"Hmm... although I can't make anything out at the ends of the threads... the Tyranids in the Octarius Sector face a very difficult future. A green Ork head looms over them. Their threat to the galaxy is no longer a shadow hanging over it, either. The future has become murky and unknowable."
With her eyes closed, Ovisus struggled to follow the threads of fate forward. It was far too difficult. Only after sweat covered her back and forehead did she manage to give a vague answer.
"That... that's wonderful. Seeing that much is enough, more than enough... at least part of the Malan'tai Craftworld's destruction has been avenged..." Yriel's voice trembled, betraying his excitement and joy.
Yriel felt that Ovisus's venture to seek the Prophecy of Destiny had helped him achieve some of his aims for revenge, and his regard for her grew considerably.
So he said, "I control this entire warship. If you don't want to go back, I can help you. If Master Parker Pan refuses, I can help you persuade him."
After giving it careful thought, Ovisus declined. "No, I'd better not. The master is right. This great prophecy is too important. But I do need some help. Could we take a detour? I'd like to contact that kinsman again. I hope he's still alive, and I sincerely want to thank him for his courageous help."
"A warrior who dared venture deep into the Orks' heartland? I imagine he must be a legendary ranger. No problem. I'll arrange it." Yriel agreed happily. Although he had little life left, the joy of successful vengeance made him feel it was well worth it.
Back in the Tarrok System.
Boss Slick had far fewer worries. He was delighted to be back in reality. Now he sat on the new throne