Chương 71: Chapter 69: Nicole’s Influence Creates Echoes

POV: Nicole The arrival of the recruits for my Legio and the rollout of their education program has brought a minor but nagging issue to light. According to one of Original Nicole's memories, the Argent Drake should have a dedicated cogitator database containing archived Tempestus data, including schematics for the Chasmata Pattern Laser Destructors, the very ones our Legion has jealously guarded for millennia. But despite multiple searches, that database was nowhere to be found.

Not in the private Cavalerio labs and storage, and not in the ship's primary cogitator core. Gone, hidden, or misplaced. None of which were acceptable outcomes.

"AME," I call, turning towards her as she perches on my shoulder.

"You absorbed the ship schematic I was working on when you ate the Sky Eye. Go through it. Flag any unmapped areas or inconsistencies between that and the current layout." The Warp Gate map is scheduled to arrive today, and I want to be personally involved in its installation. I vouched for it. I sourced it. If this thing integrates poorly with the ship's systems, I'll be the one who has to answer for it. AME flutters in place, her frame glowing faintly as she processes the information.

A few seconds later, she chirps with satisfaction.

"Two discrepancies located!" she announces, projecting a three-dimensional wire-frame of the Argent Drake. The image zooms in on two sectors. One's tucked neatly beneath the main sensor spire. The other is deeper, low in the underdecks - a cylindrical room with no obvious point of access.

"Thanks, AME," I say, reaching up to give her a few affectionate scritches between her emitter nodes. She leans into the touch, pleased. The chamber beneath the sensor spire is in a prime location for bolting in the additional sensors required by the new map. I decide to start there, stepping off with my guard detail trailing at a respectful distance. When we arrive, it becomes clear why the room had gone unnoticed for so long.

The entrance is almost flawlessly concealed, more an architectural afterthought than a functional access point, and the surrounding spire design subtly diverts foot traffic around it. Leaving a blind spot large enough to conceal the heavy double doors. I run a sweep with my Auspex. The data it pings back makes me grin. When I pry the hatch open, I can't help but let out a small, amused laugh.

The room is thick with fine dust, everything still and untouched, but inside is a wide bank of ancient cogitators, humming with dormant promise. I cross the room, power up the nearest terminal, and slide in my data spike. No need for a bypass. No override. The system recognizes my credentials instantly. A few flicks through the directory, and I find exactly what I've been looking for.

"Delta-A3," I call over the Vox, "assemble a recovery team. These cogitators need to be transferred to my secure sector. We'll do a full data backup before we move them, just in case, but from what I can tell, they appear fully functional. They just need a bit of maintenance." I wipe a layer of dust from the panel as I speak, already mentally drafting the relay chain for the data.

"These hold nearly all of Legio Tempestus's records from before The Schism. Engine designations, component schematics, production details for our MIUs and Chasmata Destructors… even our doctrine on orbital assault deployments." It's a treasure trove. As I start the cleaning process myself, I glance toward the conduit snaking through the center of the room, the massive main artery for the ship's auspex systems.

"Once we clear these out," I say, mostly to myself, "This is an ideal location for the Warp Gate Map. The sensor feed and power lines are already here. Linking the two should not be too difficult." The backup and move took a few days, as did the follow-up install, but the most difficult part of the installation turned out to be convincing Argent to accept and power the foreign components. I am very pleased to see that out of all the dim scales that had dotted Argent before, only two remain.

One was likely the other room I have not dealt with yet, and both were smaller.

"Hi Argent! Now I know this is a Xenos component, but we would like you to add it to your sensor systems. We've cleansed it and checked it over thoroughly."

"We are aware, PRINCESS. It is not the first component of Xenos origin I have subsumed," Argent rumbles, leaning down her huge head to stare at the mark on the back of my hand with concern.

"That echo… is ancient."

"It's alright. For now, anyway. Just a mark," I say placatingly.

"We're going to be going somewhere dangerous with lots of ships soon. Hopefully, to rescue a few and add them to our fleet," I say to change the subject.

"Adding brethren to the flight is good. Afterwards, will PRINCESS finally go to collect our angry little cousin?" Argent asks as she withdraws. Her presence is easier to tolerate for a longer period, but still oppressive when meeting like this. My brow furrows in confusion.

"Angry little cousin? … Do you mean my Titan?" I ask softly. She nods sagely, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

"We expect he is… most distraught." I wince.

"That is on the list of things to do, yes. If he's still where he's supposed to be," I mutter. Argent snorts,"Angry little cousin will only obey the PRINCESS. In this, we are certain."

"Right… That's… Good? Ahem. Any requests for me aside from fixing the last two dim scales before I go?" I inquire politely.

"Ensure the voracious hatchling refrains from nibbling on us, or we will be displeased," Argent rumbles in warning.

"I plan to keep AME on a tight leash," I promise earnestly.

"That will suffice," Argent says, and as she finally lets power flow into the new component, she hums and her eyes flicker, and she moves to eject me.

"Wait! What makes him a cousin, and what's my Titan's name?" I call out.

"His heart is kindred of metal from the ancient source, from before we were given breath, fangs, claws, and wings to prowl the void. PRINCESS named him once, PRINCESS will remember in due time," Argent growls softly as she ejects me. I come to my senses back in the new component and shake my head, "Okay… Argent has accepted the component!" I declare as Master Doll, and the Magi all stare down at me.

"Fascinating. I still think I would like to try communing with the ship's spirit in that manner. I have performed some calculations, and there is a slight chance I would survive." Magos Altair comments to the others as he checks over the newly installed parts.

"Request Denied!" Both Doll and Xor hiss at him in tandem. —------------------------------------------------------ POV: Farseer Anvial By the time the Princeps requested a meeting, the salvage of the old transport was complete. Starlight's Ghost had docked at the human station, its interior refurbished. The Drukhari aesthetics stripped away and replaced with the smooth, reverent lines of traditional Aeldari design, now suitable for guests.

The Princeps arrived with Lord Trader and Archmagos in tow, all three accompanied by their respective guardians.

"Welcome, Princeps. Trader Drakios. Archmagos Doll," Anvial greeted, gesturing to the curved seats arranged around a smooth, round wraithbone table.

"Please, be seated. I was told you wished to meet and formally call in your favors."

"Indeed," the Princeps replied.

"I would like to redeem two of the five jumps and one of the two favors I am owed. The first jump using the Aeldari gate network to safely ferry the whole Drakios fleet to the Processional of the Damned. The second is for an exit from the Processional, to a location we will decide today, for the fleet and any prizes we secure. The favor is to shepherd us." She glanced briefly at Drakios and the Archmagos before continuing.

"An addendum: That seeing us safely off without hostilities was implied in the favor." Anvial nodded sagely.

"These requests easily fall within the bounds of your favors and can be fulfilled. However, there are limitations. On your return journey, we likely will not be able to take you beyond what you call 'Segmentum Obscurus.'" With a wave of his hand, a holo-map of the galaxy shimmered into view. Pinpoints of light began to flicker across the starscape.

"We will enter through this gate here," he said, indicating one such light.

"It lies two to three weeks from Ur-Haven. The journey will take approximately two months. The Processional gate itself is kept in a remote and discreet location for obvious reasons." The Princeps leaned forward.

"These lights. Are they all active gates?"

"Indeed," Anvial replied as he watched them study the display.

"I assume any active craftworld could also serve as an exit point?" She inquired.

"In theory, yes," Anvial allowed, "Though in practice, most of their current positions are unknown even to us." Then, to his mounting unease, the Princeps began pointing.

"Ur-Haven is here, in the Scarus Sector, Antimar sub-sector. Yme-Loc rests in the Halo Stars - not ideal for us, and traversing the Maw to reach the Lathes would be difficult. Like the Processional, it lies in Calixis. Kaelor is even further rimward and therefore also unsuitable. Ulthwé was last seen near Cadia, which is too risky to be viable. Lugganath, however, is located here, to the galactic east of Obscurus. It should be about only two and a half sectors from Cypra Mundi. That makes it a prime candidate.

There's also this gate in the Gothic Sector - not far from Port Maw or Ryza. We'll likely need time at a Forge World or major port afterward to repair and refit, especially if we recover three whole vessels as I intend. We'll also begin installation of the abaci on as many vessels as possible. We can potentially offload any excess abaci too."

"How?" Anvial whispered mostly to himself before the swift and deft telepathic equivalent of a smack to the back of his head from his grandmother landed and silenced him. Both Drakios and the Archmagos stared at her, momentarily silent, before the Trader turned back to the map.

"What is your preference? They are your jumps and your favors, after all." He asked softly.

"Lugganath," Nicole answered without hesitation.

"From there to Cypra Mundi for repairs, and to claim my Titan. After that, we'll circle back to check on your capital and the Star Dragon's homeworld. Then proceed to our next destination." The Archmagos tilted his head.

"And that destination?" Anvial said nothing, but his curiosity mirrored Doll's. Nicole inhaled slowly.

"The Nachmund sub-sector," she said with a grim finality and in a tone that sent a shiver down his spine. The Archmagos and the Trader shared a puzzled glance. Anvial cleared his throat softly.

"That route is acceptable. Do note, that while we will linger near the gate, your safety within the Processional of the Damned is your responsibility. We will not rescue you should you require it." Nicole nodded.

"We will develop a plan and impose a strict time limit for our operation to reduce the risk. I believe that only the Argent Drake will delve further into the system. The remaining vessels will likely remain near the gate plundering the outer sea of space hulks."

"Very well. When do you wish to depart?" Anvial asked, ready to leave at any time. Nicole looked to Drakios. He considered for a moment, then leaned over to consult the Archmagos. When both nodded, Drakios stood.

"Thirty-eight days from now, at the end of next month. That gives us enough time to settle the remaining affairs." —---------------------------------------------------------------- POV: Rogue Trader Arken Drakios With the date of departure set, activity among the docked Rogue Trader fleet surged. Preparations intensified - supplies were loaded, machine spirits placated, and weapons systems recalibrated.

Amidst the whirlwind, Arken Drakios scheduled a high-level debriefing, summoning his entire upper command staff a week before departure. Lady Cavalerio would be the keynote speaker. The grand audience chamber aboard his flagship was packed. Present were the command teams of every vessel in the fleet, senior Mechanicus personnel, crew leads, armed forces commanders - and several of the Star Dragons Astartes, grim and silent in their armor. Arken stepped forward.

"Welcome to this debriefing. As many of you are no doubt aware, our fleet will depart from Ur-Haven at the end of next month. This is not our typical modus operandi, and as such we felt it necessary to make everyone aware of what to expect. Matriarch Cavalerio will explain the details." He took his seat.

"Thank you, Lord Drakios," Nicole said politely, and stepped forward.

"In thirty-one days, we will leave Ur-Haven. The trip will take three weeks, after which we will follow the Eldar vessel into their Webway gate. Once inside, it will take only a month to reach our destination at the far edge of Calixis. There, we will exit through another gate into the Procession of the Damned." A low murmur rippled through the audience. Some junior officers exchanged uneasy glances; others began furiously inputting notes into dataslates.

Even the Mechanicus adepts seemed to stiffen, their mechadendrites twitching in unconscious agitation. A hololithic display shimmered into being, showing a distorted, star system. The scan was old - a copy of a copy - taken from a vessel with a sub-par auspex based on data she has pried from the depths of the Mechanicus archives.

"The Procession of the Damned. It is a ship graveyard you can scarcely comprehend, a million million vessels from all over the galaxy, from recent to so ancient they predate our entire species, lie here. It is a solar graveyard made up of multiple layers and celestial bodies." She paused and adjusted the projection.

"This is the Damned Gateway, this Eldar Webway portal is where we will enter the outermost part of the system. It is the only way to reliably enter the system."

"The outer edge is known as the Fragmented Cloud, a region of smaller, broken vessels and twisted remains. There is little salvage to be had this far out, though it does make a good base from which to venture deeper. It is also the haunt of the Carrion, marooned descendants of the legendary Wrath Umboldt's crew. We will get back to them later. Our operational base will be established in this region." The image shifted to a decaying world.

"There are at least three recorded worlds orbiting within the graveyard. The first is Blight - a dead, desiccated world. It is hollow, honeycombed with ship-sized tunnels like an apple devoured by worms. Reports indicate the Carrion regularly checks Blight for vessels that drift from the Sea of Space Hulks, though even they remain wary, as the Hollow Men are also known to scavenge on and around the planet."

"Hollowed out like a hive gone rotten," someone muttered from the crowd. A few ship captains conferred in hushed voices, and one senior voidsman crossed himself with the sign of the aquila. She nodded to the projection.

"Now, the Outer Sea of Space Hulks. This makes up the bulk of the Procession. A region of space thick with ruined remains of every manufacture, race, and purpose, drawn from across the galaxy and even from those lost in the Warp. The scale is maddening. To look upon it is to risk despair. It is endless tumbling shapes, broken debris choking your vision and sensors. We will launch swarms of probes and perform extensive Auspex scans, focusing on Imperial vessels and locating as many Archeotech Void Abaci as possible.

Additional salvage may be considered on a case by case basis." Another bleak world emerged in the display.

"Deep within the Sea lurks the world of Decay. Smaller than Blight, more a moon than a planet - it hides in darkness - detectable only by faint gravity shadows or the turbulent star's dim light. The Carrion claims Decay is home to the Hollow Men and should be avoided. We will heed that warning." The view narrowed further inward.

"Beyond lies the Inner Sea of Space Hulks. The debris here is more decayed, more twisted by the pull of the Turbulent Star. Few have dared this far. Stories speak of treasure ships and vessels of legend, but hard data is scarce. Only the Argent Drake will delve into the Inner Sea, thanks to its advanced point defenses and shielding systems." She let the next planet appear slowly; it was little more than a smeared blur.

"The third world is Oblivion. Larger than both Blight and Decay, shrouded in a dark, murky atmosphere. We know nearly nothing about it. We will not be investigating Oblivion." She changed the projection again.

"Beyond that lies the Carrion Deeps. Here, the dense wreckage gives way to scattered titans and ancient leviathans. The Carrion say this is where the greatest ships drift at last, drawn toward the Turbulent Star. No one has entered the Deeps and returned. We will be the first." Finally, she turned to the black core of the system.

"The Turbulent Star. It is also called the Reaper's Eye, the Black Heart, the Hole in the Void. No one knows what it truly is. The Eldar say it is a creation of fate beyond fate, an entropic spirit, a dent in the fabric of time. We will not approach the star. The Drake will only skirt the Inner Sea and the Deeps briefly. No other ships will venture that deep." Silence fell like a veil. For a moment, even the faint hum of the projectors seemed louder.

Then, as if shaking off a chill, a few officers adjusted collars or glanced at one another with uneasy eyes. She allowed the moment's silence.

"Now that we've covered the topography we can talk about the dangers. The Carrion and the Hollow Men are foremost among them, but not alone. The Carrion are fractured - some seek rescue, others are mad, many are hostile. Treat all as potential threats. Any survivors recovered will be subject to strict quarantine and evaluation protocols. The same applies to salvage teams. Treat this entire operation with the same care as you would when plundering an unknown Space Hulk."

"The Hollow Men are typically encountered near large space hulks or asteroids. They wear massive, battered exo-suits with thrusters, looming larger than a man. They swarm over wrecks and tear them apart, ignoring crews unless resisted. They are heavily armed and armoured, equipped with fusion beamers and cutting implements just as effective at dismantling hulls as enemies. Once aboard a disabled vessel, the crew is as good as dead.

Legends claim no one has ever seen what's inside their suits, and some say there's nothing at all and that their armor turns to ash when they die. I don't care. They are to be destroyed on sight. The Argent Drake's point defenses will deter them most of the time, but armed crews must be ready to walk on the hull and defend the ship if they get too close." A ripple of discomfort passed through the hall. One of the Tech-Priests let out a burst of binaric - possibly a curse.

Captain Bolaar leaned forward slightly, expression unreadable behind his helm. Nicole paused to drink, then continued.

"I have had a minor divination and made a promise. We, myself and those with me, will salvage three ships from the Procession. One from the Outer Sea, one from the Inner Sea, and one from the Carrion Deeps. I do not yet know which. Identifying them will require extensive rituals allowing me to commune with the ship's machine spirits nearby. I will look for those who are still willing to rage against the dying light and the dark.

"That's why we trained so many surplus crew. But I will also consult with Lord Drakios, Archmagos Doll, and others. We will not overreach. The largest ship isn't always the best. What we seek are repairable vessels to be coaxed back to life, not long dead hulks lacking that spark. That being said, I'll try to keep an eye out for a treasure ship." She said as she smiled and tried to lighten the mood for a moment. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Her voice dropped a tone.

"There is one more omnipresent danger. The Procession itself. The system itself has a palpable aura of dread and death. You will hear whispers. See Auspex and hear vox ghosts from across time. No one stands watch alone. Pairings, confirmation codes, constant contact. Our sanity will be tested. The Drake's time in the Inner Sea and the Deeps will be limited to two weeks. Once the third ship is secured, we leave with all haste. There is a chance the system itself may react negatively to our harvest."

A few junior officers looked up sharply. Arken overheard as one leaned to another and whispered, "Like that time we had to deal with warp hallucinations for the entire trip all over again." The other officer only nodded grimly. She exhaled softly.

"This venture is being undertaken at my behest. Once complete, we'll return through the Eldar gate into Imperial space on the far side of Obscurus and then use the Void Abaci to reach Cypra Mundi, conduct repairs and business, and then finally return to the Drakios home system." Nicole politely bowed her head.

"This is the best way I know of to return the fleet to mobility with the Astronomicon barred to us but it will be dangerous and I will undoubtedly benefit from the recovery of the vessels. So I thank you all for being willing to see it through and for trusting me. May the light of the Omnissiah guide us." She stepped back, leaving the room to a heavy silence full of dread and anticipation.

—---------------------------------------------------------------- POV: Nicole I wasn't expecting the reception to my debriefing to be received with so much… fervor. The command staff was putting their crews through the wringer all across the fleet. They were getting drilled relentlessly. I didn't want my recruits to feel left out, so they get to go through basic combat training, shipboard emergency drills, and two weeks of physical conditioning, too! If it was good enough for me, it's good enough for them.

The Star Dragons were just as, if not more, enthusiastic for the upcoming trip and had started practice skirmishes along the hull. Baldos even had me double-check to ensure his magnetic feet were working properly. I've spent more than a few days in the forges working on various projects. Unfortunately, I need some specific parts for the Saturnine Dreadnought that we don't have the means to fabricate, which are necessary to reconstruct a few key components.

I've made the legs, and while we could make the paldrons like we made the knight plates, it's not worth the effort right now until I get the remaining pieces. I've also put together a few gifts for the Deathwatch team. I also have the other hidden room to deal with eventually, the strange cylinder chamber in the bowels of the Argent Drake. That isn't going anywhere. It can wait. There is no need to tempt fate. Some matters are more time sensitive.

I head down to the Star Dragon's barracks checking things out before one of the lieutenants approaches and politely inquires if they could help me.

"I need someone of sufficient rank and familiar with using their Omophagea organ on enemy astartes."

"Apothecary Sistus, Champion Silverclaw, or Ancient Drallis, should suffice ma'am. I'll fetch them for you," he replies curtly.

"Thank you, lieutenant?" I could have checked his ID but it was polite to let him introduce himself.

"Lieutenant Dravon Wist, Ma'am," he salutes me with an arm and I nod. A few minutes later the three Astartes walk over.

"Thank you for your time, I have neural tissue that was procured during the battle with the Emperor's Children. Specifically from their dreadnought. It's been sterilized and checked for corruption and stored in cryo stasis since then. I am trying to discern a timeline for a… notable event involving their Primarch and another party." I explain, gesturing to the crate I have on a hover cart behind me.

"Is there enough for all three of us? It generally works better when it's fresh. We're unlikely to get much from more than a mouthful and spreading it between us might be best. If you have enough. The smaller portion will keep us from getting overwhelmed by the foes memories as well as increase the chance one of us acquires the specific information you seek." Apothecary Sistus explained as he reached up to remove his helmet. The other two likewise remove their helmets and nod.

"I've done it a few times, I tend to get more structured memories. Usually tied to logistics." Silverclaw explains.

"I've only done it a few times but I've been consistent. I usually glean memories tied to intense emotional responses." Drallis admits. I smile "A mouthful each then. I have just enough for that. I've also brought along a palate cleanser." I gesture to a small box of super high-calorie tarts.

"Much appreciated, Ma'am," Sistus says with a small amused smile. I let them make a few preparations while I unlock the case, two of the three are meditating and the moment I unlock it they move swiftly each grabbing a small handful of the pink goop and stuffing it in their mouths. Two fail to hide the disgust from their faces but quickly close their eyes and chew. I wait patiently sliding forward the open box of tarts for when they finish. Silverclaw spits and quickly grabs a tart growling.

"Of course the foul traitor was thinking about his vile Primarch even when the Venerable was caving in his pathetic skull." I perk up and glance between the three as they discuss what each of them gleaned in the process.

"Any thoughts about the Primarch going into seclusion or suffering an injury?" I press.

"Less than a century ago there was something he'd heard related to the Primarch." Silverclaw frowned.

"Something about a bomb?" Drallis adds before he too reaches for a tart.

"Any more specific timeline than that? Or a name associated with it?" I ask glancing between them.

"There was a name but it wasn't clear. Ry? I think it was related to a system with 'Ist' in the name." Sistus finally says with a frown.

"The other memories related to their recent movements are all useless. His thoughts about his allies are a jumbled mess." I click my tongue but it would be just enough to confirm my suspicions.

"Less than a century ago?" I mutter with a soft hum.

"Thank you for your help. You can return to your duties… Ah! Please take the rest of the tarts, they were baked for Astartes and not fit for normal human consumption." It was a little frustrating that the Rylanor incident had already happened. Though more recently than I suspected. I tucked that information away for later. It wasn't entirely impossible. It would depend on numerous environmental factors, I could discuss the situation with Navigator Lily, after our operation in the Procession.

It would be up to fate, after all time was just another eddie that shifted and flowed in unusual ways in the depths of the warp. —-------------------- POV: Lord Inquisitor Agatha Striker"I need a document validated. And I want to ensure the terms still hold. It's... effectively a ten-thousand-year-old proof of purchase," Lady Cavalerio produced an ornate Mechanicus scroll case. Agatha watched as the document was unfurled and set before them. The vellum was slightly faded, but otherwise pristine.

As she began reading, her eye twitched." Cypra Mundi... owes you a Titan?" she asked flatly.

"They owe me my Titan," Lady Cavalerio corrected, as if that clarified everything. Agatha stared.

"How certain are you that it's still even on Cypra Mundi?"

"As certain as your Vindicare is the only one who can fire his rifle," she replied with unwavering confidence.

"I am the only one who can operate my Engine."

"I see." Agatha paused, then simply accepted it. With the Princeps, logic had long ago lost the war to precedent.

"What is this secondary document it references?"

"That would be the parts manifest. Unfortunately, it's a heavily classified Mechanicus document that I can't share with you. Suffice it to say, a number of rare and unique Archeotech components were provided from the vaults of both Legio Tempestus, Mars, and House Cavalerio to ensure the Engine performed to my standards." Several of Agatha's adepts, listening in, looked up with expressions of abject horror.

Agatha, recalling what the girl had done in a Knight, was increasingly glad this chapter of her career would soon be behind her.

"This document... this artifact holds," one of the adepts rasped, voice trembling.

"The clauses are adamantium-clad. The Engine is owed. If it cannot be provided, the sum total value is to be returned in restitution… with interest." Another adept was already crunching numbers, his face growing pale as he calculated the value based on a standard Warlord Titan.

"Great!" the Princeps beamed.

"I'd like that notarized in writing, if possible. I just want my Engine. I really don't want to own a Forge World. Yet." Agatha took a deep breath and nodded.

"Certainly. That's not a problem. We've also finalized the documents for Lady Genta. Her aid was… appreciated. Is there anything else?"

"Actually… yes," she said, grin widening.

"I have a few presents to deliver before you depart. For you, your team, and the Deathwatch." Agatha narrowed her eyes.

"Presents?"

"But… If you're willing to humor me. I'd like to make a friendly wager," the Princeps said coyly. Agatha's expression flattened.

"I bet I can say something as I leave that gets at least one of them to break their stoic facade. If I do, then you have to wait until you're out of the system to open your gift." She dangled like a morsel of bait.

"My gift being?" Agatha inquired considering the terms seriously.

"Yours will be a scroll. Penned personally by me. I've been practicing a bit of Divination," the Princeps admitted preening a little. Agatha steepled her fingers, watching her like a demolitions expert watches a ticking bomb. She would get the gift either way. The stipulation of waiting was unusual, but manageable. What really intrigued her was what the Princeps intended to say to the Astartes.

"Alright," Agatha agreed.

"I accept."

"Really?!" The girl's eyes lit up.

"I'll bring them by tomorrow before you leave." —------------------------------------- Agatha had anticipated that the visit from the Princeps would take place earlier. Her patience frayed as the hour of their departure loomed near. Fifteen minutes before they would lock the umbilicals and close the doors, the Princeps finally arrived with several industrial servitors and her guards. Agatha felt her temple throb.

"Lady Cavalerio. Are you aware of our schedule? We do not intend to delay our departure," she said in a clipped tone. The Princeps looked visibly confused.

"Of course, you shouldn't delay? Why would you?" Agatha pursed her lips.

"We are leaving in fifteen minutes." She glanced at the pallets being loaded into the bay by the servitors.

"Oh!" The girl finally seemed to understand "Sorry! We'll be teleporting back to the Argent Drake! I know it's a little late but you can proceed with embarkation while I dispense the gifts!" She flashed a teleport homer and smiled, "I already cleared that it was okay to do so with the Purest Shadow. This won't take long anyway so we'll be well within range." Agatha let out a weary sigh.

"So be it. Please try to remember to share such plans in the future."

"Sure!" Nicole chirped, but the Venerable Dreadnought, who was helping carry a crate, chortled in amusement. Nicole reached out and produced a sealed scroll with a flourish "Your divinations!" she declared, presenting it to Agatha. Agatha took the pristine vellum and examined it. The wax seal was fresh, and it smelled of barely dry ink. She had a feed from Magos Osook, who was scanning everything. Several items were flagged as dangerous, but the scroll was not one of them.

She tucked it into the inner breast pocket of her coat.

"Princeps, would you please explain the rather… dangerous items?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. Nicole nodded and pointed to a box.

"That one's for the Venenum assassin. It's a vial of synthetic maculotoxin. This one is a few rifle rounds I whipped up for the Vindicare, and I refurbished a digital weapon for the Callidus. Osook gets a dendrite I fixed up myself that I rebuilt using the base of a dendrite from your storage," she explained, pointing to each box.

"I threw in a few passable carapace sets and a few hellguns too." The Astartes' gifts were much larger. Only a few of them were wrapped.

"For the Deathwatch, I have two pallets of rather rare bolter ammunition in addition to individual gifts!" She said, preening.

"They are allowed to open their gifts immediately." The Deathwatch Astartes had removed their helmets as a sign of respect. She presented Sergeant Silvanus Gorane with a box. Grinning brightly and unable to stifle a giggle as he took it with a perplexed expression, unsure as to what was amusing the Princeps so much. Agatha gave him a nod, and he opened it to reveal a compact, gilded brass and polished onyx etched tactical board with a plethora of small movable pieces.

"That is a miniature strategium board, it's mostly for mental exercises and strategy planning. Complete with all kinds of minis!" She explained, still tittering as he inspected it.

"Thank you. Princeps." He said, looking thoughtful as he carefully repacked the minis. Agatha watched as she approached Morlith Ixion, the Marines Malevolent got a scowl "You were hard to find a suitable gift for!" she lightly scolded him. Passing him a box, he opened it and revealed a kit of some kind.

"This is a commemorative Purity seal set. It's been lightly blessed by Lael doing her saintess stuff. I wrote a few of the benedictions. Use them well!" Morlith looked touched and nodded, "I shall Princeps, I thank you for the lovely gift." He replied politely. Examining the seals revealed that they were made from deep crimson cloth and silver wax, each containing a different hand-written benediction by the Princeps.

Designed for each member of his kill-team, with different virtues: Courage, Mercy, Endurance, Vigilance, Sacrifice. She approached Apotechary Scalprum and gave him a nod as she passed over a slab of black metal.

"I borrowed this, it's your old Storm Shield, refurbished with a few customizations, fits over your narthecium now."

"This is good." He said curtly and Nicole moved on. Nicole approached Sundvek Beasthowl next and pursed her lips, "I couldn't make Fenrisian ale but… I did manage to throw together a few trial tonics with similar alcohol content and a few fine drinks from Ur-Haven. To go with this." She pulled out a massive dark metal flagon. He reached out and picked it up, looking at it curiously.

"I see black metal and bone… what is this made from, Lassie?" He inquired.

"Enemy terminators and a few recycled bits from their dreadnought." She replied sweetly, glancing back at Baldos. Sundvek burst out laughing, "A mighty fine use for them! I thank the mighty Venerable for sharing the spoils of his kill!" Last was the Dark Angel Tech Marine, Eradicus Azazel Rostar. Nicole presented him with a box.

"Your divination." She said softly, which was not at all what Agatha expected. Eradicus scanned the box and his face contracted into a look of confusion as he ripped the wrapping away and pulled out a small… rock?

"This is a scale model of Angelicasta?" He studied it and, after a long moment, asked.

"How is this a divination?" The Princeps just smiled with that mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she clasped her arms behind her back and hummed, "I'm sure if you examine it, you'll figure it out." Eradicus frowned and began to closely examine and turn over the model.

"With that, all gifts have been delivered!" The Princeps proclaimed, "I hope you enjoy them and use them well." Glancing at Eradicus, she giggled, "Sorry, Eradicus, I guess I can give you a hint." Agatha was paying close attention. Eradicus had turned over the model and was staring at a minuscule sigil carved into it with such intensity it was concerning.

"Sargeant Silvanus when you return, I expect you will go celebrate with brother from your chapter regarding the return of your Primarch?" She asked changing the subject abruptly.

"Indeed. Should we return to the watch station or encounter other Ultramarines. It is a great cause for celebration." He admitted with a smile.

"Mmm yes, I expect it will be for everyone celebrating the return of their Primarch…" She had pulled out the teleport homer and was fiddling with it.

"Which is why you should take Eradicus with you to celebrate too!" The Deathwatch team froze. As Nicole cackled and pressed the button on the homer.

"What!? Is that true!?" Eradicus screamed, the figure in his hand trembling as the familiar marking clicked in his mind. It was the personal crest of The Lion. Nicole turned to Agatha smugly, "Told you I could do it." She proudly declared, "I have spoken no lies! Have fun! Bye!" She waved, and Baldos burst into wheezing laughter as the gremlin and her retinue vanished. Agatha felt a sudden, intense urge to inspect the divination she had received, but she had given her word, and the Princeps had won the bet.

She stilled her hand even as she listened to Eradicus explain that Nicole had carved The Lion's unique sigil into the model of The Rock. They had no way to confirm if this news was true, but given everything she had seen so far from the Princeps it was… doubtful. Now she had to find a way to report the news of the return of two loyal Primarchs to her superiors. —------------------------------ A week later, the Purest Shadow jumped into the warp and left Ur-Haven behind.

Agatha sat at her desk and pulled out the divination.

"Lord Inquisitor Agatha Striker. Please accept my most sincere apologies for the contents of this document. I assure you everything in it is true or as true as can be trusted. You are the highest-ranking Ordo individual I can get this information to at this time so… Good luck." Agatha stared at the first block of information. There were two gaps in the Great Rift. Tiberian and Nachmund. They were both going to be heavily contested meat grinders.

Agatha had been told the Princeps's planned route for the Drakios fleet eventually terminated in Nachmund. The next part of the document was worse. An extensive list of radicals and traitors within the Imperium, along with their last known locations and what their crimes were. She knew several of the names on the list personally. Then a list of several planets that just said, "If encountered, Exterminatus." She read the page over and over, memorizing the document before she held it over a candle.

She watched the flames consume it inch by inch until it licked at her fingers. Her other hand held her rosette, it felt heavy and cold against her palm. How? That was the first question in her mind. The second... Did it matter? The information was simple. Clear, and a few people on the list would be easy to verify. If the entire document proved to be true… worlds would burn.

"You liked her enough to trust her, didn't you, Shadow?" She asked the ceiling. A faint rumbling purr emanated from the depths of the ship and the ancient chandelier that hung over her head, which had not once turned on no matter how many times she had it serviced, flickered on, bathing her in warm light. She sighed and closed her eyes and sat there for what felt like an age before she finally opened her eyes and stood. She voxed the bridge.

"Captain… There has been a change of plans. I'm altering our route. We have work to do."