Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended.
1: Skyfall
The golden youth furrowed his brow. Something was wrong.
His escorts stood to either side, confident and unworried. Beyond them, he knew there was a security cordon making its way through the promenade. And high above, in the blackness of space, a pair of cruise titans drifted like calm and apocalyptic stars, their planet-wrecking arsenal inactive, their mechanical intellects content to watch and assure his safety.
He thought it was a bit disproportionate, but he knew it made the adults feel happier if he was safe. Some were afraid of bad, ambitious people trying to use him. Others were simply afraid for his own sake.
But something was still amiss.
"Can I have an icecream?" he asked.
The escort to his left looked down. He was taller than most humans, golden-skinned and ink-haired, with broad cheekbones and eyes like augers. He wore a black military singlet and a short-sleeved white longcoat with long tails, gathered in at the waist. Something in his muscular bearing spoke of an absolute self-confidence. This man would die before even considering surrender.
"That is a great idea! Can we have an icecream, Lance?"
The third member of the trio stifled a sigh. He had a lot of practice at this. Of lesser height, he nevertheless possessed a raw-boned soldier's physique and ever-ranging eye. His hair was copper and held in braids; he wore a sleek black bodysuit and an identical white longcoat.
"No, Atlas. Stop giving Vivo ideas. Seriously, did either of you two knuckleheads even consult your Intelligence?"
"I did," said the golden youth earnestly. "I think something's wrong. Tell them, Sacred Heart."
"Yes sir," said the ball floating by his side. "I am unable to tap the local nutritional teleportarium. I am not certain there is any icecream, or any food at all. This is entirely outside my experience and warrants urgent investigation."
Lance sighed again and went down on one knee. "Vivo, Sacred Heart, you both have a lot to learn about the galaxy. You were born in celestial space, where the Warp is at its calmest and the Star Gods reign in person. Do you know what infrastructure is?"
Vivo concentrated. "Is it the way people work together to make sure everybody has what they need?"
Lance smiled. Every time he met the child he was surprised by some new wisdom. "Very good. Work together, yes. Well, in celestial space, we can run our infrastructure through free-form psitek because it's safe. We use teleporters and networked thought-forms powered by mass consensus. At home, if you want an icecream, you think about it and the infrastructure advises you if you need it, and if you really need one it forms it out of nutrient streams teleported through the Warp.
"But we're going on holiday to Enjyat in the Grelm systems. Your papa Gar helped clean up this place a few years ago, remember? Now, what do you suppose that means for the infrastructure?"
Vivo screwed up his face in a look of utmost focus. "If we came out of celestial space, that means we're in the Contested Warp, the Galactic Community. The teachings in school said that it was still mostly stable, but that you had to be extra careful, because there are still wild daemons out there – out here. And that means," he took a breath, "using the Immaterium for infrastructure would be unsafe, and I might get something a lot more dangerous than just icecream."
"Good boy," said Lance, unable to resist the urge to ruffle the lad's hair.
"So does that mean no icecream?" said Atlas.
Lance stood up. "Honestly, you are incorrigible."
"It's my metabolism. I get hungry fast."
"Then I guess Mach has already picked out the nearest confection trader."
Atlas patted the blue gem at his throat with satisfaction. "He says there are seven within the spaceport and has identified multiple routes toward the potential objectives, using combinations of pedestrian and augmented transit. It is feasible to have icecream within forty-five seconds of mission commencement."
"You are frighteningly single-minded sometimes."
"But I'm hungry!"
"You're taking Vivo's side, that's what you are. Well it won't work because he loves me best, don't you, squirt?"
Vivo looked seriously at the two men. "You're both great friends for grown-ups, but I think you love each other more than me."
Lance opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Atlas took the opportunity to grab him in a bear hug. "It's true, old buddy. It's been too long since the old unit broke up."
"All right, all right, keep your hands to yourself. Company."
Atlas was suddenly and casually in front of Vivo. Twenty steps away, a pair of nondescript bystanders were equally casually standing between the group and an approaching entourage.
Two of the people approaching were either xenos or profoundly posthuman. They moved on four long, bladed legs, body low in the centre concealed in crimson wrappings. Multiple eyes glittered beneath runic hoods. A nest of chitinous hands clasped and stretched below the body. The deadly major limbs were tipped in yellow-striped hazard seals.
The third person was clearly in charge. His gesture stopped the hulking creatures in an instant as he surveyed the travellers. He too wore crimson robes in an unfamiliar and voluminous cut. Glittering runes flickered across the cloth surface. His shoulders were decorated with ropes of gold and black iron. An eight-pointed star was tattooed sanguine on his shaven head; the rings on his fingers were uncomfortable to look upon, and he held a cane which turned many unique angles along its length. His eyes seemed lazy, but always met an onlooker's glance for an instant.
"Well, well," he said. His voice was practised and easily audible at a distance. "Such a coincidence, that I should be out walking and encounter such a personage. Do I have the honour of addressing one Vivo Urban, bearer of Sacred Heart?"
Vivo looked at Lance, who in turn was looking in all directions but at the newcomer.
"You don't have to answer," he said quietly.
"Ah, but I am forgetting my manners," said the newcomer brightly. "I am Expositor Niva, Imperial Archaeological Compliance Oversight, 73rd Detached Coordination Department. It is a pleasure to meet someone of such standing."
"Pleased to meet you," said Vivo, reasoning that this was not giving anything away.
Niva laughed. "And well mannered, too! A pleasure indeed, indeed." He turned his head a fraction of an inch. "Gentle greetings to your guardians. Do I address Strike Magus Atlas Solomon bearing the esteemed Mach Caliber?"
Atlas didn't move. "You're behind the times, Expositor. I'm a civilian Search and Rescue specialist now. Got nothing to do with military rank."
"Yes, of course you don't, of course. Which must mean you are in the company of, ah, Investigator Lance Maxim (detached service) and your devious companion device Cross Mirage, currently on annual leave from the Commonwealth Internal Affairs department of something no doubt highly significant. Tell me, Investigator, how did you come by such an astonishingly suitable name? It always struck me that such nomenclature would destine one for a life fighting crime, whether you wished it or no."
"You must have an excellent news service," said Lance tightly.
"Oh, we make do, we make do. There are so many people running around in this galaxy, we sometimes have to write it down to keep it all straight."
"You would need a lot of pages," said Vivo. "My teachings say that there are over two hundred and seventy thousand travellers per spaceport per day on average. And there are a lot of spaceports on every planet, and I'm certain there are a lot more planets-"
Niva laughed again. "The boy is genuinely delightful," he said. "Our news service does keep us up to date, but sometimes one finds new truths when one takes the time to look with one's own eyes. I should have expected no less from that auspicious genome. Lad, you are a treasure. I am inclined to indulge you before I continue on my stroll – ask a question of me and I shall answer it truthfully."
"As if we'd trust anything you told us," said Lance, at the same time that Vivo said,
"What's an Expositor?"
Lance gave the strong impression of rolling his eyes.
Niva stroked his chin. "You know, that is an excellent question. Most of my job is, shall we say, implicit. But I suppose it boils down to three main duties.
"First, I find and report on truths, some of which are more obstinate in their revelation than others.
"Second, when reality and truth do not agree, I work to make the truth more apparent, for this is often necessary in the functioning of our society.
"And third, when the Imperium suffers unjustly, I bring the gift of resolution to its enemies. But you mustn't tell anyone, because it's supposed to be a secret."
"I'm not sure you're doing very well at keeping that secret," said Vivo.
"You see? An absolute treasure," said Niva, and took a step back from the security cordon. "I am so glad we had this little chat. Such a fortunate encounter."
He strolled away, cane clicking on the marble of the promenade. The blade-limbed escorts swivelled smoothly and followed after a moment. A security officer summoned a casting screen and started talking urgently into it.
"What was that?" hissed Lance the moment the party was out of sight. "What's a Chaos Expositor doing on Enjyat?"
"Hold on." Atlas listened to an internal voice. "Our local guide is incoming, on a priority route off the main pedestrian speedway. She says it's not as bad as it sounds. We'll debrief when we're in a more secure space."
"Good, I want to get out of here as soon as possible. And Vivo-"
"I didn't trust him, not at all," said the boy. "What's an Expositor, really?"
Lance grimaced. "It's more or less what he said. But you've got to be careful, because he's an expert at twisting things around. He talked a lot about the truth, but he doesn't really care about that.
"When the Imperium sends an Expositor to find an answer, they'll do anything to get it. They don't care if they... hurt people along the way so long as they get that answer. And sometimes the Imperium wants an answer that isn't true, and they have to hurt people until they start telling the right lies. And everybody knows it. The Imperium claims that fear will bring obedience.
"That's what he wanted to do right now: scare us. Even when he was telling the truth, he wasn't telling it plain, pretending he hadn't spent hours reading up on our files before we arrived. He knows we know, but he doesn't care. Above all else, his job is to lie."