Getting Warhammered - [ 288 ] (Patreon)

Valenith looked down at the world he had been entrusted with by his Mistress. He knew it was only the first of many, but such things meant something. This was where she went from a wandering rogue psyker to a sovereign of her own making, and this was the world that housed her subjects, the ones that chose to be her subjects. It was also a prototype, he assumed, a framework for how she would rule worlds conquered or otherwise added to her domain. 

Vallia. The heart of her would-be empire, and the cradle of her dreams. The home of countless of those artificial ... things, that she claimed as her daughters. All of it, entrusted to him.

He was the one she trusted to watch over her subjects, her autonomous defences, her battle automata, and even the developing political system. Thankfully, the parts involving the human population required very little of his time. Alpha, one of his Mistress’ daughters, was doing a more than adequate job of shepherding them according to the guidelines laid down by her mother. He had no need or wish to interfere there.

“You must calm your mind,” Valenith spoke, not turning his gaze away from the rather beautiful scenery. Vallia was truly beautiful, almost like a Maiden World, and even those ‘arcologies’ that jutted out of the natural landscape somehow failed to ruin the sight. “Keeping your mind calm even in the most chaotic of situations is what makes or breaks a Psyker. Calm yourself, and those unruly energies you keep yanking about like a brutish ork will calm down alongside you.”

He himself was still far from the end of the road to mastering this new way. Soul energy was not warp energy, even if they were two versions of the same thing. They both had their own quirks, and each needed to be handled differently if one wanted to truly master them. 

Warp energy needed a firm hand to rein it in, to keep the antagonistic energy firmly within one’s grasp. Soul energy was different; it wasn’t actively malicious, but it was … eager, for lack of a better word. Yes, it was eager to be used and tended to take its cues from the present mindset of the psyker calling upon it. His Mistress likened it to a particularly empathetic puppy, always mimicking its owner’s emotional state. 

“N-not that easy!” his student said, gritting her teeth as she flailed about in the air, fluttering like a leaf in the wind. She kept launching herself around the air, bouncing around because she always overshot her telekinetic vectors and then tried to hastily correct them in her panic, with a similarly overcharged but directionally opposed vector. 

She wasn’t particularly talented, by his standards, and he would have refused to tutor her outright before … but what did any of that matter anymore? The girl, this Zara, had been taken in by his Mistress and enjoyed some of her favour, or perhaps it was mere pity.

Nonetheless, Mon’keigh and talentless she might be for now, none of that had to be a permanent shackle. She might be an Aeldari by tomorrow, if not in spirit, then in body, and he was sure his Mistress could enhance her mental capacities as well if she so wished. So teaching her wasn’t pointless. 

The only thing that mattered was her loyalty and resolve, neither of which did he find any fault in. He would have much rather tutored his kin, Faelarian of Cepharil, but that woman was much too absorbed in her own work to become his student.

His own power ever so gently unfurled, telekinetic forces held within his grip, steadying the girl.

“Stop,” he said, and she did so, letting him steady her. “Regulate the energy you use, start with only negating the pull of gravity with an upwards vector. I will suppress the wind for now, so you may ignore it.”

Was attempting to teach her how to fly, not the most optimal way to teach her? Perhaps, but if it worked, they could skip weeks of drudgery. Furthermore, the girl was very enthusiastic about learning the skill, to the point that she practised day after day until her body or mental focus gave out. 

It was also good for him, allowing him to relax away from all the chaos so typical of humans. He would do his duty, but spending a mere hour in those arcologies felt like an eternity. The architecture of them might have been familiar to him, and the high-ranking humans were bearable, but having to spend any length of time amidst them, feeling all their chaotic emotions? No. Humans were far too noisy for his tastes, both with their emotions and literally. He didn’t know how his Mistress could handle it, with her empathetic aura covering the entire globe at all times. 

The girl — Zara, he corrected himself — took a deep breath, and to her credit, didn’t whine or ask pointless questions. Her drive was a beautiful thing, shining brightly, and one of the primary reasons he decided to entertain her request. 

“I’m ready,” she said, and Valenith nodded, releasing her from his telekinetic grasp. 

Her altitude dropped immediately, but unlike the first time, she took to her sudden reintroduction to gravity with grace. That is, she didn’t scream like she had done the first couple of times they’d done this. He could feel her practising the meditative breathing exercise he’d shown her to calm herself, even as she plummeted towards the ground.

Her descent started to slow, her velocity fading away bit by bit. It was still jerky, but a massive improvement compared to when she’d instantly launched herself spinning through the air in a panic. 

Then she stopped, hovering in place with a frown of utter focus written across her features. A brief smile fluttered across Valenith’s face as he watched her take another breath, then start her slow ascent, being extremely careful with her kinetic vectors this time around. Her pace was a crawl, but she was moving, and more importantly, she was in control of her motion.

Perhaps I’ve been a bit too harsh. I shouldn’t compare a regular human psyker to my kin and my Mistress. He mused. Not that he’d met much of them, but compared to other human psykers, Zara might have actually been quite impressive. 

He kept a watch on her progress, ready to catch the girl if she ever seemed like she was about to crash. Her dying wouldn’t be permanent, not with her soul safely housed in Mistress’ Realm, but it would significantly derail his timetable if he had to wait for her to be resurrected. 

What a strange thing it was to treat death as merely a roadblock, a small stumble upon one’s path. Was this how his ancient brethren who lived before the time of She Who Thirsts felt? They were all immortal, reincarnating endlessly after death. Now, his kind had a chance — faint as it was — at returning to something resembling that, if not quite the same. No, it would never be the same, but they … didn’t deserve the same. Their ruination was brought about by their own folly, a result of their ways. If they wanted to avoid repeating it, they would have to learn to hold on to the lessons the last fifteen millennia had taught them. Asuryan’s teachings couldn’t be allowed to fade. 

He glanced over at his student as she came to hover next to him with a smug smile brimming with self-satisfaction. He gave her a nod.

“Well done,” Valenith said. “We shall continue your telekinetic lessons later. For now, something has cropped up: another ork tribe is getting rowdy, so it’s time for a culling. It will be a nice way to test yourself in combat.”

A steely expression replaced her smirk, and Zara nodded. “I’m ready.”

“We’ll see,” Val replied without any heat. He hasn’t gotten to instructing her in psyker combat as of yet, but she’d been a combat psyker in the retinue of a human Inquisitor. He wanted to see exactly what he was working with before getting started. “Come.”

Space bent under his touch, folding upon itself and encasing the two of them within its embrace. A moment passed before it unfolded again, depositing them in the air above a sizable ork settlement with a population numbering somewhere in the tens of thousands. 

Valenith stretched his power, letting energy seep through the fabric of reality and become lightning under his expert control. Electricity crackled in the sky, far and wide, gathering into a storm that stretched to hang over the entirety of the settlement. 

Orks stared up, and as would be expected of their kind, cheered. 

“SPARKY IZ ‘ERE!” They all chanted as one, making Valenith’s eyebrows twitch in irritation. These stupid creatures. They took his presence, his coming to cull their numbers after they overreached, as an honour. Because they thought it meant that- “WE IZ STRONG!”

That. Stupid things. To think this was what remained of the mighty beings who had once fought side by side with his ancient kin to fell Star Gods … well, it wasn’t only the Aeldari who were hollow shells of their former selves. Perhaps they, too, would be able to reclaim some shred of their former glory under his Mistress’s hand.

“Go,” Valenith said, arms crossed behind his back as he floated there, peering down at the orks. “I will grant you an opening. Show me what you can do.”

To her credit, the girl merely nodded, drawing in some soul energy and readying herself by applying her wards. Good. 

With a thought, the electric energy reined in under his firm grasp was loosened, and the sky fell on top of the orks. It lasted but a moment, but it erased their shoddily built aircraft and gargants, along with a good portion of the population. 

Their remains would feed the world, thereby powering his Mistress’s battle automata and other autonomous systems. This was their tithe, beyond the obvious one they gleefully paid whenever they slaughtered one another.

His student clad herself in a sheath of telekinetic power, then flung herself at the nearest ork, not unlike a cannonball. No finesse, just raw power. It was effective, if brutish. His Mistress would probably applaud it, but he had higher standards.

Within moments, she was lashing out at nearby enemies with somewhat controlled bursts of telekinesis. One had its head blasted right off its shoulders, another got its spine broken, a third crumpled upon itself like a piece of paper and so on and so forth. 

Valenith kept watch, ready to intervene if his student looked as if she were about to be overwhelmed, and began taking mental notes. Zara’s combat instincts were acceptable, good even, but she was wasteful with her attacks, predictable too. It wasn’t a problem against orks, but anyone with even just a single brain cell? She’d be easy to counter for an opponent of equal psychic might. 

She had a long road ahead of her, but he could see a future where she fought with the cunning and deadly grace he would expect from a student of his. 

*****

Ciaphas Cain was in the midst of doubting every last decision he’s ever made that led up to this moment. He was in a Teleportarium, once again dressed in that strange armour that he was still not sure wasn’t trying to eat him. 

Where did it all go wrong? He should have stayed on Perlia, insisting on continuing his retirement after the second siege of the planet was concluded. 

By the Emperor, both Amberley and the crazy psyker woman cared little about his over-inflated reputation. So how? How did he still end up as a part of a four-person — plus Jurgen — strike squad about to wage war against not one, but two war fleets?

Amberley. That woman was going to be the death of him. Why did she think it was a good idea to take the crazy, probably Perpetual Psyker up on her offer?

They could have both stayed up on Echidna’s colossal battleship, lazing away the days in one of their similarly oversized living quarters. He was already missing those divine bedsheets and the delicious alcohol. He could have spent months slowly going through sampling each of the bottles he’d found in his fridge. Apparently, Echidna had immediately used her latest gift to recreate any and all alcoholic beverages she could remember from ancient Terra. 

High Lords and Cardinals would have sold the clothes off their backs for a sip from any of those bottles. Authentic ancient Terran brews. Some of them were artificially aged to be centuries old through some strange sorcery. Truly, the Emperor was smiling upon him. Or maybe the last few days had just been an apology for what he was about to go through.

“What can we expect on the other side?” Cain found himself asking, falling back on habits ingrained in him over the centuries. 

Echidna gave him an amused look, then straightened up in a mock salute. “We will be teleporting right into the heart of the largest nest of Genestealers on the planet. The primary targets will be the four Broodlords within close proximity of each other, spread out to the four corners of the nest, and the Patriarch currently staying in the middle.”

“Any reason why we’re starting there?” Cain asked. “There are … many more possible targets.”

“I suppose I could be convinced to start with one of the lesser hives if you want to get comfortable with your wargear in a bit less dangerous battle,” Echidna hummed. “On that note, what about your pet Pariah?”

“What about him?” Cain asked, a bit defensively. 

“Should I cover him in regular armour? Like, the Carapace armour equivalent, just made up of the same material as yours?” Echidna asked. “Or is he staying behind?”

“I go wherever the Commissar goes,” Jurgen answered with his usual lack of care for social niceties. 

Cain glanced at him, at the old, worn flak armour his aide wore, then back at their host. “I would very much appreciate it if you lent him a set of armour.”

Echidna just nodded, gesturing lazily towards Jurgen. The man tensed up as bits of the floor turned fluid and rose up, covering him up to the top of his head. It retreated a moment later, leaving him covered in a sleek armour reminiscent of Carapace, though with even better coverage. 

“So, why not the big nest?" She asked. “I think the plan’s strategically sound, so I’d like to hear your reasoning.”

“It is strategically sound, even if it is a touch challenging to get used to weighing the risks with these ridiculously powerful Armour you have clad us in, added into the equation,” Amberley cut in, sending a glance over at Cain that had his mouth snapping shut. “I think hitting them hard and fast would be good, though killing those Broodlords won’t have the same disruptive effect on the Hive Mind as it would have usually. Not with so many synapse creatures on the planet. The effect will be limited and localised.”

“I was planning to time it so the two of the Norn Queens are taken out at the same time,” Echidna said idly, like she hadn’t just spouted something ridiculous. “My assassin drones are already in place.”

“I see,” Amberley said slowly, clearly taking a moment to process what the crazy woman had just said. But she wasn’t just any normal woman, quickly bouncing back while Cain was still wrestling with the implications. “That would do it. The death of even a single Norn Queen throws Tyranids into chaos for a good while. Two dying at the same time would leave the entire splinter fleet present in the system disoriented.”

She’d teleported assassins onboard a Bioship from halfway across the system. She has assassins that not even the best Tyranid bioforms can sniff out. She has assassins who can take down a Norn Queen without fuss. She can communicate with them instantly, and without transit lag across half the system. 

It was horrifying. Cain promised himself that if anyone in the Imperium was stupid enough to make an enemy out of this woman, he was going to jump ship. Frak his reputation, frak the Commissariate and frak high command. It wouldn’t be worth it. Echidna was a worse enemy than an entire Necron Tomb World put together, and his experiences with that enigmatic race still caused lingering nightmares.

“Well then.” Echidna clapped and grinned. “That sounds like an agreement. So, no more objections?”

Everyone answered with a ‘no’ or shook their heads, which only made her grin wider. 

“Alright!” She turned around, facing down the far wall of the Teleportariom as her own armour crept up her body and encased it within its protective embrace. “Come along, my minions. We have monsters to slay!”