Herald of the Stars: Chapter One Hundred and Two (Patreon)

A big thank you to Jeff Fischer and Grissa for donating their personal efforts to Herald of the Stars.

I have rearranged parts of the last chapter (101) and added an additional five hundred words (19/07/23). None of the content is vital to the story, but I was thinking about food and wanted to work out how sustainable these big vessels really are. Having gone to all that trouble, I though I would add it to the story and share it with everyone.

Two currents pull at my attention. One is too narrow for Iron Crane and so I turn to the other, a broad tunnel that dives deep into the Empyrean Sea. With careful commands and calculations I steer Iron Crane into the current and submerge the vessel further into the Warp.

As we follow the current, the vile light of the Astronomicon fades and flickers. I hadn’t expected that at all and after nine days of descent, all I have to guide me are the simulated flows around the vessel that play over my skin. The deeper we get, the more the pressure on the gellar field rises and the bubble of reality surrounding us is slowly squeezed smaller and smaller.

Beyond the current that ferries us through the Warp lurk vast shapes lurk, poking tentacles, teeth, and fins through the violent edge of the current as they tap impatiently at our shrinking defences.

During the twenty-third day of our descent, the current levels out and, at the same time, the extremities of our hull start poking outside the gellar field. The inscribed runes flare brightly, igniting the appendages of all creatures who dare caress the hull with bright white flame. Endless screeches assault my ears and frost forms on the hull, degrading the sensors.

We are incredibly deep and, from the accounts I have read, I know that at such great depths time often has a barely whisper of influence. I have no idea what the date will be when we finally surface. I am incredibly grateful for the alternative gellar field design on the Iron Crane compared to the one on Distant Sun as that field would have likely failed by now.

There are three types of gellar field: structural, mechanical and organic. Organic gellar fields rely on the dreams of imprisoned psykers to maintain the field. They are easier to make, slip through the Warp quickly, and leave few disturbances for predators to pick up on.

The downside is that you need psykers, a rare resource in most of the Imperium, for them to function and they are prone to failure, becoming increasingly feeble the faster you try to slip through the Warp’s grasp. It isn’t a pleasant existence for the poor fuckers who are often decapitated, stuffed in a box and kept in a coma for their entire existence either.

Distant Sun’s ‘Belacane Pattern 90.r Gellar Field’ is a high performance, low reliability example of an organic Imperial gellar field. Their normal organic gellar field is called ‘Standard Gellar Field’, with all the dull passion of a tech-priest who’s submitted themselves to the ‘Rite of Clear Thought’ and replaced the creative and emotional half of their brain with a cogitator.

Structural gellar fields rely on the hardiness of the material they are engraved on, usually an adamantium alloy. They are incredibly sturdy, use almost no power, aid navigation, and hide the vessel from greedy eyes. They are the superior option in all cases until your hull is breached, then their performance degrades rapidly. Only the most desperate of captains will rely on one after a tough battle or bad collision without patching the hull first. The Imperium calls them Warpsbane hulls, a rather fitting name, I think.

Last are the mechanical gellar fields like the one built into Iron Crane and I’ve been calling it an ‘Origami Pattern Gellar Field’. Mechanical gellar fields are a marvel of Dark Age technology that require no psyker or stable hull to maintain function and, consequently, are the most reliable of the three types. From my experience so far, it is also the slowest type too.

I expect we’re moving through the Warp around the speed a League of Votan or Tau vessel might. Compared to a Tau vessel though, Iron Crane does not have to skim the warp and thus should arrive at its destination sooner than a Tau vessel, even while travelling at the same speed. I don’t know how it compares to a League of Votan vessel exactly as I don’t have proper records for comparisons.

For all their brilliance, mechanical gellar fields aren’t perfect. They were designed at a time before the Empyrean Sea was filled with monsters and void ship genatoriums were much more powerful. As such they use twice the power of a ‘Standard Gellar Field’. They are also a little noisy and, from my observations, attract a fair amount of trouble. Some of that attention might be my Warp Tap implant but I’m not going to test that right now.

Speed, power, and noise are compromises I am willing to trade for an almost impenetrable defence. However, in the great words of a knight from a galaxy far, far away: “There is always a bigger fish.” The longer we stay at this depth the more anxious I feel and I don’t want to become a side dish in some titanic struggle between a space whale and an eldritch squid.

After a month in these perilous depths, dodging grasping tendrils, ectoplasmic chunks, large rocks, and all sorts of weird distortions and phenomena, the current leads us back to the surface. We shoot up through the empyrean sea in a handful of days, breaching the surface at such speed that we end up metaphorically airborne. I steer Iron Crane back to the pseudo-surface and we accelerate towards a small tear that spews starlight like a water geyser.

Iron Crane’s power generators spike until they output the same power as a red dwarf and punch a hole in the Immaterium. The geyser reverses and we are dragged through the breach and back into realspace. The breach squirms and shudders, as if something tries to follow us through, but it can’t compete with Iron Crane’s power output and is forcefully closed. At the last moment, six comets are hurled through the gap and, against all expectation, slip through the void shields and smash into the engines.

The asteroids shatter like snowballs sending sparkling ice out into the void. It doesn’t cause much damage, and I wonder if that was an attack or some child-like eldritch creature was looking to play.

Smirking at the idea of the Emperor in a snowball fight, I check my internal chronometer and it notes fifty-nine days, void ship time, have passed.

The tank drains and my feet touch the floor for the first time in weeks. A door hisses open and I trudge from my watery prison to stand at a maintenance station. I hold my arms horizontally and six mechadendrites whir around me, unplugging the suit from my spine. They peel back the suit and whisk it away, then clean me with special solvents and anoint me with sacred oils. It actually feels pretty good. Mechanicus hymns play over the vox from the Melodium and my body sheds stress.

As the machines tend to me, Sadako, Iron Crane’s primary machine-spirit, manifests in my vision.

“Good evening, Magos.”

“Hello, Sadako. How are you after your first trip through the warp?”

“This vessel is pure. All systems at full function and within tolerances. Cargo is secure and unharmed.”

“Excellent. Congratulations.”

“Likewise, Magos. You built and steered me with elegant efficiency.”

“What does this new system look like?”

“Stellar classification is ‘B’, planetary bodies are significant in size and quantity, as expected for a star of this magnitude. There are six gas giants in the outer system, five inner rocky planets, and two outer rocky planets. All rocky planets are between three and five times the size of Terra. There is an asteroid belt in between the third and fourth inner rocky planets. There is no Kuiper belt, but all the gas giants have unusually dense accretion disks. All currently detectable planetary bodies and satellites are barren of life and unnatural structures.”

“Thank you, Sadako. What are your best time and distance estimates?”

“We are approximately twenty two years Coreward and fifteen Spinward from Marwolv, touching the edge of the Accursed Demesne nebula. Stellar drift compared to the scan before we jumped suggests we are within two, plus or minus, years of our departure date. More accurate calculations are not possible and are within the expected tolerance of this vessel’s observations.”

“That’s a relief. Has there been time to detect any new paths we could take for our next warp translation?

“Negative, Magos. It will take an hour to build an adequate picture of a new system. Detailed scans will take much longer.” Sadako frowns at me, “You know this.”

“Apologies, Sadako. I am only flesh and it is most wearied from its labours.”

“Then this vessel will remain vigilant until you can converse properly once again.”

“Thank you for your time and knowledge, Sadako.”

Sadako disappears and, once I am clean, I head to a locker and retrieve my undersuit and uniform, then put it on. I check myself out in the mirror, admiring the jade green loose martial jacket and trousers I ordered then leave the navigator spire.

One of my minds arranged this appointment as began our assent and, while a rest might have been wiser, I can’t keep putting my work in front of my life and wish to snatch whatever joy I can from this chaotic galaxy, even if I have to make the most of my implants to do so.

A team of six twist catchers meet me in power armour and protective hoods, cradling flamers and lasguns, as well as a squad of Heralds. We can’t be one hundred percent sure nothing got through, or no crew members have been subverted, so I’ll have to accept bodyguards on my own vessel until we can be sure the risk has passed, which might be never.

We travel through Iron Crane to the promenade as I exchange small talk with the captain in charge of my company of bodyguards, a man called Bedwyr Keane. The interaction helps me unwind and by the time we arrive, I feel a bit more ready for my appointment.

Iron Crane’s promenade is quite different to the one on Distant Sun and is part of the crew quarters. It is closer in form and function to a hive spire habitation block, with mixed residential, commercial, and services zoning.

Large, windowed blocks stretch two decks, or two hundred metres, with sky bridges between them. Servitors zip around on rails attached to the sides of the blocks tending to large amounts of greenery and bright flowers tucked between decorative reliefs, mosaics, fleet heraldry and religious iconography. Up close, it is a discordant mix of decorations but the overall effect is delightful.

Balconies protrude from the blocks and a bright, artificial sunlight pours from above. A gentle, fragrant breeze flows between the blocks, keeping the air warm and fresh. The occasional suspended monorail wizes over my head adding to the murmur of voices and thunder of footsteps. Shops line the streets, as well as small cybernetic clinics, daycare centres, and other services.

Over two hundred thousand people live in this space and while I am here it is easy to forget I am in space. There are thirty-six, one hundred metre wide blocks built in a grid, with the central block of each group of nine dedicated to specialist services, like healthcare, greenspace, education, or religion. It’s a massive three hundred and sixty cubic metres of space per person, though that includes traversal spaces within the blocks and all the community spaces and services areas, like shops and schools.

Despite its size, and including the space between the blocks, the crew quarters take up zero point zero, zero, two, two, zero, five, cubic kilometres of a vessel that, when expanded, is thirty-two point eight cubic kilometres in size, approximately. Yes, at eight point two kilometres by two kilometres, the Iron Crane really is over thirty-two times the volume of Distant Sun. I could transport nine Lathe-Class Light Cruisers, or twenty-seven Cobra-Class Destroyers in the hold if I really wanted to.

I honestly find the numbers quite silly, even while walking around it. The rest of the time, Iron Crane is five point six kilometres by one point one kilometres, or six point seven, seven, cubic kilometres or a bit over twice the volume of a Lunar-Class Cruiser.

The length expansion is for the shipyard and the width expansion is required to create the factory space needed to assemble large components and hull sections, which are carefully ejected then brought in through the front of the vessel to the dock. Nothing big actually moves through the vessel as it is stuffed with facilities. An Origami can’t actually use a lot of its manufacturing, or access most of its storage, when it is retracted. Changing size takes thirty-six hours.

As for why one would bother with such complexity and not just build a bigger vessel in the first place, there are two main reasons: deception and manufacturing. When retracted, the Iron Crane looks like a supply ship because, in a way, that’s exactly what it is. What it doesn’t look like is an incredibly valuable and vulnerable mobile shipyard. There’s even a Q-Ship variant called Aurochs-Class Mass Conveyor that emphasises the Origami’s transport, expansion, and deception aspects.

Manufacturing a battleship sized vessel requires a massive shipyard, an Origami-Class however can be built in a cruiser sized yard and, when starting from nothing, halved the time it took me to build the ship. Especially as once its manufacturing facilities came online, Iron Crane could help build itself. Given the primary purpose of an Origami-Class, getting it finished faster means it can start building vessels sooner, which means a better response time to possible threats or social and economic pressures.

I arrive at one of the four central towers and clear my thoughts as I take the lift to a private garden and its combined teahouse and restaurant. The floor has a bizarre mix of influences best described as gothic oriental fusion. Stone lanterns, carried by mechanical brass gargoyles with exposed cogs and blinking cybernetics, line paths of polished granite slabs. The light of their flickering flames reflects off the stone and their burning scented and sacred oils complete the other half of scents from carefully curated flora.

Moss lawns and perfectly cloud pruned pine trees fill the space while small, organic birds and butterflies flit between the branches. Lily-filled ponds and clear streams wend their way through the floor, glittering with robotic fish with scintillating scales of precious metals and precisely cut gems, creating rainbows beneath the water. The sky is an electronic screen, and so are the walls. Unless you examine it with cybernetic senses, you can’t tell the vistas they portray are fake.

I absolutely love this space. It’s also the most popular date spot in the fleet.

I hope Brigid likes it too.