A/N: Something... different for chapter 60 of A World of Bloody Evolution. :)
Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 60: Dreaming of a Better Age
"To serve the Lord of Change is to be both King and Pawn, for one is always the center of their own game, but never at the center of another's." - [REACTED], a Daemon Prince of Tzeentch.
Travel aboard the Void-Whisper was different than the months Yang spent on the Ascendant Dawn. While she enjoyed spending time shooting the shit and working out with Amat, she missed her Woadian friends. No doubt they missed her too.
If they're not already praying to me.
No, no, no can't think that. They're smarter than that. But still, the thought itched at her. She decided against sharing it with Garnet - she doubted he had anything useful to say about the worshipful tendencies of Imperial citizens.
At least the kasrkin hated her something proper. They made a concerted effort to not speak with her, which suited her just fine. Between training with Garnet, hanging with Amat, and meditating with the memory projector (something she deemed the 'brain box'), she didn't have time to deal with the kasrkin's bullshit.
She'd tried being friendly, but at a certain point, it wasn't worth the effort.
The eighth day aboard the alien vessel began like any other - snorting awake from a half-remembered nightmare, fists clenched hard enough to draw blood. Grunting her dissatisfaction, she watched the nail-bites seal themselves shut.
Could always count on her aura.
Above her on his cargo-crate perch, Amat waited in his Vindicare's trance. Whenever he wasn't with Yang or fiddling in his sketchpad, that was how he spent his time.
Though she had a sneaking suspicion he was making midnight rounds of the Void-Whisper.
Joints popping with displeasure, she stretched and shook the remnants of sleep from her mind. Yang considered messing with Amat, but decided to leave him be for now. Garnet would call for her soon, and she needed to prepare.
Progress on her warp-craft was slow, but she couldn't deny Garnet knew his shit. Admittedly, she was more comfortable learning from him - a xenos - than Weiss. The way he explained things felt… right, somehow.
Closing her eyes and crossing her legs, she began her morning exercise. Something she developed herself with Garnet's assistance. Just like Pyrrha, he'd been a consummate help and powerful friend.
She opened her connection to the warp, making sure Amat could see her. Once more, she dived into the currents of the Empyrean, subsuming herself in the pure, unadulterated chaos. As always, the whispers came. Incessant and demanding, they tempted her and cajoled her. They spoke of seeing Ruby again, of granting her unlimited power, promised armies of worshippers to place under her heel.
just like the woadians
No.
I am above them, she thought, her soul glittering in the endless whorling madness. I am not a slave to myself or my desires. Withdrawing the requisite power -no more than she needed, and no less than was required- she retreated.
Her mind returning to the Void-Whisper, she puckered her lips and blew a small puff of warp-flame into her waiting hands. Born of her soul, she knew it would never burn her, even without her aura.
The whispers receded, but her head ached. Better than yesterday.
She turned the warp flame over in her hands, stretching it into shapes that pleased her. It burbled and burned, glowing in the darkened cargo bay.
"You're learning quite well."
Yang recoiled, bracing herself for attack. The warp flame fizzled and disappeared, the last of its light illuminating Maion's face.
"Terra, you scared the shit out of me," Yang breathed, quiet enough to not wake her compatriots. Maion nodded in apology, her face eerie and perfect.
"We need to speak with you," the eldar said.
"We?" Yang asked.
"It is imperative you come with me," Maion insisted. She crouched and offered Yang her hand, which she accepted.
"Careful," Yang hissed. "No sudden movements."
Maion cocked her head in confusion. Instead of answering, Yang pointed.
An inch behind Maion's head sat the barrel of Amat's exitus pistol. He was still in his placid trance, his eyes unfocused and cloudy.
For the first time since meeting Pyrrha's kids, Yang saw an eldar blanch. She grinned.
"Don't worry," she said, dusting her hands off. "He's not doing it on purpose. You should be fine as long as you don't try attacking anyone."
"Isha, is this what the Imperium does to its subjects?" Maion wondered, stepping back from Yang. The pistol followed her.
"Yeah, it's pretty fucked up, isn't it?" Yang said. "Check this out." Reaching up to her friend's face, she opened his mouth with a squeeze of her hand.
"My name is Amat," she said, imitating her friend's smooth baritone while moving his lips in time. "I'm the best shot in the Imperium, and Emperor I'm just so cool in my sexy pajamas"
"You're not wrong," Amat rumbled.
Yang's hand shot back, a heat rising to her cheeks.
"Ah heh heh... morning buddy," she managed. Amat said nothing, instead packing his pistol back in his holster. "Sorry about that."
"Mhm," he said. "Regret drips from every word."
"Yang, we need to be going," Maion said, looking quite perturbed by the whole display.
"Right." She beckoned at Amat with a hand. "You wanna come with, Amat?"
"Sure," he said, sliding down from his spot. The eldar blinked. Not a part of the plan, apparently.
"Lead on," Yang said, grinning. A flash of hesitation flashed in Maion's eyes before vanishing.
"Very well."
They slipped out of the cargo bay and into the twisting alabaster hallways of the Void-Whisper. Yang yawned, feeling her headache recede. Man, I could really go for more coffee. Why didn't I steal more?
"Is there something wrong?" Amat asked the eldar. Maion didn't answer for a time.
"Yes," she answered. How typically cryptic.
"How bad we talking?" Yang asked.
"You'll know once we get to the bridge," Maion answered.
A silence came over them. Until Amat broke it.
"So, is mocking me while I'm in a trance a common pastime?" He asked, his tone light.
"Oh yes," Yang said, nodding with grave import. "Me and the kasrkin put on shows. You're missing out. Kinda," she added with an impish grin. He looked at her for a time before realizing her sarcastic tone. A smile reached across his face once he did.
"I just hope they were tasteful," he said. "However, judging by the pulp-print that you and the Woadians passed around, I doubt it."
"The bridge," Maion reminded them, pressing her hand to a red stone. An imperceptible door opened wide, exposing the bridge. It was the only place on the entire ship that was comparable to human designs - great monitors spat out line after line of data, each station attended to by eldar in fancy black robes. The place was still made out of wraithbone, but it was at least wrought into a recognizable shape.
Next to the Captain's throne - no chair that fancy could be anything else - stood Lossamdir and Garnet. Miracle of miracles - they were not at each other's throats.
The Captain himself was quite different from the eldar in the war-party - his hair had been cropped close to his scalp, and he dressed in nebulous regal finery, his robes shimmering with cosmic brilliance.
"Hey guys," Yang said. Garnet nodded a polite welcome, but Lossamdir said nothing. "Just put another one on the brain box," she continued, holding up the projector. "Emerald Forest during initiation. First time me and Blake worked together."
"I cannot wait to see it myself," Garnet allowed. "But currently, a situation has developed."
His voice lacked its usual levity, and it sobered Yang immediately.
"Shit man," she replied. "What's up?"
"We entered the webway some time ago, but until now, we have continued unobstructed," he said. "We must pass through a certain corridor, but forces of the Arch-foe impede us."
At his words, the blast shields on the bridge windows retreated, revealing the webway to Yang for the first time.
Walls of golden light enveloped everything, warm and pulsing with unspeaking power. Within them floated broken wraithbone spires and ancient scaffolding, the pieces so numerous and intertwined they were impossible to count. Remnants of a glory age long since passed.
It sucked her breath away. Even Amat swallowed.
"The Ail-Ithalya Shipyards," Garnet said. "A legacy from a time before Il-Kaithe. It has laid dead and broken for many, many years."
"Mariner Eldritha, bring up the scan, please," the Captain said.
"Captain Ellamár," the woman said. She pressed a button on her expansive console, and an image appeared in the bridge window, shattering the spell.
Blinking, Yang rubbed at her eyes. In the middle of a yawning aperture in the Webway's glittering walls sat two ships, dripping with hate. Each was a blue-gold sliver of the arch-foe, etched with horrid symbols and covered in malicious spiked protrusions. Yang averted her gaze, feeling her hackles stand on end.
"Two patrol frigates," the Captain said. "Each of them belonging to Azrek Ahriman." Though he spoke the name with dripping contempt, the name sent a shudder crawling through Yang. Even Amat's lip curled at the Captain's words.
"Who's Ahriman?" Yang asked. "Judging by the ships, he's someone who needs a boot up his ass STAT."
"You're not wrong Yang," Amat said, "but he's far more than that. He is one of the first traitor astartes, and the most powerful sorcerer that serves the Dark Gods."
"It is slightly more complicated than that," Lossamdir sneered. Yang bit down an angry retort when she realized his attitude had nothing to do with Amat's explanation.
"Ahriman serves no one but himself," Lossamdir continued. "He's been seeking the Black Library for ten thousand years, filling the webway with eldar dead."
"Fuck man," Yang said. "He's not like... on one of those ships, is he?"
"No," Garnet said. "You would know if he was. Praise Isha's bones that he is nowhere near us."
The rank fear in his voice unnerved her. So far, the Eldar had never failed to wave their arrogant cocks around over how much better they were than humans. Even Pyrrha's kids couldn't restrain themselves from partaking. But now, Garnet sounded like he was about to shit his pants at the prospect of seeing this… Ahriman person.
"He's been accumulating power for millennia," Lossamdir said. "Enough to threaten the Harlequins, the guardians of the Black Library. Even now, his arrogance is unprecedented... to send patrols about the Webway as if he owns it himself."
"Well it's just two ships," Yang said. "They're smaller than us. Let's fuck 'em up and bug out before they can tell Ahriman."
The Captain sighed. "It is not that simple," he said. "Our ships are not always brutish dealers of death and destruction like those in the Imperial Navy. The Void-Whisper is exactly what its name implies - a ship that runs fast and quiet. It is built for infiltration."
"Don't tell me this thing doesn't have weapons," Yang said, aghast.
"We do," the Captain said. "Enough to take down one frigate. Not two."
"Have they spotted us yet?" Amat asked.
"The Void-Whisper is an Infiltration ship," Lossamdir reminded him. "We are hidden from them. For now."
"And what do you want me to do about this?" Yang asked Maion. "Ship stuff isn't exactly my specialty."
"We have a plan for defeating them," Lossamdir said.
"Obsidian thought of it himself," Garnet said, a hint of warmth returning.
"That fool had nothing to do with it," Lossamdir snapped. "Do not test the patience of a thousand souls by insinuating a dangerous malcontent controls their whims."
Garnet shrugged, a delightfully human gesture. Yang couldn't help but grin at her tutor's flippancy. "Tell our human allies your plan then, Lossamdir."
"We will board one of their ships and disable it," the exarch said. "An… overturning of established naval doctrine, but the only option available to us."
The Captain grunted his assent. Clearly he had reservations.
"Well, I'm down for it," Yang said. "But are you sure we can't just sneak past them? You said this was an infiltration ship."
"They are directly in front of the corridor," Garnet said. "Even if we could survive passing between them, they would hound us all the way to the Black Library. Or worse - report us to their Master." He sighed. "I don't know which would be worse - allowing Josephus to seize the Chariot or leading Ahriman to the Black Library."
"Given that Warlock Garnet has insisted this is the only path forward," Lossamdir said with a sideways glance at his former brother, "our options are extremely limited."
"There is no other way," Garnet replied. "My soul sings the truth of it."
"So why am I here?" Yang asked. "Want me to break the news to the kasrkin?"
"Not quite," Maion said.
"The kasrkin have proven difficult to work with," Lossamdir answered, "as mon'keigh often are."
"'Like herding cats', as Grandmother used to say," Maion added. Yang giggled.
"Sounds about right. They're not my biggest fans."
"You're here because you are joining the war-party on the boarding mission, and the kasrkin will remain behind."
"I go where she does," Amat said, a simple fact.
The assorted eldar exchanged a flurry of looks before nodding their assent.
"Understandable," Maion said. "You are welcome to join us. It is imperative that this mission go smoothly, and any obstructions could mean our deaths."
"I understand," Yang said. She forced herself to look at the ships again, study their rune-coated hulls. Her shoulder smoldered, and a few of the eldar recoiled at the faint glow of her glyphs.
"Which one are we boarding?" She asked. They wore different paint jobs and had different kinds of heresy scrawled on them, but they otherwise identical.
"The one on the right," the Captain answered. "They are both fairly small ships, and their crew cannot number more than five thousand. As they are part of Ahriman's fleet, it is likely there are far fewer. It is assured there are countless rubrics and spells that automate most of the ships' functions."
"So what do we do once we're aboard?" Yang asked with a wide grin. She already had a good idea of what was to come.
"Hack their systems to pieces," Maion answered. "Disable their weapons and engines, leave them as easy prey."
"Fighting one ship at a time is well within my capabilities," the Captain said. "And eliminating half of their firepower drastically increases our survivability."
Yang fist met her palm. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go kick their asses."
Maion cracked a small smile. "I told you she would be on board."
"It was never in doubt," Garnet replied.
"I shall ready the war-party," Lossamdir said. "Khaine grant us strength and Isha protect us all."
Yang slapped a fresh battery into her lasgun, savoring the hum of readiness. She engaged the safety and handed to Amat, passing it over Chera's head.
"Now, it's nothing like the Sister's gear," the Lieutenant said, "but it'll keep you safe in a vacuum. For a little bit at least." With a grunt, she buckled the cuirass onto Yang. "Apparently there's oxygen out there, but you shouldn't take chances. Activate your mag boots."
Yang obeyed, tapping a rune on the interior of her armored wrist, just above Ember Celica. Her new boots hissed and locked themselves to the floor.
"Those will keep you locked onto any ship surface you want," Chera explained. "You got that?"
"Yeah," Yang said. "Thanks for this by the way. Really appreciate it."
Chera handed Yang a helmet.
She stared into the hazel-tinted visor at her distorted reflection. The kasrkin hadn't been pleased with their reduced role in the upcoming operation, and it was only at Amat's insistence that she be allowed a spare suit of Carapace armor. It was some well made stuff, certainly better than flak armor. Heavier too. Yang rolled her shoulders. Still too bulky by her standards. Still too restrictive and suffocating, but she wasn't about to tell the Lieutenant that.
"Ge that hair of yours under control and test the seals."
Yang bristled, but obeyed. Her hair was a touchy subject. Binding her hair into a rough bun with the help of a few scrunchies, she took the helmet and locked it into place. Hisses issued forth from the seals, and a simple HUD scrawled across the visor.
Not horrible. Not what she preferred, but it would serve. Chera rapped her fist on the side of the helmet.
"You're ready up, Sergeant," she said.
"Good to hear," Yang replied. Making a fist, she watched the interlocking black plates fit over each other. If it weren't for Ember Celica, they'd make for passable bracers.
"Janos has something for you," Chera said, nodding the kasrkin over.
"Oh?" Yang asked.
"My melta," Janos mumbled, refusing to make eye contact. "Captain Darron said to hand it over in case you guys run out of explosives over there. I know we're supposed to stay aboard in case they try and board us in return, and I don't think the eldar'll appreciate what this thing will do to their hull."
Yang accepted it, eyes glowing hungrily. Meltas were, in her educated opinion, fucking awesome. What's not to like about a gun that shoots nuclear meltdowns? She'd never had a chance to fire one either. When she took it in her hands however, something came over her. This weapon was Janos' life. He'd been carrying this thing for decades, if not longer. Judging by their rarity, he was one of the few thousand lucky enough to even hold one.
It wasn't a bauble to use for her amusement. Sure it could probably fuck up the Son's ship something fierce, but explosives weren't always necessary to do damage.
Honestly, what could a melta do that I couldn't do with my sword or my hands? She handed it back to him.
"Too heavy for me," she said with a smile. "Keep it."
"If you say so, Sarge," Janos said, happily accepting his weapon back.
Amat hopped down from his perch, landing noiselessly. His exitus rifle was slung across his back, ready to kill. Yang tossed him his lasgun, which he caught without effort.
"Wise," he said. "Ammo?"
"Right here," Yang said, kicking at her rucksack. Her bandolier and batteries were within, folded up nice and neat. Retrieving them, she gestured for Amat to turn around. "Lemme buckle you up," she said.
He nodded, accepting her help. After adjusting the piece of canvas to fit on his frame, he handed her the buckle, which she snapped into place.
"And what will you use?"
Yang grinned. "Ember Celica, of course." Her gauntlets fit over the Carapace armor, thank Terra. They expanded into their full form, hissing and clacking into their full glory. With the two bandoliers of shells across her chest, Yang wouldn't be starved for ammo.
Maion stepped into the cargo bay, her face placid and calm, devoid of all expression.
"It is time to begin."
Magos Hagai awoke from his trance, drawn from the infinite glory of the Empyrean by the shrill caw of his war-bird. Gorrag crowed once more, her adamantium-tipped beak parting to reveal a barbed tongue. The Magos blinked, acclimating himself with realspace once more.
His mind had flown far, seen much - and something was amiss.
The dogged flares that had chased him across the Segmentum were flickering. Of the two, the brighter one had vanished from sight. Yang, the machine-spirits burbled, voices dripping with warp-tainted power. Perhaps the indomitable warrior woman had finally met her demise.
The Lady Inquisitor's soul, however... it flickered and wavered like a torch in a downpour. Why did she struggle so? The blessed touch of the warp had been stiffly rebuffed each time it caressed her, and it did not assail her now.
Before him, his scrying mirror was devoid of answers. It simply sat, once more a screen of polished silver.
His eyes met his reflection, two orbs of pure and piercing blue. He grinned, watching his face contort and bend to his will. A most excellent acquisition. It was supple and strong, handsome by mortal standards. It served its purpose - a magnet for attention and adoration by the benighted masses.
Around him, his chambers continued their purring. Miles of cables snaked around great machines, each one bearing the improvements of the Lord of Change. Tendons and tattooed skin-films coated the Magos' works granting them the power of their ultimate Master. Some bore massive pistons, oiled red and working perfectly.
Gorrag cawed, demanding attention from her master.
"Hush now," Magos Hagai cooed, striding over to his war bird. Gorrag watched him closely with the eyes he had built for her. They clicked and whirred, masterpieces of design that fused the teachings of the Mechanicus with the Lord's eldritch power.
He reached up to stroke her neck, combing his metal fingers through shining black feathers. Soon, she would be large enough to receive the remainder of her gifts. Large enough to ride.
"Shhh," Magos Hagai hushed, calming his treasure. "What troubles you so?"
Gorrag did not tell him. Despite the countless gifts he lavished upon her, the augmentations and mechanical blessings... she was still only a bird.
"Caw!" Gorrag screeched.
Magos Hagai frowned. "How long have I been entranced?" He asked.
"It won't tell you," a voice rumbled. Xhora, his assistant. The daemon poured over a pile of tomes, its seven arms juggling books at notepads. Today, the creature had donned yet another appearance - a manlike shift, with a serpentine neck connected to a face with three eyes and a vertical mouth.
"Then answer me, daemon," Magos Hagai replied.
"Some matter of days Lord," Xhora said, disinterest dripping from every word.
"Did you do as I commanded you?" Magos Hagai demanded. Too long had Xhora been a thorn in his side, a constant needling ache that refused to act according to his whims. The daemon had been summoned for an express purpose, one that he performed with undisguised lethargy.
"I am still at the task you commanded me to perform," Xhora said disdainfully.
"Not that," Magos Hagai said. "Did you feed Gorrag?"
"I did not," Xhora said. "It slipped my mind," he added, every word indicating that it never left his thoughts.
Magos Hagai filled his steel hand with the daemon's serpentine neck and pulled. Its head came loose in an instant, parting from its neck in a shower of multicolored blood and rancid meat. Its mouth open and closed, confusion wrought plain in his blue-black eyes.
The daemon melted away into nothing, banished back to the Empyrean. Next time, Magos Hagai resolved, he would build a proper servitor, or find one of his most capable followers to be his assistant. They were often soft and weak-minded, unable to properly parse the tomes he requested without being given over to chaos, but they were better than daemons.
An unpredictable and troublesome lot, daemons were.
But for now, he could do without an assistant. The Promised Time was at hand. The Lord of Change had granted him the knowledge he'd sought so desperately, and soon, so soon, the Chariot would be his. Soon, his armada would drop out of the warp, and his purpose, his glory would be realized. Millennia spent in service to the Dark Gods had been properly rewarded.
With the Chariot of Salvation, he could usher in a new age of Technology. Mars would bend to his will, and the stars would surrender their relics one by one. The Imperium would crumble, the Interlopers would come to serve him, and Abaddon… Abaddon would burn.
Gorrag cawed, no doubt desperately hungry.
"Yes yes, my sweet," Magos Hagai said. "Have patience. Patience is a powerful virtue."
A/N: Holy crap you guys, already on Chapter 60? Time certainly flies! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, but there's a few things you should be aware of:
#1 - Meltaguns don't actually shoot nuclear meltdowns, but Yang doesn't know enough about the nitty-gritty details of Imperial tech to care about the difference.
#2 - I am rather untested at writing Chaos-aligned characters, so if I fucked something up, please let me know.
#3 - I can't really lock down what the Webway looks like from within, so we're just going to go with something appropriately eldar-y. If anyone has a better source for how it looks, I'd appreciate being pointed in the right direction. For now though, it'll stay as is.
#4 - Thanks for all the reviews last time, guys! From my end, a lack of reviews makes it look like people aren't reading the story, so I was a bit concerned (even if I knew that wasn't the case). I totally understand that you can't drop reviews all the time though, so I appreciate the flood of responses I got.
Next time, Yang returns to her favorite past time.
KICKING ASS!