The chosen slaves were dragged from their squalid hovels, scrubbed clean in high-pressure baths, and forced into finer livery. Looking entirely transford, they were escorted by Adelina herself toward the prestige of the upper decks.
"Director Adelina, where are we...?"
Paul rubbed his hands together nervously. The treatnt was far too irregular. In his experience, when a slave was suddenly given fine clothes and sent to serve the high-born, they were rarely seen again.
"I asked her to bring you, Paul."
Enkidu's voice, deeper and more resonant than any mortal's, cut through the hallway as he stepped out from a set of gilded doors. He offered a welcoming gesture. "We have moved to better quarters, so it is only right that you co with us. This is a beautiful place; as our personal staff, you should look the part."
"Oh! Oh, of course, my Lord!"
The anxiety vanished from Paul's face, replaced instantly by a practiced, fawning smile. He bowed so low his hem brushed the serpentine floor. "A place of such nobility requires decent servants to reflect your greatness. I shall serve with all my heart!"
Seeing her task complete, Adelina offered a crisp salute and requested leave. Enkidu nodded absently, his gaze lingering on the group behind Paul. He singled out a few individuals with thinning hair and strangely prominent brow ridges, ordering them to wait aside, before leading the rest into the new suite.
For the recruits—most of whom had been born in the lightless depths of hives or mines—this suite was the grandest thing they had ever seen. When Enkidu entered, he found several of them excitedly touching the furniture like children in a museum.
"So soft," Bellator whispered, squeezing a silken pillow. "It feels like sleeping on a cloud."
"I'm glad you like it," Enkidu said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You all know this man: old Paul, who looked after us in the pits. He has been promoted. He will serve as our House seneschal, overseeing the rest of the staff."
Paul took a step forward, his weathered face flushed with pride.
Given Enkidu's established authority and Paul's history of quiet competence, no one objected. If anything, the initiates were eager to embrace this "high-born" lifestyle. Within the hour, the servants were already buffing the onyx pillars and bringing out trays of fresh fruit.
Once the dostic chaos settled, Enkidu pulled Paul aside, tapping his shoulder to indicate a private talk.
In the small receiving room, steam rose from a pot of rare tea.
"Congratulations, Paul. You're officially out of the lower decks. There are servant quarters attached to this suite; you'll stay there."
Enkidu opened with the congratulations, feeling the mask of "the benevolent leader" becoming more permanent by the day. In a universe where monsters walked in every shadow, he didn't want to find out what happened to those who were universally hated.
"It is all thanks to you, my Lord. I am rely a small man riding your coattails," Paul replied, his wrinkles smoothing as he cradled the warm tea. "Is there anything else you require?"
"Just a bit of curiosity. As our circle grows, I need to understand who is around us. It's a matter of quality of life... and safety."
Enkidu gave him a knowing look.
Every voidship was its own world, whether it belonged to a Rogue Trader, the Imperial Navy, or the Ruinous Powers. Beyond the Navigators, Astropaths, and the Captain, there were thousands of deckhands and ratings living in the dark spaces the nobility never visited. They kept the ship breathing.
And more often than not, that's where the trouble started.
"I understand, my Lord. Most of your staff co from the lower deck clans: the Minsk, the Knott, the Heisel, and the Sarn. I promise you, they are good, honest girls and boys. They won't cause you worry. As for , I am of the Knott clan. We ca from Aerius together; we are lucky to be here."
Enkidu remained noncommittal. There were too many ways to warp a mortal's mind for a simple promise to suffice. But that wasn't what he was looking for.
"And the ones I pulled aside? Do they belong to these four clans?"
"No. They belong to an older group. They've been on the ship for at least seventy years."
Seventy years. Plenty of ti for a xenos-tainted brood to blend in and look almost human. It explained why so of the "heretics" he'd culled in the lower decks looked so disturbingly symtrical. Perhaps because of the Slaaneshi presence, the Genestealers on this ship had chosen to stay dormant rather than launch a premature uprising.
"Are they... particularly devout? Do they worship the Emperor?"
Paul's face contorted. He looked as if he wanted to jump across the table and cover Enkidu's mouth. After five seconds of paralyzed silence, his eyes turned glassy and red.
"You... you... oh, my Lord... you are one of us too?"
"Keep your voice down. My power is still growing; I must remain in the shadows," Enkidu lied, raising a finger for silence. "What is their clan called? What makes them special? How many of them are there, and how do they get along with the others?"
"I... I was too eager. I shouldn't cause trouble for you, my Lord." Paul sat back down and took a shaky gulp of tea. "They call themselves the Children of the Stars. There are many of them. they take the hardest jobs, they're always enthusiastic, always hardworking. Director Adelina likes them very much."
"As for anything strange... they are bold. Too bold. You know how it is here; we never dare speak His na. But they... they actually build shrines to the Emperor in the open."
The Four-Ard Emperor, Enkidu thought. This was textbook Genestealer Cult activity. He had a bit of a moral hang-up about killing regular humans, but he had zero reservations about purging Xenos-infiltrators.
However, if they were all "devout," he could use that. He wanted to et a representative of these "Star Children." Depending on what he found, he could either purge them properly or strike a deal to sacrifice a few of their "excess" numbers to satisfy Telax's quota.
"Very good. Thank you for your cooperation." Enkidu stood up and tossed a small, carved trinket to Paul as a reward. "A word of advice, Paul: if you see anyone in your clan who is bald, has purplish skin, and works just a little too hard... stay away from them."
He paused at the door. "Also, I want to visit the lower decks to et these Star Children. Can you arrange an introduction?"
"Bald and purple?" Paul blinked, not daring to ask why. "I... I will tell my people to watch out. As for the Star Children... we've always been afraid to be associated with them because they're so public with their worship. Getting close might be hard. But... I know a clan that can get us in."
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