Chapter Seven
Armastus was a rare blue jewel in the Segmentum. A world of pristine oceans encompassing the globe as far as the eye could perceive. Nary a stretch of land graced the surface of the world, unmarred by the rising earth from the depths. And yet, it was not without humanity’s industrious touch. Around murky brown stains that blotted the beauty of the oceanic world, the spires of Hive Cities floated on artificial land, barnacles on the belly of a whale unaware of its life slowly being drained to feed the Imperium’s machinations of war.
It looked even better than the last time Yamira beheld it’s majesty.
Yamira and Amber had long since left Celestia City with Captain Devon and Cage accompanying them as guards, descending towards the planet on a Merodi Skiff flown by a Peridot pilot. Once again, the diplomats and their associates were seated in the bay, idly passing the time until planetfall. Cage and Devon were exchanging smokes, Amber idly rocked in her seat, and Yamira was once again consulting her personal Lectitio Divinitatus, muttering prayers under her breath to the God-Emperor of Mankind. There was little conversation between anyone after boarding the Skiff; Cage wasn’t in the mood, Yamira made it clear she preferred to be disturbed as little as possible, and Devon was just as ambivalent.
“So… you’ve been to Armastus before?” Amber asked, glancing over to Yamira. Yamira barely regarded her with a nod as she turned to the next page. “It’s a beautiful planet, all those big oceans and… all that water. It’d probably make for a great place to go on a cruise, eh?”
“Aren’t the waters of Armastus extremely hostile?” Devon spoke up, putting out his spent cigarette on his metal leg.
“Giant sea monsters with scythes for fins the size of a battle-barge, or something.”
“Very accurate, Captain,” Yamira said. She still had yet to look away from her book. “The locals call them ‘Aquanadons’. Once we make landfall, you’ll see the Armastans have AA guns trained on the skies and the seas.” Amber swallowed and looked down at the floor. The pristine blue seemed less appealing to look at now.
“Right, right…” Devon said. He tapped his foot against the floor and stuck out his lip. “You think those Aquanadons would taste good if cooked right? I mean, I’m not usually partial to fish meat, but I’m not one to turn away a chance at new meat. Like this one time, I was stationed with a few mates and some Attillan Rough Riders on a Deathworld, and one bloke, Corporal Kajar, gave me a slice of Ovigor meat, and it was absolutely-”
“Pointless to discuss further.” Yamira said, snapping her book shut. “We should be arriving in the Capital Hive Spire in a few minutes, correct?” Amber jerked her head up after realizing that Yamira had been addressing her.
“Oh yeah, uh, that’s right!” Amber said. “Eve promised us that we’d be arriving right on the tippy top of the, uh, Spire, where the Planetary Governor, Mr. Randolph Velour, will meet us with his retinue of guards! Then it’s straight to his office for talks. Should be hunky-dory after that!” Yamira and Devon glanced at each other, the former giving a hard glare with the latter just looking concerned. Cage tossed a spent cigarette aside and sighed a cloud of smoke.
“Ambs,” he said. “Never say ‘hunky-dory’ ever again.” Amber’s ears fell in conjunction with her head. The ship rocked briefly, signalling the descent through the planet’s atmosphere. The black of space faded away to the bright blue of a cloudless sky, a mirror of the ocean below that was untainted by humanity’s industry and pollution.
“Commissar Kalov, Ambassador Dust,” the Peridot pilot called from the cockpit. “I need you two up front, we’re getting hailed by someone in the capital and they don’t sound happy.” Yamira and Amber unbuckled themselves from their seats and hurried into the cockpit, though Yamira made it a point to be inside first. The pilot gestured to the console, where the open-wave communications device was showing an active connection.
“- Repeat, foreign aircraft,” a man’s voice crackled over the feed. “You are entering into Hive Primus territory. Identify yourselves immediately, or be shot down. This is your only warning.” The color drained from Amber’s face while Yamira partially pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. The planetary defense forces of Hive Worlds took their duties extremely seriously, and thus any threats of being blown out of the sky were not mere bravado, especially in the case of worlds that had successfully overcome strife. It had been a few years, but Yamira hadn’t been too invested in Armastus’ security or their internal struggles. Seeing that, once again, the actual Merodi Ambassador was scared useless, Yamira opted to step in.
“Pilot, open communicae with the PDF,” Yamira instructed. The pilot obliged and quickly tapped a few buttons. The console flashed green, and the pilot gave a brief gesture of confirmation. Yamira cleared her throat and leaned to the hailer. “Planetary Defense, this is Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov of the Astra Militarum, with representatives of Merodi Universalis to meet with the Planetary Lord Governor Randolph Velour, requesting permission to land.” The line went quiet for several seconds, but Yamira could still feel the orbital cannons aimed right at her and her coterie. Finally, a response came through.
“Lady Commissar, please confirm signum identification,” he replied. Yamira folded her arms over her chest and leaned over the hailer, her mask of smugness loosely hanging off her flayed face with pride.
“Signum identification code six-delta-beta-nine-two-zeta-sigma.”
“Signum approved.” Amber had to hold her breath to keep a relieved sigh from disrupting the call. “Proceed to the shuttle bay on Upper Hive secundus. Welcome to Hive Primus.” The call disconnected, and the ship slowly descended towards a grand shadow that cast itself over them like the blanket of the night.
The Hive Cities of the Imperium of Man were always impressive sights, towering structures of stone and metal like living mountains. They stood as proud testaments to humanity’s tenacity to survive even in the harshest of environments and unforgiving of worlds, great black and grey pillars that dared to scrape the heavens themselves. Even from afar, the mighty gunmounts of the planetary defense and the statues of Imperial Saints and Bolter Monk towers were proud and imposing guardians that made true that this was a dominion under the protective gaze of the God-Emperor. For Yamira Kalov, it felt like returning home after so long. The shuttle flew hundreds of miles upwards to the highest points of the Hive City, the Spire, where only the upper echelons may even dream to reside. As the shadows of the hangar cast themselves over the Skiff, Yamira and Amber made their way out of the cockpit to rejoin the others.
“We’ve arrived,” Yamira announced. Devon and Cage unbuckled themselves from their seats, slowly stretching from the hours they had spent stationary. Amber lightly tapped Yamira on her calf, nearly jumping when the Commissar turned and gave her a slight glare with her half-burnt face.
“Th-thank you for saving us with the PDF, Yamira,” Amber softly said. Yamira stared at the pony in silence, the black void of her burned eye matched with Amber’s own deep blue.
“I only did it to avoid being shot from the sky,” Yamira curtly replied. The skiff touched down with a heavy thud and the exit ramp lowered. “Let’s get this over with.” Placing her hand on the pommel of her sword, Yamira marched out of the ship, with her accompaniment following, Devon flanking her right with his lasgun resting against his shoulder, Cage on her left with yet another cigarette alight, and Amber loping behind, a yellow addition to her shadow.
Descending the ramp and onto the cold steel of the Hive’s ground, the group was immediately met with heavily-armed resistance. Six men, decked in the grey uniforms and bucketed helms of the Arbites, each clutching an inactive shock maul and thick-plated riot shields in each tightly gloved hand, stood before them, judging eyes hidden behind tinted visors. Yamira, Devon, Cage and Amber stopped in their tracks, with Amber bumping against Yamira’s leg by accident. One of the Arbitrators approached Yamira, standing just a few inches shy of the Commissar’s own admittedly tall stature.
“Lady Commissar,” The Arbitrator said. “We will be escorting you and your associates to the Lord Governor’s office at the top of the spire. He is expecting you.” He turned his bucket-helmet upon Amber, the pony shirking away under the scrutinous, unseen gaze. “As are some unsettled Hivers. Any reason it doesn’t have a leash?” A terrified squeak came from Amber, and Cage’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.
“You wanna rephrase that, tin-can?” Cage asked. Yamira could already see the Arbitrator’s thumb sliding over the ignition switch on his maul.
"The Merodi Ambassador will not leave my immediate side,” Yamira said. “It will not be a problem.” The thumb slid down, but the tense stature of the black garbed Arbitrators remained rigid.
“Another Xenos on this planet is problem enough,” he grumbled. “Form up!” The Arbitrators marched in unison, parting to form a protective circle around the group, riot shields raised at the ready. Devon and Yamira briefly exchanged glances, the Captain looking just as apprehensive as he was on the Skiff. Yamira shook it off and looked ahead, right as the Arbitrators began their steady march out of the hangar. The group followed, stuck right in the middle of the heavily armored fortification of men.
“Seems a little excessive, if you ask me,” Cage muttered. He cast one of his cigarettes aside, watching as it was immediately crushed under an Arbitrator’s boot.
“I’m surprised they didn’t bring in less,” Devon replied, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“Be quiet, both of you.” Yamira snapped. “And be on your best behavior.” She could barely make out a response Amber had said under her breath, something about it being her job to say things like that, but nobody seemed to pick up on it. Nor really seemed to care.
The Hive Primus of Armastus was like many of the other Hive Cities that Yamira had seen throughout her life. Industrial, metallic, looming, and yet still held its own innate charms here and there. Especially with the wonderful sight of Imperial propaganda posters plastered across various buildings, depicting the Astra Militarum and their various accomplishments across the galaxy. Yamira held back a smile when she recognized the always delightful line of Ciaphas Cain posters, ever the unmitigated badass, as the citizens would call him, and yet in all her years of service, she still had yet to make the legendary Commissar’s acquaintance. Yet, even when surrounded by familiar and welcoming sights of decor, the people were less than welcoming. Men and women, dressed in the finest clothes that only those whose blood ran with ill-begotten gold or ancient ancestry could even hope to possess, regarded the group and their Arbitrator escorts with sneers of revulsion and disgust. Many turned their noses up and went about their way, while others continued their gawking, like they had just witnessed animals fornicating in a zoo. One in particular, a portly woman who happened to have one garishly jeweled necklace for each additional chin she sported, ordered her bodyguard to throw the nearest thing to “spook the beast back into its pen”, but he stayed his ground for fear of incurring the wrath of the Arbites. Yamira spared one glance behind her, noticing that Amber’s eyes had gone puffy and red amidst their lengthy walk, the pony’s head barely looking up from the ground as they plodded along.
After an eternity of walking through the streets of the Upper Hive, they had finally arrived at the Lord Governor’s manor. Like much of the rest of the buildings in the Spire, it was decadent and lavish, finely-polished metal trimmed with the purest gold that could be acquired. The only bits of greenery on the entire planet lined the paths as small bushes, trimmed into nigh perfect circles, some accompanied by statues of various figures in Armastus’ history, each looking just as pompous as the last. Two guards stood vigilant by the tremendous doors, dressed in garish uniforms and carrying laser lances in loose and lazy grips. They parted way and opened the door at the sight of the Arbitrators, leading into the finely furnished interior of the manor. The Arbitrators broke formation, finally providing breathing space for Yamira and her company.
“Lord Governor Velour will be waiting for you inside,” the Arbitrator said. Yamira nodded and gestured to the door, already walking in with Amber still clinging to her shadow. Devon adjusted his grip on his gun and followed after, but Cage remained behind to stare at one of the Arbitrators while chewing on the butts of two cigarettes.
“So do those helmets of yours take ten gallons?” he asked.
“Jameson!” Yamira snapped. Cage winced and quickly followed after the others, just as the guards were closing the doors. He almost got the cuff of his pants stuck in the metal doorway, but nicked himself out just in time.
“Can nobody in this freaking universe take a joke?” Cage asked. Just as he struck himself another match, Yamira’s hand shot out and snuffed out the flame under her glove. In the partially lit interior of the extravagantly decorated manor, Yamira’s harsher features and burnt flesh seemed to be enhanced in a ghoulish manner.
“If you attempt any of your poor attempts at humor with the Lord Governor,” Yamira growled, “I will replace one of your cigarettes with an active krak grenade. Is that clear?” Cage said nothing, simply tucking his hands into his pockets. A sniffle diverted Yamira’s attention from the smoking Stand User to the small yellow pony. Tiny droplets fell onto the floor from where Amber was staring, making barely visible marks on the woven carpet. Yamira bent down, grabbed ahold of Amber’s cheeks, and forcibly hoisted the pony off the ground, suspending her by her own head. “And you! Stop that snivelling this instant!”
“B-b-b-but…” Amber blubbered, wet tears sliding down her cheeks and Yamira’s rough gloves. “They were s-s-s-s-s-saying all those h-h-horrible things! T-t-t-t-treating me l-like I was just some kind of-”
“Animal, yes, because to them, that’s what you are,” Yamira retorted. “To them, you are a small, fluffy, quadrupedal weak thing that is encroaching onto their homes and bringing with you all manner of trouble. If the Lord Governor sees you crying, then you simply confirm that fact.” Yamira hoisted Amber closer, half nose touching muzzle in an awkward display. “People can be cruel and hateful, especially when proven right. Either deal with it or consider taking the Emperor’s Peace.” Yamira pulled her hands back and dropped Amber onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. Amber wiped her nose and eyes with her hoof, getting the last of her sniffles out of her system. Devon furrowed his brow and knelt down next to the pony, placing a hand on her shoulder while supporting himself with the butt of his gun.
“Don’t let the Commissar scare you too badly,” he whispered. “She may be right, but there’s always potential to improve. People can be cruel and hateful when proven right, so might as well prove them wrong.” Amber sniffled again, but smiled as she looked at the rugged captain with still red eyes.
“Thank you, Captain Devon,” she said. “What’s the Emperor’s Peace, by the way?” Devon made a bit of a hesitant face, then made a slow slicing gesture across his throat, concluding by sticking his tongue out. Amber swallowed and stood back up, alongside Devon standing up and resting his gun back on his shoulder. With little else to say, the group found themselves with little else to do but stand around in the foyer. Yamira found the quiet tolerable, compared to the meek noises from Amber and the sneers and jeers of the nobility and the Arbitrators. Still, it was a boring silence, broken apart by the ticking of an ancient clock somewhere in the room.
“Is that supposed to be this Lord Governor guy?” Cage asked. Yamira whipped her head about, expecting to see their host, only to see that Cage had been staring at an oversized portrait of a man in a brilliantly decorated military uniform, bearing several medals of honor and sporting a scowl that would make an Ork shudder. Yamira sighed through her nose and shook her head.
“No, that would be the previous Lord Governor, Anton Velour,” Yamira explained. “He was a general in the Astra Militarum before his retirement.” Yamira walked over to Cage’s side and stared up at the portrait and the man’s stern scowl. “Shame, really. He was one of the best minds I’ve ever known.” Cage withdrew his cigarettes and regarded Yamira with surprise.
“Holy shit, you just said something nice about someone,” Cage said. Yamira scowled while Devon barked a brief laugh.
“Pay up, Jameson!” Devon shouted. Cage grumbled and walked over to Devon, shoving a wad of credits into the Captain’s chest. Devon smirked as he shoved the credits into one of his pockets, leaving Cage to grumble, and Yamira perplexed. Even Amber joined in on the fun with a light giggle.
The merriment was cut short by the sound of footsteps echoing up the enormous set of stairs in the center of the foyer. Slowly coming down from the second floor landing was the unmistakable sight of the Lord Governor. Not in mirroring his predecessor in the portrait, but being the sheer opposite. The man before them was obese, his gaudily decorated green and red clothes barely constraining a paunchy belly that seemed to have not once known hunger, a scrap of red hair neatly combed to one side to cover a very obvious bald spot, and a long mustache that somehow made his face even wider than it already was. Add to it the thick fingers bearing rings and a long golden staff bearing the Imperial aquila at the top, and you have either the Lord Governor or a bastardization of an Ecclesiarch.
“I thought I heard voices down here,” the Lord Governor said. His voice was tepid yet bubbly, like milk on the verge of being spoiled. “You must be the entourage from those, ah, those ah…” He rolled his wrist, steadily descending down the stairs with one plodding step at a time. “Melody University ambassadors, yes?”
“Um… That’s Merodi Universalis, sir,” Amber said, trotting ahead of the group with surprising conviction in her voice. “I’m Relations Ambassador Amber Dust, representing the Merodi proper.” She crossed a hoof over her chest and lightly bowed, just as the Lord Governor reached the ground floor. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Governor Velour.” Velour’s eyes had gone wide at the sight of Amber, Yamira almost expected them to fly out of his head like corks from a child’s wooden bolter.
“Emperor preserve me, a talking horse!” Velour exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest. “I never thought I would see something so extraordinary since the Felinids!” Amber creased her brow, but maintained her dignity, even as Cage and Devon started quietly snickering.
“Yes, I am a pony, Lord Governor sir,.” she said. She stepped to the side and gestured to the humans standing behind her. “With me is my personal bodyguard, Cage Jameson, Captain Devon Mangonel of the Armageddon Steel Legion, and Lady-”
“Yamira Kalov!” Velour said, a wide smile stretching across his face like dough. “I cannot believe it!” He jovially laughed as he waddled up to Yamira, shoving past Amber with a bump of his pudgy belly, forcibly grabbing her hand and vigorously shaking it. Yamira herself remained both cordial and immensely confused. “When the Arbites told me who was coming, I almost couldn’t believe my ears to hear you returning to Armastus! Oh, if only brother were here to see you again, even if you do have significantly less of a face now!” Cage stopped holding back and burst into laughter, nearly losing both of his cigarettes while Devon’s face was bright red from holding his breath. In spite of this, Yamira put on a hesitant smile, even as she felt her arm was going to be shaken right out of her socket.
“Yes, it’s good to see you as well, Randolph.” Yamira said. “You’ve certainly been…” She glanced up and down at the stout, pudgy man still holding her hand. “Living well.”
“Well as can be, Lady Commissar,” Velour said. He broke his hold and started pacing around the foyer, his staff clanking on the ground with every step. “The life of governance is a tedious one, especially over the entire planet! All this work, paying the tithe, collecting taxes for the tithe, keeping the schola open for trainees, cleaning up the infestation aftermath, dealing with all the picketers and whining Underhivers, and meetings, oh!” He smacked his forehead with the back of his hand, nearly swooning over. “The meetings! How they bore me to tears! How father ever managed them for so many years, I’ll never know.” He withdrew his hand and sighed. “But, such is my life.”
“Clearly you suffer more than others,” Cage said, rolling his eyes.
“Exactly!” Velour proclaimed. “Why can’t most people see that? You clearly must be a wizened man, sir bodyguard.”
“Thank you,” Cage said, bowing slightly with a smug grin. “Why can’t most people see that?” Yamira rolled her eye, and Amber finally decided to speak up again, clearing her throat.
“We thank you for kindly hosting us for this meeting, Lord Governor.” Amber said. “Is there anywhere we can discuss things in a more comfortable environment?” Velour stared at the pony again, a mirthful look on his flabby face. No doubt he was picturing how amusing it was to see farm animals speaking like they were people.
“Oh, of course, of course,” Velour said. He patted Amber on the cheek,and she partially stepped back in barely-veiled disgust. “We can retire to my dining hall. I can have the cooks prepare a feast for us all, though I’m uncertain if we have grass to properly feed your palate.”
Amber’s forced smile wrenched itself onto her face. “I’m sure I’ll be fine with what you have, Lord Governor,” she said. “Lead the way.” Velour lightly nodded, plodding off westward to the dining hall, gesturing with his staff for the others to follow. Once sufficiently out of earshot, Amber sputtered and followed after, keeping her head lowered and her eyes narrowed.
Cage and Devon followed behind, with Yamira in the far back. As she followed behind, a creeping sensation ran across her unmarred skin. The casualness of this apparently important affair seemed off to her, furthermore the lack of guards within the premise seemed to bode ill. Such suspicions may simply be paranoia brought on by stress, and Yamira dismissed it as she ventured into the corridors of Velour’s manor. She did pause in her stride, only briefly, at the sound of hissing from one of the empty rooms.
‘Leaking steam pipe, most likely.’ Yamira thought, shrugging to herself and moving along. There were far more important matters at hand to think about than faulty piping.