40 Thousand Reasons - Chapter 195

I woke up in the hospicae ward, with Sister Helena holding my hand at her warm bosom.

As things go, it could have been much worse.

“I’m not sick, am I?” I wondered while reviewing the datalogs through the Machine Spirit of the Black Lament.

The reception party had moved elsewhere, and only the Lamenters and my house troops were still on board. Well, it wasn’t like the Emperor needed a ship, even one as nice as my Blackstone Fortress.

But he did take my two tesseracts, and most of my precious loot, and that hurt a little. My heart was bleeding deep inside, which fit perfectly with the Lamenter heraldry.

The third tesseract on my Aquila necklace was still there, with my ‘good’ loot and supplies for my troops. This was the one I have recovered from Commorragh. I could work with a single tesseract labyrinth and nine trillion thrones as a starting capital. I did start with much less after all. I was even born naked and powerless, like all babies.

“Sick? You’ll never be sick again, my lord.” the faithful Sister whispered in a soft voice, then walked out and left me check my body by myself.

For a second, I was worried about my progenoid glands, and checked for them. Still there!

Excellent news, for once.

I rushed to the bathroom and checked myself all over. My muscles had their own muscles now, and I could sense a few extra organs deep inside my body. And inside the brain too.

I was also a head taller than I recalled, probably to make room inside for the extra gear. Almost the height of a midget Astartes now, which fit me just fine. Still, I wasn’t the same as my Astartes sons, or even the Custodes.

No Black Carapace ports, no progenoid glands in the neck, and more importantly the junk still worked just fine. I’ll have to thank Janice for putting a good word for my jewels.

While admiring the work of the Emperor, I sensed Lady Velayne enter my hospicae ward. “I’m in the refresher!” I shouted as she seemed a bit worried at the empty bed.

A second later, she crossed the room and joined me. “You look…good.” Velayne whispered and even managed to blush a little.

I grinned widely and turned on the shower. “In or out?” I demanded in a teasing voice.

Much later, she rested on the muscles on top of my pectoral muscles, a bit tired yet rather satisfied. “I was tasked to keep you company, Pef. And keep an eye on the Harlequin too. He is not exactly what he seems to be.” the Inquisitor disclosed before falling asleep like a cat on her favorite pillow.

Gently I set her aside, and moved myself into my quarters, nearly stepping on an invisible Assassin curled at the base of the door.

Canis was also sleeping on his furs, and opened a lazy eye to show he noticed me.

“There’s a bed right here, Vaedrax!” I commented in wry tone, while picking at the wardrobe for something loose that would still fit my larger body. A Catachan style fatigue uniform would do, for now. It’s what I also used to dress up a couple of Primarchs who didn’t have proper clothes and armor just yet.

The man rose to his feet and dispelled the Etherium cloak, then glanced at Canis with a frown. “Can’t you use the door, like everyone else? And why are you so big?”

“Call it a growth spurt, my friend. The Emperor helped too.” I answered in a snarky voice, while trying to find a larger pair of boots in my dimensional inventory.

The Culexus Assassin pointed a finger at me, and did some type of nega-Warp spell. My skin tingled in response and a shield formed around me, like an invisible bubble. “You’re much stronger now. My temple recruits people of this strength.”

he revealed with a surprised voice.

I bet he didn’t mean my new muscles.

“I thought you guys were cloning Blanks for your program.” I wondered with a wry tone, while going to pet my wolf and check him for any lingering damage.

But Canis was fine, more than fine. A dozen cuts and burns on his paws had vanished, and he seemed to have become a bit larger and stronger as well. I might need a wider door. “Woof?” the wolf asked at my curious probing. I just scratched his head and the wolf sighed in delight.

“We can clone Blanks…but there are risks and nasty failures sometimes. The Temple prefers natural operatives, whenever possible.” Vaedrax muttered in a low voice.

I turned to check on him, and noticed a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. “So this is where I’m supposed to offer my family for the program. Natural Blanks are quite rare, and most get killed before you can find them.” I concluded with a sigh of my own.

Perhaps being smarter wasn’t always a blessing.

Vaedrax nodded a bit cautiously. “You did offer hundreds of Blanks to various Astartes Chapters.” he countered.

“There were contingencies in place, Vaedrax. Astartes training kills a thousand recruits for every new Space Marine. Which is fine, when you’re sifting through the trash at the bottom of a Hive World. Gangers and criminals and the like. Not so fine with my sons. Each of them gets schooling enough to earn them a Captain rank and an enginseer title.” I explained in a harsher voice.

The Assassin measured me a bit more thoughtfully. “The Culexus cannot afford that kind of waste, since Blanks are too rare. But I see your point.”

“You obviously don’t. You work alone, or perhaps with a small Kill Team. Now imagine you could have twenty like you, going after a target. Or a thousand. Or twenty Psi-Titans in support, and a fleet of Blank Astartes covering you from orbit.” I offered with a grim smile.

He blinked and stood still, mulling over my words.

Well, at least I got something out of it.

“A million Blank Astartes. That would be nice, if at all possible.” Vaedrax whispered to himself.

“You’re still thinking too small, my untouchable friend. We are mostly immune to Warp, psykers and various mental interference from Enslavers and other parasites. Now imagine the whole of humanity like us !” I said in a glorious voice, almost like holding a speech.

The man sat down on my bed, trying to compute what I was saying. “If that’s even possible…”

In a normal world it wouldn’t be. But here, we had a galactic-sized dictatorship. Social norms could be changed by decree, and they often were. What was illegal and anathema one day, it became the norm a millennium later, just like the Ecclesiarchy had done with the Imperial Truth, turned into the Imperial Cult.

Turn the untouchables and Pariahs into Nobles and Angels, and people would gladly offer their children to become the new ruling class. I was already doing that in the Fringe, with some measure of success.

Perhaps I was naive to place my faith in the Emperor, but I had faith anyway. And if he wouldn’t do it, for some obscure reason, I didn’t actually need his help. The Blank plan was still going, it would just take longer.

“I’ll have a meal sent over. And don’t bother the wolf. He hasn’t eaten anyone in weeks.” I quipped in a lighter tone, and snapped my fingers by reflex.

The tesseract didn’t actually need gestures to work, as it used an empathic connection to its user. But a snap made it look better. ‘See how easy it is for me!’

I arrived beside the brightest techpriest of them all, Archmagos Cawl. “I need a new armor.” I demanded with a level voice.

The cyborg turned to measure me for a second, then glanced up at the Psi-Titan. “You’ll fit the cockpit just fine, Lord Lancefire. Hop in and let’s test the Manifold circuit.”

On the one hand, I wouldn’t get a Master-crafted power armor from him. On the other, I had my own Psi-Titan, made by the Emperor himself.

I wasn’t too sad with my choices.

So I just moved myself into the empty cockpit. A second later, the world exploded in my mind, as the Mind Impulse Unit linked up with the Machine Spirit, but a different type of Spirit from my Knight. The Ciricrux_Anima converted psyker soul energy into motive power and senses, and the sleeping Titan had six healthy Alpha-level psykers to draw from.

Options for various Titan-scale spells opened into my mind, from the Shroud of Terror, the psi-sirens able to crush souls and revolts with its invisible waves, and up to the Death Pulse bombs and the Necrotechica temporal-repair spell.

A couple more exotic spells like the Quickening speed boost and the Antipathic Tempest of unhallow lightning could be deployed as well, and that was without getting into the left hand of darkness or Sinistramanus Tenebrae, a Psi-cannon which resembled a directional Vortex weapon, though without the Vortex part.

I have seen it in action on Saturn, and even Greater Daemons were killed with it. Well, for as long as the Alpha psykers lasted, that is.

The last spell seemed a bit superfluous. With Biomancy I could drain the life force of everything in a dozen kilometers radius, then fire it as a concentrated beam of soul death, similarly to what the Immaterium beam of the Blackstone Fortress could do.

Well, it would be probably useful if I fell right in the middle of an Ork Waagh or some Tyranid swarm. The Princeps of Albedelach had no reason to use this spell on demons, or the insane humans besieging the Imperial Palace.

My own Psi-Titan was named Occedentalis-Sabaktes, a name which meant Destroyer from the West in ancient Greek. Well, it was certainly a destroyer, as it wasn’t built to construct buildings or roads.

Below the snarling lion emblem, the Titan had a simple inscription. “Ordo Sinister – Pavore Dominetur” which translates from High Gothic as “Masters of Fear.”

‘Up and let’s take a small walk, Sabaktes!’ I urged the God-machine. The first steps were a bit shakey, but soon my mind adapted to the height difference. But the halls of the fort weren’t suited for a test drive. There was plenty of elbow room outside though.

I moved us on top of the Black Lament, and began running at full tilt, even engaging the Quickening to see how fast I could go. In a single minute I arrived back where I started, while the Anima was venting extra heat through the upper cooling coils.

Quite fast, comparable to an Astartes jet bike in fact. This was in vacuum though, so air friction would slow the Titan somewhat on the surface of a planet.

So I moved myself on Ganymede, the poor moon which had just been incinerated by the Chaos fleet attacking Jupiter. Recovery teams were sifting though the debris, so I went to lend a hand. The right arm of the Psi-Titan was in fact a Power Claw stronger than a thousand escavators, and with my help we soon managed to clear the vitrified sand and molten ferroconcrete, to reach the Data Hub burried under a broken mountain.

“Want me to kick the door open?” I asked in a helpful tone.

“Please don’t, my lord. The records inside are written on paper.” A scribe in a biohazard armor answered at once.

Perhaps I should stop helping then. With a wry salute I turned and jumped off, using the lightning storm to glide just like I saw Sister Stern do with her own lightning powers.

The landing wasn’t as smooth as hers, since my Titan massed as much as an assault lander. The right knee bent and twisted with a horrible screech. Next time, make a note Pef. Jumping from a mountain in a Titan wasn’t easy of the feet.

Oh well. Time to reverse time and fix the injury, right?

The Necrotechica spell worked like a charm though, undoing my small mistake and turning the broken foot back into shape. Still, two psykers of the right side were giving off signs of soul trauma, so perhaps not all injuries could be fixed.

Nevertheless, I picked up speed and ran for the next mountain, to help yet another recovery team. There were even some Ultramarines here, wearing exo-suits on top of their power armor for extra digging power.

“I can lend a hand.” I offered in a pleasant voice, and held the giant claw up.

“Don’t damage the vault, Lamenter. Primarch Guilliman wants the records intact.” an Ultramarine Sergeant proclaimed while waving his people away.

So I scratched the door a little. Big deal. It was only a meter!