Getting Warhammered [WH 40k Fanfic]

“It’s not,” I said, pouting at Selene with a huff. “I didn’t even enhance their bodies. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You gave your bureaucrats, the equivalent of Adeptus Ministorum scribes, better weapons than I bet most official assassins have on hand,” Selene said with a weary sigh, knowing she would not be getting through to me. “I don’t know how you can say giving them a neurotoxin potent enough to fell a Carnifex could be anything short of going massively overboard.”

“If I am to be their mother I am not going to half-ass it,” I said defensively. “The least I can do is make sure they are as safe as they can reasonably be. It’s not my fault this galaxy is such a shithole that they can’t get by with just a pepper spray and need neurotoxins instead!”

Selene stilled, her eyebrows furrowing in a mixture of confusion and a hint of worry. “You’re going to take that mother bit seriously? I … didn’t get the feeling you felt that way before.”

“I still don’t,” I said, shrugging uncomfortably. “I don’t feel like a mother, or love them like one, but I can act like how a good one should, and I will.”

“I won’t be able to change your mind, will I?” She sighed, looking at me with a mix of pity and admiration. “You are stretching yourself too thin. Caring about too many people in this world is a recipe for endless grief. If your enemies learn you care for them, they will turn into a weakness they can, and will, exploit.”

“I just said I don’t actually care,” I said. Selene raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I did!”

“Riiiightt,” Selene said, dragging the word out. “What was that about spending five hours of your entire brain power on developing that memory storage bead? Sounds like a perfectly reasonable thing to do for someone who doesn’t care.”

I just threw up my hands and turned away from her, there was no convincing her. I knew how it looked, but I was aware of my own feelings, more aware than Selene seemed to be. It was logical to do all those things, though maybe it didn’t seem that way to someone who didn’t read about the Emperor’s demigod sons rebelling and throwing in with four Satan knockoffs because daddy didn’t tell them he loved them. 

Most of the ones that turned out fine actually had parental figures in their lives like Guilliman, the Khan or Rogal Dorn. Sure, there was the Lion as a counterargument that a lack of parents was the end of everything, who grew up beating Daemonic beasts to death with his fists since the day he crawled out of the cradle and still turned out fine, but he was just built different. 

I was not going to get myself curb stomped by my own damned creations. Actually, looking after them a bit and caring for them is just one part of ensuring that.

Standing on our balcony, fingers tightening around the railing until the metal started creaking, I stared out at the vast wilderness beyond the distant city walls. 

Everything is going so well. Too well. I can’t become careless, not yet and not for a long time to come. I have a path to the future I want, but it’s one among thousands and a single missed step will send me falling off of it. 

From an entirely pragmatic point of view, my daughters were a strategic and emotional weakness that needed elimination. I was not entirely pragmatic though and never would be. My actions shaped me, my choices moulded my ever-changing soul. What would murdering all of my cute daughters with their own wants and needs and emotions do to me?

I don’t want to know, and if I have my way, I’ll never have to know. 

Selene hugged me from behind, her arms locking around my waist as she rested her chin on my right shoulder. My tight grip on the railing loosened, and I noticed I’d accidentally made an indent.

“Be careful,” Selene whispered. “We are playing a dangerous game. Your ridiculous powers even the playing field a bit, but we are up against a galaxy filled with monsters. We will get stomped on like a pair of bugs by one of the many giants living in the Milky Way if we mess up even a little.”

Necrons, the Imperium, Chaos Gods, C’tan and who knew what other horrors hid in the darkest, unexplored sections of space. Selene was right of course, she always was.

“I know,” I murmured, placing my hand on hers, crossed before my stomach. “But I think it would be a mistake to do anything but what I am doing right now.”

“It’s impossible to raise more than a thousand daughters,” Selene said gently, tightening her embrace in an effort to comfort me. I think. “There is simply not enough time in the world, there never will be. I … would understand it if you wanted to raise one, maybe two or three, like a regular mother. But thousands? You are setting yourself up for failure.”

“You are acting like I’m a regular human,” I said with a smile. “Why wouldn’t I have enough time when I could just make a thousand copies of myself and split my mind among them?”

“Won’t that be harmful?” She asked in a worried tone. “Having your mind split in so many ways for an extended period of time. You said you didn’t want to do anything like that.”

“I have a feeling I’d have to get comfortable with it sooner or later anyway, might as well start now on my own terms,” I said in an absent tone, taking a moment to think my next words over and try to be as objective as I can manage. “I am also doing … better. Much better. I feel more stable than the first time we met, I don’t even remember the last time I had any truly horrid urges … besides the pragmatic one that wanted me to eliminate my new daughters. I’m certainly more stable than before though. … right?”

Selene hummed thoughtfully, affectionately leaning her head against mine. “I think you are right, now that you mention it. But you can’t stop being diligent the moment your efforts bear fruit, or you’ll take two steps back for everyone you took forward.”

“I am not permanently splitting my mind,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I am being careful. As careful as I need to be without sabotaging myself. I’d never advance my powers if I never took any risks, and you know very well the risk of this going wrong is tiny when compared to some of our other projects.”

“How are those going by the way?” Selene asked, in apparent curiosity. 

“The detection net is just about set up,” I said, taking a moment to connect up with that telepathic sub-network. “It’s not perfect by far, and there are still holes in it, but someone would have to detect every constantly shifting asteroid housing one of my gravitational sensors to have any chance at making use of those gaps. I’m confident it’ll catch anything short of some Age of Technology bullshit. The Dyson Swarm is up and running at the limited capacity I’d set for it, though it’s already earning me energy almost at the same rate as the pillars I’d planted into the moon’s core. Besides that, tech is coming along nicely, my mind-cores are working on making a blueprint for just about every tool or everyday convenience I can think of using the materials we can find on-planet.”

“No sign of the Ethereal yet?” she asked after a moment.

“No,” I confirmed. “What are you thinking?”

“I think you might have spooked them a bit,” she said. “You claim to have obliterated a pirate fleet their battleship couldn’t even sense, then demolished their base of operations and came back with fifty million humans now living in newly constructed arcologies. I think the Tau might be a touch intimidated by your pace of progress and the power you’ve shown.”

“I didn’t show them any power, they’ve seen nothing,” I said. 

“They can probably extrapolate,” she huffed. “Some will probably say it was a lucky break on your part, running into weak pirates, while others will probably assume — rightly so — that you’ve hidden the majority of your combat prowess when dealing with them. At the very least, I think they’ll be much more careful the next time. If they do at all.”

“Cutting their losses now would be idiotic,” I said. “Tau should be all about diplomacy and bringing others under the umbrella of the Greater Good.”

“Curious how the only races they’ve brought under that umbrella have always been weaker than them and easily subdued, should the need arise,” Selene said in a conversational tone. “There were murmurings in my … previous circles that the Vespid, one of their client species, are actually mind-controlled through those helmets the Tau gifted them. The Kroot are barbaric savages who’ve given up on their technology, and all of the other Tau client species are practically incapable of combat, or are a non-threat to even just a regular guardsman regiment. Think you and what we’re building here will fit into that mould?”

“I will,” I growled, a sneer on my face as I stared up at the sky, my eyes piercing the impossible span of space between myself and the Tau warship above Vallia. “One way or another, I will. I need to fit, so I will. If they decide I don’t, then I’ll make them change their stupid mould and make it fit me.”

“That sounded …menacing,” Selene said, though I could hear the affectionate smile in her voice. “I like it. The Tau don’t need your pity or respect. Self-righteous blue assholes.”

I raised an eyebrow at the heated tone of her voice, there was a hint of real hate in there. Was there a reason for that, or was it just the byproduct of Imperial upbringing? 

“Had any bad experiences with them, I should know about?” I asked, making sure to sound more gentle than curious.

“Nothing specific,” she said after a moment, sounding a bit awkward, which she tried to dispel with a delicate huff. “Self-Righteousness of all kinds annoys me, I think, and their offhand remarks, derisive pity gets under my skin like few other things do.”

“Another thing we have in common,” I said wistfully. “I think I’ve been quite lucky to avoid running into any of the Emperor’s more fervent believers so far. I’ve … never quite understood zealots, or even just deeply religious people.”

“I’ve had blessedly little interactions with the Ecclesiarchy,” Selene said. “There were some Priests who dealt with our House, but they were not the zealous kind but the sort that used their standing as priests to further themselves. I’ve seen rocks more faithful than them.”

“I’m sure both of us will experience the entire variety of Emperor worshippers before too long,” I said with a wry grin. I could already imagine my fuse running short when one idiot called me an abomination or a heretic one too many times, believing their distant God-Emperor will protect them from being turned inside out. “For now, we can practice not murdering them on the spot by dealing with these uppity fish-heads.”

“Is that a royal ‘we’ I am hearing?” Selene teased. “I’ll let you know, I am perfectly capable of appearing like I’m a polite and delicate little girl while mentally strangling whoever I’m talking to in the privacy of my head.”

I just rolled my eyes, then patted her, whose arms were still locked around my waist. Reluctantly, she let go, and I was allowed to turn around and face her. 

“Well, how about you in all your wisdom and experience help me get ready to receive those fifty ambassadors the arcologies will be sending?” I asked.

“Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?” Selene raised an eyebrow. “I’d bet at least half of those arcologies won’t be able to actually elect anyone properly, or if they do, they’ll start some chaos anyway. You should prepare to handle that first.”

The events of the next two days proved Selene right, thoroughly. Once the initial shock of everything new and strange faded, the people seemed to latch onto the one way I’d given them to control their fates: the elections.

There would be a council of representatives in every arcology, headed by a Mayor. They would be responsible for most decisions about the inner bureaucracy and workings of the arcologies. Then there were the elections about the ambassadors, who would be coming to meet me and air their grievances or problems.

I had been initially quite happy with my initial government system, but then reality smashed into it and beat it to pulp with a sledgehammer. 

Of course, anyone could run for mayor or for the representative seats, but with the short notice I’d provided, nobody had any time to run a campaign or make their names known among the populace. This means that, outside of a few rare outliers, the most votes any one person got were in the double digits.

In an arcology with a million inhabitants, that was problematic. How would it go over with people that their new Mayor was some no-name asshole they’d never heard of who got elected because his grandma popped out twenty kids and his entire extended family voted for him?

Not well. Apparently.