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User: Huntmaster Ashram
Command: View Mission Log #90157
Confirm: Yes/No
As the light from the monitor washed over his face, Huntmaster Ashram let his finger hover momentarily above the key that would deliver his assent. He remembered a time when he rarely reviewed his mission logs, even those that included audio-visual recordings such as #90157.
But that had changed over the last two Standard years. These days, Ashram ruminated endlessly over the tasks he’d carried out for His Excellency, Narayana the Starforged Overlord. He pored over the details of his past missions repeatedly, becoming more and more troubled as he unveiled several disturbing common elements within all of them.
Heretics.
Sorcerers.
Void Entities.
Ashram pulled back his hand and stroked his beard. It was white, as the hair upon his scalp would be if he hadn’t kept the latter shaved. A soft sound escaped his lips. It wasn’t deep enough to be a sigh, but it was a vocalization of the worries that plagued his heart, muted though it might be.
He was ashamed of himself for this indulgence. Fortunately, within his quarters aboard the Starforged Frigate Aescha, there was no one else to witness his brief moment of weakness.
I can’t make a habit of this, he thought. I am one of His Excellency’s Huntmasters. I must be unshakeable. Indomitable. Unbreakable.
Ashram reached out to the control panel and tapped the key he’d been hesitant to touch.
Confirmation received…
Mission Log #90157
Overview:
Fifteenth Day of Vlagus, Year 41435
Huntmaster Ashram and Huntress Zaina begin investigation of possible dissident activity in north-eastern sub-sector #3141 on Chedi.
Eighteenth Day of Vlagus, Year 41435
Huntress Zaina obtains incontrovertible proof that all mortals staffing manufactories #9913 through #14572 are plotting a major uprising against Thurrakha, Warden of Chedi.
Governor-Warden Thurrakha mobilizes the full force of his Enforcer regiments and eight hundred mortal battalions to suppress the uprising.
Nineteenth Day of Vlagus, Year 41435
Governer-Warden Thurraka reports that every mortal in manufactories #9913 through #14572 has been slain and that their souls have been delivered to Lord Yamayana’s judgment.
Manufactories #9913 through #14572 are irreparably damaged during the suppression. Mortal casualties from the dissidents and levied battalions are estimated to exceed thirty-five million.
Five hundred Enforcers were killed in action. See appendix alpha-tertius for their full service records.
Twentieth Day of Vlagus, Year 41435
Assassins, presumably survivors of the dissidents’ leadership corps, attack Governor-Warden Thurrakha during his victory parade. They succeed in claiming his life and those of his Honor Guard.
The attack also destroys forty-five percent of Farulla, Chedi’s Capitol City. Mortal casualties are estimated to exceed twenty-three million.
Visual recordings #1 through #5 are available in appendix alpha-pentius.
Huntmaster Ashram and Warmaster Alghu have been tagged in visual recordings #1, #2, and #4
Ashram shook his head. He’d already reviewed the recordings several times, including the ones he’d been in. He didn’t need to see them again, especially not the fourth one.
Nevertheless, he keyed in commands upon his control panel that set it running.
Playing visual recording #4…
The monitor in front of Ashram flickered, before revealing the burning, smoke-wreathed remains of a city block within Farulla. The skies, usually caked with smog, were ablaze with ribbons of atomic fire.
Somehow, the surviving heretics had managed to detonate an archaic fission bomb within the heart of the city. Thurraka had been a Beatific Starforged, previously a Warmaster with B-Stage Empyrean Circuits of the Sun before his ascension to Governorship of Chedi.
He’d survived the nuclear explosion, of course, as did Ashram and Alghu. A fair number of his Honor Guard had as well, since they’d all attained at least C-Stage, with matching Empyrean Circuits of the Sun.
No mortals within thirty miles had… except for the ones who’d set off the bomb themselves.
In the monitor, they walked through the aftermath of the destruction, their frail bodies wreathed in poisoned flames, their bones and limbs all but powdered or vaporized. But they were still alive, the impossibility of their existence indelibly captured by one of the many shielded spy-drones scattered across Farulla’s streets.
Ashram watched for the umpteenth time as the burning bodies of the mortals fused together into a single massive conflagration, from which something emerged.
It had been more than twenty feet tall, with dozens of claw-tipped arms sprouting from the misshapen honeycomb of twisted bones that had been its torso. A featureless, humanoid head stood upon its shoulders. Flames wreathed its entire body.
Starforged archives classified this creature as a Sovereign Infernal, amongst the deadliest Void Entities to have ever made recorded manifestations within the Ghandarna System.
Ashram had been there, holding Gleam Wrath—his Aetheric Weapon—high in readiness to do battle, but Thurraka and his Honor Guard had charged ahead. Thurraka had been C-Stage like Ashram, but the former Warmaster had grown arrogant and complacent in his years as Chedi’s Governor-Warden.
The Sovereign Infernal had torn him and his Honor Guard to shreds in the blink of an eye, leaving Ashram to face the creature alone.
The next thirty minutes in the visual recording depicted Ashram’s desperate running battle against the Sovereign Infernal. In the final moments of the recording, Ashram had struck the Void Entity down, allowing Alghu, who’d rather conveniently appeared just in time, to deliver the finishing blow.
End of recording #4. Replay?
Sorcery. There’s no other explanation, Ashram thought, rubbing his jaw. But in the middle of a Capital City, where the aegis of His Excellency’s Ramari would be at its strongest?
It made no sense. The Ramari, nano-machines built by Narayana himself, suffused the entire Ghandarna System. They resided in the air, water, and even the blood of every living mortal and Starforged, and they kept the Void at bay, preventing its ethereal influence and the malignant creatures within its depths from manifesting within the material world.
The more Ramari there were, the less likely any sorcery could take place or any Void Entity would appear.
Ramari are drawn to His Excellency’s subjects, be they mortal or Starforged, and Farulla is… no, was one of the most densely populated cities in the entire Empire. Ashram leaned back in his heavily upholstered chair. The strongest sorcery that could have taken place anywhere within city limits shouldn’t have amounted to much more than mere carnival tricks, such as flashing lights or floating balls. Did something happen to the Ramari in Farulla?
There was no way of verifying that, not in the aftermath of the widespread destruction that had befallen the Capital City. The Ramari scans that Ashram had ordered shortly after the disaster all reported normal saturation levels throughout the planet. It was a shame neither Thurraka nor any of his lackeys had conducted any Ramari scans during the events leading up to the mortal revolt.
It was also a shame that doing so hadn’t occurred to Ashram himself, too. Missives from the Starforged Court had cleared him of all blame. After all, the dictates of his station and the parameters of his assigned mission hadn’t extended beyond the verification of dissident activity.
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He wouldn’t have known to suspect that sorcery would be a factor, or so his direct superior, Huntlord Barathu, had claimed.
But I should have, especially after the missions of the last two years, Ashram thought. Most of them have involved mortal dissidents and heretics, and most of the latter have counted sorcerers among their number. Just in the last year alone, I’ve had to dispatch at least ten Void Entities.
Of course, none of the ones that had fallen to Ashram’s Gleaming Wrath had come close to the Sovereign Infernal’s power. Neither had they wreaked nearly as much carnage. Still, the commonalities were present.
Heretics.
Sorcery.
Void Entities.
Ashram made a mental note to himself to conduct Ramari scans the next time he was assigned to the rooting out of mortal dissidents and heretics.
As Ashram dismissed the mission log, a thought occurred to him. The very same set of missives that had arrived from the Starforged Court absolving him of blame had also appointed Alghu as Interim Governor-Warden.
Ashram dismissed the sour notion. He and several other Huntmasters had conducted many investigations into Alghu’s conduct over the last century, and they’d all uncovered nothing, apart from Alghu’s preening arrogance and his penchant for casual cruelty toward mortals.
The former was the Warmaster’s prerogative, while the latter was his rightful entitlement as a high-ranking Starforged of His Excellency’s Court.
No, Alghu was not involved with sorcery or Void Entities. He was the one who’d ultimately slain the Sovereign Infernal and earned his promotion. If the Interim Governor-Warden of Chedi ever did step out of line, the Huntmaster currently assigned to him would see to his swift deposal and punishment.
That wouldn’t be Ashram. He had a new mission, one assigned by Huntlord Barathu himself.
He rose from his chair. Sensors built into its armrests whirred as they detected his absence. The chair folded itself up and slid into a panel built into the marble floor.
His terminal logged him out, its monitor shutting down and its control panels going dormant.
Ashram walked across all forty feet of his private quarters’ length, paying little heed to the tapestries and paintings mounted upon the wood-paneled walls. They were affectations and luxurious indulgences of Aescha’s Captain, an eccentric Starforged Astralmaster named Vahn, who’d been seconded to Ashram for the last ten missions.
As he approached the quartz-framed door, Ashram took a moment to study his reflection in the mirror mounted onto a nearby section of the wall. He was a Starforged, which meant he stood taller than even the tallest of mortals and carried more muscle upon his torso and limbs than any mortal could ever hope to have.
His bones were as hard as raw steel, and the redundancies built into his internal organs allowed him to survive even the raw vacuum of open space. Thanks to his Excellency’s biochemical genius, the enrichments in Ashram’s blood rendered him impervious to aging and disease.
And then there were the Empyrean Circuits and his Starforged Core, which granted him power that mortals—and even lesser Starforged—could only perceive of as godlike.
Ashram checked the settings of his blue-scaled MK. VIII Ravenwing Tactical Powered Armor, which was sleeker and more form-fitting than the golden plate he used to wear in his early days as an I-Stage Enforcer. He found nothing amiss, so he glanced down at Gleaming Wrath, a foot-long rod of crystal, which sat snugly in its harness belted to his hip.
A long time ago, His Excellency had personally gifted the weapon to Ashram. Ashram closed his eyes and muttered a brief prayer of praise and gratitude to the Starforged Overlord, knowing that his worship would be captured by the Ghandarna Engine and used to maintain order and rightfulness in the Empire.
The doors to his private quarters hissed open. He emerged from them into a lushly carpeted hallway, one of many in Aescha’s executive suites, which were reserved only for the Frigate’s Captain, senior mates, and privileged guests like Ashram…
…and his Huntress, Zaina, who was already waiting for him outside his room. She was a tall Starforged woman, standing several inches above even Ashram’s nine-foot-three frame. Zaina wore Ravenwing Tactical Powered Armor too, and she had a short, curved blade belted to her hip and a long, straight sword strapped across her back.
The latter was an Aetheric Weapon called Azure Fang. It had been a gift from Methari, Zaina’s former Huntmaster. Azure Fang wasn’t nearly as powerful as Gleaming Wrath, but it was still a potent weapon, nevertheless.
“Huntmaster,” Zaina said, raising her right fist to her chest in a traditional salute. “I have inspected the strike force. They are… adequate. However, they have insisted that the honor of the First Strike belongs to them, not you.”
“That is my standing arrangement with Astralmaster Vahn,” Ashram reminded Zaina. “He wants to give the warriors answering ample opportunities to earn merit and win advancement. The caveat he has allowed me is that I will intervene if the strike force sustains eight percent or above casualties.”
“It is a wasteful arrangement, Huntmaster,” Zaina objected. “A Starforged’s life is precious beyond measure. Yet, Vahn’s warriors are eager to throw theirs away in pursuit of glory.”
“That is Astralmaster Vahn to you, Huntress Zaina,” Ashram said, smiling patiently. “I am not a stickler for rank, as you know, but some are. Being attentive to their… preferences can only help you improve your own rank.”
Zaina opened her mouth, ready to voice another protest, but Ashram chuckled softly and shook his head, disarming her words before they passed through her lips.
“Yes, ideally and by written law, our promotions stem only from the extent of our service to His Excellency and his Court,” he said. “But in the real world, to some degree…”
“It’s whom you know,” Zaina finished for him. “You’ve mentioned this to me before, Huntmaster. My apologies. From this point on, I will strive to be more mindful of your teachings and more diligent in their implementation.”
“You already are as mindful and as diligent as anyone could be, Huntress Zaina. I am honored to mentor you now, and when the time comes, I will be more than honored to sponsor your ascension to the rank of Huntmistress.”
“Hopefully by then, the Court will have seen fit to bring my Core to C-Stage too, like yours,” Zaina blurted, before realizing the bluntness of her words and slapping an armored hand over her own mouth.
“All in due time.” Ashram clasped Zaina briefly on the shoulder. “Now, I believe we have a meeting with Astralmaster Vahn. Let us go, so that we don’t keep him waiting.”
“Yes, Huntmaster.” Zaina bowed, before gesturing down the hallway. “After you, sir.”
Ashram and Zaina strode through the hallways joining the executive suites, before emerging into the lower decks of Aescha, which sported walls and pathways of stark synthsteel and woven plastic instead of wood paneling and velvet carpets.
Away from the clouds of sandalwood incense suffusing the executive suites, the familiar scents and odors of shipboard life came to Ashram: engine oil, metal, coolant, and the none-too-pleasant bouquet emanating from the thousands of mortals living and working within the confines of a Starforged Frigate.
Four thousand menials, two thousand generalist crew, a thousand specialists, and eight hundred shipboard officers, Ashram thought, nodding his in polite acknowledgement of the startled salutes two maintenance engineers threw his way as he walked past them toward the main elevator platform. Before the Rebellion, Starforged ships didn’t rely so heavily on mortal crew. Things are different these days. There just aren’t enough of us to go around.
He glanced briefly over his shoulder at Zaina, who was following him from the traditional deferential distance of five feet. She’s young, only sixty years into her service. She doesn’t remember how things used to be. Perhaps that is for the best, in more ways than one.
The main elevator platform was dozens of feet wide and nearly a hundred feet long. When Ashram and Zaina arrived, it was bustling with mortals and a panoply of service vehicles and tool-carts. Their voices formed a discordant chorus that echoed within the confines of the synthsteel walls. They waved their hands and gesticulated as they spoke, their eyes brimming with vitality and… life.
Ashram sometimes wondered whether if when he was mortal, hundreds of years ago, he too had been so exuberant. Channeling a small amount of Quiessence into his Empyrean Circuits of the Sun, he listened in on a conversation between two gantry welders about their wives and children back on Anava. Listening in on an engineer’s ramblings, he learned by heart a recipe for shipboard moonshine. A quartet of gunnery technicians went on and on about a bootleg screen-drama they’d been watching during their off-duty hours.
A smile tugged at the corner of Ashram’s mouth. And then it faded.
“Clear the way, mortals! Huntmaster Ashram is here!” Zaina thundered, using the speakers built into the collar of her armor to project her words. “Clear the way!”
Complete silence fell over the platform within an instant. A path to the main elevator opened up. Every mortal turned his or her gaze downward, afraid to look upon the Starforged in their midst. Some even fell to their knees.
Ashram suppressed his urge to sigh and walked quickly to the elevator. He knew better than to try and say anything to set the mortals at ease. An engineer helpfully pressed the open switch and kept it depressed as Ashram and Zaina approached the first elevator car.
“Thank you,” he said to the engineer. She trembled and muttered some gibberish, her eyes glued tightly to the tips of her boots.
Ashram stepped into the elevator. Zaina followed him.
“We could have gone through walkway nineteen. It’s reserved for Starforged,” she said. “That would have saved us some time.”
“Yes, it would have,” Ashram agreed. “But I still wanted to come this way.”
Astralmaster Vahn was on Aescha’s bridge, strapped and plugged into his command throne. He was a large man, even for a Starforged, and he wore his long, dark hair in an intricate braid that reached past his shoulder-blades. A violet robe sheathed his body. Jeweled rings decorated his fingers.
Three Starforged Astralpaths manned stations around him, their Empyrean Circuits of the Moon glowing as they oversaw the minutiae of the Frigate’s functions.
At least seventy mortals worked on the bridge too. Thirty of them were security armsmen, carrying shotguns and clad in olive-hued carapace suits. The rest formed a tide of activity around the array of terminals, monitors, and control panels strewn across the bridge.
Ashram strode to the front of Vahn’s throne and bowed deeply to the Astralmaster. Zaina echoed his gesture.
“Twenty hours to arrival,” Vahn said, affecting a languid tone, even though his brightly glowing Empyrean Circuits of the Moon told Ashram that he was overseeing the tens of thousands of calculations and calibrations needed to keep Aescha on course. “You already know this, but Domius is joining us. Astralmaster Peghara really wants in on this mission, for some reason.”
“It is of great import,” Ashram said.
“Oh, definitely.” Vahn frowned. “Loremaster Maruti, eh? We’ve finally tracked him down. How we did so beats me, though.”
“You know as much as I do,” Ashram said, giving Vahn a meaningful look that told him in no uncertain terms that certain topics were not to be discussed amongst mortals, even those trusted to work on Aescha’s bridge.
Word had come in from an unknown source about Loremaster Maruti’s whereabouts. Scout-drones had then verified that information.
And now Ashram was bringing a Starforged Frigate and a Starforged Carrier to apprehend Maruti and bring him to the Court’s justice.
Vahn rolled his eyes and waved a heavily ringed hand dismissively. “Fine, fine. Anyway, let’s just get this over with. Where was I? Ah, yes. Twenty hours to arrival. You have my blessing to bring ten of my warriors to battle. May His Excellency bless and guide us from afar, Huntmaster Ashram. For Ghandarna.”
“For Ghandarna.” Ashram and Zaina said, pressing their right fists to their chests.
“Great.” Vahn grunted and shuffled in his throne. “We could have just done the Rite of Battle over a comms-screen, you know? There’s no need for you to come in person.”
“I do know.” Ashram smiled. “But I wanted to, anyway.”
“You’re lucky I like you so much, Ashram,” Vahn said, clicking his tongue irritably. “Or I would have had you tossed out of an airlock already. Anyway, let’s go over the very simple plan. You and ten of my people go get Maruti. Your Huntress hangs back in your personal ship and waits to hear from you. Does that cover everything?”
“It does.” Ashram saluted Vahn again. “I will leave you to your duties now, Astralmaster Vahn.”
“Hold on.” Vahn scratched his cheek. The Empyrean Circuits of Moon upon his temple flared brightly. “I don’t like this, Ashram. This is Maruti we’re talking about. It can’t be as simple as just waltzing in and grabbing him. What do you think we’ll find at his secret base?”
“I don’t know,” Ashram replied. “But we will find out.”