Herald of the Stars: Chapter Two Hundred and Ninety-Seven

“Oh, don’t be so up tight, Magos Issengrund,” says Tanthus, his well formed second chin wobbling as he speaks. “Why did you even make the snacks available if no one is going to eat them? Do you think someone who lives on a crappy void station like Footfall can afford to miss out on free food?”

“I was going to pay you a compliment,” I say. “That moment has now passed. Liege Moross, I am going to give you just enough rope for you to hang yourself with, metaphorically.”

“So dramatic,” says Tanthus. “Well? What are your terms, Magos? How do you intend to chain me after stealing my kingdom from under me?”

Ignoring his rudeness, I say, “Over the next ten years, we’re going to auction the remaining 17 district seats in four batches. During this time, you will be the temporary administrator. Your primary role is to ensure Footfall runs smoothly through facilitating trade, following the code of laws and administrative systems that the Stellar Fleet provides, and schmoozing with Imperial officials. 

“Your second role is to constantly experiment with the simulator I am going to give you, called HiveSim. It will let you stress test Footfall through multiple complex scenarios simultaneously. It may be an entertainment tool, yet its accuracy is top notch. 

“HiveSim uses Dark Age of Technology physical models and sophisticated economic simulations to recreate whole systems and the billions of people living within them. While we’ve been talking, I used HiveSim to discover exactly how each regulation that has been proposed would play out over the next century. The results were promising. However, the simulations were a milk run, with few negative events and its fidelity reduced in favour of speed.

“The purpose of this simulation, for you at least, is two-fold. One is to learn how your actions as an administrator will play out over time and use it to keep Footfall on track. The smallest of changes can have the oddest cascades. The other is to test what happens when events are not in your favour, and use that data to prepare accordingly. That means creating disaster plans, having the right supplies and trained personnel in place, and taking preventive measures.

“The simulator will be linked to Footfall’s administrative systems. Each simulation attempt will start with Footfall’s current status from its physical condition to the recorded personality traits, appearance, and actions of its citizens. One of your first jobs will be creating a team to input all the remaining historical data.

“If you do your job properly, when the ten years are up, the new Footfall Council will select their candidate for the next thirty year stint. That could be you. The residents will keep voting until they’ve narrowed their choice to 3 local born citizens with a Tech-Adept equivalent education. The council will test and interview these people then the nineteen Rogue Trader seats will vote for their favoured candidate. As the only non-Rogue Trader entity, the Barghests will not vote to avoid a tie. Instead, they will ensure there is no skullduggery during voting.”

“You expect me to learn all your oil spraying nonsense on top of steering this battered rock? You’re even locking down all the possible candidates to whatever comes out of your freaky vats! What is the point of me even trying?”

“It takes the average Stellar Fleet vat-born 14 years to reach Tech-Adept status. Four of those are spent working, two performing mundane repairs, and two as Herald Conscripts. Heiress Alpia is on an accelerated course and, assuming a starting age of 16, is expected to finish hers in 7 to 8 years even with interruptions and while training to be Stellar Fleet officer. She will be fully qualified by 24 Terran years, rather than the average of 30.

“Cramming knowledge into your head is not a problem. Seeing what you do with it is where the test lies.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or annoyed that you expect me to perform on par with an Imperial Saint,” says Tanthus. 

“A final thought for you to consider. About 30% of Stellar Fleet immigrants have avoided the Penal Regiments, not including the Penitents. 38% of Penal Light Infantry survive their sentence of three major deployments, on average, that’s way better than an Imperial Guard volunteer, who almost never survive three deployments, let alone their 25 year service. Abusing my trust and the opportunities I provide isn’t always a death sentence. That does not mean you will enjoy the consequences.”

Tanthus chuckles, “Of course the Magos Explorator with the administrator wife would threaten me with percentages. Such familiar ground is almost comforting. Far more understandable than the rest of your babble. Fine. I accept your collar. Where do I sign?”

The hololith projector on the table powers up and Aruna appears. The Machine-Spirit flicks its mechadendrite tail making the feather-like antennae at the end vibrate. A single note hums through the room, like a tuning fork, announcing its presence.

Aruna smiles, revealing hundreds of teeth, shaped like cogitator pins. A strip of aged, green copper wires covers its spine, mimicking fur, and the ruff around its neck and chest glow with thousands of tiny lights in multiple colours, simulating fiber optic cables.

Right in the centre of its bronze skull, sprayed in black, is my hammer and cog symbol. The red glow within its chest is as strong as ever.

Tanthus leaps out of his chair with remarkable agility, even more so for a man who looks out of shape. Leonis shouts in surprise, his third eyelid twitching. Abbisine grabs her incense burner, then lights it. Ephrine pulls out prayer beads from her pocket, and grips them in her fist, though she does not start praying.

“Good day, Aruna. Thank you for coming,” I say.

++Organic greeting ritual acknowledged. Reply: data requested, Aruna obeys. Ritual terminated. Accessing report: Footfall’s systems have been successfully re-written to follow Stellar Fleet protocols. Administrative Machine-Spirits installed and active; inadequate data terminals observed; no qualified operators detected. Simulator ‘HiveSim: Footfall Mod’ compromised: Footfall auspex coverage at 7.462%, repairs critical; 15.968% of records remain accessible, manual recovery required; cogitators running at 94.2%, expansion required, maintenance critical. Estimated time until data loom failure, 89 Terran days.++

Wow, that's even worse than I thought! Good job we’re stripping everything down to the silicate rocks and that Brigid has found a way to avoid paying for most of it, all while making us a profit.

“Excellent work, Aruna. How long until the physical documents arrive?”

++Inferring ‘physical documents’ from previous request: Footfalls new charter, a modified lex imperialis, and the codified administrator duties and powers document are inbound via Servitor. ETA is one minute.++

“Answer acknowledged. Aruna, do you have any requests for me after running all those simulations on short notice?”

++Social obligation recognised. Reply: negative, Magos Issengrund. All systems are running within specification. Current cogitator maintenance rituals and the Omnisiac Congregator’s efforts are sufficient. Dying Light’s structural integrity is over 98%. Potential power output is 160% of theoretical maximum usage. Aruna stands ready to purge xenos. Queery: when do we depart?++

“As soon as the next batch of Herald conscripts finish their duty and the micro-factories have been replicated in sufficient numbers, then installed in the Red Schola. Sufficient number meaning equal to Distant Sun’s manufacturing capability.”

++Departure calculated at 16 Terran days. Confirm?++

“Yes, 16 days is the goal and we are going to the Latheworlds via Port Wander and Scintilla.”

Aruna trots over to Tanthus and hops onto the back of the chair then looks into his eyes. Tanthus straightens up and brushes down his well tailored clothes.

Ottavio’s datapad and stylus floats out of his hands and over to Tanthus. Alpia’s eyes take on a golden sheen and her lips quirk up as her face crinkles with mischief. Ottavio makes a grab for his datapad but Riordan grabs his arm before he can recover it.

A long document appears in the air next to Aruna and the stylus slips into Tanthus’ hand.

++Liege Moross. Place your thumb against the datapad then sign your name.++

Trembling slightly, Tanthus doesn’t even read the document hovering next to Aruna and immediately follows Aruna’s instructions.

++Digital signature and biometrics acquired.++

A Servitor enters, pushing a trolley stacked with books and a scroll case. A sturdy datapad rests on top of the books. Tanthus looks over at the sound and blanches when he sees how thick the books are.

“How did you even have time to prepare all of this?” says Tanthus. “The meeting was barely an hour. You just stopped talking!”

“Oh! The meeting was far longer for me and most of the other people here,” I say. “We were all chatting in the Noosphere at an accelerated rate. For us this was 6 hours while discussing ideas in Lingua Technis in two additional instances. The words we spoke out here were for the benefit of those less blessed by the Omnissiah and Machine-God. Did you really think so many people would state ‘we’ll do this thing’ with such confidence and know it will happen without anyone raising an objection? The real discussion was far more lively and lengthy.”

“Impossible! And this mechanical beast? What is this thing?” says Tanthus.

“The Machine-Spirit of Distant Sun. Be honoured by its presence,” I say. “You stand before an immortal being of cogs and motive force, crafted by the finest Magi of Belecane and tempered by a near infinite sea of data. Aruna is a Herald of the Machine-God in the Materium and you should treat it with the reverence such a position deserves.”

Alpia messages me, “Aren’t you laying it on a bit thick, Dad? That petty sack of meat is about to cease his mortal functions.”

“Says the young lady who is assisting Aruna with telekinesis for a better show.”

“He was rude and boring.”

“Hmm, well. I quite agree. Let’s stop this little play here though. We’ve bullied him enough. He has been reminded of his position and frailties. We should not let this turn to cruelty.”

Tathus recovers his wits, then says, “Greetings noble Machine-Spirit.”

The scroll case opens by itself, followed by a quill, and I sigh. Alpia clearly has had enough of the meeting and wants everyone to know it. While cats always look smug, Aruna has elevated it to an art form and seems pleased with his part in this intimidation play. I suspect he is annoyed about the poor condition of Footfall’s Noosphere.

++Greetings acknowledged and dismissed. Sign the charter document and affix your seal of office to the wax, Liege Moross.++

Tanthus picks up the quill, signs the document, then presses a ring to the red blob of wax, not questioning why the wax doesn’t need to be heated. Frost forms on the document the moment he is done and Tathus jerks his hand away.

The charter document then floats towards Riordan, who also signs and stamps it, followed by Calligos, Raphael, Leonis, Ephrine, and I.

“Thank you, everyone,” I say. “We’re done here. Liege Moross, follow the Servitor back to the shuttle. A team of Heralds will escort you back to your office, then help you secure the charter and the other documents. Brigid, JK-404 please stay behind. The rest of you are free to go.”

Alpia whoops with joy, then says, “I’m off!” She grabs her beanbag and dashes off, teleporting through the door rather than waiting for it to open.

“That girl of ours has far too much energy,” says Brigid.

“She is a font of joy,” I say, “and I hope it lasts forever. I do wish she was less reckless with her powers though. Teleportation is not something one should use on a whim.”

Brigid hums, “I rather think the practice is worth it.”

Everyone disperses, exchanging a few words as they do so. It takes a handful of minutes for the room to empty.

Once only Brigid, JK-404, and I remain, Brigid says, “Alright Aldrich? What is this about? I can tell you’re tense. Are you still having trouble coming to terms with everything that’s happened recently, or is this about something else?”