Getting Warhammered [WH 40k Fanfic]

The Vallian Protectorate and the Dominion of the Stars — or the Astral Dominion — ended up being the two names we’d agreed on for the two states. Other Protectorates would be formed in time, but for now, they were just lesser colonies with no real rights or representation. One would be the name of the political entity stretching across the Vallia System, while the other would be the overarching state tying together the rest of my holdings all across the Jericho Reach. 

Understandably, the latter was in a much earlier state of development, being little more than a name and a dream at this point. Sure, I technically owned a whole bunch of systems and the people within, but what was a state without a government? There was no bureaucracy, no combined economy, no communication, just a bunch of disparate planets and systems floating in the void. 

Also, while the Vallians had accepted my rule pretty easily, with only a handful of troublemakers trying to cause problems ever since I’d first made those arcologies, the ex-Imperial worlds would be another thing entirely. They would rebel, resist, cause trouble, obstruct my work and be an overall pain in the ass. The number of people living on those planets combined also eclipsed Vallia’s total population by several orders of magnitude. So I couldn’t exactly reuse the same government structure, since it wouldn’t be feasible, even if I applied the same fundamental principles. 

I would be an absolute monarch with unquestioned authority, and the sole absolute authority when it came to matters of military and foreign policy. Slavery in all its forms, including servitorisation and indentured servants, would be outlawed. The aristocracy would be abolished, and I would enforce at least some form of social equity sooner or later, once I figured out how to do it without having the entire mess of a society the Imperium left behind collapse around me. 

Servitors disgusted me on a fundamental level; slavery was both repulsive and idiotic for a society advanced enough to develop spaceflight, and don’t even get me started on the aristocracy. Fucking nobles in a sci-fi setting, they were just oligarchy but even worse. Oligarchy just games the system to enjoy benefits no poor person could, but even still, they were technically still just citizens with the same rights as normal people. The Imperium’s aristocracy was so rich and powerful they’d long done away with the charade and just granted themselves extra rights to differentiate themselves from the common rabble they exploited. 

But if I killed every noble or abolished the system by force right now, then what little society and structure remained on those planets would surely collapse. After all, learning was a privilege, and higher education was granted only to those with noble blood or to the rare few admitted to a Schola Progenium, which was usually reserved for the fanatically loyal. Of course, the higher nobility and the elite Imperial officials trained in a Schola were the first ones to flee the Reach or die in a foolish ambush against my forces. All that remained were the scraps, the ones who failed to gain admittance to the ships fleeing the sector or martyr themselves. 

But the aristocracy were far from the only pillar of society that’d left. The Mechanicus left, taking with them nearly the entirety of the technological know-how of the sector. Then there were the Astra Militarum, Navis Imperialis and Adeptus Astartes, three different layers of defences for both outside and internal foes that I would have to fill in for until I could come up with something to replace them. Alas, the most troublesome to replace would likely be the sudden lack of the Inquisition taking care of the most dire threats in the shadows. I still had Amberley on hand, but the things her Ordo usually dealt with were the ones I’d need the least help with. 

What I was concerned about were the things the Ordo Malleus would have had to deal with, and the Ordo Hereticus to a lesser extent. Daemons, cultists, rogue psykers. 

“Should I automate everything?” I mused, thinking aloud as I lay on the sofa, my head resting on Selene’s glorious, pillowy thighs while she caressed my hair. I think she was trying to make a simple braid, even? Cute. “I mean, that approach begets mistakes; no automated system can judge every problem and correctly identify the source of it with 100% accuracy. Neither can humans, or even my gene-engineered daughters … but then the blame wouldn’t be on me if they mess up.”

I didn’t like the idea of giving what was essentially an organic dumb AI the power to raze planets to the ground. I could make it a predictive algorithm, an emotionless, uber-rational AI, or basically a designer human. But that last one would come with free will, emotions, its own wants and dreams, and I was already feeling bad for having my daughters work to shore up the shortcomings of Vallian society. They were used to plug holes in their society, to fulfil tasks and jobs their people didn’t know how to do or couldn’t be trusted to do. 

They knew they could ask to be let go at any time; I’ve made sure of that … but none of them asked. Maybe it was because they were free to choose what task they wanted to fulfil from a list of things that needed doing, but maybe it was also because I made them fulfil those tasks. Do they have free will? True free will, I mean? They were all made for a purpose, and none of them sought to do anything else. They have hobbies and stuff, but none of them sought a purpose beyond helping me in some way, shape or form.

If I had a proper FTL communication network that could transmit data instantly across the stars, then it would be simple. I could handle everything myself, but alas, that was but a distant dream for now. I needed someone to make decisions in every system, or, if not that, then I needed roaming agents of my own, like the Imperium’s Inquisitors. 

“Hmmmm,” I hummed, my eyelids fluttering slightly as Selene did that delicious thing where her nails scratched my scalp, sending pleasant tingles cascading all over my brain and racing down my spine. “Agents. Do I want custom-made agents made out of my children or trained human ones? It wouldn’t be hard to personally ensure all of them were both fit and loyal, but training them would take so long … and power corrupts. I can’t give them the same unlimited authority the Inquisition enjoys; that’d just be stupid … or I could, but then they’d have to debrief me personally every now and then so I could make sure they weren’t getting drunk on power. If any do, it wouldn’t take too many public executions before the rest of them learned to behave … but the damage a single rogue agent could do if I gave access to my stuff … hmmm. This is hard! Why won’t the stupid daemons just leave me alone!?”

“Because the Archenemy hates you,” Selene murmured happily, continuing her pleasant caresses. I grew a pair of cat ears covered in silky white fur to give her another place to scratch and almost moaned when her fingers moved to scratch behind my new ears. “You stole from one of their gods and have been an overall menace to the rest. I’m no Inquisitor, but I know that if your enemies hate you then you’re doing a good job.”

I might have been happier about that — and don’t get me wrong, I was all for that sort of petty glee usually — had another notification not arrived at that exact moment. With a long-suffering groan, I glanced inside the data packet and absorbed the information.

“Another Slaanesh cult popped up,” I said, my voice drier than the sand dunes of Arrakis. “Castobel this time. A gang of short-time sadomasochistic druggies again, though by the time I get there I bet their numbers will be in the thousands considering it’s a Hive World we’re talking about. Fucking hell.”

The data packet had been delivered by one of my new courier ships, which got it from that new surveillance network I’d set up not so long ago. I’d made it so even the slightest hint of daemonic fuckery was treated as a maximum priority message deserving of an instant courier dispatch.

I felt like I was playing galactic Swat the Mole, just with Daemons instead of moles and with the entirety of my nascent Dominion as the game board. Fucking daemons thought they could just cause trouble with impunity now that the Imperials were gone … or they were just trying to keep me too busy and distracted to do something big again. I almost yoinked every Eldar soul I could get my hands on into my Realm out of sheer spite but held myself back, and that stupid momentary urge passed.

“You don’t have to do everything all by yourself, you know,” Selene murmured somewhat chidingly, twirling a lock of my hair around her index finger. I peered up at her thoughtfully, my eyes searching her face and finding an expression written in weariness. “You didn’t take in that Eldar’s soul just to keep it as a trinket, did you? I know you don’t want to let me handle it for you, and I understand it, but that Kaylith and the other Eldar that Valenith has been beating into shape are supposed to be your enforcers. Use them.”

Of course I wouldn’t let her out of my sight; the daemons knew she was important to me and as powerful as she was, she wouldn’t be able to hold her own if more than a single Greater Daemon ambushed her. Hell, a single powerful Khornite Bloodthirster might do her in with its immunity to sorcery, or a single Lord of Change if it manages to lure her into a trap. 

“I would trust them to handle a problem if there weren’t millions of my human citizens around to become collateral damage,” I said, breathing a frustrated sigh. She was right, but again, it all came down to trust. I kinda trusted Valenith not to be a supremely racist and callous asshat with my human citizens, but not the other Eldar. “They would probably just orbitally bombard the entire Hive City until all that was left of it was a smouldering crater edged in cooling magma.”

“Then just tell them not to.” She rolled her eyes at me, flicking my nose playfully, for which I aimed a mock-glare followed by my best whiny pout at her. “Or send one of your daughters with them to act as their moral compass. Besides, you did remove their inherent disdain of ‘lesser creatures’, right?”

“Just because I dampened the biological source of their xenophobia, they won’t be paragons of equality anytime soon,” I said with a roll of my eyes. Sure, I dampened the disdain — not removed, since I was afraid removing a core part of their being would destabilise them; the body and the soul had to be mirror images of each other to remain in balance — but it’s long become a mental reflex by this point, and I had done nothing to alter their minds manually. “They are still raging assholes of the highest order when it comes to regular humans.”

It wasn’t like I didn’t get it by the way. Regular humans were pathetically weak things, fragile both in body and spirit. A common cold could end thousands, and they could barely comprehend existing without their asinine religion. Oh, how I loathed both the Imperial Cult and the Cult Mechanicus for how low they’d brought humanity. They clung to their uncaring, non-existent gods as if faith could replace understanding, as if it could fill in for their crippling lack of knowledge. 

How could I not be utterly disgusted by them when even so much as speaking the word ‘science’ was enough for tech priests to act like a bunch of super-religious grandmothers who heard a child invoke the name of Satan? 

But they were humans. The only familiar species in this wretched galaxy. The sole remnants of the world I grew up in. Besides, they were mine now, whether they liked it or not, and so they would not be allowed to be slaughtered like chaff and be dubbed mere collateral. I would show them that life could be better; I would drag them into a better future, kicking and screaming if I had to. If there was not a single civilisation I could stomach being a part of in this horrid galaxy, I had to make one myself. 

I couldn’t do that if my own would-be enforcers slaughtered my citizens like the Imperium’s own bloody butchers would. I needed to be better, and I needed those serving me to be better as well. Sure, the moment they rebelled or acted against me they were no longer my citizens, no longer protected, but until then? Until then, they would not be slaughtered by the thousands just because they had the misfortune to be within a few kilometres of a cultist.

But Selene was right. The more this new Protectorate grew, the less I could allow myself to cling to micromanaging everything. I couldn’t be everywhere, not yet, and not for centuries more. I couldn’t keep rushing around my domain like a headless chicken trying to stem leaks on a sinking ship. 

I needed to trust- … No, not trust. What I needed to do first was to test Kaylith to see whether she was worthy of my trust. Her, I could watch even from afar since her soul resided in my Realm. She wouldn’t know, but I would be watching as she went about fixing this latest problem of mine. 

Then, maybe, if she acted within reason and did well, I could allow her a modicum of trust. After that, she would train others to take up the slack, others whom I couldn’t watch myself but only judge when they stood before me to give their reports. Kaylith would learn what I wanted my enforcers to be; she would learn how I wanted them to go about their work, and then she would teach it. 

“Figured out something?” Selene hummed, her voice light and conversational. 

“Yep, I think I did,” I replied with a thoughtful smile. “I suppose we’ll see how it goes. “

The risks were minimal. I could watch Kaylith, and with her soul residing in my Realm, there was a link I could follow if she was ever in dire need of reinforcements or rescue. Besides, I had no strong attachment to the Eldar Pathfinder, so I wouldn’t be too crushed if she somehow ended up dying somewhere along the way.