Chapter 329: Judgement, Part II
In the three days since the Inquisitor's arrival, it was as though a hex of despair had been cast over the entire planet.
Every festival, every celebration, every public gathering — cancelled.
The streets were nearly deserted. The nobility barricaded themselves inside their estates. Even the common folk in the Mid-Hive and Underhive felt the weight of it, walking with their heads down and their mouths shut.
Kian sensed that the Inquisitor's presence was the prelude to something catastrophic, so he and General Zeppelin hunkered down inside the Zeppelin Estate Tower.
He had no read on this Inquisitor's temperament or methods. Twenty-plus years of back taxes levied all at once could push an entire world over the edge. Better to lie low and observe before making any moves.
But while Kian wanted to stay quiet, the eye of the storm came looking for him.
Early one morning, General Zeppelin appeared with a face like a thundercloud.
"The Planetary Governor is here. He's in the reception hall. Asking for you by name."
Kian's brow creased. This had the stink of bad news.
"If it's good fortune, it won't be trouble. If it's trouble, there's no running from it. Let's go see what the fat man wants."
The two made their way to the reception hall, where the corpulent Governor was already seated.
They'd barely sat down before the Governor spoke.
"Count Voss. I've sold you. You're to become part of the Inquisitor's retinue — his personal bodyguard. You'll follow him across the stars."
Kian and General Zeppelin froze in unison.
Kian said flatly: "Run that by me again. Slower. Because I'm pretty sure I didn't understand a word of it."
General Zeppelin lost it entirely.
"You fat piece of shit! I'm a radiation-sterilised dead end — he's the only family I've got left to look after me in my old age, and you sold him?! How much did you even get for him, you bastard?!"
Faced with their combined bewilderment and fury, the Governor answered with eerie calm.
"If he goes with the Inquisitor, our planet's tithe burden is reduced by 0.05 per cent."
Kian drew a long breath and forced himself to settle.
"So how much is the total tithe?"
The Governor went silent. The room became suffocating.
A long time passed before he spoke again.
"Let me put it to you this way. Our planet has a population of thirty billion. Ten billion inside the Hive, twenty billion outside. Average combined lifespan is forty to fifty years.
Under the tithe schedule Inquisitor Trasolh has set, the average lifespan on this world will plummet to eighteen.
In ten years, projected population drops to twenty-five billion. In fifty years, thirteen billion. In a hundred years, under five billion.
To settle the debt in full — principal, interest, and punitive surcharges — here's what the first decade looks like:
Atmospheric crop-dusters will blanket the planet in herbicide, killing every wild plant and animal on the surface.
After that, every square metre of ground will be planted with crops. Growth accelerants sprayed from atmospheric aircraft will allow harvests every two weeks.
Ten years of that, and every nutrient in the topsoil will be gone. Every natural landscape on this world will be desert.
Once the natural resources are spent, mining begins.
Brutal, unrestrained extraction.
The moment a mineral deposit is discovered, Titan-scale mining rigs will rip it out of the earth. The planet's surface will be pocked with open sores.
The extracted ore will be refined into metals and shipped off-world. The industrial exhaust stays behind in our atmosphere, thickening into permanent toxic cloud cover.
We'll also be required to produce chemical products. The entire Hive will be converted into a chemical processing plant. Toxic effluent and waste gases will be discharged directly into the ocean without treatment.
Our oceans will become a single massive poison reservoir.
In that environment, no one on this planet will live past eighteen. The legal age of adulthood will be lowered to eight.
Eight-year-olds will be assigned light labour at first, then sent into the mines to dig.
When their bodies are on the verge of collapse from exhaustion, men and women will be forcibly paired for breeding.
After the children are born, the parents will be transferred to the chemical plants, where they'll work for a few weeks and die from toxic exposure.
Finally, their corpses will be sent to the food processing facilities, rendered into nutrient-protein rations, and shipped back to their surviving spouses — to nourish the next generation still growing in the womb."
Kian's breath caught. He was stunned.
This systematic, efficient, century-spanning repayment plan — the projected collapse curves for lifespan, population, every measurable indicator of human existence...
When the numbers were laid out that starkly, no sane person could fail to be shaken.
Kian was beyond words.
If this plan went forward as described, this planet would be industrially strip-mined into a dead world.
And the Governor's opening statement — I sold you for a 0.05 per cent reduction — gave Kian a visceral sense of exactly how much he was worth in this equation.
Kian's brow furrowed deeply. His fingers drummed the table in a rapid, restless cadence.
"Governor. Do you have any idea how sharp my sword is? Do you understand what it means to sell me?
If there's one thing I can't stand, it's someone else making my decisions for me. Freedom is the single most important thing in my life.
There is no one in this galaxy who gets to own me. Not you. Not the Inquisitor. Not even Him."
Once the initial shock faded, what Kian felt was anger.
Yes, what the people of this world faced was horrific. But Kian Voss was no bleeding-heart saviour.
He didn't cause this disaster. He had no obligation to carry thirty billion people on his back.
See suffering, feel bad, toss a couple coins and move on. Throwing yourself into the fire alongside them? That was just stupid.
Kian was angry. But someone in the room was angrier.
General Zeppelin stormed forward and cracked the Governor across the face. Twice.
"You bastard! Who gave you the right to decide for him?! He's a nobleman! A free man! You don't have the authority to sell him!"
The Governor took both slaps without flinching. His fleshy cheeks reddened visibly.
He didn't rage. He didn't argue. He simply stood, dropped to his knees in front of Kian, and pressed his forehead to the floor.
"I'm going to die."
The words silenced the room. The Governor spoke again, half to them, half to himself, murmuring:
"Inquisitor Trasolh is a good man. Among Inquisitors, he is surely one of the most merciful.
He's given me three days to settle my affairs. In three days, I will be executed by white phosphorus in Emperor's Square.
Before I die, I want to do one last thing for my planet. For my people."
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