The journey to the Mandeville point is calm. More a case of getting my metaphorical ducks in a row before a long journey, rather than starting anything new.

I check in with JK-404 on my Hyper Intelligence augmentation. The best that could be said of that is JK-404 is confident she can get it to work as all the instructions are present, but understanding it and explaining it to me isn’t going to happen any time in the next five years. Integrating the upgrade into the Marwolv genome is even more challenging, though not impossible.

The first prototypes will likely be cloned Servitor brains, one that may lead to full androids and perhaps a recreation of the Men of Stone if we really push it. Neither of us are keen on pushing artificial intelligence so far though, even with the extensive Warp protections I build into everything. More flexible Servitors, especially for complex combat scenarios and maintenance, like internal security and battle damage repair, would be welcome though. I would love to automate my tanks more as well.

Calligos Winterscale badgers me for several meetings, most of which involve him showing off his extensive collection of artefacts and relics while quizzing me on Cult Mechanicus doctrine. Calligos wants to hold a massive conversion ceremony and have me perform the blessings for his induction. I agree in exchange for his accounts on running his territory. I am interested in the problems he has encountered and how he solves them and Calligos has decades of anecdotes to share.

Our conversations are intense, yet rewarding. We do not really click like I did with Tech-Marine Balor as there is always an underlying tension; we are rival Rogue Traders who both don’t want the competition, yet understand neither of us can stand alone in the Koronus Expanse.

Canoness Ephrine Stern attempts to shake me down for resources for her growing Order of the Valorous Heart. I refuse her initial request as I do not have the production capacity to outfit a regiment of power armoured battle nuns without Iron Crane. At least, not while I’m trying to refit multiple void ships and reissue much of my infantry equipment and stockpile reserves after forming so many new regiments.

I do, however, agree to hand over old Herald equipment as it is phased out of service and provide mock weapons for training. I don’t trust the penitents enough to have a proper armoury on their ships, or the newly indoctrinated Sisters from the Penitent’s ranks. Any serious equipment that they need will be remaining on my vessels until I can acquire a dedicated voidship for the Order.

To my surprise, Ephrine also agreed with me. Once we realised that there was a misunderstanding. She is used to putting orders a century in advance and was quite shocked to realise we could complete her request in less than a decade. Ephrine apologised once she realised how rude her request looked to me and we had a good laugh over it.

One of my most common duties is to dine with my senior officers and captains on their voidships. It’s a chance for an unofficial inspection and to smooth any issues before they require official action.

I also continue to hold my commendation dinners for exceptional crew. Alpia has begun joining me for these commendation meals, giving them even more importance in the eyes of the crew. It still bemuses me that I am the 40K equivalent of a celebrity.

Alice Riccal, the woman trapped in my soul, is doing well. She has little sense of the flow of time and spends most of her time learning to meditate, or learning other skills that I occasionally teach her.

Now that I no longer accidentally eat every soul that passes within fifty metres of me, I am confident in putting her soul into a Servitor using a modification of the spells the Emperor taught me to gather souls and pass them on to him.

Oddly enough, there is little administration I need to do. Mostly signing off on routine expenditures and pre-planned projects. I don’t need to create any detailed proposals of my own. Day to day, I complete my shifts on the bridge, running drills and performing standard operations as the need arises.

With Brigid freed from her duties administering SR-651, we are able to go on a couple of dates. Nothing serious, just a few walks in a simulated space, and an evening of sedate dancing at a cocktail bar in Torchbearer’s new promenade. Neither of us had realised how little time we were spending together until we actually took a few moments for ourselves.

Brigid is rather smug after I told her more about my past. She always gets like this after solving a particularly gnarly problem. I let her attitude wash over me as I really don’t think poking at it would do me much good when I am the cause and solution.

After Reina brought the Navigators back to my attention, I add an hour a day to my routine where I play with the twenty-four navigator kids left in my care. I read them stories, give them hugs, and chase them around the room in whatever the latest game with bizarre rules I have no hope in following is the order of the day.

The kids are smart though, they know there is more to me spending time with them than I let on. Even the youngest are used to being constantly judged and are just as quick to pick up the importance of a Novator hanging out with them. For all I attempt to disguise it as giving these discarded children the love and attention they require for proper development, I am evaluating them.

I intend to adopt up to four of them, depending on how their personalities develop and how many more children Quaani and Annette have over the next decade. I am not interested in skill and power, for those can be taught and trained. Instead, I am looking for kindness, empathy, and intelligence.

I won’t be telling them the selection criteria either. If they’re not smart enough to observe how the Stellar Fleet functions, and the personality of its leader when he spends an hour a day with them for years on end, then I can’t afford to take them on; no matter how much I want to give them all a home with me, I will have to pass them on.

After ten days of accelerating to the Mandeville point, the Fleet tightens its formation even further until it fills a fifty kilometre sphere. Torchbearer’s first officer has replaced me on the bridge and will be running the vessel for most of our travel.

I am floating in a tank of psy-sensitive liquid in the Navigator’s Spire. Small breathing masks are attached to the cyborg snakes growing from my back. There are a dozen cables plugged into the silver collar around my neck, leading to another ring above the tank.

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The ring connects to huge banks of cogitators that hum around me, their lights blinking and fans picking up to an almost overwhelming buzz. I filter out the noise and watch Brian and his fellow servo-skulls hovering around the room, constantly checking the cogitators for faults and finding none. Seeing everything is in order, I connect to the void ship.

My mind unfurls as I become Torchbearer, feeling the icy void upon my hull. The Machine-Spirits quieten as my will spreads over the ship. The Primary Machine-Spirit syncs its systems with my own thoughts like a large, pushy pony, butting heads with me until I have resolved every single safety issue.

After precisely two hours of checks, the Primary Machine-Spirit’s voice booms through the ship, its low, grinding tones, repeating its message in Low and High Gothic, then hissing in Lingua Technis.

++Charging Warp Drive. Brace. Brace. Brace.++

A thirty minute countdown starts playing on every pict viewer and dataslate. I even notice the Machine-Spirit brushing aside the security of every single audio and ocular implant and overlaying it with a countdown with an ease that even impresses me. I did not know it could, or even would do such a thing. This guy really has some tricks in his chips!

Everyone is already in position as the Primary Machine-Spirit wouldn’t even let me start charging the drive until everything and everyone was in its place, so we all twiddle our thumbs, secure in sleeping pods or strapped to our stations as we wait for the drive to charge.

When the countdown hits five minutes, I trigger the Novis Coven Link and connect to every Navigator in the Fleet. We pool our minds and wills acting as a gestalt intelligence. Over two dozen voices fill my head and I integrate their thought streams with ease, their minds far slower than my own.

A black dot appears before Torchbearer and slowly expands until it merges with all the other black dots from the other vessels. Suddenly it snaps open into a vast portal crackling with violet tendrils and rippling with eldritch power. The portal stops moving relative to us and we slam through it near instantly and burst into the Warp.

There is an absolutely massive crash and the whole ship shudders as we crack through a thick layer of an ice-like obstruction that covers the surface of the Warp. Alarms blare and the lights turn red. My body twitches as I feel horrid shards of twisted space slice into the hull, opening parts of the vessel to the Warp.

The armoured cog covering my third eye recedes and I inspect the other void ships. Every vessel has taken minor damage, though their Gellar Fields hold for now. A hail of diamonds thunders upon us as the last clouds of the Warp storm spit upon us with malevolent sorcery. Void Shields ripple and flare as they absorb the gemstones and banish them elsewhere.

For a moment I am concerned that demons will strike us during our moment of vulnerability but the skies and seas are empty, utterly devoid of Warp entities for the Immaterium is alight with golden flames in a bubble an entire light year across.

The Fleet levels out and sails just above the ice, skimming the Warp at its shallowest as damage reports come in and compartments are sealed. Twist Catchers and Psy-Errants are deployed, looking for intruders and the inevitable horde of people who have been driven insane by their first touch of the Warp.

My own people are likely fine and we probably won’t find any demons on board, but I don’t fancy the chances of the poor buggers on the other ships.

That isn’t my main concern though as I tug on my connection to the Emperor and attempt to locate the Astronomicon. Even with the Emperor guiding my gaze and the collective might of over two dozen Navigators, none of us can spot the Astronomicon. We’re too far and Alpia’s flames are far too bright, her radiance occluding any chance at orienting ourselves with Terra.

The four realms of the Dark Gods are eager to offer an alternative, their realms calling to me through a haze of golden heat, eager to drag me to them in an instant should I peer too closely at them. Huge jungles, unending libraries, towering brothels, and grand arenas, each perfectly tuned to catering to my curiosity and desires. I set them aside with practiced ease, their temptations meaning little to me with my family to anchor me.

Unlike the last time I braved the Warp, there are new beacons to draw my attention. Silver and golden flames burn through the oppressive skies of purple, blue, green, and red. These, I assume, are other Imperial and Mechanicus Saints. I fire commands at the cogitators and send requests to astro-gyration to see if they can match the new beacons to known locations.

I’m not expecting an answer anytime soon, so I direct the Fleet through the Coven Link along our precalculated route. Thanks to the two ‘new’ Warp Abacuses we have and the extensive maps from House Ortelius I am able to keep the Fleet on track.

I watch as Vice-Admiral Thalk’s fleet splits off and heads to Solace Encarmine, a Pleasure World. Its orbitals are controlled by Calligos, though the planet, allegedly, has no allegiance beyond a token recognition of the Imperium.

Thalk gave me all sorts of excuses as to why a Pleasure World is his next stop, like gathering all of the merchant houses and other self-important fools to inform them of ‘the new player in the Expanse’ and ‘introduce young officers to the Imperium’s greatest supporters’, but I don’t buy any of it.

I think that he gets slipped extra resources for patrolling a popular destination more frequently than necessary and wants to slack off after dealing with me and the constant disasters that seem to follow me like, well, a Bad Penny.

Weeks pass and we drop out of the Warp to reorientate ourselves at Dolorium, then Falcon’s Fall Gamma.

While Thalk and I were both travelling spinward, his route takes him via Laithmon’s Death, a dead xenos world covered in cracked, crystal monoliths. It is rumoured to have been inhabited by the extinct Yu’vath at one point. Now Medusae and other creatures lurk in its cyclopean mazes.

I wish that Thalk could bomb the world on his way past as the idea of floating, parasitic brains that grow edible fruit full of the memories and sensations of their victims disgusts me. He won’t though as you never know what else you might stir up and the Drukhari might target him if he bombs a world full of their favorite pets, not that they ever really need an excuse to cause trouble.

You know what, if I was required to patrol a world like Laithmon’s Death, I’d want to visit a Please World afterwards too.

Our next stop is Lucien’s Breath. This is one of Calligos’s worlds so we don’t just pop in and out of the Mandeville point. Instead, we spend a month in the system for Calligos to gather news and check his holdings.

Lucien’s Breath is bleak. Neither myself or my people set foot on it, unwilling to risk ourselves in the heart of Calligos’s power. We use the excuse of needing repairs to avoid offending him after refusing his invitations.

The ghosts haunting the nephium pits and ruined xenos cities are a complication I could do without. I can see the lost souls from orbit. Calligos scoffs when I tell him about them, claiming they are a myth. The maddening edge to his laughter suggests that, for all his denial and bluster, he’s well aware of the horrible state of his prized planet.

Soon we are underway again, this time with a much better idea of where we are as astro-gyration has finally identified two of the new beacons. Our journey is much smoother. We don’t run into any jagged space, nor are we harassed by Warp entities. We do pick up a few unknown signals. They could be hulks, lost worlds, or traps, maybe nothing at all. I will never know as we do not go looking for trouble.

Four months after we left SR-651 we blast enough energy before us to rip a hole in reality and flee the Warp, arriving at Footfall.