"Omnisia, Major, what happened to you?!" Milandra weared a rather simplistic spring dress allowing for her massive cybernetic limbs to move freely. She was fresh out of the shower, probably still accustomed to her space ship's life cycle.

The room she occupied in the PDF headquarters was spartan, yet spacious enough for her to turn it into a lab and listening station. Olenk kept her injured arm clutched against her chest and squeezed by the much taller tech priest. "I met Jan Rey."

Milandra noticed the major's damaged limb and cringed, "You need to see a Medicae, Major, this is a severe injury."

Olenk beelined to the liquor cabinet, noticing only the sweet alcohols had been touched, and fetched a sizeable jug of rice vodka. She struggled with the lid for a moment, but Milandra took the liquor away.

"I…" Olenk went to protest, but the Magos uncorked the bottle with ease and handed it back. "Thanks."

Olenk slumped to the floor and drank a long swig of the foul liquid, stopping only to choke or bark short laughs.

Milandra patiently watched the Major down half the bottle in the course of ten minutes. She noted intense tremors running through the injured woman's body. Her jaw muscles spasmed uncontrollably, causing her teeth to clatter.

"I got him." Olenk finally spoke, chuckling. "I got the rotten son of a bitch." With that, she pulled a crude blade from her belt and held it up in a fashion that had Milandra jump in fright, ready to step in and prevent the Major from doing anything stupid.

But she just held it up at arm's reach, waiting for Milandra to react. The Magos took a closer look. Depleted uranium alloy, very rare, especially on Baria, a planet devoid of such material.

More importantly, it was covered in blood.

"Is that blood…" A stupid question. "Is that his blood."

Olenk laughed, "Yeah-ehp." Milandra picked up the blade with the utmost care, "So, no uranium on Baria, yeah?"

The other nodded, then frowned. This was no question. "Why?"

Olenk tried to get another shot of vodka, but missed and poured it all over her t-shirt. "We stopped using these blades 'cause rebels could pick up their unique radiation signature or something like that. They could even pick out soldiers who'd touched them in a crowd. Snipers went wild…" She heaved a deep sigh and cringed as her breast brushed against her broken arm, "I stuck that thing in him and kept it there a whole minute. Is that enough for you to track him?"

Radioactive marking. Imperial satellites were designed to detect sub-visual radiations, to prevent fissile materials from making it on the black market. With some adjustments, they could easily follow residual radiations on Jan Rey.

"How are you only PDF?" Spoke the Magos, stunned.

"Medical exam uncovered a severe case of vagina, I'm afraid."

Before getting to work, Milandra made sure to call a medical team for the now deeply intoxicated Major.

Space Wolf Frigate Wolf's Cloak.

"Weapons calibration test in five minutes…" Captain Aaros stifled a yawn, "All hands brace for the same thing as the last twenty tests."

Brother Ulfizias, lead Tech Marine of the vessel, shook his head and tapped a few commands into his cogitator. "You would not be here if it were not for that attitude, brother."

"I would not be me, were it not for that attitude."

Aaros shifted his heavy synthetic wolf cloak and pulled a strip of meat jerky from a paper wrap in his breast pocket. He offered some to the Tech Marine, who declined.

Just as he was about to take a bite out of it, however, a shrill sound jumped through the vox tubes on his left, startling both marines for a moment. The ship's astropath blurted an apology, then added "Lady Lleihm-Bonafont is requesting our aid to protect trade interests."

Ulfizias snorted at that, "Unless she speaks with the authority of the Imperium, tell her to find mercenaries."

But Aaros quickly disagreed, "Hold, do not reply." He turned to the Tech Priest, "Do you know who that woman is?"

The other nodded, "Cadian noble, deals in food and services."

"She's owns more trade routes than we own bolter rounds…" He raised his strip of jerky for emphasis, "if her trade interests are in danger, that means our food supplies, raw materials and most of our income may be at risk."

"Are you saying we should intervene without consulting with the home monastery first?"

With a smile, Aaros bit into the jerky and, chewing loudly, said "This is not my first time lending her a hand, it is simple politics, not an Ork infestation; she will most likely need us to look threatening and drown us in mead until the conflict is resolved."

The Tech Marine sucked in a deep breath, "We would be protecting the chapter's interests?"

"You bet, the Lleihm-Bonafont estate has been a steadfast friend of the Space Wolves for centuries now."

"Mead, you say?"

"Whole vats of it."

Both men shared a smile.

Cadia

Lleihm-Bonafont Estate

The page was out of breath, wheezing and coughing, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his face. "La… Lady Caprice." He spoke, not daring look at the heiress in her workout outfit. "Throne of Terra, M'lady, who taught you to climb like that?"

She decided to use this opportunity to boost the popular opinion of Jan, "My fiancé, this free-running is one of his passions." She motioned to the horizon, "How often have you seen this kind of spectacle?"

They stood atop one of Cadia's natural archs, overlooking the Tremors' Sea just as the Eye of Terror was about to vanish behind the waves, the sun rising at their backs. Not a sign of civilization unless you turned and faced the Bonafont's shipping compound. The salty winds stroked both their faces, warm and flagrant.

It looked like a painting of a sunset by a color blind artist. Green waves mixed with purple, a blue sky laced with blood red and grey clouds lit up with red from the inside.

The nervous boy choked, the view had almost made him forget his short breath.

"Did you need something?" Asked Lady Caprice, smiling with that faked innocence she had mastered recently.

"The Captain…" He wheezed, "He wants to… Make sure… You want three hundred of… These? And we should fill half the water supplies with… Uh… Here." He handed her the shipping manifest, printed on a plastic sheet.

She read it diagonally, "Yes, that appears correct. Tell him he's late already, if he feels he is not up for the task, I will gladly ask someone to replace him…" She grinned menacingly, "Tell him you'll get the job."

The page paled and swallowed with difficulty, "As you wish, Lady Caprice… Can I ask…"

"Why the meat and alcohol?" He nodded, "Why do dogs love you?"

He fidgeted, "Dogs hate me, m'lady."

"Regrettable. But why do they obey their masters? What motivates their loyalty?"

He thought about it a little. Though older than Caprice, the boy had no education to speak of, his spirit was underused and weak compared to hers. "They view us as pack leaders?"

Caprice nodded, "Yes, because we know where the food is. Dogs would die for us because we're the ones with the food. They could get it themselves, hunt, but it's easier to just get it from us."

He nodded, "So, you're going to tame dogs with this?"

Her smile dropped, though traces of humor remained in her eyes, "Wolves, actually."