LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Four
I say, “I’m proud of you Quaani. That is a worthy outlook.”
Quaani blushes, “So what now?”
“You are going to make some calls and arrange for us all to visit Silas and Fyona. They can come here first if they like, but I think it would be better for Annette if we spend the first week with them. I am going to visit the Drukhari cruiser and continue going through all the loot we have to check that there is nothing dangerous or vital within. Afterwards I spend the evening with Brigid, where I will discuss us fostering a young adult. You’re welcome.”
“Ah, I see.”
I raise an eyebrow, “Assuming you manage to arrange a visit. I will see you tomorrow. Message me if you need anything.
“Will do.”
I leave and check the progress on the new base module for a shipyard for the new colony. The new yard will also create the specialist machinery required to process the Drukhari hulls into Warp fuel.
The module won’t be anywhere near as complete as the one we made for the Macro Ferry as there isn’t time for that. Instead we are assembling a flat platform and placing micro factories, habitation, and storage silos on it. The new industrial capacity will then be used to build the actual shipyard once we have left. Construction is currently on target.
After inspecting the platform, I take a shuttle over to the Drukhari cruiser. I won’t visit every part of the cruiser in person and I’ve already been over the escorts. Often I am in conference calls with the Tech-Priests on site who, once they’ve identified a dangerous object or trap, then disarm it following my instructions.
Every trap is different, and some traps require me to be there in person as they need a psyker to go over them. I’m the only person in the Fleet with sufficient knowledge, and durability, to do so.
I do feel like I am micro-managing a bit too much, but the Dark Eldar are really inventive. Every device is different and follows a convoluted, alien logic. There’s no: ‘this is trap type A, you disarm it like this, now repeat.’ I have to run many simulations before each trap is disarmed. I do not want my prize to self-destruct because someone tried to turn on the lights.
Yes, it really is that bad in there.
Everything in the vessel is designed to cause pain, from vicious toxins embedded into door handles, food that is highly addictive and fills your flesh with microtears, and corridors filled with agonisers that strike anyone who passes them if they don’t walk on their hands.
Each time I leave the Drukhari cruiser, I’m tempted to abandon our careful combing of the vessel and blow it up, but it is just too valuable to do so.
The Koronus Expanse has a strong trade in xenos weaponry. Everyone likes to collect it, despite it being proscribed, because Eldar weaponry is powerful, light, and you can pretend to boast you killed the xeno it belonged to. The problem is, most people can’t actually use their exotic guns because they have limited, or even no ammo.
Stripping the production machinery for Eldar ammunition from the Drukhari vessels will make me incredibly popular in Footfall. The Drukari versions don’t even require psykers to operate as they are intended to be used by slaves. However, I am more interested in supplying Eldar with their own ammunition next time I am forced to team up with them.
I know it is petty, but seeing the constipated look on their faces as I gift them crates of freshly manufactured shuriken disks, or make them use the weapons of their hated cousins, will be glorious.
We’ve acquired millions of tonnes of poisons, exotic weapons, and precious metals. Most of it is waiting to be turned into something we can use without it killing the wielder, or destroyed if that proves impossible. I intend to assign the new colony on Haddon’s Throne with this task. I’m also going to leave behind the two escorts and two transports. They need refitting and I’m going to turn them into monitor ships for the colony.
Only Ardent Bane will be coming with us. Repairing and refitting Ardent Bane is going to consume all of Iron Crane’s industrial capacity for several years. I don’t intend to turn it into a proper warship. Instead, Ardent Bane will be converted into a garden ship. It will be a holiday location for crew and grow the medicines required to start the Blessings and Castigations system, producing life extension drugs for personnel who consistently perform good work during their working life. A reverse retirement program, if you will.
Ardent Bane already has production facilities for rejuvenat drugs, and the Tech-Priests to operate them. While expanding production will no doubt cause all sorts of issues, there shouldn’t be anything that requires my direct intervention.
The vessel will still be armed and armoured as well as I can manage, but its ostentatious design will be toned down in most interior locations. The extreme luxury will only be maintained within the luxury passenger quarters and along the main thoroughfares.
The exterior will be repaired to its former, ridiculous glory. Ardent Bane should prove a useful location when I want to impress or intimidate someone. I’ll be keeping out of the line of battle whenever possible though as the exterior detail work is horribly labour intensive.
I might even install multiple race tracks on the outer hull as driving buggies around a plethora of art will be fantastic fun for both racers and the audience. I could even have crew commendations come with a statue on the hull, immortalising the achievements of my crew for everyone to see when the buggies race past.
After my work day is done, I put on the same outfit I wore for the dinner with Trader Modren, taking a few moments to admire myself in the mirror. There’s something about wearing a well cut jacket and tailored waistcoat that just makes me feel good about myself. As if I’ve finally made it in life and can present myself to the world with confidence.
Even my new body with its incredible implants doesn’t do it for me. Sure, I know I look good, and that makes me feel good, but it doesn’t feel earned like a good jacket does. Which is just silly, really. I spent thousands of hours on each implant and paid for them in blood. The clothes just cost me bytes. I didn’t even have to make or design them!
I chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, then have a Servitor bring me a single rose that took my laboratory’s organic printer a whole day to make. A horrible waste of resources, but it did feel good to put that tealess data on English soaps to good use that I picked up from a lanyard on the Federation space station decades ago.
Brigid returns to our quarters ten minutes later and freezes when she sees me sitting on the sofa. I get up to greet her, a slight swagger in my steps, and she giggles.
“What brought this on?” says Brigid. She tugs on my waistcoat and pulls me down for a brief kiss.
“Well, I rather like looking at you. I thought I should at least attempt to return the favour.”
Brigid straightens my jacket, running her hands down the lapels, then slips her arms beneath it and hugs me, pressing her face to my chest. “Hmm, very nice.”
I tap her shoulder with a mechadendrite and she turns to the side and looks at it.
“What?”
Another mechadendrite presents Brigid with a scented orange rose. “My, you are trying hard this evening. That’s a lovely flower, Aldrich. Thank you.”
Brigid grasps the rose with her own mechadendrite, brings it to her face, and sniffs it. “I’ve no idea what this is, but I like it.”
“An English rose, extinct for at least fifteen millennia, until today, and once it has wilted, it will be gone once again, returning to data and decaying organic matter.”
“You find the oddest things, Aldrich. You’re looking sad again. I don’t like it when you do that.”
The flower reminds me of the English gardens my grandmother would drag me around as a kid, but I can’t say that after mentioning they’re extinct, so I quickly think of something else to say.
“This particular variety is called Rosa ‘Lady Emma Hamilton’. Roses have been symbols of many feelings, places, and people. The oldest varieties typically flower for three weeks, once a year, a short moment of fleeting beauty, though they are given to others as a symbol of enduring love and passion, or so the data I read would have me believe.”
Brigid nods, “They are beautiful because they are brief, as eternal beauty becomes background noise. You mourn a lost moment, even as you give it away to express your devotion.”
“Impeccable logic, as always.”
“Truly, there is no higher praise than that from a Magos Explorator.” Brigid gives me another squeeze then steps back. “I am going to change and look up what I’m actually supposed to do with a live flower, then I will be back out for dinner. I told the chef to give us a tasting menu, so I’m rather looking forward to seeing what he comes up with.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Brigid smiles and heads to the bedroom. I return to the sofa, and design some simulations to see what it would take to recreate my old memories on Ardent Bane.
You can make scents, oils, sweets, nutritious cordials, and many other goods from roses. These would make great gifts for impressing nobles and I am sure I will do that, but ultimately I just want to walk along a garden path, surrounded by scents, sounds, and sunlight while brushing my fingertips over their velvet petals. I want to share the experience with Brigid and my children, forging a connection between them and my past without me risking everything by telling them about my ancient origins. Yes, I could do that in VR, but I would much rather have the real thing.
An hour later, Brigid leaves the bedroom, wearing the cuffed, red ball gown she wore for the meal with Trader Modren. She has trimmed the rose and used it to pin her hair into a bun.
I smile when I see her and she joins me on the sofa.
“You were right to dress up Aldrich, this is fun and it would be such a shame to only wear this dress once.” Brigid sighs and snuggles under my arm. “It’s been a long time since we made an effort in our relationship. Sure, we maintain it. We have our date nights, we spend time together as a family, and we share our research projects, but we haven’t done anything new in a while. The dinner with the unlamented Trader Modren was the first time we’ve dressed up in years.” Brigid looks up at me, “State events don’t count.”
I chuckle but don’t contradict her.
Brigid continues, “Our life has become routine and comfortable. I like it. Love it even. Knowing when and where everything is happening brings me great joy; yet I can’t help but wish for interesting times, so long as it doesn’t involve us getting shot at.” Brigid grins, “Even if you do look rather heroic while you’re dealing with it.”
“Thank you, Love. I understand your hopes, so long as ‘interesting times’ do not become your next obsession.”
Brigid pouts dramatically, “You wound me bad sir.”
I laugh, “I’m sure if we put our heads and hearts together we can find some new activities to try. Maybe ask the kids for an idea? They’ll know what the latest, most awesome thing that the all encompassing and greatly exaggerated ‘everyone’ is doing right now. That reminds me, how did your conversation with Alpia go?”
Brigid sighs, “That girl is as bad as Róisín, she is completely devoted to you, though it is your constant presence, rather than your knowledge, that drives her. I am delighted that our daughter has such a strong connection with you, but I fear the day she must step out beneath your psychic awning and you are no longer within easy reach. There will always be trouble and I am not confident she can deal with it herself.”
“That worries me too. I am following her Psy-Errant training closely. They are being much tougher with her than the others to prevent any talk of favorability, though that in turn is showing favour of a sort and isolates her somewhat from her co-workers. None are near her age though, so the dynamic is slightly different. She’s the current FNG, and while they know her presence from her growing up in the Stellar Fleet, she doesn’t have any peers to confide in and compete with. Alpia only has me.”
“Training can only take one so far,” Brigid nods. “Still, it is good they are not treating her like a wallflower. The boys aren’t causing any serious trouble at least and they are much better at not acting on their jealousy than they used to be.”
“They can be oddly clannish,” I say. “Woe betide any individual, other than them, who messes with their sister. At least Alpia gives as good as she gets and they know when not to push it. I will be most upset if one of our kids earns a Darwin Award.”
“Amusing to consider. Horrifying in practice,” says Brigid. “With regards to Alpia and her suicide implant, I don’t think she really gets it. She knows about it on an intellectual level. The idea that she could ever be at risk of it triggering just doesn’t register though. She’s never seen something breach your protections, and since Mote, nothing has and you’re always improving them.
“Alpia hasn’t considered that she would ever leave your protection either. To her it’s always been there. It always will be there and she has no intention of doing anything other than be a Psy-Errant on the same ship as you.”
I say, “An obvious blind spot in her thinking, in hindsight. I doubt the other psykers in the fleet are much better.”
“I don’t know about the other psykers, but I asked Alpia about her career path and she wanted to join your bodyguards. An impossible task as the conflict of interest would not allow it and you would not bend the rules for her. I told her as much and she was not happy.
“Then we talked about her being a Rogue Trader princess, which perked her right back up, until I pointed out that she would be expected to become a void ship captain and likely sent out on missions under your banner. We ran out of time and had to stop there, but it has given her something to think about.”
I frown.
Brigid continues, “Alpia knows that neither you nor I will force her to do something she truly does not want to. That would be stupid as one cannot give command of a voidship to an unsuitable individual, nor is it wise to constantly stress a psyker. I want her to be more than a layabout though, to find a passion that she can dedicate herself to and feel proud of herself at the end of every day.”
“I agree,” I say “Róisín is working towards making the Psy-Errants a proper order of knights. Piloting those suits is a tough yet prestigious job. Working her way up until she becomes a knight commander or similar is just as impressive as a voidship captain. It isn’t the expected path for a Rogue Trader scion, but no one would look down on her for achieving it.
“There is also the Magos Aetheric path. Few have the mental fortitude or innate understanding of the risks involved in pursuing such a task and psykers have a natural advantage. I would be delighted if she became a fellow Magos.”
“Then make sure you tell her that,” says Brigid.
“I’ll contact her the moment she is free and actually allowed to talk to me. Alpia has been good so far, but she’s going to break the rules eventually. I don’t like being harsh, but self-discipline for psykers is not a subject to joke about.”
“Hm, make sure she doesn’t try to give you the runaround.”
“Do I ever?”
“Not when it is important, I admit.”
I kiss Brigid, “That’s enough about the kids. I want to hear about you.”
“Let's have dinner first, then we can talk. I know you don’t need to eat, but I’m not getting into a finance debate with you on an empty stomach.”
“Fair enough. Let’s see what the chef has come up with.”