Chapter 30 - 'Boutes Big Score
- Location
- Germany
I apparated instantly, deeper into the Hive... only to find I had to fight against a mis-tone, a disharmony that rose in counterpoint to my teleport and hindered me. Double crap.
I felt a spike of real fear. That fucking Hive was back, and it looked like it was figuring out my magic! There had been Zoanthropes in that swarm.
Tap-dancing ROB, I had known the Hive was both powerful and smart, but to figure out my extra-universal magic? And so quickly!
Just then the Forge secured another mote. It was called DNA lock and came from... Lilo and Stitch? Seriously? It was the part of the guns that locked onto a creature's DNA.
Seemingly useless, but it was long-range DNA scanning technology, just as I was being attacked by Tyranids. The Forge did have a sense of humor sometimes. I wasn't quite sure what to do with that right now, but having scans of Tyranids at the genetic level may prove useful somehow. But that would likely need time, which I, once again, did not have!
I mean, for the moment I was safe, but how long would that last? The swarm would seek me.
Already the Noosphere was filling with panicked reports of attacks within the Hive.
What to do? I could play keep away, risk the swarm killing millions or more and maybe even growing in the process.
I could flee entirely, using the Hoplite.
Or I could fight. Isolate the Synapse creatures and whittle down the swarm, one by one. But I couldn't do it alone... which may provide an opportunity.
I appeared behind a defensive line of my own Decoys. Mortarion was zipping around in the air, Scythe ripping apart monsters, necrotic powers withering away those he only glanced at. Maybe his diseases and toxins were doing something too; I couldn't tell since the swarm died too quickly.
"Mortarion!" I called, when a lull in bioforms happened, local reserves apparently depleted. "Mortarion!"
He turned to me. "The real one then," and promptly rushed me, scythe raised high.
"Whoa! Time out! Truce!" I hastily formed a T with my arms. "I am calling a time out!" The monster-moth stopped in the air.
"Listen, both of us don't want the 'Nids to get me, right? So I am calling a truce until they are dealt with, yeah? You and me against the swarm."
Mortarion didn't even think about it. He merely nodded. "Truce."
Chittering screams echoed from another opening in the room, and another swarm rushed in. Gaunts, Warriors, Zoanthropes, Lictors, Gargoyles, and others I couldn't place immediately.
I instantly collected and sent a ball of searing flame at them, which exploded in their midst, scattering them and setting their volatile chemicals on fire. Hey, I did not ask how small the room is; I said I cast fireball.
Then Mortarion raised his hand and green... something dripped down from nowhere, hitting the bioforms and making them dissolve as they screeched horribly.
"Disgusting things," I grimaced.
An update reached my implant, from Briareus. "What the fuck!"
Mortarion turned to me questioningly.
"The Tyranids have fucking stealth ships!" I stared angrily upwards. "How did those get past the cordon? What are those idiots doing up there?"
"Prepare to fire," Abaddon ordered calmly. Well, as calm as he got, anyway.
He had kept the Armageddon Gun charged ever since the void battle began. That was dangerous; the Weapon core was volatile, but they were way past those concerns. A whole battalion of sorcerers were standing by, manipulating probability, assisted by Tzeentch himself to ensure the core would not go off half-baked. Now the preparation was paying off.
Less than an hour ago, the Tyranids had abruptly stopped playing dead and reengaged as a coherent, deadly force.
From what their scouts were telling, someone on the planet had noticed something suspicious, fired into the air, and discovered a cloaked Tyranid ship hovering over Hive Sylaxis.
A cloaked Tyranid bioship.
Apparently, the fucking bugs had stealth ships no one had known about. Though it explained a great deal, looking back. It was just another nasty surprise in this entire shitstorm of a day. Nay, week.
Well, his ship would at least eliminate one problem today.
"Armageddon Gun ready."
"Target acquired. Blessed equations calculate with demonic support."
"Secondary sacrifices prepared."
Abaddon nodded. "Fire!"
The ship did not rock; it sang with the backlash of the gun, the warp energies filling Abaddon with a pleasant, feverish heat as the bridge, and indeed the entire ship, swam with unreality for a moment.
From the prow, a vast beam, colored Empyrean Purple, shot forward, effortlessly punching through several ships and overwhelming the target shields.
The Ork War-Hulk detonated into a plasma fireball, as bright as a star. For a moment, the system had two suns.
With the moon died tens of thousands of Tyranid bioships that had clustered around it, as the biggest, most obvious threat to them.
Even before they "regained their sanity," the bugs had overwhelmed the defenders and were busy killing and devouring the Orks while still playing feral.
Now, with the need to play dead gone, they had overwhelmed the remaining defenders within minutes, rendering the War Hulk moot as an asset.
Its pieces served as useful shrapnel as even more Nid ships were shredded.
That only left ten thousand or so, despite the continuous long-range bombardment they had been subjected to. But that wouldn't be his problem any longer.
"Recharge the Weapon. Target Curranthum."
"But..."
"With the Primarchs potentially tying the Smith down, there is a chance he won't react fast enough."
"And... the Primarchs?"
"Expendable." Now, don't take him wrong. Abaddon would gladly kill any of his pompous 'uncles' any day of the week and call it a deed well done, but in this case, he was entirely truthful. Compared to securing or at least neutralizing the Smith, all other priorities were suspended.
"Time to recharge, twenty-six minutes. Time to target range, forty-six minutes."
Abaddon nodded, satisfied. These numbers meant they were burning out the projection barrels as well as sublight engines, but again... it did not matter. If they succeeded, the ship could be repaired; if they didn't succeed... well, then the ship did not matter anymore either.
Suddenly, alarms were blaring. "Webway portal opening starbo... holy shit!"
Abaddon was a Chaos Astartes, and as such, was fast enough to whip around and stare outside the massive bridge windows.
Just in time to see their doom coming.
The oversized webway portal that had opened close to the Planet Killer spat out a singular object.
Multiple kilometers high.
Twenty-six kilometers long.
As Abaddon looked to the side, he saw a gargantuan prow, a literally mountain-sized mass of blue and gold rushing towards him. He instantly sprinted off the bridge.
The Macragge's Honor's overlapping void shields hit the Planet Killer's void shield bubble. Both spheres flashed in multicolored light, the Honor slowing down as the Killer veered to the side as kinetic energies were transmitted.
Then the smaller ship's shields faltered, and the gigantic prow impacted, biting deep into its side.
The Killer's entire right side crumbled under the impact, two gun barrels snapping as kilometer-sized pieces of debris were flung into the void.
And then the Macragge's Honor opened fire.
On the Gloriana's bridge, Roboute Guilliman sat in the command throne, watching over the destruction with satisfaction.
Beside him, the Lady Yvraine stood, petting her Gyrinx, Alorynis. "See? I told you waiting a few moments with the emergence would pay off."
"Indeed," Guilliman noted in satisfaction as he watched the expanding cloud of Ork Hulk, Khornites, and tens of thousands of Tyranid ships.
Besides the Macragge, more ships were falling out of the webway. An armada of Imperial ships as well as Craftworld vessels, which immediately blurred with their holoscreens. Even a couple of Drukhari Corsairs had joined them on the way and were, reluctantly, accepted.
Guilliman took in the disposition of forces within the system via his implants and grimaced.
The Tyranids were not in good shape, but they had flung forward faster units (literally, other ships had sacrificed themselves for a gravity boost), and now chaos reigned among the defenders.
The remaining guard elements above Curranthum had at least reacted swiftly and were bombarding the Tyranid Hive ships from orbit, targeting them apart.
But at least three vessels had managed to sneak in, and each had rained down troops that had subverted the Hive shields and were now inside, wreaking havoc.
Guilliman gave a silent command, and immediately the prepared assault shuttles launched from across the fleet, escorted by their fastest craft. Even so, it would take quite a while before they reached the ground.
Until then, Guilliman had another task. The Hive fleet still posed a threat, and the defenders, without a single unifying command, were helpless.
"The fleets are in chaos," Yvraine grimaced.
"I may have an idea about that," Guilliman said, eyes glinting.
"Belisarius, can you wire my brain directly into the battlegrid?"
Cawl's axe thumped on the floor as he stood tall, free hand raised high. "I can wire anything directly into anything! I am Cawl/Toasterdaddy!"
Guilliman leaned back with a rakish grin. "Excellent. Then prepare to see a bureaucrat's brain in action."
Down on the planet, Mortarion and I were fighting off ever-increasing hordes of Tyranid monsters.
Since they were all linked, as soon as one group had found me, they all knew.
They were still fighting other units, but mostly as a holding action to prevent reinforcements from reaching us.
Meanwhile, we were trying the largest force, always careful to stay away from organic people. That meant that Mortarion and I were busy being constantly on the move to avoid being swamped.
I didn't apparate much anymore, only short distances to avoid attack. I also had no intention of apparating Mortarion with me.
I had no idea what his Patron would be able to grasp from my magic openly interacting with his like that, and I had no intention to risk it. Instead, we flew.
That was also risky. Like me, Mortarion used magic to fly, since like with Sanguinius, his wings weren't nearly big enough to actually carry him. And I had a nasty suspicion the Nids were tracking our 'magic signature' to home in on us, similar to Magnus.
That meant a constant aerial battle as we avoided Gargoyles and other flyers while receiving a constant 'flak barrage' from the ground units.
Thankfully, the Hive interior was twisted and broken enough that we could frequently fly into cover.
Whenever we fled a larger group, I dropped Dust or mass-produced battle automata in their wake.
It worked fairly well, to be honest. The automata were mostly immune to the spores and poisons, and their bodies offered no sustenance the Nids could feed on.
Their own weapons, especially the grav hammers, reaped a massive toll, tearing the smaller forms to shreds and incapacitating the larger ones.
My magic was still mostly effective. I could rain a literally endless hail of ammunition down on them, and if all else failed, I swallowed every pinned-down unit in unstable universes to collapse them into nothingness.
As for Mortarion... well, he was a Primarch.
"I can't tell, do your diseases and stuff actually work on them?" I yelled to him as we banked for another attack run.
"Somewhat. They are extremely resilient, but the Grandfather's gifts are supernatural in nature. And decay..." He swung an arc of green light that dissolved a group of Gaunts "...always works."
"Almost always," I corrected, but he did not answer.
Just then I got another Perk. Called Virtuoso, it came from the World of Darkness again. And it made me... a virtuoso.
Any form of art, be it painting, sculpting, music, or dance, would now allow me to express my emotions in an enticing, compelling manner.
Great. An incredibly powerful effect if I was just beginning, trying to leave my mark on Imperial society, but here and now? What was I supposed to do? Sing a Bug lullaby?
Besides, Marian glyph allowed me to express myself already perfectly.
Sadly, that did not mean everyone would be *convinced of what I said. Or maybe that was a feature. I already had too much power for any one baseline human.
I blinked and digested the information, but the distraction had almost been enough. A Gargoyle was shooting straight for me before an almost casual swing of Silence cut it into pieces. I swung my staff, and a dozen or so creatures were crushed. "This is dumb," I growled. "We can kill them for days, and they will just keep coming."
Channeling ambient power through my staff and ring helped keep the exertion down, but it wasn't zero, and the swarm showed no sign of abating. Hissing and growling showed another group was already on its way. I narrowed my eyes behind my helmet. "The fact they aren't coming all at once..."
"Obviously means they are herding us," Mortarion interrupted, sounding bored. "They are attempting to bring in bigger units to kill us."
I considered the options. I wasn't so sure the Nids weren't still trying to assimilate me. Killing me was only the second-best option, after all. So the herding was probably more meant to get me in range of a genestealer. Blergh. No thanks.
Any bigger units would likely be more meant for Morty here.
"I think they will try to take you out first," I told the Primarch as I sent forth lightning that annihilated another group of flyers.
"Yes," he agreed. "They know they need to take me out first. Without me, you would already have fallen to them."
"And without me, you would continue to mope, feeling sorry for yourself until Nurgle tires of you."
Mortarion did not answer, but visibly twitched in flight, and I allowed myself a smug little grin.
"You think we can use that to ambush them? Bait them into a trap?" I asked.
"We will move towards the Hive's edge. The larger creatures will have more trouble infiltrating. From the direction they attempted to herd us, it is obvious where these larger creatures are. But even then, there will be many Synapse creatures."
"Well, the fleet is doing a good job of taking out the stealth ships, at least." Through my implants, I was watching transmissions of the orbital bombardment.
The giant ships had stubbornly held position as more and more troops, likely freshly produced onboard, had been dropped and shielded the ground troops with their bodies. They paid for that with their lives.
The first one had already lost altitude control and went careening into the Hive's shields. Flickering and sparking, the force field diverted the ship's body, which crumbled and collapsed to slide down to the ground outside, kicking up a massive dust cloud.
More troops were streaming out from the corpse, but they were having a much worse time than the ones that got into the Hive. Curranthum had never been a life-carrying world, and the outside had been additionally polluted over the millennia with toxic dust and gases.
The ground level was one thick continuous toxic mist. All attackers and defenders used environmentally sealed suits when outside, but the Tyranids did not have that luxury.
They were ridiculously resilient towards poisons, heavy metals, and so on, but ultimately, even they had their limits. At the very least, they would be unable to replenish themselves from this dead world.
"But you are right," I told Mortarion. "Taking out the larger Synapse creatures is useful, but could take ages as well. And who knows what other surprises the Hive has kept for a rainy day. No, I am planning to draw one close in a controlled manner. And then I will deal with them."
"...I do not suppose you will share what it is you are planning to do?"
"Ha. Nope. Suffice to say, it has to do with my powers." I briefly considered if teaming up with Marcus or even Perturabo would make sense here. But no.
Having Mortarion around was bad enough, but at least he seemed barely motivated to harm me. The contact with the glowstone powder had robbed him of much of Nurgle's influence and what was left seemed to be mostly... well, depression.
But Magnus was experienced, smart and had his own plans and the last time Perturabo and I talked, he blew up a Hive defense wall soooo... no chance.
Just then the Forge missed another connection. Hm. New powers would have been nice, but the last ones hadn't exactly been game-changers, so I wasn't too torn up about it.
Time to set up our plan and hope the fleet managed to keep them far away so that the bioships could not just take over as Synapse creatures for the lost ones on the ground...
High above them, the Fleet was actually doing rather well. With Guilliman's brain linked into the battle computers via his own Black Carapace equivalent, the situation had changed.
Where before there had been chaos, dozens of disparate fleet elements doing their own thing, there now was beautiful, complex harmony.
Ships of various races corkscrewed through space, banking sharply or serenely floating by, seemingly without rhyme or reason, only to suddenly all fire at the same vessel in perfect synchronicity.
Hundreds of ships abruptly came together to fly in geometrically perfect formation for several salvos, only to suddenly fall apart again to evade enemy attacks.
Imperials, Traitors, Drukhari, Asuryani, and Necrons had linked up bit by bit as they had seen Guilliman's effectiveness. All animosity temporarily suspended, united by the desire to kill bugs and to not have the Celestial Smith become a genestealer puppet.
Hell, even the remaining Orks had joined in. In their transmission, the Ork Admiral had had his hands folded, crying and mumbling something about "De booty of dakka 'n motion." No one had touched that with a ten-meter pole and just accepted the extra vessels.
Now, the united fleets were being directed by perhaps the biggest bureaucratic brain in the galaxy, filling ships into formation, directing shots with meticulous precision and handing the Tyranids their butts in triplicate.
That being said, the Tyranids were hardly helpless. With the need to play dead obsolete, the remaining ships showed the full brilliance of the Hive Mind. Traps were countered with traps, feints with flanking, raw firepower with clouds of smaller vessels.
Guilliman was winning, but it was hardly easy, and for all his brilliance, the fleet had mostly dealt with the vanguard elements so far, preventing them from breaking through to the planet. The heavier fleet elements were still coming.
The situation looked better than it had before. But nothing was decided yet.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Yes," was the curt response. Was I imagining it, or was Mortarion sounding more... human? That really unhealthy wet rasp in his voice seemed to recede, at least.
We had proceeded ahead of the swarms, but closer to the edge, as if attempting to link up with the armies outside the Hive. I had used magic less and less, feigning exhaustion.
Now I was inside my own hypersphere, while a decoy radiating my signature proceeded on foot with my elven cloak, which in turn fudged the signal.
Taken altogether, it had to look like I was in trouble and we needed reinforcement, with Mortarion staying behind to buy me time. Coincidentally in a space we judged that larger creatures could have reached already. Well, Mortarion said they would be coming, and I trusted his Primarch brain.
We didn't have to wait long.
The first fast movers came swarming in, rushing straight for Mortarion.
But this time, as he cut them down, the next group was already moving in. No more wave attacks. The Nids were going all in.
I watched it over my implants with worry. The Primarch was handling himself effortlessly, but this time, there would be no flying retreat, no falling back to a better position.
For this to work, Mortarion had to stand his ground.
I had no intention of letting him die, but revealing myself would mean our gambit failed, and we would have to do this the hard and time-consuming way, and Magnus was breathing down my neck.
It took long minutes of waiting. Nervously, I observed that instead of rushing him directly, many Nids were encircling Mortarion, holding back and waiting. All meant to prevent his escape.
Then I heard it. It was too far away for my e-nav to pick up, but several remote constructs picked it up and transmitted it. A low growling noise. Followed by the explosion of the far wall. A host of Tyranids rushed through, three massive forms in the lead.
An Exocrine, which had shot apart the wall, a Maleceptor, clearly meant to combat our magics, and a Tyrant Guard, moving to shield the other two.
A host of more elite units swarmed by their sides.
Mortarion reacted immediately. A swing of his scythe, and I felt the Warp ring with misguided, wet tones.
Necrotic green energy hit the swarm head-on, dissolving many creatures outright and injuring others as their flesh simply rotted away.
More impactful were the numerous portals that opened in mid-air, spewing forth clouds of both noxious gases and supernatural diseases.
The Tyranids were extremely resilient to either, normally, but this was Nurgle's power itself. I saw hosts of Gaunts just keel over as all manner of nasty growths and injuries appeared on them from nowhere.
Even the three gargantuan units flinched as if running against a wall.
But the Maleceptor flared with power, and soon the swarm advanced again, though strongly diminished. It was an impressive display of power from both sides; I could feel the Warp echo and ring with power, but I knew Mortarion couldn't do this often. His reserves, in part due to my Glowstone powder, were limited.
Mortarion banked in the air, but instead of evading or seeking cover behind one of the tall structures in the room, he instead dove towards the enemy swarm, his scythe stretched out in front of him.
He impacted and an actual wave of monsters was tossed up in front of him, shielding him, as his sickness spread to the sides and infected the Nids he was passing.
He curved to the side as the Exocrine tried to track him and the Guard slashed with its arms.
They were massive and strong, but compared to the speed of a Primarch, they were lacking. Abruptly, Mortarion jinked and his scythe clipped the Guard, leaving a rent in its carapace armor.
Then the Maleceptor acted. Psionic power flared as the mental chittering of the swarm reached a fever pitch. Lightning-like, blue-white tendrils of power raced out and Mortarion was caught!
The strategy of the Hive was revealed. The Maleceptor to immobilize, the Exocrine to destroy, the Guard to protect and act as backup.
Several flyers now swarmed the Primarch to harass and help restrain him. They would be destroyed by the Exocrine's own shot, but why would the Hive care? It had reserves.
They scrambled, screeched, and clawed, and I could not tell if they were hurting Mortarion or being kept at bay by his armor. I tensed, unable to tell if I had to intervene or not.
I needn't have worried.
I felt the unclean power of the Primarch flex and like with my own spell, the power of the Maleceptor corroded away, no matter how nonsensical that was.
Next, the cloud of flyers around Mortarion was intersected by a series of blinding-fast cuts, looking like a cloud of strikes in mid-air. For a moment, their frozen bodies hung suspended, then fell to the ground in pieces and Mortarion emerged, seemingly unbothered.
The Exocrine had moved into position, the barrel on its back already lighting up when Lantern, Mortarion's sidearm, spit fire. The shot flew precisely into the gun-creature's gaping maw and interacted with the building bio-plasma inside.
The Exocrine shrieked as an explosion ripped sideways through the weapon-symbiont on its back, a series of smaller follow-up explosions making the creature stagger.
I shivered a little. I was very glad I hadn't tried fighting any of them on even footing. Angron had been easily led and against Fulgrim, I had had help. Hubris was still a trap for me. A good lesson to remember.
Mortarion dove towards the Guard next, all but ignoring any shot coming his way. "Which one do you want?" He asked me casually over vox. Bastard didn't even sound out of breath.
Ha, well, I mean, no more than usual.
"The Maleceptor, please. If you could stagger it for a moment or even knock it out, that would be great."
He did not answer but instead continued his assault on the Guard, occasional swings from his scythe keeping small fry away.
The Maleceptor, meanwhile, was blasting him from afar, using powerful attacks that forced Mortarion to divert attention and energy to corrode the psionic power away.
The Guard, despite its size, was fast, claws snapping and whistling through the air, but Mortarion kept up easily or blocked attacks and used their momentum.
Then suddenly, things got hectic, too fast for me to follow and a green bow of power rushed towards the Maleceptor, severing one of its legs.
It screeched but compensated easily, yellow blood gushing for a second before cutting off abruptly. The Exocrine was suddenly there, swinging its injured weapon mount in a clumsy attack, but the Primarch ducked and spun upwards, rushing towards the ceiling, tanking any stray shots.
"Get ready."
I hastily dropped a Minecraft potion from my inventory and downed it, the action seemingly slowing down to more sane speeds as I was sped up twenty percent.
Mortarion reached the ceiling, inverted to crouch and 'jumped' downward, blurring through the air as he brought the heft of his scythe to bear and impacted the Maleceptor's top.
The giant creature was visibly pushed down, and a sort of collective flinch went through the swarm, several creatures stumbling as if in sympathetic dizziness... and I had my opening.
I rushed out of the sphere and apparated, appearing right next to the stunned monster. "Immobilus!" The Maleceptor slowed.
I hastily drew a glyph into mid-air, then slammed my staff through it and into the exposed neural tissue at the monster's side, ignoring the disgustingly wet squelching noise.
"Imperio!"
Now, hear me out. Going toe to toe with the Hive was a...suboptimal idea, I get that. Was it reckless? Yes. Could it work? Yes. Were there better ways? Hell yes, but they all took time.
And there were mitigating options.
For one, all truly giant synapse creatures nearby had been killed.
No bioships, stealth-ed or otherwise, close by. People had checked by saturating Curranthum air and orbit space with weapons fire.
The ground forces' Hive connection was tenuous, a fact I could confirm by listening to the static in the Warp.
The sigil I had drawn in the air would also act as a sort of proxy server, designed to shield me as much as possible from the Tyranids' power. Furthermore, I was not trying to take over the Hive, merely the one, lone creature in front of me.
All in all, excellent conditions.
I nearly died.
If the proxy hadn't been there, if the power hadn't been channeled through my staff, if Logos hadn't flared on my finger to protect me, I would have died.
As it was, I screamed my pain into the Warp as the Maleceptor twitched and spasmed.
It felt like trying to scream over a chorus. No, like trying to take over the melody, like dictating it using my own, lone instrument. But it worked.
I wove my own tune, my own leading notes. The Maleceptor and the other creatures barely had any voice of their own. They were made to follow someone else. It just wasn't usually an outsider. What I did was supposed to be impossible.
But I was the motherfucking Celestial Smith. Impossible was what I had been made for.
I lost the grip on my flight power and half-fell to the ground with a grunt. My surroundings spun. Sharp warning signals beeped in my HUD, and when I managed to focus on them, they informed me I was bleeding from nose, eyes, and ears.
How did that work, with a nano body? I asked myself fuzzily.
I downed a healing potion and felt the physical injuries healing.
Gradually, my body returned to normal, but my mind... my head was pulsing. I felt tired, mentally. Emotionally.
Mortarion landed nearby, staring at the now docile Maleceptor. "Did you just...? What did you do?"
I listened inward, hearing the many tones of Tyranid broods, scattered throughout the Hive. Less than I feared, more than I had hoped.
The feedback was beyond strange. My mind was not equipped to deal with their mental architecture. There were sensations, thoughts and feelings I just could not parse.
For one thing, at most they seemed to think of themselves in a vague, third-person-ish type of way? They were not even animals. Just abstract nodes in the Hive.
My Maleceptor had not been the only large-scale Synapse creature, but it had been fairly high up in the hierarchy, and since there was no real beginning or end for individual Nids... I felt a shit-eating grin spread on my face. "I think I just... acquired some pets."
"Are you beyond insane?" Mortarion hissed, rebreather working hard. "To go against the Hive Mind directly?! Not even the gods are that reckless!"
"Worked, didn't it?" I quipped, feeling giddy with relief and adrenaline crash.
"IT COULD HAVE ENSLAVED YOU! YOU COULD HAVE BECOME A PUPPET FOR THE HIVE!"
"Oh, and me enslaved would be bad?"
"YOU UNBEL...YES!"
"But a puppet of Nurgle would be better?"
With an inarticulate scream, Mortarion sliced apart a block of debris.
The Tyranids moved uneasily at the closeness of violence.
My staff was flaring with light. I was continuously pumping power into the Imperio. I would not be able to keep this up forever. My mana reserves weren't unlimited. But I would last long enough.
"He is inevitable," Mortarion murmured, more to himself.
"Oh, is he?" I couldn't help the sharpness in my voice. Morty's emo shtick was getting old. "So escaping him is impossible? Resisting him? What about taking over Tyranids? Isn't that impossible?"
The hooded head vaguely turned in my direction.
"And now look!" I waved my arm, and dozens of Nids copied the motion. Which was pretty fucking cool, to be honest.
"I am the Celestial Smith! I was designed to do the impossible, repair and fix the broken, restore what was considered lost! I CAN. FREE. YOU."
...
"How?"
A gesture summoned my hypersphere. Mortarion stared at it. "This object exists in many dimensions. It cuts off the Warp and creates a version clean and separate from the Four. Step in and all your chains will be severed. Simple as that. All it requires is a little bit of faith."
Silence twitched, Mortarion's hand tightening and loosening. "Hope... hope is a lie..."
I raised an eyebrow. "I mean... yeah? Duh? Obviously. Of course hope is a lie, just like money or borders or dreams or justice. The point of being human is kinda to pick the important lies... and try to make them come true."
He didn't say anything. "There is also another lie, Mortarion: despair. Giving up before you are truly at the end. I mean, look at me. Before I came along, was there any hope of resisting the Tyranids? Destroying a fleet, taking them over like I did? Am I not the best proof that despair, that hopelessness, is not true either? If someone like me can come along? And if both hope and despair are equally false... would you not rather choose hope?"
We stood quietly.
I feel I had said what I could, anymore might be pushing to hard. I crossed my fingers behind my back.
Mortarion straightened, wings folding in.
Without looking at me, he strode towards the Sphere, upright, proud.
A King to his execution.
He stepped inside and It closed behind him.
Unlike with the others, I heard no screams. Only silence.
Deep in the warp, the Grandfather slumped in his garden. Why? Why had his favored son rejected his love? The inhabitants of his garden were silent, frightened to attract his attention.
In her cage, Isha sat up, eyes glittering.
Author's Note: I wanted to do that Roboute as Hermes joke for AGES! And now it fit!
Bureaucrats, the deadliest creatures in the galaxy.
Mortarion insists hope is an illusion, but, well, that is pretty much true for everything. So why not choose a nicer illusion?
DNA Lock On (Lilo and Stitch) 100: You're tired of pesky law enforcement personnel sneaking into your lab. To combat this you have created DNA lock on technology, allowing your machines to target specific creatures, and only them. Of course, this will require collecting their DNA first. You have put this to good use with inventions like your door that only opens for you, and the auto-turret that will refuse to fire if you're standing in the way.
Virtuoso (World of Darkness - Demon the Fallen) 100: There is nothing sexier than an artist. Music, painting, singing, you are a veritable virtuoso when you put your mind and faith into your work. Your emotions flow into musical pieces in ways that incite that same emotion in those that hear it. Those that look upon your art understand the deeper meanings of it almost instinctually, but it might always feel as if there is something they just can't grasp about it, something more. In some way, they can feel your divine touch by just experiencing your art.
150 points secured
I felt a spike of real fear. That fucking Hive was back, and it looked like it was figuring out my magic! There had been Zoanthropes in that swarm.
Tap-dancing ROB, I had known the Hive was both powerful and smart, but to figure out my extra-universal magic? And so quickly!
Just then the Forge secured another mote. It was called DNA lock and came from... Lilo and Stitch? Seriously? It was the part of the guns that locked onto a creature's DNA.
Seemingly useless, but it was long-range DNA scanning technology, just as I was being attacked by Tyranids. The Forge did have a sense of humor sometimes. I wasn't quite sure what to do with that right now, but having scans of Tyranids at the genetic level may prove useful somehow. But that would likely need time, which I, once again, did not have!
I mean, for the moment I was safe, but how long would that last? The swarm would seek me.
Already the Noosphere was filling with panicked reports of attacks within the Hive.
What to do? I could play keep away, risk the swarm killing millions or more and maybe even growing in the process.
I could flee entirely, using the Hoplite.
Or I could fight. Isolate the Synapse creatures and whittle down the swarm, one by one. But I couldn't do it alone... which may provide an opportunity.
I appeared behind a defensive line of my own Decoys. Mortarion was zipping around in the air, Scythe ripping apart monsters, necrotic powers withering away those he only glanced at. Maybe his diseases and toxins were doing something too; I couldn't tell since the swarm died too quickly.
"Mortarion!" I called, when a lull in bioforms happened, local reserves apparently depleted. "Mortarion!"
He turned to me. "The real one then," and promptly rushed me, scythe raised high.
"Whoa! Time out! Truce!" I hastily formed a T with my arms. "I am calling a time out!" The monster-moth stopped in the air.
"Listen, both of us don't want the 'Nids to get me, right? So I am calling a truce until they are dealt with, yeah? You and me against the swarm."
Mortarion didn't even think about it. He merely nodded. "Truce."
Chittering screams echoed from another opening in the room, and another swarm rushed in. Gaunts, Warriors, Zoanthropes, Lictors, Gargoyles, and others I couldn't place immediately.
I instantly collected and sent a ball of searing flame at them, which exploded in their midst, scattering them and setting their volatile chemicals on fire. Hey, I did not ask how small the room is; I said I cast fireball.
Then Mortarion raised his hand and green... something dripped down from nowhere, hitting the bioforms and making them dissolve as they screeched horribly.
"Disgusting things," I grimaced.
An update reached my implant, from Briareus. "What the fuck!"
Mortarion turned to me questioningly.
"The Tyranids have fucking stealth ships!" I stared angrily upwards. "How did those get past the cordon? What are those idiots doing up there?"
"Prepare to fire," Abaddon ordered calmly. Well, as calm as he got, anyway.
He had kept the Armageddon Gun charged ever since the void battle began. That was dangerous; the Weapon core was volatile, but they were way past those concerns. A whole battalion of sorcerers were standing by, manipulating probability, assisted by Tzeentch himself to ensure the core would not go off half-baked. Now the preparation was paying off.
Less than an hour ago, the Tyranids had abruptly stopped playing dead and reengaged as a coherent, deadly force.
From what their scouts were telling, someone on the planet had noticed something suspicious, fired into the air, and discovered a cloaked Tyranid ship hovering over Hive Sylaxis.
A cloaked Tyranid bioship.
Apparently, the fucking bugs had stealth ships no one had known about. Though it explained a great deal, looking back. It was just another nasty surprise in this entire shitstorm of a day. Nay, week.
Well, his ship would at least eliminate one problem today.
"Armageddon Gun ready."
"Target acquired. Blessed equations calculate with demonic support."
"Secondary sacrifices prepared."
Abaddon nodded. "Fire!"
The ship did not rock; it sang with the backlash of the gun, the warp energies filling Abaddon with a pleasant, feverish heat as the bridge, and indeed the entire ship, swam with unreality for a moment.
From the prow, a vast beam, colored Empyrean Purple, shot forward, effortlessly punching through several ships and overwhelming the target shields.
The Ork War-Hulk detonated into a plasma fireball, as bright as a star. For a moment, the system had two suns.
With the moon died tens of thousands of Tyranid bioships that had clustered around it, as the biggest, most obvious threat to them.
Even before they "regained their sanity," the bugs had overwhelmed the defenders and were busy killing and devouring the Orks while still playing feral.
Now, with the need to play dead gone, they had overwhelmed the remaining defenders within minutes, rendering the War Hulk moot as an asset.
Its pieces served as useful shrapnel as even more Nid ships were shredded.
That only left ten thousand or so, despite the continuous long-range bombardment they had been subjected to. But that wouldn't be his problem any longer.
"Recharge the Weapon. Target Curranthum."
"But..."
"With the Primarchs potentially tying the Smith down, there is a chance he won't react fast enough."
"And... the Primarchs?"
"Expendable." Now, don't take him wrong. Abaddon would gladly kill any of his pompous 'uncles' any day of the week and call it a deed well done, but in this case, he was entirely truthful. Compared to securing or at least neutralizing the Smith, all other priorities were suspended.
"Time to recharge, twenty-six minutes. Time to target range, forty-six minutes."
Abaddon nodded, satisfied. These numbers meant they were burning out the projection barrels as well as sublight engines, but again... it did not matter. If they succeeded, the ship could be repaired; if they didn't succeed... well, then the ship did not matter anymore either.
Suddenly, alarms were blaring. "Webway portal opening starbo... holy shit!"
Abaddon was a Chaos Astartes, and as such, was fast enough to whip around and stare outside the massive bridge windows.
Just in time to see their doom coming.
The oversized webway portal that had opened close to the Planet Killer spat out a singular object.
Multiple kilometers high.
Twenty-six kilometers long.
As Abaddon looked to the side, he saw a gargantuan prow, a literally mountain-sized mass of blue and gold rushing towards him. He instantly sprinted off the bridge.
The Macragge's Honor's overlapping void shields hit the Planet Killer's void shield bubble. Both spheres flashed in multicolored light, the Honor slowing down as the Killer veered to the side as kinetic energies were transmitted.
Then the smaller ship's shields faltered, and the gigantic prow impacted, biting deep into its side.
The Killer's entire right side crumbled under the impact, two gun barrels snapping as kilometer-sized pieces of debris were flung into the void.
And then the Macragge's Honor opened fire.
On the Gloriana's bridge, Roboute Guilliman sat in the command throne, watching over the destruction with satisfaction.
Beside him, the Lady Yvraine stood, petting her Gyrinx, Alorynis. "See? I told you waiting a few moments with the emergence would pay off."
"Indeed," Guilliman noted in satisfaction as he watched the expanding cloud of Ork Hulk, Khornites, and tens of thousands of Tyranid ships.
Besides the Macragge, more ships were falling out of the webway. An armada of Imperial ships as well as Craftworld vessels, which immediately blurred with their holoscreens. Even a couple of Drukhari Corsairs had joined them on the way and were, reluctantly, accepted.
Guilliman took in the disposition of forces within the system via his implants and grimaced.
The Tyranids were not in good shape, but they had flung forward faster units (literally, other ships had sacrificed themselves for a gravity boost), and now chaos reigned among the defenders.
The remaining guard elements above Curranthum had at least reacted swiftly and were bombarding the Tyranid Hive ships from orbit, targeting them apart.
But at least three vessels had managed to sneak in, and each had rained down troops that had subverted the Hive shields and were now inside, wreaking havoc.
Guilliman gave a silent command, and immediately the prepared assault shuttles launched from across the fleet, escorted by their fastest craft. Even so, it would take quite a while before they reached the ground.
Until then, Guilliman had another task. The Hive fleet still posed a threat, and the defenders, without a single unifying command, were helpless.
"The fleets are in chaos," Yvraine grimaced.
"I may have an idea about that," Guilliman said, eyes glinting.
"Belisarius, can you wire my brain directly into the battlegrid?"
Cawl's axe thumped on the floor as he stood tall, free hand raised high. "I can wire anything directly into anything! I am Cawl/Toasterdaddy!"
Guilliman leaned back with a rakish grin. "Excellent. Then prepare to see a bureaucrat's brain in action."
Down on the planet, Mortarion and I were fighting off ever-increasing hordes of Tyranid monsters.
Since they were all linked, as soon as one group had found me, they all knew.
They were still fighting other units, but mostly as a holding action to prevent reinforcements from reaching us.
Meanwhile, we were trying the largest force, always careful to stay away from organic people. That meant that Mortarion and I were busy being constantly on the move to avoid being swamped.
I didn't apparate much anymore, only short distances to avoid attack. I also had no intention of apparating Mortarion with me.
I had no idea what his Patron would be able to grasp from my magic openly interacting with his like that, and I had no intention to risk it. Instead, we flew.
That was also risky. Like me, Mortarion used magic to fly, since like with Sanguinius, his wings weren't nearly big enough to actually carry him. And I had a nasty suspicion the Nids were tracking our 'magic signature' to home in on us, similar to Magnus.
That meant a constant aerial battle as we avoided Gargoyles and other flyers while receiving a constant 'flak barrage' from the ground units.
Thankfully, the Hive interior was twisted and broken enough that we could frequently fly into cover.
Whenever we fled a larger group, I dropped Dust or mass-produced battle automata in their wake.
It worked fairly well, to be honest. The automata were mostly immune to the spores and poisons, and their bodies offered no sustenance the Nids could feed on.
Their own weapons, especially the grav hammers, reaped a massive toll, tearing the smaller forms to shreds and incapacitating the larger ones.
My magic was still mostly effective. I could rain a literally endless hail of ammunition down on them, and if all else failed, I swallowed every pinned-down unit in unstable universes to collapse them into nothingness.
As for Mortarion... well, he was a Primarch.
"I can't tell, do your diseases and stuff actually work on them?" I yelled to him as we banked for another attack run.
"Somewhat. They are extremely resilient, but the Grandfather's gifts are supernatural in nature. And decay..." He swung an arc of green light that dissolved a group of Gaunts "...always works."
"Almost always," I corrected, but he did not answer.
Just then I got another Perk. Called Virtuoso, it came from the World of Darkness again. And it made me... a virtuoso.
Any form of art, be it painting, sculpting, music, or dance, would now allow me to express my emotions in an enticing, compelling manner.
Great. An incredibly powerful effect if I was just beginning, trying to leave my mark on Imperial society, but here and now? What was I supposed to do? Sing a Bug lullaby?
Besides, Marian glyph allowed me to express myself already perfectly.
Sadly, that did not mean everyone would be *convinced of what I said. Or maybe that was a feature. I already had too much power for any one baseline human.
I blinked and digested the information, but the distraction had almost been enough. A Gargoyle was shooting straight for me before an almost casual swing of Silence cut it into pieces. I swung my staff, and a dozen or so creatures were crushed. "This is dumb," I growled. "We can kill them for days, and they will just keep coming."
Channeling ambient power through my staff and ring helped keep the exertion down, but it wasn't zero, and the swarm showed no sign of abating. Hissing and growling showed another group was already on its way. I narrowed my eyes behind my helmet. "The fact they aren't coming all at once..."
"Obviously means they are herding us," Mortarion interrupted, sounding bored. "They are attempting to bring in bigger units to kill us."
I considered the options. I wasn't so sure the Nids weren't still trying to assimilate me. Killing me was only the second-best option, after all. So the herding was probably more meant to get me in range of a genestealer. Blergh. No thanks.
Any bigger units would likely be more meant for Morty here.
"I think they will try to take you out first," I told the Primarch as I sent forth lightning that annihilated another group of flyers.
"Yes," he agreed. "They know they need to take me out first. Without me, you would already have fallen to them."
"And without me, you would continue to mope, feeling sorry for yourself until Nurgle tires of you."
Mortarion did not answer, but visibly twitched in flight, and I allowed myself a smug little grin.
"You think we can use that to ambush them? Bait them into a trap?" I asked.
"We will move towards the Hive's edge. The larger creatures will have more trouble infiltrating. From the direction they attempted to herd us, it is obvious where these larger creatures are. But even then, there will be many Synapse creatures."
"Well, the fleet is doing a good job of taking out the stealth ships, at least." Through my implants, I was watching transmissions of the orbital bombardment.
The giant ships had stubbornly held position as more and more troops, likely freshly produced onboard, had been dropped and shielded the ground troops with their bodies. They paid for that with their lives.
The first one had already lost altitude control and went careening into the Hive's shields. Flickering and sparking, the force field diverted the ship's body, which crumbled and collapsed to slide down to the ground outside, kicking up a massive dust cloud.
More troops were streaming out from the corpse, but they were having a much worse time than the ones that got into the Hive. Curranthum had never been a life-carrying world, and the outside had been additionally polluted over the millennia with toxic dust and gases.
The ground level was one thick continuous toxic mist. All attackers and defenders used environmentally sealed suits when outside, but the Tyranids did not have that luxury.
They were ridiculously resilient towards poisons, heavy metals, and so on, but ultimately, even they had their limits. At the very least, they would be unable to replenish themselves from this dead world.
"But you are right," I told Mortarion. "Taking out the larger Synapse creatures is useful, but could take ages as well. And who knows what other surprises the Hive has kept for a rainy day. No, I am planning to draw one close in a controlled manner. And then I will deal with them."
"...I do not suppose you will share what it is you are planning to do?"
"Ha. Nope. Suffice to say, it has to do with my powers." I briefly considered if teaming up with Marcus or even Perturabo would make sense here. But no.
Having Mortarion around was bad enough, but at least he seemed barely motivated to harm me. The contact with the glowstone powder had robbed him of much of Nurgle's influence and what was left seemed to be mostly... well, depression.
But Magnus was experienced, smart and had his own plans and the last time Perturabo and I talked, he blew up a Hive defense wall soooo... no chance.
Just then the Forge missed another connection. Hm. New powers would have been nice, but the last ones hadn't exactly been game-changers, so I wasn't too torn up about it.
Time to set up our plan and hope the fleet managed to keep them far away so that the bioships could not just take over as Synapse creatures for the lost ones on the ground...
High above them, the Fleet was actually doing rather well. With Guilliman's brain linked into the battle computers via his own Black Carapace equivalent, the situation had changed.
Where before there had been chaos, dozens of disparate fleet elements doing their own thing, there now was beautiful, complex harmony.
Ships of various races corkscrewed through space, banking sharply or serenely floating by, seemingly without rhyme or reason, only to suddenly all fire at the same vessel in perfect synchronicity.
Hundreds of ships abruptly came together to fly in geometrically perfect formation for several salvos, only to suddenly fall apart again to evade enemy attacks.
Imperials, Traitors, Drukhari, Asuryani, and Necrons had linked up bit by bit as they had seen Guilliman's effectiveness. All animosity temporarily suspended, united by the desire to kill bugs and to not have the Celestial Smith become a genestealer puppet.
Hell, even the remaining Orks had joined in. In their transmission, the Ork Admiral had had his hands folded, crying and mumbling something about "De booty of dakka 'n motion." No one had touched that with a ten-meter pole and just accepted the extra vessels.
Now, the united fleets were being directed by perhaps the biggest bureaucratic brain in the galaxy, filling ships into formation, directing shots with meticulous precision and handing the Tyranids their butts in triplicate.
That being said, the Tyranids were hardly helpless. With the need to play dead obsolete, the remaining ships showed the full brilliance of the Hive Mind. Traps were countered with traps, feints with flanking, raw firepower with clouds of smaller vessels.
Guilliman was winning, but it was hardly easy, and for all his brilliance, the fleet had mostly dealt with the vanguard elements so far, preventing them from breaking through to the planet. The heavier fleet elements were still coming.
The situation looked better than it had before. But nothing was decided yet.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Yes," was the curt response. Was I imagining it, or was Mortarion sounding more... human? That really unhealthy wet rasp in his voice seemed to recede, at least.
We had proceeded ahead of the swarms, but closer to the edge, as if attempting to link up with the armies outside the Hive. I had used magic less and less, feigning exhaustion.
Now I was inside my own hypersphere, while a decoy radiating my signature proceeded on foot with my elven cloak, which in turn fudged the signal.
Taken altogether, it had to look like I was in trouble and we needed reinforcement, with Mortarion staying behind to buy me time. Coincidentally in a space we judged that larger creatures could have reached already. Well, Mortarion said they would be coming, and I trusted his Primarch brain.
We didn't have to wait long.
The first fast movers came swarming in, rushing straight for Mortarion.
But this time, as he cut them down, the next group was already moving in. No more wave attacks. The Nids were going all in.
I watched it over my implants with worry. The Primarch was handling himself effortlessly, but this time, there would be no flying retreat, no falling back to a better position.
For this to work, Mortarion had to stand his ground.
I had no intention of letting him die, but revealing myself would mean our gambit failed, and we would have to do this the hard and time-consuming way, and Magnus was breathing down my neck.
It took long minutes of waiting. Nervously, I observed that instead of rushing him directly, many Nids were encircling Mortarion, holding back and waiting. All meant to prevent his escape.
Then I heard it. It was too far away for my e-nav to pick up, but several remote constructs picked it up and transmitted it. A low growling noise. Followed by the explosion of the far wall. A host of Tyranids rushed through, three massive forms in the lead.
An Exocrine, which had shot apart the wall, a Maleceptor, clearly meant to combat our magics, and a Tyrant Guard, moving to shield the other two.
A host of more elite units swarmed by their sides.
Mortarion reacted immediately. A swing of his scythe, and I felt the Warp ring with misguided, wet tones.
Necrotic green energy hit the swarm head-on, dissolving many creatures outright and injuring others as their flesh simply rotted away.
More impactful were the numerous portals that opened in mid-air, spewing forth clouds of both noxious gases and supernatural diseases.
The Tyranids were extremely resilient to either, normally, but this was Nurgle's power itself. I saw hosts of Gaunts just keel over as all manner of nasty growths and injuries appeared on them from nowhere.
Even the three gargantuan units flinched as if running against a wall.
But the Maleceptor flared with power, and soon the swarm advanced again, though strongly diminished. It was an impressive display of power from both sides; I could feel the Warp echo and ring with power, but I knew Mortarion couldn't do this often. His reserves, in part due to my Glowstone powder, were limited.
Mortarion banked in the air, but instead of evading or seeking cover behind one of the tall structures in the room, he instead dove towards the enemy swarm, his scythe stretched out in front of him.
He impacted and an actual wave of monsters was tossed up in front of him, shielding him, as his sickness spread to the sides and infected the Nids he was passing.
He curved to the side as the Exocrine tried to track him and the Guard slashed with its arms.
They were massive and strong, but compared to the speed of a Primarch, they were lacking. Abruptly, Mortarion jinked and his scythe clipped the Guard, leaving a rent in its carapace armor.
Then the Maleceptor acted. Psionic power flared as the mental chittering of the swarm reached a fever pitch. Lightning-like, blue-white tendrils of power raced out and Mortarion was caught!
The strategy of the Hive was revealed. The Maleceptor to immobilize, the Exocrine to destroy, the Guard to protect and act as backup.
Several flyers now swarmed the Primarch to harass and help restrain him. They would be destroyed by the Exocrine's own shot, but why would the Hive care? It had reserves.
They scrambled, screeched, and clawed, and I could not tell if they were hurting Mortarion or being kept at bay by his armor. I tensed, unable to tell if I had to intervene or not.
I needn't have worried.
I felt the unclean power of the Primarch flex and like with my own spell, the power of the Maleceptor corroded away, no matter how nonsensical that was.
Next, the cloud of flyers around Mortarion was intersected by a series of blinding-fast cuts, looking like a cloud of strikes in mid-air. For a moment, their frozen bodies hung suspended, then fell to the ground in pieces and Mortarion emerged, seemingly unbothered.
The Exocrine had moved into position, the barrel on its back already lighting up when Lantern, Mortarion's sidearm, spit fire. The shot flew precisely into the gun-creature's gaping maw and interacted with the building bio-plasma inside.
The Exocrine shrieked as an explosion ripped sideways through the weapon-symbiont on its back, a series of smaller follow-up explosions making the creature stagger.
I shivered a little. I was very glad I hadn't tried fighting any of them on even footing. Angron had been easily led and against Fulgrim, I had had help. Hubris was still a trap for me. A good lesson to remember.
Mortarion dove towards the Guard next, all but ignoring any shot coming his way. "Which one do you want?" He asked me casually over vox. Bastard didn't even sound out of breath.
Ha, well, I mean, no more than usual.
"The Maleceptor, please. If you could stagger it for a moment or even knock it out, that would be great."
He did not answer but instead continued his assault on the Guard, occasional swings from his scythe keeping small fry away.
The Maleceptor, meanwhile, was blasting him from afar, using powerful attacks that forced Mortarion to divert attention and energy to corrode the psionic power away.
The Guard, despite its size, was fast, claws snapping and whistling through the air, but Mortarion kept up easily or blocked attacks and used their momentum.
Then suddenly, things got hectic, too fast for me to follow and a green bow of power rushed towards the Maleceptor, severing one of its legs.
It screeched but compensated easily, yellow blood gushing for a second before cutting off abruptly. The Exocrine was suddenly there, swinging its injured weapon mount in a clumsy attack, but the Primarch ducked and spun upwards, rushing towards the ceiling, tanking any stray shots.
"Get ready."
I hastily dropped a Minecraft potion from my inventory and downed it, the action seemingly slowing down to more sane speeds as I was sped up twenty percent.
Mortarion reached the ceiling, inverted to crouch and 'jumped' downward, blurring through the air as he brought the heft of his scythe to bear and impacted the Maleceptor's top.
The giant creature was visibly pushed down, and a sort of collective flinch went through the swarm, several creatures stumbling as if in sympathetic dizziness... and I had my opening.
I rushed out of the sphere and apparated, appearing right next to the stunned monster. "Immobilus!" The Maleceptor slowed.
I hastily drew a glyph into mid-air, then slammed my staff through it and into the exposed neural tissue at the monster's side, ignoring the disgustingly wet squelching noise.
"Imperio!"
Now, hear me out. Going toe to toe with the Hive was a...suboptimal idea, I get that. Was it reckless? Yes. Could it work? Yes. Were there better ways? Hell yes, but they all took time.
And there were mitigating options.
For one, all truly giant synapse creatures nearby had been killed.
No bioships, stealth-ed or otherwise, close by. People had checked by saturating Curranthum air and orbit space with weapons fire.
The ground forces' Hive connection was tenuous, a fact I could confirm by listening to the static in the Warp.
The sigil I had drawn in the air would also act as a sort of proxy server, designed to shield me as much as possible from the Tyranids' power. Furthermore, I was not trying to take over the Hive, merely the one, lone creature in front of me.
All in all, excellent conditions.
I nearly died.
If the proxy hadn't been there, if the power hadn't been channeled through my staff, if Logos hadn't flared on my finger to protect me, I would have died.
As it was, I screamed my pain into the Warp as the Maleceptor twitched and spasmed.
It felt like trying to scream over a chorus. No, like trying to take over the melody, like dictating it using my own, lone instrument. But it worked.
I wove my own tune, my own leading notes. The Maleceptor and the other creatures barely had any voice of their own. They were made to follow someone else. It just wasn't usually an outsider. What I did was supposed to be impossible.
But I was the motherfucking Celestial Smith. Impossible was what I had been made for.
I lost the grip on my flight power and half-fell to the ground with a grunt. My surroundings spun. Sharp warning signals beeped in my HUD, and when I managed to focus on them, they informed me I was bleeding from nose, eyes, and ears.
How did that work, with a nano body? I asked myself fuzzily.
I downed a healing potion and felt the physical injuries healing.
Gradually, my body returned to normal, but my mind... my head was pulsing. I felt tired, mentally. Emotionally.
Mortarion landed nearby, staring at the now docile Maleceptor. "Did you just...? What did you do?"
I listened inward, hearing the many tones of Tyranid broods, scattered throughout the Hive. Less than I feared, more than I had hoped.
The feedback was beyond strange. My mind was not equipped to deal with their mental architecture. There were sensations, thoughts and feelings I just could not parse.
For one thing, at most they seemed to think of themselves in a vague, third-person-ish type of way? They were not even animals. Just abstract nodes in the Hive.
My Maleceptor had not been the only large-scale Synapse creature, but it had been fairly high up in the hierarchy, and since there was no real beginning or end for individual Nids... I felt a shit-eating grin spread on my face. "I think I just... acquired some pets."
"Are you beyond insane?" Mortarion hissed, rebreather working hard. "To go against the Hive Mind directly?! Not even the gods are that reckless!"
"Worked, didn't it?" I quipped, feeling giddy with relief and adrenaline crash.
"IT COULD HAVE ENSLAVED YOU! YOU COULD HAVE BECOME A PUPPET FOR THE HIVE!"
"Oh, and me enslaved would be bad?"
"YOU UNBEL...YES!"
"But a puppet of Nurgle would be better?"
With an inarticulate scream, Mortarion sliced apart a block of debris.
The Tyranids moved uneasily at the closeness of violence.
My staff was flaring with light. I was continuously pumping power into the Imperio. I would not be able to keep this up forever. My mana reserves weren't unlimited. But I would last long enough.
"He is inevitable," Mortarion murmured, more to himself.
"Oh, is he?" I couldn't help the sharpness in my voice. Morty's emo shtick was getting old. "So escaping him is impossible? Resisting him? What about taking over Tyranids? Isn't that impossible?"
The hooded head vaguely turned in my direction.
"And now look!" I waved my arm, and dozens of Nids copied the motion. Which was pretty fucking cool, to be honest.
"I am the Celestial Smith! I was designed to do the impossible, repair and fix the broken, restore what was considered lost! I CAN. FREE. YOU."
...
"How?"
A gesture summoned my hypersphere. Mortarion stared at it. "This object exists in many dimensions. It cuts off the Warp and creates a version clean and separate from the Four. Step in and all your chains will be severed. Simple as that. All it requires is a little bit of faith."
Silence twitched, Mortarion's hand tightening and loosening. "Hope... hope is a lie..."
I raised an eyebrow. "I mean... yeah? Duh? Obviously. Of course hope is a lie, just like money or borders or dreams or justice. The point of being human is kinda to pick the important lies... and try to make them come true."
He didn't say anything. "There is also another lie, Mortarion: despair. Giving up before you are truly at the end. I mean, look at me. Before I came along, was there any hope of resisting the Tyranids? Destroying a fleet, taking them over like I did? Am I not the best proof that despair, that hopelessness, is not true either? If someone like me can come along? And if both hope and despair are equally false... would you not rather choose hope?"
We stood quietly.
I feel I had said what I could, anymore might be pushing to hard. I crossed my fingers behind my back.
Mortarion straightened, wings folding in.
Without looking at me, he strode towards the Sphere, upright, proud.
A King to his execution.
He stepped inside and It closed behind him.
Unlike with the others, I heard no screams. Only silence.
Deep in the warp, the Grandfather slumped in his garden. Why? Why had his favored son rejected his love? The inhabitants of his garden were silent, frightened to attract his attention.
In her cage, Isha sat up, eyes glittering.
Author's Note: I wanted to do that Roboute as Hermes joke for AGES! And now it fit!
Bureaucrats, the deadliest creatures in the galaxy.
Mortarion insists hope is an illusion, but, well, that is pretty much true for everything. So why not choose a nicer illusion?
DNA Lock On (Lilo and Stitch) 100: You're tired of pesky law enforcement personnel sneaking into your lab. To combat this you have created DNA lock on technology, allowing your machines to target specific creatures, and only them. Of course, this will require collecting their DNA first. You have put this to good use with inventions like your door that only opens for you, and the auto-turret that will refuse to fire if you're standing in the way.
Virtuoso (World of Darkness - Demon the Fallen) 100: There is nothing sexier than an artist. Music, painting, singing, you are a veritable virtuoso when you put your mind and faith into your work. Your emotions flow into musical pieces in ways that incite that same emotion in those that hear it. Those that look upon your art understand the deeper meanings of it almost instinctually, but it might always feel as if there is something they just can't grasp about it, something more. In some way, they can feel your divine touch by just experiencing your art.
150 points secured
