A Tempting Offer

Erness tapped his foot impatiently, checking the time. Four thirty Terra Standard Time. They were late. Frustrated, Erness walked to the reception desk, behind which a thus far unhelpful servitor stood, diligently tapping keys on its artificier. Knowing that it wouldn’t do any good, Erness would try again, just to break up the boredom.

“How much longer until he can see me?” he demanded. “My crew can only be stuck on this station for so long, and I won’t be held accountable if they start any trouble. Let me ask you one more time: when is Baron Kardess going to be here? I’ve been waiting for two hours now!”

The servitor responded with an emotionless voice, tinged by the metallic grille that had replaced the deceased human’s mouth. “Baron Kardess will see you shortly. He is a busy man. Please be patient.”

Erness sighed. “That’s what you said last time I asked. You’re a damn computer, give me a bloody time, or I’ll tear your circuits out and strangle you with the wires.”
The servitor didn’t respond, and it returned to pressing buttons on the artificier. Of course it wouldn’t respond, thought Erness. He would have better luck threatening a box. His patience was running dangerously thin. The Honest Living had been trapped at Taranis Station for three days now, and he’d been vying for a meeting with the House of Kardess since then. They’d already kept him waiting for days, and now, at the time of their arranged meeting, the Baron couldn’t be bothered to show up. Did he have any idea how much money this was costing Erness? The Malik Trader Dynasty was expecting a major windfall in two weeks time, and every day he was stuck here was a day less he had to make their delivery.

The Departmento Munitorium had contracted the Malik Trader Dynasty to deliver a massive shipment of weapons grade ammunition to the frontlines in the Viridium Sector. Erness had jumped at the opportunity. The Administratum might move slower than a lethargic slug, but the Munitorium paid handsomely. And now, here he was, trapped in some ass end system, waiting for the Inquisitorial blockade to be dropped. There was no way he would be able to make the delivery on time now. He’d just have to settle for getting out of the system as soon as he could.

This had been his chance to prove to the Dynasty that he could become the next ruler. His grandfather, the depraved bastard that he was, enjoyed pitting his numerous heirs against each other to see who would be worthy to succeed him. After Erness’s father Tarnoll had been caught in a shipping “accident”, he had been bumped up as a potential candidate. Thirteen years of constant toil to get to where he was, avoiding his siblings backstabbing tendencies, and treating them to a few of his own, and now he was brought low by an Emperor damned embargo. And he was still waiting to see the Baron.

Another hour of pacing the foyer passed, little heard apart from the continuous typing of that brain dead servitor. Finally, a note chimed from the servitor’s speaker. The cyborg looked up from its occupation. “Baron Kardess will see you now. We apologize for the delay.”

“You’ll be more than sorry if I wait any longer.” He muttered as he pushed past the desk, slamming the ornate wooden doors wide open. The Baron’s sanctum was similarly decorated as his foyer. Unlike the dull gray hull of the station’s exterior, adorned with statues commemorating Taranis’s former ruling barons, Derrimund Kardess had opted for a fine oak floor, polished to a mirror shine, and walls draped in the vibrant green colors of the House of Kardess. A welcoming fireplace was flanked by a pair of luxurious couches, bathed in warm orange light. It felt lived in, like a well maintained cottage club, unlike the sterile environment of the docks. Baron Kardess was staring out the large window that dominated the far wall, looking down at the body of Akaros, over which the station orbited.

The Baron turned to greet Erness as he strode swiftly across the room. His huge frame was clad in an equally impressive cloak, which gave the Baron an imposing image. Erness cared little for the Baron’s flaunting. Anyone born into power seemed to love such extravagancies. He doubted any of them had ever done a day’s work to earn their titles. They were all the same, this baron was no different.

“Ah, the captain of the Honest Living, why, I expected to see you sooner!” the Baron spoke with the flamboyant speech of one used to entertaining officials at dinner parties, or when boasting about wealth or power. Typical behaviour, thought Erness. He was thus far less than impressed.

“If you wished to see me, Baron, then perhaps not waiting three days to do so would have allowed both of us to keep to our schedules.” said Erness icily.

The Baron looked surprised. “Has it really been three days? I could have sworn that your ship arrived just this morning. The days on Akaros are far longer than a place like Holy Terra, you see. I apologize profusely for the delay. Please, please, sit down and have a drink with me. Do you have any particular poison you would prefer? I have an entire cabinet to choose from. Sac’Deimir Whiskey is a favourite of mine. Try some.”

Erness took the glass without a word, and sank into one of the couches. The Sac’Deimir was sharp, hitting his sinuses hard as it flowed down his throat. The smoky aftertaste was hinted with mint, leaving Erness with a peculiar yet not unwelcome taste in his mouth. The Baron had good taste, he’d give him that, at least. Baron Kardess eased himself into the opposite couch, breathing a sigh of contentment. “The joys of luxury, wouldn’t you say, Captain? Now, what can I do for you? I’m sure you have a number of questions.”

Erness’s tone remained cold. “Actually, Baron, I have only one thing to demand. I have a delivery to make that could very well alter my future. And this blockade has kept me from doing such. I want out of the Harknell System, and you control the traffic that flows through these parts. I want you to appeal to the Inquisition to grant me passage out of here. I won’t let some petty uprising destroy my career.”

Kardess sipped his whiskey thoughtfully. “That is a hard demand to satisfy, Captain. The Inquisition was most adamant about keeping all traffic confined to the system until the purge is complete. In fact, Taranis station is probably the safest place for you at the moment. We have had no incidents of rebel activity on the station since this whole mess started. We are loyal to the bone, though I cannot say the same for some of Akaros’s other houses.”

“I didn’t ask if you were loyal or not Baron,” said Erness. “I said that I want you to talk to the Inquisition. Get me the clearance to get out of here while I still can.”

“Well, there’s very little I can do, Captain. I wouldn’t dare go over the Inquisition’s head, and their orders were clear: no ship leaves the system until the purge is complete. This might just be a simple uprising, but the Inquisition’s presence leads me to believe that there might be the taint of chaos influencing events. They cannot afford to let any heretic escape. My hands are tied. I’m sorry.”

Erness leaned back in defeat. “So I’m stuck here then, aren’t I?” he moaned. “Fifty million Thrones gone, and I’m here for who knows how long. Brilliant, just brilliant.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Kardess solemnly. He quickly perked up. “But still, while you’re here, you might as well take advantage of the local comforts, am I correct? Here, have another glass. We can drink until sunset.”

“Fine,” grumbled Erness. “Pour me another.”

Another glass turned into several as the hours flowed past as quickly as the whiskey. Erness and the Baron drank until the bottle was done, and the three more after that. His earlier despair had given way to nonsensical giggling. The baron was right, why bother complaining when there are good drinks and fine company to sample? Erness reached for another glass of whatever, downing it in one gulp. The drink hit his senses like a hammer, leaving him gasping.

The Baron laughed rambunctiously. “You see, Captain? It is not so grim! We’ll find you something to do while you’re here, you can count on that! Why, I could even buy your shipments, they sound wonderful! Fifty million thrones? Hah! I could get you double that! What is the stuff anyways? More drinks? I’d buy them personally!”

Erness lolled his head upwards. He shouted so the Baron could hear. “Guns! Guns and bombs and everything you would ever need to fight a war! Baron, that shipment would have made me a king amongst traders! A son of the Emperor! And now.... now all for nothing. It’ll just take up space in my cruiser. All that junk and nowhere to sell it.”

The Baron jumped up onto the table. “Aha!” he shouted, snapping his fingers. “I’ve got it, Captain! You could sell your weapons here, to the Loyalists! I’m sure that would endear them to you, and it would make up for your lost venture.”

Erness’s eyes lit up. “Now there’s a prospect! And it gives me an excuse to continue sampling your fine selection! You have good taste, Baron.”

“Please, call me Derrimund, Captain.”

“Fine, then you can call me Erness, Bar- I mean, Derrimund. I was wrong about you. When I walked in here, I was thinking, ‘who is this ass who makes me wait for three days, and then is late for his own meeting?’ But now I see. You’re a good man, Baron. And you make a good point. I can still make a profit, and be drunk while doing so!”

“I’ll drink to that, Erness. Another round!”

War brews. Like a cancer, the Ruinous Powers have spread their influence across each and every world of the Harknell system, and millions have risen up against the established governments. Those who remain true to their purpose, and the God-Emperor of Terra, have but a single purpose: to kill, until no traitor remains. As the Ecclesiarchy teaches, heresy can only be redeemed through death, and the soldiers loyal to the Emperor are prepared to carry out their solemn duty.

To prevent this heresy from spreading any further, an Inquisitor has arrived in the Harknell system. Wielding immeasurable power, he will use any means necessary to accomplish his task. Within days, all warp travel ceased, and the borders of the system were blockaded. No one leaves, traitor or loyalist. The system is on the verge of a bloodbath, and the Imperium can only watch.

Akaros hangs at the middle of the Harknell system. The gas giant is orbited by a massive ring system, rich in mineral deposits and promethium. Also orbiting Akaros is Taranis, a massive waypoint for ships travelling in and out of the Harknell system, and a focal point for the system’s commercial industries. No ship can leave the system without passing through Taranis. It is under the control of House Kardess, for now. Other Noble Houses have taken note of the heresy spreading through Harknell, and realize now is the time to put their century long plans into motion. House Kardess’s reign is over.

Ten kilometers away, on one of Taranis Station’s twelve outer docking piers, the Honest Living was nestled, latched onto the pier with countless mooring lines and massive chains. The Endeavour Class Light Cruiser had been Erness’s reward for his father’s death, his entry bid for candidacy in succeeding Lord Malik. The Honest Living stretched over a third of the length of the pier, from the tip of its serpent headed prow to the vast engine array of the stern. But even the vast ship was one of the smaller vessels currently stationed at Taranis. Imperial battleships easily dwarfed the light cruiser, their colossal frames blocking the sun, and casting a huge shadow across the cruiser and the pier.

Despite her age, the Honest Living more than lived up to her name. Erness had put everything he had into the ship, updating her from a dilapidated relic into a modern wonder. Underneath her scarred exterior beat the heart of a fierce warship, easily capable of fending off convoy raiders with her heavy arsenal. The interior had been overhauled to run on a skeleton crew, providing far more room for cargo and armor. She was a workhorse of a ship in the best sense. At least she was, when the crew wasn’t busy making a mess of her. Stuck in dock for days, the eight hundred ship hands had grown bored, and had taken to repainting the interior with blood, beer and bile.

Kerise Danikov, the vessel’s first officer, sat on the bridge, going over the shipping manifest, and the numerous workplace incidents. She hoped that Erness would be able to gain the clearance they needed to leave. The sooner they were away from this shithole, the sooner they’d be rich. This delivery was too important to delay anymore than they already had. The navigators were starting to worry, whispering rumours about warp travel being blocked to prevent exit. Kerise felt the Navigators were being superstitious, but the prospect worried her. If they were trapped in the system, they’d have bigger problems soon enough.

She sighed, brushing back her auburn hair. An aide took the manifest from her hand, shuffling off to do a final check that everything was still there. The Munitorium was picky about people “appropriating” their supplies for personal gain. Bureaucratic impasses proved to be more devastating than pirates for an enterprising Rogue Trader organization. In Annika’s case, they came second only to Erness’s own debauchery.

Another report: one of the junior officers got into a fistfight with the security detail, and they’d thrown a table at him. She massaged her temples, trying to ease her growing headache. At this rate, the crew would tear the ship apart before some pirate did. They needed to get out, or get back to work. With no sign that Erness would be back anytime soon, she keyed in the vox announcer. They could do with some shore leave. Let their rowdy attitude be inflicted on someone else while she got some sleep.