Slowly, the shock of becoming an orphan, alone in a middle of a hostile galaxy worn off, as my mind concentrated on the important goal of survival. I had to prove myself a worthy ship Captain, a skilled Rogue Trader and at least a decent general for my small army. Otherwise, I would find myself kicked out from an airlock, with the ship's Navigator finally happy to be rid of my Blank aura.

Not that my aura works like normal Blanks do. I read they create instant hostility into anyone with a soul, or at least a minimal Warp presence, something humanity has in spades. Feeling your soul getting absorbed into a menacing black hole would explain the hostility, perhaps.

Luckily, I am not one of those natural and rare Pariahs. My gift is bland and merely protects myself from the Warp, something which confuses those more sensitive to the Warp, but doesn't burn their soul. Of course, it also protects me from astropaths, telepaths and diviners, as well as other potential troubles like daemonic possession and all those visions or dreams so common among the crew.

Not that I need visions to plan ahead. Somehow, I remember perfectly everything I seen of this universe in my previous life, although the order of the events is sometimes different. I have my own theories why this happens: maybe my memories got scrambled, or some local deity plays with time, or the Emperor himself dreams on his Golden Throne and changes things, perhaps subconsciously.

I do recall the existence of a special Inquisition Order, Ordo Cronos, that investigates timeline manipulations. And there are other beings around that play with time, be they Necron or C'tan, Eldar or H'rud.

But for now, I focus on the task at hand, proving my genius and savant status, by using my expensive implants to run the logistics of a planetary invasion from my Captain's command chair. I am also very lucky and do not fail.

The conquest of Retribution lasted merely months.

Then again, we had a cruiser in orbit, 5 kilometers of guns, armor and cathedrals, too able and willing to impart Retribution on these heretics.

Paired with air superiority via our fighter squadron, and liberal use of Mechanicus noosphere magic, the ground-locked enemies were rapidly corralled and captured, or killed if they resisted.

Either way, the planet provided fresh replenishments for the depleted lower decks, new serfs and other lower servitor castes being inducted, stamped and cyborgdized into more useful forms.

I even convinced Magos Gyron to begin installing servitors as targeting heads for our long range torpedoes.

It took a dozen trials, but now our long range weapons could turn and attempt homing while the propellant lasted. The efficiency increase was over 300 percent this time, but sadly my own area of control was limited by the Warrant.

Back in Empire Space, my words were feeble and likely without any true power, but here on my Ship, I now spoke with the Voice of the Emperor.

Something even the Mechanicus Cult was not likely to defy, just like every other members of the crew or the military we carried.

It will take a few more generations before the regiment fully transformed from an auxiliary Mechanicus unit to my own household regiment, but my father had already began that plan, replacing sergeants and corporals with loyal soldiers, sending difficult officers on long range reconnaissance and other dangerous missions.

I didn't want to stir things too much with the grenadiers, but I did want a proper armored regiment if that was possible. My clan was rich, very rich. I could afford to pay for new machines and equipment from my clan's budget, if we really needed to.

I named Lord Swedros, my Father's XO as planetary governor on Retribution, and gave him all the old Chimeras, half the new servitors and a grenadier battalion formed by the least loyal troops, as well as one orbit capable shuttle.

The guy seemed rather pleased at his new post, and probably thankful I didn't simply space him. That was the tradition after a Captain change among Rogue Traders.

But I didn't want to waste a competent guy, simply because I didn't like or trusted him. He could still be useful, making Retribution productive again, in a few decades.

"We head to Antax now, I'll need my Warrant ratified and some new equipment." I told my new bridge crew, still mostly clan members but with an enginseer and a more pliable auspex tech priest added in for extra points of view.

I knew I could get away with minor quirks, and myself being mentored by a Mechanicus Magos was no secret among the clan.

Not that anyone could tell we were related just by looking at us. Genetic diversity in the galaxy was enormous, and grandfather had over 30 wives during his millennium long life.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

My father had been more conservative, with only half that many wives, including my own mother that nobody knew where she had come from, and where she had gone.

I had a few pics of her, platinum hair and green eyes, and a rumor she was a witch. Probably a Blank, if I think on it. Still a witch, but the good kind in my view.

Keeping away the Warp was a nice gift she gave me.

I had a strange feeling I will meet her again, but hopefully not from the other end of an Exitus rifle. The Vindicare assassins are rather famous for training Blanks, after all.

Back in my mechanical lab, I go over a few more projects, all of them attempting to simplify and enhance Imperial technology with varied degrees of success and heresy.

We have a hand-held melta gun to analyze and rebuild, the standard template lasgun, an auspex sensor based on lasers, and my masterpiece: the tri-barrel multilaser.

The Lasgun is rather hard to improve cheaply. The Emperor himself had worked on this weapon for years, and he is rather smarter than me. Sure, expensive capacitors and high definition lenses can improve the gun significantly. The reverse is rather hard, dumbing down the weapon will not make it better.

I do have two minor fixes that will increase the lasguns's lethal range by 10 meters and powerpack's capacity by 5 percent.

Gyron is quite amazed at the simple solutions I found and has vowed to support the new Retribution template in front of his Mechanicus peers. That's our story, and we will stick to it.

Ancient STC patterns, discovered by a famous Rogue Trader. Highly effective, considering the Rogue Trader paid with his life for the discovery.

The auspex sensors are a type of LIDAR, and by increasing photon density and collimating the beam by a few microns, we extend range and definition by 7 percent. Nothing huge, until you consider the trillions of such sensors installed on nearly every war machine in the Empire.

The new Multilaser is nothing so simple. At first, I simply tried adding a new barrel for extra cooling and a minor rate of fire. But somehow, moving the cooling coiling into a new pattern increased not only the rate of fire, but penetration and range by 25 percent.

It is almost like geometric magic. Separating the barrels even further doesn't work, and instead reduces the damage.

"It is the polarization, Captain. Turning the mechanism by 45 degrees, it increases lenses reflection, as fewer photons pass through the focus mirror. Thus, less heating and better penetration." Gyron concludes after trying the same orientation with a normal two-barrel multilaser, and replicating my results.

I shrugged in defeat. "I bow to your wisdom, mentor. These Ancient humans were so clever, right?"

"You think me foolish, but all knowledge is manifestation of deity. The Emperor was learned indeed, and that's why we are allied now. But, as his Voice you improved his works too. Thus, Omnissiah flows though you." the priest commented in a serious tone.

I hummed in deep thought at that. Religion was a serious thing here, more so for those exposed to the Immaterium, unlike me.

"Our Navigator cannot sense the Astronomicon so far way. He locks on Ultramar instead, and works well enough. Though I still want to get a look inside those Geller generators once we are in dock." I mused out loud.

The Magos waved a few metallic tentacles in warning. "You should really not. This may be your ship, but those that stare into the Warp, they get stared back at."

"But if we are in real space, it should be safe, right?" I wonder for argument's sake.

"Nowhere is truly safe, silly boy. And inside a Geller field generator, much less so than anywhere else. Even your Blank aura isn't sufficient. When we assemble...well. I better not speak of it. But there's a reason only higher ranked priests can enter them." Gyron continued in a calm tone, while producing a dozen vials of scented oils and incense burners to sanctify the new multilaser.

Normally, I would dismiss such things as superstition or stupidity. Until your own weapon grows fangs and tries to eat you. Sometimes happens, during traveling the warp.

Not so much with sanctified weapons. I still have a scar on my forearm from my first laser pistol that became sentient or maybe emotional. And bit me.

Did I mention how Machine Spirits are made from cloned human tissue? Well, humanity is the Emperor's domain in the Warp. Including the amputated ones.

The Mechanicus have rapidly learned the trick, and have used this knowledge to great effect to protect all their machinery from the warp using human cells and nerves as conduits for the Emperor's protection.

"Emperor protects!" is the most commonly used phrase among humans. Because he really does.

Just not in the mundane world, not unless He raises a Saint or sends the Legion of the Damned to intervene directly.

But those things are so rare that they are myths and legend anyway.

Sometimes I wonder how the Emperor sees me, while under this Blank cover. Then again, I do have humans genes. It's possibly blood-magic or something like that, for a high level entity like the God-Emperor of Mankind.

That Eldar tentacle warp god does kinda the same thing, in reverse. Targeting all Eldars for more excess and shit.

'Stay strong Adam. One day I will reach Terra and try to fix your chair. This galaxy needs you.' I whispered in my mind, watching the familiar gestures of the Mechanicus priest painting my projects with holy oils.

Not too soon though. I still had lots of things to do, out here outside the Empire.

Mentally, I began preparing contingencies for the Forge_World visit, and various trade protocols left behind by my dear grandfather, who seemed to be good friends with the Fabricator-General.

Probably a whole bucket of crap, the famous friendship. But if it worked once, it should work again, as long as I brought nice gifts.