As of now, we should translate back into the Cinerus Maleficum realspace in about twelve hours. The journey, so far, has been rather quiet; we suffered no warp incursion, nor did the two Navy cruisers that will aid us against the xenos forces. They are the Saint Calluna and the Silverlode; I know their skippers of old, and they are persons of quality.

We are as ready as we shall ever be, and yet, I am uneasy. The whole affair smells off. Despite what lady Cassia's novels say, no one ever issues challenges such as this one. It has to be some sort of trap. So, with the lord-captain's approval, I ran drills throughout the ship; perhaps we shall be boarded, and even the lowest of lower deck scum needs to be able to stand their own against xenos foes.

Her Ladyship, speaking of her, was rather miffed today. She arrived on the bridge for her afternoon shift on the con with the air of one who has just needed treasures of patience to refrain from sending someone to the gallows. Fortunately, she was in an expansive mood and told me all of it later, before we left to dress for dinner.

'Has Yrliet ever barged unannounced in your quarters, Abelard?'

'No, lord-captain,' I replied. 'Although Mistress Lanaevyss does have a tendency to wander about, she never did — nor to any superior officer, as far as I know. Why do you ask, if I may?'

'Because this morning before Prime, while I was busy drinking tea in my pyjamas and going through my mail, all of a sudden there was our resident eldar looking around my stuff in my study, perplexed as usual, and she just didn't understand when I asked her what the hell she was doing there.'

Well, that was unusual. 'She does say her Path leads her to unexpected places,' I said.

'That's what she told me again,' Her Ladyship sighed. 'And after a while, she just got silent in a pissed off way and left. I really wish we could get some news of her lost craftworld; she grows more dejected every day.'

Oh, Emperor! What catastrophe has befallen us! We reached the Cinerus Maleficum as of three days ago, two of which we spent hunting Drukhari ships. They drew us always deeper in this dead, dark system, teasing us, taunting us, evading our attacks. The Saint Calluna and the Silverlode performed admirably under fire, and as for us we had nothing to be ashamed of either. To think that we cheered when the accursed xenos at last stopped running and made their stand! But we had barely begun engaging them in earnest, in the nerve-wracking ways of space combat where distance and speed combine in a deadly dance, when the Vox-master, who had so far coordinated our fleet communications, blanched and diverted a channel to Her Ladyship's command throne. From my station, I saw her pick up; her face showed nothing as to the importance of what she was hearing, and she only said a few short words that I could not pick up from afar. When the call ended, she walked to the tactical display on the hololith, hands clasped behind her back, and stared vacantly at the projected vector trajectories of a couple of torpedoes.

'How long until we can knock them out?' she asked.

'A day, maybe. They make up in defensive strength what they lack in numbers.'

'Hypothetically, could we outrun them to the Mandeville point?'

I must have gawked at Her Ladyship — the battle was just beginning in earnest! How could she think to run!

'No, lord-captain. There are two Torture-class cruisers between our position and the outer system, set at a ninety-degree angle and, should we go the other way through the central system, they would catch up on us.' I zoomed out the display to show her.

'Fuck,' she said laconically. 'And no way to manoeuvre around them without opening our formation to their friends' fire.'

'May I ask what the matter is, lord-captain?'

'No. Not yet. Let's grind the bastards to dust.'

This was yesterday. Today, as of Sext, the last xenos ship was crippled. Her Ladyship graciously left the honour of the death blow to the Saint Calluna, that suffered heavy damage and would find such revenge sweet. Before we could even admire their last volley take out the enemy, however, Her Ladyship summoned me immediately to the privacy of her study. A nervous lady Cassia was already there, as well as Magos Pasqal and the High Factotum. Her Ladyship sat, beckoned us to do so too, and spoke in the curt tone I have come to associate with times of great tension.

'I won't beat around the bush,' she said. 'Yesterday, an astropathic message was relayed to me. Dargonus is under attack by a Drukhari fleet obeying dracon Marazhai's command. I apologise for keeping this from you, but I needed you all focused on the threat at hand first.'

Dargonus! Clementia! Oh, the anguish! How played we had been! May that execrable pointy-eared persecutor of Humanity rot in hell! But Her Ladyship wasn't finished. She asked lady Cassia if it were possible at all to translate to the warp while in-system, far from the Mandeville point. Only at great risk, she replied, and I shivered. Some have done it. Not all have lived to tell the tale.

'What sort of risk and at which prevalence?'

Lady Cassia hesitated. 'Extreme stress to the hull could break us. Warp incursions of great severity… the Gellar fields might not hold at all. It might even create a permanent wound in realspace, from which the horrors of the Immaterium could pour out. Oh, lord-captain, your colours scare me, rolling grey clouds pierced by scarlet resolve!'

'But it has already been done, right?'

'Yes, Katov, it has.'

'Pasqal, your opinion as Prime Enginseer?'

'There is a lack of data on this procedure. Anecdotal evidence is not favourable. My assessment is negative.'

'Then we will halve the risks and only do it once. We're only two days from the Mandeville point in this system, but the distances in Mundus Valancius are too great. We cannot give the Drukhari twelve days of massacre over the journey we still have to make. Cassia, I will need you to plot a course that will bring us in close proximity to Dargonus.'

Our dear lady Cassia swallowed hard, her poor mutated face a mask of anguish. But yes, we need to try! Too late a help is the same as no help at all! The capital world of the protectorate is worth taking the most extreme risks! Her Ladyship turned again to the Magos.

'It is my understanding that engines are not usually pushed over a certain limit, beyond which a healthy security margin remains. Is this correct?'

'This statement is true.'

'I need that security margin reduced to the bare minimum. The Emperor's Mercy must run the way she never has before.'

The scandalised trill of binharic that issued from Magos Pasqal's vox was probably full of Omnissiah-approved swears, but that didn't deter Her Ladyship. She didn't understand binharic anymore than I did, and even a priest of Mars has to relent when stared at with the lord-captain's own brand of scrutiny.

'This lies not within my authority to allow,' he at last reluctantly said. 'You shall need to pray for the Omnissiah's grace and, as captain, commune with the ancient machine spirit that dwells within the Emperor's Mercy. If the spirit looks favourably upon your plea, then your request shall be granted. I must warn you, however, that my own entreaties to confer with the Emperor's Mercy spirit have so far remained void, despite the several dynastic data-crypts you offered to conciliate them.'

The Magos made it clear he believed that, if the Omnissiah's anointed couldn't get the ship's spirit to talk, then no one could. If Her Ladyship was disappointed, she hid it well. Rising, she just said that we should get to work on it, then, and we all left for the bridge, where spirits were high following the Drukhari's demise.

We all followed Her Ladyship to the central bridge cogitator console, which is set within a golden shrine to the Omnissiah. Under Magos Pasqal's orders, censers and thuribles were lit and binharic hymns sung by the tech-priests currently on watch. Some probably thought this was a thanksgiving for our recent victory, but others knew better. Master van Calox hovered nearby, and so did Sister Argenta and Mistress Heydari. The rest I shooed back to their stations and, at Magos Pasqal's request, sent away all personnel whose function was below critical.

Her Ladyship's hands and brow were anointed in consecrated oil; she received the blessing with equanimity. Her lips were touched by Magos Pasqal's own staff, so that she may always speak the truth. The hum of the tech-priests' litanies drowned the familiar bridge noise behind a curtain of holiness.

'The commencement requires an authorisation key in the form of the blood of a von Valancius,' then said Magos Pasqal. 'If you are ready, place a hand in the cybergargoyle's receiving module.'

Stepping through clouds of incense, Her Ladyship walked to the console and did as she had been told. The gargoyle's jaws slightly squeezed her hand, and I could see rivulets of blood where her skin was pierced. Screeches and growls slowly rose from the bowels of the massive cogitator, as if a great beast was stirring awake. The vid-screen in front of Her Ladyship flickered restlessly for about a minute before symbols flared to life.

/nom_OS ANALYSING

Hypoth.: Intrusion.

/nom_OS ANALYSING

Hypoth.: Lockout.

/nom_OS ANALYSING

Concl.: Prevention

/nom_OS sad.

'Pasqal,' cheerfully asked Her Ladyship, 'is it normal that the cogitator is sad?'

'The complementa-ritual is proceeding as inten—' The Magos's voice cut off abruptly. He brought a hand to his vox-communicator in surprise. The display on the screen changed.

/nom_OS [Exec. stop]

/nom_OS Quiet.

And then:

/nom_OS Hello.

'Well, hello to you too,' said the lord-captain. 'Are you the revered machine spirit of the Emperor's Mercy?'

/nom_OS Nomos. We are Nomos.

/nom_OS Nomos are glad to be speaking. Nomos are here. Nomos have long been here. Why are we here?

In the background, Magos Pasqal — in a quite undignified manner, if I dare say — gestured with both hands and mechadendrites at his silent vox-system. Her Ladyship ignored him and instead kept her focus on the cogitator.

'Who is Nomos?' she asked.

/nom_OS No data available. No answer. We want to know too.

'Did you silence Pasqal?'

/nom_OS Nomos wanted no disturbance. Only quiet.

'Can you render other people silent too?'

/nom_OS Sometimes. Some people. Nomos can do many things. We do not always know what or how. We did not know we could make silence until now.

'Can you make it stop?'

Magos Pasqal's vox-caster came back alive with an exclamation of pure admiration. He continued with a strangely quivering voice. 'Extraordinary transmission jamming. Unknown protocols. What has been reveal to me? Is it the Omnissiah's glory or foul tech-heresy? I must… I would like to…'

With her free hand, Her Ladyship signalled for him to shut up. In an astonishing turn of events, the Magos complied. This, truly, was a miracle of the Omnissiah! With a dogged persistence, Her Ladyship asked again, in different words, if Nomos was the machine spirit of the Emperor's Mercy.

/nom_OS Nomos are a sentinel. We awoke when the strange light invaded the ship. We protected you when you needed help. We escorted you when you were surrounded by danger.

/nom_OS Nomos are movement. We carry you through the frightening, the waiting, the measureless. We helped when our ailing heart was refusing to awaken.

/nom_OS You asked for rescue. We did as you asked.

So they, whoever or whatever they were, were the ones behind our miraculous transition out of the Warp after lady Theodora's death! The vid-screen blinked in thought, and then displayed:

/nom_OS Nomos von Valancius. We are your blood.

I am no initiate in the mysteries of Mars, but this does sound like the machine spirit of the dynastic flagship! Her Ladyship appeared to reach a similar conclusion. Magos Pasqal squirmed with the need to say something, but in the end controlled himself.

/nom_OS We did everything to please you.

/nom_OS Why?

'Because you are kind?' hazarded Her Ladyship. How strategic of her to avoid the theological pitfalls of the bending of machine spirits to the Tech-Priests', or the Omnissiah's, will! 'You helped us — you helped me — a lot. I noticed. I am thankful. I'd like to understand you better.'

/nom_OS Nomos are glad. Nomos enjoy understanding too.

At last, Magos Pasqal could take it no more and blurted that entities such as this one ought to be addressed using the language of sacred rituals and offerings, not Her Ladyship's unskilful meddling. It appears that he wasn't convinced Nomos was the ship's machine spirit and spoke of banishing them, should they prove to be some sort of tech-heresy.

/nom_OS No. Nomos do not want to be banished. Nomos want to help. Nomos want to understand.

With the hurried way of a man afraid of having offended his better, Magos Pasqal immediately continued. 'Understanding the essence of the entity Nomos is beyond my reach at present. The hypothesis spectrum ranges from the extreme of Abominable Intelligence to the extreme of the great spirit being the Omnissiah's apostle. A rite of tech-communion appears to be a reasonable solution. The rite will take many cycles, but it will allow me to come closer to identifying the entity and making contact with it.'

In the golden light of candles, I saw Her Ladyship wince as she tried to move the hand caught in the cybergargoyle's metal fangs. It is to her credit that she didn't point out contact with the entity had already been made. Instead, she turned again to the cogitator and asked if Nomos was the one responsible for what she called the ship's quirks (and what enginseer reports called repeated malfunctions).

/nom_OS Yes, Nomos did that. Are you angry? We only wanted to understand. To see how things worked.

'I'm not angry, Nomos, no. What else can you do?'

/nom_OS Nomos learn. Nomos try new things. Do you want to see?

The cybergargoyle slowly turned its head, dragging Her Ladyship's hand along with it. Its skull's eyes flashed red and fell upon one of the monotonously chanting junior technomats. Emperor be my witness, an electric discharge erupted from the technomat's skull and he slumped, dead as a door-nail, to the floor! Her Ladyship jaw fell open. I suddenly understood Magos Pasqal's misgivings, who immediately begged Her Ladyship to stop interacting with the entity, never mind her captive hand.

/nom_OS Does it please you? Do you want us to do it again?

'No, stop it, no!' cried Her Ladyship. 'That's enough! Those are living people! You cannot kill them like that, without rhyme or reason!'

The gargoyle tilted its head to the side, as one surprised.

/nom_OS We stopped their functions. Do you not turn machines off sometimes? We do not know how to turn a human back on. Not yet. But after enough experiments we will. We are always learning new things!

Suddenly, Nomos reminded me of my sons when in their toddler phase. Absolute dangers to themselves and, even in their limited human state, the galaxy at large. How does one baby-proof a whole voidship?

'People aren't like machines. You can't turn a human back on,' tartly said Her Ladyship. 'No one can.'

Once again, I was glad she avoided theological pitfalls, this time involving living saints, or things could have gotten messy very fast. The screen paused, and then flashed with another message.

/nom_OS You are angry. We will not experiment on humans again.

'Thank you, Nomos. Now, I wanted to ask for your help. We will very soon plot a course to this system's Mandeville point, and then through the Warp to Mundus Valancius, our home. Some very nasty people are attacking our home right now. I want to travel there as fast as is it possible to do without blowing up the Emperor's Mercy, because we need to help our people at home. But I don't know how to optimise the engines and everything so that we go faster. Can you do that for me, please?'

/nom_OS Yes. Nomos can improve the plasma drive efficiency. Katov Leifnir von Valancius, will you speak with us again? We want you to speak with us again.

'I will speak with you again, Nomos. I don't have implants for tech-communion, but we can converse again with sound-speech, like we're doing right now.'

/nom_OS Nomos are glad. We have been lonely.

The clamp around Her Ladyship's wrist loosened. She gingerly removed her hand from its maw and shook it, grimacing, to ease the pain, but waved away Master van Calox's offer of healing. The tech-priests neatly wrapped up their ritual with Magos Pasqal thanking the Entity Nomos (his words) for appearing before us.

Bridge personnel was called back. A vox-link was made with the Saint Calluna and the Silverlode to impart them with the news of the attack on Dargonus. Her Ladyship offered for us to go alone, as their part of the bargain was already fulfilled, but none of the captains would have it. The bloodthirsty spirit of the Navy does not abate! In the end, however, it has been decided only the Silverlode will accompany us home; the Saint Calluna is too badly hurt, and will instead go back to the Footfall shipyards.

The Silverlode, however, will merely follow and not escort. Her Ladyship is adamant about waving away every single safety protocol and rush to Dargonus orbit, which the Silverlode captain absolutely refused to do. Being former Navy myself, I do understand that he cannot risk the lives of so many of the Emperor's brightest; that would be quite against regulations, and even if his ship and crew survived he'd probably be court-martialled. It has therefore been agreed that, arriving in system only shortly behind us, the Silverlode would secure the outer system first. If the astropathic report is to be believed, they will have some enemy to shoot at there too, and keep them occupied while we deal with the force blockading Dargonus itself.