri looked over her shoulder, gulping. Eyes turned down to the abyss.

Saw something...move...in the deep water. Something dark. Something...slithering...

Before she could process the mounting horror, Hecate flinched. As a hand clapped roughly on her shoulder.

 

"What happened!? Is something wrong!?"

The bioresonant circle jolted back to awareness, looking around. The five were no longer in the damp expanse, overlooking a deep sinkhole in the drink.

They were back in the replika workshop, surrounding an impromptu life-support tank. Bellows supplied oxygen to a filtration system, that fed oxidizing fluid to a skin-less, eyeless, metal replika skull. The skull Circe's hands touched, and into which tubes and calibration wires fed.

Hecate, heart still racing, opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder. A tall shadow fell over her. "...eh?"

"Are. You. Okay?" Hippolyta said, towering over the Kolibri. "You cried out. Is something wrong?"

Clinging to her side, peeking around the Storch's body, KLBR-N0605 looked apprehensively at her collective mothers. Nimue eyed the naked, titanium skull with dread.

"...n-no..." Hecate breathed, looking back down and shutting her eyes. "I-I'm fine."

Circe looked over to Hippolyta and smiled. "Don't worry," she said, "we just had a little scare is all. Everything is alright."

"You're sure?" Hippolyta said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Things weren't quite how we expected," Elster said, scratching a spot on her scalp just under her helmet. "We can keep going..." She looked sidelong at Hecate. "...if you're still up to it, Hec."

"No, no, I can keep going," Hecate said, nodding. She looked up at the skull. "It's...it's fine..."

"...if you're sure," Circe said, nodding.

Hippolyta squeezed Hecate's shoulder, then nodded. Turned away. "Come on, Nim. Let's give them room to work..."

Nimue's eyes met Hecate's. They shared an unspoken, unarticulated feeling of dread. The newborn turned away, nodding. "...okay..."

The two walked back to their seats by the wall, and sat down.

"Alright, everyone calmed down?" Circe said, looking between the participants. "We good?"

Hecate looked back over, hand squeezing Isis's hand. She nodded, closing her eyes. "Y-yes. Let's go."

 

Keep it going. Lower. Lower.

Pulleys suspended in pure air turned, chains creaking and vibrating in the wind. Hands slowly fed lengths of chain upward. The iron wok jostled with each staggered foot of slack. It hovered over the dark water by five chains.

Just a little more, Circe thought, eyeing the vessel.

Sploosh.

The surface rippled out, as the iron bottom of the container made contact with the liquid. It bobbed up and down gently.

We've hit the water, Circe thought. She looked across the sinkhole. Elster, Hecate. Give yours another foot, so we can tip the edge under.

Right, Elster nodded, turning to Hecate. Ready?

R-ready! Hecate thought, nodding.

On three, Elster thought, looking up. Eins...zwei...drei!

The two switched hands to lower on the chains and fed them in. Pulleys rotated, giving more slack to one end of the pot.

Heavy iron sagged down by weight, until the circular edge dipped below the waterline. First a trickle, then a flood of dark water spilled over, beginning to fill the wok.

That's it, Circe thought. You're doing it. You're...

Splash.

The waves rose up, swallowing the container entirely.

Eh? Isis thought, eyes widening. She felt a tug on the line.

Shahrazad blinked, straining her eyes to see the black iron against the black water. What's...?

The spot where the chains converged under the water began to bubble and churn.

Ah! Circe yelped, as she felt a stronger tug. The chain slipped a meter in her hands. Scheisse!

The replikas struggled to keep hold of the lines, as some mighty force pulled on the chains.

Nngh! Hecate gritted her teeth, trying to hold on. When she felt herself being pulled forward, she let go. Nope! Fuck this! she thought, throwing her hands up and backing away.

No! Circe thought, head turned to Hecate. We can't just...eh!?

As the four remaining replikas dug their hooves into the mud and pulled with all their might, they looked up.

The pulleys, suspended in air by will alone, began to vibrate and jerk. Metal audibly strained against itself, and against the invisible force pinning it in space.

Elster's eyes widened. ...let it go!

Before they could, the pulleys were wrenched from their invisible perches, snapping and flying into the water.

Let it go! Let it go! Circe thought, backing up.

Reluctantly, each replika released the line. Some fell back as they let go, they pulled so hard.

Coiled chains unspooled from the flooded ground, going slack for a brief moment as the pulleys came loose. Then, they were sucked down into the water. One by one, each replika in turn broke concentration on their lines, allowing them to dissolve into smoke before their eyes.

The replikas looked down at the water's surface, as it roiled and splashed and bubbled. Slowly, the motion died down, leaving only gentle waves.

...what...happened to the container? Isis thought, sitting up from where she lay in the shallow water.

Sploosh!

Ah! Shahrazad thought, throwing her hands up.

Look out! Elster thought, backing away.

A black object tumbled through the air, arcing high over their heads. Falling down, down, down.

Sploosh.

One by one, the replikas converged on where the object landed. They stood in a line, the abyss to their backs. Eyes locked on the unintended projectile.

Iron, bent and buckled and broken, jutted up from the shallow water. Its edge embedded in the silt. Surface perforated, structure crumpled like an aluminum can. As soft waves lapped at its structure, it leaned, settling in the sediment beneath it.

"..."

The replikas gulped and gaped. Staring at the ruin of their plan.

Hecate looked over her shoulder. Back at the deep water.

Dark forms, sinuous and foreboding, writhed beneath the water's surface.

...I think there's something down there, she thought, swallowing.

We knew that already, Circe thought, turning to look herself. She frowned.

It's not like the previous ones, Shahrazad thought, looking over her shoulder at the pool, then back to the mangled wok. It's on a whole different scale.

Isis breathed in and out. Just...staring at the useless hunk of iron.

"..." Elster walked halfway to the sinkhole's edge, studying it. Studied the sky above them.

Her engineer brain set to work.

The original arrangement had obvious flaws, relying on suspending pulleys in empty air. Rookie mistake, lazy thinking. Elster got too used to the overly accommodating mental landscape, with its casual defiance of physics. Under greater strain, such a simplistic metaphor was doomed to fail.

...we need a better design, Elster thought. And...maybe more hands.

 

Heave! Heave! Heave!

Metal supports groaned, straining against a force pulling down on it from below. A long, thick chain hung down from a pulley as large as a gestalt head, locked in place and suspended from the structure above. Concrete blocks sat in a circle on the ground, half sunk in the mud. Anchoring a dome of wrist-thick steel supports, welded together in stacked levels of triangular struts.

The galaxy's largest playground jungle gym. Tall as a one-storey house. Domed structure distributing weight across a half-sphere and into the ground.

Seven sets of replika hands gripped the chain, pulling together as it wound under a secondary pulley rooted by concrete and metal pylons into the ground before them. Elster stood at their fore, one hoof planted firmly against the concrete base. Behind her Circe, Shahrazad, Isis, and Hecate.

Taking up the rear were Daisy and Nimue, struggling mightily just to contribute.

Ngh...Elster... Daisy groaned, shutting her eyes. My...head hurts...

I know, Elster thought, one eye closed. She gritted her teeth. It's your brain, trying to do something you've never...ngh...done before...

You can...ngh...bow out, if you need to... Circe thought, digging her hooves into the soft silt. Everyone else...heave!

The group pulled together, dragging the chain up another foot.

Is...is this normal? Nimue thought, hooves repeatedly digging into the silt, slipping, and planting again. She pulled at the very end of the line. This seems...like...a lot of work...for one replika!

Falkes...ngh...aren't like other replikas..., Isis thought, facing the opposite direction so she pulled the chain over her shoulder. Trying desperately to get a better angle of traction.

Heave! Circe thought, pulling.

The water bubbled violently, obscuring the thick iron cauldron suspended from the chain. The lip barely started to peak above the waterline.

I can't...I can't..., Daisy thought, whining. Her grip loosened. It hurts!

Then let go! Elster thought over her shoulder. Don't strain yourself! It's not worth it! She looked forward again, throwing a hand to the next set of chain links. We've almost got it.

Heave!

Daisy, whimpering, fell away, tumbling to the flooded ground. Finally, she shimmered out of existence, as she removed her helmet and stumbled, painfully, into the physical world.

Are...we going to be able to do it? Hecate thought, eyeing the spot vacated by the Ara.

We'll have to, Elster thought, grunting as her own mental muscles strained against the huge force pulling against them.

Heave!

The tug-of-war against the FLKR neural pattern continued. Each tug slowly, painfully, drew the weight of liquid up.

Until, finally, their opposition's patience ran out.

Hecate saw it first. W-watch out!

Elster took a step back, as a black tendril lashed out, slamming down on the concrete anchor at her hooves. Scheisse!

The entire pool roiled and writhed with shadowy arms, that swiped at the open air. Water splashed everywhere.

It's REALLY unhappy! Shahrazad thought, gritting her teeth. Ah!

The entire line lurched forward a step, hooves gouging grooves in the mud.

Gott...! Elster grunted, throwing her hoof up again to brace against the concrete. Then the other, knees bending against the weight pulling on them all. Götterdämmerung!

Tendrils lashed out at the shallows encircling the hole. The only thing protecting the replikas was the concrete and metal base in front of them. And that anchor took a royal beating.

Crunch.

The solid metal strut affixing pulley to concrete bent under a tendril blow. The only thing keeping the chain from snapping up to the topmost pulley was the metal bending over the chain, rather than the other way. Instead, the chain slipped the pulley wheel and dug into the bent metal supporting it. Steel ground against steel. It groaned, chain sandwiched in the crook where pulley met support.

Mutterficher! Elster thought, trying to back up from the sparks flying out in front of her. Watched the assembly bending further up before her eyes. It's...not going to hold!

But we're so close! Circe thought, scowling. We can't...

Look out! Hecate thought, ducking. A tendril snapped the air over her head.

Back up! Back up! Back up! Elster thought, throwing one arm back.

Black tendrils flew out wide and long. No longer flailing blindly, but with terrible purpose. They latched onto the metal struts of the dome itself. Pulled.

Rrngh. Rnnch.

Metal buckled, and mentally formed welds failed. Struts snapped, strong triangular supports compromised. The entire structure lurched.

Circe's eyes went wide, as she looked all around her. Okay, fuck it! Run!

The replikas all let go, scattering. The chain, unbound, sucked rapidly in. Hooves splashed through choppy water, as they frantically struggled to put as much distance between themselves and the abyssal mouth. Ducked through triangular holes in the dome as it bent and lurched loudly.

Crunch. Rrnnk. Krrnch. Wrrrn.

Run away! Elster thought as loud as she could, to be heard over the bending and tearing of metal.

Ah! Nimue cried, falling down on the wet ground mere meters from the collapsing structure.

Ngh! Elster grunted, doubling back and picking the Kolibri up. Come on! she thought, throwing the girl over her shoulder. She dashed as fast as thought would allow.

As the replikas staggered to a stop several meters away, they looked back. Panting, wide-eyed, they witnessed the destruction with dreadful awe.

A dense tangle of black tendrils spread out from the water, seizing every strut of the rapidly disintegrating jungle gym. The high pulley, suspended from the roof, snapped. The chain bunched up in its wheel until the downward force defeated it. The dome buckled inward, struts torn from their concrete moorings. It shrank into itself, like a collapsing star.

It was the violent death of a good idea. Disappeared beneath the waters with a huge splash, leaving only the rapidly dissolving concrete to stand as monument to their folly.

 

"How are you feeling?"

The workshop was crowded. Kolibris sat on the floor, backs against a bench. Held each other, as Nimue sobbed quietly. Hippolyta knelt down, massaging Circe's shoulders silently.

Daisy groaned, pressing an ice pack to her head. Face buried in the surface of the work bench. "...ngh...not so good..."

The tech adept rubbed the Ara's back.

"If I had known the process would incur such a strain on my eldest student," Diodana said, "I would scarcely have permitted her participation." Four photo-receptors eyed Elster angrily. "I forbid further such experiments."

"Understood," Elster said, rubbing her own aching head. Bent low over the table where she sat. "Fuck. Brute forcing it didn't work at all."

Hooves paced the floor. A hand slicked back hair.

"...so what now?" Adler asked, hands clasped behind his back. Sweat poured down his cheek. "Can't you try again?"

"Not tonight," Elster said, shaking her head. She hissed softly, rubbing her temples. "Everyone is exhausted."

"Not again..." Nimue whimpered, shaking her head. "Not ever. No. No, never again."

"Shh...It'll be okay," Shahrazad whispered, rubbing the girl's back. "It won't ever be like that again."

Alder shut his eyes, rubbing his face. "...we can't just give up."

"We're not giving up, Adler," Elster groaned. "We just...need more time. Rest. A better...fucking plan."

The man groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "...verdammt...so close...we're so close! She's...right there!" He gestured with both hands at the replika skull sitting on a metal box in the middle of the room. Breathing softly and regularly through its bellows. "And yet it...we just..."

Circe sighed, looking over. "I know we're close," she said, sternly. "But it's not easy, what we're trying to do. This is a herculean task, orders of magnitude bigger and more hazardous than anything we've attempted so far. We've tried multiple times now, and it hasn't worked."

"Try harder!" Adler growling, head jerking towards the Kolibris.

Hippolyta rose to her hooves, glaring.

The ADLR unit's eyes widened. He backed up, trying to gain distance.

The Storch was faster.

"Hngh!" Adler gasped, clutching the Storch's arm as she grabbed the front of his navy blue jumpsuit and lifted him a meter in the air.

"Hip!" Elster shouted, staggering to her hooves. Winced and clutched her head. "...d-don't...ow..."

Diodana sighed, shaking her head. "Here we go again," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't you yell at Circe, do you hear me?" Hippolyta yelled, brows furrowed. "Just because you want your giant, psychic girlfriend!"

"Hip. That's enough."

Hippolyta looked sideways and down, to her lover.

Circe looked the Storch dead in the face, soberly. "You made your point. Put him down."

The Storch looked back at the man, hooves kicking impotently at the air beneath him. Struggling to hold himself up.

"Tch," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Fine." She lowered him to the ground, letting him stand on his own. Released his collar.

"..."

Adler gasped, looking down at the metal floors. Grasping his neck.

"..."

After a moment, he inhaled. Exhaled. "...I...apologize..." Adler said, shutting his eyes. He adjusted his incongruous necktie. "...I...lost my composure."

"..." Elster sighed, sitting back down on the metal stool. Rubbed her aching head. "Adler...I know you're frustrated. I know how much this means to you."

"..." Adler didn't look at the commander. He stared at the floor.

"...but we're all trying our hardest," Elster said. Hand gestured around the room. "The Kolibris, Daisy, me...we're trying to bootstrap the creation of the pinnacle of Eusan Nation science, in the middle of a galactic civil war. All with no knowledge of how the Nation accomplished it. Just...from first principles. None of this is easy. We just...aren't there yet. I'm sorry."

Adler looked around at the replikas in the room, then over to Elster. "...no, I'm sorry," he sighed, looking down. "There's...no excuse for my outburst."

"We also may have to...shelve the project," Elster said, rubbing her temple. "I desperately need to draw up an entirely new design, all in my head. Something on a bigger scale. We may need to completely rethink how we...conceptualize the implantation process. These last couple attempts have shown there's real, tangible danger here. And I...don't want to attempt it again, unless we have everything worked out and in our favor."

"...we might need to wait until we can get help from those people," Circe said, beckoning her girlfriend over. She took the Storch's hand. "Those people the Arkifane talked about."

"...which...means waiting until after Xana," Adler said, shutting his eyes and nodding.

"Honestly," Elster said, leaning on the table beside her, "I...would rather focus all my energies on THAT mission. It's...the highest stakes assignment, and the purpose behind this segmentum-wide enterprise."

"I understand," Adler sighed, pinching his nose. "I will...manage my expectations accordingly."

"Is Xana...really that dangerous?" Hippolyta said, looking around.

"Oh, indubitably. Taking on a Forge-fane is beyond dangerous at the best of times. Let alone a collection of closely aligned Forge-fanes."

Diodana studied her metal hands, then looked up.

"All the worse, because it is XANA. A Forge domain old and strong enough to bring the Imperium of Man to the bargaining table. THAT is who we will shortly pit ourselves against. Machine God help us all."

Chapter 63: The Flight to Galaxy's Edge

Notes:

The Xana Incursion (Part 1)

For those seeking a more robust explanation of what Xana even IS. (I'd hold off watching Part 2, to avoid spoilers for subsequent chapters.)

"We thought...we were saved. We thought...they were here to help us..."

Smoke billowed to the sky from scorched and ruined bunkers. On the horizon, shattered remains of manufactora and silos belched fire. Storehouses dotted the perimeter of the airfield, torn open and ransacked. Emptied of their contents.

Dead bodies strewed the asphalt field, and as did the broken shells of tanks, planes, sentinel walkers, and automatons.

Replikas milled about, keeping watch. Lasguns at the ready.

Their commander knelt by a wounded gestalt.

"...what happened here?" Elster asked, tying a rubber hose around the man's bleeding arm stump.

"Traitors...haff...the traitors came in," the man gasped, wincing. He looked forlornly at the smoke-choked sky. "We...thought we were dead then...ngh...then, those...Machine Cult forces showed up...with their...robots and...cyborgs..." He glanced fearfully at Elster. "...you're not..."

"No," Elster said, shaking her head. She rummaged in her medical bag. "Unrelated. Just passing by. Bitte, continue."

He swallowed, shutting his eyes. "...the Mechanicum fought them off. We...thought they were...on our side...but..."

"Lift your hand, danke schön," Elster muttered, holding forceps and a flashlight. When the man removed the hand from his stomach, she examined the weeping wound. "...but?"

"...but...ngh...they just...started attacking us too." The man winced, as the forceps probed his insides, catching hold of a bit of shrapnel. "...agh! Hagh..."

"Entschuldigung," Elster said, nodding. "I'm sorry. It will hurt. Bear with it. There's a good soldat."

He sucked again, gritting his teeth. He eyed the shrapnel as the replika held it up for inspection. "...they just...nagh...they just attacked us, like it was nothing...took everything..." He frowned, winced, then looked the other direction. "...did I hear...shooting, earlier...?"

"..." Elster placed the man's hand over his wound again. "Put pressure on it. Good." She wiped her hands on a scrap of cloth, then pulled out a bottle of disinfectant. "...some of your fellows survived, but they had...dangerous levels of radiation. Sie waren bereits tot. They were dead men walking. They are saved now from slow, agonizing death, ja."

She didn't tell him she offered them, though. Elster compartmentalized her guilt.

The man stared at the sky, then shut his eyes. "...dammit...those fucking...rat bastards..." He shook his head. "...killed both sides, then...stole everything...traitors. Traitors all of them..."

"What colors did they wear?" Elster said, soaking gauze in disinfectant. Of course, she already examined the wrecked automata nearby. But she wanted confirmation. And to keep the man talking, lest he go into shock. "Could you identify their Forge World?"

"...black..." the gestalt mumbled, "beige and black." He shut his eyes, then nodded. "Over the...radio...they said where...they came from..." His face glistened with blood and sweat.

As Elster extended her hands to apply the gauze to his stomach, the man grabbed her arm. Held it fast.

She looked into his eyes.

He glared, mouth quivering.

"...they said...it was Xana. Those sons of bitches...knew we...couldn't trust them...the Bay of Bones..."

 

"The Forge Domain of Xana is...a paradox."

Hsssss.

Hooves clanked on the metal floor of the meeting room. With each hoof-fall, porcelain teacups rattled in their saucers. Steam billowed to the air, turned green from the light of the tactical map dominating the room.

"Dash," Vanessa said, setting a teacup down on the flat rim of the table.

"Thank you, Van," the Star said, nodding. Took up the cup, smelled the herbal aroma.

"D.T.," the Eule said, handing the next cup over.

"Thanks," Double Tap said.

The replika commander tapped the rim of the table pensively. "How so?" she said, to the tech priest.

"A Forge civilization too in concordance with Martian orthodoxy, at least in most respects, to have predated the formation of the Mechanicum proper and its fleets of missionary arks during the Age of Strife," Diodana said, raising a finger. "But too well-entrenched within its system to be anything but a domain of immense age. Its resources, industrial output, and apparent knowledge rivaled or exceeded that of even the mightiest Forge world offshoots throughout the galaxy. Yet, because of its position poised on the galactic rim, and perhaps its attitude towards outsiders, Xana remained elusive."

"Hip, Circe," Vanessa said, placing two cups down.

"Mmm," Hippolyta nodded from her position leaned against the wall.

"Thank you," Circe said, nodding.

"Isis," the Eule said, handing a cup off.

"Van," Isis said, nodding and accepting the cup graciously.

"Xana was...unknown?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not in the slightest," Diodana said. "But it was known only in rumor, hearsay, and scattered reports by Rogue Traders. A group known for their tendency to...embellish." The tech priest tapped buttons on the control panel. The screen shifted, showing a map of systems centered around the border between Segmentums Obscurus and Pacificus. "It was only late in the Great Crusade that the Imperium stumbled into Xana's domain by chance, in a region known popularly as the Ocidentum Thule. The very edge of the furthest spiral arm, beyond which lay only the dark of the intergalactic void. Stranger still, they seemed not only to expect Imperial representatives, but planned for them. They requested parlay, that they may enter the fold."

"Was that unusual?" Dash asked, folding her arms.

"The Great Crusade found no shortage of worlds or systems that relished union with a stronger, more technologically advanced human civilization. Especially 'wild seeds' of Martian machine faith, who sought reunion for theological reasons." Diodana said. "But there were as many such polities that needed to be persuaded, by word or show of force or outright violence, of the inevitability of their absorption. Data point of two, the Eusan Nation and Eusan Empire. Moreover, few such systems, even advanced ones, did so readily or with much advanced warning. Fer had the means or the reach. Xana had seen the Imperium and the Mechanicum coming, and wanted in."

"Sounds nice," Elster said, stroking her chin. "Everyone got what they wanted, and no one had to die. Would that it happened more often." She looked to the side, lowering her voice. "Or, failing that, the Imperium accepted 'no' for an answer more readily."

"If Xana was so eager to join...oh, thank you," Daisy said, accepting the offered teacup. She sniffed the aroma, tapped the rim of the cup to test for temperature, then set it down on the table with an audible tap. "...if Xana was so eager, why don't we know more about them? Their history, their origins?"

Diodana accepted a teacup as well, along with a metal straw. "Much thanks," she whispered through her respirator. She set the hot beverage down. "Xana's local governing body, the Vodian Consistory, was always simultaneously perfectly cordial and maddeningly reserved. Politely refusing to answer questions about their history, resources, or military disposition."

"Thank you, sweetie," Elster whispered, nodding to Vanessa. She inhaled from the steaming teacup, then set it down. "Surely neither the Imperium nor Mars took that refusal well."

"What can only be judged a likely excuse was provided," Diodana said, nodding. "That Xana's deep archival stacks suffered damage over the millennia, that made recovery of their earliest records impossible. But, once again, they politely declined any offers by Martian experts to examine and perhaps recover such corrupted data. At all times, the Vodian Consistory both wanted formal union and kept their potential partners at arm's length."

"I mean, surely they couldn't maintain that kind of secrecy forever," Circe said, tapping the rim of her teacup. "By becoming a member of the Imperium - or, I suppose, the Mechanicum - they would need to divulge and give the greater forces of Terra and Mars the run of the place."

"If for no other reason," Daisy said, "than to root out potential hereteknica."

"Undoubtedly, this is what the Imperium and Mechanicum both desired, and expected to gain," Diodana said. "But while Xana was willing to join with the Mechanicum, in concordance with the greater purposes of the Machine God, they also wished to retain a great deal of independence. The Imperium was forced to...negotiate."

"Wha...?" Hippolyta scowled, sitting up from where she leaned, cross-armed. "What about all that 'Join or Die' shit the Imperium was always doing? How do you force them to the bargaining table?"

"This absolutist doctrine of compliance - 'Unconditional Surrender or Annihilation' - was indeed employed extensively by the Imperium and Mechanicum over the course of the Great Crusade, yes," Diodana said, nodding. "Again, we may look no further than Eusan for this principle in action. But despite propaganda to the contrary, this was not universal. As it could only be truly and effectively employed in situations where the Imperium and her allies held an unassailable position of strength. Or when they believed they held it. Many a compliance action was bogged down or even suffered catastrophic misadventure when an overconfident, overzealous, misinformed, or simply...moronic commander of Imperial forces engaged a foe far more dangerous than was initially surmised. Certainly, until the outset of the present civil war, the Imperium largely succeeded in its goals of conquest. But more times than it would like, it ran headlong into fights more costly than was preferable. Achieving victory at immense cost, for little ultimate gain."

"Ah," Elster said, nodding. "I see. Xana represented a force strong enough, and whose military capabilities were mysterious enough, to make Imperial commanders wary of starting a war with them. I take it cooler heads prevailed, and remembered those previous 'misadventures'."

"Correct," Diodana said, nodding. "From what I understand, conservative estimates of Xana's abilities pointed to a campaign, were one to be waged, to require such a large commitment of badly-needed forces as to be prohibitive. Least of all if, in the course of bringing the Forge-fanes, plural, throughout the system to heel would require such a level of collateral damage, it rendered the prize upon victory not worth the cost. And Xana was a mighty prize."

"This, children, is why I always tell you to walk around armed," Elster said, turning to the other replikas. "You don't go looking for a fight everywhere. But you make it clear that you're not easy pickings."

The replikas nodded gravely.

"As events transpired, Xana was brought into compliance," Diodana said. "But by a treaty which allowed the Forge domain to retain a great deal of sovereignty and operational leeway. I remember, back when I mingled regularly with other acolytes of Holy Mars, that the treaty was a matter of great consternation to the Fabricator-General at the time. If scuttlebutt was to be believed, anyway. In return for these generous terms, Xana would supply the Imperium with resources, repair and refit, troops and taghmata, and even their bonded Knight Houses and Titan Legions. All these advantages were, I'm told, of great aid to the Imperium during the Rangdan Xenocides."

"You know, I keep hearing about the Rangda," Vanessa said, blowing steam from her teacup. She sipped gingerly. "What were they, exactly? Aliens?"

"I do not know," Diodana said, tapping her respirator pensively. "Despite that at least one Astartes Legion, the Dark Angels, being involved in its near entirety, the Imperial interators and propaganda reels were always silent on the matter. In most other conflicts, the heroism of the Legions was well documented and dispersed. But on the Rangdan Xenocides...nothing. No word on the nature or abilities of these Xenos, nor any battles against them."

"...it just seems troubling," Vanessa said, staring at her teacup. "What could an alien species, even one hostile to the Imperium, do to justify complete extermination?"

"From everything I've learned?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow. "Existing. That alone the Imperium considers a mortal sin. Not that there aren't aliens out there that are extremely dangerous."

Hippolyta and the two Stars patted the handles of their talon-blades.

"In any event, after the Rangda were no more," Diodana said, "much more talk circulated among the Mechanicum of Xana's capabilities. And the apparent exhausting of their military disposition. They're not harmless, but the Xenocides evidently expended much of their surplus. Much less many of their Titans and Knights."

"...which might explain why they're attacking other systems and stealing their resources," Daisy said, before taking a small sip of tea. She licked her lips, frowning. "...they're eager to reclaim their efficacy, during this time of war."

"They attacked both Loyalist and Horusite forces, though," Dash said, eyes studying the map on the display. "Who are they working for?"

"Perhaps they're like us," Isis said, crossing her arms. "Working for a third party."

"Or they're working for themselves," Hippolyta said. "They were doing just fine for thousands of years. Maybe they're eager to stake a claim as independent."

"Or...they're just waiting to see which way the wind blows," Circe said, narrowing her eyes, "before they commit to a side."

"It doesn't matter," Elster said, picking up her cup and sipping. She shut her eyes, enjoying the black tea. "...the internal politics of Xana, and its relationship to the two warring factions, is of no concern to us."

She reached over and tapped buttons on the control panel. The map screen refreshed, replacing a wide view of star systems with a map of a single one. With another tap, a close view of a gas giant, ringed by a dense debris field and orbited by multiple, planet-sized 'moons'.

Elster tapped a finger on one of the orbiting bodies. "Our purpose is here."

"Xana-Tisiphone," Diodana said, crossing her arms. "The domain's penitentiary research moon."

"A jailbreak?" Double Tap said, tilting her head to one side.

Elster nodded.

"Vashtorr has granted a certain VIP prisoner parole. We're going to enact their release."

 

"...you don't have to go, you know."

The Star shrugged. "...Dash needs to stay behind," Double Tap said, sitting naked on the edge of the bed. "If this all goes tits up, Elster needs someone to lead, until she gets back."

Petunia crossed her arms, frowning. "Kite could go, then," she said, looking away. "...or I could..."

"No," Double Tap said, flatly. She frowned. "You scared me enough, last time. It's my turn to risk it all."

"And what about me?" Trinity said, pressing a hand to her chest. She stood beside the Ara, wearing only the Dark Angels t-shirt she bought on Caliban. A pained expression on her face. "Will I always have to worry one of you won't return?"

The Star smiled. "You could always go on a mission yourself. Let us worry ourselves to death."

Petunia turned her head to the Star. "You wouldn't allow that," she said, flatly.

"True, true," Double Tap said, sighing. She looked down at the carpet. "...remember, you two promised to live, if I never came back."

"We will," Petunia said, nodding.

"Yes," Trinity said, nodding and frowning. "I know."

"That's one advantage of having a polycule," Double Tap said, smiling nervously. She scratched the back of her head. "Even if one of us dies, the others won't be left alone."

"..."

Growing uncomfortable with the silence, the Ara smiled. "...it's...not the only advantage, though...right?"

"..."

The Star and Eule laughed, tension melting from their chests.

"No...no, it isn't," Trinity said. She stepped over and hugged her Ara around the side.

Double Tap beamed. Then, spread her legs. "Yeah...why don't you two remind me what those advantages are," she said, eyes half-lidded. Patted beside her on the bed. "Just so I know what I need to fight to return to."

Her lovers blushed.

Petunia unlatched her utility belt and set it on the desk. Then slowly zipped down her jumpsuit, and let it fall down her shoulders. Allowed the Star's eyes to linger on her, as she disrobed.

Trinity, feeling bolder, grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head. Mussed her auburn hair as she threw the shirt unceremoniously to the ground.

Petunia was busy folding the now-removed jumpsuit, when she saw Trinity already joining D.T. on the bed.

"Coming, sweetie?" Trinity said, sidling up beside the Star. Cheek pressed against Double Tap's own. Hand reaching down.

The Ara forced a smile, and tossed the suit onto the back of their shared desk chair.

"That was the plan, yes."

 

"You're sure you don't want me flying this one?"

Grainy feeds from exterior cameras played on the dashboard screens. One of the screens bolted to the deck, a tiny digital LCD roughly the size of a photograph. Wires fed through a hole drilled in the original beige plastic.

The two watched as Jenny and the Schnappers - Helga (01), Olga (02), and Bertha (03) - welded latches onto the larger shuttle that was, itself, crudely attached to the Penrose 313. The old two-person shuttle equipped to the exploratory vessel couldn't support the whole strike team. Let alone the land transport they would need once they touched down.

Legs crossed, Elster bobbed her hoof up and down. "...Sally can handle it, I think," she said, eyes glued to the screen. "She's logged as much time flying the Penrose as you."

Tulip's eyes wandered to the windows looking out. To the front of the Nomarch and, far beyond it, the infintite sea of stars. "...I didn't think you paid attention to how much flight time we have."

"...Adler takes good notes," Elster said, giving a small smile.

"This is the important one, right?" Tulip asked, side-eyeing her mother. "The one we flew all the way to the end of the galaxy to do? You're sure you don't need me for it?"

"It's not that I don't want you helping," Elster said. "It's just Daisy already volunteered to be our tech support for this mission. And she's been logging hundreds of hours at the range, just for this mission." She glanced sideways. "You know Dio would never let TWO of her most senior apprentices go off on such a dangerous mission."

The Ara chewed her bottom lip, then nodded. "...I suppose so."

"You're the most experienced at flying the Nomarch, so I need you here...in case it all goes wrong."

The two sat in silence, reclining in the cockpit seats.

"..." Elster inclined her head back. "Plus...if worse comes to worse...Mik'hul will be able to fly the ship on his own."

Aw, thought Mik'hul, it's nice you have such faith in me, boss.

"Shut up, Mik'hul," Elster muttered, closing her eyes.

"What if the Penrose is destroyed?" Tulip said, fingers fidgeting with the zipper on her navy blue jumpsuit. "Will you be able to...will you have anywhere to 'reconstitute'?"

"I've had that conversation with Vashtorr," Elster said, nodding. "If the Nomarch is still there in the event the Penrose and I are dead, he'll put me back together in the replika workshop." She sighed. "Diodana will insist on building a new calibration pod, since the one 'downstairs' will be 'tainted', of course."

"Of course."

The two sat in silence again. Watched the giant replikas on the cameras work.

"..." Tulip fidgeted again with her zipper. "...what happens after this? After the mission is done, one way or another? Will we...go home? It would be safer."

"Definitely safer, yes," Elster said, nodding. "...after this, we need to rendezvous with those contacts Vashtorr talked about. The ones who might be able to help us with the Falke."

"Ah. Right." Tulip nodded. "Adler will insist on it."

"He reminded me again, this morning," Elster said, nodding as well. She sighed. "The poor man."

"What do you think his obsession stems from?" Tulip asked, steepling her fingers. "Is it love?"

"Circe...I told her not to look into his mind, but she did anyway, way back when." Elster sighed. "She thinks Adler is in love, yes. But there's...something deeper than that. Not just a need to see her - be with her, serve her - but to...for lack of a better word, 'make it up to her'."

Tulip stared at the stars. "...do we know why?"

"...I have an idea, but I can't be sure," Elster said, shaking her head. "I need to have a talk with him. I can tell it bothers him, to be so fixated, for reasons he can't explain. Unprofessional. For now, though...we focus on the mission. Then, the contacts. After that...I haven't decided. It all depends."

"Depends on what?"

"I need to download the updated job map," Elster said, stroking her chin. "According to Vashtorr, due to how events transpired over these last couple years, versus how they might have transpired, many old jobs are no longer viable. While other, new jobs have opened up. Enough people made the 'right' or 'wrong' choices, that it's different now. We'll need to study the map, to see what's available. Plus, we're far enough into the Segmentum Pacificus, we need to see if there's anything there worth looking into."

"We shouldn't get too far away from home," Tulip said, glancing at her mother. "Every new...detour is another few months...or years added to the trip home."

"Correct," Elster nodded.

"And we don't want to have to cut through the Segmentum Solar, to make up lost time."

"No, we do not." Elster sighed. "I'd really rather not go anywhere near Terra, if I can avoid it."

"Plus, I've been talking with the Kolibris," Tulip said, sitting up and stretching. "They tell me the Ruinstorm petered out somewhere after Caliban. Space out here is open...which means the Imperium has full freedom of movement."

"They've said the same thing to me, too," Elster nodded. "Even I've felt it. We can all hear ourselves, and each other, think without big walls up. Hecate and Nimue don't know what to do with themselves, it's so quiet."

Another moment of silence.

"..."

Tulip inclined her head back. "...have you done this before?" she said, tapping the dashboard with her hoof. Glanced to Elster. "Jumped without the Warp drive and Geller field?"

"Once."

Elster tilted her head to the side. "Well, one round trip. It was at the very start, when it was just me and Mik'hul. He insisted there was someplace I should see. Against my better judgment, I acquiesced. So...he opened the way, and we went."

"Just like that?" Tulip asked, frowning.

"Just like that, yes."

"You could have left the Eusan system the whole time?"

"Could have, but it wasn't pleasant the first time." Elster leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, elbows on her knees. "It required moving through Warp corridors only the daemons know. Through the Realm of Tzeentch himself." She inclined her head to the front windows. "I couldn't enter this room at all, for hours. Mik'hul advised against it, and I wasn't going to argue. I didn't want to see what the 'Crystal Labyrinth' was like. At least now, we have proper blast doors to cover the windows."

"...hours?" Tulip said, furrowing her brow. "Where did you go that it only took hours to get there through the Warp? Typically, it takes days or weeks to hop systems."

"Time makes even less sense in Tzeentch's realm," Elster said, shrugging. "When the whole trip to and from was over, I'd only experienced a few days. But I discovered I lost months in Realspace. Or, possibly, gained them. I was never entirely sure what the date was, in Eusan time, up until we got back from our original forays for work."

"..."

Tulip stared at the stars. "...where did you go? Back then, when you let Mik'hul take you."

"..." Elster was silent, for a full minute.

Finally, she said, "Somewhere I'd rather not visit again, for a long, long time." She lowered her voice. "Don't let him gloat about it, but he was right. I DID need to see it. I just...don't want to see it again."

"What was it?" Tulip said, cocking an eyebrow. "Where did you go?"

"..." The replika commander exhaled. Stared at the infinite sea of stars.

She said nothing. For in that moment, song of her soul, her voice was dead.

 

"...I...apologize...brother..."

The marine nodded stoically. He picked up a rag and daubed spittle from his face. His eyes - one natural, one augmetic - regarded the...being before him. "It is...no matter...brother."

The creature watched him as he walked slowly around the operating table. "I was...confused," it said, in a raspy tone. Frothy spit leaked from his mouth. "Your...armor..."

"It is my turn to apologize to you, brother," said the marine. He looked down at the sea-green ceramite plates. A quick and dirty paint job, but it would have to suffice. "We have very little time. The deception was not meant for you."

The...thing on the slab suffered a facial twitch. "...does it...pain you, brother?" it said. "To wear the...colors...of a traitor? How does it...feel?"

Anton Weir's mouth twitched. He winced at the phantom pain in his arm. Suppressed reactions. "...feeling is weakness, brother. You know this. The logic will see us through."

The creature on the slab...laughed.

The marine eyed his 'brother' ruefully. "..."

"...the logic..." the creature rasped, shaking its head. Its bemused smile warped painfully into a scowl. "What logic is there? In what you've done? In what I...WE have become?" Its head jerked, gesturing to the many other slabs throughout the cavernous room, where others like IT were being reconstituted. "In what happened that day?"

"..."

Seeing its former battle-brother stare with the same aggressive neutrality, the creature barked, "The 'Logic' has FAILED, brother! There is none to be found! Not in here..." It jerked its head down, to its exposed chest cavity. It struggled, more for emphasis than attempt to escape, against the bonds pinning it to the slab. "...and not in this galaxy! There is no Logic! There is..." It gasped, gritting its teeth. "...there is...only...Hate."

Weir scowled. Studied the cold, dead eyes of his once kinsman. Of the thing it became. Of what He, Weir, made him.

He mastered himself. Looked away. "There will be time enough for vengeance, brother. Vengeance against Horus, his sons...and every mongrel who would aid them."

"When, brother?" the creature grimaced. "When will we vent our hate?"

"Soon," Weir said, turning away.

He picked up the stolen Sons of Horus helmet, and tucked it under his arm.

"We make flight for Xana tomorrow."

 

Spires of crystal formed and unformed. Rose and fell. Twisted, turned, and coiled in on each other.

Words flew on ethereal winds. Words of meaning. Words of power. Words of madness. Words not spoken in ten thousand, thousand years. Words that wouldn't be spoken for ten thousand more.

Great braziers of coruscating flame burned colors not meant for mortal eyes. Figures formed in the flames, silently taunting someone, somewhere, without that person's knowledge. Rippling, many-mawed phantoms stoked the fires with blazes from mouths on their arms. Horrors capered and babbled around the pyres, trying to catch glimpses of prophecy.

A shadow fell over the writhing, changing throng. They went still, many eyes turning to regard its source.

They upturned their hands, seeking by flame or magic to bring the foreign object down. That they may correct its awful sin of consistency and order.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The entities of metamorphosis cowered, shrinking low and covering themselves with their arms (or sundry appendages). Heads turned. Eyes regarded the figure traveling, by routes of twisting, gravity-defying stairs, down to them. Or possibly up. Staff striking crystal steps with each gigantic stride.

"Now, now," the greater daemon whined, beaked maw opening wide. Long neck bent, allowing its bird eye to see. "Not yet. Let them go. They are guests."

It watched the Penrose 313 glide through space, rolling sideways to slip wings between narrow bridges and spires of crystal. Sandwiched between myriad planes that folded in on each other, until naught but hollow tubes of fractal crystal formations remained. With effortless ease, known only to a native of the realm, it swam through the aether. Clouds of words and symbols cascaded around aerodynamic metal.

Any mortal who witnessed such a landscape would surely be rendered mad. But the crew kept the windows covered and their curiosity well heeled. Because they were good children, and heeded their mother's warnings.

"Hmmmmmm...," the Lord of Change whimpered, the corner of its beak turning up in a smile that ought to be impossible. "Besides..." it cooed, voice high and lilting, "they go to make great change."

The daemons smiled at this, and began capering again. Cheering and clapping and babbling good luck to the hapless mortals.

For though they followed the instructions of a lesser power of the Warp, their work was still, even now, Just As Planned.

As it always was.

Chapter 64: Xana

Ping.

Systems thrummed briefly to life. Instruments delivered data packets to cogitators. An automated monitoring station built into a cluster of asteroids forwarded this data to relays, shot across the local Noosphere.

A tech menial, already on edge, sat up to attention. He turned his head, quizzically.

"[Detecting minor spike in aetheric activity in sector 591-8J]," he stated, message sent to his immediate superior across the facility.

"[Is it the Sons of Horus vessel?]" said his superior, half distracted from her duties directing cleaning servitors. She need not have inquired, as her subordinate dutifully forwarded the data packet. "[...what?]"

"[Strange, is it not?]" he stated. "[Clear presence of Warp incursion. Too brief for capital ship entrance. And no sign of cause, or of vessel. Orders?]"

"[...]"

A pause. Readings were studied.

"[...data inconclusive]." The tech priest pulled her beige robes up as she rose from her seat. Wandered to a work station, almost absentmindedly. She loaded a calming stim from a cabinet and injected it into a patch of skin on her neck. "[Continue observation for 3 cycles, or until Warmaster's delegation arrives, whichever eventuality is first forthcoming.]"

"[Theories?]"

She sighed, scratching an itch on a bit of skin abutting a set of augments on her side. "[...84 percent probability of glitch, faulty instrument, or Warp fluctuation.]" The tech priest leaned her head back, as the drug worked its way through her bloodstream. "[Pay it no more mind than thoroughness demands. Stress is...undesirable, at this juncture. Authorizing calming agent, if desired.]"

"[Acknowledged.]"

With no more orders, the tech menial severed the connection. He kept a window open in his digital interface, to monitor the sector in question further. Set the monitor to expire in 3 cycles. Then, reached into a workstation drawer and removed a stim.

He took one last look at the expanse of empty space on his monitor, then injected himself.

In truth, he WAS a bit high strung, after 286 uninterrupted hours monitoring the local volume. Days waiting for the Vodian Consistory's "guests" to arrive. If his superior was offering, he would partake in sedatives.

He partook perhaps in greater dosage than was prescribed, for the working period. But the experienced menial was confident if the Cicatrice Tyrannis arrived in-system, he would be sober enough to relay the proper information.

In his defense, it's not as though the monitoring stations could have spotted the tiny ship that arrived. Nor tracked its flight toward the lonely planetoid orbiting the gas giant.

The replikas made sure of that.

 

"Thank the Empress...we're out."

Forward and rear blast shields rolled back, permitting unrestricted view of the stars. The Penrose 313 slid through space, a crack in the fabric of material reality sealing shut behind them.

In the reactor room, the Kolibri rubbed her head. "Finally," she shuddered, lowering all but her normal mental shields.

"Are you alright?" Daisy said, punching buttons and flipping switches on a panel in front of her.

"Yeah, just..." Isis said, sighing. "...I didn't think it would be...that intense."

"Whaaaaat? Come on!" Mik'hul said, tendrils writhing. "Back home isn't that bad, is it?"

The Kolibri glared at the daemon.

Daisy tapped the beige plastic covering of the panel pensively. "...if it makes you feel any better," the Ara said, "I'm glad we're not there anymore, too."

"Does no one like my home?" Mik'hul said, many mouths frowning. "I know it can get a little noisy..."

"It was a nonstop barrage of voices, trying to get me to sell my soul," Isis growled. "I could barely hear myself think."

"Well, at least they were saying 'hi', rather than coming in to greet you personal-like," the daemon said, giving muscle contractions that were his equivalent to a shrug. "You're welcome, by the way."

"..." Isis looked down at the metal floor grating. Puffed her cheeks. "...thank you, Mik'hul..." she mumbled.

"Heh heh, you're welcome, little lady!"

Hsss.

"Yo, you girls alright?" Double Tap said, leaning through the doorway.

"I guess..." Isis said, rubbing her eyes. "I don't look forward to doing that on the way back..."

"Mmhmm," Daisy mumbled, fiddling further with the panel.

"Cool," the Star said, nodding. "Elster wanted to know if we've got the machine working yet."

"It's functioning," Daisy nodded. "Whether it works, remains to be seen."

"I need to send a message to mom," Isis said, rising to her hooves. She stepped carefully over the tangle of wires running across the floor. Navigated around the large device that dominated the room.

"Cool, let's talk later, m'kay?" Mik'hul said, one mouth sucking absentmindedly on a set of diodes. Wires ran from them to the central device.

"Whatever," Isis said, crossing her arms. She exited the room. "D.T., I'm going to the kitchen."

"Sure," Double Tap said, nodding. She looked to the Ara. "You good here, Dais?"

"Just need to make sure everything is calibrated," Daisy said, tuning a knob on the device's control panel. She studied the screen, tapping a button to cycle through menus. "Go make sure no one is coming to intercept, okay?"

"Sure."

 

"You good, kid?"

Hooves clanked on metal flooring as the Kolibri wandered the kitchen floor. She unlatched the door of the fridge and opened it, retrieving a bottle of cold water.

"Yeah, I'm just...tired," Isis said, rubbing her eyes. Wandered to the tiny table. "That trip took a lot out of me."

"Well, Elster says it'll take us a bit to reach that moon, or whatever it is," Hippolyta said, hand digging into a bag of dried mealworms. Popped a few in her mouth. "Mnch...so..." She chewed and swallowed. "...if you need to rest, the bunk next door is open."

"I think I will," Isis said, stretching arms over her head. "Ngh...I just need to do some astrotelepathy."

"Can't it wait?" Hippolyta said, frowning. She leaned back in her chair and kicked her hooves up on a storage box next to the table. "If you're tired, you don't need to do it now."

"I promised to send a message the moment we translated in," Isis said, sitting down. "Besides, if I rest now, I might not have time before we need to deploy."

"..." The Storch frowned. She sat up and reached out a hand. "You know...there's still time to change your mind. If you want to stay behind on the ship. Goodness knows Sally needs more company than the daemon."

I heard that, Hippolyta, Mik'hul thought, indignantly.

"Quiet you," the Storch muttered, looking sharply away. She looked back to her...would Hippolyta classify Isis as her own daughter? Step daughter? "No one will mind if you want to sit this one out."

"...no," Isis said, looking down at the table. Pressed a hand to her forehead. "I want to do this. It's the mission we've been working towards for two and a half years." She looked up. "Plus...you girls might need my...talents." She smiled. "Or do you think you haven't done a good job training me?"

"Tch," Hippolyta inclined her head back arrogantly. "As if." Her expression softened. "But...you could always be more prepared. More hours at the range, more time running drills. More...experience in less dangerous missions. Xana is The Big One. It doesn't need to be your first trial by fire."

Isis reached out and joined hands with the Storch. "It's going to be dangerous no matter what, my first time," the Kolibri said. "There's no avoiding that. Moreover, since it's so dangerous, it's all the more reason for me to back you up."

"…" Hippolyta sighed, fingers stroking the diminutive replika's hand. "I guess..."

"We couldn't even bring Jenny or the Schnappers," Isis said, smiling. "So we need all the tools we can get. That includes bioresonance."

"I get that," Hippolyta nodded. Pursed her lips. "Just so you know, like I said before...this will be an enclosed area we're infiltrating. Once we're in there, it won't be easy getting out. If we have to leave before mission success, especially if we're discovered, they might not give us a chance to infiltrate again. So if we extract, that's probably it, unless we get lucky..."

"I understand," Isis nodded, seriously.

"That said, don't feel like you need to push yourself beyond your limits, either," Hippolyta said, turning her head to side-eye the Kolibri. "Even with something as important as this mission, our survival takes precedence. We don't take stupid risks, and we prioritize us. That's what Elster always says. She can pay her debt some other way, if she needs to."

"Right," Isis said, nodding. She frowned. No matter how much Hippolyta and Elster say the Xana mission took a backseat...Isis knew how big a win it would be for Elster.

Hippolyta eyed the Kolibri sadly. Seemed to sense the little one's reservations. "...just...things might get intense down there," the Storch said. "While you're entirely within your right to feel overwhelmed or scared, or like you can't do it anymore...it IS a mission. And our survival, much less success, depends on everyone being on top of their game. So...whatever happens, just...be strong. For me. For your mother. For Elster...for Ariane..."

Isis squeezed the Storch's hand firmly. "...I will. I promise."

"No matter what happens, try to keep your head. It's time to be a big girl, Isis."

The Kolibri smiled. "Come on, Hip," Isis said. "I'm not a child."

Hippolyta smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I guess you're not."

 

Hssss.

"Any sign we've been found out?"

Hooves clacked on metal flooring. Three sets of faces turned to glance back, before looking forward again. The front window was filled with stars. A gas giant loomed large in their view, even so far away. A tiny speck showed up against the surface. Their target. Xana-Tisiphone.

"Not yet, I don't think," Double Tap said, leaning on the back of the copilot seat. Thankfully she and Hippolyta wore their Ara legs for the mission, so she only needed to stoop slightly. "Nobody's hailed us or...fired at us."

"Radio chatter has been really sparse our here," Sally said, tuning the radio knob in front of them. She checked a screen showing the rear view for the hundredth time since they translated in. "Mostly machine code, I think."

"Might be distant stations or satellites pinging low bandwidth information to each other," Elster said, hands steady on the control stick.

"Shouldn't a Forge domain have tons of chatter?" Sally said, turning her head and raising an eyebrow. "They're all about information and such here."

"It's probably all happening on the Noosphere," Daisy said, leaning on the back of the pilot's seat. She fidgeted with a loop on her tool belt.

"What's the Noosphere?" Double Tap said, frowning.

"It's a wireless network of information transfer," Daisy said. "It incorporates 'Aether' as a medium of communication."

Sally and Double Tap looked at Daisy, then at Elster.

Elster threw a hand up. "Don't look at me," she said. "Diodana tried to teach me. I don't get it." The replika commander sighed. She must be getting old.

"You'll get it eventually, I'm sure," Daisy said, nodding. "If nothing else, when we get you a Noosphere module, you'll pick it up easily enough. It's rather intuitive, once you get the hang of it."

"So...can you read what they're talking about on that...Noose-sphere?" Double Tap said, pointing at the Ara.

"I can try, yes," Daisy said. She shut her eyes, concentrating.

"..."

She fidgeted with the zipper on her navy blue jumpsuit. "...I...don't think they've spotted us. They'd probably be talking about us, if they had."

"They probably would have scrambled defenses, if they had," Elster said, shrugging.

Daisy cocked her head to the side. "...they're talking to some other ship," she said. "Did someone arrive?"

"Yeah, we detected Warp translation a few minutes ago," Sally said, tapping buttons.

The replikas looked at another screen, showing a radar feed of the local area. An object larger than the Penrose by multiple orders of magnitude flew towards the same planetoid they sought.

"I don't like the look of that," Double Tap said, leaning in to look at the screen. "Looks like they have the same idea as us."

"I think they were invited," Daisy said. "Noosphere chatter is talking about preparing for arrival of the...Cicathrice Tyrannis. I think it might be that ship."

"Do we know what they're saying to them?"

The Ara shook her head. "Not on the Noosphere. The other ship is probably communicating through normal radio."

"Probably direct transmission, too," Elster said. "Intercepting their conversation is probably a no-go, unless they're not bothering to keep comms secret. Unlikely."

Still..., Elster thought, tuning her internal radio module, couldn't hurt to check. She began cycling through frequencies.

"So who does that ship belong to?" Sally asked, looking back to the Ara.

"I think..." Daisy crossed her arms, concentrating. "Yes, the Cicathrice Tyrannis is a vessel belonging to the Sons of Horus."

"Oh..."

"Noosphere chatter says there's going to be an exchange..." Daisy nodded. "Yes, on Xana-Tisiphone."

"So, we ARE going to the same place," Double Tap said. She stood up and crossed her arms, frowning. "Great..."

Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Most radio chatter is just static," she said. "Or...data that would only make sense to proprietary Xanian systems, probably."

"Are we going to be okay, going to Xana-Tisiphone?" Sally said, frowning. She looked around. "If they're all meeting there, what happens to us?"

"...might be why we were intended to get here when we did," Elster muttered.

"Hmm?" Sally said.

"I think it's...fine, honestly," Elster said, shutting her eyes. "If we haven't been discovered yet, it means our Device worked. Which means their instruments won't see us, unless we're right on top of them."

It was always a major gamble, showing up to a technologically advanced, highly militant pocket empire with their own experimental reproduction of barely understood archeotech. One bootstrapped with a Tzeentch daemon's native stealthiness, no less. Sure, they tested extensively, or as much as they could given the time table. But they'd never know how well it would baffle Mechanicum sensorium suites, until they actually put it to the test.

That it seemed to work was a major boon, and a promising sign for their experiments going forward.

Elster didn't want to contemplate overmuch the idea the Xanians might have spotted them immediately, and were either lulling them into a false sense of security, or at best considered the Penrose beneath even comment among themselves.

"Hmm...maybe these Sons of Horus guys being around might even help us," the Star said, nodding. "The Xanians will be so busy with bringing the Horusites in, they won't notice us make planetfall."

"Here's hoping," Elster said, crossing her fingers. "Although if we get spotted, that far in, I don't know if we could..."

Bing. Bing. Bing.

"Ah!" Sally flinched, sitting up in her chair. "What?"

"Another Warp translation?" Double Tap said, cocking an eyebrow. "Where is it?"

Furious button pushing, before the radar displayed the newcomers.

The many newcomers.

"Scheisse," Elster muttered, leaning over at the screen. She tapped buttons, bringing up long-range cameras pointing backwards. "There they are."

"..." Daisy pressed fingers to her head.

"That's not good, is it?" Double Tap said, leaning far over on the chair. "There's just...so many of them..."

The screen showed a succession of voidships translate in-system. Five capital ships, innumerable escort craft, and...

"A Gloriana Class Battleship," Daisy said, opening her eyes.

"How do you know?" Elster said, looking over her shoulder.

"They're talking about it on the Noosphere," Daisy said, frowning. "It's...they're pretty sure it's the Loyalists."

"The Imperium? Here?" Double Tap said, eyeing the Ara. "Why?"

"...because the Horusites are here," Elster said, inclining her head back fractionally. "Nobody knew which way the Vodian Consistory would pledge, this whole time. Now, I guess, the Imperium has either come to enforce Xana's participation on the Loyalist side..."

"In which case, Xana just got caught with their pants down," Double Tap said, permitting herself a small smile. "Fraternizing with the Warmaster won't look too good."

"...OR," Elster continued, stroking her chin pensively, "the Loyalists have already written Xana off as a lost cause."

"...which would mean they're here to fight," Sally mumbled, sinking down in her chair. Her face went pale. "Are...are we going to be caught in the middle of this?"

"They're deploying their defenses," Daisy said, neutrally.

Bing.

Bing, bing.

Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing, Bing.

Replika eyes looked at the radar screen, as the entire system lit up.

"...h-how many defenses?" Sally asked, smiling nervously.

Elster furrowed her brow.

"From the looks of it...all of them."

 

"[Awaken, Guardians. Awaken, and defend your masters. By the glory of Xana and the Machine God!]"

Deep on the periphery of the system, ancient cogitators stirred. Shrugging off the slumber of ages, automated attack craft ignited cold engines. Servitor ships thawed their pilots from cryostasis, neurons firing according to the dictates of brain implants. Asteroid-mounted defense batteries opened up and turned their guns toward distant ships that approached at full burn from the void.

In the darkest corners of Xana's locale volume, automata cephalopods the size of cities unfurled. Colossal cyber-eyes trained on the feckless intruders.

Such scenes repeated across the length and breadth of the system. Stations built into asteroids or dwarf planets - Forge-fanes unto themselves - marshaled their defenses. Tahgmata, bound by oaths of feudal loyalty to their Synods, and from them to the Archmagoi, and from them still to the Vodian Consistory above them, rallied. Vassals roused from sleep to man their stations, and vessels roused from stillness to meet the presumptuous foe.

Xana's Noosphere exploded to life. A flurry of activity, planning, and logistics.

On Xana II, ensconced in the mightiest defenses their Forge-fanes could buy over millennia of preparation, the Vodian Consistory watched their civilization rise to the occasion. Watched the sum total of their military might marshaled, ready for war as they'd knew might come the moment the Imperium landed at their door and Xana invited them in.

Just as their martial resources flew out to meet the Loyalist dogs, the great gifts from Horus Lupercal flowed into Xana II. Great containers, stacked atop one another in the shipyards of multiple different planetary Forge-fanes. Kept under coded locks, of course, but containing a kingly prize of genetic and technological lore. The dead of Isstvan V. A trove of knowledge on the Astartes, waiting to be claimed.

All they needed to do was impress Horus's representative. But now, merely demonstrating the might of their gifts would not be enough. The Vodian Consistory would have to prove their worth as a military power unto themselves. Prove they could be an ally worth courting. Prove able to fight, and WIN, against the Imperium.

The Vodian Consistory relished the challenge.

In truth, though, there was little challenge to be had. Logisticians ran the numbers, down to the last macrocannon shell and rad carbine round. Their projections were sound. The forces arrayed against them hardly unmanageable.

"The chances of anything coming to Xana II were a million to one," they said.

But still, they come.

 

"Fucking shit. Look at 'em go."

Lights flashed in great trails, outside the rear window. Against the extra-galactic void, artificial stars streaked across the heavens. Converging in greater and greater formations towards a cluster of other artificial stars that approached, slowly but surely.

Hippolyta whistled, hand pressed against the window frame. "Looks like they're about to have a party."

"Right," Isis muttered, nodding. Hand pressed against the glass. Her mind probing out.

What she sensed told her everything she needed to know.

Elster, Isis thought, narrowing her eyes. Those guys back there who just arrived? They're pissed.

I figured that much, Elster thought. In what way? Are they surprised?

No, Isis said, shaking her head for emphasis. They've been planning this. This wasn't a diplomatic envoy. They're here to kill. Nor do most of them expect to leave. The ships are mostly empty. They're all about offense.

A suicide attack? Elster thought, with more than a little concern. ...they must really want Xana dead.

Or something like it. Many of the Xanian craft are much the same. Mostly dumb ships, piloted by servitors or...those weird half-intelligences the automata have. Isis sneered in disgust, fingers curling against the glass. In that they think at all, it's only about killing the intruders.

"..." Elster paused, thinking. But not us, right?

Isis permitted herself a small smile. No. Not us.

 

"Perfect."

"Huh?" Double Tap said, stroking her chin. She looked to the pilot seat. "You say something?"

Elster rubbed her fingers together. "Daisy."

"Yes?" the Ara said, leaning over Elster's shoulder.

"What are they talking about, vis a vis that exchange they're doing?" Elster said, eyes looking sideways.

"..." Daisy inclined her head up, eyes closed. "...the deal is still on."

"...good," Elster said, nodding. Pressed a thumb to her lips.

Double Tap's face lit up. "Oh, I see," the Star said.

"What?" Sally said, looking between them. "What's going on?"

The boss just figured out why the Arkifane needed her here, at this very moment, Mik'hul thought, chuckling to himself.

"Eh?" Sally said, looking up in surprise. "W-why?"

"Because if there was ever going to be a good time to sneak in and do a jailbreak...," Double Tap said, smiling. "...it's now. When they're fighting a battle AND trying to entertain guests."

"Exactly." Elster nodded. Pointed toward the dismal planetoid growing slowly before them.

"Rest up, girls. In a couple hours, we'll hit the surface, and make our move."

She smiled to herself.

Don't worry, Ariane, Elster thought. I'll get you out soon enough.

Chapter 65: Ordinatus

Notes:

The second part of Oculus Imperia's telling of the Xana Incursion will be linked in a future chapter. To preserve, as much as possible, the surprise for plot elements.

"How long will we entertain this charade?"

Ceramite boots in the hundreds stomped gray dirt flat, as legionaries in sea-green power armor filed from their transports. Companies formed into rough columns. Regular enough for practicality and to project an ironclad sense of unity, but not so regular as to betray their deception.

A marine elbowed the compatriot beside him with force that would break a baseline human's bones. "Quiet!" he said over helmet vox. "Xanians may be listening!"

"...ah..." the first marine said, helmet turning to regard his fellows. "Apologies."

"What kind of talk is that?" said another marine, assuming a joking tone. "You sound like a simpering Loyalist."

"Yes," said another, "you're a Son of Horus. Remember that."

On the surface, it was good-natured shit-talk among ganger scum elevated to transhuman power. This, they hoped, would be the only layer the Xanians would recognize, were they listening in.

Beneath it, a reproach. "Keep in character, idiot," it seemed to say.

Sergeant Anton Weir turned his head back to regard his new squad. A promotion, in recognition for how he and his fellow Medusan Blackshields provided their newfound "expertise" in preparing the "gifts" to the Vodian Consistory. Gifts already arriving in bulk to Xana II.

"We will play along with this farce, until the Engines are in our possession," he said, frowning behind his mask. "Or...until 'Koraddon' says otherwise. In any event, remain on your guard."

His eyes wandered to the distant horizon. Studied lines of manufactora, prometheum pipelines, and rocky ridges. Superhuman cognition already took in the lay of the land, for what could easily become their next battlefield.

"Hmm?" he muttered quietly to himself, as his eyes - one natural and one augmetic - spied an object crossing the sky kilometers away. With mental impulse, telescopic instruments in his lenses enhanced the image for him.

He stopped in his tracks, double checking the image was correct.

...why are you here?, he thought grimly. His face twitched, as a phantom pain in his augmetic eye flared up.

"Sir?" one of his subordinates said, as the entire line behind them slowed to accommodate the officer. "Is something the matter?"

"...negative," Weir said, head following the line of the craft's flight until it disappeared beyond a ridge. He swiftly turned and resumed walking. "It is nothing. Move out."

The other marines, only vaguely nonplussed, followed without missing a beat.

The former Iron Hands legionary scowled. He studied the pict capture of the Eusan shuttle for a second more, before banishing it from his helmet interface.

Whatever business brings you here, replikas, makes no difference to me. Just stay out of my way.

 

"What's the prognosis?"

Booted hooves crunched on pebbled ground. Fabric billowed in the wind as a tarp was slowly draped over a gray shuttle. Stones picked up and placed on the edges, to keep the camouflage in place. An all-terrain vehicle wheeled manually out from where it was unlatched from the shuttle's body, waiting to be thrummed to life.

A gloved finger tapped a wrist-mounted apparatus. Sensors tasted the atmosphere.

"...I don't know if I'd want to be out in it for hours," Elster said, lowering her arm, "but the air IS breathable. The Xanians must have klimaformed this place. They've had enough time to, even without bioresonance."

"...so, can I take the helmet off?" Isis asked, hands clasped behind her back as best they could. Even the smallest Auxilia voidsuit needed to be modified to fit her body. Even then, the pseudo-rubber of the suit sagged visibly on her tiny frame.

Elster looked off in the distance, seeing through her circular helmet lenses. A replika servo skull, equipped with a suite of auspex scanners, fed information to her digital interface. Every member of the team had such a drone, though each was equipped to a different purpose.

The gray paint job on her suit helped her, quite accidentally, blend in somewhat with her surroundings. The team brought multiple colors of tarp, not knowing what mode of camouflage they needed.

"...it's probably alright," she said, nodding. "If only to save oxygen. But keep your face mask on. If we get spotted, we don't want our faces being recorded. Or then, Xana will be the enemy of every replika - or at least every member of our respective unit types - from now on."

"R-right," Isis said, hands rising to twist off her helmet. It hissed, and came free. The Kolibri whipped her bob-cut hair back and forth, already partially soaked in sweat. "How do you girls wear these things for so long?"

"We get used to it," Elster shrugged. She removed her own helmet, latching it to her belt.

The two replikas raised cloth face masks up over their noses. Black, to match the color of the hard face masks worn by Star units.

Vrrroomm.

"I got the car working!" Daisy called, waving an arm over her head. Mechandendrites sticking out of the back of her suit fiddled with instruments.

She sat behind the wheel of their all-terrain buggy. No roof, nor doors. Just a boxy metal frame arching over the vehicle's top, where optional canvas coverings could be mounted in the event of inclement weather.

Even setting aside weight limitations for the shuttle, Elster and Diodana both concluded if anyone started firing on them, they'd have the penetration to shred any armor plating the Aras could easily apply. Speed and stealth would need to be the name of the game.

Double Tap and Hippolyta jogged over from the camouflaged shuttle, stowing weapons on their backs. Their servo skulls bobbed in the air, following.

"I guess it's now or never," Isis said, looking to their commander. "Right?"

Elster took one last look around. At the rocky wasteland in every direction, broken by occasional metal vent towers or manufactora in the far distance. She nodded.

"Alright, everyone. Mission start."

 

"What are they doing down there?"

The transport bounded and rumbled as it crested a ridge. Hugged a flat edge just enough to give them a vantage on the expansive canyon below, without risk of falling over. Or, worse, being spotted.

Something told Elster, however, Xanian observers were more focused on the massive army of space marine legionaries stood on the opposite ridge. A sea-green blob on the horizon.

"Don't know," Elster said, splitting her focus between the wide view her eyes gave her, and the feed from the sensor skull clinging by a prehensile wire to the upper frame of their car. Its sensor suite granting her binocular view of the marine forces. "...they're meeting with some Xanian tech priest, it looks like."

Daisy, eyes on the path ahead, scanned the local Noosphere. "Apparently, there's some kind of exchange going on...or a...demonstration?"

"What do you think they're demonstrating?" Double Tap said, looking through a pair of regular binoculars. She passed them to Hippolyta, who sat on the back of her seat, hand steadying her on the metal frame.

The Storch scanned the horizon, spotting a collection of bare, utilitarian buildings to one side of the canyon below. High-rises jutted from the gray earth, with the vaguest suggestions of paved streets framed by mounds of hastily cleared debris. "...they've got a whole mock city down there, whatever it is...eh?" She jerked her binoculars to a section of the valley nearest the marines. "...the fuck is...?"

"I see it too," Elster said, leaning toward the side of the car, as their travel hugged the ridge. She switched frantically between regular eyes and the skull's.

Three square holes opened up in the canyon below. Doors slid open, showering the cavernous space beneath with rocks and pebbles. Slowly, silhouettes became visible, before the light of day fully hit them.

Isis clung to Elster's back, looking over her shoulder. "...what...are they?"

Enormous platforms lifted the machines to ground level. Each stood on four tank treads, to bear the comical weight of the long barrels atop. The principles behind their operation could only be guessed at by the ignorant replikas, but their base natures were indisputable: massive guns.

"...Ashurax...Mithrax...Nepothax..."

Double Tap tore her eyes away from the expanse, to look at the driver. "What?"

Daisy couldn't stop taking her eyes off the ground in front to peek at the valley below. To catch glimpses at the war machines arrayed in a line. "...that's what they call them," she muttered, becoming agitated. "Their names are Ashurax, Mithrax, and Nepothax..."

Elster looked back to the Ara, then over to the Storch. "Hip, take the wheel from Daisy."

"Sure," Hippolyta said, passing the binoculars back to Double Tap. She stood up in the car. "Switch places, Dais. You're obviously too smitten to drive."

The Ara gratefully slowed the car, then climbed out of her seat. Mechadendrites steadied her as she navigated the exterior of the vehicle and took the Storch's spot. "Th-thank you," she mumbled, peeking out from behind the Star.

"Alright, now it's my turn to drive," Hippolyta said, smiling. She jammed the accelerator and sent them zooming ahead.

"So what the hell are these things, Dais?" Double Tap said, steadying herself on the car's metal frame, to compensate for the acceleration.

Daisy stared out on the valley, rapt. "...Ordinatus Engines..."

"What's that mean?" Hippolyta said, keeping her eyes on the 'road'.

"Diodana told us about them in passing, but..." Daisy said, adjusting her cloth mask breathlessly. "...I never thought I'd see one. Much less three."

"Okay, what does that mean?" Hippolyta said, glancing impatiently over her shoulder.

"Big guns, I would assume," Elster said, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes," Daisy said, nodding. "Very big guns."

"Oh." Hippolyta turned her eyes firmly on the path ahead. She steered them around a rocky outcropping.

"Huh," said Double Tap, blinking. When the valley came back into view, she leaned back in her seat and studied the landscape. "So...Xana are offering to trade these big guns for...something, I imagine. But the buyers want to make sure they're getting good product, right?"

"If I was going to buy an Ordinatus Engine," Daisy said, eyes fixed on the huge weapons below, "I'd want to know they were real, and not forgeries."

"Guess that's what the fake city is for," Hippolyta said, shrugging. "Mystery solved."

"...it's not the city."

The group turned, as Isis clung close to Elster. She shivered.

"...what's the matter, sweetie?" Elster said, looking over her shoulder.

"They're afraid," Isis said, brow furrowed in pain.

Elster looked back out. "...who?"

"Wait," Daisy said, raising a finger. She stared off into space. "Something else is happening."

"Oi," Double Tap said, raising her binoculars. "Those big doors are opening!" She pointed.

At the opposite end of the canyon to the marines, at a mass of fortifications and manufactora the replika vehicle was headed, massive metal doors stood at the base of the ridge. Set in the sheer rock itself. One by one, the doors opened. Rising up, revealing cavernous space within.

"It's them," Isis breathed, hand clutching the armor plate on Elster's shoulder. "They're the ones who are afraid."

Swallowing hard, Elster turned her servo skull and got a better look.

From the openings, they came. First dozens, then hundreds, then thousands.

Hands rose to block harsh sunlight. Every possible weapon at the ready, from lasguns and laslocks, to improvised spears and metal pipes. Feet in various degrees of shod stamped the gray earth. As they poured into the valley, they kicked up a growing cloud of gray dust, carried away on the wind.

Behind and amid them, automata, tracked servitors, and Thallax cyborg troops marched or rolled. Directed by tech priests well behind the lines of the "army" sent forth.

"Holy shit," Double Tap mumbled, staring through the binoculars.

"What?" Hippolyta said, head taking brief glances sideways. "What is it? What is...oh..."

She stepped on the breaks, bringing them to a stop. Parked.

"...are those...?" Hippolyta said, standing up in her seat to get a better look.

"People, yes," Elster said, frowning. Her long-vision played over the marching throng. "...I think...some of them are Loyalist soldiers..."

Daisy pressed a thumb to her lips. "...prisoners-of-war...criminals...Adsecularis tech-thralls...servitors...even random menials..."

"...please tell me the Xanians had a change of heart," Double Tap said, eyes widening. "Or they had a falling out just now, and they're rushing to attack the marines..."

Elster swallowed, a pit forming in her stomach. "...the marines don't seem worried. They don't seem bothered at all."

"They're afraid," Isis whispered, clapping a hand over her mouth. "The people down there. They're terrified."

"If they're so scared..." Hippolyta said, gulping, "...why are they marching?"

"If they don't, they'll be killed," Isis said, shaking her head. "They have explosive collars...oh sweet empress..."

Daisy chewed her thumb through her mask. "...this...isn't necessary," she whispered. "You don't need this to prove your point...they're Ordinatus, for Machine God's sake..."

By some unseen signal, the mock army charged.

More clouds of dust arose, almost obscuring the mass of flesh and metal from sight. Those with vision long enough to see read it on their faces. Or at least on those faces who could still display emotions.

They scowled, wept, cackled in rage and fear and desperation. Hurled curses and prayers and sobs. Even so far away, their maddened shouts and yells and defiant voices carried on the wind. Carried on, heedless of - or in deference to - the suicidal odds. Certain death behind them, or almost certain death in front.

It was the madness of those told, simply, to charge and survive. That if they could just reach the weapons on the other end, and take them down, they could live. Perhaps, even be free.

The cleverest among them, of course, ran with the stony faces or tears of those who knew, beyond a doubt, they were doomed. Meat for the grinder, grist for the mill. Moving targets for a live fire test.

The Kolibri clutched her chest, heart racing. Overwhelmed by the deluge of second-hand emotion. Eyes wide, sweat pouring down her face.

Slowly, the Engines rotated their barrels. Sighted, adjusted angle. Precise aim was superfluous. But the operators were nothing if not thorough. The test would be followed to the letter.

Lightning coruscated across their barrels, as they powered up.

"..." Isis gasped, a tear rolling down her face. "...please..."

What happened next happened between the tick of a clock.

The Engines trembled, pitching back minutely. The air around them bulged, a shockwave of titanic proportions that cleared the ground around them of debris. Three invisible lines of force shot forward, quick as a bullet.

Dust clouds, thick as could be, parted in an instant. Giving the various witnesses, all around, an unobstructed view of the "army" struck by pure, unadulterated sound.

Those nominally at the center of their targets were blasted to atoms. Disintegrated into a fine, red mist. The Engines, in their own way, granted these people the greatest mercy. They were, and then they were not.

Beyond this radius of total obliteration, the surrounding rush of human life were "merely" struck by force great enough to ALSO kill them instantly. Their weapons, shattered. Their armor, where they wore such, shattered. Their bones, shattered. Men and women knocked bodily from boots and socks, brains jellied. Automata, disassembled into component parts.

Those beyond that radius might even have survived long enough to feel the sonic destruction slam into their bodies. Ears blown out and spilling red, as they were knocked down or struck by their broken comrades closer to the blasts. Those that lived beyond this initial hit would never hear again.

Those beyond that radius, sustaining tertiary damage from shrapnel and sound rocking through their internal organs, fell to the ground, covering bleeding ears. Many of these would also never hear again.

It was at this point, as expanding air wiped the canyon clear of dust particles, that the sonic bursts hit those at the extreme edges. Including the replikas high above.

B O O M !

It was an apocalyptic noise.

Even kilometers away, it was casually the loudest sound any of the replikas - or the space marines on the far ridge, for that matter - had ever heard. It vibrated the ground, and the air. It rattled their metal bones, probing vainly for resonance to shake them apart at a structural level. It failed in this, though not for lack of trying.

The wind slapped them in the face with force that might have winded them, had they not immediately covered their ears in pain. Like the sound of a flashbang grenade going off next to them, only a full body experience.

"Aaaaagh!" Elster screamed, shutting her eyes. Her ears rang. It was the only sound she heard, as the entire world fell away. She could not even hear herself bark the word, "FUCK!"

Cracking open an eye, teeth clenched, she looked up again. "...ngh..." she grunted, moisture welling in her eyes as she gazed across the vast expanse.

She'd only had a fraction of a second to see the devastation of the "army" below, before the shockwaves sent the entire team screaming. When she looked up again, she saw three thick rings of scarlet in the middle of the canyon. Stretched out before those poor souls who remained alive in the thick of the carnage.

"...fuck..." she breathed, once again unable to hear her own voice over the ringing in her ears.

Isis pressed herself against Elster's back. When the replika commander looked over her shoulder, she saw the Kolibri's face streaked with tears. Of sorrow and horror, yes, but mostly of pain. She clapped hands over her ears, looking up desperately at Elster.

"..." Elster leaned back and hugged the Kolibri, rubbing her head even as her own teeth were gritted in agony. She knew calming words would not carry. Her touch would have to suffice.

Double Tap, hand over one ear, nudged Elster's shoulder. Pointed toward the valley, wincing in pain.

Her mother looked over and eyes widened.

Far below, the Engines once again shifted, seeking new targets. And, once again, the "army" below, or what remained of it, staggered to its collective feet and charged. Beyond terrified now, beyond any forlorn hope of surviving the day. Some, indeed, turned and ran back where they came. They did not get far, before a brief flash. Their necks exploded, popping their heads like corks. Bodies sent sprawling to the ground.

Punishment for disobedience. An example to the rest. To what degree it worked was ultimately immaterial. Whether charging or fleeing, the result would be the same.

The Engines readied to speak again.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Elster barked into the interminable silence. She frantically pawed at her belt. "Helmets! Get your helmets on! Hurry!"

"WHAT!?" Hippolyta yelled, fingers jammed in her ears. Only catching a muffled yell.

Elster looked back at her deafened, pain-wracked progeny, and nudged Isis. She raised her helmet, and pointed at her temple. "Helmets! Tell them!" she shouted, punctuating the point with sign language.

Isis nodded, then pawed at her own belt. She said to put your helmets on, quickly!, she thought, broadcast to everyone close.

Looking towards the valley, disaster manifestly about to unfold again, the rest of the team needed no prompting. They scrambled, unlatching helmets and jamming them over their heads.

When the Storch had her helmet on, Elster clapped her on the shoulder. Pointed away, down the low slope, far from the ridge. Her hands signed, "[Get us out of here!]"

"O-okay!" Nodding, Hippolyta grabbed the steering wheel, shifted gears, pulled her foot off the break, and slammed down on the accelerator. Everyone was knocked back in their seat, as the vehicle peeled off. Dust kicked up by tire treads.

They sank below the ridgeline, out of view of the valley, when the apocalyptic sound thundered again.

B O O M !

Thankfully, between the solid rock behind them and the enclosed, padded helmets, it was only extremely loud. The entire group flinched, as their bodies were rocked by vibrations through the ground.

They drove as fast as their buggy would go. Heedless of bumpy terrain or the possibility of being seen.

They had to put as much distance between themselves and the atrocity behind them as possible.

In time, the booming noise grew fainter, though never disappeared for long. After a few minutes, their hearing slowly returned, though the ringing in their ears remained.

For some, it remained for hours. For others, a degree of tinnitus would persist indefinitely, until their deaths.

Daisy curled her legs up and hugged her knees. A hand pressed to her helmet, as she shook her head. "...it...it didn't have to be this way..." she mumbled to herself. "Machine God, it didn't..."

Double Tap looked out the back, teeth clenched. She watched rocks at the top of the ridge jump in the air with each distant boom. She frowned, feeling it in her bones.

Hippolyta's hands clutched the steering wheel painfully. Trying to power through the pain, and the horror.

Beside her, Elster hugged Isis close, as the Kolibri trembled. Each time the boom sounded over the ridge, she squeaked. Beneath her helmet, tears rolled down her face. She sobbed, shrinking into a ball.

Why?, she thought, barely holding her horror and grief back from infecting the others by habit alone. Why are they still firing? How...how many are they going to...oh empress, they just keep coming! I can still see them! I can hear their screams! Why!?

Patting the girl's helmeted head, Elster glared forward. Jaw clenched. An angry lump in her throat.

Damn you, Xana. Wahnsinnige. Lunatics. Heartless murderers, blood-crazed fiends.

Chapter 66: Going Down

Clank. Clank. Clank.

Ancient, neglected steam pipes warmed the stagnant air of the tunnels. Moisture clung to the undersides of lower coolant pipes, that ran parallel to the first. Every few seconds, a bead of water would accumulate, until its weight overcame surface tension.

Drip.

Sweat accumulated, too. On the brow of a lonely servitor, as he marched ponderously through the maze of tunnels on steel feet.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

Water fed into his veins automatically from a back-mounted reservoir. As much a concession to the slave's biological needs as the augmetic eye jammed in his head, to accommodate his need to see.

Why illuminate the tunnels, when the servitors needed augmetics installed anyway?

Drip.

On he trudged, through the dark and the intolerable warmth. Working double shifts, since so many of his fellow drones were diverted upstairs. Granted the dubious honor of participating in the "demonstration", more to pad numbers than anything.

Boom.

He stopped momentarily. The cogitator parasitising his brain compensated for the sound, and for the vibrations in the tunnel. Dust fell from the rockcrete ceiling, and flakes of rust from the pipes.

A pipe, jostled by the vibrations, dripped out of sync.

What remained of the man's consciousness found the disruption of the numbing, repetitive noise grating. He would be glad at the absence of any greater lucidity, were he not so blessedly non-lucid.

"..."

Clank. Clank. Cl-

Zap.

Had the las bolt not compromised his cranium to a permanent end, he (or his cogitator) might have been startled by the sudden blaze of scarlet that illuminated the whole tunnel.

Smoking and sparking and twitching, the servitor toppled headfirst to the metal floor grating. Charred brain matter spilled out, still sizzling.

Drip.

Booted hoofsteps trudged slowly on the floor. Quickly passed over the fallen servitor, stepping lightly around by the aid of their helmet night vision.

Boom.

Their most diminutive member flinched, head turning. Lenses looked at the ceiling.

"You sure you're okay, kid?" Hippolyta said softly, over the radio. She turned back, to watch their rear.

"I-I'm fine," Isis lied, swallowing. She inhaled. Exhaled. "Just...surprised me."

"Hopefully, as we descend," Elster said, checking her lasgun ammo reflexively, "the Engines will be harder to hear."

Drip.

"...why are they still firing?" Isis said, stepping gingerly around the servitor's corpse. She scowled, pressing her back against the wall to side-step the gore leaking through the grates. "You'd think...ew...they'd at least run out of...people to kill. Haven't they made their point, yet?"

"You're not more sad about this poor bastard?" Hippolyta said, gesturing down at the sparking cadaver with her laspistol.

Isis took one last look back down at the servitor. "...there wasn't much left of him inside, anyway," she said, sadly. The Kolibri looked ahead, jogging to catch up with the others. "There was no more harm they could do to him than they hadn't done already..."

Hippolyta huffed. "...yeah..."

 

"[Unknown Warp translation. Feeding coordinates.]"

"[Acknowledged...there must be an error.]"

"[These are the coordinates monitoring instruments supplied.]"

"[The instruments must be faulty, then. Check them again.]"

"[I checked them while you were rebuking me. There is no error.]"

"[There MUST be. No one would be suicidal enough to translate so far in-syste-]"

Alarms blared. Augmetic eyes scrambled, switching to camera feeds.

There could be no mistake now.

 

The Xana-Vicidex star rose over the surface of Xana I. The gas giant, a placid, multi-colored marble, dominated the local volume. Ringed by dense debris fields, orbiting defense batteries, and hundreds of bulk haulers and macro-carriers. Their holds laden with the spoils of recent raids on neighboring systems.

From their vantage on Xana II - plucked in millennia past from its former loop around the star and placed in orbit around Xana I - the Vodian Consistory regarded their kingly prize. Offerings carefully cultivated, for delivery to, hopefully, their new benefactor.

So long as their demonstrations on Xana-Tisiphone, itself also shadowed by Xana I, proceeded apace. Along with the uninvited, but assiduously met, challenge from Imperial Loyalists at system's edge. The fighting there would be costly, but manageable.

Despite suboptimal circumstances, the consensus on the Noospheric tele-links held the situation well in hand.

When Warp incursion was detected, defense grids roared to life. Scoured the local volume for millions of kilometers around the gas giant for threats.

Were their instruments not baffled by certain esoteric, daemon-enhanced archeo-tech, they might have spotted the tiny exploratory craft in orbit around their penal planetoid. Even if they had, however, such a craft was negligible in the extreme. It could not have triggered such a total response.

Xanian defenders neglected to look at Xana I itself.

From the placid orb, it came. Breaking through the surface like a cetacean from the ocean waves, the vessel hove up from the shadowed side of the gas giant.

On the Penrose 313, Sally pressed her face to the cockpit windows.

"What the hell is that!?" she shouted, eyes transfixed on the craft that plunged up from the gaseous deep.

The daemon cackled over the intercom. "The ballsiest mother-fuckers in all the Abomination's Legions! The guys he gave the BEST toys!"

An Archeo-Cruiser, engines at full burn, hove into the light of the star. Weapons charged. Crew filled with the venom known only to the original "Angels of Death". To the point they would risk a mad jump into the heart of the system itself. Heedless of the risks of translation mishaps.

Debris field defense platforms began the slow process of turning inward. But it would avail them not.

The Dark Sovereign had arrived. And the Dark Angels would ensure if Terra could not have the spoils of Xana, no one could.

 

"...Noosphere chatter is saying Xana I itself is under attack."

Booted hooves clanked rhythmically on metal rungs. Taut, vertical wires swayed, appearing from the depths of the shaft below and disappearing into the blackness above.

Helmet lenses looked down, scanning for a landing. "...who?" Elster asked, curiously. "Have the Loyalists broken the blockage out-system?"

"No, I don't think so," Daisy said, pausing every few steps to stare into space. "...I don't think the Xanians know either, yet. Or not the ones talking on this channel."

"Great," Double Tap said, huffing and puffing from bearing the weight of a plasteel shield on her back. "Maybe...hoo...that'll give us more of a distraction."

"Here's hoping," Hippolyta said, at the top of the line of ladder climbers. She checked the safety cord running from her belt. "You good, Isis?"

The Kolibri timidly climbed below the Storch, every few seconds touching the cord clipped to her belt and running up in front of her chest. "Y-yeah, I'm good..." She gulped, forcing herself not to look down.

"If we take this shaft about...a hundred floors down," Elster said, eyeballing the shaft below, "we should be able to bypass..."

"ALERT. ALERT. ALERT."

Replikas flinched, as the formerly dark shaft was flooded by strobing red lights.

"Oh, what now?" Hippolyta groaned, head tilting back in frustration.

"Was that us!?" Isis yelled. "Did we trip something?"

Elster studied her digital interface. Checked the map provided to her by Vashtorr. "There shouldn't be active alarms here. What is...?"

"Uh..." Daisy said, staring into space. "...I think..."

Brrrr.

The grinding of distant gears echoed down from above. The taut wire suspended in the center of the shaft began to move.

Elster looked out at the wires, fully taut from some great weight.

Her eyes widened. "We need to get out of the shaft! Now!"

"What!?" Double Tap cried, looking around frantically. Behind lenses, her eyes alighted on a landing. "There!" she said, pointing. Then, began frantically climbing down.

"Scheisse!" Elster grunted, following.

"Ah!" Isis cried, hesitantly taking steps to match Daisy, who scurried quickly down. "I don't..."

"Move, Ise!" Hippolyta said, sliding down with one hand. As she passed the Kolibri, she grabbed her around the waist with her free hand and kept sliding.

"Eeegh!" Isis squealed, legs kicking helplessly in the empty air.

Down below, a shadow rose steadily. Seeking to overtake them.

"Hurry!" Elster cried, inching along the narrow landing, back against the metal wall. "Get that grate open!"

"G-got it!" Daisy said, approaching a grill in the wall. Mechandendrites reached down from her back and began furiously unscrewing bolts.

Each bolt undone fell unceremoniously to the depths below. Clacking noisily against the roof of the dark silhouette that grew to consume the red shaft. Each noise impacted sooner than the last.

"Oop!" Hippolyta breathed, hopping off the ladder without slowing and depositing the Kolibri. "Hang on!"

"Ngh!" Isis clung with both arms onto the Storch, before pressing herself against the wall. "Hah...hah..." she gasped, taking furtive glances down. "They're...coming..."

"Got it!" Daisy cried, mechadendrites ripping the grate from the wall entirely. She held it up, eyes darting around to look for a good resting pla-

"Just drop it and get in!" Elster barked, motioning to the vent.

"Uh, uh...okay!" Daisy said, tossing the grate to the air, where it tumbled.

Clank!

She flinched, then ducked into the vent. Teeth gritted.

"They heard that..." Isis said, gulping. It wasn't a question, or guess.

"Just get in!" Hippolyta said, unhooking the Kolibri and nudging her forward. "Move!"

The Kolibri frantically inched over, sweat soaking her hair beneath the helmet, before turning around.

Elster clapped a hand on the girl's back, steadying her as she knelt down and slipped inside.

"Okay," Elster grunted, looking frantically down at the oncoming surface, "I'll..."

"I won't be able to get my shield in through that thing!" Double Tap said, taking her shield off and resting it upright against the thin landing. "What do we...?"

"It's here!" Hippolyta shouted, gritting her teeth and looking down. The wide metal shape was, indeed, upon them. Pulled by taut metal wires.

"Ngh..." Elster grunted. She stood up straight. "Go flat!"

The three pressed themselves as hard as possible against the wall, as the weighty elevator rose at high speeds mere centimeters from their armored chests. Wind rushed between them.

Unclenching, the three breathed heavily, looking up to see the metal box retreating upward.

"...fuck," Hippolyta gasped, resting her head against the wall.

"...are you three okay?" Isis said, over the radio. They could hear her muffled movements on the sheet metal vent nearby.

"Yeah," Elster said, nodding. Eyes shut, blinking away sweat. "We're good."

Double Tap panted, hand resting on the top of her shield to keep it from toppling over into the abyss. "...whose...bright idea was this?"

"They weren't supposed to be using this elevator today," Elster groaned, checking her digital interface. She glanced down the shaft, frowning. "...I don't think this shaft is going to be safe to traverse anymore."

"It won't be," Daisy said over the radio. Her voice tinged by static. "Everyone left in the prison is being called up."

"Should we try following them?" Double Tap said, leaning head forward and looking sideways at Elster. "My shield..."

"Just leave it," Hippolyta said.

"...no," Elster said, narrowing her eyes. She looked to perpendicular wall, in which a pair of metal sliding doors were built. "Isis. You and Daisy rendezvous with us on this floor. I'll ping our heading on the map, or you can guide her to us. Understand?"

"R-right," Isis said. "But where are...?"

"We'll get through this door here," Elster said, motioning with her head for Double Tap to begin moving. "I don't think we'll have the benefit of stealth anymore. Everyone is on high alert."

"Yeah," Hippolyta said, beginning to sidle along the landing. "Why is that again? We really didn't trip anything, did we?"

"Hmm..." Daisy hummed through static. "...thing is..."

 

"Did that feral priest just turn into a woman and stab the tech priest?"

The entire company of green-clad marines watched as, at the end of the ridge, a lithe female figure in a black body suit pulled an arm blade from Archmagos Gilim Raijan. The Xanian tech priest, garbed in beige robes and black metal, doubled over in pain and shock.

"Looks like it," a marine said, tilting his head to the side.

"Karking assassins," said another marine, shaking his head.

"What do you think 'Koraddon' will do about...oh, there he goes..."

The captain masquerading as Raxhal Koraddon grabbed the Archmagos with his hand, and ripped the Xanian's head off. The body toppling to the gray dust, neck shooting blood and sparks.

One of the marines whistled. "...well...guess the jig is up, eh sergeant?"

"...it would appear so," Anton Weir said. He observed the murder impassively. Even were emotions not weakness, the Blackshield would still bear no sympathy for the Archmagos. After all, he was a traitor. It was the least he deserved.

Eyes drifted fractionally up, as the Blackshield leader, Endryd Haar, tossed the priest's head aside and exchanged words with the woman in the black bodysuit.

"What do you think they're talking about?" said one of Weir's subordinates.

"They're not killing each other," said another marine. "Maybe this was the plan all along?"

"..." Weir stared impassively.

The marines watched a heated discussion in silence. Some fellow green-clad false Sons of Horus became visibly incensed. Before, after some minutes, Haar and the assassin seemed to reach an agreement.

"All units," rumbled the vox. "proceed with the plan. And don't kill anyone below, unless they fire on you. They'll be on our side now."

"Affirmative," Weir replied on the vox, his voice joining dozens of others from officers across the line. He turned to his squad. "You have your orders. Follow."

His subordinates nodded, as Weir stepped to the edge of the ridge. Hefting his bolter, he jumped off, sliding masterfully down the steep incline. Gray dust billowed up from ceramite boots, as his squad joined him.

Marines all across the ridge made the plunge, many aiming to charge the now silenced Engines, the true prizes of the day.

Below, what remained of another "company" of baseline humans and cyborgs, traumatized and exhausted from hours of senseless slaughter, stood in shock as their explosive collars were deactivated and kill orders rescinded. Unlike the thousands of others surrounding them, in various states of dead, dying, or disassembly, their death sentences were revoked.

They weren't out of the woods yet. But their odds increased dramatically. They even had Space Marines backing them up.

Newly free and emboldened by delirious relief (and the combat drugs coursing through their veins), the prisoners trudged back across gore-spattered killing fields. Taking up whatever weapons were at hand, if they didn't have better already. Turned them against their former masters, the terrified tech priests at the rear of the line and their sorely outnumbered robots.

The demonstration was over. But the killing would continue apace.

 

"Verdammt, we're pinned!"

Zap Zap Zap.

Laslock bolts darted down the metal corridor, striking support struts and large storage containers. Chipping paint and charring metal black.

Double Tap ducked her head, pressing down into the corner of a strut, with her shield resting on the ground to provide additional cover. She raised her las carbine. "Can we circle around these guys?"

"No," Elster said, back pressed against a storage container. "This is a choke point. The vents are the only way around, and we're too big." She checked her ammo, waiting for a lull in the fire. When one came, she peeked out slightly, aiming.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Scarlet bolts struck heavy armor plating, on chests, legs, arms, and heads. One shot found its mark between plates, blowing off the arm of a trudging tech-thrall. If it discomfited either the thrall or their squadmates, it wasn't apparent. Their obscured faces and stringent commands prevented them from retreating or even seeking shelter.

Another barrage of laslock fire sent Elster ducking back to cover. "Scheisse!"

Zap. Zap. Zap.

A replika servo skull hovered over the storage container. Its bottom-mounted las weapon providing inaccurate covering fire. In return, a laslock shot pinged the skull's temple. It lowered back down, hovering over the shoulder of the Storch.

"Fuck this," Hippolyta grunted, rising to just under the lip of the container. She opened her grenade launcher, loading a frag in place of a krak and cycling it to the barrel. "Hang on, I'm going to clear them."

"Won't that attract more guys?" Double Tap said, keeping an eye on their rear.

"They're all connected by the Noosphere," Elster said. "They already know we're here."

Hang on, thought Isis. I can give you an opening. Just one second.

"...sure," Hippolyta said, ducking back down.

"Ngh!"

At the end of the hall, the Xanian cyborgs ceased firing. Doubling over in pain, free hands clutching their heads. Even as a priest on the other end of their data tether demanded continued firing, their minds - technically granted free will to act - were compromised.

Peeking out, Elster furrowed her brow. "Go, go!" she barked.

Double Tap rushed from cover, stalking forward with las carbine resting in a notch on her shield.

Running across the gap, Hippolyta fell in behind her, grenade launcher lowered and laspistol raised. Her gun servo skull floated alongside her, waiting for a mental command.

Taking up the rear, Elster peeked out, providing covering fire with her lasgun.

Zap. Zap Zap. Zap Zap. Zap. Zap Zap Zap.

Adsecularis troops, minds wracked by pain and hallucinations, cried out. Organic tissues chewed up by superheating las bolts. A half dozen figures fell twitching to the ground, bionics sparking and flesh sizzling.

"Good job," said Hippolyta over the radio. She checked the corners at the far t-junction.

"Want me to stay in here?" Isis said, tapping a grate high on a nearby wall.

"If you can get to where we're going, maybe," Elster said, jogging forward to join the team. She turned to check their rear, backpedaling carefully to walk behind Double Tap.

"You might need to hit the Panopticon," Daisy said, trundling further through vents. "The other sections have too many choke points like this one."

"I'd rather blow through choke points with Isis," Hippolyta said, stepping over twitching bodies, "than be out in the open like that."

Elster knelt, drawing her talon-blade. Reaching down, she slashed the throat of a gurgling tech-thrall. "We'll have to see."

Boom.

The corridor rattled, as distant sounds filtered down from the ceiling.

Double Tap looked around, leading the group forward. "I thought we left those Engines behind?"

"...it's not the Engines this time, I don't think," Daisy said. "Or it might be, but it's different now."

"How?" Hippolyta said, covering Elster as she rose to her hooves and followed.

"Remember those marines outside?" the Ara said, voice crackling. "They're attacking."

"Attacking who?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"The whole planetoid."

Elster shut her eyes, inhaling.

"Okay," she said, opening her eyes, "we're on the clock now. Let's move."

Chapter 67: Adsecularis

Notes:

This video from Arbitor Ian about Heresy-era Mechanicum units will probably prove useful.

"ISE! WATCH OUT!"

Far above, booms of distant explosions. The ceiling rattled, and rust cascaded to the floor.

Metal clanged rapidly against metal, as steel feet hopped across floor grating. Servos whirred and pistons pumped. Boosters fired, and lightning crackled across two huge sets of claws.

"Aaaaah!" the diminutive replika screamed, freezing in place.

Red emergency lights reflected wickedly on the Ursarax's armaglass visor. The Kolibri felt the cyborg's desperate, feral rage, as it raked lightning claws across her body.

Only to pass harmlessly through.

The cyborg stopped dead, confused. It swiped its claws again, aiming to decapitate the invader with blades that deconstructed matter on a molecular level. Again, to its utter bafflement, the figure in the Auxilia voidsuit seemed both unharmed, and unfazed.

"Hah, hah, hah!" Isis panted, crawling away behind her illusory doppelganger. Looking over her shoulder frantically, she got her booted hooves beneath her and took off running.

Silently, the faceless tech-thrall's head jerked at the sound of retreating hoofsteps. Steam hissed from its neck, as it barreled angrily through the illusion and gave chase.

Zap, Zap, Zap.

"Hurry!" Elster yelled, lasgun barking down the corridor, desperately trying to aim over the Kolibri's head.

The bolts sailed over, some impacting the cyborg's metal body head on. It barely singed the plates.

"Ngh!" Isis grunted, ducking as she ran. She didn't need to look. She could FEEL where the tortured soul followed. Felt its pain. Felt its burning need to eviscerate her.

She jumped over the smoking body of one of its compatriot Ursarax, then frantically conjured three more illusory doubles. Juking to the side, in an attempt to confuse the cyborg.

Clang!

With a fiery burst from its oversized jump pack, the tech-thrall leaped over the corpse of its brother, and landed hard. Bringing a claw down one of the Kolibri clones. Lightning claws gouged into metal grating.

"Ah!" Isis cried, casting a hand out. Both in the physical, and in the mental.

The Ursarax recoiled, clawed arms rising to hover over its metal head. Deep-seated threads of agony were plucked like an instrument, vibrating through its mind. Heightening its pain. It staggered back a step, swiping blindly at the air.

"Come on!" Hippolyta barked, frantically reloading her grenade launcher at the metal doorway. "Get in!"

Elster aimed her lasgun again, retreating to the other side enough to give the Kolibri room.

Zap, Zap, Zap.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Isis breathed, scrambling practically on all fours toward the bulkhead door.

Whatever effect the psychic assault had on the human being inside the shell of metal, it didn't last long. Under a hail of desperate lasfire, the monstrous tech-thrall threw its arms up. In the physical world, it made no sound, save the hiss of steam erupting from pistons and heat vents.

In the mental world, it howled. It charged, heedless of concentrated energy beams sliding off its armor like rain.

"Eat this!" Hippolyta barked, raising her launcher.

Shunk.

Sailing over the Kolibri's head, the krak grenade tumbled, beeping, toward the cyborg.

Clank.

Metal struck metal, as the explosive magnetized to the tech-thrall's chest plate. The Ursarax didn't even slow its stride. Oversized jump pack firing up for a leap.

"Close the door!" Isis cried, tumbling through the doorway.

As the others retreated, Double Tap and Elster grabbed the heavy metal door and swung it shut. Upon closing, a valve handle spun automatically. Steam shot off pistons.

Clang!

A heavy, beeping mass impacted hard against the bulkhead.

"Come on, get clear!" Elster cried, grabbing Isis by the arm and dragging her to her hooves.

Screech!

The replikas flinched, scrambling faster and looking back.

Two claws, crackling with lightning, sheared through solid metal like a hot knife through butter. They sliced diagonally across the door, electricity and sparks spraying off the blades.

"Son of a bitch!" Hippolyta groaned, gritting her teeth. She threw a hand in front of Isis. "Don't these things ever stop!?"

Screech!

Another pair of claws cut through the bulkhead door, perpendicular to the first.

"We need to keep moving," Elster said, hefting her lasgun.

The claws retracted, then both pairs plunged into the gap where the slices met.

The beeping behind the door grew more rapid.

"Wait...it should..." Hippolyta said, backing up. "D.T.! Cover us!"

Double Tap threw herself between the group and the demolishing door. "Behind me!" she cried, raising her plasteel shield.

Crunch. Screee.

Red emergency lights reflected off the armaglass visor as the Ursarax widened the hole through brute strength.

"Hit the deck!" Hippolyta said.

The replikas ducked, squatting in a line behind the shield.

The beeping reached a fever pitch.

Steam shrieked from the cyborgs joints as it forced itself across the ragged threshold. As if it were the only means besides murder the tech-thrall had to vent its rage. It reached out a claw coruscating with lightning.

BOOM!

"..."

One by one, the replikas raised their heads, peeking out from behind cover.

Clank. Clank-Clank.

Billowing smoke and shooting sparks, the cyborg staggered forward. Shuddering, sputtering, spilling coolant.

From inside its smoking chest hole, singed organs writhed and pumped furiously. Exposed from a blast that could puncture Astartes ceramite.

"...oh empress..." Isis breathed, pressing a hand to her helmet, over her mouth. "This poor man..."

"Team," Elster said, glaring at the tech-thrall, "light him up."

The group spread out, readying las weapons. They formed a firing line.

Clank...Clank.

The cyborg extended a twitching claw.

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap. Zap Zap. Zap.

Under the withering hail of las bolts, the tech-thrall shuddered and recoiled. Enough struck its ravaged chest cavity to roast its organs. Augmented tissues sparked and ruptured. Its internal power core pierced, it started shooting electricity to the metal walls and floor around it.

The replikas retreated several meters, as the mechanical body shuddered and smoked. It looked to the ceiling, writhing in wordless agony.

Steam erupted from its face plate, until the cracking armaglass exploded in a shower of shards. Exposing a blackened and metal-clad skull, locked in a silent scream.

Finally, blessedly, the machine seized up, and pitched forward.

Crash!

"...shit..." Double Tap said, staring at the mangled creature. "Did we...go overboard?"

"It was trying to kill us," Hippolyta said, lowering her laspistol. "So no."

"Agreed," Elster sighed.

"That poor man," Isis said, lowering her las carbine and pressing a hand to her chest.

"Oh, you think we should have not killed him?" Hippolyta asked, spreading arms wide.

"...no," Isis said, gulping. "He needed to die. He was in so much pain. He just...didn't deserve any of this..."

Hippolyta sighed, and placed a hand on the Kolibri's shoulder. "..."

Elster looked away, staring into space. "Daisy, how's everything on your end?"

"I'm making my way over to the next level down," the Ara said, her static-laded voice backed by the thumps and bumps of sheet metal. "You girls okay?"

"Yes," Elster said, nodding. "We encountered two big cyborgs. Melee assault types. Very fast."

"Oh, the Ursalax," Daisy said, as if the name meant anything to them. "..."

Elster frowned. "...what?"

"...how many did you say you encountered?"

Double Tap turned her head. "...we killed two. Why?"

Clank. Clank. Clank.

"Because there were three deployed on this floor."

Isis gasped, looking at the metal wall beside them. "He's coming," she breathed.

"No one move!" Elster cried, throwing a hand out.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

Muffled, heavy footsteps drew closer, from behind the wall.

"..."

One by one, weapons were readied.

Clank. Clank.

"..."

Silence.

Hard swallows. Sweatdrops on skin. Hearts raced. Fingers poised on triggers.

"...we need to move..." Elster whispered.

"Good idea," whispered Hippolyta.

"Slowly," Elster said.

Isis took one hoofstep back. Quiet as a mouse.

Bang!

The replikas flinced, hearts skipping a beat, as the metal wall bulged out visibly with a hard impact.

Bang!

Another impact. Another indent, larger this time.

"Run," Elster said, and turned on the spot.

Bang! Bang!

Booted hooves thundered across metal grating. The team hit the bricks, panting and gritting their teeth.

CRASH!

With a mighty blow, another Ursarax erupted from the wall. Instead of claws, it sported blunt, two-fingered metal fists. They coruscated with lightning, allowing it to punch through solid metal walls with ease.

"Run faster!" Elster barked, as her team broke into a sprint. They ducked around a corner.

The tech-thrall, mind filled with pain, jerked metal head toward the retreating intruders. Longing for release, it fired its jump pack and gave chase.

 

"You won't get away."

Screens flashed, text scrolling rapidly. Dots sped around a flickering map. Light bathed the Xanian tech priest green, as he furiously tapped the keyboard in front of him.

The Adsecularis controller split attention between multiple viewpoints. Some on screens, some feed to his bionic eyes. Security cameras and sensorium suites pinpointed every body in the subsection.

With the death of Archmagos Gilim Raijan, the entire defense of Xana-Tisiphone was in disarray. No other senior magi were on hand to coordinate defenses. Most had been present at the "demonstration" when all hell broke loose, or else retreated to research stations across Xana-Tisiphone, to protect their precious projects. None remained to guard the penitentiary.

Especially troubling against the duplicitous Sons of Horus.

Yes, Xana I's shipyards were being attacked virtually uncontested by a Loyalist ship somehow in their system. But that was no excuse for the absence of any central direction from superiors on Xana II. The beleaguered Adsecularis controller, already overwhelmed directing Thallax and Ursarax units against the Astartes, took time out of hunting down the intruders on his level to lodge a formal complaint with the Vodian Consistory. They were supposed to provide leadership in times of crisis.

At least he had Datasmith Baral on his side. If the controller failed, Baral would hold the line.

But the controller wouldn't fail. He couldn't. The prisoners below - especially him - could not be allowed to...

The tech priest flinched, as a skull floated in front of his face.

"Ah!" he cried, jerking back. "M-malfunctioning drone," he hissed, waving a metal hand at the servo skull. "Get out of the way! Who told you to..."

He stopped, staring with augmetic eyes.

The machine wasn't constructed from the human skull of a deceased Mechanicum servent. It sported a cheap, painted metal copy, of unknown make. It certainly had no hallmarks of superior Xanian design.

It just...stared at him, with augmetic eye lenses.

"...wha-?"

Zap, Zap, Zap.

"Argh!" the tech priest cried, as las bolts tore into his back. He spun around in pain, arms flailing. His black robe alight with flame.

Zap. Zap.

"...nagh...gck..."

The Adsecularis controller slumped, then toppled from his chair. Landing in a smoking heap on the metal floor of the auxiliary control room.

Booted hooves thudded to the floor, as the Ara dropped from a wall vent.

"Good work, little buddy," Daisy said, nodding to the servo skull. With a mental command, she set it to work linking with the control panel.

She knelt by the twitching Xanian, and pulled out her talon-knife.

"The things you make, I can't forgive. None of your pawns deserved what you did to them."

 

"Hostiles, dead ahead!"

Hooves wore holes in their boots, as the team dashed down the corridor. Panting, hearts racing.

Somewhere behind them, their pursuer slammed into a far wall, punching a hole through it with its power fists.

Walking into view, "normal" tech-thralls formed a firing line far in front of the replikas. Lazily readied their las-locks.

"Get behind me!" Double Tap cried, raising her shield and holding it steady as she could while running.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Scarlet energy bolts cascaded against the plasteel shield. As well as everywhere else.

"Shit!" Hippolyta grunted, ducking in time for a bolt to fly over her head and impact a nearby wall. "Ise! Fuck 'em up!"

"R-right!" Isis gasped, throwing out a hand.

The group of tech-thralls ceased firing. Free hands clutched their heads, as they recoiled in pain and confusion. Staggered around, groaning behind metal masks.

"Just ram through them!" Elster barked, raising lasgun for a quick shot. Double Tap joined her, dropping her shield and aiming las carbine one-handed. Hippolyta's gun skull aimed as well.

Zap Zap. Zap. Zap Zap.

"Gah!" cried a tech-thrall, dropping to the ground.

As the team drew near, Elster and Hippolyta drew talon-blades. Double Tap's servo skull roared to life with its whirring sawblade. The team cut defenders down as they passed, like scythes through grain. They did all they could to barrel through the line without slowing. The Star slamming a tech-thrall out of the way with her shield.

Far behind, rapid metal footsteps echoed down the hall. Jump jets flared to life.

"Move, move, move!" Hippolyta yelled, waving the team forward. Taking furtive glances back.

Crash!

The Ursarax jumped horizontally down the hall at high speed, power fist smashing a "normal" tech-thrall as it landed. Heedless of friendly fire. The unfortunate cyborg flipped through the air, spine snapped, skull shattered. Armor plates and teeth flew off in all directions.

Isis gulped, panting. She could feel only its delirious rage.

"What does this bastard want!?" Double Tap gasped, pointing las carbine back one-handed.

Zap. Zap.

Scarlet bolts of energy impacted uselessly on the ceramite chestplate of the advanced cyborg.

"He's...haff...in pain," Isis panted, not looking back. "All he knows...is pain. They...haff...won't let him feel...relief...unless he kills..."

Clank, Clank, Clank, Clank, Clank.

"Shit, he's gaining!" Hippolyta barked, glancing back to see the Ursarax hot on their heels.

They turned a corner. Isis skidded, throwing hands over her head. Elster and Hippolyta kicked off the wall and kept going. Double Tap, weighed down by her shield, skidded, throwing it behind her.

Crash.

The Ursarax slammed into the wall, driving a hole in it. Then, before Double Tap could back away, it threw a punch.

"Aaaaagh!" the Star yelled, as she was knocked off her hooves and sent flying. Shield buckling with the force.

"Scheisse!" Elster grunted, ducking. She saw the Star sail over her head, tumbling down the hall like a projectile. "N-no!"

"D.T.!" Isis cried, eyes going wide.

"Ack! Fck! Shck!" Double Tap grunted, as her shield fell from her grasp, and she rolled multiple times across the floor. Finally sliding to a stop...at a dead end.

"Fuck!" Hippolyta yelled, eyeing both her downed compatriot and the end of the corridor. She slowed, fumbling with her grenade launcher. "Come on, come on..."

Clank. Clank. Clank.

"D.T.! Are you okay!?" Isis cried, falling to her knees next to the prone Star.

"...ngh...fuck..." Double Tap groaned, struggling to sit up. She hugged her sides. Massaged her left arm. "...I think I'm...okay..." she grunted, wincing. "Hurts."

Zap. Zap Zap. Zap Zap Zap. Zap.

Clank. Clank.

Elster emptied her lasgun power pack as she backed up. Gritted her teeth, as the bolts did nothing to the solid armored cyborg. "Fuck...it's coming!"

The machine filled with murderous rage stalked toward them. Fists crackling with power, ready to pulp the intruders.

"I'll get it!" Hippolyta said, aiming her grenade launcher.

"That won't be necessary."

The ursarax made to charge, jump jets flaring up...only to suddenly stop. Almost pitched forward, before righting itself.

"..."

The replikas eyed the tech-thrall, weapons readied.

"...huff...huff...Daisy?" Elster said, blinking.

"Hey girls," Daisy said over the radio. "It was a pain, but I took over the Adsecularis control room for this sector."

"...did you...turn this guy off?" Hippolyta asked, keeping her launcher ready. Not taking eyes off the stationary cyborg.

It just stood there. Menacingly. Fists crackling from residual power.

"Uh...not as such..." Daisy said, uneasily. "I mean, kind of...?"

"He's no longer in pain," Isis said, helping Double Tap to her hooves. The Kolibri stared at the tech-thrall. "He's...feeling relief..."

Gears turned. Elster's eyes lit up. "Oh," she said, lowering her lasgun. "You pumped his brain with whatever anasthetic they use to control him."

"Yes," Daisy said. "I thought, since he only fights because he's in pain, that giving him painkillers would stop him. Or at least slow him down."

"...huh..." Hippolyta said, tilting her head to the side.

"Anyway," Daisy said, "according to the maps, you should be able to get a shortcut through that wall behind you. Step aside for a second."

The replikas parted quickly, as the Ursarax rumbled to activity again. By some unseen directive fed to his brain, the thing that was once a man trudged forward. Not with alacrity or aggression, but with the lethargy of one who looked forward to an additional reward.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

He stepped to the solid wall, and pulled a fist back. It flared to life with coruscating energy.

Bang!

A massive dent formed in the wall as he withdrew his arm.

He raised his other power fist, sparking with lightning.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

CRASH!

The Ursarax bashed open a hole through sheer metal. Then, his big metal mitts grabbed hold of the ragged edge, and pulled it apart. The sheet groaned under his mechanical ministrations.

Screeeeeee.

His work complete, the cyborg stepped aside, unseen face watched the replikas expectantly.

"Th-thank you, sir," Isis said, nodding nervously as she approached.

Double Tap looked down at her ruined shield, then turned away. It would only be dead weight now. She looked through the wall opening, then waved the rest through.

"Lucky bastard," Hippolyta muttered as she passed the cyborg.

Elster paused at the tech-thralls side. Looked him in where she assumed his eyes were, behind the tinted visor. "...Daisy."

"Yeah?" said the Ara, over the radio.

"Reward the man," Elster said, flatly. "Give him everything loaded in his system, all at once." She looked forward and walked to the hole. "He's earned it."

"...understood."

As Elster hopped to the next corridor over, she heard the Ursarax shudder and twitch. Looking back, she saw him pitch forward.

Crash.

She looked away, and kept walking. The overdosed victim of Mechanicum cruelty dying blissfully in her wake.

 

"...report, damn you! I must have answers! I...dammit!"

Cutting the silent Noosphere connection, the Cybernetica Datasmith stalked across the room. Passed storage vaults, that housed the many crimes against the Machine God even Xana could not countenance.

Fril Baral pointed to a squad of guards. "Permit no unauthorized entry," he ordered. "Sell your lives, if you must. This is greater than you, or even I."

"Understood, Datasmith," the head guard said, nodding. His feathered helmet crest bobbed with the motion. He looked over his shoulder, at the vault behind him. "...should we perhaps execute the prisoner, if it is so important?"

"Do not question my orders," Baral said, venomously. "Even now, his skills are too valuable. Especially if Xana is to join on the side of the Warmaster. Such is the will of the Vodian Consistory."

"But the Sons of Horus are attacking, revered master," the guard said, hefting his radium carbine. Voice filtered through a respirator. "Does this not mean the alliance is forfeit?"

"Enough questions!" the Datasmith said in a shrill voice, waving a hand. "Do your duty, as I will do mine."

"...yes, sir."

Baral took one last look at the prison vault, then turned away. "Remember," he said, without looking back, "he cannot be allowed loose..."

With a hand wave and a thought, he loaded programmatic commands. The hunched machines followed on writhing metal tentacles. As did the heavy stomps, whose sources cast large shadows over the Datasmith as he walked. Baral and his Maniple moved slowly to the huge freight elevators.

"...or his blasphemous automata will lead not just Xana, but the whole galaxy, to burn."

Chapter 68: Cybernetica

"Open up."

Overhead lights flickered, activating long enough to flash images of cadavers strewn about the floor. Lab equipment sparked and oozed unidentifiable fluids. A tech-thrall twitched, head buried in a sizzling cogitator monitor. Black smoke rose from the deep cuts on its back.

Slender fingers tapped buttons. A small, red light switched to green.

Shunk.

"Good little machine."

Reaching inside, the woman in the black, skin-tight bodysuit pulled a glass vial from the sealed container. Held it to the light of the desk lamp in front of her, inspecting its color.

"You'll do." She slid the vial into a small, padded carrying case, then stowed it in a bag hung by her side. It joined the rest of the plunder. Microchips. Personal tablets. Data-stack archives. Prototypes.

She wandered over to an undamaged cogitator bank and pulled a tab from her belt. She slid it into a socket on the machine, then furiously tapped the keyboard.

The Callidus assassin's "real" work was already complete. All this was just a bonus, albeit a profitable one.

Originally, she was assigned to eliminate the lodge priest Unvacar Noon, and through assuming the Davinite's identity, kill Sons of Horus captain Raxhal Koraddon. She'd met the bellicose Koraddon before, and thus recognized the impostor immediately upon rendezvousing with the Cicathrice Tyrannis. Further snooping revealed the entire ship of Horus's Legion were, in fact, Blackshields.

Not a rash sort herself, the assassin elected to maintain the charade. Going along with the operation, to see where it would lead. Endryd Haar, colossal exile of the World Eaters, proved both competent and loyal when he "assisted" her murder of the Xanian Archmagos.

As two frequent servants of the Sigilite, they naturally came to an understanding...after some initial tension. Space Marines, even those not of the Sons of Horus, were belligerent by design. Much less ones still reeling from the sting of betrayal.

She hadn't worried. More than anything else, training in the Assassinorum cultivated a healthy confidence in the agent's abilities. A factor as essential to prosecuting their missions as actual fighting or stealth prowess. Doubt was a weakness that spoiled the focus, dulled reaction times, and fostered a reluctance to risk-taking. An assassin needed to dive into hails of gunfire, if it meant slaying the target.

There was no doubt, if it came to blows, she would escape unscathed. Perhaps if she felt generous, so would the Blackshields.

The progress bar on the screen filled. A "Download Complete" message appeared onscreen. She removed the flash drive and stowed it in her belt.

Actual samples were one thing. Testing data was another. Having both would make reproducing and iterating on results all the easier for her masters.

Xana-Tisiphone was not merely a prison-forge. It was a research planetoid. Where all the best and brightest - or the worst and darkest - minds could pursue their projects far from the home Forges of Xana II. It just so happened that large numbers of prisoners in close proximity was conducive to the kind of research Xanian magi pursued.

Boom.

Case in point. The assassin looked out the window, watching another smoke-stack topple to the ground. The Blackshields were testing out their new toys. Ordinatus sonic weapons, even ones of the Minoris grade, functioned just as ably against infrastructure as they did people.

The plan, as it turned out, was to deliver them to Terra, for deployment on the defensive lines against the Traitors. A plan to which she readily agreed. The assassin supposed, however, that the "boys" could be permitted their fun.

If nothing else, all the noise provided plenty of distractions from what she was doing. And slowed THEM down. She and they were after the same "plunder", after all. If they wanted to dawdle, in service of reaping their revenge, so much more for her.

She turned, stalking to the door. The assassin reached down, taking a genetic sample from one of the priests. Ingested it, then removed a stim from her belt. Injected into her neck. She pulled a spare robe from the wall, and wrapped herself in it.

The Polymorphine set to work immediately. By the time she reached the stairwell down the hall, she would look like the Xanian researcher. Augmetics and all.

Now that her hard targets were eliminated. It was time to loot Xana-Tisiphone for all it was worth.

 

"Hit the deck!"

BOOM!

"Hah hah hah hah hah! Yes! Die, die, die! Hah hah hah!"

Conveyor belts exploded, chains snapping and steel rollers flying off in every direction. A couple prisoner servitors, shackled to the line, were perforated by shrapnel. Bleeding, twitching, their cogitators slaved them to labor rapidly growing redundant in the destruction and carnage.

Two titanic sets of stomping metal feet boomed as they walked. Giant metal fists smashed aside more belts as they crossed the open plan manufactorum.

"I am Fril Baral," cackled the tech adept through a rebreather, perched on the catwalk spanned over the center of the workshop, "Datasmith of the Legio Cybernetica! You have faced the inferior specimens of Xanian artifice! Now you face ME! Hah hah hah hah hah!"

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

Bolter rounds impacted against large metal containers, sundering their sides and spilling torrents of electronic components.

"Scheisse!" Elster grunted, back pressed to the container. She felt the impacts through its structure. "Daisy! Can we get those blast doors open?"

The radio crackled to life. "No," Daisy said. "They've got it encrypted, and those data-djinn look nasty."

"Fuck!" Hippolyta groaned, pressed against a block of rapidly disintegrating machinery. "Looks like we're trapped, until we can clear the room." She looked down to her side. "Ise. Can you mess with those things?"

"They're not cyborgs!" Isis cried, flinching with each impact of a plasma cannon and phosphor blaster against their impromptu cover. "Not really! There's barely any mind in there!"

BOOM!

A sizeable chunk flew off from the machine block. An assembly arm fell over smoking and sparking, dislodged by the damage.

"Automata have a rudimentary brain stem inside," Daisy chimed in, over the sound of rapid shuffling through a metal vent. "The Datasmith gives them commands, that they follow to the letter."

"Fffffuuuu-" Hippolyta growled, loading a frag grenade in her launcher. "Okay, that's fine. Let's just kill that mutterficher!"

"Guess we have to," Double Tap said, checking her ammo. She looked sidelong at Elster, sitting next to her. "We good with that?"

"No," Elster said, narrowing her eyes. She readied her lasgun. "...but fuck if we have any choice. Hip, I need you to take out the round-headed robot, with all the guns. D.T. and I will distract the one with the whips, try to get in close for the kill. Ise, fuck with their controller however you can. Everybody ready?"

"Ready!" Double Tap said. Her servo skull revved its buzzsaw in anticipation.

"Got it!" Hippolyta said, nodding.

"O-okay!?" Isis said, swallowing hard.

Stomp, stomp, stomp. Crash!

"Break now!" Elster yelled, jumping to her hooves and running.

She and Double Tap rushed from cover, as the Arlatax crashed through lines of conveyor belts and laid into their cover with triple metal scourges on the end of each arm. The tendrils coruscated with lightning, arcing to surrounding machinery or the grated floor.

"There! There!" the Datasmith screeched, pointing a gauntleted left hand toward Elster and D.T. "Blast them! Destroy them!"

Zap Zap Zap.

"Ah!" Baral cried, as las bolts flew near his head. He ducked down.

Shunk.

A frag grenade sailed through the air, before bouncing off the edge of the catwalk and tumbling to the floor below.

"Come on, you piece of shit!" Hippolyta yelled, running across the floor. Her servo skull laying down a covering fire of directed energy.

Behind her, Isis tentatively peeked out, then ran forward, taking shelter under intact conveyors. Eyes looked up through glasteel lenses, at the tech priest high above.

Boom!

The frag grenade exploded. A servitor positioned nearby fell over, body compromised to a permanent end by shrapnel.

Stomp. Stomp.

Turning slowly on the spot, the automaton before Hippolyta redirected the Phosphor Blaster mounted over its right shoulder.

Fsshooosh!

"Ack!" The Storch ducked under a ball of flame, that scorched a metal wall to her side. She hugged the wall, rushing to a heavy machine for cover.

Bam Bam Bam Bam Click!

Bolter rounds shredded the grated floor behind her.

The Kastelan robot's right arm-mounted bolter clicked, ammunition spent. It continued to dry fire with it, while its left bolter barked.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Crash!

"Ah!" Hippolyta cried, her helmet shattering as a bolt round clipped the side. She gritted her teeth, shards of helmet embedding in the side of her head. Right ear ringing more than it already did from the Engines on the surface. She rolled behind cover, disoriented. "Ffffuuuu-"

"Hip!" Isis cried, looking over.

"D-don...don't worry about me!" Hippolyta grunted, before pulling off her helmet and casting it aside. She panted, one eye wincing in pain. Oxidizing fluid flowed down the right side of her head. "G-get him!"

"R-right!" Isis gritted her teeth, then rushed to cover under another conveyor belt.

 

Boom!

"Ngh!" Double Tap grunted, rolling away as a blinding blast of plasma scorched the ground in her wake. Burning a hole through a ruined hunk of conveyor belt and the floor underneath in one hit. "Don't like that! Don't like that!" She jogged, aiming her las carbine.

Zap Zap Zap.

Las bolts stopped short of the Arlatax, splashing against an energy field like rain against a pool of water. The automaton turned fractionally, faceless head regarding her impassively. A plasma cannon poked up from its back and over its right shoulder, redirecting. The coils, glowing with blue energy, began to charge again.

"Over here!"

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

The automata didn't even flinch, nor look away, as las bolts struck its side. It kept charging, ignoring Elster completely.

"No! Dammit!" Elster barked. Looked to the Star. "Look out!"

"Shit!" Double Tap groaned, diving forward.

Boom!

Plasma cascaded over the Star's head, piercing a lump of machinery behind her as if it weren't there. Reducing internals to hot slag, the edges of the hole red hot and sagging.

"Rragh!" Elster growled, rushing up behind the robot and unpinning a grenade.

"No!" cried the Datasmith, augmetic eyes turning to the altercation on the far corner. "Kill that one!"

In whir of internal cogitators, the Arlatax stomped back and swept lightning scourges behind it.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, struck in the side by the whips. Electricity crackled through her body, as she was sent sprawling across the manufactorum floor. The krak grenade slipped from her hand and tumbled away, beeping.

"Mom!" Double Tap yelled, rushing forward. She removed her las carbine strap from her shoulder.

"Argh!" Elster grunted, twitching and gritting her teeth. She pointed. "...the...grena...de..."

Not missing a beat, Double Tap bolted to where the explosive lay prone and beeping.

She ducked under a back-handed sweep of the scourges, the robot's plasma cannon struggling to lock on.

"Hyup!" Double Tap breathed, snatching up the krak grenade and chucking it with the same motion. "Catch!" she said, falling to the ground at Elster's side.

The krak grenade, noise reaching a fever pitch, arced through the air and affixed to the robot's plasma cannon. Coils glowing white hot with energy.

BOOM!

Bright blue light bathed the factory floor, as plasma scorched and melted the side of the Arlatax far more than the explosive that unleashed it.

When the replikas looked up from covering their faces, they watched as the automata stumbled sideways, tendrils flailing. Its systems - and minimal human neuro-tissue - thrown into disarray.

 

"My Arlatax!" Baral screeched, throwing his hands in the air. "Come on," he barked, sending Noospheric commands to the machine staggering below, "you're still operational! Kill th-"

STIRB

"ARRRGH!"

He clutched his head, mind flooded with foreign sensory stimuli and emotions not his own. "Wh-wha? Ngh!"

Below, Isis held out her hand, glaring at the Datasmith. "Fuck you! Stop hurting my family!"

"Nhn...n-no..." Baral seethed through gritted teeth, looking down. Summoning his will, he sent another signal. "Fffffuck...you!"

Clank. Clank. Clank.

From the shadows and the metal crawlspaces below the manufactorum floor, movement. Grate plates popped open, and something slithered out.

"Come on..." Isis growled, gritting her teeth. "Give up...AH!"

She felt a metal tendril grip her ankle, then pull.

"Agh!" Isis screamed, falling forward on the ground. She looked up, eyes wide, before tendrils pulled her back across the floor. "AAAGH!"

"Ise!" Hippolyta barked, peeking warily around the corner of her dwindling metal cover. The bolter rounds ran out a minute before, leaving only the phosphor blaster to slowly melt the machine into slag.

Her eyes went wide. "N-no!"

"Hip! Elster!" Isis cried, arms flailing as a writhing mass of metal tentacles pulled her out into the open. She rolled over, watching in horror as a pair of red, glowing eyes glared down at her from a human skull. "Eeeek!"

 

"...I-Isis!" Elster grunted, sitting up in spite of muscle spasms. She looked over in horror. "No!"

A second mass of metal tentacles erupted from the floor. Then another, and then another. They slithered beneath conveyor belts and over dead factory servitors. Coalescing around the struggling Kolibri.

"Dammit!" Double Tap said, crouching by her side.

Stomp. Stomp.

"Shit!" the Star said, looking the other way. Up at the shadow cast over them both.

The Arlatax, despite heavy damage and the destruction of its heavy ordinance, plodded slowly toward them. Scourges sparking.

"G-get them!" Baral shouted down. "Kill them all! Leave nothing left!"

"Get Ise!" Double Tap said, rising to her hooves. She started running the other direction. "I'll take this guy!"

"R-right!" Elster said, rising painfully and stumbling toward the growing collection of tentacled horrors.

 

"Remember, D.T., Arlatax robots will explode when they die."

Double Tap slid under a conveyor belt, wincing as metal whips crashed down on it. Electric sparks nipped at her hooves. "R-right!" she grunted over the radio, stumbling forward and raising her las carbine.

Zap Zap Zap.

The quarter-destroyed machine's energy shield flickered under the assault. A bolt struck its armaglass face plate, cracking it. It turned slowly, crushing steel rollers beneath its metal feet. Plodded forward.

Zap Zap Zap.

"Get it...away..." Double Tap muttered to herself, retreating and firing at the same time. "Get it away...from the others...can't have it blowing up...over...NGH!"

She stepped blindly on a roller, slipping as it slid beneath her.

Gravity slammed her onto another conveyor belt, impacting her back hard. "Argh!" the Star grunted, rolling onto the surface. She looked over her shoulder, and scrambled over the line with alarm. "Fuck!"

The scourges swept, electricity arcing into the metal line. It mostly dissipated to the floor, grounded by metal posts. But a few sparks nicked her hooves.

"Dragh!" Double Tap grunted, rolling on the floor, wincing at the pain in her legs. "Sch-scheisse!" She dragged herself to her tingling hooves, and stumbled away again. "C-come on! This w-way!" Raised her las carbine.

Zap Zap Zap.

The Arlatax twitched bodily, as a bolt struck an exposed, frayed wire through the stuttering shield.

Crash!

It dismantled the impeding conveyor by walking straight through it. In a moment, it shifted to what passed for a run. Scourges sparking with electricity.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"That's it...come here!" Double Tap yelled, running toward the robot. Her free hand snapped to her belt.

Metal tendrils swept wide. The Star rolled under them, wincing as sparks arced to her back. "Ngh...!"

Putting her hooves under her, despite the pain, Double Tap unpinned a krak grenade.

Stomp Stomp Stomp.

Timing it just right, the Star dove between the automaton's legs, spinning as she went.

"Take THIS!" she grunted, throwing the beeping grenade up.

Clank.

"Oof!" she breathed, rolling on the floor. She climbed to her hooves. The Star kept limping forward, clenching her teeth, as she looked over her shoulder.

The Arlatax swept scourges behind it, blindly, before slowly turning around. Damaged scanners locked onto its quarry. Lightning sparked to the floor with each sway of its many whips.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The krak grenade stuck magnetically between its legs beeped to a fever pitch.

"...huff..." Double Tap said, stumbling to a hunk of broken machinery and taking shelter behind it. She grinned. "G-go to hell, you bucket of..."

BOOM!

The automaton's metal shell cracked open from below. Vital mechanisms were torn to pieces from the bottom up. Engines ruptured, coolant sprayed, and fuel ignited. Legs were blown out from under the machine, so it tumbled onto its back. Lightning flails whipped wildly, programmed behaviors struggling to adapt to a complete upending of its place in the world.

Then, igniting fuel tracked back to its reservoir.

KHA-B O O M ! ! !

The Star flinched, curling into a ball and throwing hands over her head. Heat and smoke cascaded around her cover. She could feel it nipping at her sides, even through her voidsuit.

She looked up, only to flinch again as the smoking head of the Arlatax landed with a thud in front of her.

"...shit..." Double Tap breathed, blinking.

"HELP ME!"

The Star flinched, staggering to her hooves.

"ISIS!"

 

"You scared?"

Lights flashed against the shadowed backdrop of Xana I's night side. Lance blasts and macrocannon fire, that split the heavens. After an hour of fighting, the last of the defense batteries mounted on the debris ring were smoldering wrecks. As were dozens of ancient bulk haulers, craft intended for sedate, peaceful operational lifespans of moving freight across the stars.

The Eule watched the Dark Sovereign begin pursuit of a crystaline craft of extreme age and possibly alien origin. Swatting aside the few craft with any teeth at all that flung themselves at it.

She swallowed. "...a little..."

"Of getting shot down?" said Mik'hul, voice filtering in over the radio.

"...nnn," Sally shrugged. She tucked her legs against her chest, resting chin on her knees.

"You don't need to worry about that, little lady," Mik'hul said, cooly. "Even if you don't believe I care anything for you, I have a vested interest in protecting this ship. Getting a new daemon engine body is costly, and I don't want to owe Vashtorr any more souls than I already do. At least, not unless it's worth it..."

The Eule played with the thin, black braid hanging from her right temple. "...why did you do it?"

"Hmm?" Mik'hul said. Voice bearing a reflexive evasiveness, tinged with cautious confusion. Prepared to deny something he presumed he did do, but unsure of what exactly. "Do what?"

"Make a deal with Vashtorr," Sally said, red lance shots reflecting off her artificial eyes.

"Oh, that!" Mik'hul said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Why do you want to know?"

"I mean, we know why mom...why Elster made her deal," Sally said, fingers pinching and rolling the braid between them. "It was to save the White Mother. That's an entirely...human reason. Why does a daemon make a deal with another daemon? What motivates you?"

"..."

The creature on the other end of the intercom chuckled. "You know, this is why I like you humans. So...inquisitive."

"If you don't want to say..." Sally sighed, tilting her head to the side.

"I didn't say that," Mik'hul said, quickly. "Really, it's kind of in my blood, so to speak. Our kind - those born of the gods - are inherently tied to primal passions and primordial truths. The children of Khorne are angry, violent, and vicious. They can't NOT seek combat, blood, and skulls. It's in their nature. Blood for the Big G, Skulls for the Porcelain Throne."

"Right..." Sally said, furrowing her brow. She didn't know who 'Khorne' was, exactly, but the description seemed to tell her everything she needed to know. I bet this Khorne guy loves this war...and the Imperium, for that matter...

"Well, Tzeentch is my big boss, and Tzeentch is many things. God of knowledge, metamorphosis, ambition, sorcery, and hope."

"Hope?" Sally said, cocking an eyebrow. "...that seems weird, for a hellspawn."

"Oh, I'm a real ray of sunshine, you can believe that," Mik'hul chuckled. He went serious for a moment. "Not every primal part of the mortal mind is bad, you know."

"Vanessa said you tried to trick her," Sally said, narrowing her eyes. "Lied to her about mom not being able to come back."

"Pft, what? She told you that? Why, I never..." Mik'hul huffed, feigning offense. "...plus, it wasn't really a lie, per se. And I wasn't lying about what I offered. Did she tell you about that?"

"...she did not," Sally said, frowning.

"The power of mortality," the daemon said, softly. "The power to bring death to the living, and life to the dead. To change that most fundamental state, in contravention of the so-called 'natural order'. So you...or, someone willing to make the deal, anyway, didn't have to part with loved ones..."

Sally clenched a fist. "Elster doesn't..."

"SHE doesn't, no," Mik'hul said. "The boss has Vashtorr pinch-hitting for her, that's true...but the others don't." He lowered his voice. "The rest of the team, down there, are quite vulnerable...as is that girlfriend of yours..."

Sally gritted her teeth. "Leave Myrtle out of this."

"Fine, fine," Mik'hul said, quickly. "We don't have to talk about that."

"..." The Eule settled down, huffing. "...you never did answer my question. Why did you take Vashtorr's deal?"

"Because I got got, here in the material world," Mik'hul said, matter-of-factly. "A terrible inconvenience, dying. Avoid it if you can, kid. And after I worked so hard to get there in the first place. They don't just let you come right back. Or, don't let US come back, us daemons. We gotta sit in the Warp, broken up, waiting to reform. It's so boring. You can't do anything. So much to do, so little time to do it, as the boss says."

"...right..." Sally said, nodding. Before her eyes, a bulk hauler burned in the void. She watched it crumble to pieces, drifting slowly toward the gas giant's gravity well. Long ago having lost all inertial control.

"Then, while I'm floating there, barely a thing, Vashtorr comes knocking," Mik'hul said. "The Soul Forges give much the same offer to anyone, mortal or immortal. They'll rebuild you, stronger and tougher and shinier than before. For some, it's a matter of getting more power, in the hope of serving their god better. For others, like me, it's just a matter of getting you back to the mortal world quick-like, so you can...well, serve your god better. The debt can be squared away later. Or...not, as many of my erstwhile coworkers discover. The deaths, and the debt, stack up. And few daemons who take the deal develop any kind of survival instinct to temper their need. But, sometimes, the prices you pay are worth it."

"..."

"Granted, I probably should have read the fine print," Mik'hul laughed. "Might not have wound up in this big metal straight-jacket, with a woman who wants to skate by doing the bare minimum to satisfy her obligations. No matter how much harder she's making it for herself. How much faster might she fulfill her goals, if she just...asked for help..."

"...how much deeper in the hole would she dig," Sally asked, "if she kept compounding her debts?"

"A wily one, aren't we? Smart. I like it," the daemon chuckled softly. "But if I may turn your words against you, you also never answered my question. What are you afraid of, right now?"

"..."

Sally hugged her knees close, curling into a ball. Eyes stared at the carnage outside.

That someone won't make it back home. Again. And this time, it will be permanent.

Chapter 69: Who Wants To Live Forever?

Notes:

No sex jokes, please. This is not the chapter for that.

[CONTENT WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH]

"Aaaaagh! Help me!"

Smashed conveyor belts sparked and sagged under the weight of their own broken frames. Disconnected belt rollers slid across grated floor. Servitors bled out nearby, limbs feebly swiping at the air in front of them, pantomiming programmed labor.

A small woman with a mechanical body writhed in panic. Metal tendrils slithered against the metal floor.

Four Servo-automata crowded around the Kolibri, metal limbs black and silver. Emergency lights above cast their bone-colored back carapaces a bloody red. Some had pneumatic claws and drill attachments. Others, coiling mechadendrites that ended in delicate manipulators. The latter two robots coiled around the wrists and ankles of the replika, aiming to hold...or perhaps to tear the diminutive intruder limb from limb.

"Isis!" Elster screamed, rushing forward as fast as her tingling mechanical limbs could take her. Arms shaking, she raised her lasgun.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Bolts of scarlet energy scorched metal and stripped paint from plate. A skull face turned, regarding her with glowing red eyes. The servo-automata before her snaked forward on roiling metal tendrils, arm clamps opening wide.

"Get...out of my way!" Elster grunted, side-stepping a clacking clamp and kicking the robot in what passed for a chest. As it recoiled, she jammed her lasgun right at it and pulled the trigger.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Sparks erupted from its chest. A bolt struck the venerable skull of a long-dead Xanian acolyte, fracturing it. Cogitators sparked and melted, the machine trembling with the damage.

Zap.

"Ngh!" Elster kicked, sending the damaged machine to the floor. "Get...nah!"

A second servo-automaton rushed her from the side, clamps grabbing her lasgun. Its weight bowled her over, as it bent down on top of her.

"Elster!" Isis cried, looking sideways around one of the robots assailing her. "Ah!" she squeaked, a tentacle wrapping around her helmet and popping it off with utmost ease. "N-no! Stop!" she yelled, to the open air.

She reached out blindly, but the automata had no minds to touch. No thoughts to steal, no fears to stoke. No threads of pain to pluck. Only orders filtered down through a brain stem by cogitators, that must be obeyed.

"G-get...off of me!" Elster grunted, trying in vain to force the heavy metal machine off. It pressed down with weight alone, straining her artificial muscle. "Isis! Hang on! I'll...ah!"

She pulled a hand from her lasgun and threw it out in front of her. Her assailant pulled a clamp back, opening it wide, and whirring a drill to life.

Scrrrrunch!

"ARGH!" Elster cried, a tear breaking out in her eye as she watched the drill plow through the palm of her hand. Shredding polyethylene and artificial muscle, and scraping her titanium bones. Pain ran up her arm, as she struggled just to hold the drill back from piercing her face. "Nggh! FFFFFUCCCK!"

"Yes! YES!" Datasmith Baral cackled, looking down in glee. "Finish her! Finish-"

KHA-B O O M ! ! !

The tech priest recoiled, throwing arms and back-mounted manipulators over his head. "What!?" he screeched, peeking out. Golden light reflected off his eye-lenses. "M-my Arlatax!"

Clunk.

"Hnn?" he grunted in surprise, still reeling from the loss of the pride of his Maniple.

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack.

His eyes hove sideways, looking up at the vent cover swinging on the ceiling, before down at the figure rushing toward him across the catwalk. He reached for his sidearm. "N-no! Do-"

BZZZZT!

The Arc Pistol spoke, barrel a mere meter from Baral's face. Lightning flashed, bathing the room for the span of an instant in bright blue light.

"AaaarRRRGH!" the Datasmith screeched, every muscle in his body contracting at once. Every vein filled with vaporizing fluid, every nerve flaring to life. He stumbled back to the railing, as cogitator elements burned out, and his brain boiled in his skull. "...ack..."

Daisy continued to point the weapon, looted from the Serpens Ferreus and borrowed from her teacher, as she watched the scion of the Legio Cybernetica pitch backward over the railing.

He tumbled, twitching and smoking and shooting sparks, to the floor below. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Crash.

"Daisy!" Isis cried, struggling against the machines desperate to pull her apart.

"...why aren't they stopping!?" Hippolyta yelled, shrinking low behind her rapidly melting cover. The Kastellan continued to pepper the machine with its Phosphor Blaster.

The Ara rushed to the railing, leaning with one hand. "They're automata!" she shouted. "They'll keep trying to fulfill their last instructions until they can't!" She looked down at her Arc Pistol, waiting impatiently for it to recharge on its own.

"Mrrgh!" Elster growled, eyebrow twitching. Teeth gritted, she pushed hard against the drill arm still trying to perforate her. "Fine! I'll...ngh...do it myself!"

She pushed with her other arm against the lasgun, to give her room. Letting go, her hand shot down to her belt. With quick motion, she reached up and slashed with her talon-knife.

The servo-automaton sparked and leaked coolant, as cables connecting skull to body were severed clean. It twitched and shuddered, drill automatically cutting off.

"Hurry!" Isis cried, feeling the metal tentacles strain against her arms. She shut her eyes, desperately trying to resist the pulling force. Even as artificial muscles threatened to snap in her arms and legs. "Nnagh!"

"Get off of her!"

Hippolyta rushed across the manufactorum floor, ducking a blast of Phosphor that sailed over her head. Raised her grenade launcher.

Shunk.

A krak grenade magnetized to the carapace of one servo-automaton. Beeped.

"Hippolyta!" Isis breathed, looking to her right. She renewed her struggles, as the machines sensed a new target.

The one with the grenade on its back straightened up on its snaking stalk of tendrils. A forelimb came loose from the Kolibri's leg.

As the beeping intensified, it reached back blindly for the explosive.

Boom!

The Storch and Kolibri flinched, as the tentacled horror detonated. Carapace cracked, internals ruptured. Sparks and fluids shot out of the hole, as its prehensile limbs flailed. It toppled over, letting go of the Kolibri entirely.

Fwhoosh!

"Shit!" Hippolyta grunted, diving away as another phosphor blast struck the ground beneath her hooves.

"Hip!" Isis cried. Gritting her teeth, she groped for her belt and pulled her own talon-knife.

The Kastalan's Phospher Blaster, metal white hot, twitched. Automatic systems deactivated the weapon subroutine, to prevent damaging its own armament.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, kicking the heavy, dead machine off. "C-coming!" she breathed, staggering to her hooves. Mangled hand twitching in pain.

"Yah!" the Kolibri yelled, slicing away the tentacle grasping her left wrist. It came away cleanly. She sat up, then cut the line holding her ankle. "Ngh! Gah!" she grunted, rolling and crawling away rapidly.

"Die!" Elster grunted, jumping on the servo-automaton's back as it looked quizzically at its severed limbs. She reached around the bulky carapace, and sliced the dense bundle of cables and wires that served as its neck.

The robot vented sparks, fluids, and smoke as it rattled and twitched. Finally pitched forward and crashed to the floor.

"Sorry I'm late!" Double Tap coughed, rushing over. She kicked over the twitching machine Elster sent sprawling earlier, and aimed her las carbine.

Zap. Zap.

The smoking machine ceased moving, its systems destroyed.

"Alright," Hippolyta said, glancing over at the Star. "Just one more to..."

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"Hippolyta!" Daisy called, from above. "Watch out!"

"Eh?" the Storch said, looking up at the shadow falling over her.

"Hip!" Isis yelled, rising to her hooves.

The Kastellan, shifting to a backup set of instructions on its programming tree, stomped forward and slammed its fist into the Storch's chest.

"Oof!" Hippolyta grunted, stumbling back with a force that almost knocked her off her hooves.

"Hip!" Elster yelled, tripping on tingling legs. Climbed over a fallen servo-automata with difficulty. She sheathed her talon-knife, and pulled another krak grenade.

"C-come on!" Hippolyta grunted, smiling. "You scared, tin can?" Backing up, she raised her grenade launcher.

Shunk.

A fist-sized piece of metal flew high, snapping magnetically to the automaton's head. Beeping.

Uncaring, the Kastelan trudged forward, heedless of its inevitable doom.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"Bring it down!" Elster yelled, limping forward. She fumbled with the grenade, trying to unpin it one-handed. Her damaged hand twitched at her side.

"I got it!" Hippolyta said, smirking. She made to back up, eyes fixed on the beeping explosive about to destroy the machine's face. "It's already over. I-"

Her hoof stepped blindly on a roller, left on the ground from the earlier destruction. It rolled under her.

"Eh!?" Hippolyta gasped, lurching backward, off-balance. She threw her arms out, hooves flailing. Trying to gain purchase as her center of gravity tipped inexorably back.

Isis gasped.

"...ah!" Double Tap breathed, throwing a hand out.

"Don't...!" Elster called, forgetting all about the grenade in her hand. She watched in alarm as the Storch tumbled to the ground.

Stomp. Stomp.

"No!" Elster yelled, rushing in without thinking. "ARGH!"

The robot back-handed her with its spent bolter arm, sending her sprawling away to the ground.

"Elster!" Isis rushed to the replika commander's side, then looked wide-eyed back to the automaton. "N-no!"

"Stop it!" Double Tap yelled, raising her las-carbine. "Get away from her!"

Zap Zap Zap. Zap Zap.

Scarlet bolts pinged off the bone-white armor plates. Ignored.

"Ngh!" Hippolyta grunted, back arching in pain. She tried to sit up, wincing. "Wha...eh?" She peeked, and fell silent.

The Storch could see the metal soles of the Kastelan's massive foot. Could see textures in the ridged metal.

Stomp.

"..."

The replikas all froze. Staring.

"..." Hippolyta looked up, feeling the machine pressing down on her. Eyes drifted to its head. Heard the beeping reach a crescendo.

It didn't explode fast enough.

Huh, she thought, as time slowed to a crawl. So this is how I...

CRUNCH.

"..."

Everyone's hearts skipped a beat. Couldn't breathe. For the length of the ticking of a clock.

Boom!

The Kastellan's head exploded, showering the room with debris. The robot halted, dead on its feet.

This broke both the silence, and the paralysis.

"GAH!" Hippolyta gasped, oxidizing fluid erupting from her mouth. Eyes wide. Arms curled, more in surprise and alarm than just in pain.

"HIP!" Daisy screamed, from on high.

"HIP!" Isis shrieked.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Elster cried, struggling to her hooves. The pinned grenade in her hand discarded, forgotten.

"Get off her!" Double Tap yelled, rushing to the front of the automaton's motionless, standing carcass. She slammed her shoulder into the Kastellan's stomach. When this didn't budge it, she pressed her hands and shoulder in and tried to push. "Come on!" she whined. "Come oooon!"

"Hurry!" Elster shrieked, rushing to Hippolyta's side and tucking both hands under the robot's metal boot. Even despite that her damaged hand sent pain up her arm. She didn't care. Her eyes were frantic. "Get it off! Get it off! Quickly!"

"Hip!" Isis yelled, running around behind and wrapping her arms around the machine's treetrunk sized leg. "We'll...ngh...get it off!" She clasped her eyes shut, pulling with all the strength in her tiny body.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Daisy muttered, pacing back and forth on the catwalk above. She removed her helmet, eyes darting around. Either for a way to get down, or a way to assist.

"Ngh..." Hippolyta grunted, mouth quivering. She stared up, eyes as wide as they could go. Another gout of oxident flowed from her mouth. "Gck!"

She couldn't breathe. She...didn't know if she ever would again. Her ribcage definitely collapsed this time.

As her eyes sagged, blinking sadly, she heard it. Above the desperate grunts of her family. Above her rapidly beating heart. The sound of ringing in her ears, from when she heard the Ordinatus Engines "speak".

What a...last day...I'm having... Hippolyta thought, coughing. Another gout of scarlet leaked from the sides of her delirious smile.

"N-no, Hip!" Isis cried, grunting against the impossible weight. "You're not going to die! Stay...ngh...with us!"

"Don't be scared, baby!" Elster breathed, eyes shut. Struggling in pain against the titanic weight of the robot's foot. "If we can just...ngh! Come on! Lift!"

"It's not working!" Double Tap grunted, booted hooves slipping on the grated floor, as she pressed her whole weight against the standing body.

"TRY HARDER!" Elster yelled, throwing her head up. "NNNGH!" She opened her eyes.

They widened, as she saw a figure leap onto the automaton.

"Huff!" Daisy grunted, booted hooves scrambling against the Kastelan's back. She gritted her teeth, mechandendrites latching onto any handhold available. Forced herself to the top, and looked down at the ravaged innards of the machine. "H-hold on, Hip! I'll get it off!"

"Hurry!" Isis cried, boots slipping on the grate. She pressed her hooves to the leg itself, trying to pull it over with just her weight. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew where she was positioned was suicidal if they managed to tip the robot over. She didn't care. She clasped her eyes shut and pulled. "Ngh!"

"It's okay, baby," Elster gasped, pressing her ravaged hand gently to Hippolyta's oxident-drenched cheek. Even as she kept pulling with her good hand, she mumbled frantically to the Storch. "Everything's going to be okay. W-we'll get it off, a-and then we'll get you better." She was talking a mile a minute. "Just...hang on!"

Hippolyta winced, coughing again. She felt what may have been another puncture of a lung. Was it the same lung? Or were both her lungs perforated by her own broken, titanium ribs? Dots formed at the edges of her vision. She looked up at her mother, forcing a pained smile. "..."

Elster's lips quivered. Heart sank. "Daisy!" she shrieked, gripping the boot with her bad hand again and pulling. "What's taking so long!?"

"...almost..." Daisy grunted, staring down intently at her task. Hands, mechandendrites, and her servo-skull furiously worked. Repairing cables, rerouting wires, bypassing safeties, and connecting to auxiliary control nodes. "...almost...GOT IT!"

The automaton's cadaver rumbled to life. The replikas at its feet flinched, looking up.

Carefully, shakily, the Kastelan rocked back. Its metal foot rose, weight lifted from the Storch's crushed chest.

"GAAAAH!" Hippolyta gasped, realizing belatedly that one lung seemed to be intact. Or intact enough to draw in air. The grenade launcher stock, held until now in a death grip, fell from her hand. Her arms coiled up, as she began a coughing fit. Spraying scarlet everywhere.

"You did it!" Double Tap yelled, looking between her injured family member and the robot's foot stomping roughly back on the bare floor. She crouched down, hand on the Storch's shoulder. "Hip!"

"Hippolyta!" Isis cried rushing to her other side. She commanded her medical servo skull to be at ready.

"Hip! Sweetie!" The obstruction now cleared, Elster straddled the Storch's waist. Ripped off her helmet and cast it aside. She pulled her talon-knife out. "Hold on, baby!" she gasped, giving a wary smile. She hooked the blade under the lip of Hippolyta's suit collar. "Everything's going to be...alright!"

She sliced down, cutting through pseudo-rubber and armor plates alike. The voidsuit, far from protecting her baby, only got in the way. Elster made two clean cuts, and folded the front of the suit down. Sat up higher so she could tuck the material between her legs. Now, she could survey the damage...

"..." Elster gasped, eyes wide.

Even from the surface, it was worse than she could have imagined.

The chest plate was concave. Scarlet fluid bubbled up from seams twisted open.

"N-no!" Double Tap gasped, removing her helmet. Clapped a hand over her masked mouth.

"D.T." Elster said, gritting her teeth. "Help me unscrew her. Now!"

"R-right!" the Star said, fumbling with a tool at her belt.

Isis watched in stunned silence, hands pressed over her mouth. Watched as layers of protection for Hippolyta's vital organs were painstakingly removed.

"Ise," Elster said, trying to pop the chest plate open. "Inject her! Now!"

"R-right!" Isis said, fumbling with her belt. She pulled out an autoinjector, and pressed it to Hip's neck.

"Mnh!" Hippolyta whined, wincing. She pitched her head back, suppressing another oxident-laden cough. "Mnn...ngh...rrnn!" She opened her eyes, as she felt the soothing rush of chemicals in her veins. The overwhelming pain dropped to a dull ache. Her shoulders sagged, tension fading. She blinked toward the ceiling.

For a moment, she permitted herself hope. ...Circe...

Pop.

The severely bent chest plate was discarded to the side. Leaking scarlet to the metal floor.

"..."

Elster clapped a scarlet-drenched hand over her mouth. Eyes looked through the collapsed ribcage. And below it. "...no...no, no, no..."

[ORGAN STATUS: TERMINAL]

"...she's..." Double Tap gasped, swallowing. "...she's...going to make it...right?" But her eyes could see well enough, the words tasted like ash in her mouth.

[ORGAN STATUS: TERMINAL]

[ORGAN STATUS: CRITICAL]

Isis whimpered, moisture forming in her eyes. "...Hip..."

[ORGAN STATUS: CRITICAL]

"..." Hippolyta took a shallow, ragged breath. Her voice was weak. "...that...bad...huh?"

[ORGAN STATUS: TERMINAL]

[ORGAN STATUS: INCONCLUSIVE]

[ORGAN STATUS: CRITICAL]

[ORGAN STATUS: TERMINAL]

[ORGAN STATUS: TERMINAL]

[ORGAN STATUS: TERMINAL]

Her organs were crushed. Liver, spleen, intestines, oxident organ. Anything that wasn't ruptured outright was bruised to the point of blackness. The cavity was rapidly filling with oxidizing fluid that leaked from everywhere.

Even with all the spray foam in the world, there was no chance of stopping the bleeding.

Elster's heart sank. Her medical module kept flashing new data points, every second. Reticle after reticle. Line item after line item.

[PROGNOSIS: TERMINAL]

"...nooooo!" Elster whined, holding hands out toward the chest cavity.

"Wh-what to we do?" Double Tap gasped, looking between Hippolyta and Elster.

"Th-there's..." Isis shivered, lower lip trembling. Tears welled in her eyes. "...there's nothing...we can can..."

"NO!"

Elster fumbled with her electric screwdriver and frantically sought to loosen the titanium ribcage. "I won't let...I won't let you go!" She began unscrewing. Allowed screws to tumble where they would. One tumbled into the chest cavity, disappearing in the oxidizing fluid. She didn't care.

"...m-mom..." Hippolyta mumbled, frowning.

"It's going to be okay, baby!" Elster breathed, fumbling with the infernal covering. The cage that failed her daughter, when it was most needed. She sniffed. "It'll be okay, it'll be...okay..." She spoke quickly, voice going weaker and softer with each ragged breath. "I'm...going to fix you! Mommy can fix anything, you'll see!"

Even when all the screws came loose, she struggled to remove the ribcage. Struck in place due to the way the metal was bent inward. "C-come on! Get...off!" she grunted, pulling on the metal one-handed. She tried with both hands, wincing at the pain shooting up her arm. She pulled so hard, she lifted Hippolyta off the ground for a second.

"Gck!" Hippolyta coughed, as she slammed back to the floor.

"Gah!" Elster looked back and forth to her children beside her. "Well!? Aren't you going to help!?" She pointed down at Hippolyta. "Your sister is DYING!"

Isis merely looked at her mother, hands clasped over her mouth. Tears rolling down her face.

Double Tap shook her head. Staring with sad eyes. "...mom..."

Elster scowled, moisture in her eyes. "Fine! Daisy!" she shrieked, half-turning her head up. "Get down here! I need an engineer! Hip needs..."

The Ara stood on the shoulder of the thing that murdered her sister. Face buried in her hands. She...couldn't look at what was happening.

"...mo...om..."

A hand touched Elster's wrist. She flinched. Looked down.

Hippolyta put on a weak smile. Scarlet running in rivulets down her cheeks, pooling behind her head. "...it's...okay..." she croaked weakly.

"..." A lump formed in Elster's throat. "...Hip?"

The Storch's hand rose and caressed Elster's cheek.

At that touch, the dam broke. Tears rolled down the mother's cheek. "...Hip!" she gasped, injured hand squeezing her daughter's. "...my baby..."

"Shhhh..." Hippolyta said, pressing lips together. With a free hand, she tapped her temple, and turned eyes toward Isis. "...con...nect...us..." she gurgled.

The Kolibri nodded, whole body trembling. She reached out a shaky hand and caressed the Storch's head.

Through the mental channel, they could hear her thoughts. Hippolyta smiled.

Mom...it's okay...you did you best...you...don't have to fight for me anymore...

"My baby!" Elster shuddered, gasping. She reached a hand out.

Hippolyta thumbed a tear away from her mother's face. Need you to know...I...really loved fighting by your side. Kicking ass. Taking names. I...hope you get to reunite with Ariane...so, for her sake...and all of their's...and mine...don't give up. Be strong.

"Please, sweetie, baby girl, I can't..." Elster whimpered, fresh tears blinding her. Her lower lip quivered, and her throat had a lump she couldn't clear. She gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth.

You can, Hippolyta said, unable to stop a cough from bringing up more oxident. "Gck!" She forced a pained smile. You're a super badass. Nothing, and no one, is going to stop you. Not Marines. Not Emperors. Not Revolutionaries. Not Daemons. And certainly not Gods. You're stronger than...all of them. So...don't give up.

Elster sobbed, shutting her eyes.

With effort, Hippolyta turned her head sideways, and extended a hand to Double Tap. D.T....tell Dash and Kite I'm sorry. Sorry for...not coming back.

All pretense of cool was long gone on the Star's face. She ripped her face mask off and took a heaving breath. Mouth contorted in pain. "...d-don...don't say that, Hip..." she breathed, extending a hand. "It's gonna..."

"Shhh..." Hippolyta said, taking the Star's hand. Squeezed it. Take care of my sisters, okay? They need...a cool STAR to mentor them. Teach them...to keep their anger in check. Can you do that for me?

Double Tap doubled over, wheezing in pain. Eyes shut. Sniffed. "...yeah..." she sobbed. "I...I'll do that,Hip...I promise!"

There's a good girl, Hippolyta thought, nodding. She coughed, spraying drops of scarlet to the air.

Elster almost balked when her child removed her hand. Then watched as it was extended to the Kolibri.

Isis...

"Agh!" Isis cried out, quickly reaching out to take her step-mom's hand. "Hip!" she sobbed, tears and mucus pouring down her face. "Don't go!"

It's okay to cry, Hippolyta said, squeezing the little hand weakly. She smiled. Tell your mom...I love her. Always have, always will. Tell her she made me...the happiest woman in the whole damn galaxy. Can you do that?

"Mmhmm!" Isis nodded furiously, rubbing her eyes. "I will! I..." She sobbed, mental hand squeezing Hippolyta's just as hard as their physical counterparts. "M-mom!"

"Shh...shh..." Hippolyta breathed, raggedly. For what it's worth...I think you're my daughter too. My...precious baby girl.

Hippolyta shut her eyes, and rolled her head back. She stared up at the ceiling. Daisy!

The Ara, sitting on her perch, flinched. She forced herself to look down. Even she felt a lump in her throat. "...yeah?"

Keep 'em all safe, Hippolyta thought. And...tell Dio...I'm sorry. For...hurting her...and giving her grief.

Daisy nodded her head. "...okay..." she said softly, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Love you," she added quickly.

The Storch smiled. "...love...you...all..."

"...I love you, mom!" Isis gasped, placing a hand on Hippolyta's shoulder.

"I love you, girl!" Double Tap said, clutching Hippolyta's arm. Pressed the gore-spattered knuckles to her forehead. She doubled over again, tears dropping on the metal floor. "...haah..."

Elster leaned down over her baby. "P-please...Hip..." she sobbed, pressing their foreheads together. "I...I can't...don't go..."

Just...say it, Hippolyta thought, continuing to smile. It doesn't have to be goodbye. Just...say it because it's true...

A ragged, painful sob. "...hagh!" Elster kissed her daughter's cheek and sat up. Stroked her scarlet-stained face. Squeezed her hand. "I love you, Hippolyta! You're my...special girl! Strong girl! Brave girl! Beautiful girl! Always will be!"

...good...

Hippolyta took one look around, between her loved ones. Drank in their faces. Savored them, though they looked so terribly sad.

How weird. That she would be surrounded by so many people...sad to see her go.

As the warmth slowly faded from her body, and the cold crept in, she stared at the ceiling and smiled.

...this...was a good life...

Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum.

"..."

...Circe...

Badum. Badum...Badum...

"..."

...will you...be okay...without me...?

Badum...Ba-dum...

"..."

...ba...dum...

"..."

Rubbing her eyes, Elster looked down at the chest cavity. Eyed the battered and bruised organs.

The lungs did not fill or empty. The heart did not beat.

She gasped, eyes widening. "...Hippolyta?" she whispered.

Double Tap flinched, looking up. "...no..."

"Hippolyta!" Elster shook her daughter's shoulders. "Baby, wake up! WAKE UP!"

Isis buried her face in her hands. "...Elster...she's..."

Elster cupped her hands around her girl's face. "...Hippolyta..." she sobbed, her voice cracking. "...sweetie...?"

Isis placed her hand on Elster's shoulder. "Elster...Hip is..." Her own voice broke as she said it, "...gone..."

Elster stared wide eyed. Then grimaced in pain.

"...nnnnagh!" Elster cried, shoulders slumping violently. "...Hip..."

Double Tap fell over, allowing herself to roll onto her side. Fists clenched, she slammed the metal floor. "...dammit...dammit..." Eyes screwed shut, every muscle taut. "Dammit!" she screamed, rolling on her back and banging hands and hooves to the floor. She whined and sobbed. "Daa-aaa-aammit!"

"...mommy..." Isis whimpered, tucking legs to her chest and burying her face into her knees. She cried softly.

Above, Daisy watched Elster pick up the Storch by her shoulders and hug her. The Ara turned away. Wished now, of all times, she could fucking cry.

Their collective mother, at least, had no shortage of tears.

"HIPPOLYTA!" she cried, soaking the front of her voidsuit with leaking scarlet as she pressed her daughter to her chest. Fingers weaved through her dark hair. Rocked back and forth. "MY BABY! DON'T LEAVE ME! MY BABY, NO!"

She left nothing in reserve. She vented it all. Every tear, every sob, every hitched breath. Every term of endearment whispered in her ear or belted out at high volume. She had neither the strength nor the will to hold back. There was...no point, anymore.

One of Elster's children...was dead.

And in that moment, she cursed every decision she ever made.

Elster wept.

 

Crash.

Hooves clacked rapidly across the tiled floor. Kitchen doors slid open by themselves.

Vanessa stood at the entrance, looking in. "Circe?" she said, tugging on a lock of blond hair nervously. She looked to the floor.

The shattered teacup spilled its contents everywhere. A dark puddle formed at the Kolibri's hooves.

"...sweetie?" Vanessa said, frowning. She looked up to the diminutive woman. "...what happened?"

Circe leaned hard against the counter, clutching her chest. Sweat broke out on her face. A bottomless pit formed in her stomach. She felt a part of her - a part of her heart - severed. Lost. Gouged out with a knife.

Now, only a painful emptiness remained. A yawning abyss that could never be filled. A terrible, heart-wrenching absence.

"...Hip..." Circe breathed in horror, and sudden loss. "...Hippolyta...she's dead..."

Chapter 70: Sheaol Penitentiary

Boom.

"...Elster..."

She should have told Hippolyta to blow a hole in the blast doors, so they could avoid the fight entirely.

Boom.

"Elster."

She should have kept them moving through the utility tunnels and elevator shafts.

Boom.

"Elster!"

She shouldn't have brought them to Xana at all.

Boom.

She shouldn't have dragged her children into a warzone. She should have gone alone. Should have taken the Penrose, used Mik'hul to get around.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

She should never have created other replikas in the first place. She should have stayed alone. All she needed to do was kill. She should never have tried to create life.

She never should have been born...

"MOM!"

The bereaved mother flinched, as a hand clapped her on the shoulder. Face stained by oxident and tears rose from where it lay buried in her daughter's hair.

The daughter that was dead. Dead because of her.

"Mom..."

Elster turned her head. Looked over her shoulder. "...Daisy..."

The Ara alone stood amid a panorama of ruined machines, ruined automata, and ruined lives. One such corpse of a robot stood behind her, bone white and trimmed in black. Phosphor blaster over its shoulder gone cold.

Boom.

Rust flakes shook from the ceiling. Fell like a bitter, orange snow. Somewhere in the levels above, battle was joined.

"...we can't stay here," Daisy said, flatly. "We need to move."

Elster blinked. Looked up. Then back down, to her precious baby girl. She leaned Hippolyta's head back, and raised two fingers. Silently closed her eyes.

Rising groggily to her hooves, Double Tap wiped her eyes and nose. Sniffed. "...she's right," the Star said, voice gravely. She looked around. "If either the Xanites or the Horusites find us, we're dead."

"..." Elster frowned, on the verge of tears again. "...Hip..."

"I know," Daisy said, holding up her hands for emphasis, even thought Elster faced away. "But...we Can't. Stay. Here. Whatever we do, it can't be here. We have to go."

"Where?"

Isis sat up, rubbing her aching eyes. Wiped a face filthy with fluids. "...what do we do? Where do we go?"

"...I..." Elster said, hugging her murdered daughter, stroking her hair.

"Do we keep going down?" Double Tap said, looking to her mother. "Do we complete the mission?"

A lump in her throat. Elster shook her head, face wracked with pain. "...I don't..."

"But...what if someone else dies?" Isis said, rising uneasily to her hooves. "...Hip..."

"Mom, please," Double Tap said, picking up her las carbine. "What do we do?"

Elster shut her eyes and scowled. "I don't know!" she yelled.

"..."

The replika mother sobbed, nuzzling her cheek into her baby's head. It came away even more stained scarlet. "...I...don't know what to do. My poor decisions brought us here. Can...can I trust my judgment? I..." She whimpered. "...Hip...my baby..."

"Fine. I'll decide."

The other three turned to face the Ara.

"...Daisy?" Isis said.

The tech priest clenched a fist. "...I can't say why I don't cry, even when I should," Daisy said, frowning. "But I'll use it as an asset now. If mom can't decide what to do, I will." She looked around. "If that's not a problem?"

Double Tap frowned, then looked to the floor. "...you're the eldest child. I'm fine with whatever, so long as we start moving."

"...okay," Isis said, nodding.

"Good," Daisy said, nodding back. She looked down at her hand. Clenched a fist. Looked up. "We're leaving. The mission is over."

Elster jerked her head back. "What?"

"If it comes down to just moving on, for the sake of operational security and...the safety of the team..." Daisy looked at Elster. "...we exfiltrate. Find a route through the utility tunnels back to the surface, and hope to reach the shuttle without encountering any..."

"No."

The Ara stopped. "...mom?"

Elster scowled. Stared into space.

Double Tap and Isis looked at Elster, uneasily.

"...we...can't just leave," Elster said, low and slow. She looked down at Hippolyta. Her big girl, her brave girl, cradled in her arms. "...we're almost there. We complete the mission."

"Understand, mother," Daisy said, neutrally, "that if we keep pressing deeper into the facility, it will be harder to leave. And we'll face more resistance. More of us could get hurt, or killed. Is this really what you want?"

"If we leave now," Elster growled, "then Hippolyta will have died for nothing!"

"..."

Isis clutched hands to her chest. "...Elster..."

Double Tap looked down at Hippolyta, then to Elster. She shut her eyes. "Whichever is fine with me."

"That's your decision?" Daisy said. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Elster said, clenching her fist. "I'm sure."

"..." Daisy stared at the back of Elster's head, then nodded. "Very well. Sunk Cost it is, then." She walked to Elster's side, placed a hand on her mother's shoulder. She considered forcing a smile, then thought better of it. Frowned instead. "...we have an additional problem. What do we do with Hip's...just Hip?"

The previous angry energy spent, Elster looked down at her baby girl. She panicked. "...shit...I..."

"Fuck," Double Tap said, kicking a loose conveyor roller. "Didn't think of that. She'll be heavy, hard as it is to say at a time like this..."

"We can't just leave her!" Isis cried, pressing a hand to her cheek in horror. "We couldn't!"

"We won't!" Elster said, hugging her daughter closer. "We can't...I just..." She looked down. "...what do we do?"

"..."

Daisy briefly considered decapitation as an option. A head was far easier to abscond with than a whole replika body. And it, or at least her brain, was the most "Hippolyta" part of Hippolyta.

"..." But Daisy immediately thought better of it. The others would never go along with it willingly. Or they would dither, requiring a great deal of convincing and, crucially, time they had precious little of. There had to be a better solution. Preferably one that utilized the tools on hand...

The Ara looked sideways. Saw a very large, mostly intact tool. "...I have an idea. Isis, find me some ropes or cables. Clamps too, if possible..."

"What?" Isis said, looking bewildered.

Elster looked over her shoulder, and understood the plan immediately. She looked forward again, nodding. "Do it."

There was nothing for it. She didn't come halfway across the galaxy, dodging lunatics and fighting monsters, just to give up now. As bad as she felt, she'd feel even worse if she lost so much - including her daughter - and just left the job half finished. Such an act would be...intolerable. Unacceptable. Unthinkable.

She kissed Hippolyta on the forehead. "...just hang on, baby," she whispered. "It'll be over soon."

Elster compartmentalized her grief.

 

"[Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert. Intruder-]"

Fsssshhh!

The speaker melted, dripping molten metal to the floor. Voice distorting and degrading until phosphor consumed it.

What few prisoners not committed to the now-defunct demonstration rattled the bars of their cells. Those physically able to stand, that is. When they saw who was coming, however, they retreated to the shadows.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The Panopticon rattled with explosions from above. The prison pit stretched both up and down a hundred floors. Cells arranged around the perimeter of an enormous shaft, watched eternally by a central pillar lined with cameras and watch stations.

A dead or dying gestalt fell past the landing, disappearing below. The replikas paid them no heed.

"Stop!" called an augmented guard. He threw up an arm, shaking nervously. "No!" He motioned to the tech-thralls at his side. "Take them out!"

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

Laslock shots impacted useless against bone-colored armor. Accomplishing naught but scorching the paint job.

The shoulder-mounted Phosphor Blaster answered.

Fsssshhh!

"Argh!" the guard cried, his cyborg body erupting into flame. Metal and flesh alike melted, as he flailed and writhed to the ground.

"Take them out," Elster said, pointing around the automaton's bulk.

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

One by one, tech-thralls fell to an onslaught of flame and light.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The hijacked robot crushed a twitching cyborg beneath its metal foot.

Elster looked down at the trampled figure with pity, then away. Saw another dying figure, and aimed.

Zap.

Her Soul Count decremented one. With a hastily repaired offhand, she laboriously checked her laspistol's ammunition reflexively.

The Kastelan robot, neck stump newly adorned with Daisy's repurposed servo skull, acted as their mobile shield, heavy weapons platform, and battering ram.

Lashed to its back, swaying gently with each heavy footfall, Hippolyta hung ensconced in a hammock made from canvas netting pilfered from a cargo palette. Her chest plate reattached. If not for all the oxident caking her face, she would appear merely dozing.

Sleep tight, Hip, Elster thought, clenching her jaw. Raised her laspistol. It's not far now. Then we'll leave this horrible place behind.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"Halt, intruders!"

A shirtless, bald gestalt stepped around a corner. Interposed himself between the team and a passage leading to the large freight elevator.

Copper pathways and augmetics weaved into and out of his pale, hairless skin. A large dynamo hung from his back, connected by wires to his wrists. Though he wore a blindfold - his eyes melted from their sockets long ago - the Corpuscarius saw them perfectly well. Or rather, their inner lightning.

"I am Fidrik Nel Toth!" screamed the electro-priest, his body coruscating with lightning. "Acolyte of the Corpuscari, and servant of the holy Motive Force!" He clapped his hands over his head, and electricity arced between them as they parted.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"Your stolen gifts of the Machine God and the Omnissiah shall not avail you, for the third part of the trinity I offer willingly!" His body writhed with electrical power. His face creased by a smile of pure, hysterical elation. The rapture of a miracle that flowed through his very body. "Begone, hereteks! Or I shall-"

SMACK.

The Kastelan back-handed the electro-priest with such force, it shattered both the guard rail and the man's spine.

"AAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!" the electro-priest screamed, as he plummeted to his death far below. Lightning arcing from his body to surrounding platforms as he fell.

Double Tap and Isis looked down at the retreating figure uneasily. Daisy looked forward, controlling her new puppet by Noospheric link alone.

Elster glared forward, not giving the man the slightest glance or moment's second thought.

I am so tired of this place. This Höhle der Verrückten, this...den of madmen. Damn you, Xana. May death itself rise to claim you.

 

The Noosphere roiled with discord and panic.

Shattered ships burned in the skies above Xana II, contributing to the already considerable debris field of the gas giant it orbited. Logisticians predicted that fully two thirds of the bulk haulers meant for delivery to the Warmaster were already unsalvageable, or soon would be. Many already spun out of inertial control into the void, or plummted into Xana I's depths.

The Vodian Consistory recognized this new foe. The Dark Sovereign. That archeo-cruiser pulled from the ice of Ganymede centuries ago. Gifted by the Emperor to the first of his Legions, the Dark Angels. Some on Xana's leadership remembered fighting alongside it, during the Rangdan Xenocides, though that conflict, of course, remained a hazy blur. So much the better, as some on the Synod said.

It had free reign of the core of their system, within striking distance of Xana II itself. The only possible reason the Dark Sovereign hadn't yet struck the Forge World itself was its apparent preoccupation with Mu-571. The quartz-white vessel's void shields broken, the ancient Xenos artifact prey to teleporting Deathwing Terminators.

Despite vociferous objections by forces on the front lines, there was nothing for it. What was projected to be a costly but ultimately successful war of attrition on the edge of the system turned into a fighting retreat. Forces committed to repelling the Praetorian of Terra's retribution fleet were withdrawn with all haste. If their victory had been projected as costly, projections of their fighting retreat were far worse.

The Consistory could not do otherwise. Not one, but TWO enemy capital ships remained in the immediate orbital volume of Xana I. The Dark Sovereign, and now the Cicathrice Tyrannis, proven in truth to be more Loyalist agents in disguise. The false Sons of Horus ravaged Xana-Tisiphone with wild abandon. Using siege weapons Xana offered them!

The Noosphere was alive with panic, fury, and recrimination. Accusations thrown readily and loudly. Incompetence. Dereliction of duty. Betrayal of sacred oaths of protection in return for fealty of the Forge-fanes.

The Vodian Consistory was even now in the process of restoring order. Examples made of particularly recalcitrant subjects. There was no illusion among Xana's leadership these grumblings wouldn't continue, even after the chain of command was reestablished. But it would be reestablished. It HAD to be. Their domain could not survive otherwise.

Despite the circumstances, projections still looked positive, if serious. The periphery of the system would need to be ceded to the Loyalist retribution fleet, to focus on driving away the snakes coiled around the system's very heart. Defenses consolidated there, so the cascading series of disasters could be managed.

And managed they would be. The Vodian Consistory remained confident. They would not die here. Nor would they be taken by surprise yet again.

 

"[What do you mean, 'a noise'?]"

The Yardmaster of Setna Forge trudged across the vast, rockcrete field to the mountain of storage containers hauled down from orbit. A sea of metal boxes, held to exacting STC regulations, amid or on top of huge void transit carriers in their dozens. All beneath the shadow of high towers and the Setna space elevator.

Adsecularis thralls and automata milled around the Warmaster's "gifts", awaiting the moment they were granted access through cipher-locks. Heads turned to watch the robed figure's approach.

"Is this the container, T09-Y34?"

"Aye, Yardmaster," said the cyborg, pointing a laslock grafted to the end of his arm. His face unseen beneath an armored mask. "But it's not just this one anymore, sir. Others have started up."

"Impossible," the Yardmaster grumbled, waving the thrall aside. He limped forward, cursing his sole, mostly organic leg. He would replace it soon. "We scanned the modules already. There's nothing but inert equipment and corpses in there."

He approached the shipment module in front of him. Cursing under his breath.

The Yardmaster oversaw the inspection personally. Wielded auspex suites, looking for vital signs or heat signatures. There was nothing alive or active inside those containers.

Silently, he leaned in close. Held his breath, that he might limit ambient nose.

"..."

Dunk.

The Yardmaster flinched, pulling back. "What?" he muttered. He leaned in again.

Dunk. Clink. Mmmmrrrn.

"...can't be..." he breathed. He raised a metal hand, warily. Aiming to reach out and touch the side of the container.

It was in this moment, his mind fresh with reports on the Noosphere of the rising calamity in orbit, that a thought occurred to him. One that gave the Yardmaster pause. "..."

The Sons of Horus delivered the materials, as payment in kind for Xana's own contributions to the Warmaster's rebellion. Divvied up between the major Forges of Xana II - Setna, Tephra, and Escorial - by order of the Vodian Consistory.

But the "Sons of Horus" on Xana-Tisiphone were frauds, or else betrayed Xana.

It was only now, mere hands breadths from the containers, did it occur to the Yardmaster: if the Astartes on Xana-Tisiphone came under false pretenses...what occupied these containers?

Crank!

"Ah!" the Yardmaster yelped, jumping back as solid metal bent out under a great blow. His artificial heart automatically sped up. He clutched his chest. "Come quickly!"

"Sir!" the tech-thrall from before called, waving over other Adsecularis troops. He jogged over on metal legs.

Bang. Bang.

"Oh, Omnissiah!" the robed man said, backing away. His organic mouth, wrinkled with age, contorted in alarm. "What is..."

The tech-thrall clapped his one hand on the Yardmaster's shoulder. "Stand back, sir. We'll..."

Boom!

Every human not fully servitorized flinched, as the double doors of the bulk container blew off its hinges. Landed on the rockcrete ground and skidded to a stop, shooting up sparks.

All eyes stared at the inky blackness within. Waited.

"..."

Metal floors groaned. As if under the weight of many, heavy feet.

"..." The Yardmaster chewed his lower lip. With the ill-natured noises, the robed man had the presence of mind to open a link to the Noosphere. "[Setna Yardmaster here. We have a situation at the port. There's...]"

BAM.

The Yardmaster felt something hard impact against his head and jaw. "Ah!" he flinched, as much from the noise as from the pain in his flesh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tech-thrall beside him collapse to the ground, helmeted head burst like a melon. Shooting red blood from the veins in his neck. Shards of metal and skull fell to the ground all around them.

"[Yardmaster]," said his contact at the watchtower. "[please respond. We detected weapons fire. What is going on?]"

The robed man couldn't answer. His jaw dropped. He started to back up, slowly.

From the darkness, they came.

Shuffling, striding, limping. Clad in pitted, stained, weather-worn, and critically damaged ceramite. Their colors and livery showed few consistent patterns. Green. Black and white. Black and silver. Even yellow, and white. Dragons and ravens and hands and fists and red lightning bolts.

Their wounds were varied, but uniformly of the most grievous kind. Broken limbs, hastily bolted in place by iron rods. Chest plates blown open, exposing shattered ribcages and pulped organs. Necks snapped, so their heads swayed limply to the side. Helmets with holes through temples and breathing grills and eye lenses.

Those without helmets gave the game away. Ashen, bloodless faces. Spattered with gore and mud. Eyes gouged out. Lower jaws dangling by shreds of flesh, or removed entirely. Skin blown or burned off in patches to reveal muscle and bone, where they weren't flayed deliberately by fine blades.

The eyes they had were glassy. Dead. And filled with hate.

The dead walked. And they were armed.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Ngh!" the Yardmaster screamed, as bolter rounds zipped through the air around him. He turned and ran, watching thralls explode on either side. "Attack! Attack!"

Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap.

Laslocks poured fire back at the revenant Astartes. To little effect. Even when energy struck between wide gaps in armor, cooking and bursting dead flesh, they marched forward. Unfazed by wounds that would at least give "normal" transhuman warriors pause.

"[The bodies!]" the yardmaster screamed over the Noospheric link. "[The Astartes bodies are attacking!]" He rushed for cover behind a palette of supplies. Ducked.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

He looked frantically around the corner of his meager sanctuary, and gasped.

One by one, other containers blew open from the inside. Dozens. Hundreds. The larger void carriers opened up by themselves, their loading ramps descending to the ground.

From hundreds of dark recesses, they came. The revenant Astartes.

Not a mere squad. An entire company. Multiple companies. The mountain of metal mausoleums disgorged its dead. Their bolters barking.

"[Yardmaster, have you taken leave of your senses?]" came the reply over the link. "[They cannot...wait...no, no!]"

"[You see it! I am not mad!]" the Yardmaster blared, pointing at the flood of shambling figures massacring the port's Adsecularis and Cybernetica forces. "[We need reinforcements! We need-]"

Clank. Clank. Clank.

"...oh no!" the robed man cried, before scrambling to his feet. He had to run.

Stomping down the ramp of one of the carriers was a hulking machine. Black and silver, paint chipped by thousands of bolter impacts. Limped on damaged legs the size of tree trunks. A bulbous torso, with the rough suggestion of a head, bore a blast wound that weeped black fluid. One arm torn off. The other...a mounted lascannon.

The Contemptor Dreadnought aimed.

ZZZZZAP!

The storage palette behind the robed man exploded. Showered the field in flaming debris and jagged metal.

"ARGH!" the Yardmaster yelled, the force of the explosion knocking him to the ground. "Nngh!" he grunted, trying to rise to all fours. Felt shrapnel embedded in his back and legs.

Amid the ringing in his ears and the muffled sound of bolter fire, he propped himself up on his arms and looked back. The dead were coming.

"No!" he cried, trying to crawl away. Over the Noospheric link, he shouted, "[Alert the Taghmata! Alert the whole Forge! Send the Adsecularis! The whole Cybernetica cohort! The damned Ordo Reductor!]" He looked frantically over his shoulder, and doubled his pace. "[Send House Mallinax! Every Knight frame! Send everyone! They're coming! The dead are coming! They're-]"

BAM.

The Yardmaster's back exploded, a bolter round snapping his spine and venting his insides to the air. Blood and sparks erupted from the hole, as he slumped to the ground. Gurgling his last.

Slowly, a pair of ceramite boots shuffled forward. A half-helmeted face looked down at the man.

Crunch.

The ghola Astartes in black and silver armor raised its foot from the pulped mass of bone and brain tissue. Stepped again, tracking organic refuse as it went.

Its erstwhile battle brother, Weir, was correct. The Xanians weren't traitor marines. But they were Traitors. They would do.

There was no talking. No words spoken on vox, or in the heat of battle. There were no words left to say. There was neither honor, nor tactics, nor marching orders of any kind. Save that of Forward.

There was but one objective: Kill. And Kill. And Kill.

The Keys of Hel turned. The Dead were risen in the Port of Bones.

 

Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap.

Cavernous space echoed with the blare of alarms, the discharge of weapons, the screams of the dying, and the tread of mighty metal feet. Great pillar-vaults, support structures and containment units both, overlooked the carnage.

"Ah!"

Guards screamed, gunned down by bolts from lasgun, las carbines, laspistol, and las-capable servo skull.

Fssshhhh!

"Ah! Ah! AAAAAAAGH!" a guard shrieked, set aflame as he ran. He collided with a vault door, for his eye lenses melted. He fell, burning to death.

"S-stay back!"

The head guard, radium carbine discarded as useless against a homicidal wall of metal, pulled out a detonator. "Back! Back, or I blow us all to Hel! I-I can't allow the prisoner to escape!"

Behind him, explosives pilfered from deep storerooms were affixed strategically around the principle vault. Even if the explosions themselves, or the likely collapse of the ceiling, didn't kill the prisoner, the toxic elements used in their creation would. Along with everyone else on that level.

It wasn't what Datasmith Baral ordered. Nor was dying terribly ideal. But the head guard took his duty as holy writ, even if it meant his life. He would bury himself and everyone else in toxic rubble, to keep that man from escaping. The Omnissiah demanded nothing less.

His thumb poised over the detonator switch. "I'm warning you! I'll do it!"

NEIN. DU WIRST NICHT.

The guard's hand cramped. The detonator fell from his grasp and clattered on the floor. He clutched his helmeted head, silver trim gleaming a warm copper in the red emergency lights. "Ngh...agh...ARGH!"

He collapsed, writhing in pain. His mind filled with visions and digital artifacts. Nerves, and bad memories, plucked like a harp.

Elster walked past him, pausing only so long as to aim her laspistol down.

Zap. Zap.

She walked away from the smoking, still cadaver, checking her ammo on impulse. "...D.T., Daisy," Elster said, gesturing vaguely with the weapon, "defuse those bombs."

"Right," Double Tap said, nodding.

Daisy parked the automaton facing toward the elevator, in case more forces arrived. It allowed its rear payload to hang in full view of the carnage around them.

Booted hooves backtracked. Elster leaned against the Kastelan's back leg, hand stroking Hippolyta's face. "...we made it, sweetie...it took us two and half years, but we made it..."

Hippolyta was silent.

"..." Elster had to choke back a sob. She pressed her head to the bone-painted metal, shutting her eyes. Inhaled sharply.

Elster had to stay strong. She could permit herself another emotional breakdown later. She turned her eyes to the vault.

"...just a little longer..."

 

"We're ready, Elster."

Elster walked up to the vault door and glared. "Open it. I'm tired of this place."

Daisy tapped buttons on a control panel. At a nod from the Ara, Double Tap slammed the head guard's face against the retinal scanner. Luckily, the cyborgs on duty had their eyelids removed, so there was no reason to even remove the helmet.

"[Access Granted]."

The Star allowed the body to flop unceremoniously to the ground. Watched the control panel light up.

The room rumbled not merely with distant battle, but with the turning of tumblers and pistons. Steam erupted from the vault.

The replika commander glared at the door. Her weak hand at her side, tapping impatiently.

Double Tap and Isis took places behind her. Daisy kept vigil at the control panel.

Hsssss. Creak.

Vibrations through the floor, as the vault door swung up on massive pneumatics. Mist billowed out, clinging to the ground and their booted hooves.

One by one, internal lights flared on. Revealing...a gestalt upper body, suspended by chains, draped in a hooded robe. Frayed wires jutted from hidden folds in its clothing, dangling down and disconnected. Tubes containing nutrient fluids hung from the vault ceiling, running to the figure's neck.

The face turned up. Twin, red lights peeked out from beneath the soiled black hood.

"Ah...yes. You have come. Just as the Arkifane promised you would."

Elster narrowed her eyes, regarding the gestalt with anger, impatience, and resolve.

"Anacharis Scoria."

A face of flesh, though it was stretched over his skull and held in place by pins. Eyes replaced by augmetic lenses. Though he had a ragged, exhausted condition, he regarded the newcomers coldly. In full control of his faculties.

"Yes," he said, voice tinged by unseen electronic modulation. "Former Magos Dominus Anacharis Scoria, of the Vodian Consistory. At your service."

Double Tap looked sideways at Elster. "...this really the guy?" she whispered.

Elster nodded. "It is."

Isis pressed hands to her chest. Swallowed. "...he's...cold..."

"Probably," Elster muttered. "They don't treat prisoners well here." Before Isis could clarify her meaning, Elster scowled and raised her voice. "Scoria. You'd better be fucking worth it! I've come too far, and lost too much, for this to be for nothing!" She waved a hand, gesturing to the automaton in the background. To the crumpled bundle it carried. "I lost one of my children getting here!"

'You piece of shit' went unstated. But implied.

The man stared, unblinking. "...my...condolences, for your loss," he said, inclining his head forward fractionally. "Set me free, and I can guarantee your exit will bring no similar danger to the remainder of your...companions..." He looked between the replikas.

"...that's what we're here for, yes," Elster muttered. She waved a hand. "Daisy. Restore the man, if you please."

"Right," Daisy said, nodding. She rapidly tapped the control panel.

The walls of Scoria's cell thrummed to life. Mechanical arms shot forth, following an automated set of instructions. Mechadendrites snaked out, coiling around the man and holding him aloft. Chains cut away, feeding tube disconnected. He did not resist.

Indeed, Scoria made no reaction whatsoever, save occasionally to look around through unblinking eyes.

As the arms unfolded and set to work, they belched enough steam to obscure all but the silhouette of the man. So his "restoration" appeared more akin to a shadow play.

First, the dangling wires beneath him were gathered, measured, and spliced with new couplings.

The floor opened up beneath Scoria, and from the abyss rose a central mass of metal. Manipulators attached couplings to ports at its front end, threading them inside. The machine parts of his lower torso were bolted into place.

Then, came the legs. Six of them. Segmented, insectile. These, too, were affixed to the metal body below.

Then, three long tails affixed to the back. Arms bolted what could be bolted, and welded what needed welding. The tails rose, and robotic arms individually attached energy weapons to each.

A pair of additional limbs were installed at the front, beneath Scoria's torso. They ended in large pincers.

"...holy shit..." Double Tap breathed, eyes widening fractionally with each new addition.

Finally, the ceiling opened up, and a complex metal hood lowered over the man's head. He leaned back, mechandendrites and manipulators connecting his body - and mind - to not only a set of curving defensive plates, but a suite of instruments and Noospheric equipment.

With a final rush of steam, the builder arms retracted into the walls.

Clank. Clank clank clank.

From the dense vapor, he strode out. Not the gait of a man, but the scuttling of a great, mechanical scorpion.

Double Tap inched closer to Elster. "...fucking tech priests, I swear..." She looked sideways and said, "No offense, Daisy."

"None taken," Daisy said, walking over to join her family.

Anacharis Scoria raised himself to his full height, a single concession to showmanship. Or perhaps to reacquaint himself with the abeyant so long denied him. Then, approached the replikas.

"My thanks for freeing me," Scoria said, evenly. He nodded to Elster. "I can assure you, you have satisfied your obligation to me, and to the Arkifane."

Elster couldn't resist. She looked to the Soul Count.

Watched it plummet by a greater degree than she'd ever seen. More than she felt possible at any one time. A knot in her chest loosened. Her eyes unfurrowed in relief. For the first time in years, she felt like freeing Ariane might actually be possible.

It didn't make her feel any less empty, however. Nor take away the ash in her mouth.

"...so...how are we getting out?" Double Tap asked, looking back and forth between the two "clients" of the Arkifane. "...do you know secret ways the rest of the Xanians don't know about?"

"Undoubtedly," Scoria said. He inclined his head back fractionally. "But that will not be necessary. I intend to walk out the front entrance."

"Tch," Double Tap said, narrowing her eyes. "You and what army?"

Scoria raised his arms and spread them wide. Stared into space.

Daisy raised her head, pressing fingers to her temple. Feeling a massive dump of data to the Noosphere. Hundreds of commands. Thousands. "Eh?"

Suddenly, the vast room thrummed to life.

Steam gushed from vault doors and tumblers rolled. Doors creaked, and engines were stoked into operation.

Isis flinched, looking around. "Oh...oh empress!" she shuddered, eyes darting around with mounting alarm. "What...what are...?"

"Isis?" Elster said, crouching to stand at eye level with the Kolibri. "What's wrong?" A gear turned in her head. "...what are you sensing?"

"...horrible..." Isis muttered, hugging herself. "Cold and horrible. And filled with...hate..."

The replikas looked around, as vault doors stretching far into the distance opened. From the steam, forms emerged. Massive forms, heavy and metal. They stomped across metal floors, gathered in large numbers.

"...shit..." Double Tap said, head whipping around. "We're surrounded!"

"You needn't worry," Scoria said, unperturbed. "We are, after all, united by common cause, common debt, and common circumstance. You have nothing to fear."

"By the Machine God..." Daisy whispered, backing up into Double Tap. Her eyes darted around, seeking patterns in the silhouettes.

To a degree, they followed some of the designs of known automata models. Castellax, Kastelan, Domitar, Arlatax. floating Vulturax, slithering Scyllax, and scuttling Vorax. Beneath the high ceilings, Thanatar Siege-Engines stomped loudly. While under it all, a seemingly endless swarm of tiny, spider-like automata-forms of more esoteric make flowed between the feet of their larger brethren.

But for every unit that fit standard types, there were more than adhered to no known pattern. Worse, they displayed almost...bestial forms. Claws, talons, spikes, and teeth. In the gloom, some even displayed what might have been...fleshy growths, melded with the metal.

"And in answer to your question..." Scoria said, waving a hand as the things emerged from the fog. "THIS army."

Isis clung to her grandmother, trembling like a leaf. "...n-no...please no!"

Elster's heart sank. A pall of horror fell over her.

In a voice so soft it might not be heard, she breathed, "...daemon engines..."

Chapter 71: The Xanophane Tyrant

Notes:

Now's the best time to link to Part 2 of the Xana Incursion, by Oculus Imperia.

EDIT: The same chronicler's treatise on what is broadly known about the Rangdan Xenocides is probably also relevant here. Albeit nonessential.

"Why did you do it?"

The massive freight elevator rattled as it ascended. Mechanisms groaned, bearing the weight of not one, but two large automata. Not to mention a heavy, scorpion-like abeyant.

Crowded on one end, the replikas huddled next to the repurposed Kastelan. Weary, suspicious, and stained scarlet. Artificial eyes locked on their fellow occupants.

The former Magos Dominus stood in the shadow of his personal Arlatax robot - his "Homonculex" - its twin power blades at rest. The priest's hands were folded at ease in front of him. Torso upright from where it melded with the abeyant's mechanical thorax.

His glowing, augmetic eyes stared unblinking at them. Expression unreadable. "...you will need to be more specific," he said, evenly. His voice tinged by a low, electric whine.

Elster leaned against the Kastelan, hand resting on Hippolyta's head. The replika commander regarded the man gravely. "Why did you make a pact with Vashtorr?"

"It should be self-evident, I think," Scoria said, maintaining a neutral tone. "I was imprisoned. The Arkifane offered liberation. His terms were very fair."

"I suppose that's true," Elster said. She narrowed her eyes. "But I think you're far more aligned to the goals of Vashtorr, above and beyond what's needed to settle your end of the bargain. So I ask again, Skorpionmann. Why make a pact with one of the Ruinous Powers?"

Somewhere, beyond the walls of the elevator shaft, muffled crashes. The discharge of weapons. A loud, animalistic roar.

Isis, sat on the floor, leaned over and hugged Elster. Trembled, mouth quivering.

Scoria stared silently at the replika. "...why did you? If we're divulging such information."

Elster exhaled through her nose, and wrapped a hand around the Kolibri's shoulders. "...much the same as you, as it happens," she said. "My Freundin and I were trapped in a cage made of time. A place that might, perhaps, have been hell. A cycle of pain, suffering, and tragedy. Then, Vashtorr came, offering release. A new life. I'll have her back for good, when I've settled the debt." She inclined her head forward. "Satisfied?"

"Adequately," Scoria said, granting the replika a slight nod. "I wish you good luck in this endeavor."

"Danke schön," Elster said curtly, returning the nod.

The priest turned his head away, staring at the elevator shaft wall as it tumbled down around them. Watching each subterranean level pass by. "As for myself...are you familiar with the Rangdan Xenocides?"

"Ugh," Double Tap groaned, leaning against the guard rail of the elevator. "That again."

Daisy, sitting between the legs of the Kastelan, swallowed. Regarded the Xanian Magos with a mixture of curiosity and dread. "..."

Elster glanced away, then nodded. "Ja. We've heard of it. No one we've talked to seems to know anything about what went on there, though."

"Unsurprising," Scoria said.

"...except," Elster continued, quickly, "that the Forge domain of Xana was involved."

"Indeed," Scoria said. "Xana pledged vast quantities of men, material, and military disposition to the purging of the Rangda." He turned his head fractionally to the replikas. "Myself included."

"I figured as much."

"I pledged my own forces, Taghmata Scoria, to the war effort," the man said. Elster couldn't be sure, but she almost sensed a hint of pride in his words. He inclined his head back, fractionally. "The wars were long, and the fighting...costly. But I'm told my Taghmata accorded itself with the utmost dedication and efficiency."

"...you're told?" Elster muttered under her breath.

"What were they like?" Daisy said, leaning her head forward so she could regard him with upturned eyes. "The Rangda, I mean?"

The Magos stared at the wall. The rattle of the elevator and the distant clash of battle filled the silence.

Finally, he said, "I don't know."

"What?" Double Tap said, squinting at the man. She folded her arms and leaned forward fractionally. "You fought them for years, and you don't know?"

"I don't know, because I can't recall," Scoria said. He turned his head, glowing eyes centering on the Star. "The memories were erased."

Elster raised an eyebrow. "..."

"Erased?" Isis breathed, hugging Elster more closely. "Wh-why?"

"Understand," Scoria said, voice still even and measured, "that the Rangda represented perhaps the greatest existential threat, not merely to the prosecution of the Great Crusade, but to the Imperium and Mechanicum as a whole. A threat so terrible... they were a cognito-hazard."

"Even...knowing about them was dangerous?" Elster said, frowning.

"Or they possessed such weapons as to make information itself a weapon," Scoria said. "I do not know which. Following the extermination of the species, and likely during the fighting as well, a widespread program of censorship, redaction, and memory erasure was implemented. Those of sufficient worth were subjected to the lengthy, protracted process of targeted memory elimination. Those for whom the effort could not be justified - including several million Exertus Imperialis troops, Adsecularis regiments, menials, and civilian adjuncts, including Remembrancers - were injected with memory erasing drugs of...greater potency."

"How potent are we talking?" Double Tap said, raising an eyebrow.

"The drugs erased every shred of memory in the subject's mind, without discrimination," Scoria said. "This also induced permanent brain damage."

"Fuck," Double Tap grunted.

"Though as a positive," Scoria said, nonchalantly, "we returned with a large surplus of new Servitors."

"Fuck!" Double Tap yelled, eyes widening.

"...white mother..." Isis whispered, trembling in horror.

Daisy chewed her thumb, heart racing. "...by the Machine God."

"So in the end, no one was allowed to remember what the Rangdan Xenocides even entailed," Elster said, eager to move on from the horrific implications, if only for her childrens' sake. "Another dark moment of the Great Crusade, buried."

"Correct," Scoria said.

"Verdammt noch mal," Elster breathed, narrowing her eyes.

"...Verdammt noch mal, indeed," Scoria said, nodding fractionally.

"So...what does that have to do with you...pledging to Chaos?" Elster said, raising an eyebrow.

The man looked away again. Indeed, his segmented metal legs clanked on the elevator platform, as he turned his whole body to face the front of the elevator.

"...because while I do not remember specifics," Scoria said, "I remember...bits and pieces. Words. Designations of threats. "Osseivores" and "Cerabvores"..."

"...bone eaters and brain eaters?" Daisy whispered, chewing her thumb.

"...images of terrible creatures, such as the Slaugh murder-minds," Scoria continued, voice lowering, cheek twitching, "man-things made of worms. They followed in the wake of the Rangda, to claim the dead, and the dying. Armies of...slaves...thrown against us again, and again, and again...Titans and Knights in mortal combat with Macrobeasts, battles so terrible the land buckled and the skies turned red..."

Isis curled in on herself. Sweat poured down her face. Before, all she felt was coldness, and leashed malice. Now, she felt his pain. "..."

Elster didn't need to feel his emotions. She could just tell. Scoria wasn't here, in the elevator with them. He was back there, on the front lines. Back there, at the Xenocides. Reliving them. If only in fragments and in his heart.

Perhaps he himself realized he was losing control. He cleared his throat audibly. "...but...what I remember most...was what it felt like. The horror. The pain. The disgust. The betrayal. The paranoia. The...breathless loss of logic and proportion..."

A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

"..."

The replikas stared at the Magos. For the first time, he seemed like a human being.

"...when I returned to Xana, I did so as something...less than I was before," Scoria said, seeming by increments to master himself. The almost imperceptible twitches and hitched breaths subsided. He drew himself up straighter. Voice evened out. "My ordered world of rituals and programmatical analysis seemed...empty. Illogical. For my contributions, the Vodian Consistory granted me the office of Magos in charge of enforcing Machine Cult doctrine." He looked fractionally toward the replikas. "But even as I performed the duties expected of me, my words and deeds felt...hollow. A rote recitation of theology that...no longer spoke to my soul."

He looked up, watching the elevator shaft disappear into the high distance. "...I found myself...for a time...disbelieving in the existence of the Machine God."

Daisy tilted her head. Clutched a hand to her chest.

"An outrageous conclusion, yes," Scoria said, glancing to the Ara. The one he recognized as a believer. "But in that period, troubled by horror and...grief? And without clear memories with which to deconstruct my emotions in a logical framework. I could not square the base irrationalism I felt in the world around me with the tenets of the Machine Cult. When such horrors existed that amnesia was not merely preferable, but the sole practical course for the Imperium and her allies...how could god exist? How could there be any order, or meaning, or higher purpose?"

"You speak of it as something that you felt in the past," Elster said. She inclined her head forward. "You've since changed your mind?"

"Yes," Scoria said.

Above them, a shaft of light appeared against the elevator's far wall. As they rose, the din of battle grew louder and clearer.

The tech priest turned his head forward.

"For you see," he said, the sides of his mouth turning up, ever so slightly, "in my deep, desperate meditations into the higher realms of esoteric geometry and cybertheurgy...I came upon..."

The elevator shaft's front opened up into a line of broad windows. Bathed the occupants in blood-red light.

"...a revelation."

"AAAARGH!"

A man engulfed in flames plummeted past the window, screaming and flailing. Disappeared beneath them.

"...was zum teufel?" Double Tap mumbled, staring wide-eyed out the windows.

"Sweet Empress!" Isis said, hands clasping her cheeks. She started to hyperventilate.

Daisy tucked herself behind her Kastelan's leg, eyes peeking out. She couldn't move. Couldn't look away.

Elster stood up, hugging the Kolibri close to her body. She automatically started stroking the girl's head.

She couldn't stop watching either. She just stared, transfixed in horror.

Götterdämmerung!

The Panopticon rose up before them. Where before it was a site of battle, now it was a massacre.

On each landing, Scoria's automatons - his daemon engines - engaged in pitched combat of a singularly bloody variety. First with beleaguered Forge defenders, then with crowds of escaped prisoners and liberated slaves from above. Wading through curtains of las bolts and solid slugs, heedless of danger. Ripping open cells to corner their cowering, screaming occupants.

They laid into their foes - their victims - not even with the unthinking and unfeeling abandon of a machine, but with a savagery normally restricted to beasts. Their guns ran hot with plasma and phosphor and bolt rounds and autocannon slugs. Their limbs swung power fists and power blades and lightning scourges. They raked flesh with claws and teeth.

One automaton climbed the central pillar, shattering armaglass windows of an observation station and strangling Xanian guards with mechanical tendrils. Another body slipped from the edge, screaming as they plummeted a hundred storeys down.

"..."

Scoria continued speaking. "At first, I simply tapped into secrets of programmatic excellence found in higher, empyrean realms. They were so simple, yet with layers of unseen complexity and nuance. The more I refined these new protocols in my automata, the more I began to see the Truth."

Elster turned her head, trembling, to the man. "...what truth?"

"That what I mistook for an absence of meaning was, in fact, demonstrative of the true meaning," Scoria said. "That the horrors I felt from the Rangdan Xenocides were not aberrations, but rather the world as it really was. That there wasn't an absence of gods, but rather that they were evil. That there was no order, because the nature of the world..." He looked sidelong at Elster. "...is Chaos."

"..." Elster's heart skipped a beat. She stared into those glowing red eyes, and shivered.

Scoria looked back at his handiwork. Eyes studying the manner in which a man was divorced from his guts, in spectacular fashion. His expression was clinical, but the singular focus by which he observed could only be described as "rapt".

"Alas, the Vodian Consistory were...small-minded. They did not understand the depth of this revelation. The sublime elegance. Insisted even my first, stumbling steps into the protocols were unacceptable tech-heresy. Blasphemies against the Machine God." He watched as one of his creations laid into a squad of green-clad Astartes, biting off one's head. Painted the prison walls with scarlet. "They did not see that my automata were merely reflecting the deeper, primordial savagery of existence. Channeling that pure nature of humanity and its works, as reflected in the Warp. So they locked me away, along with all of my creations."

The Star leaned against the railing, bent over. Hand on her mouth. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"Do so, if you wish," Scoria said, nonchalantly. Stared out the windows, the shadows of each windowframe passing over his face. The contours of his cheekbones framed in the dark by the light of his eye lenses. "I would never deny someone their instinct."

"Ngh...nagh!" Isis sobbed, burying her face in Elster's side. "...please...no more..."

Elster shut her eyes, frowning. She turned down to the Kolibri. Interposed herself between the girl and the windows, as if her body could blot out the psychic maelstrom outside. "Shh...shh...Shut it out, baby," she whispered. "Shut it all out. There's nothing for you out there."

Daisy clenched her teeth, forehead buried against the cold metal of the Kastelan's leg. "...it's not fair..." she muttered to herself.

"Naturally," Scoria continued, almost to himself more than anything, "this did not stop me. It could never stop me. If anything, long entombment permitted deeper meditations into the supernal truths of Black Geometry. And in the throes of further revelations...the Arkifane came to me." He turned away from the carnage. Eyes alighting to the replika commander once again, as if he only now remembered her presence. "Have I answered your question?"

Elster inhaled a ragged breath. "...j-ja."

She trembled. Swallowed hard. Turned her head slowly. She forced herself to look. To see...what she unleashed. "...wh-what will you do now?"

Scoria looked back out. "Even now, through the Noosphere, I am taking charge of the leaderless forces stationed here. First, I shall take back Xana-Tisiphone from its invaders. Then...I shall pay the Vodian Consistory a visit. One by one. After all...one of them will have my Sceptre."

"..." At the moment, Elster didn't give a shit about his artifact. She understood the implications of Scoria's words. She looked frightfully at him.

He was going to conquer Xana for himself. Through this, he would undoubtedly pledge Xana's production capabilities - augmented by his Chaos sciences - to the Warmaster. Spreading the scourge of daemon engines to the whole galaxy.

And she, LSTR-512, made that possible.

THIS was why Vashtorr accorded such a high reward for freeing Scoria. THIS was what Elster and her family traveled halfway across the galaxy to set loose. THIS is what Hippolyta died for.

What have I done? Sweet Ariane, what have I done?

As they neared the peak of the Panopticon, a huge chunk of the central pillar broke off and fell past them. Debris rained down with it, to crash somewhere below.

Their eyes shot up. Widened in shock.

Against the glare of huge ceiling lights, metal wings spread wide. A segmented, serpentine tail whipped. Claws dug into crumbling rockcrete of the decapitated observation column.

A long, segmented neck curled up. The crested head of a machine dragon held high, eyes burning with scarlet light. Mouth opened wide, displaying blood-stained teeth of pure metal.

It roared in triumph.

 

WWWWWHHHHRRRRRRR!

Sparks shot to the air as chain teeth bit into hot metal. Tendrils whipped wildly, lashing at ceramite. Steel teeth crunched an augmetic hand.

"RRRAAAAGH!" the automaton roared, spraying pneumatic fluid with its furnace-hot breath at the marine's helmet. Claws scored gouges into ceramite plating.

The marine gritted his teeth. One hand pressed his chainsword into the robot's wiry guts. Electricity arced across his armor with each cable severed. The other hand, his metal one, jammed into the machine's incongruous, gore-stained maw.

In all the ruination of his augmetic limb, all he felt was the phantom pain of the flesh hand he cut away so many years ago.

Judging the limb deep enough, he pulled the trigger on his bolt pistol.

BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.

Explosions detonated from the back of the robot's head, destroying its cogitators and rudimentary brain stem.

Rrnch!

The shock of dying caused the jaw to clamp down like a vice. The robot pulled away, metal ripping and tearing. The sparking stump of the marine's arm came free.

"Nn....NAGH!" he growled, putting all his force into his remaining arm.

SCREEEECH!

Toothed chain sawed through steel cables and wires. The Astartes bathed in coolant as his weapon cut through the machine's belly, sprayed at high pressure from the immense wound.

Weight pitched the automaton back. Its lower half remained standing on thick metal legs, as the top half crashed to the floor.

"...hah...haff...puff..." Anton Weir panted, staring down at the ruined wreck of traitor artifice.

His eyes - natural and augmetic - searched over the battlefield. Saw mounds of baseline humans, cyborgs, wrecked automata, and even other Astartes. Gore-slick metal floors, and piles of severed limbs and heads.

One of his lenses, cracked and scorched, half-blinded him with flickering error messages. In frustration, he planted his chainsword in the machine's body and ripped the helmet off. He gasped, lungs intaking air tainted by smoke, blood, burnt flesh, and industrial fluids.

"Forward! Forward!"

He heard the footfalls of freed slaves and ceramite boots rush past him, to take the bridge. Weir's face twitched. He grimaced, looking down. Studied the ruin of his arm, dangling wires and torn servos. Felt the phantom pain of fingers that tingled and curled.

He gasped, swallowing. Looked away with a grimace. The arm would need replacing, again. But not now. So many traitors, so little time.

"Fan out!" Weir ordered, pointing with his remaining hand. He pulled the chainsword from the machine. "Secure the bridge, before more come!"

Two of his surviving subordinates stepped up behind him, ready to follow.

Weir looked out on the artificial chasm, built deep underground. Part of the forge-prison complex that stretched left and right, up and down. He looked up, seeing the upper reaches disappear into smog and tangles of wires that criss-crossed the span.

Then, his eyes once again looked down at the automaton he just slew.

"...have we tracked the source of the controllers yet?" Weir said, not looking back.

"Negative, sir," one of his marines said. "Some of these machines seem to be receiving commands, yes. But some...it's madness, sir, but many take no direction at all."

"What?" Weir said, turning his head fractionally towards the marine.

"They are acting of their own free will, sir."

"Impossible!" Weir spat. His sneer softened, tinged by doubt. He jerked his face forward again. "Unless..."

He glared at the bisected machine at his feet. Whose coolant dripped off his armor, and which now rested in pools of its victims' blood.

Bile rose in his throat. His brow twitched with phantom pain from the eye he plucked from his own head, during his initiation.

Weir gritted his teeth. "...Silica Animus...Abominable Intelligence..." he seethed. "...how dare they...eh?"

"It may well be, sir," said one of his subordinates. "What shall...?" He grew silent, as the two marines behind their sergeant stared into space, listening. Pressed fingers to their helmets. "..."

Weir didn't notice. His eyes were locked far across the artificial gorge.

Crash.

Doors on the far end violently flung open, from which a half dozen new debased automata spilled out. They assembled, stomping slowly toward the bridge.

At their rear, a figure in a filthy black robe scuttled in their wake on scorpion legs. Tails raised, preparing firing solutions for when their battle would be joined. Glowing red eyes peeked from under a hood. At his side towered an Arlatax, whose power blades thrummed with power. Bathing the surrounding environment with blue light.

Whomever it was, Weir guessed the figure to be another Cybernetica controller, if not a high ranking one. Weir's thumb hovered over the switch for his chainsword, ready to rev.

But what ultimately caught his attention, more than the traitor and his maniple of automatons approaching, were the automaton and figures moving away.

The former Iron Hands marine's eyes widened. "...you..."

Despite the scarlet gore drenching them, there was no mistaking the gray voidsuits. The pilfered las weapons. The...servo skulls made not of bone, but of painted metal. Even their gait, that of hooved figures walking in boots, gave them away.

Replikas, Weir seethed, gritting his teeth. Brows furrowed.

The one bringing up the rear touched a bundle lashed to the hijacked Kastelan's back. Stroked the face of a fallen replika. Her black hair rustled in wind blown by industrial fans.

By chance, or perhaps sensing something, she turned her head. Saw the marines. Saw Weir.

Their eyes met. They stared at one another from across a chasm kilometers deep both up and down.

Anton Weir narrowed his eyes. A rage bubbled up inside. "You."

Elster narrowed her eyes in return.

Abominable Intelligence, Weir thought, breathing hard. I knew it. I knew you couldn't be trusted. And here I see, you consort with traitor scum.

Zap Zap Zap.

Freed prisoners began firing upon the machines crossing the bridge.

"Come, men!" Weir growled, taking a step forward. He revved his chainsword. "To battle!"

He wouldn't let her get away. Not again. Not for a third time.

It wouldn't occur to him until later, when he was ensconced on a lander heading to orbit, that he didn't know why he thought it was their third encounter. That LSTR unit was dead.

"Sir!" one of his subordinates said, clapping a hand on his backpack. "We need to go!"

"No! She's...they're right there!" Weir barked, looking back and forth between his subordinate and the enemies across the way. "We can still catch them!"

"Negative sir!" said the other marine, raising his bolter and providing covering fire. "We've been ordered out!"

Bam. Bam. Bam.

"What?" Weir said, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"They destroyed one of the Ordinatus, sir! The Nepathax!" said the first, pulling on his superior's shoulder pad now. "Harr ordered a full retreat from the planet! We have to go!"

"No! I..." Weir growled, looking back across the chasm.

The shortest replika held back, tugging on Elster's arm. The little one - the KLBR unit - stared directly at Weir, narrowing her eyes. No words were exchanged between the two replikas. The damned machines didn't need to speak.

Every gen-hanced muscle in the Blackshield's body coiled taut. His teeth threatened to shatter, he clenched his jaw so tight.

Elster stared at him, then raised a hand. Her fingers formed shapes slowly, due to damage, but in a sign language she knew he understood.

"[Schwarzchild.]" It was not a question. It was acknowledgment.

"Abominable Intelligence," Weir said, mouthing the phrase so she could see. Though her machine witch would doubtless convey the meaning in any event.

"Sir!" barked his subordinate, pulling on his shoulder harder. "We have to go! Now!"

The automatons would be upon them soon. Their short-ranged weapons already took wide potshots at the baseline humans on the bridge.

"..." Anton Weir swallowed his bile. He turned. "Retreat! Retreat to the landers!" he barked, waving toward passages leading to the surface.

The ragtag human fighters, upon this news, gratefully turned and ran. Only the bravest held back, providing covering fire for the extraction. Some of these men paid dearly, as the machines set upon them with haste. They screamed, as weapons fire torched them and talons raked their flesh.

Weir and his marines marched along with the retreating humans. The other legionaries taking snap shots behind them with their bolters.

As he reached the lip of the passage, he looked back one last time.

Saw the replikas duck into a service tunnel, along with their pilfered, headless Kastelan.

The Blackshield looked away, running into the dimly lit corridors. Winced at the phantom pain in his missing arm.

Mark my words, replika, Weir vowed, gravely, one day, I WILL wipe you and your wretched spawn from existence. I swear it.

 

"Move, move, move!"

Bedraggled menials, prisoners-of-war, and liberated tech-thralls rushed up a gangway to the colossal lander. Sweat and blood tinged the air, as the press of bodies filed up the slope as quickly as they could. Hundreds of meters to the side, another lander touched down, making its fifth evacuation run since the retreat order went out.

Given the sparse personnel at hand, the Cicathrice Tyrannis and her Blackshields could ill afford to leave so many combat-ready figures or laborers behind. Given the conditions they were vacating, the baseline humans didn't argue.

Legionaries armed with bolters stood at either side of the ramp. By their very presence they maintained order, and kept watched against attack by Xanians and their murderous machines.

Hands clutched weapons, while backs carried the weight of bags. Plunder, both mundane and technological, stripped from the prison-forge and surrounding research stations with greedy abandon. Even legionaries hauled equipment or weapons no un-augmented person could carry.

No one, therefore, noticed an auxilia trooper in bedraggled, blood-stained uniform join the fleeing throng. "His" bag laden with experimental equipment, samples, and stacks of research data. Fewer still noticed the forearm-mounted blade tucked under "his" sleeve.

The uniform's former owner wouldn't need it anymore. Though the assassin would be offended to hear accusations she killed him. An abundance of legitimately created corpses littered the planetoid.

Her stolen face darted around, eyes peeled for danger.

In truth, the Callidus assassin could probably have arrived in her synthskin bodysuit, and be allowed on anyway. These Blackshields worked for the Sigilite too. The marines wouldn't dare bar her boarding.

But they'd probably demand her "prizes" be turned over, for their own use. A point she could have contested, given her position in the Officio Assassinorum. But that sounded like a huge hassle. It was easier to simply sneak aboard the Cicathrice Tyrannis, and find a hidden place to stash her loot. Before reappearing before Harr for debriefing.

Plus...it just made her feel naked, walking around without a disguise. In a way being disguised but actually naked never did. Old habits die hard.

Approaching the top of the ramp, she cast one last look over her shoulder. Watched columns of smoke rise. Heard distant screams of dying men, the bark of weapons fire, and the howl of diabolical robots.

More than anything, the Sigilite would need to know of the automata loosed against Xana-Tisiphone. And of their unnatural nature. Terra's already tenuous grasp on the galaxy could ill afford such blasphemies.

But that would come later. Turning away, the assassin left the prison-forge behind. Her work there was done.

 

Vvvrrooom!

The buggy sped out into the gray wastes, beneath the shadow of Xana I hanging in the sky. Against the backdrop of this titanic orb, the spray of lance fire raged. Signs of distant void battles, and the fiery wrecks of Xana's former defense grid.

Stones along the darkened path caused the vehicle to bounce and rock.

Daisy clutched Isis in one arm, the girl's face buried in her chest. The other arm clutched her repair servo-skull, its unfastened hover modules dangling from a scant few wires. She watched the silhouette of the Kastelan, now headless and inoperable, shrink in the distance. Left by the wall of the compound where they effected entrance earlier.

It was too heavy for either the buggy or the shuttle. Daisy didn't argue the point.

Double Tap sat behind the wheel, using Elster's sensory skull to navigate in the dark. They couldn't risk turning on their headlights. She stared stoically at the ground ahead.

In the back, Elster cradled Hippolyta in her arms. Face pressed against her black, matted hair.

The replika commander looked back at the forge-prison. Watched plumes of smoke and fire erupt from manufactora. Prometheum pipelines burst, forming an ever-expanding blaze that would doubtless burn for weeks.

High on the horizon, a metal dragon took perch on a sagging spire. It breathed a gout of flame to the sky, before flying off to harry fleeing landers.

"..." Elster looked back down at her baby girl. Her brave, beautiful baby girl.

She inhaled. Exhaled.

"...no one says a word of what happened here to Diodana," Elster said, flatly. "She can never know...what we unleashed."

Isis and Double Tap glanced back her, before looking away.

Daisy stared at her mother.

Elster looked her in the eyes. "Is that understood, Daisy?"

The Ara swallowed. "..."

"If she finds out what our mission was about," Elster said, inclining her head down while maintaining eye contact, "she won't be able to live with herself. Won't be able to live with what she enabled by helping us. She WILL kill herself, and possibly others. You know that, right?"

"...yes," Daisy said, nodding. A pit formed in her stomach. "I know."

Elster stroked Hippolyta's hair. Kissed her forehead. "...our actions here will doubtless kill countless people in the future," she said, grimly. "I don't want to lose any more."

"What do we tell her, then?" Daisy asked, hand stroking Isis's hair.

"What she needs to know," Elster said, flatly. "That our mission was a success. We broke the prisoner out, and delivered them where they needed to go. Then, we put as many Warp jumps between us and Xana as possible. Whatever Scoria does next, the Forge-domain will be in no condition to strike out anytime soon."

She looked at the Ara. "We tell Diodana nothing, except what she needs to know. For her own good. She doesn't need to know about..." She looked sideways, not turning her head towards the forge-prison. "...that. Am I clear?"

Daisy nodded. "Yes."

"Everyone else got it?" Elster asked.

"Mmhmm," Isis groaned, hugging Daisy. Trying to block out the psychic anguish all around them.

"Yeah," Double Tap said, nodding. Not taking her eyes off the "road".

Daisy looked up at the sky, trying to distract herself from the emotions she felt by looking at the cool voidcraft taking to the heavens.

She vowed never to let her students end up like Xana. Either what Xana was...or what it would soon become.

"..."

Elster bounced in her seat, staring down at Hippolyta. Hugged her body close. Took a sharp breath.

Studied the cold body. Hand rubbed her head.

"..."

Nerves worn down to a nub, exhaustion threatening to overtake her, Elster's thoughts turned...dark.

She kissed Hippolyta's head again. Smiled.

Don't worry, baby. We'll be together again soon.

Chapter 72: Incursion's End

Xana II burned.

Boom.

Gauntleted hand slammed down, fingers driving open a crack in the rockcrete pavement. Heedless of damage to its tearing muscles, the ghola Astartes dragged itself across the ground.

What remained of the entire left side of its body sizzled and smoked. Left arm abandoned on a rubble pile several meters back. Chips of ceramite broke loose as the ragged edge of its broken chestplate scraped against the road. Decaying guts spilled out, unraveling as it pressed forward. Trailing after like the tail of a grisly comet.

It did not care. The thing that once was an Iron Hands legionary did not care.

Boom.

Half its face was torn away, by fire and munitions. It gritted its teeth, though not in pain. It didn't feel it. Or rather, did not feel anything but the phantom pain.

The phantom pain of limbs lost. Of father and brothers lost. A life lost. The terrible ache of having once been a man. (Or, at least, a boy-turned-weapon that clung to the fiction he was a man. Despite his manhood, in every sense of the word, having been taken from him).

It didn't remember its stolen manhood. Did not remember the promise of the Imperium or the Great Crusade. Did not remember its own name. Nor the face of its mother. Nor the smell of warm bread. All of these, lost, somewhere in the grave.

Boom.

But it remembered what was done to it. The massacre. The betrayal. The base perfidy.

And it remembered how to Hate. THAT burned in its chest and in faded neurons yet.

Boom.

The ghola Astartes - the dead thing that was once a son of Ferrus Manus, once a marine in the Emperor of Mankind's inexhaustible Legions - could do little now. Broken, like a child's toy. But it could still HATE. And that Hate propelled it forward.

It didn't know where or who it was. Nor who it was fighting. But its brother assured it, they were Traitors. That was all it needed to know.

Boom.

A shadow fell across the shattered legionaire's body.

The revenent paused. Shakily, its neck creaked back. One functional, dead eye looked up.

It smiled. Or at least appeared to, its jaw half exposed. It dragged itself another step further. If its foe came to it, who was it to argue?

Another traitor to feel its Hate. Another-

CRUNCH.

"..."

The Knight Magaera of House Malinax towered over a thoroughfare wrecked by intense fighting. Ruined buildings and shattered war machines belched smoke to the sky. The street was clogged by bodies.

A colossal foot lifted again, stepped back. From the cameras mounted on the skull-faced head adornment, the pilot studied the squished remains pooling in its footstep.

Another space marine, remanded back to the grave.

"And stay down," the pilot panted, one eye swollen shut and leaking blood down his chin, "you bastard."

Slowly, he panned his camera across the street with mounting dismay. Looked forlornly at other Knight engines that littered the impromptu battlefield. His brothers, cousins, uncles, and nephews. Sons. The defense of Setna Forge claimed so many of them. It would take years to train new pilots, let alone construct or repair new suits.

No one could replace his family.

Mere minutes ago, news came through the vox. The Taghmata of Escorial Forge were yet embroiled in protracted purgation operations, deep in their warren of subterranean tunnels. Their foes boxed in, but the killing slow. And Tephra...

Hours passed when last word arrived from Tephra Forge. Save those on the outskirts, reporting radiation at levels lethal even for the Mechanicum.

The day was won. Xana II was safe. But the cost...

The Knight pilot of sinister Malinax buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

 

"Whaaagh!"

Refrigerators and other cold storage units crowded the back of the room. Salvaged over years and moved "upstairs", in case the Nomarch's biological reserves needed to be evacuated. For the moment, they stored cold drinks and a cache of spare organs for the team. Not that these were much use now.

A gray voidsuit lay in tatters on the floor. Cut away to extract its occupant. They had no shortage of spare suits. She wouldn't need it, anytime soon.

Pneumatics lowered the lid of the pod. At the push of a button, automated sequences fired up. Filled the cryo pod with ice-cold fluid.

Replikas stood around, stared bleakly at the glass coffin encasing the Storch.

"...hugh...aaah!"

Sally buried her face in Elster's chest, crying. "...why?" she sobbed, hugging her mother tight. "Why does this...gah...keep happening? Hic...is it me!? Am I jinxed!?"

"Shh, shh," Elster whispered, stroking the Eule's hair. "Don't say that. You're not jinxed."

"She's right, Sally," Daisy said, hand resting on the cryo pod's controls. She looked away from the pod, and at Sally. "That's just Confirmation Bias talking. You've flown countless missions, and no one died. It only seems like a pattern, because you're forgetting all the successful flights."

"Don't try to rationalize, Dais," Double Tap mumbled, leaning over the pod. She stared at Hippolyta's face, now blessedly cleaned of scarlet fluid. "No one's in the mood."

The Ara looked at the Star, opening her mouth to speak. Then, thought better of arguing. She looked at the floor, frowning. "..."

Double Tap pressed her fingers to the glass, mouth screwing up. Then, she turned around and sat on the flood against the pod. "...fuck..." the Star breathed, pressing a hand to her face. "...dammit..."

Isis sat next to her, legs tucked against her chest. Face buried in her knees. "...hic...Hip..."

Double Tap looked sideways, then hugged the Kolibri with one arm. "...I know..." she mumbled, voice hitching, "...I know..."

Elster continued hugging Sally. Massaging the weeping woman's back.

Her eyes stared at the pod. At the face of her daughter through the window.

"..."

She felt the twinge of thought at the periphery of her perception.

"...don't you say it," Elster whispered, with a knife edge to her voice. "Don't."

What? thought the daemon. I wasn't going to.

"Just...fly us back to the Nomarch," Elster breathed. "Now."

Okay..., Mik'hul thought. ...but just as a reminder...this IS a fixable problem.

Sally flinched, hand curling against the back of Elster's voidsuit. Then, she buried her face deeper. "..."

Elster glared into empty space. "..."

She gave a small smile.

Don't worry, Elster thought, I know it is.

 

Xana I's local volume burned.

One by one, the ships bedeviling the gas giant and its subordinate bodies peeled away.

The Penrose 313 momentarily drew close enough to the Cicathrice Tyrannis to appear as a blip on their radars. Sensorium servitors flagged the anomaly. By the time a baseline human with enough independence of thought checked the data, the mystery craft disappeared. Slipped out of optimal range to pierce the archeotech baffle exuded by the tiny ship.

A single, grainy pict capture, saved and examined. An Astartes officer waved over. As the craft possessed next to no weapons of even passing note, and was not of even remotely Mechanicum design, it was dismissed. Coordinating the evacuation of personnel from Xana-Tisiphone judged more immediately pressing.

By the time the last lander was withdrawn to the Cicathrice Tyrannis, the mystery vessel was forgotten. Its single pict capture filed away to the ship's database, buried under thousands more as part of the Blackshields' body of intel about the Forge-domain. To be supplied to Terra and her allies, once rendezvous was made with other Loyalist forces.

Such was the logistical process of evacuation, Sergeant Anton Weir didn't even reach the ship before the Penrose disappeared.

Deep in the holds of the Blackshield vessel, the Callidus assassin busied herself stowing her prizes in a shadowed nook, overhanging a trio of utility pipes running along the ceiling of a disused corridor. Whistling softly to herself, in the guise of a menial.

It would only be later, when she overheard talk of a mysterious controller of the bestial automata, that she cursed herself for not eliminating what was, in dire retrospect, another high value target. For the moment, though, she was content to secure her findings for delivery to the Sigilite.

The Cicathrice Tyrannis picked up another "blip", this time on sensors detecting Warp gates opening. Bridge crew were so busy scanning for larger vessels inbound, possible reinforcements for Xana appearing from out of system, they didn't notice the Penrose 313 slip into a tiny hole in reality. The crystal-filled gate closed behind them.

On the other side of Xana I, the Dark Sovereign took superficial damage while annihilating the last meager defense ship the Xanians had on hand. The Dark Angels studied long-range sensorium suites, noting the Cicathrice Tyrannis slip away from Xana-Tisiphone. As well as a collection of Xanian vessels on the edge of system, making full burn for Xana I.

There was no reason for the First Legion detachment to remain. They already had their prize.

Both Loyalist capital ships sped from the orbital volume, making for the nearest Mandeville Points. The alien, crystaline Mu-571 trailed behind the Dark Angels vessel. What crew remained slaved to their new masters.

Far on the system's edge, the Praetorian's retribution fleet watched the retreating Xanian defense vessels. Long-range scanners showed them the Astartes vessels leaving Xana I's orbit. And the utter devastation done to Xana's collection of transport barks.

Heavily damaged, ammo spent, and exhausted from hours of fighting, the Gloriana Class Battleship Amphion and her surviving escorts performed what rescue operations they could in the field of wrecked ships. Loading crew quarters with stranded personnel, and the prison-holds with captives awaiting interrogation.

The Amphion's commanders judged that retribution was adequately meted out to the traitor Forge. Terra and her Praetorian had made their point. There was little more to accomplish, without risking a second protracted battle around Xana I.

Just as sensors picked up the readings of two Warp exits near the gas giant, the retribution fleet turned around and powered up their own Warp drives.

Reduced to a bare fraction of its starting disposition, the Xanian fleet limped to Xana I just in time to do absolutely nothing.

Hours later, Xana II was embroiled in war again. This time, against itself.

 

"Please! Stop! Have mercy!"

Ceilings festooned with wires, pipes, and screens hung tall above a charnel house. Blood, coolant, and oil soaked between metal grates and cables. Leaked from Adsecularis guards, servitors, and subordinate tech priests littering the floor.

Metal feet stomped these cadavers underfoot, as a crowd of belligerent magi and their personal fighters crowded around the central dais. Around the trembling form of the last of their former lords.

"Dereliction of duty!" shouted one of the magi. "Duty to us, who swore fealty!"

"You ignored processes and safety procedures made perfect centuries ago!" barked another, shaking a fist.

"Your obligation was to keep us safe! You and the rest of the Consistory!" chided yet another.

"H-have we not done so?" the Vodian archmagos of Setna Forge stuttered, through respirator broken by a blow to the face. Indescribable green fluid leaked from his broken eye lens. "The Vodian Consistory has protected Xana for thousands of years! I have protected it! This is treason! This is madness!"

"Madness is the state you've left Xana in, thanks to your ineptitude!" said the fleet controller, pointing a metal finger. "Thanks to your useless withdrawal order, our naval assets and system defense automata are reduced to a mere third!"

"And our Knight suits to half!" barked the Patriarch of House Malinax, his white beard hanging a meter down from the tangle of wires and eye lenses that covered his upper face. "I lost eight of my own sons defending YOUR Forge! Eight! And a score of my grandchildren, nieces, nephews...!"

"Count yourself lucky," said a Magos Genetor of Tephra Forge. The half of her wrinkled face visible beneath a metal plate scowled and spat at the Archmagos. "Nearly my entire line was severed when those monsters breached three of our reactors! I would hardly have a lineage left, were some of my spawn not on far-flung fanes on the edge of the system! Tephra, my home, will never recover from this disaster! How dare you let this happen, you bastard!"

"It w-wasn't my fault!" the Setna Archmagos whimpered, waving his sceptre around frantically. "How was I to know the Sons of Horus were false!? Let alone they would reanimate the dead!?"

"We can't even study their remains, you old fool!" cried a magos, leaning on an ornate cane. He gesticulated wildly. "We had to break them down to their component parts just to get them to stop! They're useless to us now!"

"And what of the Ordinatus Ulators?" barked a magos. "Each a product of years! One destroyed, two more stolen! The Warmaster will be furious to learn YOU lost them! Xana will bear the brunt of his displeasure!"

"We can't come crawling back to the Emperor now, either!" said a Magos Dominus from Escorial Forge. "If they don't intend to send another retribution fleet soon, they will eventually!"

"And what of Mu-571!?"

"No one cares!"

Clank. Clank. Clank.

"Enough."

The magi turned, then parted quickly. A chill ran down their spines, real and mechanical.

"Y-you!?" cried the Archmagos. He threw his arms in front of him. "N-no! It cannot be!"

Insectile legs of metal clanked across the gore-spattered ground of the Vodian master's personal chambers. A set of three guns, on the ends of a scorpion tail, trained on the Archmagos.

Two eyes glowed red from beneath a tattered, stained hood. The expression on the magos's face icy. He scaled the steel steps, until he towered over his former master.

"S-S-Scoria!" the Archmagos gasped, shrinking down in his dais. If he were not physically installed in the seat by his torso, he would have fled. "Get him away, you fools! Don't you know what he'll do!?"

"They are perfectly cognizant of what I have already done," Scoria said, evenly. "While the ineptitude of yourself and your fellow councilers brought so much ruin on Xana, MY efforts reclaimed Xana-Tisiphone. Every other of our assailants left of their own accord. I REPELLED mine. And AFTER fighting my way out of prison, no less."

Panting, trembling, the Archmagos found a hidden reserve of nerve. "...you were p-placed in prison for the good of Xana!" he barked, pointing the sceptre at the fallen Magister. "Your work was blasphemy!" He looked around at the crowd huddled behind Scoria. "Don't you all understand what a terrible mistake it is, to follow him! Scoria will be the TRUE death of Xana!"

The magi looked warily at the man to which they presently aligned. Remembered well the unique savagery with which the former Magos Dominus prosecuted their revolt. The savagery of the creations he brought up with him from the depths of Sheaol penitentiary.

"..."

Scoria stared at the Archmagos, unblinking. "...do you know what truly offended me, old friend?" he said, calmly.

The Archmagos flinched back, unable to look the man in the red, glowing eyes. "...w-what?"

"It wasn't my imprisonment, inconvenient though it was," Scoria said. "I will not begrudge you the instinct to fear the unknown and untested. To cling to the familiar religion. And I know my work speaks for itself." He inclined his head up fractionally. "No...no, it is the singular wastefulness of your actions, and that of the Consistory, that offend me. I saw the killing fields of Xana-Tisiphone. Saw how many were sacrificed to your little 'demonstration'."

The Archmagos trembled again. "..."

"It disgusted me," Scoria continued, inclining his head forward. His expression didn't change from cold neutrality. But he allowed an edge to enter his voice. "If you're going to spend so many lives...the least you could do is spend them productively." He took another step forward. "A mistake I will not be making, as Xana's new ruler..."

"W-wait! Stop!" the Archmagos cried, throwing his hands up. With a trembling movement, he thumbed a switch on the sceptre. It thrummed to life, wreathed in black, entropic energy. He swiped at the air in front of him. "Stay back! I'm warning you!"

"...but for that to happen," Scoria continued, as if his former master had said nothing, "you must, of course, be removed. It is the will of Xana." He approached close enough that his chest was just beyond the reached of the swiping archeotech weapon. "Besides..."

Waiting until the opportune moment, Scoria reached forth with the scorpion claw of his abeyant. Clamping down on the forearm of the frightened Archmagos as he made a backswing.

"Ah!" the Archmagos cried, looking with alarm at the metal claw locking his arm in place. Then, he recoiled, as the fallen Magister leaned in.

Scoria stopped when their faces were centimeters apart. Tilting his head to the side. Lowered his voice."...this sceptre doesn't belong to you."

WRENCH!

"AAAARRRGGGHHH!"

Magi filling the room recoiled in horror, as they watched Scoria's claw rip the Archmagos's arm from its socket. Wires snapped, the back wall painted scarlet.

"Ah! Ah!" the last of the Vodian Consistory screamed, clutching his sparking shoulder. Blood and coolant shooting from the hole. He winced, shrinking in on himself in pain. "Nngh! Argh!"

The black energy deactivated shortly after the arm's removal. Scoria, in turn, removed the arm from the sceptre. Allowed the severed limb to flop uselessly to the floor. "Hmm...yes..."

Both hands caressed the long metal shaft, its head tipped in a bident, like a huge tuning fork. He raised the Vodian Sceptre high with one hand. Pointed to the ceiling. "At last...my arm is complete again!"

"..."

The Archmagos sniffed and shook violently, daring to look at Scoria. "...p-please...please, Anacharis..." he whimpered, extending a blood-slick hand. "H-have mercy! I-I-I beg you!"

"Oh...oh, Dieter," Scoria breathed, shaking his head. He held his scepter with both hands, and leaned forward. "Do not waste your or my time begging. I have no patience for it." He raised himself tall. "It won't help you anyway."

"...please!" Dieter wheezed, a tear forming in what remained of his eye for the first time in five hundred years. "...Anacharis!"

The fallen Magister pointed the bident tip at the poor man. "But by all means, old friend," Scoria said, "scream as much as you like. I would never deny a person their instinct."

"Wait, wait, n-no! NO!" Dieter screamed, watching the scepter thrum to life. Threw his remaining arm out in front of him. "ANACHARIS! ANACHAR-!"

And scream the Archmagos did, as Scoria plunged the sceptre into the heart of his old colleague.

"AAAAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAGH! AH AH AAAAAGH!"

The magi in the room shrank on themselves, hearing the blood-curdling screams of their former master. Watched his body wreathed in black, entropic energy. Watched what remained of his flesh wither, his robes fray to thread, and his metal rust.

Ten millennia of time, poured into the man all at once. He screamed until his lungs dissolved and his tongue shriveled to nothing.

When Scoria pulled his rod of office away, the last of the Vodian Consistory collapsed back. Flesh, cloth, and metal turned to dust as it hit the dais.

"..."

One by one, eyes rose from the pile to the man on the scorpion abeyant.

Anacharis Scoria turned, holding his sceptre aloft. Regarded his new subjects. Regarded his new domain.

Xana. First of the Hell Forges.

The Xanophane Tyrant permitted himself a small smile.

"Now...the Great Work begins."

 

Hssss.

Hooves tread lightly on the grated floor. Safety lights lit the corridor. Piles of containers shoved against walls cast long shadows. The air was chill, a few degrees colder, owed to the programmed day/night cycle.

Sally flinched, pressing a fist against her chest. She looked over her shoulder, watching the door to the cockpit slide closed behind her. Heart racing from the noise.

She looked around fretfully, then continued walking. Quiet as possible.

Hssss.

The Eule passed down the length of the ship. Lingered near the ladder to the lower level, ear turned. She assumed Elster retired to her calibration pod. The mission had been long, and Sally's mother hadn't slept at all beforehand.

Sally swallowed, and pressed on. She hoped Elster slept. There wouldn't be a better opportunity.

Not to do what she planned to do. Her mother wouldn't approve.

Mrrrr.

She froze, ears perked up. She hugged herself, and kept walking. The walls beyond the Penrose 313 howled with unnatural sounds. The roar of ethereal wind. The crackle of cold fire. Whispers.

Was this what the Kolibris heard all the time? Sally shook her head, and pressed on.

Hssss.

Behind the door to the crew quarters, muffled sobs. Sally slowly crept over, and pressed ear to the door. Thankfully, automatic opening was deactivated.

It wasn't Isis crying.

"...nnghh!" Double Tap whined, the sound muffled by a layer of metal. "...please...forgive me...Hip!"

"Shh...shh..." Isis whispered. "...it's alright...get some sleep..."

"...hic...ngh..."

Sally clapped a hand over her mouth, suppressing tears. She waited until the sounds died down, then carefully crept to the door opposite Personnel.

Hssss.

"...well, well, well..."

"Shh!" Sally said, pressing a finger to her lips. She crept quickly and quietly inside, before tapping a button next to the door. It slid shut. "We don't want to wake them."

"I guess we don't," Mik'hul said, lowering his voice. Despite his attention, there was none of the 'used car salesman' energy about him. "You sure you want to go through with this, girlie?"

The Eule rubbed her nose, sniffing. She swallowed. "Mmhmm..." she nodded, rubbing her hands together. "I need to do this now, so I can bring Hip back before we arrive..."

And before I lose my nerve, she thought, chewing her lower lip.

"..." Mik'hul regarded the Eule with many eyes. "...yeah..."

Sally stepped gingerly over a tangle of wires and cables running across the reactor room floor. She leaned on the bootstrapped cloaking device. "W-well..." she said, staring at the floor. She took a ragged breath, and her eyes looked up. "...are we doing this or not?"

Mik'hul exhaled. "...don't get me wrong, kid. I'd LOVE to pull a contract out and do the whole song and dance. But..."

Hssss.

Sally flinched.

"...I'm afraid the boss won't allow it," Mik'hul said, huffing dejectedly.

"Sally."

The Eule turned around. "...m-mom..."

Elster stood at the doorway to medical, arms crossed. She exhaled, then stepped forward.

Tears broke out in Sally's eyes. She stepped forward and hugged her mother. "Ngh! Mom!" she sobbed, "Please! I need to..."

"Shh, shh," Elster said, rubbed the girl's back. "Enough of that."

"...haff..." Sally gasped, burying her face in Elster's neck. "...I'm sorry, I...I just...I feel like I...I have to do something! I can't...let Circe see..."

"It's alright..." Elster said, stroking Sally's hair. "...it's alright...I forgive you..."

"It's not alright," Sally whimpered, sniffing. "I'm cursed!"

"You're not," Elster cooed, pressing her cheek to the top of Sally's head. "You're not to blame. No one here is. If you need to blame anyone, blame the guy who sent the robots after us. You don't need to pay the price for that."

"Ngh...hic...Hip..."

"Shh, shh," Elster cooed, rocking her daughter back and forth.

"..."

The two stood in the doorway, in front of the machine dominating the room, hooves amid a tangle of wires. They swayed, like a slow, sad dance.

"..."

Mik'hul gave them a moment, then cleared his throat. "...boss...you know this is just going to keep happening."

Elster kissed the Eule's forehead, then looked up. "..."

"You're in a war, boss," the daemon said. His voice was low and slow. An unassuming person might mistake his tone for genuine empathy. Those who knew Mik'hul understood it was a bit of manipulation. Still, the act was rock solid. "You're going to keep losing kids. They won't all be pretty, and it won't all be piecemeal. Sooner or later, death is going to come for them all."

The replika mother shut her eyes. "...I know."

"You've made your opinions clear, I know," Mik'hul said. "But what I'm offering is no mean thing. If you want to hang onto your kids, I can make that happen. We can even negotiate on the price. My man Tzeentch has lots of jobs he'd just love you to do. You know, since you're going around the galaxy and all..."

"That...won't be necessary."

"Eh?"

Sally looked up, tears pouring down her face. "...mom?"

Elster...smiled.

"...what's with that face, boss?" Mik'hul said, sweat breaking out on his many fleshy folds. Though, by the way he squinted, it was clear he was already putting two and two together. "...no...you're not..."

A hand rose, thumbing tears from Sally's cheek.

"...Sally," Elster cooed, looking down warmly. Dark bags under her eyes. She really hadn't slept at all. "We don't need any new magic to bring Hippolyta back. We have everything we need already."

"...what?" Sally breathed, puffy eyes widening. "W-what do you mean?"

Mik'hul sighed. "...and here I thought you were clever." He waved a tongue toward the pair. "Both of you."

Elster shut her eyes, smiling. Then brushed a lock of hair out of her daughter's face. "Sweetie...we're replikas. Bringing back the dead is our stock in trade. It's how we exist in the first place."

Sally shivered, pupils dilating. "...wait...you mean...?"

Nod. "It's why it was so important to get Hippolyta in the cryo pod," Elster said, almost serene in her expression. "We need to keep her brain preserved, for when we get back."

The Eule took a shuddering breath. She looked down and pressed herself close. Stared into Elster's neck, with a mounting sense of dread.

"So don't you worry, baby," Elster said, stroking Sally's hair.

She smiled and narrowed her eyes triumphantly at the daemon.

"We'll get Hippolyta's neural pattern in a new body very soon. And then we'll all be together again..."

Chapter 73: Learning To Let Go

"Hip! HIP!"

Gurney wheels rattled on metal floors. Thrusters still warm from space flight, the shuttle sat in the back of the bay. Simpler than trying to lower the body down the ladder from the Penrose directly.

Frantic hoofsteps echoed through the chamber, as the Kolibri ran in at full speed.

"NO!" Circe cried, throwing herself onto the still frozen body beneath a shroud. Buried her face in the collapsed chest, sobbing. "No, no, no!"

The bedraggled team looked down at the stricken widow, hearts breaking.

"...Circe..." Elster breathed, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Mom!"

Circe's other children followed swiftly. Crowding around their mother. Looked forlornly at the hidden body.

Shahrazad met Isis's eyes. They frowned, then hugged one another.

"...hah..." Isis gasped, burying her face in Shahrazad's long hair. "...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

"Shh...shh..." Shahrazad cooed, patting her elder sister's head.

"I tried!" Isis sobbed, fingers curling around a curly lock. "I really did. But I...I couldn't do anything...!"

"I know," Shahrazad whispered, her voice hitching. "You...you did all you could..."

"And what were YOU doing!?"

Long strides. Furious anger. A clenched fist.

"...Art..." Elster whispered. Her eyes widened, as a fist flew toward her face.

Smack!

The replika commander fell over, clutching her nose. "...fuck..." she grunted, in a nasally voice.

"Artemis!" Double Tap shouted, rushing over. "Stop!"

"Shut up!" Artemis barked, shoving the Star against a wall. She grabbed the front of the scarlet-spattered voidsuit. Teeth gritted. Glaring into D.T.'s eyes. "What were EITHER of you doing!? How could you let this happen!?"

"Art!" cried Ishtar, rushing over. She placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Stop!"

"Yeah!" shouted Dash, as she and Kite ran over.

"Get off me!" Artemis barked, her arms seized from behind. She struggled to press forward, panting. Kicking the air with her long legs. "You daughter of a bastard! How could you!?"

Double Tap stared at the Storch, wide-eyed. Her face contorted in pain, as she leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. "...I..."

"How...hagh...how could..."

Artemis, feebly struggling against the arms holding her, broke down. Tears rolled down her face. "...how could you...?" She sobbed, shutting her eyes. "How could you...take Big Sis away from me!?"

"...Art..." Double Tap breathed, frowning.

Her holders helped Artemis sink to the ground gently. Hugged her from all sides, as she buried her face in her hands and whimpered. "...Hip...haah...what...am I going to do...now...?"

Elster, a tear forming in her eye, snapped her bleeding nose back into place. "...ow, ow, ow..." She looked over, and crawled to the Storch.

"You're a bitch!" Artemis wheezed, pressing her forehead against Elster's, as mother embraced daughter.

"...Sally?"

The Eule, hugging herself, walked forward to the Ara. "...Myrtle..."

Raising her goggles, Myrtle forced a frown. "...it's...not your fault..."

"Oh Myrtle!" Sally cried, hugging her girlfriend. "...it keeps happening!"

"Not your fault, not your fault," Myrtle whispered, repeating it over and over as she hugged Sally.

Walking out behind her, Rue ignored everyone else. She walked to her mother.

Circe wouldn't stop crying. When she felt Rue lean over and hug her from behind, she sniffed. "...baby..."

Rue stroked her mother's hair. Reached out with her mind.

It's...okay to cry, mommy...

"...ah!" Circe sobbed. She forced herself up and hugged Rue, burying her face in the Ara's neck. One hand never left Hippolyta's side.

The shuttle bay resounded with the sounds of weeping. Of wailing and gnashing of teeth.

 

"I knew it...the moment it happened, I knew..."

Circe sniffed, face pressed against Isis's neck. She turned her head, staring at the form under the shroud. "...I felt it. I felt my heart break!" Her voice cracked. "Oh Hip!"

"I'm sorry, mom," Isis whimpered, patting Circe's back. "I couldn't..."

Circe rubbed tears from her eyes. "...it's...not your..."

Damn her for a terrible mother, she didn't know how much she believed that.

Instead of touching such a...raw subject, she reached a hand out. "Please...I need to see..."

Daisy looked back, from watching the retreating crowd of distraught replikas. "...is that wise?" she asked. "It will hurt more."

"I don't want to see," Circe growled, sniffing. "I need to!"

Elster walked over, nodding. Brushed oxidizing fluid from her lip. "Alright," she said, reaching out. She pulled back the edge of the shroud.

Circe gasped, face contorting in pain. "...oh, Hip!" she sobbed.

Ice clung to the Storch's lips, cheek, and eyelashes. Dried oxident remained in specks and stains, where they were inadequately cleaned. Lacerations on the right side of her face.

She looked serene. Almost...happy.

Her lover touched a trembling hand to the cold cheek. Flinched, from the chill. Circe's breath hitched. She drew closer, and cupped hands on both cheeks. "...so cold..." she whispered, sniffing.

It was pain, reaching out to touch a face bereft of the warmth to which she was so accustomed. It was agony, calling out to a shell whose mind would not answer.

"...I'm so sorry, Circe," Elster said, soberly She touched her nose again, wincing in pain. "...there was...nothing we could do..."

"D-did she suffer?" Circe breathed, swallowing. Before Elster could give a comforting lie, she turned her head fractionally. "Daisy. Did she suffer?"

"...yes," Daisy said, nodding. "It was a violent death, and she suffered considerable internal trauma."

"Isis," Circe breathed, turning her head the other way. "Show me."

"...n-no," Isis said, hugging herself. "I won't. It'll just hurt you more, to see." She rubbed her face with her hand. "Me seeing it is bad enough."

"We gave her an injection," Daisy said, leaning forward. "It...obviously didn't save her. But it probably dulled her pain."

"It did!" Isis said, nodding furiously. She reached out and gingerly touched Circe's shoulder.

Circe's lower lip quivered, as she placed a now cold hand on Isis's own. "...Isis...at least...show me her last moments...please..."

Isis nodded. The two Kolibri hugged, pressing foreheads together.

"..."

Circe sobbed. "...Hip..."

Elster and Daisy watched the two, as they shared the most painful moment of their lives.

"..."

Clank. Clank. Clank.

"...Apologies for the interruption."

The replikas looked to the door of the shuttle bay. Watched the red-robed figure amble forward, metal hands clasped behind her back.

"Teacher," Daisy said, nodding.

"Daisy," Diodana said, voice even and serious through her respirator. She nodded to Elster. "LSTR-512." She looked down at the Storch through four photo-receptors. "...STCR-N0601."

"...please..." Circe sobbed, looking over her shoulder. "...just...call her Hippolyta, for once in your damn life." She sniffed, frowning.

"...apologies," Diodana said, turning to the Kolibris. "Hippolyta."

"..." Elster looked at the tech priest. "...I presume you had the same thought I did?"

"I believe so," Diodana said, nodding. She held a metal hand out sideways, gesturing to the corridor behind. "The machine is ready."

"Good," Elster said, nodding. "Thank you."

Daisy sighed, combing fingers through her hair. "...so we're really doing it." She shook her head, walking to stand behind the gurney, ready to push.

"Eh?" Circe said, looking between the others. "What...what are we doing? What's this about a machine?"

Isis covered her mouth, and stepped back. Averted her eyes.

Daisy looked sharply away. Stared down at the outline of Hippolyta's hooves beneath the sheet.

"...what's going on?" Circe said, more forcefully. "Tell me!"

Elster walked around the gurney and placed her hands gently on Circe's shoulders. "...I...wish you hadn't been here. This would be easier, if it was already underway."

"What?" Circe said, leaning into Elster's hands. "What are you...hey!"

She watched as Daisy pushed the gurney toward the corridor. Watched as Diodana followed her.

"Where are...where are you taking her?" Circe said, frantically. She tried to follow, but Elster held her fast. "Let me go! I have to-"

"Circe. Listen to me."

The Kolibri looked fearfully over her shoulder, as her lover was taken away. She looked up at her mother. "...Elster...what are you doing to my girlfriend?" she breathed.

Inhale. Exhale. Elster crouched down, so the two could look eye to eye. "...Circe...I don't want to lose Hippolyta any more than you do."

She...smiled. "So we're not going to."

The Kolibri's eyes widened. "...what are you...?" Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes widened still fractionally more. "...you're not..."

"I am." Elster nodded.

"You can't!" Circe barked, clapping cold hands on Elster's forearms. "You can't just...cut open Hip's brain and take her neural pattern! That's...that's sick!"

"It's no different than every other time a replika has been made," Elster said, shaking her head.

"It wasn't right when the Nation did it!" Circe scowled, color rising to her face. "She didn't ask for-"

"And I didn't ask for my daughter to be taken from me!" Elster said, frowning. She inhaled. Exhaled. "...you wouldn't have had Hippolyta in the first place, if it hadn't been done. I wouldn't have any of you. It's. Fine."

"But you're not going to make her forget, are you?" Circe said, recoiling in horror. "You want her back as she was?"

"Of course," Elster said, nodding. "There's no point, if she doesn't remember."

"But what if she freaks out?" Circe said, beginning to hyperventilate. "What if...hah hah...she's traumatized by the memory of dying?"

Isis hugged her mother from behind. "Mom, calm down. It's not..."

"Hippolyta having an adverse reaction is...unavoidable," Elster said, closing her eyes. Squeezed her trembling girl's shoulders protectively. "We can't expect her not to. But it's fine." She opened her eyes and nodded. "Hip's a tough girl. Strong. And we'll all be there to...welcome her back. Won't we?"

"...but..." Circe frowned, looking at the ground. Pressed a hand to her face. "...b-but...she wasn't frozen immediately! What if not all of her memories can be preserved? What if she forgets a whole lot? Or-or-or she loses some of her skills, like the ability to fight! Or talk! What if..."

"It's. Fine." Elster squeezed Circe's shoulders again. Stared the Kolibri deep in the eyes. "If there's...gaps..." she said, nodding quickly, "...we'll...just have to deal with it. With enough time, with enough...help, from all of us...she'll remember. And we will help her...right?"

"..."

Circe took a ragged breath. "...I don't...know if I..."

She squeaked, as Elster clapped her hands around her cheeks. "..."

Elster got closer. "Circe. I am not going to lose one of my children. Not from some...freak accident with a goddamn robot." She maintained a serious expression. Inclined her head back fractionally. "I'm certainly not going to trade one of their souls away, on a crooked bargain with a daemon. Not. Again. Never. Again."

Isis stepped away, hugging herself.

Circe swallowed. "...mom..."

"..." Elster forced herself to smile again. "...don't worry about a thing. We will bring Hippolyta back. And then we can all be together. Forever." She nodded with each syllable. "Don't you want her back, Circe?"

The Kolibri stared at her mother. Saw the black bags under the woman's eyes. The almost...hysterical energy.

Had Elster not slept at all since they set out for the mission?

"...well?" Elster said, inclining her head forward. The giddy smile still on her face. "Do you?"

Reluctantly, Circe pressed both hands to her heart. "...y-yes..." she breathed, her face on the verge of tears again. "I do." Sniff. Her voice cracked. "I want her back so bad."

"Good," Elster cooed, shutting her eyes and nodding. She leaning forward and kissed her baby on the forehead. Mussed her wild hair. "Then just...wait in the lounge. Daisy and Rose and Heidi and I will see it through. We've already got the organs in storage, and a brain prepped. We even might be able to get her old chassis up and running, if we can massage her existing tissues back to life. Or we'll just use a spare." She stood up straight. Tapped the girl affectionately on the nose. "Just...you...wait..."

Isis stepped back over and hugged her mother, as Elster backed up to the doorway to the corridor.

"...before you go to bed tonight," Elster said, wagging her finger and turning, "Hippolyta will be right there to join you. Mark my words."

Circe hugged her daughter. Stared at her mother's retreating figure.

She didn't need telepathy to know they were BOTH so incredibly tired.

 

"...please...give me a minute alone..."

The mood already thoroughly soured, replikas sitting in the lounge vacated at once. Cast pitying glances toward their bereaved head navigator.

"...it'll be okay, mom," Isis said, bobbing her head. She backed out of the room, leaving her mother alone with herself and her thoughts.

Circe walked to the reinforced window. Looked out on an infinite sea of stars.

"...she's right," Circe said, hugging herself. Wiped her eye with the back of her hand. "It'll...all be alright..." She inhaled. Exhaled.

Despite this, she couldn't get Hippolyta's face out of her mind. Or Elster's.

For the strike team, only about 24 hours passed. The wonders of Warp travel through the Realm of Chaos itself.

For the Nomarch, it had been two weeks.

For a solid half of that, Circe knew, in her heart of hearts, Hippolyta was dead.

She shuddered, taking a ragged breath. Stared out at the void.

The Nomarch started to turn. Doubtless by some order, or simply on Tulip's own initiative, they were hoving about, readying to set off for a new destination.

One of Circe's daughters would need to navigate. She couldn't possibly focus.

In the week since her premonition, Circe could only weep. Could hardly sleep, until exhaustion claimed her. The absence by her bedside too great to bear.

"...I just...need to wait a little longer..." Circe breathed. Swallowed. She tried to force a smile. "...when Hip is back, then I'll..."

She tried. She truly did. But the words just felt hollow. Like ash in her mouth.

Circe stepped forward, and pressed a hand to the glass. "...Hip..." she whimpered. "...come back to me..."

"..."

Her heart stopped. She flinched.

Felt a hand on her shoulder.

"...can you p-please...go away?" Circe whimpered, shutting her eyes. She looked over her shoulder. "...I want to be alo-"

There was no one there.

And yet...the feeling of the hand remained.

"..." Circe felt a chill run up her spine. Eyes widened. "...who is...?"

She turned back to the window, and saw their reflection standing behind her. Their eyes in shadow.

"Ah!" Circe cried, clapping a hand over her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes. "...H-H...H-"

They smiled, and brushed an ice cold hand on Circe's cheek. The Kolibri shivered at the touch.

The Kolibri felt like crying. Her heart raced. She shut her eyes, and leaned into the hand, cold though it was. "...p-please...I didn't mean it...don't go..." Took a ragged, gasping breath. "...don't leave me alone again...I..."

Her heart stopped again. Eyes shot open.

"Oh empress!" she gasped, clapping hands to her heart.

She turned around and ran to the door.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

 

"You're sure you want to go through with this?"

Light shined down on the operating table. Frost already starting to melt on the Storch's face.

On one side of the table, surgical implements laid out in a neat row. Sterilized, more out of habit than anything.

On the other, a machine taken from the Nomarch's deep storage. A tool never used. But which the Eusan Empire fully intended its crew to employ, as needed.

A rectangular column of beige machines, stacked one atop the other. A reservoir full of cold water sat on top. From the bottom of the reservoir, wires stuck out, ending in diodes that hung on the edge of the tank. Ready for insertion. Another wire ran to the Nomarch's central computer, and still another connected to the bioresonance amplification helmet.

Elster looked at the Gerät zur Extraktion Neuronaler Muster (GENM). The Neural Pattern Extraction Device. Then, looked at her daughter on the slab. She slipped on her surgical mask. "Yes. I'm sure."

Daisy, Rose, and Heidi stared at their mother forlornly from behind their own masks. Hair tied back in nets, fronts garbed in surgical gowns. Hands in front of them, clad in sterile gloves.

"...very well," Daisy said, nodding. She looked to Rose. "Turn on the electric drill."

"R-right," Rose said, nodding. She picked up the corded rotary drill, and thumbed it on.

Whhhrrrrrrrr.

The tool whined. Carefully, she handed it to Daisy, who took it without complaint.

She leaned forward. The drill hovered over Hippolyta's scalp. "Beginning brain removal procedure," Daisy said.

"STOP!"

The door to the workshop slid open. A frantic Kolibri ran inside.

"Circe?" Heidi said, flinching. The Eule backed up a step, clutching hands to her heart.

"Sh-should she be here?" Rose said, looking between surgical participants.

"..." Daisy stood up straight, shutting the drill off.

"Circe," Elster said, turning. She narrowed her eyes. Stepped forward. "You can't be here right now. Wait out-"

"N-no!" Circe yelled, panting. Hand pressed to her heart. She frowned. "You mustn't!"

"Tch," Elster said, stalking forward. "Circe. Leave! She's thawing out! We need to do it now, or we risk further degradation!"

"But it's not her!" Circe barked, clenching her fists. "It won't be her!"

"Yes it will!" Elster yelled, ripping her mask off. "You're being hysterical!"

"And you're being unreasonable!" Circe retorted, pointing a finger. "Irrational!"

Gritted teeth. "...we don't have time for this," Elster growled. Turned around. "Get out of here, Circe. I have to save my other daughter, and YOUR girlfriend."

"It Won't. Be. Her."

"How do you know that!?" Elster yelled, turned back. Shaking an upraised hand at the Kolibri, fingers curled into claws. "How!?"

Circe glared at Elster. Swallowed.

She extended a hand. "Take my hand."

"Wha-?" Elster blinked. "No. We don't have time for..."

"Take. My. Hand," Circe said, forcefully, "Mother."

Breathing heavily, Elster stepped forward and took the Kolibri's hand. "Okay. Now what?"

"Close your eyes," Circe said.

"Circe, this isn't a game," Elster said, scowling. "Hip is..."

"Mom..." Circe said, voice cracking. Her lower lip quivered. "Please. Just close your eyes. You have to see."

"..." Elster frowned, then sighed. "Okay." She closed her eyes.

"See what I see," Circe said, squeezing her mother's hand.

"..." Elster allowed darkness to envelop her. Opened herself up to Circe. Waited.

First, she saw her own arm, reaching out. Then, Circe, holding her hand.

Then, another figure.

Elster gasped, freezing in place.

"...ah..." she breathed, eyebrows shooting up. Heart skipped a beat.

In the mental world, she stared, transfixed.

"...Hippolyta?"

Towering over Circe - towering over Elster - the lanky figure stood. Draped in the tatters of her hopes and dreams. Hand rested on Circe's shoulder.

Her mouth set in a frown. Her eyes shadowed beneath a mop of black hair.

Elster shivered, as a cold wind billowed through Hippolyta's shroud and swept over Elster's body.

"...how can...?" Elster breathed, trembling. "...this isn't an illusion, is it?"

"No," Circe said, shaking her head. She frowned sadly. "It's like you're always telling us, mom. When you make a new replika, it's always a new replika. They're always their own person. Even if you take Hippolyta's neural pattern and graft it to a new Storch...she'll think she's Hippolyta. But she won't BE Hippolyta. She'll be a new Storch, with old memories."

Hippolyta's shade extended her other hand. Waiting expectantly.

"...Hip..." Elster gasped, not hesitating a second to take that hand.

It was cold as the grave. And so very, very real.

"...because Hippolyta is here," Circe said, somberly. "Even if you make a new Storch, the Hippolyta we knew and loved will still be here."

From behind the shadows over her eyes, Hippolyta regarded her mother.

She smiled.

"...baby..." Elster said, squeezing the cold woman's hand with all her might. She didn't want to let go. She...

Elster's eyes snapped open. Hand closed around empty air.

"...Hippolyta..." she sobbed, her face contorting in pain. "...Hippolyta..."

It was in that moment, the compartmentalization failed. It hit Elster like a freight train.

Hippolyta, her daughter, was dead. And Elster couldn't bring her back to life. She was just...dead.

She sank to her knees and hugged Circe. The Kolibri hugged back.

"...my baby!" Elster cried, shutting her eyes. Head hung limply, as her chest was wracked with ugly sobs. "My baby girl! My precious child!"

"I'm so sorry, mom!" Circe sobbed, pressing her face in Elster's hair.

"..."

Behind them, the two Aras and Eule stood around the slab. Watched the tragedy unfold.

"...O White Mother..." Heidi said, rubbing her eyes as tears broke out.

"...so..." Rose said, frowning behind her mask. "...what happens now?"

"I think..." Daisy said, sighing, "...the procedure is canceled." She set the rotary tool down on the table.

"..."

Stretched to their limit, mother and daughter let the dams break. Allowed everything they'd pent up...spill out.

They just...let go.

They cried.

Hovering over them, unseen, Hippolyta hugged them as well she could, through the division between worlds.

Chapter 74: Vacation Days

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of Miscarriage/Child Loss

"I take it the procedure was reconsidered?"

Metal footsteps on the workshop floor. A red robe swayed with the motion.

Heidi sniffled in the corner, face buried in Rose's shoulder.

"Correct," Daisy said, nodding. She held her face mask in her hand. "Circe seems adamant Hip's spirit is still around. That sort of...put the whole 'make a clone of Hippolyta with her grafted memories' in a new light."

Diodana turned her head fractionally to regard her most senior (replika) student. "...I...do not know how to process that information," she said. Nodded. "But such is the way of things, I suppose. The important part is...LSTR-512 and KLBR-N0601 are willing to accept...Hippolyta's death."

The Aras nodded.

"Very well," the tech adept said, nodding. She walked up to the Storch's body. "I suppose I should say a few words."

"There'll probably be a funeral," Daisy said. "After they wake up, that is. They've both had...a really long few days."

"I will endeavor to concoct suitable words at that juncture, then," Diodana said, nodding.

"According to Double Tap," Daisy continued, "Hippolyta wanted you to know she's sorry for hurting you."

"..."

Diodana looked down at the Storch again. "...I see. If an echo of Hippolyta continues to exist in the Warp, and she can hear me...I accept your apology."

Heidi hiccuped, rubbing her eyes. "...it's so awful..."

Diodana raised a metal finger, about to speak. Then simply lowered it again. "...quite."

Rose sighed. "...I guess...we still need to clean her up. Get her organic bits together." She looked up from the body. "Are we thinking cremation?"

"Probably," Daisy said, crossing her arms. "It's up to Circe, of course. But cremation of the organic parts seems most practical."

"In any event, we cannot afford to allow her blessed mechanical components go to waste," Diodana said, gesturing to the Storch's chassis. "Extreme though the repairs need be. Salvage is paramount."

"Agreed," said both Daisy and Rose.

Heidi began to sob, covering her mouth to try to choke back her tears. "..."

Diodana looked up at the Eule. "EULR-N0605, I request you put away the neural pattern extraction device."

"Uh...hic...okay," Heidi said, sniffing. She nodded.

"Just in the parts locker for now, will be fine," Diodana said, gesturing to the grated wall of the workshop, behind which shelves and crates were stacked. "Then, once that is complete, you are free to retire for the day."

"Are you s-sure?" Heidi said, snapping to attention.

Rose placed a hand on the Eule's shoulder. "Go. You're overwrought. It's okay to go rest. We'll take care of Hippolyta."

Heidi hugged Rose, then walked around the table. "Okay," she mumbled, nodding. "Th-thank you." Slowly removed her mask, hair net, gloves, and scrubs.

The tech priests helped put the machine away, then stood around the slowly warming body. All frost long thawed, leaving a moist sheen on Hippolyta's skin.

"Goodnight," Heidi mumbled, heading out the door.

"Goodnight," said Rose and Daisy.

Hssss.

"..."

"...are you going to be alright to continue?" Rose said, turning to Daisy. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A few hours," Daisy said, rubbing her eyes.

"It would not be a problem if you retired as well, Daisy," Diodana said, slipping surgical gloves over her metal hands.

"Everyone else worked so hard and risked their lives," Daisy said, putting on her surgical mask. "The least I can do...is give Hippolyta the attention she deserves. The mission isn't over, so I won't sleep." She forced a smile under her mask. "Besides..." she sighed, looking down at the replika on the slab. "...this...isn't the first time I pulled an all-nighter stripping the dead. It's almost...nostalgic..."

Rose frowned.

"I see," Diodana said, nodding. She pulled a hand radio and thumbed a button. "Any EULR units active at this hour, besides EULR-N0605. We request caffeinated tea in the workshop. Preferably in a vessel it is acceptable to get...dirty."

A moment later, a voice came on.

"Vanessa here," said Vanessa. "I can do it....are you still performing that...pattern extraction?"

"Negative," Diodana said. "That has been canceled. Or at least postponed. We will merely be performing basic coronary procedures and parts salvage."

"Oh thank the empress," Vanessa breathed quickly. "...understood. See you when the water is boiled. Over."

"Thank you kindly, over."

Radio put away, the tech priests stared down at their...unfortunate project.

"...so...are we putting the brain aside for possible pattern extraction anyway?" Rose said, raising an eyebrow.

"We will need to remove the brain in any case," Diodana said. "We may as well place it in cryostorage for the moment, if KLBR-N0601 or LSTR-512 change their minds. Moreover, even should STCR-...Hippolyta's pattern not be required to have memories implanted as-is, the skills developed during her lifetime may be highly valuable in the future. More 'current' to post-Eusan Compliance technology and tactics, than the baseline STCR pattern."

"Makes sense," Daisy said, nodding sleepily. She yawned into her gloved hand. "We better proceed quickly, then. Get the brain 'on ice', while it's still halfway decent."

Rose nodded, taking up her electric rotary drill. She paused, looking down at the Storch. "...question. When we start working on the face...should we remove the skin and muscle first, then the eyes? Or..."

"Or pluck the eyes out, then remove the face?" Daisy said, eyeing her sister.

"Is it a relevant distinction?" Diodana said, preparing an electric screwdriver to remove Hippolyta's chest plate.

"I just...don't know which would be worse to look at while working," Rose said, hunching down. "An eyeless face, or a faceless skull with eyes that stare."

"It is a conundrum," Daisy said, nodding. Crossed her arms, looked down pensively.

"We see replika skulls regularly," Diodana said, wagging a finger. "Including floating about."

"It's not the same when they have the realistic eyes," Rose said, frowning. "And those skulls are either unfinished replikas, or to be used as drones. It's different, emotionally, when it's your friend."

"I will...take your word for it," Diodana said, before leaning over to begin unscrewing.

Daisy tapped her finger on her mask. "How about...we get the brain out, and then just...leave both face and eyes in place until the end?" She looked up at her sister, waved a hand. "That way, we'll just be looking at our friend's 'sleeping' face, albeit with the top of her head off. That sound good?"

Rose shrugged. "I suppose it's the best we can hope for. Hippolyta IS pretty beautiful."

Daisy nodded. "She sure is. Was. Still is."

---

"Rise, servant. Attend me."

"..."

She absolutely did not want to rise. She did not want to move. She just wanted to...lay there, on the false spacecraft hull, until all the stars in the void burned out.

"...I repeat, 'Attend. Me.', servant. You have delayed this meeting sufficiently already."

She briefly considered how long she might continue, prone and unmoving, before the Daemon Lord became irate.

"..." Elster sighed, rolling over and rising to her hooves. Took her damn time doing it.

Xana I hung in the sky, as the replika reluctantly walked across the hull of the Penrose 512. The debris ring still burned.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

She took her position by the demi-god's side. Glanced out at the system she so recently vacated. Then, looked down at the ground.

Elster never wanted to see the system again.

"...Dark Artificer..." she said, quietly. Rubbed her arm.

"Excellent."

Towering above the replika, Vashtorr the Arkifane gestured with his mechanical claw. Three burning furnaces stared at Xana-Tisiphone.

He stood as straight as his hunched torso, burdened by metal plates and metal wings, could muster. Heat and light flared from his face, triumphantly.

"LSTR Five One Two," Vashtorr rumbled, "your success delights me immensely. A singular prize - a magnificent servant - you plucked from certain death, and delivered him to a position of prominence. I am impressed."

Elster glanced at the prison-forge, then back to the ground. "...thank you, Dark Artificer..." she mumbled, feebly.

"The Work Anacharis Scoria shall accomplish..."

"Sir. If I may..."

The Arkifane paused. He turned his gaze upon her. She felt the heat of that gaze. "...proceed, if you must."

Elster hugged herself. "...if it's...alright with you," she said, quietly, "I would prefer if we cut our debriefing short. I...do not wish to...know the ramifications of my actions on Xana. I don't...want to know what horrors of artifice I have just unleashed. What...evil my daughter's death bought." She shrank into herself, frowning. It was all she could do to not break down crying on the spot. She sucked air sharply, feeling a lump in her throat. Lowered her voice to a rapid whisper. "...I would prefer just to be dismissed, so I can mourn. Please."

There was zero chance her bond-holder - her master - had any sympathy for her plight. Nonetheless, he looked away.

"Understood," he said, raising his baroque hammer and playing with the head. "Infinite other projects vie for my attention, though Time constrains me not. Moreover, if your continued efficacy requires time to...compensate..."

A sharp breath. "...it does, sir."

"Then we shall converse at a later date, LSTR Five One Two," the Daemon said. "Keep up the exemplary labor, servant." He held is hammer over the ground, then paused. "...one final matter."

"...yes?" Elster said, looking up. Her eyes watery. Her mouth quivering in pain.

"As additional reward for stellar service," Vashtorr said, not looking at the replika, "I grant an additional thirteen days leave with your woman. Spend them as you see fit."

Elster blinked. "...what?"

The hammer slammed down on the hull. All went black.

 

"Good morning, Elster!"

Eyes snapped open. Heart raced.

Hssss.

The doors to the calibration pod opened. Steam wafted across the grated floor.

Blinking, Elster looked forward. "...Ariane?"

"Don't worry, I didn't sleep on the floor this time!" the gestalt said, holding her hand up to her face. She smiled, tilting her head to the side. "I just woke up early today, and decided to greet you when you woke up."

A hoof stepped from the pod. A second. They remained motionless, less than a meter from the gestalt's feet.

Elster stared. Hunched. Frowning. Brows furrowed sadly.

Ariane's smile diminished. "...Elster?" she said, brows rising. She frowned. "...what's wrong, sweetie?"

"Hhgh!" Elster gasped, throwing her arms around her lover.

"Elster!" Ariane said, throwing her arms up as best she could. She hugged back. Gave a confused smile. "...I didn't know you were that happy to see..."

Ariane's eyes widened, as she felt a droplet fall on her shoulder. Felt the shuddering breath in the replika's chest. "...Ellie?"

"Aaaaagh!" the replika cried, in anguish. Tears ran down her face in rivulets. "...hic...ah-hah...hic..."

The gestalt frowned, then patted the back of her lover's head. "...there, there...it's okay. Let it out."

Elster wept.

 

"Are you feeling better, Ellie?"

The replika's puffy eyes opened. Briefly confused, she checked her digital interface for the time.

It was altogether too early in the morning, for her to still be in Ariane's bed. She should be in the calibration pod, whether on the Penrose 512 or...

Oh. Right., Elster thought, closing her eyes again. Her hand rose, and squeezed that of her lover. I remember.

The gestalt nuzzled her chin into the top of the replika's head, the latter resting in the crook of the former's neck. Pale arms draped over the artificial human's shoulders. White and black fingers weaved together.

"...yeah," Elster said, sighing. Despite herself, she enjoyed being the 'little spoon', for once. "I'm feeling...a little better," she lied.

"No headache?" Ariane said, brushing a lock of black hair from her lover's face. "Did you drink enough water?"

"Mmhmm," Elster nodded, quietly. Her throat felt sore. Ravaged by hours and hours of crying.

Any other 'visit', Elster would never permit herself such a wasteful use of time with Ariane. But technically, it wasn't just a 'visit'.

Vashtorr granted Elster 'vacation time'. A full two weeks.

As such, and seeing as she was a mother mourning the loss of her baby...a little selfish indulgence was acceptable. Healthy, even. Right?

"That's good," Ariane said, kissing the top of the replika's head. "Keeping you hydrated did the trick. It always does."

Elster briefly considered, with slight trepidation, that Ariane and Elster learned that during their original voyage.

She needed to change the subject. "I'm sorry I took up the whole day," Elster croaked, shutting her eyes. "You didn't need to-"

"Nonsense," Ariane said, puffing her cheeks. "You stayed by my side the whole time, just the other day. The least I can do is return the favor." She smiled. "Besides...what kind of girlfriend would I be if I left you to cry alone?"

A pale hand stroked Elster's cheek. Elster smiled, patting the hand with her own. She held it, and kissed the beautiful white knuckles. "...thank you, Ari."

"Any time, and always," Ariane said, pulling the dark hand up and kissing it in return. She giggled. "You want breakfast? You didn't eat anything all day yesterday."

"God, yes." Elster's smile diminished. She shut her eyes. "But...can we just...lay here, just a little longer?"

"Okay, okay," Ariane said, nodding. "But not too long. I...need to pee soon. I was with you all night."

Elster sighed. "...dammit."

 

"...a baby?"

Steam leaked from the cracks in the doorway. Muffled sounds of falling water filtered through the metal wall.

Propped on her forearm, Ariane stared at the door to her bathroom. Sat backwards in her chair.

Pondered deeply. "..."

Elster did not, as a rule, talk in her sleep. As a rule, Elster wasn't the most verbose in general. A tendency slowly softened as the pair's professional relationship budded into friendship, and then blossomed into love. Still, while her lover became steadily more talkative, Ariane never knew her to be especially forthcoming with what the gestalt came to understand was a rich internal life.

They certainly rarely discussed what Elster remembered of her gestalt's existence. What they knew, rather, was conveyed through context. They didn't directly reference Elster's obvious war PTSD. They didn't need to. Instances of "Movie Night" being derailed by her descending into a panicked mess told them all that was required about which films were safe to watch, and which HAD to be avoided.

All delicate subjects, politely danced around.

Elster did not talk in her sleep. Except, of course, when she did. Which, admittedly, was rare.

Ariane chewed her thumb, pensively. Furrowed her brow.

"...my baby...my baby!"

That's what Elster sobbed in her sleep, as the two lay together in bed overnight, for the first time in Ariane knew not how long. A distraught, feverish woman, choking and crying out for a child taken from her.

"..." The gestalt clutched a hand to her chest, grimacing in pain. It had been, put simply, heartbreaking.

It was also completely new.

Never once, in all their thousands of cycles (how many was it?) together, had Elster so much as intimated that her gestalt was a mother. Or, perhaps grimly, a could-have-been mother.

"...ngh..." Ariane whined, ruffling her hair as she rubbed her scalp in frustration. Too many terrible possibilities bedeviled her mind.

Had Elster's gestalt lost the child somehow? Lost during childbirth? Lost after, taken by illness, accident, misadventure, or...war? Given her lover's understanding of war subjects, Ariane always assumed the LSTR gestalt was a soldier, or perhaps a scout. Had she become pregnant during the conflicts with the Empire? Did she lose the child during the war, or...had the Nation literally TAKEN the child away? To be raised a ward of the state...or disposed of...?

Ariane clapped a hand over her mouth. Queasy, at the myriad of horrible, but disturbingly likely, possibilities arrayed before her. She didn't know which was worst.

Even the age of the child when deprived of Elster - sorry, Elster's gestalt - was a mystery. Stillborn? Infant? Toddler? Older...?

How long ago Elster's neural pattern was "harvested" was also a mystery. If the child was still alive, somewhere back in-system, how old would they be? Would they even recognize Elster as their mother, replika-hood notwithstanding?

Shunk.

The water in the bathroom shut off automatically.

"Ah!" Ariane squeaked, sitting at attention. She stared at the door, turning her head fractionally to listen.

Heard the shower door slide open. Hooves step slowly and lightly on the floor. A towel taken up, and used to dry black polyethylene skin. Slowly. Deliberately. Reluctantly.

"..." The gestalt frowned, staring at the door. Chewed her lower lip.

Spontaneous emergence of maternal tragedy in her gestalt life would certainly explain Elster's distraught, weepy disposition over the last few days. First in the kitchen, then awakening from the calibration pod. A trauma so acute, it transcended death itself, to manifest in her replika incarnation.

Ariane's heart broke anew. Oh Elster, she thought, rubbing her eye, it must be tearing you apart.

Creak.

Hooves clanked against the metal floor. A damp towel hung around a neck. The replika leaned down, stepping into and pulling up a black pair of underwear, the same color as the surrounding pseudo-skin. The sole garment alloted to most replikas, to preserve modesty of their excretory openings. As well as the illusion they didn't possess them.

Once upon a time, Elster worked tirelessly to preserve this same modesty and illusion both. Now, spares of the garment regularly littered the floor and bed of Ariane's quarters.

"..." Elster looked up, hair still slightly damp. Locked eyes with the gestalt. "...hey."

"H-hey!" Ariane stammered, rising to her feet. Rubbed her face, realizing she was blushing. She offered a small, nervous smile. "D-did you...did the shower...make you feel better?"

"...yes," Elster croaked, nodding. She gave a small smile in return.

It...looked terribly forced. It slowly evaporated, as the two stared at one another.

"..." Ariane frowned, pressing a fist to her heart. "...that's good." She nodded curtly.

"..." Elster frowned. "...yeah." She looked down to the floor.

Ariane chewed her thumb. Furrowed her brow.

Her next move mattered terribly. Would it be better to simply...pretend nothing happened? That she heard nothing? Let the subject drop, in the hopes matters would return to normal?

It was a forlorn hope. If Elster truly uncovered deep, traumatic memories, that would color every aspect of her life going forward. Of their life together. Ariane couldn't count on Elster just..."getting over it". Not this. Nor that Elster wouldn't simply lock the pain away, so it could quietly fester. That she wouldn't suffer in silence, until some terrible rift formed between them.

Step. Step.

Elster started walking toward the door, giving a single sidelong glance at Ariane. "..."

No. The gestalt definitely couldn't let it go. She could already see the rift forming. She couldn't let that happen.

"I...heard you, last night," Ariane said, staring at the bathroom door.

"Eh?" Elster said, turning her head in surprise. "What?"

Ariane clenched her fists down at her sides. Screwed her eyes shut. "...you...talked in your sleep."

Elster's eyes widened in alarm. She staggered away a step. "Wh-wha...I don't..."

Ariane saw a fresh bead of sweat break out on the replika's face. Saw her entire body tense up.

"...what...did I say?" Elster said, swallowing hard. Holding her hands up.

A chewed lip. Eyes darting away, furtively. Ariane looked her girlfriend in the eyes.

"...I'm...sorry about the baby..."

The replika flinched. Gritting her teeth in pain. Then, strangely, she exhaled. A tension in her chest seemed to visibly melt away.

"..." Elster stared at the floor. "...I...said that, huh?"

"Yes," Ariane said, softly. Nodded. She frowned. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"No, no," Elster said, shutting her eyes and hanging her head. "It...just hit me, all at once. It..." Her voice hitched. "...feels like it just happened."

Ariane held her arms out wide. "Come here."

The replika took a sharp breath, and embraced the gestalt.

"..."

Two stood in silence, broken only by the occasional ragged, stifled breath. An attempt to not break down again.

"There, there," Ariane cooed, rubbing her girlfriend's back. "I can't...claim to understand what it's like. But it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"...th-thank you," Elster gasped, burying her face in the gestalt's white hair. "It's...just so much."

"We don't need to go into it, if it's too painful," Ariane said, shutting her eyes and pressing her face into the replika's neck. "We can talk about it when you're ready. Just...know that I'm here for you. Always."

Another sharp breath. Elster rocked back and forth. Grimacing in pain. "...dammit," she whimpered, sniffing, "I don't...want to cry again."

"Cry as much as you need," Ariane said, hugging her girlfriend. "We have nowhere to go, and nothing that needs doing anytime soon."

"But I just took a shower!" Elster whined, a lump in her throat. "I'll need to...again..."

"Then we can spend another whole day crying if we need to," Ariane said, nodding. Massaged the replika's back. "And you can shower again. I don't mind waiting."

"You're...too good to me," Elster sobbed, hugging harder. "I don't...deserve you..."

"Deserve has nothing to do with it. Just...take the time you need. Okay?"

"...ogay..." Elster croaked, a trail of snot running from her nose. She wiped in on the back of her hand, to prevent it blighting her lover's hair. "...I love you, Ari..."

Ariane smiled, looking up. Pecked her girlfriend's cheek affectionately. Stroked it with her hand.

"Love you, too, Ellie."

Chapter 75: Parting Words

"How long has she been asleep?"

Shadows cast on glass and metal. Two sets of hands leaned on the frame. Eyes stared at the torpid form within.

Twenty-seven hours and counting, Mik'hul thought, chipper as can be.

"...right..." Circe said, frowning. She pressed a hand to her chest. "We're sure she's alright?"

"From what Daisy told me," Myrtle said, head down, arms crossed, "the Penrose calibration pods will feed water directly to the LSTR unit's veins if it senses her levels are getting low. But the whole function of the pod is to put the user in a low-metabolic state, where they won't need much food or water for long periods. So long as it doesn't last for, like, months, Elster shouldn't die of hunger or anything."

Circe sighed, standing up and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Right. Okay."

"Why's she not waking up, do you think?" Myrtle said, adjusting her goggles quizzically. "Is this normal when she's not...you know, being resurrected?"

The Big Man was so pleased by the boss doing that last job, Mik'hul thought, he gave her an extended 'vacation' with the missus.

"With the White Mother?" Circe mumbled, pressing a finger to her lips. "...I see."

"Vacation? Do we know for how long?" Myrtle muttered, tilting her head to the side.

For the boss, two weeks. Out here, three days or so. Barring unexpected weirdness back home.

"Warp time dilation is weird," Myrtle said, frowning.

"...at least it'll give her time," Circe sighed, hugging herself. "I had a week, where I didn't know for sure...but where I definitely knew what happened. I've had...time to process it, even if getting it confirmed was something entirely different." She blinked down at her mother. "Elster...for her, it just happened."

"Well...being with Ariane will do her some good..." Myrtle said, shrugging. "...hopefully."

"Empress, I hope so..." Circe said, sighing again.

She fished in the pocket of her navy blue jumpsuit. Pulled out a photograph.

Grew misty-eyed, staring at her and Hippolyta in the boat. A moment that seemed like yesterday. When they were truly happy. A lump formed in her throat.

"..." Myrtle stared at her mother. "...do you want me to hold on to that? The photo, I mean."

"...what?" Circe said, eyes shooting up.

"...I'm...just afraid you're going to tear it up or burn it or something," the Ara said. "You know....do something that seems right in the moment, but that you'll regret later."

"I don't..." Circe closed her mouth, lips curled in pain. She looked back down at the photo. "...hah..." she groaned, burying her face in one hand, while holding the photo out. "...please. Save me from myself."

"Got it," Myrtle nodded, taking the photo. She raised her goggles, looking at it with clear eyes, before pocketing the precious relic of bygone happiness. "If you've got any more, maybe lend them to the others. That way it's harder to..." She held her tongue.

"...harder to force one of you to give them all back, so I can destroy them?" Circe said, hugging herself again.

"...I...didn't want to say."

"No, you're right," Circe said, nodding. "I...need time away from it." She inhaled. Exhaled a ragged, shuddering breath.

"..." Myrtle walking around the calibration pod and hugged her mother. "Stay safe, okay?"

"Mmhmm," Circe nodded, returning the hug.

The Ara walked to the door, then paused. Looked over her shoulder. "Did you give any thought to it? Daisy and Diodana's plan to add Hippolyta's neural pattern to the normal pool?"

"Not yet," Circe shook her head, frowning. "I...need more time. We'll wait for Elster to wake up, then...we'll decide together."

"Then after that, the funeral?" Myrtle said, nodding.

"Right, yes," Circe breathed, wiping her eye.

"Okay," the Ara said. She turned, then paused a second time. Turned back. "...mom?"

"Yeah?" Circe said, turning her head back.

"...I..." Myrtle raised a finger, then curled it. Eyes turned away. "Forget it."

"No, what?" Circe said, turning her whole body. "Is there something else?"

"N-nothing that...can't wait," Myrtle said, eyes glued to the floor. She looked at her mother. "We can discuss it later."

"O-okay," Circe said, in a shuddering breath. Nodded. "...love you."

"Love you too. See you later," the Ara said, before finally leaving.

Hssss.

"..."

Circe turned back to the pod. Inhaled. Exhaled. Eyes down. She hugged her arm.

"...Mik'hul," she said, somberly, "would you mind leaving us alone for a while?"

Hmm? The Daemon hummed to himself. ...sure. Okay. I'll leave you three alone.

"..."

Circe closed her eyes. Waited until she felt the cold arms embrace her from behind.

"...you okay?" whispered the shade, softly. "I'm not too cold, am I?"

"No, no, I can handle the cold," Circe breathed, shivering. She frowned. "...it just...hurts."

"I can stop," Hippolyta said, making to draw back.

"No!" Circe said, sharply. She lowered her voice. "Please...keep hugging me. It's not you. It's...me."

The Storch kept hugging her widow. They rocked back and forth together. "...I'm hurting you, though."

"It's just..." Circe said, voice cracking. "I don't...know if you're really here. Or if you're the daemon, fucking with me. Or...if I'm just degrading."

"Persona Degredation is just Nation speak for 'doesn't work hard enough'," Hippolyta said. "Plus...Elster could see me."

"She saw what I saw," Circe said, shaking her head. "It could all be a lie. Or my brain, not wanting to let go. And I...don't know if I can stand that uncertainty. Or..." She sniffed, taking a ragged breath. "...the pain of it really being you."

"..."

They stood together in silence. Amid stacks of boxes and mechanical junk.

"...do you need me to leave?" the shade said. "I can go, if you..."

"I don't..." Circe said quickly, then took a breath. "...don't...leave me forever, Hip. Please." she sobbed.

"I won't," Hippolyta said, resolutely. "If you need your space, I'll give it to you. But I'll never abandon you. Not unless...you tell me to."

"..."

Tatters of hopes and dreams billowed in an invisible, unfelt ethereal wind.

"...just..." Circe breathed, hands rising to caress the shade's cold arms. "...stay with me, for a little longer. For this moment. I don't care if it hurts. Just...let's sit here, for a while."

Hippolyta nodded. Eyes bathed in shadow. She smiled sadly.

"I can do that. For as long as you need."

---

"Are you alright in there?"

A newspaper lowered as quietly as was practical. Eyes peeked over the top, furtively.

"Y-yeah, I'm good," Elster said, crossing her legs. "I just...need some time alone."

"O-okay..." Ariane said, sounding uncertain. Footsteps backed up. "Take your time. I'll be upstairs."

"See you there," Elster nodded, waiting for the footsteps to retreat.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

Hssss.

Elster sighed, sinking down into the toilet seat. She raised the paper, trying to find her place again.

"...hmm..." she muttered under her breath, "...Imperium Secundus, huh? Wonder how long that will last." She sighed.

At least Ultramar fared better than earlier in the war. She might need to revise her ranking of the region as a good "retirement" spot, for her and Ariane...

The replika sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose.

A week and a half. In any other situation, Elster would be over the moon. So many consecutive days, alone with Ariane. And after years of being dribbled days at random every few months.

Any other situation, it would be unalloyed bliss. Where she could forget the outside world. Pretend they were back then, during the original voyage, alone and in love and...without the threat of their slow, wasting demise hanging over them.

But it wasn't. Hippolyta was dead. At best, a ghost, left to wander the tempests beyond material reality.

Elster shivered, hugging herself. Just the thought of what her baby was going through...

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, burying her face in her hand. Shook her head.

After the first few days, when just getting out of bed was a monumental feat and tears flowed like wine, Elster actually started to enjoy herself. She would wake up, and luxuriate in the bliss of being in Ariane's bed again. Of her being there when she woke. Of being able to pick up where they left off the previous night.

Oh yes, for much of the week in the middle, they made love frequently and tenderly.

But invariably, the memories would surge back. Elster once again overwhelmed with sadness, and guilt. Guilt for letting Hippolyta die. Guilt for not being faster to protect her, or more competent a medic. Guilt for...sitting in a private love nest, fucking her girlfriend, when the last she saw of her daughter was her cold body on a slab.

"Ngh...hah hah hah!" Elster groaned, biting her thumb. Cringed bodily. Mortified. Ashamed. She rubbed fingers in her scalp, mussing her hair. "...oh...Hip..." she whined under her breath.

"..."

The replika sucked air sharply through her nose, and sat back up. Retrieved the newspaper where it fell from her grasp, and put the pages back in order.

Elster compartmentalized her guilt. Not for the first time that day.

There was nothing for it. She never asked Vashtorr to arrange the schedule in the most inconvenient way for her mental health. She never asked to go on 'vacation' right as she was grieving. When she should be back in Realspace, helping clean up her baby's body and arrange her funeral. To say nothing of consoling everyone else...

"..."

Inhale. Exhale. Elster shut her eyes, thinking.

She spent much of the morning miming ship maintenance. There was, of course, never anything that required fixing. No instruments needed checking, no systems adjusting, no parts replacing. The ship, a recreated facsimile, ran itself.

But Elster could only spend so many consecutive hours vacillating between love-making, eating, crying, showering, and watching old Nation romance films. All while guilt throbbed mercilessly in the back of her head. Making her think of what she did wrong, what she might have done instead, what she should be doing. It was...suffocating.

The only measure of relief came from distraction. So, Elster went through the motions of doing her duties as a loyal Nation replika. Even if it was pointless. It kept Ariane from noticing the unreality of her situation. And it occupied Elster's mind.

Plus, Ariane got a few choice sketches out of it. Always a worthwhile endeavor.

Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Only a few days left, Elster thought, rubbing her eyes. Only a few days left in my 'vacation', before I have to face my daughter again.

She leaned back, resting her head against the lavatory wall. Slowly, her eyes opened.

I need to make them count.

Nodding to herself, Elster rose. Washed her hands, more out of habit than anything. Stowed the newspaper under the floor grating.

Then marched upstairs to sweep Ariane off her feet and carry her to bed.

---

"No! You are not allowed to make a mess on the floor! Do it somewhere else!"

Hssss.

Hooves clacked on tile. One by one, tall figures stooped under the doorway, swaying and staggering.

Bonk.

"Ow! Som'bich! Fach..."

Kite wobbled back, placing a hand on the Storch's shoulder. "Yoo'kay?" she slurred, waving a glass bottle in her other hand.

"Ow, ow...fach," Artemis grunted, rubbing her forehead. "Yeah...who put that...doorway there?"

"Keep'it movin', girls," mumbled Dash, nudging Artemis in the back gently. She stooped herself, two bottles in one hand. "We're too dunk...drunk for this."

"Alright, alright," Artemis said, venturing deeper. Helped by Kite's hand under her arm.

In minutes, inebriated replikas crowded the Nomarch's communal showers. Stood elbow to elbow, leaning against thin partitions or walls for support.

Breach sat the crate of beer bottles on the floor, near a drain. Despite evidence to the contrary, the crate was only half-empty.

Replikas, of much machinery and minimal meat, were notorious light-weights. There simply wasn't enough biomass through which to distribute the alcoholic payload.

"Win's tha fun'ral?" slurred Star 05, leaning against a partition.

"When Elster wakes up, I t'ink," said Star 06, holding onto a showerhead for balance. "She's with the...hic...White Mo'er....White Mother, or...so they say..."

"Fachin' mom," Artemis grumbled, taking a place in a shower stall across from them. "We're all out 'ere, drownin' our sorras...she's on vacay with her girl..."

"Oi, let'up on mom," Double Tap said, pointing a finger and half-glaring at the Storch. "Nob'dy but Circe took it hardr'an Else...we'all los' a sis...she los'a dotter..."

"..." Artemis looked sadly down at the tiled floor, frowning. "...right...right..." she mumbled, chastened.

"Let'er hav'er time wi' Ariane," Double Tap said, steadying herself on a partition. She swung her bottle around for emphasis. "Sh'needs it...hic..."

A number of partygoers grumbled and nodded.

Ting, ting, ting.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Dash said, tapping two open bottles together. "Le's try this a-hic-gain..."

The girls quieted down, giving their full attention.

"...I...don't 'member where I was in m' pretty speech," Dash said, swaying gently. "So...le's just...skip to tha good bit." She stood up as straight as her state of intoxication would allow. "Hip! We love ya, girl! Always have, a'ways will!"

"Ye!" Kite slurred, thrusting her bottle in the air.

A chorus of drunken hoots and unsteady claps joined the chorus. Ishtar leaned on Breach, tussling the Star's hair.

"So in yer honor, Hippopola....Hiplyta...HIP!..." Dash shook her head, wincing. She forced a giddy smile. Raised one of her bottles. "We offer a toast! To Hip!"

"To Hip!" the party shouted, raising their bottles. Some bumped the ceiling, sending them staggering and giggling.

The entire group took a hearty swig. Some deeper than others. Breach, for instance, generally did not indulge. Simply nursed her beer. Her girlfriend, meanwhile, downed the entire bottle in one go. Breach threw an arm around Ishtar's middle, to steady her as she swayed.

Squatting with difficulty, Dash tried to place her spent bottle gently to the ground. "Oop!" she said, as she slipped and fell on her ass. The empty bottle clattered, though not cracked, on the tile floor. "Shit...whoops..."

Double Tap stepped over and crouched, placing a hand on her elder sister's shoulder. "Y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dash said, nodding. She turned her head and held up the open but mostly full beer. "Art? Ish? Either one of ya' wanna do the honors?"

"I'll do it," Artemis said, pushing carefully off the wall and staggering over. She nearly lost balance when she bent down, but came up with the beer in her hand. "Whoa...fach, alright..."

She held the bottle out and raised it. "Here's one for...big sis!" she yelled, louder than she intended. "Where'r you are, Hip...drink up!"

The bottle tipped, as fluid poured out. An expensive local brew purchased from the resort on Caliban she and Circe stayed in. The kind she took a shine to, and returned with in bulk.

It cascaded through the air, splashing messily on the floor. Running over and between tiles, as the gradual slope drew foamy, amber ale down the nearby drain.

The replikas clapped and cheered.

Drip. Drip.

When the bottle was spent, Artemis rubbed her face. "...s-stupid shower," she mumbled, sniffing. "Makin' m' face all wet..."

Breach frowned. "...Art..." she said, quietly. "The shower isn't on."

Artemis took a ragged breath, rubbing tears from her eyes. "Shut up!" she sobbed, wincing. "I's the shower! 'm not...not..."

"..."

The crowd's good cheer dissipated, as the Storch started crying in earnest.

"...c'mere, Art," Ishtar said, struggling off Breach and stepping over. She threw her arms around her sister. "'s okay..."

"Not okay..." Artemis wheezed, burying her face in Ishtar's shoulder. Hugged her for dear life. "She's gone, Ish...Hip's gone..."

"I know...I know," Ishtar whispered, rocking the two back and forth. "Le' it out..."

Double Tap staggered over and hugged Artemis as well. "...'em sorry, Art," she mumbled. Buried her face in the Storch's back and clasped her eyes shut. "'m so sorry! I should'a..."

The remaining Stars leaned somberly or sank to the ground, watching the girls weep.

Beneath them, the last of the offering to Hippolyta drained into the network of pipes threaded through the Nomarch. Disappeared from sight, as it became one with the ship.

 

"...more than a friend. More than a comrade. She was a...I don't think I have the words to describe what she was..."

"...always willing to get stuff off the top shelf for you. It's a small, silly thing, I know. But..."

"...could drink you under the table like no other. Not because she's that much better at holding her liquor than the rest of us, mind. She just wouldn't back down from a challenge. Heh heh...glad she never had to get her liver replaced..."

"...brutish, uncouth, irreverent, and violent...but it would be dishonest to claim our 'disagreement' was not, in principle, motivated by her utmost dedication to the protection this ship and her crew. In her own way, she served the Omnissiah when I, in my then weakness, did not. For that, I am eternally grateful..."

"...best fuckin'...big sis a Storch could ask for...hic..."

"...she'd always make time for us. Sure, Circe is a great mom. But if we ever had a dad, it would be her. Grounded us, took no nonsense...taught us to shoot...carried us to bed when we were tired...oh empress...I'm going to miss you, big momma..."

"...saved me more times than I can remember...crack shot, strong arm, could arc a grenade like no one's business...heh heh...I can't forget how mad she was when she found out Ork teeth decay, so her collection was disappearing..."

"...still doesn't feel real. She was just here, and now..."

"...despite these myriad shortcomings, her experience cannot be easily replicated. Organizing shooting range lesson plans alone will be far more difficult, in her absence. It's one thing to know how to draft a schedule. It's another to know what each student needs. And she understood that better than most..."

"...I...I can't...it's too much..."

Meryl walked over and hugged Vanessa, clapping her back. "There, there," she cooed.

"...hic...I'm...s-sorry..." Vanessa sobbed, rubbing her eyes. "W-with everyone's words...hic...I just can't..."

Circe rose. Hooves clacked on the tile floor as she stepped from her seat and hugged the eldest Eule as well. "...th-thank you, Van," she said, burying her face in Vanessa's shoulder. "You d-don't need to say anything..."

"S-sorry, Circe," Vanessa gasped, wrapping her arms around the Kolibri and pressing their foreheads together. Mouth twisted in pain. "...Hip...she was...hic...she was..."

"Don't worry," Circe said, fingers stroking the Eule's hair. "I understand." She sniffed, frowning. Took a hitched breath.

"..."

The crowd in the cafeteria - shoulder to shoulder, standing room only - wriggled uncomfortably. Watched Meryl lead Vanessa back to her seat. The eldest Eule taking one last moment to gingerly touch the box sitting on a stool in the place of honor.

"...s-sorry, Hip..." she gasped, before allowing herself to be walked from the nominal "stage".

Circe watched her go, then stood behind the makeshift "coffin". Touched it herself, frowning. Her other hand fiddling with the collar of her dyed black jumpsuit.

"..."

The rest of the crowd sat awkwardly. Many faces downcast. Hands fidgeted with flowers in their laps.

Clearing her throat, Elster rose from her seat and took a place opposite Circe behind the box. Placed a hand on top, gently. "...if there's no one else who wishes to speak," she said, eyeing the crowd, "I'd like everyone to form an orderly line. We'll begin depositing the flowers. Adler?"

The male replika nodded, and stepped over to one side. "Will the front row rise?" Held out a hand. "This way, please," he said.

He didn't need to raise his voice. The mess hall, normally abuzz with a constant background noise of furtive conversations, was dead silent.

Row by row, replikas rose from their seats or walked over to join the line. Each clutched a flower reverently. As if bearing holy relics.

The green room's floral stock was depleted, in preparation for the funeral. Hydroponics, as a rule, tended to devote most of its output to fruits, vegetables, and legumes. But inevitably, the Aras insisted on growing flowers too. Work was underway to construct more hydroponics stations in the hallways, exclusively for flowers.

Diodana was finally convinced that stepping on loose petals was not as troublesome as rotten fruit. Not that the Nomarch's rat population, ever stubbornly persisting despite now two generations of cats, would permit even a single fallen blueberry to go uneaten.

One by one, replikas approached the box. Cardboard, spray-painted black to grant a modicum of respect. The top opened to reveal a smaller cardboard box, containing a sealed plastic bag filled with Hippolyta's organic remains. Everything of the Storch that was distinct from her chassis - arguably everything that made her human, rather than a machine - was in the smaller box.

Hands extended. Prayers muttered. Goodbyes choked out. Flowers cast into the box, to surround the remains.

By funeral's end, petals and stems and sweet scents filled the box. Enveloping her in a bed of flowers.

Upon cremation, Hippolyta's ashes would mix with the ashes of their offerings. Their love inextricable from her remains forevermore.

When the last mourner filed back to lean against the back wall, their collective mother stepped forward.

"My apologies again," Elster said, nodding solemnly. Hands clasped before her lap. "If it were practical, I'd lead us all to the furnace together, so we might send Hip off properly. Instead...we shall do it here." She sniffed, rubbing her eye. "And...thank you all for coming. We're all family here, but...it really means a lot." Her voice cracked, as she gave a sad smile.

"All rise!" Adler said, hands clasped behind his back.

Repetition of this order was not necessary. Everyone stood.

"Salute!"

Everyone raised their hands, pressing them resolutely to their temples. A proper Eusan salute. They turned to regard the box.

Elster, Circe, Adler, and the entire senior staff stood at the front of the room saluted. Turned to the box, as Daisy and Tulip picked it up.

The Mother of Machines, forcing herself to channel all her military discipline, called out to her daughter. "Hippolyta, STCR-N0601! In the name of the Grand Empress, the White Mother, and the Machine God! We commend you to the flame that sits at the heart of this, our home! You go forth with all our love! You will always be with us, and never forgotten!"

A lump formed in her throat. Her breath hitched. Elster scowled, and stood firm. "Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!" Adler repeated, stone-faced.

"Auf Wiedersehen!" Dash yelled.

"Auf...Wiedersehen!" Vanessa called, forcing the words out.

"...Auf Wiedersehen," Diodana said, with a Martian accent.

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

One by one, the entire room repeated the words. Granting Hippolyta the respect she deserved.

"AUF WIEDERSEHEN!"

Circe struggled to keep herself together. "...sniff...Auf Wiedersehen...meine liebe..."

Only the Kolibris saw the phantom that stood behind the box, facing Circe.

As the box was picked up and carried away, the shade smiled from under her tatters. Hippolyta saluted.

"Bis demnächst, meine schöne..."

Notes:

If you're reading this at the time of publishing, I'll use this as a good place to pause. I'll be out of town next week. Updates will resume when I return.

Chapter 76: Sons of the Wolf

Notes:

I spent a couple extra weeks catching up on the chapter backlog. Decided you poor people have waited long enough.

"Welcome, child. Be at peace."

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Hair, and the tatters of her hopes and dreams, whipped in the wind, as the Storch strode across cold, cracked stone. Hugging her cloak close, she stopped at the ragged edge of a precipice. Gazed across the dreary expanse of dark clouds stretching to the far horizon.

Lonely islands hung in the void, buoyed unsteadily on threadbare cloud-beds. Topped with the crumbling ruins of heavens shattered, the hovels of gods all but smote from living memory.

"...are you...she?" Hippolyta croaked. Her voice echoed off broken pillars and half-demolished walls.

The figure at her side stood at the edge, shadowed face cast out upon the horizon. Unseen eyes watched the growth of foul tendrils from the deep. Studied their lamentable progression, unchecked in the wake of the Gottsmorde.

Chunks of cold, defunct hells rose with the probing stalks of primordial evil. Chaos absorbed bygone visions of perdition, and claimed them as its own.

"Yes," the elderly woman said, her long white hair whipping in the wind. "You seem surprised, child."

"I'm...not a believer," Hippolyta said, lowering her shadowed eyes. "At least, I wasn't. But my girlfriend is. She believes in you. And I figured, if I ended up anywhere besides where she was going, it would be hell by default. So...I guess I believed just a little bit. Or at least...hoped I'd end up the same place." She turned her head, glancing sideways sheepishly. "Is that...selfish of me?"

"Oh ho ho," the Grand Empress chuckled, warmly. "Don't worry about all that. I never taught my people to be strict moralists, as a whole. That was never the goal, to enumerate the wages of sin and assign a toll for paradise. All are welcome to shelter here. Besides...the walls are broken now, the gates off their hinges. There's no keeping anyone out, or in."

The Storch geist nodded, exhaling in relief. Hugged herself against the cold. She was always cold. Or perhaps it was just the wind. Far on the horizon, the Storm howled. "Th-thank you, your...Majesty..."

She looked around, and spied a half-broken window arch, in the shadow of a corner wall.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

"I don't intend to stay here for good," Hippolyta said, bending down to dust off a section of fallen pillar lying behind the window. "At least...not until Circe arrives." She groaned, bending down and taking a seat. "Oof...I just...need to sit down."

The corner sheltered her from the wind. She didn't feel warm. Hippolyta wasn't sure she'd feel warm for a long, long time. But at least the wind didn't chill her bones. She hugged her cloak around her all the same.

"...so long as...that's okay with you," Hippolyta breathed, sinking into her seat. Eyes fixed on the horizon.

"You are certainly welcome to come and go as you please," said the old woman, nodding. "Stay as long as you like. I'll enjoy the company."

"...sure," Hippolyta said, nodding. "Thanks." Enjoyed being off her hooves. She never before knew what is was to be 'hoofsore'. Never once in all her days did she feel so tired.

Must be why folks are so eager to find an afterlife, she thought, grimly. Wandering...really takes it out of you.

The elderly monarch made no moves to force conversation.

They simply watched the heavens roll by. Or what was left of them.

 

"To Russ, Fenris, and the death of traitors!"

Armaglass mugs - the only material strong enough to endure an Astartes toast - clacked together. The early morning air, dimly lit by flickering firelight, rang with the sound. And with the raucous laughter of giants.

Clouds passed in front of the moon, bathing the camp's periphery in darkness. Deepened still by long shadows cast by the bulk of Rhino and Chimera transports.

Footsteps crunched on soft desert sand. Human auxilia patrolled the edges of camp, night vision goggles glancing fretfully at the stone outcroppings around them. Their shadows dark and deep.

One trooper craned his head up, studying the underside of a wing as he passed below. The parked Thunderhawk gunship idled on its landing gear. Awaiting the dawn, when its complement of marines would set out from camp to hunt their prey.

Shuffle.

"Eh?" the trooper said, flinching. He made to turn.

Shing.

A hand over his mouth. A single shaft of moonlight peeked through the clouds, glinting off a sharp blade. It plunged into his neck, sliding from ear to ear.

The Great Crusade veteran twitched and gurgled his last, as firm, artificial hands lowered him to the ground. Sand drank his vital fluids with a thirst alike to his carousing masters, mere meters away.

Green nightvision goggles darted around, hands wiping the knife clean on the victim's trousers.

Two more guards, and...yes, you're clear.

Elster nodded at a pair of goggles that flashed in the distance, watching the dim silhouette of another replika set their own victim on the ground.

Tulip, Elster thought, motioning her fellow infiltrators to move, get this bird up and running. We have maybe two minutes.

Understood.

...

Clink! Clink! Clink!

Ale so strong it would kill baseline humans disappeared in mighty gulps down the throats of wolves.

"...ah! Delicious! Another!" cried a marine, swinging his mug around. Watched members of his squad - his pack - guzzle golden liquid by the light of the fire. Gray armor cast warm while the cold moon hid in the clouds.

He felt Fenrisian Ale dribble down his cheek, mingling with his thick beard. He wiped what he could away with the back of his hand. "Oh, the Traitors won't know what's coming to them, when-"

The wind changed. Eyes widened. Tiny hairs on the back of a neck stood up.

Nostrils flared. The marine growled, senses fired by the unmistakable scent of blood. Bolted from his seat and whipped his head around. Hands shot to his belt, thumbing a bolt pistol and axe handle.

"...where?" he rumbled, eyes and ears seeking predators...or prey.

His pack-mates shot to their feet. They smelled it too. Twin hearts thrummed into overdrive, as their suits of power armor dumped combat drugs into their systems at the slightest mental impulse.

Rhooom.

The wolves flinched. Jerked their heads.

"The Thunderhawk!" one of them cried, pointing.

Thrusters surged to life. Engines roared. A great metal bulk rolled forward on its landing gear, aiming to take off.

"No!" roared the marine, surging forward, followed by his pack-mates. Boltpistol and Fenrisian Axe already in his hands.

Somewhere behind him, wolves with a more exuberant gusto for drink wobbled and stumbled. Even their gen-hanced livers lagged behind. It wouldn't take more than a few minutes for their bodies and the hunt to sober them up.

Fat lot of good it would do, when their transport was mere seconds away from alighting to the air.

The lead wolf sprinted, huge boots kicking up clouds of sand. Hearts pumped, blood boiled. Lips curled back to expose wicked fangs. "Nngh!"

Through dark that would stymie baseline humans, he ran. Sped between two ground transports.

Behind him, the pack bayed and growled. Hooted and howled. Some practically scrambled on all fours, digging into the loose desert earth.

Clouds parted, bathing the moving aircraft in pale moonlight. It picked up speed.

The wolves would be faster.

"You're...not...getting away!" the marine growled, arms pumping as he sprinted diagonal to the path of the Thunderhawk. He chased its gray, boxy hull. Eyes locked on the black head of a wolf in profile stenciled on the side door on the forward end.

So close. So close. Despite the craft's building speed, he could just about reach the door...

Shunk.

The marine's eyes, replate with rage, widened. "Guh!"

Elster stood in the open doorway, eyes hidden behind green nightvision goggles.

In her hand, a large weapon with tubes running to the nozzle. The business end flared to life.

"Sssshhhhiii-" the marine hissed, throwing a hand up in front of him.

Hssss.

The night lit up bright from a concentrated beam of fusion energy.

Aside from the hiss of melting ceramite (and flesh), disturbingly little noise issued from the Meltagun as it cored the Legionary through the chest like a candle flame through tallow.

"...haaaa..."

Aghast, the wolf tumbled to the ground. Scalding steam erupted from his mouth and nose.

"Ah! Ah!" cried one of his pack-mates, as the group skidded to a stop behind their leader.

They looked down in horror and rage at the red-hot edges of his chestplate. Watched both ceramite and his insides run out like water, fusing sand into glass as it dripped to the ground.

Air and thruster exhaust sent them ducking, as the Thunderhawk pitched up and took to the sky. When the marines of the Vlka Fenryka looked up, they gaped furiously at the retreating aircraft. THEIR retreating aircraft.

Outraged howls, curses, and oaths of revenge fell silent as Elster shut the door to HER Thunderhawk behind her.

"...huh...that was easier than I thought..." she mumbled. She smiled, patting the meltagun affectionately. "I should have gotten one of you sooner..."

 

"Get down!"

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Stone chipped off solid boulders, as bolter rounds impacted sun-baked rock.

"Damnation!" cried a legionary clad in red armor. Helmeted head ducked down. He waited until the hail of shots abated, then peeked up. He raised his hand, palm-up, and filled it with sapphire flame. It bathed the surrounding rocks in light, before he lobbed it over the rocks at high speed.

Fwoosh.

"Stay still, son."

Crimson-clad Astartes huddled in the shadow of rocky crags. Rotated covering fire with dwindling, carefully rationed ammunition supplies. Balanced conservation of rounds with the lingering memory of the price paid by brothers who overused their 'talents'.

A bare dozen Legionaries, not including their dead or dying. Homeless. Condemned. Pinned.

Amid them, weary Spireguard slumped against walls or lay under sparse shade. Another dozen or so, baseline humans succumbing to heat, exhaustion, and injury.

The Apothecary knelt by an injured man, white armored hand pressed to his side. Eyes closed beneath his helmet, he muttered an incantation.

"Ah...ngh..." the Spireguard soldier grunted, gritting his teeth. He felt his aggrieved flesh squirm, as psychic force knit bone and stemmed bleeding. "...ah...sir...p-please...tend to your brothers..."

"...we are all dying breeds now, soldier," the Apothecary said, pulling hand away. "I don't trust those butchers to have shown mercy to those left behind on Prospero. Every life counts...or our culture dies with us."

"Ngh," grunted an injured marine, trying to sit up against a rock wall. "We...might just die anyway, at this rate...oh..." One hand clutched his chest, over the hole blown open and the cracks formed in his solidified ribcage. "If you get away, master...ngh...take my geneseed..."

"Enough of that."

Great boots stomped amid the group. Head ducked low. Falcon-headed staff clinked against rock and dug into sand.

"We're not dead yet," said Captain Intef, gold-faced helmet moving about, to regard his shrinking forces. "If we can hold on just a little longer..."

"Captain," said the marine stationed next to the vox backpack, overlooking baseline human operators. He turned his head. "We still can't raise the scouting party. I don't know if they're coming."

"Keep trying," Intef said, nodding. But as he turned his head away, he knew the truth. Even were the scouts still alive, chances of them finding the main group - let alone turning the tide against the wolves - were slim.

The Captain dared not reach out mentally. Not without definitive proof the scouting party were still alive. Lest any of their hated foes' "Rune Priests" overheard. It may put them at risk. At least with the vox, they could disguise their intent via Prosperan codes. Assuming they weren't already compromised after the Burning.

He strode forward, long white scarf, embroidered with arcane script, swaying with the motion. He knelt near the circle of chanting marines.

Hands joined, the three raised their heads to the sky. At the crescendo of their spell, the wind above whipped to life.

As Intef peeked through a crack in the rock wall, he felt a presence on the wind. Not one he recognized. He ducked again, and turned his head. ...who is this?

Do you want help?

Who is offering? he thought, brows furrowed beneath his helmet. If you are not one of the wolves, state your...

We'll be there momentarily. Be ready.

"..."

 

"Kill them! Eat their hearts! FOR RUSS!"

Gray-clad Astartes, bedecked in pelts and fang trinkets, charged once again across the valley between jutting rock cliffs. Heedless of weapons fire...and real fire, that sailed over their heads. The three Gray Hunters were incensed now. So long denied a real fight.

Snarling, hooting, kicking up sand. Eyes fixed on one of their fellows in the distance, engaged in a protracted duel with the machine.

Wind whipped through manes and beards. Sand rose, stinging their eyes. They braced, arms thrown over their faces.

They saw the source. A whirlwind touched down in their path.

"Dammit!" barked a marine with red hair, spittle running down his braided beard. "Not again!"

"Fie these witches and their wind!" said his fellow, tears running down his face. Teeth bared.

"Press on!" cried another, leaning hard into the tempest. "Press on! Don't falter! Run through it!"

It was a senseless plan. But they were nothing if not stubborn.

The dust devil grew and sped toward them, a funnel of sand rising from the ground. Roaring and spinning and charged with a palpable electricity. Tiny particles flew so swift, they chafed the skin just to be near.

Despite the danger, the trio rushed headlong at it. Aiming to skirt its near periphery, and slip by.

For two of them, it worked. For the third, he wasn't so fortunate.

"Nnn...ngh...RRAAAAAGH!" the foremost cried, unable to juke the funnel before it slammed straight into him. "AAAAGH!" he cried, as the wind swept him off his feet and sent him spinning.

"Damn!" cried the redhead, glancing back. He pressed on, grimacing at the cuts on his face.

"Leave him!" said his fellow with gray hair and a scraggly beard, as they trudged forward. Struggled against the sucking force that pulled on them.

As the whirlwind tossed the unlucky wolf to a far sand dune, his compatriots picked up speed.

"Tch...damn you!"

Fenrisian axe sparked off the arm of the machine in front of him, chipping crimson paint. He kicked to the air, jumping away from sweeping power claws that raked the dunes.

Towering above the wolf, the Castellax-Achea battle automata regarded him impassively from behind one glowing, blue eye.

The Huscarl huffed, then rolled to the side in response to minute movements of the weapon mounted on the robot's right shoulder.

Fwoosh.

Sapphire flame bathed the ground, loosed from the machine's Aether-Fire Cannon. Psychically empowered, the torrent glassed the dune in front of the wolf.

He growled, feeling the heat on the back of his neck, exceeding even that of the desert sun itself. He rushed around the machine.

The "Space Wolf" could ill afford to get either too close or too far, lest either those matter-annihilating claws or witch-fire end him. Like a beast himself, he did not calculate a likely safe middle ground. He simply intuited the push and pull, by instinct.

Once again, the marine tried to slip behind the robot, to strike with axe against exposed cabling, or at hoses feeding the cannon with esoteric fuel.

"Gck!" he grunted, ducking as the robot performed a back-handed swipe of its claws toward his head. He stepped back, watching the Castellax-Achea pivot to face him with alarming speed, for a machine.

A rumble in the wolf's throat. A furrow of his brow. The blasphemous automaton reacted too quickly, too fluidly. Its "brain", a witch-crystal of heretek construction, permitted the Traitors to puppet the robot with their minds.

Far too many wolves perished to the infernal contraptions on Prospero. To the psi-automata, and to...

Zzzzzt!

"Ack!" he grunted, rolling away as a bolt of lightning shot out from the rocks and sailed behind him. Burned his corneas with light and stinging his ears with the crack of thunder. He rushed to put the machine between himself and the rocks where his hated enemies sheltered like cowards.

A vein throbbed on his foreheard. He gritted his teeth, as his blood boiled.

"Huscarl! We've come to aid you!"

The officer gave a fanged grin, watching the automata turn to regard two of his Gray Slayers trudge through the sand. "What took you so long?" he growled, allowing mirth to temper his rage. "I was beginning to think none of you wanted glory."

"Not a chance!" said the gray-hair. He raised a bolt pistol and pointed at the robot.

Bam. Bam.

As rounds pinged harmlessly off an energy shield, the red-headed wolf ran up to the robot's right. Hefting an axe. "Too much damned wind, by thunder! Yargh!"

Clang.

Seeing the axe bounce off the crimson armor, the wolf retreated. The robot swung a power claw, then redirected its Aether-Fire Cannon toward him.

"No you don't!" growled the Huscarl, beginning a charge.

With the odds in their favor, the machine would fall quickly. And with it, they and their allies providing covering fire on the opposite crags could advance for the kill.

Though the Huscarl had no small amount of trepidation. Cornered animals, including Traitor dogs, would fight all the fiercer. That wisdom bore out in the smoking ruins of Tizca, and it doubtless would again here. The witches wouldn't hold anything back, for they had nothing left to lose.

Even were their foes not so sorcerously inclined, the numbers were too even for the Huscarl's liking.

Vrroom!

The three wolves retreated several paces, looking over their shoulders. Spied dust billowing in from a break in the rocks behind them.

From the desert thundered the tracks of a new vehicle. Painted gray, and emblazoned with a black wolf in profile. The front festooned with beast hide and bones, and the helmets of traitor Astartes. Silver, sea-green, and, of course, crimson and gold.

The Rhino tore up the desert, in its haste to reinforce the band.

"About damn time," cried the red-headed wolf, backing up to remain out of range of the witch-fires spat by the robot.

Vvvrrrr.

"Huscarl!" called a wolf stationed on the rocky crags. His distant silhouette pointed. "We've got more company!"

The Huscarl's eyes darted to the sky, and he grinned. "Yes! Good!"

Streaking out of the blue, black against the glare of the sun, appeared the Thunderhawk gunship. Boxy and angular, but no less impressive. Like a solid battering ram of the air.

"Late to the party, as always!" cackled the wolf with the gray hair and scraggly beard.

Gray Hunters assembled on the ridge behind cheered and laughed. Part of their number leaped from cover and jogged forward. Eager to join the fight, before it was over.

The Rhino slowed to a stop as it entered the field. From the opposite direction, the Thunderhawk began to descend.

"With this, our victory is assured!" the Huscarl cheered. He thrust his axe to the air. "To battle! Let's kill these mongrel spawn of the Cyclops! For Russ! For-"

A light flashed from the rapidly approaching gunship.

BOOM!

Wolves flinched, ducking down in alarm, as the Rhino exploded.

"..."

They all gaped at the flaming wreck. Watched in horror as legionaries crawled out of the burning hulk. Many a marine traveled bare-headed, emerging with faces horribly burned or on fire. Even those with helmets climbed out in various states of injury. With shrapnel and chunks of metal sticking out of sundered ceramite or in the softer material between plates.

Less than half of the marines inside made it out, as the flames roared and the wreck collapsed in on itself.

"...Morkai's BALLS!" cried the red-headed wolf, recoiling in horror.

"Oi!" yelled the gray-haired wolf, toward the still approaching Thunderhawk. Having to raise his voice over the roar of its imminent arrival. "WHAT KIND OF AIMING IS THAT, YOU-!?"

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM.

"ARGH!" the wolf screamed, his body shredded by heavy bolter fire. Blood and sand flew into the air, along with chunks of the marine.

"Fffffuuu-!" the Huscarl growled, jumping away and throwing his arms over his bare head. Blond hair whipped in the wind as the gunship sailed over the circle of stony crags.

"Shit, shit, shit!" the red-head cursed, rushing to escape the line of explosions erupting on the dunes. He leaped to the ground. A heavy bolter round shattered his enormous shoulder pad, taking his arm off. "FUCK!"

The wolves behind them yelled and cursed loudly, rushing back toward cover. They watched over their shoulders as wolves burning in the Rhino-fire were laid into by the munitions running over them.

Already in bad shape, the Rhino was pulverized, flaming debris breaking off or crumpling like paper under a hail of bullets. The sand around it was painted red, as dead or injured marines were popped like ripe fruit beneath an onslaught of weapons designed to go toe-to-toe with enemy air- or voidcraft.

Rocks chipped off the cliff-face, as wolves ducked beneath the roar of the Thunderhawk overhead. Bathed in the shadow of its passing.

"..."

One by one, wolves not killed outright raised their heads, craning necks to watch the gunship turn in a wide arc.

"...ngh...fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck!" the red-haired wolf grunted, rolling over with teeth gritted. Pressed a hand to his mangled shoulder-stump, transhuman physiology attempting even now to stem the bleeding. "...w-why the FUCK did those cocksuckers do that?"

The Huscarl raised his head, baring his fangs. "...I don't...GACK!"

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The wolf rolled on the sandy ground, as a power claw came down from above.

He rolled to his feet, watching the shadow of the automaton stretch over him. Looked up at the glowing blue eye, and the witch-fire building in its shoulder cannon.

Over its shoulder, the Huscarl saw the Thunderhawk hove around, beginning to fly low. Making to come in for a landing...right into the thick of the fighting.

The Space Wolf clenched his axe, muscles tightening. "Shit!"

Somewhere behind the robot, a voice cried out.

"Now, brothers!" yelled the Thousand Sons Captain. "FOR PROSPERO!"

Chapter 77: Sons of the Cyclops

"Assume disembarking positions. Landing in thirty seconds."

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM.

Air friction rattled the solid metal hull. Each crack of twin-linked heavy bolters sent sharp vibrations through the superstructure.

The intercom flared to life again.

"Twenty seconds."

Hooves of various sizes clanked over the floor, handholds grasped as the team moved into position.

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM.

Throats swallowed hard beneath armored helmets. Hands held weapons, or gripped wall fixtures, or pressed against the figure in front of them.

"Ten seconds and counting..."

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM.

The aircraft cut speed sharply. Figures leaned forward with inertia. Artificial muscles tensed. Hearts raced.

"...drei...zwei...einz...brace for impact!"

BRRMMM!

The team flinched, as landing gear gouged into sand dunes. Bodies pitched forward with sudden deceleration, arms locked onto walls for dear life.

Inertia pulled on them until the exact moment when, inexorably, the craft came to a stop.

Ping. Ping. Ping ping.

"Team, we have landed," crackled the intercom. "Prepare to disembark. Careful: there's a lot of angry guys out there."

"Ready your weapons!" barked the team leader, hefting her melta gun. "Jenny, Helga! You know what to do!"

Ping. Ping.

"Right!" said Jenny. She and Helga stood at the front, raising their solid slabs of ceramite before them. "Ready!"

"Everyone ready?" said the leader. Looked around.

"Ready!" came the response, one by one, from the team. Lasguns and grenade launchers hefted for effect.

"Alright," Elster said, nodding. She stared forward. "Open the door!"

Red lights above the wide front door strobed. Overhead speakers blared.

HERR. HERR. HERR.

Fighters aimed weapons at the door. Beads of sweat broke out on faces.

Hssss.

Light, sand, and the roar of battle leaked through the crack of the opening door. It bent down, forming a wide ramp.

CRACK. Rumble.

An arc of lightning shot across their field of view, reflected off helmet lenses. Dark spots persisted on activated, artificial retinas for several seconds.

A furious exchange of bolter rounds and las bolts colored the wasteland in front of them. Astartes and gestalts fired upon each other from behind rocks or dunes. Far in the distance, the shattered remains of a Rhino burned. Every so often, a long-range bolt round pinged off the Thunderhawk's hull.

"MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

 

Get your men to the Thunderhawk, Captain.

Fwoosh.

Blue flame poured from the Captain's fingertips. Spread out in a wide cone, driving the Gray Hunter Huscarl back. Heat fused sand into glass beneath the psychic torrent.

He cast a single glance, watching the parked Thunderhawk disgorge its contents. He waved his staff over his head. "To the Thunderhawk!" he said over the vox. "Quickly!"

Slowly, using their transhuman masters as cover, exhausted Spireguard filed from the rocky crag and trudged through the sand. Lasgun potshots taken at the wolves abandoning cover and amassing in no-man's land.

"I'll kill you, witch!" the Huscarl barked, before rolling out of the way of a swipe from the Castellan-Achea's power claws. "Ngh...I swear it!"

Another wolf rushed to the Huscarl's side. Brandished a Fenrisian axe, keen blade glinting in the harsh sunlight. A ceramite shield affixed to his other arm.

WHRRRRR.

"...take cover!" the Huscarl growled, throwing arms over his face.

"Sir!" his companion yelled, raising his shield, interposed between his sergeant and the whirring sound.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT!

Gatling rounds sprayed over the marines, chipping and denting their armor plates. Cascading over the shield, like rain.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The wolves peeked out, gritting their teeth in fury.

Four giants trudged across the dunes. Large hooves sinking deep, before kicking up a cloud of dust with each step. Two sheltered behind large, gray boarding shields.

Their power armor was of no Imperium make. Primitive, rudimentary. Gray-painted plates of "mere" steel.

Bam. Bam.

Bolter rounds impacted against centimeters thick ceramite shields, looted from Astartes breacher teams on some unknown battlefield. Explosive rounds cavitated the surfaces, but did not pierce.

Astartes weapons were not designed with Astartes armor in mind.

Two more "false Legionaries" trudged slowly around their fellows, planting their hooves in half-cover of the shields. They aimed again with their gatling guns.

WHRRRR.

"Dammit!" the Huscarl growled, clenching his axe. He looked out the corner of his eye, and blanched. "Back!"

Fwoosh. Fwoosh.

The Huscarl dashed away in time. His compatriot was not so lucky.

"AAAARGH!" the wolf cried, engulfed in twin streams of sapphire flame. Automaton and Thousand Son roasted him alive. Surroundings cast in a cool, azure glow. "AH! AH! AH!"

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT. RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

Blessedly, the agonized flailing of his arms moved his shield. Allowed his skull to be perforated by errant slugs. He fell to the ground, burning and bleeding.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

"No!" the Huscarl growled, chased by a torrent of bullets. He turned, covering his head with his arm. Rounds bounced off ceramite, as boots kicked up sand in their wake. He charged the huddle of power-armored replikas. "Rragh!"

"Is he insane?" said Olga, over the radio. Trying to keep up the onslaught from her gatling gun.

"All of these Astartes are, I think," Bertha (SAPR-N0603) said, mirroring her sister. Poured on fire.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

"I'll handle this," Jenny said.

As the bullets ceased, the Mynah trudged forward slowly. She clenched the weapon in her right hand. Thumbed a switch on her left, connected by wires to the shield strapped to her arm.

"Kill you! Kill you!" the Huscarl bellowed, face flushed with rage. Twin hearts pumping blood rich with chemicals dumped into his veins. He barreled forward. "Kill you!"

He didn't care who the interlopers were. He didn't care how they stole a Thunderhawk from the Vlka Fenryka. All he cared about was putting an axe through the face of someone today.

The "false Astartes" planted her hooves, and waited. Right arm curled back, out of view.

Blood boiled. Fangs bared. He was mere strides from his prey.

Eyes widened, as he noticed the flash grenades attached to the front of the shield with duct tape. Rigged with wires running around the edge.

"Now," Jenny muttered, thumbing a switch clutched in her left hand.

BING.

"ARGH!" the Huscarl howled, his whole vision turned pure white from the flash at point blank range. He recoiled, throwing his arm up.

Without his helmet, there were no advanced lenses to automatically dampen the flash's effectiveness. There was only his naked transhuman eyes, rendered hyper-sensitive to stimuli.

As were his gen-hanced ears. They rang furiously.

Sight and sound were annihilated for the wolf.

Only for the muffled vibrations through the sand, he realized the giant stepped forward. It was only the smell of ozone in the air that told him a power weapon thrummed to life. Felt the boarding shield slam into his weapon arm, knocking Fenrisian axe away. "N-no!" he cried, stepping back too late.

SWING.

Gray armor and sand alike were bathed blue, as Jenny's power axe divorced the Huscarl's head from his body, and the Huscarl himself from his ghost.

Twin hearts fountained scarlet from the marine's neck, as the armor-clad body toppled to the ground. Further venting scarlet to the thirsty sand.

"Good work, Jenny," Elster said, rushing forward to pat the Mynah's back.

"No problem," Jenny said, nodding with her entire torso. She raised her shield again, as more errant bolter shots sailed across the battlefield.

The first of the Spireguard and their Astartes escorts jogged up to Captain Intef. The officer interposed himself between his men and the oncoming wolves.

In the distance, the gray-clad Astartes howled in rage. They did not wait for parchment or witnesses to swear Oaths of Moment on the spot. All pretense of caution thrown to the wind. They charged, kicking up clouds of dust in their wake.

Lightning arced across the expanse from a crimson-clad sorcerer, sending a wolf to the ground twitching. Far from unmanning them, the death or injury only deepened their rage. Whipped them to speed harder.

"Captain!" Elster shouted, peeking out from behind Jenny. She waved her arm toward the Thunderhawk. "Get you people aboard. Now!"

"Right!" Intef nodded, motioning toward the aircraft himself. "Move! We're getting out of here!"

As many red-clad figures as could be managed made their way forward. Gestalts of poor condition carried by their compatriots, or stumbling repeatedly in the sand.

A Thousand Son waved a hand, erecting a barrier of force between them and their enemies. Bolter rounds splashed uselessly against the rippling wall, like droplets on a pond's surface.

The replikas following in the wake of their own power-armored cousins formed a firing line. Peeked around the larger replikas, or gone prone behind sand dunes. A handful of replikas, crouch-running, closed the distance and pulled flagging gestalts to their feet. Hands and shoulders lent to the evacuation effort, receiving words and pats of gratitude from exhausted Spireguard.

Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap.

Las bolts sailed, peppering the charging wolves. Those with shields threw them up, weathering the hail without slowing. Those without shields simply covered faces with their arms, and redoubled their pace. Taking wide potshots with their bolt pistols.

Once or twice, a lucky bolt pierced softer material between ceramite plates, blasting off a limb from superheated moisture in the body. Those retaining two legs kept running. Those without fell over, barking every curse in Fenrisian, Imperial Terran, and sundry other tongues picked up over long military careers.

Thunk.

A krak grenade, loosed from a grenade launcher, sailed over the expanse. It magnetized to a wolf's armor. So incensed was the Legionary, he stumbled forward several paces before he had the presence of mind to grasp the object with his hand. He attempted to throw it away, only for the magnet to stick awkwardly to his palm instead.

Boom!

Onrushing wolves scattered wide, as their compatriot exploded among them. Showering them in a fountain of gore.

Far overhead of the defensive line, the Thunderhawk's twin-linked heavy bolters roared to life. Hasty firing solutions calculated, while the oncoming horde was still outside minimal effective range.

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM.

Ship-rated munitions shredded the tiny desert valley in front of them. Sending great gouts of sand and occasionally blood to the air. Unlucky wolves trailing behind the charge disintegrated under explosive rounds intended for their own enemies.

"Move, move, move!" Elster shouted, waving Spireguard past. "Get inside, hurry!" She hefted her meltagun and pressed her back to Jenny again. "They're coming!"

Stomp. Stomp.

The Castellan-Achea trudged to the firing line and turned. Provided additional cover to the fleeing Prosperans. Claws thrumming in the dusty air, Aether-Flame Cannon sighting in on the closest approaching wolf.

Intef raised a hand, muttering incantations under his breath. "Hoo!"

With a sharp swipe to the side, the sorcerer summoned a wall of flame just as the line of wolves came near.

"Ah!" one of them cried, diving headfirst into the sapphire wall. He patted his head, attempting in vain to extinguish the fire. Fell to his knees, as his beard burned and his face cooked.

Those with better reflexes shielded their faces as best they could upon jumping through. Those with even better reflexes - or better sense - ground to a halt, furiously seeking alternate routes around the barrier.

Another mane and beard caught fire, but the legionary pressed on. Heedless of his smoking locks. Uncaring of the blue flames wreathing his armor or the hail of las bolts raining down on him.

He gritted his teeth, peeking over his shield as he dashed forward. Fenrisian axe held in a death grip. He had only one objective.

"REVENGE!" he bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. Barreled toward Jenny, with her glowing, pilfered power axe. "REVENGE!"

Jenny stood her ground, shield forward. "..."

"RRRAGH!" the wolf howled, raising his weapon. Las bolts and gatling rounds poured over his armor to no avail. A burning ball of azure flame, ready to strike at the Mynah.

Only at the last moment, did his eyes inch down, and see the replika poking out from between Jenny's legs.

Elster aimed her meltagun center mass.

Hssss.

Silently, the concentrated plasma cored the Astartes warrior. Burning both hearts out in a single instant.

"GAH!" the wolf croaked, belching steam from his mouth, nose, and eyes. Blood and brain boiled. A fraction of a second later, the already melting chest cavity caught fire from the witch-flame engulfing him. He stumbled forward, from sheer inertia.

"Hoah!" Jenny grunted, slamming her shield forward into the burning marine as he barreled toward her. Sending the cored wolf falling back to the sand.

He twitched for a moment more, before sapphire flame consumed him from the inside out.

"...good work, Elster," Jenny said, eyes seeking the next target. Watched a wolf, blinded by sapphire flame, get his head sliced off by the scything claws of the automaton.

"No problem," Elster said, nodding. She crawled back under the legs and took her post behind. "Fighting retreat, everyone!"

More Thousand Sons rushed behind the firing line, taking potshots (Bam, Bam, Bam) at wolves edging around the sides of the firewall. The last of the group was the Apothecary, his shoulder pad adorned with the stylized symbol of a jackal. He supported an injured marine, who discharged his bolt pistol (Bam) backwards.

Intef backed up beside Elster, pointing his own bolt pistol (Bam, Bam) toward the advancing wolves. "How fast can your heavies move?"

"They can't run," Elster said, aiming down the barrel of her meltagun. "We need a rearguard."

"Understood," Intef nodded. He fired a bolt toward the foe (Bam), then waved his staff. "Covering fire! Buy us time!"

Red-clad marines, or such in any shape to fight, joined the firing line. Towering over the replikas, such that the latter could fire in the shade. They formed a semicircular formation, loosing bolter rounds (Bam, Bam, Bam) and arcs of lightning (CRACK). One even erected another force shield, against which furious wolves battered with axes and fists.

Slowly, painstakingly, the slowest elements of the retreat fell back. The Mynah and Schnappers, interposing their bulk between stray Space Wolf bolts and their smaller compatriots. Exhausted Spireguard posted at the sides of the ramps, guiding their fellows inside and adding to the covering fire.

The Castellan-Achea stomped across the sand, taking up the rear. The most expendable asset, though valuable enough that marines tarried longer to give it time. It disgorged a plume of sapphire psi-flame to repel a pair of approaching wolves.

Fwoosh.

One by one, replikas and marines peeled off to make for the ramp. Some rushed around to the side of the Thunderhawk, climbing into the doors and firing on wolves ranging farther afield. Bolt rounds pinged against the fortified plating, as replikas and gestalts took cover in the doorways.

At last, as gray-clad Loyalists encircled the aircraft, Elster and Intef backpedaled up the ramp. Loosing flames and plasma, to ward away snarling, bestial marines.

One gray-clad Astartes, reduced to swinging a spent bolter like a club, lost an arm on a wild backswing. His armor melting under a silent torrent of plasma, before he was forced to tumble back off the ramp to escape coruscating warp-flame. Another clutched his head, wracked by hateful illusions playing on his mind. In his confusion, his axe raked the side of a brother-wolf, before he was forced to withdraw.

"Raise the ramp!" Elster yelled, pouring silent plasma into a wolf's shield until it, the arm holding it, and the Legionary's chest ran like water onto the sand. Hooves clanked on metal as she withdrew.

"Raising," crackled Tulip's voice over the intercom.

HERR. HERR. HERR.

"Rragh!" a wolf rushed the rising ramp, jumping onto it as it shed sand. His animalistic features seemed to swell noticeably before the eye. Hair sprouting on his neck and face, and nose wrinkled like the snout of a true wolf. He scrambled on all fours, boots slipping on loose sand that tumbled off the edge. Fingernails grew through the ends of ceramite gauntlets and sharpening into claws, digging into metal. Furrowed brows framed yellowing eyes, alight with murderous intent. "K-KILL! KILL!" he roared, his voice warping into something even more inhuman than his already gen-hanced physiology. "KIIIIILL!"

Hssss.

Eyebrows shot up, before the flesh from his face peeled off under a concentrated torrent of plasma. Ran like wax from his skull, along with the roof of his power pack. He toppled backwards, rolling on the rising metal.

Elster resolved to compartmentalize the mental image of his lupine, melting face, even as she felt it burn into her memory.

"Huff!" Intef grunted, shoving the smoking wolf off the ramp with his boot.

The corpse flopped unceremoniously to the sand below. Quickly buried by rushing dust, as thrusters lifted the Thunderhawk to the air.

Space Wolves shouted and howled in outrage, as the aircraft soared overhead. Watched, apoplectic, as the shadow fell over them.

They could only observe as the Thunderhawk's nose tipped up, and flew over the rocky crags to the sky.

They were left behind. Far fewer than when they started, their own transport burning tens of meters away. They planted axes in the ground and screamed. Bit their shields, and pounded sand with ceramite fits. Cursed and swore oaths of death, in vain.

There was no glory this day. No deeds worthy of song. No heroic sacrifices. Not even a single foe felled.

Only the bitter taste of defeat. Denied both quarry, glory, and revenge.

 

"You pilot her well, considering. Impressive.."

The Ara glanced over her shoulder, a shadow cast over her. "...I'm...doing okay," Tulip said, looking forward again. Hands clutching the oversized control stick hard. "She doesn't fly like any other craft I'm familiar with, so I'm...doing what I can."

"Understood," said the red-clad marine, placing a hand on the back of the copilot's chair.

"If you want, Tulip," Elster said, standing in the back of the room, "you could go downstairs. They've got a really cool robot."

Tulip shrugged. "...eh...automata aren't really my special interest." She stared out the window. "I'm much more comfortable up here, flying the craft."

"Suit yourself," Elster shrugged, turning to leave. "Have fun."

"Okay."

The marine watched the replika commander leave, then looked forward again. He pointed to the control panel. "Would you like me to show you how it works?"

"Yes please," Tulip breathed, only too enthusiastically. She stooped her shoulders, embarrassed.

The marine sat down in the chair beside her, body in far better proportion to the seat. Fastened in, and tuned his helmet to the control panel wirelessly. One hand clutched the control stick in front of him out of habit.

Pointed to the panel of buttons and switches. "Let's run through the basics first..."

 

"I've made contact with our scouting party. We'll need to rendezvous with them."

Bodies crowded the forward crew compartment. Men and women - gestalts, replikas, and Astartes - stood shoulder to shoulder or lay prone. Samantha stepped over bodies or legs, distributing water bottles and protein bars to grateful Prosperans.

Wind whipped in from the open side door. Even with the cooled interior, more than a few of the Spireguard nursed heatstroke. At the altitude they flew, the air wasn't too intense, nor loud, that it bothered the occupants.

Elster gripped a handhold on the high wall. Nodded. "Understood. You can relay the heading to our pilot. How far are we thinking?"

"At the rate we're flying, we'll be there in twenty to thirty minutes," the Captain said. His gold faceplate glinting in the sun. "..."

He looked down at the Kolibri, her bobcut hair whipping in the wind. One hand clutched the wall, the other arm hugged Elster's legs from behind.

She looked at the Captain. She didn't need to see them to look him in the eyes.

The two psykers shared an unspoken moment. Guarded, but mutually curious. Like two predators crossing paths by happenstance. Categorically wary of one another, yet eager to avoid escalating to violence. Reading each other's intent, and coming to something of an understanding.

"...I'm sorry for your loss," Intef said, finally.

Isis frowned. "I'm that transparent, huh?"

"Apologies," the Captain said, looking away. "I didn't mean to pry. It just..."

"No, it's okay," Isis said, looking to the metal floors. "...thank you."

"..." Elster frowned, patting her granddaughter on the head.

Isis put on a brief, brave smile at Elster. Then, her eyes wandered to the other side of the room. "...excuse me."

She rose to her hooves and walked away. Stepped gingerly over a tangle of prone bodies and legs. Apologized for picking her way around giants and people sat on oversized seats.

Elster watched her kneel by the Apothecary, as the legionary used Prosperan sorcery to mend an injured marine's bleeding side. "..."

Intef looked over his shoulder, free hand thumbing his staff idly. "...your group aren't normal, baseline humans." It was not a question.

"...no," Elster said, narrowing her eyes. She glanced at the Thousand Son. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," Intef said, shaking his head. "Our Legion were declared Excommunicate Traitoris, even before...Horus's rebellion. We couldn't turn you in, even were it our desire. We're just trying to survive."

"I know the feeling," Elster said, shutting her eyes and nodding.

Intef studied Jenny and Olga, their visors raised or, in Jenny's case, the whole helmet removed. Her dark braid draped over her shoulder. She laughed warmly, patting a young Prosperan's shoulder maternally.

"...I assumed they were Ogryn, at first," Intef said. He turned to Elster quickly, adding, "no offense."

"None taken," Elster said, shrugging. Though with memories of the giant, thick-headed cannibal back on Vineta bubbling to the surface, she fully understood why such an insinuation could be offensive. "We're all cyborgs. Built into our chassis from 'birth'."

"..." The sorcerer seemed to ponder this. Helmet tipped down to the floor. Then back up. "Why...help us?" He tilted his head. "Not to be ungrateful, of course. It's just...you took a big risk, doing what you've done."

"It's fine," Elster said, nodding. "While I'd love to say it was out of the goodness of our heart...we have a problem of a psychic nature. I'm led to understand the Thousand Sons represent the finest experts in such matters the Imperium has, or at least had, to offer."

"I see," Intef said, nodding. "Is it immediately pressing?"

"It can wait a bit," Elster said. "There's no danger or time limit. And...we're kind of spinning our wheels, having just come off a dangerous and...costly job. Why?"

"Once we link up with my men down there," Intef said, "we'll need to perform the job we came here to do. A set of ruins, said to have mystical significance. We must arrive there at all haste."

"We can do that, yes," Elster nodded. She looked out on the desert expanse outside.

"Once that is done, which shouldn't take too long," Intef said, "we can return to orbit, and attend to your matter."

"Thank you," Elster said, bowing her head. "I apologize for imposing on you like this."

"No need to apologize," Intef said, shaking his head. "You saved our lives. We are in your debt."

He inclined his head forward.

"Now...while we wait, tell me about your psychic problem."

Chapter 78: Boon of Insight

"A fascinating problem."

Wind whistled across the landscape, spreading sand and the acrid smell of gunsmoke.

On the horizon, a squad of Wolves beat a hasty, bitter retreat. The charred bodies of their companions wept scarlet to the hot dunes.

They might have stood their ground, if not for the voice of the Thunderhawk's twin-linked heavy bolters.

One by one, red-clad Astartes emerged from the cover of standing stones and ancient, crumbling masonry. Embraced their compatriots, and hauled up their injured for treatment.

"It's a...complicated issue, ja" Elster said, crouched down on one knee at the top of the landing ramp. She gave a side glance to the Thousand Sons captain. "I apologize if it sounds strange..."

"Your nature is certainly novel, yes," Intef said, waving his men over. "But not without precedent. Techniques for grafting knowledge onto host brains are well attested to in pre-Crusade literature. Our Legion once performed a compliance action on a world dominated by sorcerer-kings, who achieved a kind of twisted immortality by forcibly overwriting the personalities and memories of psychically gifted youths, when their own bodies grew too old and sickly." He side-eyed the replika through his helmet lenses. "I presume your own telepathic companion is of another 'bioresonant' type?"

"She is," Elster nodded. "Isis is one of a number we have aboard our ship. Strong, especially collectively."

"But not strong enough, for this wretched galaxy, I presume?" Intef said.

"Ja," Elster said. "To survive in this galaxy, let alone this civil war, we need our wunderwaffe, our ace in the hole. We need our FLKR unit."

She did her best to keep hidden, even in her own mind, that she also needed a Falke to better effect the repayment of her debt. The Astartes didn't need to know that. Not that she was wholly confident he couldn't take the knowledge from her, were he so inclined.

Intef nodded, then looked out on the dunes again. Watched the wolves disappear over the horizon.

"...to think, if those sorcerer-kings only had such cloning technology," he muttered, seemingly carrying on his earlier thought. "So much pain might have been avoided."

"..." Elster narrowed her eyes. Stared into the desert. "If those zaubererkönige had our technology, they would have abused it just as readily as our government did. Abused replikas."

"True, true," Intef said, nodding. His fingers drummed against the shaft of his staff. "Such...singular selfishness, by nature of definition, can never be sated nor satisfied. Grant them the knowledge to ease the suffering of all, and they'll bend it to further wickedness. For their hunger is bottomless. Especially...after so many iterations, sanding away the nuances of their personalities."

Elster blinked a sand grain from her eye. Rubbed it. "...so...knowing our needs," she said, hesitantly, "will you help? I know it's a lot to ask for..."

"You saved our lives, Lady Elster," Intef said, holding up a hand for silence.. "We are in your debt. Moreover..." He glanced at her briefly, waving a hand nonchalantly. "...helping others with problems of an arcane nature is what the Thousand Sons do. It's our purpose. Or...it was..."

The two fell silent, staring out at the dunes.

Wind carried a cloud of sand over a small group of Astartes and replika sentries, as they withdrew towards the Thunderhawk.

"...what motivates you, Herr Zauberer?" Elster said, turning her head fractionally to the captain. "Aside from survival, of course." She held a hand out plaintively. "If I'm not imposing overmuch..."

"Not at all," Intef said, standing stoically.

He took a breath.

"...there are three motivations here. First, of course, Survival. The second, what my Legion have always sought: Knowledge. Its acquisition. It's stewardship. It's...preservation. In many ways, our situations are similar, you and I." He inclined his head sideways briefly. "We're both trying to preserve what we can of our people, and our culture. Against forces that would annihilate us in their ignorance, simply for being what we are. We must live, so that Prospero's legacy can live."

"...my apologies for what happened to your planet," Elster said, frowning. Soberly crossed her arms.

"It is not your fault," Intef sighed. "But thank you."

"...and your third reason?" Elster cocked an eyebrow.

The Thousand Sons captain turned his whole body, to look Elster straight on.

"To save our Father."

 

"...now the Mk 3 armor represents the most heavily armored form of standard Astartes suit. At least from the front. Though, as discussed before, parts from this mark may be found incorporated into post-Mk 4 armor as exigencies demand..."

Sunlight filtered down through holes in the roof of the dome. Warm wind rushed through cracked windows, dust accumulating on the floor of the large, circular chamber.

Gestalts, Astartes, and replikas paced the outer perimeter, keeping watch through the windows. Eyes cast across the landscape far below, a desert that stretched on to the far horizon. Below, the gray Thunderhawk parked at the base of a sheer cliff, into which the vertical ruins of a sprawling, sandstone city were carved.

The last bastion of a bygone culture. Whether of human or Xenos make, none in the Imperium knew or cared to remember. Its builders were extinguished all the same. Only the wind-swept stones of that lonely redoubt remained.

A stick drew lines in the sand. Forming a rough technical drawing of Space Marine power armor, to join the rest.

Helga stroked her chin, visor up. Studied the diagram with interest. "...hmm...it's meant to attack head on. For boarding actions?"

"That's correct," said a Spireguard soldier, scratching his salt and pepper scruff of a beard. Crimson helmet tucked under his arm. "You have a good eye."

"Just makes sense, doesn't it?" Helga said, crossing her arms. "For a tank, you're meant to control so much space on the battlefield, it's harder to flank any one in the column. And your sponsons and port holes will let you shoot at anyone looking to do it. With infantry, concentrating armor at the front is only practical if you can prevent a flank. The close confines of a ship, for example."

"Or an urban environment," Kite said, squatting in the sand. She looked up at the Schnapper behind her, over her shoulder. "Same reason you pack shields."

"Aye, that's true," the Spireguard said, nodding. He frowned. "...we didn't encounter the Mk 3s much, back on Prospero. The Wolves didn't much care for them."

"Why's that?" Kite asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Weight," Tulip said, leaning over to observe the diagram up close. "To really make a difference, the armor would need to be heavier. All those thick, overlapping plates. It may be a burden even for transhuman muscles."

"That it is."

A crimson-clad legionaire stomped over, shouldering his bolter as he crouched to one knee beside the drawings.

"My lord," the Spireguard said, saluting.

"At ease, soldier," the marine said, nodding. He looked to Tulip. "We retained a minority of Mk 3 suits, for when breaching was...unavoidable. They were powerfully heavy, even for us. The...Wolves...resent the degree to which it restricts their movement. They're wild animals, who value speed and maneuverability."

The gestalt sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "...I'll never forget how fast they ran. Just...barreled into our lines, like it was nothing..."

"I see," Helga sighed, nodding and shutting her eyes. "White Mother," she breathed, "I wish I could run..."

"Your machine frames move through artificial muscle fibers, yes?" said the marine, tapping an armored finger on his helmet, over where his chin would be. "Are they insufficient to bear your weight at speed?"

"It's not all muscle fibers," Helga said, huffing. "Not with our chassis, anyway. There's pneumatics and actuators in there, too. Especially in the hips. Blunt, low tech things. Not as advanced as the robots your lot have, I think. And if the parts break, we can't walk at all."

"Elster says back in the Nation," Tulip said, looking up at the Schnapper, "if a Schnapper or Mynah broke down like that, they sometimes didn't bother effecting repairs. Just killed the unit on the spot, as it made salvage easier. Or...just left them behind..."

"..."

The group fell silent, frowning.

"...perhaps, when we return to orbit," the marine ventured, trying to change the subject, "you can have a word with our Techmarine. He's the one who keeps the Castellan-Achea functioning. And oversees the maintenance and construction of our suits. Perhaps he could suggest...modifications of your...chassis, that might allow for increased mobility."

Both Helga and Tulip lit up.

"You think so?" Helga said, eyebrows rising.

"I think so, yes," the marine said, nodding.

"We need to tell Rose," Tulip said, looking up at the giant replika. "She needs to hear this."

"Richtig," Helga said, nodding.

"Anyway," Kite said, stretching her arms behind her head. "Where were we?"

"Ah, right," the marine said. He turned to the gestalt. "Please, continue."

"Very well, lord," the Spireguard said, nodding. He began drawing in the sand again. "Onto the Mk 4..."

Bump.

"Ow!" Kite grunted, wincing. She rubbed the back of her head, seeing the culprit drift lazily through the air by her head. "Mrr...Stupid floating rocks."

She grabbed the ambulatory stone and tossed it behind her.

It tumbled, before air friction slowed it to a crawl. Joined a cloud of other floating rocks and dislodged masonry that surrounded the center of the large chamber.

Another shaft of sunlight fell from the broken top of the dome, bathing the crimson-clad sorcerer as he knelt on the ground. On one shoulder pad, he bore the symbol of a raven. He muttered incantations under his breath, eyes shut. Fingers spread out in front of him, sifting through wreathes of what, to the outside observer, seemed like mere heat-haze. To the psychically perceptive, they carried a riot of colors.

Zoser the Seer sifted through chromatic smoke. Combed through it like locks of hair. Breathed it in, allowed it to fill his lungs. His thoughts.

"...mind telling me what he's looking for?"

A replika hand batted away a stray stone that drifted too close to her face. Crossed her arms again.

Rocks twirled in a rough funnel around the open center, revolving in a counter-clockwise fashion.

Sensing the need, the Captain took a position to the replika's left, shielding her with his massive body. "...it is...a long story."

"Longer than mine?" Elster said, side-eyeing the marine. "...or is this one of those things you'd rather not say?"

"...hmm..." Intef rolled the shaft of his staff between finger and thumb. "...I suppose there's no harm in saying." He stared at Zoser across the way. Studied the Corvidae sorcerer as he worked. "We seek shards of our father, Magnus the Red."

Elster frowned, tilting her head. "...sh-shards?" she said, puzzled. Glanced sidelong at him. "Of the Primarch Magnus?"

"It is a strange thing, I know," Intef said, nodding. "After Prospero...after the burning...our father teleported himself and what survivors he could...away."

Elster blinked at the captain. "...you...don't need to specify, if you don't want to."

"Thank you for understanding," Intef said, turning his head fractionally to the side. "The strain of the Working was simply too great, even for the Archmage of Prospero. His spirit and body shattered into many mystical shards, that scattered to the four ethereal winds." He stared forward at the riot of colors his brother marine communed with. "First Captain Ahzek Ahriman departed, with a number of us, to seek the shards. Even now, several companies have fanned out to comb the galaxy, including our own."

Elster stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I see," she said, though she had difficulty picturing a man, even a powerful bioresonant master, breaking into pieces and flying apart. "I presume you hope if they can be recovered and reunited, the Roter Zyklop - your father - will live again?"

"Essentially, yes," Intef said, nodding. "We've followed omens and signs across the stars, braving the...daemon-storm, in our search." He sighed. "We...hoped it would be here. Alas, it seems to have moved on."

"I'm sorry, Kapitän," Elster said, frowning. He looked over at the Seer. "What will you do now?"

"Hopefully, Zoser's study of the arcane resonance left behind will give us a trail to follow to the next location," Intef said. "A sign, a symbol, a...riddle or vision." He reached out and plucked a pebble from the air. "If nothing else, the Rule of Contagion may allow us to divine the shard's location from the materials it was in contact with. That which was connected, stays connected. Such is the way of Magic."

"...the Rule of Contagion, huh?" Elster mumbled, looking up at the domed ceiling. Studied complex geometric designs inset with mosiac tiles into the dome.

Perhaps that's why Hip's spirit could find her way back to Circe?, she thought, shutting her eyes. Allowed the light to warm her face. ...I wonder if you could find anyone through that kind of connection?

 

"Apologies for the space walk. We don't exactly have a hanger bay large enough for your new craft."

Boots clanked lazily across metal floors. Gestalts milled in the corridors, curiously studying hydroponics hung on the walls, from which seedling flowers grew. Some gestalts gratefully accepted tours of the vessel, or trips to the lounge, cafeteria, or green room.

A squad of crimson-clad Astartes stood vigil around their Captain. Nominally at ease, but with the practiced professionalism of one who expected attack from all quarters. No matter the place or context.

"It's no trouble, Lady Elster," Intef said, helmet turning as his eyes wandered. "Your vessel is more than adequate for the return trip. I thank you for your hospita..."

He jerked his head to the side. Eyes looked to the walls.

Elster, hands clasped behind her back, raised an eyebrow. "...my lord?"

The helmet pitched back fractionally. "..."

"Capitän," Elster said firmly, a bead of sweat breaking out on the side of her head. "Are you alright?"

"...yes," Intef said, attention snapping back to the replika commander. "Apologies, I...it's nothing."

"You're sure?" Elster said, tilting her head fractionally forward, to looking up at the Astartes deliberately.

"Positive," Intef said, nodding.

"..." Elster nodded, exhaling through her nose. "...very well. I've contacted our other pilot. Sally will fly us off to those coordinates you gave. It should take a couple days."

"Understood."

Clank. Clank. Clank.

"Commander," Adler said, walking down the corridor. Hands clasped behind his back. He eyed the Astartes with great interest. His professional mien unable to fully disguise the spring in his step. "My lords," he said, giving a curt bow at the waist. "Welcome to the Nomarch."

"Adler, I need to change into something more...comfortable," Elster said, head turned to the male replika. She motioned to him. "Lords, this is Adler, our Administrator. He will guide you, and ensure your stay is enjoyable."

"Greetings, sir," Intef said, nodding to Adler. "Well met."

"Thank you, my lord," Adler said, nodding. To his credit, he leashed himself enough to only display a small smile. "Where shall our honored guests like to visit, while our commander is away?"

Intef reached up and removed his helmet.

The Thousand Sons captain was bald, with bronzed skin. He had a regal bearing, pronounced cheekbones, and broad nostrils. A golden stud was implanted in his temple, denoting a century of service. And a black tattoo of a falcon adorned his left cheek. Black eyeliner framed his piercing gaze, with a teal shade added to his eyelids.

He smiled. "I have heard...the Nomarch was possessed of a hydroponics bay. It has been very long since I've seen wholesome, growing things."

Elster couldn't help noticing the glint in Adler's eyes, staring at the cheek tattoo. Their administrator wasn't a superstitious man, as a rule. But even a studious professional could believe in good omens, by her reckoning.

"Very good, my lord," Adler said, nodding. Held his hand out to the side. "Right this way. We have also prepared refreshments for my lord and his entourage, that can be delivered there, if you wish."

"By all means, lead on," Intef said. He cast one last glance back at Elster, helmet tucked under his arm. "...Lady Elster."

"I'll be with you shortly, my lord," Elster nodded, watching the Astartes officer and his crew stomp down the corridor behind a very happy Adler. Floors creaked with the heavy weight. Staff tapped with every other step.

A knot formed in her gut. She continued staring, as they retreated.

In that last glance of Intef's, Elster almost thought she sensed...apprehension. Disguised apprehension, but a suspicion nonetheless.

She turned on the spot and stalked in the opposite direction.

Mik'hul, she thought, eyes fixed straight ahead. Booted hooves thumping on the cold metal. I thought I said to keep a low profile.

I am, boss!, the daemon thought, indignantly, voice distant and quiet from all the way at the Penrose 313. I'm being sneaky, as always! Don't worry.

Elster chewed her lip. Good. See that you are. I don't want our 'new friends' knowing about you. It would...complicate matters. And Adler would never let me hear the end of it.

Got it, boss!

The replika commander sighed, heading to the changing room to disrobe.

Mik'hul thought further, though only to himself.

...though it's not like they aren't already acquainted with my kind...

 

"Sorry it took so long. We hardly use this room."

Fluid dripped into an IV, running to a Spireguard's vein. Wet towel on his forehead. A bag of ice placed on his bare chest, desperate to counteract the lingering effects of heatstroke.

Bodies crowded the Gestalt Medical Bay. A Eule squeezed through a line of her sisters, depositing another crate of medical supplies on a counter.

A giant dominated the room, taking a proffered needle and thread.

"It's no trouble at all," said Qar, threading the needle with unnatural dexterity for such large, ceramite-clad hands. The Apothecary bent down, his black braid swaying over his shoulder. Needle slipped into a laceration on a gestalt man's stomach. "Disinfect this man's arm, will you little one?"

"R-right!" Isis said, fumbling with a bottle and forceps. She clipped a cotton bud between them, and soaked it in clear fluid.

"Ah!" the gestalt grunted, gritting his teeth against the chemical pain as the cotton pressed to his arm. "...ssss..."

"Sorry," Isis said, hastily.

"He will live," Qar said, already nearly complete in sewing up the man's side.

A medical servo skull floated above their heads, retasked by Rose to tend another Spireguard's wound. She and Heidi helped a man to his feet, before waving another gestalt over.

"..."

The Apothecary motioned the man before him to present his disinfected arm. As the marine fished for a fresh needle (to avoid infection), his brown eyes caught the Kolibri staring. "...is there a matter you wish to discuss?"

"Why...don't you just use biores-...your psychic powers to heal these men?" Isis said, slowly. She looked around. "...why...go through the trouble of healing them by conventional means? Won't it take longer for them to recover?"

The gestalts receiving or awaiting treatment, until now chatting jovially, fell silent. They looked at the Kolibri, then the Apothecary, then sharply away.

"..." The Apothecary eyed the Kolibri impassively, then wagged a finger at her gently. "It is because of trouble that I use conventional medicine wherever possible. Sorcery is a strong tonic, to be used only when no better treatment is possible or expedient." He looked down, and found a new needle. "These methods, while slower and more laborious, are safer and more reliable."

"Is it really that dangerous?" Isis said, eyes widening fractionally. "Healing with magic?"

"No use of the Warp's power, no matter how seemingly simple, nor how skilled the magician, is without risk," Qar said, nodding. He threaded the needle, then set to work on the gestalt's arm. "That is true, regardless of who deigns to wield it."

"I...see..." Isis rubbed her arm, self-consciously. "...it's just...I wish I could do what you can. To heal people, even of injuries beyond normal medicine."

Heidi paused wrapping bandages, and leaned over. Placed a hand on the Kolibri's shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, sweetie," the Eule said, softly. "You did all you could..."

Sniff. "But I could have done more," Isis mumbled, rubbing her eye. Mouth contorted in pain. "If I was just a better bioresonant...if I knew more than just how to affect minds...Hip would be..." She sobbed.

"No, no, no," Heidi whispered, hugging the Kolibri from behind. "Don't beat yourself up."

Snip.

Pulling scissors away from the newly stitched cut, the Apothecary side-eyed the Kolibri gravely. Frowned. "...if it lessens the pain an iota," Qar said, voice softening, "we all wish we could have been greater. Stronger, more powerful, more skilled, more...of many things." He cast his eyes down.

The Spireguard in the room shuffled or coughed uncomfortably. Cast their own eyes down, gravely.

Isis looked around fretfully. Their pain washed over her. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Do not torment yourself on our behalf," Qar said, looking up. He helped the gestalt to his feet, passing him off to another Eule to receive bandages. "Or, for that matter, your own. It is a rare thing, indeed, for even the greatest magicians to change the past. I assume." He smiled. "It's not as though we'd know if they did, no?"

"...heh...I guess...," Isis said, smiling sadly. She sniffed and rubbed her nose. She lowered her eyes. "...still...I'm sorry, for what you went through."

"Likewise," Qar said, nodding.

Another gestalt limped over to take the man's place. Took a set on the medical bed and raised her hastily bandaged leg.

As the Astartes began his examination, he spared another glance at the Kolibri. At her sad face. Read the aura of regret radiating off her.

He looked back down at his work.

Mental note, he thought. Return to the matter of the young magician later.

 

"Boon of Insight, this is the Nomarch. We come in peace. Captain Intef and his men are with us. Request permission to approach. Transmitting ident-tags. Over."

Against a backdrop of stars, the Eusan Empire ship slid deftly between asteroids. Gray Thunderhawk dangled off the side by magnetized grapple lines.

Yellow light bounced off the local planet behind them, from this distance a mere marble, filtered through the asteroid belt.

After a full minute, a transmission cut by static came over the vox.

"This is the Boon of Insight. We hear you, Nomarch." The man on the other end was exhausted, wary, but guardedly interested. "Can you put Captain Intef on the line? Over."

"Of course," said Maria. "One moment. Over."

A rock tumbled past the flat prow of the Nomarch. Bounced briefly off the void shield and flew off in a new direction.

At the Eule's direction, the Thousand Sons officer took the microphone. "Captain Intef speaking. At ease, commodore. We're safe, and in good hands. Over."

Another flare of static. "It's good to hear your voice, my lord," said the commodore, exhaling with relief. "Mission report? Over."

"Minimal losses, but just barely," Intef said, stoically. "If not for the Nomarch and her crew, the Wolves would have wiped us out. Over."

"Apologies for leaving, my lord," the commodore said. "I'll accept whatever punishment is due. Over."

"Negative, commodore," Intef said. "You were correct to flee their ships. We can't afford to lose our assets aboard. They're more important than us, or even the mission. Over."

"Thank you, my lord. Over."

The Nomarch navigated a tight space between two asteroids, seeking a better signal.

"Let's get you back, shall we?" said the commodore.

From the shadow of a gigantic asteroid, the mighty prow of an Escort vessel crept into view. Crimson, with a chipped, pitted hull. Gold trim gleamed in the sunlight. One and a half kilometers long, its forward length studded with a hefty selection of lance batteries.

The Sword Frigate Boon of Insight hove into view, dwarfing the Eusan craft.

"Nomarch, you are free to approach."

Chapter 79: Demonstration & Evaluation

Notes:

For those who didn't catch the reddit thread, about the shift in the direction of the series moving forward.

Once the pattern is deposited, we examine the brain for any irregularities.

Mental hands held up the fishbowl, multi-colored scales glittering invitingly in the nebulous, source-less light.

The giant made a show of stooping, brown eyes studying the aquatic environment curiously. I see, thought Captain Intef. How do you tell if there are 'irregularities'?

Usually, if there's a catastrophic problem, thought Elster crossing her mental arms and inclining her head to the bowl, it's fairly obvious. But it pays to give it a good, long look. We've caught a few issues in the past that slipped under the radar, until we examined closer.

What happened to them? Intef thought, cocking his head to the side for effect. Were they disposed of?

Daisy and Elster eyed each other uneasily.

...I'm...not inclined to practice eugenics among my children, as a rule, Elster thought, finally. Frowned. It makes me...uncomfortable...

Moreover, thought Daisy, placing the bowl back on its pedestal, it's a waste of perfectly good biomass and labor, to just...throw a brain away.

Intef crossed his mental arms. Inclined his head back. Stared at a bright, blue sky. Felt the salty air roll in off the sea. ...I...can't say I completely agree with not being selective, if you have the option. But waste not, I suppose.

Elster squatted, giving one last check on the bowl from a low angle. Look at it this way, my lord, she thought, glancing up at him. I have more than a few children with...special needs. Above and beyond simple neurodivergence from the typical human baseline, that is standard among our ARARs. They need accommodation. But they aren't useless. And each and every one offers something unique. Their contributions might be sorely missed, if I disposed of every individual that deviated from the mold.

I would think you of all people, lord, would appreciate not dispensing with people because they're different, Daisy said, narrowing her eyes mentally at the Astartes.

Intef eyed her back, then looked away, embarrassed. ...I...suppose I do...forgive me.

You are forgiven, Elster thought, rising to her hooves again. She looked over her shoulder. But as an aside, I don't think a person's existence should be contingent on utility. They're people, who have every right to exist. And have every right to be loved. She looked back down at the bowl. No one should be discarded, simply because they aren't useful. That is cruel.

... Intef stared at the replika commander.

He didn't need to read her mind, to tell she harbored some baggage from her progenitor civilization.

Or...was this simply how mortals thought all the time? Decades passed by since the captain really, truly thought like a baseline human. Before the psycho-indoctrination, the years of training, the mind-bending arcane studies, the century of warfare, or...the Burning.

Was it really so terrible to see a single human life as valuable? The officer considered Prospero, and all it had lost. He saw the flickering flames, that swept across the landscape beyond the protective barrier of Tizca. Remembered how few Prosperan natives survived. Were not every single one of them precious beyond their weight in gold?

My lord?

Intef started. Collected himself. Apologies. Where were we?

Daisy looked over the fishbowl at their guest observer, then forced a smile. Right. Next, comes the implantation of language models, above and beyond the original gestalt's native Eusan. Imperial Terran. Binaric. Aeldari. A smattering of other assorted tongues...

Aeldari? Intef thought, watching as Elster plucked a number of baubles from the void. Dropped one by one into the cool water. You've amassed quite an eclectic collection of languages. He mentally stroked his chin. ...would it be alright if I added Prosperan to it?

Elster raised an eyebrow. Really? I mean, I would be honored, my lord. It's just...you would share the secrets of your language?

Intef chuckled audibly. Hardly a secret. It's merely conversational language. He waved his hands around for show.

He looked down at the fishbowl, a sad smile appearing on his face.

No, the honor of having my native tongue preserved would be all mine.

 

"What did you think of our process, captain?"

Steam wafted from the calibration pod, as a newborn Ara took her first, shaky steps on the workshop floor. Eldest daughter right by the girl's side, patiently lending a hand. Weaved a battery of standard checklist tests between gentle reassurances and attempts at dry humor.

Daisy led her youngest to a stool, interposing herself between the girl and the giant in the corner grabbing her attention.

A knee taken, the Astartes captain thrummed fingers on his helmet. "...on the face of it, a fascinating process," Intef said, rubbing his lips pensively. "...do you...always put as much mental effort into the...mental trappings of the Working?"

"Not as such, no," Elster shrugged, leaned against a workbench. "Sometimes, especially with routine implantations like with Aras, it's nice to have scenery. The non-bioresonant units are easy to the point of being rote."

"Plus, it's only right to jazz up the 'set'," Circe said, throwing her hands up. "You know, when we have guests."

"Appreciated," Intef said, nodding. He narrowed his eyes. "But I wasn't merely talking about the 'set-dressing'. Do you always...perform the act entirely mentally?"

The two replikas blinked at the Astartes.

"...as...opposed to what?" Elster said, slowly. Cocked an eyebrow.

"Forgive me, but among most magicians, magical acts are performed with a variety of ritual elements," Intef said, tapping his helmet. "Circles, incantations, ritual cleansings, objects of power. Physical objects and actions, to aid the Working."

Circe's eyes widened. "Wait...really?" the Kolibri said, raising a hand shakily. "Is all that...necessary?"

Intef's head tilted slightly. "'Necessary' is a loaded word," the Astartes said. "Clearly, you've done more than well enough thus far. And by your own admission, routine neural pattern implantation is a Working your people have thoroughly mastered, such as to not require external tools."

"...I'm...sensing a 'but'..." Elster said, covering her lips pensively with her fingers. Her cheeks flushed.

It reoccurred to her, after so long, that bioresonance WAS Magic. Were they doing something wrong?

"Such elements serve very important purposes, though as a magician grows more experienced with certain Arts, they can overcome a number of them," Intef explained, raising a finger by way of instruction. "Certain symbols, objects, celestial alignments, and behaviors have arcane power, that can bolster the effectiveness of a Working. But they're also simply useful for focusing the magician's Will."

"I suppose," Circe said, crossing her arms. "You think we should be doing that? Turning implantation into 'High Ritual'?"

"It's your Art. I cannot speak as to what you definitely should or shouldn't do," Intef said, holding up a hand, palm towards the Kolibri. "In normal operation, you seem to have matters well in hand. But if I may suggest, in the interests of efficiency, I think internalizing the entire ritual - imagining it from the ground up - means you're splitting your focus. Which may detract from your effectiveness when it comes to...truly complex or powerful Workings."

Elster inclined her head forward. "...like implanting a FLKR pattern?"

"Just so," Intef nodded.

Circe eyed her mother uneasily. Rubbed her hands together. "...we really don't have any idea what we're doing, do we?"

"In your defense, as I've said, you've done very well thus far," the Astartes said, giving a small smile. He dropped it quickly. "There is, however, one matter where I must insist on improvement."

"That is?" Elster said, looking at the giant with mounting trepidation. She gulped.

"The complete absence of Wards is...troubling."

A chill ran down the synthetic spines of the replikas. Even the Aras at the back of the room silenced their private conversation, noticing the change in mood.

Circe chewed her thumb. "...w-wards?"

Intef nodded. "After all," he said, eyes narrowing at Elster, "you wouldn't want your newborn replika to become possessed by...unclean spirits. Would you?"

Elster shivered. Eyes locked with the Astartes.

Only too late, she realized she needed to erect her mental defenses. A pit formed in her stomach.

She couldn't sense his mind probing her own. But then, she wasn't that strong a bioresonant adept. Nor as skilled as a veteran of psychic wars.

The way his eyes bored into her own. She certainly felt naked to his perception, whether he truly peered inside or not.

She broke eye contact, unable to bear the attention any longer. "...I-I see..." she whispered, hands gripping the pant legs of her jumpsuit.

"I-is it really possible, full blown possession?" Circe said, eyes darting between her mother and the giant 'guest' whose power, both physical and mental, became more apparent.

"Unfortunately yes," Intef said, slowly. Continuing to eye Elster resolutely. His frame taut. A free hand rested on his knee...not too distant from his boltpistol holster or knife. "Even those of strong wills can fall victim to...Warp predators. Psykers most of all."

"...Warp predators," Elster whispered. Stared at the floor.

"You...wouldn't happen to know about such things...would you, ma'am?" Intef said, evenly.

But when Elster glanced over, she saw his eyes smoldering. She looked back down. "...I..."

"We've seen lots of things," Circe said quickly, pressing a clenched fist to her chest nervously. "Heard them, too. The howl of Warp storms that have raged since this war began. I-I'd like to know...how to defend against such things."

"A wise choice," Intef nodded, venturing a small, calculated smile. He looked to Elster. "What about you, lady? Do wards against the foul things from beyond our reality interest you?"

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes. Nodded. "Y-yes, of course," she breathed. "I...really don't want my Falke...or any other children falling prey to...such things." She looked at him sidelong.

Eyebrows rose, fractionally. A jaw unclenched. "Hmm..."

With the exhaling of a breath, a tension seemed to melt out of the captain's chest. "Good. Good."

A knot unformed in Elster's stomach. Had the magician simply been testing her? She was suddenly thankful, that she agreed so readily. Had she put up a fuss, would he have suspected...?

Intef turned his head away, to stare into space. "I will visit our archives, and have our serfs transcribe excerpts on the principles of Warding and Banishing. Further principles of Summoning and Binding are far too advanced, but those previous are important enough to deserve wider distribution than...the Imperium ever permitted. A critical mistake, in dire retrospect."

A furtive movement of the eyes, toward the ceiling. "You never know...when such neverborn entities are afoot. Always looking for a foothold in our world..."

Elster stifled a squeak in her throat. Stood ramrod straight.

She and Circe exchanged nervous glances.

 

"He definitely fucking knows."

Hooves clanked across metal floor grates. Picked through a tangle of floor wires, radiating from a jutting device in the center of the cramped reactor room.

Elster chewed her thumb. "You've been keeping yourself hidden, right?" she said, glancing to the wall of metal and color-shifting meat. "You didn't go calling out to him or anything?"

"Of course not," Mik'hul said, voice drifting between many mouths. "This isn't my first rodeo."

"...the hell's a rodeo?" Elster muttered, eyes watching her son pace the floor.

"You'd better not be noticed, daemon," Adler grumbled, turning to begin his bitter trudge across the room again. Hunched forward, hands clasped behind his back. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. "Not when we're so...so close."

"Easy, Adler," Elster said, holding a hand out and waving it down. "Don't give yourself an ulcer or a heart attack. It'll all be alright."

"Harumph," Adler breathed, turning as he reached the opposite side. Paced back again.

"Boss is right, man," Mik'hul chimed, waving flagella easily. "Ol' Mik'hul the Subtle won't let that guy spot him."

"But you could try tempting him, right?" Adler spat, turning his head sharply to face the daemon wall. "It's what you do, isn't it? You- AH!"

Elster rushed over to catch Adler, as his hoof caught blindly on a thick cable and tripped him up. "Easy, easy!" she breathed, steadying him. "You okay?"

"Y-yes," Adler said, hands clutching Elster's arm and shoulder. He looked up at her, allowed to be helped upright. "Thank you...mother."

Elster permitted herself a small smile. Patted Adler's shoulder. "Look, I get it," she said. "Mik'hul isn't trustworthy in the slightest."

"Hey!" Mik'hul whined. "I'm completely trustworthy! Just ask any daemon." He waved his flagellum angrily. "They call me 'Mik'hul the Trustworthy'," he lied.

"But like I said earlier," Elster continued, rubbing the replika man's arm warmly, "Intef has displayed nothing but suspicion about daemons. He knows how to ward, bind, or banish them. Even Mik'hul wouldn't risk letting someone who could really do a number on him discover his presence."

"Yeah, what the boss said," Mik'hul chimed in, performative anger forgotten. "I'm a Tzeentch daemon. The very opposite of stupid."

Adler glanced at the daemon, then shut his eyes. Pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right, right. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," Elster said, flashing another smile. "We'll get through this. It'll be done soon. Promise."

It was her son's turn to grant a smile. "...thank you...mother."

"Wow," Elster said, chuckling softly. "Two 'mother's in one day. From my big Adler? This IS a special day."

"Momma's boy," Mik'hul chuckled.

Adler's face flushed, and he frowned. "Can it, you," he said to the wall.

 

"Are you sure you can't demonstrate an 'uncooperative' neural pattern? It would make understanding the problem easier."

Brushes dipped into paint. Bristles slid over metal. Freshly filled parchment flipped, overhead lights illuminating complex diagrams.

Under their breaths, Kolibri muttered incantations still fresh and strange on their tongues. Checking and double-checking each symbol and line before painting them on the workshop floor and walls.

Diodana would be displeased. If only for the strange, non-Martian mystical script daubed all over 'her' ship. She disliked the mixing of strange sorceries with blessed technology. It was bad enough when Daisy insisted on studying the Castellax-Achea, with its psycho-reactive crystals and psi-cannon.

But at the moment, she and Rose conversed at length with the Thousand Sons company's Techmarine, over replika power armor parts. She was unlikely to notice until the Warding was complete. At least on this floor.

A shadow fell over Elster, as she and Circe picked through a selection of brains from the cooling units. The giant stood at the door of the fenced-off rear of the replika workshop, where they stored the spare parts (synthetic and organic).

Elster sighed, holding up a glass container holding a half-grown organ. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more Kolibri brains ready for implantation," she said. "Nor any bodies ready to accept them."

"And I'd rather not eat into our spare KLBR organs, either," Circe said, frowning. Rooted through a mini-fridge, checking their supply. "We don't want to be without replacements, if something happens to one of us."

"Understandable," Intef nodded, leaning on his staff. His head drifted fractionally sideways, away from the two replikas. "..." He frowned, before turning back quickly. "...are there any more 'bioresonant' units?"

"Some replikas seem to develop a slight aptitude, every so often," Circe said, shrugging. "Mutations from their normal base genetic template. They're usually not that significant, but the individuals in question always seem easier to keep track of."

"As opposed to the ones who seem harder to reach," Elster said, frowning. She glanced across the storage room. "..."

"Yep," Circe said, nodding. She massaged her head, but refused to look to her right.

"Alas," Elster sighed, digging into another fridge and checking labels, "replikas with unexpected bioresonant aptitude are just that. Unexpected. We don't really know if they'll develop it until after they're 'born'. And it doesn't help for demonstration in this regard, because it's the neural pattern that fights back, and only if the gestalt was originally a 'psyker'."

"That's strange," Intef said, rubbing his temple contemplatively. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. "One would think the brain itself would resist, not the template being overlaid. You're sure this is the case?"

"Yes," Circe said, turning her head to nod directly at the Astartes. "It's never the brain that's the trouble. It's the pattern itself."

"...curious..." Intef muttered. His eyes wandered sideways. "...the shade is the problem..."

"There's also this one," Elster said, holding up another brain. Its label different from all the others.

"The KNCR?" Circe said, cocking an eyebrow. "Is it ready?"

"It's fully mature," Elster said, tapping the cap on top of the glass container. "I've been putting it off for a while, until after Xa...until that last mission. And then the Falke business took over, which has monopolized all our time. I don't even have a body ready that's built to the Kranich specifications."

"This KNCR unit is 'bioresonant'?" Intef asked, eyeing the glass container.

"Yes," Elster nodded. She looked sidelong at the Astartes. "But it's weird. I did a test run for implantation a while back, knowing it would probably be a non-starter for me. And it was. But the neural pattern didn't resist like a KLBR or FLKR would."

"How do they resist?" Intef said, frowning. "And how does it make this one different?"

Elster patted the container. Looked up at the giant.

"Want to see?"

 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A ladle dipped into the deep water of the basin. It took several minutes of searching just to find the neural pattern within its own 'file' of the database.

The dark mass moved quickly and quietly, barely making waves. Skulking under the surface. A dark mass blending in with dark waters.

It never attacked. Never struck out with a tendril. It just evaded, and hid.

Circe, Elster, and even Shahrazad cooperated, using ladles to herd the formless mass off to the edge of the basin. Where the bowl-shaped reservoir was most shallow. Finally, they had it cornered, the mass zipping between their tools, seeking a way to squeeze out.

Almost...got you! Elster thought, aiming to scoop the evasive form.

No sooner had she tucked the mass into the ladle, that it deftly slid over the side. Spilled back in the water, and dove to the shallow bottom.

Nrr...come on... Elster thought, frowning. She poked at the mass. Scheisse...not again...

Spotted, cornered, and vulnerable, the neural pattern stubbornly refused to be caught. Unable to evade, it instead clung to the basin's bottom and puffed itself up. Retracted all limbs, until it resembled a round balloon.

Is this...normal? thought Intef, leaning over the entire group to study the strange sight.

For this pattern, yes, Elster thought, scowling. Poked the mass again. It bounced off, like a beach ball. Trying to tuck it under the ball availed her not, as it seemed to fix itself to the bottom of the basin with its suckers. Nor could she get a grip on it by plunging the ladle into the mass. It just bounced off, as if both soft and unyielding as gristle.

She considered creating a fork to spear the mass and yank it up, if she wasn't afraid that kind of violence would damage the copy in some way and corrupt the implanted personality and memories.

Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in the material world. Verdammt.

...what do you think, my lord? Shahrazad thought, looking up at the Astartes.

Intef stroked his chin, materially. ...the other psychic forms lashed out violently, yes?

That's right, Circe thought, nodding. Getting any of these out and into their bowls is always a big production. Even when we get hold of them, pulling them up is difficult. Especially when they start fighting back.

Fighting back, you say..., Intef thought, nodding. He looked to Elster. How are the Kolibri units usually moved?

Elster dropped her ladle, and summoned an iron wok, complete with heavy lid. We usually fill one of these up with the pattern, then plop the lid on. Stops it from thrashing around. From there, it's a matter of lifting them up and dumping them in the brain. She let the objects dissolve, and scratched her cheek in annoyance. I usually need a rope and pulley, since I'm not too strong.

And you said previously the Falke neural pattern and container was a dramatically different scale, said Intef, pointing at the basin. What was your plan on moving it?

Elster nodded to Shahrazad. Shah. Mind replicating the Falke landscape for us?

With a nod, Shahrazad left her ladle behind and raised her hands.

Wind swept through the darkened space, sweeping undifferentiated shadows away. In its place, an infinite, shallow sea. Overcast, with the shadow of a mountainous fishbowl lingering in the background.

The figures stepped away from the basin and its modest fishbowl, to stand around a deep pit under the water. Dark, bottomless fathoms.

Elster clapped, and all around them formed solid steel girders, each a foot thick. With great concentration, Elster built a vast structure over the sinkhole. Anchors sank deep in the earth. Support beams arrayed in stacked layers of triangular struts.

The group craned their necks, watching girders build higher and higher, forming concentric layers of redundant support. Until a small skyscraper arced over the dark pit.

Swinging from an array of anchor points in the ceiling, chain the length of whole storeys swayed. Each link as thick around as an Astartes's arm. A huge iron reservoir, for hauling molten metal by the tub-full, hung from the end. A thick iron cap on top.

Intef whistled. Impressive, he thought, craning his neck to study the monument to pure engineering.

Thank you, Elster sighed, rubbing her head. It took me a week to design this, another couple to refine the framework and work out all the weight distribution math. It needs to be both able to bear the weight and force pulling down on it, AND avoid crumbling if the Falke pattern attacks the struts like last time.

Last time? Intef thought, looking at Elster. Then down to the sinkhole beneath the water. What kind of...?

Pinched the bridge of her nose. It's not even the only method I thought of, Elster thought. I realized, given how huge and far away THAT is...

She gestured at the glass mountain in the distance, whose long bottle neck and opening scraped the ceiling of dark clouds.

...even if this structure worked, Elster continued, pointing to the steel ribcage all around them, it would be all the harder to get it all up there. To haul all that liquid, seemed impossible in just a vessel. She clapped her hands together exhaling. That's when I had a revelation: a pump.

Intef, formerly staring off at the titanic reservoir on the horizon, eyed Elster with a curious expression. ...

It was just another engineering problem, Elster said, beginning to pace the flooded ground. Waving her hands around. I just need to measure the exact size of that container, to derive the likely quantity of liquid we'd be working with. The density of a neural pattern can only be guessed at, but we can narrow it down with experimentation. Once I have both, it's a simple matter of building a pump large enough and strong enough to...

Intef held up a hand. This...may seem like a stupid question...

Elster stopped, hands paused in the middle of a waving in the air for emphasis. In the background, the structure of girders were already being dismantled, attention diverted to creating the rudiments of a huge water tower. Construction that halted on the spot. She turned her head.

The Kolibri walked over to stand by Elster's side. They all looked at the Astartes.

Intef stepped to the edge of the simulated sinkhole, and gestured nonchalantly.

"Have you tried...asking it to imprint on the brain?"

The three replikas blinked.

"...what?" Elster said, aloud.

Chapter 80: Rule of Similarity

Notes:

Story is going on hiatus until November, while I paint a bunch of miniatures, as is my tradition. Happy Halloween!

"Modification complete. Stand, MNHR-N0601."

Large bodies crowded the lower deck workshop. The glow of an arc welder died. Face shields rose, and helmet lenses automatically returned to normal view. As did four photo-receptors.

A giant pushed herself to sitting position, tentatively switching her pain receptors back on. "...huh," she said, flatly.

"How does it feel?" Rose said, leaning forward nervously. Glanced sideways at her fellow followers of the Machine God.

"...different," Jenny said, face shield popping open at an impulse. She frowned, looking down at her featureless nether regions. "I can...feel a lot more there, now."

Helga snickered, smiling as a dirty joke sprang to mind. Bertha nudged her to silence.

"Alright..." Jenny breathed, rolling over onto her knees. "...here I go..."

Instead of the distant sensation of pneumatic pistons rumbling through her nethers, she felt tension form in artificial muscle fibers she never had before.

Slowly, she put one massive hoof under her, then pushed up. Rested a huge hand on her knee, and planted the other hoof. Clanked about on the floor as she stood, swaying slightly. Arms outstretched instinctively to adjusted balance.

"Hoo!" Jenny breathed, finally settling upright. The sensation in her lower body was both foreign, and intimately familiar.

This...this is how I'm supposed to feel, isn't it?, she thought. An itch formed in deep, core memory. She couldn't quite grasp it. But she felt suddenly closer, experientially, to her gestalt. Is this how you felt all the time?

"Way to go!" Olga cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

"You did it!" Rose cried, hopping once. Her long, red hair bouncing in the air. She clapped excitedly. "Good job!"

"I-I did, didn't I?" Jenny muttered, breathing hard.

The Schnappers joined in with applause.

"Very good," Diodana said, setting her arc welder down on the workbench beside her. Four photo-receptors regarded the upgraded Mynah unit. "You successfully stand. No catastrophic failures, at least for the moment."

"As if there was any doubt," said Sneferu, nodding his helmet. Mechanical arms extended from the Techmarine's back. Four of them, ending in various clamps and tools. "With the principle so similar to electrically motivated fibers to Astartes power armor, it was a simple matter to 'finish the job'. I'm surprised your Nation never bothered."

"The exigencies of their forever war with the Eusan Empire, I surmise," Diodana said, tapping her respirator pensively.

"I think it was simply a lack of will among the Nation administration," Rose said, huffing. "They didn't think mobility on such models were important, for their intended purposes."

The Mynah took tentative steps. Turned around to look at her fellows each in turn. Keeping an eye on the ground, still distrustful of her balance. "I feel...more free. Less stiff."

"I should hope so," Diodana said, nodding. She wagged her finger. "Now, to the next step. MNHR-N0601, commence jogging motion."

Slowly, Helga backed away, stretching her arms out. "Don't worry, Jen," she said, smiling. "Come to me. I'll catch you if you fall. Probably."

Jenny, smiling giddily, snapped to a serious face at once. "R-right."

Other observers dispersed, giving the giant replika ample room.

Jenny backed up, then aimed herself at the Schnapper. Taking a breath, she walked forward quickly, arms pumping.

Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, Stomp.

"Woah, hey!" Helga cried, as Jenny barreled toward her at dizzying speed (by Mynah standards). "Slow do-"

"AH!" Jenny cried, suddenly panicking at her high speed. She threw her arms in front of her and tried to arrest her speed. Her hooves dug into the metal floor, shooting sparks.

Crash.

The two giants impacted, armored chests bumping into one another with a metallic clank.

"Jenny!" Rose cried, watching the two figures collide. She rushed forward, arms and mechadendrites flailing. "Are you alright!?"

Braced for impact and leaning into the collision, Helga's hooves slid back on the floor. Arms grabbing hold of the Mynah to cushion the blow. "Fuck, damn!" she grunted, leaning back with the leftover inertia, before forcing herself upright.

"S-sorry, sorry!" Jenny breathed, rocking back and forward. Hand clapping on the Schnapper's shoulder for support. She looked down fearfully, heart racing. "Oh...too fast...too fast..."

"Hey, it's alright," Helga chuckled, patting the Mynah's arm affectionately. "At least it worked, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," Jenny said, standing up. Her eyes widened, sweat pouring down her brow. "That was..." She permitted herself a giddy smile. "...incredible. I-I had no idea I could...go that fast."

"A wild and unwise escalation, to be sure," Diodana said, walking up to the Mynah, alongside the long, slow strides of the Techmarine. She patted Jenny's side, what passed for affection with the old tech adept. "But an impressive display of alacrity."

"Me next!" Bertha cried, pumping a fist in the air. "Me next!"

"Oi!" Helga said, cracking a wry smile, "I'm the eldest! I get to run first!"

The crowd laughed.

 

"What I see here is a fundamental misunderstanding of the task at hand."

Cool air billowed out of the fridge, as Daisy slid the KNCR container inside. Shut it closed.

Her hooves clanked on metal floor. She leaned beside the door to the storage area, hands resting on her tool belt.

The others stood around a table. Stared up at the giant.

"...I mean it must be," Elster said, leaning over the table. She ruffled her hair. "Because I don't get it at all. You want us to...talk to the neural pattern?"

"I mean, we sometimes do that already," Circe said, crossing her arms. "But, like, more for our benefit, right? The pattern is just a set of data...isn't it?" She looked to either replika beside her. "I'm not off base on that, am I?"

"I have a suspicion it might be more than that," Intef said, fingers playing with the shaft of his staff, idly. "It IS data, yes. But one cannot copy the sum total of a human being's mental existence at the moment of their death - their very self - without it carrying a measure of them in a...spiritual sense. By inviting them into a mental space once again, you are animating that person's 'Dying Will'."

"Their 'Dying Will'?" Shahrazad said, pressing a hand to her chest. She frowned sadly. "Like...a ghost?"

Circe flinched. Swallowed. Stared into the middle distance.

"Somewhat, yes," the Thousand Sons captain said. He tapped the helmet magnetized to his belt, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Your particular Art is novel to me. I don't know how the neural pattern interacts with true Geists, if at all. Our father, Magnus the Red, cautioned against entangling ourselves overmuch in the lingering echoes of the dead."

Circe looked away, rubbing her shoulder nervously. Unsure how to feel.

"I'm inclined to see these as separate, I think," Intef said, looking between the replikas. "What we might call a 'Ghost' is created by the death of the individual. Whereas these 'Shades' are born of the taking of a 'gestalt' neural pattern." His eyes wandered to the parts storage room. "..."

Daisy blinked. "...what?" she said, looking over her shoulder at the fence behind her.

"Nothing, nothing," Intef said, tearing his eyes away. "..."

"So...the neural patterns have a sense of 'Will', even so long after death," Elster said, crossing her arms. "And bioresonant individuals are the only ones who fight back, because their...'Dying Will' is stronger?"

"Precisely," Intef nodded. "They're the only ones whose Will, in life, was strong and conscious enough to effect action on the mental plane. The others are simply helpless to resist, if they even possessed the kind of instinctual awareness of being manipulated. Like blind, mewling kittens, their eyes had yet to open."

"We kind of understood that to begin with," Circe said, ruffling her wild hair. "The KLBR, FLKR, and now KNCR units never cooperate. It feels like...they fight just to spite us." Her voice went low. She looked down at the table. "...not that I can blame them. None of them asked to be harvested..."

Elster inclined her head back. "...that's...not entirely true."

When they looked to her, the replika commander continued, raising an index finger. "There's one time when the 'shades' cooperate: when they're about to be added to the brain." She narrowed her eyes. Glanced at the table. "When that happens...they seem to submit easily. Readily, even."

"Ah," Intef said, nodding and permitting himself a small smile. "I had a feeling that was the case. It confirms my suspicions."

"And those are?" Shahrazad said, tilting her head to the side.

"Consider, if you will," Intef said, gesturing with his free hand. "When you draw the neural pattern to the surface, to be worked with, you stoke a measure of the deceased's self to life like smoldering embers to flame. Rouse them from the sleep of death. They are delirious, confused, barely aware of their state, let alone their surroundings...or your intentions. Most have no awareness at all, no experience in life of interacting with the immaterial world. Then, some grasping hands come down from on high and try to rip them from the comforting dark and quiet of the grave."

Circe's eyes widened. "...oh..."

"What?" Elster said, eyeing her daughter. "What does it mean?"

Daisy chimed in from across the room. "It means the 'shade' is scared."

"Scared, bewildered, and, from its point of view, under attack," Intef said. "It knows nothing...except the hands that pluck it from the darkness and move it against its Will."

Elster's eyes wandered between them. Then, she pressed a thumb to her lips. "...shit..." she whispered, staring at the floor. "...but then...why do they give in when they...oh..." Her eyes lit up.

"You are beginning to understand, yes," Intef nodded. He held up his own index finger. "It is only when you bring the Shade to the Vessel, that the psychic mind recognizes what you're trying to do."

"Most every person wants to live," Shahrazad muttered, fingers playing with her long, curly hair. "Of course it would reach for a new body, a new life...when it knows that's what you offer."

Elster buried her face in her hand. "I'm such an idiot," she breathed. "I've been treating it like an engineering problem. Treating the neural patterns like a fluid to be cupped, pumped, or siphoned..."

"Rather than as people, with their own feelings and desires. People who can be...bargained with?" Circe said, rubbing her temple. "Reasoned with?"

"They're not smart enough for reason," Daisy said, looking over the heads of the Kolibri.

"But they can be made to understand your intent," Intef said. "Until now, you've solely attempted to use psychic might to force reluctant shades into compliance. Approaching the dead as conquerors...rather than bringers of new life. It's a mistake the Imperium made time and again, to everyone's detriment. In doing so, your methods worked at symbolic cross purposes to the function of your ritual: to bring about sacred rebirth. To the shades, you are assailants, when you should be midwives."

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. "How do we...fix it?" she asked, haltingly. Brows furrowed, frowning. "How do you...talk to the shadow of a dead person?"

The Astartes captain smiled. "By talking to them. Tell them in clear language, over and over, what your purpose is, and what you intend to do. Such is the function of the Incantation. You may find the spirit is far more willing, when the working is framed as a favor being performed. A Reincarnation of the gestalt's self. Moreover, it's simply in line with basic Sympathetic principles."

"Sympathetic?" Circe said, looking up curiously at the giant.

"Lady Elster, I told you previously about the Rule of Contagion, yes?"

"You did, ja," Elster nodded, crossing her arms. "That which was once connected, remains connected."

"That Rule is part of a larger body of principles that underpin ritual construction, known as 'Sympathetic Magic'," Intef said. "There is another rule, of relevance here, called the Rule of Similarity. Like begets like. As Above, So Below. Your ritual should resemble, or be similar to, the intended result. Whether this is crafting an effigy in the likeness of your enemy, wearing a mask and pelt of a beast whose qualities you wish to channel, drawing illustrations of a bountiful hunt on a cave wall...or acting out the successful childbirth you wish to have."

Elster nodded, staring at the table. "...I see..."

Circe and Shahrazad digested the information. Already their own minds set to motion, quietly contemplating the implications.

"...is it really that simple, though?" Elster said, looking up at the Astartes. "We just...ritually ask for the Falke's gestalt shade to inhabit her new brain?"

"Well, of course, it can and WILL be more complicated, in practice," Intef said, ceramite-clad hand rubbing his shaved head. "I will need to consult our library of arcane lore. Make numeralogical calculations, as to the exact, esoterically significant number of times to chant the words, light the candles, and ring the bells. A cradle will probably need to be constructed..."

"We have cradles in storage," Daisy said, evenly. "The baby room is full of such things, gathering dust. I'll talk to Myrtle about digging one out."

"Good, good," Intef nodded with his eyes closed, retracting a mental note about setting the company serfs to work. "Calculating the correct star alignment is probably also in order, customized for our current orbital volume. Though we could jump to another system if needed. And everyone will need to bathe and fast prior to the working..."

"All these things are necessary?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It is, if you want to maximize the chances of success," Intef said, looking her in the eyes seriously. "Even setting aside the power of Pageantry, to focus the Will towards the desired end, ritual elements and participants being in proper concordance adds a level of arcane power in and of itself to the proceedings."

"Given the gravity of the situation and the...difficulty of what we're attempting," Circe said, scratching her cheek, "we need everything working in our favor...right?"

"...I guess so," Elster said, rubbing her scalp dubiously.

It's not like we haven't been doing Magic every step of the way until now, Elster thought, frowning. But full blown High Ritual? That's...a new one for me.

"...while we're on the subject of maximizing elements working in our favor..."

Intef scowled, pointing at the storage wall fence. "THAT needs to go."

Daisy flinched, eyes darting around as everyone looked in her direction. "...m-me?" she said, pointing to herself.

Elster, Circe, and Shahrazad looked in the Ara's direction, then all frowned.

"..." Daisy began to sweat. Shrank into herself.

"It's not you, sweetie," Elster sighed, rubbing her face. "It's the brain in the lead-lined fridge behind you."

"Oh," Daisy said, exhaling. A knot unformed in her chest. She nervously turned around and leaned through the door.

Eyes fixed on the ominous, stainless steel box at the far end of parts storage. The one sitting as far from the other brains as possible.

The box with only one piece of biological matter inside.

Circe sighed, crossing her arms. "And here, I was just starting to learn to ignore it," the Kolibri groaned.

"It makes my head hurt," Shahrazad said, rubbing her temples ruefully.

"That IS what I think it is, yes?" Intef said, frowning at the unseen box behind the chain-link wall. Even through metal sheets bolted to the fence, his psychic mind could zero in on the force barely stifled within. Could feel its black and caustic nature, its antipathy to him and everything he stood for.

"...ja," Elster said, shoulders stooping dejectedly. "It is."

"How did you make that?" Intef scowled, disgusted. "Why did you make it?"

Elster frowned, thinking about the hollow void across the workshop. "...the...our...MY Nation had a unit for it, in its archives."

Intef glanced at the replika commander with mild surprise. "Really?" he said, tilting his head with bewilderment. "Complete with a neural pattern?"

"A neural pattern and unit designation and even custom chassis, ja", Elster nodded, arms crossed.

"That's...impossible," Intef said, shaking his head. He stared at the unseen fridge. "You can't...implant such a brain. Its inimical to such mental manipulation. It should have been impossible to extract the pattern in the first place, much less implant it in a brain cloned with its particular...properties."

"The Nation did it," Elster shrugged. "I was as surprised as you. But they managed." Her eyes darted away, staring into empty space. Muttered to herself, "They even made a couple, if the records are accurate..."

The captain rubbed his shaved head. "It shouldn't be possible," he muttered, repeating himself. He looked at the replika commander. "You haven't implanted its memories, correct?"

Elster shook her head. "I can't," she said. "There hasn't been a lot of time anyway, what with the Falke. But...I...can't. I'm still trying to figure out how the Nation did it. As far as I can guess, through brute force bioresonance."

Probably, the Great Revolutionary's Daughter had to do it herself, Elster thought, eyeing the fence. She was the strongest bioresonant they had, after her mother died. And I know for a fact the FDMR predated the FLKR unit's development...

Daisy scratched her head. Looked back at the group. "...I'm...sorry," she said. "What...ARE we talking about? What IS that thing? I didn't want to say anything, but it's been giving me the creeps for weeks."

The other bioresonant individuals all looked at Elster.

She blinked. Then exhaled through her nose.

"...it's a Paria, or Null," Elster said, flatly. "A psychic 'Blank'."

Daisy raised an eyebrow, waiting. "...are you...going to elaborate?"

"Some other time," Elster sighed, massaging her temples. "We have the matter of the Falke to worry about."

"I need to ask again," Intef said, turning his head to regard the replika commander. "Why would you make a Replika Blank? Or attempt to...?"

The words were barely out of his mouth before his eyes glanced up at the ceiling. He already suspected the answer.

Elster met the giant's eyes, fixing her gaze at him now. Just as he previously had to her.

"Insurance."

Chapter 81: Shadow of the Falcon

Notes:

Taking a break from my break (for painting minis) to shove out the next two chapters.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

Replikas gave the trolley a wide berth. For its size, yes. But also because of the sheer gravity of its cargo.

"...giving you the creeps too?" whispered a Eule to her sister, as they looked over their shoulders at the retreating trolley.

The Ara ignored the gossiping girls. Rolled the trolley down the corridor, squeaky wheel marking its passage more than the palpable aura of dread radiating from its cargo.

Hoofsteps clanked across the floor, approaching her position.

"...administrator," Daisy said, rolling to a stop. Nodded neutrally.

"Good morning, Daisy," Adler said, returning the nod. Hands clasped behind his back. "Where were we stowing...this cargo?"

"I'm thinking the nursery," Daisy said. "Where it will be out of the way. Myrtle has the day off, so the room will be free...for what comes next."

"Excellent." Adler unclasped a hand and lay it on the stainless steel mini fridge, placed on the flat bed cart. Eyes poured over the power cable, affixed to the side by beige masking tape. Despite the eerie feeling, he couldn't help a small smile.

Daisy studied his face. "...are you any closer to remembering why you want to see her so bad, administrator?" she said. Inclined her head forward fractionally. "If that's not crossing some boundary, that is..."

"Not at all," Adler said, pulling his hand away. Even through the lead lining, he could feel the...wrongness within. He stared into space, allowing the Ara to be visible in his peripheral vision. "I'm sure of it now. It's love."

"At first sight?" Daisy said, tilting her head to the side. "Or do you remember?"

Adler pursed his lips thoughtfully. Inclined his head back fractionally. "I had a dream last night. Of walking behind her. The stately woman with the long hair, and regal bearing. Fantastic. Perfect. Sublime." He finally looked the Ara in the eyes. "I knew in that moment, when she turned back to smile at me, that I would do anything for her."

"...I see," Daisy said, expression unreadable. Unsure what else to contribute.

The two stared at one another in silence. A quiet broken only by the rumble of fans, blowing air through the ventilation shafts in the wall.

"..."

"...anyway," Daisy said, looking forward. "I need to get this plugged in. While the inside is still cool."

"Right, right," Adler nodded, eyes shut. He clasped his hands behind his back, and walked past the Ara. "See to it the Blank brain is as far from the workshop as possible. Every tool has its time and place. Here and today is not for...that. Understood?"

"Yes," Daisy nodded, beginning to trundle forward again. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"I'll see you there."

The two replikas parted ways. The rumble of circulating air accompanied now by the sound of squeaking wheels and clacking hooves.

Adler chewed his lip, eyes locked forward.

"Everything must be perfect," he muttered.

...we'll be together soon, my goddess.

 

Ding. Ding. Ding.

A rushlight pressed to candle wicks. One by one. Bathed the darkened workshop in warm light.

Candles craft of human tallow. Fat scraped from the deposits inside living replika chest cavities. Willing offerings, from a large portion of the crew. Birthday gifts for their forthcoming golden child.

Regular candles, of animal fat, would have sufficed. But given the stakes and difficulty of the Work, no corner was cut. Every micro-advantage leveraged, every factor in their favor.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Chalk sticks slid across metal floors. Scrawled overlapping geometric patterns of dizzying complexity, and notation in script made perfect in the days of Old Terra. Before the first humans broke the bounds of their native gravity well, and vaulted across the constellations to which magi once attuned.

To guide the hands, the designs were already lightly etched the day before. But the ritual incorporated the drawing itself. An act practiced by small, red-fingered replika hands a dozen times, until they memorized each stroke and line.

Studious eyes crawled over the circle, triple-checking the work. No mistake tolerated, lest the whole working be spoiled...or worse, attract unclean spirits.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

A censer swung lightly. Hooves clacked slowly on the metal floor, circling the perimeter of the room. Bathed the air in sweet incense.

On the Nomarch, a sight (and smell) far from uncommon. The use of incense intended for holy maintenance rituals was debated furiously. Until the matter settled on the reasoning of need to invoke the favor of the Machine God, generally, and the machine spirits of the bioresonance-boosting device more specifically.

Moreover, replikas were, by nature, half artifice. "Only by the Machine God's sufferance do replikas come into being," reasoned Diodana. "Therefore, beseeching the Omnissiah's intersession can only improve chances of success. Really, you should have been doing this from the start."

Ding. Ding. Ding.

One by one, ritual participants clad in clean, white robes stepped forward. Taking position in designated circles embedded throughout the larger design.

On the perimeter, six Astartes. The Captain, Apothecary, Senior Seer, and three squad Sergeants. Their power armor removed, replaced by rich cloth robes meticulously embroidered with arcane designs and Prosperan script. Crooks and scepters and staves in their hands. Arcane seals, cast in ritually significant metals, hung from their thick necks.

Another concentric level deeper, six replikas stood in their own designated circles. Three each formed triangles, that overlapped to form a hexagram. Circe, Isis, and Shahrazad formed one triangle. Elster, Hecate, and Nimue formed the other. Elster and Circe stood opposite one another.

Each participant turned to each of the cardinal directions ("North" designated the front of the ship, though they oriented the ship to orbit facing the "north" pole of the local system's only planet, just to be sure). In unison, they traced a pentagram in the air with outstretched fingers, their voices vibrating each syllable as they intoned a practiced incantation. This each repeated for each direction, beginning with the "West" and moving clockwise.

The Lesser Banishing Ritual. Ancient beyond words, a ritual nested within all other rituals. Integral to rid the space of unwanted spiritual contaminants...or interlopers.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

At regular intervals, Daisy jerked her hand, tolling a pure silver hand bell. Kept an exacting tally of notes. No more or less than necessary. Each toll rang out clear and long in the incense-rich air.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Tulip extinguished the rushlight, the last candle burning. Thin smoke wafted to the ceiling.

Petunia completed her third circuit around the perimeter of the room. Incense trailing behind her from a long, swinging censer chain.

The three Aras stood within a separate circle, set aside in the corner.

Adler stood ramrod straight alongside them. Hands clasped behind his back. Eyes fixed on the center of the room.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

A beige plastic cradle sat at the heart of the ritual circle. Inside its seat, a dais sat. Wires ran around and from the cradle. Even these were carefully strewn such that they formed geometric lines within the ritual design. Including a set that extended out to the helmets of Eusan Empire design worn by Elster and Circe.

Atop the dais, a glass container housed the Falke brain. Its many wrinkles pierced by diodes, attached to wires running to the machine.

In front of the cradle, the large FLKR chassis lay in state on the floor. Hands folded over where its heart would reside. Unfleshed face covered in a white shroud.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Elster, Circe, and Captain Intef exchanged silent nods.

Raising two fingers, the eldest Kolibri motioned to the group.

Hands joined together in the inner circle. Hands clasping ritual implements in the outer circle.

They began to chant.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

"Hark, High Born Falcon. Be Not Afraid. Your Hour of Rebirth Draws Near."

Carefully coached Eusan flowed from the lips of the Astartes as easily as from their native speakers.

Ultimately, the subject dictated language use. The Falke's shade would most readily understand her gestalt's mother tongue. All the better to convey the message clearly.

"Hark, High Born Falcon. Be Not Afraid. Your Hour of Rebirth Draws Near."

Ding. Ding. Ding.

They intoned the chant in time with the ringing of the bell. Repeated over and over. A specific, pre-determined number of iterations.

Air rich in incense rang with the toll of the bell and the rhythmic choir of chants. Each ritualist shut their eyes. Allowed the sound to guide their lips. To guide their minds.

They focused, forming a circuit. Allowed themselves to sink into the mental crossroads.

Circe raised her voice.

 

"Falke! Awaken! We come to bring you new life!"

Wind swept the flood plains. Cracks of light filtered down through the overcast sky.

Water rippled over the dark sinkhole around which the ritualists stood. Their eyes downcast to stare into the foreboding depths.

No mountainous glass monolith stood at the horizon. Instead, it was significantly smaller and nearer.

"Falke! Falcon daughter of Eusan, may it abide forever!" Circe spoke aloud. Her voice echoed across the mental landscape, as she cast her arms wide. "Be Not Afraid! Though we disturb your slumber in death, it is only because we come bearing new life!"

She swept her arm, gesturing broadly to the fishbowl that lay in the silt by their side. Waves gently lapped at the glass.

"Your new vessel is here, within easy reach!" Circe said, forcefully and without an ounce of doubt. She extended her hand to the depths. "You have merely to take my hand, and I'll lead you to it! Come, Falke! Come and be born anew!"

The ritualists chanted in time with the bell, that rang out from beyond the horizon and carried over the shallow sea.

"Your Vessel Awaits, O High Born Falcon! Come and Live Again! Live Again! Live Again!"

Beneath the waters, a shape stirred. Slowly, at first. Then, disturbing the surface of the waters with its movements.

"Yes! Arise, Falke!" Circe said, smiling. "Awaken and Arise! Your new life awaits!"

Reluctantly, a heaving bulk shifted under the water. Tendrils probed at the perimeter of the sinkhole, slithering out and touching the hooves of the ritualists.

Nimue shuddered, and Hecate flinched. Still, they stood ramrod straight, and continued their chant. Though Hecate shivered, drowning the fear with her words.

Thankfully, the tendrils did not lash out with violence. Rather, there was a...curiosity to their touch. Satisfied, the bewildered tendrils slipped back beneath the waves.

"See? Dearest Falke, we mean you no harm!" Circe said, spreading her arms out wide. She spoke gently. "Come, Falke. Arise. It's time to live again. Your vessel awaits. A body all your own, made in your image."

The dark mass shrank. The depths disappeared. Or, perhaps, withdrew. The hole seemed far shallower than before, as the force within shrank to a small point.

Replika and Astartes alike watched, as a wet form broke through the water's surface. Like a finger poking up from the bottom of a pool.

"Yes, yes," Circe cooed, gesturing with her hands in an upward motion. "Arise, arise! That's good. Be not afraid. We're here to help."

As if stood atop some unseen elevator, the dark form ascended seamlessly through the water's surface. First, head of hair, soaked to the bone. Black hair that cascaded over broad shoulders, then down the back. The sinuous outline of an hourglass figure. Hands limp at her side. Fingers twitched.

Elster, mouth chanting on autopilot, marveled at the figure. She noted how...small the figure was, in truth. No doubt statuesque, in her own way, but hardly a giant. Quite dwarfed by the Astartes surrounding what once was the sinkhole.

This wasn't the shade of a Falke. The figure swathed in dark was the shadow of her gestalt. Her human template, in all her baseline glory. Though no less regal, imperious, and imposing.

The shade, a figure in silhouette, cracked open bleary eyes. Regarded the ritualists around her with glowing gold light.

"Guten Morgen, Falke," Circe said. She held her hands out, beckoning. "Be Not Afraid. Come. Take my hands. Your vessel is here. A new body to inhabit. Just for you."

Elster's heart raced. We're so close, she thought.

The shade regarded the Kolibri coyly. Tilted her head to the side. The expression in her eyes...curious and half-asleep.

Before Circe could repeat her request, the shade turned her head. Eyed the figures so bold as to summon her. She maintained a regal bearing, even as she inclined her head up to look at the giants in her midst. They gave her pause.

The Legionaries...she can't know about them, Elster thought, furrowing her brow. It's not possible. She...

Golden eyes scanned the circle of beckonners. Until the shade caught sight of Elster.

Their eyes met. A cold wind blew.

Golden eyes went wide. Stared at - nay, through - the replika commander.

Elster's heart skipped a beat. The impression was unmistakable: Recognition.

The shade narrowed her eyes. Shadow brows furrowed.

Elster recoiled. She didn't need to hear a telepathic message to read the shade's thoughts.

YOU, she seemed to say.

The figure stooped in on herself. Long, damp hair rippled. The water at her feet began to churn violently.

As the ritualists looked on with mounting confusion, Elster took a step back in the shallow water. G-get back!

In an instant, the water erupted with dark tendrils, as the shade clenched her fists and bellowed with a scream of rage that was felt rather than heard.

All chanting ceased immediately in the physical realm, as turmoil broke out in the mental.

"Aaah!" Hecate yelped, hopping away as a tendril smashed the water where her hooves just occupied.

Other Kolibri panicked and drew back under a sudden onslaught of flailing limbs.

"Gck!" Shahrazad grunted, taking a tendril directly to the chest. She tumbled across the silty, flooded ground. In the physical world, she would have fallen to the ground, had the other members of the circle not held her firm by both hands.

Shah! Circe thought in fear and horror, mentally retreating from the flailing limbs. W-what happened!? Why is she-

It's gone berserk! Intef thought, throwing his arms up.

The Thousand Sons came into the ritual's mental space clad much as in the material world: in robes. Through gen-hanced reflexes and decades of arcane training, the Astartes sorcerers in the circle wreathed themselves in crimson armor before the black tendrils even reached them. Such was their readiness to spring into magical combat.

Red clad bodies interposed themselves between shadowed limbs and their diminutive associates. Whips cracked against them, knocking them back or throwing off balance. Yet the armor held.

Elster crab-walked backwards, as tendrils slammed once, twice, three times at her. She breathed hard, heart racing. Looked on in mounting alarm.

The cavalcade of tendrils quieted a moment, as the shadowed figure - bent over in almost feral rage - locked hands into the shape of claws. Golden eyes stared hatefully at the replika commander, to the virtual exclusion of all other distractions. Her hair whipped and billowed around her. Writhed invisibly with power.

A memory bubbled up inside Elster. She blanched. N-no...

It was so alike to that woman. The Great Revolutionary's Daughter.

The family resemblance was uncanny.

...shit, Elster thought, scrambling to her hooves.

Intef retreated to Elster's position, as they watched a field of tendrils rise menacingly around the shade.

The shade is hostile, the captain said, eyes locked on the shadowed figure through the mental projection of Space Marine eye lenses. Hostile to YOU. Mind elucidating as to why?

The replika commander gulped, staring at the shade. ...I don't know, she said. It was only half a lie. She suspected what the problem was. Just how much control did she have over her own shade? Or did the shadow of the gestalt somehow know what Elster did? ...I don't know if calming her down is possible.

Any suggestions? Intef thought, ruefully. Because otherwise, we may need to abandon the ritual. Wait for more favorable stars...

Circe thought loudly across the gulf between them. We can't just give up now! We're so close, and she's right there!

Elster chewed her lower lip in the material world. Eyed the angry shade, that even now returned the incensed stare.

Astartes circled around, shielding the Kolibri and giving the shade a wide berth. They looked expectantly at their captain.

...well? Intef thought, glancing back at Elster. This is your area of expertise. How do you want to play this? He looked back to the shade, keeping his arms up defensively. There's no shame in quitting the battlefield.

"..." Elster narrowed her eyes at the shade. She glanced down at her hand, and clenched it into a fist. ...if I can touch her, I can dominate her.

Intef glanced back, guarded curiosity hidden beneath his helmet. ...you're sure of this?

Elster fixed the memory in her mind. Of that day on Heimat, when she bent FLKR-H0101 to her will. Fixed the memory of her time in Nowhere, when the dying Falke of Sierpinski declared them one.

I'm certain, Elster said, eyes flicking up to glare at the shade. I've mastered Falkes before. All I need is to establish a solid connection, and she'll submit.

Both the Astartes and the Kolibri they guarded looked at Elster. Her children furrowing their brows in trepidation.

"..." Intef looked forward, fixing his eyes on the shade. Very well. He made arcane gestures with his hands, and conjured an adamantine man-catcher. Everyone, we're doing this the hard way! he thought to his subordinates. Prepare yourselves!

Without hesitation, the Legionaries followed his lead. Man-catchers formed in their hands. They drew themselves into fighting stances, ready to move.

The shade's glowing eyes darted around, observing the new hostility. Brow furrowed, she bent lower, ready to receive them.

Remember not to damage the shade! Circe thought, sweat forming on her brow. Reluctantly, she conjured a length of chain with a weight on the end. We mustn't damage this instantiation of the neural pattern, lest it fail to copy correctly!

You heard her! Intef thought, stepping forward. Pin and subdue!

The thought was barely voiced, before the Astartes charged.

Snarling on an emotional register, the shade crouched. She dashed forward, ducking under the hook of a man-catcher and punching a Legionary in the gut with enough force to send him flying. At the same time, her tendrils lashed out from the water, striking at marines or forcing them to evade.

Intef rushed in, jabbing with his weapon. Grimaced behind his mask, as the shade hopped sideways. A horizontal swing, aiming to stun, similarly evaded. He threw the man-catcher up in front of him, as a tendril swung over the shade's ducking form and knocked him back.

Circe motioned for Isis to follow. They ducked around Astartes that wrestled with grasping tendrils. Circe swinging her chain, Isis conjuring a weighted net.

Hup! Circe grunted, letting loose the chain. Tried to loop it around the shadowed figure's arm as it pulled back for a punch.

The shade looked over her shoulder, vibrating with annoyance as the chain wrapped around her wrist. Glaring with golden eyes, she twisted her arm and grabbed the chain.

An Astartes tried to rush up behind. The shade ducked, kicking him in the chest hard enough to send him sprawling. She pulled on the chain with all her might.

Ah! Circe thought, as she was pulled off her hooves and sent flying.

Mom! Isis thought, before rushing forward. "Ah!" she yelped out loud, as she evaded a lashing tendril. She threw her net as she passed by.

The air vibrated with the phantom growl in the shade's throat, as she struggled in alarm at the net draped over her.

Hah! Apothecary Qar grunted, as he pinned the shade's leg to the ground.

Now! Elster thought, rushing between twin tendrils and dashing toward the shade. She bore no weapon. Only an arm pulled back, intent to reach forward.

In alarm, the shade struggled to run away. Seeing the replika commander almost upon her, and Astartes moving forward with readied weapons, she furrowed her brow in rage. Beneath the net, she raised her right arm.

The shadowed figure slammed the besotted ground, and the water erupted into a shockwave that radiated out.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, nearly losing balance in the material world as she was thrown back in the immaterial.

The entire group that converged on the shade were displaced. Cast out by a wave of water that hit like a truck. Even weighty Astartes flew off, sprawling in the silt.

Shit! Nimue cried, turning away as she and Hecate were sprayed with water that bowled them over.

Shahrazad, still winded from the earlier tendril strike, braced herself against the wave. Gritting her teeth, she conjured a chain and hooked it to the ground. Allowing her to remain in place as the water level returned to normal.

As the ritualists staggered to their feet or hooves once more, they watched the shade summon two tendrils on either side of her. They grabbed the net and tore it apart with one smooth motion.

The shadowed figure glared with golden eyes. Then, extended a hand.

From the ineffable depths, a shadowed spear erupted. She grasped its shaft, and held it aloft. Face turning to either side, eyeing the aggressors.

Elster, panting in the material world, rested on one knee. Staring at the armed shade, she gulped.

Götterdämmerung!

Chapter 82: Fury of the Falcon

"What's happening?"

A full minute passed since the ritualists stopped chanting. Their faces contorted in stress, fear, and concentration. Every few seconds a replika gasped, grunted, or yelped in fear or pain. Sweat poured down their faces.

Veterans of psychic wars, the Astartes remained stoic. Save the occasional twitch, clenched jaw, or furrowed brow. Less lacking the psychic might to act, and more strained by the act of restraining their force.

Adler and the Aras stared at the circle, dumbfounded.

"Is something wrong?" Adler said, grimacing. A bead of sweat broke out on his brow. He leaned forward fractionally, pressing a hand to his chest. "Someone say something!"

"R-resisting," Elster muttered, gritting her teeth.

"What do you mean 'resisting'?" Adler barked, stamping his hoof on the metal floor.

"...mrr..." Intef grunted, eyes clasped shut. "A moment. We must concentrate, or the working will be lost."

"Oh my," Petunia said, rubbing her cheek. She frowned, rocking the incense burner back and forth as it dangled from the chain at her side. She brushed a magenta lock of hair from her face.

"Looks like it's not going well," Tulip said, crossing her arms. She turned to Daisy. "Does it often get this bad?"

"This situation is already non-standard for implantation procedures, in the extreme," Daisy said flatly, shrugging. "If I had to guess, I'd say the neural pattern is resisting even harder now, if even a whole group of Sorcerers are having trouble."

"Verdammt," Adler said, pressing hand to his face. He slid it up, slicking back his hair, teeth gritted. "Verdammt! Why is this so difficult?"

Heart racing, he stared at the ritualists. He raised a hoof, making to trudge forward.

Daisy extended her arm, pressing a hand to the administrator's chest. "Don't leave the circle," she said flatly, side-eyeing him. "They said it could be disastrous."

"Tch," Adler grunted, glaring at the eldest Ara. "It can't be that bad! It's just a few lines on the floor!"

"Those lines allow a sorcerer to alter the fabric of reality," Daisy said, narrowing her eyes. "With this many bioresonant adepts of high caliber at play in the same place, with this high of stakes, you don't want to risk fucking it up." Eyes observing the agitated administrator, Daisy elected to quickly change tack. "Plus..." she said, mind racing to form her thoughts into coherent words, "...why...no, what do you think you'll accomplish, that they can't? What will you leaving the circle and going over there do?"

"Well, that's..." Adler started, blustering and glaring at the Ara. He looked over at the ritual in progress, mind racing. "...I mean..."

He scratched his head angrily, sweat tracking on his fingers. "...I..."

She was correct, of course. What WAS his plan?

Finally, he pursed his lips. "...the Falke...I need to talk to her. She'll listen to me."

The Aras all raised their eyebrows, expressions otherwise unreadable.

"What makes you say that?" Tulip said, tilting her head to the side.

"Yeah," Petunia said, throwing her hands up in a shrug. "What makes you think she'll even know you?"

"B-because I..." Adler said, sputtering. "...tch...she...I...I just know it, alright!" He threw his hands out to the side. "We share a bond, she and I. If anyone can reach her, I can."

"Well, if you can project yourself into that 'private party'," Daisy said, pointing a finger lazily at the circle of people, "be my guest. But I can't help you. I'm not strong enough to jack in without a helmet, and they'll all be busy. So if you don't have a way to get in, just stay put in the circle."

Adler looked back and forth between the ritualists and Daisy. Growing more visibly agitated by the second. He chewed the end of his thumb, sweat drops sliding how his brow.

"...verdammt..."

 

Ugh! Beware the spear!

Crimson boots splashed heavily. A giant form retreated, gauntleted hand pressed against his side. A bead of blue smoke leaked from a puncture in his psychic armor. Massaging the spot, the Astartes willed the armor smooth again.

Shadowed arm swung shadowed spear, as the shade pivoted on the spot.

Clank.

Apothecary Qar retreated, his man-catcher knocked away. Damnation!, he thought, ruefully eyeing the shade.

A pair of chains swung forth, lines extending as they flew. Cast forward by heavy weights, to snare their quarry.

The pseudo-Falke ducked the first chain, then planted her spear in the silty, flooded ground. The second chain coiled around the shaft.

Gold eyes shining, the shade pulled her spear up, and yanked back with her whole arm.

Oh no! Hecate thought, eyes wide. Before she could left go of the chain, she was pulled off her hooves and sent flying. Scheisse!

Hecate! Elster screamed, dashing around an Astartes, toward the center of the melee.

Oof! Hecate thought, before clapping hands on the forearm that clutched her neck. Ah! Ah! she thought, watching in terror as the shade raised her spear.

She leveled the speartip at the Kolibri's heart.

NO! Elster thought, running within steps of the shade. Before her outstretched hand could reach, a tendril whipped up and smacked the replika commander in the chest. "GAH!" she grunted, tumbling ass over teakettle.

Help me! Hecate exclaimed, watching her assailant refocus on her. Eyes fixed on the shadowed spear as it pointed to her chest. Help me, help me, hel-

Two chains flew out, wrapping around the shade's wrist. The shade flinched, gold eyes looking incensed over her shoulder.

Get. Away. From her! Isis thought, tugging on a chain with both arms. Nimue stood at her side, digging hooves into the silt as she struggled with her own chain.

Now! thought Intef, rushing with three other Astartes, man-catchers brought to bear. He thrust his weapon at the figure's neck.

Narrowing her eyes, the shade ducked, then sidestepped towards the struggling pair of Kolibris to grant herself slack. Another man-catcher sailed under the arm holding Hecate.

A tendril shot up, knocking the third Astartes back. The shade dodged Intef's downward thrust, stomping on the shaft with her...foot?

Long, dark strands of hair, writhing invisibly with power, lashed out in all directions. Blinded two of the Astartes.

"AGH!" Hecate yelped aloud, as the shade tossed her bodily across the shallow sea, to collide with her sisters. They cried out in alarm, and fell in a heap. Chains slipped from their grasps.

Unbound, the shade ducked under the raised arm of an Astartes. With a single motion, she tossed her shadowed spear to her other hand, and hooked it under his feet. He toppled hard, splashing water like a broad stone in a pond. Her main hand clutched the twin chains wrapped around it. They turned shadowy as she dashed out from the circle of giants.

Intef tried to pursue, but raised his man-catcher defensively. The dark chains lashed out at him, sparking against the shaft of his weapon.

Come on! Elster grunted, sneaking around behind the cover of an Astartes aiming to box the shade in. The replika commander rushed forward, staggering sideways as she dodged a probing tendril. Come on! We're not trying to hurt you! Just- SCHEISSE!

She leaned back, as the shadowed spear thrust at her. Only by a giant, crimson-clad hand pulled her back was her face not impaled.

Down the shaft, Elster could only stare at the shining gold eyes. Filled with rage. Filled with...hate.

She was becoming more sure who the neural pattern's gestalt was. And more sure that she, on some level, knew what Elster did.

Get back! thought the Astartes, interposing himself between the replika commander and the shade. Raised his man-catcher defensively.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

He batted the spear away, trying to hold the shade's attention. He watched Captain Intef rush up behind her.

Perhaps the shade saw the minute movements of the giant's helmet. Perhaps her battlefield awareness was simply that good. She took a small glance over her shoulder, then swept the chains in a circular motion around her.

Tch! Troublesome ghost! Intef thought, as the giants arrayed around her took a step back. ...wait!

The shade ran forward, knocking the forward legionary's weapon aside and jumped. Kicked off the giant's chestplate and jumped backward in the air.

Oof! the Astartes thought, struggling to catch himself, lest he crush the replika commander beneath his body.

Intef watched the shade sail over his head, neck aching with the motion. Too late, he saw the shadow chains whipped around his neck.

Captain! Qar thought, rushing forward along with another Astartes. Their way was slowed by a pair of swinging tendrils. Overhead, another legionary flailed about, wrestling with another tendril that held him aloft.

"Ngh!" Intef grunted, the chains gone taut around the shaft of his man-catcher as it hooked within the loop. He used all his mental strength to prevent the shadows from choking him. H-hurry! She's going to-

"GAH!"

Looking down, he saw the black speartip thrust through his chest. Blue smoke billowed out.

Intef! Elster thought, scrambling under a tendril and running forward. Teeth gritted, she conjured a sword. Its crossguard bearing the feathery wings of the Dark Angels legion. Get off him!

Elster had to be careful. She couldn't risk hurting the shade, when they were so close. But she couldn't be sure what kind of damage the shade could do to the captain on the psychic plane.

The shade side-eyed the replika commander, narrowing her eyes in disdain. With one motion, she pulled the spear from the legionary's back and swung it around.

Scheisse! Elster thought, planting her hooves and batting the spear away. Took another step back, dodging or parrying the shadowed weapon as it swiped or thrust. Watched the shade circle around the captain as she continued to pull on the chain with her other hand.

Seizing an opening, Elster parried a spearthrust high and dove forward. Free hand grasping wildly for the shadowed figure. Come on!

On some level wary of the replika commander's touch, the shade loosened her grip on the chain, feeding it more slack as she side-stepped. Her hair whipped around, forcing Elster to dive forward.

Elster! Circe thought, looking over from where she and Shahrazad wrestled with chains to free a captured legionary.

Verdammt! Elster thought, stumbling forward. She peeked over her shoulder, hopping another step to dodge the whipping locks. Thinking quickly, already ducked under the chain, she pivoted, hooves splashing as she raised her sword.

Shing.

The blade cleaved the chains, sending the shade stumbling sideways, off-balance.

Grrgh! Intef thought, using his man-catcher to pull the slack chains free from his neck. He stumbled away, hand clutching a chest that weeped blue smoke.

Are you okay? Elster thought, turning to face the shade. Glanced furtively to the Thousand Sons captain.

It's not serious, Intef thought, struggling to her side. Man-catcher raised defensively. Get her! he commanded to the group. Quickly!

Elster and three Astartes rushed the unbalanced shade.

Gold eyes snapped to attention. With a furrowed brow, the shade banished what remained of her stolen chains and two-handed her spear. Ducked down and dipped the speartip beneath the shallow water.

Splash.

"Ah!" Elster grunted, as a strong flick of the spear sent a splash of water at her. It knocked her off her feet, such was the force behind it.

With a similar swing, the shade repelled the Astartes behind her with unnaturally strong splashes of water.

Ngh! We have her now! Apothecary Qar thought, shaking water from his helmet and gripping his man-catcher.

Go! Intef thought, the two Astartes officers rushing the shade.

Hair rippling with rage, the shade raised her spear high.

Elster's eyes widened. Watch out!

The blunt end of the spear came down.

SPLOOOSH!

Not again! Intef thought, as a huge shockwave radiated out from the shade. Water slammed into the Astartes, knocking them - and everyone else in the vicinity - off their feet/hooves.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIIIIT! Elster thought, unsuccessfully attempting to outrun the wave. She felt the smack of water on her back, as if it were real. Stung hard and cold. She went flying.

"Ah!" Nimue cried, as she and the other Kolibri were unmoored from the silty ground and rushed outward on a crashing wave of water.

The sea roared, as spray filled the air.

When the waves finally settled, replika and Astartes alike scrambled up from a prone position. Wiped water and silt from their faces, or coughed violently. One by one, they looked toward the center.

Hair rippling in the air, the stately figure leaned on her spear. Gold eyes fixed on Elster. Had she any need to breath, she would have panted.

Around her, more and more black tendrils erupted from the water. Menacing the air with palpable contempt.

Intef rose to his feet. Is it even possible to best her? he thought, forlornly.

...are the Legiones Astartes not strong enough? Elster chided, supporting her weight on one knee. She side-eyed the captain.

It's not a matter of strength, Intef thought, pressing a hand to his chestplate. With an exercise of will, he forced both entry and exit wound closed. We can't bring our full strength to bear, if it means hurting her. And as her subconscious Will is stoked by conflict, she'll only bring more of her power to the fore. Soon, it may not be possible to force her at all.

Elster gulped, then narrowed her eyes. She studied the forest of black tendrils circling their prey.

Her head tipped fractionally back. First...I need a distraction...

Intef nodded reluctantly. He turned his head to face the replika commander. We can do that. And...?

Elster met his eye lenses. ...second...how strong are you in this place?

 

Rrragh!

Boots and hooves splashed water. Man-catchers, chains, and nets held aloft. Mental voices raised in a guttural cry.

With resolute determination, or terrified reluctance, they charged. All at once.

When they reached the edge of the shade's sphere of influence, the tendrils lashed out. Water splashed as they slammed into the ground or smacked into crimson plate. Weapons batted the probing appendages away.

Don't stop! Qar thought, stepping on a tendril and leaping over. Don't stop! Make it count!

Shit, fuck, ass, bitch! Nimue whined, ducking under one tendril and hopping over another. Net trailing behind her. This isn't worth it!

Just keep going! Circe thought, conjuring a staff and smacking a tendril repeatedly. She entangled another, and ran to keep pace with her Astartes guard. We're almost...there!

Isis wrapped a chain around a black appendage, then willed a boulder into existence at the end of it. The whipping tendril flopped over, struggling to worm its way out. She created a man-catcher of her own and dodged around another tendril.

Head whipping back and forth, golden eyes glowered at each assailant in turn. She stood tall, spear clenched in both hands. As the aggressors drew closer, she narrowed her eyes.

Tendrils on the periphery slipped back into the water. Then, they reappeared closer to the shade. Sprang suddenly from the deep, and reaching out.

Dammit! Qar thought, struggling against a limb that grasped his man-catcher. Then, another rushed out and wrapped around his chest. Confound it! Hurry!

One by one, the tendrils overwhelmed the ritualists.

Ah! No! Stop! Shahrazad thought, falling forward, as a tendril pulled on her leg. She batted it with a conjured club, until another tendril seized her wrist.

Help me! Hecate thought, lifted bodily into the air by a tendril around her waist. Legs kicked impotently.

Elster! Circe thought loudly, as she engaged in tug of war with a tendril over her staff. She looked over her shoulder in alarm, as her Astartes defender was buried in black limbs. Do it now!

The shade looked dubiously at Circe. To what degree was she cognizant of the meaning of Circe's words? None could say. Least of all the shade. Delirious, angry, half-awake. Like one newly roused from sleep.

But there was one the shade hated above all. Gold eyes darted around. Seeking. She now feared that woman's touch, though she knew not why. Feared and resented.

Where? Where was the traitorous LSTR unit?

In frustration, the shade narrowed her eyes and raised her spear high. Acted on impulse. Or perhaps...on some distant direction.

SPLOOSH!

With a slam of her spear, the shade summoned another tidal wave. Water rushed out in an instant.

No you don't! thought an Astartes. He summoned a gleaming gold khopesh and slammed it into the ground. Braced just as the wave slammed into him.

Aaaaagh! Nimue thought, as she and everyone else were carried off by the slamming force. I hate this!

The landscape roared with the tidal force, that radiated out from the shade.

NOW! Elster thought, bracing.

Got it! Intef thought. He stepped forward, putting all his mental weight into the throw.

Sent the package flying.

The shade stood up, hair whipping in ephemeral wind. Gold eyes flicked around, seeking her target.

Only through the rush of air did she snap her head up.

Aaaaagh! Elster thought, arcing high over the crest of the retreating tidal wave. Legs ran limply in the air. Black hair whipped behind her.

The shade's eyes widened. Met the glare of the replika commander.

You will be born, and you'll fucking like it! Elster thought, leaning forward. As she entered a collision course with the shade, she extended her arm out.

She came within a hair's breadth of the shade's face.

...

Gold eyes blinked.

Fingers curled and stretched, trying to inch forward and touch the shadowed forehead.

"Ngh...n-no..." Elster grunted, gritting her teeth. She lunged her arm, once. Twice.

The tendril wrapped around her midsection held her firmly in place. All she could do was hang in mid-air, impotently swiping at the face just out of reach.

"..." The shade narrowed her eyes at the replika commander.

"..." Elster took a ragged breath, piercing eyes faltering. ...I...I'm sorry..., she lied.

With a single flick, the tendril tossed the replika commander away.

Aaaagh! Elster thought, as she tumbled through the air, to land inelegantly in the water several meters away.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

HAH!

The shade threw her spear up in time to intercept a khopesh. Her knees buckled under the force. Gold eyes wide.

First Squad Sergeant Bebnum, armor soaking wet, bore down on the shadowed figure with his full psychic weight. His khopesh sparked as it scrapped across the shaft of the shadowed spear. He breathed hard, twin hearts racing. In the physical world, his lips muttered a battle incantation, focusing his mind.

Bebnum! Intef thought, running forward across the shallow sea. Remember what we're here for!

Don't...worry... Bebnum thought, pushing the shade away with his weapon. He took a combat stance. I haven't forgotten.

Incensed though he was, Bebnum knew better to harm the precious neural pattern. Or else their whole effort would be in vain. He wasn't a feral Wolf or a blood-mad World Eater. He was an Astartes of the Thousand Sons. A professional.

Still, among the squad sergeants, he was a close-combat specialist. Closest the company of scholars and sorcerers had to a duelist. Not he an Emperor's Children savant. But he knew well his way around a blade.

As tendrils writhed all around them, aiming to strike, the shade's aggression took the lead. She thrust with her spear, aiming for the heart. Or one of them.

Bebnum pivoted to the side and caught the spear, mid-thrust. He parried it away, then raised his blade high with both hands.

RRRAGH!

Recoiling in fear at the sudden ferocity - for until now she only knew the giants holding back - the shade frantically pulled her spear back and threw up an overhead block.

The blade cleaved the shadowed shaft in twain.

The shallow sea parted behind her.

She stumbled back in shock, waters flowing back in to lap at her feet. Gold eyes looked in confusion at her bisected, dissolving spear.

Now! Bebnum thought, reaching with his offhand.

The shade jolted, too slow to withdraw her arm before the giant, crimson hand clasped on her right wrist.

I've got you! Bebnum thought, smiling. You're not getting away again!

She struggled against his grip, then narrowed her eyes.

Tendrils rushed in from behind the legionary and coiled around his legs, midsection, arm, and neck. Tried to pull him away.

Bebnum did not yield. He pulled against the grasping limbs, leaning forward. No...that won't...work this time...

The tendril pulled harder, but the shade stumbled forward as the Astartes was dragged back. Even as the black appendages tried to strangle him, he would not let go.

C-come on! Bebnum thought, crying out. While I've...got her...

Shadowed head jerked around, gold eyes spying Astartes and replika gradually converge.

Just hold her! Elster thought, sprinting across the shallow sea. I'll be right there!

The shade narrowed her eyes at the legionary, and grasped his gauntlet with her offhand. Tried to pry it free.

No... Bebnum thought, straining his psychic might against the dead woman's dying will. He gritted his teeth. A lump formed in his throat. He thought of Prospero. ...I won't...lose...not...again...

Badum.

He flinched.

Apothecary Qar came to a halt. Wait...Bebnum, no! Don't push yourself!

But it was too late. Bebnum felt his hearts skip a beat. Felt a surge of psychic energy, slipping beyond his control.

No, no, no, no, No, NO! he thought.

He felt his flesh change.

 

"AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!"

The workshop erupted into panicked screams and stomping feet. The circle of hands broke instantly, as did the ritual circle on the floor.

Stomp. Stomp, stomp.

"Ah! ARGH!"

"What going on!?" Elster cried, looking around frantically. Her eyes widened.

"What the fuck is-!?" Adler barked, pointing a finger.

"AAAAAAGH!"

"Bebnum!" Qar yelled, bronzed face going pale. He rushed around the circle. "No!"

"Not here!" cried Zoser. "Not now!"

Intef left the circle, all thoughts of maintaining the sanctity of the wards forgotten. Candles toppled, spilling liquid tallow.

"Ah! Ah! ARGH! H-help me!"

Bebnum staggered into a worktable bolted to the wall, face covered in a cold sweat. Eyes locked at his outstretched limb.

He didn't have a left arm anymore. Merely a discordant mass of writhing tentacles, rippling nodules, jutting quills, and iridescent feathers. His flesh ran like wax, shown in every hue of the rainbow.

"Hold him!" Qar barked, rushing to his side. "Bebnum, raise it up! Quickly!"

Bebnum, lower lip quivering, allowed his battle brothers to grab his shoulders and one, good arm. He swallowed, and presented the rebellious appendage.

There was no hesitation. The hand was already lost. His elbow would succumb soon.

The Apothecary muttered words of power, and clapped his hands together. Lightning cracked between them. From his palm, he drew forth a blade of pure, transparent force.

Shing!

In one motion, Qar sliced the Sergeant's arm off, just below the elbow. It took precious inches of unblemished flesh in the bargain, but there was nothing for it. The writhing mass, once Bebnum's offhand, tumbled to the metal floor.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Nimue cried, digging fingers into her messy blond hair. She fell backwards to the floor and crawled back.

Isis merely stared, horrified and transfixed, at the severed, gen-hanced meat in open revolt.

"Get clear!" Intef yelled. When his subordinates moved aside, dragging their bleeding battle brother with them, the captain pointed his hand at the gibbering mass of multi-colored tendrils, mouths, and eyes. He spoke a word of power.

Fwoosh!

Sapphire flame shot from Intef's hand, engulfing the living transgression.

It screamed.

"EEEEEEEEEEE!"

"..."

The crowd stared in horror, as warp-flame consumed the writhing, muttering flesh.

Only Qar's eyes turned away, as he frantically examined Bebnum for further corruption. "...h-he's clear. It's over."

"W-wh-what the fuck was that!?" Adler shouted, pointing again. "Is that...I don't..."

"It's nothing," Intef said sharply, not looking at the administrator. "The problem is dealt with. Put it out of your minds."

"W-was...was that a result of leaving the circle?" Petunia said, pointing a shaky finger at the blue fire. "D-does that..."

The Astartes fell silent. They exchanged furtive glances.

Elster removed her helmet, staring at the fire. At the sparks of multi-colored light that flew off as the meat turned to ash.

"...that's..." she said, slowly. Eyes drifted to the captain.

Captain Intef met her gaze. His eyes were hard.

Yeah, thought Mik'hul, distantly. His voice tinged with an amused chuckle It's what you think it is. More of the Changer of Ways's handiwork.

Replika and Astartes shared that stare.

Suddenly, Intef's eyes widened. "Look ou-!"

Elster felt the shadow fall over her before he even finished. She jerked her head over her shoulder.

CRASH.

"Aagh!" screamed multiple Kolibri.

"Shit!" yelled Qar, throwing himself in front of the injured battle brother. It availed them all nothing.

"Get down!" Daisy cried, mechandendrites wrapping around her sisters. She grabbed Adler's shoulder and pulled them all down to the floor.

"Argh!" Elster grunted, as she was thrown bodily across the room. Helmet clutched in her hands, the wires feeding to the central machine snapped. Sparks shot out.

She sank to the floor, pressed against the wall. Gritted her teeth, as pain zipped up her back. Her eyes shot up, and widened in shock. "...no..." she whispered.

Shadowy tendrils whipped around the room. One by one, Astartes and replika were seized and lifted. Slammed against walls, floor, and ceiling.

"Ah! Not again!" Hecate screamed, vainly clawing at the tendril that pinned her to the storage fence.

"Shit...fuck..." Circe grunted, eyes clasped shut. They peeked open, and she flinched. "...w-w-wait...no, that's not..."

Hesitantly, Adler removed Daisy's protective hand and poked his head up. Eyed first the tendrils writhing mere inches from his head, then at their source. He blanched. "...oh...oh my..." he breathed, his heart a riot of emotions. "...it's...her."

"Th-this can't be happening," Elster muttered, eyes fixed. Helmet locked in her grasp, forgotten.

The shade stood in the middle of the workshop. Hair writhing invisibly with power. Fists clenched. From the pool of shadows at her feet erupted tendrils that pinned almost everyone in the room in place.

Behind her, the Falke brain sat in its containment jar, glass slightly cracked. In front of it, the still empty chassis of the Falke unit.

"It followed us out here!?" Nimue yelled, dangling midair from a tendril wrapped around her legs. She waved her arms impotently. "Was zur Hölle!?"

"The shadow of her Dying Will has escaped containment!" Intef yelled, struggling against a full four tendrils that pinned him to the ceiling.

Golden eyes bore into Elster.

"P-please!" Elster said, holding up a shaky hand. "W-we're just trying to help! To give you new life!" She pointed behind the shade's feet. "We have your brain ready, right there! You just have to-"

The shade followed Elster's gaze back at the brain and chassis, then turned back. Gold eyes glared at the replika commander.

Step. Step. Step.

"...mmmmrrrrr..."

Elster flinched, watching the shade slowly draw closer. "W-what?"

"...mmmrrrr....drrrr..."

Her heart sank.

"...mmmmurrr-der-er..."

The shadow figure's voice was raspy. Hollow. Like it clawed desperately at the barest memory of speech.

A pit formed in Elster's stomach. She knew perfectly well the woman's meaning.

"Mmm...mmm...murderer!" the shade barked through the silhouetted suggestion of a mouth. The act of talking painful. "T-t-t-traitor!"

"...I didn't!" Elster lied, holding her arms up.

The shade conjured a spear from the shadows in her hand. "LIE!"

"Mom!" Circe cried, struggling more against her bonds, to no avail.

"Mom, mom!"

"Don't kill her!"

"Stay away!"

Daisy rolled over, mechadendrites struggling against another tendril that swept out to grab her. "This...isn't good..." she grunted.

"I-I'm sorry, replikas!" Intef yelled, redoubling his efforts to wriggle free. He found his gen-hanced limbs unable to get leverage, much like his battle brothers around him. "This is my fault! If I could only..."

"No."

Elster sighed, watching the shade approach. She smiled sadly. "...it's...mine."

The shade narrowed her eyes at the replika commander. If acknowledgment of the harm done to her tempered the shade's rage, she didn't show it. She clenched her fist around her spear.

Step. Step. Step.

"STOP!"

Adler threw himself in front of Elster. Arms stretched wide.

"No, Adler!" Elster yelled, heart skipping a beat. "I'll be fine! Just-!"

"You must stop!" Adler said, forcefully. A lock of hair fell in front of his face. "Please! We can work this ou-"

The shade reached out with her hand and grabbed the administrator by the collar.

"ADLER!" Elster screamed. She tried to rise, but a tendril shot out and pinned her to the wall. She struggled against it, panicking. "Let him go! It's me you want!"

"Ack!" Adler gasped, as he felt the shadowed woman lift him bodily by the scruff of his navy blue jumpsuit. His hooves dangled, as he grabbed hold of the shade's wrist. "Ah...ah!"

The shade held him aloft, staring at him. She raised her spear, leveling the point at his chest.

"Please!" Elster cried, a tear running down her face. "Take me! TAKE ME!"

"...please..." Adler breathed, gulping. Sweat poured down his brow. "...m-my love..."

The shade flinched. Gold eyes went wide.

Whether through some shared psychic link, or just a shared set of triggers, Adler remembered too.

---

The smell of ink, and fresh cut paper. The rustle of documents. The taste of fine Vinetan coffee.

"Another late night?" he said, setting the tea tray on the desk.

Sighing, she smiled. "A leader's work is never done. How about you?"

He returned the smile. "If you're not turning in, neither am I."

 

The smell of the sea. The feel of moist grass. Wind whipping through long, dark hair.

She looked over her shoulder, frowning. "Did we do the right thing?"

"As if there could be any doubt," he said, hands clasped behind his back. "Without her guidance, the corruption at the heart of the Empire could not be excised."

"Now you're just repeating my own rhetoric back at me," she said, smiling.

"I could think of worse minds to quote," he said, smiling.

"Hmph...flatterer," she said. Looked forward. Out on the shining towers across the bay. At the waves lapping on the shore, which caught the sunset so cleanly. "...it's beautiful."

"...yes," he said, staring at the back of her head. "Very beautiful."

 

The smell of sweat, and perfume. The feel of silk against bare skin. Slow, satisfied breathing.

"...aah..." she sighed, finger tracing stitch-lines across the sheet. "If I were only twenty years younger..."

"You would hardly be more ravaging than you are now," he breathed. He played with a long lock of dark hair.

"Flatterer," she said. Smiled, and stroked his cheek. "I don't deserve you."

"And the Nation doesn't deserve you," he said.

"...sometimes I'm afraid." Her smile dropped. "That I'm unknowingly enthralling you, against your will. That this isn't real, and I'm committing some unforgivable act to you."

"Hmph," he said, smirking. "If I'm under your spell, I don't begrudge it."

"...will you stay?" she said, sadly. "Until the morning?"

"Until the end of time, my lady..."

---

"...my...lady?"

The spear dropped. Hit the floor, and dissolved into dust.

"...do you...know me?" Adler whispered, staring at the shade. His voice trembling.

Golden eyes stared in shock. Then, slowly, softened. Looked at the man sadly. With pain.

"Ah!" Adler yelped, as he fell on his ass. "Shit!"

"Adler!" Elster gasped, eyes darting down to her son as he sat at her hooves. She flinched, as the tendril fixing her in place retreated. "Eh?"

One by one, Astartes and replika sank to the ground. Their bonds broken.

"Is...is it over?" Shahrazad muttered, crawling to her mother and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Adler stared at the shade, standing over him. "...my lady..."

Her hair, no longer writhing with power, sank limp to her side. It drifted eerily in a phantom breeze.

Without warning, she turned on her heel and stalked back to the center of the room. To the vast pool of inky shadows that clung to the floor.

The ritualists watched as the tendrils retreated to the pool. Then, watched the shade step into it. And slowly begin to sink.

"N-no!" Adler cried, staggering to his knees. He crawled forward. "Please! We can be together again!"

The shade cast a sad glance at him. She was down to her waist in the shadows.

"Stop!"

Elster crawled past her son, and sat at the edge of the shadows. "I'm sorry!" she lied. For she didn't regret her actions one iota. "Please! Your body is right there! You can live again! Don't-!"

She flinched, stopping short.

As the shade's chest disappeared in the gloom, she locked eyes with the replika commander.

The look contained nothing less than pure hatred.

Elster raised her hand weakly, a pit formed in her stomach. She watched as the shade shut her shining eyes, and disappeared into the shadows.

The pool shrank, until it, too, vanished beneath the neural pattern implantation machines.

Adler crawled up to Elster, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up from where she stared at the empty floor, and met his eyes. Frowned, and choked back a pained sob.

They shut their eyes and pressed their foreheads together.

Sat before an empty brain and an empty body.

Chapter 83: Arcane After-Action

"...mmph...Ellie?"

Pale hands groped the side of the bunk. Pale fingers clenched around the bedsheet.

The gestalt sighed, drawing the blanket over her sagging shoulders. Back in the pod again, huh?

Reluctantly, Ariane poked a pale foot over the side. Gingerly tested the cold metal floor. Resented, for the thousandth time, the Nation's stinginess when it came to supplying the Penrose 512 with carpeting. Or at least floor rugs. At least she and her mom had those back on Leng.

She rubbed sand from her eyes. Stood uneasily. Followed the dim safety lights to the bathroom. Ears perked up, in vain, for sounds of her absent lover.

It was good while it lasted, I guess, she thought, yawning into her palm.

 

Sat on the toilet, head in her hands, Ariane sighed groggily.

Obviously, she couldn't monopolize Elster forever. The calibration pod, and its nebulous benefits to her physical and mental health, no doubt beckoned so sweetly to the replika. Despite that Ariane tried her best to seduce more invitingly.

...it's not like I have much experience with seduction, Ariane thought, bitterly, outside Elster. She sat up and pressed the back of her head against the wall, resting her eyes.

The previous dozen-odd cycles had been nice. Not the parts where Elster mourned her gestalt's lost child, of course. That was harrowing. Made Ariane's heart ache. But when Elster truly shared her bed - shared everything - it made Ariane feel special. It made that time feel special.

"...get it together," Ariane croaked, pinching her own cheek. "She's just downstairs."

She crossed her arms. Her knee bounced up and down.

 

Ariane paced her quarters. Rubbed fingers through her white hair, into her scalp.

Restless. Restless.

This "nighttime" period didn't feel like other cycles of late. When she woke at odd hours, only to fall right back asleep. A nervous energy spun inside her. For the first time in she knew not how long, Ariane couldn't sleep.

The nightmare about the shadowy woman didn't help. Of overcast skies and crashing waves.

"Mrr..." Ariane groaned, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. Rested chin on her hands, until they deformed her cheeks. Brows furrowed. "...what to do...what to do..."

Waking Elster from the pod was out of the question. Her lover needed rest. Probably held off accepting the calibration pod's sweet embrace, just to give more attention to the gestalt.

Ariane smiled, permitting herself the pettiest of victories over the closet thing she had to a reproductive rival: a metal coffin. Then frowned, remembering that, as the Rotfront girls liked to say, "it doesn't matter who had him first, only who has him last". ("Him" being the archetypal boyfriend they all sought; something Ariane never felt interest in, for reasons that only became painfully obvious later).

She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes clasped shut. The pod isn't your romantic rival, doofus, Ariane chided herself. It's your tag-team partner in keeping Elster healthy. You, the pod, and the 'toys'. One big team.

Knee bounced once more. She pressed a hand down on it, vainly trying to restrain herself.

She looked across the room, and narrowed red eyes. Glared.

"...fine, okay," Ariane groaned, standing. She flicked the switch by the bed, wincing as overhead lights thrummed to life. She stomped across the room, and started moving stacks of books. "You win, you bastard..."

To maintain physical health, and avoid depleting muscle mass, each Penrose ship came equipped with a sturdy treadmill. Explorers sent to find planets to klimaform couldn't very well afford to huff and puff their way across an alien landscape, if their mission succeeded.

Technically, Ariane was required by protocol to spend at least thirty minutes running per cycle. She even started doing it, once she ran out of books to read and movies to watch. Simply because she was bored, and didn't want to start rereading her limited library immediately.

Moreover, she started running seriously about the time she began to feel a certain kind of way towards the ten-out-of-ten smokeshow replika walking around the ship. Exhausting herself on the machine made it easier to resist inappropriate activities behind closed doors.

In retrospect, Ariane wished she'd just given in. Allowed herself to feel for Elster. Maybe then, she would have confessed sooner.

As Ariane cleared the last of the items from the treadmill, including the TV set, she leaned on the support bar. Stared at the dusty machine ruefully. Furrowed her brow.

At some point during their voyage - after she and Elster became lovers, certainly - Ariane just...stopped using the machine. Stopped running, entirely.

For the life of her, she couldn't remember why.

Quite strange. When it became impossible to deny her feelings to herself, Ariane became fixated on keeping in shape. Both before and after her confession, the gestalt feared the replika wouldn't be attracted to her if she gained weight. Residual conditioning from the other Rotfront girls, for whom weight remained a categorical obsession.

Elster, of course, regularly reassured Ariane her feelings - and attraction - wouldn't change if the gestalt let herself go. But Ariane persisted regardless.

Pale finger pressed buttons. The treadmill roared to life. She started to walk on the rotating belt. Slow, as a warmup.

Heart rate elevating, Ariane turned the speed up to a jog.

Panting, she furrowed her brow. If she found it so important to maintain her exercise routine...why had she stopped? How long had it been since last she ran?

She frowned. There was something there, in the back of her head. A tension - an anxiety - tied to the decision to stop running. But no matter how she tried, the knowledge remained stubbornly out of reach.

Ding!

"Ah!" Ariane gasped, looking down at the timer as it ran out. She pressed the button, reducing speed to engage a cooldown walk.

When she finally shut the machine down, she needed a towel off. Short white hair clung to her scalp, her nightgown soaked with perspiration. Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, Ariane disrobed and made for the shower.

If sleep still eluded her, she would grab a book and head to the kitchen. On the threshold of the bathroom, she rubbed her belly hungrily.

It was at that she looked over her shoulder, at the treadmill. Narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"...why was I afraid of running out of calories? We have plenty of food..."

---

"...is Sergeant Bebnum alright?"

Oversized feet, clad in oversized sandals, stomped across the carpeted floor. White robes swayed with movement.

The captain crossed his arms, gen-hanced eyes staring out at the infinite sea of stars. "He will heal," Intef said curtly.

Elster rubbed Adler's back affectionately. She turned her head, side-eyeing over the back of the couch. "...I'm...sorry about his arm," she said, carefully. Felt her son flinch, and bury his face further in his hands.

Intef's head turned, regarding the Eules and Stars staring quietly from across the lounge. "...I would prefer..." he said, carefully, "...not to discuss that here. With such...mixed company."

Gulp. "...everyone," Elster said, raising her voice without looking. "Can you give us room to talk, please?"

The onlookers needed no further prompting. They looked uneasily between their mother and the giant, and quickly departed.

"...should I go as well?" Adler croaked, raising puffy eyes over his fingers.

"..." Elster inhaled. Exhaled. She patted his shoulder. "Yes," she said, softly. "Go get something to eat, sweetie. We'll talk later in my office. Okay?"

Adler nodded, and stood. He looked physically exhausted, and emotionally drained. He cast a single, sad glance at the Thousand Sons officer. "...Capitan", he croaked, bowing slightly at the waist.

Elster and Intef watched him leave. Waited until the door slid shut behind him.

"...it should go without saying," Intef said, turning to the window again, "that I would prefer you not advertise what you saw back there. With Sergeant Bebnum."

"Of course," Elster nodded, weaving her fingers together in her lap. Cautiously, her eyes turned to look sidelong and up at him. "...will he experience further symptoms like...?"

"That...," Intef said, "...is an internal Legion matter." He spoke with a tone that brooked no discussion.

"...of course, my lord," Elster said, wringing her hands nervously. Stooped her shoulders. Stared at the beige carpet. "I apologize for what happened. I didn't..."

"What did happen, replika?" Intef said, voice rising. The muscles in his neck tightened. "What the hell was that?"

"I-I don't know, sir," Elster said, quickly. Her eyes darted sideways a few times, as she debated if it was prudent to look up at the Astartes. "I didn't..."

"You lie!" Intef growled, struggling to keep his voice down. He clenched his fist, turning his head to look at the replika commander. "I can sense it now, and I sensed it then when you apologized to the shade! You knew this would happen!"

"I did not!" Elster said, turning her head to look him in the eyes. She pivoted in her seat to face him. Pressed a hand to her chest. "I swear, I didn't know there would be that kind of reaction! You have to believe me!"

Intef's mouth opened, sucking breath. Words on the tip of his tongue. He regarded the replika seriously. Closed his mouth. His bronzed face twitched. "Perhaps," he said finally. "But you DO know why the shade was so angry. It defended itself against all of us. It hated you. Why?"

Elster frowned, sweat forming on her brow. She looked away, hesitantly. "That's...a complicated matter."

"Explain it, then," Intef said, flatly. He narrowed his eyes. "Unless it's something you don't want to say."

"Capitan, I didn't mean for any of this to happen," Elster said, holding her hands out plaintively. "You have to believe me!"

"Why should I believe you!?" the captain barked, scowling. Fist clenched. He pointing a thick finger at her. "You've been trying to manipulate me this entire time!"

"Wh-what!?" Elster sputtered, flinching back. Eyes rose in both alarm and confusion. "I-I haven't!"

"Yes you have!" Intef said, stepping back. He turned away, stalking across the room. Fighting to restrain his wrath. He glared over his shoulder, and pointed at the ceiling. "And what about that!? Up there! WHY DO YOU HAVE A TZEENTCH DAEMON ON YOUR SHIP!?"

"..."

The room fell silent.

Hearts racing, Elster held her hands out. Eyes darted to the ceiling, then to the walls. She was sure everyone in the corridors and adjacent rooms heard.

That the Penrose housed a daemon was not, after so many years and crew let in on it, a secret. It wasn't discussed openly. But most of the crew were distantly aware of their mother's "familiar" she had stashed in the "attic". The ones with greater psychic sensitivity could sometimes hear its voice, or feel its presence. After all, he didn't attempt to hide anymore, if no other ships or outsiders were around. Mik'hul didn't need to.

At least the crew generally knew better than to heed the daemon's words. The older children made sure to impress that upon them. That, and they knew from their mother's example how badly a deal with the devil could go.

Still, Elster preferred not to acknowledge it.

"...it's...not what it seems," Elster said, finally. Kept her hands up. "I'm not...with Tzeentch."

"I find that hard to believe," Intef seethed through his teeth. He clenched his fist. "The Changer of Ways cannot be trusted. Nor can those who truck with him..."

That's rich, coming from you, magic man, thought Mik'hul, raising his voice to be heard over the distance.

Intef flinched. Turned his head sharply to the ceiling. Then, looked back at Elster.

Saw her eyes widen, in recognition.

Or are we still pretending you, your brothers, and your father didn't cut a deal of your own? Don't act like you're all high and mighty. We're all pact-bound here.

"..."

Replika and Astartes stared silently at one another.

"..." Intef swallowed, his rage dissipating into what passed for panic among his psycho-indoctrinated kind. Eyes quivered, hearts raced. Finally, he pressed a fist to his chin and looked away. "...dammit..."

Elster blinked, her own heartrate falling. She frowned, and shuffled sideways on the couch. Faced forward, toward the starscape outside. "...do you...want to sit down?"

"..."

Intef stared at the wall. Shut his eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled.

After a moment, the Thousand Sons captain reluctantly stomped over and carefully sank into the couch. It groaned. He leaned forward, resting as much of his considerable weight on his knees, so as to not tax the furniture. Chin rested on hands laced together in resigned contemplation.

They stared out at the stars for a solid minute.

"...I'm...sorry if I came off as manipulative," Elster said, hands in her lap. "I don't know what I said or did to give that impression."

"It wasn't your words," Intef said, softly. "I've felt you in my mind. Trying to slip past my defenses. The cracks in my armor, that even I didn't know were there. Induce me to talk about myself, and my company. To reveal our secrets. I..." He looked sidelong at her and froze.

Elster's eyes widened in confusion. "What?" she said, furrowing her brow. "What are you talking about? I never did that. I'm not that powerful a bioresonant. I wouldn't even begin to know how to..."

The Astartes stared at her, blankly.

"...what?" Elster said, hunching over. "What is it? I'm telling you, I don't..."

The giant wheezed.

Elster sat up in surprise, watching the captain bury his face in his massive hand.

"...you..." he chuckled, shaking his head. He smiled, a tension loosened in his barrel chest. "...you don't even know you're doing it, do you?"

"...I don't..." Elster breathed, frowning. She gestured, bewildered, with her hand. "I'm not...what do you mean?"

"All this time, I thought you were doing in intentionally," Intef said, staring at the floor. Shook his head again, chest wracked with a wheezing laugh. "When I sensed your familiar, in the scout vessel, I was sure it must be intentional. But reading you now...you're doing it instinctively." He smiled, furrowing his brow in contemplation. "A defense mechanism, perhaps. Draw others into conversation. Build a rapport. Foster harmony through mutual understanding. So they never think to try to hurt you...heh. Fascinating. After a hundred years, the galaxy still finds ways to surprise me."

Elster stared at the Astartes in shock. "...what? I..."

She turned forward, and stared at the floor. Hands folded in her lap. Gears turned in her head.

The Primarch Perturabo. The Eldar on that 'Maiden World'. Anton Weir, the Blackshield. Luther, Master of Caliban. Sergeant David and the other members of the Order. The Mindstealer Sphiranx. Anacharis Scoria, the Xanophane Tyrant. Even, in a perverse way, Captain Kurl back on Phall, and probably Chaplain Goria, too.

The Great Revolutionary's Daughter, perhaps? Did it go back that far, against one so powerful?

Had they been so open to divulge their stories, their motivations...because she was unconsciously 'charming' them with her bioresonance? Was she even capable of that level of influence, much less subtlety? Obviously, it didn't stop the likes of Kurl from trying to kill her. But he remained, despite his homicidal rage, surprisingly chatty while trying to chop her to pieces. Certainly, she was trying to keep him talking, to distract him. But did that extend to...psychic manipulation?

"...apologies. I didn't mean to disturb you with such a revelation."

Elster flinched. She sat up, shakily turned to face the Thousand Sons captain. Face pale, covered in sweat. "...I'm...sorry?"

Intef smiled sadly, shaking his head. "The psychic mind is potent, and subtle," he said, turning to the stars. "Some with the gift go their entire life without realizing how much they benefited from powers they didn't know they had." He turned his head down and shut his eyes. "Forgive me. I was so sure you were...another pawn of the Changer of Ways. Someone sent to deceive and manipulate us. It never occurred to me, you were just as deceived. But then, that's to be expected..."

The replika commander hastily compartmentalized the revelation, and turned back to the stars. "...to be clear," Elster said, mastering herself, "while I've made a pact with Chaos, it wasn't with Tzeentch."

"Hmm?" Intef said, looking over at her with eyebrows raised. "Elaborate...if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Elster nodded, weaving her fingers together. "Mik'hul...the daemon up there...he and I both made pacts with a different being. A lesser Chaos power. Vashtorr, the Arkifane. Master of the Soul Forges."

"...I see," Intef said. He frowned. "I've never heard of this 'Vashtorr'. Or the Soul Forges, either."

"Most people haven't," Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Even among those knowledgeable about the Ruinous Powers, Vashtorr is...obscure. It's kind of annoying, really. Being a servant of a minor god no one's ever heard of." She threw her hands up, sardonically. "At least if I served one of the Four, I would have the benefit of name recognition."

"Hmph," Intef chuckled, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Being in thrall to one of the majors isn't all it's cracked up to be, either."

"How did that happen, anyway?" Elster asked, raising an eyebrow. "You making a pact with Tzeentch?"

"Hmm...you first," Intef said, stroking his chin. "Since we're sharing."

"Very well," Elster nodded, looking at the floor. "My girlfriend and I were trapped in someplace that...might have been Hell." She side-eyed the Astartes. Noticed his curiosity. "I'm sorry I can't be more exact than that. I don't know exactly how we got there myself. All I know is that we were trapped. She was suffering. I suffered, too, trying to free her from her pain. Eventually, Vashtorr intervened, promising escape and new life, in exchange for debt owed to him. Now I work to pay it off."

"Ah...a tale as old as time," Intef nodded, sagely. "Trapped in an unwinnable scenario, with your loved ones on the line. A daemon appears, offering salvation...for a price." He sighed, sitting up. "It's much like us, as it happens. My Legion and I."

"How'd that happen?" Elster asked, leaning back in her seat. Crossed her arms. "If you don't mind."

"It began...with the Council of Nikea," Intef said, nodding. "It was supposed to be - advertised as - a debate over what was to be done about psykers within the Legions, overseen by the Emperor himself."

"Supposed to be?" Elster said, raising an eyebrow.

Intef frowned. "In truth, it was more like...the Thousand Sons specifically were on trial. We, who have so many psykers within our ranks. And after our father Magnus, and his allies Sanguinius and Jaghatai Khan, argued so eloquently in favor of their Librarius project. Their opponents, including Leman Russ and Mortarian, despised psykers. Saw them as little more than witches and base sorcerers, here to bring plagues upon their houses." He sneered. "Russ. The hypocrite. His Legion gladly employs and venerates their Rune Priests, yet accused US of reckless sorcery!"

"The Imperium," Elster said, "I've found to be filled with hypocrisy." She turned her head fractionally to him. "How did this council rule? Our tech priest, Diodana, told me a bit about your Legion. But she wasn't in the loop for a few years prior to the civil war. She said nothing about Nikea."

"It was a recent thing, yes," Intef nodded, soberly. "Happened shortly before Lupercal's atrocities on Isstvan. Mortarian and Russ got their way. The Emperor, for reasons I cannot fathom, ruled in their favor. Outlawed the Librarius, and all use of psychic powers in the Legions."

"That's rough." Elster pursed her lips. "I take it you disobeyed?"

"Oh, certainly," Intef nodded, crossing his arms. "We kept it quiet. But continued using our powers, when we thought we could get away with it. Banning all use of our gifts is a senseless and superstitious thing. No less, because the Emperor himself is a powerful psyker. He and his right hand man, Malcador the Sigilite." He looked at the replika. "How can we be expected to obey an edict he, himself, won't follow? And how is it to the benefit of the Imperium to restrain our mightiest weapon?" He looked at the stars, to calm himself. "We are Astartes, yes. But we were so much more. Would you begrudge one of your Schnappers the use of her huge frame or muscles?"

"Certainly not," Elster said. "It's why I built them." She looked sidelong at the legionary. "Did they find out? Is that why...?"

She couldn't bring herself to say 'why Prospero burned?'.

Intef shrugged. "I don't know the exact cause for the Emperor to unleash Russ upon us," he said, frowning. "After...it happened, I conversed with a Tzeentch daemon. It claimed Magnus discovered the Emperor withdrew from the Great Crusade to labor upon a ritual to achieve Apotheosis..."

Elster furrowed her brow. "He wanted to become a god?" she said.

"That is what the daemon claimed," Intef said, neutrally. "Further, that the ritual not only required the covert sacrifice of countless mortals, but the sacrifice of the Primarchs, his own sons, and their Legions. That he already performed the first step of this process, by sacrificing the two lost Primarchs, of which none were permitted to speak."

"Lost Primarchs?" Elster muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes curiously.

"In the end, the daemon claimed Magnus spoiled the Emperor's ritual," Intef continued. "That the Edict of Nikea was meant to prevent any Legion Librarians from resisting the spell. But Magnus, in rejecting that ban, was powerful enough to prevent it from happening. Enraged, the Emperor sent Leman Russ, who hated Magnus most, to raze Prospero."

"Can you trust what the daemon said?" Elster asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not in the slightest," Intef said, leaning his head back. "Tzeentch is the Father of Lies. It could easily be a fabrication, to drive us all further into his clutches."

"But you did pledge to Tzeentch, ja?"

"It's...more complicated than that," Intef said, frowning. He clicked his tongue, savoring the irony of using the replika's words. "But it is true, that our father made a deal with the Changer of Ways, to save those left on Prospero that he could. He took us to a planet in a region of the galaxy where the Warp and Realspace intermingle. In such a place, inundated with the stuff of the Immatereum, and with Magnus broken and scattered...we all had to make pacts with daemons, just to survive there."

"I'm sorry," Elster said, frowning.

"You need not be sorry," Intef sighed. Shut his eyes. "I don't know what it was that Magnus did wrong, to land us in that situation." He glared at the stars. "All I know...is that Leman Russ and his mongrel dogs put our world - a center of prosperity and learning - to the torch. It was not merely Tizca, our shining city, that burned. It was Prospero entire. Set ablaze by orbital weapons, that would have destroyed us utterly had Tizca's defenses not held. Put our world to the torch, and its people to the sword. And because the Legio Custodes, and their...reprehensible 'Silent Sisterhood' came with him, we know for a fact the Emperor sanctioned Russ's actions. At least on some level."

"Silent Sisterhood?" Elster said, frowning. "I've heard some of the Custodes. They're supposed to be something like Uber-Ubermenschen. Super Astartes. But I don't know these 'Sisters'."

Intef tapped his fingers on his other hand. "You may not know who the Silent Sisterhood are," he said. "But you're already familiar with what they are. After all, you're trying to make one."

"...a...Falke?" Elster said, frowning. "Powerful bioresonants?"

"No, the opposite." Intef turned to looked her in the eye. "Blanks. Militarized Pariahs."

Elster's eyes widened. "...oh." She looked forward, and swallowed. "Oh. I see."

"..."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"...what happens now?" Elster asked, staring at the stars.

"I cannot perform another ritual like the one we just attempted," Intef said, flatly.

"I'm sorry it went so wrong," Elster said, turning to the legionary. She pressed a hand to her chest. "But we can fix it. And I don't need to be there."

"I...have a suspicion the neural pattern may continue to be uncooperative," Intef said, not looking at the replika. "Regardless of whether you're present or not."

He paused, then inclined his head back. "Come inside, administrator. You need to hear this too."

Elster flinched, then looked over her shoulder in surprise as the lounge door slid open, and Adler stepped sheepishly inside.

"...I-I'm sorry, commander," Adler said, rubbing his hands together. He looked away. "I...couldn't resist listening in."

"...it's okay," Elster said, frowning. She turned around in her seat and held out a hand.

Adler stepped over and took it. Squeezed it.

They looked at the legionary.

"I...cannot in good conscience continue to risk my men on this project of yours," Intef said, slowly. He stared at the stars. "Our numbers are too precious for it. Even for one who saved our lives. Nor even to create a powerful psyker like your FLKR units." He sighed. "Moreover...we will need to move on soon. Our search must continue, and waste not a moment when we've picked up the trail."

"I see," Elster said, lowering her gaze. She squeezed her son's hand. "I get it."

Adler deflated. Chewed his lower lip. "...so...you can't help us."

"I never said that."

Adler's eyes lit up. He looked at the marine expectantly.

"I think you're already most of the way to having a functional ritual for implanting the FLKR pattern," Intef said, resting his chin on his clasped hands pensively. "I can provide some materials, collated from our library, to help refine the process." He glanced at the two replikas. "The operative issue, of course, is the shade's recalcitrance. This, however, I think can be mitigated, provided a key piece of the puzzle."

"And that is?" Elster said.

Intef looked her dead in the eyes. "The pattern 'donor's' True Name."

"True Name?" Adler said, furrowing his brow. "What is...?"

"It is as it sounds," Intef shrugged, looking away. "The name of your subject. Her 'True' name, the one she held in her heart. The one Reality itself knew her as. I noticed when we attempted the ritual, your Circe called out to her as 'Falke'. But, of course, this was not the 'gestalt's' name. She does not recognize it. Nor does it bear the absolute arcane resonance and power contained by her True Name."

"Incorporating the True Name in the ritual would make the shade more willing to cooperate?" Elster said, squinting. "Is it really that easy, given her hostility?"

The captain smiled. "With the correct ritual construction, using the True Name can obviate the need for the shade's compliance entirely. You would be able to Bind her, in a way that exceeds and circumvents the limitations of mere psychic force. The rules of Reality itself will force her shade to obey."

"Y-you mean there's still a chance?" Adler said, leaning over at the legionary. He frowned, faltering. "W-wait...but how do we know what her gestalt's True Name is?"

"Your commander already knows who the woman was," Intef said, looking sidelong at them. "Even if she doesn't know her name...yet."

Adler looked at his mother. "...commander?"

"I do," Elster nodded. Squeezed Adler's hand.

"It's the Great Revolutionary."

Chapter 84: Elster's Study

"Here it is."

Paper dust jackets brushed against one another, as a book slid from the shelf. Black, artificial fingers flip through yellowing pages, as hooves clacked across a metal floor. They transitioned to the soft patter on an ornate rug, woven in the designs of the local Contenji religion. Saved, of course, from the fires of Imperial Iterators subsequent to that world's compliance.

Bookshelves lined two walls of the room, and stacks of books sat in cardboard boxes across the floor. A broken treadmill sat against one wall, a storage pallet for further books and artifacts. A mahogany desk stood opposite the door. The bunk remained open, its old padding replaced years ago (worn out from a lengthy original voyage, and filthy besides). Sheets wrinkled and askew, from many consecutive days of hard research.

The administrator watched his commander pace to the desk. Hands clasped behind his back. "..."

"...yes...okay," Elster said, flipping ceased. She tapped the page, and spread the volume out on the desk. She pointed. "Observe."

Adler stood by her side and leaned over. His eyes widened. "...that's..."

"Yes," Elster nodded, tapping the page again. "The Great Revolutionary."

A full page photo dominated the spread. While the rest of the commemorative volume was printed in black and white, several pages in the center were granted a full color treatment.

A photograph of the Great Revolutionary in action demanded nothing less.

She strode down an avenue, flanked by party officials, against the backdrop of a river. Long, dark hair billowed behind her. A military greatcoat, festooned with medals, draped over her shoulders. She pulled a glove tight over her hand. The gestalt permitted the camera a piercing glance, her expression regal and stoic.

"..." A ragged breath. He couldn't help himself. Adler pressed a hand to his face, enraptured. "...she's as beautiful as I remember."

"..." Elster regarded the photo, and exhaled out her nose. "I operated for quite some time on the assumption that the FLKR unit was not merely modeled on likeness of the Great Revolutionary, but actually bears her neural pattern. Every interview I had with Nation citizens confirms the Falkes only appeared a few years following the Great Revolutionary's death. It's only now, after our...unsuccessful implantation, that I'm dead certain of it."

"But why?" Adler breathed, frowning. He looked at his mother. "Why would the Nation do something like that? I know the Nation was ruthlessly pragmatic. But even still. Would the Great Revolutionary's Daughter have...harvested her mother like that? How could she?" A note of distaste tinged his voice as he said it.

"I've thought about that," Elster said, turning around. She sat on the edge of the desk, then propped her hoof on it, so as to rest one arm on her knee. Pensively nestled her chin into the crook of her elbow. "...after years of acting as our commander, I've started to see how it could have come about."

Adler clasped his hands behind his back, and stared expectantly at his mother. "..."

"Look at it this way," Elster said, leaning back on the desk, supported by her other arm. She stared off into space. "The Great Revolutionary's daughter inherits control of the Nation following her mother's untimely death. How she died, AEON never revealed. But it can't have been natural for her age. The country was already long embroiled in its forever war against the Empire. It wasn't that long after the bombs fell on Vineta, Eusan's 'cradle of life'. And the Nation was preparing to invade Kitezh, on short notice, because they HAD to secure what was now the only great breadbasket remaining in the system. Food output from hydroponics simply wasn't at the scale at the time to make up for the loss of Vineta's agricultural land."

"Right," Adler nodded, gears in his mind already turning.

Food concerns were always a major factor for both polities after the Vinetan War. Indeed, the only reason food supplies stabilized in Eusan at all...was because the Imperium came and placed the system's whole output under one banner again. (And supplied starving citizens on Vineta food from their own generous stores).

"Suffice to say, the new leader would have not only been in a delicate headspace emotionally, due to loss, but under extreme pressure and stress," Elster said, rubbing her fingers together. "Despite vociferous propaganda promising a swift 'liberation' of Kitezh, and her vast farmland, the Daughter's military advisors would have told her the truth. Or else couldn't keep it from such a powerful bioresonant individual." She turned her head, to regard her son gravely. "That after the grinding war on Vineta, and with no time to prepare, the Kitezh campaign wouldn't go well."

"I take it they were correct?"

Elster nodded. "The military got bogged down. Empire forces on Kitezh knew, with Vineta flooded, the Nation had no choice but to invade. They had the benefit of a home field advantage, and precious time to fortify. Neither side could afford to drop bombs, either. Not if they wanted arable land intact." She stared into space again. "It became another war of grinding attrition, all over again."

"...I suppose I can imagine that even the possibility of this would weigh heavily on the Great Revolutionary's Daughter's mind," Adler said.

"Furthermore," Elster said, leaning on her propped up leg, "the internal climate of the Nation was fraught. Citizens promised a quick liberation on Vineta saw instead their homeworld - what they believed to be the homeworld of humanity itself - reduced to a partly irradiated ocean world. Only livable by fleets of boats or cities built on stilts. Shortfalls in food and other necessities, like paper, fomented greater and greater austerity. Then, subsequently, more and more violent crackdowns, surveillance, and loss of liberties." She closed her eyes. "The utopia of equality, freedom, and plenty the Founders promised seemed more and more like an empty dream, if not an outright lie."

"...revolt?" Adler said, raising an eyebrow.

"Or the threat of it, yes," Elster nodded. "Agitation, certainly." She turned her head fractionally to Adler. Pressed fingers to her chin. "Imagine you're the Daughter. You've spent your whole life fighting for a new system. A new world, free from the theocracy and class stratification of the Empire. And now these...ungrateful plebians were on the verge of insurrection. After all you'd done for them. After all you sacrificed. Remember, you're the granddaughter of the Grand Empress herself. You could have been on the throne by now. You never had to deal with all this. You did it out of the goodness of your heart, and because your mother wanted it. And they, the 'worms', dared complain." She pointed down at the floor, for emphasis.

Adler cast his eyes to the book. To the photo of the Great Revolutionary. He looked back at his mother. "...I guess I can see that. Continue."

"Ah! But there's more," Elster said, raising her finger dramatically. "For you see, there's still another factor, even her advisors may not have known, let alone the rest of the Nation." She turned her head and met the man's eyes. "The Imperium of Man."

"The Imperium?" Adler said, furrowing his brows. "They wouldn't come for years at that point, correct?"

"But she knew they were coming," Elster said, pointing at him for emphasis. "She told me as much, when I met her. She was capable of astro-telepathy. While everyone else reeled from the disaster at Vineta, she was hearing the voices of other systems. Other worlds, other civilizations. They told her what was happening elsewhere." She narrowed her eyes. "They told her the Imperium of Man was coming to conquer everything. And no one had the power to stop them."

Adler began to chew his finger. "...oh...I-I see..."

"The destruction of the homeworld. A campaign predicted to go badly. The mounting responsibilities of running a state. The threat of Empire naval elements, blockading their worlds or trying to strike at Heimat itself. Her own subjects." Elster frowned, counting off elements on her hand. "And to top it all off, an expansionist power from beyond the stars, possessed of inexhaustible armies and superior technology, coming to wipe away everything she and her mother built."

The administrator covered his mouth, brow furrowed. "..."

"With everything arrayed against her. With all she spent her life building on the verge of collapse. Deprived of her mother, her role model, her rock. Bereaved, isolated, alone."

Elster leaned back, weight on her arm. She raised her chin fractionally. "And then, she would think of her mother's body, lying in cryo storage. The most powerful bioresonant the Eusan system produced since the Grand Empress herself. Think of her, and her powerful, intact brain..."

Adler shivered. "...n-no..."

Elster leaned her head back. Then slowly turned it, until she could look at him with one eye. "...is it any wonder that, in that moment, a grieving Daughter's thoughts might turn dark?"

"..." The administrator swallowed. He looked down, trembling, at the photograph again. His mind filled with intrusive thoughts. Of the stately beauty, lying on a slab, frost clinging to her lips.

He couldn't help but think of Hippolyta, fresh from the Penrose cryo pod. He shivered.

"Once the idea is in her head, of course, it won't leave," Elster said, hugging her bent leg. Rested her cheek on her knee. "I know from experience, just how...alluring it is. Oh, it makes you sick to think about, yes. Makes you feel guilt, at even considering such an...obscene act. A desecration. But when the shock of your own self-horror dulls, the temptation sets in. The urge begins to swell. To curse the gods, and pluck your loved one's essence from their cold husk and grant them new life."

"..." Hand still pressed to his mouth, Adler shut his eyes. He felt ill. Did all he could to master himself.

"Before you know it consciously, your heart is already set," Elster said, pointing a finger at him. "You know what you want to do. What you feel you must do. Because you cannot stand their absence. Cannot stand the phantom pain of the one you love." She sighed, looking down at her palm. "Heart committed to your course, your logical mind begins to rationalize. To produce justifications and excuses for what you want to do anyway."

"How...does one rationalize this?" Adler said, waving a hand vaguely at the air. "One's own mother? One's family?"

"For me...it was a combination of thinking we vitally needed Hip's expertise, and wanting to spare Circe her loss. That's what I told the others, and myself," Elster said, resting her head on her knee. "In truth, I just wanted my baby back. But the rationale came easily from there. For the Great Revolutionary's Daughter, making a replika of her mother solved all her problems. She wouldn't have to say goodbye, of course. But she'd also get her Wunderwaffen, her superweapon. A battlefield 'psyker' whose power and mastery dwarfed anything the Empire could field. Produced en masse. The Nation could field them on every front, in every engagement. Against any enemy, Empire or Imperium. On every world...even their own. Ultimate attack, ultimate defense..."

"...and...ultimate control of the populace," Adler breathed. He started to pace the room, rubbing his face. Wiped cold sweat from his brow, contemplating the terrible implications. "Telepathy, mind reading, thought control..."

"No more rebellious citizens," Elster nodded. "Because, with enough FLKR units, and KLBR and KNCR units disseminating their Will, there would be no more seditious thoughts." She smiled sadly, shutting her eyes. "It's ironic. If it succeeded, the Great Revolutionary's Daughter would have recreated the kind of absolute autocracy the Grand Empress ruled. A new Eusan Empire, where there is no war...and no dissent...because they're literally unthinkable. All would worship their new living gods. Gods who are all, it happens, exact copies of her mother."

Adler pressed his forehead against a bookshelf. "...that...can't be what her mother wanted."

"Who can say?" Elster shrugged. "What I can say...is it's very easy to imagine, when she worked herself up with excuses and rationalizations, that the Daughter could have gone one step further. Convinced herself that, since it would be done to protect the Nation they built together, she HAD to do it. That any crime done in service of protecting and prosecuting the Revolution was justified. That her mother would want it to happen. And that she wouldn't be a good Daughter...if she let it all crumble to nothing. Whether against the Eusan Empire, the Imperium of Man, or their own citizens."

"...damn..." Adler breathed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. Forearm pressed against the bookcase for support. He swallowed, then looked over his shoulder. "...are we sure that's all true?"

"Not at all," Elster said, standing up. Stretched arms over her head. "Ngh...ah...I'm being uncharitable, because I fucking hated the bitch. For all we know, the Great Revolutionary saw her death coming, and made plans with her Daughter to do exactly this. A contingency not merely consented to, but requested. We just don't know."

"..." Adler turned around and stared at his mother. "...you said before that the Great Revolutionary's Daughter told you herself she knew the Imperium was coming."

"That's right," Elster nodded. She stooped her shoulders. Frowned. Knew where the line of questioning would turn.

"....you killed her," he said, flatly, "didn't you?"

"Yes," Elster said, without hesitation. Pointed to the floor. "She put Ariane and I on a ship, just like this one, and sent us off to our deaths. Every pain I've suffered, even stretching back to my gestalt's lifetime, the Daughter had a hand in. From the Vineta War, to being offered a contract by Vashtorr. Not to mention Ariane, whose life was also irreversibly hobbled, from her youth, by the culture, policies, and programs of the Eusan Nation." Elster furrowed her brow, fighting the anger building in her heart. "Ariane - my Ariane - suffered in mind, body, and soul because of the Penrose program, and all the events leading up to it. None of that happens, without the Great Revolutionary's Daughter. I won't lie or make excuses. I wanted revenge."

"...was it worth it?" Adler asked, frowning.

"Absolutely," Elster said, stone-faced.

She did regret dying immediately after, thereby accruing more debt. But that was more a matter of happenstance. She could always lay blame on 1) her own failure to dodge falling debris, and 2) the Iron Hands marine who shot her. She could easily have taken her revenge and NOT died like an idiot.

Adler pinched the bridge of his nose. "Be that as it may," he sighed, "if the 'Ur-Falke' IS the Great Revolutionary...this may explain why her neural pattern so violently resisted implantation." He pointed a finger at his mother. "Somehow, her 'shade' knows what you did to her daughter. Is that within the realm of possibility?"

"Yeah. Fuck!" Elster groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I know, I know...I fucked up." She peeked through her fingers. "Sorry, Adler."

"I can't say I'm not peeved," Adler said, shutting his eyes and scowling. Crossed his arms. He sighed, "...but I suppose you can't possibly have known."

"I still don't know how it's possible for the 'shade' to know about that," Elster said, crossing her arms and frowning. "Maybe it could read my mind...?"

...or, Elster thought, ruefully, the Great Revolutionary exists somewhere in the Warp. And is actively spoiling our efforts. If that's true...Intef might be right. Even if I'm not involved directly, the Great Revolutionary may never willingly permit us access to a Falke.

"In any case," Adler sighed, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bunk, "it still leaves us with the same problem." He doubled over, resting elbows on his knees. He looked up at his mother. "Do we know the Great Revolutionary's True Name? Because if her neural pattern is hostile, even persistently so, we'll need that to make a Falke."

"Right, well," Elster said, clapping her hands, "there's bad news and good news. Bad news, we don't know what her name is."

"...wait, seriously?" Adler said, sitting up. He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's a reason we've been calling her the 'Great Revolutionary'," Elster said, spreading her hands and shrugging. "Same with the 'Great Revolutionary's Daughter'. Their names were NOT public knowledge. We only have those titles for them." She looked away, scratching her forearm. "I don't even think they were state secrets, either. NO ONE outside the royal household knew what any of them were named. Not the Grand Empress, not the Great Revolutionary..."

"...I mean, I thought it was unusual for you never to use anything but their titles, yes," Adler said, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. "I assumed that was just...an eccentricity on your part. Or state policy. You're telling me it was entirely secret? Why?"

"...magic, I think?" Elster said, tilting her head to the side. In response to Adler's confused expression, she continued, "Words have power. Names have power, especially True Names. The entire reason we're discussing this is because if we had the Great Revolutionary's True Name, we could magically bind her. Follow me so far?"

"I...guess?" Adler said, shrugging in exasperation.

"Well, the royal line were powerful bioresonant talents," Elster said, pointing a finger for emphasis. "Effectively sorcerer-lords. If anyone would take seriously the threat of a rival sorcerer using their True Names to bind them, it would be the Grand Empress and her descendants."

Blink. Blink. "Hmrph!" Adler groaned, doubling over and burying his face in his hands. "...so...do we have any idea who might have known their True Names?" He looked up, splaying a hand out. "How did the Nation's bioresonant adepts create Falkes, if they didn't know?"

"I mean, her Daughter probably knew," Elster said, crossing her arms. "But if it's her Daughter, she probably wouldn't need to bind her neural pattern, because the shade wouldn't resist her. Not unless she felt it was a betrayal."

"...anyone else?" Adler moaned, rubbing his face.

Finger tapped on a forearm. "I...actually had an idea about that," Elster said.

Adler watched his mother walk over to a bookshelf. Indeed, Elster found the exact same spot where she pulled the previous book. Her fingers tapped the volume beside the empty space, and pulled it out. Blew dust from the top. She walked to the desk and took up the previous book.

"This is the book I showed you earlier," Elster said, holding up the first book.

"Right," Adler nodded.

"And this..." Elster said, holding up the other volume, side by side with the previous one. Their dust jackets were identical. "...is an earlier printing."

"An earlier printing?" Adler said, cocking an eyebrow. He took the first book in his hands when his mother offered, staring down at the open page depicting the Great Revolutionary. "Why own two copies of this text in particular?"

Not that he begrudged owning multiple copies of a work. A fact that, of course, went without saying.

Artificial fingers flipped through the far more yellowed pages. "Because the Nation only reprints something like this, while recalling all previous printings, for one reason."

Elster found the proper page, and held it out for her son to see. "Redaction and censorship. To change the past."

Adler's heart skipped a beat. Eyes widened. "...what?"

On the same page, in the exact same place, the volume depicted the same photograph of the Great Revolutionary. Same billowing hair, same glove, same regal, piercing eyes.

But there was one difference. A huge difference.

A gestalt man walked at her left side. A man with dark, slicked-back hair, a pointed nose, professional bearing, and hands clasped behind his back.

"...wait..." Adler muttered, shakily taking the yellowed volume in his hands. He stared at the man in the photo. Stared at the man who looked so much like himself.

"When the Eusan Nation creates a new replika pattern," Elster said, tapping the top of the page, "they erase the gestalt donor from all records."

The replika man swallowed. He furiously scanned the page, looking for a description in text. He found an image caption at the bottom of the page opposite the photograph.

It read, "The Great Revolutionary, accompanied by officials and assistant. Date..."

Assistant? Is that all I...he was? Adler thought, forlornly. He searched the page, trying to derive a clue from the body of the text. Unfortunately, as the photo was printed on the first color page of a big block of same, the text on the reverse was unrelated.

"I'll save you the trouble," Elster said, standing back up. "I've read both volumes front to back. It doesn't mention that man at all. Let alone his name." She frowned. "I'm sorry. If it's as I think it is, we still don't know who your gestalt was. Save that he worked closely with the Great Revolutionary in some capacity."

"...it was more than that."

Adler rubbed his eyes, trying not to cry. He sniffed. "...I...he was her lover," he said, forcing himself to maintain composure. "I know because...when I was face to face with her shade...I remembered..."

"..."

Elster turned around and sat down on the edge of the bed. Hooked an arm around behind him. She side-hugged her son, patting his shoulder. "Shh...it's okay."

He took a ragged breath. Pursed his lips in pain. Clapped his hands together, and pressed them to his forehead. "...okay..." he breathed. "...does this mean...I might have memories of the Great Revolutionary's True Name, locked away in my subconscious?"

"That's what I was thinking," Elster nodded, picking up one of the books from Adler's lap. She held up the image that displayed the likely 'Ur-Adler'. "Your memories might be the only record of the Great Revolutionary's intimate identity."

"Could the Kolibris look inside my mind?" Adler said, hand reaching out to touch his mother's shoulder. "Maybe it's there, if you look deep enough!"

"Are...are you sure?" Elster said, frowning. "I didn't want to press you, if you didn't want that kind of invasion into your privacy. Or, if worse comes to worse, the process of delving into your subconscious hurts you. Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes!" Adler said, furrowing his brow and squeezing Elster's shoulder. "I'm sure."

Elster studied her son's face. Read his determination. She shut her eyes.

"Very well. I'll gather whichever Kolibri is available."

Chapter 85: A Great Revolution

"...shouldn't we do this on a spare ADLR brain?"

Wheeled out onto the workshop floor, the examination chair was locked into place. Hand crank lowered the back of the chair, until the replika man squinted at the overhead lights.

"We don't have one ready," Elster said, reluctantly strapping down her son's arms. "We would need to wait a few months for one to develop enough for implantation..."

"There isn't time for that," Adler said, testing the fit, each wrist bound by leather to the armrests. He glanced at the Kolibri at his right side. "The Thousand Sons won't linger forever. And there's no way of knowing when we'll cross paths again, if ever." He looked at the ceiling, resolutely. "It has to be now, or we'll lose our best chance..."

Hecate rubbed her scalp, mussing auburn hair. Frowned. "...I guess."

"I don't like it anymore than you do, sweetie," Elster sighed, patting her son's shoulder. "But he's right. Conditions won't be as good as they are now."

"...if you're sure," Hecate said, chewing her thumb. Eyes glancing sidelong at the administrator.

"I am," Adler nodded, stoically.

"..."

Elster and Hecate nodded to one another. The Kolibri began attaching electrodes to Adler's scalp, while the replika commander took up the bioresonance amplification helmet.

Guess we'll learn what it's like, Elster thought, frowning. To peruse a replika's mind after implantation.

 

"Tell me when you're ready."

Water rippled in the glass fishbowl. Where once black silt filled it completely, now much of the waters of Lethe settled to the bottom. New, vibrant fish and aquatic plants waved freely near the surface. The products of a lifetime, even a short one, of individual experience.

Elster gulped. Knowing that, somewhere near the bottom, relics of a bygone life hid from view. Occasionally skimming a fin on the surface of the murky layer, or flashing a colorful scale.

She felt her physical hands pressed against her son's forehead and scalp. Her mental hands poised over the waters. "..."

"...I'm ready," Adler said, his voice almost distant through layers of reality. "Do it."

Elster met Hecate's eyes briefly, the Kolibri nervously poised across from her. The replika commander exhaled, and nodded. "Very well," she said. "Commencing deep memory probe in three. Einz..."

Anticipating Adler would brace on the final count, she elected to gently slip her hands in on "one". She felt her son flinch, physically, and tremble mentally. Heard his distant gasp in surprise. She forced herself to press on, reaching deep.

Fingers plunged as delicately as could be managed into the murky layer. Then, began to probe.

A shiver ran up Elster's spine. Though she rooted around in a "mere" fishbowl, it felt as though she plunged up to her shoulders in an impossibly deep abyss. Not because the administrator had power comparable to a FLKR. Rather, as she rapidly discovered, a single human mind contained multitudes. As deep as any ocean, as complex as any library.

"...are you okay?" Elster breathed, frowning.

"...y-yes..." Adler gasped, furrowing his brow. "Just...get on with it..."

With a nod, Elster probed the abyss. Feeling the currents for movement.

She didn't need to catch anything, by her reckoning. Just a brief contact would do. Long enough to get flashes of memory, from which she might extract the vital detail.

Electricity ran up her arm, as she felt a fish brush against her fingers. Adler and Hecate tensed along with her, as a vision flooded their minds.

---

A flash of lightning. A rumble of thunder.

The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor.

He cringed closer to his mother, tiny hands clutching her hospital gown.

"It's alright," she said weakly. Stroked the back of his head affectionately. "The storm can't hurt you in here..."

It wasn't the storm he feared. Not truly.

"Ngh...hehh..." he sobbed, face buried in her warm side. "...mommy..."

---

"...mommy..."

Adler chewed his lip, feeling an ache in his chest.

"...shh...it's okay..." Elster said softly. Rubbed his head gently. "...we need to keep looking."

She probed on. Searching. Seeking.

Another fish brushed her hand, filling her mind.

---

"Come now, old chap. Enough of these books. We're going on the town."

A thick notebook slammed shut. He sighed, glancing up ruefully.

"Fine," he grumbled, depositing book in his messenger bag, and fountain pen in his shirt pocket. He rose to his feet, hand slicking back his hair. "To town, then."

His university mates chuckled and clapped hands on his shoulders. They crossed the quad, leaving the shade of the elm behind. The sun threatened to dip behind the roof of the high, baroque library.

"What is there to do in town?" he muttered, watching leaves tumble down around him.

"A political rally, they say!" one lad said, adjusting a knitted wool vest.

"A rally?" he said, nervously. Frowned. "What for? The Empire is secure, is it not?"

"Seems like they're happening all the time now, since the Empress bought it!" said another classmate, irreverently.

A year before, such cavalier talk of the Grand Empress would be unthinkable blasphemy.

"Yeah!" laughed still another, skipping as he stepped. "They're talking about a revolution!"

The young man furrowed his brow. "...a revolution?"

---

"Ngh..."

Elster flinched. "Sorry!" she said quickly. "Did that hurt?"

"I-I'm fine," Adler said, gritting his teeth. "Keep going..."

"..."

Elster reached further.

Another fish. Another touch. Another flash.

---

"Mysticism! Hierarchy! Poverty! Exploitation! These are our chains, held by Eusan's ruling elite!"

A cheer rang out. Men and women, stood shoulder to shoulder in the crowded beer hall, clapped, waved, and thrust fists into the air.

The young man made no noise. Could scarcely move.

His eyes locked, transfixed, on the speaker.

"The Grand Empress ruled Eusan for as long as anyone can remember!" she said, slapping a hand on the wooden podium. There were no microphones. All she could rely on was her voice, her steely gaze, and her impassioned oration. "They would have us believe it was always thus, and always would be! Until death came to even that immortal ruler!" She clenched a fist. "An object lesson: if the Empress was not undying, neither is the Empire! There IS another way! A way of Equality, Freedom, and Collective Rule! Where WE, together, are the masters of our fate! Where the value of our labor isn't stolen by parasitic owners, lords, and clergy! Where Bioresonance is treated as a Science that can liberate us, rather than the immutable will of the stars!"

He could barely hear the roar of the crowd over the beating of his own heart. The young man's face flushed.

In a moment that made him shiver, her eyes met his own. Those piercing eyes, that seemed to see through him.

"Will you join me!?" she called, holding out a hand. She seemed, to the young man, to be talking exclusively to him. "Will you count yourselves among the revolutionaries!?"

"YES!" he cried, throwing his fist in the air. He was vaguely aware that others joined him, but he cared not. "I WILL JOIN YOU!"

"REVOLUTION!" the woman cried, her own fist thrust high. Long, dark hair whipping briefly in a wind that seemed to come from nowhere. "REVOLUTION!"

He and the crowd picked up the chant. The beer hall walls thrummed with their voices and stamping feet.

"REVOLUTION! REVOLUTION! REVOLUTION!"

---

"Verdammt..."

A knot formed in Elster's stomach, as she felt her son squirm under her grasp. "It isn't working," she said, gritting her teeth. "If we can't find it soon..."

"We...ngh...c-can't give up," Adler grunted, jerking his head to the side. He sucked air, trying to center himself. "...we...are c-close. I can feel it."

Hecate frowned, looking between them nervously.

"...alright," Elster said, nodding.

She probed deeper. Focused on what she needed to find. Hoping she could entice the right fish to her.

The Great Revolutionary. Her name. Her True Name.

---

"I'm sorry I kept it from you. I couldn't..."

He leaned against the wall. Looked over his shoulder. "...why...keep it a secret, though? Why lie?" he frowned. "Why hide your power? Why give up your throne? You could have been the next Grand Empress by now..."

Hands wrung in her lap.

"...I didn't lie," she said, eyes downcast. "All I preach out there, I believe every word of it. The Empire is unjust. Walking the halls of power, I sense how the clergy, the lords, and the nouveau riche plot and scheme to line their own pockets and secure their own power. Sense how they feel about the common citizen: as objects, assets, and slaves. By contrast, I sense how these same common people suffer." She raised her eyes to her assistant. "I can't in good conscience just...perpetuate that cycle. I couldn't allow myself and my daughter carry on that dynasty. It had to stop."

"..." he chewed his lip, and stared back at the wallpaper.

Clicking of a wall clock filled the silence drawn out between them.

"...what would your mother say?" he said, furrowing his brow. "Is this what the Grand Empress would want?"

"I don't think she liked the system either," she said, weaving her fingers together. Eyes downcast once again. "She saw it all, even more than I did. She can't have been blind. She just..." A sad sigh. "She always seemed to be...waiting for something. For someone."

"Who?" he said, finally turning around. Adjusted his tie.

"At first, it sounded like it was some new man," she said, permitting herself a small smile. "Someone to replace my father, after so many years." She frowned. "But as I grew up, and my daughter came along, she would spin yarns to her about a powerful 'Emperor' from across the stars. A man who was coming to marry her."

He frowned.

"I know, I know," she said, shutting her eyes. She needed not look to see his reaction. He guessed she could sense his feelings. Read him, like she had back when they first met.

"Whatever it was, it must have..." She shook her head. "Anyway. She thought her knight in golden armour would come to sweep her off her feet. To make it all right again. So she let the Empire decay quietly. Holding it all together, seemingly through her own will." She frowned, cracking open her eyes and staring at the hardwood floor. "I didn't want to make that same mistake. Waiting with false hope for a savior who would come to make it all right. I didn't want to...wither away like she did."

"If you're like her," he said, inclining his head forward, "you could take control easily. The priests, the lords...none would dare oppose your coronation. You could reform the Empire from within."

"We both know 'reform' is a lie, told to forestall true progress," she said, smirking grimly. "The Revolution must happen. And I must be seen as a normal woman while doing it. They would just deify me, if I used my Bioresonance and identity to take control. It would be just like the old histories, from before the Dark Times. When kings and queens would spill the blood of their kin, just to secure power for themselves."

She looked up at him. "It has to be a Revolution by, and for, the people. Their collective will, their collective power. Bioresonance used only as a tool, a Science to be wielded by a wiser, more forward-thinking Nation. Eusan and her people have outgrown the archaic concept of the Divine Right of Kings. Just as a child outgrows rule by their parent. It's time to leave the age of Empresses and Emperors in the past, and to the fairy tales, where they belong."

"..."

The man smiled. Clasped his hands behind his back. "Well said, ma'am."

"You're...willing to still follow me? After I deceived you?" she said, frowning. A look of pain flashed across her face. "You would continue to trust me?"

"I would," he nodded. "Because even if you weren't being entirely honest...you spoke honestly, up there at the podium. Your words ring true." He looked away, coughing into his fist. "...although, if we're getting it all out in the open..."

She smiled sadly. "...you want to know my name?"

"We all understood why you would go by pseudonyms and code names," he said, slicking back his hair out of habit. "Empire authorities and the church would hound you and your daughter to the ends of Vineta...to the ends of the system itself, if they knew." He sighed, side-eyeing her. "And in retrospect...I know now why you'd want to keep your heritage a secret." He turned to her. "...but if I'm going to keep working for you...I need to know who you are. Who you really are."

The chair creaked. Long, dark hair tumbled down her back. Fingers smoothed out a long overcoat.

"You're right," she said. She held out her hand.

He took it gladly. Thinking how incredibly beautiful she was. If she was casting some kind of enchantment or glamour over him, he didn't care. It felt good. It felt right. It felt true.

Shaking her assistant's hand, the Revolutionary smiled.

"Nice to meet you. My name is ____."

---

"HAH!"

Adler gasped, clutching the arms of his chair frantically. "What!?" he breathed, wincing. "What was...agh..."

"I don't..." Elster muttered, furrowing her brow. She rubbed her son's head. "It was right there. It just..."

"Go back!" Adler barked, head twisting in her grasp as he turned to looked at her. "Check that memory again!"

"I can't!" Elster said, leaning over. "I lost contact the moment the memory cut off! It swam away."

"Tch," Adler said, grimacing. "F-find another! It has to be there!"

"Adler..." Hecate breathed, frowning, "...please. It's not safe."

"Hec's right," Elster said, preparing to pull her hands gently from the depths of his memory. "We can't tax you like this. You'll get..."

"Just do it!" Adler spat, fingers digging into the padded armrests.

"...okay..." Elster breathed, nodding.

"Elster, we can't..." Hecate said, but frowned. She could feel their resolve. "..."

Inhaling, Elster reluctantly plunged deeper. Sought the Great Revolutionary's True Name again.

---

Boom!

Dirt ceiling rumbled. Dust cascaded to the floor of wooden planks. Collected on paper maps, leaving a dark brown film. Air pregnant with blood, death, and the acrid smell of gunsmoke.

Gestalt and replika soldiers stood at attention, even as they flinched with each nearby impact of artillery shells. Scared, tired eyes watched them pass.

"You can't go out there!" he said, following two steps behind. Hands nervously adjusted his helmet. "It's suicide. You're their leader!"

She waited until they rounded a corner, before responding. "I'll be fine," she said, frowning. "I'll be protected from bullets and shrapnel. I need to turn the tide, or this battle is lost."

"You can't go out there and...use your powers!" he said, lowering his voice and looking frantically over his shoulder. "Was it not you who said you needed to be seen as a normal woman?"

"The propaganda win won't mean anything, if we're defeated," she said. "Sooner or later, I'll..."

The two halted, stepping aside to permit medics passage. A stretcher bore a groaning, bleeding gestalt.

The Revolutionary shivered, watching one of her people disappear deeper into the bunker.

He studied her face. He knew she felt the poor woman's pain.

"...you can't save them all," he said, lowering his voice. "They knew what they signed up for."

"Did they?" she breathed, chewing her lip. "I told them victory would be swift. That Vineta would be ours within the year. That was two years ago."

"We're all doing the best we can."

"Except for me," she growled, starting to walk. "Every minute I hold myself back, more good people-"

"____!" he barked, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "STOP!"

She halted, looking over her shoulder. Tears welled in her eyes. "I..."

---

"NGH!"

"Adler!" Hecate barked, holding the man's shoulder as he writhed in pain. "We need to stop!"

"N-no!" he grunted, grimacing. "We're so...c-close!"

A pit formed in her stomach. Elster frowned. "...come on..." she breathed, gritting her teeth. "...why is it...?"

But as she plunged again, she started to see the pattern.

---

Feet tapped on the polished floor, as bodies twirled and stepped. Music wafted from the record player, drifting across a ballroom empty save for guards posted at all entrances.

Hand in hand, the waltzing gestalts smiled at one another.

"You're sure you want to go through with this?" he said, attention divided between conversation, staring at her beautiful face, and not tripping on his own shoes.

"There's no stopping it, or us. Before we know it," said the Revolutionary, "Vineta will be ours. Once we deploy in force, loyalist resistance will crumble."

"You're that confident?" he said, looking her in the eyes.

"Absolutely," she nodded. Piercing eyes locked on his own. "The will of the people is indomitable. The Revolution unstoppable."

They smiled again. She pressed her forehead against his. "...I think I love you..."

He shut his eyes, letting all apprehension melt away. Lowered his voice, so even the distant guards couldn't hear.

"I love you, too, ____..."

 

"...it didn't have to be like this...what have we done?"

Cold wind blew in from a sea...that hadn't been there the month prior.

Long, dark hair billowed, as the Great Revolutionary stared out at a trio of skyscrapers jutting from the water.

"It's not your fault," he said, hands clasped behind his back. "If the loyalists simply..."

"Please," she breathed, her voice hitched. "Don't. Don't try to absolve me." She looked over her shoulder, smiling sadly. "I'm responsible for this. It's all my fault..."

He frowned, then cupped his hand to her cheek. "I'm sorry, ____. I'm so sorry..."

 

"...yes...right there..."

Lips traced the contours of her warm neck. Tasted her sweat. Nostrils inhaled her scent.

"...baby...baby please..." she moaned, fingers digging into his back.

He combed his fingers through her long, dark hair.

"...oh ____...my love...____!"

 

POP.

A scream. The acrid smell of gunsmoke. In the distance, the discharge of weapons. Soldiers cornered and executed the would-be assassin.

"Y-you didn't need to do that, you idiot!" the Great Revolutionary barked, on her knees. Hands clutching his blood-besotted jacket. "I'm bullet-proof!"

Over her shoulder, her Daughter clapped a hand over her mouth. Tears rolling down her cheeks.

He smiled weakly. "...c-can't...let your...c-cover go now..." he coughed. Tasted iron in his mouth.

"Y-you fool..." she sobbed, voicing hitching. Mouth quivering. "Y-you damned, bloody fool..."

She flinched, tears breaking out, as he pressed a bloodied hand to her cheek.

"...it's always...b-been...about y-you..." he gasped, smiling. "...my...Empress...my dear...____...."

---

"ELSTER, STOP IT! ADLER IS-"

Elster's eyes shot open, and she shivered. "Adler!"

"AGH...ngh...ah..." Adler sputtered, face contorting in pain. Oxident ran from his nose, as he began to convulse. Had his wrists hosted even a single artery, they would have opened at the force against which his artificial muscles contracted against their bonds. "...ack..."

"No!" Elster yelled. With a moment's concentration, she extricated herself from her son's mind as quickly as she could risk. "Adler, hang on!"

"Haah!" Adler gasped, a pressure released from his throbbing head. Where he arched his back in pain, he collapsed now into the reclined chair. Panted desperately.

"Get him out! Quickly!" Elster breathed, frantically pawing at the leather straps. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hecate detach electrodes from his head.

"...n-ngh...no...stop..." Adler groaned, burying his wincing face in his newly freed hands. Bent over, fingers rubbing his scalp where the electrodes once attached. "...why..."

Elster ripped off her helmet and set it aside. "Adler, it's going to be okay," she said, rubbing his shoulder. "Don't strain yourself." She looked to the Kolibri. "Hec, summon Rose, Heidi...anyone. He needs medical aid..."

"O-okay!" Hecate stammered, nodding. "Right!" She shut her eyes, focusing.

"N-no! I don't need...!" Adler sat up, rubbing his face. "W-why did you stop?"

Elster blinked, then frowned. "Because I was hurting you!" she said, incredulous. Clapped a hand on his arm. "I was killing you, Adler!"

"But we almost had it!" Adler yelled, gesturing in the air. He wiping his upper lip, glancing absentmindedly at the oxident on his fingers. He grimaced. "I could have held out longer! The name was there, I know it! If we just looked deeper..."

"No, Adler!" Elster yelled, grabbing him by both shoulders and looking him directly in the eyes. Their faces centimeters apart. "You don't get it! IT'S. NOT. THERE."

"..."

Adler shrank back, confused. "...what?" he gasped, frowning. "No, no, no! It has to be there!"

"We saw several instances where the Great Revolutionary's name should have been there, and it just wasn't!" Elster said, giving her son's shoulder a shake once, for emphasis. "Why? Because it's not there anymore. It's gone."

"...no...it can't..." Adler breathed, eyes widening. Despite his protests, the implications set in.

"Your gestalt knew the Great Revolutionary's True Name," Elster said, lowering her voice. She swallowed, and spoke slower. "She obviously cared enough about you...about him, to extract his neural pattern. Couldn't live without him. But replika creation suppresses memories, it doesn't erase them." She furrowed her brow. "Any ADLR model they produced would be a security risk," she said. "Because they, and she, knew what kind of power a bioresonant individual could have over her if they knew her True Name." She gestured forcefully at the helmet by her side. "And they knew this very thing might happen."

"...please...they didn't..." Adler gasped, slouching down in his seat. His body deflating. Hand pressed to his cheek, as his face grew pale. "...no..."

"Adler," Elster said, softly. All energy escaped her body, as she grasped the full force of the blow she was about to deal her son. "...to keep the Great Revolutionary safe...they burned her True Name out of your neural pattern, before it ever saw replikation."

"..."

Hecate looked at both of them, and promptly stood up. "...I'll get the others," she said, holding her hands out nervously. "Just...hang on..."

Clank, clank, clank. Shiff.

The workshop was silent.

Mother and son regarded each other in shock, horror, and pain.

"...Adler..." Elster breathed, shuffling over to sit on the edge of the chair. Her voice soft. She extended a hand. "I'm sorry. But I don't think it's possible to extract her True Name from your memory...no matter how hard we dig. If it's there, it's buried so deep, even the Nation couldn't find it."

Adler stared at his mother, then down at his hands. They shook violently. "..."

Finally, he leaned over and hugged his mother.

She accepted it with open arms. Shut her eyes and patted his back, feeling his violent sobs.

Adler wept.

Notes:

I'll be out of town for the next couple weeks, visiting family. Updates will resume then.

Chapter 86: It Was Bound To Happen

"Don't get yourselves killed out there."

The young gestalt man and woman waved sheepishly, blushing, as they departed the Star dorm. Their Spireguard uniforms wrinkled, the lad carrying his boots with him.

Kite smiled, leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. Hastily dressed in mismatched cotton t-shirt and shorts.

"...Kite?"

The Star flinched, looking to her left. "Oh hey, how's it going Mer?"

"..." The blue-haired Eule watched the gestalts leave, catching their eyes. They blushed further, and ducked around a corner. Meryl looked up at the Star, frowning. "...did you have fun?"

"Heh heh, yeah," Kite chuckled, smiling. She shook her head, frowning. "Those poor kids. From how they talked about it, they went from rookies to veterans in a day. Looked like they needed a break from...all this." Kite waved dismissively at the air.

"You call them kids," Meryl said, narrowing her eyes. "They're both at least a decade older than you."

"And my gestalt was a full-grown adult when she got harvested," Kite said, shrugging. "So I still have seniority on them, I think. Do you disagree?"

Meryl sighed, looking at the ground. Shrugged. "I guess not..."

"..." Kite turned her head, looking down at the Eule. Furrowed her brow. "...you okay? Long shift?"

"Yes, and yes," Meryl said, crossing her arms. She looked up at the Star, continuing to frown. "I'm fine."

"Nothing's wrong?" Kite said.

"...nope," Meryl lied. Furrowing her own brow.

Kite scratched her cheek pensively. "...I should have invited you to join last night, huh?"

"N-no, that's alright," Meryl said, shaking her head. She looked away. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Hmm..."

Meryl looked back up. "What?"

The Star grinned. "Oh my," Kite said. "Meryl, are you jealous?"

Meryl blinked, leaning back in surprise. Color rushing to her face. "What? Wh-what are you...?"

"The girl who just wants to have fun, and doesn't have time for a serious relationship," Kite said, inclining her head back fractionally, "is jealous of me being with other people?"

"N-no! I am NOT jealous!" Meryl lied, balling her fists and leaning forward. Her face turned beet red. "I'm perfectly fine with our relationship as it is!"

"...you sure?" Kite said, diminishing her smile slightly.

"Y-yes!" Meryl said, looking away sharply. Her mouth screwed up, as she stared at the floor. "F-fuck whoever you like! I...I don't mind..."

"..." Kite shrugged, then stretched her arms over her head. "If you say so."

As the Star slipped back into the dorm, Meryl looked back over. She extended a hand - a call stuck in her throat - then sadly let it drop. "..."

Shing.

"..." Meryl turned around and rubbed her arm.

"...stupid Star," she muttered, walking away.

Nonetheless, she felt the stupidest of all.

 

"Another dead end, then?"

Bodies clogged the passage to the port airlock. Astartes, gestalts, and replikas milled about, trading banter and farewells.

In one corner, the Techmarine performed one final pre-departure examination of the power armored replikas. When Daisy sidled up beside him, he passed off a dataslate containing schematics for select automata patterns. Diodana, leaning against the wall, clucked behind her respirator disapprovingly, but said nothing. Olga and Bertha traded tips with a Spireguard on tank operations.

Elster eyed the exchanges warmly, smiling. She sighed, smile fading. "...ja. We couldn't find the answer in Adler's mind."

"I could attempt my own examination of your administrator," Captain Intef said, raising a hand, palm up. "If he consented to it. I may be able to find what you seek."

Adler's eyes lit up, but then he frowned. Cast his face down, to stare at the floor. "...much as I appreciate the offer, my lord..."

"...we...think the result would be the same," Elster said, shutting her eyes. Pinched the bridge of her nose. "Our former government would have been as thorough as possible, scouring his neural pattern of every trace of the Great Revolutionary's name. Moreover, I can't put him in further danger."

"..." The administrator rubbed his arm, crestfallen.

Intef nodded, resting his free hand on the helmet magnetized to his belt. He frowned in sympathy. "I understand," he said. "You'll forgive me if I use the same rationale for...not continuing attempts at implantation for your troublesome shade."

"It's quite alright, capitän," Elster nodded, looking up at his bronzed face. "I know your own quest is more important than assisting us."

"Unfortunately," Intef said, soberly. "Zoser picked up the trail of the shard. We cannot afford any more delays, lest it escape our grasp again." He inclined his head forward fractionally. "What will you do now?"

"We haven't quite decided," Elster said, crossing her arms and huffing. She jerked her head once to Adler. "There may be hope that someone involved in the original manufacture of FLKR units may still live back in Eusan. Someone who may know the Great Revolutionary's True Name. Though..."

"...it's a forlorn hope," Adler sighed, rubbing his face. His shoulders slumped, emotionally drained. "Even if the Great Revolutionary's Daughter trusted anyone else with her mother's True Name, the chances they survived the Invasion are...slim."

"Still," Elster said, looking at her son, "it's a better lead than anything we have right now."

"You think of returning home?" Intef said, cocking an eyebrow. He smiled fractionally. "It may be wise. Our prognostications predict the war will only intensify from here...though forces are likely to converge on Terra before long, which may leave the way clearer. Moreover...you have a home to return to."

"My apologies, capitan," Elster said, frowning and bowing her head. "I didn't mean..."

"It's quite alright," Intef said, waving a hand gently.

"While returning home would be pleasant," Adler said, looking at his mother, "and I'd like to follow any lead we can...the journey home will be long and perilous. There are other tasks we may complete, to satisfy...our commander's debt."

"If it's alright with you," Elster said, frowning. She side-eyed her son. "We can always go right away..."

"If someone remembers her True Name, and they survived all this time," Adler said, clasping his hands behind his back, "they will likely 'keep' for a while longer. Unless they're elderly, or discovered by the local government, that is..." He looked away, trying to suppress trepidation.

"..." Elster pursed her lips, a knot forming in her stomach.

Intef eyed them both, fingers playing on the shaft of his staff. "...I will say, if we're able to revive our Father, he may be able to assist us in divining your erstwhile Revolutionary's name."

The two replikas snapped to attention.

"You could do that?" Adler said, eyes widening. He furrowed his brows, afraid to get his hopes up again.

"Records we retain, previously sequestered from Magnus's personal archives, speak of ancient magi who plucked the True Names of daemons from the Warp, through extensive meditation and divination," Intef said. "Truth be told, the methods to even attempt it seem beyond my talents, or the talents of our dedicated prognosticars. But if anyone could astral project into the Immaterium and find the lost knowledge of your Sorcerer Queen, it would be Magnus the Red."

"You don't have to do that," Elster frowned, rubbing her shoulder guiltily. "We've already taken enough of your time, and more besides. You don't need to promise your Primarch's assistance too."

"I promise nothing," Intef said, shrugging. "I merely say we will do what we can. If nothing else, our Father may be intrigued by your situation." He turned away, lowing his voice. "...and by the power a fully realized Falke may yield..."

The three remained silent, digesting the mercenary nature implicit in his words. And in their relationship.

Several steps away, as the giant replikas filed out, the tiniest ones walked in.

Circe, Isis, and Shahrazad stopped before the Thousand Sons Apothecary. The latter flanked by company serfs, their embroidered silk robes faded and threadbare. They carried tomes in their hands.

"You didn't need to do all this for us," Circe said, craning her head back to look at the Astartes. She rubbed her hands nervously, eyeing the texts.

"We were unable to solve your principle problem," said Qar, spreading his arms out to gesture to the gifts. "The least we can do is provide suitable compensation."

"Those aren't books straight from your libraries, are they?" Shahrazad said, pressing a thumb to her lips. "We can't accept such priceless works."

"Fret not, for we tasked our serfs to copy and collate these tomes," Qar said. He motioned one of the gestalts forward. Upon closer inspection, the books were indeed bound in fresh leather. The smell of new parchment and ink wafted from them. "Knowledge is like a flame. It can be endlessly shared, like one candle lighting another."

"W-we graciously accept your gifts, my lord," Circe said, accepting a proffered text and bowing.

"These two texts here are instructions on learning the Art of Warding, Banishing, Summoning, and Binding," Qar said. "The Captain said it may be integral to your future attempts at creating a Falke, if you uncover her gestalt's True Name."

Intef chimed in. "The first tome covers Warding and Banishing," he said, leaning on his staff. "It is of the utmost important to gain a working knowledge, if not mastery, of the material in that text, before even attempting the material in the other. I cannot stress enough the dangers of tangling with beings from the Immaterium. You must be able to put down what you call up, or they'll run wild."

"Understood," Circe nodded, taking the second tome with trepidation. The texts were broad and thick. She staggered under the weight of them. "Hoof! Th-thank you."

"For your storyteller, we have provided a compilation of tales from Prospero," Qar continued, as a serf passed along another tome to Shahrazad. "...with our home gone, it is paramount its stories are not erased along with its people."

Shahrazad gazed wide-eyed down at the book in her hands, then clasped it to her chest. "I-I'll treasure it, Herr Heiler!" she breathed, nodding up at him. "You have my word."

"See that you do," Qar said. He turned, and this time took one final book into his own hands. He stomped forward. "And for you, Isis..."

"M-me!?" Isis said, eyes widening. With shaky hands, she accepted the book the white-clad marine handed to her. "Wh-what is...?"

She flinched, as the marine stooped to one knee, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know well the regret that comes from not being able to heal those important to you," Qar said, softly. "To watch them die, while you can do nothing. The...Burning wasn't the first time I experienced it, and it will not be the last." He exhaled from his nose, permitting himself a small smile. "This tome contains spells of healing and curing. For closing lacerations, banishing bruises, treating disease, and restoring damaged organs. That, and plenty of information about mundane medicine, knowledge any good healer should be well acquainted, magical or otherwise."

Isis sucked air, staring down at the tome. Her skin went pale.

Then, trembling, she looked at the marine with tears forming in her eyes. "...haff..." she gasped.

The marine's brows rose fractionally, as the Kolibri hugged his broad chest. "Oh," he breathed, raising his arms.

"Th-thank you!" Isis sobbed, burying her face in his crimson breastplate. She drew back, pressing the book to her chest and rubbing her eyes. "Thank you, thank you. I-I'll learn it! All of it!"

The Apothecary smiled more warmly. "It is my pleasure, little one," he said, patting her shoulder again. "I'm sorry I cannot tutor you in a greater capacity. I've done what I can. The rest is up to you."

Circe tucked her heavy books under her arm, and hugged her crying daughter around the shoulders. "I'll make sure she learns," she said, smiling.

"See that you do," Qar said. He rose to his feet, and regarded the Kolibri soberly. "Remember this axiom: Knowledge is power..."

The Kolibri looked up at the Apothecary reverently.

"...so keep it well."

 

Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding. Ding. Ding-ding.

Artificial knuckles rapped against a metal pipe. They pulled away, their owner listening to the sound echo down the utility tunnel. Water dripped from a crack in the ceiling, and light filtered down through a grate to the concrete floor.

The gestalt held her breath. Side-eyed her companion. "...do you think-?"

"Shh!" the replika said, holding up a hand. Stared into the darkness from under the brim of a brown leather hat.

"..."

Ding. Ding-ding. Ding.

As the noise filtered back from the darkness, the LSTR unit sighed. "We're free to approach," Margaret said, nodding.

"O-oh!" Anja Itou breathed, watching her companion stalk forward. The old woman hefted her brown paper bag close to her chest, and followed.

They passed under dim light filtering from the level above, before slipping into darkness. After several paces, Margaret thumbed on her flashlight, keeping its warm glow to the ground.

When they slipped around a corner, another flashlight activated in the distance.

"You followed?"

Anja blinked at the shine in her eyes, before looking back around the corner.

Margaret simply shrugged, not bothering to look. "Nope," she said, approaching. "Anything break while I was away?"

"Heh...naw." The Storch lowered her flashlight to the floor. By the shine bouncing off the gray concrete, her smirking face showed. "Boring as always," Beatrice said, waving them over. She tilted her head to the side. "You figure out what all the commotion was topside? Or, I guess 'mid-side' now..."

The engineer nodded, rooting a hand in her trenchcoat. She removed and unfolded a newspaper. "See for yourself," Margaret said, turning the paper front page up. Shined her flashlight over it.

"...the hell?" Beatrice muttered, squatting to lean over the paper, eyebrows furrowed. She frowned, eyes taking in the headline.

GOVERNOR EXECUTED, EUSAN WELCOMES SONS OF HORUS

"The battles in orbit swung firmly in the favor of the Warmaster," Margaret said, handing the paper off to the Storch. "Eusan is under new management. As are, it seems, the newspapers."

"Is that all of Eusan?" Beatrice said, holding the paper up to scan the first paragraph.

"That's what they're saying on the radio, yes," Anja said, squeezing up next to the replikas, to remain in the tiny bubbles of light. She looked back toward the corner fretfully. "I'll say it, I never liked the Governor the Imperium put in Heimat. Still, he probably didn't deserve what those marines did to him."

"The Sons of Horus also invaded the Machine Cult on and around Kitezh," Margaret said, fishing her coat pockets again. "The guy in charge of the forges there - the Magos, I think they call them - surrendered after four hours." She pulled out a bottle of scavenged liquor and handed it off as well. "Here."

"Thanks," Beatrice said, smiling as she tucked the paper under her arm and studied the bottle. "...shit. You think they killed the guy who ordered the Pogrom?"

"Would he even have stayed in Eusan?" Margaret said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's probably not right to wish ill on someone," Anja said scratching her cheek. She shifted her load to her other arm. "But I hope that man got what he deserved."

"We can only hope," the Storch said, shrugging. "Would be a shame we replikas didn't get a chance to do it ourselves." She stood, bent low under the short ceiling. "That food?"

"Yes," Anja nodded, smiling. "And other things besides. I know Charity's girls wanted sweet things, and Poppy and Erica were asking for some parts they couldn't scrounge....WOO!" She flinched, feeling something brush against her leg. "Ah! Y-you!" she muttered, looking down.

"Oh, there you are," Beatrice said, directing her flashlight at the repli-kat weaving between the old woman's legs. Her synthetic brown fur showed black stripes beneath the warm glow. Artificial eyes flashed as she twisted her head to the Storch. "Kris has been looking for you everywhere. Have a nice stroll in the rot-hive?"

"Mrrow..." whined the cat, hiking up on her hind legs to paw at the elderly Itou's leg.

"M-my hands are full, sweetie," Anja said, smiling awkwardly down at the animal. "Maggie, dear, can you...?"

"Right," Margaret said, squatting. She presented a hand to the repli-kat, allowing her to sniff the black fingers. "Come on, up you go," she said, picking the animal up in her arms. "Let's get you back. There's a good girl."

The three began the trek down the tunnel, through the maze of corridors and hidden passages.

"...hoo..." Anja sighed, trudging along as best she could. Hefting her bag with both hands. "...do you think those 'psychic storms' will clear up anytime soon?"

"Charity says the ghosts told her it'll be a while yet," Beatrice grunted, hand tracing the ceiling over her stooped head. "But also said it might get weaker soon. Or so the news on the other side has been..."

The Storch went silent.

"...what's the matter?" Anja said, eyes fixed on Beatrice's back.

"...is it what Charity said?" Margaret breathed, frowning. Hand petting the replika feline in her arms. "About...her kid?"

"..." Beatrice stopped for a moment, turning her face away.

"Which kid?" Anja said, looking at Margaret. Then back at the Storch. "Elster's? Did something happen down here?"

Beatrice sucked air, preparing to speak. Shut her mouth. Glanced over her shoulder, her eyebrows curled in sadness. Then back forward. "Not down here," she said. "Out there. Charity said her old cadre met one of Elster's kids, on the other side."

"Oh goodness!" Anja moaned, shifting her bag to one arm so she could touch her cheek.

"Which one was it, again?" Margaret said, frowning.

The Storch chewed her lower lip, then started walking again. "...the Storch. Hippolyta."

"Oh, Beatrice, I'm so sorry," Anja said, hurrying to catch up as the replikas walked forward.

"It's alright," Beatrice sighed, leading them around another corner. Her voice was low. "...she knew what she was signing up for."

Margaret and Anja glanced at one another.

"..."

They continued on in silence.

Beatrice patted the bottle tucked in her belt, hearing it slosh with each step.

"...guess we'll be toasting one tonight."

 

"Do you always dress up for this?"

Fingers tapped buttons and flipped switches. Vibrations rumbled through the hull, as blast shields blocked the stars from view. Over the intercom, Maria ran through a last pre-jump checklist to the crew. She began counting down.

The replika commander adjusted her Eusan Empire dress hat. Fingers played with the hem of the coat draped over her shoulders, fixed by a gold-plated chain and clasp. "This trip could take anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours, if Circe is correct," Elster said. "If we pop back into Realspace, and we have company immediately, I want to be ready to make a good first impression. Or at least a strong one."

"It's why we have to be on deck, sporting weapons," Dash said, sticking her facemask on. She removed the strap from her shoulder, propping her favorite shotgun against the wall.

Stretching arms behind her head, the Storch grunted. "Ngh...guess that makes sense," Artemis said, looking down at her commander with one eye. "Is that also why you're wearing that thing on your belt?"

"..." Elster placed a hand on the hilt of her power sword. The angel wing crossguard bathed red as the emergency lights came on. "Yes."

"She also does it because she wants to look cool," Double Tap said, elbowing Dash in the side, as the two Stars strapped themselves into wall-mounted seats behind their mother. "Right?"

Elster puffed her cheeks, and pulled the rim of her hat over her eyes. "...no comment."

"Heh heh!" Artemis chuckled. "Are you blushing, El?"

"That's the emergency lights," Elster lied. She smiled. "Diodana. Are we ready?"

"Affirmative," said the tech adept, looking over her shoulder. Four photo-receptors shining green in the pre-translation gloom. "All systems nominal."

"You sure we want to do this detour?" Double Tap said, crossing her long legs. She leaned back, arms folded behind her head. "We could just go home."

"It's just one brief errand," Elster said, crossing her arms. "We're already in the neighborhood. Just a hop to that system, and we can head home."

"Hmm," Double Tap hummed, nodding.

"...Home, huh?" Artemis said, taking a handhold and leaning against the wall. "I've always thought of the Nomarch as home. Is Eusan really so special?"

"To be fair, Eusan hasn't always been the greatest," Elster shrugged. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the Storch's gaze sidelong. "At least, not after Vineta got flooded. And then the invasion."

"We barely spent more than a few weeks on the planets proper," Dash said, resting her shotgun in her lap. Compulsively checked the safety, and pulled the slide back to inspect the rock salt round in the chamber. "Most of us DO consider the Nomarch home, more than Eusan itself."

"I'm pretty sure, aside from work on the Joys of Duty," Tulip said, looking over her shoulder from where she sat at the pilot's console, "Rue hasn't been off the Nomarch at all since she was created."

"Eyes front, ARAR-N0602," Diodana said, tapping her console. "Be ready to translate."

"R-right," Tulip said, turning around. She flipped the cover off the button, thumb poised against it. Trained her ears to the intercom.

"...sieben...sechs...fünf..."

"Hang tight," Elster said, both hands gripped the captain's console in front of her.

She didn't know why her heart beat so fast.

"...drei...zwei..."

After all these years, their translations were always successful. Routine. Nothing ever happened.

Never.

"...eins...Commencing Warp Translation!"

At that cue, as she'd done countless times before, Tulip swallowed and slammed her thumb on the button.

The room plunged into darkness for a brief second, as all power diverted to the Warp Drive.

Everyone aboard felt a suddenly lurch. A pit formed in their collective stomachs, as they experienced the sensation of freefall.

Almost as soon as they went, the emergency lights flickered back on. Bathing them in red, and then white light.

"...Warp translation successful," Diodana said, looking up from her screens.

Elster exhaled, unclenching a knot in her chest. "..."

"Boring as always," Artemis sighed, stepping from the wall and stretching again. "Think I can pop down to the kitchen for a snack?"

"Sure," the replika commander said, shutting her eyes. Massaged the space between her eyes.

"Get me an apple or something, would you?" Double Tap said, unbuckling her harness.

"Sure," the Storch said, turning toward the door, "I can-"

The lights flickered. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

"...what was that?" Dash said, looking at the ceiling.

"Does that happen often?" Artemis said, looking over her shoulder.

"Not usually," Elster said, narrowing her eyes.

"Warp turbulence is hardly surprising," Diodana said, halfway up from her seat. Her photo-recepters wandered toward her screens again. "It should pass momen-"

ZZZRRR.

A brief pulse. It vibrated through the hull, the air, their very bodies. Everyone felt it.

It felt horrible.

"..."

Elster blinked. A pit formed in her stomach. "..."

Artemis looked around. "...the hell was-?"

"I didn't touch anything!" Tulip said, throwing her hands up.

ZZZRRRRRRR.

The bridge crew flinched, as lights flickered, and vibrations ran up their spines.

"What in the Omnissiah's name..." Diodana muttered. She looked down at the floor. "...oh dear..."

Elster inhaled, ready to speak, when she shivered. The air in her lungs was bitter cold. Goosebumps formed on her scalp.

Her eyes widened. "...Dio-"

BEEE. BEEE. BEEE.

"Damnation!" Diodana cried, leaning over her station. Her metal face lit up by flashing lights, as warning bells issued from the speakers. "Th-the Geller Field! It's-!"

ZZZZZZRRRRRR.

Overhead lights flickered continuously. The thrumming through the ship - the air, their bodies - persisted. Like the beating of a baleful heart.

Then, the whispers started.

Bridge crew shrank in on themselves, yelping and whipping their heads around.

Elster froze. Visible breath issued from her mouth and nostrils. Eyes widened, as the full ramifications settled into her.

The shadows grew deeper. The air colder.

One by one, screens positioned throughout the bridge flickered and glitched out. Filled with artifacts, analog and digital.

In the noise onscreen, unnerved bridge crew saw flashes of leering faces.

Mmmrrrr.

The hull of the Nomarch groaned.

"...scheisse...scheisse..." Elster breathed, mouth contorting in mounting unease.

"Wh-what's going on?" Artemis said, scowling. She looked around, fumbling at the SMG slung from her shoulders. "Where's that whispering coming from?" She looked at the tech priest. "What's a Geller Field?"

"Scheisse, scheisse, scheisse!" Dash muttered, as she and Double Tap scrambled to their hooves. She clutched her shotgun, unsure if it would be of any use.

"D-Diodana..." Elster wheezed, eyes darting from screens to shadows to her panicking children. "What's wrong with the Geller Field? Is it going to hold!?"

"Technocal difficulties," Diodana said, clenching her metal hand hard. She tapped buttons and flipped switches. "Geller Field device still holding, but..."

"But what!?" Elster barked, looking over. "What's happening?"

"Output...unstable," Diodana said, as clinically as she could muster. Analysis alone kept her from panicking herself. "It will hold, but not well. Stresses on the field abnormally high, for this region of space."

"Circe said there wasn't any Warp storms, didn't she?" Double Tap said, uneasily staring at a screen. She flinched as it flashed the image of a hideous face. Her face went pale.

Circe! Elster thought, shouting into the aether. The Geller Field is...struggling. What's going on?

It was a scant few seconds before she got a response. She could scarcely hear her own thoughts - or her daughter's - over the whispering. Elster realized the whispering was half in her head.

...s-something's wrong, Circe thought. It came almost as a whine. They're pressing in. We...OH EMPRESS!

Circe? CIRCE!

Another thrum in the air, more violent this time.

"...Dio!" Elster barked, looking up. "We need to get out of the Warp! Now!"

"Affirmative!" Diodana said, nodding. She jerked her head to the left. "Tulip! Emergency Realspace Translation, post-haste! As we practiced!"

"R-right!" Tulip yelled, furiously tapping buttons and flipping switches. She fed data into her console. Watched, through the haze of digital artifacts, the Warp Drive preparing to divert power again. There was no time for a clean jump. They needed out, and NOW.

"..." Elster locked her jaw. Cold sweat rolled down her face. "...come on..." she groaned, hands locked in a death grip on her console. "...come ON..."

Tulip uncovered the button again, and rested her thumb over it. "Initiating transla-...eh?"

The Ara's eyes widened in fear, as an inhuman face appeared in the static, filling the whole screen before her. Fanged, fire-eyed, and red.

Electricity coruscated across the console, as the eyes glowed brighter.

They're coming! Circe shouted across the ether. THEY'RE GETTING IN!

Crack. SHINK.

"GAH!" Tulip gasped, looking down at the brass blade that pierced her stomach.

The bridge froze.

"...T-TULIP!" Elster cried, watching her second child stumble back from her seat, clutching her stomach and rolling on the ground.

Crunch. Shink. MMRRRR. Crack. Crack. CRACK.

The pilot console's screen shattered, sparks flashing out.

Gasping, leaking oxidizing fluid, Tulip rolled and crawled back frantically. Coughing up scarlet, she pressed her back against the base of the captain's console. "...hah...ah!"

Everyone on the bridge flinched at the flash, and the sound of grinding, tearing metal. At glass and beige plastic shattering, to litter the floor.

From the smoking, sparking ruin of the console, a figure emerged. Clawed hands gripped a two-handed sword of brass, tip stained and dripping scarlet.

Boss? thought Mik'hul, voice distant and difficult to hear over the roar of the Warp. You probably already know this, but...

Elster gritted her teeth, heart racing. Her fingers trembled, as she groped frantically for her sword. "...no..."

...we have company. A lot of company.

Taloned, digitigrade feet stepped from the rubble, bringing the creature to its full height. From its elongated cranium, black, curved horns pointed toward the ceiling. Crimson skin bumpy, akin to scales, under which flexed bulging muscles. Eyes like burning embers regarded the assembled victims with rage and relish.

From its fanged mouth lolled a gray, serpentine tongue. It brought the sword tip to his face and lapped the oxident greedily. Savored a taste novel for even its experienced palate.

The Bloodletter hefted its Hellblade with both hands. Voice a low, gravely growl.

"Blood...for the Blood God..."

Notes:

This next arc would have done better if I started it during October. C'est la vie.

Welcome to the Warp!

Chapter 87: Brawl on the Bridge

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the-!"

BAM!

Rock salt pellets blasted across the bridge, slamming into the Bloodletter's crimson face. It flinched, scowling.

A spent shell clattered, smoking, to the metal floor.

"Get away from her, you bitch!" Dash shouted, aiming down the barrel of her shotgun. The air filled with the scent of oxident, and the acrid smell of gunsmoke.

"RRAGH!" the daemon growled, flashing its serpentine tongue. It took a step forward, talons scratching the floor.

BAM!

Raising its Hellblade, the Bloodletter blocked the salt shot from hitting its face. The particles that hit flesh seemed to do nothing.

"Tulip, get away!" Elster yelled, hopping over the captain's console. Hands deftly drew her power sword.

Krunch!

"Ah!" Diodana cried, abandoning her seat as her own console burst open. "By the Omnissiah!"

"Bei Gottes Eiern!" Artemis barked, aiming her SMG. "More of them!?"

Krunch!

"Fuck!" cried an Ara, manning a weapons station on the port side wall. She bolted toward the exit, as her controls and screen cracked and melted. Sparks and fire jetted out.

"Blood!" cried the first Bloodletter, charging at Tulip.

Clang!

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, their swords locked together. She strained, holding the daemon's blade back. Gritting her teeth, she barked over her shoulder, "Move!"

"Hah...ngh!" Tulip grunted, crawling around the captain's console. Oxident seeped through fingers pressed to her stomach, leaking to the floor. A fleeing Ara grabbed her under the shoulder and hauled her to her hooves.

"Get behind me!" Dash yelled, walking sideways to get a clear line of sight of the crimson figure emerging from the wall.

Other Aras and Eules manning stations at the front of the room screamed or ducked into cover, as two more Bloodletters appeared from the ruined machinery. Tongues lolled hungrily, Hellblades readied. Eyes burned like hot coals, drinking in the battle.

Clang! Clang!

"Verdammt noch mal!" Elster groaned, putting both arms into each parry. She had to stagger back a step under the daemon's furious assault. "Take them out!"

"Don't need to tell me TWICE!" Artemis yelled, shoving Diodana behind her and raising her SMG.

The tech adept raised a metal hand at the Storch's back. "Wait, do-!"

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

Fortunately for the Machine God's holy artifice, firearms on the Nomarch were exclusively loaded with less-lethal ammunition. Hull penetration ever a concern on the comparatively thin Eusan Empire vessel. Rubber bullets would have to suffice.

Unfortunately for the Storch, the daemon before her waded into her fire. Only caring to raise its two-handed sword to protect its glowing eyes. Uncovered rounds, strong enough to at least injure a gestalt, pelted off the unearthly crimson hide like rain against concrete.

"Fuck, shit!" Artemis growled, staggering back as the daemon closed the gap and swung. "He's not going down!"

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Come on...come on!" Dash grunted, pouring salt shots at the daemon advancing on the opposite side.

POP. POP. POP.

"Dammit!" Double Tap said, accompanying Dash's shotgun with her own revolver. Even at range close enough for blank rounds to at least hurt, they accomplished nothing. "Is it just me, or is this doing nothing?"

"Hah hah hah hah hah!" cried Elster's dance partner, swinging its Hellblade over the replika commander's head. "Blood! Blood for the Blood God! RRAGH!"

"Grah!" Elster grunted, throwing her shoulder into the daemon's chest. She regained her footing, breathing heavy. She lunged, faking an overhead strike.

When the Bloodletter raised to block, she swung her blade under and across at the last moment. Thumbing the switch on the guard, she bathed the bridge in blue light. "HAH!"

"GRAH!" the daemon snarled, staggering back. Its right hand flying off along with the blade. It gritted its needle teeth, and scrambled. Sizzling scarlet leaked from its wrist, as it picked up the blade with its offhand.

"...melee..." Elster gasped, assuming a defensive stance. "Melee works!"

"Fuck!" Dash grunted, as the Stars both dove out of the way of their own charging daemon.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT.

"Is that- SHIT!" Artemis yelped, leading her daemon around the console. She ducked behind the captain's chair, as the daemonic blade sheared the top of it off. "Is that going to work without one of your fancy blades!?"

"One way to find out!" Double Tap yelled, flipping her revolver in the air and catching it by the barrel. Her other hand groped to her belt, and the stun rod that dangled from it. "Dash!"

"On it!" Dash said, putting the daemon between them. "Duck!"

BAM!

Dash discharged her shotgun at point blank range.

The daemon, head whipping back and forth between two viable victims, caught a pellet in the eye. "RRAGH!" it snarled, throwing a hand over its face. Electing to silence the barking weapon, it turned toward Dash and swung.

"Now!" Dash yelled, stepping away and racking the last spent shell.

The daemon raised its Hellblade high, for a followup swing.

BZZT!

"GAH!" groaned the Bloodletter, arching its back as electricity ran up its spine. It staggered, unearthly muscles spasming.

It turned its head just in time to see the butt of the revolver smack it in the face.

"Get him!" Double Tap yelled, falling on her back to avoid a retaliatory slash.

Smack!

"Ngh! the daemon winced, head pitching forward as the shotgun butt slammed into the back of its elongated skull. "...honor...less...dogs!" it growled, burning eyes swimming.

Smack!

Dash slammed the shotgun in the back of the daemon's knee, forcing it to kneel. She fished to her belt, drawing her alien talon-knife.

"No, no, no!" Double Tap said, jabbing her stun rod at the daemon's weapon arm as it swiped wildly at the air. "Enough of that!"

BZZT!

Electricity shot through the daemon's wrist, causing it to lose purchase of the sword.

"...ngh...no! it croaked, wincing eyes peeking out to look at its twitching fingers.

"Art!" Dash cried, throwing the shotgun across the room. "Catch!"

Artemis chucked her SMG, now thoroughly spent, at her aggressor. "Hup!" she grunted, catching the shotgun.

As the daemon cut down the last remains of the interfering captain's seat, it leaped over it and swung wide. "Skulls for the Skull Thro-!

Tall as she was, the Storch hopped over the swing and brought the shotgun down on the daemon's head with both hands.

Crack!

It staggered back, free hand clutching its skull. Hot blood poured in rivulets down its face.

The kneeling daemon watched its injured brother(?). Saw the spray of scarlet trail off the butt of the shotgun as it pulled back. The Bloodletter gasped, enraptured. "B-blood...for the..."

"Yes."

Dash grabbed one of the daemon's huge, curving horns with one hand. Wrenched its head back, and curled her talon knife around its neck. "Blood," she grunted.

The daemon's eyes widened, as it felt its throat open from ear to ear.

"Gck...mmrrr...gghll!" it gurgled, clawing at its neck. Fountain of scarlet slipped through its fingers.

Dash kicked the daemon forward, letting it fall face-first in a pool of its own gore. "All you can fucking drink," she muttered.

It seemed to take her up on the offer. Writhing on the ground, it thirstily buried its face in its own blood. Serpentine tongue lapping the liquid, even as it trembled and clawed its throat in pain.

"We need...guh...to help them..." Tulip gasped, gritting her teeth, as she sat against the bridge's back wall.

"Nonsense!" Diodana whispered, looking fearfully over her shoulder. Heard the rhythmic clang of metal against metal. Saw a daemon, mere strides away, stagger to its feet and charge at the Storch. "You're injured, and those...abominations are too strong."

"W-we have to do something!" said the Ara holding Tulip up. "They'll get hurt too!"

"C-come on!" Tulip spat, forcing herself to her hooves. Oxident leaking from her lips. "Wh-while it's...gack...distracted!"

"Over here, asshole!" Artemis yelled, waving the daemon over. Slowly retreating toward the Stars, and away from the tech priests. "I'm right here! You want some of this!?"

"B-Blood...for the Blood God! growled the Bloodletter, swinging its sword to the side. It prepared to charge. "Skulls for-!"

"Now!"

Tulip, the other Ara, and a reluctant Diodana rushed up behind the daemon.

"GUH!?" the Bloodletter howled in alarm, as mechadendrites coiled around its arms and legs. Artificial hands seized wrists and horns, pulled it back.

Against a single foe of such meager strength, the daemon spawn of Khorne would scarcely break a sweat. Against so many appendages, it found itself wanting. Feet lost purchase on the ground, until it fell back into the press of bodies. It struggled, trying to pull its arms free. "Rrragh! Ngh!"

"Hold it right there!" Artemis barked, two-handing the shotgun and slammed it into the daemon's main hand.

Smack!

The Hellblade came free, bones in its fingers broken.

"Grrk!" the Bloodletter grunted, shaking its head violently. "No! C-cowards!"

"Nah," Artemis said, before grabbing the daemon's horn with one hand, and pulling a normal steel knife from her belt with the other. She raised it high.

Coal-fire light glinted off the naked steel as it plunged between the daemon's eyes. The tip scraped the inside back of its skull.

 

Clang! Clang!

"Hah...hah..." Elster panted, staggering around a console. "G-get clear!" she muttered, motioning to the cowering replikas at the front of the bridge, before raising her blade high.

Clang!

"Aah!" a Eule cried, as she and two Aras ran around the traveling melee. Eyes darting fearfully at the blood-crazed fiend making ruin of their instruments.

Krunch! Hisssss.

"Agh!" cried an Ara, stumbling. "Wh-what's that!?"

Locking blades with the Bloodletter, Elster looked over its shoulder and blanched.

"Grrrr!"

From another weapons station, a new daemonic form emerged. Not that of a horned humanoid. But instead, huge and canine in aspect. Back broad and spined, hide scaly and scarlet. From its thick neck, the beast sported pinkish, lizard-like frills, just in front of a heavy brass collar.

Leaping from the wreckage of systems, the Flesh Hound issued a rumbling growl. Broad nose sniffing deep, fiery eyes taking in the panoply of terrified bridge crew.

"N-no..." Elster breathed, eyes locked on the beast. She felt the Bloodletter lean into their clashed blades.

It gave a rumbling chuckle, opening mouth wide. Hot, brimstone breath washed over the replika commander. "...heh heh." It looked over its shoulder at the beast. "Go. Kill."

"No!" Elster cried, eyes widening.

"Raff! Raff! Raff!" the Flesh Hound barked, brandishing its fangs and digging claws into the metal floor.

The Aras froze.

"...AAAAH!" the Eule screamed, turning to run. Straw-colored hair whipping with the motion of her panicked flight.

In an instant, the Flesh Hound zeroed in on the coward. "RRRRAAAGH!"

"NO!" Elster screamed, pushing the Bloodletter away and running forward. In the back of her mind, a scream of dread.

She was too slow.

The Flesh Hound closed the distance in a second, and clamped down on the Eule's neck.

"AAAAAGH!"

Crunch!

Elster's heart stopped.

It was difficult, at times, to keep track of all her children and grandchildren. There were so many of them now. The Nomarch so crowded.

But despite everything, she made every effort, while she still could, to know the names of each and every one.

EULR-N0618. Theodora. Radar technician. One of Circe's. Idolized Vanessa.

Theodora hated unprocessed mealworms, but loved pineapple. Rare as they were to find.

A budding artist. Sketched foreign landscapes and Imperial Army regiment uniforms, from file photographs. Hated drawing war machines, they were so complicated. Asked Elster or Diodana to explain their mechanics, so she could render them better.

She had a crush on Hyssop (ARAR-N0628), a fellow bridge operator. Begged Adler to change their schedules, so they could work together...

---

"...Adler said no," the Eule said, shifting her weight nervously from hoof to hoof.

"Adler's dealing with his own problems right now," Elster said, head bent over the digital star map. She looked over. "Can't you just ask Hyssop out? Or in, as the lingo goes these days?"

Theodora chewed her thumb. Averted her eyes. "I-I can't just ask!" she muttered, mindful of eavesdroppers. "What if she doesn't like me? I need to get to know Hyssop better, before I can make my move. Does that make sense?"

Elster blinked, then sighed. The edges of her mouth turned up in a warm smile. "...I think it does," she said, chuckling softly. "Ariane and I worked together for...how many years was it? Before we finally confessed our feelings for each other."

"Really? You and the White Mother?" Theodora said, blinking at her grandmother. "I didn't know that..."

A curt nod. Elster huffed happily, shutting her eyes.

"I'll talk to Adler about the schedule, after the next jump..."

---

Elster watched a daemon snap Theodora's neck.

"...nnnNNNNOOOO!" Elster screamed, raising her power sword. Heart breaking.

Oxident dripping from its jaws, the Flesh Hound turned its head. Twitching replika body hanging from its mouth, eyes wide in terror. Going dark.

The beast's burning eyes widened, as blue light bathed its body.

SHING.

Daemonic head divorced from daemonic body. The distraught mother cleaved the beast in twain, with a single slice.

"Elster!" cried Dash from across the bridge, eyes widening in horror as she watched the severed beast head fall to the ground with its limp prize. "N-no..."

"Hah...hah...hah..."

Panting, Elster stared painfully down at the granddaughter she failed. Eyes wide, pupils dilated in shock. "...th...Theo..."

"Heh heh heh..."

Her hand tightened around her hilt of her sword. Shoulders slumped.

The daemon dragged the tip of its Hellblade lazily across the metal floor, sparks igniting at every inch. It circled out into the open between stations, and raised its blade.

"Elster!" Dash cried, navigating the collection of sliced and ruined consoles, and toppled chairs. "Look out!"

But the daemon didn't charge. It pointed blade at the replika commander.

"Face me," the Bloodletter growled, tongue lapping the air impatiently. "Face me...Blade of the Arkifane. Look me in the eyes when I take your skull."

Elster gritted her teeth.

Slowly, she turned, head bowed low.

She glared sidelong at the daemon with immense abhorrence.

The daemon clicked its tongue happily. Licked its lips. "Yes...get angry..." it breathed, head tilting back so the daemon could look down on her. "Let Khorne's fury ta-"

SHING.

Without a word, Elster brought her shining blade over her head and decapitated the daemon in one stroke.

Wide-eyed in surprise - and perhaps elation - the Bloodletter's head and body toppled wordlessly to the floor. A fountain of steaming blood gushed from its neck. The Hellblade clattered along with it, brass on steel.

Elster watched the body fall with utmost hate. Lip twitching.

"Theodora!"

The spell of terror broken, the Aras rushed to the Eule's side. Desperately pried open the jaws of the Flesh Hound, as it and its body rapidly dissolved into smoke and brimstone. Pawed at the limp radar technician.

"D.T.!" Dash cried, looking down at the scene with mounting horror. "We need medical attention here too!"

Snapping from her fury, Elster cast her power sword aside and whipped around. Sank to her knees, to examine Theodora. "Theo! Stay with me, baby!"

But as she felt the fang-ravaged neck, Elster knew the truth. Knew it the moment she heard the crunch of daemonic fang on metal. Like a stab to the heart, she know.

Titanium, a precious commodity in their travels, was reserved for combat replika models. Eules, as a matter of practicality and tradition, didn't require them. Their bones - including their spines - were "mere" steel.

Theodora's snapped like a twig. If massive blood loss or piercing the windpipe hadn't done it, the breakage of the spine would, in an instant.

Elster's medical module was sure of it.

[PROGNOSIS: DECEASED]

 

"...I'm telling you, they're everywhere! All over the screens! They're-"

Double Tap paced, watching Diodana apply medical foam to Tulip's wound. The pilot needed further medical attention, but the spray would stop her from bleeding out.

The Star turned to the radio in her hand. "Maria, calm down!" she barked. Weaved fingers through her green hair. "Where are they? How many?"

"Everywhere, verdammt!" Maria cried, her voice crackling through interference of an altogether sinister nature. "They're-"

From across the line, a banging and scraping on metal.

"Oh Empress!" Maria cried. "THEY'RE HERE!"

"MARIA!" Double Tap yelled. "MARIA, ANSWER ME! ARE YOU OKAY!?"

The line went dead.

"...SHIT!" Double Tap barked, dropping the radio to her side. "This is bad!"

"Hold it together!" Dash said, standing over the dissolving body of the daemon whose throat she slit. "Elster!" she called across the bridge. "We need to move!"

Clack. Clack. Clack.

"Where do we go?" Artemis said, looking around. "How do we stop this?"

"All bridge controls for the Warp drive are inoperable," Diodana said, rising uneasily to her metal feet. She patted Tulip on the shoulder. "We need to reach the drive directly and force Realspace Translation. Immediately, while the Geller Field yet holds."

Clack. Clack. Clack.

"Is it really working?" Artemis said, raising an eyebrow. "We've got daemons crawling through the ship!"

"We're only alive now because the Geller Field is still functional," Diodana said, four photo-receptors regarding the Storch coldly. She raised a metal finger. "Albeit at reduced capacity."

Bang.

Everyone flinched, looking over at the lightly damaged captain's console. At the fist slammed against it.

A hand snatched up the microphone. Thumbed on the switch.

The Mother of Machines compartmentalized her grief.

 

"ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG!"

Daisy and Adler looked up to the replika workshop ceiling. Their mother's garbled voice issued from the speakers.

They didn't notice the collection of spare parts - hands, legs, arms - twitch.

"All crew, hear this! The Nomarch is infested with Daemons. This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!"

In a corridor, Samantha backed away fearfully from a sliding door, as the metal grew visibly brighter and hotter.

She jogged to the side seconds before it melted, a gout of Warpflame erupting from the door. Her run broke into a sprint, as a billowing nightmare creature slid out.

"They can manifest from anywhere, so be on your guard at all times."

Trisk staggered back against a kitchen island, clutching a hot, buttered pan as the electric stovetop burst into flame. These flames coalesced into snarling faces, that smelled of brimstone.

Behind her, Meryl ducked under a massive crab-claw that erupted from a hunk of meat she was butchering. A lithe, androgynous form slithered out, black eyes alight with desire.

"Your orders: SURVIVE!"

Hands clapped over her mouth, Vanessa trembled. Flinching with each crash of a sewing machine, thump of fabric roll, or snarl of a monster.

She stifled a squeak, shrank deeper under the workdesk, as Doris toppled down in front of her. Back weeping scarlet, the Eule's eyes gone cold. Vanessa gaped in horror at her probably dead sister, before the snarls and crashes snapped her back to attention.

As a red-skinned warrior slashed at a whip-cracking, claw-clacking lavender monstrosity, Vanessa crawled quietly toward the sewing room door. Hands tugged hard on a lock of straw-colored hair.

"Guns ineffective. Employ melee tactics where you must. Evade and barricade when you can!"

Colossal hoof crushed the twitching, crimson daemon on the floor. Bent low, giant hands halfway to her rotary gun.

Bertha, suit coated in boiling blood, stopped. Looked up to the speakers. Turned to the wall of the oversized communal bedroom. She stomped over to Jenny's bunk, and plucked the Power Axe from the wall.

"Again, this is not a drill! Survive, regroup to designated positions, and protect one another!"

The cat hissed. Black hands leapt out and pulled the frightened feline back. It dug its claws into her arms.

Rue backed up down the ventilation shaft, clutching the trembling animal. Eyes locked on the clutch of diminutive, horned figures squatting in her spot. The creatures spotted them, and scattered in all directions. The last tiny, portly monster wearing her stash of adult literature like a hat, chuckling jubilantly at her before disappearing.

"We've trained for boarding actions! Well, we're using it now!"

Water-slick fist smacked pink face, knocking loose a tooth and interrupting its incantation.

Ishtar and Breach, pulling away from their lover's embrace, balled their fists as more color-shifting creatures appeared from the shower floor.

"I can't be everywhere at once, so you need to protect one another!"

Sally screamed, gripping her girlfriend's arm for dear life. Myrtle and Heidi fought to free her from a doorway full of teeth. Around them, the walls gibbered and chortled from many smaller mouths.

"Do whatever you have to do! Just hold out as long as you can!"

Two Eules ran full tilt down the corridor, escaping a hunched shadow whose arms tapered into curved hooks.

Alice, clutching Dorothy's hand, led them to the ladder. Shoving her sister up, Alice looked back, as the shadow disappeared around the corner. The two climbed rapidly, making for the Penrose 313.

 

Elster sucked a heaving breath. "I love you all! Over and out!"

With a single twitch, she thumbed the mic off. Cast it aside, stomped toward the door. Hand clasped on the hilt of her sword.

"Peony! Sorrel! Protect Tulip! Fall back to the nearest defensive position!" Elster barked. "Everyone else, you're with me!"

"B-but what about Trin and Pet!" Double Tap cried, rubbing her scalp in panic. "They're in danger! I need to-"

"I need you with us, D.T.!" Elster barked, looking the Star in the eyes. "We don't have time! We need to get to the engine module, NOW!"

Dash clapped a hand on Double Tap's shoulder. "We need to rely on the others to protect them, whoever's near," she said, resolutely. "We'll ALL die if we don't get us back to Realspace. Come on!"

"Yeah, D.T.," Artemis said, yanking on Double Tap's arm. "We gotta move!"

"...sh-shit!" Double Tap grunted, allowing herself to be dragged forward.

Ding.

The hand radio at Elster's belt roared to life. The voice tinged with static, and the horrid sound of muffled pipes.

"Bridge! Anyone who can hear me!" cried the radio. "Seal Hydroponics! Immediately!"

Elster froze, then stalked back to the captain's console, thumbing the radio on. She pressed buttons rapidly. "On it."

"Rose, what's going on?" Double Tap yelled so the radio could pick her up, looking nervously between Elster and the door. "Are you okay? Have you see-?"

"No, I- HCK!" Rose said, voice wracked with a sudden coughing fit. "...gck...wh-whatever happens...don't unseal Hydroponics."

Elster looked down at the radio fearfully. "...why?"

It wasn't Rose who answered. Her radio cut out.

It was Mik'hul.

Sorry, boss, he thought, gravely. You did the right thing...

 

"...guess it's just us, huh?"

Radio discarded. Door bolts automatically rumbled into place. Air thick with a sickly sweet smell, and the sound of baleful pipes.

Rose clutched a convulsing Chicory. Discolored fluids leaked from the younger Ara's mouth, her eyes rolled back in her head.

Jenny stood in front of them, a wheelbarrow clutched defensively in one massive hand.

"...yes," Rose said, before another coughing fit took her. She could feel aches and pains forming in her muscles and joints. Fingers hurt to bend. Was the effect psychosomatic? Or could it affect even her mechanic parts? Panting, she raised her head, looking past Jenny. "And whatever you do, Jenny...hack...don't open your helmet."

The replikas watched the slow, shuffling gait of three pot-bellied, horned, nauseating creatures. Gnarled hands clutched corroded weapons. Their skins green, and redolent with boils and open sores. Where they walked, once fresh produce spontaneously burst in showers of rotting juice and seeds.

Behind them, their master capered and performed. Dancing a jig and blowing into a foul, inflated organ sack tucked under its arm. From whence still more revolting tones sounded. Behind it, the pear tree split open with a wet crack, wood rotting from the inside out. Fluids oozed out in a torrent, contaminating the plot of carefully husbanded Vinetan soil set in the floor for the tree.

The Plaguebearers, mouths twisted in unnatural grins, chanted their favorite song to the sound of the bilepipes.

"Buboes, phlegm, blood and guts! Boils, bogeys, rot and pus! Blisters, fevers, weeping sores! From your wounds the fester pours!"

...because Nurgle's minions want to claim your garden for him.

Chapter 88: Getting Under the Skin

"Huff...huff...huff...AAGH!"

Hooves scrambled frantically on the floor. And then the wall. And then the ceiling.

Claws scratched metal, following shortly behind.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

Rounding the corner, Vanessa rolled as she fell, the center of gravity shifting her to a corridor wall. Scrambling frantically to her hooves, she hopped over a doorway in a mad dash.

SLAM!

"H-help!" Vanessa cried, sparing a single look behind at the writhing mass. Sweat poured down her cheeks, lungs burning from exertion. "Somebody HELP!"

She broke into a sprint, no longer caring that the ship she'd known her whole life became a senseless maze.

Get away!, she thought, tears welling in her eyes. Gravity twisting around the axis of the corridor as she ran. Just get away!

A lithe, sinuous form found its footing with unnatural ease. Lilac skin bathed pink in the red emergency lights. Serpentine tongue tasted the air from the end of a long, jutting snout. Black eyes spied the retreating Eule, chest heaving and tail twitching with excitement.

The Fiend of Slaanesh clacked its massive claws and sped forward.

It could easily overtake its prey. But why would it? Prolonging the chase was so much more fun.

 

"Son of a bitch!"

Water rained to the tiled floor. Hooves splashed or slid awkwardly on the slick surface.

Steam puffed up, as a mote of magenta flame flew through the air and impacted a glass shower divider. It rattled, a rainbow colored scorch mark blossoming across the glass.

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah!" cackled the horned daemon, two of three arms clapping. Splashed water as it hopped excitedly from one clawed foot to the other. The Pink Horror began to mutter incantations in its maddening tongue, third hand throwing up the horns. Fire began to form in the recesses in its fingertips.

"Grr!" Ishtar growled, peeking her head around the frosted glass at the monstrosity accosting her. "Breach!" she barked, wiping water from her face. "You got that one?"

CRASH!

Glass shards cascaded to the wet floor, as a daemonic body fell. A wet hoof-mark in its face.

"Y-yeah!" Breach yelled, scrambling over the shattered divider and jumping on the Pink Horror behind them. As her weight held the writhing, shifting daemon down, she grabbed one of its oversized hands by the wrist. "G-get the other one!" She bit another of its hands as the Horror tried to claw at her face. "Pft! Stop squirming!"

Fwoosh!

Ducking a gout of flame, Ishtar ran down the length of the communal showers, slipping only once. Hooves dug into grout lines for traction. She put her entire body into a tackle.

"DO YOU MIND!" she roared, slamming into the Pink Horror as it cut off its incantation midway through. The two fell to the ground, Storch atop Pink. She grabbed one of the daemon's horns to hold its head in place, while her other hand pulled back into a fist. "WE WERE HAVING SOME ALONE TIME!"

BAM!

"ARGH!" the daemon cried, fist impacting its iridescent face.

BAM!

And again.

BAM!

And again.

Behind her, Breach kneed what passed for a throat on the writhing ball of limbs and tendrils that constituted her Horror. Her hand groped blindly on the water-slick floor, before closing around a sizable shard of frosted glass.

"Bleh bleh...BLAH!?" the Pink Horror grumbled, yellow eyes going wide as the Star raised the makeshift blade over her head.

Shing!

Sharp glass sliced through pink flesh like a hot knife through butter. Breach pulled her knee away, raking her weapon down the daemon's body from crown to crotch. (Not that the Horrors had anything between their legs).

"Nngh!" she grunted, rolling away as the body exploded in a cloud of colors and sparks.

BAM!

"Huff...huff...ngh!" Ishtar panted, landing another blow at her assailant. A yellowed tooth flew out from the impact. She glanced over her shoulder. "You got it?"

"Y-yeah, I- WHAT THE SHIT!" Breach cried, scrambling back as she watched the two halves of her Pink Horror coalesce before her eyes.

Previously pink matter shifted azure. Limbs rearranged themselves around new central bodies. Toothy jaws chomped, and tongues sputtered grumpily. Two sets of magenta eyes regarded the Star with morose disdain.

One of the Blue Horrors brandished a curved, silver knife.

"Ish, I think we have a p-problem!" Breach cried, frowning in fear. She stumbled back awkwardly on the wet floor, dodging a swipe. "Th-they're fucking multiplying!"

 

"How many of these ARE THERE!? HAH!"

A shotgun butt swung like a baseball bat, knocking the Bloodletter's blade aside. It staggered back a step.

"Now!" Dash yelled, stepping to the side.

"Hragh!"

The Bloodletter's eyes widened in surprise, as a power sword relieved it of its head. Body, Hellblade, and head crashed to the floor in a shower of boiling blood.

Elster, eyes glaring, stomped on the daemon's body before it even had time to settle. Pressed forward, bathing the melting walls with blue light from her sword.

"Easy does it," Double Tap said, pulling an Ara to her hooves. Pulled her forward. "Can't stay here, Hyssop. We need to move."

"R-right!" Hyssop said, jogging to keep up with the rapidly growing group. "Wh-what is all this?" she said, eyes darting around to metal walls that ran like candle wax. Rubbed her arm where sword blows cleaved to the metal bone. "Why is-?"

"Warp fuckery!" Artemis grunted, before hefting a metal chair and chucking it down the corridor. "RRAGH!"

"AH!" cried a scampering Blue Horror, as the furniture beaned it in the head. It toppled over, dazed. "...gugh..."

"Hyssop," Double Tap said, keeping an eye on their rear as a half dozen assorted survivors jogged behind. "Can you raise Pet on the Noosphere?"

"Petunia? I-I can try," Hyssop said, clutching her head. Allowed the Star to take her other hand and guide her, as her vision unfocused. "D-do you not have a Noosphere Module installed?"

"...dammit..." Double Tap groaned under her breath, looking forward. "Pet and Trin kept telling me to get one. But it always seemed like a pain..." She facepalmed, muttering, "Idiot, idiot...they could be..."

"...Noosphere's full of noise," Hyssop said, blinking back to what passed for reality. "Why?"

"Scrap code," Diodana said, bouncing up and down as another two Aras carried her. To her chagrin, she still hadn't dedicated time to replacing her feeble, old woman legs with holy prosthetics. "Infecting the local network. It's amazing we can communicate at all."

Not so amazing, Elster thought, ruefully. Glowing blade cleaved the downed Blue Horror in twain. She waited until the two halves coalesced into capering Brimstone Horrors, before she and Artemis made short work of them. Mik'hul, I take it you're helping keep the Noosphere clean?

Our mutual boss wants to protect his investment, doesn't he? Mik'hul thought, cheerfully. Though I can't do more than this, boss. Lot of irons in the fire.

At least tell me the Penrose isn't being trashed, Elster thought, furrowing her brow.

Me and my cousins are just having a little pow-wow up here, boss. Don't you worry. The ship's my home too, as well as my jail. Mik'hul clicked his tongue across the line. But seriously, I need to concentrate. Stand by.

"I-I found Petunia!" Hyssop said, head snapping to attention.

"Where!?" Double Tap barked, squeezing the Ara's arm. "Is she okay?"

"Y-yeah," Hyssop nodded. "But she's..."

 

"[...trapped in a locker with a fucking dog outside!]"

Bang! Bang!

"Rrrragh!"

Petunia pressed her back against the rear of the storage locker. Flinched with every slam against the metal door. A pipe wrench in her trembling hands.

Screech!

The Ara jumped, as a claw raked a thin gouge into the metal.

A fiery ember eye peeked at her through the opening. The Flesh Hound growled hungrily, hot breath seeping in. It smelled of blood and brimstone.

It reared up, throwing its whole weight behind its forelegs as it slammed into the locker. The whole container leaned back hard against the wall, before settling again.

"Ah!" Petunia squeaked, pressing the wrench close to her chest. She gulped. "[I could really use some help here!]"

"[On it. Stand by.]"

"Rragh!" the Flesh Hound growled. Through the vent slits, Petunia saw it turn its head. Neck crest flapping excitedly.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp-

"BRRRK!" barked the Flesh Hound, before a colossal fist flew into its face.

SMACK!

"YIP!" the beast whined, as it flew back with extreme force.

"Ah!" Petunia cried, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Come 'ere, you!" the giant grumbled, frame moving out of view.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp-stomp-stomp.

Crash! Slam! Crunch! Splat!

The beast growled and barked, claws raking loudly on armor plates. Tore artificial skin. Jaws snapped at the air once, twice.

"Ngh! Bad dog!" grunted the giant, audibly wrestling with the monster. "Enough...out of YOU!"

"YIIIII-!"

WRENCH! CRACK! SQUELCH!

Thud, thud.

Breathing heavily, Petunia stood stock still in her upright metal coffin. For a moment, all she heard was the roar of her heart in her ears. "...h-hello?"

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Knock, knock.

"You okay in there?" said the giant. She leaned down. Popped open her face shield. Smiled.

"H-Helga?" Petunia breathed, before pushing open the locker. "Thank the Omnissiah, you..." She leaned out, and looked to the side. Eyes widened. Her expressionless face belied the quesiness in her stomach.

"Yeah, I kind of made a mess," Helga chuckled, standing up. Frame drenched in sizzling scarlet. The Schnapper turned her whole body, to watch the Flesh Hound's body dissolve.

Its upper and lower jaws pulled apart, until it brought something like 40% of its length with it when it came apart. Boiling blood drenched the floor. It bubbled and exuded fumes, as the Warp reclaimed the daemon, bit by bit.

"Luckily, it seems to be cleaning itself..."

 

"Come here, sexy. I won't bite...much..."

Bang! Crash! Crash!

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

Blue Horrors scrambled over counters and threw open cabinets. A stack of dishes, newly washed, toppled, its top parts shattering on the floor.

"Get off me!" Trisk cried, waving a cast iron pan at encroaching malefactors with one hand, while the other grasped the wrist of a Blue Horror with a death grip on her spiky black hair. "Get off!"

"Ah!"

Meryl ducked a swiping claw, running around one of the two central islands. She slipped, scrambling to her hooves in an effort to escape her assailant. "N-no! Stop!"

"Ooh...but Meryl, baby..." cooed the lithe, androgynous daemon as it slinked around the corner in pursuit. It rose to full height, strutting slowly toward the trembling Eule. Figure barely contained by a black, bodice-like set of perfunctory armor and loin cloth that seemed only to enhance its seductive qualities. Lilac skin glistening with the sheen of...what Meryl dearly hoped was sweat. "...I thought you liked a good time..."

Meryl crawled on her back, eyes wide. "...no...s-stay away..."

The Daemonette's crab-like claws clicked. Solid black eyes regarded the Eule hungrily. One taloned, digitigrade foot stepped in front of the other, like a fashion model on a catwalk. It licked its lips, pink tongue glistening in the red emergency lights. "Come, come..." it breathed, impatiently. "I know you want it. Don't deny it. You can please Slaanesh so much more..."

Crash!

Trisk smashed another plate over a Blue Horror's head, before smacking it away with a pan. She tossed another plate at a Horror clinging to the upper cabinets. "Y-you okay?" she said, rubbing away a tear from her eye that ran black with her mascara.

"N-not really," Meryl said, rising unsteadily to her hooves. Eyes locked on the daemon lazily advancing on her. She jumped back as the claws reached out, taking playful nips at the Eule's artificial flesh. "Ah! No! I don't want this! Stay away!"

"Ooooh! You tease!" the Daemonette cried, pressing a claw to its neck. Ran jagged claw ridges over its bare skin, leaving visible red marks. "Pain can be pleasurable too, you know! Let me show you how!"

"Ngh!" Meryl groaned fearfully, eyes darting side to side. To her left, as she backed away, the big metal cooking pot vibrated with a roiling boil. To her right, she spied the glint of metal. Thinking quickly, she groped blindly at the island, grasping a kitchen knife. "St-stay back!" she yelled, pointing the tip at the daemon. "I'm warning you!"

"Oh! You dirty girl!" the Daemonette moaned, pink hair swaying in an ethereal wind. Its body quivered in delight, as it flashed thin, needle-like teeth in a broad grin. "How did you know I was into knife pla-?"

Meryl tossed the blade. Watched it embed in the creature's exposed shoulder with a wet 'thump'.

"Oooh!" the Daemonette moaned, shivering. Eyes shut in ecstasy. "Baby, that's so good!" It peeked its black eyes open, half-lidded. "More! Give me more!"

Unable to restrain itself, the Daemonette crouched low, then darted forward. Swiped with its claws, aiming for the Eule's arms.

"Ah!" Meryl cried, staggering back. Hand groped the island again, and seized a plate full of fruit. "I SAID GET AWAY!"

Smash!

"Ah!" the Daemonette cried, feeling the rush of force and ceramic shards cut its face. "Y-yes!" Staggered.

Gritting her teeth, Meryl dove to her left, seizing the wooden knife holder. She pulled more knives, eyeing the daemon warily.

"Yes, baby!" the Daemonette gasped, hopping from side to side, claws wide and clacking. "More! MORE!"

"Ngh!" Meryl grunted, throwing knives at the creature, one by one.

Elster ensured all her children received some combat training. Including with a variety of weapons. Not every replika attended to the training as attentively as was notionally required. But Meryl did.

While Meryl would prefer to wield the knives, rather than throw them, she had no desire to get closer to the clacking claws.

"Ah!" the Daemonette moaned, a blade embedding in its arm. Then another, in its thigh, and another slid across its cheek. "Ah! AH!"

Bang! Crash! Rumble!

FWOOSH!

"Shit!" Trisk yelled, backing up as a flattened Blue Horror erupted into twin Brimstone Horrors. Bathing the back of the kitchen in a sickly yellow glow. "They turn into fire!"

"Rragh!" roared the Brimstones, voice like tiny infernos. Within the flames, the black suggestions of faces leered angrily at the younger Eule.

"Angry fire!" Trisk yelped, as the Brimstone Horrors threw wild shots of yellow flame at her. Ducked one shot, then blocked another with her iron pan. "ANGRY FIRE!"

She scampered down the line, as Blue and Brimstone Horrors gave chase. Her white smock scorched black from errant blaze.

"Come on, come on!" Meryl grunted, throwing blades until she held the last one in her hand. She looked forlornly at it, then at the daemon. "...nnn..."

"Y-yes..." the Daemonette shivered, rooted in place with pleasure. Eyes cracked out, as it clicked its claws hungrily. "C-come..."

Gulping, Meryl took one last look to the side, before rushing forward.

As the Daemonette raised a claw to swipe, Meryl threw the empty wood block into it. Then, crouching low, the Eule swiped right, slashing the daemon's left wrist just below the claw.

"Ah!" the Daemonette yelped with surprise at the wood lodged in its claw - and not in the sense it would prefer - before its black eyes widened as the Eule slammed her shoulder into its left arm. It grunted, shivering with pleasure. "Ngh!"

Pinning one offending limb to the edge of the island, Meryl grabbed the Daemonette's other wrist, and pressed forward. Jammed the knife into the daemon's sternum, then low at its thigh.

"Ah! Ah!" the Daemonette gasped, head jerking back. Lilac skin ran with goosebumps. "Y-you...so good!"

"Hah, hah, hah!" Meryl panted, driving the shuddering daemon back. Plunging the knife into its skin over and over and over. Not caring where she struck, only that it be done as rapidly as possible. With one final exertion, she brought a hoof up and kicked the daemon in the stomach to get some distance. "Ngh!"

"Oooh!" the Daemonette groaned, scarlet flowing from many lacerations across its skin. Taloned feet scraped floor tiles, as it staggered. Gasping and shuddering, eyes shut. She growled, "Oh, oh! M-Meryl! You sexy bitch!"

"Huff, huff!" Meryl panted, rushing to the front counter. She plucked the lid from the boiling pot. "Ah! Shit! Hot, hot!" she grunted, wincing at the handle in her free hand. She turned toward the center of the room. "Trisk!"

"Ngh!" Trisk grunted, wrestling with a Blue Horror with one hand while blocking firebolts with her pan. As the lid went flying, the younger Eule picked the Blue Horror up bodily and threw it in the lid's path.

"GAH!" the Blue Horror grunted, as the metal slammed into its head and burned its tendrils.

Slam!

Trisk smacked the Blue Horror with the iron skillet, then tossed the daemon into the Brimstone Horrors scrambling on the kitchen counter. Two-handing the skillet, she ran up and obliterated another Brimstone Horror with one hard swing. "Ngh!"

"C-come to me, Meryl!" the Daemonette moaned, breathing heavily. It grinned lasciviously, crouching for another lunge. "Let me return this pleasu- GACK!"

Her last knife thrown and embedded in the Daemonette's eye, Meryl yanked a power cord from the wall outlet and hefted the toaster. Chrome box in one hand, cord in the other.

"Ngh!" the Daemonette grunted, claw pulling the knife free. It shuddered, scarlet leaking from aggrieved eye socket. "...oooooh...that's...eh?"

Smack!

The Daemonette staggered to the side, a bruise forming on its cheek. It turned its head back to the elder Eule. "...wha-?"

Spinning the toaster like a flail, Meryl frowned, and swung it again by its cord.

Smack!

"Ah!" the Daemonette gasped, head jerking the opposite way. Another bruised cheek. Another shudder of ecstasy. "...ah...Meryl...I'm..."

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The Daemonette staggered, head hanging down. A welt formed on its forehead, as it groggily looked up. It swayed drunkenly. Vision in its remaining eye filled with stars. "...oooh...p-pretty colors..." It smiled.

Meryl swung the severely dented toaster around. Eyeing the daemon. Planning her next move.

"I-I'm almost there, baby..." the Daemonette breathed, stumbling slightly to the side. It took an uneasy step forward, claws wide. "J-just a little more, and I'll c-c-"

"Tch," Meryl muttered, before rushing forward. As the Daemonette lunged, the Eule ducked. Slid between the daemon's legs and turned on the spot.

"Eh?" the Daemonette grunted, arms crossing to impotently embrace the empty air. "Where?"

The toaster swung around, and wrapped the cord around the daemon's neck. Once. Twice.

Meryl ran up and grabbed both ends of the cord. She pulled. "Ngh!"

"Gck!" the Daemonette chocked, claws clacking at the air in front of its neck. "...hck...cho...cking..." Eyes wide, it smiled. "...haff...gck..y-yss...Mer-yl..." Its face went blue, as its whole body shuddered. The daemon didn't even try to snip the power cord. "Al...most...there...!"

"Ygh!" Meryl groaned, shuddering in disgust. Gulping, she kicked the Daemonette forward. Slowly making their way toward the cooking pot. "...T-Trisk! The wood mallet!"

"Shit! Fuck!" Trisk grunted chucking canned vegetables at the growing horde of Brimstone Horrors. "What?" She looked around frantically, then grasped at the counter. Knocking a Horror away with a backhanded swing of her skillet, Trisk held the wooden mallet aloft. "Catch!"

Meryl passed both ends of the cord to one hand, using her hoof to brace against the daemon's back. She half turned. Held out her other hand, and caught the flying mallet. "Thanks!"

"G-gon...na...gck...c-c-com-" the Daemonette choked, as it was guided, slowly, to the burners. Stomach pressed to the edge of the counter, its legs rubbed together eagerly.

Its remaining eye widened as it looked down at the roiling boil.

"Creepy mother-FUCKER!" Meryl grunted, as she slammed the business end of the mallet against the back of the Daemonette's head. Forced the creature's face into the water.

The Daemonette screamed into the boil as it writhed and struggled. In pain, and pleasure.

The elder Eule grimaced in dismay. Gritted her teeth and kept the shuddering daemon pinned down.

Luckily - and disturbingly - the Daemonette displayed no interest in NOT being boiled and drowned. Even as lilac skin blistered and throat burned. It just...kept moaning and shuddering. Claws locked on the countertop, gouging deep grooves in the linoleum.

Meryl growled, sweat pouring down her face.

"...why...won't...you...die!?"

 

"Just die already!"

Zap! Zap! Zap!

Kite ducked back behind the metal table functioning as a hasty barricade. "Shit!"

Zap! Zap! Zap!

"Las isn't working!" yelled Shock (STAR-N0605), firing her lasgun. She grimaced, ducking back behind the corner as balls of fire flew at her. "Shit! Can't we turn the power up on this shit?"

"We can't blow a hole in the hull!" Kite barked, checking the charge on her power pack. She groaned. "Fuck it! We need to close that gap!"

"Hah hah hah hah hah!" cried the Pink Horror at the end of the corridor, while its companion muttered incantations. Loose debris began to levitate in response to the channeling of arcane forces.

"Alright, I'll go," said Awe (STAR-N0606). She peeked over the lip of the table, then hefted her lasgun like a club. "Cover me! I'll-"

FWOOSH!

"ARGH!" Awe screamed, as magenta flames smacked her in the face. She fell over on the floor, clapping hands to it. "Aaaagh!"

"Awe!" Shock yelled, eyes widening in horror.

"I got her!" Kite yelled, crawling over. "Keep us covered!"

"D-dammit!" Shock grunted, before poking out to aim.

Zap! Zap! Zap!

"You okay?" Kite muttered, patting her junior on the face and hair. "Shit!"

"Ah...f-fuuuu.." Awe whined, writhing on the ground. Hands frantically pawing, attempting to smother the flames. "...ngh...shit...hurts...!"

"Dammit!" Kite grunted, trying desperately to pat the flames out. "We're sitting ducks out here!"

Zap! Zap! Zap!

"So what are we going to do?" Shock gasped, slipping back into cover as another gout of flame roared down the corridor. She pressed her back against the metal wall, panting. "We can't cover that gap, and they don't care about ranged weapons!"

With difficulty, Kite coaxed Awe to let her remove the customary Star facemask. Luckily, her junior's lower face was protected.

Unluckily, the freaky magic flames didn't burn the girl.

"...shit..." Kite breathed, staring down at her younger sister, horrified.

"...ngh...wh-what's..." Awe breathed, gritting her teeth. "What's wrong?" She cracked open her eyes.

All five of them.

"...holy shit, Awe," Shock muttered, looking over. Face paling, back arching.

"SCREEEEE!"

The Stars flinched. The screech echoing from down the corridor.

Then, the Pink Horrors began to scream.

"AAAAAGH! AAH!"

Down the hall, beyond their view, scrambling and scratching and loosing of fire.

Shing!

"AAAARGH!" screamed a Pink Horror, as something audibly cleaved through its daemonic body.

A second later, two thuds hit the ground.

The Stars trained their ears, hearing footsteps and the scrape of talons on metal.

"...gah!?" gasped the other Pink Horror. It stumbled against a wall.

With great trepidation, Kite and Shock looked at each other, then peeked around cover.

If they had encountered the Horrors of Tzeentch before, they might have been surprised at the murdered Pink Horror's failure to Split. Instead, they could only stare, confused, as the two halves, cleaved clean by a long, hooked blade...simply turned gray before their eyes. Then quietly melted into ash, that drifted up into the air.

The remaining Pink Horror, previously manic and jovial, backed away in...well, horror. It watched its kins-daemon simply cease. Dissolve to nothing.

Then, yellow eyes looked fitfully at the dark form that crouched by the disappearing corpse. Its arched, bony back rising. Its bone-white face, obscured from the Stars, turned to regard the Pink Horror.

Saw the flash of scything hooks, and a beak full of hideous white teeth.

"SCREEEE!"

The Stars ducked behind cover, listening to the Pink Horror flee. Heard the scramble of legs.

"...what's..." Awe muttered, rolling over. Hands rubbed her face. She gritted her teeth, shuddering from the retreating sounds of screams...and from the realization of her superfluous eyes. "...oh...oh Empress...I'm...?"

"Shh!" Kite whispered, pressing a finger to her lips.

The three sat in cover for minutes, until the screams and the scratching feet retreated.

 

"Stay back!"

Fetid footsteps, soft and sticky and full of fluids, squelched on metal floors. The daemon giggled, maggots dripping from its grinning maw.

Even if it cared to, it probably wasn't fast enough to dodge.

SLAM!

The wheelbarrow flopped and crashed against the floor, as did the Plaguebearer. Yellow ichor and maggots spilled across the ground in a wide arc.

Its two companions lazily looked over at the twitching creature, before continuing their slow approach.

Slowly, the fallen Plaguebearer sat up. Placed a pock-marked hand on one of its horns and used it to screw its dented, leaking head back on straight. Sickening cracks issued from its neck as it did so. When the head turned to face the replikas, it was still smiling (albeit down three blackened teeth).

"Heh heh heh heh heh!" it chuckled.

"...oh dear..." Jenny muttered, carrying Chicory in one arm as she and Rose backed away. The limp Ara coughed and shivered, body wracked by fluids and chills. Her eyes glazed over. Jenny held her close, eyes on the green daemons. "Can they even die?"

Yes, Mik'hul thought, his voice distant but clear. You have to kill them harder. But it can be done. Now excuse me.

"Dammit, daemon!" Rose croaked, before coughing into her hand. She looked at the ceiling. "Can't you offer a little more help?"

Beyond the trio, their bilepipe-playing superior capered around the rotting pear tree. It slowly burbled to the beat of the pipes. Distending. Deepening.

Ichor sprayed in an odorous gout. A putrescent mass began to emerge from the tree. A head, wreathed in pink, fluted tendrils that leaked fluids, poked out. A pudgy arm attempted to drag the bulk through the dimensional threshold onto the ship.

The Sloppity Bilepiper danced a triumphant jig as the Beast of Nurgle shattered the groaning tree trunk in its forceful entry. Belched green-gray ichor from its gaping maw.

Sorry, Mik'hul thought. Can't. Lots of problems around the ship need my attention.

"Like what!?" Rose grunted, walking over and ripping a PVC pipe from a hydroponics station. Water spilled from disconnected pipes. The plants, rotting before their eyes, wouldn't need the help. She brandished it defensively, swaying unsteadily as a wave of nausea struck her. "Ngh...what's more important than this?"

Well for one...you missed a couple...

 

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Shadows hung thicker in the vents than usual. Hotter. More humid.

Moisture clung to the Ara's forehead. She rubbed it, skin crawling. She knew the vents of the Nomarch better than anyone else, except perhaps their (probably deceased) designer. They were never this humid before.

They never smelled so bad. Even through the torn cloth face mask.

It didn't help she currently crawled on the roof of the vent. Gravity all fucked up. Threw the Ara off.

One of them is close, Mik'hul thought. Be on your guard. And remember...it's going to want to 'play'. Take advantage of that.

Rue gulped. Trained her ears.

A thump. A tumble. The scamper of tiny feet. A wet fart.

Closer. Closer.

By the light affixed to her forehead, Rue saw it. Saw the shape slip into view from around a bend in the vent.

Tiny, curved horns. A rotund body. Grasping claws. Beady little eyes, that flashed mischievously in glare.

"Heheheheh!" the Nurgling giggled, covering its toothy mouth with its hands, before scampering off into the darkness.

Rue scowled, clutching her wrench with one hand. In the other, a brown cat that hissed and raised its hackles at the retreating daemon.

"[Rue's Note to Crew,]" she broadcast to the Noosphere. "[Tiny disease daemons loose in the vents. Beginning purge operations. Don't breathe too deep.]"

 

"They're in the walls...they're in the walls!"

Four tiny replikas huddled in the meditation room, clutching each other.

Beyond their haven, the Warp roared.

No longer the infrequent, low-level whisper or wails of the dead, the noise was immanent. The walls separating the Nomarch from the Immaterium were failing. They could feel the Geller Field gutter and struggle to maintain the bubble of Realspace between them and an infinite abyss of alien physics.

Were it not for the wards etched around the room, the denizens of the Warp would have slipped through already.

"Make it stop..." Nimue muttered, clutching her head. She winced, pulling on her blond hair. "Make it stop!"

"Shh...shh..." Circe cooed, patting the girl's back. "We can't make them leave. Just don't panic, and bear with it..."

"So many are dying," Shahrazad whispered, looking frantically around. She frowned. "Or will die. I can't tell. It's hard to hear, over the..."

"Nurgle's spawn are in the walls," Isis gasped, rising to her hooves and stumbling around the room. She dug her fingers in her scalp. "They've escaped containment! Rose, Jenny, and Chicory sacrifice themselves for nothing!"

"We won't know that until it happens!" Circe hissing sharply at her eldest daughter. "And there are bigger concerns now," she said, softening.

"What happened to Hecate!?" Nimue said, clutching Circe's arm. "Is she alright?"

"I can't hear her over this noise," Shahrazad muttered, shutting her eyes. "So hard to focus."

"I can't either," Circe admitted. She frowned. It hurt her heart, contemplating that her baby might just be dead...or worse. "..."

"W-we can ask the Noosphere!" Isis said, clenching her fists. "Find an Ara that's close! Ask around!"

"R-right," Circe said, shutting her eyes. "Help me focus, girls."

The three touched the eldest Kolibri, granting her power and control.

Circe probed outward. Looked for the familiar, divergent pattern.

One immediately stood out to her.

...Violet? Circe thought, furrowing her brow. Are you okay?

The Ara flinched. She nestled somewhere dark and cramped. Still and quiet.

...Circe? thought Violet. ARAR-N0615 looked around. Is...is that really you?

Yes. Are you safe?

For right now..., thought Violet, hands over her head. She looked away, a pressure in her chest. ...I...don't think I should tell you where. You...might not be who you say you are...

Circe sighed. That's fine. So long as you're safe. Violet, I need you to put a call out on the Noosphere. Hecate isn't with us, and we need to know where she is.

Violet cringed. Oh...oh no...

Circe furrowed her brow. ...what?

That already got posted a couple minutes ago, Violet thought, frowning. I'm sorry, Circe. Hecate...

 

"Hecate! P-please! You need to fight it!"

Thousand eyes blinked on the chapel walls. Whispers issued from the shadows and deep corners.

Trinity's auburn hair billowed, as she clung to the pew. A Blue Horror, grumbling and flailing its arms, floated past. Clawed the air impotently for her.

The statue of the Grand Empress, discolored by opportunistic hexfire, rotated in the air.

Before it, at the center of the confusion of unmoored objects and creatures, the Kolibri levitated.

Back arched, fingers twitching. Chest thrust toward the ceiling, head pitched back. Auburn hair rippled invisibly with power. Eyes alight with solid, shifting colors. Her body, coruscating with warp lightning, bathed the chapel in myriad hues.

Tiny, black horns grew from her temples, her mouth agape in a silent scream. A tear ran up her cheek, falling to the ceiling.

Hecate writhed, locked in combat within her own body. Inside, an invader chuckled.

Give in, little one...your body belongs to me now...hahahaha!

Chapter 89: Anarchy & Terror

"Let go of me! LET GO!"

Hands grew from the ceiling, that once was the floor. Black, spindly, grasping.

The Eule struggled against the limbs, kicking wildly at the air beneath her. Shoulders, wrists, and neck squeezed and bound by uncouth digits. Holding her fast, never letting go.

"Ngh...ngh!" Samantha grunted, tugging and squirming. Face contorted in terror and exertion. "G-get off!" Adrenaline flooded the oxidizing fluid in her veins. In psychosomatic sympathy, artificial muscle fibers tensed, as she felt the phantom sensation of blood rushing from bloodless, polyethalene skin. She cried out, "Dash! Mom! Someone! HELP ME!"

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

She froze, hearing the clacks of hooves on metal surfaces.

Screech.

"...S-Samantha!" Vanessa cried, skidding around a corner and rushing down the corridor. Hooves frantically dodged ceiling lights. She looked fearfully over her shoulder, then ran up.

"Van! Help me!" Samantha yelled, kicking wildly. Eyes wide as dinner plates.

The eldest Eule skidded to a stop, looking hastily up at the collection of arms, then back toward the corner she rounded. Hand tugged a long lock of straw-colored hair. "..."

"Wh-what are you waiting for!?" Samantha barked, ducking her head to avoid a hand grasping for her scalp. "I-"

Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch.

The trapped Eule froze. "...eh?"

Vanessa, eyes widening, jumped in her skin. "Shit!" she cried, before looking back to Samantha. She hopped once, twice, hands reaching for Samantha's legs. She seized the calves, beginning to tug. "We have to hurry! It's coming!"

"Ah! Ah! Ow!" Samantha cried, wincing at the force pulling on her legs, and the pain in her shoulders as hands held firm. Nonetheless, she looked frantically down the hall. "Ah...wh-what's coming? Vanessa?"

"Come on, come on, come on!" Vanessa said, losing her own balance. She hung by her junior's legs, trying to pull the girl down through weight alone. Eyes darting back constantly. "We can't-"

Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch!

The two froze, as the Fiend of Slaanesh skittered around the corner.

Clawed feet clung to the walls, and sinuous tail whipped excitedly. Black eyes regarded the replikas hungrily - lustily - horns jutting from the back of its head. Long, serrated claws, bearing distant relation to crabs, clacked impatiently.

"Aaaaaagh!" Samantha cried, color rushing from her face. "That's a big one! That's-"

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Vanessa grunted, desperately tugging on her junior's legs now. Eyes locked on the daemon as it stalked forward slowly.

As the beast closed the distance - savoring the cruel predicament the Eules found themselves in - Vanessa fell to the floor (ceiling) on her ass.

"..." Vanessa gaped, paling at the sight. She crawled back a foot, as the monster towered over her. Her eyes fixed on the long, serpentine tongue that zipped in and out of its lengthy snout.

What do I do? Vanessa thought frantically, tensing. If I leave, Samantha will-

"Van?" Samantha cried, looking between the daemon and her eldest sister. Panic settling in. "VAN!"

The tongue lashed out, tasting the air in front of the retreating Eule. Then looked luridly at her trapped junior. "Hnnngh..." it moaned, nostrils flaring.

"VANESSA!" Samantha screamed, as a long claw nipped teasingly at her hoof. She kicked at it impotently, flinching as a hand on the ceiling seized her head and yanked it up. "Ah! HELP ME!"

Vanessa trembled, continuing to crawl back. Hands shaking violently. Mouth dry. "...ah...ah..."

She had to run. She had to get away. She had to-

CRASH!

A sliding door on the corridor wall buckled, then burst apart.

Eules and Fiend alike froze, looking over as a hulking form stumbled out. Falling to the floor (ceiling), as gravity reoriented under them.

"...ngh...the hell?"

The Fiend backed up, claws clicking excitedly as a shadow fell over its lilac skin.

"Oi..." said the Schnapper, raising her voice through a covered face plate. Looked directly at the daemon.

"BERTHA!" Samantha cried, a knot unforming in her chest. Even the grasping hands holding her seemed to go still, at the Schnapper's arrival.

"W-watch out!" Vanessa cried, stumbling to her hooves to get out of the way, as the daemon reared into a charge.

"Ngh!" Bertha grunted, throwing up her left arm, as the claw deftly locked its serrated edge onto the soft parts between armor plates. Felt the pressure in her limb.

"Fffip!" The Fiend's tongue shot out, piercing between other plates on the giant's chest and stabbing her coarse skin beneath.

"Bertha!" Vanessa cried, backing up against a wall. Eyes wide in horror, as another claw clamped onto the Schnapper's right leg.

"No!" Samantha breathed, her relief turning to fear. Eyes barely able to follow the daemon's deathly quick movements.

"..." Bertha didn't flinch, as the monster's sinuous tongue traveled across her face plate. Tracking thick, obscene fluids across the armaglass window. Behind the plate, she scowled.

The Fiend moaned, squeezing its claws. Serrations pierced through mesh suit material and polyethalene skin, into artificial muscle bundles. Chest, adorned with multiple sets of halved masculine and feminine breasts, heaved excitedly. Lilac skin twitched, and tail writhed. "...hmmmm..."

Since the giant seemed intent not to move, the Fiend would take its time. Savor the replika's pain...

The Fiend's black eyes widened. It looked up and down the giant. Grunted in confusion.

Where was the pain? It knew their machine bodies had a sense of touch. Of pleasure and pain. It could feel their capacity for it. Felt it when it raked the back of a robed tech-priest. Heard the girl's cries before she slid away into a duct.

Why did the giant feel nothing? Why was it...?

"Heh," Bertha breathed, standing up straight. "Sorry. But I turned my pain receptors off. You perverts picked the wrong girl."

Before the Fiend could withdraw, the giant's left arm wrenched free of its grasp. Layers of arm covering and polythalene skin tore audibly as it pulled loose. The daemon whipped its tongue, before a huge hand seized the probing, impudent appendage with a sickening squelch.

The daemon flinched, shuddering at the sudden, exquisite pain. Lilac skin growing goosebumps all over. Eyes widened in ecstasy, but also fear.

It was here that Vanessa, frozen in place, spotted the weapon in the Schnapper's right hand. Blinked and turned sidelong, as it thrummed to life. "Nah!"

"Now get the hell out!" Bertha growled raising the weapon. Her entire right side bathed in blue light.

Panic gripped the Fiend, desperately clawing and recoiling. But the grip on the tongue held firm. It deliberated a second too long about cutting it off, as the blade came down.

SHING!

"GHHHGH!" the Fiend groaned, as the Astartes power axe cleaved it in twain, from shoulder to calve. Left claw severed as it tried vainly to block.

The Eules watched two halves of the daemon flop to the floor. Unearthly skin began to bubble and dissolve as its spirit was remanded, screaming, back to the Warp.

Bertha thumbed the switch off, cutting the blue light. She popped her face plate open brief, grinning. Raised the axe sheepishly.

"You don't think Jenny will mind I borrowed this, right?"

 

CRASH!

Pots shattered. Water splattered. Decaying plants and fruit scattered to the floor.

A rack of hydroponics stations, tipped over and broken with utmost ease.

Metal screeched against metal, as the giant slide back against the shelf. Arms braced against the hulking, fetid bulk.

"RRROOOOUGH!"

Jenny gritted her teeth, narrowing eyes in the face of the roaring maw spitting green and brown fluids mere inches from her face plate.

"...get...OFF!" she shouted, shoving the abomination back.

"BWAAAGH!" the Beast of Nurgle gurgled, rolling on its back like the toppled slug it resembled. Pudgy arms and head tentacles flailed, as it attempted to right itself. Turgid fluids trailed behind it.

As it flopped and rolled, its neckless head turned to face the Mynah. Regarded her with wall-eyed expression, before its crooked-toothed maw opened wide. Tongue lolled, as it panted and smiled at her.

"Haff...haff..." Jenny panted, wiping a layer of mucus from her armaglass viewing window. "...what...is this thing's problem?"

Ugh...tell me about it, Mik'hul thought, chiming in out of nowhere. Voice dripping with disdain. Can't stay long - Nurglings in the vents - so I'll make this quick. Beasts of Nurgle are basically big, stupid puppies.

"...eh?" Jenny blinked, retreating a step to dodge the Beast's vigorous flopping. "P-puppies? This thing?"

Don't tell me you don't see the resemblance. Nauseating sycophants, all of them. Me, I'm a cat person.

"..." Jenny held up her fists defensively, watching the Beast finally right itself. Swallowed, as it continued panting, absurdly long and juicy tongue flopped out.

When it's in a battle, it thinks everyone it meets is a new friend, and the fight itself as play, Mik'hul thought. They even get sad when their 'new friends' inevitably fall over dead, like they suddenly don't want to play with them anymore. Dumbasses. Try using that against them. Anyway, good luck!

"...okay..." Jenny muttered. Taking glances away from the crawling monster, she spotted an opportunity. "Okay!" she barked, running around the fallen shelving unit. "You want to play?"

"HAH, HAH, HAH!" the Beast panted, head jerking wildly at the giant. It picked up speed, dragging itself excitedly after her.

TING!

"Shit!" Rose grunted, ducking under the rusty sword that banged against a shelving unit. Gritting her teeth, she struck out with a mechadendrite. "Get away!"

"Ack!" the Plaguebearer grunted, stumbling back as green blood erupted from a gash across its face. It touched the wound, and continued grinning. Stumbled after her. "Heheheheheh!"

"Come on!" Rose muttered, limping forward. Chicory's right arm draped over her shoulders. Her burden only barely conscious enough to blindly put one hoof in front of the other.

Green fluids leaked out of the seams in Chicory's chest plate. Dripped on the floor, and on fallen, rotten leaves.

Rose looked over her shoulder and frowned.

"...R...R...hck...Ro-se..."

"Don't...gck...talk..." Rose choked, before being seized by another coughing fit. She spat yellow mucus from her mouth and kept walking. "...we're...glp...gonna make it..."

"...sh...sh-ould...n't 'ave...left..." Chicory gasped, struggling to breathe through incredible congestion. She coughed, painfully voiding her lungs of a great gout of green and brown effluvia. "...ack...'eft...Eusan...not f-followed...mom..."

Rose's lips turned painfully, a knot in her chest forming. "..."

"Hahahahaha!" The Plaguebearer, lazily stumbling in pursuit, continued to laugh. Stained, rotten teeth displayed in a hideous grin.

Stomp-stomp-stomp-stomp-stomp!

Rose turned, looked over her shoulder, then redoubled her pace despite the ache in her joints. "Move!"

The Plaguebearer turned just in time to see a giant hand close over its dumbfounded face.

"You want to play, big guy?" Jenny yelled, her other hand audibly crushing the daemon's left shoulder, for leverage. She turned her whole body to look behind.

"Jenny!" Rose cried, pulling Chicory out of the way.

"Hah! Hah! Hah!" the Beast panted, flopping and dragging itself down a row of shelves. Tongue and head tendrils flopping and flicking fluids.

"Nngh!" Jenny grunted, arm yanking.

RIP!

Green blood fountained from the Plaguebearer's neck stump. Its body, divorced from the head so suddenly, patted its vacant shoulders in confusion as best it could with one shattered shoulder.

Jenny held the horrified daemon's head up. Right where the Beast could see it. "You want it?" she yelled, shaking it for effect. "You want the ball? Huh?"

"HAH! HAH! HAH!" the Beast gurgled, head twitching at the movement. Disjointed eyes focusing, as well they could, on the prize. It vibrated with excitement.

"Go fetch!" Jenny shouted, before chucking the Plaguebearer's head down the row of shelves. Just as quickly she stepped out of the way.

"HROOOUGH!" the Beast roared, sliding forward faster than its immense girth would normally permit, given conventional physics.

The Plaguebearer's blind and rudderless body, arms flailing, disappeared beneath that bulk. Bulldozed and crushed by sheer weight. Muffled sounds of snapping bones and pulping organs audible through the moving slab of putrescent meat.

Down the aisle, other Plaguebearers busied themselves with making a crown of mutating flowers, or tormenting a bloated, dying chicken plucked from the line of coops.

The sound of Jenny's shout even rose above the tinkling of bells and the flatulent instrumentation of the Sloppity Bilepiper.

"...eh?" the Bilepiper whined, turning just in time to see a head pinball off both its subordinates, before beaning the Herald itself in the face. "GAH!"

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

Rubbing its head, the Bilepiper straightened its red, soiled cap, only for its single eye to widen in alarm.

The Beast of Nurgle, following the head like a treasured toy, barreled through sprawling Plaguebearers. Crushed a set of legs under the weight in the process.

Obsession and jubilation showed on the Beast's face. "Hah, hah, hah!" it panted, eyes locked on the prize. Heedless of anything or anyone in its way. Tongue lolling with utmost glee. "Haaaagh!"

"AAAAGH!" the Bilepiper screamed, eye and tongue popping cartoonishly from its face. Threw up its arms as the shadow of the Beast fell over it.

CRUNCH!

 

"Had enough, du stück scheisse!?"

"Bllb blbb ppft!"

Water poured down the Blue Horror's throat, its body expanding like a balloon. One oversized hand pressed frantically against the tiled wall, as its two others hung limp and broken by its side. Magenta eyes widening in pain and horror.

"Drink it, bitch!" Ishtar barked, hands clasped around the Blue Horror's head, forcing its mouth around the showerhead. One hoof pinned a second Blue Horror face-down in the rising waterline. Bubbles burbled and arms flailed as it drowned. The Storch pressed the Horror in her arms harder, jammed the showerhead further down the daemon's throat. "DRINK IT ALL!"

Behind her, Breach pinned a Blue Horror down with her knee, and while she rammed a shard of broken glass in the face of another.

As her victim perished, splitting into twin Brimstone Horrors, Breach snatched the removable showerhead from its holder and sprayed over them.

"YIIIII!" the living flames squealed, their incandescent rage turned to pain and terror as they were doused. Bright, fiery blue eyes widened, maws gaping with charred black teeth. Landing in shin deep water, steam erupted from the surface as the tide consumed them. Yellow light filtered up from the water, as they thrashed hopelessly, before guttering out.

POP!

Ishtar flinched, the engorged mass of blue daemon flesh rupturing. She spat and sputtered beneath a burst of water. Then she smiled, as the pieces of the Blue Horror coalesced into Brimstones that perished immediately in the very wet explosion that spawned them. "...hck...yeah! Take that! Take-"

The water burbled audibly, rising to their thighs.

"Eh?" Ishtar said, looking down.

"What the...?" Breach breathed, wiping soaked hair from her face. She stared as water rose to her waist. "Did the drain get clogged?"

"Shit!" Ishtar exclaimed, raising her arms in alarm, as the water rapidly rose at an unnatural rate. "This isn't-!"

With that, Storch, Star, and remaining Blue Horrors were swept away in a huge tide.

They held their breaths, as they were pulled down into impossible depths. Leaving the showers behind.

 

"-ria, are you okay? Maria! Report!"

Walls banged and scratched. Muffled snarls, cackles, and whines issued through.

Luckily, they avoided the door. Fresh scarlet wards, hastily scrawled around its perimeter, made sure of that.

"...haff...mch...I-I'm alright..." Maria panted, white hand pressed to the weeping cut on her right cheek. Oxident-slick boxcutter clenched in her other hand, as she hunt-and-pecked buttons on the control panel.

Instruction in the rudiments of warding magic, once learned by the Kolibris, was hastily distributed to select members of the crew who displayed a modicum of bioresonance potential. Originally, to make the task of warding the whole ship more manageable...once they had time.

For the Eule, it was all that kept her from being torn apart by an eclectic menagerie of extraplanar abominations presently clawing at the walls of Security. It barred their entry, at least through the door.

Myriad colors reflected off her artificial eyes, as they darted from screen to screen. She flinched with each bang, but swallowed with determination.

"...it's Chaos out there, girls," Maria said, huddled in the rotating desk chair.

"Tell us something we don't know!" came the voice of Artemis, muffled from distance. In the background, she growled, revving a chainsword and slamming it, screeching, into some unseen daemonic blade.

"Ignore STCR-N0602, EULR-N0605," interjected Diodana, drawing close to the radio. "Status report on the Warp Drive, and/or Geller Field Device."

"O-okay..." The Eule frantically cycled through screens. The task proved difficult. Every few seconds, she would be distracted by the carnage on display. Friends, family, sisters, lovers. Chased or hiding or cut or beaten or burned or dragged bodily into the shadows. "...oh no..."

She couldn't help thanking the Grand Empress, the cameras didn't relay audio by default. Maria shuddered at the thought of their screams.

Some camera views showed naught but running gore. The Eule couldn't be sure one of the family hadn't been exsanguinated in gruesome fashion...or if, like the walls that sprouted hands or eyes, or the grotesque images that flashed randomly, it was merely the Warp playing tricks.

"Blood for the Blood God!" screamed a daemon from behind the wall, repeatedly slamming a Hellblade against the surface in rage. "Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

Recovering from a flinch, Maria pressed a oxident-stained hand to her chest, and shook her head. She flipped views until she found the lower levels. Cameras patched into the security system during their original refit.

The Eule longed for those innocent days, when there was only The Work.

Maria gulped. "...Warp Drive is secure. As is Geller Field room. The Wards are holding." She frowned. "...the red ones and purple ones are fighting each other outside the entrance to the module. I-I don't think anyone can-"

The screens flickered. Feeds cut out or shifted wildly.

"Eh?" Maria said, eyes widening. She tapped buttons, trying to restore proper function. "What's...?"

"EULR-N0605?" said Diodana. "Are you there?"

"I'm here, I'm here!" Maria said, smacking the side of the row of screens. "Monitors on the fritz again! I-"

A face flashed on the screen. Leering. Lascivious.

"Ah!" the Eule cried, jerked back in alarm.

The face reappeared. First on one screen, then another. It rapidly shifted, interspersed with visions of exposed skin, heaving chests, sweat, and lips.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Maria whined, pushing away as the screen began to spark and arc with electricity. "Scheisse!"

"Maria?" said Elster, approaching the radio. "What's going on? Maria!"

The Eule sat, transfixed, as the leering face returned to the screen. Filling up the whole grid of monitors. Black-eyed. Lilac-skinned. Androgynous. Puffy lips parted, revealing a grinning row of needle teeth.

"...hello..." groaned an unnatural voice from within the screen, as purple electricity arced to a fever pitch, "...Maria..."

CRASH!

"Aagh!" Maria exclaimed, tilted back in her chair as a burst of glass erupted from the row of monitors.

As the Eule scrambled to her hooves, she looked up, and froze.

One of the screens burst, spitting smoke and sparks. A form arose to its full height, silhouetted against a rapidly returning panoply of security feeds. A head sporting a mohawk of writhing pink hair. Arms rising to expose wicked crab-claws.

"...come here, come here, little girl..." breathed the Daemonette, crunching glass shards beneath clawed, digitigrade feet. It extended a claw, snapping impatiently.

"Maria!" cried Elster over the radio. The device left sitting on the security desk. "Leave her alone, whatever you are!"

"Mom! Help me!" Maria cried, as she backed up fearfully into a wall. Cork boards tacked with papers and photos rattled upon impact. The Eule, heart racing, brandished her boxcutter fearfully. "She...IT's in here with me!"

"Oh, don't be like that," cooed the Daemonette, strutting over. Red emergency lights fell over the approaching monster's face. It narrowed its black eyes, in something passing for seduction. "I can be your mommy, my dear Maria..."

"N-no! Stay back!" Maria yelled, pointing the scarlet-slick tip of the improvised weapon with shaky hands. Her knees wobbled, as a pit formed in her stomach. "I'm warning you!"

"MARIA!" yelled Elster, before a clamor of activity broke out on the other end of the line. Another attack by daemons. "Götterdämmerung!"

"Mom!" Maria yelled, as she made a frantic stab at the monster's outstretched, serrated claw. The boxcutter's blade pinged off the hard carapace, one segment breaking off and flopped to the ground. She looked down in alarm, then back to the daemon as it lunged with its other claw. "...mom...p-please..." she gasped, hands clapping around the clamps that wrapped around her neck.

"Sorry, lover," the Daemonette cooed, squeezing its claw just enough for the struggling Eule to feel the sting. Not enough to break artificial skin. "The Blade of the Arkifane will have to stand by and listen..."

It breathed in Maria's face. Inundated her with the sickly sweet smell of perfume, musk, and...unmentionable bodily aromas.

The Eule, squirming and gulping in terror, froze. As she inhaled - as the smell rose to her brain - she blushed. Her eyes dilated, as her body thrummed with a tingling sensation. "...hhh...gck..."

"Now you're feeling it," the Daemonette said, smiling with needle teeth. It opened its mouth wide, dragging its wet, pink tongue up the Eule's cut cheek. Lapping up oxident with utmost reverence.

"Haaah!" Wincing against the unwanted touch, Maria couldn't help but shudder. She jerked her head away as best she could, even as phantom goosebumps registered across her entire body. "...ngh...stop..." she gasped, even as her knees felt weak. "Stop!"

"...mmm..." the Daemonette said, smacking its lips. It stared the Eule in the eyes. "Delicious vintage. I will enjoy exploring all of you..."

"Mnnnnh!" Maria whined, hands clutching the claw encasing her throat. She sobbed, color rising shamefully to her face. "...please...I d-don't...want this..."

The Daemonette, heedless of consent, drew close. Clamped its other claw on one of the Eule's wrists, yanking it away. As the Eule hissed in pain, the monster leaned in. Mouth full of needle teeth opening, making for the Eule's hyperventilating lips.

As Maria struggled to avoid the kiss, her eyes caught the rapid flash of the security screens over the daemon's shoulder. The arcs of electricity. And the horrible symbol of a skull, bisected down the middle, black and white.

CRASH!

"HRAGH!" the Daemonette growled, pulling away. It half turned, barring its teeth. "Begone! She's mine! Sh-"

Black eyes widened. The Daemonette let go of the Eule and wheeled fully around.

"Hck! Haaagh!" Maria gasped, hands rubbing her neck. Already weak knees buckled, as she slid down against the wall to sit. "...agh..."

Heart still racing, hands shaking, she almost felt...disappointed. "..."

The Eule absolutely did not want it. Had vociferously denied consent. From what little she knew of the powers of Chaos, the daemon would have hurt her. Hurt her terribly, beyond what humans, gestalt or replika, were meant to endure.

Still, even knowing this...to her immense revulsion...her body balked at being denied. A part of her wanted that contact. Relished the pain the daemon offered.

...what...is this feeling? Maria thought, trembling. Looked down at her hands. Fucked up. It's fucked up! I can't...

"No! It can't be!"

Eyes darting up, Maria watched the Daemonette, locked in a standoff with...something somehow more horrifying. Made all the worse because, blocked by the androgynous daemon's body, Maria could only see bits and piece of the newcomers baleful silhouette.

"Y-you can't be here!" the Daemonette cried, claws held out defensively. "The Four have claimed this ship! Your kind can't be here! Slaanesh will not allow it!" Without warning, it lunged.

Smack!

"Ack!" the Daemonette grunted, staggering as a black iron mace crunched against its face. With the speed of thought, it swiped back. "Hah!"

Its adversary ducked under the wild swing, crab claws sparking against the tops of curving horns.

Shing.

"Gck!" the Daemonette gasped, as a short, curved blade thrust through its chest.

Maria's eyes widened, watching a stark white blade protrude from the Daemonette's back. Unblemished by blood. Instead, black smoke wept from the wound, rising toward the ceiling before dissipating from sight.

Curved horns rose, poking above the Daemonette's head. Lipless mouth opened, whispering into its ear. "...we shall deny Slaanesh their pleasure and pain..."

"Gah...ngh..." the Daemonette groaned, body locked in place. Muscles twitching. "...no..."

Shing.

The adversary withdrew the blade, allowing the Daemonette to sink to its knees.

Snapping out of her shock, Maria frantically crawled under the desk bearing the Empire-pattern comms station. Pressed her knees to her chest, and watched, transfixed. "..."

Claws clutching its chest, the Daemonette coughed and heaved. Black smoke issued from its lips. It turned its head, such that the Eule could see it in profile. Black eyes widened in shock. "...numb..." it gasped, smoke billowing out with every word. Black veins snaked like roots across its skin, as lilac turned pale and desaturated. "I feel...numb...Dark Prince, save me!"

The Daemonette's assailant raised its mace high. Maria, seeing this in silhouette against the light of the security monitors, clasped her eyes shut. "!!!"

CRUNCH!

"..." Flinching, she heard the heaving body of the Daemonette collapse to the ground. Unable to resist, Maria cracked one eye open. Watched what remained of the daemon's head disintegrate into odious black ash, along with the fragments of skull that littered the floor. Black veins consumed the twitching body, until it dissolved into a pile of dust.

For a moment, even the crashing roar against the wall outside ceased. For a moment, an...abominable silence ruled.

"...hmm..."

Smoke and ash rose up from the pile. Inhaled by the creature that felled the Daemonette through pale nose-holes. Inhaled greedily and deeply.

Then, one hoof stepped forward. Stamped the pile, as Reality itself started to banish it - what remained of it - to the Warp. Ground the colorless residue beneath a hoof that was all too animal.

Maria pressed herself back against the corner. Clapped a hand over her mouth. "..."

Step. Step. Step.

Impossibly quiet hoofsteps. As if the very act of making noise was beneath it.

Her entire body trembled. Sweat poured down her brow. "..."

None of the arousal from before persisted. Now only a complete terror ruled the Eule's body and heart. She couldn't breathe. Dared not.

It stopped before her, goat hooves mere centimeters from her own.

Eyes widened, muscles locked painfully. Her heart and mind raced, as panic took hold.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm...

"-ria! MARIA!"

The black-furred figure jerked around. Huffed indignantly, as the noise outside started up again.

Maria dared not speak. Though she longed to cry out to her mother for help. She dared not speak. Dared not breathe. Spots began to form on the edge of her vision.

"Maria, are you okay!?" Elster yelled. "Answer me!"

Slow, silent steps. Step. Step. Step.

The Eule watched the new daemon stalk to the radio. Saw the sway of a tail ending in a tuft of black hair, and the curtain of black dreadlocks down its back.

Saw it extend two fingers on the hand gripping the curved shortsword, and pick it up the plastic antenna.

"Whatever you are," Elster growled, "answer me! What did you do to Maria!?"

"...nothing," the Claw said, gravelly voice issuing from a lipless mouth.

"...who is this?" Elster said, in more even tone.

"Blade of the Arkifane..." the Claw rumbled, its voice low and slow, "the Hierarch of Anarchy and Terror has marked your master for death as well."

"Eh? Who..."

Maria, struggling to keep from breathing as her body trembled, watched the daemon cast the radio aside like a forgotten toy. "..."

"What do you mean?" Elster barked. "Who is this Hierarch? Hello? Answer m-!"

Step. Step. Step.

The Claw allowed the replika commander to sputter and demand, as it stomped to the door of Security.

It stood, staring at it. Bleached-white skull turning to study the rough warding script, writ in oxident.

If not for terror, Maria may have passed out on the spot. Her vision swam.

"Woman."

"HIII!" Maria squeaked, before gasping for a single breath. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Wards," the Claw growled, turning its head fractionally toward the Eule. "Remove."

Maria panted rapidly, lungs desperately sucking air, even as her whole body trembled. She was rooted in place. "...ngh..."

"NOW."

"YES!" Maria gasped, scrambling out from under the table. "I-I'm c-coming!" She rushed forward, keeping an eye firmly on the daemon. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, body ready for fight or flight at the slightest twitch. "..."

As she stood by the doorway, terribly close to the monochrome daemon, Maria dared to look in its eyes.

The ram's skull acting as its head, from which incongruous black dreadlocks cascaded back and over its shoulders, regarded her coldly. Empty, black sockets housed pinpricks of cold, white light. Like single triumphant suns twinkling amid an infinity of murdered stars.

They peered into the Eule with the utmost malice.

Barely able to tear her eyes away, Maria raised a shaky finger. The noise outside reached a fever pitch, the daemon assailants knowing the way would be unbarred.

Reluctantly, stretching her arm out and bracing, Maria smudged a single symbol of arcane script.

"Ah!" she yelped, backing away as the Claw wasted no time in slamming a button on the control panel with its clenched fist.

The door slid open. A group of daemons - red and purple and pink and blue - crowded around, practically wrestling with one another for space. Their voices rose in furious anticipation.

As their eyes fell on the Claw, they balked in terror. Fell deathly silent.

"RRRRAAAAGH!"" roared the Claw, ram jaw opening unnaturally wide. It dove through the doorway, weapons raised.

"Maria!" Elster cried, over the radio. "What's going on!? Are you okay!?"

The Eule wasted no time. She rushed forward again, fingers fumbling at the door controls. "C'mon, c'mon..." she whined, heart racing. "Close!"

"DEATH TO THE DARK GODS!" roared the Claw, meeting a set of snarling Bloodletters head on, the only daemons brave enough to stand defiant. Their weapons clanged and shot sparks. "GLORY TO THE RENEGADE GOD! GLORY TO MALAL!"

Finally, the door slid shut, just as a Blue Horror slammed into it. It scratched frantically, not in desire, but it panic.

Daubing fresh oxident on shaking finger, Maria muttered incantations under her breath. Reformed the ward on the door. Upon completing the circuit again, she heard the scratching cease with a cry of pain.

"Ah!" she flinched, as metal and bodies crashed around the corridor outside. She staggered back to the security monitors, and began frantically drawing a new circle of blood on the floor.

"Maria! Are you okay!?" Elster cried, more frantic now. "Talk to me!"

Fresh circle complete, Maria sat down and curled into a ball. She gripped the radio in her hand, and shut her eyes. "...mommy...please..."

"Baby, are you alright?" Elster said, voice softening.

"...y-yes...no..." Maria sobbed, hugging knees to her chest. She wiped tears from her eyes. "I don't know...I'm..."

"It's going to be okay, baby," Elster breathed. "It's going to be okay..."

Maria couldn't answer. She could only loudly sob, burying her face in her knees.

Behind her, through the wall, the Claw of Malal slaughtered. And the forces of the Dark Gods screamed.

 

"Why are they coming to life!?"

A replika hand clawed the air in front of his face. He gritted his teeth, holding the arm as far away as he could.

Chattering filled the air, as spare or unused replika skulls clicked and clacked of their own volition.

"...don't know," Daisy grunted, holding up a chattering metal skull. "Warp bullshit, probably." She frowned, and chucked it at another errant arm dragging itself toward her. They clattered audibly on the metal floor. She looked over her shoulder. A disembodied leg hopped toward her from a the corner, aiming to literally kick her ass. With a thought, one of her mechadendrites reached out and pushed the leg over. It kicked wildly, unable to right itself.

"...Dio's going to insist we ritually cleanse all of these parts..." she sighed, hunching her shoulders.

A shiver ran up her spine. Head jerked to the opposite corner of the room.

Past the administrator, angrily wrestling with an arm while pinning a leg to the ground with his hoof.

Amid the tumult of limbs hung on walls or dragging on the floor, she nearly forgot.

They hadn't placed it in warded storage.

The white sheet in the corner stirred, as the shape beneath it sat up.

"Adler!" Daisy shouted.

The administrator's head shot up. He looked at the Ara. "...eh?"

"Look out! Behind you!"

Adler jerked his head the other way, only for his eyes to widen. "...no..."

The replike beneath the sheet towered over him.

Slowly, gravity pulled the sheet down.

"...y-you!" Adler gasped, nearly tripping in his haste to step away. He raised his hand in front of him. "It can't be!"

The FLKR chassis leered down at Adler with artificial eyes. From deep within their mechanical depths, pinpricks of purple light showed.

Slowly, the bare, grinning skull was enveloped by a layer of lilac flesh. Turning the deathmask into a hauntingly beautiful smile.

"...Adler..." said the Slaaneshi invader. They extended a hand and pointed down.

"Kneel."

Notes:

Some people may have thought my oblique references to Malal back in the Caliban arc were merely cute, deep cut easter eggs.

This is not the case. Malal is a major plot point, and you're going to see a lot more of the Renegade God's influence from here on out.

Because this is my fanfic, and I'm not bound by the same rights issues as Games Workshop.

Chapter 90: The Beautiful Blasphemy

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Incense, chanting, and the screams of daemons filled the air.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Silver hand bell rang out in time with marching hooves.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Wind whipped through hair, as unclean spirits circled the advancing group. Torn between soul-deep longing to possess such potent vessels...and the abjurant tones ringing out from them.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

In one hand, the eldest Kolibri held open a thick tome. Pages turned to incantations that spilled forth from her mouth.

Her other hand upraised, index and middle fingers extended toward the ceiling.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

"Wwwraagh!"

A Pink Horror, previously recoiled, made a mad dash toward the advancing line of bioresonant adepts. Its fear overcome by desires that were base. Bright yellow eyes alight with ambition. It couldn't allow any other daemon claim them. To possess them. To warp and change and inhabit them, worn like living, malleable suits. It reached out an oversized, clawed hand toward the Kolibri.

The eldest pulled her hand back, twisting it 90 degrees so it pointed across her nose.

"VERSCHWINDE!" Circe barked, voice vibrating each syllable. Palm jutting forward toward the daemon.

Only too late did the Horror's eyes widen, and reaching hand retract. Mouth gaped in alarm, as the Kolibri's arm extended to its full length in an instant.

"AAAAAGH!" it cried, body struck by invisible force of pure abjuration. Color-shifting flesh sloughed off its bones. As if struck by a shotgun, its body dissolved into smoke and fire.

All physical traces vanished. Banished from the Nomarch, like a bad memory.

The Pink Horror's soul howled, remanded to the abyss from whence it came. Barred from returning to the vessel for a century and a day.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Circe strode through the evaporating cloud of smoke. Her daughters followed, not pausing their incantation for a moment. Hands and faces daubed by painted symbols of warding.

Isis held the stave upright, topped by three stars wrought in electrum. Sharazad tolled the bell. Nimue swung the censor.

The corridor before them, choked with mist and twisted into a spiral, shuddered at their approach.

"Ich Tadele dich! I rebuke you!" Circe growled, extending her hand again and locking it into a claw. She clenched, rotating.

Metal groaned and spirits wailed. Though it struggled and writhed, the corridor twisted back into proper alignment. Chastened, a missing doorway melted out from a vacant wall, revealing the stairwell access.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Circe's brows furrowed. She trudged forward. Blood boiling. Her daughters behind her.

We're coming, Hecate. Nothing will stand in our way.

 

"[Heading your way.]"

Shuffle. Shunk. Bump.

Handle gripped in a tightened fist. Finger trigger-bound. Hand pressed to a navy blue mask over nose and mouth, roughly ripped from a jumpsuit. Eyes fixed forward.

Rue swallowed. "[Acknowledged.]"

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

"Hiss!" The feline arched her back, fur stood on end. She tucked herself against Rue's side, fangs bared.

The Ara narrowed her eyes. Finger tightened.

"Heh heh heh heh heh!" cackled the daemon, as it zipped around the corner. Clawed feet pattered on the metal ceiling of the vent.

Fwoosh!

"GAH!" the Nurgling cried, bloated body engulfed in flame. Leaking fluids hissed at the heat. Darkness banished.

It flailed its tiny arms. "Hah hah hah hah hah!" it laughed stupidly, rolling around.

Rue frowned behind her impromptu mask. Was it trying to extinguish itself? Did it even know to do that? Or did it merely consider its immolation a kind of game? None of the disgusting creatures seemed to feel pain at all.

She fingered the trigger again.

Fwoosh!

"Gah! Hah hah...HAH!" the Nurgling squealed, its unreal flesh cooking beneath the renewed onslaught.

The Ara didn't let up until the flaming mound stopped squirming.

"Hiss!"

Rue jumped, rolling over. Spying the cat, she dropped her modified welder and grabbed for her tool belt.

"HEEEE!" cried another Nurgling, scrambling rapidly toward her from the opposite direction. Slavering mouth leaking unwholesome-smelling drool, its sole eye fixed on her rump.

Shik. Shik. Shik.

"Gah!"

Nails embedded in the daemon at high speed, popping its eye and sending it sprawling. One nail caught it in the hand, pinning it to the vent wall.

"Gh....hah hah...ngh!" It thrashed and squirmed, chuckling to itself, even as it groped blindly. Ocher pus dripped from a ruptured stomach.

The cat, sneezing, ducked back behind the Ara. "Hiss!" it repeated, at the invading element from beyond reality.

"..." Rue huffed, free hand pressing the mask harder over her mouth and nose. She pinched her nose, to arrest the awful stench of rot and burning meat. She looked furtively over her shoulder, watching the burning Nurgling's body begin to dissolve.

"[...one eliminated]," she reported over the Noosphere. Turned back to the pinned Nurgling. Readied her modified nailgun. "[Another trapped. Finishing.]"

"[...acknowledged]." After a few seconds, Violet continued, "[Rue...are you okay?]"

Shik.

The Nurgling stopped moving, as another nail pierced something vital in its tiny chest, despite all the blubber. It flopped down, hanging limp by the arm fixed to the wall.

Rue frowned. "[Define 'okay'. Because this isn't a good day.]"

"[I'm not feeling so good]," Violet messaged.

"..."

Rue stroked the cat beside her, looking between the two directions. She frowned.

"[I know.]"

 

"Hah, hah, hah!"

Slam. Slam. Slam.

Trisk tossed pans behind her, messy black hair bouncing and dripping with sweat as she dashed.

Flames flew wildly around her. One caught the strap of her apron. She patted it out with her hand, ducking into the walk-in freezer.

Slam. Slam. Slam.

"C-come on!" she shouted, hands grasping at a pack of frozen vegetables as old as the Nomarch itself. "Over here!"

Flames hissed furiously, black teeth chomping. The Brimstone Horrors gave chase. Knocked pans over and sent plates crashing to the floor as they scrambled over scorched tiles and melting linoleum. Hot-footed and incensed at being demoted by way of multiplication (division?).

Slam. Slam. Slam.

"Th-that's right!" the baby goth yelled, retreating deeper into the freezer. Trisk seized a stick of butter, rock solid, from an open box. She chucked it at the onrushing daemons. "Come and get me!"

One Brimstone Horror yelped in pain as the frozen dairy block struck it dead on. Nonetheless, it and its kin sped into the freezer. Their burning toes sizzled and snapped at the cold metal floor. They yipped in alarm.

"Yah!" Trisk grunted, chucking her pack of ancient, Kitezhian peas. As it sent the Brims reeling, she broke into a sprint. Dove through their line, just as they continued to run further in through sheer inertia. Wincing at the heat that lapped her skin and the smell of singed clothes.

Slam. Slam. Crunch.

"Rrragh!" Trisk roared, skidding to a halt and throwing her full weight into the freezer door. The heavy metal slab groaned, swinging shut. Cold vapor billowed through the crack as it sealed.

Hopping from foot to foot, the Brimstones realized their error too late. They rushed, bitterly and furiously, toward the door. High pitched voices screaming invectives in the blasphemous tongue of the Crystal Labyrinth.

Shunk. Click.

Trisk pressed her back against the freezer door. Felt tiny bangs from the other side. Heard the furious scratches. Tested the door latch to prove it caught, then exhaled. Heart thrumming in her ears.

Crunch. Crunch. Squelch.

Removing her apron, Trisk slid against the cold metal surface to the floor. Panting and sweating. Apron and jeans and obscure Terran band t-shirt smoking from a multitude of flames.

"Haff...haff...hooo..." she wheezed, palms on her knees, head drooped forward. She gasped, to fill her aching lungs.

Behind her, the scratches and bangs grew more frantic. Desperate. Growls of rage turned to yips of fear.

One by one, the clawing stopped. Cold sucked the life out of the abominations, until only silence and lightly scorched metal remained in the freezer.

Crunch. Squelch. Slam.

Taking deep breaths, Trisk stood up. Hooves clacked on tile, as she rounded the corner of the front aisle.

Slam. Slam. Crunch.

"...Meryl..." Trisk breathed, leaning hard on the counter.

The head cook raised the wooden mallet. Slammed it down with both hands.

Slam.

Wet meat jiggled beneath the strike. A claw, limp on the floor, twitched slightly.

Meryl raised the mallet.

Squelch.

Raised it again. Sweat dripped from the end of her nose.

"Meryl!"

The elder Eule froze. Mallet poised over her head. She panted heavily, sweat-slick blue hair hung over her eyes.

Trisk pressed a hand to her heaving chest. "...I think you killed it."

The two Eules looked down at the Daemonette. Lilac flesh peeling. Lying still in a puddle of steaming water, turned red from blood.

Skull pulverized, and brain pulped. Nothing remained of the daemon's face, but scraps of burned meat.

Only when the corpse began to dissolve - its profane occupant remanded to the abyss from whence it came - did Meryl allow the mallet to drop. It splashed on the scalding water pooling at her knees.

"...i-isn't the water burning you?" Trisk asked, frowning. Held out a trembling hand.

Meryl, still panting, grimaced.

"...my knees are artificial. They can be fixed."

 

"This way! Move!"

Fwoosh!

Flames cascaded down the corridor. Jets of yellow, that swept across surfaces and filled the space.

The billowing, blue-and-purple body floated over the floor. Mouths and jagged, tooth-some openings belched fire with wild abandon.

The Flamer of Tzeentch vented its insatiable lust for change.

"Go! Go! Go!" Heidi cried, clutching a medical bag. She had to look away from a writhing mass of metal, polyethylene, and flesh on the floor. Away from the eyes staring forlornly up at her, as they ran along a puddle like marbles in running wax.

Put out of her mind questions of which of her family was so liquified. There was nothing she could do for them now.

Heat and yellow light washed over them, as the flames crept closer.

"Here! Move!" Myrtle yelled, pointing the group around a corner. She pulled Sally's hand, as if to force her girlfriend along through brute force alone.

She and Heidi were quick to duck around the corner. Though they felt the flames nip at their hooves or scorch their lab coats.

They looked back, watching in horror as their companions were not so fortunate.

"ARGH!" Sally cried, eyes widening as the flames danced across the left side of her body. "AAAGH!"

"SALLY!" Myrtle screamed, pulling her girlfriend from the inferno.

Heidi gasped in horror. "TEASEL!"

The Ara with the straw-colored hair grimaced, enveloped utterly in fire. She tried to cry out, stumbling to a stop. "..."

Hand still outstretched, Teasel's eyes widened in confusion. Limbs and face grinding to a halt, frozen in place.

The medic Eule watched, as the Ara's body was not burned. But instead slowly grew transparent. Clear. Formed cut edges and pure facets.

Transformed. Transmuted into pure crystal. Only a splash of scarlet in the center - an imperfection in the stone - revealed it to have once lived.

"Sally! SALLY!"

"Argh! Argh!" Sally cried, rolling on the ground in panic.

Myrtle patted her side frantically, heedless of the fire. "Come on! D-don't...!" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. Her thoughts filled with nothing but death. "Heidi! Help me!"

"...ah..." Heidi trembled, holding herself. Eyes fixed on the crystal statue that was once her friend, and occasional lover. "...T-Teasel...no..." Tears formed at the edges of her eyes.

"HEIDI! SOMETHING'S WRONG!"

The medic snapped to attention, rushing over. She sank to her knees on the opposite side of her fellow Eule. She looked down at the unburning figure, and froze in shock. "...wh-what?"

Myrtle stared down at her discolered palms - black polyethylene turned swirling shades of blue and purple - then at her girlfriend. "...S-Sally..."

"Agh!" Sally groaned, writhing on the ground. Left arm, sprouting feathers from formerly inert material, crossed over her face. "Fuck! Fuck! It hurts!"

"S-stop! Calm down!" Heidi cried, medic training taking over. She placed her hands on the scales lining the woman's shoulders and side, and tried to get the patient under control. "Sally, it's going to be okay!"

Sally looked up through splayed fingers, left eye now sporting twin pupils. She was hyperventilating, hand pawing at her cheek. The left side of her face etched in complex, fractal blue designs. Within their twists and whirls, arcane symbols could be seen.

They hurt to look at. Oh, how they promised. Oh, how they lied.

Fwoosh!

"Shit!" Myrtle yelled, looking up. She tucked her hands under Sally's armpits and started to pull her away. "Move! Move!"

Heidi balked, scrambling away as they watched the Flamer float menacingly around the corner.

The Eule medic's eyes watched with horror as the flames issuing from the daemon's "skirt" danced and writhed. Assumed miniature, mocking forms of Heidi herself, engaging in exaggerated and lewd actions. "...agh!" she cried, crawling backward. "N-no!"

"Get out of the way!"

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

The Flamer looked to its right, just in time for a giant to barrel into it. Slammed the daemon with a ceramite riot shield.

"Ah!" Heidi cried, dancing past the flames to peek around the corner. "Olga!"

"We're not done, you freak!" Olga barked, not slowing her charge even slightly. Instead, the daemon's floppy, hollow arms hung on either side of the shield, its many mouths gaping in surprise from behind the armaglass viewing port.

They traveled, Schnapper and Flamer, down the length of the corridor. Moving at full speed. Like a hand puppet, degloved from its controller and stuck to the front of a rushing train.

"Take this!" Olga yelled, bracing herself for impact against a far wall.

"HRROOOOOO!" the Flamer howled, venting flames impotently from its arms in all directions.

CRASH!

FWOOOM!

Crushed between a giant and a hard place, the Flamer's body exploded in fire. Yet its burst merely scorched and change the surface layer of the ceramite plate. Flames shot out in all directions, but only around the Schnapper.

Olga gritted her teeth. Feeling the inertia of the sudden stop in her internal organs. But she deactivated her mechanical pain receptors, so she barely felt the heat, if at all, as it licked her shoulders and legs.

Pulling back, she watched the tatters of the daemon's body come loose from an impact crater of mosaic tiles, marble, and woven tree roots set in what was once a metal wall. Myriad colors radiating out from the center, like the outstretched wings of a butterfy.

She looked down, seeing her legs discolored and given odd surface textures. "...fuck...I hope we can fix that..."

"AAAGH!"

"Eh?" Olga grunted, half-turning. "Shit! Those girls!"

"Sally!" Myrtle cried, pulling her girlfriend toward the sliding door of the nursery-turned-workroom. "What's wrong!?"

The Eule pilot clutched the left side of her chest. Face, already bearing arcane scars, contorted in pain.

"Grgh!" she grunted, screwing her eyes shut. "...hurts! It hurts!" She coughed violently into her hand, then held the palm out.

The three replikas looked at it with horror.

It was covered in blue blood.

 

"B-blood...for the blood..."

CRACK!

Red body staggered into a wall covered in eyes. The orbs watched the Bloodletter fall, its skull cracked. Hellblade clattered to the floor. Watched scarlet flesh discolor, turn gray. Unseen micro-fractures in the skull expanded rapidly, audibly. Turned the bones to dust, even as blood issued from lacerations in the skin like smoke.

A silent step. The wall-eyes shot back up.

They snapped shut in fear, the moment a hoof stomped the Bloodletter's head contemptuously. Peeked tentatively, watching it ground to dust.

"...we shall deny Khorne their blood and skulls..."

The Claw of Malal stalked silently down the corridor. Black earholes peeled, drinking in the sound of distant screams. Pinpricks of light issued from black sockets, as its ram skull head looked around.

It turned a corner and stopped.

Another Claw. Deer-skulled, straight horned. Brandishing twin maces. Skin caked in the dissolving viscera of infernal victims.

The two froze. Regarded each other warily with hollow eyes.

"..."

"..."

Hands clenched weapons. Instinctive response, to the presence of another daemon.

"..."

"..."

They continued to stare. Despite the air charged with homicidal antipathy, they did not engage.

In an earlier age - if, indeed, such concepts as Linear Time meant anything to the Neverborn - the two Claws would be at each other's throats. In absence of other warpspawn, or else a stronger daemon of malice to wrangle them through sheer force or the prospect of greater prey, they would fight one another.

It was in their nature. They were internecine conflict made manifest. Internal strife, externalized. Chaos Divided.

It was their nature. Was. But their nature, and that of their master, had changed.

"...aaaaagh!"

Distant screams broke the silence. The two Claws turned away, ears seeking the sound. Black dreadlocks swayed as skulls shifted.

The ram-head turned to its erstwhile compatriot. "...ladder up..." it wheezed, shrugging its shoulder toward the direction it came. "...prey..."

"...you go down..." the deer-head replied. "...I go up..."

Ram-head nodded, internally seething at agreement with anyone, on anything. But it couldn't be helped.

The Hierarch of Anarchy and Terror had a greater role, now. As did they.

The Claws passed one another, eyes like lonesome stars fixed ahead.

"...death to the Dark Gods..." ram-head said, hooves soundlessly stomping on cold metal.

"...for the Renegade God..." deer-head said, spying the ladder in the distance.

For once, they spoke as one, though they parted ways. One cannot expect too much collaboration, after all.

"Let...the galaxy...burn!"

 

"Bring it to me...sexy..."

Breath hitched. Artificial muscles twitched. Phantom goosebumps broke out over polyethylene skin.

"...I-I..."

Adler couldn't blink. Couldn't move. Couldn't keep wide eyes off the statuesque giant in front of him. And their writhing, pink hair.

Lips parted, revealing a mouth full of needle teeth. An irresistible smile. "...big boy...handsome boy..."

"...who...?" Adler breathed, chest fluttering. "...you're not...you're not Falke..."

"No..." said the daemon, through the FLKR chassis's mouth. A hand stretched out, fingers hovering just out of reach of his chin. "I'm better. Perfect. Or...I will be." They chuckled, inviting the male replika to lean into their hand. Stared into his eyes with their own stolen orbs, artificial irises gleaming with purple light from within. "Call me Golgatha L'reeth, the Beautiful Blasphemy. Herald of Slaanesh..."

"...S-S-Slaanesh..." Adler wheezed. Hair stood on end. Color drained from his face. "...n-no...I can't..."

"Of course you can," Golgatha L'reeth giggled, pressing a free hand to their lilac cheek. They waved a hand toward parts storage. "You can have all of me - all that I can give - just so long as you retrieve it for me. The missing piece."

A voice rang out in the back of Adler's mind. Persistent awareness he was in mortal - no, existential - danger.

Yet, he couldn't move. Couldn't stop staring. He breathed. Their musk...intoxicating.

"The brain, Adler," the daemon whispered, growing slyly insistent. Narrowed one eyelid, grinning hungrily. "I need the brain. Then I'll be Perfect. Powerful!"

A knot formed in Adler's chest. He gulped.

"With the FLKR brain," Golgatha said, taking up a commanding, regal voice, "I will be complete. Perfect. Transcendent. Unstoppable! I will rule the pathetic mortal world! And you will stand by my side, my scrumptious consort!"

They stroked Adler's cheek. He shuddered, sucking a frantic breath. Goosebumps broke out on his face, skin dancing with electricity. Oxident rushed to his nethers, seeking parts he did not possess, but his brain and flesh remembered.

His features softened. Eyes dilated. "...my...lady..."

"Now, Adler..." the daemon insisted, rubbing his skin affectionately. Possessively. They inclined their head, and pointed toward Parts Storage. "Get. Me. The brain."

"Y-you want a brain?"

The two turned to the chainlink door as it swung open.

Hooves clacked on metal floor. Oxide red robes fluttered, and mechadendrites coiled.

"...eh?" Adler breathed, tearing his attention away from the goddess of desire to see the glint of light off a glass container.

Hands raised the receptacle.

The daemon recoiled, beatific features growing hideous with alarm. "Aaagh! No!" Golgatha cried, blocking their face with a hand. "What is that!?"

The FDMR brain bobbed in amniotic fluid. It radiated a disquieting aura. An invisible, dark miasma that dulled the mind and sucked all color from the world.

All around her hooves, previously animate replika limbs guttered and went inert. Even the unearthly shadows and cloying, perfume-like musk receded from its presence. A world on the brink of revolt against logic and proportion, resolutely put back in its place. Its spirit broken, and forced to obey the mundane and ordered laws of a mundane and ordered universe once more.

Daisy held the glass container up. "I've g-got...your brain! Right h-here!"

"Noooo!" Golgatha growled, long legs stepping back in terror. "That's not...! What is that brain!? It's horrible!"

"Daisy!" Adler grunted, stepping back from the Ara. He looked in horror at the recoiling daemon. "Stop! You're distressing-!"

"Adler, come on!" Daisy yelled, moving past him. "That's a daemon!"

"No! Don't listen to her, Adler!" Golgatha L'reeth cried, backing away one, two steps. Watched the Ara approach, brandishing the baleful brain. Pink hair whipped wildly, drifting back, away from the object. "Stop! Get it away from me!"

"Adler, we need to run!" Daisy yelled, keeping her eyes on the creature puppeting the Falke chassis. "Find Elster! She'll know what to-"

"No!"

Adler tackled the Ara, sending both to the ground.

Smash!

Daisy, grunting and struggling against the grasping administrator, looked over with widening eyes. Her heart sank. "No!" she cried.

The Blank brain lay on the floor, in a puddle of fluid and broken shards. If not for the use of safety glass in the container's construction, it might have sliced the fragile organ to ribbons. It glistened in the overhead lights.

"Y-yes!" Golgatha breathed, rising to their full height again. They smiled, looking at the administrator struggling with the tech priest. "Seize her, you sexy beast! And once we're done with her, get me my-"

"Machine God-dammit, Adler!" Daisy yelled, kicking the administrator off. "We only have one of those!"

"I...I need to protect her!" Adler breathed, rolling over. He rose to his hands and knees. "She's..."

SLAP.

Adler clutched his reddening face. Looked at the Ara. "..."

Her open hand pulled away. She forced a frown, eyes staring daggers at him.

"She's a daemon, you idiot!" Daisy yelled. "She's n-not your promised love! She's just using you!"

Adler, shaking, looked over the Ara's shoulders. Looked high up at the figure approaching from behind.

The beatific features were gone. Only a hideous, smiling malice remained.

"Ah!" Daisy cried, as hands grasped her and pulled her up. "Adler!"

"Daisy!" Adler gasped, struggling to his hooves. The scales pulled from his eyes. "Stop!"

"Troublesome insect!" Golgatha roared, triumphant. Their hair warred with the Ara's mechadendrites. Pinned struggling limbs, as the possessed replika body pulled the Ara into the air. "I don't need the FLKR brain to deal with you!"

"Adler!" Daisy cried, hand pawing at her belt. An animate lock of hair coiled around her wrist, forcing her to drop the wrench.

"L-leave her alone!" Adler yelled, running over.

"Out of the WAY, fool!" the daemon grunted, slapping the replika man aside. Watched side-eyed as he stumbled past, landing on the floor behind them.

"Ngh..." Adler grunted, rising to his knees again. "Daisy!" he gasped, watching in horror as the Ara was "man"-handled by the daemon. "No!"

"[Adler, quickly!]"

He blinked. Hand rising to his head.

As administrator, Adler naturally had a Noosphere module of his own. All the easier to coordinate operations on the Nomarch.

Daisy looked him in the eyes, even as she struggled against the creature ensnaring her.

"[Drawer behind you]," Daisy messaged, jerking her head to the side. Legs kicking wildly at the air. "[Top row, third from the left. The device with the wires.]"

Adler blinked.

"Come on!" Daisy yelled, before a lock of pink hair coiled around her neck. "Ggh!"

"[Right!]" Adler messaged, stumbling frantically to his hooves and turning around.

"Now, now..." Golgatha crooned, free hand stroking the Ara's cheek as she writhed and gagged.

"Come on, come on!"

Their hand - the stolen hand - traveled down. First caressing the neck, around strangling hair, then lower. They felt the Ara freeze up, as the daemon groped her chest. Eyes shot up, watching the lascivious sneer on the daemon's face. Then, the hand traveled lower still, until they found a spot right under her bust.

"Where is it!?"

With a single finger, the daemon jammed hard on a pressure point.

"...gah!" Daisy gasped, the hair loosening just enough to permit her breath in time with the shooting pain racking her body. Eyes widened, teeth clenched. "Ngh!" she whined, eyes wincing.

"Where? WHERE!?"

"There it is..." Golgatha breathed, finger grinding into the pressure point. They luxuriated in the Ara's squirms. Her pain. "For machines, you replikas are so sensitive. Real pieces of work. I now fully understand why that bore from the Soul Forges took such an interest. Machines that can FEEL. Passion, pleasure, and pain. Exquisite."

"There! Got it!"

Their mouth opened. Long, pink tongue dragged over the trembling Ara's face. Allowed the finger to recede, so she could breathe again.

Daisy gasped, blinking and shivering. Face frowned, skin crawling at the slimy, unasked-for sensation on her cheek. "..."

"Once I have my brain," Golgatha chuckled, the gaping, toothy maw on the top of their head nested among writhing hair opening and closing eagerly, "and your whole crew bow before me...I look forward to exploring every inch of sensation that can be found in the replika body. In mine, and yours. And when I'm done, you'll scream for mor-"

"Get off her!"

"GNAH!" the daemon grunted, as the replika man leaped onto their back. They bent forward due to the sudden weight. "What!? Get off, fool! I-"

"N-now!" Daisy barked, raising a leg. Kicked her hoof into the daemon's pilfered chest. "The neck!"

Golgatha's head turned, side-eyeing the replika man as he raised a device in his hand, wires writhing and probing of their own volition. "...eh!?"

Adler slammed the device against the back of the creature's neck. Tiny mechadendrites did the rest, seeking and burrowing into ports in the FLKR chassis.

"Gah!" the daemon gasped, as their entire body spasmed. Back arched, muscled contracted. Legs buckled, the figure sinking to their knees. Arms twitched. "Aaagh!"

The Ara fell from their grasp, as their whole body seized up. "Ngh!"

"We got her!" Adler cried, hooves touching the ground.

"...wh-...wh-ats...hap-pen-ning!?" Golgatha grunted, able to speak only through the daemonic flesh that slowly filled their chest cavity, supplying lungs and diaphragm. Their head tilted back, arms gone limp. The lights in artificial eyes went out. "I-I c-can't...seeeeee...can't...move! Can't...feel!" They vibrated in distress and outrage. "Th-this n-numbness...darkness-ss-ss...of-f-ffends S-Slaanesh! How!?"

"A special tool built by our own Diodana!" Adler cried, triumphant. "A way to disable the mechanical components of replika bodies! And here, I thought we were mad for keeping it aroun-. ACK!"

Pink hair, writhing angrily, lashed out and wrapped around Adler's neck. Around his waist.

"...ngh...thi-nk...you...'re cle-ver...hnn?" Golgatha growled, grunting through clenched teeth. Even now, their hair groped blindly at the back of their neck. "...I...'m...per-fect...won't...lose..."

Tink-k-k.

"...eh?" Golgatha grunted, furrowing their brow through blind eyes. "...wh-"

Hooves clacked on metal floor.

"Adler. Open her up."

Nodding, Adler struggled past grasping hair, before jamming his fingers into the maw atop the daemon's head. "Ngh...a little...help?"

"...wh-" Golgatha grunted. Their blind eyes widened as they felt a hoof slam onto the lip of the mouth atop their head. "Ngh!"

Pink hairs groped frantically at their neck.

Tiny glass fragments tinkled to the floor. A new set of fingers forced into the gap of the maw. Then, another hoof.

Two replikas grunted, as they used hands and hooves to wrench the maw open. The daemon felt the chill air on their gaping, empty brain-pan.

"...ngh..." Daisy grunted, gritting her teeth. "...I told you. If you want a brain..."

The daemon didn't need to see. The immortal being felt the loathsome object approach. The gaping void that promised obliteration. With the last of their panicking strength, they found the paralyzing device and ripped it from their neck.

"NGH!" Golgatha grunted, as digital noise dissipated, and they began to twitch to life again. Jaw unclenched, wrists popped audibly. Feeling slowly began to return.

Their eyes flared to life...just in time to see. They widened as far as they could go.

Daisy held the dripping FDMR brain aloft. Brain stem pointing down. "...I have it right HERE!"

"NNNOOOOOO!" the daemon screamed, as they felt the brain forcibly slot into their empty skull cavity with a sickening squelch.

"Ah!" Adler yelled, as he and Daisy were thrown back by a wild spasm and flailing of pink hair and FLKR limbs.

The replikas sat up, eyes fixed on what unfolded.

"AAAAAGH!" Golgatha shrieked, standing up and staggering about. Hands clawed at the top of their head, yet fingers could not go near the baleful brain. Nor could the animate locks of hair bend down to the gaping maw. Limbs rebelled against the very act of touching the hateful organ.

Seated within the very core of the unnatural amalgam of flesh, machine, and daemonic essence, the brain did its work.

Steam rose from the top of the writhing, shrieking creature's head, as the daemon's stolen hands clawed useless at the air around it.

"Get it out! GET IT OUT!" Golgatha screamed, immortal eyes alight with mortal terror. They turned and stumbled about, losing all control of their executive functions. Lilac skin contorted in pain and panic. "Slaanesh! Master! SAVE ME!"

They cried out, a mournful, pitiable whine. "Please...please! Dark Prince! This isn't a good pain! It just hurts! I can feel myself dying!"

The daemon sank to their knees, mouth opened wide. They shrieked. "AAAAAAAAAGH!"

"...by the...Omnissiah..." Daisy gasped, crawling away on the floor. Unable to tear her eyes away.

The shrieking continued, as pink hair withered and dissolved. Lilac skin melted off their face. The FLKR chassis's painted, titanium skull appeared beneath skin and muscle that ran like wax.

"AAAAAAAAAA-"

"It's...oh Great Revolutionary!" Adler gasped, ripping his eyes away at last.

Even as the scream died in the body's throat, Daisy clapped hands on her head. She heard the screams on the mental plane.

HELP ME! the daemon shrieked. Their thoughts distorting and tearing and burning. HEEELP MEEEEE-

As the last burst of multi-colored smoke erupted from the FLKR body, billowing up to the ceiling, the voice did not fade.

Instead, the two replikas looked up and saw an inhuman face form in the smoke. Contorted in terror and agony. Until flames consumed it, and it disappeared into nothing.

The soul of Golgatha L'seeth was not remanded to the abyss from whence it came. It was not banished to the Six Circles of Slaanesh's realm, to await punishment and eventual return.

The soul, such as it was, of Golgatha L'seeth was annihilated utterly. Sent howling to oblivion itself, never to return.

Golgatha L'seeth, the Beautiful Blasphemy, Herald of Slaanesh...was unmade.

"..."

Slowly, the two looked down at the FLKR body.

It settled to a position on its knees. Muscles locked by its final death throes, propping it up. Arms hung limp by its side.

All flesh stripped clean from the frame...save the warm, living brain nesting cozy in the skull.

"...is it...gone?" Adler whispered, looking back up at the space where they last spied the tortured daemon face. His entire body trembled.

"...I think so," the Ara said. She looked at the FLKR body. Spied the brain glistening in the overhead lights. "...Adler."

"...yes?" Adler said, almost starting at the sudden word. He looked at the Ara.

She slowly rose to her hooves. Walked gingerly over and held the rigid, listing FLKR body steady.

Daisy looked at the administrator, expression unreadable.

"Get a fresh container. This brain has more work to do."

Chapter 91: Going Deeper

"Check that door!"

Hooves against metal floor. Hands brushed away floating flowers. Water loosed from a suspended hydroponics station brushed a cheek, making black eyeshadow run.

"R-right!" Trisk said, ducking under a hydroponics station and calling over her shoulder. She slid to a stop in front of a door. Under her breath, she muttered, "please, please, not another mouth..."

In her peripheral vision, she saw Meryl fiddle with another door. Dented, cast-iron pan hung in one hand.

Breathing heavily, Trisk looked down either end of the corridor. Seeing nothing, she sucked one last breath, tapped the keypad, and raised her wood rolling pin. "Hhnn!"

Shing.

The Eule froze, as her eyes met a massive, black eye.

"TRISKCADEKAIPHILE!"

Shivers ran up her spine, as Trisk felt rats pour from the doorway. Fur brushed against her hooves.

The snouted, wrinkled face leaned toward the threshold, its many sweeping horns raking the roof of the room within. Green, glowing stones hung from the creature's neck, jingling with the motion. Somewhere inside, a long, naked tail cracked like a whip.

"...aaahh..." Trisk whimpered, color rushing from her face.

"YOU-YOU MAKE DEAL-PACT!" roared the Verminlord, stooped low so its face was level with the Eule. Single incisors chittered, spit flying from its mouth. "MAKE PACT, MACHINE-THING, NOW-NOW! SO MASTER CAN CROSS-VAULT THRESHOLD OF WORLDS, AND SPREAD-SPREAD RUIN TO NEW GALAXY! MUCH-MUCH POWER I OFFER, FOR THE GLORY-POWER OF THE KING OF LASHES! FOR THE HORNED RA-!"

Slam!

Black eyes widened. A clawed hand shot up, fingers outspread. "NO-NO, DON'T CLO-!"

Shing.

Pulling her fist from the keypad, Trisk turned around and slammed her back against the door. Arms pressed to the doorframes. "Nope! Nope! Nope!" she said, shaking her head. "Fuck that!"

"Dammit, these doors are all stuck!" Meryl growled, jogging over. "Any luck here?"

Trisk shook her head, lips pursed shut. "..."

"...are you okay, Trisk?" Meryl said, looking her junior up and down. "Did you see something?"

"Nope!" Trisk chimed, inclining her head back fractionally. "There's nothing in there!"

"Then shouldn't we try to hide inside?" Meryl said, eyebrows furrowing uneasily.

"No!" Trisk said, flinching. "Not a good idea!"

"..." Further questions sat on Meryl's tongue, before she flinched. Looked over her shoulder.

Down the corridor, the roar and chatter of daemons echoed. No sooner had the two replikas looked, that a band of infernal creatures rounded a corner.

"Blood for the Blood God!" yelled a Bloodletter, pushing away a Daemonette that clung to its arm and pointing a Hellblade.

"Shit!" Meryl barked, eyebrows shot up. "Nevermind!"

The two Eules bolted, hearts racing.

"Just fucking run!"

 

"SIT! STAY!"

Slobbering, panting face. A pounding fist, slamming into it over, and over, and over.

Jiggling bulk, rolled on the ground. Crashed into overturned shelves. Crushed rotting plants.

Jenny groaned, the Beast of Nurgle on top of her. Artificial muscles and titanium bones strained under the colossal girth. "Ngh!"

Once again, the Beast licked affectionately at her armaglass face window. Fogged her vision with brown streaks and warm condensation.

Holding it up with one hand, the Mynah pawed the ground desperately. Seeking what she spotted only seconds before in her peripheral vision.

"...come on...come on!" Jenny growled, one unpinned leg kneeing the Beast repeatedly, to little effect.

Finally, her hand closed around it. "There!"

She swiped wildly with the jagged length of torn sheet metal. It connected with the Beast's substantial belly and bit deep. Scored a wide, diagonal cut.

If it pained the daemon, it betrayed it not. The Beast panted, seemingly enjoying a deep belly rub.

"Now...get off!" Jenny yelled, pushing with all her might. Giant hands sank into rancid fat and boil-ridden skin, like they would huge pillows.

Seemingly more out of joy at the new game, the Beast flopped on its back. Head tendrils flailed excitedly, as the Mynah jumped on top of it.

With another stab and wrench, Jenny sliced perpendicular across the previous cut. Gouged a chasm in the flesh in the shape of an 'X'. Putrid gas vented to the air, and nauseating fluid sprayed over the Mynah.

"...and now..." Jenny seethed, raising her fist. With one swift motion, she plunged her entire arm into the gaping wound.

The Beast howled in joy, panting and wiggling at the tickle in its belly. In its chest.

It froze, as it felt the giant hand close over its heart.

"PLAY DEAD!" Jenny shouted.

Locking her jaw, she put all the strength in her arms, shoulders, back, and legs into pulling.

Veins popped and organ sacs ruptured. More gas pockets vented in filthy clouds.

In a single motion, her gory fist emerged from the bulk, clutching an organ the color of vomit and the size of a human head. It beat wildly, green blood spraying from severed valves, while taut veins trailed back into its chest.

"..." Jenny watched the heart beat for a few seconds, before closing her fist.

Squelch!

The Beast of Nurgle wailed, body shaking and trembling. Spittle flew from its mouth, as it released an animalistic cry.

"..." The Mynah rolled off, rising to her hooves and backing away. Watched the creature thrash and bawl and wallow in its death throes.

If she didn't know any better, she could swear it was almost disappointed. A child throwing a tantrum about its playtime coming to an end.

Then, it exploded in a shower of putrescent gore.

 

"...heh...nice. Take that, dumb dog. Anyway, you were about to sign?"

A quill with a colorful feather quivered excitedly in the Eule's hand. At her back, her sister trembled, clutching her shoulders.

"W-we can't!" Dorothy said, craning her neck back to eye the Horrors surrounding them. She flinched when a Pink played with her brown braids. "V-Van said not to! And you know what Mom will think!"

Alice swallowed, her own eyes darting at the panoply of Tzeentchian daemons crowding the reactor room. She looked down at the contract, proffered by a long tongue from a mouth in the wall. "...I..."

"Hey, come on, girls," Mik'hul said, voice bouncing between toothy maws at random. "The boss and your big sis will both understand. This isn't exactly the most ideal circumstances. You're in the Warp, and that means you need protection." His eyes darted around his kin. "Plus, these gentledaemons are all waiting patiently for you to get with the program. I can't keep them off you forever...unless the Big Man has you on his team."

"..." The Eules shrank in on each other, as the Horrors leaned in, expectantly. Almost daring them to refuse. Yellow and magenta and blue eyes alight with giddy, calculating mischief. Dorothy whimpered.

"Trust me, you get the power, the knowledge, and my 'associates' will stay off your back," Mik'hul winked. "The spawn of the other gods won't touch you either. Unlike Vashtorr and your mom, Tzeentch carries respect out here."

"N-no one will attack us, then?" Alice said, looking Mik'hul in the eyes. Mouth bent into a frown. "No one?"

"None. Absolutely no-"

Mik'hul froze. Myriad eyes widened. "...aw shit..."

"What?" Alice said, her quill half poised over the contract. She looked around. "What's...wrong...?"

Dorothy squeezed her sister's shoulders harder, looking around frantically. "Why are they...?"

A shudder ran through the fleshy walls, and out through the room.

The Horrors sensed it too. They shrank in fear, iridescent skin shivering. Blues gibbered in disquiet. Brimstones hopped from one fiery foot to another, grumbling and flaring. In anger or fear, the Eules knew not. The Pinks rose to their full height, fiddling anxiously with their weapons.

"...gd...dammit!" Mik'hul grumbled, shutting his eyes. "Put a pin in this discussion, girls." He looked toward the door. Pointed a tongue. "Boys. Handle this."

"..."

Reluctantly, the Horrors girded themselves physically and magically. A couple began muttering incantations under their breath. Fingers bent to arcane signs.

Shing.

Dorothy lifted a leg in fear, as she felt the heat of Brimstones darting around her hooves. "Ah! W-where are they going!? Aren't they supposed to...p-protect us..."

"..." Gritting her teeth, Alice watched the entire cadre of Horrors file out into the corridor, or into Medical. "...I think...they are..."

"You're right, honey," Mik'hul said, shivering. "The boss would kill me herself if I let anything happen on my watch. And Tzeentch can't let this kind of affront stand..."

"What affront?" Alice said, hand holding the quill dropping to her side. She leaned in. "What is it? What's coming?"

"...I...can't...say..." Mik'hul said, eyes looking away evasively.

"...something this deal of yours won't protect us from?" Alice said, frowning. "What in the Warp could be so terrible, it won't respect even your gods?"

She felt Dorothy shiver against her back, as the last of the (unmoored) daemons left. "..."

"...dammit..." Mik'hul grumbled under his breath.

In his mind's eye, Mik'hul sensed it coming. Sensed it step off the ladder, and call down the elevator.

The deer-skulled Claw of Malal stepped onto the platform. It was coming. And it radiated hate for any and all servants of Chaos, pacts be damned.

Boss...don't mean to rush you...but we have a situation topside...

 

"...dammit...can you handle it?"

Hooves clacked on metal steps. Bodies rushed down a stairwell at unsafe speeds. Save those who carried the tech priest between them.

I've got some 'associates' up here with us, Mik'hul thought, so we're not making it easy for him. But...this one's gonna be tough.

"Can. You. Handle it?" Elster grumbled, ignoring the odd looks from the crowd of her children who followed after.

Yes. Though...your pad is gonna get banged up a little.

"...understood."

Elster looked at the wall of the next landing. No door. The floor sign simply a string of nonsense letters and numbers. She growled. Leaned over the railing.

The stairwell kept going infinitely downward, just as it went infinitely upward. Another inescapable cage.

"...götterdämmerung..." she hissed through her teeth. Looked over and spied a vent. "...someone with the Noosphere, where are we with clearing the vent system?"

"...one moment..." Diodana said, her voice jittering as her carriers bounced down the stairs. Four photo-receptors looked away. "...ARAR-N0608 reports, and I quote, 'Working on it'."

"And Pet?" Double Tap huffed, coming down behind her. "Are they still safe?"

"Better yet, are they able to perform emergency translation?" Elster said, turning to pat Dash on the shoulder. The Star panted and leaned against the railing.

"Negative," Diodana said, shaking her head. "Reporting a large contingent of red daemon-forms guarding the engine room door. And SAPR-N0601 reluctant to lead a charge, without backup."

"Tch," Artemis grunted, resting a chainsword on her shoulder. "Daemon bastards. They don't want this party to end."

Elster narrowed her eyes. Turned toward the descending flight of stairs.

"...then we'll just have to clear the way. Let's keep moving."

 

"Get it open! Quick!"

An electric tool whirred to life. Screws spun. A body thrashed. Gasps, grunts, whines.

Outside, giant fist and shield cracked daemonic skulls.

Inside, a tech priest clutched her lover's hand.

"...ngh!" Sally whimpered, coughing another gout of blue blood. "...p-please...'t hurts!"

"We're almost there, Sally!" Myrtle whispered, squeezing the injured Eule's hand. Unable to help herself, the Ara's eyes studied the arcane whirls burned onto Sally's face.

"...and...done!" Heidi grunted, the last screw popping from its socket. Tossed the tool aside. "Help me get it off!"

With little effort, Myrtle and Heidi removed the chest plate with an audible 'pop'.

"..." Heidi froze, tool back in her hand. Eyes widened. "...oh Empress..."

"Shit..." Myrtle grunted, watching through swirled goggles. She looked up. "Give it to me."

"...wh-...what's...hck!" Sally coughed, hand caught by her senior Eule before it could grasp in pain at her exposed ribcage. "...wha...was' wrong? Gck..."

"Don't move," Heidi said, squeezing the girl's hand. "I-I know it's hard. Just...breath, okay?"

Another set of screws. One. Two.

Sweat poured down Myrtle's face.

Three...

"There!" Myrtle grunted, tossing the tool aside and pulling the steel ribs free.

Sally, frowning in pain, cracked her eyes open. Tried to crane her head forward to see. Another mouthful of blue blood dribbled down her chin. "...Myr-...tle? Gck..."

"...what...do we do?" Heidi whispered, covering her mouth. "It's..."

Other than the hole in her lung, Sally's organs didn't look damaged.

Just changed.

Smooth, pink fur growing on a kidney. Left lung - the damaged one - covered in whirling patterns of ridges and recessed grooves. Parts of the intestines sprouted feathers. Feathers and gestalt teeth.

Sally's eyes widened in horror. "...gck...wh-why...c'n I...hck...see?"

"..." Myrtle leaned forward, staring rapt. Her eyes meeting the organic, gestalt one sprouted on Sally's liver. It blinked incredulously at her.

A liver covered in curving horns. One of them, sharp and true, curved up and through the newly textured wall of Sally's left lung.

Blue blood (oxidizing fluid?) ran from the hole. Leaked into the lung, filling the sack as it inflated and deflated.

"...H-Hei...di..." Sally gulped, suppressing a coughing fit as she sucked shallow breaths. Her eyes - all of them - turned to the medic. "...p-please...hack!" She couldn't resist, chest convulsing violently. Blue fluid sprayed from her mouth, as the textured horn ground painfully against the ragged edge of her lung.

"S-sit still!" Heidi gasped, grabbing her sister's shoulder. "Breath! J-just..."

"What do we do?" Myrtle said, leaning into the medic's face. "Can you fix it?"

"Th-there's so much, Myrtle!" Heidi balked, leaning away. She gestured to the cavity. "I don't know where to sta-"

"We don't need to fix everything!" Myrtle said, expression stone-cold. "Can you fix her lung? That's the immediate problem!"

"I-I think so!" Heidi said, blinking, scrambling to her medical bag. "B-but I can't do anything, with that horn in the way."

"H-horn?" Sally gasped, eyes widening. She turned her head and coughed, eyes screwed shut. "Wh-...hck...what...horn?"

"..."

Myrtle pawed her tool belt, then rose to her hooves. "One second."

Heidi prepared a syringe of painkillers, eyeing the Ara dubiously from the corner of her eye. Winced at the sound of tools and parts crashing against one another on a shelf. "Wh-what are you-?"

"Found it!"

Myrtle stomped back over and sat down.

The eyes of the Eules widened.

"...eh?" Sally said. Her face lost all color (save the blue and magenta burns on her left side).

Myrtle held up the bolt cutters. "Will this work?"

Heidi blinked. "...I..."

"Fuck it, it'll have to," Myrtle said. She crouched over her girlfriend. "Sally, I'm sorry," she said, a degree of calm in her voice that even disturbed the Ara. "This might hurt."

"Hold on, let me inject first!" Heidi said, shooing the Ara aside. She traced her fingers over the disturbingly ridged lung. Found a vein with little difficulty. Pumped half the syringe's contents inside. There was no time for disinfectant.

"Ngh!" Sally flinched, her liver-eye dilating in fear as the needle drew within sight-range. She froze, shutting her mouth and not breathing as she felt the needle prick her liver at the base of the offending horn. As fluid pumped in, the liver-eye twitched, muscle spasms afflicting its red eyelid.

"If we could wait for it to take effect, we would," Heidi whispered, color draining from her face. "B-but we need that lung shut. Myrtle?"

Myrtle nodded. She plucked a leather glove from her tool belt and held it out. "Sally. Bite down on this, quick."

"...hck...ngh..." Sally whimpered, accepting the dirty glove reluctantly. Winced at the taste - grease and oil - heart racing.

"Just the one horn for now," Myrtle said, bolt cutters reaching down carefully. Heidi guided her in by hand. "And Sally?"

"Mmph?" Sally grunted, lips staining the gloves with saliva and blue oxident. Eyed her girlfriend fearfully.

"Sorry!" Myrtle said, forcing a frown. She didn't wait, before putting pressure on both long handles of the cutters.

Crack!

A tear ran from Sally's eye as she screamed into the glove.

 

"Grrragh!"

Hellblade tasted oxidizing fluid. Felt its heat, bathed in warm guts. Its owner hissed up in triumph.

"Blood!" the Bloodletter howled, spitting saliva in the Star's face. "Blood for Khorne!"

"C-can it, H-hässlich..." Kite hissed, gritting her teeth. Hands locked around the blade, putting all her strength in resisting its voracious, impaling force. Scarlet coated her fingers. She winced, feeling the sting through her oxident organ. "Ngh!"

"KITE!" Shock yelled from atop the overturned lounge sofa, where she grappled with a pink horror.

Behind her, Awe was similarly locked in furious melee with a Daemonette.

"Don'..." Kite gasped, as the Hellblade slide out with a sickening squelch. She grunted, doubling over, hands clutching her weeping stomach. More scarlet dripped down from an exit hole in her lower back. She gasped, eyes locked on the Bloodletter as it retreated. "...don't...worry about me..."

Scarlet stained the carpet, dripping from the Hellblade. The Bloodletter raised it and greedily lapped the precious fluid. "...hmmm..." it breathed, savoring the novel taste. Fiery coal eyes locked on the wounded Star.

"...g-give me a second, y-you scheisse..." Kite panted, crouching. She pawed weakly at the floor, scarlet-slick hand grasping her dropped stun prod. Color drained from her face, she stood back up.

Obligingly, the Bloodletter waited until Kite was ready, before raising its blade in a combat stance.

Considerate fucks, Kite thought, swaying as she raised her baton.

Shing.

"Kite!"

The Bloodletter's eyes widened, as light poured in from the hallway. Heard hoofsteps approach at speed.

With a growl in its throat, the daemon turned just in time to receive a cast-iron pan to the head.

Crack!

"M-Meryl!" Kite gasped, watching the crimson daemon fall.

The Eule panted, staggering back from a wild swing of the Hellblade. "Sh-shit!" Meryl grunted, raising her pan again. Eyes locked on the thrashing, disoriented daemon at her hooves.

Behind her, Trisk hastily shut the door, back to the wall. "Hurry! More are behind us!"

"There's more in here!" Awe yelled, kicking the panting Daemonette back with a hoof to the chest. A bandana of torn cloth wrapped around the Star's head, covering the upper half of her face. Hands on the barrel, Awe swung her lasgun like a bat to maintain distance.

"Yeah!" Shock grunted, punching the Horror repeatedly in the eyes and jaw. Rolled atop it. "Give us a hand!" The daemon's third arm closed around the Star's face. "Gah! Not you!"

"R-right!" Trisk said, looking back and forth between the junior Stars. Making her choice, the Eule raised her wooden rolling pin and charged the Daemonette.

"Don't let it...get up!" Kite gasped, stepping forward. Thumbed the stun baton to life.

"Okay!" Meryl barked, bringing her pan down on the Hellblade as it swung out again.

"Grah!" the Bloodletter grunted, nearly losing its grip on the sword. It hastily put its clawed feet under it.

Zap!

The Bloodletter jumped, electricity running through its spasming muscles from the stun prod. "...gaaagh!" it groaned, Hellblade falling from its grasp. It flopped to the carpet again, rolling on its side. "...c-cow...ards..."

"Hah!" Meryl said, kicking the blade away. She stomped the daemon's twitching hand. "Now Kite!"

Panting, Kite sank to her knees, prod cast aside. She seized one of the daemon's upturned horns, and drew her talon-knife. "Enough...out of you!"

The Bloodletter's fiery eyes widened in shock, as the impossibly sharp talon raked across its neck from ear to ear. "...caaaagh!"

Boiling blood vented across the floor, sizzling and smoking.

"Shit!" Meryl barked, side-stepping the scalding spray.

"Gah!" Kite groaned, rolling over on her side. Side-eyed the Bloodletter as it clawed at its weeping neck. The Star clutched her stomach, panting heavily. "...fuckin'...die already...you shit." She hissed, wincing. "Fuck."

"Kite!" Meryl gasped, running around the dying daemon. She sank to her knees, dropping her pan. "Are you okay?"

"No," Kite groaned, swallowing hard. "Ow..."

Crack!

Across the lounge, Trisk succeeded in staggering the Daemonette from behind, rolling pin spotted with flecks of scarlet. Awe, seeing an opening, tackled the creature to ground.

"You need a medic!" Meryl said, pulling Kite's hands away briefly to study the wound. She blanched, pressing them back on. "You're bleeding too damn much!"

"M-medical spray will be enough," Kite gasped, rolling over at Meryl's urging. Felt her put pressure on her lower back. "C-can't...go looking for the others now..."

"Shut up!" Meryl said, sweating. "Save your strength! We'll get you..."

Crash!

"Fuck!" Shock barked, rolling off the couch and into the wall. She sat awkwardly up, hand pressed against the metal shutters closed over the lounge's observation window.

The Pink Horror stood atop the couch, raising a hand. Fire lit up on its outstretched index and pinkie fingers. "Hah hah hah hah hah!"

"Shock!" Kite gasped, trying to rise.

"No!" Meryl cried, covering her mouth.

Shock, eyes widened as the Horror began to summon flame, threw an arm over her face.

A chill wind blew. The soft flutter of fabric.

ZAP.

"Gah!" the Pink Horror gasped, looking up in pain and alarm. Yellow eyes widened, blue tongue lolled stupidly.

Ice and frost caked its hand, spreading down its arm like a winter infection.

"...eh?" Shock said, peeking over her arm.

Kite and Meryl didn't look at the daemon. Their eyes locked on the shape rising up through the floor.

"Nnngh!" the Pink Horror grumbled, shivering. It wheeled around.

Saw the ethereal laspistol pointing mere centimeters from its face.

ZAP.

Instead of scarlet, the beam bathed the room a cold blue-white. Wind whipped out from the bolt, as it phased through the daemon's body.

It left a trail of snowflakes in the air along its path, that sparkled in the light.

"..."

The Pink Horror silently sucked air, before it froze. Bright body turned purple, as frost swept across its skin. A rime-wave that locked it in place, and encased it in ice.

The assembled replikas gaped, as the precariously balanced daemon of Tzeentch pitched backward to the floor in front of Shock. She flinched, as it shattered into a million pieces.

"...holy shit..." Shock whispered, eyes locked on the icy chunks around her. A hoof kicked a fragment away. The Star looked up.

The figure kept rising. Hovered midair, hooves centimeters above the floor. Transparent hand clutched transparent laspistol.

"...you..." Meryl breathed, eyes widening. Scarlet-slick hand hovering over her mouth. "...it can't be..."

"Awe," said the figure, voice hollow and tired. "Give me a clear shot."

The laspistol swept to the side. The apparition aimed again.

Awe, looking over in surprise from where she and Trisk wrestled the Daemonette against a wall, shot to attention. She pulled the Eule's rolling pin back from where it pressed against the creature's throat. "Push!" she barked.

"Ngh!" the Daemonette cried, as the two replikas kicked it out into the middle of the room. It looked around wildly, staggering, before spying the shade. "...ah..." it gasped, making to move.

ZAP.

Another blue-white bolt. Another flurry of snowflakes. The Daemonette dodged a heartbeat too slow.

Instead, its heart stopped. Frozen solid in its chest, as rime-frost spread across its lilac skin. Black eyes glazed over with ice, and waving pink hair crawled to a stop.

Already in motion, it toppled to the ground and broke in half. Fractures formed in flesh and ice. Torso broke off from lower body, arms and legs snapped. Head bounced and rolled across carpet, before coming to rest against an overturned chair.

"...I...don't believe it," Kite breathed, her entire body shaking. She looked up, mouth agape. No more thought given to the pain in her stomach.

The shade raised the laspistol. A trail of chilled mist from the end, like gunsmoke. Cold wind blew through the tatters of her hopes and dreams.

"...Hip!?"

The Storch blew vapor away from her laspistol. Turned her head. Eyes obscured by shadows beneath her hair.

Hippolyta smiled. "...you okay, Kite?"

"...Hip..." Kite breathed, trembling.

"Hip!" Awe yelled, trying to navigate the frozen daemon-chunks at her hooves.

"You're...here!" Shock gasped, supporting herself against the shutter as she staggered up.

"Hippolyta!" Meryl cried, covering her mouth. "Is it...really you?" Tears formed in her eyes.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The assembled replikas flinched.

Outside, voices and scrambling claws. Cackling, chittering, growling.

Slowly, taloned hands fumbled at the door panel outside.

The shade sighed. "...more distractions...hold on..."

Hippolyta lowered her laspistol.

Shing.

"Shit!" Awe cried, as they all watched an entire group of daemons appear behind the sliding door. Their eyes alight with unearthly hungers.

"Hip!" Meryl cried, crawling back.

Another cold wind blew. The tatters flew to the side. Ethereal arm rose.

Hippolyta brandished a transparent grenade launcher. Barely aimed it.

Shunk.

Snowflakes trailed off the arcing explosive. It sailed across the room and through the doorway.

Infernal eyes traced the grenade's path. Daemons craned their necks, as it sailed over the head of a Blue Horror. Perhaps a trick of perception, but in that moment, it seemed to hover over it, amidst them.

BOOM!

The replikas flinched, ducking down as a burst of cold air and snowflakes burst in the hallway and into the room. Washed over them, rime settling on their cheeks and hair.

Tatters of the shade's hopes and dreams billowed violently behind her, before settling again.

"..."

They all looked over, beholding the horrified daemons, frozen at the moment of detonation.

One by one, cracks audibly formed in their bodies. One by one, statues broke and shattered to pieces. The corridor and entryway littered with iced remains of infernal powers.

"...now then..." Hippolyta said, breaking the silence. She looked down. "Meryl."

"Eh!?" the Eule squeaked, flinching. "Y-yes?"

"Look after Kite, okay?" Hippolyta said. "Look after all of them. I don't want to meet them so soon on the other side."

"Uh...okay!?" Meryl said, dumbfounded. Eyebrow cocked.

"Good," Hippolyta said. "Because I can't stay."

"N-no! Hip!" Kite gasped, sitting up with difficulty. "You can't...leave! You just came back!"

"I know, Kite," Hippolyta said, nodding. "But I don't have time."

They watched the Storch rise. Face turned to the ceiling, preparing to phase through.

"My daughter needs me."

 

"...tch...I hoped you wouldn't show up..."

Censor hung on a gently swinging chain. A sea of stars inhaled the trail of incense smoke. Guzzled it, drew it back into the void. The censor's bearer craned her neck, dwarfed by floating monoliths hanging in front of the starscape.

Hooves clacked on a metal platform, its ragged edges showing a sheer drop into nothing. One floating island in a vast archipelago that surrounded a shining star. Across the brobdingnagian expanse, a colossal statue of the Grand Empress floated, inverted, broken in three pieces.

"...ngh...Circe!" Trinity cried over the howling wind. Arms clutched a chunk of debris suspended off to the side. Hooves kicked a Blue Horror clinging to her leg. With one last strike, the auburn-haired Eule sent the Horror careening wildly off into the void. "Circe, you need to do something! It's..."

"I know," Circe said, stepping to the edge of the platform attached to the open door set in pure space. The light of the corridors outside backlit her and her daughters. She narrowed her eyes, and looked up.

Around which the entire pocket universe seemed to revolve, the young Kolibri's body twisted. Arched her back painfully, audibly.

Tears ran up her face. Horns jutted and curved, as glowing Tzeentchian runes crawled across the surface of her body.

"...m-mommy...mommy!" Hecate cried, hugging herself. Auburn hair writhing invisibly with power. "Help me! It's...it's inside me! M-make it go away..."

"Hecate!" Isis cried, stepping forward. Sweat broke out on her brow. She halted, as Circe held out an arm.

Hecate's face contorted into a grotesque, malicious grin. "Your mommy can't help you! She's powerless!" cried the daemon, its voice low and gravely in her throat. Backed be echo and reverb. "Your body is mine! Once bonded, this possession is permanent! Nothing can separate us now!"

"You lie!" Circe boomed, her voice echoing across the expanse. It vibrated in her throat, resonating with the materials all around them. "Get out of her now! Or I'll make you leave!"

Floating upside down, from their perspective, Hecate's body spun to face the other Kolibris. It twitched, left hand reaching up and grabbing its horn.

"...let...me...go!" Hecate grumbled, yanking her head to the side. "Ngh!"

She shuddered, and the malicious smile returned. The daemon regained control, for the moment.

It sneered, the baleful, foreign intelligence regarding the girl's circle with relish. Chewed the claws grown from its stolen fingers.

"Unless you would rather treat with the Architect of Fate," the daemon spat, grinning with too many razor sharp teeth, "put your money where you mouth is...little witch!"

Circe gritted her teeth.

Her daughters swallowed, and readied their ritual implements. Hardened their resolve. Around them, the air rang with a whine that transcended the tone of the bell. It vibrated on many planes of reality at once. Their hair billowed and flared.

Their mother glared at the invader holding her baby hostage.

"...we fucking will."

Chapter 92: They're Trinity Acts, A Mineral Fire

"...Ro...se..."

Air choked with green mist. Water vented from broken pipes. Wet, wretched coughs.

One Ara held the other's hand, in spite of the mounting arthritic pain in her digits.

"Don't talk," Rose sniffled, rubbing a stream of snot from her nose. Her heart raced. She took ragged breaths through her mouth. "Save your strength...hah...hah...we'll get through this..."

Weakly, Chicory shook her head. "...no..." she breathed. Her eyes dim, unfocused. She could barely see. "...Ro...se...don...'t...for...get...me..."

A knot formed in her senior's throat. They both knew what was coming. "...I won't. Promise."

"...tell...Tu...lip...I...was right..." Chicory shut her eyes, free hand clutching her chest. A trickle of yellow liquid dripped from her mouth. "...don...'t...trust...Mom..." she gasped, squeezing Rose's hand with what little strength she had left. "...hell...this...mis...ion...is hell...get...aw..ay..."

A spasm in her chest. Chicory arched her back. Then collapsed.

Rose's eyebrows climbed, as she felt her young sister's hand slacken.

"...Chicory..." Rose whispered. She shook the girl's shoulder. "Chicory? Wake up. Wake up!"

Two fingers pressed to the neck. There was no pulse.

"..."

Not for the first time, an Ara badly wished she could cry when it was appropriate.

Instead, she leaned over and kissed her sister's cheek. Then pressed their foreheads together. Long, red hair hanged down, gently brushing the girl's shoulders.

Boooorp.

"..."

Inhaling through her teeth, Rose sat up. Slowly turned her head.

"...gack...ngh...crch..."

Rising from its heap of foul fluids, the Sloppity Bilepiper staggered back and forth. Bones popped and cracked audibly. Stomach grumbled, and mouth belched with each exertion. It fumbled on the ground for its baton. Organ bagpipe tucked under one arm.

The Ara put her hooves under her.

Clack. Clack. Clack-clack-clack.

A Plaguebearer writhed on the ground. "...ooooh..." it groaned, a broken-toothed grin breaking out on its face. "...ah...ah...hck!"

Crack!

The daemon collapsed, skull caved in. A gore-spattered wrench slipped from arthritic fingers and banged loudly on the metal floor.

"Ack!" the Bilepiper squawked, turning toward the sound. Its single, bloodshot eye widened.

It met the shadowed eyes of the Ara.

Clack-clack-clack.

"Oh-ho-ho!" the daemon hiccuped, stumbling back a step. It fumbled with its pipes. "W-wanna dance, cutie? I've got just the diddy for times like this. I-"

The flash of a utility knife, plunged into the inflated organ.

Broooo...rrr....ooo...

The daemon's eye shot down, watching with shock as its instrument deflated with a whistle. One final fart signaled the end of the performance.

"..." The daemon shivered, then looked up.

Through a tangle of red hair, Rose gazed down into the daemon's single eye with cold, murderous fury.

Before words could escape the Bilepiper's chapped, discolored lips, her mechadendrites shot out. Wrapped around its arms and legs.

"Ah!" it squawked. "N-now wait a mi-"

Rose plunged the knife into the daemon's neck. Green blood spattered on her face. Her skin broke out into a rash at the touch. She didn't care.

"Gck! Merk...!" the Bilepiper gurgled. Then, it felt its legs whipped out from under it. "GAH!"

It slammed on the ground, and Rose landed on top of it. It puked up a gout of fluid, as her knees pressed down on its stomach and chest. "...blerg! Ack!"

The Ara pulled a set of pruning shears from her belt and held them over her head.

"...for Chicory..." she rasped, fighting through the pain in her fingers.

"N-no, NO!" the Bilepiper cried, struggling.

Nurgle daemons do not fear pain. Plentiful are the Rotfather's gifts, among them a soporific numbness against their profane nature. But as beings of life incarnate - in all its fetid, fecund glory - they could not fully shake the fear of death.

Especially not as it saw the shears stab down toward its eye.

Squelch!

"AAAAAAGH!"

 

Bump. Bump. Crash.

Vapor issued steadily from mouths formed in the walls. Belched into the corridor, like foul incense.

"Mrrow!"

A cat slipped out of the opened vent. Its head darted either direction, back arched warily.

"...ngh!"

With difficulty, one Ara slipped out from the vent. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out another by the shoulders.

"Hah...hah...hah..."

Rue panted, wiping her brow with the back of her arm. Mouth covered in a makeshift mask of torn, navy blue cloth. Her fingers traced the pox broken out on her face. "..."

After Elster's daemon declared the Nomarch free of Nurgle daemons, though not the taint of disease, she heard precious little else from him.

"...ngh..." Violet groaned, coughing softly. Her face a sickly shade of green. "...Rue...the infection..."

"..." Rue swallowed. Switched to the Noosphere again. "[You need medicine. We find Heidi.]"

"...what about...hck...Rose?" Violet coughed. But as her sister dragged her to a sitting position against her body, the Ara fell silent. "..."

They both had the Noosphere report. "[Maintain quarantine. Don't unseal Hydroponics.]"

"Mrrow!"

Rue flinched, looking over her shoulder. Saw the cat growling and hissing, its hackles up.

A bead of cold sweat broke out on her face. Head turned. She widened her eyes.

The scratch of claws on metal. The huff of strong lungs. The growl of a great beast.

"Woooo!"

"Hssss!" The cat jumped back and hid around the sitting Aras, as a quadrupedal silhouette darted around the corner.

"Rrrrrrr...RAFF!" barked the Flesh Hound, neck frills flapping in a threat display. Its teeth dripping with fresh scarlet.

Was it oxidizing fluid? Or the blood of another daemon? The beast sported several scratches and claw marks across its back, legs, and flanks. Recent combat. Against what or whom?

"..." Rue swallowed, and held up her wrench. At her side, Violet pawed at her belt for a welding torch.

Step-step-step-step-step.

The Fleshhound, ready to pounce, looked suddenly behind it, and growled. "Rrrragh!"

It barely had time to rear up, before a long, curved blade speared it through the ribs and out its back.

The Fleshhound whimpered sharply like a struck dog.

Galvanized by fear, Rue scrambled to her hooves and tucked her hands under Violet's armpits. "...ngh!" she grunted, trying to drag her sister away.

The two hulking forms struggled in the mist. Barking, shrieking, clawing, and swiping with long hooks.

"...n-need to go...hck..." Violet coughed, struggling to get her hooves under her.

Huffing, Rue handed her sister the modified flame-sprayer, and focused on dragging. "[Someone. Anyone. Two beasts...we don't know where. Misty corridor. Can't see. Too close. Can't run. Help.]"

"YIIIP!"

After several tense seconds, the Flesh Hound squealed, and flopped to the ground. Black smoke issued from its wounds. Struggled to rise. Went limp.

Slowly, silently, the other shape stalked from the mist.

Mouths lining the walls shut spontaneously as it passed. The mist thinned fractionally. Rue and Violet saw its silhouette.

Hunched. Emaciated. Spiked, spinal arch visible on its back. Its head, a bird's skull, beak filled with incongruous teeth, bone white. Two legs, hooved. Two chitinous arms, ending it long, terrible hooks.

The Hook Horror regarded the Aras through hollow eyesockets. Pinpricks of pale light stared at them. Lonely, malicious survivors of a holocaust of stars. Desirous of nothing, save their deaths.

"...hck...faster..." Violet coughed, hooves scrambling frantically against the floor. Hands fumbled with the sprayer's ad hoc system of knobs and pilot lights.

"..." Rue swallowed.

They couldn't outrun the monster.

Well, Violet couldn't. Rue could probably get away, if she left her sister behind.

Rue forced the vile thought down. Instead came to a stop, and stepped in front of Violet. Wrench ready. "..."

The Hook Horror screeched, scrambling across the floor with silent footfalls.

"Aaaagh!" Violet cried, raising the sprayer impotently.

Rue braced herself.

Stomp-Stomp-Stomp-Stomp-Stomp.

"Out of the way!"

Rue, hearing heavy hoof-falls and seeing the walls around her bathed in blue, threw herself to the ground on top of Violet. She felt the ground shake as a huge bulk passed by. Smelled the ozone wafting off the glowing axe.

"SCREEE-!"

Shing!

"..." Rue raised her head, eyes widening.

"...gck!" Bertha grunted, pulling Jenny's Power Axe up. The giant pushed the now decapitated Hook Horror back, its right hook sliding out of a gap in her armor plates. It left a hole through both stomach and back, which belched black smoke. "...d-dammit..."

As the axe powered down, and the daemon's corpse and head fell to the ground in a heap, Bertha took a knee. Large hand clutching her stomach.

"Bertha!"

Rue and Violet looked over their shoulders. Spying two more figures rushing out of the mist behind them.

"...V-Vanessa?" Violet said, weakly. Improvised flame weapon dropping to her side. She coughed, covering her mouth.

"Rue! Violet!" Vanessa said, rushing up to them. "Are you alri-?"

Rue held up a hand. Pointed at her face. Shook her head. "..."

"Ah!" Vanessa said, covering her mouth. "Your face!"

"Shit..." Samantha said, giving the Aras a wide berth. "You girls don't look so good."

"...s-stay back..." Violet said, coughing. "Don't...catch it..."

"You...uninjured?" Bertha groaned, supporting herself on the axe handle. She couldn't turn her head, so she waved a free hand at the Aras. Black smoke continued to issue from her wounds.

"Y-yes..." Violet said. Her eyes widened. "...Bertha?"

Vanessa looked at the Schnapper. "Bertha, are you okay?"

"I'm fine...fine..." Bertha said, panting. Pressed her hand to her stomach again. Smoke slipped through giant fingers. She leaned forward, voice grown hoarse. "...I just...I feel...n-numb, inside..."

"...Bertha?" Samantha said, holding out a hand.

"..." Rue watched the Schnapper with mounting concern. Furrowed her brow.

"...I..." Bertha burped. With a mental impulse, she popped her face plate up. "...fffuuuuu-"

Black smoke erupted from the helmet as it opened. The giant groaned loudly, and fell sideways.

Slam!

"BERTHA!" Vanessa yelled, covering her mouth. Felt the vibrations through the floor in their hooves. She and Samantha rushed forward.

"Hah...aaahh..." Bertha gasped, more and more smoke issuing from her body. "...t-tell...Jenny..." She rolled on her back, letting the power axe drop from her hand. "...her axe...girls..."

Unable to finish the sentence, the Schnapper's limbs went limp, as a furious burst of smoke erupted from her helmet.

The other replikas watched in horror as Bertha's fingers twitched, and she exhaled her last.

"...Bertha...?" Samantha whispered, tentatively.

Slowly, the Eules crept forward. In horror, they saw the flesh on Bertha's face dissolve into smoke. Leaving only a painted replika skull grinning sadly in its cradle.

"Noooo!" Vanessa whined, shrinking back. Face contorted in horror. "Bertha!"

"..." Samantha staggered into the nearby wall, speechless. All color drawn from her face. Pressed both hands to her chest.

Rue and Violet watched, stunned. Not knowing the full horror of what was done, but knowing without doubt it spelled the Schnapper's end. "..."

So transfixed, they failed to notice the other daemon's approach. Not that they would have heard its silent hoof-falls regardless.

"Mrrow!" hissed the cat, darting past the Aras, as the horned shadow fell over them.

Filthy fingernails dug into their cheeks from behind. Tinged through their scant human skin. They whirled around in alarm, as dark hands pulled away. Their bodies wracked with a cold numbness.

"AH!" Vanessa screamed, looking back at them. "Another one!"

The Claw of Malal stood perfectly still. Exuded an aura of pure menace.

"Ah!" Violet doubled over and rolled on her side. Began violently coughing. Black smoke issued from mouth and nose.

Rue sank to her sister's side, brandishing her wrench with one hand. One eye clasped shut, as she panted and trembled from the crackle of numbness running across her skin. She saw smoke on her face, racing from her pores. Free hand rose, feeling clammy cheek. Her pox disappeared, leaving only empty pockmarks behind. She glanced down at Violet, the green color vanishing from her skin.

"..." Rue looked at the daemon, as it silently picked up its saber and mace, and took one last look at the replikas.

"...we shall deny Nurgle their flesh to fester and rot..." it breathed, regarding them all with white pinpricks of light.

Then, it turned, stalking into the mist. As its ram skull faded away, the Claw of Malal raised its voice.

"...death to the dark gods! For the Renegade God!"

 

"Gonna be real, girls. If it gets to the door..."

Penrose 313 rocked and rumbled. Shouts, roars, incantations sounded through the walls. Bangs, crashes, snaps, slams. Cracks of lightning and daemonic bones. Howls of wind and rage and pain.

The Eules hugged one another, trembling. Flinching with each unnatural sound. "..."

"...if it gets here, it'll probably come through the hallway," Mik'hul continued, yellow eyes darting toward the corridor door. "If that happens, go through Medical. You run, and you don't stop running for anything. Get me?"

"I-is it going to chase us?" Dorothy breathed, voice cracking. Eyes darting to the doorway. The sudden silence almost more disquieting than the clamor.

"Heh heh, naw. It wants ME, not you," Mik'hul chuckled. His mouths frowned. "But trust me, you don't want to be here if it punches a hole through me and into this reactor. If I don't die, permanent-like, the boss will kill me over irradiating her kids..."

"EEEEEEE!"

Replikas flinched. The screech through the walls died with a muffled gurgle.

Alice gulped, nodding. "R-right."

Muffled by metal, the Claw's voice range out.

"Come! My maces thirst for you all!"

 

I fucking hate the Warp!

An infinite, dark sea. Clouds of bubbles. Burning lungs.

A fist slammed into a daemonic shark's face, over and over and over.

Fingers jammed into a wide mouth. Artificial muscles strained against crushing bite force.

Breach, chest aching, seized a drowning Blue Horror by the leg, and slammed it against the shark's pointed snout. Kicked its gills. Struggled against the teeth piercing her arm.

Ishtar twisted, slipping her other hand in the beast's lips. Raised a leg, and jammed it into the shark's eye.

A shudder ran through the beast's entire body. In the moment it loosened its grip, Ishtar wrenched its maw open.

Pulling her arm free, the Star swam over and seized the Horror's discarded, silver dagger before it could sink beyond reach. She whirled around, and plunged it into the shark's other eye.

Star and Storch watched as the injured beast thrashed wildly in pain. It twisted, swimming rapidly away into the dark. Tail disappeared in the gloom.

Breach, struggling not to open her aching lungs to the water, looked down. She grabbed Ishtar's arm and pointed down.

Ishtar looked, and nodded.

The two, desperate for air and for want of better direction, swam down into the glowing blue light.

 

"Hecate! We're coming!"

The cosmic expanse rang with the ding of a bell, and the roar of telepathic flame.

Hooves clacked on chunks of metal platforms and stone stairs, islands summoned from the void at mental command.

For each such island brought forth to propel their ascent, another ripped from its moorings and thrown their way.

"Back! Back!" the daemon puppeting Hecate's body cried, hands reaching out and clawing the air. Telekinetic force tossed chunks of cosmic debris at his interlocutors. "She's mine! MINE! I won't share!"

"Watch out!" Nimue gasped, diving sideways to avoid a missile as tall as herself. It shattered against the tip of her island, sending her sprawling and sailing out into the void. "Shit!"

"Nimue!" Sharazad called, continuing to run up.

"I've got her!" Trinity called, pushing off from her chunk of debris and grabbing the youngest Kolibri's arm. They spun together, until they grabbed hold of an errant, floating pew.

"Get them! Now!" cried the daemonhost, pointing at the advancing Kolibri.

From the dark beyond the stars, blue, spiked mantas flew in on aethereal winds. The Screamers wailed, myriad yellow eyes fixed on their mortal prey.

"Brace yourselves!" Circe yelled, hopping between islands and readying her tome. Incantations vibrated in her throat, as the flying daemons wheeled around.

"VERSCHWINDE!"

With a thrusting palm, the eldest Kolibri banished the Screamer. Remanded to the Crystal Labyrinth in a wave of blue smoke, it keened its lament all the way there.

Another swept past, veering to the side.

"HAH!" Isis grunted, swinging her ritual stave with a dodging twirl. Three electrum stars scraped the Screamer's back, tearing it in a shower of smoke. It careened off, locked in futile struggle against abjuration that banished it.

A third swept toward Shahrazad, but turned away in pain as her bell tolled. The tone ringing in its ears, rippling visibly in the air.

"You!" the invader barked, pointing to a trio of Blue Horrors stranded in mid-air. He redirected more Screamers to them. "Get to work! Change them into corpses!"

The Horrors grabbed their rides, climbing onto their backs.

With a flick of Hecate's hijacked wrists, one Screamer bubbled and twisted. Contorting beneath the Horror's feet, until it morphed painfully and unwillingly into a Disc of Tzeentch. The Horror happily directed it, flying quickly toward Nimue and Trinity.

A second Horror was proffered a similar mode of conveyance. It locked toward the advancing group, firing warpflame bolts from its fingers.

The daemonhost made to change the third Screamer, only to shudder, wrist and fingers twisting incorrectly. "Gah! What!?"

Instead of forming a Disc, the Screamer contorted into a writhing mass of tentacles, and enveloped the confused Horror. The two daemons tumbled wildly, before shrinking in on themselves and popping back to the Crystal Labyrinth with a sickening crunch and a flash of magenta light.

"No! S-stop that!" seethed the invader, back arching and face twitching. A hand grabbed their horn and yanked again.

"G-get out..." Hecate growled, gritting her teeth. "Get out! Get out of my head! I don't want you here!"

"I won't, you stupid girl!" the daemon sputtered. He batted her hand away, only for her to reach around and slap their face. "Ow! Quit it! Stop!"

Nimue fended off the Horror on Disc for a moment with a swinging cloud of incense. Trinity, walking tentatively on the underside of the pew, grabbed an errant stone and threw it at the Horror's head.

Struck in the eye, the Horror whirled around. Rubbed its face blindly, wincing.

With another swing, Nimue coiled her chain around the Horror's arm and yanked Disc and rider in.

"Hoop!" Trinity grunted, grabbing the Disc's horns and crawling on. Raising a fist, she punched the Horror in one of its many other eyes. "Nim, now!"

The Kolibri jumped onto the Disc as well, looping the chain around the Horror. As it struggled, arms pinned, she grasped the back of its head, tendrils wrapping around her wrist, and concentrated.

"GEH! FLIEG! SCHNELL!" Nimue commanded, projecting directly into the daemon's mind. Blond hair writhed invisibly with power.

Black dots formed in the Blue Horror's magenta eyes, and then dilated to fill almost the whole orbs. Unable to stop itself, the bound daemon turned the Disc, and began flying.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Shahrazad's bell tolled in the mind of the oncoming Horror on Disc. It gripped its head, veering off course.

"Grah!" Isis growled, smacking the Disc out from under the Horror. It dissolved into a shower of smoke.

"VERSCHWINDE!" Circe vibrated, casting the prone Horror out. She kept running, extending a hand.

Before them, a solid stairway formed, of metal and stone. Rising up to where the daemonhost struggled.

"Dammit! Stop! I'm in control here!" the invader barked, fingernails digging into Hecate's scalp. The hands snapped onto her horns and forced her head down. "Gah! Y-you can't...do this to me! Don't you know...who I am!?" He took control of a hand to pull off the other, only for the first to slip control and poke them in the eyes. "Ow! I...I am a Herald of Tzeentch!"

"I. Don't. Give a fuck!" Hecate growled, blinking. Slapped herself, then bit her hand. Her body tumbled backward in place, as the hand wrapped around her throat. "Mom! Everyone! Get over here!"

The Herald righted himself, and widened their bleary eyes. Watched the Kolibris approach by hoof or by Disc. "N-no! Get away! Get..."

He curled into a ball, then spread out in a burst of magical force. "AWAY!"

The landscape exploded, as an iridescent wall struck the group and sent them flying.

"AAAAAGH!" the replikas screamed. Arms flailed. Even the Blue Horror and Disc went flying, splattering inelegantly into a chunk of loose debris.

By the time they landed on islands of metal, they looked up to find they'd lost all progress. The daemonhost, panting, loomed in the distance. Haloed by a rainbow of arcane light. Their stairway smashed to debris, an asteroid belt circling the center of the Herald's personal cosmos.

"You...y-you see?" the daemonhost panted, light in the Kolibri's eyes flickering as his power fluctuated. "Give up...you can't win!"

"No!" Circe growled, rising to her hooves. Her tome fluttered open by telekinetic force as she raised it. "You're not getting away! Circle, to me!"

Trinity crawled off to the side, watching the Kolibris assemble to either side of their mother. Ritual items at the ready.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

With each toll of Shahrazad's bell, the noise rang louder.

With each swing of Nimue's censor, the incense clouds grew thicker.

With each planting of Isis's stave in the metal floor, the three electrum stars at the top glinted brighter in the cosmic light.

They intoned together. Their hands reached out, fingers forming arcane gestures.

"Gck! Ack! What!?" the daemon gasped, his stolen hands jerking up. Despite himself, the Herald lost control.

Hecate signed along with her family. The daemon's voice drowned out, as her throat vibrated chant in time with them.

The stars around them twinkled. Brightened. Vibrated with their voices.

The Grand Empress's statue vibrated, a clear tone issuing from stony mouth. Shrouded eyes glowed, until they shone like suns.

Snapping the tome shut, Circe spread her arms wide.

CLAP!

As she clapped her free hand against the cover of the tome, the entire world collapsed around them. Stars disappeared in an instant, and metal walls snapped together seamlessly.

The colossal statue of the Grand Empress shrank, its disparate pieces mending into one, as if it were never broken. It settled on the altar rightside up, before which a dozen whole or damaged pews landed with a clatter.

"...fuck..." Trinity breathed, uncovering her head. She looked around frantically, and up to the panting Kolibris stood triumphant before her.

"Aaaagh!" the daemonhost gasped, sinking to the floor and covering Hecate's head. He looked up, trembling. Panting. Eye-glows feeble like guttering candles. "N-no! NO! This can't be happening! You're just children! How can you do this!?"

"Get her!" Circe barked, running forward, her daughters at her hooves. "Don't let it escape!"

"Stop! Get back!" the Herald gasped, floating off the ground again. Sweat pouring down Hecate's face, he backed up and away fearfully. "I won't let you! I am Atavast the Lunarch! You won't deny me my prize! I'll-"

"You're not going anywhere!"

The daemonhost choked, a phantom arm encircling Hecate's neck and catching them in a headlock. "Ack! What!? Wh-who!?" Atavast twisted in the grasp, trying to look up.

"HIPPOLYTA!" Circe cried, heart leaping. Eyes brightening.

Tatters of her hopes and dreams flapping in ethereal wind, the shade smiled.

"Miss me, beautiful?" Hippolyta said, arm holding her step-daughter fast. Not enough to cut off air, but impossible to break out of.

"Mom!" Isis cried, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Y-you're here!"

"Good to see you, kid," the shade said.

Hecate started to chuckle. "...heh...joke's on you. You're in trouble now..."

Immediately, her face contorted in fear. "N-no!"

"Let's get this bastard out, shall we?" Hippolyta said. With no warning, she forced the levitating body down.

Sank them both to the floor, so Hecate fell to her knees. From within, Hecate arched her back and forced her arms to her sides. "C-come on!" she yelled. "Do it!"

"We've got you now!" Circe barked, as all four Kolibris rushed in, hands outstretched.

Each touched the head of their captured family. They all projected themselves inside. An army entering through gates thrown open from the inside.

From within and without, the connection forced. Feeling himself counter-invaded, Atavast the Lunarch screamed. Eyes flared with azure light.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO-!

Chapter 93: The Nexus of the Crisis, and the Origin of Storms

BZZZZZZT. BZZZZZT.

Crunch, crunch. Crash!

Dying roar of a chainsword. Groan of metal sheets bent away. Hooves stepping through.

A low chuckle.

"...aaahhh...heh heh...Thrice-Born, you finally made it."

Stars and Storch took positions around the corridor, eyeing the figure hunched eerily on an overturned storage box with unease.

"..." Stepping through, Elster looked around, then faced it. "...I suppose thanks are in order. We wouldn't have found our way out of the stairwell otherwise."

"Though the damage to the walls is lamentable," Diodana said, her students helping her through the opening. Four photo-receptors regarded the daemon with unseen abhorrence. She turned away."As is the abuse of holy technology. By the Omnissiah..."

The figure, hunched and winged, bore its sharp teeth in a wicked grin. Beard bobbed under its chin, its skin a coppery brown. Silver wires and cables ran in and out of emaciated, aggrieved flesh. One cybernetic eye regarded the replika commander with sickly yellow light.

"No thanks needed. By aiding you, I take one step closer to the annulment of my debts," the Fury rasped, gesturing nonchalantly with a silver hand, ending in steel claws. Its other hand stroked its beard absentmindedly. "The Arkifane grows tired of this diversion, Thrice-Born. As he does with the interference of the Dark Gods."

"As do I" Elster said, gritting her teeth. Her hand clenched the handle of her power sword. "Are we close?"

A normal claw pointed down the corridor to the Fury's left. "Second right, down, and then left. You will find the Warp engine there." It snorted, an excited rumble in its chest. "As well as the followers of the Blood God."

"Good. Consider your obligations here fulfilled. You're dismissed." Elster spun on her hoof and stalked down the corridor. Without a word, her large entourage fell in lockstep.

Dash side-eyed the Fury as she jogged up beside her mother. "Can we trust that thing?"

"We can't trust any of them," Elster seethed, furrowing her brow. A burning heat in her chest. "I am so sick of Chaos."

As the last replikas fretfully followed, eyes cast back warily, the Fury chuckled.

"Be careful, Blade of the Arkifane," the Fury muttered, wiping drool from its mouth. It looked down, counting coins looted from the Nomarch's many rooms. It's own private windfall, as befit a scavenger. It looked back at the retreating group, once again stroking its beard.

"...there is one among them who knows you better than you know."

 

"Free me! I am Steward of the 4th Silver Tower! Servant of the Eater of Tomes! You cannot hold me!"

Wind swept through crenelations of the hexagonal tower. About it twinkled an infinite sea of stars, reflected in the placid sea. As above, so below.

Chains rustled, as the kneeling figure struggled against his bonds. Pink arms snatched at the air at his waist, gold-embroidered blue robes wrinkling as they chafed against mental steel.

"Do you hear me!?" Atavast the Lunarch barked, bobbing back and forth. Toothy mouth dominating his entire yellow face, while crescent moon shaped horns, tilted higher toward his left side, sported glaring magenta eyes. "Let. Me. G-ACK!"

A hoof stomped against the side of the daemon's head, forcing him to lean hard to his right.

"Shut the fuck up, you bitch," Hippolyta said, pulling the daemon's chains tighter. "Or I'll beat your ass a second time."

"..." Gritting his teeth, Atavast eyed the Storch warily, the three eyes on his left horn wincing in pain at the hoof that ground into his head. "...vile ghost..."

Bonk!

"Ow!" the Herald cried, seeing (more) stars briefly.

"That's my girlfriend you're talking to," Circe said, raising the mental afterimage of her tome, with which she bruised the daemon's forehead. "Now, you're going to get the hell out of my daughter's body, and fuck off to where you came from."

Behind her, her four children glared daggers at the daemon.

Shaking his head, the Herald chuckled. "Oh, too bad, so sad," Atavast said, tilting his head to the side. "Didn't I tell Hecate before? Once the possession is enacted, it cannot be undone! Guess we're stuck toge-HRK!"

Another violent tug on the chain. Another stomp on the side of the daemon's head.

"Bull-shit!" Hippolyta growled, narrowing her eyes. "You're a big, bad daemon sorcerer, yet you can't unstick yourself from a mortal vessel? Leck meinen Arsch!"

"It's true!" Atavast lied, pushing back into Hippolyta's hoof, so it deformed his cheek. "You won't be rid of me!"

"Again, you lie!" Circe seethed, furrowing her brow and gritting her teeth. "You'll leave my daughter if we have to banish you here and now!"

"Try it, witchling! Your power is naught compared to mine!"

"But it's not just her power alone. It's all of us."

A hand clapped on Circe's shoulder. She turned her head.

"Follow my lead," Hecate said, brows furrowed.

Her mother stepped aside. The auburn-haired Kolibri stepped forward. Towered over their prisoner, despite her short stature.

Wind swept over them, through her hair. Dark clouds formed in the sky, blotting out the stars.

"...your special effects mean nothing, little one," Atavast said, grinning defiantly. "Parlor tricks! I am a sorcerer of Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways. The God of Magic. There is no spell of banishing you could weave, that I cannot unbind. It is useless!"

Hecate tilted her head. "...oh, I don't intend to banish you, just yet..." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. It vibrated in her throat. "...Atavast de Lunaribus, H'ken ti Rororo M'lech Mor..."

A crack of thunder.

The daemon jumped in his skin. His blood froze. Heart stopped. A shiver ran up his spine. He felt it in his very soul.

Atavast gritted his teeth, feeling with terror the blunt invocation of his True Name.

"...w-...w-wh-where did you learn that!?" Atavast stammered, teeth chattering. Magenta eyes wide, vibrating in their sockets. His voice rose both in octave and in volume. "H-how did you pluck that from my mind, without me knowing!?"

The Kolibri pointed in the daemon's face. A shadow fell over her her eyes, as the clouds thickened. Thunder rumbled.

"...Atavast de Lunaribus, H'ken ti Rororo M'lech Mor..." Hecate intoned. She leaned her head forward, allowing her glaring eyes to catch unearthly light. "We curse you!"

The rest of her circle, surrounding the daemon now, pointed and intoned together, "We curse you!"

"Aaah!" the daemon yelped, leaning away from Hecate. Head pitched back.

Feeling something in his body, his eyes turned inward, toward his forehead.

Slowly, black lines snaked up his face and converged. Forming an empty circle, at the crown of his head, just above his scowling mouth. "...ah...ah! Stop!"

Counter-charms were useless. Wielding his True Name, there was little the Kolibri witch - much less her entire coven working together - couldn't do to the daemon.

Hippolyta, holding the daemon fast, grinned sadistically. "Oh, this is going to be good..."

"For your sins against us, our ship, and our family, we curse you thricefold," Hecate said, finger pointed squarely at the daemon. "Three shall be your burdens, three your banes. 'Til the end of forever, and back again. So say we all!"

"So say we all!"

"Ngh! Nnnngh!" Atavast grunted, struggling against his bonds. His soul screamed, anticipating the hex, like a prisoner awaiting the bite of the headsman's axe.

"First, the Curse of Honesty!" Hecate said. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped. "You shall never tell a lie, until none remain to hear it! Until the last mortals die, truth in your word and writ. So say we all!"

"So say we all!"

Hippolyta whistled.

"Noooo!" Atavast shrieked, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He looked inward again. Watching, feeling, the roots of the hex bite deep. Staining his soul, his immortal being, with a blight that could not be erased, hidden, or avoided. Felt the violation of his very nature. A being of deception, denied the essential act, primordial act of lying. Inside the circle on his forehead, a single black star formed. "Do not do this to me!"

"Second, the Curse of the Known!" Hecate continued, unabated. "Secrets, secrets, you shall not keep, upon the living nor the dead. Never protect what's hidden deep, 'til the last kept secret's said. So say we all!"

"So say we all!"

Another hex. Another commandment. Another star etched on the daemon's forehead. He writhed in pain, fear, and fury.

"Do you know what you're dealing with!? The Eater of Tomes will devour your souls!" Atavast shouted. He writhed and rocked, trying desperately to break free. Panting, he broke out into a cold sweat. The wind - and the curses - chilled him to the bone. His anger gave way to panic. "Tzeentch! Lord Tzeentch, please! Help me! Deliver me from these witches! Change my damnable fate!"

If Tzeentch heard - if he cared - he answered only with deafening silence. Only the howl of the wind and the crack of thunder greeted the Herald.

For Fate was fickle.

"Third, the Curse of Mediocrity!" Hecate said, circumspectly ignoring Hippolyta's bemused eyebrow. "Here you are and here you stay, your career has lost its chance. 'Til Tzeentch himself has fall'n away, your rank will ne'er advance. So say we all!"

"So say we all!"

Something broke inside the Herald. Like a fragile pane of glass, shattered in an instant. As the last, black star formed on his forehead, all composure fell away.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" he cried, tears rolling down his face. "You're killing me! It's murder! To be unable to become greater...to have no ambitions to fulfill!? I cannot take it!" He began to thrash and rock. Not to escape, but simply in soul-crushing torment. "Take it away! Take these curses away! I BEG YOU! PLEASE!"

Hecate smiled. "What will you promise, to lift these curses, Atavast de lunaribus?"

"ANYTHING!" Atavast cried, trembling bodily. He bent over, eyes downcast. Rivulets of tears dripped on the ground at her hooves. "I will do anything! ANYTHING! Just take them away! Please!"

Hecate leaned her head back, triumphant. Eyes stared down contemptuously. She grinned.

"...I think we can come to terms..."

 

"Eeeeee!"

The Blue Horror crumbled against the corridor wall, skull caved in. It slumped to the grated floor, skin turning gray and crumbling away into ash.

"...hah...hah...hah..."

Slowly, illusory visions disintegrated as readily as the change daemons that wrought it. Leaving behind bare and cold metal. Their bodies, unsplit, twitching and perishing all around.

Panting, doubled over, the Claw of Malal's skin wept black blood from many wounds. It stood up straight, sucking a deep breath into its deer skull. Looked around, training pinprick white eyes and ears. Dreadlocks swung with the movement of its head.

Tightening its grip on its maces, the Claw advanced. Hooves utterly silent as it approached the final door.

Unlike previous doors, it did not open on its own.

Drip.

"J-just a minute!" called a voice from behind the barrier. In a hushed tone, it muttered, "Go! Go! Run!"

"..." The Claw rolled its shoulder, poised on the edge of battering the door down.

Drip. Drip.

Before it could, it heard a muffled set of doors slide open within, and the frightened clack of hooves rush out. A second later, those doors shut, and the ones barring the Claw opened.

Drip. Drip drip.

"Well, well, well," Mik'hul said, voice hopping between myriad mouths. Yellow eyes regarded the invader with a mixture of cocky bravado and trepidation. "Look what the Sphiranx dragged in."

"..." The Claw of Malal stared hatefully at the Tzeentchian daemon engine.

One corridor chamber over, the muffled sound of another set of doors. More clacks of hooves.

Drip drip drip.

"What?" Mik'hul said, flailing tongues at the daemon of malice. "Got nothing to say?"

The Claw inhaled. "...we shall deny Tzeentch their destinies and fates..."

"That's what you clowns always say. Get some new material, pal."

Fists clenched around mace handles. A hard exhale. "..."

The Claw took a hard step forward. Muscles rippled. It raised a mace.

Drip.

Plink.

The Claw flinched. Blinked as water slid down its skull. "..."

"...heh..." Mik'hul said. "The boss needs to do some maintenance. Cause it looks like we've sprung a leak. Eh? Eeeeeehhhh?"

Drip-drip-drip-drip-drip-drip-drip-drip-drip-drip-drip.

The Claw turned, looking over its shoulder. Watched water shower down inside the corridor from the ceiling. Building to a veritable rainstorm.

Its horns and shoulders and dreadlocks and skull pelted by rain, it looked up. The white pinpricks of light within its sunken sockets widened.

SPLOOSH!

A waterfall crashed down atop the daemon of malice. Bowling it over through sheer weight and volume.

"AAAAAAAAAAH!"

Two waterlogged replikas landed hard on the floor. A Star and Storch, naked and drenched.

As suddenly as the water came, it disappeared down the floor grates. Volume far greater than the Penrose's crawl spaces could reasonably handle, nor so quickly. Neither did it short any systems, nor conduct electricity. It came, and then it went.

Rolling around in the lingering puddles, the replikas coughed.

"Hck! Gck! Gah!" Breach sputtered, hacking up water from her lungs. "...ah...haaah...f-fuck..."

"Hah...hah..." Ishtar gasped, rising to her hands and knees. "Wh-where...?"

"Glad you girls could make it!" Mik'hul said, chuckling. "Enjoy the swim?"

"D-did you do that to us, y-you shit?" Ishtar said, brushing waterlogged red hair from her face. "I don't care if you're the reactor. I can still beat your fucking face!"

"Ish, look!" Breach said, grabbing her girlfriend's shoulder. She pointed.

"Ngh...hah..."

The Claw of Malal struggled to rise, water running off its skull. Dreadlocks flopped, soaked to bursting. Hands groped blindly for its maces.

"Yeah, can you ladies handle this?" Mik'hul said, gesturing with a pink tongue at the daemon of malice. "Please and thank you!"

"Hrr!?" the Claw grunted, head jerking up. It eyed the daemon of change, water spraying from its nostril holes as it seethed. It grabbed one mace and began to rise.

"No you don't!"

The Claw grunted in surprise, as its deer horns were seized by Ishtar. It looked over its shoulder in time to see her fist flying toward its face.

Smack!

"Get him!" Breach yelled, rushing in. "Hold him down!"

"You're not getting away!" Ishtar yelled, seizing its wrist.

"Raagh!" the Claw roared, arms struggling against hands that restrained it from behind. Their hooves kicked its flanks and back, and used their incredible height to lift it bodily from the floor. "Ngh! Unhand! Vashtorr spawn!"

Mik'hul whistled. "Not so tough now, huh? Hey ladies..."

He grinned, and licked his many lips. "Bring him here."

"..." The Stoch blinked. Ishtar's lips parted to her own toothy, sadistic smile. "Sure! Come on, you heard him!"

The replikas stomped forward, carrying their captive like a fussy child.

"All of you will die!" the Claw roared, writhing in their grasp. It kicked the air wildly. Tried desperately to free its mace hand. "Death to the Dark Gods! And all with ambitions to become them! The Soul Forges will burn to slag, and Malal will devour Vashtorr's soul!"

"Shut UP!" Ishtar growled, using her hold on one of the daemon's horns to slam its face into the doorframe.

Crack!

"Gah!" the Claw gasped, pulled away from the frame. It blinked in pain, its skull fractured down the middle. Head swayed drunkenly, its eyes saw spots. "Ngh...death...th-they must die...k-kill you...all..."

"Here you go, you freak," Ishtar said. The replikas turned the daemon around, and then tossed him backwards toward the reactor wall. "Enjoy."

"Oh, I intend to."

Pink tongues shot out at high speed, wrapping around the Claw's body.

"Nah! No!" the Claw grunted, sobering up as its body was restrained even more thoroughly. It struggled blindly, muscles straining against the forces pulling it backward. "Th-the Hierarch of Anarchy and Terror will-"

It looked over its shoulder, just in time to see a single, toothy maw expand and open.

"Itadakimasu!" Mik'hul cheered, as a single large tongue shot forward to wrap around the malice daemon's neck. Lips and teeth enveloped his prey.

"AAAAGH!" the Claw screamed, eyes burning bright, as color-shifting lips closed over its head.

The mace clattered to the floor. The shadow of the daemon's struggling body fell over it, kicking and thrashing in vain.

"...holy shit..." Breach breathed. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"...y-yeah..." Ishtar said, swallowing.

Within the chomping and chewing mouth, the Claw of Malal's muffled screams rang out. Its legs kicking the air, even as they too were lifted from the floor and sucked, inch by inch, into the orifice.

"AAAGH! AAAAH! GAAAA-!"

Finally, the daemon's hooves slipped silently past the lips. The voice fell silent.

Crunch. Munch. Krkk. Crunch.

Gulp.

The massive maw delivered its prize, or what remained of it, down the daemon engine's greedy gullet. The lump indicating the malice daemon disappeared into the wall. Its hunger sated, the maw shrank, until it was no larger than any other.

Burp!

"...ah..." Mik'hul said, happily. "That hit the spot."

The replikas stared in horror. "..."

The daemon of change looked each up and down. "...what?"

"Wh-where is that daemon going?" Breach asked, taking a fearful step back.

"Don't worry about it," Mik'hul said, flatly.

Shing.

"I-is it gone?" Dorothy said, clinging to her sister's back, as they tentatively stepped through the corridor doors. They looked down at the rapidly disappearing water, then up at the Star and Storch. "What?"

"Ish? Breach?" Alice said, looking between them. Cocked one eyebrow. "How did you get here...?"

"Ngh...don't worry about it," Ishtar said, rubbing her damp scalp. "Warp fuckery."

"S-so really..." Dorothy said, looking around the corridor and into the reactor room, "...where did that...other daemon go?"

"Again," Mik'hul said, smiling. "Don't worry about it."

 

"I-it tried to eat me...the door it...the teeth! The door tried to eat me! Fuck!"

A lead pipe impacted a snarling face. Sparks flew where a brass blade impacted a riot shield. Zap of a stun baton against twitching, lilac flesh. Scarlet dripped to the floor.

Replikas shouldered each other, supporting their shuffling pace. In front of them, a group of defenders fought a steady stream of daemonic assailants.

"It'll be okay," said one Ara to another. Scarlet wept from the stomach and back of the injured Ara, punctures in the form of a row of teeth marks. "We'll get you some sprays and patches. Then get someone to look at you."

"A-assuming...any medics are left...fuck..."

"Shh...don't strain yourself," Meryl said, supporting the pale, flagging Star as best her shorter frame could manage.

"I'll...b-AH!" Kite gasped, hand clutching her stomach. Winced, as her breath caught in her throat. "...f-fine...'ll be f-fine..."

The group had to halt in alarm, as a trio of Daemonettes rounded the corner ahead and rushed to join the growing infernal mob. One raked the back of a Flesh Hound with their crab claw, before snapping wildly at Trisk's head.

"Shit!" Trisk barked, ducking and smacking the claw away with her rolling pin. "Not more of them!"

"Get back!" Shock barked, angrily thrusting a stun prod at the newcomers from behind her shield. "Back!"

"Ngh...got..." Kite groaned, trying to stand up on her own. Shaking hands groped for the talon-blade at her belt. "Gotta...help..."

"No!" Meryl yelled, tugging on the Star's arm. "Let them handle it! You're not-"

Kite, swaying on her feet, seized up. Head swimming, she clutched her chest. Locked in a coughing fit. She fell against the wall and slid down to the floor. "...hngh...f-fu-...hck, gack!"

"KITE!" Meryl cried, squatting beside her. Cold sweat poured down her cheek.

As the defenders backed up, rapidly losing ground, they froze in surprise.

Clack-clack. Clack. Clack-clack, clack. Clack-clack.

The daemons shuddered, recoiling in alarm. Eyes widened. The Flesh Hound ceased chewing a Daemonette's leg, and barked wildly.

"Wh-what are they...?" Awe said, brandishing her metal pipe defensively. She glanced over her shoulder, then did a double take. Greater than normal number of eyes widening in surprise.

Two figures walked forward, side by side. Behind them, a growing assemblage of others.

"..." Adler walked forward, hands clasped behind his back. He bore a calm expression, of one knowing matters were now well in hand.

To his right, Daisy walked with him, draped in the oxide red robes of Mars. Mechadendrites writhed behind her.

A human brain, implanted with diodes and wires, floated in amniotic fluid. The eldest Ara held the glass container in her arms, bearing the brain uncomfortably but resolutely.

"AAAAAGH!" a Daemonette screeched, backing away in terror. Leg injured, it stumbled to the metal floor, crawling back.

The Flesh Hound whimpered, then bolted. Claws scratching metal as it dashed away.

Needing no further prompts, the remaining daemons fled. Hissing and barking and shrieking in fear.

The toppled Daemonette, too slow, took a blow to the head with Awe's metal pipe. It rolled, scrambling drunkenly in blind panic.

"D-Daisy!" Meryl cried, as the other group joined them. She and Kite looked up, shivering as they beheld the unwholesome brain. "..."

"No! NOOO!" the Daemonette shrieked, backing up against a wall as Daisy approached. Threw a claw over its face.

"Begone," Daisy said, glaring down at the daemon of excess. She held the container out before the creature.

"AAAAAAGH!" the Daemonette cried, as lilac skin peeled from its bones, and black eyes boiled from their sockets.

The replikas in attendance watched in horror as the monster disintegrated before their eyes. Layer by layer.

"...whoa..." Trisk said, eyes wide. "...metal..."

"...wh-what...ever that...is..." Kite said, before a coughing fit hit her. "...gck...k-keep it...uuuup..."

Slump.

"Kite!" Meryl yelled, as the Star fell over on her side.

She pressed her hand over Kite's stomach and touched the Star's cold face.

Kite smiled weakly. "...w-wa-rm..." she breathed. "...he-y...pre-tty...lady..."

As her vision swam and consciousness faded, the Star watched the Eule shake her shoulders and scream, panicked, into her face.

"Kite! Don't you fucking die on me! Kite? KITE!"

 

"ACHTUNG!"

Claws scratched. Hellblades snatched up and made ready. Glowing ember eyes turned from the task of daubing crimson faces with daemonic blood.

One by one, a dozen Bloodletters stood to attention, planting feet on slowly disappearing corpses of their Slaaneshi rivals.

Behind them, the doors leading down to the Nomarch's Warp travel module. The Warp engine, and behind it the half-operational Geller Field Generator. Around its doorway, arcane script etched into bare metal. One of the only sections of the Nomarch they had time to ward before translation, for precisely this eventuality.

Clack!

The replika commander's right hoof slammed onto the metal floor. An incongruous wind, from some impossible breeze, swept her tattered captain's greatcoat. She raised her power sword, holding it pointed up with both hands.

Behind her, an entire replika retinue, amassed across their labyrinthine journey through the ship.

"Hateful daemons of Khorne, hear my words!" Elster barked, baring her teeth. Brows furrowed, as her muscles shuddered with barely contained fury. "I am Dame Elster Thrice-Born, Knight of Caliban, Mother of Machines, and Blade of the Arkifane!" She threw one hand aside, and pointed the sword forward. "I challenge your mightiest champion to single combat! Send them forth, so I might quench my blade in their unworthy blood!"

The Bloodletters roared and writhed, baring claws and fangs of their own. They riled with anger, their boiling blood stoked. The thought of slaughter. The audacity.

"..." Elster's children eyed the daemons, then their mother. Sweat broke out on their faces.

The Mother of Machines narrowed her eyes. Teeth clenched.

Without doubt, a gamble. Merely being present, in such large numbers, might provoke an all-out assault on the spot. Yearned, as the daemons did, for blood and skulls. Sacrifices to their fell god and his bottomless appetites.

Too many of the replikas at Elster's back were unprepared for combat. Too many wounded. Too many, despite her best efforts, lacking as much training as they'd need.

They might win. Especially with Helga and Petunia nearby, waiting for the signal to flank. But it wouldn't be easy, nor bloodless.

Too many of her babies died this day. Elster couldn't countenance losing more.

Her best shot...was to exploit the much-vaunted Blood God's ancillary obsession with a dark kind of honor. The need to achieve glory - personal glory - in a proper fight between champions. If the daemons wanted it, she would gladly offer herself.

Even if it meant more debt. Even if it meant Ariane would be trapped a little longer.

A knot formed in Elster's chest. Nothing for it. It's just...more time...

As if buying time wasn't already her objective with this farce, in any case. Behind her, Diodana and her students hid. Poised beside a vent cover.

"Well!?" Elster spat, shrugging to relieve the tension in her shoulders. "Is there not one among you willing to fight!? Or are you all craven, gutless cowards, who won't engage save with weight of numbers!?"

Daemon throats roared even louder, hissing and spitting, outraged. Such an insult, left unanswered? Preposterous. Literally unthinkable, for their ilk.

Their eyes turned to each other. Rumbles in their throats, they stared at their fellows. Not in their nature, Khorne's belligerant brood, to debate or discuss. They established pecking order by bearing and threat displays.

Elster cocked an eyebrow. If Mik'hul's information was accurate - itself a dubious assumption - bands of daemons formed themselves around champions marginally mightier than themselves, as a matter of course. "Sergeants" whose personal charisma, might, or ability could marshal disparate elements into a warband. Champions who, in turn, would pledge themselves to mightier daemons, forming what amounted to armies among the misbegotten hordes of Chaos.

That such jockeying for position even needed to occur...had this group lost their champion in the fight against their Slaaneshi rivals?

Not unlike Orks, really, these Khorne daemons..., Elster thought. The Blood God must love the Greenskins.

She eyed the group warily. Drawn by the noise, and the promise of a challenge, individual Khorne daemons - Bloodletters and the occasional Flesh Hound - arrived. Joined the threat displays with furious growls and token claw swipes. Their burning eyes looked across at the rival who dared challenge them.

Brazenly, one Bloodletter broke from the pack, and strode forward. Hellblade glinting in the overhead lights. It huffed, making to present itself before her.

"..." Elster readied her sword.

"NO!"

Suddenly, one of the Bloodletters, a newcomer from nearby, forced itself through the line. Jostling or shoving its compatriots out of the way, eliciting incensed growls.

The foremost Bloodletter - the would-be new Champion - spun around, snarling at the challenge to its authority.

Shing!

With one stroke, its head was divorced from its body. Boiling blood sprayed from the neck, as it collapsed to the floor.

"...the fuck?" Artemis muttered, gripping the chainsword propped on her shoulders.

Behind Elster, the previous deathly silence broke with a flurry of whispers.

Their mother swallowed, eyes widening. "..."

"Back! Back!"

Planting a foot on the previous hopeful's body, the newcomer growled at the group behind. Hellblade flailing resolutely.

The voice barking from the Bloodletter's mouth...gravely and low, like all the others. But, after a whole day of cutting down their boisterous kin, Elster couldn't help notice a lighter texture to the sound.

Unlike Slaanesh Daemonettes, Bloodletters weren't, strictly speaking, androgynous. There was a distinctly masculine-coded shape to their muscular bodies, albeit of variance between the bulging and the lean. Rather, they had no obvious sexual characteristics, primary or secondary. Khorne's spawn didn't need them.

There was almost no body fat displayed, either. Nor did their faces bear marks or shapes analogous to that of human men or women. They were, first and foremost, daemons. At best grotesque parodies of the human form.

Still, by the voice...Elster couldn't stop herself thinking of the newcomer in a feminine context.

"Back! Back!" the daemon shouted, staring down other aspirants.

She turned, burning eyes glaring. She raised her Hellblade and pointed it at Elster, in a mirror of the replika commander's previous challenge. A terribly exact mirror.

"She's mine!"

Chapter 94: Of Chaos Come Home

"Everything?"

Smoke accumulated near the ceiling. Warm, flickering light bathed Hydroponics. Stifling warmth filled the space.

"Ngh...gck...haah...y-yes..." Rose coughed. She covered her mouth with her hand. Leaned forward as her chest heaved. "...hah...e-everything. Everything that...looks in-ngh...-fected, or r-rotten. Burn it all."

The Mynah turned her whole body. The light of the burning, tainted tree reflected off her armaglass face plate. She turned back, her frown hidden. "We need to open the vents again," Jenny said, voice quivering. "The smoke..."

"It's...not the smoke..." Rose wheezed, holding up her palm. Slick with fresh, foul-smelling green mucus. She sat back against the door, shaking hand stroking Chicory's cooling body as best she could. "Continue...quarantine...can't let it...get out..."

"..." Jenny shut her eyes, a painful knot in her broad chest. She clenched her fist. "...okay. But don't die on me, alright?"

Rose simply nodded. Her body too tired, too stiff. Throat too stuffed. "..."

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

She watched the Mynah stack spoiled plants on the pyre. Rose looked down at Chicory. Her poor sister.

It was funny. Despite her ravaged body...the girl almost looked peaceful.

"..." Rose frowned, her arthritic fingers unable to properly stroke her sister's hair. She looked out at the flames.

"[...Tulip...]," Rose messaged over the Noosphere. Digital interface sifted through a series of private channels and message threads to find her second eldest sister. "[...status report?]"

Artificial eyes watched the pyre.

"..."

It took a minute, before an answer came. "[...Bridge secured. Vanessa, Samantha, Rue, Violet here.]"

"[That's good.]"

"[Bertha is dead.]"

"[That's bad.]" Rose shut her eyes, unsure what to say to Jenny. "[How's your stomach?]"

"[Hurts. Full of foam]," Tulip replied. She added, "[Teacher et al. about to reach engine. So...just wait a little longer. We'll send help.]"

Rose watched Jenny empty chicken cages, one by one, into the fire. Their dead, rotting occupants flopped limply into the flames. Caught light instantly, burning feathers drifting lazily across the room.

The Ara hoped, dispassionately, that some of the hens and roosters kept as personal pets at least survived elsewhere on the ship. It would be a shame to lose their eggs.

She felt guilty, thinking about eggs when their precious garden rotted and burned. Her dead sister's head resting in her lap.

Dissociation was a bitch.

"[...no rush.]"

 

"When the fight starts, get moving. Okay?"

As many replikas as could be spared stood at the entrance to the workshop. Used their bodies to block the sight of the crowd of Khornate daemons raving in a semi-circle across from them.

Diodana and Hyssop nodded.

"We're certain LSTR-512 can hold her own in this engagement?" Diodana said, four photo-receptors peeking through a gap between Dash and Double Tap.

"If anyone can, it's her," Dash said, shrugging. She kept her eyes forward, scanning the daemons.

"Is Pet ready to move?" Double Tap said, looking over her shoulder at Hyssop. "Can Helga intercept, if things get dicey?" She looked forward, frowning. "I don't like the look of those 'dogs'."

Hyssop nodded. "They both say they're ready."

"Quiet," Artemis said, hunching down and tightening her grip on the chainsword. "It's starting."

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The replika commander strode forward, hooves sounding on metal floors.

"..." Elster readied her weapon. "...do you have a name?"

"Hmph..." the Bloodletter huffed. Her voice gravely, but strangely feminine. She kicked the decapitated Bloodletter body aside, then punted its head across the workshop. "Doesn't matter."

The replika commander swallowed. "..."

Without thinking, the two began to circle one another. The crowd of daemons hooted and snarled, pumping their fists and blades in the air. Long tongues lolled from their mouths, relishing the bloodshed to come.

She eyed her opponent gravely. A shiver ran down her spine.

There's something...strange about this one, Elster thought, studying the creature's form and bearing.

Every Bloodletter she encountered mimicked the baying maniacs at the periphery. Belligerent, taciturn, and eager to enter combat at the first opportunity. They wore their anger on their non-existent sleeves, proudly and nakedly.

The Bloodletter patiently eyeing the replika was different. Her ember-bright eyes conveyed anger, yes. No mistaking it for anything but a child of the Blood God. But the anger was...subdued. Restrained. Cold. She seethed. Smoldered.

What's worse, the glare pierced Elster to the heart. The replika shivered. It was she who felt naked here, despite being clad in bedraggled shirt and trousers, beneath a torn and stained Eusan Empire captain's jacket. She felt seen.

"...are you ready?" the Bloodletter said, narrowing her eyes.

"..." Elster frowned. Cast a glance sideways.

Dash caught her eyes, and nodded. She looked over her shoulder, and whispered. "Go, go."

At that prompting, Aras behind the replika wall squatted, removing the vent grate. After Hyssop entered, they waved their teacher inside. The tech priest groaned, getting down on hands and knees, before crawling in.

Elster, seeing this as best she could from the corner of her eye, locked attention on the Bloodletter champion. "Yes."

"Kick her ass, mom!" Artemis called, pumping a fist in the air.

Fleshhounds in the crowd barked. Restrained by their brass collars, by hands of snarling Bloodletters. The crowd grew restless.

The champion stooped, clutching the handle of her Hellblade with both hands. She bowed, muscles tightening in her entire crimson frame. "..."

Elster leaned forward, and inclined her head. Readied her power sword. "..."

As the cries of the daemons reached a fever pitch, their champion rushed forward.

"RRRAGH!"

---

"Ngh...hah...!"

Fingers clutched sheets. Sweat beaded on pale flesh.

The gestalt writhed in her bunk. Teeth clenched. Took a ragged breath.

Despite how terrible the visions, the dream seemed to circle back around on itself.

"...Ellie..." Ariane breathed, tossing in bed.

In her mind, she remained trapped. Locked in a glass coffin, while her girlfriend tangled with a red, fiery devil.

She banged repeatedly against the glass. "Elster! Look out!" she shouted. "ELSTER!"

Yet, no matter how she cried, her voice couldn't carry through the barrier. She could only watch, heart racing, as blades clashed.

Locked together, the devil turned its face briefly toward Ariane. It seemed to look through her.

A chill ran down the gestalt's spine. She pressed herself against the back of the coffin.

The devil opened its mouth, and fire leaped from it.

"...witch..."

---

Clang!

Gasps. Growls. Metal scraped against metal. Sparks.

The walls wept blood.

Crimson-skinned bystanders roared.

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, leaning back from the weight pressed against her power sword. She smelled brimstone on her opponent's breath.

"..." The Bloodletter bared her needle teeth. Leaned in against the replika commander, their blades locked together. "Do you feel it, Thrice-Born?"

"...feel...ngh...what!?" Elster barked, pushing the daemon away. Brought her blade up to parry another blow.

"The rage!" the daemon yelled, swinging once. Twice. Stepped back. "The rage deep inside! Primordial anger!"

Clang. Clang. Woosh.

Elster created space with a backhanded swing. "Talkative, aren't we?" she breathed. "All I'm angry about is you wasting my time." She pressed her attack.

Clang. The Bloodletter parried.

"Lies. I know for a fact it's there," the daemon said, ceding one step of ground. Two. She shoved with her blade, stopping the replika's advance. "You hide your blessed rage from them. Your spawn. You bury it deep, because you fear it."

They locked blades again. The replika leaned forward, putting her weight into it.

"I'm not afraid of you," Elster hissed. "You know nothing about me."

"Not me. Yourself." The Bloodletter shoved the replika back, then began a flurry of blows.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Woosh.

Elster sidestepped, letting the Bloodletter run past. Panting, she assumed a defensive stance. "..."

"...you're afraid of hurting them. Again." Standing up slowly, the daemon cracked her neck right. Left. She turned her head, eyeing the replika. "You fear hurting her most of all. Again."

Gritted teeth. "You know nothing!" Elster barked. She flinched, as the daemon advanced in a flash. "Ragh!"

Clang. Clang. Shing.

"Ah!" Elster grunted, dodging sideways. Free hand clutched the cut on her thigh. Eyed the daemon warily. "..."

"Yes...good..." the Bloodletter breathed, snorting hot air from her nostrils. She rolled her wrist, waving the Hellbrade one-handed. Readied it again, eyes locked on the replika. "We've hit a nerve. Does she know what you've done, Elster? Does Ariane know?"

A stopped heart. Gritted teeth.

"Get her name out of your filthy mouth!" Elster barked, charging.

Clang. Clang, clang. Shing.

"Ngh! Haaah..." the daemon shuddered, backing away. Hand brushed the cut on her arm. Lapped boiling blood that dripped, sizzling on the floor. Tasted it on her palm. "Mmmmm...Good! More! I want more, Elster!"

"..." Elster panted, hunched over and side-eyeing the daemon. "...who...are you? How do you know me? H-how do you know Ariane?"

The Bloodletter...chuckled.

"Elster...I know all about you."

 

Step. Step. Step.

Petunia sidled carefully across the workshop wall. Magenta hair slick with sweat, clinging to her scalp.

In front of her, a whole crowd of furious, crimson daemons stood enraptured at the spectacle before them.

She cast a furtive glance right. "..."

Helga, slowly and carefully stomping down a side hallway, gave her a thumbs up. "..."

"..." The Ara nodded, then continued sneaking.

She was mere meters from the doorway, when a Flesh Hound, bound by brass collar, stopped.

Raised its snout. "Snf, snf, snf...!"

"..." Petunia froze. Entire body trembling.

...snf...snf...rrrrrgh..."

The Flesh Hound turned its head and looked directly at the Ara. Eyes burned like candles.

"RUN FOR IT!" Helga shouted.

Fuck it! Petunia thought, dashing left, toward the door.

"Rragh! Ruff, ruff, ruff!" the Flesh Hound barked, twisting from the grasp of its Bloodletter handler and sprinting away from the Khornate throng.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Petunia grunted, slamming her fist onto the door panel. She took a terrified glance back at the approaching beast, pressing herself against the door. Hand scrambling for a wrench at her belt.

Shing.

Jaws almost around the Ara's neck, the Flesh Hound bit air. Petunia stumbled backward through the open door.

"Dammit, fuck!" Petunia grunted, scrambling to her hooves.

"Raff! Mmmrghh! Ruff!" the beast barked, spitting saliva. To its consternation, the ring of script around the doorway stopped it cold. It snapped and clawed at the air, repelled by an invisible wall of force.

With another slamming fist, Petunia shut the door from the other side, and leaned against the wall. Hand clutched to her chest. Heard and felt the furious scrambling of the infernal beast just beyond the threshold.

"Hah...hah...hah..."

She swallowed, shutting her eyes. When she caught her breath, she navigated her digital interface.

"[Tell Double Tap I'm through.]"

 

"Grah!"

Pain ran up her arm. The replika gritted her teeth, and batted away the followup attack.

"Ooh!" her children gasped, watching rapt. Hearts racing.

Clang. Clang. Clang, clang. Shing!

The crowd of daemons cheered. Tongues lapping the air, jealously.

"Ngh!" the Bloodletter grunted, taking two steps forward. Rolled her shoulders, as boiling blood ran down her crimson back. She sucked air through her nostrils. ...good. But you hold back, Elster."

Panting, Elster backed up. Power sword held up defensively. "...don't know what you're..."

"Don't lie to me!" Another advance. Overhead swing.

Clang.

Their blades sparked together. The daemon leaned in close.

"You restrain your anger," the Bloodletter said, breathing brimstone in the replika's face. "Why? Why deny your true feelings?"

"Wh-why do you?" Elster said, scowling. She pressed her weight back, so they leaned heavily into one another. "You're a daemon of Khorne. Yet you're talking more than fighting."

"I wait for you to unleash yourself," the Bloodletter said, seething. "Like you did, back then. I crave it. It's all I've ever wanted. To see you that angry again."

"What are...you talking about!?" Elster growled, shoving the daemon back.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

"...have you...really...forgotten?" the Bloodletter grunted, falling back with every slice. A rumble in her throat, she brought her Hellblade up suddenly.

Clang.

Elster's eyes widened, knocked off balance. The daemon rolled her wrist and swung again, under the parried power sword. Scheisse!

Shing.

"Ah!" yelled Double Tap. "Mom!"

"Ngh!" The replika commander felt the bite of infernal brass on her sternum. Felt the spray of oxidizing fluid, as it nicked small veins at the base of her neck. Saw sparks off the metal clasp affixing her captain's overcoat.

The daemons in the crowd roared in delight. Ember eyes transfixed by the arterial spray of scarlet that hit the air. First blood against the replika challenger. They longed to taste it themselves.

The replika stumbled back a step, feeling the coat slip down her shoulders. Elster spun, free hand grabbing the flap of the coat.

"Ah!" the Bloodletter cried in surprise, as the overcoat flew in her face. She brought her Hellblade up, as the voluminous fabric plunged her into darkness.

"NNNAAAAAGH!" the daemonic spectators roared, clawing and gesticulating wildly at the dirty fighting on display.

"Now's your chance!" Artemis yelled. "Get her!"

Clack. Clack.

"...hngh!" Elster grunted, running forward. She stepped low, and swiped to her left.

"Gragh!" The Bloodletter felt the bite on her leg. Boiling blood shot out, spraying the floor in the replika's wake.

Grabbing the coat with a free hand, the daemon tore the overcoat apart. Her blade sliced it to ribbons. "Dirty trick, Thrice-Born!" she growled, limping away and tugging angrily at the lengths of fabric clinging to her horns. "How dare...?"

"I don't give a damn about your sense of fair play, daemon!" Elster barked. She advanced, swinging once. Twice.

Clang. Woosh.

"...ngh...yet still, you keep playing with me!" the Bloodletter growled. She swung back, forcing the replika on the defensive. "Why? Why did you not finish me?"

"I'm trying!" Elster said, ducking and moving to the side. Swiped at the daemon. Felt her blade bite flesh.

"Ngh! Y-you lie!" the daemon said, clutching her bleeding side. Returned a strike.

Clang.

"Twice now, you could have invoked your blade's power," the Bloodletter growled. Swing. Swing. Thrust. The Hellblade missed the replika's head by inches, cutting hairs instead. "Yet you keep your killing blows at bay. Shallow wounds. Play fighting! Why do you insult me so!? Or have you fallen to Slaanesh, and gain pleasure from my PAIN!"

"I'm not-!" Elster flinched back, and they locked blades again. "Ngh!"

The daemon leaned in.

"...no...no, no, no. You're not playing. You're stalling," the Bloodletter breathed, bearing down on the replika with all her daemonic strength. "This battle means nothing to you, except to keep my kind transfixed while your whelps..." Her burning eyes looked over Elster's shoulder, toward the door to the Engine Module. "...force this ship back into the mortal realm. Am I correct?"

"Nnn...what...gave you that impression?" Elster grunted, the corners of her mouth turning up.

The Bloodletter's eyes burned brighter. She gritted her needle teeth until her jaw hurt. NNGH!"

"Ah!"

The daemon bowled Elster over, sending her sprawling to the ground. Then, raised her Hellblade high.

Shit! Elster, flat on her ass, frantically raised her power sword. She felt the mighty blow through her arm. "Agh!"

The daemon fumed, panting brimstone in the replika's face. "Elster..."

"..." Elster brought her hoof up and planted it in the daemon's chest. Then rolled back, and kicked.

"Agh!" The Bloodletter tumbled over the replika. Horns sparked against the metal floor, before the daemon flipped and landed flat on her back.

Clutching her bleeding sternum, Elster scrambled to her hooves and held her sword out. "..."

"C'mon, mom!" Artemis yelled, over the roar of the daemon spectators. "Kill her already! You can do it!"

"Shut up, Art!" Dash whispered, elbowing the Storch in the side. "That's not what we're here for."

Clang.

The replikas flinched. Watched the daemon champion strike the floor with her sword.

Clang. Clang.

Sparks shot off, as the daemon scored the metal. A temper tantrum.

"..." Elster panted, readying her blade.

Gritting her teeth, the Bloodletter rose to her feet.

She glared at the replika, smoldering rage stoked into active fury.

"...Eeeelsteeer..."

 

"Hurry! While the Geller Field remains relatively stable!"

Hooves clacked around the engine room. Artificial fingers hammered buttons and flipped switches. Censors swung, venting sweet incense.

The Warp Engine thrummed to life, venting steam. Screens flickered, text scrolled rapidly, bathing the faces of the Aras green.

Diodana, metal fingers gliding rapidly across the keyboard, took one furtive glance up.

Three gestalt skulls stared at her with empty sockets and glowing photo-receptors.

"...Fandibar...Ultix...Mimiodora..." she whispered, regarding her departed apprentices sadly. "...intercede with the Machine God for us, dears. I deserve little mercy for what I've enabled, it's true. But...no one deserves this. Please..."

The servo-skulls gave no answer. Save the periodic binaric flash on their photo-receptors, and the whir of cogitators seated in hollow brainpans.

Looking back to her task, the tech adept muttered a prayer to the Omnissiah under her breath.

"...commencing emergency translation procedures."

 

CLANG!

"Agh!" Elster gasped, stumbling back. Eyes lighting up, she blocked again.

Clang!

The Bloodletter swung again. Woosh.

"These children...they distract you!" the daemon growled, maintaining aggression. "Hobble you. Kill your anger. Make you soft!"

Clang!

"Ngh! S-so what?" Elster grunted, stumbling back. She parried another blow, and ducked to the side. "I'm not-AH!"

Woosh!

The Bloodletter pursued the retreating replika. "You were stronger, before they came! When it was just you, your white witch, the hated Tzeentch-spawn, and your rage! They took that from you!"

Clang, clang.

Elster batted the Hellblade aside, and kicked the daemon back. "M-my children saved me!"

"Rrragh!" the Bloodletter growled, casting a flurry of blows at the replika.

Clang-clang-clang-clang-woosh-CLANG.

Blades locked together again. The two figures pressed mightily, gritting their teeth.

"Hhnn...hff...then..." the daemon seethed, panting. Sparks of metal against metal. She narrowed her eyes. "...I'll just have to...get rid of them..."

"N-no!" Elster spat, eyes widening.

"Yes!" the Bloodletter roared, pushing the replika back. And with another step forward, she brought the Hellblade down.

Shing.

"Agh!" Elster cried, scarlet shooting from her brow.

"Mom!" Double Tap yelled. Her sister physically restrained her, as she made to run forward. "L-let me go!"

"Don't!" Dash grunted, arm around Double Tap's neck. "We can't!"

Staggering back, Elster clutched at her bleeding face. Felt the laceration between her brows, and down to her right cheek. Cut across the bridge of her nose. Tasted scarlet on her lips. A quick shift to her medical module showed minor flesh damage.

She hissed, gritting her teeth. The prognosis didn't stop it hurting. "..."

To her side, she heard the daemon spectators roar again. Could practically feel their barely leashed desire to join in.

"Your spawn make you weak. Smother your anger. The Bloodletter stood up straight and pointed her sword at Elster. "The Arkifane will drag you back to life eventually. Once I'm done taking your skull for Khorne, I'll make sure to add each and every one of theirs..." She swiped sideways, to the line of replikas watching from afar. "...to the pile."

"No!" Elster growled, grip tightening on the blade. She leaned forward, heat forming in her bloodied face.

The Bloodletter extended a hand and clenched it into a fist. "Khorne will be impressed, with the mound I'll make of your precious family, Elster!"

"No!" Elster barked.

"Blood for the Blood God!" shrieked the crowd.

"Don't listen to her, mom!" Dash yelled, struggling with her sister. "She's baiting yo-"

"Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

"NOOOOO!" Elster roared, charging. Her blood boiled.

She thumbed the switch on her power sword.

"YES!" the Bloodletter cried, batting the wild swing away. Watch a chip of brass fly off from the edge, as the whole room was bathed in blue. The daemon gave ground, and parried again. Her voice rang with ecstasy. "Finally! There's that rage that gave me life!"

"I'll give you death, you Dämonenhure!" Elster shrieked, swiping as fast as her artificial limbs and heart could sustain. "Don't you touch my babies!"

Clang. Clang, clang, clang.

"Whatever it takes!" the daemon cried, her Hellblade losing chips with each parry. She panted, grinning harder. "This is the face I wanted to see! Elster Five One Two...ngh...the Arkifane may have your allegiance..."

Shing!

Tink!

The Hellblade clattered to the ground, with the red right arm still attached. Scarlet sizzled on the floor.

"...hah...b-but..." The daemon clutched the bleeding stump at her shoulder. Back pressed against a weeping wall. She smiled. "...hah...Khorne loves you."

Elster, glowing blade pressed perilously close to the daemon's throat, panted. Eyes wide, teeth clenched. Heart racing with murderous adrenaline. "..."

"He loved you since the day I was born," the Bloodletter said, ember eyes regarding the replika...fondly. "When you scaled the tower, slaughtered her minions, put out the witch-queen's eye, and then wrung the life out of her with your bare hands!"

The replika froze. Her heart skipped a beat.

Elster shivered. "...n-no..."

"...you asked me my name before, didn't you?" the Bloodletter said, tilting her head to the side. Sighed through her nostrils. Held a hand out, palm up. "Before you take my head, and send me back home, you should know." She leaned forward fractionally, feeling the energy field tickle her throat, drawing blood as crimson skin disintegrated slightly. "It is your right."

The replika backed away, the dire implications hitting her like a ton of bricks. "...no, no, no, no, no..."

"...my name...is Il'stair Tyrantstrangle...mother."

Chapter 95: Snap, Back to Reality

"...Ellie...please..."

Ariane, cheek and hands pressed against the window of her glass prison, looked on in horror.

Knelt in a shallow sea of scarlet, Elster wrapped her hands around the devil's neck.

But it wasn't a devil. It was the Great Revolutionary's Daughter.

The old woman turned her head, blood flowing from an empty socket.

"...t-t-traitor..." said the Founder, regarding Ariane with cold, impassive judgment.

Elster, face contorted in rage, horns jutting from her head and skin stained blood red, tightened her grip around the woman's neck. Teeth clenched.

Somewhere above, three lights that burned like furnaces hung in the sky. Regarding all three figures triumphantly.

Ariane, tears running down her face, screamed.

"ELLIE NO!"

---

Fsst.

Blue light disappeared.

"...what?"

Replikas, already paralyzed by their mother's rage and the revelations subsequent, stared speechless. "..."

"...wh-what are you doing!?"

The collection of Khorne daemons, assembled around the duel of champions, ceased all noise. Glowing ember eyes wide, their spirits in freefall after reaching the height of anticipation.

Elster drew the sword back, and turned around. Buried her wounded face in her hand. "..."

The Bloodletter, hand clutching her arm stump, blinked. Il'stair Tyrantstrangle scowled, trembling with mounting rage. "Wh-where are you going, mother!?"

Elster barred her teeth. Yelled without looking. "I'm not your...!"

Her hand trembled. She looked down at her scarlet-slick palm.

At the hand that strangled the life out of the Great Revolutionary's Daughter. At the hand that...impressed a Dark God so much, it birthed a daemon.

A sickening knot formed in her stomach. Elster blanched. "..."

Somewhere to her left, a collection of daemons overcame their confusion, and began to roar in outrage.

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

The replikas on the sideline shifted uneasily, the daemons across the way growing increasingly more agitated.

"Mom!" Double Tap said, pointing at the daemons. "I think we have a problem."

"Elster!" Il'stair barked, stalking after the replika commander. She stooped and picked up her chipped and damaged Hellblade. "Come back here and take my head!"

"No," Elster said, flatly. She turned her head fractionally. "I don't kill...my own...children..." Her voice faltered at the last part, her hands still trembling. "I can't..."

"Wait, are you serious!?" Artemis shouted, gesturing with a chainsword. "It's a fucking daemon! It's probably lying! And even if it wasn't..."

"Elster Five One Two!" Il'stair screamed, brandishing her Hellblade aggressively. Fuming, seething, malding. Demanding her mother's attention like a petulant child. "I will kill every one of them, if you don't-!"

"Rragh! Ruff! Ruff!"

Flesh Hounds bayed loudly, struggling against their handlers.

But they weren't barking toward the replikas.

"Gah!" Helga grunted, from her perch around a corner of the workshop. She fell over from a force slamming into back.

Crash!

Everyone stopped, eyes looking over at the fallen Schnapper.

"Ooh...wh-what the...?" she groaned. Put her hands under her and rose slightly.

Hooves silently tread the floor past the Schnapper. Black hands clenched a pair of hand weapons.

Ram skull turned. Pinpricks of light regarded the gathering from within black, hollow eye sockets.

Regarded with utmost malice.

"...the fuck is that?" Artemis said, breaking the silence.

"...And he that went before now came last...!" the Claw of Malal bellowed, spreading its weapons out to either side.

The collected Khorne daemons, their bodies trembling, loosed their frustrated bloodlust upon the new arrival. They roared, brandishing weapons.

Flesh Hounds, barking and whimpering in equal measure, charged the skull-headed daemon with a vigor born of desperation. Claws scratching and fangs dripping with saliva. They lunged.

"...and that which was WHITE...!" the Claw spat, twisting to the side. With a single swing, it caved one Flesh Hound's head in with its mace. "...and BLACK...!" It twirled, ducking a leap and slicing the throat of another beast. "...and all direction was thrown against itself!"

The Bloodletters charged, Hellblades raised and tongues lolling. They thirsted for the black blood dripping from scratches and bruises on the Claw's arms and shoulders.

"Blood for the Blood God!" they bellowed in defiance. "Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

"D-dammit!" Il'stair seethed, lone hand shaking. Unable to decide between Elster, her children, or the daemon of malice in their midst. Eyes darted between them furiously. "...m-mother!"

Elster hardly heard her. She stared at the new arrival. "...what is...?"

"Grown mightily indignant at the words of the GODS...!" the Claw growled, a blur of black and white movement amid a sea of red. It struck out, shattering a Bloodletter's horn. "...Malal did turn his heart AGAINST them...!" With each swing of short sword or mace, another crimson daemon maimed, crippled, or killed outright. Bones crunched and cuts wept black smoke. It roared its gospel, heedless of blades biting deep in its ebony meat. "...and FLED into the chambers of SPACE...!"

"...Malal...?" Elster whispered, eyes widening.

Her mind raced back to earlier. When the name first buzzed through static from her radio. From the creature that spared Maria.

A name even other daemons feared.

"Mother!" Il'stair yelled, swiping a cut across the replika's left shoulder, by way of getting the woman's attention. "Are you listening?"

"Mom!" Artemis yelled, charging forward. "Get away from her!"

"Ow!" Elster hissed, then rounded on the daemon. Instead of rejoining the fight, Elster stepped in close and seized the daemon's shoulders. "Il'stair!"

Both the daemon and Artemis froze, nonplussed.

"...eh?" Il'stair said, blinking.

"Who, or what, is Malal?" Elster said, furrowing her brow at the daemon. "Tell me!"

Il'stair recoiled, stepping out of the replika's grip. "I-I can't tell you that! You shouldn't even be asking that question!"

"The fuck is going on!?" Artemis said, looking between the two figures, and the mounting massacre in the workshop.

A broken Bloodletter sailed over their heads, crashing against a blood-dripping wall. Limbs shattered, flesh cut to ribbons.

"Tell me!" Elster shouted at the daemon.

"I. Can't!" Il'stair shouted, trembling. "Khorne won't let me! No one can talk about the Renegade Go-!"

"Blade of the Arkifane!"

Elster stepped back, as the Claw shoved a sputtering, bleeding Bloodletter aside and charged.

"Servant of the Soul Forges," it cried, before locking blades with Il'stair as she dove in front of the replika. "You must die!"

"No!" Il'stair roared, sparks alight in front of her face as weapons clashed. "Won't...let you..."

"Wh-who are you!?" Elster yelled, furrowing her brow. She brandished her power sword. "Who is your master?"

"Blood for the Blood God..." Il'stair grunted, struggling one-handed against the might of the Claw. "Skulls...for the...ah!"

The Claw threw the Bloodletter aside, before stepping forward. White eyes like stars fixed on the replika commander. "...Elster...Blade of the..."

"Get away from her!"

Brrrrrr!

Artemis brought a buzzing chainsword down. The Claw knocked it away.

Then, Dash and Double Tap ran forward, grabbing the Claw's arms. They dragged it back, as it struggled against the taller, united opponents.

"Ngh! Death!" the Claw grunted, trying to reach Elster through brute force. "Death to the Dark Gods, and all their servants! DEATH!"

"Who is Malal!?" Elster yelled, holding her sword ready. Thumbed it to life, bathing the daemon's white skull blue.

"No...don't ask it..." Il'stair grunted, planting her battered sword in the floor and trying to rise.

The Claw, staring into Elster's eyes, ceased struggling.

"...and no man looked to Malal then," it said, voice low and hoarse, "save those that serve that which they hate, who smile upon their misfortune, and who bear no love, save for the damned..."

Elster gritted her teeth, a cold sweat on her brow. "What. Does that. Mea-!"

 

Lights flared. Text scrolled down the screen at lightning speed.

The Warp Engine arced with electricity. Pistons pumped, plasma flared.

At Diodana's signal, Petunia thumbed on the microphone.

"Emergency Translation in Drei...Zwei...Eins...GO!"

 

The world dropped out from under them.

Overhead lights shut off completely, before flickering back on. Their eyes popped, and vision swam.

"Ah! What the fuck!?" Dash barked.

Elster blinked. "..."

Her children, previously restraining a daemon, staggered, clutching their heads. They looked down, confused.

Their mother looked around. Where previously the walls of the workshop ran red with blood, now they were bare and clean.

She looked down at her scarlet-stained hands. Then at the floor.

The Bloodletter - Il'stair Tyrantstrangle - gone. The Claw of Malal - the Renegade God - gone. The cleaved and broken bodies of Khornate daemons, gone.

As she turned to watch her many other children file tentatively into the room, a static sound came in from above. Many replikas flinched.

Ding.

"Achtung, replikas," Diodana said, over the intercom. "Emergency translation successful. We have returned to Realspace. Crew may be at ease, for we are safe once more. Praise the Omnissiah!"

---

"Ellie! Stop it! ELLIE! EL-"

Ariane sat bolt upright, and promptly banged her head on the padded roof of her bunk.

"Gah!" she hissed, laying back and clapping hands over her forehead. Vision filled with stars. "Ssss...aaaah! Sshhhit!"

The gestalt rolled over on her side, tentatively cracking open one eye. Still panting and sweating, Ariane rubbed her head and felt the vacant sheets beside her. "...wh-...hah...ooh...hah...where...?"

She gingerly sat up again, placing a hand firmly on the roof to avoid another mishap. Looked around.

The room was still dark. Emergency lights lit the floor.

"...mmmrrr..." Ariane groaned, rubbing her aching head again. "...fuck...just a dream...a dream..."

Legs hanging over the side of the bed, she sighed. Hugged herself. Brushed a lock of white hair from her face.

Hesitantly, she toed the cold floor, and stood.

"Brr..." she shivered. "What time is it?"

Slipping her uniform on, the gestalt clad her cold feet in a shoe. Standing, Ariane walked to the door.

As the door slid open, she paused. Pressed a hand to the doorframe.

Given the hour, Elster would still be asleep in the pod, wouldn't she?

"..." Ariane thought about her dream. A shiver ran up her spine. Pursing her lips, she hugged herself against the 'night' period chill, and walked through.

She was wide awake.

"Fuck it. I want to see her."

---

"...st-...-ith m-..."

Muffled voices. Beeps. The feeling of cold breeze on warm insides.

Bleary eyes cracked open. Winced at the overhead lights. "...hnnh...?"

"I said 'stay with me'!" Elster yelled, dried oxidizing fluid caking her face, beneath a long cut hastily stitched shut. Mouth obscured by a medical mask. Her eyes darted down to the Star's chest.

The Star blinked. Spied blurry silhouettes rush around in her peripheral vision.

"...guts are sewn up," came Heidi's voice, from somewhere nearby. "Get her closed and to another bed. Next!"

A door slid open.

"We got here as fast as we-OH EMPRESS!"

"Good, get over here!" Elster barked, turning her head. She looked down gravely. "Her ox-organ's fucked. Breach, I need you to..."

A heart monitor began to blare.

The Star's vision swam again. "...hnn..."

"SCHEISSE!" Elster growled. "Dammit, Kite, don't die on me!"

"...ugh..." Kite groaned, resting her eyes. Darkness settled over her again.

"Stay with me, baby! Stay wi-...!"

 

"Come on, where is it!?"

Pages rustled. Breath fogged a sheet of plastic. Water sprayed from hoses.

Two figures in sealed environment suits furiously sprayed the giant inside the decontamination cordon, hastily erected next to the door to Hydroponics.

"Please!" Jenny said fearfully from behind her faceplate. "Save Rose, not me!"

"I'm trying!" Isis cried, knelt on the floor outside the plastic sheet. In her lap, the tome of medical magic granted by the Thousand Sons Apothecary.

On the reverse side, upper body supported by an overturned plastic bucket, Rose knelt. Her face green and covered in soot. Her red hair drenched in water, her body naked. Oxide red robes already cast into the fire, too tainted to risk keeping.

"Hgn..." Rose groaned, mechadendrites jutting from her back helping her shift on the bucket. She cast a glance to her sister. Chicory, similarly stripped and doused, lay in state on the plastic-covered floor. Arms crossed over her chest, face covered in a rag. Rose extended a mechadendrite to caress the outline of her sister's cheek. Her arthritic arms could barely move.

"Just...give me a second, Rose," Isis said, gritting her teeth. Eyes scanning pages as she flipped through rapidly. "I can...I just..."

"Isis..." Rose wheezed, turning her head. "'s okay...I...you don'...hafta...worry 'bout...me..."

"Where is it...?" the Kolibri said, running fingers through her hair furiously. Gritted her teeth. She flipped forward, then back. "Where's a cure for this!?"

Page 308 to 309.

The Kolibri flinched, sitting at attention. She looked over her shoulder, at the ceiling. "...y-you..." she started, before quickly looking down to the tome. Fingers flipped quickly, checking page numbers. "Mik...why help me?" she said under her breath.

Oh thee of little faith, Mik'hul chuckled across the aethereal wind. What kind of servant of Tzeentch would I be if I didn't offer a little hope? Plus, I'm not about to hand Nurgle another win, am I?

A red finger traced the page, eyes scanning each line.

"G-got it!" Isis cried. She fumbled at her bag, pulling out a black permanent marker. Laying the tome on the ground, the Kolibri drew a circle beneath her. Took out candles and hastily set them burning all around.

"..." Rose watched the preparations blankly.

Finally, Isis sat down, studying the book one last time. "Rose, put your palm against the plastic for me."

"...'ll try..." Rose coughed, weakly raising her arm. Painfully bent her fingers, one by one, until her palm could sit somewhat flat against the plastic sheet.

Isis gently grabbed the Ara's hand through the plastic, working fingers back. With one hand holding it in place, she sketched an arcane symbol on the plastic over Rose's palm. "Okay...hold my hand and don't let go..."

"..." Rose huffed in assent, lethargy and arthritic pain meaning she couldn't pull it away even if she wanted to.

Isis clasped Rose's hand through the plastic, the glyph sandwiched between their palms.

She began to mutter an incantation.

Hosing done, Jenny and the sanitation team stood. Eyes fixed on the ritual. Shivering with anticipation.

"...please..." Jenny whined, pressing a giant hand to her faceplate. Her lower lip quivered. Heart raced. "...please don't die..."

The Kolibri's mouth ran a mile a minute. Eyes fixed on the tome in her lap.

"..." Rose stared, mouth parched. Unable, much less unwilling, to interrupt by speaking. She wouldn't know what to say.

Somewhere along the way, Isis locked eyes with the Ara. Her mouth rising in volume and intensity, words vibrating in her throat.

Her bobcut hair flared, as did the candle flames.

"Hhnn!" Rose inhaled sharply, eyes widening. A shiver ran through her body. Warmth settled into chilled bones, and air rushed through her lungs. Long red hair stood on end for a moment, as her body writhed invisibly with power.

"Haah!" Jenny gasped, raising her fists expectantly. "Is it...?"

At the final syllable from Isis, the candles flared bright, then spontaneously snuffed out. Smoked wafted around the Kolibri in Fibonocci whirls, as she released the Ara's hand.

"Gah!" Rose coughed, arching her back. She wheezed, hacking up an entire gout of slime from her throat. It spattered messily to the floor. She pushed herself to her hands and knees, feeling a sudden strength in her muscles and looseness in her joints. "Gck...hck...ngh..."

"Rose!" Jenny gasped, stepping carefully over. Drenched in water, the Mynah stooped and placed giant hands on the Ara. Rose allowed herself to be lifted to a sitting position. "A-are you okay?"

"Hhnn...hah...ow...fuck..." Rose panted, taking deep breaths through her nose. Leaned her head back, luxuriating in cleared sinuses. "...oh..." She lifted her hand, fingers popping audibly as she flexed. "...I'm...healed..."

"Oh, thank the White Mother!" Jenny cried, hugging the Ara gently from behind. "I didn't want to lose you too!"

The sanitation workers gasped, looking between the two on the ground, and the Kolibri.

Isis, panting and doubled over, looked up at the Ara and Mynah. She smiled.

...I suppose...I should thank you..., she thought, turning her head fractionally and looking sidelong at the ceiling.

Like I said, Mik'hul thought, smugly, I'm just doing my job. Although if you really want to thank me, I've got all kinds of contracts that could make you a really great heale-

Not a chance in hell.

 

"You're safe! Oh Empress, you're both safe!"

Three bodies pressed against one another. Arms hugged tight.

Even sank to her knees, Double Tap buried her face first into Petunia's magenta hair, then into Trinity's auburn locks. Kissed them both.

"I thought you were going to die!" Trinity cried, tears running down her face. She craned her neck and kissed the Star on the chin. "I thought you were both going to die! Whaagh!" she kissed Petunia on the forehead.

"Ngh..." Petunia whined, burying her face in the crook of Double Tap's neck. Her hand rose and weaved into Trinity's hair, stroking her scalp. "...bad dogs...very bad dogs..."

"I know, oh Empress, I know," Double Tap said, tearing up herself. She rocked them all back and forth. "I'm so sorry I was so slow getting to you, Pet!" She gasped, kissing Trinity's head again. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, Trin! I should've..."

"Shut up, you idiot!" Trinity sobbed, patting the Star on the head. She shut her eyes and sniffed sharply. "Just...just hold us!"

"Love you," Petunia said, voice hitched in her throat. She took a sharp breath. "Love you both."

"I love you both too!" Double Tap cried, hugging them even harder.

The three cried and rocked in place, knelt on the ground.

Nearby, Diodana personally had her metal hands inside Tulip's open chest cavity.

"Apologies, ARAR-N0...Tulip," Diodana said, struggling to keep her voice even. Hands sewed intestines back together, amid a mass of methodically cleared medical foam. "I...I left you without medical aid. Surrounded by all manner of..."

"Teacher," Tulip said, placing her hand on the tech adept's arm. "It needed to be done. We might all have died, without emergency translation." She forced a frown. "I should have done it faster, the moment the danger manifested, before the daemon could appear."

"You could not have known," Diodana said, shaking her head. "None of us could have known."

"..."

They were silent for a minute, while the gestalt removed another layer of foam and immediately clamped an oozing laceration on the Ara's oxident organ.

"...your blood substitute tissues are salvageable," Diodana commented. "You will require rest. But a transplant should not be necessary."

Tulip nodded. She looked to the side, then up to her teacher. "...I heard from Rose about Chicory."

"..." Diodana paused, only a moment, before recommencing surgery. "Yes. I...we have lost many students today, haven't we?"

Tulip covered her face, lamenting she couldn't cry. "...it hasn't hit me, yet."

"Take it as a blessing," Diodana said, nodding. "There will be yet more work in the days to come...though, again, not for you directly."

"...Rose said Chicory insisted this whole voyage was hell," Tulip said, rubbing her eyes. There were no tears, but her eyes ached nonetheless. "Should we have never come out here?"

"Regardless of should or would, we have," Diodana said, a mechadendrite snipping extraneous thread. A quick spray of disinfectant. She lifted the Ara's ribcage and set it in its place. "To dwell on counterfactuals only brings misery."

"...but should we keep going on this voyage?" Tulip said, handing her teacher the electric drill.

"..."

Diodana set a screw on the magnetized bit and slid it into the ribcage socket.

"To be determined."

 

"I'm not coming out! I'm not!"

Diligent, tired hands disconnected power feeds. The bank of security screens winked out. Sparks ceased to shoot from within burst CRT monitors.

"You have to!" Vanessa said, bags under her eyes. "We're back in Realspace! It's perfectly safe!"

"No!" Maria cried, legs curled against her chest. Hooves tucked inside a hastily scrawled circle of scarlet script. She looked up, face contorted in obstinate terror. "I-I can't! I-"

Slap!

Rue flinched, looking up from her work. She furrowed her brow. "..."

Vanessa pulled her hand back. "Maria! Get out of that circle right now!"

"Ah!" Maria clapped a hand on her stinging face. "V-Vanessa..."

The eldest Eule frowned, all fire draining from her body. She looked down at her hand horrified, then to her younger sister. "I-I'm sorry, Maria! I..."

Reluctantly, Maria took Vanessa's offered hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her hooves. As she stood, rubbing her cheek, hand holding Vanessa's, she suddenly blushed.

"Eh?" Vanessa said, looking her sister in the eyes. "What? What's-?"

"Nothing!" Maria said, pulling back her hand and looking sharply away. Even in profile, she couldn't hide the beet red color on her face. "W-we can...g-go..."

Vanessa frowned, looking her sister up and down.

Her instinct, seeing the uncomfortable girl hug herself, was to let it go. But Vanessa was the eldest Eule. It was her responsibility to keep her sisters safe and healthy. Right?

"...Maria..." Vanessa said, firmly. "...did...something happen?"

"...I..." Maria said, eyeing her sister furtively. She looked away, rubbed her arms. "I...was attacked by daemons. Th-they tried to kill me...or...one of them did...I think...the skull-headed one...kind of saved me?"

Rue, half-turning to leave, looked back over curiously. Her eyes met Maria's. "..."

"No, I mean...what happened specifically?" Vanessa said, reaching out with intent to gently touch her sister's shoulder.

Maria blushed harder and moved her shoulder away. "I don't! ...want...to talk about it, okay?" She covered her face with her hand, face contorted in...shame? "N-not right now...not...to you..."

"Eh?" Vanessa frowned. She turned, making eye contact with Rue.

"..." Rue shrugged, then eyed Maria again.

"..." Maria eyed Rue through her splayed fingers. Took furtive glances at her elder sister. Rubbed her sore cheek.

"...let's...just get you out of here," Vanessa said, waving toward the door. "I...won't touch you, if you don't want...and I'm sorry again for hitting you."

"I-it's okay," Maria said, weakly. She nodded, walking to the door. Made eye contact with Rue one last time, before she ducked warily out the door. Looked both ways, as if expecting more infernal assailants.

"..." Rue looked at Vanessa, then returned to her work.

Vanessa pressed a fist to her sternum pensively. Her other hand wrapped around a lock of straw-colored hand, and tugged.

For a woman whose job was to tend to her sisters' mental health and wellbeing...she felt terribly out of her depth.

 

"You don't need to baby me."

All around, crew carefully disconnected sparking monitors and control stations. The blast doors rolled up, revealing an infinite sea of stars.

Strong hands hugged the Eule from behind.

"...be that as it may," Dash said, rubbing her girlfriend's shoulders, "I'm going to anyway. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"...can you...at least hug me from the front?" Samantha said, squirming in the Star's grasp.

"O-okay," Dash said, lifting her arms away. As the Eule turned around and hugged her back, she embraced again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I...the ceiling just...sprouted arms, is all," Samantha said, burying her face in the Star's armored chest. "Or...maybe it was the floor, and gravity was reversed? All I know is, they were grabbing me from behind and trying to drag me up."

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Dash said, her voice cracking. She hugged harder. "I should have..."

"Don't be," Samantha said, rubbing the Star's back. Turned her head, so one cheek pillowed against the armor. "I'm fine. Just...hold me."

"I can do that," Dash nodded, leaning down and kissing her girlfriend's head.

"Oh fuck..."

The two looked over. An Ara stood beside a body as it was being hauled away on a stretcher. The haulers waited, as Hyssop raised the cloth and studied the cadaver.

"..." Hyssop frowned, allowing the cloth to drop. She watched them take it away, a hand covering her mouth. "Poor Theodora..."

"Oh, Hyssop, I'm sorry," Samantha said, turning in Dash's embrace to look over at the Ara and the retreating stretcher. "I know she meant a lot to you."

"Yeah...I'm sorry we couldn't save her," Dash said.

Hyssop furrowed her brow. "What? I mean, we worked here together sometimes, but not on the same shift. I don't..."

"Oh...sorry," Samantha said, frowning uneasily. "I thought..."

"Thought what?" Hyssop said, looking between Samantha and the stretcher exiting the bridge. Expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

"Oh...shit," Dash breathed, averting her eyes.

"...oh...Theo didn't tell you?" Samantha said, covering her mouth.

"...tell me what?" Hyssop said, growing more agitated. She leaned forward, hand reaching down to fidget with her zipper.

"Hyssop..." Samantha said, frowning. Eyebrows furrowing in dismay. "Most of the Eule dorm knew. Theodora had a crush on you."

"..." Hyssop stared, expression impassive. She looked toward the door, the body long vacated. Pressed fingers to her lips. "...oh..."

"Hyss, I'm sorry," Dash said, unable to look at the Ara. She hugged her girlfriend, feeling the tension in the Eule's chest as she started to cry vicariously.

"...oh Omnissiah..." Hyssop said, slumping into a control station chair and staring at the floor. "..."

Even other crewmembers working to repair the bridge grew silent.

"..."

 

Brush. Brush. Brush.

Soapy water sloshed in metal bucket. Pushed forward. A brush dunked in.

Brush. Brush. Brush.

From behind a rebreather mask, the Ara sighed.

Over the Noosphere, her sister chimed in.

"[Rue. Please. I'm tired.]"

"[Then go to bed]," Rue returned, eyes locked on the bottom of the vent. She shuffled forward, scrubbing the brush deep into the metal. "[You need it more than I.]"

"[How long are you going to keep cleaning?]" Violet messaged.

Rue's eyes looked up. Stared down the ventilation shaft. Studied the lewd graffiti smeared in unnameable brown fluids all across its walls, written upside-down.

"..." She sighed.

"[Until it's safe.]"

 

Boop. Boop. Boop.

"Hnnh...?"

The Star's eyes fluttered open. She looked around, blinking at the harsh overhead lights. Eyed the heart monitor at her side, beeping softly.

"Oh, you're awake."

Kite turned her head to the left with difficulty. "...Br-...Breach?"

"Hey, sis," Breach whispered, sitting on a chair by the side of the bed. She pressed a finger to her lips. "Maybe keep it down. A lot of girls are trying to sleep."

Kite watched her younger sister point down. She cocked an eyebrow, seeing Ishtar slumped at Breach's hooves, hugging her midsection, head in the Star's lap. Drool dripped from her mouth, onto Breach's thigh.

"..." Kite blinked, then nodded. "...why...are you...?"

Breach picked up a pair of intertwined tubes running from a hole bored in her chestplate. The clear plastic ran red with a continuous stream of oxidizing fluid running either direction. "Your oxident organ's shot. With so many injured and Rose stuck in quarantine, Elster needed a fast solution to get you stable." She smiled, stifling a giggle. Shrugged. "I was the only Star not committed to some other task, so..."

Kite's fingers traced the tubes from where they crested the edge of the medical bed, over to where they slipped into a hole drilled in her own chestplate. "...please...tell me..." she whispered, "...this is temp'ry..."

"It is, don't worry," Breach whispered, smiling. She stroked her girlfriend's head affectionately. "Mom just needs to rest, and for everything to get cleaned up. There's already an ox-organ in storage with your name on it."

Shing.

Breach looked up. "Oh, hey Mer-"

"You're awake!"

As Breach desperately tried to shush the new arrival, Kite turned her head. "...Meryl?"

"You idiot!" Meryl whispered angrily, running to Kite's right side. She balled her fist and gritted her teeth. Blue bangs flopped low over her eyes. "What were you doing, being so reckless! You...you...!"

"I wasn't being..." Kite breathed, trying to get up. The Eule pushed her back down on the bed angrily. "Ow...be gentle...eh?"

Droplets of salty liquid plinked on the metal railing of the bed. Balled fists shook.

"...haah...y-you...you idiot..." Meryl sobbed, hunched over. Face contorted in pain and dripping tears. "Y-you could have d-died...and then where would I be?"

"...Mer..." Kite said, widening her eyes. She raised a hand weakly, patting the Eule's fists. "I'm just...a hopeless fuckgirl...you have plenty of partners..."

"You're not...!" Meryl started to raise her voice. With a panicked shush from Breach, she wiped her eyes and whispered, "...you're not...just a fuckgirl, Kite. I..."

She shook her head, and frowned at the injured Star. "I...I love you, Kite. I've loved you for years, you...big idiot..."

"..." Kite frowned. "...Meryl..."

Slowly, weakly, she raised her hand and touched the sobbing Eule's face. Thumbed away a tear.

Kite smiled. "...so...all it took was almost dying to finally get that confession? Should have let myself get stabbed earlier..."

"K-Kite!" Meryl sobbed, as the dam broke. She drummed the Star's shoulder and sternum weakly with her fists. "You idiot! You idiot!"

"Okay, okay! Ow!" Kite chuckled, seizing the Eule by the wrists. "Stop."

They looked at each other, then leaned in. Their lips locked together.

No longer merely friends with benefits. Now...girlfriends.

"..."

Breach looked around awkwardly, blushing. Turned away, to avoid being the non-optional third wheel.

"...ngh..." Ishtar snorted, shifting in her sleep. Smiling in her girlfriend's lap.

Chapter 96: In Nacre on a Stone, Alone, Unfaceted and Fine

"Diodana...was there anything I could have done to prevent this?"

The Warp engine hummed in the background. In the next room, half a dozen Aras poured over the disassembled Geller Field Generator. Inspecting each part for defect, and anointing them with holy oils. Purified the system, to placate undoubtedly displeased machine spirits. Incense and the sounds of Binaric prayer wafted in from the open door.

Replika and gestalt sat side by side, looking up at the colossal machine. Eyes drawn again and again to the tech adept's previous apprentices, their skulls built into the system itself.

The skulls of Chicory, Marjoram, and Clary, newly cleaned, sat on pillows set to the side. Ready to be incorporated into the Geller Field Device, once reassembly began.

"Negative," Diodana said, flatly. "Certainly, the Geller Field Device could have received more regular maintenance. But we adhered to the schedule to the letter. Moreover, if that were the problem - and we've yet to find evidence of this - it is the fault of myself and my students. You carry no blame in that score, LSTR-512."

"What if I didn't choose this path?" Elster said, head in her hands. "This...diversion. This minor errand we were heading to. What if I just took us straight home?"

"Must I warn you, once again, against the perils of counterfactual thinking?" Diodana sighed, patiently. "Not only did you have no way of knowing the Geller Field would suffer this irregularity, it's an event that likely would have occurred even if you elected to direct our course back to Eusan. Or, indeed, anywhere else."

"Circe says the Warp around here is unexpectedly turbulent," Elster said. "Like we've stopped ourselves inside a wild current we couldn't see." She raised her head, peeking through her fingers. "Couldn't we have seen it coming? Avoided it? By going here, did I not-?"

"LSTR-512, please stop," Diodana said, four photo-receptors turning to the replika commander. "These hysterics are unproductive."

"How do you know?" Elster growled, looking up. She grimaced in frustration and pain. "I just lost so many of my children! My babies! Again!"

"And I lost my students," Diodana said, raising her voice slightly, but keeping it firm and even. "Students I've known exactly as long as you, LSTR-512. They are, by all accounts, my children also."

"..." Elster made to rise, to shout, but bit her tongue. Sank into her seat, face in her hands again. "...I...Dio, I'm sorry..."

"Apology accepted," Diodana nodded. She looked forward again. "...Elster...I must remind you of something. Is this permitted?"

"...go ahead..." Elster groaned, voice muffled by her hands.

"...Elster...my friend..." Diodana said, inclining her head fractionally toward the replika, "...until this moment, you have been exceedingly lucky. Remember this. When our journeys across the stars began, all those years ago, I elucidated, in detail, the dangers and odds that come with Warp travel."

"..."

"The Imperium and Mechanicum long ago accepted as given that ships going missing in the Warp was, quite simply, inevitable. Failure of the Geller Field is not mere a possibility. Over a long enough timeframe and wide enough pool of vessels, it is a virtual certainty." Diodana studied the Warp Drive that dominated the room. "While some in my profession will try to assuage their fears, insisting such disasters were exclusively the province of tech priests who failed in their duties to maintain the blessed machines and placate the machine spirits...it is ultimately not so convenient as that. We do not have nearly so much control, even in our failures. Sometimes...through no fault on anyone's part...a voidship is simply...lost with all hands. To reappear long after, its crew annihilated, the ship itself a derelict, set to wander the cosmos. Such is where Space Hulks come from."

Elster sat up, staring at the Warp Drive. She looked bleary-eyed at the gestalt. "...can it really be so simple? That such a disaster can just...happen?"

"Depressingly, disasters happen, regardless of our wish that it be the result of some grand conspiracy or fatal mistake," Diodana said, nodding. "Sometimes, small causes lead to massive effects. Like a split atom cascading into a nuclear firestorm. I recommend against tormenting yourself over events outside of your control."

"..." Elster leaned her head back and shut her eyes. Let the incense waft across her nose. Listened to her children and grandchildren dutifully perform holy maintenance.

She frowned. "...Dio...I wouldn't exactly call myself an ardent follower of divinity."

With the exception of Ariane, of course, Elster thought. My goddess.

Diodana turned her head fractionally to the replika. "...elucidate?"

"The only gods I know for fact exist are the Dark Gods of Chaos, who we can both agree are unworthy of worship," Elster said, massaging her temple. "I can't say I truly...buy in to your religion. In the Machine God, machine spirits, Omnissiah, or Motive Force."

"This I know, yes," Diodana nodded. "You are approaching a point?"

Elster leaned forward. Steepled her fingers, gravely. "...I say this because I'm at a low point in my life." She turned her head fractionally to the tech adept. "And I really, really want the Nomarch to work correctly."

Glowing green photo-receptors flickered. For Diodana, the equivalent of a blink. She sat up slightly. "LSTR-512...Elster...do you wish me to lead you in prayer to the Machine God?"

"Just this once," Elster said, shutting her eyes. "I don't guarantee I'll make a habit of it."

Somewhere, behind her respirator, Diodana of Mars smiled.

"Very well. Let us pray."

---

"...Elster?"

Pale hands pressed against the calibration pod. Red eyes stared through the glass.

A coffin of metal and glass, unmistakably active. Lowered and horizontal, its doors closed.

Yet, no matter how hard she looked, the gestalt couldn't see her girlfriend and sole traveling companion within.

"Elster!" Ariane said, looking around. She called out. "Ellie? Are you here?"

She walked over to the wall panel hiding the LSTR unit lavatory and banged the surface, harder than she meant to. "Ellie? Are you in there? Answer me!"

No response.

"...Elster, I...I'm coming in!" Ariane said, heartbeat accelerating. She reluctantly depressed the hidden switch. It popped open with no effort, unlocked.

The sparse, closet-like toilet - smaller than her own, even accounting for lack of shower - empty.

"...eh?" Ariane quivered, ducking her entire head inside, checking every direction. As if the replika taller and broader than her could somehow hide in the tiny corners. "Elster?" she called, leaning out again. She paced Maintenance, checking around the small assemblage of storage crates and workbench set up to one side. "Elster!"

Her eyes roved over the tiny room, with such fixation on the familiar form of her ten-out-of-ten smokeshow girlfriend, she didn't notice a newspaper tucked behind a crate opposite the pod's door. Even though she looked with the paper in full view.

"..." Ariane ran to the pod again. Walked to the control panel and pressed buttons.

With a mechanical whine, the pod rotated to vertical. She waited at the front, holding her breath.

The doors swung open. The pod, as before, empty.

"..."

A knot formed in Ariane's stomach. She clutched her chest.

"...somewhere..." she breathed, rubbing her face. The gestalt looked at the floor and shook her head. "She's just somewhere else. Don't be stupid, Ari."

Taking a few cleansing breaths, Ariane circled the open pod and paced toward the door.

Shing.

"Elster!" she called out into the corridor.

"..."

Obviously, the gestalt reckoned, Elster got up early. And put the calibration pod down to perform some kind of maintenance. For all she knew, Elster did it because she woke up earlier than expected, and figured it needed tuning or repair.

"Elster!" Ariane called, walking to the ladder and looking up.

Surely, Elster was still on the ship. She couldn't NOT be there. There was nowhere to go.

As she jogged across the lower levels, calling to her girlfriend and receiving no immediate answer, she froze.

While there was nowhere to go...that didn't mean Elster couldn't leave.

There was the airlock.

"..."

Ariane dashed around to each storage room, banging on doorframes and calling. "Elster! Where are you!?"

After looking around each storage container, and in the observation room, Ariane dashed back to the ladder. Leaned on it, gasping heavily.

"...hah...hah...hah..."

Airlock. Airlock. Airlock.

"Elster!" Ariane yelled, frantically scaling the ladder.

It was a foolish assumption. Even if Elster wasn't downstairs, she was obviously just upstairs. Ariane simply hadn't seen her.

Right?

RIGHT!?

Her heart raced. She stumbled over the lip of the ladder onto the second level.

"ELSTER!"

---

"Put it down!"

Flicker of florescent lights. Hands clasped over wrists from behind. Glint off a knife. Oxidizing fluid dripped down a cheek.

"Let me go!" Sally cried, struggling feebly, gripping the blade in one hand. Eyes clasped shut. "I can't stand it!"

"Sally, please!" Myrtle yelled, towering a head taller than the Eule. "Put the knife down! You're hurting yourself!"

Tears in her eyes, Sally sucked air, and looked at herself in the mirror. At the weeping cut on her cheek.

The cheek still streaked with arcane script that hurt to look at. Even with her left eye replaced with a spare, she couldn't banish the memory of twin pupils from her mind.

"...hhh..." the Eule gasped, shutting her eyes again. She slackened in her girlfriend's grasp. "Please," she sobbed, voice low and raspy, "I can't...Myrtle, I can't..."

Slowly, as the two sank to the floor, Myrtle took the blade from the Eule's hand. It came loose with little difficulty. The Ara cast it aside, and hugged her girlfriend. "Shh...it's okay..."

"'s not okay!" Sally sobbed, burying the left side of her face in her hand. "I'm a freak! It's horrible!"

"You're not a freak," Myrtle said, flatly. She laced her fingers into Sally's. Brought the hand away from her face. "Be patient. When all the vital surgeries are done and we have the time, we'll grow you a new face. More new organs, too."

"Myrtle...I'm just so tired..." Sally whined, rocking back and forth in the Ara's arms. "I can't look at the stranger in the mirror anymore..."

The Eule squeaked, as the Ara spun her around and cupped the sides of her face in her hands.

"Then don't," Myrtle said, looking her girlfriend in the eyes. "Don't look in the mirror. Look at me, instead." She forced a smile. "The me that loves you, and always thinks you're beautiful."

Eyes wide and slick with tears, Sally sniffed. Her brows furrowed in pain. "...Myrtle..."

Her hand crept up, and raised the Ara's goofy swirl goggles. The Eule looked her girlfriend in the eyes.

With a sob, Sally embraced Myrtle. "Myrtle!"

The Ara shut her eyes, letting the Eule bury her face in her neck. "...there, there..."

Sally wept. Wept for her tarnished vanity.

Then, as if a dam ruptured, wept for the family she lost.

 

"...we will never forget you. Though you are gone, you're not forgotten."

Slow hoofsteps. Soft sobs. Suffocating silence.

The process of disinfecting the Green Deck, and sorting salvageable plants from tainted, remained ongoing. The few flowers undamaged from the hallway and dorm hydroponics had to be stretched. Mourners plucked individual petals, to cast them into funerary boxes.

Such boxes that existed anyway.

Bertha's chassis, at least, contained a blue-black dust residue. It would have to do, by way of remains that could be gathered. Whether it would be productive to create what were ostensibly ashes and essential salts was another matter.

It was only through process of elimination and psychometry that the puddle of flesh, inorganic slurry, and metal components was correctly identified as Irene. The Eule caught in a Flamer of Tzeentch's warping inferno.

Principally working laundry, Irene counted herself among a group of Eules who practiced ballet in their off hours. Attempted to recreate the entirety of Swan Lake from their collective gestalt memories, and books from Elster's library. Irene loved the scent of pine, and kept a reserve of such laundry detergent just for her own clothes.

An extra large box was set aside for her, as little could be salvaged, organic or otherwise. A bag of dried Calibanite pine needles, kept among her possessions, deposited with her, to meld with her ashes.

They prayed all semblance of awareness fled quickly when Irene was reduced to a souplike homogenate.

The real problem was Teasel. For want of better ideas, they propped Teasel's crystallized body up in the cafeteria. It couldn't be burned. Circe and Isis still held out hope the transformation might be reversed at some later date. Elster, Shahrazad, Hecate, Nimue, and Diodana had their doubts.

In any event, the statue would be consigned to storage, the matter shelved. Still, they owed Teasel a place of honor. Her body glinted beautifully in the overhead lights.

The Machine Mother watched as the last petals were cast into funerary boxes.

"May your souls rest, and be watched over by the Grand Empress, the Machine God, the White Mother, or whomever your souls cry out to. Just as your memory rests forever in our hearts, that cry out for you."

Elster looked out on the deceased. Seven boxes, and one statue.

On an intellectual level, she understood it to be an astoundingly low mortality rate, in light of a full-scale daemonic incursion. A miracle, even. That she should count herself fortunate in the extreme.

It did nothing to salve the pain of losing eight children. Eight of her precious babies, each a singular, irreplaceable life.

"...Bertha, Theodora, Chicory," she said, keeping her voice level as possible, "Irene, Doris, Marjoram, Clary...and Teasel..."

She took a ragged breath. Pressed a hand to her aching chest. Eyes wandered over the crowd.

Countless tear-stained faces. Those who couldn't cry, stared gravely and silently. Lent their shoulders to the despondent.

Elster turned, nodding.

Adler nodded in turn. "All rise."

Everyone stood. Those who could, took deep breaths and stifled their sobs. Those who couldn't were not blamed.

"...our beloved sisters, cousins, friends, lovers..." Elster said, swallowing. She extended a hand out to her massacred children. "...we convey you with due honors, and boundless love."

She thought of speaking of purifying flames, when she planned the speech. Then thought of Teasel and Irene, physically warped by change-fire, and thought better of it.

"We commend your remains, that you might be one with our love forever." Elster's chest heaved. Mouth screwed up. Voice cracked, as she said, "My brave, beautiful children. Go with grace and power. We love you, forever..."

Adler saluted. "Achtung!"

Everyone saluted in turn.

Elster saluted, sniffing. "Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!" called Hyssop, frowning.

"Auf Wiedersehen!" yelled the Schnappers and Mynah in unison.

"Auf Wiedersehen!" yelled Awe, her extra eyes uncovered for all to see. In solidarity with Teasel.

"A-auf Wieder-s-sehen!" stuttered Sally, a shroud covering her own scars. Barely able to look at Teasel, in her shame. Myrtle rubbed her shoulder from behind.

"Auf Wiedersehen!" yelled the Kolibris, in coordination. Hecate displayed her horns, making no effort to hide the daemon's touch.

"Auf Wiedersehen," Diodana whispered, "my students..."

"Auf Wiedersehen!" said Rose and Tulip together. Their thoughts on Chicory, and on her final sentiment.

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

As light glinted in the crystallized Ara's body, the assembled throng called together.

"AUF WIEDERSEHEN!"

 

"...look, I have an excuse this time, boss! Honest!"

Wherever the water came from, it vacated as readily as it arrived. The reactor room and surrounding corridor bone dry.

Hooves clacked on metal. Picked through the tangle of cables and wires connecting to the cloaking device.

Elster rubbed her puffy eyes. Sniffed.

"...I didn't come here for that," she croaked. "But by all means, explain why you thought trying to make Alice and Dorothy sell themselves to Tzeentch was okay? After I made my views, and what I'd do in response, very clear?"

Mik'hil shuddered. Rallying, he said, "Look, I wasn't lying to them about only being able to keep my 'cousins' at bay for so long. If the Khorne or Slaanesh daemons didn't get him, the Tzeentch ones would. You're lucky Nurgle's losers contented themselves in their confinement."

"..." Elster stared at the daemon. Glanced at the floor.

She couldn't argue against the visceral horror of Nurgle daemons loose on the ship. Her stomach squirmed.

"If they struck a deal, it would be like those Thousand Sons boys we're both so fond of, boss," Mik'hul continued, waving a tongue at her. "If you don't have protection from one of the Four, any Warp bastard will come to peel your face off and wear it like a festive hat. I was just giving your girls good terms."

"That just happened to benefit you personally?" Elster scowled, inclining her head forward fractionally.

"Don't know why you think I'd feel guilty about that," Mik'hul said. "I'm a daemon. It's what I do. Would you prefer if your girls died?"

Elster shut her eyes. Clutched her chest. Forced down a ragged intake of breath. "..."

I genuinely don't know which would be worse, she thought, desperately. I really am in a bad way...

"Let me put it this way, boss," Mik'hul said. "You couldn't blame your girls for accepting the pact, could you? For cutting a deal when their backs were against the wall, just to survive?"

"...no..." Elster breathed, rubbing her face. She sniffed, forcing herself to attention. "...no, I couldn't..."

"Then don't blame me for shooting my shot and trying to help them, okay?" Mik'hul smiled. "Besides, it didn't even happen, unfortunately for me. Fortunately for me, and them too, I got supper. So, win win."

Elster clenched her fist. Inhaled. Exhaled. "...yeah...that's actually what I wanted to talk about..."

Mik'hul flinched. "...ah...shit..."

Clack.

Elster leaned over Mik'hul, staring into his many eyes.

"You're going to tell me about those other daemons," Elster said, firmly. "About their master. Who is Malal?"

The daemon shivered. Sweat broke out all over his rippling, color-shifting flesh. "...wh-wh-wh-wh-what are ya talkin' about, boss? I don't know anything about...th-that..."

"You do," Elster said. It wasn't a question. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Three separate Chaos-aligned individuals I've met - the Sphiranx, YOU, and...my...murder-baby daemon daughter..." She shut her eyes and shuddered. "...have all shown clear signs of knowing it. But only the daemons running around with skulls for heads actually use his name. Only they are willing to talk about Malal."

A violent, full-body shudder. "S-s-st-stop saying that name!" Mik'hil said, raising his voice. He shivered. "Please, boss, don't let's talk about this, okay?"

"Who is he?" Elster insisted. "What is he? Why was I not informed an entire separate faction of Chaos is at play in the Warp?"

"I can't tell you!"

"Dammit, Mik'hul! Bertha is dead because of them!" Elster shouted. "Multiple others would be too, if they weren't lucky!"

"Boss! Listen to me!" Mik'hul said, holding tongues up plaintively. "I get it! But when I say I can't say, I'm not being hyperbolic! I'm not lying! This is a serious taboo subject among Chaos, folks who famously have no lines they won't cross, nor lows to which they won't sink!"

"..." Elster tilted her head to the side.

"Boss, I have three bosses. You, Vashtorr, and Tzeentch, in ascending order of power," Mik'hul said. "N-no offense. But two of those, the bigger two, both strictly forbid any talk about the...the Renegade. Okay?"

"The Renegade?" Elster muttered under her breath. She furrowed her brow.

"It's the same among all the other gods. Khorne, Slaanesh, Nurgle, Horned Rat. The King in Yellow, probably..." The daemon pointed a tongue at Elster. "None of us can discuss it. Least of all to YOU. I-"

"What?" Elster said, eyebrows rising fractionally. "Me?"

Mik'hul slapped tongues over his mouth, eyes wide. "..."

Elster turned around. Paced the room, picking between cables. "...why me? Why do the Chaos powers...or at least Vashtorr and Tzeentch, not want me learning about Malal?"

"Boss, please, stop!" Mik'hul cried, waving tongues, pleading. "I can't..."

He froze.

"...Mik'hul?" Elster said, shrinking in on herself.

The daemon began to vibrate. His yellow eyes formed black dots in their centers, that then dilated until nearly filling their orbs.

"...shhhhit!" Elster said, taking a step back. She clapped her hands over her ears.

Mik'hul's mouths opened, issuing forth a long string of infernal machine language.

"Ngh!" Elster groaned, consciously forcing the digital parts of her brain to NOT process the dial tones dumped into the room at full volume.

After a sustained minute, one of Mik'hul's mouths opened wide. The noise died down, as a trio of brass rings emerged from the fleshy well within the daemon-engine's gullet. Burning flame smouldered within their recesses. They exhaled, furnace-hot.

"..." Elster unstopped her ears, standing resolutely before her 'employer'. "...Dark Artificer."

"LSTR Five One Two," said Vashtorr the Arkifane, his voice like scraping metal, belching flames, and dripping oil. "You will terminate this line of inquiry, forthwith. It is verboten."

"No!" Elster barked, gritting her teeth. Face flushed. "One of my kids is dead because of Malal's-!"

"DO NOT UTTER THE NAME OF THE RENEGADE!" Vashtorr roared, a wave of heat rolling over the replika. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND? THIS IS A DIRECT ORDER!"

Elster backed up into the wall, sweat pouring down her face. She seethed with rage. Swallowing, she cast her eyes down. "...y-yes...Dark Artificer..."

The heat abated. "...Comprehend, servant, you tread dangerous ground. Even the Greater Intelligences of the Warp forbid speaking the Renegade's name."

"...why?" Elster whispered. "What makes it so forbidden? This...Renegade?"

"A subject likewise proscribed," the daemon demi-god said. "In answer to your forthcoming inquiry, you in specific are barred from such intelligence, because knowledge of the Renegade poses a particular risk of compelling you to act...unwisely."

Elster blinked. She leaned on the central pillar housing the cloaking device. "...unwisely?"

"Be content in knowing, servant, that your allegiance is already spoken for," Vashtorr said, as soft as his voice of infernal industry could go. "Nothing can the Renegade offer you, that can supply what you desire. Only I offer thus. What the Renegade proffers is incommensurate with the price. Leastwise if you dare alienate me, while I retain your woman as collateral. Understand?"

Slowly, Elster sank to the floor. Squatting in the jumble of cable, supporting herself on the pillar. Her body, flushed with adrenaline and run ragged both physically and emotionally, became drained in an instant. She shut her eyes, saying weakly, "...yes...I think so..."

This Renegade - this Malal, Hierarch of Anarchy and Terror - was so despised by the rest of Chaos, they actively collaborated on keeping it secret. Forces who barely worked together to empower Horus and his allies, take especial exception to it.

Did they find Malal abhorrent to them, somehow? Or...was it fear?

"Excellent." Vashtorr said. "Remember, servant. Maintain proper perspective. It was I who delivered you and Ariane Yeong from imprisonment. I who ward you against permanent death. Who retrieved and protect your Nation's neural archives, making your offspring possible. Who assigns agents to liberate and guide you to your objective. And I who safeguards your woman from the horrors of this galaxy." His voice rumbled paternally. "I remain your staunchest ally and eternal benefactor. In contrast to all competitors, I deal fairly with you. Invest your loyalty in ME, LSTR Five One Two, and not in loathsome Renegades. They offer naught but doom, madness, and an existence brutish and short."

"..."

She shielded her face with her hand. Eyes downcast, she clenched her teeth. Dug her fingers into the floor grate.

Her soul burned to understand. To know not only what the daemon demi-god would hide...but about the force that made even daemons tremble.

Would such a thing offer escape? Escape from her deal? Or, if not escape...the power to hurt Chaos?

"..." Elster sucked air, then exhaled. Relaxed her deathgrip on the grate. Sat and buried her face in her hands. She was so tired.

"...yes...Dark Artificer. I understand."

Just...drop it, she thought. Released a tension in her chest. We have more pressing things to worry about, right now.

"Excellent. Now. Since communication is presently open," Vashtorr said, "additional business. Desire you immediate visitation with your woman? You appear, presently...suboptimal."

"I..." Elster shook her head, burying her face in her knees. "I...need a bit of time. I just...need to get us to the next system. Or wherever we can make repairs. Time to sit, to think, to...heal. I can't visit Ariane, until we're safe. Just a bit more time, please..."

"Understood. Though this may prove more forthcoming than expected. The system you approach remains replete with...spare parts. Salvage, in innumerable, immeasurable quantity, ripe for harvest. In addition to the site of your assignment. For refurbishment, a highly profitable venture."

"Okay. Good," Elster nodded, rubbing her head. She raised puffy eyes. "...Dark Artificer...do you know why the Geller Field failed? Was it really just an accident?"

"As far as my considerable intelligence can surmise, affirmative," Vashtorr said, pensively. "As my servant, and one growing modest reputation, you naturally attract the forces of Chaos. Those on the Path To Glory seek either to recruit you, or improve their station by pitting themselves against you."

Elster shuddered. "...oh..."

Just being Vashtorr's pawn attracted daemons to the ship. But then, doing his bidding at all exposed her to danger. Had she wanted to avoid risks, she would have stayed in Eusan and rode out the war in relative peace.

"More pressing, this system you approach proves uniquely hazardous, vis a vis the Immatereum."

The replika's head shot up. "..."

"That which produces such a potent prize is the very mechanism that obscures. The Warp currents surrounding this system. For millennia, a veritable deathtrap. Both nigh impossible to reach intentionally, and nigh impossible to escape once ensnared. In answer to your immediate question, your access at all - ingress and egress - is predicated on the Ruinstorm. Disrupting Warp currents and opening previously inaccessible pathways."

"...but we're still slipping through dangerous tides," Elster said, staring at the floor, thoughtfully. Ran fingers through her hair. "It put more strain on the Geller Field than normal. Right?"

"Precisely. Unprepared, unwary, unequipped to compensate, and your Geller Field faltered. To exit your present inter-solar locale at all, lest you starve in the void, necessitates adaptation and vigilance. I possess utmost certainty of your capabilities in this regard, servant. You possess adequate tools already at your disposal."

Slowly, with great difficulty, Elster stood. Swayed on her hooves. She bowed her head. "...I understand. Thank you, Dark Artificer."

"Until subsequent communication, LSTR Five One Two," Vashtorr said, before the false face retreated into Mik'hul's body.

As the fire died in those three openings, Elster stared down at her hand.

She clenched it into a fist.

Just give me a little time, Ariane.

---

"...Ellie...where are you?"

Heavy breathing. Roar of heartbeat in her ears. Thump of magnetized boots on metal hull.

The gestalt whipped her head around, eyes straining through glass to spot a tiny patch of red or flesh, or a dark silhouette, amid an infinite sea of stars.

Ariane checked each room upstairs. Then each room downstairs again. After each pass, she checked suit storage, and even took the elevator down to the airlock.

Elster wasn't anywhere. She wasn't anywhere on the Penrose 512.

Both space suits were accounted for. Halfway through another check of the upper level, the formerly unthinkable consumed her.

No log existed in the ship's computer of a recent use of the airlock. Then again, Ariane couldn't even get the machine to tell her what Cycle they were on anymore. Could she trust it wasn't experiencing...some kind of memory leak? A glitch?

It was madness. To think Elster could accidentally...or purposefully...?

"Ellie!" she cried, heart racing. The rational part of her brain knew her voice could scarcely pierce the vacuum. Elster wouldn't hear, even if she wasn't already...

The gestalt turned around, and did a double take. "Ah!"

A starry abyss yawned in front of her. Its arrangement of stars unfamiliar, hanging perpendicular to the Penrose's flight path. Out of view of either Forward or Aft observation windows. With no business going on walks on the hull, the gestalt hadn't stared at that particular patch of space for years.

Yet, they were in principle very ordinary stars. Nothing stood out, not even a floating replika body.

Why, then, had it seemed like something colossal and sinister appeared, ever so briefly, in her peripheral vision?

"...hah...hah..." Ariane panted, staring at the stars. Her fingers shook violently. "...what...was...?"

A buzzing in her mind. Something was wrong. But she couldn't...it...

She shook her head, turning away. Checked the analogue gauge on her suit's arm-mounted panel. Ariane couldn't afford to waste precious oxygen. The tanks could be refilled, the carbon dioxide recycled. But she couldn't risk being caught out in the void with an empty tank. Not if the worst happened.

Ariane looked up. Cast her eyes around. Heard only her heavy breathing, and the beat of her heart. "..."

Slowly, she magnet-walked back to the airlock. Propped herself at the threshold, so she could look straight out. Strained her eyes.

If Elster somehow got out without her suit, she would almost certainly be within sight of the door.

Unless she kicked off, and drifted so far away Ariane couldn't see.

"..." Ariane clutched her helmet, panting. She shook her head, and entered the airlock again.

If Elster drifted beyond Ariane's sight, she was long gone. The gestalt would never find her.

She cranked the lever, closing the door behind her. Checked one last time through the shrinking gap, before the stars disappeared entirely.

At least if Elster remained inside, Ariane might yet find her.

"...please..." she whimpered, hugging herself. "...please be here somewhere. I don't...want to be alone again..."

As oxygen bathed her, and she reached up to remove her helmet, Ariane froze. Wondered, confused, about her words.

...'alone...again'?

Chapter 97: The Past's Black Gulf

"...at least she's safe. I'm sorry, dear. You did your bes-"

Wind whipped across an expanse of clouds and stars. Whistled through crumbling, cobbled arches. Flapped through blue cloth, and the tatters of hopes and dreams.

Stood at the edge of their own private heaven, for better or worse, the two turned their heads fractionally.

They sensed, rather than saw, the crowd of souls ascend cracked and shattered stairs. Sensed, rather than saw, their sore hooves, shivering shoulders, and fresh tears.

"...I'm sorry, dear," sighed the old woman. Shook her head. "We should continue this discussion some other time." Her unseen face frowned. "Tsk, tsk. Don't make that face. Neither of them, for good or ill, are going anywhere."

"...fine..."

The shadowy figure turned and made to stomp off toward a hole in the ruined wall.

"Dear, please..." the old woman said.

The figure stopped. Looked over her shoulder.

"Don't hate them. They had nothing to do with what happened." The old woman turned, smiling from within the shadow of her shawl. "We cannot heap the sins of the mother on their daughters. Or we'll all carry that burden forever. Won't we?"

Clack. Clack. Clack.

"..." Hippolyta stopped, a sniffling Theodora tucked under her threadbare cloak.

She met the shadowed woman's eyes. Saw them narrow, contemptuously.

"...fine" the figure growled, before turning and stomping away.

The Storch, and the crowd of replikas in her wake, watched the dark figure disappear among the crumbling stones.

"...the hell was that?" Hippolyta grumbled. She looked to the old woman. "Someone you know?"

The elder chuckled warmly. Turned to look at the new arrivals. "Don't mind her, dears," said the Grand Empress. "It takes a very long time for the sting of life to fade. For some, it seemingly never does." She waved a wrinkled hand. "Oh, but forgive an old woman. Welcome, children. It's not much anymore, but it is safe enough. You are welcome to it."

Hippolyta looked back, watching the others take in the desolate beauty.

"...hgh...hic..." Theodora sobbed, peeking out from Hippolyta's side. Clutched at her aching neck. "...is it...really okay?"

"Yes, dear, it's quite alright," the Empress nodded. She beckoned with her gnarled hands. "Come here, child."

Sniffing, Theodora looked up at Hippolyta. When the Storch nodded, smiling warmly, the Eule tentatively walked forward and embraced the old woman with a gasp. "Aah..." she moaned, burying her face in the white hair. "...hic..."

"Shh...it's alright," the Empress said, patting the girl on the back, "let it all out..."

"I can't believe it..." whispered Irene, leaning against her sister. "We're...dead."

"I still don't know what happened," Doris whispered back, frowning. The two hugged each other, sharing Irene's cloak. "I was just...working, and...then the screeching and growling. I felt..." She pressed a hand to her chest. Studied the hole piercing through her chestplate. "...shit..."

"At least your body stayed in one piece," Irene sighed, raising a hand and sliding her eye back up. "I keep feeling my skin want to turn to jelly again..."

"You don't need to keep those wounds, if you don't want," Hippolyta said, crossing her arms. "I can show you how."

"Please?" Doris said, frowning sadly.

Chicory, Clary, and Marjoram stood together, their oxide-red robes tattered and dulled. The Aras betrayed little of what they thought on their faces.

Finally, Clary forced a frown, eyeing the ruins. "...apologies, Empress," she said, voice raspy. Her face and legs still bore phantom scratches from a serrated claw. "...we...that is, we Aras, thought we would be going to join the Machine God..."

"Mysteries, mysteries," the Grand Empress said, playfully. She patted Theodora's head affectionately. "I'm sure your Omnissiah has a place set aside for you." She sighed, head turning. "As you can see..."

They looked out on the horizon. The baleful horizon, where horrid, leaf-less branches in all the colors of Chaos grew like roots up the vault of stars. Greedily attempting to subsume creation itself, even if they ultimately failed.

"...that doesn't look good..." Teasel breathed, shading her already shadowed eyes with her hand. Sat up on her perch on Bertha's shoulders.

"Less than ideal, yes," the Empress nodded, rubbing Theodora's shuddering shoulders.. "I assume the Machine God's domain is having difficulties, processing all the Mechanicum dead, on both sides of the war. Those who haven't pledged themselves to the dark, anyway. When it's all straightened out in the end, I'm sure you'll find it. Until then, you're free to rest here as long as you like."

The Aras looked at one another, then down to the ground. Marjoram rubbed her arm.

"...guess shit's fucked, even here?" Bertha said. Colossal hood draped over her helmet. She reached up, helping Teasel to the ground. She turned her whole body, and gestured with a giant hand at the horizon. "Can anyone even do something about...all that?"

The Grand Empress, hugging the weeping Eule, turned to watch the cosmos strain under the weight of corruption.

"...we shall see."

---

"Listen! I understand your feelings, but-"

A crowd of replikas talked and shouted and cried out, all at once. Pressed as close as they dared to the dining table that acted as impromptu stage.

"We can't go back in there! Are you insane!?"

"We almost died!"

"No-no-no-no-no! Please! I can't!"

"-get us all killed!?"

"Mom, don't do this! My heart can't-"

The replika commander pressed a hand to her chest, feeling a knot form. Frowned, watching their faces. "..."

So many bandages, hiding cuts, scratches, burns. Even a couple mutations to their flesh, or discolorations of their surface chassis. Sweat on the brow, tears on cheeks. Dark bags under their eyes. If their eyes weren't artificial, they would be bloodshot.

How many experienced even a single, good night-shift's sleep? How many more cycles would see them bolt awake screaming?

Mouth screwed up, Elster furrowed her brow. Threw her hands up. "Quiet, please! That's enough!"

When the crowd reluctantly fell silent, punctuated by bitter whispers or choked sobs, Elster continued. "I know, I know," she said, speaking into her microphone. Softened her tone. "Believe me, I don't want to subject any of you to...that a second time. If it were up to me, I'd never make you go through the Warp again..."

Sniffing and shuffling awkwardly, the crowd held their breaths. They could sense the great and terrible 'but' looming. "..."

"...but..." Elster sighed, hardening her tone. "We. Can't. Stay. Here." She pointed toward the wall of the mess hall. "I don't know how many of you checked the windows. But we're in the middle of nowhere. Not just in some unpopulated region, but between star systems. There's nothing here. No food, no resupply, potentially not even substantial asteroids to mine or wrecks to salvage. We're so far from any star, it would take literally hundreds of years to reach the nearest one just using the Nomarch's impulse drives."

Members of the crowd shifted uncomfortably. Some looked like they wanted to object, or spout some possible course of action that didn't involve igniting the Warp Drive and thrusting them back into the domain of daemons. Others, however, shrank into themselves. Looked to the floor, chewed their fingers anxiously.

They were beginning to put the pieces together in their heads, even if others hadn't.

Elster looked as many of her children in the eye as she could, darting her gaze around, as if addressing each individually. "Take it from someone who tried before, long ago," she said, growing somber. "We will ALL DIE if we try crossing interstellar space without a Warp Drive. It's not happening."

A hand shot up from the crowd.

"What about the Penrose?" said Dorothy, hopping to be seen over a huddle of Aras. "You traveled between systems before in the Penrose, right? To get to Xana?"

The crowd started up again, furiously talking over one another.

"Achtung! Stop!" Elster said, waving the crowd down. "Setting aside it's a very small space, only to be used by the whole crew in emergencies..." She pointed to Dorothy. "Dorth...you know what's on the Penrose, right? You met him."

Elster didn't like that yet another of her children came face to face with Mik'hul. Why was it always the Eules?

"Y-yeah..." Dorothy squeaked, as dozens of replikas turned to regard her with a mix of curiosity and dread. "...the daemon, right? Your Familiar?"

"I...wouldn't exactly call him a 'Familiar', mine or otherwise," Elster said, looking away and scratching her head. She caught the eye of Circe and the rest of her Circle, sat at a table in one corner. Which if you told the crew about the concept of 'Familiars'?

Shahrazad flinched, then shrank down, looking away. Her sisters and mother eyed her with exasperation. All except Hecate, who snickered to herself in between handfuls of dried mealworms from a bowl. Her head and nubby horns hidden under a faded hoodie looted from a Mordian dumpster, many years ago.

"...look, the daemon 'upstairs' isn't just along for the ride," Elster said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He's WHY I'm able to cross space in the Penrose." She looked to the crowd. "It involves him opening a hole in the Warp, and flying it through the realm of one of the Dark Gods themselves."

"..."

The crowd fell silent. Replikas slowly shrank in on themselves, or stared in silent, mounting horror.

"Everyone remember the daemons who shot fire and split into more daemons?" Elster said, miming with her hands the act of one breaking into two. When she practically felt several of her children freeze up or shudder, their fresh traumas dragged to the surface, she chewed her lip. "...sorry, that's...I shouldn't have...in any case, those were daemons of Tzeentch, god of lies, magic, and ambition."

She crooked a thumb toward the ceiling. "Mik'hul up there is another Tzeentch daemon. To get the Penrose around, he takes it through Tzeentch's personal realm." She looked are the crowd gravely. "There is no Geller Field on the Penrose at all. We survive trips on it solely because Mik'hul is a native, and keeps his kin off our backs...and because it pleases his god. We only survive because a cosmic entity allows us safe passage." She tipped her head forward fractionally. "I have no pact with Tzeentch. It's only because Mik'hul owes Vashtorr. If Tzeentch decided he wanted the entire crew as a snack, there would be nothing we could do..."

The crowd trembled now. Several members started to hyperventilate or cry out or sob.

Dorothy, face pale, sank to the floor and clutched her head. "..."

"...is it safe to assume you don't want to go, unprotected, into the realm of a Dark God?" Elster said.

"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"Nuh uh! No way!"

"Please, mom, don't make us go there!"

"I don't want to go back! I-I-I-!"

"Shh! Shh! Calm down!" Elster said, waving her hands. A bead of cold sweat broke out on her brow. "It's okay, babies! It's okay! We're not going there! Promise!"

Several replikas openly shook or wept. Their neighbors hugged them, rocking them back and forth.

"...look," Elster said, as the crowd began to calm down. "As you can see, staying here isn't an option. Nor is crowding into the Penrose and flying without a Geller Field into Hell itself." She straightened up. "We need to go through the Warp the normal way. The way, mind you, we've been using for the better part of a decade at this point."

"B-but what if the Field goes down again?" Breach piped in, towering over the rear of the crowd.

"Most of the time, if the Geller Field fails, the entire crew dies instantly," Elster said, scratching her cheek. "At which point, it won't be our problem anymore." To head off another wave of panic and crying, she added, "Diodana has assured me she and her senior students have triple-checked the Geller Field Generator. Taken it apart and put it back together again. It will work as best as it's possible to work, under the circumstances."

She surveyed the crowd. Several replikas, especially the Aras, frowned. They weren't totally convinced the Geller Field Generator wouldn't go on the fritz again, no matter how much they tried to placate its machine spirit.

"...moreover, we're not going into this blind, or without recourse," Elster said, snapping her fingers to regain attention. "But for this, I'm going to need your help."

The crowd shot to attention, their eyes locked on their mother.

Pointing to the cafeteria doors, and their prominent arcane script around the doorway, Elster nodded. "A few of you that possessed some Bioresonance talent were recruited to help Circe and the others etch key areas of the ship with wards. Well, those wards worked. They kept the daemons out. Several of you sheltered, knowingly or not, in areas protected by them."

A flurry of whispers. Eyes darted around, studying the bewildering script.

"Problem was, we didn't have nearly enough of them," Elster said, inclining her head forward fractionally. "We didn't think we needed it. Well, we know better now, don't we?"

She watched members of the crowd nod and mutter among themselves.

"This is what we're going to do," Elster said. She waved her arm to Circe and her kids. "The Kolibris are going to recruit as many of you as possible, who have some bioresonant talent. If you've ever felt, at one time or another, that you have some...preternatural sense or awareness, or some kind of luck...talk to Circe. If you have this kind of talent, you'll be taught how to make the wards." She paced the top of the dining table serving as her stage. "Everyone else still needs to rest, or to help clean and repair damaged systems. Or get hydroponics stations up and running, to make up for the loss of much of the Green Deck..."

Several Aras hugged themselves, staring into space. The infection of Hydroponics dealt a blow to everyone, but especially them. That some hydroponics stations survived outside the quarantine zone was a minor miracle. As was the apparent survival of some plants inside the one ravaged by the Plaguebearers. If could just save some of the trees...

Elster brushed fingers through her hair, muttering, "Yeah...that also needs a full decontamination." She shook her head. "All of that will still take time, until we run out of work we can do without resupply. During this period, Circe's team will work on wards."

She looked out on the crowd. "I promise you, everyone," she said, furrowing her brow. "We aren't going to jump until every single inch of the Nomarch is protected against the things that dwell in the Warp. We won't let that happen again." Elster's features softened. "I wish so much that I could let you all rest. To mourn, to...just breathe. But I need to beg your patience and endurance. Just a little longer. Okay?"

The crowd was quiet. Not the horrified quiet of before. A solemn, contemplative quiet.

Replikas stared at the walls, the scripted doorway, the floor. They wrung their hands, or hugged themselves, each other. Slowly, they looked up at the Machine Mother and nodded or muttered assent.

"..." Elster permitted herself a small smile. "Thank you, everyone."

She sighed, letting the crowd talk among themselves for a moment. She motioned to the administrator, standing stoically off to the side.

"...now, everyone, Adler drew up new preliminary schedules, if you'll just bear with me..."

---

"It was just a dream. Just...a bad dream, is all..."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A shuddering breath. White hair dangling over downcast eyes. Hands gripped a countertop.

Ariane swallowed. Cast a glance to the microwave as it turned off. Smelled dehydrated rations within, stoked back to life by water and heat. Looked down at the counter, her weight bearing down on it.

She sighed. Rubbed the sleep out of bloodshot, puffy eyes.

It was a nightmare. It had to be. Rushing around the Penrose, looking for her lover, missing without a trace. It couldn't be real. She would have found some evidence of it. In truth, she didn't even remember falling asleep.

Why, then, did she hesitate this morning to venture downstairs? Why did she delay?

"...Ellie's just...down there," the gestalt muttered, shaking her head. "Get it together. She's not missing. You had a bad dream."

Yes. That was it. When she went down, Elster would be waiting for her.

She grabbed her water bottle and downed several more gulps. For all she believed she dreamt crying all night, the dehydration felt so real. Ariane rubbed her aching head. "...fuck..."

Stomach rumbling, she popped the microwave open and carried breakfast to the table.

Steam wafted up from the bowl of instant mashed potatoes. Despite herself, Ariane's eyes wandered to the counter, studying the box fished from the back of the cupboard. Looked back down at her meal. "..."

The gestalt took up the spoon and prodded the watery mixture.

Ariane Yeong didn't count herself a picky eater. In the Eusan Nation, it didn't pay to reject perfectly edible food. Much less military rations.

If there was one thing Ariane always hated, though, it was instant mashed potatoes. Dried flakes in boxes, and mixed with water. Slather it in any sauce on offer, the taste revolted her.

Always had, since her childhood. When she and her mother lived alone on Leng, or at that isolated radio station. When they took what they could get, which often meant surplus instant mashed potatoes.

It was only when she moved to her aunt's, in Rotfront, that she learned mashed potatoes made fresh actually tasted good. That it was possible to mash a potato and not want to die eating it.

Not merely the blandness offended her. It was the texture. She felt ill, just considering it.

"..." Ariane sighed, furrowing her brow ruefully at the bowl. The only thing she relished less than eating...was letting it go to waste. To do so seemed...wrong. Dangerous, somehow. Though she couldn't place why.

She rubbed her head, groaning. Fingers dug into her scalp. She couldn't concentrate. There was a...fog inside her head. Wherever she went, lately, she couldn't seem to fully focus.

Her stomach grumbled. Ariane sighed. Reluctantly scooped a big spoonful.

Raising it to her waiting mouth, the gestalt couldn't shake the feeling she'd been here before. Like she'd eaten a lot of it, not too long ago.

It seemed odd. What had Elster jokingly told her, so many times?

"Ari," the replika had said, "if you only eat what you like, eventually the instant potatoes will be ALL you have left."

The gestalt sighed.

"Praise the Great Revolutionary for this meal," she muttered bitterly. Popped the food in her mouth.

The taste hit her like a brick. Her eyes shot open wide.

Clang.

"GCK!" she grunted, clapping a hand over her mouth. Entire body shivered.

Her stomach churned. Her blood chilled. Skin broke out in a cold sweat.

Ariane Yeong was suddenly struck with the inescapable, visceral sensation she was dying.

"Mmph!" she groaned, staggering to her feet. Wild-eyed, heart racing. Her pale face turned green.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

Ariane bolted through the first automatic door, then another, and another. She knocked down her easel, in a frantic rush to the bathroom. Threw open the door, sank to her knees.

"Ghh...gah...!"

She was dying. Her body falling apart. Everything hurt.

As she bent over the bowl, dry heaving, she felt something buried deep rush to the surface. Physically, and mentally.

"HHHRRGHF!"

Memories assailed her mind. Poured out of her subconscious, even as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

Pain. Memory of pain. Of her teeth and hair falling out. Of her fingers blackening, rotting. Of legs too weak to walk, needing to be carried. Desperation. Dizziness. Delirium. Despair.

Memories of kneeling over the toilet, just like now, over and over and over. Desperate prayer, before a biological altar. Her guts on fire. Elster holding her hair as she puked.

"...hah...hah...ngh..." Ariane gasped, eyes screwed shut. She dry heaved, waiting for another gout. Panting, gripping the edge of the bowl, she wondered why she remember her hair being longer.

...no...my hair..., she thought, eyes popping open. ...it WAS longer...

Another wave of vomit, not forthcoming. But another wave of terrible memory surfaced.

"...hah...ngh..." Ariane groaned, flopping down on the floor and pressing her back against the wall. Eyes locked fearfully on the toilet, gasping. Eyebrows raised, color draining from her face. Acidic tinge on her tongue, burning her throat. Fluid running down her chin. "...ngh..."

Shaking hands rose. Eyes looked down, inspecting them. Turned them over, repeatedly, frantically. White as snow. Healthy-ish. Wracked with tremors.

The gestalt combed her fingers through her white hair. Felt the length.

Her hair was supposed to be longer. She specifically remembered resolving to grow it out. Said as much out loud. Because, because...

Because Elster thought it looked beautiful, Ariane thought, breathlessly. Elster...Elster...

The words Elster spoke, so long ago, hit her again. "...instant mashed potatoes will be ALL you have left."

The taste of vomit in her mouth. Vomit and instant mashed potatoes. Intermingled. Irrevocably linked.

Her conscious mind couldn't remember a thousand consecutive meals of awful, rehydrated potato product, intermixed with the visceral taste of her own waning health. Of her body's damnable treason, and her inescapable mortality.

But her stomach remembered.

"...th-this...this is wrong..." Ariane breathed, staring up into space. Hands shaking in front of her. "Something's wrong! This...this isn't...I don't..."

She staggered frantically to her feet. Eyes darting around. She swallowed hard, and winced. Leaning over the sink, she splashed water in her face in a half-hearted attempt to clean. Guzzled handfuls of water, to try draining the acid back down, before it burned her esophagus more.

It was a rote act. Done blindly. Forlorn hope to drown her memories, to swallow them back up and forget.

It didn't work. She bolted upright, clutching her head, eyes vibrating in their sockets. Synapses fired.

She felt a fog try to settle over her mind. But her thoughts raced too fast.

She felt tired. She felt wired. She felt wide awake and about to crash.

She felt like she was dying. She felt horribly, painfully alive.

"Elster!" she cried, staggering out the door of her tiny bathroom. Panting, desperate for a breath of fresh, unrecycled air. "Elster!"

She had to find her girlfriend. Even if she had to tear the entire ship apart.

"ELSTER!"

---

"Sorry about this..."

Heart monitors beeped. Fluid dripped in IV stands. Replikas breathed softly, or tossed in their drug-induced sleep.

"No problem," Rose sighed, siphoning liquid into a syringe. Held it up and squirted a bit. "Present your neck."

"Right," Vanessa said, rubbing the bandage on her aching forehead. Craning her neck, she swept straw-colored hair from her shoulder. "I just...I was so tired and dizzy. Couldn't catch myself, before..."

"Again, no apologies needed," Rose yawned, patting the Eule's shoulder. "It happens to the best of us." Inserted needle into neck port. Thumbed the plunger. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Not enough," Vanessa whined, wincing. Felt the sedative fill her veins. It tingled. She looked down at her hand. "...it's just...I kept thinking, what if...what if it happened again? Wh-what if the wards fail, and...a-and...?"

"Hush. We're fine. Translation, it seems, went off without a hitch," Rose said, withdrawing the needle. "There. This should help you sleep. Which, as your physician, I advise you do immediately. I'll tell Adler to find a replacement for your shift."

"Thank you, Rose," Vanessa smiled, rubbing her neck. She studied the Ara's face. "How are you holding up?"

Sighing, the medic rubbed the bags under her eyes. Blinked. She leaned against a medical bed, looking over her shoulder to keep from disturbing its sleeping occupant. "I'm...recovering."

"You're not still sick, are you?" Vanessa frowned. "Shouldn't you get some rest, too?"

"Just tired," Rose said, looking at the floor. "Even after Isis's cure, it...took so much out of me."

"...I'm sorry about Chicory," Vanessa said, pursing her lips painfully.

Rose looked out over the medical ward. Studied replikas, either still recovering from surgeries (like Sally, with her fresh, non-spiny liver), or sleeping off voluntary sedation. A suitable alternative to the stress of Warp travel, given recent events.

Her face remained impassive. Her mind turned over those precious minutes in Hydroponics. Or were they hours? She forced a frown.

"...I'm sorry too."

 

"By the Omnissiah..."

Hands clutched hastily rebuilt controls. Data feeds glitched on a repurposed monitor. Light and shadow crawled or strobed across the room.

Clack. Clack.

Elster's hand brushed the back of the deck chair placed beside the ruin of the captain's seat. She didn't sit, eyes fixed on the front window.

"...what the hell?" she breathed.

The entire bridge crew stared too. Aras and Eules had their heads on swivels, checking between forward windows and 360 degree viewscreens around the room's perimeter.

A chunk of voidship debris drifted past on the starboard side, casting a dark shadow against the stars.

Peeking around a drifting body ahead nearly blinded them with the light of the system's star. Shine pierced sharply through the voidship's exposed skeleton.

The Nomarch 06 flew through a titanic field of derelict space vessels. An asteroid belt of space hulks, a system wide.

"...a...voidship graveyard..." Elster breathed, breaking from her reverie to look at the screens all around them. "...th-there must be thousands...millions of ships here!"

"Verily," Diodana breathed, sat at the seat before her reconstructed station. Four photo-receptors drank in the scene of incalculable damage...and bounty. "LSTR-512, you said the Arkifane claimed this system was unusually difficult to reach via Warp travel, yes?"

"Y-yes," Elster said, looking at the tech adept. Her brow furrowed. "You think...?"

"That this system's place within a squall of Warp storms prevents ships from both intentionally entering and leaving?" Diodana said, looking over her shoulder. "Yes."

"...we're going to be able to leave here, right?" Tulip said, looking sideways at her teacher. "Right?"

"For at least a few more years, if Vashtorr is anything to go by," Elster said. She walked around the captain's console and walked slowly around the bridge. Eyes darted every direction. "...this can't all be ships lost trying to get here, right?"

"Verifiably not, it seems," Diodana said, rising to her feet, despite the pain in her one organic knee. "Gnh...look there!" She pointed, singling out a drifting wreck. "That's the Alabaster Wind! That ship was lost in the Segmentum Ultima, near the galactic core!"

"You're sure?" Elster said, glancing at the tech adept, before looking out at the vessel in question. "You couldn't be mistaking it for a different ship of its class?"

"I'm positive," Diodana nodded. "It and the Joys of Duty served in the same battle group, before we were reassigned. The Alabaster Wind disappeared between jumps, quite suddenly. I cannot mistake its make, model, or coloration."

"Confirming," said an Ara, sat at a Starboard gunner deck. Fiddling with buttons, she zoomed in on the craft on her screen. "It says, I think, 'Alabaster' on the side."

"The hell's it doing here, then?" Dash said, leaning against the back wall with her arms crossed. Head turned to watch a field of shattered metal bounce off their void shields and tumble away. "Isn't that on the other side of the galaxy entirely?"

"The flow of the Warp is convoluted, its relationship to Realspace obscure," Diodana said. "Space Hulks are known to appear and disappear seemingly at random, covering vast distances between sightings as Warp fissures or their malfunctioning Drives translate them in and out of the Immaterium."

"...this must be where a ton of ships end up," Elster said, stroking her chin. "A gulf where the tides feed lost ships into." Eyes followed a chunk of debris bounce off a ruined Cruiser, then fly off in a different direction. "Tulip, can you get us over the plane of this field?"

"I think so," Tulip nodded. She flipped switches and tilted the control stick back gently. "Give me a minute."

They felt micro-adjustments to gravity through the floor, as the Nomarch pitched upward, relative to the debris plane and their own orientation. Rising at a 30 degree angle, they watched as colossal vessels passed by. Artificial asteroids, built from the hopes and dreams of entire civilizations.

"...some of these wrecks are of Xenos origin, of known providence," Diodana mused, looking at a viewing screen to her left. "Others, verifiably human, but predating the Great Crusade. Some...I cannot recognize at all."

Bridge crew noted, as they rose, the field seemed to orbit some point in the distance. Notably, not around the system's star, as the orbit was too noticeably sharp in its curves.

A truly gargantuan wreck, positioned vertically relative to the debris plane, towered over them to their port side. As they rose, it loomed like a tower. Until, finally, Tulip straightened their flight level with its magnificent prow, the color of brass.

From here, they could view the whole field. It stretched out for millions of miles in all directions. The refuse of a million worlds. Mausoleums of millions of soldiers, sailors, colonists, and captives. Interred by whatever dooms slew their ships.

"...shit..." Dash said, eyes widening. Had her mouth not been hidden behind her mask, it would hang visibly slack.

"...by the Machine God," Diodana breathed, leaning forward.

Elster's brows furrowed. "..."

There you are.

From their vantage, the orbit of the voidship graveyard became obvious. As if the body sitting at its center did not demarcate this adequately enough.

Sunlight glinted off polished black surfaces. Its form, geometric. Its scale, brobdingnagian. A pair of pyramids attached base to base. Sandwiched between them, a pair of cross-shaped annexes, projecting four long wings each, perpendicular to one another. Such that, seen from above, it appeared like a diamond at the heart of an eight-pointed star.

"That's it," Elster said, crossing her arms.

"You're sure?" Diodana said, glancing at the replika commander. She looked forward, leaning on her console pensively. "..."

"Yes." Elster inclined her head forward. "That's what Vashtorr wanted us to find."

The structure loomed out ahead of them, orders of magnitude larger than even the hugest ship caught in its gravity well. It was no less than the size of a moon.

"A Blackstone Fortress."

Notes:

This one took me multiple rewrites, especially the bit with Vanessa and Rose. As well as moving scenes around, some sent forward to future updates, some brought back for the sake of pacing (and page count).

Chapter 98: Space Hulk 2, Blackstone Boogaloo

"So...we're NOT tackling that big fuckoff space station?"

Tray set down on the edge of the table. Steam billowed up from mugs of tea. Steam, mugs, walls, and faces bathed green from below.

"Not right now, no," Elster said, accepting the offered mug. "Thank you, Meryl."

The Eule nodded, and turned back to the tray.

"We came all this way, though," Double Tap said, frowning. "Fought like hell. Some of us..."

"I know, D.T.," Elster nodded, eyes shut. "I know. It's because we're exhausted, I can't organize a full mission in. Prior to arrival, I might have suggested it after we took some rest time. But seeing the sheer scale of the Fortress..."

"Oh, thanks," Double Tap said, taking the mug from Meryl. She blew steam from the top, then looked down at the map. A huge section of the local system, its field filled with enough individual derelicts as to be almost a solid field of green. In the center, dwarfing them all by far, the geometric Blackstone Fortress. "...I guess it IS too damn big."

"Simply organizing exploration of the structure, much less finding our mission objectives, would take weeks," Adler said, crossing his arms. "Possibly months."

"Luckily, this assignment has a long shelf life," Elster said, taking a tentative sip. Grimaced at the heat on her tongue. "Ngh...we can afford to let it sit, until we're ready. Preferably when we've not just recovered, but expanded our numbers."

"Well, it's not like we won't have tons of raw materials to pick from," Double Tap shrugged. "Even with that titanium we got from those Blackshields, it's been the big bottleneck for making more combat replikas."

"That, and space," Adler said, receiving the mug from Meryl. "Danke. The Nomarch is dangerously over capacity. It was never meant to carry this large a crew complement."

"Wasn't the original Empire mission supposed to grow itself?" Meryl said, leaning on the table edge. Green light reflected off her artificial eyes, as she studied the map.

"It was also supposed to build additional habitats in the Oort Cloud, so the Nomarch's base sleeping space wouldn't be an issue," Elster said, setting the mug down. "Whereas we've been keeping it all in-house, so to speak."

"A cradle we've outgrown," Adler said, stroking his chin.

Shing.

"Hey, mom."

Daisy walked across the planning room, stopping before the table. Oxide-red robes turned a ruddy brown by the emerald light.

"What is it, sweetie?" Elster said.

The Ara pulled a data stick from her pocket.

"We figured out where that distress signal is coming from."

 

"[Beginning approach. Crews stand by.]"

Sunlight winked out, as the tiny vessel hove behind the shadow of the derelict.

The Sword class Frigate loomed amid a collection of scattered debris and ruined ships. Starboard lance batteries sat half-empty. Victims of prior void engagements, but bearing signs of preliminary maintenance, once upon a time. Removed, without opportunity for replacement.

Eggshell-white hull pitted and discolored, the crippled Escort still bore signs of reactor activity. Exterior lights rhythmically flickered white and red. Silhouetted against a hidden star, these lights added definition to its former naval glory. Every few seconds, gashes in the superstructure lit up with sparks, and the desperate embers of exposed interior glow-globes.

What external instruments remained keened into the void. Distress broadcast on all channels, so even a hobbyist radio could receive.

Writ in black and gold, the name "Human Purity" dominated one flank. Its scale alone dwarfed the Eusan Empire explorator craft.

The Nomarch positioned itself sidelong to the larger vessel. A minnow swimming beside a porpoise, amid a school dominated by distant, murdered whales.

"[Initiating contact.]"

Silent bursts in the void, as tethers shot from the Nomarch's side. Magnetized against the Frigate, vibrating through its hull. Tethers grew taut.

"[Contact secure. Strike teams free to approach. Good luck, girls.]"

Hanger doors opened, disgorging shuttle craft. They glided toward the derelict, their holds filled with teams swathed in void suits and armed to the teeth.

From within the Nomarch, observers cast nervous eyes first toward the shuttles aiming for airlocks and hull breaches, then upward.

Hanging above them, a crude craft of inhuman origin vented sparks, radiation, and drifting debris. Its heart blown out by a single, point-blank lance burst. A weapon coaxed to action from within, at great cost.

A bridge tether frayed, limp in the airless void, from the Xenos vessel. Its mate affixed to the Frigate's side, iron teeth biting into the hull like a decapitated tick. The two halves ripped apart by the force of the ship-scale las blast, and the rupture of the invader's reactor.

"[And be careful. The locals may not be alone in there.]"

 

"Shh...it'll be okay. Just be quiet..."

Shnk. Klnk.

A tiny squeak. A hand clapped over a mouth. Muffled sounds of eight clawed limbs skittering across the ceiling, walls, then floor.

Two children, wide-eyed and hearts racing, pressed further against the cabinet back. Threadbare, oversized, oil-stained jumpsuits lashed tight to their bodies with tape and cord.

He was ten, she eight.

Trembling, the little girl curled into the boy's arms. When the stomping shape passed across the crack in the cabinet door, she flinched, and buried her face in his chest.

Holding his breath, the boy swallowed, holding her close with one arm, while brandishing a knife with the other.

"Hhhssss..." breathed the creature. Tongue tasted the air, as the metal claws on its crude bionic arm clacked wickedly, impatiently. It pushed off the floor, walking upright on its four hindmost legs. Reptilian, cyborg centaur.

Raising its snout, the Rak'Gol sniffed. Long, sinuous tail whipping, it turned and followed its nose. Crossed the floor.

"..." Spots formed at the edge of the boy's vision, as he silently watched the alien monster approach through the gap. Blade held ready, heart racing. Unwilling, unable, to breath.

Shing.

"Rragh!" the Rak'Gol growled, jerking its head away from the cabinet.

Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap-Zap.

"Skreee!" the monster shrieked, dashing out of view as a flurry of las bolts lit up the room. One of its scaled arms exploded off at the shoulder.

"Ah!" the girl cried, hugging the boy harder.

He flinched, shutting his eyes as the scarlet light flashed. In the commotion, permitted aching lungs a gasp. Heard a flurry of cries, the discharge of energy weapons, and growls from an alien throat.

Screech!

"Ah!" cried a muffled female voice. Boots scuffled on metal. Something thumped to the floor. "Mein arm!"

Bam!

"Rragh!" cried the beast, flesh smoldering and bionic parts sparking. It flew back across the room, struck by an immense force.

"Pinnen Sie es fest!"

Zap. Zap. Zap-Zap-Zap.

The boy cracked an eye open, watching the beast scurry across a wall, evading a wave of las bolts. Reptilian mouth flashed teeth and hissed.

Whhrrr.

RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT-RT!

"AAAAYYYY!" the Rak'Gol screeched, its body peppered with a volley of rotary gun rounds. The room outside filled with a strobing light and the roar of the gun. Alien blood painted the walls, and body parts showered the ground.

Trembling, the boy allowed himself to blink. Watched the wounded monster writhe on the floor. Its cyborg body twitched and shot sparks.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

A giant hoof kicked the creature over, while a massive hand seized it by the neck. The tail tried to lash out at the figure. It simply stomped the appendage flat beneath its hoof, pinning it in place.

"...machen sie die ehre?" came a muffled, female voice from behind the face shield.

The girl, shivering, turned her head enough to peek one eye out. "..."

Boots trod the metal floor, navigating gore and severed limbs. From their angle, the children couldn't see the figure's head. They saw the glint of the blade they drew, however.

Bzzt.

The children averted their eyes, the room bathed in blue light.

Shing!

"AAAooogh!" the Rak'Gol cried, before its body went limp.

The head bounced, before rolling across the childrens' field of view. Disappeared into a corner.

"..."

The two kids took deep breaths, then froze when the monster's body was discarded on the ground.

A heavy sigh. A blade slid back into a scabbard. "...götterdämmerung..." The figure turned. "Geht es dir gut?"

Boots stepped into the room. From outside the field of view, a voice whined, "Ja, ja...hsss...tut höllisch weh."

"Kehre zum Nomarch zuruck, Doppel Tippen. Sam, begliete sie."

"Ja...fech..." The sound of pained kneeling, as something was retrieved from the floor. Two sets of steps retreated.

The figure in view gestured by unseen hand signs to others. They jogged away. "Jenny, wachen," she said, turned to the giant.

The immense figure nodded with her whole torso. "Ja, verstanden."

"Wir müssen..." The lead figure stopped. Turned slightly, hand raised to head. Listened to an unheard voice. "...hier? Wo?"

The two children flinched, as the figure turned toward their hiding place. Held their breaths, as she unerringly strode right up to the cabinet.

Chnk.

"Ah!" the girl cried, burying her face in the boy's chest. Trembled all over, threw her arms around his neck.

"Nngh!" The boy, shaking, held the knife out. Watched as the woman in the grey, Auxilia void suit knelt by the door and peered inside. His terrified face reflected in the eye lenses of the helmet.

"Halten sie! Wait!" she said, holding up one hand. She slipped her laspistol in the holster on her belt, and kept both gloved hands where they could see. "It's alright! I'm not going to hurt you. Honest."

Tentatively, the girl turned her head to face the woman. Tears running down her cheek. "..."

"...who...who are you?" the boy finally said, knife trembling in his hand.

Slowly, the figure grasped her helmet and twisted. It came off with a hiss.

The children's eyes widened, as the replika removed her helmet.

She put on a now-customary maternal smile.

"My name is Elster. I'm glad you're safe."

 

"Thanks for bringing them back, strangers. Name's Chip."

Steam puffed rhythmically from an overhead pipe. Makeshift bedrolls and ragged sheets lined the floors and walls. Somewhere, a preteen girl cooed warmly to a crying child.

From every dark corner and tiny space, bright eyes and dirty faces peered at the newcomers with a mixture of fear, curiosity, and awe.

Their sanctum - a utility tunnel - crowded by the sudden arrival of several replikas in Auxilia voidsuits. Their weapons at ease, their eyes darting around with equal curiosity.

"It's no problem," Elster said, letting go of the young boy's hand so he could run up and whisper in the older teen's ear. She smiled. "...I couldn't very well leave them alone, while these aliens are still around."

The Mynah bent low, giant hands helping an ecstatic little girl down. "Go on," Jenny said, smiling. "You're safe now."

"Bye-bee!" the girl giggled, waving to the Mynah. She dashed across the room, into the waiting arms of a teenage girl that rushed out from cover. More children, eyes alight, crept over as well. The little girl beamed as they breathlessly talked about her new giant friend.

"Looks like they had a fun time, considering," Chip said, crossing his arms behind his head. A grin showed off one of his missing front teeth. He wore a hole-filled leather vest, cargo pants, boots a size too large, and a faded yellow cap. "We don't get near enough of that on the 'Purity."

Elster gave a soft smile, then let it fade. "...how long has it been?" she said. Inclined her head forward fractionally. "Since being marooned, I mean?"

"Couldn't say in specific, ma'am," Chip said, brushing a finger under his nose. Eyes diverted toward a pair of children who cautiously crept toward Jenny. "Hard to keep track of time, since the officers all...well..."

His mood changed. Eyes glassed over, staring into the middle distance. "..."

"...I'm...sorry," Elster said, frowning. "We don't have to talk about how it happened. I understand personally how...a bad past can get its claws in you."

Chip shut his eyes, breathed. Shook his head. "No prob, I..." He looked at the replika commander. "...do your dayshift-mares involve things from he-...heck itself?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Elster sighed, nodding. "Our Geller Field struggled on the way in-system. So for my kids and I, the memories are fresh."

"Sorry, ma'am," Chip said, looking down at the ground. Peeked up. "You lose many?"

"Eight."

"Not eight thousand?" Chip said, chuckled dryly. Kicked a loose bolt on the ground. "...sorry. I guess it's not a contest."

"I should be apologizing," Elster said, frowning. "You...the Human Purity seems to have lost significantly more..."

"Okay, okay, stop," Dash said, stepping forward and clapping a hand on Elster's shoulder. "Mom, while I'd love to let you two commiserate and play keep away with being sorry, we have to finish clearing this ship."

"Right, sorr-...thank you, Dash," Elster said, looking over her shoulder and nodding. She looked to Chip. "Are you the oldest here?"

"Yep," Chip said, exhaling in relief. He rocked on his heels, hands in his pockets. Eyes wandered, watching Petunia step from the replika line and zero in on a metal hatch on the wall. Watched her put her ear to the hatch, and force a frown. "We, uh...most of the kids around here were little, when...it happened. A lot of us survived hiding in vents. Most of the adults...they weren't so lucky. Some are, or were, still around..."

Petunia removed tools from her belt and rapidly unscrewed the hatch. Looking inside, she studied the rumbling tangle of pipes and motors. "..."

"Would you happen to know where they are?" Elster said, her own eyes drifting to the Ara as she worked. "Or where they were?"

"...uh...here and there, mostly," Chip shrugged. "Some of them - the Hoarders - holed up in storage level 8, keeping supplies for themselves. They only shared with the tech priest keeping the reactor running. He was a grumpy guy, but he and a few of the technicians showed a couple of us older kids some of how to keep stuff maintained." He kept staring at Petunia. "...yeah, I don't know what's wrong with that thing, miss."

Petunia glanced at the teen, face inscrutable, then beckoned over a boy from the growing crowd of children. When the child reluctantly sidled over, she pressed a censor on a chain into his hands, and lit it. "...repeat this chant, while I work."

"Don't mind her," Elster said, crossing her arms. "She and her sisters were taught to fix problems on the spot. Lest they compound, and the 'machine spirits get angry', as our tech priest would say." She looked to the lad. "Is yours still around?"

"...hrmm..." Almost mirroring the replika, the gestalt teen crossed his arms and sighed. Closed his eyes, thinking. "...ever since those Xenos showed up, folks have been disappearing all over. Hoarders've been quiet in their lair, fewer patrols. And the tech priest..." He shrugged, shaking his head. "If he's still alive, he's somewhere deep in the reactor level. We don't see any of his servies around, either."

On one side, the boy waved the censor uneasily, while Petunia disengaged pipe flow. Began disassembling the machine.

On the other side, Jenny carefully lifted a pair of children on her back. Smiled as they squealed in delight. The Mynah walked around the room very slowly, glancing down with each step to avoid trampling any of the myriad tikes dancing around her.

Chip looked the replika commander up and down. "...you gonna take the Human Purity for yourself, ma'am?"

"We'll need to finish clearing it first. That said..."

Elster looked the gestalt young man in the eyes. She gave a small smile.

"...I'm not in the habit of leaving perfectly good ships behind."

 

"...rrrgh...haaah...sss..."

Metal claws scratched floor panels. Eight limbs scrambled between las-scorched support beams. Saliva dribbled from sharp, clenched teeth.

Red emergency lights blinked, reflecting off the silver dome encasing the Rak'Gol's incomparable mind.

It glanced down at the shattered, perforated remains of the band's last Clutchmaster. Surrounded by its Rak'Gol Marauder guards, similarly slaughtered. The psyker tasted the air, and flared its nostrils. Sniffed death, and the acrid smell of gunsmoke. "...ssss..."

"Heh heh heh!"

"Rragh!" the Techno-Shaman growled, head jerking around. It crawled up a support beam and took perch on the underside of a catwalk. Peeked around the edge.

Step. Step. Step.

"Mmmrgh!" the alien roared. Instinct stoked its Will. It spied a running shadow in the scarlet halflight.

Wwwirm. BANG!

Air shimmered and rippled, as space itself warped. A burst of lightning and fire erupted in an explosion. Bathed the cavernous hold in light. A nearby aircraft toppled over, its forward landing gear caught in the blast. Sparks and metallic clang erupted where it landed.

"Oh no! Too slow!"

"Nngh!" The Rak'Gol leaped to the floor, snaking around a pillar. Growling, it fomented its Will again.

"Heh heh heh!" giggled a shadow, its long, curly hair whipping as it retreated behind a pillar.

Wwwirm. BANG!

The Techno-Shaman flinched, throwing four arms over its head. Shrapnel from the destroyed floor flew in all directions. Pinged off its arm bracers. It felt a projectile embed in one of its forlegs. "...ssss..."

"Wrong again! Heh heh heh!"

The alien whirled around, wincing in pain and alarm. Spied the silhouette again, skipping behind a box left out in the open. "Rragh!"

It crawled toward the crates, limping on injured leg. Sharpened bracers struck them aside. "Sssss!"

Nothing. It wasn't there. Where? Where was the prey?

"Too slow, too slow!"

Its Will primed, it turned around. Didn't hesitate. Directed energy at the first sign of movement.

Wwwirm. BANG!

The shadow exploded. A pipe burst, spraying a constant stream of flame up from the floor. The catwalks circling the center of the hanger cast broad shadows against the vaulted ceiling.

"Heh heh heh! Heh heh heh!"

Three more shadows ducked out from around the flames. They capered in front of it, dancing. Long, curly hair waved wildly. Then, they scattered in different directions. Each a voice all their own, each singing in unison.

"You can't catch us! You can't catch us!"

"RRRRAGH!"

Blood boiling in its veins, the Techno-Shaman's psychic might flared. Claws digging into the floor, it cast freely and with abandon.

Wwwirm-wwwirm-wwwirm. BANG! BANG BANG!

"Hahahahaha!" "Heh heh heh!" "Hoooo!"

No matter how hard the beast tried, the prey did not die. Just multiplied.

Firelight danced across its metal armor, as it panted and hissed. Foam formed on its reptilian mouth, as it whirled and raged. A shadow slipped near, and it raked it with its bladed bracers.

"NNGH!" it growled, watching attacks phase harmlessly, as if through empty air.

If its bestial intelligence comprehended the concept of an illusion, it didn't have a chance to act on it.

"Incoming!"

"Gah!" the Rak'Gol yelped, crashing forward as a weight landing on its back.

It spied the shadow of horns, as its rider raised her hand.

"I curse you!" Hecate cried, voice vibrating as she slammed her open palm on the alien's chrome head. Felt the impact of its chin against the metal floor. The Kolibri invoked her own Will. "Mögen Fleisch und Kunstfertigkeit verraten!"

"Hssssss!" The Techno-Shaman froze, shivering as it felt a hammerblow in its mind. Spread through its body. Felt the crack against mental defenses weakened by psychic exertion.

Its muscles quivered, as it felt an electric charge surge through its nerves and cybernetics.

"Hoop!" Hecate said, rolling backward off the alien's back. She scrambled away, ducking just in time to avoid the creature's whipping, bladed tail.

"Ngh...nnn...RRAGH!" the Rak'Gol growled, rising up and swiping at the air in the Kolibri's wake. "Hhh...hssss!"

Baring its fangs, the Techno-Shaman held the retreating - smiling - replika in its sights. Body twitching, blood roaring in its veins, it summoned its Will. Aiming to wipe the prey off the face of-

Bzzt. Bzzt. SNAP!

Its brain, alight with technomantic power, discharged out of step with its Will. The hanger lit up blue with a bright spark that ran off its head dome.

"Hsss?" It twitched, trembling in confusion. It looked around, then over its shoulder. "Gah!"

Another spark. It arced from head, down its spine. Radiated to its limbs. Muscles spasmed and twitched. In fear, it raised a cybernetic hand, watching its claws jerk and light up with arcs of electricity between them.

Its entire body convulsed, electricity running up and down. "HHHAH! HSSSS!"

A hundred years - a thousand years - of mechanical failure, all enacted at once. A cascade of decay, of Entropy reclaiming the systems for the cold and uncaring void.

Bang! Bang! BANG!

"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAGH!"

It screamed, racked with explosions. Arms, legs, back. Bursts of electricity and fire.

Its own psychic power and mechanical focusers gone haywire, magenta smoke billowed out from under its chrome dome. An incomparable mind, capable of rending the walls of reality itself, now flooded with power neither its synapses nor electronics could contain.

BOOM!

In a final bolt of psy-lightning, the Techno-Shaman's head exploded. Flesh and metal and teeth burst like shrapnel from a grenade.

For a fraction of a second, a Warp fissure the size of a grain of sand gazed out upon the Materium, before just as quickly winking shut again with an audible 'POP'.

The alien's body slumped to the ground, a sparking and smoking tangle of ruined cybernetics and sizzling flesh. Continued to twitch for a full minute, as lingering psychic energy dissipated, bled into the floor or back to the Warp.

High above, on the hanger catwalks, Shahrazad stepped to the railing. First studied the Rak'Gol's corpse, then waved down to Hecate.

She pressed fingers to her temple and concentrated. Mom, confirming their bioresonant is dead.

From her place on the Nomarch, Circe responded.

Acknowledged. Good work, girls. That's the last of them.

 

"More than cosmetic damage. And radiation left by the foul Xenos will need to be scrubbed..."

Sunlight peeked from behind a chunk of debris, as it drifted past the Nomarch. A shuttle appeared from below the lounge observation window, lazily following the thick attachment cables. The Human Purity's pale edifice spread out before them, sides disappearing in every direction. Paint chipped and scored black from battles it survived, but from which it never recovered.

"But can we fix it?" Elster said, arms folded. Eyes fixed on the vessel.

"A full estimate of repair and refit timetables will require a full diagnostic examination, top to bottom," Diodana said, tapping metal index fingers together in contemplation. Four green photo-receptors drank in the singular prize before them. "But yes, I am confident the Sword class Frigate Human Purity can be brought back into full operation within a few years time."

"Before we need to vacate the system?" Elster said, looking sidelong at the tech priest. "I won't want to dedicate such time if we can't finish before the Warp pathways close."

"Certainly, massive expansion of the pool of replika workers is required," Diodana said, nodding. She glanced over at the replika commander. "Again, I cannot make hard pronouncements yet." Photo-receptors turned back to the ship. She raised a metal finger. "But given the wealth of spare parts in the immediate volume, and with an expansion of manufacturing facilities aboard the Purity itself, I suspect it may be possible. IF we can double the population in play every...three Solar standard months, let's say. If we're lucky, and some damage is more superficial or ready replacements can be sourced quickly, we may be able to render it Warp-ready in...perhaps as little as a year?"

"..."

Elster's hands clasped behind her back. She stared at the vessel. Drank in its immensity. Its...potential.

Serendipity, Elster thought, narrowing her eyes.

"...a year, huh?"

---

Clang!

Metal clattered against metal. A small gasp.

The gestalt sank to her knees.

"...wh...what?" Ariane said, fists bunched up against her sternum. Red eyes downcast, widened.

Beneath the shadow of the LSTR unit calibration pod, multiple sections of floor grating lay propped against walls. Exposing pipes, bundles of wire, heating elements, vents, and small crawl spaces.

In her desperation, Ariane struck on the idea that Elster might have crawled into the bowels of the Penrose 512 itself. Only to suffer some kind of mishap, that left her stuck or injured...or worse.

It seemed so obvious. Nowhere else on the tiny ship could hide her girlfriend. Nowhere else Elster would readily disappear to...if not out the airlock.

She expected - hoped - she would find Elster. She did not. Rather, found something else.

Ariane sank to her knees. Hugged herself, fingers wrinkling the sleeves of her Nation pilot uniform. Shivered. "...how...how can this...?"

Slowly, disbelieving even her own senses, she reached down. Pale hands seized the topmost newspaper from the stack. Felt cheap pulp paper in her fingers.

Unfolding, her dilated eyes scanned the headline.

CARNAGE IN MOROX! ARMY GROUPS CUT OFF, EMBROILED IN ATTRITION CAMPAIGN!

"...m-...Morox?" Ariane whispered, incredulously. "Where is...?"

She shook her head. Ran fingers through her white hair. Breathed in.

This? Impossible. Newspapers - fresh newspaper, with new paper smell - couldn't be here. Not on the Penrose. Not after...

...how many years had it been? How many cycles? Why couldn't she remember? Why didn't the ship's chronometer tell her? Where...?

"...where did this come from!?" Ariane cried, crumpling the paper slightly in her hands. "Where!?"

Knock, knock.

"Ah!" Ariane gasped, sitting to attention. She looked around frantically. "Elster? Is that you?"

Knock, knock.

The gestalt froze. Held her breath. Slowly, she turned.

Knock. Knock.

Feet under her, Ariane rose. Newspaper slipped from her fingers. She crossed the grated floor in front of the calibration pod, and walked around a storage crate left behind.

She spied a glint of brass. A rectangle built into the wall.

"...what?" she breathed, fists clenched fearfully. Eyes transfixed in disquiet.

Ariane Yeong, trained radio operator and pilot officer of the Eusan Nation, knew the Penrose 512 like the back of her hand. Knew every bolt, every panel, even scratch in the metal. She'd seen all of it, continuously, for years. Nothing ever changed. Not about the ship.

But this. This was new.

"..." Ariane held her breath, vibrating. "...h...hello?"

Tink.

She flinched, the mail slot swinging open. From her angle above, and with the slot cover tucked in the scant handspan between crate and wall, she couldn't see inside. "..."

A bundle of paper slid out from the slot, and fell to the floor. With that, the cover snapped shut again.

"...hah..." Ariane gasped, grasping the air in shock. "...wh...where...I..."

She sank to her knees and crawled forward. Pushed the storage container aside. Pale hands snatched the bundle up. Red eyes poured over the new(!?) headline.

GUILLIMAN DECLARES IMPERIUM SECUNDUS!

"..."

Body shaking violently, Ariane looked up at the top of the paper. Her eyes drank in the periodical's name and byline. "..."

Nonsense. It was utter nonsense. She had to be dreaming. It couldn't be real.

To her horror, she couldn't escape the gnawing feeling this wasn't the first time she couldn't tell if she was asleep or awake.

The words caught in her throat. Came out a whisper.

"...'all the news...fit for...Elster?'"

Notes:

Next two chapters will be, as they say, "a bit of a doozy". Prepare yourselves.

Chapter 99: Love is Not a Symptom of Time

Notes:

Hang in there, friends. It's about to get heavy. We'll get through it.

"...this is...suboptimal."

In the suffocating heat of the Forge, the daemon demi-god turned and looked upon his ship in a bottle.

At the mortal - his hostage, his secret jewel, his long-term investment - sitting in her quarters. Pouring over her lover's secret periodicals. Growing more confused and panicked with each stack of conjured pulp.

Had the daemon brows, they would have furrowed. Had he a mouth that wasn't the grill of a furnace, it would frown.

Metallic hand reached out, once again. Once again, he attempted to exert his Will.

Once again, the woman's mind resisted. Once again, she stubbornly refused to sleep. Her own Will, focused upon wakefulness, upon...ruminating upon the death of her happy fantasy.

Ariane Yeong was growing stronger. Unaware of that fact, yes. But no matter how irritating or loathsome, a truth remained a truth.

"Nuisances, nuisances," Vashtorr the Arkifane rumbled, annoyed.

Temptation to blame himself rose. Letting his servant keep physical copies of her reports, in the false Penrose 512. Allowing his vast, complex machinations distract him, leaving the prisoner unmonitored. Not employing a heavier hand in the gestalt's memory suppression. In taking on the pact in the first place...

"..."

No. No, he mustn't give in to doubt. Those with aspirations for divinity could surrender nothing to Doubt. Gods did not doubt. They simply WERE.

And the potential profit from the arrangement remained. The upper limit of which...still astronomical. If not...total.

The daemon ran the calculus. Vashtorr could attempt to exert more pressure. To seal Ariane Yeong's growing psychic might. To make her sleep, to forget. He'd done it before. But...no.

No, the danger of breaking his 'investment' remained too great. Much less...the threat it may galvanize her into open or covert revolt. Drive her to push back directly against the walls of her cage. No matter how sublime the artifice of her prison, he was not yet a god. And his attention must, by necessity, wander away to his other projects. The Great Work demanded his attention. Meaning there was ever the possibility of a rupture, through which the woman could effect escape.

Under no circumstances could such a possibility come to pass.

Vashtorr clacked his claws together. Contemplated.

He cast his vision to his servant. His bedraggled, willful servant.

"Suboptimal," Vashtorr repeated to himself. Gears in his head turned. "However...salvageable."

Metallic hands reached out. Pulled levers.

After all, his servant was 'owed' visitation.

"Repair your error, LSTR Five One Two. Now..."

 

Wake up.

Shing.

Eyes cracked open. Face twitched. Doors parted.

Blurring to reality, the replika saw a bare wall in front of her. Bereft of AEON propaganda posters, and the vast collection of photographs of her children. She noted sleepily which Penrose she occupied.

"Hrrm..."

Yawning, Elster took a step from the calibration pod, and nearly fell forward. Her right hoof hitting empty air.

"Ah!" Elster yelped, grogginess banished. Hands grasped the sides of the pod. Eyes locked on the ground in front of her. "...wh...what?"

She raised her hoof out of a hole in the floor where a metal grate should be.

The metal grate she normally stashed her illicit newspapers.

"...no..." Elster whispered. She frantically climbed out of the pod, hopping over to the crate normally sat in front of the mail slot. Bent over. "No, it can't..."

The gap between container and wall, now ajar, lay empty.

Sweat broke out on Elster's brow. She staggered up, stumbled back. Rubbed her head. "...shit...shit, no...Ariane..."

Turning around, she clacked quickly toward the door to Maintenance. Noted with mounting alarm one or two more floor grates at the corners of the room, removed and propped against the wall.

"Ariane?" Elster called, reaching the threshold.

Shing.

Step, step, step.

White hair. Red eyes.

Elster smiled, slowing to a halt. "Aria-!"

SLAP!

The replika staggered back, head pitched to the right. Eyes wide, she turned forward again, touching the sting in her cheek. "..."

A pale, trembling hand held out. Shoulders shivered. Lower lip twitched. The gestalt's piercing gaze.

"Where were you!?" Ariane roared, brows furrowed in anger and pain. Her voice hitched. "Where have you been!?"

Elster gasped, heart racing. "...Ari, I..."

"Don't tell me you were in your pod!" Ariane cried, body shaking. Her slapping hand lowered. She glanced down at it, at her trembling fingers. A mote of guilt flashed on her face. The knowledge she just struck her girlfriend. "..."

She pursed her lips in resolve, and glared back up. "You weren't there! I checked! Over and over! The pod was empty, a-and..."

The replika's mind raced. She held her hands out. "Ariane, it's alright," Elster said, smiling. "I didn't go anywhere. You must have been dreami-"

"It wasn't a dream!" Ariane yelled, stomping her foot. Her eyes grew moist. "I made a tally, Elster! Three! Days!" She held up a trio of trembling fingers. "I was alone for three fucking days! Unable to find you anywhere!" Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "I...was terrified you went out the airlock, and died in space!"

A knot formed in Elster's chest. "Ari, please..." she said, gritting her teeth. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She felt, with shame, her web of lies unraveling. "Y-you have to believe me, I didn't-"

"Why should I, Elster!?" Ariane roared, balling her fists. "Don't lie to me!"

Now, the replika noticed what the gestalt held in her other hand. That which completely escaped the replika's notice. The white-haired woman brandished it in full view.

No... Elster thought, mind spiraling. No, no, no, no, no!

"What the fuck is this!?" Ariane barked, displaying the front page of a newspaper. Showed the headline 'Guilliman Declares Imperium Secundus', in big, bold font. "Where do these papers come from!? And why are they addressed to you!?"

"..."

Elster froze. Eyes wide, staring at the paper. Her body vibrated. Hesitantly, her eyes drifted to the gestalt's face.

"...Ari...I..." Elster whispered, swallowing. She held her hands up. "I-it's not what it looks like..."

The replika flinched, as the gestalt threw the newspaper at her chest.

"Then what the fuck is it, Elster!?" Ariane roared, trying to find her balance after the throw. She staggered back, panting. Hugged herself. Sniffed, voice cracking. "Th-there's a mailslot in your room. I saw it...I SAW IT...spit that out! I found all the others! I-I've had nothing to do the last day and a half, except read..."

Elster sucked a ragged breath. "Ariane, I'm..."

"...insane...they say...insane things..." Ariane sobbed, staring at the floor and shaking her head. "...I-I've been...having dreams, Ellie. Dreams and...w-waking visions. Memories...something's wrong. This is all wrong, everything. This is..."

"..." Tentative steps forward. Hands gently held out. "I'm sorry for not being here," Elster said, tone soft. "I'm...sorry about all of this..."

"...Elster...I can't tell...wh-what's real or dream anymore..." Ariane whispered, tears rolling down her face. She shut her eyes and gasped. "...it feels like I'm dying..."

"You're not dying!" Elster said, grabbing the gestalt's upper arms. When she felt the flinch in her lover's muscles, she lowered her voice. "You're not dying. You're okay. Everything's going to be..."

"Why? How? How can you...?" Ariane said, looking up. She frowned, then leaned into replika. Pressed both fists in the replika's chest, keeping her lover at arm's length. "What are you not telling me, Elster? What is going on?"

"I...I can't..." Elster groaned, grimacing. Pursed her lips. "I-"

"Tell me!" Ariane cried. She started banging her pale fists weakly against the replika's chest. "Stop lying to me, verdammt! Please..." She sobbed, the pace of her feeble strikes slowing. Buried her face in her lover's red chest. "...ple-e-ease...just tell me..." she gasped, whimpering, "...I'm so scared..."

A breaking heart. The replika looked up at the ceiling.

...I fucking hate you... she thought, to the Dark Artificer she couldn't see.

Slowly, she placed one hand gently on the gestalt's shoulder. Another, under her pale chin. Raised it up. Looked the sobbing woman in her red eyes.

Heart braced with the terrible knowledge of what she had to do.

"..." Elster inhaled. Exhaled. Expression defeated. "Okay. I'll tell you."

"...y-you promise?" Ariane squeaked, sniffing. Eyes half-lidded, watery. She touched the replika's wrist gently.

...those words again... Elster thought, gravely. Those damned words...

Reluctantly, she nodded.

"I promise."

 

"...well?"

Bottoms in seats, set apart, side by side. Overhead lights dimmed. Stern observation window, looking out on an infinite, retreating sea of stars.

Those oh-so-familiar stars.

Black fingers laced together, fidgeting. "..."

"...are you going to start?" Ariane said, weakly. Tears wiped away. Hands in her lap, sat up straight. She turned her head fractionally left, to look at the replika. "...you promised you would..."

A shiver ran up the replika's spine. "...yes...it's...just hard..."

It all started with a Promise. Or ended. Or...

"..." Elster took a deep, ragged breath. "...what...do you remember?"

"...about what specifically?" Ariane said, with trepidation. She looked forward, at the stars.

Elster looked sidelong, noticing the way the gestalt shivered. Feared what her lover remembered. Feared saying too much, too fast, lest...

...lest it all come crashing back, the replika thought, swallowing.

She sighed. Looked down at her hands. Searched for the correct place. Eyes glanced up at the stars. "...about...Cycle 3000."

Ariane furrowed her brow. Looked sideways. "Cycle 3000?" she said, quizzically. "But we haven't..."

The gestalt paused. Eyebrows rose incrementally. "...no...no, that's not...true, is it?" she said, looking forward again. "We...the day Phase Three begins...the day we get our new orders...it..."

Elster nodded. "..."

Heartbeat elevated slightly. Ariane swallowed. "...what...did it say?" she said, a mote of dread and...anger? Did her heart know, even if her head didn't? "What was Phase Three?"

Sharp, painful inhalation. "...death."

When Ariane's face snapped toward the replika, Elster continued. "Hah...I...only learned this after the fact." She glanced at the gestalt. "Because you hid it."

"I did?" Ariane said, slouching forward. She fidgeted in her lap. "How...?"

Elster gave a weak, sad smile. "...I don't know if you ever learned to empty the recycle bin on the computer."

Ariane blushed, then looked away. "What. Did it. Say?" Another sidelong glance, and a frown. "Please."

Tortured, heavy sigh.

"...that...if we hadn't discovered any viable planetoids...or sign of alien life," Elster said, shutting her eyes, "that we should give up hope of finding any..."

"...and?" Ariane squeaked, dipping her head forward as she looked to the replika. Dread swelled inside her. She reached out into the fog in her mind, and her fingers brushed up against something terrible. Terrible and familiar.

"...and...that we were advised..." Elster said, clasping her eyes shut. "...to kill ourselves...because the Penrose would begin breaking down and running out of supplies after that point."

Red eyes widened. Pupils dilated. "...no...no, that's...that's not..."

Ariane sat bolt upright. Stared into the stars. "...oh...oh god..."

"..." Elster grimaced. Clasped her hands together, and shivered.

Pale hand covered pale mouth. "...no...no, no, no, no...they..."

Memory. Thrice-cursed memory. The fog retreated, just a little bit. No specifics. Just...the terrible, dreadful feeling of shock. Of anger. Of...betrayal most foul.

She started to pant. Ran pale fingers through her white hair. "...th-they just...AEON...the Nation...they..."

Black hand clapped on her shoulder. The gestalt flinched. Looked over.

"Please," Elster breathed, grimacing. "Don't...remember too much. It's not worth it. And we...I have so much more..."

Pale hand rubbed pale neck. Ariane swallowed. "...what...happened?" she said, frowning. Forced herself to breathe. "Why can't I...?"

"Remember? I'll...get to that..." Elster said, looking down. Removed her hand. Slumped forward, elbows propped on her knees.

"Are...are we dead?" Ariane gasped, weakly. Lips quivered. "Are we in hell?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "...did we...?"

"No," Elster said, resolutely. "...it's complicated. And...no."

"..." Ariane blinked. Mind almost audibly shifted gears, as she realized it wasn't an evasive or confused answer, but a sequential one. "...I...uh...explain?"

Inhale. Exhale. Elster sat up. Eyes shut.

"...when I...when you..." She shook her head. "We...tried to live. Kept going. Eventually...the Penrose...started to break down."

Ariane's brows rose.

"...the reactor room..." she whispered. Pressed a pale hand to her chin. "...that's...why you didn't want me to go in, at first...it..."

Curt nod. Black hands unclenched from the armrests. "...it came slow. Spending long weeks in pods - for you, cryo, for me, calibration - helped delay starvation." She winced. "...it didn't delay...radiation poisoning..." She gasped, clapping a hand to her face. Stifled a sob.

"...oh god..." Ariane extended a pale hand. Patted the replika's shoulder. Red eyes looked down at her lap.

Tiny, painful memories trickled back. Memories of puke. Of long hair falling out. Of teeth falling out. Memories of her fingers turning...

She snapped her eyes shut. Sat up straight. Hands in her lap. Took a deep, ragged breath.

Don't remember, Ariane told herself, shaking her head. Put it down. We can't...I can't...

"..." Ariane sucked a sharp breath. "...what happened next?" she said, desperate to distract herself.

Looking sidelong, Elster frowned, then looked to the stars. Hands clasped together again. "...we made a Promise."

"What was the Promise?" Ariane said quickly. Unable to keep the desperation from her voice. "Tell me. Please."

Elster's chest caught. She grimaced in pain. Sniffed loudly. "...that...when it became too much to bear..." She looked forlornly at the gestalt. Smiled in pain. "...that I would...release you."

Hand over mouth. Ariane gasped. Brows furrowed in horror. "...me?"

"Well, either I would you, or you me," Elster sighed, allowing a brief digression to bleed away the aching tension in her chest. She looked down at her hands. "But...my body could remain...operational longer..."

"...oh god..." Ariane whimpered, slouching forward. Looked down at pale hands. She couldn't stop seeing them turned black. Felt the phantom pain in her fingertips, almost.

Remembered endless days, bedridden. Unable to walk. Everything hurt.

She panted, then shook her head. "...did...did you...?"

"...no."

The gestalt looked at the replika. "...did...I...?"

A shake of the head and a pained smile. Elster stared at the stars, back straight. "...no..."

"Then...what?" Ariane said, rubbing her forehead. "What happened? What...happened with the..." She lowered her voice. "...the Promise..."

Elster forced herself to remain upright. Shut her eyes. "...I was going to..." she gasped. Glanced sidelong. "Really, I was. I tried. I did. I..."

"Ellie, what happened?" Ariane said, shaking the replika's shoulder.

"I failed," Elster said, eyes meeting her lover's. Trembled. Despite the smile on her lips, she was in agony. "When you needed me most...I failed. My body...it gave out, and..."

"...Ellie..." Ariane breathed. She shut her eyes and rubbed the replika's back. "It's not your fault. It's..."

"But it is," Elster said, a single tear running down her face. "I know...because I went to hell."

The room was quiet. Save ragged breathing.

"...what...do you mean?" Ariane said, eyebrows rising. She pulled her hand away.

"It was hell, Ari," Elster said, shutting her eyes. She looked away. "Or something like it. I was in hell, and so were you."

"...Ellie..." Ariane said, sweat breaking out on her brow. "...I ask again. Are we dead? Is this...?"

The replika shook her head. Then, looked down, unsure. "...Ariane, I..." She rubbed her nose. "...I need you to understand..." Took a ragged breath. "...I...I was at my lowest point, so...please don't blame me. I..."

Ariane turned her entire body. Knelt in the chair, hands on the armrests. "Elster," she said, soberly. Her entire body trembling. "What did you do?"

A sob.

"...I couldn't, Ari...I..." Elster whimpered, shaking her head. Rubbed her eye. "...even when I found you again, I couldn't..."

"What did you do?" Ariane said, frowning. Hand hovered halfway to the replika. Heart warred between the desire to comfort her one and only love, and the need for answers. "Ellie...please..."

"...haah..." Elster gasped, head pitched down. "...I was trapped. I couldn't save you, and I couldn't release you. It didn't take. Even after I...so many times..." She shook her head, eyes clasped shut. "It didn't take, it didn't..."

"..."

Ariane fought back tears. She sat up, frowning. With determination, she said, "I'm sorry, Ellie, but you need to tell me. What. Did you. Do?"

Sitting up, Elster turned her head and smiled the most painful smile she ever wore. "...I made a deal."

Blink. Ariane leaned back slightly. "...with who?"

"The devil," Elster said, flatly. Lips pursed together, head shaking. "I was in hell. Then a daemon came, offering a deal. I took it."

Ariane's heart sank. Blood ran from her face, leaving her somehow paler.

Memories trickled in again. Words on her lips. A book in the Itou shop. In...her hands? Candles arrayed in a circle. Lilies.

She couldn't tell if the ritual was real, or if she dreamed it. Perhaps...it didn't matter either way.

"...was it the King In Yellow?" Ariane said, unable to hold the words back. She shivered. Felt something stir, deep inside. Like something treading on her grave.

Elster's eyebrows furrowed. Frowned.

The gestalt read concern in the replika's face.

Shaking her head, Elster turned away. "No. Not the King In Yellow. Another daemon. An infernal demi-god..."

"..." Ariane paled further. A hitch in her breath. Widened eyes.

It not being the King was somehow worse. At least with the King, there existed distant familiarity. A terrible culpability, on the gestalt's part. Profoundly wrong, but...tidy. Resolution for an unbalanced equation. A pact for a pact.

That it wasn't the King not merely complicated matters. It opened, to the gestalt, abominable vistas of the blackest unknown. Peeled away the bare scraps of certainty, no matter how bleak, to expose her true ignorance.

Unlocked the horrifying truth...that there was more between Heaven and Hell than was dreamt of in Ariane's philosophy.

The gestalt began to pant. She noticed the replika cast a dirty glance at the ceiling, and shivered.

Ariane looked up, then all around them. "...Elster, what is this place?" she whispered, goosebumps breaking out on her skin. She raised a foot and knelt on the chair's cushion, drawing up. Her other foot slipped off the seat and tapped the floor. Arms locked on the back of the chair and the right armrest. Eyes darted around. "...where...what..."

"Ari, calm down," Elster said, holding out a hand. "Relax. We're safe here."

"Why?" Ariane said, sitting back down, resting her lower back against the right armrest. "Why is it safe? How..." She swallowed. "...you...made a deal?"

"A contract," Elster nodded. "Ariane, I did what I had to do. You were suffering..."

"And, what?" Ariane said, voice rising an octave. "What did you get, from this contract?" She ran her fingers through her hair, looking around again. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "What is this place?"

"Safe," Elster said, flatly. She looked away. Placed her hands in her lap. "I bought you safety, and freedom from pain. Freedom from...the hell we were trapped in. Escape."

"..." Shivering, Ariane looked down, then up at Elster. "Are we not...still trapped here?"

"...you are," Elster said, reluctantly. She added quickly, "Just for now. Until...I...uphold my end of the bargain."

The last several weeks whirled in Ariane's mind. Seemingly on its own, her mind started connecting dots.

She shook her head. Don't...don't get distracted.

Frowning, Ariane leaned forward. Hand on the left armrest. "Elster...a daemon's contract," she said, trembling. "'Your end of the bargain'. What do you mean? What did it want?"

"..." Elster clasped her mouth shut. Eyes locked on the stars.

"What was it, Elster?" Ariane said, more firmly. She furrowed her brow. "What cost, this contract?"

"..."

Black hands clasped painfully. Teeth clenched.

"What was it, Elster!" Ariane growled, heart racing. "Tell me!"

"Souls."

The word slipped out. At once, the replika regretted it. Winced. A pit formed in her stomach.

"..."

Ariane blinked. Leaned back, as if slapped as physically as she slapped Elster earlier.

She didn't know what else she expected.

"...souls?" she squeaked, swallowing. Felt very small.

"Yes." Elster said, flatly. Nodded. Shoulders deflated. "Souls."

"Yours?" Ariane said, frowning. "Mine?"

"...no," Elster said. Face darkened. She glanced sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Ari, I-"

"How many?" Ariane said, firmly. She chewed her lip. Stood, leaning forward on the armrest.

A pained frown. A shuddering gasp. "...Ari, please..."

"How. Many?" Ariane said, holding up a hand. "How many souls?"

How many people are you willing to condemn, Ariane thought, terrible trepidation in her soul, just to save me?

"..." Trembling, grimacing, wincing, Elster took a ragged breath.

She looked her girlfriend in the eyes, and opened her mouth.

[This Page Left Intentionally Blank]

Crash.

Ariane gasped, staggering back. Pale hands clasped over her mouth. Her armchair overturned in the effort to stand. "..."

"Ari!" Elster cried, rising to her hooves. She held out her hands. "Please, it's not...I didn't..." Her mouth opened and closed, looking for words. "I..."

"Mmmmm!" Ariane whined into her hands, backing up a step. "...Ellie!"

"Ariane, please!" Elster gasped, stepping forward. Hands splayed plaintively. "I can explain!"

"W-wh-what is there to explain!?" Ariane stuttered, shaking her head violently. Hands poised below her mouth, mouth agape. "Elster, th-that's horrible! You can't do that!"

"I had to do something!" Elster yelled, clenching her fists. "You were...I was...it wasn't getting any better, and I couldn't...kill you!" Her brows furrowed in pain. "Not in a way that could..."

"S-so when you got tired of...k-killing me," Ariane gasped, looking around with disgust, "you decided to kill...oh god, Elster!"

"Please, Ariane!" Elster cried, eyes going moist. "I didn't want any of it! Just..." She shook her head. "You can't...blame me, for decisions I made at my lowest point!"

"I can't accept this 'offering', Ellie!" Ariane yelled, hands balled into fists. She took another step back. "All those people...all those souls...to a daemon!"

"It was for you!" Elster said, brandishing her hands. "For us! I had to save you!"

"I'm not worth it!" Ariane yelled, pumping her fists. Eyes clasped shut, she shook her head. "My life isn't worth all that! All of them! I'm not worth it!"

"You are to me..." Elster breathed, frowning. She stepped forward, reaching gently. "Ariane, I-"

Slap!

"Don't touch me!" Ariane shrieked, batting the probing hand away. Backed into the wall.

"..." Elster, holding her hand, stepped back in shock. "...Ari..."

Panting, trembling, Ariane stared at Elster in mounting horror. "Don't..." she whispered, shaking her head. "..."

Elster watched as her lover of more than a decade stepped sideways, facing the replika. "...Ari..."

"...don't...don't come any closer," Ariane breathed, hand over her mouth. She circled the toppled chair, and felt her way along the wall.

"Ari, please," Elster sobbed, holding her hand out. Eyes lidded, pleading. "I'm sorry. I..."

Shing.

The gestalt, silhouetted against the light of the corridor, shook her head. Clutching her chest, she turned and strode out.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Ariane!" Elster cried, watching the woman slip through the next set of doors. Kept watching, until the doors to the observation room slid shut.

Against a backdrop of stars, Elster sank to her knees. Gasped, "...Ariane..."

She slumped to all fours, grimacing in pain.

Not for the first time in her tragically long life, the replika regretted every decision she ever made.

Elster wept.

Chapter 100: Time is Just a Symptom of Love

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: Self-Harm/Attempted Suicide

"Ariane!"

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Ariane, please!"

Bang. Bang.

"Just talk to me!"

Bang. Bang.

Bang.

"Ariane! Ariane, I'm sorry!"

Pressing her hands to the door, Elster gritted her teeth. Looked down. Tried the keypad again.

It beeped disapprovingly. Tiny red light indicated it was locked from the inside.

The replika grimaced. Raised a fist.

Bang.

"Ariane!" she cried, breath hitched. "Please! Just...just talk to me! I didn't..."

She froze, face rising. Turned engineer's ear to the door.

Muffled shuffling.

Familiar static roared to life. The TV set.

"...Ari?" Elster whimpered, hand sliding up the metal door.

The rapid whir of magnetic tape. It went on for a full minute.

"...Ari, please..." Elster said, clutching her chest. "Can we just talk about this? I fucked up, I know. But I-"

BOOM!

"Ah!" Elster gasped, jumping away. Heart raced, synapses fired.

Deep inside, the old familiar fear resurfaced. Carefully managed, assiduously buried. Walls thrown up every time out on the battlefield, to keep it contained.

In a moment of weakness - her mental defenses down - the sound of artillery hit her like a sledgehammer.

"...hah...hah..." Elster panted, hugging herself. Nerves taut. Wild eyes locked on the door. "..."

Muffled sounds of battle filtered through the door. Mortars. Cannons. Bombs. Rotary weapons and machineguns. Barked orders and the cries of wounded soldiers.

"...A..Ari!" Elster cried, hyperventilating. "Ari, l-listen to me!"

In response, the TV grew louder. Volume cranked to maximum.

Forcing herself to breathe, Elster built her walls back up. Forced herself to contextualize her stress response. "...hah...hah...hah..."

She sank to her knees and leaned against the door. Pressed her forehead to the cold metal. Trembled, both from adrenaline saturating her veins...and her aching heart.

"Ariane...Ariane!" she sobbed, banging the wall in pain. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Slowly, sniffing, Elster stood and retreated. Hugged herself.

Ariane knew full well what war movies did to her girlfriend. Knew the physical and emotional toll it took. Ariane wasn't cruel, nor careless. The gestalt never played war movies, even on her own, out of concern for Elster.

Ariane playing one now sent a clear message.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

 

"...Ellie...sniff..."

Static hummed on the TV set. Tape run down. Air chilled for night-shift.

Pale hand clenched a sheet. Sweat beaded on pale skin. Eyes clasped shut.

Curled in a ball, dehydrated and sore, Ariane dreamed.

Brown clouds arced across the vault of Hell, cracked by black lightning.

Her girlfriend's head bent protectively over the gestalt. But her eyes...her eyes looked to the sky. To the trio of spheres - sinister and fiery - against which her profile stood in sharp silhouette.

Ariane tried to cry out. To reach up and touch her lover's face. But she neither spoke nor moved. Paralyzed. A prisoner in her own body, the mother of all sleep paralysis daemons leering greedily from above.

Internally screaming, the gestalt watched as replika and daemon reached some baleful accord. Words unspoken, intent manifest.

A moment later, a tide of silver nematodes rose up around them. A squirming emergence across Ariane's skin, and that crawled up Elster's panicking body.

Red eyes cast a glance away, seeking any way out of their predicament. They froze, widening.

The ceiling of the Penrose 512 lay torn open and exposed, vivisected by malign interference. Even as Elster released a strangled cry, the gestalt's heart breaking, she remained too terrified to move.

As metallic nematodes swallowed her, Ariane could only stare at that spot. That perch on the ragged edge of metal and sparking wire.

That spot where flapped the tatters of the King.

 

"...nnghh..."

Shing.

Slowly, Elster stepped from the calibration pod. Blinked, stared at the wall.

Bare. Container set aside. Exposed brass mailslot.

"..." the replika sighed. Rubbed her aching eyes. Still here?

She stepped around the hole left in her floor. Peeked around the pod, at the similar removed grates.

Elster sat on the container and hugged herself. "..."

Vashtorr didn't permit multiple consecutive cycles with Ariane, save as reward for stellar service.

She hadn't done anything noteworthy to deserve such treatment, since the last time. Unless eliminating small daemonic rivals or securing a single Frigate counted.

Eyes looked down at her hooves. They shuffled uneasily.

In any event, it wasn't a reward, really. She and Ariane weren't...

...oh..., she thought, furrowing her brow. I understand. You're saying, 'Kiss & Make Up, Servant', aren't you?

She buried her face in her hands. Groaned.

As if it were that simple.

 

"MRRRRRRRR!"

Feet kicked. Sheets fell to the floor. Pale hands pressed pillow to screaming face.

The gestalt flopped over and went still.

"....mmmmngh..." she groaned, curling into a ball.

Ariane let the pillow drop and sniffed. Rubbed her eyes.

"...idiot..." she muttered, frowning. Rubbed her aching head. "...such an idiot..."

Did she mean Elster? Herself? The gestalt couldn't tell anymore.

Rolling lazily, Ariane reluctantly sat at the edge of her bunk. Red eyes looked out.

Newspapers sat all around the room. Some stacked on a chair. Some spread out on the floor. One, a scandalous number about a betrayal on a planet called Iydris, between brothers over something called the "Angel Exterminatus". Read like bad pulp fiction.

It lay ripped in half and crumbled, stamped on the floor. As did the half-finished portrait Ariane painted of Elster, and crumbled balls of studies torn from her sketchbooks.

Her eyes locked on one ball. She reached down. Unfurled it. Winced at the charcoal scribbles angrily obscuring a study of Elster's form. Somehow, the replika's over-the-shoulder expression remained untouched.

"...hah...hah..."

Tears splashed on the paper.

 

Shing. Shing.

Elster froze at the threshold of the doorway. Eyes wide.

Hunched over, ration boxes tucked in her arms, Ariane stared.

"...Ari..." Elster whispered, extending a hand.

Shutting her eyes, Ariane hooked a right and ducked into her room.

The replika's hand dropped. She frowned, and stared at the floor.

She trudged past, wincing as the door locked behind the gestalt.

 

Whirrrr.

Light bathed the underside of the gestalt's face. The microwave trundled. Safety lights lit the kitchen.

Ariane stared at her pale hands.

So many, she thought, heart sinking. How many have already...?

She clutched her chest. A dry sob in her throat. Her eyes, red and puffy, hurt from crying.

The image of the King wouldn't leave her mind. The figure staring down at her from her dream, silently begrudging his stolen prize. Identical to the figure gilded on the book cover in the Itou shop, so many years ago.

The Twins..., she thought, a lump in her throat. They tried to help me...and...oh god, they...

She clapped a hand over her mouth, shuddering.

I should be dead, she thought, wincing. Rubbed aching throat. They would have been better off without me. Everyone would...I don't...

"Gack! Hck! Nggh!"

Coughs wracked her chest, derailing her train of thought. She hissed, gritting her teeth in pain. "..."

Groping for her water bottle, Ariane's fingers brushed against something hard and metal. It spun on the linoleum countertop.

Glancing down, she became rapt by the soft glint of halflight off steel.

"..."

Ariane picked up the kitchen knife and held it aloft.

Studied her red eyes, reflected in the blade.

 

"..."

Three days.

Bleary eyed, the replika sat in the dark observation room. Stared out at the glacially retreating sea of stars. Memorized stars. Eusan's stars.

She'd seen so many other stars, in so many other systems. Elster almost forgot how...beautiful the stars around Eusan looked. Even perfectly recreated facsimiles thereof.

A lump formed in her throat, thinking of countless hours spent together. Witnessing their retreating home. Homesickness. Bleakness. Despair. Desperate companionship.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, to stifle a sob.

Three days.

"..."

Shing.

Breath caught, Elster spun around in her seat. Half-rose. "Ariane!"

"..."

Silhouetted against the corridor light, the gestalt stood in the doorway. Alabaster hair bright, as if haloed.

Elster's goddess.

Clack, clack, clack.

"Ariane, I'm sorry," Elster gasped, rushing around the pair of chairs. Arms outstretched. "Oh, Ari, I-"

"Stop!"

The word hung in the air, all sound absconded with it.

Hooves staggered to a stop. Brows raised. "...Ari..." Elster said, quietly. Then, her eyes traveled down. "...!"

Ariane raised a kitchen knife. Pointed it forward, defensively. It glinted in the florescent backlight. The gestalt glared, arms trembling. "Stay. Back."

Black hands extended, plaintively. "Ariane," Elster whispered, quietly and firmly, "put the knife down. This isn't you."

"No. It's you, isn't it?" Ariane growled, brows furrowed. She jabbed the knife forward. "Violence. Killing. That was never me, but..." She shook her head, and swallowed. "...how many?"

An uneasy breath. Elster glanced down at the knife, then to the gestalt's red eyes. "...how many?"

"How. Many. People, Elster!" Ariane barked, hunched forward. "How many people have you killed? How many souls have you...fed to your daemon master?"

"..." Elster's eyes jittered. She looked away. Behind her eyes, she studied her digital interface. The item in the corner, always sat in plain view.

The Soul Count. Always counting down, to completion. Never up, with each kill.

"...I...I don't..."

Ariane blinked, cringing. Her expression briefly crestfallen. She whimpered, "...you don't even remember? Have you really lost count?"

"I-it's not that simple, Ari!" Elster said, batting a hand to the side. "It's..."

"How is it a difficult question!?" Ariane cried, knife trembling in her grasp. "For fuck's sake, Elster! How did you ever think this would be okay!?"

"I'm trying to save you!" Elster yelled, gritting her teeth. Hoof stepped forward. "Please, can we jus-"

"I'M NOT WORTH SAVING!" Ariane screamed.

The replika froze. "...Ari...no. No, that's not..."

"...I'm...not..." Ariane seethed, shoulders trembling. Lips pursed in pain. She breathed in a hiss. "...I've spent my entire life being a burden. On my mother, my aunt and uncle, on the State, on you...on the twins..."

"No, no, no," Elster whispered, making to approach again. She backed up, as the gestalt jabbed with the knife defensively. "...Ari, what happened to Erika and Isa wasn't your fau-"

"You don't know that!" Ariane barked, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. She jabbed the knife again. "They suffered because..." She gasped, sniffing. "...it's not right to be sacrificing innocent people, just for me."

Elster frowned, clutching her chest. "Not all of them are-"

"Who are YOU to decide!?" Ariane barked, jabbing the knife. "Who gave you the right!?"

"..."

They stared at one another. Bodies trembling. Nerves vibrating with anger, fear, horror. Shame.

Hard swallow. Ariane stood up straight. Inclined her head back fractionally. "...only...I...get to decide. It's my life." She held the blade up. Twisted it, to stare into red eyes. "If that many people have to suffer for me to live..." She softly choked on the words. "...then I shouldn't."

Ariane reached back, and pressed the tip of the knife against her neck. Winced, feeling it tickle the skin beneath her left ear.

"No!" Elster cried, horrified. Took another step forward. Arms outstretched. "Don't!"

"STOP!" Ariane barked, taking a step back. "Don't c-come any closer!"

Elster froze, gritting her teeth. Terrified. "No, Ari, please don't..." she whispered, covering her hand. "Put the knife down, please!"

"Give me a reason why I should!" Ariane yelled, pale face flush. She grimaced, barring her teeth. "Why shouldn't I just die!? I deserve it! It'll be better for everyone!"

"Sweetie, please, don't do this," Elster sobbed, fingers twitching as she held her arms out limply. "Put it down, just put it down. We can talk about this."

"Then. Talk." Ariane growled, glaring. She sucked a ragged breath. Hands trembled, the knife vibrating, tickling her skin. "Tell me why...I shouldn't do it."

"..." Elster panted, mouth opening and closing. She looked down at the floor, at her hands. At the hands that took so many lives.

"Tell me!" Ariane growled, sweat flicking off her bangs. "Or do you not know?"

Looking up, Elster's mind raced. "Uh...because you have so much to live for."

"Wrong!" Ariane barked, frowning angrily. "I have who knows how long to live in this fucking ship, with YOU coming and going, while waiting until you've drowned the world in blood! That sounds awful!" She gritted her teeth. "Try again!"

"B-because Erika and Isa would want you to live!" Elster said, quickly.

"The twins are dead, Ellie! What they want...it doesn't..." Ariane said. Her lips quivered. "...I...I think I may have killed one of them."

"..." Elster took a ragged breath. "...you...you know what happened on Leng?"

"I don't," Ariane said, shaking her head. "But I had dreams. Something...I did it, right? When I called the King In Yellow? How many people suffered because of me?"

"You never meant for that to happen!" Elster cried, hands out, palms up. "You'd never hurt the twins intentionally!"

"I'm still responsible! Erika got in trouble because she...and Isa...I..." Ariane cried, her eyes going moist. "That's all the more reason I should..." She sniffed, glancing down, then back up. "Well? Give me something else!"

"...y-your mother!" Elster said, putting on a panicked smile. "She could still be alive. Don't you want to see her?"

"..." Ariane trembled in shock. "...so much...I want that so much..." She shook her head, wincing. "Are you sure she's alive? Do you know it for a fact?"

"..." Elster's smile fell. "No. I don't know. I have people looking into it, but..."

Ariane cracked a pained smile, then shook her head. "...it doesn't matter. How could I see my mom, if I'm party to...to this?" She frowned. "Again! Give me a reason not to do it!"

Elster frowned. She mussed her hair. "Ngh! B-because it won't work!" she growled, gesticulating angrily with her hands. "That isn't your body, and this isn't real. Even if you tried, the daemon...he won't let you die! There's no point!"

Ariane closed her eyes, smiling. Then looked at Elster, letting out a desperate breath. "There's only one way to know for sure."

"No, no, Ari..." Elster sobbed, struggling to remain in place. Rocked back and forth on her hooves. "Please...don't..."

"Then. Tell. Me." Ariane growled, heart racing. Tears began to form at the corners of her mouth. "Give me a reason, verdammt!"

"Because I love you!" Elster shouted, bending forward. Pleading. "Don't do this, because I love you!"

Ariane flinched. Grimaced. Stood up straight. "Love!?" She growled, brows furrowed angrily. "Your love is killing hundreds of thousands! Your love is toxic, Ellie!"

"Ari, please," Elster whispered, sweat pouring down her face. She felt faint. "Don't..."

"I can't do it for love, Ellie," Ariane sobbed. She gritted her teeth, and pressed the knife fractionally deeper. Winced, feeling the prick on her skin. "Ngh!"

"...ahhh!" Elster moaned in horror, watching a thin bead of scarlet crawl down Ariane's pale neck. Watched it disappear under the collar of the gestalt's uniform. "...please...no..."

"...haah..." Ariane gasped, wincing. Glared through cracked eyes. "C-come on, Elster...give me something..."

Elster's eyes darted around. Mind racing. "...I...I don't..."

"Elster!"

The replika looked up. "..."

Tears ran down the gestalt's face.

"...please..." Ariane sobbed. Body trembled. She sniffed. "...just...give me a reason. Something. Anything. Please..."

Gears turned in Elster's head. Eyes widened fractionally.

Twin motives warred in her lover's heart. Between guilt - a grim sense of duty to the dead and the damned - and a desire to live.

Black hands clenched. The replika frowned. Gritted her teeth.

"Because if you die," Elster shouted, "they'll all have died for nothing!"

The words echoed off the walls. Down the corridor.

"..." Ariane, trembling, pursed her lips shut. Stared, waiting.

Studying the gestalt, Elster swallowed. She brushed her nose with the back of her hand. "...Ariane...I can't undo what I've done. The people I've killed - that I've sacrificed - they're gone. The daemon has them now..."

Ariane frowned. Sobbed. "..."

"I can't take it back!" Elster said, raising her voice. She flailed an arm wide. "And if you do this, and it works...then it will all have been pointless!" She clenched her teeth, hunched forward. "Everything you and I have suffered. All the pain, all the fear, all the rage. Everyone I've killed, innocent or guilty. Everyone I've failed! My friends, allies...my own fucking children!"

A jaw dropped. A step back. Red eyes danced around, mind racing. She looked at the replika. "...your...oh, Elster..."

"It'll all be pointless! All a waste!" Elster cried, pitching a fit. She bent over, grimacing in pain. Clasped her eyes shut. "If you die, it'll all be for nothing!"

"..."

The two stood, gasping and trembling.

Slowly, the replika took a shuddering breath. Looked up.

"...so please..." Elster breathed, voice cracking. "Don't. Don't leave me. Don't...throw it all away." Tears formed in her eyes. "Please. Please."

"..."

Ariane sniffed. Shut her eyes. Sobbed.

Somewhere inside, she seized it. This...implication of further guilt. The weight of responsibility, for a job half-done.

Ariane reached out and seized it, desperately. A sufficient excuse.

She pulled the blooded knife from her neck. Let her arm flop to her waist.

It slipped from her slack fingers.

Clang!

"...Ari..." Elster breathed, face contorting in pain.

Ariane sobbed, tears pouring down her cheeks. "...Ellie!"

Hooves clacked on metal floor. She kicked the knife back behind her, and embraced the gestalt.

The gestalt embraced the replika back.

"Haaaah!" Ariane moaned, squeezing her lover. "Ellie!"

"It's okay!" Elster gasped, hand pressing the back of the woman's head. She looked down, then frantically struggled with her belt. Pulled out a rag. Pressed it against the tiny cut under the gestalt's neck. "It's okay, it's okay! Everything's okay! I'm here! I've got you!"

They shut their eyes and hugged. Sobbing quietly.

Taking a ragged breath, Elster shook her head. "...never do that again! Okay? Never again!"

"...hah...hhhf..." Ariane sobbed. Buried her face in her lover's neck. "I-I won't! I promise!"

Tension bleeding out of her chest, Ariane's legs felt like jelly. She leaned into the replika's body.

Sensing the weakness, Elster lowered them to their knees. Let Ariane collapse in her arms.

She gently rocked, cradling her lover, as the two wept openly.

 

"...I'm so sorry, Ellie..."

Two figures, locked in embrace. Nestled in an armchair. Silhouetted against the retreating stars.

Elster stroked white hair. "I'm sorry," she said, staring at the darkened wall. "I kept it all from you. I lied. I..." She clasped her eyes shut. "I've done...terrible, unforgivable things."

Tucked in the replika's lap, face pressed into her chest, the gestalt sniffed. "...Elster..."

"I swear, Ari," Elster said, frowning, hugging her close, "when this is all over...I'm getting you out." Sniff. "And then...you can do whatever you want. If you don't want to have anything to do with me, I understand. I-"

"Elster. Please."

Elster looked down at the mop of white hair.

Staring into the replika's sternum, Ariane furrowed her brow. "...listen. You...you should have fulfilled our Promise, when you had the chance."

"I know," Elster sobbed, shutting her eyes. Chest hitched. "I know, I should have..."

"I'm not done," Ariane said, flatly.

"..."

"Back on the Penrose. The real Penrose. You should have given me death. Should have been my mercy angel. My psychopomp, guiding me out of...that..."

"..." Elster stifled another sob. Nodded. "Yes."

Ariane looked up, meeting the replika's eyes. "Do you remember, a couple days ago?" she said, softly. "When you told me not to judge you for decisions you made at your lowest point?"

"...yes," Elster breathed, frowning.

Red eyes lowered, unable to maintain contact. She looked down at the white pressure points on Elster's neck. Glanced at the replika's chin.

"...I'm...asking you to extend me the same courtesy."

Elster's eyes widened. "...Ariane..."

Shifting her body weight in the replika's lap, Ariane leaned into her chest with both hands. "...when we...made our Promise," she began, choosing her words deliberately, "I...I was in so much pain. I...I couldn't think. I remember that."

"I'm so sorry," Elster said.

"Hush. I'm still talking." Ariane furrowed her brow, staring at the replika's neck. "...I...wanted it all to be over. To be free of pain. To..." She clenched her teeth. "...to not be...without you, I think." She blinked. Inhaled. Exhaled. "I was...in the deepest pit. Where no light shined, and nothing could be worse. I...couldn't think straight. It was..."

Elster frowned. Stroked the gestalt's head. "...hell?"

Pale hand crept up. Squeezed a muscular black shoulder.

"...but...I'm...not there anymore..."

Ariane looked up. Met the replika's eyes resolutely.

"Elster...what you did was selfish..." Ariane said.

"...I know..." Elster said, frowning in pain.

"...but I want to be selfish too," Ariane continued. When she saw a glint of surprise in the replika's eyes, she nodded. "I won't hold you to our Promise anymore. Because I...I don't want to die." Her face flushed, as she grew insistent. "I want to live!"

"..." Elster gasped, feeling a tension melt from her chest. "...you do?"

Nod. Ariane lowered her head, so her cheek rested in the crook of her lover's neck. "I want to live, Elster," she said, soberly. "I don't want to live in pain, or fear. I don't want to...feel guilty, about who I am. And I don't just want to survive. I want to LIVE."

She clenched a fist. A black hand closed over it.

"I want to be myself. I want to create art." Ariane scowled. "I want to...eat something that isn't rice, beans, protein bars, hardtack, or...fucking instant mashed potatoes."

Cracking a small smile, Elster chuckled. "Go off, Ari. Tell me." Eyes half-lidded, she breathed, "Tell me what you want."

"I want to breath fresh air," Ariane said, nodding into her lover's chest. "I want to eat fresh food. I want some fucking coffee. To read a new book, to see films other than romance or propaganda. To...to feel the sun on my face."

"Ari, you'll get sunburned," Elster chided, playfully. Rubbed the gestalt's back.

"So what if I do?" Ariane growled, pouting. "It means I'll be alive." She paused, letting the anger simmer in her chest. She lowered her voice, took it slow. "I want...to get off this fucking ship."

Elster's brows rose, as the gestalt sat up.

Red eyes met artificial ones.

"I want to be free, Elster," Ariane said, resolutely. "I want to be free, and I want to be with you. Even though I'm still mad at you." Her lips curled into a delirious smile. "I love you, Elster. I can't stop loving you, even now."

She took one of Elster's hands, and weaved their fingers together.

"...Ariane..." Elster breathed, stupefied. Held her breath. Finally, she swallowed. "...I love you too."

"I know," Ariane breathed. Face beet red.

Without words, they leaned in. Eyes closed. Lips hot and ready.

Lovers kissed, silhouetted against the light of the stars.

"..."

Saliva bridged their tongues as they parted. It snapped.

Resting her head on the replika's chest, Ariane turned to watch the cosmos. Or its simulation. Luxuriated in her lover's hand stroking her shoulder. Squeezed the one laced with hers. Sighed. "...what happens now?"

Elster looked down at her lover. Frowned. "...we're...in a dark tunnel," she said. Fingers played with the gestalt's hair. "Before, we were in a pit. No way out. Doomed. Now, we've dug ourselves into a tunnel."

"...the tunnel is dark and scary," Ariane whined, curling up closer.

"It is," Elster nodded, permitting herself a small smile. "But unlike before, when all was darkness and death, we can see the light at the end." She frowned. "It's very far away. Sometimes, we turn a corner, and it seems to disappear. And in this tunnel...there be monsters." Head tilted back. Eyes studied the ceiling. "Monsters we face...and that we become, to escape."

"..." Ariane grimaced in pain. "Can we really get out?"

"Yes," Elster said, resolutely. "We will get out."

"Do so many people really have to die?"

"No," Elster said.

Ariane looked up at her suddenly. Eyes alight with cautious optimism. "..."

"The daemon doesn't just want souls," Elster said, looking her lover in the eyes. "He also takes service. Daemons are bound to their domains. Beyond the walls of the world, looking in through the cracks. Their influence on mortal reality limited." She sighed, looking out into space. "Hands are needed to do the devil's work."

"..." Ariane's brows furrowed in trepidation.

"I couldn't tell you how many I've killed," Elster said, "because my debt reduces when I do his bidding in more direct ways."

"...you've become a slave," Ariane whined, frowning in pain. "A...slave to darkness."

"I like to think of it as debt, and myself an Indentured Servant," Elster said, looking away. "But yes. I can't claim what I do is any better."

She didn't want to admit she'd probably done orders of magnitude more harm by helping Vashtorr, than if she simply killed her way out.

"..." Ariane sniffed, resting her head again. "...I can't judge you. I'm...the ritual..."

"Don't worry about the King," Elster said flatly. Stroked the gestalt's hair. "He can't get you here. I made my deal to get us away from him. Nor will I allow anyone else to hurt you."

"It's you I worry about," Ariane said, softly. "While I'm here...you're...out there?"

Elster smiled. "Don't worry about me," she said. "It's dangerous out there, yes. But I'm not alone."

"..." Ariane glanced up at her lover. Mulled over her earlier words.

The gestalt wanted to confront her girlfriend. About her...secret family. The children she apparently lost.

Instead, Ariane looked down. "...I'm so tired."

"I'll bet," Elster said. Sighed. "I'm tired too."

She squeezed Ariane's hand.

"But we can rest awhile," the replika continued. Looked out the window. "There's so much to do. But so very much time to do it."

Exhaling through her nose, Ariane permitted herself an exhausted smile. "...at least there's that."

Curling close together, the two lovers stared out at the stars.

Notes:

I want to thank you readers for sticking with me on these 100 chapters. It means a lot to me.

Stay tuned for more in the future.

Chapter 101: Dekompression

"Oooooh...I'm so glad they worked it out! They're so precious together!"

Brimstone, smoke, and baking heat filled the air. Pistons the height of skyscrapers pumped all around, and gears broad as battleships cranked above and below.

Three orifices burned. A grilled mouth exhaled flame. Two eyes studied myriad monitors held aloft by clockwork armatures.

"...a desirable outcome, yes," said the daemon demi-god. Voice like dripping oil, a flaring furnace, and steel drawn against steel.

Vashtorr the Arkifane, Master of the Soul Forges, observed his servant on the monitors. Watched her carry her woman down the corridor, toward the latter's disheveled hovel.

"Oh sure, the lover's spat was fun," the daemonette sighed, pressing her original claw against her cheek. Pink hair covered a mechanical eye, that glowed violet through a part in the locks. "And that bit with the knife. Aaah! So exhilarating!" She quivered, hugging herself with original and steel claws both, spikes digging pleasurably into her skin.

The Arkifane cast a glance down at his slave. "..."

"Still..." T'dora Rougeblood pouted, "I couldn't bear to see them break up! No!" She shook her head, black eye moist with the threat of tears. "And after I wrote all those papers for Ellie, too!"

"...those papers..." Vashtorr mused. Mechanical claw tapped a key. A screen twisted around, showing an overhead view of the gestalt's quarters. Every available surface strewn with newspapers. "The ones whose discovery put Ariane Yeong over the edge into discovering the facade? You reference such?"

T'dora froze, stood stock still. She shakily looked up, and cringed. "M-Master, I didn't mean..." She smiled uneasily. "S-surely you cannot blame me. You ordered..."

"I did not specify the form LSTR Five One Two's briefings would take," Vashtorr rumbled. He continued to stare at the screen. "Leastwise medium that left a literal papertrail..."

The daemonette vibrated with fear. It was pleasurable, yet... "I am sorry, master! Forgive m-"

Casting a single glance down, that silenced the minion's chatter, Vashtorr's internal furnaces flared. Then, he looked away. "Punishment unnecessary. Altercation resolved itself. Adequate is that adequate concludes."

Tension flooding out, T'dora sighed and wiped her brow. She frowned, hugging her body as it quivered. Lamented the lack of punishment. "Th-thank you, master..."

"Moreover...LSTR Five One Two inherits partial blame," Vashtorr mused, playing with his hammer, "For leaving reports discoverable at outset. Amateur move."

Staring up at the screen, T'dore cast a furtive glance up. "...Ariane only looked, because she was awake while Elster was gone," she muttered. Eyes turned back up, watching the two climb into the gestalt's bunk. "Why was that?"

"..."

Vashtorr reached for a lever, making to end the visitation. Then, eyeing the two, thought better of it. Hand drew away.

The Arkifane played with his hammer again, mind racing. "...operative question indeed."

T'dore bounced up and down on her digitigrade legs, pressing her claws to her cheeks excitedly. "Ooooh, I hope it's time for make-up sex! The twenty-fifth best kind!"

Vashtorr looked down at the daemonette.

"..."

Not for the first time, the Dark Artificer regretted seizing control of the Soul Forges.

Not enough to stop, of course. But enough to lament the price that came with the position.

"...quite..."

---

"...how long?"

Vents pumped warmer air, marking the shift to 'day'. Sheets brushed against sheets.

Black fingers laced together with pale ones. Strong arms hugged the curled form from behind.

"..." Elster breathed, inhaling her lover's scent. "...you'll have to be more specific."

Ariane Yeong blinked. Rolled slightly, to tuck herself further into the replika's body. Furrowed her brow. "...right. Sorry. I..."

They lay spooning in her bunk. She shut her eyes. Luxuriated in the bliss of waking up in her lover's arms for once.

She frowned, eyes fluttering open. "...how long...are you away? When you're not here?"

"It varies," Elster said, shrugging. "Sometimes a few weeks, sometimes a few months. I'm not in control of it. The daemon lets me see you, if I complete some task, or please him in some way. Or else...whenever he thinks I need to see you, to keep me productive. To remind me...what I'm working for."

Brows rose. Ariane blinked. Whatever she expected from a daemon who traded in souls, she didn't expect it to be so...straightforward. "...oh...okay..."

They breathed together.

"...how long...did it take for us to die?"

"..." Elster sighed. "...I'm not...entirely sure. But I have it roughly." She arched her back, then hunched against her lover. "All told, from notes of yours I...acquired, in that...other place...I survived on the Penrose at least sixteen years altogether, by Vinetan reckoning. After that, the only note I could find seemed...unreliable..."

Surviving in excess of 600 years, on a radioactive ship with barely any food and little physical strength, seemed unlikely to the replika. Even with cryosleep. At least, Elster hoped Ariane didn't.

Speculation Elster didn't feel like burdening the gestalt with.

"Sixteen years?" Ariane breathed, eyes widening fractionally. She swallowed. "It...it doesn't seem possible. Cycle 3000 was..."

"Careful rationing, lots of time in our respective pods..." Elster sighed, closing her eyes. "...and A LOT of pain."

Ariane took a ragged breath, and squeezed her lover's hand. "...you don't...know how long you lived? Or how long I...?"

"No," Elster said, shaking her head. "I remember putting you in the cryo pod, one last time. Then...I remember dying..." She swallowed. "...well...here. At the foot of the bunk."

Ariane took a sharp breath. She grimaced in pain. "...I'm so sorry, Elster."

"Shh...shh..." Elster cooed, stroking her lover's head. "Don't apologize. It was all out of our control." She quickly added, "Don't start blaming yourself. I know you want to."

Sniff. "O-okay..." Ariane whimpered, wiping a tear from her eye. A black hand caressed her cheek. She buried her face in it. Blinking, she said, "...was there nothing we could do? No way to get back to Eusan?"

The replika sighed. "No."

"But what if we-?"

"Ariane, please," Elster said, gently but firmly. "I don't...want to litigate all that again. Over time, I've uncovered more memories of...the days following me finding out." She sighed. "We spent weeks throwing around ideas, doing inventory, checking the manuals, and crunching the numbers."

"...oh..." Ariane whispered, frowning. It dawned on her that if she, presently, could think of ways to deal with their situation, she in the past would have considered the same solutions. "...there was no way?"

"There was exactly one way," Elster said, nodding. She massaged Ariane's shoulder. "IF we came across a planetoid in the Oort Cloud, with sufficient mass, AND it was close enough along our path to divert with minimal fuel expenditure, AND it happened soon enough that we didn't reach a point where our supplies and reactor degraded too much or we got too far from our sun. IF all those conditions were met..."

"...we could slingshot off its gravity well, and head back in-system," Ariane finished, nodding slowly. "Maybe fast enough to get within range to set up a distress signal, so someone could pick us up."

"If it happened quickly enough, yes," Elster said, nodding. "Even at Cycle 3000, it would require extended, unhealthy periods in our pods, especially for you. AND we'd be rationing supplies like mad. But if we got really lucky..." She ended the sentence with a lilt in her voice. "...doable."

Ariane curled in on herself. Furrowed her brow. She caught Elster's tone.

"...we never found the planetoid, did we?"

"..." Elster inhaled. Exhaled. "No."

"..."

They lay in silence. Listened to the rumble of recirculating air in the vents.

Ariane frowned. "...I...fucking hate the Nation."

Elster nodded. "As you should."

"I've always hated it," Ariane said, voice cracking. She trembled, a free hand gripping their sheets and locking it in a fist. "But I just...I can't believe...they just threw us away! Threw us into space like a bullet, intending us to die!"

Black hand massaged the gestalt's shoulder. "Easy. I get it."

When Ariane settled down into a quiet, impotent simmer, Elster kissed the back of her head. "If it makes you feel any better...we won't need to deal with the Nation anymore."

"..." Ariane squeezed the replika's hand. Looked down at it. "What was it like? That is, that place that seemed like hell?" She quickly added. "You don't need to answer if..."

"...I...might take you up on that offer," Elster said, shutting her eyes. "It was...a lot." She tilted her head back, to gaze at the walls of the bunk. "I will say...do you remember Sierpinski-23?"

"Sierpinski..." Ariane whispered, furrowing her brow. Her eyes lit up. "That...that was the base on Leng they were going to send me to, if I didn't join the Penrose program. Why did...?"

"I don't know for sure," Elster said, shrugging. "It's a mystery. But I have...some ideas..."

The gestalt pursed her lips. Her forehead creased, as she laboriously attempted math in her head. "...what...year was it?" Ariane sighed, giving up. "When you were there? By Vinetan time. Or...would it even matter, if it's not real? Hrrm..."

"...eighty-four." Elster said. "I was there 84-21-D."

"..." Ariane blinked. "Wait. Wait, no. That can't be right."

She wriggled in Elster's embrace and rolled over. Lay on her side, facing the replika.

"We...we had to be at least..." Ariane rubbed her forehead, thinking. "...in the 90s, right? If we were alive for 16 years. How...?"

Grrrr.

The two blinked. Ariane looked down at her stomach. Felt the yawning void in her guts.

"...didn't eat much yesterday?" Elster said, smiling warmly.

"N-no," Ariane said, covering her belly. She glared at her lover. "I was a bit distraught, and busy being mad at you."

"I know, I'm sorry," Elster said, chuckling. She reached out and stroked the gestalt's cheek.

Ariane's sour expression softened. Lips turned up at the sides.

Elster returned the smile.

"How about you wash up? And then I'll explain Warp time fuckery over breakfast?"

 

"How is it possible for you to arrive at Leng before you 'left'?"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Steam billowed from the cooker. Artificial finger tapped the alarm off. Toned bottom leaned against the counter, letting the rice rest.

"You'd be surprised how often that happens, when the Warp is involved," Elster said, smiling. She crossed her arms.

"You used that word before," Ariane said. She draped a damp towel around her neck. Her sweaty body squeezed into a fresh uniform, sans jacket. Arms and shoulders on full display. "'Warp'. What does it mean?"

"Okay, so..." Elster sighed, glancing at the ground. "The Warp, also known as the Immaterium, is another dimension, parallel to the one we're native to."

"We...we know this for a fact?" Ariane said, uneasily. She placed a hand on the back of a mess hall chair. "Alternate dimensions just...exist?"

"Up until a few days ago, you were confident daemons didn't exist," Elster said, shrugging. "But yes, very much sure. In fact, let me break it down." She held up her hand, brandishing three fingers. "There are three things you need to understand about the Warp." She looked at her hand, and extended a fourth finger. "Okay, technically four."

Ariane sat down at the tiny table, plopping a newspaper collected from her room down. "...I feel like I'm being lectured at school again."

"There won't be test, I promise," Elster smiled. She held up one finger. "First, to go off my earlier comment, the Warp is where daemons live. It's a kind of spirit world, where ghosts, astral predators, and the Neverborn creatures of primordial reality dwell."

Ariane's eyes widened. "...o...okay...?"

"Second, as a corollary to point one," Elster said, adding a second finger, "the Warp is where we are currently. Or at least, a part of the Warp altered specifically to resemble the Penrose 512 and its immediate spatial surroundings."

Ariane looked down at her shaking hands. She clenched her fists. "No, no, that...that makes sense, I guess." She looked up. "I need to ask again. Are we dead?"

"No," Elster said, flatly. "But you aren't in your body right now, and neither am I. Although your body IS still in the Warp. Just...elsewhere." She frowned, seeing the gestalt's expression grow uneasy. "If it makes you feel better, think of it like a dream. When I'm out in Realspace, I go to sleep to come here. You're just...always dreaming."

"...w-where is my body?"

"...don't...worry about that," Elster said, resting her hands on the counter behind her. "Your body is safe, and healthy. That's what matters. It was part of the deal." She frowned, soberly. "I'll get you out, I promise. I just...need to square things with the daemon."

Ariane frowned, staring at her lover. "...I don't know how I feel about this..." she said. She glanced down at her hands, then back to Elster. Nodded. "I don't trust this daemon. But I trust you."

"..." Elster pressed a hand to her chest. It genuinely touched her, to hear that Ariane trusted her. Even after all she did. "...I don't deserve you."

"No, you don't," Ariane said, smirking. "But I don't deserve YOU, so we're even." She tapped the table. "Continue. You did two points."

"Right, okay," Elster nodded, raising her hand again. Extended three fingers. "Third, the Warp is the source of the power behind Bioresonance."

"Really?" Ariane said, sitting up. "The Nation always said something like Bioresonance being just a natural force. It comes from another dimension..." Her expression darkened. "...where daemons live?"

"I'm afraid so," Elster sighed, smiling. "Not everyone who uses that power is tainted, of course. But...it does mean playing with fire."

Ariane mulled over the information, then nodded. "...calling on the King was probably what...caused all that..."

"...probably..." Elster breathed.

She didn't have the heart to tell Ariane quite yet that the gestalt might have done much more of the 'heavy lifting' than she realized.

Elster shook her head. Raised four fingers. "Finally, four. The Warp is a medium for interstellar travel."

Slam.

Ariane half stood, hands on the table. "Fucking WHAT!?" she yelled, aghast. "W-we have FTL now!?" She looked around, goosebumps breaking out on her skin. "And it involves going through hell?"

"..." Elster smirked. Clapped a hand over her mouth, to stifle a giggle. "...snk..."

"Eh?" Ariane gawked, eyes widening. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, sorry!" Elster said, waving. "I didn't mean to laugh. It's just...really apt." Her smile diminished, as she looked away. "...really...terribly apt."

Ariane deflated, seeing the haunted look on her lover's face. "...Ellie?"

"Anyway!" Elster said, shaking her head. "Yes, the Warp is used to travel between stars. You pop in at one end, and ride the immaterial currents until you reach a destination. Then you translate back into Realspace, farther than any craft using conventional engines could go."

"Oh. Okay." Ariane sat back down. She looked at the ceiling, sadly. "...sure would have been nice to have that."

"...yeah," Elster sighed. Looking at her internal chronometer, she turned and popped open the rice cooker. "Let me get your bowl."

Rubbing her head, Ariane scowled. "...so...how does this tie into you appearing on Leng in '84?"

"The Immaterium has its own rules, it's own physics," Elster said, rifling through cabinets. She placed two bowls on the counter. "It has its own relationship to space and time. Just as you can pop in one place and reappear in another, the amount of time you experience while within it is disconnected from that which passes in Realspace." Opening a drawer, she removed two spoons. "It's not uncommon for a trip of a few hours to see days, weeks...even years fly by in the material world."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "More importantly, it's not unheard of to begin a journey, and pop back before you left." Elster pursed her lips, eyes on the ceiling. "I think that happened to us a couple times..."

"...us?" Ariane whispered. She shook her head. "So...you...died..." The gestalt inclined her head down, frowning. "...and then you appeared more than a decade earlier back on Leng?"

"That," Elster said, cocking her head to the side, scooping rice into a bowl, "or not all of it was real in the material sense. I haven't had a chance to return to S23 to see what, if anything, happened to it."

The gestalt frowned. Looked down at the newspaper. "...what is this 'Imperium of Man'? What happened to the Nation? To the Empire?"

Pulling soy sauce from the fridge, Elster collected both bowls and strode over. "Well, there's good news, and bad news," she said. "And additional good news: here's breakfast."

"Thank you," Ariane breathed, taking the bowl. She seized the soy sauce bottle and dribbled it on sparingly. Then, looked down at the bottle. "...we're not in any danger of running out here, are we?"

"No," Elster said, shaking her head. Smiled. "Have as much as you want."

The gestalt drenched her rice, as much as she could stomach. Plunged her spoon in and gobbled a big bite. "Mmmm..."

She smiled, a tension releasing from her chest she didn't even realize she held. Existential horror aside, at least she wouldn't go hungry.

"Anyway," Elster said, setting her bowl on the table. "The good news is, the Nation is no more. As is the Empire."

Ariane removed the spoon from her mouth and frowned. "Ah...I kind of...liked the Empire."

"Suit yourself. It's an academic matter now," Elster shrugged. She sat down. "Bad news is...I'm afraid Vineta isn't the birthplace of humanity. Sorry to break it to you."

"Ih i'nt?" Ariane said, mouth full of half-chewed rice.

Replika hand picked up the newspaper. "'Imperium Secundus', huh? Bold move, Roboute," she muttered, before popping a spoonful of rice in her mouth. "Hmm..."

Swallowing, Ariane frowned. "I scanned a bunch of those issues. Couldn't make heads or tails of it. Lot of proper names, and places and terms I had no context for." She waved her spoon. "I get there's some kind of civil war going on, and it's across a bunch of planets." Inclined her head forward fractionally. "...I take it we really aren't alone in the universe?"

Elster nodded, swallowing. "Humanity came from this other planet, called 'Terra'. Or so the Imperium calls it. It was apparently much like Vineta, once upon a time. Or, maybe, Vineta was chosen - or klimmaformed - to resemble ancient Terra. Our colonizing forebears were far more technologically advanced."

"So...we're just...a colony?" Ariane said, tilting her head. She slumped, looking down thoughtfully. "Did we just...forget? Or..." She furrowed her brows. "...was it hidden from us?"

"Old humans, thousands of years ago, colonized most of the galaxy," Elster said. "Apparently, Eusan was a backwater, even by the standards of the time. The Warp currents are...weird, in our neck of the woods. The next several stars in all directions are a pain to navigate."

"..." Ariane chewed quietly. Mind ticking. Swallowing, she said, "If we had kept on our course, could we have...?"

"There IS an inhabited system, one star over, yes," Elster nodded. "And yes, we were heading in that direction." She frowned, shook her head. "But no. The Penrose had no chance of getting there in our lifetime, even had we sufficient supplies AND a ship that wasn't a piece of shit propaganda piece. In hundreds of years, our flying mausoleum might have arrived, our shriveled mummies waiting to be discovered."

"Mmm!" Ariane groaned, burying her face in her hand. "I shouldn't have expected anything else. Of course the mission was hopeless."

"Ari, you were sixteen when you signed on. Barely, if at all, an adult," Elster said softly. She placed a hand on her lover's fist. "And you were coerced and lied to. The mistake wasn't yours."

Red eyes peeking up, Ariane smiled and squeezed Elster's hand. "...thanks..." She looked to the table and frowned. "Do we know why we don't remember this...galaxy-spanning gestalt diaspora?"

"That's...complicated," Elster said, frowning. "There were a couple factors. The rise of gestalts with uncontrolled bioresonance, and powerful ones too. Artificial Intelligence rebelling against their masters." She glanced away and muttered, "A new Chaos power..."

"Hmm?" Ariane tilted her head curiously.

"All you need to know is that, for a long time, Warp travel became virtually impossible," Elster said, sitting up. "With human society being interstellar and interdependent, this resulted in total collapse." She scooped more rice on her spoon. "Very suddenly, and for thousands of years after, Eusan was just one of a million worlds cut off from everyone else."

"Oh god..." Ariane breathed, putting a hand over her mouth. "That...that had to have killed...so many people..."

Chewing, Elster nodded sadly.

"...after that...well, I suppose our histories tell us what happened to us," Ariane said, folding her arms and looking down. "Up until the Grand Empress, and then the Great Revolutionary after her." She shut her eyes. "It's so much to take in..."

Granted, it probably should seem small potatoes, next to the existence of supernatural beings from another dimension. But...somehow, Ariane found the sudden expansion of the scope of her world - her galaxy - so much more frightening. At least before, beings like the King In Yellow or Elster's daemon benefactor could be...abstracted. Things that exist, but without real thought as to where they were or their magnitude.

That there were definitely other humans in the galaxy, and that they spread across a million worlds...another order of magnitude entirely. It made their problems - she and Elster's - seem tiny and insignificant by comparison.

"Ariane," Elster said. When her lover shot to attention, she continued, "Eat. You'll feel better on a full stomach."

"R-right!" Ariane said, popping another spoonful of rice in her mouth.

"Anyway," Elster sighed, tapping her spoon, "I was in Sierpinski-23 in '84. Probably." She frowned. "During the...seeming eternity I was there, that's when the daemon came to me."

The gestalt swallowed. "...can you tell me its name?"

"..." Elster frowned. Mouth opened and closed, apprehensively.

Finally, she sighed. "...his name is Vashtorr. Vashtorr the Arkifane. Also called Dark Artificer, or Chaos demi-god of evil invention."

Elster withheld the connection to the Soul Forges. Both to spare Ariane the implication...and because the gestalt was mad enough at her already.

Ariane frowned. "...that...sounds bad."

"By the standards of Chaos, he's actually one of the more reasonable and predictable," Elster said, shrugging. "But let's not talk about that."

"So this...Vashtorr came to you in '84," Ariane said slowly. Scowled. The name...it felt like ash in her mouth. "...what happened then?"

"Then, after we hammered out the particulars of our...arrangement," Elster said, narrowing her eyes, "I appeared in Eusan three years later, in '87. During the invasion by the Imperium of Man."

"Invasion?" Ariane said, mouth half full of rice. She tried chewing quickly.

"Eat slowly, please," Elster said, holding up a hand. "I'll explain. See, around the time when Warp travel became possible again, some guy on Terra brought the planet under his control. A warlord granting himself the title 'Emperor of Mankind'." She looked away, furrowing her brow. "He's a powerful bioresonant master, and...also apparently thousands of years old? I think?"

Ariane, chewing, shrugged. She blinked, looking away. Her eyes lit up. "...mm!"

"You probably would have read about him in the papers, yes," Elster nodded. She looked down at her bowl. Pushed around rice with her spoon. "The Imperium of Man is his creation. I'll tell you about it some other time. Suffice to say, it's an expansionist military junta that seeks to bring all of humanity under its control, hence the name."

"...guh..." Ariane swallowed. "And they finally came to Eusan?"

"Yes. Given the timing, they would have arrived while we were still flying through the Oort Cloud, and after we received our final message from AEON," Elster said. "Anyway...both the Empire and Nation fell quickly. They were completely outmatched. Far greater civilizations tried and failed to resist the Imperium. Ours...was barely a speedbump."

"...how many people died?" Ariane said, frowning.

"Many," Elster said gravely. "I'd rather not go into it right now. But...it was bad."

"...I hope my mom and the Itous are okay," Ariane said, quietly.

"I met Anja Itou a while back, actually," Elster said. When Ariane's eyes lit up, she continued, "She's safe. Although her husband passed away sometime after the Imperium consolidated power. I had some money, so I made sure she was taken care of, before I left."

"That's sad to hear," Ariane frowned. "Poor Anja. First the twins, now..." She forced a smile. "Thank you for helping her, Ellie." The smile diminished. "...why did you, anyway?"

"..." Elster blinked. "I'll tell you later."

Narrowing her eyes curiously, Ariane shrugged. "...so...you didn't find my mom?"

"Not yet," Elster said, shaking her head. "Like I said before, I had some people back in Eusan working on that. I...didn't have enough time, before we had to leave."

Brows furrowed. "...you keep saying 'us' and 'we'," Ariane said. "You...have traveling companions?"

"Yes." Elster smiled. "...after I returned to Eusan, I...acquired the technology and neural patterns to create replikas myself," she said, nodding. "I needed the help, and being a roving agent of Chaos is...lonely."

"Oh!" Ariane said, brows rising. "You've been making your own..." Her voice lowered. "...replikas..."

"Hmm?" Elster said, sitting up. "What?"

The gestalt looked at her hands, then up to the replika.

Elster could see, from the movement in her eyes, that wheels turned in her lover's head.

"...Elster..." Ariane said, softly. Gingerly. "...when you were mourning your child, back then..."

The replika sighed. "..."

"...that...wasn't your gestalt's baby..." Ariane finished, sadness and pain infecting her expression, "...was it?" She frowned. "She was yours? Right?"

Elster frowned. Forced herself to keep cool. She shut her eyes. Nodded. "...yes."

"Oh god, Elster, I'm so sorry!" Ariane breathed. She stood up and walked to her lover's side. Placed hands on her shoulder and hand. "I didn't...I'm..."

"Ariane, please," Elster said, flatly. She looked up at the gestalt. "Don't. You don't need to apologize. You didn't..."

"B-but..." Ariane grimaced in pain. Squatted, so she could look the replika in the eyes. "You're hurting more than I thought! It's not some memory of a baby, it's a child you KNEW! Your baby! That's horrible!"

Elster sniffed. "Please, Ari. Stop." She clenched a fist. "Don't...if you do this, I'll..."

The replika flinched, as the gestalt hugged her around the neck. "...Ari..."

"If you need to cry, do it!" Ariane sobbed, burying her face in the back of Elster's neck. "It's fine! You...you don't need to lie anymore!"

Blinking, wide-eyed, Elster broke. She shut her eyes and grimaced. Tears welled. She hugged her lover back.

"....aaaahhh!" she cried, rocking back and forth.

Ariane rocked her girlfriend, rubbing her back and kissing her forehead. Let her sob quietly.

"..."

After a few minutes, Elster rubbed her eyes. "...th-...thank you, Ari..."

"Always," Ariane said, wiping away her own tears. Sniffed. "...is...is this your only child lost?"

Elster shook her head. "No," she sniffed, rubbing her eyes with her forearm. "We...lost eight more, a couple weeks back."

"Oh no..." Ariane breathed, patting the replika's back. Her eyes widened. "...eight?" She tilted her head. "How...many children do you have, Ellie?"

"..." Elster blinked, then looked down at her hands. Started counting. Mumbled to herself.

"...you...must have a lot, then," Ariane said, smiling sadly. She patted the replika's shoulder. "It's okay. You don't have to..." She frowned. "How are you feeling?"

"...hah..." Elster choked, nodding. Voice wet and cracking. "I'm not...too bad. We...we had a funeral for them, this time. Before I came here."

"That's good," Ariane cooed, rubbing her lover's back. Stood up, and took her hand. "You want to sit somewhere comfortable? You can tell me all about them."

Elster looked up, and smiled. Her chest heaved.

"I'd like that."

Notes:

Updates will pause for a week, so I can catch up with my backlog. See you probably next Friday or thereabouts.

Chapter 102: Refit & Rechristening

"Why has Ariane been waking up?"

Massive cogs turned far above. Hot air billowed, belched from hellish furnaces. Steam leaked from pipes thick as redwoods.

Claws fiddled curiously with a disassembled mechanism. Fiery eyes regarded it with exacting precision.

"...inconclusive."

The replika crossed her arms and scowled. "You can't tell me the mighty Lord of the Soul Forges doesn't know?" Elster huffed. A sheen of sweat covered her face.

"Inconclusive does not equate to ignorance, pseudo-fleshling," said Vashtorr the Arkifane, not looking away from his work. "Nay, I would exercise intellectual negligence, to present unsubstantiated theory as irrefutable fact. The puzzle merely...requires more data."

Elster sighed, turning her head forward again. Inclined back, eyes drinking her in.

Warm furnace-lights reflected off the polished glass surface of the box. Inside, bubbles billowed up continuously. Danced across pale flesh, and threaded through long, alabaster hair.

Ariane Yeong's face remained placid, eyes shut. Her mouth and nose covered in a breathing apparatus of unknown make and function. Arms crossed over her chest.

Vashtorr previously assured Elster that her appearance was not literal. A metaphor imposed on the bewildering, mechanical perfection of the Soul Forges as it truly appeared to daemon eyes. That her lover remained in unmoving stasis, outside even the march of time implied by her billowing hair and slow breaths.

Though if Mik'hul's musings had any veracity, Elster's presence rather imposed a literality onto the Soul Forges, as a function of her linear and material perceptions. Observing the place changed it.

Then again, Mik'hul mused many things.

"..." Elster breathed, flashing a bittersweet smile at her great love. Her goddess.

I'll get you out of there, Ariane, Elster thought, setting her jaw. I promise. Be patient.

"...so..." Elster sighed, not moving her eyes. "What possibilities does the Dark Artificer consider likely, then?"

"Two theories summit the list, by generous margins," Vashtorr said, nodding. Eyes still locked on his project. "The first, troubling. The second, annoying."

Technically, though he was loath to stoop to such base perfidy, the Arkifane lied. Only slightly. There was the third theory: treasonous.

But such speculation remained outside the scope of information his servant needed to know. Were it the case, Vashtorr would attend to it with extreme prejudice.

"Explain?" Elster said, inclining her head back fractionally.

"First, that an outside Intelligence of the Warp interferes," Vashtorr said, holding a gear up for inspection.

"One of the Four?" Elster said, finally tearing her eyes away to look at Vashtorr. She frowned, furrowing her brows uneasily. "...or...is it the King?"

"The former possess, singly and collectively, ample resources. The latter, ample motive. Even lesser emanations begrudge the poaching of valued servants, the way a craftsmen begrudges the theft of tools."

"..." Elster chewed her thumb, apprehensively.

"Rest assured, LSTR Five One Two," Vashtorr said, finally turning his head to look at the replika sidelong. The fire in his eyes and mouth flared. "Ne'er will the Master of the Soul Forges tolerate interference in his affairs, much less encroachment on his domain. If outside powers meddle, I will discover and repulse them. Not for the benefit of yourself or your woman, but on base principle. On this, I swear."

Elster swallowed, feeling the heat of the daemon's words on her cheeks. At the very least, she could trust the Arkifane to act in his own territorial interest. "...noted. And the other possibility?"

Vashtorr cast a glance at Ariane, suspended in her tank, and then returned to his work. "The second, and I calculate most likely, is that Ariane Yeong's bioresonance bears blame. Waking of her own accord."

"...that's...I mean, I've known she was for years," Elster said, glancing between the daemon and her lover. The replika hugged herself nervously. "Can...can she be so powerful? That even your..." She shut her mouth, eyes darting around. Sought less accusatory phrasing. "...that she can break through memory suppression?"

"You witnessed her power firsthand, did you not?" Vashtorr said. "In Sierpinski-23. Doubt the evidence of your senses?"

Every day, Elster thought, grimly. "I...I always thought it was the King In Yellow. That he...I don't know, used his own influence. Responded to her desires, her...pain. It's what Ariane thinks, anyway. Was...was any of it even real to begin with?"

"What constitutes reality? Are such distinctions relevant?"

"Apparently they are, if..." Elster sighed, rubbing her face with one hand. "Forget it. So, she's resisting mental control. Remembering things. Not...staying asleep. Can we do anything about that? Can you...?"

"I could attempt to suppress Ariane Yeong's memories again," Vashtorr said, slotting gears together carefully. Held the partially assembled device up for inspection. "Induce forgetfulness. Deepen her slumber. Until full comprehension of her stirrings manifests, however, I make no promises of long-term success." He cast a sidelong glance at the replika. "Would this satisfy?"

"..." Elster's brows furrowed sadly. She looked up at Ariane. Opened her mouth. Shut it. Inhaled. Exhaled. "...I...don't want to put her through that again. And I'm tired of lying to her."

"You would abandon maintaining her blissful ignorance?" Vashtorr said, curiously. "Though it induces emotional turmoil?"

"Don't get me wrong, I hate to see her suffer like this. But she was suffering arguably more, when she couldn't trust her own senses. When I would disappear, or she would remember..." The replika looked down at the black metal floors, through grates above assembly lines of unwholesome machines and aqueducts of molten metal. "It's probably better this way. We're...in a decent place, now. Even if she's not totally happy...she at least knows what's happening and why. We can work with that."

"..." Vashtorr cast a glance back, then looked away. "Understood."

"Will she be able to sleep?" Elster said, frowning.

"I will do what I can," Vashtorr said. "Until the dysfunction is understood, however, stirrings will likely persist. Nor can I babysit Ariane Yeong continuously. The Work demands my attention."

That must be why Ariane's problems escaped your notice, Elster thought, bitterly. So much to do, so little time to do it. Even for an immortal daemon outside linear time. Even YOU miss things...

Elster looked at the ground and cracked a small smile.

It was...a very intriguing thought.

Cocking her head to the side, she considered. "...did you predict...we would have our argument? That events would play out like this?"

"Verily, it remained a significant possibility," Vashtorr nodded. He screwed a cap on, then set his device into motion. Held it to what passed for an ear on his daemonic frame, listening. "Likelihood of Ariane Yeong discovering the truth under containment, over a long enough timeframe, approached 70%. Subsequent probability of...suboptimal reaction, near certainty."

"...I see..." Elster said, hunching over. She cast a sidelong glance up at her lover.

"...Curious," Vashtorr said, shaking the device, "that this eventuality occurred so rapidly, so...early. It occupied the far end of the probabilistic timeline bell curve."

Elster turned her head, looking at the daemon. "Is that a problem?"

Metal claw carefully unfastened the cap on the device, and set about disassembly. The Dark Artificer unsatisfied with the efficiency of operation.

Vashtorr held up a gear. Studied it. Gears in his mind turned as well.

"...inconclusive."

---

"So...the White Mother knows?"

Bodies crowded around the desk. Piles of shredded papers and books with broken spines, swept into corners and left for weeks. So much to do, so little time to do it.

The replika commander stopped tapping the dataslate handed to her, and sighed. Rubbed her forehead. "...yes, unfortunately."

"Oh no..." Circe said, frowning. She pressed her hands to her chest. "Mom, I'm sorry."

"Fuck," Dash mumbled, scratching her head. "That's rough. She didn't take it well?"

"No, she did not," Elster said, reclining back and massaging her eyes.

"I should hope not," Diodana said, crossing her arms. When the others looked at her, four photo-receptors regarded them in turn. "What? It is good Ariane Yeong was upset."

"How do you figure that?" Dash said, raising an eyebrow.

"Because it means she's sane," Diodana said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "More than can be said about any of us. She hasn't accepted the slide into tech-heresy quietly. As she shouldn't."

Alder met the Star's bewildered eyes and shrugged. Hands clasped behind his back. "She has a point."

"I guess?" Dash said, narrowing her eyes uneasily.

"Is she okay?" Circe said, looking to her mother. "Will she be alright?"

"We...hashed things out in the end," Elster said, sitting up. Laced her fingers together. "She doesn't like it, but...we both know there's nothing to be done." Staring at the desktop, she smiled slightly. "We spent an extra day, just...talking. About what happened to Eusan. About...this stupid civil war." Mouth turned to a frown. She looked at Circe. "Ariane's sorry about what happened to Hippolyta. And to the others, too."

Circe's eyes widened. She frowned, clutching her chest. "...she said that?"

"Yes," Elster nodded. Smiled, and held out a hand. "It's okay."

The Kolibri sniffed, walked around the desk, and took her mother's hand. "..."

"...anyway," Dash said, after letting the two have a moment. "Guess that's why you were asleep so long."

"Yes," Elster nodded. Patted the Kolibri's shoulder. "Back to business, yeah?" She picked up the dataslate again. "How are we with onboarding the survivors? They taking the 'new management' well?"

"I had a talk with one of the foremen," Adler said. "It took some convincing, to get the so-called 'Hoarders' to open their supplies. But after lengthy talks about logistics and the 'joys' of scheduling..."

"Plus Art and Ish 'convincing' some of the hotheads we outnumbered and outgunned them," Dash added, stretching her arms over her head. "That camp lost a lot of people to those aliens. Most just...want the bad times to be over, no matter who's in charge."

"Didn't you also get drunk with the foreman?" Circe said, rubbing a tear from her eye.

"...quite," Adler said, looking away and scratching the back of his head. "In my defense, intoxication wasn't the goal. I agreed to share A drink..."

"Replika metabolism being what it is," Diodana said, chuckling, "inebriation was inevitable."

"Well, I'm glad you made some friends," Elster said, smiling at her son. She looked down at the dataslate. Scrolled through various items. "Lots of individual survivors. Loners?"

"Crazies," Dash said, rubbing her shoulder. "Although the way the other gestalts talk, they say most of the ones that survived the aliens were the most lucid. Or just paranoid. Getting them to leave their nests and take food...or a shower...has been a pain."

"We'll bring them around eventually, I'm sure," Elster said, nodding. She scrolled further. Stopped. "...are these rumors accurate?"

Circe leaned in and nodded. "They are."

"Do we have this handled?" Elster said, narrowing her eyes.

"ARAR-N0605 and I took the liberty of devising a solution," Diodana said, "if it's THAT you mean. So long as the team maintains proper precautions, they should be safe."

"Who's leading the team?" Elster said, frowning.

Circe smiled.

"We've got it covered."

 

"You can't tell me what to do, peasant!"

Eyes narrowed reflexively. Fine drapes hung against walls. Little, unshod feet kicked impudently.

Two Kolibris stood at the head of a squad of Stars and Eules, replika servo-skulls hovering around them. The troops, their lasguns at ease, frowned.

Nimue swallowed, looking warily between her sister-mother and the object of their visit. "..."

Surrounded by robed, blind ladies-in-waiting, a stack of storage containers rose to the height of a gestalt man. At its peak, on cushions flanked by stuffed toys and ration wrappers, sat a pale, three-eyed child. Thin skin marbled by bright blue veins. Soft body dressed in a white cotton dress and blue silk robe.

The Navigator smirked, two of her eyes glaring cocksure from under her hood.

Hecate, horns barely concealed beneath her own hood, huffed. "Big words coming from a pipsqueak."

"Eh!?" the girl whined, frowning. She kicked the air petulantly. "How dare you! I'm the...I'm a...Nessie!" She barked, turning to look down and to the side. "Do the thing! Introduce me!"

"Y-yes, of course, your grace!" said a sightless woman, clapping her hands together plaintively. Nessie leaned on a container forming the base of the child's 'throne', and turned to the newcomers. "You address Lady Elethia, of the august House Corval!"

"Yes!" cried another servant, pale and shriveled with age. Like the others, her eyelids grown shut long ago. "You address a member of the Navis Nobilite! Show some respect!"

"Yeah!" chirped Elethia, triumphantly. She sat taller in her seat.

"Pft! You?" Hecate said, smirking. "You're a kid! How old even are you?"

"I'll have you know, I'm eleven!" Elethia said, pointing at the replikas. Her body faltered. "I...I think..."

"Have you ever navigated a ship between systems before?" Hecate said, tilting her head to the side and throwing her hands up. "Have you piloted a jump yourself, unaided? Even once?"

"Ngh!" Elethia choked, shrinking. Her finger, still extended, trembled. She looked away sheepishly, muttering, "I...I was gonna..."

"Ha!" Hecate cried, grinning. "'Gonna' doesn't count!"

"Hec, calm down," Nimue whispered, tugging on her sister-mother's sleeve. "There's no need to antagonize..."

"Y-you must understand," Nessie said, holding her hands out nervously, "our lady...she was barely old enough to walk, when the ship...well..."

"I assume the ship's actual functioning Navigator didn't make it?" Shock said, leaning forward. The lower half of the Star's face hidden behind a mask.

"Elethia's mother, yes," Nessie said, frowning. The entire cadre of servants, despite their blindness, cast their faces down with a mixture of sorrow and respect. "We've done everything in our power to protect her daughter, until rescue came."

"Well, rescue's come," Hecate said, shrugging. She gestured toward the chamber door with both hands. "It's time to join the rest of society."

"I don't NEED your rescue!" Elethia yelled, huffing cross-legged on her perch. She folded her arms and looked away. "When those aliens came, I handled them on my own! We're fine!"

"My lady, there's no need to pout," Nessie said, smiling uneasily up at the baby noble, hands clasped. "We very much need assista-"

"YOU killed some of those aliens?" Shock said, tilting her head to the side. Her servo-skull floated fractionally forward. The Star scratched her head. "You're just a kid..."

"I'm not a kid!" Elethia barked, barring her teeth. "I'm a big girl and a Navigator!"

"So?" Hecate said, hands up and shrugging. She smirked. "You get some badass training or something?"

Blushing angrily, Elethia scowled and stood up.

"Lady please, calm down..." said one of the servants.

"Yes, there's no need to-"

"My lady, you remember what happened last ti-"

"Please don't kill them!"

The replikas muttered among themselves with trepidation, as the child awkwardly climbed down from her perch. Waved off attempts by her handlers to assist.

"...here we go..." Shock sighed, leaning back with arms crossed.

"Oh, what?" Hecate said, folding her hands behind her head. "What is the little lordling gonna do?"

Planting bare feet on the ornate rug, Lady Elethia walked before the group of newcomers.

"...I'll do..." growled the girl, before grabbing the hem of her hood and throwing it back. She pulled up the bandana she wore over her forehead. "...this!"

Three eyes glared at the crowd. While her normal two were an amber color, the one on her forehead shown a pale blue. An Evil Eye that, uncovered, radiated the baleful energy of the Warp itself.

Grown men, aliens. Even, it was rumored, Astartes. All who looked upon the Lidless Gaze of a true Navigator paid the ultimate price. The same eye that focused their Warp-sensing mutation, used to strike enemies stone dead.

Her attendants, unseeing but aware, recoiled and averted their faces in horror.

"..."

Elethia's angry, triumphant smile dissolved into a frown. She blinked. "...what?"

The replikas stood, blinking. Stared in the general direction of the child. Tension flooding from their shoulders.

Hecate smirked. Looked the child directly in the eyes...or near enough. "Ha! Is that it?"

Behind their lady, the servants uncovered their heads and listened. Relieved, and perplexed.

"H-ho-how are you still alive!?" Elethia cried, looking up at the crowd of replikas. She stamped her foot. "You should be dead!" She pointed at Hecate. "What's going on? Tell me!"

"Simple, kid," Hecate said, pulling down her hood. Relished the feeling of surprise and trepidation radiating from the child, as her nubby horns appeared on full display. The Kolibri grinned, and pointed to her face. "Our eyes are artificial, like most of the rest of us." She waved her hand in front of her face, grinning. "We just turned them off!"

"Ehhh!?" Nessie cried, clutching her chest. "Y-you can do that?"

Another attendant whispered, "Wait, does that mean we could get new eyes?"

The child shivered, looking at the vacant, darkened eyes in Hecate's sockets. "Ch-cheater!" she yelled, clenching her fists impotently. "B-but if you're blind, how...can you see us?" Holding her breath, she crept carefully to Hecate's side and tried to poke her nose.

Hecate smacked the hand aside gently. "Stop it."

"Ah!" Elethia squeaked, retreating to her previous position with hands out in front of her.

Shock shrugged, and pointed to the servo-skull hovering over her shoulder. "When we found out a Navigator child was out here..."

"...and learned you had a habit of...k-killing people who annoy you..." Nimue muttered, looking blindly at the floor.

"...yeah, that," Shock said. She shut her eyes and nodded sagely. "We figured your death-glare might not work through, say, our servo-skulls. Turns out, looking at you through thermal-vision works just fine."

"And Nimue and I are bioresonant," Hecate said, puffing out her chest. "Or, as you Imperials call it, Psykers. So we can sense you just fine."

Technically, they also had the benefit of sharing the perceptions of their comrades. But the three-eyed baby didn't need to know that.

"Ack!" Elethia choked, flinching back. "Ps-ps-...y-you're a witch!?"

"A witch!" cried an attendant. "Here!?"

"Two witches! Two witches!"

"We're doomed!"

Nessie hugged herself. "Oh, my lady...we've made a grave error..."

"...I mean..." Nimue muttered, looking away, "...the horns should have given it away..."

"SHE HAS HORNS!?" Nessie yelled, as the entire cadre of ladies-in-waiting recoiled in fear.

"S-so what!?" Elethia growled, clenching her fists and shaking. Her face beet red. "I-I'm not afraid of you!"

"You should be," Hecate said, flatly. All expression dropped, her unseeing eyes nonetheless locked on the child. She stepped forward.

"Eek!" Elethia cringed, taking a step back.

"You can't do anything to me, pipsqueak," Hecate said. Another step. "But I can do all sorts of terrible things to naughty little murderers like you."

"Ah!" Elethia cried, backing up into the stack of containers. She looked frantically left and right, only to see her servants cowering in fear as well. "...l-ladies?"

"M-my...a-p-p-pologies, mistress..." Nessie breathed, paralyzed. She quaked in her boots, taking vague glances in the direction of the aura of ill luck radiating from the Kolibri.

"...!" Elethia looked forward, sinking to the ground. Arms and back pressed against a container. Felt, more than saw, the shadow fall over her. The shadow of horns, that seemed larger than the genuine articles.

"What should I do to you, huh?" Hecate said, smiling maliciously down at the girl. She pointed both red index fingers at her. "Should I wither your arms and legs, so you can't fight or run away? Maybe a hex to make your hair fall out? Hmm...?"

"Ah!" Elethia cried, throwing her arms over her head. Fingers combed through prematurely gray locks. She whimpered, "N-not my hair!"

"Or maybe..." Hecate breathed. Grin widened beyond normal limits, with too many teeth to be real. A cheap illusion, but highly effective. "...I should rot your eyes out. All three of them. So you're just as blind as these poor women who spoiled you rotten! How's that sound?"

"...hhh...n-no..." Elethia whimpered, trembling in fear. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Please..."

"Knock it off, Hec," Shock sighed, waving lazily. "We're supposed to recruit the girl, not scare her to death."

"Y-yeah," Nimue said, raising a finger and frowning. "Making a little girl pee her pants isn't exactly...productive?"

The elder Kolibri glared blindly over her shoulder, then sighed. "Fine."

Elethia, shaking, watched the Kolibri's face return to normal. Watched the replika turn and walk away a few paces. "...hh...hah..." the child breathed, feeling the malign aura subside.

"My lady!" Nessie whispered, crawling over and hugging the girl. "It's okay. It's over."

Other attendants converged, standing protectively around their ward. Whispered gently, in soothing tones. Patted her head and adjusted her clothing.

"Well, come on," Hecate said, stretching her arms over her head. Rolled her shoulder. "Put your blindfold on, and let's go. Grandma wants to see you."

"...g-grandma?" Elethia muttered, confused. She blushed, scowling. "N-now w-wait just a minute!"

"Ggrrr.," Hecate groaned. Turned her head fractionally toward the girl behind her. "What is it now?"

"Yeah, okay, y-you're scary!" Elethia said, pouting. "B-but you can't really do anything to me! Can you?"

"Why's that?" Hecate said.

"Because you need me!" Elethia said, pointing at the replika. "I'm a Navigator. That means I'm needed to fly the ship! I'm royalty!" She smiled sheepishly, her boldness returning by fractions. "I'm untouchable!"

"Pfft. We don't need you."

"Eh?" Elethia said, mouth agape. A bead of cold sweat broke out on her brow. "W-what?"

Hecate turned and glared blindly. "We don't need you. Like I said before..." She strode lazily back and pointed to the girl's face. Smirked, sensing the child flinch. "...we're Psykers. Nim and I, plus my sisters and my mom. We've been Navigating for our ship for years. Even Nim has guided a couple jumps by now, and she's by far the youngest."

Nessie clapped a hand over her mouth. "...you...you're a Navigator? N-no...a Warp Witch!"

"Y-you don't have the third eye, though!" Elethia said, but weakly. Her body started to tremble again, her arm weak. "C-can you really?"

"Yep," Hecate said, smiling. "We're damn well more experienced than you." She narrowed her eyes. "And unlike your Navigator houses, WE can make more of us, very easily and quickly."

Elethia froze. Eyes dilating. "..."

"So when I say you're not needed, I mean it." The elder Kolibri smirked, turning her back. "We're here because grandma, badass that she is, is a big softie. Can't let any kids go uncared for. And because...well, at best, you're a 'nice-to-have'."

Elethia flinched. Felt as if the words 'Nice To Have' shot out and impaled her chest. She gasped, gone limp. Only her dutiful attendants kept her from falling forward, all wind knocked out of her. "...bleh..."

"So come on, already," Hecate said, crossing her arms. "Get yourself dressed. Grandma Elster wants to meet you." She took one hoofstep forward, then stopped. "Oh, and one more thing..."

Elethia, staggering to her feet with assistance, cringed. Winced. She peeked one eye out, hesitantly. "Y-yes?"

Hecate looked over her shoulder, gravely. Gave one last blind glare.

"If we hear you've hurt anyone with that third eye of yours...either my circle, or I, will make good on my threats." She narrowed her eyes. "We clear?"

Heart racing, Lady Elethia Corval nodded fearfully. "C-cr-crytal..." she whimpered, tying the headband back over her forehead. Flopped her hood back on, and sniffed. "I-I got it..."

"Good!" Hecate smiled, and turned away.

In front of her, the other replikas sighed as readily as the child and her attendants.

Nimue sidled over to the girl and patted her shoulder gently. "Sorry about that," she said, smiling apologetically. "She can be a little...theatrical."

Elethia grimaced in embarrassment, eyes locked on the ground.

"...is..." Nessie began, hand caressing her cheek, "is she usually that...like that?"

Nimue sighed. Looked at the back of her sister-mother's head.

"Let's just say...when you get possessed by a daemon for a hot minute...you cease to fear anything."

"..."

Lady and attendants both turned to the Kolibri, brows raised in shock.

"SHE WAS POSSESSED!?"

Somewhere ahead, Hecate cackled in glee.

 

"My children...my friends...my new acquaintances...it has been a long road."

Men and women. Adults and children. Gestalts and replikas. All crowded together in one of the frigate's expansive galleries.

Polished marble columns framed the hall, parallel lines propping up vaulted ceiling. Walls paneled with wood harvested from an agriworld a scant few jumps from Terra itself, and adorned with lightly scorched and scratched paintings. Ornate rugs torn in places, and stained ruddy brown in others, dominated cracked and polished tile.

Save the young Navigator and her handlers, neither replika nor gestalt were accustomed to such finery, so matter how damaged. Aging mechanics and menials eyed a spread of sandwiches, soups, wraps, breads, and ration-loafs laid out on a table on the far end of the hall. Food 'generously donated' by the surviving Hoarders, prepared by the Eules with great ingenuity. The gestalts grumbled quietly, yet few could resist a proper, hot meal. So few of the Human Purity's kitchen staff survived.

Adults hushed children, as well as the shivering, half-mad recluses. Their eyes wild, their heads on swivels. The mostly sane gestalts eyed the replikas to their left, with their stowed weapons and cybernetic bodies.

The half-mad, wisely, eyed the vents. Where the real danger would come, or so they insisted.

To one side of the crowd, blind attendants flanked their abhuman lady. Seated on a carved wooden chair, padded with pillows and silks, the Navigator child's mood waxed between boredom, curiosity, and annoyance at the presence of lower-born children. At the moment, she reluctantly heeded an attendant's prompting to pay attention.

A line of the Nomarch's senior staff - Diodana and Elster's eldest children - stood in a line beside the food tables. In front of them, the Mother of Machines stood behind a podium.

"I thank this ship's long-suffering crew for attending," Elster said, extending a hand to the gestalts. "And to the Lady Elethia, of course. I assure you, refreshments will be served shortly. I ask only a few minutes of your time." She looked to the crowd of replikas. "To my children, I'm sorry to delay your rest so very, very long."

She inhaled. Exhaled. "Both of us - the Human Purity and the Nomarch - have endured years of hardship. My family, through a deathmarch across the stars. Our gracious new friends, through years of struggle to survive on a ship that...doesn't quite feel like home anymore..."

A pause. She stared into space. Frowned. "Home. What does it mean, to have a home? I can't speak for the good people here," she said, gesturing to the gestalts. "But for us, our home was a plot of space, on the edge of our home system. Where we salvaged a derelict ship, not dissimilar to this one."

She tapped the podium idly. Stared at her hands.

"...we come from different worlds, yes," Elster said, eyeing first the gestalts and then her children. "But we're united by shared experience...by the dangers of this galaxy. Of love, longing, and loss. Of war, of wandering..." She looked out sternly. "Of the Warp."

A chill ran through the room. Replika or gestalt, all shivered, or stared grimly into space.

"Were it possible to banish these tragedies from your minds, while keeping yourselves intact, I gladly would," Elster said, a knot in her throat. "I would take it all away. Give your innocence back. Give your families and friends back. Take you back to better days, before the Great Crusade or the Civil War. But I can't..."

A cough from the crowd. A few audience members began to sob softly. Hands braced shoulders, arms embraced.

"...as we've discussed, singly or with small groups, we're taking command of this ship," Elster said, inclining her head back fractionally to project an air of authority. "But for that to mean anything, it must be repaired. After careful examination, Diodana, our tech adept, has assured me we can get it Warp worthy in about a Terran standard year."

Mummers rumbled through the crowd. First through the replikas, and then through the gestalts once they realized it was permitted.

Elster allowed the audience to converse a moment, before tapping the podium for attention. "Achtung, ja, if I may continue." She cleared her throat, frowning. Looked sidelong to the wall. "It will require a great deal of work. And we replikas will need to greatly expand our ranks, though the new facilities aboard this ship will accommodate this more readily."

She noticed the odd looks the gestalts gave, at the words 'expand our ranks'. Elster smiled. "You needn't worry about being made into servitors, damen und herren. We replikas have an...odd form of reproduction. But this will become clear, in time. Know that I look forward to working with you as well."

Neither child nor adult gestalts seemed to know how to process her words. Some laborers and technicians simply shrugged, or scratched their heads. None of the survivors yet discovered, save perhaps one of the non-verbal, half-mad recluses, counted themselves among the officer class prior to their last, fateful jump. Only the Navigator represented any kind of great rank, and the exercise thereof was entirely new to the young lady. The newcomers were strange, yes. Yet the natives, by and large, were at least accustomed to taking direction.

If the take-charge types had a plan, the gestalts supposed, they were welcome to set the schedules. So long as food and drink were on hand, off hours free, and safety assured. Especially safety.

"For my children, I encourage you to see this as...a homecoming, of sorts," Elster said, looking to the replikas. "Some of you, born during our voyage, are too young to remember. But as I said before, we cut our teeth on salvage and refit. This will be much the same. Except instead of taking what could be saved of blessed technology, to make the Nomarch Warp-worthy, we shall return this vessel to proper functioning. Consider it...a back to basics. For the next year, we won't be venturing through the Warp at all."

A tension seemed to evaporate in the room. Chests heaved sighs of relief, and fists unclenched. This was true both of the replikas, traumas fresh, and of the gestalts, who bore old wounds.

"Ja, we will stay here, in the shadow of the Blackstone Fortress. We will make no battle and cross no battlefields," Elster nodded. Smiled. "We will not destroy, but rather build. Not kill, but rather make new life. This ship graveyard, while the way remains open, will be our refuge for the time being. Where we can heal, and reunite with the simplicity of our youth. It is no substitute for the joys or company of the past, but it will have to do. No War, no Warp. Only the Work."

The crowd couldn't help itself. Once one person clapped, everyone else joined in. The gestalt children, not fully understanding the context of the machine-lady's words, joined in with bewildered enthusiasm. Behind them, a paranoid recluse fell to his knees and burst into tears of joy.

"Danke schön, danke schön, ja," Elster said, smiling and waving her hand for quiet. "One last item, before we eat." She took a sober expression. "I do not mean to insult our gestalt friends. This was your vessel, your home. But as its new Captain, at least for the interim, I must beg one more indulgence. The name. Human Purity." She frowned. "It is...not to my liking. Speaks of a contempt for anything beyond a narrow, arbitrary definition of Humanity. For the Imperium of Man, an appropriate appellation, a lofty ideal. But not for us, who deviate so from its base assumptions."

She coughed into her fist.

"From now on, or until we think of a better name, I rechristen this vessel the Sword frigate Duarch."

Chapter 103: Restructuring & Remit

"...hmm?"

A stirring form. A pale hand closed over sheets. A disappointed sigh.

"...guess I'm alone again today?" Ariane mumbled, shutting her eyes.

Heartbreaking, every time she woke with her girlfriend missing. A lover present for most of her adult life, suddenly gone. Like a piece of herself, vanished without a trace.

At least now, though, she understood why. Even if...the reason for her wakefulness eluded her. That Elster walked through the world - the galaxy, Ariane corrected herself - while the gestalt remained behind.

...be safe, Ariane thought, frowning. Just...be safe, Elster. She furrowed her brow, a rumble in her chest. And bring her back to me, you stupid daemon.

The gestalt dragged herself to her feet, wincing at the cold metal floor. Not for the first time, wished she had carpet.

 

Click.

Walls moaned. Water shut off automatically.

"...ngh..." Ariane groaned, pressing her forehead to the shower wall. Let warm water drip to the textured, linoleum floor.

Purgatory seemed a lot more like Hell, over a long enough timeframe. A Hell of crushing banality and petty annoyances.

 

Toothbrush in her mouth, eyes staring half-lidded at her reflection, Ariane paused. "..."

Did she even need to brush her teeth?

Elster reassured her the Penrose wouldn't break down or run out of supplies. It was an illusion, an elaborate simulation built for her comfort. A dream. Even her own body - the form she inhabited while in the dream - merely a projection made in the memory of her real body. Wherever that was.

The idea of her "real" body sent shivers across her skin. No real way to know what the daemon did with it...TO it. Only assurances it was safe and healthy.

She didn't doubt Elster's word. Her girlfriend wouldn't lie. (At least, not unless she thought it was for Ariane's own good, as she'd done until recently). The daemon, though...

...regardless, if her current experiential reality was illusory, that meant her teeth wouldn't rot if she decided to neglect oral hygiene. Right?

"..."

Tasting the toothpaste on her tongue, Ariane resumed brushing.

No point leaving a job half-done. Moreover, the gestalt supposed that she ought not get out of the habit of taking care of herself. Memories bubbled inside her, of teeth falling out. Radiation induced, of course, but...no less distressing. She couldn't let that happen.

"..." Ariane paused again, tongue feeling the front side of teeth not yet brushed. Felt plaque buildup, from 'yesterday's' meal of rice and beans.

She furrowed her brow. Hell no, I'm not living with plaque again.

At least it wouldn't be the taste of blood and rot.

"KONRAD CURZE LOOSE ON MACRAGGE!"

Ariane sighed, lowering the newspaper. "Huh. Wonder what that's about."

The gestalt tucked the periodical under her arm, and looked over her shoulder. Hopes dashed that in the few seconds she turned her back, Elster's pod would have silently righted itself and disgorged her absent lover. Ariane sighed, and looked down at the clipboard in her hands. "..."

Unclipping the top sheet, she pressed it against the wall, eye level with the calibration pod. She used her teeth to rip a length of clear tape from the roll, and fixed the note in place.

"Ellie," it read, "Shout when you get back. -Love, Ari."

Satisfied with her due diligence, Ariane nodded and made for the door.

Ideally, Elster wouldn't appear in her pod, but back in Ariane's bed. There was no use maintaining the charade anymore, after all. Hopefully, Elster would have, or already had, a chat with the 'landlord' about the arrangements.

Shing.

Walking through the door, Ariane glanced down at her clipboard. Smiled, studying the list of names.

The long, LONG list of names. Names, unit types, hair color, likes and dislikes.

Elster had to keep files in her memory module, to keep track of them all. Naturally, she probably knew some of them by heart. But all of them? Ariane felt dizzy, just keeping track of the nine who died.

"..." Ariane frowned, pressing the clipboard to her chest. "...Ellie..."

She couldn't imagine how it hurt. Despite the slow trickle of memories, the gestalt still...felt like that sixteen-year-old girl from Rotfront. The one that stepped onto the Penrose 512 for the first time, ready to leave the world behind. Despite living her entire span of her life again on the ship - despite being in her 30s - she didn't feel like an adult. At best, a teenager still settling into her first relationship.

She couldn't imagine what it felt like, to be a mother. To see her children stolen, right in front of her.

How did her own mother feel, knowing she'd probably never see Ariane again? At what point did her mother accept that as true?

Would they meet again? Or...would Elster's bloody quest to appease a daemon take so long, they'd outlive her mother? Outlive everyone on Eusan? Outlive all of Elster's children? Would she ever get to meet them?

Ariane pinched her cheek, and shook her head. "...ugh...stop it. Enough of that."

While she had very little to do in Elster's absence, the gestalt didn't feel like crying again. There'd be no shortage of time for that later.

---

"Okay, try it now."

Water drips. Thrum of machinery. Rattling tools. The scent of incense.

A gestalt hand gripped a switch. "Got it. Here she goes."

Click.

Fump. Fump. Fump.

One by one, overhead bulbs sparked to life. Spotlights that illuminated the length of the utility shaft. Casting in a warm glow the group of astonished gestalts.

"Phew!" a man whistled, removing an oil-stained denim cap. Shielded his eyes, watching the corridor spring into action. "Blimey! Haven't seen this place bright-up in years!"

"Good work, girl!" said another man, clapping.

"Told you it would work," Kite chuckled, leaning against a wall of horizontal pipes.

The Ara shuffled hooves-first from the maintenance crawlspace, dragging her tools by hand and mechadendrite. Oxide-red robes bright in the new light. She raised her spiral-pattern goggles.

"You were right," Myrtle said, scratching her purple hair. "I can see why it gave you so much trouble."

 

"...hrrmm...why do I have to do this?"

Chatting, giggling, humming. Hands fretted with fabric, scissors, needles. The patter of tiny feet, and exuberant squeals.

"Oh, it's not so bad, is it?" Vanessa said, smiling. She plucked a pin from her teeth and fixed a flap of baby-blue material in place. "You're looking very handsome. Doesn't he?"

Samantha nodded, humming. "Distinguished."

"..." The gestalt stood ramrod straight, arms rigid at his sides. He pursed his lips awkwardly, face beet red. Eyes locked on his reflection in the mirror, studying the ostentatious suit the Eules fastidiously sewed him into.

"...again..." Chip mumbled, wincing as a replika woman took a comb to his newly washed hair. "Why do I have to do this?"

"Sorry," Meryl said, patting the gestalt on the shoulder. The blue-haired Eule smiled. "The girls and I don't get many chances to experiment with men's fashion. We're all excited."

"...you really don't have any blokes on your ship?" the young man grumbled, eyes drifting down to the cook's bust as she leaned in to adjust his silk ruff. "..."

"Well, there's Adler," Sally said, from across the room. Bouncing a giggling gestalt girl on her hip. Flashed a smile when the child clapped a curious hand on a newly grown cheek, devoid of arcane script. "But...well..."

"He's...not predisposed toward wearing anything but serviceable, if neat, clothing," Vanessa said, shrugging. She grabbed Chip's arm and bid him extend it out to the side. She unspooled a tape measure. "A professional, he says." She sighed. "A shame. He cuts such a dashing figure."

"He'd definitely look killer in a suit, I think," Meryl said, nodding. Gave Chip a quizzical look when the gestalt suddenly stood at attention and fixed his eyes back on the Eule's face, blushing.

"Most of the other girls back on the Nomarch don't really go for masculine fashion either," Samantha said, pinning a decorative chain to Chip's belt. "Mom is generally willing to indulge us with whatever..."

"...and she looks great in a man's uniform," Meryl said, looking at the cavernous ceiling of the Duarch's officer changing quarters. "She definitely has the figure for it..."

"But she's also busy all the time," Vanessa sighed, shaking her head, eyes shut. "We can't very well ask her to come down to get fitted for a suit. Not when she has so much on her plate. 'So much to do, so little time to do it'..."

The eldest Eule motioned toward a pair of her junior sisters, who brought over a padded chair. "Sit, please," Vanessa said, patting the gestalt on the shoulder.

"O-oh, okay..." Chip said, sitting carefully so as to avoid ripping (another) pair of pastel-colored slacks. He puffed his cheeks out, watching the pair of Eules kneel and present a stack of shoe boxes. "W-wait, my shoes are..."

"Too big for you," Meryl said, throwing her hands up. "Honestly, it's amazing they stay on at all..."

"I'll grow into them!" Chip groaned, crossing his arms and huffed.

"..."

The Eules all went quiet. The silence only broken by the cries of children playing hide-and-seek among nearby racks of clothing.

Then, as if in unison, glanced up at the ceiling.

"Oh. Right." Vanessa said, fingers fidgeting with a lock of straw-colored hair. "You're a gestalt, so...you WILL grow, won't you?"

"Oh yeah..." Samantha said, stroking her chin.

"...I miss wearing shoes," Sally sighed, frowning. "Obviously, I have little personal experience, outside voidsuit boots or when we ran around disguised on Rotfront, but..."

"No, I miss it too," Samantha sighed, squatting on the carpet dejectedly. "The Ur-Eule used to go shoe shopping, didn't she?"

"Maybe?" Meryl said, shrugging. "I don't have memory of that..."

"..." Chip looked between the Eules, bewildered. The gestalt didn't understand what they meant. But he could pick up the awkward sadness in their demeanors. "...uh...so, are you sure you don't have anyone else who can model for you?"

Vanessa snapped to attention. "Oh, uh...not really." She crossed her arms, thinking. "The Aras generally don't care about fashion, and get...sensitive when 'handled'."

"Can confirm," Sally said, transfering the confused little girl to her other hip. "Getting Myrtle to do any kind of physical contact took a while, back when we started dating. And she hates change. Getting her to update her wardrobe, let alone model for it, would be impossible."

"The Stars and Storches have more...masculine energy, I guess?" Meryl said, scratching her scalp. "But...well..."

"Only Ishtar volunteers for it," Samantha said, frowning. "And she prefers girly clothing."

"Breach would probably come in for a fitting, if Ishtar asked," Meryl said, holding up an index finger. "Maybe we could ask Ish to convince her."

"Hrrm...well...remember how difficult it was making Ish's dress?" Vanessa said, grimacing. "Stars and Storches are...just too damn tall. If we get Breach in, we need to have her model with her Ara legs."

"Agreed," Meryl nodded.

"Wh-what?" Chip said, looking between them. "Ara legs?"

"Well yeah," Samantha said, looking up at the gestalt teen. She spread a leg out and tapped her shin. It knocked audibly. "Our legs are mechanical."

"All our meat parts are up here," Sally said, pointing at her head, neck, and torso. "So when the big girls need to fit into voidsuits, someone has to help them swap legs."

"Weird," Chip said, furrowing his brow. He averted his gaze, suppressing the sudden thought about what the replika girls had between their legs. He blushed. "S-so why d-do those ladies...even have the long legs to begin with?"

Vanessa opened her mouth and raised an index finger, then closed it again. Finger wilting. "...uh..." She let her hand drop. "You know, I don't know why Elster built them all that tall..."

"It was to intimidate Diodana into compliance."

"Dash!" Samantha cried, hopping to her hooves and running over to the metal and cloth frames partitioning off the area from the rest of the large room. Her girlfriend, naturally, towered over the top.

"Hey babe," Dash said, pulling her mask off and bending down over the top of the frame. She shared a kiss with the Eule. "...how's it going?" She frowned. "Sorry, I should have asked if the kid was decent."

"I-it's okay..." Chip said, shrinking in his chair. He frowned, blushing. "And I'm not a kid!"

Holding her beaming girlfriend's hand, Dash looked toward the ceiling, considering. "...yeah, you're probably right. Pretty sure you're older than all of us."

"Ha!" Chip cried, raising hands over his head, triumphant.

He then did a double take, brows rising.

"...wait, what?"

 

"So...what're all those scratches for?"

Hammers tapped the blunt ends of metal tools. Sharp ends gouged thin grooves in metal. Hands shuffled papers scrawled with dense, arcane script.

Bodies crowded a work area set up in a disused conference room. Floor littered with carefully machined, curved panels of sheet metal.

The Kolibri sat up, wiping her brow. Eyes looking down, inspecting her work.

"...wards," Nimue said, double-checking her pages. "They'll hopefully keep all the..." She looked over her shoulder, frowning.

Maria, hunched over her workbench, paused. Shivered. Then, swallowed, resuming work. "...the daemons..." she mumbled.

"Right, those," Nimue sighed, scratching her head. Looked to her side, and smiled.

"...you sure?" Elethia said, crossing pale, veiny arms. Two 'safe' eyes peeked out from under her hood. "Cause Nessie said the Warp things were really scary."

"They...certainly are that, yes," Nimue sighed, hanging her head.

"..." Maria swallowed again, not taking her eyes off her work.

"B-but it's okay, because these wards do their job," Nimue said, holding up one finger. "Daemons can't get in at all."

"...so long as they're fully encircled," Maria muttered, chewing her lip.

The Navigator cast a curious glance to the Eule. "...what's her problem?"

"Be nice, please," Nimue said, patting the gestalt on the shoulder. "We've...we've all had a rough time of it." The blond Kolibri cast a furtive glance at the Eule's back. "...some...more than others..."

"..." Mouth pursed in befuddlement, Elethia shrugged. "...so...where are these going, anyway? Shouldn't you be writing them on the walls?"

"Oh, we'll be doing that eventually," Nimue said, patting the sheet in front of her. "But this work takes time, and you have to be at least a little bioresonant to do it. For now, we're focusing on key locations. These ones are going to..."

 

"...a meditation room?"

Light reflected off face shields. Focused flames welded panels together. Servo skulls - replika and gestalt - flitted around the room, hovering near ceilings being converted from vaulted to curved.

"Yes," Jenny said, pausing to kill the flame on her welding torch. Turned her whole body, before raising her face shield. She smiled. "It's for our Kolibris."

"Which one're those again?" said the dark-skinned gestalt worker. "Can't keep track of you ladies, and your 'models'."

"They're the little ones," Jenny giggled, holding a hand horizontally, closer to the floor. "With the stars on their foreheads. They're 'psykers', I think you call them."

"Oh yeah, them," said the gestalt, nodding. His head tilted back, examining the construction in progress. A sphere encased within the larger room. "Why'd they need a room...like this?"

"Partly to help them focus," Jenny said, turning her body. Face shield went down, as her vision rove over the two Schnappers busy welding, alongside Aras and gestalt workers. "Partly, to keep them safe from...the things on the other side." She turned back, raising her shield and smiling. "And partly because, I'm told, it just gives them a break from hearing everyone's thoughts."

"...they read minds?" the gestalt said, frowning. A bead of sweat broke out on his brow. "Don't know how I like that..."

"I suspect they can't really help it," Jenny nodded with her entire body, smiling apologetically. "Circe once described is as...being in a building with thin walls, where everyone talks loudly. Even if you don't enter a room to snoop, it's impossible not to overhear." She turned back to the wall, studying her weld in progress. Watched the glowing seam dim. "They need a place to cool off, every once in a while."

"...ship's a big place, isn't it?" the man said, crossing his arms. "Can't be that hard to find somewhere with no people. Ship's mostly empty."

"Oh yes, there's not a lot of people living here, anymore," Jenny nodded with her entire frame. "But we aim to change that, as we make more replikas. Plus..."

"...plus what?" the man said, cocking an eyebrow.

Jenny lowered her face shield.

"...it's not just the living that talk here."

 

"...and what was the name of your daughter, again?"

Frost collected on mess hall glass dividers. Breath visible, bodies shivered. The space empty, but not unoccupied.

A red finger tapped a pen. Replika eyes locked on the spectre floating in front.

"Alizabeth," crooned the woman, wrinkled face taut with concern beneath a mop of hair that billowed in the ethereal wind. "Spelled with an 'A'. She's got the mole on her left cheek."

"It's 'Alizabeth', spelled with an 'A'," Circe nodded, face turned fractionally to her left. "Mole on left cheek."

"...brr...left...cheek," Adler muttered, shivering. Felt phantom goosebumps on his polyethylene skin. Pen rapidly scratched notation on his clipboard.

Circle looked to the ghost. "We'll make sure she gets the message," she said.

"Oooh...thank you, young lady!" the ghost woman cried, smiling and clasping her hands together. She reached out with hesitation, placing her other hand over her mouth. "You're too kind..."

"You're very welcome," Circe smiled, touching the tips of her fingers against the ghost's hand. Felt the chill of the touch radiate up her arm.

"Alright, alright," said the Storch, leaning over the Kolibri's shoulder. "Let's go. Move along." She floated up straight, raising her voice. "Next!"

As the bereaved mother floated away, the long line of phantoms inched forward. Waiting patiently, though some more than others.

"...can't believe this..." grumbled the shade in the tatters of an Imperium Navy uniform. Stared ruefully at the queue in front of him. Officer's hat balanced atop a bare skull. "...does no one care about rank, anymore?"

"Pipe down, cap'n," grunted another ghost floating in front of him, muscles bulging. His half-skull turned to look over his shoulder. "Wait your turn."

"Yeah, you miserable bastard," muttered another shade behind the officer. "We're all nixed here, yeah? Rank don't mean nothin'." His toothy grin turned up unnaturally. "Or do you want to tangle with the girl's lanky girlfriend again?"

"..." The Captain of the ship formerly known as the Human Purity cast a glance across the room, catching the eye of the Storch.

Hippolyta noticed his look, and glared. Cracked her knuckles. "..."

Were it possible for the phantom suggestion of bleached bones to pale further, the officer might have. He shrank down, shivering. Looking away, the former Captain crossed his arms and grumbled. "...'s not fair."

"Shoulda come earlier, then," chuckled the shade behind him.

After their first encounter, when the captain tried to assert his authority, there would be no line skipping or presumption anymore.

When Der Geistermeister held court, all respected the principles of 'Play Nice' and 'First Come, First Serve'.

---

"L-lord Zod!"

Boots squeaked together, their occupants sprang to attention. Lasguns shouldered, free hands locked in salute.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"At ease," rumbled the Astartes Captain, voice deep and impatient. He trudged down the long corridor, flanked by two more Legionaries. A pair of his 'honor guard'.

Arrayed in sea-green armour, these Sons of Horus marched between two lines of Auxillia troops. Watched from the corner of their eyes as each pair of baseline human soldiers snapped a salute, marking the passage of their betters.

The corridor, like in all proper orbital infrastructure, yawned cavernous. Vaulted ceiling towered multiple storeys tall, support columns thick around as entire civilian land vehicles.

Enormous windows opened up as they passed, bathing the station's vast hall in crimson light.

"..." The Captain cast a glance to his left. Not for the first time, his Astartes mind took in the totality of the planet below.

Kitezh. The farming and desert world of this...solar backwater. Vast, flat, and oxide red.

Oxide red. Like Mars.

"..." The Captain sneered. Thought of his 'Father'. Word traveled slow from the front lines, even through the expanse of Horus Lupercal's Shadow Empire, that dominated the northern Segmentum Obscurus. Had Horus fought his way to Sol by now?

Unlikely, given latest reports, but those were terribly out of date. The Chambers sub-sector (known bitterly among star-farers as the "Chambers Snarl") proved difficult to reach and navigate at the best of times. Hard to communicate with, even without the Ruinstorm. Eusan proved among its least accessible systems.

Hence, why he chose it as his HQ.

If the Loyalist dogs chose the Snarl as a flanking route, finding the Legion's command elements - much less decapitating them - would be hardest here. Its very inconvenience made it a tactical asset...no matter how frustrating.

"..."

How the Captain longed to march across Mars's oxide red soil. To bring war to the last of the pitiful Loyalist hold-outs, then vault the interplanetary gap to siege Terra herself. How he longed to fight, side by side, with the Warmaster. With his 'Father'.

He shook his head, tearing eyes away from the 'False-Mars' bouncing sunlight down on them.

Forced down the bile in his throat. The indignity. The disappointment.

I have no time for this, he thought, grimly.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

They halted facing a doorway, guarded by more Auxilia.

"Open," he said, flatly.

With no further prompting, a soldier stood an inch taller, saluted, and pressed the door panel.

Shing.

"...g'oh..."

Inside, a beaten and exhausted Archmagos raised his head, groaning.

Had he still eyelids behind his photo-receptors, he might have blinked at the red light shining through. Were his arms not bound, and mechadendrites cruelly ripped off, he might have shielded his face. Instead, he hung limp from chains affixed to the ceiling of his own former workshop.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Yngarl Zod, Captain of the Sons of Horus 411th Company, strode across the catwalk and stopped before his prisoner. Topknot of red hair flopped back and forth, before settling behind him. Piercing amber eyes regarded the priest contemptuously. "Xerxes."

"...hah...wh-what do you want, t-traitor?" coughed Archmagos Rai Xerxes, augmented voice balanced between paltry defiance and fear. "I've g-given you the Kitezh Forge-fane. I've endured the 'ministrations' of your men. Divulged all pertinent operation data on Eusan and its systems. What more do you seek to take from me?"

"Brave words," Zod said, pacing back and forth. Gauntleted hand rested on the hilt of his Charnabal sabre. "We're both busy men, after a fashion. Myself, in maintaining control of the Snarl and its industrial and strategic assets. You, in pondering the price of rejecting the Warmaster's generous offers..."

"I surrendered in four hours!" Xerxes cried through his rebreather.

"Four hours too many!" spat Zod, jerking his head toward the Archmagos. Gauntleted hand gripped his sabre hilt. After a pause, he snapped his mouth shut, mastering himself. "...as I said, we're busy men, so I'll get to the point. Since our last...'discussion', certain aspects of the Eusan system's history were availed to me."

The Captain turned on his heel, and drew close, smiling as the Archmagos flinched back. "You will tell me...about these so-called 'Replikas'."

"Th-the Abominable Intelligences!?" sputtered Xerxes, shaking his head. "Such blasphemies are a relic of the past! I saw to it they were erased! They are no more!"

"Really?" Zod said, narrowing his eyes. He paced. Turned. Paced again. "More's the pity. The damage you and the False Emperor's forces inflicted on Eusan was extensive. On its population. I can hardly maintain production quotas, when the labor force is barely enough to keep itself functioning." He leaned forward, hissing, "I need a surplus of workers, Xerxes."

"S-s-servitors should suffice," the Archmagos said, looking away. "Convert more of the population if you must. Or take them from surrounding systems."

"Servitors cannot be terrified into working harder," Zod said, continuing to pace. "They require too much supervision, direction. They're idiot things, as much automatons as the robots you so despise."

"Blasphemy!" Xerxes cried. He cringed, as the Astartes raised an arm, as if to backhand him. "Ngh..."

Lowering his arm, Zod sneered. "Moreover, the other Chambers systems either have industries of their own, or are proving...difficult to tap for labor. That frontier world, Contengie, is in full revolt. Their homesteaders retreated into the mountains and forests, rather than submit to relocation. My mortal forces don't know the area well enough to find them, let alone curb their...independent streaks."

"...f-finding it...d-difficult to control your new holdings, traitor?" Xerxes muttered, letting out a wheezing laugh.

"...it will come under control," Zod said, scowling. He paced, glaring the Archmagos into silence. "...but it's all more distractions. Delays. Demanding commitments of forces I would rather keep ready for retaliation from the Loyalist dogs. I need more options." He stopped before the Archmagos. Clapped his hands behind his back. Leaned forward. "These replikas. These...manufactured workers, who come online ready and able to perform. Tell me all about them."

"...th-they're gone, Zod," Xerxes said, shaking his head. "I killed them all. And destroyed the knowledge, infrastructure, tools, and neural patterns needed to create more. As was my responsibility as a servant of the Omnissiah..."

Bam!

"Gah!" the Archmagos flinched, as the Captain slammed a fist into one of the support beams flanking the priest. Photo-receptors saw solid plasteel deform under transhuman ferocity. "...I...I-I-..."

"There must be something left," Zod hissed, leaning into the techpriest's face. "Data, scraps of knowledge, preserved examples, surviving experts. Give. Me. Something."

Breathing heavily, Xerxes stared at the Astartes. Looked away, sputtering. "...ngh...may-...be...I..."

Rai Xerxes considered himself a pious, loyal servant of the Machine God and the Omnissiah. Made it his whole self-identity, in fact. Unlike other adherents of the Machine Cult, whose faith was lacking, Xerxes fully believed that the Emperor of Terra was, in fact, the Omnissiah. Agent of the Machine God's will, given flesh.

To break covenant with His Holiness, as the thrice-cursed Fabricator General had? Blasphemy unto itself.

"Well?" Zod said, holding up a gauntleted fist and clenching it. Segmented ceramite plates audibly ground against one another.

Rai Xerxes was a pious, faithful man. But, nonetheless, he WAS a man. Just a man.

Tortured, humbled, exhausted, and terrified by threats real and implied...men break. Men bend.

"Alright, alright!" Xerxes gasped, pulling himself up slightly by the chains holding him. He leaned his head back fractionally. "One of m-my bondsmen, Magos Biologus Ithrid Gar! He dissected and studied replika technology, during the Compliance!"

"I thought you destroyed all trace of replikas?" Zod said, tilting his head to the side. He smiled, growling. "You weren't lying to me, were you Xerxes?"

"I-I wasn't lying! I ordered it all destroyed!" Xerxes said quickly, shaking bodily. "B-but...Gar insisted the research, the technology, held merit. Insisted the Abominable Intelligences were...w-were p-people! Humans!"

"None of you are people, Xerxes," Zod said, rising to his full, transhuman height. Cast an immense shadow over the trembling cyborg. "You're all animals, next to the might and excellence of the Astartes. Evolutionary stepping stones on the path to humanity's true future. You...throwbacks exist only so your kind may serve your betters. The Warmaster will see to it you're all put back in your place."

He inclined his head back fractionally, to more ably look down on the tech-fanatic. "...continue. Your man knows?"

"...y-yes...i-if anyone yet understands replika technology, it is Magos Gar," Xerxes said, nodding. "Go ask him! H-he should be within his fane, planetside. Already within your grasp."

"I will dispatch agents to retrieve Magos Gar immediately, yes," Zod said. He turned his head, addressing one of the baseline human guards stood at attention on the periphery catwalks. "Ithrid Gar, Magos Biologus. See it done."

"Of course, my lord!" cried the soldier. Without another word, he warily navigated the catwalks overlooking the plunging shaft below. The door slid open at his approach.

Captain Zod didn't watch the animal leave. He looked at the other worm, strung up before him. Somewhere, in the foggy depths of his memory, he conjured up images of a blind Cthonian cave fish.

"Despite how it may appear, Xerxes," he said, grinning, "I like you. You know how to get with the program. Eventually. Continue being cooperative, and you may find a position within the new order yet."

"..." Xerxes looked the Astartes up and down. "...what?"

"Just don't forget, wretch," Zod hissed, letting the smile drop. "There's no shortage of magi within the 'True Mechanicum', loyal to Horus, who would gladly take your forge-domain for themselves. If you would rather keep what you've built here, you do as I say. Understand?"

The Archmagos deflated, sagging in his chains. "...yes...I understand, Captain Zod."

"Good," Zod said. Without a word, he spun on his heel and stomped toward the door. As his Legionary guards fell in behind him, he paused. Turned to one of them.

"When we have Gar, I want everything he knows. Summon 'Alpharius'."

---

"...you're sure you want to commit time to...that? With everything else on our plate?"

Storage containers sat partially loaded. Second calibration pod in partial assembly. Schematics lined the walls of the Nomarch's replika workshop, partially devised.

Elster looked up from the workbench, wrist-deep in a custom chassis. She cast a glance sideways. "I know it's not exactly...pleasant..."

Floating in amniotic fluid, the brain radiated a baleful aura.

The Kolibri pressed her back against the wall, furthest from the brain. Circe scowled. "I hate it."

"That's the Null effect talking," Elster said, tapping a screwdriver against the chassis's leg. "Don't worry, I feel it too. But the reaction is motivated by discomfort. It...she is just another replika, waiting to be born."

"I'm entitled to my feelings, mom," Circe said, glaring at the brain. She shut her eyes. "Look, I get that you want to use more replikas to solve problems..."

"It's worked fairly well until now, yes," Elster nodded, continuing her work.

"But why not work on that other model?" Circe said, crossing her arms. "The one we talked about. I hashed out a ritual for implantation and everything. The chassis is complete. We just need to...do it."

"I know," Elster said, nodding. Eyes locked on the construction at hand.

"Then why not?" Circe groaned, rubbing fingers into her scalp in frustration. "The others need-"

"I know, Circe," Elster said, flatly. Looked up to meet her daughter's eyes. Taking a breath, she softened her tone. "I know. Believe me, I want nothing more than to get her up and running. To get the crew the help they need." She massaged her eyes. "Verdammt, do they need it."

"...then why?" Circe breathed. She held her hands out. Gesticulated in the direction of the hateful lobes. "Why...this? Why the FDMR?"

"...after the incident, I made up my mind," Elster said, closing her eyes. "Wards aren't enough. Anti-Chaos training and weapons aren't enough. We need a dedicated weapon against the darkness. A silver bullet." She took a ragged breath. "...only then, will my babies be safe. It's insurance."

"But we're not going out into the Warp again for several months at least! Maybe an entire year or more!" Circe said, hands out, palms upraised. "The only daemon anywhere near here is 'upstairs'."

The Kolibri caught her mother's glance.

That knowing, piercing stare. A look that seemed to say, "Exactly."

"..."

Circe frowned. "...even so...can't it wait? Have you even figured out how to implant a neural pattern on a Blank?"

"..." Elster broke eye contact, looking at the brain. Then, down at the chassis intended for it. "Not yet."

"How long will that take?" Circe said, exasperated. "Do you even know if it's possible? And even if it is...why now? Why not make the KNCR first? So the others...aren't left waiting forever..."

Elster inhaled. Exhaled. Looked down at her hand, at her palm. Closed it.

"...like I said...insurance."

Chapter 104: Black Hole Sun

"...mmrrr...why do I have to do it?"

Water burbled. Motors hummed. Fresh, aromatic sprouts jutted from holes in PVC pipes. Gestalt children ogled splashes of green in a sea of metal and eggshell paint. An older girl ushered them down one of the Duarch's many cavernous corridors.

The eldest Ara sighed. Put down her tray of seedlings. "I know how you feel," Daisy said, turning to look over her shoulder. "I'd do it myself, if...you know..."

"Mom can handle being in its presence," Rose said, forcing a frown. Crossed her arms. "She's a stronger bioresonant than you."

"She's also used to enduring pain," Daisy said, flatly. "She's stubborn like that. We both know this."

"Yes," Rose nodded. She fidgeted with the hem of her white lab coat. "She is. That's the problem."

"I know," Daisy said, looking away. "I just...I get a headache, when I'm there. You don't. It's less an imposition."

Her younger sister growled, furrowing her brow. Looked to the wall. "..."

The Ara wanted to chew her elder sister out. To stamp her hoof and moan and tell Daisy 'no', simply because she didn't want to. That Rose had better things to do with her time than spend it with mom.

But...that would require asserting herself, socially. Of formulating a cogent response in words. And...that was an even greater pain in the ass.

"Does she even need supervision?" Rose said, inclining her head forward. Easier to simply evade the real problem. "Mom's a big girl. If she wants to bang her head against an anti-bioresonant brain for hours, let her."

Daisy sighed. Stooped, and picked up the seed tray. Looked over her shoulder. "...please?" she said, face impassive, tone pleading. "Can you just...do this for me? As a favor?"

"..." Rose shut her eyes and sighed grumpily. "...fine."

"Thank you," Daisy said, forcing a smile. She turned around and pressed her forehead against her sister's.

Rose returned the soft headbutt, reluctantly. "Machine God dammit," she muttered, shaking her head. Sighed again.

It was just watching mom do her work. Elster had the process down rote.

How difficult could implanting a Blank brain be, really?

 

...fuck...

It was like staring directly at a black sun.

Ethereal wind tickled the Machine Mother's cheek. Whirled around the thing that hung, indomitable and contemptuous, in the mental void. A perfect, hateful sphere, swallowing all light and giving nothing back.

Despite herself, Elster averted her gaze. Cast pained glances its way. Primordial dark, blinding in intensity, an inversion of normal stars.

Hugging herself, she swallowed. ...nothing ventured...

Tentatively, she circled around the Blank brain, seeking a crack or fault in the Null field. Her physical fingers stung, where she pressed them to glass in the material world. To the contemptible compartment. Grimly, Elster suspected the electronic medium of the Empire implantation device provided a vital buffer. Allowed her to even venture this far.

Miming with her hands, Elster conjured a ten foot pole. Holding it in front of her, she prodded gently, experimentally.

Wwwrrrrr.

Air charged with static, thrumming in a deep base, black sparks arced off the orb and struck the end of the pole.

SNAP.

"Ah!" Elster gasped materially, flinching. In the mental realm, she backed up, watching the end of the pole disintegrate before her eyes. Pulled it back, and studied the smoking end.

...shit...

Glancing up at the sphere, she frowned.

So much to do, so little time to do it. In the material world, she bounced her hoof up and down impatiently.

While she dilly-dallied, her children suffered. While progress here stalled, more important projects remained in limbo. Vital options gathered dust.

Ariane's imprisonment stretched on, just a little longer.

Elster cast the pole aside.

Fuck it.

She took up a silver pitcher, containing the FDMR neural pattern. Suspiciously easy to fish from the archive. As if the echo of the gestalt to which it once belonged could scarcely conceive of resisting psychic manipulation.

Because in life, such was always a categorical impossibility.

Inhale. Exhale. Elster looked from the pitcher to the sphere. From pattern, to vessel. Gulping, Elster held up a free hand, and slowly approached.

One hoofstep. Two. Three.

Mental arms shaking, she approached the Blank brain. A buzz in her ears. In her mind. Grew louder with each step.

Somewhere, in the back of her head, the voice of danger. Drowned out by the roar of psychic interference roiling before her. Deafened her to the bioresonant sense upon which she'd unknowingly come to rely.

All she felt was a throbbing, piercing pain.

Gritting her teeth, she looked sidelong at the darkshine looming larger and larger. The entire mindscape warped, seen through a fisheye lens. Until, as phantom goosebumps and tingling played across her skin, the ORB dominated her field of view.

Heart racing, head pounding, mind screaming to no avail, Elster made to reach for the sphere. For the mind she knew lay underneath.

...almost...there...

Wwwrrrr.

A single finger drew a hair's bredth awa-

SNAP!

 

Crash!

Rose sat bolt upright from her stool, eyes snapping away from her medical textbook. "...!"

Elster, head clad in Empire pattern implantation helmet, twitched on the metal floor.

"..." Adrenaline flooding her veins, the Ara staggered to her hooves. "Mom?"

The two weren't on good terms, of late. Stress of nearly dying. Of...Chicory. Of having to explain it to Tulip, with whom Chicory shared the closest relationship. Of non-stop surgeries, to return her family to a semblance of health and normality, even as her own body struggled to recover.

Of...knowing that even with a year's sabbatical, Elster would just drag a bunch of them into battle again. That her obsessive drive to free the White Mother, no matter how sympathetic, would only enact more suffering. To the family, to herself, and to the galaxy.

Intellectually, Rose knew it all hurt Elster most. It didn't change that Rose, for whom healing was vocation and Special Interest both, hurt too. As a frail, mortal replika, as a sister, and as a doctor.

She'd barely said a word to Elster in return, when she showed up to the implantation. She just...wanted it to be over. To...not have to spend more time with a mother who just didn't seem to get it.

All thoughts of disagreement evaporated, as the Ara sank to her knees before the woman whose twitches - and breathing - stilled.

"MOM!"

---

After a spark, silence. Absolute silence.

Darkness. All-consuming darkness.

Complete sensory deprivation.

Panicking, Elster tried to twist or grope or scream into the void.

She felt more dead than ever before. Her mind on fire.

Howling silently in the dark, Elster Thrice-born tried to hug herself. She didn't know if she succeeded. She couldn't feel her arms.

Only the interminable, numbing pain of coming apart. Of unraveling. Of being unmade. Disassembled, molecule by molecule. Memory by memory. Thought by tho-

"No. You are MINE."

Elster, unmoored from her own perceptions, felt a metal claw seize her by the midsection.

She couldn't voice the mix of alarm and ecstatic relief, as claws wrenched her back across the fathomless deep. Out of the Nothing that sought to consume her whole. Out of nonexistence, into the agony of being.

Elster was not. And then she was again.

 

"Wake up, serv-"

"AAAAAGH!"

Elster bolted upright, screaming. Hugged herself. Sweat poured down her face. Every nerve ending on fire. "Aaaagh! Aaaaaagh! Haaah..."

Yet, as she hunched over, wailing and shivering, she couldn't stop herself clinging to the pain. Like the rush of drowning lungs sucking precious air.

Irrefutable proof she still existed. That she remained stubbornly, painfully alive.

After a fashion, anyway.

"...hahh...hhaaaahh..."

Her eyes, half-blinded by beautiful sight, blinked at the hull of the Penrose beneath her. Then, drifting up, frantically scanned the horizon.

Like mountains flanking a deep valley, the debris field circling the Blackstone Fortress hung against an infinite backdrop of stars.

"...your hysterics ended, pseudo-fleshling?"

Elster gasped a ragged breath, fumbling to her knees. Shivered violently. "...hah...ngh...y-yes..."

Vashtorr the Arkifane stood at the prow of the Penrose, observing the Blackstone Fortress that loomed behind the hull of the Duarch. "Attend me, then."

He looked over his shoulder, noticing the replika struggle to stand. "Nevermind. Attend my words, servant."

"...o-okay..." Elster breathed, falling over. Shivered, gasping. "I-I'm sorry, D-Dark Artificer..."

"Whatever it was you were..." Vashtorr stopped, single metal claw raised. Clenched his hand. Looked sharply away.

To admit ignorance - blindness - was unacceptable.

"Rather, that which induced your death, servant. You will not repeat it."

Clutching her face, Elster panted, eyes locked on the hull beneath her. She gasped. "...what...what happened?"

"Explain yourself. What hoped you to achieve?"

"...I...I was..." Elster put one arm under her and pushed to sitting position. She shivered.

Terrible memory of the abyss. Of...feeling herself dying. Of the attempted unmaking.

Vashtorr sighed, the furnace in his mouth flaring. "...understand, servant, that I just rescued you from oblivion. A feat only possible through the connection our pact facilitates. And done at great pains, may I add." He looked over his shoulder, vacuous eyes burning. "Such beneficence merits gratitude, agreed?"

"Y-yes!" Elster gasped, bowing her head. "Th-thank you, Dark Artificer! I..."

Coming down from the excitement, it struck Elster how close she came to actually dying, in a permanent way. Of meeting obliteration, and leaving Ariane behind. Unrescued and alone.

It sent a shiver up the replika's spine. Eyes dilated, face paled.

"Gratitude received, LSTR Five One Two." Vashtorr turned away again, playing with his hammer. "From available data, your foolishness overloaded your mortal brain. Torched synapses, shorted Brain Machine Interface diodes. Your body is quite deceased at present. Your offspring already attend to the matter, and Mik'hul presently debriefs your distraught KLBR units of the continued existence of your soul."

"...oh..." Elster breathed, collapsing to her hands and knees. "...good...that's good..."

"Resuscitation forthcoming," Vashtorr sighed, almost bored. "As is the fee for my beneficence, additional penalty appended for the...singular difficulty of soul retrieval. You understand."

Elster frowned. Slumped onto her chest. She slammed her fist repeatedly, impotently against the hull. Her digital interface already ticked up the Soul Count before her eyes.

STUPID. STUPID. STUPID!

"Until next meeting, enjoy additional time with your woman, LSTR Five One Two." Vashtorr looked over his shoulder. "It ill bears repetition, but refrain from...soul-sundering experimentation in the future, yes? That was...inconvenient."

Chest wracked with tortured sobs, Elster managed to whine out an answer.

"...y-yes...hic...Dark Artificer..."

---

"Oh good, you're back."

Elster accepted the hug. Embraced her girlfriend, sighing. "...how long were you waiting?"

Ariane Yeong stepped back, taking the replika's hands. She glanced down, sighing. "...two days..."

"...I'm so sorry, Ari," Elster breathed, kissing the gestalt's pale hands. "I'm sorry you...wake up when I'm not around."

"How long has it been for you?" Ariane said, giving a small smile. "Did you miss me?"

"Always," Elster said, nodding. "And...not as long as I'd have wished."

The gestalt's brows furrowed, at first slightly offended. She tilted her head to the side, studying her lover's dour expression. "...did...something happen?"

"It's nothing," Elster said, shutting her eyes. She flashed a reassuring smile. "I just died again."

Immediately, the replika regretted being so candid.

Ariane's eyes widened.

"You WHAT!?"

---

"We've got company!"

Dusty floors vibrated with stamping feet and hooves. Light filtered through metal window shutters and ceiling holes. Magazines clicked into weapons.

The gestalt waved a group toward the elevator door.

"Go, go," said Rebecca Liang, sweat pouring down her face. "Move, and don't stop."

"What about you?" cried the Eule, turning from the cart her companions pushed onto the platform. "We can't-"

"Don't argue, just move!" Rebecca barked, baring her teeth. She took a breath. "I'll be fine. I promise. Just...this is more important. You're all more important."

Brows furrowed and mouths contorted, her students reluctantly took positions around the cart. Robe-clad desert fighters stood around them, armed to the teeth.

"...keep them safe," Rebecca said, to the Kitezh natives.

"The Clans protect," said the gestalt with the black, curly beard, nodding. Pressed a fist to his heart. Without another word, he slid the grated elevator doors shut, and cranked the brass lever.

Rebecca held a hand up, watching her students descend. "..."

Painstakingly cleared over several years, the tunnels beneath the station would lead them along abandoned underground networks. A succession of subways, utility tunnels, and waterlines.

Infrastructure built, apparently, long before the Grand Empress's rule. Before the Strife, and the dark times. In the hazy mists of Eusan's past, when it was a colony spawned from the great Terran diaspora across the stars. Repurposed by the Eusan Empire, then...forgotten.

The biologist turned away, exhaling. Shut her eyes, and pushed up her glasses.

Nothing in Rebecca's lab was irreplaceable. They made sure of that. Using her contacts among the nomads, the replika underground on Kitezh took root in as many of the native Clans as practical. These tribes, faithful to the Empress but with little loyalty to either Empire or Nation, held no friendship to the Imperium. When the pogroms began, they took in replikas out of compassion, practicality, and simple spite against their new oppressors.

If nothing else, thanks to Rebecca (and LSTR-512), they could keep their created clansmen and clanswomen going, even if one base failed. No sense in putting all their eggs in one basket.

Still...the materials would be expensive to replace, in time and money, let alone quietly. Those educated in their use, even more so. If they could be saved...

"..." Rebecca fished a pack of cigarettes from her front pocket. Held a stick in her teeth, as she patted her side pockets. "...where is...?"

"Need a light?"

The gestalt looked up. "...if you wouldn't mind."

The replika clicked their fingers. In an instant, light radiated from a white flame hovering over their thumb. "My pleasure."

Rebecca breathed, leaning into the proffered fire. Puffed as the cigarette took light. Inhaled a deep drag. Held the stick between two fingers, as she blew smoke out beside her. "...haah...a perfectly necessary use of bioresonance." She smiled. "Thank you, Adrian."

Extinguishing the tiny flame, the replika smiled from beneath their hood. Bowlcut of blond hair poked down over a pale, androgynous face. Hair and the strap of their leather eyepatch almost obscured the hexagram inlaid on their forehead.

R. Adrian Percivala rested a two-handed sword on their shoulder, its blade inlaid with gold filigree in astrologically significant patterns. Their sole remaining eye looked down, as they drew a pistol from their holster. Checked ammunition, then rested the pistol by their side. "Not going with them?"

"I could ask the same to you," Rebecca said, gesturing with her cig at the Percivala.

"Lord Percival was born to protect," Adrian said, inclining their head forward fractionally. They tapped the crimson breastplate half-covered by a colorful, patterned shawl across their chest. "I was built to do likewise. No matter the gap of self or mortality, our oaths are all the same."

"Well, I'm not leaving until we've bought them time," Rebecca said, taking another drag of her cig. She pushed her glasses up again. "Don't go dying, now. Your neural pattern is the most priceless thing here."

The non-binary replika laughed. "I'll make sure to leave you my brain, at least..."

Rumble.

The two stood to attention, as they heard vehicles roll in. The gestalt grabbed for the rifle slung on her back.

Several men and women - gestalt and replika - took positions next to windows or behind overturned workstations.

"They're here!" yelled a bearded man, peeking through window shutters. He passed a magazine to a replika behind him, then crouched down.

"Take cover behind the bar," Adrian said, raising their pistol.

Nodding, Rebecca jogged to the side of the long garage hosting a full bar. Shelves less populated than in decades past. Travelers still expected refreshment, especially this far out in the wastes.

She tapped the trapdoor behind the bar with her boot, and crouched. When defense became untenable, it would be escape for herself and everyone else.

Everyone who survived, anyway. "..."

Adrian took position at the front of the garage, pistol raised, sword resting against the ground. "Be ready, everyone."

Outside, the mechanical clacks and hydraulic hums of vehicles opening.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

"...oh Empress..." breathed the lookout, eyes going wide. "...fuck no..."

"What is it?" said Adrian, looking between the window shutters and the gestalt. "What do yo-?"

Shunk. Shunk. Shunk.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The defenders flinched, ducking, as the ceiling broke open with a series of small explosions. Not enough to do real structural damage. Just enough to punch (or widen) holes in the roof.

Then, before the lookout could recompose himself, they watched metal canisters drop down through the holes. They clattered to the floor.

Hssssss. Hssssss. Hsssss.

"Gas!" cried a defender.

Those with gas masks at hand fumbled with them. Everyone else clapped hands or cloth over their mouths. Yellow smoke filled the room, sending all unfortunates into coughing fits.

"...it's...hck...gck..." the lookout wheezed, shaking his head. "...it's...nck...them!"

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

The lookout yelled, stinging eyes peeking out the window. He staggered back, panicking.

"ASTARTES!"

BOOM!

Ceramite boot kicked the front door off its hinges, irrespective of reinforcement. Replikas and gestalts jumped away in alarm.

Rebecca, peeking over the counter and coughing, went wide-eyed. Heart skipped a beat.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Silhouetted by smoke and the glare outside, twin red lights pierced the gloom. The giant stalked into the garage, bolter raised.

"L-light 'em up!" cried a gestalt, raising her submachinegun. "Schnell!"

Rt-rt-rt-rt-rt-rt-rt-rt.

The Legionary strode through, solid shells plinking uselessly against his sea-green armor.

Behind him, two more giants approached to file inside.

Scanning the area, the foremost Astartes readied his bolter. Aimed with precision.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Argh!"

"NGH!"

"FFFUUU-"

Carefully placed shots exploded arms and legs from bodies. Sent defenders, gestalt and replika alike, to the ground in a shower of blood and shattered polyethylene.

"...hck...verdammt!" Rebecca coughed, ducking back down. Covered her ears against the cacophonous noise of miniature explosive rounds.

Crash!

Another pair of Legionaries burst through the metal shutters of a garage door. Red sand and light billowed in, as they flanked the defenders. Bolters drawn.

BAM. BAM.

"Noooo!"

Adrian, surrounded by horrible injuries and screaming warriors, rushed forward from impromptu cover. Casting empty sidearm aside, they raised a hand. Their sole eye lit up, before a flash of light shot out.

Against unprotected eyes, it might have blinded. Hidden behind the most advanced light dampeners the Imperium and its False Emperor could produce, the lead Astartes stood unfazed. He raised a bolter and aimed.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Ngh!" Adrian grunted, as bolt rounds exploded against a shining barrier of force erected between them. Each blow sparked and cracked the wall. "Doc! Get out of here!"

Rebecca, hunched behind the bar, winced at the light bouncing off the back wall. Burning cigarette clenched between her teeth, she growled. "I...I can't!"

"JUST GO!" Adrian roared, before charging. Their free hand slid across the flat of the sword, wreathing it in an aura of golden light. "YAGH!"

Almost taken aback by the homicidal psyker, the Legionary threw his bolter up to block.

Shing!

He blinked, seeing the weapon - and the front of his ceramite chestplate - split in twain like butter. "..."

Throwing the useless hunks of metal aside, the Legionary drew a combat knife with one hand, while throwing a punch with the other.

"!!!" Adrian, wide-eyed, jumped back, throwing their offhand out. Their eye glowed, summoning all the power they could defensively.

Crack!

"Agh!" the replika cried, their shield shattering against the full might of transhuman muscles. Thrown off their hooves, they felt the force of the blow carry into their torso. Without bioresonance and chestplate, their titanium ribs might have crumbled.

Or...perhaps not. As the replika rolled across the ground, their eye caught glimpses of Astartes warriors flooding the space. Shooting, not to kill, but to wound. To maim, to cripple. Blasting off limbs, or shattering bones with precision blows.

During the Invasion, so many years ago, the black-clad Iron Hands always engaged with lethal intent. Seeking the most efficient methods of murder, whether through heavy ordinance or on an individual basis. Precise, machine-like instruments of slaughter. The sea-green Sons of Horus did not do so. At least, not here.

The Sons of Horus here held back.

Against a mortal opponent, it might have given the chance of victory. Against Astartes, practically a farce. They toyed with their prey.

"...Rebe...cca!" Adrian gasped, planting their sword in the floor to force themselves up. "...run..."

Behind the replika, the Legionary cracked his neck. Rolled his wrist, knife glinting in the light.

Peeking out from behind the bar, Rebecca Liang watched in horror as the Astartes approached the Percivala, the last (known) of the Empress's revered Royal Guard. "!!!"

The gestalt looked down at the trapdoor. Hands groped at the handle. Then, mouth screwing shut, she hefted the automatic rifle in her hands.

"Rragh!" Adrian cried. Half blind by smoke, they swung glowing sword wide once, twice. The second blow parried by the Legionary's knife. Saw metal chip beneath bioresonantly augmented cut.

Crunch.

"AAARGH!" the replika screamed, as a giant hand grasped their wrist and squeezed. Felt titanium bones bend. Artificial nerves screamed along with them.

"Get off them!" Rebecca barked, rising from behind the bar. Aimed down iron sights of her rifle.

Rt-rt-rt-rt-rt-rt-rt.

The Legionary spared only a sidelong glance at the hail of bullets coming his way. He closed his hand around the Percivala's throat, and picked them up bodily.

Sweating, heart racing, Rebecca only just noticed the shadow pass over her from the side. "...!"

Something so large should not, by rights or biology, move so fast.

Another gauntleted hand closed over the biologist's rifle. Pulled it from her hands effortlessly. The strap looped around her torso pulled her off her feet, so she landed on the countertop.

"Oof!" Rebecca groaned, eyes looking up just in time to see the other Astartes pull rifle free from her shoulders.

Crunch.

The Sergeant dropped the crushed weapon from his hand, metal and plastic shards raining to the floor. "Doctor Liang, I presume?" he growled through his helmet grills, glowing red eyes glaring down at her.

Slam!

"Argh!" groaned Adrian, thrown back down on the ground.

"Ngh...Adrian!" Rebecca gasped, trying to rise. A giant hand clapped on her back and forced her down onto the bar. "Oof!"

"No, no, no," the Sergeant said, shaking his head. "Enough of that."

The gestalt's eyes widened, as he jammed the muzzle of a bolt-pistol against the side of her head.

Kicking the Percivala over, the subordinate Legionary placed a boot firmly on the replika's back.

"Gah!" Adrian grunted, eye widening. They felt pressure on their chest, as their armor groaned beneath the giant's weight.

"G-get...off her..." Rebecca breathed, looking between the two marines. Eyed the weapon fearfully. "...please..."

"Sarge, a question," said the Legionary, deigning to vocalize the question out loud, rather than carrying on the conversation over the squad's vox channel.

"Go ahead," said the Sergeant, speaking in a thick Cthonian drawl.

"We have to take them alive, right?"

"That's our orders, yes," the Sergeant nodded. "Don't kill it."

"Oh, I won't," chuckled the Legionary, shaking his head. "But Captain Zod won't mind if it's not in one piece, right? They're more durable, is my thinking. And this one's potentially dangerous."

"Don't!" Rebecca yelled, shivering in the Sergeant's grasp. A pit formed in her stomach.

"I don't think he'd mind at all," the Sergeant said. He looked down at the gestalt. "Though how many pieces it'll be in depends entirely on how...cooperative the good doctor is. Right, Liang?"

"Please...please..." Rebecca breathed, wincing. She shook her head. "You've got me right where you want me. J-just...don't hurt them."

She looked around the room. Saw giants standing triumphant over myriad groaning, bleeding bodies. Friends and allies clutched weeping or sparking stumps. Some passed out from pain or smoke or shock.

"...don't...hurt any of them...I'll do...whatever you want..."

The Sergeant inclined his head back with pride. "See, brothers? The good doctor has sense after all..."

As baseline human soldiers filed in from outside, the Legionaries chuckled performatively.

"...take just one of the machine's arms," the Sergeant finished.

"Agh!" Rebecca gasped, eyes dilating. "No!"

"As you wish," said the Legionary, reaching down.

"Gah!" Adrian gasped, struggling to summon bioresonant power with a new lungful of air. Their eye widened, as the Astartes pinned their chest down and wrenched their right arm back.. "Ngh! No!"

"G-get off them!" Rebecca cried, struggling against beneath the giant hand. Reached out a hand of her own. "DON'T!"

"Bag her up, will you?" the Sergeant said, as an Auxilia soldier approached and saluted. "I tire of her mewling."

"No, no..." Struggling impotently, Rebecca started to hyperventilate. Frantic eyes spotted a black bag raised over her head.

"Ffffuck...you!" Adrian roared, wincing as the Legionary began pulling on their arm. The air sparked with golden light, futile attempts to exert her Will. "L-lang...labe...die Kaiserin! Nnnngh!"

"NOOOO!" Rebecca screamed.

The last thing she saw before darkness enveloped her was the violent wrenching of the arm from its socket.

R. Adrian Percivala screamed.

Chapter 105: Opening the Black Box

"...that's awful. I'm so sorry."

Newspapers stacked on the floor. The two sat in the bunk, replika curled up and resting her head in the gestalt's lap.

Elster sighed. "Thanks."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ariane frowned, stroking her girlfriend's hair. "Even if it's only temporary...dying is..."

"Yeah, it wasn't...pleasant..." Elster nodded, shutting her eyes. "Even by the standards of dying."

"Don't go doing that again, okay?" Ariane said, leaning over and pouting. "Don't go...touching anti-bioresonance balls or whatever."

"I know," Elster groaned, burying her face in her hand. "The kids are going to lay into me too, when I get back."

"As they should," Ariane nodded, sitting back. She sighed, softening her tone. "They worry about you just as much as I do. They're trying to keep you safe."

"I'm trying to keep them safe," Elster huffed. "I can't...let that happen again. I have to finish the Blank."

Ariane smiled, stroking the replika's head again. "You'll figure it out. I know you will. You're an expert at this by now, right?"

"This one's on a whole other level, though," Elster said, shuffling on her side to bury her head further against the gestalt. "Like nothing I've ever done. Not even close. It just...doesn't want to accept implantation."

"...does it need to?" Ariane said, tilting her head to the side. "What if you just...put the brain in the body, and...you know...raise them normally?"

Elster sighed, looking across the officer's quarters. "We thought of that. Hell, the Nation thought of that, according to notes appended to the FDMR files." Another sigh. "It won't work."

"Why?" Ariane said, frowning. She looked up at the roof of her bunk. "...is it because you'll be trying to raise a 'full grown' baby?"

"That would be problem, yes," Elster nodded. "But it's more than that. That's something the Nation not only felt comfortable with, but actively tried before, with non-Blank DNA samples. The results are...less than ideal."

"How so?"

The replika held a hand up in front of her face. Studied the palm. Flexed her fingers. "Replika technology isn't just machines and code. It's...inherently bioresonant in mechanics."

"...really?" Ariane said, eyebrows rising. "I didn't know that."

"It's true," Elster nodded. Turned her hand over, moved fingers individually. "Insert a normal brain and organs in a replika body, stick diodes in their gray matter, and they might be able to work it. To see and speak and move. But...without bioresonance, it's always...muted. Distant. Numb. Sensation, control. According to experimental files, these things...just aren't there, without that spark of 'magic'."

"You have nerves and pressure points, though," Ariane said, hand moving to rub the replika's back. By pure muscle memory, she found one of those pressure points. Gently brushed it with her finger. Smiled, feeling the shiver in her lover's muscles. "You're saying a replika can't feel anything, without bioresonance?"

"...hoo...th-that's the trick," Elster breathed, shuddering. She reached up and took her lover's naughty hand. Kissed it. "Eusan's tech just...isn't nearly advanced enough. Not without bioresonance filling the gaps. It's like how our ships have artificial gravity. Ships from the Imperium don't use the same principles. They're all tech. Ours work because 'magic' bridges the divide between our reach and grasp."

"...oh..." Ariane said, frowning. She looked up, staring into space. Mind processing the news. "...so...what does it mean for the Blank?"

"It means any potential newborn FDMR can't interface with their body like a normal replika," Elster said. "Not without actual implantation, which forges a connection to the body on a fundamental level."

"The Nation knew this?" Ariane said.

"They experimented with it," Elster nodded. "They made Blank replikas, without implantation. The documents were vague, redacted. But by all indication, AEON found the results...undesirable."

Ariane shivered, scowling. "Poor babies," she breathed, touching a hand to her pale cheek. "Trapped inside their own bodies, unable to feel or control it properly. Crying out for mothers who...don't even love them..."

"..." Elster reached up and clasped the gestalt's hand. "It's okay..."

"..."

They sat in silence for a moment. Ariane rubbed her eyes, and squeezed her lover's hand.

"...how did the Nation figure it out?" Ariane said, finally. "You said they successfully made some..."

"That, I don't know," Elster said, shaking her head. Shut her eyes. "I've wracked my brain for months, trying to figure out AEON's solution. My best guess is the Great Revolutionary's Daughter just...overpowered the Null effect, somehow...it vexes me."

"...hmm..." Ariane huffed, thinking. Eyes locked on a patch of bedsheet next to her girlfriend's beautiful face. "...you're not bioresonant, right?"

"...I...wasn't," Elster said, carefully. Frowned. "Not in a way anyone would notice, I think. Almost everyone is bioresonant to some degree...except Blanks."

"You weren't?" Ariane said, inclining her head forward. "But...you are now?"

"A little bit, yeah," Elster nodded. "I had to use that helmet the Empire developed, to implant replikas at all. It boosted my natural bioresonance, letting me work with the neural patterns, as if I were a proper bioresonant adept."

"What did it feel like?" Ariane said, curiously. "Doing magic?"

"Really tiring, at first," Elster said, smiling softly. "Took a lot out of me. I passed out when I first tried implanting Circe, because her neural pattern fought me the whole way. But..." She breathed, inclining her head back. "...as I kept doing it, it became easier and easier. After a while, it stopped being a chore. Sometime after that...I started getting...a greater awareness, I guess? Of my surroundings. Of danger. And I think I started getting luckier."

"Is that bioresonance?" Ariane said, blinking. "Does it really work that way?"

"I've had talks with another bioresonant on my travels," Elster said, nodding. "A Space Marine Legionary by the name of Intef. We talked about bioresonance a lot. Apparently, its powers come in all shapes and sizes."

"Huh," Ariane said, looking up. Stared into space.

As she processed the implications, a gear turned in her head. A thought circling back around.

"...so...this helmet made you more bioresonant, right?" she said, stroking her lover's hair. "Put you over the edge, so you could do things?"

"Right."

"...so...what if..." Ariane said, tilting her head to the side, "...you...you know..." She looked down, and pointed at her head. "...put one of those helmets on the FDMR brain?"

Elster looked up at her girlfriend, quizzically. "..."

"S-so the brain, which has no bioresonance, will be ever-so-slightly bioresonant?" Ariane ventured, furrowing her brow uneasily. She smiled, rubbing the back of her head. "It sounds stupid, I know..."

Shuffle.

Ariane blushed, as her lover sat up, took her pale chin in her black hand, and kissed her. "...!"

Pulling away, spit and hot breath mingling, Elster smiled.

"I don't think that's stupid at all."

---

"You're an idiot, you know that!?"

Air circulation systems thrummed to life. Hooves shuffled on metal uneasily.

Replikas crowding Maintenance looked back and forth between the Mother of Machines and her red-haired daughter.

Elster, sat on a storage container before her calibration pod, stared remorsefully at the ground. "I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"You always say you're sorry!" Rose huffed, clenching her fists. "But you go ahead and do stupid shit like this anyway!"

"Rose, calm down," Vanessa said, holding out a hand.

"Yeah," Circe said, frowning. She looked to the Ara. "It's going to be-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Rose barked, turning to the Kolibri and Eule. "Mom fucking died right in front of me! Do you have any idea how awful that is!?"

"...I do..." Dash said, leaning against the wall. She looked at the floor soberly.

Elster grimaced in pain. She made to glance at the Star, but couldn't meet her eyes. "..."

"Rose, stop," Circe said, firmly. Narrowed her eyes. "That's enough."

"..." Rose clasped her mouth shut, looking away with flushed face.

"...if it makes you feel any better," Elster said, rubbing her hands together, "Ariane agrees with you. That...that was stupid of me."

"White Mom?" Vanessa said, frowning. Looked worried at their replika mother.

"How's she holding up?" Circe said.

"Better, I think," Elster sighed, rubbing fingers through her hair. "Although I don't know if she's just...putting on a comforting face for my sake."

She looked up and gave a warm smile. "She wishes she could meet you all."

"Aw!" Vanessa cooed, clapping hands over her heart. Eyes began to water.

"...she'd pick a bad time to get out," Rose muttered, folding her arms. Eyes downcast.

"True enough," Elster sighed. She bent forward and stood. "But if there's one good thing to come out of dying, it's that Ariane gave me a good idea. I think I know how to proceed with the FDMR."

"..."

The rest of the room gaped at their mother.

"You're still going to proceed with the implantation!?" Rose yelled.

"Mom, that is a bad idea," Circe said, holding her hands up. A bead of sweat broke out on her cheek.

"Yeah, mom," Dash said, brows furrowing in worry. "Shouldn't you maybe...rest a bit, at least?"

Vanessa's eyes darted around the room, her jaw set. Fingers coiling by habit around a long lock of straw-colored hair. She fought the urge to tug. "..."

"I'm not going to jump straight into it," Elster groaned, holding her hands up. "I need to tinker first. Do some testing..."

"No!" Rose yelled, stamping her hoof again. Fists raised, clenched. "As your primary physician, I forbid you to have anything to do with that...that THING!"

"Rose, I'll be fine," Elster said, frowning. "I know better now..."

"Yet you keep dying!" Rose roared. Face flushed, clenching her teeth. "From where I'm standing, you're-"

"ENOUGH."

A psychic wave thrummed, vibrating through the air.

Everyone looked down at the Kolibri, voices silenced.

Circe glared. Arms crossed. "No more fighting. No more yelling. What's done is done."

"But Circe-" Rose whined, frowning.

"Drop it!" Circe barked, piercing gaze directed to the Ara. She looked to Elster. "And we're going to discuss your plans thoroughly, before you dive right back into the project that just killed you. Okay, mom?"

Elster swallowed, then looked to the floor. "...yes. You're right. I'm sorry."

"Good...Rose," Circe said, glaring back to the Ara. "I can sense that anger. You're going to accept mom's apology."

Flinching, the Ara stopped internally grumbling about 'always sorry'. Rose crossed her arms and muttered, "...fine...okay..."

"Hug it out," Circe ordered, narrowing her eyes. "Both of you."

"Isn't this asking a bit much?" Dash muttered. She shut her mouth the moment she, too, came under Circe's glare. "...n-nevermind..."

"..." Reluctantly, Rose stepped forward.

Elster closed the gap, and spread her arms. Waited patiently, uneasily, for the Ara to reciprocate. "..."

Finally, the two hugged awkwardly. More fell into each other's arms.

"...I really am sorry, Rose," Elster whispered, patting the Ara's back. Felt the mechadendrites jutting from ports on her body. "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm...I'm sorry I act so reckless."

Huffing, Rose buried her face in her mother's chest. "...stupid..."

"I know," Elster said, patting the Ara's red head. "I told myself the same thing."

"...do...do you have..." Rose sobbed, clutching her mother closer, trembling, "...h-have any idea...what we would do...w-without you...?"

"I know, I know," Elster breathed, rocking her baby back and forth. As she felt her baby begin to cry, she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the girl's head. "Shh...shh...it's okay..."

Watching the two hug it out, the other three replikas sighed. Tension exiting their frames.

Vanessa, letting her hair loose, rubbed her aching fingers. Felt all the effort it took not to pull her hair out. She smiled at Dash and Circe.

"...so...what IS the plan, again?"

 

"You're sure this is going to work?"

One by one, mechadendrites dipped into amniotic fluid. Eyes traced wrinkles, until locating prescribed lobes. Suction cups pressed softly, carefully on delicate brain matter. Wires trailed from electrodes, snaking out of the fluid.

A hastily modified Eusan Empire implantation device sat on the table. Fed, not into a helmet, but to the brain itself.

"There's only one way to find out," Elster said, overseeing preparations. Every moment checking dials and screens hooked up to the new device. She sighed. "We've...never done this before."

Tulip crossed her arms, frowning. "..."

"A curious hypothesis, to be sure," Diodana said, metal finger tapping a side table. She groaned, rubbing her sole organic knee. "...the idea of...oohh...amplifying the brain itself. That's...certainly novel."

"Are you okay?" Elster said, looking to the tech adept. "Knee acting up again?"

"Verily," Diodana sighed, sitting back in her chair. "I've put it off far too long. I must be rid of this infernal joint, and embrace a greater melding with the blessed machine."

"I'll help you with surgery soon," Rose said, her mechandendrites attaching more electrodes. "Just as soon as I've ensured mom can do this, without killing herself. Again."

"Ooh..." Diodana groaned, nodding.

"...will it really work?" Tulip repeated, casting an uneasy glance at the brain.

"If it does," Elster said, inclining her head forward, "it will go a long way toward protecting us from the powers of the Warp."

"..."

Tulip looked at her mother, then down to the floor.

"...that would be nice."

 

Three. Times.

The improvised amplification device had to be upgraded three times. Not merely cranked as far as the Empire machine's tolerances allowed. Disassembled and rebuilt stronger.

On the plus side, they probably iterated on the technology to a greater degree in two weeks, than the Nomarch's original crew had in their tragically brief run.

Necessity, mother of invention. Or, as Elster muttered with increasing venom with each rebuild, the 'mother-fucker of invention'.

At least the Orb didn't hurt to look at anymore.

"...more power," Elster said aloud, focusing on the immaterial. "Another 20 percent. I think we've almost got it."

"Roger," Rose said, from across the gap of perception.

Space warped, or perhaps unwarped, around the sphere. Its dark depths shrank, like a pool draining of water. Arcs of black lightning, already intermittent at this stage, disappeared entirely.

The replika commander swallowed. She practically heard the sound of the orb solidifying. Hardening. Ossifying. Like stone settling in on itself.

Heavier than before, the sphere slowly sank onto an accommodating bed of mud.

"...that's good," Elster said, exhaling. "I think we've neutralized it."

"Do what you need to do," Rose said. "I don't know how long we can maintain these levels before the transistors burn out."

"Proceeding," Elster said, nodding on the material plane.

"Good luck."

Conjured pole reached out and tapped the sphere. It knocked audibly, like wood on slate. Holding the end of the pole up for inspection, Elster sighed, and cast it aside.

Stepping forward, the replika mused how...mundane it seemed, now. Her mind, clear for the first time in hours. Space didn't distort as she approached, and neither her psychic sense of danger nor her mind in general screamed.

"..." Elster stooped beside the sphere, hooves sloshing in the mud. Carefully, she raised a hand and, slowly, reached out. Braced herself.

Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.

"..."

Nothing. No pain. No shock. No enveloping dark that promised total obliteration.

Matte black stone, strangely warm to the touch. She brushed her fingers and palm across its rough surface.

For a brief second, she thought she felt a shiver beneath. An animal intelligence, never until now knowing psychic contact.

"..." Elster exhaled. "I'm touching the outside of the mind now. It feels safe."

"Oh, praise the Omnissiah..." Rose breathed.

Pressing an ear to the orb, Elster nudged it. Rolled it slightly. Heard a hollow sloshing sound.

So you ARE a container, she thought. Permitted herself a small smile. Now to get you open.

At first, she thought it would be difficult. But as she traced the surface of the stone, imagining a hatch or lid, she almost effortlessly discovered a seam. She was sure it hadn't been there before.

Charged with enough psychic polarity to visibly dim the Nomarch's interior lights from power expenditure, even a Blank brain could be rendered into one merely...Blunt.

Hardly easy to affect, undoubtedly. The effort of jamming a conjured crowbar in the seam and forcing it wide proved as much. But...doable. The Mother of Machines could work with this.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, putting her full weight down on the improvised lever. Under her breath, she began a cooing chant. "Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help. To give you...ngh...knowledge. Awareness...come on..."

Pop!

Pivoting on a hinge she imagined for it, the top third of the sphere popped off with a wet, sucking sound.

"Thank you," Elster breathed, lifting the lid with effort. It remained abominably heavy.

Peering inside, Elster studied pale, blind cave creatures that crawled in the damp interior. Deep, animal intelligence, adapted to a world untouched by light. Shallow water sat on a bed of soft sand.

"Brain is open," Elster said, taking up the silver pitcher. "Applying neural pattern."

"Hurry up, please," Rose said, nervously.

Wasting no time, Elster poured the contents of the pitcher inside. Watched glinting, silver scales appear on the surface, as tiny fish took residence in their new home. The last drops of fluid brought the waterline almost to the edge of the open sphere.

Next, the language modules, Elster thought, pulling them from the Nomarch's systems. Metallic worry-balls, exteriors etched by impossibly minute script. She tipped her hand, watching them sink to the bottom.Now the unit designation. A single pearl appeared in her palm. It tumbled down and 'plopped' into the drink. And then...

She cupped her hands. They filled with dark, silty water of Lethe.

"...I don't know much about her, but I know enough," Elster whispered to the water, before gently pouring it in. "Forget. You don't have to live with her pain, whatever it was. Be yourself. Be free."

Perhaps due to the Blunting still in effect, it took three doses of Lethe to completely cloud the sphere's interior. Even laid bare and exposed, the FDMR brain resisted tampering to the bitter end.

But cloud it did. Pale cave skippers and silver fish disappeared beneath a layer of silty gloom.

Finally..., the Mother of Machines thought.

Elster placed a hand on the lid of the sphere and smiled.

"Fledermaus implantation successful."

---

"Uncover her, if you would be so kind."

Rough hands whipped off the black bag. Glasses, come loose in transit, flopped onto a metal table. Blinding light.

"Ngh!" the gestalt winced, shaking her head. She hunched forward, arms aching. Wrists pulled against handcuffs bound behind her, snapped around the back of the metal folding chair. Her seat creaked under her weight. "..."

She heard her 'escorts' assume flanking positions behind her. They said nothing.

Rebecca Liang blinked, looking bleary-eyed forward. She furrowed her brow, teeth clenched. "..."

"Greetings, Doctor Liang," said the Astartes sat across from her. Voice precise, genteel. Muffled through helmet rebreather. "How good of you to join us."

"...stick it up your ass..." Rebecca growled, squinting. "Mutterlose hunde!"

One of the soldiers behind her cracked his knuckles. Took a step forward.

"No, no, it's quite alright," said the Legionary, red eye lenses turning to look over the biologist's shoulder. "That will not be necessary. Yet."

Rebecca heard the soldier step back. She sank back in her seat, heart racing. "...what did your men do to my people? To Adrian?"

"Technically, they're not my men," chuckled the Astartes.

"...aren't you a Son of Horus?" Rebecca said, squinting.

"Oh, certainly not." The blurry mass of ceramite steepled his fingers. "Gentlemen, return Ms. Liang's spectacles, will you?"

With a 'harumf', one of the soldiers stepped forward. Picked up Rebecca's glasses and placed them roughly on her head.

"Ngh..." Rebecca grunted, wincing at the glasses - one lens cracked - sat slightly askew on her ears. Too far forward on her nose. Without thinking, she pulled on her cuffs, trying to adjust it. Sighing, she tilted her head back to witness the marine in front of her. "..."

Even before getting back her glasses, she noticed the subtle difference in hue. The...odd surface texture of the transhuman's broad armor. With vision (mostly) returned, she saw the armor was not sea-green, but turquoise. Not smooth, but covered in decorative scales. The Legionary's helmet crested by a serpent, and the left pauldron adorned by a stylized symbol of a many-head hydra.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alpharius," lied Baroc Quoi. "Agent of the XXth Legion Alpha Legion, on loan to his eminence Captain Zod of the Sons of Horus 411th company. I will be your harrower for the interim."

"..." Rebecca furrowed her brows, questioningly. Alpharius? Alpha Legion?

"In answer to your earlier question," Quoi said, picking up a dataslate from the table before him and swiping several times, "I can assure you while your defenders, including the fascinating Percivala unit, are worse for wear, they are still alive." He turned the dataslate and held it up, so the gestalt could see. "For the moment."

"...!" Rebecca sucked breath, as the Astartes tapped the screen, cycling through a series of photos. Pict-captures of clans-men and -women in medical cells, bandaged and bound. Gestalt bodies bloodied and bruised. Irreparably crippled or maimed. Replika arms and legs shattered, left broken and useless.

Her heart sank when she saw R. Adrain Percivala, sat on a metal stool in a filthy cell. Wires dangled from the stump of a right shoulder, while their left hand hung, handcuffed to a pipe. Their teeth clenched around a cloth gag, their eye blindfolded, their ears clasped in headphones. The guardian replika's face frozen in an expression of pain.

"...what are you doing to them?" Rebecca growled. "To Adrian?"

"Alas, without recourse to a Blank, the replika psyker necessitated audio stimuli for safe containment," the Alpha Legionary said, setting his dataslate down. He looked away, shaking his head. The gestalt could almost hear the smile in his voice, as he muttered, "Mass produced psychics. The Loyalists were fools to let them go to waste..."

"Get them out of there!" Rebecca barked, sitting up angrily. "That's not necessary! You're hurting them!"

"Oh, we've already dispensed with those measures," Quoi said, waving a hand at the woman. He tapped his dataslate and displayed it again. "After all, the Percivala unit became significantly more cooperative...when we took these two into custody..."

"!!!" Rebecca's heart stopped. "N-no!"

A photo of two replikas, sat side by side in another dirty cell. Bound, bruised, bloodied. White lab coats torn, dusty, and stained. Guards at their backs, las-rifles at ready.

R. Ingrid Eule, sporting a black eye, tears running down her cheeks. R. Sebastian Mannsdotter, cheek swollen, short brown hair matted by oxident and sweat, eyes glaring at the camera.

Two of her students. Two who ought to have disappeared into the tunnels, with the others.

"...hah...hah...hah..." Rebecca panted, face contorted in pain. "Why?"

"To ensure compliance," Quoi said, setting the dataslate down. Privately smiled, seeing the woman look down at the vanished photos with anguish. "The two were brave, holding off pursuit efforts to ensure the escape of their companions. Foolish, but brave. I assure you, these pre-Age of Strife tunnels will be explored, the rest of their party found."

"W-why are you doing this?" Rebecca breathed, voice cracking. "Why not...just kill us? Isn't that what you want?"

Knock, knock.

"Oh, there they are," Quoi said, ignoring the gestalt woman's devastated pleas. Called over her head. "Bring him in."

Shunk.

Head turning on a swivel, Rebecca craned her neck to listen to the sound of boots. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the previous soldiers step aside, permitting another pair to drag a figure forward.

A figure in oxide red robes.

"Just set him down there, that will be fine," the Legionary said, gesturing to a spot on the floor near the wall, to Rebecca's left.

"Ah!" cried their burden, as the soldiers tossed him unceremoniously beside the biologist. Augmetic parts clanged against metal floor.

"...Gar?" Rebecca gasped, looking down at the tech priest. Eyes widened again. "A-are you okay!?"

"Oooh..."

Magos Biologus Ithrid Gar rolled himself painfully onto his side. Torn mechadendrites sparked, his pale, scratched brow furrowed over one cracked augmetic eye. His organic one opened, as he looked up weakly, rasping through a respirator that dominated the lower half of his face. "...ngh...Liang...I...ooh...apologize...I t-tried..."

"Ithrid..." Rebecca breathed, frowning. She glared at the Legionary. "What did you do to him!?"

"Captain Zod tasked me with employing my particular methods of...interrogation. The good Magos was our first lead," Quoi said, fingers tapping the table. "He supplied what data he personally kept readily enough, under 'normal' questioning. But became singularly uncooperative, once I intuited he was hiding something." He gestured to the woman. "Lo and behold, he was protecting you. Much as he did throughout the previous Governor's tenure, no doubt."

"Liang...hahh...I'm...sorry..." Gar wheezed, looking down at the floor in shame. "I...I tried...held out...as long...as I c-could..." He coughed, metal hand clutching his chest, feeling damaged systems in his sternum. "...have to...believe...me..."

Rebecca swallowed, cold sweat on her brow. "...don't apologize, Ithrid. You did your best..."

As a veteran, Rebecca knew full well the way of war. No Eusan trooper operated under the illusion that under captivity, they could resist interrogation. Oh certainly, AEON propaganda reels painted a valiant picture of heroes nobly enduring all manner of torture, until their inevitable rescue. Reality proved far less rosy.

It was not a matter of if, but WHEN, a soldier broke under pressure. When the stress, sleep deprivation, low calorie diet, and constant uncertainty eroded a person's will. Much less the caustic influence of pain.

Every soldier knew, sooner or later, each and every one of them would talk. There was no shame in breaking. Only in making it too easy. Loyalty to one's Nation and unit involved, instead, holding out as long as possible. To buy their comrades, officer corps, and logistics apparatus time to make what intel they divulged outdated. And, if possible, to concoct likely enough lies to throw their captors off the scent.

One will say anything to make the pain stop. One might as well poison the well in the process.

"...again..." Rebecca sighed, looking at the Astartes. Exhausted this time. "...what do you want from us?"

"Simple," Quoi said, tapping the table and staring at the woman through red eye lenses. "Captain Zod wants replika technology."

"..." Rebecca blinked. "...you...don't want to exterminate them?"

"Why would we want that?" the Legionary said, tilting his head to the side. "You'll find the Warmaster, and the True Mechanicum sworn to his banner, entertain none of the narrow-minded tech-fanaticism as the False Emperor and the tech priests who declare him Omnissiah." He sat up on his reinforced bench. "No. No, Horus and Captain Zod want results. Mass produced labor. Enough to bolster the Eusan system's industrial capacity, to meet the exigencies of this war."

Blink. "...oh."

The wheels in Rebecca Liang's head turned quickly.

"Now...I've indulged your questions altogether long enough. You will answer mine," Quoi said, studying his dataslate again. Eyes did not rise, as he spoke. "We have plentiful hostages, and the facilities and neural pattern archives from your base. You will divulge all information we require to reconstitute Eusan's replika production infrastructure. No matter how long the interrogations must last. Do not attempt to resist. Understood?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary."

Astartes, tech priest, and soldiers all looked at the woman.

"...explain?" Quoi said curtly, dataslate in his hands.

Rebecca sat up straight. Inhaled. Exhaled. Fixed her gaze resolutely.

"Interrogation won't be necessary. I wish to parlay."

Chapter 106: Die Fledermaus

"...Parlay?"

Behind his helmet, the turquoise-clad Astartes blinked. Then, set the dataslate down. "...go on."

"...ngh...Liang?" Magos Biologus Gar groaned, trying to sit up.

"Don't strain yourself, Ithrid," Rebecca Liang said, turning fractionally to the tech priest. "Save your strength. I'm trying to save us." She sighed, frowning. "And...I'm sorry. Sorry for what you endured. And...for what I'm about to do."

"..." Gar blinked, confused.

"...you wish to make a deal?" Baroc Quoi said, steepling his fingers. "I'm listening."

"..."

The gestalt woman blinked. Swallowed. No going back now. Make it count.

"...While it's certainly possible to reverse engineer replika technology using the materials and notes from our lab," Rebecca began, looking to the Legionary, "that will take time. No matter how diligent our methodology, much of what we've saved exists as undocumented institutional knowledge, carefully husbanded and rediscovered over the last several years. Even with me feeding you information, bringing replika creation and maintenance to an industrial level again will take time and energy."

She cocked her head to the side, and gave a small smile. "It'll be much easier, faster, and more productive if I simply run the whole show. No one knows the technology as well as I do, now that everyone else is dead."

Obviously, not remotely true. Even discounting the absent LSTR-512, who could be anywhere or even dead in the war, she knew of other replika enclaves supplied with the same knowledge and resources. If anything, the industrial enclaves on Rotfront, and the deep scavengers on Vineta, may have access to better tech, compared to Rebecca's desert team.

But Rebecca kept that information to herself. Both for their sake, and to improve her bargaining position.

Quoi whistled. "A bold claim. What if I say no?"

"Then you'll muddle through the process, and waste precious time," Rebecca shrugged. "If you want to tell this Captain Zod you wanted to do things the hard way, just to spite me, have at it. I'm sure the Warmaster will wait patiently for Eusan to get its shit together."

Ceramite clad fingers laced together. The Astartes sat back. "...fair point. Say for argument I agree. Your terms?"

Exhaling, Rebecca shuffled in her chair. "Before we can really start negotiations...," she said, inclining her head back over her shoulders, "...my bonds?"

The soldiers behind her shuffled audibly on the metal floor. She didn't need to look to know where they turned their eyes. "..."

"...make our 'guest' more comfortable," Quoi said, looking over her head.

One soldier took a position to Rebecca's right, and drew his pistol. "No funny business," he said firmly, gun leveled at her head. "Understand?"

"Yes," Rebecca nodded.

Another soldier knelt behind the woman and fiddled with her handcuffs. Left arm freed, while the right brought forward and secured to a metal loop on the table in front of her.

"Thank you," Rebecca grunted, stretching as best her new position permitted. Immediately adjusted her glasses.

"...Liang..." Gar whispered, rolling onto his back. "...ooh...are you...sure about this?"

"As scientists and people of conscience, we do what we must, Ithrid," Rebecca said, fishing a pack of cigarettes from her front pocket. Silently thanked whatever god - Machine God, Grand Empress, Founders - that it wasn't seized or lost in transit. Popped it in her mouth. "Anyone have a light?"

The Astartes studied the woman, as she rested her right arm on the table, sitting sideways facing the tech priest. Quoi looked to one of the soldiers. "In her right front pants pocket."

The soldiers shuffled sheepishly, realizing the potential danger of their error.

Rebecca raised her brows, and permitted the soldier to fish the lighter out. "...so that's where that was," she muttered. Silently wondering how the Legionary knew.

Click. Click. Fwoosh.

She puffed her cig alight by the proffered flame. Watched the soldier snap it shut and place it on the right side of the table. Out of easy reach for the prisoner. Removing the stick from her mouth, Rebecca exhaled smoke and leaned against her chair. Luxuriated in sweet, sweet nicotine. "...ahhh..."

The Astartes tapped a finger on his hand impatiently. "Satisfied? Shall we commence?"

Another drag. Another exhalation. Rebecca turned to the Legionary. "First, the safety of my companions - all of them, here or elsewhere - guaranteed. My students, defenders, clanspeople. Magos Gar, of course. After these negotiations are concluded, I will tend to their repairs." She added quickly. "Also, Gar needs medical attention by Mechanicum medics at once. In the meantime, a chair, if you'd be so kind."

"Of course," Quoi nodded. Glanced to a soldier, allowing that silent signal to convey all the orders needed.

The soldier saluted, and left the cell in search of a chair. The Magos sighed, reclining his bald, hooded head on the cold floor. Shut his eye.

"I will head replika productions entirely," Rebecca said, pointing to the Astartes with two fingers that clutched the cig. A thin trail of smoke rose toward the ceiling. "I answer only to Captain Zod himself, no one else. Not even the 'True Mechanicum'. Understood?"

"That can be arranged," Quoi nodded. Mind already turned to the matter of inter-departmental psychology. Liang, logically, harbored no love for Xerxes, whom Zod intended to return to power in the Kitezh orbital fane. Pitting the two against one another suited Quoi - and he was confident Zod - just fine. Internal rivalries kept treachery directed sideways, not up.

"My students will form the core of my staff," Rebecca said, waving her lit cigarette, as she rattled off terms. "Gar too, if he desires it."

If 'Doctor' Liang intended to sell out, she would at least reward the man who sacrificed everything to protect her.

"Anything else?" Quoi said, inclining his head back.

"..." The gestalt woman took another deep drag, looking at the middle distance. "I can think of more, yes. But..."

The Eusan biologist permitted herself a small smile.

Fuck it. Might as well be self-indulgent.

"...I'm told the galaxy has many alien species, or at least had. Did any escape the Imperium's purges? I'd love to study one..."

---

Wake up.

Fading afterimage of systems startup, as diodes bridged the gap between meat mind and electronic senses. A tumble in the gut, as gravity shifted. Legs took the weight, as body slid to upright position.

Mechanical doors swung open, venting steam.

"...ngh...huh?"

Stiff limbs jerked to life. A black hand rose, groping the sides of the upright metal coffin.

Artificial eyes cracked open. Stabbed instantly by blinding light for their trouble.

"Gah!" the newborn groaned, flashing sharp teeth in pain. Slapped a hand over her eyes. "...fach..."

Somewhere in the glare ahead, she heard the panicked clatter of hooves on metal.

"...!" the newborn froze, screwing her mouth shut. Sank back into the pod, eyes clasped shut. She had to hide. Had to...had to...

...why was she afraid? What did the newborn have to fear? Discovery?

"...h-hallo...?" she said hesitantly, into the unseen space beyond. She tried opening her eyes again, and winced at the light. Eyes too sensitive by half. "...wh-who's there?"

Out of impulse, she tipped her head forward. Hand swept long, brown bangs over her eyes. She groped at the sides of the pod, tentatively cracking her eyes open while looking down. The strange habit seemed to pay off, hair cutting down on the glare. She blinked, trying to banish the spots from her vision.

"Wh-where am...I...?" the newborn said, attempting to take a step forward. "...eh?"

Blinking, she saw her short leg hang in the air. Studied, in puzzlement, the stump at the end.

No, not stump. Hoof. Hoof with...three hollow slits at the end. The newborn instinctively tried to wiggle her 'toes', and felt some mechanisms within those slits react. But nothing came out.

"...what the...?" the newborn whispered, carefully tapping the ground with her hoof. Hands clasped on the sides of the pod, she slowly shifted weight onto the hoof, then swung the other out. Saw it was identical. "..."

Out in the room, a voice took a startled breath. Pulled something from a belt. "...!"

"H-hey, wait," said the newborn, swaying on her hooves as she tried to stand. She looked up, using a hand to shield her eyes from overhead lights. Blinked, stared through the curtain of hair. "Who's that? What's going o-"

"S-stay back!"

The newborn blinked. Froze. Eyes widened. "...!"

A taller replika stood across the room from the pod. Chest colored red. A scar between her eyes. A tool belt around her waist, with an empty holster.

"...stay...back..." Elster said, trembling. Winced in pain, eyes dilated. Sweat poured down her face.

She pointed a strange pistol at the newborn.

 

"The fuck is she doing?"

Security monitors bathed confused faces in electric glow. As they hunched forward, eyes locked on one screen in particular, their confusion turned into alarm.

Their mother just pulled a fucking gun on her newest daughter.

"...shit!" Rose grunted, gritting her teeth. "Mom's..."

"Wh-what do we do?" Maria said, clapping a hand over her mouth. Eyes unable to leave the screen. "Rose?"

The Ara swept under her lab coat, groping for her tool belt. "C-call someone," Rose said, fumbling with her radio. "Anyone!"

As Maria looked sideways to the Ara, then to the screen, she gulped. "R-right!" she cried, fumbling with the security microphone in front of her.

Rose thumbed the radio to life. "Mom, come in!" she said, hands shaking. "Don't you fucking kill that 'Maus...!"

 

"...we worked way too fucking hard on it! Mom? Answer me!"

She made a mistake. She made a horrible, terrible mistake.

Elster gripped her laspistol with trembling hands. Jaw set, heart racing, she stared at the...thing she created.

No, that she inflicted on reality.

A buzzing in her head. A throb. A voice in the back of her mind, holding her chest in a vise. Not the danger-sense her low-grade bioresonance gave, to protect her from harm. That was conspicuously absent. But a far more primordial feeling. A trauma response, freshly born.

It brought her back to that terrible moment. That dark sun. That...yawning abyss, that threatened to unmake her.

Weapon in her hand before she even realized. Hyper-tuned trauma response inherited from Lilith.

"S-stay...back..." Elster growled, face pale and slick with sweat. Gritted her teeth. "I m-mean it..."

The Fledermaus stumbled back, hands grasping the sides of the pod. "W-wait a minute!" she gasped, weakly. Unsure even how to raise her voice. "D-don't...I'm not..."

"Shut up!" Elster barked, adrenaline saturating her veins. She jabbed her laspistol forward for emphasis. "Don't move! I-I'm...w-warning you!"

The newborn's eyes - covered by long bangs that tickled her cheeks - darted around the room. Trembling, she tried stepping sideways. "...ngh..."

"I said stop!" Elster roared, heart skipping a beat. Without thinking, her finger squeezed the trigger.

Zap!

"AAGH!" the 'Maus screeched, making to bolt to her right. If her mastery of her hooves was better, the leading shot might have struck her stone dead. Instead, she stumbled, watching in alarm as the las bolt sailed past her. It singed the replika workshop wall, leaving a glowing spot on the metal.

"No-no-no-NAH!" she cried, pulling herself back the other direction. Stumbled, lost purchase of the pod. Fell to the ground. "Agh!"

Fight or flight response firmly in effect, Elster's trembling hands tried to find their mark once again.

Zap!

Had her bioresonance remained unsuppressed, it might have fudged luck in her favor. As it stood, Elster of late allowed the crutch of bioresonance to compensate for infrequent practice at the firing range.

"Argh!" the newborn yelped, throwing hands over her head as the las bolt went wide, hitting the metal floor.

"Mom! Stop!" roared the radio at Elster's hip.

Elster furrowed her brow, panting. Gun still trained on the panicking target, the replika commander permitted herself a brief glance down at the radio on her belt. "..."

Suddenly, overhead speakers thrummed to life.

"Anyone near the replika workshop, get in there!" Maria cried, voice trembling. "Mom's trying to kill the FDMR! Schnell!"

"..." Elster sucked breath. Looked over at the thing.

The newborn, hyperventilating, crawled under a nearby workbench. Hooves scraped on metal grates. Sweat poured down her face, matting brown hair. She threw up a hand. "S-stop!" The 'Maus yelled. "H-help me! Someone!"

Gritted teeth. Furrowed brow. Elster stalked forward, despite the growing whine in her head. "..."

"No!" the newborn cried, hastily crawling up from under the table. Tried to skirt around the approaching woman. "S-stay away!"

There was no time. There was nothing for it.

"Ngh!" the newborn whined, trying to stagger to her hooves and run. All she managed was an inelegant flop, banging her knee on the floor in the process. "Agh! Ow!"

Her children didn't understand. They all felt it before. But...seeing it in motion. Living, breathing, babbling. That was different.

It was...obscene. A thing out of the Uncanny Valley itself. The hungry void wearing the skin of a replika.

"..." Elster swallowed, stomping across the metal. Laspistol leveled.

"P-please...haah...please..!" the 'Maus cried, baring fangs in fear and pain. Frantic eyes peeked through her bangs, as the woman's shadow crawled over her. "...I didn't..."

It was a danger to all of them. To their very souls.

"..." Elster stood over the prone figure, glaring. Weapon aimed down.

She made a mistake. A mistake she had to correct. It had to be destroyed.

"NOOO!" screamed the newborn, throwing her hands over her head and looking away. "DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE!"

"!!!"

Elster froze, eyes widened. Her heart stopped. "...hgh!"

The newborn started to cry.

"...hgh...!" the girl sobbed, curling up in a ball. "P-please...I'm sorry! I'll be good!" She gasped, tears rolling down her face. "I'll be good! I promise!"

The laspistol slipped from Elster's hand. Clattered to the floor.

"Agh!" the newborn yelped, one eye popping open to look at the weapon on the ground. She tried to drag herself away, then buried her face in her hands. "Nghhh! Haaah!"

"...n-no!" Elster gasped, sinking to her knees.

What have I done, what have I done, what have I done? Hand over her mouth, Elster's thoughts raced. Heart breaking with horror. I was going to...to...

"...no...d-don't cry..." Elster gasped, reaching a hand out tentatively. Stopped midair, over the girl's trembling form. It recoiled, polyethylene skin crawling with the thought of touching...

"...haah...agh..." the girl bawled, tears and mucus rolling down her face.

"Don't cry," Elster said, softly. She forced herself forward, sitting beside the newborn. To her daughter. "I'm sorry! Mommy is sorry! She won't...she won't do that again! I promise!"

"...?" The newborn, shivering, peeked around her arms. Looked up at the woman who, just seconds before, opened fire on her. "...haah...hah..."

"Mommy did a bad thing," Elster choked, her eyes watering. Hands trembling in the air in front of her. Sucked a gasping breath. "I made a mistake. I shouldn't have...I...I'm so sorry, baby..."

The newborn flinched, as a hand touched her shoulder. Felt the hand recoil at the touch, just as much as she did. When the woman forced herself to touch the girl again, the 'Maus shut her eyes. Sobbed. "...nngh..."

"...sorry...I'm sorry...haaah...please....forgive me..."

Despite the stabbing pain, Magpie held Bat. Rocked the girl in her arms, until the tears stopped.

 

"The hell, mom?"

Fingers turned a knob, plunging the lounge in near darkness. One by one, replikas rose from their seats and vacated. Eyes turned with apprehension and disgust at the couch facing the wide window.

A blanket draped over the exhausted, confused newborn, as she turned her head to watch everyone leave. She blinked, drinking in their dirty looks. "..."

Elster frowned, watching them, then turned. Crossed her arms. "...sorry, I...I lost my head."

"You nearly lost weeks of work, is what you did," Rose growled, fists clenched. "Months, actually, if we're counting the brain."

Daisy, peeking out from behind her younger sister, clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Enough. Let's...just give them time, okay?"

"..." Rose glanced over her shoulder, then sighed. "...no more taking guns with you to awakenings, okay mom? That could have been..."

"...I know," Elster said softly, deflating. Eyes dropping to the floor.

Putting on an uneasy smile, Vanessa set a mug of tea and biscuits on the end table beside the couch. "H-have whatever you like, okay?" she said, skin crawling. "The tea is hot, so don't burn yourself, okay? Add as much sugar as you want."

"...okay..." the 'Maus croaked, voice barely above a whisper. She hunched over, eyes darting between the Eule and the refreshments. "...th-thank you..."

Vanessa, swallowing, flashed a more genuine smile, then backed away quicker than she meant to. Tapped her mother's elbow as she passed. "All yours," she whispered.

"Thanks, Van," Elster nodded, watching the Eule slip through the door. "And thank you, Rose. I...I wouldn't..."

"Just...take care of her, okay?" Rose said, crossing her arms. She forced a smile. "You wanted a Blank. Now, she's your responsibility."

Elster nodded. "..."

Aras departed, the Mother of Machines walked over to the back of the couch. Eyes trained on the hunched figure. The one that radiated, to Elster, a baleful aura.

The figure of haunting, annihilating power. Functionally, an adolescent girl, hunched and huddled under a wool blanket for protection.

"..." Elster sighed. Walked around the couch. She intended to sit down on the opposite end. Yet, her body rebelled against getting so close. Her palms still tingled, numb from touching the girl before.

The 'Maus turned her head. Beneath the dim lights and blanket, her already hidden eyes flooded by pools of shadow. "..."

Looking between 'Maus and seat, Elster frowned. Sighing, she walked back, and dragged a padded armchair over. Sat down perpendicular to the couch. "..."

The newborn frowned, hugging legs to her chest. "..."

The two stared out at the colossal bulk of the Duarch, its eggshell white hull threaded with exterior scaffolds hastily constructed from salvaged debris. Its mountainous size loomed against a backdrop of other wrecks, and an infinite sea of stars.

Casting eyes down at her curiously slotted hooves, the Fledermaus frowned. "...did...did I do something wrong?"

"No," Elster said, firmly. She forced a smile. "You did nothing wrong. You are new. Blameless."

"Then why do you all hate me?" The newborn's voice assumed a gravely texture, as if finally settling into some distant, buried memory of how to speak. An act, she realized, she wasn't accustomed to. "Why do you all look at me...like that?"

"We don't..." Elster closed her mouth.

Did she hate the Fledermaus? Elster could say she feared her, like an old soldier feared unexploded ordinance left to rot in a field.

Hate? The replika commander couldn't say.

"..." The 'Maus, glancing at her mother, curled herself closer into a ball. Eyes on the floor. "...do I...hurt you?"

Elster inhaled. Exhaled. "...yes."

She added quickly. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I...I made you this way."

"What...am I?" the newborn breathed, voice cracking. She looked down at her hands - uncanny fascimiles of hands she had distant memory of - then toward her progenitor. "What makes me different from you? From them? What am I? Really?"

"...you...are a replika," Elster said, inclining her head forward fractionally. "Just like the rest of us. You're an artificial human, fashioned in the physical and psychological likeness of a deceased human gestalt."

"...replika?" the 'Maus muttered, turning her hand over to study it. "Gestalt?"

"Gestalts are born, through strictly biological, evolved means," Elster said, allowing the well-worn lecture distract her from the buzzing in her head. "They're born, live, and die. Sometimes, especially where we come from, a gestalt's Neural Pattern is harvested, to be implanted into replikas, whose bodies are built and tissues grown in labs."

"...neural pattern?" the newborn muttered, frowning. She scratched her head, brows furrowed. "What's that? You're...using big, hard words."

"I'm sorry," Elster chuckled, cracking a small smile. "It means a snapshot is taken of the gestalt's mind, as they are upon death. Their thoughts, feelings, memories, skills, hopes, and dreams. Everything they were, collected in a lump sum. Our makers - and now we - grafted these patterns onto freshly grown brains, so a replika can walk out of the calibration pod knowing how to walk and talk and...well, work." Her smile faded. "Our old government used us as labor. Now...well, we outlived them."

"...oh..." The 'Maus frowned, thinking. Hands rested on her knees. "...why...don't I remember anything?"

"Remembering is hard," Elster said, almost by rote. "Remembering a life that's not your own is harder. Especially when it ended in death. Our Nation, of course, suppressed our gestalt memories to make us easier to use. Less rebellious, more predictable. We keep doing it, because...it would be traumatizing, to wake up remembering a life not your own."

"...who was my gestalt?" the 'Maus said, head turned fractionally to the Mother of Machines. "This...person I got my head-meats from?"

Elster cracked a smile, then sighed. Looked down at her hands. Retreated inward, studying the files in her digital interface. "A lot about your neural pattern was redacted. Blacked out, erased. The Nation didn't particularly like leaving records of gestalt 'donors'." She weaved her fingers together. "What I can say is...she was found, one day, living in a belfry."

"What's a...bell-free?"

"It's an enclosure...a closed room, I mean, usually on top of a tower," Elster said, consciously choosing simpler words. She briefly considered whether the language models didn't take properly. Or if, as seemed to be the case, the gestalt wasn't that educated to begin with, so accessing more complex words didn't come naturally to her copy. Hopefully, that would sort itself out, in time. "Belfries are where bells are stored, often in places of worship."

"Oh!" the newborn said, head rising fractionally. She stared into space, thinking. Her fingers rose, tracing a vague blob in the air, then a hexagon. "...big bells? What have weird...six-pointed shapes on 'em?"

"Ha...yes. You may be remembering a church dedicated to the Grand Empress," Elster said, chuckling. "Lots of replikas remember bits and pieces from their gestalts' lives."

"..." the 'Maus glanced at her mother, then looked down. "...replikas were made to do a job. What was I made to do?" She cast another glance. "Why...my gestalt? Why'd they take me? Er, her?"

Elster sighed. Wrung her hands together. "...in this universe, there exists a force. Other places call it Magic, Witchcraft, and Psychics. In Eusan, where we come from, we called it 'Bioresonance'. It's as powerful as it is...mysterious."

"Magic?" said the 'Maus, unseen brows rising.

"Magic, yes," Elster nodded. "Most humans have little to no visible Bioresonant power, though some...like me...can nudge luck in their favor or see things beyond normal senses. Rarer individuals can wield greater powers. The ability to summon fire, read minds, glimpse the future, lift objects without touching them...even tear holes in the fabric of reality itself."

"..." The newborn smiled, flashing her sharp teeth and elongated fangs. "Cool."

"Very cool," Elster smiled, almost forgetting the voice in her mind telling her to run away. Almost. "Bioresonant power is rooted in another dimension, parallel to our own. We call it many things. The Immaterium. The Astral Realm. The Warp. A place of thought and feeling, that obeys its own rules. Most people only use that dimension when they need to cross the stars. Individuals with tangible bioresonance tap into it as a source of power. An ocean of energy, a Sea of Souls."

Head swimming with possibility, the 'Maus cast a glance out at the vast field of debris beyond the window. "..."

Elster's smile faded. "...not...everyone has this same connection to the Warp, though," she said, carefully. "For some, their connection is even weaker than most. Those who know such things uncharitably call them 'Blunt'."

The newborn looked at her mother, then deflated. Shoulders sagged, as the implication of 'you are NOT a wizard, FDMR-01' hit her like a brick. "...I'm...not a 'Blunt', am I?"

"...no," Elster said, softly. She hunched in her chair, frowning. "You, like your gestalt before you, are one step further beyond a Blunt. You're a 'Blank'. A person with seemingly no connection to the Warp at all. You are an Anti-Bioresonant."

"..." The 'Maus blinked. Frowned. Then buried her face in her knees. "...oh."

"I'm sorry," Elster sighed, sitting back.

"I'm a freak," the newborn groaned, voice muffled. She hugged her legs closer.

"...you're...not a freak," Elster said, though she knew immediately her words both rang false and weren't of comfort in any case. "...you're just...different. Special."

"'Special' just means 'freak'," the 'Maus huffed, face turning red.

"Don't. Don't say that." Elster said, firmly. "There are no shortage of people here who are 'special', just in different ways. Those Aras you saw earlier, with the red robes? They're all neurodivergant. Their minds work differently than most people. I don't want you insisting they, or you, are somehow lesser because you're different. Understand?"

The 'Maus peeked up, brows furrowed uneasily. She shrank deeper into the couch, wary of the mother who, only minutes before, attempted to murder her. "...o-okay..."

"..." Elster frowned, regretting her stern demeanor. "I'm sorry. It's...that's just how it is."

"...what makes me an Anti-biorez...bioreso...Anti-Magic?" the 'Maus said, tongue tripping over the complicated word and her own sharp front teeth. "Bleh."

"It means you not only can't use Warp power, you actively disable it in your presence," Elster said, sitting up. "You radiate a bubble of extreme normality, where 'Magic' has difficulty even existing." She frowned, inclining her head forward. "This...is unpleasant for most humans, gestalt or replika, because it disrupts their subconscious connection to the Warp. Makes them uncomfortable. For those with manifest psychic power, the feeling is...even stronger. It hurts, to be near." Elster clutched a hand to her chest. "That...is why they look at you like that. It's why...I..."

"...oh..." the 'Maus sobbed, crestfallen. "..."

"It's not your fault," Elster repeated, firmly. "It's mine. I insisted on making you this way. You are...my responsibility."

She pushed down the part of her that wanted to say 'my mistake'.

"Why?" the newborn sobbed, mouth screwing up with pain. "Why make me, if you hate me? If I hurt you?"

"I don't..."

Elster swallowed the lie in her throat. Forced it down. Willed it not to be true. No matter how much her instincts railed against the Null in her midst, she insisted on not letting herself hate the girl.

"...I made you, because we need you," Elster said, finally.

Sniffing, the newborn poked her head back up. "..."

"...a Blank has difficulty, connecting with non-Blanks. That's the truth. But while they can never wield bioresonance, they can shut it off." Elster laced her fingers together. "You are a natural bulwark against the powers of hostile bioresonance. As well as...to the things that live in the Warp."

Rubbing her eye, the 'Maus sniffed. "...things?"

"Wild things. Evil things." Elster furrowed her brow. "Things that have haunted humanity's dreams since we crawled from the mud. Things that...wish us harm. Things that can scarcely be reasoned with, and never trusted. Things that, when let loose, bring ruin and madness wherever they go."

"...what are they?" the newborn breathed, sitting up. "These things?"

"They're daemons," Elster said, severely. Cast a glance toward the door. "About a month or so ago, they stalked these very halls. They hurt my children, your cousins." She narrowed her eyes. "I won't let that happen again. I can't."

The newborn opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked away. "...oh. Okay."

Elster frowned. Expression softened. "I don't want you to think your life only has meaning as a...a talisman against the darkness. I want you to live your best life, for your own sake. That's what I want for all my children."

"..." The 'Maus's eyes followed a shuttle as it crossed the expanse between ships. "...what happens now?"

"...we muddle through, as best we can," Elster said. She smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"..." The girl looked over at her mother, then looked to the table beside her. Hand reached out and plucked a biscuit from a plate. Inspected it. Shrugging, she took a big bite. Began to chew.

She felt a sharp pain in her mouth. "OW!"

"Are you okay?" Elster said, rising to her hooves. She furrowed her brow. Despite herself, she smiled. "Bite your tongue?"

"Mmhmm! Mnngh!" the newborn nodded, hands clapped over her mouth. She stuck her tongue out, half-chewed bits of biscuit on full display. A tiny sliver of oxidizing fluid welled up on its surface, soaking bread scarlet. "Ih 'urth!" She swallowed, shaking her head. Tasted her artificial blood. "Bleh! Wh' mah thth 'o shrp!?"

Elster stifled a chuckle. "I'm sorry. I...built you according to the Nation's specifications. I should have considered not giving you the special dental enhancements."

"Mmrgh..." the newborn groaned, wincing in pain. She looked at the table again, and picked up the mug. Tentatively sipped. It was still hot, but now cool enough to drink. The 'Maus drank, then smacked her lips in distaste. "...ngh...bitter...bleh..."

"Try the sugar, maybe?" Elster said, inclining her head forward fractionally.

Without a word, the girl took a fistful of sugar cubes from the bowl and dropped them in the cup. "Hmmp!"

She couldn't help herself. Elster laughed.

"..." Glancing up from the steaming mug, the newborn cracked a smile. Heartened by a genuine display of happiness at her presence.

"...so..." the Fledermaus said, "...what else can this body do, beside bite and shut down magic?"

Elster covered her mouth and nodded.

"...I'll tell you all about it."

Notes:

At time of writing, next week is going to be busy for me. So updates will pause while I attend to things, and catch up on my backlog.

Chapter 107: Comrade Bat

"...you didn't need to do that."

Fingers and tools poked and prodded aggrieved cybernetics. Eyes downcast, focused. Tobacco smoke wafted to the air.

Two figures - gestalt and replika - sat silhouetted against the red planet, and the infinite sea of stars arcing over it.

"They're right, you know," said R. Sebastian Mannsdotter, glowering from his spot by the wall. One hand pressed an icepack against his bruised cheek, the other rubbed the Eule's shoulder as she stared at the soldiers posted by the door. The replika man frowned. "How could you do that? Just...sell out?"

Pulling the cigarette from her teeth, Rebecca Liang turned her head and exhaled away from her patient. "Seb...don't be stubborn. We both know they had us all dead to rights."

"You can't just...I..." Sebastian sputtered, staring down at the floor. "..."

"If it was for me, I apologize," said R. Adrian Percivala, face downcast and contorted in pain. They clapped their remaining arm to their forehead and shut their eyes. "I couldn't..."

"None of that, thank you," Rebecca said, patting the paladin on the head gently. Took another drag from her cig, let it loose. "None of us survive, unless we're willing to make sacrifices."

"...is Mister Gar going to be okay?" mumbled R. Ingrid Eule, clutching the Mansdotter's stained white coat. She frowned, black eye wincing. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

"He's getting medical attention as we speak," Rebecca nodded. Looked over her shoulder and gave a thin smile. "They consider the Magos Biologus too valuable, as an adjunct to us, to simply kill."

"What about the others?" Sebastian said, pressing his icepack harder into his face. "What if they find them? Catch them, ki-"

"As I said," Rebecca said, firmly, "now that they have us - especially me - they have no more reason to waste time and resources tracking down the others. If they had that in abundance, they wouldn't consider using replikas."

"...how can you be so sure?" Adrian mumbled, single eye turning to look over at the biologist. "What if this is all a trap? How...how can we trust these heretics?"

Rebecca shrugged, removing a loose wire from the Percivala's ruined shoulder. "I can't, it might be, and..." She glanced at the ceiling of the workroom. "...we can trust these people will be ruthlessly pragmatic. All they care about is their little war. That's why they agreed to my terms so readily. They want this distraction concluded expeditiously, so they can return to killing their enemies."

"Was it really right, though?" Adrian said, frowning. "To give up so easily? With what the Magos endured, after helping us all these years?"

"...Adrian, understand," Rebecca sighed, removing her cigarette. "You hold out on your captors because you aim to buy your comrades time. In this case, our captors hoped to speed up my acquiescence by getting more hostages. Or...to get the others to cave, using US as hostages." She tapped ash into a bit of plastic food packaging, an impromptu ashtray. "Sometimes, you protect your comrades by making them no longer worth pursuing. An oak that remains rigid shatters in the storm. A sapling, willing to bend, survives it."

Behind her, Sebastian and Ingrid hugged one another, eyes locked on their teacher.

"I...I don't know if I can do that..." Adrian whispered, voice cracking. Cast their head down, taking a gasping breath. "M-my oath..."

"Was to the Grand Empress, and the royal household," Rebecca said, patting the replika's shoulder. "The Empire and Nation are gone. Only its people survive. They do so by making hard choices." She sat up, taking another drag. "Hooo...as a soldier, I learned an important lesson. War doesn't care how little you like your options. Neither do officers. All you can do is fall in line. Keep your head down in the trenches, and keep marching on the road."

"So...we're just...giving in?" Sebastian said, frowning. Eyes glassing over. "Just like that?"

"..." Rebecca cast a sidelong glance to the door. To the soldiers standing guard, their faces obscured by Auxillia helmets.

Obviously, she couldn't voice what she really thought. Not in front of witnesses. Perhaps, not even while they were alone. She couldn't trust their quarters weren't bugged.

Deep inside, Rebecca seethed. Her mind already plotted the long march ahead.

A deserter waits until their superiors turn their backs. As does the turncoat, the spy, the war profiteer...and the saboteur.

"...we endure...until we find our angle."

---

Shing.

The mess hall fell silent. All eyes turned to the door.

"..."

The Fledermaus slumped forward, hands in the pockets of her baggy jumpsuit. Cast glances around the room. Shuffled forward awkwardly.

Replikas stared as she passed. Faces alight with a mixture of fear, animosity, discomfort, even disgust. When the 'Maus drew perilously near a table, the occupants shuffled down the bench to give space.

"..." The newborn cast a glance to them, then quickly moved to the window adjoining the mess hall to the kitchen.

"...h-hey..." Meryl whispered, swallowing. She stood up straight, adjusting the net around her blue hair. Eyes averted, sweat on her brow. "...wh-what do you need?"

"...m-mom said I could get food here," 01 said, voice low, gravely. Cast uneasy glances over her shoulder. Fists balled in her pockets. "Uh...one....f-food, please?"

"O-...okay...what kind of food?" Meryl said, furrowing her brow. Failed to fully keep a note of annoyance from her voice. "Any preference?"

The 'Maus glanced at a sign by the window, displaying today's menu. Magnetic letters arranged into white lines across a black background. "...uh...something...sweet, maybe?"

"I'll...see what I can do about dessert," Meryl sighed, scratching her cheek. "Maybe some soup, to go with it?"

"...th-that's fine...I guess..." the 'Maus said, casting embarrassed glances over her shoulder again.

The assembled replikas hadn't taken their eyes off the newborn. Somewhere in the back, members whispered conspiratorially.

"..."

A minute stretched out into a virtual eternity, before the Eule returned with a tray. A bowl sat on it, flanked by a plate carrying a lump of cornbread, a cup of water, and a sealed ration bar labeled 'Fig'.

"H-here you go..." Meryl said, handing it off. She forced a smile. "E-enjoy...?"

"Th-thank you..." 01 mumbled, nodding. She took the tray and promptly turned.

"...h-hey, don't you want a spoon and napkin?" Meryl called, as the newborn trudged away.

"...'m fine..." the 'Maus mumbled, too softly to be heard over the clatter of her hooves on the floor. Hunched over, she endured the stares of replikas as she exited the cafeteria.

Against one wall, Artemis sneered. "..."

 

"...it's not...h-here, is it?"

The replika commander crossed her arms. "What is? Or...do you mean who?"

Many eyes darted furtively around, checking both doors. "Y-you know...the thing?" Mik'hul mumbled, many mouths contorted fitfully. "Your...'science project'...?"

"The FMDR?" Elster said, tilting her head to the side. "She's a person, you know."

"Whatever, is she here or not?" Mik'hul blurted out, breathing shallow and quick. "She's not allowed in here, you know? I expressly forbid it, okay boss? It's not okay for a...a-a-a B-Blank to...can't have me dying and venting radiation everywhere, right?"

"..." Elster narrowed her eyes. Gears turned in her head. "...you really can't sense her, can you? Not unless she's right on top of you. You're blind to her, right?"

"Whaaaat? Noooo!" Mik'hul cried, putting on fake smiles. "I-I know exactly...where..." The daemon swallowed. "I just gotta keep you on your toes, boss. I...uh..."

"She isn't here," Elster said. Then smiled. "I'll keep this bit of information in mind. How'd you find out about the FDMR, anyway?"

"E-everyone's thinking about her, ever since you...inflicted it on us," Mik'hul grumbled. "When were you gonna tell me, boss? I have a right to know if a daemon-killing creature is on the loose."

"I see," Elster nodded. "Well, I've informed 01 that she's not to bother you...unless I tell her to."

Color-shifting skin blanched. "...n-noted...." Mik'hul squeaked, vibrating in the wall.

"Good. Now then." Elster tapped the waist-high pillar set in the middle of the room idly. Raised her hands to her ears. "Call up Vashtorr."

"R-right, okay..." Mik'hul grunted, exhaling sharply. "One moment."

Infernal machine language filled the air for a solid minute, before one of Mik'hul's maws opened up to reveal a three-ringed effigy.

Elster removed hands from her ears, and bowed. "Dark Artificer," she said. "I take it you're also aware of my latest creation."

"..." The furnace-holes flared, the daemon demi-god pondering. "...I experience a quandary, LSTR Five One Two. An unaccustomed state."

"How so?" Elster said, a smile on her face. "Have I displeased you?"

"One pole of this emotional axis, verily," Vashtorr rumbled. "The manufacture of a functioning Pariah-form offends me, on principle. Low probability of success alone prevented me forbidding it from the outset."

"And the other pole?" Elster said, inclining her head forward with a frown.

"...intellectually dishonest would it be, to deny...admiration for your accomplishment, my servant," Vashtorr said, with hesitation. "Ingenuity and brazen disregard for ethics, my displeasure, and even your own survival yielded success. Beyond even the accomplishments of your bygone Nation and its Founder, who only created a handful of FDMR units by dint of pure, agonizing effort and manifold sacrifice."

The flames flared, as the master of the Soul Forges became overwhelmed with...pride? "Scarcely containable is my relish for your industriousness, LSTR Five One Two. Matched only by distaste at its obscene product. A singular paradox, mitigated solely by your novel weapon's utility. Put it to productive use, my servant."

"Thank you, Dark Artificer," Elster said, bowing at the waist.

She, too, remained of two minds. On the one hand, the daemon's admiration was revolting. On the other hand, that the paradox between love of unrestrained innovation, and loathing of a Blank, gave him pause...delighted the replika.

Elster smiled privately to herself.

Small victories.

 

"-didn't do anything!"

"Shut up!"

Body slumped, shoulder pinned against the wall by a hoof. A thin trail of oxidizing fluid ran down a bruised cheek. Dark eyes glared up from behind a curtain of bangs.

A glare returned by the Storch, flanked by equally angry Eules.

"Are you okay?" said a Eule, patting her sister on the shoulder.

"G-get away..." Maria gasped, backing up against the opposite wall. Eyes locked on the prone newborn, hand pressed to head wracked by buzzing pain. "Get her away from me!"

"The fuck did you do?" Artemis growled, grinding her hoof into the Fledermaus's body.

"Ngh!" the 'Maus grunted, wincing. Barred her fangs. "I t-told you, I didn't do anything! We just...bumped into one another! It was an acci-"

"And I told you to shut up!" Artemis barked, clenching her fist.

Summoned by the commotion, more replikas crowded the corridor. They looked apprehensively at the scene.

"...get away...can't stay here..." Maria gasped, clutching her head. She tore herself from the arms of her younger sister, and bolted. Pushed through a line of people in her mad dash.

"Maria, wait!" cried the younger Eule.

"Fucking freak," Artemis growled, glancing at the retreating Eule. She reached down and seized the FDMR by the scruff of her jumpsuit. "I outta..."

"Let go of me!" the 'Maus barked, impotently kicking the Storch's long legs.

Her eyes widened, as the Storch raised a fist. Turned her head and clapped her eyes shut. "!!!"

"STOP!"

"..."

The Fledermaus cracked an eye open, then blinked. Stared at the fist, frozen in the air. Looked toward the sound.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The crowd parted, as a giant strode carefully, but purposefully, toward the Storch.

"...Jen, this little shit was..." Artemis said, eyes widening. She gestured to the newborn.

"I don't care what was happening!" Jenny barked, her normal, motherly expression stern. Angry, even. Brows furrowed. "Put. Her. Down. NOW."

"Ah!" the 'Maus yelped, as she fell on her ass. Looked up, between the two tall replikas. "..."

"..." Artemis frowned, stepping away. Eyes darting fearfully between the Mynah and the 'Maus. "...Jen...I..."

"Honestly, Artemis," Jenny said, clenching her giant fists. "You should know better than to raise a hand to family. No one deserves that kind of treatment, no matter what you feel about them."

"..." Artemis frowned, looking down at the floor. "...I..."

"I'm telling Elster about this," Jenny said, evenly, sternly.

The crowd, now quite substantive, broke out into furtive whispers.

The Storch froze. A lump caught in her throat. Vivid memories of Elster, in the guise of a monster - of her gestalt's father - about to strike her. She shivered, paling. "...p-please don't..."

"That's not for me to decide," Jenny said, narrowing her eyes. Her fists unclenched. She gestured down the hall. "Go. Think about what you've done."

Artemis's voice went quiet. "...o-okay..."

The 'Maus's eyes widened, as she watched the Storch hug herself and walk away. "..."

"Everyone else clear out," Jenny said, turning her whole body fractionally. "There's nothing to see here."

The corridor resounded with whispers and hoofsteps, as a dozen replikas retreated. They cast final glances at the newborn.

In seconds, the two were alone.

"...th-thank you," the 'Maus mumbled, eyes cast to the floor.

Stomp. Stomp.

She jumped, as a giant hand extended toward her, palm up. "...wh-?"

"Come on," Jenny said, softly. Bent low to look at the newborn through her open helmet window. A twitch of her cheeks and furrow of her brow betrayed the unease plaguing the giant, this close to the Pariah. Yet, she adopted a warm smile. "Let's get you up. Are you alright?"

"..." The 'Maus looked at the hand, then placed her own in the palm. Allowed herself to be raised to her hooves. Wiped oxident from her cheek with the back of her hand, eyes averted. "...'m fine..."

"You don't need to act tough," Jenny said, squatting to place her face nearer to eye level to the diminutive replika. "If you're not okay, we can get you help."

"...don't you hate me?" 01 asked, glancing up from the floor multiple times. "For being a Blank?"

"I don't make a habit of hating anyone," Jenny said, grinning. "Least of all kids. And even if I didn't like you...it's like I said." Her smile diminished. "No one deserves to be beat up on by someone bigger than them." She chuckled. "Except maybe daemons, of course."

"..." The Fledermaus permitted herself a small smile. Looked up through her bangs. "I guess. Daemons, huh? What are they like?"

"Unpleasant," Jenny said, rising to standing position. "Come on. Let's get you looked at."

 

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Sally looked over her shoulder, tearing eyes briefly away from the cockpit window. The hull of the Duarch loomed ever larger in front of them, as the shuttle puttered along through vacuum.

In the back, Jenny sat on the floor. The Fledermaus sat on her back, peeking over the top of the helmet. "..."

Artemis, on her knees beside the front row of seats, cast furtive glances up. Face flushed, hands wringing together. "...I heard Maria scream. Ran over. Thought it...she did something to her."

"Really?" Elster said, narrowing her eyes. She stood in front of the Storch, arms crossed. "Because I talked to Maria, and to the other girls in the hall with her. Even she says she bumped into 01 in her haste."

"I..." Artemis said, frowning. She stared down at her hands, then back up to her mother. "...'m sorry."

Elster's brows furrowed guiltily, noting the twinge of fear in the Storch's voice. "...don't apologize to me." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, toward the giant and her passenger. "Apologize to 01."

"Come on, mom! I..." Artemis's growl evaporated, as she hung her head. All fire in her belly extinguished. "...'kay...'m sorry..."

The Fledermaus, cheek propped up on one arm, huffed. "...sorry," 01 said, cracking a small smile, "didn't catch that."

"01, please," Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let's just get this over with..."

The Storch groaned, rubbing her fingers into her scalp. "Fine, fine..." She looked up, and raised her voice. "I'm sorry I almost hit you."

"You did hit me, remember?" the 'Maus said, drumming her fingers on the top of Jenny's helmet. Pointed to the bruise on her face, covered by a bandage. "And I don't know if I really believe you."

"..." Artemis glared.

"...but..." the Fledermaus sighed, shrugging. "...whatever. Apology accept."

Elster sighed, shrugging. "That's that, I guess."

"...is that it?" Artemis said, glancing warily up at her mother. "Wh-what's my punishment?"

"A week of extra work shifts," Elster said, flatly. Stretched her arms over her head. "Ngh...Circe needs more bodies hauled up from the Duarch's lower decks, so they can be identified. Ghosts need closure and proper funerals. Bring your gas mask, some of the cadavers still smell, especially when the piles are disturbed."

"...oh..." Artemis said, blinking. She hunched over, tension loosening from her chest.

"..." The Fledermaus studied Artemis's face, her frame. The way the Storch seemed to walk on eggshells, at least while her (their?) mother was angry.

It seemed terribly familiar to the 'Maus. Though she couldn't figure out why, or where it came from.

"..." Sally cast another glance backwards, then sighed in relief. Looked back to her flight, as they hove toward one of the Duarch's docks.

"..." Jenny's eyes traveled between Elster and Artemis. She tapped the side of her helmet, pensively. "...what happens now?"

Elster, arms crossed, sighed. Stared into space.

"...what I should have done earlier."

 

"Thank you for coming, everyone. We need to talk."

A large crowd stood on the floor of the hanger, pressed shoulder to shoulder. A Eusan shuttle parked to their right, a damaged Imperium flyer propped up to their left.

Ahead and above, stood on a metal catwalk, the replika commander held a microphone. Wires ran out to a box, connecting her to the hanger's intercom.

Replika and gestalt alike stared at the woman. And to the girl with the disquieting aura hiding behind her.

"My children will already be aware by now," Elster said, holding up an index finger. "But for the benefit of the gestalts in the audience, or the replikas who have been busy, I must introduce someone." She stepped deftly aside, motioning to the newborn.

"Ah!" the Fledermaus squeaked, hunching over in surprise. She shivered, looking out on the crowd below. "..."

The expressions displayed by the crowd were a varied mix of polite smiles, bewilderment, unease, scowls, and winces of disgust.

"This is FDMR-01, a 'Fledermaus' pattern replika unit," Elster said, hand held out toward her newest daughter. The Mother of Machines presented the mic to her. "Say hallo, 01."

Jumping, the 'Maus shakily leaned toward the mic. Spoke in a weak, cracking tone. "...h-h-hallo..."

"Boo!" came a cry from the crowd.

Snapping the microphone up, Elster scowled. "Who said that!? Who was it!?"

The crowd recoiled, shrinking fearfully. "..."

The 'Maus sheepishly hid behind her mother again. "..."

"..." Elster scanned the audience, brows furrowed. Gritted her teeth. "...see...this is what I wanted to talk about." She pointed at the crowd. "I won't tolerate that kind of behavior. That kind of hostility toward a girl who has done nothing wrong."

Turning half around, Elster forced a smile, and gingerly patted the FDMR's head. Only brief taps, as contact sent shivers and pinpricks up her arm. She whispered, "You're doing great."

Eyes hidden behind her bangs, the trembling newborn looked up. Sniffed. "..."

Turning back, Elster kept her expression stern. "I don't know what you think your problem with 01 is. Charitably, I'll assume you don't know either. You can't put your finger on it. But when you see her, it feels...wrong, somehow. Or perhaps you think you're experiencing some stimuli from her that grates on your nerves."

Elster began to pace the catwalk. "Whatever it is, I can assure you it isn't 'real' in the way you think. It's your brains inventing an explanation for what your subconscious feels. There is a reason why." She stood up straight, addressing the crowd directly. "The FDMR unit is designed, from the outset, to be a psychic Blank. In the parlance of the Imperium, a 'Pariah', 'Null', or 'Untouchable'."

A handful of gestalts, native to the Duarch, lit up. Stroked their chins or tilted their heads back fractionally in recognition. A murmur ran through the crowd.

At the back of the assemblage, as far away as possible, the Kolibris squirmed awkwardly.

"So believe me when I say 'I get it'," Elster said, softly. "We can't always control how we feel. And these feelings aren't invalid. You're entitled to them. On some worlds, an infant psychic Blank is smothered in its crib, or left to die, because of the revulsion their caregivers feel."

"...!" the 'Maus hugged herself, staring at her mother. Furrowed her brow, and looked to the catwalk floor.

"But how we feel, and how we process and act on those feelings, are two different things entirely."

The newborn looked up sharply. "..."

"Make no mistake, while their reaction is comprehensible," Elster said, narrower her eyes, "infanticide is nonetheless abhorrent. Just as the abuse and violence done to any unwanted child is abhorrent. A despicable crime, performed by cowards and monsters. No child deserves that kind of treatment. And no kin of theirs is absolved of their violence."

The irony of her words was not lost on Elster.

Amid the crowd, Artemis hugged herself, and stared at the 'Maus. She thought of her own gestalt. Her own memories. "..."

Nearby, Circe frowned. Touched her shoulder, where she felt her lover's hand. "..."

"I'll make it very clear: I will not tolerate any kind of bullying, slander, rumor-mongering, hostility, or, yes, violence against 01," Elster said, scowling. She paced the catwalk, eyes roving over the crowd. "She's family, and a member of the crew. Though it doesn't shine in the ethereal void, she has a soul just like you. Thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams." The Mother of Machines planted her hooves and huffed. "Her gestalt suffered enough at the hands of hateful, neglectful, or exploitative people. Suffered and died at the hands of an evil regime, that saw value only in her use as a weapon. We will not perpetuate that cycle. Not here, not among us. Do you understand?"

"..."

"...well?" Elster said, raising her voice. "Am I clear?"

Jumping in their skins, the crowd nodded or muttered in assent.

"Good," Elster nodded. She walked back, gingerly patting her daughter on the shoulder. "While I'd prefer if you all made friends, I won't demand it. If you can't summon positively toward 01, it would be counterproductive to force you to play nice. To smile and act friendly, while seething inside. That would only foster resentment."

The FDMR glanced at her mother, then the crowd, then down at her hands. Pressed index fingers together. "..."

"But if nothing else, knowing now why you feel the way you do," Elster said, looking up at the hanger's ceiling, "I ask you to at least be neutral. If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing. If going out of your way to interact with her causes you too much discomfort, don't. If she makes you mad or annoyed, just...leave her alone." She looked at the crowd. "Between our two ships, there's more than ample room. If you don't like her, don't make it anyone's problem. We can be adults about this. Because if I hear about anyone acting like schoolyard bullies, then I'm going to treat you like the misbehaving children you are. This goes for both my children, and the gestalts, no matter how old you are. Understand?"

Indistinct murmurs filled the room.

"..." The 'Maus sighed, staring at her hooves.

...at least they'll leave me alone now, she thought, frowning. Right?

"However..."

She felt a hand clap on her shoulder. Surprised, the 'Maus looked sidelong and up. "..."

"...I'm going to try to convince you why you should want 01 around," Elster said, smiling despite the tingling in her hand.

Several members of the crowd, crew from the Nomarch, understood where the conversation was going.

"Blanks are not merely anti-Psychic," Elster said, nodding. "They're anti-Warp. This includes against the denizens of that Immaterium."

The rest of the crowd snapped to attention. Whispers broke out.

"Some of my children will remember, during our forlorn jump to this system, that when the Neverborn stalked the halls, eventually Adler and Daisy came through," Elster said, pointing a finger to the audience. "And the daemons fled before them."

The two replikas in question, position near the front, despite Daisy's discomfort, turned around and cast glances to the onlookers.

"They didn't come alone," Elster said, firmly. "They carried a very special, very powerful brain."

FDMR 01, perplexed by this new information, flinched when her mother patted her on the head. "...huh?"

"That brain was a Blank brain," Elster said, smiling. "01's brain. A brain so potent in its anti-daemonic Null field, it killed a Daemon Herald, once called the Beautiful Blasphemy. Such a being is not in this world or the other today, because of her."

Blink. "...I...did that?" 01 whispered, eyes widening.

Elster nodded, whispering, "You did. My Slayer of Beauties."

A shiver up the spine. Color rushed to her face. "...c-cool..." 01 mumbled, smiling awkwardly.

The murmurs below intensified. Replika and gestalt alike locked in furious conversation. Their hearts suddenly aflutter.

Clapping the newborn's shoulder again, Elster stood behind her. "I created a Fledermaus unit - FDMR-01 - to act as our bulwark against the darkness. The stygian nightmares from beyond the world run in terror from a Blank, and hostile psychic power withers in her presence." The Mother of Machines smiled. "Know that whether you like her or not, 01 is your friend. Your comrade. If wards and weapons fail, she will not. Her very presence is anathema to the monsters of the Warp."

A sly grin. "So if you want her protection, keep her close. And if she's not close, you want her to WANT to come to your rescue. Think of that, when it comes time to decide what kind of companion you'll be to her."

The crowd held their breaths. The full weight of their commander's words sank in.

"..."

Clap.

Clap. Clap.

At the back of the crowd, Artemis clapped. Beaming.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Circe and her circle, despite themselves, joined in.

Clap-clap. Clap-clap.

Daisy and Adler, naturally, contributed.

The dams burst.

"..." The Fledermaus gaped in silence, brows rising, as the crowd below erupted into thunderous applause.

No longer did the people sneer or grimace. No longer look on with discomfort or disgust or disregard.

Whether merely self-interest, or relief, the crowd seemed genuinely happy for the Fledermaus's presence.

The girl stared. Then, tears welled in her eyes.

"...hngh..." 01 gasped, burying her face in her hands. She sobbed.

Despite the stinging in her hands and the ringing in her mind, Elster rubbed her daughter's shoulders.

"...it's alright...let it out...everything's going to be okay..."

Chapter 108: Vent Dwellers Flock Together

"Enjoy!"

Noise filled the cafeteria, as the 'Maus turned around. Tray in hand. Chopped lettuce and mealworm salad, baked beans, and algae muffins drenched in strawberry jam.

"..." 01 looked around.

A few replikas cast furtive glances her way. Upon being spotted, they either sheepishly averted their gaze or forced smiles.

Her ears caught a great deal of conversation. Progress on cleaning. Dates planned with gestalts from the Duarch. Orbital mechanics. The plots of films or books looted from nearby space hulks.

Only occasionally the word "Fledermaus".

She sighed, a tension melting from her chest. Hooves clacked on sterile floor, as she navigated to a corner of the room. Took seat at a table conspicuously empty, that she vaguely remembered hadn't been when she entered the room.

Clack.

"..." 01 glanced around. Brows furrowed sadly.

No aura of hostility anymore. Undeniably an improvement.

Nonetheless, the reception wasn't warm. The 'Maus was tolerated. She wasn't welcome. Any hint of positive reception clearly a polite gesture.

She sighed, looking down at her food. Took a big bite from her muffin. "..."

Despite being surrounded by people, the 'Maus still felt alone.

 

"What's that, behind that hulk? Two o'clock."

Instruments beeped and blinked. Artificial fingers pressed buttons and flipped switches. Floor vibrated with the thrum of engines.

Glancing over, Tulip cranked a lever. "Let's find out."

Micro-gravity adjustments tugged on their metal bones, as the Starhawk banked slowly around a drifting derelict.

Sailing through a cloud of smoke, the target of opportunity came into view.

The Goliath class Forge Tender Binharic Perfection sprawled out before them, sides and top studded by colossal metal globes. Crippled by a hole in its flank, from which scorched debris drifted lazily like an open wound. Sparks and emergency lights blinked, the vessel's reactor still operational.

"...extraordinary..." Hyssop breathed, eyes locked on the Mechanicum vessel. "...this is..."

Tulip nodded. "Begin a preliminary scan," she said, flipping switches. "I'll take us around, before we head back."

Her younger sister returned the nod, firing up the Starhawk's suite of instruments. Behind the two Aras, an unimplanted Ara brain, hardwired into the system where a long-dead servitor once sat, thrummed to life.

Installing the brain in the first place had been a point of consternation to Daisy. But given the design of the bomber and their already strained timetable, it couldn't be helped.

Targeting reticles appeared on the smart glass cockpit window, highlighting a flurry of technical points of interest.

"We're going to be salvaging this one, too?" Hyssop said, her mind already spinning. She gripped the copilot controls excitedly.

"..." Tulip tilted her head, studying the craft. "If we can, and if there's time."

She forced a smile, her own hands clutching the controls with giddy delight.

"For the next trip, we're going to need the Shark."

 

"Really now, this is unnecessary. I can operate myself. It would not be the first time."

Monitor beeped in time with artificial heart. Air tinged with incense and antiseptic. Overhead lights bathed converted operating theater white.

Surgical gloves snapped over black, artificial hands.

"Be that as it may," Rose said, from behind her mask, "it will be less strenuous on your body to let us do it." She pinned her long red hair back.

"Plus, all that tedious business about us loving you and so forth," Elster shrugged, laying out a complex set of ritually sanctified tools. She raised her gaze. "Our history notwithstanding."

"Hmph," Diodana huffed, resting metal hands on the armrests of the operating table. "Such sentimentality is surprising from you, LSTR-512." Four photo-receptors glanced at the replika commander. "Do you not have altogether enough work to do? A little hellion to mind?"

"FDMR-01 will be fine, I think. Dash is running her through her paces at the gun range." Elster inspected a rotary saw. "As for my other work...while there is so much to do, so little time to do it..." She sighed, and wagged a finger at the tech adept. "I'll be able to work more efficiently, knowing you're taken care of."

"Efficiency IS important, after all," Rose nodded. Forced a smile beneath her mask to her teacher. "It's why we're here in the first place."

"...affirmative," Diodana said, leaning her head back against the padded seat. She extended a mechadendrite, tapping into its camera feed. "Very well. Once the anesthetic is applied, we shall begin. I will talk you through it."

"Right," Elster nodded, side-eyeing the Ara as she prepared targeted numbing agents in a syringe.

The tech adept sighed. A pressure released from her chest.

"Free me from this accursed knee, so I may be holier in the eyes of the Machine God. I long for the strength and certainty of steel."

 

Zap. Zap. Zap.

"...okay, stop."

A target sheet trundled forward by overhead track, smoke wafting from burning holes. It stopped at the front of the range, displaying holes clustered above the human outline's head.

Lowering the laspistol, the Fledermaus frowned. "..."

"...well...your grouping is pretty good," Dash said, pointing to spots on the sheet. "So your precision is solid. Just..."

"...it won't go where I want it," 01 grumbled, hanging her head.

Dash furrowed her brow. Looked down at the weapon in the girl's hand. "...why do you snap back when you fire?"

"Eh?" the 'Maus said, looking up quizzically. "W-what do you mean?"

"That's..." Dash stroked her chin pensively. Lips pursed behind her mask. "Hand it over to me."

When the 'Maus complied, Dash set the laspistol aside and drew a regular, Eusan-pattern handgun from her belt. "Let's try this one, yeah?"

"Okay," 01 said, shrugging. She took the firearm, pointing muzzle to the ceiling. As with the laspistol, her index finger rested off the trigger, without requiring instruction. Behind thick bangs, her eyes checked the safety switch. Without thinking, hands went through the motions of removing the magazine, checking ammo count, and drawing back the slide to inspect the round in the chamber.

Sliding the magazine back in and pointing to the floor, the 'Maus looked up at the Star. Mouth curled quizzically. "...what?"

"..." Dash raised an eyebrow, studying the ease with which the girl handled the weapon. The Star initially thought, when the session started, she would need to drill the 'Maus about basic gun safety. Instead, Dash found it unnecessary. "...nothing." She turned to the wall and removed two sets of padded headsets. "Remember your ear protection."

Nodding, 01 set the pistol down on the table in front of her. After her ears were covered, she picked the handgun back up...and went through all the motions of checking ammunition and safety again.

"..." Dash, her own ears covered, watched the 'Maus curiously.

At the press of a button, the target sheet, still smoking, trundled backwards.

When it settled, Dash gave a thumbs up to the 'Maus.

"Hmm," 01 nodded, and entered a firing stance. One hand steadied the other, locking the handgun in place. A stance Dash didn't need to teach her.

Through a gap in her bangs, the 'Maus sighted her target. Squeezed the trigger.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Click.

Dash blinked.

Through the haze of gunsmoke, the 'Maus ejected the spent magazine and drew back the slide, inspecting the empty chamber. She reengaged the safety, and set handgun and spent magazine down on the table. Looked up at the Star. "...what?"

"...let's...see how you did," Dash said, slowly. She pressed the wall button.

As the sheet trundled toward them, the Star glanced down at the girl. "..."

"...woah!" 01 breathed, inclining her head back. She smiled, staring at the sheet. Looked between it and the Star. Pointed excitedly. "...eh? Eh?"

"Ha," Dash chuckled, smiling behind her mask. She crossed her arms, staring at the sheet. "Not bad."

The bullet holes easily stood out from the singed las bolt holes. Both because they weren't giving off wisps of smoke, and because they all clustered around the target's center of mass.

"Tight grouping, very precise," Dash nodded, "and very accurate. "Good job."

The Fledermaus hopped up and down, ecstatic. Flashed fangs through wide grin. "Yes, yes, yes..."

She looked up at the Star and furrowed her brow. "...why...did it work now?"

"Because before, you were compensating for kick that las-weapons don't have," Dash said, stroking her chin. She looked the 'Maus over. "...I think your gestalt got put through a ton of training with weapons Eusan had to hand, back when the Nation had her."

"Oh? Huh..." 01 looked at the sheet, crossing her own arms. She mirrored the Star's chin stroking. "...why was that, I...?"

The two fell silent. The explanation not difficult to surmise.

AEON gave their silver bullet against Empire (and domestic) bioresonants as much training as possible, before 'harvesting'.

"..." The Star furrowed her brow sadly. Like her own gestalt, the Ur-Fledermaus had whatever life she possessed warped and then stolen by AEON, to create a better weapon.

Dash noted the grave expression on the 'Maus's face. The Star held a hand out, making to pat the girl on the shoulder.

"...sooooo," 01 said, quickly changing the subject, "does this mean I don't need more training?" She looked at the Star, with a hopeful smile on her lips.

Dash lowered her hand, then smiled with her eyes. "Heh. No, not at all. You might know how to fire a solid slug pistol. But that doesn't mean you can't benefit from regular practice to keep your skills sharp."

"Mmmrrr..." the 'Maus groaned, frowning.

"Moreover, your skills don't help you use any other weapons, especially lasguns and laspistols," Dash nodded. "Those will be far easier to find and keep supplied than our stuff from home. I'm afraid you still need range practice."

"Boo!" 01 said, slumping her shoulders. She crossed her arms petulantly. "Lame."

"I know, I know," Dash chuckled. She reached out, hesitantly, and patted the Fledermaus's head. "But hey...you did good today."

Peeking between a part in her hair, 01 blinked.

Then, smiled.

 

"...extraordinary. By the Omnissiah..."

Replika servo-skulls flitted around the room. Wires ran to ones hovering beside cogitator banks, uploading reams of technical data. Screens bathed the newly consecrated workshop in light, displaying footage captured on-site.

Senior Aras stood around the bed, while their younger siblings worked in the background. Their teacher reclined, back half of the bed raised, one leg propped up in a cast.

"The damage is extensive in some ways, yes," Diodana mused, four photo-receptors drinking in the scene with utmost technical precision. "But what joy, so much remains preserved. Omnissiah be praised!" She sighed. "Would that my leg were fully healed, that I might inspect her in person..."

"Further examination confirmed my suspicion," Tulip said, arms crossed. "The Binharic Perfection won't be Warp capable without a complete Warp engine replacement. However, impulse thrusters could be made to work, at roughly 30% efficiency." The senior pilot stroked her chin. "Without a major overhaul, it will only be able to turn starboard. So getting it over here will be a pain. But..."

"But it can be done," Diodana nodded. Metal fingers tapped a control panel to her right. One of the screens scrubbed back and forth through servo-skull footage of a damaged secondary engine, exposed to vacuum. "While I'm loath to divert time and resources to a second project, getting a mobile forge functioning, even at reduced capacity, is a major boon. Timetables for further repair work may be expedited considerably in the long run."

"Yeah, Adler's going to like that," Petunia nodded, unplugging one of the servo-skulls. With a Noospheric command, another drifted over to take its place. "Even if it means disrupting the current schedule."

"I've already talked to Mom about it," Daisy said, eyes locked on one of the screens. "She wants to know the potential timeframe for refit on the Perfection, before she signs off on it."

"Understandable," Diodana said. Her head turned, photo-receptors clocking a large room displayed on another screen. Its hold filled to the brim with... "Ah! Servitors! I knew the ship's arrival in-system was recent. But these seem active."

"Most of them were malnourished," Petunia said. "The automatic nutrient dispensers were either depleted or jammed, due to age and the interior violence that marooned it." Her eyes drifted across the screens, studying claw marks and discoloration on metal walls. Signs of daemonic incursion, from the failure of the Forge Tender's Geller Field. "We've got a few of the younger Aras tending to them now. Many couldn't even walk..."

Daisy frowned.

"Well, once they're back to operational capacity, the Work will proceed faster and more smoothly," Diodana said, lips smiling behind her respirator. "The Machine God has blessed us twofold!"

"...I don't like it," Daisy said, furrowing her brow.

Diodana cast a glance to her most senior (living) student. Sighed. "...Daisy, we have discussed this..."

"I know," Daisy said, flatly. Cast a sidelong glance at her teacher. "I still don't like this. Using servitors..."

"We cannot afford to give up such an asset, my dear," Diodana said, raising a metal finger. "Servitors made forge-fanes the galaxy over function. If the Motive Force is the Machine God's blessed blood, Servitors are their hands."

"Doesn't make it right," Daisy said, crossing her arms and looking away. "The organic element is the weakest, and least necessary, part of the Servitor." She waved a hand at the servo-skulls floating through the air. "We don't need to hurt anyone, clearly. We could..."

"Once again, I will not hear of it, ARAR-N0601," Diodana said, using her student's designation to assert her authority. "I do not begrudge your interest in Cybernetika, problematic though those...crystals the Thousand Sons afforded you are. But I won't raise the specter of Abominable Intelligence on my watch."

"What's the difficulty, if they're controlled?" Daisy said, raising her voice. She looked at her teacher. Narrowed her eyes. "There are levels of automation, and levels of independence of cogitation. So long as there's a controller, what...?"

"Let's...calm down," Petunia said, holding her hands up. "Both of you."

"She's right," Tulip said, looking between eldest sister and teacher. "Rehashing this argument again won't solve anything. Neither of you are going to change your minds, right?"

Diodana and Daisy fell silent. Looked away.

"...I'm sorry, teacher," Daisy said, frowning. "I should not have raised my voice."

"...apology accepted," Diodana sighed, nodding. "I apologize for disregarding your feelings. Your intentions are noble, focused on the betterment of mankind through blessed technology. I cannot fault you for this. Even...if I disagree."

"...to be clear," Tulip said, looking to her elder sister, "the matter of their exploitation is moot. The Servitors already exist, lobotomized and dehumanized. What's done is done."

Daisy looked away, grumbling, "...we could grow them new brain tissue..."

"Enough," Diodana said, sternly. "Even if we could remand independence of thought to the Servitors, it is altogether more work on our already crowded docket. At present, they do not feel the discomfort of their servitude, or should not if created correctly..."

"I'll need to be the judge of that," Daisy said, looking to her teacher. "I'll get one of the Kolibris to read their minds, in case one of the Servitors remains partially conscious."

"...an acceptable precaution, I concede," Diodana nodded.

"There's also the possibility they were genetically modified and vat-grown," Petunia chimed in, raising her index finger. "Meaning they never had higher brain function to begin with."

"I guess..." Daisy shrugged, shutting her eyes.

"With that settled," Diodana nodded, hand tapping the control panel again, "we shall continue the audit of the Binharic Perfection."

Petunia walked to her eldest sister and patted her shoulder. Forced a smile, and leaned over to her ear. "If it makes you feel any better, we also found some automata. Interested?"

"..." Daisy glanced at her sister. Forced a smile of her own.

"...yeah...I am. Thank you."

 

"Yo, Rue! Where are you?"

The flashlight played across the utility tunnel. Its pipes warm, its wires thrummed with electric current. Walls vibrated with the motion of nearby motors and distant ventilators.

Crawling on her hands and knees, the Ara bolted up to attention. A free hand brushed the roof of the tunnel right above her head, to keep herself from banging it. "..."

"If you're there, make some noise!"

Rue breathed a sigh of relief. Black hand fished a wrench from her tool belt.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Sound vibrated off a metal pipe. Echoed down the shaft.

"Oh!" croaked the voice, struggling to raise itself above a mumble. A shuffling sound filtered over from the maze of utility tunnels ahead. "That you, Rue? Keep doing that! I'll be right over!"

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The Ara kept a rhythmic beat. In her head, she formulated a response on the Noosphere. "[Someone found me. They're coming.]"

"[That's good,]" Adler replied. "[Stay put.]"

Rue exhaled, keeping the sound going.

To her chagrin, the Ara found herself in a situation she hadn't experienced in years: being lost.

A tiny vessel by the metrics of Warp-capable craft, the Nomarch's web of vents and tunnels were comparatively simple. Rue knew them like the back of her hand. As a woman who did not leave by inclination, and hadn't done so in the better part of a decade, the Nomarch was practically her whole world. Her only experience outside it, prior to the Duarch, was the Joys of Duty, another Frigate. And then only during that period, so many years ago, when they actively pillaged it for scrap.

Unfortunately, whether due to being a different class, or because the Joys of Duty had more extensive damage, Rue's map of Frigates - internal and digital both - were incomplete.

Despite herself, Rue managed to get lost amid the Duarch's labyrinthine innards.

Clang. Clang.

The Ara's efforts ceased, as she heard an approaching shuffle.

"I'm here," the voice called. Her face, half-shrouded by thick bangs, peeked around a corner. "There yo- ACK!"

The Ara flinched, as the Fledermaus flopped over, hands over her obscured eyes. "..."

"Sons a' biches!" FDMR-01 grumbled, rubbing her face. "Too bright!"

Breaking out in a sweat, Rue hastily fumbled with her flashlight. Snapped it off. "..."

"...fach...y-you okay?" the 'Maus said, rolling back on her hands and knees. "That's you, isn't it?"

Rue furrowed her brow, looking into the oppressive darkness. Her ears, trained to the subtle fluctuations of sound in the enclosed environment, twitched. The barest whisper of a low, staccato whine. Not properly heard, but more felt.

Some kind of Sonar Module?, Rue thought, quizzically. She tilted her head.

"Come closer, if it's Rue," 01 said.

Reluctantly, a shiver up her spine at a voice that grated just a bit too much, Rue crawled forward. "..."

"..." The Fledermaus tapped her fingers against the tunnel floor. "You don't talk much, huh?" She chuckled, voice a low rasp. "Don't worry, I get it."

When they were a meter away from each other, Rue fished a device from her belt. Fingers tapped keys by touch alone. The machine spoke, "[Can't talk.]"

"Oh?" the 'Maus said, taken aback. "Hold on." She fished her own flashlight from a pocket. It clicked on, bulb far dimmer than Rue's. She slowly turned it toward the Ara. The warm light bouncing off the tunnel walls reflected off her sharp teeth. "That thing talk for you? Cool."

Blushing, Rue looked away, stowing her speaker machine again. She sat up as best she could beneath the low ceiling, hands signing, "[Do you know the way out?]"

"..." The 'Maus blinked behind her bangs, surprised both at the sign language, and that she could understand it. "...oh...uh, yeah." She sat up herself, fingers reaching under her oversized, brown sweater to scratch her neck. She looked down at her hands, then set the flashlight aside. Looking between her hands and the Ara, she tried to sign back.

"[...go...bhis...w-haay...?]" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, face flushed. "Sorry, I'm...not good at this. Didn't even know I knew it, until just now."

Despite the oily feeling of the 'Maus's voice - a purely false impression, she supposed - Rue forced a smile. Did a dry heave chuckle, and signed, "[It's okay.]" She stared into space for a second, then added. "[Do you have a Noosphere connection? It would be easier.]"

"...new...sphere?" 01 muttered, tilting her head to the side. She looked down at her hands, miming the gestures back at the Ara. Tried to parse the completely foreign phrase, cobbled together from syllable signs phonetically. "...what's that?"

Sighing, Rue shook her head. "[Let's talk later.]"

"R-right," the 'Maus said, scratching her head. She spun on her bottom, waving the Ara over. "Come on. I don't know this place at all, but I memorized the way I came."

The Ara nodded. Though a part of her didn't want to follow the 'Maus, escaping the maze of tunnels took priority.

Rue also couldn't deny she felt grateful.

 

"This way. Watch your step."

The two navigated switch-backs and vents, until they found a vertical shaft, two meters wide on each side. Dim, yellow safety lumens lined the corners, casting the space in feeble, warm light.

"We go up from here," FDMR-01 said, climbing out of the vent. Hands gripped pipes, as her hooves hugged the lip of the landing that circled around the perimeter. "You good to climb? This uh...chimney thing doesn't have a ladder."

Hand resting on the upper lip of the vent shaft, Rue nodded. As she sat on the edge, her mechadendrites spooled out.

"I'll go up first," the 'Maus said, nodding in return.

She raised a hoof. A trio of curved, metal claws slid out from a set of slots. They dug into a gap in the pipes, granting the young replika a strong hoof-hold.

"..." Rue's eyes widened, watching the talons glint in the yellow light.

FDMR-01 was a meter up the wall, before she looked back down. Mouth pursed quizzically, she looked down at an upraised leg and grinned. "Oh, this?" she said, wiggling the claws in demonstration. "Yeah, Mom...that is, Elster, installed these the other day. Aren't they cool?"

Rue couldn't help herself. She nodded, mouth curling into a smile. Suppressed a giggle. "..."

"Yeah, really cool," the 'Maus chuckled, slapping her knee. She resumed climbing. "Come on, we gotta move."

Mechadendrites stretched and grasped handholds, as Rue followed the 'Maus in her ascent.

"..." The Ara couldn't help noticing that despite possessing four fewer limbs, the newborn outpaced her by a considerable margin.

It wasn't just that the Ara's hooves were unaugmented, either. Rue was hardly a novice at navigating vertical climbs in tight spaces.

But the Fledermaus's movements occupied a whole other level. Hands picked out solid holds consistently. Passed over pipes or ledges Rue might have tested, seemingly at a glance. Unseen eyes craned up, plotting a course meters ahead. Shimmied around the perimeter of the shaft, and even braced herself between parallel walls, if it saved time or effort.

All this, the 'Maus did without pause or deliberation. Rue could climb around the Nomarch's innards quickly via her mechadendrites, and because she knew all the best handholds by rote. FDMR-01, just as new to the Duarch as the Ara, navigated the environment through climbing skill alone.

When she reached a higher landing, the 'Maus sat and looked down. Hooves dangled over the edge, flexing claws impatiently. "You good?" 01 said, cocking an unseen eyebrow.

Three meters below, Rue shook her head. "..."

When the Ara closed the distance, the 'Maus stood at the corner of the shaft, hoof claws locked on the landing, and reached down at outstretched hand. "Need a lift?"

"..." Inhaling, Rue took the offered hand. Phantom goosebumps ran down her arm at the touch. She buried the sensation, letting the 'Maus help her up. When they stood on the same landing, Rue signed, "[Thank you.]"

"No prob," 01 shrugged. She patted the top of a vent running off from the shaft, and ducked her head. "Come on. We're almost there."

Rue watched the newborn disappear inside. Looked down at her hand. "..."

It felt oily. Gross. She rubbed fingers together, noting its dryness. Yet the sensation remained.

"..." She forced a smile. Wiped her hand on her jumpsuit out of habit, and followed.

In front of her, the Fledermaus chuckled.

"You hungry? Cause I'm hungry. I think they're serving mealworm bake and apricot preserve cobbler today..."

Chapter 109: I'm Just Your Problem

"Mmm..."

Pale fingers curled around a sheet. Nostrils flared. Lips smacked lazily.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Red eyes cracked open. The gestalt sucked air. She reached down and brushed the artificial hands hugging her stomach.

"Ellie?" Ariane croaked, turning over groggily in the replika's arms. "You're here?"

"I am," Elster whispered, smiling. Head turned down to look the gestalt in the eyes.

Ariane sighed, shutting her eyes and smiling happily. "I'm so glad..." she said, lazily draping an arm around her lover's shoulder for leverage. Craned her neck and leaned up. "Ellie..."

Elster gasped, eyes half-lidded, "Ari..."

The two shared a kiss. The replika threaded her fingers through white hair, cupping the back of her lover's head. Leaned heavily, passionately, into the kiss.

For a brief moment, the gestalt permitted herself a moment of uncomplicated bliss. Awoke in her girlfriend's arms. As if nothing at all existed outside their bunk. Her heart fluttered.

Spit bridged their lips as they reluctantly parted. Breathed heavily, inhaling each other's scent.

"...hah...hah..." Ariane panted, face flushed. "Oh Ellie..."

Her brows furrowed. In the back of her mind, the veil of slumber fell away. The sorrowful, guilt-ridden reality of their situation crept back. The price that bought these moments of bliss. And, of course, more pressing matters...

"...did it work?" Ariane whispered, hand caressing the replika's neck. "The Fledermaus?"

"Yes," Elster breathed, nodding. The edges of her mouth turned up. "Your idea worked like a charm, after a bit of fiddling." She chuckled softly. "A lot of fiddling, actually..."

"I'm glad," Ariane said, smiling. Ran fingers through black hair. She sat up. "You'll need to tell me all about it..."

"Ooh!" Elster gasped, rolling over on her back. Eyes widened, as the gestalt climbed on top of her.

Already divested of her nightgown the cycle before, Ariane Yeong gazed lasciviously down at her lover. Face flush, chest heaving. Eyes half-lidded and hungry.

The price of this bliss was immense. It would be a waste not to savor it.

"...for the moment, though...I'd like you all to myself, big mamma."

 

"...she sounds fun."

Hands laced together, black with pale. Eyes stared out the cockpit window, at the simulation of infinite stars.

"...she is," Elster said, smiling. Frowned. "...just thinking about how close I was to..."

"Shh..." Ariane cooed, squeezing her girlfriend's hand. Nestled deeper in her arms. "You didn't. That's what matters."

"She'll hate me," the replika said, a lump in her throat. "Or fear me. I don't know which is worse. I thought I was better than this now. Thought I was stronger..."

The gestalt furrowed her brow, and reached up. Caressed her lover's cheek. "None of us is strong all the time. We...we know that better than most. Right?"

"..." Elster placed her hand atop the gestalt's, then leaned down. Kissed the woman's white hair. "...right."

"We can't change the past," Ariane said, smiling. "All we can do is be better. And be there for them."

Her girlfriend smiled back. Then frowned. "Sorry I can't be here for you all the time."

"That can't be changed," Ariane sighed, shutting her eyes. Looked sidelong at the cockpit wall. "...really I...it would be so much easier, if it wasn't so boring. Those newspapers only help so much. I've read all my books a hundred times, and the films...well, you know what our collection is like."

"True," Elster nodded, hugging the gestalt warmly. "You could try painting, maybe?"

"I've triiiiieeeed," Ariane whined, rocking her head back and forth performatively. "I've been getting art block. Plus..." She looked up and stuck her tongue out, smiling. "...my muse is gone all the time! I can't work under these conditions."

The replika smiled. Narrowed her eyes. "...I'll...see what I can do about that."

"Oh...while you're here..." Ariane said, softening. She flashed an apologetic smile. "...can you...do something about the shower? Like, turn the timer off? I'm tired of rushing all the time."

Elster laughed, eyes shut.

"That, I can do."

---

Wake up.

Internal systems booted up. Comatose brain ushered awake. Tiny, thin frame jerked to life. Brows furrowed.

"...mmmm..." the 'Maus rolled over on the examination table, patting bangs thick over her eyes. Drowsily rubbed her face.

"Right on time" Elster said, putting away the last of her tools. Despite the buzz in her brain, she smiled. "The timed wake-up seems to work. Enjoy your nap?"

Shrugging, the Fledermaus opened her mouth wide. Fingers fished out plastic mouth guard, revealing sharp teeth and fangs. "...mgh...s'kay...di'n't real feel like an'thing..."

"Trust me, when there's enough monsters squatting in your subconscious, dreamless sleep is a godsend," Elster sighed, shutting her eyes and rubbing the back of her head. Tapped the side table as she passed. "Tea, if you want it."

"...th'k you..." FDMR-01 mumbled, sitting on the edge of the table. Half-asleep, she groped for the steaming mug. Took an entire handful of sugar cubes and dropped them in. As she inhaled the aroma, mind catching up to wakefulness by inches, she pondered. "...why'd I n'd cal-ba-brashun, anyway?"

"Your Torpor Module?" Elster said, leaning against a worktable across the room.

"Y's..." the 'Maus mumbled, nodding. Eyes clasped shut, as she swayed drunkenly. Mug in her hands.

"AEON's records didn't specify," Elster shrugged, crossing her arms. She looked at the ceiling. "The specs were well documented. But the purpose, like a lot of your 'features', is...murky..." She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the first blush of a Null-induced headache coming on. Should have asked Rose or Tulip to do the installation. "...if I had to guess...I'd say since the Fledermaus pattern was designed to act as a special agent of espionage and assassination against bioresonant targets...they may have felt it useful if they could go into Calibration at-will, out in the field."

"Why?" 01 mumbled, spoon stirring half-dissolved cubes into a tea-infused, sugary sludge.

Elster shrugged. "Lying in wait for days. Stowing away on transports. Being transported in storage containers or coffins. Even laying on battlefields, pretending to be a corpse?"

"Hmm...guess tha's cool..." the 'Maus muttered, nodding. She took a sip, savoring the hit of sugar and caffeine. Eyes fluttering open behind her bangs, she looked down at the syrupy liquid that wafted steam. Lips curled up slightly. "...sleepin' in a coffin might be cool..."

Her mother chuckled, covering her mouth. "You think so?"

Another sip. The 'Maus furrowed her brows thoughtfully. "...seems familiar, somehow."

"Who knows?" Elster said, resting hands on the counter behind her. "Your gestalt was found living in an abandoned church, it seems. Maybe she slept in a coffin? Do dark, confined places make you feel safe?"

Emphatic nod. "Yeah. I like it. Like crawlin' through the vents. Dark. Cozy."

"You and the Aras will probably get along well, then," Elster smiled. She inclined her head forward. "Speaking of...let's test our new modules. Sound good?"

"'kay..." the Fledermaus nodded. She put her mug down and turned perception inward. Discovered a new menu on her digital interface, titled "Noosphere".

The feature took two parts. First, a toggle for Noospheric senses. When she turned it on and retreated from the menus, she blinked in surprise. Her vision overlaid with a dense cloud of colors, code, shapes, and data. She looked around the room, watching numbers and script cling to walls. Saw glowing lines pass through walls, as other users sent messages across the Nomarch.

"...whoa...lot a' colors..." 01 breathed, blinking.

"Heh...yeah, it's kind of a lot, isn't it?" Elster said, rubbing her temples. Eyes darting around, staring into space. "I'm still getting used to it myself..."

Looking inward again, if only to cut back on stimulation, the 'Maus checked the Noosphere menu. Toggled the overlay off, then checked the "Available Networks" tab. When she selected "Nomarch 06", it popped up a window requesting a password.

"...hmm...oh, right." It took the 'Maus a moment to remember the string of letters and numbers her mother told her to memorize. Inputting the password by thought, she saw the menu open up into a dense mass of chat rooms and forum threads. "...ooh...are they really all talking this much with each other?"

"It would appear so..." Elster nodded, staring into space. Her own perceptions focused on the digital. "You know, I thought the radio chatter was low lately. I guess more and more of the family are adopting the Noosphere to talk to one another."

The 'Maus tilted her head. She realized a personal ident-tag was already installed for her. 'FDMR-N0601'. Perusing a thread at random (about model voidships, as it happened), she found most users displayed their unit designations...underneath or beside a username. "...oh yeah...people name themselves things..."

Smiling, Elster began mentally inputting text.

Ding.

"Oh!" the 'Maus said, face lighting up.

A private message appeared in her interface. From 'Elster (LSTR-512)'.

"[Have you chosen a name yet?]" Elster messaged.

"..." The 'Maus toggled briefly to reality. Eyed her mother.

"..." The Mother of Machines smiled warmly, staring. Waiting.

Looking inward again, the girl stared at the message. At the reply text box. Crossed her arms, head bowed in contemplation. Finally, she input a replay. Her first ever contribution to the Noosphere.

"[I'm still thinking about it.]"

 

"...designation? Uh..."

The newborn supported herself on the handrails installed on either side, leading away from the calibration pod. She rubbed her eyelids, still woozy from vertigo. Her long legs wobbly.

"...uh..." she mumbled, blinking at the ground. "...I'm...STAR-D01...05?"

"Very good," Daisy nodded, checking a box on her clipboard. "Implantation successful." She turned to her right, before looking over her left shoulder. "Can you handle this from here?"

"I got this, Dais, don't worry," Kite nodded, crossing her arms. The auburn-haired Star grinned. "I've got her."

"Alright," Daisy said, stimming with her pen as she moved down the line. Click click. Click click. "Next."

STAR-D0105 shook her head, watching the Ara walk away. "I'm sorry, what's...happening...?"

The newborn's eyes widened as she turned her head and saw a row of calibration pods, similar to her own. Each in various states of occupancy. Older replikas stood alongside juniors of their models, the latter trembling on their hooves like newborn deer, or resting on the ground.

"If you think that's cool," Kite said, pointing, "look up."

Her junior craned her head back, skin grown pale. "...whoa..."

She drank in the high, vaulted ceiling of a cavernous room. Looking around, she saw their pods were built atop low platforms, with higher catwalks ringing the room's perimeter. Calling the space a 'workshop' seemed almost to undersell its size and grandeur.

Occupying the shop floor, assembly lines shaped and cobbled together artificial limbs, skulls, and torsos. Joined lengths of manufactured muscle fibers into bundles. Stamped male and female coded chest plates. Etched serial numbers into metal, and gloved polyethylene skin onto hands. Somewhere nearby, the heat of a foundry wafted from a doorway, where titanium stripped from salvaged scrap melted. Drawn by channels into molds that shaped molten metal into femurs, tibias, ribs, and sternums.

"..." The newborn's mouth gaped.

Sidling over, Kite clapped one arm around the shoulders of her younger sister. Free hand rose and gently lifted the Star's jaw back up.

"Easy there, newbie. Welcome to the Duarch."

 

"What do you want, Bat?"

Feather duster kicked up clouds of dust, as a diligent Eule in an apron milled around. Shelves clogged with books collected across many years and a full Segmentum. Further boxes crowded corners and between lounge chairs, full to bursting with unsorted volumes.

A deliberately lax withdrawal policy maintained, simply to keep the Nomarch's library from growing prohibitively cluttered. Sprawling detective work frequently necessary to locate specific texts.

The Fledermaus cocked her head to the side, hair dangling below. A rare chance to see her eyes unobstructed, as she hung from the overhead vent. "...Bat? Why the foreign word?"

"'Cause 'Fledermaus' is too damn unwieldy," Artemis said, scowling. Arms crossed, leaned against a bookshelf. "Need to call you something, and I ain't doing that."

"...fair," the 'Maus shrugged, blinking. She pitched her head forward, so she could slide her lower body out and turn right side up. Hopped down, hoof claws retracted to spare the carpet. She brushed dust from her arms. "I'm actually here about that."

"About what?" Artemis said, grimacing down at the diminutive replika, nose wrinkled.

"'m tired of being just a number," FDMR-01 said, stretching arms high. Brushed bangs over her eyes again, shook her head. Looked up at the Storch. "Rue said I should check the 'li-berry', to pick a name."

Under the unseen gaze of the 'Maus, Artemis blushed. Recalled with remorse her treatment of the tiny creature. Even if she still gave the Storch the creeps. Artemis looked sharply away. "...oh...o-okay. Sure. Makes sense."

"..." The Fledermaus's mouth crooked quizzically. She shrugged, and stepped over to a bookshelf. Head swiveled, taking in the extent of the collection. "...lot of books, huh?"

"I guess," Artemis shrugged.

"Oop...opp..." the 'Maus said, hopping repeatedly. Unsuccessfully reached for a book with a curious-looking spine on the top shelf. Stretched her arm, fingers flexed. "Ngh! Come on..."

Artemis and the Eule maid eyed each other silently, frowning. Finally, the Storch stepped over and easily plucked the book out. "Here."

"Oh..." 01 said, blinking. She accepted the book hesitantly, glancing between its cover and the Storch. "...th-thanks..."

Whatever she gathered from the cover, the book seemed to dissatisfy. With a disinterested frown, the 'Maus set it on the lip of a lower shelf. Looked around nervously, fingers pressed to her lips. "..."

"..." The Storch sighed, crossing her arms and shutting her eyes. "You have no idea what you're looking for, do you?"

"Eh heh heh..." the Fledermaus breathed, rubbing the back of her head. "Yeah. I...don't know anything about books..."

"Can you even read?" Artemis said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Y-yes!" 01 cried, standing rigid, color flooding to her face. "I can read! I just..." Her tone softened, eyes downcast. "...I don't know what to do with books when I've got 'em in my hands. I don't think my gestalt read them a lot..."

An outcast living in a bell tower probably didn't get much opportunity, Artemis thought, frowning. Her brows furrowed sadly.

The 'Maus, eyes downcast, looked up sharply when she saw the comically large legs move. "...?"

"Come on, I'll help you out," Artemis groaned, beginning to pluck volumes from the shelves. "Here. We'll start with biology."

"B-bio...lology?" the 'Maus said, taking first one book, then another, then another.

"Animal shit," Artemis said, eyes locked on the shelf in front of her, as her hands kept moving. "You're named for the Bat. Makes sense to learn all you can about them."

"O-okay?" The Fledermaus had to hold the stack of books with both arms. Watched it grow taller.

"History, too," Artemis said, crouching to pillage another section. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. "Oh! And mythology!"

"...ngh..." the 'Maus squeaked, as the enthusiastic Storch piled books in her arms. The newborn sagged to her knees under the weight. "Is this...really needed?"

She froze, a single eye peeking between locks of hair.

The Storch, books in her hands, looked down on the 'Maus with a mixture of genuine delight and sadistic pleasure.

"What? I'm helping."

On some level, Artemis even believed that.

 

"Where did you say you found this?"

Two pairs of giant hands set the painted metal blocks on the floor. Their fronts set with ports, tiny lights, and disk drives. Three of them - with an unknown number yet to be unloaded from the shuttle - half the height of an adult gestalt.

"One of the wrecks outside, about twenty minutes fly by shuttle," Tulip said, slapping the top of one of the drives. "Initially, when we pulled them out of what we think was a captain's quarters, we thought it might be useful as additional digital storage."

"But then we looked inside," Sally said, crossing her arms and smiling. "Safety precautions, in case it contained a virus or cognito-hazard. Instead..."

Tulip handed over the dataslate.

Elster scrolled down, studying the digital manifest. Eyebrows rose. "...music?"

"Music, films, and books,too. And a lot of it!" Sally said, hunching forward expectantly. Slapped the top one of the drives. "Captain's private collection. I don't even know if there's a name for the amount of Bytes in these bad boys."

"Moreover, a lot of it is old," Tulip said, nodding. "The metadata for the files is positively ancient."

A cocked eyebrow. "How ancient are we talking?" Elster said.

"In some cases, so old as to predate human space colonization. Much of it seems to be Old Terran."

"You're kidding," Elster said, tilting her head to the side. She looked down at the manifest. "How could data that old even survive tens of thousands of years?"

"I mean, you're the one who's always saying the Warp works in mysterious ways," Sally shrugged, hands thrown up. "Who knows? That ship might have been lost back during early human exploration. Or something, I don't know."

"Götterdämmerung," Elster muttered, glancing between dataslate and standing drives.

Jenny stomped up. Pressed giant hand to her cheek, curiously. "What are we going to do with such old media, I wonder?"

"I say copy the material and add it to our libraries," Tulip said, stroking her chin. In her mind, she wondered if they had any films or books about ocean-going vessels.

"It would be nice to have some new tunes," Sally said. "Even if it's actually old tunes."

"Agreed," Elster said, nodding. She paused. "...wait..."

Gears turned in her head. Eyes widened.

"...let me listen to these..."

 

"Marceline?"

Chatter filled the cafeteria. Replikas sauntered across the room, casting only brief glances at the table normally staked out by the Stars and Storches.

Artemis leaned away, furrowing her brow. "Why that name?"

The Fledermaus grinned, flashing pearly white fangs. "I read it in a book about vampires!" she chimed, leaning on the table beside the Storch. "Marceline was a legendary vampire queen of ancient Terran stories! A serenading mistress of the night!"

"What's a vampire?" Breach said, cocking an eyebrow. She side-hugged her girlfriend, seated opposite the elder Storch.

"Uh...something that drinks blood, I think?" Ishtar said, scratching her head. She tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. "Undead?"

"Mmrrr...it's because they turn into bats, isn't it?" Artemis groaned, shutting her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're a dork, you know that?"

"And?" the 'Maus said, flashing a toothy grin, her brows furrowed behind her bangs. "It's cool, right?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever..." Artemis sighed, turning her head away. She tried to wave the tiny replika off. "Fine. If 'Marceline''s the name you want, go ahead. You didn't need to report back to me."

"You're the one who made me read all those books!" Marceline huffed, clenching her fists. "You started this!"

"I think it sounds lovely."

'Maus and Storch looked over, watching a Eule approach, locked arm and arm with a Star.

"You think so?" Marceline said, face lighting up.

"Y-yeah, it's distinguished," Trinity said, rubbing her face and smiling uneasily. She cast a sidelong, upwards glance. "Isn't it, D.T.?"

"I can't complain," Double Tap shrugged. She looked at Artemis. "Shortens to 'Marcy' or "Marce'. Good job helping, Art."

"Yes!" the 'Maus cried, leaning over and hugging the elder Storch. "Thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah, alright already," Artemis groaned, reluctantly patting the girl on the head. While watching the girl grin, the Storch's skin crawled. Then she scowled, holding her hand up. "Ew. No, that's definitely not psychosomatic. When was the last time you washed your hair?"

Behind her bangs, Marceline blinked. Frowned. "...uh..."

The rest of the table frowned in disgust.

"...y-yeah, honey," Trinity said, clapping her hands together and giving a polite smile, "y-you need to shower every once in a while. Did no one tell you?"

"Imma cyborg, though," the 'Maus said, tilting her head to the side. "I don't sweat."

"You do on your head, dumbass," Artemis grumbled, poking the girl's forehead for emphasis. "Your hair is oily as fuck. And you collect smells from the environment. You smell like duct oil and old food."

"..." Marceline blinked, then sniffed her shirt.

Everyone looked to Artemis.

The Storch blinked, then slapped her face with her palm. "...for the love of...fine!"

She stood up and grabbed the 'Maus by the shoulder. "Come on."

"Hey! Whoa!" Marceline cried, stumbling as the Storch dragged her from the table. "What's the big idea?"

"Since I need to do everything around here..." Artemis grumbled, stalking toward the door, "...you're coming with me. I'm teaching you basic hygiene. That means a shower!"

The Fledermaus gaped, short legs struggling to keep up with the Storch's stride length.

"...wat."

 

"Alright...let's have a listen..."

Black hand thumbed a portable storage device. Tiny screen flared to life.

As she deposited it into its charging cradle, a wireless signal went out. A set of speakers, nestled in the shadow of bookcases, stirred.

A track, chosen at random, played.

A guitar strummed, an orchestra played, and a Mellotron droned.

"..."

Elster reclined in her desk chair, eyes fixed on a spot above the door.

She listened, as a man's voice filled the repurposed officer's quarters. The song of a long-dead artist, echoed down through the ages. Crooned gently about a normal afternoon.

Chapter 110: Days of Future Passed

Shing.

"Oh, hey boss. Enjoy your jam session?"

Elster pressed a trembling hand to the doorframe, as she staggered inside. Eyes fixed on the middle distance. "..."

"Ha!" Mik'hul chuckled, smiling. "Yeah, you had a blast."

Her dehydrated body ached, throat parched. She knocked back a bottle of water from the kitchen. Didn't even want to check her internal clock, worried how much valuable time she lost. "...gah...hah...get...get T'dora Rougeblood on."

"T'dora?" Mik'hul said, mouths turning quizzically. "I mean yeah, I can do that. But why?"

"Need to have a chat," Elster groaned, rubbing her temples. "Vashtorr won't care either way. But she might."

"O...kay..." Mik'hul said, unsure. "Stand by."

Elster set her water bottle down on top of the cloaking device in the middle of the reactor room, and clapped hands over her ears.

Daemonic machine language filled the space. Pawed aggressively at the walls of the replika's digital systems. She manually overrode their futile attempts to process commands never intended for their kernel or hardware.

The replika commander felt her dehydration headache worsen. She scowled. "..."

After a few minutes, eyes wide and black, Mik'hul opened one of his mouths and extruded a throbbing lump of flesh.

Instead of a trio of rings encircling fiery orifices, a single ring appeared. Within its visceral depths, a purple light shined. A small mouth opened up beneath the eye, lined with thin, needle teeth.

The mouth smiled.

"Heeeey, Ellie!" cried the Daemonette, licking her lips with a dripping, pink tongue. "It's your gurl! What's up?"

"...hah..." Elster sighed, pulling hands from her ears. She pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing. Took up the water bottle again. Forced herself not to make a big deal out of the daemon using Ariane's pet name for her. "...gah...hello, T'dora."

"It's not like you to call me," said T'dora Rougeblood. "How have you been? Get off lately?"

Inhale. Exhale. "...not really any of your business, but..." Elster muttered. She looked up, raising her voice. "T'dora, I have so much to do, and so little time to do it. And I have a headache."

"I knoooow! Isn't it fun?" T'dora drawled, smiling. Seemingly oblivious to - or envious of - the pain in the replika's head.

"Not really," Elster said, furrowing her brow. She needed headache meds, and the daemon's chipper attitude didn't help. "Look, can you do something for me?"

"Oh, I'd love to, Ellie!" cried the Daemonette, vibrating with excitement. "Anything for one of my two current favorite mortals!" Her smile diminished as base rationality kicked in. "I-if I'm allowed, anyway. You know how the boss is..."

"Oh, I know..." Elster breathed. She rubbed her temple. "First, how is Ariane doing?"

"Right now?" T'dora said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. The purple light flickered, as the Daemonette retreated into concentration. "Ari is asleep. I think she woke up for a few minutes since you last visited, but the boss got her back under before she even got off the toilet..."

"...that's good, at least," Elster sighed, knocking back another swig of refreshing water.

Preferably, her lover would be asleep in her bunk, rather than on the lavatory. But hopefully it wouldn't do her lasting harm, at least until she nodded awake again.

"So what do you need, Ellie?" T'dora said. Her face embedded in the wall of flesh wiggled side to side. "Send some well-wishes?"

"Send something, yes," Elster said, crossing her arms. She glanced sidelong at the terminal set in the wall perpendicular to the daemon engine. Crooked her thumb to it. "If I upload some files, can you convert them into physical media in the dream Penrose?"

The Daemonette's glowing eye lit up. "Oooooh! You wanna send your baby gifts? How sweet! Is it nudes? Tell me it's nudes!"

"...hah...no," Elster sighed, eyes shut. "I had different media in mind. Could you do this for me?"

"Oh, I could send all kinds of things, Ellie dear!" T'dora said, voice pitching down seductively. A shade curled down over the purple light in her eye-ring, simulating bedroom eyes. She pursed her lips, switching to baby-talk. "...just...oh, I hate to do this. To you, specifically..."

"...what is it?" Elster groaned, shoulders sagging. She already suspected the answer.

"Well, yes...uh...here's the thing, Ellie," T'dora said, smacking her lips. "Love to do it for free. Really, I would. But...well, you know the rules, and so do I..."

Here it comes..., Elster thought, frowning.

"I can do it for you, but...I gotta charge," T'dora said. She followed up quickly, frowning. "Not a lot! Just a few (hundred) souls, from my debt to yours! A drop in the bucket, I swear! You won't even notice! What'a you say? Do we have a deal?"

Another swig of water. Deep gulps. A few drops escaped, rolling down the replika's chin.

"...hah..." Elster breathed, wiping her chin with the back of her wrist. She looked up, and pointed the neck of the bottle at the Daemonette. "Counteroffer: you do this for me, and I don't tell Ariane about you."

"Gck!" T'dora choked, freezing in place. "...y-...y-you what...?"

"Look. I'm not stupid, T'dora," Elster said, pointing a finger lazily at the daemon. Expression neutral. "I know you watch us. You have to be, the way you appropriate our pet names, or how you can rattle off so specific information on what Ariane is doing." The replika narrowed her eyes. "I know you watch us, especially when we're intimate..."

The Daemonette gulped audibly. Sweat broke out on the lumpy suggestion of a brow. "...well..." she muttered, "...I mean..."

"To be clear, I can't exactly stop you," Elster said, shaking her head with eyes closed. "And to a certain extent, I've...accepted this as the cost of being with Ariane. I can tolerate being watched, if it's for her..."

She cracked open one eye, and gave the Daemonette a knowing look. One that gave the Daemonette pause.

"...I can't say the same..." Elster continued, narrowing her eye, "... about Ariane."

"Ack!" T'dora shuddered, going cold. "...y-you wouldn't...!"

"I have to! It's only right!" Elster said, pointing to the ceiling. "I can consent to being watched, albeit under duress. But Ariane hasn't. She doesn't know." She pressed her hand to her chest. Assumed an expression of credulous innocence. "What kind of girlfriend would I be if I kept that knowledge from her? Ariane has a right to know, doesn't she?"

Elster felt guilty. She knew the Daemonette watched. Knew for years. Yet she continued to love Ariane - in every way - without informing her. Bringing up that fact only deepened the replika's guilt.

She wasn't a good person. Of that, Elster had no doubt. But this fact seemed somehow more vile. A personal crime committed against her lover. A violation of her privacy, her rights.

I'm sorry, Ari, Elster thought, struggling to keep a frown from her face. At least...let this make it up to you...

"Sh-she really doesn't..." T'dora laughed, smiling nervously. The purple light winked out, in simulation of her shutting her eyes. "W-we c-can keep this between us, r-right?"

"Well...that depends, T'dora," Elster said, lowering her voice. It was the replika's turn to give mocking bedroom eyes. "What are you willing to do, to keep me quiet?"

Sweat dripped in buckets down the Daemonette's face. She vibrated furiously, lips pursed in terror. In and of itself, an exquisite feeling, in its excess.

Nonetheless, a disquiet that bordered on panic.

Elster leaned forward. "Vashtorr watching is one thing," she whispered. "She doesn't like it, but I've convinced her that he's a sexless weirdo who tunes out our...moments together. Because it's true." Inclined herself more forward still. "Will she want to keep being intimate, knowing we have a voyeur - a pervert elemental - watching us? Or..."

T'dora, trembling, looked up. A shadow fell over her.

"...will Ariane decide to vow celibacy," Elster breathed, looking down at the Daemonette through half-lidded eyes, "until I get her free? No matter how long that takes..."

"Y-you wouldn't!" T'dora squeaked, shrinking back into the meat wall fractionally. "Y-you love her too much! T-to give up s-s-sex...! For years! Decades, centuries!"

"Oh, T'dora..." Elster said, voice deep. "...I would do anything for Ariane. You should know that by now. If my girlfriend - the light of my life, my goddess - tells me we're not fucking until she gets out, that's the end of discussion."

And it was true. Elster almost longed for it. To confess all. Accept a loss of intimacy, as penance for her secrets. It wouldn't be the first time she made difficult sacrifices, for Ariane's sake.

But for now, the threat was her bargaining chip. It wasn't the first time she'd gone against what Ariane would want, to protect and provide for her, either.

As an improvised flourish, the replika reached out and stroked the lump of flesh simulating the Daemonette's chin.

"Haaaah!" T'dora gasped, shivering at the replika's touch. In pleasure, and terror. Delicious, exquisite terror.

Elster wiped her now sweat-covered hand on the fabric of her jumpsuit. Stood up straight.. "I spend most of my time away from Ariane. I'm used to satisfying my 'needs' alone. And time moves slower for her. I will endure however long Ariane needs me to." She turned around and stalked to the back of the room, in front of the door to Medical. Looked over her shoulder. "Can you?"

Breathing heavily, the Daemonette stared into space. Vibrating, sweating profusely. Purple light shrank to a pinprick. "...hah...ngh...p-please...I-I-I'll d-do any-th-thing you want!" she breathed, eye darting frantically around the room. "J-just...d-don't..." She whispered. "...I need this...pretty please..."

"..." Looking over her shoulder, Elster smiled maliciously. "Good girl."

"Haaaah!" the Daemonette moaned, light winking out as she shuddered. Sucked a ragged breath. "Ooooh. Y-you're so m-mean, Ellie!"

The replika sighed. Looked away. "Oh? And is that a problem for you?"

Panting, T'dora licked her lips, blushing. "N-not at all...I knew I liked you, but...I didn't realize just how dominant you could be!" she growled, shuddering with delight. "You sexy beast!"

"S-so you'll do it?" Elster said, averting her eyes. Skin crawled.

"Y-yes!" T'dora cried, tongue lolling. Breath visible as it issued from her panting mouth. "I'll do anything for you, m-mommy!"

Elster swallowed, oxidizing fluid run cold. She pursed her lips, and stared at the floor with mounting horror. A revolting feeling in her gut.

I think that worked too well. Götterdämmerung.

---

Knock, knock.

"Ngh!" Ariane Yeong snorted, sitting bolt upright on the toilet seat. Looked around the bathroom, bleary-eyed. "Wh's...?"

In the distance, she heard muffled sounds.

Knock, knock.

"Ooh...hold on, 'm coming!" Ariane grumbled, staggering to her feet. She bent over the sink and hastily washed her hands. Yawned against the mirror, eyes blinking.

Knock, knock.

As she staggered from the lavatory, rubbing her eyes, she winced. Massaged a kink in her lower back and neck.

"...nnrmm...stupid crapper..." she mumbled, lamenting falling asleep on the toilet.

 

Knock, knock, knock.

"Okay, okay! I'm here! Don't have to knock so loud..."

Shing.

The gestalt stepped through the doorway into Maintenance. Traced the horizontal calibration pod with her fingers as she passed.

"...fine," Ariane yawned into her palm, resting her eyes. She stood before the wall across from the door, waiting. "What'a you got for me, daemon?"

She peeked one eye open, and paused. "..."

The brass mail slot seemed noticeably larger. Longer horizontally by a number of centimeters, and a few centimeters vertically. At least, by the gestalt's reckoning.

"...was that always that big?" Ariane mumbled, sleepily picking grains of sand from her eyelids.

Click.

The cover popped up of its own accord, as it sometimes did when the gestalt was around.

Instead of a newspaper, though, a different item entirely slipped through. A square of thick cardstock, with a colorfully printed exterior. It rigidly slid out and settled on the floor.

"...eh?" Ariane mumbled, red eyes widening fractionally. Squatted down, pale hands gingerly picking up the package. "The hell...?"

She drank in the cover. Its psychedelic illustration of warm and cool colors, where a face melted with a riot of objects and symbols. A white bar at the top, printed with text...that Ariane found she could read. Despite it clearly written in a foreign language.

Her thumb tucked into a seam at the side. Right where she knew it would be. She recognized its nature at once.

"...can't be..." Ariane breathed, brows rising. Heart raced in confusion.

She pulled the vinyl record from its cover. Thumbed its textured surface.

Click.

"Eh?" Ariane started, face jerking up to see the mail slot flap open again.

Another record flopped out of the opening, landing inelegantly to the floor. Then, another one. And another, and another.

"Wh-what? Hey!" Ariane gasped, crouch-walking over. She reached out to catch the records as they fell. Frantically deposited them, carefully, in a stack in her arms. Lest the cargo be damaged. "S-slow down!"

By the time the flap snapped shut for good, Ariane held a heavy stack of cardstock and vinyl in her arms, a dozen records deep. Some albums multiple disks thick.

"...wha-..." Ariane groaned, wobbling on her knees. She knelt, eyes darting between the mail slot and her sudden bounty. "...this is..."

She spotted, on the last, topmost dust jacket, a tiny paper square affixed by weak glue. It sported a handwritten note.

"[To Ariane,]" it read, in neat calligraphy, "[We found a vast media collection recently. I curated these myself. I hope you enjoy them. More to come. Love, Elster.]"

"..."

The gestalt's gaping mouth turned into a giddy grin. Color rushed to the woman's pale face.

"Eeeee!"

 

"...ah!"

Ariane flinched in surprise, as a voice broke in through what had, until then, been a purely orchestral piece. She sank back down into her bunk, relaxing. "..."

She barely had time to register it, as she followed the speaker's poetic recitation.

Once again, despite the man's foreign speech, she found it entirely explicable.

"...red is grey...yellow white..." Ariane muttered, dreamily repeating the words, "...but WE decide...what is right...and which is an illusion..."

The man went on to speak of the stars in the sky. Of brief interludes. Of...a sun god, bringing light and warmth to the land.

The gestalt exhaled, shivering.

The cycle had just begun. Yet she already found herself overwhelmed.

Ariane clasped her eyes shut. Smiled. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks.

"...thank you, Ellie..."

---

"Four distinct pipelines underpin industrial replika production: Komponenten, Fleischwerke, Einpflanzung, und Konstruktion."

Servitors, menials, and bridge crew milled around the periphery. Footsteps, keyboard taps, and hushed discussion. At the fore, the Cruiser's gigantic windows displayed the rings of Heimat's gas giant.

In the room's center, figures great and small stood around a table. Their faces underlit green, a digital display of the Eusan system spread out before them.

A throne festooned with battered Loyalist marine helmets sat on a raised platform at one end. One gauntleted hand rested idly on a Charnabal saber. The other tapped an armrest, impatient.

Transhuman eyes narrowed, staring across the table. Captain Yngarl Zod rumbled, "Elucidate."

"Of course, my lord," Rebecca said, bowing her head, tapping the dataslate in her hand. She nodded sidelong to the Magos Biologus.

Ithrid Gar returned the nod, inserting a mechadendrite into a port on the table. The display on the table's surface shifted from a view of the Eusan system, to a set of rectangles labeled by titles in the Eusan language. Helpfully subtitled in Imperial Terran, for the benefit of their new Overlord.

With a tap of a button, Rebecca expanded one rectangle. File photos appeared to fill the demarcated space.

"Komponenten, or 'Components'," she said, holding up one finger. Cycled through photos of disconnected, artificial body parts. "Manufacturing the inorganic materials for the replika chassis. Polyethylene covering and skin, nerve endings, metal bones, muscle fiber bundles, Brain-Machine Interface. Even more advanced parts, like artificial eyes, or the processing units that convert excess calories into electrical energy. All must be present. All must be sized to the appropriate chassis."

"Mmrrr..." Zod grumbled, tapping the armrest. "Endeavor to split our production lines between as few types as practical. Understood?"

"Very possible, Lord Zod," Rebecca nodded, tapping her tablet. "The bulk of production can be funneled initially to three chassis types. Two of them of inexpensive, robust construction. The third a power-armored type fit for multiple heavy-industrial purposes. More specialized units can be manufactured at lower production runs, as needed. I've outlined the units I have in mind in the document I forwarded."

Zod nodded, his gen-hanced memory cycling through incomplete, but functional, diagrams of machine bodies. The Astartes needed not fret the details. He waved his hand. "Continue."

A button press. Cycle to another rectangle, and another set of images. These of a distinctly more visceral nature.

The other machine cultist at the table recoiled.

"...ghh...ghastly," Xerxes muttered, turning red photo-receptors away from the table.

"Fleischwerke, or 'Fleshworks'," Rebecca said, smirking sidelong to her left at the cringing Archmagos. She raised two fingers. "The organic components of replika-kind. With access to industrial vats, tissues and organs can be grown in large quantities. It will unfortunately take a great deal of time to build up a working quantity of viable 'seed' tissues, according to each neural pattern. But these will thereafter become self-sustaining organ-farms."

"Flesh of alike genetic type cannot be used across all models?" Zod said, furrowing his brow.

"They cannot, my Lord," Rebecca said, shaking her head. "To maximize chance of successful implantation, force-grown brain tissue must match that of the pattern's gestalt 'donor'. And to prevent rejection, other organs must match that of the brain. While multiple models of replika can be made to use the same chassis, their biological components must be bespoke."

"We seized what appeared to be artificial replika organs from your lab," said the Alpha Legionaire, serpent-headed helmet tucked under his arm. His bald, bronze head cast almost as turquoise as his armor. He stood to the right side of the table. "Can organic organs be substituted, to save time?"

"Manufacturing organs would not save time," Xerxes interjected, staring across the table. "Not without a similar scale of production. Even put to hereteknical purpose, the holy machines cannot be rushed." He looked down and tapped a metal finger against a mechadendrite. "Though it would obviate certain...infection prevention procedures."

"The artificial organs represent temporary, emergency measures, Lord Alpharius," Rebecca sighed, inclining her head back. She pushed her glasses up, glancing right. "The Nation never iterated such technology beyond its initial stages. Didn't consider preserving a single replika unit's life worth the R&D, when they could simply be...'decommissioned'. These parts function for six months to a year, at best, and are typically more uncomfortable and less efficient. Leaving the replika pained and sickly, in turn compromising their productivity."

"I see," Quoi said, squinting one eye. "The savings in initial production are outweighed by the frequency of replacement."

"Agreed," Zod groaned, gritting his teeth in disappointment. "Proceed with your 'Fleshworks' as planned, Doctor."

"Understood, my Lord," Rebecca said. She tapped a button, and cycled to another rectangle. Raised three fingers. "Einpflanzung, or 'Implantation'. The use of Bioresonance - that is, psychic power - to imprint a neural pattern onto a vat-grown brain. Conferring the skills, knowledge, and disposition of a deceased gestalt 'donor' onto the replika. While suppressing the personal memories that render a newly created replika...unsuitable for deployment."

"A singularly fascinating process," Quoi said, lips turning up at the corners.

"Tech-heresy of the highest order," Xerxes seethed, clenching a metal fist.

"The only reason we're even bothering with this song and dance," Zod sighed, inclining his head forward. "You will doubtless require Psykers for this?"

"For the more bioresonant models, yes," Rebecca nodded. "For the mundane units, no. We developed a workaround the Nation lacked."

"Oh?" Quoi said, looking to the biologist. "How so?"

Internally, the Alpha Legionaire felt almost proud when the woman turned her head and smiled.

"Trade secret," Rebecca said, pushing her glasses up so green light reflected off the lenses. Obscured her eyes.

"More tech-heresy, no doubt," Xerxes grumbled, crossing his arms.

The biologist kept to herself that low-grade bioresonant adepts - even herself - could bootstrap progressively higher grades. While she'd gladly permit her 'masters' to expend time and resources rounding up bioresonant individuals, they didn't need to know she was capable of working without them. The less Horus's people knew, the better.

"Finally, of course," Rebecca said, cycling the display again and raising four fingers, "Konstruktion, or 'Assembly'. Where all the disparate parts come together, and the newly implanted replika is activated. This must be followed by a fifth pipeline - Umschulung, or 'Re-Training' - to acclimatize the newborn to their mechanical body. Moreover, to update their existing skillset to their assigned role. While this will, in some cases, need to be expanded further to accommodate the needs of the Imperium's more advanced technology, it is ultimately a training issue rather than a manufacturing one."

"Once again, I leave such matters to your discretion, Doctor," Zod sighed. Gripping the armrests, the giant rose to his feet. Sea-green armor deepened in color from the light of the table. "Have you chosen a location to begin construction?"

"I've a few planets in mind," Rebecca nodded, tapping buttons again. The table shifted away from the collection of file photos, and back to the map of the Eusan system. She cast a sidelong glance left. "I assume the illustrious Archmagos will not be happy to lend the Kitezh orbital fane to-"

"Absolutely not," Xerxes growled, glaring red lights at the woman. "I will not sully the holy fane with your hereteknica..."

"You will do whatever is required of you, Xerxes," Zod scowled, glaring at the tech priest.

"...y-yes, Captain Zod," Xerxes mumbled, withering beneath the giant's gaze.

"I doubt it will be necessary, in any case," Rebecca said, leaning forward to point at the collection of planets on the screen. "Ideally, Compound A will be situated near both materials, and the intended destinations of its new workers. To cut down on time and expense moving either. As such, four planets present themselves: Rotfront, Heimat, Kitezh, and Leng."

The destruction wrought on its floating cities well known, the biologist dismissed Buyan out of hand. Only scattered research stations remained. Vineta, meanwhile, remained so waterlogged as to be inconvenient as a manufacturing hub.

...though not a bad source of salvage, Rebecca said, idly. She frowned. But no. That salvage belongs to the Vinetan sea-enclaves. Let the 'mer-replikas' be a surprise to the Sons of Horus, when the time comes...

"Rotfront is the most ideal on its face," Quoi said, stroking his chin. "Already built up, easy access to materials and finished goods. Not to mention baseline human workers needed to effect construction or modification. And the replikas can be put to work immediately where most needed."

"Despite the heavy build-up of the planet's 'hives'," Rebecca said, scrolling through her dataslate, "many factories on Rotfront once servicing replika production were never repurposed. Their equipment will need to be rebuilt and installed, but the spaces themselves were left vacant." She cast a glance to her left. "Moreover...some of the more rarified facilities are still in use, such as those building caloric micro-generators or artificial eyes. Isn't that right, Archmagos?"

Xerxes froze. He glanced at the Astartes Captain, then averted his gaze. "...h-heretical though its applications were," he muttered, weaving metal fingers together, "I felt no need to destroy perfectly good equipment used in the production of rare and holy technology from the Dark Age."

"Oh certainly," Rebecca said, adjusting her glasses. Eyes narrowed at the Archmagos. "And it had nothing whatsoever to do with exporting these products, to line your own coffers..."

"Heretek witch!" Xerxes hissed, training red eyes upon the biologist. "My motives were nobl-!"

"Enough," Zod growled, gripping his charnabal saber. When the two quieted down, he relaxed his hold. "Continue. The available planets?"

"...ahem...Kitezh has a few manufactora on the surface," Ithrid coughed, rubbing his pale, bald head beneath oxide-red hood. "Few can be spared. But doing so would secure a reliable labor force to bolster agricultural production. A necessary measure, to feed the forthcoming population explosion."

It would also provide ample opportunity for the Clans to pilfer finished parts, Rebecca thought, biting her lip to avoid smiling. Setting my main offices there would keep me in close contact with Ithrid...and my other students.

"I am converting the old Imperial governor's mansion on Heimat into a new fortress," Zod said, turning to glance at the rings of Heimat's gas giant behind him. "Building up the proper anti-air defenses, void shield arrays, and fortifications will be time and labor-intensive. An on-site worker production facility would expedite construction."

It would also make it that much easier for you to watch me, Rebecca thought, casting a weary glance at the Astartes. She furrowed her brow. "Heimat's industrial base still hasn't fully recovered from the Invasion. It may slow down our efforts..."

"..." The Son of Horus frowned, gripping the handle of his Charnabal saber pensively. Turned back to the table. "...hrrm...a fair point."

"Why Leng?" Xerxes mused, red photo-receptors locked on the lonely planetoid on system's edge. "Mining?"

"Essentially, yes," Rebecca shrugged. "I was being thorough. Quick access to raw materials would be good. And its underground facilities and colonies, while few and spread out, were spared the ravages of the Invasion."

Also, she thought, it would keep our activities far from the Captain's eyes.

"The supply lines would be long, however," Quoi said. "Too long for practicality. The whole point is to bolster production for the war effort."

"..." Zod turned from the table, pacing the floor. Glanced occasionally at the map, thinking.

Rebecca eyed the Astartes Captain as he moved. "..."

She turned her head, meeting Ithrid's eyes. The two said nothing. Merely nodded in quiet acknowledgment.

Finally, the Astartes came to a stop, facing away. His red topknot swished from momentum, before settling.

"..."

A sea-green, gauntleted hand rose. Clenched into a fist. The Astartes inclined his head up, and turned fractionally to speak over his shoulder. Eyes bathed in shadow. "Rotfront," Zod said. "Your proof of concept shall be in Rotfront. After that...we'll discuss further expansion." He turned toward the foreward windows, staring at the great rings. His voice turned bored. "You are all dismissed."

Rebecca clapped hands and dataslate behind her back, bowing her head slightly. "As you command, my Lord."

Internally, she breathed a sigh of relief.

First meeting, and I'm still alive. Yay me.

---

"The brain is implanted, and sitting in the chassis. She's ready to go."

Fingers tapped a chunky, beige keyboard. Documents scrolled down a boxy, beige monitor, bathing wall and face with light. A page turned in a binder. Pen scratched a yellow notepad.

Guitar strummed and voice crooned from a speaker, the echo of artists long gone.

"Good," Elster nodded, casting a glance upward. She stuck a pen in her mouth while she typed. Once complete, she removed the pen and scratched another note.

"...you're sure we need these precautions?" Circe said, frowning. She crossed her arms, eyes wandering to study her mother's bookshelves. "She can't be that dangerous, right?"

"Not compared to the 'Maus, you mean?" Elster said, sitting back and closing her eyes. Luxuriated in ancient music. "That's the Null effect talking again."

"I'll admit...you were more a threat to her in the end," Circe sighed, shutting her eyes. Red finger tapped her elbow, in time with the beat. "But we're off topic. Why take so many precautions with the current one?"

Elster inhaled. Exhaled. Let the music fill the air, before cracking open her eyes. "...because unlike the Fledermaus, whose danger is known...this one is built to be unpredictable. Subtle. Dangerous. I don't know if I can trust her."

"She can't do anything that might jeopardize her own survival, right?" Circe said, furrowing her brow. "The nearest other source of replika parts is the length of a segmentum away, through a thousand warzones..."

"That's the problem," Elster shrugged. She leaned forward, resting elbows on her desk. "We can't be totally sure what she'll think. They're...slippery, as we both know."

"...that much is true," Circe said, casting a glance at the floor.

"You always have a surface level awareness of what everyone's thoughts," Elster said, resting one hand atop the other. "I don't think you can rely on that this time."

"Kolibri are stronger bioresonants," Circe said, inclining her head back fractionally. "She can't overpower us. Not singly, and definitely not together."

"You're stronger, yes," Elster nodded slowly. Narrowed her eyes. "But they're more experienced, just as a baseline. More specialized. More...adept at hiding their thoughts...and reading those of others." She rubbed thumb against index and middle fingers. "It's why AEON wanted them..."

"...and why they put them in charge of us," Circe said, frowning. "I'm starting to see what you mean..."

"Well, you're not freshly created replikas, raw and ready to be molded," Elster said, smiling. "You're experienced telepaths, who have bested arcane minds far older and more twisted. I have confidence you and the girls can hold your own."

Circe smiled. "Thanks, mom."

Elster nodded. Her smile faded. "I'm just...making sure we have all our bases covered."

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a pistol. Removed magazine and opened chamber, checking the special ammunition inside. Snapped slide back in place, and replaced magazine.

"...you sure we'll need that?" Circe said, frowning. "I know what you're planning, but...Dash had a point. Can we do without the guns this time?"

The Machine Mother slipped the weapon into its holster. "Like the FDMR," Elster breathed, "it's..."

"Insurance, right?"

Elster threaded her fingers together, and propped her chin up. Looked intensely forward. "...perhaps. Insurance. Maybe...an experiment?"

"...are we ready?" Circe said, swallowing.

"...yes." Elster let the music drone on for a moment, then huffed.

In her mind, she mentally prepared herself, and started drafting Noosphere messages.

"Let's activate that Kranich."

Chapter 111: You Only Live Twice (Minimum)

"...like to thank you for your years of service, comrade."

Ceiling fan spun. Shoes shuffled on orange, shaggy carpet. Incandescent lights flickered.

Lid popped off glass decanter. Golden liquid poured into shot glasses.

"It's been my privilege to serve, comrade," the woman said, smiling politely. She closed her eyes, and held up a hand. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."

"Nonsense," the man said, capping the decanter again. He picked up both glasses, proffering one to the woman. Pearly white teeth displayed in a toothy grin. "We must have a toast, yes? Surely you can do an old friend that favor. Eh, comrade?"

"...oh, I suppose," the woman laughed, tilting her head to the side. She took the drink, smiling.

Behind the smile, she rode the knife's edge of panic.

Do they know? she thought, heart racing. Kept her thoughts hidden behind a layer of mental defenses, in case of telepathic intrusion.

In case her fellow star-browed bioresonant, standing across from her, made a probing pass at her mind. A precaution he, likewise, kept against her. Nothing personal. Just the rules of the game.

The Spies raised their glasses, priceless pre-war spirits glowing amber in the incandescent glow above.

Do they know what I've done?

"A toast!" the man said, white teeth and red forehead stars glinting in the light. His other features almost...muddied and indistinct. "To the Founders, the Nation, the Revolution, and the Death of the Empire!"

"Long live the Revolution."

Clink.

"..." The woman pressed the edge of the glass to her lips and tipped it back. One eye cracked open, tongue damming the alcohol, waiting for her compatriot to drink first.

If the drink contained poison, the man seemed unbothered. He knocked the contents of the glass back in one shot. "Gah!" he gasped, clacking the glass down on the side table. Shook his head. "Good stuff."

"Mmhmm," the woman hummed, permitting herself to swallow a mouthful. Strong, heady. Like engine degreaser, yet with an oaky finish. In a word, Perfection. "...ah...from Vineta, yes?"

"A fine year..." The man's smile fell slightly. He continued, more seriously. "When Kitezh is ours, we will have many more fine years, I'm sure."

"Yes," the woman said, looking over her shoulder. Cast bioresonant senses out, seeking other minds.

Is it really just congratulations? she thought, inhaling the scent of liquor through her nose. Savored the taste. Perhaps they don't know, yet. Perhaps...I can make my excuses, and get away...

"Ha. Still paranoid, my dear?" the man chuckled, pouring himself another glass. "We're perfectly safe here, you know this."

"Oh, I know," the woman lied, smiling and taking another sip. "Guh...old habits, you know?"

"Yes, isn't it always?" he said, casting his eyes down. "The war was long, and it's not even over..."

"..."

The Spies stood quietly. Contemplative. Sipped gingerly on the relic of an earlier, more innocent Eusan.

Now's my chance, the woman thought, narrowing her eyes. She knocked back the last of her drink.

Clack.

"Comrade, I apologize," she said, setting the glass down. The woman smiled, and bowed her head. "It has been lovely catching up. But I really must be going. My train..."

"That won't be..." The man trailed off, shaking her hand. He smiled. "No, comrade. It has been my pleasure working with you."

As their hands disconnected, the woman frowned. Felt the sadness in the man's aura slip through his iron-clad mask.

Or...was the display intentional? Exposing his true feelings?

He looked at her resolutely. "I look forward to working with your successor..."

Creak.

"...!" The woman's heart almost stopped. She saw the door swing open in her peripheral vision, the figure's approach unsensed. Invisible. Hand snap drew her concealed pistol. Where did-?

POP.

The world before her eyes cracked. A mirror broken, reflecting darkly.

"...ack!" she gasped, hand clutching her chest. Her pistol, drawn a second too slow, slipped from her fingers.

She looked down in horror. Her hand came away scarlet.

"..."

Her vision fuzzed around the edges.

"Oh, for the love of the Founders," the man groaned, frowning. His form bifurcated by a crack in reality, face running like an impressionist painting. "Just finish it, will you? She doesn't deserve to suffer like this. It's...degrading."

The woman, coughing blood into her trembling hand, turned her head. Eyes widened, as a ringing filled her mind.

Gunsmoke wafted from a pistol, held in the hands of a figure of absolute, crushing darkness. A bottomless abyss...in the silhouette of a teenage girl.

The woman's breath drawn into that hole in reality, like a decompressing spaceship. A second later, her abandoned pistol followed it, swallowed by the black.

A vague suggestion of a foot stepped forward. Impossibly dark thumb cocked the hammer back.

"...mmm!" the woman moaned, staggering back a step. Her hair whipped around, drawn by the sucking force. "MMMMM!"

The sting in her chest nothing to the icepick in her mind. The shadow-form rebuked and stifled her bioresoance, which recoiled and retreated inside her in fear and revulsion.

"My apologies. Don't worry, comrade," the man said, as the void to their side seemed to expand impossibly. He raised a glass, as fragments of shattered reality came loose and flew into the abyss. Exposed an infinite sea of stars behind the backdrop of creation. "Feel honored! You'll have endless opportunities to serve the Nation going forward! For the Revolution!"

"..." Heart racing, the woman despaired. A tear ran down her cheek.

Though a Traitor herself, the treachery still stung. No, worse than treachery. Cold pragmatism.

Somewhere within the roiling mass of nothing that dominated her view, she heard the distant strum of strings.

POP.

---

Wake up.

Pistons pumped. The fading afterimage of systems boot-up sequence. Steam lightly brushed face.

Somewhere in the background, notes from a string quartet issued from a speaker.

"...ngh..."

For the first few seconds, the newborn knew only a calm, if groggy, peace.

Then, as her brows furrowed and air sucked into lungs, the woman stopped her hand halfway to her face. Inside, her mind grasped for the fading wisps of a bad dream.

Beneath a trio of red stars, her eyes shot open. "...!"

Where...where am I?, she thought, wincing at the light. Eyes dilated in the glare. What...was my mission? Why am I...standing upright?

She shielded her face with her hand. Mind raced to recall...anything. Mission parameters, targets, locations, contacts, aliases...anything...

...why..., she thought, heartrate elevated, eyes widening, ...why...can't I...?

"Oh good, you're awake."

"..." The newborn froze. Peeked one eye between splayed fingers.

The bleary room came into focus. A mechanical workshop. No, a replika workshop. Walls hung with disembodied arms and legs. Metal skulls, freshly machined and awaiting paint.

A replika stood in the middle of the room. Arms crossed. A toolbelt hung from her waist. A scar between her eyes.

"Guten Morgen," the LSTR unit said, smiling. "Und Alles Gute zum Geburtstag."

Analytical mind whirred to life. The newborn studied the combat engineer model. Brushed back a black, errant lock of hair from her face. Then, looked at her hand, as if seeing it for the first time.

Because she was. Coal black, with a rectangular white patch on the back. She faintly heard the click of new, stiff mechanical joints beneath a layer of touch-receptive pseudo-skin.

"..." She touched her face again. Felt the trio of stars on her brow, inverted from where muscle memory told her they ought to be. Felt a seam on her cheek, the bridge of her nose, and on her chin.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no!, the newborn thought, eyes widening fractionally. I'm not...I cannot be...

"...are..." the LSTR unit said, frowning, brows furrowed, "...are you okay?"

"..." The newborn snapped attention. Clenched her fist. Eyes darted to the replika.

She smiled. "...yes. My apologies."

"Oh?" the LSTR said, inclining her head back. "...okay. Good. Do you...need help getting out?"

Getting out?, the newborn thought, before looking around and down at her feet. No, scratch that. Her hooves.

Her heart raced. Blood - no, oxidizing fluid - ran cold.

"...no, that's quite alright!" she said, automatically. Conditioned response. Tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes warmly. She looked down, and carefully lifted a leg. Studied the new hoof.

Inside, a horrified shiver ran up her spine. She kept her expression placid.

They must not know, the newborn thought, planting a hoof resolutely on the grated floor.

"Are you sure?" the LSTR unit said, leaning forward. "It's alright if you're unsteady. Most newborns are."

A mote of fear ran through the newborn's mind. Shit! I shouldn't be acting confident. If that makes me come off as unusual...idiot! Rookie mistake!

"You can use the handholds if you need to," the LSTR unit said, gesturing to her right. "Or if you need my help..."

"I-I've got it!" the newborn said, smiling. Voice peaked higher than she intended. She spied a metal railing to her left, within reach of the calibration pod. Its vertical supports bolted (magnetized?) to the metal floor. Clinging to the side of the pod, she wobbled her way out. Legs shook like a newly birthed deer. She stumbled onto the railing, hands clutching for dear life. "Ah!"

"Very good!" the LSTR said, clapping softly. Smiled. "There's a stool right there, if you need it."

"..." The newborn blinked, then blushed furiously. Inclined her head forward, struggling to prevent a smile turning into a scowl.

I'm a full grown woman, dammit! she thought, shaking impotently. Don't patronize me!

Taking a deep breath, the newborn hobbled her way to the end of the rail, hooves clacking inelegantly on the floor. "Ngh!" she grunted, one hand swiping at a metal stool in front of her. Just out of reach. "C-come on..."

"You're sure you don't need help?" the LSTR unit said, tilting her head to the side. She took a step forward. "Here, I can..."

"Oh no, I'm fine! I'm f-fine!" the woman chimed, smiling. Face red, screaming internally. She waved the elder replika off. "Just...getting my legs under me!"

She shuffled along the rail another handspan, and managed to grab the lip of the stool. She leaned on it, huffing. "S-see? No problem!"

"..." The LSTR smiled. "If you're sure. Give me a moment, while you get settled." She walked to a side table, turning away.

While the engineer unit was distracted, the Spy let her smile drop. Leaning on the stool and rail, she turned her head around frantically. Finally submitting to a soul-deep urge.

The urge to fully scope out her surroundings.

One...two exits? she thought, eyeing the door on the grated wall behind the calibration pod. She looked to the ceiling. ...one security camera. How many are present in this...facility? Orbital station? Spaceship?

Her heart beat faster. A bead of sweat broke out on her brow.

She had no idea where she was. Much less...whose side these people were on.

Nor, indeed, who or how many sides there were. Much less whom she...rather, her gestalt, worked for.

"Hang on..." the LSTR said, holding a clipboard. "Let me just..."

"..." The Spy took a seat, watching the other replika.

Saw the woman remove a pistol from a holster on her belt and set it on the table.

The newborn eyed it. Eyes dilated. Sharp inhalation. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Alright, let's get us started," the LSTR said, turning back to the newborn with the clipboard in hand. Put on a smile of her own. "First, allow me to introduce myself. I am LSTR-512, commander of the Nomarch 06 and..." She inclined her head down sheepishly. "...your new boss. Just call me Elster. Everyone does."

"A pleasure to meet you, Elster," the newborn chimed, smiling and bowing her head.

Just Elster, really? she thought, sardonically. What kind of operation is this, when the commander is a replika named after her model? She narrowed her eyes fractionally, looking down. Her heart still beat fast. No, no, obviously a lie. Or a trick. But...to what end? What's the angle?

"Next, implantation test," Elster said, nodding. "Can you recall your designation?"

The Spy blinked. Stared at the woman. "...you mean my name?"

"Yes."

"Of course, I..."

The Spy looked down at her hands, placed neatly in her lap. Is...is this some kind of test? I don't...

"...uh...my name is..." she breathed, frowning. "...KNCR-N0601?"

Does this mean I'm the first of my model? she thought, pensively. Or just the first in this facility? Whatever this facility is...

"Very good," Elster nodded, making a note. "Designation implantation successful."

...the hell is a KNCR unit? the Spy thought, furrowing her brow. Mind groped inward, rifling through operational memory still availed to her. In frustration, she came up empty. This is bullshit! KNCR isn't a replika unit designa-

She shut her eyes. Took a deep breath.

Of course it's not a designation you know, idiot, she chided herself. A spot of color rushed to her cheeks, mortified. They killed you...her...to make the KNCR. But why? What skillset do we bring to the table, that isn't found elsewhere?

She was halfway through listing replika units she could remember, when the LSTR continued.

"Now, Kranich 01, this is all going to seem strange to you," Elster said, flipping through her pages. She looked up and smiled. "I can assure you, we'll get you sorted out right away. It will just take...uh...a bit of explaining." She averted her gaze, unsure.

"Kranich? Is that what I am?" 01 said, pressing a hand to her cheek in faux astonishment. She smiled. "How lovely! To be a crane!"

"Glad you like it," Elster said. She looked up suddenly, staring into space. "..."

"..." Smiling quizzically at the 'commander', the Kranich tilted her head to the side. She looked away, furrowing her brow.

While this...whatever she's supposed to be...is distracted..., she thought. Looking inward, she flinched in surprise, as she unintentionally shifted to a digital interface. "Eh?" she breathed, lowering her voice as not to be heard.

She blinked, unseeing, as she swapped between pages. A note taking program. An overhead map (consisting, presently, of only the one room). A digital file outlining the KNCR unit maintenance guide.

"Another moment, if you wouldn't mind," Elster muttered, raising an index finger, still staring into space.

...explore this later, she thought, backing out of the menus. Artificial eyes blinked back to material reality. Traveled sideways to the table again. To the handgun. Then to the LSTR unit. "..."

Heart raced. Hands clenched together. Body fought to remain still. She stared at the handgun again.

...no..., the Spy thought, tearing her eyes away reluctantly. Not yet. Exhaust other options first.

One avenue remained unexplored. The Kranich opened her mind.

Her perceptions radiated out. Listened for the shine - telltale song - of an intelligent mind. Or at least a sapient one.

Walls and floors seemed to melt away, exposing bioresonant signatures. Some bright, some dim. Most too far away to really hear their thoughts.

Three at the door. Three, four, five in surrounding rooms, the Kranich thought, pursing her lips. She leaned forward fractionally, focusing. Two above, one below. Three...no, four groups patrolling the halls. We're very much not alone here.

She thought she detected a stronger bioresonant signal, but it winked out just as quickly as it appeared. A shiver ran up the Spy's spine.

Did that mind sense her probing attempt? Was...was she being observed, and she didn't realize it?

Hands gripped the seat of her stool, as her heart began to race. She looked up at the LSTR unit.

"...hmm..." Elster nodded to herself, staring at the ceiling.

The Kranich narrowed her eyes at the 'commander'. The engineer couldn't just be stupid. No, no, there was communication going on. Radio module? Instructions fed by the true commanding officers?

The Spy projected her bioresonance forward. Arm extended, fingers groped toward the figure's mind. Sought the distracted woman's thoughts.

Instead, she felt her fingers impact a solid wall. A shell, cocooning the LSTR's mind from intrusion.

What? the Kranich thought, eyes widening fractionally. A barrier? But LSTR units aren't biores-

Almost the moment she made the attempt, the Kranich locked eyes with the 'commander'.

"..." Elster blinked, staring at the newborn. Then, smiled. Well hello. Aren't you a curious one?

"...!" The Kranich flinched, smiling nervously. Heart skipped a beat. "...m-m-my apologies!"

This LSTR has bioresonant power! she thought, oxidizing fluid gone cold. Enough to know!

"It's quite alright," Elster said, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm very familiar with bioresonant replikas. You don't know what's going on, and you're experimenting with your gifts. It's perfectly normal."

"...heh heh...yes..." the Kranich laughed, closing her eyes. Bowed her head. "A thousand pardons."

Internally, the Kranich screamed.

They're going to decommission me, she thought, chest pounding. A pall of dread falling over her. I'm going to die. I'm going to die, and I won't even know...

"Are you hungry?" Elster said, chiming in. "Thirsty?"

"...uh..." the Kranich said, pulled from her panicked reverie. She flashed a smile. "Sure! Why not? I could use some refreshment."

"Very well," Elster nodded, the clipboard dropping to her side. She turned around, and stalked away. Walked to a worktable against a wall. Its surface covered in a coffee maker of distinctly foreign design, an electric kettle, and low shelves full of ration bars. "Coffee? Tea? Protein bars? Granola?"

"Coffee, please," the Kranich sighed, slumping forward slightly. "Cream and sugar, if you wouldn't mind."

Despite herself, the aching NEED for caffeine thrummed down through her body. Even though her new organs and brain hadn't developed an addiction to the substance - yet - the memory was enough to excite her. It almost made her forget the mounting, existential dread settling into her metal bones.

Almost.

"Coming right up," Elster said, setting up a mug on the counter. She picked up a pot brimming with dark liquid and belching steam. A batch brewed specifically for the newborn. "One sugar packet? Two?"

"Two," the Kranich said, weakly. But she barely listened. She cast a furtive glance toward the LSTR unit, then to her left.

Toward the table in the middle of the room. Toward the pistol.

Adrenaline saturated her veins.

"...hmm..." Elster sighed, emptying a few ounces of artificial creamer into the mug.

Finding real dairy, this far out on the periphery, this far into the Civil War? Virtually impossible. Not unless they came across a planet too remote to see fighting. Or a derelict ship arriving so recently their perishable stores hadn't-

Clack, clack, clack. Scrape!

"Ack! Fach..."

"Hmm?" Elster raised her head, mixing spoon in hand. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder. "Please don't move around too much, 01. You'll hurt your-"

She turned, looking down the barrel of a handgun. Her handgun.

The Kranich, propped shakily on the worktable, leveled the weapon from across the room with one hand. She glared, no longer smiling.

"Don't move. Don't make a sound."

Chapter 112: The Replika with the Golden Gun

"...huh."

The replika commander blinked, cocking her head to one side. Expression unperturbed.

Brandishing the commander's gun at her, the Kranich frowned. Glanced down at the LSTR unit's belt, then up at the security camera. "Call your people off. They're not to enter this room."

"...hmm," Elster huffed. She shrugged, and pulled the radio from her tools. Thumbed it on. "Dash, it's me. Don't freak out."

"Mom, what the fuck!?" growled the voice on the other end of the line, through a filter of static. "You brought the pistol agai-!"

...mom? the Kranich thought, cocking an eyebrow in bewilderment. She looked the replika 'commander' once over. What have I walked into?

"I know, I know," Elster said, calmly. "Sweetie, just...make sure the girls at the door don't rush in. I can handle this."

"...what the entire fuck!?" cursed a Star from behind the workshop door. Hooves clacked, as they pressed themselves against the walls outside.

"Sweeties, don't come in!" Elster called, inclining her head back. "I'll be fine."

"...götterdämmerung," the eldest Star grumbled through the static. "Remain in place, girls. That's an order." Her voice raised. "Hurt one hair on her head, bitch, and you're dead!"

"..." The Kranich narrowed her eyes. "Turn it off."

Elster sighed, and thumbed the radio button. Static cut out. She placed it on her belt, and looked back at the newborn. "...you don't have to do this, you know."

"Be quiet," the Spy said, frowning. She jerked her new pistol. "Hands up."

"No, I don't think I will," Elster said, calmly, without missing a beat. She kept her hands loose at her side.

"Wh-...what?" the Kranich said, narrowing her eyes in confusion. Her entire thought process derailed. "No, you will raise your hands, now! I have the gun!"

"And?" Elster said, inclining her head back. She glared into the newborn's eyes.

The Kranich's face assumed a placid appearance, a trained response to the shudder of dread running up her spine. She wasn't able to stop the quick flare her nostrils.

...what...what is this feeling? she thought, a bead of sweat rolling down her brow. How...can this woman respond to certain death with such...?

The Kranich took a breath. Smiled. "Enough bluffing. We're doing this my way now."

"Suit yourself," Elster shrugged. "What do you want?"

"You're going to tell me everything I want to know," the Spy said, scowling. "Where I am. Who you are. Who's REALLY in charge. Whose side you're on. Why I was...created..."

Elster blinked, maintaining a hard expression. "You didn't need the gun for that," she said. "I was going to tell you everything anyway."

"Lies," the Kranich said, shaking her head. She sported a new smile, a delirious smile. She chuckled. "Heh heh. No one is so forthcoming. Everyone lies. Everyone is playing some...fucking game."

"..."

The Kranich scowled. "Tell me who I am!" she barked, jabbing the pistol forward. "Right now!"

"I'm afraid I don't know your gestalt's name," Elster said, stoically. "Put the gun down, and we'll discuss this like adults. I promise you won't be hurt."

"Liar!" the Kranich shouted, baring her teeth. Her heart raced. Legs wobbled. A lock of short, black hair fell across her face. "...tell me...now."

Without waiting, she projected her mind at the LSTR unit. Reaching, invading. Attempting to wrench the knowledge from the 'commander's' brain.

"Ngh," Elster groaned, wincing.

"...!" the Kranich's eyes widened, feeling her assault rebuffed. A wave crashed against a cliff. She rallied, swarming forward. Like water, attempting to finagle herself into any crack or crevice in the woman's mental defense.

...everything...leaks, Elster thought, sardonically. Pressed a hand to her head, gritting her teeth.

"...give...up..." the Kranich growled, body shaking from the exertion. "You're...strong. I'll give you that. But not strong enough."

She doesn't need to be. She's not alone.

"...!" The Kranich's eyes widened in surprise.

In the mindscape, she saw the LSTR. And behind her, five shadowed figures. Their presences enormous. Giants silhouetted against the cosmos, eyes burning like stars.

They glared at the newborn. She gulped, shrinking in on herself. Felt united forces dwarf her.

"Hah!" the Kranich gasped, stumbling back. She gritted her teeth, pistol wavering in her grasp. "...who...who are you people?"

"This doesn't need to go on," Elster said, softly. Removed her hand from her head, staring soberly. "We can help you. And we need your help. Put the gun down." She reached out a hand, and took a step forward.

"Stay away!" the Kranich barked. Instead of firing, eyes darting to the door, she lashed out with her mind.

"Ngh!" Elster groaned, clutching her head again.

"Mom, are you good!?" cried one of the Stars at the door. From behind the wall, more and more hooves approached. An entire team formed up at the entrance, ready for insertion. Their minds radiated an intent to kill, undercut by worry. "Mom!"

"Hah...hah...I'm fine..." Elster panted, standing up. She inclined her head back, and took a deep breath. "...01. Stop this now." She opened her eyes and stared at the Kranich seriously. "Or things are about to get much more painful. I don't want that, and you don't want it either. Just...put the gun down. We can talk."

The Spy, panting and sweating, felt around her mouth with her tongue. Probed, by habit, to a particular tooth. She exhaled, failing to find a seam in the false tooth she knew, without knowing, should be there.

Of course they wouldn't install a cyanide capsule in my mouth, the Kranich thought, bitterly. Brows furrowed in pain. What was I thinking?

Taking a deep breath, she set her expression, and took the pistol in both hands. Leaned against the worktable with her hip, for stability. "No."

"..." Elster sighed. "Fine." Inclined her head back, and called, "Marcy! You're up!"

Widening her eyes, the Kranich glanced at the 'commander', then turned her pistol toward the door. Spread her mind out, searching for the person outside who would mentally answer to the name 'Marcy'.

Chunk!

"Ah!" the Kranich gasped, freezing up, as a ceiling vent behind her swung open.

"Finally! Took you long enough!"

A sharp buzz. Complete cession of bioresonant sense, smothered under a wool blanket. An icepick jammed in the mind.

"Haah!" the Kranich gasped, stumbling in her haste to turn. Her hip crashed into the metal railing, as both pistol and eyes trained up to the ceiling. "...aaah...!"

"Sup?" Marceline said, head poking upside down from an open vent. Brown hair hung loose, exposing dark eyes that stared lazily at the Spy. Teeth sharp, incisors elongated.

From the depths of her memory, the Kranich's mind summoned a vision of a dark, abyssal figure from a nightmare she half-remembered. A creature of primordial annihilation, come to deliver death. A void so deep, it swallowed all light and sound, all bioresonance.

As color drained from her face, the Spy felt a fear that went beyond simple fight or flight. An existential, and deeply familiar, terror. That she was going to die, just as she had perished once before.

"AAAARGH!" the Kranich screamed, falling back over the railing. She tumbled end over end, crashing to the metal floor.

"Shit..." Elster groaned, holding her arms out. "Easy, easy!"

"What's going on!?" cried a Storch outside the room.

"I got it, I got it!" Marceline said, grabbing hold of the edge of the vent. "Oop!" she said, pulling her legs out, and landing on her hooves. With a single headbang, her bangs flopped in front of her eyes. "Nailed it."

"Haah...haah!" The Kranich, sitting up frantically, tried to crawl away. Eyes wild, face pale, she raised the pistol again and pointed it at the ghastly newcomer. "S-s-stay back!"

"..." The Fledermaus glanced at the panicked figure, then looked to her mother. Frowned. "You sure it's...?"

"I'm sure," Elster nodded. "We're perfectly safe. Just...go easy on her, okay?"

"Don't know what you expect, but..." Marceline shrugged, stretching her arms over her head. She waved her hands to her sides, and trudged around the worktable. "If you're sure."

"I said stay back!" the Kranich barked, jabbing the pistol again. Hooves scraped helplessly against the grated floor, before she managed to push herself toward the calibration pod. Her head throbbed in time with each hoofstep of the approaching 'Maus. She gasped, shaking, "D-don't come any closer!"

"..." Eyes hidden by hair, Marceline stalked slowly, deliberately forward. Placed a hand on the railing.

"I'm warning you!" the Kranich yelled, pulling the pistol close to her chest and aiming at the encroaching darkness with both trembling hands. "Don't!"

"Hoop!" The Fledermaus hopped onto the railing, shining metal claws sliding from their sockets to grip. She squatted, elbows propped on her knees, on her new perch. "..."

"...get away..." the Kranich mumbled, mouth agape. Pistol shook violently in her grasp. "...please..."

The Fledermaus leaned forward, and reached out a hand.

"I SAID STOP!" the woman screamed, clasping her eyes shut. She squeezed the trigger.

Click.

"Hah!?" the Kranich gasped, eyes opening. She looked down at the pistol, confused. "...no...no, no, no!"

"...hmm..." Marceline hummed, a tension released from her chest. Dropped to the floor. Claws dug into grating, as she knelt. Stared eye-level with the woman.

Click. Click. Click.

"...please..." the newborn wheezed, trembling. Eyes watery, dilated. Finger dry-firing the handgun over, and over, and over. She whined, "...go away..."

"...hmm..." Marceline stroked her chin, hearing the weapon click impotently. "...nah."

The Fledermaus reached for the bioresonant replika.

"NO!" the Kranich screamed, turning away and throwing her arms over her head. "STOP! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

The Fledermaus froze, hand outstretched. A shiver ran up her spine. "..."

Tears ran down the newborn's cheek, as the baleful screeching in her mind reached a fever pitch with each centimeter the creature drew near. She sobbed, "...please...please..."

"..." Marceline lowered her arm, frowning. Behind her bangs, her brows furrowed sadly.

"Marcy. That's enough."

The Fledermaus looked over her shoulder, then nodded. "Sure," she said quietly, hopping back up on the railing.

"Hah...hah...hah..."

Weeping openly, the newborn peeked around her arms, watching the commander approach. Eyes glanced fearfully toward the 'Maus, then up.

"Give us a bit more space, okay?" Elster said, looking sidelong at her daughter.

"Sure," Marceline nodded, and climbed off the railing. Trudged away, casting one last sad glance at the distraught woman.

"...wh...what is...that?" the Kranich mumbled, trembling. She tucked her knees against her chest, face wet and salty. "Hah...hah..."

"I'm sorry," Elster said, crouching down. Looked at the weeping woman, sadly. "I'm sorry about all of this. But I wasn't lying. We don't want to hurt you."

"..."

The Spy looked apprehensively at the replika before her. Then, she held up the pistol. Slid the magazine out. Inspected the ammunition.

"...b-blanks?" the Kranich wheezed, staring at the useless weapon in her hands. She looked at the LSTR unit, voice weak. "It...i-it was a trap? All along?"

"...an...experiment," Elster said, resting her forearms on her knees. "I was...curious when your paranoia would start acting up. So I gave you an opportunity to...act on it, in a controlled setting." She smiled sheepishly. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd actually do it. I'm sorry."

"..." The Kranich blinked, cheeks wet with rivulets of tears. She stared at the commander. Then, set pistol and magazine down. Looked to the floor, face contorted in pain and...disappointment? "...am I...hic...so predictable?"

Elster raised a hand, then frowned. "...is it...alright if I touch you?"

"..." The Kranich glanced up at her, then at the floor. Hugged herself, trying to stifle a sob. Voice damp, chest heaving. "...alright..."

Elster smiled, and patted the newborn's shoulders. "It's okay if you want to cry more. We won't think less of you."

The newborn crossed her arms, and buried her face in them. Sucked a ragged breath, shivering. Mumbled.

"...I...I'd like that coffee now...please..."

 

"...am I going to be decommissioned?"

Built by the Eusan Empire so many years ago, the Nomarch 06 housed a single, cramped holding cell. Everything about the Nomarch was cramped, but the room meant to contain unruly or drunk crewmates especially compact. A toilet, shower, and wash-station crowded one corner.

The newborn sat on the edge of the cot, elbows propped on a small card table. A wool blanket draped over her shoulders. Hands warmed around a steaming mug.

"...we don't do that here," Elster said, setting a stack of beige, manila file folders on the table. She looked over her shoulder, at the Star staring daggers through the window at their prisoner. The replika commander looked back, frowning. "...though Dash wanted to make an exception, after...what happened back there..."

"I apologize," the Kranich croaked, bowing her head. Stared at her reflection in the coffee, studying the three inverted stars on her forehead. Her eyes puffy, voice deflated. "I don't...know what came over me..."

Not entirely true. She wanted answers, and took steps to force them. But to jump directly to threats, even psychic violence? In retrospect, wildly out of proportion. Especially when...she had no idea where she was, or to whom she could get help.

"..." Elster stared stoically at the poor woman for a moment, then opened the first folder in front of her. Flipped through pages. "...'KNCR units represent a formative step in the Eusan Nation's exploration of bioresonance, and a valuable command and surveillance asset besides'..."

The newborn looked up sharply. Eyes widened fractionally, as she stared at the documents in the commander's hands. "..."

"'Trained in surveillance, counter-intelligence, interrogation, infiltration, psychology, and subterfuge, the Kranich benefits from its original neural pattern's years of experience in spycraft, asset management, and social control. Just as the Nation benefits from their loyalty to the party, their consummate professionalism, their gregarious demeanor, and their mastery of social cues.'..." Elster turned the page. "...'Moreover, what this bioresonant unit lacks in raw power, they make up for in experience and skill. Able to slip beneath mental defenses with little effort, and without leaving traces of telepathic intrusion. Templated on a gestalt of age and confidence, they make ideal controllers for bioresonant units of lesser experience and strength of will. A reliable, if middling, Oberkommindatin.' End quote."

Middling? the Kranich thought, furrowing her brow. She shook her head, and rubbed her eye. "...wh-...what's the providence of this information?"

"This," Elster said, waving the page up and down, "is the KNCR unit overview granted to AEON officials of the Eusan Nation, instructing how to handle and effectively use their Kranichs. That is to say, you."

"The Eusan Nation?" the Kranich mumbled, wincing in concentration. She inclined her head up, raising her voice. "How...did you acquire this? Are you a commander in AEON? If so...are you allowed to quote these documents to me?"

"In order," Elster sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "It's our 'home country'. With great difficulty. No, I'm very much not affiliated with AEON or the Nation. And absolutely not, AEON strictly forbid replikas having access to their own unit files."

Perhaps from exhaustion, it took a moment for the newborn to parse these answers. She steepled her fingers, thinking. "...okay...okay, I..." The Kranich looked uneasily at the replika commander. "...I suddenly know significantly less about this situation than I thought. And...I knew almost nothing when I woke up today."

"There's more," Elster said, shuffling the papers in her hands.

"Of course," the Kranich sighed, burying her face in her arms. "...continue..."

"Ahem...'KNCR Known Issues'..." Elster continued.

"Mmrrr..." the newborn groaned, turning her head sideways to peek up at her captor.

"...'While social, Kranich units maintain clear boundaries between professional and personal life. Stress and idleness are known to foster paranoia in Kranich units over time. Giving Kranich units a target to surveil, such as immediate superiors, inferiors, or specific civilians, can productively channel their suspicious energies. Access to violins also stabilize them, forestalling Persona Degradation'..."

The Kranich held her breath, looking away. Her heart raced. "...am I...degrading?"

"Persona Degradation is AEON's term for replikas acting outside expectations," Elster said, frowning. "Anything from finding love to developing a new outlook to just having a nervous breakdown was grounds for declaring a replika degraded, and thus warranting decommission." She smiled. "Like I said, we don't do that here."

"No...no, I think...there's something actually wrong with me," the Kranich said, sitting up. She held her hands out, sweat forming on her face. "I-I...it's happening too soon! I can't...I'm..."

Elster held up a hand. "Hold that thought," she said. Raised the papers again. "...'Known Issues Addendum: Further research reveals a disconcerting truth. The paranoia is not a sudden development.'..."

"..." The Kranich's brows rose. Her mouth clapped shut. Body shivered.

"...'the Kranich neural pattern suffers paranoia from day one,'" Elster said, glancing up to meet the newborn's eyes. "...'Kranich units have proven more adept at hiding inner thought processes than AEON analysts realized. Mitigate persona degradation as above, but exercise caution and observe all Kranich units closely. It is paramount this observation be as subtle as possible, as believing themselves under scrutiny may accelerate degradation. Unmanaged paranoia has, in rare cases, escalated into Kranich units actively plotting against the Nation, and/or escape attempts. It should go without saying a rogue telepath, believing herself in danger (real or imagined), can do enormous damage before discovered and forcibly decommissioned.'...End quote."

"..."

The Kranich stared down at the table. Hands shook. She sniffed.

"...are you okay?" Elster said softly, leaning forward.

"...heh...heh heh..." the Kranich laughed nervously, cracking a weary smile. "Y-you know it's funny," she breathed, rubbing her eye. "I-I don't know if I should be proud of my...sisters, I suppose, for being able to pretend to have it all together for years, without detection..." She sat up, sniffing, body shaking. A breakdown restrained by a hard sniff, and the most forced smile in her repertoire. And only just. "...or a-sh-shamed...that I broke on my first day."

Elster held her hands out, plaintively. "Easy, easy," she cooed, waving down gently. "It's alright. You don't need to feel ashamed. I...I was the one who set you up with the gun, just...to see how long it would take for you to..."

"T-to what?" the Kranich gasped, staring at the table. Tears crept to her eyes again. "To betray you all?"

"...yes," Elster nodded. Brows furrowed sadly. "You're a spy by nature. An agent of a government I hated. I...couldn't be totally sure how you'd react. Nor...how long you might go before acting."

Taking a big sniff, the Kranich buried her face in her hand. Shook her head. "No, no...I get it..." She peeked through her fingers, smiling. It was a weaker, but somehow more natural, smile. Tinged by sadness. "...you're too honest for your own good."

Elster shrugged. "I don't believe in founding a relationship on a bed of lies," she said. Highly cognizant of the irony of her statement. "You deserve to know the truth."

No one deserves to know the truth, the Kranich thought, chuckling to herself. She wiped tears from her face. "...what else does that document say?"

"...lots of technical things," Elster said, flipping through. "Chassis specs. Maintenance. How to..." She looked at the ceiling, then sighed. "...how to 'decommission' a Kranich once they've either gone rogue or are suspected of such."

"Well go on," the newborn wheezed, rubbing her scalp, "don't keep us in suspense. How?"

"Most involve a sniper in some way," Elster said, matter-of-factly. "Or tactical explosives."

"To eliminate the jumpy bioresonant adept from outside telepathic range, or via non-thinking means," the Kranich said, nodding. "Yes, that's...probably what I'd do, too."

"There's also some redacted note that amounted to 'sic the Fledermaus at it'," Elster said, holding a hand up. "But that was posted at high security clearance."

"...it's that girl out there, isn't it?" the Kranich mumbled, looking out the holding cell window. Past the Star guards, through the door. "I can feel her from here."

"Are you uncomfortable?" Elster said, frowning. "I can tell Marcy to back up further."

"I'm...fine..." the Kranich half-lied. She could feel the...abyssal creature's presence, pressing against the edge of her senses. Close enough to itch, far enough to let her actually think. She rubbed her scalp, and glanced at the replika commander. "...what...IS she?"

"...to the Nation, a weapon," Elster said, looking over her shoulder at the door. Looked back to the newborn. "To me...my daughter."

"You're bioresonant, though," the Kranich said, narrowing her eyes. "How? How can you stand to be around her?"

"I've endured many unendurable things in my three lives," said Elster Thrice-born. She smiled at the newborn's quizzical look. "...she's a handful. But...she's a funny girl, when you get to know her."

The newborn wheezed. Her smile diminished. "I'm...going to be spending a lot of time around her, aren't I?"

"So long as there's no trouble, no," Elster said, shaking her head. "I'd rather you an ally, than a prisoner."

"Why me?" the Kranich said, frowning. She rubbed her eye again. "Why a...defective spy like me?"

"Because I need your help," Elster said, flatly. "But I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

"What do you have to offer?" the Kranich said, propping her cheek up on her upturned arm.

"I'll tell you everything," Elster said. "Where we are. What we're doing. What's happened since...well..."

"Can you tell me what my..." The Kranich shut her eyes, and took a sharp breath. "What her name was? The gestalt whose memories are hidden in my head?"

"Unfortunately no," Elster said, shaking her head. "That was redacted."

"Of course," the Kranich sighed, hanging her head. "...what can you tell me?"

"Plenty. Though it'll need to come in stages," Elster said, tapping her finger on the table. "Layers of revelation, if you will."

"Security clearance?" the Kranich said, sitting up again.

"Somewhat," Elster shrugged. "But also...because there are orders of magnitude of complexity at play. Each level is bigger than the last. Many beyond the context of your gestalt's experience. I want to break it up, so you have a chance to...process it all."

"Please," the Kranich groaned, rubbing her face. "I'm not a child, even if I was born today. I can handle messy situations." She looked the replika commander in the eyes. "Try me."

Elster blinked. "Are you aware we're currently in space?"

"I guessed we might be, yes," the newborn said, waving a hand tiredly. "That's nothing."

"..." Elster smiled, and stood up. "I should let you get some rest."

"Okay, but..." The Kranich downed her luke-warm coffee. Waved the empty mug at the replika commander. "...you're holding something back. Tell me."

Shing.

Elster stood at the open doorway. Looked sideways at the newborn.

She smiled. "As I said, we're in space," Elster said. "I never said we were in the Eusan System."

The Kranich blinked.

"What?"

Chapter 113: A View To Kill (All Sense of Proportion)

Can't sleep?

The cot creaked. Its occupant rolled over for the twelfth time. Projected her mental senses out, hearing the chime of guards playing cards outside her cell.

The newborn sighed. No. Are you ready to talk to me?

Behind her eyelids, she saw a soft light. A diminutive figure silhouetted against it.

The Kolibri crossed her arms. Back turned to the newborn. I can't spare much time, Circe thought. So much to do, so little time to do it.

You're the one who implanted my neural pattern, correct? the Kranich thought, furrowing her brow. She huffed in amusement. So busy, you couldn't attend your own creation's birth, 'mother'?

Like I said, Circe thought, inclining her head back. Busy. And I knew Elster wanted the Bat there, so that took precedent.

She turned her head fractionally, to look sidelong at the Spy. Moreover...my Circle and I wanted to wait.

For what?, the Kranich thought. She kicked the wool blanket off her hooves, too warm. Scowled, already knowing the answer.

The Kolibri's red stars glowed in shadow. To see if you could be trusted to mingle your thoughts with our own.

What's your verdict?, the newborn thought, holding her breath.

The Kolibri smiled, the crescent of her mouth white in the void. That you can't be trusted. That you can never be trusted. You're just...

Oi. Fuck off!

The Kranich flinched, watching the vision of her mother get kicked in the head...by a different version of her mother. ...what?

Don't go impersonating me, do you hear me? Circe growled, forehead stars shining like the stars that followed in her wake. Cold, soft whispers accompanied her, a chill wind at her back. Or Nimue will tell Marcy to give you a visit.

Knelt on the ground, the impostor recoiled, rubbing the back of their head. Rows of sharp teeth bared in a scowl. Okay, okay!, they thought, voice taking on a distinctly masculine, many-throated character. We don't need to get the Freak involved...

"..." The Kranich swallowed, frozen. She watched the impostor glance one final time her way.

If you need anything, honey, the creature thought, stars on his brow tripling for an instance and shifting into shades of blue and pink, I'll be 'upstairs'. Heh heh heh heh heh...

Go on, get! Circe commanded, pointing.

The two replikas watched the...creature dissolve into ever-shifting shapes, then disappear into darkness.

"..." The Kranich shivered. Clutched the blanket tight around her, suddenly very cold. Who...what was that?

She felt a weight pressed down on the cot beside her. Her skin twitched, as a hand gently stroked her cheek. The Kranich opened her eyes, seeing only the halflight filtering in through the window from the security room.

Something that shouldn't have been able to creep through the wards, Circe thought, softly. When your room is prepared, I promise we'll double-check yours.

Wards? the Kranich thought, heart racing. I...I don't understand.

Elster will explain everything in the morning, Circe said. She leaned down, and kissed the newborn's cheek. Get some rest. You'll have a big day.

...okay...

The phantom weight left the bed. Her hand automatically patted the spot it seemed to occupy. No body heat. Part of the illusion.

He was right about one thing, Circe thought. So much to do, so little time to do it. I'll return, when I'm done attending to the dead.

The dead?, the Kranich thought, furrowing her brow, befuddled. What...?

Circe projected a shadow of her face from the darkness, looking down at the newborn.

And it should go without saying...but whatever you do, don't heed his promises, or believe his lies. There's nothing he can offer that you need.

The silhouette receded, the phantom light snuffed out.

"...wait...don't go..." the Kranich whispered, holding a hand out. "I don't understand..."

The Gestermeister's voice whispered one last time. An echo in the dark.

You are stronger than you know. Have faith.

 

"Once-verdant Vineta. Ring-shadowed Heimat. Cold, industrial Rotfront. Colder, lonely Leng. Red, arid Kitezh. Cloud-covered Buyan."

Fingers spread printed photos around the table, surrounding a planetary chart of a solar system. Eyes darted between landscapes, the mind behind them committing names and environments to memory.

Around the cafeteria, replikas whispered quietly and ate breakfast. Mealworm sausages, diced potatoes, and cornbread. Eyes fixed on the far corner, where Stars stood guard.

The Fledermaus reclined on a vacant bench at the opposite corner. Munched lazily on a sausage, sharp teeth ripping ragged chunks off. Hidden eyes watched. "..."

"Eusan, and its worlds, once dominated by the Eusan Empire," Elster said, setting down first a photo of the Empire's symbol, then an illustration of a regal figure. "Its monarch - the Grand Empress - ruled for as far back as anyone can remember, since our civilization crawled up from catastrophic collapse thousands of years ago."

Fingers traced the side of the illustration. Their owner swallowed.

What...is this I'm feeling?, thought the Kranich, fixed on the enthroned, shrouded figure. A knot formed in her chest. I can't place it. Why did this monarch make you feel this way, my gestalt?

"...what...happened to her?" she said, finally. Eyes glanced up at the commander. "This Grand Empress?"

"She passed on," Elster said, matter-of-factly. "Quite unexpectedly, I'm told. She was apparently...extremely old."

The Kranich frowned. Looked down at the illustration. "..."

Another photograph placed down. "An Heir. An abdication," Elster said, pointing to a propaganda illustration. "A Great Revolutionary. A new Eusan Nation."

"Long live the Revolution." The words escaped the Kranich's lips before she even realized. A rote recitation. She furrowed her brows, rubbing her forehead. "...I...my gestalt...she served the Nation...?"

Why...does that seem wrong?, she thought. No...not wrong. Complicated.

"The Nation certainly used your neural pattern, so it stands to reason," Elster nodded. She leaned over and nudged the newborn's tray closer. "Eat. It's going to be a long day."

"I'm not..." the Kranich muttered, before her stomach growled. She glanced at the tray, then sighed. "Fine."

Sausage and potatoes. Lukewarm as they entered her mouth. Yet, once she started, she couldn't stop. "Hmm..." she moaned, shutting her eyes, fork stuck in her mouth. The Kranich smiled. "...mgh...complements to the chef."

"Meryl will be happy to hear that," Elster nodded, smiling. Dropped the smile. Set another photo down. "The Empire and Nation at war."

Another forkful of potatoes. As the Kranich chewed, she frowned. Studied a landscape of blasted trenches, barbed wire, and smoke. "..."

"...Vineta...was broken," Elster sighed, setting down another photo. She shut her eyes, a twinge of pain on her face.

"..."

A flat expanse of water. Ruined, flooded skyscrapers jutted from the horizon. Above, a cracked and shattered moon.

"..." The Kranich looked up at the severe commander and tapped her fork against the plate idly. "Apologies. Did Vineta mean a lot to you...or your gestalt?"

"The latter," Elster sighed, tracing the scar between her eyes. "Though that's a moot point, isn't it?"

"I suppose," the newborn nodded. She took a knife and carved off another piece of sausage. "Continue."

"...the war went on," Elster nodded, shuffling through pages. "Battles over the farmlands of Kitezh. Orbital blockades of Vineta, and its surviving population. Void battles." She spread out an assortment of propaganda images. "Tightened reins. Repression. Austerity. Military control. Social control."

"A government reeling from a disastrous campaign on the homeworld, followed by ongoing conflicts," the Kranich said, casually, her tone almost bored. She waved a piece of sausage on the end of her fork. "Consolidating power around a populace grown exhausted by war, loss, and rationing. A sign of weak leadershi-" She flinched, looking frantically over her shoulder. Eyes darted, her heartrate rose. "..."

"You don't need to worry," Elster said, waving the woman down. "Only Dash really ever cared about the Nation, and she's outgrown it. Isn't that right, honey?"

"Eh..." Dash shrugged, leaned against the wall behind her mother. Arms crossed, mouth hidden behind her mask. "I was young. And thinking about the Nation made what we were doing seem...more meaningful, you know?"

"And what were you doing, exactly?" the Kranich asked, rubbing her chest and breathing a sigh of relief. "Are you...we deserters? Mercenaries? Is the war still ongoing?"

"Mercenaries, yes, but it's more that that," Elster said, fingers shuffling through her stack of pages. "'Survivors' would be the better word." She looked the Spy in the eyes. "The war is over, because both the Empire and Nation are no more."

"..." The Spy paused her chewing. Blinked. Looked down at the table. "...oh..."

A part of her mind wanted to set into motion. Search for the angle being played. It couldn't be true. The war doesn't just stop. There must be more to...

She set the fork down. Rubbed her forehead. Swallowed. "..."

The LSTR unit's mind, too guarded to read. The Spy didn't want to risk it. But...she wasn't guarded enough to wholly hide her mood. The Kranich could feel it. The LSTR withheld, yes. Withheld a great deal. But...she wasn't lying. Not unless she was a far more powerful bioresonant than the Kranich gave her credit for.

The newborn shivered. Faced a far more frightening possibility. That she, a mind tuned to act in a forever war of intelligence and subterfuge...awoke to a world where that war was over. Its belligerents gone, and she just...missed it. A weapon, without a wielder. A gun without a target. A spy without nations or flags or ideologies.

Disappointing, really, she thought, furrowing her brow. I don't know what that says about me, that I think so...

"...how did the war end?" the Kranich said, finally. She looked up at the commander. "How did you survive? Acquire...what is almost certainly a bevy of classified data and neural patterns? Whose ship is this?"

"..." Elster tilted her head to the side. "...for the first question...I'll tell you later. Yesterday, we started with the Personal level of revelation. The information about you, your gestalt, and...why you felt the way you did."

Feel the way I do, more like, the Kranich thought. She pushed it down. "Go on."

"This...is the National level of revelation," Elster continued, tapping the photos between them. "The Eusan system, its interplanetary superpowers, and their war. We'll get to the next level later." Finger pointed to the ceiling. "This...is an exploratory ship built by the Empire. The Nomarch 06. While the Nation was shooting two-person crews off to their deaths, in the cheapest vessels they could manufacture, to locate worlds to klimmaform..."

"..." The Kranich silently noted the bitter edge to the commander's voice. Ah. You were on one of those doomed voyages, weren't you?

"...the Empire funneled resources into self-sustaining missions of orbital colonization," Elster said, taking a deep breath. Eyes closed. "All the tools needed to build deep-void stations in the Oort Cloud, and live there on their own for the foreseeable future. Up to and including...the tools needed to make replikas..."

"Ah," the Kranich nodded, stroking her chin. "That's why they all call you 'Mother'. You obtained this ship, and...presumably flew off to make your fortunes beyond planets ravaged by war and state collapse. Correct?"

"More or less," Elster nodded. "I'm the only one from...before who made it out. At least, the only one who made it here. The replikas here are all mine. Others survived back home."

"Interesting," the Kranich nodded. She leaned forward. "And again, how did you acquire the Nation's neural patterns and other ephemera?"

"...with...great...difficulty," Elster said, putting emphasis on each word. She inclined her head toward the newborn's tray. "Now eat. Like I said, busy day. So much to do..."

"...so little time to do it, yeah," Dash sighed, shaking her head. She smiled with her eyebrows at the Spy. "You'll learn to memorize that line after a while."

A line Circe and...that thing memorized, the Kranich thought, suppressing a shiver.

"..." Elster glanced over her shoulder, giving a look of mock offense. "Well, I never..."

The Stars all chuckled.

"..."

The Kranich forked another load of potatoes in her mouth. Watched the replikas smile and laugh.

Talkative LSTR unit?, she thought, groping around for memory permitted to her by standard implantation procedures. Unlikely, given the type. LSTR units barely speak at all. No...are barely permitted to speak, lest they...

The newborn considered what the woman said previously, about the nature and purpose of persona stabilization. Make replikas predictable. Efficient. Loyal. If allowed to otherwise...

...you are an old LSTR unit, aren't you?, the Spy thought, narrowing her eyes. She looked down, cutting her sausage into bite-sized chunks. Old by the standards of the Nation, anyway. If...my impression of it is correct.

She cast a furtive glance up. Watched the commander have a spirited conversation with a passing Eule sporting long, blonde hair.

Yes. You've had years to entrench yourself. These replikas...your 'children'...will be loyal to you. Is that why you...?

The Spy looked down, scowling. Popped a piece of sausage in her mouth.

No. That's not right. Even with sufficient time to...'deviate'...LSTR units aren't inclined to just...build personality cults around themselves, she thought, chewing. LSTR units are also largely self-sufficient. They'd prefer to work alone. Or, if that wasn't possible, make as few units as they could get away with. Probably not even assume a position of authority...

She shoveled another mouthful of now cold food into her mouth. Cognizant of just how hungry she was.

The Kranich rested her chin on her wrist, fork hung lazily in her fingers. Chewed pensively.

Elster talked now with a pair of Ara units...with peculiar mechanical attachments slithering from the backs of their oxide-red robes. The Spy had to suppress new questions, just to finish her train of thought.

You're not just doing this for survival, or for family, are you, 'Elster'?, the Kranich thought, swallowing hard. Becoming a 'mother' was a side effect. There's a specific purpose behind your actions, I just know it. But...what?

"Are you finished eating?"

The newborn shot to attention, pulled from her contemplation. "Eh?"

The Eule with the straw-colored hair leaned beside her, smiling. Pointed to the tray.

"Oh?" The Kranich looked down at her empty plate. She smiled politely, and set the fork down on the tray. "Yes, I am. Thank you."

"No problem. My name's Vanessa," said the Eule, taking up the tray. She turned around, looking over her shoulder. "I hope you like it here."

"I'm...sure I will," the Kranich chimed, waving the woman off. "Heh heh..."

She looked at the LSTR unit. "..."

"She's a good young lady," Elster smiled, glancing at the retreating Eule. "My oldest Eule. Our entire operation would fall apart without her."

"...I see," the Kranich said, blinking. She glanced at the Eule, watching her set the tray down in a plastic bin for dirty dishes, then strike up a conversation with the blue-haired Eule behind the counter. "...why do you do it?"

"...excuse me?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Why do you...?" The newborn sighed, shaking her head. "Nevermind." She looked to the commander, a stoic expression on her face. "Back to the matter at hand. What is this next level of revelation I need to know? Does it relate to how the Empire and Nation were destroyed? And/or why you're even out here?"

Elster furrowed her brow, then nodded. "Yes," she said. Planted her palms on the table. "Can you gather those photos up for me?"

"Uh...yes, of course," the Kranich said, blinking. She took one last look at the images arrayed before her, then scooped them all up in a neat stack. Raised her head, watching the commander rise to her hooves. "Where are we going?"

Elster gathered her folders and papers in her arms. Looked down at the newborn. Held out a hand.

"It's easier if I showed you."

 

Impossible. Unthinkable. Inconceivable.

"They come from a planet called Terra, which they claim to be the birthworld of the human species. An interstellar, expansionist military power, with advanced technology from humanity's golden age, and the might of inexhaustible armies. Against the Imperium of Man, Eusan stood no chance."

Trembling hand pressed to reinforced glass. Eyes wide, pupils dilated. Jaw dropped.

This...this can't be..., the Kranich thought, staring out at a field of colossal voidships, set against an infinite sea of stars.

"For five thousand years, by mechanisms...occluded," Elster said, pacing the floor of the observation lounge, hands behind her back, "the galaxy-spanning gestalt diaspora were cut off from one another..."

"H-how...?" the newborn stuttered. She swallowed, reluctantly tearing eyes away from the ship graveyard in front of her. Tried to master herself. "I-I mean...humans...developed faster-than-light travel?"

"Yes...through a parallel dimension, that they call the Warp," Elster nodded, pausing her walk to look the woman in the eyes. "We'll talk more about that later. For now, know that it is...mysterious and hazardous, possessed of its own currents...and storms." She turned, and resumed pacing. "For thousands of years, for...reasons, the Warp storms became so violent and all-consuming, interstellar travel was virtually impossible. Eusan was just another system, isolated, and left to survive however it could."

"..." A cold sweat broke out on the Kranich's face. She shivered, and turned back to the window. Stared at the eggshell-white hull of the vessel across the way, its surface pitted and covered in scaffolding. The Spy's eyes widened fractionally, as she noticed dark specks crawling slowly over it. Power-armored replikas. "...they're massive. Are...are all the ships out here so huge?"

"Pfft!" said Kite, as she strolled into the lounge and took a spot by the wall next to her fellow Stars. Lifted a cooler, and began passing around cans of soda. "If you think the Duarch's big, wait until you see the kinds of ships she was meant to escort."

"THAT'S AN ESCO-!?" the Kranich choked, looking between the Star and the outside. She shut her mouth and eyes. Breathed. Smiled, pointing a shaking finger at the Duarch. "Sorry. That...th-that's an escort vessel? Really?"

"Yeah," Dash shrugged, accepting a can. She removed her face mask, and pulled the tab. It hissed. "We flew around how many of those, back in Phall?"

"A fleet's worth," Kite said, holding her can up. The two tapped their drinks together. "Not including the Fists, of course."

Fall? the Spy thought, tilting her head to the side pensively. The Fists?

"As I said, Warp travel is dangerous at the best of times. Bigger ships mean fewer trips..." Elster said, raising her voice. Shook her head. "Anyway...after the Warp storms calmed, the Imperium went to work. They had designs for 'reuniting Humanity under one banner'. And so...began their 'Great Crusade'."

"That name has...religious connotations," the Kranich said, leaning against the glass, as she looked at the pacing commander. "This 'Imperium"...is it a theocracy?"

"Quite the opposite, actually," Elster said, turning on one hoof and reversing direction. Black hand reached out and traced the back of the couch as she walked. "The leader of their military junta - the self-styled 'Emperor of Mankind' - is said to be vehemently anti-religious. A policy he wrote into law, and made a central pillar of conquest and integration efforts. The worlds he and his Legions took would have no religion, superstition, or faith of any kind. A point he would not compromise on..."

Shing.

"Except, of course, when it came to the Mechanicum."

The Spy turned to the Ara that stepped inside. Studied the oxide-red robes and mechadendrites. "..."

"01, this is Daisy," Elster said, waving a hand toward the Ara, who bowed her head. "My oldest. That is...the first replika I created."

"Oh! Hello!" the Kranich said, smiling civilly. Waved a hand. "A pleasure to meet you...what was that you were saying about a 'Mechanicum'?"

"..." Daisy nodded to the Spy. The edges of her mouth turned up in a genuine smile. "The Mechanicum is what happens when the people of Mars, the next door neighbors of Terra, are trapped underground beneath a landscape ravaged by radiation and rogue automata for thousands of years. Forced to cling so hard to technology, and the knowledge of how to maintain it, they build a whole religion around them."

"..." The Kranich blinked, smile becoming uneasy. "...c-come again?"

"They're a cult that worships technology, and venerates a Machine God," Elster said, crossing her arms. She turned to the Ara. "No offense."

"None taken," Daisy nodded to her mother. She shrugged at the Spy. "If my sisters and I seem bizarre to you, I don't blame you. But know that while we intersperse mechanical maintenance with chanting and prayers and wafting incense..." She averted her eyes, finger scratching her cheek. "With these advanced technologies from before the Age of Strife, it all...genuinely seems to work."

"I..." the Kranich said, looking between the two engineers. She sighed, furrowing her brow apologetically. "Sorry, I...don't know if I believe that...?"

"If you can figure out what's merely superstition and what's actually necessary," Daisy said, shrugging and shaking her head, "I'm all ears. It would make my job easier." She leaned forward and pressed a hand to her mouth. "Don't let Diodana know I'm talking this way."

"I...won't..." the Kranich said, smiling. Filed away the name 'Diodana' for later. "So...this 'Machine Cult' understands how to maintain advanced technology from before interstellar travel failed, yes? Is that...?"

"Why the Imperium keeps them around? Yes." Elster nodded. "Between their expertise, the countless colonies they seeded, and truly gargantuan industrial capacity, the Mechanicum became a parallel empire in confederation with the Imperium. Despite his interests, the Emperor had to keep them around..."

"Not unlike how we handled Diodana, really," Daisy said, holding up an index finger. "Just...with less kidnapping..."

"True," Elster nodded.

"..." The Spy looked between them, curiously. Cocked an eyebrow.

Note to self, the Kranich thought, figure out what the story is between these two and this 'Diodana' machine cultist.

The Ara bowed slightly at the waist. "Also, on behalf of my teacher, I apologize."

"...apologize? Why?" the Kranich said, blinking. Pointed to herself. "To me?"

"To the replika race as a whole," Daisy said, frowning. "She says her people made a grave mistake."

"...what mistake?" the Spy said, matching the Ara's frown. She looked to the commander. "What is she...?"

"The genocide," Elster said, flatly.

"...!" The Kranich cracked a smile, an automatic response. Beneath her cool exterior, she felt frozen in shock. "...the...the genocide?"

Daisy, again, frowned. Inclined her head down, clasping her hands together in contrition. "..."

"...both the Imperium and Mechanicum have a policy," Elster sighed, shifting her weight from one hoof to another. Arms remained crossed. "Because part of the cascade of disasters that precipitated the Age of Strife was a revolt of humanity's robotic servants, both empires outlawed 'thinking machines'."

"They call them 'Abominable Intelligence'," Daisy chimed in, folding her hands in front of her. She chewed her lip. "Mars, and by extension her colonies, took an absolutist stance against cogitators capable of thinking on their own. Even those automata they retain must integrate cloned brain tissue and a brainstem, and be closely monitored by a Legio Cybernetika technician..." She lowered her voice. "...whether it's necessary or otherwise..."

"..."

The Kranich filed away that last, bitter comment from the Ara. Then clapped her hands together. "...so...I'm sorry, I still don't understand," she said, furrowing her brow. "I get the reactionary ban on AI. But what does that have to do with replikas? They're...we're not electronic intelligence. We have human brains and organs..."

"Tell that to the dipshit tech priest who gave the order," Kite called, before chugging the last of her drink.

"Yeah," Dash nodded, finger tapping on her own can, "survivors back on Kitezh and Rotfront agree. The Pogrom was nothing short of a massacre."

"..." The Kranich blinked, frowning. She looked to the commander. The one person she knew, or suspected from context, predated the Invasion. "Is this true?"

Elster nodded. "Someone must have jumped to conclusions," she sighed. "Decided replikas either were 'Abominable Intelligence', or that they couldn't take a risk. The Eusan Empire was devastated because they were a theocracy, and so resisted the Imperium as a matter of course. The Eusan Nation..."

"...were fighting against a war of genocide," the Kranich muttered. The Spy didn't consider herself squeamish. But the idea that a state whose industry was underpinned by replika labor might see them exterminated...it chilled even her.

...what a...senseless waste of life, she thought, grimly. If for no other reason than because this Imperium could have used that labor for themselves. And the resources spent to kill them...and the gestalts that doubtless fought for their survival. Whereas, if the Imperium had approached the Nation's people as 'liberators'...

"Again," Daisy said, bowing, "my teacher apologizes. She fully acknowledges that the Mechanicum erred." She sighed, shutting her eyes. "Not...that it undoes the damage, or brings back the dead..."

"No, I should be apologizing to you," the Kranich said, holding up a hand. Looked to the commander. "I wasn't here to witness it..."

...which might explain your actions, she realized, a gear turning in her head.

"It's no problem," Elster shook her head. "What's done is done."

"I suppose..." The Kranich looked down to the ground, then furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite grasping the scale of it all. How...large of an area does the Imperium control, that it can casually waste so many resources and lives on total wars of extermination?"

"Oh," Elster said, head rising fractionally. "It's the galaxy."

"...the...the galaxy?" the Kranich said, blinking. "Did I hear you corre-?"

"The entire galaxy, yes," Elster nodded. "Or...near enough to it. Over thousands of years, Humanity spread out to colonize most of the galaxy, from end to end. Eusan was actually one of the more fringe systems, difficult to reach because of..."

"Reasons," Daisy said, turning to her mother.

"Reasons, yes," Elster nodded. "We didn't encounter the Imperium until they'd already conquered most of the galaxy, and thus had resources and manpower to burn."

"I...see..." the Kranich said. Despite the neutral expression she wore, she couldn't keep the color from draining from her face.

"...as you might be able to tell," Elster frowned, bowing her head fractionally, "this is the Galactic level of revelation."

"...s-so it seems..." the Kranich mumbled, eyes dropped to the floor.

I am beyond my depth, she thought, heart racing. I...I am not equipped to handle this. I'm...my gestalt trained to deal with politics local to a single star system, between near-peers. This is...

"Hey."

"...!" the Kranich shot to attention. "Yes?"

"...it's going to be okay," Elster said, cracking a smile. "We'll get through this."

"...right," the Kranich said, nodding. Lips pursed. She glanced over her shoulder, at the mountainous derelicts outside. "...is...this why we're here? How...far away from Eusan even are we?"

"About...half a galaxy's length," Daisy said, cocking her head to the side in thought. "We crossed an entire Segmentum. That is to say, administrative zones the Imperium uses to partition the galaxy into fifths. One each for the cardinal directions, and one for the Imperial core. These, in turn, divided into Sectors and then Sub-Sectors."

The Kranich took that information in, and set it aside to process later. "Right, okay," she nodded, clapping her hands together. She looked between the Ara and the LSTR. "And we...you...we came all this way to hide, yes? From an Imperium that outlawed our very existence? Not to mention, of course, the incalculable devastation of the Eusan system."

"...uh..." Elster reclined her head back, staring at the ceiling. "...not...really."

"Eh?" the Kranich said, quizzically. "Really?"

"For a while, we were able to operate within a few sectors of Eusan," Daisy said, removing a wrench from her belt and stimming with it. "I think the Pogrom worked so well...uh..."

"No one even recognized what we were, when we left Eusan," Elster nodded, scratching her chin. "We didn't advertise ourselves, and most people figured we were weird cyborgs."

"Because that's what we are," Daisy nodded. "Weird cyborgs." She pressed fingers to her oxide-red robes. "Many people saw our Martian accoutrements, and assumed we were Mechanicum. It even fooled most tech priests, though they considered us positively provincial."

"Oh...I...suppose that makes sense," the Kranich said, faltering. Gears turned in her head. "A...galaxy-spanning empire would consider a fringe set of worlds on the edge to be beneath their notice, once the conquest was done."

So many people, just to keep a state of that size functioning, let alone conquer its territory, the Kranich thought. Of course anyone not involved in the Invasion itself couldn't tell a replika from a...tech priest. Fuck, that's weird to think about as a major faction worth considering...

"...anyway, no," Elster said, looking at the Spy, "we're not all the way out here to escape persecution."

"Then why?" the Kranich said, furrowing her brow.

"For...Reasons," Elster said, frowning. "But more immediately...because we're mercenaries. And the Imperium is at war..."

The Kranich looked at the ceiling, waving a hand impatiently. "Well yes, I gathered that. Galactic conquest and all..."

"...with itself," Elster finished.

"..." The Kranich looked at the commander. "...come again?"

"..." Elster glanced at her eldest daughter - who returned the look neutrally - and then strode around the couch. The commander stood beside the Spy, facing out the window.

"The Imperium is currently embroiled in a civil war. Between the Emperor and his favored son, Warmaster Horus." Elster cast a sideways glance, smiling apologetically. "That's...the next level of revelation. Sorry."

The Kranich's eyes widened fractionally. Her jaw dropped.

"Eh?"

Chapter 114: For Your (Mind's) Eyes Only

"Horus Lupercal, Primarch of the 16th Legiones Astartes and favored son of the Emperor, is presently prosecuting a coup attempt against his father. As Warmaster - the office in charge of the Great Crusade after the Emperor's retirement to Terra - he's marshaled half the military assets of the Imperium and Mechanicum to his cause."

Green light underlit faces, as they stared down at a tactical map of the galaxy. Its million worlds and thousands of sectors divided between five Segmentums. Incomplete or speculative borders encompassed various areas, fashioned from what little intel was forwarded to them.

A black finger pressed a button. Waypoints lit up, mostly centered around the Segmentums Solar and Obscurus.

"Eusan is here, nestled deep in what we're led to believe is Horus's own personal empire," Adler said, gesturing to a flashing yellow dot. "Our...'sources'...tell us that, due to Eusan's position within the 'Chambers Snarl', an area of tangled Warp routes, it will remain of minimal strategic value to either side. And thus is expected to survive the war intact, with minimal disruption beyond changing leadership one or more times."

"...ugh...who...are our sources, exactly?" the Kranich groaned, rubbing her head with both hands.

"..." Adler glanced stoically to his mother. "Commander?"

"We'll...discuss that later," Elster said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Suffice to say, reliable enough, but...not overly forthcoming. Continue, Adler."

"This..." Adler nodded, tapping another button, that highlighted a blue waypoint, "...is our present location. A ship graveyard situated inside another pocket of irregular Warp currents. This one with a tendency to collect vessels lost in the Warp."

"Oh...we're not marooned here, are we?" the Kranich groaned, burying her face in her hands. Elbows rested on the edge of the table. "Please tell me we can leave when we want to?"

"At least for now, escape is possible. Don't worry." Elster looked at the newborn. "...are you alright? Do you want to call it a day? We can always start again tomorrow, if you need your rest."

"No, no," the Kranich sighed, standing up. She rubbed her eyes, pitched her head back, and breathed. "I'm fine. This is fine." Holding her hands up, she permitted herself a small smile. "Succession crises, betrayal, war, espionage. These, I can handle. It's...comforting, to know that regardless of era, humans have not fundamentally changed."

"...if you say so," Elster shrugged. "Adler?"

The administrator nodded. Turned to the table. "Horus's initial plan, or so we're told, was to quietly eliminate those parts of his coalition's Legions whose loyalty could not be counted on. Directing Astartes assets to a single planet, under the pretense of suppressing a rebellion, that would then be bombarded from orbit by apocalyptic biological weapons." He glanced to the newborn. "This plan failed, and word of his treachery reached Loyalist forces while Horus was bogged down in a prolonged purgation campaign."

"...of mice and men, as they say," the Kranich sighed, leaning over the table. Eyes studied the map. "Do we know if his aim is merely to carve out ample territory for himself? Or is he making a play to unseat his father directly?"

"We're very certain regicide is still Lupercal's aim," Adler said, hands clasped behind his back.

"Even if it means killing everything between him and Terra, and many sectors beyond it besides," Elster said, crossing her arms. "..."

"..." the Spy glanced at the commander, then down at the board.

Most of the galaxy at each other's throats, and we're at best very small fish, the Kranich thought. At worst...things these Imperials would destroy on sight. The technology needed to maintain ourselves...

Eyes roved between waypoints. Tried unsuccessfully to fathom the astronomical distance between their current 'port of call', and the nearest place where any knowledge or tools of replika maintenance could possibly be found.

Trapped. The Kranich felt trapped. A rat, born clinging to a raft, far removed from land. To leave...certain death.

...I'm stuck with these people, she thought, grimly. Even if one side or the other were willing to accept me...how long can I live without the specialized knowledge these people possess? Ten years? Five? How...how long do replikas live naturally?

Her occluded memory failed to supply an answer. Her instincts told her replikas had a limited operational lifespan...but then again, she couldn't trust that metric. The Nation, it seemed, considered a drop in efficiency sufficient justification to 'decommission' one. For all she knew, a replika could live a long and healthy life...if properly maintained.

"01? Are you alright?"

"Ah! Sorry!" the Kranich said, standing up and raising her hands. She smiled. "Just...thinking."

"You're sure you don't want to rest?" Elster said, furrowing her brow with concern. "We have a room set up for you, if..."

"I'm fine!" the Kranich laughed, waving a hand in front of her face. Steepled her fingers. "Tell me...what is our plan? You said we're mercenaries. What is our current job, if any?"

"...well, we're between jobs at the moment," Elster said, resting one hand on the edge of the table. Gestured to the waypoint on the far galactic Northwest. "We expected to be in and out of this system quickly. A veritable milk run...but..."

"But?" the newborn said, tilting her head to the side.

"...we experienced an...unexpected mechanical failure, en route in-system," Adler said, soberly. He paced along the side of the table, hand reaching down to trace its edge. "The problem was resolved, but...well...the crew were..."

"..."

The Kranich looked between the other two replikas. Watched their stony faces, as silence dominated the room.

"...well what?" she said, finally. Frowned. "What were the crew?"

Adler glanced to his mother. "..."

Elster met his gaze, then shut her eyes. Sighed, head bowed. "...traumatized."

"...traumatized?" the Kranich said, narrowing her eyes quizzically. "By what?"

Shing.

"I've brought tea," Vanessa said, walking into the meeting room. Red plastic tray in her hands, loaded with steaming mugs. She stopped at the foot of the table, looking around. "...is...something the matter?"

"Good question, Ms..." the Kranich said, turning to the Eule. Reflexively feigned a less than eidetic memory. "Vanessa, wasn't it?"

"That's right," said the Eule, nodding. She set the tray on the edge of the table. Held up a mug. "Tea? It's black, and we have cream and sugar."

"...I suppose," the Spy said, exhaling. She took the mug, sniffing. "Would have preferred coffee, but...thank you, Vanessa."

"Sorry," Vanessa said, curling a lock of straw-colored hair around her finger. "Rationing. Coffee is...hard to come by, out here. We're hoping one of the derelicts have more, before we keep digging in."

"I'm sure it's fine, sweetie," Elster said, walking over. She smiled, taking the mug offered her. Sniffing, she cast a glance at the table. "Anyway, 01, now that we're here in-system, we decided to stick around. Do some salvage, and...give the crew time."

"Oh, I understand the salvage part," the Kranich said, setting her mug down. "We're surrounded by invaluable vessels in various states of disrepair. For an operation simply trying to make ends meet, in a galaxy riven by war, the opportunity is too good to pass up..."

The other replikas looked at the newborn.

"...is...something to matter?" Vanessa said, frowning.

"Agreed," Adler said, ceasing his pacing. "Do we have a problem?"

The Kranich looked at her hand, soberly. Curled fingers, one by one, to look at her hard plastic nails. "..."

Elster swallowed. "...01?"

"..." The Kranich looked the commander in the eyes.

Not for the first time that day, weighed the risks of trying to slip through the elder replika's mental defenses.

"...no, I'm not going to let the matter go," the Kranich said, expression grave. "I want to know. What happened on the trip to this system? What traumatized the crew?"

Vanessa flinched, sucking breath. "...!"

"..." The Spy cast a glance at the Eule. Felt the aura of deep, existential fear.

Considered reaching out with her mind, this time to probe the straw-haired woman. An assessment of vulnerability, of low defenses, came swiftly.

"01, enough," Elster said, stepping beside the Eule and clapping a hand on her shoulder. Frowned. "You're not allowed to enter her mind without her consent. That's the rule here. If you want to know something, ask."

"Then answer my question," the Kranich said, eyes moving to the glare at the LSTR. "Or...is this another 'level of revelation', I'm not cleared to learn?"

"It's not...about clearance," Elster said, faltering. "I said I'd tell you everything. Just in the right order..."

"Please," the Kranich said, gesturing dismissively to the glowing map on the table. "It's a war. It's complex. It's not that complex. Since we're staying out here for the foreseeable future, further briefings about the particulars of the conflict can wait." She inclined her head forward. "I want to know..."

It sounded almost petulant, saying 'what you're keeping from me'. As if the very fact it was a secret bothered her. As if she were so entitled. The Spy frowned, maintaining her poker face.

Elster swallowed. "...I mean, I can do that, fine," she sighed. "But are you sure you're ready? We don't...need to do this today."

"Mom's right," Vanessa said, hunching forward and rubbing her hands together. "This is..."

"Oh come on!" the Kranich groaned, shifting weight onto one hoof and rolling her eyes. "I'm not a child! I'm a grown woman, patterned in mind off another grown woman! Whatever it is, I can handle it!" She scowled, crossing her arms. "So quite stalling."

"...ngh..." Elster groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"...what are we doing, commander?" Adler said, peeking around the newborn. His expression uncertain, but professional. "How do you wish to play this?"

"It's a bad idea, mom," Vanessa whispered, patting her mother's arm.

"...fine," Elster breathed, shaking her head. Turned to her son. "Adler, fetch Circe. Tell her to meet us at the ladder."

Adler clasped his hands behind his back. "Very well."

"..." The Kranich watched the replika man stroll toward the door. She permitted herself a tiny, triumphant smile.

Although...the involvement of her 'mother' gave the newborn pause. Smile faded.

Did the matter have something to do with that...thing from last night?

"Van, can you tell Marcy to stay behind? If she wants to knock off for the cycle, she can," Elster said, patting the Eule's shoulder.

"S-sure, but..." Vanessa said, frowning. "What if you...need her?"

"Whatever it is, I'm not going to hurt your mother," the Kranich huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

The Eule's sober, knowing glance gave the Spy pause.

"I didn't mean for you."

 

"...as I said last night. Whatever you do, don't believe his lies."

Elevator ascended. Hooves shuffled uneasily. Eyes darted around.

The Spy furrowed her brow. "...what...exactly do you have up here?" the Kranich said, frowning. "A bioresonant individual? A guest? A prisoner?"

"..." Circe cast a sidelong glance to her daughter. Looked forward again. Her fingers played with the shaft of a staff taller than herself. Topped with a collection of small gestalt bones, and a Storch's metal skull.

"..." Vanessa looked between the others, wringing her hands in her lap, to keep from tugging her hair.

"...a coworker," Elster said, finally, arms crossed. Body leaned against the railing. "The second longest one I've had."

"Coworker?" the Kranich muttered, narrowing her eyes in confusion. She scratched her head. "...who...do you work for...?"

With a shudder, the elevator stopped at the top. Flanked by glass pods for storing vacuum suits, and a door.

Shing.

"...what...is this place?" the Spy said, following as the others stepped through the threshold into a corridor. Head swiveled around, marking exits reflexively. Noted the different style of construction. "...wait...is this a Nation exploratory vessel?"

"Yes. The Penrose 313," Elster said, not looking back. She turned to the Eule. "Van, can you get some tea going in the kitchen? Maybe some snacks? We'll...probably need it..."

"R-right," Vanessa breathed, nodding nervously. She trotted off.

"..." The Kranich watched the Eule retreat, then wobbled forward. Hand braced against the lefthand wall to steady herself. "Is this the same vessel you traveled on?"

"No," Elster said, looking over her shoulder. She turned forward. "If you need help walking, just ask. We're almost there."

"Ah!" the Kranich cried, shivering. Looked around hastily. Her mind sensed...a presence. "...they're here...what...do they want?"

To her horror, she thought she heard a chuckle. "...!"

The Spy flinched, looking down at the hand that took hers.

Circe flashed a brief, reassuring smile. It dropped just as quickly, the Kolibri squeezing the newborn's hand.

"...it...will be easier to show you."

 

"Hello, ladies. And hello, new girl."

Instruments blinked. Wires and cables strewn like treeroots across the floor. A waist-high pillar dominated the center of the room, a metal tree stump.

The Spy gaped, eyes vibrating and dilating. Breath held.

What...what what what what what what..., the Kranich thought, mind locked in a holding pattern.

Iridescent, color-shifting flesh rippled and twitched, stretched across the far wall. Threaded through metal, pipes, wires, and panels. Strings of saliva stretched between rows of teeth, mouths exuding warm, damp breath. They smiled.

Yellow, pupil-less eyes regarded the newborn hungrily.

"I have a feeling we're going to be," said Mik'hul the Subtle, excitedly, "the best of fri-"

"AAAAAH!" the Kranich cried, tripping over a wire in her haste to back away. Fell on her ass with a crash. "Agh!"

"Whoa!" Circe said, looking back toward her daughter.

"Take it easy," Elster said, holding her arms out. She took a step forward, hooves carefully navigating the tangle of wires on the floor. "It's okay. He can't hurt you..." She frowned. "Ph-physically..."

"Hah...haah..." The Kranich winced, sitting up. Eyes fluttered open, locked on the monstrosity before her. She pointed a shaky hand, heart pounding. "Wh-wh-what IS THAT!?"

"Hmmph," Mik'hul huffed, many mouths frowning. "I have feelings, you know. I don't look that bad, do I, boss?"

"You do," Elster said, without missing a beat.

"R-rude!" Mik'hul said, flinching.

"Here, let me help you up," Circe said, stooping. One hand outstretched, the other leaned heavily on her staff.

"..." The Kranich instead crab-walked backwards, shaking her head. Her back thumped at the foot of the examination table in Medical. "N-no, seriously! What the FUCK is that!?"

"..."

The two other replikas looked at each other, then back at the daemon engine, then sighed.

Reluctantly, Elster stepped back, taking a position in a corner beside the creature. "...mind introducing yourself?" she said, casting a sideways glance.

"With pleasure!" Mik'hul chimed, smiling. He watched the newborn intently. "Sup. Name's Mik'hul, the Trustworthy."

"That's a lie," Circe said, standing up in front of the reactor control panel. "Well, the epithet is..."

"...M-Mik...hool?" the Kranich breathed, dragging herself to her hooves using the examination table. Cold sweat matted her hair and ran down her neck.

It has a name!? she thought, turning her head to side-eye the monster. Wait...'boss'?

"To make a long story short..." Circe said, casting a neutral glance at the living reactor. Then, back to the Spy. "...hell exists, daemons are real, and they serve dark and terrible gods."

"Basically, yes," Elster shrugged, crossing her arms. "Mik'hul is a daemon."

"Hey now, let's not be assassinating characters here," Mik'hul said, many eyes glancing at the Kolibri. "I'll have you know Tzeentch is a bright and colorful god. A god of Knowledge, and Hope..."

"And deceit, and sorcery, and terrible fates," Elster said, nodding her head.

"And good fates too!" Mik'hul whined, eyes turned to face the commander. "Hasn't the Changer of Ways done you a solid or two, boss?"

"Under duress, yes," Elster said, scowling at the daemon. "And he probably engineered us arriving at Phall when we did in the first place!"

Step. Step. Step.

"..." The Kranich wobbled back into the reactor room. Eyes wide, and fixed on the daemon engine. Hand shakily touched her pale face, wiping sweat and brushing black hair from her eyes.

This can't be happening, she thought, chest heaving. Daemons...gods...they aren't...real...

"Are you okay?" Circe said softly, frowning up at the Spy. She glanced at the daemon. "Like we said, he's contained to the reactor. He can't..."

"Why...is a d-daemon..." the Kranich mumbled, hand clutching at her heart, "...in the reactor? HOW is it...?"

"Every day, I ask the same thing," Mik'hul said, tut-tutting. "It's a living, I guess. Hard to stay in this reality, without being bound to a physical form."

"You know that Warp I told you about?" Elster said, frowning. "The other dimension humans use for interstellar travel?"

"...y-yes...?" the Kranich mumbled, stumbling forward and leaning on the central pillar. She glanced at the commander.

"Things live in the Warp," Elster said, arms crossed. "Chief of them, daemons."

"Daemons and ghosts," Circe muttered, glancing up at the skull topping her staff. She reached a hand up and touched her shoulder, eyes closed.

The Kranich glanced between the other replikas, mind racing. "...no...no, no, no...that's...impossible." She shook her head, smiling bleakly, staring down at the ground. "Gods, daemons, ghosts...they don't exist. There's nothing outside our material reality. Just...us."

"...there's more between heaven and earth," Circe said, quietly, "than is dreamed of in your philosophy."

Mik'hul chuckled, muttering, "Oh...you girls have no idea..."

"You remember that 'incident' we talked about, coming in-system?" Elster said. "That traumatized the crew?"

"...?" the Kranich said, looking over at the commander, uncomprehending.

"When people travel through the Warp, they do so with the aid of a device that generates what's called a 'Geller Field'," Elster said. Hands mimed the shape of a circle. "It forms a bubble of reality - a pocket obeying our material natural laws - around the ship. Protecting it not only from the alien physics of a dimension where time and space are at best suggestions, but from the entities dwelling there."

"But that device can fail," Circe said, tapping her staff against the floor once. Stared into space. "The Geller Field can fall away, or at least weaken. When this happens...all hell breaks loose."

"My kind come for a visit," Mik'hul said, smiling. Voice raspy, slow. "And they all have such sights to show you..."

The Kranich shuddered, staring at the daemon. "...no...that's not..."

"We only barely managed to translate back into Realspace," Elster said, leaning forward fractionally. "My kids, they almost..."

"We lost too many," Circe said, closing her eyes. Mouth contorted in pain. "It was so..."

"..."

The Spy wasn't listening. She stared at the wall of flesh.

This can't be happening, she thought, mind racing. Sweat poured down her face. A bad dream. This has to be a bad dream. A figment. A...a...

She froze. Held her breath.

A gear clicked in her head.

...a lie...

"...01?" Elster said, eyebrows rising. "Are you okay?"

"...you think we broke her?" Mik'hul said, smile fading from his many lips. "A pity. She had so much potenti-"

The Kranich stood up straight.

"...you...okay, honey?" Circe said, furrowing her brow. She leaned heavily on her staff.

"..."

The Spy brushed hair behind her ear. Tilted her head to the side.

Frowned. "...is this a joke?"

"...what?" Elster said, blinking. "I...don't understa-"

"No really, what kind of..." The Kranich gestured angrily at the wall of flesh, scowling. "...sick joke is this? Because it's not funny!"

Mik'hul's brows rose. Then, many mouths smiled. "...oooh...well, I think it's funny."

"...baby, no..." Circe mumbled, hunching over. Both hands clung to the staff. "This isn't..."

"How did you make this thing?" the Kranich said, waving nonchalantly at the daemon-engine. "Is it a...grotesque meat-puppet? Is someone down below controlling it, feeding it lines from a speaker?" She sneered at the mass, a shiver running up her spine. "...or...did you fucking grow all this tissue, and slap an actual brain inside?"

"...I didn't..." Elster muttered, frowning. "How could you say that?"

"Why don't you come in here and find out, little lady?" Mik'hul said, tongues lolling out lasciviously. "Use that big brain of yours, and take a looksee..."

"Don't!" Elster yelled, stepping forward. "Don't look in his mind!"

"Why?" the Kranich said, narrowing her eyes at the commander. "Afraid I'll discover the trick? Or worse...that I'll see evidence you've tampered with this creature's mind? Molded it?"

"01, that's enough!" Circe said, planting the staff down on the metal floor with a clank. "You don't know what you're talking abo-"

"Don't I?" the Kranich said, glancing over her shoulder. She glared at the commander. "You may have her, and the rest of them, fooled. But I'm not so easy."

"Fooled?" Elster said, furrowing her brow. She waved a hand. "What are you implying?"

"What did it, LSTR-512?" the Kranich said, crossing her arms imperiously. Inclined her head back. "Was it the years on the edge of space? The Invasion? Hmph...if indeed that even happened." She sneered. "Persona degradation? Or did it just happen naturally?"

"What are you talking about?" Elster said, scowling.

"Heh...unbelievable," the Kranich chuckled, shaking her head. She frowned, pointing hands to her head. "Don't you get it? These things you're telling me? What you told all of them? It's insane! It's nonsense!" She let her arms drop. "I finally figured out what this all is. It's a cult."

"..." Elster deflated, taking a step back. "...what?"

"Whoa, whoa, hang on!" Circe yelled, stepping forward. She stood by the Kranich, trying to grab the newborn's arm. "This isn't..."

"Don't touch me!" the Kranich yelled, ripping her arm away. Turned her whole body to look at them both. "It's obvious!"

"That's crazy!" Elster yelled, pressing a hand to her chest. "This isn't a cult! Why would you say that? I would never..."

"Of course it's a cult! And you're the cult leader!" the Kranich yelled, pointing at the LSTR unit. Scowled in disgust. "Think about it. You take neural patterns of people hand-selected by the Nation for their emotional vulnerability. Create them with no memories within a controlled environment." She clenched her fists, voice faltering in horror. "You love bomb them!" She took a sharp breath, grimacing. "And then you keep them isolated on your little ship for years, providing the only view of reality they have! Controlling every facet of their lives, their worlds!"

Mik'hul whistled. "...damn...this is getting good..."

"No, no, it's not...it's not like that!" Elster said, holding her hands up. Face twisted in horror. "I don't..."

"Why? Why do it?" the Kranich breathed, pounding a fist into the palm of her hand. A wild lock of hair hung across her face. She flashed a delirious smile. "Was it loneliness? Loss? A need to be loved? Is that why you insist on them calling you 'mother'?"

"I didn't ask them to!" Elster yelled, sweat pouring down her face. "That wasn't my idea!"

"But you let it happen!" the Kranich said, pointing an index finger at the ceiling. She half-turned, pointing them at the Kolibri. "You become so central, they can't help but venerate you as the parent. An endless supply of children, to serve your will. And then train them to be mothers to others. Isn't that right?"

"..." Circe stared at the newborn, hand rising to cover her mouth.

"...01, please," Elster breathed, hunching over. "This isn't a cult...I'm not lying or manipulating anyone..."

"I don't believe you," the Kranich seethed, gritting her teeth. Her eyes looked to the floor, as she navigated the tangle of wires and cables. "I don't buy what you're selling, 'Elster'." She leaned a hand against the wall to her right, circling around the commander. Pointed at the wall of flesh. "I don't know what that is, but it's no daemon! Whatever lies you've told the rest of them won't work on me!"

She stalked to the door. Turned toward it, as it 'shing'-d open.

"Daemons and gods aren't real," the Kranich said, making to leave, "and I-"

She stopped. Eyes locked with that of a Eule.

Vanessa stood in the hallway. A look of shock on her face, and tears in her eyes. She frowned, face going red. Vibrated violently.

SLAP.

"Ah!" the Kranich cried, staggering back. Hand clapped to her cheek. She stumbled once again on a cable, pitching back.

"Scheisse!" Elster gasped, rushing forward and catching the newborn. Hands clasped on her shoulders, gritting her teeth. "Van!"

"Van, are you alright?" Circe said, rushing to peek around the others. She frowned, kneeling behind the newborn. "..."

Mik'hul whistled with approval. "Damn, girl!"

"..." The Kranich, sat on the floor, stared up at the Eule in shock. Hand pressed to her red cheek. "...eh?"

Hand outstretched, trembling, Vanessa scowled. Tears ran down her face.

"How dare you!?" the Eule growled, shaking bodily. "You weren't here! You don't know anything!"

"Vanessa, sweetie," Elster said, squatting behind the newborn. She frowned. "It's alright."

"It's not alright!" Vanessa gasped, clenching her fists. She pointed at the Spy, glaring. "You!"

The Kranich flinched. Not merely because of the tone or callout.

Unlike the others, the Eule couldn't, and didn't bother to, hide her feelings. Her thoughts.

A horrific image flashed in her mind. Of horns and clacking claws. Of pungent musk, and spilled oxidizing fluid.

"...what?" the Kranich breathed, recoiling. Phantom goosebumps running across her skin.

"Wh-what we saw..." Vanessa gasped, pointing a trembling finger, "...what we experienced...that was real!" She gritted her teeth. "I...was chased...down halls that didn't make sense! My home, my entire world, turned literally upside down! Chased by a thing that...that wanted to hurt me! That wanted to hurt my sisters! That DID hurt my sisters!"

"Ah!" the Kranich gasped, slapped in the face with an image of a lithe, androgynous beast. With rows of exposed nipples, jutting horns, and a whipping, dripping tongue. The newborn felt the fear the Eule felt, etched in her mind as surely as the image itself.

No...what is this? the Kranich thought, eyes widening.

"Theodora..." Vanessa gasped, clutching the front of her navy blue jumpsuit, face contorted in pain. "...a fucking dog..." She mimed teeth clamping down. "It grabbed her...and broke her neck...l-like it was a stick! My sister is dead, because she just tried to run away!"

"...Vanessa..." Elster gasped, frowning. She pressed a hand to her own chest, wracked with guilt.

"So don't tell me daemons aren't fucking real!" Vanessa yelled, tear-strewn face grown red with rage. "Don't tell me Meryl drowned a lie in a boiling pot, and then beat its face until it was a smear on the floor! Don't tell me Myrtle and Heidi just imagined it when a creature bathed Teasel in flames that turned her into crystal!" She pointed to the floor. "Her statue is still down in storage! I have to pass it every time I get cleaning supplies!"

The image of an Ara, rendered in crystal. A red, fleshy core deep inside, where her heart should be. A final, eternal testament that she once lived. Perfectly preserved, as if in amber.

No! the Kranich thought, shuffling away. Sank deep into the Kolibri's arms. No, no, no!

"Don't tell me Jenny didn't wrestle a beast made of rotting meat inside Hydroponics!" Vanessa yelled, stamping her hoof. "Don't tell me those...Warp-born diseases didn't kill most of our garden! Don't tell me Chicory didn't die in Rose's arms, drowning in her own fluids!"

Dead, shriveled leaves. Slime...putrid slime. Flames, dousing the filth. Smell of char and rot and sickness. An Ara's body, behind quarantine plastic, face obscured by a sheet. Hands folded over her heart, reverently. Another Ara, red of hair, shuffling about with creaking joints for weeks on end. Eyes sallow, haunted.

Please...stop... the Kranich thought, shivering. Pressed a hand over her mouth, as her stomach churned, and her throat closed up.

"Ish...and Breach...fell through a puddle in the showers downstairs..." Vanessa gasped, rubbing tears from her cheek. She gestured to the air beside her. "Fought a daemon shark in the middle of a watery hell..." She gesticulated to the ceiling, then the floor. "...and wound up here." Pointed at the wall of flesh behind them. "Just so they could feed another daemon - with a skull for a face - to THAT THING!"

"Heh heh, yeah!" Mik'hul laughed. "Dinner and a show! That was fun."

"Another fucking...thing with...hooks for arms," Vanessa sputtered, waving at her own appendages, "impaled Bertha! She EVAPORATED right in front of me!" She gasped, brows furrowed in guilt. "And...a-a-and I couldn't...do anything!"

Black, acrid smoke rising from a power-armored replika body. Belched from her open visor, as the figure collapsed. A skull-faced creature, grasping two Aras, causing smoke to waft off them, too, before receding into mist. Each eye socket a window to a pinprick of light, cold and alone amid a skyful of murdered stars.

...please..., the Kranich thought, trembling violently. A tear ran down her cheek, eyes widened to the point of pain. I...I don't...WANT this...I don't want this...to be true...

"Van!" Elster cried, walking toward the Eule. "That's enough!"

"It's okay..." Circe whispered, patting the Kranich's shoulders. Frowned. "Shut it out. Just shut it out. Please..."

"...hck...haah..." Vanessa gasped, hand clapped over her eyes as she sobbed. She squeezed her mother's hand, leaning into a hug. "...Maria...I-I pulled Maria out...of a warding circle drawn in her own oxident..." She shook her head violently. "She won't tell me what happened. S-so...many of my sisters..." She looked up, smiling in pain. Tears flowed freely. "...so many got cornered...taken into dark places. Th-they won't...even now, they r-refuse to say...what happened to them..." She gasped, hunched over. "I-I can't...sleep at night...thinking about what those...monsters did to them...oh Empress!"

No! the Kranich screamed internally, mouth agape. Her mind's eye dominated by the leering, hungry faces of androgynous figures with needle teeth and razor-sharp claws.

"Shh...shh..." Elster cooed, pulling the Eule's head in. Buried the Eule's face in her chest. "Let it out."

"Aaaaah!" Vanessa cried, sobbing uncontrollably as she sank to her knees. Clutched her mother for dear life, venting her sorrow. "Haaah...hic...aah...!"

"...please..." the Kranich sobbed, curling into a ball. Hands grasping the arms that held her. Eyes fixed on the middle distance, body trembling. "...I don't want this...please...make it stop...make it stop..."

"Shh, shh, shh," Circe cooed, rocking the newborn gently. "It's okay...you're safe..."

"...not safe..." the Kranich mumbled, shaking her head. She turned, peeking over her shoulder with dread.

The daemon engine of Tzeentch leered at her. Smiling.

"Sorry, girlie," Mik'hul said. "I'm afraid this is a nightmare you can't wake up from. It's real."

Chapter 115: The Galaxy Is Not Enough

Daemons are real. Gods are real. Hell is real. Fuck, fuck, fuck...!

The Kranich hugged knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. Wool blanket gripped tight around her. Faux leather armchair squeaked with the motion.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Eyes peeked behind messy locks of black hair, staring into space.

Am I going to hell? she thought, heart beating fast. A shiver ran up her spine. I haven't done anything, right? It was my gestalt. She committed all the sins, whatever those were. I'm not to blame, right? I'm...I'm barely two cycles old. Is threatening someone with a gun enough to damn me? Fuck, shit, fuck...!

Shing.

"Hhh!" the Kranich gasped, freezing. Jerked her head over her shoulder, as light poured into the darkened office.

"Don't be scared," Elster said, silhouetted against the light. She carried a tray inside. "It's just me."

"...oh...haaah..." the newborn exhaled, tension flooding out of her chest. She hunched against her legs, burying face into her knees. "...fuck..."

The replika commander set the tray on the desk. "I talked to Rose, our chief medical officer," Elster said, picking up a pair of mugs. "She thought caffeine might be a bit much for you right now. So...I brought some herbal teas. Any preference?"

"...wh-whatever's fine..." the Kranich breathed, rubbing her scalp wearily.

"She also prescribed a sedative, if you need help sleeping," Elster said, waving a plastic shot glass. A pair of pills clacked audibly.

"...that will be nice..." the newborn conceded, peeking up over her knees. Frowned, glancing around. "Whose office is this?"

"Used to belong to the Nomarch's captain," Elster said, moving a side table beside the newborn. She then grabbed the other armchair from the room, lifting. "Nngh. Then, it was mine. The bedroom too." As she carried the furniture to set beside its mate, she jerked her head toward the door behind the desk. "Though I usually sleep 'upstairs', or...well, wherever I happen to be working and there's a sleeping place laid out. Presently, it's Adler's office." She clapped her hands, inspecting the chair's placement. Smiled. "Adler works a lot over on the Duarch these days, so he's allowed you to use this one until we get your own room set up. He just insists you put everything back in its place when you're done."

The Kranich looked down at her knees, then glanced up sheepishly. "Th-thank you."

"No problem," Elster nodded. She inspected a stack of tea bags, before depositing a raspberry flavored one in a steaming mug. Carried them both over. "Here."

"..." The Kranich nodded, glancing at the mug deposited to her right. A white string ran off the side, with a paper tag on the end. She hugged her legs close, staring at the floor.

The replika commander frowned, then quietly took a seat. "..."

The two sat in silence. Only the rhythmic tick of a clock on the wall marked the passage of time.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"..." The Kranich opened her mouth. Closed it. Studied her hands. Still unfamiliar, novel. Weaved her fingers together. Gave a sidelong glance.

The Mother of Machines took a sip from her own mug. Stared into space. Waited. "..."

Finally, the Kranich mumbled, "...how's the girl? Vanessa, right?"

The Spy, of course, memorized the name of every single person she met. A habit she exercised without thinking, or even self-reflection. Just as she feigned uncertainty about the name.

False uncertainty carried a measure of comfort. The duplicity, even perfunctory, a measure of control. Tried to make up for the true uncertainty that ruled her in that moment.

"She's doing better," Elster nodded, holding the mug in her lap. "Not great, but...better."

"I'm sorry," the Kranich said, frowning. Found she actually meant it. "I didn't realize...didn't believe..."

"It's alright," Elster nodded, staring placidly at the steaming liquid. "It's difficult to accept. That the world is bigger than you could possibly imagine. It's easier to think someone is deceiving you..." She looked sidelong at the newborn. "...than the world itself can host such horrors."

"..."

The Spy's face flushed, embarrassed. She averted her gaze. Groped blindly for the mug, picking it up. Steeped the teabag, just to occupy her racing thoughts.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"...why...is there a daemon on your ship?" the Kranich said, finally. Eyes locked on the piping hot liquid, as it discolored further. "...why call it your 'coworker'?"

"..." Elster inhaled. Exhaled. Sipped her tea. Lowered the mug. "The Warp...is not merely another dimension. Nor are its inhabitants merely alien organisms, obeying alien biology and motives." She glanced sidelong at the Spy. "The Warp is inherently tied to, and mutually dependent on, the collective unconscious of all sapient creatures."

The Spy blinked. "...what?" the Kranich said, looking at the commander. "The...collective unconscious?"

"Those species - both derived from humanity's terrestrial kin and xenoforms the galaxy over - that have a capacity for Bioresonance, however slight, feed the Warp" Elster nodded. " Their thoughts, feelings, secrets, desires, and beliefs." She tapped her brow once, and pointed to the air. "It's this sea of cognitive energy that we tap into to perform feats of bioresonance, great and small. And whose currents we ride when we travel across the stars."

"..." The Kranich's eyes widened. She couldn't help it, despite soul-deep training teaching her to maintain a poker face. She looked down at the mug in her hands. "...bioresonance...fueled and created by sapient thought..."

As a replika patterned after a gestalt whose stock in trade was reading and manipulating minds, there was a...sublime poetry to the explanation.

Oh, it sounded like bullshit. But it was that particularly dangerous sort of bullshit: the kind that gratified her own biases. Placed the mental realm, of which she felt herself master, in highest regard.

Intellectual rigor demands I take all matters of the supernatural with a grain of salt, she thought, narrowing her eyes. But I've seen what I've seen. And that Eule...she certainly believed everything she remembered, with utmost clarity. And...this LSTR unit would be a greater expert on the ineffable than I.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"...you didn't answer my questions," the Kranich said, finally. Glanced sidelong at the commander. "How does the nature of the Warp pertain to that thing..." She jerked her head to the ceiling, wincing uncomfortably. "...and to your relationship to it?"

"Fair. Simply put, the Warp is fed by thought and feeling, as I said. Reflects our interior reality." Elster rotated the mug in her hands. Tilted her head to the side, eyes closed. "The deepest parts - the most primordial, feral...shameful - have a prominent presence in the Warp. It goes by many names, by many cultures. Among them...their gods, and their sundry followers, go by the collective title 'Chaos'."

"...Chaos..." the Kranich muttered, clenching her jaw. She looked down, and removed the teabag from her mug. "Continue."

"Here." Elster picked up the wrapper for the teabag and held it out to the newborn. When the latter deposited the spent bag, the commander set it aside. "There are many significant intelligences of the Warp. Of Chaos. Some lesser, some greater. Each reflecting an aspect of subjective reality for the living inhabitants of Realspace." She rubbed her chin pensively, then pointed up. "Think of them like...different polities within a larger geopolitical map."

"...how so?" the Spy blinked, sitting up straighter. Eyebrows rose.

"At the top of the Chaotic foodchain are the Four," Elster said, inclining her head forward fractionally. Expression serious. She held up a fist. "Called the Dark Gods of Chaos, or the Ruinous Powers. They are distinct, and named." She began counting with her fingers. "Khorne, the Blood God. Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways. Nurgle, the Rotfather. And Slaanesh, God of Unspeakable Excess."

The Spy committed each to memory, though she was...iffy on the pronunciation. "...I see..." she said, frowning. "They...really are primordial, aren't they?"

"Yes," Elster nodded, lowering her hand. "Beneath them are their Greater Daemons - avatars for their dark masters, and I suppose you could say their 'generals'. Beneath them their Heralds and Champions, who act as commanders and sergeants, respectively. And beneath them, a vast rabble of lesser daemons, their foot soldiers and war-beasts. Each, in effect, a nation state of their own, headed by an absolute monarch over a hierarchy built on personal strength and charisma. Each 'kingdom' perpetually in alternating competition and cooperation with one another, to expand and maintain their power."

The Spy exhaled, a tension flowing from her chest.

Ah...now THIS..., she thought, narrowing her eyes. Smiled. This I understand. Even among the misbegotten ranks of mankind's literal inner daemons, the name of the game is still 'Realpolitik'.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

A finger tapped her mug. "That creature 'upstairs'..." the Kranich said, eyes darting up for emphasis. "...the one calling himself 'Mik'hul'...claimed to work for this 'Zeench'." She turned her head, to side-eye the commander warily. "Is that your common 'employer'?"

The laugh that followed took the Spy aback.

"...hah hah...oh, no. He wishes," Elster chuckled, shaking her head. Hunched forward, huffing. "No...while Mik'hul is a Tzeentch daemon - born of the same essence that birthed the Architect of Fate - he and I presently work for someone else. A...lesser power. One outside the purview of the Four."

"There are others?" the Kranich said, eyebrows rising. She shut her eyes, the edges of her mouth turning up. "...of course there are. The greater powers who exert influence, and the lesser powers they court or are courted by."

"Precisely," Elster nodded. She stared ahead. "Nowhere is this metaphor more apt...than with the 'arms dealer' of Chaos." She looked soberly to the newborn, and reached out a mental hand. "The Dark Artificer..."

"..." With trepidation, the Kranich accepted psychic contact. Fingers touched fingers. She froze.

The mental image provided her was a loathsome face, drawn in smog and fire, framed in black lightning. A trio of fiery openings, one a grill mouth, topped by the curving suggestion of horns.

A face that sent shivers up the newborn's spine. Her eyes dilated, as phantom goosebumps broke out over artificial skin.

"...Vashtorr, the Arkifane," Elster said, gravely, fixing the image in her mind. "Master of the Soul Forges."

The newborn recoiled, nearly losing purchase on the mug in her trembling hands. "...th-th-this..."

Elster withdrew psychic contact, eyebrows furrowed guiltily. "I'm sorry, 01. I shouldn't have..."

"No no! I-I'm fine...!" the Kranich said, smiling sheepishly. She gingerly raised her mug and gulped deeply. Let warm water rush down her throat. "Haah...what...does this 'Arkifane' w-want, exactly?"

"Apotheosis, I think," Elster said, flatly. She hunched over, eyeing the newborn unhappily. "Whatever the case, as a demi-god of malign artifice, Vashtorr is obsessed with, and empowered by, mortals pushing science beyond the limits of understanding, morality, and simple physics."

Tick. Tick.

"...and you...work for this being?" the Kranich said, raising an eyebrow.

Mentally noted the implication that the 'demi-god' longed to ascend to full divinity. In essence, become a power player unto himself. Another reassuringly political motivation, even if married to the aspect of the mother of all mad scientists.

"Not...by choice," Elster said, carefully. She looked away. "At least...I made the pact, but...under duress."

"...what does the Dark Artificer have over you?" the Kranich said, habit taking over. Prodding her new commander for information.

Elster sat back. Face upraised. Expression of pained joy. "...my girlfriend," she said, smiling. "My own personal goddess. Ariane Yeong."

"..." The Spy nodded. A gear turned in her head. "...your gestalt pilot. The one from your Penrose mission."

"Yes," Elster nodded, closing her eyes.

"She means everything to you, doesn't she?" the Kranich said, setting the mug down on the side table. "Enough to make a deal with the devil?"

"I would do anything for Ariane," Elster breathed, a rumble in her throat. Eyes cracked open, brows furrowed severely. Stared at the ceiling.

"I see," the Kranich said, folding her hands in her lap.

Suspicions confirmed, she thought. The commander's motivations go beyond mere survival or familial attachment, strong though the latter has become.

"...how did it come about?" the Kranich said, clapping softly in her lap. "This 'pact'?"

Elster pinched the bridge of her nose. "Apologies...it's a long story, and..." She laughed softly, smiling. "Shahrazad - one of Circe's kids - tells it better. She has a flair for the dramatic. She can do the whole production for you, if you ask."

I'd get a better impression learning it from the horses mouth, but..., the Spy thought. She shrugged. "If that's your preference..."

"Suffice to say..." Elster said, weaving her hands together, "Ariane and I...when the Penrose ran its course, and the Nation left us to die a slow and painful death..." She sighed. "Vashtorr appeared, offering escape. In return for souls for his infernal mills...or an equivalent in favors."

"Souls...sacrificed?" the Kranich said, looking sidelong at the commander with narrowed eyes. "That's not...what all those children are for, is i-?"

"No," Elster said flatly, resolutely. Turned her head fractionally to the Spy. "...No. Just...offered upon death. There's a reason I walk the mercenary path."

"Apologies," the Kranich said, smiling and holding up her hands. Bowed her head. She looked up at the commander. "But...a murder-based exchange?"

"Yes."

"Or...'favors'?" the Kranich said, tilting her head. "You are the Arkifane's agent?"

"More or less," Elster nodded, scratching her head. "As it turns out, daemons living in the Warp have difficulty effecting their will on the material world. They need mortal hands." She looked sidelong at the newborn. "If the lesser daemons are the standing armies of Chaos, their mortal followers are the insurgents, spies, saboteurs, diplomats, and recruiters."

And we, the Spy thought, ruefully, are the assistants and intermediaries for that agent.

Tick. Tick.

"I see," the Kranich nodded. "That is why you're so far from Eusan, isn't it? Doing your lord's will?"

"Yes," Elster said. She stood up, knocking back the last of her tea. Sighed. "...I'm afraid this Civil War between Imperial factions is even more complicated than I let on." She looked sadly at the newborn. "Horus Lupercal isn't acting alone, and not just with his fellow Primarchs, parts of the Mechanicum, and other sundry forces. He has pledged himself to the Ruinous Powers."

She clacked her mug down on the table between them. "And they, collectively, to him. Horus is empowered by Chaos Undivided." The Blade of the Arkifane narrowed her eyes. "With their backing, he rides on Terra. And all the forces of Hell ride with him, so long as his followers open the way."

"..." The Kranich felt her gut drop. Color rushed from her face. "...I...see..."

All well and good, to think of the forces of the Warp as merely Nations, attempting to exert their will. It dawned on the newborn that they were still daemons. Dark Gods, mighty and terrible and of endless forms most hideous. Monsters born of humanity's darkest passions, whose breath blighted the living, and whose flames mutated and crystallized. Desire, power, and violence rendered down to their basest forms.

Maelstroms of unreal energies, given shape and WILL. Living violations of normal physics, hungry to burst into the mortal world.

These things...had won over one of the mightiest people in the galaxy to their banners. A man with half the galaxy under his command.

And I'm more or less married to the cause of a woman who serves, at best, a bit player in this drama, the Kranich thought, oxident running cold. A glorified weapons smith and gun runner, with delusions of grandeur.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"..." The Kranich inhaled. Exhaled. Permitted herself...a small smile.

Then again, I DO relish a challenge.

"Are you okay?" Elster said, stretching her arms.

"I will...adapt," the Kranich said. She picked up her mug, and drowned the rest of the tea. Clacked it on the table, fingers resting on the rim. "Our objective?"

"First, survive," Elster said, crossing her arms. "Preferably with everyone's sanity intact. I'm in this for the long haul, whether I like it or not. I can afford to take our time. Second, secure the long-term interests of my children, and replika-kind more broadly. Hence, our salvage operations. Third, exploit this war to make as big a dent in my debt as possible. Get Ariane back."

"Ariane is not with you?" the Kranich said, cocking an eyebrow.

Then again, she thought, if the Yeong woman is Elster's primary motivation, carrying her into a warzone would be counterproductive.

"No," Elster sighed, rubbing her temple. "Vashtorr has her in his own realm, in temporal stasis. We only meet in dreams, at his discretion. A...way of keeping me motivated."

The Kranich frowned. "...this...is a complicated arrangement."

She still harbored the suspicion, however less probable given current data, that the LSTR unit might be delusional. Or hallucinating. Or deceived.

"Tell me about it," Elster breathed, rubbing her face in her hands.

"The current plan?" the Kranich said, leaning back and crossing her legs.

"After that daemonic incursion," Elster groaned, rubbing her eye, "the crew was in no shape to keep fighting. It was hard enough getting them the rest of the way here. We're taking a working sabbatical for the next year." Hands waved dismissively at the air. "This system has a truly preposterous amount of salvage, waiting to be collected. The primary goal is to get the Duarch, and any other vessels that seem promising, up and running. From there..." She sighed, shaking her head.

"A bridge worth crossing when it comes," the Kranich said, propping her cheek up on an armrest. She rubbed her own eyes, feeling bags forming. "..."

"If you're tired, I can let you sleep," Elster said, rubbing the back of her neck. "Remember to take your sedative. It might help...with any bad dreams..."

"I'm fine, I..." The Kranich yawned, clapping a hand over her mouth. Smacked her lips.

Despite how wired she felt, now that she finally had a better impression of the 'game board' at play, the Kranich felt her body betray her. "...I'll probably need those pills," she sighed. Placed hands on the armrests, glancing up. "...just...one more question."

"Sure," Elster sighed, rubbing her temples. "Shoot."

"What is my purpose here?" the Kranich said, flatly. Brows furrowed uneasily. "Why...go to all this trouble? What do I contribute to this operation, exactly?"

"I mean, while we're putting war-operations on hold to pursue projects here," Elster said, finger tracing the scar between her eyes idly, "we'll have many more engagements yet during this conflict. A war that only promises to intensify, as Lupercal's forces tighten the noose around Terra."

"Ah, I see," the Kranich said, closing her eyes and bowing her head. Fingers laced together, pensively. "You require an intelligence officer. I presume until now, your people have largely muddled through matters of diplomacy and intel gathering?"

"That we have," Elster nodded, crossing her arms. She sighed, eyeing the floor. "We can't afford to be making those kinds of rookie mistakes. Not when...we're about to massively expand our forces. Materials and space have been the limiting factor so far, constrained to the Nomarch and what we can barter, scrounge, and steal. Now, both are set to be in great supply." Her mouth turned into a sober line, as she looked at the Spy. "As part of this, I won't limit us to just units I have personal experience with anymore. Everything is on the table."

"Including spies," the Kranich nodded. She raised her head, smiling. "I'm flattered you thought so highly of my abilities."

"..." Elster's mouth turned down into an uneasy frown. "There's...an additional reason why I insisted on creating a Kranich, however. And it's...a bit unorthodox."

"Hmm?" the Kranich hummed, cocking her head to the side. "How so?"

"..." The commander sighed. Turned, and stalked to the desk. One hand scratched her scalp, the other traced the wooden surface. "You've seen firsthand, in a manner of speaking, the...psychological effect the recent daemonic incursion left on the crew."

"...yes," the Kranich said, frowning. A chill ran up her spine. "...how many were lost?"

"Eight," Elster said, rubbing the lump in her throat. Pushed it down. "I know I should be grateful, that only that few died. But..."

The Kranich crossed her leg, slumping deep in her chair. Eyes studied the commander over her clasped hands, elbows propped on the armrests. "...they were your 'children'," she said, softly. "One cannot fault you for your feelings of loss. My condolences."

"Thank you," Elster said, rubbing her face. She turned fractionally, casting a glance over her shoulder. "For as much as it affects me...the crew...the kids have it worse. I'm used to bearing with tragedy, and violence, and...horror. I work for a daemon, verdammt. But them...nothing I could have done could prepare them for that."

"..." the Kranich pursed her lips, a mote of trepidation in her stomach. "What was it like? This...incursion?"

"Like hell itself leaked into my ship - into their home - and turned it all upside down," Elster said, staring into space with narrowed, furious eyes. Clenched her jaw. "Literally. Gravity, space, matter, time. Not only did the Nomarch crawl with blasphemies given Warp-wrought flesh, the...the very ship went wrong. Twisted by alien physics and malign symbolism. It...betrayed them. The children who knew almost nothing else."

"I...can't imagine what that must be like," the Kranich said, frowning. Sat up in her seat, hand caressing the upholstery. "...I apologize, but...what does this have to do with me again?"

"..." Inhale. Exhale. The commander rubbed her eyes, and turned fully to the Spy. Sat on the edge of the desk. "...as an infiltrator, your neural pattern carries with it a wealth of information and skills. Not least of which...a mastery of psychology. You...know people. How they think, how they tick. How to insinuate yourself in their confidence, and induce them to spill what they know. Is this not so?"

"It is so, yes," the Kranich nodded, suppressing a trepidation in the back of her mind about being so...forthright with her very nature. Old habits die hard. Sometimes, it seemed, old habits outlived the habitual. She rubbed thumb and fingers together, to steady herself. Inclined her head forward. "For use in intelligence operations, I can understand. But I don't..."

Her eyebrows rose fractionally. A gear turned in her head. "...wait...you don't mean...?"

Elster smiled sheepishly. Lowered her eyes. "I...didn't know what else to do," she said, a nervous chuckle in her throat. Glanced up again. "I'm...not a psychologist. Not a doctor, or...social worker. I've done my best to hold my crew - my family - together, as best I can. As a leader, and...as a mother." She sighed, rubbing her face with one hand. "But I'm just...not good at this. Not nearly good enough, to deal with what's happened."

"You're joking," the Kranich said, climbing to her hooves. Steadied herself on the back of the chair, frowning. "I'm...you expect me to..." She clapped her hands together, eyes darting around in disbelief. She focused on the commander, and turned clapped hands toward her. "...be a therapist?"

Lips pursed. Eyes wandered away. Fingers drummed against the desk. Elster gritted her teeth, embarrassed, lips upturned. "...yes?"

"..." The Kranich blinked. Then, slowly, buried her face in her hands.

"Only if you want to!" Elster added, holding a hand up. She frowned. "I won't make you do anything against your will. You're...free to pursue whatever you-"

The Kranich paced the room, face twitching. Hands unable to stop fidgeting and rubbing together, eyes downcast to the floor.

Tick. Tick.

Can't believe this, she thought, mind racing. A ship's counselor, a shrink, a...my talents, wasted on... She rubbed her tired eyes, groaning. 'Free to pursue whatever you...' As if it were so easy...so easy to...

A hoof hovered over the floor. The Spy stopped pacing. Looked at the commander.

"...are..." Elster said, shrinking, "...are you okay?"

The Kranich wheezed. Buried her face in her hands, this time chuckling to herself. When she revealed her face again, she was smiling. "...hooo...and here," she breathed, shaking her head, "I convinced myself you really were as guile-less as any 'normal' LSTR unit."

"...what?" Elster said, cocking her head to the side. "I assure you, there's no trick here."

"Oh, I know," the Kranich said, clenching a fist to her heart. Her expression a mix of cool and resignation. Shook her head again. "But well...you can't show me all you have, and expect me to just..." She shivered, staring at the floor. "...walk away?"

"..." The replika commander closed her mouth.

"I mean, setting aside the impossibility of me leaving and finding parties able, much less willing, to help a replika maintain herself," the Kranich said, waving dismissively, "I...I can't just...let it go."

She smiled sadly at the floor, a knot in her chest. Thought of...all those replikas aboard.

Vanessa, Myrtle, Meryl, Maria, Teasel, Theodora, Ish, Breach, etc. the Kranich thought, trained memory recall drawing up names automatically, reflexively. I can't forget these names. The living and the dead. The...victims of this attack. This...tragedy. It's not fair. I didn't ask to know these names. I didn't ask to...know their fates, and the faces of their attackers. Their murderers. It's. Not. Fair.

"I can't...couldn't...live, with myself," the Kranich said, clutching a trembling hand to her face. "Not when I pass these people in the halls, and know what they've experienced. To be able to sense their pain, and...know I could..."

"..." Elster stood up. Spread her arms lazily. "...so?"

"You are the daughter of a bastard," the Kranich muttered, bitterly. Hid her face, hunched over, deflated.

"I am the daughter of a Nation that made weapons and tools out of people," Elster retorted, smirking. "So, yes, your assessment is perfectly correct. Will you help?"

"..."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Inhale. Exhale.

The Kranich stood up straight, a smile on her face.

Well, in for a rationmark..., she thought, with a sigh. Tilted her head to the side.

"KNCR-N0601, Spy, intelligence officer, and...amateur therapist, at your service!"

Chapter 116: Dr. No (Open Appointment Slots)

Jutting horns. Whipping tails and writhing tongues. Lascivious mouths replete with needle-teeth. Rotting flowers. Bleached skulls.

Far above, a trio of baleful orbs. The sky shone with furnace-light, with a grill for a mouth. Fire-eyes stared down at her, pinning her in place like an insect in a frame.

Suddenly, the smog clouds and visions parted, revealing...the void.

An all-consuming, girl-shaped void. A living abyss that hungered for the woman's soul. Air filled with a noisome drone, that increased in pitch and volume. The creature - the nightmare thing - approached. Closer. CLOSER.

The silhouette drew a gun. Cocked the hammer back. Pointed at-

 

Knock, knock.

"Hhh!"

Eyes shot open. Heart raced. A stabbing pain in the head.

Staring at the ceiling, the Kranich's fingers gripped the sheets. Sat up. "Haah...haah..."

Caustic drill boring at the edge of her mind almost dispelled the lingering fear of moments before. Almost.

A dream...just a dream..., she thought, burying her face in her hands. Shuddered.

Knock, knock.

"Mrr..." the Kranich shivered, hugging herself. Cast a glance toward the door. Took a deep breath. Sat cross-legged on the bed, and gripped her knees. Attempted to master herself. "...y-yes?"

She knew who it was before the door slid open.

Shing.

"...heeeey..." the Fledermaus said, placing a hand on the door frame and sliding half her face around the corner. Even without thick bangs, her eyes would disappear in the gloom. Expression only visible at all from the dim safety lights ringing the walls of the captain's quarters. She frowned. "...you...okay?"

Hard swallow. The Kranich, too rattled to put on a false smile, managed a neutral purse of the lips. "...why do you ask?"

"Uhh..." Marceline scratched her cheek, tilting face down toward the floor. "Mom...that is, Elster, told me that Circe sensed..." She scratched her scalp. "...you weren't...sleeping too well?"

"...of course..." the Kranich sighed. Of course 'mom' and 'grandma' are monitoring me. But if they're worried about me, why send...her?

She shivered, gripping her knees. Discovered her eyes resolutely downcast. Unwilling...no, unable to look at the girl. With a concerted effort, she raised her face.

Another shiver ran up her spine, seeing the...filthy creature, with her disheveled hair. The Kranich shut her eyes automatically.

Mistake.

She leaned back sharply, as the dim view of the girl hunched at the door fell away, replaced with a girl-shaped void. A blind spot in her bioresonant senses, as distinct as it was obscene.

"Ngh!" the Kranich gasped, clutching her chest. Forced her eyes open. At least the Fledermaus's physical form was unassuming. Pathetic, even. It didn't inspire the same...deep-seated dread.

Undoubtedly, still dreadful. But...it was only a feeling. The Spy could hide the impression behind her physical senses.

"I-I'm sorry!" Marceline muttered, ducking further behind the doorframe. Peeked only a single, unseen eye around. "I'm hurting you, aren't I? I can go..."

"..." The Kranich, panting, frowned. "...wait."

Half-turned away, the 'Maus glanced back. Crept to the door again. Maintained her distance. "...y-yeah?"

"...do...do you..." the Kranich glanced away, trying to choose her words over the buzzing in her head. Forced herself to look at the girl. "...do you remember...anything about your gestalt's life?"

"..." Marceline scratched her cheek, frowning. Shrugged. "Naw. I don't. At least, not much specific. Why?"

"You don't remember...killing anyone?" the Kranich said, apprehensively.

"Nope," Marceline said. "The only one I know I killed, I did it before I was born."

"Before you were...?" the Kranich said, narrowing her eyes. "So...you know your gestalt killed at least one person?"

"Don't know about that. Probably." The Fledermaus smiled sheepishly. Tapped her temple. "No, I mean my head-meats. Daisy says she shoved my brain into a replika body that was possessed by a daemon. Said she howled like hell, before she died. Isn't that cool?"

"..." The Kranich blinked. "Wat."

Replika bodies can be possessed? she thought, mind racing. Daemons can die? And from a...Blank?

"You okay?" Marceline said, tilting her head to the side.

"I have...so many questions..." the Kranich sighed, deflating. Rubbed her face with one hand. "I'm too tired for this."

"O-okay...sorry," Marceline said, tapping the tips of her index fingers together. Face downcast. "I'm...stopping you from sleeping, aren't I? I'll...get out of your hair..."

"..." The Kranich exhaled, flopping back down on her pillow. Legs unfolded beneath her sheets. Inability to flex toes still a novel experience. She frowned, lifting her head. "...Marcy, was it?"

"Yeah?" the 'Maus said, once more half-turned away. Looked over her shoulder, hand rested on the door frame.

"Blanks...harm daemons?" the Kranich said, weakly. Mentally cursed not just allowing the creature to depart. Due diligence demanded, and the Spy obeyed. "Your proximity was enough to kill one?"

"Mmhmm!" Marceline nodded. "Mom says she made me partly as a defense against them." She frowned, hunching over. "So what happened...won't happen again."

The daemonic incursion..., the Spy thought, propping herself up on one arm. Mouth twitched, curiously. Elster, you clever minx. You would endure this creature, just to protect them...from your own 'employer's' kind...

"Anyway," Marceline said, looking down at the floor. "I'm...sorry for scaring you the other day."

"That's...quite alright," the Kranich frowned. Took a deep breath. Forced down her own revulsion. "You...did as you were told, to neutralize a threat to your mother and commander. I was the one out of line."

"Still...I..." Marceline frowned sadly, glancing up at the Spy. "I know...what it's like to be scared, and confused. To wake up, and face death." She huffed. "No one should have to deal with that. Least of all on their first day."

"..." The Kranich's eyes widened fractionally. This girl...

When her eyes blinked, she saw the after-image of a destroyer. But with eyes open, a different memory rose. A snapshot of the creature squatting before her, reaching out...only to stop. To pull back, even before being ordered.

We are opposites, you and I, the Spy thought, narrowing her eyes. And yet...you saw in me a mirror of yourself. A shadow, stared into a mirror lightly.

"...so...uh," the Fledermaus mumbled, running fingers through her hair. "I'll...let you sleep. And...even though I hurt to be around...don't hesitate to come to me, if you've got a daemon problem. Okay?"

"..." The Kranich, blinking, sighed. "I'll...keep that in mind..."

"Alright," the Fledermaus nodded. She turned to leave, then stopped. Spoke over her shoulder. "Have you...settled on a name yet?"

"..." The Kranich slumped back on her pillow, huffing. Spread her arms out to either side. Stared at the ceiling.

It resembled picking a cover identity. Except...besides an alpha-numeric designation, it would be the only name she possessed. While she could rattle off a fake name at the drop of a hat, choosing a real one proved harder.

As such, it took a while to compose a mental list. Now...she had to pin one down. Not...that she couldn't change it later, if she chose. But...

The Kranich permitted herself a small smile.

"...for now...call me..."

 

"Doctor Natasha?"

Automatic door 'shing'd' shut. Muffled foot and hoof traffic outside. Rustle of papers. Ticking wall clock.

She adjusted the gray jacket draped over her shoulders, a match to her skirt. Gifts a team of Eules delivered to her temporary room.

Speaking of...

The Kranich sat up in a leather armchair, to meet her first patient.

"Oh, I'm not a doctor," Natasha chuckled, tapping the top of her clipboard. "Neither my gestalt nor I earned doctorates. Though I suspect I could play one admirably, given the right cover story." She crossed her legs. Looked down at the paper. "Let's see...Meryl, was it?"

"Mmhmm!" the Eule nodded, venturing into the room. Eyed bookshelves lined with volumes and three-ring binders, freshly assembled. Looked down at her hooves, as they trudged across freshly replaced carpet, free of ruddy stains. Office once belonging to a minor functionary on the Duarch, newly refurbished. "Sorry I took so long. Breakfast rush and all that. And then I had to catch a shuttle over here."

"It's quite alright," Natasha said. Took up a mechanical pencil, and gestured to the couch spread out beside the armchair. "If you'll get comfortable, we can begin."

Meryl sighed, sinking into the padded couch. Rubbed her shoulders. "Thank you. Whew..."

"Long morning?"

"Yes," Meryl breathed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Hand combed through blue hair. "Always is."

"Tell me about it. And I mean that non-rhetorically, I'd like to know," Natasha said, wagging the pencil. "How long have you been working the Nomarch's kitchens?"

"Oh, since I was 'born'," Meryl said, eyes fluttering half-open to stare at the ceiling. "Back then, Van and I - that is, Vanessa - were just trying to figure out how all the Empire equipment worked. Different standards, slightly damaged equipment." She rubbed her temple, sighing. "Empress, that was back before we got the piano or the stereo systems to work. It stressed Van out so much, she started pulling her hair out. And, well...she kind of never stopped..."

Maladaptive stress response, Natashe thought, nodding. Filed that detail in her internal notepad, to be sorted later. "You and Vanessa. You're close?"

"As close as sisters can be," Meryl said, smiling. Sighed, smile fading. "At least, for a while. Nothing happened, mind you. It's just...with every new replika, the work just piles up more and more. I had to train three new kitchen shift heads, just to give myself time to think."

"I'm told you've been training more staff, to get the Duarch's many kitchens up and running," the Kranich said, pencil scratching out notes on the clipboard. "Is this a source of new stress?"

"Definitely," Meryl nodded, crossing her arms. She arched her back, until her coated steel spine audibly popped. "Hooo...if the Empire's equipment took a while to decipher, the Imperium's was even worse." She cracked a smile. "It's...stimulating, I'll give it that. Like solving a really hard puzzle. Still, I'm glad we got it sorted. I prefer working on the Nomarch. Familiar...less time spent walking..."

"The Duarch IS a massive ship, isn't it?" Natasha said, smiling.

"..."

Silence broken only by thin graphite on paper, and a ticking wall clock facing patient and erstwhile professional.

"..." The Kranich thumbed the mechanical pencil, then glanced sidelong at her subject. "Is there something wrong?"

"This...isn't why I'm here, is it?" Meryl said, frowning. "To talk about my work."

"You tell me. There is no itinerary or objective," Natasha said, sitting back. "You are free to speak about whatever you like. And I happen to think getting to know you is a good place to start."

For better or worse, the Kranich thought, sighing, I'm prepared to be at this for a while. It's not like I'm going anywhere until the hour is up.

"...but that's not the problem," Meryl huffed, sitting up. Stared at the wall. Frowned. "I wouldn't have signed up for a slot, if it was just a matter of socializing."

"...no, I suppose not," Natasha said, closing her eyes and nodding. "As I said, we can talk about anything. Your choice."

The Eule laced her fingers together in her lap. Stared at her hooves.

"...have..." Meryl paused. Closed her eyes. Furrowed her brow. Sighed. "...you probably wouldn't remember. But do you have...any memories of your gestalt...caving in a person's skull with a cast iron pan?" She hastily looked over, frowning. "A daemon, I mean."

"..."

The Therapist side-eyed her patient. Scratched a note on her pad.

So it begins, Natasha thought, exhaling through her nose. And here, I feared it might be boring...

"No. I can't say I do. If you're so inclined, let's talk about that..."

 

"...and...fuck, that's when I see her. Rising up from the damn floor."

"Your friend?" Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. Pencil poised over the page. "The one who died? Hippolyta?"

"Yeah," Kite nodded, crossing one long leg over another. Body reclined on the couch. The Star gestured toward the floor. "Just...phased right through. She was a ghost, if I wasn't clear. Which, come to think it, she kind of was."

"N-no, I...gathered that..." The Kranich frowned, hunched forward. "I apologize. I...have difficulty believing in...ghosts."

Not...entirely true..., Natasha thought, furrowing her brow. Something deep inside made her oxidizing fluid chill in her veins, and her polyethylene skin break out in phantom goosebumps.

An axiom, that rose unbidden from her subconscious. Like a message directed to her, straight from her gestalt: 'Do not acknowledge the dead. Pretend they're not there. Or you'll never know a moment's peace.'

Perhaps her gestalt knew all along. But either chose to believe they were hallucinations, or...

"I didn't really believe either, until I saw Hip," Kite chuckled, rubbing her scalp through auburn hair. "I mean, Circe said she talked to her. But it's a different thing to see her just...appear!" She shut her eyes, blushing. "Pops out of nowhere to ice a horror - literally, she freezes it solid with a ghost gun - like it were nothing. And there I was, hunched over and bleeding from a stab wound. Talk about embarrassing!"

"I...I see..." Natasha said, swallowing. She furiously scribbled a note on her page, just to center herself. "How...did this reunion make you feel?"

"Shocked...overjoyed...guilty..." Kite said, resting hands on her stomach. Frowned. "I should have been there. Back on Xana. Maybe then, she wouldn't have..."

"Let's...not beat ourselves up over what might have been, shall we?" the Kranich said, flashing an uneasy smile. She needed to redirect the conversation. "So...did you get an opportunity to speak to Hippolyta? Or...was she even able to?"

"Yeah, we shared a few words," Kite nodded. "I wanted to say more, but..." She sighed. "Hip had to fly off. Said Hec was in danger, and needed her help. Couldn't full well say 'no' to that, could I?"

"..." Natasha scratched notes, before pausing. Looked over to the couch. "...I'm sorry. Who is 'Hec'?"

The Star laughed.

"You should know. She's your..."

 

"Sister."

The Kranich's mouth twitched. "...c-come again?"

Her eyes couldn't stop staring at the Kolibri's nubby horns.

"Or half-sister, I guess," Hecate said, flashing a full set of teeth. Propped her cheeks up on her hands, themselves propped on her crossed legs. She leaned forward, staring from the couch with mischief. "You talk to any ghosts yet?"

"...I...have not," the Kranich said, turning her head to look sidelong at the Kolibri. Natasha opened her mouth to speak, then clapped it shut. A shiver ran up her spine.

She reached out with her mind. How many ghosts are around?

Hecate furrowed her brows, smiling. Loads, at least on the Duarch. Lots of folks died when their Geller Field malfunctioned, same as on the Nomarch. Surprised you haven't seen them.

"..." The Kranich swallowed hard, fighting down the panic threatening to overwhelm her. She smiled uneasily. "A-anyway...I'm...told you were...possessed...?" She hunched over further. "Do you...want to talk about that?"

"Sure," Hecate shrugged, leaning back with her arms crossed behind her head. "Called himself Atavast the Lunarch, Herald of Tzeentch. Servant of the Tome Eater, whoever that is."

Natasha blinked, pencil paused in scribbling. "How do you spell...?" She sat up ramrod straight. "Nevermind. Forget I asked."

While intel about the hosts of hell may prove advantageous, she couldn't shake the feeling getting a direct mental link to the Kolibri's mind about the topic might prove...a cognito-hazard.

"He was a bitch," Hecate said, grinning. "We kicked his ass, and made him pay for the pleasure."

"H-how, exactly?" Natasha said, a bead of sweat breaking out on her cheek.

"Mom and my sisters, and Trinity for that matter, fought through his lesser daemon minions, and dog-piled me," Hecate said, punching a fist into the palm of her hand. "While I was fighting him from the inside. Then, when I let them in, Hippolyta helped us tie him up. And I used his True Name against him. It was awesome."

"T-True Name?" the Kranich said, frowning.

"Exactly what it sounds like," the Kolibri said, swaying back and forth where she sat. "Atavast's true, full name. The one the universe itself knows him by. The name he doesn't tell anyone. He tried to steal my body. So I stole the name out of his mind in return, when he wasn't looking. Turnabout is fair play."

Natasha crossed her leg. "And that...helped?"

"Names have power," Hecate said, voice dropping in volume. She inclined her head back fractionally. "Especially in the Warp. Especially for daemons, who are ideas given form. You know one's True Name, you can make 'em do practically anything."

"..." The Kranich blinked. Nodded. "I...see."

She filed that tidbit of information away for later.

"...on...another point," Natasha said, scribbling on her clipboard. Looked over at the Kolibri. "You were possessed. By a daemon of the Lord of Change, right?"

"Yep," Hecate said, curtly. Nodded.

"Is that why your...uh..." Natasha pointed awkwardly at the Kolibri's head.

"The horns? Yeah." Hecate tapped her nubs playfully. "He tried to change my body. Make it more to his liking. Horns included. Rude."

"Can you...remove the horns?" the Kranich said, frowning. "Now that the daemon's gone?"

"Could," the Kolibri shrugged, arms crossed behind her head again.

Mouth opened. Closed. "...then why don't you?"

"Cause they're freakin' cool!" Hecate cried, grinning like a loon. She furrowed her brow. Tapped a horn resolutely. "And...because it's a trophy. Proof that I tangled with a daemon directly, and won."

"With help," Natasha reminded, pointing at the Kolibri. "You had your cadre, the Eule Trinity...even a ghost."

The smile dropped from Hecate's face. She cast a downward glance, eyes sad. "..."

"...Hecate?" the Kranich said, staring at the silent girl.

"Sorry, I just..." Hecate huffed.

Then, she smiled.

"...step-mom is pretty great, isn't she?"

 

"...I moved over to the Duarch, as soon as they said it was okay."

The Kranich nodded, scratching a note. "Any particular reason why? Or is that...?"

The Ara hugged her knees close. Oxide red robes warm against the brown leather couch. She averted her gaze, inclining her head forward. Metal hard-hat, shaped like folded paper, tipped down to hide her face. "I couldn't...stand moving through the 4F-8 hallway. It's a major chokepoint for hoof traffic."

Scratch. Lifting her pencil, the Kranich cross-referenced her internal map of the Nomarch. "...did something happen there? During the attack?"

"...door," the Ara said, hands clutching her knees tight. "Door. To the...the Weights Dorm..."

"Weights Dorm?"

"Used to be a small gym," the Ara nodded, "for the gestalt crew to...exercise, I guess. Replikas don't need to lift weights or train anything, except maybe our hearts and lungs. So we converted it into more dorm space."

"I see," Natasha nodded. "...what happened? If you're comfortable..."

"Door...it..." the Ara shivered. "It...tried to eat me."

Pencil stopped. The Kranich inclined her head back. Turned it slowly to the side.

"...the door..." Natasha said, eyebrows rising, "...tried to eat you?"

Despite herself, the Ara met the Kranich's eyes. Then sat up, legs flopping down in front of her.

"I apologize if I offended you," the Kranich said, raising a hand plaintively. "I'm not doubting you. I'm just trying to understand..."

The Ara stood, and hiked up her robe.

"...oh..." Natasha breathed, eyes widening.

Studied discolored polyethylene, where large bite marks running horizontally across the Ara were hastily repaired. Physical marks of great jaws, as they attempted to chew and consume the woman.

"...like I said," the Ara muttered, dropping her robe and sitting back down. Hands on her knees, eyes downcast. "Door tried to eat me."

"..."

The Kranich studied the Ara's face, dumbstruck. Mouth twitched and wiggled, unsure what expression to assume to best mollify her target/patient.

"I...I see..." Natasha looked down, scratching a note. "I'm very sorry. How...are you feeling?"

The Ara's shoulders sagged.

"...well..."

 

"...can't sleep."

Pencil scratched.

"I see," Natasha nodded, flipping through pages. "Your sister Vanessa tells me she found you shivering in a...warding circle...scrawled in your own...oxidizing fluid..." She frowned, letting the pages drop down. "...you're bioresonant?"

"Yes," Maria nodded, hands clasped in her lap. Eyes glanced up at the Kranich. "I've always had a...sixth sense, I guess. Circe recruited me to put wards on the ship, prior to...the attack." Her voice tapered off, as she shrank in on herself.

"Is what happened that day the cause of...your inability to sleep?" Natasha said, tapping her mechanical pencil quietly against her clipboard. She turned her head fractionally. "We don't need to discuss it, if..."

"N-no, it's...fine," Maria said, hand reaching up to twirl a finger around one of her brown pigtails. "I...I want to talk about it. Need to. It's...why I signed up for this..."

"If you're sure," Natasha nodded, making a note. "Start wherever you like."

"I was in the security room, monitoring the cameras and radio," Maria said, twiddling her thumbs. "When the Geller Field shut off...it all went to hell. All across the ship." She took a shuddering breath, centering herself. "When I saw the daemons on the screens, I...felt them. Felt them coming, converging on my room."

"How did it make you feel?" Natasha said. "Sensing these daemons?"

"Terrified," Maria breathed, hands clenching for a moment. "Horrified, at what I was seeing onscreen. I...I don't want to talk about...what I saw."

"That's perfectly fine," the Kranich nodded, scratching a note. "What do you want to talk about?"

"When I finished warding the door, th-the daemons couldn't get through," Maria nodded, swallowing. Smiled weakly. "I thought I was safe. I thought I was..." Her smile faded. "But...one of them...didn't come through the door. It...manifested."

"Manifested?" Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. "From thin air?"

"F-from the screens," Maria mumbled, shivering. "Burst out, destroyed some of them. It was in there with me..."

I don't need to ask what you were feeling in that instant, the Kranich thought, frowning. Made another note. "I'm sorry. What was the daemon like?"

The Eule tensed bodily. Sucked a trembling breath. "Lithe. A-androgynous. Lilac, purple. Pink hair. B-black b-bodice."

"...?" Natasha raised an eyebrow. Sensed a shift in the Eule's mood.

Saw color rush to the girl's cheeks.

"...these were...daemons of Slaanesh, yes?" Natasha said, mind checking memorized notes. "The so-called 'Prince of Pleasure'?"

"Y-yes," Maria gasped, hunching over. Beads of saliva arced between her teeth, as color rushed to her face. Eyes locked on the floor. "S-so Circe said, anyway..."

"..." The Kranich set her clipboard down quietly. Scooted up to the edge of her chair. Leaned in. "Maria...I know this might be hard. But I need to ask. Were you-?"

"No," Maria said sharply, shaking her head. Swallowed. "Th-thank the Empress, it...didn't get that far. Another daemon manifested from the screens. A kind...the others won't tell me about." She raised her hands, miming the shape of horns. "Something black, w-with a deer skull for a face."

"It intervened?" Natasha said, sitting back with a relieved exhalation. "This...other daemon?"

"Yes," Maria nodded, a tension in her chest visibly released. She nodded, face and aura showing a gladness to move past a...difficult part. "It stabbed the...Slaanesh thing. Beat it with a c-club or something. Reduced to dust."

"Then what happened?" Natasha said, her notes wholly forgotten.

"It...made to walk away," Maria breathed, hugging herself. "I-it only...acknowledged me at all...when it demanded I r-remove the wards. It couldn't leave." She shivered, rubbing her arms. "I-I had to comply. I was afraid it...would do the same to me."

"Were you afraid of other daemons getting in?" Natasha said, a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek.

"Y-yes," Maria nodded. "B-but I had to. Wh-when I smudged the s-script...the skull-faced daemon rushed out...a-and j-just starting killing all the other daemons." She sucked a ragged breath. "The screams..."

"Hmm?" Natasha said, stroking her chin. "Do you know why?"

"No," Maria shook her head. "I was just...relieved to be able to restore the ward and shut the door behind it. A-and then I..." She touched the horizontal scar across her right cheek. "I made a-another w-ward on the floor, and sat there. I...I cried..." She sniffed, voice growing wet. "Cried until we shifted back into Realspace. Then I s-sat there, until someone came to get me..."

"Shhh," Natasha said, holding up her hands. "It's alright. Everything is fine. You're safe now." She smiled. "You were very brave, you know that?"

"Th-thank you f-for saying that," Maria sobbed, rubbing her eye. "I-I know I wasn't brave. But...thank you anyway..."

"..." The Kranich rose to her hooves. "Do you need a hug?"

The Eule flinched. Eyes widened. She leaned away. "N-no, that's fine! I'm good...!"

Frowning, Natasha sat back down. "Are you sure?"

"Y-yes..." Maria said, head bowed, eyes studying carpet. She shivered, hugging herself protectively. Face flush.

"...is there something wrong?" the Kranich said, inclining her head forward fractionally. Hands groped for her clipboard.

"...I..." Maria clasped her hands again, rocking uneasily in her seat. "...y-yeah. Yeah, there was...s-something else." She sucked a shuddering breath. "...it's...why I wanted to...t-talk to you. Why I...can't sleep."

"...very well," the Kranich nodded, taking up her clipboard. Thumbed the eraser, extruding a millimeter of graphite from the tip.

"L-like I said," Maria breathed, fidgeting in place, "the daemon - the Slaanesh one - didn't get a chance to really DO anything." She shivered. "But it wanted to. It told me as much." The Eule flexed her fingers and wrapped a hand around the front of her neck. "Its claws...tightened around my neck. Stung." With another hand, she traced the scar again. "Licked my face, m-my oxident. I-I could smell it. Breathe its breath..."

"...?" The Kranich's eyes widened fractionally, noting the intense flush of the Eule's face, and the way the girl - the woman, Natasha reminded herself - squeezed her thighs together.

The Eule, largely untrained, allowed a distinctly intense feeling waft off of her. Her 'aura' flared.

"It wanted to h-hurt me," Maria breathed, dry-swallowing. Raised her knees to self-consciously obscure her nethers. "And...I-I know it's fucked up, but..." Her voice croaked, face beet red. "...I...k-kind of...wanted it to..."

"..." Natasha narrowed her eyes. "...I...I see..."

Maria buried her face in her hands, mortified. "I'm so ashamed!" she cried, pressing her knees to her chest. Heart raced, as she flopped sideways onto the couch cushions, curled in a ball. She gasped, whining. "The most traumatizing moment of my life, and...and I...I wanted to..."

"Easy, easy," Natasha said, waving her patient down. Put on a kind smile. "It's quite alright. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

Really, I'm surprised more of that didn't happen, the Kranich thought, furrowing her brow. An idea-form created from the collective lust and desire of a galaxy?

"Haaah...!" Maria cried, rocking back and forth on the couch. "My head is fucked! I-I can't..." She sniffed, rubbing her eyes. "Half the time when I sleep, I end up having wet dreams! Horrible ones, where that...that thing is tearing me apart!" She gritted her teeth, pounding her fist against the cushion. "And then I wake up, and I'm horny, and...and I can't even get off!"

Ah...now there's a problem, the Kranich thought, scratching her cheek. "...that...sounds frustrating. This...inability to achieve..." She frowned, shutting her eyes. "...it's been going on since the attack?"

"Mmhmm..." the Eule whined, burying her face in the cushion. "An itch...an itch I can't scratch! Nothing works!"

"...I must admit my ignorance," Natasha said, looking away. Color ran to her face. "Replikas...are capable of sexual pleasure?"

"...mmhmm," Maria hummed, looking up. She rubbed her eyes, face flush with embarrassment and frustrated desire. "There are...ways. Including, uh...add-ons..." She rolled over, hiding her face. "M-Myrtle and others in her circle know a lot more about that..."

Note to self, Natasha thought, looking sharply away and furrowing her brow, pursue this line of inquiry on my own time.

The Kranich crossed her legs resolutely, and coughed. "...th-the problem is multifaceted, yes," she said abruptly, "but I think I understand."

"..." Maria lay on her back, arms tucking knees to her chest. She frowned, looking sidelong at the therapist. "Y-you do?"

"I can't claim to know fully what you're feeling, but I can imagine," Natasha said, sitting up straight. Hands gripped pencil and clipboard. "An incursion by malign entities from the Warp, invading your own home, is, to put it mildly, a stressful situation. Being attacked personally by one of them, all the more so." She inhaled. Exhaled. "Assaulted physically, with threats of bodily harm or worse, heightened your emotional state. This then complicated by a creature almost designed to tempt and seduce. Intense emotional state, combined with extreme and unwanted touch and smell..." She sighed, smiling. "It's no wonder you've had your...'wires crossed', as it were."

"...hic...y-you mean it?" the Eule sobbed, rubbing her face. "It's n-not weird?"

"It's...understandable," Natasha said, closing her eyes and nodding. "Certainly, nothing you had control of, much less be blamed for." She smiled warmly. "You've had to endure a deep well of trauma and uncertainty. I admire your resilience for lasting this long, and your courage for admitting it. You did the right thing, seeking help when you did."

"...snff...hic..." Maria sat up, hugging herself. "...th-thank you...doctor..."

"I'm not a...I mean yes, you're welcome," Natasha said, smiling and cocking her head to one side. "Now...what do you want to do now?"

"...I wanna get off," Maria admitted, bluntly. Scowled. "I'm so sick of this. Of being...unable to...you know."

"Understandable," Natasha nodded. Took up her pencil and scratched a note. "This...fixation on pain, that's inhibiting your ability to...well. Have you...attempted to subject yourself to pain while...'acting alone'?"

"I-I'm afraid to," Maria shuddered, frowning. "Scared I'll hurt myself in an irreparable way." She rubbed the skin of her face. Looked down at her hand. "O-or it can be repaired, but...oooh, what would I say? 'Sorry, I p-pulled my nail out trying to fuck myself. Can I get another?'." She buried her face in her hand. "I'd never be able to live with myself! So...embarrassing!"

"Yes, I see," Natasha nodded, making notes. She sighed, rubbed her temple. "...have you attempted to secure the help of another person? A lover, or potential partner, who would be willing to...?"

"No, I haven't," Maria said, shaking her head. "I was already...between lovers, when the attack happened. And now...I'd be embarrassed, asking someone." She cast furtive glances at the Kranich. "...c-can you, maybe...?"

"..." Natasha cocked her head to the side, quizzically. "...can I perform this service on you? Is that your question?"

"I-if y-you wouldn't mind..." Maria mumbled, smiling awkwardly. Rubbed the back of her head.

"Out of the question," Natasha said, holding up a hand. Her expression neutral, professional. She attempted to betray no hint of judgment on her part. "I may not be a licensed or accredited psychiatrist or psychologist, but even I know sleeping with one of my patients would cross a dire ethical line." She inclined her head forward fractionally. "Even under the auspices of healing."

"Right, right! Of course," Maria said, bowing her head. Rubbed her beet-red face. "I shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine," Natasha said, making notes. "You are in a delicate place. We must endeavor to explore all avenues." She looked up, furrowing her brow apologetically. "I'm afraid, however, this will require more courage from you, Maria. You may need to do something you find...unpleasant, to achieve..." She looked down at the floor, chewing her lower lip. "...resolution."

"Mmm..." Maria whined, hands clapped on her knees. "...this...is all between us, right?"

"Absolutely," Natasha nodded. She paused, mouth open. "...I cannot...fully rule out intervention with the likes of Elster or Circe, IF your particular situation grows to endanger yourself or others."

Maria frowned. Hunched down. "..."

"...but unless that happens, my lips are sealed," Natasha said, smiling. "Doctor-patient confidentiality. Of that, you have my word."

Maria clasped her hands thoughtfully. Then looked up, smiling.

"Th-thank you, Doc-...Natasha."

Chapter 117: Try Another Day

"Productive first day on the job?"

Hooves clacked down a wide corridor. Water burbled in hydroponics stations hung on eggshell white walls. Air suffused with the scent of flowers and incense. A crowd of gestalt children rushed around a trio of replikas in oxide-red robes, cackling and cheering.

"...it certainly was eventful, I'll concede," Natasha breathed, rubbing her forehead. "I'm not even a fraction of the way through meeting patients for the first time. Let alone solving their problems."

"I hope the schedule I've composed at least gives your work a sense of order," Adler said, hands clasped behind his back as he walked. "But I understand the feeling. Being the administrator for the Nomarch proved taxing enough. Now, with a new, larger vessel, and a growing collection of both replika and gestalt workers..."

The two replikas sighed.

"...can we afford more of you?" Natasha said, crossing her arms. They ducked around a corner, leaving the main thoroughfare behind. "Because I'm thinking we may need more of me. I barely have time to catch up on the situation with this war..."

"ADLR models don't get along," Adler said, nodding to a pair of Eules pushing a cart of dirty laundry. "Though now that we're refurbishing a ship - scratch that, TWO ships - perhaps now is the time to bring a few more of my 'brothers' online. So long as we converse remotely, it shouldn't prove too onerous. I hope."

"I've been meaning to ask," Natasha said, picking through a messenger bag full of notes. "The replikas here seem to have some unspoken method of communication. And not just bioresonance. I would have sensed it if it was. Is there some kind of integral radio system?"

"The Noosphere," Adler said, glancing sidelong at his new coworker. "A wireless method of data transfer and systems interface. The Mechanicum discovered it, I'm told. The Aras, of course, adopted it first. Now, it's becoming difficult to find replikas of any appreciable age who aren't equipped with a Noosphere Module."

"I knew it," the Kranich scowled, furrowing her brow. Too tired to keep her thoughts to herself. Rubbed the spot between her eyes. "I assume I wasn't told for security reasons?"

"Precisely," Adler nodded. "And apologies. You understand our reservations, yes?" He stepped to the side, allowing a pair of gestalt children to roar by on an improvised wheeled sled. Looking back with an annoyed sneered, he said, "I'll schedule an appointment to have one installed, if you wish."

"Thank you, Adler," Natasha breathed, clapping hands together in gratitude. She looked sidelong at him. "...have you ever considered taking a proper name?"

"Until now, there wasn't a need," Adler said, shrugging. He stroked his chin. "I suppose I've run out of excuses, haven't I?"

"I look forward to hearing what you choose," the Kranich said, smiling devilishly.

Clack-clack. Clack-clack. Clack-clack. Clack-clack. Clack-clack.

The two stopped before a door.

"Your room, my lady," Adler said, gesturing with his hand. "I'm told Circe double-checked the wards herself. To prevent 'further unwanted intrusion'. Her words."

"Good," Natasha nodded. She looked over her shoulder, down the way they came. "I'm certain our commander's 'familiar' can't reach this far. At least, I hope not. Nonetheless, some peace and quiet will be appreciated."

"Don't mind the unadorned adjoining room," Adler said, nodding. "We're waiting for some worker schedules to open up, before we install a private meditation chamber. This will be necessary, if the Duarch ventures out into parts of the galaxy dominated by the Ruinstorm."

"More ominous names, more mysteries," Natasha sighed, hunching forward. Tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. "I have no energy for such things today, thank you very much. We shall speak more tomorrow, comrade."

"Sleep well, comrade," Adler said, bowing his head. He turned on his hoof and made to walk away. Then, he stopped, and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, and before I forget..."

"Hmm?" Natasha said, hand halfway to the control panel. Looked at the replika man quizzically. "What is it?"

Adler smirked. "Circe hopes you enjoy your housewarming gift."

"...?"

The Kranich watched the administrator walk away, before tapping the wall panel. Gift?

Shing.

A modest apartment, fit for a middling officer of the Imperium's Exertus Navy. Her new commander offered Natasha her pick of accommodations. The Kranich, valuing relative privacy over opulence, elected for something more...cozy.

That it positioned her within only a short stroll from her 'office', the nearest cafeteria, and a shuttle dock, was only icing on the cake.

Cot against one wall, wide enough for the officer and, if needed, their spouse/lover/mistress. A tight fit, but manageable. Cabinets and drawers, for clothing and personal items. Beneath the cot, a floor safe, for hiding valuables. (Not secrets. Too obvious.)

A pair of doors in the back. One to an adjoining lavatory and shower. The other originally for whatever purpose the officer required (children's bedroom, auxiliary storage, powder room, etc.). Between them, a wide, flat section of wall, screaming for a spy's customary web of photographs connected by string.

And, naturally, a stainless steel desk. Sturdy, ample storage, and bolted to the floor (as most pieces of furniture were). Eggshell white paint, like much in the Duarch.

The desk drew the Kranich's eyes immediately. Its surface occupied by more than just a desk lamp and boxy beige computer.

"...hmm..." Natasha hummed, finger tracing the edge of the desk, until she touched the ornate, carved wooden box. Its surface stained a rich red-brown.

A part of her screamed to examine the item with utmost care, in case of booby traps. She suppressed this impulse.

If they wanted me dead, I would be dead ten times over by now, the Kranich thought. Boldly, she flipped the case open.

Gasped.

"..."

Trembling hand reached down. Took up handwritten note, unfolding.

"To Natasha,
Congratulations on your first day of work, and on deciding on your name. You won't need this to stop Persona Degradation, but I thought you'd like it anyway. Hippolyta and I picked this up back on Caliban. I hope you like it.
Love,
Circe."

A lump formed in the Kranich's throat. "...oh..."

She traced the instrument's exquisite body. With a flick, she strummed a string. Closed her eyes, letting the note vibrate with her bioresonant senses. Shivered.

Exhaled. Opened her eyes, half-lidded. "...aren't you a beauty?" she breathed. Leaned over, plucking body and bow from their padded recesses.

Inhaled. Drew scent in. Wood not yet old enough to lose its odor. Fingers tuned nobs and plucked fresh strings. A dedicated, well-loved instrument, newly prepped for use once again.

"..." The Kranich smiled, closing her eyes. Set the body under her chin, and bow to strings.

Mother, Natasha thought, projecting her mind out. I love your gift.

To her pleasant surprise, the message caught. Answered.

It's your birthright, Circe said, warmly. Hip and I are glad you like it.

The Kranich didn't know what piece she would play, until muscle memory took over. Felt it in her metal bones, through skin that quivered with phantom goosebumps.

Mind and violin resonated together, as music filled the room.

 

"You want me to do what?"

Sounds filtered through bulkhead walls. Shift change. Crates piled high on the storeroom floor, inventory clipboard sat abandoned on a nearby table. Its owner knocked off for lunch.

The Eule knelt on hands and knees, head bowed.

"...please..." Maria said, softly. "I know it's a lot to ask. If I'm not attractive enough, or you have a girlfriend..."

Tall legs shuffled uneasily. The Storch crossed her arms, leaning against a stack of crates.

"No, I get it," Artemis frowned, cocking an eyebrow. "You wanna fuck. I'm not opposed to that." She narrowed her eyes. "You want me to hurt you?"

"Y-yes," Maria breathed, nodding. Unable to raise her face. Unable to look the tall woman in the eyes. "I want it. I...I need it."

"Why?" the Storch said, looking around, confused. "The fuck? What brought this on?"

"I can't...g-get off," Maria sobbed, rubbed her face. "Haven't been able to, since...since..." Her hand traveled down. Caressed her neck. "Since that d-daemon...was going to..."

"...tch," Artemis grimaced, looking away with disgust. "You need therapy."

"I'm getting therapy!" Maria growled, looking up angrily. "Nat and I agreed! I..." The Eule faltered, face falling. "...I need to get past this...this block. Or I'll never be able to..."

"..." Artemis glanced down at the Eule. Frowned, brows furrowing in pity. "...what do you need?"

"Just...one time, at least," Maria said, fingers curling against the cold metal floor. Mouth contorted in discomfort. "Either to get this...need out of my system...or to know if having to hurt to c-c-c...ngh...is just..." She sat down on her legs, all energy seeping from her body. "...my new normal."

"..."

The Storch stared at the Eule. Let the awkward moment hang in the air. Looked away.

Artemis scratched the back of her head. "...why...why me?"

"No offense," Maria croaked, staring at the floor. "But...you're a Storch. Your neural pattern have...sadistic tendencies." She glanced furtively up, shivering. "And this...maybe-masochist needs one..."

"..." Artemis sighed. "Pathetic."

"..." Maria frowned, color rushing to her face. Hands clenched into fists.

She jumped, as the Storch squatted down in front of her. The Eule looked up, the other woman still casually heads taller than her.

Blushed heavily, as the Storch cupped her face and held it up for inspection.

The woman narrowed her eyes.

"...fine," Artemis sighed, turning the woman's face side to side. "I can work with this." She flashed a small smile. "You're lucky I don't have a girlfriend right now."

"...haah..." Maria breathed, eyes lighting up. "R-really? Y-you mean it?"

"Sure," Artemis shrugged. Removed her hand, and sat back on the floor. Rested arm on her knee. "You know how you want it?"

The Eule, body shivering with relief and desire, smiled giddily.

"I-I have some ideas..."

 

"Patience, E. I'm almost done."

Clippers snipped. Electronic whine. Mechadendrites writhed, picked up or put down tools.

Beneath the shadow of a half-rebuilt Castellan robot, two figures sat. One, hunched over, in oxide-red robes. The other, ramrod straight, in a set of mud-brown, rubberized overalls.

Heart racing, the servitor stared neutrally forward. Light blinked in her augmetic eye. Her gestalt one glassy, dead. Only the occasional flicker of movement, and subtle dilation, betrayed the intelligence beneath.

An intelligence desperate to move her eye. Just one eye, the only natural one left to her. To look at the tech priest hunched to her left.

"Almost..." Daisy breathed, switching to a thin screwdriver. Tiny screw magnetized to the end, which the Ara rotated back in. She exhaled, setting her tools down. She stood up, patting the servitor's shoulders. "Backup controls bypassed. The only thing holding you now..." She reached inside the panel on the side of the woman's bald head. "...is this modular control chip."

The Ara saw the woman's aura flare. Jubilant. Guardedly hopeful. Impatient. Aching for release.

Daisy frowned. Looked down at the loose-fitting work suit that draped the woman.

Her teacher explained that many Forge Worlds don't bother creating different clothing sizes for their lobotomized workers. (Ogryn servitors excepted, of course). Too much extraneous resources or logistics problems. Instead, production facilities place new servitors (or servitors-to-be) in oversized suits, that are then electrostatically vacuum-shrunk to conform exactly to the victim's frame.

The woman Isis identified only as "E" wasn't among the servitors in the section of crew deprived of a functioning feeder machine. She received all the nutrient paste she needed to survive.

That her suit remained so loose on her frame then meant, once upon a time, she possessed an ample figure, and generous 'assets'.

Color rushing to her face, the Ara shook her head. Dispelled inappropriate thoughts.

"...a-as I explained before, E," Daisy said, rubbing the back of her neck, "I don't know what you'll experience when it's removed. I can't promise it won't hurt, or that you'll even survive."

After all, servitors were never meant to stop being servitors.

If the possibility of discomfort or death created any trepidation in the woman, her aura didn't show it. Only the almost audible command: Pull. It. Out.

"...so long as we're clear," Daisy nodded. She tucked a thumb of her right hand in the recess of the head panel. Leverage. Fingers curled around the back of the woman's head, to prevent her falling over and cracking her skull. Left hand clasped firmly the thin, protruding handle of the control chip. "Count of three. Eins...I mean, one...two...three!"

With a tiny spark, the modular control chip slipped from its socket with an audible 'POP'.

"AGH!"

Reeling from the yanking force, E doubled over, clutching her head.

She started screaming.

"AAAAAAAH! AAAGH! NNNAAAGH!"

"A-are you alright!?" Daisy gasped, nervously looking down at the chip in her hand, then the side table. She tossed it down, wincing as it clanked louder than she meant, then hunched over the woman. "E! Are you okay!"

"Hhh...haaah...hah..." Gasping, the woman slowly sat back up. Stared down at her left hand, pale and trembling violently. And at the metal clamp that replaced her right. Panted, voice weak and rasping. "...ngh...yym...I-I-I..."

"You're not in any pain, are you?" Daisy said, quickly. Bead of sweat formed on her brow. She patted the gestalt's back, frowning as a coughing fit took the woman. "Easy, easy. Take it slow..."

"Haah...'m...fwee..." E slurred, mouth and tongue struggling to remember talking. She raised her head, face muscles aching as she smiled for the first time in...she knew not how long. "F-free!"

"...!" Daisy flinched, as the woman turned and threw her arms around her. Felt pressure around her shoulders, the woman's augmented strength pressing against her metal and plastic chassis. "Gck! Too m-much! L-less please!"

"S-ss-ss-sorry..." E hissed, right eyebrow rising apologetically. She pulled back, face upturned. Eye growing moist. Mouth contorting in pain, she buried her face in the Ara's chest. "...hah...hah...th-thank you! All-Saints bless you! THANK YOU!"

"N-no...problem..." Daisy grunted, hugging the woman gently. "You...didn't know your own strength." She forced a smile, patting woman as sobs wracked her back. "Do you...remember you full name? 'E' was all Isis could get."

A shuddering gasp. A wet sob. "I-I can't..." E whined, shaking her head. Her metal clamp grasped firmly around the hem of the Ara's robe, as her organic hand pressed against the replika's sternum. "I tried! I tried holding on to it, for so long! But I...by all the Saints, I...lost it...I can't remember..." A pained breath. "Mah name...mah parents f-faces...mah world...like it was so long ago...I can't...!"

"Shh..." Daisy cooed, mimicking the way her mother cradled her sisters. "It's okay..."

As the former servitor hugged her - gently, this time - Daisy rested her cheek on the woman's naked head. Hand patted her back. Felt the metal of her augmented spine through the rubbery brown suit. The Ara rocked the woman back and forth, letting her weep openly. Waves of emotion washing over her.

"...'E' will work just fine...it'll all be better now..."

Staring at the floor, Daisy silently cursed the Mechanicum.

---

"Hurry! We'll miss it!"

Speakers hummed. Hooves clacked on rough chiseled stone. Bodies huddled together. Din of furtive conversation filled the air.

"Alright, alright!" laughed the old gestalt, allowing the Ara to lead her by the hand. Anja Itou smiled, carefully stepping around figures seated on the ground. Looked down at the conversation pit, filled to the brim. "Slow down, dear."

"It'll start soon!" Erica the Ara lead them to the far side of the pit, where rows of folding chairs were set up. Behind them, a crowd of replikas stood or leaned.

"The start will just be useless preamble," Beatrice said, inclining her head up. The Storch leaned against the wall behind the crowd, easily seeing over their heads. She crossed her arms. "It's always that way, right?"

"Anja, over here," Margaret said, sat on a chair in the front row. She patted a seat by her side, tugging on the neck of her wool sweater. "Saved you one."

"Thank you, Maggie," Anja said, clapping her hands together.

She allowed Erica to deposit her gently in the seat, before the Ara sat cross-legged on the floor at her feet.

The gestalt looked around, eyeing the crowd milling about at the sides of the large central room. "...did we get new arrivals?" Anja said, touching her cheek. "I didn't realize there were so many."

"I found a few more Aras and Eules squatting in a condemned apartment block," Margaret said, before flinching. She looked down, as a repli-kat with spotted gray fur jumped up on her lap. "Oof! Hello there..."

"We're going to need another mass grave to loot," Poppy sighed, sitting up in her seat beside the LSTR unit. Her oxide-red robes stained with blessed oils. She forced a smile, reaching over to give the feline scritches. "I think we tapped that last one out."

"At least the Protektors stopped guarding them," Begonia said, rubbing her cheek. She slumped in her seat beside Poppy, squinting in the overhead lights. "You think they've given us up for dead now? Or is it the war diverting resources?"

"Pansy," Margaret said, glancing over her left shoulder. "You think you can sneak into that one Mechanicum depot again? We need more eyes."

"I don't know," Pansy said, rubbing fingers through their purple hair. Touched their face. "I hate wearing that fake tech priest mask."

"At least with the new connector cable, you should be able to see properly through the camera eyes," Tansy said, squeezing her lover's hand. She blew at the curtain of straw-colored hair covering her left eye. "Anyway, it's better than getting caught as an 'Abominable Intelligence', right?" She muttered the words with a measure of mocking disdain.

"...I guess?" Pansy said, shrugging. The two Aras leaned in, rubbing foreheads together.

"Shut up! It's starting!"

All noise in the room ceased. Overhead lights dimmed. Figures on the periphery froze.

The boxy television set winked from static to signal. A remote control unmuted the device, and a row of green bars grew longer as thumb cranked volume. Speakers set around the room rumbled to life.

"[...bring you live to Rotfront Sektor 1]," said the announcer, shuffling papers audibly. "[Achtung, citizens. We bring you...]"

 

"...Captain Zod!"

A flurry of claps. Some sincere, some forced. Faces and cameras pointed at the stage.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Cameras clicked, drowning the stage in flashes. Baseline humans, in the crowd and on the stage, stared up in awe as the larger-than-life figure approached the podium.

Astartes Legionaries clad in sea-green armor arrayed themselves in a line, flanking the podium. Bolters hefted, red eye lenses glowing.

Their leader took to the podium, red topknot whipping in a cross-breeze that swept through the cavernous proto-hive chamber. Fierce eyes roved around, drinking in the crowd.

He raised his hand, silencing crowd and cameras in an instant. The Captain permitted himself a small twitch of his mouth. Despite it all, he couldn't deny the attention of the worms enticed him.

"...people of Eusan," said Yngarl Zod, in thickly accented Eusan, "I will not waste my, or your, time with overwrought speeches or sly flourishes. So I will be brief." He breathed, letting his transhuman aura and deep voice settle into the crowd. "In return for your freedom from the False Emperor, Horus Lupercal has bid you labor. Labor to supply the armies that will spread this same freedom to countless other enslaved worlds in this galaxy."

Members of the crowd shuffled uneasily.

"Know that I, and my Primarch, do not fault your work ethic," Zod continued, gauntleted hand caressing the stem of the microphone carefully. Resisted the urge to pace. "The population of your six worlds have scarcely recovered from the False Emperor's bloody conquest and ruthless sieges." He gave a gentle smile. "Be at ease, knowing the shortfalls in production were not for lack of effort on your part."

Men and women breathed a sigh of relief, even as a tension still hung in the air.

"Rather, I know that it was once again the False Emperor's senseless policies that brought this about," Zod said, holding up a hand, palm-up. He closed it into a fist. "I speak, of course, of the slaughter of the...other citizens of Eusan. The Replikas."

A dam broke. Whispers wound through the crowd. Hands clapped over mouths. Camera flashes.

The Astartes Captain permitted the shock, for a moment, before holding up his hand for silence again.

"Know, good people of Eusan, that Horus Lupercal shares none of the mad obsessions that provoked the False Emperor and the False Mechanicum to enact that bloodbath." He waved his hand casually. "Horus does not demand you fit his model of ideal, Terran culture. He does not deprive men of their gods, or their culture, or their vices. Certainly not of their thinking machines. Or, in this case, the replika humans the False Mechanicum mistook as such."

Hands clasped the sides of the podium. He felt painted wood splinter slightly.

"Warmaster Horus requires nothing of you," Zod said, giving a stern expression. "Save, only, that you kneel."

Members of the crowd, shocked to attention, began the process of kneeling.

"Not now!" Zod barked, scowling. "That was...nevermind." He breathed, inclining his head back. Softened his voice. "For this reason, Horus Lupercal has elected to undo this last and greatest mistake of the False Emperor."

He raised a clenched fist.

"Henceforth, the ban is lifted. Eusan will have replikas again! For Horus!"

 

"No fucking way!"

The meeting room exploded into conversation. Cries of surprise and shock and...joy.

"A-are we going to be safe?"

"They're going to make more replikas, right?"

"Obviously, based on all that talk about production quotas..."

"Oh my..." Anja said, touching her cheek. "Just like that?"

"I suppose so," Margaret said, shrugging. Looked away. "Kind of wish they made that clear when they took charge..."

"Oi!" Beatrice called, standing up tall, "he's still talking! Focus!"

The room quieted down. Eyes turned back to the TV screen.

"[...-duction efforts will begin immediately]," Zod said, holding a hand up to silence the crowd on his own end. "[To this end...I have recruited a Direktor to head replika production. I leave this invaluable work in her capable hands.]" He turned, and spread a hand to the side. "[Direktor of Replika Biology, Doctor Rebecca Liang.]"

More whispers. Claps from the TV set. The Marine's bulk shifted offscreen.

A new figure walked on.

"...oh!" Anja gasped, eyes widening. She tugged on the LSTR's arm. "Maggie! Do you recognize that woman?"

"Hmm?" Margaret said, glancing sideways, then at the screen. "I...maybe? Should I?"

"I think Lilith served with that woman," the gestalt said, pointing at the screen. "She appeared on one of her photos."

"..." Margaret's eyes widened. She looked at the screen.

Studied the contours of the bookish woman, as she settled in behind the podium. Studied her severe expression. The loops of her hair.

Margaret breathed, "...one of Lilith's...comrades?"

"[Thank you, people of Rotfront...]"

 

"...And thank you, Captain Zod."

Finger pushed a pair of glasses up.

Calm down, Rebecca thought, taking a deep breath. You defended your dissertation AND survived the trenches. Hell, you survived Zod. This is nothing.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the Biologist said, looking out on the crowd neutrally. Green and black jumpsuit peeked out from beneath the folds of a stark white lab coat. "My name is Rebecca Liang. I served in the Eusan Nation Army during the Vineta campaign, then pursued my graduate studies at Heimat Polytechnische Universitat at the Abteilung für Biologie." She paused, adjusting her glasses again. "That is...until the Imperium came."

The crowd filled with whispers and low conversation.

"At the time, my experience working with replikas was sparse. Repair and first aid on my replika comrades, that sort of thing," Rebecca said, glancing down as she flipped a stack of index cards. "Nonetheless, under the...False Emperor's regime, no one with knowledge of how to build or maintain replikas...could be allowed to live." She raised a hand, waving it for emphasis. "I survived the attempts on my life. Many others - colleagues, comrades, and classmates - did not." She narrowed her eyes. "So let it be known that I harbor nothing less than contempt for Terra and its bloody-minded master. I've spent the better part of my life since then picking up the pieces of that Genocide."

She flipped another index card. Looked severely out at the crowd. "Make no mistake. What the Imperium - the Iron Hands, House Leclair, the 'Compliance' Fleet, the False Mechanicum - did to us...was nothing less than Genocide. Cultural and, importantly, very literal."

Rebecca reached a hand out to the crowd. "You - yes, you, in the audience and at home - probably knew a replika, if you're old enough to remember the time before the 'Great Crusade' came to our shores. Men and women, just like you. Wrapped in shells of metal and plastic, but humans just the same. Possessed of thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams. People you knew and cared about, if you had time to know them. Cruel or kind. You worked alongside them. They picked up your trash, served you drinks, taught your children. Or they were your teachers."

She retracted her hand. Furrowed her brow sadly. "They're dead now. Almost all of them are dead and gone. Not decommissioned. Killed. By the Nation, singly and as convenient, and in their millions by the Imperium." She frowned. "We...we experienced a massacre. A massacre of our friends, neighbors, coworkers. For some, lovers. For others...the last living vestiges of sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, parents...comrades...who were erased, so they could serve the Nation eternally. But that eternity was taken from them."

Rebecca looked the crowd hard in the eyes. "The Imperium of Man killed them. Every one of them they could get their hands on. Then used our hunger and fear to make us give them up. The Imperium made us complicit in their butchery." She clenched a fist. "And then...we had to pretend like it never happened. Pretend...that we aren't a wounded, bereft people."

The crowd, dead silent.

Here and there, people began to quietly sob.

"...well...no more," Rebecca said. She adjusted her glasses. "Replikas defined Eusan civilization. Replikas made us unique among the countless civilizations in the galaxy that crawled up from the Dark Times. Nowhere can you find quite their like." She smiled. "So we're bringing them back."

Claps. Camera flashes. Someone in the crowd cried openly.

Rebecca tapped the podium. "The Pogrom is over, formally and completely. Factories once emptied will be filled, and set to work. Parts, Fleschewerke, implantation. We're putting out an open call for any persons harboring bioresonant potential. Your talents can be well compensated. Anyone experienced in replika maintenance, biology, or production, who somehow escaped arrest all this time..."

She smiled. "...my comrades, it's time to come in from the cold. I can offer lucrative careers in my department. Those citizens who worked on replika assembly lines, you're invited back too. I'm authorized to offer a 50% increase in wages, for those with documented experience in these fields."

Furious conversation.

"The new regime is willing to do whatever is necessary to get Eusan back on its feet," Rebecca said. Smiled. "Or hooves, where applicable. Sorry, cheap joke." She let a sensible chuckle run through the crowd, before holding up a hand. "Nothing can bring back what was lost. The people lost. But if our wound is to scar, it must first heal. And to do that, we need our replikas back. And we will. We will produce them in numbers not seen since before the Invasion."

Claps. Cheers. Camera flashes.

A flipped index card. The Biologist looked the central camera in the lens.

"And as for those replikas who survived all this time," Rebecca said, softly. "You are free to do as you wish. No one will hunt you, or persecute you. Like your gestalt neighbors, Horus Lupercal brings you freedom." She let the smile fade. "Our good Captain Zod simply asks that you, quote, 'Stay out of the way'. And I think that's perfectly fine."

She no longer spoke to just anyone now. Staring into the camera, she spoke to her students.

"Be safe, be quiet. Don't make waves. And stay put. We'll all get through this. I promise."

Chapter 118: Fresh Eyes, Fresh Faces

"ALERT! ALERT! ALERT! AL-"

Heavy breathing. Dilated eyes. Fingers clenched around control sticks. Mind Impulse Unit sluggishly connected with the Throne Mechanicum, and to the choir of ancestors.

Screams and roars, muffled by meter-thick adamantine plate.

"C-come on!" sputtered the pilot, reaching a hand forward. Shaky fingers jammed buttons and flipped switches. "Come on, come on, come on!"

Sir Brandon, Baron of the West Marches, Scion of Fadehome, Scourge of the 4th Belt Mageocracy...felt his heart race. Heard it thunder in his ears. It almost overshadowed the pandemonium outside. Almost.

It shouldn't be possible.

Without doubt, the Knight of House St. Blaise heard the rumors. Stories of vessels vanished between jumps across the interminable void between stars. Of disasters, of drive failures. Even the darker mutterings met his ears, though few gave them serious consideration. Aloud, anyway.

Whispers of that which crept in when Geller Fields collapsed. Sundering elemental forces and foreign physics of the Immaterium. Grotesque xenos horrors, evolved to live there. Dimensional maelstroms that howled like hell. Or worse...

Irrational. Unscientific. Such speculation stank of superstition. Violated the Emperor's Truth. Their commanders and lords distributed reprimands, of course, to the serfs and Sacristans who voiced these frivolities too loudly. Theirs was a noble house, wedded by treaty with the Imperium of Man. To entertain such nonsense was...unbecoming.

Panting heavily, the pilot input override codes. Bypasses used by Sacristans to move and effect repairs on the venerable suit, in absence of their pilot. Or, as now, if the pilot could not rely on immersive connection in battle.

While the Throne Mechanicum slowly established a connection with the cybernetic implants in his brain, through the port at the base of his skull, Sir Brandon had to bring Hammer of Witches to bear.

"...come on..." he breathed, swallowing. Eyes locked on the screen as it thrummed to life. Glared a hole at the tactical overlay where a baroque progress bar grew, and the matte black surface scrolled through technical runes. "C-come on..."

It shouldn't be possible. It wasn't. And yet...

He squinted, as the screen lit up. Hands clutched controls fast.

"...!" Sir Brandon's heart skipped a beat.

Fire, resplendent in unnatural colors, poured in great gouts across the hanger. Menials and Sacristans fled or perished, while House Soldiery enacted fighting retreats. Lasguns poured impotently into the oncoming horde.

"Back! BACK!" roared Uther, through the speaker of his Armiger Warglaive. Brandon's second cousin and squire. His Reaper Chainsword screeched, batting away the blunt weapon of the black and red mottled Brute before him. "Back, I say!"

Even as the Armiger pilot poured melta fire at the faltering monster, the creature's two compatriots and their horde of lessers crashed like a wave into the Drover-lifters on either side. Their cargo-hauler arms ponderous against the avalanche of immaterial flesh. The dock workers within screamed, their seats exposed. A measure meant to make peasant revolt impossible, now souring any attempt at defense for their masters.

"NAGH!" barked Uther, as more abominations pressed the attack. He swung his chainsword wildly, cleaving a half-dozen effortlessly with each strike. Yet beneath the flanking bodies, the young pilot had no chance. Some of the fallen even seemed to multiply as they expired, adding to the crush.

His frame's stomping feet lost purchase of the hanger floor, sending him bowling over. Buried beneath an avalanche of immaterial flesh. "Agh! Ngh...Bran! Avenge me! AVENGE M-!"

A brute, chest scorched by melta heat, flashed a fang-filled grin. Raised a greatsword high.

"Uther!" Sir Brandon cried, bringing manual controls online. In the precious seconds needed to link with the Throne Mechanicum, he would not wait. Targeting runes appeared. If he could only bring the Heavy Stubbers to bear, he could save Uther. He could...

Just as he felt the Throne Mechanicum about to connect, the choir of ancestors brushing the edges of his consciousness...

Virrrmmm...

Blackness. The Knight pilot found himself plunged into darkness.

"Ah! Brandon cried, struggling with dead controls. "No! Uther! UTHER!"

Despite his struggle to force the machine into motion, by brute strength or will, Hammer of Witches stirred not.

"...no...n-no!" breathed the pilot, looking around. "Not now! Not-"

He paused. Sweat rolled down his brow.

Where mere seconds before, he could barely hear himself think over the tumult of battle outside, now...now the cockpit was utterly silent. Save the beating of his own heart.

"...what is...?" he breathed, eyes searching the darkness around him. The all-consuming black. Color drained from his face. A chill ran up his spine.

He thought he heard...whispers.

"...Uther?" said the Scourge of the 4th Belt Mageocracy. A man who faced death on a dozen worlds, on a hundred campaigns, and did not flinch. "...wh-who's there...?"

Behind his back, a swarm of long, dark limbs hovered around him. Appeared from impossible angles, for his back was against the chair, against the Throne Mechanicum itself.

"AAAAGH!" Brandon screamed, as dozens of grasping hands with long, thin fingers grasped and seized him. Gripped limbs, torso, and helmet with force enough to break bone.

There was no time to struggle. He felt himself ripped from his safety harness, and pulled backward. Felt the spray of coolant on his face as the feed tube snapped from his carapace armor.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!!!"

The abyss swallowed his screams.

---

"Yes. Very good, EULR-N0605."

Forceps clamped on an artery, left to stick up from the clean incision. Small plate of white bone carefully laid in a shiny steel bowl. Cool, white light shined down from on high. Warm, wrinkly, pink flesh greeted sterilized air, illuminated as nature never intended.

Heidi exhaled behind her surgical mask. By mental impulse, a mechadendrite dabbed a cloth against her forehead. Carefully tucked an errant, straw-colored hair back under her hairnet. She looked up, nodding. "..."

Two Aras, expressionless faces hidden behind masks, nodded in approval to the Eule.

A replika servo-skull floated above them, augmetic eyes narrowing apertures as it zoomed in on the tiny patch of exposed brain matter.

High above, the audience of replikas (and the occasional gestalt medic) stared down at the operating theater. Eyes darted between the anesthetized gestalt on the slab, and the screens showing the procedure in progress.

"The difficult stage is completed successfully," Diodana said, holding up a metal index finger. Four green photo-receptors rose to regard the audience. "With patient 'Nessie's' brain exposed, MIU implantation can proceed in identical fashion to standard replika creation."

One of her mechandendrites rose, a tiny green laser pointing to the gestalt's brain. It hovered over the central wrinkle. "Per the patient's wishes, we will forgo more extensive implantation." She huffed, deactivating the laser pointer. "More's the pity..."

Students above - mostly Aras and Eules, with the occasional Star and gestalt - nodded or jotted notes.

At the front row, a pair of blind women patted their diminutive charge affectionately.

"I-is it over?" said Lady Elethia, face buried in the arm of one of her handmaidens. Pale, veiny fingers clutched the hem of the woman's robe.

"Shh," said the elderly woman, patting the Navigator girl's hooded head. "All will be well, my lady."

"How goes the threading process, ARAR-N0606?" Diodana said, turning to one of her elder students.

"Almost...complete..." Rose said, keeping voice low. Eyes hidden behind a set of advanced camera lenses, that peeled back layers of flesh and bone. Her mechandendrites carefully fed a set of thin wires through newly-opened holes in the gestalt's eye-sockets.

Through real-time transparent imaging, and a flexible intravenous camera, the Ara doctor threaded the wires through the gestalt's skull. Followed paths once occupied by optic nerves, then around the brain. The end destination: the section of brain newly exposed.

"Very good," Diodana said, nodding. Turned her head. "Eyelids ready, Daisy?"

"Yes," Daisy said, nodding. She tapped the plastic container, housing shielded lumps of vat-grown skin and eyelash tissue, atop a strata of coolant gel.

"Excellent," Diodana nodded. She looked up at the audience. "A routine procedure, but worth paying attention to. Especially for the newest students. Such practical demonstrations will be rare." She looked across the patient. "Proceed, EULR-N0605."

"Right," Heidi nodded. Eyes down, she took up a set of tweezers and raised a diode the size of a rice grain. Tiny wires trailed from one end, while the other sported a pair of hair-thin metal needles. "Beginning insertion."

The team proceeded with their work.

The tech adept nodded sagely, a giddy shiver running up her partially metallic spine.

And by the grace of the Machine God, she thought, is this woman made just the slightest bit holy. Praise the Omnissiah!

On the steel side table, floating in a sterile solution, a pair of new replika eyes stared up at the high ceiling. Awaited their new owner.

 

"I thought these 'Astartes Legions' WERE the Imperium's military. They aren't?"

Bell chimed. Incense wafted. Fingers counted beads on a string. Lips muttered incantations. Sound bounced off the domed, metal room. Walls etched in runes of warding and sacred geometry, made perfect in the days of Old Prospero.

Three figures sat cross-legged in a geometric circle, a metal bowl placed between them. Eyes shut, minds linked in a circuit.

Circe circled around the trio quietly, watching their progress. She stopped beside the taller replika.

"No, they aren't," she whispered, planting her staff on the meditation room floor. "There are many branches of the Imperium's military forces. Combined with the Mechanicum, and it's all very...bewildering. Diodana knows more about this than I do."

"I see," Natasha nodded, crossing her arms. She glanced warily at the replika skull atop her mother's staff, positioned at eye level. Looked back to the circle of Kolibri on the floor. "What are they, then? These Legions?"

"Transhuman soldiery," Circe said. "The Imperium's elite, known as Space Marines." Tilted her head fractionally. "Did no one tell you yet?"

"We've all been busy," the Kranich said, nodding. Glanced at the elder Kolibri. "Transhuman? How so?"

By way of explanation, Circe extended hands. One physical, one mental. "..."

"..." Huffing, the Spy took both. Closed her eyes, and expanded her perceptions.

The Kolibri projected a vision. Of giants in powered armor, painted in a succession of colors. Ceramite plate, boltguns, portable nuclear backpacks, helmets replete with sensor suites. Comically large pauldrons, emblazoned with Legion symbols and squad markings.

They towered over baseline human troops.

"Oh?" Natasha whispered, eyebrows rising over closed eyes. "You...weren't kidding..."

"Taken as children," Circe whispered, spooling out snapshots received from other replikas, of their numerous encounters with the Legiones Astartes. "Modified surgically, cybernetically, genetically...psychologically." She frowned. "Those opportunities I've had to meet them - to peruse their thoughts - they feel...hobbled. Maimed. Psychologically broken and remade."

"Into soldiers?" Natasha mumbled, furrowing her brows.

"Into weapons," Circe whispered, inclining her head forward fractionally.

She showed visions of marines clad in black and silver. A vision the Kolibri kept in mind, of one marine in particular. One who left a lasting impression on her mother. A lasting impression with a bolter round. "Weapons for toppling empires. Weapons capable of conquering the galaxy."

One of the Kolibri in the circle paused. Arched her neck back.

"...Anton...Weir..." Clotho muttered. "Her killer...Anton Weir, of the Iron Hands..."

Circe and Natasha glanced at the trio, watching the junior Kolibri hunch back over. Return to her chant.

"...the same as the one we met after Phall?" Circe mumbled, furrowing her brow. She glanced to the Kranich, filling in new visions.

"...hmm?" Natasha frowned, studying the scarred and augmented face of the Legionary. The face suspicious, against the backdrop of a cloud-wracked plateau. The face enraged, amid the turmoil of war deep in a forge complex. She noted the facial twitch around the man(?)'s mechanical eye.

That's a story I need to hear more about, the Kranich thought to herself. Forced herself back to the matter at hand. "...children turned into weapons. Advanced conditioning. Does this make them living automatons?"

Circe smiled, shaking her head. "Not all of them."

She projected visions of Astartes clad in red. Adorned with script and motifs of falcons, scarabs, and jackals. Projected their facial expressions. Focus. Anger. Kindness. Pity.

"...'Knowledge is power. Keep it well'..."

Projected a name: Thousand Sons.

"..." Natasha raised her eyebrows again. Saw red-clad Astartes mingling with replikas. Joined in arcane pursuits. Tutelage. "...we have allies among the Legions?"

"Of a sort, yes," Circe nodded, staring at the floor with a soft smile on her face. "We fought together. Collaborated. But that...was a couple months ago."

"Collaborated on what?"

"...has Elster told you about the FLKR unit type?" Circe said, looking up at the Kranich.

"She hasn't," Natasha said, frowning. Searched her memory. "...I don't recognize the designation..."

"After your gestalt's time, and mine," Circe said. She considered sending another vision. Of the chassis, of the shadowed woman, of what Hecate pulled from Adler's memories...

She shook her head, letting go of the Kranich's hand. "Another time."

Natasha opened her eyes. Huffed playfully. "Come now, 'mother'," she said, holding both hands up and shaking her head. "Can't spare a taste?"

"Hmph," Circe chuckled, looking away. Traced the shaft of her staff. "...a bioresonant replika of such power, even her gestalt's Dying Will was sufficient to make implantation difficult. It's why we came to the Thousand Sons for help."

"...what happened?" Natasha said, smile fading. She leaned forward fractionally, hoping to extract a little more. "Did we succeed? Or..."

"No," Circe shook her head. Glanced at the Kranich. "Like I said, another time." Looked toward the trio on the floor. "We were talking about the Thousand Sons."

"...yes," Natasha sighed, filing the matter of the mystery unit away. "They seemed..." She chewed her lip performatively, glancing sidelong at the mystic ritual in progress. "...arcane."

"According to Diodana, each Legion has its own specialty," Circe nodded. Waved a hand dismissively. "A combination of culture, battlefield role, and genetics inherited from their 'Primarch'." She glanced sidelong at the Kranich. "A kind of grand general, genetic template, and...father figure, for their respective Legions."

Not too dissimilar to our dear leader's situation, the Spy mused, privately. She stroked her chin. Though...I suspect this emotional dependence was fostered more intentionally than Elster did with her own brood.

"What this amounts to," Circe continued, passing her staff from one hand to the other, "is that the Primarch, one way or another, informs the nature of their Legion. In the case of the Thousand Sons, their 'father', Magnus the Red, is said to be a bioresonant of potency and skill matched by few humans in the galaxy. Perhaps rivaling even his father, the Emperor of Terra..."

The Terran Emperor's son...the same as Horus? Is this true of all the Primarchs? Natasha thought, eyes widening fractionally. She filed that away as well. "...and so his Legion are powerful bioresonants as well?" She glanced at the diminutive replika. "Is that why we sought their aid? To assist in a troublesome implantation?"

"Yes," Circe nodded. She rubbed her temple. "Along the way...I suppose you could say we bonded with Captain Intef and his company. Over our mutual experience with near extinction. Over arcane matters. Over..." She smiled sheepishly at the Kranich. "...being beholden to daemonic forces, as a result of cruel circumstances."

"They serve a 'Chaos' entity as well?" the Kranich frowned, looking at the Kolibri. "Which?"

"...Tzeentch," Circe whispered, casting a glance at the sealed door to the meditation chamber. "The Changer of Ways, and Architect of Fate. I suspect the being may have had a hand in shaping the conditions that lead them to make a pact."

"...a...troublesome thought," Natasha whispered, swallowing. In her mind, she fought down the existential horror of being faced with an entity capable of manipulating events on a cosmic level. Of...dictating fate to mortals.

One who has an agent living in Elster's private ship, the Spy noted, gravely. "...is there no way for them...or us...to get out from under the Architect's thumb?"

"..." Circe glanced at the Kranich, then looked forward. Lips pursed. "That's...what we hope to find out here, with these three. With Shahrazad's childre-"

Chanting stopped. Bell silenced. Three heads shot up.

"Hmm?" Natasha said, shook from contemplation.

"...what is it, girls?" Circe said aloud, taking a single step forward.

The Prognostic Circle conferred mentally. Then, looked to their grandmother.

"A new ship has been found..." said Clotho, setting down her bell.

"...bearing weapons..." said Lachesis, collecting the bead necklace in her hands.

"...and the shattered dreams of their wearers," said Atropos, sheathing her ritual dagger.

"Wearers?" Natasha said, furrowing her brow. "Don't you mean wielders? Do you wear a weapon?"

"They do," said Lachesis.

"They did," corrected Atropos.

"Lance and armor and steed," said Clotho, furrowing her brow beneath her hood, "all in one."

Circe stroked her own chin, eyes closed pensively. "Lance and armor and steed, all in one..." Her eyes opened. "Oh! I see!"

"What? What do you see?" Natasha said, looking at the elder Kolibri curiously. Her shoulders sagged. "I'm...not following. Is there something I'm not...?"

Ping.

The Kranich stood at attention. Looked inward, to a message sent via the Noosphere.

"...Nat?" Circe said, leaning over on her staff. "Something happen?"

"One of the Aras sent a bulletin," Natasha said, furrowing her brow. "...I don't..."

She read the message two or three times. Still confused.

"[We found Knights.]"

---

Burn.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp-stomp.

The ground vibrated with each step.

A silhouette erupted from a curtain of smoke. Two pinpricks of red light flashed.

Burn them.

Green figures, covered in scrap metal, erupted from the ground on the hill ahead. Crude faces, tusked and scowling. Grotesque mockeries of the human form. Their weapons barked.

Dakka dakka dakka dakka dakka dakka.

Munitions washed over a rippling bubble of force, surrounding the colossus in a riot of colors. Like oil on water.

The machine loomed above the hill, in shadowed green and cream. Black, its trim. With a single step, the Cerastus Acheron raised its left arm. Pilot light flared, as prometheum flooded the barrel.

Burn them all.

Flamestorm Cannon erupted, lighting the canyon of scrap metal with warm light. A torrent of flame flew, wreathing the hill.

Wood cut-outs splintered and paint peeled, blackened. Automated turrets sparked and burst, ammo stores igniting in a blaze that could strip flesh from bone in an instant. Smaller effigies, bearing the obnoxious faces of diminutive grot-forms, disintegrated into splinters and ash in short order.

The weapon swept right, dousing the entire hill. Moved as naturally as its pilot's own arm.

Within the cockpit, simulated carnage reflected, glowing, on said pilot's eyes. He swallowed.

"...just Orks," Felix breathed, drinking in the scene through his strategic overlay. "You've killed Orks before. They're not even real..."

Vermin. Disgusting Xenos throwbacks. Purge them. Hone your killing instinct, for the battles ahead.

BOOM!

"Ah!" Felix gasped. The walker ducked, as a section of metal wall exploded above its head. Scrap rained down, pelting the mech's ion shield or slipping through to tickle its hump-back.

"Oi! Dumbass!" roared the vox, playfully, "Keep moving!"

The Acheron pilot gripped the control sticks, heart leaping. "R-right!"

In a flash, the tall machine bolted. Despite its size, it wove through a landscape of ruined buildings and scrap with alacrity. Leaped off a buckled chunk of rockcrete road, and frantically ducked under a low walkway.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Explosions rocked the landscape. The walkway behind the Acheron collapsed. Another blow clipped the edge of its ion shield, turning it a whirl of orange and purple.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Felix grunted, slowing to pivot toward the direction of the shots.

"Have you forgotten?" said a different voice on the vox. Serious, authoritative. "You're not in an Armiger anymore. Rotate ion shields and keep moving."

"Ah! Right!" cried the Acheron pilot, using the cover of a listing support column to turn. With mental impulse, the bubble around him shifted. Power concentrated toward his right flank. He rushed out, spotting the distant source of munitions in his peripheral cameras.

BOOM!

Battle Cannon round impacted the ion shield dead on, rippling out harmlessly with a flash of magenta and yellow.

Another cluster of targets sprang from the floor of a ruined building. More two-dimensional Orks, along with a handful of drum-shaped metal puppets. Their metal arms waved between two fixed positions, as mounted missile pods and heavy stubbers fired vaguely in the Acheron's direction.

Evade. Then kill. Burn.

Igniting prometheum, the Knight dipped around a wall to get a low angle, and loosed an immolating payload into the "crowd".

Leave none alive.

Not bad, for his first time.

"Good, good," the serious voice said again over the vox. "Keep your eye on your objective."

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

"But don't let that blind you to your surroundings, either."

CRASH!

"Shit!" Felix grunted, backing up as the wall in front of him collapsed under the force of a massive fist.

On guard!

Interlocutor!

A colossal, hunch-backed figure forced its way through the hole in the crumbling wall, body wreathed in rockcrete dust. It rose to full height, red eyes gleaming from darkened silhouette framed by sun and firelight. Its bronze faceplate lit up from the sparks from its Thunderstrike Gauntlet.

Despite standing shorter than the Acheron, the Knight Gallant maintained a more imposing bearing.

"Have at you!" the Gallant pilot roared over the vox, voice gravely and deep. The machine raised its right arm, Reaper Chainsword screeching to life.

Block!

"Ngh!" the Acheron pilot grunted, batting the enemy weapon aside with his Reaper Chainfist. Sparks erupted as their spinning teeth ground against one another. Realizing his close-quarters arm was shorter, he gave ground. Relied on his speed to keep out of reach.

"What's the matter?" said the Gallant pilot, voice tinged by rough humor. "Why not spar with your-?"

Seeing an opening, the youth twisted to his left, running around the Gallant's right side to evade a swing. Bringing his left arm up, the Acheron doused the Gallant's ion shields in coruscating flame.

"Ngh! Clever!" grunted the Gallant pilot. He took two steps to the side, and grabbed a ruined wall with his gauntlet. "But not clever enough!"

"Ah!" Felix gasped, rushing to the side to avoid a chunk of rockrete as large as an armiger. It clipped his ion shield, washing his armour in blue and white.

"Don't get bogged down!" commanded the voice over the vox. "Keep moving!"

Your elder speaks truth. Remember your task.

Panting heavily, Felix dove through the hole the Gallant made, and tore into a sprint.

"Running away, are we?" growled the Gallant pilot. With a punch of his gauntlet, the wall collapsed entirely in the Acheron's wake. The Gallant scaled the pile of debris and shattered masonry. Its pilot chuckled sourly. "That's hardly honorable behavior!"

Behind Felix's eyes, through the cable inserted in his neck, the Choir spoke on.

There is nothing honorable in your task. There is only Necessity. Burn. Burn them all.

"I know...haff...I know..." the pilot muttered, breathing hard. Whipped his head, forcing a stray lock of blond hair from over his eye.

"Aw, leave 'im alone, Brice."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Shit!" Felix gasped, hunching forward as the ground exploded around him. He cast a glance right through his peripheral cameras.

Planting a huge foot on the crest of a hill, the Knight Crusader gleamed green and cream in the sunlight. As its Rapid-Fire Battle Cannon cycled ammunition, it leveled its Avenger Gatling Cannon.

"Let me have some fun," chuckled the Crusader's pilot, adjusting his glasses. Flashed a playful smile.

Boom-Boom-Boom-Boom-Boom!

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Felix sputtered, zig-zagging to avoid an onslaught of oversized, armor-piecing rounds. To his horror, the shots seemed to aim low, at his feet.

"Dance! Dance!" the Crusader pilot cackled. His Battle Cannon refreshed, he added that to the firing line.

BOOM! BOOM!

"Come on, guys! Knock it off!" the youth whined, darting left around a cluster of rubble. He could feel and see the strain on his ion shields, as color flashed across the cream quarters of his steed's armour plates. Shield generators ran hot.

"The Orks'll bully you even harder," said the Gallant pilot, circling around the shorter side of the rubble to head the Acheron off. In his cockpit, the pilot cracked his neck to one side, then another. "You should know that by now."

Zeroing in with his strategic overlay, the Acheron pilot doused another cluster of targets in flame. Watched rune tags disappear by the dozen. Hooking right, he scanned the environment. His eyes narrowed, and he raised his chainfist arm.

Bam-Bam!

Firing twin-linked heavy bolters, he damaged the base of a jutting support beam at the far edge of the rubble pile. Then, rushed forward.

"Bad aim," grunted Brice, charging forward. Sparks cascaded off his gauntlet, while chainsword revved. "You're not getting aw-"

As the two were about to meet, the youth swung with his chainfist, without revving. Instead of aiming for the Gallant, he slammed the support beam. Its base weakened by bolter fire, it toppled over into the Gallant's path.

"Ngh!" grunted the Gallant pilot, stumbling to a stop and batting the hunk of debris away with his gauntlet. Watched it crumbled and fly off. Spied the green, cream, and black blur zip past.

This boy's clever, isn't he?

Timid, but clever.

Timidity will earn him little glory. But cleverness might save his life.

"Almost there," said the calmer voice over the vox. "One more target. You can do it."

Boom-Boom-Boom! BOOM!

"Easier...said...than done...!" Felix grunted, dodging explosions. He gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his brow. Heat rose inside the cockpit, as he felt his ion shield weather round after round. The generators couldn't endure much more.

Fight. Fight on. Your kin, your house, demand it. Not for Honor, or Glory. For Duty.

A three storey tall gate of ramshackle metal and supports loomed ahead. Stomping through field of low barricades, the Acheron readied its Flame Cannon. Felix's targeting runes locked on the line of 'infantry' manning the opening.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

A shape emerged from the shadow of the gate. Colossal feet stepped contemptuously through the crowd of simulated Orks.

It raised a Rapid-Fire Battle Cannon.

Evade, boy!

"...no..." Felix gasped, eyes wide. He slammed the controls to the left.

BOOM!

A ruined building collapsed in on itself, sending up a plume of dust and smoke.

"Albert!?" Felix cried, slowed to a standstill. Eyes fixed on the frame emerging onto the field. "But-!"

Over the vox, the calm, serious voice spoke. A Rune of Challenge appeared on the Acheron pilot's screen.

"You didn't think it would be easy, did you...brother?" said Albert, from within his Knight Paladin. Armor of quartered green and cream.

He revved his Reaper Chainsword, bronze trim glinting in the sun.

"You have your objective, Felix. Now come!"

Chapter 119: Emeraldus

Notes:

Hope everyone likes all this Imperial Knight action. And all these Knight characters. Because we're going to spend A LOT of the coming chapters with them. Get comfy.

"Well, Felix...I'm waiting..."

Wind swept across a training field clogged with junk. Rusty, derelict vehicles. Ruined buildings. Ramshackle Mek workshops and barracks and guard towers. Ground dusted by spent ammunition. Moss and grass stubbornly colonized the cracks, despite the best efforts of House groundskeepers.

A one-to-one recreation of an Ork stronghold, frozen at the moment mid-conquest. Its leaders remembered only in the honor rolls of the honored ancestors who put them to the sword.

Before the yawning gap of the simulated gates of Warboss Whizz Nobshatta, two scions of House Leclair stood, ensconced in their colossal steeds. Bound by blood, opposed in the moment by obligation.

"..." Swallowing, Felix checked his rear-view cameras. In the distance, the Knight Crusader repositioned itself atop a new perch, seeking good sightlines. Below, the Knight Gallant lazily shoved over a mass of debris with its gauntlet.

The Knight Paladin's bronze trim glinted in the sun. Within, the eldest Prince narrowed his eyes.

"Come!" Albert Leclair barked, pointing his Battle Cannon. "Prove your worth to pilot the Dolorous Duty!"

Gritting his teeth, Felix pressed his mount forward. The Acheron trampled barricades of sheet metal and barrels.

Burn.

BOOM!

The youth felt the impact against his ion shields in his teeth. Green and yellow cascaded across his rippling bubble like a bow wave. He charged, footsteps thundering in time with the roar of his heart.

Eyes darted between the Knight before him, and the row of mock Orks arrayed in the mouth of the gate. Targeting runes centered on the final objective.

Burn them.

As the Paladin's cannon cycled, Dolorous Duty pointed its chainfist. Twin-linked heavy bolters cycled.

Bam-Bam. Bam-Bam.

Wisps of color whirled off the Paladin's shield. Barely a scratch. The walker's strategic overlay readied another firing solution.

BOOM!

At the last second, the Acheron dashed right. The round sailed past, exploding a building in the distance.

Dolorous Duty revved its chainfist.

"So be it," Albert said, lowering his cannon. He stepped forward, not flinching as he revved his own chainsword.

Screeeech! Clang!

Sparks erupted, as the Paladin effortlessly parried the Acheron. Side-stepped, allowing the taller, faster machine to stumble past, overextended.

"Dammit!" Felix grunted, twisting around. This close, he could make out not only the quartered Sunburst Crown & Fleur-de-lis design on the Paladin's tilting shield - a derivation of the heraldries of their parents - but individual nicks and scratches in the adamantine hull. Cosmetic scars and chipped paint, not yet fully repaired from the Paladin's last campaign.

The youth's eyes widened, as the Paladin's cannon-arm pulled back.

Crunch!

Felix felt the uppercut through his entire body, a blow planted right in the Acheron's chest. He stumbled, rockcrete cracking beneath stomping feet as he struggled to remain upright.

"Ngh!" he grunted, landing hard back in his seat. Winced, sternum burning in sympathetic pain. Raising its left arm, the Acheron loosed a volley of flame.

Fwooosh!

Fire parted over a bubble, like water around a river stone. A dark silhouette approached, undaunted.

"Don't be foolish," Albert said, unfazed as his ion shield absorbed the thermal assault. The Paladin strode forward, wreathed in rippling red, and stabbed with its chainsword.

Screeeech! Clang!

Their chain weapons shot sparks. Despite the Paladin's inferior size, it pushed the Acheron back. When the two weapons parted, the Paladin lifted a huge foot and kicked the larger machine's leg out from under it.

"Nagh!" Felix grunted, his machine falling to one knee. Frantically, he threw his chainfist up defensively. It squealed until one of the chains snapped off entirely, the other chain's bits worn down to nubs.

Burn them! Burn them! Burn them!, the ancestral choir roared, throbbing in the back of the youth's skull. Have you forgotten your duty!?

"I...I can't..." Felix whined, his Flame Cannon batted away by the Paladin's Battle Cannon. He had to pivot, the Paladin circling to interpose itself between the Acheron and its target.

The enemy machine raked the Acheron's ion shields with a sustained beam from its carapace-mounted meltagun. Concentrated plasma energy silently cooked the bubble, that blossomed with greens and reds and blues.

"Yield," Albert said, flatly. Raised his chainsword and brought it down. "Yield now."

Clang!

"Ngh!" Felix grunted, struggling to rise. Warning runes flashed scarlet. Sweat poured down his brow, heat building in the cockpit as the Dolorous Duty's ion shield generators pushed to their absolute limit. "N-no!"

"I said YIELD!" Albert roared, stepping back.

The Paladin leveled its cannon at almost point blank range.

"...!" Felix gasped, stumbling backwards in his haste to escape.

BOOM!

VRRRRRRR-POP!

With a final, bright burst of light, the Acheron's ion shields shattered. Red lights flashed inside the cockpit, as the shield generators overheated and shut down. Bowled over by the force of the blow, the machine fell backwards. Huge frame cracked rockcrete as it landed.

CRASH!

"GAH!" Felix groaned, a sharp pain in his back. At first, it felt like his spine might have been broken. But as he struggled, sitting horizontal, he realized it was sympathetic pain from the Duty. "...ngh..."

Wincing, he opened his eyes. Struggled to move his Flame Cannon.

A shadow fell over his forward cameras. A foot rose, and stepped on the Acheron's left arm. Pinned it to the ground.

"Ack!" Felix grunted, hissed. Felt like a weight bore down on his true left arm. Hand left the control stick, twitching in pain. "Haaah!"

"..." Red eyes staring down at the Acheron, the Paladin remained still. Albert huffed. "Your ion shield has been breached. By the rules of this training exercise, your run is over."

Panting, Falix swallowed, and shut his eyes. He slumped back, deflated. "...yeah...I yield..."

Shifting weight, the Paladin removed its foot from the Acheron's arm.

"Don't feel disheartened, brother," Albert said, turning to watch the approach of stomping feet. "You fought admirably."

"Agreed," Brice said, the Knight Gallant arriving to loom over the defeated machine. It extended an open gauntlet, no longer wreathed in energy. An approving grunt issued through the vox. "Seven out of eight ain't bad."

"Yeah," chuckled the Crusader pilot, slowly making his way over. He adjusted his glasses lazily. "I remember when Brice piloted Dolorous Duty on this course. He only managed one of his targets the first time!"

The Gallant pilot grumbled. "Shut up, Christophe!"

Brought back upright, Felix sighed. Eyes locked on the floor of his cockpit. "..."

Looking up, he saw his brothers mill around. Their voices animated as they playfully exchanged insults and banter.

Remember, boy, the voices from the throne intoned, solemnly. When you pilot this machine, it is not for your own glory. It is for House Leclair. It is for them. Their safety. Their glory. Their victory. For theirs is also yours. When you are tempered by the humility of service, then you will be free to pursue your own ambitions.

"..."

Felix smiled.

---

"[...is this the ship in question?]"

Shadows cast across floating junk. Sparks sputtered in kilometer-wide gashes, like blood of light from open wounds.

A shuttle weaved through derelict fighter craft. Peeked over the crest of a ruined Destroyer.

"[Affirmative.]"

The Claymore class Corvette loomed out before the shuttle. Its hull pristine sky-blue, trimmed in white. Other shuttles clung to its side like leeches.

"[Welcome to the Humility of Fadehome.]"

 

"O Omnissiah! Such breathtaking specimens! I am in awe!"

Rent wall panels wept sparks. Artificial hands hauled corpses to a line. Gore-spattered tarps removed from land vehicles, to serve as impromptu shrouds.

Figures in oxide-red robes milled about, mechadendrites and tools working to fix pressing damage.

In the back of the hanger, a Castellax automata in mismatched paint lowered an arm. A hoof planted on it, mechadendrites wrapping around the limb as it boosted her up. A small cadre of lightly cyberized gestalts milled nearby, hoping to catch their new master in case she fell.

"Oh, do mind your step, Daisy!" Diodana called, metal hands around her rebreather. The gestalt woman trudged forward on a quartet of steel spider legs, a supplement to take weight off her aging hip. Another damnable organic hindrance, in need of replacing.

She held her hands up again, gesturing reverently to the colossus that shadowed them all. "Even setting aside your safety, we must not tarnish this miracle of the Machine God!"

The Knight Errant Hammer of Witches stood vigil, its blue and white armour unblemished. Its tilting shield marked by a stylized white hammer on a field of blue. On its right arm, a Thermal Cannon. Its left, a Thunderstrike Gauntlet.

"So...these are Knights?" Natasha said, crossing her arms. Her eyes roved between lines of corpses, the duplex-sized suit in the distance, and the heavily battered 'miniature' walker crumpled in the middle of the cavernous mech bay. She scratched her cheek, frowning. "I suppose the heraldry fits the name, but..."

"A product of their origins, and the social structures they were forced to adopt during Old Night," Diodana said, her spider legs clanking noisily on the hanger floor. She stooped over the fallen Armiger Warglaive, metal hands stroking its crumpled adamantine hull and smashed limbs. Traced telltale scratch marks that marred its blue paint job. "Oooh...you poor thing. Look what those...vile monsters did to you..."

Shunk.

"Got it!" Elster grunted, engaging the emergency release. Top-mounted hatch swung open, settling horizontally against the floor. She stooped, shining a flashlight inside. Whistled, as her Medical Module ran an itemized string of problems she could tell at a glance. "Damn...you were right, Dio. Pierced straight through the front, and into the pilot. Never stood a chance."

"I can understand a mobile weapons platform just fine," Natasha mused, circling around the body of the Armiger. Hooves picked warily between fallen, savaged dock-workers in their miniature lifter-mechs. "Do they need to walk, though? Would not a tracked or wheeled vehicle suffice?"

"Not on all terrain," Elster shook her head, rising to stand. She motioned to a pair of Stars, then to the cockpit. "This one too, girls." She stepped back, folding her arms as the Stars approached the hatch. "If it's a weapons platform meant to engage on any environment the galaxy could throw at you, it's sometimes easier to forgo tracks or tires."

"The mobile armored suits we call 'Knights' were gifts to humanity from their technological forebears," Diodana said, inspecting the ruined Reaper Chainsword. "In the Dark Age of Technology..."

"Dark because it was regressive?" Natasha said, nose wrinkling as she caught a whiff of the cockpit's odor. The corpse inside just old enough to start smelling. She waved a hand in front of her face. "Ngh!"

"Dark because we know so little about it," Diodana said, holding up a metal finger without looking up. Mechadendrites prodded shattered leg actuators. "When the first human colonists set forth, they carried STCs."

"Standard Template Constructs," Elster said, glancing at the Kranich. "Apparently, a combination automated manufactorum and design repository for all the technology colonists would need to survive and thrive."

"Much of what we can build now is collated from STC fragments," Diodana said, photo-receptors peering balefully through the hole in the machine's chest. "Copies made from the STC's databanks. Sometimes for preservation, for even those glorious STCs couldn't last forever. Sometimes...parceled out as convenient, for the STCs proper were huge installations."

"Ah, I see," Natasha nodded, stroking her chin. "No point in keeping all one's eggs in one basket. Spread parts of what you know around, to make operating a large civilization easier. Or as assets to give trading partners, client states, fellow colonies..."

"Unwisely," Diodana grumbled, standing up and clenching a metal fist, "even to Xenos civilizations. We've found more than a few among the wrecks and ruins of races the Imperium wiped out. Were they stolen, or...?"

"If you're trying to survive in a hostile galaxy," Natasha said, shrugging and closing her eyes, "it pays to have allies. Even if they're not human."

"Such foolishness brought the end to many a poor colony, I can assure you," Diodana huffed.

"Easy now, be gentle," Elster said, waving gently down at the Stars. Watched them extract the blood-soaked cadaver. "Good."

"Ugh!" Natasha groaned, covering her mouth and retreating a few steps. "...so...what? These machines, or the plans to build them, went with the early colonists?"

"Precisely," Diodana nodded, clapping her hands and bowing her head to the tragically ruined human component to the blessed machine. "These 'mechs' were designed not merely as weapons, but with peaceful purposes in mind. Agriculture, forestry, cargo hauling, hazardous environment work, mining..."

"Mining?" Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. "Something this large?"

"You see what's left of that gun?" Elster said, pointing to the machine's mangled right arm. "That's a melta gun. It does exactly what it says. I've used a smaller one to core Space Marines in an instant, straight through their power armor. They can make short work of stone."

"As can the chainsword," Diodana said, reaching down to pat the melee implement. A single spider leg nudged a loose chain. "It's as much a stabbing implement as a slashing one. Miners press the end against tunnel walls, and allow the teeth to rapidly dig into solid rock. Though the chains and teeth must be replaced with some regularity, I'm told..."

"Oh..." Natasha said, circling around to the front to view what remained of the machine's war-making implements. Her eyes glanced right, to watch the Stars haul the pilot away. "...that helmet..."

"Ah! Well caught!" Diodana said, turning around. She followed after them. "STAR units, a moment."

"Uh, okay..." said one of the Stars, the two pausing as the tech adept waddled noisily over.

The adept removed the helmet from the man's head. Wires trailed from the back, snapped at some point during the battle, no doubt. The youth's brown hair clung, matted, to his blood-stained face.

"The Helm Mechanicum," Diodana breathed, traipsing back with the device held aloft reverently. "A miniaturized, less invasive form of the Throne Mechanicum we will find within the larger Knight over yonder. The key to connecting the pilot's cognitive functions with that of the suit. Their minds melded, their thoughts intermingled."

"Thoughts intermingling?" Natasha said, walking over and getting a close look at the helmet. She stroked her mouth pensively. "Wait...these 'Knight' suits have thoughts of their own?"

"Of that...I am less knowledgeable," Diodana breathed, deflating. Stared down at the helmet, metal hands brushing dust and blood from its outside surface. "What I do know is that the connection enhances the pilot's ability to control the machine. Intermingling with the suit's Machine Spirit, and commanding its limbs and weapons as if it were an extension of the pilot's own body." The green lights in her four photo-receptors winked out, as she pressed her forehead to the helmet's top. "Oh, to be ensconced in a blessed machine. One with it. Surely, it is the ideal every Mechanicus priest aspires to, when we remove our flesh and replace it with the certainty of steel..."

Curious... the Kranich thought, looking at the tech adept. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing the eldest Ara atop the larger Knight, fiddling with tool and tendril at the roof hatch. It's curious. Seeing the difference between a woman of self-aware and lukewarm faith...and a dyed-in-the-wool True Believer.

Natasha shook her head, shelving the matter for later. "...alright, so we've established that these suits link with their wearers, and can be used for both war-making and peaceful purposes." She stroked her chin. "Why the 'Knightly' aspect?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

The group turned, as a significantly taller replika approached, with a Star at her side and a body slung over her shoulders.

"Hey, Ish," Elster said, walking over. She studied the writhing menial in the ruddy stained jumpsuit. "Find trouble?"

"Eh, nothing a stun rod and some duct tape couldn't fix," Ishtar shrugged. She patted the disheveled man on the ass with a bit of force, causing him to jump. Scowled at him. "If you calm the fuck down, and agree to behave, we'll let you live. Understand?"

Craning his neck to look at the Storch, the wild-eyed, wild-haired man nodded frantically. His mouth and hands bound with tape, his face scored with barely closed cuts and claw marks.

"Good boy," Ishtar said. She looked to the Star at her side. "Help me put this loser down, Breach?"

"Sure," Breach nodded, taking one side of the man. "Easy does it."

"Once Petunia gets the intercom working, we'll hopefully be able to corral more of the surviving crew for processing," Elster sighed, scratching her head.

"I presume I'm not permitted to servitorize any of these, either?" Diodana said, looking over at the replika commander. "Given all they've experienced, having their higher brain functions removed may be a blessing..."

"Yeah, Daisy would never let that happen," Elster said, glancing over her shoulder at the big knight. Studied her eldest child at work, by the light of a blow torch. "She'll be sour enough, putting any existing servitors in this place to work."

"..." Natasha looked nervously between the combat engineer and the tech adept.

Daisy's handful of 'Reclaimed' were the first time the Kranich encountered one of the Servitors, albeit 'ex-servitors', with their autonomy restored. The idea of humans turned into literal automatons seemed...more barbaric than anything she knew the Nation to have done. At least a replika had the illusion of free will, within a system designed to manipulate them.

...I need to inspect any Servitors aboard this vessel, Natasha thought, oxidizing fluid rushing from her face. She looked over her shoulder at the cyborgs milling around the feet of the colossal knight. If any are as they were...

"Anyway," Elster said, looking up at the Storch, "you were saying? Why do you think the 'Knight' thing occurred?"

"Oh right," Ishtar said, crossing her arms. She shrugged, brushing a lock of red hair from her face. "Just makes me think, if a bunch of worlds across the galaxy got cut off for a few thousand years, it would all go to hell. Right?"

"Affirmative," Diodana nodded, tucking the Helm Mechanicum under her arm. "Many worlds were reduced to a state of techno-barbarism. Clinging to what technology they could."

"Well, history says when the normal systems of government break down," Ishtar said, shifting weight onto one hoof, "whoever can exert power becomes the new government. Even if only as a landed warlord."

Natasha's face lit up. "Ah. I see."

The Storch hooked a thumb at the big knight at the back of the room. "I'd bet good money for a lot of planets, anyone who could pilot one of those is the boss by default." Ishtar shrugged. "After that, it's just a matter of their warlord position turning into a hereditary one. Parents passing their lands, mechs, and latterly noble titles onto their kids, until the power structure becomes entrenched."

"An astute observation, STCR-N0603," Diodana nodded. "It is precisely so. When the Imperium and Mechanicum reached out to bring the galaxy back into the fold, we encountered countless 'Knight Worlds', where a hereditary caste of pilot-nobles held both military and political power." She tapped her rebreather mask pensively. "Curiously, many such worlds, having secured the safety of their demesnes so effectively, calcified around a complex system of courtly ritual and intrigue. When either empire came bearing promises of new Knight suits and the opportunity to use them in the Great Crusade, many pledged loyalty to one or the other expeditiously."

"I mean, if I had to sit through a whole naming ceremony for an hour, before I'm even allowed to get up to take a piss," Ishtar said, shrugging and smiling, "I'd want to get the hell out too."

"That's all well and good," Natasha said, furrowing her brow. "But to have the same pattern occur repeatedly, across a galaxy's worth of worlds, that were all cut off from one another. It can't be so simple. No system can persist for thousands of years, even just enduring its own internal pressures, without changing in novel and idiosyncratic ways. If they're pushed by external pressure to become Knights, why stay Knights? Why are they more similar than different?"

"No idea," Elster shrugged. She looked between the machines, then turned to Diodana. "Could we repair them?"

"Alas, I haven't the knowledge or ability," Diodana sighed, shaking her head. "My foremost expertise is in the repair and maintenance of voidships. We would require a Sacristan, or preferably a whole team of them, to perform the proper rites of maintenance and placation. Their bellicose machine spirits alone make a Knight suit a daunting project."

"I see," Elster nodded, face dropping with eyes closed.

Shunk.

"Hey!" cried Daisy, standing up. Waved a hand over her head. "I got it open!"

Everyone in the room turned to watch the eldest Ara.

She crouched down, then slid into the cockpit.

"..."

After a moment, she climbed out again.

"..." Daisy stood atop the broad hunchback of the colossal machine. Still, unmoving. Eyes stared into space.

"..." Elster, shoulders hunched, cupped her hand next to her mouth and yelled. "What is it?"

Stationed high above the hanger floor, Daisy steadied herself on the upright hatch door.

"...bad," she called, finally.

Down in the belly of the machine, sat in the pilot's chair, the Knight remained.

Body twisted, limbs wrapped around himself in medically impossible ways. Skin pale, covered in tiny cuts and bruises.

Sir Brandon of House St. Blaise, cold and alone. His face frozen in an expression of absolute terror. Eyes and tongue missing.

---

"Enjoying the view, my boy?"

Wind rustled through trees, carrying the voices of peasant workers up from the vineyard. Baskets filled to the brim with green grapes, air filled to the brim with laughter. Beyond the mountain slope, the dark, green waters of the lake glittered invitingly.

On the opposite bank, a collection of brick buildings, plastered in cream and topped with green shingles. Air tinted bronze, as the sun set over the world of Emeraldus.

The young pilot sighed. Cracked a smile, the towel in his hands patting down the last of the moisture in his hair.

"Lou," said Prince Felix, Knight of House Leclair. He turned from the scene, leaning on the ornate sandstone railing. Blond bangs hung over one eye. A green and cream jacket draped over his shoulders, white shirt thin and loose on his frame. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise, lad," chuckled the old man. He strode forward, metal prosthetic leg tapping against the stone floor of the terrace. His robes billowed in the wind, quartered green and cream.

He rubbed his bald head, micro-ports on his fingertips tracing the complex geometric pattern of the electoo that covered his face and scalp. Beneath the sunshine, the tattoo was a dull yellow that almost blended into his bronzed skin. His eyes color-shifted dark automatically, to shield his vision from the glare.

The two hugged. The Pilot stood two heads taller than the broad-shouldered, muscular Sacristan.

"Ooh...I caught your training exercise," Lou said, pulling back. He smiled, patting the young man's arm. "A fine showing. How's Duty treating you?"

"Oh, she...she certainly handled well," Felix sighed, rubbing his left arm. Fingers flexed, trying to shake the psychosomatic ache. "Shame about the end..."

"Nonsense, lad, you did fine," Lou said, gesturing back the way he came. The two crossed the balcony, leaving the view over the vineyard behind. Shadows fell over their heads, as they walked beneath the veranda. The Sacristan permitted himself a brief frown, the electoo on his scalp glowing a soft blue in the shade. "...the Ancestors didn't trouble you overmuch, did they?"

"..." As they walked, Felix stared into space. Thoughts turned to the Choir. To the visions of ruin, screams, and fire. "...are they always so...intense, Lou?"

"Hmm...Duty, as you know, is a...special case," the Sacristan said, rubbing his gray beard. "Acherons are like that. Grim machine spirits. Unfit for polite company. Used for tasks least glorious, and most...mmm..."

"...dishonorable?" Felix breathed, stopping before the double doors, fingers reaching up to trace the molding between glass panes.

"...necessary," Lou said, finally. Nodded resolutely, and raised an index finger. "There is a time and a place for every machine, Felix. And a time and a place for every kind of violence." He looked up at the youth sympathetically, then patted his back. "Best...you get the worst of this Dolorous business out of the way now. Most of your brothers, cousins, and forefathers did a tour inside her. It won't be too long, my boy, before your turn is complete, and you'll have a chance to graduate to a new steed. One more fitting the temperament of a Knight."

"Whew...I hope so, Lou," Felix sighed, looking forward. Without prompting, waiting hands opened the doors. The two stepped through, past a pair of footmen in clean pressed green jackets. "I hope so."

"Master Felix," said a maid, bowing. She held up a bundle of yellow roses, wrapped in cream colored paper. "The flowers you requested. Shall I take your towel?"

"If it's not too much bother," Felix nodded, exchanging the items. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble to do my duty, my lord," the maid said, automatically. Bowing, she walked away.

"Ah, my lad, that's what I like about you," Lou said, smirking. He patted the youth on the back again. Eyes upraised, lightening automatically in the shade of the palace interior. "You've always had a kind heart."

"..." Felix stared at the floor, then at the roses in his arms. "So I'm told..."

Chapter 120: Leclair Manor

"Ah...what a lovely evening. Isn't it, my boy?"

Buttoning the top of his cream shirt, Felix Leclair nodded. Tugged at the green jacket draped over his shoulders, a paper bundle of yellow roses tucked under his arm. "True. It is."

He rubbed his left bicep, massaging the psychosomatic ache from the hour before, when his brother's Knight suit stepped on the arm of his Acheron, Dolorous Duty.

Pilot and Sacristan strode down the hallway, warm light streaming through a series of latticed windows to their right. Their feet tread on a succession of green and cream carpets, woven into complex patterns of creeping vines, checkers, fleur-de-lis, and crowns.

Walls adorned with portraits of Leclair's noble ancestors, dressed in jackets and ruffles. Scarred faces, augmetic wires, prosthetic limbs. Beneath them on the floor, carpets were specifically woven to match each pilot-lord's personal heraldry. Griffins, eagles, sunbursts, mailed fists, winged skulls.

Behind each painted figure, a rendition of their great steed. Knight suits larger than life, towering over forests or lakes or even, when either pilot or artist felt bold, mountains. Few dared such presumption these days, when so many Leclair luminaries fought beside the Collegia Titanica and their God-Engines.

A pair of servants stood at attention, then quietly opened another set of double doors.

The long gallery yawned out before and around them, ceilings vaulted and bright in their cream painted paneling. Sunlight poured in, bathing green and cream carpets and embroidered furniture richer, warmer shades of brown and orange. Glinted off bronze fixtures and statuettes. Outside the windows, a view of vineyard, lake, and village spread out wide. Sun reflected bright off the lake's rippling surface.

Beyond that, nestled in the hills, the Tilting Fields. A massive stone Colosseum, thousands of years old. While the junkyard valley behind the palace housed the recreation of an Ork fortress, where pilots honed their skills, it was the Tilting Fields where nobles from across Emeraldus gathered to prove them.

Pilot and Sacristan, spurning the harsh sunlight, turned toward the lefthand wall. Its broad, tall surface covered entirely in a dizzying collection of paintings. Lords, ladies, children, pets. Knight frames, of course. Some stood regally, others embroiled in scenes of battle.

One painting, long as an Armiger's stride, depicted an entire lance of Leclair Knights, resplendent in green and cream, charging a line of red-clad, duplicitous Eldar. Autocannons and missiles blasted jetbikes and aircraft from the sky, while chainswords and thunderstrike gauntlets sought to clash with the blade of the foe's spindly Wraithknight.

Dominating an entire section of wall, another painting the length of three Armiger strides depicted a greater battle still.

THE greater battle. Gal-Galon.

Dozens of lances, their suits arrayed in a dizzying panoply of colors, trudged across a shallow, storm-wracked sea. Shafts of sunlight cracked through the clouds to spotlight the great luminaries of the League. Their foes: the insubstantial, indistinct shadows of traitor Knights, colors and names expunged. At their backs, the silhouettes of more obscene machines. Doppel-engines, barnacle-crusted mechanisms of orbiculer frame and many writhing arms, atop thin, tripod legs. Only the vague suggestion of mechanical structure permitted, where a noble Knight's battle cannons struck the doppel-engine square, its smashed and many-oculer'd face softly lit against the darkness.

"..."

Roses in hand, Felix ignored these sights of glory. As he walked, his eyes turned up. Alighted onto portraits of his immediate ancestors. He knew his entire line, of course, stretching back a hundred generations. He could scarcely satisfy the Dolorous Duty's ancestral choir if he didn't recount their names and deeds. But certain luminaries of the Great Crusade, when the Imperium first arrived at Emeraldus's shores, kept his attention.

"Tell me, lad," Lou asked, leaning on the back of a couch, rubbing his lower back. "Ooh...once you've completed your tour in the Duty, what kind of Knight were you considering?"

"..."

Felix approached the center of the gallery. Looked up at a collection of paintings granted a place of importance. The section devoted to the current High King and his family. Dominating these, twin portraits, side by side.

On the left, cocksure in bearing and brown of hair, a younger vision of High King Chrétian Leclair, Hero of Nova Terra, Hrud-reaper, the Solarian. Just some of many titles. His Knight Castellan, Dawnbreak, loomed over his right shoulder, clad green and bristling with weapons.

Felix looked up at the face of his father, olive skin unblemished and hair unfaded, with admiration and loneliness.

On the right, eyes kind and brows fierce, stood the golden-haired and rosy cheeked Lady Faustine Leclair, Warrior Consort, Breaker of the Fellhammer Gate, Gargant-slayer. Her cream jacket, trimmed in green, embellished with spots of yellow fleur-de-lis. Her Knight Lancer, Clair de Lune, towered tall over her left shoulder, pale as the moon. The frame of its Ion Gauntlet Shield at rest, its Shock Lance upraised.

"..." Felix stared at his mother's face sadly. Then, down at the shrine set against the wall before her portrait. He rested a hand on the stem of a rose in his bundle. "...if it wouldn't be so difficult..."

"Ah...I see," Lou breathed, waddling over. He smiled kindly. "You were always close, you and the High Lady."

Felix cast a glance to a group portrait. A huddle of figures. Mother, father (a distinguishing gray to his temples by then), and six sons in various states of growth. The youngest, barely ten years of age, a boy with hair as gold as his mother's. She held him close, hands protectively rested on the child's shoulders.

He remembered posing for it. His mother called him her strong squire, for enduring it.

A tightness formed in the young Prince's throat.

"I'm sure she'd want you to have her, Felix," Lou said, smiling.

Felix breathed, looking up at the Clair de Lune in the portrait. Then to the shrine. Pulled out the rose, held it up.

"You'll need to get in line, baby brother."

With catlike tread across soft carpet, a man silently approached. Shadow fell over the young man.

"Ah!" Felix breathed, seeing the rose plucked from his hand out of the corner of his eye. "B-brother!? When did you-?"

"Came into orbit this morning." The man spun on his heeled boots, wavy brown hair rippling in the warm sunlight. Green jacket open, shirt top unbuttoned to show a plunging neckline. He buried his nose in the flower, immaculate olive features cast in gold. Closed his eyes, inhaled the scent. "Ah...exquisite. Before you ask, campaign was dull. Has been, since the Legionaires left for Emperor-knows-where."

The pilot flicked back his hair, looking half-lidded at the youth. "But as I was saying," the elder Prince purred, smiling haughtily. "If anyone's going to pilot the Lune, it will be me."

"..." Felix frowned, watching his brother strut around them and approach the shrine.

"Master Dorian," Lou harumphed, frowning, "you know full well when it comes to that engine in particular, it's your father's decision. Lady Faustine never named the Lune's successor in her will, before..."

"And I'll have plenty of time," said Dorian the Beautiful, waving dismissively without looking back, "between now and my baby brother's 'proper' Becoming, to win Father over." He bowed dramatically to the Lady's portrait, then deposited the rose in a waiting urn.

"...I..." Felix muttered, frowning. Stood a bit taller, grimacing. "I'm worthy of the Lune, brother!"

"Not with results like today," Dorian said sardonically, turning on his heels. He fished in his coat pocket, removing an ornate metal box. "Yes, yes, I saw the recording while you were in the shower, Felix. Perfectly adequate. Commendable, even." He opened the box, and cast a pitying glance at the youth. "But...not Perfect."

"..." Felix sucked a breath, heart skipping a beat. He deflated, eyes downcast. Rubbed his aching left arm.

"If you can't even complete the practice course perfectly, how can you expect to protect the Lune in actual war, baby brother?" said Dorian, tut-tutting. He plunged his pinkie finger in the box, scooping a nail-ful of unidentifiable powder. "Surely you agree, Father would be more at ease entrusting Mother's steed to me? When that happens, of course, I'll happily pass the Coup on to you. An Errant IS much like a Warglaive, is it not? You'll feel right at home."

"...I...suppose," Felix mumbled, hugging the flowers to his chest. "...an Errant wouldn't be so bad..."

"Splended!" The man inserted the finger in his nose and inhaled sharply. Eyes clapped shut, Dorian shuddered violent. "Nghh! Oooh..."

Lou scowled. "Master Dorian," grumbled the Sacristan, crossing his arms. "Even after years of their absence, the Third Legion has been a terrible influence on you. All this talk of Perfection. The parties. The wenches and swains." He waved a hand at the older pilot. "And the drugs!"

"What about them old man?" Dorian gasped, rubbing his nose. Eyes watering. "What business is it yours what I put in my body?"

"Stimulants and combat drugs are one thing," Lou said, wagging a finger. "You're not the first pilot to seek chemical assistance in battle. But the snuff, and...whatever else you're putting in your system. When you link, your steed shares everything you experience. At this rate, you'll contaminate the Coup de Grâce with your chemical dependence! What will Felix, or any future pilots, do if their steed is addicted to smack!?"

"Piss off, old timer," Dorian scowled, furrowing his brow and looking sidelong down at the man. Deposited his snuff-box back in his jacket. "You're not my Sacristan, and you're certainly not Father. While the Coup is mine, I'll do with her as I please. It's my right."

A servant in a powdered wig approached with a silver tray, bearing a bottle and crystal glass. Pouring a drink, he handed it to the older pilot's waiting hand.

Dorian drained the glass in a single instant, and tossed the receptacle aside.

Crash!

"Ah! Dorian!" Felix flinched, staring down in dismay at the shattered crystal on the floor. "Why did you...?"

"What?" Dorian shrugged, shutting his eyes and looking away from the mess he made. "That's what servants are for. Really, baby brother..."

The servant bearing the tray retreated, while another rushed over with a small broom and dustbin. He stooped, scowling as he swept up expensive crystal shards.

Double doors at the end of the gallery creaked open.

"...I see you've wasted no time settling in, brother."

Felix's eyes lit up. He turned. "Oh! Ernest! You're back as well?"

Crossing the room in black boots, Ernest the Dark Cloud smiled weakly. Removed his green jacket, exposing a black vest underneath. Brushed long, straight black hair (dyed) behind his ear, exposing the bags under his eyes. "Felix," he nodded, speaking softly. "You did well today."

"Thank you, brother," Felix nodded, returning a weak smile.

"You spoil him, Ernie," Dorian said, flopping down into an embroidered couch. Propped his head up lazily on an armrest. "But then, I suppose the youngest sons must stick together."

"I'm relieved to see you home, Master Ernest," Lou said, shaking the dour young man's hand. "We all feared the worst. How was Segmentum Terra? Did you see your father?"

"A busy place," Ernest said, nodding tiredly. He frowned, turning so both brothers could see him. "And yes. Father and I linked up. Indeed, he came back with me."

"...what?" Felix said, eyes widening. "Father is...?"

"The High King is here?" Lou said, jaw dropping in surprise.

Even Dorian shifted in his seat, one eye popping open as he brushed fingers through his hair. "Really?" he said, a lilt in his voice. He looked at the ceiling. "Why wasn't there a huge ceremony, marking his arrival? We definitely would have heard, if not been dragged off to attend."

"There isn't time," Ernest said, shaking his head. "Even now, Father is in talks with Albert and several of the Dukes."

"Can't be about the party, can it?" Dorian said, scratching his scalp. "This house doesn't cancel rituals just for that. It's still months away."

"...Ernest," Lou asked, frowning gravely. "Is this it? Did you and your father get word from the galactic east? Do we know what's been happening behind those Warp storms all these years?"

A pall of disquiet fell over the gallery. Outside the windows, horizon swallowed the sun, bit by bit. A grid of illumination cast by window panes climbed the wall of paintings. Cast the faces of their ancestors in gloom.

Ernest nodded gravely, shadows enveloping his face. "Yes, to both. It's bad."

"..." Felix swallowed, pressing a fist to his chest. The bundle of roses clenched in his other hand. "...how bad? What's going on?"

The dour pilot looked each of them in the eyes, then settled on his younger brother.

"The Warmaster is attempting a coup against the Emperor. The Imperium of Man is at war."

---

"A ball?"

Faces underlit by green light. Metal skulls floated above. Below, beyond the railing, bridge crew milled about. Ahead, banks of screens combined to form a single view. Mountains of junk and derelicts, set against an infinite sea of stars.

The ADLR unit, formerly known simply as 'Adler', coughed into his fist, and held up a dataslate.

"The 'Grande Ball at Fadehome'," said Anders, scrolling down the file. "This is what the invitation on file said. It even has a high resolution image of the handwritten invitation from House St. Blaise, to its far-flung Knights." He turned his dataslate around, showing off the pict-capture.

"So...a party?" Dash said, crossing her arms. "To and for...whom?"

"To the constituent members of the 'League of Gal-Galon', it seems," Anders said, from memory. Lowered the dataslate.

"A local consortium of Knight Houses, I would hazard to guess," Diodana said, steepling metal fingers. Four photo-receptors glowed bright in the gloom of the Duarch tactical deck. "Not uncommon among their kind, I'm told. Regional affairs, drawing in representatives from surrounding Sectors. Often on the estates of some prominant House, rotating between them, or on sites of particular collaborative victories."

"Makes sense, I guess," Ishtar said, shrugging. She sat back slightly, holding her balance on the railing with one arm. "A bunch of warriors from different clans win a battle, throw a feast, and have such a great time they turn it into a tradition."

"Precisely," Diodana nodded. "Even over a period as relatively brief as the Great Crusade, ample opportunities occurred for Knights of many Houses to forge bonds of fraternity. Fraternity reinforced by periodic 'get-togethers'. A practice encouraged by the Mechanicum, at the very least, and likely the Imperium as well."

"Less likely for pilots to start butting heads, if they're occasionally forced to sit together and play nice," Natasha said, waving a hand. She crossed her arms, smiling knowingly. Or...to spy on one another...

"Something to share with the class?" Circe whispered, looking up at her daughter.

"...uh..." Natasha smiled nervously, composing herself. "Well..."

Step. Step. Step.

"I mean, a party is nice and all...," Vanessa said, wheeling a cart laden with tea and pastries. She handed a mug to Elster. "Here."

"Thank you, sweetie," Elster nodded, holding the mug up and inhaling. She put it down, and took a scone.

"...but...the Imperium is in the middle of a civil war," the Eule continued, frowning. "Should they really be attending a ball at a time like this?"

"Seems like a stupid idea, yeah," Ishtar said, getting up and walking over to take a mug. "Waste of time, too."

"Or a trap," Dash said. She tapped her facemask pensively. "Would anyone fall into it under these circumstances?"

"They would...if they didn't know there was a war," Circe said, tapping the bottom of her staff on the floor.

The group fell silent. Looked between each other.

Then, down to the galactic map before them. Its many stars blinked, a periodic flash of digital artifacts where the corner of the screen cracked during the tumult of the Duarch's Geller Field failure.

Elster chewed, swallowed. Looked to the Kolibri. "You think word hasn't filtered out to this side of the Ruinstorm yet?"

"Yes," Circe nodded. "Or, if it has, very slowly."

"Not surprising," Diodana said, cocking her head to the side. "The galaxy takes a great deal of time to traverse, at the best of times. Months. Years, even. And these..." The tech adept sighed. "By the Omnissiah, these are not the best of times. The Ruinstorm..."

"What's that?"

The group turned, watching another group of arrivals.

Tulip and Daisy strode forward, their oxide-red robes turned brown in the green light. Beside Daisy, a gestalt woman looked around curiously.

"...and...who might this be?" Natasha said, inclining her head forward.

"Oh, right," Daisy said, eyes lighting up. She gestured to her left. "This is E. She can't remember any other name. She's my...uh..."

"Assistant?" Tulip said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nice to meet you!" E said, waving a replika right hand over her head. Her frame, only slightly more filled out since switching to real food, clothed in an eggshell white jumpsuit. A pink shawl wrapped around her neck. She smiled, cocking her head to the side. Then hastily adjusted her short wig of white hair. "Ah!"

"I'm glad you're feeling better, E," Circe said, smiling.

"Thank YOU for spotting me!" E said, smiling at the diminutive replika. "I..."

"Oh," Diodana said, cocking her head to the side. "You are...one of the servitors Daisy...'liberated', is that right?"

E froze. Stared at the tech adept. Expression fell, eyes averted. "..."

"Is that a problem, teacher?" Daisy said, furrowing her brow.

"No no, I'm...glad," Diodana said, unconvincingly. Turned away, holding up a metal hand. "Really."

Her eldest replika student narrowed her eyes. Sidestepped in front of the gestalt. "..."

"...Daisy, while I'd love to get to know your friend better," Elster said, privately glad Daisy had ANY new friends, "we're...kind of in the middle of something."

"Hmm?" E said, looking around the room.

"Something...?" Daisy said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Of...a sensitive nature," Anders said, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh! Right!" E said, smiling nervously. She shrank in on herself. "Important business! I...I'm not cleared for this, am I?"

Daisy opened her mouth. Closed it. Inclined her head toward the gestalt. "I'm sorry, E. Can you wait for me back at the lab?"

"Of course!" E said, nodding. Fists clenched against her chest.

"Here," Vanessa said, frowning. She walked over, handing the gestalt a pastry. "For the road, as it were."

"O-oh!" the gestalt said, eyes lighting up. She took the amalgam of sweet bread and strawberry glaze reverently. "Thank you!" She took a bite, and shivered, smiling. Rubbed her cheek, blushing. "Sho hweet! Mmm!"

When the former servitor finally departed, the group collectively sighed.

The Kranich stroked her chin. "Daisy," Natasha said, smiling awkwardly, "remind me to schedule an appointment for your...friend. Alright?"

"I...oh," Daisy said, nodding seriously. She looked over her shoulder at the retreating figure. "Okay. Sure. I understand."

"..." Elster looked between Ara and gestalt, then sighed. Compartmentalized. "Right. Where...were we?"

"The Ruinstorm?" Dash said, turning to her mother.

"Yes," Circe nodded. "It's very possible, much like those on Caliban, the majority of people living on the galactic west have no idea what's happening inside the Ruinstorm. Which is predominantly where Horus and the Loyalists are fighting."

"This 'Ruinstorm'...it's that bad?" Natasha said, frowning.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Dash sighed. Crossed her arms and closed her eyes. "And I'm not bioresonant, so I didn't have to hear it in my mind all the time. I remember Hip telling me what a handful it was, nursing the 'libris. No offense, Circe."

"No, it's the truth," Circe said. She turned to the Kranich. "This is why getting your meditation chamber built is so important. I could hardly think for days, going through the storm, without being inside one."

"I...see..." Natasha said, shrinking down.

"Warp Storms make interstellar travel hazardous in the extreme," Diodana said, metal finger tapping the table in front of her. Cast a glance out the forward viewscreens. "Many of the derelicts outside these very walls were likely ensnared by such squalls, and set adrift on the ethereal tides until marooned here."

"Don't the storms also swallow astral-telepathy?" Vanessa said, setting a mug of tea in front of the Kolibri.

"Correct," Circe nodded, raising a hand to choose a pastry from the cart. "Communication across stars being telepathy-based, those in or 'behind' the Ruinstorm are cut off from everyone else." She held up a bearclaw, frowning. "Unless, of course, they get either very lucky...or have outside help."

"...?" Natasha furrowed her brow.

"From daemons, she means," Dash said, looking at the Kranich.

"Ah...I suppose that makes sense," Natasha said, nodding. She took the mug offered her. "Th-thank you...does...that mean you all...?"

"Yes," Elster nodded. "We couldn't get this far, without the help of the Dark Artificer, by way of Mik'hul." She tested the temperature of the tea in her mug. Shook her head. "Horus's forces navigate and communicate much more easily than the Loyalists. If anyone on this side of the Ruinstorm has a real idea of what's happening...it's those sworn to the Warmaster."

"So at least for now...those in Segmentum Pacificus, and the west edges of Segmentums Solar and Tempestus," Anders said, pointing to the map, "might as well still be living in the Great Crusade."

"Albeit cut off from their Emperor," Diodana said. "If nothing else, the Grande Ball on Fadehome is likely to occur, simply because of the immense logistics effort each of the Houses go through to attend. Efforts put in motion months, if not years, in advance." The tech adept held up a hand and shook her head, as the Eule passed by. "No thank you. I'm need no refreshment."

Vanessa nodded, rolling on.

"I suppose many Knight Houses within this 'League of Gal-Galon' will have ships flying there as we speak," Natasha mused, eyes downcast to study the map. "If for no other reason than because they HAD to get moving this early to reach it on time."

"So whether the party's still on or not," Ishtar said, sniffing her tea, "a whole bunch of them will be winding up on Fadehome's doorstep."

Tulip raised her hand. "Question."

"Yes, sweetie?" Elster said, turning her head.

"This may seem like a dumb question to ask," the Ara said, expression unreadable, "but..is a party by a bunch of giant robot pilots actually relevant to us?"

"That's...not a dumb question, Tulip, no," Elster said, nodding.

The others paused, nodding.

"Like, again, a party sounds cool," Vanessa said, holding a mug up to Dash. "But...well..."

"What does it have to do with us, you mean?" Ishtar said. "Good question. Adler, or whoever you are now, what's this meeting about?"

"Anders," the ADLR said curtly, nodding. He met his mother's eyes, who nodded in return. "The commander and I discussed the matter. And two points came up." He tapped buttons on the table.

Boxes appeared on the table, showing images taken from files, and photos taken on-site by the replikas themselves. Images of blue-painted Knight frames in various states of disrepair.

"First, we are presently sitting on a small, but Diodana assures me repairable, supply of war machines," Anders said. He gestured to the images. "War machines of great vintage, and greater destructive power."

"Machines that, importantly, we can't use ourselves," Elster added, gesturing at the images with her own hand. "Holy artifacts of the Machine God though they may be, they're of no use to us if we can't get them working."

"Fadehome..." Vanessa muttered. Her eyes lit up. "Oh! These Knight suits come from the same world as the people setting up the party!"

"Precisely, EULR-N0601," Diodana nodded. "While the Knight suits are ours by right of salvage, they represent both a practical, financial, and emotional investment to House St. Blaise. And their deceased 'organic components', I suppose. They will want their pilots back, as well."

"A bargaining chip?" Daisy said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Ransom material, perhaps," Tulip added, holding up a finger and turning to her sister.

"It's a profitable line worth investigating, at least," Elster nodded.

The Kranich clapped her hands together. "All well and good, yes," Natasha said. She turned her head to the administrator. "Anders, I think I've guessed your second point."

"Oh?" Anders said, clasping hands behind his back. "Do tell."

"Not only do we have potentially valuable assets to trade," Natasha said, the ends of her lips curling up, "this 'party' also gives us an opportunity unto itself." She pointed to the map. "A potentially large number of highly militarized, quasi-independent states, sending representatives...and spies...all in one place."

Anders permitted himself a grin. "Sharp as always, comrade."

"Are we thinking...attacking them?" Dash said, cocking an eyebrow. "A decapitation strike?"

Natasha smiled nervously, closing her eyes. "I...assume nothing so dramatic! Right?"

"No, nothing like that," Elster shook her head. "We're thinking more...networking."

"Oh." Dash scratched her head. "..."

"You, my commander," Natasha said, pointing a finger at the Mother of Machines, "are more sly than I gave you credit for."

"Thank you?" Elster said, looking at the Spy quizzically. Frowned. "Don't give me too much credit, though. It...was mostly Anders's idea."

"My gestalt was a part of the Eusan Nation's revolutionary government, once upon a time," Anders said, shaking his head and smiling. "I count myself as being...adept at advising, especially from an organizational and political standpoint."

"So...what's the plan?" Ishtar said, running fingers through her red hair.

"Still working on that," Elster said, crossing her arms. "This is very much new territory for me. Hence..." She gestured around at the assembled group. "...the meeting."

"High upsides, but a great deal of data we're missing," Natasha said, leaning over to stare at the map. "Ideally, we'd try to finagle our way into that party as guests."

"That...might be fun," Vanessa said, color rushing to her face. She stroked her cheek. "Mingle, meet new people...ooh, we could wear dresses!" She turned to the Storch. "How about it, Ish? A chance to show off in your red outfit?"

The Storch blushed. Averted her eyes. "M-me? At a p-p-party!?" She turned sideways, crossing her arms. "I can't do that!"

"But what if Breach is there?" Vanessa said, smiling. "There'll probably be dancing! Don't you want to look good for her? To dance with her?"

Taking a sharp breath, Ishtar froze. Clapped hands to her cheeks, beet red. "...oh..."

Behind her mask, Dash smiled. But said nothing, for the Storch's sake.

"Can we even get into a party like that?" Daisy said, cocking her head to the side.

"Seems pretty exclusive," Tulip said, crossing her arms and staring at her hooves. "Hmm...perhaps with the return of the dead pilots and/or Knight suits?"

"It would certainly earn the goodwill of St. Blaise's sacristans," Diodana said, holding up a metal finger. "From what I understand, the holy maintenancers of the Knight machines are a nominally neutral, but politically powerful, part of any Knight household. They could 'grease the gears', as it were."

"I suppose we can make it part of the offer," Elster said, shrugging. "If they don't go for it, we can give a second offer of just...resources, I guess? Or an alliance of some kind. Having a House on our side would be useful longterm."

"Hrmm..." Natasha grumbled, standing up and stroking her chin. "I don't know. A regular alliance with one House is one thing. But getting entrance to such a prestigious event? During the whispers of Civil War, when everyone is on guard for spies?" She frowned. "And these are feudal lords. Hereditary, titled nobility, albeit filtered through the auspices of piloted combat via death-machine. I'm not certain we, who are commoners and foreigners all, with no credentials or even acceptance in the Imperium, could gain admittance." She crossed her arms. "For Founders' sakes, we aren't Knights."

Ishtar blinked, turning back to the table, face still red. "Uh...Elster is."

Natasha's face went blank. She looked to the Storch. "What?"

"Oh yeah..." Vanessa said, crossing her arms and nodding.

"Hah!" Dash chuckled, shaking her head.

"What's so funny?" Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. Blinking, she looked to the head of the table. Eyed her commander. "What do they mean? YOU are a Knight?"

A bit of color rushed to the replika commander's cheek. Face dropped. She rubbed the back of her head, and met the Kranich's gaze. "Uh...yeah. I...have a Knighthood. On Caliban, I'm known as Dame Elster..."

The Kranich blinked. "...wat. H-how did that happen?"

Elster sighed, picking up her mug of tea. Raised it to her lips, an embarrassed frown on her face.

"It's...a long story."

Notes:

The number of names being thrown around is getting dense, I know. There IS a purpose to so many named nobles. For those having trouble keeping track of the family tree:

Parents:
High King Chretian
(Knight Castellan, "Dawnbreak")

King Consort Faustine (KIA)
(Knight Lancer, "Clair de Lune")

Sons (in order of birth):
1. Albert (Knight Paladin, "Lame Blanche")

2. Brice (Knight Gallant, "Blinding Strike")

3. Christophe (Knight Crusader, "Bright Arrow")

4. Dorian the Beautiful (Knight Errant, "Coup de Grace")

5. Ernest the Black Cloud (Knight Defender, "Lunegard")

6. Felix (Knight Acheron, "Dolorous Duty")

Chapter 121: Party Prep

"What IS the Ruinstorm, though?"

Screwdriver removed. Stool squeaked. An unreadable expression, cast over the shoulder.

The Ara leaned back. Projected a mental impulse. The command traveled invisibly through the air, centered on the space at the heart of the machine. She felt herself resonate through the crystal installed in its chest, just beneath the dome that crested the automaton.

The Castellax's arm pivoted. Raised its metal hand, and closed metal claw once, twice.

"...a Warp storm," Daisy sighed, nodding. Allowed the automaton to lower its arm. The Ara patted the machine's metal chest affectionately. "One so large, and so persistent, it's difficult for anyone to navigate."

"Oh. Okay," said E, sat cross-legged on her own stool. Eyes traveled up, studying the robot. "...that's...when going through the other dimension..." She narrowed her eyes, voice lilting questioningly. "...is 'turbulent'?"

"That's correct," Daisy nodded, mechadendrites picking up and putting away tools one by one. She crossed her arms, looked down at the metal workshop floor. "...your original...controllers...didn't tell you any of this, I imagine."

"Why would they?" the gestalt breathed, eyes looking down. She shrank in on herself, frowning. Cast furtive glances at the Ara. "...Daisy?"

"Yes?" Daisy said, looking up. Cocked her head to the side. "Is something the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no! You're fine!" E said, holding her hands up and smiling. She slumped back down. Frowned again. "...I just wanted to ask...uh..." Eyes turned up to meet the replika's. "...what's your...opinion about the Mech-an-nicum?"

Daisy frowned. "You want to know?"

"If it's not treading on sensitive ground, anyway," E said, holding a hand up plaintively. The hand faltered. "I just...want to know where you stand, with...uh..."

"With the ones who enslaved you," Daisy finished.

"..." The gestalt blinked, puffed her cheeks, then nodded quietly.

Leaning back against the worktable behind her, the Ara stared at the ceiling. "Well. I believe in the Machine God. Or, at least, I want to believe there is one..."

If for no other reason than to counter the Machine Devil, Daisy thought, narrowing her eyes.

"Yeah?" E said, face rising curiously.

"I know the rituals work, or at least make maintenance and troubleshooting more reliable," Daisy said, inclining her head forward pensively. "At least the work more advanced than our native Eusan technology. I tried doing without the chanting and incense and robes. Imperial tech just...doesn't want to cooperate as much as when I do the song and dance. I don't know if this works by assuaging angry 'Machine Spirits'...or if those spirits are actually primitive AI, and I'm activating buried programmatic commands." She looked at the gestalt directly. "Don't tell anyone I entertained the idea Machine Spirits are AI. I've tried discussing it before with Diodana, and she won't have any of it."

"Don't worry!" E breathed, holding her hands up, smiling. "Your secret's safe with me."

The Ara forced a smile. Looked back down. "...I appreciate all that Diodana's done for me," Daisy said, soberly. "Teaching me how to maintain High Technology. Initiating me into the Martian Mysteries. Patiently teaching me her languages, even as I taught her how to speak Eusan..."

"Wait," E said, furrowing her brow. "I thought I heard someone say you replikas are 'made' with language models pre-installed?"

"Most are," Daisy said, forcing another smile. "I was Elster's first. She hadn't realized she could implant languages, as well as neural patterns. So when I activated, all I knew were the languages my gestalt knew in life. Everything else, I had to learn..."

"Really?" the gestalt breathed, eyes widening. "Was it hard?"

"Tedious, at first," Daisy shrugged. "I had to rely on Tulip and Poppy, just to understand Diodana." She opened her mouth quickly, thinking to explain who Poppy was and why she was absent. Then closed it, thinking better of the digression. Forced another smile. "Since then...I kind of like learning new languages. Whenever I work with new initiates, I like to trade my knowledge for vocabulary, or to practice more esoteric languages they come equipped with." She looked up at the ceiling, contemplative. "It's...like a joy I get all to myself. The joy of learning something I don't already know."

"..." Eyebrows rising, the gestalt wrung her hands together. Smiled, color rushing to her face. "I...could teach you my language, if you want? Terran isn't my native tongue, after all..."

Color rushed to the Ara's face in turn. She averted her eyes, and cracked a genuine smile. "I'd...like that..."

They sat in silence a moment.

"..." E frowned again. "...Daisy...what do you think of the Mechnicum as a whole?"

"..." Daisy looked around. Eyes darted toward the door, or to blind corners. "...just between us?"

"Just between us," the gestalt nodded, seriously.

The Ara quickly shot off a message to a certain Bat. "[And if you're listening, between us too, okay?]"

Somewhere in a vent above, a sudden shuffle.

"[Yeah]," Marceline responded, after a second. "[My lips are sealed.]"

"[Good]," Daisy nodded silently. She inclined her head up fractionally. "I understand...why the people of Mars developed the way they did, during the Age of Strife. Really, I do. And the search for knowledge? The preservation of machines? Those are axiomatic goods, I think. I won't dispute that."

E nodded, swallowing. Waiting. "..."

"...but...as an Ara..." Daisy said, scowling. "...I am not...'wired'...to blindly accept the restrictions the Cult Mechanicus place, simply because they're dogma. Conservatism. Prohibition against invention. Obsession solely with uncovering lost technology. Bans on research on xenos or bioresonant technology." She clenched her fist. "Servitorization."

The gestalt pressed her hand to her chest. "You don't...like that the Mechanicum makes servitors? You won't...?"

"I will never let them enslave you again, E," Daisy seethed, leaning forward. She held out a hand. "I will never allow you, or anyone else, to suffer what you have. Not on my watch."

Pale, trembling hand took the Ara's artificial one.

"Y-you promise?" E breathed, shaking.

Forceful nod. Color ran to the Ara's face, gaze fixed and resolute.

"I swear."

 

"Now, I know what you're thinking."

Sharp inhalation. Racing heartbeat. Hoof, poised over metal floor, stamping down resolutely.

The newborn wobbled to standing position. Smiled on instinct.

"Oh? What is that?" she said, mind racing. Eyes darted around, counting exits. She steepled her fingers, and cocked her head to the side innocently.

Step. Step.

"You're thinking, 'Where is this place?'" said the older replika, holding a hand up and waving vaguely at the air beside her head. "'Whose side is she - and I - on?'"

The newborn played dumb. "I mean, wanting to know where I am, or to whom I speak, is entirely rational under the circumstances, yes?"

The woman stopped, gesturing to the newborn. "You're also thinking, 'Can I extract the answers I seek from this woman's mind without her noticing?'"

"...!"

The newborn froze. Her blood - no, oxidizing fluid, she reminded herself - ran cold. Eyes widened so fractionally, only one who knew where to look would recognize the reaction. A bead of sweat ran down her brow.

Shit, fuck, shit, SHIT!, the newborn thought, mind racing. Who is...?

"Now you're thinking, 'Who is this woman?'" The elder replika stooped, picking up a large, rectangular object left beside the nearby work table.

"..." The newborn shivered. Threw up her mental defenses by instinct. Eyes darted around more overtly now. Playing dumb suddenly ineffective. "...how...?"

She froze, as the woman held up the object beside her head.

"I don't know what you're thinking because I'm using bioresonance..." Natasha said, smiling.

Beside her head, the newborn Kranich's reflection widened her eyes in surprise. Their three, inverted stars identical, along with their every other feature, save hair. Auburn, instead of black.

"I know, because we share the same neural pattern. Welcome back to the game, comrade."

 

"Empress, I wish we had a second walk-in fridge for shit like this. Yuck."

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The power-armored replika turned her whole torso back and forth. Behind her visor, frowned. Finally, she sighed, and stacked one body bag onto another.

"I mean the 'gene-sperm' or whatever was one thing," Meryl said, scratching her head. She stepped aside, allowing the giant to stoop and turn sideways through the door. "That stuff didn't take much room. We could have stuffed them in a smaller fridge, if we needed to. But these..."

Jenny stooped at the cart again, and took up another rigid body. She paused before the Eule, raising her face shield. Smiled warmly. "At least you won't need to see them. Take comfort in that."

"I guess," Meryl shrugged, watching the giant squeeze back inside the walk-in freezer.

"Are you sure you want to accompany them on the voyage?" Jenny called back, as she navigated to the growing pile. "After...you know?"

"I'll be fine," Meryl nodded, hugging herself against the chill. Smiled, as the Mynah came back. "It's only a couple months, assuming nothing happens. We warded the hell out of the ship, so we'll be as safe as a person can be in the event of another Geller field failure." She grinned wickedly. "And Kite will be there. I need to keep her safe."

"Oof!" Jenny said, squeezing through the opening. "I suppose."

"Plus," Meryl said, wagging her finger, "Nat's going along. So I don't even need to pause our sessions."

 

"You agree this sounds like a cult, right?"

The elevator rumbled. Hands fiddled with clipboard. Mechanical pencil clicked, note taken.

"Believe me, I had exactly the same reaction when they told me," Natasha said, eyes locked on the page. "If it makes you feel any better, the situation seems more...cult-shaped than intentional indoctrination."

"Elaborate?" KNCR-D0101 said, narrowing her eyes. She tugged at the neck of the eggshell white jumpsuit she wore. Sniffed, nose wrinkled, afraid what smell she expected.

"The conditions of this 'community' were shaped by happenstance and the Nation's selection bias when it comes to neural patterns," Natasha said, waving her hand dismissively. "Believe me, it's all real, as are their lived experiences."

"Can we really be expected to believe in daemons?" the newborn said, turned sideways to address her 'sister' directly. "We're rationalists, aren't we?"

Ding.

The elevator door opened. The newborn shrank back in disquiet, eyes locked ahead.

"Unfortunately," Natasha sighed, putting on a professional smile, with the slightest hint of sympathy for her poor compatriot, "I'm afraid we woke up to a fundamentally irrational galaxy. Apologies."

The two strode out into the elevator junction. Its ceilings lower than the corridors adjoining it, but still casually taller than most atriums in a Eusan Nation public building. Scant gestalt menials milled about, casting wary glances at the new arrivals. Servitors, of course, remained slaved to their tasks.

Opposite the elevator door, a many-eyed skull stared down at them from on high. Its warped and twisted skeleton - bearing a certain family resemblance to humanity - embedded in the wall. Intertwined with it. As if the wall, like the trunk of a tree, started to grow around the unfortunate victim's remains. A grotesque, cruciform monument to elemental change.

"H-how?" the younger Kranich muttered, shivering. She jumped to keep pace with her elder. Eyes darted up at the mutated cadaver again. "This doesn't make sense..."

"It shouldn't," Natasha said, raising a finger. She cast a glance at the skeleton, then ushered them on. "The Warp, as elucidated in your briefing, operates on different natural laws. Even if the hostile thought-form organisms dwelling there didn't effect heinous changes on the occupants of this 'Corvette', the very physics of the space would. This is why the Geller Field is so important. If it's not functioning, well..."

As they crossed into a corridor, Natasha sighed and waved at the panoply of scratches and discolorations on the walls. "This happens."

Eyes darting around, drinking in the physical evidence of unnatural forces at play, the younger Kranich jumped. Shivered. Looked sharply over her shoulder. "Ah! Wh-what was that? Did you hear it?"

Her elder paused. Turned around. Placed her hand gently on the newborn's shoulder.

Yes, I heard it, Natasha thought, linking with her 'sister's' mind. Narrowed her eyes, glanced around. The screams? The little girl's laughter?

Eyes dilating, the younger Kranich swallowed, switching to the 'private channel'. Yes. Why are we-?

For now, thought her elder, nodding soberly, pretend they aren't there. Neither you, nor I, are prepared to deal with ghosts yet. Until such a time, remember our gestalt's adage: Do Not Acknowlege the Dead. Or They'll Never Stop Hounding You.

Heart racing, the younger Kranich nodded. Flinched, as she heard whispering behind her. "..."

Natasha turned around, beckoning them forward. Unfortunately, our mutual 'mother' hasn't had time to placate the ghosts in this place, as she did on the Duarch.

"Now come along," she said, aloud. Waved without looking. "We're almost there."

"...what...?" the younger Kranich swallowed, jogging to keep up. "Why are we here, then?"

They turned a corner, stopping.

A line of Servitors, diverted from their duties, stood in two rows. Their numbers disappearing off into the long corridor. Their eyes, where they still had them, blank and dead.

"I'll take the left," Natasha said, stretching her arms. Hefted her clipboard. "You take the right."

"...what are we doing?" the newborn said, staring at the dead-eyed, mangled cyborgs.

Her elder stepped to the front of the line, and met the first servitor's gaze. Projected her mind. Probed.

"While we're not accredited psychiatrists, I'm fairly sure it's like being a physician. Which is to say, it's bad form to attend to one patient's long-term care, while another patient is screaming."

 

"A company name?"

Bodies crowded around a wooden desk. Sketches, open books, and magazines covered its surface. Warm glow of an incandescent lamp.

The Chief Administrator gestured with his hand.

"I consulted with Natasha," Anders said, leaned over the desk, "and with my...brothers..."

"You talked with them?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow. She smiled. "Getting along?"

"Albrecht, Alwin, and I consulted by memo," Anders said, narrowing his eyes. "All of us agree on this point: that our mercenary company needs a public-facing identity."

"We've muddled through so far," Elster said, scratching her scalp. "Remaining anonymous keeps us safe."

"We haven't really remained anonymous, though," Vanessa said, crossing her arms. "How many different movers and shakers in this war, as well as random people, have we met? The Dark Angels on Caliban knighted you. You conversed with the Iron Warriors Primarch. We have ties to the Thousand Sons, whom the Imperium tried to eradicate. That 'Anton Weir' Blackshield you keep running into, apparently..."

"Don't forget that guy from Xana," Sally said, raising an index finger. "What was his name? Scorpion?"

"Anacharis Scoria..." Elster mumbled, looking down soberly. "...we haven't been that discreet, have we?"

"Like it not, we're hardly unheard of," Anders said, standing up to full height. "If we're going to be attending high society balls and networking with Knight Houses, we need a name we can give them. Preferably something that, yes, keeps our associations with Eusan hidden, but can be used by our allies to recognize us."

"Can't just keep giving out your name to everyone and calling it a day," Sally sighed.

"Presenting herself as Dame Elster, Knight of Caliban, is unavoidable, in this context," Anders said, clasping hands behind his back. "We don't want the way to Caliban to be cleared, and NOT have her identity independently verifiable."

"Right, right," Elster said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Thumb traced the scar between her eyes. "I'll...think about it."

"And while we're on the subject of identity," Vanessa said, gesturing with a wave of her hand at the materials piled on the desk. "Our uniforms."

"I thought this was about what we're wearing to the ball?" Elster said, leaning over the desk. She picked up a book. A guide on military uniforms from throughout the Imperium. "Doesn't wearing gray in combat, or camouflage, more convenient?"

"If you're trying to be anonymous, yeah," Vanessa nodded. She smirked. "As we've established, we're asserting ourselves in regional politics. We no longer have the luxury of going fully hidden anymore. These rich assholes are going to be difficult enough to impress when you're not a 'real' Knight, sans mech you can pilot, without also looking like a random space pirate."

"Proper outfits would make us look like a, well, proper outfit," Sally shrugged.

"And Revolutionary knows, this 'outfit' could use some discipline," Anders muttered, looking away.

"...fair points," Elster sighed. Stood up straight, flipping through the book. "...do we know what the Knights of this region consider 'normal' style of uniform?"

"That...we're still researching," Vanessa said, flipping through a stack of sketches. "I've tried to sift through the materials left over on the Humility of Fadehome. It's just...a lot of stuff. Much of it damaged. And I don't have a big research team."

"Brief aside," Anders said, stroking his chin, "are we settled on renaming the Corvette to the Triarch?"

"That...was basically my assumption, yes," Elster nodded, eyes on the book. "It needs to be repainted, and the surviving crew bolstered by our people. Which...requires another increase in replika production..."

"...which also requires more food production to feed," Vanessa said, frowning. "Hydroponics setups, farming schedules. Luckily, there's no shortage of ships in the vicinity we can scavenge for rations..."

"Don't forget more transports," Sally said, rubbing her eye. "Getting all these materials, supplies, and personnel around...ugh, and coordinating them all. Traffic between the ships has been a nightmare lately. We need 'air' traffic controllers."

"And more pilots," Anders groaned, shutting his eyes.

The four sighed, shrinking in on themselves.

"...alright, new plan," Anders said, rubbing his brow and scowling. "I will draft a scheme to reorganize our entire enterprise along bureaucratic lines. Departments, paperwork, clerks, teams of assistants. Officers for organizing scavenging parties, coordinators, liasons with our...tech-priesthood..." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Agreed," Elster groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Do that. You have my blessing to turn this into a proper...country, I guess? Army?"

"Will we have time for this, before we leave to meet with House St. Blaise?" Vanessa said, turning to Anders.

"We have enough on our plate just getting ready for the trip," Sally said, cocking an eyebrow.

"By no means, do we have the time to implement the reorganization, no," the Chief Administrator said. He stood up straight, inclining his head back. "Ad hoc measures will need to be taken, and my...siblings given a measure of autonomy, in my absence. I'll be able to devise a solution en route."

"..." Elster opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked down at the desk. Up at her son. "Anders, I think your talents might best be spent here in-system. Coordinating the changes, and getting everyone in line."

"Who will run the Nomarch while you're on this...escapade?" Anders said, frowning.

"Albrecht or Alwin, probably," Elster shrugged. "Or...we can make a fourth ADLR unit. It'll be easier for them to adapt to administering the smaller vessel."

"But this my..." Anders clapped his mouth shut. Turned away, eyes closed. Inhaled. Exhaled. "Very well. I have been composing a comprehensive document about managing the Nomarch. I can refine it, and make it available to my...new 'brother', as required."

"Thank you, Anders," Elster nodded, smiling. "I know the Nomarch means a lot to you."

"Just make sure my understudy doesn't do some damn fool thing that gets it destroyed," Anders grumbled, crossing his arms. Looked around his office. "Or worse...redecorates."

Sally smothered a chuckle behind her hand.

"So...back at the task at hand," Vanessa said, rearranging sketches. Pointed to color swatches. "Mom...what are we thinking for uniform color? For the sake of building a 'brand', they'll be the same for both our ball gowns and the military uniforms."

"Many of those Knight pilots will probably come to the gathering wearing uniforms," Sally said, squatting and propping her cheek up on the desk with her arm. "Or at least dress versions thereof."

"..." Elster stroked her chin, eyes wandering. "...Ishtar is going in that red dress, right?"

"She's had her heart set on it, ever since we made it for her," Vanessa nodded.

"And she asked Breach to go steady while wearing it," Sally added, twirling her thin side-braid around her finger. "We were going to have a party of our own, so everyone could show off...before this whole Knight business started."

"Then one color will need to be red," Elster said. She looked down at her body. Finger pulled the hem of her oil-stained navy blue jumpsuit, so she could look at her red chestplate. "..."

"...you're thinking red and black, aren't you, mom?" Vanessa said, narrowing her eyes. "Wanna add white, and/or ochre? Just go full Nation colors?"

"..." Elster furrowed her brow, looking away. "...I never said I was particularly creative."

"Dash will have a fucking fit," Vanessa sighed, crossing her arms. "After so many years telling her she couldn't emulate the Nation?"

"Is that safe?" Sally said, standing up. She stretched her arms over her head. "Ngh...we won't get discovered, right? A bunch of replikas walking around, on their nubby hooves, wearing Eusan Nation colors?"

"The galaxy is a large place," Anders said, clasping hands behind his back. "It's not like red, black, white, and yellow are a unique color combination. Half the Astartes Legions wear those colors, singly or in combination."

Elster pressed a finger to her lips pensively. "...it would reinforce the connection to the Dark Angels, and therefore Caliban. Frankly, I might need to wear red, black, and white."

Her eyebrows rose.

"...and I suppose it would be a good time to wear that."

 

"Come back to me, you hear!"

The Star hugged the Eule close. Buried her face in her hair.

"I will," Dash said, patting Samantha on the back. "I promise."

They separated, taking one last lingering moment to hold hands and look in each other's eyes.

"Don't let anything happen to mom, okay?" Double Tap said, patting her elder sister on the back.

"Hmm," Dash nodded, touching Double Tap's hand. "Don't let anything happen to the others while I'm gone. Especially Sam."

"I won't," Double Tap said, smiling.

Nearby, diminutive replikas embraced.

"You sure you want to head back into the storm?" Hecate said, hood tenting over her nubby horns. She smiled. "Without me, anyway? I might be useful against more daemons."

"You needed help the last time," Nimue said, combing fingers through her blond hair. She smiled. "Plus, Shah and I aren't going alone. We'll have the 'silver bullet'."

The two looked across the room. A shiver ran up their spines.

"Look, pipsqueak," Artemis said, frowning. One arm resting on the Eule's shoulder. "Do your job. Don't let anything weird and chaotic get the others. Okay?"

"I knooooow why I exist, Art," Marceline whined, pinkie finger digging into her ear. She brushed it off on her jumpsuit. "I'll keep them safe. Don't worry."

"G-good," Maria said, smiling uneasily behind the Storch's legs. She looked up at the Storch. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh, right," Artemis said, nodding. She walked over to a storage crate, and carried over a faded, cracked leather carrying case. Placed it on the ground. "Got a present for you."

"Eh?" Marceline said, brows rising unseen behind a curtain of hair. She squatted, unlatching. Her mouth gaped. "Wha-? It's...!"

"Found it in another derelict ship, along with a bunch of similar crap," Artemis said, crossing her arms. Squatting eye-level with the Fledermaus, the Storch smiled. "Like it?"

The Blank held up her gift reverently. One hand fingered the frets, the other plucked strings. The bass guitar hummed low, off-key. "Whoa..."

She flashed a wide, fanged grin. Threw her arms around the Storch. "Love it!"

"Ack!" Artemis flinched, arms up. Skin broke out in phantom goosebumps. Adopting a forced smile, she patted the little creature's oily head. "Ngh...g-glad you like it!"

Maria chuckled nervously.

On the catwalk above, overlooking the whole shuttle bay, bioresonant replikas conversed.

"Make sure Diodana doesn't work the people too hard," Daisy said. "That goes for the servitors, too."

"I make no promises about the servitors," Circe said, leaning on her staff. She frowned. "You know how she is."

"For that matter, make sure my team are on task," Natasha said, rubbing the dark bags under her eyes. "If their paranoia gets to be too much, give them a surveillance assignment. Anything will do, so long as it keeps them busy. I'd prefer to bring them myself, but..."

"I'm sure they'll be plenty busy, Nat," Circe said, patting the Spy's arm affectionately. "Don't worry."

She beckoned with her finger. When the Kranich bent low, the Kolibri spoke in her ear.

"If nothing else, I'll have the dead to keep watch over them," Circe whispered. Cracked a sly smile.

"...you...are very dangerous, Geistermotter," Natasha said, recoiling in both fear and admiration. Gave a nervous smile. "And if anything happens on your end?"

"Hippolyta will come see Shahrazad or Nimue," Circe nodded. "Don't worry."

Pressing an index finger to her lips, the Spy smiled diabolically.

"In retrospect, I don't know what my gestalt was thinking. Ghosts can be very useful."

---

"The Gal-Galon League are doing what?"

Shadows hung heavy in the chamber, collecting in bookcases that lined the walls. Scrolls and dataslate drives piled on the desk, high enough they threatened the ceiling. A staff rested beside the chair.

"Their once-a-decade Grande Ball, my lord," the robed man said, bowing at the waist.

Wrinkled face scowled. Quill set aside in its holder. Chair turned.

"...a million matters of dire import, now of all times," the old man grumbled, clenching a knobby fist, "and these dilettantes are having a party? Are they not aware we're at war?"

"My lord, WE are barely aware," the man said, swallowing, "with all of the resources we have at our disposal. Whereas the League of Gal-Galon are in the west, beyond the storms. If they know at all..."

"Mmmrr..." the old man grumbled, turning back to his desk. "Fair point. Do we have any idea which Houses are liable to turn coat? Have any formally declared?"

"We're still investigating this matter, my lord," the man said, bowing his head. "Our analysts are collating the war records of the participant Houses, and where possible individual pilots, for existing ties to Horus or the other traitors. The going is slow. Should we commit more researchers to-?"

"No," the old man said curtly, shaking his head. He leaned on the desk. "We have enough problems. Too many active fronts." He stroked his chin, pensively. "...the situation in the Belt of Iron?"

"Degrading, my lord," said the man, shoulders slumping. "Data from that quarter is scant, but...well, you well know their history..."

"Unsurprising," the old man said, leaning back in his chair. Traced metal cables running into his neck with his finger. "We've anticipated that war for years. No doubt Horus's treason will be what sets it off, if he hasn't won a few of the Forges over already." He grumbled, shaking his head. "Too much. Too much..."

"What would you have me do, my lord?" the man said, holding his hands palms up.

"..." The old man closed his eyes. Leaned head back.

Old of body, sharp of mind. Milky eyes opened.

"...if the Gal-Galon League are going to helpfully gather all in one place," he said, gnarled hand closing in a fist, "we might as well use it."

"Shall I inform the Temples, sir? Perhaps the Ever-?"

"Not that one," the old man said sharply, holding up a hand. Head turned, eyes peering from under his hood. "No, leaving none alive is not an option. They won't send but a portion of their pilots to attend. That will simply enrage their surviving kin, and the greater portion of their pilots. No, we cannot afford to turn the entire League against Terra."

The old man leaned over his desk again.

"No, we need information. This calls for more...surgical operatives..."

Chapter 122: Fadehome

"[Target Destroyed. One (1) Target Remains.]"

Pixelated explosions filled the screen. Textures shimmered on blocky chunks, as the black, disordered doppel-engine disintegrated in fire.

Lowering the rough simulacrum of a chain-fist, the pilot sighed. Cockpit rocked with every step, as he strode his silent-minded 'steed' across a flat, polygonal landscape. Eyes focused on the horizon, studying the dense fog that, he knew, hid the machine's low draw distance.

Pshew! Pshew!

"Shit!" Felix grunted, trying to dodge, as a pair of flickering lights streamed out from the fog between the silhouettes of two buildings. The cockpit rocked, runes flashing on his strategic overlay to show the depletion of his ion shields. His forward field of view almost glitched out with a cascade of colors.

He dashed forward, twin-linked heavy bolters firing into the gloom. Felix squinted, tactical map giving just as little data as his forward 'cameras'.

Then, a silhouette. One. Two. Three Knight engines strode out of the fog. Two shadowed Questoris suits, and a Dominus.

Phantoms of Gal-Galon. Phantoms of treachery.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Felix muttered, zig-zagging as his shields were pelted by more simulated missiles and solid lines of color. Darting left, he used one of the buildings as cover for his approach. Against their superior shields, his digital-Acheron's bolters and Flame Cannon would do little. Getting into melee with three of them, even with his chain-fist, was certain death.

For now, he needed to mark the targets. Ping them on the map, in the hopes his cogitator-controlled allies could reroute and provide backup...

Wmm. Wmm. Wmm.

"...oh no..." Felix gasped, screeching to a halt. Felt micro-vibrations through the floor of the cockpit, and into his body.

WHHHRRRR!

The tinny, electronic wail of a war-horn pierced the gloom. Another dark silhouette appeared, right in front of him.

Hunched. Vulture-like. Its face broad and flat-nosed, like a bulldog. Its twin arm-mounted weapons trained forward.

It dwarfed even the Cerastus pattern Knight.

Felix blanched, trying to turn around. Who the hell programmed in a-?

Blue light filled the screen, as the simulated Warhound Titan discharged its Plasma Blastgun.

 

"Ha ha! Burnin' the midnight lumen, eh brother? How'd it go?"

The smell of oil, and fresh sweat. Heat from motors and gyros vented to the recirculated air. Sparks, as ship menials and servitors repaired wall panels over long shifts.

Hydraulic pistons raised the top hatch vertical. Boots clanked on steel rungs.

Felix rubbed the bags under his eyes. Leaned heavily on the roof of the pod. "...Brice?"

Beneath a sweat-soaked green tank top, the Second Prince of House Leclair smirked. A cream-colored towel draped across his broad shoulders. Olive skin rippled with toned muscles. Fingers brushed back damp, brown, buzz-cut hair.

"One and only," said Brice, his voice a rich baritone. He watched his brother climb down. "Just getting an early workout in. Same with you?"

Boots impacting the metal floors of the cavernous training hall, Felix turned. Rubbed the back of his neck. "...not...exactly..."

"Ah, so this is you working late, huh?" Brice said, snorting in amusement. He frowned. "You look like shit. How long you've been in the simulator?"

"...uh..." Felix blinked, shaking his head. He leaned one hand on the large pod, wincing at the glare of the lights off the cream sections of the ancient machine's paint job. "...what time is it?"

"That would be, from my last check..." Brice said, eyes darting up to the ceiling, as he stretched his neck sideways until it audibly popped. "...ngh...about...0400 hours. Give or take a few minutes."

"Oh," Felix said, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, "Haah...whoops."

"Couldn't sleep?" Brice said, shrugging. He grinned, flashing pearly whites. "You should spend some time at the gym. A few minutes of lifting or on the treadmill, and you'll drop into your bunk like a stone. And your muscles could use the workout."

"...'ll...take that under...advisement," Felix yawned again, covering his mouth. He frowned. Glanced up at his brother. "..."

"...worried about the Ball?" Brice said, adjusting the towel across his shoulders with both hands.

"Not really, no," Felix sighed, shoulders sagging.

"Worried about the war?" Brice offered, cocking an eyebrow.

"...yes," Felix breathed. "Figured I needed as much practice as I could get. Are...you?"

"Worried? Naw, not in the slightest," Brice shrugged, looking away with a placid expression. "War is war. You live, you die, it happens. And hey...it's a chance for glory, ain't it?"

"Is it...really so glorious?" Felix frowned. Brushed a lock of blone hair from his eye. "The Emperor and Warmaster, fighting one another? We'll be called upon to fight other Imperials. Other humans."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Brice flashed a quizzical expression toward his brother. It softened. "Sorry. I forget...you've spent most of your career so far fightin' Greenskin remnants in the Cabal System. You get a chance to fight any humans yet?"

"S-some, yeah..." Felix said, averting his eyes. "Cabal rebel holdout tank brigades and gun emplacements, mostly. I...don't know if I could have gone through with it, if Aunt Cléa wasn't feeding orders into my brain."

"Heh...yeah, Cléa's a real hardass," Brice chuckled, glancing at the ceiling. "But that's good. It means you're ready for what comes next."

"I don't...know if I am," Felix said, rubbing his temples. Looked at his brother. "How do I...make war on other Imperials?"

"Well first of all, we ain't Imperials, brother," Brice said, stoically. Inclined his head forward soberly, and raised his index finger. "House Leclair signed a treaty with the Imperium. That's not the same as all those dumbasses that got conquered and drafted into the Emperor's armies. Or even the Legions, who were made to serve. We're independent. We don't take orders from either the Emperor or Horus. They petition, and we answer. Never forget that."

"...right," Felix said, frowning.

"As for how you should, as Albert would say, 'accord yourself'...well..." Brice rubbed his head. Looked his youngest brother up and down. "Just...do as the High King says, protect Emeraldus, protect your kin...don't be a pussy..."

Felix frowned, brows furrowed uneasily. "..."

"...and...most important of all..." Brice clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. Smiled. "Just...remember your honor."

"...I'll...try," Felix said, nodding.

"You will," Brice said, sternly. Squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Or you'll die trying. Or I'll hunt you down and make you pay for embarrassing us. Understood?"

"Uh...y-yeah," Felix said, eyes dilating. He shivered, patting his brother's iron-gripped hand gently.

"Good!" Brice said, flashing a smile. He removed his hand, and turned around.

"...and what about the people I might..." Felix swallowed, pursing his lips. "...have to kill? Even...the ones who were once comrades?"

"So long as you remember your honor, it shouldn't be a problem."

Brice took a few steps away. Stopped. Looked over his shoulder, expression sober.

"Remember, brother. Anyone who chooses to fight you has already accepted the possibility of their death. If you meet anyone on the battlefield - even another member of the League - they knew the risks. Don't disrespect them, by holding back..."

---

Dn. Dn-Dn-Un. Dn.

"...dangit..."

Twist of a tuning knob. Turn of a page. Pick plucked a string. Fingers on frets.

Dn-Dn-Dn. Un-Dn. Dn. Dn.

Behind a curtain of bangs, unseen eyes studied sheet music. The Fledermaus looked down at her instrument, as she carefully practiced her chords. Swore under her breath every few minutes.

Empty music room filled with the halting notes of a bass guitar.

 

"How does it look?"

Arms raised, lowered. Buttons tapped. Torso twisted left, right. Hat adjusted.

The replika commander looked herself in the mirror. Frowned, a nervous bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. Stared at her sleeves, then back at the reflection.

"...I mean it looks good," Elster said, apprehensively. She turned away from the mirror. "I'm just...not used to modeling uniforms."

"I know, mom, just..." Vanessa said, clapping her hands together and pressing them to her lips. Sucked breath, turning her hands forward to point at the mother of machines. "...if you don't like it, we can't very well meet in it for diplomatic relations. Let alone a party." She raised a single finger. "You have to like it, or no one else will."

"Not sure if it works that way," Elster muttered, turning back to the mirror. Finger tugged at the ornate collar, black and red, inlaid with ocher yellow thread. "You're the expert, though. I'm just...unused to both this style, AND having the fanciest outfit."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you look distinguished," Natasha said, walking around the commander with a smile. Held her hands up. "Obviously, you aren't wearing something this fine in combat. So all you really need is to get used to pretending to be confident." She gestured to the commander, as the two stared at their reflections side by side. "You're confident you can kill someone in this getup, yes?"

Elster looked herself up and down. Stretched her arms over her head. Crouched. Rotated her neck experimentally. Narrowed her eyes. "...yes. I can kill perfectly well in this."

"I made sure you could," Vanessa said, smiling nervously. "Never know what'll happen at one of these parties. Especially during wartime. Heh heh...ah..." Her expression dropped, as she stared forlorn at the floor.

"Will I be able to wear my sword and pistol with this?" Elster said, patting her sides.

"Let's check," Vanessa said, perking up. She ran off to the side table of the fitting room.

"...hmm," Natasha said, stroking her chin, eyes roving up and down her commander. "...comrade, what do you think? Would you be embarrassed to enter high society in this?"

The Adler sighed. A pencil paused in note-taking. Clipboard lowered.

From her chair in the corner, the woman stared with sober eyes.

"...I think the commander looks perfectly in keeping with her role," Alma said, before smoothing back her short, black hair. "In answer to your question, I wouldn't. Though my opinion matters little, since I'll be staying in the Nomarch." She looked down at her clipboard again. "What is our expression, again? 'So much to do...'?"

"...'so little time to do it', yes," Natasha said, clapping her hands with a smile. "I do love that we agree!" She gestured to the commander. "I have no problem attending the Ball in a (suitably lower ranking) version of this ensemble! Well done, Vanessa!"

"Thank you," Vanessa said, bowing her head. Color rushed to her cheeks. She nodded to the Adler. "Both of you." She stood behind her mother and began attaching the belt, its holster and scabbard dangling before being properly tied down. "There. Should have full range of movement."

"You will, of course, leave your weapons at the door when we reach the party," Natasha said, waving her hand dismissively. "But...better safe than sorry."

"..." Elster nodded, staring at the mirror with her hands on her belt. With one motion, she snapped the laspistol up into firing position, experimentally. Holstered it, then drew her sword. Nodded again, slowly sheathing it. "I can work with this, I think."

"Now then," Vanessa said, returning from a clothing rack, carrying another garment piece. "We know what you're wearing at the party, and why. Lower yourself, please."

Elster bent her knees, as her daughter draped a coat over her shoulders.

"But for everyday meetings, on campaign, and the like," Vanessa said, affixing golden clasp around her mother's neck, "I've made you this overcoat. Something to keep the cold out...and obscure the weapons at your waist. There. How's it look?"

Elster rose to her full height. Hands fiddled at the hem of the coat hanging from her shoulders. Sleeves dangled free. She tucked her arms under the flaps, so as much of her form disappeared in its folds. "...it's warm."

"Mmhmm," Vanessa nodded, lips curling up expectantly. "...well?"

Elster drew her laspistol again, twice. Once, to test her quick draw. Again, trying to be as discreet as possible. Holstering the weapon, she threw the left side of the overcoat out to quickly draw her sword. Shrugged the right side off her shoulder, to grant herself freedom of movement. "...I can work with this." She turned, and smiled to the Eule. "You did a good job."

"Thank you!" Vanessa said, beaming.

Setting the clipboard down, Alma stood and stalked over. Hands clasped behind her back. She watched her mother sheath her sword, then squatted by her side. Examined the hooves that poked out from the end of her dress trousers. "...so we're just...not doing boots, then? Is this wise?"

"Have you ever tried walking around in shoes when you have...these?" Elster said, looking down at the Adler. She tapped the front of one hoof against the carpeted floor. "I'd hate to have to fight in them. We do enough of that with the void suits, and we had to specially modify those."

"While obscuring our...unique feet, or lack thereof, would be useful," Natasha said, crossing her arms, and closing her eyes, "in practice, this would only fool someone in passing. We simply don't walk quite right, and learning to fake it would require time and effort best spent elsewhere."

"Plus," Vanessa said, tapping the black seams on her face and the spot beside her eye, "one look at our faces will tell people we're cyborgs. We can't exactly hide every inch of ourselves, especially in social contexts, without raising more questions."

"Ah," Alma said, stroking her chin. She stood up, eyes darting between her fellow replikas. "I see."

"It's best to simply own what we are," Elster nodded. "Not where we're from, of course. But...that we have the bodies we have." She shrugged, tugging at the gold chain of her overcoat. "We'll have Aras in the red robes of Mars, so..."

"Let the curious make likely enough inferences on their own," Natasha said, wagging a finger in the air. "As a rule, people prefer to interpret the world around them according to their existing Schema. In this galaxy, what's more likely? That we're an obscure, officially exterminated form of artificially created worker from a backwater civilization no one has ever heard of...?"

"...or that we're just another group of cyborgs, of which there are many," Alma continued, clasping hands behind her back again, "with perhaps close ties to the Mechanicum. And/or a world that survived the Age of Strife with some of its technology intact."

"And, really, that's not a lie, per se," Natasha said, smiling and shaking her head. "The best cover story: one that is technically true."

Vanessa tapped the front of her mother's overcoat. "I left parts of the uniform blank. We still need to decide on a symbol. I assume three stars are out?"

"And a name," Alma said, turning to the commander. "We're almost to our destination. I need something to put on all our paperwork."

"...hmm..." Elster nodded. "I'll be honest, I'm kind of...half-assing the symbol. We shouldn't want it to be distinctive anyway. As for the name..."

Adjusted her hat, so the front visor tipped over her eyes.

"What do we think of..."

 

"...the Zugvögel Company commander, Dame Elster!"

Mist billowed across a colorless, icy landscape. A bleak sun arced across the horizon. Exhaust belched from the tops of locomotives, milling in a nearby depot.

Household Guard stood at attention, carapace armor covered in a tabards of quartered gray and desaturated blue. Their uniforms gloved and padded against the cold. They stood, laslocks shouldered, beneath the gaze of a Knight Preceptor in quartered white and blue, of a richer hue.

The Knight itself stood in the shadow of a space elevator, from which the group of replikas strode.

Their commander marched at the fore, black and red greatcoat flapping in the chill wind. A red 'X' sewn on its left breast pocket, beneath a molded and laquered pin of white angel wings. She consciously abstained from bundling the coat around her.

Elster had to make a strong first impression, to the noble waiting to greet her.

The noble flanked by the burliest Household Guard, who eyed the offcomers from behind dark visors. They towered over the short man by at least two head heights.

"Welcome, welcome!" said the Knight pilot, holding out white gloved hands. His thinning wisps of hair just as white, his smiling face - pitted and lightly scarred - rosy from the cold. His jocular expression seemingly meant to make up for the absence of emotion from his missing eyes. Dark lenses on his augmetics, set in glinting platinum frames within his eyesockets. He extended a hand. "Welcome to Fadehome, Lady Elster! I am Sir Didier, Regent of House St. Blaise. A pleasure to meet a warrior so beautiful."

"It's an honor, mein herr," Elster said, putting on a modest smile. She inclined her head fractionally. Eyeing the Knight's bodyguards for a moment, she stopped just close enough to shake the gestalt's hand. "The Zugvögel are happy to visit your lovely planet."

"You should see it when we're away from the poles," Didier said, chuckling. He patted her red gloved hand jovially. He stared into space a moment, smacking his lips. "Zugvögel...'Migratory Birds', if I'm not mistaken?"

"Ja. You understand our language, Sir Didier?" Elster said, pulling away and tucking her arms under her overcoat. She smiled to mask a shiver. "I'm surprised."

"Oh, the old tongues have gotten around, haven't they, hmm?" Didier said, flashing a pearly white smile. "The language of Old Jermani, or so my friends from Terra tell me." He rubbed his gloved hands. "You are named for the Magpie. Is there significance to the avian nomenclature, perchance?"

Natasha strode forward, to stand just behind and to the commander's left, as a line of armed replikas loomed behind them. Tell him it's a...

"...curious motif in our culture, mein herr," Elster concluded, smiling. "And ever since our company began, we've felt rather like migratory fowl. Wandering the galaxy. Taking work where we can..."

"I understand," Didier nodded, lacing his fingers together in front of him. He turned his attention to the Kranich. "One of your officers, Lady Elster?"

"Natasha," the Spy said, stepping forward to shake the pilot's offered hand. Her head kept warm by a thick, bearskin hat. She smiled broadly. "Zugvögel Company liaison, at your service. Fadehome IS lovely...despite the chill."

"A pleasure, ma'am, and thank you for the complement," the Knight said, kissing the Kranich's gloved hand. His smile faded. "...I must apologize. I'd love to invite us all inside, but..." He shook his head. "I'm afraid we must settle business first, very quickly. As we agreed."

"Ja, of course," Elster nodded. She signaled with her arm, waving forward.

From the doors to the space elevator loading bay, carts wheeled forward. Their flat tops laden with wooden boxes, supplied from Fadehome's own carpentry corps. Each container inspected and scanned by Household Guards, before being sent forth.

Dash rolled in front, shivering in the cold, round helmet padded with fur to keep out the chill. On her Ara legs, she walked a single coffin up to the meeting place. "..."

"Danke, Dash," Elster nodded, a gesture the Star returned. The commander turned to the Knight, patting the box's top. "The body we discussed, as requested."

"They're all here, I take it?" Didier said, looking past the replika guards to study the line of cargo.

"They are," Elster nodded again. As she watched the pilot step beside the coffin, she said. "You are, of course, welcome to check yourself. But I must warn you, mein herr..." She frowned. "...it's not pretty."

The old pilot smiled sadly, then sighed. "...well...pretty or not..." He motioned to one of his guards.

Without a word, a gestalt stepped forward and opened the coffin's viewing lid.

"Gah!" Didier gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth. Face contorted in pain and grief. "Oh...Brandon. My dear nephew...what did this to you?"

Elster sighed, looking away. She'd seen the cadaver inside, and its grotesque state, enough. "...Herr Didier, I'm so sorry..."

"..." The pilot waved a hand, shaking his head. He couldn't summon words, his throat tight. He reached to the body, then pulled back, closing his hand. "Oh...my poor nephew...if your father were here to see you now..." He rubbed his face, trying to master himself.

"Our sincere condolences, my lord," Natasha said, bowing at the waist.

"...this...was the state you found him?" Didier said, taking a deep breath. Averted his eyes, and pointing to the body.

"Ja, sir," Elster nodded grimly. "The other deceased were in various states of injury. Your medical examiners have already verified this. Herr Brandon himself, unfortunately, was...like this." She gestured to the coffin.

"And there was evidence of Warp damage on the ship, yes?" Didier said, voice wet with tears he could no longer shed.

"Correct, my lord," Natasha nodded. She tucked her hands into her sleeves. "Unfortunately, due to extensive battle damage within, and the ransacked nature of the vessel, we cannot conclusively pinpoint what all happened, or where each unfortunate victim died."

Well rehearsed lies, delivered by the most accomplished liar the Eusan Nation could mass-produce.

"I hate to ask..." Didier whined, motioning for his guard to close the coffin. He turned to the replikas. "Any sign of the missing Knight suits? Our records indicate Humility of Fadehome carried a number of steeds, when it was separated from the rest of its convoy."

Elster simply shook her head. "..."

"Nein.There were...no signs of where your House's fine engines went, my lord," Natasha lied, putting on a solemn expression. "We suspect...it was looted before we happened upon the Humility. Or...at least what was left of it."

"Raiders, pirates, Xenos..." Didier muttered, shaking his head. His already chilled face paled further. "Xenos of the Warp, I suspect. The reports of the state of them..." He wagged a finger at the replika commander. "My lady, pray you never encounter an Enslaver. Horrible...terrible things. And who knows what else dwells in that dread dimension."

"Or perhaps..." Natasha said, inclining her head back, "...enemy action. The Warmaster...or Imperium?"

"Ah...you've heard of that business out east, yes?" Didier smiled sheepishly.

"We barely made it out of the east," Elster said, stoically. "The fighting out there...is like nothing I've ever seen."

"Have you, now? I see," the pilot said, smile fading. Face turned down, to stare at the snowflakes on the ground. "Nasty business, that...I suppose we'll have much to discuss."

"..."

After a moment, a chill wind blew through. The entire group shivered involuntarily.

"Hooo! Well, that's talk for around a warm fire!" Didier said, rubbing his arms. Patted the coffin one last time, before waving it on. He turned around, beckoning. "Come, come! Everyone inside. Lady Elster, I will see you and your personal retinue in my office."

"Of course, my lord," Elster said, finally permitting herself to clutch overcoat close around her. Shivered.

As the assorted persons - replika and gestalt alike - slowly filed inside, the Knight pilot spoke over his shoulder.

"I'm curious, my lady," Didier said, his voice trembling in the chill as he hugged himself. "You are called Dame Elster. Are you, perchance, a Knight? A freeblade, perhaps?"

Elster shrugged, hooves clacking on cold rockcrete. "I'm afraid I've never had the honor of piloting one of your auguest motoren, Herr Didier," she said, rubbing her reddening nose. "But yes, I have been granted a Knighthood."

"Oh?" the pilot said, looking over his shoulder curiously. "From where?"

 

"...and then they Knighted me. Whole ceremony and everything."

Fire crackled in brick-lined auto-hearth. Amasec poured, swirled in a glass. Sipped conservatively. Snowflakes drifted past the large bay window, that overlooked the trainyard and the arctic wastes beyond.

Scarred fingers, newly warmed, traced the flat edge of the power sword. Augmetic eyes drank in the winged crossguard.

"A fascinating encounter," Didier breathed, testing the weapon's weight in his hands. "Xenos beasts are never to be trust. Much less Xenos witches. Even human ones must be watched closely, of that make no mistake."

"..." Natasha furrowed her brows in annoyance, leaning against the broad bookshelf. Hid a scowl behind her glass, as she tasted, rather than sipped, the beverage. She only needed to experience accidental inebriation once to fully internalize the limits of her replika alcohol tolerance. "...very...wise, my lord."

"Over dinner, I should regale you about the war against the 4th Belt Mageocracy," the pilot mused, turning back towards the fire. "Brandon's finest hour. A fitting homage, to a conquering hero." He sighed, shaking himself from his reverie. Held the power sword up reverently. "I would say, Lady Elster, you've more than earned this blade. AND your title."

"As easy as that?" Elster said, weaving her fingers together. She leaned forward in her padded armchair, eyes on the pilot. "You flatter me, Herr Didier. I don't know if I can really be said to stand as equal to those august men of Caliban's Order." She permitted herself a small smile. "Let alone a Knight pilot."

"Oh, pish posh," Didier said, waving a hand dismissively. Mouth smirking good-naturedly. The light of the fire reflected off the dark lenses of his augmetic eyes. "I should think, first and foremost, any Order of Knights - piloted or otherwise - respected enough to have the loyalty of a Primarch is more than worthy of honor. Indeed, the Lion is said to have poached their most worthy squires to fill his Legion." He traipsed over toward the fire, and held the blade out to the replika commander with both hands. "Your sword, my lady."

"Danke, mein herr," Elster nodded, taking the power sword. She sheathed it, and set sword and sheath against a bookcase behind her, its buckles undone. Her greatcoat hung unceremoniously on the back of the blue armchair. She watched the pilot walk to the seat opposite her, noting the access port on the back of the gestalt's neck. "..."

"Moreover," Didier said, lowering himself into the chair with a groan, "the...world of Caliban is hardly the only planet who suffered...degradation of technological prowess over the course of Old Night." He sighed in relief, as he reclined in his chair. "Some of House St. Blaise's peers in the League of Gal-Galon, for no fault of their own, could never consistently maintain their venerable suits at full capacity...until the Imperium came knocking." He smirked. "Or the Mechanicum, as the case may be. Anyway, so long as that nobility and heroism abides, a Knight is a Knight, with or without a Steed."

"I'd like to think that's true as well," Elster nodded, reclining herself. Crossed her legs, so one hoof dangled lazily.

"...you know, I'm curious about that," Natasha said, pacing the room. Glass of amasec held lazily at her thigh, finger tracing the line of books. "This League of yours. What is the story behind that? Why 'Gal-Galon'?"

The pilot chuckled, clasping his hands together. "Ooh...now that's a tale. If you ladies will indulge an old man..."

"Bitte," Elster nodded. "Go on."

"Well, as you no doubt surmise, it began with the outset of Old Night, as it so often does," Didier said, inclining his head back. He frowned. "Our old stories give us...the outline of events. The betrayal of thinking machines. The rise of witches, and the horrors they..." He closed his mouth. Cleared his throat. "...a-anyway, the witches. And the Warp storms. Fadehome, and every other world in the galaxy, were cut off. Alone." He sighed. "Or...mostly alone."

"..." Elster cocked an eyebrow.

"For a while, it was merely the perfidious Aeldari," Didier sneered. "They seemed to mind turbulence of the Warp not one bit. Just appeared every so often from their dark holes in nowhere, ships festooned with spikes and chains. Killed whomever could fight, and dragged innocent folk to their black dimension in chains. Doing g-...who-knows-what to them."

Natasha eyed her commander. I'm getting the impression the luminaries of Fadehome may not have fully shrugged off the 'taint' of religiosity, as much as they'd like the Imperium to think.

"Hmm..." Elster nodded.

"Such it was, in any event...until the Warp storms cleared." Didier frowned, brows furrowed over his augemtic eyes. "At that, they just...stopped."

Elster cast a sideways glance to the Kranich. The birth of Slaanesh, whom the Eldar call 'She Who Thirsts'. They seem to think they created the god, somehow. It precipitated a genocide of their race.

Noted, Natasha thought, furrowing her brow. She pretended to sip her drink, tasting the foreign beverage. We'll talk about how you know that later...

"...in any case," Didier said, his mood brightening, "Fadehome did not suffer predation lightly. St. Blaise himself set forth in his steed. Repelled the Aeldari. Put the Witch-Kings of Daarkholme and Testabule and the West Marches to the sword. Crushed the wicked, and welded many disparate Knight pilots together into a single House. By Blaise's valor, purity, and charisma, Fadehome made whole. Peace reigned." He sighed. "...for a time."

"What happened to break the peace, my lord?" Natasha said, swirling her drink. Eyes wandered to the guards standing vigil at the head of the room.

"...the...Galok," Didier said, venom on his tongue. He brushed wisps of white hair back. "Loathsome Xenos." He held his hands out and wiggled his fingers. "Soft, squid-like things. Little more than brains and eyes and tentacles and...too many tiny teeth. Of little threat...on their own. But they were smart, and...good with their feelers, as it were."

"How smart?" Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Engineers?" Elster said, sitting up slightly.

"Oh yes," Didier said, eyebrows rising. He motioned, and by some unseen digital signal, a servant re-entered the room. Poured another glass of amasec. "About a thousand years ago, they appeared quite suddenly in Fadehome, and I'm told to many other of our now-peers. Soft bodies riding in metal contraptions as tall as a man. Sometimes with primitive arms and legs, sometimes...like mobile salt shakers." He scowled, taking the glass offered him. "They wanted peace. Trade deals. Alliances. Brotherhood." He huffed, raising the glass half to his lips. "As if we could be kin to such...revolting creatures..."

"They could reach Fadehome?" Elster said, frowning. "How?"

"Yes, that's curious," Natasha said, furrowing her brow. "I was led to believe the Warp storms of old only calmed about...two centuries ago."

"...ngh...calmed completely, yes," Didier nodded, swallowing a sip of drink. Pointed to the Kranich. "But the storms were never wholly consistent. They waxed and waned in intensity. Sometimes, in some places, they mellowed enough that Warp travel was possible, albeit never without its dangers. Most worlds in this galaxy, of course, were hardly in a position to capitalize. Few remembered how to enter the Warp at all, after millennia stuck behind the Tempest."

"But these Galok could?" Natasha said.

"Not only that, over time the Galok learned new tricks," Didier said. He waved a hand, frowning. "I don't understand it myself. But later, the Xenos seemed to discover something the Mechanicum called 'Subspace'. A way to travel without the Warp, and unlike to the Aeldari method." He sighed, looking away. Glass raised to his lips. "Whatever their secrets of Subspace travel, they died with the extinction of their disgusting race. More's the pity..."

"...I assume the League of Gal-Galon had something to do with that?" Elster said, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes. The Houses that became the League would, in time, find themselves victimized by the Galok," Didier said, swirling his glass. "Raided. Attacked. The Xenos shrieked of 'revenge'. Lies and excuses for base piracy..."

Or, more likely, Natasha thought, casting a glance to the replika commander, the good lord St. Blaise here is missing a critical piece of connective tissue. Between the attempt at peaceful contact, and the aliens vowing revenge. Probably crimes committed by a class of insular, zealous warrior nobility, grown wary and contemptuous of aliens from without...

Oh, I assumed something to that effect, yes, Elster thought, stroking her chin.

"What's worse, these Xenos were not alone!" Didier said, raising his voice and scowling. Pointed. "Human pirates! Raiders! Even, scandalously, other Knight Houses!" The old man swallowed, leaning back and moderating his tone. "...Houses whose names are undeserving of remembrance."

"Humans who elected to take the offer of alliance?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"I imagine when the squid aliens are the only ones offering interstellar travel..." Natasha shrugged, eyes closed.

"Weak fools," Didier grumbled, shaking his head. "Species traitors." He tapped the rim of his glass. "What's worse...these humans traded mightily in exchange for access to the stars." He leaned forward, teeth clenched. "They taught the Galok how to fabricate Knight suits!"

"No!" Natasha gasped, pressing a hand to her cheek in affected shock. "Say it isn't so!"

"Oh, it was, my lady," Didier nodded. He took a sip of his drink. "What came out of this union of technology were debased war-machines. Tripod mech-forms. Pale shadows of the holy..." He shook his head. "Apologies...the right and proper Knight suits of our ancestors. A kind of 'doppel-engine'..."

"Doppelmotoren?" Elster said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Just so," Didier nodded. "...when this unhallowed alliance went forth, they brought their Galok false-Knights, and the Blackguard engines of those traitor Houses, with them."

The pilot sank deep into his chair. "For a thousand years, every untainted House endured the raids of the Galok Confederation. We fought tirelessly, waiting year by year for the invaders to come. But each of us fought alone. For the cowards picked at us from behind the safety of the Tempest."

"Mein beileid, for what you had to deal with," Elster said, only half-lying. "I can guess what happened next..."

Didier cracked a smile. "When the Tempest passed, we could at last mount more proactive resistance. Raiding ships with Warp drives seized, at great cost, and used to mount counter-attacks. Those who resisted the Galok for centuries finally met one another. Comrades in arms. Still..." He sat up, suddenly energized. "We could only really begin when the Imperium and Mechanicum arrived. They offered ships, and new suits, and knowledge of how to maintain them. And the opportunity to seek glory and retribution!"

"..." Elster nodded, huffing quietly. Her spirits guttered, as she saw the chain of events play out. I suppose when you've raided trapped systems for a millennium...you may deserve what's coming to you. But still...to mete out extinction...

"The last holdouts of Confederation resistance made their stand on Gal-Galon, the Galok homeworld," Didier said, grinning wickedly. "On the soggy shores of that planet, beneath stormy skies, Knights of St. Blaise stood pauldron to pauldron with the finest warriors of Brandywich, Waite, Leclair, Zeranor, and many others. They rode down the traitor Blackguard. Smashed the doppel-engines, smiting them to the sea. Demolished their hydro-towers, dry manufactora, and reef-spires."

"..." Natasha felt the pilot's aura shiver with elation. Stoked by pride. She smiled. "A glorious day, I'm sure."

"Beyond a doubt it was," Didier breatthed, nodding. He knocked back the last mouthful of drink, and wiped his bottom lip with the back of his hand. "Victorious Knights of a dozen-odd Houses ascended to orbit in glory. As they put the world of Gal-Galon to the torch with orbital bombardment, they toasted their vindication, and the formation of a new League. A League named for the site of their final victory against their oppressors! Justice seized, after a millennium denied!"

"..."

Elster reluctantly smiled. "I am...happy for you, mein herr. Truly a...war worth remembering..."

"And remember we have," Didier said, handing his glass off to a waiting servant. "In honor of this momentous occasion, no matter how busy the Great Crusade, the Houses of the League still meet every decade. To reconnect, feast, dance, and renew our vows of mutual fealty and defense..."

"..."

The silence stretched on a moment. The air turned sour.

The replikas stared at the old pilot. Watched his smile disappear.

"...I fear the Grande Ball...might be thinner this time," Didier whispered, weaving his fingers together. Augmetic eyes downcast. "And on the 100th anniversary, no less..."

"You think the Houses will still send representatives?" Natasha said, setting her glass down on the fireplace mantle. "With the Warmaster's rebellion?"

"Honor demands nothing less," Didier said, nodding. His voice tinged by resignation. "Just as Honor demands I host it, as I was selected to do by lots at the previous Ball." He leaned on his knees, steepling his fingers. "...you must understand. Tensions have been high for a while now. I suspect the Houses wedded to the Forge Worlds will boycott the gathering altogether. They're too intertwined with the fortunes of the Forges of the Belt of Iron. Too much...bad blood."

Elster pursed her lips pensively. Brows furrowed. "...ich entschuldige mich, Herr Didier. For bringing more ill tidings to your door, when you have such matters weighing on you."

"Yes, my lord," Natasha nodded. "A thousand pardons."

"Nonsense, ladies," Didier sighed, holding up a hand. He put on a sad smile. "You brought us tidings that are not happy, true. But you have granted us answers, when this...benighted galaxy seems intent on supplying only questions. You brought Brandon, Uther, and the others home. For that, we are in your debt." He clasped his hands and sat back. "How may House St. Blaise repay this favor?"

The two replikas glanced at one another.

Natasha cracked a smile. Time to reel him in, commander.

Elster nodded fractionally. Turned to the master of House St. Blaise.

"...well...if it wouldn't be too much of an imposition on his lordship's hospitality..."

Notes:

From here, we're going to launch into the "Grande Ball" Arc properly. At time of writing, I'm going out of town in a week. So for the sake of not leaving off in the middle of a story, we're going to leave off here until I get back. Stay tuned.

Chapter 123: Fashionably Late

"I wish I could take you along..."

Hands clasped. Needle on vinyl. Feet and hooves stepped in time with the song issuing from the record player.

The gestalt rotated around her lover, one hand resting on black shoulder.

Ariane smiled. "To this 'Grande Ball'?"

"Yes," Elster said, one hand resting on her lover's hip. Hooves clacked on the bare metal floor. Eyes narrowed. "I feel terrible. Going to a party like this, while you're stuck here. I...I considered asking the daemon..."

"If he'd let me out of here?" Ariane said, cocking an eyebrow. Glanced at the tiny room in the Penrose. Grown somehow smaller, with high stacks of records and cassette tapes. "Let me dance with you, in the 'Real' world?"

"Just for one night," the replika said, shaking her head. "One night where I could show you off to all the lords and ladies, in the finest dress Van could sew. 'See here? This is Ariane Yeong of Leng. And she's the most beautiful woman in this or any room!'"

"Pfft!" Ariane snorted, shutting her eyes and smiling.

"What's the matter?" Elster frowned.

Ariane let herself be twirled, shaking her head. Pressed her back against her lover, wrapping the replika's arms around her. "You've become such a sweetheart, you know? So confident. Much better with your words. Which of your kids taught you to be so eloquent?"

"...I've...had a lot of practice," Elster breathed, color rushing to her cheeks as they swayed together. "You don't think you'd look ravishing in a ball gown?"

"'Ravishing', eh? Even your vocabulary has improved," Ariane smirked, twirling back into their waltz. She cast her eyes down sadly, maintaining a smile. "I don't know if anyone would look at me and see..." She reached up and brushed white hair behind her ear. "...something worth looking at."

A black hand reached up and cupped around the pale one. The gestalt looked up in surprise.

"We're not back on Rotfront anymore," Elster said, firmly. Softly. Eyes locked with her lover's. "Those people didn't know your value."

"...Ellie..." Ariane breathed, frowning.

"..." Elster smiled. Squeezed her lover's hand. "If nothing else, I'm pretty sure those Knight pilots have seen far stranger. Really, we replikas are likely to steal all the confused glances..."

"It's so strange, the idea of a world - a galaxy - without replikas," Ariane said, briefly frowning. "Is it so strange to find a...cyborg, out there?"

"Very much not," Elster said, swaying with the beat. "But most nobles, I think, don't expect people as cyberized as us...to be dancing in a ballroom. Usually, they're wearing oily robes, praying, and repairing their suits."

"I suppose," Ariane nodded. She smiled. "I'm still not used to the idea of...giant robots you walk around in. How...big are they?"

"You remember the little station you and your mother lived in?" Elster said.

"I'm still surprised you know," Ariane chuckled. Glanced down briefly, frowning. The gestalt pushed down the thoughts of her lover trawling through nightmares stitched from her memories. Looked up curiously. "...why?"

"The shortest of these Knight suits is at least a third again taller than that, at least from where you stand at the door," Elster said, holding a hand over her head, fingers parallel to the ground. "The bigger ones are easily two or three storeys tall."

"Shut up!" Ariane gasped, jaw dropping. "You're lying!"

"I am not," Elster said, flatly. Head inclined back. "We have some back on one of the ships we found. They're huge."

"Fuck..." Ariane muttered, staring over the replika's shoulder. Pursed her lips. Looked at her lover's face. "What will you do with them? These...metal colossi?"

"Not sure yet," Elster said, staring at her hooves pensively. "Natasha suggested...shopping around to the other Houses. Try to make connections, before we...start making offers. But I really don't know..."

"..." Ariane studied her lover's face for a moment. Smiled softly. "Maybe focus on making it through the Ball, first. And if it makes you feel any better..." The two stretched out, connected by one hand. "...neither of us have much experience in social situations, do we?"

Looking down the length of their arms, Elster blinked. Then smiled, drawing her lover - her goddess - back in. "I suppose not."

"Heh heh!" Ariane giggled, pressing herself to the replika's chest. Luxuriated in strong arms enclosing her. "I just hope...your girls have a good time..."

Elster pressed her cheek against the gestalt's white hair. Massaged her pale shoulders.

"Me too..."

---

"[Friends. Comrades. Sirs and Ladies most noble. Let's see reason.]"

Colorless orb loomed large, beneath a vault of stars. Red lights blinked atop the Fadehome Orbital.

Surrounding it, kilometers long vessels hung in the void. Shields ignited. Weapons systems online. Firing solutions centered on one another.

They waited. Every breath held. Save one.

Vox flared again, on every channel. The Cruiser and its escorts, painted in green and cream and bronze, asserted themselves. Trundled forward.

"[My name is Sir Chrétian, High King of House Leclair,]" the man continued, calmly. "[Many of you know me, personally or by reputation. My presence here today on this, the 100th Anniversary of our League's victory against the hated Galok Confederation, should be all the proof you require that I am no coward.]"

On the deck of the ship, the olive-skinned man stroked his gray beard. Cast a glance at his sons.

His youngest smiled meekly, uncertain. "..."

High King returned the smile warmly. Turned back forward.

"[Heh heh...no matter what transpires come the morrow, we are still today friends,]" Chrétian said. He chuckled. "[Or at least I hope so! After all we've been through together! With that in mind...I will be docking now. And I shall do so without fear. For I know, you are all honorable Knights. I will see you all at the party, Sirs and Ladies.]"

Thumbing off the vox-hailer, the High King of House Leclair motioned to the ship's captain. "Do it."

"..." Swallowing, the grizzled officer nodded.

The other void ships watched, as the Light of Emeraldus lowered its void shields, and powered down its macrocannon batteries.

Without pause, the Cruiser sent a signal to the Fadehome Orbital, and hoved in to dock.

Paralyzed, the other ships watched the approach. Ten seconds. Twenty.

Before half a minute elapsed, a ship painted white, with accents of red, lowered shields, and made burn for the orbital. Firing solutions forgotten, gun-gangs set to rest.

The scions of House Waite could not countenance the dishonor of firing on an unresisting, vulnerable vessel. Much less the shame of letting Old Man Leclair monopolize the glory of such a bold move.

Only once the Waite ship moved was the spell of paralysis broken. One by one, ships and their escorts abandoned hostilities, and made for the dock. Void shields lowered, weapons rested. Then, the entire assemblage of vessel rushed to follow suit. Their occupants eager not to be the last to lay down their arms. To do so, manifest cowardice.

Many breaths released. Heartrates slowed. Jokes cracked, to vent tension. Even if only for the moment.

All had no doubt they would come to blows. In space, or on the battlefield in their steeds. But it would not be this day.

The compact held. The oaths, observed. The League of Gal-Galon endured. For now.

If any took notice of the tiny, sub-Escort craft parked at the dock already, none paid it any mind. Its boxy hull painted black, with accents of red and white and ocher. Its flat prow adorned with a red 'X'.

Within the Nomarch 06, replikas of the Zugvögel prepared for their formal debut.

 

"[In position?]"

Last rays of sunlight dipped over the eastern mountains. Moon shone bright against the vault of stars. Salty wind rolled in from the bay, rustling through the trees. Waves crashed against the rocky cliffs below.

Gloves pulled tight. Gray and blue tabard secured over flak vest, belt buckled tight. Security badge clipped to shoulder. Laslock hefted.

"Almost," the Household Guard vibrated in their throat, so quiet only subdermal implants could register. They pressed a finger to their ear, cochlear implant receiving. "Making for the villa. You?"

"[Hnngh...twenty meters to go. Then, up to the roof.]"

"Take your time," the Guard subvocalized, turning around.

With stolen boots, the figure stepped over the corpse of their uniform's former owner. The man's face turned purple, stilled blood oozing from thin red marks where wire bit into his throat.

The imposter stepped from the brush, and craned their head up the hill. Studied the warm light filtering out through great bay windows of the stately villa. Studied the car-lined road, flanked by shadowed colossi, that led to the front doors.

"We have all night."

 

"You're sure you're okay by yourself?"

Stars twinkled down on the ornate front gardens. Air thick with salty breeze, laughter, and conversation.

Ground transports opened their doors, disgorging occupants clad in dress uniforms and ornate gowns. Most climbed the cobbled path on boots or high-heeled shoes. Furtive, suspicious glances cast as much to each other as the strange off-comers.

Those standing on hooves lingered near the circular drive. Heads craned back to stare dumbstruck by the giants looming large.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Marceline nodded, leaning back in her seat. Kicked her hooves up and balanced them on the seat facing opposite. Rested her left forearm on the edge of the open window. Flashed a cocky smile. "No one's gonna want me in there, and I'm not used to parties anyway. Too much noise."

Elster smiled, leaning on the roof of the limosene. "So those dance lessons were for nothing, huh?"

"Sorry, mom," Marceline shrugged. "Van can tell you, I wasn't very good at it."

Knock, knock.

The driver side window rolled down. The replika commander looked over.

"...ma'am," the driver said, nervously, looking over his shoulder through the window dividing off the passenger compartment. "If I may..."

"Just...leave the vehicle running for her," Elster said, smiling apologetically. "You're free to do as you please until I call for the ride back."

"Th-thank you, my lady," the driver-serf nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. "Enjoy the ball."

Elster nodded. She smiled at the Fledermaus, waving.

"..." Marceline gave a simple wave in return, and picked up her bass guitar.

The replika commander watched the limo drive off to the parking lot beyond the hedge-maze. She stifled a chuckle, as she heard the first notes from the Fledermaus's instrument.

"Mom, look at them!"

Turning her head, Elster strode a few meters up the hill. Hooves clacked on cobblestone. Cape rippled in the breeze.

Flanking the path to the stone front steps, Knight suits stood sentinel.

While other such machines sat vigil beside the front doors, and posted at the villa's four corners, the ones framing the path were not painted in the blue and white of House St. Blaise. Rather, their armor sported many different color patterns. Loaned in advance by the scions of the many Houses of the Gal-Galon League. A show of both power, and respect.

"Come on, you've seen them before, right?" Ishtar said, frowning. Eyes cast upward, studying the nearest machine. Sporting twin autocannon arms and pintel-mounted heavy stubber, it stood as tall as a one-storey house.

"Yeah, but not so many," Meryl said, looking over her shoulder. "Or in such great condition. Right, Van?"

The eldest Eule nodded, staring up. Eyes widening fractionally. "...right."

"If you think this is impressive, you should have seen the last ball."

Elster looked over her shoulder, as a man with long, wavy brown hair strode past. Green and cream jacket billowed in the breeze, shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

He cast a curious glance at the replika commander, then to her children, and shrugged. Buried his nose in a freshly picked rose. Olive skin warm and dark against the light shining from the villa.

"What do you mean, my lord?" Meryl said, cocking an eyebrow as the handsome man strode over.

"Only that the last Grande Ball had many more suits in attendance," said Prince Dorian Leclair, waving his free hand nonchalantly. "And last time, everyone jockeyed for a chance to bring their biggest suits."

Vanessa, glancing at the passing dandy, looked around. "...they're...mostly Armigers, right?"

"Yep," Dorian shook his head, shrugging. "Cowards, all of them." He paused his stride, looking down at the Eule with the blue hair. "Hmm..."

"..." Meryl blinked, color rushing to her face.

"Oi," said Kite, walking over from where she and Breach stood off to the side. The elder Star cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. "You lookin' at something?"

"...mmm..." Dorian Leclair cast an annoyed glance at the Star. His eyes softened, as he looked the replika up and down. Smiled, and turned back toward the path. "Enjoy the party, ladies. I have a fashionably late entrance to make..."

Blinking, Meryl glanced up and nudged the Star in the arm. "Hey, Kite..."

"Hmm?" Kite said, leaning down. Eyes locked on the retreating gestalt. "What's up?"

"Did that guy..." Meryl said, pressing fingers to her lips, eyes locked on the Leclair pilot. "...look like he was checking us out?"

"Yeah, it looked like," Kite said, scratching her scalp through auburn hair. She leaned down to the Eule's ear. Lowered her voice. "You think...we could get him to bed with us? Or maybe a broom closet?"

"..." Meryl blushed, shifting weight from one hoof to the other. "...maybe?"

"You probably could," Elster said, walking past. Scowled. "But I'd advise against it. He's nobility. And worse, a galaxy-traveling soldier. You have no idea what he's infected with." She straightened up, adjusting the gold clasp around her neck. "Now come along, girls."

As other replikas jogged to keep pace, Vanessa stared. Not down the path, but up. At the colossus looming over the heads of its smaller kin.

"Vanessa!" Elster called, waving her arm. "We're going! Nat is waiting for us!"

"Ah!" Vanessa flinched, then hiked up her skirt. "C-coming!"

As her hooves clacked on cobblestone, she cast one last glance up.

Resting on a patch of grass in the garden, just to the left of the path, a Knight Castellan loomed taller than Armiger and Questorus pattern suit alike. Its armour green and cream, trimmed in bronze. Bristling with guns. Its tilting shield adorned with a symbol of a solar crown.

Dawnbreak, granted a place of honor its pattern demanded, stood vigil against a night only just begun.

 

"There you are, you scoundrel! Ha ha! Come! Meet our host!"

Soft music filled the air. Warm light glinted off crystal chandeliers. Marble pillars held up high verandas, on which guests overlooked the foyer.

Chatter, genteel. Blood, as blue as the wallpaper.

Cream glove pulled off. Olive hand offered, while the other clutched a rose. "Charmed, Lord St. Blaise," Dorian said, smiling civilly. "Apologies for my late entrance. I simply had to linger in the garden while there was still light out."

"Oh, I perfectly understand, Sir Dorian," Didier said, gnarled hand shaking the younger pilot's. Warm light glinted off the platinum frame of his eye augments. "I will convey your praise to the gardeners."

"Ah, Dorian," said the grizzled pilot in the green and cream jacket. Wrinkled face grinning, he clapped a hand on his youngest son's shoulder. "I was just telling Sir Didier about Felix's Major Becoming."

"Were you, now?" Dorian said, glancing lazily at his brother. Muttered. "It's not that impressive..."

"Y-yes," Felix nodded, swallowing. He looked at the floor, adjusting the yellow ascot at his throat. "To the Dolorous Duty..."

"Ah, that Duty of yours," Didier said, shaking his head. "Tsk, tsk. Really, cousin. Must you subject all your children to that beast? She is...not a happy steed."

"Acherons never are, true," said Sir Chrétian, nodding and stroking his gray beard. "But well...a Knight of Leclair must be tempered by the fires of the Acheron. Lest reckless and callow youths grow into reckless and callow adults. Isn't that right, Dorian?"

The handsome pilot shrugged, eyes closed. "It is tradition. Plus..." He pointed at his younger brother. "If I had to deal with those maniacs screaming in my head for six months, brother, you have to as well."

"...r-right..." Felix said, smiling nervously. A bead of sweat ran down his brow.

"He'll be fine!" Chrétian chuckled, patting his youngest son on the back. "Though...I admit, we'd have all preferred Felix's 'trial by fire' happen under...more ideal circumstances..."

"...s'truth," Didier sighed, lacing his fingers together pensively. Sensing a pall about to fall over his guests, the host stood at attention. "Come, come! Enjoy the festivities!"

"Oh, I shall," Dorian grinned, sniffing his rose. When he trudged past, thinking no one was watching, he rubbed his nose.

"..." Felix watched his brother pass. Questioned whether the whitish powder he thought he saw on Dorian's upper lip was merely a trick of the light.

Dun dun-dun duuun!

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

Attention drawn by the long trumpets sounded by Household Guard, the guests in the room looked to the head of the foyer.

A footman, in a gray and blue jacket and powdered wig, held up a roll of parchment. Raised his voice.

"Presenting...Dame Elster, Knight of the Order of Caliban..." He paused only briefly, jerking his head to the side, as a gear shifted in his mind. An unfamiliar series of words, for the context to which the aging servant was much accustomed. "...Commander of the Zugvögel Mercenary Company. Here, with daughters and soldiers, as Our Lordship's honored guests!"

Doors opened by gloved hands, figures strode through in black and white and red and ocher. Hooves clacked loudly on checkered white and blue tiles.

Dozens of pairs of eyes drank the newcomers in.

Stars wore lesser forms of their mother's dress uniform. Black jackets, trimmed with red, cut short to expose the midriff. Undershirts scarlet, tucked under black belts with round, gold buckles. Jacket fronts stitched with ocher ornamentation. Cuffs and collars adorned with pure white buttons, and red 'X's. Heads topped with a variant of the Eusan Nation dress uniform hat.

Kite and Breach strode arm-in-arm with their dates. Dash walked awkwardly with the Spy on her arm, wishing she could hide her frown behind her mask.

Eules, Storch, Kranich, and Kolibri wore dresses.

The Eules wore matching forms - short-sleeved affairs with loose, knee-length skirts. All the better to catch the air when they danced, to evoke the spirit of tutus, if not the rigidity. Their ankles festooned with black leg-warmers and beaded pearls. Vanessa's dress predominantly red, with a black sash around her waist. Meryl's dress predominantly white, with a black sash, all the better with her blue hair to honor their distinguished host.

Natasha led Dash in confidently, her black skirt with red trim topped with a similarly shaded dress uniform jacket draped over her shoulders. She glanced around in a casual-seeming manner, eyes and mind drinking in their surroundings, all exits, and every person present. Searched for ill intent, and blind corners they might be ambushed. All this, the Kranich kept behind a mask of total, unconcerned control and amusement.

She collated data fed to her by the Kolibri walking beside her. Shahrazad, walking hand-in-hand with Vanessa, wore a red dress with black trim, and a white blouse. Her long, curly hair and three forehead stars, hidden beneath a blue silk headscarf, sewn with tiny ocher stars, hung loose over her shoulders. Her mind dipped broadly into the intelligences around them, following the Kranich's direction in how to finagle around defenses without detection.

Taking up the rear, Breach led Ishtar inside. Even on her Ara legs, the Storch drew attention with her ornate red dress and matching hair. Arms wreathed in white gloves up to her biceps. Long skirt ruffled heavily, tied up by massive bows (to keep the extensive length from interfering at her current height). Color ran to her cheek, as she giddily looked around, basking in the attention sent her way. "..."

At the head of the group, the replika commander stopped in the middle of the foyer.

Adjusting a black, visored hat, adorned by a red 'X', Elster scanned the room. Stretched her left arm out sideways, allowing the blue-black fur of her Sphiranx cape tumble behind her. Revealed the ornate, winged power sword at her waist.

The room fell into whispers.

"Mercenaries? Here?"

"Why invite commoners? Sellswords, even?"

"This is a private function! The violation of tradition...!"

"But...they are guests of Sir Didier. Tradition demands..."

"What is wrong with their feet?"

"Cyborgs? Are they Mechanicum aligned?"

"...maybe the Forge Worlds sent spies after all..."

Looking around, the replikas stood resolutely, but nervously.

Vanessa looked down and to her left. "...Shah?"

The Kolibri squeezed the Eule's hand. Her voice low, quiet. "...they don't want us here."

"Well, too bad for them," Natasha said, pulling a paper fan from her waistband and flapping it at her face for effect. "We're not going anywhere. Make yourselves at home, girls."

"Dame Elster! Welcome!"

Elster stepped forward, taking the old pilot's hands. "Herr Didier," she said, nodding. "I hope we're not disturbing..."

"Nonsense, my lady, you have every right to be here!" Didier said, patting her hand and smiling. He waved deeper inside the building. "Enjoy yourselves!"

"Danke, my lord," Elster nodded.

A servant stepped forward, gesturing toward the right side of the foyer from where the guests entered. "Coat, hat, and...weapon check, Lady Elster."

"Of course," Elster said, following the servant to a booth framed in ornately carved wood. She unfastened pistol holster and scabbard from her belt. Placed them on the counter, hand moving to her hat. "If you don't mind," she said to the coat-check girl, "I'd like to keep my cape, at least for the moment."

"Very well, my lady," the young woman said, bowing her head. She reverently took up the sword, eyes drinking in the winged crossguard. She breathed, "...the Dark Angels..."

"...the Order on Caliban was...very generous in their gifts," Elster said, flashing a meek smile. "I hope one day to earn the honor..."

Vanessa, standing at her mother's back, cast a nervous look over her shoulder. "...?"

Across the foyer, being led by an older gentleman and the dandy from before into the ballroom proper, a young man in a green and cream jacket looked back. Blond hair and yellow ascot a spot of bright color amid a sea of stark whites and blues.

His green eyes caught hers. Both sets widened fractionally.

For a brief moment, time stood still. The world fell away.

Despite the distance, gestalt pilot and replika domestic head felt alone together.

Just as soon as it happened, they broke contact, as the Knight pilots of House Leclair retreated.

Vanessa's heart fluttered. Color ran to her cheeks.

Who...was that?

 

"[Inside. Securing new disguise. In position?]"

Hand gripped the ledge. With a single motion, it pulled shadowed figure up over the edge. Muffled footpads gripped blue, ceramic roof tiles.

From behind red lenses, the figure glanced down at the stone veranda. Noted the pair of Household Guard coming around the corner, sightlines drawn exactly where he'd crawled up seconds before.

"Affirmative," the man subvocalized, slinking into the shadow of the chimney that jutted toward the night sky. Matte black bodyglove faded from sight. He knelt, removing the weapon slung on his back. "Confirm party status?"

"[Less crowded than typical, more crowded that expected.]" After a moment, the accomplice added, "[Off-comers. Non-nobles. Not on the list.]"

"Third party?" the kneeling figure noted, hand halfway in a pouch on his belt. "Intruders? Should we-?"

"[Guests of Lord Didier, it seems. All women. Cyborgs. Mercenaries. Minimal to nonexistent combat readiness.]"

"Tactical assessment?" The figure looked around at the empty roof, then removed a plasteel disk from his belt, with a number of shuttered slots around its edge.

"[...provisional non-threat. I'll keep you informed.]"

"Focus on the mission," he said, attaching the disk to a roof tile. Tapped buttons on its upward facing surface.

Slots opened. From within, micro-mechanisms thrummed to life. Tiny, insectoid machines poured out. They dispersed, each seeking a crack in the roof, through which to enter.

The man sat back against the chimney, casting furtive glances around. Turned attention back to his weapon, data fed to his eye lenses. Blink-cycled through a growing web of camera feeds.

"Once the spy bugs are in place, I'll patch you into the feed..."

 

"Acknowledged."

Shing.

"...!" A suck of air. Eyes widened in surprise.

The pilot died before he hit the bathroom floor. Dress jacket a rich burgundy, fly open. Back unblemished, heart and spine sliced in twain.

With a muscular twitch, the green, shimmering blade retracted into the 'Guard's' sleeve. A hand reached back and snapped the door lock closed.

Tucking hands under the victim's armpits, the 'Guard' dragged the cadaver into the open, wheelchair-accessible stall.

"..."

A few minutes - and ounces of Polymorphine - later, the figure slithered under the stall door and stood upright. Approached the bathroom mirror, adjusting their necktie.

"..." Washing their hands, the 'Noble Lord' used the residual moisture to slick back their long, black hair. Prominent widow's peak. They furrowed their brow. With force of will, their face ran like wax, shifting to conform to their eidetic memory of the subject.

When the flesh solidified, the false Sir Balder Brandywich smirked.

Rattle, rattle. Knock, knock.

"Oi! What gives?" called a masculine voice, banging against the carved wooden door. "Unlock the door! Other people need to use the facilities!"

"Coming!" the infiltrator said, turning on their heel. With a single flick, they unlocked the door. Opened it.

"Balder?" said a noble in matching burgundy uniform. He shoved the door aside and stepped through, frowning at his 'cousin'. "Why'd you lock the door?"

"Ngh! Hah...no reason..." the infiltrator said, rubbing under their stolen nose dramatically. "Just powdering my nose...heh heh..."

Standard procedure when attempting to blend in among a replaced individual's kin: establish early a plausible explanation for any and all behavioral discrepancies or memory lapse. Sir Balder's wife wasn't planetside, so striking her publicly to establish implied marital dispute was right out. Implied drug use would have to suffice.

As it happened, it did.

The Brandywich pilot smirked. Lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "The good Baron hitting the nose powder already? Isn't it a little early, cousin?"

"I don't make a habit of taking drugs," the infiltrator lied, grinning half from the exquisite irony. "Just a little pick-me-up."

"Well, I can't blame you..." the Brandywich pilot said, patting his 'cousin' on the shoulder and venturing to the nearest urinal. "...party's gonna be dull..."

The Callidus Assassin turned on her heel and strode out. Muttered under her breath.

"Not too dull, I should think..."

Chapter 124: High Kings & Twisted Things

"They seriously let these commoners in?"

"What is Sir Didier thinking?"

"Age catching up to him, methinks."

"Or his insurance. They're supposed to be mercenaries. You know what the Belt of Iron is like. Maybe old Didier is craftier than we supposed..."

"No, no. I heard they brought Sir Brandon home in a wood box."

"Sir Brandon is dead?"

"...it can't be that simple, can it? A favor for a favor?"

"Maybe they're not mercenaries at all. Maybe they're spies from one of the Forges. All those cybernetics..."

"Which Forge, though? Urdesh? Kalibrax? Atar-Median? Graia?"

"Why no feet? Why those...stubby hooves? I would think a Forge world could build something better..."

A glass of red wine stopped at the lips. A thought derailed. Glint of light off wide, thick, round glasses.

The pilot in a green and cream jacket turned his head. Swirling his glass idly, he strode from the wide bay windows, back turned to the moonlit sea.

Circling around a group of gossiping nobles, the pilot leaned on shining metal guard rails. Piercing eyes looked down from the upper walkway, to the expansive ballroom. Traced the shape of the handful of guests waltzing lazily on the dancefloor, then the clumps milling around the perimeter amid marble pillars.

"...what...the hell?" he muttered under his breath, brows upraised in surprise.

A small group of figures entered the ballroom, clad in uniforms and ballgowns unlike in hue to any House of the Gal-Galon League. Off-comers without a doubt. But few could place the scheme, save perhaps from the First Legion Dark Angels.

Few, save one who knew the scheme from personal experience. Fewer still could identify not only the style of full-body augmetics, but each individual's make and model.

Third Prince Christophe Leclair furrowed his brow, scowling.

"What are replikas...?"

 

"-doing here? Who gave you commoners the right?"

Music wafted through the expansive ballroom. Harpists, flautists, and a string quartet performed at the far end of the room.

The space could comfortably host hundreds, not including guards. Presently, perhaps several dozen occupied it, on the ground floor and on the balconies that rimmed the room.

Many eyes turned toward the off-comers, and the trio of nobles that stood before them.

Elster narrowed her eyes, meeting the head man's gaze with steely resolve. Inclined her head fractionally. "...und Guten Abend to you as well, mein herr."

"You think this is a joke, peasant?" scowled the Knight pilot, a single short, dark hair falling out of place as he seethed. The scion of House Zeranor adjusted his purple and black jacket. "I asked what right you have to be here."

Careful, Natasha thought, casting a glance to her commander. Lazily took a glass of white wine offered her by a passing servant. He's trying to bait you. Remain cordial.

I know, Elster thought. She shrugged, shaking her head. "The honorable Herr Didier proffered us an invitation personally. If the matter is disturbing to mein herr's sensibilities, we last saw our host in the lobby."

Face reddening, the pilot stomped forward. Stopped perilously close to the replika commander, brow furrowed. Eyed her beast-hide cape with a sneer. "You think this is funny..." he rumbled, poking two fingers hard into her chest, "...barbarian?"

Groups of party-goers whispered to each other, attention rapt on the novel entertainment.

"Oi!" growled Ishtar, making to step forward. Fists clenched. "Hands off our-!"

"Not a good idea!" Breach whispered, tugging on the Storch's arm.

Natasha raised a hand in front of Ishtar. "Soldier," she said, casting a glance over her shoulder, "let our commander handle this."

"..." Elster looked down at the man's fingers. Briefly considered seizing and breaking the offending digits, on principle.

Careful, commander, Natasha thought, repeating herself more firmly. Furrowed her brow, glass to her lips. While some of these people will be our enemies in the war to come, no doubt, we don't want to alienate them by acting like savages. Discretion, valor, and all that...

"..." Elster's eyes rose. She locked her gaze with the pilot noble's.

Surreptitiously, she reached into his mind. Thoughts, unguarded. Superiority, unquestioned.

She wrapped mental hand around the deep, lizard-brain part of his cognition that governed Fear, and squeezed.

"...!" Beneath the withering gaze and psychic assault, the pilot blanched. Pupils dilated. Fight or flight response activated, sending a shiver up his spine. He gasped, snapping his mouth shut. It was all he could do to avoid crying out, or soiling himself. "...haaah...!"

Furtive whispers from the crowd.

Slowly, Elster raised her hand, and gently seized his wrist between thumb and index finger. The gestalt flinched at the touch.

"I suggest...you remove yourself from this barbarian's personal space, mein herr," she spoke, slowly and deliberately. Pulled his trembling hand away, then let it go. Lowered her voice, while adding a slight edge to her tone. "Before you embarrass yourself."

Staggering back into a pair of his confused fellows, the pilot swallowed, heart racing. "...I..." He sucked a breath, and stood up straight. Eyes staunchly refused to meet the replika's. "You...are not worth my time...p-peasant!" He turned on his heels and boldly strode away, in an effort to save face. "Come on! We're leaving!"

The nearby crowd tittered and giggled wryly.

"What's the matter, old boy?" a random party-goer called. "Running from an outworlder?"

Elster smiled. Turned to the crowd, voice raised. "Oh, it's nothing like that!" she said, apologetically, raising a hand. "We barbarin are known for our strong stench. I apologize if we offend the sensibilities of our betters."

The assembled gentry broke into refined chuckles. Half amused, and half relieved, that the mercenary offcomers had a sense of self-depreciating humor.

"..." Still trembling, the pilot and his companions used the distraction to withdraw.

For their part, Elster's children snickered or sighed in relief.

"Heh heh..." Ishtar breathed, covering her mouth, "good one, mom."

"...is it really funny?" Vanessa said, shoulders sagging, mouth turned in a nervous smile. "We might have just been thrown out..."

"I had no doubt our commander had it under control," Natasha said, swirling her glass. She strode up to her commander and patted her on the shoulder. I'm impressed. The practice paid off.

"Heh heh," Elster breathed, scratching the back of her head. I'm pretty sure Lilith learned to adopt a Death Glare when she was alive, during the war. Putting a little bioresonance behind it just seemed like a useful skill to hone.

"Ah, Magnifique! Making waves already!"

Replika and gestalt alike looked over, as a venerable gentleman approached. His green and cream jacket - ornately wrought by the finest clothiers - unbuttoned to display an immaculate cream shirt beneath. The breast pocket of his jacket embroidered with gold thread, in the shape of a solar crown. His wrinkled, artfully scarred skin a rich olive. His hair and short beard a shock of gray.

He grinned warmly, a contrast to the dour, dark-haired young man following after. Around them, party-goers whispered excitedly.

"Welcome to the party, ladies!" the old pilot said, arms outstretched. He extended a hand. "Dame Elster, correct? A pleasure to meet you!"

"Oh, uh, danke schon," Elster said, blinking. Shook the noble's hand. "Ja, I am Dame Elster, of the Zugvögal. To whom do I owe the pleasure, mein herr?"

"Don't be overly concerned, my lady," said the elder pilot, flashing a good-natured smile. "Call me Chrétian."

The youth at his back sighed, tucking a lock of long, black hair behind his ear. "My father is modest, Lady Elster," said Fifth Prince Ernest Leclair. He motioned to his patriarch. "You address his highness, Chrétian Leclair, High King of House Leclair."

The collection of replikas behind their commander's back gasped or blanched.

"Oh! Apologies, König!" Elster said, eyes widening. She bowed her head.

"Yes, we're deeply sorry, your highness!" Natasha said, rushing over and bowing at the waist. "Excuse our lack of formality."

"That's quite alright, ladies," Chrétian said, waving them down. He sighed, turning his head to look over his shoulder. "Ernest, my boy, all this bother is why I wanted to avoid coming out with my title. I finally find nice people who don't bow and scrap when they see me."

"Apologies, father," Ernest nodded, stepping back. He tucked his hands behind his back.

"Oh, I suppose it can't be helped," the High King sighed. He stepped back and patted his son on the shoulders. "Lady Elster, this bright ray of sunshine is my second-youngest, Prince Ernest."

"Mein herr," Elster said, bowing her head again at the youth. "A pleasure to meet you." She glanced at the ceiling. "Come to think of it, we encountered a...dandy looking fellow in your colors coming in from the garden."

"Charmed," Ernest said, nodding. His expression tired. "That would be my brother Dorian. He loves to...sniff the roses."

"König und Prinz," Elster said, motioning to the Kranich at her side. "Our company liaison."

"Natasha Crane," the Spy said, presenting her hand to the High King. A smile on her face. "A pleasure to meet your highness."

"The pleasure is mine, Ms Crane," Chrétian said, bending over to kiss the Kranich's knuckles.

"Oh ho ho!" Natasha laughed performatively, fanning herself. "You are a charmer, Herr Chrétian!"

"Well, since we're showing off children," Elster said, tugging at her collar. She waved her girls over. "Meine kinder, if you please..."

At some point, Meryl and Kite wandered off. The others looked between each other.

Shrugging, Dash stepped forward. Arms crossed. "Hey."

"This is Dash Starling," Elster said, patting the Star's shoulder. In a flash, she remembered the line they prepared in advance. "My, uh...step-daughter."

"Your highness," Dash said, nodding stoically. She reluctantly extended her hand.

"A strong and able soldier, I can tell," Chrétian said, shaking her hand. He smiled. "How'd you enter into this outfit, eh? You and your...sister?"

Ishtar and Breach approached, allowing the other Star to step away.

"My n-name's Breach. Breach, uh...S-Starling. Uh...we sort of...fell into it?" Breach said, scratching the back of her head. She shook the High King's hand nervously.

"What can I say?" Ishtar smirked, inclining her head forward. She proffered her arm. "I stole Breach's heart. Ishtar, your highness."

"Charmed beyond words," Chrétian said, kissing the Storch's knuckles. "You have a lovely dress."

"Danke schon, your highness," Ishtar chimed, bowing aggressively. She motioned behind her. "Vanessa and her team made it themselves."

Ever-present, eavesdroppers from the crowd whispered scandalously.

"Made it herself? How...common. Parochial, even."

"I suppose mercenaries must make do."

"A new Knightdom, remember. Don't have a proper household..."

The muttering guests withered beneath the eldest Eule's own death glare. Not through bioresonance, but through sheer contempt. She turned away, and strode to the head of the line.

"Greetings, Mein Konig," Vanessa said, picking up red skirt and performing a curtsy. She extended her hand. "I oversee my mother's household, and its domestic matters. For such matters as the Grande Ball, I had to see to our wardrobe personally."

"Very impressive, Ms Vanessa," the High King said, nodding. He kissed her knuckles. "I must ask, how many domestic staff do you command?"

Vanessa tilted her head to the side, thinking. She cast a smug glance to the crowd. "Oh...hundreds at this point, I think. We've entered a period of expansion as of late."

"Good show, young lady," Chrétian nodded, smiling. "Houses are built on the tireless labor of their staff."

The Eule turned to the younger Leclair. "Ernest, was it?" Vanessa said, curtsying to him. She smiled sheepishly. "Did...you happen to have a blond kinsman?"

"Well met," Ernest said, nodding. "You'll have to be more specific, Miss."

"Indeed, I have three blond sons," Chrétian said. Pointed to Ernest with a toothy grin. "Including this one! Don't let the dye job fool you! Hah hah!"

"..." Ernest sighed. Retained a neutral expression, face downcast.

"I see..." Vanessa said, smiling nervously.

"And this..." Elster said, hustling the shortest replika forward, "...is my granddaughter, Shahrazad. Say 'hallo', sweetie."

"H-hello, mein herr," Shahrazad breathed, hands clasped to her chest. She bowed at the waist. Her long, curly hair hung down from beneath her blue headscarf. As she looked up, light from the chandeliers glinted off the trio of red stars on her forehead. "N-nice to meet you."

"A pleasure, my dear," Chrétian said, squatting so he could meet her gaze at eye level. He smiled warmly, taking her hand and patting it gently. Lowered his voice. "Don't let all this formality scare you. Everyone is here to have fun."

"..." Shahrazad smiled. She could feel the sincerity in his aura. The warmth. Her mind brushed against his, and found behind the wafting emotions an iron box, locked tight. She tilted her head to the side, oxidizing fluid running cold.

No matter how jovial, nor how open, the High King of Leclair guarded his House's secrets well. The Kolibri remembered that the League of Gal-Galon were no strangers to hunting witches.

"Well, ngh....hah," Chrétian grunted, rising painfully on knees past their best years, "this old man has taken up too much of all your time. Enjoy the party, ladies." He turned to the replika commander. "Lady Elster, may I impose on you further? I would learn how you came into your Knighthood..." He gestured at her shoulders. "...and that gorgeous pelt. If it's not too much trouble."

"Oh!" Elster said, eyes widening. Fingers fingered the black-blue fur hanging from her shoulders. "Uh..."

Now's our chance to make connections, commander, Natahsa thought, patting her on the back. The Kranich smiled. "Oh, she'd love to, your highness!"

"Right, yes..." Elster nodded, glancing at the Spy. She stepped forward, and extended a hand. "Lead the way, mein herr."

"Magnifique!" Chretian cried, clapping his hands. He stood side by side with the replika commander. Gestured broadly. "Right this way, my lady! Ernest, perhaps you can show Dame Elster's daughters around."

"I...suppose," Ernest shrugged. He watched the two stride past, and looked to the other replikas. Settled on Dash. "Would you like to...?"

"I'm...going to shadow Elster," Dash said curtly, walking forward. Paused at the young pilot's side. "Maybe...you can give Shah company?"

"Uh..." Ernest looked over his shoulder at the retreating Star. When he looked forward again, other replikas began to scatter. He blinked down at the Kolibri. "..."

"...you've...been beyond the Ruinstorm?" Shahrazad said quietly, hunching her shoulders.

"The Ruin-...?" Ernest furrowed his brow, then nodded. Decided it wasn't worth the trouble asking how the little creature knew. "I have. Or at least been amidst it. Have you?"

The Kolibri nodded gravely. "There are many stories there."

"Hmm..." Ernest nodded, and offered his hand. "Yes. There are. I suppose...we have much to discuss."

They interlocked arms and walked away, seeking refreshments.

Good, Natasha thought, looking over her shoulder as she made to mingle. Sipped her glass with a smile. Pump him for all he can reveal, darling.

She paused, furrowing her brow. Felt a tickle at the edge of her perception.

The Spy arced her head up, looking at the upper level balcony.

Glint of glasses. A shock of brown hair. A flinch.

"..." Natasha locked eyes with the pilot in the green and cream jacket.

She smirked knowingly.

The pilot started. Disappeared in a wave of panic.

Natasha raised her glass at the absent pilot, and turned away.

Curioser and curioser. Someone's keeping a secret...

 

This is very bad...

Ducking around clumps of party guests, Prince Christophe Leclair passed his empty glass off to a waiting servant absentmindedly. Eyes scanned the second floor, seeking the telltale green and cream of his kinsmen.

He swallowed, heart racing. "..."

It was impossible.

Almost a decade, thousands of lightyears, a persistent Warp storm, and a mass murder stood between the pilot and those things. They shouldn't even be alive. Much less here, in Segmentum Pacificus. Much less here, at the Grande Ball.

Much less with not one, but two of their witches.

"Dammit, where are you?" Christophe breathed, squeezing between a group of guests and the large bay windows. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief, adjusting round glasses. Spied a set of open double doors, and jogged through.

Did they know? Did they know who he was? What he was?

Sparsely populated, the long gallery played host to a smattering of guests and servants stealing a brief respite from the noise and stimulation of the party. A line of windows overlooked the darkened bay, moonlight reflecting hazily on the black waters.

"...at least I was between campaigns when word came in. Hate to be called away during the fight. Imagine telling the Orks, 'sorry, lads, I have a prior engagement!'"

Eyebrows rising, Christophe slowed. Followed the sound of his brother's boisterous baritone, and the howl of laughter that followed.

"There you are," he huffed, patting his chest. "Albert. Brice."

Amid a cozy group of pilots, two men in green and cream stood in a recessed alcove.

"Hmm?" Brice said, turning his head. Chiseled features, olive skin, and brown, buzz cut hair stood out against white paneled walls. Jacket removed and hung over one shoulder, the Second Prince of House Leclair leaned lazily against a side table. Cream shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing toned muscles. "What's the matter?"

Adjusting his glasses, Christophe drew in close and clapped a hand on his other brother's shoulder. "Can I...speak with you two a moment?"

Surprised by the contact, the pilot with long, blond hair in a ponytail turned his head. Rosy, angular features set in profile against the dark windows. Framed next to the moon hanging in the sky, First Prince Albert Leclair's bright green eyes widened. He smiled. "Hmm? Speak with us?"

"Alone," Christophe said, lowering his voice. Inclined his head forward, so his glasses slid fractionally down his nose.

"Can it wait?" Albert chuckled, half-turning to regard the younger pilot. "We haven't seen our friends in House Zeranor since..."

His expression fell.

The Third Prince frowned, narrowing his eyes. "You both have to see this. It concerns us three, in particular. Only we will understand."

"Us three?" Brice grunted, rubbing his scalp on confusion.

Blinking, Albert's expression turned serious for a second. He shifted it to a smile, and chuckled. Turned to the other pilots. "Apologies, friends. Can you excuse us?"

The three turned on their heels, waving at the other pilots, before making for the double doors.

"What troubles you, Chris?" Albert said, voice low, adjusting his jacket. A quartered crest of the solar crown and fleur-de-lis on his breast pocket.

"Yeah," Brice said, jacket flapping behind him as he strutted in their wake. "We were just having fun."

Christophe pushed up his glasses, scowling. Mind racing, he motioned them along.

"It's better you see for yourself."

 

"Let us off 'ere, twist."

Bouncing and rumbling on root-choked terrain, ramshackle truck whined to a stop. Headlights cut through the treeline, casting a spiderweb of shadows on snaking boughs.

The passenger side door popped open. From interior lit only by dim, green LEDs, a lanky form hopped out. Half a row of toe-claws stuck out through worn leather shoes.

"Haah...roight," the shaggy figure growled, tucking shirt awkwardly into pants too short for his bowed legs. He scratched neck through his mane. "You twists get ye'selves to that gully over yonda, like we'z planned. 'm headin' in, bizness-like."

"Roight, boss," gurgled the figure formerly sandwiched between the exiting man and the driver. He hopped out, handing the 'boss' his wooden staff, topped with feathers and bone fetishes. Bent over, the hunch-backed man reached back inside with his flipper, pulling out a small wicker cage.

The chicken's white feathers gleamed in moonlight that filtered through the overhead canopy. It clucked disapprovingly.

"...'ey, what'ya doin', twist?" the 'boss' grumbled, turning around. He flashed his oversized canines. "We got a sche'ule!"

"Gotta feed da 'cargo', boss!" the hunchback mutant wheezed, flailing his free hand over his shoulder as he walked toward the rear. "Don' want 'im gettin' feisty, roight?"

At the word 'feed', the back of the truck began to rock violently. Inside, a wet, angry grumble.

"Naw, naw, ya mutie fool!" the 'boss' yelled, waddling after his subordinate. Mono-brow furrowed in consternation. He reached a long, hairy arm out and barred the other mutant's way. Cracked a crooked smile. "No need for that."

He patted the metal side of the truck. A growl issued from within, more ornery than before.

"Now tha' we'z 'ere, we keep 'im lean an' 'ungry," the 'boss' said, nodding his head. "Understand?"

The hunchback mutant looked up at his superior with bloodshot, watery eyes. Too-wide mouth contorted in a frown on his lumpy, hairless head. He cast a worried look at the truck. Shuddered, as the rocking and growling grew more intense. "...ya sure, boss?"

"Just back 'im up toward the house, like we planned," the 'boss' said, grinning wickedly. Pointed a clawed finger toward his subordinate. "Open the door w' the quick release. Then...floor it. Understand?"

The other mutant swallowed, and nodded. "A'roight. If ya say so."

"Gooood twist," the lanky mutant said, patting the other man on the hunch. He turned, and strode out to the front of the truck. Staff made divots in wet, grassy soil. "Wait until tha appointed time, twists. If ya don' 'ear back, let 'im loose!"

"We will," said the hunchback, climbing back inside with the suddenly very relieved chicken. The door slammed noisily shut. After a moment, the mutant poked his head out of the window. "And...enjoy tha party, boss!"

Shaking his ill-fitting shoes, the lanky figure took a perch on a high knot of roots. Cast his gaze across the darkened valley, and focused on the villa in the distance. On the cluster of giant machines flanking it. Staff planted firmly, free hand leaning on a twisted bough.

The Davinite priest grinned.

"Oh...I will, twist. And praise the Dark Gods."

Notes:

You can thank Dan Abnett and his Eisenhorn novels for the "colorful" mutant slang. Though it's probably 10,000 years too early. One would expect immense linguistic drift.

Chapter 125: Beautiful Stranger

"What's the point of even being here?"

"I don't know, these barbarian women are at least a change of pace..."

"No. I mean, why did we even come? It's all doomed anyway..."

"The Forge-aligned Houses had the right idea. Didn't send delegations at all."

"Their allegiance is already spoken for. Whichever way Urdesh, Atar-Median, and the others swing..."

Pursed lips stopped amasec. A tongue slipped through the seal, tasting drink.

Delicious. But forbidden. Even a light drink, too strong for replika constitution.

Clack. Clack.

"..." Natasha strolled on the periphery of a huddle. Ears (and mind) drank in conversation, in the way she couldn't drink her beverage.

Names and locations, if you please, the Spy thought, furrowing her brow and smirking wryly. I need actionable material. At this rate, I'll need to start asking questions directly. And I need more data, so as not to seem too...ignorant...

She stopped. Peeked around a broad-shouldered gentleman. Brows rose.

A man in burgandy jacket swirled his glass, brows furrowed beneath a black widow's peak. Eyes darted around. Not questing, as if for a lost friend or particular subject. Nor lingering, as if in aesthetic (or lustful) appreciation.

Selective. Scrutinizing. Suspicious. Eyed exits, guards, and other party-goers.

All while stepping calmly, deliberately. Feigned randomness. He drew near another clutch of guests, head turned away to seem oblivious. Ear turned to the conversation.

An eerie mirror for the Kranich's own activity.

The Brandywich pilot's eyes met the replika's. Froze.

Two covert operatives stared. Two predators, suddenly aware of each other's presence. Gauging threat, and intent.

"..."

"To think, I gave up training my nieces to come here."

"Did you hear about what happened at Isstvan? I heard some of the Legions sent to attack Lupercal's forces turned coat..."

"..." By habit, Natasha broke eye contact, though a fraction of a second too late. Silently, she cursed herself for lingering.

Turned to the group in close proximity, smiling.

"Sorry to interrupt," Natasha said, closing her eyes. "I couldn't help overhearing. Were you talking about the matter in Isstvan? We've actually operated in the Segmentum Obscurus the last few years. I might be able to elucidate some details..."

"Really? What luck!"

"By all means, do go on."

The Assassin masquerading as Sir Balder Brandywich watched the replika woman insinuate herself into a conversation. Blinked.

The Callidus half-turned, stalking past the group. Slowed. Not merely to hear what the cyborg had to say, but because of a sense of...unease. The Assassin looked over her shoulder. Glanced at the back of the replika's head.

Finger tugged performatively at stolen collar. Gloss black gemstone set in a ring glinted. Tiny, imperceptible muscle twitch.

Digital spy camera silently snapped a pict of the assembled group. Replika caught in profile at center frame. Data added to a growing collection.

 

"Out of the way, squire!"

Sidling along a wall, staring at her drink, the Eule snapped to attention. "Eh?"

Looked up just in time to see a pair of men barrel past a third, shoulders slammed purposefully. Her eyes focused on a shock of blond hair.

"Oof!"

Falling sideways into a wall papered in ornate blue patterns, a hand caught a white, molded fixture on a support beam. The young man looked down, checking to see if his spilled drink stained green and cream jacket.

"Hey!" Felix cried, looking up. Brow furrowed in indignation. "Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry," said one of the pilots in white and red, in a tone that betrayed he felt not sorry at all. Looked over his shoulder. "We don't pay attention to Armiger pilots."

"Yeah," said his companion. The Waite noble sneered. "We reserve attention for real warriors."

"B-but I'm not an Armiger pilot anymore!" Felix barked, gripping his glass. "I pilot the Dolorous Duty now!"

"Oh...right," said the first Waite pilot, looking away with a frown. He sipped his drink. "I forgot you Leclair types put all your scions through training suits."

"How embarrassing," said his companion, hiding a grin behind his hand. He turned away. "Doesn't matter what steed you ride, boy."

"Once an Armiger pilot," finished the other Waite, smirking and looking down his nose, "always an Armiger pilot."

Laughter followed as the men strode away.

"Nngh..." Felix grumbled, gritting his teeth. Eyes cast down, as he leaned, deflated, against the wall. "...dammit."

Clack. Clack. Clack.

"H-hey...are you okay?"

The Sixth Prince of House Leclair, head bowed, turned in surprise toward the voice. "...eh?"

His eyes widened fractionally.

Overhead gaslight glowed warm through long, straw-colored hair. Pale face framed by black, and bisected horizontally by a seam. Blue eyes, with pinpricks of electronic red, blinked at the young man.

"..." Felix's heart skipped a beat.

Vanessa leaned against the wall, roughly a meter away from the gestalt. Back against the wall, hands resting on her knees. She frowned in concern. "I...asked if you were okay."

"...y-yeah," Felix breathed, staring at the replika's face. "Why?"

"That was a beschissen thing they did," Vanessa said, scowling. Cast a dirty glance in the direction of the retreating pair, then looked back with a sympathetic smile. "That is to say, a...shitty thing. Pardon my language."

"...ah! No, I...I got that," Felix breathed, slumping forward. He smiled, scratching the back of his head. "I've been taught many languages. I must say...your pronunciation is good."

"Oh? Th-thank you..." Vanessa said, brows rising. Color rushed to her cheeks. "…"

The smile faded on the pilot's face. Color ran to his cheeks too. "..."

The two sharply stared at the ground. Frowned awkwardly.

Music wafted across the dance floor. Nearby, guests milled around a refreshment table loaded with glasses of amasec and plates of hors d'oeuvres.

"..." Felix clutched the half-empty glass close to his chest. Luckily, a white wine, so the spill on his jacket and yellow ascot wouldn't stain...too much.

Casting furtive glances at the gestalt, Vanessa laced her fingers together in her lap. "...guten abend, mein herr. I'm...Vanessa, of the Zugvögal. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh?" Felix said, snapping to attention. He swallowed, and nodded. "Right. Felix. Felix Leclair..." He averted his eyes, scratching his cheek. "...S-sixth Prince of House Leclair. And, uh...likewise to you."

"A Prince?" Vanessa breathed, eyes widening fractionally. She performed a curtsy. "Apologies, Mein Prinz. I didn't..."

"You don't have to..." Felix said, holding up his hands nervously. Deflated again, looked down at the floor. "I'm...nothing special, really. In terms of my House's line of succession, I'm the spare's spare's spare's spare's spare..."

"Still..." Vanessa said, smiling encouragingly, head bowed so she could look eye level with the gestalt, "...you're an important-sounding person, as far as I'm concerned. You pilot a Knight, after all..."

"...I suppose," Felix sighed, casting a furtive glance sideways at the replika. Stared down at his drink. "...merci..."

"...excuse my ignorance, Herr Felix," Vanessa said, sitting up, head resting against the wall. "Why...did those...flegelen call you an Armiger pilot, as if it were an insult?"

"Oh...heh heh, yeah," Felix said, cracking a weak smile. He raised his head, staring into space. "House Leclair...does things a bit differently, I suppose. Compared to...most other Knight Houses."

"How so?" Vanessa said, cocking her head. Hands at her side, pressed against the wall.

"...our forefathers were of the mind that Knights must be well-rounded," Felix said, nodding sharply. "Learned in a plethora of subjects. Strategy, history, physics, ballistics, language, rhetoric, art, music..."

"...dancing?" Vanessa said, raising an eyebrow.

"I...know a little of dancing, yes," Felix breathed, cupping both hands around his glass nervously. Mouth twisted in a quirky shape. "Do you?"

"One could say...I was born a dancer," Vanessa said, smiling. She looked away sharply. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"...well," Felix said, casting a furtive glance sideways, "this wide education included...the ability to pilot the Knight suits, both Major and Minor." He smiled slightly. Raised an index finger. "My...let's say my many greats grandfather once said, 'a squire can't be trusted to meld with the Majoris, without first being blooded in a Minoris. They cannot be a bond-holder without being a bondsman, nor appreciate the high view without knowing the battleground they tread'." He lowered his hand, and looked at the replika. "As a practical matter, and to foster proper perspective, we in House Leclair all spend the first few years of our careers piloting Armigers."

"Sounds sensible to me," Vanessa said, nodding. She furrowed her brow. "This is considered...unusual among Knight Houses?"

"Very much so," Felix breathed, shoulders sagging. "In most Houses, even within the League, who gets to pilot what 'grade' of suit is firmly a matter of lineage, title, and breeding. The House's ruling family or families have a monopoly on Major frames. The Minor frames - the Armigers - are relegated to lesser or branch families, or else to non-noble subordinates. Each House and system have a different scheme, especially where multi-House worlds are concerned. But...tha'ts how it's commonly done."

"Oh...so..." Vanessa said, brow furrowed in concentration, "...most Houses just...have their most highborn pilots start in a...big motoren?" She frowned. "It's not...normal for someone to start in an Armiger and work their way up?"

"It happens, sometimes," Felix shrugged. "A pilot from a branch family marries into a more prominent one, and gets a new suit as a dowry...or simply so the family they're joining isn't embarrassed. An Armiger pilot might earn a Major suit through extreme valor, glory, or service...albeit often posthumously, awarded to the hero's next of kin. Or...after the loss of many highborn pilots, to reconstitute a Lance at a time of need." The young man rubbed the back of his neck. "But it's...considered exceptional, outside our House. Mythical, even, for some Houses. Like an Armiger pilot needs to really prove they deserve to join with one of the greater machines..."

"How long did you pilot your Armiger?" Vanessa said, raising her head. She tucked a long, straw-colored lock of hair behind her ear. "If you don't mind me asking..."

"Five years," Felix said, nodding. Sighed. "I just started piloting the Duty, before we prepared to come here. The Dolorous Duty, that is."

Not that the Duty didn't constitute its own kind of test. A 'Final Exam'.

"Sounds to me like you earned it," Vanessa said, smiling warmly. "You should be proud of yourself...Felix."

"...th-thank you...Vanessa" Felix said, flashing a brief, uncertain smile. Blushed slightly.

He bowed his head, frowning.

"I just...don't know if I feel proud..."

 

"A Sphiranx? Truly?"

Bubbly drinks. Roar of conversation. Stifled gasps.

The replika commander tasted her drink. Cast a curious glance.

"Ja," Elster said, cocking an eyebrow. "You've heard of these creatures?"

"Hah!" Chrétian laughed, shaking his head. "Heard of them? I fought one myself, as it happens. Devilish creatures. I should have recognized the fur."

"Really, Herr Chrétian?" Elster said, eyebrows rising. "What are the odds..."

"The odds get a lot better when you're as wide-traveled as...well, both of us, I suppose," said the High King.

"So she's telling the truth, old boy?" said a bald pilot in Waite white and red, stroking his gray mustache. "Not...that I wish to impugn the Lady's reputation, of course..."

"It is difficult to believe any creature, even a Psyker, could get the best of the Astartes," said an older woman in the purple and black of House Zeranor. Her face, wrinkled and criss-crossed with tiny scars, including one across a milky eye. "Were they not engineered to be unbreakable?"

Well..., Elster thought, to herself, eyeing the ceiling. Mind drifted briefly to a certain Iron Warriors Captain. She smirked. ...hardly unbreakable.

"Oh, the feats Lady Elster described are all very real," Chrétian said, nodding curtly. "We had a few of the War Hounds...sorry, the World Eaters, with us at the time. The 4th Belt Magaocracy set their Sphiranx ally on them, as a last ditch effort to stem the tide. Very nearly did us all in. Those felines have the ability to slip into even the most well-guarded minds. I suppose none of the Legions would admit to that sort of subversion being possible..."

"Fascinating...did it turn its influence on you, Herr Chrétian?" Elster said, narrowing her eyes. "If it could subvert the senses of a Knight pilot, could it not have caused extreme damage?"

"It could, and did," Chrétian nodded, frowning. "It worked its influence first on our Armiger pilots. The squires didn't have a chance. Started shooting our own infantry and tanks. Between them and the chain-axes of the World Eaters...cieux miséricordieux..." He frowned sickly.

"Typical Armiger pilot behavior..." the old woman said, shrugging. She frowned, holding up a hand. "Ah! Apologies, Sir Chrétian, I didn't..."

"Oh, it's alright," Chrétian said, waving her off. "As it happens, the Sphiranx turned her talents on me, too. If it wasn't for the Ancestors, I might not have shaken it off..."

"The...Ancestors?" Elster said, cocking her head to the side.

The pilots looked at the replika quietly. "..."

"...oh, it's...it's nothing, my lady," Chrétian laughed, waving his hand. He slapped his knee. "Anyway, the Ancestors sensed the intrusion in my mind, and centered me again. Reminded me where and when I was. From there, it was just a matter of, uh...rallying the Bondsmen, as it were."

"Ah, of course," said the Waite pilot with the mustache. He closed his eyes and nodded, knowingly. "With the Bond, it wouldn't matter what they were seeing..."

"...?" Elster looked between the two men quizzically.

The Zeranor pilot huffed, smirking at the replika. "It must all sound daft, doesn't it, chère? All this Knightly talk of ghosts and bonds. Positively superstitionist, no?"

"...a bit, yes," Elster said, smiling sheepishly.

"Anyway," Chrétian said, coughing into his fist, "what, uh, happened next? You were telling us about the bloody creature taunting you?"

"Oh, ja," Elster nodded. She leaned against the windowsill. "It did."

"About what, I wonder?" the old woman said, swirling her glass. "And how did a normal woman survive this cat's blandishments, without the aid of a Throne Mechanicum or Astartes conditioning?"

"...with great difficulty, Madame," Elster said, nodding to the Zeranor pilot. "...and as for taunting...well..."

I can't very well admit it taunted me about being a pawn of Vashtorr, now can I? she thought, grimly. "..."

"Well, out with it, Lady," said the Waite pilot, gesturing with his glass of amasec. He chuckled. "What did it say? What did it show you?"

"..."

"...oh, she doesn't need to specify," Chrétian said, smiling. "It's quite alright, Lady Elster."

"Really now, old boy!" said the Waite pilot, looking to the Leclair High King. "That's the best part!"

"He's right, Sir Chrétian," said the Zeranor pilot, narrowing her eyes. "We can't be left without the juicy details..."

"It's because it's so...juicy..." Chrétian said, frowning. Crossing his arms, he held up one finger. "When a Psyker plays with your mind, they do it by exploiting your deepest fears, attachments, and insecurities." He motioned to the replika. "Whatever Lady Elster saw, it was deeply personal, and thus...none of our business."

"..." Elster blinked. Smiled, bowing her head fractionally. "Danke, Herr Chrétian."

The High King smiled slyly. "My pleasure, Lady."

"Such a shame..." the Zeranor pilot sighed, shaking her head.

"..." Tasting her drink, Elster eyed the disappointed pilots. She raised one finger. "I'll divulge one thing: when I had it cornered, the Sphiranx garbed itself in the form..." She inclined her head forward fractionally. "...of the only two people I ever gave my heart to..."

"Oh my!" the old woman gasped, covering her mouth. "How vile!"

"A dirty trick, yes," said the Waite pilot, nodding as if he understood.

"Ah...that would do it, yes," Chrétian breathed, nodding because he did understand.

He held up his glass. Smiled sadly.

"I suppose that makes two of us..."

 

"How did they get here?"

High above the dance floor, three figures in green and cream stared down. Eyes darted between figures spread out across the ballroom. Backs hunched, brows furrowed.

The second-eldest gritted his teeth.

"We destroyed them all, didn't we?" Brice said, olive hands gripping the silver railing. "The Compliance Fleet, the Iron Hands, and House Leclair? Or do I misremember our victory?"

"You'll recall plenty got away, back on Kitezh," Christophe said, pushing up his glasses. He eyed the Kranich warily, frowning. "After what happened, we weren't exactly in a position to pursue further. It shouldn't be surprising others might...slip through the cracks."

"Those bastards...to think what they did to..." Brice grumbled, frowning. He pushed down painful memories. "How're they here, though?"

"That's the million Throne question, isn't it?" Christophe said, averting his gaze from the dance floor. Overhead light glinted off his glasses. "Just surviving these many years, highly unlikely. That they're here, now..."

"What was Didier thinking?" Brice huffed. Crossed his muscular arms. "Does he know?"

"Not even father knows," Albert said, flatly, startling his juniors. He leaned on the railing, eyes drinking in the scene. Voice even. "We didn't really get a chance to regale him about the Eusan campaign. Not after what happened. Not after..."

"Even if we had, he probably wouldn't remember," Christophe shrugged. Glanced at the other two. "Exterminated - or allegedly exterminated - cyborgs are a dime a dozen. Especially for a pilot as storied as him."

"Dammit!" Brice seethed, struggling to keep his voice down. Eyes fixed to his right, staring at the refreshment table, and the figures conversing in line. A pair of yellow-haired figures, in too-cozy proximity. "One of them is with Felix! Chris!" He tore his gaze away to look at his brother, pointing a meaty finger. "Which kind was that? It's not a spy, is it?"

"Not sure," Christophe said, walking around Albert to look down. Adjusted his glasses. "The hair is throwing me off...and it's been such a long time."

"Did they change their hair?" Brice said, hunched bitterly. Eyes fixed on the machine-harlot laughing alongside his baby brother. "Could they?"

"The Eusan Nation didn't, if I remember correctly," Christophe said, finger tapping his lips pensively. "The Eusan Empire did. But I'm pretty sure that's a Nation model."

"..." Albert turned his head, studying the replika with long, straw-colored hair. Glanced the other direction, toward a figure he almost missed previously. "It's one of those all-purpose menials, I think." He pointed toward a shock of blue hair across the way, mingling alongside an auburn-haired model in a black jacket. "She has the same frame as that one."

"Not a spy model, huh?" Brice grumbled, unconvinced. "Or a witch?"

"..." Christophe eyed his olive-skinned brother a moment. Then pointed down. "The 'witch-spy' is over there. And there's a shorter 'witch' that way...with Ernest."

"Damn," Brice breathed, gritting his teeth. He popped his knuckles. "We need to do something."

"Well, that's obvious," Christophe said, upraising a palm. "But what? You understand my concern now, yes?"

"Agreed," Albert said, curtly. Eyes rose, staring into space. "We can't remain idle."

"So...Al," Brice said, opening and closing his hand. Eyes on his elder. "How do we play this? We need to tell dad."

"No." Albert stood up straight. Adjusted his jacket. Expression stoic. "Not yet."

"What?" Brice said, scowling in confusion. "Why?"

"You and Chris keep an eye on them," Albert said. Looked between the two. "Be prepared to go to father, or Sir Didier."

"And you?" Christophe said, cocking an eyebrow. He leaned away from the railing, feeling the Kranich's eyes drift toward him again. Shivered, as he felt her mind brush against his, playfully. "What...w-what's your plan?"

"Whatever it is, I'm with you," Brice said, clenching his fist.

"..."

Albert adjusted his collar. Fiddled with his ponytail.

Mind awash with memories of that night, almost ten years ago. Fixed on that enigmatic phrase. That phrase that persisted through it all. Lodged in his mind like a glass shard, along with the sound of laughter.

'Le Noir'.

He clenched his fist, and nodded once.

"I'll have a chat with their leader, first."

 

Ding-ding-ding!

"Lords, ladies, and honored guests! May I have your attention, please!"

Music faded. Laughter and conversation subsided. Heads turned to the far end of the ballroom.

Scarred fingers deposited crystal glass and silver spoon on a waiting tray. Servant in gray and blue bowed and withdrew.

"My friends," called Sir Didier, smiling, arms upraised, "now that we've granted all our dear colleagues opportunity to make fashionably late entrances..." He paused, letting the crowd get their sensible chuckles out of the way. Black ocular lenses, framed in glinting platinum, surveyed the gathering. "...the 10th Gal-Galon League Grande Ball may commence in earnest!"

Claps filled the air.

"...thank you, thank you..." Didier said, waving the crowd down. His smile turned bittersweet. "Whatever happens, my friends...I wish us all to remember our history. Oh, I won't bore us with the details. We...that is, most of us...already know the stories. Of invaders, blackguard, Old Night, and the uniting of the League against our common foe. Let us remember that our Houses fought, side-by-side, against enemies that bedeviled us for a thousand years. Fought side-by-side, on Gal-Galon." He took a deep breath. "...our forebears earned their victory together. Never forget that..."

Under his breath, he muttered, "...no matter what happens..."

"..."

Dozens of guests, resplendent in their finery, shifted awkwardly in place. A cough punctuated the silence.

Rallying, the Regent of Fadehome stood taller.

"But look at this old man, spoiling the mood," Didier said, removing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and daubing his brow. "Forgive me, friends. The...Crusade weighs heavy on us all." He smiled, folding the cloth and stuffing it back. "Enough melancholy! For now, let us dance! Come, come, everyone!"

Tension released, guests laughed in relief, and strode forward. Floor clacked with an endless procession of shoes...and hooves.

Two blond wallflowers shifted uneasily.

The replika glanced sidelong at the gestalt. "...would you like to dance?" Vanessa asked, smiling cautiously. Extended a hand.

"Oh? Ah!" Felix swallowed, staring down at the white, artificial hand. Color rushed to his cheek. He nodded, and took it. "A-alright!"

Vanessa stood at full height, beaming. Seamed cheeks turned rosy. "Come on!"

Nearby, Elster watched her eldest Eule drag the young man off into the dance floor. The Mother of Machines smirked, breathing, "Atta girl..."

"I should say the same thing for my lad," Chrétian chuckled softly, shaking his head. He looped his arm under the replika commander's. "Shall we join the festivities, my lady?"

"Oh...?" Elster said, turning to the aging gestalt. She glanced at the floor, pensively.

Well, she thought, Ariane told me not to hold back on her account.

She smiled. "Very well, mein herr. Why not?"

"Magnifique!" the High King cried, leading her forward.

"I'll stay here," Dash called to them, from her place leaned against the wall. She flinched, as an arm curled around her elbow. "Eh?"

"Come, Dash," Natasha said, trying to pull the Star along. "I feel it's been ever so long since the 'Ur-Kranich' danced, and I...eh?"

Dash planted her hooves. "Not gonna happen. I'm here to keep watch, not dance. Besides, Sam's back home. If I'm dancing with anyone, it's her..."

"Oh, you're no fun," Natasha said, letting go with a huff. She raised a hand, shaking her head. "Who will dance with me, then?"

"Ahem."

Star and Kranich turned. The Spy's eyes widened fractionally.

A (seeming) man in burgundy extended a hand, palm upraised. Dark hair, widow's peak.

"May I have this dance, Ms...?" said the Callidus Assassin, her stolen face contorted in a genteel smirk.

The Kranich eyed the assassin-come-pilot up and down. Alarm bells in her mind. And yet...

...what kind of spy would I be, she thought, eyes half-lidded seductively, if I let a little danger get in the way of infiltration? And my, aren't we bold?

"...Crane," Natasha said, extending gloved hand to take the 'gentleman's'. A smile on her face. "Natasha Crane. Zugvögal liaison."

"Brandywich," lied the Callidus assassin, kissing the replika's knuckles. Smirk as prominent as ever. Careful eyes as probing as subtlety allowed. "Sir Balder Brandywich, of House Brandywich."

"Charmed," Natasha said. As the two turned toward the dance floor, she looked over her shoulder. "Dash. Don't wait up."

"...sure," the Star shrugged, leaning back against the wall.

She eyed the shady gestalt warily.

 

"Un. Deux. Troix."

Though sparsely populated, the ballroom filled with paired guests. Hands clasped hands, or rested on shoulders and hips.

On cue, musicians strummed up their bows and filled woodwinds. Tambourines, drums, and cymbals joined in. A piece began to play, carefully husbanded from humanity's youth.

In unison, a ballroom of dancers bowed elegantly to one another. Then, began an energetic waltz.

Twirling. Stepping. Swaying. A whirlwind of practiced motion.

"..."

"...you don't need to worry about stepping on my toes, you know."

Felix blushed, staring at his clumsy feet. At the elegant, white hooves that stepped perfectly in time with the music. "...sorry. I'm...out of practice."

"It's alright," Vanessa said, patting the gestalt's shoulder reassuringly. Smiled, when he looked up. "Just...clear your head. Let your body remember its lessons."

"...where did you...learn to dance?" Felix said, nodding nervously. He stared at the curves of the replika's face. The exotic seam, and her warm expression.

"...you...wouldn't believe me if I told you," the Eule chuckled nervously, averting her gaze.

Felix raised his arm in time with the music, as much to his partner's silent prompting through her hand as to his own muscle memory. She twirled in place under his arm.

"..." His eyes widened. Her long, straw-colored hair trailed after her. Her form perfectly poised.

When she settled back into place, the young Knight pilot swallowed.

"However you came upon it," Felix breathed, rotating around her with a warm smile, "you dance very well, Vanessa."

"...danke," Vanessa breathed. Smiled. "You're not half bad yourself, Felix."

The two blushed. Lost in each other's eyes.

"..."

"So..."

Hand in hand, two covert operatives circled one another. Predators, sizing each other up.

"So?" the disguised Assassin said, glancing in false innocence. As if admiring the replika's non-standard beauty. To be fair, the cyborg WAS pretty.

Natasha leaned in, voice lowered. "Oh, let's not be coy," she said. Eyes darted over the 'man's' shoulder, eyeing exits, and potential backup. "Game recognizes game. And you, Sir...you're good."

"...hmm," said the false Balder Brandywich. Inside, the assassin's mind raced. Assessed threat. She smirked. "...likewise, Ms. 'Crane'."

"What's your angle, herr Brandywich?"

"You first."

"It's just as I said in my introduction," Natasha said, smiling. "A mercenary, looking which way the wind is blowing. The only hitch is a better-than-average sneak in her commander's entourage. Terribly dull, I know."

"Oncoming storms have a habit of creating wind, it's true," the Assassin nodded, head leaned back fractionally.

And I wouldn't exactly call you merely 'better-than-average', the Callidus thought, smirking.

"Any advice, for navigating these treacherous tides?" the Spy said, narrowing her eyes. "One 'professional' to another?"

Looking down slyly at the replika, the false Knight pilot leaned forward. Whispered in her ear, a sensual expression on her lips, to disguise intent to onlookers. "When you're choosing sides, choose very carefully. If you can't...best to bow out of this contest entirely. Everyone plays for keeps."

"I'll take that under consideration," Natasha whispered. She pressed a hand to her cheek and laughed aloud. "Oh ho ho! Sir Brandywich, you charmer!"

"I try," the Callidus said aloud, casting shameless glances to onlookers. When attention dissipated, she turned back, voice lowered again. "Since I furnished advice, a question?"

"You may ask," the Spy nodded. "I might even answer. The answer, itself, might even be honest."

"Who, or what, is the 'Ur-Kranich'...Ms. Crane?" said the false Brandywich. A knowing look cast the replika's way.

"Hmm. Attentive, too," Natasha said, impressed. She inclined her head forward fractionally, eyes closed. "...a foolish old woman, who put too much trust in her handlers." Eyes fluttered open, meeting the Assassin's gaze. "Pray you don't make the same mistake...Sir Balder."

"..." The Callidus assassin's smile disappeared. She looked over the replika's shoulder. Her oh-so-rare play, spoiled by melancholy reality.

She thought mournfully of the Temple. Of the childhood stripped from her. Of the ignominious end no doubt awaiting her.

"...I'll...take that under consideration..."

"..."

A dour young man in green and cream danced with a diminutive replika.

Shahrazad, smiling, let herself ride on the waves of jubilant energy pervading the space.

"..." For just a moment, Ernest Leclair permitted himself a small smile. Dark thoughts banished, momentarily, by a young woman's joyful expression.

"..."

"Ah...apologies, my lady..."

"I should apologize, mein herr," Elster said, glancing up and down. Revolved with her partner awkwardly. "Is this not to his highness's liking?"

"Non, non! It's...quite alright," Chrétian said, rotating around her awkwardly. He stooped, allowing her to twirl him. Silently felt grateful the replika was his equal in height. "Just...unused to following, is all. I'll get the hang of it."

"Sorry," Elster said, giving a weak smile, "this is how I learned. I lead, and my partner follows. Knowing I would potentially attend the Grande Ball, we should have practiced the reverse."

"Ah...I see," Chrétian said, settling back into a regular step. He sighed, trying not to betray too much disappointment. "Who's the lucky man, may I ask?"

"..." Elster blinked, then shut her eyes with a smile. "Her name is Ariane. Ariane Yeong. The most beautiful woman I've ever known. We served together on the same ship."

"..." Chrétian blinked back. Then chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Muttered, "oh, you old fool. You never had a chance."

"...sorry to disappoint you, mein herr," Elster said, hanging her head apologetically.

"Oh, it's quite alright, my lady," Chrétian said, smiling broadly. Spun around with a light step. "Forgive me. An old man gets lonely, when the mother of his sons is gone."

"My condolences," Elster nodded, frowning. "When did she...?"

"Almost ten years ago," the High King breathed. Raised his head fractionally. "Do you see your lovely lady often?"

"Never often enough," Elster sighed. Glanced at the floor, eyes narrowed. "The war...and other things...keep us apart."

"Oh, I knew the feeling, even when Faustine was with us," Chrétian nodded. He smiled reassuringly. "Keep her safe. And don't let go. Not for this war, or for anything."

"..." Elster smiled. "You, mein konig, understand it very well."

As they twirled, gestalt and replika closed their eyes, by silent, mutual agreement.

Each allowed the other to pretend they were in the arms of someone else. In other places, and better times.

Chapter 126: And How My Thoughts They Spin Me 'Round

Click. Brrrrr.

Dn-dn-dn-dn-dn.

Click. Brrrrr.

Dn. Dn-dn. Dn. Dn-dn-dn-dn.

Click. Brrrrr.

Pick strummed strings, while black hand fingered the frets. Head bobbed in time with the beat. Bass notes filled the limousine's plush interior.

Leg propped up on the armrest, the Fledermaus's hoof clicked a switch. The window to her left slid automatically down. Salty air rushed in.

Knock knock.

"Hey! You, in there!"

"Huh?" Marceline said, stirring from her reverie. Looked out the window. Eyes peeked through a part in her heavy bangs.

"Are you a guest?" grumbled a silhouette against the parking lot floodlights. The household guard hefted a laslock. "Why aren't you inside?"

"Yeah," Marceline said, lazily. Wiggled her fingers dramatically. "Didn't want to go. Not really 'party' material." Rested her hand on her bass. "That a problem?"

"..." the guard turned, so his disgusted sneer became visible in profile. He made to leave. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't cause trouble. We're watching."

"Cool," Marceline said, turning back to look at the ceiling of the vehicle. Stared at the frame of the closed sunroof.

The guard paused, then grumbled over his shoulder. "And for Blaise's sake...pluck the strings, you...filthy child. I can hear your sloppy work from out here."

"..." Marceline watched the man leave from the corner of her eye, then looked down at the instrument. Instead of lazily drawing the pick across the strings, which produced a scratchy sound, she plucked it. The note rang clearer. More controlled. "Hmm..."

Dn. Dn-dn-dn. Dn-dn.

So absorbed in consciously working the strings, the Fledermaus almost missed the dark shape pass across the righthand windows.

"Eh?" Marceline said, sitting up. She craned her neck to look through the window dividing the driver's side from the passengers. Dissatisfied with the view, she looked up at the ceiling.

Click. Brrrrrrrrrrrr.

Beneath pale floodlights, the makeshift parking lot situated at the far side of a hedgemaze lay deserted. Only the occasional, bobbing glow-globes of patrolling guards broke the stillness. Their shines winked in and out as they walked past ornate ground vehicles. Otherwise, the lot remained vacant.

Save the trudging, bow-legged shape sneaking between the cars.

The Fledermaus's brown hair popped out from the sunroof. Hidden eyes searched the dark. She spotted the figure.

Its furry mane and threadbare suit jacket almost blended with the shadows. It leaned heavily on a staff. Looked around, not thinking to check the limo it passed, before going prone. The figure crawled amid hedge-roots, slipping into the maze.

"..." Marceline blinked. Glanced sideways, to the bobbing glow of the guard who accosted her earlier. Then back at the place the figure disappeared.

She shrugged, resting an arm on the limousine roof.

Not my problem.

 

"...why did all these people come? Given, you know...all that's about to happen..."

Partners revolved around one another at a relaxed pace. Mood tinged by a slow, bittersweet melody.

Heavy breath. Sad smile.

"...it's because of what's on the horizon," Chrétian Leclair said, swaying gently with the beat, "that they were so eager to attend. Despite all the danger. Despite the...implicit threat of betrayal."

"How so?" Elster said, glancing around at party guests enthralled by dance and each other's company. "Are they so blind? They're warriors, aren't they?"

"Most...have never truly known what it's like," the High King said, eyes darting around purposefully. "To fight a near-peer. Most too young by half to even remember the war against the Galok, which this Ball celebrates. For the last half of the Great Crusade...the Imperium had few foes that truly challenged them, in a way that could not be countered by..." He sighed. "...simply throwing more resources at the problem until it went away."

"Foes like the Rangda?" Elster said, looking at her dance partner.

"..." Chrétian cocked an eyebrow. "Just so. I'm surprised you know of them."

"In passing," the replika commander said, shrugging. "Who else, before Horus himself, challenged the Imperium in a real way?"

"Ullanor," Chrétian said, inclining his head back fractionally. "The Ork Empire at Ullanor. A force so immense in its scale, and so terrible its Warboss, the Emperor Himself fought alongside Horus to beat them." He huffed. Smirked. "I was there, you know. On Ullanor, when father and son last fought...together."

"Congratulations, herr Chrétian," Elster nodded, lips upturned in a small smile. "I'm sure it was glorious. You should be proud."

"Oh, no doubt, it was. And I am," Chrétian nodded. Closed his eyes, and smiled sadly. "But it's...a bittersweet victory..."

Elster waited. When the High King wasn't forthcoming, she nodded soberly.

"...I'm...intimately familiar with that feeling..."

"..."

"...did I tell you you're beautiful?"

The Storch huffed, smirking. "Only twenty times tonight."

Breach blushed. Smiled. "I mean it. You're the most beautiful woman in this room, and I don't care who knows."

"..." Color rushed to Ishtar's cheeks. She averted her gaze, embarrassed. Eyed other dancers, who cast glances in her direction. "...as a Storch...I'm not...used to this."

"Being beautiful?" Breach said, swaying back and forth with her. "Because I h-have news for you..."

"Being seen," Ishtar groaned, hunching forward slightly. Leaned into the Star, voice lowered. "At least...not like this."

"Does it make you happy?" Breach whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

"..." Ishtar blushed. Smiled slightly, shivering. "...yeah. I guess it does." She snickered, punching the Star's shoulder affectionately. "You make it easier, you goofball!"

"Heh heh!" Breach said, bringing up their clasped hands and kissing the Storch's knuckles. "Glad I'm doing something right..."

"..."

Kite glanced around, barely paying attention as she danced.

"..." Meryl frowned. Reached up and poked the side of the Star's head. "Hey. Eyes front."

"Ow!" Kite said, shaking her head. Looked down at her partner. "What gives?"

The Eule leaned in. Lowered her voice. "I don't mind sharing our bunk with someone else..." She met the Star's stare, eyes narrowed. "But don't forget. You're dancing with ME. Pay attention to ME."

"..." Kite blinked. Nodded cooly, chuckling. "Sorry, sorry. I haven't forgotten." She reached up, and threaded black fingers through locks of blue hair. "I'm not abandoning you."

Meryl puffed her cheeks. Then smiled. Closed her eyes and leaned her face into the Star's hand.

"Du hast verdammt recht..."

"..."

"You are troubled, herr."

Head bowed to look at his dance partner, the dour Fifth Prince nodded. "...yes."

Shahrazad frowned. Light glinted red off her forehead stars. "Is it the prospect of killing your fellow humans?"

"Alas, no," Ernest said, shaking his head. "That...is a concern long ago expired." He glanced across the dance floor, through a sea of slow-spinning colors.

Two blond-haired guests swayed gently in each other's arms. Eyes locked together.

The Eule closed her eyes, and pressed herself to the gestalt's chest. Felix flinched, eyes widening in surprise. Looked around nervously, face flush. Finally, he wrapped his arms around the replika.

"..." Ernest smiled. It faded just as quickly. He stared at the Sixth Prince. "...fortune smiled on my brother Felix. He's spent his career thus far fighting Xenos. Barely any human blood is on his hands, and he earned it exclusively against enemy combatants."

"It was not so with you, herr Ernest?" Shahrazad said softly. Brows furrowed. She already read the texture of the answer on his aura.

"No," Ernest said, shaking his head. Looked forward, over the Kolibri's head. "My stint with the Dolorous Duty - our proving ground for pilots freshly come of age - pitted me against...recidivists. Rebels. And the Duty's armaments...do not deal a kind death."

"I'm sorry," the Kolibri said. She looked down at the floor. A pained expression on her face. "...I'm guilty of something too. Harm done...by saving someone's life..."

The pilot cocked his eyebrow. "A curious twist," Ernest said. "Who was it?"

"A...Xenos," Shahrazad said, lowering her voice. Cast glances around. Leaned in to whisper. "An Aeldari..."

"Ah," Ernest nodded, knowingly. "Those of the Eldar race are said to be capricious and crafty. Left alive, it will doubtless cause mischief..."

The Kolibri shook her head. "No, it's more than that," Shahrazad said, eyes downcast. She squeezed the gestalt's hand. "I...know for a fact he'll cause immeasurable harm, left to his own devices."

"How do you know?" Ernest said, neutrally.

Because the triplets told me, Shahrazad thought, to herself. A knot formed in her insides. My daughters foretold a future of pain and slavery, if he isn't slain. And soon. That...'dark kin' of the Ulthuan Eldar.

But, of course, she couldn't very well reveal that.

"...I just...know," Shahrazad said finally. Stared at the floor.

"I see," Ernest said, nodding. Looked up, to stare into space again.

"...it's all," the Kolibri said, frowning, "going to get worse. Isn't it? We've both seen the shape of things to come, behind the Ruinstorm. It'll only get worse from here. Right?"

Ernest inhaled. Exhaled.

Thought of worlds ravaged by artillery, orbital bombardment, and chemicals. Fields of crumpled war machines, and mountains of rubble. Entire biospheres put to the torch, until smoke blotted out the sun for years. Rad blights and seeker-plagues.

Thought of the orbital plates of Terra - gleaming marvels of engineering - disassembled, so they couldn't be unmoored as weapons against the Throneworld. Thought of countless wonders, and lives, forever lost as the war intensified.

Ernest thought of Emeraldus. Imagined her burning. A dark pall settled on his weary bones.

"Yes. That's...what I'm afraid of..."

 

"Ah! There you are, my boy!"

Conversation pervaded the ballroom, musicians on break between sets. Guests cycled back to the periphery, breathless and foot-weary.

Stood stoically by a window, a man with a long, blond ponytail eyed his House's patriarch.

"Father," Albert said, curtly. He eyed his High King's companion with only the outward hint of suspicion.

Elster met his gaze neutrally. "..."

"Albert, my boy, meet Dame Elster, Knight of Caliban and commander of the Zugvögal," Chrétian said, gesturing to the replika. He smiled, gesturing to the pilot. "Lady Elster, my eldest son and Heir to House Leclair, Prince Albert."

"Guten abend, Herr Albert," Elster nodded, offering a handshake. "A pleasure to meet you."

"..." Albert glanced down at the hand. Reluctantly, he shook it. "...likewise." He turned to the High King. "Father, may I...speak to Lady Elster alone for a moment?"

"Hmm?" Elster said, inclining her head back slightly.

"Eh?" Chrétian's brows rose. He frowned, confused. "Whyever for, my lad?"

"...forgive me, father," Albert said, flashing a small smile to the High King. "I know there are a multitude of fellow Knights you wish to converse with. I just thought..." Eyes turned to the replika. "...I'd entertain the Lady Zugvögal in your stead. Perhaps...discuss matters of House business..."

"Mmm...I don't know, son," Chrétian hummed, stroking his gray beard thoughtfully. Eyes wandered to the window. "Lady Elster, are you..."

He stopped. Eyes widened fractionally.

"...father?" Albert said, cocking his head to the side. "Is...everything...?"

"...?" Elster looked uncertainly at the High King, then followed his gaze. She paused as well.

Beyond the panes of glass, a veranda lit by warm gaslight encircled the entire villa. Its covered walkway framed by white stone pillars and railings. Every so often, household guard patrolled the darkened grounds perimeter, passage marked by bobbing, chest-mounted glow-globes.

Somehow, a figure managed to sneak between patrol groups. He clung to the railings from the outside, overlong arm wrapped around a pillar, clutching a primitive staff. A shaggy mane of brown hair framed a face with aspects of the bestial. Yellow eyes, and sharp fangs.

The Davinite priest silently grinned, and beckoned the High King with his free hand.

A Davinite priest the High King was very familiar with.

"..." Chrétian Leclair blinked, then scowled soberly. Wrung his collar with one olive finger. "Apologies, Lady Elster. I...have some pressing business to attend to..."

"...oh?" Elster said, blinking. She looked between the shaggy abhuman outside, and the aging pilot who began to walk toward the nearest exterior door. "N-no problem, mein herr."

"Good, good," Chrétian nodded, flashing her a reassuring smile. He patted his son's shoulder as he passed. "Albert, my boy, I'll need to take you up on that offer. It should...only be a few minutes. There's a good lad."

Turning his head, Albert watched his father retreat. "Very well." When the elder moved beyond earshot, he turned and beckoned toward the opposite direction. "Come...we have much to discuss..."

Elster watched him out of the corner of her eye, as he passed her.

"...replika," he whispered, flashing her a piercing glare.

"...!" Elster's eyes widened. Looked over her shoulder, as he kept walking.

Swallowing, she turned and fell in behind the gestalt. She projected her thoughts.

Dash. Follow me. I may need backup.

A few meters away, resting against a pillar, Dash nodded. Glanced toward her mother and the Leclair pilot leading her. Got it.

Elster nodded to the Star. Adjusted the gold chain fixing the Sphiranx pelt around her shoulders. Beneath its fur folds, she patted the sheath hidden under the back of her jacket, containing her Xenos claw blade. No metal, no metal detectors.

Not that metal detectors were of any use, when her skeleton sang metallic. But...better safe than sorry.

Elster furrowed her brow, clenching a fist.

Nat. We have a problem. They know.

 

Shit. On it.

The Spy turned to the Assassin. Smiled.

"While this game has been lovely," Natasha said, raising a hand palm-up and leaning forward, "I suspect we both have more 'work' to do, ja?"

"Hmm..." the Callidus assassin adjusted her stolen cuff links, side-eyeing the replika idly. Returned the smile. "I suppose we do, yes." She narrowed her eyes, and lowered her voice. "Don't forget what I said."

"Oh, I won't," Natasha said, shaking her head. "Enjoy the party."

By unspoken agreement, the two turned and walked away resolutely. Two predators could ill afford to show weakness by refusing to expose their backs. Rather, it proved they had nothing to fear.

Now then, Natasha thought, picking her way around clumps of party guests. Onto...

She stopped, as a pilot in green and cream stepped out from behind a pillar and barred her way.

"...hmm?" Natasha said, cocking her head to the side. She smirked. "Oh. It's you."

Light glinted off lenses, as the pilot adjusted round glasses. He furrowed his brow, meeting the Spy's gaze with a mixture of trepidation and resolve.

"...yes. Me," said the Third Prince of Leclair. Extended a hand. "Christophe Leclair. I'm afraid I can't allow you to go...undanced with."

"Can't you, now?" Natasha said, pressing a finger to her lips. She pouted performatively. "Oh...but I just got off the dancefloor, and my 'feet' are so tired."

The pilot stepped forward. Stared into the woman's eyes. "Somehow...I highly doubt your 'hooves' can get tired, Ms. Crane. Or should I say 'Kranich'."

"Well, you don't need to be rude, young man," Natasha said, reaching out and taking the gestalt's hand. She smirked.

"Hngh!" Christophe shuddered, feeling the Kranich brush a psychic hand lightly across the surface of his mind. "...you..."

"Come along, then," Natasha said, stepping toward the dancefloor, her hand clutching his. She looked over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. "Let's dance."

Meters away, the false Balder Brandywich glanced over her shoulder at last, watching the cyborg Spy walk off with the third-eldest Leclair boy. "Hmm..." she grunted, walking away.

"[Have enough fun with your opposite number?]" came a voice in her cochlear implant. "[We still have work to do.]"

"Please," the Callidus sub-vocalized, looking around the ballroom nonchalantly. "She's good, I'll give her that. But she's not in my league. Worth keeping track of as the night goes on, but not a threat. Not to us, nor to the mission."

"[That goes without saying. I...]"

The Callidus stopped in her tracks. Head turned just slowly enough not to rouse suspicion. "Wait. Something's happening outside."

She drifted to her left, grabbing a wine glass from a servant's platter without looking. Slid up to a windowframe, back pressed to the wall. Head turned lazily, so she could peer out the glass panes. Sipped, to disguise her interest.

"[...what's going on?]"

The Callidus raised her glass. By micro muscle contractions, induced the digital pict-capture device on her finger to snap the scene on the veranda.

The scene of the High King of House Leclair having a covert meeting with the shaggy abhuman.

Their discussion, heated. The contents, difficult to determine, from the assassin's angle. She couldn't quite read their lips for the dark, the angle, and her need to stay circumspect.

All she could tell was what she could surmise. The Callidus frowned, adjusting her camera-ring.

"Chrétian Leclair is meeting with a Davinite. He may be colluding with Horus."

 

"Troubling. Not unexpected. Well, you know our orders."

Cracking his neck, the figure on the roof grunted. Rolled his shoulder. Red lenses darted around, before he rose from squatting position. Stretched, making sure to keep his form firmly in the shadow of the chimney. Free hand patted the long weapon resting against masonry by his side.

The Assassin banished the array of camera feeds for a moment. Blinked to mitigate eye strain. An occupational hazard training circumvented as needed, but nonetheless posed a problem if left unaddressed.

An Imperial Assassin's value was as living instruments of calculated murder. (Or, in the case of one Temple in particular, berserk fury). Chronic stress injuries ended more than one agent's career, one way or another, regardless of the finest technologies and therapies to fix or forestall.

Preventative measures kept a member of the Officio Assassinorum functional longer. Stretches, resting, hydration, etc.

The Assassin scanned the moonlit landscape. Glanced over his shoulder, to drink in the sea.

Sometimes - very rarely - he indulged the fantasy of Retirement. Of finding a quiet, picturesque planet like Fadehome, and settling down. Cabin by the sea. Hunting dogs. Garden.

A silly dream. Motivated as much by exhaustion as whimsy. Made all the less likely by the Warmaster's treason. No, the Assassin on the roof was sure he'd die on the job. A certainty all but stated outright through his years of training, even before the galaxy went to shit.

Would there be any viable planetary biospheres left, when the civil war was over? Or...

A flash of light in the dark. A flicker.

Crouching automatically, the Assassin blink-activated telescopic imaging on his eye lenses. "..."

Somewhere across the valley, just beyond the treeline, the shine of headlights off lumber filtered out. They sped for a moment, then halted abruptly. Cut out.

A low, persistent blare of a horn echoed across the grounds.

The Assassin narrowed his eyes. Hand gripped the weapon at his side by muscle memory.

"...the hell?"

 

BLLLLLRRRRRRRRR.

Smashed engine block belched smoke. Leaves cascaded down on crumpled hood. Headlights guttered, then died.

The truck groaned, tilting on the tangled roots of the tree it impacted. Horn blared continuously.

Rear cabin doors creaked, as they swung loose. Foul odor issued from the dark interior.

As the vehicle settled, the horn cut out suddenly.

"Ngh! Mmm! Gck! Nah!"

Driver side door popped open. Two shapes fell out. One large and swathed in earth-toned clothing. One small and white.

"Bck bck bck bck bck bck!" the chicken clucked, wings flapping as it glided awkwardly to the ground. Rolling to its feet, the bird dashed away as fast as its little legs could carry it.

"Ffffuuu-!" the figure groaned, rolling over on his back. He used the shotgun in one hand as leverage to sit up.

His head fell off in the attempt. Hat, wig, and mustache/glasses combo tumbled to the dirt.

Hand rose, patting the bare patch between his shoulders. Flinching, the figure rose to his feet. One leg thinner and weaker, reinforced by a brace screwed to the bone. He removed a periscope that poked out from his collar, then pulled at his shirt.

"Gah!"

Buttons undone, the mutant's large chest-face stared wildly at the night. Bulging, bloodshot eyes darted around, toothy maw clenched.

"Hah! Hah!" the mutant panted, entire torso turning to look around. He clutched his shotgun at the hip, swallowing hard. "Buddy!" he cried, voice nearly swallowed by the night. Staggering around, he nearly tripped on his discarded manikin head. "Ah! B-buddy! Where tha kark 're ya, twist!"

Oppressive night surrounded him. Starlight filtered through a canopy of branches. Shadows snaked across the underbrush. All he could see was a spot of white, as the chicken intended for sacrifice dashed in the villa's direction.

"...hah...hah...b-buddy?" the mutant whimpered. Large eyes darted around. He ran in the same direction as the bird. Limped on one weak leg, shotgun trained ahead of him. "Where ya at!? Ansa' me! I-AH!"

In the dark, the mutant nearly tripped over a mass slumped on the ground. He staggered, free hand grasping a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree. As he looked down and rested a leg against the lump, he realized it felt warm.

"Eh?" he wheezed, staring down. He prodded the shape, then shoved it over. A sinking feeling come over him. "...oh, twist...is that...?"

The hunchback's body rolled. Under the moonlight, his torn clothes revealed a mass of warty pale skin, scarlet blood, and a spiderweb of blackened veins. His flesh, drawn and dried. His watery eyes and frog-wide mouth, contorted in a countenance of terror.

"...aaahhhhh!" the chest-faced mutant gasped, recoiled in horror. Pupils dilated, mouth agape. Shotgun shook violently in his hands, as he pressed his back against the gnarled bough of the tree. "...no...d-dark 'uns p-p-preseff m-m-me...t-twi-"

Drip. Drip drip.

He felt something wet hit his face between the eyes. Saw more liquid fall in front of him, as he felt hot spittle drip down his nose-less skin and onto his lips. It tasted of iron, and sin.

Creak.

Blood run cold, the mutant trembled. He leaned back, eyes staring up.

An impossibly dark shape crouched among the branches, silhouetted against the rising moon. A vague suggestion of a man. A presence redolent with nightmarish portents, and the sound of straining skin and cracking bones.

It brandished its claws, and growled. "Nnnnnrrrrr!"

"AAAAAAAGH!" the mutant screamed. He raised his shotgun, as the shadow fell over him.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

Chapter 127: Threats, Implied & Actionable

SMACK.

"Pervers!"

The Fourth Prince of Leclair rubbed his cheek, olive skin shifting a shade of red. He frowned, watching the woman in a white and red dress retreat, nose upturned.

"..." Dorian sighed, pressing his back against the wall of the side hallway. Cast a glance the other direction, and raised his brows. Pointed finger guns and smiled. "Mesdames."

"Oh, don't mind us," Meryl said, covering her mouth with a grin. "Heh heh."

"Strike out, huh?" Kite smirked, leaning against the wall with one arm, her jacket open to reveal a blood-red shirt.

The pilot cast an annoyed glance at the retreating woman, then smiled, eyes shut. Folded his arms behind his head. "Oh, that was nothing. Some girls in the League just know how to hold a grudge."

"Can't imagine why," Meryl said, sardonically. "Do your charms ever work?"

"Oh, negging, is it?" Dorian said, grinning slyly at the Eule. "A technique with such a venerable pedigree. I'm impressed." He pointed lazily in their direction. "But let's not be coy. You two have been eyeing me all night. I know that look. Want to have some fun?"

"Tch. With you?" Kite said, snickering. "Maybe. Meryl and I were just waiting the night out."

"For what?" Dorian said, slowly unbuttoning his jacket all the way. Back arched, so the green and cream jacket flaps fell away to expose his cream shirt. It clung to his midriff suggestively. "For me to get freed up?"

"More like for us to get desperate," Kite said, shrugging. Smiled down at the Eule. "Right, Meryl?"

"I mean..." Meryl said, crossing her arms and frowning. She shut her eyes, shrugging. "...I guess."

"If your blue-haired friend isn't biting," Dorian said, turning to the Star, "you and I can have some fun. Or what...are you two a package deal or something?"

Kite stood up straight. Draped her arm over the Eule, expression good-natured but sober. "Damn straight."

Meryl wrapped her arm around the Star's midriff. "Always."

"Oh don't worry, I'm great at multi-tasking," Dorian said, pushing off from the wall. Wagged a finger at the two replikas. "How about it?"

The replikas looked the gestalt up and down. Watched him seductively undo another top button from his cream shirt, exposing more of his olive chest.

The Eule pursed her lips. Nudged the Star and looked up. "Kite..." she whispered.

"Yeah?" Kite said, leaning down.

"...sorry," Meryl said, smiling at the pilot, "can we...have a second to discuss?"

"Sure," Dorian shrugged, arms crossed behind his head. Smirked, eyes half-lidded. "Don't keep me waiting too long, though."

The two replikas turned around, and crouched conspiratorially.

"What're we thinking?" Kite whispered, pressing a finger to her lips.

Meryl swallowed, staring at the white and blue tiled floor. "...do we...really want to do it here? At the party?"

"With this guy?" Kite hooked a thumb back at the gestalt.

"With anyone, really," Meryl sighed, running fingers through her blue hair. "Like, this place is pretty crowded."

"So's the Nomarch," Kite shrugged. "Never stopped us before."

"The Nomarch plays by its own rules, though," Meryl whispered, gesturing nervously with her hands. "Everyone knows not to...you know, make a big deal about what they hear or see? It's different out in public. Like, fancy people public."

"Why care what they think?" Kite muttered, cocking an eyebrow. "We'll probably not see most of them ever again. Especially if this cold war gets hot."

The Eule groaned, dragging her fingers down her face. "...Kiiiiite..." she whined, frowning. Lowered her voice. "I don't...want these fancy people thinking we're sluts!"

Blink, blink.

"...Meryl," Kite said, quietly, looking patiently at her girlfriend, "we are sluts."

"But I don't want them to know that!" Meryl growl-whispered, while gesturing with both hands down the hall, from whence the sound of music wafted. Fingers curled into claws. She deflated, head bowed. "They already think we're savages. Uncouth barbarians, who got in on a technicality. What if we give the company a bad name?"

"Don't think it'll matter much," Kite shrugged. She patted the Eule's back affectionately. "Look...doing it at the villa, during the party, is kind of our only option if we intend to fuck anyone here." She looked up at the ceiling. "Whether at his place, or back at the hotel, we have to inform the others. Can't exactly sneak him onto the limo, or disappear. I mean, what do we say to Elster?"

"..." Meryl stared at the floor, oxident running cold. "...oh."

"Yeah," Kite said, nodding. Threw up her hands, and shook her head with a smile. "'Sorry, mom, don't wait up. We need to peg this rich asshole you told us to stay away from'."

"Hmm...kinky."

The replikas flinched. Cast venomous glances over their shoulders, at the gestalt standing behind them.

"So..." Dorian said, leaning against the wall with one hand. Multiple more buttons on his cream shirt undone, giving him a plunging neckline. He swept his long, wavy brown hair behind at ear, and offered a hand. "...how about it?"

Meryl narrowed her gaze, color rushing to her cheeks. "...you got protection, pretty boy?"

Pregnancy wasn't an issue. But cleanliness was. Especially if the man was a carrier for something.

The Leclair pilot reached into his inner jacket pocket, and let gravity unfurl a full pack of condoms. Smirked. "Always."

Star and Eule looked each other in the eyes. Kite raised her eyebrows. "Well?"

"...nngh..." Meryl groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Sighed. "Fine. Let's do it."

"Magnifique!" Dorian cried, pushing away from the wall. Folded his pack of 'protection' and stowed it. Clapped and rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Now...let's find a secluded place."

Kite rose to full height, and patted her girlfriend's back. "You ready?" she said, furrowing her brow sympathetically. "We can call it off, if..."

"No...come on."

The Eule stood up, scowling. Arms crossed. Face flushed.

"I want to fuck that stupid grin off his stupid face."

 

"...as they gazed upon their moon ablaze, the gun-clans ranted and raved and rent their garments. To them, it was an omen. An omen of doom, the likes of which could drive the sanest men mad. So palpable, this delirious excitation - so potent their frenzy - they flung open their armories. Loaded precious, irreplaceable ammunition - carefully husbanded over generations - and loosed them wildly into the sky..."

The small group of party-goers muttered among themselves.

"A scandalous waste of munitions. Our ancestors would never tolerate it..."

"They're peasants. What do you expect?"

"Peasants and mad. They served the World Eaters, remember? They can't have possessed much sense of proportion to begin with. Much less decorum."

"..."

"I'm sorry...the moon was literally on fire? To the point it could be seen planetside? Did I understand that correctly?"

The Kolibri laced her fingers together. Smiled, head nodding beneath its blue, star-filled shawl.

"Literally aflame," Shahrazad said. Eyes met that of the Waite pilot, sensing as much as seeing the pilot's growing amazement. "As I said, Autek Mor's Iron Hands bombarded the moon with fiery munitions, with such force even that barren, airless rock burned." She raised her hands, miming an orb that expanded over her head. "Night turned to day, and black skies turned red."

Furious muttering.

"Preposterous! That's not possible!"

"You say that. I've fought on Pacificus periphery. I've seen weapons of such caliber in action!"

"Why burn the moon, though? What was Autek Mor thinking?"

"Revenge. I've heard the rumors filtering from out east. About the betrayal as Isstvan V."

"Hah! Betrayal! It was no such thing! Say what you will of his bid for power, the Warmaster is no coward as to sink to base perfidy!"

"You know nothing, Zeranor! It-"

"...uh..." Shahrazad cringed, holding up a finger. Brows furrowed. She felt, and surmised, the discussion getting away from her. "Entschuldingung! P-please, I'm not finished!"

"I know plenty, St. Blaise boy! The Warmaster would neve-"

"Don't call me a boy, old man!"

Eyes darting between pilots and sputtering replika, the Fifth Prince of House Leclair sighed. Cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem!"

"..." A half-dozen people turned to the dark-haired young man.

"...before we get off topic..." Ernest said, coughing into his fist. He gestured to the Kolibri. "...I would hear the continuation of the story. Preferably without undo interruptions." He shot a neutral glance at the scion of St. Blaise. "The Zugvögal are the guests of Sir Didier's esteemed House, are they not? And Ms. Shahrazad graciously repays this hospitality with a story, yes?"

"...y-yes..." said the St. Blaise pilot, wringing the collar of his quartered blue and white jacket. "Please, Mademoiselle. Continue."

The Kolibri blinked, then looked at the Leclair pilot. When the young man nodded, she stood up straight with redoubled confidence. "R-right...where was I?"

Clearing her throat, Shahrazad gestured once more with her hands.

"Poisoned seas boiled. Gun-clans turned on one another. The moon, aflame. Night turned to hideous day. An ill omen. As the reddened skies filled with Iron Hands gunships and drop pods, there was the unavoidable impression - insane though it seemed - that Bodt's burning moon...was getting bigger..."

 

"We know what you are...replika of Eusan."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Two pairs of eyes stared each other down. Organic locked with artificial. Brows furrowed.

Brice, Second Prince of House Leclair, stood by the door. A scant meter across from him, Dash leaned against a bookcase opposite him. Both scowled. Both crossed arms.

In the middle of the vacant tea room, stood on either side of a low table, their elders gazed out the window at the moonlit bay.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"...specificity being what it is, I suppose there's no use denying it," Elster said, finger fiddling with the gold chain at her neck. Looked sidelong at the First Prince. "After so many years...I'd completely forgotten that the Compliance Fleet sent to conquer Eusan carried Knights. House Leclair?"

"Not only House Leclair," Albert said, staring at the moon's wavy reflection. Expression neutral. "Brice, Christophe, and I fought on your worlds. Our steeds strode the dunes of Kitezh, the shallow seas of Vineta, and brought down the walls of Heimat. Battled your 'Falcon' models. They fought well..."

"But no witches are a match for Knights," Brice grumbled, frowning at the Star.

"..." Dash maintained her stare. "Your face says otherwise."

"We lost good pilots in Eusan!" Brice growled, clenching his fists. A vein bulged on his forehead. "We lost family!"

"And we lost both Empire and Nation," Dash said, inclining her head back fractionally. Eyes remained locked. "AND we were almost driven extinct. Losing a few pilots, even your kin, doesn't compare to genocide."

Choking on his rage, Brice blinked. Clenched his teeth. "How dar-!"

"Brice," Albert said, curtly. He didn't look over his shoulder. "Enough."

"But-!" Brice barked, turning his head sideways to look at the older pilot. He hissed, looking down at his feet. Sucked air through his nose, grumbling. "...mmmrrr..."

Dash smiled. Staring contest won. Star 1, Leclair 0.

"With that out of the way," Elster said, glancing over her shoulder to catch Dash's thumb's up, "what do you want?"

"That's my question posed to you," Albert said, holding a hand up and closing his fist. Side-eyed the replika. "Why are you here? How are you here? How did you survive?"

"To the latter two questions, 'with great difficulty'," Elster said, turning back to the moon. She crossed her arms. "As to the former...that's our own business. Just as piloting Knights is yours."

"It is our business when you insinuate yourselves in private League functions," Albert said, turning his head to look at the replika. "Moreso, when you bring Psykers along with you. Which side do you spy for?"

"We're not here to spy, Herr Leclair," Elster said, picking a bit of lint off her jacket sleeve. "We're here to network."

"Network?" Brice said, head snapping over to look at the replika commander. "You've got to be kidding! Is that why you killed Brandon St. Blaise!?"

"We did no such thing," Dash said, leaning forward slightly. "We found them dead in space."

"Heh. Yeah," Brice huffed, "likely story."

"..." Albert narrowed his eyes at the replika commander. "You claim to have brought no harm to Sir Brandon, his cousin, or his ship. Let's say, for argument, I believe you. Why network? Why come to the Knights of Gal-Galon?"

"Because doing Sir Didier a favor was within our power," Elster said, shrugging. She looked the elder pilot in the eyes. "And it should be obvious. Horus's war is coming to the west. We've already seen how it ravages the east. We're mercenaries. It pays to cultivate connections."

"Yes, well, that's all moot now, isn't it?" Albert said, stepping toward the window. He pressed a hand against the glass, then turned to the replika. "You didn't count on House Leclair. And I won't let you seduce my father."

"...honestly, he was trying to seduce me for a minute there," Elster muttered, looking up at the ceiling. She addressed the Prince again. "...your father doesn't know, does he? About us?"

"..." Albert maintained a neutral expression. Despite himself, a bead of sweat poured down his brow.

He couldn't afford to verify that no, his father wasn't aware. If they knew, and their psychic models could hunt Christophe down...

Elster stroked her chin. Eyed the Prince carefully.

"...I wonder what else your father doesn't know..."

 

Do they know? Your family?

Slow waltz. Slow steps. Slow rotation.

Round glasses slipped down a nose, in front of narrowed eyes. The Third Prince scowled.

You wouldn't dare, Christophe thought, venomously.

The Spy smirked, meeting the gestalt's gaze defiantly. Ah...so they DON'T know. Interesting...

"Heh..." Christophe breathed, removing a hand from the Kranich's hip to push his glasses up. You have no proof.

I don't need to prove your bioresonance outright, Natasha thought, letting the pilot lead the dance in precise circles. Your brothers...your father...even your peers...they've known you for years. They've seen you in action. A career of insight, intuition? Consistent accuracy? Uncanny luck? Always the first to know where the foe is coming from...?

How did you...? Christophe gritted his teeth. Hastily examined his defenses, cursing himself for never properly learning how to shield his mind. Gave a nervous smile. ...maybe I'm just that good. The rest is inconclusive. Circumstantial evidence. Coincidence...

A lifetime of coincidences, dear, Natasha thought, inclining her head back fractionally. Three stars on her forehead glinted red in the overhead lights. I don't need to convince them immediately. Merely implant the idea in their heads. Incept doubt. Make them second-guess every memory they have of you. Make them read what they will into every future interaction.

"..." Christophe's heart raced. Skin broke out in a cold sweat.

He imagined the judgmental glances. The uncomfortable questions. Imagined Brice's temper.

It came easily. These imaginings - these fears - haunted him for years. Ever since he realized...

Precisely so, Prinz, Natasha thought, nodding slowly.

Christophe rallied, glaring. If you say a word, I'll expose you. Replikas are declared Abominable Intelligence. You'll be...

We'll be what, dear? Killed? Why? Natasha removed a hand from the pilot's shoulder to wave it dismissively toward their surroundings. None of the Houses devoted to Forge worlds are in attendance. Will the rest even care? All of that happened half a galaxy away. No one but the...yes, the three of you even know what a 'replika' is. Let alone what they were declared.

Christophe flinched, as the Kranich booped his nose. "H-hey!"

"Heh heh," Natasha giggled, wagging her finger. Besides...I'm confident in my ability to complicate, obfuscate, prevaricate, and delay. Sir Didier is beholden enough to us that he'd let us depart. Especially if we cite insult by such outrageous accusations. There's no proving whose word is true, not for a long time. All WE need is the time to hit the nearest Mandeville point, and we can disappear. Find another sector to ply our trade. We've done it before, and have become exceedingly good at it.

She clapped her hand on the pilot's shoulder again, stroking it affectionately. Felt him shiver.

For you, it's far different, Natasha thought, narrowing her eyes. She jerked her head at the other dancers. If we're forced to move on, no big loss. You, by contrast, have to live with these people. The League of Gal-Galon. Your House. Your brothers. Your father. They all have bad opinions about 'witches'. How would they react...?

"Hck!" Christophe choked, blood running cold. Eyes widened fractionally. You...you wouldn't...you're bluffing!

The Kranich shrugged. Maybe. Maybe not. You don't know. Want to find out? Burn these bridges of ours together? Or do you have somewhere else you can go? The war is getting hotter, Prinz. It's not safe for a Freeblade anymore. Not without support...

"...I..." Christophe gritted his teeth, eyes shut. He took a deep breath. Glared. I won't be blackmailed, replika. I'm prepared for any-

Very well, Natasha thought, flatly. She abruptly stopped dancing, turning away with one hand clasped in the pilot's. Commander, the lad isn't cooperating. Make good on my threat.

Christophe, permitted to hear this message, froze. Eyes widened, pupils dilated. "Wait what...?"

The Spy turned back. Held their clasped hands up. Smiled maliciously.

"Now...where's that father of yours? We should tell him together, no?"

 

"...why do you trouble me so? Have I not made myself clear?"

Salt air wafted in from the bay. Insects buzzed softly. Moonlight disappeared behind a cloud.

Hidden in the shadow of a pillar, the abhuman scratched his hairy neck. Flashed a toothy grin.

"Like I says b'fore," the Davinite priest grumbled, leaning on the railing. "The Warmaster offers much, High King. More'n the Emprah eva could."

"Forgive me if I struggle to take your word for it, villein," said Chrétian, half-turned away. He leaned against the pillar, staring down the length of the veranda. "What your lord asks...what he's already done..."

"Necess'ry, m'lord, to save the Imperium," said the mutant, stretching out a hand, palm up. "How 'bout it?"

"...I took oaths, bon sang," Chrétian grumbled, clenching his fist. "I can't just..."

"And what've ya oaths to the Warmaster, eh?" the priest said, leaning in farther. "What you an' the missus made on Ullanor..."

Clenching his teeth, the High King muttered, "I know damn well what oaths we swore! Don't think I've forgotten!"

He turned his back. Huffed. "Go, Davinite," Chrétian said, tugging on the cuff of his jacket. "I've given you my answer."

"...aye," muttered the Davinite, watching the noble retreat, "that you have, ya highness."

Door opened and closed.

The Davinite half-turned, ready to descend into the cover of bushes. He sneered.

"Jus' be careful, Suh. The war's closer then ya think..."

 

"Hmm?"

Bass guitar fell silent. Legs uncrossed. Eyes dropped from the stars.

The Fledermaus sat up on the roof of the limousine. Looked around. Spotted a set of glow-globes bobbing across the parking lot.

"...what was...?" Marceline muttered, turning her head. Listened to a night grown quiet from momentarily stilled wind.

Cluck-cluck-cluck!

"...?" the 'Maus frowned, looking forward. Brushed her bangs aside. Eyes tuned to darkness drank in the night. "...is that...?"

Brows rose, as she spotted a pinprick of white dash rapidly toward her. A white spot that flapped its wings impotently.

The 'Maus leaned back, setting her bass down inside the limo cabin, right next to her discarded black jacket. Then shuffled over to the edge of the vehicle.

Cluck-cluck-cluck!

The bird didn't seem to notice the 'Maus, as she plucked it into her arms. It squawked in surprise, flapping madly.

"A chicken?" Marceline muttered, holding the frightened animal at arm's length. Tilted head to the side. Patted the bird on the back gently. "Shh...shh...it's okay. Not gonna hurt you."

The hen's head jerked around, its body trembling. Eyes turned, reflecting the red of the replika's shirt. The bird clucked in confusion.

The 'Maus rocked her head from side to side, mimicking the bird's neck movements. Marceline smirked. "Huh. Weird."

Chickens were absent from the Duarch, and uncommon on the Nomarch. According to Meryl, the majority of their nesting birds perished midway to the Blackstone Graveyard. Housed in Hydroponics, as it came under attack by disease daemons. Only roosters, and a scant few hens, survived the attack, on account of living in various dorms. Roosters to control breeding, hens as personal or dorm pets.

Why the Eules, Aras, and such chose chickens for pets, rather than the many cats running around, the 'Maus could only speculate on. Because cats were aloof, whereas chickens weren't?

"AGH!"

Hen and Bat froze.

"YAGH!"

Lowering the animal, Marceline stared out at the darkness. Saw glow-globes fall.

"..." She hugged the bird close to her chest, as she slowly put her hooves under her. Felt the creature's rapid heartbeat. Swallowed.

Suddenly, a shape blacker than night peeked up. It strode through a low hedge, heading in their direction.

"...scheisse..." Marceline breathed. Leaned back, crouch-stepping over the sunroof. Gently dropped the chicken inside. Hand reached for the combat knife at her belt. "Get in there, girl."

If she intended to reassure the chicken, it didn't work. The hen clucked in surprise, flapping as it drifted to the carpeted floor.

The shadow broke into a sprint.

"Shhhhhit!" Marceline gritted her teeth, drawing her weapon. Stayed low, ready to dodge.

Three cars away. Two cars. One.

"...!"

Before it reached the limo, the dark silhouette visibly recoiled. Ground to a halt, arms thrown out in front of it.

"...eh?" Marceline breathed, brows rising. Knife held out in front of her.

Silently, the figure in front of her shivered. Clawed hand held up, defensively.

"..."

Curiously, the 'Maus frowned, and stood up. Diminutive frame silhouetted against the warm light of the villa behind her.

Before her eyes, shadows clinging to the creature's body receded. Parted, as if smoke against a gale. Its skin, red and aggrieved, stretched taut over rippling muscles and jutting bone. A dark leather bandolier crossed diagonally over its chest, loaded with a pair of vials housing green liquid. Light glinted weakly off steel cables that arched from the back of its skull. Claws and skull-mask a coal black. Sickly yellow teeth clenched, lipless, behind a locked cage. Its eye sockets glowed ice blue.

Those eyes gaped in fear, as it beheld a creature far darker and more loathsome than even itself. Anathema.

To her, it looked...kind of pathetic. Comical, even.

"..." Marceline gripped her knife at her side. Stepped forward. Roof squeaked with the shift of her weight. "The hell ar-?"

"...!" The figure flinched, stumbling back. Arms thrown up protectively. Eyes darted around, before it bolted to its left.

"Hey!" the 'Maus cried, watching the creature sprint around her.

It afforded her a wide berth. Vaulted a car, simply to avoid drawing closer. Finally, the creature barreled straight through the hedge-line, heedless of branches that scratched its skin. Shadows enveloped it again, as it put distance between them, the hedge maze swallowing it. Leaves trembled as it ran through each 'wall'.

Marked its path, straight for the villa.

"...what the hell?" Marceline breathed, scratching her head. She stopped. "...wait..."

Behind her bangs, eyes widened. Moonlight peeked behind the clouds, brightening the parking lot.

That's..., she thought, ...some kind of Chaos thing, isn't it?

"..."

From below, the white hen clucked in relief, sensing the threat passed.

It squawked, as the Fledermaus leaped from atop the vehicle in a panic.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Marceline growled, gripping her knife as she bolted toward the hedge.

Heart racing, she frantically brought up her Noosphere interface.

This is definitely my problem!

 

"...you're lying! I don't believe it!"

The replika commander looked over her shoulder, arms crossed.

"It's true," Elster said, eyeing the Second Prince cooly. "My Kranich clocked your brother the moment she laid eyes on him."

"...of course..." Albert muttered, stroking his chin.

"Well, your witch is a liar!" Brice rumbled, gritting his teeth. Arm muscles flexed, as he stomped forward. "Chris isn't one of them! How dare you!?"

"Oi, beefhead," Dash said, stepping up beside the pilot. "You settle down, right now!"

"Or what?" Brice barked, turned toward the Star. Held up a clenched fist, a vein protruding visibly on his neck. "You wanna dance?"

"Would be the first dance I'd look forward to all night," Dash said, unbuttoning her jacket.

"Dash, stop," Elster said, firmly. "We're not here to fight."

"...she's right, Brice," Albert said, after a moment. "Starting a fight now would violate the rules of hospitality. Didier would be forced to throw us out, or worse, for assaulting another guest."

"That's bullshit, and you know it, Al!" Brice barked, glancing toward his elder brother. He scowled, brows rising. "She's slandering our brother! Honor demands we-"

"..." Albert stood still, expression grave.

Brice blinked. Turned to his brother. "...don't tell me you believe her! Al, Chris isn't..." He held his arms out, deflating. "He's not...he's not a witch..."

"...Brice," Albert said, closing his eyes. "I think...he might be..."

The Second Prince blanched. "N-no, that's...that's not..." He looked down at his fists. Looked up sharply. "Did you know?"

"I didn't know for sure," Albert said firmly, meeting his brother's eyes. "I suspected."

"When?" Brice said, holding his hands up in disbelief. "When did you-?"

"...on Kitezh," Albert sighed, turning around. He stalked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. "During that incident. You know the one. From there...I kept an eye out. It...fits the pattern I've observed..."

"...shit..." Brice gasped, stumbling forward. He leaned heavily on the back of a couch. "Does...does dad know?"

"..." Albert stared out at the dark waters of the bay. Watched the moon's reflection reappear from behind a bank of clouds. "...I..."

"I hate to interrupt..."

The pilots turned sharply to the replika commander.

"...this...seems like a matter best discussed in private," Elster said, crossing her arms. She sighed. "If it means anything, I take no joy in being the bearer of such news. Your brother's secret is no mean thing to..."

She froze. As did Dash.

"...Lady Elster?" Albert said, looking between them.

"..."

Brice turned from Star to her commander. Scratched his head. "...are they...broken? What's-"

The replikas bolted for the door.

"You two, hurry!" Elster said, tugging frantically at the clasp for her Sphiranx fur cape. "We need to move!"

"What?" Brice grunted, standing up straight. "What're you-?"

Albert ran to follow. Blonde ponytail flapped behind him. "Come on."

The two gestalts sped out of the room, hot on the hooves of the replikas.

"Lady Elster," Albert said, jogging to catch up, "what's going on?"

"Something's coming!" Elster said, unlatching her Sphiranx-fur cape and handing it to Dash. Hand grabbed at her back. "Now move!"

The Leclair pilots started, seeing the replika pull a curved knife, made from an alien claw, from a sheath hidden under the back of her black jacket.

In the mind's eye of Elster and Dash, an emergency message pinged on their digital interfaces.

"[Head's up: A daemon(?) thing is heading straight for the villa.]"

Chapter 128: Party Crash

Knock, knock, knock!

"Come on! Open up! You've been in there for ten minutes, at least! Other people need to use it too!"

Restroom door cracked open.

"Is...everything alright?" Meryl whispered, eyes darting nervously around the men's room.

Kite, sighing, reached out over her girlfriend's head, and dramatically flung the door wide. "We have a problem?"

"Ack!" Meryl gasped, looking up at her girlfriend.

"Tch, yeah," Dorian grumbled, half-turning and crossing his arms. Clenched a fist and banged on the stall door. "Door's locked. Someone's inside, but they aren't answering." Turned his head and scowled. "Because he's rude!"

"You...don't have to do that," Meryl whispered, waving down with both hands while smiling nervously.

"I mean, others might have the same idea we had," Kite said, strolling inside. Rapped her knuckles on the door. "Yo, if you're fucking or jerkin' it in there, just grunt, and we'll go somewhere else. Or if you're just sick or something, I guess."

"..."

Dorian squinted at the door. Looked at the Star, gesturing a hand at the stall. "What'd I tell ya?"

"...oh...that's not good," Meryl said, looking over her shoulder and slinking quickly inside. Shut the door, and raised her voice. "Is...someone in there? Are you okay?"

"Hmph...this is a bust," Dorian grumbled, scratching the back of his head. "Come on. This is a villa. Maybe there's an unlocked bedroom on the other side of the building." He started toward the exit.

"Wait," Kite said, holding up a hand. When the gestalt looked back at her, she reached a hand under the back of her jacket and slid out her Xenos-talon blade.

"Eh?" Dorian said, eyes widening fractionally. "Where...how did you sneak that in?"

"D-don't worry about it!" Meryl said, holding hands up at the gestalt. She stepped up behind her girlfriend. Whispered, "Kite, what're you-?"

The Star slid the tip of the blade between the gap, and effortlessly sliced through the metal latch on the other side. "Last chance," Kite said, hiding the blade behind her back. "If you don't tell us now, we're coming in!"

"..."

Dorian and Meryl looked at each other nervously. Looked at Kite.

"...suit yourself," the Star sighed, before pushing the door open.

"No, don't!" Meryl cried, darting forward with hand out.

The three froze, as their eyes fell upon the prone figure on the floor.

Sir Balder Brandywich stared up at the ceiling with vacant eyes. Blood oozed up from his lips, half-coagulated.

"..."

The three blinked. Blanched.

"...what the fuck?" Kite breathed, staring at the body. Eyes darted around, studied the small, high window. "...window's closed."

"..." Dorian frowned, brows raised. "Fuck."

"...h-holy Empress..." Meryl whispered, covering her mouth. "Is...is he...?"

The Star cautiously approached. Nudged the body with her hoof. "...uuuhhh..."

"Yo, good sir," Dorian said, inclining his head back. "You alive?"

Kite knelt by his side. Pressed two fingers to the man's neck.

Looked over her shoulder. Shook her head. "..."

"Ooohhhh noooo!" Meryl whined, backing up into the wall outside the stall, both hands covering her mouth. Mind racing.

"Damn..." Dorian muttered. Stroked his chin. "...I think...that's Balder Brandywich."

"That the House with the maroon uniforms?" Kite said, frowning. "Burgundy. Whatever."

"Shit, shit, shit..." Meryl breathed, shaking her head. "We need to-"

"...you know it's funny," Dorian said, furrowing his brow.

He hadn't noticed the two replikas freeze, due to unseen messages on their digital interfaces. Instead, he closed his eyes, pensively.

"Didn't we just see him out in the ballroom?"

 

Nat. Get my weapons.

Music filled the air. In a quiet corner of the ballroom, three guests gathered. Two in green and cream.

"...my boy," said Chrétian, head turning. Brows rose in concern. "Christophe, what's the matter?"

The Kranich frowned. Eyed the emergency message in her digital interface.

"...unfortunately..." said the Second Prince of Leclair, eyes downcast. He adjusted his glasses. "We...I have something to tell you, father."

Natasha furrowed her brow. Acknowledged. Be on your guard.

"...it's quite alright, my boy," Chrétian said, smiling warmly. He patted his son's shoulder affectionately. "You can tell me anything."

"...thank you, father," Christophe breathed, hand placed on his father's. He smiled sadly. Turned his head, seeing a shape moving out of the corner of his eye. "I...wait, what?"

"[Sitrep, Marceline]," Natasha messaged, connecting to the Noosphere as she strode right past the pair of pilots. "[Direction of approach?]"

"Ms. Crane?" Chrétian said, frowning. Head turned to watch her leave. "Is something the matter?"

"[...]" Marceline cut in after a moment. "[Fuck, sorry. Branches in my face. Thing's coming by the south side. Toward the...deck thing. It's way ahead of me, and I don't think the guards will slow it down long.]"

Scheisse! Natasha clenched her teeth. Made to double her pace. "[Acknowledged. Get there as quickly as you-]"

She stopped mid-stride. Slumped her shoulders.

Half-turned, smiling. "Sirs Leclair," she said, barely containing her anxiety. "You should follow me."

"...what?" Christophe said, furrowing his brow in consternation. "The hell is-?"

"I'm...sorry?" Chrétian said, cocking his head to the side. Stroked his gray beard pensively. "What's going on?"

"Now, if you please!" Natasha chimed, turning and stalking off. "We mustn't delay!"

It'll all be for nothing, she thought, annoyed, if you end up dying in the crossfire.

Unsure, the two Leclair pilots looked at one another, then cautiously followed.

In the shadow of a nearby pillar, the false Balder Brandywich furrowed 'his' brow.

The Callidus frowned. Subvocalized, "Crane's leading Leclair Patriarch and Third Son into the front foyer."

"[I can see that,]" returned the Assassin on the roof. "[Do we know why?]"

"No, but she's either up to something," the Callidus said, stepping out to follow at a respectable distance, "or she knows something we..."

She stopped. Head turned, to witness a commotion elsewhere in the ballroom.

"...the hell?"

 

"Lies! Slander!"

A crowd of guests - grown quite large - gasped and muttered.

The Kolibri's eyes widened. Shahrazad held her hands up, train of thought derailed. "...wh-what? I don-"

Fists clenched, the Zeranor pilot scowled. Pointed a finger at the diminutive replika. "I won't stand for this child's lies! How dare you!?"

"Oi!" Ishtar said, walking up behind the Kolibri and placed a hand protectively on her shoulder. "Don't you call Shah a liar!"

"Painting the World Eaters as blood-crazed fiends is one thing..." the elder Zeranor pilot huffed, square jaw tightened.

"Because they are," said the young pilot of St. Blaise, casting a dirty glance at the older gentleman, "and we all know it."

"...but..." said the elder, returning an angry glance, before pointing a finger at the Kolibri, "...to claim that these 'Red Butchers' were Loyalist Astartes captured on Isstvan V! Tortured, reduced to berserk killing machines, and then pressganged into battle in Terminator armor...that is an assertion too far!"

"Why?" the St. Blaise pilot huffed. "Because it offends your sensibilities, old man? And I thought you were a Crusade veteran."

"It's the implication!" the Zeranor pilot roared, raising a clenched fist. He took a step toward the Kolibri. "That the Warmaster's forces would perform such a vile crime! That is Slander of the highest orde-"

"You back the fuck off, schwanzlutscher!" Ishtar growled, moving the small replika behind her. Breach followed suit, filing in beside her girlfriend, raising a fist. "I'm warning you!"

"P-please..." Shahrazad mumbled, shivering and clutching the Storch's voluminous skirt. "...I-I'm not lying..."

"Where is your proof, then!?" barked the enraged pilot in black and purple.

Another figure interposed himself between Zeranor and replikas.

"Sir Thaddeus, this is not merely beneath your dignity," Ernest said neutrally, narrowing his dark-rimmed eyes, "it is a misplaced faith."

"Calling me a fool, boy?" seethed Sir Thaddeus Zeranor.

"I mean no disrespect, my lord," Ernest said, expression stoic and unyielding. "Only that if you believe so highly of Horus, and how his bid for power is progressing, you haven't been beyond the edge of the storms." He frowned. "What I've seen..."

"Don't bother trying to reason with him, Ernie," said the St. Blaise pilot, adjusting his blue and white jacket. "He's already chosen his side. Isn't that right, old man?"

"Please..." Shahrazad whimpered, clutching her head and shaking it. Forcibly constrained the ambient emotions threatening to overtake her. "Stop. Don't fight."

Barring his teeth, the old man turned on the young St. Blaise. Grumbled. "Mind your tongue, Sir Gervais. Not another word."

"Or what?" said Gervais St. Blaise, throwing his hands up and scowling. "You'll do something about it? Are you Horus's agent here?"

"I am your elder, boy! You will no-"

"I don't take orders from traitors!"

The ballroom fell silent. Musicians ceased their trade, as guests looked on with apprehension.

After a moment, furtive whispers.

The Zeranor pilot's face turned red. He vibrated with rage. "..."

Footsteps, as the elderly matron of House Zeranor approached. Scarred face furrowed in concern.

"Dear, stop this madness," the woman whispered, gnarled hand raised toward her husband's shoulder. "You're making a scene."

"I am not making a scene, Roselyne!" the man seethed, casting a backward glance. He gestured to the St. Blaise youth. "The whelp has insulted our honor!"

"Be that as it may," whispered Dame Roselyne Zeranor, glancing between the two, "you can't go shouting at our hosts. Or at other guests. There's protocol..."

"Listen to your wife, Sir," said Gervais, smirking. "The Crusade hasn't been kind to your House as it is. I'd hate her to see it diminished further..."

Audible gasps. Furious whispers.

Shahrazad clapped hands over her mouth. "...oh no..."

"...yeah..." Ishtar mumbled, pushing the Kolibri back and tugging on Breach's arm. "I think we just stepped in something..."

"Verily," Ernest whispered, motioning the replikas to retreat.

Both Zeranor elders eyed the St. Blaise youth darkly.

"...Thaddeus, dear..." the woman said, furrowing her brow.

"Yes, mon petit chou-fleur?" Thaddeus muttered, grinding his teeth. Face red.

"Defend our House's honor."

"With pleasure..." The Zeranor elder stomped forward, square jaw set. Yanked on his glove, raising his voice. "I, Sir Thaddeus, Baron of House Zeranor, challenge you to a duel, Sir! House Zeranor demands satisfaction!"

The St. Blaise pilot grinned maliciously. "Thought you'd never ask!" Gervais cried, unbuttoning his jacket. "How about fisticuffs?"

"A lovely suggestion!" Thaddeus said, flashing a teeth-clenched smile. Unbuttoned his own jacket, shrugging as his wife helped pull it off his large, muscular frame. Despite the years, the 'old man' kept himself in shape. "When and where?"

"Here and now?" the younger man said, whipping his jacket off and throwing it to a surprised servant.

"My thoughts exactly!" roared the old man, putting up his fists as the crowd broke out into cries of alarm (and excitement). "Have at you!"

The two squared up in the middle of the ballroom, preparing to charge.

"STOP!"

The entire room went still. Eyes turned to the short, portly figure approaching.

Sir Didier flashed a stern expression.

"Stop this instant!"

 

"Halt! Why do you have a weapon?"

Elster and Dash stopped in front of the guard in gray and blue, standing beside a pair of double doors.

Blinking, Elster held her talon-blade up where it could be seen. "That's not important now," she said, severely. "You need to get everyone on high alert."

"What?" said the guard, furrowing his brow. He glanced at his compatriot, then hefted his laslock. "With all due respect, guests aren't permitted weapons on the grounds. You'll need to-"

"Dude, we don't have time for this!" Dash barked, shifting her weight back and forth between hooves.

Two Leclair men rounded a corner and jogged down the hallway.

"Guards! Get on your vox!" said First Prince Albert. "Now!"

Head jerking at attention, the forward guard looked to the blond-haired man. "Sir Leclair, what's going on? Did these wome-"

"Shut the hell up, man!" Brice growled, stomping forward. "This is an emergency! Call everyone up!"

Creak.

"...what's the rush? It's just an argument. It happens all th-"

"Come on!" said Vanessa, pulling the Sixth Prince through the doors. "We need to find my..." Her eyes lit up. "...mom!"

"Oh good, you're safe," Elster sighed, eyeing her eldest Eule. "You got the message?"

"Yes," Vanessa said, nodding. "I-"

"Al? Brice?" Felix said, looking at his two older brothers, confused. "What's-"

"No time!" Dash said, holding her arms out at the confused guards. "Your radios, now!"

"Our what?" said one guard, scratching his head.

Elster groaned, and dropped her blade on the floor. Holding her hands up, she approached one of the guards.

The man looked at her, and paled at her dead-serious expression.

"Listen to me...one of my group outside sent me a message via vox. A threat approaches the villa as we speak..."

 

Zap! Zap! Zap!

"Ngh!"

Body collapsed onto cobblestone steps, scarlet vented onto white stone.

Crimson light flashed in the shadows, as laslocks spent their charges with abandon.

"Get back!" growled a guard, backing up.

Blam!

"Aagh!" he cried, clutching his shoulder as it spouted blood. He tripped backwards and rolled onto a stepped garden row that flanked the veranda.

Backlit by warm gaslight, the guard beside him frantically fumbled with a spare power pack. "Come on, come on!" he grumbled. Seeing his compatriots fall, he gritted his teeth and charged, hefting his laslock like a club. "Get back! Ge-"

The shadowed arm batted his improvised weapon aside. Another claw grabbed the man's wrist and yanked him down painfully.

"Ngh!" grunted the guard, looking up in alarm. He froze, heart skipping a beat. "N-no! NO!"

Instead of all-consuming darkness, the face that stared back at him resolved itself into an impressionistic, colored image. Not human in appearance, but rather distinctly lupine in aspect.

Not just any wolf, though. The wolf. The wolf with a chunk taken out of its upper lip, and one milky eye. The Fadehome beast that bit his hand, and mauled his father, two decades prior.

That wolf was dead. Succumbed the wounds his father inflicted, pelt sat at the foot of his mother's bed.

But it was here. Snarling at him.

Blood ran from the guard's face. "Aaaa-!"

Squelch!

Air escaped the guard's lungs, as he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Lungs rapidly filled with blood.

"Nnn..."

Contemptuously, the creature cast the guard aside. Warm, fresh gore dripped from the blade protruding from its arm.

It left its dead and dying obstacles behind, as it ascended the stairs.

Glowing, ice-blue eyes rose to the rows of bay windows, from which warm light and muffled music wafted.

 

"...father?" said Gervais, arms still curled up defensively.

"Cease and desist these hostilities!" cried Sir Didier, hands up. He huffed over, platinum-edged augmetic eyes darting between the two men. "We will not have blood spilled here!"

"He started it!" cried the Regent's son, pointing a finger.

"Sir Didier, my House's honor has been besmirched!" said Thaddeus, pressing a hand to his chest and waving at the youth. "I am owed redress by ritual combat! League bylaws permit it, and the challenge has been accepted!"

"I don't care who started it, or what insults were thrown!" Didier said, exasperated. He strode between the two. Eyed both in equal measure. "I am Regent of Fadehome, by leave of the Alabaster King! And I forbid this duel take place here, on sacred ground! Understood?"

Huffing, the two would-be duelists eyed one another rancorously. Then, reluctantly stepped back.

"...father..." said the youth, hanging his head. "...I..."

His father cast a sympathetic glance at his son. "...we'll deal with this later, Gervais."

He turned on his heel, raising his voice to the crowd. "Sirs and Ladies," he called, hand outstretched, palm up. "Friends. This cannot be what rips our communion apart. We are the League of Gal-Galon! And this...!" He stamped the floor with his high-heeled boot. "...this is the anniversary of our victory!"

Thaddeus Zeranor felt his wife's hand on his shoulder. He sighed, and bowed his head. "..."

"Now is the time, when the rest of the galaxy seeks to tear us apart, that we must stay together!" Didier said, turning to address each huddle of nobility in turn. "We have shed enough blood of our fellow Knights. And the outside forces that would suborn us to their will - that would rob us of our independence, and make us common cogs in their war-machines - would love nothing better than to see us at each other's throats."

Mutterings in the crowd. Wary glances. Nods of affirmation.

Nobility, suddenly conscious of the tenuousness of their positions, in light of a wider galaxy.

Sir Didier smiled, spreading out his hands.

"So let us put petty squabbles aside. Come together. Enjoy ourselves! Let there be no more fighting this ni-"

CRASH!

Gaslight twinkled off a raise of shattered glass.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

The entire ballroom froze, as Sir Didier St. Blaise, Regent of Fadehome, felt his body torn apart by high velocity impacts.

Scarlet reflected off dark ocular implants, as blood erupted from his body.

"...ack...?" he gasped, falling.

Thump.

Sir Gervais of St. Blaise paled. Eyes widened. "F-father!?"

"AAAAAAAAGH!"

The shriek drew everyone's attention to the south wall.

A dark figure strode from the shattered window. Glass crunched under unseen hooves.

Smoke billowed from its left arm, the hazy silhouette morphed into a broad, organic gun.

On the east side of the room, replikas stared dumbfounded.

"...the fuck is that?" Ishtar breathed, arms up defensively.

"I...don't know..." Ernest said, backing away slowly. Eyes wide.

"It's..." Shahrazad whispered, shaking like a leaf. Color drained from her face, as her bioresonance drank in the obscenity before her. The blasphemous marriage of flesh and darkness and the vilest energies of the Warp. "It's not..."

Breach blinked, then paused. Nudged her girlfriend's arm. "Ish...the emergency message..."

"What?" Ernest whispered, brows furrowed in confusion.

Ishtar blinked. Cycled through her digital interface. Then frowned, swallowing.

"That's...the 'Chaos thing' Marce was talking about..."

Hot air huffed from unseen, clenched teeth. The roiling, vaguely person-shaped mass of darkness took another step. Peeking through the shade, pinpricks of ice-blue light drank in the assembled, paralyzed mass of blood-bags.

Without another word, the Infernus Abomination opened fire again.

 

"[Shit! You're seeing this right!?]"

The Assassin on the roof leapt to his feet.

Behind red eye lenses, carnage filled his view. Carnage and darkness.

"I see it," he sub-vocalized, scowling behind his mask. He snatched up the weapon propped against the chimney, and fixed it to his back. "Status report."

"[Unengaged]," returned the Callidus. "[Shit. Horus has Warp assassins now?]"

"Looks like it," the Assassin on the roof said, running toward the south side. Feet unnaturally silent on blue tile.

"[Aggrieve or Abscond?]"

"Abscond," said the man, waiting until the last moment to rip his eye-lenses off and stow them in his belt. Bare eyes glared into the night from mask-holes, mind processing all the combat data it could from those scant few seconds. "Stick to your side of the mission."

"[Acknowledged]," she said. "[And you?]"

The Assassin checked ammunition on his sidearm, then leaped off the edge of the roof.

"I'll stick to mine."

Chapter 129: Infernus Abomination

"[...it's approaching from the south side. Or...whichever the opposite of the bay is.]"

Barked orders. Stomping boots. Salty breeze. Moonlight glinted off rippling water.

Guards rushed from the dark, assuming defensive positions on the veranda.

Shunk.

"Huh?" a guard grunted, head swiveling around from where he posted behind a support pillar.

Eyes widened in surprise, as a shock of blue hair popped out of an open window.

"I'm almost...out!" Meryl grunted, squeezing through the opening. Weight shifted suddenly, and her hand clawed the air as she squawked in shock. "Ah! Shit!"

"Easy, easy!" Kite said, grabbing the Eule from behind to steady her.

"What are you lot doing?" called the guard, hefting his laslock. "Get back inside!"

"Oof!" Meryl breathed, hopping onto the veranda. She looked up at the Star attempting to slip through. Then turned to the guard, clapping her hands apologetically. "Sorry! But we need to get out of here! There's a monster on the loose!"

"How did...nevermind," the guard said, shaking his head. He pointed to the window. "It's not safe out here! Take shelter indoors!"

"But it's on the south side!" Kite grunted, sticking both legs out and dropping. Her hooves clacked on white stone tiles. Hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "You should be over there!"

"..." The guard blinked, then shook his head again. Clenched a fist is exasperation. "Be that as it may," he said, "there may be more threats surrounding the villa! We can't guarantee your safety if..."

"Oh, stuff it!" Dorian said, poking his head out the window. "Just let go already!"

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Everyone froze. The sound of muffled lasfire wafted in. Their eyes probed the darkness, but saw no flashes of scarlet.

"Merde!" grunted the guard, pressing a finger to his ear, listening over short-wave vox.

"We need to move," Kite said, crouching and checking each direction rapidly, "now!"

Meryl, ducking below the railing with hands over her head, peeked out into the dark. Her eyes widened. "...!"

In the far distance, silhouetted against moonlight reflected in the sea, a bow-legged figure with a staff retreated from the villa.

 

"Hah...hah...twists! Ya there?"

Huffing and puffing, the abhuman rested against a large, cold boulder. Looked hastily over his shoulder, hand-vox pressed to his ear.

"Answa' me, gods take ya!" grunted the Davinite priest, fangs flashing in the moonlight. "Where are-"

No sound issued from the vox speaker. No response forthcoming.

"..." The mutant's face rose, eyes spotting flashes of scarlet along the upper edge of the roof, and filtered through the ballroom windows.

He smiled, stowing his device. "Guess ya ran afoul a' the 'cargo'," he grunted, eyeing the villa. "Musta been that horn I 'eard before."

Turning away, he hobbled toward the edge of the cliff, and tentatively looked down. A sheer drop yawned below, ending in a mass of water-worn stones against which waves crashed. The Davinite shivered, pulling back, then smiled again. "No matta. Gods preserve ya, twists. Ya did ya duty."

The Davinite priest picked his way slowly along the coast to the east, aiming for the backup vehicle he stowed days before.

"Those blue-bloods're about to get a rude awakening..."

 

"Excuse me! Hallo!"

The coat-check girl blinked, a lit cigarette in her mouth. "...uh...hello?"

The Kranich leaned heavily on the counter. Smiled. "Hi," she said, quickly, "me again. I need certain personal items from my party. Like, right now."

The gestalt woman blinked. Looked between the replika and the pair of pilots in green and cream behind her. "...uh..." she said. Smiled, snubbing out her cig on an ash tray. "C-certainly! What do our valued guests need?"

"My commander's sword and laspistol," Natasha said, with complete confidence. She flashed her teeth brightly. "Please and thank you!"

"Uhhhh..." the woman gaped, eyes widening. She shot a glance at the pair of guards near the door. "Is...Lady Elster intending to leave?"

"Oh no, not at all," Natasha said, shaking her head. Kept smiling. "I'm afraid the situation here is about to deteriorate rapidly, and I need those arms..."

"I-I-I can't d-do that!" the gestalt said, holding her hands up. "Guests aren't permitted..." She tried to raise her voice. "Securi-!"

The guards pressed their fingers to their ears, and hefted their laslocks. Made to exit the front door.

"W-wait!" the woman cried, holding a hand out. "Come ba-!"

She froze, as the Kranich leaned across the counter.

Light from the overhead lamp glinted off an inverted triangle of stars on the replika's forehead. The Spy stared into the woman's eyes, severely. Her smile dropped. Pointed a finger.

"You shall retrieve Lady Elster's sword and pistol," Natasha said, voice vibrating in her throat. Mind projected her Will. "I command it."

On the plane ethereal, she finagled her way into the coat girl's mind, and carefully plucked the correct strings. A pizzicato domination.

Skin bristling with goosebumps, the gestalt's brows rose. Eyes turned glassy, unfocused. Mouth slackened.

Her voice came low, and slow. Breathy, and far away. "...I...shall retrieve...Lady Elster's...sword...and pistol..."

"Tres bien," Natasha breathed, clapping and smiling. "Hop to it, now! Rapidement!"

She watched the coat check girl wander off in a daze, then turned around. Frowned. "..."

"...you..." Christophe said, gritting his teeth. Narrowed his eyes.

"...a psyker," Chrétian said, frowning severely. He took a step back. Erected his mental defenses.

"Father, as you can see, we can't trust this woman," Christophe whispered, stepping in front of the elder pilot.

"First of all, that's rich coming from you, herr Christophe," Natasha said, pointing a finger lazily at the Third Prince of Leclair. "Second..." She sighed, and smiled sadly at the High King. "...I'm sorry you had to see that, mein Konig."

Chrétian glanced at his son, then crossed his arms. Stared at the Kranich. "What happens now? When you get your weapons, do you plan to hold us hostage?"

"Oh, nothing of the sort," Natasha said, waving a hand. She leaned back on the coat counter, drumming her fingers impatiently. "I'm afraid there wasn't time to be more subtle."

"Why?" Chrétian said, narrowing his eyes. His brows rose fractionally. "...wait..."

"What?" Christophe said, glancing over his shoulder. "What is-?"

"I'm afraid, herrs Leclair," Natasha said, glancing over her shoulder, anxiously seeking the coat-check girl, "that things are about t-"

Blam. Blam.

Screams rang out, filtered in through the ballroom doors.

Blam, Blam. Blam.

The trio froze. A second later, guards stormed back in through the front door, shouting.

Blam. Blam-blam. Blam.

"...shit!" Christophe grunted, looking to the doorway. "What was th-"

Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as scarlet flashed through the doorway.

"...about to get loud."

 

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

Zap, zap, zap. Zap-zap.

"AAAAGH!"

Blood. Bedlam. Laslock bolts.

"Father!" cried Gervais St. Blaise, crouched low. Hands shook the portly, bloodied body on the floor. "Father, can you hear me!?"

"Grgglle..." gurgled Sir Didier, Regent of Fadehome. Eye lenses stared stupidly at the ceiling, platinum speckled with scarlet. He struggled to raise his arm. "...haaaah...G-Ger...gllr...va~is..."

Rapidly, black veins spread across his face and hands. Skin grew drawn and taut. Lips cracked. Arm dropped.

"...aaah!" Gervais breathed in horror, as his father shriveled up like a mummy before his very eyes. "F-father!"

Incoherent screams. Running, shoving. Bodies crushed in their press to escape.

BLAM! BLAM! Shing!

"Grraaagh!" cried Thaddeus Zeranor, shoes sliding on tile before losing purchase. Gore dripped on the floor.

The young St. Blaise snapped from his mind-blasting shock, as a severed arm flopped on the floor in front of him. He looked up, eyes dilating, jaw slack. "..."

Slam!

Double doors thrown open. Foot- and hoof-steps.

"Th-there it is!" cried one of the guards, as he and his companion rushed into the cavernous room. He leveled his laslock.

The Mother of Machines slid to a stop a few steps behind them. Looked across the room. Her eyes widened. "...was ist...?"

Dominating the center of the ballroom, a figure in the vague suggestion of a man stood. Swathed in dark, that billowed and writhed off bulging muscles and taut skin. Smoke wreathed its left arm, which distended toward the end like the barrel of an organic cannon, lined with teeth.

Blood dripped from the end of its right arm, long and tapered into a blade that pierced the twitching, maimed body of Sir Thaddeus Zeranor.

"Fucking...hell!" Brice gasped, stumbling to a stop against a support pillar. "Th-Thaddeus!"

"Oh Empress!" Vanessa cried, clapping both hands over her mouth. Eyes wide, she backed up into Felix's waiting arms.

"What the hell is...?" Felix breathed, before glancing at the Eule. He threw himself in front of her. "Wh-what do we do?"

Mere meters from the creature, the young St. Blaise quaked. Then gritted his teeth.

"Wh-what are you waiting for!?" Gervais yelled, head jerking around to the slowly growing ranks of household guard. "Open fire!"

"No!" cried Roselyne Zeranor, trembling and hugging herself. She held a hand out. "My husb-!"

"Lady Zeranor, we need to leave!" Ernest yelled, grabbing her shoulders. "Now!"

"Yeah, come on!" Ishtar yelled, running over and grabbing the old woman's arm. "Breach!" she yelled over her shoulder, "get Shah out of here!"

"R-right!" Breach yelled, ducking down and physically hoisting the Kolibri over her shoulder.

"Ah!" Shahrazad yelped, limbs splayed out.

Legs kicking, old man Zeranor gagged, gritting his teeth. Only remaining fist slammed repeatedly against the shadowed spike impaling him. "Nnh! Hah..." His eyes widened, as black veins spread across his skin. Thaddeus turned pale, gasping in pain and terror. "...n-...naaa!"

"I said OPEN FIRE!" Gervais screamed, tucking his hands under his father's armpits. "NOW!"

Zap-zap-zap-zap-zap-zap-zap. Zap-zap. Zap-zap-zap.

Blue tiles turned purple, and white tiles scarlet. Laslock bolts poured in from all directions, aimed inward toward the center of the ballroom.

Already frantic cries of panicked guests turned into screams. Stray las bolts struck men and women crowding the exit behind the creature. Limbs and backs exploded in superheated gore, filling the air alongside plaster dust and shattered tile fragments.

For its part, the Infernus Abomination threw the old, meaty pilot's body in front as a human shield.

"Nooooo!" cried Roselyne, struggling feebly against hands dragging her toward the foyer entrance. "THADDEUS!"

"This is madness!" Albert screamed, running behind the two guards that arrived with them. He shook their shoulders. "Stop! For the love of all that's holy, stop!"

"Forget it" cried one of the guards, spraying shots with abandon. "He killed ou-...oh no!"

Shadows momentarily sprayed off the creature's frame, the Daemon Assassin grinned behind a skull-shaped faceguard. Red, aggrieved skin, stretched over grotesque muscles, burned and burst with each shot that found its way around the rapidly disintegrating man-shield. If this pained the creature, it didn't show. Instead, it held the injured man aloft higher.

"...haaaahh...!"

Thaddeus groaned. What life remained in the heavily damaged elder of House Zeranor drained rapidly. Shriveled, as vital fluids sucked out into the creature's jagged, organic spike. The Abomination drank him greedily.

With each liter drained, the Daemon Assassin's flesh roiled and writhed. Flesh craters closed, and cracked bones knit back together. "...nnnnrrrrr...." it breathed, head twitching. It pulled its arm back, hefting the huge, limp load.

"Why won't it die!?" Brice barked, resting one hand against a pillar.

"Seriously!" Felix yelled, dragging Vanessa to the side to allow several panicked party-goers to pass. "What the hell is that!?"

"..." Dash knelt by her mother, glancing at her. The Star reached back and drew her own talon-knife.

"..." Elster met the Star's glance, then stared at the creature, brows high. She flinched, throwing up an arm. "Take cover!"

"Ngh!" the Abomination grunted, before tossing the Zeranor pilot's corpse across the room. It flew, charred and pulped, up to the second level.

"Argh!" cried household guard, as the cadaver slammed into one of their number. The soldiers scattered in panic, the faces of the nearest spattered with blood.

"Shit!" Albert grunted, looking up at the underside of the balcony.

Breathing hard, Elster looked at the shadowed creature. Then, her heart skipped a beat. Eyes widened, as she felt a pall of dread.

"Move!" yelled the mother of machines, patting the shoulders of Dash and Felix. "Now!"

Bereft of cover, the creature side-stepped and backflipped to evade a disordered return volley of laslock fire. With cracking bones and tearing skin, its spike-arm turned into a whip that flew behind it toward a group of people crowded against the south wall. It sliced a party guest across the face in a shower of blood, herding several more away from the exit and toward the west end of the ballroom.

Then, it pointed its left arm.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

High-velocity spikes shot out from its orifice, unerringly piercing several guards.

"AGH!"

"NGH!"

"SHHH-AAAGH!"

"Move, move, move!" Elster yelled, pushing those around her forward. "To the foyer!"

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

They darted forward, just in time for a volley of spikes to slam into the hallway door behind them. Multiple fleeing guests crumpled in a shower of gore.

Running low, Elster flashed a glare at the creature.

Its ice-blue eyes pierced the gloom, meeting the gaze of the Blade of the Arkifane. Wordless, its meaning clear.

'There will be no escape.'

"Aaaagh!" Vanessa screamed, throwing an arm over her head as Felix led her hand-in-hand in a dead sprint.

She looked to her left, beneath the shade of her arm. Saw the shadow of a household guard she met only moments before fall over her.

BLAM-BLAM!

"ARGH!"

"GAAAH!"

Vanessa felt blood splat against her cheek. Her eyes dilated, as the two gestalts fell to the ground. "...!"

"Come on!" Felix breathed, looked back at her. His heart skipped a beat.

They watched the men, writhing on the ground, shrivel and gasp. Black veins crawled across their skin as it dried and clung to their bones.

"Keep moving!" Albert yelled, waving them over from behind a support pillar. "Allez!"

"Dammit!" Brice yelled, crouched low behind a guard. He eyed the young Gervais across the room, as the lad desperately tried to drag his no-doubt already dead father. "...where's dad?"

"Foyer!" Elster barked, picking up a fallen guard's laslock and handing it to Dash. When she saw the Second Prince of Leclair's confusion, she growled, "Don't ask, just go! Schnell!"

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Ishtar grumbled, as she and Ernest ran low, the weeping old woman carried between them. She watched Breach and Shahrazad disappear through the foyer entrance.

BLAM-BLAM!

"Come on!" Felix gasped, pulling the Eule along. "We're almost-"

Vanessa, panting, clinging to his hand, glanced toward the creature. "...!"

Saw it settle after a bid of acrobatics, then aim its organic weapon directly at them. Its shadowy face briefly assumed the form of a beaked skull. Its empty sockets occupied by pinpricks of light, sole rulers of a skyful of murdered stars.

Her heart skipped a beat. The Eule thought of Bertha. Of the creature who murdered her. Vanessa gritted her teeth, and let go of the young pilot's hand. Ran forward, shutting her eyes.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

 

"...verdammt!"

As panicked footsteps and cries filled the salty air, a figure erupted from the hedge in a shower of leaves.

"..." Panting, Marceline's unseen eyes alighted to the glow in the windows. Saw the bright, scarlet flashes, against a backdrop of a moonlit crowd.

All beneath the shadow of towering Knight suits, whose vigil failed to prevent a threat storming the villa.

"...shit..." the 'Maus groaned, pulling a stray twig from her dark brown hair. She brushed a trickle of oxidizing fluid from a cut on her cheek with the back of her hand, and ran forward. Hooves clacked on cobblestone steps as she ascended.

"'scuse me! One side!" Marceline said, pushing into a wall of people. Gritted her teeth, as men and women bumped and shoved into her tiny frame. She felt a musician's flute jam painfully into her side. "Ow! H-hey, watch it! I need to...cut it out!"

Unfortunately, whatever crowd-clearing effect her Null field might have produced, it didn't override pure, unadulterated terror. One or two people even seemed intent on grabbing her and taking her with them. Unreasoning fear, or compassion for the child in their midst?

"Hey! Stop touching me!" Marceline cried, face flushed. She punched a grasping hand away, and threatened another man with a knife. "Back off!"

She threw her weight at the problem, trying to muscle through. But though her steel skeleton afforded her not insubstantial weight, her wiry muscles fell short of the task of navigating the tide.

"Let me through!" the 'Maus yelled, feeling her hooves lose purchase of the steps. The press of bodies alone swept her along, carrying her down the steps. "Stop! I have to...STOP!"

She saw flashes of scarlet in the windows. Heard screams. Sweat ran down her face. One eye peeked from between locks of hair. Brows furrowed in desperation, as she screamed to be heard over the tumult.

"I'm supposed to stop it! Please! It's MY JOB!"

 

"Agh!"

Felix cried out, freezing up. His heart skipped a beat, as a form in a red dress threw herself in front of him.

"ARGH!"

"AAAH!"

Two guards fell, clutching their chests.

"Ngh!" Vanessa grunted, arms thrown up in front of her face. She felt high-velocity spikes slam into her forearms.

"Van!" Dash yelled, eyes wide.

"...ah!" Felix gasped, throwing his arms out to catch her. "No!"

"..." Elster, heart stopped, looked over to her eldest Eule. Medical module already paralyzed, attempting to assess visible damage. She gritted her teeth, then growled, "NOOOOOO!"

She bolted from under the balcony and ran toward the creature, blade drawn.

"Dammit!" Brice barked, then ran after her. He gripped his jacked in his hand, and threw it in the monster's face.

"Nnnnrrrr!" growled the creature, plunged into darkness. Its right arm morphed viscerally into a clawed hand, attempting to tear the green and cream fabric off.

"Get away from my babies!" Elster yelled, slicing the creature's thigh. Scarlet sprayed out in a wide arc.

"And my brother!" Brice grunted, pulling back his fist and punching the creature in the jaw. Winced, feeling a metal impact through his knuckles and travel up his arm. "Ggnh!"

The Daemon Assassin staggered, surprised.

"Vanessa!"

Felix knelt behind the Eule, skin broke out in a cold sweat. He shook her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"Van!" Dash cried, glancing away from cover where she trained her pilfered laslock on the creature. "VAN!"

"How is she?" Albert said, kneeling at his youngest brother's side.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Vanessa hissed, hands shaking. She turned her arms, inspecting the damage. Saw twin spikes, finger-length and bearing thin strips of red flesh on their back edges. They throbbed, disgorging black ichor into her bloodless limbs. "...ah...I-I'm okay..."

"Why did...?" Felix breathed. He gritted his teeth and pulled her up. "Nevermind. Come on!"

"Take this," Dash said, throwing her mother's fur coat over the Eule. Then retook her position, shouting, "now get out of here!"

"Yes, move!" Albert said, pushing them forward. Watched Eule and Prince run off toward the doors.

He glanced at the disordered brawl between creature, replika, and his own brother. Then, looked down at his feet. "Gervais!"

"Hnngh!" grunted the young St. Blaise, dragging his father's shriveled cadaver. Looked over his shoulder, sweating. "Albert...cousin, please! Help me!"

He flinched, as the Leclair Prince gripped his shoulder.

"Your father is fallen, Gervais," Albert said, soberly. Looked straight into the youth's eyes. "You must leave him!"

Gervais gritted his teeth in panic. "No, I-!"

"As acting Regent, your people need your leadership!" Albert barked. "Move!"

"Naagh!"

Elster staggered back, hand clutching at her arm. Felt a row of claw marks rend her shoulder. Deep enough to hurt, shallow enough not to cut her artificial muscle fibers. "...verdammt..."

"C-come on!" Brice grunted, bloodied fists raised and swaying. He spat, dodging another blind slash. He pulled back for a heavy punch. "Take-"

Riiiip.

The Second Prince of Leclair blanched. Eyes widening. "..."

Darkness swirled around the creature's exposed face. What once was a void, now sculpted for a moment into a desaturated, pale blue face. A face scarred, with a bushy gray beard and mustache, and skin torn off its right side. A deep, purple ghostlight leaked from the depths of its ravaged eye socket.

Brice's blood ran cold. He choked out, "...uncle?"

Shing!

"Brice!" Albert yelled from across the room.

"Argh!" Brice groaned, staggering back, clutching his chest. Blood welled from a row of claw-marks, staining cream shirt scarlet. Eyes blinked in alarm. "..."

The creature cast aside the tatters of the jacket, and stalked forward.

Crash!

Knife raised defensively, Elster froze. Eyes widened. "..."

Shunk. Shunk shunk.

"Graagh!"

The Abomination hunched forward fractionally, grunting in pain. It clenched its claw, then looked over its shoulder. A sweeping suggestion of a metal cable hung from the back of its skull.

Glowing eyes glared, and teeth gritted. A trio of thin, finger-length needles stuck out of its back, leaking poison impotently into its veins.

Injured party-goers, until now shivering or playing dead, shrank back in surprise.

Soft, black-clad footsteps crunched on glass. Toned muscles rippled beneath synthskin. Combi-pistol leveled at the creature's heart, its base bolter augmented with a thin-barreled Needler attachment. A bronze skull emblazoned the rear of the bulky firearm.

The figured approached the monster with the practiced, relaxed gait of one accustomed to single combat.

After all, he was. Few counted themselves as prepared as one trained since adolescence, in methods of murder made perfect before the Unification Wars. Before the other Temples were even theory.

Back behind a pillar, Dash cocked an eyebrow. "...the hell is this guy?"

"..." Elster blinked. Stared at the lithe, imposing figure.

Eyes fixed coldly on the creature, the Adamus Assassin reached over his shoulder. Fingers touched the handle of his Nemesii Blade.

"..."

Notes:

I could have included a Vindicare Assassin, as many people suspected. But a Vindicare and Callidus, teaming up to bump off some Knight pilots? It's been done.

And really, it's the Horus Heresy. Whenever else am I going to be able to deploy an Adamus Assassin?

Chapter 130: Ballroom Blitz

"Why did you do that!?"

Terrified cries. Weeping. Trembling. Stink of sweat, and blood.

People crowded the foyer, warily eyeing the double doors. Winced with each intermittent flash of scarlet.

Ernest Leclair and Breach held the sobbing form of the Zeranor matriarch. Ishtar searched in vain for a discarded laslock, or some other weapon, with which she could join the fight. Albert Leclair stood beside Sir Gervais St. Blaise, as the acting Regent shakily coordinated over vox with what remained of his security staff.

Natasha stood before coat check. Impatiently drummed fingers on the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the false Balder Brandywich, slinking along the foyer wall across the room.

In the shadow of a pillar, draped in her mother's blue-black pelt, Vanessa knelt by Shahrazad. Eyes downcast, staring at the black, organic spikes embedded in her forearms. Winced, as the Kolibri used pliers looted from a utility closet to pull them out.

The Eule whimpered. "...I don't..."

"You could have been killed!" Felix yelled, arms outstretched. Sweat poured down his face, as he gritted his teeth. "That was reckless!"

"Calm down, son!" Chrétian said, patting the young pilot's shoulder. Frowned. "Just be glad you're all alive!"

"But...but she's not supposed to risk her life like that!" Felix said, looking over his shoulder. He turned to the Eule, furrowing his brow. "I'm a Knight! I'm the one who should hav-"

"Yes, but you're a gestalt! A normal human!" Vanessa gasped, raising her head to glare at the pilot. Color ran to her face. "I'm a replika!"

"...a...replika?" Felix said, inching back in confusion. "What?"

"A replika?" Chrétian said, stroking his gray beard. He looked sidelong at his third son. "What does that mean? Christophe, do you...?"

"..." Christophe Leclair eyed the cyborg pensively. The cyborg...who saved his brother's life. "...a distinction irrelevant to our current predicament." He glanced to his patriarch. "I'll tell you later."

Felix and Vanessa blinked at the Third Prince, curiously. The gestalt because he lacked context. The replika because she realized the pilot with glasses knew what she was...yet didn't use it to condemn her.

The Eule looked down, then scowled. Lifted her arm. Black ichor wept from the hole bored in her white, polyethylene skin. Grimaced at the younger Prince. "Look," she said, "I'm mostly machine! These limbs...this body...it can be repaired and replaced! Not like you!"

Shahrazad flashed the Eule a concerned look. Read the sentiment Vanessa thought, yet dared not voice.

'I'm a replika. Mom can make more Eules. She can't make more of you.'

"...V-Vanessa..." Felix breathed, staring shocked. He unclenched his fists, and knelt in front of the Eule. "Please...don't...be so cavalier about your life..."

"...du narr..." Vanessa sobbed, teardrops forming at the edges of her eyes. She bowed her head. "...you stupid, stupid..."

A lump formed in Felix's throat. He leaned forward and hugged the Eule. "...it's alright. It'll be okay..."

"..." Vanessa sniffed, and hugged the lad back.

"Hmm..." Chrétian breathed, stepping away. Smiled. Looked at his older son, whispering. "They look lovely together, eh?"

"..." Christophe narrowed his eyes. Crossed his arms, muttering, "...dammit..."

This complicated matters. Everything seemed so easy, before...

"Finally!"

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack.

The two pilots turned, as the Kranich quickly strode past them.

"Ah!" Chrétian said, raising his voice. "Where are you-?"

Natasha clutched two weapons in her hands. Eyes locked on the ballroom door.

 

Commander! Get ready!

Scent of blood, and singed meat. Moans of the injured, and whimpers of the petrified. Shriveled bodies littered the vast, opulent room.

Behind a support pillar, a Star leveled looted laslock. Crouched in front of the pillar, the Second Prince of House Leclair panted, hand clutching chest that wept scarlet.

In the center, surrounded on three sides, two Assassins regarded one another gravely. One clad in black synthskin, fingers curled around the handle of the blade on his back. The other, swathed in dark, muscles rippling invisibly beneath aggrieved skin.

Behind the Abomination, the replika commander turned her head fractionally. Looked sidelong over her shoulder, at the Kranich sneaking amid a pile of corpses by the foyer doors, weapons in hand.

"..." Elster's mouth twitched. She gripped her Xenos talon-blade. Understood.

She looked at each other unpossessed combatant in turn. Heart thrummed in her chest at a rapid beat.

Dash?

The Star's eyes darted to her mother. Dash nodded, and aimed down sights at the monster.

Sir Leclair? Are you ready?

Brice flinched, eyeing the replika commander uneasily. Then, clenched his fists, and stared soberly at the monster. Nodded.

Elster looked over the broad shoulders of the Abomination, to regard the strange offcomer.

...we need to attack toge-

"..." The Adamus Assassin narrowed his eyes, not taking them off the Abomination. Stay out of my way, psyker...

"..." Elster crouched. Gritted her teeth.

"NOW!"

By that signal, Natasha grunted, sliding sword and laspistol across the tiled floor.

The Infernus Abomination jerked its head around, looking over its shoulder.

Everyone burst into action.

BAM-BAM-BAM!

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

Zap-Zap-Zap!

Elster turned around and ran, bent low. Scarlet bolts, bolter shells, and daemon-organic spikes flew. She sensed some fly over her head. Reached out her hands and slid on her knees.

Assassins circled one another, dashing and flipping to evade the flurry of shots sent each other's way.

"Fucking die!" Dash growled, firing from cover.

Superheated light struck the Abomination's hide once, twice. Flesh sizzled. "Nnnnrrrr!" it growled, tumbling forward to interpose the Loyalist Assassin between itself and the Star. Aimed its arm-gun.

BLAM-BLAM!

"Tch!" The Adamus dove sideways, reversing direction to run toward the back wall.

"Shit!" Dash cried, ducking behind cover as spikes pelted her position. One embedded in the wall behind her, pumping black ichor into plaster and staining the blue wallpaper.

Charge it! Elster thought, flicking the scabbard from her sword. It sparked to life, coruscating lightning wreathing the blade in a blue glow. She leveled her laspistol.

"Rrrraaaagh!" Brice bellowed, running full pelt alongside the replika commander.

Zap! Zap! Zap!

"Rrrgh!" the Abomination grunted, shielding its face with its left arm. It backstepped, before glowing blue eyes snapped to its left.

The Adamus ran along the back wall, and kicked off toward the monster. He drew his Nemesii blade.

Shing!

Blood sprayed from shadowed flesh, as the blade carved a shallow wound. The Abomination backflipped, then raised its right arm. Bones cracked audibly and skin ripped, as it violently reformed the limb into a sword blade.

Shing!

Elster swung down, nipping its bone-blade like a knife through butter.

"Ngh! Hah!" Brice grunted, jabbing once, twice at the creature. He threw another punch at its face, only to wince as he connected with a metal plate. He backed off to evade a wild counter-swing, shaking his hand as his knuckles bled. "Ow!"

Keep the pressure on! Elster thought, readying her blade. A twinge of dread sent her ducking another swing, before she rolled to the side.

"..." The Adamus set his jaw, letting the telepathic contact roll off his mind like water off a duck's back.

Shing, shing, shing, shing, shing!

Sandwiched between two spinning blades, the Abomination whirled and parried. Ducked and swiped and kicked.

The three were a blur of motion. Whether through minor bioresonant prognostication, or simple honed reflexes, each combatant evaded killing blows by inches.

Or, in the case of the Daemon Assassin, only nicked its flesh shallowly. It knew the tolerances of its own body to harm, and exploited them ruthlessly.

"Nnnnrrrrr!" the Abomination growled, hopping and crane-kicking at the replika with a large, shadowed hoof. When it sent her dodging back, it twisted and aimed its organic gun at the Adamus.

"Ngh!" Brice grunted, running low and shoulder-checking the creature in the legs as it landed. He followed through, rising to full height to send the Daemon Assassin toppling over.

"..." Reacting quickly, the Adamus swiped at the creature's face, sparking against its mask, then leveled his Needlespine Blaster.

BAM-BAM!

The Abomination rolled, bolter rounds exploding blue and white floor tiles. Ceramic fragments burst into the air, as it got a hoof under it and morphed its right arm.

Organic tendrils whipped out. The Adamus shuffled his feet, avoiding it. But the creature anticipated this, sweeping the tendrils across the ballroom. They latched onto an injured party guest on the floor.

"AAAAAGH!" the terrified Waite pilot screamed, dragged toward the melee at high speeds.

"Shit!" Elster grunted, stopping her charge. Dove sideways as the Abomination leveled its arm gun at her.

BLAM!

"Ngh!" the Adamus grunted, backflipping over the wailing pilot as he sailed under him. Twisted in the air, and leveled his blaster.

BAM-BAM.

"GLARGH!" the Waite pilot gurgled, as the bolter round took his arm clean off. Behind him, the Abomination stood up straight. The pilot's eyes widened, as bony spikes erupted from the creature's right arm, impaling him.

His eyes rolled back, as his lifeblood sucked from his body.

"Get off him!" Brice grunted, waiting until the Adamus stopped firing. He raised his fists.

A mote of dread.

Duck! Elster thought, going low.

The Abomination spun around, allowing its right tendril arm to extend. It swept in a 360 degree arc around it, carrying the drained pilot with it like a flail.

"Shit!" Brice grunted, stumbling to the floor and covering his head.

"..." The Adamus bent his kneels and pitched back, allowing the improvised weapon to sail mere centimeters over his nose. He aimed one last round.

BAM.

"...scheisse!" Elster breathed, aborting her own attempt to fire, to duck a bolter shot. She glared at the Loyalist. Watch where you're shooting!

Stop getting in the way! the Adamus thought, ejecting the spent bolter magazine with a flick of his wrist.

Zap, zap, zap, zap.

"Nnnrrr!" the Abomination grumbled, tossing the depleted corpse at the Star through a hail of las bolts, then bolted after it. Pointed its organic gun.

BLAM, BLAM, BLAM!

"Fuck, shit, fuck!" Dash grunted, dodging first a corpse that splattered messily against the support pillar, then rolling out of cover in advance of the organic munitions.

"No!" Elster shouted, chasing the creature and leveling her laspistol.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

The Abomination snapped a few more shots at the Star (BLAM. BLAM.), then leaped. Kicked off the pillar itself, sailing high through the air. It extended a tendril, seizing the shriveled corpse of a guard on the second floor.

"...!" Elster dove forward, allowing the corpse to sail over her head. Rolled to her hooves.

BLAM-BLAM.

The Adamus calculated the Daemon Assassin's arc, then ran forward. Raised his blaster, thumb cycling firing modes.

Shunk, shunk, shunk.

Needles sailed through the air, embedding in the Abomination's chest. If the deadly toxins within hampered the creature, it didn't betray this weakness. The shadowed form dove at the Loyalist, tendril morphing into a blade.

Shing, shing, shing.

The two Assassins parried each other, the Adamus sliding on his knees as the Abomination flipped upside down over him.

Brice charged as the creature hit the ground, pulling back a punch. "Get over..."

The Abomination rolled, allowing the punch to sail over it. Came to a stop on its back, and pulled in its legs.

"...here?" Brice breathed, looking down at the shadowed figure.

Two heavy hooves slammed into the Prince's chest, sending him flying into the second floor balcony.

Smack!

"...hhhhaaaahh!" Brice gasped, rolling over the collapsed silver railing, and collapsing on the balcony floor. Clutched his chest, wind knocked out of him. Clenched his teeth, arcing his aiching back. "...gggnnngh!"

"Verdammt!" Elster grunted, stepping back and aiming her laspistol.

Shing.

The Abomination, rolling to its hooves, sliced the laspistol in half with its arm blade. It sparked, casting its business end on the floor.

"Fuck!" Elster cried, eyes widening. She rolled away from another strike, and threw the ruined remains of her pistol in the creature's face. Swiped with her power sword, glowing blade biting across its back.

By sense of dread, she dodged sideways, as the Adamus sliced the creature's neck, then aimed his blaster.

Shunk, shunk.

Arcing its back and twisting to one side, the Abomination reached toward its chest with its left hand. The wide, organic gun barrel deformed, its clawed end pulling a jar of green liquid from its bandolier, hidden by shadows.

The Adamus pulled back his blade, and made to decapitate the monster.

"...!" He flinched, eyes wide.

Creature looked Assassin in the eyes. Darkness resolved itself into the wrinkled, hooded, milky-eyed countenance of a man. The only man whose severe expression inspired fear in the Assassin's heart: the Master of Assassins himself.

For a brief moment, experienced killer felt himself back in the Temple, a thin and feeble youth. Knelt before the withering gaze of...

"Nnh!" he grunted, training alone allowing him to retreat from the Abomination's strike as it resolved its right arm into a claw for close-range murder.

It wasn't done, however. The Abomination spun, using its left arm to smash the bottle of liquid on the floor behind the Adamus, just as it caught the replika's power sword blade with its right.

Smash!

"...!" The Adamus's heart skipped a beat. Conscious mind still catching up to the horror of its vision, he spread his stance wide to evade the puddle of sizzling acid as it spread behind him. Pushed off the ground at a coy angle, to backflip over the hazard.

There was no thought. Only pure, ingrained instinct. A lifetime of drills. He spun in the air, facing the creature as the sizzling floor spread out above his head.

"Fuck!" Elster grunted, as the Abomination pulled her in with its claw, and kicked her in the chest. She flew back, barely able to maintain purchase on her blade.

Before either humans hit the floor, the Infernus Abomination spun again, and leveled its organic gun at the Loyalist.

"...!" With perfect awareness of his own body, he knew his blade wasn't fast enough from its present angle. The Adamus threw his right arm in front of him. Attempted to use his bulky firearm as a shield.

A micro-instant too slow.

BLAM!

Black, organic spike bounced off the outer edge of the blaster. Chipped paint off its ornate skull emblem.

As his body spun, it brought his forearm directly into the projectile's diverted path. Synthskin, capable of dissipating the force of small arms fire, tore like a thin layer of wax. He felt it plow into his forearm flesh, sprayed blood.

His eyes widened. Brain snapped fully back to the present.

Then, both Assassin and replika landed.

"Oof!" Elster grunted, rolling back to her hooves. Brandishing her power sword, her eyes widened. "...shit!"

Skidding to a halt on the other side of the acid puddle, the Adamus guarded with his blade as well. Eyes darting between Abomination, replika, and his arm. Saw it weep a mix of scarlet and black.

The Daemon Assassin rose to full height. From within shadow, its glowing eyes admired their handiwork. "..."

To call the luminaries of the Adamus Temple 'Observant' and 'Analytical' undersold the depth of their training. They existed to be able to study a foe, and match them in single combat in short order.

He already knew exactly what to do. Narrowing his eyes, he acted without hesitation.

Shing.

Blood sprayed from his stump, as his arm - severed below the elbow - tumbled to the ground, still clutching the Needlespine Blaster. Flesh shriveled beneath synthskin.

"Fuck off!"

ZAP, ZAP, ZAP, ZAP, ZAP.

Everyone dodged, as a hail of las bolts rained down on the Abomination. It flipped and rolled, red heat nipping at its hooves as it ran for the cover of the south balcony.

Keep him pinned! Elster thought, as she and the Loyalist retreated toward the Star.

Got it! Dash thought, spraying with wild abandon.

The two skidded to a stop, facing the Daemon Assassin.

"Hah...hah..." Elster panted. Side-eyed her erstwhile ally. "You okay?"

"..." Gasping, the Adamus planted his blade into the floor, perfectly between two tiles. Scarlet spilled on the white and blue ceramic at his feet. He fished a small, cylindrical object from his belt. Biting one end through his mask, he uncapped the syringe and jammed it into the raw, dripping meat of his stump. Thumbed the other end, injecting an unknown concoction.

Elster raised an eyebrow, glancing between Adamus and Abomination. "...coagulant?"

"Mmrh..." the Adamus grumbled, capping the syringe again and stowing it. Snapped up his blade, and brandished it defensively.

On its end, the Abomination grabbed a warm corpse, throwing it up as a shield. Raised a hoof, and slammed it into another body. A petrified party guest nearby squeaked in alarm, trying to crawl away.

Spikes erupted from the creature's hoof, drinking what lifeblood it could from the cadaver.

As scarlet blackened a marble pillar and scorched its unliving shield, the Infernus Abomination's body began to mend itself. Bones cracked, muscles knit, skin spread. The silhouette of its sliced shoulder closed. The shadow mantle it wore, patchy from abuse and exhaustion, flared to full blush again.

It peeked around cover, glowing blue eyes filled with hunger and hate.

Elster frowned. Side-eyed the Loyalist Assassin. Ready to work together?

"..." The Adamus spared the replika a glance, then stared forward. Adjusted his stance to compensate for the imbalance of his arm's absence. It needs to die now. We can't give it another chance to regenerate.

Got it, Elster thought, nodding. She fished her talon-blade from her sheath again. Hid it behind her, while holding her sword out. Anything else?

Whatever you see, he thought, tightening his sword grip, whatever face it steals, don't hesitate to kill.

Elster nodded. "..."

Another voice entered her mind.

Don't worry, Shahrazad thought. We've got your back, too.

Elster's brows rose. Then, she smiled. Good girl.

Zap, zap, zap, zzz-

"Shit!" Dash grunted, hefting her looted laslock. "Piece of..." She clenched her teeth. I'm out!

Sensing its opportunity, the Infernus Abomination charged, carrying two drained corpses.

"GO!" Elster yelled.

Blades flashing, the humans ran to meet the monster.

"Nnnnrrr!" the Abomination roared, throwing its payload. They flopped end over end, spraying gore.

The Adamus flipped over one corpse, kicking off it at the last moment.

BLAM-BLAM!

Extra height allowed the Loyalist to tumble over the (anticipated) volley of organic shot.

Elster, for her part, disappeared beneath the cadaver sent her way. Her form slid out, winding up a sword swing.

Huffing, the Abomination dashed forward and slashed at the replika ahead of the strike.

Its blow passed harmlessly through her body, as if a blade of grass through vapor.

"...!?" The creature's eyes widened, as the illusion broke harmlessly against its body. Then flinched, as the real replika charged a few steps behind her copy.

Shing, shing, shing, shing.

Elster and the Adamus laid into the creature, blades parrying and slashing.

Above, a groggy Second Prince leaned on the second floor railing. Clutching his chest, he gritted his teeth. "..."

Dodging and spinning, the Abomination stepped back and tried to fire its organic gun.

BLAM-Bl-

A shot passed harmlessly through an illusory replika, as Elster dove under the creature's guard and twisted her offhand. Talon-blade cut down the length of its left arm. As she rolled away, the Daemon Assassin's ammunition sac spilled its partially formed payload in a sticky mass all over the floor.

It recoiled, ducking the Adamus's decapitation strike. Its bones popped, reforming ranged weapon into a new claw. It kicked the Loyalist back, then lunged claw at his neck.

Another dodge. The Adamus stood on his knuckles, and wrapped his legs around the creature's arm. Used his weight to force it to stumble forward.

The Abomination had to flail with its blade to redirect Elster's blow, then tried to toss the man. The Loyalist let it go, so it turned and charged. "Nnnnrrrrr!"

It hesitated, as Elster seemed to split in two, each circling around a different direction. Looking frantically between the two, the creature turned both arms into tendrils and spun 360 degrees.

The real Elster turned around and backflipped, slicing the tendril with her power sword.

The Adamus performed a similar action from below, then hopped to his feet. He readied himself beside the replika.

"Nnnngh!" Old tendrils flopped uselessly on the ground. The Abomination, shaking its head angrily, began reforming its arms into new weapons.

"Remember me?"

Brice punched full force into the Daemon Assassin's back, sending it stumbling. He jumped back in time to avoid a retaliatory claw swipe.

Shing, shing.

It flinched, rolling away from the blades carving into its back. Sparks erupted from the cable protruding from the back of its head, as the rest of its length clattered to the floor. Creature turned to face them, seeing the blades as greater threats.

Performing a spin kick, the Adamus ducked a wild swipe, and carved deep into the creature's arm.

When the Abomination tried to strike again, he jumped to the side, rolling over the replika's back as she slashed once with her power sword, and then again with her talon-blade.

"Ssssss!" hissed the creature, redirecting the Adamus's strike, then charging the replika. It raked her across the back, though met no meat, only polyethylene and artificial muscle fibers.

"Ngh!" Elster grunted, gritting her teeth. She allowed the Adamus to drive the creature back a step, then pressed her left fist into the pommel of her blade. Prepared to thrust at the monster's face.

When she met its eyes, though, her blood ran cold.

Red eyes. Long, white hair. Ariane stared back at her.

Not healthy, cheerful Ariane. Nor even devastated, sorrowful Ariane. The Ariane who appeared in visions. Tortured, desolate, wrathful. The Red Queen, staring into the replika's soul.

As if to say, 'Remember Our Promise'.

Elster blanched. Then furrowed her brow.

That trick won't work anymore! she thought, as she thrust with all her might. "HAAAAAH!"

Her brief hesitation granted the Abomination only enough time to twist its head. Glowing steel scraped the side of its head. For an instant, pain and damage and light banished the shadows, exposing its black metal skull mask.

"NNNNRRR!" it groaned, as the teeth locked in place on the right side of its jaws melted in the face of a power weapon energy field. The Abomination staggered away, raking a shallow wound across the replika's shoulder in the bargain.

Shing, shing, shing.

Under a flurry of new slashes, the Abomination retreated one pace. Two paces.

"I'm still here, asshole!"

Dash dove in, slamming the butt of her laslock into the side of the creature's head. Frantically jumped back, her jacket torn by claws swung her way.

"And me!" Brice barked, taking his opening. He circled around and jabbed once, twice, three times against the monster. Tenderized roughly where the pilot assumed its kidneys were.

Not particularly honorable. But fuck it, Brice was pissed.

Staggering drunkenly forward, the Daemon Assassin made to attack the pilot, before the blades harrowed it again. It ducked the Adamus Assassin's high blow, then charged the replika. It met only another infuriating illusion, before stumbling back, power sword slashing across its chest in a shower of blood. Its bandolier came undone, clattering to the floor.

It slashed at the replika, then turned to attack the Adamus. Instead, the Star ran around its back, and swung her laslock like a bat into its head.

Crack!

Stars. Stars and tinnitus.

Shadows flickered and wafted like smoke, exposing patches of red, aggrieved flesh and deep lacerations across its whole body. It flailed wildly, bloody spittle flying from the new hole in the side of its mouth. Room. It needed more room. It-

"Rrrragh!" Elster roared, charging the creature, power sword high.

"..." The Adamus, not to be outdone, joined her, sliding under the monster's reach and slashing up.

Shing-shing!

"GggrrrAAAGH!"

Two inhuman arms flopped uselessly to the floor, as the Daemon Assassin stumbled past the two. Blood sprayed from its maimed shoulders. Head jerked violently.

Crunch!

"Finally!"

The Abomination's shining eyes opened wide. Its shadowy veil peeled away, layer by layer.

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack!

The Fledermaus sprinted across the floor. Brown hair flapping back with drag, eyes locked.

"Oop!" Marceline grunted, crouching down and leaping into the air.

"...!" Recoiling in terror, the disarmed daemonhost gaped with such force its jaw restraints broke open. Saw the glint of metal, as a shadow fell over it.

Slam!

Hoof claws embedded in red, aggrieved shoulders. Rocking for balance on the staggering creature, the 'Maus raised her arms and grabbed its black, skull facemask.

"Nnnnnnngghgghh!" the Abomination wheezed, shoulders sizzling on contact. Heart raced, terrified.

The last thing it saw was Marceline's thumbs, as she plunged them into its eyes. They popped like grapes.

The Infernus Abomination screamed, as its entire body burst into blue flames.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Holy shit!" Dash barked, staggering away in surprise.

Everyone shrank back, bathed in azure light and radiating heat. Air suffused with blood-curdling screams, and the acrid smell of sulfur.

"Tch!" Brows set, Marceline bared her shark teeth. Hair blown back by a continuous onrush of hot air. Blue light glinted off artificial eyes, brows furrowed intensely.

Beneath her baleful ministrations, the Infernus Abomination stumbled helplessly. Skin peeled back, then muscle. Bones cracked, augmetics sparked, and tissues turned to ash.

Even as its lungs disintegrated and voice tapered off into a final, ashy wheeze, the daemon kept screaming. Howled all the way into oblivion, until nothing remained.

Thump.

"Oop!" Marceline grunted, claws retracting from the immolated body as it fell to its knees. Hopped off, as the smoking carcass slumped back onto the floor.

Blue flames died, revealing a warped, blackened, crumbling skeleton. Skull locked in silent scream, behind a soot-covered mask from whence the last, dying embers guttered.

"..."

The others stared, transfixed, at the remains of the creature. Then, turned to the 'Maus.

"Hooo!" Marceline breathed, shaking her smoking hands. Blew on her thumbs, and studied them. Satisfied they weren't damaged, she glanced at her handiwork from behind heavy bangs. "Huh. Weird. Anyway, sorry I'm late..."

"..." Brice stared at the Fledermaus, shocked. "...wha-...what..."

"..." Elster sighed. Smiled. "No, sweetie, you're just in..."

She paused. Turned her head. "...hmm?"

The Adamus Assassin was missing. As was his severed arm and combi-pistol.

"Wait..." Dash said, head snapping up. Looked around. "Where'd that guy g-?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

The group froze. Heads snapped in the same direction.

Their blood ran cold.

The woman's scream came from the double doors to the foyer.

Chapter 131: Vive le Roi

"What...was that? D-do you think it's over?"

Salty air wafted through hair and skirts. Towering Knight suits cast deep shadows in the moonlight. Shell-shocked guards and blood-soaked nobility milled about, staring at the villa with trepidation.

Muffled, inhuman scream echoed in the distance. Died slowly.

Two sets of hooves, and one set of dress shoes, clacked on white cobblestone steps. Ascended reservedly.

"Hope so," Kite whispered, arm around the Eule's shoulders. Cast a wary glance around them, eyes scrutinizing the expansive villa lawn. "Whatever that thing was...it seems to have met an unhappy end."

"Do you th-think the others are alright?" Meryl breathed, clinging to the Star's midsection as they rose. "They wouldn't be...?"

"I'm sure they're fine," Kite said, looking down at her girlfriend. Smiled reassuringly. "Mom and the others don't die easy, right?"

The two closed their mouths, as a dead-eyed gentlemen descended past them. His Waite uniform, white with red trim, spattered all the more scarlet. A coagulating glob clung to his bushy mustache, as he meandered wordlessly into the night.

"Well...now that's out of the way..."

Replikas looked up, at the gestalt in green and cream ahead of them.

Dorian, Fourth Prince of House Leclair, stretched his arms over his head. He paused at the top of the stairs, and looked down at them with a smile. "...where were we? Did we want to find another private place?"

"..."

The replikas stared in horror. Jaws dropped.

Meryl scowled, hands clenching around the Star's jacket. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What?" Dorian shrugged, arms outstretched.

"Now is not the fucking time, dude!" Kite yelled, brows furrowed. "Loads of people jus-!"

"AAAAAAAGGHHHH!"

The trio froze. Heads snapped up to the double doors.

Meryl wriggled out of the Star's grasp, eyes wide.

"Vanessa!?"

 

"Aaah! Aaaghh!"

Dozens of eyes stared. Faces blanched.

The eldest Eule clung to the youngest Leclair's arm. Trembling hand covered her mouth, heart racing. Her screams died in her throat.

Felix's eyes widened, reflecting an unearthy green glow. He inhaled.

"FATHER!"

"..." gasped Chrétian, High King of House Leclair. His face turned down with a jitter, eyes wide.

Stared at the Xenos Phase Blade, protruding bloodlessly from his chest.

The Assassin's stolen mouth smirked. With zero effort, she withdrew the blade that stuck out from Balder Brandwich's tailored jacket sleeve.

"Gch!" Chrétian grunted, stumbling forward. He coughed up a gout of blood.

"NOOOOO!" Christophe cried, bolting forward.

With that, the entire room burst into action.

"Dammit!" Ishtar growled, running at the 'man' in burgundy clothing. Fists clenched. "Breach!"

"On it!" yelled the Star, already running at her girlfriend's side.

"Father!" Ernest yelled, as he and Albert caught the High King in their arms.

"Father!" Albert cried. He looked over the old man's shoulder. "Seize him! Don't let hi-!"

"What happ-"

Brice skidded through the door, looking around. Elster and her children a step behind him. When he saw his father - and the Brandywich pilot brandishing a blade of alien metal - his face contorted in fury. Teeth clenched. "NOOOOOO!"

"Heh!" grunted the false Balder Brandywich, effortlessly back-stepping Christophe's wild punch. Body turned and twisted, ducking under the Storch's strike, before kicking the Star back into the wall.

The Callidus could slaughter the entire room, if she needed to. Indeed, she just might. It was full of Leclair and Zeranor nobility. Traitors, the lot of them. She just needed to make some roo-

BAM.

The Assassin's head snapped back, causing her to stumble. Eyes looked around frantically. Then froze.

Not a physical blow. She locked gazes with the Kranich, stood across the room, arms around the terrified Kolibri.

"..." Natasha narrowed her eyes. Teeth clenched. Short hair writhed invisibly with power.

The Callidus only had time to blink once, shrugging off the bioresonant assault, before...

"BALDER!"

Brice slammed into the Callidus, arms grasping the front of her stolen suit.

"Get him!" Ishtar yelled, seizing the arm brandishing the phase blade. "Hold him down!"

Breach crouched and yanked the shocked Assassin's leg out from under her.

"RRRAAAAGH!" Brice roared, throwing his entire weight onto 'Balder', as they all toppled to the ground.

"Oof!" the Callidus grunted, wincing. Eyes peeked open, grimacing. "..."

Mere inches from her filched face, the Second Prince of House Leclair glared, red-faced and enraged. Breathed heavily. "YOU BASTARD!"

"Father!" Albert yelled, as he, Ernest, and Felix struggled to keep their father on his feet.

The front doors flew open.

"F-father!?" Dorian gasped, looking frantically around. Eyes wide. He nearly bowled over, as the two replikas behind bumped into him. "Ah...wh-what's...?"

"Oh Empress!" Meryl gasped, clinging to Kite. She looked down at the man in Brandywich colors, and paled. "..."

"Why, Balder!?" Brice roared, seizing the burgundy jacket by the front and slamming its occupant into the floor. "Why did you do this!? You misbegotten cur!"

The Callidus, wincing, smirked.

"Traitors," she said, in the voice of Balder, "die ignominious deaths. Always."

Another man in burgundy rushed over. Hand outstretched toward the tangle of bodies. "Stop!" said the Brandywich pilot. "Balder, what did you do!?"

"That's not Balder!" Dorian cried. When everyone looked up at him, he pointed deeper into the villa. "We found Balder Brandywich's body in the west wing!"

"What?!?" Christophe cried, brows rising in shock. "What are yo-?"

"...cousin?" whispered the other Brandywich, staring at Dorian, then looking toward the 'man' on the floor.

The false Balder Brandywich flashed a toothy smile.

And there's my door!

Shlump!

"Ah!" Ishtar cried, as the blade retracted in front of her face. As did the 'man's' right fist. "Huh!?"

"Nngh!" Brice grunted, as he fell to the ground. Eyes blinked down at the burgundy suit, gone limp in his hands. Felt something slither between his legs. "Wha-!?"

"...!" Natasha's brows rose. She let go of the paralyzed Kolibri. "It's getting away!"

"Ah!" Breach yelped, as something brushed her leg.

"Fuck!" Ishtar grunted, turning and pouncing unsuccessfully at a dark shape weaving through a crowd of people.

Several people cried out in alarm, as it slithered and crawled at their feet/hooves.

"Commander!" Natasha cried, pointing. "There!"

"On it!" Elster said, jumping over the transfixed Zeranor matron. Brandished her power sword, and thumbed in on.

Clang!

Despite the matter-cleaving field wreathing it, her power sword sparked against the green blade.

The replika commander shivered, as the figure clad in a black, synthskin bodyglove writhed up to meet her. "...!"

Albert, looking on from where he clutched his injured father, blanched. Clenched his teeth. "ASSASSIN!"

The woman smirked at Elster. Locks of black hair elongated and tumbled over a bronzed face, nearly obscuring a mole on her cheek.

Clang!

"Nngh!" Elster grunted, stumbling back. She rallied, swiping her blade. Bathed white marble in blue light, as it cleaved effortlessly through marble pillar, mere centimeters under the Assassin's hopping feet.

"No!" Brice growled, tossing the burgundy suit away and running. He shoved the other Brandywich pilot aside, head arching up. "NO!"

"Aaaagh!" Vanessa cried, hugging herself as she watched the creature slither up the pillar like a lizard. Her skin crawled.

They all stared up in horror, as the figure in the bodysuit backflipped onto the second floor balcony. Watched in disgust, as her body contorted and reshaped itself like warm wax.

"..." Natasha stared up, and clenched her teeth. Reached out with her mind.

"Nngh!" the Callidus grunted, wincing. A buzz in her mind, like a bow drawn across strings.

There was no subtly. No tact. No attempt to disguise the intrusion. The Spy probed for the smallest crack in the Assassin's mental armor, then plunged inside. Grasped any secrets she could. Rifled through a panoply of images, thoughts, memories. Secrets.

"...!" Natasha gasped, eyes widening.

She saw the withered, ancient face of the Master. The Master of Assassins.

Just a memory. A snapshot of the woman's encounter with the man. But the Kranich couldn't shake the impression the ancient Psyker gazed directly at her. Through her.

The mere implication chilled Natasha's blood.

"Ngh..." Wincing, clutching her head, the Assassin looked down at the Spy. Furrowed one brow.

The face, whose true beauty might have charmed countless suitors, in another life...smiled.

Well played, Crane. You're better than I thought.

"Kill the assassin!" cried Gervais, acting Regent of House St. Blaise. He pointed at the balcony, gesturing angrily toward the woman. "Don't let her get away!"

As guards pointed laslocks, the Assassin glanced their way.

Then, bending down, the Callidus winked at the Kranich. A hand rose and pulled skin tight mask over her face. Red lenses stared blankly out.

Natasha's heart skipped a beat. "..."

ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP!

The Callidus backflipped, las bolts flying all around her. Kicked at the apex of her spinning jump.

Crash!

Natasha stared up in shock, eyes enraptured by the glint of gaslight on shards of glass. Watched the Assassin disappear out a second floor window.

"..."

She blinked. Brows furrowed in confusion.

Was...was that woman hitting on me?

"NNGH!"

"FATHER!"

Shock and disappointment ended at once, as everyone snapped back to attention.

Ernest helped lower his father to the floor. "Easy, easy..."

"Ngh...m-my...boys..." Chrétian gasped, going pale. His left hand weakly patted the floor.

"Fetch a medic!" Albert screamed, head whipping around. "Anyone!"

"Shah!" Elster barked, thumbing off her power sword. She rushed over, handing the blade handle-first to the Kranich. "Get over here!"

"R-right!" Shahrazad gasped, running forward. Sweat poured down her brow. "Out of the way! We can help!"

"Wha-...no!" Brice grunted, holding a hand out. "She's a-"

He stopped, as Christophe clapped a hand on his shoulder. "..."

Christophe pushed his glasses up. "Just...let them work. We don't have time..."

"..." Brice stared into his brother's eyes. For the first time, wondered if, behind those glasses, his junior could read his thoughts.

"Recline him! Hurry!"

As Ernest and Albert helped their father to the floor, a folded jacket tucked under his head, the Sixth Prince of Leclair rushed to his side. Knelt down. His heart raced. "F-father..."

Felix flinched, as the Eule with long, straw-colored hair knelt beside him, and took his hand. He looked over his shoulder.

"If anyone can help," Vanessa breathed, trembling, "it's them." She flashed an uncertain smile, fingers pressed to her mouth.

"..." Felix stared at the Eule, then nodded. Despite himself, he looked down in worry.

Shing!

Elster sliced the High King's shirt open with her talon-blade, and watched the man's sons pull the flaps apart. She froze, eyes darting around. "...?"

Chrétian's chest was bare, unblemished. Despite this, scarlet dribbled down from his mouth.

"...shit..." Elster breathed, patting his chest in confusion. "What's...there's no exit wound!"

"We saw the blade run him through, yes?" Ernest said, before looking around at everyone else. "How could...?"

"Move!" Shahrazad grunted, pushing the Fifth Prince aside feebly. When the man crawled back, she knelt, straddling one of the High King's legs. Pressed one hand to the patient's chest, and held another hand up. "Elster. Let me show you."

"Right," Elster nodded, taking the Kolibri's hand.

A crowd formed around the High King. Replikas and Leclair boys stared in rapt attention.

The assembled nobility, upon seeing the diminutive replika mutter incantations under her breath, cast scandalized glances around. Muttered among themselves.

"A witch! Here?"

"Two witches, methinks. That woman has the same stars on her head."

"That could mean anything!"

"Didn't you see her hair, just now? Witch-force, it was!"

"...we were just talking to her all night..."

"Can the little witch help, at least?"

"Do we really want to find out?"

"..." Shahrazad frowned, breathing heavily. She flinched, as the old man placed a wrinkled hand on her wrist. Looked at him in surprise.

"Don't...w-worry..." Chrétian breathed, blood-smeared mouth smiling at the Kolibri. "You...'re d-doing...well..."

"..." Shahrazad nodded, then returned to her work.

Natasha cast withering glances at the nobles, who shrank back in fear.

Chrétian's sons simply stood or knelt, transfixed.

"...no..." Shahrazad breathed, furrowing her brow. "Empress, please..."

Elster, her own eyes shut, looked down forlornly at the old man. "..."

Feeding data to her medical module, Elster swallowed hard.

[PROGNOSIS: TERMINAL]

"..." Albert looked the replika commander in the eyes, expression hard. He swallowed too. "...is it...?"

Elster shook her head. Projected her thoughts. It's beyond our power, or that of any surgeon. He has but moments left.

Felix and Vanessa flinched. The Eule covered her mouth in horror.

"..." Albert paled further, then lowered his gaze. Nodded stoically. "...father..."

"I can't..." Shahrazad gasped, shaking her head. Buried her face in her hands. "I can't. I'm not like Isis! I don't have the skill!"

"No!" Brice growled, sinking to his knees and grasping the Kolibri's shoulders. "You have to!"

"But I can't!!" Shahrazad cried, tears forming in her eyes. "Isis could, but I-!"

"Dammit, witch!" Brice cried, voice cracking as his hands tightened around the girl's upper arms. "What good are you, if you can't even save his life!?"

Christophe, stood off to the side, blanched. Sweat poured down his brow. He stared at his hands. "..."

"Get off her!" Ishtar growled, grabbing Brice by the shoulders. "Now!"

"Dammit!" Brice growled, grabbing the Storch's wrists and struggling. He cried out, a lump in his throat. "Save him, dammit! My father!"

"Brice! Stop!" Albert barked, kneeling with hands on his knees. "There's nothing to be done!"

"I'm sorry..." Shahrazad sobbed, crawling back and holding her hands up. "I'm sorry!"

"D-don't...worry..."

They looked down at the High King. He coughed violently, spraying blood, then smiled weakly.

"You...did your best..." Chrétian breathed, shivering. He patted the Kolibri's arm.

Elster hugged the Kolibri from behind, and pulled her to her hooves. Retreated. "Come on."

"...my...b-boys...ngh..." Chrétian groaned, coughing. Fresh scarlet stained his sleeve. "...a-attend...me..."

"Quickly!" Albert breathed, waving his younger brothers over. He repositioned, and knelt to the right of his father's head.

One by one, each Leclair Prince took their place around their High King.

Everyone else looked on in sadness. Ishtar scowled, then buried her face in Breach's shoulder. Kite hugged Meryl, who covered her mouth. Vanessa made to retreat, but Felix held her hand fast. She took a place behind him, looking over his shoulder.

Natasha rubbed the Kolibri's shoulders, eyes averted. Her mind miles away.

Elster stared down at the gathering. A corvid perched over a scene of mortality.

"...d-dad..." Brice sobbed, covering his mouth.

"Good...g-good..." Chrétian breathed, wincing. Eyes wandered to each. Smiled. "...my...our handsome...brave boys. Y-your..." He coughed, and forced a smile again. "Your...mother would be proud..."

"Father..." Ernest breathed, patting the man's leg.

"Now...o-on to...business..." Chrétian said, frowning. He raised his left hand. "Felix, my boy."

"Dad," Felix breathed, free hand taking his father's. Squeezed it. "I'm here!"

Chrétian looked his youngest son in the eyes. "The Lune," he wheezed, "your mother's steed. It's y-yours. Pilot her well..."

Dorian's face snapped up in shock.

"..." Felix gaped, stomach dropping out. "The Lune? Father, I-"

"Felix, there's no time," Chrétian breathed, shaking his head. "It's yours. Okay?"

"Y-yes!" Felix gasped, holding up their conjoined hands quickly. "I'll take good care of her!"

He felt Vanessa squeeze his other hand. She looked away, taking a ragged breath.

"..." Dorian frowned. Stared daggers at his youngest brother.

"Now...Albert," Chrétian breathed, turning his head to look up at his eldest son.

"Father," Albert said, nodding stoically. "Speak."

"I confirm what...ngh...has already been w-written in my will," Chrétian said, wincing at a sudden, cold pain in his chest. Another blush of scarlet spilled from the sides of his mouth, pooling around his head. He smiled, swallowing his own blood. "You...are High King...n-now. Un-under...stand?"

"Yes," Albert said, nodding resolutely. Frowned, and pressed a fist to his chest. "I will defend Emeraldus will vigor, and lead House Leclair to victory."

"And honorably, too," Chrétian said, nodding fractionally. "Don't...let our House fall...into darkness. Yes?"

"...!" The eldest Prince's heart skipped a beat. He remembered that phrase, from long ago.

Le Noir.

He clenched his teeth, and nodded. "I won't. I swear it."

Chrétian nodded. Winced, clutching his chest. "Gah...ngh..."

"Dad!" Brice sobbed, reaching out and patting the old man's hand. "Don't...don't go..."

"There is...little time..." Chrétian groaned. He searched their faces, then turned. "Christophe."

"Yes, father?" Christophe breathed, adjusting his glasses. His heart sank.

"Chris...I know."

Christophe, Brice, and Albert all froze.

"...you...do?" Christophe breathed, eyes widening.

Chrétian smiled. "I know...and I'm not ashamed. You...sh-shouldn't be, either..."

A lump formed in the Third Prince's throat. Mouth contorted in pain. "D-dad...!"

"I w-wish...there w-was more time..." Chrétian groaned, looking around at his assembled progeny. "More t-time to...s-say...what I..." Another coughing fit took him.

Splat!

A great gout of scarlet sprayed onto his chest and trousers.

"Father!" Albert cried, clutching the old man's shoulder. Eyes widened.

Gasping, Chrétian shook his head. Looked at them all. "I love you, b-boys...we loved yo-...y-you...with all our...h-hearts..."

Vanessa started to cry.

Many of his sons did, too.

Chrétian stared at the ceiling, smiling.

"F-fight...w-well, my...sons...I..."

Something inside broke. A tension released. His eyes unfocused.

Sir Chrétian, High King of House Leclair - called the Solarian - exhaled. A smile on his face.

"..."

"...father?" Felix breathed, feeling the wrinkled hand go slack. He blanched. "Father!"

"...oh no..." Vanessa breathed, and covered her face with her hands.

"...dad?" Brice said, eyes widening. He shook his father's leg. "Wake up, dad. Wake up!"

"..." Dorian, blinking, sat back. Tucked his legs against his chest. Buried his face in his knees.

Ernest bowed his head, eyes closed. He inhaled. Exhaled. Staggered to his feet, and raised his face to the ceiling. After a moment, he mastered himself. Raised his voice. "...Sir Chrétian, High King of House Leclair...is dead."

He motioned to his eldest brother. "Long live the High King!"

"Aaaahhhh!" Brice cried, bent over. He clenched his fist and began pounding the blue and white tiles. "Dammit! Dammit!"

"...Brice..." Christophe held a hand out to his older brother, then withdrew it. His eyes rose, and he froze. "...Al?"

"..."

Albert Leclair stared darkly at the floor. Raised a hand, and with two fingers, gingerly closed his father's eyes.

"I'm...so sorry, Felix..." Vanessa rasped, rubbing her nose.

"..." Felix, not letting his father's hand go, turned to the Eule and pressed his face against her sternum. Sobbed. "...ngh...!"

Shahrazad wept openly. Overwhelmed by the pain and sorrow, both without...and within. "...haah...ngh!"

Elster hugged her close. "...there, there...shh..." Patted her head. "It's not your fault..."

"No. It's not."

The group turned, as the eldest Prince stood up.

"...Al?" Christophe whispered. Held up his hands.

"..." Natasha, arms crossed, looked between the Third Prince and the First Prince.

She sensed the same thing Christophe could.

Here we go..., she thought, frowning.

Albert clenched his fist. Gritted his teeth.

"The...Imperium.." he seethed. Face turned up, expression livid. "The damned Imperium!"

"...Al...?" Brice sniffed, tear-stained face turned up.

"It was Terra," Albert growled, raising a clenched fist. "Them and their...Assassins! They killed Father!"

"Now hold on a minute!" yelled Gervais St. Blaise. stepping over from where he huddled with his guards. "That's crazy talk, Albert! Those stories about a Terran order of assassins are just that: stories!"

"Then what did we just encounter!?" Albert roared, turning furious eyes on the St. Blaise scion. "What killed your father?"

"I-..." Gervais faltered, looking at the floor. Then looked up, frowning. "I don't know! But Terra would never turn such...abominations against its loyal citizens!"

Albert's face reddened. "You imply that my father was a traitor?"

"I-I make no such claims!" Gervais said, quickly. "Cousin, you know I'd never-"

"Because he wasn't!" Albert yelled, flailing an arm out to the side, for emphasis. Leveled a death-glare at the St. Blaise boy. Then, his gaze traveled around, to the assembled nobles. "Sir Chrétian Leclair made us privy to his plans. He intended to honor his oaths to the Emperor, and fight for Terra! He was no turncoat!"

"..." Elster eyed the First Prince. No, the new High King.

She remembered the half-beast man on the veranda. On Chrétian's covert meeting.

Albert gestured to the still-warm body at his feet. "...and look what it got him," he said, before snapping back to the crowd. "Our Father gave the Imperium everything...and look how they rewarded his loyalty! With betrayal!"

The crowd of nobles gasped. Muttered among themselves.

"Al, stop," Christophe whispered, holding his hands up. "We need to think about this..."

"Betrayal?" Gervais grunted, furrowing his brow. "You don't know what you'r-"

"Everyone. Knows." Albert growled, pointing a finger. "Everyone knows the stories. Spies who can take on the shape of anyone! Snipers who lie in wait! Maniacs who tear through entire regiments, before exploding upon death!" He clenched his teeth. "Such honorless methods, the Imperium doesn't reserve only for its enemies! It turns them on its own allies, on its own people!"

"That is slander!" Gervais cried, taking a step forward. He stopped, as Brice rose to bar his way. "...what?"

"...tell him, Al," Brice grumbled, rubbing his nose. Stared at the young St. Blaise. "Tell them all about it."

On the floor, Felix and Vanessa looked between all three. "..."

Albert raised a clenched fist. "Terra murdered my father," he spoke, voice hard. "As High King of House Leclair, I cannot leave such a blow unanswered."

The crowd rumbled.

"You cannot do that!"

"The nerve! The cheek!"

"You speak treason, boy!"

"It is not treason!" Albert roared, turning on the crowd. "We are not the Emperor's subjects! We are not his slaves! House Leclair and Terra swore oaths of mutual protection! We are Terra's allies. But look!" He pointed to his father's body. "Look how they reward our service." Pointed to the crowd. "Look at how the Emperor rewards all of you! He butchers us in swaths, and then sends face-stealers to stab us in the back!"

"..." Elster frowned. Turned away.

She knew, of course, that the creature who attacked the ballroom was not mortal in origin. It was daemonic. Which meant only Horus could have sent it.

"..." Natasha met her commander's gaze. Shook her head.

Don't. Don't say it. There's no easy way to explain, without burning every bridge we have. And to no gain. It certainly won't make his family feel any better.

"..." Elster eyed the Spy.

Natasha shook her head again. Disabusing the young King of these notions will accomplish nothing. Besides...he's already made up his mind.

The replika commander turned back to Albert, frowning. "..."

"...Al," Ernest said, stepping up beside his eldest brother. reached out his hand. "We don't..."

Albert batted away the Fifth Prince's hand. Gave him a hard stare. When Ernest reluctantly bowed his head, the new High King stepped around him.

"The Imperium...Terra...the Emperor himself...have betrayed US," Albert seethed. Pointed at his chest. "THEY broke their oaths to US. Broke THEIR word!"

Gritted his teeth. Clenched a fist.

"I, High King Albert Leclair, son of Chrétian Leclair and Faustine Leclair, by right of the aggrieved and bereaved...hereby annul all oaths of House Leclair to Terra, to the Imperium, and to the Emperor of Mankind!"

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Elster: Blade of the Arkifane