“Talking of Faith,” says Eire, “you’re leaving Owen and Rósín behind as well. Fleet Command is looking pretty thin. That only leaves you with Brigid, Raphael, yourself, and Lonceta.”
I hum, “It’s not ideal, I need Owen to keep an eye on the Iron Foundation and he’s the best person to work on subtle community programs to slowly spread our influence throughout this system. He’s the other half to your economic assault.”
“That’s what I thought, but it’s good to hear you say it.”
I say, “Rósín has a lot of research and development, I mean acquisitions and assimilation, to perform and all her labs are on the Iron Crane; it just isn’t practical to move her entire department and all their families and equipment to Torchbearer. She’s not happy about staying, but she’s often one bad decision away from being branded a heretek. I’d like to keep her close and watch over her, but she’s a lot better than she used to be, so long as I don’t shove thousands of shiny new technologies in her face, which is what would happen if she came with us.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Is JK-404 going to temporarily take over her advisory role?”
“That would be ideal, but it would mean passing over Rósín’s assistants and breaking the system we have set up. Two Fleet Command assistants will be getting temporary posts, I may even rotate them through it so they all get a chance.”
Eire smiles, “Promoting JK-404 would have been poorly received; I should have thought that through more before I suggested it! Who will be replacing me in Stellar Fleet Sol?”
“Me. I’m not the best negotiator. I tend to default to shock and awe, but I have Brigid to keep me on track. We’ll be doing massive trades that require the authority of a Magus so I’m the only valid candidate anyway.”
Eire scoffs, “Snobby buggers not willing to deal with a ‘lowly factotum.’ You can’t know that for sure, but I totally get why you’re leaving me behind. If it wasn’t because I know you so well and the obvious trust you're giving me, I would think this is a massive insult.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I said it was OK, Aldrich. You’d be hearing about it if I was actually pissed at you.”
“Clear communication for the win!”
“That and your artificial cold reading and emotion sensing.”
“I turn that off when I’m talking with my friends and family, and dampen my emotion sensing as best I can.”
“Good.”
I sigh, “I just don’t like always knowing what you’re probably going to say. There’d be no point in talking and who's going to listen to me chatter on if I refuse to do the same!”
“Oh, woe is Aldrich Issengrund, chatbot extraordinaire!”
I laugh, “Moving back to your concerns, Maeve is staying because I’m leaving you with two penal regiments as well as all the Stellar Corps on Iron Crane and our second light cruiser task group. That’s just over five regiments. I’m expecting that the majority of your threats will be external, not the internal ones that Lonceta deals with. I can always lead the Heralds into battle if required and we have the expertise of the Barghest Chapter to draw upon.”
“What about daily administration of the Stellar Corps? I think you should promote one of the assistants for that too. You’ll also need to expand the number of assistants by how many that are being temporarily promoted.”
“Good idea. I’ll do that.”
“I’ll temporarily promote some too, to replace the roles you are taking.” Eire says, “It’s a shame that Thorfinn didn’t want to take up any of the roles. He would have been a good replacement for Owen.”
“He’s involved in his own projects these days,” I say. “After returning to the Fleet he’s been trying to set up the Stellar News Network and create a noosphere channel to air and discuss all the documentaries he made over the last twenty years. Has he shown any of them to you yet?”
“Yes. They’re rather good. How do you think I came to the conclusion that we’re not traditional Imperials?”
“Is that why you came out to chat?”
“A little bit, yeah. I don’t think you deceived us, Aldrich, but few in the Stellar Fleet are dumb. You made sure of that. With Thorfinn’s footage, it’s easy to see the play you’ve been engineering over the last century, setting everything up so that we’re as unobjectionable as possible to Imperial sensibilities, yet also how much better off we are than they are. The contrast in our living conditions is stark.
“The sudden rise in penal regiments was a pretty big clue as well, along with you trying to turn all our psykers into a pseudo Knight House with a revamped armiger that requires a psyker to make the most of its Warp entity protections. Rather like a certain Space Marine chapter we’re totally not supposed to know about. It’s much more difficult to stuff psykers into Blackships if they’re already highly trained and required for a vital, anti-demonic role.”
“It’s the best play that I could think of,” I say. “I don’t want to perpetuate misery, and without the Psy-Errants, the majority of Imperials would have taken one look at Marwolv and turned it to glass without ever setting foot on it to discover its secrets. Knight Houses are one of the few institutions the Imperium trusts almost implicitly because of how the Machine-Spirits alter their pilots.
“A Forge World can’t be touched by Imperial forces without significant repercussions as the Mechanicus police their own, and they aren’t going to carpet bomb Marwolv if I fill it with highly advanced machinery and the people to operate it.
“A Knight House, and Forge World combination, plus extreme remoteness isn’t a perfect shield, but it is better than most. It’s neither yet, thanks to us travelling back in time, but who’s going to bother to check? Especially when it risks messing with the Emperor’s ban on time travel. Much safer just to leave Marwolv alone until it’s supposed to be rediscovered. So long as we keep the route safe, and our origins hidden for as long as possible, the chance of someone messing with the timeline is negligible.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Thank you, Aldrich, for all you have done. It’s nice to have my guess confirmed too. With you leaving, I really didn’t want that hanging over my head.”
“You’re welcome. I think I’ve done an OK job, or so I keep telling myself. I just try to treat people how I wish to be treated,” I shrug. “I’m not perfect at it. I do throw my weight around, sometimes quite obnoxiously. None of that makes me special, just Human. Different concerns, same doubts.”
“Like if you’re not good enough, or if you’re making the right choice?”
“That’s it. The Iron Crane is my home and I’m leaving it behind with half the people that make it a home in the first place. For all I know I’ll get stuck in the Warp for a thousand years and you’ll all be dead by the time I come back. That terrifies me. It’s happened to me once before and taking that risk again because it’s an efficient and logical choice seems incredibly dumb.”
“Walking around in space in your pyjamas is not the act of a sound mind,” Eire sighs. “I’m not sure I would be much better if I was leaving my family behind either.”
“I guess so. I was trying to hide my fear with humour. It works most of the time. Not tonight though. I just feel silly. I’m glad you came out to talk to me.”
“Well, I passed a lot of the new Tech-Priests we’ve assimilated. They were all praying like crazy to an image of you standing on the prow of your ship in your pyjamas. I wasn’t sure who needed help more really, but thought I should start with you. At least I’d see some success there.”
I laugh, then sit up and give Eire a brief hug with one arm, “Thank you.”
“That’s OK.”
A few more minutes pass in silence.
“So are you going to ask me about what I’m worried about or not?” says Eire.
“I am! I was just enjoying the moment and appreciating your presence.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, I turned off my Rapid Decision Engine and with how messed up my sense of time is, a DMC is a bit tricky for me. Seconds or days, a pause in time is much the same to me.”
“DMC?”
“Deep and meaningful conversation.”
Eire smiles, “I think giving a deep and meaningful conversation and acronym ruins the effect somewhat.”
“Eh, it was trendy when I was a kid.”
“So what’s it like walking around in space in a dressing gown?”
“Well, I’m actually trying out something I read in an ancient book and vox show called Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. In that fictional story, the main character is suddenly torn from his home with nothing but his dressing gown, towel, and a pair of slippers.
“It’s not that different from what happened to me, so I fancied putting on the proper attire and trying it for myself. I thought that if I could experience that sense of being unmoored from what is normal and expected, and see that I can manage just fine, it would become true in not just the physical world, but my heart too.”
Eire slaps my shoulder, “You silly man! You’re making me cry and I’m wearing a damn helmet! How am I supposed to wipe my eyes?”
I wave my hand unnecessarily and a barrier appears around Eire’s head, “There, you can remove your helmet now if you’d like.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, you’ll be fine. You’d be fine for a couple of minutes with Voidskin anyway, even if I drop the shield. It would just be really uncomfortable.”
“I suppose I would, wouldn’t I? Alright, I’ll give it a try.”
Eire unseals her helmet, her hands shaking as she does so. As she lifts her helmet off her head her expression fills with wonder.”
“Wow, this is weird. And amazing.”
“See? Doing something strange and seeing the world tick on by anyway really puts one’s worries to rest. Well, maybe not rest, but it gives you the confidence to deal with them. I hope.”
“What else happens to the protagonist in this strange story of yours?”
“He’s the last surviving Human after Old Earth is destroyed by xenos obsessed with bureaucracy.”
“That took a sudden turn for the worse.”
“What other circumstances would have one hitchhiking in a dressing gown?”
“That suddenly makes a lot more sense.”
“There are several different versions of the story. Old Earth gets blown up and replaced a lot. There’s several mishaps involving time travel that inevitably remove Old Earth from existence, a visit to a restaurant at the end of the universe, a ship heist, and an incredibly annoying, depressed, and uncooperative Machine-Spirit.
“All the stories in the series are deliberately as nonsensical and confusing as possible, yet often the story ends with the main character, Arthur Dent, back where he began with nothing but the memories of his experience and nothing else to show for it. Or Old Earth gets destroyed again by incompetent xenos and happenstance. Either way, Arthur Dent is left hanging, towel in hand, his friends and family scattered to the wind, or him feeling separated from them as only he remembers what has occurred.”
“I can see the parallels.”
“Right? I never even noticed until I thought to try spacewalking in a dressing gown. Then I looked through what few references of the story remain and found the whole coincidence quite bizarre.”
“Suddenly my concerns don’t seem so important.”
“Is that a good thing? I wouldn’t want to prematurely congratulate you on tossing them into the void.”
Eire laughs, “I’m still worried that everything will go horribly wrong. We don’t have a good track record for that, even if we do always push through in the end.”
“There you go. It’s not so bad with the light of a red giant on your face, and breathing stardust. I know you’ll do your best, and that’s all I ask. It’s what I expect from myself and what you’ve hoped from me all these years. No need for anything to change now, just because you’re striking out on your own.”
“Yeah, I guess I can handle it after all.”
“So is there anything in particular you are worried about or have we sufficiently meandered through your troubles? I’m not trying to chase you away. We can stay out here and chat as long as you need.”
“Like you said, different concerns, same doubts. I’m pleased that you believe in me. Yes, that’s obvious because otherwise I wouldn’t have the role you’ve given me, and I know that actions mean more than trite words. Still, it helps to have your encouragement. Silly, don’t you think? A grown woman, with decades of experience at her job, looking for validation from her boss: a man who wanders around in colourful shirts and nightwear. In public.”
I wince, then face Eire and look her in the eyes, “Not in the slightest. I brought you to the stars and across the great void of space to new worlds. I present myself to the galaxy as a powerful, knowledgeable entity. You’ve watched me lead the Stellar Fleet for years and now you have to do the same for half of it. Seeking me about for a bit of encouragement is perfectly normal and I am pleased that you did. It tells me that you're thinking about what I’ve asked and expect, and not just assuming you know what you're doing and why.”
“That does make me feel better.”
“Good.”
We sit in the void for another thirty minutes, speaking of less consequential things, like Eire’s family. The dumb things our kids do, and boasting a bit about their achievements.
I sigh, “I just got a radiation warning. Drive me back?”
Eire smirks, “You should have brought a towel.”