The day after the news reached, via scorching out the throat of one astropath and the rupturing of another's teeth - which burst into writhing flies and maggots as their hand wrote the parchment-missive - the decision was made immediately above the cloud layer. There was only one thing that could be done in the face of planetary, nay, sector wide reprieve from a fate worse than death.
Throw a party.
House Zav, the first among equals of the noble houses of three noble houses that ruled above the clouds on Thedias Prime, was the one to put forward the idea. The current head of House Zav, Korask Rute-Pierre von Zav XII, gave a great long winding speech while surrounded by servants, and bequeathed to the noble and honorable champions of the Emperor that the next two weeks would be given over to feasting and feting the glorious warriors of the divine Imperial Majesty who had seen so fit to sacrifice their number so the countless billions of the sector could be saved. In his largess, he further added that each work cycle would be given
two ten minute work breaks where one might take their leisure performing administrative tasks, rather than menial ones. With such largess, the head of House Zav hoped that the people of Thedias Prime would think well on him.
Not the miners, of course.
He hadn't even thought of them once, no, he was mostly interested in the other nobles thinking he was fair minded and generous.
The other houses, not willing to be outpaced, threw equally lavish parties. Picts were distributed among the cloud habitats: Garlands of specially bred oxybreathing flowers spreading around the shoulders of a tall, taciturn looking black armored angel of the Emperor, surrounded by glittering, brightly dressed women and men who were eagerly speaking to one another around them. Their face, their features, could have been carved entirely from stone.
The only real problem was that while House Zav did manage to meet, mingle, share information and grow in stature...so did House Pierre. And House Mark. All three of them threw around barbed words and whispered secrets, all of them became better able to shape their public face, and all of them were equally elevated. And thus...
None of them were.
It was infuriating for Korask.
Deeply. Deeply infuriating.
***
"Finally! Fucking
finally."
The voice that echoed inside of the Arbites watchfortress STIGIA-2 was female, grizzled, and faintly augmetic. Sur Laloine glowered down at hte piles of papers and data slates that her baton twirling auxilaries had brought her. Being one of the scant hundred true Arbites on the planetary surface of a penal colony was...not entirely the cakewalk that some of the more heavily populated planets imagined. Yes, she didn't need to juggle the complexity of a hive planet's polities - this world had a scant two billion souls, it could hardly be compared. But she also lacked the same infrastructure that a Judge on one of those worlds would have. The Arbites were not beat cops, they did not walk from street to street save on the most precious worlds of the Imperium, where resources were plentiful and Schola Progenium cadets were overflowing from the walls of their cadres, eager to get out their and bust heads.
No.
Arbites were administrators. They collected. They collated. They understood. They directed the beat cops were to go. And here, the beat cops were the ugly scum that the noble houses chose to post down below the cloudlayer, rather than the pretty scum they kept among their houses as bodyguards and pets. And the beat cops had finally dropped off their fucking reports.
Sur scowled and picked up a slate, skimming through the reports. Between the lassitude and the obvious bribes -
really, Janko, nothing to report on Murder Alley, the alley named for how many dead bodies we keep finding there? - there was a clear sign that the forces on the street, the three major gangs, were all gearing up for one of their semi-yearly throwdowns. Two years ago, nearly six thousand people had been shot in a three week period in a running gang war that had eaten half of Stygia and a quarter of the Pits, and that had been the end of the Jeznakz and the beginning of the reign of the Skavz gang.
Right now, according to her reports, the Skavz had the best guns and best training - well, in so far as gangers did - but there had been a few stashes caught with Orbtz colors painted on them. And if her gaggle of halfwit beat cops had found this many Orbtz ganger markings then there had to be dozens, maybe hundreds of arms shipments that they had missed.
"They're all gearing up..." She frowned. "But they should be
showing it."
"Curious, isn't it."
The voice jerked Sur around.
Lounging in the seat in the back of the watch fortress...
Was
her.
"You," Sur said, her voice bitter and cold.
The woman sitting in the chair was quite possibly the most beautiful woman to have ever set foot on Thedias Prime. No scars, no blemish, not even the signs of augmetics or implants. Her nearly unnaturally perfect cheeks were smooth and porcelain white, and her freckles were like stars against her pale skin. Her eyes were Cadian purple, and her hair was red. She wore a purple cloak, with the hood thrown back, and was slowly swinging the inquisitorial Rosarius that she had flashed to Sur, months before, on a chain. Her voice was sardonic as she said. "Yes, me."
"You still haven't given me your name, Interrogator," Sur said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Mmm. Quite," the interrogator said, licking her lips subtly. "Now, the guns."
"Yes, the guns," Sur said. "The gangs are all trying to get more weaponry. But they should be
showing the weaponry. Flaunting it. Demonstrating it. Strutting around with shotscreamers and boreguns - but instead, all we're finding is the traffic scraps. This smells wrong." She frowned. "It has something to do with that tip you gave, a month ago?"
"It may," the interrogator said, then stood. "Did you know the rate of guns on the open market in Thedias Prime has been dropping steadily for the past four months? That there are caches and storerooms that the Inquisition has found-"
"Found and not reported to the Law, I notice," Sur muttered.
"-and yet, who exactly has been stockpiling the guns, or why, has been remarkably elusive." The Interrogator hesitated. "The Hive Fleet has been destroyed. But the rot that precedes it has not."
"And that rot
is?" Sur asked, frowning. "I need to know if I am going to fight it."
"Do you?" The interrogator asked. "Curious, here, I was thinking that I, being the servant of his majesty's most sacred inquisition, and thus, not beholden to you or your chain of command, that were
I who might be able to determine what you do or do not need to know." She frowned, seriously. "I do not simply do this to yank your chain, Arbites. There are creatures that can rip secrets from a mind-"
"I've trained on psykers," Sur growled. "I can keep secrets."
"Not these kinds," the interrogator said, her eyes flashing as she looked into Sur's eyes.
Sur remained quiet. "So, if I cannot know who the enemy is, can I at least know what I am to do?"
The interrogator nodded. "Keep gathering information. Keep your eyes open. And..." She stepped close. Her voice was soft. "Do not allow any of your Arbites to fraternize with anyone, male or female. Chastity belts, chastisement, postponement of marriage vows, whatever it takes."
Sur frowned. "...ah..." she said. "One of
those."
The interrogator, to Sur's great, if muted, pleasure looked askance.
"Cult on Regil II, big in brainwashing during fucking," Sur said, shaking her head. "Had to burn down half the brothels to root it out."
"Ah," the interrogator said.
She turned and swept away - and between blinks, was gone.
Interrogator Shexia Af-Baru leaned back in the seat of her aircar as it skimmed through the cloudlayer, then up into the brightness above the hell-pits of Thedias. She relaxed the psychic shields that she had used to conceal herself from perception for just a moment, then lifted her vox to her chin, flicking it on. "Please, please, please tell me that the Marines have responded."
Short pause, then a hissing voice of her armsmaster, Lot. "Yessm."
"And?" Shexia asked, her voice showing every bit of weariness she had.
"Mmm, Deathwatch 's in."
"...and?" Shexia frowned.
"Marines sent back Vek with two broken knees, m'm."
Shexia pursed her lips and lowered her fox.
"...fucking Marines Malevolent," she said to an empty aircar. She glared at where her master would sit, as if the old crusty bastard was there and not five hundred lightyears away, likely putting his dick in a daemonhoast. Again. "This is your fault, somehow."
Her master deigned to respond. After all.
He was five hundred light years away.
Though, in his somewhat modest defense, even an inquisitor as radical as he had never
actually put his dick in a daemonhost, no matter how often Shexia muttered dark deprivations about it.
The aircar banked towards Trustworthy Compromise.
***
Four months ago.
In darkness...
In the secret...
There are places of repose. Places of rest. Places that, very carefully, some are chosen are gifted with the pleasure of the Kiss.
Ophelia was one such girl. She was hard working and tough minded, fair and even in her management of her small work gang. She paid off the Orbitz and she could maintain a family. And so, she writhed on her back in a pillowy casement, gasping as the gentle caresses of the beautiful male she had rented for the evening reached their climax along her body, finding places she hadn't known could relax, nor tighten, nor glisten so. She rolled her head back and gasped as she panted. The male - his curiously bright eyes glittering, the strange ridge on his brow adding a devilish cast to his feature - looked up from between her thighs and gave her a smile.
"Want to see something special?"
"H-He...Hell yeah..." she said, laughing raggedly. Her fingers ran through her hair. "I, uh...Emperor be damned, that's what I'm paying for, right?"
The man shrugged. "Not sure why you'd thank the Emperor. I'm doing all the hard work. So are you."
Ophelia didn't know it.
But this was the last of the tests.
She bit her lip as his fingers traced circles along her dark, muscular belly, tracing the lines of muscles, sweat beads clinging to his pale finger. His fingernail was...oddly sharp.
"I mean..." She shrugged. "What other choice do we got? He's on Earth. We're down here. Maybe he'll forgive us."
"What did you do that needs forgiveness?" The man asked. "Buy some food vouchers that were counterfeit? How were you supposed to know? They starve you on midlevel 32." He leaned in, his voice soft against her ear. "It's not fair. Is it?"
Ophelia bit her lip. "Not...really," she admitted. The tiny core of anger had been flicking in her for a while.
It was part of why the Sisterhood had taken note of her.
She bit her lip harder as his hand reached down and began to
do things to her body that made the whole world seem to make sense again. There is something wonderful about the human ability to find comfort, to find bliss, even in the bottom of Hell itself. With acid rain pounding against metal mere meters away, with the screaming, bone scouring wind hissing and rattling against the seal-sheets, with the work hour creeping closer inch by inch, Ophelia clung to the beautiful man's hand as he worked in her. On her. To her.
"F-Fuck the Emperor, give me more of that!" she said, laughing.
"Heh." The man smiled. "Do you want to see something special?"
Ophelia licked her lips. Slowly, she nodded.
When the creature emerged from the darkness and into the room, she felt a strange hazy glow settle onto her eyes. She knew she should be scared, but the man showed no fear. "I-Is...t-that a mutant?" she whispered, her eyes widening. "I...I hear these places have mutants, but..." The creatures claws reached up and over the bed, its lower arms grabbing onto the narrow walls of the sleeping niche. Warm drool, warm as long forgotten rain, dripped onto her belly and Ophelia whimpered in fear that did not quite manage to batter through the warm, warm haze of comfort that had been built in her mind.
"They're the future, and freedom, and joy all in one." The male whispered in her ear.
The creature leaned forward.
And his tongue plunged down Ophelia's throat, deep, deep down and she knew the name of the Star Children.
Now, four months later, and Ophelia stood on a small box before a collection of other followers of the Levithan. The Sisterhood had been...possibly poorly named. Most of the people surrounding her were a part of the cult, but they were all men, mostly from her work gang and the neighboring ones. Good, steady men who didn't waver, didn't flinch, and knew their duty. But they were all looking afraid. Ophelia knew why they were afraid - but she had an advantage over them. Something that she didn't think most of them had. Many of them were murderers. Some had done worse. They, on a certain level...knew they belonged here.
But Ophelia had been in the cult for months. She had listened to the sermons and played her part - not simply in the child that strained her belly now, but in the careful hording of weaponry and the quiet taking of notes and the preparation for overthrowing the whole rotten system that the cult wished to defeat. She had never seen the Child, but in her heart was a deep, fierce belief in not just the child, but the world that the Day of Ascension would have brought.
Freedom.
"My brothers!" she said, wincing slightly as shifting her weight caused her feet to ache. She smiled, her hand going to her belly. "As you can see, this speech has to be short, before junior forces me to sit down."
She had hoped that giving a little joke would help even things out. She heard chuckles, and one of the men called out. "Get Sister Ophelia a chair!" This provoked some cheers, but she waved them aside, which made more cheers burst out - and she could feel the weight lifting from them as she threw herself into the speech.
"My brothers! The Star Children...are not coming. But we are
not alone. The Imperium's yoke lays heavy on this world - but their battlefleet has been destroyed in the efforts to wipe our saviors out...and now, their hateful, vile inquisition seeks to hunt us. But what they do not know is that while they force others to serve with fear and lies, we serve because we believe! We hope! We
dream." She pointed. "You! Malthas, what were you going to do after Ascension Day?"
"I was going to write a book!" She had picked Malthas specifically - the old man, whose fingers were gnarled and knotted from the torture he had been put through for writing a book that had been decreed as seditious, was always a heartening sight, his fervor and his passion carrying him past his year.
"And you, Gideon, what were you going to do?"
"I...I was gonna take care of oprhans, make sure none ever have to, to..." Gideon paused, the big burly man wiping a tear from his eye. "I was gonna make good! F-For the people I kilt. I was gonna do it! I was!"
"Redemption! Freedom! Art! Culture!" Ophelia said, her voice fierce and echoing. "That's what we hoped for - but are we going to give up becuase things have gotten hard?"
"No!" The roar was immediate, echoing throughout the chamber, sealed off for this meeting.
"Are we going to lay down and die, because the Imperium needs a few more megatons of adamantine?"
"No!"
"Are we going to let those noble bastards throw their trash onto our heads anymore? Are we going to suffer for their amusement? Their hunts? Their prima nocta!?"
"
Nooooooo!"
The roar was nearly feral and Ophelia nodded. "Tell everyone in the cult that couldn't make it. Spread the word. Our biggest weakness now is to give into fear...fear is what the Imperium runs on. Fear and hatred. And cruelty. And lies. We will defeat them all by refusing to be afraid! By
refusing to be broken!" She lifted her fist. "For the Child!"
"For the Child!"
"For Levithan!"
"For Levithan!"
"For the future!"
"For the future!"
As the meeting broke apart, Ophelia did finally let herself sit. She felt the kicking and scrabbing of her baby and sighed, rubbing her belly - then started as a warm voice said.
"You give a good speech...Ophelia, right?" The bald woman was immediately recognizable to Ophelia, lack of the blessed voice or no. The connection, she missed like an ache. But she would live without it. She blushed and started to stand, but the Magus held up her hand, placing it on her shoulder, pushing her back down. "No, don't stand on my account."
"I..." Ophelia bit her lip. "Thank you, my lady."
"Please," the woman said. "Trilla. We're all as one under Levithan."
Ophelia smiled, a bit shyly.
"Can you give more of those speeches?" Trilla asked.
"I think I can," Ophelia said, nodding, then winced. "I may need help getting around. Junior is a
big boy."
"That he is!" Trilla said, chuckling, caressing her belly gently. Her voice was amused. "Anything else we can do to make it easier, sister?"
Ophelia bit her lip. She looked down, then around herself. None of the other members of the Sisterhood were near - and she was able to whisper. "Trilla...I just..." She gulped. "I worry. Sometimes. That I'm lying to them. About the future."
Trilla shook her head. "You never said it'd be
easy, did you?"
Ophelia supposed...that she hadn't.
---
The month is still up - you can take more actions or rest! However, I am introducing...a NEW RULE!
If you choose an option and then also write in a plan, a scheme, an idea that uses characters and concepts from within the fiction, you can earn...BONUSES! At minimum, having a plan will give you +1d, but the better and better the plan is, the bigger the bonuses!
They go Minor (+1d) -> Significant (+ED) -> Outstanding (+2d) -> Major (+MD) -> Spectacular (+3d) -> Epic Triumph! (+1d+MD) -> Mastermind Maneuver (+2d+MD)
Now, technically, rules as written, a bad plan can penalize you too, but I'm too nice and squishy to ever say a plan is bad. Well, I would tell you if a plan seems bad or unworkable, you may want to take the penalty to get the in universe plot outcome, I dunno!
[ ] Attack BLANK (Might + Treasure VS Might + Territory)
[ ] Being Informed (Influence + Soverignty vs Diff 1)
[ ] Spying on BLANK (Influence + Treasury vs Influence + Territory)
[ ] Influence BLANK to do BLANK (Influence + Treasury vs Influence + Territory)
[ ] Increase your Sovereignty (Territory + Treasure vs Diff [Current Sovereignty])
[ ] Police BLANK (Might + Sovereignty vs Influence + Might)
[ ] Rise in Stature (Sovereignty + Treasure vs Diff [Current Influence]
[ ] Train and Levy Troops (Sovereignty + Territory vs Diff [Current Might]
[ ] Unconventional Warfare (write plan in)
[ ] Wait and See
