'No, no, that box goes there you lummox, no not in front if the cargo loader you grox turds, stack them on the pile!' screamed the fat overseer Kaldarbar Qiang, though it seemed like a wasted effort to Kerlic. Kerlic, whose lofty position of Overboss meant that he, for the first time in his adult life, was not expected to carry heavy things for other people, was enjoying the perks of his promotion.
In the weeks following the Warp-Squall, Kerlic had risen considerably, his quick instincts in picking up the alarm, and the fact that he was one of the few crew bosses on the Tertiary loading deck left standing after the Kriegers had cleared out the mutineers, meant that he had found a space to fill and had filled it adequately.
Turning his head towards Kaldarbar, Kerlic let loose with a reprimand of his own 'Oi, Kal, back off a little would you, you know these boys are working hard down there, aintya boys?!' A chorus of 'Yes sirs' and 'Yes boss' came back to him, spoken from the half a hundred or so mouths, five entire work crews, that were now under his supervision.
'Understood boss' came Kaldarbar's sullen reply, 'I was just tryin to meet the quota is all' he said, his voice lowering to a mumble at the last part.
'Well ease off, we're still ahead of the next crews in the other loading decks, if one of the starchies comes down to investigate us, they'll start beating on them first, leaving us plenty of time to catch up.'
Kerlic didn't truly bare the ship's arms men, colloquially known as "starchies" for their constricting uniforms, all that much ill will, but it was a good of an excuse as any to give his men a bit of a load off.
Ever since the mutie uprising, they'd been short staffed, and the officers had worked them hard. By allowing his men some time for a breather, Kerlic found that they actually worked harder and more efficiently the rest of the time, though he was sure if a techpriest ever heard his view on that matter he'd be flogged for blaspheming against the Motive Force and its tenants of efficiency.
Shuddering at the thought of Mechanicus scourges, Kerlic got back to work proper, directing in a fresh crew to replace a tired out one, and himself helping to maneuver some of the bulkier and more delicate items around, just to ensure that nothing to important was damaged.
Of course, Kerlic had no indication that anything inside these boxes was all that fragile at all, but when it came to cargo, it always paid to be safe rather than sorry.
The Kriegsmen, it seems, also went by that maxim, as he saw an enormous Cargo container, easily tall enough for a man to stand in and several meters long was carried along on a tracked bed used to transport the heaviest and most esoteric of loads. Besides the box marched ten Kriegers in perfect sink, their lasguns held tightly across their chests, the attached bayonets reflecting the harsh white light which the loading bay was bathed in.
Instinctively unnerved by the lidless glare of the tinted gas masked eye-lenses, Kerlic quickly dropped his gaze back down to the pile of crates that he'd been stacking. Seeing that it had reached a considerable height, Kerlic gave the call, 'Alright lads we've got enough, lets load 'em onto the Bulk Hauler'.
Just as his men jumped to their assigned tasks, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around to gaze at the person touching him, he nearly let out a panicked shriek when he saw who gazed back at him.
A commissar. A commissar was looking at him, directly in the eye. Kerlic was a tall man this he knew, standing almost half a head over the next tallest man in his work detail. The commissar towered over him by at least three inches, though with the height of his peaked cap, he seemed as if he were a giant to Kerlic.
Instinctively making the sign of the Aquila to confirm his faith in the Emperor to this manifest being of Imperial authority he bowed his head low and awaited his instructions.
'You have done a fine job here Overseer, your section is by far the most efficient on this loading bay, perhaps even on the whole of the ship' the big commissar commented, in an accent that was both deep and foreign to Kerlic.
Kerlic, his cheeks now flush with praise hastened to reply, desperately trying not to trip over his words as he spoke to this monolithic figure. 'I just try my best Lord commissar Sir, as the Emperor demands' Kerlic replied, pleased with himself that he didn't stumble over his words as he was afraid he might. 'Fine words, fine words indeed overseer. But I'm afraid that I must ask you to put aside your work for the moment, this loader is designated for our... special purpose use. Astra Militarum official business you understand.' said the commissar. 'Yes sir, Lord Commissar, we understand' Kerlic replied whilst motioning for his crews to step aside and let the tracked bed, and its massive cargo container through.
Smiling as he went on his way, the commissar, accompanied by the ten kriegers and, upon further inspection, what appeared to be a purple robed techpriest, entered the Bulk Hauler with their cargo, the hatch closing to signify that that the Hauler was full. Scratching his head at the strange development, Kerlic signaled his men over and instructed them to start moving the crates down over to the next hauler waiting to be filled, it would seem that he still had plenty of work ahead of him.
Por'o Dal'yth Kal'roh watched the descent of Gue'la landers as they fell from the blocky 12 kilometer long behemoth that Aircast records name the Gal'an am'shon, or as the Gue'la refer to it as, a Universe Class Mass Conveyor.
The pretensions of the Gue'la, Kal'roh mussed, to name a ship after their selfish desire to conquer all, not for the Greater Good, but merely for themselves. Still though, despite the pretensions of the ship, Kal'roh had to emit, the immensity of the construct impressed him in some way, the pure power and aggression a ship of that size made could serve as a useful political tool, the Watercaste diplomat mussed, and he supposed that the large size and squat appearance of the vessel may appeal to some of the more bellicose of the Earthcaste if nothing else.
However, despite the size of the main ship, it is the dropships and lander pods that the vessel was spewing out that really worried the emissary. The matter for discontentment on this world was that they felt that their Imperium had abandoned them, only showing up to contract tithes and slaves from the population and providing nothing in return.
Of course, the Tallerian mercenaries he had hired to sack the planet had only exacerbated matters, as he knew they would. Still, he could use this he knew. The immensity of the ship, though designed to impress upon the gullible herds of mankind could just as easily be spun as an oppressive monolith, the fist of an entity that despised those who were "free."
Kal'roh broke his mussing to turn his gaze from the large window he had been looking through, to look upon his surroundings. The room had once been what a Gue'la thought of as opulent. Gazing around, he say the bedroom he was standing in, just one of a series of state rooms that the governor had assigned to his personal use. A bed, so large Kal'Roh found it hard to credit would only be meant for one person, had loomed large over the chamber, whilst the carpet was pleasantly supple, and tickled the emissaries hooves ever so slightly as he walked across it.
However, where Imperial decadence had once stood, the efficiency of the Tau'va now reigned supreme. All about the station, Water and Earth mingled in harmony, the engineers and builders of the Earthcaste manning and maintaining censors and other equipment necessary to communicate messages to the fleet hidden in orbit, whilst Watercaste speech makers sat in repose on a series of low writing desks, calligraphy pens held at the ready to produce the next series of speeches to rectify the faith of mankind's so called God-Emperor with the real truth of the Greater Good.
Much as how the wise Matron coats an unpleasant herb in Taloxian honey-water, so is the hard truth of the greater good coated in human superstition, at least until the Tau'va could be established in force.
Sighing in contentment at this little slice of Tau efficiency in the heart of bloat and stagnation that was an Imperial hive city, Kal'Roh addressed his subordinate, 'Swift-tongue, I have need of your service' Kal'roh said. 'I am at your, and the Tau'va's command, honored Por'O, how may I be of service?' enquired the subordinate. Swift-tongue, the name his aid had insisted on being referred to as while they operated on a Gue'La world, was of middling build, even for one of the Watercaste. Spindly and short, he cut a rather unintimidating figure, but where the brutes of mankind, or even the more hardheaded member of the Firecaste, would have seen weakness, Swift-tongue turned his stature into strength.
When the barbarians of man's empire pondered what they called Xenos, their thoughts inevitably turns to fear. Fear turns to anger. Anger to lynching's and superstitious burnings at the stake. By preventing a humbler face, such an unfortunate series of events would never need transpire.
'Contact the Kor'Vattra, inform them of Gue'la shipments arriving on world and send them the details of that bloated behemoth in orbit. Tell them that, while I have little knowledge of military matters, I suggest a targeting solution be drawn on that monster, just for insurance's sake. 'As the Greater good wills, honored Por'O' Swift-Tongue replied, nodding his head to him in obeisance. 'Very good. Also, inform our Earthcaste collogues here to try and examine those transports from here, let us see what the Gue'la bring to this world and how we might use it to our purpose'. 'Most excellent, honored Por'O' Swift-Tongue stated, moving even as he said that to enact Kal'Roh's will.
Turning once again to the grand window that overlooked the hive, content that whatever the brutes of mankind could deliver onto this world, nothing would slow the march of progress, progress that only the Tau'va could provide.
'Come and hear the words of the New Creed!' bellowed the street-preacher standing on top of an upturned cargo crate, his robes flowing in the artificial breeze of the under-hive.
As far as under-hives went it was not the worst the Imperium had to offer. Tepid, chemical imbued water was plentiful enough that only a few died of thirst each day. The ceiling lights worked most days, as did the heaters, at least, in the industrial areas of the under-hive, what little of those there were. Food was plentiful, if one could stomach the slop and garbage that passed for honest fare in this hellhole.
The denizens knew nothing of this, however. For them it was the same hell that had been their home for the past four thousand years, the time that had elapsed since Imperial colonization of Cena Primaris. And they gathered about the preacher in their throngs.
'The Echlessiarchy declares a war of purgation on all that was not man' the street-preacher proclaimed. 'They declare war against all life, all thought, all hope that does not conform with their own' the preacher continued at a bellow. 'And it is in the Emperor's name that they do this, in His holy name! 'Nay I tell you Nay! The Emperor, Our Emperor, the benevolent father of our species does not want this from his Children, to work until death claims you.' The preacher paused here to draw in breath, clearly winded from his shouted exhortation of faith.
'And in His benevolence, he has sent for us salvation! For as it says in The Old Meditations 'And then he sent forth his blue angels to deliver those oppressed' And he had made it so!'
'These Tau are not the Xenos that the Apostate Echlessiarchy, or the feeble Adminustratum say that they are, by their actions they have proven themselves more than human!' the preacher exclaimed, spittle flying from his mouth at the intensity of his passion. 'How many children have been saved by the medicines and balms the Tau have given to us? How many widows have been saved from the chill by the heaters and warm plates we've been given? Truly, an alliance with the Tau is not a betrayal of our beloved Emperor, it is a repudiation of the corrupt and rotten Imperium that tarnishes His glorious image!
Kal'Roh smiled down at the preacher through the drone pict screen that had been sent down to observe the Underhive. That preacher he had turned really was good, a real firebrand speaker, which in his experience was what appealed to Gue'la, all fire and aggression, much like the Be'gel in that way, thought admittedly a slight less malodorous. Even many of the Gue'vessa that he know were still like these, even after generations of communion within the Tau Empire and they still retained their fierce superstition of their dead god.
Sighing in contentment at a plot well executed, Kal'Roh turned back to the holoscreen projector. He had a meeting to attend to and it would not do for the second most civilized cast, after the Etherials of course, to be late to a meeting.
Hey everyone, I'm sorry about how late this update is. If you guys can just hold on until the summer, I think I can set up a consistent upload schedule. As it stands now... We'll see. Hopefully I can get another chapter out before the end of March. Also I'm sorry for the lack of action in the last couple chapters. Next chapter will probably be similar, but the one after that... well you'll just have to wait and see! Finally please feel free to comment with some criticisms or improvements, don't be shy give me both barrels!