Aaaaaaand its out! *Yells in triumph* This chapter has been particularly problematic, mostly because a accidentally lost a third of it and so had to rewrite it. Now that its out though, ENJOY! :D

Chapter 3,

A Whole New World

When we returned back to apartments, Uncle Cyrus gave me sleeping pills. I think he wanted me to be awake and aware when he told me about his office, his position, and my own future purpose.

I fell asleep not long after drinking it.

I gaze at my diary entry, and at the frindle next to it. Sighing, I lean into the comfy recliner. Writing that diary entry is allowing me to finally organize all the messy thoughts and emotions that have been flying around in my head.

Which is good. Because I have a lot to do before Cyrus comes back.

I lean forcefully back into my chair, doing a quick stretch before strutting back to my room.

My suitcase is still partially unpacked. I had stopped the moment I found my diary book and frindle. I place them on my bed before going back to unpacking.

It takes me some time to unpack, I don't have many personal belongings, but I had tried to take anything of use during the short few hours I was allowed to stay at my parent's hab-unit.

About an hour later, I finish. Now my suitcase is empty, and is placed beneath my bed. On the bed is a pile of clothes, still folded. Most of it is mundane, a mix of coveralls, jeans, and tunics, with the occasional blouse. There are a few exceptions though, namely my jet black schola robes, and the gloriously white long sleeved coat. I remember using it during the maintenance weeks of the hive heater vents.

Next to it is my undergarments. Plain white. All of them.

What is surprising though, is the amount of paraphernalia I'd apparently packed. A stack of dataslates now resides on the small desk. Most of them were father's, instructional dataslates on law enforcement and the like. I was planning to sell them.

There are also two other leather bound books, both journals of my parents. Next to it is my mother's rusted and modest makeup tin, along with a small mirror of reflective metal.

A forlornly small amount of canvasses were kept at the far corner of the room – the dyed paintings of my grandmother.

Lastly, there was father's personal nightstick, next to the pillow.

I sit on the bed, wondering what I should do next.

Well, maybe I should go through the dataslates, find out which ones I should sell and which ones I'll keep. It should fetch a heftier price on this agri-world then at Hive Redsand, give me a bit of money to spend until Uncle could find those chip scanners.

Or I could read the dataslate he left on the table. Yup, better do that.

A few moments later, I am back at my comfy sanctuary on the lounger. The thick and rectangular dataslate is in my hand. It was still off, as I have not recited the proper prayers. It was a baseline dataslate, one that could only be used for reading, but not writing. Back in Flavius, we called them V-Types, as it was only for 'viewing'.

Nonetheless, it still deserved veneration, for it possessed a machine-spirit. I start my prayer, one of the very first taught to us adepts-in-training.

"O honored Machine Spirit, awaken. Awaken before this Servant, and let us fulfill our duties to Humanity." I respectfully intone.

As I finish the Supplication of Awakening, my thumb presses down at the button engraved with the circle and line, the rune of activation.

The monitor comes alive with visual static, before suddenly flickering off. I smile patiently, used to this occurrence. After reorienting itself from its slumber, the machine spirit manifests once more, and the display blinks back on, this time steady and collected.

The display blackground is greenish, indicating that the dataslate is of good quality. I am directly presented to the main interface panel. Below the slightly less green picture of the Aquila, there was only one datafile.

=The Adeptus Terra – Summary=

The Adeptus Terra? I quickly skim through the document.

Well, it seems readable. Much more so then the instructional datafiles I had to read back at Flavius. The names of numerous adeptus filter through my mind. Most are recognizable, including the Adeptus Arbites and Administratum, but I confess that apart from those two, I really know next to nothing about all the other adeptus, apart from general knowledge.

I start reading the document, quickly finding out that it wasn't just a summary, it was something more. Intrigued, I became more intent on it.

The Administratum

The Administratum is the bureaucratic hand of the Adeptus Terra. It's leader, aptly named the "Master of the Administratum", has a permanent seat in the Senatorium Imperialis, or as it is more commonly known, the High Lords of Terra.

Throughout the holy dominion of the God-Emperor, veritable masses of adepts toil and serve, in the tens of trillions, all under the etched symbol of the Administratum. Through their vigilant and tireless endeavors, countless reports, records, and forms are recorded, sorted and filed.

Its most important responsibilities include the measuring, and later ensuring, the flow of Tithes and Tribute from more than a million planets; The regulation and recording of voidspace trade and transactions; And the control of the supply lines for both food, war materiel, and all other common products vital to the Imperium of Man.

To say that the task of the Administratum is monumental and endless would not be an understatement. In turn though, with it's great responsibilities, comes great power. The Administratum has the right to reject any planetary governor, should it feel that he has failed to fulfill his or her obligations. With its influence over both the supply and trade lanes, the power it wields cannot be understated. The fact that it directly governs (i.e: directly appoints the planetary governor) many Agri and Mining worlds only seems to further underscore its importance. Some Imperial scholars have gone so far as to claim that the Administratum itself is the most powerful Adeptus in the Adeptus Terra. For example, Vorleuz Cant, honoured Professor Primaris of Centauri Universariate once stated:

"The Administratum is the master puppeteer of the Imperium. True, it is often clumsy and forgetful, and the other Adeptus might chafe and rage at the strings attached to them, but should those strings be cut, they shall fall limp and crumble."

This quote humorously points out not just how vital the Administratum is, but also the general air of suspicion and distrust other Adeptus view it in. It must also be remembered that it is the Administratum, not the Imperial Guard, which commands the elite military formations of the Tempestus Scions (also colloquially known as the Stormtroopers).

There are, however, limitations and weaknesses inherit within the Administratum. In fact, the previous quote has already alluded to it. "Clumsy and Forgetful". What? Why? Because no matter how potent the Administratum is, in the end of the day, it is still the bureaucratic arm of the Adeptus Terra. Its greatest strength as well as its worst downfall, the Admini…

"So, did you enjoy reading the dataslate?" I ask, directing a calm smile at the obviously uncomfortable Winter.

"I… Well, I read it." She mumbles, her eyes pointedly staring at floor.

"Well, so what do you think about it?" I reword my question. No eye contact is a red flag.

"Well, well… it was inter- it was different…" She mumbles something. I hope it wasn't the word 'heretical'. Changing that type of perspective would be tough.

I decide to kick the word out of her.

"Different? Winter, I know they teach diction and vocab classes in adept scholas, and so far I fail to see its impact in this conversation."

Technically, a glare does count as eye contact.

"So, was it 'illuminating'?"

"Well, I guess, but -" She breaks eye contact again.

"Boring?"

"No, it's, it's kind of –"

"Provocative and dangerous?"

"Yes! Exact – Uh, I mean, Uncle, I don't mean to imply anything." She looks up from the floor, her face clearly telegraphing her inner conflict. "I'm just not sure the Arbites would appreciate this type of writing." She finishes mutely.

Ah, so she was worried about me. Hadn't expected her to think that far. She must have been trying to approach the subject delicately.

Conflict management, she needs work on that. Promising enough though.

"Don't worry Winter, I'm not a heretic nor a recidivist." I say, grinning.

"That's not the problem Uncle…" She says, slowly articulating her words. "I mean, Father used to talk to me about the problems in the Imperium all the time, but having it on a dataslate?" She gingerly waves the dataslate I had assigned her to read. "This could lead to trouble."

Wait, Baker expressed anti-Imperial sentiments? For the first time in the conversation I feel concern.

"What did he tell you?" I voice the question nonchalantly, keeping my calm to bolster Winter's.

"I'm not supposed to tell people about it."

"Winter, I doubt my brother is a provocateur, but still, it'll be nice to know what exactly he told you about. I am your guardian after all."

She is silent, and I stay silent as well. I am about to change the topic when she finally opens up.

"Well… he had all these stories about how corrupt the Hive Oligarchy was, and how each district council was being slowly filled by representatives who supported it."

I smile, insinuating our shared blood had done its trick.

"He hated the fact that the enforcer cadres couldn't do anything to stop the rot. He told me about how he once participated in an Arbites anti-smuggling campaign, out of the twenty-five warehouses they raided, more then half were under the guard of the local enforcers."

"Your Father, he was under one of the Arbites Auxiliary units, correct?"

"Yes, it was an enforcer unit directly supervised by the Adeptus Arbites. That's why he liked working there – the Arbitrators kept it clean. At the same time though, he disliked how… apolitical the Arbites were."

"Baker disliked the Arbites policy of non-intervention?"

"Well, y-yes. The Arbitrators only cared if you were breaking the Imperial Law, so the Oligarchy could do whatever it wanted so long as they made sure that they only meddled with the planetary government. Father always said by the time the Oligarchy started to mess with the Imperium, entire purges would be needed to cleanse the rot. At least."

I nod. "Yes, sadly, the Dictates Imperialis does not consider corruption or political murder within the confines of the planetary government to be a crime against the Imperium. Do you agree with him? That sometimes the Imperium is geared to intervene too late?"

She bobs her head slightly.

"Then you've been blessed by the Emperor. Proactive intervention is exactly what the Mediatorum is all about." She eyes me cautiously, still unsure. "Winter, open that datafile again, and scroll to the bottom of the script."

She does so. "Do you see the symbol that comes before the Aquila?"

"Yes, I was wondering what it was."

"Do you understand the motto it bears?"

"Tenetes Sanctum Lucis?" Her lips crease into a frown. "Something about 'the holy light'"

"Holding The Holy Light, Tenetes Sanctum Lucis. That motto, and the symbol above it, of a robed figure holding a glowing globe on his left hand, and a gilded sword embalmed in scrolls in his right, whose is it?"

She shrugged.

I lean forward to emphasize what I'm going to say next. "This is the emblem of the Saint Lomarian Universariate. It's a renown learning institution, and is attended by the children of high ranked individuals within the Imperial Hierarchy. Including the sons and daughters of prominent nobles, Planetary Governors, or even Lords." I point at the dataslate "What you just read was a preface to their class on the Imperial Government and Politics."

Her eyes go wide. She glances at the dataslate on the table.

"Quite a step forward from an adept boarding schola, isn't it?"

"Sure is."

I clasp my hands, and establish eye contact with her. She holds it. "Times have changed Winter, both for you and the Imperium. Hell, even the galaxy. As an Adept, you were expected to serve in ignorance, unburdened by the complexity of the bigger picture. You were to have a small focus, and be good at it."

"As a Shadow though, you are to understand politics, understand culture and its influence, understand cause and effect. You must be ready for the present, be prepared for future, and learn the impacts of the past… all this in a planetary, or even sectorial, scale."

I cough. "By the way, you're still expected to be good at it."

She scoffs, I laugh.

"You're promising, you know." I add.

"Thanks for the boost."

"I mean it. You come from a unique family under unique circumstances. You're mother was an adept, your father part of the local law enforcement, but interacted regularly with Imperial officials. You might have been sent to an Adept schola, but I'll eat my shoe if Baker didn't try to hammer his perspective of life into you. You're much more inquisitive and flexible than half the people I meet."

At this she smiles. "I guess that's true."

"It is. Now let's get back to the topic. What was the most common aspect within the Adeptus Terra that caused the most inter-adeptus conflict?"

"Sometimes their responsibilities aren't clear, and they have a lot of secondary responsibilities that are… well, circumstantial, and it clashes with the primary responsibilities of others."

"Good answer. Yes, the biggest cause of problems within the Adeptus Terra is overlapping areas of jurisdiction. Do you know what jurisdiction is?"

"To have authority over something."

"Correct, and the reason why they continue to function is because they are dependent on each other. Interdependency. Now lets go through each of the Adeptus and discuss them…"

"Oh hello! Why aren't ya a looker, young lady!" Says the barista behind the counter. "Waddya want, some recaff black-o or r-tea greenie?"

I walk forward, trying to keep my face from crunching up. I currently feel socially constipated.

I mean, seriously? Good job Winter, you grasp the basics. Now go downstairs and find out more about the current events. So I understood the gist of the datafile, therefor I must be able to interview people? How in the warp did that logic work?

"I'm not sure… what's the common buy?" I say, keeping my Uncle's words of wisdom as close to me as possible.

First, realize that you stand out. You look like a foreigner, so don't try to hide it, it'll look suspicious. If they think you're hiding something from them, people tend not to want to tell you much either. Nor do you flaunt it; just simply acknowledge that you're different.

Try to portray yourself in a way that will make them want to tell you things. You'll figure it out. If you fail with that crowd, there's another recaff shop two blocks away.

"Ah, new to here, are ya?" Says the barista. "You good with recaffs?"

"Yes to both, but I've always stuck with light recaffs." I say after giving it a moment of thought.

"Sweet, bitter, or sour?"

"Just sweet, usually." I sit myself on one of the high stools at the mini-bar.

At that, she immediately pours hot water into a cylindrical container, and then tips a pitcher filled with rich brown liquid into it. "If that's so, I'll fix up a Mild-Brownie for ya."

She stirs the water in the container furiously, and less then a half-minute later, my cup of 'mild-brownie' is served.

I sip it. The warm liquid was sweet and had the slightest hint of bitterness, along with a weird but invigorating foreign taste.

"Excuse me, but what's in this?"

One of her eyebrows rises. "The usual stuff you put in an M-Brownie."

"Well, I know there's sugar since its sweet, and recaff since its bitter, but there's something else that really makes this feel rich and grainy."

"That's the gruns that you're describing there!" She says, tilting her head. "You know, gruns!"

I shake my head.

"Wow, you really are clueless are ya?" She whistles. "Where d'ya come from? The Outer Islands?"

"Actually, I'm an off-worlder." I admit apologetically.

She gasps, quickly covering her mouth. "So that hair ya have, it's – "

"Totally natural, bequeathed by the God-Emperor." I joke, fast becoming used to the fascination my hair commanded.

"Ah, and here I thought, 'What a queer youngster, dyeing her hair to look older'." Her head turns to away from me. "Wavy! Come here, we've got an off-worlder!"

"Really!? Cannae see her?" Turning my head to the source of the exclamation, I see a brown haired girl. Bespectacled but clearly my age, she stopped right in front of me, eying me in wonder.

"Hi, my name is Winter." I greet, hastily giving her a small bow.

"Oh," She hesitates for some reason, before suddenly stepping forward and catching me in a light embrace. "My naeme is Waverly, but ya can call me Wavy."

"Oh… ok." I say, not really sure how to react. I'm pretty sure I'm blushing now.

The barista laughed merrily, "Wavy, you remember what old Luskins said about culture and all that?"

"Huh?" Waverly covers her mouth so fast it almost sounds like a slap. "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, I fergot all about tha different way people greet each other." She looks extremely embarrassed.

"It's no problem. Its not everyday an off-worlder drops in. Doesn't give a lot of practice material, doesn't it?" I sooth, wondering how I'd steer this towards the problems Uncle wanted me to research.

"Aye, no kidding bout that. Luskins is pretty much tha only one that ever comes here, and its been weeks since he last stopped over." She finally takes a seat next to me. "Say, the world you come from, what's it like?"

"Hope you don't mind Wavy's questions dearie, she just moved in here from the countryside a few months ago. Everything's a fascination for her."

A gruff male voice interrupted me before I could answer. "Yeah, ya've got that right, it's not right ta be so warm an friendly ta tha very people tha got us in this miserable hole ta begin with."

"Derek, come on! No politics here! Can't you see she's barely older than Wavy?" Chided the barista, as the unfriendly male took a high stool two spaces away from me, not bothering to introduce himself.

"It's not just politics Millie. Not when it's pushed so much farmers inta landlessness and forced em ta live in cesspits like this." He gestures at Waverly. "Wavy's lucky, an ya know it, she doesnae' have ta work in any of the mills or foundries like some of my nieces do."

"That's not tha point. I know Erika's sick an all, but that's no reason ta dump it all on Winter here." Millie retorts, for some reason thickening her accent.

"Oh, there's a reason alright!" Derek yells, throwing a glare at me.

"Lassie, why are yer parents here?" He asks, a sneer forming on his weathered face.

"I'm – I'm here with my uncle." I answered, not wanting to talk about my parents.

"Derek…"

"What's he doing here?" He ploughs on, uncaring of Millie's warning.

"He's with the Administratum." I reply with the first thing that comes into mind.

"Ha!" Derek points an accusing finger at me. "Administratum! Half of Farsight is starving cuz of bastards like yer uncle, you know that? Why don't you tell him to get his thieving arse off our backs, eh?"

"DEREK! That's enough! Shut yer yap or get out!" Millie shouted, slamming down a tankard like a gavel.

"Fine, I'll drink somewhere else." He gets up to leave, but stops short of the door. "Lassie, why are ya with yer uncle? Are yer parents too busy shopping at Gabrea City?"

"My parents are dead."

I don't want to look at him, so I just stare at the floor. I hear the slamming of the door not much later though.

What I feel next is a hug, tighter this time. It is Waverly, who had been silent for must of the exchange. I could see the droplet of tears forming on the tip of her closed eyes. I awkwardly return the gesture.

"Sorry about that, Derek used to be really nice, but he's under a lot of pressure right now." Millie says, her accent now much lighter.

"It's alright, I'm with my uncle now anyway. So everything's fine." I reply, "Um, actually, I was wondering what was wrong here. I mean, yesterday, the diner we were eating in got shot up by someone."

"Wait, you were there? At Centrali Street?" Waverly said, relinquishing her embrace.

I nod, giving Millie a start.

"Well I'll be damned, all the vox-networks have been shush about that incident. What happened?"

I relate what happened at the Finale Fooks Diner to them. The adoption process, the shooting, and the rush to get away. I was careful sideline what uncle had done. He was supposed to be an adept after all.

When I finish, Millie leans back on one of the shelves, whistling. "What rotten luck, first day here and ya get shot up."

"Sure is, who were they, anyway?"

"The shooters? Green faction. Must be them." She fills herself a drink.

"They're outlaws who used ta be farmers." Waverly adds.

"Farsight is going through a lot of changes right now." Millie continues. "My grandmother used to tell me stories of how Farsight was before all the manufactoriums and mills went up. We were simply an Agri-world."

"The manufactoriums changed that though. Now, you'd need a lot of land if you want to make a living off farming, and none of our household crafts can sell if the manufactoriums could produce the same thing at half the price." She takes another gulp "We adapted of course, my mother moved here shortly after I was born, she was lucky enough to get a job as a shop clerk. Not a lot of people are that lucky though, including Derek and his family."

"The Green Faction is made from ex-farmers who don't want to adapt. They blame the government and the Industrial magnates for what's going on right now, and terrorize us townies and city-goers." She sighs, before taking another chug. "Never thought the conflict would spread to here, to be honest. I mean, compared to most Forge-cities, this town is pretty well off. We even have enough money to have Sentinel Security under our payroll."

"Sentinel Security? Are they the guys with black uniforms?"

"Yeah, that's them. They're a mixed bunch, but you have to admit they're proper professionals. Unlike the Watch." She glances at the Chrono on the wall. "You know, it's almost dinner time. Why don't you invite your uncle to have dinner here, I'll give ya a discount."

"Oh, that's a great idea! Ya still have so much to tell me!" Says an eager Waverly. "If ya want I could give ya a tour around town afterwards!"

"God-Emperor, it's already dark Wavy! Give it to her tomorrow." Chides Millie.

I smile before leaving the shop. "I'll tell uncle about it."

Walking up the stairs to our apartment, I couldn't help but feel happy.

Things are looking up.

Lets hope it lasts.

AN: A lot of dialogue in this chapter. What do you think about it? Huge thanks to everyone that reviewed!

Review Responses:

Heir of the Void: You pretty much nailed what the Mediatorum does. I assure you that its role shall be further fleshed out as this series progresses.
Zrye: I'm going to assume that you meant DySyst in your comment, since 40k's fan fiction stage is thriving. I'm pretty happy that this is the first Dysyst crossover in . Here's to hoping that its fandom expands! :D

Notyouraveragejo: Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)