by Andy Hoare
A harsh chime cut through Brielle's reverie, and she held the data-slate out to one side, the servitor descending once more to take it from her. 'Go ahead'
A moment later, her father's voice boomed from the speaker grilles mounted above the command throne. 'Korvane, Brielle, we have what we came for. We'll rendezvous at the prearranged point in Luneberg's system. My Navigator informs me it's a twenty-day voyage, subjective, although he tells me that he and Sagis both have concerns about the tides in the warp, so I want formation kept as tight as possible. The chances are we'll arrive together, but I don't want to take any chances on any unwelcome guests waiting for us at the other end. They knew exactly where to expect us last time. I don't want us to be caught off guard again. Is that understood?
Korvane answered before Brielle. He always did. 'Understood, Father'
'Brielle' Brielle's father addressed her. 'Is the cargo safe?
'It is safe, Father. It's stowed in number three stasis. Nothing can happen to it in there'
'Good. Now, I wish you both a dull and uneventful journey. The Emperor protects'
'The Emperor protects' Brielle heard Korvane repeat.
'The Emperor protects'
Brielle watched from her command throne as the distant form of the Oceanid broke formation, moving to a safe distance from which she would commence her dive into the warp. Such a manoeuvre was inherently dangerous, and in populated systems was subject to a plethora of ordinances, each designed to minimise the impact of any mishap on nearby vessels, or even worlds. Brielle had heard all manner of grisly tales of catastrophic warp drive malfunction, and had even witnessed the aftermath of one, at the world of Radina V. There, a bulk carrier had mistimed its translation, sheering off the gravity pull of Radina V's third moon. The carrier was caught in a slingshot as it dived in to the warp, pulled in too many dimensions by forces impossible to comprehend. The vessel had broken up, and been smeared across space in a debris field that engulfed the moon and part of Radina itself with fallout. It wasn't the sort of fallout that could be scrubbed by decontamination teams. It was spiritual fallout, the residue of the three thousand souls lost in the disaster, and it afflicted the minds of every man, woman and child upon the moon's surface, and several hundred thousand more upon Radina V. They were driven insane within hours, their souls touched by the warp as it leaked through the three thousand tiny warp portals created at the instant of the carrier's destruction.
The rogue traders had delivered an Ordo Hereticus strike force to Radina V, and Brielle had watched from orbit as the Emperor's mercy had been delivered to hundreds of thousands of afflicted subjects. An entire continent had been burned clean of the unclean stain of the warp, those driven beyond the limit of sanity by its touch delivered by cleansing flame.
Radina V was found to be the fault of the carrier's master, who had ordered the vessel to enter the warp too close to the world's gravity well. Although the official investigation had levelled no criticism upon the vessel's Navigator, Bridle's father had voiced the opinion that the fault lay chiefly with him, because it was his responsibility to override any order that would compromise the safety of the ship. However, the Navigator families were one of the Imperium's most powerful institutions and no blame would ever be levelled upon them.
Brielle had few concerns that such an incident might occur with the Navigators of the Locarno clan guiding the fleet. As the Oceanid accelerated away, Brielle knew that her father would be making his vessel ready for translation to the warp, while the Oceanid's Navigator entered a deep trance, in which he would guide the vessel through the unpredictable Sea of Souls. The Oceanid now far beyond visible range, Brielle watched as Korvane's vessel manoeuvred onto a similar heading, a course designed to ensure all three vessels remained in as coherent a formation within the warp as was possible.
Brielle reached to her left and pulled back a heavy lever, half a dozen pict-slates descending from the ceiling to surround her. Static buzzed from the screens, before each resolved into a different rendition of the immediate area of space. Across one screen scrolled entirely abstract columns of numerical data, while another represented the Fanlight's environs in a riot of machine-sight gradations. Brielle had acquired the knack of reading all simultaneously, for her bridge lacked the rare, three-dimensional holograph of the Oceanid. She noted how the Oceanid's number three drive bled wispy clouds of superheated plasma through its emergency venting, a symptom of the neglect of the fleet's vessels brought about by the dynasty's misfortunes.
Moving at incredible velocity, the Oceanid began her dive. The screens erupted in activity, the machine devices attempting to describe that which should not even be possible. Brielle saw that the Oceanid's Geller Field was raised, creating a delicate bubble of real space around her, within which she would find shelter from the raging energies of the warp. Just before the Oceanid passed beyond the furthest extent of the Fairlight's augurs, Brielle caught the dazzling explosion of metaphysical energies as the ship dived into the warp. Each warp drive and each Navigator interacted with the warp in a unique manner, meaning that no two dives were identical. The sight, rendered across half a dozen pict-slates in as many different forms, was something quite beautiful, and quite terrible to behold. The Oceanid's passing forcibly ripped a gash in the intangible fabric of the universe, bleeding the raw stuff of the warp, for an instant. Yet, even as questing tentacles of something unreal seeped forth, the scar was healed, the laws of the universe reasserting themselves once more.
A moment later, a familiar wave of sickness passed over Brielle and was gone: the spiritual wake of the Oceanid's warp jump.
Seeing that Korvane's vessel was moving into position for its own dive, Brielle checked that her ship was prepared for its jump, and then addressed her bridge crew.
'We make warp in three minutes. All hands to station'
At her words, the bridge became a hive of activity. Although her crew was well versed in the manoeuvre, making a warp jump was never taken lightly, at least not by any crew that wanted to make it safely back to port. Chanting filled the bridge, and a line of lay priests emerged from the chapel to the rear, blessed incense billowing around them as they anointed the Fairlight's systems with holy unguents. These would ward off the evil intentions of the denizens of the warp and ensure the vessel's safe passage.
Next, a deck officer passed quickly from one station to the next, ensuring that each rating and servitor was secured to his seat. This was not for their own safety, but for that of the vessel, for it had been known for the weak to be driven to insanity at the moment of entry into the warp, and to ran amok upon a ship's bridge, killing all within reach. Brielle knew that it had happened to a member of her father's bridge crew long before she was born, the man killing three of his fellows with his teeth alone, before her father had put a data-spike through his head. Such enflamed passions at the moment of the jump were, according to space-lore, the result of the call of the warp-bound daemon, and to heed its lies was to invite the loss of every soul on the ship. Thus, every precaution possible was taken against it.
A message from Navigator Sagis scrolled across a data-slate. He confirmed that he was ready to enter his warp trance, and wished Brielle the Emperor's blessings. The words of a prayer began scrolling across the screen, 'We pray for those lost in the warp… and Brielle knew that it would loop over, repeatedly, until Sagis was awakened, and the Fairlight was once again safe in the real universe.
She reclined in her command throne as she felt the deep growl of the Fairlight's warp drive steadily build. A build up of psychic power, felt deep in the soul, accompanyed the subsonic noise. Every spacefarer felt it differently, but to Brielle it was a keen longing for home, or to be anywhere other than where they were about to go-
As the last of the crew assumed their stations, the deck officer strapping himself into his own chair last, the Fairlight began her dive. As her forward velocity increased exponentially, the air pressure on the bridge rose and a violent shaking set in. Bri
elle saw from a nearby pict that the Rosetta had completed her dive, and quickly scanned the surrounding area one last time.
The order to dive perched on her lips, Brielle stalled. Despite the screen's jarring vibrations, she could make out a huge return less than forty thousand kilometres off the Fairlight's port bow. She punched a comm channel, connecting her straight through to her Navigator. 'Sagis… you see it?
She forced down a rising sense of panic, praying that her Navigator had not yet fully entered his trance, but realising that they were inexorably committed to the warp jump. The Navigator's reply scrolled across a data-slate.
++I see it ma'am. I shall attempt to compensate for its mass and proximity. The Emperor protect us all++
Brielle's mind raced. The other ship had emerged from nowhere, and she could read that its gravitic signature was well in excess of its class. Her breath caught in her throat as she realised with a start that it was clearly alien in origin. It did not appear to be intent upon any hostile action, but its mere appearance at such a crucial point in the Fairlight's jump had put Brielle's ship in incredible danger. She saw that she had but one option. She must trust to her Navigator's skill, for to pull out of the dive might tear her ship apart.
Gripping the arms of her command throne, Brielle issued her order. 'Jump!
CHAPTER FIVE
Korvane stood upon the shuttle pad at Chasmata Capitalis, his father's back facing him. The golden orb of Chasmata's star was just beginning its slow descent, sinking below the distant, jagged horizon, silhouetting the master of Arcadius against the dusky sky.
'We cannot wait for her, father. If we keep Luneberg hanging on he might take exception and cancel the deal.
'Without her, there is no deal. Most of the artefacts are aboard the Fairlight.
Where the hell was she? Lucian looked up into the rapidly darkening skies of Mundus Chasmata, as if he would see his daughter's shuttle descending through the dark clouds. He knew that could not be of course, for there appeared to be only a single shuttle operating the surface to orbit route, and the Chasmatans forbade travellers descending in their own vessels.
'She must have mistimed her jump. She'll ruin the whole thing if she's late'
'Hmm' Lucian turned to face his son. 'We have two choices: beg that scat-hound Luneberg to wait until Brielle arrives with her cargo, or bluff our way through. If we let him know she's been delayed, he'll sense weakness and the whole deal will go ahead on his, not our, terms. We can certainly delay for a short time — even Luneberg knows ships don't travel through the empyrean in perfect formation. If we proceed as if everything's fine, we'll earn Brielle time to catch up'
'Do you think she'll arrive at all, Father?
Lucian bristled at his son's words. He had faith that his daughter was safe, but he had been concerned enough to seek the counsel of the Oceanid's Navigator.
'I've consulted Adept Baru. He informs me that conditions became rough immediately following our translation, but he felt confident that Sagis and the vessel he navigated had come to no harm'
Ваru had actually said more than that, but Lucian was far from keen to repeat his words. The Navigator had stated that, had the Fairlight come to harm within the warp, he would have known immediately. The beasts that dwell within the Sea of Souls would have howled with such desire at the prospect of devouring a Navigator that every one of his kind in the sector would have felt their brother's soul-death.
'So we continue with the talks as if nothing was awry. Understood?
'Understood, Father'
'I trust your mission was successful my dear Lucian? The… goods were transported without incident?
Culpepper Luneberg sprawled upon his throne, a courtesan leaning languidly at each shoulder. Lucian stood before him, his son at his side. The vast throne room was empty, silent and eerie, swallowing up the small group in its deep gloom. Luneberg had summoned the rogue traders to his court the instant that they had landed, typical, Lucian thought, of the man's manners.
'It was most successful, my lord' Lucian would remain polite on the exterior, but inside he found himself feeling more irritated by Luneberg each time they met. The man presumed himself to be Lucian's superior, and addressed him as such. Did he not know that the Arcadius held a mandate as weighty as that of any Imperial Commander? By their Charter of Trade, granted by the authority of the High Lords of Terra, the Arcadius had the right to demand any service they required from the likes of Luneberg when going about their business. It was only at times such as these, when not directly pursuing that business, that Lucian was compelled to be polite to those he considered the petty nobility of a backwater world that had not once, in all the recorded annals of the Imperium's long, wartorn history, contributed anything of any worth to the race of men.
'I'm so glad to hear it. You must join my court in a celebratory feast, this evening'
'We'd be delighted' he demurred, whilst thinking: she'll never be here in time, we're skewed.
A courtesan put cherry-red lips to Luneberg's ear, whispering softly to him. Luneberg went to shoo her away, but looked at Lucian as he listened to her muffled words. She regarded Lucian smugly as Luneberg addressed him.
'All three of you will be joining us of course?
Utterly skewed. 'Of course, my lord, my family and myself will be honoured'
'Good. My factor will take care of our business' Luneberg's ever-present functionary bowed to Lucian.
He hadn't noted the man's presence before it was mentioned.
'I have arranged' the man now said, 'to have our cargo lighters convey the goods directly from your ships. They are docking with the Rosetta, even now, and we only require your authority to complete the transfer.
'Understood' Lucian replied to the man, noting that, only now, when it suited them, were the Chasmatans capable of displaying a degree of efficiency.
Lucian bowed as Luneberg stood, the courtesans arranging themselves demurely around the Imperial Commander as he did so. With the slightest of reciprocal nods, the Imperial Commander left, leaving Lucian distractedly wondering what the hell had become of his daughter, and the cargo she carried.
Brielle stood in the centre of her cargo hold, opened crates scattered around her feet.
The chamber's stasis field had failed during the jump, and once the Fairlight was back in the real universe, in the Chasmata system and safely inbound to Chasmata itself, Brielle had come to inspect the damage. Several of the crates had fallen open, and what she had found within the first few had driven her to open them all.
Weapons, the crates contained weapons. The Arcadius had been reduced to gunrunners. Seeing that each item was unique, Brielle had immediately realised that the shipment represented a collection of samples. It was nothing more than that.
Brielle simmered as she hefted a long rifle. It was something approaching two metres in length, but was almost too easy to lift. Its business end housed a metallic sphere that rotated in three dimensions, allowing, Brielle guessed, for its smooth handling. She braced the weapon at her shoulder, marvelling at the way its bulk rotated around the gyroscopic sphere, and closed one eye. As she drew a bead on a non-existent target, a small box rose from the body of the weapon. She started, pulling her head sharply away, but saw that the box housed some form of sighting device. She placed her eye to it, cautiously peering through. On the tiny screen within, blocky alien text flowed around a central crosshair, picking out all manner of objects within the hold.
Brielle could not read the text, but she knew such a weapon far surpassed the vast majority of those of human manufacture. Granted, those such as the mighty Adeptus Astartes had access to equivalent technologies, but what might Luneberg want with them? She could draw only one conclusion. Luneberg meant to make war — but on whom?
As far as Brielle was concerned, Luneberg had dishonoured the Arcadius gravely. He had made them petty smugglers, and her father had failed to see it coming. She felt her rage boil to the surface as she remembered how Korvan
e had simpered, certain in his view that what he saw as a respectable joint venture with the Imperial Commander would bring both parties profit and honour. She expected more of her father, but would he listen to her if she warned him? Should she try now? Most likely, he would accuse her of meddling in matters outside of her concern. Better to bide her time, she decided, before contacting her father.
She kicked an open crate, hard. This whole deal was rapidly spiralling out of control, and she seemed to be the only one with any idea just how badly.
Lucian, in his stateroom, stood before a mirror that magnified his image threefold, studying his reflection. His reflection glared straight back at him, his discomfort and annoyance writ large on his face. He wore the finest familial regalia, armour, medals, cloak and all, intent as he was upon distracting Luneberg from Brielle's absence. Whilst his son had been called away to deal with the business of authorising the cargo transfer from the Rosetta, Lucian had contacted the Oceanid, speaking to the vessel's Navigator once more. Adept Baru had restated his earlier opinion that the Fairlight had not been lost upon the tides of the warp, and had appeared confident that Brielle had not been greatly delayed. Lucian was tense nonetheless, for a Navigator was, in his experience generally pleased enough with a window of several weeks, so long as no harm came to his vessel. Ваru was undoubtedly a cut above the average Navigator, if such a thing was possible, yet Lucian still felt his grasp on events outside of his navigation blister was vague at best.
