Minya couldn't help secretly smiling to herself where she sat perched high in the control spire at the main craftworld spaceport. Everything from aliens traders to giant winged Eldar warships lay sprawled in front of her. She was supposed to monitor the status of all the docked ship resting anchor at the giant flying world but she found that she just couldn't. Instead, her hand constantly circled her slightly bulging stomach, a stupid grin on her face. Who would have ever thought she would herself in this situation?
And she wasn't the only one. The craftworld's maternity wards, which were almost entirely theoretical institutions in this day and age, were now swamped with bewildered and nauseous supposedly infertile Eldar maidens. Minya remembered the day when she had sat in a long waiting line, staring at the datapad with her diagnosis in disbelief. Pregnant.
If it hadn't been for the older Eldar woman clad in exodite clothing she had met at the clinic Minya didn't know how she would have made it through that day. The woman had a huge swelling belly that Minya couldn't stop staring at in terror. But rather than being insulted the older woman had gently talked her down, letting Minya vent her fears and raging hormones alongside someone in the same situation. The exodite had talked about when she herself became pregnant and all the things she had experienced since then. Even if Minya didn't believe half of what the exodite had told her she slowly realized that pregnancy was not as scary as she first thought. After being allowed to feel the older woman's triplets kicking with her own hand having children suddenly seemed like something natural and not such a big deal. So stupid, Minya mused. Of course it was natural. How else was anyone supposed to come into this world?
Yet only months ago these thoughts and feelings would have been unimaginable. From the outside, nothing had really changed in her life. She followed the same path as she had these last few years, met the same people, spent her free time in much the same way. It seemed unbelievable that the shy and withdrawn Minya from back then now sat here with a new life growing within her.
But deep down Minya knew exactly what had caused the drastic change. Just like everyone on the craftworld knew even if no one dared to speak it out loud. For they all felt it, every second of every day. The everpresent pull of the great enemy had lost some of its terrible strength. That constant drain on life and soul which syphoned away even the slightest glimmer of light and happiness from every living Eldar was ever so slightly weaker. Something out there had started to stubbornly push back, standing like a wave breaker between the few remaining Eldar and the tidal wave of corruption spewing out from the Eye of Terror. The change was minuscule yet it made an indescribable difference.
One day Minya had woken up and felt like she could breathe again. As if she had lived her life until that morning constantly hunched over, trying to shield herself from a constant hailstorm of misery pelting down from above that always threatened to rip her apart. Never being able to look up she had just kind of stumbled forward in life, numb and constantly beaten to the ground. Now all the sudden she could straighten her back and raise her eyes towards the horizon. The storm that was the great enemy was still there, raging all around her, she was still fighting her way through it using all of her strength. But that was just it, now she was fighting it, not simply surviving it. That was the difference. The difference between huddling in terror under a rock and purposefully defying the storm, striding purposefully step by step straight into the winds.
And somewhere along the road those little hopes and dreams that every Eldar maiden carried buried deep in her heart, those little things that were usually drained away and snuffed out just by existing in the same galaxy as the great enemy had somehow been allowed to nest and grow. It had started small, like humming a song when feeling happy, daring to cry when feeling sad, standing her ground when she knew she was right.
Then had come the smiles, the jokes, the laughs. And finally the feeling of another touching her skin. A hug from a friend when she needed it the most. A glance held slightly too long. A timeless moment of lost breath that shouldn't have been possible. And finally, in the warm darkness, the sound of the fabric of her best dress ripping as eager hands tore it off her trembling body. Minya smiled mischievously to herself, hand still caressing her stomach. That dress had sure served its purpose, dying a warrior's death for a noble cause.
An alarm blared red in front of Minya, catapulting her from her increasingly dirty daydream back to reality. One of the new prototype battleships docked for maintenance was powering up. Glittering like droplets of water running off a rock after a rainstorm energy was trickling through the giant solar sails, lights coming to life all over the slender hull. Minya quickly checked her console with a mental command. That battleship was definitely not scheduled for launch, the entire crew was on leave and the backup crew should be sleeping at this hour.
"This is craftworld docking control to the void stalker Stablemaster's Pet. Why are you powering up your engines while docked? I see no engine tests scheduled for today."
A series of confused whispers came back over the voice comm.
"Who was that?" A deep powerful voice tried to whisper on the other end.
"Must be docking control. Shit. I thought I spiked their food with enough aphrodisiac to keep them all in a state of sweaty bliss for much longer. What should we do?" Another voice, this one female, hushed back.
"Stall them! I need time to angle the sails."
"What do I tell them?"
"Just say anything!"
"Euhm...hi, craftworld dock control! This is the Stablemaster's Pet. We are just fine over here. How... how are you?"
"Stablemaster's Pet you're not, I repeat not, authorized for engine ignition. Power down the ship immediately."
"Oh that, don't worry about it. It's just a small glitch."
"Stablemaster's Pet please stand by, I am sending an engineering team right now."
"Negative! Ehhh... Reactor leak! Large leak, very large, very dangerous. Give us some time to lock it down."
"The ship is solar powered," noted the other deep voice dryly.
"I know dummy. I just always wanted to say that," responded the female voice.
"Who is this?" demanded Minya.
"This is high farseer Imisha. Or well, former farseer Imisha. I'm here with my hunky half-naked exodite breeding stallion."
"Imisha!"
"Sorry sorry, my hunky half-naked exodite husband Davar. Better?"
"It might have been better not to tell them who we are," sighed the deeper voice in resignation.
"You said to say anything! Anyway relax, there is no path from here on out where we don't leave on this ship." The female voice giggled loudly.
"Woman, I swear you could test the patience of the gods sometimes."
"The gods are way worse than I am and you know it. I'm stalling ain't I? Stop whinging and get us going! If you can ride a dragon surely you can ride this thing."
Minya had heard enough.
"Stablemaster's Pet please be advised that you are going to be boarded. I'm sending in a guardian squad."
But just as Minya reached the central alarm to call up the craftworld security forces a soft hand fell upon her shoulder. Standing behind her, reaching almost up to the ceiling was a tall stunning woman clad from top to toe in a tight-fitting scarlet robe. Under a flow of waist long copper hair, two piercing green eyes twinkled down on Minya.
"Farseer!" Minya breathed. The breathtakingly beautiful Ikaria unofficially led the craftworld after the turbulent crisis where the previous council had all been disabled by some kind of strange virus. Though young, she had proved a very capable leader and quickly gained the love and support of the majority of the craftworld. Under her guidance, the craftworld had greatly increased trade and alliances with the neighbouring exodites and humans settlers. Rumours had it she didn't play fair in negotiations, her counterparts not knowing what to fear the most; her sharp tongue, her devious smile, her low cut dresses or her ever present famous blade breaking five feet witchblade.
"Please, I'm just a warlock in training. Call me Ika." smiled Ikaria back.
"I wanted to come down and congratulate you personally." Ikaria's eyes flashed down towards the slight bulge on Minya's stomach, meanwhile raising her eyebrows meaningfully.
"I..." Minya's eyes flickered between the warlock and the battleship. The solar sails caught the sun and erupted in a display of brilliant light.
"Ah, that. I see you can't be distracted." Ikaria sighed. "I had hoped she would be more subtle but somehow I suspect this is the way she wanted it." The warlock stepped past Minya, muted the alarm on her console and spoke directly in the comm.
"This is craftworld control to Stablemaster's Pet. You're clear for launch. Our hopes go with you, Imisha." With a couple of deft flicks of her hand, Ikaria released the docking clamps holding the Stablemaster's Pet in place.
"Ika is that you?!" crackled the voice comm. The voice on the other side seemed to almost bubble with joy at the sound of Ikaria's voice.
"It's me, old friend. Hi Davar."
"Hail warlock Ikaria. Once more you come to our rescue. Our debt to you grows ever larger," answered the deep voice in thanks. The female voice on the other end of the line agreed.
"I knew you would come though Ika. I'm so happy to hear your voice again. Our time together was too short."
Ikaria opened her mouth as if to speak but no words came out. Instead she swallowed hard, clenching her jaw.
"It will all be alright my friend. Remember what I taught you and trust in yourself like I do. I have to go. Time is running out. All life is sacred."
"All life is sacred." Ikaria's response was thick with emotion.
As the two of them watched the void stalker glide out from the dock Ikaria reached her hand forward towards to the departing battleship. It looked half like a salute, half like she was reaching to pull the ship back, struggling to let it go.
"Is everything ok, far...warlock? Should I call them back?" Minya asked carefully.
"No. No. Let them go." Ikaria shook her head, eyes not letting go off the ship as it sped away into the night.
"I just have a horrible feeling that I will never see her again."