For Overlord Udjemka, the Civilized World of Piedra Blanca was extremely annoying.
One of the problem children she had inherited from the Imperium of Man, Piedra Blanca suffered from a problem of institutionalized corruption beyond anything Udjemka had ever seen. It permeated every layer of their society and the idea of achievement based on merit was simply laughable. Working hard did not get you anywhere, it was all about who you knew and who you were related to. That resulted in a painful social striation, essentially a caste system in all but name, but infinitely worse than what the necrontyr had practiced. In necrontyr society, there were ways to elevate your caste, if you were intelligent and ambitious. In Piedra Blanca, where you were born was where you stayed.
In Piedra Blanca, only the poor worked hard at menial labor. Plum positions went to the well connected, not the able, and as a result the planet was barely functional. They had an unreliable power grid, built by barely qualified nepotism hires and maintained by the same. The vehicles were sputtering things, very sad examples of human technology, even by the Imperium's standards. All of the home-grown technology was similar. The only good things on the planet came from off-world.
Udjemka was trying to sort out this problem. It was tough going, because the malaise was deeply rooted, and technically she did not HAVE to do it but she had decided to make Piedra Blanca a project. Udjemka thought the planet had great potential. It did not have the kind of mineral deposits that Scaramy did, but within the crust were many resources that could fuel local development if properly mined. The climate of the planet was very hot, the equatorial bands just deserts, but there were vast oceans and beyond those deserts were heavy jungles and grasslands. Not to mention many gorgeous islands, blessed with beautiful climates year-round. If only the cultural rot could be rooted out, this planet could become as lovely as Luminous.
Piedra Blanca had been under tithed to begin with, and then shorting what little they had been tasked with, thanks to greed and corruption. The only reason the Imperium hadn't come to teach them a sharp lesson had been their position on the far end of nowhere. Udjemka had immediately corrected that, by the harshest means possible… she had executed the ruling family and put necron Lords in their place. The rest of the ruling class knew they were on thin ice and despite that, several of them had been executed as well. These humans were so used to their cupidity, it had been hard for them to understand that the time of unchecked, unfettered greed and power was over.
Rooting out the rot in the entire system, though, was very difficult so Udjemka had decided to make an end run around it. Bringing in humans from Hope, she had founded an educational facility on a private island chain that had formerly belonged to the ruling family. Gifted children were being brought in, carefully selected through various methods. Children of the upper classes and the lower, put into a system where only true achievement would be rewarded. Udjemka hoped they could begin breaking the stranglehold that mediocrity had over this society.
It was a challenging place to put Qarenna for her first true position, but Udjemka thought she was ready for it. Also, they needed junior Lords here… the administrator Lord in charge of the recruitment of younglings had been requesting help. Udjemka had already reached out to Hope, and they were arranging the free biotransference of very old, very accomplished teachers and University administrators, those with a long history of competence and love of their profession. They had already brought in many minor Crypteks with backgrounds in teaching.
One of those was giving Udjemka a bit of anxiety, although she knew it was better to just treat her as any other Cryptek. But Zefrehna had offered to help in the selection and teaching of the children. Trazyn had given his blessing but despite that, Udjemka couldn't help but worry. Zefrehna was not technically a noble, but that was very much a technicality… Udjemka knew how much she meant to her father.
On the other hand, it was highly unlikely the humans here could credibly threaten a necron and they were tied to their recall facilities if so. Udjemka knew it was silly to worry about Zefrehna, particularly when she was not worrying at all about Qarenna.
Right now, Udjemka was touring the new educational facilities with Qarenna. They were well built, and widely spread out, to accommodate the needs of different students. They would be training technical specialists, first and foremost, with an eye towards improving all the technology of the planet. But they would also be looking for other things, like new teachers, potential doctors, all kinds of things. They would expand the curriculum as they went, but this would be a teaching similar to what the ancient necrontyr had used, when young children were taken and inducted into the ranks of the Crypteks.
There were already some children here and Udjemka was able to watch them at play. The manor that had formerly belonged to the ruling family had been converted to their first boarding house, and between their studies, the youngsters were enjoying the beach. It was the pure white sand the entire planet had been named after. Udjemka watched as they tossed a large, inflatable ball back and forth. Qarenna made glyphs of nostalgia.
"I remember playing just like that as a child. Mother, do you remember? The beaches of Tadut, in the summer?" For a moment, Udjemka couldn't remember a thing. But then a vague, murky memory seemed to spark at the back of her mind and for a brief moment, she saw a tiny necrontyr girl in braids, dashing through much darker sand. Then the memory was gone, leaving behind a brief, but intense feeling of loss.
"For a moment, I think I did remember… you were so beautiful," Udjemka said after a moment, wishing she could hold onto the memory. But it was just a flash, gone as it came. "We should continue. I want to show you the main buildings." That was where the children spent most of their days, learning the fundamentals.
"Yes, of course. I look forward so much to helping with this," Qarenna said and Udjemka nodded. Her daughter was fascinated with this project and ready to help. Udjemka would put her under the command of Lord Ettokhut, who was running this operation for her. And then, her daughter would start to spread her wings and fly.
Udjemka was confident that Qarenna was ready.
Zefrehna walked through the dry, dusty land, down a pitted and broken old trail. Once meant for vehicles, it was fit now only for feet and bikes. That was fine though. The humans living at the end of this road could no longer afford any vehicles beyond those powered by their own muscles.
Zefrehna was going to a large, ranch style home. It was a relic of better times, a lovely building that was sad and faded now. It hosted a large, extended human family that had owned it for many generations. A pack of children were playing and when they saw her, they ran back into the home, calling for their parents. Not because they were afraid, but because they were expecting her.
Zefrehna was here for one child in particular. The local teachers had praised this boy to them and given them some samples of his work, his love of numbers and puzzles. Zefrehna intended to spend some time with this family, testing the child in question and also seeing if any of the others might be suitable. How much time? No longer than a week.
A week might seem like a long time, but Zefrehna wanted to take her time and get to know them. She was interested in recruiting the very young… they would be bringing children to the islands at ages ranging from eight to ten. Little children did not always understand the importance of tests and a single bad day could cause them to fail. Zefrehna loved children, though, and knew how to play with them and evaluate them via that play. She was confident she could pick out the ones with potential, with a little time.
The adults came out to greet her and the patriarch of the family was surprisingly warm. Zefrehna had already encountered plenty of terrified xenophobia from humans, but this planet was refreshingly free of it.
(it was actually largely a reaction to the massacre of the Planetary Governor and his whole family. They had been utterly loathed by most of the population. Maintaining their power by means ranging from military force, kangaroo courts and simple terror, their deaths had been actively celebrated)
(that one act had garnered their new Lords a great deal of goodwill)
They introduced her to the boy, a child by the name of Izan. He had very white hair but his skin was deeply tanned, an adaption to Piedra Blanca's harsh sun. His eyes were a common shade for the planet, a light purple. Zefrehna knew that was a mutation caused long ago, by the exposure to Warp Storms. It was actually quite a beautiful shade.
"This is Lady Zefrehna. She is here to see if you are worthy of going away for schooling," the patriarch of the family said and Zefrehna saw Izan look down for just a moment. "Remember, this is a great opportunity for you and for the family." Ah, he'd seen it too.
"Yes, great-father," Izan said. Zefrehna knew that was an honorific particular to this planet, referring to the man who led a great gathering of families. The patriarch left then, likely to go back to his work, leaving the two of them alone. Zefrehna decided to address the issue directly.
"Hello Izan. I know this must be frightening… it's a very hard thing, to think of leaving your family," Zefrehna said gently and Izan looked down again, more obviously this time. "Would it help if some of them came with you?" Izan looked up, surprised.
"They could? Teacher Mira said you would be interested in me…" he said and Zefrehna tilted her head.
"Well, we are looking for young, bright pupils. Do you think any of the other children would also like to go?" Zefrehna asked and Izan suddenly seemed hopeful.
"Bianca… she's my cousin, she's really smart. She can do a lot of things," Izan said and Zefrehna nodded.
"Could I meet her?" Zefrehna gently cajoled him. She really wanted to see the children interacting with each other, exercising their imaginations in a more natural setting. That would tell her who was truly intelligent and who was just good at passing tests. Those were not necessarily the same thing, although there was a correlation.
"Yes, for sure!" Izan happily took her to meet the other children. Many of them were afraid of her, of course, but they had been prepared by their elders and soon began to calm down. Zefrehna was able to get what she wanted, playing with the children and observing them with each other.
The family had many, many children and most of them were unsuitable. But Zefrehna particularly noted five children… one was too old for the general program, but perhaps they could make an exception and apprentice him directly to a skilled professional. Izan was definitely suitable, a truly brilliant child who might even be capable of learning necron technology. Bianca was not nearly as intelligent but she was also bright and Zefrehna thought she might make a teacher or nurse and she would be good company for Izan. Among the younger children, Zefrehna particularly noted two more… a young boy named Diego and a little girl named Angel. They were both highly imaginative and bright, with good potential.
Zefrehna spent the whole week with them, just taking her time and affirming her impressions. She coaxed Izan into showing her the things he had been working on, the toys he had been building for the other children out of broken parts. She saw Angel's art, beautiful pictures even at the age of six. She saw the older child, working hard to repair a broken engine for the good of the family. The whole family worked hard, mostly at the local mill. They were paid very little for their labor and raised their own food, great vegetables gardens with chickens wandering between the plants, pecking away the insects. The children contributed there too, weeding the gardens with their small hands. They were poor, but happy and productive.
After the week was over, a local cab came to pick her up. It was driven by a garrulous man Zefrehna had met before. She settled into the sputtering, coughing little vehicle and listened to his chatter as it bumbled its' way back to town.
"Ah, sorry about the bumps! The stabilizers are fritzing again!" He almost had to shout, to be heard over the buzz of the engine. Zefrehna didn't mind… in fact, it reminded her of the far-off past. "The muffler too! Ah, this is a hunk of junk, but it keeps plugging away!" Yes, that was the one good thing about this vehicle. Despite being immensely defective it still somehow managed to work rather reliably.
"It reminds me of one of my father's vehicles, so long ago," Zefrehna said, easily projecting her voice to be heard over the engine. And it was true… Trazyn had owned something close to what humans would call a 'dune buggy'. It had been used mainly for pleasure and Zefrehna vaguely remembered squealing with joy as a child as they blasted over dunes of sand. Djas could remember it even more clearly, and as a young adult he'd been trusted to pilot it. Although that had partly been due to the onboard AI and the anti-grav fields that would kick in if the craft was in danger. Without that Trazyn would not have trusted them and rightly so, they had done some very silly things with that buggy. "Mostly the bouncing." The dune buggy had not been built with good stabilizers, although unlike this car, that was deliberate and part of the charm.
"So how did you find the children? How did you find young Izan? They say he's brilliant, those little toys he makes!" Zefrehna quickly lost herself in the chatter, enjoying talking to this man. Which was good, given that it was a long drive to get back to the outpost. From there, she would see about going to another family for a similar stay.
Halfway back, though, the engine noise suddenly died down as the driver slowed. Zefrehna felt a bit confused until she peered outside the cab and saw… a blockade? Two cabs, being used to stop their way, and humans were standing in front of them.
"Oh no… why would they be this stupid…" the driver muttered, suddenly quiet and grim. Zefrehna tilted her head, not particularly alarmed.
"What is happening?" She thought she knew in a general way – these humans were up to no good – but what did they think they could accomplish? The cab driver was silent for a moment before explaining.
"It is a thing… a thing… the truly rich always have bodyguards, eh? But sometimes the moderately wealthy, just a bit less poor than we, must travel and they cannot afford such things. It is known that if you travel about by yourself you risk kidnapping. Then they will hold you and make your family pay, to have you back." Ah. That did make sense, but they truly thought they could do that with a necron? "So foolish to try this with you though. But then, they probably feel they have little to lose." Oh, how sad. Although Zefrehna did know that mindset… once, pirates had tried to attack Trazyn's dig and they had clearly not valued their own lives at all. Sighing internally, she reached into her chest and pulled out a little cube she kept there. It was an odd place to put things, perhaps, but the living metal necrodermis held it in place easily enough.
"Well, you stay here. I will take care of this," Zefrehna said before letting herself out of the cab. She had no intention of hurting anyone, but she would teach them the error of their ways.
The human who seemed to be in charge was like Izan, deeply tanned by the harsh sun and with very pale hair. His hair, though, was coming out in places and Zefrehna wondered if the light of this sun was in fact quite damaging. Or was that perhaps nutritional issues? When he spoke she noticed his teeth were terrible, which would indicate nutrition was the primary culprit. Despite that, he did not look too sickly but perhaps it was just a matter of time.
"Ah, great lady! We seem to have you. Please give yourself over to our care, we only desire a bit of money," he said easily and Zefrehna did not doubt it. She had only first impressions, of course, but he seemed good natured. Still, she was not going to humor this.
"Regretfully, I must decline," she said gently and the human frowned.
"But you are alone, and are you not a teacher? You have no weapons. Please, great lady, we do only want a bit of coin," he attempted to cajole her. Zefrehna shook her head.
"I am a very low level Cryptek, a teacher of children. However, my father stands among the highest of nobility and he cares about me, deeply. He gave me this," Zefrehna said before activating the tesseract cube.
The force that came out was a small squad of necron Warriors, headed by an experienced Immortal as a commander. The look on the human's face as he was suddenly confronted by cold, hard metal and gauss flayers was honestly quite hilarious.
"Mistress. Shall we kill them?" The Immortal asked and the human swallowed. Zefrehna shook her head.
"Only if they are still present in… five minutes," she said and the human shouted to his fellows. They were all abruptly scrambling to get back into their vehicles and get away, as fast as they could. Some of the jostling was highly amusing, as they forced themselves into the cabs in a way reminiscent of a clown car. Then the vehicles speeded away with more speed than sense. Fortunately no one had an accident, that would have been quite tragic. "Thank you Arakor, I appreciate it." Arakor was not re-souled and not fully sentient, but high functioning and he nodded in response.
"We live to serve," he replied and Zefrehna nodded before returning them to the tesseract and putting it away. Then she went back to the cab, where the driver had watched it all.
"Ah, what a relief! I was wondering how I would explain this!" he said as he fired up the engine again, the little car sputtering to life. "Not that I should get in trouble but shooting the messenger has always been a bit of a tradition around here!" Oh really? But then, she'd heard stories about how the old Planetary Governor had managed this place.
"Did the Planetary Governor literally shoot a messenger?" Zefrehna asked and the driver was more than willing to explain as they drove away.
"Did he! Oh yes, he did, multiple times!" Oh my goodness. "Quite a hand with a pistol, really. The stories I could tell you…!" Oh, do tell. "Once, there was a flood…" Zefrehna listened to the stories of incompetence, mismanagement and malignancy with fascination. How did a planet manage to reach this state? She might never know.
Hopefully, they could start making it better for everyone.
Cawl was deeply absorbed in the diagrams Ahkaros was creating, the schematics of the Pharos, and how he could modify them to suit Imperium level technology, when the voice of his ship's Captain spoke in his ear.
Necron vessels. Wait, what? Cawl's head jerked up as data was transmitted to him. Thirty ships, roughly. All classes. A small fleet. Has the necron betrayed us? Cawl jerked his head towards Ahkaros. The Technomancer was completely lost in his own work, staring fixedly at his necron cogitator. Cawl considered his personality, the Pharos, and made a lightning-fast deduction.
"No, it is the Pharos." Somehow, the ancient mechanism had alerted its' makers. "Rhodhan, take your ship into the Warp, get out of here. Come back after the battle is over." His personal vessel could do nothing. Verdana had a picket, but it was a mere ten vessels, it was surely doomed. "I will stay." Cawl was not going to abandon a second Pharos and he would place his trust in Ahkaros. There was a brief silence.
The Emperor watch over you. Communication cut off and Cawl was confident they would obey his orders. Turning to Ahkaros, he walked over and gently rested a hand on the screen of the cogitator, forcing the great Technomancer out of his trance. Ahkaros was highly annoyed, from the way his ocular flashed, but then Cawl spoke.
"A fleet of necron vessels has just arrived in the system. Have we missed something? Was the Pharos booby trapped?" Cawl asked and Ahkaros froze for a moment, in shock. Then he turned back to the cogitator and Cawl pulled his hand away. The runes scrolled across it with lightning speed, Ahkaros interfacing with the Pharos on a very deep level. Then the runes slowed, until a single screen of runes came into full being. Cawl couldn't read them, they were too small and he thought that Ahkaros was not absorbing them with his eyes.
"Brilliant. Brilliant. I was wrong," Ahkaros rasped, still staring at the screen raptly. "You remember how I complain about the C'Tan? How lazy it is?" Cawl nodded. He most certainly remembered that. "I was wrong… there was a reason, a purpose. They tuned the Pharos to the C'Tan, that particular C'Tan… no, that particular shard. Anything else, and the Pharos sings." Ahkaros reached out, almost reverently, towards his screen. "From the moment I powered it, it has been singing… and because I had never seen a Pharos with the intended power source, I could not know. Brilliant work," he said and Cawl wished he could admire it more.
"Brilliantly screwing us," he said and Ahkaros made that rattling sound that served him for a chuckle. "What are we to do about this? The system picket will do what they can, but they are outnumbered three to one."
"We will see what they have to say. Then, I will take care of it," Ahkaros rasped and Cawl remembered what he had said about destroying a Forge World. Could he destroy a full necron fleet? Cawl knew by now that Ahkaros had not obeyed the command to sleep, had been awake a full sixty million years. If any single individual could destroy an entire fleet, it was him.
Did the Szarekhan necrons know that?
The answer, Cawl quickly realized, was no. As the space battle began in earnest, a two-way FTL communication came to them. It solidified with no need to be activated, which Cawl knew was the sign of a hostile message.
Ahkaros. You piece of trash. Get your filthy paws off our property, the necron Overlord said in low Gothic, presumably so Cawl could understand. He was a very imposing figure, barrel chested and holding a customized Staff of Light. Ahkaros made a soft, hissing sound that mimicked a snarl quite well.
"Make me, Khastos," Ahkaros said before making a gesture. Cawl had never seen a necron make that particular gesture before, and it seemed to have meaning, so he committed it to memory as the Overlord returned the gesture.
Quite an attitude from the last of your line. So eager to join the ruins of Ammunos? The Overlord taunted and Cawl fancied he could sense Ahkaros' irritation, as he twitched slightly, his fingers curling. I will give you one chance. Hand over that organic trash and surrender yourself, swearing loyalty to the Silent King, and we will spare your life. If not, we will annihilate you.
"No. Fuck Szarekh and fuck you," Ahkaros rasped before giving his own ultimatum. "Leave, now, or I will kill you all. You will not recall, you will die here, consumed by a force much greater than yourselves." The Overlord's eyes flared with anger at the Technomancer's impudence.
I will call your bluff, Ahkaros. Perhaps though, I will still give you the opportunity to swear loyalty, after I destroy the Pharos in front of you. Cawl felt a flash of rage at the thought and saw Ahkaros back stiffen. Then the communication abruptly winked out and Ahkaros was left staring at the spot it had been.
"I am not bluffing…" he rasped before pulling out a cube. Cawl watched as it unfolded into something from a Guardsman's worst nightmares.
An army of Necron Warriors and Immortals arrayed themselves around the Pharos. Doom Scythes hovered above the ground, ready to annihilate anyone who threatened the precious artefact. And most frightening of all, hideously defiled necrons, the things Cawl knew to be Destroyers, hovered and scuttled, ready to bring utter annihilation to anyone foolish enough to face them.
And they noticed him.
"What is this? You have a pet now?" The one that appeared to be the leader growled. Cawl met his eyes fearlessly. He had seen worse than this, over the centuries and he had faith in Ahkaros' control. Ahkaros sighed.
"An apprentice. Obey his orders, guard him, and guard the Pharos," Ahkaros instructed and the Destroyer's eyes flared.
"Obey an organic?! I will not endure such humiliation!" he snarled and Ahkaros made a sharp gesture. Cawl was fascinated as he saw the Destroyer flinch, almost cringe.
"You will do as I say. Guard the device well, guard him well, and no orders need be given. I will expect everything to be exactly as I left it when I return, or there will be a fate much worse than death waiting for you," Ahkaros rasped and while the Destroyer glared, Cawl fancied he could sense his fear. What power did Ahkaros have over them? "Now…" Ahkaros pulled out another cube and this time, what emerged from it was another power cell. But this one was not like the others. The brilliant fires of a captive sun were held in an intricately worked array of technology, moving with tiny Canoptek scarabs. "This is a star… an entire star. Ten million years to eat the whole thing, turn it into one of these…" Ahkaros touched the power source reverently as Cawl swallowed. "It is time to remind the Szarekhan Dynasty of who I am."
Power collectors unfolded and Cawl watched, spellbound, as the light of the captive star began to vanish. It was a slow, controlled absorption and Ahkaros seemed to glow with power. Then, the dusty old necron became… tenuous, as though he was barely there at all. Cawl's eyes widened as the physical vanished, replaced by what seemed to be a glorious butterfly of pure, unrelenting light. It was almost painful to look at and the wings enfolded the power cell, draining away the last of its' energy and leaving it quiet and dark. Then the butterfly began to fly.
It filled the sky with gorgeous light, surely seen over most of this hemisphere, before it vanished into the void of the stars. Cawl looked after it helplessly, unable to see what was happening. He looked at the Destroyer Lord for a moment but the Destroyer just glared back and Cawl could tell he would be unwilling to speak. So instead, he turned his attention to the necron cogitator.
He could not help in the sky battle at all and there was still work to be done.
Far in the skies above Verdana, Drakos Kellariak, Lord Captain of the Imperial Navy, manfully restrained a curse as he expertly guided his fleet in a doomed but valiant defence.
Damn you, Belisarius Cawl, for bringing this down on our heads! Drakos internally railed, even as he snapped off quick, crisp commands. He knew Cawl was somehow responsible for this… there were no necrons threatening the Sabbat Cluster. Quite the contrary, the enemies here were Chaos and the only Necron Dynasties in the area were quietly trying to avoid notice. They had no wish to be crushed between such titans.
(that was not entirely correct, a very powerful necron Dynasty was still slumbering, their awakening protocols failing to activate. The Dynasties Drakos was thinking of were their detritus, small independent Dynasties that had not been worth absorbing)
(when they did awaken, the entire Sabbat Cluster would be rocked to its core)
Cawl had somehow brought this down on them, Drakos knew it. The Mechanicus was notorious for messing with necron technology. Partly because it was so good and so tempting, but also because they had managed to reverse engineer a few things before. Or so Drakos had heard, anyway. Such things were secrets of the Mechanicus.
Still, it was well known that the Mechanicus loved to explore necron technology, in particular. Cawl had arrived and roughly three months later, they were facing a fleet of Necron vessels. Coincidence? He thought not.
"Sabbat's Arms, take the oblique. Emperor's Message, hold the course…" Drakos immersed himself in the job of command. He was far from perfect, a fairly minor fleet commander, but he would sell all their lives dearly. Hopefully they would permanently destroy at least a few necron ships.
The last thing Drakos was expecting was divine intervention. The Emperor was real, he truly did believe that, but he also believed the Emperor was too caught up in greater matters to spare a bit of attention for something as small as them. Drakos had always sneered at the thought of miracles, telling his men they needed to make their own miracles.
Until today. Drakos fell silent, and the rest of his bridge and even the fleet fell into the same silence as they saw the Avatar of the Emperor ascend from the planet. It glowed with beautiful blue and white light and seemed like a holy butterfly, ascending on glorious wings of light. The light miraculously did not harm them, gently caressing their ships as it went to the necrons with deadly purpose.
Entire ships were pulled into the Emperor's embrace. Drakos watched, open mouthed, as he saw the ships fracture and go dark, ever vestige of energy sucked from them. Broken pieces of formerly living metal, now dead and inert, were allowed to drift away into the void of space. And the butterfly flapped its wings, glowing more brilliantly than before.
The necron forces panicked. Drakos could see the signs of it, as an experienced Naval commander. They were going multiple directions, cohesion lost as they tried desperately to enter FTL before the butterfly could reach them. The problem was, just like jumping into the Warp, you couldn't go into FTL from a cold start… it required a bit of build up and you had to be a certain distance from gravitational sources.
The necron fleet didn't have time for that. The butterfly was fast, when it wanted to be, taking ship after ship and sucking them dry. It paused on a final ship, though, and behaved a bit differently… this ship, a very small one for a necron fleet, was gently enfolded in the wings of the butterfly. It pulsed softly for a few moments before the ship was allowed to leave, still intact. That one ship was permitted to escape and enter FTL travel. Drakos wondered why the Emperor had shown mercy on that one vessel in particular.
(Ahkaros had imprinted it with a message, telling the Silent King precisely what he thought of him and how he could go fuck himself. It was a detailed message)
(Ahkaros had long ago remembered everything and while, like Trazyn, he was not burningly angry he carried a very long-term grudge)
"Praise the Emperor," Drakos murmured reverently as the butterfly flowed past them. The energy filled their screens, caressing their ships with spiritual wings before it vanished into the planet. "We have been the recipients of a true miracle. All of you, bow your heads in prayer." He sent the message to the entire fleet, and they obeyed him. Prayers and praises to the Emperor filled all the ships, as they celebrated this holy miracle. They had been delivered from certain doom and Drakos was in awe of it.
The Emperor Protects.