//------------------------------//
// Chapter Eleven 
// Story: Compliance 
// by Mal Masque 
//------------------------------//


Chapter Eleven






“‘Ere we are, Commissar.” said Ruttiger. “Relations Offices, first stop o’ the day, straight ahead.” Yamira sighed as she leaned against the side of the door, watching listlessly as hover cars and personal ships travelled across the skyways. Her scarred face stared back at her in the window’s dulled reflection, blistered and cracked in numerous places, while her unmarred other side was only a crescent in her view. She was tired and weary, not for an abundance of work that she had been faced with, but rather for the monotony and lack of properly fulfilling her Emperor-blessed military duties.

After the crisis on Armastus, Eve and the other Overheads had suggested numerous diplomatic teams consisting of ponies, humans and Gems be sent across the galaxy to spread the word of Merodi Universalis, able to work faster in completing the task set forth by the Emperor of Mankind. This resulted in Yamira’s station being reduced to a mere advisor on Imperium matters. Her days now consisted of delegates coming to her office, asking various asinine questions on worlds in the Imperium and how they functioned, what social faux pas to avoid, what dangerous wildlife existed on the planet itself, all of which were pure tedium that made Yamira wish she had died back in the underground with the Genestealers. She was no Orator or Departmento Munitorum slag, she was a Commissar! This was beneath her, and yet every damn day and every damn question dragged her further below.

Yamira was jostled in her seat as the hover cab came to a stop, nearly bumping her head on the ceiling of the cramped vehicle. She slowly exhaled through her nostrils, letting the pain dull itself - it will come back once her day begins in earnest - and unbuckled herself from her seat. She was used to it, at this point. Yamira opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement, the noises of Celestia City assaulting her ears in force. Diplomats, politicians, tourists and civilians alike were milling about, conversing with each other about their oh-so-perfect lives in the Merodi’s society over the hums and thrums of passing vehicles and starships. Yamira would have spat on the floor, but it would have been a waste of fluid.

“Be back here at 1600 hours, lieutenant.” Yamira ordered. 

“Yes ma’am,” Ruttiger said, tapping his hooked prosthetic on the side of his cab. Yamira tipped her hat and started to walk away, but the Ratling called out to her. “Oh! Ma’am! One t’ing to ask ya before ya go!” Yamira turned back to the cab, regarding Ruttiger with a dulled glare. The Ratling stabbed his cigar with one of his hooks and blew smoke out overhead. “Coupl’a me mates and I are plannin’ on hittin’ the town tonight, and, well, I figured I’d give ya an invitation to join. Y’know, just somethin’ to show the Community that well…” he faltered and cast his long nose downward, unable to finish his statement. Another step in Yamira’s daily routine. In the long rides with Ruttiger as her chauffeur, Yamira had occasionally heard the abhuman mention something about a ‘Community’, prattling on about names she never recognized or events she never cared about. She had her guesses, but kept her thoughts to herself. The abhumans were irrelevant.

“Another time, lieutenant.” Yamira said. “Far too much to do today.”
Ruttiger sighed and pulled his gangly arm back into the cab. “Always gotta be another time….” he grumbled, chewing on the end of his cigar. The cab sputtered back to life and took off into the skyways, the yellow blip vanishing from sight into the flow of traffic. Yamira marched up the stairs, arms folded behind her back to keep her jacket from billowing out behind her. Ponies and other skittish xenos delegates gave her a wide berth, as they had done since she first arrived, but there was always one that seemed intent on being in her path. The one who held the door for her every day. Windmind.

“Good morning, Commissar!” Ambassador Windmind said, cheerily. The dull pain Yamira had felt earlier started to creep back into her skull. “Another pleasant day, isn’t it?” Yamira paid the Tau as little mind as possible as she strode into the building. Worked about as well as using coarse sand as a burn salve. Windmind walked alongside Yamira, her silken tassels wrapped around her blue fingers and a smile upon her face. “You look tired. Another restless night?”

“No.” Yamira said, bluntly.

“I recently received this delicious herbal brew from a small establishment further into the city,” Windmind said. “It does wonders for the mind and spirit, and I think the little gue’lla with the adorable hat said it helps people sleep better. Perhaps it will help you be less tired?” Yamira grit her teeth and hastened her pace, but somehow Windmind kept up, even in that large dress of hers. “I can come by your residency after the day is over and pour you a cup?”
‘I would rather drink poison and chase it with Grox piss.’ Yamira thought. As much as she would like to outright smack Windmind and chase her off, Yamira received enough stares from Merodi diplomats as it was. It hurt her immensely, but cordiality was the only viable response here. “No, thank you.” 

“Some other time, then!” Windmind chirped, still maintaining her sweet smile. How Yamira hated it. “Aun’va teaches that patience is one of the primary virtues of the Greater Good.” Yamira suppressed an urge to vomit at the mention of the Tau philosophy. While she had heard it in mere passing when participating in Crusades against the abhorrent xenos of the Eastern Fringe, it was now bombarding her at every opportunity. Water Caste Tau and their Fire Caste bodyguards frequently passed through the Relations Office and the streets of Celestia City itself, offering to share the wonders of their Greater Good with any who listened. Whether they wanted to or not. In her few weeks of living amongst the Merodi, Yamira had learned more about the Greater Good than most Xeno Biologis researchers.

Respite came swiftly once she approached the elevator, hastily entering and jamming her finger on the button to ascend. Windmind hardly seemed to notice Yamira slipping out of sight, continuing on her way. Yamira breathed a sigh of relief, pressing herself against the elevator wall in one of the few silent moments in her day. Sure, it was partially disrupted by that irksome music that played through the speakers, but so long as it wasn’t someone talking to her, Yamira was fine with it. Just her, the tiny box, and the annoying, fifteen-second loop of piano music.

Her respite was broken when the elevator opened up with a soft ‘ding’. Yamira sighed once again and stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, marching straight towards her office. Or rather, would have, if she didn’t bump into her other daily annoyance. Yamira looked down and saw Amber standing right in front of her, two saddlebags resting on her sides bursting with documents. Despite the change in her station from diplomatic aid to diplomatic advisor, Yamira still saw the skittish pony far more frequently than she would have liked. At least she wasn’t as insufferably saccharine as Windmind.

“O-oh! Good morning, Yamira.” Amber greeted, back-pedalling to properly give Yamira her space. “I was actually making my way to your office. Good timing, huh?”

“I suppose it could be.” Yamira replied. “Dropping off more forms for me to overlook?”

“Huh?” Amber glanced to her side, noting the bustling saddlebags. “Oh! Oh no, these aren’t for you. Eve was just having me run an errand, I was supposed to get these to the Expeditions Office as a favor. No new paperwork for you.”

“Ah, then you should be on your way.” Yamira said. She wasted no time in stepping around the pony and continuing her way down the hall. Amber blinked and hastily followed behind Yamira.
“Wait, I still needed to tell you something important!” Amber exclaimed. Yamira rolled her eye and did not break her pace, leaving Amber no choice but to speed up her trotting. “There’s going to be a meeting coming up that Eve wants you to come to, but I thought-” Yamira stopped in front of her office door, resulting in Amber bumping into the Commissar’s muscular thigh.

“If the Overhead wishes for me to attend a meeting,” Yamira said. “Then she can extend the invitation herself.” Yamira reached out to open the door, but Amber quickly moved to intercept her.

“But it’s who the meeting is with that I think you should know.” Yamira frowned and shoved Amber’s hoof out of the way, pressing the button to open the door. The door slid open and Yamira walked into her office, still only decorated as sparsely the day she arrived, only this time she had a proper rack for her sword and bolt pistol. Yamira wordlessly sat at her desk and examined the paperwork strewn about. Amber was about to enter, but found the entrance blocked, not by the door, but by a mass of partially rotted flesh and metal. Amber gasped, quickly putting a hoof to her chest to ease her breathing, all while glaring at the Servitor. “Gosh darn it, Bell! I told you not to do that anymore!”

“COMMAND NOT RECOGNIZED.” Bell droned. The bell-shaped Servitor wobbled back and forth on its spider-like legs, scampering over to the side of Yamira’s desk. “WELCOME BACK, LADY COMMISSAR.”

“Thank you, Bell,” Yamira said. “Have you received any new messages?”

“NEGATIVE, LADY COMMISSAR.” Bell replied, servos creaking with every chugging motion. “NO NEW MESSAGES RECEIVED.” Amber pouted and furrowed her brow at Yamira and Bell.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to bring that thing here anymore.” Amber said.“

I said I would consider it, then promptly decided ‘no’.”

“You know that Bell gives everyone around here the creeps. It’s a walking metal corpse, for Celestia’s sake!”

“It’s a useful aid and assistant for me in the mundane hours of the day.”

“We can get you an actual assistant, like a Gem or someone else!”

“Those have the capacity to talk back to me. Bell does not.”

“That’s because Bell’s a darn robot with no feelings!”

“Servitor, Bell is nothing like those Abominable Intelligences that I’ve spotted strutting about.” Amber groaned and knocked her head against the side of the doorframe. She tugged at her face with a hoof and furrowed her brow.

“You know,” Amber said. “I think ponies would like you more if you learned to look at things from other perspectives.” Yamira stopped her writing and glared at Amber, the pony’s blood running cold as the half-scarred woman stood up from her seat.

“I don’t need people to ‘like’ me, Ambassador.” Yamira said. “I am a Commissar of the Astra Militarum, I am to inspire people by fear. If the feeble xenos that roam this accursed metropolis find themselves unnerved by my mere presence, then I have done my duty to the Emperor properly.” She walked around her desk, her heels clacking against the floor in slow, methodical steps. “To suggest I look at other perspectives would be a violation of everything I have known from birth. An act that is,” Yamira slammed a balled fist against the wall, the thud echoing like thunder in the small room. “Heretical.” Amber gulped and stepped back into the hall as Yamira approached. She saw her fearful face in Yamira’s dead, lidless eye, terror painted across in sweat across her brow. “You may suggest whatever you wish regarding how matters are handled in your world, but I will not stand for any notion that I should change my world.” She did not wait for Amber to respond and simply closed the door in the Earth pony’s face. 

The silence was deafening as Yamira returned to her desk and resumed her work, only punctuated by the occasional escape of steam from Bell’s metal bodice. Her day went on, scribbling mindlessly on form after form of paperwork. She read through them with the interest of a feline in the face of an obsessively attentive owner. Words blurred together on the white backdrop, all saying much the same thing with only slightly different variations. Support this, culturally appropriate that, militarize these, all of it dull, all of it monotonous, none of which were relevant to a Commissar. Yet, this is what she was consigned to do. Fill out the blanks on sheafs of paper for a higher power she loathed above all others. Yamira could pray for a reprieve, but tempting such a prayer for such selfish needs would be a disrespect towards the God-Emperor.

“LADY COMMISSAR.” Bell said. Yamira inwardly sighed in relief, finally a break in her dull cycle of signing papers and approving forms. 

“Yes, what is it, Bell?” Yamira asked. The Servitor hobbled over to the desk, swaying side to side on spindly legs. Its left eye, dull and lifeless, was now flashing an orange light, blinking on and off as though the dead flesh had functioning eyelids once more. Yamira’s own eye widened in recognition. It had been a while since she had seen her Servitor’s eye glow.

“I HAVE RECEIVED A VOX MESSAGE FROM AN EXTERNAL SIGNUM.” Bell announced. “DESIGNATED: ALPHA PRIORUS. VOX MESSAGE IS INTENDED FOR YOUR LISTENING ALONE.” Yamira nearly jumped out of her seat in jubilation. Finally, a message from high command! After weeks of silence, ever since the Commissariat damned her to this fate of catering to the whims of Xenos and heretics, now she finally received contact! Breaking her composure though, even in the isolation of her office, was not within her code of conduct. She cleared her throat, curled a finger through her blonde hair, and gestured to Bell.

“Play the message then, Bell.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.” Bell’s eye glowed brighter, illuminating its pale face in an orange light. “PLAYING MESSAGE.” Bell tilted its head back and opened its mouth wide, exposing the vox speaker embedded in what once may have been a human throat. Feedback crackled and echoed in Bell’s mouth as the message came through, slow and methodical.

“Commissar Yamira Kalov,” a man’s voice came from Bell’s mouth, wisened and stern, yet Yamira could not recognize whom it may belong to. “I apologize for not contacting you sooner, attempting to hail any sort of vox system onboard this unusual mobile platform the interlopers call a city has proven to be quite arduous. I speak to you on behalf of the Imperium, the High Lords, and the God-Emperor of Mankind Himself.” Yamira couldn’t believe her ears. She leaned forward across her desk, listening with rapt attention. “Destiny shines upon you, Commissar, but it cannot be spoken of so brazenly in enemy territory.” An understandable notion, although Yamira was less than pleased to be left in the dark. “Fret not, for we shall speak face to face on these dire matters soon enough. In three hours as of transmitting this message, I will send a Servo-Skull to you. It will guide you to me, and I shall impart my wisdom onto you. The Emperor protects, Yamira Kalov.”

“Emperor protects.” Yamira replied, placing a hand upon her chest in solemn prayer. Bell closed its mouth and leaned its head forward in a stiff bow. Yamira’s lips slightly curled upwards as she granted the Servitor a pat atop its head. The flesh may be cold and dead, but the machinery within made the construct somewhat warm. “This is marvelous news, Bell. Marvelous news indeed.” The Servitor beeped in approval, its eye no longer flashing but still sounding pleased with itself. It stood upright again and scuttled off into a corner of the room like a crab, while Yamira returned to her seat, glossing over the papers still in need of signing. Yet, Yamira did not reach for her autoquill to continue. There was no need for her to continue the work of the Merodi, restricting her to menial desk duties to maintain their oh-so-perfect image. Her Imperium was calling to her, and she was eager to answer.

The office door slid open, disrupting Yamira’s internal revelry, as a blue-skinned woman wearing a blouse, buttoned with a matching stone, made herself present. Another one of the Gems, a studious Zircon, if Yamira remembered correctly. She strode into the room, her long nose looking down at a holographic discus in her hand, covered in various symbols and sigils Yamira could not recognize.

“Overhead Evening Sparkle would like to speak to you, ma’am.” The Zircon said.

‘Ah, that’s right, Amber Dust was blathering on about that.’ Yamira thought. She rose from her seat and made her way to the door. “Remain stationary until I return, Bell. Acknowledge command.”

“COMMAND ACKNOWLEDGED.” Bell replied. The Zircon spared a look at the Servitor and shuddered, a rare sensation for the inorganic alien. She stepped aside and allowed Yamira to pass, leaving Bell alone in the office once more. The lights went out in the room, only illuminated by the glow of the lumens in the Servitor’s dead eyes.





“I’m sure she’ll be here in just a few minutes,” Eve said, reassuring her guest. “The hallways are a bit… well, labyrinthine is a bit much, but it’s kind of easy to get lost in if you’re not paying attention.” Eve was cut off by the tell-all sound of her office door opening, and the arrival of both the Zircon she had sent and the lady in question, Yamira Kalov, who seemed more interested in looking at the wall than the Overhead herself. A rude gesture, but Eve was getting used to Yamira’s abrasiveness at this point. It didn’t help that when she looked away, the most Eve saw of the Commissar was the mangled and burnt flesh on the other side of her head, dead eye and gaping cheek on prominent display. The Zircon, duties concluded, excused herself and hurried back into the hall.

“You summoned me, Overhead?” Yamira curtly said. She still refused to turn and look at the alicorn, even as she stepped inside. Eve smiled and set her hooves onto the desk.

“There’s someone who just arrived in Celestia City that I’d like you to meet.” Eve said. “In fact, he’s… sitting right here.” Yamira knew that the pony was gesturing to her blind spot, but Yamira felt no particular need to move.

“Another one of your stature, attempting to convince me to see your ways?” Yamira curtly replied. To her own surprise, Eve did not respond, but rather the gentle chuckling of an older man.

“Quite the opposite, my dear,” he said. “Rather someone who is already well versed in our ways.” Yamira’s head jerked so quickly towards Eve and her guest that her neck nearly snapped. Sitting in the chair in front of the Overheads desk was a human, dressed in ceremonial white and red pastoral robes, aged and elegant, with numerous holy rites and scriptures pinned to his body by blood-red wax seals. Chained to his side was an enormous leather-bound sacred book that made Yamira’s pocket booklet seem like a brochure. Atop his head was an enormous white hat that nearly graced the ceiling with its gentle touch, an all-too familiar golden ‘I’ with a skull surrounded by the holy rays of the sun itself embossed on the center. Yamira couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her lips had gone dry and her mouth agape.

“Eh… eh….” Yamira stammered, her posture gone slack. “Eh… eeh…”

“Ecclesiarch Decius XXIII.” Eve said, still smiling. “High Lord of Terra, and head of the Adeptus Ministorum.” Decius rose from his seat and clasped his hands together in a praying bow. Yamira hastily slapped her hands together and repeated the gesture, falling to one knee in compliant submission before the holiest man she had ever laid eyes on.

“It… it is an honor, Your Grace.” Yamira said, quietly. “Such an honor to be before you, Most Holy of Men.”

“Rise, my child.” Decius said. While it was no command, Yamira treated it as though it were the highest of orders. “There is no such need for formalities here, I come not as a man of holy edict, but simply a man wishing to stand beside his fellow man. Err,” he scratched the side of his head, his oversized hat wobbling slightly. “Wo-man, in this case.” Were it not for the burns that had severely damaged her tear ducts, Yamira would have been crying. Instead, she simply nodded and bowed.

“Of course, Your Grace.” she said. Yamira turned back to Eve, her prior gentle face once again shifting to mistrust and loathing. Eve simply kept her smile and gestured to the other vacant chair. Yamira wordlessly sat down alongside Decius, watching the Ecclesiarch’s hat brush against the ceiling with visible marks. The rumors of his hat size were true, apparently.

“Alright, now that you’re both here,” said Eve. “We can begin this little meeting.” Eve levitated a small datapad over from an alcove on her shelf and rested it upon the desk. “As I’m sure you both know, the Emperor’s requirements for the alliance between the Imperium of Man are that all known planets under the Imperium’s control must willingly accept our presence in the universe.” Yamira and Decius both nodded, though Yamira was far more rigid in her nod and Decius had to prevent his hat from falling off with his. “Due to the recent issues we’ve been having with some of the other residents of your galaxy,” she paused to spare a glance to Yamira. Yamira said nothing, simply narrowing her good eye and prompting Eve to continue. “We’ve been forced to re-route our travel path for visiting sectors.”

“Not wanting to risk another Genestealer incursion, are we?” Yamira snidely asked.

“Be polite, Commissar.” Decius said, furrowing his brow. Yamira immediately shut up, but a part of her mind kept insisting how wrong it was that the Ecclesiarch, the voice of the Emperor’s holy word, had just told her to be polite in the presence of a Xenos.

“Right,” said Eve. “Aside from sending multiple diplomatic teams to different planets, we’ll also be keeping a closer eye on the planets we haven’t had direct contact with.” Eve brought up the datapad, displaying several static images of planets. 
“These particular Hiveworlds and Shrineworlds haven’t responded to any of our messages, and the Imperial Fleets that pass through those sectors haven’t told us much about their status. Chances are, they’re ignoring us.”

“As they should.” Yamira said. “Imperial Citizens know far better than to accept transmissions from any power that is not the Imperium of Man.”

“And that’s why we need more support from humans in high positions.” Eve said, setting the datapad down. “More people who are willing to give us a chance.”

“People like myself,” Decius added. “If I am presuming correctly.” Yamira’s gaze snapped to Decius, looking at him as if he grew a second head.

“Excuse me, what?” Yamira stiffly asked. Decius shifted in his seat and planted his hands atop his lap.

“Oh, were you unaware?” he asked. “I presumed that the Overhead had informed you in advance.” Yamira jerked her head back towards Eve, her good eye now bloodshot and her face flushed pale.

“Explain.” Eve flinched under Yamira’s terrifying gaze, but kept herself composed.

“When Merodi representatives first arrived on Terra and spoke with the High Lords,” Eve carefully explained. “Only two of them were actually willing to hear us out, before the Emperor made his own summons. The Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes,” Eve gestured to Decius, smiling. “And the Ecclesiarch here.”

“Much has changed in the Imperial Palace that has broadened my eyes to the galaxy at large,” Decius said. “It is by the Emperor’s own teachings and through my interactions with Him, the Captain-General, and His Sons, that I have learned to see beyond my limited scope. And these ponies and those that accompany them,” he waved a ring-adorned hand about the room. “May do our ailing Imperium some good.”

Everything around Yamira seemed to shatter. Her mind had broken like a stained glass window under the treads of a Baneblade. The Ecclesiarch, the face and voice of the Adeptus Ministorum, a Living Saint in the making, had openly confessed to endorsing Xenos. Everything crumbled around her, breaking away into naught but a black void that sent Yamira down into the depths. Nothing was sacred anymore, the sole bastion of faith that Yamira had in this forsaken dominion of heresy had ceased to be. Best to let the nothingness claim her, spare herself any more suffering.

“Yamira? Yamira?” she heard Eve’s voice call out to her in the dark, muffled and distant. She ignored it, closing her eye and falling ever downwards into the empty void. Let the sweet release of death claim her. “YAMIRA!” Suddenly, a wash of wetness rushed over her face, drenching her clothes and matting her hair. Yamira flailed and sputtered, wiping the water away from her stinging eyes. By the time she stopped, she felt her seat back underneath her and saw that the darkness had been stripped away. She was still in Eve’s office with the Ecclessiarch.

“Is everything alright, Commissar?” Decius asked, concern evident in his voice.

“You went slack for a few minutes,” Eve said. In her magical grasp was an empty vase and a bundle of flowers, dripping droplets of water onto the floor. “Are you feeling well? I can call for a nurse if you need.”

“No, no, I’m fine….” Yamira said. She removed a handkerchief from her jacket and dabbed at her face. “I’m… perfectly fine.” It was a forced statement, but causing a scene in front of the Ecclesiarch would bring nothing but trouble. Eve set her flowers back into the vase and set them aside, but kept a wary look on her face.

“As I was saying…” Eve continued. “Ecclesiarch Decius has agreed to join a few of the diplomatic teams meeting with the planetary governors, and addressing the general populace as well. Your words have power, sir, and we’re very happy that you’re willing to help us.”

“Thank you for allowing me this opportunity, Overhead Sparkle.” Decius said. “I’ve been cooped up in the Palace for far too long.” He leaned forward in his seat and smirked. “It’s about dang time I put my station to good use.” The Ecclesiarch’s voice briefly went coarse and gravelly with that proclamation, but swiftly returned to normal with a clearing of his throat. “Pardon, still working that out.”

“Of course, Ecclesiarch.” Eve said. “Now, Yamira,” Yamira stuffed the handkerchief back into her pocket, still very wet and very bemused. “I’ll be putting you in charge of the Ecclesiarch’s protection. I know bodyguarding isn’t part of your job description, but I believe that more humans accompanying him will raise our chances at approval.” Yamira said nothing, her mind was still processing the concept of the Ecclesiarch praising the efforts of the hated Xenos. “We’ll be making our first stop on this new galactic tour on…” Eve swiftly searched through the datapad, names and numbers flying past in rapid rows. “Erdun V, a Shrineworld. Yamira, you’re free to take the remainder of the day off.” 
Yamira stood up and exited the room without a word, even ignoring the passing farewell from Decius. She stormed down the halls in a hurried gait, hiding her furious face from any passers by. As the door slid shut behind the Commissar, Eve slumped in her seat, downcast. 

“She’s such a difficult woman to work with.” Eve sighed. “The Gems were a stubborn bunch at first, but this blows them out of the water.” she tilted her head towards Decius, who also seemed a bit dour. “Why would the High Lords even send a person who propagates wars over ending them to be a diplomat?” Decius raised an eyebrow, an act that nearly resulted in his hat falling off his balding head.

“Truth be told,” Decius said. “I actually don’t know. When the Emperor demanded that we send some form of representative to serve as liaison, none of the High Lords could provide a suitable candidate, especially with the doddering old windbags arguing more over inane rulings and their own fecal matter than focusing on actual issues. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when the representative was chosen for us, Commissar Kalov.”

“Then who did choose for you, Decius?” Eve asked. “Who sent Yamira Kalov to us?”