Home Fires – Chapter Seven: Politics
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Antonius stared down at the little woman behind the desk. Her rich brown curly hair fell awkwardly around her venomous scowl. A mouth curled with lemony disgust was almost hidden behind steepled fingers. Despite the ice hanging in the air between their eyes, Antonius tried to maintain a respectful smile.
After all, this woman was the governor of the planet he used to call home.
“Absolutely out of the question.” She hissed.
“Governor Sterling…” Antonius began.
“I don’t want to hear it.” She snapped. “You have no jurisdiction here, Captain. We did not call you, we don’t need you, and if you were anyone other than a member of the illustrious chapter that once saved this world, I’d have considered shooting you out of our skies. NOW. If there is nothing else…”
Antonius called upon all of his training to stay as still and silent as he could. “There is, Governor.”
Sterling grunted. “What.”
“My Chapter has need of your world. I know that this is out of the normal duties of the Adeptus Astartes but I am certain we can find a way to make this useful for Altea and my Company.”
“Pfft. Company. Where’s the rest of you? Aren’t you a Crusade chapter?” she scolded.
“Ah… We have… changed our ways since I was recruited during Altea’s war against the Orks. We have a new homeworld and no longer travel as a complete chapter. However, our homeworld is but a single city on an old, undeveloped world. Altea has three billion souls and a rich history.”
“And how many of those souls do you want, Captain?” She snipped, oddly emphasizing his rank. “Just enough to make us fail to meet our quotas?”
“None!” Antonius said, scandalized. “That is not our aim.”
Sterling rolled her eyes. “The people and crops and goods of Altea are the property of this world, Captain. If you want food or materiel for your little Company, you’ll have to requisition what you need from the Munitorum like everyone else. We are not the personal supermarket for other various wings of the Imperium and I’m tired of being treated like it. Do you know the tithe grade of this world? No? Decuma Prima. That’s Prima, not Secundus, not Tertius, Prima. From a world that was Adeptus Non a hundred and fifty years ago after being stomped flat by Orks AND managed to survive the Cicatix Maledictum without being personally saved by Lord Gulliman.”
“That’s… impressive.” Antonius said with as much positivity as he could muster.
“Understatement of the millennium.” She countered. “My predecessors did their best to build this planet back up to being a productive member of the Imperium, and we have not missed providing the Emperor’s Gift in a timely manner in seventy-three years, including the past two. We are a hairsbreadth from losing it and that will not happen on my watch.”
Ah. There it was. The bottom line.
“My most humble apologies, Governor, if you’ll just permit me to check something for a moment.”
“Oh, of all the…” she trailed off as Antonius opened a digi pad on his arm. A few queries later and a brief calculation on the pad gave Antonius the answer he needed.
“How would you like to exceed your tithe by more than twenty percent?”
The heat in the Governor’s cheeks softened. The lines at the corner of her eyes evaporated and her expression became unreadable. “Go on.”
“Ever since the Ork invasion, you have been bothered by feral Ork tribes in the wilderness. Your PDF is constantly on alert to keep these tribes down, and they are stretched to the limit thanks to the Psychic Awakening. What if you could furlough these troops and use them for the upcoming harvest instead?”
She barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, yes, we’ll just let soldiers run expensive farm equipment. That won’t take months of grueling training.”
Antonius’ expression fell; he wasn’t an expert on running an Agri-world. “Then, perhaps they could be used elsewhere. We are offering to take their place.”
“Perhaps you should leave the duties of running an Agri-world to me, as I leave shooting bolters to you. You don’t see me ordering your troops around, do you?” Sterling waved him away.
Antonius was not a politician. He was a soldier. He didn’t know how to administrate bureaucracies or balance budgets. However, he knew how to exploit an opening. This was it.
“What if you did?”
Sterling’s head snapped to Antonius. This was the first time he could see her eyes open wider than a squint, and he was surprised to see they were a stunning hazel. Her formerly pursed mouth hung slightly open, trying to hold a breath that had escaped in shock.
“Imagine the visual; a stream of the newest version of the Emperor’s Angels of Death, parading down the streets of the capitol. Freshly painted armour glinting in the sun. Grav Tanks bristling with weapons floating in neat rows. All at your request. To command us to purge the Orks that have been the plague of your scheduling. One Hundred of the Emperor’s Finest at your beck and call.” Antonius paused and then whispered for effect. “Who knows? This could even push the planet’s tithe to Decuma Particular, or even Extremis.”
Sterling couldn’t help but mouth that last word unconsciously. Extremis. Antonius clenched his jaw gently to avoid grinning. He had her. Sterling’s eyes quaked slightly, and Antonius imagined a great set of gears turning within her skull. She was trying to fathom how it would work. Her mouth tightened into a thin line, but the edges were slightly upturned.
“I’m sorry, Captain Antonius, but a planetary governor commanding an Astartes company in an official capacity would be a violation of separation of powers. That sort of thing draws the ire of the Arbites, or even the Inquisition in the worst cases. So, officially, I cannot order your men about…” her eyebrows twitched almost off of her head when she emphasized ‘officially.’
“But, unofficially?” Antonius offered.
“Oh, it is well within my authority to request the assistance of the Adeptus Astartes. In times of planetary crisis of course. And, it just so happens that a crisis is whatever I want it to be. So of course, we are dangerously close to missing our tithe because of these filthy Orks. And wouldn’t you know it! An Avenging Son of Altea, one of our historical saviours, just happens to show up as if the Emperor himself has answered our prayers!” Sterling smashed a button on a promiscuous machine that dominated her finely polished desk. “Kyna? Cancel all of my appointments for today. No, for the week.” The person on the other end tried to stammer out a response before Sterling brutally smacked the console again, terminating the link.
“I’m so glad we were able to come to an agreement, Governor Sterling.” Antonius said with a smile.
“Who said anything about an agreement, Captain?” Sterling snapped.
Antonius recoiled as if slapped. “Perhaps I’ve been a bit too vague. I am offering you the might of an entire company of Astartes. Are you rejecting such a gift?”
Sterling snorted. “Gift, indeed. What do you want in return, Captain?”
“That… is a bit more complicated. As a former resident of Altea, I know that your people are hard-working, faithful, upstanding members of the Imperium. I need their help with my new Primaris Astartes. In addition to the services requested against the feral Orks, I need to train my men in urban settings. I will require access to the citizenry at irregular intervals, and leeway from local ordinances from Constables and Enforcers.”
Sterling gave no outward reaction. “What you ask is… more difficult than it sounds, Captain. There are political levers that take effort to grant what you require. We would need to… couch these encounters in the correct political terminologies. You’ll have to clear your events with my office at least a week in advance, and we’ll need to create a custom event for each one. Local administrators will need to be involved… and the photo ops…”
Antonius suppressed a groan. Sterling was on board, but the demands she began piling on became more and more onerous. The largest even broke his composure, but Sterling held firm, threatening to end the entire negotiation. Antonius’s teeth ground audibly in his skull. He would bear this indignity. Inwardly, he thanked the Emperor that this woman did not work for the Archenemy. In life, he had fallen back, he had been grievously wounded, and he had even lost vital objectives.
This was the first time he had felt defeated.