The infiltration party came back to the material world in the belly of
Mishkin's Pride. They all looked like true heroes returning home from a
victorious battle, except for Kevin, who clutched his hands over his stomach
and looked like he needed a bucket, quick.
"How I hate that..." he choked silently.
The sharp eyes amongst the Tech-Priests noticed that they were fewer
than they had been when they'd left. But being as they were, they made no
attempt to remark upon this. However, Admiral Ourmnoff remarked on this, and
with a loud voice to boot.
"She what?" he shouted, unable to grasp the idea of Tanya's
death. "She can't be. God-Emperor of Mankind, she can't!"
"She is," Rolf grunted back. His voice was choked with sorrow.
"I saw it with my own eyes! She gave her life to make sure we all could
live on. She is to be remembered as a true Heroine of Mankind!" Rolf
turned his head away. "She managed to be what I couldn't..." he added
silently. Only Demontfurt understood the meaning of these last words to the full.
"I know you all are very down-hearted over this," Demontfurt
began, "but we have another problem to worry about. How are we going to
get the people on the ground up here?"
McKenzie sat down hard. "Teleports?" Demontfurt shook his
head. "What about the transports?"
"One way only, I'm afraid," Demontfurt replied.
"Oh, frekk..." McKenzie said silently and rested his head in
his hands. "This gets better and better," he said silently with a
voice full of sarcasm.
"What do you mean, Master Lexicanum?" Ourmnoff asked, wearing
a look that said he knew what was to come.
McKenzie waved a tired hand at Charleston, who started to explain about
the singularity drive.
"Frekk..." McGranth swore silently when Charleston finished.
"You don't need to be a tech-magos to understand one thing,"
Ourmnoff said softly. "When the Sphere hits Arborkar's atmosphere, the atmosphere
will evaporate almost instantaneously." He paused for a second. "Burning
everything on the ground beyond recognition..."
Demontfurt lost his commissarial cool completely. "We have to get
them off the planet! Somehow! We have to!"
McKenzie looked up at the colonel-commissar. "And how would we do
that, commissar? In less than two hours, the Sphere will hit Arborkar's
atmosphere. We need that time to get out of the way from the blast wave. No
doubt, Ourmnoff has already signalled the fleet to disengage from the gravity
pool around Arborkar."
"So..." Kevin said silently, McKenzie's words finally dawning
on him. "We have to abandon the folks on the ground?"
McKenzie nodded.
"Are you nuts!" Kevin screamed. McKenzie visibly reeled from
this outburst. "What about our friends down there? Are they just to die? They've
contributed just as much as we have to this mission!"
McKenzie remained silent, so Kevin turned to Ourmnoff.
"Turn us back to Arborkar, Admiral! We have to save them, we have
to-"
"Save Nazz?" McKenzie said in a low voice. Kevin snapped
round.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me," McKenzie replied with a smirk. "It's all
about Nazz. I read you. But listen to me. You can't save her like that. You'll
only manage in getting yourself killed. And this will all be in vain. Consider
this: if we survive, the people who die on the ground can still live on in our
memories. They won't if we go back. They'll be lost forever. So, anyone who
wants to vouch against getting out of here, speak now."
No one spoke. Only a cold silence filled the air. Was this the price
they had to pay for victory?
On the ground of Arborkar, the Imperials were slowly regrouping and
accounting the numbers that remained of them. It was a dismal figure.
Masterson was looking a data-slate over when somebody screamed, the
young girl named May he guessed.
"It's coming down!"
Masterson turned his head upwards and stared at the crashing Sphere. The
bloody thing was coming straight towards Arborkar!
"This was expected," he said to the soldiers around him. "They
won't leave us... behind..." Just as he spoke, Commissar Tomas Masterson
saw how tiny blips up amongst the stars flickered and became smaller. He knew
that Battlefleet Moskva had disengaged.
"This is not good," he heard Canoness Demontfurt mumble next
to him.
"That will be remembered as the worst understatement in Imperial
History, Canoness," Masterson replied to her with a wry smile.
"Only if we get off world," Alyssia Demontfurt replied.
"We're finished!" May wailed behind them. Alyssia and
Masterson turned round and glared at her. Lee was more vocal.
"May, shut up!"
"That's right," Marie agreed. "We'll have to think our
way out of this. Right, ma'am?" Alyssia nodded.
May was silent for a few moments.
"We're finished!" she wailed again.
"May, shut up!" Lee shouted back.
"You're demoralising the troops," Masterson grumbled. "As
if we didn't have enough as it is..."
"Okay, look," May said, trying to ward off Marie, who'd been
prepared to silence May with a fist. "I'm better now. Can I only say one
more thing?"
"Sure, go ahead," Lee muttered.
"We're finished!"
There was a thumping noise and May went to the ground, knocked cold.
"That takes care of that," Marie said and looked pleased. Alyssia
smirked. She liked the style of these sisters. A bit rough, perhaps, but
pragmatic. Sure, any sister of the Adepta Sororitas should be devout and just,
but they shouldn't be too idealistic. Too bad they were going to end it here. Like
this.
"Any idea cropped up yet, commissar?" she asked Masterson.
Masterson bit his lip in thought and then said "I can only see one
way out of here. You want to hear the long version, or the short one?"
"We don't have much time, make it short."
"We're finished."
Pandemonium.
"Lee, want me to knock him too?" Marie asked, sounding too
hopeful.
Nazz, meanwhile, had been talking to Johnny and the old farseer,
Uryanaar. The old Eldar had been talking about a Craftworld and anti-grav
points and lots more that Nazz didn't understand. Part of her suddenly
regretted not having seen 2001: A Space Odyssey. Perhaps Uryanaar's talk had
made more sense then. She told him to follow her to Commissar Masterson and
Canoness Demontfurt. Perhaps they'd understand better.
"Canoness," Nazz said as she approached from behind. "The
Lord Farseer here has a suggestion on how we can get off-world."
Demontfurt stopped Masterson from making a snide remark just in time. She
nodded her head towards the farseer.
"Please, Lord Farseer, share your thoughts with us."
"As you please, Canoness Alyssia Demontfurt," Uryanaar replied
in his flawless Low Gothic. "I have recently felt this strange sensation
in the Warp flux. I barely felt it whilst aboard that Sphere, but now, once
free of the Pariahs' horrible presence, my senses are whole and I can see with
my sixth sense again. What I sense is a strong... how can I put it... humming
through the Warp. It exists on only one wavelength and there's only one thing
that sends out such a hum: wraithbone."
Silence followed. Uryanaar felt slightly irritated over the Mon-Keighs'
ignorance.
"Wraithbone is what makes up the main structure of an Eldarain
Craftworld," he explained. "And each Craftworld 'transmits' on its
own wavelength. This one happens to belong to Craftworld Vurupano, my home
world."
"And how is this information going to help us?" Masterson
sneered.
Uryanaar smiled softly at the brutish human. "It means we have a
way of getting off-world. If I can hear the Craftworld, it can't be far away. Not
more than a few days travel with your technology."
Masterson raised an eyebrow in mock query. "A few days? We have
minutes!"
"I know," Uryanaar replied. "But I didn't say that
Vurupano was to come here. I meant that we were to go to Vurupano."
"Huh?"
"Of course," Alyssia whispered. "They'll teleport us out
of here. I've heard of wraithbone, but I've never truly believed in it."
"What exactly is wraithbone?" Lee asked.
"A super-conductor for psychic power," Alyssia said. "Or
so the rumours go."
Uryanaar nodded. "I believe that Canoness Alyssia is getting the
idea, as you Mon-Keigh say. Now excuse me, I'll need to inform Vurupano of our
situation and our requirements."
"Hang on a second," Masterson muttered. "Is that alien
witch saying that his people is going to help us off-world? With
Warp-sorcery?"
Alyssia nodded.
"Never!" Masterson shouted. "I would rather die here,
than to depend on the fickle benevolence of an alien! And a witch, add to that!
They're going to teleport us off world with Warp-magicks? I have little trust
to machines, but even less to witches, the Warp and the hellish spawn of the
same. No, I'd rather die here!"
Alyssia turned round. "Would you?" she asked sharply.
Masterson looked stumped. The look in Alyssia's eyes spoke volumes. Here
they had an Eldar who was willing to help them. Should they throw that away? The
enmity between the Eldar and Humans was deep and old and had to do with
different cultures and views on the Galaxy. To Alyssia, Commissar Tomas
Masterson was at the moment personifying all of the contemptible, racist sides
of humanity. True, the Eldar could be incredibly arrogant at times, but they
didn't hate the Human race.
"Would you rather stay here, Tomas Masterson?" Alyssia asked
again.
Masterson looked down and shook his head.
"As I thought."
A few moments later, Uryanaar strode back to the Human 'headquarter'.
"Vurupano is only willing to oblige. There has, over the course of
the millennia, been several times when our races haven't been able to fully agree
on certain points. But those times are past. See this as the first gesture from
my race that we Eldarain are prepared to help you Mon-Keigh, cost whatever it
might. Sooner or later, even the most conservative Eldar must understand that
you Mon-Keigh, or should I say Humans, are the new race to rule the
galaxy."
"I thank you for your kindness, Lord Farseer," Alyssia said
and bowed her head. Uryanaar made a gesture to her not to.
"No, I should thank you. If it hadn't been for your brave warriors,
I'd still be a captive up there." Uryanaar pointed towards the Sphere. Its
edges were glowing red now.
"Speaking of which," Masterson injected. "When can we
expect to be off this dirt ball?"
"Any moment now," Uryanaar smiled.
Masterson was to reply when a rainbowish shimmer swept itself around
him. The world seemed to slow down and each colour got grossly exaggerated
before it faded away into a greyish nothing. Then the world faded away into
blackness, only to explode into a cascade of colours and shapes. He knew all
too well what this was.
He was seeing the Warp.
They were being transported.
Aboard Mishkin's Pride, McKenzie was silently reciting the Catechism of
Solitude in an attempt to calm his galloping sense of guilt. How could he have
been so blind? How could he have missed something so crucial? This was the
worst kind of sacrifice: an utterly pointless one. This wouldn't have to
happen.
But it was.
Yet, McKenzie reflected, the Imperium had always been liberal in its
usage of human life. So why would it be different now? What did the individual
matter? It was the Imperium that had to survive, right?
Something crossed McKenzie's mind. He'd read all history books he could
find in the library when he'd come to Terra, just to acquaint himself with its
history, and he recognised the reason of the Imperium now. It was just... the
Terrans shunned this thinking. On Terra, every individual was important. Everyone
mattered. Anyone who died an unnatural death was a death in vain to them. Yes,
war happened, was frequent even, but it had become less bloody.
Because generals and field marshals had learned that all their men
mattered. They all had families.
"The time on Terra made me soft," McKenzie muttered sourly. "The
Seed of the Imperium is the Blood of Martyrs." He was silent for a while. "Yet,
why does that sound wrong to me? In my heart of hearts, it feels
revolting!"
McKenzie raised his head in disbelief and disgust as he recognised the
reasoning at final. It was the reason of a fascist, of a national socialist: a
nazi! And of all criminals McKenzie had read of in those history books, the Nazis
were the worst.
McKenzie suddenly saw the parallels. Witches- no, psykers, and mutants
were the Jews of the Imperium. They were. The Imperium had extermination camps
for the mutants and psykers.
"God-Emperor," McKenzie muttered. "I think I'm going to
be sick..."
Then something flashed through his mind. A bright arc of lightning that
seared his psychic eye.
Edd came running into the small chapel where McKenzie had sat all alone.
"McKenzie!" Edd shouted. "Did you feel that? That
lightning, just now!"
"I certainly did," McKenzie replied grimly and got up. "Come,
we need to get to Admiral Ourmnoff. I have a few coordinates for him to adjust
our course to."
There was a bright flash of light and Masterson found himself on solid
ground again. He sagged down and hugged the ground. Uryanaar leaned down next
to him and held out his hand, palm up. There was something white and sugary in
it.
"Salt?" the old Eldar asked with a kindly smile.
"Why?" was all Masterson got out. He felt sick.
"To equalise the balance of salt in your body. That's why you feel
sick right now. I should've told you, perhaps."
Masterson got into a sitting position and held out his hand. He took the
sodium chloride gratefully and licked it all up. He felt better after a few
minutes and looked around. They were in the vast belly of Craftworld Vurupano
now, no doubt. At least the hundreds of Eldar in light brown robes milling
about, helping the humans, told him as much.
"We frekking made it," Masterson muttered. "Unbe-frekking-lievable."
"I said I'd make up for my race, and I'm an Eldar of my word,"
Uryanaar said and got up. He slowly walked away to join with his kind, and no
one tried to stop him.
"Lord Farseer!" Master shouted after him after a moment's
thought. "How long until Battlefleet Moskva gets here?"
"A few days, at least, commissar," Uryanaar replied in a
normal voice-level. "Don't worry, we'll stay put here and treat you as
well as we can."
"Oh-kay," Masterson said to himself and tried to get up. The
effects of abating adrenaline was coming to him now, so his legs just curled up
underneath him. He couldn't stand for a moment's worth. So he decided he'd lean
back and have some rest.
Lee and Marie picked up the sleeping commissar an hour later, when the
Eldar had managed to get some place for the thousands of Mon-Keigh to sleep.
A few days later, Masterson found himself being woken by a sound by his
bed, opened his eyes and looked into Alexander Demontfurt's blue eyes. Masterson
understood that Admiral Ourmnoff's fleet had caught up with them now.
"Alex?" Masterson said softly and sat up. "Did we do
it?"
Demontfurt nodded slowly. Masterson saw the look in Demontfurt's eyes.
"What is it, Alex? Out with it!" Masterson did not like the
eerie feeling he was getting.
"Tanya died." Demontfurt replied silently. Masterson nodded.
Nothing more needed to be said. The two commissars didn't say anything for a
long while.
The day came when the Imperials had to leave Craftworld Vurupano. The
loading of soldiers had taken several days, and the farewell was quickly
approaching. For Tomas Masterson, the day didn't come too early. He stretched
himself to his full height, which wasn't a very impressive thing to do, and
took a deep breath. He'd looked forward to getting off the craftworld ever
since they'd got there. True, he had warmed towards the alien Eldar a bit, but
he was still cold towards them. Yet, there was but one question he felt like
putting, before they left. He just had to.
He found McKenzie, Charleston, McGranth and the Terrans gathered
together to say farewell to Uryanaar and his farseer colleagues. He walked up
to them and heard McKenzie speaking in the weird tongue of the Eldar.
Alien gibberish, Masterson thought to himself.
McKenzie stopped talking and Lord Uryanaar replied, in the same tongue. After
a while, Uryanaar slipped over to Gothic instead.
"So, please, accept our heartfelt thanks. You have managed to rid
the Galaxy of something we could not. Let this day mark the beginning of warmer
relations between our kin."
"I hope so too, Lord Farseer," McKenzie replied in High
Gothic. "I'll work for the integration of the Eldar in the Pax Imperia, as
long as you don't show hostility towards the Mon-Keigh."
"Well, my dear Master Lexicanum, I can vouch for Craftworld
Vurupano, but I can't speak of the other Craftworlds. Sorry. They have their
own agendas."
"I understand completely, Lord Farseer."
McKenzie bowed and the Terrans, McGranth and Charleston followed suite. After
that, they left for the transport to take them to Mishkin's Pride. Masterson,
However, remained behind.
Uryanaar turned towards him.
"And what is on your mind, Colonel-commissar Tomas Masterson?"
"I have this question, Lord Farseer," Masterson began slowly.
"Go on. Questions can't harm anyone."
"You Eldar have existed far longer than the Human race. So you
must've gotten quite a few answers to some very important questions through
time. My question is; what is the meaning of Life, the Universe and Everything?"
Lord Uryanaar looked up, thoughtful, for a short while. Then he turned
his gaze back to the stocky human and smiled.
"The answer to that question is forty-two."
"42?" Masterson asked, nonplussed.
"Yes. I think you should join your friends now, or else you might
have to stay here."
Masterson bowed deeply, still a bit confused over the answer and hurried
to join the other humans about to leave Craftworld Vurupano.
Several hours later, when Mishkin's Pride and the other ships of
Battlefleet Moskva had left, one of the farseers that had accompanied Uryanaar
when Masterson had spoken to them, approached Uryanaar in his chambers. He
walked up to the old lord farseer, bowed deeply in reverence and asked Uryanaar
directly.
"Lord Uryanaar?" one of the other farseers asked. "Is
that really the answer to the Mon-Keigh's question?"
"No, Farseer Irawn, it isn't. But I must say Terran Mon-Keigh
author's have a fertile imagination."