40 Thousand Reasons

Chapter 18: Pharos

I maintained the communication blackout for another week, directing destroyers and frigates to vaporize small hull fragments and bodies, while the cruisers took on the harder task of collecting and pushing the larger wrecks into the system's sun.

Only when the all clear from the surface came, on the vox channel, did I lift the blackout, after all the enemies that have landed have been accounted for.

No prisoners as it happens. What would I ask the cretins?

Where is their secret base? Who is their leader? Would you please repent and come back to the good side?

Fuck that. I had a much better tool at my disposal than some lying traitor.

And two months later, Rose did get access to the Pharos, the alien device possibly built by the Old Ones.

"The Old One doesn't play dice" is a famous quote from a famous Physicist from the past. Who knew Einstein was actually right?

But I bet he didn't imagine the galaxy inhabited by demons and xenos by the trillions, while many of those xenos, like the Ork, Eldar and Jokaero were created by the Old Ones to combat the C'tan and the Necrons.

Taking my Mona Lisa lander, I descend on the surface, observing the devastation wreaked by the small number of traitor marine that have managed to reach the planet.

Every one of the powered armored traitors had the capability of a powerful tank, but much more agile and mobile. Less than a company of Chaos marines survived, and almost broke through an armor regiment and an Astartes Chapter.

Almost.

The Inquisition's Stormtrooper regiment suffered the worst, without heavy tanks and power armor to balance the odds. A dozen Chimeras and a thousand Guards died for every single traitor they managed to kill.

A sad remainder that humans were too weak in the face of this galaxy's horrors.

Oberdeii, the marine's Chapter Master meets me as I land, and shakes my hand. "A great victory for the Emperor, Lord Lancefire!" he announces as his brothers cheer in loud voices.

I almost sigh inward. I did very little, except stopping others from making mistakes. Didn't even manage a perfect record of that.

"Glad to be of service, my lord. I intend to enter the Pharos myself, if that's alright?" I wonder in a humble tone.

This guy is almost twice my height with his power armor and two large scythes on his back. Makes me feel small and weak.

"For your service, I will allow it, Captain. Don't touch anything though. Warsmith Barabas Dantioch has studied the ancient device for many years before he could attempt to delve into its mysteries." the Astartes leader says in a colder voice.

Yeah, he doesn't like a stranger nosing into the Pharos, since he was named Warden by Primarch Guilliman.

However, he does owe me a bit, and he knows it.

The halls of the Pharos are made of some sort of living rock, and I feel sensations and emotions brush against my mind.

Almost like a Machine Spirit, though without the familiar babble of prayers and recitations.

Some time later, after passing endless tunnels and stairs and barriers we reach the central chamber, where an alien machine called the Sounding Board controls the artifact.

It does look a bit like a DJ console, with a myriad of tuning dials and flips and tabs and gauges.

As I get closer, I start sensing the operation manual downloading into my mind. It seems the machine has deemed me compatible. Must be my implants.

Beside the beacon, it's known function and the reason it was called a Pharos, or lighthouse, I sense other directions and currents.

I could step on Ultramar with ease, if I want. I could also lock on to Gyron and bring him here. Or just say hi in his mind.

I do so anyways.

"It's Pef, my mentor. I met Justine and she says thanks." I tell him in a gleeful tone.

"I thought you couldn't use astropaths... If that's really you." the Explorator Magos says in a suspicious voice. Mind voice.

"Well, I can't prove anything from this far away. Anyhow. Justine works with this pretty Lady Inquisitor, and she has access to some mind device that works even for Blanks. Cool, right?" I ask rhetorically.

"You didn't!" Gyron exclaims sensing something in my thoughts.

"Errr. We're not getting married, me and Rose. Just some bed-fun while I help her with some task. By the way, please send a full transport to every Forge around. I will travel to Estaban soon." I explain while waving politely at my Rose.

"I'm convinced now. Only my idiot pupil would have a fling with an Inquisitor and call it fun. May the Omnissiah guard your soul!" Gyron says with relief and admonishment.

I change targets to my son, Victor and check on Ilevar, my capital. Everything seems okay, except a new Emperor cult has risen among the lower caste...which makes people more faithful and pliant.

Victor seems rather happy.

"Interrogate and execute all the cult leaders. And find what alien is behind it." I order with an inner snort. Good things do not happen in Hell.

If they do, it's only a long term plot to undermine the planet for easier conquest. Eldar, Genestealer or Chaos, someone would be behind such a cult and ruin my day.

"Find anything, Lord Pef?" The Inquisitor asks, as I've been staring at the glowing console for a long time.

"Yes. I'll need some armchairs and food brought down." I say without explaining.

Ludvaius pats my head in a familiar gesture. "You never fail to amaze, Captain Pef. A thousand tech-priests and the Inquisitor fail to make any progress and you do it in a minute."

Lord Oberdeii nods at me with some respect. He probably knows what I could do now, since his Warmaster had similar control over the sounding board. Nothing to do with sound I suspect, perhaps only as cosmic vibrations and energies.

I don't reveal anything, because demons. Secrets are only safe in my head, and perhaps with my mother or my son.

Those that are not Blanks can always turn into enemies, or much easier than a Blank anyway.

An hour later, I lounge in my armchair and sip some wine, while Rose and Justine drink tea and chat in a soft whisper.

Repairs and reclamation on Sotha and in orbit continue without my guidance, as the Imperium of Man is quite used to clean up operations after being invaded. Happens everywhere, even on Terra itself.

It takes a full week to get a grip on the main controls, and locate the Necron capital among a billion other systems in this sector. Not easy, but I get lucky sometimes.

Then. I simply move the light beam of the Pharos lighthouse on a new target, although it's not a beam nor a light. The focus is tighter too, to avoid splashing nearby human planets.

Rose opens her eyes wide, while she stares at her tarot cards, the human method of reading the future. The psychic cards themselves float in midair, spin a few times as if confused, and fall down in a different pattern.

Mission complete!

"We'll need a bigger fleet." I say out loud, without trying to look at the shifting figures on the tarot.

If a mere tarot card reacts like this, the Gods of this galaxy will react much worse.

Rose steps away and smiles at me for a second, then she vanishes in a violet flash. Teleport is so useful...

There's only me and Justine here, with my Astartes standing guard a few meters behind.

"Your gift was very useful, mother. That sorcerer didn't stand a chance." I say in praise.

She nods shyly, probably not used to compliments. "He was very strong though. Took all my focus to lock him down."

"I suspect it's like a muscle, mother. You need training and practice, then low level enemies to test yourself. Just like any soldier trains." I advise her in a gentle tone. Justine blinks and smiles. 

The Astartes steps beside me and stops me before I take another gulp of wine. "You also need to know when to stop and rest. Space marines have superior bodies, you don't, Lord Pef. No more wine."

I grit my teeth and sigh in defeat. Perhaps he is right.

"I was among the few, who stood against many. The brother who spilled his brothers' blood."

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Okay then. I can take a hint. Although the damned quotes should come with the source, or they lack proper context.

Drawing a lever, the armchair lowers and I drift into sleep.

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