Chapter 2: Warp (1/2)

Slowly, the shock of becoming an orphan, alone in a middle of a hostile galaxy worn off, as my mind concentrated on the important goal of survival. I had to prove myself a worthy ship Captain, a skilled Rogue Trader and at least a decent general for my small army. Otherwise, I would find myself kicked out from an airlock, with the ship's Navigator finally happy to be rid of my Blank aura.

Not that my aura works like normal Blanks do. I read they create instant hostility into anyone with a soul, or at least a minimal Warp presence, something humanity has in spades. Feeling your soul getting absorbed into a menacing black hole would explain the hostility, perhaps.

Luckily, I am not one of those natural and rare Pariahs. My gift is bland and merely protects myself from the Warp, something which confuses those more sensitive to the Warp, but doesn't burn their soul. Of course, it also protects me from astropaths, telepaths and diviners, as well as other potential troubles like daemonic possession and all those visions or dreams so common among the crew.

Not that I need visions to plan ahead. Somehow, I remember perfectly everything I seen of this universe in my previous life, although the order of the events is sometimes different. I have my own theories why this happens: maybe my memories got scrambled, or some local deity plays with time, or the Emperor himself dreams on his Golden Throne and changes things, perhaps subconsciously.

I do recall the existence of a special Inquisition Order, Ordo Cronos, that investigates timeline manipulations. And there are other beings around that play with time, be they Necron or C'tan, Eldar or H'rud.

But for now, I focus on the task at hand, proving my genius and savant status, by using my expensive implants to run the logistics of a planetary invasion from my Captain's command chair. I am also very lucky and do not fail.

The conquest of Retribution lasted merely months.

Then again, we had a cruiser in orbit, 5 kilometers of guns, armor and cathedrals, too able and willing to impart Retribution on these heretics.

Paired with air superiority via our fighter squadron, and liberal use of Mechanicus noosphere magic, the ground-locked enemies were rapidly corralled and captured, or killed if they resisted.

Either way, the planet provided fresh replenishments for the depleted lower decks, new serfs and other lower servitor castes being inducted, stamped and cyborgdized into more useful forms.

I even convinced Magos Gyron to begin installing servitors as targeting heads for our long range torpedoes.

It took a dozen trials, but now our long range weapons could turn and attempt homing while the propellant lasted. The efficiency increase was over 300 percent this time, but sadly my own area of control was limited by the Warrant.

Back in Empire Space, my words were feeble and likely without any true power, but here on my Ship, I now spoke with the Voice of the Emperor.

Something even the Mechanicus Cult was not likely to defy, just like every other members of the crew or the military we carried.

It will take a few more generations before the regiment fully transformed from an auxiliary Mechanicus unit to my own household regiment, but my father had already began that plan, replacing sergeants and corporals with loyal soldiers, sending difficult officers on long range reconnaissance and other dangerous missions.

I didn't want to stir things too much with the grenadiers, but I did want a proper armored regiment if that was possible. My clan was rich, very rich. I could afford to pay for new machines and equipment from my clan's budget, if we really needed to.

I named Lord Swedros, my Father's XO as planetary governor on Retribution, and gave him all the old Chimeras, half the new servitors and a grenadier battalion formed by the least loyal troops, as well as one orbit capable shuttle.

The guy seemed rather pleased at his new post, and probably thankful I didn't simply space him. That was the tradition after a Captain change among Rogue Traders.

But I didn't want to waste a competent guy, simply because I didn't like or trusted him. He could still be useful, making Retribution productive again, in a few decades.

”We head to Antax now, I'll need my Warrant ratified and some new equipment.” I told my new bridge crew, still mostly clan members but with an enginseer and a more pliable auspex tech priest added in for extra points of view.

I knew I could get away with minor quirks, and myself being mentored by a Mechanicus Magos was no secret among the clan.

Not that anyone could tell we were related just by looking at us. Genetic diversity in the galaxy was enormous, and grandfather had over 30 wives during his millennium long life.

My father had been more conservative, with only half that many wives, including my own mother that nobody knew where she had come from, and where she had gone.

I had a few pics of her, platinum hair and green eyes, and a rumor she was a witch. Probably a Blank, if I think on it. Still a witch, but the good kind in my view.

Keeping away the Warp was a nice gift she gave me.

I had a strange feeling I will meet her again, but hopefully not from the other end of an Exitus rifle. The Vindicare assassins are rather famous for training Blanks, after all.

Back in my mechanical lab, I go over a few more projects, all of them attempting to simplify and enhance Imperial technology with varied degrees of success and heresy.

We have a hand-held melta gun to analyze and rebuild, the standard template lasgun, an auspex sensor based on lasers, and my masterpiece: the tri-barrel multilaser.