On his Imperial Majesty's Secret Service Chapter 1
I am shamelessly using the Brighthammer 40k spin off / parody universe. Horrid Dystopias get difficult to write after a while; I hope you enjoy reading this romp as much as I did writing it!
And while I'm using the same characters, some of whom you haven't met yet in the "real" universe, you might find them a little different…
His Imperial Majesty, the Glorious Emperor of Mankind, has ruled for 10,000 years from the Golden Throne on Earth, bringing peace, enlightenment, and joy to all mankind and those others who wish to share the stars with us in universal brotherhood.
He Walks among Us, protecting our Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of Happiness.
His Space Marines Serve Us.
His Imperial Guard Defend Us.
His Adeptus Terra Provides for Us.
His Noble Son, Horus, Intercedes for Us.
The Emperor of Mankind has ruled for 10,000 years, and there is clearly no better time to be alive.
In the Hopeful Light of the Far Future, there is only HIGH ADVENTURE!
999.M41, Cadia, Segmentum Obscuras, Office of the Governor-Representant
Imperial Agent Alera Jumil looked around her, detailing and cataloguing everything that caught her eye to her memory.
The room was clean, crisp, efficient. The secretary who had ushered them in was friendly and professional, wearing the standard grey uniform of the Administratum in a most becoming way. She had nearly smirked when she caught him glancing up and down her body. She wasn't wearing anything that would be considered remotely revealing on Earth, but here out in the colonies fashions were often a bit more conservative.
"The Governor-Representant will see you soon," the secretary had said. "Please, relax or prepare as you wish."
She'd cast her practiced eye over everything. It was a well appointed office complex, with tasteful furnishings and a lovely transparent plasteel window out to the cityscape below. It was twilight now, and as the planet's star began to dip below the horizon, little specks of light began to flicker on the streets below, as the traffic began to adjust to night conditions.
She looked out at it for a long time. She wondered what the people of Cadia were doing down there, in the middle of the flickering lights.
Alera heard a soft gasp of delight beside her, and smiled. The companion shrouded in robes emblazoned with the symbol of a stylized cogwheel and book standing next her was such a romantic that way.
And to be fair, when you saw the vista from the top of the governor's tower, anyone could be forgiven for being a little romantic about it.
A polite cough sounded from behind her.
"The Governor-Representant will see you now," the secretary said.
As Alera turned around, she noticed her companion was still panning her eyes across the cityscape.
"Coming, Ally?" she asked, raising a brow.
"In a second," the robed figure said, her voice melodious and sweet. "I'm recording this." She waited a few seconds more, as a loud clicking emanated from her body. Then it stopped. "Done," she said, turning to face her mistress.
The Agent smiled slightly more as the secretary, non-plussed, led them to the Governor's office.
Governor-Representant Amabo Karab was a busy man, but clearly was a busy man on a mission.
His office was filled with data slates, all piled in neat stacks on his desk. As the Agent and her companion entered the room, he stood up from his desk and came around to shake their hands, offering them seats at comfortable chairs in front of his desk. As Alera and Ally sat down, he returned to his seat and waited for them.
"Welcome, Agent Jumil, Magos Terenas," he said. "I'm glad my communiqué got through so quickly. How was your journey? Not too rough, I hope?"
Alera smiled and nodded. "Well, you know how it is," she said. "The Department of Navigation released a warning that Warp Storms might delay travel for up to a day or two while they plotted new routes, but otherwise it's been just fine." She fished in her pocket for a data slate and took it out, followed closely by a pair of glasses. She put the eyewear at the end of her nose, adjusting it slightly, and then glancing at the slate. "The communication you sent relies, I believe, on the financial data you've been providing the Adeptus Terra?"
"Yes," the Governor-Representant replied, nodding his head. "Since the last election, my government has been trying to shore up a big dip in Cadia's economy, and as a result I've had to make a lot of unpopular decisions. I wouldn't normally trouble the Adeptus Terra for such matters, especially since it wouldn't interfere on my side anyway, but I wanted some advice on whether it was legal for some of the groups I've… described… to organize and protest in such a manner I've described."
The Imperial agent continued to peer through her glasses at the scrolling data on her slate. "Well," she said, as she continued to read, "most of the stuff here is perfectly reasonable. Clearly protestors have the right to assemble and seek redress from the Emperor; we all know the Emperor stopped charging anyone with lese majeste or sedition just on the basis of protesting his or his representatives' policies since the Thorian reformation three thousand years ago; and no offence, but calling you names is unfortunately the free right of any Imperial citizen."
Kurab grimaced. "Yes, and so my attorney general tells me. And they keep saying I was born on an Ork planet, too. It's just par for the course for politics on Cadia. I was wondering, though, if they have the right not to pay legally imposed taxes or if you were allowed to act in the way they're doing…" He paused for a second. "That one's baffled all my government's ministers and lawyers."
Ally spoke up. "You mean, the 'Church of the Gods of Freedom?' The ones claiming tax free status?"
Alera raised a brow, turning to her . "You mean to say they're not just Churches of the Grand Princes of Order? As far as I remember reading about it on your file they all worship the same beings... You know, Nurgle, Tzeentch, Khorne, Slaanesh…" She turned back to the Governor-Representant. "Easy. They're religious organizations, and can offset their income taxes to moneys they spend on charity work."
Kurab shifted uneasily. "That's not quite it, Ms Jumil."
Ally coughed, to gain their attention. "He's right, Alera," she said. "It's probably a bit hard to work out because you're not educated in the mysteries the way, say, I might be, but they're not the same churches as those of the 'Gods of Order.'"
At the Agent's blank stare, the Magos pursed her lips in thought as she tried to parse her meaning correctly. "It's like the great schism debate in the Adeptus Mechanicus on the nature of the Omnissiah. The old church thought all knowledge exists and had to be found; the modern church moved on and accepted that developing new knowledge was surely a part of the Quest for Knowledge as well. We all solved that at the Council of Olympus Mons and reconciled the church, but these rifts happen in religion all the time. These… new cults worshipping the Grand Princes of Order may worship the same beings, but not be the same church." The Magos paused for the thought to sink in. "Which would mean, clearly, that they're not religious organizations for tax purposes until they claim it from the Adeptus Terra. Which they haven't."
The Governor-Representant spoke up. "I had a chat with Minister-master Horus through an astropath, and he's never seen or heard of their head priests before, let alone had one come to him to speak to one the Grand Princes through him. He checked with his brother Princes of Order and none of them know them either."
"How can I help you with that?" Alera asked, bemused. "I'm an auditor, not a doctor of theology!"
"You see, I think they're a fraud," Amabo Karab said. "They've been criticizing my government, and they've been telling citizens to give their money to them, so it can't be taxed, and using it to tell even more citizens to give them money! Only the Emperor knows where the hell they put it or what they use it for! They're literally starving Cadia's coffers, and there is no way I can get the planet out of recession if I don't have the funds to do it with."
The Governor's hands gestured more emphatically now. "I'm on shaky legal ground if they're genuine churches, and the way they've been cultivating public support, I can't possibly start a native Cadian investigation without bringing my government down. In short, only an agent of the Adeptus Terra can tell my planet that they're being short changed to help a bunch of two bit fraudsters." He leaned forward and smiled wanly. "And that's why I sent for the best auditor in the Adeptus Terra that I know."
Alera smiled, her brilliant smile complimenting her snow white hair most becomingly.
"Tax Fraud, huh? Now Tax Fraud; that I can do."
Imperial Flight Captain Garen Danar took off his shoes, nodded in greeting to the deacon merrily sweeping the floor of the lobby he was in, and took a deep breath. He personally found the shrines of the Grand Princes of Order somewhat disturbing, but no one who had been brought up in the rationalist school of thought that defined the Emperor's realm could feel anything but a slight unease in that which could not be explained.
He walked through the passageway leading out of the lobby, and found himself in the throne room of Khorne.
The room was large, vaulted gothic architecture that inspired a grandeur and awe in all who saw it. There were pews, rows upon rows that stretched out into the distance, and at the front, the awe-inspiring image of Khorne the Magnificent, the Bringer of Glory and the Avatar of Valour.
The statue was carved out of marble, almost reaching the ceiling many metres above him, of a man in a great suit of armour, sitting at ease on a throne resting on the relics of a thousand great battles. In one hand was a mighty sword, its marble representation almost ten metres tall. From the pews came the soft chantings of a thousand worshippers, finding courage in the image of the great warrior; Courage for Valour; Prizes for his throne.
Garen could feel himself stand ever so slightly taller even as he heard it. He quickly shook his head, though, as if to clear it, and scanned the crowd for his target, with the characteristic little mop of hair…
Raelin Clarinel broke into a happy grin when she saw someone she hadn't seen in a long time standing at the sacristy door.
"Garen!" she said, her voice not quite breaching the decorous hum in the great throne room beyond. In a swirl of robes, the Priestess of Khorne took the surprised pilot in her arms and swung him around, setting him down as if he didn't weigh anything to her. She crushed Garen into her chest in a bear hug for a good few seconds, then moved him back so she could look him over.
She let go of him and prodded him in the chest with a finger, chiding him gently. "You haven't visited me in months, Mister hot shot Pilot," she smiled, as he began to flinch at the poking. "I was beginning to think that you'd found some other girl; you know, one in another port, hmmmmm?" She kissed him gently on the lips in greeting, exulting in the little spark that jumped in her heart even after all these years. "Or maybe one of those gorgeous colleagues you spend all your time working with. The Imperial Agent and the Magos."
Garen smirked, and wrapped his arms around her. "You know how Ms Jumil and Ms Terenas are; all married to their jobs and mooning over dashing Explorators." He tried to turn the tables. "And how about you, Ray, being propositioned by all those Slaaneshi priests and priestesses?"
Raelin raised an eyebrow. "And what part of you wouldn't mind at all if I accepted a proposition from a priestess of Slaanesh?"
The two of them clung to each other for awhile, feeling their bodies against each other, away from prying eyes. Not that others would mind that much, for the courage to show your feelings in a church of the God of Courage was the kind of passion that Khorne could appreciate. Not like that tired old man, Nurgle, all propriety and gentleness, or the inconstant fickleness of Slaanesh.
"Hmm… on that note, how about after vespers I take you out tonight; dinner and a walk under the Eye of Harmony, and forget for a little bit just how rarely I get to spend time with you?"
Raelin made a show of considering it for a moment.
"Lord Khorne give me courage," she said. "My husband is being romantic." She kissed him lightly on the lips again.
She whispered in his ear with all the promise she could imply in a church.
"Yes."
A slight commotion from beyond the sacristy door interrupted their reunion.
Hearing surprised shouts and cries of concern, the Priestess of Khorne put her husband down and raced out into the nave of the shrine.
The constant, gentle refrain of the prayer of the God of Valour had died down, as a poor woman in the robes of the Adeptas Sororitas lay on the path between pews, in paroxysms of rapture. Her eyes were open, an eerie blue light radiating from them as she thrashed about. A few priestesses and priests of Khorne were clearing away a space for her so the woman wouldn't injure herself or others.
One of the priests moved toward Raelin. "Sister Superior Clarinel," he said, motioning to the woman still writhing on the ground. "She's having a vision, but she demanded she see you."
It happened, every now and then; occasionally, a warrior or a person seeking the conviction of the God of Valour was blessed with his visions; of duty and honour and the glorious prizes of strength and courage.
This woman though…
"Why are you crying?" Raelin asked, puzzled, as she kneeled down to take the woman's face in her hands. Khorne abhorred the weak. Why would he grace someone to show such inconstancy?
A single tear rolled down the woman's cheek as she continued to see things that no one else could. She said nothing.
"What is your name, pray tell?" Raelin asked.
"Lena," the sister sobbed suddenly, as if she fought against the nightmares happening in her mind. "Lena Fyrovski." She suddenly looked at Raelin, and her eyes grew wide, in terror.
"The Four!" she cried. "The Four.. fallen! Fallen!"
"The Gods of Order?"
"CHAOS!" she cried, and her voice went higher, almost to a shriek. "CHAOS Gods, corruptors of Horus, killer of the Emperor, bringers of darkness… the blood, the blood… They COME! They COME to BRING THEM!"
"Bring whom where?" The Sister Superior asked.
"The Four, the same, the same but not… cruel they are, without restraints, from a world of ours but not the same… the same, but not the same…" Lena's eyes suddenly focused, lucid. "Our Khorne warned us of his brother, his brother Khorne, him but not him, a brutal tyrant who has no honour, come to remake our world as theirs for sport…"
Raelin turned to the nearest priest. "Get the Medicae. She's having a bad reaction to a gift from Khorne."
"KHORNE!" Lena suddenly shouted, an almost feral noise. "KHORNE! KILL! MAIM! BURN! KILL! MAIM! BURN! WHAT WEAKNESS IS THIS 'GOD OF VALOUR' IN YOUR PITIFUL EXISTENCE? WHAT RIGHT HAVE HE TO TAKE MY NAME???? KHORNE! DEATH! MURDER! MURDER DEATH KILL! MURDER DEATH KILL! MURDER DEATH KILL!"
And then, the general hubbub of concern for the poor woman was shocked to utter silence by the blasphemy that came from Lena Fyrovski's mouth.
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE THRONE OF KHORNE!"
Garen Danar reached for his communicator.
That sort of language never boded well.
TBC