Chapter 2 - A New Mission

A/N - To differentiate between talking in your head to someone and talking out loud, will use different markers.

"speech" | *mental speech/thoughts*

For the Craftworld!

With a soft hum, a jetbike powered down and settled onto the floor of the hangar. After a moment, the driver slowly dismounted, and pulled his helmet off, letting his mid back length black hair out. The driver, clearly male from his visage, took a moment to carefully rebind his hair into a single, elegant but simple braid, before beginning to work on his jetbike. It was an older model, having been found in the corner of a hangar, abandoned for who knew how long, even by his people's standards, and while it wasn't as fast or maneuverable as the newest ones, it was good enough for him. That it carried heavier than normal firepower was the main reason he kept it, and the extra armor didn't hurt.

He smirked to himself at that thought, before finishing the last check of the bike, and putting his helmet back on. With his helm on, he was just another eldar warrior in service of the Craftworld. With the helm off, however, he was the Fool. The Fickle Chance-Dancer. A Pathless One. But he preferred his real name, Arlas.

Despite the urgency of the command to return to the Craftworld, he had still taken nearly a standard month to get back to the webway gate in the bowels of the forge world, on the other side of the planet. Security had been tightened considerably after the explosion, and the Imperial Guard had been called in to assist with containing the massive riots that had been sparked by the explosion, and the Chaos cults that would have toppled the world came out of hiding early. Now they would fail, and the forge world would continue to produce things for the Imperium, but not titans.. He had been the last eldar ranger on the planet when he had finally made it to the concealed webway gate, and had allowed himself a sigh of relief as he had piloted his bike into the briefly glowing portal embedded in it.

Now, he was just another eldar warrior, though the massive rifle on his back and the cameleoline cloak he wore marked him as an Outcast. But he was back home, and could relax, and enjoy the gentle psychic singing of the Infinity Circuit throughout the ship, the graceful movements of his kin, and the soft sounds of the Craftworld. Not at all like the barbaric, loud, brutish human worlds. But even those were infinitely better than the unbearable Orks worlds, or the completely dead Necron worlds.

Arlas paused in the largest of the growing habitats, admiring the elegant, orderly rows of plants, before resuming his trek to the Infinity Circuit. He had to deliver the other half of his mission, nearly a dozen spirit stones stolen from the mon-keigh archmagos' home. He had then gone on to cause the explosion of the titan factory to prevent the building of titans there, which would eventually be used to break one of the other craftworlds' hosts. Now, all he had to do was hand over the eleven reclaimed spirit stones to one of the Farseers, before getting to visit the armory to replace his stock of explosives and heading out on his next mission.

So it was with some surprise that he entered the Infinity Circuit chamber, and spotted the full Inner Council waiting for him. The five senior Farseers, both supreme commanders, and all ten senior exarchs. Equally surprising was the fact that the chamber had been cleared, as near as he could tell, of all personnel not in the Inner Council. He allowed himself a brief pause, before approaching the Farseers, as was customary. He stopped in front of the eldest Farseer, and bowed to her.

"I return from my wandering among primitives, stars, and darkness, to once again take my place amongst my kin. I have recovered some of those thought lost, and return them to our ancestors, to ever offer advice and counsel to those that still fight."

Despite him following the ceremony, he was a bit disturbed by the fact the Farseer didn't respond, she simply held out her hand for the soulstones. He offered the small pouch containing the dozen stones, before stepping back. The Farseers formed a half circle, no doubt discussing the stones psychically, and the two supreme commanders moved away from the seers and each other, taking their own council of five exarchs each with them. Suddenly extremely conscious of the fact that he was the only one in the room not in a group of five, Arlas simply waited, hoping to be dismissed.

Sadly, he was not, though after a few hours of waiting, the only male Farseer, and one of only three men in the room counting Arlas, plucked a stone from the bag. The male Farseer then gestured for Arlas to follow him, as they moved to one side. They moved to a small garden inside the Infinity Circuit chamber, overlooking one of the large growths that made it up.

After a short while, merely a quarter of an hour, of contemplating the gem in his hands and the Infinity Circuit, the Farseer spoke. "We have a new mission for you, one that will possibly take far longer, and likely far, far further, than we have ever sent you before."

The Farseer paused, as if trying to gather his thoughts or decide how to explain, but Farseers did not need that. Arlas knew that as a fact, they were lost on the Path of the Seer, and knew in their very soul, how to best serve the Craftworld. After a moment, the Farseer resumed speaking. "You will be equipped with the best we have. Armor, weapons, a transport and ship, all will be grown, crafted and provided to suit you and your mission."

Another pause, and Arlas was slowly coming to realization that the impossible was happening, that the Farseer could not see the way to guide him to where the Craftworld required. So he did what he could to assist. "What is my mission, honored Farseer? I live to serve the Craftworld."

That statement seemed to be what the Farseer was waiting for, his shoulders straightening slightly and his head turning to the pathfinder. "Your mission is to scout the path through the Webway Gate Elisphan, on the Edge of the Eye of Terror. If possible, go through the web path, and scout what lies beyond. The Craftworld and its fleet will follow you through, regardless of whether you report back or not. Be thorough in your inspection of the webway, and be sure to report everything. The Craftworld will be helpless in the webway, but our only other choice is to let our Craftworld, our home, die."

Arlas simply blinked at the sudden severity of his mission, but the resources they mentioned implied he was going to be doing this regardless. "What about my squad? I can think of a couple rangers, maybe even a Harlequin that might be willing to come with me. And if I am going to have a ship and a transport, I am going to need a pilot, maybe even two for the different vessels."

Arlas really hoped that the Harlequin would be busy, she was the most quiet, stealthy person he had ever met, and also one of the damn few people that scared him just from being in their presence. So he had mixed feelings as the Farseer replied. "No, you will be heading out alone. The runes were clear, more than you and the spirit stone pilot, and you fail. You will deploy after ensuring your equipment and training are still acceptable. If not sooner."

The Farseer did turn and offer the soulstone. "This contains your pilot and wraithbone singer. She can provide guidance on maintaining and caring for the wraithbone vehicles you will be using."

Arlas stared at the gemstone for a moment, fully understanding what was not being said. If something went wrong, there would be two eldar souls lost, not just his own. So his usual antics wouldn't be quite so acceptable on the field. He had few problems taking a more… lackadaisical approach than most of his kin, but only when his own life was on the line. But after a moment, he carefully accepted the stone, and slotted it into the spare spirit gem slot on his armor.

The sensation of feeling another mind was difficult to describe, especially one that suddenly just 'appeared' next to him, but he didn't turn. Instead, he moved to one of the many small seats, benches, and other sitting arrangements scattered about the Infinity Circuit garden, and waited for his 'partner' to adjust to suddenly being back in reality. Time didn't really have a meaning to those lacking bodies, so the conversation was probably going to take a while.

Eventually, his new partner seemed to become aware of him, and her attention turned to him. She didn't speak, not with a voice that he could hear with his ears, but one he heard with his mind. *So… you are the one... I am to travel... with and assist…*

Several hours later, Arlas stepped out of the Infinity Circuit chambers, and headed to toward the main armory. He hadn't learned much from his partner, only that her name was Yol'Pvera, and that she had been a veteran fighter and transport pilot, before becoming a wraithbone singer specializing in building ships, after an injury sustained in battle had made her unable to pilot. She had mentioned being an artist before becoming a pilot, but very little other personal information had been revealed. She had, however, been capable of piloting most everything the Craftworld could make, so she could take over the role of pilot for him. Which was just as well, as he was a sniper in his soul.

Still, it was annoying to him to have another in his armor, since he wasn't an exarch or Farseer. Due to the fact he spent a large amount of time by himself, his thoughts tended to spread to whatever they wanted, despite the discipline that had been imposed on him during his centuries among the three different Aspect Shrines he had tried. The fact he had been through the Warp Spider, Striking Scorpion, and Warlock shrines had surprised his guest, but she had retreated to her own thoughts after learning he had more than four centuries as a Ranger and Pathfinder.

As far as he knew, his tendency to dabble with the shrines was uncommon, but hardly rare. He personally knew of at least two dozen others that had tried even more shrines than he had, and hundreds that had tried more than at least a couple. Maybe he was just the first she had personally encountered.

With a mental shrug, he entered the armory, and cast about for the armory master. Just because the Eldar grew their weapons and armor specifically for the individual didn't mean there weren't times when one had to replace a weapon or piece of armor quickly, and just grabbing a spare would work. In his case, he was seeking the wraithbone singer in charge of assisting in suit repairs and construction. The Singer would help the new suit of armor grow quicker, as well as get a few of the more esoteric pieces of equipment he would need for it.

As far as he knew, only Autarchs got to build suits like he was getting to, instead of only getting to take the designs of their Aspect Shrine and make them more fitting for the individual. While it was quite an honor, he was also aware that he was very likely to die or worse, and that this was not an elevation to the illustrious but unenviable position of Autarch. And that, after he returned to the Craftworld, he would likely have to return all the equipment he had gotten for the mission.

After a few psychic questions to the various armory staff, he located the Singer he was seeking, and that his name was, in fact, StarSinger. Singer was issuing orders to three of his senior staff as Arlas approached, all of them helmetless, though only two had the characteristic horns on their belts that let the wraithbone singers control and repair wraithbone constructs. He even got to listen in on the armory master's orders as he walked forward. "Tilden, get the vehicular wraithbone seeds ready, at least two. Mariua, I want at least a dozen weapon seeds, and a half dozen armor seeds prepared. Olothin, ensure at least one piece of all the specialized equipment the Pathfinder is cleared for is ready and fully charged. I don't want to have to send a runner for missing pieces again."

The second figure facing the lead Singer glanced at Arlas, before nodding slightly, directing the other's attention his way. After a glance, the lead Singer dismissed his subordinate armory masters, and turned toward Arlas, gracing him with a once over. "Pathfinder. You are earlier than expected."

Arlas did not physically shrug or nod, little needless movements like those were the failings of the mon-keigh, not the Eldar. Instead, he sent a psychic shrug as he replied. "My partner didn't need much time from me."

The Singer simply sent a feeling of understanding psychically, and turned to head after his subordinates. "I was given a brief summary on your mission, and the shrines you had experience with. However, nothing of your preferences so we could begin building your armor and weapons."

The words were emotionless, as was normal, but the psychic emanations were a slurry of confusion, annoyance, pride, confidence, and a trace of fear. Arlas easily picked up on what was causing which. Annoyance at the lack of information, confusion at the haste, pride that his armory was chosen, confidence that he and his could outfit Arlas, and the fear was because, while the Singer was old by Eldar standards, he was no fool, and knew that such a outfitting did not happen. Therefore, something was happening that required the making of something... 'unique.'

Arlas sent back soothing confidence and understanding, absently assisting the Singer. "Mobility, concealment, protection are the defensive priorities, in order. Weapon preferences will be whatever I can fit in my vehicle and decide to bring with me for that mission. The vehicles, however, I have no experience with other than my jetbike, so Yol'Pvera will likely have to assist with their designs."

The Singer sent back satisfaction and confidence, tinged with annoyance at being soothed by someone less than a third his age. The Singer held out his hand, and was immediately handed the spirit stone, which he slotted into a recess on his chest plate. No doubt the Singer immediately started conversing with Yol'Pvera, but still kept up his conversation with Arlas. "So you were experienced with the Warp Spiders, Striking Scorpions and Warlocks before you left to be an Outcast, correct?"

Arlas replied with a feeling of satisfaction and the Singer kept talking. "So, with the full armory open to you, what would be your perfect armor your upcoming mission? Start with the helm."

Arlas permitted himself a small smile as he responded. "A ghost helm with Striking Scorpion mandiblasters, a Dark Reaper rangefinder, and incorporated but detachable vision enhancement goggles."

He could feel amusement pouring off the Singer at the sheer amount of equipment crammed into the helm. "And here I was worried you would be hard to convince to take everything you would need."

Arlas continued, though he could feel the amusement thickening with each item he named. "Main armor would be runic armor with a mesh undersuit and carapace arm and leg guards, supplemented by a Warp Spider jump pack."

The last item actually broke the Singer's amusement, shock and concern supplanting the amusement, before those were replaced with cautious agreement. "Yes, the last should be possible, but do remember the dangers of using it. Perhaps keep it as a last resort only? Last thing we need is you vanishing due to overstressing the pack. What about runes, and perhaps swap out the carapace armor with wraithbone?"

Arlas had his turn at being surprised, before adding cautious agreement. "I was not a Farseer, so I thought those items would be forbidden to me. I also have little experience with any runes beyond scrying attempts."

Amusement and reproach. "You did request a Dark Reaper rangefinder. And ghost helms are usually reserved for Farseers as well. Though using a jump pack, I can see why you would want one."

Firm agreement from the Pathfinder. "I also would like to have a minimal silhouette so the usual fins and similar would need to be removed."

The Singer allowed himself a hum of agreement, his brow furrowed as he contemplated the difficult job ahead of him, but all Arlas could feel from him was a feel of enjoyment and satisfaction at being challenged. After a moment of contemplation, the Singer resumed the conversation. "Olothin is readying all the requested equipment, and the elder Farseer has approved the… unorthodox equipment. Also, we will need your cloak."

Arlas stripped the cameleoline cloak off, and handed it over without a thought. The Singer took it, and carefully draped it over one arm before resuming the conversation. "Weapons?"

Arlas sent back amusement and a feel of firm control, though the Singer could easily guess Arlas had held back a sassy response. Or more likely, several. "My long rifle to start, a better replacement for my older shuriken pistol. As many grenades of as many types as I can fit into my transport. A melee weapon would be wise, one handed blade is what I was trained with. A flamer, single handed version if possible, and fusion gun, a death spinner, and..."

The Pathfinder paused, before frowning. "Actually, I believe that is all the weapons I am trained with. I thought there were more."

The Singer was radiating amusement again. "And are you going to be going into each battle with all those weapons, or would you like an area in the transport to hold the extras? And which grenades do you want? We have six types, and you have limited space."

Arlas gave the Singer a flat look, though he was enjoying himself as they entered the area where his equipment would be assembled. "Holding slots, please. I will likely take three or four weapons at a time, if you count the blade. And I would like haywire, plasma, and melta grenades. Oh, and a small supply of shimmer grenades."

The Singer was nodding. "Fair enough. However, there is an issue. Where the Farseers are sending you, we know nothing about the other side. So instead of your jetbike, I suggest replacing it with a modified Vyper for moving around planets at Yol'Pvera's request, and your main vessel will be a modified Vampire Raider for orbital movement. For moving from systems to systems, however, that will be something that the Fleet Mistress will be providing."

Arlas couldn't contain his shock and surprise, and simply stared at the Singer. The armory master's amusement only got stronger. "Even so, it won't be as large as a proper Raider, hopefully we can get it down to nearly half the size and only a third the weight. We are currently experimenting with the design, but we think it will be about…"

Arlas was quickly lost in a bombardment of numbers and statistics that didn't really make sense to him, but he just let his confusion and acceptance flow, and the Singer eventually took pity on him. "To simplify, slightly shorter, somewhat less lengthy, a bit less wide. Will be over armed, but where you are going, too much firepower is likely not an issue. Armaments will be a scatter laser on the nose in a rotating weapon mount, a pulsar hard mounted to the spine of the craft, and twin linked pulse lasers housed on hardpoints on the wings, augmented by a crystal targeting matrix. Defenses are a titan grade holo-field, spirit stone mount for Yol'Pvera, star engines and vectored engines. All designed for the pilot to operate, while Yol'Pvera will navigate for longer journeys."

Singer glanced at Arlas, who was now back in the conversation, and while apprehensive about flying such a large craft, he felt he could easily learn. After all, he had piloted a jetbike for years, how much harder could a massive transport be? At least the Vyper would be a simple task, once he adjusted for the different mass. "Now, your Vyper is also going to be heavily modified from the basic chassis. Instead of an externally seated gunner, it will be a turret that you control, and Yol'Pvera will assist with navigation and making sure you don't fly into a wall again."

The Pathfinder rolled his eyes, no one had ever let him forget the one time he had clipped a wall while racing his jetbike. "It will be equipped with a shuriken cannon mounted under the cockpit, and the turret will have twin linked star cannons, again all augmented by a crystal targeting matrix. The turret will take some mastering, especially if you want to fly and shoot it at the same time, even with the matrix. Defenses are similar to the Raider, other than having a normal holo-field, instead of a titan grade one. Spirit stone mount, star engines and vectored engines."

Arlas nodded as he looked about the room they had just entered, and watched as the secondary singer began working on one of the small wraithbone 'seeds.' The seed was the size of his head, so the Pathfinder suspected it was either going to form the basis of his armor, or maybe be divided up into all the weapons he would be getting. After watching a moment, he turned back to the armory master. "Alright, we have discussed what I can do against ground targets, but what about moving from one system to another? The Vampire Raider isn't rated for that. Nor equipped, for that matter."

The Singer allowed his annoyance to show, but answered. "I already said, speak to the Fleet Mistress, she should have a ship to spare. I, however, have significant work to do. We will need Yol'Pvera to stay with us so we can ensure the vehicles are to her requirements."

Arlas gave the armory master a half serious salute, before leaving. With the more enjoyable part done, it was time go and figure out what wreck they were giving him to move around with, wherever he ended up. Sadly, this was more unfamiliar territory, so he did end up having to get directions several times. Once to get into the correct area, and once to figure out where Fleet Mistress Ulin was, and a few more after taking a wrong turn. A former Corsair, she had returned to the Craftworld nearly a millennia ago with her own fleet, and had quickly risen up to Fleet Mistress of the entire Craftworld defensive armada. She was also why the Craftworld had Corsair configured weapons and vehicles in their armories.

She was also and most definitely on the short list of women he knew that utterly terrified him. The list also included a Harlequin, an Imperial Inquisitor he had had the misfortune of running into, and an overly amorous Dark Eldar that thought he was the perfect toy. And the last one had promised to cut off his feet to keep him from running off if she had ever caught him. Still, he was fairly sure that Ulin wasn't out to get him. Or at least he hoped. He quickly reflected over every interaction with her to ensure she wasn't about to gut him with her power sword, pausing just outside the door to her lair, a combination of command center and her personal chambers.

*Stop whingeing and get in here.*

He recognized the mental voice, and quickly focused on not broadcasting every thought, doubt, and whatever else went through his mind, before opening the door. Fleet Mistress Ulin was sitting at her desk, reviewing a report while several displays showed her the status of the defensive armada, the Craftworld itself, and the system they were currently in. After a moment of waiting, she gestured to the seat across from her, and he took a seat while waiting for her to deign to grace him with her attention. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, annoyance briefly oozing from her, before she returned to her report.

Half an hour later, she finished, and finally deigned to grace him with her attention. Another flicker of annoyance slithered from her, before she spoke. "I don't approve of your mission. However, the Councils have spoken, so you are getting a ship. At worst, you are getting a dead ship. At best, you are getting one built for you. Now, what do you want, and expect, your possible ship to do? Impress me, grounder."

The last was a statement of fact, not an insult, though the only thing that kept it from being an insult was the lack of contempt coming from the Fleet Mistress. As it was, he didn't get offended. "Corvette sized vessel, small, fast, agile. Mostly point defenses, with a single main gun in case we run into something that we can't flee from. This is a scouting mission, not a fight."

He actually felt some grudging respect from the Fleet Mistress at his understanding of the requirements for his vessel. She quickly locked it down, but that she had allowed him to feel it meant he was no longer considered only an annoyance. "A Hemlock Destroyer."

He blinked, a hint of confusion at the sentence, before she slid a mobile display across the desk to him. He looked it over, and frowned. It matched his requests, but… "Concerned it will not be enough. Power requirements will be well above the normal thresholds. I might need to charge the engines and fire the main gun. Also, the defense turrets appear to only cover the front arcs. I might be running away from fleets, so being able to run and still shoot down their interceptors would be wise."

She graced him with what might have been a tiny smile, approval slowly permeating from her. She gave a nod, and slid a second display to him. This was a new ship, even to his inexperienced eyes, and he took several minutes to carefully read over the vessel. "New design, for the Craftworld at least, basically a fusion of the Nightshade Destroyer's main gun and Aconite Frigate weapon batteries. Almost an Aurora Class light cruiser, but still in the escort tonnage. Single fixed pulsar lance, weapon batteries taken from an Aconite Frigate. Enough firepower to turn a heavy cruiser into a hulk in a single barrage from a squadron, but still agile enough to avoid counter fire.

"Other Craftworlds already use them, call them the Hellebore Frigates. Yours, however, is getting extra weapon batteries and point defenses, as well as an extra solar sail for better speed and maneuverability, and a single launch bay for your transport. Crew of ten, provided by spirit stones. Also carrying a selection of Wraithguard for the crew to man in case of boarders.

"However, this will only said once, and I want this completely clear, you are not the captain. You may make recommendation and requests as the mission leader, but if you issue orders, the crew will ignore you. If they appear to follow them, it is because that is what they were going to do anyway."

Arlas kept his thought to himself, that he was being 'politely' told to 'leave the spirit crew alone.' Instead he simply nodded. The Fleet Mistress waited a moment, before allowing him to sense her annoyance. "That was a dismissal."

Arlas left the room, he most definitely did not flee from it and the wrathful Fleet Mistress residing within. No matter what she might think and the feeling of amused satisfaction coming from it might otherwise suggest. He sent off a short psychic message to the elder Farseer, letting him know that he was done with getting everything requisitioned. He then asked if there was anything else that the Farseer required, or if he should start visiting the various shrines to ensure his training and muscle memories were intact. All the Farseer sent back was an acknowledgement, so Arlas headed for the Warp Spider shrine first. Might as well start with the oldest memories first.

Edit - Feb 17, 2018 - Thanks to Ragnar92 for pointing out that archmagos run forgeworlds. Also added a point about why the rebellion required IG to assist the local forces.