Today, the poor schmuck for Warhammer tries to remain sane in the crazy world of Blue Archive.. by forcing himself to think he's still in the clearly more reasonable world of Warhammer.
Yeah.
This will be an exposition chapter. It kind of got away from me since I expected it to be shorter, but ah well. CONTENT! To the chapter!
*Chapter 4: Internal Investigation*
The beeps of my alarm sound off at the appointed time, and I switched it off after the first round. 8:00AM, as usual. On slower days at the Schola, when all the recruits were tasked with self-study or a day off, I'd usually wake up at this time. Perhaps an hour later, if I really felt so inclined.
I never did. Five days straight in this strange "academic city", and sleep was hard to come, and far too easy to shake off.
It wasn't due to the accommodations either. The bed was a fine, elegantly crafted plastic-frame king-size with white sheets, smooth enough to feel like you were floating on them. Situated beside it was a view of the city fit for a planetary governor. Fitting I suppose, given that I basically was the equivalent for about thirty seconds. Shame I couldn't appreciate it. It ranked highly among the many, many places I've stayed in over the past two centuries, although the situation I was put in offset any comfort I might have felt.
I let my hand relax as I holstered my laspistol. I put my smartphone, the multipurpose communication device provided for me, on sleep mode. It was basically a customizable data slate (By the Emperor, I had seen so much white that I immediately got myself a black phone case so my eyes could rest) so mercifully, it was easy to comprehend. The bigger tablet beside it, still asleep in the most literal sense? Not so much.
That I could say so about a machine without a hint of irony or any derision towards the nearest cogboy (of which there were none, and I wasn't sure that was good or not) was a sad, confusing time.
Whatever the case, I quickly got up and went to the washroom for a little cleaning. I could use the shower, but my routine for the day would render any cleanliness gained moot. A small lathering to wake me up wouldn't hurt though, and so I went to the mirror to tend to my face.
My incredibly young face.
Among the many mysteries of Kivotos was that my summoning here brought me here in my prime years, the twenties of the old millennium. If my baptism of fire at Desolatia was a(n un)happy little accident where a plucky young commissar managed to save the day, those years truly solidified my ridiculous reputation as a hero. The events of my march through the city, hectic as they were, put any thoughts of my appearance out of mind, as you might imagine. The sheer insanity of the day also never let me realize that I trekked through 30 kloms with little (voiced) complaint when I could barely reach the door of my bedroom without help in my last days.
I only realized this the morning after, when I woke up and went to the bathroom. The incredibly young fellow looking back at me seemed vaguely familiar, and I recoiled in utter incredulity when I realized it was me. I distinctly remember slapping my face to make completely sure that I wasn't in the middle of some chaos-spawned hallucination, once again thinking of the temptations of the Dark Prince. To be frank, despite several days passing of this surreal experience, I still wasn't. I suppose it made sense for the President to summon her replacement at an age where he wouldn't die in five minutes. Imagine the embarrassment of calling a man to save the city and he had to stop every other step (and possibly die) due to an asthma attack.
I did have my augmetic fingers though. I'd been with them far longer than I'd been without them, and I suppose they came along for the ride when my real fingers didn't. Even that was a bittersweet comfort, because I only got them in the very twilight of these prime years. Seeing my young visage coupled with replacement prosthetics that I only received just before I lost it formed an unpleasant disconnection.
I then glanced down at the facial wash, glaring at it as though it was some icon of evil. Certainly, there was "Smooth Cream" written in proper Imperial Gothic. There was also an equally large collection of characters I'd never seen in my life before I came here.
And I understood every bit of it. There were even multiple systems of these characters, "hiragana", "katakana", "kanji", and I could easily grasp them all as easily as the Imperial Tongue. In fact, I wasn't even speaking the Imperial Tongue.
This revelation came later, when I took full stock of my personal effects and found that Amberly had buried me with a fresh copy of "The Precepts of Saint Emelia". Unlike the rousing speeches and calls to glory encouraged by most of the Imperium, hers was a humbler call of empathy and compassion, appreciating your own imperfections and trying to give your best for others despite them. Something about her simplicity always stuck with me, more than the impassioned cries of piousness and purifying war from any preacher. If I ever knew I was staying anywhere for an extended period of time, I always tried to get my hands on a copy of her sayings, either personally or through relying on Jurgen's resourcefulness.
Point being, I was reading through the book to anchor myself, the therapeutic recollection of the old sayings coming with every turn of the page, when I was interrupted. The pict-recordings of my interview after my little romp through the city played, and as I gazed upon them with the usual bile fascination of watching myself spew utter frak, I suddenly realized that the words I was saying matched not a single piece of text in my book. In fact, I suddenly realized there were many, many things not written in Gothic, all of which I could understand without difficulty.
More than anything, I resented that speech and the knowledge of the language for souring my experience reading the Precepts. I'd associate it with this harrowing revelation for a while.
Finished with contemplating that worrying surprise and rinsing my face, I left the washroom and returned to my bedroom. I went to the closet and dressed in an undershirt and pants that were stored in the closet, the armor (you never knew when you would get shot, especially in a city like this) as well as a pair of gloves. Nearly two centuries with my augmetics didn't exactly make me insecure with them, but revealing them would lead to questions, and for reasons pragmatic and personal, I would rather not have them asked. In one pocket I put my smartphone, and after an uncomfortable pause I put the Shittm Chest in the other. Of course I brought my chainsword, attached opposite my laspistol. The laspistol was refreshed with a fully charged power pack, and I could be reasonably sure that it'd take a little longer for me to run out on my next prolonged engagement.
After all, I had five spares attached to my belt and several more I could bring if I wanted. And my, was the acquisition of THOSE a very telling time.
It was during the initial tour of SCHALE where I inspected the facilities. I had a ludicrous number at my disposal. I only got an inkling of it when I was told I had a hangar and helicopter landing pad. The hangar itself was a very well-equipped installation. It was connected to a garage below and the roof above, allowing both ground and air vehicles to be housed, maintained, customized and prepped for deployment. Already a significant addition, but that was only the beginning. It had a variety of facilities for education, physical fitness, training, recreation and even lodging.
The accommodations and facilities gave me an idea of how the President expected I would use SCHALE. Considering their general lives as students and their greatest consistent weakness being tactics, the building would allow me to educate them in battlefield tactics while housing them for an extended period of time for standby on missions, all without impacting their ability to do their academics.
As I was struck with just how much I had in my hands, Arona called me and directed me to the basement level once again. It was then she explained to me exactly what that strange device that resided there was.
—
"Sensei, this is probably one of the most important devices in the building! Second only to Arona, of course!"
"Of course Arona," I acknowledged to the device in my hand, trying to seem amused. The strange feeling emanating from said device dampened my humor. "What is it then?"
"It's the Crafting Chamber!" Arona announced proudly. "By connecting it to me, you can use it to recreate tons of stuff!"
My eyes widened at the device, staring at it with newfound respect and quite a bit of concern. So it manufactured items? "What could I recreate?"
"Why don't you have a look?" she said excitedly. I perused the tablet and once again found myself staring in awe. A truly staggering number of objects of various sizes, ranging from ammunition and accessories to large furniture and machines, appeared in front of me. Devoid as I was of more athletic clothing, I asked for an undershirt. I then saw a small bar of energy appear on the screen, with part of it blinking as I was asked for confirmation. "I only have a limited amount of energy I can reserve for crafting, but I can still make a lot of stuff!"
Numbly, I pressed the OK button, and the stone shined with blue light. It then projected a blue ray of light below it that slowly traced the form of the shirt. Eventually it finished, and with shaking fingers, I picked it up. It had no colors or words of design, it was simple a piece of clothing could be, and yet the point was that it existed.
"Very impressive Arona," I said faintly. A powerful device. It couldn't be anything else other than Archaeotech, a classification I extended to the Shittm Chest in my hands and the Abominable Intelligence it housed.
A tempting, unlikely new thought rose through my mind. If there was any chance…
I took out my laspistol and ejected a power pack. It was very poorly charged after all this time, but if I was right, it wouldn't be alone for much longer.
"Would you be able to copy this, Arona?" I said slowly.
"Hmmm…" The little AI projected a beam of light from the Shittm Chest, scanning my weapon. After a brief moment that probably involved calculations, a bright voice answered me. "A portable capacitor power pack? Sure! No problem!"
In utter shock, I stared as the device shined once more and moments later, I was gifted with a fresh, fully charged power pack. As though it would burn me, I picked up the battery for my laspistol, loaded it inside and switched it on.
The indicator light turned green, signaling that it accepted the charge and was ready for use.
"If you need anything else, just let me know!"
"I'll be sure to do that," I said faintly, my hesitation not matching her excitement at all. I hurried out of the basement. I needed to test this now.
The power pack fired perfectly, of course. In a city that relied on stubs and autoguns, she scanned and replicated my power pack with all the difficulty of pulling a bunny out of a hat. She even said that she could replicate my laspistol, my chainsword and even my carapace armor, so of course I recreated those plus a few of my outfits, because you could never have enough spares. And now she knew of the elements, materials and processes that made up all of those things.
It was there I felt keen disappointment that I wasn't buried with a single packet of tanna. Bloody hell Amberley, you knew how much I loved the drink! if I had been buried with one I'd be swimming in my favorite liquid refreshment till the Emperor finally rose from the throne!
—
A fantastic and terrifying piece of technology she was. It also explained just how I had so much for my own use. How the President managed to hide such a ludicrous amount of spending was initially unthinkable to me, but the Crafting Chamber enlightened me greatly.
She bought this building and converted it into what it was now, some multipurpose center for both entertainment and education. She might have paid a fair sum for expanding and modifying the structure of the building to accommodate the facilities, but easily kept costs down by using the Crafting Chamber to stock them with everything they needed. Then, in a masterstroke, nearly the entire building was made open to the public, allowing it to make up for the costs and even generate profit. Firing ranges, gymnasiums, lounges and arcades were of equal use to both combatants on standby and the general public (especially when the latitude between the two was very, very narrow), and the hangar was already used by the GSC itself as well as several schools commissioning it for use, obviously with payment. She even collaborated with a store to open a branch down in front as part of the cover, as well as a cafe connected to ground floor of the building.
Until my arrival, the only parts prohibited were the basement, my office and my penthouse room, allegedly "under construction". Now, most of the building was locked off from the public with the exception of the store in the residence level and the connected cafe. Only students I identified as being part of SCHALE would be allowed to gain access to most of the building, though at my discretion I could restore the original low-security protocols, or do the opposite and deny access to all but me (and technically Arona, but for all her wonders, making the Shittm Chest walk for her isn't one of them).
I almost had to marvel at the audacity of it. She bought an entire building and concealed the secrets of what was in the bottom and the top by filling the middle to the brim and letting everyone use it.
The only fly in that ointment was Arona. If she truly was made for me and waiting for me, how would the president use the Shittm Chest to access the chamber? Given that she had the tablet with her this whole time, was she also authorized to use it without her?
For some reason, my mind and body instinctively rejected the possibility of her being unable to access the Chest and Arona. I shook my head and left those thoughts behind in my room. I entered the elevator and went down to the office level. I ignored the double hexagon sculpture in the middle, passed by the laboratories and went to the firing range, a blue tiled room with the main shooting range having a black floor with blue stripes delineating the firing lines.
Given the Kivotos citizens' seemingly universal appreciation for firearms, I should have known that there would be a range here, but it was of a higher quality than most. It was stocked with practice ammunition of all kinds such that any student from any school would be able to make use of it. I amused myself thinking that it was more for cost than safety, for any student would easily withstand a barrage of real bullets anyway.
Off to the left of the room was a computer for controlling the range itself, with adjustable settings for target distance, movement of various speeds, scenarios such as hostage rescue, time trials and even conversion into a mini kill-house for simulated clearing speed tests. It could even release various practice drones to engage you if you ever felt so inclined.
I already used it to test my power packs, as well as positively confirming that my (extra, recreated) carapace armor laughed in the face of stub ammunition with nary a dent left behind, but shooting wasn't what I was here for today. With a few button presses the firing posts sank down into the floor, leaving a flat field. I set my phone, the Chest and my laspistol down on the chairs beside it. I had all I needed.
I drew my chainsword and removed all thoughts of this strange city in my head. If nothing else, my second lease of life here returned to me one of the few things I truly took pride in.
Memories of those happy times in the Reclaimers' training chapel came to the fore. The weight of millenia of the Emperor's Finest training in the same hallowed halls as I did elevated my simple practice drills in a way no other place had ever done since, even here. Certainly, the versatility and technology were present, but none of the meaning was. Still, I tried to recall those times, if only to soothe my own spirit.
For quite some time, I refreshed myself in the use of my chainsword, the gratifying sounds of the swishing blade and the engines powering it blowing all distractions from my mind.
—-
Following my practice session, I went back up to my room and after a lukewarm shower (by my design, currently desiring neither the comfort of warmth nor the forced alertness of cold) I changed into the usual peaked hat and uniform, forgoing the greatcoat but with the gloves and the scarlet sash. I needed to look presentable for the public, but not needlessly so, for my next destination. Instead of the office level, I went all the way down to the residence hall. I passed by the lounge and instead went for the glass doors on the far left of the building. They automatically parted at my approach, welcoming me to the convenience store Angel24.
Angel24 was the store that the President collaborated with in opening the building, so named because it was open 24 hours a day (if nothing else, the length of a day was something I didn't need to get used to). It reopened two days after the criminal uprising was quelled, as it miraculously suffered little damage despite being right beside hordes of delinquents, a cruiser tank and the insane criminal that was Wakamo. Feeling curious about it, I made myself fit for public appearance and decided to conduct another inspection.
It was here that I learned of the "convenience store". While markets for various sundries as well as specialized shops were still present in Kivotos, the convenience store was an old cultural landmark. Though they weren't as big as said markets or specialized stores, they made up for it with the breadth of their smaller inventory and various other services they could perform for you. The premise was that if you had an immediate need for anything, you could probably find it there at any time.
Did you need a battery? You could get one. Perhaps tools to install said battery? Right this way sir. A bit bored perhaps? Books and comics right by the windows. Feeling a bit peckish? Finger foods and full meals of all kinds, with an oven or toaster for heating them right up. Parched instead? Cold and chilled, freshly brewed, alcoholic or non-alcoholic, all kinds of liquid refreshments were yours for purchase (except, of course, for tanna). A little under the weather? Well, we aren't a pharmacy, but if all you have is a cold and a sore throat then we have the basics for you.
By the way, are you out of underwear? Don't worry, they're safely tucked away from the food. Need something to… "protect" yourself during a good time? Don't worry, we won't ask, and that's not close to the food either.
Of course, with Kivotos being Kivotos, guns, bullets and grenades were also all for sale, and I was disturbed to notice that not only would the inventory kill me, many would give me a very long, agonizing and drawn out death. On most worlds, if you weren't a guardsman or an arbites, only gangers had easy access to such lethal armaments. Well, perhaps "lethal" doesn't exactly apply to the residents here with the unfortunate exception of yours truly.
I did find it confusing that one needed verification of age of majority (18, in this case) to enjoy the pleasures of smoke, alcohol, and other "adult activities", while such restrictions need not apply to guns and even high explosives. I find it even more confusing that this particular store brand even stiffed on the age restriction of selling them. Many an emperor-botheror preached that a bottle of amasec was more dangerous to the body and spirit than the bolt of a lasgun. Perhaps fittingly, they would find themselves vindicated by a world full of little girls with halos, all more likely to die (or at least be inconvenienced) by the former rather than the latter.
Ignoring the oddities of Kivotos, I could applaud the idea of the store. Emperor knows we've all forgotten something we needed at one point or another, and the wide variety of goods and services provided makes the establishment's archetypal name an accurate one. Even Angel24's supposed unique selling point of 24 hours isn't truly unique, and many such stores often operated for nearly that long anyway.
When I walked in, as I expected, I found the counter manned by a little girl barely reaching my waist. She seemed to have been nervously expecting my arrival as well, as she flinched only slightly less than our past two meetings.
"A-ah, Cain-Sensei! Hello- I mean, welcome to Angel24!"
"Morning to you, Sora."
This was Sora, a junior high school girl aged 9, crowned with a double ringed halo with an emphasized tear-drop. Rather fittingly, as an employee of Angel24, she had tiny wings protruding from her back, the innocent little feathers of a cherub. My first introduction to the store was to find it empty aside from me. Mere seconds later, that would not be so, as I would soon meet her.
—-
The streetward entrance of the store opened, and I found myself raising my eyes at the sight of a young girl bolting in like a daemon was at her heels, stopping once she was inside. Both her body and her duffel bag drooped down towards the floor as she panted for breath. "Oh… Please… I hope I'm not late…"
She looked up and all but jumped in fright when she saw the veritable giant that I was compared to her. "Eeee! Who are you?!" I was about to answer when her mouth dropped in fear, and she began babbling as though she had sinned in front of Him on the Golden Throne. "I-I'm sorry sir! Welcome to Angel24, may I have your name?"
Feeling very unbalanced by the reactions of the girl in front of me, I answered her with the feeling of being on autopilot. "I am Ciaphas Cain, Miss. Pleasure meeting you."
"Ah, hello there Cain sa-" she stopped dead, and she began trembling once again. "Y-you're the Sensei of SCHALE?!"
Oh dear. She was looking at me as though I was called to exercise, or more appropriately "execute" my "commissarial duties" upon her. People would start asking questions if word of a little girl crying in a store in my presence got out, so I immediately moved to reassure her, making an unusual suggestion from what little I gleaned from her arrival. "Are you sure you're punched in for work already?"
"Eh?" Her nerves paused, and then immediately caused her to shoot behind the cashier and through the service door behind it. A bang of the door and a few fumbling sounds later, and she exited the room with the store's apron improperly worn on top of her uniform with a loose strap, and an embarrassed look of shame upon her face.
"Th-thanks… For the reminder Sensei…" Relief and exhaustion combined to strain her breathing even more. "I was almost la-"
And once again, she stopped at the sight of me, looking away in silence and shame. I suppose talking about your problems to a customer was extremely unprofessional, and combined with the fact that a customer had to keep her punctual (something which matched my actual commissarial duties remarkably well), and said customer was city's brand new hero, and it all combined to make her first day here get off to an embarrassing, stressful start.
Now that I think about it, I supposed that was how I felt when I felt wracked with more headspinning revelations every minute I stayed in this city.
"Excuse me miss, but could you explain to me all about this store?"
"Eh? Oh, you see…"
And thus she began talking once more, replacing her embarrassment with focus on doing her duty. It was my pattern for this whole encounter, and really, most of my time here. In the moment of panic and loss, you went back to your instincts. In times of persistent, unending confusion, that you have to think about, find the familiar. Cling to it like a life raft, until you are guided to your center once again.
It was there that I learned about the "convenience store", and coaxed her out of her unease with endless questions and, eventually, a purchase of a breakfast "bento" (a set meal in a box with designs from wood to plastic and anything in between, with the food divided into compartments for both presentation and practicality) and a cup of tea, heated to my preference. I filled the silence of heating up my purchases with more random conversation, such as why she was late and the story of how a young girl was even here.
Apparently she needed the money, and while she was refused from most forms of work due to her adolescence, Angel24 was willing to take on even those of her age, and thus she signed up. She was accepted naught but a day before the criminal uprising began but, in a huge coincidence, said uprising was quelled by me two days before her shifts would begin. After taking inventory the next day and seeing there was surprisingly little lost, they would open the day after, with all employees required to man their shifts. Importantly, this included new hires like her.
Naturally, she didn't even know of any of this until the very day of the reopening a mere hour before our meeting, demonstrating to me that, from the largest administrata to the tiniest operations, bureaucratic inertia was as universal a concept as it always was.
I ended the conversation with becoming a member of Angel24's loyalty program, a system which would reward constant patronage with discounts and extra items added to my purchase for free. By the time she said goodbye and thank you, she seemed so utterly relieved that she didn't realize that she had an entire conversation with me.
I then exited the store with a warm meal and a warm spot of tea. The food was good, better than the reheated lounge food if only from the memory of the encounter and the knowledge of a place to obtain necessities. But as I expected, the tea just didn't compare to tanna.
—
I met Sora again over the next three days because, through more coincidences, everyone else who had these shifts took to sickness or else had other priorities from the destruction wrought by the criminals flooding the city. Due to this, we became acquaintances of opportunity, if nothing else. I absentmindedly made sure to purchase things from the store, if only to wonder if I would actually see her again and make use of the benefits from my loyalty card.
"Did you have a pleasant morning, Cain-Sensei?" She asked me, following my advice that, in certain occasions and with enough rapport with repeat customers (such as me, pretending to have such rapport with her), a little professionalism could be waived.
"Well enough. Washing my face, a morning workout and a shower before breakfast. Invigorating, if nothing else," I mused. "How about you?"
"Not too bad! I managed to get here early this time!" she said proudly. "Punched in on time, no rushing, and a bit of relaxing before you came in!"
"Well and good," I said with a smile. At the very least, she wouldn't be trembling every time she looked at me. I looked over the food choices once more and decided to order the same thing. "The usual, if you please." And then, with a sigh, I added one more thing. "And a box of cream puffs."
She faltered at the size of my meal requests. "O-Oh… Is that why you go for workou-" She cupped her mouth. "Ah, of course sir, right away!"
A little too much professionalism waived that time, I thought as she quickly ran for the temporary safety of heating and preparing all my orders. Sadly, considering what was included, I couldn't blame her. The breakfast bento already had a filling mix of grilled fish, rice, a fried egg and even included a canister with a peculiar type of soup called "miso", a soothing, warm balm to the throat. A box of six sweet cream-filled pastries, while certainly pleasant for my taste, would do no favors to any man's figure.
Of course, they weren't all for me. But she didn't need to know that.
Seeing that that little mistake would send her spiraling into ashamed depression, I picked up the slack of conversation instead. "If I'm not too busy, I generally try to fit in a little movement at the beginning of the day."
"O-oh!" Realizing that I was giving her a thread to grab on, she seized it and held it on for life. "Um… What kind of workout?"
"Sword practice," I told her, tapping the chain weapon at my side. "Practicing forms, shadow dueling and other basic drills."
Her eyes went to the weapon and bulged. Understandable. Never mind the city's preference for ranged combat that matched the Tau (Which made sense for those physically incapable xenos, but not here. Honestly, if you were all so durable bullets bounce off you, why WOULDN'T you try to charge in and clock a few heads, maybe bring a hammer or blade with you?), this was a very advanced and incredibly grisly weapon, and I was the only one in this city who had it.
"Ohhhhh… Yeah, that looks like it would be dangerous to use," she replied with nerves clearly acting up. Perhaps scared off by possibly offending me, the conversation paused as she used tongs to retrieve cream puffs from the glass display and place them in a box. After she finished, with nothing else to do but wait for my food and drink, she indulged her curiosity once more. "Don't you get scared of getting cut by that?"
Ah yes, casually "getting cut" by a chainsword like you had a mishap with a shaving razor. Such childish innocence was only heightened by the fact that, with her halo, that may be all the injuries she would receive.
"If I'm doing it right," I said with an accommodating smile, "my enemies will be more afraid of that than I am."
"Oh, yeah, that makes sense!" Simple agreements like this were beginner's stuff in conversation, but again: she was new to this. She could do more complicated things later. "Is it true that you charged a tank on your own and cut it in half with that?!"
So begins the questions of my overexaggerated reputation. I sighed. Dissemble once again. "I had help from students engaging the tank, and I split the gun mantlet and hatch apart. No need to downplay or overplay anyone's role."
"But you still charged it and sliced it apart!" she said with awe. I shrugged. Accurate, if simplified, but I certainly won't be the one doing the exaggerating. The telltale beep of the toaster alerted Sora that the heating was done. Soon, plastic bags holding all my items were at the ready. I was paying more than a thousand "yen" for this, which seemed a little expensive until she told me that price amounts were generally always that high. Not that I had any right to complain, I had ludicrous amounts of money in my budget anyway. I swiped my smartphone to digitally transfer payment, and was well on my way.
"Oh, and one more thing!" She took out a small envelope from behind the counter, yet another one of the many, many services the convenience store had. "A letter came for you Sensei! It's from another academy!"
"Really now?" A handwritten letter, sent by post? In a world where most communication was done digitally?
My palms tingled as I received the letter, signed the confirmation form and slowly placed it in the bags. Might as well deal with it later.
"Thank you for shopping at Angel24 Cain-Sensei! Have a good day!" She seemed conflicted, about to add one more. "And, uh…"
I waited for her to finish, not knowing where this was going. A stray thought entered my mind. "How are your financials looking Sora?"
Suddenly surprised by my interest in her personal life, she looked away from me. "O-oh, they're fine!" her hands wrung nervously in front of her. "Just, uh, I'm not getting paid for this because the substituting is so sudden, you know?"
So she was an unpaid intern at 9 years old right now. "Hm. Good day then."
Time to think less and eat more.
—
"Hmmmm… Cream puffs…"
"I'm not going to give them to you while you're asleep, you know?"
"Meanie…" She rubbed her eyes and blinked herself awake, realizing once again that I caught her sleeping. "Ah, Shenshei!" One groggy mispronunciation and shaking herself away later, Arona coughed into her hand and looked around, somehow gleaning that I was in the Schale Office. "G-good morning!"
"Good morning to you too, Arona,." I tried not to sound flat as I replied from my work desk, still unsure of how to talk to her.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" she said with a pout from the tiny screen. "Did you already finish your workout?! I wanted to see!"
A very good reason why I didn't want her to wake up, not wanting thoughts of this strange girl interrupting my quiet solitude of practice, but she didn't need to know that. "Perhaps if you wake up earlier next time." I held up the box of cream puffs I purchased. "Accept this apology?"
She widened her eyes and tried very hard not to look interested. "Wellll… Maybe this one time!"
"Of course," I pretended to smile, trying hard not to lose my mind as said cream puffs suddenly disappeared from my hand and reappeared beside her in the realm of the Shittm Chest, and then disappeared once again as she gorged upon them like a Hive Tyrant.
The Mechanicus and the Imperium have long decried the blasphemous Abominable Intelligence for the havoc they wrought upon mankind, and if only for the sheer confusion she was wreaking upon my mind, I couldn't help but agree with them for Arona's case. She already confirmed herself as the "Operating System" of the Shittm Chest and the degree of personality and independence she demonstrated could only classify her as one of the old AI instead of the stagnant, if dedicated, machine spirits. Trapped she may have been in the tablet, her ability to make use of the devices within SCHALE and the fact that she could digitize physical matter for consumption placed her far above even the most powerful machine spirits. As it turned out, she even did that with me: Whenever I entered the realm of the Chest, I too was brought inside body and soul, leading me to wonder if I'd already been infested with warp energy. I clinically wondered if I could use such a tactic to hide, but she warned me that, for all the durability of the people in the city, the Chest itself was easily destroyed by mere bullets.
A lance of fear spiked through me at the thought, the image of Arona's tablet being perforated with bullet holes distressing me greatly for reasons I didn't know why. I didn't want to wonder what would happen to me if I were destroyed inside, so I threw that tactic in the garbage.
Either way, such materialization feats matched daemons, spawning in and out of the warp and materializing objects and phenomena from the blasted Immaterium for their own evil ends, while entrapping poor souls for eternity. I wondered, deep in my heart, if she was one. And the possibility of it pushed me to distance myself from her.
Making that difficult was that she was a child who was made to assist me, and while acting the part to destroy me later was well within the vile trappings of the Great Enemy (Defaulting, once again, to the Dark Prince as I always have in this world), some instinctive part of me felt that that wasn't right. Trusting my instincts over conscious thought got me to the ripe old age of two centuries I was supposed to be, which was part of the reason I still tried to act decent to her.
The other part? A simple, useful piece of advice: If somebody could kill you or make your life a living hell, don't tempt them to do so. Admittedly it has had mixed results, because it also impressed people enough to send me to solve one bowel-loosening crisis after another, but again: Two centuries.
I watched in morbid fascination as she came down upon more puffs, pausing only to disintegrate the little crumbs of cream and bread left on her mouth. "Ahhh… Cream puffs are beautiful!"
"Quite," I said in honest agreement. I partook of one yesterday and gave her the remaining five, and with six today that made eleven of the sweet pastries. That was enough to make your teeth rot. I'd tire of them quickly if I devoured them in such large amounts, but a single puff or two was enough to stimulate me with a fine hint of sugar and cream.
"Maybe I shouldn't eat too much though," she said hesitatingly, as though she was considering giving up her firstborn child. "I might get fat…"
I blanked out on the idea of a virtual AI being able to get fat from consuming digitized physical matter, and immediately fled from the conversation lest I go mad. "I need to stretch my legs for a bit. Please, continue eating."
"KK!"
As she continued her dessert feast, I sighed and pushed myself off the table, looking down on Kivotos from above.
I'd spent most of my days finding out what I could of this strange city, and every answer, of course, led to more questions and made my head ache.
I originally said that this city wasn't a hive city due to the relative cleanliness of what I saw above. Increasing research into the matter and my experience on the first day led me to see more similarities between the two than I thought.
This city was enormous, easily the size of any hive I'd seen before, in breadth if not in height. Countries on other planets paled to the sheer size of it. The city extended thousands of kloms in any direction you could see, so large that there was a colossal desert on one corner and a damned winter region in another! With the Sanctum Tower easily substituting for a central hive spire, I could easily see in Kivotos a very strange hive, flat and wide instead of layered atop one another.
Despite that contrast, I wondered if the cleanliness above, still so fragile due to its chaotic inhabitants, hid the dangers and malcontents of "underhives" below. Later research would give unpleasant credence to that idea.
Unlike hives however, governance was much more varied. While the General Student Council made decisions that affected the entire city, individual academies, especially the larger ones, generally looked after themselves. Autonomous city states unto their own, with their own organizations for leadership and peacekeeping. Each academy was as different as any world or even guard regiment within the Imperium, with different values, combat doctrines and of course, educational focuses.
Naturally, they were also all led by students.
I remember poring over that little detail several times over, then asking Arona to confirm it for me, then being seriously tempted into giving up for the day. Yes indeed, the students led the schools. Oh, there were faculty and guest lecturers (who weren't very important in the grand scheme of things even), but the ones running the show in this city were students.
This city was run by children! Both individual academies and the General Student Council were filled with members that didn't even reach 18!
But what about teachers, you ask?
That would be the teacher. The Sensei. As in, me.
An academic city. Where there was only one frakking dedicated teacher.
I had to prevent myself from banging my head on the wall. How?! Why?! What madness decreed that teaching wasn't more widespread in an academic city?! I wondered if the Ruinous Powers themselves created this place for the express purpose of driving me mad, which then detoured into extremely unpleasant waters.
I went from thinking of Slaanesh and then drifting over to Tzeentch, the Great Conspirator. Driving people mad with knowledge was in his hat, something that I found disturbingly exact to my own situation, and I started to note with increasing paranoia that while I had faced degenerate Slaaneshi, bloodthirsty Khornates and disgusting Nurglites, I never really had a big go at The One who Planned.
I thought of the President. She staked her entire city on the idea that this one dead commissar would come to her city to save it. She spent huge amounts of resources to prepare for my coming and gave me the tools and authority to take care of it… And then disappeared.
Was she a daemon of Tzeentch herself? Or was she a mere fool who called upon his aid to save her city, and he accepted by granting her a vision of bringing me here in exchange for her own self?
The stray thought extended into a fear that nearly had me hyperventilating. I wondered just how far the Changer of Ways stuck his manipulative hands into my life. Having me go to bat smacking away at the followers of the other Chaos Gods for the sake of the Imperium… All of whom were his rivals. Always being unlucky enough to stumble upon these crises... yet lucky enough to survive every single time and do it again. All the way, unto my death.
That was when I gave up for the day. It took a great force of will to stop that insidious train of thought, retreating to the showers (very, very cold showers) and a night of rest. Unfortunately, that was one night where I just couldn't sleep.
I resumed the next day, hoping to find some form of logic in these answers, and deciding to gamble on finding out about how they actually learned with only a spare reliance on teachers. And of course, I found something that, as usual, only brought more problems.
The autonomy of the city extended to the curriculum of individual academies. While there were general classes as well as quizzes and exams to test the students, much emphasis was focused on the students' individual expression. Students were encouraged to form clubs and expand their own interests, with everything from practical pursuits such as Engineering to recreational pastimes such as Sports, or even special interests such as a strange After-School Sweets Club. Notably, important organizations such as the peacekeeping forces of the Justice Task Force and the Prefect Team, and even school administration such as Seminar, were considered clubs. But with all this time, how DID students learn?
It was here that some semblance of sense came unto me. Education was indeed done mostly digitally, using Blu-Rays to teach students basic subjects such as math, science and languages, supplemented by books. Inadvertently, it was here I found out the reason for the widespread use of firearms.
Among these were the Tactical Training Blu-Rays and the Technical Notes. As it turned out, basic education in this city included proper usage of firearms, rudimentary battle tactics and the general combat doctrines of each school. Each academy was required to create a basic battlefield doctrine for their students to learn, and put them into the Blu-Rays and Technical Notes.
There was more. Firing drills and simulated combat were graded exams in every school, even those less militarily inclined. The larger academies even held scrimmages that graded simulated combat between schools and joint firing drills where students were forced to cooperate with those from other academies to face unusual battle scenarios. Optionally, there were even tactical challenges where students from different academies could choose to form teams in order to take down other student teams for special rewards such as money and extra credit.
This was part of why my squad was able to quickly grasp my impromptu lessons on battlefield tactics despite being so young, and then quickly overwhelmed most of our enemies: Many of our enemies were delinquents and dropouts, ignoring their lessons to go on their own, while mine still trained well in the academies.
This focus on individuality combined with universal education of gunplay did have its downsides. The violence in the city was evidence of that. But the abilities displayed by Wakamo and Hasumi demonstrated exactly how they could be worth it.
Very likely, every single one of these haloed students were born as passive psykers. Not latent ones, with no activated power ready to come to the fore. Rather, the students would universally be granted enhanced durability as the base set of powers by their halos. Then while the academies would mold students' usage of firearms and weapons according to their specific battlefield doctrines, the students would choose their own paths, and then these powers would be expressed in various means.
I wondered if said powers could even affect technology. Were the powers of Yuuka's energy shield and Suzumi's flashbangs, or even Chinatsu's medical tools entirely due to science and technology, or did their warp powers enhance these tools beyond their normal effectiveness?
That still left a different question. Why then, such a huge focus on combat? It was there that I clung to the familiar.
This world may be filled with xenos, abhumans and AI, but it was startlingly similar to humanity. A 24 hour day cycle with a sun and moon, incredibly similar to Holy Terra. The traditional twelve month calendar of the standard Terran year. Human sensibilities in construction and clothing, extending to even the cats, dogs and robots. While building their education around developing individual psyker powers, the main form of combat relied on using stub and auto weapons alongside armored fighting vehicles, old weapons of humankind. There was advanced technology such as a matter replicating Crafting Chamber and a selectively reality warping AI, contrasting with a reliance on simple steel, iron and even concrete, not rockrete as I originally assumed. More research even led me to find out that ruins dotted the lands, even near schools. And histories about these ruins were very tellingly lost.
Ironically, these lost records gave me an idea. A story to tell.
Perhaps, in times long past, this was a colony of humanity, one not yet reclaimed by the Imperium. Perhaps it was such an old time that the "Abominable Intelligence" was not so abominable, still toiling for the sake of the people. Perhaps it was a colony devoted to making combat psykers, or some other part of the war machine. Experiments abound, leading to several abhumans being born here.
And then, perhaps war, or some other disaster. One that reduced an advanced civilization to nothing, having to rely on ancient materials. Interbreeding, because when you wanted to survive you weren't very picky, leading to students with wings, ears and tails. Acceptance of the AI, because they were helping instead of hurting, so the utter rejection of them in the Imperium never came about here. Defaulting back to their "academic" ways in order to bring some semblance of order and civilization once more.
These were just guesses and theories. But the story I spun would not be the first. Colonies of mankind separated from the embrace of the Imperium were often rediscovered across the galaxy, with the conditions of the planets changing the inhabitants. Take the Ogryn: born on heavy gravity prison colony worlds, baseline humans that evolved over millennia of conflict to become powerful but pitiful subspecies of mankind. Then there were the Afriel Strains, homo sapiens maledictis: An attempt by the Mechanicus to create the ultimate humans using the blood and genes of old heroes. They were indeed better than us in many ways save their unnaturally horrible luck that often led to their untimely, massed demises. Perhaps these girls were similar, except these girls survived due to their superhuman endurance.
And perhaps all this was just a load of bunk made to make me feel better. Bring this to the Munitorium, the Ordo Xenos, the Ordo Scriptorum or anyone else, I was no historian or researcher. Then again, who else will I ask for any of this?
"Sensei? Are you alright?"
I started upon hearing the voice, and then I looked back to the table. I couldn't see her expression, but the worry in her voice made me sigh. I wouldn't have been able to gain so much information without her guidance. She didn't need to be burdened by any of these thoughts, benevolent or not. And I'd like to believe she was. "I'm fine, Arona. Just thinking of what to do next."
"Oh, OK." After a brief pause as I made my way back to the desk. "Well, I've been scanning online to look for what to do, and there are a lot of people curious about SCHALE! They're wondering what you're going to do first!"
Arona could analyze general public opinion about me due to the city's internet. A form of digital networking called "Social Media" had become popular in the city, where people would sign up on websites that allowed them to connect with large numbers of people. Aside from interaction and amusement, companies and large organizations would make official accounts and then use these accounts to make announcements.
So it was with me. I made a SCHALE account for the premier social service, MomoTalk (Peach Talk, apparently), and my only post there so far is about asking for a one week grace period before taking requests. Somehow, I've managed to break three digits on followers due to reputation gained from apparently saving the city, confirmation by my high-ranking mutual acquaintances (all of my first squad were followers of the account, and others who followed them found me) and that blasted interview.
"We could contact the GSC and start asking for work from them!" Arona suggested.
"Perhaps," I acknowledged. It wouldn't be the worst idea. Since we just started, they'd probably give us something relatively easy (and still detrimental to my well-being) to do. "But for now, I will deal with this."
The letter. The tingling in my palms told me to save it for last. From the details on the envelope, it was from the "Abydos High School", sent the day after my arrival in this city by express mail. I took a letter opener, cut open the envelope and unfolded the important message inside.
To the Advisor of the Independent Federal Investigation Club.
Hello. My name is Okusora Ayane, and I'm a student at Abydos High School. I'm writing this letter because I want to ask for your help.
Our academy is being harassed. One of the local gangs has been tormenting us.
It's a long story, but we think they're after the building itself. The students are doing their best to stop them. It's only a matter of time we run out of ammunition and supplies and we lose our school.
We need you Sensei. Can you please come?
"... Arona, what information can you give me about Abydos?" I asked without looking at her, my voice flat.
"Abydos?" After a small pause, she gave me what I needed. "It used to be one of the most powerful academies, but due to climate change, it's fallen on hard times. It's still one of the largest districts in the entire city."
I took my smartphone and opened up my MomoTalk app. "Has it lost connection to the network?" I continued without changing my tone.
"It hasn't. They can still make calls and search for information online." She tilted her head in confusion. "... In fact, Okusora Ayane is following you on MomoTalk."
I checked my followers and sure enough, there she was: A simple, black-haired, yellow-eyed little girl with a uniform as plain as they came. The only unusual things about her were the butterfly pin tying part of her hair in a braid, her red-framed glasses and pointed ears that I desperately assumed to be abhuman rather than Eldar. Her halo was a red outer ring encircling a stylized crosshair. Her profile matched up, listing that she was a 15-year old first year from Abydos, part of the oddly named "Foreclosure Task Force".
"She never even bothered to raise a request. I wonder why?"
A topical question. Why indeed did she bother writing a letter? These students were from a slowly dying academy. If I were to believe them, their supplies were running out, and the school was under siege from gangs trying to gain supremacy over the district.
And despite all of that, she never bothered to communicate with me otherwise. No telephone call. No texts. No messages online.
Just a letter that would come four days after saying they desperately needed help. A letter that was not guaranteed a reply, especially since I graciously asked for one week without requests.
I looked up at the ceiling and prayed to the Emperor for strength. I couldn't very well abandon these kids as a "heroic" Sensei now, could I? People would talk about that.
"Arona?"
"Yes Sensei?"
I stood up to begin preparations. "Prepare to lock down the office, the basement and my quarters, and open the building to the public. We have our first mission."
—
The helicopter would be arriving soon. I had my bag packed with personal supplies of 3 days of rations, a spare laspistol with the additional power packs I had recreated and changes of clothes. I was dressed in my usual outfit, and so long as we weren't going to the wider desert hopefully I wouldn't need much more. Before I left, I did have one last destination to go to.
"Ah, welcome to Angel24 Cain-Sensei!" The little shopkeeper greeted me. Her gaze then went to the bag on my shoulders. "What's all that for?"
"I have my first mission. A helicopter will pick me up soon enough," I informed her, to her utter shock. "After I leave, you can tell people that the building will be open to the public, just as I will make the announcement online. You may tell people that you talked to me and that I left early due to a grave emergency at Abydos, if you wish."
"O-oh! OK! I will!" That would give her stories to tell among the customers at least, while also adding to her popularity. Perhaps she might not need help in that regard given that she was a 9 year old shopkeep, but every little bit helped.
"Any other news?" I said, making one last attempt to fish for information.
"Oh yeah, I was just told that I'm getting paid for my shift right now!" Sora added happily. "It was all of a sudden too! Said that they managed to squeeze in a bit more money to pay me!"
"Very good," I said, satisfied at that little extra commissarial check up that I did upstairs. It was rather simple finding the company phone number and making extra sure they got a little more creative with their budget. Familiarity was in short supply, so I would like to see her here more. Time to settle one last loose end. "I would like a box of meat buns for my last purchase. There may be an extended stay." I had just one more purchase on my loyalty card. It was going to nag me if it wasn't completed.
"Alright! You've filled up your card, Cain-Sensei! What'll you add?"
"Half as many buns again."
"You got it!" As she took my payment and accepted my purchase, I realized that it was time to go.
"It'll be a while before we see each other again, so take care of yourself Sora." I didn't have much time. I had to make my way up.
"Cain-Sensei!"
That was unusually loud. I stopped and looked back with a raised eyebrow.
"You've… Really been a big help to me here you know? It's only thanks to you that I still have this job." She was forcing herself through her nerves with gratitude. "If you treat your students that way you treat me, I'm sure you'll be able to help them out just fine!"
I wasn't sure what to think of her gratitude. I was just using her as another anchor in this confusing world. Trying not to feel so guilty for taking advantage of her, I gave a shaky reply. "You're welcome. I can only hope I can give them the proper aid."
"Good luck Sensei! I hope you come back to Angel24!"
I was certainly going to need that luck, so I accepted the well-wish with grace as I left the room, dreading my first job.
If I had known just how awful it would become, I would've used that letter as a laspistol target and stayed in my bed till the week was over.
*Chapter 4: Internal Investigation, END*
40K viewers should know that Sora in the beginning already started working for Angel24 a bit before the criminal uprising, but I moved her start to a later date to put a little more interaction between her and Cain. That stuff about keeping SCHALE secret and the Tactical Training? Cobbled together from various story and gameplay elements. Yes, canonically, Sensei is quite possibly the only dedicated teacher in an academic city. Barring faculty and guest lecturers, schools DO mostly teach by Blu-Ray, and gameplay-wise you strengthen your students using Tactical Training Blu-Rays and Tech Notes that "teach the secrets of each school".
The Crafting Chamber? In the game, it make all sorts of growth materials, even makes furniture and also makes OOPARTS.
Aka Out of Place Artifacts.
Which most certainly includes potentially centuries or even millenia old wargear.
And thus did I turn this thing into basically a matter replicator, but very secret.
My idea for this chapter being "Internal Investigation" is expanding outward. First, Cain sees the weird stuff about himself. Then he sees the weird stuff about SCHALE. Finally, he sees the weird stuff about Kivotos and after it's all over, he's called to go out of SCHALE and start investigating weird stuff personally.
My second is familiarity. Because he's so stressed from being dropped in here, Cain tries to keep looking for familiar patterns and routines to cling to, which is why he forcibly distances himself away from Arona for sword practice, always keeps checking out the convenient store and literally tries to theorycraft Kivotos' ancient history to fit 40K better. Is that necessarily correct? Maybe... Maybe not.
Finally, well, it's Cain. He may poo poo about it, but he really is nicer than he lets on. So he really can't resist helping out when it's easy, and will only give... well, more resistance to helping if it's hard. But he'll do it if he feels like he's forced, and he suspiciously ALWAYS feels like he's forced.
I'm pretty proud of this one. I hope you were OK with a peek into Cain's first days here as an exposition break. Next time, we deal with the pitfalls of MASSIVE DEBT. See you then!
