Chapter 24
It was a long journey home. The Stallion of the Empire flew blind through the Warp, making short jumps of a few dozen lightyears at a time, her survival dependent entirely on her ancient astronavigation engines and the star charts that her original crew had produced. She ploughed through unseen tides that lashed ferociously against the hull and rattled her metal frame, and when it seemed like she could no longer bear the tumult without tearing herself apart, she would spring forth from the psychic morass of the Empyric tides, and give the crew a few days of blessed relief as they restored their bearings and prepared to dive deep into the Warp once more.
The crew were bound together by the desperate need to survive. With so few voidfarers having survived the trials of the Yolenna Symphony, the watches were long and dangerous, and every officer pitched in alongside the rest of the crew to keep the ship sailing. Ecclesiarchical priests took on tasks that had once been the sole purview of tech adepts and sailors who had been considered little more than menials a year earlier were tasked with assignments that would challenge even the most skilled voidfarers. Lives were lost -so many lives- to accidents, to Warp-madness, to the Ryleth who constantly found ways around the hastily erected barriers, snatching screaming sailors from their posts and then retreating back into their hiding places between decks and within the bulkheads.
The crew lived in fear: fear of the Warp, fear of the Void, fear of the Ryleth and the foul taint that still clung to the ship. But their fear brought them closer together, and the ragged band of voidfarers who survived the gruelling journey home soon forgot all the enmities of the past. They were no longer split between mutineers and loyalists but bound together by their shared need to survive and return to the light of the Golden Throne.
They had one thing in their favour; the Stallion of the Empire was well equipped for long journeys. She had fuel haulers and great hydrogen scoops, solar sails and asteroid spikers. When rations ran out, they raided ice worlds and survived for weeks on filtered algae. When xenos ships appeared on the hololith displays they fled, for they were unarmed until the ship's gunnery spirits could be repaired. When the oppressive depths of the Warp threatened to overwhelm their spirits and curdle their dreams, they prayed and sang and roared out encouragement to them until their throats were raw and their heads spinning from the exhaustion. By luck, skill and shear tenacity they endured and after six months of gruelling voyage, the crew of the Stallion, shattered, starving and depleted, found themselves once more in the Lysander system.
=][=
Jak stood on the bridge, staring out with into the void with fierce joy. The darkness, in truth, looked no different from the darkness anywhere else, but they had returned to Lysander. They weren't home, not by a long way, but they had reached the Imperium once more. He had triumphed against all the odds.
He wiped grease from his hands absent-mindedly on the filthy coveralls that he was wearing. He come straight to the bridge from the Gellar bilges, having worked tirelessly alongside his crew for the past six hours to keep the madness of the Warp at bay so that this final translation into realspace could be made.
"Auspex!" he called out. "Fix position and chronometer. Vox, announce ourselves to the good people of Lysander if you would. Let them know that Captain Jak Velasquez has returned."
There was a ragged cheer from the bridge crew, and then a hasty announcement of their identity was broadcast out into the void. Radhati Halksis had never recovered from his coma after encountering the strange psyker in cold storage aboard the Stallion. Without an astropathic choir, they'd had no way to announce word of their survival ahead of time. Now they could at least communicate via the vox, although it would be some hours before the message arrived at Lysander IV and a response could be expected. As Jak considered this, a junior officer of the Etherics team announced their transit time to the Lysander docks as nineteen days.
The first auspex sweeps showed that a great deal had changed in the months since Jak had departed the Lysander system. The shipyards had continued to grow, and it was clear that a new fleet was being outfitted. Drive signatures showed a number of familiar ships, including one that Jak had long thought lost forever.
"That the Siren's Wail!" He cried in delight when he saw the readouts. "She survived?"
"It appears so, sir. They have her patrolling the system between Lysanders III and IV, but she on trajectory to return to the shipyards two weeks ahead of us. It is not clear whether or not Captain Yurghan still holds command. We'll not know until we have word from the System Governor."
"I'll want a bloody good explanation if he's not in command," Jak muttered, idly scratching his grimy beard. "I should go clean up," he announced. "It's been too long since I've looked in a mirror, but I doubt I'm in any state to speak to a Queen."
Feeling like a new man and wearing a red silk eyepatch that Jestross had made for special occasions, Jak received the first message in his quarters. To his surprise, the vox came from the Queen directly, and was a fairly curt demand that he state his intentions and, if peaceful, dock at Lysander IV to declare himself with due haste.
Jak played the message three times, trying to get a sense of her state of mind. "She sounds stressed." He said. Jestross gave a complicated shrug of his four shoulders; the xenos had little interest in the nuances of human tone.
Jak personally voxed back sent his compliments and intention to comply, and then ordered the Stallion of the Empire to make due haste towards Lysander IV. He spent the next few hours reading carefully through the auspex reports of the system.
Lysander was apparently still on a war-footing, and it appeared that L'Tarvius had not given up on his crusade. Numerous larger vessels were docked in the great shipyards orbiting Lysander IV, and were being outfitted with lances and cannons. The Vonaznaniya, Maternin's old ship, was amongst them but had apparently not been re-fitted, presumably trying to understand the inners workings of the Adeptus Mechanicus vessel was more trouble than it was worth. However, the transport ships that he had escorted from Calixis were amongst those getting new weaponry, apparently donated to the Crusade by the colonists now that their journey was complete. The colonists themselves appeared to have made their homes on the moons of Lysander III; the Stallion's sensors detected a number of hab-domes that had not been present when they'd last been in-system. In orbit above one of the moons hung the skeletal foundations of an immense orbital cathedral being built, no doubt to serve as Archdeacon Benetor's headquarters.
The asteroid field and the Cobweb where so many ships had been lost remained impervious to scanning, just as the Kabalite Eldar liked it. There were no signs of Eldar vessels in the system, although even the auger arrays of the Stallion would struggle to detect an Eldar ship that did not want to be spotted.
All in all, the scans left Jak feeling disquieted, although he could not exactly say why. Both very little and a great deal seemed to have changed since he had last visited Lysander, and it concerned him that they received no further word from the Queen, nor a response to their hail of Siren's Wail. In fact, the first conversation Jak had with someone who wasn't a member of his crew, was with the Rogue Trader L'Tarvius.
L'Tarvius had set out in one of the Unshakeable Will's pleasure barges, flying close enough to the Stallion that they could converse via hololith without too great a delay in the transmission.
"Velasquez, my boy!" He boomed over the vox, his image appearing at full height in Jak's quarters, glowing green and fuzzing with static. "Throne on Terra, that ship! You must have some tale to tell, and I could not wait to hear it. I had to come out to see for myself." Jak couldn't help but smile at the big man's bombast.
"Indeed I do, Lord-Captain L'Tarvius. A tale you won't believe, and I wouldn't blame you if you called me a liar afterwards, but the Stallion of the Empire is my proof. We've been to the very edge of the galaxy and seen wonders and terrors that I can barely begin to describe."
"As I knew you would! I knew you'd take your chances, my boy. When you fled the Crusade, I said to my people, 'That's not the last we've heard of that boy, you mark my words'. And here you are! Proving me right once again."
Jak bristled momentarily at the word 'fled' but let it pass and focused instead on his curiosity regarding the Crusade and the current state of the Lysander system.
"I am mightily glad to see that the Siren's Wail survived the fighting. I had thought her lost. Tell me, does Yurghan still live?"
"The old goat? Oh indeed, indeed he does, he still captains the Siren and is a most devoted servant of Lysander. But the Siren is nothing compared to the ship you now command. I have her seen her like only a handful of times in my life. My dear boy, what's her gunnery like? Lances and broadsides yes? But she seems like she's built for cargo, and worn down quite a bit from her depredations no doubt? How would you rate her condition for fighting?"
"Oh, she's more than capable of holding her own in a fight," Jak lied. "I've never seen her like for calculating firing solutions."
"Capital!" L'Tarvius laughed. "Excellent news. And the timing must have been ordained by the God-Emperor himself for you find us just about ready to go another round with those horrible little Eldar! The Crusade continues, my boy, and you'll have a chance to get that revenge you've no doubt been longing for."
"Crusade? I have no intention of participating in another crusade, my Lord. I will present my compliments to the Queen, take my ships, the Stallion, the Siren and the Vonaznaniya, and I will return to the Calixis Sector in fulfilment of the Letter of Marque."
L'Tarvius laughed good naturedly, but there was an edge in his voice that Jak did not like when he replied. "Well of course you won't my dear boy! Not with that a ship. She is built for glory! How could you simply skulk away with your tail between your legs when the war is not yet won?"
"I assure you, there will be no skulking Lord L'Tarvius. My discovery is too important to waste time in needless scuffles with xenos."
L'Tarvius gave a deep, dissatisfied sigh, moustaches bristling.
"Well we'll wait until you have spoken to the Queen of course. Prettier faces than mine will no doubt prevail to convince you. And you must meet with the Archdeacon as well, he will insist. Separately to the Queen, of course," L'Tarvius gave a telling chuckle. "But if neither of those noble servants of the God-Emperor can convince you to do your duty to the Imperium and redeem your ignoble retreat from the glorious Crusade, then, well I'm sure we can entertain negotiations regarding the Siren's Wail and the Vonaznaniya."
"Negotiations, Lord L'Tarvius? You are mistaken, I believe. Those are my ships."
L'Tarvius shook his head, radiating sincerity in his disappointment. "Ah, if only it were that easy. You were declared dead dear boy! And those ships were salvaged, taken in and restored by the good people of Lysander. They are vital contributors to the security of the System. Duty demands that we not give them up cheaply."
"We?"
"Well they have fallen under my command as Lord-High Admiral of the System. A new title in recognition of the fine efforts that so many brave souls have undertaken to save this benighted system from the depredations of the enemy. Simply put, the Siren's Wail and the Vonaznaiya belong to me now, my boy. If you want them back there'll be a price to pay, starting with your assistance in the war." There was a glean in the Rogue Trader's eye as he spoke and there was little to discuss after that. Jak signed off with the barest of formalities to the senior rogue trader, fuming at the disrespect, not to mention the blatant extortion.
His surprise and confusion weren't done, however. A sensor officer meekly informed him that an encrypted transmission had been broadcast from the L'Tarvius barge. Jak played and the hololith sprang to life with the craggy features of Bream Yurghan, captain of the Siren's Wail. He spoke quickly, glancing off to the side as it worried that he was being spied upon.
"Lord-Captain Velasquez, if you are alive and well I greet you. There is a man aboard L'Tarvius's ship whom I trust, and I have given him this message to beam to you if he is able. I bring word from the Siren's Wail. Our ship survived that disastrous crusade and the crew is as well as can be expected, but we are unable to leave the system for fear of being hunted down and destroyed by the Unshakeable Will. We are unable to change course to join you on the orders of Lord L'Tarvius." In the recording, Yurghan paused for a moment, seeming to converse agitatedly with someone out of view.
"Sir, I will speak quickly. This systems is a powder keg, and your arrival may be the match that sets the whole thing off. L'Tarvius is a madman who will drive the entire system economy into freefall in order to win his personal war against the Eldar. The Queen grows tired of his ambition and his spending, but her people have been whipped up into a fervour and she cannot publicly oppose the Crusade, particularly with Archdeacon Benetor openly supporting it. The Archdeacon wants to be recognised as the supreme authority in the system, and L'Tarvius indulges him because it means four new ships for his ramshackle fleet, not to mention millions of religious fanatics willing to throw their lives away on another reckless expedition into the asteroid field. The Queen and the Archdeacon refuse to even speak to each other, and L'Tarvius is currently the only stopping them from going to war against one another. It's an ugly situation, sir, and I believe you are best advised to depart at once before you are drawn into their scheming. I do not believe that they have any intention of letting the Sirens Wail leave with you. In fact, from what I overhead, L'Tarvius believes that the new vessel in your possession would be the final piece in his armada." Yurghan looked over his shoulder one last time, and then returned to speaking, now in a hushed whisper. "That is all I can say, sir, I have spies aboard my own ship, the Rogue Trader's people. Go now and avert disaster, that's all I can say."
With that the message ended and Captain Yurghan's face blinked out of existence. Jak was left to contemplate his warning in grim silence.
=][=
The wardroom was much depleted from Oberon Velasquez's days. Only a dozen senior officers sat at the Stallion's long conference table, loudly debating the ship's next course of action whilst Jak lounged back in his seat and stared at the ceiling above, still deep in thought. He kept half his attention on his officers as his own thoughts slowly ticked over, desperately searching for a course forward.
"Yurghan is a sensible man," Al Dessi said forcefully over the other speakers. "If he has told us to leave then we should heed his words."
"And let that pompous ass L'Tarvius keep our ships?" Stieg spat.
"He has indicated that he is open to negotiation," said Lattemba. The Archmagos regarded his steepled fingers as he talked, small sparks arcing between his fingertips. "Perhaps this impasse can be resolved without any resort to violence."
"It'll need to be," said Jeena Beru. The grizzled old ship's Master had taken a fierce, possessive pride in the Stallion of the Empire, learning its ways faithfully, perhaps to avoid the grief of losing the Yolenna Symphony. "If L'Tarvius is like any other Rogue Trader I've known, he'll board us and take the ship the moment he knows we've got no guns."
"Another reason not to go to Lysander IV," Al Dessi jabbed her finger down at the table. "We can't get close enough to allow the Unshakeable Will to perform any deep auger scans." Jak sat up in his seat and turned to Lattemba.
"Is there any hope of getting our guns working again?"
"Sir, I have tried everything short of a full exorcism, and I lack the priests and the sacred knowledge to perform the feat safely. If I were to try, the likeliest result is a cataclysm that would destroy half the ship. These are gunnery spirits. Volatility is in their very nature."
"Even if we had all our cannons and lances, it wouldn't be enough," Stieg pointed out. "This is a well-armed trade galleon and L'Tarvius captains a grand bloody cruiser. Even with the Siren's Wail at our side we'd be blown to pieces in a fair fight amongst the stars. Hell, the Will could tear the Siren apart before her guns were even in range."
"We cannot fight L'Tarvius in our current condition," Al Dessi said. "Which leaves negotiation or fleeing the system."
"Why do people keep calling it fleeing?" Jak complained. Al Dessi gave him a confused look, which he waved away. "Our returning to Calixis will be sped up a great deal if we can acquire a Navigator."
"Which argues for negotiating with the Rogue Trader," Beru said. "There is a great deal of unaccounted for treasure still in the holds of the ship. Perhaps an expedition could be sent to conduct a stocktake. Somewhere on board a ten-thousand-year-old treasure ship there must be something that could entice L'Tarvius to return our ships and provide us with a Navigator. Or," she continued smoothly at the outraged sounds made by some of the officers, "we could negotiate directly with the Queen. I seem to recall she had a favourable impression of you, sir."
"My Lord," piped up a voice from the opposite side of the table to Jak. Confessor Salazar had said nothing as yet, and he spoke with hesitation now, reluctant to interrupt the sailors as they talked. "I have something to report, my Lord. I had not wanted to disturb you with it, during the enormous undertaking of returning us to the God-Emperor's embrace, but given our current situation I feel it would be remiss if I did not update you on my people's progress."
"Progress?" Jak asked.
"With the prisoner, my Lord. I believe it is directly relevant to the current direction of conversation."
"The prisoner," Jak tried to keep his ignorance from showing, but it took a few moments for him to recall the Eldar prisoner they had taken during the failed crusade. Throne that had seemed like a lifetime ago! "Of course, Confessor. You interrogated the prisoner?"
"We did, Lord. Successfully I believe. At first, we relied on the traditional methods. Burning, manipulation of the joints, chemical purification. Most unsatisfactory. He feels pain, he gave us very clear indications of that, but he did not seem averse to pain as a human would be. At times he ever seemed to take satisfaction from our frustrations. Perturbing."
"I see," Jak glanced at Al Dessi, who seemed equally nonplussed. "So, a new approach was required?"
"Indeed, my Lord. We meditated most fruitfully on how best to separate the impure xenos from his information. And therein lied the answer." Salazar gave a satisfied smile.
"I'm not sure I follow, Confessor."
"Our meditation and prayer seemed to produce quite an adverse reaction in him. He shook and screamed like a little child, threatening us with all kinds of quite awful blasphemies. The more powerful my search for inner serenity the less he seemed to enjoy it. So, I removed the more gleeful of my questioners and replaced them with diligent, optimistic men. Josiah read to the prisoner from the Canticles of Grace, and young Benjik sang night and day songs of joy and praise to the Emperor. You recall Benjik? A most singular voice. Beautiful. It seems that this convinced our prisoner to seek redemption in truth."
"Well there you go," Jak said, still unsure where this was leading. "Well done, man. And what did the alien tell you?"
"A most discreditable story. It seems that it starts with a ship that the prisoner served on over 500 years ago. One whose named translated as the Heartsbane."
The wardroom listened in stunned silence as Salazar relayed the story of the Heartsbane. Al Dessi was the first to break the speak once he was done.
"This clinches it. Sir, we should depart this system immediately. Salazar's story changes nothing except to confirm that the system is cursed and depraved."
"It's an ugly tale but I don't see that it changes anything," Stieg muttered, but Jak wasn't so certain. He held a hand up to silence his second officer.
"No, this might change everything. Lysander is built on a lie."
Finally, his racing thoughts slammed together into something approaching a plan. With a slowly dawning smile, Jak leaned across the table.
"Ladies and gentleman, you are all missing the point. Returning to Calixis with the Stallion in its current state is tantamount to surrendering it. The Imperial Navy or the Priests of Mars or some other group will take it from us the moment that they realise we're defenceless. We need our other ships to stop that from happening."
"We should not engage in a battle with Mars over possession of this vessel, Sir," bristled Lattemba. "Preserving her and keeping her safe must be our priority. Her value to the Imperium is immeasurable, the Adeptus Mechanicus are the only ones truly able to care for her as she should be cared for."
"I'm not talking about a battle with Mars, Lattemba. I'm talking about a negotiating position. I'm talking about backing up words with macrocannons. We're not leaving this system without the Siren's Wail."
The officers leaned forward intently. Every one of them had learned to recognise the tone of steel in Jak's voice when a decision had been made and the dice were ready to be rolled. "Ms Al Dessi, kindly inform L'Tarvius that we would be pleased to meet with him at the shipyards, to present gifts from our travels and discuss the return of the Siren' Wail. Then please present my compliments to Queen Hermia and inform her that Captain Velasquez requests an urgent and private conversation."
"Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?"
"Yes. Set a course for the moons of Lysander III and let's find a way to get word to Benetor's people. It's high time the Archdeacon and I caught up."
=][=
The Cathedral that the colonists were building would be big enough to viewed from planetside one day, sedately orbiting Lysander III's second moon in all its Gothic grandeur. Even in its unfinished state, it was an imposing sight. The colonists had survived in horrifically cramped conditions on the way out so that there would be room in the transport ships for all the stonework, glassware and statuary that the Archdeacon had requested.
Jak was led through to the primary basilica by a pinch faced attendant who announced the guest with a crack of his staff against the tiles and then disappeared again into the shadows. Jak could see the Archdeacon at the far end of the nave, bowed in prayer at the base of the altar.
Still only half built, the portside wall of the cathedral was nothing but skeletal stonework ribs and gently curving vaulting. The makeshift void-shield generators keeping the atmosphere in did not hide the stark beauty of the void beyond. However, on the starboard side, facing the sun, most of the work had been completed and vivid coloured light streamed across the stone tiles through stained-glass windows, washing Jak in a myriad of hues as he approached the Archdeacon.
Hearing the echo of Jak's footsteps, Benetor rose and turned slowly. "So," he said, his tones of tremulous sanctimony unchanged since they had last met. "The boy returns. The galaxy has chewed you up and spat you out, it seems. I hope the experience has made for a humbler and wiser captain than the child I last laid eyes on."
"Humble and wise, most definitely," Jak said with a good-humoured smile. The two men met in the middle of the nave, sizing each other up. "I see you've been busy, Benetor."
"Busy saving this system from itself. The Queen is a heretic, Velasquez. By rights she should have burned at the stake by now. It is my duty to take these blighted planets back into the light of the God-Emperor's sight, even if I must assume the burden of sovereign."
"So I've heard," Jak turned away and pretended to take a deep interest in the woodwork of the pews, avoiding Benetor's gaze as he spoke. "It seems that you've hit a snag there, though, if you don't mind me saying. You've thrown your lot in with L'Tarvius, hoping he'll back your move against the Queen. Supporting L'Tarvius means supporting the Crusade, even to the point of arming those old Jericho-class transports. But once the Crusade departs, and it'll have to depart eventually, there'll be nothing left to defend this cathedral when the Queen comes knocking." He turned back to Benetor, smiling with an expression of good natured sincerity that he knew would infuriate the Archdeacon. "And she will come knocking Archdeacon," he continued. "L'Tarvius won't dethrone her, he needs her too much. He plans to play the middle against the two of you until he's got everything he wants, and when he's gone it's just your colonists against a woman with three planet's worth of planetary defence forces."
"You forget, boy," Benetor growled, waggling his finger in Jak's face, "that I have the might of the Holy Church on my side. They may seem far from here, but I assure you, if I call upon my allies in the Greater Imperium they will bring down a wrath upon that traitorous bitch-Queen that you cannot possibly fathom. Her line will be extinguished, and her name will forever be held by her people as an example of the woe that befall those who defy the chosen representatives of the God-Emperor of Mankind. And the woe that will befall you if you are thinking of helping her."
"I wasn't thinking of helping the Queen," Jak replied brightly. "As a matter of fact, I was of a mind to help you."
Benetor stopped, but it took a moment for his finger to lower as he processed this new information. He scowled suspiciously at Jak. "You haven't gained that much humility and wisdom, boy. Why would you offer to support the church now? What do you have to gain?"
"Everything," Jak smiled, and gestured out towards the void. "Perhaps you've heard I'm now in possession of a heresy-era galleon. I'll be returning to Calixis with the greatest treasure that the sector has seen in over a century. There will be parades thrown in my honour on the streets of Scintilla. They'll give me a Warrant of Trade and a dynasty of my own, if I play my cards right. And that means I need to return a hero, with no loose ends, and no complications. The Lysander System is a loose end. And the Church could be a complication if it chose to be. I want to avoid that."
"Ah," Benetor nodded. He brushed past Jak, staring out towards the half-built walls and the darkness of the Void. "Now it makes sense. It is greed that motivates you. Venal, craven greed."
"Does it matter what my motives are if it gets you what you want? I can get you a meeting with the Queen, Benetor, and I can convince her to recognise you as the rightful ruler of the colony worlds as well as the spiritual ruler of the whole system. I can make her see that she has no other options, that L'Tarvius is a madman and that the next fleet to visit the Lysander System will be a battlefleet of the Holy Inquisition. She'll believe me, Benetor, and then you can report back to your friends in the Ecclesiarchy that I am as a reliable a friend as the Holy Church could ever have."
Benetor snorted. "You are a degenerate, barely a step above a heretic. And yet," he paused, and in that moment, Jak knew he had the Archdeacon. "You believe the Queen will listen to you? When she's ignored every attempt that I have made to get her to see reason?"
"That's because I have something you lack, Archdeacon. Charm." Jak grinned a toothy a smile. Benetor scowled but Jak quickly continued. "And she's already agreed to meet. With both of us. But it must be completely secret. Your people and hers can't know that there are negotiations happening unless they succeed."
"A secret meeting?"
"Just the two of us and our bodyguards. No more than ten each, and ten for her. Men that you can trust to keep their mouths closed. You'll tell no one where you're going, call it a period of religious seclusion, or some such. Then we go off into the night and rendezvous with the Queen at a private location. We meet, we talk, and if it doesn't go well then you walk away and continue on as you have. You lose nothing."
"And if it does go well?"
Jak smiled. "You rule the system. And I return to Calixis with an Archdeacon in my pocket."
=][=
The Tower of Dreams lay in the shadow of a great crater's slopes on the dark side of an otherwise unremarkable moon. It rose up like a dark spear towards the perpetual shadow of the void, reflecting no light, hidden from probing augers and all but forgotten except by the royal family of Lysander, who had built it during their wars against King Demetrius so many years earlier. Jak's guncutter landed a few hundred metres away from the base of the tower. As agreed, he arrived with only the cutter's crew and his bodyguard.
His guards awaited him at the base of the cutter's ramps, alert and tense, guns held openly in their hands. Borjean led them, and there was a gleam in the old man's eye as he thumped a salute against his chest. Their friendship might never recover its old warmth but Borjean had not lost his sense of reckless adventure and humour.
"Nothing foolish," Jak warned. "No gunfights without my signal." Borjean only grinned in response.
They met the Archdeacon's party at the base of the tower, being watched warily by ten members of the Queen's Guard, kitted out with the best arms and armour Lysander could provide, wearing matching wary scowls. The Archdeacon's guards were hulking missionary fanatics, hooded and bare chested, the mechanical shunts visibly protruding from their shoulders ready to pump combat stimulants in their muscles at a moment's notice. Amidst them, Benetor was a dwarf, wrapped in velvet and ermine.
"Let's get this over with, Velasquez," he snapped. "I've waited long enough for my authority to be recognised in this system."
"My Lords." The Captain of the Queen's Guard was a young, hard-faced man in a peaked cap, carrying a gun half the size of his body. He gestured towards the single door set into the smooth plas-steel walls of the tower. "The Archdeacon and Lord-Captain only are permitted entry. The Queen awaits you at the top. The rest of us will remain here below until your meeting is concluded."
With careful solicitude, Jak gestured for the Archdeacon to walk ahead of him. They entered the tower together, stepping directly into a brightly lit elevator. In cramped, awkward silence, the men rode to the top of the Tower of Dreams. After what seemed an interminable time to Jak, a door finally opened -this time on the other side of the elevator- and they stepped out into a half-mooned atrium, ornately furnished with obsidian seating and stands that displayed precious heirlooms of the Lysandrian dynasty.
"You may enter," a woman's voice came through over the internal vox system. A broad wood-panelled door on the other side of the atrium led into a larger room, this one as humid as a greenhouse and festooned with the lush flora of Lysander IV, from broad flat-leaved ground covering plants, to brightly coloured tendrils of feathered spores that twitched languidly in the wet heat. Queen Hermia stood in the middle of the room, seemingly unperturbed by the temperature, her hands held primly in front of her, her expression hidden behind a long veil.
Jak smiled warmly at the sight of her and bowed as graciously as he knew how. Beside him he could feel Benetor stiffen, unsure how to greet his rival. The Queen too, gave no gesture in response to the two men, and said no words of greeting.
"Your majesty," Jak said, eager to cut past the tension that hung in the room as thick as the moisture in the air. "It is a great pleasure to see you again."
"It is a great surprise to see you Lord-Captain Velasquez," she replied, her tone formal and reserved. "We had feared you dead. I was pleased to hear that you had survived your encounter with the Dark Kin. And now, I hope you have returned to help put an end to this pointless feuding."
Benetor had agreed to allow Jak to speak first, knowing that the younger man would have a better chance of convincing the Queen. "I am here to see reason prevail your majesty. Not one of us wants to see ruin come to the system, but the threats to your reign are all too clear."
"What threat do you speak of?" The Queen's voice was high and sharp. This was a tone of command and rule, a woman used to being obeyed and impatient with insinuation. Jak knew he would have to tread carefully from here.
"Your majesty, the Archdeacon has invited me to speak as someone who considers you a friend, and who I hope you also see in friendship. I come as a Captain who has fought on behalf of your people, to convey bluntly the reality of the situation you find yourself in. L'Tarvius would have you believe that the greatest threat to this system and your Empire are the Eldar slavers, whom you call the Dark Kin. But the true threat to this system is Lord-Captain L'Tarvius himself."
In the silence that followed, Jak could sense Benetor about to open his mouth and harangue the young queen. He held one hand up, ever so slightly, hoping the Archdeacon had sense enough to hold his tongue at least a little longer.
"What do you mean by this claim, Captain Velasquez?" The Queen asked.
"L'Tarvius and his crusade, the endless arming of ships to be thrown away in his futile expeditions into the asteroid field. He is a threat, not only to the prosperity of this system, but to your very reign. He has inveigled himself into a position of authority with his power and promises, but his Crusade threatens everything your family has built in Lysander. The expansion of the system, the building of war fleets- to the Imperial authorities that I report to, these actions will appear to be a prelude to secession."
"You truly came here to tell me that the man who has dedicated his wealth and his warships to the safety of my people is a greater threat than the one I see before me?"
"Your majesty-" Jak began but Benetor could restrain himself no longer. "I was granted this diocese as an ordained leader of the Adeptus Ministorum," he barked. "I will have my station recognised!"
"Or you will have your lapdog here tell his Masters in Calixis that we are secessionists?" The Queen laughed, scornful. "This is how you intend to coerce me?"
Jak spread his hand out, trying to assume the appearance of honest broker. "I will simply report honestly on what I have seen and heard of this system and its government. That is a condition of my Letter of Marque. They will draw their own conclusions from my report. But your highness, I know the Imperial Bureaucracy and her Navy. I know how they think. The fleet that comes after mine will be a pacification fleet."
"So you have better take your little-" Jak held up a hand before Benetor could get started.
"You eminence, please. If the Queen and I could have a moment alone, I'm sure I can convince her of our common cause."
The Archdeacon left with only a few muttered complaints. He and Jak had planned this earlier, and although it had taken some convincing, Benetor knew that he was no diplomat. His temper would only get in the way of their task.
Jak had turned his head to make sure that Benetor had left the room, so he was caught unawares when the Queen came up on his blindside, walking right up to him and reaching a hand out to his face. Her veil was lifted, and she looked into Jak's face as she gently ran her fingers along the scar that peeked beneath his eyepatch.
"My poor Jak Velasquez," she said softly. "What did you get yourself into?"
He tilted his head down into her touch. "It was nothing," he said, placing his hand over hers. "I lost the eye, but it was worth the cost."
"What did your sacrifice win you? That beautiful ship I see you've brought with you?"
"A vision of my destiny," Jak replied. "Better than any ship."
"Destiny," the Queen repeated thoughtfully. "You said in your message you had news that would change everything. What does that mean. What did you find on your ancient ship?"
"It was nothing to do with the Stallion, your majesty, but another ship I was referring to," he took a deep breath and dropped his hand from hers. Oh well, he was all in now. "The Heartsbane."
She snatched her hand away from him like she had been scalded, turning away suddenly. But Jak had seen the flash of recognition in her face. He kept speaking as she walked away from him, moving as if she could somehow escape what was coming.
"When I saw you last, your majesty, you told me a story of angels from the sky. Mysterious strangers who helped House Lysander overthrow the Demetrius dynasty and expand the kingdom to new planets in the system. You said they came in a ship called the Heartsease. But it was never called that. It was the Heartsbane. An Eldar vessel."
"Where did you hear this ludicrous story?"
"From the Eldar themselves. They're notorious liars of course, but they had no reason to lie about this. They were your family's benefactors, all those years ago. The Dark Kin helped House Lysander take control of the system and grow it beyond its potential. Fattening you up. Did they tell your ancestors that you were going to become a prime slave-trading route? Was that part of the deal? Or did that come later?"
"No one would believe this nonsense, these lies," The Queen spat, her back still towards Jak.
"L'Tarvius would," he shot back. "Because it would suit him to. You can't be blind to the man's ambition, your majesty. He calls himself Admiral now, but that won't last. As long as the Unshakeable Will is in this System he is the most powerful force in your Empire. And all he'd need is the hint of a rumour to depose you and crown himself King. All in the name of his great crusade of course. It wouldn't matter if it were a lie or not. But… it's not a lie, is it your majesty?"
Queen Hermia's shoulders slumped. When she turned back to Jak, there was a vulnerability there that he had not seen in her before.
"They were fools," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Fools to trust in the beneficence of the xenos. But we were so far from the rest of the Imperium. We had been forgotten. House Demetrius was a nest of vipers, sick with their own poison, happy to ignore the fact that the planet was dying. We needed materials to build shipyards, refineries, water purification, we needed technology to grow our crops and fuel our ships. The Dark Kin offered all of those things. And the price they asked in return…" she lapsed into anguished silence.
"They stole those materials from other Imperial worlds," Jak said quietly. "To help grow a colony world that they knew would be far from Imperial protection. Your Empire is a farm for the Dark Kin, your majesty. Your forebears sold out the future of your people to make themselves royalty." She did not deny it. She could not. The look of anguish on her face told Jak that everything the Eldar prisoner had said was true.
"Am I to be condemned for the crimes of my ancestors?" She asked finally, meeting his gaze, her eyes wet with unshed tears. He walked up to her and gently took her hands in his.
"I would like to think that we are each of us masters of our own destiny, your majesty. I don't intend to be defined by those who came before me. The offer I made to you is real. L'Tarvius will squander all your ships and resources on his doomed crusades. Benetor will drag you into a civil war if he does not get the recognition and power that he wants."
"And what is it you want, Captain Velasquez?" The Queen threaded her fingers through Jak's. "You have me. Alone. Compromised. If you want to extort me, you have everything that you need to do so. So what is it exactly that you want?"
Jak smiled slowly. This was it. He rolled the dice.
=][=
Five minutes later, the Archdeacon Benetor Torsmund returned from the atrium to find the Queen standing very demurely besides a grinning Jak Velasquez.
"Your eminence," she said, addressing him by his formal title for the first time. "The Lord-Captain has spoken faithfully and true of your rightful role in this system. As such, I have a proposal. I will cede the rights to the system's two colony planets immediately, whilst retaining my place as Queen and Planetary Governor of Lysander IV. I will select Governors to administer the colony planets and all of us will recognise you as the rightful representative of the Ecclesiarchy and the highest spiritual authority within our realm."
"I will select the governors," the Archdeacon snapped quickly and Jak saw the Queen clasp her hands together tight, possibly to restrain the urge to strangle him.
"I will nominate candidates," she said with forced patience, "who will then be subject to your approval."
"Very well," Benetor finally conceded, rubbing his jaw as if agreement caused him some kind of pain. He probably wasn't used to it, Jak thought, marvelling at the fact that man could win everything he'd wanted in a single stroke and still sound disgruntled. "There are many details to iron out. I will want-"
"Your eminence," Jak interrupted. "We have the concession we came here for. Let us leave the haggling over details for the bureaucrats. Please, your majesty, we will leave you to your contemplation now, if you permit us."
"Yes," the Queen nodded. She walked to a writing desk set at the side of the room and touched a mounted vox-caster. "Captain Adriarc. We have reached an accord. Our guests are to leave peacefully."
"An accord, your majesty. Understood." The tinny response rang through the vox-caster. Jak was already guiding the Archdeacon towards the elevator. "Thank you, your majesty," he called out as they departed, but if she replied he did not hear it. The doors closed behind them, leaving the Queen alone.
Benetor did not speak until they were in the elevator, slowing descending. A wide, self-satisfied smile broke across his wrinkled face. "You have your uses boy, I'll grant you that," the old man crowed. "It took you far too long to come to your senses, but you finally realised what your duty was. How you made the little bint see sense I do not know and do not want to know but I have her now. She'll be kissing my ring by All-Saints Day you just wait and see." He gave a harsh laugh.
"I'll take your word for it," Jak said, slipping a hand beneath his coat, feeling suddenly cold. He thought of the agreement he had just made with the Queen, wondering for a moment if he'd done the right thing. Could he live with the choices he'd made? He would have to.
"But don't think this changes my opinion of you one whit, boy! I will tell the truth in my reports to my superiors, have no fear! You are devious, disrespectful, reckless and lacking all the qualities necessary in a Rogue Trader. You are an untrustworthy scoundrel, useful though you may be, and I will have all the Cardinals in the Calixis Sector know it!"
"Well," Jak breathed. "I suppose that makes this easier." He drew his pistol from its shoulder holster and shot the Archdeacon dead.
The lasfire blew a hole straight through the Archdeacon's unarmoured chest; he died instantly. As the elevator continued its descent, Jak looked silently into the corpse's face. Even in death, the Archdeacon's expression of sour distaste remained.
He could hear gunfire outside, but it was already growing sparse and had died off completely by the time the elevator doors opened. He stepped out on the surface of the moon. The stale air of the void-shielded tower complex carried the acrid stink of close range weapons fire. Corpses were strewn across the plaza and scorch marks marred the otherwise pristine stonework. The bodies were all Benetor's people; his own guards and those of the Queen appeared to have come through unscathed, numbers and the element of surprise being on their side. Borjean threw an officious salute at the sight of his captain.
"All dead, sir, as requested," his face clouded with concern for a moment. "'Accord' did mean kill them all, right sir?"
"It did," Jak said, with satisfaction. Borjean sagged with relief. "Oh good then, I was worried I'd forgotten the signal for a moment. I take it this means the little Queen's on board with the plan then."
Jak held off his reply. The Captain of the Guard walked over, sparing a glance at the body of the Archdeacon, still slumped in the elevator. He saluted Jak with enthusiasm.
"Captain Adriarc, of the Queen's Guard, my Lord. On behalf of her majesty, I'd like to convey my thanks for ridding her of that damn priest. She would also like me to state that she intends to hold up her end of the bargain. Whatever you intend to do at the shipyards, you will have the support of the Lysandrian Planetary Defence Force behind you."
"Then please convey my sincere gratitude to your Queen and if you will excuse me, I intend to make all haste towards Lysander IV."
The captain saluted again, and Jak strode back towards his cutter, guards trailing behind him.
"I'll send word to Ms Al Dessi to point the Stallion towards Lysander IV then, sir?" Borjean asked. Jak gave a grim smile.
"Indeed, Mr Narn. Tell her we're going to go get our bloody ships back."
