Cyn sank into the chair, and it comforted to her body like she was born to it... not because of supernatural means, she thought, but rather because of its quality, the way the shock-resistant foam shaped itself over to back and ass. The moment she sat down, there was a flash of red, a retinal scan, and then panels in front of her lit up... a holographic projection of star system maps on one side of her, a three dimensional wire frame of the Spear of Destiny on the other.
As Cyn spoke, the servitors at stations moved, their screens flashing by as the servitors obeyed her commands. A second later, the date popped into place in the air in front of her.
45.23.12 M41.999
As she asked for communications, servitor screens flashed by again, and words appeared floating in the air again.
NO ASTROPATH ABOARD
Of course. As she wandered through the ship, her psychic senses would have picked up any other crew. There was no one aboard but servitors. Surely the ship could function with just them, or else the ship would have hardly been here for her to board it, but without a crew some things simply couldn't be done. Communications out of the star system were impossible without an Astropath, and while Cyn might be a psyker herself she had no idea how the delicate art of sending messages was done. She would need to recruit crewmen if she wanted competent hands managing things, and specialists if she needed things done.
For now, though, she already knew what she needed. Nostromo nodded at her command. "Yes, Mistress. Back to Mara." He turned forward, raising a hand to uncover his third eye as he faced out into space, hand clicking blindly over a control board for several seconds until the viewport went brilliant white, the ship leaping into the warp... leaving Dusk and her choice behind.
Would the Inquisition understand what she had done? Should she even tell them? Legally they wouldn't be able to punish her, not anymore, but legally the kill team that had already been sent after he couldn't be sent either. For that matter, what would Lissandra say? If the echoes she had seen were any indication, it seemed likely she had made it off world, or would with Cyn's help, but that was only a hope... and Cyn knew nothing of what the woman would think when she learned of Cyn's choices.
As the ship stormed foward through the Warp, the Blind Eternities flashing by her in a blaze as a protective metal sheet slowly closed off the view, Cyn was left alone with her thoughts to wonder if she'd done the right thing.
She didn't know how long she had brooded in silence when her console beeped softly. Words appeared in front of her again. Coordinates. They lit up a starsystem on her map, a brilliant red dot. The Kronos Expanse... ten thousand lightyears from here, outside of the Calixas sector entirely. A place she had never so much as heard of, much less imagined she could someday go.
The words appeared in front of her.
THE PATH BEGINS
GOOD LUCK
Somewhere, out there in the stars, there was a way to find Gideon again. She felt sure of that... that Erasmus might be mad, but he hadn't shattered the bonds of space and time to return without his answers, without what he sought, and he never would have stopped looking if he didn't have what he had given so much for, would never have given away his Warrent and ship if he still needed them. Somewhere out there, there was a way.
She just had to learn what she was willing to sacrifice to get it for herself.
It is the 41st Millennium.
For more than a hundred centuries the God Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that he may never truly die.
Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty ships cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars. Their way is lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants -- and far, far worse.
To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten and will never be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.
END
