I say, “Thank you, Hattie. Are you feeling a little better now?”

“Yes, sir. Here are your meals. I wish you good luck.”

I laugh, “I can see that your fellow barmaids are getting a little overwhelmed with orders. I’ll call you if we need anything else”

“Yes, sir.” Hattie leaves. The other two workers give her grateful smiles, even though they are showing signs of fatigue.

I scan and test each of the meals with a mechadendrite and immediately turn all the Imperial Guard ones to dust with my nanties.

“Wow, they’re that bad?” says Luan.

“Corpse starch, improperly processed, containing traces of the poisons that were used to gas the people who make up the meal.”

“Fuck that’s nasty,” says Dareaca. “No wonder those guardsmen traded them away. I guess they didn’t want to eat their friends.”

“No shit!” says Alpia. “I know you tell us not to waste food, Dad, but I’m not going to call you a hypocrite for breaking your own rules this time!”

I poke Alpia in her ribs where she is slightly ticklish and she yelps. Her brothers laugh.

“Dad, stop that!”

I push my locally produced meal over to Fial, “Here, you can have mine. You each have one now.”

“Thanks, Dad,” says Fial, “or maybe I should curse you? Are the local ones OK?”

“Yes, all plant based. A mix of dried fungus and vegetables, with a mix of artificial micro-nutrients. It’s a proper ration with everything your body needs. The IG meals were the same, but they had everything a Human body needed because that’s what they were made from. I would hesitate to feed them to a grox, let alone my kids.”

“Dad, I think you’ve made Hattie rather scared,” says Alpia. “I’m going to go over and let her know no one is going to throw a tantrum. The packets were labelled with machine code and didn’t have a proper ingredients list. There’s no way she could have known.”

“That’s thoughtful of you. Go ahead.” I hand Alpia some more thrones, “Get us a round of those Ruby Cogs too, or whatever else you kids fancy.”

“OK!”

Dareaca smirks, “Are you having a liquid lunch, Dad?”

“Yes,” I say, with a totally straight face. “How do your meals compare to the field rations you ate on Cobalt?”

“Well, they actually taste of something and aren’t a slightly sweet and salty goop,” says Fial. “We couldn’t take our helmets off while in the field Dad, there was no oxygen down there and the air would have frozen our lungs!”

“Right, I forgot you guys still have to breathe.”

“That makes you the weird one, not us!” says Luan.

“Hmm, sure.”

Dareaca says, “So are we doing the puzzle and treasure hunt?”

“Absolutely, but only if the four of you can crack the encryption. I’ve already downloaded the files. It’s way above what you’ve been taught, I will point you at the texts you need to read and you can use my lab’s cogitators. If you can’t get it in a month, we can try when I get back.”

“That’s at least twenty-five years, Dad!” says Fial. “There’s no way someone else won’t get it by then. Are you really going to risk losing on a whole cruiser, just to have a treasure hunt with us?”

“Absolutely.”

“That’s kinda dumb,” says Dareaca. “Sweet, but dumb. Now I know why Mum married you and also why she’s so stressed all the time.”

“Oi,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.

Dareaca says, “I’m just joking, Dad. I know you would let her quit at any time, or do her work for her if she asks, but she has her pride and got her role because she is good at it. The only person she would disappoint if she gave up is herself, and when you have a chance to live for hundreds, possibly thousands of years, that’s a long time to brood on your regrets and linger without purpose.

“It’s hard to criticise Mum for her choices when we can see ourselves doing exactly the same thing. If anything, I admire Mum for being so tenacious and hope I can see it through the first time I face a rough patch, and all the others that will inevitably follow.”

I say, “I’m really happy and impressed to hear you say that.”

“I’m still going to exaggerate about what an awesome time we had today when I see her tonight though,” Dareaca says.

“That’s perfectly acceptable,” I say, somewhat amused.

Alpia returns with a tray of drinks, sits down, and reheats her food by drawing on the Warp slightly and blowing hot air on it, each time she takes a spoonful.

“That’s very subtle,” I say. “You’ve improved a lot. I still don’t approve of using such dangerous energies for mundane tasks though.”

“You used to make us fly around the bedroom for fun!” Alpia says.

“Or grab us with telekinesis when we wouldn’t stop running about the apartment,” says Luan.

I clear my throat, “Well, I suppose you are old and skilled enough now to know what you are doing.”

Alpia says, “Damn right I am. Besides, this is actually a really good way to practise. Constant vigilance! And all that.”

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I receive a vox from Bedwyr and sigh, “We need to leave in two minutes kids. Some cultists are coming out to play and they’re all chanting for my death. Calling me God-Eater is a bit dramatic though. The Heralds aren’t having any trouble cutting them down, but let’s not hang about, eh?”

“What about the people here?” says Alpia. She starts shovelling her food into her mouth and downing her drink.

“I’ll have Bedwyr station a squad here to guard the place until Maeve has had a chance to sweep the Receiving Yards.”

Dareaca says, “Won’t that cause trouble with the Syndicates and their security? I thought you didn’t want to mess with the status quo too much.”

“I do not, but if they get in the way of purging cultists, they will be treated like cultists. Besides, I will literally be doing their job for them at no cost, other than a hit to their prestige. If they’re too dumb to take that deal and spin it in their favour, they don’t deserve the positions they hold.”

Luan laughs, “You always give zero shits, Dad.”

I shrug, “I don’t poop.”

“And I finished my meal just in time,” says Dareaca, his face twisting in disgust. “You lot ready?”

“One sec,” says Fial, chugging his cocktail. “Alright. I’m done. This place is actually pretty great. Let’s come here again.”

“Sure,” says Luan. “I’m game. Alright Dad, we’re ready. Lead us out.”

We return to Iron Crane under close escort and don’t actually see or hear any fighting. Bedwyr stands next to me, giving out a stream of orders as we move through the maze of buildings, airlocks, and lifts. Occasionally, squads of Heralds race past in the opposite direction, often mounted on Cyber Mastiffs. There aren’t many Mastiff Riders in my bodyguard company, so Bedwyr must have called reinforcements and this is more serious than it appears.

By the time we reach the shuttle, Chimeras and Vanguard Armour have been deployed around our docking spar. My sensors let me see beneath Bedwyr’s helmet and he looks incredibly pleased, so I let him do his job while deploying my advanced E-WAR suite to hack the void station.

I compile the data and feed extra information to the Heralds that need it, filling their helmets and implants with overlays of enemies waiting in ambush, picking out who is armed and giving them a threat rating, and other useful information. I’m not giving orders, just information, and let the Heralds use it as they please. If anything, I’m acting on a similar level to an GAI, and isn’t that a scary thought?

I also start locking down doors and lifts, so that only the Heralds can move about freely. This is going to piss off absolutely everyone on the station, but it is too useful not to do.

We do have our own infiltrators, but they are not as fast as I am and are all assigned to defence at the moment after our experience with the Inquisition. We hadn’t expected a need for combat infiltration of Imperial data systems, nor are they set up to coordinate with the Heralds at the moment, like I am doing. An irritating oversight that we will need to fix.

I also contact each of the liaisons we have been assigned by the local forces and update them. I don’t ask for permission, I just tell them what is happening and what we are doing about it. Re-feathering their plucked prides can wait until after the cultists have been put down.

Next, I grab control of every announcement system that I can, warning everyone to hide in a secure location and that the Mechanicus are putting down a riot. I also advise the inhabitants that shooting at my troops will result in retaliations and that they should put down weapons when asked.

I also add that a week’s worth of high quality rations and drinks will be provided to everyone who cooperates and that further rioting will not result in further generosity.

Yes, that is going to utterly devastate our reserves, but it will also let us perform a census on the station under the guise of giving out supplies, helping us find who has the skills and knowledge that we will need. It will also get a headstart on building goodwill and support, while heavily discouraging any further discontent.

Although I do not announce it now, I will even take the chance to start issuing bytes for those who would rather cash in their reward later, offering more if they don’t take everything at once. A rather sneaky way to get the Stellar Fleet’s currency into the station, though I honestly do not expect many people to accept the offer as they have no guarantee the Stellar Fleet will keep their word. We don’t have a reputation here yet.

Once we dock with Iron Crane I wrap all my kids in a hug, “There. You’re all safe now.”

“Thanks, Dad,” says Dareaca. “Unnecessary, but welcome.”

“I feel bad that other people are fighting for us while we’re in the Heralds too,” Luan says.

Fial shrugs, “The joys of being off duty. If the riots are still going on tomorrow, we’ll likely be standing guard somewhere fairly safe, we might even have to clear a few areas of the yards if we’re caught slacking off, so we will have to be extra attentive and keep our boots shiny.”

“Ha! I will not be so lucky. If it’s cultists, I will be stomping around in my Vanguard Armour. Hopefully it won’t be so bad that Róisín has to back me up in her Armiger Warglaive.”

I say, “Alright, my brave soldiers, that’s enough boasting. Best to iron your uniforms and get some rest.”

“Lame, Dad,” says Luan.

I flick Luan’s head pretty hard, sending his head snapping back and he staggers back a couple of steps.

“I’m serious,” I say. “Dead is dead and there’s not much I can do about it, so don’t fuck up or take it lightly.”

Well, that’s not true, but recovery and resurrection is not guaranteed either, nor can I afford it right now.

Luan rubs his forehead, “Damn that stings. You nearly gave me a concussion.”

I say, “A cultist will do far worse.”

“Dad has a point,” says Dareaca. “We should take this more seriously. Just because our gear is good enough that only heavy weapons or witchcraft have a chance of killing us, doesn’t mean that the enemy doesn’t have heavy weapons and psykers.

Luan sighs, “Yeah. OK. I will take it seriously. Sorry, Dad. I really should know better after fighting the Orks. They were pretty scary.”

I nod, “A little humour and pride is fine, even necessary, to keep your spirits high. That little sore spot on your head will be a fine reminder if you start daydreaming on watch though.”

“Why only me!” says Luan.

“You were being rude.”

“And you were treating us like kids.”

“You are my kids.”

“Give it up,” says Dareaca. “Dad isn’t going to bend on this and he can plot a thousand ways to win every argument with each breath that we take.”

I chuckle, “Then you’d best earn those cybernetics while doing your apprenticeships. You’ll need them once I get you those navy commissions.”

“What, they won’t help us win against you?” says Alpia.

“Not a chance, lady Alpia.” I say.

The boys laugh.

“Yeah, you heard it, peons. It’s official. I’m a lady.”

Fial smirks, “Technically we’re all nobility.”

“Dunno about that,” says Luan. “I like to keep my stick to arse ratio as low as possible.”

Dareaca clicks his fingers, “So that’s why they all have a stiff upper lip.”

“That or moustache wax,” says Luan.

“Only for the ladies,” says Dareaca.

Alpia says, “Ewww.”

“Good job that everyone gets Void Skin then,” says Fial. “No body hair for anyone, just luscious locks of heatsinks and antenna posing as perfectly sculpted eyebrows.”

From there, the conversation derails faster than a train crash.

Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve my kids.