//------------------------------// // Chapter Six // Story: Compliance // by Mal Masque //------------------------------// Chapter Six For whatever reason that Yamira Kalov could not fathom, she had grown to prefer the sound of mortar fire waking her up in the dead of night by Xenos or heretics to the utterly detestable blaring of a klaxon alarm in her ear at the crack of dawn. Her eye bolted open as the ear-bleeding digital scream went on and on right on her bedside. She smacked her hand against the nightstand in an effort to silence the synthetic noises, before immediately regretting using her far more sensitive, skinless hand as the jolt of pain ran through her entire body. Yamira rolled herself over, ignoring the burning pain of bare flesh on cloth sheets, and brought her undamaged hand right atop the alarm, silencing it for good. The end result had her completely cocooned in her own bedsheets. This had been a ritual for Yamira for the past week, as diplomat to Merodi Universalis. Yamira untangled herself from her bedsheet, a disheveled mess of blonde hair spilling out over her equally messy face. Slowly she sat upright in her bed, staring at the red lights of her alarm clock with a deep loathing. A look she seemed to give to a lot of people, locations and things in Celestia City, now that she thought about it. “Bell, are you awake?” Yamira groggily called out. The servitor in the corner flittered to life, its servos chugging and eyes blinking, shining through the dark right into Yamira’s eye. “AWAKENED, COMMISSAR.” Bell said. As much as Yamira appreciated the constant companionship and service of the servitor, that shrill voice it made that once may have been a woman was not helpful in the early morning. “Good, good.” Yamira muttered. “Check for received messages.” “YES, COMMISSAR.” Yamira stood up, ruffling out the creases in her sleepwear that was generously donated to her wardrobe on behalf of the Merodi. She shuffled over to the dresser while the servitor beeped and hummed to itself. She picked up her hairbrush and worked to clean herself up a bit, straightening her golden hair back from the bedraggled mess. “NO RECEIVED MESSAGES, COMMISSAR.” “Of course not,” Yamira grumbled. “Not like I’ve received toss-all from the Commissariat or the Lord Commander of the Guard since arriving in this depraved land of, of, of…” She paused to yank her brush from a few tangled knots. “Xenos, mutants and heretics.” She set the brush down and yanked a red towel from a small basket to her side. “Tell me the day’s schedule while I make myself ‘presentable’, or whatever balderdash the Overhead thinks.” “YES, COMMISSAR,” Bell droned. While the servitor went through its records, Yamira walked into one of the few things she actually somewhat enjoyed in Celestia City: the shower. Being on an active battlefield made such luxuries reserved only for the Spires of Hive Nobility or even the High Lords of Terra impossible. The soothing warm water cascading on her, the fruit-smelling lotions for her hair and body, the sensation of being freed of months of dirt and dried blood from countless battles across the galaxy, it was the greatest gift that the Merodi had ever given her. Not that she would ever admit it, but that would be as close as could be to bending the knee for these foul heathens. “SCHEDULE FOR TODAY IS AS FOLLOWS, COMMISSAR,” Yamira could still hear Bell’s horrid voice over the rush of water from the tap, much to both her relief and dismay. “MEETING WITH CAPTAIN MANGONEL AND REPRESENTATIVE JAMESON AT RELATIONS OFFICE IN 0130 HOURS. MEETING WITH OVERHEAD EVENING SPARKLE AND AMBASSADOR AMBER DUST IN 0200 HOURS. BOARD TRANSPORT TO HIVEWORLD ARMASTUS AND MEET WITH PLANETARY GOVERNOR IN 0300 HOURS.” “Oh damn it, I nearly forgot about that meeting.” Yamira said. She paused mid-scrub, careful to avoid the sting of soap on her skinless sinew. “... How long has it been since I’ve actually set foot on Armastus?” “TWENTY-THREE YEARS, TEN MONTHS, AND ONE-HUNDRED NINETEEN DAYS, COMMISSAR,” Bell replied. “Rhetorical statement, Bell.” Yamira turned off the faucet and steadily toweled herself off, making sure to proceed cautiously on her exposed muscles. Years since her injury and yet she still found more ways her sensitive and damaged body could fire pain throughout. At least she wore a red towel, much easier to hide unwanted stains. Covered up to the best of her ability, Yamira stepped out of the shower and walked to her wardrobe, where her uniform hung in pristine condition. As it always should be. “Retrieve a tin of nutrient paste for me, Bell, I’m feeling peckish.” The servitor wordlessly skittered over to the table as Yamira dressed herself, yet another step in the dull morning ritual. By the time Yamira fitted her coat on, she was surprised to see Bell approach her empty-handed. “APOLOGIES, COMMISSAR. OUR NUTRIENT PASTE STORES HAVE RUN EMPTY.” Yamira ran over to the cabinet, where should be several stacks of grey militant-issue tins filled with flavorless paste that gives the body what it needs, was an empty hole with a lone, open tin, bearing the Departmento Munitorum’s alteration on the aquila, dented and wrent. She slammed a balled fist on the top of the cabinet, rattling free the tin and sending it rolling onto the floor with a hollow clack. “Damnation… there were enough tins to feed a battalion of fifty men for a month, how did I run out in a week?” She quickly stood up and pointed at Bell. “Rhetorical statement, do not answer that.” The servitor stepped back as Yamira rubbed her cheek. “This marks an ill omen for the day.” She grabbed her hat from atop the dresser and sat it atop her head as she walked towards the door. “Emperor bless me if this day gets any worse.” She opened the door with a tap of the reader, and was immediately greeted by…. “Good morning, Commissar Kalov!” Windmind greeted chipperly. The Tau ambassador’s smile seemed to never leave her face, pristine teeth that seemed to always greet Yamira at every turn. Before she could get another word in, Yamira closed the door right in the grey woman’s face. The Commissar silently stared at the door, her good eye lowered in a listless, dour gaze, while her hand hovered over the bio-lock scanner. “... She’s still there, I can feel it,” Yamira muttered. She pressed her hand to the scanner, praying to the God-Emperor that she was wrong. Once again, her prayers had gone unheeded, as it has been for the week of her stay. “Another wonderful day out, isn’t it?” Windmind said. Her hands were tucked into the folds of her silken robes and her head raised high with that same sunny smile. “With it being such a delightfully bright and warm day out, one just cannot help but feel truly invigorated.” The less-than-enthused glare Yamira was giving to the Tau clearly wasn’t deterring her. She tried to push her way past, but the greyskin seemed to block her at every turn. “Perhaps you and I might share this before parting ways for the day?” “No,” Yamira curtly said, ducking at every possible angle to find a way past. “I need to get to the Relations Office to commence with my day, and I have little time to-” “Oh, you’re heading that way as well?” ‘Of course I was heading that way as well,’ Yamira thought. ‘We are both bloody diplomats who work in the same bloody building.’ “Then it is fated that we meet this morning!” ‘You were waiting in front of my door, you Xenos halfwit.’ Windmind brought herself closer, the brims of their hats touching and their noses inches apart. Well, more aptly half a nose and a y-shaped crevasse. “Let us go over to the Office together!” “Absolutely not!” Yamira once again tried to push past, but Windmind still blocked the way. “Do your people not have the concept of obstruction?!” Windmind stepped back, her red eyes widened at the Commissar’s outburst. Yamira stumbled through the open doorway, but quickly regained her posture with a tug on her collar. “Finally.” A quick tip of her hat and a flick of stray hair from her eyes, Yamira set off down the corridors, leaving the stunned Tau behind. “... We do, actually.” By the time Yamira had arrived at the Relations Office with a grumble in her empty stomach, the day had already begun. Politicians, diplomats and ambassadors milled about the great steps to the building, shuffling papers and conversing with their fellows about how their days are going and any potential business that may be going on. Humans and ponies, aliens and mutants, all milling about their day to day, as though their mere co-existence in the same area were not an affront to the God Emperor’s holy vision. Yamira paid it no mind as she walked up the stairs, staring ever ahead. Within the foyer, a room filled to the brim with the fare of travellers and petitioners talking up bridges between worlds. Yamira felt herself reminded of the councilors and advisors that would flock to the sides of planetary governors, providing a lip about the common people to ears that would not often listen over their wealth. While Yamira had yet to see anything akin to the corruption of those types within the Merodi, she still held her reservations and suspicions. At the base of a great statue in the center of the foyer stood Captain Devon, accompanied by Cage, both men relaxing against the base with smoke trailing from their lips. Or, in the latter’s case, three trails. Devon immediately saw Yamira walking towards them and quickly removed the cigarette from his lips, snuffing it out on the side of his metallic foot before ultimately standing at attention. Cage just waved and puffed another triad of smoke wisps. “Good morning, Lady Commissar,” Devon said. “Hey Bacon-face,” Cage said. His remark was met with a nudge by Devon. Yamira met Devon’s salute with one of her own, ignoring the smoking Stand User. “Good morning, Captain,” Yamira said. “Receive any news from the chain?” “None from the High Lords themselves, ma’am,” Devon shook his head. “But I’ve heard out and about that a big-name official will be arriving for a military inspection in a few days.” “Inspection?” Yamira repeated. “From among the Imperium?” “Aye, one of our own.” The Captain nodded. “Found it a bit odd, myself. Especially with a Commissar already staying here in the wings, hmm?” Yamira lightly nodded, thinking on the implications. For someone to be arriving from the Imperium to inspect the military of the Merodi Universalis, it would have to be someone who has the wherewithal to enact that type of authority. Someone like her. “Perhaps…” Yamira muttered. “Perhaps… No matter, should this military representative and I meet, we might exchange words. For now, I’ve work to do.” “Oh yeah, Ambs is already waiting for you at the office,” Cage said, jabbing a thumb behind his back. “She’s looking super frazzed right now, but hey, what else is new?” Cage chuckled as the ends of his cigarettes glowed lightly. Yamira rolled her eye and returned to focus on Devon. “Continue about your day then, Captain,” Yamira said. Devon nodded and started to head off, with Cage making a head start, but Yamira held her hand, keeping the Armageddonite in place. “Before you do, I have a request.” She leaned forward and whispered into Devon’s ear in a hushed voice. “You wouldn’t happen to have any paste tins or ration bars, would you?” Devon slowly raised an eyebrow. “I’m running low and am feeling slightly peckish.” “Peckish?” Yamira’s response was interrupted by the low grumbling of a very empty stomach. Devon smirked. “Slightly peckish?” “Don’t make exert my authority over you, Captain,” Devon raised his hands defensively and stepped back. He quickly opened one of his pockets and produced a silver-wrapped bar bearing the Imperium’s iconography. Yamira snatched the bar from Devon’s hand and hastily tore off the wrapping. Despite it looking more like a dull grey brick than anything remotely edible, Yamira took a hurried bite, wolfing it down without even considering to taste the non-existent flavor. “... Civilian Relief Ration Bar. This will suffice. You’re dismissed, Captain.” Devon saluted again and took off after Cage. Yamira inspected the bar in her hands again and took another bite, chewing lightly as she walked down the halls. Like her nutrient paste, the bar was flavorless, but the hard texture made it difficult to swallow, even when gnawed down into crumbs. Yamira stepped into a vacant elevator and pressed the switch to her floor. The doors slid shut as Yamira was left to chew on the relief bar, allowing her to eat and think to herself in relative silence. Until that damn music came on, at least. That infernal looping of those five damn piano notes that came from the warbling speakers hidden somewhere in the framework. Every time she used these elevators, that same fifteen-second loop of that grated on Yamira’s ears. Were she not already lacking one, she would have torn the other off to spare herself from the music that made her want to take a bolt to her head. Thankfully, she was momentarily spared from suffering in silence when her elevator came to a quick stop. The doors slid open and two well-dressed men entered, a man who was not tall and a man who was not short. Yamira stepped to the side to allow the men to enter, but instead they flanked her, standing at both sides. Neither man moved to push the button as the doors slid shut. There was a pregnant silence between the three, even the music seemed to have cut out entirely, only broken apart by the sound of Yamira’s teeth grinding the stale ration bar into something remotely edible. The lights on the elevator signalled they were indeed moving up, but Yamira had a sinking feeling that she was going nowhere. Yamira tried to get a look at the two men, but the brims of their hats covered their eyes and cast shadows that obscured their faces. Everything about them felt off. Their suits were too tidy, their clothes tucked in impeccably, even their ties were done perfectly. It was like the two had come off an assembly line. Yamira glanced up and saw the light arriving at her floor. “This is my stop,” Yamira said. She reached forward to open the door, but the man who was not tall stopped her, pressing a finger to the emergency stop. Yamira felt her stomach lurch as the elevator came to a full stop, while the two men didn’t move in the slightest. She stared carefully at the two men, feeling extremely naked without her power sword or bolt pistol on her. Damn security inspection, demanding she keep her weapons in storage. What kind of military official worth her salt would walk around freely without her weapons? She regarded the men carefully, waiting for one to make any movements, but they still maintained their perfect stillness. “Commissar Yamira Kalov,” the man who was not tall said. “Do not be alarmed. We wished to speak to you in private.” “Seeking a place with no witnesses, hmm?” Yamira replied. Her tone matched the man who was not tall’s own coldness, biting like the frost on a sub-zero tundra. “Not at all, Commissar Kalov,” the man who was not short said. Were Yamira not watching them speak, she could hardly tell the two apart from their voices. “We’re here to extend an olive branch, hold out our hands for mutual benefit.” “You are not a friend of Merodi Universalis,” the man who was not tall said. “It’s written all over your face, both halves. No offense, of course.” Yamira just hardened her glare and remained stationary. “Don’t fret, neither are we.” The man who is not short produced a slate white business card from the confines of his finely-pressed jacket, which Yamira took and swiftly tucked away without sparing a single glance. “We represent outside interests that have taken stock in the Merodi’s rapid expansion across the multiverse, and focusing on those who’ve been affected by their presence.” “They’ve certainly gotten comfortable in the big boots they’ve been trying on,” the man who was not short added. “So much so that they don’t realize just how many ant colonies they’ve been stomping as of late.” “You liken the Imperium to ants?” Yamira raised an eyebrow and unconsciously balled a hand into a fist. The man who was not tall interjected. “Not in the slightest, Commissar Kalov. After all, the Merodi wouldn’t be expending this much effort into keeping your Imperium happy and compliant alongside the aliens you clearly despise, in exchange for safe passage through your world. Having your entire way of life changed in but the span of a few months cannot be good for anyone.” “We sympathize with your plight, Commissar.” The man who is not short stepped in front of Yamira, hands kept hidden behind his back. “Know that you and those who think as you do are not alone in the multiverse.” While some would find comfort in this knowledge, Yamira felt more uncertain than ever. She already distrusted the Merodi, even as she served as a liaison between them and the Imperium, but the mere aura these two men gave off sent a creeping chill up her spine she had not felt in decades. The elevator opened on the nineteenth floor; Yamira had no idea when it started up again. The man who is not short tipped his hat and stepped out, while the man who is not tall remained. “If you ever feel the need of some relief or even an intervention,” he gestured to the pocket where their card was placed. “Give us a call.” The man who was not tall exited and the doors slid shut once more. Wheels turned silently in Yamira’s head as the five-note music returned to the speakers. Her lips felt dry and her breath uneven. Once she regained her bearings, Yamira removed the card from her pocket and read it. There was no number for contact, no address, no name for whomever the two men were or who they represented. Just a single sentence, and a mind full of questions. Agents from a vague, yet menacing government agency. Amber Dust was seated patiently in Yamira’s office, tapping her hoof on the floor as she awaited the Commissar’s arrival. She was several minutes late, but Amber could wait a bit longer. Maybe it was her fault for arriving thirty minutes early, but being late was just as rude as being too early. Amber bit the tip of her hoof, tapping away to the beat of a ticking clock stationed at Yamira’s desk. When the door slammed open, Amber nearly jumped through the ceiling, hair standing on end and teeth clenched tightly onto her hoof to the near point of drawing blood. “Ambassador Dust,” Yamira curtly said. Amber released her hold on her hoof and melted out of her seat, right onto the floor in front of Yamira’s boots. “... Hi,” Amber squeaked. “I, uh… didn’t expect you to come in late.” Yamira just scoffed and stepped right over the small pony, tossing a spent wrapper into a nearby waste bin. Like Yamira’s apartment in the Diplomat Dome, it was barely decorated save for the necessities of a desk, a computer, a set of chairs, and Yamira’s prized weapons hanging on the wall by hooks. The only other thing that Yamira insisted on having to at least add some ‘flavor’ to her room (at the insistence of Amber, naturally) was a statuette of the God-Emperor of Mankind, resplendent in golden glory during his prime of the Great Crusade, his flaming sword raised on high to smite all enemies that dare impede humanity’s path to conquering the stars. Amber called it cute when it was brought in. “I was preoccupied,” Yamira said, sitting down behind her desk. She hovered her hands over the keyboard, but stopped herself momentarily. “Random question, but do you know anything about a ‘vague yet menacing government agency’?” Amber stood up and rolled her head to the side, perplexed written all over her face. Yamira sighed and returned to her focus on the computer. “Right, of course you don’t. Forget I said anything.” Amber puffed her cheeks indignantly. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer!” “Well do you know anything about what I said?” Yamira replied. Amber deflated like a balloon with her head lowered. “Then forget I said anything.” “R-right…” Amber said. She cleared her throat and trotted up to the desk. “So, today’s gonna be a big day. Going on your first diplomatic mission! Isn’t that exciting?” Yamira stared at her computer screen, waiting for it to properly turn on so she could find something else to use to ignore Amber. Unfortunately, the blonde pony still continued, holding up a clipboard and rattling off information. “So, I know you probably got the sit-rep for it, but a recap couldn’t hurt. Celestia City is in orbit over Hive World Armastus, where you, me, and two others for protection - I’m thinking Cage and Captain Mangonel - will go down there and meet with the, uh… leader person...” “Planetary Governor,” Yamira corrected. “That, yes, thank you,” Amber said. She was pacing around the office, balancing herself on three hooves as she examined the papers. “Anyway, we’ll be going down to the capital city and have a meeting with the Planetary Governor to engage in peace talks. Once we’re done with that, we’ll mark Armastus off on the long list of planets we need to visit, then come back here and get some victory cake from the Pinkie Emporium.” Amber smiled widely and turned back toward Yamira’s desk. “Any questions?” Yamira stopped her typing and rotated herself in her seat, folding her fingers over each other and looming over her desk like a vulture over carrion. “A few,” Yamira said. “First and foremost, why Armastus? It’s an almost insignificant world in Segmentum Tempestus, even as most Hive Worlds would go. In fact, what is this list you speak of? This is the first I’ve heard of it.” “But… that was in the briefing the day after you got here.” Amber said, pointing at Yamira. “We gave you that big folder and everything.” Yamira inwardly cursed herself, recalling receiving such a file, regarding the papers within as one would receiving a paper bag filled with manure, and treating it as such by throwing it right out the window. “Yes, yes, I recall the folder,” Yamira said, hastily waving her hand in front of her face. “But recounting what was in the folder could be of use in… reminding me before we traverse planetside.” Amber nodded and set the clipboard aside on Yamira’s desk. “Well, it goes like this,” Amber explained. “When we - we being Merodi Universalis - arrived here in Galaxia Immaterium, we had a lot of difficulty trying to get anyone to take us seriously, or even consider us helpful. Sure, the Ethereal Supreme of the Tau Empire opened up to us after the first visit, but that was after a lot of convincing and negotiation. Nearly a month in and we managed to get representatives to Terra,” Yamira curled her lip. “Human representatives!” Yamira relaxed somewhat, but still kept her glare. “Anyway, when the representatives met with the High Lords, they, and a direct representative from the Emperor, the Captain-General of the Custodes,” Yamira rubbed her chin in brief contemplation. “Whose name I can’t really remember, but he was really polite and looked like a big golden banana.” “Get to the point,” Yamira grumbled. “R-right.” Amber blushed and brought her hoof down. “So, the Captain-General said that the Emperor would consider our offer for alliance, as it apparently wasn’t the first time the Imperium had worked with outside forces. But, he said that in order to do so, we needed to convince the entire Imperium that we truly wish to help. Which means-” “Which means that you must convince every planet within the Imperium’s territory,” Yamira said. “A territory which encompasses… millions of worlds.” Amber slowly nodded. “I see. That’s quite a task for the God-Emperor to bestow.” Though her words were somber, Yamira’s mind was howling with laughter. ‘Quite a brilliant task indeed, my Emperor!’ Yamira thought, staring at the statuette adorning her desk. ‘To task the Xenos and their sympathisers to a task so impossible, you doom them to failure! They attempt to recreate your Great Crusade, but will find themselves walking on a futile path! I was a fool to doubt your infinite wisdom, magnanimous Emperor of Mankind!’ “Yes, but we’re making good progress so far!” Amber said, perking herself up a bit. “And Armastus shouldn’t be that hard! It’ll be the third planet I’ve visited, but this time we’ll have someone actually from the Imperium helping out! You!” Yamira’s joyous thoughts died a little at that. Again and again, she was reminded of her position, her sentence, to aid the Merodi in their endeavors as a political pawn. “If anyone can convince the Planetary Governor to give us a chance, it’ll be you!” Yamira sighed and reclined in her seat. “Perhaps, though I would not get your hopes up,” Yamira said. “Lord Governor Velour is a stubborn man, but as loyal to the Imperial Creed as any servant of the God-Emperor should.” “I’m sure you can probably talk some sense into hi-” Amber stopped herself, blinking rapidly as though it would filter the confusion running through her brain. “Wait, I never said his name. How did you know that?” Yamira stood up and adjusted the collar of her jacket, running her thumbs on the hem of her clothes. “Simple: I’ve been to Armastus before,” she said. Yamira turned about and removed her sword and gun from the wall, slinging them both onto her belt. “Twenty-three years ago. Back when it was amidst a civil war.” Amber kept her mouth open, but no words came out other than dead air. Yamira adjusted her hat and started to the door. “Are you going to just stand there trying to catch flies, Ambassador?” “Oh, yeah, r-right.” Amber grabbed the clipboard in her teeth and followed behind Yamira as the two walked out of the office. As they walked, Yamira’s thoughts strayed to the Emperor once more, his infinite wisdom and all-seeing gaze. Was he watching her right now, through her trials and tribulations amongst the Xenos and heretics? The mere idea that he did watch her from the Golden Throne on Holy Terra brought a sense of ease to Yamira’s troubled soul. ‘The Emperor protects.’ Yamira told herself. ‘The Emperor always protects.’