147 – Diplomacy

147 – Diplomacy

My final choice fell to a nice hill in the middle of a set of grassy plains. My strategic sub-brain whined a bit, but I easily overrode its largely useless reasons for natural defences with the fact that I could make natural defences of my own later if I so wished.

Also, fortifications made by me would be much harder to destroy and go through for an enemy force than ones made with my own new materials.

By the time the Ethereal’s own fancy little voidship entered orbit, I already had the foundations of the building down along with the much needed reinforcements done for the ground below.

My base, my headquarters, was going to be a gigantic star fortress. Sure, it wasn’t super modern in the eyes of a 21st century girl like me, but the people of this galaxy loved building big and impressive.

Its base was, of course, a pentagram with five smaller pentagrams out at the tips to make up the star. I think I’m also going to have to build a flagship once this thing is done, and maybe even a defensible mobile space station like the Phalanx? Hmmm. I’d also have to build orbital defences around the planet and then the system as a whole once the Tau sod off from here.

The moment I caught a landing shuttle break through orbit, heading right for my position, I sent an honestly staggering amount of bio-energy into the construction before me and the whole fortress started growing up based on my mental blueprints like a tree.

It even looked like a tree, one with ashen white bark and it wasn’t even just a stylistic glitter I threw on top but an actually useful defensive layer. That white bark was supposedly almost as good as Adamantium.

With the whole fortress being almost a grand total of four kilometres across and fifty metres in height. Though the latter was still growing at a respectable pace. The very tippity top of it was going to be five hundred metres up in the air.

My Zedev-sourced Admech knowledge told me the Imperium had a scant few star forts that were not just ground bases, but fully mobile space stations with Warp capabilities too. That new tidbit dampened my self-satisfaction at my new building somewhat, but oh well.

I’m going to have one of those two at some point. A fully mobile space fortress.

The shuttle gently landed behind me with surprising grace and silence, even its thrusters merely hummed instead of the usual roar.

The door of it opened up with a soft hiss, pulling up as a ramp extended down and I spun around to lower myself into a graceful bow. With my perfect control over every muscle in my body, I made it perfect, almost eerily so.

Of course, the first people out were the honour guard of the Ethereal, not the man himself. They were all kitted out in the fanciest battle gear and held pulse guns at the ready, but not aimed at me as they fanned out to survey the area.

The Ethereal, the Magister stepped out of the shuttle even before they gave him the all clear. He was a Lord, the lowest rank of their Caste, but the man still had a pair of Ethereal Guards walking just a step behind him as he trotted down the ramp and came over to my still bowing form.

That was kinda rude, if I was a regular human my back would be hurting by now. Oh well.

“Rise, Captain ... I’m afraid I don’t know your name yet,” the Ethereal said in a friendly tone entirely unbefitting of what most Imperials would have expected from one of his rank. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

I rose slowly, glancing around the armed and armoured guards now encircling the two of us and then at his two Ethereal Guards like I couldn’t feel their presences clearer than day before.

“I’m afraid I’ve discarded the name I’d been given in my homeland,” I said, smiling at him. “I have not thought of a new one yet.”

I sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the name Echidna, that was for sure. I didn’t want it to spread, or by some miracle reach any Imperial agency spying on these Tau.

“Do go ahead,” I said, motioning for him to continue with a continued lack of any outward fear for what he was about to say. “I’m listening.”

“You seem like a woman who appreciates straightforwardness in negotiations, Captain.” Coldstone leaned forward, intertwining his fingers on his lap as he narrowed his eyes. “I have worries, so do the rest of my Ethereal comrades ... which is why you are talking to me, a low ranking Lord instead of someone higher up. And because you have given no indication that those worries might be realised, is why I am here at all and not a kill squad. So answer only this honestly. Are you what your Imperium considers a ... Witch?”

So they do have some rudimentary understanding of Psykers. Fascinating. I wonder how deep it goes. The question spread a wave of startlement over the regular guards, not that it showed in their body language, but even with their tiny souls, I could feel it wash over their cute little auras when they were practically swimming in my own aura.

I leaned back, my carefree smile slipping a little as I gave the Ethereal a coy look.

“Depends on who you are asking, and what interpretation of a ‘Witch’ they are deciding it by,” I said, noting the fact that he used the Low Gothic word for Witch. Seems like they didn’t even have a word of their own for Psykers and their ilk. “Some would most certainly call me one, but so would they call you a Witch if you so much as waved one of your light bulbs in their faces. They are ignorant, the vast majority of them are anyway.”

“And you are not?” He challenged. “We know overconfidence is a vice as dangerous as it is deadly for those wielding powers ... believed to be beyond mortal comprehension.”

“I like to think that I am not,” I said, shrugging. “But let’s go back to your initial question, define to me what you think a Witch is and I’ll give you an answer.”

"A Psyker, or Witch, is a being with the ability to manipulate forces beyond the natural world,” Coldstone said, his voice taking on an intonation alike someone quoting a passage they’ve read long ago. “They tap into powers that can be unpredictable and dangerous, often serving their own needs rather than the Greater Good."

“Going strictly that definition, my answer would have to be ‘Yes.” I nodded, willfully ignoring the way how even the Ethereal guards tensed at my admission. “But if you change the wording just a little bit to ‘They tap into the powers of the Warp’ etcetera, which is, by the way, the source all human Psykers draw their powers from, then my answer would be no.”

“You claim to get your power from somewhere other than the rest of your kind?” He asked, still sounding conversational as he gave some signal to his guards which dissipated the tense atmosphere they’d created. “Something safer? Less dangerous? I will be honest with you. As you seem to have been with me, many have called for your swift removal to prevent any possible danger your mere presence in our Empire might prove to the Greater Good. Convince me, no, give me something so I may convince them not to go ahead with that plan. Let me help you, so you may help me, and the Greater Good as a whole.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, half curious and half surprised. He sounded genuine; he felt genuine, sincere even. That was a surprise. He wasn’t just trying to shove that all down my throat and use me, but he really seemed to believe that I could be a positive force in furthering the Greater Good.

“You are a strange man,” I said, kicking my feet up on the coffee table of roots. “I expected a kill team, threats, maybe an attempted imprisonment. Maybe an attempted kidnapping at one of those close to me. I suppose your words could be taken as a threat, but I feel they were not meant to be so. Hmmmmm.”

“Diplomacy should always be the first choice of any civilised being,” he said with all the conviction his small, blue body could hold within itself. “Even if it seems to be all but futile, not that I think that is the case in this specific instance.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what I could say that would convince your ... comrades?” I tried, then shrugged, not really knowing what other Ethereals would be to Coldstone. Comrades, maybe? “I’m still not all that familiar with how things work around here, which is mostly why I asked to be placed out in here, on the fringes. Along with the fact that my ... war-crew aren’t all that fit for polite society.”

“I’ve been made aware of the latter, Orks.” He looked like he wanted to say something, but was reluctant to let the topic shift away from what he wanted to talk about. “They would want assurances, assurances that you won’t have a sudden, unexpected, but extremely grisly and destructive end like all Witches recorded in our archives have seemed to have.”

“I can tell you all the platitudes in the world that you like,” I said, shrugging. “But none would convince you. I could reason with you, but you know far too little of the Immaterium and its workings to know whether I’m lying to your face or not. All I can tell you is that I am quite certain I will not have any end, even remotely similar to any Psyker your Empire might have had the displeasure of stumbling across. And that even if I did, it wouldn’t matter out here in this stretch of war-torn space where I am just as likely to blow up your enemies as I am to do so to your own.”

“We usually aim for precision and reliability in both our technology and training for our troops,” Coldstone said evenly. “But I can see your meaning, still, I doubt it would sway many.”

“Then let the benefits sway them,” I said, huffing out a laugh. “Let them know the dangers and then tell them of the benefits that so far outweigh those dangers that they’ll seem insignificant.”

“Benefits,” he said, leaning back and glanced around at the moon that had been nothing more than a dying ball of rock just days ago. “Do tell me more.”