Diem Infamia Chapter 3

It felt good to get his boots off after a long day standing at his post. Georgios Mandas luxuriated in the feeling as he sat in a leather armchair, kicking back with a glass of Cibus' Joiliq in one hand. He gently rolled the wine around the glass, watching how the light glinted off its amber colours only sipping occasionally for he wanted to relax, not get roaring drunk

Mandas' personal quarters were a testament to a lifetime of voidfaring; there was a painting of the dreaming spires of Sucaris, a bookshelf filled with well-read tomes and a trophy Ork pistol, taken from the first Greenskin he had ever killed with his cutlass. Unlike most naval officers the Averof's Captain didn't keep an official mistress on board, none of the wenches he dallied with down in the dockyards able to compete with the thrill of commanding a starship. Georgios Mandas wasn't sure how old his body was, warp time-dilation and rejuvenat made such details hard to judge, but he was confident he was closer to two hundred than one hundred and it had been a life filled with excitement.

Mandas had been born in the lower slums of Tectum, running among the dock-rats and gangs of the impoverished masses. His parents had scraped and scratched to get their only son into a small naval academy, though without blood connections to the high Admiralty it had been expected he would live out his life as a junior officer. To everyone's surprise Mandas had excelled, a combination of skill, luck and flair taking him to the heady rank of escort Commander. Even so that would have been the height of his career, had he not lead the charge at the battle of Sacellum. His Cobra destroyer had run an insane gauntlet of fire and launched the very torpedoes that had taken down the flagship of the Night Lord's invasion.

Mandas had been the hero of the fleet, (for all of fifteen minutes), and command of a line Cruiser had followed, one the Admiralty had granted through gritted teeth. They had done their very best to forget him since but Mandas hadn't cared, life as a Captain was all he had ever wanted and the Averof was his pride and joy. They had sailed and fought across the sector, over and over, and once even journeyed as far as Holy Terra, that festering cesspit of political intrigue and greed, an experience he never wanted to repeat.

Mandas' thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice saying, "You going to eat those?" Mandas blinked and focussed on his Commissar, lounging in an armchair opposite him. Kaath-Dousmanis had his coat off and was already picking up a bowl of Kaba nuts from the low table between them. In Mandas' opinion the Commissar could benefit from laying off the snacks, his gut was growing steadily as the years passed, but Kaath-Dousmanis was already popping a brown nut into his mouth and crunching loudly.

Mandas eyed his Chief Commissar and reminded himself that the man had been a political appointment. Deeter Kaath-Dousmanis hailed from a lesser branch of the sprawling Dousmanis family and so was tied by blood to Lord Admiral Dousmanis, supreme commander of Battlefleet Karyl. Deeter had been destined since birth for a cushy desk job at Fleet headquarters, but even the haughty old-blood families that dominated the Navy recognised their offspring needed a little seasoning first, hence his posting to the Averof. Unfortunately the coming of the Noctis Aeterna had put paid to that, all thoughts of promotion had been lost in the anarchy and madness. Years of hard fighting and brutal civil suppressions had fallen upon Battlefleet Karyl and the Commissar had been forgotten. Deeter Kaath-Dousmanis had sunk into apathy, getting fat and lazy, a situation Mandas did not quarrel, as it let him run his ship as he pleased.

Kaath-Dousmanis loudly crunched another Kaba nut, spilling crumbs down his shirt as he mumbled, "Do you… think… the admiralty will be… pleased with us?"

Mandas sighed and then replied, "They should be, taking out the pirates will finally allow shipments to get to Greater Tectum untroubled."
Kaath-Dousmanis swallowed and then sniffed, "Only took us a bloody year to accomplish."

There was an icy snort from the other side of the table, where Commander Genera Grenfeld was sitting primly in an armchair. The first officer was a lean woman, stern and pinched faced, with iron-grey hair. She was older than she looked, having finally been forced to seek rejuvenat treatments to extend her lifespan. She was a harsh taskmistress, strict with the crew and demanding in her expectations. The Imperial Navy was a hidebound organisation, patriarchal and condescending, so few women rose to high rank, but those that did developed spines of compressed adamantium and a fast draw. The Captain thought Grenfeld had the fire to command a ship of her own, unfortunately she hadn't been born on Tectum and the old-blood looked down on officers from outside their privileged society as being even lower than a dock-rat like Mandas. The chances of her rising to command anything other than a mass-hauler were growing slimmer with every year.

Grenfeld sniffed archly and remarked, "We wouldn't have this trouble if the merchants would listen to us and wait for a proper escort."
Mandas shook his head and sighed, "Alas, we don't have enough ships to guard every convoy; Battlefleet Karyl is overstretched on every front."

It was true, tides of darkness assailed the Imperium since the opening of the Cicatrix Maledictum, even on the far side of the galaxy Battlefleet Karyl was nearly overwhelmed trying to hold the line. Angrily Grenfeld spat, "Once pirates in the outer Tectum system would have provoked a full fleet scouring of the asteroid belts, now all we can muster is one lone ship. One ship to sweep a whole stellar system, it's amazing it only took us a year."

Mandas took a sip of his wine then declared, "It felt good though, to be shooting at genuine enemies, rather than our own citizens."

The smiles died and Kaath-Dousmanis muttered, "Those food riots were bad enough but the insurrections and protests were intolerable. How dare the filthy masses speak out against their betters?!"

Grenfeld scowled in offence and spat, "They were starving! For five years Tectum was cut off, the warp storms made it impossible for a single ship to move through the Immaterium. The moons of Greater Tectum house fifty billion people and we had enough agri-domes to feed half that number. Children were starving in the streets!"
Kaath-Dousmanis leaned forward and said, "Careful rationing could have averted disaster, but the people are fat and lazy slobs, they expect something for nothing!"

Mandas eyed the Commissar's portly waist and remembered all the tables of fine food that had been evident around the admiralty during those lean years. When times became hard it was never the rich and powerful who starved. The old-blood had stuffed their faces while the poor fought over crusts of bread, all the while claiming the common folk didn't know how good they had it. Mandas had resented how the Averof had been dispatched to put down food riots and smash rebellious domed settlements on the moons of Greater Tectum, while the lords of the Imperium feasted in opulence. But he could not question their orders; the Imperium was built on obedience above all.

Diplomatically Mandas said, "It could have been worse, I heard the Tech-Priests of Crux Lapis ground the dead down into paste to feed to their workers."
Grenfeld added, "At least the storms finally cleared and shipments could resume."

Kaath-Dousmanis concurred, "Grain and vegetables from Glaeba, hops and fruit from Cibus, Kelp and fish from Lujan. Not to mention we finally got the Orks under control in Dulcis; our shipyards are at last working at full capacity."

Sadly Mandas commented, "They are desperately needed, Battlefleet Karyl has work to do. We can put this dark page of history behind us and get back to being big goddam heroes."

Kaath-Dousmanis laced his fingers before him and declared, "We timed it well, the Averof should get back to Salamis base in time for the Lord Admiral's ball, his youngest daughter will be a debutante and every unmarried man is after her hand. The chance to marry into the Dousmanis family is too good an opportunity to miss, plus I hear her face was reshaped by the finest surgeons her father's money could buy."

Mandas rolled his eyes at that, the Commissar's one passion was keeping up with high society gossip, Deeter always seemed to know what the competing families that dominated Tectum were up to. He knew all about the balls, feasts, sporting events, marriages and funerals that were little more than an excuse for the old-blood to scheme and plot. Mandas didn't care much for it, partly because his true love was his ship, but also because a dock-rat like him was never invited to those sort of parties.

Grenfeld however raised an eyebrow and said, "Dousmanis the Younger has been busy since he inherited his uncle's position as Lord Admiral. He has consolidated his family's rule, forged pacts with merchant consortiums and doubled their riches."

Kaath-Dousmanis leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "He even managed to undercut the Kountouriotis family, the only real threats to his household's dominance. Admiral Kountouriotis was caught up in some backroom scandal and demoted to vice-admiral."

Mandas didn't care for the endless intrigues of the Admiralty but Grenfeld frowned and said, "Somehow the Lord Admiral managed to beget a son and three daughters, despite being… well you know."

Kaath-Dousmanis snorted, "You mean because he prefers to spend his nights among the younger male officers to his wife?"
Grenfeld started and exclaimed, "I thought that was hush-hush!"

Mandas smiled and explained, "Everybody knows and no one cares. He wins battles, that keeps the Navy happy and he sires heirs, so his family are content. What he does in his off-hours doesn't matter, success counts for more than anything else."

Kaath-Dousmanis grinned wickedly and jested, "Have you seen his wife? His family forced him to marry her because she's the daughter of the Governor of Angles Redoubt. Ugliest women in the sector, the man needs to drink an entire bottle of Amasec to go near her!"

The Commissar guffawed loudly at his crass joke but Mandas was irked by his comment, the man wasn't half as funny as he thought himself. Mandas decided to barb the Commissar and announced, "Did you hear the news? Word has come via Astropath, the Indomitus Crusade is heading for Tectum."

That cut the laughter short, as the news sank in. The Indomitus Crusade was swiftly becoming legendary, the vast offensive sent forth by the Risen Primarch to drive back the darkness assailing mankind. Kaath-Dousmanis swallowed nervously and queried, "Space Marines are coming?"

"Oh yes," Mandas stated evilly, "The Storm Heralds are coming too." Kaath-Dousmanis face became panicked and his jaw trembled, for he had good reason to be worried. Some years ago he had made one of his chauvinist quips within earshot of an Astartes Captain named Toran. Toran hadn't understood that it was a joke and subsequently had cornered the Commissar to demand he explain the remark, in exacting detail. To his dying day Mandas would treasure his memory of seeing the Commissar tripping over his tongue, trying to explain sexual innuendo to an eight-foot gene-forged transhuman soldier of the God-Emperor.

Kaath-Dousmanis went very quiet but Grenfeld inquired, "The Crusade is heading for Segmentum Tempestas?"
"Aye," Mandas answered, "They are stopping here to resupply and refit their capital ships, then it's back to war. Don't ask me where, their destination is classified above our clearance."

Grenfeld's eyes went hazy and she said, "I wonder if Roboute Guilliman will be present? I'd love to see him."
Mandas replied, "I'd rather see the Macragge's Honour and the Eternal Crusader too."

Grenfeld looked surprised as she uttered, "You're not interested in meeting a Primarch?!"
Mandas shrugged as he explained, "Primarchs are all myth and legend, it's too abstract for me, but to see a Glorianna class, let alone two… that would be sight to remember."

Grenfeld smirked, "What about the Shadow of the Emperor? You've seen the pict captures of her assault on Lujan II."
Mandas waved his hand, sloshing his wine and said, "The Shadow is a damned Traitor ship, and I never put eyes upon her. Besides she hasn't been seen around these parts in a decade. Show me a true naval legend of the Imperium and I'll die happy."

Grenfeld muttered, "That's all well and good, but we've got to get this convoy to safety and return to dock."
Mandas sighed, "Six long months of filling in reports and meeting with bean counters in the Departmento Munitorum. Damned clerks crawling through our logbooks, looking for places we've used too much grease or wasted a bar of soap. I swear those bean counters won't be happy until we suffocate in red tape. But still, the crew needs to be rotated out; the officers and midshipmen are overdue relief."

Heads nodded at that, crewmen were only human, they needed to rest and reorganise after a year-long tour. Nobody mentioned the tens of thousands of ratings filling the bowels of the ship, lowly press-ganged souls who were chained into workgangs and condemned to a life of hard labour. The Imperial Navy spent lives without thought; those people would stay at their posts until they died. Mandas put down his glass and said, "We better get some rest, we're due to reach the orbit of Greater Tectum in six hours, I want us all rested before then. The officer of the watch will alert us if anything happens."

Grenfeld and Kaath-Dousmanis stood up and brushed off their uniforms, then they took their leave. Mandas waited for them to go then headed to his bedchamber, but before he did so he touched a bulkhead and whispered to the Averof, "Goodnight old girl and rest easy, it won't be long until we're off to the stars once more."