I stood before the guardian of the vault, a ginormous cybernetic chimera made up of three minds and a cathedral of failing circuitry. It had stubbornly held itself together for over ten millennia, and now demanded an impossible answer for access to the vault while holding the entire planet as ransom.
The Emperor’s name?
What the hell, do I look like the owner of a certain multi billion worth workshop that specialises in producing grim dark games?
I started spamming thought acceleration, digging out all the details from my mind on that subject while getting a good look at the situation.
What should I do?
What would Syrine do? Well she, or I could—a flurry of visions abruptly flashed before my eyes, informing me of my options, similar to the last time at the monastery gate with that pesky Arbites trooper—I almost gasped at the revelation. The guardian, and even myself, didn’t know about this back then, but the moment I got this close it had already surrendered control.
I could completely disrupt the guardian with a heavy dose of psychic dissonance, incapacitating it. With my innate ability I could cut off the guardian’s control from its body, keeping the three minds isolated but alive without triggering the warheads, or I could forcefully transfer the trigger control to myself while cooking whatever was left of their organic brains in their adamantium shells with warp lightning. It might have been able to resist my remote take over before, but at point blank range it had no chance. All I had to do now was to reach out, touch it and make it mine.
I looked at the imposing guardian again and for the first time saw it truly for what it was—a decrepit cyborg cobbled together from the remnants of fragile humanity. Despite being the one wearing a human skin between us, I was the real monster here, a gene-forged apex living weapon shaped by the most powerful being of a galaxy-spanning empire. The realization struck me with an unexpected feeling that teetered between hysterical laughter and a peculiar sense of grief.
Still, the notion of not even honouring to answer a question to an entity that had dedicated itself to duty for 10,000 years pained me. From here everything that followed would be little more than a formality permitted by my discretion. I tilted my head up, looked at the guardian squarely in its many optics before responding.
‘Which one?’
No response, so I continued my answer.
‘If you are referring to the birth name He received near the banks of the Sakarya River on Old Earth, no one but Himself knows the answer. He had countless other names throughout the ages. He was king, warlord and conqueror many times. He was Alexander the Great once, at another time He was Saint George. To His companions of great antiquity, He was Neoth. If He had ever referred Himself to you…’
Scenes from a short story flashed through my mind, it was a tale about the Emperor visiting the last remaining church on Holy Terra at the end of the Unification Wars. There, He engaged in a lengthy conversation with an elderly priest, discussing why religions were flawed and science was the path forward, before finally revealing His golden, godly form. The irony of it was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. The Emperor used a rather pretentious moniker in that tale, the only one that came to mind in this context.
I readied up before saying my answer. ‘...To you, He would be Revelation.’
The guardian didn’t react, it was so close I could reach out in less time than the blink of an eye, and probably enacted the kill switch in half that time, so I waited. After a few seconds it talked again, but instead of verifying if my answer was correct, it asked another question.
‘Do you also know what He said upon His first arrival on Mars?’
Oi oi oi, it was supposed to be just one question-
Another book flashed through my mind. Absurd as it was, my binge reading on many novels and source materials of the grim dark future was keeping this conversation going. I remembered that story.
‘... You meant the day it rained on Mars?’ I asked.
It nodded, a curiously awkward human gesture given its vast, inhuman form. Imitating a passage from the story, I reached out.
‘Your machine is damaged. May I?’
Again it didn’t respond. Gingerly I made contact with one of its many legs. For a fleeting moment I considered the idea of directly reading its minds for the correct answer, but there were three of them and “foul play” might complicate matters so in the end I decided against it. The important thing was to make sure I was in control.
[Simulatio] activated-
Just like how the visions had shown, the simulation confirmed I could kill it and take control, its ramshackle state from eons of disrepair made the process easy. Since destruction was possible, I wondered if the reverse was true.
I ran the simulation again, aiming to attempt a feat in the story by directing my power to improve the neural and hardware pathways linking the machine to the guardians’ perceptions of the world. An instance later I had my answer, this seemed doable. Even if the guardian decided to play rough afterwards, I could instantly kill it. My decision was made, I amplified my powers and said the words.
‘Machine, heal thyself.’
A dose of finely calibrated psychic energy was released, and it pulsed through the massive frame of the guardian in a golden glow, fine tuning sensory receptors, amplifying mental and machine connections, burning away soot and gunk. As the effects exerted themselves, a metallic sheen returned to the guardian’s body, its many optics glowed brighter and they started looking around again, taking in what must have been a sudden vast improvement in sensory input.
‘This power…’ it started saying, and was shocked to find its mangled voice had become clear. Likewise, its binaric cant came up sharp and crispy, probably for the first time in ages. I had no idea if this was psychic Mechanokinesis or material manipulation, but it worked.
It stumbled, looking seemingly as dumbfounded as I was before turning to look at me again. We exchange stares in silence for a moment before it slowly knelt down, the guardian’s massive form and its many limbs pressed close to the ground.
* * *
Some time ago, on the edge of the Externus System.
The cold void shuddered and reality convulsed before a bloom of impossible light tore open the blackness, vomiting forth a starship from the warp’s clutches.
A modified cruiser, Divine Ordinance, emerged in a storm of etheric fire, its adamantine hull groaning as it passed through the Immaterium’s parting veil. Warp-born lightning clung to its flanks, dancing in brief, writhing arcs before vanishing into the abyss. Gargantuan and ancient, the ship’s hull bore both the scars of old battles and claw rents left by the talons of unknown horrors.
Within the bridge’s vaulted gloom, ranks of servitors twitched as machine-spirits reasserted control. Tech-priests chanted binharic hymns to soothe the ship’s spirit, their voices blending with the hums of void-shields flaring to life. Auspex arrays flickered, the lingering ghosts of the warp’s madness washing over them before hard data and reality reinserted themselves. Across the bridge, hololithic displays flickered and shifted, scrolling lines of encoded text blooming into tactical readouts. Star charts updated, celestial markers shifting to reveal their true position.
‘Transition complete,’ intoned the helmsman, his augmetic eyes flickering towards the command throne where the Lord-Captain sat. The master of the ship exhaled, grip easing on his command throne’s armrest.
‘Navigations, confirm our position,’ the captain called out.
A pause. Then came the reply.
‘Confirmed, my lord. We are in the Externus Systems.’
There was a burst of cheers and applause in the gloomy bridge, and the captain allowed it for a short while before restoring order. Even so the man couldn’t hide the smile from the edge of his mouth. Warp traveling was never easy, it was more nerve-wracking when doing it with a new beacon instead of the Astronomicon for navigation.
The moment Divine Ordinance stabilized in realspace, the ship’s vox-arrays flared to life. A cascade of secured transmissions flooded its communications relays, machine-code handshakes crackling through layered encryption protocols.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
‘Receiving data burst, Lord-Captain,’ announced the vox-officer, his fingers moving over the rune-studded console with practiced ease. ‘Imperial cipher recognized. Source - local relay station, designation Aegis Zeta. Updating now.’
‘Inform his eminence of the good news.’ Said the captain.
In the heart of Divine Ordinance was a room unlike any other, it was a large chamber befitting for a man who believed that he spoke with the voice of the Emperor Himself. Here the air was laced with the scent of burning incense of the highest quality, its curling tendrils rising from golden braziers set at each corner of the chamber. Crystal chandeliers hung high at the vaulted ceiling that was inlaid with gold filigree, their lights illuminating carved reliefs of saints and martyrs adorning the chamber walls.
At the heart of this sanctum, upon a throne-like chair of ivory and crimson velvet, sat His Eminence Cardinal Paudinith IV, a bulging figure swathed in layers of embroidered robes. A chalice of sanctified amasec rested on the table before him, its crystal surface catching the glow of the chamber’s luminor globes. Above the cardinal cyber cherubs drifted in silence. Then came a knock at the grand, gold-inlaid doors which disturbed the revenant quiet.
‘Come in.’ Paudinith answered with a voice that oozed with calculated charm.
The door opened, revealing a hooded man in dark vestments. He stepped forward, formed the sign of Aquila and bowed deeply.
‘Your Eminence, we have arrived on location.’
‘By the Golden Throne’s blessings!’ Paudinith said as he exhaled through his nose, ringed fingers idly tracing the rosary beads wrapped around his wrist. He had felt the ship’s transition into realspace, and now, he could wait no more.
‘Where is my report?’ Paudinith demanded, his voice switching to an authoritative tone.
‘We just received it,’ the chamberlain replied, and produced a large data-slate.
Finally, full reports about the mysterious living saint on his planet. No more encrypted telepathic messages, no more limited details. Paudinith was ecstatic as he gestured his chamberlain to approach. As the man came in to hand over the device, he accidentally knocked the chalice over, spilling the drink. A slap immediately landed squarely on the chamberlain’s face with a resounding clap, the impact dropped the man to the floor.
‘Clumsy fool!’
Shaking with barely concealed rage, Paudinith stood up from his massive chair and was about to dish out more punishments when a knock sounded at the door.
Who the–? The cardinal turned and found the unannounced visitor to be the only person on the ship who he couldn’t lay his hands on. It was also the only person the Sororitas posted at the entrance to his chamber would let through. Standing at the door was the third most powerful person on Shrine World Sanctitas Primus, High Deacon Malthea Sancturne. Dressed in a floor-length cloak of deep crimson velvet lined with ash-gray silk, her holy appearance was completed with a matching high headdress.
Malthea took a look at the situation before dropping her comment. ‘Your Eminence, we just arrived safely via the new beacon. Surely this is an occasion so blessed that it calls for the grace of forgiveness?’
Paudinith almost scoffed out of habit but stopped himself. The high deacon was someone who he could not carelessly disregard. He was forced to reply tactfully. ‘My Lady High Deacon, while your concern is appreciated, the management of my servants is an internal matter. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’
‘Apologies for my unannounced visit,’ Malthea said and walked in uninvited, ‘I heard the full report has been delivered to you, my Lord Cardinal. If you could be so graceful, I wish to view it with you.’
‘Such enthusiasm and devotion.’ Paudinith nodded, ‘very well, as expected from a devout servant of the Golden Throne.’ No member of the Ecclesiarchy could resist the urge to know more about the rising living saint, even someone who was as self-centred as himself understood that much. Turning around, the cardinal dismissed his chamberlain. ‘Leave us.’
As the servant left hurriedly, Paudinith placed his thumb on the data-slate, unsealing the data and letting Malthea view the report from beside him. The classified files opened up, and just looking at the primary bullet points almost stopped the cardinal’s heart. Full blown civil war with Chaos cultists conspiracies, daemonic manifestation, Inquisition and Mechanicus involvement with a psychic beacon. Just what the hell happened while he was gone?
Reading the brief outline, Paudinith understood things quickly got under control with miraculously low casualties, and all that was primarily due to the contribution of the prophesied Holy Daughter. Relieved beyond measure, he got curious and pressed the thumbnail picture of the saint candidate, the saviour of his planet. As the portrait picture popped up to fill the whole screen, the cardinal found himself momentarily confused at what he was seeing. Is this the cover of a vanity magazine or…?
‘Throne, this is unexpected. She is pretty.’ Malthea’s comment pulled Paudinith back to his senses. Over the millennia the Imperium of Man has borne witness to the rise of many living saints, and more often than not they were deeply solemn individuals with a burning mission in life. The lady on the screen, in comparison, looked almost too demure to be associated with those attributes.
Paudinith started swiping through the series of breathtaking pictures before abruptly stopping, on screen was the same girl sticking out of Sororitas Rhino open hatch, a blue flaming sword in hand pointing forwards and golden halo on her head. Right below the picture was a declaration that the image was free from altercation or manipulation, the halo and the blue flame were confirmed to be real manifestations.
‘Blessed mercy of the God-Emperor!’ Malthea gasped as she involuntarily made the sign of Aquila and bowed.
‘This… ’ The cardinal lightly trembled as he looked at the dreamy portrait. It felt like a long awaited dream coming true. His seat of power now hosted the psychic beacon that glued the isolated subsector together and would soon officially welcome a living saint. All the importance he had always craved was suddenly his.
He studied the portrait intensely again before slowly reaching out with a shaking finger to caress it. To think, this pretty little saint in waiting was sent by the God-Emperor to fulfill his holy mission. Paudinith was moved to teary eyes, his decades of boundless service must have convinced the divinity to grant him the means to achieve that marvelous dream of making Nusquam a peerless Shrine World. The cardinal almost salivated as he ran his pudgy finger over the picture again. She looked so very precious, glowing like a shiny jewel that held all the access to his dreams.
Oh, this felt very much like a divinely ordained affair. He, Paudinith IV of Nusquam, will become the Arch Cardinal of the whole sector, a voice representing the God-Emperor Himself in these troubled times. He could not wait.
It will be beyond glorious.
* * *
The tension finally subsided with the deactivation of world-ending warheads being confirmed. The guardian then opened the secondary blast door leading to the real vault.
While the place was pitch dark, for a psyker’s otherworldly senses it was bright as midday due to the active beacon, that and I have my halo on. Still being psychically active, my attention was instantly pulled towards the centre of the vault where the beacon was located.
That feeling, could it be… ?
‘I am going ahead to take a quick look at the beacon,’ I announced, and stepped into the darkness before anyone could respond. After a quick [Auspex] wave confirming there were no traps around, I quickened my pace, walking past massive columns of what appeared to be infovaults and many rows of strange machines to reach the centre chamber.
Here, the silence gave way to a low humming pulse and what awaited me was an otherworldly sight. The place was vast with concentric tiers of stone sloping down into a crater. In the center of said crater was the superstructure of the actual beacon looming like an exposed heart. The beacon rose from the ground in the shape of a giant egg, or rather, half an egg, with the other half disappearing into the ground. On its surface was an endless patchwork of circuitry and arcane sigils. Pale flickering psychic light, imperceivable by human eyes, coursed through the circuitry like blood through veins.
Standing there, I could feel its massive psychic presence and pressure it exerted. As I stepped forward to get a closer look, the hum grew louder in deep resonance. Then it clicked, and my jaw dropped. I finally understood the peculiar sense of familiarity emitted by the beacon.
She is here.
Rather, her soul was here, attached to the psychic beacon in a trance-like state but definitely here all along. Syrine was right here.
We had really gone full circle.
Syrine - Rising Saviour Saint of Nusquam. - Fin
Volume 2 is finally done, there may or may not be another short chapter of epilogue, we will see.
Many, many thanks to you, the readers who have supported the story with encouragements and comments, extra thanks to those who generously treated me with a random cup of coffee or two. When I started the story it never occur to me this writing will go on for years and slowly consume most of my free time, but the more I dig into the concept the more I feel like I have a story to tell so it kinda worked out.
Do I start commissioning a real artist for the cover for Volume 3 or attempt a DIY? Decision, decision...
I might also go back to the early chapters to fix some capitalisation inconsistencies. Because a battle sister is not a Battle sister and definitely not a Battle Sister. I swear some of the formating can drive you crazy when you take a closer look at it. When in doubt, refer to BL books.
Anyway, thank you for reading.
+++ End of Log +++