Herald of the Stars: Chapter Three Hundred and Fourteen

My holiday lasts for three days. It is a strange experience, though not unpleasant. After my personal revelation, I no longer view spending such time as wasteful and would be willing to repeat it. I use my own memories to remain consistent in my behaviour, using it as a filter to know what is kind and thoughtful and what is not.

By the end of our brief reprieve, Quaani has regained a little of his cheer and Annette is more relaxed. Young George is showing a good understanding of what people around him are saying, even if he can only articulate his own intent through an arcane babble beyond even a Magos to interpret. Annette, however, manages to understand him just fine.

Brigid and Alpia argue often. I think they are getting along and this is just their own way of communicating, though I remain uncertain. My memories inform me that I should not attempt to mediate, refuse if invited to, then spend time with them both separately while avoiding the topic of their previous discussion. I follow these instructions precisely. I have no idea why this is the case, but it seems to work and gets me lots of compliments, so I must be doing something right.

After our holiday, we depart for Scintilla, Crown World of the Calixis Sector and home to 25 billion people. Quaani and I take turns to navigate during the two month journey. 

Annette does not help as she is pregnant again and far too busy looking after George and educating the Ortelius scions that we were given. While such a task could be given to another, convincing an individual to educate children who can flay your soul if you make them do their homework is best handled by those with the means to stop them. Even my Psy-Errants aren’t suitable for the task, though they do provide moderate assistance.

The journey is no more eventful than any other voyage through the Immaterium. No ships, at least, are lost and everything and everyone else is replaceable.

The transition to Scintilla from the Mandeville Point takes three weeks and we take up orbit above Hive Tarsus, next to the orbital docks. Like Port Wander, the orbit of Scintilla is crammed with massive cargo vessels, defensive platforms, and a monitor fleet. There is a small Inquisition Fleet of seven vessels, six escorts and a light cruiser.

While all weapon batteries in orbit are powered down, every single vessel and void station in the system has its Void Shields fully powered, a most unusual, and alarming statement. Trade, however, continues to flow, thousands of shuttles bringing megatonnes of goods to and from orbit every hour.

Tarsus is Scintilla’s lesser Hive built in the centre of the planet’s harshest desert, along the equator. The Hive manufactures few goods. Instead, Tarsus serves as a hub for the Scintilla’s trade, exporting goods manufactured in Hive Sibellus and Gunmetal City. It also hosts the primary barracks of the Scintillan Protectorate, Scintilla’s PDF forces, and the Cathedral of Illumination, the Imperial Cult’s main bastion of wealth and influence. 

Meanwhile Ambulon, a pre-imperial megastructure over a thousand metres tall, roams the steppes of Scintilla’s northern temperate landmass, one of three continents. It is visible through the thick pollution obscuring much of the planet, mining minerals, unearthing gems, and guzzling down crude oil, moving across the world one earth shaking step at a time.

Huge land trains, many kilometres long, move between Ambulon, Gunmetal City, and Hive Sibellus, throwing up huge trails of dust that travel half way around the planet before they fall.

This two month journey was predominantly for Raphael, who needs to check in with the Calixian Conclave located at Sibelius’ Tricorn Palace, a trio of austere towers at the northern edge of a Hive sprawl that stretches for eight thousand kilometres. He is quick to take a shuttle down and I only hold him up long enough to ask him to find out what the latest news from the Lathes is.

While I wait for Raphael to complete his work, I exploit the connections of my new junior officers, ordering them to send out comuniques, offering my biomancy and cybernetic expertise in exchange for a new Goliath Class Factory Ship and perhaps two more transports as well. I need the production capacity to speed up the replacement of all the Strike-Craft we lost at Footfall.

I am determined to purchase some Orion Class Star Clippers and I am uninterested in the usual bulky and slow transports of the Imperium. I would begrudgingly accept more Carracks as they’re only a little slower than Torchbearer and I already have two. With new transports, I can dump the Jericho and have a proper location for the Sororitas and Penitents. Maybe I can even get that knight for Alpia, or repair my Nova Cannon, though I doubt it.

Four hours later, the first offers start creeping in, along with a rather stern message from Consul Sevavin, the senior administrator responsible for Goldenhand, a labyrinthian complex in Hive Tarsus where most trades take place on Scintilla. 

Within the halls of Goldenhand, beneath the gaze of its gold masked and brown and bronze coloured suited staff, millions of people speak a pigeon dialect called Goldtongue, competing for resources through duels, assasination, and lots of shouting. 

Apparently not going through Goldenhand is considered rather rude and I have already offended the locals. My offers will not get taken seriously unless I hold a proper auction within their halls, where Goldenhand will no doubt take their cut, likely demanding a free trial to validate my services.

I already have to put up with enough cultivation nonsense from the Emperor, so there is no way that I am going to waste my time with an auction. I hand off the work to Seraphine Lebarcham, Stellar Fleet SOL’s High Factotum. It’s her job to deal with trade and I’ve done my part to kick the bomb squig among the snotlings. I know she can handle the rest.

This turns out to be an excellent idea as Raphael returns and requests an emergency meeting. He requests that I meet him aboard his shuttle and I see no reason not to provide this small courtesy.

Raphael meets me at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the top of his shuttle, a Class One Delta Pattern Orbital Transport. His clothes are a little rumpled and a bruise is forming on his face. His bolt pistol has a fresh trace of blood on the grip.

Raphael gestures to the stairs, “Not here Aldrich.”

I follow Raphael up the steps and into the cockpit of the shuttle. The pilot salutes us when we enter, then exits without prompting. I am at a loss for a moment why we are here, then I remember that the cockpit has the best security and soundproofing on the shuttle.

I take a seat and Raphael practically collapses into the one adjacent to me.

“Raphael, what happened?”

“I am starting to wonder if you are cursed, Aldrich. There’s always something happening around you.” Raphael shakes his head and his face turns cold, “No matter. I am here now and shall deal with it.”

I raise both eyebrows.

“It being,” continues Raphael, “growing civil unrest in Hive Sibelius.”

“So you visited the Tricorn Palace and it went poorly. What does this civil unrest have to do with us?”

“I am going to need you, or more likely Alpia, to assist in negotiating the release of Saint Petrus Lascaris from the Inquisition. Unfortunately, they’re going to be insufferable about it as they ended up being right.”

“That still does not sound like a Stellar Fleet SOL problem to me. Start from the beginning please.”

“That would make more sense, wouldn’t it?” Raphael takes a deep breath, “Saint Petrus Lascaris is a devout scribe in service to Cardinal Ignato. Saint Petrus’ canonization occurred, as best as I can tell, at the same time as Saint Alpia, so he’s one of the new Imperial Saints that are popping up all over the galaxy.

“The Calixian Conclave, and you need to keep this quiet, have a habit of collecting artefacts and securing them. While all conclaves and inquisitorial fortresses do this, the Calixian Conclave has a particularly troublesome department called Reliquary 26. These fellows don’t just secure dangerous artefacts, they force people to turn over important bits of history as well and are aggressive in their procurement.”

“They abducted Saint Petrus, didn’t they?”

Raphael smirks, “Not so fast, Aldrich. It’s not quite that clear cut. Reliquary 26 has clashed with the Cathedral of Illumination and Cardinal Ignato on numerous occasions over artefacts, or so the Cardinal claims. The waters are as murky as Scintilla’s polluted oceans; absolutely every noble house on Scintilla competes over artefacts, constantly stealing them from each other to show off their wealth. 

“This has led to Reliquary 26, and thus the Calixian Conclave, gaining a reputation for swiping everything within reach, a rumour that has just enough truth to be seen as fact, even though Reliquary 26,” Raphael clears his throat, “and all the other reliquaries that come before and after it, are only interested in the most vital devices and dangerous xenos artefacts, much of which is fueled by the cold trade that comes from the Koronus Expanse, especially Footfall and Trader Winterscale!”

“That is, at best, tangentially related to me,” I say.

Raphael reaches behind his chair and pulls a small medikit from the webbing on the back, “I’m getting there. Now, Cardinal Ignato had the brilliant idea of using Saint Petrus’ new status to recover some artefacts that the Inquisition had allegedly stolen from the Cathedral of Illumination. Petrus agreed as he was one of the curators for the Cathedral’s artefact collection.”

I chuckle, “Of course he was.”

Raphael continues, “While Petrus was visiting the reliquaries and being shown that no, the Inquisition did not have the Ministorum’s precious ashes of the last saint who walked the Cathedral’s nave, a Genestealer cult showed its face. The cult likely thought that now was the perfect time to try and capture a Saint as the visit was rather public. They attacked the Tricorn Palace and the Inquisition secured the Saint for his own safety.

“Like just about everything, this turned out to be a trap. The public perception was manipulated and the dead Genestealers were hailed as martyrs for trying to free the Saint. No doubt the Genestealers were responsible for the rumour, but by then it was too late. Not that it would matter, few know what Genestealers are and it would lead to mass panic on Scintilla if they did. Thus the truth was hidden to prevent a worse riot.”

I say, “A reasonable precaution." 

“I am glad that you think so,” says Raphael. “All manner of groups have been attacking the fortress through multiple intermediaries, each with their own agenda, including the Ministorum’s Militia Fratoris.

“The Calixian Conclave refuses to accept help as they don’t trust anyone else to guard Saint Petrus, especially as it is the Militia Fratoris who are doing the most shooting.

“Governor Marius Hax has mobilised the Arbites and Magistratum, two factions that loathe each other, to hunt down the Genestealers. Keeping them on task is taking up all his time. The Genestealer cull ended up revealing a Chaos Pleasure Cult, filled with citizens from the upper spire, that like to hunt Humans in the lower Hive for sport. Both incidents are tying up the peace keeping forces and the Inquisition’s specialists can’t help because they’re getting shot at by the Imperial Cult.”

Raphael grimaces and pulls a small pot of cream from the first aid kit and rubs it into his face.

I say, “That is the most stupid story I have ever heard and I have raised six children. Seven, if you count Quaani. I certainly do.”

“It gets worse. The Inquisition's fleet are being eyed up by Scintilla’s monitor fleet to prevent the situation from escalating. The PDF have mobilised, but are not deployed for much the same reason. Meanwhile, trade continues to flow so that the planet doesn’t starve, no doubt spreading the Genestealer infection through the stars. It’s not like stopping them now will help much after all this time, so the goods continue to flow.”

I nod.

Raphael continues, “It wouldn’t do for a Tithe Fleet to come knocking if goods get delayed, which they will if this unrest gets worse. This is bad for you as you commandeered the last one. The next Tithe Fleet you encounter may take umbrage to that. They won’t care about what happened, only that you stole their authority. Rather ballsy of you to mess with the Tithe Fleet, I must say.”

“A problem for another time, I say.” 

“Alas, no. Calixis has the highest tithe rate possible and the Administratum keeps a close eye on it, even from Terra. Best to complete your business here as soon as possible Aldrich and get out of here. If you want Marius Hax to rush everything along, that means helping him out. I suppose you could run off without helping, but I doubt Alpia will be pleased to know that you abandoned a fellow Saint.

“So, does that sound like a ‘you’ problem now? Magos Issengrund.”

I hum, “An fascinating puzzle, I’m sure. The most important detail of which is why is your blood on the end of your own pistol, don’t you think?”