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Book 2, Chapter 18 - The Word of Blake[]
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Meeting with Mystical Figures[]
Odessa System, Lyran Commonwealth
01/08/3052
COMSTAR Dante Frigates patrolled the dark icy shoals surrounding Odessa IV ‘Eris’ far removed from the warmth of Odessa’s primary. Shards of frosty stone shattered against armored prows further obscuring everything in a crystalline haze that grotesquely refracted their running lights. A large icy planetoid loomed large amongst the rings; from the proper angle one could see what appeared to be a great maw leading within easily mistaken from some monstrous void creature.
The ‘Ruins of Gabriel’ lie within, a dozen reinforced ring habitats surrounding two large voids capable of encasing a Warship. These habitats reminded Precentor Martial Photon Brett of his wife when she wore to many bangles and not just because they were incredibly loud.
He looked out from the central observatory into the now empty cages where Dantes 11 and 12 CS Styx and CS Virgil had just completed outfitting. Now it was merely a well-protected supply depot for his COMGuards, which would soon deploy against the Clan Occupation Zone. Either that or it would be a hidden redoubt from which to hinder the Commonwealth’s industrial potential to aid COMSTAR’s enemy should they lose the will, or capability, to fight.
Most of the Titan Yard’s crew had returned to Sol with the Faslanes so the halls were much quieter than they had been over the last months. Photon walked past the docking collar where his Seeker waited to the salutes of the Guardsmen assigned to his detail. An alert rang out over the halls, “Incoming unidentified KF-blooms.”
Photon caught and rode a cable toward the nearest node along with other COMSTAR Space Command and COMGUARDs officers. The KF-bloom resolved to reveal a dozen JumpShips and a large Warship in their center. He zoomed in on them to see the seal of the Jovian Imperial Defense Force and a different one on the Warship. “I recognize only one of those factions Precentor Martial. What is the bloody hand?”
“Manei Domini, the Hands of The Master, although you might know them as The Cult of Mars. That Warship is the CS Word of Blake formerly known as the SLS Enterprise.”
“I thought they were just a legend.
Boogiemen to tell Neophytes and children.”
“Maybe they were before, but no longer.” Photon grasped the table and reassured himself with a pat on his needler pistol. “The stories you might have heard about them are however very true.”
As the IFF resolved the alert was relaxed, he opened a channel to Precentor Admiral Beresick, the ranking officer aboard the station beside himself, “Alain, you should roll out the red carpet for his Imperial Majesty Baldric the Fourth.”
“What about the Master?” Alain spoke with trepidation, almost fearful at the mention of that name.
“I will handle him. I just need a shuttle.”
“Thank you, Photon. The Word of Blake has issued no hails.”
Meetings with Loyal Sons of Blake[]
Atocongo System, Lyran Commonwealth
02/04/3052
Photon gripped the bars leading to the airlock attached to the S-7 Shuttle as he looked toward the crew backlit by an eerie crimson light. The main cockpit looked out toward one of the CS Word of Blake’s hanger bays with strange looking fighters hanging from the ‘ceiling’ as small drones shuffled along the deck. “Don’t open this door for anything but me.”
“Aye.” Precentor Martial Brett donned his helmet and triggered the soft white lights attached to the off-gray marine combat suit.
They looked toward one another with concern, “He did say any ‘thing’ right?”
The Co-Pilot shuttered the main view window from the cockpit then locked the shuttle down after receiving an all clear signal from the outer door of the airlock keeping incompatible atmospheres separated. They all drew laser pistols and waited in the bloody light. “Aye.”
Outside Photon’s boot was nudged by a small robot with a central track of tiny electromagnets emerging from both sides of its body, “Have I dropped so low that you send this as my welcome?”
His sloth caused the robot to bump him again, his comms synched to the Enterprise’s internal Battlenet displaying a map of the internal schematics. An AR overlay showed the names of the various machines that scurried and swung through the hanger bay. “Lead the way Unibot.”
Skittering two to eight legged robots and nimble flying machines shared the halls with asymmetric cyborg abominations. Photon was uncertain whether he found the robot’s formless chrome visor masks more or less disconcerting than the silvered dead eyes and uncannily colored ‘flesh’ of the Manei Domini. Cables and pipes snaked throughout the ancient Warship burrowing into every opening. Passages from The Word of Blake in High Dominus adorned the walls like obscene graffiti written in blood.
He could make out of it since his Greek had improved while leading the Sahara Project, but the AR overlay did the rest. All these passages did was remind him just how twisted Thomas Marik had become in his role as The Master. If only he had used a slightly bigger bomb none of this might have happened. Nevertheless, if Thomas stayed out of the way and brought a gigantic alternate target for the Clans to shoot at then his uncle’s disconcerting presence would be a net benefit.
As he neared the central command deck the number of cyborgs increased dramatically. They looked aside or down at him but said nothing through their helmet comms, at least in public. A six-limbed lady cyborg monstrosity and giant man made of myomer and metal barred his way further. Photon waited for a moment while the unibot continued, before turning its strange eye stalks back at him when it realized he wasn’t following.
“They didn’t give me a password. Perhaps Open Sesame shall suffice or shall I begin reciting the Heart Sutra, Talmud, Rawḥ al-arwāḥ, or something from Rumi and Azami.”
One of them, the giant, bared a mouth of metal, “You dare to insult us, frail.”
“What is life without a little daring?
You have a beautiful smile by the way.
I have also always wished to have a few extra hands. Particularly in space. Tell Doctor Cortland and Caligula I look forward to seeing what new horrors lurk in their laboratories. Particularly if they mean to deploy them against faithless Clanners.”
Somehow the owner of the extra limbs carried more energy than his own wife when she was in a mood. It must have been the extra layer of arms presently topped with tri-claws taken from a combat exoskeleton crossed over her chest. “You are no more of the faith than they are Precentor Martial. You do not believe in the Word thus Vapula has no interest in sharing his secrets with you or any of the unenlightened.”
“I believe in the Word’s ability to accomplish tasks.
However, I have no interest in voluntarily removing my meaty, sinful bits any time soon.
So, they can keep their secrets if they desire.
Now stop stalling, your Master expects me.”
Although they made no motion to do so the door opened, its triple armored door meant to protect the command deck where robots and cyborgs monitored screens. The central holographic projector displayed a hyperspectral display of local space near the Word of Blake. All around them was a large fleet of Jovian Imperial Forces and Manei Domini operated carriers and assault dropships. Photon walked forward as the door closed behind him toward the wizened form of Thomas Marik who looked up at the projector while a large dark-skinned man directed subordinates.
“Always good to see Apollyon in action, Thomas.”
“He is a faithful servant. Although he must return to Shiloh then to his people and is merely gracing us with his presence while we shakedown the Word of Blake.”
“So, you are to lead this battlegroup?”
“With assistance from Gabriel Station. No one is more qualified to command this vessel than the one that saw promise in it and spent years rebuilding it.
It has been my ordained task to lead it into battle against our foes, as prophesized.” His smile was made monstrous by the faux flesh and metal of his cheeks. “Are you afraid for me?”
“As prophesized by whom?”
“Myself.
The Word of Blake stands against its foes within Ruins encased in darkness.
Remade as it was, Unmade by its creators, to be built anew one last time.”
“You spend to much time in the desert, Thomas.”
“As do all those who make history, Photon. I have a gift for you to take into battle with the COMGUARDs. Noelani!”
A woman with similar features to Apollyon appeared with a gold and silver reliquary box wrapped in white and red cloth. “Within this are the bones of Julia Hartford. The first of the order I now head. One of the unspoken saviors of COMSTAR and with it, humanity.
If you consult her bones. You will find answers to many questions you might encounter in your darkest hour.” “You want me to take the bones of a dead woman? To do what with?”
“Take them with you and have faith Photon. Otherwise, you will find no victory against the Clans.” One of the smaller holoprojectors displayed a propaganda image from the One Star Faith of ilKhan Showers and the other Khans aboard the McKenna’s Pride somewhere in the occupation zone.
“They believe in the righteousness of their cause and strength of their Leaders because they show it.
You must as well, or the COMGuards will fail as surely as the LCAF has. They need to believe in your and something larger than themselves.
The sooner they realize that the less opportunity the Clans have to gain victory against us. Time is short Photon.
I foresee the next months will make or break the Blessed Order that has stood for centuries as the Guardian of the Inner Sphere.
The one that many other martyrs have died to protect. Precentor Martial you will make martyrs of those under your command. Saint Julia was merely an early adopter. Now go.
Fulfill your Oath to the Primus, fight valiantly to preserve our Blessed Order and earn your place in its history. Do not disappoint me nephew,” he brushed burned skin with a cybernetic arm, “you were meant for more. As am I.”
Photon entered the shuttle to find the crew jumpy with laser pistols out and pointed toward him. “You’re back Precentor Martial. What is in the box?”
He put the finely crafted box into a larger overpack container built into the walls of the shuttle. “Martyr’s bones.”
“That’s very interesting Precentor Martial.”
“Can we leave? This ship gives us bad feelings.”
“It seems too empty for how many fighters are onboard. Something about it just seems wrong.”
“There are many things wrong with The Word of Blake. Its emptiness though is quite intentional. You are better off not witnessing what I have. The real monsters live in the darkness.”
Their console beeping confirming the shuttle is cleared for departure. “Monsters?”
“Aye, monsters. Right out your darkest nightmare.”
“Yessir,” the pilot and co-pilots hands raced across the console clicking buttons and switching levers, “beginning departure protocol. I’ll take the belters over any monsters.”
Photon locked himself in the jump seat behind the engineering console. “Captain. If I had the opportunity I would too.”
- Author's Chapter Comments
- The Conjurers were also damaged already and the battle was turning against them. The sudden arrival of hostile air support just hastened their departure.