**Author's note: Three chapters in one this week! We're now in the endgame. Thanks for reading this far if you're still here! Depending how the editing goes, we're 2-3 chapters away from this arc's conclusion. Also, I like to think that Langwidere's "vibe" is somewhat close to Debbie Jellinsky from the Addams Family Values movie.**
Alarms blared on the bridge of the Grandiloquent Abundance as the massive fleet of savage Necron Flayers and their greed-maddened Nome cousins transitioned out of hyperspace a touch too close to the star of the system they had been drawn to. Two other Harvest Ships and a swarm of lesser crescent-shaped gunners banked madly in a close slingshot, perilously close to the star as they followed the chaotic movements of the jeweled Nome capitol ship. At their tactical command, the Nome King had given the mingled fleet of Nomes and Flayers instructions for this dangerous maneuver. He hadn't actually told his brother what he had planned, intending it to be a "surprise" to cheer the dour Fallen Lord up.
Valgûl, once again, was very upset with his brother. "Too close! You ordered them to pass too close to that star! I don't want to lose more vessels, Roquat!" the Fallen Lord scolded the recumbent jewel-encrusted metal king as he lounged on his throne, smiling and unconcerned as he watched his glowing staff. The mad king even puffed on his pipe, mimicking the action of breath with his lungless chest. In Roquat's mind, he enjoyed the taste his favorite premium smoking herb as he confidently oversaw yet another grand military campaign. Ah, it was great to be alive and conquering the galaxy again with his beloved family! War was always ever so thrilling!
Alerts screamed warnings that two small crescent-shaped gunners had been destroyed by this action as the giant Necron fleet frantically turned about, close enough to graze the corona of the star, and reeling against its gravity. None of this seem to bother the Nome King, who lounged on his throne, seemingly blissfully unaware of their perilous situation. The Fallen Lord continued to stand before his brother's throne, absolutely furious. "Why have you ordered this insanity? Have you gone mad?" Valgûl shouted his angry complaints before he remembered that he was speaking to his brother, who was most certainly mad. A tactical genius when he had known him millions of years ago, but still utterly mad. Nearby, Valgûl's personal lychguards yowled with bestial ferocity, cursing their red-cloaked cousins in nearly incoherent metal growls. The short-tempered Nomes on the bridge were also beginning to become impatient with their semi-sentient and exceedingly famished Flayer cousins, with more than a few swearing that their flesh-starved kin were no better than wild beasts.
Roquat did not hear these curses, as he remained occupied with staring at his staff once again while smoking his pipe, his luminous green eyes wide with childlike curiosity. The imprisoned C'tan shard within the staff's orb had begun to glow with a beguiling watery brilliance when their massive Necron war fleet had approached the world of Ev, their final destination. Ev was where both his stolen belt, and the hated vessel of Gir'Auda lay hiding. Conveniently, Ev was also the location of a few of his treasure caches, one of which had been pilfered from very recently. But, that was okay. Now that their fleet was here, there was no way the fleshy thief was getting off world to enjoy their spoils! No, no! This made Roquat smile broadly, as he knew that his justice would soon be served.
The Nome King continued to stare, still utterly deaf to his brother's protests. The Nome King blinked as he continued to study the orb at the end of his staff. He could have sworn that he had just seen an alien cityscape within the staff's light, but before he could confirm what he had witnessed, the vision within the artifact winked away. Could it be that the thief who possessed his magic belt was now learning how to use the artifact, or was he just seeing things? Irritated, Roquat then struck the side of the orb containing the C'tan shard with his metal hand in a crude attempt to jostle the vision back into appearing, which it did not.
"Damn you, Roquat! Once again, you aren't even listening!" Valgûl stormed ahead to stand before his mad brother directly. "I demand to know why you ordered this reckless maneuver!"
"Relax, brother. All is well! Such anger and anxiety is not good for your soul. Take deep breaths!" the Nome King finally replied with a languid stretch, finally tearing his attention away from his staff and placing his smoking pipe down. "I thought you'd enjoy a bit of a surprise! This daring stellar stunt is part of a very clever trick I picked up in my many years of early wakefulness when I watched other Overlords conquer alien worlds. I've always wanted to try it with a big fleet!"
"This is all a stunt?! You used my vessels to satiate an insane whim, Roquat?" Valgûl replied, outraged. Another gunner was reported lost, and the Fallen Lord clenched his fists, beginning to lose his temper. "I've lost multiple ships, brother!"
Before the Fallen Lord could begin screaming rudely again, Roquat stood up with a dramatic swirl of his tinkling ruby cape. "This star slingshot, you see, is a very clever maneuver for a conquering fleet! Yes, I put the command in to pass close to the star in this manner. With a large enough fleet, we can cause gravitational perturbations and solar flares through proximity! The inner worlds of this system will now experience electromagnetic storms and earthquakes, softening up any defenses, and-"
"I don't want everyone dead before we arrive, you mad fool!" Valgûl moaned. "My people hunger for fresh meat and tender living skin to feast upon, not flesh charred by a solar flash!" The alarms began to calm, and now, the fleet had slowed enough to allow them to stabilize their orbit somewhere around the orbit of the first planet of this system.
"Fear not, my ever-hungry brother! These particular solar storms caused by our arrival will only succeed in causing various failures of their technology for a short time. These failures are contingent on how well shielded everything is against outside disturbances. And, the quakes the inner planets are no doubt currently experiencing are not world-ending, even if we are! I'm just softening them up for us! Tenderizing the flesh for your hungry people! You know, you could be more appreciative, Valgûl. I set all this up to give you good cheer! I thought it would be a nice surprise!" Roquat's mouth twisted into a dramatic expression of pouty sadness.
One of the Fallen Lord's lychguards began to shake and gnash his metal jaws as he stood near his monarch. Valgûl watched the hungry Flayer, and remarked, "We need to feed soon."
"Yes, yes. You need your special dinner feast and your people wish to engage in that costume party thing they like doing. Of course they will have their traditions and fun, but I would also like to shatter Gir'Auda and retrieve my belt, remember. Speaking of that, let us discover what the world of Ev looks like now! I haven't been here in some time."
The Nome King walked to the fore of the bridge, and the Fallen Lord followed him. Attended to by busy Crypteks and a handful of skilled helmsmen, a line of broad holographic screens were swiftly constructing models and images of the world they planned to assault. Chief Steward Kaliko stood nearby, passively observing the two monarchs with his single watchful eye.
The planet of Ev was a moderate sized life-bearing world populated mostly by independently-aligned humans. It apparently had a sizeable population. A half a billion fleshy bodies populated the world in only a handful of city-states, and it actually appeared mostly pristine and untouched aside from these mega-cities. Initial cursory scans were now reporting that it had a very weak or even nonexistent military, and no defensive spacecraft, making it quite the easy target all the way out here away form the protective embrace of the human Imperium. Gir'Auda couldn't immediately be seen, so more comprehensive scans were required, or the legendary vessel was currently situated somewhere on the night side of the planet. The Nome King's magic staff confirmed to him that the hated Equerry was near, so he knew he was in the right place.
"No defensive military?" Valgûl asked behind Roquat's shoulder as he observed the long row of holograms. The Fallen Lord began to coldly laugh.
One of the Nomish Crypteks answered. "No, it appears not, my lord." More scans continued to paint a picture of the local system. The world appeared to have innumerable small asteroids that orbited it in a messy cloud, though, which was quite odd. "My observation is that this world appears ripe for conquering, if I can s-"
The bridge shook, and more alarms began to blare. An explosive hit had damaged their shields on the fore of the Grandiloquent Abundance!
"What?!" Valgûl demanded. "No military, indeed! We're under attack!"
"This isn't from any void ship or artillery fire, my lord," the Cryptek replied. With a flicker, holographic models of innumerable spherical constructs now appeared before the two brothers. "This system contains an expansive minefield. The world of Ev itself is surrounded by a thick shell of particularly sophisticated orbital mines, and the entire area of the four inner planets also contain sporadic mines that are rigged to chase after hostile forces! We just hit one!"
Valgûl glared at Roquat, who cleared his breathless throat dismissively. "Human technology is primitive. I'm sure it was nothing, and that our shields deflected it."
"This one has been deflected by our shields, yes sire, but there are many, many more mines lurking here, and they are now drifting along the solar tides, and are now becoming drawn by our gravity. Once we further approach Ev-"
Another shaking rumble interrupted them.
"Once we are upon our target world, the minefield becomes denser and far more perilous. These near-world mines utilize remarkable Empyreal technologies and other constructions that are atypical of cumbersome human craftsmanship. These sophisticated mines are actually quite dangerous, which is quite a surprise. Because of this, it is suggested that we approach the world far above, and enter high orbit as we dismantle this more dangerous minefield with our weaponry. We will certainly trigger some lesser inter-planetary mines as we go, but not enough to severely damage our vessels. I stress again that we need to keep away from the more sophisticated mines that lurk directly above Ev."
"I highly doubt any human technology is dangerous to us," Valgûl sniffed, not accepting the Cryptek's report. "We have two of my Harvest Ships and we ride upon Roquat's Grandiloquent Abundance. This is overwhelming doom for any primitive human world against our people, even with the full might of the Imperium aiding them. What could these particular mines possibly do to defend this pathetic world?"
"We will continue to scan and study them, but from a cursory scan, it appears that they may utilize the creation of momentary tears into the Empyrean, and using other gravimetric technologies, they may be able to essentially draw any nearby matter within them. This is simply my supposition though, my lords, but I'm confident in my calculations to advise that we should stay far away from the near-planet minefield until it is neutralized."
"If I am understanding correctly, a hit from one of these particular mines would draw us into the Empyrean? Truly?" Valgûl replied incredulously. The Fallen Lord reached up with his long bladed metal fingers, and clutched his chin thoughtfully. "Remarkable. Maybe the humans contracted a more intelligent race to build this defense grid, for this seems to be beyond the capability of their inept manufacturers. When we conquer, I wish to find who specifically was responsible for the construction of these terrible weapons, and I will require that they work for us."
"That's sounds like a good idea, brother," Roquat chirped. "Anyway, if they have no active military and no outside Imperial help coming to aid them, then all we have to do is to dismantle the minefield from a distance. Afterward, your people are free to feast and have their little costume party, I'll be able to take revenge on my thieves, and we even get to shatter Gir'Auda too! And, as we do all this, the world below is struck with earthquakes and ongoing solar storms! Simple, right? It's like it all works out, right brother? Fate feels like it's on our side!"
The Grandiloquent Abundance was struck again by another mine, this one jostling the bridge so harshly that two nearby Nomes fell in a heap beside the chattering monarchs. Each unbalanced Necron then accused the other of starting fights, and soon enough, both were brawling. This entire scene was so common that it was completely ignored by the Overlord brothers as they discussed their invasion of Ev on the bridge.
Nearby, the Chief Steward continued to observe the chaotic scene. Kaliko cringed at the thought that their highly disorganized forces even considered that they'd be able to shatter a construct from the damn War in Heaven, but he did not voice his concerns to his mentally unstable monarch. Kaliko even found himself hoping for more unexpected forces to assail them, as one day, it stood reason to believe that the Nome King would make a mistake that he would not be able to walk back, and then, Kaliko himself would be the new King of the Nomes.
A wandering Flayer then joined the brawl on the floor between both maddened Nomes, apparently confusing the distinctive red cloaks the two fighting Nomes wore as bloody swaths of skin. Even with their incredible forces, this was going to be a difficult invasion, the Chief Steward thought, slouching his metal shoulders.
Elsewhere:
"We have confirmation of the existence of two Scythe-class Harvest Ships with one larger gemstone-encrusted Harvest Ship variant, and nine Khopesh-Class Light Cruisers, Magos. Under this, many dozens of light support gunners and transport vessels trail this fleet. The fleet appears to have translated from xenos-tech-based hyperspace between the orbit of Fire Island and the sun, which they are currently behind. In addition, it also appears that their close solar pass has caused the loss of a handful of light gunners and at least one transport support craft," the adept informed both Null and Magos Amee with a short bow as the group stood over the body of a suffering young psyker man who lay strapped to a gurney.
None of the other tech-priests surrounding the morbid scene moved or spoke, all too stunned from this new information. The armored room briefly shook, and the distant swearing of a skitarii filled the air. The rogue governor's forces had been pummeling the Tower of Reason for over two hours now as the tech-priests of the remote Adeptus Mechanicus outpost of Tar Vigaz desperately worked to both keep the local Warp suppressed, and attempted to wrestle mechanical control over the security forces of Evna once again. At the very least, they had been able to prevent governor Langwidere and her small group of Family of Liberty sycophants and hereteks from being able to fully control the Wheeler battle servitors. Even if the servitors were malfunctioning, it was better than if they were all under the thrall of Langwidere.
This entire evening had become a travesty, Null thought, holding his gold hand to his face in a gesture of shock. It was now apparent that the governor had been planning this subversion of law and order for some time with the cooperation of both the Family of Liberty, and the Sinclair family. And, it all just kept getting worse.
A few minutes ago, an unusual power outage had struck all of Evna. The Tower of Reason, luckily, had been built of very sturdy and shielded materials capable of deflecting any sort of electromagnetic interference from an errant solar storm, which was what this initially appeared to be. Even Langwidere's forces paused their assault when this occurred, and an intercepted communication confirmed that they were not responsible. Swears of anger and confusion were heard until their system radar detected a large gravitational disturbance that was now swinging around their sun.
It was now dreadfully apparent that Langwidere was the least of their worries in this terrible evening.
"Necrons," Null stated flatly. "Why did it have to be Necrons?"
Standing beside the Archmagos, Magos Amee held four of her hands to her face, almost in a gesture of shame as saddened prayers to the Omnissiah began to whisper through the room, mingling with the miserable raspy moans of the psyker attached to the pylon through a series of long cables that fed into a nearby console. Despite the words not being spoken, the pervasive mood filling this metal room was easily apparent.
They were doomed.
Null began to shake. With the full might of the Imperium behind them, they might be able to fend away one Harvest Ship, but three? And, the xenos had decided to enter the Vigaz system during a Chaos uprising! It felt as if fate was laughing at them!
"My friends, I need to speak to Null alone for a short while. We're going to require a recalibration of our defensive strategy this evening," Nimmie softly spoke, not moving her hands from her face. Each of the other adepts in attendance then filtered silently out of the room, leaving Null and Nimmie alone with the tortured psyker, who weakly strained against his bonds as his energy fed the pylon, keeping the Warp suppressed.
The door closed. Nimmie removed her hands from her eyes. "This is terrible," she spoke simply with a soft buzz. "They're here already. I was hoping that we had more time, that maybe we could defend against this uprising and then, organize an evacuation before the aliens arrived. I-I just can't..."
Nimmie then raised all eight of her hands to her head, and began to shake. Null didn't know if she could still produce watery tears, but she could apparently still express the emotion of great sorrow.
"What should we do, Nimmie? I will assist you in whatever you desire. I promise you this," Null replied supportively, reaching to hold her in a protective embrace with two of his long prehensile mechadendrites. Jiminy, the metal mantis drone, clambered out of the Archmagos' pocket to perch again on his shoulder.
The spidery Magos pulled back from his embrace, and seemed to sigh in defeat with a buzzing hiss. "The Last Bell is already ringing, which means that at least some people of this world will heed the warning and depart, and that is at least good. Praise Omnissiah for that warning."
Null stood near Nimmie as she composed herself. He didn't know what to say to her.
"Truthfully, I would rather the xenos devour and destroy this world then to allow its consumption by Chaos. If the xenos take it, at least we can return with a properly armed fleet and exact an exterminatus, which would completely destroy it," Nimmie replied solemnly, apparently now thinking aloud. "If this world is consumed by Chaotic forces, then no doubt, the beasts of Slaanesh would seek to fully claim it as a new daemonic stronghold, which would then resist any sort of obliteration. This now means that our priority must now be to make sure that we can evacuate as many innocent souls as possible while denying Chaos this world. In addition, we must be certain that Langwidere does not have another card up her sleeve, which she likely does, considering her guile."
"Forgive me, Nimmie, but how has the governor's degeneracy allowed her to continue all this time? Surely there had to be warning signs," Null cautiously asked. The room shook again, and the lights flickered. Jiminy squealed a metal protest as the drone briefly fluttered up from the Archmagos' shoulders.
Nimmie shrugged her many shoulders, and let out another frustrated sigh. The suffering psyker imprisoned on the gurney let out another low moan, which echoed through the room. "I was given strict instructions by Mars to allow governor Langwidere unimpeded governance here. The orders came through the Fabricator-General himself, and I could not object." The spider Magos shook her head, and began to pace through the room, her metal footsteps strangely light for someone so modified. "Because of this, Langwidere governed with absolute power, and we were mostly unable to investigate her. Many centuries ago, we were able to work with her here and there, and she actually listened to us. But now, I see that she is beyond redemption."
"Why haven't more, shall we say, desperate measures not been taken in this situation, Nimmie?" Null asked cautiously.
The Magos paused her walking, and bowed her head shamefully. "I suppose it is full confession time, yes?" she whispered with a faint chuckle. "More drastic measures have certainly been considered, but because of my connections with the investigations of Travelers and my own unorthodox research, we could not afford any scrutiny from Mars whatsoever. We both know what happens when we step out of line, Null," she informed the Archmagos seriously.
"But, truly at least these dramatic actions would have been in the best interest of this remote world and this outpost of reason! What sort of favor could Langwidere actually have that would cause the Fabricator-General to allow such an avaricious and easily corrupted woman such unimpeded power? This world isn't even under the full jurisdiction of Mars, yet the Fabricator-General seems to have given it to her as a gift!" the Archmagos began to scold Nimmie, who reacted by gripping her shoulders in a self-soothing embrace. She began to shake, and the emotion of shame began to radiate off of the Magos like heat. Null then angled his metal chin upward. Something didn't add up here, and while he cared for Nimmie greatly, she seemed to be omitting information from him. He took a breath to steal his resolve, and stepped before her before asking, "Nimmie, there is something you are not telling me. What is it?"
The Magos didn't immediately respond, and continued clutching her shoulders. After a few moments, she then exhaled a long defeated sigh. "Langwidere is- well, this is difficult to explain. Not many people know of her true identity. Most just know that she is in high favor to someone in Mars. I know this because of my position, and was asked by the governor herself to keep it quiet."
Another long pause. The room shook once again, and the bound psyker hissed in pain as the lights flickered ominously.
"S-she's the Fabricator-General's daughter. And, Mars entrusted me with my perpetual position here to keep an eye on her as she ruled this world," Nimmie confessed. "That's the real reason they kept me stationed out here with no hope for a transfer, I suspect. To play babysitter to a rebellious, wicked daughter."
"What?" Null yelped. "You're joking! H-how could this-?" the Archmagos' question was trapped in his throat. Nimmie continued to quickly explain herself.
"I've been sending my reports to Mars concerning both her and this region for many years, and until Langwidere became friends with Evanora of the East, all was under relative control. Something changed in the governor when she met with that wicked woman from Levant, perhaps through an inferiority complex. I'm not certain, really. But, after Langwidere struck a friendship with the Wicked Witch of the East, her desire for competition and innovation increased ten-fold. She confessed to me that she desired greatly to master the strange sciences that both Evanora and her studied, and that she vowed to put her rival in her place."
"And because of the Fabricator-General, this means that any attempt to remove the governor-"
"-Would immediately bring the scrutiny of Mars upon us, if not the wrath of the entirety of the Imperium. And I could not afford to risk that. The Fabricator-General loves his troublesome daughter, but did not wish her to interfere with any Imperial issues. He, I suspect, sent her out here to both keep her out of the way, and to give her her own little fiefdom to play with to keep her contained."
"Did you inform him of her corrupted nature?" Null asked, his bright green eyes filled with animated worry.
"I tried! I truly did! I sent reports to Mars highlighting Langwidere's ongoing eccentricities, and our concerns over her increasingly abhorrent behaviors. My concerns went unanswered. It feels as if Mars has abandoned us out here, and with the recent dimming of the Astronomican's light and the cessation of its protectant tidal wind, I fear for the future of this entire region."
"And so, the planetary governor descends into Chaos, and it seems that nepotism in Mars is ultimately to blame for this situation," Null heavily observed. "Langwidere was given free reign to do as she pleased, and with no proper discipline or oversight, corruption took root upon her soul, rotting her within, regardless of her lineage."
Nimmie nodded. Another explosion rocked the tower, causing the lights to glimmer once again. The Magos shivered again. "Yes, and now, it all comes to a head. I suppose the fall of the governor was all but inevitable, considering the nascent corruption within her soul. With this, and the coming of this xenos fleet, it seems that we have now come to the conclusion of the story of Tar Vigaz," the Magos replied with a short sad buzz. Nimmie then turned, and walked to one of the cabinets that lined the side of this room. After the sound of multiple locks disengaging, the Magos turned around, and approached Null again. In her hands, she held the portrait of the smiling (and golden-eyed) young man and the attractive young woman in a clear stasis box. "And now, I have something special to tell you. You have the other box I gave you, correct?"
"The one with my human portrait, yes," Null replied. "And that code. But what does this all have to do with anything in these ruinous times? We need a plan to evacuate, Nimmie! We need to act swiftly, and we do not need to not sit here prattling on like two teenage fleshling females!"
Her eyes remained smiling, despite Null's irritation. "And in the time I have been speaking with you, I have formulated one. It is now being remotely distributed to my adepts, and it will be enacted soon. But, first, I need to inform you of some new information." Nimmie reached toward Null, and pulled him close with one of her long mechadendrites.
The spider Magos began speaking again in a hushed, excited tone. "I tell you with great happiness that the genetic material taken from the portrait and the rag you gave me is a familial match. Both individuals are very distantly related, marking your Inheritor's holy lineage. It is utter confirmation on her identity, and now, there is no doubt. I have spent the better part of my long life researching the creatures known as Marii-Suze, the Inheritors, the Revelators, as you have. Now that I have seen one with my own eyes, and I know that humankind has a good future, I am at peace with any fate that befalls me."
Nimmie then handed Null her stasis box, and he took it in one of his right hands. "And now, about your other box. I have something to tell you. Please, show it to me."
Null then reached behind, and under the robes on his side, he retrieved the other clear container from within a deep pocket. He observed it. His blue eyes were humorless and harsh, and his face lined from years of contemplation and study. It disturbed him that he could not remember when this portrait had been drawn!
"Turn it around," the Magos instructed, and he did so. The long and seemingly nonsensical string of numbers and symbols met his eyes. "As I said before, this was found in a cache of other priceless artifacts from various time periods, and through my studies, I believe that this is an audial-triggered sub-hypnotic informational code. If spoken aloud, it may be able to unlock certain information within certain individuals. This cache was found very recently on Ix, an unremarkable world near Cyclothrathe after a very secret expedition through a newly discovered Warp Gate within this system."
"You wish me to speak the code? Why have you not instructed an adept to do such a thing instead?" Null asked as he turned the portrait around. Deep down, the Archmagos already understood why, but it made him very nervous to consider.
"Because, vociferated by either me or anyone else, it does nothing. Consider the code a key for a specific lock. My current theory is that I believe that the code was written upon your portrait because someone locked this information specifically within you, and only you. You are the lock. The fact that your own past has been somewhat forgotten further confirms my suspicion."
Another explosion rocked the tower. The bound psyker on the table began to miserably rasp, "Help me. Emperor, help me." He was then silent, and the two high-ranking children of Mars began to speak again.
"What sort of information would it reveal if I spoke the code presently? Are you assured of its safety?" Null asked. Despite his extreme suspicion concerning this supposed code, he admitted that a spark of curiosity had begun to rise within him.
"Fairly certain, I believe, dear Null. Not 100% certain, but fairly. Someone thought your portrait valuable enough to use a rare stasis locked box to house it, so I don't think whoever locked it would go through all that trouble simply to hurt you. This information, I suspect from the other contextual artifacts it was found with, deals with Travelers, and possibly, even technology related to their rare and powerful natures. How curious that you yourself have spent a long portion of your life also in the research of this esoteric topic? It is almost too coincidental to be believed, really."
This really was a bit too coincidental, Null thought with a brief chill through his circuits. "I will have to run some of my own tests, of course," the Archmagos replied as he put both boxes away under his robes. "And you will join me when you evacuate this world, will you? No doubt the Inheritor is infuriating, no better than a moody child at present, but she can be easily convinced of your utility. She is who she is, and that cannot be denied. Your wisdom would be welcome as we tread the stars, and she matures," The Archmagos replied. The psyker began to moan again, and Nimmie quickly busied herself with adjusting the multitude of long metal needles that had been implanted in the individual's skull.
A long and very sad moment passed as the Magos did not respond to the Archmagos' proposition. Null felt his heart sink.
"I-I have made an evacuation plan, but it does not include myself, I'm afraid. This world is doomed, yes, but there are still many souls to be saved. The last intact line of defense for this world is the minefield above, and I need to stay here to operate it for as long as possible to allow time for people to flee."
Nimmie's words were spoken quickly, almost as if fear chased her while she pulled herself away from the psyker, who had stopped moaning. Before Null could respond, she began to speak again:
"The near-planet mines I personally designed are especially nasty, and may even buy us time enough to increase the amount of evacuees that can escape this world. They will slow down, but not stop a Necron fleet of this magnitude. Here, within the Tower, I have full and unfettered control over the minefield. Right now, it remains open to allow anyone wishing to evacuate to evacuate, no code departure code currently required. When the fleet comes closer, I will then fully arm it, and allow selective gaps for any further evacuees."
Null placed his hands to his face, amazed at Nimmie's brave genius! She was saving lives with each second she remained here and defended the Tower! Another quake shook the room. Was this from artillery shelling, or was that an earthquake?
Nimmie's eyes shimmered with many colors, displaying her great worry. "And so, this is also another reason why Langwidere wishes so desperately to breach our walls. Not only does she wish for control over the Wheeler security force, and for us to stop impeding her daemonic summonings, but she also holds the administration codes for the minefield, but cannot operate them outside of the Tower of Reason. Langwidere requires souls in order to bring about her daemonic apocalypse, and if the souls cannot be procured, then she is starved of energy."
Langwidere's full evil was now coming into focus, Null realized with horror. "The governor wants to arm the minefield prevent people from leaving! She wants to trap everyone here!"
Nimmie simply nodded, and Null could see that she was shivering once again. "Oh yes. Souls that could not depart could be fed to daemonic appetites, and then, Chaos could gain a strong foothold on this world. Should the governor's forces gain control of the minefield and petition the leadership of the greater daemon known as Am'Erika, they may even hold enough Immaterial sway to open a gate to the Warp, summoning legions of daemons to successfully fight the xenos. But, as I said earlier, this would lead to Chaos claiming this world, and I cannot allow that. I will not allow it."
"There must be a way to for you to depart this world and operate the minefield remotely! Truly, I will not allow you to die here!" the Archmagos cried out.
"If there was a way to remotely harness the minefield beyond the Tower of Reason, believe me, I'd be doing it," Nimmie replied sadly. "It can only be controlled through a command module at the bottom of this Tower, and only by someone within the grounds of the Tower itself. While I have remote connectivity with the interface while within this structure, I do not if I depart this location."
"What are you going to do, then? What are you planning?"
"My solution is thus: Since you were able to unlock the hidden vault at the base of the Tower, it stands reason to believe that you can also close it as well. I wish to be sealed inside with the command module. I will destroy all command overrides, and so, as long as I survive in that locked room with the command module and defensive protocols, I can operate the functions of the minefield."
"Once inside, will you be able to depart again?" Null asked, already knowing the answer.
Nimmie shook her head. "I suspect not. Over many years, we attempted to cut into the blackstone tower to learn its secrets. It resisted all forms of intrusion, so I suspect it to be utterly impermeable, even to Warp technologies."
"The blackstone vault would become your tomb," the Archmagos replied with sadness. If this was all true, Nimmie was an extraordinarily brave Magos, and to see her genius wasted by the nepotism of the Fabricator-General's favor of his wicked daughter was appalling. Mars really was a giant monstrosity held together with tape and ineptitude!
Nimmie simply nodded in quiet understanding, and said, "Yes, yes it would. But, I am happy to go to my doom in utter defiance of Chaos and knowing that I helped to save many people. I do not want the people of Tar Vigaz to be used as fuel to summon daemons that would consume the memory of this once great world. It is a better fate to be exterminated by xenos, truly. I will not allow Langwidere her prize. And, now that I know that humankind will soon have a new and decidedly more mobile incarnation of our blessed Machine God, I am at peace with my decision."
Null didn't respond, and turned away. An animation of tears began to flow across the lenses of his ocular goggles.
"Do not cry, my love," Nimmie reassured him as she walked again to the Archmagos' side. She touched his face gently with one of her eight thin metal hands. "I give my life in full service to humanity's future, even to my death. I go to my end with joy, knowing that the future will be noble and bright."
The Magos then hugged Null, who returned her embrace with four trembling arms.
Pulling back, it now appeared that Nimmie was also "crying", as many of her eyes had a strange twinkle animating across their lenses. "I will begin the evacuation proceedings for the Tower of Reason post haste. We have our own private wing within the spaceport, and our shuttles can accommodate our population. I will give the order soon, and then, I will seal myself in the vault. I will instruct that you will be sent in my personal armored shuttle back to Port Aubergine with two skitarii guards. With you, I will also send my Servo-skull along with dataslates containing my research and study over my long years, all my records of my life's work. Within, it holds much knowledge, and it will be very useful to you as you soar into humanity's future, dearest Ogun."
"I, I-" Null was speechless as he stood, and his tears became more frequent. Yet another trembling quake struck below.
"If you can convince our promised future avatar to travel to Ix after this, I suggest you do so. I was planning another exhibition to that world to hunt for more artifacts until recent events derailed everything. And, for faster travel, I even encourage you to use the Warp Gate if you wish."
"I am wary to use any untested Warp Gate technology, Nimmie," Null replied, still weeping.
The Magos ignored his protests, and continued to speak. "I will send you with precise coordinates. This secret Gate sits in orbit above Garmanthor, the fifth planet of this system, and exists in orbit of a tiny moon by the name of Ara. It was only discovered in an asteroid field that contained xenos ruins a mere decade ago. We had been hoping to use this new Gate as a corridor for fast travel between here and the insular world of Cyclothrathe. I suspect now that the reclusive denizens of that world also now know of this Warp Gate, but have not yet put up a guardian outpost. So far, we have one confirmed round trip between the Ix system and the Vigaz system, and with the Divine Retribution's durability, I'm confident that your journey will be safe."
"Cyclothrathe? Pardon me if my knowledge isn't current, but isn't that a Hell-Forge? The Dark Mechanicum?" Null asked with worry.
A knock at the door interrupted their discussion, and with a quick blink from the spidery Magos, the door slid open. Standing before them were now two tall skitarii warriors, each equipped with black and green rifles. Between them, a floating Servo-skull hovered, its red laser eye watching the room impassively.
"Am I leaving already?" Null asked.
"I'm afraid so, Ogun," Nimmie replied with a sad bow of her head. "I now give the evacuation order, and then, I will seal myself in the vault with your aid. You'll be departing post haste." The Magos then turned to the two warriors who were now walking into the room. "Luckily, Port Carmine wasn't struck by the recent terroristic events, and for now, our planetside hangar remains unscathed. It likely won't be unmarked for long, so we cannot afford to waste time."
"Nimmie?" Null asked as he felt a wave of intense emotion come upon him, which made him tremble. She turned to him, her eight eyes shimmering in an emotive rainbow. "I'm, I-I'm sorry that I-I didn't fight for you more on M-mars. And I-I-I-" the Archmagos had begun to stammer again, his circuits filled with emotion.
Nimmie Amee, the brave Magos Explorator of Mars, loyal follower of the Omnissiah, and secret beloved of Ogun Nemo, smiled with her eight shining eyes. "I know, Ogun. And I love you as well. I always have, and always will. Now, prepare yourself for the dark night before the dawn, and soon, may gold wings steal you away from this world, and fly you to humankind's glorious new future. Remember us, and remember me as you make history, my sweet."
Elsewhere:
The stunningly beautiful woman stood before her wall of flawless mirrors as she carefully applied her ridiculously expensive pink lipstick in a demure pout. She had chosen the unusual color palette of black and pink for her makeup this evening, and had changed into a stunningly unique dress of dark violet. Long silver spines trailed out from her shoulders like tinkling quills, and various precious jewels were stitched within the purple leather in a swirling abstract design across the entirety of the dress. It was a bit ostentatious, but this evening was a special one, and the governor felt that her style should communicate that. With all the interesting drama that her world was experiencing, she felt as if she was in the mood for something daring to celebrate the heroic Lord of Hosts that would soon be among them. Lady Langwidere was, after all, the most daring, brilliant, and beautiful creature in this entire region, and she should effectively represent her people in form and style. Her daddy had told her so, and he was very important, so it was definitely true.
Langwidere, lady governor of the five worlds within the Conglomeration of Ev and beloved prodigal daughter of the Fabricator-General of Mars, knew just how incredible and lovely she was as she admired herself. Like a dragon made of precious gemstones, she demanded all to adore her and grovel in her beauty. Not only was she a paragon of style and grace no matter what head she wore, but she was also supremely intelligent, a savant of mathematics, robotics, and even a whisper of forbidden Warp-related sciences. Using mysterious alien tech (which involved Aeldari spirit stones, Necron living metal, and the ossified hearts of some weird extinct alien race from the Horus Heresy), Langwidere's revolutionary mind had made many breakthroughs concerning the science of soul-transference. The governor could effectively store her soul within her specialized artificial heart, and, she could change her head as easy as her clothes!
Daddy had been so proud of Langwidere when he saw what his little girl had discovered over two thousand years ago on Mars! And to think, all that tech was just lying around not being used deep within the vaults! It was good that Langwidere had broken into them, because otherwise, everything would have simply wasted away forever under lock and key! Her father had been so proud of her that he sent her on a secret Rogue Trader vessel that ventured in the far reaches of the galaxy for planets to colonize! The Fabricator-General had ordered her to be made steward to a newly discovered planet to teach her "responsibility", as he had said. Soon after her arrival upon the world that would eventually be known as Tar Vigaz, she was introduced to Evoldo, their milquetoast democratically elected governor. After a short bit of negotiations, and more than a few threats, Langwidere (who had then been known previously then as Ilsa) was made steward of Tar Vigaz (which used to be named Ev), and after Evoldo's untimely death, she became its perpetual ruler, swapping heads every few years to give the appearance of change and variety. Sometimes, the governor even installed puppet rulers for a time when she was bored of ruling, and no one was the wiser.
Langwidere wasn't quite human any longer, and she now considered herself something much more. The alterations she had made to herself made her not only effectively immortal, but it enabled her to simply swap her head when she wanted to rule under a new personality. However, her ability to wear new heads had initially come with the cost of dampened emotions, making her quite blunt and boring at times. It was not until very recently that she had been able to fully pair each head with a full and stable connection to the Warp, enabling her to experience a glorious range of brilliant feelings along with empowering her with potent psyker abilities. Her mastery of soul transference was now complete! Evanora couldn't possibly compare to her genius now!
One of the more "independent" tech-priests she had secretly met with had warned her, however, that artificially rooting a Warp connection within a soul may have unforeseen consequences, such as daemonic possession, or even insanity. Langwidere didn't concern herself with that. It had been a few months since the governor had manipulated her essence into manifesting psychic powers along with her new colorful emotions, and she felt great, so everything as just fine. Well, not "fine" at this exact moment, as the wretched tech-priests of the Tower of Reason were suppressing the Warp's expression over Evna, which was causing the governor some existential disquiet, as well as hindering the calling forth of any angelic allies. But soon, all those adepts would be dead, and Langwidere would have full control over this world's security forces, which included the formidable minefield above.
The minefield was currently deactivated, and that would not do, as this world was now bleeding essential souls that would be needed later. The traitorous Astartes of Angel's Respite had rung the Last Bell, which all schoolchildren of Evna were taught meant that their world was in peril, and signaled for an emergency planetary evacuation by whatever means possible. The nasty Space Marines then promptly departed along with their many human followers before anyone could react to stop them. This was all so irritating, and, it made things more difficult for the the governor's allied forces. People that had evacuated could not be used as gifts for Am'Erika, the Lord of Hosts. Thusly, the storming of the Adeptus Mechanicus outpost tower was of utmost importance.
As one of her mechanical clone body doubles stormed the troublesome Tower of Reason, Langwidere herself was actually still within a luxurious mirrored parlor deep within her palace. There, she carefully chose her finest dress, makeup, and even just the right head for the rest of this evening's events from her Hall of Heads. Tonight's head (which was her favorite head, and the one she was most often seen wearing) possessed full curls of blonde radiance that spilled dramatically across the purple backdrop of her dress. The governor had considered wearing her Mombi head until the Wicked Witch of the East had damaged it beyond use earlier. Evanora was such a vile and rude creature! Langwidere was looking forward to humiliating that rotten bitch for the grievous crime of upstaging the governor at her own party (and for her many other crimes which now included murder)! How dare she show up out of the blue without a call, and how dare she dress as an Empress when the governor had a similar costume! The social crime was unbearable!
A flickering message then passed over her field of vision as she applied her makeup, and with that, her body double instantly notified her that the Tower of Reason would likely fall within thirty minutes. Understanding this, the governor would likely need to make a public appearance to calm the rabble. Downstairs, in the Emerald Ballroom, representatives from Sinclair media and the Family of Liberty stood waiting for her command. Lord Justinian Sinclair himself now awaited her word at Sinclair Tower, and while there had been a few speed bumps to the sundering and reconfiguation of the local government, Langwidere was certain that she would win the evening. They had to, because according to the seers of the Family of Liberty, an army of aliens would eventually threaten their world, and the only way to fight back was to call upon a great angel known as Am'Erika for aid. Langwidere would do whatever she could to save her worlds, even if it meant looking outside the ignorant (and exceedingly boring and low class) Imperium. In her heart, the governor knew that this summoned angel would reward her for her genius and beauty, and now that the Astronomican had died, the silly Emperor's sight could not see them to stop them!
Of course, what actually concerned the governor the most this evening was the sudden reappearance of her troublesome rival, Evanora of the East. After the Wicked Witch had crashed her costume party, her guests started complaining of headaches and visions of a giant gold God-Empress, causing some to even becoming disturbed enough to prematurely leave even before the main festivities! Whatever Evanora had done to her people was an incredible insult, and after that, when Langwidere had attempted to nicely ask "Evie" for help (and for the use of her head), her rival had decided to rudely decapitate the governor instead before killing an innumerable amount of innocent partygoers, one of which included Matriarch Raula White herself! What a damned travesty! Evanora was trash, first and foremost, and trash needed to be put in the garbage. Right now, the wicked bitch of the east was loose somewhere in the city, but Langwidere was certain that she would eventually find, catch, and finally decapitate her rival to end this little game.
On top of the reappearance of Evanora, Grand Advisor Grigori was apparently missing, as was Evring Sinclair. Justinian, from what she had been told, had strangely declined Evring's entry to the ballroom with the rest of her elite followers, and had run off in a tearful huff. Grigori had also vanished around that time, seemingly almost into thin air. The Grand Advisor was always so slippery, but truth be told, since he had always been slavishly devoted to Langwidere, she did not concern herself with his absence. He had his own decadent hobbies, and spent much of his time in drink and with women, and that was where he probably was. The governor could respect that, so she did not trouble herself with his disappearance. He'd show up again, but it was a shame how he carried on, sometimes.
A telepathic transmission originating from one of the Family of Liberty's priests downstairs echoed in the governor's mind: We await your command, governor. We stand at the ready to avenge the death of our Matriarch!
You are all blessed of Am'Erika, the governor responded happily to her exquisite citizens. I will give my next orders soon. Prepare yourselves to inflict divine retribution against the one who murdered Matriarch Raula White!
The priest forwarded what the governor had said to the more psychically inert Family of Liberty members, and a cheer rose up.
Matriarch Raula White's death actually didn't bother Langwidere much. Raula White's personality had begun to grate recently, and now that she was dead, all her priests and other underlings have now been instructed to operate under the thrall of Langwidere herself, which was far more convenient anyway. The Matriarch's true second in command, High Confessor Kopeland, was actually very busy over at Port Ruby shuttling people to the the Statue of Libertine for what they were calling a "peace vigil". More like an "in pieces" vigil, knowing what was happening to everyone at the statue. Langwidere softly laughed, amused at an imagined image of what was occurring over at the statue.
Raula White had been useful for a time. Years ago, she had been the first to warn the government of Tar Vigaz of an overwhelmingly dangerous fleet of aliens would eventually threaten this world. With Raula's help, the Family of Liberty and the Sinclair media conglomerate worked in tandem to "soften" the populace to the idea of a new form of angel-led government, and for a few years, this worked beautifully. Objectors and journalists who came too close to the truth were quickly silenced or brainwashed into passivity, and political dissidents were taken away under the guise of "mental health reform". A small rival Chaos cult was permitted to exist as a scapegoat for any other miscellaneous problems, which kept any negative focus off the Family themselves.
Praise you, governor Langwidere, chosen of Am'Erika, and the fairest woman in all the Conglomeration of Ev! the priest telepathically flattered her again, which gave her a pleasant shiver. It was probably time to go downstairs now to attend to her chosen people.
The governor stood from her seat, flashed a quick smile at her mirror, and prepared to venture downstairs, but before she could do so, an unusual chill passed through her. Langwidere's psychic senses directed her to her personal cogitator on the far side of her parlor, which stood atop a frilly desk covered in pink silk ruffles. The long rectangular display switched on as she approached, and a small blinking red light informed her that Sinclair Tower was attempting to contact her. Oh, that must be Justie! Excellent!
With a few taps upon a keyboard, and a retinal scan to confirm the identity of this head, the screen then flickered to life. It was Justinian Sinclair, and he now wore his more austere grey suit instead of his Tin Man costume. Maybe Justinian chose that costume subconsciously, as that man certainly didn't have a heart.
"Greetings, governor," Justinian spoke to her. "I'm contacting you early to inform you of good news. We've discovered the location of our little fugitive, the one that goes by Erika."
"Her name is Evanora. I told you not to entertain this silly delusion that she's been soul swapped," Langwidere replied quickly and defensively. "She is not a Traveler, and neither is Grand Advisor Grigori. Travelers are a myth. This will no longer be debated."
"Very well. Evanora has been spotted lurking around on my doorstep on Rhymes Square. Why she is here and why security didn't detect her before is a mystery, but it could have something to do with all this interference breaking and muddling our surveillance technologies as of late." Justinian made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
"So, she's been found?" Langwidere asked with a wide smile.
"Yes, and she's traveling with two unknown individuals, one of which keeps triggering security directives, but we can't get a bead on his identity. Here, I'll transfer the feed to you so you can see for yourself, my lady," Justinian replied.
The screen before her flickered and split. Now, to the left of Justinian's cold face, a split screen displayed an aerial view of two people wearing red scarves over their faces and heads, and one Tzaangor mutant with a broken horn. The three were skulking through alleys like disgusting homeless people near Rhymes Square. One of the figures had a faint, but recognizable gold glow around her head and shoulders, marking her as Evanora of the East. What was strange was that the mutant she had been seen traveling with before didn't appear to have horns, but this one did. Maybe he had experienced a mutation through her rival's reckless use of evil witchcraft?
Justinian began to speak with a deep authoritative tone. "Our plan is to locally broadcast a short message to the Square as a peace offering for our little fake news Empress. We're going to instruct her to turn herself in. My proposal is such: we promise her mercy and fairness, and if she's stupid enough to accept, we offer her a quick televised trial. Fair and balanced, of course. After this, we force her to repent her sins against freedom and justice by sending her over to the peace vigil at the Statue of Libertine."
"Oh, you're cold, Justie," Langwidere cooed with an evil smile. Evanora and her two mysterious friends appeared to be speaking as they hid behind a dumpster, waiting for a guard to pass. What they spoke of could not be discerned from this distance, but it honestly didn't matter. She was doomed, and would never get out of the city alive now that the governor knew where she was. "Have I ever told you how much I like you?"
"I'm pragmatic," the elder Sinclair brother replied with the smallest hint of a flattered smile on his face of stone. "Do I have your approval for this action?"
"Of course, sweet Justie. Give her a chance to turn herself in. You know she won't, but that will make everyone think that we're being reasonable. I mean, why would anyone run from law and order in this amazing world, right?"
Justinian chuckled darkly. After a few moments, he then spoke again, his voice now somewhat edged with slight anxiety. "And another query, if I may. Do you happen to have any knowledge on the location of my younger brother, Evring? He's... he's still missing. I grow concerned. His vessel is still in his spaceport, so he's probably still on planet."
The governor continued to watch Evanora as she hid in another alley like the cowardly piece of human garbage that she was, no doubt terrified of her situation, even though it was all entirely of her own doing. If her rival hadn't been such a rude bitch, none of this would have happened. Slighting Langwidere at her own party was a fatal mistake, so Evanora deserved whatever cruel fate befell her. Justinian waited for an answer to his question, and Langwidere offered, "No, sorry. Palace security cameras are all down with all this electronic interference. Once I take control of the Tower of Reason, I can easily track down where your wayward younger brother has wandered." The governor blinked, remembering something peculiar. "Hm, strange. A witness to your speech in the Emerald Ballroom says that you were the one to deny your brother entry. Was that person confused, or-?"
Justinian paused as if very carefully considering what to say. "Evring was drunk again. I advised him to take some Sweep and to come back to the meeting when he was sober. You know how he is. He never made it back to the meeting. I've also heard rumors that he was seen with Evanora, socializing with her. Could... could Evanora have taken my brother hostage?"
Ah, now that was actually a good idea, Langwidere had to admit. A hostage could secure her safe passage through the city. Maybe Evring wore a disguise as he was being pulled along by Evanora, who could have dominated him with her evil magic. "That's certainly a possibility. If you can't get an identification on this other red-masked person walking along with her, then it might actually be Evring under psychic compulsion. Or... wait. I can personally check."
Langwidere then turned to the surveillance feed, and began to focus her will, reaching through the Warp in an effort to examine the red-masked stranger beside Evanora as the trio snuck along. She searched for his soul, and began to sniff, seeking this unknown individual's identity. Within a few moments, a name came to her, but as she watched the display, she felt as if there was something terribly familiar about this man, but she still could not place how she knew him.
"The man she travels with is named Alberich. His soul is bright, and he is a psyker," the governor announced. Maybe she was sensing some sort of magical interference, and that was throwing off her perception? As Langwidere continued to further examine the stranger's soul in curiosity, both Evanora and Alberich then began to glance nervously about, perhaps feeling the governor's psychic eye eye upon them.
"Alberich?" Justinian spoke the name, also not recognizing it.
"Probably just some nobody, which is what Evanora is here on my world anyway," Langwidere shrugged. Eh, whatever.
"Of course, my lady. I'm in total agreement," the elder Sinclair nodded sycophantically. "We will initiate my broadcast shortly, and in about ten minutes, I'll call you and update you further on the situation. We have six blessed sorcerers at our disposal in Sinclair Tower, and their strength will enable an easy capture of this little wayward fake Empress. You'll have a front row seat to the action if you keep watching the feed, too."
"A little entertainment before heading to the Tower of Reason for my victory broadcast! What a delight!" Langwidere said with a wide smile as she continued to watch the security feed. Eerily, as the governor continued to observe her rival, Evanora then turned her head straight up, and somehow looked right into the camera on the drone hovering high above her. This caused Langwidere's artificial heart to jump in some kind of visceral fear reflex before the Wicked Witch of the East looked away. This frightened reaction had both surprised and greatly upset her. There was some kind of strange energy around Evanora that felt toxic to behold, and once again, the governor couldn't put her finger on what she was sensing. "So yes, capture her however you can, but remember, I'd rather her be alive when she's offered up, so please, if you have to shoot her, just go for the legs or something. Kill her cockroach friends if you want, but try to capture Evanora alive. I want to make her suffer for her sins!"
The elder Sinclair smiled dryly again. "Of course, my esteemed and brilliant governor. I'll keep the feed up for you for your entertainment. We will win the evening, and soon, a new beautiful government will arise! It's all easy from here on in, I suspect. Praise you and your indelible wisdom. Over and out."
A short time later, and things had not gone to plan, which was putting it mildly. After Justinian's message to her rival, and his request that she turn herself in, the Wicked Witch of the East proceeded to lope down another side street with her two friends. From what Langwidere could deduce, Evanora then used some sort of brainwashing to influence the locals with her frightening gold halo. This then caused the crowd of people gathered outside of Sinclair Tower to turn on themselves in an orgy of violence! In horror, the governor then watched Evanora bolt down a side street before causing disgusting amounts of property damage by telekinetically shattering windows and hurling transport vehicles into groups of soldiers! When the six sorcerers at Sinclair Tower attempted to chase after the Wicked Witch, a band of murderous dancers appeared from the shadows to cut Evanora's pursuers down! A quick telepathic message from one of these loyal sorcerers then informed her that Justinian had been ambushed by an unknown party, and he had been kidnapped right out of his office before any daemons could be summoned for their aid!
Aeldari! The Harlequins! We have been betrayed! the sorcerer mentally screamed before he was silenced!
Langwidere trembled with rage and surprise, and began to breathe heavily as she watched Evanora defend herself in a blur of gold light, hurling another parked vehicle against her loyal subjects! The governor had to do something!
Quickly, with a few effortless keystrokes, she took control of the many local displays that decorated the tall buildings of Rhymes Square. Her camera was turned on, and she calmed herself. Did Evanora think that she could escape? Nobody gets away! Nobody gets away from governor Langwidere! She was a genius, and she would not allow it! The governor then projected her image and voice to broadcast all across the multiple large animate displays lining the street where the fake Empress ran. Her rival would definitely see her. "I see you over there, loser. Trash. You think you can run from me, Evanora?" the governor snarled.
"Your planet sucks, lady," Evanora retorted in a roaring powerful voice as she continued to flee. What an abominable lack of class!
"Evie darling, did I ever tell you who my father was? I think I told you, but I don't quite recall!" Langwidere angrily reminded the Wicked Witch.
"Is your father Abaddon the Despoiler? Because if he is, you sure take after him because of your constant fucking failures!" she snapped rudely back at the governor! How awful! How uncouth! Who was "Abaddon the Despoiler", anyway? Probably yet another worthless nobody. Evanora had certainly meant this as an insult to Langwidere's breeding.
"Funny, funny," the governor tutted with a cold haughty laugh. For all this terrible rudeness, Langwidere wanted Evanora to suffer. She wanted her rival to beg for mercy after all this was over! Perhaps Am'Erika could be convinced to keep her alive and in perpetual agony for Langwidere's enjoyment? The fantasy lifted her spirits. The governor decided to remind Evanora of her esteemed lineage. "But truthfully, I'm the Fabricator-General of Mars' daughter, you see. I've always been daddy's little girl, and I know that if I ask dear father a favor, he'll deliver it to me! I can make it so you will never have any rest wherever you run, even in this remote area of space! Even if you escape here, you will be hunted for the rest of your miserable life!"
"Sounds like dad couldn't fucking stand you either since he sent you to live all the way out here. Pretty sure he was ashamed of you!"
Evanora's words hit Langwidere's artificial heart like a shard of glass, and the governor's smile was shocked off of her face. What an awful and rude thing to say! Daddy loved her, and to suggest otherwise was a crime against the governor herself! Daddy gave her this world to play with, after all. She ruled over this playground paradise far from the formal reach of the Imperium where she could always get her way and never have to compromise to any other worthless nobodies! Daddy put her out here because he loved her, of course! That's just the way it was, right?
Right?
Her rival continued to jeer loudly as she ran with her two loser trash friends. "If you're so fucking important why don't you spend your time on protecting your planets? I don't care who your dad is! All the people of this world are in trouble! They need leadership, not your petty Chaos bullshit!"
Even more wretched and entirely false insults! It was utterly preposterous to discount all the lovely things Langwidere had done for the Conglomeration of Ev over the years! Now angry, the governor shot back with: "But, I am helping my people! I give them hope and freedom, and I have for thousands of years! I even gave them a really nice party tonight, one that you ended up ruining with your rudeness! Speaking of that, there is an ongoing vigil to stop the all the terrible terroristic violence over at the Statue of Libertine right now. Why don't you join them, dear Evie? I've even been told an old friend wants to meet you there! When I'm done with the Tower of Reason, I can visit, and we can let bygones be bygones! I've been informed that the souls of ten thousand people became inspired to blissful peace this evening alone!"
Evanora did not respond as she continued to run. She probably didn't have a snappy comeback to these clear and present facts. And her Daddy loved her. He did! Of course he did!
The governor laughed, and continued to scold Evanora, gloating in her inevitable victory. Fate was on her side, Langwidere knew definitively. It was all so beautifully just as planned, so the universe wouldn't let her lose! These thoughts emboldened her, causing Langwidere to laugh raucously. "So, it looks to me like you've lost our little competition! As you have probably seen by now, I've mastered soul transference, and I've saved my worlds! It seems you're still just some nobody wicked witch of the east that no one cares about! You never should have come here, but I'm almost glad you came! And I-"
With a surge of power, the lights began to flicker in her mirrored parlor, and the connection to Evanora was now lost. Shit!
You're right, Langwidere. This really was all just as planned! Thanks for all the fun! an unfamiliar polyphonic whisper then unexpectedly passed through Langwidere's soul. The voice somehow reminded her of her daddy, and all the other dumb Magoses and other losers on Mars that always tried to keep her down. The voice then screamed directly into the governor's very being: Your fate is MINE!
Who was that, and how dare they use that loud tone with her?! What was going on? Who was-
A knock at her parlor door surprised her!
"What in the Warp is going on!?" the governor shouted, her voice charged with angry power. In her emotional state, the governor was now surrounded by a slight halo of blue and magenta energy that glowed about her upper body.
A pause, and whoever it was behind the door began to emanate fear.
"M-my lady governor, Evring Sinclair's yacht, the Shower of Gold, was just witnessed departing spaceport Alpha. We know Lord Justinian Sinclair has been looking for him, but he does not answer his calls. What should we-"
"No one gives a shit about that drunk spoiled brat!" Langwidere growled as she realized that she had smudged her eyeliner in her anger. Curse this entire evening! "Do you have any other news for me, or are you just wasting my time?"
"Yes, my lady governor. Your shuttle is now prepped and ready for your visit to the Tower of Reason. We are at your command."
Langwidere sighed heavily as she sat at her desk, and held her head in her hand. With her psychic senses, the governor reached through the Warp as she sought her double, and prepared to ask it for an update on the siege, and if they were still scheduled to break through soon.
Before she could receive her update, another unexpected surprise befell her as the ground began to violently quake! The awful sound of the shattering of her innumerable perfect mirrors filled the air as Langwidere stood up, completely dumbstruck with surprise. The governor found that she was now actually becoming afraid! What was all this? What was happening to all her beautiful plans? Evring was gone, Justinian had been kidnapped, Evanora was escaping, and now an earthquake? How much worse would it get?
The governor actually cried out in pain when she then felt the Warp grow quiet from the Tower of Reason's efforts. Well, that explained that. The Tower of Reason was still intact, Warp damn it! Did Evanora actually plan all this? Did the Wicked Witch come to Tar Vigaz with the intention of ruining the governor's life? How dare she! How dare she! And how dare she tell the governor that Daddy couldn't stand her! Such a nasty lie! Such rudeness and cruelty!
Taking deep breaths, Langwidere attempted to calm herself as her heart continued to beat heavily, pushing adrenaline and along with other strange chemical compounds into her mostly-synthetic veins. Standing near her desk, the governor then noticed that the screen had flickered back on once again. Lines of desperate text were now displayed upon it, and a blinking red light adjacent to the display suggested that this message was urgent. A cursory look showed that it appeared to be an automatic response from the one of the interplanetary surveillance satellites, or maybe the minefield. She didn't even want to read it. Surely, it could not get any worse this evening, could it?
The evil polyphonic laugh passed through her soul again, and the governor felt existential fear grip her circuits.
With a trembling hand covering her open mouth, Langwidere then knew that it could indeed get worse as she read the automated early warning system text:
Warning! Xenos war fleet in system! Suggestion, initiate mine defense protocol, full coverage. Contact Magos Nimmie Amee, Tower of Reason, defensive plan 1A-A. Threat level: Omega: Severe, Apocalyptic.
"This... this is all Evanora's fault. All of this," Langwidere furiously hissed as she felt the room quake beneath her again. "She did this. She showed up to my world to destroy it. She planned all this! This is all her fault, and I... I will make her pay. Yes, I will."