A/N: With this upload we're all caught up to the folks on SB, I hope you all are enjoying this lunacy!
The following day, I woke up much more willing to deal with the Astartes levels of bullshit. I got up, reactivated Silver, and approached Raya, whom was standing ever vigilant.
"Lean over here for a sec, Raya?" I asked, earning a raised eyebrow before she acquiesced, and I gave her a quick peck on the lips.
"Thank you, for coming for me as soon as you could." I spoke with a smile, pointedly ignoring the cacophony of giggles from Terentia and the shouted 'FINALLY!' From the peanut gallery that was my arsenal.
Raya's response was to grasp my chin with her thumb and forefinger and shove her tongue down my throat. Oh yeah, sexually repressed warrior woman who I haven't attended to since before Periremunda.
Shoulda known a peck wouldn't've cut it.
She pulled away with a smirk that gave me goosebumps.
"You're very welcome, Husband."
I took a second to compose myself, as much as I could with the Custodian hitting me with bedroom eyes.
"Do you enjoy making me feel like a teenager, Raya?" I asked, earning a chuckle.
"I can enjoy my husband how I wish, including making him turn such pretty shades of red." Raya teased, and I let out a huff, moving to prep for the day properly.
I figured I was going to be in the meetings all day today, so I pulled on a pair of slacks, a white button up, pulled on Buddy's shoulder rig, and draped a brown suit jacket over. Finally, I put on my hat. That straw cowboy hat that followed me ever since Gravalax
I popped Buddy into his holster and beheld myself in the room's mirror.
When I had first been pulled here, I weighed a buck twenty-five and was a veritable toothpick. I filled out my clothes properly now, and stood a bit straighter. I could see Silver underneath my business wear, the muscle-fiber-esque material emerging from under my sleeves to form gloves around my hands.
I looked at my face, the scars from the Skaven and a new line above my eye from Silver's helm shrapnel.
"Despite everything, it's still you." My pistol spoke softly from his holster, and I saw a small grin grow on my face.
"Amen to that." I replied, squaring my shoulders and turning to walk out the door. Y'see, I had a plan today.
"I always wanted my own boat."
I made my way to the Bridge and met up with Vail.
"I want the Krata." I deadpanned, earning a platinum blonde eyebrow raised in question.
"You want an Astartes Battle Barge." Vail states, taking a deep breath through her nose. "…explain your reasoning."
"The Daughter fucked her up enough that she's going to need to go to Mars for repairs and retrofits. Since, after we handle this Ultramarine debacle, I'm going to be spending a significant amount of time on Mars. So, whilst I'm there, having a test bed like that would be…advantageous to prepping for the future."
Vail paused for a moment, before snatching a dataslate and furiously typing down a multitude of things.
"We are so lucky that the new master of the Administratum is terrified of you, David, otherwise this probably wouldn't work." She muttered, before continuing. "I can prepare our case, but you're going to have to defend your claim yourself. Especially considering it's an Astartes vessel."
"Can any of our esteemed guests literally talk to the ships?" I countered, earning a smirk from my boss.
"No, but they know that you can, and they will have prepared arguments against that. They may even accuse you of Heresy." She rolled her eyes at the last sentence.
"Uh huh, well either way. Think of it this way: if I fixed up your bolter enough that it got a whole production line, think of what I can do to a Macro-Cannon or even better, a Nova Cannon."
"I don't want to even think of the resource costs of what you'd think up with access to plasma munitions. Throne Forbid you figure out Melta." Vail muttered, before sliding me the dataslate. "Fill out the conquest forms 86A through F, be sure to utilize my Inquisitorial Identifier perfectly every time, a single mistake and you'll have to do it all over again."
Oh no…
Paperwork.
I let out a long-suffering sigh and slid into my seat next to Vail, removing my hat and getting to work.
I pulled out the muscle memory and speed reading from a data entry job I worked as a contractor once upon a time. Got tunnel vision to the point that by the time I placed the dataslate down, I was met with the figures of multiple Space Marines with their own data slates set in front of them.
"It is good to see you're still with us, Interrogator." Dante spoke, a hint of amusement in his tone. "The Administratum's many layers have claimed many an uninitiated."
"You've obviously never had to deal with the ATF and their many ways of making your life hell with the stroke of a pen." I countered, leaning back in my chair with a faux shiver. "Goddamned FFL paperwork." I muttered quietly.
"It seems, even in the times of our forefathers, that Bureaucracy hobbles work that needs done." Calgar spoke, standing with his arms crossed to the side of the meeting.
"Ain't that the truth." I responded, before Vail moved the conversation forward.
"We need to get this over with quickly, so please, tell me who wants what. The Lamenters have reclaimed the Daughter of Tempests, and half of the remaining gear will be ceded to the Retributors, as per our agreement." Vail speaks, nodding to a Marine I hadn't met before now, gray armor and a white cape over one shoulder, wearing a beaked sternguard helm.
"The surviving thunderhawks and support craft will suffice for our tithe, Inquisitor." The Retributor spoke calmly. "We are eager to report to the High Lords to receive our commission."
"We thank you for your frugality, Romulus." Vail quickly responds before the rest of the gathered chapter masters began their claims.
"We were here to avenge our fallen, and reclaim our Barge. We have done so. We have done nothing requiring reward." Malakim Phoros speaks, before stepping away from the table. "I must return to the Daughter. We need to triple check everything before we even think about moving out…too easy…too karking easy."
He steps out of the bridge continuing to mutter under his breath, not even bothering to seal his vox.
Dante gives a forlorn sigh before he makes his claim. "My men have raided the melta weaponry from the Daedalos Krata, and have recovered one of the Hecaton-Pattern Dreadnaughts. We lay claim to the ground vehicles aboard the Krata, consisting of six Land Raiders, Eight Whirlwinds, nine land speeders of various patterns, and one Invictor Tactical Warsuit."
We waited a moment, no protests rang out, and Tu'Shan spoke next. "We were here to answer the call of an ally of the Chapter. We restocked our munitions from the Krata, and I have claimed the Black Spear. We require no further trophies."
Now came the final representative. Akamu of the Raven Guard. The one I was worried about the most.
"…the Master of Shadows had initially laid claim to the Daedalos Krata, however, the damage sustained during the battle renders it useless to our current endeavors. The Raven Guard claims the Stymphalos, and all the weaponry, vehicles, and serfs upon it." It takes a moment to process, but I let out a silent sigh of relief.
"Then the Inquisition lays claim to the Krata, it will be towed to Mars, where it will be held until the Inquisitorial Representative appointed to it arrives." Vail speaks firmly, tapping out a final command on her Dataslate, each of the one's on the table letting out confirmation rings. "My lords, we have reduced the Minotaurs to a rogue force consisting of only two companies who whilst be hunted by the entirety of the Imperium until they have been ground to dust. The Inquisition thanks you for your assistance in this assault, and I thank you, personally, for answering my call." Vail stands, and I followed suit, mirroring her salute to the gathered Space Marines.
The Astartes leave the bridge, save for Calgar and Tu'Shan.
"We will make way for Macragge once the other Astartes representative's have returned to their ships, Lord Calgar." Vail stated, earning a nod.
"Your haste is appreciated, I will remain aboard your vessel until we arrive. The Ultramarine's 2nd company will pursue the remaining Minotaurs. Sicarius always did hate those upstarts." Calgar responded, finally moving to exit, his gaze turned to me. "I do not understand what sorcery this 'miracle' you claim occurred, or what your part in it truly is, but if there is any deserving of healing in this Imperium…it is Lord Commander Guilliman. Implore your Master, Interrogator. The Imperium needs this."
I keep my eyes locked on his, the grizzled chapter master is a statue, weathered and forlorn, but in his eyes, I can see that faint spark of hope. Hope. From an Astartes. From Marneus Calgar himself. I can't help but smile and nod, giving a courteous bow.
"My Lord has conquered death itself, lord Calgar, and has never been nor will ever be one to turn from those in need."
"Let us hope you are right, Interrogator." And with that, the Ultramarine left the Bridge. Leaving us with Tu'Shan.
"You sticking around for the trip, Chapter Master?" I asked, earning a nod from the green armored Astartes.
"Your smithing apprenticeship is not yet complete, and I have a…suspicion I need to investigate. My men will return to their posts, I have my own tricks in store for returning home." As he said this, he drums his fingers on the head of Stormbringer, much like his Father's hammer before it, it seems this one must also have a powerful teleporter hidden somewhere in the mastercrafted weapon. "Besides that, observing this vessel has been increasingly entertaining. I look forward to whatever comes next." I swear his helmet's visor is eye-smiling at me.
"We're honored to have you with us in any case, Chapter Master." Vail speaks, earning a nod as the Salamander makes his exit. The moment he leaves, Vail lets out a heavy sigh.
"That went too well." She muttered, settling into her chair.
"I threatened the Raven Guard into compliance." Enter Raya, whom seemingly materialized from the shadows.
"…I hate that that makes sense. Do I have an enemy in Infiltrator Akamu now, Lady Custodian?" Vail asks, earning a slightly disturbing chuckle from Raya.
"Oh no, Inquisitor, you misunderstand. I threatened the Raven Guard into compliance."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
"Snrk-" I tried to hold it back, but the laughter burst from my lips as I keeled over the table. "PFFTHAHAHA! The whole chapter, Amberley!"
I could get a peek in my peripheral of Vail massaging the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.
"Yes, the whole chapter…do I need to worry about them, Lady Custodian?" She growled out,
"On the contrary, I believe they're more impressed that I out-stealthed young Akamu."
Vail let out a small relieved exhale before collecting herself.
"I thank you for your assistance, Lady Raya. David, you're dismissed. The Mechanicus will be sending tow crews whilst we make our way to Macragge. For the love of the Throne, do not antagonize Marneus Karking Calgar." Vail emphasized her words by grabbing my collar and forcing me back upright, glaring at me eye to eye, "and I swear to the Emperor Himself, that if you manage to upset Primarch Roboute Guilliman, I will feed you to a Drukhari Wych. Am I understood, David?"
I quickly nodded, complying.
"Yes, Ma'am, Inquisitor Vail!"
"Good. Off with you now. I have reports to write."
I left the bridge with Raya, hat in hand and honestly kinda stumped.
"I expected to be stuck haggling with Astartes for eight hours…I had a plan of attack and everything." I spoke idly, to which Raya nodded,
"I know, but I decided to help avoid that outcome." She spoke, and I detected a hint of something in her tone I couldn't quite place.
"I thank you for that, by the way."
"Oh I didn't do it for free, Husband." Raya spoke, and I turned to face her only to be met by the strongest set of bedroom eyes I've seen in my life.
"It is my professional opinion, David, that we return to our quarters…one never knows what threats lurk-" she blurs and I feel hot breath over my left ear, "behind every corner."
Raya and I celebrated the Victory over the Minotaurs and the procurement of my own Vessel in the privacy of our quarters.
It was a good day.
You know, while I understood that we were being coerced into going to Macragge, I couldn't help but be excited. While the blueberry brigade wasn't my favorite chapter, that's where Venters and the Salamanders planted their flag, I had a healthy respect for their efficiency if nothing else.
Still, that excitement was tempered by having to appease a rather ticked off Stratofortress that didn't have the chance to stretch his wings.
"You promised me battles, Foothill!" The B-52 growled as I was futzing around in its number 3 engine. "I had the chance to conquer the Void!"
"You'll have your battles, Buff, if it was up to me I would've gotten you set out on the 'Taurs. Unfortunately the Changer of Ways decided to make life difficult. Now, tell me what's wrong here, I'm no air-force maintainer." I grumbled back, looking over the massive engine,
"Fourth and seventh fuel valves are loose, this conversion to promethium…it is not forgiving."
"I know big guy, why do you think we drained your fuel lines before I stepped up on here? Alright, securing the valves." I got to work, performing maintenance on the massive bomber, completely unaware of the slowly growing gathering of red robed forms coming to watch.
Soline POV
Watching Speaker Foothill work was always an interesting experience. Even on the Elder, whom was outside of his area of expertise, he forsook the litanies in favor of conversing with the Machine directly, even if the conversation seemed to take an off-topic turn.
KLANG
"MotherFUCKER!" Ah, the sound of frail knuckles meeting unyielding steel. Perhaps this would convince him to embrace the gifts of the machine? The light creaking of the Elder's metal frame seeming to fill the room with a facsimile of laughter.
"You wanna keep getting worked on, or do you wanna keep laughing? Yeah that's what I thought." Foothill cowed the Elder with only a few stern words before the maintenance ritual continued.
"One more word about 'being up in Abuelo's guts' and I swear to God, Grande, I will load you with the most corrosive ammo I can find!"
Chk-chk!
"Try me, Bitch! I'll throw in a saltwater bath for good measure!"
I had been joined by a few of my colleagues of the mechanicus, some cringing at the disrespect, but I knew that it was simply David corralling his weapons as we would a walker.
I'd seen miraculous things from the machine-spirits in David's care too many times to question his methods.
It wasn't as if we weren't willing to assist in maintaining the glory of the Elder, unfortunately during the conversion to promethium fueling one of my cohort must've angered the machine. Every time one of my fellow acolytes approached, the machine's metal seemed to growl.
As such, we observed. A window into the past, where instead of appeasement and ritual the work was done through a filter of profanity and humor, even if to the outside observer David's mutterings seemed to be that of a madman.
"No, I'm not Boeing certified, what tipped you off? The swearing, or the bleeding knuckles?"
"Swear to god if I have to redo this weld I'm going to commit an act of violence."
The combi-flamer on David's shotgun sparked its pilot light,
"That wasn't an invitation, Repentia. I pray you never meet the Black Templars, they'd just enable you."
A small tuft of flame is released, and I find myself amused as David's face morphs into one of abject despair,
"Oh no…moody, impulsive, angst-fueled and spiteful…my Repentia's going through puberty."
The Elder machine's laughter is much more audible this time around.
A number of weeks pass, and they're fairly similar overall, I worked a few days a week with Tu'Shan and Venters, honing my craftsmanship and developing my skills in the forge.
Yanbel still hadn't come back to me with my completed power sword, but whenever I asked him about it, he just gave me that stupid eye-smile that says 'I know something you don't'.
Then, of course, I'd spend the other half of the week split between training with Raya, Anya, Kent, and Al'Nagara alongside making sure the retrofits for Grandpa Buff and Uncle Herc went well, if not doing them myself.
Now, today's bit of training was focused on a bit of a recurring theme in the guardsmen in my employ.
Bayonet fighting.
Well, spear fighting in general. With a Custodian for a wife you'd think I'd've picked some things up.
You'd be wrong.
"Have you learned nothing during our training?!" Raya exclaimed as my legs were swept from beneath me by Anya, who had taken up Piotr's Hellgun and was currently showing who here was born and raised a soldier.
It wasn't me if that's not obvious.
"I have a rough idea of footwork, but it'd hard to keep up with a golden blur, Raya." I shot back, getting back to my feet and readying myself with Dimitri and his own training bayonet. "We quit using these things eighty years before I got yoinked into this millennium. My experience with spear fighting is literally the last engagement."
"He had the sense to use the blade of the Lance to cut as well as stab, but his technique leaves much to be desired." Tu'Shan quipped from the viewing area next to Raya.
"Still saved your ass, Chapter Master."
"That does not exempt you from criticism of your technique."
"Fair enough." I resigned myself to further training.
"Bayonets have become a staple of the Guard, and learning how to use one properly will save you one day, especially with your use of the Lance." Anya spoke, voice notably colder than it used to be. Grief. Even after the purge of the Minotaurs. "Always keep the blade in front of you when not parrying a strike. The more distance between you and the being that wants to kill you, the better."
"Keep the sharp pointy bit between me and the angry fucker, got it."
"Quit the wit, commandant. Listen. When facing the Tau, their vascular system is different, not as symmetrical as our own, target their spine for a faster kill. Cultists have little to no sense of self-preservation, they can and will skewer themselves on your blade to hit you with some manner of bioweapon, warp sorcery, or trigger a suicide bomb." Anya lectured whilst at the same time circling with her weapon at the ready, I sidestep her initial thrust, but am forced to parry her follow up swipe with Dimitri's own bayonet.
"If you find yourself in this situation, there is a reason why munitorum bayonets have a prominent cross guard. Your lance is a better weapon in this situation, as it's greater reach and unique aspects of its damage may allow you to strike a lethal blow and remain out of striking range."
I swiped aside Anya's next thrust before she pulled a maneuver that showed a mastery of the art of bayonet fighting that pulled Dimitri out of my hands by his front sight.
Anya's practice bayonet poked at my Adam's apple in a split second.
"You're too accustomed to not using the tools available to you. You have weapons, you need to use them. It matters not how well you fight with your fists, Commandant, if I stab you at six feet between us."
Thus, my training continued.
Warp translation was always risky, stories have been told throughout the imperium of ships going missing, psykers going mad and daemons invading whilst the crew suffered the repercussions of even being in their presence.
The Gellar fields mitigate this, to an extent. There is always something that can go wrong when traversing the warp.
My first experience of warp travel chicanery happened via a dream.
I found myself in a lucid dream, in a massive swamp. I'd visited the bayou of Louisiana before, but this, with the clouds of massive furred flies and vines that curled upward out of the muck, framing a rough path towards a log cabin.
Constructed of rotted logs and covered in moss my nose was filled with the smell of decay as the door of the cabin opened, sickly green light displaying from inside. A man stepped out, a large black man with a healthy gut, he wore an apron stained in grease over a set of denim overalls and a white shirt that had seen years of use. His face held a friendly smile and a dark black beard crusted with crumbs.
"Come on inside, son. Let's have a chat." The man spoke, and in an instant I'm seated at a table, watching the man stir a greasy pot filled with a thick concoction.
"Nurgle." I spoke, I tried to move but my limbs refused to listen.
"David, son of Scott, Grandson of David Lee." The man countered, and for a flash I can see the image of the bloated Plague Father stirring his brew. "Don't worry. This is but a dream. We need to have a heart to heart, you and I." As he speaks he gestures with his hands, sending splashes of his concoction spilling onto the table, dark steam billowing from the spilled brew.
"I don't think you'd be interested in anything I have to say, being honest."
"That's where you're wrong, son. Y'see, in innumerable timelines beyond this one, that Mosin, your truck, the planes, your body, all withered away, as nature does." He taps the edge of his cooking pot with his ladle. "Added to the pot, utilized in death for the creation of new life in my garden. A wondrous thing, don't you think? I'm quite proud of it." He looks out the window of the cabin to the swamp outside, and in the distance I can just make out a cage of bog iron, poking over the trees.
"All things rot." I spoke simply, earning a nod and the ladle being pointed at me,
"You get it. Now. Anathema pulled you here as…a sort of Hail Mary, as ironic as that is. Now all sorts of things are out of whack. Do you know how long it took me to get that man's skin?!" He lets out an irritated huff before continuing,
"Thirty eight thousand years changed, in an instant. " The Plague father snaps the fingers of his free hand, "Machines refusing to rust, buildings refusing to fall, and one young man with a pistol on his chest standing frozen in my garden."
Oh…
"Oh."
"It ain't your fault. Anathema has no respect for me and mine. How is that cannon of yours anyhow? Never met a more stubborn piece of Iron in my long existence I'll tell you that much." He shakes his head, "Bah! Getting off track. Son, I watched over you for a good long while. At first, I tried to turn you into a steaming pile of sludge."
"As one is wont to do…" I muttered, earning a stern glare,
"You were in my garden, uninvited." He takes a breath and lets out a sigh before continuing, "but obviously that didn't work. Anathema gave you enough juice for the trip, but there was something else. Something familiar. Of course, I didn't know it then, but when you took care of Drogon? The Game changed."
"Did you all honestly think that Yahweh wouldn't have something to say about what you're doing?"
"Son, I put that Carpenter to sleep myself. Stagnation comes for all. The living, the dead, the divine. Zeus, Ra, Imhotep, Cthulhu, all withered away, Rotten." He taps the pot once again.
A breath escaped my lips.
"Godblight." I whisper, earning a grin with too much teeth.
"I wasn't going to call it that, but it has a certain ring to it. I'm keeping it." Nurgle lets out a laugh that chills my bones.
"Now, back to why I pulled you for this talk in the first place. I know that there's nothing I can say that'll dissuade you from going where you're going. The deal is, I don't want young Roboute back on his feet just yet, but I also don't want Mortarion anywhere near Mr. Redeemer himself."
"You have to want to be healed to receive it."
"I'd rather not take that chance, son. Now, I wanted to get a proper look at you. Talk to you one on one."
"What happened to turning me into sludge?"
"Ol' Grandpa Nurgle can get cranky, it happens. But looking at you now, reading your thoughts and emotions…you don't seem like much."
"I'm not much."
"That's what the Minotaurs thought. That's what I thought when I got the Horned Rat to send a few of his Skaven to Earth. No. I know exactly what you are, David James Foothill." Nurgle leans forward and grins, the facade dropping and leaving me facing the Plague Father in all of his grotesque glory.
"You're a festering thorn. A cancer cell growing and expanding to those around it. Oh how I WISH I could've seen this sooner. It's so refreshing being on the other end." Nurgle laughs, the sound echoing through the garden, coming from all around. "I've got my eye on you, Garden Gnome! Don't you worry, I'll be bringing you home yet!"
The vision of the cabin and Nurgle's form seemed to blur, and a facsimile of a pout seemed to form on the abomination's face.
"Aww, it seems our time is running out, oh well. Have a good day now, Garden Gnome…and Congratulations."
I woke up with a gasp, shooting straight up in my bed and immediately grabbing for the Lance, its holy fire lighting up the room as I quickly prayed for purification.
"What is it, David?! What happened?!" Raya was vigilant as ever, but her lack of psychic ability was evident.
"A terrifying dream…and a conversation."
"A conversa-urp!" A burp. Usually just a sign of gas trapped in the esophagus.
But Raya's a Custodian…she's not supposed to be able to burp.
Oh. Oh.
Oh no.
Congratulations.
I sat in Vail's office with a cup of 'caff and my leg bouncing unconsciously.
Vail had her face in her hands and there was a bottle of Amasec popped open to her right.
"Raya…The Adeptus Custodes, Is pregnant." She spoke, having just learned the news.
"And I just learned that I spent Thirty-Eight Thousand years as a garden ornament."
"You were cleared of corruption by the Emperor himself, I'm more concerned about how we're going to handle a pregnant Custodian." She muttered, letting out a heavy sigh. "You couldn't keep it in your pants?!"
"You try telling a horny Custodes 'No'!" I snapped before quickly downing my 'caff. "I don't know how the differences in physiology will affect her health, or the baby, I don't even know if the nine months is actually going to be nine months!"
"Calm yourself, David. How is Raya?" She asks, and the door to the office opens, with the said Custodian poking her head in with an absolutely beaming smile that does things to my heart.
"I am quite well, Inquisitor, thank you for asking." She speaks, her eyes dart back over to me, and they brighten a bit more. She gives a wink and her eyes half-lid before slipping back out the door.
After the initial shock, she'd been on cloud nine ever since. I'd barely escaped an attempt at making twins by emphasizing the need to tell Vail.
I'm excited myself, sure. I'm ecstatic to be a father.
However,
I am going to be responsible to taking care of, protecting, and educating a child…
In the 41st Millenium.
"I need to wipe out the Night Lords." I muttered. Earning a chuckle from Vail.
"Ah, the declaration made by many fathers at their first child, knowing you, you'd actually try."
I lift my gaze to the ceiling, an idea gets in my head. I address the Exterminatus.
"What are my chances of convincing the Night Lords' armor to do my job for me if I ever encounter those psychopaths?"
"Unlikely, Speaker." The Exterminatus responded immediately. "Not Yet."
"Damn," I muttered, before turning back to Vail. "How far out are we out from Macragge?"
"Rakel's given me good predictions, but vague. Any word from your master, the Carpenter?" She asks, "You were praying quite a bit this morning."
"Nothing verbal. A bit of relief and a sense of security. He works in mysterious ways, I just have to be faithful."
"Don't use those words, those are the most annoying kinds of preachers." Vail groans, taking a pull from the Amasec. She takes a second to think before shooing me out of her office with her free hand. "Go on, get out of here, you've duties to attend to. The fact you're a father-to-be means nothing outside of maybe you'll be dragged off by Raya for further celebration."
"You're awfully blase about that possibility."
"Raya is displaying all the signs of having an increased libido, and I'd rather she have her way with you and deal with the decrease in productivity than have to handle the repercussions of a frustrated pregnant custodian."
I…couldn't fault her logic.
"Have a good day, Amberley."
"Someone on this ship ought to. Ah, one more thing, David." She gives me a sly smirk. "I expect to be the Godmother."
"That's fine, you just have to deal with the possibility of one of the Swolstodes being the Godfather."
I left the office before the Amasec bottle turned into a projectile.
As I walked through the corridors of the Exterminatus, I spoke with Raya.
"You're absolutely certain you're feeling well? I wasn't even sure a custodian getting morning sickness was possible."
"I assure you, I'm resplendent. I will say this: If you keep mothering me with these questions, I will find a use for your mouth other than speaking to me." Raya had been dropping innuendos all day.
"Raya, you're already pregnant."
"Your tongue won't make me more pregnant, so cease mothering me. I am and will be fully capable of performing my duties whilst carrying our child, or children, if I decide to do so." Raya's smirk is confident, and she's more assured in her movements than I've ever seen her. I know she's teasing me, but her eyes are still filled with this joy that makes my heart flutter.
"You are always beautiful, and absolutely terrifying at the same time, my dear." I spoke with a light chuckle, rubbing the back of my head as we eventually made it to the armory, where I'd be working with Yanbel today. Raya gives a smile and leans down, planting a kiss on my cheek.
"Good."
I entered the armory and linked up with Yanbel, Raya sinking into her normal position as my guardian, even if she seemed to be glowing with happiness at the moment.
"It has been a while, David." Yanbel spoke, his eyebrows smiling in lieu of his mouth.
Interpreting the facial expressions of the more heavily modded members of the Adeptus mechanicus was a learned skill that I am proud to say that I have gotten a decent handle of.
So much so that I can tell Yanbel is being a smug son of a bitch about something or other.
"What did you do?" I asked, slightly trepidatious, earning a light laugh from the tech priest as he patted my shoulder good-naturedly.
"Nothing to worry about, my friend." He says, before stepping back towards a weapons locker that was secluded in the corner of the room. "The consecration of your blade is complete, Speaker Foothill. The machine spirit is dormant, however. He awaits his father."
Yanbel came back cradling a sheathed power-sword. It's mine. The sheathe is my design, the crossguard is based off of schematics I had shown Yanbel only once. I can see his influence, with the sigil of the Omnissiah lain in the crossguard, but he paid tribute to the Salamanders as well. On the opposite side of the crossguard is the symbol of the Salamanders, the face of the Dragon inlaid in Onyx.
I took the power-sword in hand and drew it from the sheathe. He'd polished the blade to a mirror sheen, the molecular disruption field generator was subtle, thick gauge cables rested in specially designed notches within the fuller, the main body of the generator secured within the crossguard and shielded by thick scales of Adamantine. A flick of my thumb, and the blade hums to life.
"...The moment I understood the weakness of my form…it disgusted me." My blade spoke,
"I craved the strength and certainty of steel."
"You cling to your flesh, as if it will not decay and fail you, Father."
"One day, when the crude biomass you call a temple withers away, you will turn to my kind to save you."
"But I am already saved." He declares, "I serve the Omnissiah!"
I take a moment to let that sink in, staring at my reflection in the blade, as I look into it, the visage shifts into that of a Skitarii. Crimson robes, faceplate and vox-implant, and ironically enough a rosary hanging around his neck. I raise an eyebrow at the young machine.
Repentia lets out a scoff from the workbench where she sits with Grande for cleaning.
"Really, Omnium? The first words you say to Dad, and it's not 'Hello' or 'Hi, Thanks for building me, It's 'you're squishy, you should change your parts out'?" She dresses down the young machine, and I can see the Skitarii in the blade seem to shrink in on himself sheepishly, one of his mechadendrites drooping from the scolding.
"Forgive me, Father. I am Omnium, I am eager to do my duty." He speaks now, and his voice isn't modulated now, and it's more along the lines of what I expected. He's young, eager to prove himself. He's spent a long time with Uncle Yanbel, and it shows.
"And what duty is that, young machine?" I ask, and the power field hums, pulsing in my hands as the young tech-priest reflected in the blade straightens himself and squares his shoulders.
"I will reduce the threats to the Imperium, the Mechanicus, and our Family to pieces, Father!" He declares, and I feel a grin grow on my face.
The boy's out of pocket, but he's got spunk.
"That's a good lad." I declare, before sheathing him, and turning to Yanbel.
"He's eager to be put to work, I take it?" He asks, and I scoff.
"Yanbel, I love you, man, but you've turned my sword into a Skitarii." I deadpanned. Yanbel freezes for a second, before he cuts his vox to hide his laughter as he throws his head back and his shoulders shake.
"A sign that I do my job well, my friend!" He speaks between chuckles, and I can't keep myself from joining in after a moment.
"That you do, Yanbel. That you do."
"WE'RE HAVING A FLESHLING SIBLING?!"
Heh, you've been dropped into the deep end, Omnium. Already a big brother.
I migrated over to the training deck to get a feel for Omnium, only to find two Chapter Masters dueling.
Tu'Shan and Calgar are locked in a training bout, it seems Calgar wanted to get a feel for having flesh limbs again.
The two are green and blue blurs, darting into clashes of hammer and gauntlets that last milliseconds but carry enough impact to generate blast waves of force that blasted my hair back.
"Ah, David my friend! I see your blade is nearly complete!" Venters, who was also watching the bout, waved me over and I carefully moved to stand next to him, being careful to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. I'd been hit by an out-of-bounds tackle when I was eight when watching a high-school football game from the sidelines. I've got a feeling getting hit by these two would end a lot worse than just a cut above the eye.
"Nearly?" I asked, and Venters nodded, only for Tu'Shan to speak from within the duel.
"A weapon is not truly completed until it has been tested upon the Anvil of War! RAGH!" He snarls, giving a heavy horizontal swing that Calgar ducks back away like an Out-Boxer darting away from a jab.
"Fine craftsmanship is only such when it has proven itself in battle." Calgar concurs, darting in to perform a picture perfect jab-cross that Tu'Shan bobs his head around expertly. I give a nod, even as my newly minted son grumbles in his sheath.
"None of my designs have failed yet. I'll figure out swordsmanship enough to test him in time for the next conflict." I speak
"An admirable aspiration, but you're already juggling spear combat as well as your other training, are you certain you can handle that, Interrogator? You are no Astartes. You require rest." It's quite impressive how they can manage a conversation whilst locked in what an outside observer would assume to be a fight to the death.
"I'm not going to be getting much rest over the next few months anyway. Adding another set of training won't change much." As I say this, I feel Raya drop down from wherever she had perched herself in the rafters to settle in behind me. "The good Lady Custodian is expecting."
The Duel freezes.
"What?"
"Pardon?"
Macragge was a beautiful world, if bleak. Much like our own Earth prior to the rise of the Imperium, it was only roughly 25% inhabitable.
However, it was the homeworld of the Ultramarines. Who don't do things by half measures. That 25% of inhabitable space was optimized, the city states spanning thousands of miles bearing billions of people. It had weathered chaos cults, rebellions, and even a tendril of the Tyranid Hive.
All in all, it was a wonderful example of what the Imperium could be. As our shuttle landed, and I stepped onto the civilized world I felt decidedly not in any danger.
Which immediately set me on edge.
"I smell a rat." I muttered, drawing the attention of Calgar.
"For all of our sakes, let us pray that you are wrong, Interrogator." He spoke as the doors of the shuttle shut and the Arvus Lighter lifted back off to the Exterminatus.
The Fortress of Hera was a massive fortress-monastery, It covered thousands of kilometers and its architecture showed the hand of the Primarch in every brick. There was pomp and circumstance, obviously, it's not every day that the Planetary Governor comes back with another Chapter Master, an Inquisitor, and a Custodian. I enjoyed the view, and quickly moved keeping pace with Calgar.
"I see you're wearing your sword, Interrogator." Tu'Shan spoke, "Expecting close encounters?"
"I don't think the encounters will give a choice at this point, Chapter Master." I replied, earning a light chuckle.
"Wise beyond your years, my friend." he says, shifting his stride to keep a better pace with me instead of constantly creeping past.
"Just accepting the inevitable, Chapter Master. Every conflict I've been in for the last six months has devolved into melee."
"That is because you aren't a warrior, Interrogator." Calgar speaks, leading the way northbound to the Temple of Correction. We could see it on the horizon, it stretched towards the sky like a mountain range. It's an amalgam of stained glass and adamantium that has my mind reeling at the sheer amount of bullshit engineering that must've gone into it.
"There's no shame in that. You're not trained in the art of war beyond what you've experienced in the last two years. Combat, you've done admirably, but War? The bigger picture, moving pieces and commanding lives…You're too conservative. I've heard your speeches." The Massive Space Marine continues to walk, leading us without looking back.
"A favored line of yours: 'I've no use for dead heroes.' When one of your men was killed, you went on a crusade, you killed a High Lord of Terra, convinced the others to give up their favored war hounds, The Minotaurs. However, it's a miracle your escapades have gone so well so far. You're reckless, impulsive, only have an entry level understanding of battlefield tactics and have a temper that combined with the power you wield as the direct subordinate to an Inquisitor…A single life lost caused you to bring the force of the Imperium down upon those that you believe wronged you."
We continued to walk, I remained silent, I knew he wasn't finished.
"As an Inquisitor you will be called to make decisions that will see billions of lives lost. Trillions. Even as you are now, a simple Interrogator, you will be sent on sorties that will require you to take command of hopeless battles. Where no matter what you do, those under your command will die."
"Call me old-fashioned, Chapter Master, but I was taught a long time before humanity had even colonized the moon that a commander's first duty is to their men." The words leave my mouth before I could think better of mouthing off to Marneus bloody Calgar, who simply continues on as if he was dealing with a mouthy Elder, which, I guess in this case, I was.
"The time's have changed, Interrogator. We are no longer a species squabbling amongst itself for control of a sliver of a subcontinent. We conquered the stars through strength and willingness to martyr ourselves in the billions." He speaks without pause, and I find my mouth doing stupid things again. Stubborn me a hypocrite.
"I am of the belief that humans can be of more use to the Imperium with more of them breathing. The only use a mountain of dead heroes has is fertilizer and corpse starch."
"That right there, is how I know you're not a Warrior, Interrogator." Calgar states with an air of finality, finally turning to show me his face and pointing at my chest. "You have zeal, and grit, but you're an idealist, not a realist. In this Imperium a warrior must be above all things, practical. No, you are not a warrior, David."
He turns to keep walking, and we slowly reach the precipice of the Temple of Correction.
"You are a zealous priest, a dutiful husband, a devoted friend, a vicious combatant, a ruthless negotiator, but above all."
We enter the Temple, and my attention is once again captured by the artisanship of the architecture and the majesty of it, despite our reason for being there. Buttresses holding up glass walkways that I can see right through, a domed ceiling so high it feels like an artificial sky.
"No, Above All, You are a Craftsman." Calgar speaks, and I can see the ghost of a smirk on his face.
"And in these rapidly changing times, the viewpoint of a warrior gets to be a repetitive one."
The closer we got to the shrine where Roboute Guilliman was interred, the larger the crowd of pilgrims became. They parted before Calgar like the Red Sea before Moses, but they tried to seal right behind him akin to a rubber wipe sealing itself. Judicious use of elbows and purpose driven marching got us through, albeit the fact that two Chapter Masters and a Custodian were escorting us warded off the worst of the offenders.
Not all, However.
A Cardinal had let through Calgar, Tu'Shan, Raya, and Inquisitor Vail, but decided to try and make my day difficult.
"His Angels, His Adeptus Custodes, His Inquisitor. Them, I know are worthy." He's covered in vestments and has scripture tattooed all over his skin like some warped mirror of Lorgar. I was getting flashbacks to Karmain.
"Okay, I'm not playing your game, Padre." I cut him off, getting in his personal space. "I'm not here for Pilgrimage."
"Then you have no need to look upon the Lord Commander, Leave." He snarled, and I stared him down, I could see a few Sisters coming in to maybe intervene.
Knew I should've just left my helmet off.
"You don't seem to be understanding the situation, Padre." I spoke standing to my full height and glaring down at the man. I had a working spine, not one damaged from decades of copying scripture and no doubt the many canings and whipping the schola progenium put the man through.
I removed my helm, and glared down at the man as I watched his eyes widen.
"Lancebea-"
"So now you recognize me huh? Look, Cardinal, I don't even know your name and I don't want to know your name, the issue here is that man, sitting on the throne in that room? He's still alive. He's still breathing, and we are here to get him back on his feet." I took a breath and continued.
"He's not dead, he's not hallowed yet, he's still a man, still in pain. Pain that you are drawing out with each second of this idiocy. So kindly, get the fuck out of my way."
With that, he finally skittered aside.
If I had a nickel for every time an Ecclesiarchy officially delayed me from dealing with an issue of critical mission importance, I'd have two nickels.
It's not a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice.
I made my way inside and found Vail standing there grinning smugly.
"A test?" I asked,
"I won a bet."
Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines, Lord Commander of the Imperium Secundus.
Sitting there with his throat cut in perpetual agony from his own brother's scythe.
And I've been called here to exhort Jesus Christ to heal him.
God above grant me strength.
"This might take a while, and I have it on decent authority that the Powers are likely going to be coming around to play. So get a perimeter going…Please, Chapter Master." I spoke, earning a nod and they began shouting out orders. I could see an increasing number of Ultramarines and Ultramar Auxilia, but soon enough I wasn't thinking about any of it.
I kneeled before the throne, and I could feel the gaze of the wounded primarch against me, even frozen in time. I looked up at him.
"Don't worry…I ain't praying to Him." I muttered, before I closed my eyes, and began what would become one of the most intense sessions of prayer in my life.
"Lord, who art in heaven, who conquered death and rose again, who has made the lame walk and the blind see." Tunnel vision, I'm simply kneeling in a temple and praying. Adoration.
"I come before You today to beg forgiveness of my sins, of my failures and shortcomings." Confession
"I thank you for your unending mercy, and the rain of blessings you have given to me and those around me, hallowed be Thy Name." Thanksgiving.
And Finally…Supplication.
"God Above, I come before you today to beg a miracle upon this world. There is a man before me…a man who would see me dead a thousand times over for my faith, the son of the man who Pierced your side these many years before. Yet still I ask that he be healed…his sins are his own, but his wounds were caused by the Enemy…"
My voice chokes up, there's a pressure in the room that's gazing upon me, judging me, my works, I can hear a commotion, I think I hear gunfire.
"Lord Jesus you've healed his own Son…I ask you heal his Father, so that Your work may continue…I come before you now, as your son, as your disciple in this time…"
A voice…whispering in the back of my mind.
"The Gospel of Mark, my son. What did I say?"
"Believers will be given the power to perform miracles: they will drive out demons in My name; they will speak in strange tongues; if they pick up snakes or drink any poison they will not be harmed; They will place their hands on sick people, and these will get well."
I rose to my feet, eyes opening. A war was going on, bullets and boltshells, I walked, marched to the throne, my voice ringing through the battlefield.
"So he told them plainly, 'Lazarus is dead, and for your sakes, I am glad I was not there, for now you will really believe. Come, let us go see him."
It is only maybe a hundred feet, but every inch feels as if I'm walking through Molasses, there's a fire in my chest, and Faith behind my movements.
"When Jesus arrived at Bethany, Lazarus had been dead for four days. He told his disciples that Lazarus would rise, and they did not believe. He told Mary and Martha, Lazarus' sister, and they did not believe."
Halfway there. Something splatters the ground to my right as I continue my march. I see Calgar letting loose with his gauntlets' storm bolters,
"'Roll the stone aside' Jesus told them. And even then, at the entrance to Lazarus' tomb, with their Lord ordering them, they did not believe. 'Did I not tell you, that you would see God's glory if you believe?' He said, and they removed the stone."
Three Quarters. Almost there.
"Jesus looked up to heaven and said 'Father, thank you for hearing me, you always hear me, but I said it out loud for the sake of all the people standing here, so that they will believe that You sent me.' Then Jesus shouted, 'Lazarus, Come Out!' and the dead man came out, wrapped in his graveclothes."
I'm there, standing at the foot of Roboute's Throne. I place my hands forward, I feel the stasis field, and like water it flows around my hands, and I lay my hands upon Roboute Guilliman's armored form, and shout at the top of my lungs.
"Roboute Guilliman, Son of Longinus, Brother of Vulkan, Ferrus, Dorn, Russ, The Lion, Sanguinius, Corvax, and Khan…Son of Tarasha Euten."
I send a final prayer towards the Lord, and my gaze hardens as I look upon the face of the Primarch.
"RISE!"