She was spared thinking of an answer by a polite knock at the door and the arrival of four men in black suits, each with a Shonai cartel pin in their lapels. Almerz Chanda was at their head and he bowed to the governor as they filed in. Their expressions were dark and gloomy and Shonai could well understand their unhappiness.
'Well, gentlemen,' began Shonai, before they could offer her any banal platitudes regarding her loss. 'How bad is it?'
The men appeared uncomfortable with the question, none of them willing to volunteer an answer.
Governor Shonai snapped, 'When I ask a question I expert an answer.'
'This riot certainly wasn't the worst yet, ma'am,' said the newest member of her advisory staff. 'His name was Morten Bauer and his thin face was earnest and full of youthful exuberance. Shonai felt a stab of maternal protectiveness towards the young man and wondered if he even realised that he had joined a staff on the brink of collapse.
'Give me numbers, Morten. How many dead?' asked Shonai. Bauer consulted his data slate. 'It's too early for firm numbers, ma'am, but it looks like over three hundred dead and perhaps twice that wounded. I'm just getting some figures in from the Arbites and it seems that two judges were killed as well.'
'That's not as bad as at Altemaxa,' pointed out an older man whose body had patently seen better days. 'The judges there lost an entire squad trying to hold the rioters.'
The speaker's name was Miklas Iacovone and he managed the governor's public relations. It had been his idea to address the Workers' Collective, and he was desperately attempting to put a favourable spin on today's events. Even as the words left his thick lips, he knew they were a mistake.
'Miklas, you are a fool if you think that we can come out of this smelling of roses by criticising another city's law enforcement officers,' snapped Almerz Chanda. 'We don't do negative campaigning.'
'I'm only trying to emphasise the upside,' protested Iacovone.
'There is no "upside" to this, Miklas. Get used to it,' said Chanda.
Governor Shonai laced her fingers together and sat back in her chair. Personally she felt Iacovone's idea had merit, though did not wish to contradict her chief advisor in public. She addressed the fourth man in her advisory staff, Leland Corteo.
'Leland, how badly will this affect us in the senate? Truthfully?'
The governor's political analyst let out a sigh and pulled at his long, grey beard. He removed a tobacco pipe from his embroidered waistcoat and raised his bushy eyebrows. Shonai nodded and Corteo lit the pipe with a pewter lighter before answering.
'Well, governor, the way I perceive it,' he began, taking a long, thoughtful draw on his pipe. 'If events continue in this way, it is only a matter of time until the other cartels call for a vote of no confidence.'
'They wouldn't dare,' said Morten Bauer. 'Who would propose such a motion?'
'Don't be foolish, dear boy. Take your pick: Taloun, de Valtos, Honan. Any one of them has a large enough base of support to survive a backlash even if the motion fails.'
'We're barely hanging on as it is,' agreed Miklas Iacovone. 'Our majority is only held together with promises of co-operation and trade agreements we've made to the smaller cartels. But we have to assume the big guns are lobbying them to renege on their agreements.'
'Spineless cowards!' spat Bauer.
'Opportunists, more like,' said Corteo. 'Who can blame them after all? We did the same thing ten years ago when we aligned ourselves with the Vergen and ousted the Taloun.'
'That was completely different,' said Bauer defensively.
'Oh come on now, boy. It's exactly the same. It's politics: the names may change, but the game remains the same.'
'Game?' spluttered Bauer.
'Gentlemen,' interrupted Chanda, before the smirking Corteo could reply. 'These petty arguments are getting us nowhere. The governor needs solutions.'
Suitably chastened, her advisors lapsed into an embarrassed silence.
Governor Shonai leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and steepling her fingers before her.
'So what can we do? I can't buy any more support from the smaller cartels. Most of them are already in the pocket of de Valtos or Taloun, and Honan will simply follow their lead. Our coffers are almost dry just keeping the wolves at bay.'
Corteo blew a blue cloud of smoke from his pipe and said, 'Then I fear we have to acknowledge that our time in office may soon be at a premature end.'
'I'm not prepared to accept that, Leland,' said Shonai.
'With all due respect, ma'am, your acceptance or otherwise is irrelevant,' pointed out Corteo. 'You pay me to tell you the truth. I did the same for your father and if you wish me to pretty up the facts like fat Miklas here, I can do that, but I do not believe that is why you have kept me around all these years.'
Shonai smiled, waving the outraged Iacovone to silence, and said, 'You're correct of course, Leland, but I still don't accept that there's nothing we can do.'
She pushed the chair back and rose to her feet. She did her best thinking while she was pacing and began a slow circuit of the room, pausing by the bust of old Forlanus. She patted the marble head affectionately before facing her advisors.
'Very well, Leland. If we accept that a vote of "no confidence" is inevitable, how long do we realistically have until such a motion is tabled? And is there any way we can delay it?'
Corteo considered the question for a moment before replying.
'It does not matter if we delay such a motion,' he said finally. 'There is nothing we can do to prevent it, so we must be ready to face it on our terms.'
'Yes, but how long do we have until then?' pressed Shonai.
'A month at best, but probably less,' estimated Corteo. 'But what we should be asking is what can we do to ensure we survive it when it comes.'
'Suggestions, gentlemen?' invited Almerz Chanda.
'We need to be seen to be restoring order,' suggested Morten Bauer.
'Yes,' agreed Iacovone enthusiastically, relieved to have been thrown a morsel he could sink his teeth into. 'We have to show that we are doing our best to catch these terrorist scum, this Church of Ancient Ways. I hear they bombed another forge hangar in Praxedes and killed a dozen workers. A terrible business.'
'We can promise to put a stop to the pirate activity of the alien raiders as well,' added Bauer.
Leland Corteo nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes, yes, well done, dear boy. That would allow us to potentially split our opposition. We could seek de Valtos's support on this issue. He has more reason to hate the eldar scum than anyone.'
Shonai paced around the room, her brain whirling with possibilities. Kasimir de Valtos probably would support any action that would see him revenged on the aliens who had captured and tortured him many years ago, but could he be trusted? His organisation was a serious contender for the position of Cartel Prime and Shonai knew that de Valtos had even used his war injury kudos to foster popular support amongst the workers.
She followed the logic of Bauer's proposal. The Taloun would no doubt see any overtures made to de Valtos as an attempt to divide her political opponents. He would probably try to sway de Valtos with similar promises, offering his own ships to hunt down the eldar.
If the Taloun's ships succeeded in wiping out the eldar pirates, well that was fine too. Their elimination would allow the tithe shipments to get through to the Administratum, allowing her to ease the pressure on her people and thus weather the coming months.
Shonai returned to her desk and sat down again. She turned to Chanda and said, 'It might be opportune to arrange a meeting with de Valtos. I'm sure he will be happy to hear of our determination to destroy the foul eldar pirates.'
Almerz Chanda bowed and said, 'I shall despatch an emissary immediately.'
Chanda withdrew from the room as the governor addressed her advisors.
'We need to stay on top of this situation, my friends. Today's unfortunate events have proven that we need to be more careful in how we are perceived,' said My
kola Shonai, pointedly staring at Miklas Iacovone. 'We lost face today, but not so much that we can't repair the damage. We can always shift the blame to heavy handed crowd control if need be.'
'I'll get right on it, ma'am,' promised Iacovone, eager to earn back his favour.
'Very well, Miklas. Let today be a lesson learned.'
Leland Corteo coughed, shaking his head as he removed fresh tobacco from a pouch at his waist.
'You disagree, Leland?' asked Shonai.
'Frankly, yes, ma'am. Loath as I am to agree with such a hidebound bureaucrat, I am afraid I concur with Mister Chanda regarding criticism of our law enforcement officials,' said Leland Corteo, filling his pipe with fresh tobacco. 'I believe shifting blame to the Adeptus Arbites would be a mistake. They will not take such allegations lightly.'
Further discussion on the matter was prevented by the return of Almerz Chanda, who marched straight to the governor's desk clutching a data slate. He offered it to Mykola Shonai, his face pale and drawn.
'This just came in from the Chamber of Voices,' whispered Chanda.
'What is it?' asked Shonai, reading the worry in Chanda's voice. 'The Chamber of Voices was the name given to the psychically attuned chamber where the palace astrotelepaths sent and received messages from off-world. In an empire of galactic scale, telepathy was the only feasible method of communication and, normally, such messages were relatively mundane.'
Chanda's manner told Shonai that this was far from mundane.
'I don't know, it was encrypted by the quill servitors and requires your personal gene-key to unlock. It has an omicron level Administratum seal.'
Shonai took the slate and warily held her thumb over the identifier notch. Whatever this slate contained could not be good. She was savvy enough to realise that when the Administratum took an interest in a world as troubled as hers, it meant trouble for those responsible. And on Pavonis, that meant her.
She slid her thumb into the slate, wincing as the sample needle stabbed out and drew her blood. A collection of lights flashed on the side of the slate as the spirit within the machinery checked her genetic code against that stored in its cogitator.
The slate clicked and hummed, chattering as it printed a flimsy sheet of parchment from the scriptum at its base. Shonai ripped the message off and placed the slate on her desk.
She slipped on a delicate set of eyeglasses and read the message. As her eyes travelled further down the message, her face felt hot and her chest tightened. She reached the end of the message, feeling a heavy, queasy sensation settle in her stomach.
She handed the parchment to Chanda who swiftly scanned the message before placing it carefully back before the governor.
'Perhaps it will not be as bad as you fear, ma'am,' said Chanda hopefully.
'You know better than that, Almerz.'
Corteo leaned forward, his pipe jammed between his lips. 'Might I enquire as to the content of this message?' he asked.
Mykola Shonai nodded and said, 'Of course, Leland. It seems we are soon to receive an envoy - an adept from the Administratum who will be reviewing our failure to meet Imperial tithes and maintain the Emperor's peace. We may not need to try and keep the cartels from impeaching us before our time. The Administratum will do it for them.'
She could tell from the worried faces around the room that they all realised the significance of this adept's imminent arrival.
'That wretch Ballion must have sent word to the Imperium,' hissed Iacovone.
'No doubt at the behest of the Taloun,' cursed Leland Corteo.
Governor Shonai sighed. She had asked for more time from the Administratum's representative on Pavonis, but couldn't really blame the man, even if the Taloun had pressured him into it.
'Can this adept simply remove you from office without due process?' asked Morten Bauer.
'He comes with the highest authority,' answered Chanda solemnly.
Governor Shonai picked up the parchment once again and reread the last few lines.
'But more importantly, Almerz, he comes with the Angels of Death. He comes with the Space Marines.'
FOUR
The Ultramarines strike cruiser Vae Viclus slipped rapidly through the darkness of space, wan starlight reflecting from her battle scarred hull. She was an elongated, gothic space-borne leviathan with protruding warp vanes. The antenna atop the arched cathedral spire of the command deck rose from her centre and grew towards the powerful plasma drives at her rear.
To either side of the angular prow and bombardment cannon lay the crenellated entrances to her launch bays from where Thunderhawk gunships and boarding torpedoes could sally forth. Her entire length bristled with gargoyle-wreathed weapon batteries and conventional torpedo launch bays.
The Vae Victus was old. Constructed in the shipyards of Calth almost three millennia ago, she displayed the trademark design flourishes of the Calthian shipbuilders in the ornamented gothic arches surrounding her launch bays and the flying buttresses of her engine housings.
In her long life, the strike cruiser had crossed the galaxy several times over and had fought unnumbered battles against foes both human and alien. She had grappled with the tyranids at the Battle of Macragge, destroyed the command barge of the renegade flag-captain Ghenas Malkorgh, delivered the killing blow to the ork hulk, Captor of Vice arid, more recently, destroyed the orbital defences of Thracia in the Appolyon Crusade.
Her hull proudly bore the scars of each encounter. The artificers of the Ultramarines had reverently repaired every wound, rendering the honour of her victories unto the vast spirit that dwelt within the beating mechanical heart of the starship.
The command bridge of the Vae Victus was a wide, candlelit chamber with a vaulted ceiling some fifteen metres high. Humming banks of glowing holo displays and ancient, runic screens lined the cloisters either side of the raised command nave, a shaven headed half-human, cyborg-servitor hard wired into each of the ship's regulatory systems. A broad observation bay dominated the front of the chamber, currently displaying a view of empty space before the ship. Smaller screens in the corners of the bay displayed the current course and speed of the ship along with all local objects picked up by the ship's surveyors.
The wide nave was bisected at its rear by an arched transept with ordnance and surveyor stations located to either side. Space Marine deck officers wearing plain hessian robes over their armour also monitored each station.
The recycled air was heavy with the fragrance of burning incense from censers swung by hooded priests and a barely audible choral chant drifted through the bridge from the raised sacristy and navigator's dome behind the captain's pulpit.
The commander of the Vae Victus stood atop his pulpit and fixed his hoary eyes on the lectern beside him. Tactical plots for the Vae Victus and Pavonis were displayed next to the chrono-display showing their projected course.
Lord Admiral Lazlo Tiberius cast his heavy lidded eyes around the bridge, searching for anything out of place, but satisfied that all was as it should be.
Tiberius was a giant, dark skinned Space Marine of nearly four hundred years who had fought in space almost his entire life. His fearsomely scarred face was the result of a close encounter with a tyranid bio-ship that had smashed into the Vae Victus's command bridge during the early stages of the Battle of Circe. His skull was hairless and his skin the texture of worn leather. The moulded breastplate of his blue armour was adorned with bronze clusters of badges of honour, the gold sunburst of a Hero of Macragge at its centre.
Lord Admiral Tiberius stood with his hands clasped behind his back and studied the tactical plot with a critical eye, calculating how long it would take the Vae Victus to achieve orbit around Pavonis. He glanced at the corner of the screen and was satisfied to note that his estimate almost perfectly matched up with the logic engine's prediction.
He felt his estimate was the more realistic of the two, however.
Before him, robed crewmen worked over their extensive sensor runes, sweeping space be
fore them with all manner of surveyors and augury devices. Tiberius knew that the captain of a starship was only as good as the crew he commanded. All the tactical acumen in the galaxy would count for nothing if he were given inaccurate information or his orders were not obeyed quickly and without question below decks.
And Tiberius knew he had one of the best crews in the Ultramar fleet. Proved time and again in the heat of battle, they had always performed exactly as commanded. The Vae Victus had been through some desperate battles, but her crew had always acquitted themselves with honour. This was in part due to Tiberius demanding that the highest possible standards be constantly maintained by every crewman upon his ship, from the lowliest deck hand to himself and his command staff. But it was also a reflection of the dedication and loyalty amongst the servants of the Ultramarines who provided the majority of the vessel's crew.
Once again they were entering harm's way and Tiberius felt the familiar exultation that they would soon be bringing the Emperor's fiery sword of retribution to His enemies. It had been a long time since the Vae Victus had tasted battle against the eldar and though he hated their alien ways with a zealot's passion, he was forced to admit that he had a grudging respect for their mastery of hit-and-run tactics.
Tiberius knew the devious eldar would rarely engage in a ship-to-ship fight under any but the most favourable terms since their ships were absurdly fragile and did not have the divine protection of void shields. They relied on stealth and cunning to close with their target, then blasphemous alien magicks to confound the targeting cogitators of their foes' weapons. Tiberius knew that often the first warning of such an attack was the impact of prow lances that disabled a ship's manoeuvring thrusters. After that it was academic who had the biggest guns: the eldar ship would run rings around its more ponderous opponent, taking it apart piece by piece.
Tiberius vowed that such a fate would not befall his ship.
In the darkness of space, six hours ahead of the Vae Victus, an elegantly deadly craft slipped from the shadows of its asteroid base. Its segmented prow tapered to a needle point and jagged, scimitar-like solar sails gracefully unfurled, soaring from the cunningly wrought engines at its rear. Joining the engines and prow was a slender, domed command section, and it was from here that the captain of this lethal craft ruled his ship.
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