by Tara Basi
Harder assumed he was speaking to Eva and readied himself to return to the Cruel- to-Be-Cruel.
“You too Commander.”
He was surprised and a little disgusted. The factory floor? It was bound to be awful. Transport spheres enveloped them and as quickly dissolved to reveal the place Truculent had brought them. He had been right to assume disgust. It was a vast space filled with an organic structure resembling a tree with thousands of regularly shaped trunks that vanished below the floor. It appeared to be processing the natives, in their billions, for their Crimson. He could smell their slow death and another stench that wasn’t immediately obvious. Studying the structure more closely he could see clouds of black dots circling the bowers and branches of the construct. The higher Harder looked so the clouds became thicker, larger and more numerous. The black mist stank of bitter spit and blood. The whole place was absurdly wasteful. Was that why Truculent had brought him here, to laugh at the ridiculous manner in which the animals were being farmed? He didn’t think wasting the Empires resources on farming Crimson was something to be amused about, even when it was done efficiently. This factory’s method of operation defied logic.
“What do you think?” Truculent asked.
Harder knew that Truculent had to be addressing Eva. He continued to study the stupidity towering above him and wondered if he would ever get the opportunity to question Eva further about her… facts.
“Harder?” Truculent prompted.
He faced Truculent. Puzzled. Priests gave Defenders instructions related to Regulation. Defenders carried out those instructions. Priests and Defenders did not engage in idle conversation about matters unrelated to Regulation.
“High Priest, I’m not sure I understand. Do you wish this factory cleansed?”
Truculent looked horrified, “Gods Harder, absolutely not. It is to be defended as if the Emperor himself had taken up residence.”
Harder winced. What an absurd proposition. It was insulting to the Emperor.
“Harder, don’t looked so shocked. I want to talk to you freely. I wish us to engage in a confessional. The future of the Empire is at stake.”
Harder was shaken by Truculent’s suggestion of a confessional. During a confessional an Inquisitor and a Priest may reveal their innermost thoughts to each other. They could do so with the complete confidence that their utterances would never be revealed to another; so long as those utterances were neither treasonous nor blasphemous. Harder could only think to say, “We’re not alone.”
“Ten cycles till the first of the two facts are enacted.” Eva whispered.
“What?” Truculent said, looking at Eva. “Ignore her. Well?”
“I am not here,” Eva said, as though it was obvious.
Harder couldn’t stop thinking of Eva’s shattering prophesies: Emperor-Cardinal Truculent, Prime Regulator Harder, and then… Emperor Harder. He glanced at the savage, the factory manager. The animal had accompanied them to the factory floor. It would be impossible for such a primitive creature to comprehend their conversation. Not without active translation.
“Obviously the native will not be privy,” Truculent said, probably guessing Harder’s concern.
He could see nothing to be gained by refusing Truculent’s offer of a confessional and he might learn something about Eva. “I would be honoured to share a confessional bond with the High Priest of Sector Seventy-Six.”
“As would I be honoured to share a confessional bond with the Inquisitor Commander of Sector Seventy-Six.”
“Are there any chairs?” Truculent directed at the animal.
The savage had obviously been terrified when Eva had reappeared during his conversation with Truculent. The factory manager was probably still traumatised by his first encounter with Eva and now her body was covered in torn flesh and blood from her exercises. Even so, since appearing on the factory floor the pathetic savage had managed to look even more fearful. It was as if this place with its strange organic structure was gnawing at his soul. Did these animals even have souls? It was so distracted it hadn’t heard Truculent’s query.
Truculent prodded the creature with his finger, “Tippese, seats?”
The factory manager jumped and stopped staring fearfully at the swirling black clouds high overhead. “Seating? In the Yard? Ah. No. We never come here. By choice,” the savage said, his voice trembling.
Truculent sighed. Immediately a pair of janitors appeared clutching an assortment of chairs and couches and arranged them neatly around Truculent, Eva and Harder, before disappearing back through the floor. Harder wondered, did Truculent really have so much to confess that they would require seating? Harder certainly had little he wanted to say to the High Priest. Seated as comfortably as he could be in such a foul place he waited for Truculent to begin.
“I asked you what you thought of this place.” Truculent said, repeating his earlier question.
Under the protection of the confessional he saw little reason for subtlety and he had his own questions. “Why all this travel time, trouble and intrigue for a poor excuse for a shit house? Automated weapons could have been sent to obliterate this system.” He shifted in his seat, “And who exactly is Eva?”
Truculent smiled. He didn’t seem the least offended. Eva looked bored. She was draped over a couch picking the flesh of dead cyber-weapons from her fingernails with a thin bladed knife.
“Exactly, it’s a poor excuse for a shit house. As for Eva. I have no idea who… or what she is. Eva claims to be a High Angel.”
Harder baulked. “A confessional doesn’t protect you from a charge of blasphemy. Take care priest.”
“Don’t presume to teach a High Priest the blasphemy laws and I won’t tell you how to Regulate. I’m reporting her claims not endorsing or commenting on them. Ask her yourself.”
Harder was irritated at being corrected but the priest was right. If anyone was committing blasphemy it was Eva. It would be a terrible waste to have to execute her. He did as Truculent suggested. “Who are you?”
Eva yawned and stretched. Her disdain for the two men was obvious, “Whoever I need to be. Get on with it Truculent.”
“Ignore her. This might be a shit house but the shit it produces is more valuable than the Empire’s entire store of wealth.”
Harder was beginning to think Truculent had caught Eva’s madness. “You’re not making any sense priest. Talk plainly.”
“I’ve studied your record Commander. I deduce that you are a loyal and honest man whose first and only interest is the health and safety of the Empire.”
Harder thought it was an odd way to start a confessional but he would agree with Truculent. He was neither political nor personally ambitious though he doubted their views on what was best for the Empire coincided. Harder only nodded.
“If you have reviewed my record you will perhaps recognise a kindred spirit. Of course you might also conclude we would have different views on the direction the Empire should be taking.”
Harder could only agree. Though Truculent was a priest, he appeared to be a devout and diligent one. Again, Harder could only nod in agreement.
“I believe the Empire has stagnated and perhaps lost sight of its purpose.”
Truculent was skirting with treason but Harder couldn’t disagree with his analysis. “Perhaps, but what exactly do you believe is the purpose of the Empire.”
“To gather unto the Vigilance all the races of the Prime in the galaxy and to purge the galaxy of non-Prime races. This is the galaxy of the Vigilance; given to us, the chosen, by the gods. Until this goal is achieved and the home world of the Prime found, and venerated, we cannot rest.”
Harder hadn’t heard those words in many years. They were the only true purpose of the Vigilance Empire. Is it what the Priest truly believed? “We have explored little more than one per cent of the galaxy and control even less. Exploration and expansion is costly and potentially dangerous.”
“If an empire does not expand it contracts and dies. There h
ave been no significant developments in science or technology in hundreds of cycles. Challenge breeds innovation. We are unchallenged.”
Harder couldn’t help but agree with the priest, “I am of like mind. The Empire is too comfortable for its own good. And while we might wish to see change, it would require vast resources, and… political adjustments.”
Truculent leant forward in his chair, he was sweating. “You may have no regard for the Priesthood or HIQ but you certainly understand its economic importance to the Empire.”
Truculent was right in his assumptions. HIQ was an insidious drug that enslaved the Priesthood. Unfortunately, it was also the standard unit of accounting for all transactions within the Empire. The entire money supply was based on that unit. HIQ production was strictly regulated to maintain economic stability. “What has this place to do with HIQ?”
“You recall our interest in a formula?”
Harder more than recalled it. He was outraged that Truculent had dealt with the terrorists so lightly in exchange for the natives’ formula. What knowledge could the defecators on this planet possibly have that would be of any interest to the Empire?
“Yes, I recall that you traded appropriate system-wide Regulation for the punishment of a single individual in exchange for it.”
Truculent appeared uninterested in Harder’s criticism. “The formula is for an additive which combined with the Crimson, from this shit hole, produces a class Three product.”
Harder had no idea what Truculent was talking about. The High Priest was beaming as if he had described something miraculous. “Three? What is a class Three?”
Truculent’s head dropped and there was a long sigh. “Why should you have any interest in the nuances of HIQ quality? That’s a priestly concern, right?”
“Correct.”
“Let’s ignore the spiritual implications and stick to the economics. The standard imperial accounting unit is based on a HIQ pinch derived from a Channel bred on One quality Crimson. Though the vast majority of Crimson produced in the Empire doesn’t reach anywhere near that standard. The fixed volume of HIQ is limited to a nominal nonillion units of One quality. Actual HIQ volumes are much higher to compensate for the lower quality. Do you understand now?”
Harder was struggling to understand what was so exciting, “A Three derived HIQ will be worth three times as much as a standard unit. That’s hardly Empire shattering.”
“Oh, but it is Empire shattering. The scale is not linear, One, Two, Three. A one- point-One HIQ is ten times the quality of a One HIQ. A Two is more than a billion times more valuable. A Three is almost incalculable. This shit hole, this… secret shit hole can produce all the HIQ the Empire will ever need. To maintain economic stability every other source will have to be eliminated. Sector Seventy-Six will have a monopoly on the supply of HIQ.”
Harder was struggling with the vastness and complexity of the numbers. It had been a long time since he’d had to contemplate the fundamentals of the Empire’s economics. Slowly he began to understand what Truculent was getting at and another solution immediately came to mind. “Or, the other sectors will send this shit hole into the nearest star and pretend it never existed.”
“Exactly Harder. That’s why I need someone who believes in the basic law, the Empire’s true purpose and has the power to Regulate those who would try and destroy or seize this factory.”
Harder understood. The High Priest in law had authority over the resources in his Sector but was bound to trade them at a fair price. It was how the Empire functioned. This discovery could undermine all of that. Truculent could set any price he wanted. He could set a price so high that even the Emperor wouldn’t be able to afford to buy his HIQ. “One Sector, standing against ninety-nine others? We’ll have no friends. You threaten everything and everyone.”
“True. And that’s not my intention. I need secrecy for now and time to persuade the Priesthood across the sectors that the Three is real, and that they will have access. Then they will protect us… against any opposition.”
“Why would they give up their supply for yours?”
“That’s the spiritual side of the equation. Just as a Three HIQ is vastly more valuable than a One as an economic unit, its enlightenment benefits could be unimaginable.”
“Could be?”
“The simulations leave no doubt. However, it will take five cycles of Channel breeding on a diet of Three before we can harvest our first batch of Three HIQ. The other Sector High Priests will want to try before they buy.”
The implications were clear. If the Three was real and everything Truculent said it was, he could be the next Emperor-Cardinal. Eva’s first fact. “You will require a loyal and vigorous Regulator now and at every stage in your advancement. I would be honoured to serve at every level.”
“Agreed. Let’s kiss on it.”
It was a necessary but disgusting formality to bind their partnership. Fortunately, the High Priest seemed equally loath to make more of it than the minimum custom demanded.
Harder still had questions, “Why do we need this shit hole if you have the formula?”
“It only works here and on this species and for all we know the crazy method they use for extracting the blood is critical. We can’t risk changing anything.”
Eva interrupted them. “Is this the best way to produce the highest quality?” She was using the translator which meant she had to be addressing the savage.
Tippese was sitting on the floor staring at his feet and shivering with fear. Eva’s question made him look up. For a moment he looked puzzled. Then he followed her eyes upwards and immediately returned his gaze to the floor. “Tracy experimented with letting kids live a normal life with more freedoms, outside in the schools. Initially, quality was much better when they first came to the Yard, but it didn’t last in here and it wasn’t efficient to keep them outside. Overall, the impact was minimal. The QQ numbers didn’t stack up. She had a sentimental connection to the schools. I agreed with Reference that we should terminate the experiment.”
“What is a Tracy?” Eva growled, frightening Tippese into scuttling further away.
“The previous factory manager.” Truculent explained.
“Reference send me the details, of these… schools,” Eva ordered.
Harder was confused by Eva’s interest in these petty details of the factory's operation. And so was Truculent.
“Why are you interested? We have the Three why tinker with what’s already working.”
“The Channel birthing rate must not fall, or there will be consequences.”
Harder was surprised by Eva’s tone. She was clearly threatening the High Priest. Her shifting interests made no sense. What possible importance could Channel births have to her? She wasn’t a HIQ user. Truculent, like every other priest and a few degenerate citizens, brazenly wore the obvious signs of addiction. The whites of his eyes were speckled with tiny black dots. The whites of Eva’s eye were the brightest he’d ever seen and a perfect setting for her ice-blue pupils.
“A single Three birth is worth a trillion of the others. The system can’t tolerate excessive HIQ supply.”
“Find a way. The birthing is important, HIQ is not.”
“Perhaps the excess HIQ can be destroyed. Yes, that would work. Though it will be wasteful and difficult to explain.”
“Don’t disappoint me Truculent.”
Harder was intrigued. Exactly what was their relationship? And in what reality did a Channel birth of itself have any value. The High Priest would never be allowed to address him in that manner. He had to stamp his authority on their new partnership. “High Priest, for Regulation I shall classify this exercise, the location of this planet and the disposition of the factories as beyond mundane and therefore all relevant records of our visit will be erased. The planetary shield will remain in place after we leave preventing any unauthorised access or departures. Similarly, the Travel-Way will be locked. Only the codes you and I possess will allow access. This facto
ry will be upgraded with Emperor-class defences and stealth capabilities. I will report that the local terrorists destroyed this factory. It has therefore ceased to exist.”
Truculent smiled at Harder and then Eva, “You were right about him. How do you know what you know?”
Eva ignored Truculent’s question, “I feel like killing you Truculent, I need more combat.” She cracked her fingers. “If you don’t want to be killed, I advise you go about fetching Tress.”
Harder was shaken. Eva had directly threatened a High Priest. Truculent should order her instant Regulation. But instead the High Priest was laughing.
“Escort Eva to the combat pens Harder. Then let’s finish with Tress and leave.”
Harder ignored his personal Defenders’ half-hearted protests and decided to go and fetch Tress alone. He left them spectating as Eva swept through ever larger numbers of attackers with ever increasing efficiency.
It would be odd to confront the little animals knowing that his threats to destroy their star was a threat he could never carry out. They were the most valuable livestock in the Empire. A viable population would be left behind as insurance. Truculent’s plans would come to nothing if this species ever became extinct. Simulations showed clones and the formula produced a good quality One, at best. Their chaotic DNA in large numbers was somehow a vital ingredient. If the natives had only known their value, what might the little creatures have negotiated? It was too late for them now.
He stood alone in a pleasant grassy park surrounded by tall buildings with a certain barbaric grandeur. The terrorist’s hiding place. It was quite pretty. A small pack of the creatures was emerging from a cavern. One female looked as if she had swallowed an adult Channel and was close to bursting. Without system support he wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. Tress was at the centre of the group engaging in some sort of ritual. From her loud screeching he vaguely recognised the brown one. The others didn’t register. His system indicated that they were trying to communicate. His first inclination was to ignore them and take Tress. He relented. Some part of him felt sympathy for these stupid creatures. If they hadn’t launched their pointless attacks they’d have been left in peace. Harder engaged his translator.
