A few days had passed since the Eldari had made an appearance and left. We'd jumped a few systems, and were traversing across the Obridao System. I was now free to explore the halls of the vessel, taking in the morbid creations that made up the crew and servitors of the Judicial Pyre. One such creature approached me, its wings flapping in a near vain attempt to keep it alight in the air. Its infant body was broken up by tubes, computers and machinery. The machine spirit within the entity was dull and driven by a singular purpose: to serve. I held up my hand, and the creature landed on it, looking up at me with a depressingly blank, morbid expression. Cyber Cherubs is what they called them. The tech-priest claimed they're a mix of mere tissue and mechanical parts, not an actual child. Yet... My heart ached for it. For what could have been had it simply been grown to maturity rather than used this way.

  My mind wandered to what fate would have befallen my brothers and I had we not been taken from father before being removed from our incubation tubes. Would he have turned us into such creations? Is this the Imperium he envisioned? Where mankind is nothing but a twisted amalgam of hatred, malice, and bitterness?

  I pressed my forehead against the Cherub's, seeking any humanity therein, yet its skin was frigid against mine.

  "Lord Angelos?"

  Gabriel stepped forward. "Yes, my lady?"

  "I wish for any technological designers within your chapter to begin new designs to replace these cherubs. We can do better for humanity."

  I could feel Gabriel's gaze on me.

  "Speak your mind, Lord Angelos."

  I could sense him shift as I continued to interact with the cherub, trying to illicit a play instinct, or anything that might resemble human interaction.

  "What is wrong with them, my lady?"

  "They could be more versatile. Sturdier. And perhaps have more of a purpose than menial servitude."

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  The cherub continued to look up at me, awaiting a command.

  "Everything in the empire has its purpose and place, my lady. The Cherub's serve their express purpose." Gabriel came to stand closer, his gaze flicking between mine and the Cherub's. "Like many servitors, they're merely vat grown, so if your concern is whether it was meant to be a person, it was not."

  His words cut deeper than they should have. I responded without thought, my tone sharp. "My brothers and I were vat grown."

  I felt Gabriel's shock, guilt, and horror swirl into a heady mix.

  "Do not assume that because a being was grown in a vat that it has no future as a person. Unless..." I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "I am not a person?"

  Gabriel began to stammer, but stopped himself. He cleared his throat. "I meant no offense, my lady. I was unaware of the origin of the Primarchs. Your creation is shrouded in mystery. But if I may, my lady?"

  He gestured to the Cherub in my hand. I nodded.

  "You and your brothers were clearly grown with the purpose of being fully functioning, sentient beings of great power. The being's grown for servitor status are grown as blank slates. They have no intelligence of their own. They might as well be braindead."

  My jaw muscles tightened as I returned my gaze to the cherub. He was right. I knew that. Guilt gripped my heart: it wasn't Gabriel's fault the Imperium was this way. Yet I had cut into him as if he were responsible, when he was merely a product of it, a victim of this terror machine they call the Imperium. My thoughts went to Roboute, and I felt a stirring of rage, disappointment and betrayal. They called him Imperial Regent. He's the ruler of this Imperium. He's responsible.

  "I'm going to-"

  I stopped myself from finishing that murmured sentence. I sighed softly and kissed the forehead of the cherub.

  "I am so sorry, little one. To have a life denied to you merely for being grown in an artificial womb than a natural one. It is a longing I understand all too well. You may go."

  The cherub flapped its wings and slowly flew away, my heart twisting in my chest at the sight. I quietly continued my walk, taking in the feelings of the people and machine spirits around me. Most machine spirits were too simple to interact with beyond basic commands, but the ship's primary machine spirit sung a melody of sorrow and longing. I stopped filtering it out and allowed it to wash over me. The tale it told was one of grief, and service to a mission it abhorred. Many taken as prisoner were innocent of crime, yet absconded with all the same on mere suspicion. The tune suddenly ended, and shifted to one of pain and alarm as it fell to distress.

  "We have company."