Claytonimor
WE WILL TAKE JERUSALEM
- Location
- Loudon, TN
You act like they weren't already tearing their hair out.
His Will Be Done, A Warhammer40k/Kancolle Story
- Thread starter TheMadmanAndre
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Sydney,Australia
or even the heretical brand new thought machine saint
Nicholas
No longer teaching battlethings on a battleship
- Location
- Ashore again
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'd think she would actually be both. After all, Will said the Emperor Himself empowered her to serve once more. She's an Imperial Saint in machine form; a living Machine Spirit. If she has to be one or the other, the Mechanicus and the Ecclesiarchy are going to be at each other's throat over who gets to claim her.
Robo Jesus
Your Mechanical Messiah
"Shipgirls" also means the Imperial Navy is involved as well, because she is an Imperial battleship. :shrugs:
So three groups here who can end up at eachother's throats. Almost makes you feel sorry for the Inquisition here.
- Location
- Dual citizen of SV&SB
I'm now imagining a silly sequence of events..."Shipgirls" also means the Imperial Navy is involved as well, because she is an Imperial battleship. :shrugs:
So three groups here who can end up at eachother's throats. Almost makes you feel sorry for the Inquisition here.
The Inquisitor comes running up to the ship girl, stops to try to declare her a heretic. As he stops, get gets run over by the ecclesiarchy representative, who is trying to declare her a saint. As the Inquisitor tries to stand back up, he get run over again by the admiral, trying to claim her as part of his fleet. He tries to stand up, he gets run over a final time by a magos riding a knight Titan who came prepared for the squabble.
Inquisitor Headsmash: "You know, they're all just running around killing each other down there? Better just go ahead and lay the Exterminatus upon these HereticsALRIGHT FIRE!" *headbutts Exterminatus Button*
Part 6
Well, this took entirely too long...
----====][====----
"So the Emperor's Will then?" Admiral von Saeger spoke. "It explains today about as well as anything else would, I suppose."
"Indeed," the Lord Admiral added, before continuing. "In regards to your encounter with the Despoiler, I don't suppose you at least have physical proof of your battle with him, beyond your word?"
Will was silent for a moment, contemplating his words. "I have his sword and his gauntlet-thing," she blurted out. "B-but I have them under guard."
Both of the men were visibly surprised. Both blinked once. "On your person? Right now?"
"Umm, well, it's on the deck of my Hangar Bay, so… sort of inside me I suppose?" It felt awkward to say. She was still having trouble trying to figure out where the ship ended and the person began. And there was a lot of ship. Many, many millions of tons of it. It was something she was going to have to keep working on. "But…"
"But?"
"I also have a pict-recording of the battle."
The Lord Admiral was visibly surprised, leaning forward in his seat in interest. "Really?"
"Yes, my Lord Admiral. Although not me specifically. Well… err…" She was tripping over her words now. How utterly undignified. "One of my Boarding Party Fairies recorded the battle."
Another long silence. "Your Boarding... Party… what?"
"I-" Before Will had the chance to try and explain, she felt something trying to push itself out of the folds of her Admiral-issued waistcoat. She looked down, and briefly puzzled by the sight of a bulge trying to navigate its way out of her chest. Will deftly unbuttoned the coat's outer layer and the mystery creature was suddenly freed, and something small and red popped out of her coat and - almost instinctively - she caught it.
"Hey!" the tiny creature spoke, its voice tinged with an electronic buzz. Will recognized it instantly as one of her Techpriest Fairies, the tiny little lady briefly leaned down to dust herself off, before craning her head up to look at Will with her featureless oversized eyes. "Hey!" she spoke again, gesturing towards her with her staff before reaching into her robe with her free hand and pulling out a small object. Will recognized it as a data ark, one of many used by her crew and Techpriests for storing and transporting data, albeit comparatively just as tiny.
"You have a copy of the recording my Boarding Party Fairies made?" Will asked it.
"Hey!"
"Can we see it?" She gestured towards the others at the table.
"Hey!" The Fairy hopped out of her hand and began strolling towards the very center of the table, almost leisurely. As leisurely as a centimeters-tall Fairy could at least.
As she refastened her coat Will looked up, following her Fairy's overall direction and recognizing a circular glass disc for what was likely the lens of an impressive holo-projector inset into the table. "She can show us a video of the battle I fought with the Despoiler," Will looked over, speaking once more to Admiral Quarren with a small smile. "So it should erase any doubts that… umm, Admiral?"
Her Admiral's jaw hung open, eyes wide at the Fairy briskly pattering across the table. The Vice Admiral was no better, jaw just as low and his eyes bulging out as his head tracked her movement. Will perceived his hand twitching for the ornate laspistol at his side, ceremony and circumstance likely the only things keeping him in check. "Admiral?"
He looked away from the Fairy to Will.
Back to the Fairy on the table.
Back to Will.
"Wh- bwhaa." was all he somehow managed to choke out.
"She's one of my Fairies. They're, well... sort of my crew, I think," she tried to explain.
"Sort of," von Saeger deadpanned, breaking his laser-lock gaze of the Fairy to look at Will.
Will nodded. "I don't have any people inside of me, which seems a little odd thinking about it. The Fairies sort of, well, fill in for the roles my crew had before…" she trailed off. She still didn't want to think about that now. Fortunately, before she had the opportunity to dwell on history the Techpriest Fairy reached her destination. Standing before the comparatively massive holo-projector lens before her with the data ark in hand, the Fairy raised her cog staff and brought the head down onto the lens with a loudly-audible tap.
The projector abruptly sprang to life, a great wireframe grid of light filled the space above the table before resolving into the beginning of a pict-recording. Will saw herself, standing proud and radiant on the smouldering ruined Bridge of the Planet Killer, challenging The Despoiler to a duel to end all duels, cutlass drawn and aimed at the arch-Traitor before charging him. She - they - continued to watch the recording as she fought and dueled him, smack-talking him even, before laying him low. The recording continued, showing her brief conversation with The Despoiler before he finally winked out of existence and teleported away to safety. The last image before the recording ended was of Will, standing proud and triumphant before the image faded and the projector powered down.
It had felt a lot longer in person, Will realized. Her hand once more went to the nick on her neck, or at least where it used to be - it had already completely healed, courtesy of her Damage Control Fairies. She wondered if maybe he had been on one of the fleeing warships she had effortlessly destroyed as they retreated. Her ponderings were interrupted as she felt a tugging on her coat cuff - the Techpriest Fairy, squirming into the gap between her coat sleeve and skin and disappearing inside. Thanks little lady, she thought.
"Hey!" was the immediate response from somewhere inside of her, one of her many access airlocks.
"So, that was a… a thing that I just witnessed." Admiral Quarren seemed troubled. "I… I really am at a loss for words at all of this. It has been a tumultuous few days, and I think we should all retire for the evening. I also still need to figure out what to tell Segmentum Command." His hand massaged his temples, fingers of the other drumming on the table.
Von Saeger said nothing in reply, merely nodding at the Lord Admiral's words.
"I, I would be grateful my Admiral," Will spoke. "Umm, I… I also think I need a bath."
"Y- Yes, you've earned that, I imagine." he tapped the glowing button on the console before him and powered off the holo-projector, before tapping another to its left and summoning the Security entourage still stationed outside. They marched in, stopping at the far end of the table and the ranking officer among them crisply saluted the Lord Admiral. "Lieutenant, please have some of your men escort Miss Will here to the Legacy's Noble's Quarters." Turning back to Will he continued, "I will arrange for an officer to escort you to the Bridge tomorrow morning at nine-hundred sharp, so we may... further discuss what to do from here on out. You are dismissed."
Will nodded and rose from her seat at the conference table, before bowing deeply to Admiral Quarren. She then walked back out through the great double doors, several of the Security Personnel escorting her to their destination. The doors to the chamber closed behind her and she mused that The Lord Admiral and Vice Admiral likely still had things to discuss, probably about her.
No matter, she had a bath to look forward to.
----====][====----
Only after their security detail returned to their posts outside the conference chamber and had closed the double doors behind them did the Lord Admiral finally speak. "Vice Admiral, your thoughts?"
Von Saeger had grown uncharacteristically silent during their briefing with His Will. Normally, he was a fair bit… confrontational, willing to engage in a war of words or even a duel with those he saw as potential opponents or rivals at the drop of a hat. Much as his initial conduct with His Will- Will, had demonstrated. Admiral Quarren usually didn't mind, as a degree of aggression was necessary for a captain of a Battleship. And for the most part, von Saeger usually kept himself in check. But for much of the briefing, especially after the recording and the… the Fairy that showed them it? Silence.
The Legacy's Captain drew a long ragged breath before speaking, a hand massaging his temple. "Well Sir, I have begun to suspect that I have in fact died sometime in the last several hours," von Saeger began. "That the Despoiler killed us in battle, and everything I have witnessed in those past hours were merely hallucinations on my part in the last few seconds of brain activity, perhaps as my corpse tumbles through the void of space." A beat before he continued. "Earlier today, I listened to a woman vox-broadcast to the entire system a childish argument with one of the most terrifying Arch-Traitors in the galaxy. Later I saw his ship explode because of that woman personally boarding it and blowing it up, and then afterward she flew into my own ship's Hangar Bay without a voidsuit. I just watched a… a tiny person, climb out of her cleavage, and then walk across a table to show us a video of her fighting and defeating the Despoiler himself, before she hacked off his frakking arms and gave him a haircut. Oh, and she claims to be a long-destroyed warship - not merely impersonating it but the actual ship, as if that would somehow explain any of it."
Quarren sighed and nodded. "Yes. It's a lot to take in, I agree."
"So if it's anything to you Milord, I would like to return to my quarters, uncork the oldest bottle of amasec I can find and try and make sense of today, if you would be so inclined as to let me."
"I…" Quarren started, initially wanting to disagree with the man for… some reason. Before the gears all clicked and fully processed what he had said. "Yes, that is a very good idea. Very good indeed." The Lord Admiral stood abruptly and began walking around the conference table towards the double doors, and then everything began to spin and turn right side up and he was acutely aware of someone - von Saeger - suddenly hugging - no, grabbing and catching him-
"Admiral!" Quarren heard the man exclaim as he narrowly caught him mid-fall before he could faceplant the deck and helped him back onto his own feet. Already the ceaselessly analytical part of his brain was concluding what had happened; that he had collapsed from exhaustion after having been awake for nearly five days, far beyond even what the Circadian-bionic in his brain and adrenal-stimm shots from the ship's Chiurgeon would normally let him go. That he was even still conscious at all…
"I… we…" he stammered, "The both of us could use a stiff drink I think," Quarren managed to stammer. "And sleep. Plenty of sleep."
"Yes, Lord Admiral, we do." back on his feet and steady for the moment and von Saeger right at his side, Quarren continued onward towards the double doors, his personal quarters his intended destination. He still had a lot to do - compose a report for Segmentum Command, arrange for resupply and repair requests for what was left of his fleet, find the bottle of M40-vintage he once received from the Lord Castellan of Cadia himself as a gift. Most of it he could delegate to a degree. But for now…
For now, he desperately needed to lie down.
----====][====----
Will walked through the corridors of the Savon's Legacy, with some degree of trepidation.
It felt… wrong, being inside of a battleship to her. She herself was a proud battleship, yet she was somehow inside of yet another battleship. She could recognize the halls and corridors she strode through, that were mirrored to a degree within herself - they shared a similar design and architecture, with the arched ceiling and gothic lamp-sconces. Despite being an Apocalypse-class and the Legacy being a Retribution-class, the layouts in some places were all-but-identical, especially in parts of the superstructure. Ultimately she tried to get her mind off of the subject entirely - it was something else related to her trying to separate the ship from the girl.
The small group of Security Personnel had led her wordlessly from the Conference Chambers, presumably towards whatever were the "best quarters available." Not quite the Lord Admiral or First Officer then - those quarters took up the entirety of the deck above them, if her own deck plan was anything to go by. So the previous quarters of one of the more junior officers then? No, 'Noble's Quarters' sounded more like her own former guest quarters, which also should have been on this deck.
No more ship-girl thinking. Bath first. Of course, she'd shaken the majority of the soot that had initially clung to her out of her hair and off of her outfit even before she even set foot aboard the Legacy, but a little tiny bit of it still coated her hull, flecks of it here and there. She could feel it seeping into the crooks and crevices along her hull, between her grand spires and her gun wells, making her feel just a tiny bit grimy.
Which, as she thought about it more and more, was strange - she hadn't needed a bath before now, in her long, long and storied career as an Imperial Battleship-of-the-Line. And that was even counting all the horrors that usually splattered themselves all over her Gellar Fields while she flew through the Warp-
Oh Emperor… she shook her head, banishing the thoughts of nightmarish entities from her mind. She really needed that bath now.
And on cue, the men leading her along stopped, having arrived at a pair of great double doors not unlike those of the Conference Chamber. "Your quarters, milady," the ranking officer-in-charge turned and spoke to her, as one of his fellows swung the doors outward. His speech was quite formal, in contrast to his combat fatigues and webbing and the meltagun in his hands. "My men shall post guard in the vestibule as per instructions from the Lord Admiral. Also, I will go ahead and send word to the ship's stewards that there is a guest assigned. If you need any refreshments, please let them know."
Will nodded and bowed slightly. "Thank you, Sergeant, umm…"
"Cantrell," The formerly nameless Sergeant spoke.
"Right. Thank you, Sergeant Cantrell. And if I need anything, I will inform you."
"Of course Milady," the Sergeant replied.
"It's His Will," Will smiled. "Or just Will, informally."
"Oh. Of course, Miss Will. Good night then."
Will continued onward through the next set of doors, closing them behind her and leaving the Sergeant to converse with his team. While it wasn't quite what one of her many previous Admirals would have considered 'palatial,' it was still fairly close. "Noble's Quarters indeed," Will spoke to nobody in particular. There was a main central room, containing an impressive set of extremely comfortable looking furniture surrounding a large coffee table. She could get lost in those seat cushions… She noted a smaller version of the holo-projector in the center of the table and a small control panel for operating it. Beyond and opposite the double doors on the other side of the room was what appeared to be a well-appointed office or study of some sort, judging by the large hardwood desk. To her left was a well-furnished dining room, no doubt for private dinners or ceremonies with a kitchen just beyond it. And to her right…
Were the bedchambers, and a luxurious and opulent bathroom beyond that. Will was in motion, her long legs already carrying her towards it. As she walked through the bedchambers and into the bath she began to disrobe, quickly stripping out of her uniform and undergarments and kicking off her boots, letting her skin feel the cool air on it for the first time in, well, ever.
There was not only a fully-enclosed shower with a toilet inside of it, but a bathtub so large it was practically a small swimming pool - something that Will would more than benefit from, what with standing head and shoulders over everyone else she had so far met. She only briefly puzzled over how to operate the large and ornate faucets - a Fairy on her Bridge calmly pointed out which one was for hot and cold water - and in no time at all the bathtub was filled with the former.
And in no time at all, she was shuddering in pleasure as the water washed over her skin, lapping at her hull like a sailing ship of ancient times. She found herself floating on the surface, much to her surprise - she would have expected herself to have sunk like the metaphorical plasteel rock she was. The heat from the water soaked into her skin, permeating through her corridors and passages much to her relief. She never knew something could feel this… incredible.
That was, until she was reminded by the same Fairy on her Bridge that she was forgetting the soap.
The soap! Will righted herself and half walked, half swam over to the faucets and towards what looked like a dispenser of some sort situated above them. Several fragrances were displayed, ranging from floral to the masculine. So many choices, she thought, before deciding to throw caution to the wind by pressing all of the buttons. Immediately several kinds of different soap began to dispense into the steaming water, the liquid transfusing into it before transforming into towering pillar of suds that spread out, quickly blanketing the steaming water.
They were like… clouds. Fluffy clouds of cleanliness. Or like navigating a field of asteroids, or a cluster of shipwrecked husks of a once-armada that she had personally destroyed. And no one else is here with me. Will all but squeed in delight, charging the pillars with a shout of glee and throwing herself bodily into the water with a great belly flop, the sprays of mist launched upward reaching the ceiling above.
When the stewardess that Sergeant Cantrell called upon finally arrived, twenty minutes after Will had entered her quarters, she was still playing gleefully in the soapy water.
----====][====----
Well, that's a wrap for now. Until next time.
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A ship will be a ship, even in the grim dark future of the 41st millennium.
Nice chapter, last scene was the best.
Nice chapter, last scene was the best.
Zedman7054
Eternally 3rd
- Location
- United States
Yes! The most glorious Heresy has returned!
Hell on Strikers
Tank Cat
- Location
- The Commonwealth
So she is the Living Saint equivalent in Battle Fleet Gothic then?
NO heresy here, the tech priest are always raving about Machine spirits, I guess they didn't think it literally.
NO heresy here, the tech priest are always raving about Machine spirits, I guess they didn't think it literally.
If you need a way for chaos to pose a threat to Imperium 40k shipgirls, the way to do it, besides giving Chaos their own shipgirls, is to use Daemonships.
There has been talk of Daemons in the warp possessing ships and then entering real space to cause havoc. The Chaos gods move to counter Kanmusu? make more daemon ships So Will for example could face supernatural weapons firing and hitting her, etc.
There has been talk of Daemons in the warp possessing ships and then entering real space to cause havoc. The Chaos gods move to counter Kanmusu? make more daemon ships So Will for example could face supernatural weapons firing and hitting her, etc.
If you need a way for chaos to pose a threat to Imperium 40k shipgirls, the way to do it, besides giving Chaos their own shipgirls, is to use Daemonships.
There has been talk of Daemons in the warp possessing ships and then entering real space to cause havoc. The Chaos gods move to counter Kanmusu? make more daemon ships So Will for example could face supernatural weapons firing and hitting her, etc.
Jesus Christ how horrifying.
I like this.
You could have it as the Gods making their moves cause the Emp is doing something active which has the capacity to fuck up a lot of Chaos schemes hence the countering. Living Saints in comparison can only be in 1 place at a time. Shipgirls can move across the galaxy and even better ensure the battle never reach the ground, destroying Chaos forces advantages or just annihilate Chaos ground forces with their point defense guns.Jesus Christ how horrifying.
I like this.
- Location
- Queensland, Australia
Hmmm.... If the 'Daemonships' are going to be the equivalent of Abyssals in this fic... Maybe having Daemonship!Girls as the equivalent of Abyssal Princesses? Basically, a Daemonship that has such a story/gains so much favour from it's god/you get the idea, that it ascends from just being a 'regular' old daemonship when destroyed to becoming the equivalent of a shipgirl, just using a Daemonship as the basis making it all eldritch and horrifying... And then you have all the chaotic gifts and blessings to make them stronger...
Hell, if you do have chaos Shipgirls... Then it would allow such 'fun' things as having the method by which they come back alter their connection to their Chaos God so that they can actually receive chaotic gifts and blessings as they do deeds and gain favour... Which would allow the absolutely horrifying phenomenon of any Daemonship!Girl that isn't killed quickly getting more and more dangerous because it keeps gaining new blessings and gifts from their 'patron'...
Hell, if you do have chaos Shipgirls... Then it would allow such 'fun' things as having the method by which they come back alter their connection to their Chaos God so that they can actually receive chaotic gifts and blessings as they do deeds and gain favour... Which would allow the absolutely horrifying phenomenon of any Daemonship!Girl that isn't killed quickly getting more and more dangerous because it keeps gaining new blessings and gifts from their 'patron'...
Omake: Weird as Frak, Part 2
~Celeste~
Vampire Catgirl Extraordinaire
- Pronouns
- She/They
New chapter? New omake!
Only when the mysterious woman left, jumping unassisted into the warp through another portal, did Pesc'an have time to reflect.
That presence… had felt familiar. Beneath the blinding aura of the emperor's protection was something else. Less powerful, perhaps, but no less important. A… harmony, a unity of purpose. A long lived foundation guiding parts into a greater whole…
His eyes widened in sudden realization. Of course it was familiar. While the mental shapes and hues of that feeling were a complete unknown to him, its structure wasn't. he had felt something similar before, many times in fact - Just not from a single person. Sometimes it was muted, like whenever a wraithship joined his fleet, other times it was clear as day, like when he was home and could feel the Infinity Circuits of his Craftworld.
The old eldar empire had gone through a period of decadence longer than the history of most civilizations, and so had its language, which meant that Pesc'an could spell out exactly what he thought about the situation, even if it caused his crew to physically recoil from him.
It didn't really make him feel better though.
"Chart a course for the nearest Webway portal," he ordered after a long suffering sigh, "we shall return to An-Iolsus posthaste. The Mon-Keigh emperor has read our book."
Because, really, I can't be the only one who has read the lore on eldar wraithships, ghostships and infinity circuits - to say nothing of Ynnead, and thought it sounded like the unnecessarily grimdark, 40k version of Kanmusu (Inb4 Craftworld kanmusu Ynnead).
Vad Pesc'an, veteran captain of the eldar light cruiser Eventide was well known in the An-Iolsus fleet for his tactical skill and cool under fire. He walked the Path of the Seer, after all, and he put his abilities to good use.
That's why, when he suddenly jumped out of his seat, ordering to stop and brace for impact, his crew obeyed without question.
In a just a few moments, the nimble vessel drifted to a halt in the void of space. Two seconds later, a warp portal opened just a few miles in front of the ship.
The crew soundlessly and efficiently assumed battle stations as Pesc'an took stock of the situation.
The use of warp meant no Necrons, and the portal wasn't too large, which meant he could safely rule out battleships or space hulks. That left cruisers and frigates, which he could deal with. After all, whatever his Aurora class light cruiser couldn't outgun, it could certainly outrun, and he had plans for dealing with everything from ork Roks to chaos raiders…
What he most decidedly didn't have plans for was a human woman rocketing out of the portal, tumbling around in space and stopping right in front of his ship.
For a single, awkward moment, nobody so much as blinked. Then the woman appeared to clear her throat, and the communication console signaled an incoming transmission.
That seemed to snap the cruiser's crew out of their trance, and they quickly leapt to action, pouring over sensors and weapon system – trying to make sense of the situation.
Pesc'an, for his part, simply gazed at the... being in front of him, now near enough he could see her waving her arms and moving her lips, as if speaking in the soundless void.
It looked human, certainly, with hair of bronze and what looked like the uniform and trappings of an imperial naval uniform, but even the most dim-witted ork knew that unaugmented, unarmored humans didn't just waltz through space carrying what looked like several tons of metal rigging with them. Then, obviously, there was the creature's warp presence – massive enough to be felt even by the less psionically gifted and carrying the unmistakable mark of the human emperor, but with a strangely familiar undertone he couldn't quite decypher.
One of the emperor's empowered emissaries, then, even if that didn't explain his feeling of deja-vu, nor why, according to the sensor crew, she had the energy signature of a cruiser.
Still, he couldn't stall forever. After a quick use of his Sight to check the immediate future, the eldar captain let the transmission through with the flick of a mental switch.
<<-ear me? I know you can use our radio, you pointy eared->>
"We can, in fact, hear you, Mon-Keigh," Pesc'an stopped her mid-sentence.
<<Took you long enough. I see eldar are as rude as always.>>
His eyes narrowed. "I could say likewise, but I have no memory of you."
<<Ha!>> the captain could feel smugness positively radiating from the woman, <<I see even warlocks can be surprised,>> she fell silent for a moment, and by now she had drifted so close to his ship that the captain could see the thoughtful expression on her face through his main viewscreen. <<I am Imperious,>> she said finally, <<and I seek the location of the 34th Gothic Reserve Fleet>> the woman added with a grimace, as if loathe to admit her ignorance, <<I know you keep track of it.>>
"Our name does not concern you, Mon-Keigh, and you give us no reason to help you," he replied curtly.
<<I see...>> Imperious trailed off with a frown, and for a moment Pesc'an hoped she could be fooled into divulging critical information.
Then she smiled, and brought her hands to what looked like gun holsters at her hips. Her energy readings spiked, the familiar feeling intensified, and his senses screamed danger.
<<Hey, hey, I got it!>> she exclaimed, voice sounding all too cheerful, <<how does 'not getting blasted into the next Segmentum' sound?>>
His crew looked at each other, then at him, first with disbelief, then with growing unease. A lone woman going against a ship was preposterous, and it would be terribly easy to call her bluff… and yet, should he do so, his Sight showed nothing but pain and regret.
If she was really as powerful as a cruiser… at point blank range and without the benefit of holofields…
He looked back at the eldar under his command. Was he willing to risk their lives for information, which, by definition, the Imperium already had?
There really was no choice at all.
That's why, when he suddenly jumped out of his seat, ordering to stop and brace for impact, his crew obeyed without question.
In a just a few moments, the nimble vessel drifted to a halt in the void of space. Two seconds later, a warp portal opened just a few miles in front of the ship.
The crew soundlessly and efficiently assumed battle stations as Pesc'an took stock of the situation.
The use of warp meant no Necrons, and the portal wasn't too large, which meant he could safely rule out battleships or space hulks. That left cruisers and frigates, which he could deal with. After all, whatever his Aurora class light cruiser couldn't outgun, it could certainly outrun, and he had plans for dealing with everything from ork Roks to chaos raiders…
What he most decidedly didn't have plans for was a human woman rocketing out of the portal, tumbling around in space and stopping right in front of his ship.
For a single, awkward moment, nobody so much as blinked. Then the woman appeared to clear her throat, and the communication console signaled an incoming transmission.
That seemed to snap the cruiser's crew out of their trance, and they quickly leapt to action, pouring over sensors and weapon system – trying to make sense of the situation.
Pesc'an, for his part, simply gazed at the... being in front of him, now near enough he could see her waving her arms and moving her lips, as if speaking in the soundless void.
It looked human, certainly, with hair of bronze and what looked like the uniform and trappings of an imperial naval uniform, but even the most dim-witted ork knew that unaugmented, unarmored humans didn't just waltz through space carrying what looked like several tons of metal rigging with them. Then, obviously, there was the creature's warp presence – massive enough to be felt even by the less psionically gifted and carrying the unmistakable mark of the human emperor, but with a strangely familiar undertone he couldn't quite decypher.
One of the emperor's empowered emissaries, then, even if that didn't explain his feeling of deja-vu, nor why, according to the sensor crew, she had the energy signature of a cruiser.
Still, he couldn't stall forever. After a quick use of his Sight to check the immediate future, the eldar captain let the transmission through with the flick of a mental switch.
<<-ear me? I know you can use our radio, you pointy eared->>
"We can, in fact, hear you, Mon-Keigh," Pesc'an stopped her mid-sentence.
<<Took you long enough. I see eldar are as rude as always.>>
His eyes narrowed. "I could say likewise, but I have no memory of you."
<<Ha!>> the captain could feel smugness positively radiating from the woman, <<I see even warlocks can be surprised,>> she fell silent for a moment, and by now she had drifted so close to his ship that the captain could see the thoughtful expression on her face through his main viewscreen. <<I am Imperious,>> she said finally, <<and I seek the location of the 34th Gothic Reserve Fleet>> the woman added with a grimace, as if loathe to admit her ignorance, <<I know you keep track of it.>>
"Our name does not concern you, Mon-Keigh, and you give us no reason to help you," he replied curtly.
<<I see...>> Imperious trailed off with a frown, and for a moment Pesc'an hoped she could be fooled into divulging critical information.
Then she smiled, and brought her hands to what looked like gun holsters at her hips. Her energy readings spiked, the familiar feeling intensified, and his senses screamed danger.
<<Hey, hey, I got it!>> she exclaimed, voice sounding all too cheerful, <<how does 'not getting blasted into the next Segmentum' sound?>>
His crew looked at each other, then at him, first with disbelief, then with growing unease. A lone woman going against a ship was preposterous, and it would be terribly easy to call her bluff… and yet, should he do so, his Sight showed nothing but pain and regret.
If she was really as powerful as a cruiser… at point blank range and without the benefit of holofields…
He looked back at the eldar under his command. Was he willing to risk their lives for information, which, by definition, the Imperium already had?
There really was no choice at all.
Only when the mysterious woman left, jumping unassisted into the warp through another portal, did Pesc'an have time to reflect.
That presence… had felt familiar. Beneath the blinding aura of the emperor's protection was something else. Less powerful, perhaps, but no less important. A… harmony, a unity of purpose. A long lived foundation guiding parts into a greater whole…
His eyes widened in sudden realization. Of course it was familiar. While the mental shapes and hues of that feeling were a complete unknown to him, its structure wasn't. he had felt something similar before, many times in fact - Just not from a single person. Sometimes it was muted, like whenever a wraithship joined his fleet, other times it was clear as day, like when he was home and could feel the Infinity Circuits of his Craftworld.
The old eldar empire had gone through a period of decadence longer than the history of most civilizations, and so had its language, which meant that Pesc'an could spell out exactly what he thought about the situation, even if it caused his crew to physically recoil from him.
It didn't really make him feel better though.
"Chart a course for the nearest Webway portal," he ordered after a long suffering sigh, "we shall return to An-Iolsus posthaste. The Mon-Keigh emperor has read our book."
Because, really, I can't be the only one who has read the lore on eldar wraithships, ghostships and infinity circuits - to say nothing of Ynnead, and thought it sounded like the unnecessarily grimdark, 40k version of Kanmusu (Inb4 Craftworld kanmusu Ynnead).
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TortugaGreen
Constantly out of the loop
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I did not, in fact, notice that, but now that you mention it, sort of. Also, why did she have to ask the eldar? I mean, she should be able to find the information by just asking the administratum... and waiting a few millennia, though it seems I answered my own question.
I think is was less forced to ask the Eldar and more "Hey they're here anyways, why not?"
~Celeste~
Vampire Catgirl Extraordinaire
- Pronouns
- She/They
Even if the Administratum was fast and efficient, somehow I don't think sending them an astropathic message along the lines of "Hi! I'm [ship previously lost], the warp kinda changed me, could you point me to the nearest imperial fleet?" would be the best idea...
This. It was literally the first ship Imperious met once out of the eye of terror.
obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
Just discovered this and while I could rage at the sorta-necro, oh boy, is this my favorite sort of heresy. Two fandoms I like as well as entertaining and well-written.
Also, am I wrong to think that of all Imperial Institutions, the Ecclesiarchy are going to be the ones who are totally and unanimously (or as close as you can get to unanimity for an Imperial Institution) okay with this situation? Venerated Imperial Vessels returning in the most Divine of Human Form to wage war against the enemies of man with undying loyalty to the God-Emperor, as well as His Imperium, and who state themselves they believe it to be due to the Emperor's will? That's pretty much textbook Emperor Miracle material as far as the Imperial Cult is concerned.
I pretty much figure that Chaos!shipgirls would take on the name "Abyssals" for the purpose of this fic.
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- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
Just found this, and after reading Belated Battleships, I needed more KanColle in my life. ^.^ Thank you!
Part 7
Well, time for another heady dose of HERESY!, Courtesy of Yours Truly. Load a cyanide bolt into your mags as a safety precaution, in case things get too heady and heavy.
"Unbecoming, so unbecoming," Will muttered as the Stewardess gently brushed her hair. It had been embarrassing, realizing she had had a… a spectator for a few moments back there. One moment she had been commanding an imaginary fleet, sending them to battle an equally imaginary fleet of heretics or maybe xenos amongst the sud drifts of the bath, before suddenly realizing that there was somebody watching her. It wouldn't have been too bad getting caught unawares acting as a child would. But she had been naked, her only coverings having been clusters of suds adhered to her hull- her skin, thankfully in strategic places. For now she was clothed in an elegant nightgown, somehow miraculously long enough to comfortably fit her.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Will," the Stewardess gently replied. "Everyone deserves a little stress relief from time to time." Will was kneeling on the bed, facing away as the stewardess tended to her hair from a seat pulled up to the bed.
"I… I got caught up in the moment is all," she blushed. Which was true, being it was her first bath in, well, ever. "It won't happen again."
"Well even if it does I won't say anything," the Stewardess smiled. She continued to brush Will's hair, the sensation sending tingles up and down Will's spine. "Miss Will, may I ask you something?"
"Sure, I suppose."
"May I ask how you treat your hair so well?"
Will blinked. "My… hair?"
"Yes." The brush continued to flow through her hair, the countless bristles parting the strands, like numerous boats sailing upon a golden sea. "I… have never seen nor felt such illustrious hair before. You've taken incredible care of it. May I… may I know what shampoos and conditioners you use?"
"I…" Will trailed off. She didn't have an answer to it. Once a century she had been dry docked, her countless systems tweaked and adjusted as needed by a legion of Enginseers and Techpriests. Her hull gone over with a fine-toothed comb, any cracks or unexpected damages quickly repaired, and past repairs reviewed in depth by cogitator and Magos alike, keen eyes looking for potential errors and shortcomings in past maintenance. Weapons and auguries were reconfigured as needed, her core cogiators purged of any corrupting code and placated with prayers and incense. A whole storage compartment within her had been given over and dedicated solely to her Rites and Records of Maintenance - an ever-increasing volume of parchment listing her ongoing state of well-being. But her hair?
She thought back earlier, to the numerous options to choose from in the bath. Soaps and shampoos and conditioners with archaic High Gothic names. Further still to distant impersonal memories, embarrassing memories of her few female officers bathing. Further still to her Admiral bathing and causing her to blush even more. "Well, I, umm... I use a bit of everything, and a bit more than I probably should," she stammered. "I'm also careful not to let it get damaged." Which was truthful to a degree - Neither Mr. Armless nor his garbage scow could do more than even scratch her, and the bath had cleaned her hair of the soot from said scow's fiery destruction to her satisfaction.
"A bit of everything? Interesting," she softly chuckled. "I'll admit I never thought to mix and match, so to speak." Apparently satisfied with detangling her golden strands, the Stewardess began to deftly and carefully re-braid her hair, hands well-practiced to the point where simple braiding was an art form. Will relished the feeling of her hands in her hair, of being cared for. Memories of being tended to by scores of men and Techpriests, fixing damage after fierce battles against heretics and xenos. The Stewardess was through all too quickly, carefully applying a single golden silk cuff to keep her hair in place. "I think I might try using several shampoos at once. Thank you, for the advice."
She rose from where she sat behind Will, and Will herself stood as well. She was keenly aware of how tall she was, standing next to the much shorter woman. She was about six feet, but next to Will who still managed to stand head and shoulders over her…
"Thank you," Will spoke after breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Umm, about my clothes…"
"Oh, your uniform?" The Stewardess spoke. "They are being laundered and cared for. Your weapons I believe are in the care of the honor guard in the foyer. The Sergeant stated he would guard them with his life."
Sergeant Cantrell. Right. "Oh, well that's good then. Thank you."
"It is my pleasure to serve, my Lady," she replied. "If you need anything, myself or one of the other stewardesses are just a call away."
"I… I will. Thank you, Miss…?"
"Alys," the Stewardess replied with a bow. "Good night, Miss Will."
"Good night," she spoke and with that Alys departed, leaving Will alone. Her chronometer had been updated in the interim at some point, matched with that of the Legacy. Which meant that she had about… eight hours or so, before she had to meet Admiral Quarrel once more. Which meant that she would likely need to be early, very early, and would need enough time to prepare herself in the morning…
She shrugged, and a Fairy on her Bridge helpfully set an alarm to sound a full hour and a half prior. Good enough, Will decided, and pulled away to covers of the massive bed before sinking into it, and she all but immediately passed out.
Meanwhile, within the halls and corridors of His Will…
The Captain Fairy blinked. It looked at the numerous officers standing around the Bridge. Its head pivoted, large empty eyes taking in the scene. It stood on the command podium, the large holo-projector behind it currently devoid of any useful information. Below the Captain, the various officers and crew stood by their posts, motionless and ready to accept their orders.
"Hey!" The Captain commanded after a moment's consideration, and the assembled crew sprang to action, taking their posts and seats, a quiet cacophony of 'Hey' filling the previously silent chamber with low-level noise.
"Hey." A voice spoke to the Captain's right. It turned, taking in the face of the newcomer. It wore the attire of a Commissar, one assigned to the ranks of the Navy. A peaked cap crowned its oversized head, and one of its hands rested on the bolt pistol on its hip. "Hey," The Commissar Fairy repeated.
"Hey," The Captain agreed. Touring the Ship and taking into account the state of the Ship's affairs would be a good idea. Leaving an Acting Captain in charge would be prudent, however. But the First Officer Fairy - normally the recipient of such a task - was nowhere to be found. Presumably it would turn up eventually. But in the meantime…
...There needed to be an Acting Captain. The Captain's empty eyes panned across the crew on the Bridge. They fell upon the perfect candidate, an Ensign Fairy of little to no notability. "Hey!"
The Ensign popped out of its seat, turning and saluting the Captain. "Hey."
"Hey!" the Captain gestured to the empty deck before it.
The Ensign sprang to action, quickly running up to the Captain and standing at attention before its superior. The Captain then reached up to its own head, lifting the ornate bicorne from its perch before placing it upon the Ensign's own head. "Hey," The Captain spoke.
The Acting Captain Fairy blinked, before curtly nodding. "Hey!" it then saluted, acknowledging its temporary assignment.
"Hey." Satisfied the Captain turned, walking to the nearest exit and towards the nearest Lift. The Commissar eyed the Acting Captain warily before following. "Hey?" it enquired.
"Hey," the Captain said. It was confident the hapless Ensign could step up to the task. Any Bridge Officer should be ready to do so if the need arose.
Standing before the nearest lift, waiting for the arcane device to arrive and then deliver it to its first destination, the Captain carefully considered where to go first. After a brief moment of deliberation, it decided on visiting the Enginarium. The lift arrived, and the gilded doors slid open, its new occupants stepping inside before being whisked away into the depths of the Ship.
A few minutes and a few winding corridors later the Captain and Commissar arrived, the former swinging open the great copper doors of the chamber. Above and before the Captain was merely one part of the Ship's vast primary plasma reactor. The meters-thick casing formed the entirety of one great wall of the chamber, the reactor far too large to be contained to a single compartment. It was the beating heart of the Ship, the burning star upon which all of the Ship's systems drew power.
The Magos Fairy was there, the one in charge of all of the maintenance for the Ship. It, as well as a number of other Techpriest Fairies stood around and gazed upon a central dais, upon which a truly massive book rested. It turned to face the Captain, eyes warily considering the interloper upon the sacred deck of the Omnissiah. "Hey," it eventually spoke, offering a raspy electronic greeting to its technical superior.
"Hey," the Captain replied. Its own eyes panned across the chamber, taking in all there was to see. "Hey?"
"Hey." The Magos gestured to the dais. "Hey."
"Hey," the Captain agreed. It strode over to the dais, to take a look at the massive tome. The book looked old, eons old, yet showed few if any signs of wear - no creases along its spine, nor fraying of its thick cover. "Hey?"
"Hey." The Magos pointed to the title.
The tome's title was a long one, several lines of High Gothic golden text embossed onto the thick leather hardcover, above the sacred symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus. 'The Assembled Engineering Manuals and Technical Schematics for Operation and Maintenance of Apocalypse-class Battleship, M30 Edition,' was what the title stated. Gently, the Captain took hold of the cover and opened the giant book much to the alarm of the Magos Fairy and other Techpriests, before turning to a random page near the front. It landed on a two-page spread of some sort of arcane device - an air-scrubbing machine, according to the title at the top of the page. It observed the pages, their crispness and lack of wear, all the while ignoring the Magos' protests before closing the book.
"Hey!" the Captain spoke after a long moment, turning to the Magos. "Hey!"
"Hey!" The Magos shouted in its defense.
"Hey?" the Captain spoke, and the room grew deathly silent. Even the beating reactor seemed to quiet, if only briefly. "Hey." the Captain then grabbed hold of the massive book, raising it above its hatless head before bringing the colossal tome down upon the Magos' augmented and hooded skull, sending it to the deck with a heavy thud.
*wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey."
The Magos lay face-down and twitching on the deck, its mostly-cybernetic face now molded to the deck of the Enginarium. The Techpriest huddled behind nearby maintenance consoles, now rightly terrified of the Captain. Even the Commissar was impressed. It had been trained to use its bolt pistol mainly to ensure both discipline and common sense - while messier, it nevertheless took less effort to make a point or statement.
And what a statement it was. A… cathartic statement, at that. The Captain placed the ancient tome back upon the sacred dais, the volume seemingly no worse for wear after its impromptu usage as a bludgeon. "Hey," it spoke to the now mollified Magos, still twitching on the deck.
"Heeey…" the Magos somehow managed, its voice processor crackling excessively.
"Hey." The Captain turned, briskly walking out of the Enginarium and the Commissar followed, apparently satisfied that discipline had been metered out, even if it wasn't by its own hand.
"Hey?" The Commissar asked, inquiring about where the Captain would like to go next. "Hey?" It offered, suggesting any of the Ship's many cafeterias. Power was important to the Ship, but so was food and water to the Ship's crew. It could also use a snack, but it didn't voice that particular to the Captain.
The Captain briefly considered. "Hey?"
The Commissar nodded as they walked. "Hey," it gestured in a direction, towards one of the Ship's hangar bays. Specifically where… those things were being held.
The Captain nodded. "Hey," it decided.
The Commissar led the way. It's snack would have to wait.
The ancient daemon did not know how much time had passed since the Despoiler had fallen in battle. Since it had been… had been taken, captured, held as a… as a trophy.
Perhaps not quite the last one. It… this place… was no trophy room. Which somehow made it worse. Had it been a trophy room, the Daemonsword would have been fine with that. It could have been, could have become an object of contention, could have waited for another worthy enough to wield it to come along, to gaze upon its form, for their soul to fill with desire. Perhaps steal it, spirit it away to someone else, either as a trophy or weapon. That way, it could have found a new wielder, one worthy enough to carry it.
But this? An insult upon insults. It was not a trophy here, merely junk left upon a floor. Because 'here' was the deck of a hangar bay, inside of one of the warships of the Anathema.
And Drach'nyen, The Echo of the First Murder, had been unceremoniously dumped upon the ferrocrete deck like… like… a piece of refuse. Discarded and forgotten, along with the idiot minor Daemon inside of that Fool's Talon, still attached to part of said Fool's arm.. And yes, Abaddon's other arm was still gripping its hilt and oozing blackish blood all over it. And the Daemonsword noted that yet another part of that... failure of a Warmaster was also there, dumped just as unceremoniously and just as forgotten.
Well, not quite forgotten. There was a loose cordon of… things, a circle of vaguely humanoid not-humans standing around the daemon weapons, numbering about two dozen at the most. They wore the uniforms of the Anathema's Navy and carried the appropriate weapons. But…
But they were not humans. Or Daemons, or any other race it knew of. Anything the ancient daemon knew of. There were no souls there, not any that it could perceive with its warp senses. Nothing to corrupt. Instead of pinpoints of warp presences here, there was only this strange dilute haze - as if a single great soul was spread out in an impossible manner. They were something new, with their comically oversized heads and blank expressionless faces. And they had ceaselessly watched both Drach'nyen and the Talon, for what knew how long.
At first he had tried to speak to them, offering promises of power and strength. Of vengeance against their enemies. Surprisingly they had completely ignored the Daemonsword, in truth only responding not to Drach'nyen but to the Talon when it twitched, or when the bolters clicked, trying to fire corrupted shells long since spent. Drach'nyen could still hear the madly-gibbering Daemon housed within it, uttering incomprehensible garbage and no doubt equally upset about its predicament.
Eventually however, one of them that looked to be in charge of the rabble had gestured to another, saying something utterly alien to Drach'nyen before the latter darted away through a hatch, only to return moments later with a box clutched in its arms. A box that Drach'nyen realized with horror was full of earmuffs, as the thing began to walk around the circle and handed them out to every one of the things present.
That had been what might have been hours or could have been years ago. So now it might as well have been muted, for all the good it would do. It doubted its current situation could get any worse.
And then two more of them entered the bay.
----====][====----
The Captain strode onto the Hangar Deck and swiftly approached the cordon of security personnel at the center. Most of the minor spacecraft had been cleared away, taken either to the deck on the opposite side of the Ship or stowed out of the way inside the adjacent maintenance hall, as had the Rating and Engineer Fairies that would have normally tended to them. Only a dromon remained, the passenger shuttle much too large to fit through the cross-access to the port hangar. It had seemed an odd choice, to deposit the unholy relics on the hangar bay floor. The Captain would have preferred them locked inside of a storage locker in a distant corner of the Ship and under heavy guard, or just launched into space where the Ship's point defense weapons could have made short work of them. But orders were orders. Especially Her orders.
Meanwhile, the assigned personnel that had been ordered to watch them had reported that one of them had tried to somehow speak to those present. The Sergeant Fairy had requested hearing protection from the Quartermaster Fairy in the form of heavy-duty earmuffs. The Captain was mildly impressed at the Sergeant's initiative, and felt it warranted a commendation.
Speaking of which, said Sergeant turned to face its superior as it approached. "Hey," it saluted.
"Hey," the Captain replied. "Hey?"
"Hey," the Sergeant gestured to the daemonsword at the center of the cordon. "Hey."
"Hey." The Captain began to walk towards the center and the Chaotic weapons, then past the cordon.
"Hey?" The Commissar at its side asked, alarmed. "Hey!" it insisted.
"Hey," The Captain reassured his companion as they reached the center. Before them lay the three relics recovered. The cursed Daemonsword and the weird Talon-Bolter hybrid thing. And the third relic, which the Captain thought was oddly out of place next to the others.
The Daemonsword was hideous, up close. Ugly and malformed, a true product of the Warp. An arm, clad in a garishly decorated power armor bracer still clutched the weapon's handle. And much to the Captain's surprise the face on the Daemonsword's warped crossguard began to actually speak.
"You," it hissed. "You are not like the others here. Free me, take me into battle, and you shall be granted power beyond your wildest imagination!"
The Captain regarded the speaking sword, noting the hint of desperation in its voice before turning to the Commissar. "Hey?"
"Hey," the Commissar replied.
The Captain turned back to the sword. And grinned wickedly, enough to make even the daemonsword pause mid-lie. "Hey."
The Hangar Bay was quiet already, with the absence of bustling personnel and work and the silent security team. But it somehow got even quieter.
"Wh- what are you about to do!?" It asked, suddenly frightened.
"Hey." And then the Captain reached down the front of its pants before pulling, a great tearing sound echoed through the hangar as a pair of Munitorum-issue underwear were freed from the Captain's pants.
"What are you going to do with that- YOU WILL NOT PUT THAT ACCURSED THING IN MY MOUghrargharb-" The Daemonsword was unceremoniously silenced as the Captain leaned forward and shoved the unholy wad of fabric into the open mouth of the hideous face, and enforcing silence upon the Hangar Bay once more. Satisfied with its work, the Captain stood up and turned back the way it came, and the Commissar followed, once more thoroughly impressed by the Captain's… cavalier way of enforcing authority on the Ship.
"Hey?" the Captain asked.
"Hey," The Commissar firmly replied in agreement. The Officers' Mess sounded like a great idea - they could use a snack. And it would be a fine opportunity to take stock of the Ship's current stores of supplies - water, victuals, other consumables. And snacks, especially snacks.
But their trek back to the lift and the upper levels of the Ship was quickly cut short, by the First Officer no less. "Hey!" it breathlessly exclaimed.
The Captain and Commissar both halted. "Hey!?" the former asked in surprise.
"Hey," The First Officer confirmed, its arm gesturing wildly above them. "Hey!"
The Captain was moving at once, its long strides making its subordinates all but jog to keep up and quickly taking it towards their newfound destination: The Ship's primary Chapel, nestled above them in the superstructure of the Ship.
Time was of the essence. She was here.
Will had passed out pretty much the moment her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion of the day's events having finally caught up to her new human form. She had expected or at least desired pleasant dreams of the Emperor, of waging glorious battle against his enemies and winning, by carrying out His divine will amongst the stars. Or at least of lovely stewardesses, brushing her hair.
What she ended up getting was… this.
She stood before the great golden entrance of her own Chapel, the golden aquila of the Imperium emblazoned across the double doors. She… wasn't sure how to react to it. She looked down, realizing that she was barefoot and still wearing her nightgown, the metal deck apparent beneath her feet. It was… warm for some reason, when she somehow expected it to be cold.
She walked forward, placing her hands against the doors and pushed, and much to her surprise the colossal doors easily swung inward, floating silently on their hinges. The Chapel was vast, empty, countless rows of pews to her left and right, awaiting loyal servants of the Emperor that would likely never fill the seats again. The sides were dominated by titanic stained glass windows, featuring scenes of her past Captains and crew at war. The ceiling above her was covered in murals, depicting past battles she had fought in the Emperor's name. Directly before her at the far end of the empty aisle was the large golden podium upon which her ship-board Ministorum Priest would have given his sermons, now vacant. And behind that still…
Was Him. Or rather a massive golden statue of Him. Her God Emperor in resplendent blinding gold, gauntleted hands resting upon the pommel of a massive sword, looking down at his flock.
At her.
She walked forward towards his statue, past endless rows of pews, her feet taking her to the steps up to the podium before she began to climb. In moments she was standing before Him, His Majesty clad in his great golden armour and her in her bedclothes.
"I…" she stammered, unsure of what to even say. The syllable echoed through the empty chamber. "I don't know how to be human," she eventually managed to say. "I… I'm supposed to be a warship. I'm not even supposed to be alive. I don't know why you made me a girl. A… human being." Will sank to her knees, hoping for a response.
The statue said nothing.
"I was asked something about myself. About my hair." a hand went to the long golden braid, lovingly woven by Alys. "I don't- I didn't know what to say, because I shouldn't be human." She sank to her knees. "I… I wish you could tell me."
The statue said nothing.
Will didn't expect it to either - somehow she knew it wouldn't even though this was probably a dream and anything was possible in those. She knelt there in silence for a spell, her breathing the only sound that punctuated it. Breathing, she thought. Something that people do. That I do now. She brought her hands to her chest, squished them against her breasts, felt her heart beating in her chest. It beat in tune with the distant hum that coursed through her hull, that barely-audible tone that was composed of all the vibrations of all the working systems aboard herself, a sound one could never really escape when aboard her. In all likelihood she would be the only one to ever hear her heartbeat ever again. She… felt sad about that. As if she had lost something important to her.
Her Admiral. Parol. Her crew...
But had she gained anything? This… comprehension? Of Mortality?
Of being human?
She knelt there, pondering, until a hand came to rest upon her head and began to gently scratch it.
She was shaken from her thoughts, and looked up into the face of none other than her Captain Fairy, albeit devoid of his hat. Her First Officer and Commissar Fairies were there too, just off to the side. "Hey," it asked, concerned.
"I… I'll be fine, I think," she reassured him. Or maybe her. They all looked… androgynous at first glance. She felt at least that her Captain Fairy was male, same as she had felt that the little Techpriest Fairy from earlier had been female underneath the robes and mechadendrites. "I just sort of, well, wandered in here somehow."
"Hey," he nodded reassuringly. "Hey."
"Yeah." Her hands went to the braid. "The stewardess, Alys. She did a good job with it."
"Hey."
Will nodded. "I'll pass along the compliment." Will paused before continuing. "Umm, Captain?"
"Hey?"
"Can you… can you keep doing that? It feels nice."
"Hey," her Captain Fairy replied, and continued to stroke her hair in earnest, much to her pleasure.
She stayed like that, for a while.
I tried capturing the overall attitude and appearance of the Fairies as well as I could. I decided to portray them from their point of view that way for a reason: That reason being that they are all ultimately a small part of the greater whole that is Will, and they're trying to figure out how to work. I was also half-asleep as I was writing the dialogue for the main Fairy part, and I literally have no idea what most of what is being said. Seriously, I haven't slept for 2+ days due to insomnia, but I seem to write the nuttiest when I'm in this state for better or worse. You decide.
Also, I couldn't resist appearing Drach'nyen here - I deliberated on it for all of one minute before I said "Fuck It" and wrote the bugger in.
Also, hopefully you didn't need the cyanide bolts. Personally, I need a shot of vodka, equal parts cheap and strong preferably.
----====][====----
"Unbecoming, so unbecoming," Will muttered as the Stewardess gently brushed her hair. It had been embarrassing, realizing she had had a… a spectator for a few moments back there. One moment she had been commanding an imaginary fleet, sending them to battle an equally imaginary fleet of heretics or maybe xenos amongst the sud drifts of the bath, before suddenly realizing that there was somebody watching her. It wouldn't have been too bad getting caught unawares acting as a child would. But she had been naked, her only coverings having been clusters of suds adhered to her hull- her skin, thankfully in strategic places. For now she was clothed in an elegant nightgown, somehow miraculously long enough to comfortably fit her.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Will," the Stewardess gently replied. "Everyone deserves a little stress relief from time to time." Will was kneeling on the bed, facing away as the stewardess tended to her hair from a seat pulled up to the bed.
"I… I got caught up in the moment is all," she blushed. Which was true, being it was her first bath in, well, ever. "It won't happen again."
"Well even if it does I won't say anything," the Stewardess smiled. She continued to brush Will's hair, the sensation sending tingles up and down Will's spine. "Miss Will, may I ask you something?"
"Sure, I suppose."
"May I ask how you treat your hair so well?"
Will blinked. "My… hair?"
"Yes." The brush continued to flow through her hair, the countless bristles parting the strands, like numerous boats sailing upon a golden sea. "I… have never seen nor felt such illustrious hair before. You've taken incredible care of it. May I… may I know what shampoos and conditioners you use?"
"I…" Will trailed off. She didn't have an answer to it. Once a century she had been dry docked, her countless systems tweaked and adjusted as needed by a legion of Enginseers and Techpriests. Her hull gone over with a fine-toothed comb, any cracks or unexpected damages quickly repaired, and past repairs reviewed in depth by cogitator and Magos alike, keen eyes looking for potential errors and shortcomings in past maintenance. Weapons and auguries were reconfigured as needed, her core cogiators purged of any corrupting code and placated with prayers and incense. A whole storage compartment within her had been given over and dedicated solely to her Rites and Records of Maintenance - an ever-increasing volume of parchment listing her ongoing state of well-being. But her hair?
She thought back earlier, to the numerous options to choose from in the bath. Soaps and shampoos and conditioners with archaic High Gothic names. Further still to distant impersonal memories, embarrassing memories of her few female officers bathing. Further still to her Admiral bathing and causing her to blush even more. "Well, I, umm... I use a bit of everything, and a bit more than I probably should," she stammered. "I'm also careful not to let it get damaged." Which was truthful to a degree - Neither Mr. Armless nor his garbage scow could do more than even scratch her, and the bath had cleaned her hair of the soot from said scow's fiery destruction to her satisfaction.
"A bit of everything? Interesting," she softly chuckled. "I'll admit I never thought to mix and match, so to speak." Apparently satisfied with detangling her golden strands, the Stewardess began to deftly and carefully re-braid her hair, hands well-practiced to the point where simple braiding was an art form. Will relished the feeling of her hands in her hair, of being cared for. Memories of being tended to by scores of men and Techpriests, fixing damage after fierce battles against heretics and xenos. The Stewardess was through all too quickly, carefully applying a single golden silk cuff to keep her hair in place. "I think I might try using several shampoos at once. Thank you, for the advice."
She rose from where she sat behind Will, and Will herself stood as well. She was keenly aware of how tall she was, standing next to the much shorter woman. She was about six feet, but next to Will who still managed to stand head and shoulders over her…
"Thank you," Will spoke after breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Umm, about my clothes…"
"Oh, your uniform?" The Stewardess spoke. "They are being laundered and cared for. Your weapons I believe are in the care of the honor guard in the foyer. The Sergeant stated he would guard them with his life."
Sergeant Cantrell. Right. "Oh, well that's good then. Thank you."
"It is my pleasure to serve, my Lady," she replied. "If you need anything, myself or one of the other stewardesses are just a call away."
"I… I will. Thank you, Miss…?"
"Alys," the Stewardess replied with a bow. "Good night, Miss Will."
"Good night," she spoke and with that Alys departed, leaving Will alone. Her chronometer had been updated in the interim at some point, matched with that of the Legacy. Which meant that she had about… eight hours or so, before she had to meet Admiral Quarrel once more. Which meant that she would likely need to be early, very early, and would need enough time to prepare herself in the morning…
She shrugged, and a Fairy on her Bridge helpfully set an alarm to sound a full hour and a half prior. Good enough, Will decided, and pulled away to covers of the massive bed before sinking into it, and she all but immediately passed out.
----====][====----
Meanwhile, within the halls and corridors of His Will…
The Captain Fairy blinked. It looked at the numerous officers standing around the Bridge. Its head pivoted, large empty eyes taking in the scene. It stood on the command podium, the large holo-projector behind it currently devoid of any useful information. Below the Captain, the various officers and crew stood by their posts, motionless and ready to accept their orders.
"Hey!" The Captain commanded after a moment's consideration, and the assembled crew sprang to action, taking their posts and seats, a quiet cacophony of 'Hey' filling the previously silent chamber with low-level noise.
"Hey." A voice spoke to the Captain's right. It turned, taking in the face of the newcomer. It wore the attire of a Commissar, one assigned to the ranks of the Navy. A peaked cap crowned its oversized head, and one of its hands rested on the bolt pistol on its hip. "Hey," The Commissar Fairy repeated.
"Hey," The Captain agreed. Touring the Ship and taking into account the state of the Ship's affairs would be a good idea. Leaving an Acting Captain in charge would be prudent, however. But the First Officer Fairy - normally the recipient of such a task - was nowhere to be found. Presumably it would turn up eventually. But in the meantime…
...There needed to be an Acting Captain. The Captain's empty eyes panned across the crew on the Bridge. They fell upon the perfect candidate, an Ensign Fairy of little to no notability. "Hey!"
The Ensign popped out of its seat, turning and saluting the Captain. "Hey."
"Hey!" the Captain gestured to the empty deck before it.
The Ensign sprang to action, quickly running up to the Captain and standing at attention before its superior. The Captain then reached up to its own head, lifting the ornate bicorne from its perch before placing it upon the Ensign's own head. "Hey," The Captain spoke.
The Acting Captain Fairy blinked, before curtly nodding. "Hey!" it then saluted, acknowledging its temporary assignment.
"Hey." Satisfied the Captain turned, walking to the nearest exit and towards the nearest Lift. The Commissar eyed the Acting Captain warily before following. "Hey?" it enquired.
"Hey," the Captain said. It was confident the hapless Ensign could step up to the task. Any Bridge Officer should be ready to do so if the need arose.
Standing before the nearest lift, waiting for the arcane device to arrive and then deliver it to its first destination, the Captain carefully considered where to go first. After a brief moment of deliberation, it decided on visiting the Enginarium. The lift arrived, and the gilded doors slid open, its new occupants stepping inside before being whisked away into the depths of the Ship.
A few minutes and a few winding corridors later the Captain and Commissar arrived, the former swinging open the great copper doors of the chamber. Above and before the Captain was merely one part of the Ship's vast primary plasma reactor. The meters-thick casing formed the entirety of one great wall of the chamber, the reactor far too large to be contained to a single compartment. It was the beating heart of the Ship, the burning star upon which all of the Ship's systems drew power.
The Magos Fairy was there, the one in charge of all of the maintenance for the Ship. It, as well as a number of other Techpriest Fairies stood around and gazed upon a central dais, upon which a truly massive book rested. It turned to face the Captain, eyes warily considering the interloper upon the sacred deck of the Omnissiah. "Hey," it eventually spoke, offering a raspy electronic greeting to its technical superior.
"Hey," the Captain replied. Its own eyes panned across the chamber, taking in all there was to see. "Hey?"
"Hey." The Magos gestured to the dais. "Hey."
"Hey," the Captain agreed. It strode over to the dais, to take a look at the massive tome. The book looked old, eons old, yet showed few if any signs of wear - no creases along its spine, nor fraying of its thick cover. "Hey?"
"Hey." The Magos pointed to the title.
The tome's title was a long one, several lines of High Gothic golden text embossed onto the thick leather hardcover, above the sacred symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus. 'The Assembled Engineering Manuals and Technical Schematics for Operation and Maintenance of Apocalypse-class Battleship, M30 Edition,' was what the title stated. Gently, the Captain took hold of the cover and opened the giant book much to the alarm of the Magos Fairy and other Techpriests, before turning to a random page near the front. It landed on a two-page spread of some sort of arcane device - an air-scrubbing machine, according to the title at the top of the page. It observed the pages, their crispness and lack of wear, all the while ignoring the Magos' protests before closing the book.
"Hey!" the Captain spoke after a long moment, turning to the Magos. "Hey!"
"Hey!" The Magos shouted in its defense.
"Hey?" the Captain spoke, and the room grew deathly silent. Even the beating reactor seemed to quiet, if only briefly. "Hey." the Captain then grabbed hold of the massive book, raising it above its hatless head before bringing the colossal tome down upon the Magos' augmented and hooded skull, sending it to the deck with a heavy thud.
*wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey." *wham* "Hey."
The Magos lay face-down and twitching on the deck, its mostly-cybernetic face now molded to the deck of the Enginarium. The Techpriest huddled behind nearby maintenance consoles, now rightly terrified of the Captain. Even the Commissar was impressed. It had been trained to use its bolt pistol mainly to ensure both discipline and common sense - while messier, it nevertheless took less effort to make a point or statement.
And what a statement it was. A… cathartic statement, at that. The Captain placed the ancient tome back upon the sacred dais, the volume seemingly no worse for wear after its impromptu usage as a bludgeon. "Hey," it spoke to the now mollified Magos, still twitching on the deck.
"Heeey…" the Magos somehow managed, its voice processor crackling excessively.
"Hey." The Captain turned, briskly walking out of the Enginarium and the Commissar followed, apparently satisfied that discipline had been metered out, even if it wasn't by its own hand.
"Hey?" The Commissar asked, inquiring about where the Captain would like to go next. "Hey?" It offered, suggesting any of the Ship's many cafeterias. Power was important to the Ship, but so was food and water to the Ship's crew. It could also use a snack, but it didn't voice that particular to the Captain.
The Captain briefly considered. "Hey?"
The Commissar nodded as they walked. "Hey," it gestured in a direction, towards one of the Ship's hangar bays. Specifically where… those things were being held.
The Captain nodded. "Hey," it decided.
The Commissar led the way. It's snack would have to wait.
----====][====----
The ancient daemon did not know how much time had passed since the Despoiler had fallen in battle. Since it had been… had been taken, captured, held as a… as a trophy.
Perhaps not quite the last one. It… this place… was no trophy room. Which somehow made it worse. Had it been a trophy room, the Daemonsword would have been fine with that. It could have been, could have become an object of contention, could have waited for another worthy enough to wield it to come along, to gaze upon its form, for their soul to fill with desire. Perhaps steal it, spirit it away to someone else, either as a trophy or weapon. That way, it could have found a new wielder, one worthy enough to carry it.
But this? An insult upon insults. It was not a trophy here, merely junk left upon a floor. Because 'here' was the deck of a hangar bay, inside of one of the warships of the Anathema.
And Drach'nyen, The Echo of the First Murder, had been unceremoniously dumped upon the ferrocrete deck like… like… a piece of refuse. Discarded and forgotten, along with the idiot minor Daemon inside of that Fool's Talon, still attached to part of said Fool's arm.. And yes, Abaddon's other arm was still gripping its hilt and oozing blackish blood all over it. And the Daemonsword noted that yet another part of that... failure of a Warmaster was also there, dumped just as unceremoniously and just as forgotten.
Well, not quite forgotten. There was a loose cordon of… things, a circle of vaguely humanoid not-humans standing around the daemon weapons, numbering about two dozen at the most. They wore the uniforms of the Anathema's Navy and carried the appropriate weapons. But…
But they were not humans. Or Daemons, or any other race it knew of. Anything the ancient daemon knew of. There were no souls there, not any that it could perceive with its warp senses. Nothing to corrupt. Instead of pinpoints of warp presences here, there was only this strange dilute haze - as if a single great soul was spread out in an impossible manner. They were something new, with their comically oversized heads and blank expressionless faces. And they had ceaselessly watched both Drach'nyen and the Talon, for what knew how long.
At first he had tried to speak to them, offering promises of power and strength. Of vengeance against their enemies. Surprisingly they had completely ignored the Daemonsword, in truth only responding not to Drach'nyen but to the Talon when it twitched, or when the bolters clicked, trying to fire corrupted shells long since spent. Drach'nyen could still hear the madly-gibbering Daemon housed within it, uttering incomprehensible garbage and no doubt equally upset about its predicament.
Eventually however, one of them that looked to be in charge of the rabble had gestured to another, saying something utterly alien to Drach'nyen before the latter darted away through a hatch, only to return moments later with a box clutched in its arms. A box that Drach'nyen realized with horror was full of earmuffs, as the thing began to walk around the circle and handed them out to every one of the things present.
That had been what might have been hours or could have been years ago. So now it might as well have been muted, for all the good it would do. It doubted its current situation could get any worse.
And then two more of them entered the bay.
----====][====----
The Captain strode onto the Hangar Deck and swiftly approached the cordon of security personnel at the center. Most of the minor spacecraft had been cleared away, taken either to the deck on the opposite side of the Ship or stowed out of the way inside the adjacent maintenance hall, as had the Rating and Engineer Fairies that would have normally tended to them. Only a dromon remained, the passenger shuttle much too large to fit through the cross-access to the port hangar. It had seemed an odd choice, to deposit the unholy relics on the hangar bay floor. The Captain would have preferred them locked inside of a storage locker in a distant corner of the Ship and under heavy guard, or just launched into space where the Ship's point defense weapons could have made short work of them. But orders were orders. Especially Her orders.
Meanwhile, the assigned personnel that had been ordered to watch them had reported that one of them had tried to somehow speak to those present. The Sergeant Fairy had requested hearing protection from the Quartermaster Fairy in the form of heavy-duty earmuffs. The Captain was mildly impressed at the Sergeant's initiative, and felt it warranted a commendation.
Speaking of which, said Sergeant turned to face its superior as it approached. "Hey," it saluted.
"Hey," the Captain replied. "Hey?"
"Hey," the Sergeant gestured to the daemonsword at the center of the cordon. "Hey."
"Hey." The Captain began to walk towards the center and the Chaotic weapons, then past the cordon.
"Hey?" The Commissar at its side asked, alarmed. "Hey!" it insisted.
"Hey," The Captain reassured his companion as they reached the center. Before them lay the three relics recovered. The cursed Daemonsword and the weird Talon-Bolter hybrid thing. And the third relic, which the Captain thought was oddly out of place next to the others.
The Daemonsword was hideous, up close. Ugly and malformed, a true product of the Warp. An arm, clad in a garishly decorated power armor bracer still clutched the weapon's handle. And much to the Captain's surprise the face on the Daemonsword's warped crossguard began to actually speak.
"You," it hissed. "You are not like the others here. Free me, take me into battle, and you shall be granted power beyond your wildest imagination!"
The Captain regarded the speaking sword, noting the hint of desperation in its voice before turning to the Commissar. "Hey?"
"Hey," the Commissar replied.
The Captain turned back to the sword. And grinned wickedly, enough to make even the daemonsword pause mid-lie. "Hey."
The Hangar Bay was quiet already, with the absence of bustling personnel and work and the silent security team. But it somehow got even quieter.
"Wh- what are you about to do!?" It asked, suddenly frightened.
"Hey." And then the Captain reached down the front of its pants before pulling, a great tearing sound echoed through the hangar as a pair of Munitorum-issue underwear were freed from the Captain's pants.
"What are you going to do with that- YOU WILL NOT PUT THAT ACCURSED THING IN MY MOUghrargharb-" The Daemonsword was unceremoniously silenced as the Captain leaned forward and shoved the unholy wad of fabric into the open mouth of the hideous face, and enforcing silence upon the Hangar Bay once more. Satisfied with its work, the Captain stood up and turned back the way it came, and the Commissar followed, once more thoroughly impressed by the Captain's… cavalier way of enforcing authority on the Ship.
"Hey?" the Captain asked.
"Hey," The Commissar firmly replied in agreement. The Officers' Mess sounded like a great idea - they could use a snack. And it would be a fine opportunity to take stock of the Ship's current stores of supplies - water, victuals, other consumables. And snacks, especially snacks.
But their trek back to the lift and the upper levels of the Ship was quickly cut short, by the First Officer no less. "Hey!" it breathlessly exclaimed.
The Captain and Commissar both halted. "Hey!?" the former asked in surprise.
"Hey," The First Officer confirmed, its arm gesturing wildly above them. "Hey!"
The Captain was moving at once, its long strides making its subordinates all but jog to keep up and quickly taking it towards their newfound destination: The Ship's primary Chapel, nestled above them in the superstructure of the Ship.
Time was of the essence. She was here.
----====][====----
Will had passed out pretty much the moment her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion of the day's events having finally caught up to her new human form. She had expected or at least desired pleasant dreams of the Emperor, of waging glorious battle against his enemies and winning, by carrying out His divine will amongst the stars. Or at least of lovely stewardesses, brushing her hair.
What she ended up getting was… this.
She stood before the great golden entrance of her own Chapel, the golden aquila of the Imperium emblazoned across the double doors. She… wasn't sure how to react to it. She looked down, realizing that she was barefoot and still wearing her nightgown, the metal deck apparent beneath her feet. It was… warm for some reason, when she somehow expected it to be cold.
She walked forward, placing her hands against the doors and pushed, and much to her surprise the colossal doors easily swung inward, floating silently on their hinges. The Chapel was vast, empty, countless rows of pews to her left and right, awaiting loyal servants of the Emperor that would likely never fill the seats again. The sides were dominated by titanic stained glass windows, featuring scenes of her past Captains and crew at war. The ceiling above her was covered in murals, depicting past battles she had fought in the Emperor's name. Directly before her at the far end of the empty aisle was the large golden podium upon which her ship-board Ministorum Priest would have given his sermons, now vacant. And behind that still…
Was Him. Or rather a massive golden statue of Him. Her God Emperor in resplendent blinding gold, gauntleted hands resting upon the pommel of a massive sword, looking down at his flock.
At her.
She walked forward towards his statue, past endless rows of pews, her feet taking her to the steps up to the podium before she began to climb. In moments she was standing before Him, His Majesty clad in his great golden armour and her in her bedclothes.
"I…" she stammered, unsure of what to even say. The syllable echoed through the empty chamber. "I don't know how to be human," she eventually managed to say. "I… I'm supposed to be a warship. I'm not even supposed to be alive. I don't know why you made me a girl. A… human being." Will sank to her knees, hoping for a response.
The statue said nothing.
"I was asked something about myself. About my hair." a hand went to the long golden braid, lovingly woven by Alys. "I don't- I didn't know what to say, because I shouldn't be human." She sank to her knees. "I… I wish you could tell me."
The statue said nothing.
Will didn't expect it to either - somehow she knew it wouldn't even though this was probably a dream and anything was possible in those. She knelt there in silence for a spell, her breathing the only sound that punctuated it. Breathing, she thought. Something that people do. That I do now. She brought her hands to her chest, squished them against her breasts, felt her heart beating in her chest. It beat in tune with the distant hum that coursed through her hull, that barely-audible tone that was composed of all the vibrations of all the working systems aboard herself, a sound one could never really escape when aboard her. In all likelihood she would be the only one to ever hear her heartbeat ever again. She… felt sad about that. As if she had lost something important to her.
Her Admiral. Parol. Her crew...
But had she gained anything? This… comprehension? Of Mortality?
Of being human?
She knelt there, pondering, until a hand came to rest upon her head and began to gently scratch it.
She was shaken from her thoughts, and looked up into the face of none other than her Captain Fairy, albeit devoid of his hat. Her First Officer and Commissar Fairies were there too, just off to the side. "Hey," it asked, concerned.
"I… I'll be fine, I think," she reassured him. Or maybe her. They all looked… androgynous at first glance. She felt at least that her Captain Fairy was male, same as she had felt that the little Techpriest Fairy from earlier had been female underneath the robes and mechadendrites. "I just sort of, well, wandered in here somehow."
"Hey," he nodded reassuringly. "Hey."
"Yeah." Her hands went to the braid. "The stewardess, Alys. She did a good job with it."
"Hey."
Will nodded. "I'll pass along the compliment." Will paused before continuing. "Umm, Captain?"
"Hey?"
"Can you… can you keep doing that? It feels nice."
"Hey," her Captain Fairy replied, and continued to stroke her hair in earnest, much to her pleasure.
She stayed like that, for a while.
----====][====----
I tried capturing the overall attitude and appearance of the Fairies as well as I could. I decided to portray them from their point of view that way for a reason: That reason being that they are all ultimately a small part of the greater whole that is Will, and they're trying to figure out how to work. I was also half-asleep as I was writing the dialogue for the main Fairy part, and I literally have no idea what most of what is being said. Seriously, I haven't slept for 2+ days due to insomnia, but I seem to write the nuttiest when I'm in this state for better or worse. You decide.
Also, I couldn't resist appearing Drach'nyen here - I deliberated on it for all of one minute before I said "Fuck It" and wrote the bugger in.
Also, hopefully you didn't need the cyanide bolts. Personally, I need a shot of vodka, equal parts cheap and strong preferably.
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jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Ah the best way to deal with 40k daemons when you can. Simply show that you don't really consider them worth your time and are nothing but trash.
chocolote12
A Penguin Flailing Against The Keyboard Of Life.
What? What cyanide bolts?