Day 31

Tide wandered through the minds of a thousand tech-priests, studying their thoughts, feelings, memories, personalities, everything that made them who they were. Some were more mechanical than others, with brains that had been cut apart and attached to additional processors that let them think faster, allowed them to make calculations at a speed even the greatest mathematicians would be incapable of. Others had modified their bodies but left their minds untouched, some simply because they had not yet had the chance to do so, others because they saw their minds as something granted to them by the Machine God and thus sacred.

These were the candidates he was considering per Vidriov's request. It had taken him a matter of moments to determine that Vidriov would be receptive to working alongside him, though that had taken an unexpected form with Vidriov's belief he was some agent of the Machine God.

There were others he could see would take that same road if he revealed himself to them. He had no issues with working alongside the religious, even the fanatics, so long as they did not cause others to suffer. However, he did not want to be worshipped either and was painfully aware of the risk of these tech-priests not only all coming to the same conclusion, but also finding each other and reassuring themselves of that conclusion. Enough that they might create a cult around him.

That was in no one's interests.

The thousand or so tech-priest candidates were of a variety of ranks, stations, and specializations, all of which related to some kind of technology Tide would like to see… expanded upon. There were plenty of others outside the candidates who would be receptive to him, but these were the high-value targets, so to speak.

The reason he was taking his time was to try and minimize the risks of creating someone fanatically devoted to him. He did not desire blind faith. Loyalty, perhaps, but not towards himself as much as towards… Well, he hadn't quite figured that out yet either.

What 'cause' would they be fighting for? No, fighting was the wrong word. He doubted he'd let any of them fight for him, he had puppet soldiers and pure forms for that. What cause would they be working for?

Tide had long ago, well, it was more like a few weeks prior, decided not to run or try to escape the galaxy, but to try and heal the universe. It was a tall order and hilariously ironic if one knew even the slightest bit about what kind of monster the Flood really was, but what did it entail?

Well, he would have to defeat Chaos. No big deal, he just had to find a way to destroy or otherwise render powerless four beings that were widely considered gods and at the very least had the power to back up that title. Similarly, the Tyranids would have to go and the C'tan likely as well.

But… where did that leave everyone else in the galaxy? What did his idea of total victory look like?

He wasn't sure. There were plenty of routes he could take, each with their own problems and benefits. The real question of each of them was, at its core… how much did he interact with people?

Did he take a leading role in questions of governance, determining and, more specifically, enforcing laws? Did he act as some moral authority to keep people from committing the worst kinds of horrific crimes that delighted the Chaos Gods and wounded the universe itself? Did he not interact at all and simply reveal himself to a select few as he had thus far?

Tide returned his focus to the task at hand. Regardless of the shape the future took, whether he achieved victory or not, he had to believe it would be better than if he simply chose to abandon everything.

He considered his options. He could approach them all at once, if he wished, he had the biomass to accomplish such a task at this point relatively easy.

He would approach a few of them, he decided, the ones that he could convince fairly swiftly. He was somewhat amused that one of those tech-priests he'd selected was in service to the Sisters of Battle, the most fanatical of the God-Emperor's servants. But then, he was already in the process of helping several Sisters with their issues, so he supposed it was only natural that Logis Calarn would be next.

"I'ZE DA BIGGEST!" Gutta Shankgutz roared, holding the head of Dagga Goreteef, only for his own head to be snipped off from behind by the power klaw of Nobrot Facesplitta, who was in turn shredded by the shoota of Headmangla Runtpunta.

"I'ZE DA-!" Headmangla started to roar to the crowd of gathered Orks, cheering and hooting for the bloodshed, only for him to be cut short as the fighting pit within the circle of wrecks that made up their arena exploded.

Blood sprayed across the crowd, with bits of limbs and debris sent flying into several at high speeds, killing plenty. Those that remained cheered louder as the one who'd fired the blast walked, or rather stomped forward.

Bonesmasha Skraploota was the shootiest Ork that ever was, or so he claimed. He was certainly the one lugging around the most firepower among this sorry gathering of gits, owing to having been entombed within one of the few Deff Dreads that had been brought with Grinhide's WAAAGH! The Deff Dread's kannon that had just reduced several of the largest remaining Orks for kilometers around to so much red and green paste lowered, though only slightly, while Skraploota's twin power klaws snipped and sparked and his deffgun whined in a way that had the nearest Boys taking several steps back.

"I'ZE DA BIGGEST!" Skraploota proclaimed and no one stepped forward to challenge that. "I'ZE DA SMARTEST!" If anyone was smarter, they were smart enough to keep their traps shut as well. "I'ZE DA BOSS NOW!"

Murmurs among the gathered Orks soon turned into chants. "BONESMASHA! BONESMASH! BONESMASHA!"

From within his Deff Dread, Skraploota grinned a grin of violence, of greed, and of brutal cunning.

Cass slowed her breathing, one hand resting against the wall as she tried to steady herself. The endless corridors swirled around her. She saw Brunt reach out to her with his good hand, but she pushed his hand away.

"Stay… still," She said, swallowing her own bile, feeling it burn her throat. In her other hand, she held his limp arm, the sleeve of his shirt torn away, an ugly trio of red slashes digging through his flesh. The monster that had slashed it open laid a few feet away, riddled with autogun rounds.

"Don't push yourself," Brunt said and she shook her head, instantly regretting it as her vision swam.

"S'fine," She whispered, even as she swayed on her feet. He reached out again and this time she didn't push him away as he wrapped his good arm around her, holding her upright. She rested her head against his arm and, slowly, they both sunk to a sitting position. "We… We can't stay here."

"I know," Brunt said, but he did not try to move her. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened, trying to get her bearings back. She focused on his face.

He'd never been clean shaven, but now he was on his way to growing an actual beard now. Even with that hair covering his face, she could still make out the slight strain in his eyes, the tightening of his jaws. He was hiding the pain his arm caused him, she was sure.

She grabbed the cloth that had once been his sleeve. She'd already cleaned the wound, at least as much as anything could be cleaned in the bowels of a hive city and she saw him wince as she wrapped it tightly about him, the dull cloth darkening even further as it soaked up blood like a man dying of thirst drank water.

"Too… tight?" She asked between panted breaths. He shook his head.

Slowly, the world seemed to right itself and the pounding in her head faded.

"Better?" He asked, as though he weren't the one who'd been hurt.

"Better," She nodded. "Don't… be so reckless."

"I won't," He apologized. She hugged him, mindful of his wounded arm, and he wrapped his good one around her shoulders again, drawing her in tight. He kissed her atop her head.

"We'll get through this," she whispered. It was a lie, they both knew, but it was nice to hear it said.

The sound of screeches echoed down the corridors and their moment of respite ended. Neither could be sure if the sounds were nearby or had been bounced around for kilometers, but nor did they wish to find out.

"Up we go," She said and they both helped the other to their feet. With only one arm he could reliably use, they would have to leave one of their two autoguns behind, though Cass made sure to take the ammunition before they made their way down the corridor. Perhaps they could find a handgun for Brunt to use, she told herself, though she wondered if it would make a difference.

She wondered if it wouldn't be better to just… She cut off her line of thought before it could continue, unwilling to even consider that. Life for the both of them had been a struggle to survive since when they were born. They hadn't lost the will to live then and had found one another to find refuge in.

She forced herself to grin and Brunt noticed her expression. "Something funny?" He asked, not able to help the small chuckle that came out of his own lips at the sign of her glee.

"Just remembering how that monster's head went pop," She said and he gave a short laugh.

"Heh, yeah." He made a popping sound with his lips and she gave her own chuckle.

She had no idea why either of them found the sound funny. It just was.

Aliciel laid on her back on a sandy beach, staring up at the sun. Her eyes should have hurt, should have been strained by the brightness, but she felt nothing save the warmth of its light on her face combined with the gentle wind.

She had been here for… years, she thought. It felt like years, in any case. Idling away time in a way she never had before, had never been allowed to before. She had seen the sun dip below the horizon and the stars come out to dance through the sky a thousand times and more, yet the beauty of it never failed to stir her heart. A heart that she'd thought had been rendered cold and indifferent to such wonders for close to fifty years.

Distantly, she heard the whine of a shuttle's engine and she became aware of someone lying next to her, someone whose face she'd never seen but who she had come to know quite well over the years.

You're content here and now. I am glad, but there is still pain in you.

She nodded, sighing. She had put this off for years and he had allowed it, never forcing the issue. What 'he' was had never been clear to her. He had never named himself, assuming he even was a he, but she had never felt daemonic malice from his being. Nor had she felt any indications of the God-Emperor's light within him.

He was… something else. A third party. Something grey that had infringed upon her world of black and white. Not a servant of the God-Emperor, but also not wicked, as she had been taught all things not touched by His divinity were.

"Am I ready?" She asked, uncertainty trickling through her.

I am not the one who can answer that question.

He paused, waiting for her to speak. If she said no, if she said 'not today', he would recede and return again tomorrow. Of this, she was certain, because she had said 'not today' every day before now and he had departed every time. He was patient. Eternal, she thought.

"Yes," Aliciel finally said, closing her eyes.

She felt the water of the ocean rise and sweep her out into the sea.

When she opened her eyes, Aliciel stared up into the starry sky of Gulrac, as a star fell from a sky, burning a path downwards. She could hear its distant roar, or perhaps imagined it.

Her body moved on its own, acting as it had that night. She swam as fast as she could back to her village, but her limbs, so short and weak, would never be fast enough to beat the shuttle. She wondered if she should have tried so hard, knowing what was to come. Part of her wanted her body to stop, to swim away. She knew if she tried, she would be allowed that.

Nonetheless, she continued onwards, unwilling to back down. She reached the shore and rose out of the water. She tried to run to her village, but she was already tired and the water her clothes had gathered weighed her down. By the time she arrived, the shuttle had been there for a while already.

She rememberd that craft perfectly and it stood out sharply in her memory and here and now. Its hull was the color of blood and emlazoned with golden symbols she didn't recognize back then, save for the Imperial Aquilla displayed most prominently on its wings. The craft possessed additional decoration in the form of a golden eagle's head that took up most of the prow, the ostentatious design continuing along its length so that the wings of the ship looked like the wings of the eagle. Emerging from the opened beak at the front was the shuttle's rotary lascannon.

Almost as prominent as the Aquilla was another symbol, that of a flower of some kind, as blood red as the shuttle. She also saw it on the armor of the women who stepped off the shuttle craft.

She'd thought them angels at first, but these were no Space Marines. They called out names, other children of the village, and demanded they step forward. She remembered not understanding what was happening as she was ushered forward by her terrified parents. She recalled asking one of the women in armor, who barked for her to be silent and obedient. She had been, even when they herded her and the rest onto the shuttlecraft, packing them in tight in its cargo hold.

She had never been on a shuttlecraft before that, never even seen one. She did not understand what was happening, none of them had. Some started to cry, but the women demanded they stop. One child hadn't and one of the women had taken hold of his hair and slammed his skull into the bulkhead. Not enough to kill him, though that would have been a horrifically easy task as she would come to learn, but enough to stun him and stop his tears, if only for a little while.

They had been loud, demanding, and explained nothing to any of them about what was happening or where they were being taken, only claiming that they should be grateful for the honor that had been bestowed upon them without saying what that honor was or why. Questions were punished, anything besides silence was. Each of them had learned quickly how to keep their sobbing quiet, how to keep the tears from falling and hold them in.

Aliciel had not been grateful until much later, when that gratitude had been beaten and carved into her. She'd looked back on these memories and seen them as a time when she'd been weak, worthless, unable to comprehend that the God-Emperor had chosen the children of her village for great works.

The shuttle came to a stop after what could have been hours, shuddering as it landed. She and the rest of the children had been ushered or shoved out of the craft. Suddenly, the first child to depart the shuttle screamed in terror, receiving a gauntleted cuff to the head for his terror from one of the women. The scream had come from looking out of the hangar of a great warship into the depths of space and upon a great, blue-green something that seemed to be floating there.

Only later would Aliciel learn that that had been the last time she would ever see Gulrac, her home, and her family.

They were herded like the cattle some of the villagers raised, pushed into a vast labyrinth of metal corridors covered in strange decorations. What she thought were rugs hung from the walls. Some depicted images of women similar to the ones who had taken them fighting terrible creatures that could not have been human, winning each time. There were others that showed men and women being burned alive atop pyres. The smoke the flames produced seemed to have eyes and fangs and claws and she'd shuddered at the sight.

Finally, they were shoved into a vast chamber, filled with hundreds of other children, some crying, others sitting quietly with their arms wrapped around their legs, dead eyes staring at nothing.

Suddenly, one of the women shouted and Aliciel turned to see one of the children from her group bolting away down the corridor. One of the armored women raised their weapon, a strange tool she had never seen before that had something like a match lit on the muzzle. Aliciel drew back at the memory, a coldness growing through her that made her shiver in fear.

She had forgotten this part. She had forgotten for a reason.

STOP! Aliciel screamed into her mind and the world froze to a halt, the figures and the battleship fading away in a moment, but the memories were still strong in her own mind. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to stop herself from remembering what had happened, what the women had done, but it was impossible.

"I'm not ready, I'm not ready," Aliciel wept into her arms as she curled into a fetal position, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry…"

You have nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong.

His presence was like a warm blanket wrapping around her.

"They…" Aliciel started to speak, but choked on her words. "They…"

I know.

For a while, Aliciel said nothing else, the only sound her quiet sobbing.