Chapter Text
Chapter 12 Auguries
[-----Octavia-----]
In the tower assigned to the Collegiate Extremis of which she was in charge, she was in her private office.
She had already finished adjusting things with her subordinates to fulfill the order of her "Majesty"; she could not say or protest anything, since all or most of the members of the cult of Pytervia, at least, were very convinced that the so-called Rex was an Avatar of the Omnissiah, the amount of activity and speculation by the highest-ranking Tech-Priests un the Noosfera made it even clearer.
This did not surprise her at all.
‹Even I thought so for a moment during the ceremony› remembering how the spirits of the Titans obeyed without delay the order given by the so-called Rex.
"The most shocking thing is that it was only a verbal order, without rites or at least using his ability to control machines; the spirits of their own free will obeyed him with total loyalty," she told herself; frankly, this day she had seen and experienced more things than in her 267 years of life.
And it didn't seem like this avalanche of incredible things was going to stop.
‹But enough of being amazed, that is not my function› she thought to herself; she was already tired of being surprised.
She had already performed all the tests she knew on the blueprints that her "Majesty" had given her so easily; they were legitimate and completely functional.
The possibilities of each one were extraordinary; omni-filters had the capacity to process the air of an entire standard hive city, clearing all types of toxic agents with an astonishing degree of effectiveness; even in a totally toxic world, a city with these filters would have pure and clean oxygen.
Stationary shields of that grade didn't require much thought regarding their use or utility; it was both obvious and too convenient.
But without a doubt, the industrial-grade gravatic plates were the most valuable; their use for large-scale construction was absurd.
All of that, added to the mysterious and strange Tower, did nothing but increase her general unease.
"To think he handed over something like that just to ask for days off for the servants; if someone told me something like that, I would think it’s an absurd joke," she said completely alone; even her connection to the Noosphere had been silenced to guarantee total discretion, because the meeting she was about to have would be seen as conspiracy, treason, and heresy of the highest class, and if she ended up dead for this...
It would be the softest punishment she could have received.
‹But that has no importance whatsoever; the only thing that matters is protecting the Mechanicus, and if I am wrong, being punished for my offense is a logical and too cheap a price› While she thought that, she saw in her optics the message that the person she requested was outside; this person didn't have any companions either.
When she called him, she made it very clear that he should come alone or not come at all.
‹It’s not like it benefits him to have his bodyguards either, not with what I know› she thought; it felt surprisingly refreshing that she was the one on the high ground of information, as she hadn't been all day.
So she just gave her approval to the door and it opened, revealing the person she had invited.
It was the Rogue Trader Banuu Ish-Tara of the Eridu Dynasty.
He had skin of a deep, dark bronze tone, clearly artificial amber eyes, and electrum tattoos with geometric patterns running down his neck and hands; she didn't know if they had some meaning or were just aesthetic.
He wore heavy silk robes reinforced with hidden armor and a fur cape from an exotic xenos beast over one shoulder, plus several pistols of different types on his hips.
He had arrived at Pytervia for a routine shipment before the warp storm appeared, becoming trapped on this world; even his Navigator died after 2 months due to the continuous effect of the storm.
He made the sign of the gear before speaking.
"You called me and I respond, Magos Juris Octavia 7-Lex, High Judge," while giving a slight bow, enough to show respect without lowering his own status, something typical of a Rogue Trader.
At least the ones she knew.
Looking up, he continued, "Now, can you tell me why you sent for me? Without servants and in private? I am more than willing to repay the solidarity you have shown me and my crew, but I must make it very clear that I will do nothing that is heretical or against the Throne."
She didn't respond immediately; she just watched how he became uncomfortable due to the lack of response, or rather, how he pretended to be uncomfortable.
"Stop that assassin act, I know who you are and that is why I called you," Octavia said, going directly to the point.
"I’m afraid I don't understand, High Judge; only heretics and xenos call me such a thing," he replied; he had a face of absolute confusion; if Octavia didn't know, she would almost believe him, or at most have the same suspicion she usually has for anyone outside the Mechanicus.
But that didn't matter; she knew this "Rogue Trader's" secret.
"I suspected you when you arrived, as one of my servo-skulls had a reaction to you; it was only for a moment, so I kept my suspicions to myself, but as soon as your Navigator died from the 'storm,' I managed to deduce what you really are. I have neither the time nor the patience right now for mind games, so stop this Rogue Trader act... Callidus." As soon as she said that.
"Ha! I didn't take you for a superstitious person, High Judge; those things are just myths from ignorant people and I will not accept such slander against my good name or my dynasty" replied "Banuu Ish"; he truly looked offended and waiting for her response.
But as soon as he saw that Octavia's gaze did not change or waver, all expression vanished, whether from his face or his body.
It seemed the act was over.
"Do you understand who you are dealing with, tech-priestess?" he said with a completely different and totally cold voice, almost managing to hide the contained rage within it.
Almost.
‹Now we can talk› she thought; this was truly a risky bet, but she needed some support outside the Mechanicus of this world, and what better ally for what she might need in this particular case than a member of the infamous Officio Assassinorum.
"I am speaking with a specialist in killing important people, so that you can help me eliminate a very particular target," said; she wouldn't be a high command of the Mechanicus if she didn't have the ability to use everything at her disposal to carry out her sentence in case she found or saw something that proved he was indeed a fraud, because if he was, a direct confrontation was far from being a good option.
She couldn't know what other capabilities her "Majesty" might have; even if he had no more, what he had already demonstrated was enough to make it very obvious that he wouldn't be easy to eliminate, if they even could. That, along with the Legio Pyterviana which was already totally willing to die for him, and all that without counting the tower and its impressive arsenal—a battle against all that could easily result in the destruction of Pytervia.
So an assassin was the most obvious and efficient option to at least ensure the death of the impostor.
‹I have to be patient and look for evidence or signs that this is a plot or worse, but first I must secure the 'weapon' I will use if the case arises› she thought with total suspicion.
In fact, for all of this to be just that—a fraud, a deception, or an elaborate plot—would be much more understandable to her. Much more dangerous and problematic? Without a doubt.
But it would be much more understandable.
The Callidus stood still, then with a forced and inhuman smile, said:
"I'm listening."
[-----Ixaniad Sector-----]
Far from Pytervia, on the private command bridge of the Inquisitorial cruiser Malleus Peccatorum, Inquisitor Ferdinand Nejat was speaking via holo with the captains of the Imperial forces who had survived in space the massive storm that had apparently swallowed the entire sector.
It was a very diverse and numerous force of survivors, all faithful who had barely survived these months in the storm; the Inquisitor was the highest-ranking member and the leader of this makeshift force that, due to the journey and difficulties, the fleet had been reduced from more than 650 assets to only this.
129 medium and small ships with hulls blackened by warp fire, entire decks sealed by vacuum breaches, and crews huddling in the corridors praying to the Emperor. They were only one very intense space combat or one bad warp journey away from the end, or at least the beginning of the end for everyone.
For that very reason, this meeting was so important.
"So, you are telling me that this gray spot is the only place we can safely go?" Inquisitor Nejat asked with total seriousness.
"Yes, my Lord, all we Navigators agree that this is the only one available; all alternatives are nothing but guaranteed perdition," confirmed the Novator; only his voice was heard without a silhouette, but the confidence he had in what he was saying could be felt.
It was rare for someone of such high rank to perform such a humble task, but the Novator had been the one who had handled the situation best.
Since most of the fleet's Navigators had been in constant agony during these months, they could not say anything coherent, so they had to depend on the Novator and his years of experience.
But suddenly, 2 hours ago, all the Navigators began to scream something about a gray and opaque spot; it seemed that the revelation of that gray spot pained and relieved them in equal parts.
They said it was like seeing a still zone in a massive storm; it was impossible for the Navigators and sanctioned psyker not to see or feel it in some way.
The most relevant thing about this was that everyone agreed it was a place that could be easily reached as it was a fixed point, which was exactly what this "fleet" of ships needed.
A place to dock, resupply, organize, and reinforce.
They had been traveling in the storm, and every time they managed to reach a world, it was either a demonic one, a rebel one, or in total anarchy.
All that, while their forces were outnumbered.
All the hololiths of the various captains focused on Inquisitor Nejat, as only his verdict was missing; he had his eyes closed.
This was only a gesture for the captains, as he really had no other option, not if they wanted to get out alive.
‹But they don't need to know that› he thought; it was a lesson from the Schola that had served him very well in his career; he was not used to operating such a large force as an Inquisitor, so he was using some of his lessons from when it was still believed he was going to be a Commissar.
Those memories seemed so distant to him.
He opened his eyes and said, "Set the course for that place quickly; we cannot afford any mistakes, understood?"
"Understood, Lord Inquisitor," the hololiths chanted before disappearing.
"A gray spot in the warp in the Rubicon sub-sector; it’s not the weirdest thing about this whole situation, but it is certainly striking and concerning," Nejat said to one of the 2 figures in front of him; none of the hololiths could see or hear them; one was much larger than the other.
"Is anything known about where we are going?" asked the smaller of the figures.
"The records we have only say it is a formerly important world that lost its significance millennia ago," Nejat responded, looking at his Data-slate.
"A forge world without relevance until now... Suddenly it has something special? This screams techno-heresy in every way," continued the figure, approaching the Inquisitor's desk, revealing her armor and bearing more clearly.
This was Palatine Carysta of the Eternal Flame, leader of a strike force from the Order of the Bloody Rose; it was by the pure grace of the Emperor that they had met on a feudal planet that fell to Chaos; it took a lot to convince her and her forces to retreat.
Had Nejat not been an Inquisitor, she surely would have killed him right there just to keep fighting.
"That, or the Tech-priests decided to use or make technology they had kept very secret; you know how they are," Nejat said, taking a sip of his cold Recaf, just the way he liked it.
"The curiosity of the Mechanicus is the gateway to damnation, Inquisitor," Carysta said, to which Nejat only nodded in total agreement.
"Be that as it may, for now, it is our only safe travel option, so we will go," Nejat continued; he did not like going toward something so suspicious at all.
‹But well, since this disaster began, I have basically been going blind in every decision; what is one more?› he thought with exhaustion.
"And if the inhabitants of this world have gone mad, turned into traitors or heretics to survive?" Carysta asked, her hand gripping the sword at her waist.
"Then—" before Nejat could continue.
"Then that forge world will burn," said the massive and until now silent figure, with a totally serious and cold voice. He took a step forward to give more weight to his words, revealing the imposing Astartes in red armor.
This was Malquiel captain of the 5th company of the Exorcists the Banishers.
They encountered him and his forces while they were fighting a fleet of heretics; although they were putting up a great fight, they were simply too outnumbered, even with Nejat's "fleet" as reinforcement.
They had barely made it out of that battle alive.
"For the Emperor," Palatine Carysta responded; her bloodlust was evident as her hand did not let go of her sword.
"For the Emperor," Nejat and Malquiel replied, preparing their minds to be ready for whatever surprise this forge world might give them.
And if necessary, to purge it with all the Emperor's fury.
[-----World ? Segmentum Obscurus-----]
On a Hive world now filled with rust and moss sprouting everywhere, overflowing from the ancient cities, massive swamps filled with insects, putrid air, and diseases, plus the massive mutated or sick population that could be heard throughout the planet—each city suffering a different plague, but all ensuring a horrible pain; such were the gifts of the Grandfather.
In the massive and destroyed palace of the former Planetary Governor, Necrosius observed his trusted officers and a few Sorcerers; the entire population of the palace was now a tide of Poxwalkers and small daemons of Nurgle.
Necrosius, Master of the Apostles of Contagion and Hand of Nurgle, was ecstatic with the landscape and the current situation, deeply inhaling the air heavy with spores and rotten sweetness; the air was so dense it could be chewed, a breeding ground for blessed diseases that caused mortal lungs to dissolve into mucus—this for him was more sacred than any incense of the Corpse God.
This was already the 5th world to fall before them; hive worlds like this were his favorite, as it was ridiculously easy to make them fall.
"It only takes infecting a single spire, and the rest falls shortly after; the Imperium's own design is its own worst enemy," he said aloud, showing his good mood; Abaddon had truly done something great with this New Crusade.
He had been told that this one would be special, and boy was it delivering.
The opening of the rift had been a total victory for the forces of Chaos; it was a shame Abaddon was not a servant of the Grandfather, but he was not so stupid as to not see that such a victory also benefited him; the forces they had amassed had made the Apostles more numerous and powerful than ever.
"This is only the beginning; with the Imperium suffering the effects of the Great Rift, it is time to take advantage, loot, and raze everything possible. All the worlds of this Sector will be offered to the Grandfather!!" Necrosius cheered, and everyone gave the war cry; they were not Khorne's brutes, but the situation truly merited it.
It had been a long time since they had had such success.
But at that moment, a Poxwalker stepped forward toward him, and from it, a great energy could be felt.
He was being possessed by an entity from the immaterium; in addition to that, he could feel the gaze of some other entities on him, easily recognizing that they were not from the Grandfather.
The lone Poxwalker walked until it was a few meters from him and said, "Pale Tower, Pale Tower, Pale Tower, Pale Tower, Pale Tower."
As it said that, some Poxwalkers began to collapse; some mutated massively, others simply exploded, but the vast multitude of them repeated the same thing.
For Him, it was very clear that this was a revelation/mission for him from the Grandfather; it was not the first time something like this had occurred, and it was absurdly clear what was being asked of him on this occasion, but he still had to ask the question—the symbolism of the act was important in itself.
Such were the ways of the Immaterium.
"Destination of this Pale Tower?"
Upon the question, all the Walkers began to rot into pus and bile; in a short time, none were left. But he still heard, with a voice full of an apparent and absolute rage:
"Destroy it!!!!!"
Followed by silence.
Necrosius immediately ordered over the vox, "Apostles, I have received an oracle from the Grandfather; we depart at once."
There was no argument from the veterans at that; they silenced the voices of the younger ones and simply responded affirmatively; the details could be known laterm. Then he connected via vox with the chief pilot of his personal ship.
"Master, I have heard the order, but I must ask, where are we going?" the pilot asked.
"Toward a gray Tower that for some reason has provoked the wrath of some entities of the immaterium," responded; he had no clues or information about what this Tower was, but what intrigued him most was the message itself; to a beginner, it might have seemed there was only hatred in the order.
He was no beginner.
So he could notice, beneath all that massive hostility, a layer of fear, and that indeed revealed a lot.
Because anything that can provoke such a thing in a being of the Immaterium would surely be extremely dangerous, but that didn't really matter, for they were the Apostles of Contagion and he was Necrosius, Hand of Nurgle.
Whatever that unholy Tower was, it would be destroyed.
All in the name of the Grandfather.
[-----Craftworld Il-Kaithe-----]
Farseer Kaelisath of the Eternal Gaze, along with the rest of the Seer Council, had been in communion for weeks trying to see something, but since the Eye of Terror expanded, he had been able to see nothing but darkness.
Until now.
As suddenly their minds were transported elsewhere; they floated in the dark space, mouthless, totally motionless, floating and watching the glowing swirl before them.
It was the galaxy.
They were seeing the galaxy; at that distance, the planets, the solar systems, the sectors—all of those were just tiny points of light, and splitting the spiral in half was a violet "mist."
It was the Great Rift, or rather, the Cicatrix Maledictum.
‹Why so suddenly?› Kaelisath wondered; they could only watch, but a gray dot caught his attention; even as tiny as it was, it was impossible not to see it; being inside the colorful mist, it was too striking.
‹But what—?› before he could finish his thought, the dot began to grow.
Like paint on a canvas, it began to cover the colorful mist in gray; the more it grew, the faster it moved; in a short time, all its color was gone, moving to the other part of the spiral, which was consumed by the gray just as quickly, leaving the ancient galaxy as only a smaller gray smudge in its place, alone in the middle of the darkness of space.
Or at least it seemed so at first, for in that darkness, three things stood out from different sides: a massive shadow full of teeth, a red mass full of eyes, and more strangely, a massive and distorting bolt So big that it made the other two look small, surrounding the smudge and on a collision course with it—but before any made contact, the scene changed.
Now they were above a planet; the contrast was astonishing; before they saw all of this as something extremely small and now he could appreciate its colossal and real size; he also noticed that his group had dwindled—only 6 remained, yet they still could not speak to each other.
Only wait and observe.
They didn't have to wait to see it; it was something enormous approaching, easily larger than this solar system ; it was so big that even that comparison was inaccurate, and it approached at an impressive speed. No he wasn't getting close.
It was growing.
When it got closer, they could finally glimpse what it was: It was a totally white and monstrous mega-structure , Its shape reminded him of an amoeba or a cell that was constantly growing, at least the parts that were close together. Its design was undoubtedly Mon-Keigh, but not the current ones; it reminded him more of the ancient Mon-Keigh, at least in how clean the mega-structure looked.
They saw massive fleets of all kinds of ships attacking the mega-structure: Imperial and Chaotic Mon-Keigh ships, Orks, Tau, Drukhari, and Eldari, along with the largest Tyranid fleet they had ever seen; furthermore, one of the planets turned out to be a Necron world fully awakening, and they saw how all of these attacked the mega-structure with everything they had, without attacking each other—it was a battle of that entire system against the mega-structure.
The improbable armada used all kinds of weapons of apocalyptic power designed to destroy entire planets or suns, as well as relics of forbidden and forgotten power, along with all the warp power they possessed; all of that was hurled against it.
None of it mattered.
Everything was simply swallowed by the mega-structure; no matter how hard they fought, it was like watching a group of small animals attack an armored vehicle; the mega-structure merely extended enormous cables and literally split the ships as if they were old wood.
But the strangest thing was that the Tyranids, in contrast, were being teleported en masse to who knows where; using all his power, Kaelisath managed to see that living beings were not destroyed along with the ships—they were likewise teleported somewhere.
It surely wouldn't be anything good.
Leaving the ships useless and at the mercy of the mega-structure, the Necrons were the only ones who put up anything resembling a fight, but all the damage they did was repaired with the remains of the other ships.
It wasn't really a fight; rather, it was delaying the inevitable.
When a part of the mega-structure drew near, they saw massive cables embed themselves into the planet, how they tore it into pieces, and how one cable in particular consumed the core—all of that so the mega-structure could use it to grow; it was as if it were a mere mine from which to extract matter.
Finally, he could connect the dots between the first vision and the current one: the transformation of an entire galaxy into raw material, only to be part of a machine of an incomprehensible scale and purpose.
‹I have seen worlds burn, I have seen the Mon-Keigh destroy worlds full of their own people in all sorts of ways just because it was easier, I have seen the devastation of the Ork plague, I have seen worlds turned into true hells of suffering by the Drukhari, I have seen worlds devoured by the Tyranid plague, I have seen total annihilation by the Necrons, I have seen so many things through my long life, but this... this is obscene› thought as he watched the mega-structure simply continue toward the next world, without the slightest hint of stopping.
Looking around, he could see that only he remained in the vision, but he couldn't devote much thought to that fact, as he could only focus on the absolute terror he felt; only once had he felt this level of fear, and it was when he saw one of those absolute Mon-Keigh abominations.
He only survived because he hadn't been the target that time.
He only snapped out of his stupor because his vision was slowly turning dark; it seemed the end of the vision had arrived.
But he couldn't simply leave without asking the question; Since he was the only one left to do it, So, with all the strength he could muster, the Farseer screamed his question into the void:
"Why?"
The darkness increased, but within it, he could feel the gaze of something landing upon him. I couldn't tell if it was something alive or artificial, but the answer came from a monstrous and emotionless voice.
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