Editing Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Two (section)

==A Safe Landing==

===Nocturne===


The ship shook a bit as it exited the stratosphere.  “Princess, we will arrive at Hesiod in twenty minutes,” the pilot announced.

Venus nodded to herself, thinking over their schedule.  “Okay…we’ll land at the Castle of the Tribal Kings…we’ll be quartered there.  We unpack, then I have to go to the Square and give my speech…then I come back and we go be tourists for a while.  I’ll have to wear something that conceals my eyes if we don’t want to get mobbed, but there’s plenty of dark-skinned people on Nocturne.  Anyone would be if they grew up exposed to THAT much radiation,” she said drily.  “But you guys will be fine if we don’t spend a few years here.  Hmmm.”

“Venus, why do people on Terra call you Lady, people on the ship call you Lady Primarch, and people here call you Princess?” Jake asked.

“Oh.  Well, I don’t hold the same rank everywhere,” she explained.  “On Terra, I’m the Emperor’s granddaughter, but I haven’t been assigned to leadership over a specific region of space, so I’m a title-less noble.  A Lady.  In the military, I’m the heiress of an Astartes Legion, so I rank just below a normal Primarch.  A Lady Primarch.  And here, I’m the daughter of the man who rules the entire system as its King, Dad.  So Princess.”

“Oh wow.  I hadn’t even thought of that,” Jake said.

“It’s not that big a deal.  Technically I’ll answer to all three in any place.  But nobody likes protocols more than nobles, soldiers, and bureaucrats,” Venus said drily.

The ship suddenly jolted as it passed through the lowest levels of the clouds above Hesiod.  The hull sizzled faintly.

“Oh damn it all, it’s pouring rain outside!” Freya groaned loudly.  Venus looked over at her in alarm.

“Really?  Shit!  Rain on Nocturne is super acidic.  We’re going to have to get you guys indoors as fast as we can,” she said worriedly.

“Why is it a problem?  Rain on Terra can be acidic if the weather machines fritz out,” Alex pointed out, unplugging his headphones.

“When I say acid, I mean ‘Oh holy fuck my skin is melting,’” Venus said.  “Even Furia couldn’t survive these rains.  We’ll have to arrange a car,” she added under her breath.

The PA crackled again.  “Princess, we are five minutes to skids down.  The weather is acidfall fifty klicks lateral.  I recommend that you and your guests land at the castle landing bays,” the pilot advised.

Venus tapped the call button.  “Good idea, Pilot, consider it authorized,” she said.  The ship tilted a bit as the pilot moved to the new heading.  “Problem solved,” Venus said in relief.  “Heh.  Welcome to Nocturne.  Don’t drink the water.”

“Sounds like sage advice,” Remilia said, turning her slate off and cinching her restraints.  “So who do you think will greet us?”

“Oh, a few Salamander honor guards at the most, especially since the original landing was scrubbed,” Venus said casually, as if dismissing an Inferno Guard was par for the course.  “Maybe a few really brave reporters.”

“Works for me!” Remilia said.

The ship shook again as it left the driving wind, and bucked as it sat down on the pad.  After a few seconds of near-silence, the whole ship rang with the sound of the hull being hosed down with water, scouring the acids away.  Nearly a full minute of nervous waiting later, the ramp suddenly lowered, admitting the ozone stink of the hangar.

A Salamander in full Fire Drake Assault Terminator armor stood alone at the base of the ramp.  As the party descended, the colossal warrior held both hands over his hearts and bowed low, as Terminator armor doesn’t permit kneeling.  “Princess Venus…welcome home.”

“Brother Lieutenant.  It is good to be home,” Venus replied in Old Nocturnean.  The Drake looked up, apparently surprised she could speak it.  “My friends and I are weary from our travels, but eager to see my world.  Can you show us the way?” she asked.

“It would be my honor, Princess Venus.  Shall we employ Gothic or Nocturnean?  It pleases me greatly that you have learned it, but I do not wish to exclude your friends,” he said, gesturing to the other four teens.

“Nocturnean.  I need the practice,” Venus said.  “And we will discuss nothing sensitive,” Venus said, in an air of undeniable command that somehow sounded like she was discussing nothing at all.

“Of course, Princess.  Please follow me,” the warrior said, gesturing to his side.

The bay was absolutely packed.  The entire chamber was full of air and space craft, and ground vehicles that had driven into the castle to escape the weather.  The Fire Drake parted the crowds of people around the vehicles like an armored prow.  At first, he drew all the attention, as the massive Space Marine was of far greater initial interest to the crowds of serfs and civilians than the quintet of somewhat tousled-looking teenagers in his wake.  Soon, however…

“Princess Venus!  An honor!” someone said excitedly as she passed.  And the gates were open.  In moments, the group was surrounded by excited well-wishers, whom Venus bypassed with remarkable poise.

“Please, folks, I’m glad to be home, but I’m exhausted.  I’ll be happy to address you all as soon as I can, but I have unpacking to do,” she said, slipping gracefully between clouds of reporters.  Her companions hovered nearby, unsure of what to do.

The Drake turned and slid his armored hand behind her, guiding her through the throng.  “Give Her Highness some room,” he ordered, his voice far from the respectful request it had been moments before.  The crowd evaporated.

Finally, the group reached the exit, and the Drake lead them away from the Nocturneans who had gathered for a glimpse of their Princess.  “Well, that was exciting,” Venus said.

“My apologies, Princess.  Normally we would never have allowed civilians into the bay, but with acid rain that strong…we could not let them die outside.  You understand,” the Drake said in Old Nocturnean.

“I do.  You made the correct decision,” Venus said.  “Now…to our rooms, I think.  Are our personal belongings already distributed?”

“They are.”  The Drake stopped as the group arrived at a lift.  “However…there may have been some confusion.”

“Oh?” Venus asked.

“You shall see.  For now, please, rest.”  The lift opened, allowing all five to enter the structure.  “Farewell, Princess.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Brother-Lieutenant,” Venus said, as the lift doors closed.

Alex blew out a sigh.  “Wow.”

“Yeah.  Sorry if the crowd got to you guys,” Venus said apologetically.

“It’s to be expected,” Freya said.  “Where do you practice Old Nocturnean?  I didn’t understand a damn word you said back there,” she pointed out.

“Sorry.  We speak it around the house sometimes, but I wanted to be sure I remembered how.  I’ll use Gothic now,” Venus said.  “While we’re here, you guys want lessons?”

“Nah, I’d never get good in a month, thanks,” Jake said.

The lift opened, and a pair of Salamander serfs in full combat gear stepped back, clearly having summoned the lift for themselves.  “Princess Venus, welcome home,” one said respectfully as the group passed.

“Thanks, soldier,” she said.  “Which way are the suites we’ve been given?”

“Uh…I do not know, Princess, but I have to imagine it’s the VIP suites,” the serf said awkwardly.  “End of the hall.”

“Thanks,” she said, and led the group past the serfs, looking for their rooms.

Sure enough, there were a few maintenance serfs bustling about the rooms at the end of the small hall.  One spotted the group and walked up.  “Princess Venus, welcome to Hesiod Castle,” he said, taking a reverent knee.  “I hope you will find all the suites to your liking!”

“Thank you, serf, I hope so as well,” Venus replied in Gothic.  “Which rooms are whose?”

“Your room is the one at the end of the hall here,” the serf said, rising and gesturing behind him, at the room out of which several more serfs were emerging with cleaning implements and EMP sweepers.  “The two rooms on either side of the hall before it are also available to you.”

Venus tilted her head in confusion.  “Four rooms?”

“Is that not enough, Princess?” the serf asked worriedly.

“It’s too many, Sieur,” Venus said.  “We will only need three rooms including mine.”

“Oh!”  The serf’s eyes flickered from side to side, clearly doing math.  “I see.  My sincerest congratulations, Princess.  I did not realize that you and your cousin Princess Russ had wed.”  Jake choked on his tongue.

Venus glanced back at him and Freya and winked.  She turned back to the serf.  “We haven’t.  But thanks.  Are the rooms ready?”

“They are, Princess.  Please, enjoy your stay,” the serf said, and bowed out.

The group dispersed amongst their rooms and found their possessions piled in each.  Apparently, the serfs had already selected which rooms would be which.  Alex and Freya consolidated their cargo in the room on the left of the hall, while Remilia just stayed in the room to Venus’ right.

Jake sank down on the bed.  It was gigantic, nearly as big as the one in Venus’ room back home.  He kicked off his shoes with a sigh, spreading out on the mattress.  “Mmm…nice.  Just soft enough.”  He glanced over at his girlfriend, who was busily spreading their clothes through the cabinets and drawers.  “You and Freya, huh?”

“Har har har, wiseass,” Venus said.  “And she meant me and you, and Alex and Freya.”

“Really?  Pretty presumptuous of him,” Jake said.

“Not really, Nocturne matrimonial law and Terran matrimonial law are very different.  I’ll explain it later.  I gotta change,” she said, grabbing several odd-looking pieces of leather and metal out of boxes in the corner.  “Awesome, it’s here.  Be right back, baby,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.

Freya tossed her bag in the corner of the room, and it landed on the small mountain of cargo containers and suitcases that she and Alex had brought.  Remilia wandered into the room behind her, and sank into a leather chair by the door.  “Well, we’re here,” she announced.

“I know.  I am so stoked,” Freya said, tugging her extreme weather gear out of her bag.  She examined the thermoreflective plastic weave of the shirt and grimaced.  “I really hope I don’t need this.”

“Freya, if we’re not in the Pyre Desert, why would we?” Remilia asked drily. She brushed her blond hair out of her eyes and stretched, sinking into her seat.  “Is anyone else feeling short of breath?”

“I think Nocturne has Terra-plus gravity, or atmo, or both,” Freya said.  “We won’t notice it for long, the discrepancy’s tiny.”

Alex stripped his outer shirt off and threw it into the hamper in the corner, waving a hand over his face.  “Would it be appropriate to wear shorts here?  Because DAMN, it’s hot.”

“Indoors, maybe, I dunno.  We’ll ask Venus,” Freya said.  “Is there a map in here?”

Alex looked around the room for one, but neither of them could find it.  “Uh…nope.  Fuck.”  Freya tapped her finger on her chin.  “Well…Venus won’t know either, she’s never been here.  We can ask where stuff is.”

===New Kicks===


Venus opened the door to the main room, nerves catching her breath.  Jake was just lifting the remote for the holo, and hadn’t seen her yet.  She felt weirdly self-conscious in her formal uniform.  Why, she wasn’t sure.  He had seen the duty version already, of course.

Whatever.  It was just clothes.  She cleared her throat and stepped into the room.  “What do you think?” she asked.

Jake was just picking up the remote to turn on the holo in the corner when he heard her question.  He turned to look at her-

He dropped the remote.

She was clad from neck to bootsole in dark grey leather that shone to brilliance.  Her pants were covered in front with what looked like a fully centimeter-thick layer of drakeskin scale over leather pads, and they wrapped nearly halfway around her legs.  The boots she was wearing were drake leather too, and had an incredibly intricate red flame pattern etched into the surface that wrapped around her calves.  They were tucked under her pant legs at an inch or two above the ankle, and the pants had the same pattern on them, though he couldn’t see all of it since the scale didn’t carry the pattern.  On her hips and the front of her upper legs, the scales slowly turned from the dark grey they had been to a reddish grey instead, and a Power Rapier and Conflagration Pistol that looked both ceremonial and fully usable were strapped to her hips.

The armor plates on her hips were a deep red scale over tiny ceramite links over adamantium plates, as thin as a hair, over the leather that constituted the entire outfit.  The thick belt over her waist was also drake leather from the look of it, but the entire surface was completely covered in flat, wrought-adamantium chain links, the size of pinheads, that had been linked together and hammered flat.

By contrast to her leg armor, her torso armor was somewhat more utilitarian.  Her stomach was completely covered in thin, interlocking pieces of adamantium plate, though in deference to the outfit’s intended appearance, a few bright red drake scale links had been arranged in a V-pattern.  It started right under the plate over her breasts and ended at her belt buckle; which was, now that he saw it, a wrought silver coil, with a tiny flame pattern etched onto the metal, and a single ruby set on the middle.  The plates of armor over her upper chest were visibly thicker, but more ornate; with embossed and raised patterns in a language he couldn’t read rimming the rib and breastplates.  The plates on her upper chest continued the same pattern.  The words were polished brilliantly, and the metal beneath less so.

The plates themselves were lined with almost invisible rivets holding the adamantium plates to the leather beneath.  The segmented metal was arranged with such artifice that it didn’t make a sound as it slid over the other pieces.  Between the leather being nearly the same color as her skin and the brilliant silver of the metal, the effect was such that Jake’s eyes were naturally drawn to the red scales that covered her flanks, and the ones down her stomach.

Her arms were thickly padded with drake leather, but here the scales were a dusky orange, almost brown, and the adamantium plates on her shoulders and upper arms were painted the same color.  The forearm plates were not, and were left a dull grey.  Into the metal, more words were etched, and the raised words were shined to brilliant silver.  They, like the words on her chest, were inscrutable.  Her gloves were a brighter grey, and tiny circles of adamantium decorated the back of each finger, leaving room for the joints.

Jake stared.  He traced his eyes over the uniform, taking in every detail.

Venus tilted her head a little.  “So…what do you think?” she asked.  She crossed her arms over her armored chest and leaned to the side a bit.  “Well?  Nocturne to Jake?”

“…Wow.”  Jake slowly sat up, still staring.  “You look…wow.  It’s beautiful.”

Venus smiled, somewhat relieved.  “Thanks.”

“What does the back look like?”

She obligingly turned, revealing a few small, black leather pouches on the belt.  Probably for ammunition for the weapons.  The outfit had deep pockets, he saw, running invisibly under the armor on her hips, which was apparently not as thick as it looked.  The backs of her legs were covered in the wafer-thin flame patterns up to her knees, where they tapered away into blank leather.  Her back was armored too, but with more drakescale, not metal plating.

“It’s amazing.  You look gorgeous,” Jake said.  “I’ve never seen you wear THAT at state dinners back home,” he said.

“It’s not for Terrans.  I told you, I’m just a noble there.  Here, the mantle of leadership means I have to look the role.”  She walked back into the bathroom, and some rattling noises started.  “Hang on; let me show you the accessories.”

“The weapons aren’t accessories?” Jake asked.

“Nope, they’re for idiots who think Vulkan Forgefather has stupid children.  Hang on…okay,” she said.  She emerged with a few little boxes in her hands.  “Here…we go,” she said distractedly.  She pulled some small metal bits out of one box and set the others down.  “I made these myself, when I was ten.  I promised Dad that I wouldn’t wear them until I came here,” she said.  Jake stood and walked over.  She extended one leather-clad hand to reveal a pair of tiny platinum earrings, each of which had been set with a little yellow corundum.

“Pretty.  You made those when you were TEN?” Jake asked.

“Yep.  Solid platinum.  Which means nothing since they’re just engine parts Dad was about to throw out.  I melted them down and made these instead.”  She smiled as she inserted them.  “I like my use more.”

“Me too.”  Jake glanced into the boxes and saw more shiny metal.  “What’s that?”

“The rest.”  She reached into the boxes and extracted a thin necklace, with a familiar pendant on it.

“Hey, I remember you,” Jake said, running his finger over the little drake’s head icon.  The tiny rubies glittered under the light from her eyes as he held it up.  “You sure you want to wear this around?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Well, I’d be scared of losing it,” Jake said.

“Well…I’m not, but it does contrast with the uniform,” she said, sliding it back into the box.  “Okay…two last things.  I think you’ll like this part.”  She grabbed a bundle of cloth from the next box, and unfurled it into a flowing, blood red ankle-length cape, with the Nocturnean hammer icon set into the middle in yellow.  She slung it on over her shoulders, and fluttered it to rest.  “Huh?  Huh?”

Jake took a step back and looked her over appraisingly.  “You pull it off, Venus.”

“Thanks.”  The last item was one of the reasons for her shyness, but she also could never justify not wearing it, and she had to admit that it was beautiful on its own.

She reached down into the last, larger box, and extracted a sparkling crown.  A band of solid gold encircled her entire head.  No mere tiara this, it extended to cover her head almost entirely.  A square slot at the back allowed her hair to flow out.  The front of the crown was decorated in an Imperial Aquila, whose wings were spread back over her temples.  The forehead stretched down to halfway down the bridge of her nose like a battlehelm.  The brim flowed out of the nose above her eyes, back down in front of her ears.  A row of truly massive rubies decorated the band.  The top was a gold dome, but it was low, almost resting on top of her head.

In the very center, above the Aquila on her forehead, a ridge extended back over the dome, and a few small diamonds were set on either side of it, in a symmetrical pattern.

Venus slid the crown on and stood back.  “Well…there’s the complete picture.  How do I look?”

Jake looked up and down.  The effect was magnificent.  The martial appearance of the chest armor and the elegant artistry of the crown blended perfectly.  The brilliant red glow from under the crown was frightening and enticing.  “You look like a queen,” he said.  He felt dumb, trying to encapsulate the way she looked in words.  “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

She smiled under the crown, and somehow it didn’t diminish the effect at all.  “Thank you, Jake.”  She moved her head from side to side, testing the crown’s balance.  “Hmm.  Bit topheavy, but it doesn’t move…good.”

“Uh, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t there serfs for this sort of thing?” Jake asked.  “Helping you dress and such?”

“Eh.  Maybe if I was in the Residence, up on Prometheus, but the Regent lives in it and I wasn’t about to throw him out for one night.”  Venus cricked her neck, trying to get used to the weight on her head.  “Besides, why would I want some serf to help me when it gives me a chance to play dress-up with you?” she playfully inquired, running her gloves over each other.

Jake coughed.  “Such lack of decorum, Princess.”

She nodded, all business again.  “Now…do you think I should show the others, or just head out now and surprise them?”

“Why go anywhere?  The rain will kill you,” Jake pointed out.

“All the major cities have some sort of underground tunnels between major civic buildings, but I don’t know if the Castle in on the network,” Venus said, tapping one gauntleted finger against her chin.  “It’s earthquake insurance.  Hmm…I can ask.”

“And I think you should show the others,” Jake said.  “Blow their minds.”

“You think I should, huh,” she said, biting her lip.  “All right…I want to save this, though,” she said.  She pulled the crown off and set it into its box, closing it up and sealing it with a thumbprint.  The tiny electronic lock clicked.

“Okay…let’s show them.”  Venus peeked out the door, verifying that the hall was clear, and listened for voices.  Sure enough, she could hear the others talking in Freya’s room.  She and Jake walked up to the entrance and knocked.

“Come,” Freya called.  Venus pushed the door open and struck a gallant pose on the threshold.

“Well?” she asked pointedly.

Jake peered over his shorter girlfriend’s shoulder. Freya was sprawled out on a couch, paging through a dataslate.  Her jaw dropped when she saw her cousin.  “Venus, you look awesome!  Where did you get the hardware?”

“It came with the outfit,” Venus laughed, walking in.

Alex wandered out of the bedroom and froze in his tracks.  “Oh wow…Venus, what’s that?”  Remilia sat up in the corner, staring.

“My formal outfit.  What can I say, we like leather on Nocturne,” Venus said with a happy little shrug.  “What do you think?  I’ve never actually worn this before.”

“I think it’s awesome,” Alex said.  He walked up to her with marked hesitation, and gently rubbed his thumb over the drakeskin on her shoulders.  “Is this all real drakeskin?”

“Yep.  And that’s real scale,” she said, tapping a scale on her hip.

“That outfit and the weapons cost more than a system patrol boat,” Freya said, flabbergasted.

“Not at all.  That drake probably just wandered in front of a Salamander mining crew and got toasted for its incaution,” Venus said.  “It’s all from the same animal.”

“Is that a Conflagration gun?” Remilia asked from the corner.

Venus hefted the weapon, balancing it on its trigger guard.  “I think so.  It was in the kit.  It’s not even loaded,” she said.  She slid the power pack out.  “Yeah, this is a placeholder.  Plastic.”

“You’re not going to be incinerating any paparazzi with that,” Remilia scoffed.

“True.”  She slid the plastic pack back in and checked the pack on the Rapier’s hilt.  “Also plastic.  Well, who stores weapons loaded?” she asked rhetorically.

“Yeah…don’t load those here, huh?” Jake asked, coming up behind her.

“Don’t worry,” she said, reaching behind her and pulling the contents of the little leather pouches free.  “All plastic.”

“Good.”  Jake looked at the golden hammer on her back ripple with the slight movements of her cape in the draft from the hall.  He had seen her martial side before, of course.  On the ship, when dealing with Custodes and Treasury back home, the incident with the Palace PDF…but this was new.  She wasn’t just being military, she was being a leader.

He had thought that this inevitable day would be overwhelming to him.  Strangely, though, he felt excited instead.  This side of her was interesting.  He was actually looking forward to seeing how she acted.  She turned around and hugged him quickly.  “Gotta go.  It’ll be on every news channel,” she said over her shoulder as she went.

The door closed behind her.  All four other teens stared at each other.  “That was unique,” Jake said.

“I know.  I’ve never seen that before.  Makes my formal outfit look tawdry,” Freya grumbled.

“What’s yours?” Alex asked.

Freya waved her hand overhead, trying to visualize it.  “You’ll see.  Furs and tribal markings.  Fenris is still a Feral World.  I guess a world that’s actually a part of the greater Imperium gets to be fancier.”

“You’re not jealous,” Alex said.

“No, I’m just thinking aloud.  Hey, let’s get the news on,” she said, grabbing the remote.


===A Relaxing Day at the Range===


Outside, Venus checked to make sure she had the right box, then hurried down the corridor to the lifts.  A pair of serfs waiting outside the doors fell to their knees as she approached.

“Rise, gentlemen, I’m going to need help here.  Has the rain stopped?” she asked, tucking the crown case under one arm.

“It has, Princess,” one serf said, climbing to his feet.  He stared at her in open awe.  “The scourers should have the Square ready for you in an hour if you wish to make an address.”

“I do.  How do I get there fastest without walking?” she asked, stepping into the lift.

The serfs walked in after her.  “By an aircar or the tram, but I’d suggest an aircar, your Highness,” the serf continued.  The other one piped up.

“I’m sure Regent No’dan will arrange something, your Highness.”

“Sure.”  Venus descended in silence, rehearsing her speech in her head.  She glanced down as the rapier’s scabbard bounced off her leg.  “Oh.  Actually, which way is the armory?” she asked.

“Er…two floors below the hangar, your Highness,” one serf said carefully.

“Okay, I’ll stop there first,” she said to herself, and tapped a different button on the controls.

The armory guard was leaning on the security counter outside when a blob of red caught his eye.  He glanced up from his holomag and lurched to stiff attention as Venus came to halt before him, her cape billowing in her wake.  “Sergeant.  Might I pop in for a moment?” she asked quickly.

“Of course, your Highness, what can I get for you?” he asked.

“Seven standard power packs, Sergeant, for a Conflagrator and a Power Rapier,” she said, gesturing to her weapons.

“Of course, your Highness.  Seven standard MPC40s, coming up,” he said, scurrying over to the armory and tapping the call button.

“Make that eight, actually,” she called after him.

“Yes, your Highness,” he said back.

Someone answered the call button on his PA panel.  “Yeah?”

“Eight MPC40s, pronto,” the Sergeant called.

“Eight?  You starting a war out there?”

“I’m starting a discharge form with your name on it if you get between Princess Venus and her ceremonial weapons’ ammunition,” the Sergeant said under his breath.

The PA went silent.  Moments later, a turnstile in the wall next to him spat out eight little black boxes.  The Sergeant scooped them up and bolted back to the desk, where Venus was waiting, fists on her hips.  “Your ammunition, Princess,” he said, depositing the packs.

“Good.”  She hefted one and ejected the placeholder from her Rapier’s pommel, sliding the pack into place.  The tiny red light on the pommel blinked twice to acknowledge the charge and went dark.

“Do you need a place to test them?” the Sergeant asked.

Venus thought.  “I suppose I have time.  Where do I sign?” she asked, looking over the assorted slates and papers on his desk.

“I can do the paperwork for you if you’re in a hurry, your Highness,” the Sergeant said.

“No, that’s fine, I should do this…myself…” she said, her voice trailing off as she caught sight of the holomag he had been reading.  She slowly tilted her head, trying to get a better angle on its content.

The Sergeant hastily turned the mag off.  Venus looked up at him and raised one eyebrow.

“Nothing worth mentioning, your Highness,” the Sergeant managed.  “Er.  The sheet.  Yes.  Here you are,” he said, pushing the range sheet and armory sign-in at her.  She nodded and signed both.  “The range is that way, just please let us know if you need more ammunition or something.  Your Highness.”

Venus nodded.  “Thanks, Sergeant.”  She glanced down at the blank holomag and back up, a smile quirking her lips.  “As you were.”

She ignored his panicked salute and strode quickly down the hallway to her side, ammo boxes balanced on top of the other box.  Idly, she wondered why the Royal Outfitters had chosen such a non-descript way to ship the crown, then decided it wasn’t worth asking.

She blew into the range, finding it nearly deserted.  A serf at the counter stood, having clearly heard her approach over the PA.  “Princess Venus, welcome.  A little Q before the speech, your Highness?” he asked.

“Nope, testing something.  Thanks.  Set me up for a CQC stationary and mid-range thermo, please,” she said, wiping down some earmuffs and taking her place at the nearest lane.

“Yes, your Highness,” the serf said, keying it in.  With a whining of pneumatics, a meter-thick block of metal with a human outline rose from her lane, about fifteen meters away.  Venus set her box and ammo down, popping the placeholder cell from her Conflagration gun, and settled the new pack into place with a *click*.  “Clear,” he called.

The green light over the lane flicked on, and Venus depressed the trigger once.  With almost no recoil, the muzzle of the gun pulsed orange light.  The metal block half-melted in an instant.  Venus blinked, staring at the gun in shock.  “…Oops.”

The serf gaped.  “Uh…cease fire,” he said, and tapped the button again.  The light over the range turned red again, and the hydraulics pulled the metal block back down.

Venus set the gun back in its holster and stepped out of her lane.  “My sincere apologies, Rangemaster, I had no idea this thing had that kind of punch.”

“I…yes.  Well.  It’s a Conflagration gun, your Highness, they…all do that,” the serf said.  “Well.  Nothing a little time in the shop can’t fix.  The CQC one?”

“This won’t demolish it, will it?” she asked, tapping the Rapier.

“Not unless it’s ultracharged.  Is it?”

Venus checked the tiny letters around the pommel.  “No.”

“Then you’ll be fine,” the serf said.  “Er…whenever you’re ready,” he said, gesturing her to the melee-weapon chamber.

She walked over and opened the door, wrinkling her nose at the stink of promethium.  A metal and plastic model of a human with a plastic lasgun in its hands rose from the floor.  The speaker overhead blared once, and Venus lunged at the model, skewering it.  She withdrew it and looked closely.  “Perfect.  No melt,” she said.  She tapped the door and the speaker blared again as the model sunk into the floor.

She stepped out into the range, picking up her things.  “Thanks, Rangemaster, it works fine.  Sorry again about the thermo,” she said.  “I should have specified.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem, we replace them every week anyway,” the man said.  The casual tone of his voice spoke volumes about his station.  On an Astartes range, the Rangemaster could talk down a Terminator.  “Thanks for dropping by, your Highness.”

“Thanks for having me,” she said, scooping up spare ammo and dropping it into the pouches on her belt.  She said her goodbyes and hefted her box, walking back to the lifts.  As she arrived, she found her nerves returning.  She was looking forward to speaking before her people, of course.  She was apprehensive about the way she would be perceived.  She hadn’t been home in a long time, and her first act was to take a vacation.  How would that go over?

She stepped into the lift, tapping the button for the hangar floor.  As the lift rose, she breathed deeply, trying to banish her ill feelings.  Whatever happened, happened.  Nothing to do but go on as well as she could.

In the hangar, she paused, noting the streams of air and ground cars leaving the building.  The sky outside was a bruised purple, as the reddish light from the sun poured through the acid blue clouds.  A Salamander noticed her standing at the door and immediately marched up.  “Princess Venus.  Are you ready to depart?”

“I am, inasmuch as I can be,” she replied.  “Do I have a ride?”

“Of course, your Highness, an aircar has been called.  Will your companions be joining you?” the warrior asked, glancing around.

“They will not.”  Venus watched as an aircar pulled up across the back of the room.  “Good.  We’re a little early.”

“Then let us depart, and avoid crowds that may pose a security concern,” the Salamander said.  “Of course we suspect no risk to your Highness here, or the speech would not occur…but as recent events have shown…”

“Of course,” Venus said.  She really didn’t need to be reminded of poor Morticia at that juncture.  The Power Armored warrior opened the door for her and she climbed in.  The car lifted immediately, and soared off to the City Square.

===Public Speaking===


She craned her head, staring out the tinted windows.  The view was amazing.  The buildings were all acid-swept stone and metal – not a piece of wood in sight.  Statues of the Salamanders, meticulously protected from acid, decorated the corners.  The acid clouds were boiling away under the desert sun.  The star burned a bright, painfully intense red…not unlike her eyes.

She looked below.  The streets below were soaking from scrubbers, spraying the acid rain away, but already there were people below, hawking wares, fixing buildings, and going about their business.  Signs of new construction were abundant, too, but no building rose above the spires of Hesiod Castle, which was really nothing more or less than a Governor’s Palace with an in-built Salamander shrine.

Venus fingered the box with her crown, and she lifted it out, staring at it.  She had inherited her father’s disdain for exercising authority in front of blood relations.  But her father had also never felt more comfortable than he did leading his brothers into war, and had loved the responsibilities of leadership.  Had she inherited those too?

She didn’t know.  Certainly, her cousins and friends were confident in her.

She put the crown back in its box, sealing it again.  It clinked against the little pendant as she did.

The car settled on the scoured roof of a building adjacent to the square.  Ranks of Salamander serf snipers and what looked an awful lot like an artillery spotter were assembled nearby, camouflaged with varying levels of obtrusiveness.  The square, to her astonishment, was nearly vacant.  But then, the skies had been bleeding acid minutes before.

Venus stepped out of the car, one arm wrapped around the box, the other resting on the sword scabbarded at her left hip.  One good thing about rapiers, she reflected, was that it didn’t matter which way you drew them.

A row of Salamander Serfs and Hesiod PDF knelt as she emerged and shook her hair loose.  “Hail, Her Royal Highness, Princess Venus,” the Sergeant at the end of the rank said reverently.

Venus bowed slightly and lifted her hand, palm up.  “Please rise, soldier.  I’m about to address my people for the first time since I learned to speak.  Get on your feet.”

“Yes, your Highness,” he said, scrambling up and gesturing the others to do the same.  “No security threats have been reported.  Even the Underground is quiet.”

“Underground?” Venus asked.

“A small smuggling organization that gets around the customs offices in the Sanctuaries by utilizing mining tunnels, your Highness, hence the name,” the PDF Sergeant reported.

“A smuggling organization on a Space Marine homeworld,” Venus said.

“To our endless shame, your Highness,” the Sergeant admitted.  “But we can’t collapse the tunnels without risking active mine shafts, so…”

Venus nodded.  “A matter for another time.  From where shall I give the speech?”

“Right here, your Highness,” the Sergeant said.  “Should the swell return we need to be able to get you out of here quickly.  And you can address the Square directly from the balcony one floor down.”

“Lead the way,” she said.  The Sergeant saluted and gestured to his men, and they fell in rank beside her as she walked to the access stairs.  Fortunately, it seemed the building saw use as a landing pad with some frequency, and the stairs were wide enough to admit them all.  The group escorted Venus to a small room at the back of the building, where they left her to prepare.

Venus set the box down on a table and opened it.  She removed the crown, setting it down on the table, and sat backwards in a chair, facing it.  She crossed her arms over the top of the chair and stared at the Aquila on its face, measuring her thoughts.  “So how are we gonna play this, Dad?” she asked quietly.  She reached out and gently rubbed a thumbprint from the gold face of the crown with her leather-clad finger.

“I guess we see how it goes…and we’ll see how badly I want to stay after school,” she whispered.  “What will Mom think?  What will Grandpa think?”  She set her head down on her crossed arms.  “What will Jake and Uncle Ir’Sem and Farah think?”

The crown didn’t answer.  She gripped it and set it on, feeling its weight on her head.  As she did, she moved to close the box, when the little pendant caught her eye.  She stared at it, wondering.  Finally, she lifted it out and put it on, carefully disentangling it from her hair and the crown.  “Can’t hurt,” she said.

The crowd outside had swollen considerably when she finally stepped out to the balcony.  The privacy screen was still in place, so they couldn’t see her yet, but she could see them, and she swept the crowd with her eyes.  The balcony was only two stories above the square, and the techpriests were busy setting up a microphone.  A few serfs swept the place, searching for snipers or lesser troublemakers.  A trio of local law enforcement were station every ten feet along the sides of the square, which was really only a large, flat piece of exposed bedrock near the physical center of the city.
Venus cleared her throat, pushing away last-minute nerves.  She was ready.  She had to be ready.

“Your Highness, we are prepared,” a techpriest by the microphones said.

“Thank you,” she said, stilling the nerves in her hands.  She flexed her fingers irritably.  “Lower the privacy shield.”

The techpriest did so, and the shimmering light around the balcony disappeared.

The crowd below caught sight of their Princess and erupted in cheers.  Venus walked up to the edge of the balcony, beside the microphone but not behind them, and waved.  Several servo-skulls floated by, recording the whole affair.  A perfectly timed breeze blew past her, rustling her hair and snapping her cape.

After acknowledging their applause for several seconds, Venus stepped up behind the microphone, inaudibly clearing her throat.

“My friends…it is good to be home,” she began.


Jake sat back in his seat, watching the news.  As soon as Venus walked out in front of the microphones, he beckoned the others over.  “Hey, hey, she’s starting!”

Alex, Freya, and Remilia found seats around the holo and sat.  “Wow.  She didn’t show off that headgear before,” Remilia said.

On-screen, Venus was looking out over the crowd.  “I’ve been gone a long time.  I lived on another world entirely.  And I’ve wanted to come back for a long time, too.”

She tilted her head back, staring out at the facades of the buildings across the square.  “No excuses.  School, life…they kept us apart, Nocturne.  But now…I’ve returned.”  She looked back down at the crowd, and smiled.  “Inclement weather notwithstanding, I feel welcomed.  I thank you for that.”  The crowd dutifully chuckled.

She gestured at the moon, massive in the sky.  “When I arrived, I was glad to see that the stories I’ve been told about how things work here were correct: the Salamanders and their kin are close.  Family.  That pleases me to no end.  Terran or Nocturnean, all Salamanders and Nocturneans are bonded by history and blood.  I am truly honored to be a bridge between them.”  She paused to let a ripple of applause cross the square.

“I wonder how much she rehearsed that,” Alex said.

“I didn’t hear her rehearse once,” Jake said.

Venus slowly ran her leather-clad fingers over the railing of the balcony.  “I may not have returned to take up the reins…yet.  But know that one day I will, and when I do, I will be infinitely proud to shoulder the responsibility of leadership.”

She held up one hand, gestured to the sky above them.  “Terran skies are blue, for those who can afford to see them.  Our red sun scorches our world, and illuminates the trials that lurk within it.  But Nocturne has supported ten thousand years of human life, despite monsters and the best efforts of the environment itself.  Few people possess Nocturnean strength, resilience…and those few who do rarely possess the unity and selfless dedication of the Nocturneans.  Even now, your friends and family lend that strength, that unity, to the purging of the Imperium of the aliens that come to threaten our shipping.  Your thoughts and pride support and uplift them.”  Venus lowered her hand and closed her eyes for a moment, showing her respect for the warriors of the Salamanders and their auxiliaries.  The crowd went quiet as some shared in her respects.

She raised her head and smiled, fingers splayed on either side of the microphone.  “I will visit all the Sanctuaries in my time here.  Here I shall begin, and Themis next…The Jewel, The Dragonspine, The Beacon, The Fire Spike, The Merchant Sprawl.  Though, again, I do not turn to leadership in my time here, I will also visit those who live beyond even those scant protections of walls and shields, and see the lifestyles of ALL my people.”

Remilia nodded slowly.  “She’s not doing a speech.  She’s improvising.”

“How can you tell?” Jake asked.

“Her voice.  She’s not pausing between sentences as long as she would be if she had rehearsed,” Freya said.

Venus turned to the side slightly, glancing over the rows of serfs and PDF on the rooftops.  “I know that my arrival was…somewhat disruptive to the city.  In that spirit, I will keep my remaining comments short.”

She gripped the railing on either side of the microphone and leaned forward slightly.  The wind rose again, sending her hair and cape flying.  She spoke over the noise.  “My friends, I can not overstate the depth to which I felt alive and comforted as I arrived.  Nocturne is more than just the place I was born and the place where my father built a Legion.  It is home, on a level as satisfying and certain as anything I can imagine.  I may leave once more, to complete my schooling, but I will not stay gone.  My future is here, as a Princess or a General, and I can and will not forget it.”  She inclined her head, hand over her heart.  “I will carry the memories I build here with me always…and I will carry your aspirations, your own desires and futures with me, as I do.”

She leaned forward again, her endless red eyes staring over the crowd, meeting several people’s gazes, an easy and confident smile on her lips.  “Thank you all for your kind welcome, and for having me here.  Farewell,” she said.  She turned off the microphone and bowed as low as she dared without letting the crown fall off.

The crowd erupted in cheers once more, and she bowed again, slowly stepping back.  Once she was out of sight of the crowd, she walked briskly back into the building, bulling the heavy gold crown off as soon as she was out of view of the servo skulls.

She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, sighing in relief.  “Whoo…that was rough.”

“That was inspired,” a voice said behind her.  She glanced over her shoulder.  A serf stood there, his hand locked in salute.  “You did wonderfully, Princess Venus.”

“Thank you, serf,” she said, placing the crown in the box and sealing it.  She cricked her neck and groaned.  “I was sweating bullets.  I hate public speaking.”

“You didn’t show it,” the serf said.

Venus nodded.  “Well…time to head out.”  She hefted the box and walked back to where her escort was patiently waiting.  “Gentlemen.”

“Well said, your Highness.  Are you ready to return to the castle?” the Sergeant asked.

“I am.”  Venus followed the escort back up to the roof, and crisply returned the salute of the Sergeant leading the group.  “Thank you, Sergeant.  Back to the Castle, please, and let’s move immediately before we get caught in traffic from people leaving the square,” she added for the driver’s benefit.
She climbed in and they took off, heading back to the massive metal structure.  Venus settled back in the seat, trying to relax, and wondered what her friends would say.