He led me by my hand through the halls of the ship until we reached the ships library. He called up a historical text on a dataslate, and connected it to a holo-projector, calling up a star chart, and removed his mask. As he bagan to read it to me, a song began to play. A song of such terrible beauty and sorrow that it moved me to tears, even before I understood why.
Gotz read me the history of Krieg, and the holo-projector followed along with images. The song lilted when he spoke of the planets beauty, and swelled when he spoke of its proud people. It dithered when the rebellion against the emperor broke out, and came to a terrible crescendo at the rain of atomic fire. I was speechless, and my heart ached, but he was not done. As the song faded, drowning in its own sorrow, he spoke of the radioactive sludge that fell from the sky, that still rains to this day, 500 years later. He spoke of devotion, of loyalty, of pride, of honor, of things intangible and yet somehow perceivable, to both he and I, as we sat in that dark library together. It wasn't until he was through that I realized his face was almost as tear-streaked as my own by then.
And then the song changed to one of hope. Not cheery, nor upbeat, but strong, hopeful, and with purpose. He brought up the star chart again, and zoomed to a place in the galaxy concealed by warp storms. There, he told me, was Terranis. There Terranis was, there it had held. There it is, and there it holds. As the song propelled itself forward, lifting my heart and my eyes, Gottfried spoke of a place of simple beauty, quiet rest, of brotherhood, of dutiful readiness and introspective contemplation, love of the emperor and of your family and friends. He told me how there, everyone holds together, no one holds alone. How anywhere, no one can hold alone, but with the emperor, your faith in him and your comrades, you're never alone. Even when the foes are infinite and victory impossible, you don't need to win....