Chapter 340: Side Work
"Could he actually be a genius?"
The Inquisitor murmured to himself, staring at the report — troop numbers exceeding his projections by a full thirty per cent.
Kian dropped into a chair and fished out a cigarette. A flick of golden psychic flame lit it.
Inquisitor Trasolh watched him ignite a smoke with the Emperor's own holy fire. His eyebrow twitched.
He moved on.
"Now that the Count has completed his assignment, there's no reason to linger here. We depart immediately for the next world.
Our next destination is a space station built into a large asteroid — a major waypoint for void traffic. We need to secure at least two warships from their docks.
Count Voss, I'd like you to handle this one as well."
Kian heard "more work" and nodded again.
"Sure, it's yours. But, my lord..."
He smiled his most agreeable smile. Kian Voss was not a man who worked for free.
"You won't mind if I conduct a little personal business on the side while I'm at it?"
The Inquisitor paused, then chuckled.
"Count Voss, as long as the mission is completed on time and in full, your remaining hours are your own."
With official sanction in hand, Kian was ready to go all out.
The fleet — now four capital ships strong — plunged back into the Warp and emerged a week later at the target.
The destination was a super-station built into an enormous asteroid, home to twenty million void-dwellers. The rock was studded with shipyards, and its position at a major intersection of void routes meant those yards were packed with hundreds of transports and dozens of warships.
Kian took a shuttle down to the asteroid and was received by the local Planetary Governor.
The full red-carpet treatment, same as before.
Three Planetary Governors encountered so far, and every single one tipped the scales north of 250 kilograms. The spirit of Nurgle's indulgence lived on in Imperial bureaucracy.
This particular Governor was extraordinarily tall — 2.3 metres — and his officials were similarly stretched, ranging between two and 2.3 metres.
Height, however, did not mean strength. Their frames were the product of generations spent in low-gravity environments: bones light as balsa wood, muscles with the density of wet paper.
Giants to look at, but drop them on a world with standard gravity and every last one of them would be crawling on all fours.
Hundreds, thousands of generations in micro-G had stripped them of any capacity for high-gravity activity. They were locked to this asteroid for life. No other planet would have them.
The tall Governor and his tall officials received Kian in the banquet hall. The spread was almost impressively dismal: bowls of grey nutrient paste.
Kian, accustomed to real food, didn't spare the space-dwellers' jelly-cups a second glance. He cut straight to business.
"I've heard... that you're all planning to rebel."
The Governor recoiled in shock. Frantic denials ensued.
Kian raised an eyebrow. "So I've misunderstood you?"
The Governor nodded vigorously. Pledged his loyalty. Proclaimed the Emperor's eternal glory.
Kian gave another thoughtful hum, then addressed the Governor:
"Stand up and turn around. Face away from me."
The Governor had no idea why, but complied.
The enormous, rotund figure rose, turned, and presented the back of his head — complete with its several layers of fleshy folds — to Kian.
Kian's eyes went wide. He slammed the table.
"How dare you! You turned your back to me — you have the skull of a traitor!"
The Governor panicked. Explanations were offered. Loyalty was demonstrated. Two Sword-class escort frigates were presented as tribute.
Mission complete. Two frigates secured.
Kian's demeanour became instantly warm and friendly.
He unclipped the Rosette replica from the Demon-Cleaver's pommel and tucked it into his pocket.
Official business was done. Time for the side hustle.
Kian crooked a finger. Shiv and Little Joel marched up carrying armloads of cheap trade goods, which they spread across the banquet table.
"Gather round, everyone! Look what I've brought you!
These are genuine off-world treasures, imported from exotic planets at great personal expense. One credit each! Or three for two! Buy more, save more!"
The Governor and his officials peered at the assortment of trinkets. A pile of random knick-knacks they had absolutely no use for. Awkward looks were exchanged. Nobody wanted to buy.
Kian's bull-eyes widened. His hand drifted toward his pocket — toward the Rosette.
The Governor nearly had a stroke. His fragile heart could not survive another round of Inquisitorial interrogation.
"We'll buy! We'll buy them all! Please, my lord, have mercy! But... what form of payment would you prefer?"
The Imperium of Man had no unified currency. Inter-planetary transactions were pure barter.
And Kian had his eye on exactly two things this asteroid had to offer: void-fighters, and the pilots who flew them.
"I noticed quite a few spacecraft patrolling outside your asteroid. Tell you what — give me eighty, maybe a hundred fighters, and you can have all of this merchandise. You're getting the deal of a lifetime here."
The officials stared at the pile of knick-knacks in stony silence.
Kian's hand drifted toward his pocket again. The Governor intervened before the Rosette could make its appearance.
"Don't! Don't take that out! We can talk about this like reasonable people, my lord!"
The Governor thought for a moment, then said something that caught Kian completely off guard.
"My lord, all of our void-fighters are currently assigned to active defensive duties. We have significant pirate activity in this region, and without our fighters, we cannot protect our territory.
However, I do have one surplus Fury interceptor. I can give that to you, free of charge."
Kian's eyes lit up. Now this man knew how to play the game.
"Show me. Take me to my fighter. Now."
The Governor cleared his throat.
"My lord, the fighter is yours. But in return, might I ask you to help us resolve a problem that has been plaguing us for some time?"
Kian recognised a quest unlock when he saw one. He told the man to speak freely.
"My lord, as you can see, our asteroid sits at a crossroads. Ships dock here almost daily.
Rogue Traders, pirates, pilgrims — every sort of strange and unusual traveller passes through.
Inevitably, they bring foreign species with them. Some of these species are extremely dangerous. Specifically... Genestealers."
Kian hissed through his teeth, eyes snapping wide.
"Your station has a Genestealer infestation?"
He immediately activated his Warp-sight and scanned the Governor's psychic aura.
Genestealers were a Tyranid infiltration organism — a sleeper unit that could infect humans and assimilate them into the Hive Mind's collective will.
Short of drawing blood and running laboratory analysis, it was nearly impossible to identify an infected person by appearance alone.
Fortunately, a psyker had a much simpler method. When the Tyranids infected a human, they used a form of psychic contamination to bind the host's loyalty to the Hive Mind — a brainwashing process.
That contamination fell within the psychic spectrum. Any psyker worth the title could detect the shift in a person's psychic field.
Kian swept his Warp-sight across the Governor and his officials. Their psychic signatures were stable — unmistakably human, with no trace of xenos contamination.
He let out a breath. If those readings had come back dirty, the Demon-Cleaver would already be swinging.
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you