Reetch. That is what they call this world.
Reetch. It is not a word but a name.
Reetch. That word gave my translator so much trouble until we finally understood.
Not reach, but Reetch. The name of their homeworld.
I am sure of it. Seven times has the sun risen since our darkship inserted us into the highland mountains of this world. Seven days have we ranged through field and forest, taking the measure of this world’s sentries with holy instruments. I have seen the orbital defenses streaking across the horizon with my naked eyes. So many warships, so many starside fortresses. No other colony we have graced had such a splendor of might! This must be the Humans’ final redoubt! What world but their cradle would be so zealously guarded?
They deny it, of course.
The serfs we have interrogated speak only a mongrel language unknown to my translator, and so my interrogators have been unable to pry any information from them. A worthless task anyways. Surely such a lowly caste, banished to the mountains to till poor soil, knows nothing worth my time. And few of the soldiers we have captured are so fearful and shallow of spirit as to break under interrogation. Most just recite a litany of their name and their standing within their legion.
But one broke. And she told me everything.
Aneeka van Onselen. Capteen of the Aycompanee of the 231st Ranjurs, subservient to the Onotherd Ranjur legion. She was such a delicate thing to be a warrior in command of warriors. The mere threat of the Kig-Yar's ministrations made her babble like a child, and when she regained her composure, she told me so much. Strange. She is the first Human I have ever truly spoken to.
She came to Reetch years ago to train as a soldier, and again to be initiated into the Ranjurs, as did many of the warriors beneath her. She trained in the wilderness where we did battle, and she birthed her first litter of children in the city down on the plains. She told me that this world’s shipyards are most active of all, and when the Humans’ fleets are depleted in battle, they come here to re-arm and repair. Even the Demons were forged here, she was certain of it!
But when I asked her of the location of the Human cradle-world, she hesitated. The Humans have shed oceans of their own blood to keep the location of that world secret, and even she would not reveal it. But when I asked if Reetch is where the Humans climbed from the primordial muck, I saw the glint of terror in her eyes. That told me all I need to know.
I have fought the Humans since the first cycle of the war. From one tainted world to another I have chased them, and I know how jealously they protect the location of their cradle world. To have finally discovered it, to be among the first warriors to set foot upon its dirt, is the greatest victory I have ever known. A feeling most profound!
To think that I came here in search of relics!
And yet the cold shadows of doubt close in around my hearts. Devoted Supreme Abto Tel 'Muralumee awaits my testimonial. We have discovered the resting place of the Forerunner’s instruments, and we are ready for extraction. Even the interwoven defenses of this world cannot keep us out. And if I reveal that we have found the Human cradle-world, all of the fleets in this sector will be drawn here. All of them. Thel ‘Vadamee himself will descend with the indomitable Fleet of Particular Justice. The Fleet of Holy Respite will race him for the honor.
But what then?
The destruction of Humanity is the will of the gods, and we are their instrument. Their crimes are so great that the Mute Oracle violated its ages-old vow of silence to condemn them. Had not the Hierarchics intervened and pled on our behalf, the Oracle would have torn the Anodyne Spirit from High Charity and personally laid waste to Humanity. We can only choke back our shock that a race can be so fallen, and carry out the duty that was given to us.
But have the Humans not suffered enough?
We have purged world after world, sealing the Humans’ doom with vast glyphs of judgment. The Prophets tell us that the Humans are utterly in thrall to their machine intelligence masters, but this is not so! I have seen them fight with skill and great valor, and for the sake of their fellow warriors. They are not just puppets of the False Oracles. Even Aneeka nearly spent her life to take that of my shieldbearer.
Are they truly beyond redemption? When we discover the Holy Rings and enkindle their luminous wisdom, will every last Human be left behind?
My hearts lie heavy, for I do not know the answer. But I have my duty, and such questions are for men much wiser than I.
I will send the message. I will tell my master what we have found. And then perhaps I will pry the answers I seek from Aneeka. I have time. The Humans are mobilizing their armies against me, and my men suspect that Demons are on the march. Indeed, Aneeka swears it to be so.
So be it. My soul is riven with questions, but I know my duty.
Shon'ai.