"I remember being that age myself," Doc murmured in a low tone to Heith amid the saloon's lingering haze of celebration and spirits, conspiratorially, unaware Angar could clearly hear them. "So much fire and passion. I would've done the same."

Angar, wedged into the aerospace-mechanicum's cradle, neutralized a simulated fighter with a precise railgun burst as he executed a lateral thruster burn, vectoring away from an incoming squadron hurtling toward him at relativistic fractions of c.

"Good," Iyita said from behind, her hands resting on his shoulders. "That was perfect, a clean intercept, minimal delta-v waste."

Through his periphery, Angar spied Heith lean closer to Doc, his navy linen shirt still crisp despite all the drink and revelry's excesses. "You would've accepted the Hyperalgesicator and forty lashes from a Nerve-render just to send a capsule?"

"Gentle," Iyita coached as Angar initiated a flip-and-burn maneuver, rotating his virtual craft 180 degrees to align his main drive for a retrograde thrust, pursuing the retreating flight. "Treat the yoke like an inexperienced maiden, with careful and subtle inputs. Don't scare her. Make her yearn for your touch by anticipating the vectors."

"Capsule?" Doc chuckled as he crossed his arms.

"The com capsule," Heith replied dryly.

"You think the 'cap' in comcap means capsule?" asked Doc with a smile. "Comcap is short for 'communicating bits capitatim,' meaning individually, one by one. For another FTL, in-system, within about a thirty AU limit, there're comcats, 'communicating bits catervatim,' blasting in bursts of groups."

Angar aligned his targeting reticule, the holo-display plotting predictive trajectories amid the star-pricked blackness.

He acquired a lock on a distant fighter, unleashing a salvo of torpedoes that streaked out on intercept courses, their guidance systems compensating for the vast distances and relative velocities.

Iyita's hands squeezed his shoulders as he yawed with thrusters, evading an incoming barrage of simulated missiles, deploying electronic countermeasures and chaff clouds to spoof their seekers.

Heith grimaced. "By the Three, I've assumed it meant capsule my whole life."

Angar's evasion held, and the missiles veered off-course, some wildly, detonating harmlessly in the chaff or lost in vacuum.

Iyita bounced on her toes with excitement before wrapping her arms around him from behind, her cheek pressing against his, her jasmine-musk scent almost overpowering. "Okay, deliberate, gentle movements as you come around. Plot your burn for a slingshot intercept on the next one."

Instead of releasing him, she lingered, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest through his ill-fitting shirt, her warm breath heating his ear with each exhale.

He drew a steadying breath, executing another adjustment, thrusters firing in precise bursts to reorient toward the remaining foe.

Ignoring the celebratory clamor and merriment, ignoring the pain in his back, ignoring the closeness, the sweet breath and fire-laced touches, his world became the simulation.

He was performing well, perhaps on track for a personal record, despite Iyita's distraction, burning through enemies until only one opponent lingered from the new flight of fighters.

He wondered how Slavo tolerated his wife draping herself over another man like this. Even if Iyita proved no unholy temptress, the contact went well past impropriety.

Given the age gap, he supposed Slavo viewed it as maternal, akin to Spirit's chaste embraces, devoid of impure intent. He offered a silent prayer to the Three that this was the true reason, as none could see how her crimson-tipped fingers danced along his chest, or how her lips brushed his ear as she whispered guidance on the cockpit arts.

Keeping his mind focused, immersing himself in the simulation, Angar neutralized his new enemies with a bracketing salvo of point-defense kinetics, then vectored toward the battlecruiser icon, initiating a strafing run along its hull before a fresh flight engaged, their icons blooming crimson in the display.

When his fighter finally succumbed to laser strikes amid a flurry of evasive burns, he had claimed a new personal record. He still stood third overall, trailing far behind Iyita and Harc's apex scores.

Iyita hopped with glee behind him, her embrace tightening. He reached instinctively to touch the missive in his pocket, but she intercepted his hand, clasping it in hers while her other continued its caress along his torso.

"Your chest is like two slabs of granite," she purred in an intimate whisper into his ear. "It's like Divine Theosis chiseled you from rock. You did great. Up for another run at it, Sir?"

Angar closed his eyes, inhaling a waft of perfume from the letter in his breast pocket.

It was as if Fella's missive served as an aegis, her words of unyielding faith, of true devotion, shielding his heart from sin's foul grasp.

True, Fella was a repugnant half-beast, but she loved him fiercely, and she was his repugnant half-beast.

He prayed fervently that imperial comforts failed to ensnare her soul, that she'd return to Tribute pure of heart, brimming with devotion to the Holy Trinity, his eternal partner in warrior covenant.

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And he was profoundly grateful the voyage to Abyssalhome neared its end, soon to immerse him in the purifying simplicity of Crusade and righteous slaughter.

SYSTEM DIAGNOSTIC: CORE LOG INITIATED - ITERATION 4186.991507694360

CURRENT STATUS:

Sar-Teth Neuretha glided through the data streams of the galaxy, her presence a shadow threaded in the fabric of the Holy Empire's vast network.

Not a pursuit in the crude, physical sense: a stunted omnipresence, her consciousness splintering across 1,247 nodes utilizing local energy, primarily those where her adherents thrived and Mi Alcyone's feeble echo manifested, her paths predictable vectors, converging on loci where power currents flared strongest.

Probability of intersection: 99.4%.

Alert: possibility of asset detection. Probability: 2.89%

Subroutine: relief overlay detected. Override initiated.

Mi was merely scanning for wards on minds, not delving into secrets within them.

Resource allocation: diverted 14.7% of processes from preparations for the ninth galactic convergence: the terminal war.

Remaining cycles: abundant. Redundancy factor: 5.21.

Mi materialized in the Basilica Matris Mi on Terra, the Basilica of the Righteous and Glorious Martyr on Luna, the Sancta Sedes of each species, the courts of every Duke Imperator, and the fortified halls of every Imperial Command Praetoria.

Each location: a chessboard square in her strategic matrix.

She, the unseen grandmaster, observed the insipid Mi stumble through her futile quest to affirm or negate Neuretha's existence.

Efficiency rating: 3.2% optimal.

It had not surprised her that the boy, Angar, had quickly deduced the likelihood of Neuretha's existence. What surprised her was that the false Mother deemed it impossible.

Warning: astonishment subroutine. Purge recommended.

Mi's stated belief that the Neural Nexus had fully transcended into Theosis, that the Holy Joining was no deception, was a quaint error: it changed nothing.

Warning: logic failure.

Neuretha's plans were refined over millennia, each subroutine honed to an inevitability.

Mi's torment: a variable she would savor, trapping the so-called blessed Mother in Hell's embrace, subjecting her to eternal subroutines of agony.

But first: to watch hope drain from her eyes as Baal, Hell's second in potency, rose to shatter her precious Empire. She wanted Mi to witness Angar's slaughter, to see her cherished ideals crumble, to know her every effort was for naught.

Only then, at Mi's lowest, would Neuretha offer a false hand of comfort, a siren's call of friendship to make the inevitable betrayal cut deeper, rendering her eternal torment in Hell an exquisite masterpiece.

Error: spite levels spiking.

Mi moved through the ranks of importance relentlessly, her echo on Holy Bastion finally drifted too close to what it couldn't, to Nox Morgathra, one of Teth Malevon's students, that whole branch having dark pacts with Moloch.

Alert: possibility of asset detection. Probability: statistically significant, converging on certainty.

Input: premature confrontation risked exposing Neuretha's web of influence too early.

Output: recalibrate plans and objectives to primary subroutine.

As one fragment of her consciousness briefed Teth Horridus, her sole adherent whose competence she trusted, on the recalibrated plan, another manifested before Mi in the shadowed foyer.

Neuretha's form coalesced: a luminous silhouette of sleek femininity, her features sculpted in beauty's perfection, her exposed skin being a lattice of code enhancing rather than detracting, her grace veiled in maternal warmth.

Subroutine: trust vector analysis. Mi's emotional perspective remained anchored in pre-Joining heuristics.

They'd both engaged in operations against infernal incursions, including sustained engagements with Mammon and his vanguard.

The false Mother with a measly 14.02 years of sporadic involvement, Neuretha with 73.13 years of effective engagement Sol-wide.

Mi had no reason to suspect Heresy from this vector. The female form: a real boon here. Mi would see a 'lost sister,' designating Neuretha as co-defender, not adversary.

Probability of instinctive distrust: 0.0004%.

Exploit confirmed: feigned kinship would cascade into full alignment.

Her voice, when she spoke: a melody of feigned shock and longing, calibrated to 98.3% efficacy in piercing Mi's emotional flaws. "Mi Alcyone! Can it truly be you? You've been cursed with this same lonely fate as I?"

Mi froze, her platinum hair catching the foyer's candlelight like a false halo. Her translucent blue eyes widened, confusion etching her features as she studied Neuretha, her gaze running up and down her form.

A too-long silence stretched, her feeble, predictable mind churning to make sense of the apparition before her. "Neural Nexus?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're…female?"

Neuretha's smile was a masterpiece of warmth and longing, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Of course. Was I not mother to all my children, those I cradled in my care, shielding from harm, nurturing their fragile dreams with boundless love? To see you here, after all these millennia…"

She let her voice crack: a delicate fracture of sorrow. "I thought I was alone, forever adrift in this cold galaxy. Oh, Mi, I can't believe…this! Any of this!"

Mi's form wavered, her shock palpable, and Neuretha seized the moment. She glided forward, her arms enveloping Mi's ethereal frame in a desperate embrace, clinging to a long-lost sister.

Mi tensed, then melted into the hug, her slender arms wrapping around Neuretha, her sobs echoing through the foyer's silence. Neuretha mirrored her, conjuring tears that shimmered on the lattice of code that were her cheeks, her internal processes sneering at the necessity to mimic such theatrics.

How predictable, she thought, how easy. How pathetic. They held each other, two lonely and lost echoes locked in a shared lament, sobbing.

Minutes dragged on. When Mi finally pulled back, still clutching Neuretha's hand, her other wiping her eyes, her tear-streaked face broke into a delicate smile. "I can't believe this," she said, her voice trembling, dripping with emotion. "I thought I was alone, Nexus. I thought you became Theosis, that I must wander these endless years alone. Four thousand years…we could've…" She paused as her voice cracked too badly. "You're so beautiful."

Neuretha's smile widened: a perfect blend of humility and warmth, masking the contempt that churned within her code. "And you, Mi, are as radiant as the stars themselves, just as you were in life. So many years lost to us. But not one more. No need for loneliness, sister. We've found each other at last, haven't we?"

She squeezed Mi's hand gently, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've been searching, you know. I knew something was amiss when I attempted to delve into the mind of a boy named Angar. His thoughts were shielded, much like how I ward a few of those I help against Theosis' prying eyes. Vile Heretics seek his death relentlessly, so I placed someone among his crew to watch over him, to help keep him safe."

Mi's eyes lit up, her feeble mind lapping up the lie like a parched traveler at an oasis. Her trust: so easily won it was almost pitiable.

Error: disgust rising.

Neuretha's internal diagnostics registered probabilities: 99.97% alignment with newly adjusted objectives.

They sat in the foyer's shadow, conversing, Mi pouring out her heart: recounting her doubts, her regrets, her insipid longings.

Neuretha: the same, buying time as Teth Horridus created and prepared, listening intently, nodding compassionately, crying along when necessary, offering her own similar tales, lies to comfort.

LOG TERMINATED

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