40 Thousand Reasons

Chapter 67: Farseer

Time passes so quickly when you have fun, and I did try to have as much fun as possible.

Simply holding my eyes closed, beside the Sounding Board in the Pharos and observing the galaxy and the people living in it was fascinating enough.

I even teleported a few grenades to help some desperate guardsmen in some place, the shrapnel of those krak grenades exterminating an Ork band and their battlewagon.

But I couldn't effect true change like this, the galaxy was too big and crawling with all kinds of enemies, inside and out. I could only have fun.

For example, I stole a Conversion_Beamer from a fallen Space Marine, and left instead a melta charge. Those cultists will not loot my prize, and defile the corpse of an Astartes. Instead, they melted in howls of pain and torment.

Then I located a shitty Inquisitor from the Phaenonite faction, and stole his weapons and ring, and the ancient Flare_Shield in his possession. His body in a tall spire in some Hive world, filled by his perverted cult, vanished in an atomic blast that should erase all evidence of an invisible hand acting from the shadows.

But I mostly kept an eye out for my family, using the bird eye view to guide them towards victory, even when outnumbered and outgunned.

"Pirate Cobra, hidden behind that iron asteroid!" in a daughter's ear worked just fine. Another krak grenade on that pirate bridge made things even funnier. No more ambush, and instead we captured another destroyer for the clan.

And if a Blood Angel trainer happened to explode by accident, it was possibly the Emperor's Will. Next time don't load the trainer servitors scheduled for my Blank sons, with live ammo. It might backfire.

As for my Black Rage buddies in the coffins, I could only offer solace and comfort. Also ask the Angel to help them a bit.

They weren't exactly conscious, so I'm not sure if they heard me.

The tech-priests on the Canticle kept making warheads and storing krak grenades in the teleportarium, just for those kinds of special moments where fate met Pef and had to switch tracks.

Then one day I just found a Mark III Shrike Pattern Bolt Sniper Rifle on a deserted world rooftop, so I grabbed it because it was free. Sure it will need care and some tech-priest repair and consecration litanies, but it was an amazing weapon, firing bolter rounds as far as a tank.

Meanwhile, the Forge Master on the Battle Barge worked day and night to produce those Rosarius shields for the Space Marines, while my own tech-priests started a dedicated forge line for the Mechanicus variant. It worked rather in reverse, being based on logic and reason instead of faith, but it still worked. High ranked tech-priests on the Canticle and the Requiem achieved the same results as myself, and my friend Minoris seemed immune to any damage.

He did have unwavering faith in me and my 'Revelator' powers, for some unknown reason.

As a result, I was hastily shaved clean of all hair and most of my epidermis, as well as nails clipped and other body liquids extracted, for science. All that so more tech-priests could receive the Logic Shield with my blessed genes conducting the will of the Machine God.

It wasn't really logical, but then no religion is. All that matters is that it works.

The orbital forts began to take shape, a hundred asteroids dragged into Sotha's orbit, but not all in the same plane or elevation.

We could only make Ion Shields and patchwork Rosarius shields for them, as well as for the Aegida. But any defense was better than nothing.

And it didn't take long for that defense to be needed.

By the seventh month at Sotha, a fleet of Ork vessels appeared, led by a large Terror_Ship filled with assault craft and fight-bomba.

I was in fact in need for extra guns and armor plates for my forts, so these morons arrived just in time.

I took a quick 'toilet break', to empty my plasma warheads directly inside their ships, and when the Astartes and the tech-priests boarded the listing hulks, they found mostly carnage and shredded Orks, burning ammo bunkers and incinerated spacefighters.

Putting out the flames was proven more difficult than pacifying the leaderless Orks.

Both my Blood Angels and the three Companies of Scythes present were quite awesome at demolishing the Waaagh-less Orks, because without a big boss, they always fractured into small tribes fighting each other without any strategy.

With the influx of salvaged human-origin weapons and void shields, the Aegida battlestation took only three months to become somewhat operational, and was even decorated with a few immense eagles carved out from the more destroyed Ork ships, while the 11-kilometer-long Terror Ship was being anchored to the side for emergency repair.

The giant ship might have been a mass-conveyor at origin, although a very old one. Either way, I could use the hull to test the Necron engine once I had it.

The first Tyranid tendrils were already diverting towards the Bone Kingdom, because the space travelling bugs weren't all that smart, only hungry.

And then the Eldar arrived, and it wasn't all that fun anymore.

They had to have a Farseer with their fleet, and perhaps they had a Webway portal somewhere in the outskirts of the star system. Almost certainly, in fact. I will need to use the Pharos and locate it.

So, I engaged the savant implants for a minute, while watching their slim ships prowl around the defensive ring.

"Captain, Vox transmission from the Eldar." the auspex cousin said in a derisive voice. I wasn't known to chat with aliens, quite the contrary.

But I did have these Eldar where I wanted them.

"Tell them to hold. I need to take a piss." I pronounced with a wry voice, followed by the general laughter of everyone on the bridge. "Really, Vox Master. I'll be back in a short time." I added as I walked out the bridge, flanked by two guardian Blood Angels.

"... You have that biopouch inside the armor, Lord Pef." my escort Astartes explained patiently.

I nodded wisely. "Of course, Astartes. But a Captain can't wet himself when meeting with some high-nosed xenos. They might smell it." I said in amusement as the elevator reached the Teleportarium deck.

So useful, this magic device. No more risking myself into a shuttle, or waiting for landing clearance.

In a minute I arrived back in a Pharos, for a quick check on the state of the Segmentum and my family.

I sent Janice the traitor Inquisitor's ring as a gift, paired with a "Keep trying sweetie!" encouragement.

Navigator training was really hard, but she will need it.

Then I turned my mind-eye on the Eldar, exploring their vessels and armaments. It would be an even fight, even with the Battle Barge and my Canticle. We also had the forts and some escorts, and perhaps the Farseer didn't find an easy victory, even with his squadron of Shadow-class cruisers.

So they tried talking.

And so could I, without Vox transmission or other witnesses.

"You wanted to talk, Farseer. " I sent empathically, while I kept searching for that elusive Webway.

"... How? Nevermind that. You need to leave this cursed place at once. A great evil will arise from here, unless we destroy that melted rock you're trying to defend, Mon Key!" the Eldar Farseer pleaded with pathos.

Nah, not buying it.

"Craftworld or Corsair?" I asked while closing in on the location of the portal...there. Far in the cometary cloud, and covered in perpetual ice. Nobody could find it among trillions of similar objects, unless they cheated.

"We are of Craftworld Telennar." the Eldar confirmed with a proud voice.

"Yes, those craven Eldar are known predators upon the humanity. And now you come claiming salvation, when deep under the magma lies an imprisoned C'tan. Thus, your craftworld is condemned, by word, action and by intention. Rot in Hell!" I exclaimed while activating a warhead and depositing right on top of the confused Farseer. I bet he didn't see that coming.

In quick succession, I delivered 30 more plasma warheads inside all the Eldar ships, causing immense damage to their delicate conduits and circuits, and eliminating the officers and their entire bridges.

Then I began flinging Krak grenades in the engine rooms, massacring their engine specialists and preventing them from fleeing.

And then I returned to the Canticle, slightly wobbly on my feet.

"Must have been a long piss, Lord Pef." some Battle Brother joked in a knowing snicker.

I punched his pauldron in return. "Have you grown a pair of balls, Astartes? Very well, there is a squadron of Eldar ships in need of cleansing. Stand by here for deployment."

The big space marine just nodded and checked his combi-bolter. "Fast buggers, the Eldar. " he commented with grim determination.

Soon enough, I returned to the bridge and sat in my command chair. "All ships, battlestations! Tactical teams prepare for boarding."

Then I turned towards the surprised clansman at the Vox console. "Send them my reply, cousin: We're coming to talk, lower your shields and prepare to be boarded."

Astartes Certes traded something with his buddy. "I get to board the long-ears, you stay and defend the Captain." he proclaimed proudly and ran for the door.

I just sighed inward. Damn kids with big guns. But they'll do for now.

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