NOVEL NEXT Chapter Forty-Five
We pull up outside of a tall iron fence. Behind it, a series of round towers with conical roofs are connected with stone bridges over gardens and large halls. The structure is lit with ever burning flames likely powered by the minds of the residents and directed by the large scale runework scribed upon the walls.
“Thanks for letting me win,” says Thorfinn.
I detach my helmet off and smirk, “Noticed that did you?”
“How could I not? You were controlling my bike the whole time. This is much more difficult to drive than those overburdened chimeras of yours.”
“There’s no better way to win than intimidation and fielding weaker units partway through a conflict is a great way to set a trap.”
“I doubt it helps your accountants sleep at night.”
“I’ve never had any trouble.”
Thorfinn sighs, “Of course you do all your own books. You have an abacus in your head.”
“That and more,” I nod.
The jetbikes trail us as we walk between barred iron gates and I send them to the stableyard on our right. We continue through the grounds chatting and peering at the gardens, but don’t deviate on our path to the largest round stone tower.
The tower is one-hundred and sixty metres tall and forty metres wide with small arched windows, multiple balconies and two bridges leading to other buildings. A bulky porch with a thick wooden door leads to a reception hall where we wait to be guided to the headmaster’s office on the second floor.
While observing the psykers trudging up and down the stairs I realised that, without lifts, rather than treasuring the view and silence at the top of the tower, all the administration was on the lower floors so it was easy for people to reach and the headmaster was spared from a string of sweaty supplicants.
Our guide knocks quietly then leads us into an outer office. Two sofas huddle in the corner by a fireplace and, on the opposite side of the room, is a long shared desk with a couple chairs.
One chair is occupied and a middle aged man in tailored martial robes greets us and gestures to the sofas. The guide departs and we wait a little longer. A minute before our appointment is due, the secretary looks over to the headmaster’s door.
“The headmaster is ready for you,” he points at the thick wooden door, “please go in.”
“Thank you,” I say.
We stand and enter. The office is filled with books and files as well as several hunting trophies, like large antlers, and a fur rug from a species of woolly rhino megafauna. A top hat hangs from a stand by the door.
A man in his fifties, with thick, shoulder length red curls, stands in the centre of the room with a smile on his face. He straightens his black and silver waistcoat.
“Magos Isengrund, Captain Ursus, I am Ailean Nan Sop. Please call me Ailean, or Headmaster, whichever makes you the most comfortable.”
“Then Aldrich will do for me, Ailean. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ailean. Call me Thorfinn.”
“Likewise, Aldrich, Thorfinn.” He points at a seating area similar to the one in the outer office, but with extra animal furs. “Please sit. Refreshments are inbound.”
We follow Ailean’s suggestion and I marvel at the texture of the fur, taking care to lock my armour so it takes all the weight, rather than the sofa.
“Did you hunt all these animals yourself?” I say.
“No, just the stag.” Aileen looks over at the antlers. “One of the graduation criteria is to organise and venture on an expedition to the wilderness and hunt a large animal. It has become a tradition for each headmaster to donate their prize from their qualifying hunt to this office.
“Fortunately the room is quite large and nervous students are prone to accidents when they visit, so we haven’t filled the space up yet,” he chuckles.
“I thought Marwolv psykers didn’t train for war,” I say.
“We don’t, but that’s no excuse not to practise self-defence and build confidence. Placing as many blocks as possible between us and the whispers of the warp is a necessary part of what we do here and a lifelong pursuit. One may graduate from class, but not from study. The Clubhouse only has permanent members.”
I nod and relax a little, “That is stricter than I expected from the first impression I received.”
“You saw the many advertisements?”
“I did.”
“Providing joyful pursuits, in moderation and variety, is one of the best ways to maintain mental stability. Why chase uncertain temptations when one is happy? There will always be those who fail, or reach for the forbidden, but with supportive peers and frequent counselling we catch almost all problems before they begin.
“Our establishment in every settlement allows for swift deployment of suppressive forces against those unfortunate few who slip through the cracks or are forcefully assaulted from the immaterium.”
“Thank you for the explanation. I’d hate to see all my investments go up in warpfire.”
“I’ve no doubt. Now that you are both more relaxed, please elaborate on the initial reason you requested this meeting for.”
“Alright”, I nod. “I’ve come into conflict with Marwolv’s miniature blue menace, the tau, and my efforts are yet to yield why they were kidnapping the Gael Democracy’s citizens. I would like to know if you could assist me in my sleuthing, or if you already have results of your own you would be willing to divulge.”
Thorfinn frowns, “After you gave us the recording, I led the skyguard to expel them from the embassy. No tau have entered Pearroc since then, though Envoy Lynu does have a floating machine they contact us with once a week to see if the government has changed its policy.”
“May I see this recording?” says Aileen.
“Sure.”
I send a command to my armour and it projects the engagement in miniature upon the coffee table. Beyond the table float more holo-screens, each showing unaltered video from different vehicles and later upclose clips from servitors. The audio is quiet and clear from one source at a time, rather than multiple streams like the picts.
“Every time I see that I shiver,” says Thorfinn. “I’m so glad they left without a fuss.”
“That engagement looked one sided,” says Aileen, “Is that really the case? How does their technology compare to the Imperium?”
“It was closer than it looks. I outnumbered them and caught them in the open and they were not expecting my intervention. Comparing technology is like trying to compare a rabbit with a carrot. They’re both living but their survival approach comes from two entirely different evolutionary bases, so don’t take my evaluation as an immovable truth.
“The Imperium’s best technology is far beyond the tau, especially arcanotech, warp based technologies, or however else you wish to define such things. It’s an absolute miracle the tau haven’t killed off large swathes of their population while they experiment with arcanotech. I can only assume their safety protocols are excellent and they likely have had help from other xenos and stolen a lot of knowledge.
“However, the technology the tau produce and maintain at scale, such as their weapons and vehicles, is superior to the Imperium. On the other end of the scale, the Imperium produces so many infantry and machines that it just doesn’t matter how good the tau equipment is and, against our elite forces, such as the space marines, inquisition, or adeptus mechanicus, the tau will struggle without a significant tactical and numerical advantage.”
“I see, so it depends on the situation,” says Aileen. “How does that apply to ours? Will the Imperium stand with us if the tau persist in their abductions or commit to a forceful assimilation?”
“My priorities lie with my own needs. I will support where I can and the more cooperation I receive from the Gael Democracy and its factions, the greater my capacity to provide aid will be. I don’t want to depart and there is much to lose if I do, that doesn’t mean I won’t if interacting with the planet puts my vessels at risk.”
“Can’t spend it if you’re dead, eh, Aldrich?” Thorfinn lightly elbows my side. He looks a little pale.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I sigh. “I can fit tens of thousands of people on my ships, but there’s millions of people on Marwolv, so let's hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“A more than generous view,” says Aileen.
“I’m not one to watch people die if I don’t have to. As for the other half of your question, Aileen, I can easily beat the tau so long as I hold orbital superiority. The problem is that attacking with such devastating weapons obliterates the ecosphere, as in it puts the planet in eternal snow and perpetual duststorms, sometimes for decades. A ground war would be more challenging for me and, quite frankly, not worth it.
“Orbital bombardments would cause mass famine and, for the tau, make taking land rather pointless and thus negate the point of an invasion: seizing Marwolv’s workforce and its mineral and agricultural wealth. It will be some time before you have an industrial capacity sufficient to exceed the cost of a hostile takeover. It’s much safer for the tau to sit under the waves where it’s hard for me to target them and just wait for me to leave, which is why I’m putting effort into Marwolv.”
Thorfinn hums, “So the tau will wait until a tipping point, hoping that you leave, and undertake hostile action just before they think they will no longer be able to win so they will have to risk it, even with you in orbit.”
“Well, there’s always the chance they decide to live in peace or build a new vessel and move to another planet,” I say.
“That is unlikely,” says Aileen. “Which leads me to the reason why I agreed to this meeting and my answer to your information request.
“As I am sure you know, some psykers are prescient and catch glimpses of the future during meditation and sleep. The visions started with the warpstorm that delivered the tau and continue to this day. There is no violence or terror, however, beyond a specific point, a point that varies from ten to fifty years from now, these dreams cease. These prescient psykers hit a wall and can see no further.
“It is my belief this institution is at risk.”
Aileen stands and begins to pace up and down his office, “Marwolv’s psykers have always distrusted the tau. A subversive, psychic shroud chokes these tau’s thoughts and we fear that were we to align ourselves with them, we ourselves would be put at risk of having our own thoughts stifled and controlled.
“I suspect citizens have been kidnapped to hide that they are taking the psykers among them so that the tau can research a way to counter our strength and reduce our credibility, thereby clearing our resistance to cultural assimilation.
“The Clubhouse is the only cross-border political faction of relevance on Marwolv and, without it, the Gael Democracy and other sovereignties would be forced to turn to the tau to police their psykers as they are the only other force with the firepower to suppress corrupt psykers, robust fauna, and other ...non-standard threats.”
“The Clubhouse has no physical proof of our observations and beliefs. Magos Issengrund, your distaste of these xenos has been recognised and we wish to cooperate with you, as the imperial representative, to counter the tau.”
I smile and point to the sofa, “You’re going to send that rug to an early grave, Headmaster. Why don’t you sit back down?”
Aileen huffs and sits. He folds his arms and places his leg on his knee then stares at me.
“Thank you for speaking your earnest thoughts,” I say. “I am glad that we have shared our respective views without fuss and that an accord is possible. What would you like from this imperial representative?”
If anyone ever discovers how much I bluff or the authority I presume, my back will look like a porcupine from all the knives.