Herald of the Stars: Chapter Eighty-Two (Patreon)

While one thought stream enjoys the view and ponders future plans, another watches the scouts’ recordings of the crash site. It’s a mix of picts, vids, and auspex that the stellar corps and its machine spirits have laboured over to produce a virtual construction of the zone, free of all the visual artefacts and scummy weather that make planning an offensive from the original recordings a mind bending endeavour.

The simulation shows that the rok slammed into the planet with enough force to flatten everything within one hundred and sixty kilometres and shatter every non-mechanicus window on the continent. The mushroom cloud reached space. How then did the rok survive impact, let alone the orks within?

Imperial ships occasionally ram other vessels at a notable fraction of lightspeed and both sides withstand the collision, an event I find quite ridiculous. The rok was less fortunate, and is in four pieces. The back half is mostly intact and slid for thirty kilometres, creating a new lake that is slowly filling up. The front three sections broke off; one on impact, and the other two broke off during the great skidmark and tumbled away, creating two more furrows on the planet before coming to a halt.

As for how the orks survived the collision, thieving bastards that they are, they have the same artificial gravity technology as the imperium, which can negate sudden shocks. Orks are also much more hardy than humans and their special brand of cobbled junk teknologee partly works because they believe it will, though this does have limits; the more orks there are, the stronger the effect.

The mechanics remind me of the ‘Schrodinger's cat’ thought experiment. So long as you don’t stick your nose into the box of gubbins and take a closer look to see how their machines actually work their devices function just fine.

In other words, the cock-eyed shrooms survived the crash because they never considered they wouldn’t survive it.

Between the Imperium’s rabid theocracy and the orks willful imagination, ignorance in the forty-second millennium has become a survival trait. Personally, I like to blame the imperial cult and inquisition who like to burn people any time your average pleb dares to know more than nothing.

John Snow would do well here, I am sure.

The rear half of the rok has been pummled to near scrap by Distant Sun’s lance and melta-shell macro cannon orbital bombardment. There is a single bore hole right through the engines and six craters, each over two hundred metres wide and four hundred deep, on its hull. No significant heat or electromagnetic radiation is present and a lot of gretchin are swarming the structure, cannibalising parts and shipping them elsewhere.

The rok isn’t entirely abandoned, and the edge of the craters in the hull are being shored up with scrap. Rain is hampering their efforts, pooling in the craters and seeping into the rok. I can’t tell what they intend to do with the structure yet.

As for the front three pieces, they’re surrounded by scaffolding and it’s impossible to make out what the orks are up to. I am absolutely sure I will hate it when I find out though.

Envoy Lynu finally arrives. She looks much healthier and less worn down than before and has changed her clothes to a hyperweave undersuit and a clear helmet, and a loose orange jumpsuit. Unlike other uniforms, the jumpsuit isn’t made from flak weave and armaplas. Instead, it is a tough, synthetic polymer.

The undersuits are still armour and can take a lasgun shot or two. Unlike the crew, I saw no point in armouring a prisoner twice, but I didn’t want the tau to suffer any ‘accidents’ either, or freeze and suffocate to death while traversing the ship. Taking away the suits is an easy way to confine them to the guest quarters too.

Two heralds flank Lynu and stand behind her after I direct Lynu to join me on the stone bench.

“Good day, Magos.”

“Hello, Envy Lynu. How has your stay aboard the Distant Sun been so far?”

“Given the reputation of the Imperium of Man, far better than I had hoped, but one always wishes for more. What can the tau do for you, Magos?”

I nod, “Many things, I hope. I intend to have the guest quarters converted to something less lavish. We will replace them with xenos-quarters and you will be given a small amount of input so that your community’s long term health and productivity remains high.

“Everything you can do for me will be restricted to your area of the ship or via remote operation. We don’t even have a proper ceasefire yet and your polity is headless and unable to negotiate your release. You are prisoners of war. It is possible you will do so until the end of your lives, unless you wish to try another new colony within the Imperium’s sphere of influence?”

Lynu holds her hands in her lap in a tight grip, “You would allow this after all we have done?”

I grin, “There are no ethereals in your group. Perhaps a little freedom from your overbearing ruling caste will give rise to a more cooperative relationship between our peoples. Besides, good work deserves a reward. Even for prisoners.”

“There is a touch of the greater good in you after all, Magos.”

“Once upon a time, on a planet far, far away, in a time long lost to humanity, I may have agreed with you.” I shake my head, “This war-drunk galaxy has obscured my vision with bloody spray and mists of tears. While I prefer to focus on my own survival, the Emperor’s indifferent light holds doom at bay for all species. The Imperium’s unintentional greater good, if you will.

“Such things have a price, however. A sacrifice. One the Imperium can barely pay. You can think of your stay on the Distant Sun as your contribution to the Imperium, and thus the greater good of all species. A contribution that will indirectly save your own. A stronger Imperium means greater sacrifice is possible in the Emperor’s name and so his light spreads to more worlds, keeping the vile whispers that drove your ethereal mad and far from the ill-prepared minds of your psychically deaf castes and auxiliaries.”

Lynu shakes slightly, “The two-headed bird.”

“Aye, one of four such beings and their myriad legions that the tau unknowingly tempts everytime you experiment with the warp. These may have been unconfirmed accounts and children’s tales to you. Now you know better.”

“I wish we had never learned.”

“Me too, but one cannot hide from the dark while, as we all do, lurking within it.”

Lynu nods slowly, then glances at me. I turn and look her in the eyes.

“This isn’t going to be a discussion. I am going to tell you how things are and you will have to trust my kindness, that tiny, raw spark of the greater good which still burns in my jaded, plasteel heart. Like the greater good, that spark thrives on cooperation. Understood?”

“Yes, Magos. I understand and will communicate your will to our small community.”

“Good. All your people will be fitted with brain-machine interfaces called a mind impulse unit, or MIU in abbreviated low gothic. This will serve multiple purposes. First you will be able to access the noosphere via the sleeping pods, though this will be restricted and no tools or command lines will be enabled for you.

“You will be able to access various virtual environments to minimise claustrophobia and provide a small amount of entertainment. I am warning you now that the entertainment branch of the noosphere has no hard connections to any of Distant Sun’s functions or databases. You will get absolutely nowhere if anyone tries to mess with it and lose the privilege.”

“Yes, Magos. The more free-spirited members will be warned.”

I shrug, “If they fuck up, that’s on them. I suggest you hand over any schematics and data you have for the similar implants you use to pilot your battlesuits. This will let me remove any painful or terminal incompatibilities between human and tau physiologies.”

Lynu’s shoulders tense.

I continue, “You will be fitted with an MIU irregardless of if you hand over your equivalent and I have enough samples to understand it anyway. This is for me to check my work, not steal from you.

“As for any other technologies you may have hidden, I am not going to insist on them. You can sell them to me as and when you wish for privileges, better accommodations, and better food. Perhaps even the machinery required to start a new colony, when and if you are ready to move on.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Magos.” Lynu puts on a charming smile. “How about a void ship?”

I raise an eyebrow. “It is illegal for me to sell imperial technology and hardware to xenos at this time.”

Lynu nods, “I see.”

“To continue, some noosphere environments will let you interact with the crew anonymously. By that, I mean Aruna, our primary machine-spirit will know who everyone is and monitor all interactions, but those whom you speak to will not know who is or who is not tau. I hope these interactions will gradually reduce hostilities and acclimatise our cultures to each other. Should this prove successful, you may earn the right to visit the promenade and observation dome, just like other crew.”

“Thank you, Magos.”

I nod, “The other purpose the MIU serves is it will allow authorised tau to exit the xenos quarters while remotely controlling a servitor and interact with the crew with, hopefully, minimal harassment so that tasks that can’t be brought to you can still be completed. The same caveats as the anonymity of the noosphere will apply and, for security, it is unlikely a tau will ever pilot the same servitor twice.

“We use this piloting method for dangerous environments and hard labour that can’t be done by an undirected servitor. Do keep in mind that an MIU, in conjunction with the sleeping pod, is perfectly capable of mimicking the wear and tear on the servitor that is being piloted. This is a punishment for scurrilous, careless, and aggressive crew who haven’t quite done anything bad enough to deserve the brig.

Lynu flashes a small smile, then quickly hides her expressions once again, “An enlightened practice, Magos.”

I huff, “Save your flattery and will get through this conversation much faster. Now, to the tasks I require. Your earth caste members are of the most use to me. I cannot let you access Imperial technology, or continue to meddle with the human genome. There is, however, a metaphorical grey area.”

“Please enlighten me, Magos.”

“Mutants. I have thirty mutants I recovered from Errudition’s Howl’s bilge deck. I require three labours from the tau: discover the cause of these mutations, design the tools and medicines to detect and prevent them, and last, you must create methods to reverse and treat mutations in humans.

“Depending on the quality of your results, I will permit a variable amount of additional time on these tasks to complete the same research for tau. One never knows what they might find in the galaxy and I prefer to be prepared.”

“I will see it done, Magos. Do you have a timeline for this research?”

I shake my head. “No. One does not wish for enlightenment and it cannot be rushed. You will be supervised by a team of tech-priests and adepts. So long as reasonable efforts are being made to progress through the problem in a logical fashion, no ‘encouragements’ will be applied. This also includes asking for assistance if you don’t know how to proceed.”

Lynu’s eyes widen, “You are asking us to be a normal research team. Nothing more? To be part of your crew as we are human?”

“Until such time as willful errors and non-compliance is expressed, that is all I will ask. I have read that the tau who assimilate human worlds treat them as second class citizens. Until I am given a reason not to, I will extend you the same courtesy.”

“Thank you, Magos,” Lynu leans back on the stone bench and smiles. It’s the first genuine expression I’ve seen from her.

“You are welcome. In the spirit of cooperation, you will be paid. Our currency for the fleet is bytes and it is based on a unit of energy, one kilowatt hour. I do not know how that compares to your own energy units. To put that in perspective for you, assuming one hundred percent efficiency, and the air pressure on Marwolv at sea level, one kilowatt hour can boil eight point six kilograms of pure water.”

Lynu nods, “Thank you for your teachings, Magos.”

I frown at Lynu, “For now, prisoners will receive the minimum stipend of twenty-five bytes a day. This represents the average energy required to supply the minimum air, water, food, healthcare and shelter an average human requires per day. It does not include noosphere access outside training.

“We don’t actually charge the crew for such basics and the stipend allows for a few small luxuries per day, like recaf, alcohol, and better food than soylent viridans. As prisoners, you will be charged for such basics.

“Prisoners who choose to work will receive additional compensation, they will begin on the wage scale as if they are a tech-apprentice and can work their way up like any other crew member. That means fifty bytes a day.”

Lynu, “So you will not force labour upon us, but the choice is to work for you and enjoy a few luxuries with a chance for freedom to poison us with hope, or spend our days staring at metal walls waiting for death.”