It was just as well that he could mind-speak to Fireblade, as their small group followed the Custodes back inside the Imperial Palace.
After all, his tongue was far too dry to form words, no matter how he tried to force any amount of moisture back into his shock-parched mouth.
He was
alive.
Fireblade was alive.
And they were being led back
inside the inner Imperial Palace itself!
To speak to a— what was a ‘Lord Regent,’ anyways? That was no Administratum title that he was aware of, nor one from the Ecclesiarchy, nor—
{It seems you know little more than we do.} Fireblade’s mind echoed within his.
Now, it was only a small portion of Alex’s psyche that even
cared to note how worryingly unbothered he was by a xenos’s mind touching his so intimately.
The rest of him didn’t even notice, any more. {Yes. But— but we are alive.}
Admittedly, a much larger part of his psyche did note that he felt just as relieved at the loroi’s survival as at his own.
Especially Fireblade’s.
Because she was so linked to him, of course. With…
whatever strange mental ties bound them together — could it truly be a soul-binding? — there would doubtlessly be very painful consequences upon one if the other were to die.
And far outweighing all of his merely-mortal concerns, the Holy Light that had fallen upon Fireblade without harming her could only be a sign of Divine approval! Something that would never be granted to a xenos… but perhaps to an
actual abhuman?
Surely that was the reason for his relief.
‘
Although…’ a long-suppressed corner of his mind noted, ‘
if she is indeed declared an abhuman rather than an outright xenos, there are fewer prohibitions against ‘consorting’ with—’ He quickly stamped on that thought. Such mundane fantasies were
not the sort of thing that one should even imagine, when setting one’s feet upon the Holy floor tiles of the sacred Imperial Palace!
And by the sharp glance that Fireblade threw at him just then, he hadn’t suppressed the thought quickly enough.
But thankfully, the xen—
abhuman said nothing.
Or, ‘sent’ nothing.
Whatever.
Torch-lights lit up the night far below them, where the thronging masses of the Faithful pressed onwards through the main entrance to the publicly-accessible portions of the Palace.
But today, Alex — and three loroi! — would enter via a secondary portal. Golden doors many stories tall parted ahead of them — no using a minor side-entrance this time!
{Can you not ask them who this ‘Lord Regent’ is?} Fireblade sent, her crimson hair bobbing in the incense-scented breeze flowing from inside the building as she nodded towards the towering Custodes.
{‘Ask’ a
Custodian!?} Alex blinked in disbelief. {They are the Emperor’s own Chosen guards! They are Demigods! One does not
ask them for a personnel directory!}
They proceeded along yet another broad, gold-plated corridor, following their guide up along an extensive flight of stairs many hundreds of feet long. More Custodians stood at each intersection, utterly motionless as they waited at watch.
The undeniable weight of history pressed down upon them, the sheer majesty of their grand surroundings impossible to ignore. These were ancient halls crafted by a God’s vision, stairs upon whose golden radiance Demigods had once trodden.
What could one do, other then let sheer awe overwhelm them?
{Have your people never invented ‘elevators’?} Fireblade asked, as the group finally reached the top of the incline.
Alex chose not to dignify her impious complaint with an answer.
Tempo then spoke from behind him “Is it normal to have what was apparently a religious investigation handed over to secular authorities? That does not match the impression I received earlier of how your Imperium operates.”
Alex turned, meeting Tempo's crimson eyes as she led Beryl by the hand, allowing the listel to follow the group even while her head rotated constantly one way and another, drinking in the unparalleled beauty and splendor of the Palace. “No, it is not. But all the same ‘Lord Regent’ does not
sound like an Ecclesiarchy title, so perhaps we are indeed to be—”
In front of them, the Custodian guide silently halted in front of a large doorway off of the corridor. Raising one massive fist, he knocked twice on the golden portal before stepping smartly to the side.
The doors slid apart without a sound, and Alex’s eyes shot wide-open.
///////
Fireblade’s surprise matched that of Alex.
She could feel that he did not recognize the people within the chamber beyond any more than she did, but evidently
something about the two armored giants standing off to one side of the vast, illuminated table there meant more to him than to her. By the bright coloration of their armor, they seemed to be of a different caste than the Custodians who otherwise matched their height.
One giant was armored in blue and gold, a golden ring reaching up from his armor behind his head. Two curved sprigs of some alien plant were mounted on that ring, framing the gigantic human’s head.
The other wore black with green trim, a similar but more angular ring behind his head. The face of some alien beast snarled out from the right shoulder-pad of his armor, fangs bared. But what made him perhaps the most peculiar human she had yet seen was his fur.
Or rather, some form of hair.
On his
face.
Not on his scalp, but on his chin. And curling around the sides, up by his ears. Also above his mouth.
Bright-gray with an occasional streak of aged yellow, it seemed too well-ordered to be some form of genetic defect yet also too regular to be some form of strange worn decoration or affectation.
They are indeed strange, these humans.
It seemed that Alex was just as confused as she was, for he stood frozen, framed in the entryway as the two giants turned their heads to look inquisitively at him.
His thoughts only looped repeatedly back on themselves, too confusingly for Fireblade to follow. But how to knock him out of his shock? A telekinetic or physical blow right now seemed to be a risky option, seen to come from a loroi to a human…
Her eyes flicked to Hairy-chin.
And back to Alex, as an amused idea struck her. One that she deliberately lifted to the forefront of her mind, so that Alex would surely sense it.
It was good that the faces of loroi males — and of Alex — were not marred by hairs that way, especially not above the mouth; those hairs seemed like they would itch against the lips of any partner who kis—
Alex’s head spun so quickly that Fireblade’s neck ached in sympathy, staring wide-eyed at her. Shifting between incredulous shock and annoyance.
{Well?} She asked pointedly. Nodded towards the room ahead of him, his fellow humans clearly waiting for him to enter.
Alex shook his head and coughed, but stepped inside. The loroi followed.
Fireblade carefully kept the smirk off of her face. Just like a junior warrior on her first posting after diral graduation, Alex was far too easy to fluster. But again similarly, an experienced officer could use that to force them out of a mental freeze.
And besides, it was
funny.
“The Sororitas inform me,” rumbled Blue-giant, “that you have been graced by father’s…
attention.” His voice echoed in her mind, as the alien phonemes that meant nothing to her directly were matched a fraction of a solon later to the understanding relayed from Alex’s own mind.
Fireblade raised one eyebrow. This large human was a child of the human emperor?
“Y-yes, Lord Primarch.” Alex replied, before taking a deep breath. It didn’t seem to keep the astonishment out of his mind… or help with how his eyes still bulged as he stared up at the stern-faced giant. “I was told to report to a ‘Lord Regent?’”
“That is I.” Blue-giant answered, and while it was hard to tell because of the unusually-deep timbre of his voice, Fireblade was certain that she detected more than a hint of distaste with the title. “You and your companions arrived via the Webway Gate?”
“You
know of it!?” Alex blurted out, a moment before Fireblade caught the embarrassment and terror sloshing around his mind at having spoken so to a child of his Emperor.
The door closed behind the four of them with an echoing boom, leaving the room illuminated only dimly by flickering candle-light and the glow from the table in the center. A map of the galaxy, if Fireblade was not mistaken, but zoomed out to such an extreme extent that the entire Wheel was visible.
It was Hairy-chin who spoke next. “I am more curious that you know of it. You… and
them.” He stepped away from the table, stalking in a slow circle around the loroi.
Each of whom met his evaluating stare levelly. They were
warriors, after all; an unusually-tall alien was nowhere near enough to intimidate them.
“They did not know of it until I discovered a Gate upon their colonized world, my Lord Primar— uh, Lord Regent.”
“Where is this world?” Blue-giant asked, waving one massive, armored hand at the map projected before him.
“It is—” Alex paused, staring back at Fireblade over his shoulder.
{Do not tell them.} she sent back, pleading rather than forcefully. {
Please.}
The Imperial leadership had not condemned Fireblade, Beryl and Tempo to death just yet, yes, but that was nowhere near cause to let them know where the Union itself was. Who knew what these genocidal aliens might do, if brought into contact with the much-younger loroi star empire?
“I—” Alex swallowed. “I do not know.”
Evidently, the compulsory-honesty effect of the three human Canonesses was not matched in this room.
Blue-giant squinted at Alex, and off to one side Fireblade saw Hairy-chin pause in his circling. “You do not.”
The doubt was clear in his rumbling voice.
Alex frantically shook his head, unable to speak.
{Thank you.} Fireblade sent, allowing her heart-felt honesty to suffuse the sanzai.
{I— I did not— I
could not reveal it!} Alex exclaimed, horrified… and the stubborn relief which shot through his shots clearly only made his sense of self-betrayal worse. {What did you
do to me?}
{I did nothing.} She snapped back. Yet clearly something had affected Alex; what could possibly have prevented the human from being honest to his leader of whom he was clearly in awe?
Blue-giant raised one gigantic armored hand to his face, thumb and forefinger rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “I see. Yv—” he paused, glancing aside at Hairy-chin, before continuing “
Emissary, step forward, if you please.”
Out of the shadows lining the perimeter of the room came a most unexpected sight.
{That is another ‘Eldar,’ is she not?} Fireblade asked, eyeing the new alien.
Pale complexion, normal-shaped ears, eerily-thin build barely visible through the dim lighting… it certainly looked like the aliens from the vision back on Deinar.
{Yes?} Alex replied, utter confusion wrapped tightly around his sanzai. {But a xenos, here on
Holy Terra!?}
She sent him a glance, which he of course could not see through the back of his head. Yet he clearly felt her thought, and added {Unlike you, these xenos are
known to humanity, for as long as we have been space-faring. Sometimes co-belligerents against Chaos or even worse xenos, but more often duplicitous betrayers whose professed aid only leads to greater suffering and hardships in the end. None would mistake them for ‘abhumans.’ And—}
His mind blanked-out with shock as the glow of the table’s light fully illuminated the Eldar’s face as she stood at the side of Blue-giant. {And I
know that Eldar!}
{You seem to be a most unusual Imperial Human.} Fireblade let the thought slip out of her mind.
Alex ignored it. {That is Yvraine, their ‘Daughter of Shades’! She is of Biel-Tan, a prophet of their new God! What is
she of all Eldar doing here!?}
Blue-giant waved his hand again, and the map of the Wheel displayed on the table shifted. Now a network of thousands — at least — of nodes spread out across the galaxy, connected by wandering and meandering lines.
The giant human asked the Eldar “Do you know of any such…
beings as these loroi? Or of what path through your Webway they may have taken to reach Terra?”
The smaller alien — noticeably taller than any loroi Fireblade knew, yes, but still dwarfed by Blue-giant at her side — peered across the table at the three loroi in turn. Her eyes only narrowing further with each one, and as her gaze fell upon Fireblade a recognizable frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.
Fireblade would have remarked upon the strangeness of meeting this second alien species that looked so much like her own people… but by now she was indeed most certain that she was looking at a descendant of her own creators.
A descendant of the
Soia.
Before this ‘Yvraine’ could answer, another being stepped up behind her.
Crimson armor, a white sash tied around the waist, arching red spokes behind the shoulder as if to evoke wings. And a high, pointed helmet that hid its face.
By its height, another Eldar?
Alex paled, taking an involuntary step back. A wave of terror washed up against the inadequate discipline of his civilian-grade mind {
Drukhar—!} He could not finish the thought.
Whatever it was, it rested one hand on the pommel of a sword hanging at one hip, utterly ignoring the way that Hairy-chin’s eyes immediately locked onto him as that giant matched the Eldar's threatening gesture. Yvraine turned her head to look at her fellow Eldar for several solon, before turning back to Blue-giant.
And spoke rapidly in yet another language that Fireblade did not recognize.
{Aeldari.} supplied Alex, unsurprisingly enough. Then {Lord Guilliman knows
Aeldari!?}
{That is unusual?}
{It is not a language compatible with the human mind. Or any mind that is not Eldar. Yet she speaks it so rapidly that I cannot draw any meaning from it myself, clearly assuming that Lord Guilliman can follow.}
Blue-giant’s — ‘Guilliman’s, it seemed — brows darkened, and he shot a brief glance at the three loroi. Then back to Yvraine.
And responded in that same flowing language.
Most interesting, then. {It seems that it is ‘compatible’ with your Lord Regent.}
Guilliman took one step to the side, interposing much of his armored bulk between Fireblade and Yvraine.
Protectively, even.
Fireblade raised one eyebrow. {It seems that this Yvraine is herself perhaps ‘compatible’ with—}
Alex’s incredulous wordless negation over sanzai came at the same moment as Hairy-chin strode back to the table in two great strides, one hand now openly gripping the handle of his own sword and ready to draw. “Out with it, brother. Not all of us have taken to familiarizing ourselves so with the Eldar
tongue.”
Siblings? Now this was most unusual.
Guilliman did not answer immediately, instead regarding Alex and the three loroi for several silent solon. Then said to Alex “You are a psyker.”
“I, not, uh—“ Alex fumbled, before his head slumped. “
Yes, my Lord.”
Evidently he could speak that truth. What made this one different?
“You have felt no discomfort in the presence of these loroi?”
“My Lord?” Alex asked, puzzlement as clear in his voice as in his mind. Turned to look at Fireblade, then back. “None at all, Lord Regent. Besides, uh, some initial concern of course, that was resolved only when I discovered them to be abhumans rather than, uh, xenos.”
The two brothers exchanged a frown, before Guilliman intoned again “They are Blanks.”
{What is a ‘Blank’?} Fireblade asked at the same time as a pulse of incredulity fought its way free of Alex’s mind.
“My Lord, that is… I
cannot believe it. I have—” Alex paused.
“You have
what.” Hairy-chin rumbled dangerously.
Alex answered slowly, clearly picking his words with care. “I thought them at first to be such, but since then I have spent much time in the company of— uh, in the
presence of these loroi, and have felt no effects. No pain, no discomfort, even.” To Fireblade, Alex added {A Blank is a mutant. One whose very presence inflicts everything from ‘pain’ to ‘agony’ upon even the most powerful psyker or creature of the Immaterium.}
She nodded in understanding at his earlier disbelief — if Alex had indeed felt any such strong sensations when near the loroi, he could hardly have hidden it from her.
Hairy-chin pointed one hand off into the darkness. “Tribune, please send for a psyker. An expendable one, a soul destined for the Astronomican.”
Fireblade followed his outstretched arm, and mostly-hidden in the shadows she could make out the towering golden form of yet another Custodian, candlelight glinting off of his pointed helmet as he nodded at the Primarch's request.
But did not move. Good — with all of the other strange mix of advanced and backwards technology, it seemed that at least these crazy aliens had invented
radio.
Fireblade ignored Alex’s pointed glare with what was by now long experience.
Guilliman nodded slowly, before returning his gaze to the table in front of him. “Psyker Jardin, you are certain that the world of these loroi is not to be found at
any of these Webway nodes?”
Fireblade peered over Alex’s shoulder as he examined the vast map. She had a vague idea of where the Union was within one spoke of the Wheel — like all loroi, especially those who served on starships — but only in a rather general sense. There had never been much reason before to locate the small dot of known space within the vast unexplored reaches of the entire galaxy, after all!
But apparently it was not ‘unexplored’ to these aliens. Webway dots were spread more-or-less evenly throughout the Wheel, a few of them even found in the vast gulfs between spokes.
Alex spent perhaps thirty solon quietly examining the map, even though Fireblade could feel his mixed elation and self-disgust spike within only a few solon. “Yes, my Lord.”
And he told the truth this time, as Fireblade could feel.
“I see.” Guilliman glanced down and behind him, as Yvraine stepped around his shielding bulk. Would physical presence like that ‘block’ a Blank’s effects? She would have to ask Alex… once it was determined if the loroi actually were similar to such humans.
Either way, the Eldar kept a narrow-eyed glare on Fireblade as she came forwards, a pained grimace working its way onto her features.
Well, no sense irritating someone who clearly had the ear of a prominent human leader.
Fireblade grabbed Alex’s hand, to pull him away from the table and stand further back, to give Yvraine some space. Which might not help, but—
The eldar took in a breath. It was not a loud noise, but amidst the quietness of the room it slammed into Fireblade’s ears.
Could the eldar read her mind, like a mizol?
Fireblade redoubled her mental defenses, left unchecked ever since their unexpected departure from Deinar.
Discomfort and hostility were no longer the only emotions visible in the eldar's eyes.
Curiosity.
In the humans’ normal language, the alien spoke “Loroi, please remove your hand from that of Jardin.”
Had she violated some taboo? Even
Zaralid Nedatan weren’t that offended by a mere moment of hand-touching!
Fireblade pulled her arm back nonetheless.
And Yvraine frowned, nodding slowly. “Now touch his hand once more.”
Fireblade’s own brows knitted together in brief irritation at being ordered around like an Academy cadet, but she did as the alien asked.
Yvraine nodded more sharply this time, speaking to Guilliman “His touch upon her skin shields entirely her jagged disruptions upon the Eversea.” Then to Alex “Jardin, touch your hand to that of one of your other loroi.”
Fireblade bristled. Beryl and Tempo — and she herself, of course — were not ‘Alex’s loroi.’
But still, she watched with some curiosity as Alex took Beryl’s hand, glancing back to Yvraine with a question as obvious on his face as in his mind.
After a moment, the eldar shook her head. Her overly-elaborate headdress — perhaps a shared taste for needlessly complex decoration was what put this particular eldar on seemingly-friendly grounds with a senior Imperial official? — glinted as the gems dangling from it swayed, chiming quietly against one another. “No effect. You are then
tied to this individual loroi? More than the others?”
“No! I mean, uh—” Alex’s face reddened as he fought to answer “I believe so, yes. I am far from certain, but I believe that, uh—” Fireblade could feel his mind at war with itself, as embarrassment fought against duty.
Duty won.
“—that I have become soul-bound to her.”
All three of the aliens across the table from Fireblade reacted with surprise to that. Yvraine cocked her head slightly — headdress-gems tinkling softly — while Guilliman raised one hand to rub his chin.
And Hairy-chin himself ran a hand over his scalp, wearily pressing his eyes closed when it passed them. “
How did you soul-bind yourself to a xen— to her?”
“I don’t know, my Lord, uh...” Alex’s mind panicked as he realized that he did not know the name of this son of his emperor.
{‘Hairy-chin.’} Fireblade sent, seeking to jar him out of his panic-spiral.
{
Not. Helping!} he replied frantically, but she could feel the laugh bubbling up through his worry.
Guilliman tilted his head towards his brother. “Lord Lion El’Jonson, Primarch of the First Legion, ‘Lion of Calib—‘” he cut himself off, as ‘El’Jonson’ shot a flat look at him. “
My brother, and the first friendly face that I have seen in this millennium or the last.”
“The
second friendly face, or so I hear.” El’Jonson corrected, with a pointed look at Yvraine.
“
Rumors.” Guilliman stressed, waving one hand.
Yvraine’s ears twitched.
When no more deep-toned speech was forthcoming, Alex continued hastily “I do not know how this has come to be, Lord El’Jonson. But it has already saved my life and soul at least one time from the assaults of Chaos, and I now believe multiple times.”
And while Alex clearly hadn’t ‘enjoyed’ the combats against those strange foes of his people, he hadn’t complained. Unusual, for a male. {Are such fights against daemons routine for humans?}
{They most
certainly are not!} he replied strongly. {Few humans even know that they exist; fewer still survive even a single encounter with such vile beings!}
That seemed odd. How could a civilization prosecute a war against an enemy whose existence was not told to most of the populace? How could warriors train for combat against an enemy of whom they knew nothing?
“
Chaos.” ground out both Primarchs in one voice, hate thick in their tone. “
Where.”
“Present alongside a xenos race that makes war upon the loroi, my Lords, and does so with the profane assistance of Daemonic forces. The loroi have fought against and banished four of these daemons in even the short time that I have known them, my Lord Primarchs. Fireblade is responsible for defeating two of them herself.” There was a clear note of boasting in his voice.
The two humans and one eldar stared searchingly at Fireblade.
She met their eyes levelly. The daemons had not seemed to be especially challenging to fight, but if this ‘blank’ theory was true then perhaps that was not the case for human warriors.
“Very...
intriguing.” Guilliman intoned, his eyes searching Fireblade’s. Whatever he found there, he nodded slowly and then turned back to Alex. “The Sororitas have also informed me that you recovered an ancient relic?”
“Yes, my Lord Regent.” Alex once more withdrew the Aquila with his one hand that was not securely held in Fireblade’s own — as a conciliatory gesture to the eldar, of course — and held it out.
Yvraine’s eyes widened, and as soon as Guilliman’s long arm had grabbed the two-headed symbol she snatched it from his hands. Turning it back and forth much as the Canonesses had done.
No sniffing, though.
The eldar jabbered at Guilliman in her own language, and then spoke in the human tongue “It is an Aeldari symbol.”
Alex’s mind balked. “But it is an
Aquila!”
The long-eared alien shook her head. “It is a Hawk of the Cult of Ancestral Khaine.” Her eyes rose to meet Fireblade’s across the table. “How did they come to find it?”
“It was found on—”
She spoke over him, as if to herself. “One of their worlds, of course...” The alien leaned towards them over the table, a surprisingly overt gesture for the eldar who had seemed so reserved compared to the towering Primarchs. “We
must know its location. The Cult of Ancestral Khaine were half-thought to be a long-lost legend, but with this… they were said to have been destroyed utterly for developing weapons that were in violation of the most-ancient Proscriptions of Vaul and Isha both.”
Fireblade fought down a shudder. She was fairly certain that she
was one of those ‘weapons.’
El’Jonson continued his circling patrol, now voicing from behind the loroi “How many lost Eldar superweapons is that, now? The last one put an end to Cadia; what world should we fear for next?”
{There are others?} Fireblade asked, a solon before the same question echoed from both Beryl and Tempo.
{I… don’t know. Of what he speaks, that is.} Alex responded. Preempting Fireblade’s next question, he added {And I am
not going to ask. Not of a Primarch. Not now.}
Fireblade held back a frustrated sigh. It wasn’t like she could blame Alex for his overawed reticence. If she was understanding the Imperium’s organization correctly, it seemed that this Guilliman was perhaps approximately equivalent to the Azerein’s Chief of Staff. And if Fireblade had been hauled in front of Torrai Oirel Lodestone, she certainly wouldn’t be inclined to send unless expressly sent to.
Guilliman rubbed at the bridge of his nose once more, eyes drifting closed.
Then snapping open, pinning Fireblade in place. “It would be in the best interests of your people if we were to…
search for these ancient weapons near your homeworld. The dangers they represent may be utterly beyond the understanding of a young people, new to the stars.”
All three loroi bristled — the Union were hardly ‘new’ to space travel. It had been over a thousand years since the first Deinarid—
{Humanity has been space-faring for over
tens of thousands of years.} Alex interjected. Fireblade didn’t need to see his face to know the thin smirk that now spread across his pale features. {The Ecclesiarchy says that it has been much longer, but at the very least I have personally seen voidships whose logs of service stretch back over eight-thousand continuous years.}
Fireblade would have doubted such a claim... but she could feel the truth of it in Alex’s mind. And it did explain how the strange aliens had spread across the galaxy even given their downright bizarre blend of archaic and advance technologies.
But the loroi were apparently not the only ones offended by Guilliman’s statement.
El’Jonson stopped in his circling of the room, hissing in the humans’ second language “[
Negotiating with the xenos? Have you gone mad, or are you assembling a
menagerie, brother? First your pet eldar, and now these ‘loroi’?]”
“[It is the most efficient option available to us.]”
“[More ‘efficient’ than a single small squadron? Send a few voidships, even just one of these ‘Chapters’ of your making, and the problem is resolved. Dig through the ashes for your prize artifacts if you insist, or simply leave this latest eldar horror buried wherever the fools stashed it.]”
Anger crackled along sanzai between the loroi, even as the hulking human’s words confirmed Fireblade’s fears — and expectations — of the barbaric Imperium.
“[We do not
have those spare forces.]” Guilliman admitted, voice weary. “[
Which world would you leave uncovered,
which greater threat would you leave unchallenged, all in the name of spilling yet more blood upon this ruined galaxy?]”
Fireblade’s eyes narrowed at the open revelation of the Imperium's weakened state — did the humans believe that the loroi did not understand their second language? Technically accurate, but Fireblade could hear them ‘through’ Alex and follow their words all the same.
“[
Xenos blood.]” was all of El’Jonson’s reply.
“[As well as the blood of whomever you left exposed to the predations of
worse xenos.]”
The green-and-black armored giant did not respond for several solon. He moved not at all except for his chin-hairs, which waved gently back-and-forth as he breathed. Eventually, he simply rumbled “[Father would not have approved.]”
Guilliman’s eyes flashed, and he waved one arm wide. Yvraine ducked her head slightly as his hand missed her headdress by a hand’s-width. “[Is there anything left of his dream —
our dream! — that he
would have approved of? Is there a
single principle that we once held which has not since been compromised utterly beyond recognition?]”
El’Jonson’s eyes dropped to Yvraine, narrowing. But before he could voice the thoughts writ large across his face, Alex drew in a deep breath and blurted out “My Lords, if I may, there is a… ‘vision’ stored within that Eldar Aquila which may shed light upon the situation.”
Unfortunately, Alex had also spoken before
Fireblade could stop him. {How will they respond if they discover what we are?}
{I do not know.} He responded. {But they are already speaking of a Crusade, and so any change can only be to the better.}
“Yes, I can sense it.” confirmed Yvraine less than a solon later.
Her rapid answer clearly surprised Alex. “Be careful, there is some form of trap—”
The eldar spoke over him. “It is no trap. The storage matrix required a recharge, and...” she raised her gaze from the statuette held in her lithe hands, and peered narrowly at Alex. “And you were able to power it yourself? It is not a device meant for non-Asuryani minds.”
“I— I had assistance.” Alex gestured weakly to Fireblade. “It did, uh, knock us unconscious for a few hours. And—”
“’And’?” Guilliman intoned.
“And it
did damage Fireblade’s soul. I repaired it as best as I could… using my own.” Alex’s mind flared with paradoxical relief at having uttered aloud his shameful act.
{An act which saved my life, from what you have told me.} Fireblade was getting tired of these humans and their pointless xenophobia. And besides, she could feel that Alex did not truly regret his actions in that artifact-room on Deinar. That ‘impious’ lack of regret only fueled his sense of shame, a blend of emotions that exasperated and stung her in equal measure.
Yvraine’s calculating gaze flicked from Alex to Fireblade. Nodding slowly and keeping her eyes on Fireblade, she half-turned to Guilliman and murmured “[The soul-binding, no doubt.]” He nodded in reply.
Fireblade bore the eldar’s scrutiny with indifference. It was too late now to try to cover-up the Soia/Eldar vision, meaning that the aliens in front of her would soon see it as well. And while Fireblade was no gallen, if she had to guess as to why the alien artifact had worked for her and Alex, it might have something to do with them having been
designed by ancient Eldar.
Soia.
Whatever.
“[Astonishing.]” El’Jonson grumbled, looking not at Alex but at his own brother. “[Is there
anyone in this modern Imperium who has not compromised themselves with a xenos?]” He shoved himself away from the table — which, impressively, did not shift under what had to be a significant force from the hulking alien — and resumed his agitated pacing around the perimeter of the room. “[
How many has that been, now?]” he asked nobody in particular.
One of the golden-armored Custodians standing half-hidden in the shadows answered immediately, after a brief glance of his ornate helmet towards Guilliman. “[Excepting those in this room, eighty-five Inquisitors are known to consort with xenos, as have ninety-three Rogue Traders. There are also several highly-improbable reports from both the Officio Assassinorum and the Blood Ravens Chapter. And, of course—”
With a muted
clang, another Custodian smacked the back of their armored hand into the speaker’s chest-plate.
Guilliman didn’t even look up from where he had returned to massaging the bridge of his nose. “[
Thank you, Tribune.]”
As Fireblade relayed the humans’ conversation, Beryl noted {These aliens are indeed most strange.}
Tempo and Fireblade could only agree.
Or perhaps this was simply why a wise civilization did not let males serve as warriors: it had clearly warped the minds of these alien ones.
All this time, Yvraine had been running her hands over the not-Aquila, murmuring silently under her breath.
Then with a sharp intake of breath, the eldar straightened upright.
Rigidly, as if electrocuted.
Had the statuette not been disarmed fully?
Yvraine’s head snapped over to Fireblade, and then Tempo and Beryl. Her eyes wide, underneath a furrowed brow.
Ah.
{It seems that one of these eldar can read the vision more rapidly than you and Alex managed.} Tempo guessed, mirroring Fireblade’s deduction.
With a few terse words in her own flowing language, Yvraine handed the Hawk statuette to Guilliman.
Who unhesitatingly grasped it, the ancient artifact all but disappearing in the primarch’s massive hand.
After a few solon, he nodded sharply. A hard-to-read expression veiled his face, as two piercing eyes burned into the statuette grasped in front of him. “
I see.”
{Or perhaps this is simply it functioning as intended.} Beryl sent.
Guilliman turned to Fireblade. “The world shown in that Aeldari record... it is your
homeworld, is it not?”
{Should I confirm his suspicion?} she asked Tempo. This was definitely a decision to be made by a mizol, not a teidar.
For Guilliman to have asked that so bluntly seemed to indicate that he had a
reason to believe it. Had he seen something different in that vision to have made such an accurate guess? Alex had said many cycles ago — which now felt like
days ago — that he thought there was more than that single vision ‘stored’ somehow in the Hawk statuette.
Had Yvraine and Guilliman seen more of the Soia-era Eldar vision than she had?
Tempo did not answer immediately. It was only after a few beats that she sent {If the vision that we saw contained no navigational data pointing to Deinar, then confirming that the visions were of that world should be of little risk. And it seems that this leader of the Imperium is not as aggressively hostile to us as expected from Alex’s knowledge of his people… which implies that perhaps it would be worth providing this data, as a gesture of
non-hostility on our part.}
That… sounded like mizol-speak for 'yes.'
{It is.} Tempo confirmed, wry humor swirling around her brief sending.
Fireblade nodded to Guilliman.
Who let out a sharp breath. While keeping a calculating gaze on Fireblade, the blue-armored giant held out the statuette for his brother. After a moment of obvious doubt, El’Jonson also took the statuette.
But — surprisingly — his reaction was the
more understated compared to Yvraine’s and his brother’s.
“[Impossible.]” A single word.
“[I think not.]” His brother answered, eyes still searching Fireblade’s. “[It answers a few questions we thought long-buried.]” To one of the Custodians, he asked “[When is that psyker arriving? A theory is in need of testing.]”
Before the golden-armored warrior could answer, El’Jonson interjected “[You cannot believe that they are…
that.]”
“[I believe precisely so. They match the characteristics about which father warned us: near-human in appearance, alien in biology, and Yvraine states that they are strong in their ability to affect the Immaterium.]” The whole time, Guilliman’s searching gaze did not leave Fireblade’s. Eyes flicking minutely back-and-forth as if he could read her carefully-guarded thoughts.
“[That was ten-thousand
years ago, brother! The half-rumor that father chased since before the Unification...]” he jabbed one finger accusingly at Fireblade, but his gaze did not leave Guilliman’s face “[is not
that!]”
Guilliman turned his head to Yvraine for a moment, even as his eyes continued scanning the three loroi. “Is that Aeldari pict-recorder reliable? Has it been tampered with in any way?”
“Not using any technique whose evidence I can detect.” the other alien replied. “Yet my expertise in this field is limited; I must refrain from stating my full confidence until an expert of my people has performed their own analysis.” She looked up at Guilliman from the artifact, and her tone hardened slightly. “Once I
return it to my people, of course.”
The corner of the blue-armored human’s mouth twitched downwards, and he let out a breath. Returning to to their second language, he spoke lowly “[I... must insist that that artifact
not leave this planet.]”
“[It is a record of
my people, seemingly from before our ancestors descended into their ultimate folly! What may be learned from it—]”
“[Is precisely the problem.]” Guilliman interrupted, every line on his face taut. “[It concerns
both of our peoples. You are perfectly aware of what use certain factions among the Aeldari would put such...
revelations as can be quickly deduced from that artifact.]”
Once Fireblade had relayed the aliens’ arguing amongst each other, Tempo mused {That may be for the best. It is bad enough that the
Imperium knows of our existence; the less that the wider galaxy knows of the Union the better, until we can stand against them.}
{You think we could not do so now?} Fireblade shot back instantly, reflexively. Then grimaced, as she acknowledged the truth of Tempo’s point. But still, she felt the need to stand up for the Union. They had fought the Shells to a stand-still even after their treacherous surprise attack, after all! {Once we have finished the fight against the Hierarchy, of course.}
The tone of Tempo’s sanzai conveyed the mizol’s understanding of Fireblade’s un-sent thoughts. {Their empire spans the galaxy… and still they seem to be barely holding out. Neither they nor their foes are anyone that I would wish to see the Union have to fight, no matter how half-primitive they may be.}
Yvraine’s grim expression matched Fireblade’s own, the Eldar turning the ancient artifact over in her hands several times. Only after more than sixteen solon did she eventually place it down flat on the table. Let out a long, slow breath. “[Very well. Its secret shall remain so.]”
“[It should be
destroyed.]” rumbled El’Jonson, his harsh tone coming from a scowl half-hidden behind his face-hairs. “[Even if we pretend it to be
anything other than some deliberate deception, the risk of that vision being found is far too great to tolerate its continued existence! The only possible benefit that it could ever bring would be the absolute destruction of this abominable cult of Lorgar’s!]”
“[And Humanity along with it.]” Guilliman added flatly.
El’Jonson’s face-hair twitched, as he blew out a sharp breath in response.
Any further conversation was put on halt as a loud clattering of metal sounded from behind them all, from the corridor outside. A waved hand from Guilliman saw one of the Custodians open the door, to admit a—
{What is
that?} Beryl asked, stepping aside as the red-robed… ‘creature’ stormed past them. Instead of footfalls, a rhythmic pattering of sharp metal-on-stone clicks followed it.
Whatever it was, the shape underneath that large robe was not loroi-oid... and thus not
human-oid. Most surprising, for the humans to allow even another alien onto their homeworld?
Instead of speaking aloud in words, a harsh and grating buzz sounded from what was presumably the creature’s head.
Apparently, both Primarchs understood the sound’s meaning, for all that Alex’s mind could not parse it any more than could Fireblade.
The two brothers’ faces immediately went taut.
“[
Now, of all times!?]” Guilliman raised his voice.
More buzzing.
“[Then requisition as many menials as will be required to effect repairs.]” Standing up abruptly, the blue-armored giant turned his head to one of the Custodians. “[Tribune, have your mean clear out the lower levels in preparation for the work crews.]”
{Some sort of structural collapse?} Fireblade asked Alex, in a wild guess. She had felt nothing, no tremors underfoot, but in a structure so impractically gigantic that did not necessarily mean anything. For one thing, the giant Custodians filing quickly out of the room somehow managed to make no noise even as their massive armored boots strode across the metal flooring.
{I… think so.} the human replied hesitantly. {I can’t imagine what else it—
you can understand High Gothic!?}
{
You can.} she replied.
And suppressed a faint smirk at the way that the human shuddered once he realized the implication.
One of the remaining golden-armored guards in the room inclined his conical helmet shallowly in the direction of the three loroi and Alex. Guilliman’s eyes snapped to them, and then narrowed briefly. “[Escort them to one of the free residential units in the Palace. Keep them under heavy guard.]”
El’Jonson nodded immediately at that. “[Best have several of the Sisterhood stand watch as well.]” His eyes slid to Fireblade, hardening. “[
If they are of Eldar make, none here dare guess what sorcery they may be capable—]”
Both of the giant humans froze, before their heads snapped around to stare wide-eyed at one blank wall.
Well, ‘blank’ aside from the intricately-carved golden frescoes that covered it entirely, just like every other surface in this absurd alien building.
But what were they
actually looking at?
Frowning, Fireblade placed one hand on Alex’s shoulder, leaning closer and focusing on her now-familiar mental link with the human.
Which emphasized the glow of light through the wall. The ever-present golden light that she had evidently gotten used to ever since her mind started being able to ‘see’ things through the alien now under her fingers.
The glow that the humans said was their ‘god-emperor’ himself.
After several solon of the aliens only staring at the glowing golden wall, El’Jonson flinched, growling “[Has he gone
mad? He must be joki—]”
Guilliman only ran one massive tiredly hand over his face. “[When have you
ever known him to ‘joke,’ brother?]”
{You claimed that humans cannot use sanzai. Aside from those rare ‘astropaths’ you mentioned.} Fireblade poked at Alex’s mind. She had felt the honesty in his thoughts when he had first explained that.
{We cannot.} His thoughts bounced and clattered against themselves. {But Primarchs are a rule unto themselves, each one created by the God-Emperor’s own hands. And so—}
His sanzai collapsed into a blur of thoughts too jumbled to receive.
{‘Hands’ are usually not directly involved in how one creates children.} She sent, seeing if some mild irreverence would jar Alex back into coherence. {Unless you humans do things
most differently.}
Which she was mostly certain they didn’t. Nothing of what she had seen of Alex that first day aboard
Tempest had seemed too dissimilar from its loroi equivalent, at least. Aside from coloration and that ever-present body-hair of theirs. That must
really itch.
Alex ignored her. Indeed, she could detect that he did not receive her sanzai at all.
But at least he sent again {And so... perhaps they can hear their Holy Father’s Voice, directly.} His trembling hands rose, slender and pale alien fingers interlacing across his rapidly rising-and-falling chest. {From the God-Emperor.}
{A pity we could not overhear the message.} She shrugged.
Alex craned his neck to glare up at her, although with more incredulity than anger visible in his eyes. {‘Overhear’ the
God-Emperor!?}
She raised one eyebrow. {Is that any more strange than linking minds with an ‘abhuman’?} One corner of her mouth curled into a grin, as she emphasized one thought in particular.
Fireblade wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about the apparent possibility that the Soia had made humans ‘from’ loroi. That the loroi were their template species, essentially. It was…
most strange to think about.
But it definitely bothered her less than it did Alex, and so teasing the human about it was entertaining enough to take her mind off of the ominous fact that she, Beryl and Tempo were the only loroi on a planet full of their violent, xenocidal, and violently xenocidal ‘cousin species.’
Cousins who laid hands on Tempo and Beryl just then, one Custodian stepping quickly behind each one and pulling the blaster and laser-pistol from their respective holsters before either warrior could react.
Those golden giants were faster than they looked.
Much faster.
{
Don’t fight!} Alex’s insistent thought bored into Fireblade’s mind just as she reached for her powers. For their part, the other two loroi had evidently made the same decision and had not resisted being so abruptly disarmed.
At the same moment, Guilliman spoke aloud in an unreadable voice as he stepped around the table towards them. “Congratulations… ‘abhumans.’ You are to be granted a most rare honor.”
{What does he mean?} Fireblade asked, warily eyeing the approaching human.
{I have no idea.} Alex responded. Then his eyes glanced up and past her, and he blurted out “She doesn’t carry a weapon.”
A protestation which didn’t stop two massive golden-armored gauntlets from quickly and methodically feeling alongside Fireblade’s sides. With as much dignity as she could muster while being searched, she sent archly {I
am a weapon.}
It struck her only a half-solon too late that perhaps she should not have reminded Alex of that. If whatever ‘honor’ the humans intended for the three loroi required them to be disarmed, what would they do with a teidar if they knew what she was capable of?
{Yes... yes you are.} Alex replied, clearly thinking along the same lines as he stared thoughtfully at her.
She eyed him silently, both of them holding the other’s gaze for several silent moments.
But Alex did not speak aloud to warn his people, even as Guilliman strode past them and towards the open door. Nor as El’Jonson followed his brother, sparing a brief scowl at the four of them before calling after the blue-armored giant “[Brother, you forget the shackles.]”
‘
Shackles!?’ Fireblade glared at the hairy human, uncaring of the Custodian at his side whose helmet tracked her every move, halberd-gun at ready. If he thought that
shackling a teidar would protect him from her—
Alex’s shoulder nudged hers insistently, and he rapidly shook his head. {Don’t. Don’t even
think about it. He is a
Primarch.}
{He is an arrogant
dirt-eater.} She replied matter-of-factly. Although presumably humans could not
actually reach such a size on a vegetarian diet. {Rude and condescending.}
The fact that he did
perhaps have a point when discussing three uninvited warriors of a foreign power who had appeared without warning within his at-war nation’s capital wasn’t worth mentioning, of course.
{Is he any worse than Stillstorm?}
That brought her up short, and nearly forced a laugh from her down-turned lips. {Perhaps not.}
In the time that their sanzai-fast conversation had raced back and forth, Guilliman only waved one hand to the side. “[I will not sully the quiet dignity of father’s sepulcher by manacling his requested guests.]”
Fireblade frowned, and sent to Alex {Does he mean what I think he does?}
…
{Alex?}
She stepped quickly aside and caught the human as he slumped bonelessly, mind-signature nose-diving into unconsciousness amidst a spike of shocked disbelief.
{Good idea, not revealing your telekinesis by using it to arrest his fall.} Tempo commented, as Fireblade hauled Alex up and pulled one of his arms around her shoulder. By what she could sense of his mind, he would not reawaken for many solon.
{Yes, of course.} She replied, conscious of Beryl’s ever-memorizing eyes on her. And also aware that she had acted
faster than conscious thought, and that her instinctual response to physically grab Alex had less to do with hiding her own powers from the humans and more to do with ensuring that he did not come to harm. After all, the ornate and often sharp-edged decorations that the humans slathered over every square mannal of interior space here was a much less safe environment to push a person about in than one of
Tempest’s personnel elevators.
And Alex, for all of the human’s often exasperatingly-alien thought patterns — no matter what more recent revelations may imply, the humans
were alien in beliefs and opinions if not in ancestry — was their only real ‘ally’ on this entire planet. Best not to let him come to harm.
As a purely pragmatic concern, of course.
Shoving her thoughts down to keep them out of her sanzai, Fireblade sent to the other two {Now, let’s go see what a supposedly ‘ten-thousand years’ old human looks like.}
///////
And so things escalate further. After all, Emps has put a /lot/ of work into arranging this meeting... and has
risked much as well. No matter how unimaginable it is for His sons, He /will/ push His plan forwards.
Anyways, my characterization of Guilliman and the Lion draws a lot more from fanon than from canon, but I’m having too much fun with it to hew closer to GW’s more recent fluff. In particular, almost everything I care to know about the Lion’s character (and his relationship with Guilliman) comes from
this particular video.
And for anyone who wondered where the title of this fanfic as a whole came from, it is no longer a major spoiler to say that it is from the short story
Specialist by Robert Sheckley, published in 1953. Much like Larry Niven’s later ‘Pak’ series, it plays with the fun idea of ‘what if humans had been meant to be merely one part of some ancient alien bio-engineered system?’ And what setting would lead to
more outrage from that kind of revelation than 40k’s Imperium?
Finally, in the spirit of 1980’s/90’s weird-and-wacky buddy-cop shows, I can unofficially subtitle this fanfiction with “He’s a psyker. She’s a genetically-engineered super-Blank. They fight
crime Chaos!”
