I make myself a cup of tea and check up on my build queues in the workshop. Yes, I could look at the data, but really, I just want an excuse to move about a bit to calm down.

There isn’t much to look at and I run through a few check-ins, seeing how JK-404 is getting on with her assigned research and take a look at Killovie Signi’s schedule.

The Vanus Assassin is alternating between officially stress testing my Fleet’s Security, both physically and digitally. Unofficially, she is snooping on everyone in the system to see if anyone has an item that would interest my Acquisitions and Assimilation department. There have been no notable successes and I do not need more curios. My crew have made a few minor trades though.

I conclude that Killovie is busy, though nothing she is up to is urgent. Judging by her leaderboard position on Conscript Carnage, a noosphere game, I suspect that she is a little bored and slacking off somewhat.

I return to my sleeping pod and lie on my front. My frustration builds as I am unable to get comfortable with stupid snakes getting in the way. Before I take any irreversible, though unregrettable actions, I watch the other recording. This one comes from Lyre’s rosette.

The moment I close my eyes, the world around me shifts as I follow Raphael up the passenger steps on the side of Lyre’s gun cutter, a type of armed shuttle. The interior is low and narrow. I don’t think an armoured Space Marine could fit without ducking and shimming sideways, which is, knowing Lyre, was a deliberate design choice for his custom shuttle.

Significant ornamentation is present throughout, mostly silver skulls, black Ⅰ’s, and golden aquila. I laugh a little as the decorations remind me of a Mitchell and Webb sketch.

Hamiz should change his name to Hanz. It would suit him.

There is a small lounge on board with grox leather armchairs, a Nalwood recaf table, a truly outrageous luxury, and a small shrine to the Emperor carved from mutton fat jade. Sandalwood incense wafts from a tiny platinum burner sitting on the altar. A handwritten copy of the Lectitio Divinitatus, penned by Kalendra Asceline, lies open on the altar behind a glass case. Several other religious works and a few military treaties fill a small bookshelf.

I dare say that an Imperial Navigator would be impressed by such a display of wealth; even I am a little jealous of Lyre’s acquisitions. Were they genuine gifts or has Lyre been using his position to enrich himself? Are they genuine or fakes? If they are genuine items, placing these luxuries on a gun cutter of all things is profligate to the point of foolhardiness.

One of my food printers has recently been installed in the wall. A custom job that has been altered fit the painted plasteel panelling.

Lyre waves Raphael to a seat. Raphael sits, his posture firm and upright. Lyre slumps in his chair, the constant scowl on his face fading away. They sit in silence for six minutes.

“Well boy?”, says Lyre. “Speak up.”

Raphael lets out a small sigh, stands, and helps himself to a recaf, from the food printer, then sits back down. He sips his recaf with an obnoxious slurp.

“Handy little machines,” says Raphael.

“Oh, now you’re an Inquisitor, you think you can try my patience as well?”

“Your words might have worked on me a couple of decades ago. You could at least do me the courtesy of being precise in your questioning, just like you taught me, or do you think I have been going soft with,” Raphael gently rubs the leather of his armchair, looks over at the altar and takes a big breath, “the little indulgences that association with Aldrich has brought me.”

“Aldrich is it?” says Lyre.

“He’s a friendly guy.”

“Bah, you’re just too young to see it.”

“Ah, the mystery ‘it’. Yet another useful conversational tool to the unwary and feeble minded, prone to filling the unknown with the most paranoid of thoughts. What do you actually want, Lyre? I do actually have a job to do.”

“Ridiculous. An Inquisitor employed by a man of lesser rank and means.”

“You seem determined to play games today. Fine. Let me remind you that we spent days discussing this. I was to befriend Magos Issengrund and you were to pressure him. One to guide, one to cajole, and between us discover the threat he poses, then steer his vast resources at the Enemies of Man, or so you had me believe. Only it hasn’t worked like that at all, has it?

“Aldrich is only too happy to blast every belligerent Xeno and Cultist that appears on his augur and does so with a thoroughness that leaves no openings to fish for concessions or accusations like you’d hoped. He leaps into combat like a man with a personal grudge against all corruptive influences. He might even tell me why if I asked.

“That’s not the only problem. You have not been forthright with me with your plans. That little song and dance you played aggravating Brigid was a complete flop, nor was it necessary unless there is a new agenda you care to tell me about.

“By the time I’m done with my one hundred years of service, I’ll be a Magos. I’ll have a ship and body worthy of a Rogue Trader and a warrant of my own will be easy to acquire. I’m already an Inquisitor. There will be no bureaucracy I cannot slice and I’ll be in a far better position to perform my service to the Imperium.

“I’ll actually be a peer capable of keeping Magos Issengrund in check, should that even prove necessary, which I doubt. Nevertheless, that will mark the completion of our agreed course. All I have to do is not stab Aldrich in the back, yet here you are, dragging me on to your gun cutter for a less than clandestine meeting after thoroughly enraging the one person who can help me with my personal goals.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I can’t march to your drum, Inquisitor Hamiz, if you keep changing the beat!”

“Have you confirmed the presence of an STC?” says Lyre.

Raphael sighs, “Changing the subject? Yes, there was an STC recovered from the Drukhari vessels. I am a little sceptical of its origins because the power armour it contains has already been put into production. I was apparently uncorrupted, which is unlike the Dark Eldar who so love to twist Humanity’s creations. I suspect that Aldrich’s STC is significant and he is using it to drip feed advancements into his fleet over time. Maybe he traded with the Demiurge.

“Whatever happened is far in the past or future and beyond my sight, nor is the responsibility of the Inquisition so long as he does not hoard it. We would have to call in some specialists from the Ordo Machinum to be sure. Neither you nor I care to give up the credit, however.”

“I agree that two Inquisitors is quite enough,” says Lyre. “Have you or Killovie managed to get access to Magos Issengrund’s STC database? How is data stored?”

“You’d already know that if you didn’t keep trying to hack his vessels and get cut off. That’s public knowledge.”

“Then it won’t impact your relationship with Magos Issengrund to tell me.”

Raphael chuckles, “Do you need some spirits to go with that salt and citrus?”

“Answer the question.”

“There is one complete public database available on Iron Crane. The other vessels all have lesser databases that focus on what their void ship needs, a few generic designs, and nothing else.

“The data looms for all vessels are built from read only cogitators and the data is unstable. Were you to try and steal the data loom, or the memory chips within, you would have to maintain power or everything would be lost. Even if you were to scan the data loom and copy every single atom perfectly, you still wouldn’t be able to steal the STCs. Something about everything being stored as a one and a zero simultaneously that I do not understand. I honestly think Aldrich is daring someone to try.

“The joke, of course, is that there is no need to steal his STCs. So long as you pass the simulations, practical exams, and other qualifications, you can just pay Bytes and learn whatever you like. Some knowledge requires a specific rank or peer approval. Arcanotech, for example, has limited opportunities as there aren’t many chances to join a team that’s building and testing Warp drives and other dangerous technologies.

“If one were so inclined, they could do nothing but study and socialise for a thousand years then walk away with everything Aldrich owns. Anyone who was willing to learn everything that Aldrich knows probably wouldn’t want to leave though in case they missed out on something a few decades later, especially as Aldrich keeps pulling STCs out of his engineered arse.

“If you wanted to bypass a systematic education, a person could, in theory, talk Aldrich into directly programming everything into your brain and implants. He hasn’t even done that for his kids or Fleet Command though, so expecting him to hand over his data to even the most decorated of Forge Masters is laughable.

“I’ve no doubt that learning the whole database the official way would be a sisyphean task as Aldrich occasionally uses the database’s unstable nature to delete everything and reupload it with new additions. No one knows where he stores the master database, or how he uploads it as he’s never been seen with a device large enough to do so.

“I suspect that a major point of this Forge World pilgrimage he is planning is to sell everything before one of his people manages to learn it all and run off with it, making stealing his toys not only a pointless endeavour, but one that cuts an errant Tech-Priest of from any hope of discourse with their peers or further advancements and discoveries.

“So, was my answer to your satisfaction, Inquisitor?”

Lyre says, “You’ve gotten sassy.”

“Yet you are the man who raised me up because I am an extrovert and can perform the tasks that you cannot.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“I doubt you’d notice. It would be buried beneath all of the others.”

“It is always those we care for that can wound us most deeply.”

“I’ve given you vital information today, Lyre. If you want this cooperation to continue, I am going to need you to reciprocate. Stop prevaricating and tell me what I need to know so we can keep this sickly beast we call civilization from being torn apart.”

“Fine. I will share a little with you. Magos Issengrund has no ties to the Imperium. If I can tie him down through the Navigators and erode his power base by creating a division between him and his wife, pester him with treasure seekers, and sic the God Botherers on him he’ll be too busy to build up his power base and create a pesky pocket empire, or lead a Mechanicus renaissance. We’re screwed if the Mechanicus gets enough power they think they can survive without the rest of the Imperium.”

“Really? That’s it? Those are valid concerns, yet there must be more to it.”

“Indeed. Ever since we met, Magos Issengrund has constantly challenged the authority of the Inquisition. We cannot afford to be ridiculed without retaliating. The Imperium is held together by fear. Fear of the Inquisition. The moment it becomes known that we can be challenged and that we did not strike back against the offender for fear of their power, the Imperium is done.”

Raphael scoffs, “What of faith in the Emperor and Machine God? Our fear of Xenos, starvation, and loneliness? To imply that it is the Inquisition alone that holds the reins of the Imperium is to indulge a fallacy that our order was founded to eliminate. Many who defy the Imperium don’t even know we exist! I have no doubt that among that nonsense you told me the truth. You might even believe some of what you said. I even agree with it. It was, however, a rather selective argument. You can do better. You just hate Aldrich too much to make the effort.”

The silence between the Inquisitors grows long and intense.

“It was the samples, wasn’t it,” says Raphael. “You were hoping to sell them.”

Lyre tuts, “Of course not. I am no stud peddler.”

Raphael hums, “Well, just in case you were after those samples, let me tell you how dumb that is. If you want good Navigator DNA, you could grab a sample off Fyona or Silas, who have been treated by Aldrich, then print testicles and ovaries from a modified food printer and harvest as much genetic material as you wish.

“Psyker samples, and Navigator samples even more so, are tricky to clone. You’d have a search on your hands to find out who could actually manage it. Try it without proper precautions and you’ll have a Warp incursion at best. No doubt you could find the answers if you searched enough Inquisition Fortresses. Once you succeed, you could syphon whatever resources from the Navigator houses you please. Or, you know, you could just have Silas’s servants toss him off until the well is dry. He does so love his debauchery.” This content belongs to N0veI.Fiɾe.net

Lyre swallows, “I see.”

“The problem with that plan though is that Aldrich has already cut that idea off at the knees. The state of House Ortelius and their breeding practices has convinced him to be generous.

“No STCs. No white gold. No favours. All that wealth, oozing through your fingers. Tragic, isn’t it?”