AN: My apologies for the delays, final exams are closing in and I am sick half the time, both physically and sometimes with worry.
The rooms reserved for the the commander of the crusade onboard the Appropriate Vengeance were even more luxurious than Victoria's old home on the planet, although they were less extensive as space was always limited by some degree on a voidship. Yet there was no time to remain here, as an alarm on the data slate in her hands went off to inform her about a briefing in another room close to the bridge. Sighing, she turned around again and made her way through more busy corridors lined with guards.
The briefing room was separate from the actual bridge, another extravagance of the ship's design, as the command center would have been perfectly fine for any occasions of the type. But perhaps some details of what was to be said were not meant for the ears of the crew. It would make sense, given how strongly the Inquisition was currently present.
The room was still large, round with a diameter of about fifteen meters, and a large round table with plenty of comfortable looking chairs. A large screen on the western side was currently active, but showed only an imperial aquila.
The command staff for this operation was already gathered, and the looks Victoria got from the Lord Commissar and the power armored Inquisitor send shivers down her spine, no matter how hard she tried to be unfazed by their piercing glares. The other Inquisitor, Warwick, seemed a lot nicer, but Victoria would not thrust him further than she could throw the Appropriate Vengeance. Nice or not, he was still a member of the Ordo, and so he had to be a cold bastard underneath his handsome exterior.
The general in the Krieg uniform was someone she could not judge as of now, but he got plenty of points for being a member the military rather than any other imperial agency. Still, he might be working for someone. As long as this someone was the Emperor or the Lord Sector, it was fine but...
She forced herself to leave that train of thought for now, if only to to be able to focus on the next events. A robed figure stepped in, carrying several data slates. He bowed slightly in front of the high command. He then began to speak with no further introduction, in a cold voice devoid of any sort of emotion.
"Intelligence report for the worlds behind the so called "warpveil", version 41354, officially sanctioned by Lord Inquisitor Nilssin for use in the crusade to claim those worlds."
The screen came to proper life, showing a map of what Victoria assumed to actually be the region behind the veil. Only about twenty percent of the map was filled, the rest depicted nothing but a blank void. Of course this was to be expected as there was little time for reconnaissance since the veil had actually fallen, even though it would certainly pose a problem.
"Initial findings: The worlds close to the imperial side of the veil are populated mostly by splintered factions of chaos worshippers and orks, who are as of now busy fighting each other. It is not known how long those heretics control these worlds, so a thorough cleansing is recommended. First attempts to advance into the further regions has revealed at least one non-imperial human civilization. Peaceful means of absorption are currently investigated by Inquisitor Jaspin and several Rogue Trader houses. Caution is advised if such measures should fail. None of the factions discovered as of now have the strength necessary to pose a threat to the crusade."
The robed man stepped back, and all eyes turned on Victoria.
"When is the fleet ready to move out?", she asked, her own voice also quite cold, the only way to keep her growing fear hidden.
One of the few adjutants answered. "The core fleet will be ready within the day, some reinforcing elements are still on the way."
"The core fleet will be able to take down the outer parts of the target region." Victoria rose up, hoping that her posture was sufficiently confident. "Initiate the necessary steps. We will move out as soon as possible."
It was an order against all military common sense to rush only a part of your forces into enemy territory on such vague intelligence, but Victoria was the daughter of an Inquisitor. She knew that the Ordos rarely told the military all they knew, yet she was willing to bet that massive amounts of xenos or heretics were among those things the even the Inquisition would not try to hide. At if she had the fleet rush in like that, it would at least keep all potential accusations of cowardice at bay.
Only about two hours later, the engines of the Appropriate Vengeance rose from their semi-dormant state and howled their full fury into the void as the battleship began to move, taking its place in the center of the crusade fleet. The gellar field was checked the last time, and the reality in front of the ships was torn apart by the arcane might of their warp drives. The journey through the nightmare realm would probably take weeks, but these vessels were made to withstand even more. So the fleet moved out, millions of imperials more or less willing to do their duty. The price of this endeavor had already been steep in material, but its cost in blood had yet to be estimated.
Waking up the next morning was very, very uncomfortable. My head hurt from the amasec and it was past ten when Simon finally managed to wake me up. The way to the bathroom seemed to be a dangerous challenge, and after the hot water was let lose, leaving it was even worse. It was to be expected, bit that did nothing to make it easier. Actually, knowing how this was my fault made it was put of the question for now, I was in no shape to use anything with a blade.
A lot of cold water sobered me up a little, at least enough to get dressed properly. There was nothing for me to do this day, and that would mean I would think more about the latest events, which would probably make me drink even more. I had to do something else, something that did not involve amasec or anything similar. The best idea would be to just go for a walk. Perhaps.
The upper layers of the hive were quite suited for doing so, at least in the areas meant for such activities. A low powered force field kept the acid rain and the toxic gases away from the streets, and plenty of enforcers made sure people behaved somewhat well. Still, leaving your home in a city was nearly always a danger, and I was glad to have the protection of an armored uniform and my sidearm.
It had taken hours to get into the upper hive, and Peet had thought it to be impossible. But now he was here, walking through the streets of the rich, and vengeance was nearby.
Word in the lower parts of the massive city traveled swiftly, and after only a few hours, Peet had met people with the same burning rage and the same desire to avenge their loved ones and friends. And they had found someone willing to help them. Communication had been limited, only a crate had been dropped in a meeting place they were told about by some rather shady individual. But the contents of this crate were all they needed: Some money, an entry permit for the upper hive and a few simple weapons, as well as a list of those in the hive who had participated in the planning of this crusade.
A name, a way to get close and a gun were all someone needed to make sure the nobs up high would regret their mindless cruelty.
His companion was a woman easily twice his age, and he didn't even know her name. All he knew was that she had also lost someone close, perhaps a child, to the ruthlessness of the Lex Imperialis or the crusade's hunger for disposable cannon fodder. This also didn't matter. They were united in purpose, all else was irrelevant.
And it seemed the Emperor was smiling at them. The person they had been given a photo of, one of the planners behind the conception of the crusade, was just there, walking there past a small café, as if nothing had happened in the last few days. Peet nodded towards his ally, and his right hand closed around the old pistol he had received. He was not actually trained in using a gun, but caution played no part in his current state of mind and he was beyond such petty worries.
This was going to be a miserable day. It had started like this and it seemed determined to continue on this path. All I had wanted to do was to go for a walk to get my head clear. This part of the upper hive was nice enough, and the chance to get randomly shot pleasantly low.
And just as I walked past a small café, thinks went downhill properly. Two individuals were headed towards me, and both of them stuck out as they wore worker's clothes in on of the richest parts of the city. The way they looked at me combined with their hands clutched around something in their pockets was enough of a sign to get ready for trouble.
Fear dug its icy claws into me as reached for my own weapon. Two on one were not particularly good odds, and if I wanted to get through this, I had to be quick. The first of my attackers, an older woman with brown hair and eyes filled with unending hatred, was only able to draw her weapon halfway and froze as she stared into the barrel of my Hecuter. A good model, by the way,20 rounds able to pierce carapace armor at short range, and fairly accurate at that. The chances of a normal person in normal clothes against this kind of firepower were not exactly astonishing. This knowledge was what I held on to as adrenaline rushed through my veins and the training I had struggled to keep my fear under control.
But I was alone, and her comrade cared not much for her fate. Or at least not enough to prevent him from trying his next move. He was quite quick on the draw, but I only had to change targets. One shot was all he managed to get off, and it went wide as there was no time for him to aim. The sights aligned so easily, and I squeezed the trigger. Four times in row. The bullets did as they were supposed to, tearing through his clothes and flesh like paper. I was no marksman, but this was not too difficult. He fell, the wounds in his chest quite certainly fatal, his dying spasm sending a second round up into the sky, but again he was not alone, and as the man fell to the ground, his clothes turning red, he had taken up valuable time. His companion had drawn her gun and opened fire. The Emperor did indeed protect as she was clearly a terrible shot, the three rounds flying in my directions missed by a full meter at least.
I do admit that I panicked, so I flipped the switch to full auto and sprayed the rest of the magazine at her. Most of the rounds missed, but of the two that hit, one was a headshot. She too fell in spray of blood, bone and gore.
My gun clicked, the mag empty, and I dropped to my knees, although I was not injured. For a moment, my training tried to make me reload, but my shaking hands failed. I had never actually killed anyone, and I did not like this experience, not at all. The Hecuter clattered on the ground as people around screamed and bodyguards jumped forward to protect their charges. I barely realized my surroundings, breathing heavily as my brain tried to process what had just happened, and failed for the most part.
After the first shot was fired, it took about two minutes before the first enforcers arrived on the scene, the tires of their armored car screeching as they hit the breaks. Four men with autoguns and a heavy stubber moved in to secure the area, and three other patrol vehicles followed the first one. If I had worn the same kind of clothing as my attackers, they would probably have shot me. The Kayco Public Protection Enforcement Administration, as their organization was officially called, had a rather bad reputation as being corrupt, brutal and more or less just a uniformed goon squad for the hive nobility. It is a fairly accurate assessment, but as someone with the luck of being born into said nobility, I had little reason to complain. After taking one luck at me and the two dead bodies, the next sergeant and his patrol pretty much just picked me up and drove me home, not even bothering to ask why I had shot those two. Good thing too, in my current state, any kind of questioning might have driven me over the edge. One of them even gave me my gun back, seemingly unconcerned.
What if my action was wrong? What if the workers shooting at me had been the reaction to me aiming at them? Part of me told me that this was bullshit, and most of me wanted to believe that, but could I be certain? Or did I just murder to people for no reason save my paranoia, boosted by an amount of alcohol I was not used to?
The enforcers had no such thoughts, or they didn't care as long as I was of noble blood and my attackers were not. They stopped their vehicle in front of Ravencrown Manor and told me to go to bed, as if sleeping with those images in mind would do me any good. But they seemed well meaning and so I walked in, just making it to the couch before falling over again. Simon was at my side in the blink of an eye, and I buried my face in his fur, hoping fruitlessly to awake up from the nightmare of these last two days. There was no one I could call: Miranda and Richard were both on a fleet exercise near the border of the system, a last minute change of their schedules, Egon had been send on a patrol in the wastes surrounding the hive with a tank company, and Philippa had some sort of family trouble. Trying to contact any one of them would be fruitless, at least for now.
I did not just wake up from a very graphic nightmare, of course. That would be both nice and easy, and so the chances of something nice and easy happening where worse than those of a snowball in hell these days it seemed. About fifteen minutes after being dropped back home, I was staring at a bottle, wondering if getting wasted would make me feel better or worse. In the end, I was not willing to try it, and so I stayed on the couch, Simon next to me, and after a while, my eyes fell shut.
The dreams were bad. It was to be expected after the shootout, but I had still hoped to sleep without dreaming, or that Simon's soothing presence would make the images less terrifying, and perhaps it did. Still, it was everything but pretty. The feeling of resistance as I pulled the trigger, the recoil, that was the harmless part, something I knew from years of training. The roar of the shot was different, I took great care to wear hearing protection at the shooting range. And then there was the ugly part, the results of my doing. The man was bad enough, to see his body go stiff for a moment before it turned limb and fell, his clothes turning red, beginning in the area surrounding the four holes I had put in his chest and stomach. The other kill was an even worse picture, the bullet punching through her forehead, spraying bone, blood and brain in everywhere as significant parts of her skull were annihilated by the high powered cartridge. It was an image that would haunt me for a long time, of that I was certain.
Traveling the warp was surprisingly comfortable if you sat on the bridge of a battleship. There was some background noise from the crew doing their routine duties, but for the most part it was relatively quiet on the bridge. There also was a certain vibration in the entirety of the ancient vessel, but after a day most people on board were used to it, at least to the degree necessary to ignore it for the most part.
Victoria left the bridge after a few minutes, knowing that the veteran crew would not need her standing around while they handled the the journey through the immaterium. At least in her mind, a good commander had to know when to just let people do their job, and she did have certain ambitions to become one, especially since good commanders had a tendency of being successful and not being successful could mean the end of her life.
The captain of the Appropriate Vengeance was scared, old man named Titus Jerall, a veteran of nearly eighty years of service. Victoria had no doubts that the ship was in good hands and so she retired into her private quarters. The few reports deemed important enough to warrant the personal attention of the marshal had mainly told her how the initial plan to move into the newly discovered sector was going down without any major hickups.
There was not actually much to be done, as weird as that was. Nearly everything could be delegated to an underling with usually far more experience, and so doing so was less lazy and more competent behavior. A small part of Victoria's mind dared to hope for all her fears to be disproportional panic, but this was the easy part. After all, there was really nothing she could do to influence the warp routes or the ships using them, aside from maybe ordering the captains to take suicidal routes, and why would she do that?
Still, once this crusade would arrive back in realspace and the fighting began, things would certainly get a lot more difficult. Once battles started, she would have to make real decisions and then she would have the influence she most certainly had not wanted, at least not within this century. Many in the high command were obviously displeased by her being their superior, and she could see why. No one would want to be lead by someone fresh from the academy with no experience whatsoever. Yet as long as she was unable to leave this position, she had to fill it to the best of her abilities.
So she spend hours upon hours staring at the holomap of the region beyond the veil and studying all the reports she could get her hands on. It was not much to work with, and hopefully the Inquisition would make more Intel available soon. Only the border areas of the target regions had been investigated officially, and the picture shown was already not pretty. Ork tribes and various factions of heretics had entrenched themselves there and were supposedly busy fighting each other, with most of these factions only ruling a single system or less, and the largest one controlling four. However, these system were fairly isolated as the veil had prevented nearly all travel towards the galactic center, so these factions were probably among the weakest in the new regions, forced into the corners of this domain, their backs almost literally at the wall. Those who dwelled further away from the veil would probably be more powerful, and the utter lack of information regarding such heretics, xenos or other inhabitants was source of great concern for the young marshal.
The first few worlds had to be taken swiftly, before word of the crusade could spread. Then, these worlds would be fortified both to stop any attempted counterattack and to serve as supply bases closer to the front. Afterwards, the incursion would be continued deeper into the newfound territory. This was the general plan for now, if nothing unforeseen were to drastically change the operational circumstances. But as the old saying went, no plan survived the first enemy contact. The forms to request more reinforcements were already filled out for a dozen different vague threads, just in case.
Stopping to stare at the map for a moment, Victoria came to think about the people in her supposed command staff. The general, Arras, was a gruff, sometimes overly serious individual, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Inquisitor Charnley, as the power armored individual had been introduced, was a far more comfortable presence. A fanatic's fanatic, her eyes constantly burning with righteous rage and paranoia. She would probably be a problem in the future, and one that had to he handled with great care. Inquisitor Warwick was a textbook example of a slimy snake, charming from time to time but clearly poisonous on the inside. Being an easy going person and being part of the Holy Ordo really didn't go well together, and as Victoria knew more about the Inquisition than most people, she knew that it was almost certainly an act. Also, his charade was somewhat hampered by the fact that it was mostly based around the shock of an Inquisitor saying nice things, rather than those nice words being convincing on their own. But as long as she was careful enough and kept the full power of her rank, openly attacking her was something even an Inquisitor would probably not do, unless she gave them a good reason.
The Lord Commissar was a different problem. Just as much of a fanatic as Charnley, one minute of talking to him was enough to show that he was fitting most of the stereotypes the common soldiers had about their political officers. If this crusade went south, he would most likely be the first one to try to put a bolt round through her head. Victoria would do what she could to prevent that, yet if this would be the course of the future events, she would at least try to get him first.
Looking back up again, her focus broke for a moment, and it was swift to proof itself as a bad idea. She began to worry about Damien and her friends back home. Her younger brother was certainly worried sick, and she could only pray that he would not do something stupid. Her friends were probably slightly less affected, but the consequences might still be disastrous for them. She would feel the same if one of them was send to lead a fleet into an unknown area of space potentially filled with the most horrifying monsters in the galaxy would probably drive her completely insane.
And yet there was nothing she could do about it. She had looked for a way to weasel her way out of this position, and had not found when that worked without doing something that might be considered to be treason or desertion. The orders that had made her the commander of this fleet came from the imperial Segmentum Command, and they were not something anyone from the outside could appeal with massive support. An Inquisitor might be able to get her the support, but telling such fanatic about her desire to get home was not something she wanted to risk. It also smelled like a potential source of lead poisoning.
There was no denying it, the only way out was forward. If she made sure this crusade went exactly as planned, she would be able to go into early retirement or accept a voluntary demotion without much fuss. Or she might take the chances it would offered if she made it through this mess alive and sane. So it was time for more hope and prayer while there was still the time for both.
Victoria sighed and tried to focus on the map and the reports again.
Sleeping went somewhat better than expected in retrospect. The nightmares were there, but I had thought it to be even worse, becoming a victim of my own scared imagination, as silly as that might sound. Simon had seemingly not left my side, and so I woke up to the sound of purring. I kind of felt bad for worrying him as I rose up to get his food. He was a loyal cat, and it was certainly a trait I greatly valued. He deserved to be treated well. As always, he was a greedy eater, and I took the time to get some food for myself.
Still, the images didn't want to leave my head. After a while, I remembered that my weapon was still empty, and so I went through the mechanical motions of reloading, disassembling and reassembling the gun. The question of why remained, and I still had no idea about the answer. While I obviously was a member of the nobility and therefore not well liked among many of the poor inhabitants of the hive, I had never done anything to incite such an extraordinary dislike. And my attackers had passed through much of the upper hive without shooting the first noble they met, so I was no random target. What should I do now? I wanted to know why all of this happened, but I was rather scared about the affair. This was one of the moments in which it was sad that our house didn't have a private army and secret service nearby. Technically, we did have such assets, but they were not stationed on this planet, as our family was not from Kayco. Calling them here would take months, and all evidence would be long gone by then. If I wanted to find out anything, I would have to do it myself.
If course, this was not my best idea, considering both the risks and the fact that I was no detective. In spite of my concerns, I grapped my coat and left for the local enforcer station.
As so often in life, my inherited wealth opened doors, literally in this case. The enforcers were quite eager to help me, knowing that I might be able to pay substantial bribes if things went the way I wanted then too. This was certainly a possibility if they did good work, and on Kayco, it was not even technically illegal. Yet it might be a problem as I didn't want a faked report or unlawful arrest, but an actual investigation. It took some time to get to the right office, walking through the seemingly endless corridors and departments of the precinct.
Detective Inspector Hastings was the one responsible for my case, a man in his thirties with short brown hair who sent behind his typewriter smoking a lho stick. He even had the classic coat and fedora within reach.
"So, Lord Ravencrown, who to you think deserves to be punished for the heinous crime against your person?" Hastings managed to sound completely sincere and polite while asking who I wanted him to arrest. It was not unheard of for a noble to fabricate a failed assassination in order to remove a rival via law enforcement, but I required a different kind of help.
"That is what I want to find out, Inspector. I have no idea."
He rose an eyebrow at that. "Damn, you really don't know, do you? Well, that makes this both easier and more difficult." He reached for a file on his desk. "One of the attackers was a Julius Peet, a worker in Manufaktorum 197-AL. The other was Willa Drouton, a former political agitator in her district. Have you met them before?"
"No. I was never in the lower hive."
"Well, investigations down there are neither easy nor supposed to happen..."
I pulled a 100 throne bill out of my pocket and placed it on the table to shut him up. It worked.
"But in face of extraordinary circumstances, it will be done anyway. Do you want to come with me?"
"Would I be useful? I have never been there and have no idea how to do this sort of work?"
"If you continue spending money like this, there will be no problems. And it would be better if no paperwork about this affair would have to appear at all."
I was not sure about this idea, but I had few other options. So I agreed.
Hastings grapped his coat and fedora and soon afterwards, we sat in an enforcer car and more on the way into the lower hive. The Inspector had taken the time to hand me another coat similar to his own to conceal my uniform.
"Stay calm", Hastings set as we approached spiral road downwards into the steps of the hive, "and be ready to act in any way necessary. Don't worry to much, the lower hive is better than its reputation." If you say so. I just hope you're right.