Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 102 Ashes and Chips

The Black Pearl was anchored in Lucis Harbor for the eleventh day.

Cohen stood at the porthole on the bridge, watching the service boats moving back and forth in the berth area. Several unfamiliar faces appeared in the spaceport corridor, and a few indicator lights that shouldn't be on were now lit in the observation module opposite the berth. It was either the Inquisition or the State Church, or both.

The communicator beeped. The duty officer's voice was calm and steady: "Captain, Sage Vitellius has arrived."

Cohen put down the data panel and walked out of the reception room. The airtight door slid open, and Vitellius stood in the corridor, with four Guardians of the Order standing silently behind him. The silhouettes beneath his robes vaguely outlined the lines of the terracotta deck.

Vitellius turned and waved, and the Papal Guards stood at the gangway. He stepped into the cabin alone.

"Let's go inside and talk."

Several data boards were spread out on the long table. Vitellius sat down, lit a cigarette, took a puff, and tossed two new data boards onto the table.

"The Star Language Hall is all set." He put a cigarette in his mouth.

Cohen picked up the first data panel. On the screen was a list, stamped with the seal of the Lucis Star Court at the bottom.

Twenty-three official Star Speakers have completed their soul binding. The twelve apprentices—whose ability to send and receive short-range encrypted communications is sufficient—will initially be stationed at relay stations for practice.

Cohen turned the page. Below was a longer list.

Besides the Star Speakers, there are a total of ninety-eight combat psionicists and technical psionicists.

Two candidates for psionic mentors, intercepted from the remaining quota on the Black Ships, are Zeta-class. Zeta-class individuals already possess sufficient psionic output, capable of consistently casting combat-grade psionic attacks, and have the theoretical foundation to guide other psionicists. The academy originally intended for them to repeat a year of training, but Lucius intercepted them due to "urgent local needs." One possesses divination talent and will be placed on the flagship for battlefield early warning; the other will command frontline psionic firepower from the main battleship. After achieving merit in the war, they will return to the academy to complete their graduation procedures.

Sixty combat psykers, rescued from the Lucis Nest Containment Facility—unregistered, unreported, wild psykers, not guilty of heresy. They were legally transferred through the "Dominion Military Conscription" process. There were about forty Yota-class to Capa-class and about twenty Omecron-class. They were organized into squads of six to eight, for use by ground troops and anti-flyback lines. These individuals required six months of training before being deployed. The Lucis Celestial Court's liaison office endorsed the mission as "urgent local need."

Twenty-five tech-psychic, drawn from within the Lucis Temple, were originally tech priests of the Mechanicus, possessing a talent for mechanical empathy. Their ranks ranged from Soft to Omecron. Some were assigned to the Forging Ark to maintain the Titan Souls, while others were assigned to the capital ship's engine room to monitor the Void Shield and the Geller Force Field.

Vitellius took a drag of his cigarette.

"Ninety-eight, each with a file, each legal. Control collars, implants, registration documents—everything's complete. The Star Language Court has been working on this for over a year, ever since you left Lucis. These people are nominally conscripted by the Autonomous Territory's military," but in reality, the Star Language Court initially registered them under your name. However, they made a condition."

Cohen looked up at him.

"The Star Language Tower in Garros needs a liaison officer position reserved for the Star Language Court. No independent facility is required; just have someone stationed within your tower. Ostensibly to assist the psionicists in management," but in reality, it's for supervision. The Star Language Court doesn't trust you to use those psionicists in places they can't see."

"Send a few people?"

"One, permanently stationed. They won't interfere with daily operations, but they have access to the training files and mission records of those psionicists. If you send psionicists out to fight, the Star Court personnel have the right to accompany the ship to observe."

Cohen was silent for a moment. "To observe from the ship?"

"Nominally, it's to 'evaluate the combat performance of psionicists' so that the Star Language Court can improve its training system," Vitellius flicked his cigarette ash. "But in reality, they're keeping an eye on you. The Star Language Court's logic is simple: psionicists are their assets. They lend them to you, but they want to know how you use them. If something goes wrong, they can immediately distance themselves from the situation."

Cohen did not answer immediately. Vitellius stubbed out his cigarette.

"A liaison officer, not involved in operational command, and not affecting your administrative authority. The Star Tower should continue to operate as usual. This is the minimum condition for negotiation."

Cohen nodded. "Okay."

He put the data panel into his inner pocket. "The bad news?"

Vitellius pushed the second data panel forward. On the screen was a letter from the Privy Council of the Church, its wording impeccable, but its contents as cold as a scalpel.

Sebastian wrote this after he returned. It wasn't a formal accusation of heresy, but in the letter he implied that the Holy Church had significant concerns about Garros' "religious policy" and "immigrant structure": Garros did not have a formal state cathedral; and the immigration from Amegidton was seen by the Holy Church as "population plunder" of the imperial holy site.

Cohen remained silent for a moment.

"The church matter is easy to handle. Set aside a plot of land under the dome, build one, and then invite the state church to move in." He paused. "We also unearthed a batch of relics from the Sun Auxiliary Army in the wrecked ship. Among them is the regimental flag of the 24th Battalion and a reliquary with the Emperor's Prayer. Donate these to the state church so they can display them in the cathedral. At the same time as sending the gifts, formally invite them to establish a branch office in Garros."

Vitellius glanced at him, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Tribute. That will work. The state church will be more lenient with their words once they accept your gifts."

Cohen continued, "Treat them the same way on Mars. Take the most complex pieces of equipment from that Solar Auxiliary Force shipment, attach copies of their technical specifications, and send them over under the guise of 'technology sharing.' They'll be interested in these things; that'll be enough for them to write three long paragraphs for Garros in their report."

Vitellius nodded. "Mars' appetite is for technology. That's easier to deal with than the State Church."

"The State Church's appetite is for sacred objects; Mars' appetite is for technology." Cohen leaned back in his chair. "The Inquisition has no appetite. They just want to prove you're guilty. Sending anything is useless; they don't want anything, they just want to find incriminating evidence."

Vitellius stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "So there's only one way to deal with the court—delay."

"Let's drag it out until the Lucis inspection team returns from Garros. Once they see the Ark and the Titan Legion with their own eyes, they'll have to reconsider—how much would it cost to take down a governor of a self-governing territory that possesses a Titan Legion? Would Lucis be willing to endorse it? Would Mars think this is a waste of Imperial assets?" He paused, then continued, "Most importantly, at that time their focus will be on that Great Sage Enpu. We insignificant figures will be secondary."

"How much longer will the inspection team take?" Cohen asked.

"One month, at most one month. The candidate has been basically decided: Sage Aurelius Cornelius, leading the delegation on behalf of the Forge Master of Lucius." Vitellius paused for a moment, then continued, "Aurelius is a confidant of the Forge Master; you should know him."

Cohen flipped through the data panel in his hand and found the document that the shipyard had approved.

"The naval office can't wait any longer. Let them go first; there's no need to wait for the inspection team. The shipyard at Garros is already operational, and all the materials are ready. Let them go and inspect the site first, sign what needs to be signed, and file what needs to be filed."

Vitellius nodded. "Separating them is fine. The navy only cares about production capacity and targets. Let them go first. What about the Black Pearl?"

"The Black Pearl will depart together with the verification team," Cohen said. "The Ark and Titan need to be confirmed by Lucis in person before a written report can be submitted to the council. Let's separate the two tasks; it won't delay anything."

Vitellius pulled another data tablet from the inner pocket of his robe and pushed it in front of Cohen.

"The Navy has already given the order. We can arrange for the office staff to depart for Garros next week."

"I've already spoken with the government team in Garros, and they will handle it."

"The Black Pearl will remain docked in Lucis before the inspection team departs. Don't wander off, and don't give anyone cause for criticism."

"Um."

"The construction of the state church should begin as soon as possible. The party flag and reliquary should also be sent there as soon as possible."

Cohen stood up. "Understood."

Vitellius dusted off his robes and turned to walk towards the shuttle. The Papacymen lined up at the gangway and silently followed. The hatch closed. A plume of flame shot out into the vacuum, the blue light condensing for a moment before extinguishing in the starlight.

Cohen returned to the drawing room and stood before the Imperial Statue. The frankincense in the censer had burned out, the smoke dissipated, leaving only ashes. He stood there for a moment, then walked back to the bridge and sat down next to Marcus.

"Captain, is everything still normal?" Marcus asked.

"Of course, it's still normal."

He opened the list of psionicists and wrote a line on the title page: "Psionicist Management Office, directly under the Garros Autonomous Territory." Then he turned to the next document—the site selection report for the state cathedral under the dome.

Outside the window, the spaceport remains bustling with activity.

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