David stands and raises his cup, “To wealth and the Emperor.”

We all follow suit, “For the Emperor!”

Everyone drinks from their cup as I send a warning that trouble is about to erupt to Brigid, Odhran, and Eohgan, as well as Bedwyr on my shuttle and Dathi back on Iron Crane. I also lock down the banquet hall, securing the doors and vents, and blocking all communications other than my own.

As enzymes do their work on the xeno flora at an almost unreal pace, the masticated plant matter is forcefully digested and turns into a powerful soporific. Mattius, Mildred, Raphael, and Lyre all collapse. I could have shattered the glasses with telekinesis, but I prefer to leave no witnesses, or avoid dealing with people, whose reactions in a crisis are unknown to me.

“Well, that was a decent try,” I say.

All of a sudden, many things happen at once. I detect Sciéno drawing on the Warp and trigger my displacement field, teleporting right next to Sciéno. A mechadendrite strikes her, far too fast for an unaugmented human to react. However, she starts moving out of the way before the mechadendrite even twitches. It isn’t good enough though and I punch her in the jaw, disorientating her long enough for the mechadendrite to adjust its path and injecting her with a sedative.

Meanwhile, Brigid backflips over her chair, spins one hundred and eighty degrees while in the air, and sprints towards Odhran and Eogan who thunder forward from their spot by the walls, to flank and protect her.

The servers all react at the same time, their jewellery morphing into blades as they charge my party. I seize control of the turrets and other hidden defences and shoot the servers, a few of them manage to dodge the spitting tarantula turrets, but most are eviscerated by hundreds of bolter rounds that sweep across the room, smashing ancient artworks and sending petals and glass absolutely everywhere.

Sciéno loses control of her spell, sending a wave of lighting outwards in a waist high disk. David, who is right next to her and is raising his hand towards me, is immediately struck down and killed by the blast, as are the remaining servers.

The failed spell fizzles on my shields and wards leaving me entirely untouched. The other guests and my party are less fortunate. Mildred and Mattius are killed, while Brigid, Odhran, and Eoghan are struck badly. Brigid’s conversion shield takes the brunt of the blast, and her electoo wards activate, illuminating thousands of tiny runes all over her Void Skin.

Brigid is struck rigid and she shrieks as the remaining Warp energy ravages her body, leaving horrible burns, her Pain Ward unable to shield her mind entirely from the corrupting energy. Brigid, however, does not fall.

Odhran and Eoghan’s armour locks up from the blast and their own electoos and transhuman physique keeps them conscious and functional.

All three are only disabled for a couple of seconds, but it is still dangerous as all of the theatre troupe jump from the sphere, passing the gravity fields holding them upside down, and firing familiar weapons at all the internal defences I hijacked.

A golden light bursts from an unknown device beneath hanging around Raphael and Lyre’s necks, shielding them from the Warp lightning and leaving them unharmed.

I try to take down the theatre troupe but they shred through the defences in seconds. An arcane weaving, far beyond my understanding, shunts every round slightly off target, just enough that their impressive acrobatics let them dodge every round.

As the guns fall silent, the actor with a horned mask holsters his pistol and holds out his hand, “Peace Magos, I wish to negotiate.”

Odhran and Eoghan’s exo-frame recovers and they are able to move again. Both immediately take aim at the masked individual.

I hold up my arm, “Hold fire.”

The Space Marines obey, for once, and the rest of the troupe lower their pistols, but do not holster them. The Space Marines do not lower their guns and I don’t bother asking them to.

“Please wait while I tend to the wounded. Do not move.”

“Agreed, Magos.”

I rush to Brigid, taking care not to obstruct Odhran and Eoghan’s line of fire. I draw from the Warp and place my hand on her face, using biokinesis to erase the worst of the damage at the cost of her muscle mass.

While I heal Brigid, I contact Bedwyr and order him to assault Ardent Bane, especially the bridge and genetorium, and if possible, capture Captain Konrad von Benagune. The local tech-priests are trying and failing to recover control of the systems within the banquet hall. One of my minds quickly locates them, subsuming their access and authority to seize control of all communications within the ship.

I can’t acquire the external coms from here though as it’s on a separate network, nor interfere with the doors, life support, or power. I tie Bedwyr and my bodyguard company into Ascendant Bane’s vox network, and some of its noosphere, so that my forces can stay in contact with the shuttle, my Fleet, and myself as the assault teams advance through the vessel.

Brigid says, “Thanks Aldrich.”

“Don’t bother with us, Magos,” says Odhran. “We shall not fall.”

I double check the biomonitor on their armour. The damage is bad on both of them, with burns on their organs, but the life support system is working fine, having just restarted both their hearts, and is now slowly healing the marines. It will take days before they are better, but they aren’t in any immediate danger.

I run back to David and grab his body, then drag it towards Mattius and Mildred. Nanites seep from my skin and flow into Mattius and Mildred. Their brains are still active, so I keep them healthy with my nanites.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Meanwhile, my mechadendrites rapidly loot David’s corpse, stripping him of his jewellery, a digi-weapon on his finger, and a null box. His clothes are shredded and I remove his arms, placing one arm each on Mattius and Mildred.

Yes, I could save David too, but he just tried to knock me and Brigid out. I can’t steal his warrant if he’s living either.

I use the power field in my hands to cut through Mattius’s clothes and, holding the severed arm, draw away the biomass and use it to partially heal Mattius’s body. He’ll need a couple of weeks in a tank to heal him properly and remove the borrowed flesh, but it is enough to get his heart and lungs started.

After repeating the procedure on Mildred, I carry both patients to Brigid, then also carry Raphael and Lyre to her as well. The Navy officers are fine, just unconscious. I am tempted to look at the device that protected them, but decide ignorance may better serve me here. It felt like they were protected by the Emperor’s light and I have no desire to get involved if I don’t have to.

My work done, I approach the masked individual. I freeze as a psychic working unravels from my own mind, one I hadn’t noticed, that was stopping me from putting all the clues together.

Three minds stop what they’re doing to swear repeatedly for a subjective minute.

“Greetings, Solitaire,” I say. “For what reason has an Avatar of the Laughing God engaged in communications with Adeptus Mechanicus at this local moment in time, space, and circumstance?”

“You do the Aeldari proud with your careful words, Magos.” His voice is flat, and no hint of emotion bubbles off his mind.

“I enjoyed your performance on the stage above, though seeing so many Harlequin Kisses pointed in my direction brought me no joy. Which troupe does the endless dance that you have joined follow?”

“Light, Dark, Twilight. All are within the purview of the Laughing God. It is not for you to question where and how the Harlequins perform.”

“I ask a second time. What do you want?”

“The lost Drukari at your feet.”

Considering that psychic power use is banned in Commorragh, a Drukari psyker is unimaginably rare. It also explains why she was slumming it with a Rogue Trader as she would be banned from her home port. Drukari psykers are also at much greater risk of having their soul nabbed by Slaneesh every time they use their psychic powers than a standard Eldar psyker, so Sciéno must know or possess something of immense value to the Eldar to resist her constant corruption.

“What will you give me?”

“We will depart without further violence to you and yours and no Harlequin will obstruct the Stellar Fleet and Stellar Corps for a century and we will strongly discourage other Aeldari from doing the same, so long as you are not the one who is picking a fight. We will also aid you one time, in battle only, against a foe you cannot defeat alone.”

Considering how many foes there are like that, it isn’t quite as ominous as it might sound.

“Why do you want her?”

“That is not part of the proposed deal.”

So, he will likely tell me if I pay, but there’s probably a hidden cost as well.

“Then how about a ballad of her deeds?”

“You have already plundered the Machine-Spirits within this room and the rest will soon be yours as well. You will have the evidence you require to satisfy the bureaucratic beast you Monkeigh so love to feed, so long as you are quick.”

I grimace, he’s suggesting I am wasting time and I probably am. There might be orders to purge databanks if the ship looks like it will be captured.

“I agree to your deal. Take the Drukari and go in peace.”

For a moment, something vast and horrifyingly powerful looks out from the Solitaire’s eyes, “Farewell, Magos Issengrund.”

I shiver and blink. The Harlequins are gone, as is Sciéno Ceasterwyrt. Really, I’m embarrassed I didn’t notice my mind was being fogged earlier. Who calls themselves ‘beautiful as an elf’ in old English with ‘Black Hellebore’ for a surname and expects to get away with it?

Still, I can’t believe I met a Solitaire! I’m really glad I didn’t have to fight them. They’re similar to Custodes in the role and skill, with a high chance of being a powerful psyker with thousands of years of experience in keeping their soul from Slaanesh.

They were clearly prepared for today and I don’t know what sort of arcane items they might have had up their decorative sleeves that could one shot me into another dimension. I certainly couldn’t have won and protected my retinue from them at the same time.

I return to Brigid and say, “We’re returning to the shuttle with the wounded.”

“Fine by me,” says Brigid.

“I’ll carry Mattius and Mildred,” I say as I pump nanites into Raphael and Lyre, “The Navy officers can walk.”

Raphael and Lyre’s eyes begin to flutter and I inject them both with a tiny dose of combat stimulant, mostly adrenaline, a mild painkiller, and some Klay, which is the only Imperial combat stim that I know of that doesn’t have horrible side effects. Klay sharpens the senses and improves recall.

I say, “Give them some space, but be ready to grab them if they over react.”

Lyre sits up, “I’m fine Magos. No need to coddle me.” He blinks, “Klay?”

Ah, the little squirrel Machine-Spirit told him, “Enough for thirty minutes. We are evacuating to my shuttle.”

Lyre grunts, “Fine.”

Raphael groans, then flips himself upright and adopts a boxing stance. He moves his head from side to side, his eyes widening slightly at all the carnage, then he relaxes a bit, though I can see his hands are shaking slightly.

“Attention,” I say, “I will be taking the centre position with Brigid and the two unconscious individuals.” I drape Mattius and Mildred on my shoulders and hold them in place with a mechadendrite each. “Commodore Horthstien, Adjunct Hamiz, you will walk either side of Brigid and I. Eoghan and Odhran, please give your phosphor stubbers and spare mags to the Navy officers, then take point and rear. Brigid will deal with doors. I will disable internal defences, or warn you when I cannot. Silent vox communication only beyond these doors. We are going to run to the shuttle.

“Rules of engagement are to disable anyone who tries to stop us, kill anyone who points a weapon at us, and ignore everyone else. Ideally we will bluff our way past everything that we can. I have control of internal communications within Ardent Bane, but they could find a way to take them back at any time, or send couriers, so we must be quick. Questions?”

“What happened while we were unconscious?” says Raphael.

“I’ll tell you on the way to the shuttle.”

“Any reinforcements?” says Lyre.

I send a quick message to Bedwyr and receive an affirmative.

“Eight squads are already on the way,” I say, “One hundred and twenty Heralds, elite infantry.”

“Good,” says Lyre, “I have no more questions.”

I wait a moment but no one says anything, “I am going to mesh our MIUs and HUDs. Horthstein, as you do not have ocular implants, you will feel a slight tug in your thoughts, as if something is trying to get your attention. This is me pinging your MIU to show you where we need to go. If you get a sudden feeling of existential dread, hit the deck or get into cover. I will shout a warning as well. The others, including Hamiz, will get visual updates for threats and directions.”

I point to an alcove near the main door of the banquet hall. “We are taking the service corridors. I can’t access their cameras, so we’re going blind. Execute.”