The return trip to Terra was almost surprising in how…uneventful it was.
Even if it had been irritatingly slow.
Truth be told, Isha would have preferred it if the Emperor had driven the ship back to Terra with the same urgency as he had traveled to Cthonia. But she was in no mood to actually talk with him and she doubted he would have agreed even if she was, clearly wanting to give his son time to adjust.
So Isha had spent most of the trip in her chambers, doing her best to ignore the hungry gaze of the infinite legions of daemons as the ship traversed the currents of the Aethyr.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much else to occupy her attention. She could feel the sorrow and fear and rage of her children bleeding into the Warp, as they desperately sought a solution to the horrors they now faced. The determination of those seeking a new path made her proud, even as the arrogance and apathy of those who stubbornly clung to the old ways made her angry.
But she could not reach out to them, no matter how much she wanted to.
Furthermore, Isha could not help but brood on the matter of the servitors. It still rankled that she could not free them, or even punish their tormentors.
But to do that would have been to risk everything she had accomplished since escaping Slaanesh, meagre as it was.
It was hypocritical in some ways to rage at the Emperor's tolerance of such things, Isha knew. She had tolerated worse, she had done worse.
What was the fate of a few thousand mortals compared to the atrocities of the War in Heaven?
But still. The Emperor's indifference stung. He did not have to tolerate such things. There were threats on the horizon, yes, ones that needed to be urgently prepared for, but he had no need of that fortress of monstrous slavers on a single, insignificant planet, surely.
What harm would it have done to his plans to crush them?
Instead, he had bargained with them, apologized for the entirely harmless trouble that his son had caused and given them gifts.
Isha sighed bitterly. What was even the point of brooding about this? She could do nothing. Oh, certainly, she could argue with the Emperor about it, risk her agreement and position, ultimately convince him of nothing and be able to do nothing for those poor people.
She longed for freedom, to be able to go to her children, to strike at her enemies.
As humans said, a gilded cage was still a cage, and even with the loosened restrictions over the past few years, Isha did not enjoy being the Emperor's servant. He had never referred to it in such terms, but she did not bother to delude herself about what her position was.
It did not help that having to play this role meant suppressing aspects of herself. Being confined to a mortal form was constraining enough, but she also had to keep herself focused on one aspect, on the domains that were useful and acceptable to the Emperor.
Denying herself was exhausting, and Isha wondered if the Emperor had ever dealt with anything similar. Did he even have aspects?
But in the end, it didn't matter. She could not leave. Not just because of her agreement with the Emperor, not just because she could not afford to make an enemy of him, but because the Four were always there, eager for their chance.
Isha was unsure if Khorne or Tzentech's brief interest in her would linger or if that had just been the usual squabbling of the Ruinous Powers, the petty desire to deny their rivals something they wanted.
But Slaanesh and Nurgle would certainly want her, to consume her, to enslave her, to imprison her…it mattered not. All those fates were equally terrible.
In some ways, the whole situation reminded her of the War in Heaven, of being a soldier for callous masters in opposition to an even more terrible enemy. For all that she resented the Old Ones, Isha could not claim that letting the C'tan win and sever the Materium and Immaterium would have been better than what had happened in the end.
And the Emperor, for all that he infuriated her and reminded her of the cold, clinical detachment of the Old Ones at times, was not that far gone.
Not yet.
How long would that last, she wondered. More and more, it seemed like she and the Emperor would inevitably go down the same path as…well, not she and the Old Ones, but her and Asuryan. And Asuryan had truly been her friend, once, countless aeons ago. But in the end, it had not been enough.
She and the Emperor did not have even that bond which she and Asuryan had shared once.
How was she supposed to build an alliance out of this cold, calculated transaction? To convince the Emperor to respect her as an equal, to make him understand that they could do more together than apart?
Isha needed the Emperor's protection, and more than that, she needed to make an ally out of him. For both their people to not only survive but also live, they needed to work together. To be more than just a warlord and the refugee he had agreed to protect in exchange for knowledge.
But how they were ever going to reach that point, Isha did not know.
Isha was relieved when the Epona finally returned to Terra. Gilded cage or not, it was good to be out from under the hungry gaze of Chaos.
What was surprising was that the Emperor left without her. She had expected more inquiries on what she could do to speed up his projects, a new task, a demand to know why she was displeased with him, something.
Instead, he had simply gone off without saying a word to her.
Isha would have thought he was busy with his son, but the blazing star of the Emperor's presence and the bonfire that was the boy had split up, the Emperor heading for his study with Malcador, the boy to another part of the fortress with his friends.
Curious. The Emperor was clearly strongly attached to his son already, why the sudden change in behaviour after the past few days?
But it wasn't any of her business how the Emperor acted as a parent, she reminded herself. That fell outside the purview of their current arrangement, and wasn't even part of the alliance she needed.
So Isha put that aside, and went to check on the projects she had left behind, once more making her way to the extension of the fortress where her primary greenhouses resided. Bai-heng seemed very busy, with people scurrying about everywhere, but Isha paid it no mind until she reached her destination.
Strangely, as she stepped out into the evening air, there was no one there except the guards. The automated systems were running, and Isha had designed the crops to all be self-sustaining, but the absence of any of the Emperor's scientists was surprising. Several of them had their own projects, and a few were always eager to pore over her work again.
Isha extended her senses, and realized they were all grouped in a deeper part of the mountain, in the labs where the Space Marines were made. A part of the fortress she was not permitted access to.
Frowning, Isha turned to one of the guards standing at the entrance even as she scanned the greenhouses to check the crops were all growing smoothly.
"Has something happened?" She inquired, noting that everything seemed to be going well. It had only been a few days, but it never hurt to check. "Why is no one here?"
The guard, a tanned young man with brown hair and blue eyes named Leon, looked vaguely uncomfortable. Isha had met him a few years ago, but the distance that the Emperor mandated between him and her subjects meant that even though guarding these farms was part of his regular duties, she had never established any sort of rapport with him, as Isha would have with the guards in her own temples and palaces before Asuryan's Edict.
"The war with the Pan-Pacific Empire has flared up again, ma'am. Everyone has been ordered to work on supplementing the war effort, with everything else secondary."
"I see." Isha frowned. That did explain why they were all in that part of the fortress. But she was mildly surprised she hadn't been informed and given some task already. Perhaps Malcador intended to report to the Emperor, and then the Anathema would decide what she was to do.
But the Pan-Pacific Empire…from Isha's admittedly limited knowledge of other factions on Terra, they should have had nothing that could force an emergency like this. Had something happened?
And that was when Isha felt the Emperor teleport out of the Palace to the other side of the planet, his power and anger rolling through the Warp with golden lightning and thunder that she felt echo down to the very bones of her mortal form.
Well, that answered that question, she supposed.
"Lady Isha."
"Lord Malcador."
The Eldar Goddess crossed her arms, leaning against the table of her laboratory. She and Malcador rarely interacted without the Emperor present, but this didn't seem like a normal situation.
"There has been a change of plans." The Sigillite said after a moment, from his seat at one of the tables. "By the Emperor's command, you are to focus your efforts on the production of war rations and medicines, especially ones for countering Chaos. All non-military projects are of lower priority, and if necessary, should be suspended indefinitely."
Isha's eyebrows rose. "May I know the reason for this?" It had been years since the Emperor had ordered her to focus exclusively on supplementing his war machine.
Malcador grimaced slightly. "The Pan-Pacific Empire has fallen to Chaos." He informed her grimly. "And we believe they have unearthed a STC which allows for the production of Iron Men soldiers. They have not yet found a way to activate it, but the Emperor intends to crush them before they can do so."
Ah. Isha had not paid a great deal of attention to humanity before all this, too distracted with her children's descent into madness, but she had noticed when the Three had managed to corrupt legions of iron soldiers with abilities comparable to that of the psychomatons that her own children used. It would have been impossible not to. And she had gleaned only a few details of the Iron War from the Emperor, what he had been willing to divulge was worrying.
If Chaos could gain control of such a force again…well, it explained why the Emperor had gone so abruptly and why his presence in the Aethyr was radiating cold fury and determination.
"Of course." She said finally to Malcador. "I will increase production immediately. Is there anything else I can do to help?"
Malcador's face showed no hesitation, but Isha could sense his brief burst of caution and fear all the same. "Simply keep on doing what you are already doing. However…I am to inform you that until the Emperor returns, your freedom has been restricted once again. You are to remain within the fortress at all times, and no longer travel out to the city, even the forest."
Isha's lips thinned, but after a moment she nodded, having to suppress a roll of her eyes when Malcador seemed surprised.
She disliked losing the freedom she had been given, but the Emperor would likely be gone for several weeks, at least.
Truth be told, she was surprised he was even going so far as to leave her with access to the fortress at all, instead of taking her with him or having her confined to her chambers for the duration of his absence.
He must be truly afraid of these Men of Iron to decide that leaving her alone in the heart of his power was an acceptable choice.
Not that she could blame him. As much as the Emperor angered and frustrated her, she could sympathize with both his strategic and personal concerns in this case.
The idea of Chaos making a resurgence on Terra was a troublesome one. Isha would never feel completely safe on this planet, given her status as the Emperor's guest, but it had been good to know that all major bastions of the Four's worshippers had been eradicated.
And Terra was not her home as it was the Emperor's. To spend centuries rooting out any trace of Chaos on the planet only for it to make such a return…it would cut deeply.
No wonder he was going to such extreme measures.
"I will remain with the fortress, do not worry." She told the Sigillite. "And I will begin work immediately."
"Of course." Malcador replied, unable to completely hide his relief. From her, at least. "The Pan-Pacific Empire has also revealed several new Nurglite bioweapons , and while our data on them is limited, we still need whatever counters we can get, if you would prioritize that."
"Certainly."
"I will leave you to it, then." Malcador said, rising to his feet. "I have much work to tend to, though if any complications arise, you can have the Custodians alert me.
"I will." Isha assured him, watching him go. She privately wondered what Malcador's own thoughts on the current crisis were. He seemed calm, but he too had watched his civilization crumble and burn because Chaos had corrupted mankind's most powerful creations.
But he kept most of his emotions locked behind his psychic shields, and even she could only sense the very surface. Penetrating them was well within her ability, but would be both cruel and foolish.
Sighing, Isha crossed her arms. Nothing to do but wait for Astarte to arrive.
Fortunately, she did not have to wait long, for Astarte appeared scarce minutes after Malcador left, immediately offering Isha a dataslate.
"How goes the work, Astarte?" Isha asked, even as she scrolled through the information on the dataslate.
"Well, for the most part, with only a few minor difficulties." Astarte replied. The mortal looked even older and more hollow than she had when Isha had first met her. Her head was almost completely hairless now, her skin had turned grey and become even more wrinkled, and she now wore a sheer, floor-length white shift, all of which had combined to make her look like an almost transparent wraith rather than a living mortal.
Most puzzlingly, Astarte had encouraged this appearance. Even as she ensured that on the inside, she remained in flawless condition, she had deliberately encouraged the decay of her exterior.
Isha did not pretend to understand why Astarte felt it necessary to go to such great lengths to make herself look so frail and aged, but it was not her place to ask. She and Astarte were colleagues of a sort and Isha had managed to temper Astarte's fear of her over the past few years. It wasn't truly gone, and she doubted it ever would be, but at least Astarte was no longer filled with dread at the mere sight of her.
But they were not friends.
No one in the Imperium was Isha's friend.
"So I see," Isha said in response to the genewright, looking through the files and making mental notes on how to counter the various bioweapons.
The Plaguefather's worshippers had clearly been hard at work coming up with new horrors. One weapon, labeled as GD4 by the Imperium, was designed to leave any of those who were infected in a constant cycle of rot and regeneration, except that the regeneration would be wrong and leave the infected twisted. Another was designed to animate the corpses of the dead, a third to transform even plants and insects into monsters who could spread Nurgle's decay.
But it wasn't the effects, but the genetic code of these new bioweapons that were truly twisted and complicated, and reeked of direct daemonic knowledge and influence to her.
Nurgle must be getting frustrated with the work she had done to counter his, and nearly stamped out all disease in the Imperium besides. It was a thought Isha took no small pride in.
And unfortunately for Nurgle, she was still easily capable of countering every new weapon his cults devised. Diminished or not, she was still a goddess, and being incarnate in the Materium had its advantages. Nurgle, though stronger than her for now, could not influence or empower the creations of his followers to the same degree.
"Lady Isha?" Astarte interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes?" Isha said, looking at her. "What is it?"
"I had a request to make of you." Astarte said slowly, nervous but clearly determined. "For some time now, I have believed that the Emperor's plan to replace the Thunder Warriors with Space Marines is a mistake. I have found several worrying factors in the geneseed used to create the latter, not to mention the genetic loyalty they have to their Primarchs. And we have no idea what condition the Primarchs will be in even if we find them all, or what they might think of the Emperor."
Isha could guess where Astarte was going with this. "And you want my help in convincing the Emperor he should, at the very least, not replace the Thunder Warriors completely, I take it?"
Astarte nodded. "I do. Ideally, I would prefer to simply put an end to the Space Marine program entirely, but I know the Emperor will never agree to that."
"Hmm." Isha considered the request. Astarte made a valid point. The ingrained genetic loyalty to the Emperor's sons could be troublesome depending on what exactly had happened to all the children.
Horus was stable and lacked any traces of the influence of Chaos, but that guaranteed nothing about the condition of the other children.
Having studied and contributed to the designs for the Space Marines, Isha was certain that the vast majority of any Legion would likely follow their Primarch if the Primarch spent any modicum of time with them. The Primarch would not even necessarily have to reciprocate the instinctive attachment the Legion would have to them, that was just how the gene-seed worked.
Keeping the Primarchs away from their Legions and only introducing them after it had been made certain the Primarch was stable would reduce chances of trouble, but not erase it.
The Thunder Warriors lacked that sort of problem. And if new ones were made, they would be even more loyal and stable than their predecessors, never having to deal with the same sort of madness and ill-health as the original Thunder Warriors.
But…would the Emperor listen if Isha raised the idea to him? He had invested much effort in the Space Marines, perhaps too much to discard them now.
More than that, he might think she was trying to promote the gene-engineered warriors whose design she had the most influence over his own creations. Perhaps even come to the conclusion that she had, in fact, planted some secret contingency in the Thunder Warriors.
"I will consider it." She told Astarte finally. This was not something she could be hasty about. "Do you have any other data to support this conclusion?"
"I do. I have been working on it for quite some time and my efforts finally bore fruit in the last few days, while you were gone. Several of the Legions seem to have a buried tendency towards mutation, one which has not emerged yet but nor have I been able to remove it. I would not even have noticed if not for what I have learned from your work over the past few years. It was exceptionally well hidden. The Fifteenth Legion, for example, seems to have the most concerning tendency. The information is there on the dataslate."
Isha frowned, flicking through the data on the new bioweapons to the files about the Fifteenth Legion. As Astarte said, the hidden tendency towards mutation was there in the genetic code, and very well hidden. The work of Chaos no doubt. Those parasites could be infuriatingly subtle when they bothered.
So they did have designs on both the Primarchs and their Legions. Isha had expected as much, but this was confirmation.
She was going to have to discuss this with the Emperor, she realized. Even if he was unwilling to agree to Astarte's proposal, he needed to know.
"I will talk to the Emperor about this when he returns." Isha told the mortal genewright. "In the meantime, I will also see what I can come up with to correct the flaws in the geneseed." It would be easier to fix if she had direct access to it, but that wasn't possible for now.
"Thank you." Astarte, visibly relieved.
Isha nodded briskly. "Now, let us get back to the work at hand."
Author's Note: Next chapter's preview is up on my P-a-t-r-e-o-n, but not the full chapter. Apologies, but it's been a difficult month and I haven't been able to get much writing done.