Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Warp travel was either overrated, or my tech worked really good to dissipate the mind-fuckery involved. The moment the Mekhane’s warp drives activated, the ship’s viewports erupted in swirling, scintillating colors to the mundane eye. Other than the interesting view, nothing else occurred on the ship. Status readings were optimal across the board, the sensors kept track of the Imperial fleet without any interruptions, and there was no tugging at my soul like I had expected.

 

Toggling the Navigator’s third eye sight though, I could make out the flow of patterns in the sea of colors. It was like adding dyes into a wave generator to reveal the invisible currents.

 

“Proceeding with orders,” the ship’s new AI declared in a dull monotone, and the oversized vessel began powering up its engines to keep speed with the Imperium vessels.

 

“How’s the Geller Fields holding up?” I inquired as I reclined in the captain’s seat. I had to order one in from a contracted artisan, no thanks to the Mechanicum’s previous captain’s lack of a lower body. The guy had to be torn out of what was basically a life support container, having been integrated quite extensively to the ship’s system.

 

Well, we’re not going down that stupid route, not with far more effective AIs that I can monitor and tweak via console.

 

Mekhane’s voice filled the empty bridge to give me the expected answer. “The Nexus-grade generator remains stable with negligible changes. The Imperium/Mechanicum control is experiencing occasional stresses that would warrant Euclid-2 conditions, fluctuating between approximately 72 to 96 percent shield integrity. The modified Imperium/Mechanicum generator experiences significantly less stresses, suffering no worse than 83 percent shield integrity.”

 

Huh, so adapted wardings did make a big difference. I didn’t think it’d scale up so efficiently considering the size of the ship. I’ll have to try the Liquid-T coolant on the way back, and see if live-scale testing changes its effectiveness as well.

 

“How’s the psykers?”

 

“Both inhabitants of the control and modified generators show little changes thus far.”

 

Oh yeah, Imperium Geller Fields were generated by the dreams of comatose psykers. We ‘volunteered’ the more…uncooperative psychics we captured for the Geller field testing, though we made sure the cramped hole they were sealed in were given some warding runes and healing emitters to keep them alive, not to mention their life support system was upgraded as well.

 

It felt like nonsensical warp-tech, but it worked, so…yeah. Can’t call bullshit unfortunately.

 

Fortunately, our own anti-Warp bubble was powered by Tiberium crystals, essentially draining and converting the generic metaphysical energy into the same sort of multi-purpose eldritch shielding we used to plug up the holes in Leng. We just included the Immaterium’s metanatural realm into the shielding matrix and recalculated the spatial definitions to maximize efficiency. The result of said efficiency was that the Nexus’ Geller Field was considerably smaller than Imperium ones, but since our shieldings didn’t fluctuate much, it wasn’t much of an issue.

 

Which was also why we could test the Imperium’s Warp shieldings. So far, their reality bubbles were decent enough, but I can already imagine how badly things would deteriorate over the next ten millenia should the Heresy take place.

 

Probably doesn’t help that I’m about to set back the Mechanicum by a bit either. I wasn’t going to outright ruin the convenient galactic buffer that was the Imperium of Man, but the chance of further opening up my Nexus’ tech tree was something I was not going to pass up.

 

Speaking of tech trees…

 

“Mekhane, what’s the latency for the LSPN like?”

 

“Connection is fluctuating in quality, but otherwise the connection so far remains uninterrupted with negligible latency changes.”

 

Huh. Looks like we were pessimistic in our expectations then. If contact can be maintained pretty much the same with reality, it’d mean big things for our interstellar logistics. Assuming we used Warp travel, anyway. 

 

“Cool, send the ping package back to Eva, and if things go well, you can begin testing on the transmission quality.”

 

Since the multi-reality lacing Li String Particle Network was working, it would mean that our teleportation tech could be theoretically feasible. It’d take a bit of testing to make sure, but that’s more good news for us.

 

I can imagine being able to summon Sentinels during boarding actions in the Warp might be a big advantage for us. Or if worse comes to worst, we can evacuate the ship safely. 

 

In this case, I get to evacuate the ship safely.

 

Other than that, Mekhane would be taking the opportunity to gather data about the Warp. Our experiments in the past week were small scale and very unsatisfactory due to having to rely on the salvaged Imperium modules. We simply didn’t know enough for me to feel safe about keeping Warp portals open for too long, even with Tiberium working as a decent nullifier.

 

But here, immersed in the semi-parallel dimension, we can gather all the data. And if the teleporters work, we can also bring in some bots and equipment to conduct on-site studies.

 

The trip to Terra is gonna take about a month or so, so here’s hoping the teleporters work or it’ll be a long, lonely trip with Mekhane.

 

I endured a full week of boredom aboard the captured Mechanicum relic before the final results came in, confirming that teleportation and other multi-reality bandwidths were working with minimal disruption. Console view double-confirmed it, showing no changes to the lines of the objects and test subjects sent over. Mekhane even steered into a turbulent Warp eddy to make sure that the latency and shielding held up in harsher environments.. 

 

As the bots were sent aboard along with more comprehensive testing equipment, I returned back to my Earth to see to other items on the agenda.

 

*****

 

If not for the numbing agony, she would still be dwelling on the humiliation of her current predicament. A rising, promising star in the growing Wych cults, contemptuously out-duelling rivals and pushing the boundaries of the art of murder…only to be brought low by a collection of upstart mon’keigh that were barely considered a civilization.

 

The ignominious defeat was etched in her mind, a bitter lesson of how grace, precision and skill were useless against a tide of virtually unbreakable monstrosities. She and her cult sisters had lashed out and danced away from the swarming metal limbs, but the things were much faster than even the cult’s succubi. Instead of wading into the enemy as they usually did, the Wyches had to stick desperately together in their ships’ narrow hallways or be dragged away by clawed tentacles.

 

Her own defeat, though she was among the last to fall, was a quick thing. With the culled group herded into a deadend, the metal servitors surged forth, a twisting metal wave with baleful red glows that couldn’t be evaded or stopped. It was the first time she had tasted the abject terror and despair of her usually confident sisters.

 

Even now, in her small cell, wisps of that familiar taste slipped through the faintest of gaps in the door, along with the fading echoes of their screams. It was the only thing keeping her alive so far. Most of the fading agony wafted in whenever the door opened, and the robots entered to force feed her tasteless nutrient paste. 

 

The arrival of her captors quickly became a bittersweet event, where she would desperately feed on the remnants of suffering of her kin, while enduring the humiliation of being treated as a captive of little importance.

 

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As she sat curled in the corner, awaiting the next feeding time, she stared down at herself once more to pass the time. Her alabaster skin was tinged with withering gray, while her hair was a tangled, matted thing that clung to her back like a parasite, its once lustrous crimson dulled to a tepid rust-red. Her corded muscles were gone now, leaving her a wretched, almost skeletal frame.

 

All in all, she was far cry from the picture of a Wych, more akin to the desperate, fading souls in the shadows of Lower Commoragh.

 

Her head snapped up as the door opened again, and her body tensed up in preparation for another round of force feeding. Resisting or fleeing had proven useless, earning nothing but broken limbs that would be healed right after the feeding tube was retracted from her abdomen. 

 

Something was different, though. These mon’keigh robots were missing the feeding apparatus. Instead, grasping claws grabbed at her limbs and unceremoniously carried her out of her cell.

 

In her weakened state, she could only provide a token resistance while her mind fought off the rising panic. It would now be her turn to scream, it seemed.

 

She was brought into a plain, dome-shaped room and strapped onto a slab, and even keen Eldar vision could not make anything out in the darkness beyond her illuminated torture rack. A green crystal came into view, carried by one of the floating three-armed automata. There was something in it that even her dulled psychic senses could feel, terrifying due to its utterly foreign nature.

 

As it was brought closer, she realized what was happening. The void in her very being was being closed. Not sated nor temporarily filled with the suffering of others, the maw that loomed over her soul was actually shrinking away. There was a relief, a lightness she never knew existed as less and less of her very soul was being drained away.

 

The robot withdrew the crystal, and she gasped aloud as the sick, hollow feeling returned as the Great Enemy in the Immaterium gnawed on her soul unhindered once more. The dark weight of it left her sobbing pitifully.

 

Another crystal appeared at the edge of her teary vision, this one glowing blue. The effects were the same, though she remained aware enough through the euphoria to notice that it was further away than the green shard to affect her with the same potency. She bit back a sharp gasp as the blue crystal was placed right beside her, and an invisible shroud of comfort and security fell upon her. There was not even the slightest ache in her twisted being, there was no primal, desperate desire to torment someone else that she might feed off it.

 

She felt…at peace. And then she reminisced about her life up until now, about her past kills, and almost regretted it. The exquisite kills and thrilling dance of blades were…admirable and worthy of pride, but it did not elicit any of the sharp, excited tang of pleasure as it once did. There was no heady bliss as she recalled her victims’ agony. There was pride and vindication in the display of her skills, but none of the savage, satisfied joys of a perfectly executed murder.

 

There was no sweetness in the terrified faces in her mind’s eye. All her kills, all her exquisitely performed mutilations… It all felt so numb now, so unsatisfying.

 

Pointless.

 

A new panic surged in her as she began questioning her existence thus far. Was that all she was, an addicted sadist? Was that all her people were? She couldn’t remember any genuine joy, any true happiness, only twisted dopplegangers of those emotions as she fed on suffering.

 

It was the fighting. She desperately held onto the sliver of martial pride, the satisfaction of bettering herself and winning duels. That was all that was left that was of any worth - a savage warrior of the Wych Cults, who fought for her survival every day, entertainment be damned.

 

As she wept, she saw the robot reach for the blue crystal. Immediately her body struggled and her head shook. “No! No! Not again! Please!” There was no shame, only the desperate need to remain in this pathetically emotional state instead of returning to the slow obliteration of her soul. 

 

The machine froze, claws just inches from the shard as if mocking her. Her true captor took that opportunity to finally show themselves in the flesh. He was a mon’keigh, of course. A male, possibly in his prime, and his movements belied his confidence and his skills. A dangerous specimen then, one that might have been worth a few seconds tormenting on the arena grounds.

 

He regarded her with a bland expression, though she felt the weight of his gaze as he studied her. “You prefer having the crystal with you?” he asked as he approached her side. She didn’t bother puzzling over how his primitive tongue could master the Eldar language. There had been enough captives that the mon’keigh could burn through using even the basest of technology to decipher it.

 

Some might say that she nodded a bit too eagerly, but she didn’t have it in her to risk being devious. Not when it came to matters of her soul.

 

His hand reached out, and a finger lightly tapped on her forehead. Before, she might have recoiled in disgust. But now, with the human clearly having an offer to be made? She kept silently still.

 

Her eyes widened in shock as the automata quickly snatched the blue crystal and floated away, but before she could cry out in protest, her mind registered how the hungering void did not return. She blinked at the human, who grinned at her in turn.

 

“I can let you keep this state for as long as I like, and how long I’d like your soul to be as it is will be wholly dependent on how cooperative you are. Do you understand me?”

 

She nodded, slower this time at the crass but effective blackmail.

 

“Good. Now, what is your name?”

 

“Lelith,” she answered without hesitation, and for some reason the human seemed surprised. Or at least she thought that the widening of eyes registered as that emotion. Human savages were always so hard to fully read.

 

“Hesperax?”

 

She answered with a confused nod. Had one of the other Wyches spoken about her? Was that why she was here now?

 

He regained his composure quickly enough after that, and an amused smile - there was no way of mistaking it for anything else - graced his features. “So, Lelith, I just have a few questions to verify with you.”

 

She understood the situation she was in, and began to answer everything he asked of her without hesitation or the slightest attempt at bending the truth. This human was promising her some form of freedom with her soul intact, in exchange for worthless information about Commoragh and the noble houses there. What the mon’keigh could even do with such information was beyond her, but it was a cheap enough price for Lelith’s honesty.

 

True to his word, she was freed from the shackles and was escorted out into a different hallway. Her new room was furnished with far more amenities, including a bed that actually matched the luxurious comfort of the Commoragh nobility. Lelith enjoyed her first deep sleep in a long while, uncaring about the possibility of her captors coming in to take her away for further tormenting.

 

That they actually let her enjoy her first sleep as a whole Eldar was as surprising to her as finding what could only be salvaged rations from the raiding fleet piling up by the entrance. After a quick test to ensure that the offered meal was not poisoned, she gorged herself on the familiar yet more distinct tastes of her home’s cuisine, and then Lelith discovered the bathroom and gave in to a long, luxurious shower.

 

When the robots arrived, the male was with them, and this time the interrogation was done in the comfort of her new room. More futile questions about Commoragh, this time to confirm information most likely offered by other Wyches. Lelith answered truthfully, though she held some puzzlement at the mon’keigh’s restrained gaze. She detected iron-clad control in his lack of emotions, but the tinge of lust was most definitely there.

 

Should she appreciate the fact that even the primitive species found her appealing, or be disgusted by it?

 

Lelith wondered if she should have explored that conundrum before he left promptly after finishing with his questions.

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