“Chorda,” says Lir, “is a hidden Relic World in Jericho Reach. It is not well known and you will not find it on any map or document because anything about it cannot be recorded other than its name, classification, and purpose. One can only describe it to others by speaking.”

  “That’s not a classification I’ve heard before. Also, those implications are horrifying,” I say.

  Lir nods, “It is most disturbing to see one’s ink run upon a page, or letters scramble on a dataslate, even as you type them. A Relic World is a world with an active, independent relic from the Dark Age of Technology, or Xenos origin, that is not and cannot be controlled by Humanity or any other faction. The Warp Gates to Jericho Reach would be an example of an uncontrollable, active relic.”

  “I understand.”

  “Chorda is a gas giant in the habitable zone of its star. The whole planet is surrounded by a void and gellar shield of immense strength. There are no other planets, moons, or asteroids in the system. Even the Oort Cloud is missing. All have likely been collected and turned into an array of defensive satellites that would make an Ork blush as well as thousands of domed, floating islands the size of continents, or even whole worlds.”

  “How fantastical! I dare say most who hear of this world do not believe it. Especially without recordings.”

  “Indeed. I have only visited once and I will likely never see it again. The world has a habit of only being found by those who need it, or stumble upon it. I have a map that contains its general location, but no more.”

  “I see, and what does Chorda provide?”

  “Chorda is a living repository of plants from around the galaxy. The intelligence controlling the world, believed to be a rogue STC or AI of some kind, will provide the seeds and other samples of plants required to terraform a world or restore a damaged biosphere along with its knowledge of the provided plants and how to use them.

  “This is not a free service. One must provide resources for trade, and while it is not possible to communicate with the controlling intelligence, there is a station on the edge of the system one can dock at. The station is minimal, with no services of any kind save for a single cogitator.

  “When one uploads a list of resources and data to the cogitator, they will be offered a number of points with which to trade with. The controlling intelligence is more generous if you include a well thought out plan for what you intend to use its samples and data for. It also values flora, and symbiotic fauna, that it does not have more than resources. STCs sometimes work, but usually have a value of zero. The same goes for modified organisms. There are also some hidden criteria we are unaware of.

  “Some people it just won’t trade with and we do not know why. Attempting to deceive the machine, or damaging the station and cogitator will result in a disproportionate response that matches the nature of the offence. It is not always clear what sets it off either, so if you do visit, be forthright and respectful. It is also expensive, so don’t bother turning up with anything less than a Universe Class vessel stuffed with refined elements. Preferably rare ones.”

  “Verlin was trying to bribe me with tea,” I say. “I might not even find the place even if he tells me of it!”

  I barely restrain myself from grinning like a loon. Praise the Machine-God for my iron body.

  “Your obsession with the drink is a running joke in the Stellar Fleet. Of course he would attempt to exploit your weakness. Will you still help him?”

  “You know I will. You are aware of our debate on Verlin’s status, yes? Much of it is resolved by your unplanned appearance, but I would still like to know your stance.”

  “I will give you the approximate location of Chorda regardless,” says Lir. “Make Verlin the greatest champion that you can. While Canoness Ephrine and I clear out the Zombie Plague for you, I want you to overhaul our Dreadnoughts and their pilots. Let them walk among their brethren, free of pain.”

  “I’ll see to it personally and provide backup Dreadnaught and Janus shells for Verlin and any other entombed marines so that none are beholden to me for repairs should we part ways.” I hold out my hand and we shake.

  “The deal is struck. I appreciate your willingness to avoid complications, Aldrich. Aengus has finished showing Ephrine around Grave’s Bite for now. I will take you to one of our planning rooms and we can converse further.”

  I down the rest of my drink. “You’re welcome. Please, lead the way.”

  It only takes a couple of hours for us to hash out a workable plan and I soon return to Torchbearer for my scheduled family time.

  Inquisitor Lyre Hamiz is in talks with Vice-Admiral Thalk von Styrvold for four days before he bothers to talk with me again.

  Meanwhile, I visit Petitor Veritas, Lyre’s Enforcer-Class light cruiser, each day to talk with Enginseer Prime Talliel-Iota-5.

  Lexmechanic Caldro Belenopha, the Adept that I healed, has become the Enginseer’s latest apprentice. The young man is not special in any way, but his peers consider him blessed by the Machine-God and not promoting him was causing Talliel-Iota-5 trouble. Caldro even installed a clear window in his own chest to show off his fixed mechanical heart. His other implants, mostly limbs and cranial implants, have been gilded.

  I turned the window back to flesh because it was another source of infection and give him, and his companions, the other four idiots I fixed, a scathing lecture on appropriate modification.

  Talliel-Iota-5 sits in on the discussion, never ceasing his work directing others via cherubim and noosphere messages, mostly smirking behind his rebreather at their discomfort. Apparently these Adepts have been getting rather full of themselves and Talliel-Iota-5 still prefers to let people crash and burn rather than properly explain anything. He has, at least, made good use of the Owl-Class Machine-Spirits I provided.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Later, Talliel-Iota-5 and I engage in several other philosophical discussions as well as tinker with Luminen technology. He also takes the time to answer some of my questions about the information he gave me on the Lathe Worlds as part of our previous trade.

  Talliel-Iota-5 gives me a dossier on the leader of the Lathe World delegation, Abbisine Vakul. Abbisine, according to Talliel-Iota-5, belongs to the Divine Light of Sollex and is a high-ranking lackey of Arch-Magos Rulwure the Golden, the second in command of the Lathe Worlds. Talliel-Iota-5 doesn’t trade anything for the information. He doesn’t like Abbisine’s faction though, so I suspect he’s hoping I will cause them trouble.

  Abbisine and her delegation are currently on Iron Crane, staring at the vessel's internal shipyard and have done so since they arrived. They’re currently watched by a squad of incredibly bored Heralds and Dragon Guard.

  The visiting Tech-Priests are so lost in their thoughts and discussions that the Heralds have managed to get the delegation’s Dragon Guard to play cards over vox.

  This is a ploy by Lonceta and Maeve, hoping the Dragon Guard will let some information slip, but I suspect this is a two way deception as both sides are far too disciplined to not be messing about unless it is sanctioned by their superiors. The Dragon Guard are so heavily modified I’m not even certain they can feel boredom.

  Eventually, Thalk is done with his discussions with Lyre and immediately embarks on an impromptu inspection of every Imperial vessel trapped in SR-651. I’ve no idea what Lyre said to him, but he’s clearly decided to make the most of his time while he waits for the Immaterium to settle.

  Lyre invites me to his office. The room is absolutely spotless. On one side is a wall of scrolls, books and dataslates. On the other are numerous pict viewers displaying data feeds that are almost certainly fake. His minimalist desk has a single auto-quill hovering above an ink well and a stack of fresh paper to one side. I get the distinct impression that the office is little more than a set piece.

  Behind the desk are a wall of taxidermied xenos monsters. The centre piece is a full sized, Catachan devil that is positioned so that it looms over the Inquisitor, framing him in an unnecessary show of intimidation.

  There are no seats for guests. Thoroughly uninterested in Lyre’s games, I approach him and for once actually use my powers to levitate as if I am lying in a beach chair, doing a fine impression of a mythical Jinn. I make sure to hover slightly higher than him. Not much, barely more than a centimetre, but enough that he has to look up at me but not so much he can call me on it.

  Lyre’s quill continues to scratch across a document and he does not even greet me. I’m rather annoyed at him so I project my current HiveSim game from the holoprojectors built into my arms, similar to the projectors used by Vanus Assassins, and start playing. I increase the decibels of the catchy soundtrack by one for every minute the Inquisitor fails to greet me.

  After forty minutes, Lyre finally gives in.

  “Good day, Magos Issengrund.”

  I shut down my projectors, “I see you are finally done with your games, Interrogator Hamiz.”

  “That’s Inquisitor Hamiz, Magos.”

  “Evidence to such claims have been rather lacking.”

  “If you dissolve my symbol of office again, I will shoot you.”

  “Truely, you are a symbol of the Emperor’s mercy.”

  I take a more sensible pose, crossing my legs and hovering upright, my palms resting on my knees like an ancient shogun.

  Lyre says, “I require your account on your unexpected time travel as well as your data on managing mutants, especially the hold you have over navigators.”

  “The Tau were just an excuse for an audience?”

  “Yes, though we shall still speak of them.”

  “Lyre, why must you keep stirring shit until the nuggets fall out? Your little stunt of mentioning the Tau in front of Calligos, Thalk, and Ephrine has seen me bombarded with untraceable requests for Tau courtesans and an attempted raid on Charon. The Stellar Fleet has repelled over twenty Shark Attack Boats, four dozen gun cutters, and another eighty-three intra-system vessels. My Aeronautica now has to waste its time escorting every single shuttle flight in the system.”

  “There’s an easy solution to that. Besides, the disruption will end once they all leave.”

  I look Lyre straight in the eyes and say, “I will not execute prisoners out of hand and you know the troubles won’t disappear even if I did. Those escorts will have to remain in perpetuity. You have cost me an immense amount of resources and personnel, and more importantly, you have wasted more of my time than your entire life is worth, all for a petty attempt at intimidation and an entirely unnecessary excuse for a meeting.

  Lyre scowls, “So much for your vaunted good manners. Just spread some opposing rumours, it will all go away eventually.”

  I hover slightly higher and lean forward, “Lyre, you have affected the speed at which I can restore SR-651 and purge the Zombie Plague. No matter what I do to mitigate the rumours, I’m going to have to invest in defences sooner than I should have to, lest a bunch of horny idiots damage my nascent shipyard. Your stupid stunt could well cost the Imperium several planets. Even the entire Black Ship of broken minds and potential demonic portals trapped in this system is less trouble than you. I am going to leave and we shall not meet again until you have a proper apology at hand and a way to correct your mistake that doesn’t involve a war crime.”

  I stand, “Good day to you too, Hamiz.”

  I turn around and stride from the room, leaving the tight lipped twat stewing in his pretend office. I am rather pleased he gave me an excuse not to put up with his interrogation and give up any of my precious data. I’m sure he’ll try and wheedle some information out of my crew, but I’ve used their MIUs to place a digital gease upon them.

  My crew can’t talk or communicate about what the galaxy will look like in two hundred years because they no longer remember the details, their memories and my records having been disconnected and locked away. There’s even a timer on the memory blocks, so everyone knows when they’ll get them back, and the timer is accompanied by a long list of nasty side effects they could cause to themselves and others if they poke at paradoxes.

  I was rather displeased to give the order, but I can hardly shoot them, then myself. The best I can do is minimise meddling in the future and accidentally creating a bigger disaster. The only thing I am certain of is that the Cicatrix Maledictum existed. I don’t know if the fall of Cadia actually happened, or how. All I have is a bunch of digitised books that have, so far, proven as prophetic as they have been inaccurate and I do not want to test my luck. I’m certainly not going to tell an Inquisitor about a possible goose chase that could divert massive amounts of resources from other warfronts to stop an event that may or may not have happened. Besides, dressing down the Inquisitor was immensely satisfying.

  After speaking with Lyre, I spend some time with Annette and Quaani as Annette enjoys an unexpected reunion with her parents, Silas and Fyona Ortellius. As they will be in the system for several months, a party is planned to celebrate the restoration of the Ortellius navigators.

  I’m still a week away from preparing sufficient ritual ingredients, but no complications are expected. It’s the first time I’ll be hosting a party and it will be taking place on Ardent Bane. There are a lot of factions in the system and this is a chance to show everyone what we are doing to fix the situation and provide some distracting entertainment.

  It might even distract me from the disaster Lyre dumped in my lap too.

  Warhammer 40k Lexicanum, , and . I've also enjoyed opinion pieces such as: , The via Gamespot, and . While not strictly 40k, they are good for inspiration and IRL explanations.