These Genestealers are surprisingly loaded. Maybe I should squeeze them for a bit more grease?
Enkidu toyed with a short-bladed combat knife, his mind racing. After feigning submission to the Magus's "control," he had moved straight to extortion. The stack of crates at his feet was the result of his "negotiation."
Cases of ammunition, las-packs, autoguns, and high-explosives had been hauled out. Every piece was ticulously maintained, likely stolen from the ship's primary armories over the decades. He perford a cursory check; the results were satisfying. These were all pure tal products, free of xenos-contamination, and so even bore the faded stamps of the chanicus cog-and-skull.
The only downside was that they were all mortal-grade weapons. Not a single piece was designed for an Astartes.
"Is this it? You dare offer the scrapings of a slave-pit?"
Enkidu attempted one last shakedown, but the Magus simply spread her hands in a gesture of total surrender.
"We truly have nothing more, my Lord. If we had the ans to produce weapons for the Host, we wouldn't still be huddling in the lower decks."
"Very well."
Enkidu reluctantly reined in his inner highwayman. He fished a few finely crafted autopistols out of a crate; after all, since he was supposedly "controlled," taking too much might break the imrsion.
"I will permit you to substitute these scraps with other services later. Now, state your request. I shall decide if your wish is worth my attention."
The Magus let out a long, unconscious breath of relief, while simultaneously pulsing her psychic energy to maintain the "tether."
"We need a place to belong, my Lord. We are but humble workers, devoted only to the Machine Spirits and the grace of the Omnissiah. But the Star Children... they are intolerable!" She launched into a passionate speech, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. "They disrupt our work, they slaughter our kin in the dark! We have tried to reason with them, but they break every pact. We cannot endure it any longer. We must strike back!"
The subtext was clear: a shadow war between two rival Genestealer Cults. There could be only one Brood on this ship. If the Four-Ard Emperor couldn't unify the faith, then the Blade-Omnissiah would. Let the idols fall, let the factories burn, let the lower decks bleed.
"So, you are reporting to that you intend to start a slave riot?" Enkidu gave a derisive snort. "Do you think I care about the brawls of cattle? Take this to the ship's overseers. I have no interest in your squabbles."
"Director Adelina protects them," the Magus said darkly. "The Star Children provide her with a monthly tribute of treasures and 'specialized' labor. It has made her very... fond of them."
"And what does that have to do with ? You know Adelina is my brother's most trusted mortal attendant. You are accusing her of corruption. For that alone, I could execute you all."
A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched the Magus's lips before she assud a mask of defiant righteousness.
"You may kill , but death will not erase the cri." She raised her chin, her eyes shining with a fanatical light. "Especially when the cris of Adelina and the Star Children threaten the safety of this very ship."
"Oh?"
"From the day we were brought aboard, we were told that worship of the False Priest was forbidden on pain of death. We took that law to heart. But they... they have built shrines to the Corpse. They are plotting a full-scale rebellion."
"Not bad. Your storytelling skills, I an." Enkidu stared at her with a "mocking" intensity, fighting the urge to laugh. "To destroy your rivals, you found the heaviest sin on this ship, used their existing shrines as evidence, and probably planted enough of their sigils to make it stick. To make it even more convincing, you've dragged Adelina into the mud—knowing that despite her high rank, an accusation of treason is hard to wash off."
"If this charge sticks, my brothers will launch a purge imdiately. Once the Star Children are erased, a massive power vacuum will open in the lower decks. Whether you take those posts for yourselves or distribute them to other clans, your influence will explode."
"No, my Lord! We swear on our lives, it is the truth!"
The Magus was starting to break a sweat. Why was this Astartes' logic so twisted?
Of course it was the truth—mostly. She just neglected to ntion that the Bronze Cog was also plotting a rebellion of their own.
"Excellent, slave. You have written a marvelous drama! There's just one problem. The play is ready, but the theater manager hasn't approved the opening, has he?"
"Y-yes."
"I am quite interested in this play. I'll help you open the curtain. Do you mind if I attend as an observer?"
The Magus felt a wave of genuine relief. Finally... the strange Angel had agreed. As long as they kept pushing, everything would fall into place.
"Of course, my Lord. We shall arrange the finest vantage point for you."
On the bridge of the upper deck, a swarm of mortal bureaucrats scurried about, processing a never-ending stream of logistics and data-slates.
As the masters of the ship—and devotees of Slaanesh—the Astartes rarely deigned to handle the crushing boredom of daily administration. They left it to the mortals. Thus, even on a Chaos-held vessel, a specialized class of human bureaucrats had carved out a niche for themselves.
Adelina was the pinnacle of this class. A forr Imperial Navy officer, she had suffered the sha of defeat during a boarding action. Denied a martyr's death, she beca a prisoner. Telax, recognizing her tactical and administrative brilliance, had elevated her to her current position.
Adelina was content. As a traitor, there was no forgiveness for her in the Imperium. Following the Astartes was her only path to survival. She sat on her command throne, watching the digital pile of docunts shrink, feeling a flicker of professional satisfaction.
Today's work was almost done.
It wasn't until her adjutant offered a stiff salute that she realized an Astartes was standing behind her.
"Good day, Lord Enkidu!"
"Good day, Director Adelina." Enkidu casually tossed a stolen autopistol onto her desk. "I took a stroll through the lower decks and found this. It's too small for . Consider it a gift."
Adelina picked up the weapon, her finger lingering on the trigger guard. Twenty years ago, she had owned a gun exactly like this—back when she was a Lieutenant Commander in the Navy, before the fall.
Now, technically, she wasn't even allowed to own a sidearm.
"It is a fine piece. I admire it, but I am Lord Telax's subordinate. To avoid any... misunderstandings... I cannot accept this."
"You can, and you will," Enkidu said calmly, dropping a taphorical bomb on her desk. "Because this gun isn't just a token of goodwill. It's a warning. You're in trouble, Adelina."
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