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

The next four weeks go as planned and the only discovery of note is the high percentage of metallic asteroids, a whopping thirty-two percent, four of which is adamantium. With the data gathered from the system we are able to create a model of how it was formed and realise two of the rocky planets in the system collided fifteen million years ago and their shattered remains are easy pickings.

Unfortunately, none of the remaining planets have an atmosphere and the radiation is high; it’s a rather shit place to build a proper colony or terraform any moons or planets. Even with our void shields I’m glad we aren’t staying here for long.

Any potential mining stations would have to hide in the shadow of a gas giant at the edge of the system. Their mining barges and crews would have to be suitably equipped for long term exposure to hard radiation and anything they mine would require additional purification as well. Thanks to its Warp proximity to Marwolv, I’m not willing to write this system off, but I wouldn’t call it a great start to our travels either.

The only progress I make while crossing the system is personal as Brigid and I settle into a routine, squeezing time from our commitments to spend one day every ten days with each other and a couple of evenings as well.

To a younger couple, this would be sheer madness and a sign of a troubled relationship, but to someone in their late seventies like me, ten days passes really fast, so long as I keep one instance of myself at a standard speed.

Brigid is a decade younger than me, but she’s the type to stare at a complex problem for two hours and find out it was actually two days when she finally comes to. Fortunately, we have access to each other’s diaries and can schedule ourselves in. As neither of us always read ahead of what we’re supposed to be doing at any one moment, meeting up is occasionally a complete and delightful surprise.

We leave the B sequence star system and arrive at the next after a brief, five day skim through the Warp. This one has a russet, K sequence star. The routine starts up again. Scan the system, plot a route, then survey and travel while dropping planetary probes, satellites, and grabbing atmospheric and coronal samples. There is no need to delay our travel to grab resources as we have plenty, and we aren’t building new vessels right now.

Like this, we continue to travel for three years, each system taking, on average, between three and five weeks to travel to and survey. Our journey times are more dependent on how far we need to cross the system to get to the next Mandeville Point, than the time we actually spend in the Warp. Something I am grateful for as it is a horrible place.

My skills as a navigator grow and I begin to understand the subtle flows of the warp and better pick up the punishing light of the Astronomicon at greater depths. No longer do we have to drop to every system as I learn to skim the surface of the warp to pick out nearby currents and their direction, letting me steer Iron Crane between them if they are heading coreward and aren’t too far away. That doesn’t stop us shoving out a probe for a quick scan though. No need to give up valuable data for the sake of an hour or two, circling a Mandeville Point.

Throughout my downtime, I work on my projects and practise my navigator skills, as well as gradually assemble the most complex E-SIM module to date: Warp Infrastructure. I purchased this module for a crown and it is the most arcane science I have learned.

During the thirty-ninth intra-system traversal, I stand before a workbench in my clean assembly room, in my quarters, examining an orange box the size of a commercial airline flight recorder.

My quarters on Iron Crane are a larger version of those I had on Distant Sun. I still have a state room on Distant Sun, but I gave the private laboratory and workshop to the new captain. The workshop and laboratory of my new quarters is a fairly unassuming space as most of the machinery and equipment are in self-contained boxes, varying in size from a mini-fridge to a lorry trailer.

The machines are in the Federation style, with clean lines, flat surfaces, and brightly lit. The colour palate is muted and inoffensive. There is the odd touch of gothic flair as an homage to imperial culture. The ceiling is vaulted, switches are lined with gold, buttons are faced with the Opus Machina, and there is a small altar to the Machine God in an alcove. The altar is cut off by a transparent void shield so that the incense, scented oils, and candle smoke do not ruin the cleanroom protocols my laboratory and workshop operate with.

I also have a machine shop, where I can perform more traditional labour, like metalworking and carpentry. This space is in the mechanicus style, again with a vaulted ceiling, but with extra angels, skulls, and gilding as well as small alcoves holding statues of Imperial Saints. There is also a wall mosaic of the Emperor and his uncorrupted sons slaying faceless and deliberately obscured depictions of Immaterium entities. There’s another mosaic of the Stellar Corps, led by myself, fighting xenos.

Having an image of my own, Imperium approved achievements displayed opposite the Emperor and his sons is hugely egotistical and unsubtle. Perfect for displaying my dedication to imperial values. If I took it seriously, I would cringe every time I saw it. Most of the time I think the decorations are a good laugh, but I can’t quite suppress my pleasure and pride I get for completing the large artworks.

It’s not a skill I had before I woke up in the forty-second millennium and applying the technical drawing skills I have picked up to a creative pursuit often feels like a greater achievement than the labours that are depicted in my art.

The scent of incense and oil is heavy in this room, with an undertone of sparking metal and sawdust. I rather like the smells and much prefer the machine shop to the cleanroom. I find the quiet drone of gregorian chant, murmuring from the vox casters in the mouths of the imperial saints, quite soothing. The machine shop isn’t the right space for the box I’ve just finished though.

The orange box, or Warp Infrastructure module is an esoteric arcanotech construct called a data structure. A data structure is an artificial Warp entity. It is an idea, or dream, in a box, one that the more you know about how it works, the harder it is to make. As you can’t make one without knowing everything about it, it was an immensely frustrating and fascinating object to create.

One problem was that a data structure is influenced by one’s interpretation of it, which is why mine is orange, because I thought of it as a black box technology and couldn’t get the idea out of my head. Knowing that the so-called ‘black boxes’ on aeroplanes are actually ‘international orange’ in colour, meant that I had to colour my Warp Infrastructure module orange or it would not work. It shames me to say, but this reminds me of Ork technology as they paint stuff red to make it go faster, or black to make it tougher.

The technology also has similarities with the ‘philosopher's feline’ principle, which I absolutely refuse to name properly in my head because I do not want to have to fit a furry critter inside a too small box.

I hold out my hand over the box, “Alright E-SIM, send it in.”

++Acknowledged.++

A bolt of lightning strikes the box from my hand and the module is teleported to the warp.

++Translation Successful. Running Diagnostics. Success. Running test sequence. Test sequence successful. Powering up Warp Infrastructure module. Time to initialisation, thirty minutes.++

“Thank you, E-SIM.”

I walk to my personal armoury and don my new armour and servo-harness. It bears some resemblance to the Astartes Mark IV Maximus Pattern Power Armour with its thick chest plate that I took from the space marine STC. While the large, rigid plate makes it difficult to bend your waist more than fifty-five degrees, the single piece is relatively easy to manufacture and more robust than the two piece torso armour of the Mark VII and VIII. I don’t have the STCs for those either. It is far less fragile than the small plates I was using before.

The external look of the helmet was copied from the Mark VII Aquila Pattern Power armour, the same armour worn by Sergeant Odrahan of the Barghest Chapter, rather than use the Mark IV, as I didn’t want to be miss identified as a chaos space marine. The electronics inside are all from the Mark IV though. The traitor legions were issued the Mark IV right before the Horus Heresy and use them far more than loyalist marines do.

I added the gorget from the Mark VIII Errant Pattern too and discarded the bulky shoulder pads of space marine power armour in favour of the more flexible, segmented arms and legs of Mechanicus Dragon Scale Pattern Power Armour.

I’d love a stealthy and manoeuvrable Mark X Phobos Pattern, rather than this cobbled together imitation of Belisarius Cawl’s grand work, but that’s exclusive to Primaris Vanguard Space Marines and Riever Squads, so I doubt I’ll be getting hold of one anytime soon. Perhaps with time, and enough looting, I will develop my own, but it isn’t a priority.

With my armour in place, I grab my prototype of the Mark II Marwolv Pattern Lasgun and a plasma pistol. My servo-harness reaches out and fixes fifty micro-missiles to my shoulder. I’m not ready for where I’m going, but then, I never will be.

I send a vox to Bedwyr Keane, “Bedwyr, as discussed, I will be initiating my experiment within the next fifteen minutes. While I should remain in contact with you, do not be alarmed that I will not be present.”

“Very well, Magos. We will be waiting to assist if you need us.”

There is a slight resignation to his voice. He is not happy, but then, that’s his job. He wouldn’t have such great equipment either if I didn’t perform the occasional dangerous experiment.

“Thank you, Bedwyr. Issengrund out.”

I wait out the final fifteen minutes, examining the lasgun. It has a few nifty features, like the double barrel. There is only one focusing lens at the end though. The double barrel reduces the stress of burst firing hellfire standard shots, reducing the cooling requirements and increasing the longevity of each barrel by fifty percent.

Rather than fire two thousand hellfire shots, or ten thousand within a standard lasgun power range, this gun will do a minimum of six thousand hellfire shots as burst fire, or thirty thousand at its lower power, automatic fire setting.

The average lifespan of an Imperial Guardsman is three minutes during a battle, so there is little incentive to make a long lasting weapon. My Heralds are far more robust and spend a lot of time at the range, so it is worth producing a more long lasting, complex weapon.

The design is based on the Kalibrax V-1 Pattern Lasrifle used by the pre-heresy Solar Auxilia and the Integrated Lathe-Lasrifle, favoured by tech-priests. I borrowed the over and under barrel arrangement from the Tau pulse rifles. The beefed up focusing lens, was cribbed from a long-las and cranks up the effective range from two hundred metres to one thousand metres.

None of this is revolutionary, the tricky part comes from the integration with the void armour of the Stellar Corps, or my custom power armour. The Mark II Marwolv Pattern Lasgun doesn’t have a charge pack, but takes power from the armour of the user through the gauntlets, rendering it useless if your enemy steals your weapon and removing the need to reload. There is no awkward cable like the first version, or other imperial hellfire designs. You can literally hold the trigger for two hours straight before you need to replace the barrels.

The other feature of the weapon is its aim assist function, where the machine-spirit in the gun coordinates with the ones in the void armour so that every shot the user fires in burst mode hits exactly the same spot, punching through armour it wouldn't normally be able to breach, like Tau fio’tak, or even space marine power armour.

This is the function I struggled so much with as everything had to be carefully integrated between all the different systems, then make it point and shoot like an FPS game on easy mode.

Friend or Foe identification and image recognition cogitators for human and xeno armours and their weak points also took a lot of work. The ‘best guess’ machine-spirit was even more complicated. The gun even has stabilisers in it so you can run and keep the gun level while you do so. It is stupidly easy to use. Hold the trigger for standard power automatic fire, squeeze it once for a hellfire burst. That’s it.

Put it in the hands of an idiot and they at least won’t shoot the wrong person, like themselves. For a skilled individual, it is absurdly deadly, letting them put their focus on battlefield awareness and tactics, rather than trying to make difficult shots, or count their ammo. It effectively extends the number of hours an individual can fight for without supply, rest, or losing concentration. While the additional firepower is fantastic, it is its ease of use that really makes it deadly.

Last of all are the two rails. The rail at the bottom can attach the standard bayonet or vibro-blade, or a one shot shotgun, flamethrower canister, or grenade launcher. These are all standard imperial designs.

What’s new is the micro-missile launcher attachment I created. It can hold one shot and there is a clip on both sides of the gun that can hold two reloads each. They are launched using the armour’s auspex guiding the way, a button press, and a mental command using an MIU. Their variable payloads allow for each user to combat a larger range of threats at range than they normally can with grenades or flamethrowers, without having lug around specialist weapons that might not be needed.

The rail on the top can hold a scope, but there is little need for it with the zoom functions of the armour. Instead, there is a sensor mechadendrite that can be used to peek around corners, or swivel back and forth, giving a more comprehensive view of the environment than a restrictive helmet would normally allow. You can even use it to watch your own back, if you really want to. It also helps with picking targets when hiding behind a MOA shield.

The Marwolv Pattern Mark II Lasgun and MOA Mark II Void Armour are currently in testing. I am waiting to hear back from Maeve with her verdict, but I wouldn’t take it for a jaunt if I didn’t think it was ready.

++Adrich, the module is ready.++

I blink rapidly, shoulder my weapon, and take a deep breath, “Open the portal.”

A black marble appears in front of me, hovering in the air. It trembles, little blobs form on its surface, then it explodes into a three metre wide, purple portal. The centre pushes out like a convex lens and swallows me.

The portal snaps shut and from one infinitely short moment to the next I am placed elsewhere.

I sweep my lasgun from side to side, looking for threats and taking in the environment. Desert sands swirl up worn stone steps to a flaking basalt platform. Above my head is the arch of a three metre, circular gate, similar to an Eldar webway gate. My lips twitch with a suppressed smile when I notice it is bright orange.

Above lie the dizzying swirls of the warp, crashing against a vibrant dome of energy that, with every tumultuous clash ripples with the light of the aurora borealis.

In the distance hangs a voidship, my eyes and sensors take in its almost incomprehensible bulk as I calculate its size. Fifty kilometres long, sixteen kilometres wide, and twelve kilometres tall, the vessel is unlike any imperial vessel I know of: its central beam is sword-like with a pronged hilt that gives the vessel a distinctive trident look. Defensive turrets line its spine and keel and a powerful lance hangs beneath its central prow.

The Cathedral and Castellan structures are more like a cluster of hive spires, than a single structure. The batteries of lances and macro cannons lining the two outer prongs the the front third of the centre hull are as numerous as they are gargantuan. The spine mounted turrets are equally imposing.

“Holy shit! What is that?”

++That, Aldrich, is me.++