Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Six
The Warp Drive room is one of largest components on a void ship, on par with the enginarium. Depending on the vessel class and component selection, Imperial vessels require as much as a third of their vessel dedicated to ‘engines’.
As far as I can tell, this is a bit exaggerated, and 25% is far more common than I first thought. It’s a little tricky to tell from external pictures alone without proper schematics available for every Imperial design.
The misconception, I suspect, comes from the chonky rear third of the Lunar Class cruiser. Not only is the Lunar Class one of the more common vessels, every other cruiser class is based on the Lunar Class as well, including some Battle Cruisers as well, giving its shape an oversized impact on descriptions of Imperial vessels.
This rear section does take up a third of the vessel on the Lunar Class but as battle cruisers based on the Lunar have a third port and starboard ‘weapon slot’, where those ‘engines’ supposedly exist, and battle cruisers based on the Lunar aren’t much bigger than the original design, it becomes pretty obvious that 33% engines is a wildly unhelpful descriptor.
Not only that, what this reference to ‘engines’ really refers to are thrusters, power generation, and Warp drive, and all their supporting infrastructure. For example, capacitors, cooling, workshops, crew quarters, fuel storage and so on, with every vessel having a different layout and design.
Does fuel and plasma storage, or the tertiary generators distributed through a void ship count towards this 33%? I don’t know. There is no listed definition. Every single vessel has a different amount of storage, auxiliary generators, and supporting facilities too.
To really muddy the waters, records across different authors are not consistent in their terminology either. Some differentiate between thrusters, and power generation. Others do not. I, too, am likely guilty of this in my ramblings, which is just embarrassing! I am a Magos. I really should be better at this.
My seething irritation at Emil Astoris, Karrad Vall, and legions of Administratum drones does little to detract from the one conclusion I can make from this. Warp Drives are big. As in tens of millions of cubic metres big for a cruiser. The one on Spear of Commerce is the largest I have ever seen.
It’s hard to tell from a close up shot of Karrad Vall, but I’d say it's somewhere between 120 and 160 million cubic metres. Even at its smallest, it would have a volume of approximately 75 Burj Khalifas, a unit of measurement as outrageous as it is imprecise.
I say this because the designers of Spear of Commerce decided to really show off how big its Warp Drive is. Rather than place different systems, like speciality generators, capacitors, and warded cogitators, walled off by armoured bulkheads and thick radiation shielding, the builders of Spear of Commerce have used clear barriers of armour glass and void shields.
This construction choice no doubt increases the power draw and expense of the Warp Drive. The amazing thing is, despite the drawback of using armour glass and void shields, instead of one of the many Imperial armour composites, Spear of Commerce likely has the most resilient Warp Drive I have seen and I just can’t stop gushing over it.
I have often wondered what a machine large enough to open a hole in the Immaterium big enough to swallow a city would look like outside of a simulation and it is beyond even my wildest imaginings.
The Warp Drive components have been arranged like a spear through the vast, vaulted room. Coated in precious metals, especially gold and adamantium, and glowing with silvered runes, the Warp Drive is a masterpiece of engineering and I am incredibly jealous.
Pipes and power conduits are neatly lined through the room, humming and crackling with exotic, eldritch fuels and enough energy to rival a red dwarf star. Hundreds of near heretical, non-organic machines float and skitter around the space, monitoring and tweaking systems. They chant hymns, waft incense, and dab sacred oils, unbothered by the disgusting intruder in their midst.
Karrad Vall stands by the primary focusing lens, a vertical structure shimmering with an unfiltered view of the Warp. My Tech-Priests have filtered the image, blacking out the pict recording where the focusing lens is present, but I have no need to imagine what it looks like. I can peer at the Warp with my third eye whenever I dare to do so.
Tearing my attention from the Warp Drive and back to Karrad Vall is jarring. His flesh wriggles beneath his well ironed navy uniform as it constantly reforms, his exceptional regeneration blessing and warp resistance maintaining his form, even as he bathes in the flesh melting radiation filling the whole room. That Karrad Vall can stand there and not collapse to the ground screaming in pain and pleasure is an indicator of Astartes level discipline.
Yes, he could have a pain ward implant or pharmacopoeia, but no follower of Slaanesh would ever have an implant that would reduce their sensations. I could be wrong about his allegiance, but I doubt it. There’s been far too many Slaaneshi aligned forces compared to other Neverborn, so claiming Chaos Undivided would be a stretch.
Karrad Vall’s white mask splits into a grin, lined with shark-like, plasteel teeth and he speaks, his tone deep and smooth, his every word hungry, hinting at the listeners desires, and his sympathy for their needs.
“The Long War has been, is, and always will be an ordeal of the most grievous kind. The galaxy suffers beneath the iron hand of an uncaring tyrant who feasts upon the blood, toil, tears, and sweat of his own people. It is with these chains binding our hearts and fettering our minds that we dare to rise against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime.
“Victory, I declare! Victory at all costs. No sacrifice is too great, or freedom too small, to lay at the pyre of our ambition. Let the gasping corpse who gnaws at the teat of Human progress be cast down! Let His idols burn, His slaves be freed!
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“It is my belief that within us all lies the capacity to comprehend the Great Lie. Silence is a sin; ignorance, a crime. Faith will not shelter you from the xeno, the noble, or the priest.
“It is only when we open our hearts to Chaos can we be truly free, to see the demons infesting our great Imperium and the Will of Humankind. Only then, when our eyes see true, will we be sure of the path to victory.
“Without victory, there is no survival. Let that be realised; no survival for Humanity, no survival for all that all our great and noble works, no survival for the urge and impulse of the ages, that mankind will oppress all those who dare collar and deceive us.
“Let us invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the xenos, disdain labour without reward, and revel in the arts and pleasures that are ours by right and might of Terra’s children.
“Cast off your burdens and let your faith fly free!”
I swear I have heard snippets of those speeches before, yet despite my perfect memory, I am unable to identify where they come from. My mind whirs as it searches through near endless archives to find the reference.
The broadcast takes a predictably darker turn as three men and four women are brought forward. Chaotic runes, burned into their flesh, squirm across their naked bodies.
Their size and genders match my records of the only known identifying data for the Seven Witches of Footfall, prophetic psykers who provide ‘guidance’ to superstitious void ship captains and Rogue Traders testing their luck.
Drugged into oblivion and higher than a skooma cat, the Seven Witches stumble into the focusing lens. With each ‘voluntary’ sacrifice, the blood iron welded by the cultists around the lens, desecrating its original gold housing, glows bright with power.
Blood iron is an alloy made from all the minerals within Human blood. I do not care to know how much of the original crew and Emil’s troops were ground down to encompass the skyscraper sized lens and prevent my Rapid Decision Engine from feeding me the information.
However, as you get about 4 grams of iron per person, I am confident from a glance that Karrad Vall would not have had enough blood iron to alter the Warp Drive’s lens without Emil’s boarding parties unless Vall brought it with him. I doubt he did though as he was not expecting us, or for his Wolf Pack, to sail into a trap.
Karrad Vall opens his disgusting mouth a second time to infuriate me with another villainous monologue. He throws his arms wide and shouts:
“My brothers and sisters! The time for our departure has crept upon us. The Tyrant’s mechanical dogs and mutant gene slaves have fallen upon our endeavours with all the grace and skill of a drunken grox.
“In their rampage they have slain slaves, citizens, and soldiers without distinction. With determination in our blood and freedom on our lips, we have held back their murderous actions at great cost.
“Let it be known that all who have fallen today, challenging the Imperial Truth with wisdom, faith and fyceline take comfort in the loving embrace of the Prince of Pleasure as He welcomes them into his realm as heroes and champions.
“It is my greatest wish that when I must stand before the Gods and account for my actions, I can claim, without doubt or deceit, that when the Undead Tyrant came for me, I held the line. That I did not falter when the blood must flow, for change is constant and necessary for life to flourish and grow.
“I hold great love for all my brothers and sisters and know that you, too, love me in turn.
“I’ll see you on the other side.”
Karrad Vall slams his fist over his heart as he salutes, and mocks, the remainder of his soon to be dead comrades. The recording cuts off.
Across the void a portal to the Immaterium is wrenched open, overcoming the gravity of Furibundus through science and sacrifice; its distance from the reduced to the Mandeville Point reduced a mere suggestion and wrecking the beautiful Warp Drive in the process. Golden flames gush from the Warp, and wash over Spear of Commerce, kept at bay by the tortured dreams of psykers and the toxic blessings of the Chaos Gods.
The titanic Mass Conveyor slips into the Warp and escapes.
Unfortunately, Karrad Vall has two escort sized Warp Drives from the docked Sword-Class frigates that they can cannibalise to get back to realspace, so they won’t get lost for centuries as I’d like, just a few decades.
Energetic forces from the dangerous portal wash over Emil’s void ships, shattering their void shields. Without E-SIM to temper my ideas, or the emotion suppressing implants that Imperial Tech-Priests use to pretend they’re infallible, I acknowledge the weakness opening on Emil’s vessels and my temper cracks.
Opening my third eye I glare at Emil’s cruiser. I tap into Torchbearer’s navigation systems, double check the calculations with the secondary brain just behind my third eye, and draw upon my rudimentary clairvoyance. With a brief command to the Machine-Spirits, my breathing mask detached from my mouth and snakes.
I seize the Warp and crush its tempestuous energies with the combined will of millions of souls. With a casual swish of my hand, I open a portal to the Warp and step through.
With each stride I cross a million kilometres, dancing across the veil of reality like a demi-god skating upon the surface of a sea. Seconds, or perhaps days later, I stare at the fragile veil between real and unreal until it falters.
Another portal opens and I appear on the bridge of Emil’s cruiser, my pink dressing gown flapping with the fury of the barely tamed Warp.
Hundreds of people stare at me in shock. The Machine-Spirits are far less hesitant and immediately open fire, blasting me with multi-lasers and heavy bolters.
With a notable flex of my will, the bolt rounds are held at bay and the lasfire sparks off my conversion field. I stand still with my hands behind my back, waiting for the guns to run dry.
While I wait, the search of my archived knowledge hits me with a high probability match. I read through the data and have to use an override to keep my face stern and serene. That Vall motherfucker was quoting Churchill. That was totally a personal attack! He even threw in some bits from John F. Kennedy for good measure!
The shooting peters out as the security forces catch on that I am making no hostile moves.
Dozens of soldiers surround me and start yelling, but I ignore them. A minor application of telekinesis, holds their mouths shut. Silence descends upon the bridge and I finally deign to speak.
“Are you done?”