Chapter 5 – first space trip

First lieutenant Sannita turned her face to the morning sun and closed her eyes, drinking its warmth. It was one of her favourite tricks, to take the micro pauses whenever the circumstances allowed. It kept her sharp. And Emperor knew she needed every moment she could get. It was almost noon and she hadn't slept in 32 hours. The stimulant drugs kept them going but every hour weighted heavier as the fatigue amassed, hidden.

"First lieutenant" came from the voxbead in her ear, cutting her breath long pause in half. It was the major's voice, formal as ever.

"Listening, major" Sannita answered crisply. She glanced at the helmet in her hand, the lens indicated he had opened a private channel.

"A Mechanichum representative is performing an autopsy on one of our nightly visitors" the major informed. "Witness it. I want the truth from guard eyes, not some scholastic drivel."

"Affirmative, major" she answered, and he cut the link.

The closest soldiers in the trench, the fraction of her platoon on a short break, looked up on her. They were tired and dirty, but their eyes were bright and eager. They were ready for whatever order she'd received. The privilege of leading the best, Sannita thought, as she shook her head to them, and they relaxed again.

She donned her helmet and opened a private channel with some swift eye movements as she fastened the chin buckle.

"Boss" came Rext's answer immediately, a bit out of breath from the heavy lifting.

"Rext, I'm off for at least an hour. You have the reins" Sannita ordered.

"Oki dookie, boss. I'll keep them alive" came his friendly answer.

"I would appreciate a bit more professionalism in all communication, first sergeant" she informed, following the majors example. "We are the First and the exemplars of the regiment."

"Yes sir" came Rext's answer after a pause.

Sannita cut the channel. Their history did always make her out as a hardass, she knew, but she couldn't start playing favourites or cutting corners, especially not with her second in command.

She climbed up the trench and followed it along the hill. Down the slope beyond, most of her company was in the business of dragging the slain enemies to a pyre further down and burning them, equipment and all. It was hard work but necessary, they couldn't have rotting carcasses growing foreign diseases along their lines.

The impressive sights from the northside stopped her, as it did every time she witnessed the speed of entrenchment. On and between the rocky hills outside the black wall the Lerderian Guard was amassing. And with them the infrastructure and machinery of a small war. The troop transports had continued arriving since first light and the engineers had started fortifying the landscape as soon as their first vehicle was unloaded.

The very ground was transformed into rockcrete and moulded into walls, squat towers and buried bunkers among the hills. The first artillery pieces where now being deployed along with some anti air defences. One of the hilltops was being flattened and paved to withstand the continuous landing of the transports.

The forward operating base was still being dwarfed by the strange wall, though, Sannita thought as she looked across the plain.

"What do you see, First Lieutenant?" a calm voice said too close behind Sannita. The commissar came up beside her and took in the view, hands at his back. His large coat and cap of office just emphasizing his looming over her.

"A quick victory" she answered carefully.

"For whom?" he calmly asked on, without meeting Sannita's gaze. His calmness brought her back to the night before, when she'd watched him simply enter into close combat with the nightmare killing everything within reach and simply banishing it. Without ever showing stress, fear or hate. He calmly just did it. It was unnatural, how did they find and train these people?

"The Imperium of course" she answered at last. "If these medieval mutants couldn't even take a trenched hill from us, how could they ever stand against this?" she finished with a gesture over the hilltops being hurriedly transformed.

"I heard your order, we'll talk on the way to the autopsy" the commissar said, looking down at her at last with his piercing eyes. He started down the slope. Sannita wondered if commissars were authorized to monitor private command channels or if he'd just been with the major. She caught up immediately and skid down alongside the commissar.

"You are quite young for the rank" the commissar continued apropos nothing as they reached the bottom and continued on between the slopes.

"Are you insinuating something, commissar" Sannita answered almost threateningly. "I've have worked hard and earned every single rank on my way to where I am". He glanced at her, giving no hint of emotion. She chided herself for being played. He could access everything about her and easily finding nerves to strike, it's what they do. Forcing back the professionalism in her voice she continued, "why this line of inquiry, commissar? Are you joining me just to ascertain if my family has 'sponsored' my military career?"

"Not at all, First Lieutenant, just making conversation" the commissar answered calmly. They stepped to the side to let a chimera troop transport drive by, its engine drowning out the conversation. The heavy tracks throwing up dust in its wake. He then continued, "if the attack tonight had been yours, what would your plan and conclusion be."

"A common enough thought experiment." Sannita answered carefully, the continuous changing of subject not at all to her liking. "We attacked first so I'll assume they see us as a technologically superior foreign force that landed on their doorstep. If it had been me, I would have sent an expendable contingent to feel the waters. Without showing my hand but strong enough to determine the discrepancies between the forces."

The commissar nodded. "That was my conjecture as well, but to have it confirmed by someone as skilled as yourself is expedient."

Was that a compliment? She glanced at the commissar, but he gave no clue to his thoughts. They started climbing up the central hilltop where the command centre was being set up. There where fresh stairs almost to the top but the rockcrete was not yet solid enough.

"Are you saying that the enemy has just tested us, and that the 'real' attack is coming?" Sannita asked.

"I'm not here for military strategy" the commissar stated. "I killed some of your men tonight" the commissar continued, changing subject yet again.

Sannita felt her blood freeze and almost stopped climbing. "It won't happen again, I will make sure of it!" she declared with force. "It was not worthy of the First."

The commissar had stopped when she answered. She looked back at him. His face unreadable but his eyes almost regretful. And then the moment had passed, and he simply nodded and climbed past her. They were silent the rest of the way.

They had no problem finding the Mechanicus as their skitarii soldiers stood out. Their red robes, heavy augmentation and strange weapons making them stand apart from the common soldiery. Sannita had never seen them fight on the frontline, but they were supposedly something extraordinary.

The skitarii stood guard at one of the smaller entrances to the module built bunker complex on the hill. One of the larger skitarii stood in their way, unmoving as if a part of the bunker. They couldn't see his face as it was covered by an intricate metal mask with five green lenses watching them. At least Sannita hoped it was a mask, but it was probably grafted to the soldiers face permanently.

"We are here for the autopsy" Sannita said, taking the lead. "As representatives for the First."

The guard did not give any form of acknowledgement but his companions to the sides followed them with their lens-gazes, hands on their weapons. In the silence Sannita noticed the faint binaric hum coming from the guards.

After a couple of long moments, the large skitarii simple stood to the side.

"The Magos Biologis bid you enter, First Lieutenant, Commissar" he stated with a machine voice coming from a hidden speaker.

Sannita entered through the heavy metal door and the commissar followed. The bunker module was a hexagonal unfurnished room with newly arrived boxes everywhere. Servitors milled about, slowly unpacking and organising the contents and collapsible equipment.

The centre of the room was dominated by three large operating tables with dissected mutants and a the Magos Biologis who towered over them. The smell of death and innards hit Sannita. The lithe Magos was clothed in the traditional garb of the tech-priests, hooded rust red robes. A multitude of slender robotic appendages extruded from a metal backpack and they all simultaneously handled, analysed, and cut into the three corpses with frighting speed.

"First Lieutenant, Commissar" the Magos said with clear and gentle but clearly manufactured machine voice. Sannita could see a human looking face within the hood, but the mouth didn't move. "You are not accounted for, but your level of clearance makes your presence accepted."

"I thank…" Sannita started but the Magos interjected.

"Please stand idle while we await the Militaris Primus."

Sannita bit back her follow up question, they would meet this unknown commander soon enough. They stood waiting while the tech-priest took some kind of organ and put it into a liquid glass cylinder and gave it to a passing servitor as one of the appendages put the lid on. The armour and equipment of the mutants lay beneath the table in piles.

The wait was awkward but soon the heavy door was opened again. A man in black uniform entered and scrutinized the room with a scowl. His face was crossed by old scars and he was built like a whip. After him came a stunning woman in extravagant uniform, black with silver details. She had an officer's cap with some highborn crest. Everything about her was spotless and Sannita forced herself not to stare.

The Militaris Primus seemed full of confidence with her clear gaze and secure smirk. Even though she lost it for a second when the room's smell hit her. She took in the room in her stride, leaving her bodyguard at the door. Sannita got a quick glance before she was dismissed, she felt every piece of blood and dirt on her uniform.

But the woman did stop when she passed the commissar.

"Are you that regimental commissar?" the Militaris Primus asked without waiting for an answer. "I heard you killed a monster tonight and requested flamers for all the platoons on the ground."

The commissar simply nodded, as unmoved as ever Sannita thought bitterly. Some would have found it humbling that a simple walk could take her from second in command to one dismissed at a glance. But Sannita felt her inner fire ignite, this would only make her strive harder.

"This meeting is redundant" the Magos said from the tables, "as I've already sent all relevant data to designated cogitators." She continued working without looking at them, her appendages hissing and clicking ceaselessly.

The Militaris Primus gave the commissar a nod and then strode over to the tables, putting her finely gloved hands behind her back. Sannita and the commissar followed at a respectful distance.

"You did but I wanted to see these mutants for myself and hear it from you" she explained while looking over the corpses, her look one of distaste.

A strange whine that could have been a sigh came from the Magos speakers before she started explaining and gesturing with her actual hands. They were clearly cybernetics.

"I've concluded that these mutants are from quite stable stock of associated subspecies" she begun. "But even though they bear some resemblance to human anatomy, within and without, they are clearly not mutated humans but something other undefined. There is a 23% confirmation that the former colonists combined different genomes with their own to achieve this transgression to the holy human substructure. These genomes were constructed, or conceivably something local, as I can't find clear traces from naturally developed fauna."

Sannita had hard time reading the emotions behind the Magos constructed voice, but she could have sworn that there was a change in modulation when the priest started theorizing, maybe even a hint of passion. She glanced over to her two audience companions but they just nodded as if what the priest said was understandable.

"From the combined analysis of their bone density, teeth and intestine flora, I've established that they care not for a balanced diet" the Magos explained while holding an intestine turned inside out. "Their overall health could be improved by more than seventeen percent if feed correctly while maturing. Possibly it could also be an access problem caused by neglect from their masters."

"I've not enough data to conclude reproduction capabilities" the Magos continued while indicating a relevant area. "But with the science level presented, this would be probable for them to achieve their estimated numbers."

"Level of intelligence is vexing to theorize about in inanimate subjects" she continued as one of her appendages parted a sawn skull. "However, I would presume that these parts correspond to a diminished anterior insular cortex while the frontal lobe is large but without the sufficient number of affixed connections."

"Please, respectfully Magos, just stop" Sannita interrupted, feeling all eyes on her. She now understood what gibberish the major had talked about. All the Magos' appendages halted for the first time. "If put simply, what are their capabilities? What can we expect to face?"

Something inside the Magos clicked and whirred before she continued, now actually facing Sannita. The Magos' eyes were human looking like the rest of her face but had an inner shine and a glassy look to them.

"As I stated, First Lieutenant, they are constructed to have minimal empathy while their intelligence is balanced. Intelligent enough to be effective but not so much that they would make questioning soldiers."

Sannita didn't like the way the Magos looked at her but swallowed her retort.

"To simplify," the Magos continued while looking at them all. "These are not a natural race. They are not sustainable at their own and they are not created to lead or build. They are made to be subservient to their masters and vicious to everyone else. They are a failed experiment and an affront to the Omnissiah. Therefore, in my role as Magos Biologis for this expedition, I advocate for their total eradication."

§§§

Faramir remembered the dark water in the night and the panic from lack of air. He emerged from the deep sleep as if from underwater. Bright light made him grimace as spikes of headache dragged him from the depths.

He shaded his eyes with his arm and slowly sat up, his body aching and lungs hurting. He was in a bed in some strange infirmary where his was the only bed occupied. He was clothed in shirt and pants not his own, created from a thin brown fabric. He couldn't see his armour or weapons. The metal tiled walls, floor and roof was like nothing he had ever seen. And the equipment and sounds made no sense. The light from the roof was bright as the sun.

Still bewildered he saw a servant cleaning and sorting medical tools.

"Excuse me, sir" he asked. "Where am I?"

The man didn't react immediately but after a couple of moments put down the tools and turned to look at him. The man was clearly unwell, more so than Faramir. His skin was pale and he had several contraptions and fixtures on his skins which clearly created sores and infections on the man. But it was his countenance that concerned Faramir the most. The eyes were unfocused and didn't seem to see him, the head was tilted and the mouth slightly ajar.

The poor man tried to speak to Faramir, but the language was unrecognisable even discounting that the man clearly hadn't full control of his mouth.

Faramir got up from the bed to assist the man, but he had already turned back and continued his work.

Clearly, he wasn't in Gondor anymore. He had to assume the people here were hostile, as most were to Gondor, but felt his bandaged scars and wasn't fully convinced. He was probably a highborn hostage that they thought they could use for leverage. He would prove them wrong.

Silently he went for the door with one eye on the servant who supposedly didn't notice much at all. It was then Faramir noticed the steady humming in the background. Like a large dragon sleeping, at least according to the stories. He tilted his head, trying to glean a direction but the humming was omnipresent. He went down on one knew and lay a hand on the metal tiled floor. He could clearly feel the humming as vibration.

Troubled by his situation he went to the door to listen. It didn't have any obvious handle but a strange feature in the frame said something garbled and unclear before the door slid to the side, into the wall.

He took cover and peaked around quickly. There was a sizeable corridor outside with milling people and soldiers in all kinds of strange clothing. The carpeted floors and wooden wainscoting indicating the abode of someone highborn. How long must he have been unconscious for them to transport him this far from home, and who were 'they'.

Faramir made a gamble and went out into the crowd and followed the corridor trying to look as he had purpose. The people's complexion and clothes varied to such a degree that he wagered that he could be one among many. He would have to move fast to not be caught, for surely it was only a matter of time until they noticed him gone.

Everyone was going somewhere and had no time left for him. He recognised a well-oiled servant staff when he saw it. He also noticed several more of the kind of the odd fellow in the infirmary. The ones clearly looking like they needed help and shouldn't even have left their beds. They were invariably clothed in ragged, worn clothing and often stumbled when they couldn't handle the crowd. But not one person in the corridor did offer help or even gave them a second glance.

It was bizarre and made Faramir feel uncomfortable, he had always found slavery one of the worse kinds of crimes. People should have the right to choose for themselves.

But necessity had no law and he readied himself to exploit it. At last, he found what he had searched for, a hidden servant's passage behind a statue of a highborn. He followed one of the slaves through the door and found himself inside a much smaller thoroughfare. It was dimly lit and strange cabling and small metal doors were everywhere.

He continued following the slave. There were more servants and slaves passing through the servant corridor, some of the servants even nodded quick greetings to him. But he never stopped following the slave.

When they passed an alcove with no one looking, Faramir took his chance and grabbed the slave's throat with a strong arm and put a hand over the slave's mouth as he dragged them both into the alcove. His biceps bulged, ready for the fight that never came. The slave didn't even try to resist the choking and soon Faramir lowered the slave's unconscious body to the ground. It made him feel even more uneasy. What had they done to these poor souls?

With quick and efficient motions Faramir changed clothes with the slave, tensely listening for servants. He also took greasy dust from the floor and tried to paint himself to look as unhealthy and sick as the slaves did.

With a quick look out into the servant's corridor he gathered that he had some moments more and felt around the metal piping in the alcove. One of the pipes were quite loose and Faramir noisily ripped it off. Even better than he'd hoped for, the metal was brittle and one of the ends had broken off sharp and pointy. He gave it a few quick swings and stabs to get a feeling for his new weapon before hiding it in his ragged clothes.

With a last look at the poor slave sitting against the wall he stumbled out into the corridor and soon met some servants. No one noticed him at all. Perfect.

Faramir then went out into the main throughfare and started to stumble with more aim, looking for more excluded and luxurious doors and people. He would find the leaders of these people and gain some answers. He was tense the first time he passed guards but not even they blocked his path. It was like he was invisible. If they had been his rangers, they would have gotten latrine duty for a month.

The palace, for what else could it be, was even a bit stranger for its lack of windows. He supposed it could be an underground dwarven abandoned outpost, that would explain their use of metal everywhere.

Listening in at conversations in the corridors he could make out some words and even some sentences. With time he could probably figure it out, but that was time he didn't have.

He had a lucky break when he after a while smelt a large kitchen. If the experiences from infiltrating Gobel Mirlond was any indication, the safest way into the high ranks was through their stomachs. 'Caras' he corrected himself. His father hated when they didn't use the old names.

He circumvented the main ways into the kitchen through the servants' hidden passages, biding his time, looking for opportunities to come to him.

'The patient hunter as the saying goes' Faramir thought to himself as he saw a servant carrying a box from a door whose sounds indicated a kitchen. The man started unloading the contents in a wall integrated cupboard close by.

Faramir silently opened the manual kitchen door, just a bit, and surveyed the servants clothing inside. The dozens of cooks and servants that prepared the meals were all dressed in the same attire, but the servants that did leave with the plates had another uniform. The same as the one with the box behind Faramir, 'fortune favours the bold' he thought to himself but was interrupted by something being dropped behind him.

Faramir instantly tuned around and saw the servant looking directly at him with a cruel looking kitchen knife in his hand. The servant said something threatening with a scowl.

Not waiting for the situation to worsen, Faramir charged the man and in one motion drew his pipe and lunged for the knife. Apparently not a deft fighter, the servant found himself disarmed and quickly choked as Faramir aggressively grabbed his throat and pushing him up against the wall, almost lifting him.

"Ssssssshhh" Faramir hushed between clenched teeth as he put the sharp end of the pipe under the man's chin.

The mannerism of the servant was markedly less threatening as he weakly pushed at Faramir's arm while trying to get air. The man tried to say something, but Faramir had already decided. He gave the man a quick blow to the temple with the pipe. The man tried to scream and fight back but Faramir only held him harder and gave him another one. This time the man fell silent, but his eyes still moved which led to another blow.

Faramir let the unconscious servant collapse to the wall. He felt heinous and looked at his pipe with disgust. Hurting innocents. He quickly regained his focus and knelt by the man, feeling the pulse and along the temple. He would be okay, probably.

Hurriedly he hid the man further down the corridor and started to exchange clothes again. Time to visit these highborn and get some answers.

§§§

"You can't seriously propose that these abhumans present a realistic threat to the construction site?" the Arch-Militant stated with his deep voice and a dismissive gesture.

Vivian looked between the Arch-Militant and the Magos Explorator. Both men towered over her, one in a general's regalia and one even larger with his bulk hidden under his uneven rust red robes, face deep in the shadows of his hood. That together with their gravitas made her feel like a child again, but she repressed the feeling and stood proud amongst them. She had blundered into a meeting in the strategium that apparently was prolonged and more prioritized than her own appointment with her aunt Jacqueline.

The Magos Explorator gestured heavily with his staff of office, with its half cog on the top. He pointed it towards the holographic display between them that showed a pict feed of three defiant persons, standing with their arm crossed shoulder to shoulder. They seemed nothing out of the ordinary. But when a skitarii passed them in the feed, their very modest size was shown by the comparison.

"The abhumans have no defined threat designation as of this timestamp, Arch-Militant" the Magos answered with a harsh robotic voice, a bit too loud in Vivian's opinion. "Nonetheless they are a threat to the timetable of the Project. Their sabotaging of heavy machinery, theft and endless demands of audiences to needlessly protest is an affront to the Omnissiah and deemed Suboptimal Medio" a heavy clang from the staff towards the metal floor ended his statement.

Silence followed. Vivian dared a glance up towards her aunt's large throne, just outside the light from the holographic projector. As per usual she didn't interfere, only watching and listening, letting the scene play out. Never missing anything. The Captain's gaze immediately met Vivian's who turned back again, a bit too quickly. She cursed her impulses and longed for the day when she could sit on a command throne staring at underlings.

The Seneschal who also had listened at the projector took a step towards the discussion. Krishan, as Vivan, was dwarfed by the two men. He coughed a little in his hand to break the silence before he continued with his usual assured voice.

"Maybe there is a non-military solution to this matter. Even if these small people can affect our timetable disproportionally to their actual power, the compensation they crave could be the cheaper path of least resistance?"

The Magos menacingly looked down at Krishan as he answered.

"We accounted for dissatisfaction by the affected parties when we appropriated their living area for the construction, Seneschal" he stated with his robotic voice, always in the same tone. "Every affected party, not deceased due to evacuation refusal, has been granted ample compensation lasting five local years from landfall. Nevertheless, we are met with resistance not only from the affected parties, but from communities too far from the area in question to be affected. Data suggests a location named Shire to the north is a focal point of suboptimal activity." Again, the staff ended his statement.

"This 'ample compensation' you mentioned was not enough?" Vivian interjected. "How far is it from their demands?" Everyone glanced her way, without turning. She almost regretted forcing herself into the argumentation but felt her aunt's gaze on her and Vivian knew she had to continuously earn her stations as designated diplomat to the people of this world.

"These abhumans 'demand' their old homes back, Ambassador" the Magos stated. The tone was the same, but Vivian could interpret the dismissiveness.

"As decreed by the Captain" the Magos continued with a small bow in the direction of the throne. "All Imperial Citizens have the right to living space, breathable air and nourishment. By definition this is five point two cubic meters of living space and 233 grams of nutrient paste daily. Oxygen rations not relevant on this colony. As of now. These values obviously scaled down to 34% based on the abhuman average weight difference to standard template." Staff again.

Vivian stared at the Magos. Math wasn't her forte, but it sounded like less than her miniscule private shower in her ship quarters.

"And I guess there's no way to move their old houses outside of the construction area?" she tried.

She couldn't garner the reaction of the Magos, but the look she got from the Arch-Militant would give her nightmares and she heard Krishan stifle a snort.

The Magos gestured to the holographic pict feed which was immediately replaced by a rendering of the construction site. It actually took Vivian a moment to realize its actual immense size from the pinpricks that must have been Mechanicus landers. Machines large as hab blocks laid the earth bare down to the bedrock, boulders were grinded down to rockcrete and scaffolding rose up almost to ground level. Whole towns and communities of the abhumans could probably fitted in the central site alone and even in the zoomed out pict feed Vivian could see that the area was flash burned for as far as the pict feed rendered.

Vivian was lost for words but was saved by the Captain who at last joined the discussions.

"Gentlemen, please excuse us. My niece needs me a couple of minutes." she simply said in her slow way, savouring each word. "Vivian darling, come join me."

The Arch-Militant gave a perfect salute while the Magos again inclined his head in the throne's direction. Vivian left them at the display and moved over to the throne. It was hard to see her aunt in the gloom. But her hard eyes, her overt makeup, and her stiff posture were clearly discernible.

Krishan passed Vivian and took a place at the side of the throne, some steps down. She stopped at the foot of the throne's steps and bowed.

"My Captain."

"Why so formal dearest?" her aunt asked slowly and gestured for Vivian to come closer.

"Uh, I…" Vivian started as she hesitantly ascended but was promptly interrupted.

"I've heard rumours about you having made contact with the largest remnant of the former colony and tried broken peace with their greatest enemy."

"That's correct" Vivian begun as she gave Krishan a glance, his face unreadable in the gloom. "I did…"

"I also heard that you failed on first impressions," the Captain interrupted again. "Which is quite impressive when they are medieval while you have access to spaceships. And you let a psyker loose against their leader's wishes. And couldn't even find anyone wanting to negotiate peace with, from either side."

Vivian closed her open mouth and noticed she had stopped with a foot on the next step. She retracted it and would have silently cursed the Seneschal if she hadn't been trying to find her way out of the predicament.

"And kidnapped a prince" Krishan interjected with a bow towards the Captain.

"Yes." The Captain said while gazing down at her niece, not even blinking. "That also. Your diplomatic strategy is… peculiar."

"My Capt… aunt Jacqueline" Vivian started, trying to keep both her voice and composure steady. Back straight, chin up, eyes at the Captain. "I'm glad I know you don't listen to unbased lower deck rumours and can happily contradict them with my actual report. The first phase of my plan to establish ourselves as the dominant partner for all remnants of the former colony is going exactly as I've foreseen." She found confidence in her own voice and started to pace along the step and gesticulated to hide her tremors.

"I haven't grovelled in front of these medieval peasants, as some would have." She happened to gesture in Krishan's direction. "I haven't flaunted our technological prowess in case there's a threat left from the old colony, as some would have. Instead, I've established ourselves as a valuable partner while simultaneously deciphering their language to fluency and gathering everything they know about the former colony. I don't know why the rumours mentioned a peace negotiation, I was only seeking opportunities in the tumult, which I found and brought to you." Vivian finished by bowing to the Captain. "And the opportunity, the prince, is of course not kidnapped but an honoured guest which I personally saved the life of to gain influence and a local ally. Which I now can use for phase two."

There was a long pause while the Captain continued looking down at Vivian without giving any hint of emotion.

"And what is this phase two" the Captain asked at last.

Vivian blinked as her heart and mind raced.

"Food" she blurted.

"Food?" the Captain repeated even more slowly than usual.

"Yes, food." Vivian answered, she felt she was blinking too much. "Gondor has some of the best arable land on the continent, populated by already organised farmers and located quite close to the future hive. All they need is mechanisation and they can be a safe and stable food source for the colony, your colony aunt Jacqueline, which can bring our timetable forwards years." Vivian smiled sweetly and tried ignoring the sweat she felt creeping down her back.

The Captain turned a fraction towards her Seneschal.

"Well… she is not wrong" Krishan commented after a brief pause.

"Then it's decided" the Captain said and waved the matter away. "I have more relevant business for you to attend." She leaned slightly forwards. "The secrets of the tower. I want them" she said slowly.

"The tower?" Vivian said while trying to follow the change in subject. "Was the risk of corruption not deemed too great?"

Her aunt snorted and leaned back again, giving another dismissive wave.

"The possibility has been weighted" Krishan stated, "and dismissed." He dared a glance at the Captain before he continued. "The mutants are fabricated and stable. The Choir has identified some psychic protection but no proof of chaotic taint. Nothing unnatural that can't be explained has been encountered."

"But the darkness?" Vivian tried. "I could see it even as I flew half a continent away."

"The Magos Explorator has done some assessments" Krishan explained easily "and concluded that the most likely cause is that the ash spewed from the active volcano contains loaded metal particles that combined with the mountain range contained weather patterns creates the self-reinforcing phenomena."

Vivian contained her doubt. She knew nothing about metal ash weather, but she knew her aunt's reputation for nay-sayers and cowards.

"Wasn't it something reported about a screaming ghost armour?" she said, thinking of the battle she witnessed in the city.

"Enough of this" the Captain interjected with a slow harsh voice. "I had a minute for your mission, dearest niece. You have already gotten it and important subjects require my attention. The tower's owner is called Sauron. I don't want his secrets destroyed by the Guard so do your job and get him to reveal them willingly."

The Captain turned her face away from Vivian and Krishan and waved her away but Vivian steeled herself and held her ground. Hoping the gloom hid her nervousness.

"Aunt Jacqueline, what is my mandate?"

The Captain looked back to her slowly. "Use your brain, 'girl'" she said with emphasis, even slower than before. "Promise what you will, it matters not. This Sauron will be discarded once he reveals his secrets."

Vivian bowed deeply and backed down from her aunt, feeling feverish but relieved.

When she went back towards the projector, Krishan came up alongside her. She smiled easily at him to hide her disgust for his underhandedness but also to hide her own tenseness. The Game had increased in intensity since they reached the new world.

"I just wanted to clarify some limitations to your mandate," Krishan told her "for you not to risk embarrassing yourself by promising too much to this Sauron. If you like I could also offer some pointers for how to negotiate something of this weight as I've got the relevant experience."

Vivian stopped and turned to him, ignoring his veiled insults and making sure no one in the strategium was close enough to overhear.

"I take it you would have preferred being the one chosen for…" she trailed off looking over Krishan's shoulder.

For the fraction of a second, she had seen through the closing double doors. The last of some servants had been stooped by the guards and she could have sworn it was the prince that was two floors down in a medically induced coma. It would have been absurd, but the eventual embarrassment of losing control of a local on the ship would disown her with her already lacking reputation in this court. Impossible or not she couldn't take the risk.

Krishan followed her stare to the closed door, but she interjected before he had a chance to comment.

"I remembered I'm late to a secondary meeting about… food" she blurted and left him where he stood. Leaving for the door in a controlled pace as she armed her rings discretely.

She quickly opened the door a fraction and slipped out, ready for anything and hoping for nothing.

It was even worse than she was afraid of.

It was the prince, in quite ill-fitting servants clothing of all things. He should be weak, disoriented and half comatose if anything. But instead, he held one guard in an iron choke hold while the other was on his knees gurgling with a hand over his throat. The guard being choked was beginning to turn blue while the other tried to aim his pistol. Vivian knew he would shoot the prince through his comrade without a second's hesitation.

"What are you doing?" she said aggressively in hushed tones to them all, closing the door behind her. "Release him" she added to the prince in his language. Slowly he relaxed his grip, recognition in his eyes as he looked at her.

"Assassin" the guard on his knees got out from his broken throat in a hoarse whisper. "He isn't ship registered, my lady."

Vivian laid a hand on his gun and lowered it, even though she first had to give him a stern look for him to cooperate.

"Of course, he isn't registered" she said, still hushed. "He is a representative from the old colony, I brought him myself." She helped the man to his feet. "For your own sake, don't ever mention that you assaulted this poor man" she said while gesturing to the physically imposing prince. Everyone looked confused. The choked man took some steps away and breathed heavily with a hand on his holster.

"But he…" the guard at her side tried in the same hushed tones as her, gesturing at the prince's cloathes but she held up a finger to silence him.

"Never happened, my Lady" the other man agreed instead, while straightening.

She nodded to them both sternly while memorising their uniform's collar numbers, she would have to deal with them sooner rather than later. She gestured to the prince to follow her down the corridor.

"Come here, lord," she said in his language. "and I will explain everything." Still confused, but looking confident in himself, the prince followed.

"I'm Ambassador Vivian" she presented herself when he got up beside her. She hadn't even known she had an official title before the meeting she realized, it sounded amazing. And there was so much information and changes she had to internalize to prioritize the moment. First impressions were crucial.

"I'm Lord Faramir, captain of the Ithilien Rangers" he said simply. They both held a royal cool as if this meeting was nothing extraordinary as they walked down the corridor. Not even the servants clothing seemed to diminish him. He said nothing more as if goading Vivian to give away too much. A well-chosen strategy she admitted.

"I came to the battle at the river" Vivian said.

"Your entrance was hard to miss."

Their path led them out into the wider throughfares, but people parted as she led the way in her white uniform.

"The steward of Gondor sent us to your aid" she continued. The lie garnered a slight reaction at least but he didn't answer. "Too bad we were a bit too late to negotiate a cease fire."

"Who are you people?"

"Númenóreans according to the steward, but 'the Imperium' in our language" Vivian explained. "We are here to reclaim the colony and save your Gondor from its peril. For I presume Ithilien is part of Gondor?"

His answer was silence. Damn this man. Maybe she had misjudged after all and should drop him off planetside. But something about him she couldn't put her finger on told her that her gut feeling was correct. He was the key.

"You lie well, but you are not Númenórean?" Faramir said with certainty after a while. "Where am I?" He demanded, with threatening undertones. His towering over her wasn't comforting but her still armed rings were.

"Your way to treat potential allies and the disrespectful tone towards me, who saved your life in the river, is quite ill-mannered" Vivian countered, not letting him gain the initiative.

"Gondor would never ally anyone who enslaves and treats their people this way" Faramir said with force and gestured. It took some moments for Vivian to register that it was one of the passing female servitors he indicated.

"The servitor?" She said, still not sure. "She is no slave. She is just a servitor, she just… is."

Faramir actually stopped beside her. Vivian didn't really follow why the servitor garnered such an emotional response. The people in the throughfare went around them.

"We don't practice slavery" Vivian tried to explain. "These servitors have no mind, they are empty. Even a dog or a workhorse would be closer to human." She hoped he recognised the animals prevalent on most colonies.

"Are you saying you take their souls?" Faramir said, perplexed and horrified. "To make them your tools? What have they done to deserve this fate and how do you know that there isn't something of them left, trapped?"

The questions horrified Vivian too. She didn't even register servitors most of the time but understood the potential for culture chock.

"No no no." Vivian said with her hands up. "They are former criminals and misfits that undermined the Imperium, of course they deserve no sympathy. But the tech priests help their souls pass on while their bodies continue working of their debt to society." She took him lightly by the arm and led him down a side corridor. Time for a change of tactics.

Faramir looked unconvinced but accepted her lead. She noticed Tartor in the crowd not far off. Her pulse increase earlier at the small crisis must have alerted him. It was impressive for such a large man to melt into the crowd. She wondered if he'd followed them the whole time. She discreetly deactivated her rings with deft finger movements.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot, lord Faramir" she began as she led him out into one of the starboard observation domes. "I'm convinced that with time you will realize that the Imperium's arrival is the solution to all your people's problems. We will end the external threats, share our technology and bring in a new age of prosperity and cooperation for all humankind" she finished her grand words with equal gestures towards the planet below.

He looked agitated from her to the planet below. It took some seconds before his eyes widened and all other was forgotten. Below them Gondor was clearly visible from the Righteous Flame's geosynchronous orbit. Even if the human settlements were too small to notice, Faramir could still recognise the daylight lit landscape between the slowly moving clouds, like a living map.

"That…" Faramir started but his words failed him. "This is no map, is it?" he asked at last.

Vivian kept her growing smile under control.

"As Ambassador for the Imperium of Man I greet you, lord of Gondor, and guarantee you we come in peace."

He looked slowly from his home over to her. She could see his mind racing as it tried to comprehend everything.

"We have so much to discuss" she said with warmth. "And I'm convinced you'll love the possibilities we can offer each other. But right now, I've a prioritized meeting scheduled with Gondor's intrusive neighbour, lord Sauron of Mordor. Do you have some conversation topics to soften him up in the negotiations?"

§§§

"Buorg" the Captain said when the strategium was at last empty after hours of reports and planning. A thin man emerged from the shadows behind the throne and stepped into the blue light of the hololithic projector.

"Yes, my Captain" he said and bowed deeply, matching her slow words.

The projector changed from the 3D map of the southern icecaps and turned into a model of a lone tower surrounded by a low wall. The man turned and studied it as it slowly rotated.

"This is not the tower by the volcano. It's far too small." He stated while inspecting the lone door and few windows. "But there are clear signs of early industrialisation and even a quite sizeable dam. Used for powering machinery I assume." He continued thoughtfully.

He turned to the Captain. "You have found another remnant I presume, my Captain. What is your will."

The Captain considered him from the gloom.

"We are trying the soft approach in the east" she begun. "Let's also try some more direct methods. Take your… 'crew' and do your thing, Buorg."

The thin man bowed deeply, yet again.

"I will not disappoint you, my Captain. There will be no witnesses."