Taranis Station was a massive gathering point, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the commercial quarters. Thousands of travelers, workers, traders and merchants mingled around the winding corridors and promenades that formed the bulk of the station’s immense central dome. Deals were made, fights broke out, and the Kardess security detail struggled to keep order with varying success.

Ferron watched over the organized chaos below with disgust. The Inquisition’s blockade had resulted in a huge influx of passengers to the station, all trying to flee the coming purge. Like blind fowl, the weaklings clung to each other, naively thinking that numbers would make the Inquisition budge. He turned away from the balcony and walked towards the darkened alcove. His contact was here.

“I assume you have the goods?” said Ferron as he approached. The man, his face obscured by the shadows, nodded, and handed him a small container. It was no larger than a book, and it felt unnaturally light.

Ferron took the box and frowned. “That’s it?” he said, holding the box up to his face, examining it. The box was covered in strange etchings that shimmered as they caught the faint light pouring into the alcove. “I thought it would be bigger. And heavier. What am I supposed to do with this?”

The man leaned forward, revealing a smooth skinned face that seemed to shine in the pale light. “That container holds the key to your victory, Ferron. You and your followers are not the only ones that wish to see the House of Kardess removed from power. With this capsule, you can control the fate of the system.”

Ferron snorted. “Right, and I suppose it also opens a portal to the Eye of Terror, does it?” he said. “Don’t oversell yourself, sir, as long as it does what you said it will, I couldn’t care less what happens to the rest of the system. I only care about getting rid of the Kardess presence.”

“Very well then,” said the stranger, standing up to leave. “I place this device in your capable hands, to do with as you wish. Just remember what I told you, keep it well hidden. Should your Inquisition discover its existence, then the punishment shall be on you.”

Ferron grabbed the man’s arm as he tried to leave. “Wait a minute, friend. You haven’t asked for payment yet. How much do you want? I doubt something like this comes cheap, and it mustn’t have been easy to smuggle it onto the station.”

The man gave a small smile. “Consider it an act of charity,” he said. “With your house in power, my benefactors stand to gain from this venture as well. When you succeed, I shall approach you again.”

He shrugged off Ferron’s hand, and vanished around the corner, leaving Ferron with the strange device. His mind was already racing, planning, formulating strategies. With this device, Taranis would be theirs soon enough.

In an instant, the relative peace that had held Satellite Station Ishtar was shattered. Floating just outside of Akaros’ ring system, the station was a waypoint between the mining bases and Station Taranis. Raw materials from the mines were taken by light transport to Ishtar, where they were then forwarded to Taranis itself. Much like its mother station, Ishtar took the shape of a terrestrial starfish, with limbs reaching out half a mile in every direction. After the blockade was placed on the Harknell system, traffic through Ishtar had all but ceased, and an uneasy calm had developed. It was then that the secessionists made their move.

In ten minutes, four of the five zones in the station’s fifth arm ousted the House Kardess guards. The secessionists, made up of miner and mercenary alike, tore through the habitations, killing anyone who resisted. All that remained was zone one, the link to the rest of the station. If it fell to the secessionists, retaking the arm would become much more difficult.

Armand Sellus ducked back under the lip of the window frame as a score of rounds tore through the open space above him. He and four other House Kardess guards traded fire with the mass of secessionists outside. They had stormed the thoroughfare that ran down the center of the arm and all that stood in their way from complete control was the gatehouse guarding the hub. The gate itself was shut under orders of Commander Herron, but that would mean nothing if the gatehouse was taken.

The two story structure had two enclosed stairways on either side of the gate that led to the guardhouse on the second floor. There, Sellus and the others rained fire down on the mass of secessionists below. Their allies fired from the doorways below that led to the stairs, but the fusillade from the secessionists was overwhelming. Even so, it was a target heavy environment. Ishtar Station was not known for its decorations. The thoroughfare was a lane of flat plasteel, free of any type of cover. Sellus fired his autogun on full auto into the charging crowd below. In the low gravity environment, the spilt blood drifted as a red mist. Even with the tremendous casualties, the secessionists charged on, reaching the stairways below. Clad in worker’s coveralls and wielding few actual weapons, they pushed up the stairs, beating the House Kardess guards to death.

As they breached the guardhouse, Sellus and the other four hosed the doorway, perforating the first eight men to enter. Two turned to cover the other doorway, but it was too late. They were already surrounded. Sellus dodged a wrench heading for his face and slammed the muzzle of his autogun into the worker’s sternum. The secessionist crumpled, but was immediately replaced with two others. Sellus stumbled back as a pipe struck his left arm, knocking the gun out of his grip. He fell onto his back and tried to get away from the mass of crazed secessionists. He rolled over, and watched in horror as two of the other guards, Nern from hab 26 and the new girl they got last week, were bludgeoned to death with a variety of pipes and tools. The blood was pooling around his feet, and his desperately kicked, trying to escape the crowd, whose attention was focused on him. Numerous hands grabbed at him, and he groped at his belt, trying to draw his combat knife. He finally pulled it from his sheath as a pair of clawed hands gripped his throat. He slashed once, slicing up a wrist before his arm was broken with a swift crack of a metal bat. Screaming in pain, he curled into a ball as fists and feet pummeled him. Something hard hit the back of his head and darkness began to take him. The last thing he heard before blacking out was the sound of the gate opening.

Sellus awoke to a slap in the face. He was surrounded by the secessionists in the street below the gatehouse. He was on his knees, held tightly by the arms by two men. Around him, the rabble screamed for his blood, and he could see that they had strung up the corpses of his brothers in arms. More than forty bodies had been hung from the storefronts. They had been stripped of armor and weapons and then mutilated.

This was too much, he thought. The guards of House Kardess were sworn to its service, sure. But they were no different from the people that now wanted them dead. They simply had well paying jobs, and a future ahead of them. Was that a crime that called for death? He heard gunfire behind him, and tried to crane his neck to see through the gate. A fist to the cheek convinced him not to try again. His head sagged and his vision spun. The pain in his broken arm was almost unbearable, and the brute gripping it was not helping. Suddenly the intensity of the shouts around him died away. Feeling that someone was standing over him, he looked up.

The man before him wore the clothes of a mercenary. His robust body was wrapped in a dark body glove, and protected with expensive carapace plate. His dark skin was smooth and unscarred, which clashed with the aura of battlefield expertise the man exuded. Behind him were about half a dozen in the same garb, each holding their own custom made weapons.

Through bloody lips, Sellus asked, “Just who the hell are you? Why are you doing this now?”

The man’s eyes brightened. “My name? I suppose you can call me Daniel, Daniel Errent. A simple name, yes, but I’m a simple man.”

“A simple man with ambitious goals,” choked Sellus. “How come a mercenary wants to secede from the Imperium?”

Errent smiled. “It’s not me that wants to secede, sir, it’s my benefactors. Though, any good businessman sees the appeal in a war like this. Win or lose, we mercenaries make money.”

“If you lose, you end up hunted.”

Errent turned his back on Sellus and faced his mercenary companions. “And who wound chase us?”

“The Inquisition, for starters,” replied Sellus.

“The Inquisition has much better things to worry about than chasing a mercenary group around. There is full blown heresy erupting on the other worlds of this beautiful system.”

Sellus smiled and replied, “It doesn’t mean they will ignore this nonsense. Are you going to finish me, or what? I’m sick of waiting.”

He was surprised when the two men holding him pulled him up to his feet. Errent stepped forward, staring directly into his eyes. The mercenary said, “No. I’ll let you go. Tell Ishtar’s master this, ‘we are coming for you,’”

The two men released him, and Sellus was shoved towards the open gate. Seeing it now, the efforts of the secessionists were quite impressive. The open gate had been fortified with sandbags and razor wire, creating an efficient checkpoint. Light glinted from the barrels of numerous heavy weapons aimed outward. Stolen from the armory, they would prevent all but the largest frontal assaults.

Clutching his broken arm, Sellus ran through the gate. As he ran down the featureless hall towards the hub, he looked back at the fifth arm. Icons of the Emperor were already being desecrated and new flags were being flown. They were white, with the words “The People’s Alliance of Harknell” emblazoned on them in Low Gothic. He hoped this uprising would be crushed swiftly, for everyone’s sake.

The door at the end of the hall slid open, and as he stepped through he was greeted by a mass of House Kardess personal. Medical staff swarmed around him, trying to apply first-aid to his numerous bruises and lacerations. He waved them off with his good arm. “Stop it, I need to see Commander Karrol. I have a message from the enemy.”