The Subsector Project

Caomer Subsector – Ederon – 736.M41

  The surface of Ederon is wholly covered in a vast, dark, slightly acidic ocean. From the moment I laid eyes upon its wine-dark waters, I knew we had found it. The unceasing call of prophecy prickled me, even as my Thunderhawk bore me to stand upon its shores, urging me towards those I had been shown. Rain hissed upon the red-hot hull of the aircraft as the gangway lowered, imbibing the howl of wind.

The kilometer-depths below were punctuated by steep cliffs and mountain ranges jutting from the seas, volcanic island chains which were pushed from miles of liquid by the rage of a deep and unsettled core. The skies which buffeted my craft were constantly darkened with swirling storm clouds, the downpour rarely ceasing regardless of the dim twilight of day or the all-encompassing darkness of the night.

My ceramite graves crunched upon the rocky outcropping as the tumult rippled my cloak about me. Here, for reasons of strategic import and little else, the Navis Imperialis and their Administratum counterparts had seen fit to store vast bunkers of war materiel for the use of their battlefleets. Every dead volcanic cone honeycombed with rockcrete fortifications, slowly being eaten away by the eternal drip of erosion. It was a planet of buildings stamped from Mechanicus foundaries, slowly being consumed by the weather and the unstoppable forces of nature. The “custodians” of the installations measured in the low six figures, spread across multiple island chains, barely able to boast a single city between them, let alone anything which could be called a hive.

The buildings in the distant seemed meek, its inhabitants scratching a meager living from grow-habs. Sheltered from the wind and waves, they were able to make use of the rich volcanic soil; my interest lay in the others, those who found the true bounty of the world in the depths below. The crashing waves of the ocean teemed with life, plants and animals which would provide all they needed if they were stolid enough to brave the unpleasant chemistry of the sea. These folk were of a different sort, a stern metal awaiting the hammer blows to forge it.

The mariners who set sail from the inlets and cliffsides about the village live on borrowed time, on the border between life and death, temporary visitors to the unthinking, uncaring expanse. Eternal storms batter their boats and ships, threatening to annihilate them. This I had seen much of in my mind’s eye: a thousand days of dim twilight aboard the deck of a fishing trawler, only to be smashed against the rocks so close to safety. Minor navigational errors would compound to damn whole crews to wander the world-spanning ocean, unable to find home, or be found in the expanse. I’d watched their lights as I descended from orbit, a thousand winking glimmers of humanity against the black waters of the unknown infinity below, and now I watched their passage back towards the few sheltered mooring points.

I thought, then, as gales smashed freezing rain into my bared face, that Ederon was no place to raise a child. It was not a hive world, not a planet of buildings and homes, it was a knife’s edge where all were bound to maintain the crumbling infrastructure of depleted batteries lest they ever need to be used again. The planet was death for humanity, damned. In that, I suppose, we found common ground.

  Peteych was small for his age, and mean. That is to say he was not simply unkind, but also disinterested in being kind. Over and again, his father had told him to treat others with respect, lest they disrespect him in turn, and use it as a reason to cheat and dismiss him. Yet he persisted, insisting that it was better to cheat first, than to allow yourself the opportunity to be cheated.

Such was his belief, and from it, he would not be dissuaded. And then, who was there to dissuade him? His world was salt and sorrow, lashing winds and blowing storms. When he was at the tiller of his father’s boat, there was no higher power save the God-Emperor himself, and stars above that he had never seen.

Peteych could remember perhaps a dozen times in his life where the rains had calmed, the ocean had ceased to thunder and call to him, and he knew what one might describe as peace. I could taste his fear, each experience utterly unnerving, alien and foreign. Strife, conflict, the wail of wind and the crashing of waves, that is where he felt most at home.

At only eleven standard years, he was at once a brilliant mariner, and a known cheat, liar, and reprobate, known throughout his island as such, and completely disinterested in changing. Such an aspirant would not have piqued my interest in the days of our chapter’s power- indeed, I would have never allowed such an aspirant to even begin the trials.

Yet that power was gone, and for good reason, decisions of aspiration were now answered by the Emperor. It was not our place to question his word. It was not our place to decide, only to see.

  The gangway crashed down, like my Thunderhawk’s minutes before, but the mariners stood silent upon the deck, watching me. The boy’s eyes were wide as he saw me, waiting for him on the pier. To him, I must have seemed a giant, unbowed and unbroken by the wind which had long since bent his father’s back.

To his kind, I might have been a primarch, or even the Emperor himself. Such was the gap between us, an unbridgeable divide, that under normal circumstances, they would have never seen a single one of mine. But normal times were barred from me, and the Visionaries chapter did not have the luxury of circumstance.

“I have come for the boy.” My voice boomed above the wail of the wind, and the mortals flinched before me. I could feel the scars dragging across my face, silver lines on pale skin, a quartet of golden service studs affixed into my skull shining in the fog lamps of the craft.

There was no question, no room for hesitation in the minds of most. The mariners were servants of the Emperor, loyal to a fault, shepherded by the Ministorum despite the distance between them and Hemlock. All sank to their knees, obsequious when confronted by an angel of death.

All save Peteych himself, and his father. The old man hesitated, and I saw a flash of indecision upon his face. I have no doubt he loved his son, as any father does, despite the boy’s unwillingness to see reason. He was considering running, taking his boy and fleeing from me, as useless a prospect as the thought was.

“It is not your place to decide his fate.” I was not cruel, nor was I cold, merely matter-of-fact. Standard humans, even those pale and bedraggled as these, did not understand- they had to fight their instincts in the face of reason. “It is mine.” I spoke with finality, my hand rising absently to the bronze eye adorning my chest. It was the eye of the emperor, gazing at the universe, beholding his subjects as surely as I did.

For a moment more, the man’s shoulders were tight, high and alert as they could be while bent with age and years of toil on the seas. His hair, white and thinned by years of chemical exposure, whipped around him for a moment. It created a saintly halo which obscured his face and the expression below, be it horror or indecision.

His head inclined towards his son, as if giving him permission to step into his future. Permission was not his to give, either, but I elected not to quibble over the minutia of human emotion. One cannot comment upon what one does not understand.

Peteych’s legs shook as he crossed the gangway, approaching me with head bowed. I marveled at how short he was, how unlike other aspirants had been. I was reminded in irony of proud Solus, a baron’s son clad in certainty and finery as he began his trials, unlike the boy shivering before me. We had been the dream of a dozen worlds, every boy aspiring to be an angel until we chose only the very best of the best.

Now, I was a kidnapper, a revenant given control over the lives of a single outpost world. I tore families apart to make my brotherhood strong. Such was the burden the Emperor had placed upon me, which I would not force upon any of those who looked to me for leadership.

I turned as the boy drew abreast of me. I did not need to wait for him- obedience was assured. I had seen it in my dreams, and the visions they brought.

Now, he could see what was above him. Soon, he would see the stars.