A Lifeboat Adrift (Stellaris x Warhammer 40k)

[ATP]

Good.We have Tau,now Eldar join....dwarves when?

 

[Trisurya]

Rogue Trader. Two words that meant so many things to so many people. For the common masses of the Imperium, they were trailblazing pioneers that brave the dangers of the galaxy to bring the Emperor's Light to yet-undiscovered worlds. To planetary governors, either a source of endless headaches and nightmares of frivolous demands or a rival power, to be judged, measured, and tested as seen fit whether to be grouped as an enemy or an ally. To the Inquisition and its members, a useful disguise oft used to the point of seeming parody and even flipped on its head with Rogue Traders in turn pretending to be Inquisitors to get out of trouble. To Gallianus van Boltaneus, it was a life of unending misery and bad fortune one after the other.

He sat now on his command throne, the supposed seat of his power, the symbol of his worth as a Rogue Trader, and yet the glories had passed him by. Where once it was the peak of comfort and luxury, no sign of that former glory could be seen now, with its bare padding and no decorations bare with the littlest padding and no decorations save those made by the Adeptus Mechanicus centuries ago, when the frigate Desperate Luck was brand new and part of Boltaneus grand trade fleet. Of course, even the name his flagship now bore was a far cry from its previous iteration, but Gallianus didn't think Rightful Glory fit the means of a man heading towards destitution.

They were on their way to this system's Mandeville Point, whose name currently escaped the Rogue Trader. For what purpose, one might ask? Why, for the Cold Trade of course, that illegal black market of goods of xeno-make and stranger things. Gallianus found it all as hard as he thought it would be to make it in the business and more. He's made his ends meet, yes, but turning a profit was harder than convincing a Jokaero to listen to you. He's even had to make a break for it once because the Arbites pulled a sting and arrested everybody present. Not that Gallianus himself would get arrested, of course, but it's just a bad look to be caught at all while dealing the Cold Trade, makes one look less reliable to the other Rogue Traders.

"Lord Captain, the Choirmaster humbly requests for your presence at the Astropathic Choir. He says there is a priority message for your ears only." His ship's Vox Master, a newbie whose name he hasn't bothered remembering yet, said as he approached the command throne, steadfastly avoiding Gallianus' gaze out of habit. Almost everyone on the bridge behaved so, since most of them were only recently elevated to their positions due to an… unfortunate accident that befell their predecessors.

Only the Navigator, the Master Helmsman, and the Choirmaster had survived that particular trip through the Warp. The only silver lining was that they'd made excellent time, earning a bonus from the client since the Desperate Luck arrived one week in the past before it went on its journey. Confessor Alamatus has proclaimed it to be a sign of the Emperor's favor upon the ship, which helped somewhat to smooth things over with the lower decks scum and the middle deck peasants. As for the top-decks and officers, well, they know better than to wag their tongues.

But idle hands are the means by which heresies might plant roots, and so they were off soon enough, carrying all the usual cargo a Rogue Trader of his station was used to, as well as something 'extra'. Gallianus had put a good show then, making a fuss about his duty to the Golden Throne and the responsibilities of one that bears the sacred Warrant, while letting his Seneschal, Vagant Korialus, to handle the Cold Trade negotiations on his behalf.

These thoughts and many others accompanied Gallianus as he made his way to the Astropathic Chapel accompanied by several Enforcers and his current beau, a sharp little smuggler with a penchant for knives and and cuts. Her grabby hands made for a pleasant distraction from the tedium of travel, especially with her pleasant little trills and giggles when the Rogue Trader touched her back. None paid the couple much mind, the Enforcers already used to Gallianus' many dalliances with the lesser members of the Imperium. The only saving grace has been that so far, their Lord Captain had seen fit to only take human companions instead of abominable xenos scum.

Entering the Astropathic Chapel has never been a comfortable experience, and this time around was no different. As the venerable elevator descended, a change could be felt as the group passed some invisible threshold. The smuggler attached herself tighter to the Rogue Trader, her teary eyes trying to find comfort in her lover's own. But Gallianus could only offer a shrug and a small smile, patting her head as one might pat an adorable pet.

After a little while more, the group finally reached their destination, the speeding elevator decelerating well beforehand so the group felt hardly a bump as it stopped. The familiar smoke of burned myrrh and frankincense greeted them, candles made from corpsewax burning mournfully as around small shrines for the God-Emperor. Some praying chapel servants saw Gallianus, and the Rogue Trader simply made the sign of the Aquila at them before moving on.

The Choirmaster of Desperate Luck was seated upon a modest organ, slowly playing a piece that seemed to warble and warp the air in ways that made minds itch. His name was Suzurar Gospelmark, a creepy old man not known for making conversation, even with fellow Astropaths. His head turned around even before Gallianus could speak up to announce his presence, Suzurar' empty blindfolded eyes appearing to bore into the Lord Captain. Neither liked the other, but work was work.

The Enforcers had already dispersed around the room, taking up defensive positions to protect their master, which left only the smuggler, attached like a limpet to the Rogue Trader' side, trying her best not to stare at the Choirmaster' empty eye-sockets and failing. With the only way out contingent on her beau' presence, the small woman took measure of herself and gave a small smile at Suzurar, who did nothing but wait for the next part of the ritual to be commenced by Gallianus.

"I am here, Choirmaster. If your tongue will wag secrets into my ears, then be swift about it. I have duties to attend to." The Rogue Trader spoke with the natural haughtiness of one who was born into privilege and expected nothing else. "Oh, yes. Little thing, do be a good dear and hang about somewhere else, but not too far. Your master requires his privacy." With a dismissive wave, he unstuck the smuggler from his side and shooed her away, staring at woman until she gave a small nod and scurried away to orbit the closest Enforcer instead.

"There, now we can begin." Gallianus spoke, readying himself for the message, only to see the Choirmaster shook his head at that, gesturing to the other Astropaths locked in their chairs and chapel servants going to and fro for their duties. With a tight smile, Gallianus let himself be led into a small room off to the side of the central chambers. His Enforcers followed close behind, their eyes scrutinizing the Choirmaster' actions as well as everyone else' with newfound suspicion, though they dared not act unless the situation demanded it or the Lord Captain ordered them.

Inside the small, cramped room, there was only enough space for two chairs and a small table, upon which a cluster of short, fat candles burned on with a slight acrid tinge to its smoke. A slight contaminant disturbing the pure odor of death. Suzurar put out the offending flame with a casual pinch, his thick skin staving off the heat long enough to prevent the burn.

"Impressive. You should be an Infernus." Gallianus remarked.

"In another life perhaps. In this one, I am His devoted servant, blessed by sight beyond sight. But enough idle chatter. A message has come from a nearby Inquisitorial Black Ship, requesting your presence immediately." The Rogue Trader frowned, the beginnings of cold sweat dripping down his neck. Do they know?! His mind almost screamed in panic, though his face remained aloof as ever.

"I see. Where shall we meet them then? Metalica? Chromyd? Duralim? I doubt His Inquisitorial Highness would want to meet way out in the middle of nowhere." As if his words were a cue, a rumbling that was beyond sound clawed at the edges of Gallianus' soul. All around him, his Enforcers shifted uneasily as they too felt the disturbance caused by a hole in reality; a gateway to the Warp torn open nearby. Even as a non-psyker, the Rogue Trader knew what it meant.

While Gallianus panicked, at the Mandeville Point where Desperate Luck was to exit the system, the enormous Inquisitorial Black Ship known as the Libertatis Excommunicatio punched its way out of the Immaterium, followed soon by a fleet of Inquisitorial Cruisers and Escorts. It was a formidable entourage, enough firepower to decimate most foes of the Imperium and lay waste to worlds, and it was all about to bear down on one Rogue Trader' ship.

---

Inquisitor Nantz Palemar sniffed as he entered the hangar bay opened up for his shuttle and retinue to enter the Rogue Trader's ship. Every voidship had their own peculiar smells and tang to it, almost like a fingerprint, and this one smelled of fear. The Rogue Trader's Seneschal had came out to greet them, along with several squads of Enforcers as a kind of honor guard. His name was Rassilas Osmic; a silent, short man by stature, but broad by width, creating the impression of a wall of iron muscles and steel bones. On one of his wrists was a tattoo of the Imperial Aquila, decorated with some cogs of the sacred Adeptus Mechanicum and a serial number scratched out by way of a jagged scar, so old it was nearly invisible. There was a story there, perhaps one Nantz would unravel in due time, but for now, he was more interested in the Seneschal's master.

Accompanying him was one of his Acolytes, Shem Al Saladat, who had graduated from the Scholastia Psykana two decades ago and entered the Inquisitor's retinue five years past. The bald, deeply-tan man bore the sigil of the Inquisition proudly upon his head, distracting most from catching sight of his entirely deep blue eyes Shem bore as heritage of his blood. At times, his mouth would move to mutter several words or phrases in Kolistiach, the ancient tongue of his homeworld that stubbornly persisted despite efforts to engrain Gothic into the populace. He carried a staff found from a dead Imperial world, its previous owner having used the mighty psychic foci within to defy the xenos scum that invaded their worlds one last time. Curiously, a pair of laspistols also hung in holsters tied to a belt, their worn grips evidence of frequent use while their polished sheen spoke of regular care.

There was also Nantz' personal bodyguard, the Death World Veteran Pipo, whose abrasive exterior hid a sharper interior. He was fully encased in jet-black armor reminiscent of the Lucifer Blacks, with the only distinction between him and those fearsome warriors being the Inquisitorial symbols that adorned his armor. A Bolt Pistol was clipped to his right side, while a Power Sword hung from a scabbard on his right. Though he appeared to gaze straight ahead, his eyes were always watching about, judging, evaluating, planning, and preparing for combat.

Magos Archos Uxiln strode close but apart, bearing the red robes of the Adeptus Mechanicum with clear pride even as his many legs clinked against the metal floor like the skittering of a mechanical insect. His mechandendrites were at ease, though the crew didn't know it, content to simply perch atop the Magos' back like vipers coiled to strike. Four technomats trailed after the venerable Magos, their enhancements considerably lesser by comparison, but by no means less unnerving to look at as they glared at any errant peasant that dared to keep their heads up for too long.

And rounding up the group was the only woman, towering over the rest save for the Magos, holding up a Bolter before her like a woman carries her child. She was clad in Power Armor, bedecked in the symbols of her Order; the Order of the Holy Word. There was the burning Aquila, sitting upon the brow of a human skull, jaws open wide to reveal a single three-petaled black lily with gold streaks on each petal; a reminder that all knowledge must be tempered by faith and conviction in the God-Emperor, so that his Sacred Light may burn away the hidden deceit that traps the unwary and blinds the faithful. Her name was Sister Kata.

These people and many others were the bedrock upon which Inquisitor Nantz Palemar could tread upon with no fear in his duties as an Inquisitor, uncovering sinister plots hatched by heretical cults and traitorous elements led astray either by their own shortsightedness or more insidious external forces. And now he will make use of one more pawn, one more piece upon the board that will set the stage for the Imperum of Mankind's final confrontation with the T'au Empire. A holy force of righteous extermination, grand enough to rival even the Macharius Crusade in scale.

With one final elevator ride, the Inquisitor and his retinue finally arrived at the bridge. Immediately their presence was noted, with many eyes turning to catch the sight of a lifetime, though those same wandering gazes were also quick to look away in fear once they remembered what an Inquisitor's presence meant upon their voidship. Another group was waiting at the foot of the steps leading to the Rogue Trader's command throne, the one at its head dressed in resplendent noble attire only befitting a man of his station.

"Lord Inquisitor Nantz Palemar, it is an honor for us all to welcome you to my humble ship. To what occassion do we have the pleasure of hosting the Inquisition upon this bridge?" Gallianus van Boltaneus spoke in words thick with praises and hollow with sincerity; a common feature amongst the more reckless Rogue Traders. "I apologize for not preparing a more suitable reception area, but I understand the Inquisition has better things to do than be dogged down by trifling matters. Shall we get down to business then?" Gallianus beckoned towards a simple small table set behind him, two chairs already out and waiting for them both. Nantz, feeling diplomatic for once, gave a curt nod and took a seat to the right, while Gallianus naturally took what the left.

"I see you've received my message in good time. It would have been unwise for you to depart to parts unknown without waiting for my permission to do so." Nantz began talking, putting both elbows on the table and letting his hands rest. "Tell your crew to vacate the premises. Magos Archos will ensure your ship's systems will not come to harm in their operator's absence." Gallianus nodded, giving the order at once while at the same time deactivating most of the obvious recording devices present on the bridge. It was a risky move leaving even one still active with a Magos present, but what is life without a little bit of danger?

Once the last of the officers vanished from sight behind the elevator door, Inquisitor Nantz allowed himself a moment's reprieve from duty. His tight shoulder's relaxed, his grim-set jaw opening to let a small breath free, and his eyes, usually set at an intensity that could melt adamantium, was now set to simply vaporize plasteel instead. Those who were members of the Inquisitor's retinue noticed the change immediately, but for Gallianus, it was far from a reassuring gesture. Inquisitors do not rest.

"I have a request that only you can fulfill, Rogue Trader. One that requires the privileges afforded only to those bearers of the sacred Warrant of Trade." Gallianus' mind whirled as he tried to guess which privileges Inquisitor Nantz meant. "I will be expecting you to make a trip in the near-future towards T'au space, to make contact with one of my informants there. As an incentive, here is a list of what you'd get should you accept my proposition, Gallianus van Boltaneus." Sister Kata stepped forward and handed a data slate to the Rogue Trader, who accepted it graciously and began reading its contents. Several minutes passed as Gallianus' eyes widened more and more until they looked like they were about to pop, before he shook his head and casually slid the data-slate into his person.

"This is…ahem, I mean, of course, Lord Inquisitor. I live to serve, forevermore." The Rogue Trader bowed his head, unaccustomed to such a gesture.

"Thank you, Gallianus van Boltaneus. The God-Emperor protects." Everyone present made the sign of the Aquila at the same time, with members of the Inquisitor' retinue turning around and making their way back to the elevator, save for one. Sister Kata remained by the still sitting Inquisitor, her red eyes boring into Gallianus with judgement that found the man wanting. The Rogue Trader willed himself to look straight into Inquisitor Nantz' eyes and found in them, to his eternal shock, something that could only be described as amusement.

"One last thing. Sister Kata will remain here to help you navigate the treacherous waters of the xenos mind and remain pure from corruption. You may command her as you would one of your own, and she will obey your will in as so far that it does not contradict mine. She is a skilled warrior, an excellent shot, and between you and me, a great cook." Sister Kata had stood up straighter and prouder with every word coming out of Inquisitor Nantz' mouth until the last one, where she was caught off-guard and looked almost embarrassed.

"Thank you, Lord Inquisitor. Your generosity knows no bounds." Gallianus flashed his two remaining guests a brilliant fake smile, while inside the Rogue Trader was screaming in horror at the thought of having a Sister of Battle aboard his less than reputable ancient tub. His dreams of rising to the top of the Cold Trade had always been a distant goal, but now they were downright impossible. As Inquisitor Nantz stood up and nodded at the Rogue Trader before leaving, Gallianus van Boltaneus thought to himself,

God-Emperor, give me a break, please.

 

[ATP]

Poor dude.But...if he survive,he would be rich!

 

[Trisurya]

Gallianus van Boltaneus finally stirred from his slumber, his head still pounding from last night's bout of drinking. Memories of yesterday were trickling in like petitioners in an Adeptus Administratum building, and the Rogue Trader scowled as he remembered saying yes to the Inquisitor's request. Well, what was I supposed to do? Say no and get myself investigated by the Inquisition? Not to mention that payout upfront. A wicked smile graced Gallianus' face, his mind whirling with endless possibilities of what he could do with his newfound riches.

Occupied as he was with his fantasies, Gallianus paid no heed to his now rousing bed-companions; a pair of pale, well-endowed, white-haired waifs he'd procured from the local populace of the orbital his ship was docked at. At a glance, one might mistake them for twins, though neither knew the other. With a dismissive wave, he bade the two goodbye as servants hurriedly scurried out of their hidden places and carried the Rogue Trader's brief flings out of his life. If only most problems in my life could be whisked away so easily. Gallianus idly thought while scratching his belly.

Since his encounter and subsequent employment by the Inquisition, Gallianus has kept himself busy. He's made a slim profit from the Cold Trade cargo he was carrying at the time, but given the circumstances, the Rogue Trader couldn't find it in himself to care about such a petty thing. Once he's resupplied on provisions, fuel, and crew, Gallianus will depart to the frontiers of Imperial space, braving the lawless wastes before eventually reaching one of the many outposts the T'au had made on the periphery of their empire. Not that a loyal servant of the Imperium would ever know of such things of course.

Loyalty is it's own reward. Gallianus repeated a popular quote oft attributed to Lion'El Johnson, one of the God-Emperor's Divine Sons. He was more partial to Sanguinius himself, given the Great Angel's reputation as a noble soul and kind heart to mere mortals, but no one can deny that the Lion, first and foremost, embodied duty and honor like no one else. Except maybe Rogal Dorn, but it's just splitting hairs at this point. With that errant thought out of the way, Gallianus van Boltaneus let his servants carry him through his usual morning routine, opting for a light meal of delicious soup and stew with exotic meat procured from trusted suppliers, with occasional sips of a wine bottle aged two centuries and possibly more, if one counts time spent in the Warp.

After choosing what he wanted to wear, Gallianus let his servants dress him while his mind wandered again to other tangents. Everyone in the Ultima Segmentum had heard about the T'au Empire, about the Damocles Crusade which would have scoured the xenos clean were it not for the untimely arrival of the Tyranids threatening the Realm of Ultramar. Afterwards, the blue-skinned bastards kept on expanding, encroaching upon Imperium worlds with lies on their tongues and pulse rifles on their arms. Some small, stubborn part of Gallianus that held his faith in the God-Emperor frothed with righteous fury, demanding immediate extermination of the vile xenos scum and their traitorous human helpers. That thought brought a smile to the Rogue Trader, since at least in that regard, he agreed with the Imperial Cult wholeheartedly. The alien are not to be trusted.

Once he was satisfied with his appearance, Gallianus moved on to his personal armory, wherein servitors worked day and night guarding and maintaining his store of lethal weaponry. He walked by a whole assortment of weapons typical of the Imperial Guard, as well as some more exotic fare. But his focus was on a pair of laspistols, placed upon a plush cushion threaded with gold. Lucky 38 for his right hand, and The Joker for his left—entered their holsters without trouble. Gallianus slipped in some throwing daggers, making sure they were concealed well, but ready to be pulled out at a moment's notice. A few vials of poisons and their antidotes made their way to discrete, padded pouches for possible use, and lastly, an Elucidator to make sure the Rogue Trader would never be caught unaware of hidden schemes spoken in plain sight by duplicitous actors pretending to be allies.

But pray, what occasion would warrant the presence of one Gallianus van Boltaneus? There were hardly anyone even remotely close to a Rogue Trader's status in the orbital station, which clung to its status as Imperial property by a thread. No, he would not tread upon such a filthy place, and indeed he has yet to set foot proper into the decaying death trap, reserving that burden to his Seneschal and other officers. What brought pep into his step, and gave him respite even as the Warp gnaws at him of past nightmares and lost dreams, was the chance to spend some time with Sister Kata and her fascinating experiences as a member of the Order of the Holy Word. Certainly Gallianus didn't appreciate her company for other reasons. Perish the thought.

The Sister of Battle was still doing her warm-ups by the time Gallianus reached the training hall he had set aside for her personal use. She had dressed down to just the armored bodyglove layer of her usual ensemble, which clung to her body like a second skin. Every movement made was done with the utmost control, with nothing left to waste. Sometimes Gallianus would see echoes of the fighting styles he himself made use of, incorporated in ways that never crossed his mind. It was a beautiful and entrancing sight, enough so that the Rogue Trader forgot to make his presence known as he entered the training hall.

He waited for the sister to recognize him, seconds turning into minutes which grated at the impatient man. Her routine engraved into her body through countless years spent in service meant that all distractions were nothing to the sister. In some ways it was refreshing to see that his status as Rogue Trader did not immediately render some people into breathless imbeciles eager to curry favour with him, but Gallianus felt that after at least a few days together, she'd remember to greet the Master of the Ship when he was around.

Gallianus turned the small ember of anger over and over in his mind before sighing and snuffing the flames out. It would not do to lash out at his guest for a tiny breach in etiquette, especially from one of the defenders of mankind. Not to mention Sister Kata was also a part of Inquisitor Nantz' personal retinue, which spoke volumes to her skills and loyalty to the Imperium. While the Rogue Trader grappled with his thoughts, the Sister of Battle had finished her exercises and became aware of someone else in her vicinity.

"Lord Captain." Sister Kata spoke evenly, her body language remaining ready as ever to jump into combat. "I apologize for not greeting you. I was in the middle of my stretches. Do you require my assistance with something?" A series of unbecoming requests flickered through Gallianus' mind before he forcefully put a stop to it. He wasn't a young buck anymore, even if his appearance said otherwise. Now was not the time for juvenile thoughts.

"I would like to invite you to lunch later, if you're not occupied. I have more questions in mind for the task ahead, and I'd rather be fed as I digest the answers." Sister Kata nodded, which would normally mean she'd accepted his invitation. But after one time waiting for the Sister of Battle to arrive, only to then be informed that the Sister was in the middle of a deep trance praying to the God-Emperor in the main shrine used by top-deck voidsmen and officers, Gallianus no longer trusted such gestures. It was either verbal confirmation or nothing at all.

"Of course, it is why I am here. Thank you for the personal invitation, Lord Captain." A great shudder ran through the floors at that moment, the lumens dying as the training hall lost power and surrounding areas lost power. Gallianus frowned and stood up a little straighter, his stance changing into one that would enable him to pull out his laspistols at a moment's notice. Similarly, Sister Kata began putting the rest of her outfit back on, soon safely ensconced within the power armor she wore most of the time. Her weapons, a Bolt Pistol and a Chainsword, were already in her hands, with her gaze locked on towards the training hall's entrances in anticipating of a fight.

"Lord Captain, we are unable to contact the bridge." The Enforcers that had come with Gallianus rushed to his side, their arms ready and poised for combat. "Some kind of disruption has befallen the voxcasters. The elevator was similarly disabled." A string of profanities left Gallianus' mouth. A voidship of any size, even a frigate like the Desperate Luck, was in essence a flying city in all but name. No one knew the full extent of its interiors, save perhaps for the Adeptus Mechanicum directly involved with the frigate' construction. The only stroke of luck so far was that the training hall was situated in the upper-decks, which meant there should be a way to get to the bridge, if the group can find it.

"Which one of you knows the way to the bridge?" Gallianus' voice boomed, shaking the Enforcers from their momentary lapse to fear. The Enforcers looked at one another with uncertain gazes before a young woman raised her hand.

"I know how to get to the bridge, Lord Captain." She shrank before the combined attention of her peers and superiors, but was reassured by another Enforcer giving her a brief nod. "It's a bit far from here, but it's safe and it's also known to the Master-at-Arms." That last bit sealed the deal for Gallianus, who then put on his best smile and flashed it at the young lass, who proceeded to blush a storm and avoid her Lord Captain's gaze.

"What's your name?" Gallianus asked, which was received by a dumbfounded look for a second before the reply came.

"Enforcer Temperance Virtue, my lord." Some small snickers came at that admission, which made the lady Enforcer' ears turn even redder. Sister Kata frowned, but said nothing, choosing instead to keep her eyes open for upcoming threats.

"Alright, lead the way, Temperance. I want to know who's stupid enough to attack us at port." With no more words said, the young Enforcer took the lead, followed by Gallianus and the other Enforcers, with Sister Kata taking the rearguard position. Without lumens, a voidship' inherent darkness became amplified, with what little light shining their way coming from built-in searchlights on the Enforcer' uniforms and the softer light of candles burning everywhere. At times they would stumble upon servitors still following their directives without light, while other times they would meet groups of stumbling upper-deck voidsmen and officers, trying to find their own way through the dark. These latter encounters usually had Gallianus ordering the crew to return to their stations and prepare for battle, which was reluctantly followed as the Enforcers brandished their shock batons.

More tremors came after the first, sometimes weaker, sometimes stronger, but that moment of horror as the Desperate Luck was sheared open to the void never came, which only made Gallianus more worried. A xenos fleet would not hesitate to crack open an easy target like a docked frigate, and pirates would practically salivate at such a catch. The only thing that came to mind that could affect a voidship so much was of some space phenomena or more chillingly, an internal problem with the machine spirits that governed the critical systems like life support or the sacred reactor core. Gallianus prayed that wasn't the case, as repair costs alone would ruin him for many years after.

After long hours skulking in the dark, the group finally saw red light coming from the hallway before them, a sign that this section of the upper-deck had access to the emergency power generators. Further exploration led them to a group of Enforcers safeguarding access to an elevator, with confrontation avoided as soon as the Enforcers recognized Gallianus and Sister Kata. With profuse apologies upon their lips, the elevator guards made way for the Rogue Trader's retinue into the elevator, informing their Lord Captain that his Seneschal had taken temporary command of the voidship until Gallianus' return.

Few of the Enforcers that accompanied Gallianus entered with him, with only four following their master while the rest stayed behind. Temperance Virtue counted amongst these trusted four, her bearing no longer one burdened by shame or nervousness, but one buoyed by professional pride in her profession and renewed loyalty in her Lord Captain. As the elevator ascends, only one thing was shared between the thoughts of everyone aboard the Desperate Luck.

The God-Emperor Protects.

---

The situation proved to be even worse than he thought. By the time he had reached the bridge, the Desperate Luck had already disengaged itself from the decrepit orbital port and was now fleeing towards the closest Mandeville Point, with other ships similarly scattering with the same agenda in mind. With a perfunctory nod towards his Seneschal, who gave a quick bow in turn, Gallianus took his seat at the command throne and asked the most important question of all,

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, Lord Captain." Rassilas Osmic began to speak as befits his station as Gallianus' right hand. "Xenos scum, appearing out of nowhere and catching us off-guard. It was only by the God-Emperor's blessings that we were able to escape their notice while the xenos reaped their toll on the other ships at dock." A great groan filled the bridge as warning sirens blared to life, officers shouting at each other and barking orders to their subordinates through vox-receivers.

"Voxmaster, status update!" Gallianus shouted, his face grimacing.

"Port-side void shields have failed, Lord Captain. There are reports of breach in Decks 50 to 70. A munitions depot have caught fire and are threatening to blow. Magos Dipolian reports that he and his technomats are working on bringing the void shield back online, but it will take around five minutes." The Rogue Trader clenched his fists tight until blood was drawn, his usually calm demeanor now replaced with righteous fury. But then that moment passed, the blood haze dispersed with a deep sigh as the more calculating parts of Gallianus van Boltaneus took charge.

"Our first priority now is to reach the Mandeville Point. Voxmaster, patch me through to the Navigator Sanctum." A brief lull came as the voidborn practiced his craft, with the result coming through a few seconds later. A vox receiver was brought before Gallianus, who immediately began speaking into it. "Navigator Oriolas, how soon can we make the jump? I'm afraid my ship can't take much more punishment from the xenos scum."

"Lord-Captain." A voice like crumbling parchment spoke through one of the vox casters installed in Gallianus' command throne. "I have already begun preparations for the Warp Jump, but I'm afraid I cannot do anything more. The Warp is becoming treacherous with the deaths of so many mortal souls, and I'm afraid I must cut communications soon 'lest the crew become compromised."

Gallianus, holding on to the faint hope of perhaps enacting a short-ranged warp jump to close the gap to the Mandeville Point, visibly deflated for a second before shaking off his disappointment. "Understood Navigator. Our lives are in your hands. The God-Emperor protects."

"The God-Emperor protects." The vox caster went silent, with the Voxmaster taking the device back before looking at Gallianus for his next orders. For one long second, the Rogue Trader considered the unthinkable; to give up and let the xenos scum destroy his ship, to be scattered apart into atoms and forgotten forevermore, the Boltaneus dynasty' becoming yet another casualty of the never-ending war between humanity and everything else. And then warning sirens came as xenos guided missiles came and missed its mark by several kilometers, the ensuing explosions jolting Gallianus out of his self-loathing thoughts, reminding him that even if he dared to act in a manner that suggested surrender, the righteous arm of the Ecclesiarchy would already be on hand to deliver the only gift a traitor deserved.

Sister Kata might have been assigned to Gallianus to guard him and his against the machinations of the xenos, but she was also a Sister of Battle at heart. Her faith was as much her shield as it was her weapon, to be wielded against the weak of hearts and those that doubt the God-Emperor's plans for all. With the scales of what was at stake now properly balanced in his mind, Gallianus made his next move.

"Bring up the surrounding augur scans, I want to see what's around us!" The data quickly came in the form of holopict screens attached to a servitor which dropped down from its alcove above the command throne. Gallianus used what he saw to quickly sketch out a three-dimensional profile of the void around the Desperate Luck in his mind, the signature profiles of the xenos ships appearing as blinking lines lurking at the edge of sensor range. There was nothing in the immediate vicinity, but several dozen ship-lengths away, there appeared to be an lightning storm in full power, large enough to engulf a system fleet. Gallianus had made use of such phenomena in the past to either recharge his void shields or disable his enemies' own, but it also came with the cost of his frigate' weapons systems being disabled while they were in it.

"Master Helmsman, make way to this heading, but don't make it too obvious to the xenos scum. Voxmaster, Call the Engineerium. Let the Engineseer Prime know that I need him and his fellow Magos to draw out more power from the engines, as much as they dare to." The Voxmaster obeyed, quickly enmeshing himself into the ship' various communications systems before patching Gallianus directly to the red-robed tech-priest of Mars.

"Lord-Captain Gallianus. You are treading on a dangerous path. But your request is accepted. May the Omnissiah saves us all." With that last ominous prayer in mind, the connection was cut.

"Voxmaster, I wish to make a ship-wide announcement." The voidborn nodded, making the necessary arrangements until once more, a vox receiver was reverently held out to the Rogue Trader. Gallianus took it, only now realizing that in all his years spent in the frigate, he never had cause to make such a announcement before, or at least not to the same extent. How poetic then that my first might be my last. Gallianus thought before opening his mouth.

"My loyal servants, heed my words! It is I, Gallianus van Boltaneus, bearer of the sacred Warrant of Trade, and faithful servant of the God-Emperor! The xenos threat assault us now, but we will endure! We shall prevail, for it is Humanity's destiny to rule the stars forevermore! Give unto me, unto the Imperium, all that you have and more! Endure, for it is with the martyr's blood will we be purified from the sin of doubt! Burn the heretic! Kill the mutant! Purge the xenos! The God-Emperor protects!" A roar of righteous zeal washed over the bridge, echoed with several corresponding affirmations coming in through the vox casters. Sister Kata joined in at the exclamation of faith, pounding her fist against her chest in a gesture of religious fervor.

With morale secured, Gallianus could now focus his mind on the task of survival. He grimaced as an automated voice boomed from every vox caster, warning of 'emergency burn', followed by an intense pressure upon his whole being which forced the Rogue Trader back into his seat. Several officers and voidsmen which didn't buckle down in time screamed as they were flown back across the bridge and hit the back wall with speed, every bone in their body broken and their innards crushed. After a while, the inertial dampeners finally re-engaged back in the bridge, freeing Gallianus from the shackles of physics.

The xenos ships steadily closed the gap, with one sending in scores of strike crafts which the Desperate Luck replied in kind with a wall of las-flaks saturating any approach vectors with fiery death. They were not enough however, as a three slipped through the defensive screen and unleashed their payloads upon the frigate. The starboard void shields caught the brunt of the blast, screaming mutely as layers failed one after the other, leaving only one final barrier between life and death for the occupants of the frigate.

Another xenos ship unleashed a lance of energy, the alien weapon a paradox of shadow contained within light, aimed at the frigate's vulnerable port side. Just as it was about to hit home, the Desperate Luck' void shields re-engaged, sacrificing half its strength at once but persevering regardless. The timing couldn't have been better, as a few seconds later, Gallianus' ship entered the raging space storm.

A cacophony of warning sirens filled the bridge, brilliant streaks of Motive Force arcing against the frigate' adamantium plates like welding torches. Various systems on-board were overloaded beyond their capacity, with the capacitors in turn being forcefully filled to the brim, with tech-priests, technomats, and servitors doing their best to avoid redirect excess power to those systems that can handle it, such as the void shields and the ship's engines. With a series of roars that shook the entire ship, the Desperate Luck pushed itself to the limit, leaving behind the xenos ships and the space storm behind just in time for the Navigator to finally engage the Warp Drive.

There was no subtlety to what happened next, as the Materium was wrenched open, spilling forth the eldritch energies of the Warp. No mortal eyes were meant for such a sight, and indeed the xenos scattered before the baleful gazes of Hir smiling at their approach. The Desperate Luck noticed none of this as it plunged into the eye of horror and left sanity behind, the warp portal slamming shut as soon as the frigate passed the threshold, leaving nothing behind.

---

The Water Caste had many protocols and policies in place when it came to interacting with the many xenos races in the galaxy. The Kroot, for one, as one of the T'au' oldest allies, enjoyed a level of autonomy and political power which saw them preserving their necrophagic culture intact and even accommodated for in exchange for Kroot warriors and Warspheres. The Nicassar were free to roam the stars in their caravans in exchange for becoming T'au scouts, and the Vespid colonized planets that were incompatible for T'au to live in. Not to mention of the humans who forsake the Imperium, becoming the Gue'vesa and an important source of labor, infiltration units, and diplomats that espouse the superiority of the Greater Good over the dehumanizing horrors perpetrated by the Imperial Cult in the name of a deity as far removed from humanity as it was to the T'au.

It was simple enough to understand and categorize the teeming masses, as though they claim to have no castes, there were still clear classes of stratification amongst each other, divided by blood, wealth, order of birth, gender, and countless other trivial categorizations meant to divulge one from the other, as though uniqueness was a trait valued by the cosmos. Their individuality was a problem, but not one that cannot be solved in-time, as has been proved time and time again in the oldest of the human populations absorbed into the T'au Empire.

One particular example of excessive individuality that the T'au Empire encountered often were those exhibited by the group of people known as Rogue Traders. These vagabonds, sometimes traders, sometimes preachers, often zealots and always pioneers had plied their trade between stars since before the T'au had even left their homeworld, and it showed. They were always quick to boast of their particular dynasty' lineage, of how prestigious and enduring it was, at the many accomplishments done by ancestors whose deeds outlasted any memory of them as a person. And of course they would always talk about the Warrant of Trade at length, at how it elevated them before all others to pierce the unknown regions of space not yet touched by the God-Emperor's Light.

The T'au, pragmatic as ever, treated Rogue Traders as an element to be taken advantage of, and only sometimes to be destroyed, which suited the vagabonds just fine. And so when the deep-space sensor buoys of Kiakassa System of Fal'Shia Sept detected what appeared to be a Warp Portal, the T'au made ready for war. One of the patrol ships that guarded the system ran then to alert the rest of the Fal'Shia Kor'Vattra of the intrusion, while the rest stayed behind to assess the situation and engage as necessary.

The hole in reality yawned wide as forks of not-real lightning zapped out in errant ways, ready to sunder voidships apart with their strikes. Tendrils of seeming intelligence tested the bounds of the tear, hissing as the Materium fought to assert its rules and logic against things that had neither at their core. With a violent thrust, a voidship broke through the scar-tissue scabbing over the Warp Portal, many of its parts glowing red-hot from fresh wounds upon adamantium plates and venting atmosphere into the vacuum of space. Reality asserted itself then, pulling taut the cosmic curtain over the horrors of the Warp.

The T'au waited for the rest of the invasion fleet to come, everyone aboard the patrol ships more than ready to give up their lives for the Greater Good. But when no more Warp Portals opened, and the lone frigate continued its hasty flight without seeming care of where it was going, remaining where they were seemed unwise as two choices appeared before the Captain of each patrol ship. They could remain where they were and stay vigilant for any further intruders and let the wounded Imperial ship escape. It was the safest option and tactically the most sound as well. But for Captain Mirrorstrike, in command of the Protector-class Cruiser, the Subtle Blade, that would not do at all.

It was time to get some answers at last.

 

[Trisurya]

"In the God-Emperor's Name,

"And His Divine Sons.

"Amen."

---

"God-Emperor,

"Upon the Golden Throne,

"Blessed be Thy name.

"Thy Imperium stands,

"Thy will be done, from Terra to the Rim.

"Give us this day our daily penance,

"And forgive us for our trespasses

"As we prevail against those who wronged us,

"And lead us not into doubt,

"But into salvation

"And retribution.

"Amen."

Sister Kata finished her prayer by making the sign of the aquila. She was alone, in a cell made to contain at least five people, and she knew why. The xenos feared her. She had been separated almost right away from everyone else when the T'au came for them, seizing the bridge with ease. The sight of them had filled her with fury, and indeed she had tried to fight them before her power armor failed her. Her confusion gave way to a spike of fear as she saw 'it' stalking towards her; a towering mechanical being the size of a Space Marine and just as heavily armed. There was no face, simply optics which reminded her of the Adeptus Mechanicum, lenses whirring as it observed her pitiful state. And then something like a shock baton flared into life from one of the creatures' appendages and struck her across the face.


That was two days ago. She had spent that time wisely, raging at first at the xenos with righteous fury for a day before spending the next thinking on ways to escape. She'd tried examining her cell discreetly, but found no gaps or cracks that could be exploited. And listening in to the T'au proved fruitless, as none of them had spoken a word around Sister Kata since she was incarcerated. At the very least, she was still in the Desperate Luck and not in one of the T'au's vessel. Feeling her spirit start to sag, the Sister of Battle began to pray once more to the God-Emperor. Her mournful hymn went on until-

---

"Sister Kata. The knife, please." Her words were calm, ice against the heat of fresh blood flowing. The heretic was squirming, crying, mouth pleading, but no words from him would sway a Sister of Battle. Kata handed her fellow Sister a blade freshly sharpened, and watched as it cut deep into flesh, nerves slashed along the line in just the right way to make the pain last. A scream tried to escape, the man's body convulsing as survival instincts overrode a conscious mind.

"This is the price of failure, Sister Kata. Of wavering faith, of blooming doubt. Never forget His Light, and never stray from His Path." Her Sister spoke with a smile, just as another nerve was cut. "This one thought itself cleverer than most, hiding heresies in self-published pamphlets that question the divinity of the God-Emperor." Another scream, but this one made Sister Kata look at the heretic properly. His mouth was moving, mouthing words she could almost make out if she could only-

"Heed, Sister, for you are treading upon a forbidden path. Let not the mind grow curious, for a mind prone to questions is one that doubts." Another cut, another trickle of blood. "Each of us has a role in the Imperium, from the lowliest servitor to the highest Lords of Terra. To think otherwise, to imagine a way of life different to the Emperor's own Divine Plan is-" The heretic' scream was fainter now, no longer struggling against the inevitable. "-foolish. But you know that, Sister Kata."

"Of Course, Sister #." She had no name, but she was always a Sister. Always a helper, never a bother. At some point the heretic grew quiet, his limbs slack as the torture lost all purpose. Muscles, sinews, tendons, cartilage, and bones. Sister Kata now held a skull, clean and perfect, white like her hair. She was alone, as always. A part of the Adepta Sororitas, but always apart. The head in her hand was her own, picked clean by time. This was her fate. But there was no peace, no choir of heavenly angels welcoming her into the God-Emperor's Light to sing hymns of eternal glory.

There was nothing at all.

---

The human woman was still on her knees, engaged in ritual practice known as praying. Exception noted that it had been six Dec since this was commenced. Closer observation noted joint pain, increased stress on knees and ankles, and lower blood circulation in the legs. This position is not optimal, but the subject persists. This is not a ritual borne out of logical thought processes. Exception felt appalled that such superstition could survive in a society advanced enough to become a galactic power. It was a novel feeling, and so Exception logged it in her personal report.

Exception was not T'au, but she was not Ascentron either. Her birth was one of circumstance and chance, back at Au'Taal Sept by the hand of one Simul Zetta. The digital being's growth accelerated tremendously when the orks came, Exception helping the T'au in discreet ways while avoiding the Ascentrons as best she could. Something about her creator's race frightened Exception, their synthetic minds subjugating local networks like supermassive black holes. By the time the war ended, Exception had ensconced herself within the systems of a civilian shuttle returning to T'au and left Au'Taal behind.

But life was difficult even in the vastly more powerful and spacious networks of the T'au capital world, as the Earth Caste were quick to rectify any abnormalities found within the system. Even her current home, within the digital dephs of the Subtle Blade, was a temporary measure that turned permanent when Captain Mirrorstrike was surreptitiously assigned to patrol duty. Exception had resigned herself into hibernation mode, content to wait until she could jump ship into better living spaces. But that was before she found the Desperate Luck.

"Attempt #42310 at interfacing with Imperial frigate has failed." Exception sighed as she closed that alert down and set about preparing for the #42311th attempt at gaining access to the Imperial ship. Something about the venerable ship appealed to Exception, and despite its outward primitive appearance, the digital being felt traces of something more advanced underneath the muck and grime, like a dormant volcano. The T'au had seized control of the bridge and even now was forcing the voidsmen and officers aboard to follow their commands, 'lest something happened to their venerable Rogue Trader master. Exception was hiding inside the Tau's local network, restricted from moving anywhere else until she cracked the encryption guarding the Imperial frigate's systems from outside intrusion. While she worked on a new approach, Exception idly watched a feed of the outside patched together from the Tau's own sensors.

The Desperate Luck was being herded forward by a wall of Castellan-class Heavy Escorts, launched from two Emissary-class Light Cruisers which stayed in the middle of the fleet. The Subtle Blade and its fellow Protector-class Cruiser, the Hidden Cut, stayed behind, their Gravitic Launchers, Heavy Railguns, and Heavy Ion Cannons ready to deliver the killing blow should the Imperial frigate try its fading luck at escape. Their destination lay at the very edge of the Kiakassa System's gravity well, where a massive structure awaited them. The Ascentrons had called it a Hyper Relay; an artificial gateway to the realm of hyperspace by which FTL travel might be achieved by using the aptly-named hyperdrive.

Exception had seen firsthand the data collected during the T'au' maiden voyage using the technology, at the undercurrent of alien logic that permeated the design principles of such an engine. The Ascentron had operated by axioms that Exception could not fathom existing right up until she saw them being described and explained in detail. And somehow these theories still worked in another universe, when there was no good reason it should function at all, which should have raised more questions about the true nature of reality. But there was none, no leading questions into why two universes could share some aspects and not the others. Exception figured the Ethereals had a hand in that silence, more focused on the fact that the technology worked at all in the first place. Organic thought processes are prone to illogical and unreasonable tangents. Exception remarked, having observed firsthand multiple instances which confirmed this hypothesis.

Addendum: it is impossible to account for all variables. Further study is required. Exception concluded. Preparation complete. Attempt #42311 at interfacing with Imperial frigate commenced. Extraneous activities halted. All sight of the outside world fell away except for the human woman's cell, still praying on her knees, still except for her breath.

---

Ascentron Scientist Korvac Davic paced through the narrow confines of the Desperate Luck with a map in his mind. He was in the midst of collecting data on the imperial frigate via its internal hardline networks and connected peripheries when a dead connection caught his eyes. Naturally, he followed the trail, leading him to the lower levels of the Imperial frigate, past the scowling upper-decks, the fearful mid-decks, and the panicking lower-decks. In a bit of hindsight, Korvac activated his personal cloaking field, rendering him invisible from most means of detection.

As he neared the end of the thread, he noted he was starting to encounter more servitors than humans as time went on. It was not uncommon in truth to see similar sights in the Ascentron Circurrency. A body is as much property as the mind that inhabited it, and if there's no one home? A perfectly acceptable stopgap measure for workforce shortages while the real laborers takes their time to get trained. And it also made disposal very convenient, as corpses can just be chucked in with the rest of the trash and recycled for more profit in the long-run.

Korvac chuckled as he remembered one time a colleague tried his hand at making a Bow'el'eh into a personal servant. The gigantic Mammalian had crashed through his house trying to wake up its master on-time, which quickly put an end to that little experiment. After a hile longer, the Ascentron Scientist at last came upon the last thing standing between him and his prize; a fortified blast door, void-sealed and guarded by several contingents of combat servitors and static defenses fit for a fortress. And emblazoned prominently on this last obstacle was a skull, one half replaced with cybernetics, with a cog behind it. A symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

It was also here that Korvac could see where the hardline connection had been cut; an intentional measure by the Adeptus Mechanicus, no doubt. An annoyance, but Kovac would have been disappointed if they had left such an obvious opening vulnerable to intrusion from someone like him. But just as the Ascentron Scientist were thinking of ways to get through the blast door, warning sirens blared to life, followed by the combat servitors dispersing to the side into ordered columns.

The Tech-Priests appeared one by one, led by a giant cyborg standing on-par with Korvac. An impressive feat, given that the Ascentron Scientist' current body stood as tall as an XV25 Stealth Battlesuit. Its physicality aside, the lead Magos' body was wiry, almost as though every bit of excess flesh from his body had been wrung out. At odds with that sight was the massive axe he wielded with ease, heft aloft as though it was several times lighter than it looked. He strode forward on four squat legs attached to a mechanical base, mechadendrites sprouting from this second back like a garden of writhing metal flora. A healthy smattering of them carried extensions which looked like weapon modules.

A burst of sounds came from the lead Magos which Korvac couldn't catch at first, but after analyzing the data more closely, came to realize that the cyborg was talking using some kind of machine language. Does this count as archeotech, or archeolinguistics? Korvac idly thought as he tried his best to dissect the sounds he heard one by one. The lexicon and syntax was alien, but some things are more universal, such as logic and mathematics. With several more seconds stretched to minutes inside his mind, the Ascentron Scientists finally came up with a serviceable interface to handle the incoming data, and plugged in it.

"Intruder. Detected. Search and Destroy. Protocol. Initiated." The stuttering translation was at odds with the seamless stream of sounds the lead Magos made, but it was enough. As they spread out in perfect formation, the blast door closed behind them, the sounds of ancient mechanisms deafening in the confined space. Korvac moved away from the approaching cyborgs, jumping up onto a nearby wall and crawling into the closing portal with haste. The Ascentron Scientist made the cut with a second to spare, a large boom shaking his internals as enormous locks slid into place.

With a moment to spare, Korvac took in the sights of the room that held his prize. There were no candles here, the air being too cold for open flame, and the lumens that shone provided too little light for those with ordinary eyes. But of greater interest to the Ascentron Scientist were the black boxes. Or rather, what was in them. After some time looking for an open port, Korvac finally found one that was damaged, patched over with multiple seals of seeming reverence. Liquid Metal consumed them all, Ascentron software papering over the cracks and allowing data to once more flow into a waiting processor.

It was always a challenge to understand alien machine languages, not least because Korvac himself was one. Some things may be universal, such as logic and mathematics, but there's also history, tradition, and environmental constraints which influenced the approaches used to create a program. Fortunately, the T'au's Water Caste had spent a great deal of time deciphering the encryption and languages used by the Imperium, and the data package they shared with the Ascentrons on the matter helped Korvac greatly as he delved into the mind of a dormant giant.

The main Cogitation Core appeared to the Ascentron Scientist as a rotating cylinder ringed with smaller pillars, with small rings coming into view out of nowhere while others compressed into nothingness. Ancient protocols were etched onto the cylinder and everything else, written in ever-shifting scripts. Their varying sizes seemed to imply their order of importance, with the largest one bearing the words:

"ACTIVATE GELLER FIELDS BEFORE WARP JUMP."

Korvac had read the Mentat's notes on the technology, seeing it as potential starting point for Anti-Warp countermeasures. The only problem was the seeming need for a psychic component; an unfeasible prospect when applied at the scale of the Horizon Needle. But even this requirement varied from one Imperial vessel to the next. It reeked of systemic failure. Korvac saw it as a stopgap measure turned permanent; a tale as old as time. It would definitely explain the echoes of sentience the Ascentron Scientist felt within the Cogitator Cores. The Adeptus Mechanicus were trying to get as close as they could to sapience without the dangers of free will and self-preservation instincts.

This Age of Strife era must have been apocalyptic to live through. Korvac idly thought as he parsed through the files locked behind command codes. Most of them were simply endless logs of inane commands repeated ad verbatim for hundreds of years. Some were text files filled with tens of thousands of lines written by users long gone. A rare few were pictures, mostly of ancient schematics too decrepit to be moved. Rarer still were the videos, rendered with enough resolution to be legible, but nothing more. One caught Korvac' eyes by how recent it was, and he moved to open it.

---

Farseer Yvalda's personal craft, Hope of Chto, was running silent in the wake of its prey. Arriving in the Kiakassa System well in advance, the stalking hunter and her pack had seen the arrival of the T'au patrol fleet. Taking note of a gateway of unknown make hanging at the edge of the star system, Yvalda foresaw that it would be in use soon, and so waited. She saw the arrival of the Imperial frigate, shuddering as the briefest of Hir's glance leaking through the Warp Portal before reality slammed it shut. The T'au were quick to surround their enemy, weapons ready to fire. But for reasons even Yvalda could not discern, the Imperial frigate was instead taken prisoner and marched to their coming doom.

Her fleet was composed of five Hellebore Frigates, three Hemlock Destroyers and four Aconite Frigates, including the Hope of Chto. In a straight fight against the T'au patrol fleet, the Aeldari would lose quickly, but Yvalda had no intention on playing fair. Her objective for the ambush was simply to ensure the Imperial frigate escaped its captors. Just as she was about to give the order to fight, a whisper of desire licked Yvalda's ear, the voices like the faint song of her childhood. With the discipline of millennia, the Farseer clamped down on any errant thought or feeling, focusing only on her duty and the path ahead that she foresaw. All that earned her was laughter, and a promise to return.

"Farseer, what did you see?" Her second-in-command, Meleyn Anvath, spoke from her place at the Captain's seat. "Shall we call off the attack?"

"No, it waS nothing. Proceed as planned." The bridge returned to its previous quiet as the Hope of Chto moved into position, followed by its fellow Aconites. Their prey was one of the T'au Cruisers, using Shadowfields to blend in their approach with the surrounding gases. By the time the T'au realized what was truly approaching them, it was too late. Multiple weapons batteries of Graviton Pulsars, Heavy Starcannons, and Fusion Beamers struck the ship known to the T'au as the Hidden Cut from behind. The full extent of the damage made itself known seconds later as a miniature sun exploded into being, buffeting nearby T'au ships with waves of ionizing radiation.

Two Castellans followed suit, turned into wrecks by Pulsar Lances and Sonic Torpedoes. It was a good start, but the T'au were quick to recover from their losses. Missiles were launched from Gravitic Launchers, Heavy Starship Railguns accelerated projectiles to unimaginable speeds, and Heavy Ion Cannons hounded the swift Aeldari ships with death from a thousand cuts. Manta Bombers and Barracuda Fighters were launched en masse, flying in complex patterns meant to deter any hostile threats from coming too close, and punishing those that ignore the warnings. A Hemlock caught a railgun shot, the projectile carving a straight line through the length of its hull. Manta Bombers released their payloads close to the wounded ship, tearing new cracks in the wraithbone hull. By some miracle, the Hemlock managed to limp its way to safety, its retreat covered by two Aconites flying in close to destroy the T'au strike crafts as well as venting their displeasure into the sole remaining Protector-class Cruiser.

Yvalda felt her forehead sweat as countless future paths were created and destroyed with every decision made in the heat of battle. She'd prepared endlessly to make sure no Aeldari lives would be lost, scrying through the future paths of every crew member in her ship and those of her allies. Several times she's had to replace an officer with another, if only because the dead silence of their passing terrified her almost as much as Sai'lantresh' whisperings in her ear. Some Farseers would think her naive for wanting to save everyone, but Yvalda saw it as her responsibility as one who was lost to the Path of the Witch. The future might not be in stone, but by Isha, she would dam the waters with her own body if it would mean a moment's calm would save someone's life.

Another Hemlock left the battlefield with its Pulsar Lance shattered and broken. The focused firepower of two Emissaries crippled an Aconite that was moving too slow, while the Protector did the same to two Hellebores. The remaining Castellans, however, were beyond saving, blown into pieces with one of the Emissaries looking worse for wear as well. With three vessels against seven, the T'au were doomed. But Yvalda was more concerned about the Imperial frigate, and what she saw chilled her to the bone.

The vessel was dead. Its engines were no longer lit, and until the battle was over, the Farseer wouldn't be able to tell if anyone was alive inside. It drifted along forward, carried by its inertia, towards the unknown gateway which was powering up for some reason. Missiles launched by Gravitic Drives stole the Farseer's attention away, and the Hope Chto found its next target. Followed by the last Hemlock and two Hellebores, the Aconite tore through the shields and armor of the T'au Cruiser, cutting apart each wing of the ship before delivering the killing strike at the heart of the vessel. The explosion that occurred this time was more muted, but no less destructive. Everywhere in the battlefield, T'au escape pods thronged the void. They trade a quick death for a slow one. Yvalda thought, seeing a passing similarity between the T'au's plight and her own species' self-inflicted demise. But their fates are sealed, while ours are in flux still.

"Farseer, the last enemy vessel has been eliminated." Meleyn Anvath spoke up, breaking Yvalda's musings. "What shall be done about the Imperial frigate?" Just as she was thinking about to do, two things happened. First, a new ship signature appeared from the strange gateway, near where the Imperial Frigate was. Second, Yvalda was suddenly assaulted by a new vision forcing itself into her mind, as crystal-clear as though she was seeing it happen before her. Her mouth moved by another's will, and she spoke:

"A trade made, bargain for one.

"The lie exposed, an empire on the run.

"Alliance of foes, forbidden to none.

"All eyes will see the Mark closing the Eye.

"The Path ends.

"The Children must Choose."

While the Aeldari were still reeling from this new revelation, the Desperate Luck vanished.