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[TAS] Volume 2 - Interlude: A Proprietor’s Lot
🕑 Added 2025-11-21 20:00:12 +0000 UTC---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!
Volume 2 - Chapter 54 - Becoming has just released on RR with no changes.
For the Wolf Lords, this chapter is unchanged.
And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.
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HIGHLY EXPERIMENTAL CHAPTER!
Tried a bit of a different approach to interludes in this one.
Focusing on a single PoV that is mostly about things outside the main POV's sight and current concerns, while also weaving in part of the main character's storyline towards the end to still move the story forward, if slowly.
Let me know how it feels!
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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/
I hope you will enjoy it!
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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here is the link to the chapter:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1F8jHkokAxlA9CT7qxEB72yhQB4lQ_Kj2VMupgLKb-Pc/edit?usp=sharing
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Volume 2 - Interlude: A Proprietor’s Lot
“The O-13 governs the United Human Federation.
“But anyone who has served long enough in the Corps knows that the UHF Marine Corps operates under an entirely different sort of governance: The Marines govern themselves.
“When you build an army out of people who can level city blocks before breakfast, personal politics stops being a side problem and starts being the very water you have to swim in.
“The Allbright System, in its infinite cruelty, doesn't care for unity, politics, or chain of command. It cares only for advancement.
“For the pursuit of perfection through conflict in its search for the Ultimate Warrior.
“And so, the Corps breeds monsters: Deliberately, with no remorse and no end in sight for how far they will go to create the most monstrous person they can.
“Generally, they are beautiful, loyal and efficient, those monsters of ours. Monsters who bend entire campaigns through the sheer weight of their personal strength. And while the Council loves their victories, it has to fear the independence that this very power brings.
“See… when one sufficiently high-Tier Marine can level a city by themselves, and another twenty can bend the laws of physics at their whim, you stop commanding an army and start managing egos, first and foremost.
“The Allbright System rewards selfishness disguised as ambition—because ambition, to the System, is progress towards its prime directive.
“This has always been the UHF’s greatest curse, but also its greatest victory.
“The Council cannot stifle the System’s hunger without starving its own armies from the very powers they need to contend in the Galactic War. To deny the Allbright System’s directive would be to cut the very muscle that keeps the Republic and Dominion to our sides trembling at our borders.
“And so, the Corps plays its own game beneath the Galactic War—one of politics, influence, and personal supremacy. To temper this chaos, the Council created the Proprietor system.
“Each Proprietor is the highest agent of the Council inside the Corps in all but name—a sovereign ruler of their assigned Star Sectors, chosen for loyalty to the cause, temperament and wisdom, as much as personal strength.
“To punch above their weight-class is all but a single requirement for a Proprietor, and one that they do not even sweat about. Aces among Battlefield Aces, were they ever needed to be deployed—the ultimate surgical weapons of the Council.
“Their very word is law within their domain, superseded only by the Council itself; nullifying the Corps own ranking structure and chain of command, when necessary.
“They mediate the conflicts that the Allbright System inevitably breeds inside the Corps, pulling their lesser peers back from the brink of mutiny and madness, back into the fold of the unity that is required for our Faction to exist.
“Some call them kings and queens, but I call them a necessary evil.
“Without them, the Corps would eat itself alive—its brightest stars burning each other out in a desperate bid to consume the rest, long before any enemy could.
“They aren’t chosen because they’re incorruptible—none of us are—but because their corruption is predictable, manageable, and, most importantly, aligned with the Council’s will.
“They are our guardrails, our arbitrators, our leash on the monsters of war we’ve built with our own hands.
“But make no mistake: The Proprietors are, by and large, the greatest monsters of them all.
“For ask yourself this—what kind of being does it take to not just leash, but command, the most dangerous monsters the Corps has managed to deliberately breed in seven centuries?
“What kind of being is required to make those who can level cities with a thought tremble at the sound of their name? To make the monsters yelp and lower their heads in shame, when their voices are raised?
“No—the true monsters aren’t the Ace Marines the propaganda reels glorify.
“They’re the very Daemons holding their leashes tight; the ones who make even demi-gods-in-the-making remember what it means to fear.”
—
[Excerpt from “The UHF Marine Corps’ Greatest Problem: The Monsters Of Our Own Making,” by Professor Emeritus Halden Virex – Former Advisor to the O-13 Council – PFC911]
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PoV: Major Zephyr Quinn
“How many of these damned reports are left…?” Zephyr groaned, stretching and arching her back over the chair she sat on.
“There are seventy-three reports remaining, Major,” the Sovereign’s calm, ever-unhelpful voice replied, as if she had actually wanted an answer.
Zephyr shot a glare at the ceiling—there wasn’t really anywhere else to direct it to—thinking darkly, ‘I swear that damn AI is doing this on purpose just to piss me off.’
It had been a brutally long day of paperwork.
A dozen datapads sat scattered across the wide, solid-wooden table in front of her, each loaded with a different list of reports to help “keep things organized,” though the current state of the desk suggested otherwise.
Two of them had even fallen to the floor when she’d tossed one down out of sheer frustration, sending a small pile tumbling over with it. She hadn’t bothered to pick them up.
‘I could just ask the Sovereign to put them back,’ she mused, ‘but I’d rather not rely on that thing more than I already have to.’
She’d never been fond of the UHF’s obsession with the shipboard AIs.
The Sovereign, especially, had always rubbed her the wrong way.
Likely because of its closeness to Horatio, somebody Zephyr herself considered a close friend—almost like a father-figure of sorts. While she trusted him, she definitely did not trust the damn AI further than she could throw it—which wasn’t particularly far, as she couldn’t even get to it.
The mere thought of the Sanctums buried deep within the cores of the UHF fleet’s ships—a place no one but the Captain could access—made her skin crawl.
‘An entire part of the ship off-limits to everyone else…? I trust the Council knows what they’re doing,’ she thought, ‘but without knowing what’s inside that Sanctum—or how these things truly function—I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable around them. Just hope Terra never ends up feeling threatened by it all...’
There was, of course, one way for her to find out exactly how it all worked—if she truly cared enough to.
She was, after all, a Proprietor by order of the O-13 Council.
If she truly wanted to, she could simply override every restriction and classification in place to dig into what made the Sovereign tick. But that, in essence, was the whole point of being trusted with such power—to not use it for something as petty as idle curiosity.
Her eyes drifted back down to the datapad in her hands, to the report she’d been staring at before her thoughts had wandered.
It was one she’d been brooding over for days now, and she still didn’t know what to make of it.
‘Concerning, obviously… but what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?’
It was the first comprehensive report from the investigation into the disappearance of the Monarch—one of the Sovereign’s sister-ships, lost during the first quarterly Assessment of the newest Recruitment Drive.
The report had been… beyond unsettling.
Not only because of what it said, but especially because of everything it didn’t.
For one, the Monarch had been found—or what was left of it.
A wreck, torn apart into several large chunks that had been found drifting in real-space.
But the implications buried in that report were the kind no high-ranking UHF officer ever wanted to read.
No chain of catastrophic system failures. No signs of enemy fleet attacks. If anything, the ship’s hull had been downright pristine—except where the ship had simply been torn apart.
That much the investigation team had confirmed early on.
‘No survivors. Complete loss of personnel, including the Captain and the AI. The Sanctum was breached, and whatever was inside it is missing entirely,’ Zephyr recalled from the informal section of the report.
All of it led to the chilling conclusion now glowing on her datapad—the one visibly marked “for Kuigon Proprietor Eyes Only”.
It was one of those rare moments when her clearance as a Proprietor had naturally come into play, surpassing even that of the ship’s own Captain.
Normally, she had far less authority and clearance than someone like Horatio. But this time around, her title had placed her first in line to know about the initial results, despite only officially holding the rank of Major.
She held the datapad in front of her face, too weary to sit up straight, her head leaning back against the top of the chair as she read the final lines of the report for the hundredth time.
“Damage patterns, incident speed, and aftermath point towards high likelihood of a Major Void Incursion. No distress beacons located—missing entirely from the ship and surrounding area—indicating intelligent enemy action in suppressing information.
“Initial investigation concludes with the following warning:
“High likelihood of Titanicus-level Void Entity present within the Voidzone of the following Sectors: Virellian, Driftspire, Halcyon, Threnic Spiral, Krynnal, Pidine, Kuigon.
“Potential presence of Primordial-level Void Entity within the Voidzone of the following Sectors: Virellian, Driftspire, Halcyon, Threnic Spiral, Krynnal, Pidine, Kuigon.”
The words Titanicus and Primordial had been echoing in her head ever since the report first landed on her desk.
They were the kind of words no one ever wanted to see in a report about their own Star Sector—especially not when they were currently sailing straight through the very Voidzones mentioned.
‘We’re about a week out from Kovalsk Station,’ she thought grimly. ‘Once there, we’ll link up with the ships Horatio requested as escorts back when we first learned about the Harbinger’s connection to that Recruit… Maybe he was onto something back then. If we’d waited until now to call for them, they’d still be a month out… and if we ran into the Titanicus before then—’
She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t need to.
A Recruitment Ship wasn’t built to fight Void Entities—not on that scale.
Zephyr shook her head, a dry laugh escaping her lips.
After hearing the legends of the Harbinger’s uncanny talent for attracting trouble for decades, she had thought Horatio overly paranoid for ordering permanent escorts just because of Thea McKay’s presence aboard the Sovereign.
The girl’s connection to the retired General had seemed like flimsy reasoning at the time.
Now, though, she found herself quietly thankful for this “foresight.”
‘And having Anrake on the ship will help until then… If push comes to shove, I trust he’ll at least get us out of trouble, if nothing else.’
“Major Quinn,” the Sovereign’s voice cut cleanly through her thoughts, smooth and polite as ever. “Recruits Thea McKay and Karania Faulkner have requested your location. As per your standing orders, I have granted the request immediately and informed Recruit McKay of your position. They are currently en route to your office.”
Zephyr’s eye twitched.
She tilted her head back and glared at the ceiling again, her lips pressing into a thin line.
‘Of course it would say that now,’ she thought bitterly. ‘Can’t just let me have five minutes of thinking through stuff before dropping something like that on me again. I swear, this AI gets its kicks from watching me suffer.’
She had no proof, of course. Just a very strong suspicion.
Letting out a long, resigned sigh, Zephyr pushed herself up from her chair and began cleaning the disaster that was her desk. She stacked the datapads into somewhat neat piles, retrieved the two that had fallen to the floor earlier, and gave the surface a quick once-over.
Once satisfied, she caught her reflection in one of the datapad screens, straightened her uniform jacket, and brushed a few stubborn strands of hair back into place.
Her face looked tired—but at least it looked composed.
She couldn’t afford to appear anything less.
She was the Major Quinn, after all, and appearances mattered—especially when dealing with someone like the Harbinger’s daughter.
It was, frankly, ridiculous just how much trouble that girl truly was.
In all her years as a Proprietor, or even just as an officer in the UHF Marine Corps, Zephyr had never seen a single Recruit stir up so many emergency meetings, complications, and full-blown headaches—not to mention the mountain of paperwork that seemed to follow in her every step.
But, then again…
‘It’s not really her fault, is it? None of this mess is something she had any real say in. It’s not her fault she’s… well, whatever she is—whatever the System sees in her. It’s on us to figure out how to make the best use of the opportunity she’s offering the UHF, not her. So it’s only natural we have to carry the weight of all the fallout that comes with all of it.’
That was why Zephyr had given the Sovereign standing orders to always allow the Recruit to find or reach her, no matter what.
She’d rather walk through a fortified trench full of Freaks alone than risk another disaster like the one that had unfolded after the Assessment.
If all it cost her was a little extra stress and a stack of endless reports, then so be it.
Better that than losing what little trust the girl still had in the UHF—because that was something they simply could not afford to have happen.
“Sovereign,” Zephyr said, glancing up as she started sorting through the clutter of datapads on her desk. “Anything I should know ahead of time about this visit from the Recruits?”
“There should be nothing unexpected, Major,” the ship’s voice replied promptly. “Both Recruits appear to be on course to request Skill Class Passes, as expected. They intend to apply for authorization to take more than the standard monthly limit, due to an excessive number of Skills on their shortlists and the necessary Credits or Skill Vouchers to take them.”
Zephyr hummed quietly in response, not surprised in the least. “Figures.”
Her fingers paused as she spotted the datapad she was looking for—the one she had set up to be dedicated entirely to Thea McKay-related reports. It wasn’t particularly hard to find; the datapad was being updated so often it practically lived on the top of her desk by default anyway, so she knew its exterior by heart already.
Pulling it up, she skimmed the newest report on the girl’s recently completed Digital Mission.
“That’s good though,” she muttered, eyes flicking over the summaries and performance metrics. “If that’s all they’re after, this should be quick.”
She already had everything prepared for Alpha Squad to receive those passes anyway. The only thing left was her signature—and, of course, the Recruits’ personal requests to make it official.
It was one of those small, bureaucratic hoops the UHF insisted every Marine jump through—meant to make sure career choices stayed in the Marine’s own hands, even if those choices weren’t always the most optimal ones.
Still, she respected the policy deeply.
It was one of the big things that truly set the UHF apart from most other Factions out there: Their attempt at keeping a certain level of Humanity, despite the Emperor’s madness—and the very reason Zephyr had devoted her life to ensuring they’d win the Galactic War.
There was little she valued more than the idea that a person’s path should stay theirs to choose, on principle.
Even now, almost a full month later, she still didn’t sleep properly because of what she’d done—pushing the Harbinger’s girl toward the Psyker path during that damned Emergency Meeting.
It was a black mark on her conscience, one she doubted would ever fade.
‘But it was necessary,’ she reminded herself, as she always had to do whenever the memory clawed its way back to the surface. ‘We need that chance to turn things around. If we can just figure out what kind of Classes exist, how to obtain them, and—most importantly—how to counter them… Then maybe, when we face the Assembly in the decades ahead… That knowledge will be what decides whether we stand or fall before the deadline is up.’
A soft chime from the door pulled Zephyr out of her thoughts.
The Sovereign’s voice followed almost immediately, smooth and polite as ever. “Recruits Thea McKay and Karania Faulkner have arrived, Major. Shall I let them in?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Zephyr said, setting down the datapad and straightening her posture.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss, and the two young women stepped in.
Zephyr gave them a brief once-over—habit more than anything—but her eyes lingered on Thea for a moment longer.
She’d been worried.
The news she’d had to break to the girl that morning had been… less than pleasant.
But much to Zephyr’s relief, Thea looked steady. No signs of lingering grief, no slumped shoulders or restless tension.
The girl stood about as tall as one could expect from somebody with her level of social anxiety—half-hidden behind her shield, Karania, but still fighting to look like she wasn’t simply being dragged here against her wishes.
‘Guess cutting your way through a Hold-The-Line against the Freaks helps get some frustrations out of your system,’ Zephyr thought dryly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
Turning her attention fully to the pair, she asked, “So, what brings the two of you here?”
Karania spoke up first, as Zephyr had expected. The Harbingers daughter, for all her prowess in being a killing machine without equal in the Recruit-core, was not one to lead a discussion like this.
“Major, we’d like to request authorization to take additional Skill Classes, beyond the general Recruit-level limit,” she said clearly, her tone inherently confident. “We’ve been refining our shortlists, and given the minimum time constraints between Classes, it would be far more efficient if we could take more than the standard monthly limit. We’ve already calculated the long-term efficiency gains that could be expected in light of our available Credits, Skill Vouchers, and the corresponding Point Value returns, and—”
Zephyr stopped listening somewhere around “efficiency gains.”
She’d already made up her mind to approve the request, but she let the Medic talk—it was good practice for her, if nothing else.
Instead, Zephyr found herself studying Karania more in-depth.
The girl really was something else.
Everyone’s eyes were on the Harbinger’s daughter, and fair enough—the girl had raw potential the likes of which the Corps hadn’t seen in generations; if ever.
But it wasn’t just McKay who was an utter anomaly in this Drive. Karania Faulkner was just as terrifying in her own way—maybe even more so.
Unlike McKay, she didn’t have the luxury of being a Wielder.
No special powers, no Universe-granted advantage.
And while no one could deny the Harbinger’s daughter her achievements, the situation was more nuanced than it appeared.
Her head start didn’t even really qualify as a large one in the grand scheme of things—there were thousands of Wielders in every UHF Recruitment Drive, and most never gained any sort of advantage from the Psychic Powers they were blessed and cursed with, before they were way into Tier 1. Stretching the advantage as far as she had, this early on, was undeniably impressive on its own right.
But it was something else entirely again when a Marine managed to somehow stand nearly on equal footing with her, despite her impressive efforts to push the advantage she was given, without any such advantages.
Everything the Faulkner girl had achieved within the UHF so far had come from nothing but sharp intellect, instinct, and sheer, unrelenting determination, as far as Zephyr had been able to determine.
She had reviewed Alpha Squad’s Assessment footage more than once, and every time she’d found herself double- or triple-checking what she’d just seen, Karania Faulkner had been involved.
The girl’s reactions were too quick. Her plans too layered. Every choice she made, even under fire and in the most desperate of situations, looked like something that had been thought through for hours ahead of time.
The way the Medic had reacted to the IgT bombardment on the eastern front still unsettled her.
She hadn’t just accepted it immediately—as if she’d somehow known it was coming, which should’ve been impossible for a new Recruit, given the nature of the compounds raining down on them—but had also managed to immediately intuit the perfect course of action to save as many lives as possible, and even the exact workings of the compound from a singular instance of seeing it touch anything.
It was unnatural—the kind of unnatural that made even Zephyr’s skin crawl.
‘If she keeps this up… she’s going to be a monster without equal one day,’ Zephyr thought, watching the Medic’s calm posture and unwavering focus as she laid out her arguments.
‘A brilliant, methodical monster—but that might make it all the more terrifying. It’s one thing to be a Marine who can single-handedly turn the tides of battle… it’s another when there’s a mind like hers behind it all.’
The worst part was that Zephyr couldn’t read the Medic at all.
Karania Faulkner had a truly uncanny level of control over her body—so much so that even micro-expressions were often missing. And when they did appear, they felt downright rehearsed, deliberate.
No one her age should’ve even been aware of that kind of control being possible, let alone capable of it.
But Zephyr had learned to trust her instincts over the years, and they told her one thing clearly: If mishandled, Karania Faulkner could someday become a problem of unprecedented scale.
She couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the thought, glancing between the two girls in front of her.
‘Two calamities-in-the-making. Both on my ship, both in Alpha Squad, and both tied together by something that goes beyond simple comradery… If that isn’t a recipe for total disaster, I don’t know what is. Still—this might also be the biggest opportunity the UHF’s had in centuries… Just wish it didn’t have to land on my shoulders to manage all of it,’ she sighed inwardly, nodding along with the Medic’s continued ramblings and appearing very interested.
‘Then again, I suppose that’s how it’s always been for people standing at the turning points across history—you either die trying to make it work, or you pull it off and become a legend.’
Finally, the Faulkner girl wrapped up her explanation and stepped back slightly, motioning for McKay to take over.
“I agree with Karania’s assessments and fully support the request being put forward as-is for both of us,” she said, her tone a little too even—like she’d been coached to say those words exactly that way—before retreating once more behind the safety of her squadmate’s presence.
Zephyr let a small smile tug at the corner of her lips as she met both girls’ eyes—doing her best to suppress the instinctive flinch that came when she met the Cyan’s.
She let the silence in the office stretch, letting it do its work.
Temperament mattered.
Recruits needed to learn that not every request would be met instantly, even when approval was a foregone conclusion. A little resistance now would do them good later; not every officer they encountered in their careers would be as invested in their success as she was.
Eventually, though, she had to break the quiet.
She gave a small nod and said, “Your arguments are sound, Recruits. I’ll see to it that you both get your Skill Class limits increased. Just don’t make me regret it by overdoing the trainings. Time dilation isn’t something either of you has experience with yet, so take it slow. Don’t rush things just because you can. Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” they replied in perfect sync. Zephyr could see that they meant it—or at least, McKay did. With Faulkner, she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust what she saw, but she had no reason to doubt that the Medic would want to destroy herself for no reason either.
She nodded again, halfway through the motion stopping to turn her attention on the Medic.
“You’ll be responsible for her on this. Her tendency to overdo things—to push herself until she’s bleeding out of the ears, all for the sake of progress—isn’t exactly a point in favor of giving her more freedom. I assume that’s part of the reason you brought her along today?”
Faulkner’s eyes widened a fraction too perfectly.
‘That’s fake,’ Zephyr thought immediately. ‘You sly snake. Your actions were transparent on purpose, to make yourself seem less of a threat than you really are, weren’t they?’
“Yes, Ma’am! I’ll make sure she behaves, I guarantee it!” the Medic replied with practiced enthusiasm, punctuating it with a double fist-to-heart salute.
‘You really did your homework,’ Zephyr thought, half impressed, half uneasy. ‘That trick would charm half the officers on this ship; and around ninety-percent outside it.’
She gave one last, full nod of approval before shifting her attention to McKay.
“You listen to your Medic, Recruit. If I hear you’ve been abusing those Skill Classes and managed to wreck your already fragile social net or mental state, I’ll personally tear you apart. Are we clear?”
“Y–Yes, Ma’am! Totally clear! I’ll only do what Kara—uh, Medic Faulkner—signs off on!”
The girl copied the salute, though a half-step off, having no clue why Faulkner had done it in the first place—but doing it anyway because she thought she should.
Zephyr nearly laughed.
‘That’s… actually really cute,’ she thought, forcing back the warmth creeping into her eyes.
Zephyr straightened slightly, smoothing the front of her uniform as she glanced between the two Recruits. “If that’s all, you’re both dismissed,” she said, gesturing toward the door.
“Enjoy your free time while it lasts—because I assure you, it won’t.”
Karania gave a sharp nod, already half turned to leave, when McKay suddenly spoke up.
“Actually… could you go on ahead, Kara? There’s something I’d like to ask Major Quinn. In private.”
Zephyr froze for a heartbeat.
Of all the things she’d expected, that hadn’t been on the list.
Thea McKay didn’t do unprompted private conversations.
The girl was blunt, direct, and—judging from every report Zephyr had read—painfully allergic to unnecessary social interaction.
Even the Medic seemed genuinely caught off guard, blinking once before quickly schooling her expression.
“Oh. Uh… sure. I’ll wait outside then, Thea,” she said softly, giving her friend a brief look that hovered between concern and curiosity before stepping out through the door.
It hissed shut behind her, leaving a heavy stillness in its wake.
Zephyr leaned back in her chair, her focus narrowing entirely on the Harbinger’s daughter.
The girl’s posture was unusually tense, her usual confidence mixed with an unhealthy dose of anxiety replaced by a quiet sort of… restraint. She was clearly weighing her words, running through thoughts in silence, maybe even battling herself on whether to speak at all.
So Zephyr waited.
No interruptions, no leading questions—just calm, watchful patience.
Whatever the girl had to say, it was important enough to make her step completely outside her comfort zone… and that alone was reason enough to make Zephyr’s spine tingle in concern.
After nearly a full minute of thick, uncomfortable silence, the girl finally drew in a slow, steady breath and spoke.
“How… How trustworthy is the Runepriest, Major Quinn? I don’t mean in terms of loyalty to the UHF—I’m asking about him as a person. If protocol demanded it, would he kill me on the spot… or would he be willing to consider alternatives, as long as they didn’t go against the UHF’s goals, now that I’m his official student?”
Zephyr froze.
For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
Her pulse stumbled, then steadied into a slow, tense rhythm as every instinct in her body screamed at once.
The question wasn’t just strange—it was dangerous.
The phrasing alone was deliberate, careful, and far too specific for a simple curiosity. There were layers to it—possibilities that her mind began breaking apart and analyzing all at once, running through every potential meaning, every political and personal implication behind those words.
And none of the conclusions she was drawing made her feel any better.
The first thing that hit her was that she, of all people, had been chosen for a question like this.
A question that could change the course of a life—or end it outright.
The more Zephyr thought about it, the more she suspected the Harbinger’s hand in it—indirectly, at least.
Someone as respected, connected and deliberate as the General had been according to the stories, wouldn’t have missed her long-standing friendship with Atlas, one of his most promising pupils.
He’d probably instilled a sense of personal loyalty toward her in the girl—some quiet contingency, a thread of trust meant to give the Harbinger’s daughter someone to turn to outside the usual chain of command.
Someone “likely trustworthy,” simply by direct association with Atlas.
And in this moment, Zephyr was intensely grateful for that.
Because if McKay had gone to anyone else on the ship with that kind of question, the results could’ve been disastrous.
What the girl had just asked would have been considered borderline treason by the overeager—and outright insubordination by everyone else.
But that wasn’t her intent.
Zephyr could see that clearly enough in her tone, in the careful way she’d chosen her words.
The second realization, though—the one that made Zephyr silently curse Atlas’s name—was harder to swallow.
The very fact that Thea McKay had asked the question at all meant the damage between her and the UHF ran much deeper than Zephyr had hoped.
‘She doesn’t trust us. Not at all…’ Zephyr thought grimly. ‘And who could blame her, really? Emperor damn it, Atlas—why did you have to black-lock her profile like that? If you hadn’t, one of the dozen other officers aboard could’ve seen the signs sooner—got her the Overdraw primer, the Psyker basics—before everything went to shit and—’
She forced the thought to stop there.
No point spiraling over what couldn’t be changed.
Atlas wasn’t here, the damage was done, and now it fell on her to clean up the mess he’d left behind. Still, she promised herself that the next time he set foot on the Sovereign, she’d beat the ever-living shit out of him—they were long overdue for a lengthy sparring match anyway, and she had more than enough reason to pursue it, the next time she could.
For now, though, she had to focus on the girl in front of her.
At the very least, she could try to answer the question in a way that might bridge the growing gulf between Thea McKay and the UHF.
Even if she had no real idea what could’ve driven the girl to risk everything—her standing, her career, even her damn life—to ask something as dangerous as this in the first place…
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Comments
Brian
Great chapter but I felt the foreword quote was far too long. I understand the quotes are there for subtle world building but this one was a miss for me. It was too long, makes you want to skip it and get to the chapter.
Alley
I love major quinn's POV's. More please! Also would enjoy a snippet of the Old Man's life in the undercity without Thea, but I assume that will happen closer to or during the ship duty arc. Might be a cool prologue
