The subsector of Piltov Secundus, though perhaps lacking in the raw potency of Beyonder forces that flourished in other regions of the Segmentum, stood as the zenith of technological mastery within the Imperium's borders.
Among its luminaries, Heimerdinger shone as the pinnacle of this pinnacle. The diminutive Yodite Mechanicus adepts, unburdened by the mortal coil's decay, devoted their eternal existence to the pursuit of knowledge. In Heimerdinger's long life, the sacred quest for scientific revelation consumed the lion's share of his endeavors.
A prodigy of unparalleled brilliance yet marked by an eccentric and mercurial disposition, he was hailed as the most innovative and revered savant Piltov Secundus had ever known.
Beyond his own ingenuity, Heimerdinger was a masterful pedagogue. Though his theorems often appeared abstruse and impenetrable, he held steadfast to the credo that knowledge was a sacred trust, to be disseminated freely among those who thirsted for enlightenment. He dedicated himself to mentoring those eager to plumb the depths of the Omnissiah's mysteries.
Heimerdinger's acolytes were legion, and he counted himself among the few privy to the extraordinary Beyonder gifts of Orlan. The enigmas of the cosmos enthralled Heimerdinger, but technologies originating beyond the Materium's veil left him in rapturous awe.
Throughout Orlan's scholarly odyssey, Heimerdinger proved an indispensable ally, his vast intellect a bulwark against the unknown. In turn, Orlan's flights of imaginative genius never failed to astonish the Yodite savant, and over the years of his tutelage, Heimerdinger invested his heart in the young adept's potential.
"Not long ago, your emissary from the Ionian Enclave delivered your missive, prompting me to commence fabrication of this apparatus. Contacting you has proven no small feat, given the volatility of your dreamscape realm.
If you bear urgent tidings, speak them plainly now. I cannot guarantee I'll be able to summon you here again."
To achieve dream-capture, Heimerdinger required activation of the device precisely as Orlan verged upon entering his dreamscape.
Yet the temporal currents of the Materium and the Immaterium flowed discordantly, rendering this alignment a stroke of fortuitous chance. Heimerdinger, lacking expertise in oneiric phenomena, had designed the apparatus as an amplifier, augmenting the dreamscape's potency.
The device drew upon the sorcerous energies of Lulu, a diminutive psyker of Yodite lineage, to intensify the dreamscape's allure, drawing Orlan to this locus with greater certainty.
This was the sole pattern Heimerdinger had discerned in Orlan's dream-entering Beyonder ability: realms tied to the spirit or soul were frequent destinations, and those versed in psychic or spiritual arcana—particularly in uncharted locales—exerted a potent pull upon him.
"My thanks, Master Heimerdinger."
Orlan, well-versed in the profound impact of a worthy mentor, knew a true teacher could elevate one's destiny, while an unworthy one could shatter countless lives.
"You are my most promising adept. This is but a trifle. You seem unburdened by pressing matters—perhaps this is a new opportunity. Seize this serendipity, for it may herald transformative change for the galaxy."
A crackling hum interrupted as Orlan's form flickered, growing ethereal. This was not his awakening but a malfunction in Heimerdinger's apparatus.
The fault lay not in the design but in its power source—Lulu, the Yodite psyker.
Though generous and eager to aid, Lulu's unreliability was undeniable. Focus eluded her, even in this critical moment, and her erratic psychic output destabilized the dreamscape, causing its premature dissolution.
Orlan's words were cut short as his dream-journey ended abruptly.
Aboard his vessel, Orlan jolted awake from his dream, a rare occurrence. Yet this nocturnal voyage had served its purpose, conveying his status and allaying the concerns of his allies.
His retainers in Piltov Secundus, upon receiving rumors of his peril, had mustered a mercenary cohort to launch a rescue operation for their master.
Many of Orlan's followers hailed from the underhives of Zaun Primaris, where he treated them with rare dignity, earning their fervent loyalty—a simple demand of the downtrodden that few fulfilled.
Orlan's disappearance had nearly sparked chaos, quelled only by Ahri's timely missive.
The mercenary force remained mobilized, but Heimerdinger's successful contact this night finally eased their fears, though it unleashed a minor tumult in Piltov Secundus.
Lulu's uncontrolled psychic surge transformed several bystanders into bizarre, fantastical creatures, staging a surreal spectacle dubbed the "Piltov Night of Wonders."
Orlan, now awake, emerged onto the deck, his gaze lost among the alien constellations, his thoughts a tapestry of contemplation.
"Orlan? You're awake early."
From the second deck's railing, Caitlyn dangled upside-down, honing her physique. Her feline agility, honed by nocturnal instincts, thrived in the dark, amplified by the hextech heart augmenting her capabilities, reducing her need for slumber.
A few hours' rest at midday sufficed, while Blitzcrank stood sentinel nearby, ever vigilant.
A servitor's mechanical form required no sleep, though Frankenstein, another construct, mimicked human repose to conserve power and blend with humanity.
"I dreamt of something peculiar," Orlan replied.
"Master, at seven o'clock, a vessel approaches, pursued by another," Blitzcrank intoned.
Following the clash between Frankenstein and Caesar, the MADS explorator vessel had resumed its voyage, anchoring only at nightfall.
Navigating the void by night was perilous, particularly along the Great Warp Route, where most vessels halted to avoid treacherous currents.
"How far?" Orlan queried.
"Distance calibrated: three nautical miles. Estimated arrival: fifteen minutes."
Blitzcrank's visual augmetics, equipped with night vision, telescopic lenses, and infrared sensors, surpassed human sight in the dark.
"They've mistaken us for a beacon. Sound the alarm, prepare for combat."
The MADS vessel, one of few in the void boasting stable power, had been misidentified as a navigational beacon before. Many of its savants, night owls by habit, kept their laboratoriums illuminated.
Assuming hostility until identities were confirmed was a cardinal rule in these pirate-infested voids.
As the MADS vessel braced for conflict, aboard the fleeing ship, a cadre of scholarly figures readied themselves for battle.
"Doctor! The pirates are closing in—we can't outrun them!"
"Sir! Ahead lies not a beacon but another vessel. We're trapped!"
The leader, distinguished by a clover-shaped crest of hair and wielding a curved blade, furrowed his brow at the sailors' reports. The tenacity of their pursuers confounded him.
"Greedy pirates," he muttered. "We found no treasures in those ruins, yet they refuse to believe us, hounding us relentlessly."
This was an explorator vessel, its crew composed of scholars from across the subsector, united in their quest to unearth the galaxy's lost histories.
The clover-haired man, Captain Clover, was not yet renowned, but hailed from Ohara, a nascent bastion of archaeo-lore destined to become a sacred archive.