Editing Eternity (Warhammer High) (section)

=== Bread and Circuses ===


Lord Primarch Fulgrim steepled his fingers and looked over his desk at his two guests.  “Of course I could, my young friends…but why are you interested?”

Jake and Julius glanced at each other.  “Well, your Lordship, simply put, I had an epiphany,” Jake began.

“Do tell,” Fulgrim said mildly.  The intimidatingly tall white-haired warrior was unusually subdued in dress and demeanor today.  Jake found himself wondering if he had an entire wardrobe he could duck into between guest meetings.

“Your Lordship, I don’t know if you know much about our personal histories, but in case you didn’t, I’m a farmer and he’s a hiver,” Julius said with a faint grin.  “And yet…here we sit.”

“And my brothers and I range from slaves to mining world refugees to princes,” Fulgrim said, returning the joking smile.  “Fate plays strange hands.”

“True enough, Lord.  My point is that we are uniquely suited to understanding what problems the Imperium faces…not as a government, you understand, or as a military force, but as a group of like-minded and disparately-born humans,” Julius said.  “I imagine you, yourself, observed that firsthand.  That common need.  Rich or poor, Terran or out-worlder…we all have the same basic needs.”

“Indeed.”

Jake took over.  “Lord, before the Crusade even ended, you had set up the Foundation for the Advancement of Education and the Arts here on Terra.”

Fulgrim’s brows peaked as he divined the other two men’s goals.  “I did.  Am I to interpret that you wish to offer some assistance towards it?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Julius said.  The two men were switching the speaking role back and forth.  This was rehearsed, Fulgrim surmised.  “We would humbly request some advice, actually.”

“Regarding…what?” Fulgrim asked.

Jake leaned forward.  The lad had clearly undergone the same genetic treatment as most of the other Royal husbands, Fulgrim noted with hidden distaste.  As much as he understood its necessity in the Emperor’s eyes, he found it uncomfortably close to the Astartes creation process, and that was a mechanism that hardly needed to be spread about.

“My Lord, I entered into Venus’ life purely by accident,” Jake said quietly.  “Obviously a chance at romance is hardly the point of scholarships, but the message is there.  How many trillions of Terrans deserve better chances than they get?”  He shook his head.  “Every single one of my friends in my childhood – and I – dreamed of more.  Of finding or being given more.  How many kids think of earning more?”

“Too few,” Julius supplied.  “But some do.”

“So what exactly do you want from the Foundation?” Fulgrim asked, intrigued.

“We want to lend out own experience and influence to the Foundation’s goals, sir,” Jake said.  “Basically, I want to pass along what I’ve learned on my own.  Not in terms of my role in the Family, but in terms of applying the Nocturnean mindset to the Terran hives.”

Fulgrim was quiet for a moment as he thought through the uncomfortable implications of that statement.  “And…if I may ask, what would that be?  As I understand it, your tenure on Nocturne has been a largely invisible one.”

Jake shrugged.  “Well, politically, sure…but I’ve learned so much.”  He winced.  “Sorry, but there’s no way I can say this without sounding snobbish.”

Fulgrim blinked.  “How do you mean?”

“Sir, simply put, I’ve come to realize that a big portion of the Terran poverty problem stems from the fact that a lot of Terrans have decided that their lot in life is sealed shut,” Jake said.  “Nocturneans have a completely different outlook on life, sir, and frankly I think it’s a healthier one.”

“And you wish to lend your aid to the Foundation to support the influence of this Nocturnean outlook?” Fulgrim asked.

“I suppose I so, sir,” Jake said.

Fulgrim thought on this.  “And what do you want out of this, Lord Pius?”

Julius nodded.  “Sir, while my background differs greatly from Jake’s, I want to help out.  The people on Terra want for more than they should.  I’ve seen how much of this planet can barely even afford proper nourishment, let alone luxury.  Even on the Throneworld, things could be better.”  He shrugged.  “I mean, I don’t expect an easy solution, but I feel I could help.”

The Emperor’s Children Primarch leaned back in his seat, brooding.  “And you come to me for advice on how to improve things, or at least help those who are already working to improve things?”

“That’s the gist of it, your Lordship, yes,” Jake said.  “So, will you help us out?”

“No.”

The ticking of the mechanical clock in the room was the only sound for a few moments.  Finally, Jake broke the quiet.  “May I ask why?”

Fulgrim sighed.  “Gentlemen, while the desire to improve the lots of others is a worthy goal, it sounds more to me that you’re trying to force standards on people.”

“How is wanting people to have better access to food forcing standards on anyone?” Julius asked, surprised.

“Because you phrased it in the language of wanting Terrans to live to a higher standard,” Fulgrim pointed out.  “And you, Lord Seager, you said that you wanted people on Terra to learn from the Nocturnean standard.  But if all you wanted was for people to learn their ways, why coach it with charities?  Because then,” Fulgrim said, gesturing in Jake’s direction, “you would inevitably reward those who demonstrated those aspects of Nocturnean life that you admire.  That, by itself, is not entirely unreasonable, but it is not the work of the Foundation.  My Foundation works to ensure those whose lives were damaged by pure happenstance have a fair chance at recovery and improvement, and their children, too.  You want to, essentially, bribe people into adopting your foreign standards.”

Jake sat back in his own seat, thinking furiously.  After nearly a minute of mind-wracking, he looked away.  “…I can’t disagree, I think,” he said.  “This is disappointing.”

“I offer no offence, I hope,” Fulgrim said.  “But I want you to understand why I will not lend my own assistance in this endeavor.  If you wish to work on your own, very well, and I’m sure you will do so with the best of intentions.  But the people will not thank you for it.”

Julius looked sidelong at his friend, but Jake wasn’t upset.  Instead, the hiver-cum-Prince just stood and offered his hand to his uncle.  “Thank you for your time, then, your Lordship,” Jake said heavily.

“Certainly, Lord Seager.  And remember, if you really want to better the lot of your former friends and neighbors, money isn’t the way to do it,” Fulgrim cautioned, shaking the much smaller man’s hand.


Venus slid her night shirt on and glanced over her shoulder at the bed.  Jake was lying there, arms crossed behind his head, staring into space.  She walked up beside him and sat on the bedside.  “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“How did it go today?” she asked, running her fingers over his arm.

Jake sighed, freeing up one hand to squeeze hers.  “He said no.”

“Oh.”  Venus thought that over before leaning back to look at him better.  His face was placid and un-lined.  He didn’t seem to be taking it personally.  Her transhuman eyes lit upon his face and he managed a tiny smile.

“I’m not worried.  He took the time to explain why.  I found myself agreeing with him.”

“He’s pretty persuasive,” Venus chuckled.  “What did he say?”

Jake sighed, staring beyond her into the past day.  “Well, he basically said it would be like bribing people to accept a foreign standard of living.”

Venus pondered that as she slid into bed beside him.  “Huh.  That’s pretty cynical, but I don’t know that he’s wrong.”

“That’s more or less what I said,” Jake said heavily.  “I dunno, sweetheart.  How do I do this?  Fulgrim’s right, I can’t just take up Nocturnean self-reliance and drop it whole on Terra, but…damn it, I feel like I’m not doing enough here!”

Venus raised her eyebrows.  “Here…on Terra?”

“Well, yeah,” Jake said.  “I came from here.  I want to make things better.  And they could be better, baby, so much better.”

“They could,” Venus said.  She tapped her finger on the pillow as she thought.  “Have you tried asking directly?”

Jake looked up at her, confused.  “Who?”

“Terrans.”  Venus glanced down at him, a sly smile playing around her lips.

Jake stared for a moment, before he broke out in a smile too.  “…I love you, baby,” he said softly, running his hand over her nearer arm.

“I know, Jake, and it feels good,” Venus murmured, kissing the crown of his head before snuggling down beside him and flicking off the lights.


Dieter Hatham sank into his chair with a groan of released stress.  The day’s work at the factory had been grueling, like every single other, and all he had to look forward to that night was the weekly poker game he had been holding with his friends since he was eight years old.  As he wearily reached for his slate to get the final headcount, he noted an unusual message in his queue.  He pressed the Open button, and message popped up.


>TO: DHatham5780,

>FROM: TransplantG2R

>DATE: TODAY

>RE: Poker


>Hey, Dieter, it’s me.  Do you mind if I drop in on the game tonight?  I’ll bring my own food, of course.

Dieter blinked.  He didn’t recognize the handle.  He glanced it over and squinted, but the name remained elusive.  He opened his own mail system and typed up a quick response.

>Sure, I guess.  Who is this?  You’re not in my contacts list.

He set the tablet down and rose to prepare the food.  Even as he turned on the heating element in his single studio apartment, the slate beeped.  He looked over at the screen.

>Oh, man, you wound me.  It’s Jake!

Dieter stared at the slate, astonished.  Hadn’t Jake married some princess and moved to far-off wherever?  He typed out a response as the soylens started heating up.

>Are you entirely sure?

Within minutes, he had his response.

>Last I checked.  Can I come to the game tonight?  I assume there is one, I remember it was Fridays.

Dieter hesitated, long enough for his door to knock.  He peered through the eyehole and saw Will standing there, looking around him.  Dieter opened the door and let his friend in, distracted by the email.

“Hey.  You got the table all set up?” Will asked.  When Dieter didn’t answer, he looked over his shoulder.  Dieter was staring at the tablet.  “Someone bail?” Will prompted.

Dieter shook his head.  “No, it’s an unexpected RSVP.”

“Unexpected?” Will glanced over the tablet.  “…Jake’s coming?”

“I haven’t replied,” Dieter said.  He set the tablet down and ran his hands over his face.  “What do you think?”

“Why are you asking me?  We should have him!” Will said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dieter said.  He hesitated to lift the tablet, though.  “Didn’t he move, though?  What’s he doing here?”

Will sat down at the table and dropped his stake into the middle of the table.  “We can just ask.”

“I guess.”  Dieter typed his reply at last.

>Sure.  I’m in Tetra still, Cube 12, Hab 1, Deck 198, Room 198-085.  Stake is fifty credits upfront, buy-in of fifteen, bring your own food.

Within minutes, Jake’s reply lit the screen.

>Cool.  I’ll be there.


As the group assembled, Dieter idly flipped a few cards back and forth on the table, waiting for the last guests.  Counting the running game he had held in middle and high schools, he had been running this game anywhere from one to seven times a week for twenty years.  He would have pitched his skills against a professional if he could find the time to do so.  He wasn’t nervous because he thought he was going to lose.

In fact, why was he nervous at all, he asked himself.  Jake was an old friend, right?  And he wasn’t bringing any of those nobles – or even Ladies Primarch – from the party that one time with him, was he?  He realized he hadn’t asked.

The door rapped again.  He pulled it open to see his old friend standing there, dressed in what was probably supposed to be casual attire, with a large basket hanging off his arm.  His skin was several shades darker than anyone else’s in the room, but the biggest change was his eyes.  They were bright red.

“Dieter, man, good to see you!” Jake said, reaching out his free hand.  It took Dieter a moment to grasp it, though, he was so busy staring at his friend’s changed visage.

“…Uh, yeah, Jake, hi,” the black-haired factory line supervisor said.  “Good to see you too…what’s with the new look?” he asked.

Jake shrugged as he walked in.  “Surgery didn’t quite work out the way it was supposed to.  Long story.  How’s things?” he asked.

“Uh, pretty good, I guess…new factory hours are a bear,” Dieter said.  The other guests took notice of Jake’s arrival and made their way over in the three-room apartment.  The ones who knew Jake personally looked stunned at the changes in his appearance, while the others just shook hands or nodded politely, not seeing any differences.  After all, cosmetic surgery was cheap.  In the hives, some people decided to look like they lived above their station when they didn’t.  Nobody judged for that.

As they sat down, most of the guests chipped in to pay for an expanded ration chip for the evening, so they could eat in.  The chips were special tokens one could redeem in advance for a larger body of people for single meals, and it was common in the hives to have the host pay for once in advance, and then all participants simply pay a percentage when they arrived.  When Dieter put the bowl of soylens on the cooktop and started to add the flavor pouches, Jake got up from the table and brought over a the basket.  He discreetly cleared his throat.

“Would it trouble you greatly if I brought a second course?” Jake inquired.

Dieter looked back at him.  “You brought surface food?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jake said.  He put the basket down on the counter and opened the seal.  “My wife made a pie,” he said.  There was a circular pastry inside.

“Oh…alright,” Dieter said.  “Uh, after the main meal?  Is that when you serve those?”

“Yeah, it’s dessert,” Jake said.

“Okay.”  Dieter walked back over to the table and sat down, deftly pulling the cards from the pack.  “All right, folks, are we all ready?”

“Yeah, I’m in,” Will said, dropping a few of their faithful plastic chips into the pot.

As the players anted up, Jake shucked his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair.  “Thanks for having me, man, I know I haven’t dropped by as much as I should have lately,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Abram said.  “I understand you got hitched since we saw you last.”

Jake held up his hands.  The Nocturnean rings glimmered on his fingers.  “I did."

“Good for you,” Abram said.  He picked up his cards and bet.  “I’m engaged, actually,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?  Congratulations,” Jake said.  “What’s his name?”

Will snorted water on his shirt as Abram glared at his friend.  “Her name is Cris,” Abram said coolly.  Will snorted again.  “Short for Crystal, damn it,” Abram said.

“Well, that’s awesome, dude, congratulations,” Jake said.  He grinned at his old friend and chucked in his cards.  “When are you getting married?”

“A few months, actually,” Abram said.

“Cool.”  Jake watched the rest of the hand in silence, judging the time not to be right for his proposal.

When the food was done, Dieter brought the bowl over and doled some out.  Jake took his portion and glanced over the plate as he did, since the game was paused.  “So, guys, how has everyone been?” he asked.

“It’s not easy,” Dieter said.  Jake raised an eyebrow at his friend’s tone, but kept his mouth shut.

Will shrugged.  “You remember what it’s like,” he said.  “Just existing.”

“Yeah, I do remember,” Jake said.  Then, even as a child he had been somewhat privileged, since his father had actually owned his business.  He was aware in hindsight how much condescension he had exuded in conversation back then.  If he had any chance of his proposal being well-received now, he had to stay polite.  “What are you up to?”

“Line supervisor at a factory in the next hab down,” Will said.

“What do you make?” Jake asked.

“Hair curlers, and some light plastics, mostly,” Will said.

“Oh,” Jake said.  “Custom design or something Martian?”

“STC relics, but that means we’ve got to keep standards up.”  Will spooned the last of his portion of the meat-flavored soylens onto his plate.  “If you let something that’s supposed to be STC-quality slip, wow.  They come down on you hard.”

“I bet,” Jake said.  “Does anyone else here work there?” he asked.

“I do, Dieter does, I think Alan does,” Will said, eyeing a few of the other men at the table.  The other man, Alan, nodded.

Jake finished his food and rose.  “All right.  Anyone not want dessert?” he asked.

“What’s dessert?” Will asked.

“Tonight, a starfruit pie my wife made,” Jake said.  “Anyone not want some?”  He hefted a knife and dug into the basket.

“The hell is a star fruit?  Some kind of space food or something?” Abram asked.

“No, it’s fruit that is literally shaped like a star,” Jake said.  “Fucking amazing.  It’s about the only Terran fruit that can grow on Nocturne without genemodding.”  He hefted a slice of the stuff from the top of the pie to demonstrate its unusual shape.

“So, you did move off-planet after getting married,” Dieter said.  “Why?”

“Because my wife wanted to go home, and I wanted to go with her,” Jake said.  “Venus had obligations there.”

“Really?  It must have been hard,” Will said.

“It was,” Jake said heavily.  “It is.  The weather on Nocturne is terrifying.  Acid storms and earthquakes, every week like clockwork.  Everything’s made of metal or stone because there’s no wood, and because the earthquakes will topple anything more fragile.  The food’s more diverse, but the ambient temperature and gravity are so high that it’s actually pretty hard to walk around outside unless you have special gear or were born there.  Or get genemodded, like I was,” Jake said.

Will stared at him.  “I thought you looked different.”

“Yeah.  I was bedridden for several days, the marrow infusion hurt so bad,” Jake said ruefully.  Was he coming off as immodest?  He couldn’t tell.  “Anyway.  Dig in, guys,” he said, putting plates of the pie in front of the others.  “If my wife were here, she’d say she didn’t make this with cooking, she made it with Applied Chemistry,” he chuckled.  “I burn water, so that works for me.”

“I gotta say, Jake, I’m surprised you’re even here,” Will said, finally broaching the topic.  “Didn’t you get married to a pretty high-tier noble?”

“Lord Vulkan’s daughter,” Jake supplied.

The others either looked stunned or stared at each other.  “Wow,” one of the men Jake didn’t know said.  “Where did you meet?”

“High school,” Jake said.  He sat back down and dug into the pie.  “We also went to the same college.  Actually,” he said, glancing over the others.  “It’s part of why I’m here.  Back on Terra, I mean.  My oldest son is probably going to be going to a Terran school when he’s old enough.  I came here from Nocturne like I do every seven months or so, because Venus and I have obligations to the Royal Family’s Estate, but I wanted to do something else while I was on-planet.”

Dieter and the others exchanged looks.  Jake continued.  “Remember when we were in middle school, we all used to talk about what we’d do for Terra if we made it?” he asked.  “Well…I did.  So when I came here last week, I dropped in on someone.  Do you guys know about the Foundation for the Advancement of Education and the Arts?”

“Sure,” Will said.  “We got some comp from them after an accident on the job meant my brother Drew had to miss six weeks of work.”

“Good,” Jake said.  Despite the name, the Foundation had smaller branches that covered charitable and compensatory funding of all types.  It was one of the reasons Jake had gone to Fulgrim in the first place.  “Well, I went to one of its founders to offer my assistance in exchange for some advice,” he said.

“What advice?” Will asked.

“I wanted to lend myself out for fundraisers and the like, and in exchange, the founder in question would either help me set up my own charity or work through the Foundation towards specific goals.”  Jake sighed.  “He said no.”

“Why?”

“Because he thought it sounded like I would basically be bribing people to adopt different standards of living,” Jake said.  “And he was right.  So I would like your opinions,” he said, taking in the room.  “How can I put my newfound influence to best use for the good of hivers?” he asked.

The room went quiet.  Some of the men looked at Jake uncomfortably, while a few grimaced.  “Man, you know how people around here look at charity,” Will said.  “I think you ought to just donate money to a charity that already exists if you feel like you should be doing more.”

Jake shook his head.  “I don’t mean money alone.  I mean attention-raising.”

“Oh, come on,” Dieter said grimly.  “We all know the drug trade around here is the real problem.  There’s so few Arbites and Praetors that can do anything about it, that nothing gets done at all.  The Enforcers are basically useless for fighting that kind of organized crime.”

“So more cops, or better cops?” Jake asked.

“Both.  Either,” Dieter said.  “Do you really not remember how bad it was?” he asked coldly.

Jake shrugged uncomfortably.  “I do, but things change.  When I left, most of the dealers around my apartment were small fish.”

“Well, things do change, all right,” Dieter said.  “But let’s be realistic here.  How much are you talking about donating to something, here?”

Jake cleared his throat self-consciously.  “Uh, not much actual money, truth be told.  We don’t exactly get paid.  I meant more like doing commercials and fundraisers.”

“What do you mean you don’t get paid?” Dieter asked.

“I mean that the position of Bond Prince of Nocturne doesn’t have a salary,” Jake said.  “We have a tiny stipend from the Royal Family, but we live off of investment dividends.”

"''Bond Prince''?” Dieter demanded.  “Are you serious?”

“That’s my title on Nocturne, yeah,” Jake said.  “On Terra, though, I’m just Jake.  No title here.  I’m still me.”  He coughed again.  “For what it’s worth.  Anyway, I came to you guys because I trust you, and because if I asked my parents, I doubt I’d get a straight answer.  I’m not on the best of terms with my father these days.”

“If you want my honest opinion, get the Emperor to re-instate the Penal Legions,” Abram said.  “I mean, they were a ready-made solution to the drug trade.  The Arbites could just pack up gangs of drug dealers wholesale and ship them off to die.  Perfect.”

Jake snorted.  “I agree.  Unfortunately, they were pretty much an ethical black mark, so he decided to stop creating them shortly after the Crusade ended.  I don’t have the sway to get him to change his mind.  I’ll bring it up next time I see him, though.”

“Wait, you really get to talk to him?” Abram asked.

“He’s my wife’s grandfather, I see him all the time when I’m here,” Jake said.  “Not in a formal context, you understand.  Just…you know, family get-togethers.”  He picked his empty plate up.  “All right, thanks for the advice.  I’ll think it over before I go back to my contact at the Foundation.”

“So who is this contact, anyway?” Will asked.  “You said he was one of the founders.”

“Yes, he is,” Jake said.  “I mean, we’re not exactly friends, but he’s one of Venus’ relatives, so we get along pretty well.”

“Well, man, I don’t know how you do it,” Will said.  “Rubbing shoulders with the Primarchs and whatever.”

Jake shrugged.  “If I’m being perfectly honest, some of them scare the shit out of me, even now,” he said.  “Curze and Mortarion and Angron terrify me.  And I know Fulgrim and Perturabo think the Royal daughters have no business getting married to mortal men, even if Fulgrim would never say it aloud.”

“No offense, man, but Vulkan is scary as hell, too,” Will said.  “Do his eyes really look like that?”

Jake nodded.  “Yeah.  So do Venus’.  And N’bel’s, and Carmine’s,” Jake said.  “N’bel and Carmine are my sons.  N’bel was Vulkan’s father’s name, Carmine was my father’s father’s name.”  He set the plates back in the basket and sat back down.  “Okay.  Thanks for the advice, guys.  Let’s play poker,” he said, picking the deck up.

“You have children?” Dieter asked.

“Yeah.  Two boys, twelve and a few days short of seven.”  Jake grinned wistfully as it struck him that his eldest was as old now as he had been when he met his wife.  “Time flies.”

“Wait, twelve?  Damn, you got off to a quick start,” Will observed.

“We got married before we finished college,” Jake said.  He dealt the cards out.  “All right.  Who’s in?”



Several hours later, the game broke up.  As Jake collected his things and prepared to go, his vox buzzed.  He pulled it loose and answered it.  “Hello?”

“My Prince, are you ready to head out?” Jake’s bodyguard asked.

“I am, but I think I want to take the trams, not the car,” Jake decided.

The line was silent.  “Are you certain, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

“I am.  I used to live here.  I’m safe,” Jake said.  “And I want to drop in on my parents.”

“Very well,” the guard said, already thinking over the new security routes he would have to take.

Jake finished the call and slid the vox back into his pocket.  He picked up the basket and walked over to the door.  “Hey, Dieter, thanks for having me over, man,” he said.

Dieter nodded, feeling unexpectedly hesitant.  “Good to see you, too, Jake.  Sorry if I was being an ass, before.”

Jake blinked.  “I didn’t get that vibe.  I was more worried that I would sound like a spoiled asshole, actually.”

Dieter managed a tired laugh.  “We surprised each other, then, I guess.”

“Tell you what,” Jake said, hefting the basket.  “Next time I’m on Terra, you guys can play at my place.  I miss you guys a lot when I’m not on Terra.  I shouldn’t forget where I came from.”

“Really?  You think about us when you’re off in space or whatever?” Will asked from the table.

“Absolutely!  You guys were my best friends when I was in public around here,” Jake said.  “Nobody on Nocturne plays cards like you guys, either.  Buncha pussies when the chips hit the table,” he joked.  “You guys would make a mint on Carshim or any other casino planet.”

“You really think so?” Abram asked.

“Absolutely.”  Jake smiled and backed out.  “All right.  So long, guys.”

Outside, he slid his sunglasses on over his eyes and carried the basket over to the car.  The security codes on his keyfob told him nobody had approached the vehicle, so he opened the door and put the basket on the front seat.  He tapped the ‘Return’ key on the fob and it lifted to soar off to the house that he and Venus shared on Terra.  Jake himself turned and hiked up the collar of his jacket a bit, then slid his hands into its front pockets and walked towards the public trams.  The miniaturized digital needler in his pocket clinked against his fingernail as he did so, and he slid it on.  No point in being incautious.  He had considered bringing the tiny laspistol he had made for himself, too, but decided against it.

As he walked away from the apartments and entered the huge lift tubes that raised him to the first major public tram terminal, he thought over what his friends had said.  More policing of the drug trade.  Would that make enough of a difference?  There was little drug trade on Nocturne since the world was almost entirely deserts or acid oceans, and all chemical imports were controlled down to the ounce.  But Terra…Terra had a drug trade as old as the species.  What could he do about it?

He exited the lift and walked over to the nearest guidepost.  The trams were a brief walk from the lift, and Jake walked over, making sure not to pay too much attention to anyone else.

The streets of Nocturnean cities were much safer, he thought to himself, despite everything.  People weren’t afraid of eye contact on Nocturne.  The Astartes walked the streets and helped the people.  Still, this was where he was born.  If he didn’t take the lessons he’d learned on Nocturne to the streets of Terra, what right did he have to call himself Vulkan’s son-in-law?

He craned his head up to look at the armored and reinforced ceiling, high above.  The artificial lights had been carefully designed not to harm the eyes of the viewers, but they weren’t a real sun.  There was no cloud cover.  It didn’t feel natural, even after growing up under it.

Jake sighed to himself and walked on to the tram station, his mind turning over his thoughts as he went.


Aboard the tram, Jake leaned back in a corner seat, musing.  If he offered his support to the Arbites directly, it would be a waste of time.  After all, the Arbites weren’t the problem.  And the more he thought about it, the Enforcers couldn’t really do much more than they already were either.  The problem was the Praetors.  It was their job to enforce Cube and Spire-level law, where the Arbites enforced Imperial law and the Enforcers covered the normal Habitation and per-level rules.  The Praetors had to be able to track them better than the Enforcers could, and the Arbites didn’t much care about simple drug trafficking in most cases, since it was legal on some worlds and not others.  Terra, after all, had to be held to the same standards as any other Imperial world in the enforcement of the Book of Judgment.

He shook his head.  All he could do was put words in the right ears, really.  Beyond that, it was up to individual Terrans.

Speaking of individual Terrans, he thought.  The number of people on the car was increasing considerably.  Each stop added passengers.  Even as he looked, several dozen more people stepped onto the car.  As the tram car pulled away from the station, the various people found seats.  One young man, not a day older than ten, sat on the seat beside him, glancing enviously at Jake’s expensive clothes and rings.  Another boy, this one with a more furtive look about him, sat next to the other boy on the far side and glanced nervously around the car.  After they were underway, he leaned over to the first boy and whispered something.  Jake looked away at the lights flashing by the windows, but his enhanced hearing picked up every word.

“Dude, that’s totally him!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the first boy asked.

“The guy at the front!  He’s packing a Lawmaker!  It’s an Arbitrator!  We’re fucked!” the second boy whispered.  He was clearly on the verge of panic.

“Stay calm,” the first one said under his breath.  “We’ll just get off on the next stop.”

Jake grimaced.  Thieves.  Not even ten, and they were thieves.  Disgusting.  Even at his worst, he had never sunk that low.  Or was he passing judgment too quickly?  Were they just afraid of the police?  He remembered people like that when he lived here.

Whatever.  It wasn’t his business.  Jake turned back to see the car had filled almost completely by now.  He rose to feet to allow someone pushing a wheelchair to pass him, and as he did, his vox fell from his pocket.  Jake’s hand fell to the seat where it landed, muttering a curse.

The screen lit as his fingers brushed a button, though it didn’t unlock.  It popped up his contact list as it landed.  Jake, stuck upright until he could sit and grab the vox, noted the boy next to him staring at it.  How rude.  Didn’t he have a sense of privacy?

As the wheelchair passed, Jake sat down and snatched the errant electronics up, sliding the vox back into his pocket.  The boy glanced at him as he did, his fear melting away into suspicion.

“Excuse me,” the kid said. His voice was suddenly very young indeed.  “Are you a member of the Ordo Investigatorum?”

Jake stared.  “…What?” he asked.

“I mean…that’s an off-world vox, and you have a needler,” the boy said, his voice trailing off.

Jake glanced at his finger.  “How did you know this was a needler?” he asked, surprised that the boy even knew what it was.

“I’ve seen holos,” the kid said.  “Wow.  So you are?”

“First off, if I were, do you think I would tell you?” Jake asked, annoyed.  “Second, do you make a habit of talking to strangers on trams?”

“But we didn’t do anything!” the second boy spoke up.  His voice was reedy with fear.  “Please, you have to help us, sir!  The Arbites want to get us!”

“For asking questions, or because you actually broke the law?” Jake said.

“I…I-I don’t know!” the first kid lied, his face paling.

Jake sighed heavily.  “Don’t lie to me.”

The second kid bit back a sob.  That, at least, sounded real.  Jake looked over to see a series of tiny cuts along the child’s hands.  Not injection marks or calluses, though.  They reminded Jake of his wife’s hands after she spent a meditative session in the forges.  They were cuts from gripping tools too tightly, and skin drying quickly.  “Kid, what happened to your hand?” Jake asked, a horrible suspicion setting in.

“Nothing, sir,” the kid managed, fear and nerves undermining his voice.  Jake’s heart ached.  He was only a few years away from his own sons, damn it.

“Kid, please,” he said, trying to channel his father-in-law’s voice and presence.  “Your hands bear the marks of a powder cutter.”

The kid flinched and hid his hands.  “It’s just for now,” he said, perhaps realizing that confessing something like that to a member of the Ordo was potentially dangerous.

So the kids were members of a drug dealer’s gang, and were fleeing its downfall.  Jake gritted his teeth, but kept up his façade.  “All right, boys,” he said softly.  “Here’s what we’re going to do.  When the train stops, I’m going to call for a pickup by the Treasury.  I’m going to drop you off with them.  Once you’re with them, you’ll be safe.  Just tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  Do you understand?”

The boys exchanged frantic looks, but neither said anything.  As the car slowed, Jake lifted his vox and hit the Treasury page button.  In an instant, the speaker chirped.

“Lord?” his bodyguard’s voice asked.

“I have two children here in need of protective pickup at…station 175, deck 19, same Cube as before,” Jake said into the vox.  “They’re going to tell a bit of a tale.”

“Sir?” his bodyguard asked, confused.  “What do you mean?”

“Please just arrange a pickup,” Jake said.  “I’ll be off shortly.”

Jake hung up and pocketed the vox.  He rose and gestured for the door as the tram slid to a halt.  Both boys obligingly trooped out as Jake followed them, watching the station for any sign of the Treasury vehicles.  He held up a hand for stillness as a man who followed them off the tram walked up quickly behind them.

“Step away from the children immediately,” the man said curtly.  His hand was fingering a poorly-concealed pistol in his coat pocket as he said it.  Jake eyed him.  The boys’ assessments seemed accurate.  A plainclothes Arbitrator or Praetor, for sure.

“Very well, Judge, but I’ve already arranged for a pickup,” Jake said, keeping his hands still.  The boys looked frightened enough to bolt, but didn’t move.

“Keep your hands visible and don’t move,” the Judge said, gesturing at Jake’s ring.  “Take the needler off and place it on the floor, now.”

Jake sighed and did so.  The Judge took a step forward to collect it when a group of seven men in the distinctive beehive uniforms of the Treasury’s special protective service.  The Treasury agents marched straight up to where Jake was standing, taking in the strange tableau as the other passengers and pedestrians stared.  “Your Highness,” one of the black-masked Treasury operatives said without preamble.  “You ordered a pickup?”

“These kids here could use some help,” Jake said, gesturing at the two boys.  “Or do you have something to add, Judge?” he asked, glancing at the Judge over the rims of his sunglasses.

The Judge blinked, but apparently recognized the mark of the Salamanders in Jake’s eyes.  “Negative, sir.  I apologize,” he started.

“Oh hush, you didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” Jake said.  “Now.  Gentlemen, let’s went,” he said, scooping up his ring as he walked by it.


That evening, Jake was sitting in the tiny waiting room of the Arbites Courthouse nearest the site of the arrest when Venus stormed in.  She sighted her errant husband in the corner of the room, reading a magazine.  “Jake!  What the hell happened out there?” she demanded.

Jake stood.  “Hello.”

“The car comes back empty, Blake tells me you go off for a stroll, and then you get two small children ARRESTED?” she fumed.  “What the hell party did you attend, exactly?”

Jake fought back a laugh.  Venus’ eyes turned even brighter.  “Okay, long story short is that when I took the tram home, I realized that the two kids next to me had cuts on their hands from cutting powder in a drug lab,” Jake explained.  Venus stared, her ire fading to astonishment.  “I called a Treasury pickup, and here we are.”

“You called in the Treasury instead of the Arbites…why?” Venus asked, walking up to him.  The room was empty save them at this hour.

Jake sat back down.  “The children were afraid of the Arbites.  I thought they might be more talkative with the Treasury.  That, and I could page the Treasury faster.”

Venus groaned.  “Jake, baby, I love you but you’re denser than ceramite.  You could have gotten robbed or shot or something!”

“By those kids?  They were so scared they could barely move,” Jake said.  “I grew up down here, Venus, I can look after myself.”

Venus rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers and sat beside him.  “All right.  Sure.  Ugh.”  She glared at him, her eyes fading to their normal, healthy glow.  “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine, baby, don’t worry,” Jake said.  “Where are the larvae?”

“Back home, worried sick,” Venus said.

Jake sighed.  “I’ll apologize for spooking them when we get home.”

“No, you won’t, they’ll be in bed by then,” Venus said in exasperation.  “Let’s just get you home, all right?”


Jake sat at his son N’bel’s bedside later that night and tried not to look too tired.  “Hey, son, you should be asleep,” he said quietly.

“I was scared!” N’bel said indignantly, pique laced through his twelve-year-old voice.  “You were off getting arrested or something!”

The hiver grinned and sat back in his seat.  “Well, I wasn’t trying to scare you.  I just took a detour on my home from my friend’s place.”

“But you’re okay, right?” N’bel demanded.

“Right as rain, N’bel, fear not.”  Jake stood.  “Now.  I’m going to go tuck your brother in.  I’ll see you later, all right?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, all right,” N’bel grumbled.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad.”

“Good night.”  Jake hesitated before closing the door.  N’bel glanced at him from the bed.

“Dad?”

“Sorry.  Just…hang on,” Jake said.  He crossed the space to the bed and leaned over to give his son a quick hug.  “Don’t you ever get mixed up with those drug pushers, you hear me?” he murmured.  “I love you too much for that.”

“Dad, come on,” N’bel muttered.

Jake sighed into his son’s wavy black hair.  “Sorry.  You sleep tight.  We’re going over to Grandma Sandra’s place tomorrow, all right?”

“Yeah, all right,” N’bel said.  Jake straightened back up.

“Good night,” he said, and this time he closed the door behind him.

Carmine was already fast asleep next door, so Jake contented himself with a peck on the boy’s cheek and a whispered ‘goodnight.’  Leaving the room, he walked up the steps to the building’s top floor, where he joined his wife on the balcony of their master suite.  Venus was already in her bathrobe, trusting in the building’s holoscreen to protect their privacy.  Jake walked up behind her and slid his arms on either side of her to rest over her own hands on the wrought iron railing.  “Hello,” he said softly.

“Hi there,” she said flatly.

Jake sighed into the downy fabric of her robe’s collar.  “I’m sorry if I worried you, love,” he said in Nocturnean.

“I was confused and damn it, why did you scare me like that?” Venus replied in the same tongue.  “My Prince, your life is too high a price to pay for adventuring!”

“Venus, I just wanted to time to think,” Jake said honestly.  He kissed the back of her head and breathed in the scent of her shampoo and perfume.  “I was distracted.  Upset.  I wanted to walk through streets I used to call mine.”

“I know, Jake, that’s not what worried me,” Venus sighed.  She pushed his arms away and turned around, looking up into his eyes.  Jake was taken aback at the sadness he saw.  “Please, tell me what happened!”

Jake nodded.  “Well, the party was pretty much what I expected,” he said in Gothic.  He wasn’t quite fluent in Nocturnean.  “I learned a lot, some of the guys had interesting ideas.”

“All right…how were they?” Venus asked, putting her patience to work.  Jake was obviously just marshaling his thoughts.  Her father acted the same way at times.

“Well…for where they live in the hive, pretty well, but…” Jake trailed off.  “Shit.  They deserve better.”  He sighed, thinking over the tiny apartment and reprocessed people and feces they had had for dinner.  “They liked the pie, though,” he added as an afterthought.

Venus snorted.  “Good.  What were their suggestions?”

Jake sat on the little bench in the corner of the porch and thought back.  Venus sat beside him, adjusting her robe as she did.  “Hmm.  The principle suggestion was that the Arbites crack down harder on day-to-day drug trading.  And…shit, what I saw on the tram, I think they’re right.”  Jake grimaced bitterly.  “Ten.  They were ten years old, and for pennies a day, they were cutting drugs in some lab.  I know those cuts.  Kids came to school with those cuts,” he said, remembering back to middle school.  “The kids with the shiny new voxes and bags under their eyes.”  He turned a pained glance on Venus.  “N’bel is only two years older than them, and they were so terrified of the Arbites that they preferred me turning them in.  They thought I was an Ordo spook.”

“Are you serious?” Venus asked in astonishment.

Jake held up his hand.  “They saw the needler.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Venus groaned.

“So you can see the confusion,” Jake continued with half a grin.  The balcony lit up a bit as a passing car’s headlights made it through the holoscreen, which Venus had set to two-way.  Venus ground her palms into her eyes.

“Okay, so, you turned them in, long story short, here we are?” she finished for him.

“Essentially.”  Jake nodded.  “Well.  The kids are at least safe now.”

“Kids.”  Venus shook her head.  “Unbelievable.  What kind of deplorable…ugh.”

“Mommy?”

Both adults looked over to the door of the porch.  Carmine was clinging blearily to the doorframe, wiping his eyes.  His soft pajama pants glowed in his mother’s stare.  “What are you doing out here?  Is Dad home?”

“I’m right here,” Jake said, standing up and walking over to his son.  He knelt and wrapped the little boy in a hug.  “Hey, sorry if I kept you up.  You were asleep when I got home!”

“I heard someone walking in the hall,” Carmine muttered tiredly.

“Well, let’s get you back in bed, alright?” Jake asked.  “I can tell you what happened in the morning.”

“M’kay,” Carmine said, allowing his father to turn him around and guide him down the hall to the stairwell.  Venus stayed behind, sitting on the bench where she had been, her mind wandering.  Did Jake have a point?  Was the incredibly low crime rate of Startseite blinding her to the problems of other Terrans?  She wasn’t going to pretend that the state of hivers was the fault of anyone other than hivers, but still…

Below, Jake watched as his son climbed into bed.  Carmine yawned and snuggled down under the covers.  “Can I ask you something before you go, Dad?” Carmine asked.  The incredibly bright lights of his eyes – the brightest Jake had ever seen save those of Vulkan himself – dimmed as the boy started to drift back to sleep.

“Sure, son, what’s up?” Jake asked, sitting at his son’s bedside.

“Why do you want N’bel and me to go to school here?” Carmine asked.

“I want N’bel to go to high school here, and I can hardly leave you behind,” Jake pointed out.  “And N’bel wants to go to school here too.  You don’t have to,” he said.

“I want to go home for school,” Carmine said.

“Well, you can.”  Jake stood.  “Tell you what.  Your new school starts in a few weeks.  Why don’t you try that out for a while?  I think you’ll be pretty popular.”

“Why?”

“Because you like new things,” Jake said.  “And you’re really smart.”

“I guess,” Carmine said tiredly.

Jake snorted.  “Good night, Carmine.  See you tomorrow morning.”

Upstairs, Venus lounged on the balcony bench, idly running her hands together.  The thick web of scars and wear marks on her hands were the product of thousands of hours in the forges, not fighting or drug use, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized what Jake must have seen, and why it had him so emotional.  She wondered what she would have done in his place.

“Sweetheart?  Carmine’s in bed now,” Jake said from the door.

Venus sat up, then rose, snugging her robe.  “Good.  Was he okay?”

“Just night sounds keeping him up,” Jake said.  He walked into the bedroom and started undressing.  “I really do apologize if I scared you,” he said around a mouthful of shirt.

“I’m just glad it all worked out,” Venus said.  She slid her robe off and hung it on the peg.  She paused before climbing into the bed.  “Have you figured out why you wanted to do all this?” she asked.

Jake pulled sleeping clothes on slowly, thinking the question over.  “I think I have, yeah.”

“And have you decided what you’re going to do?”

He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling as Venus doused the lights.  “I’m getting there.  Safer schools would help, but…I dunno.  I feel like…like I’m letting them down, you know?  My old family.”

“You’re seeing my parents and yours tomorrow,” Venus pointed out.  “Ask them.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I should,” Jake said.  He reached out his hand in the darkness and caressed Venus’ flat stomach, eliciting a giggle at the tickling feeling.  “Do you think we keep the boys safe?” Jake asked softly, the terror in the eyes of the boys on the tram coming back to him.  “I feel like I can barely even tell what they’re thinking sometimes.”

“You think I can?” Venus asked drily.  “They’re boys.  They feel like aliens to me half the time.”  She squeezed his hand.  “I think we’re doing okay so far.”

“Me too,” Jake said, and he let her warmth lull him to rest.


Venus squeezed Carmine’s shoulder as he exited the car outside the Seager family home.  “Don’t stare, Carmine,” she said softly.  Her son was eyeballing a few pedestrians, who were clearly taken aback by what probably looked, for all intents and purposes, like a mutant pack exiting a car with the Imperial Aquila on it.  Carmine shot them a parting glare and looked up at the small apartment that the Seagers shared, the same one Jake had purchased for them several years before.  The structure was decorated in fashionable low-key Gothic style, with no windows at all, but a large aircar pad right outside the door.  N’bel ran ahead of the others and eagerly knocked on the door.

His mother Sandra opened the door and beamed at her grandson.  N’bel, smartly clad in a neat Terran formal shirt, smiled up at her from the stoop.  “Grandma Sandra!” he exclaimed.

“Hello, N’bel,” Sandra said, hugging him as he entered.  “Goodness, you’re a foot taller than you were when I saw you last!”

“You think so?” N’bel asked.  Lights flashed across the front of the apartment as the neverending streams of traffic raced by on the elevated roadways and in the air.

“I do!” Sandra said.  She leaned over to hug Carmine as he raced up to her.  “Carmine!  How are you?” she asked.  George walked up behind them, grinning at his enthusiastic grandsons.

“I’m okay, Grandma,” Carmine said.  He hugged George in turn as N’bel made for the bathroom after the nearly hour-long flight to the apartment.  “I’m a little nervous about school starting.  I don’t people to make fun of my accent or anything here,” he said.

“Oh, honey, trust me, nobody will do that,” Sandra said.  “Nobody important anyway.”

Jake shook his father’s hand and hugged his mother as his sons found seats in the main room.  “Mom, Dad, good to see you again,” Jake said.  He hadn’t aged a day in fourteen years, where his parents most certainly had, but the better accommodations of the home he had bought for them had afforded them a higher standard of living, and both were still spritely.

“Hello, Jake,” George said.  “Venus, you look radiant,” he added, hugging his daughter-in-law.  His rumpled short-sleeve work shirt was kept fastidiously clean, and had the name ‘Seager Metalworking and Rapair’ emblazoned on the breast pocket.  “How was the flight?”

“Slow.  We got pulled over once, if you can believe that,” Venus said.

Sandra stared.  “Someone actually pulled over a vehicle with the Imperial flags on it?” she asked.

“No, not like a traffic stop or anything, just a snarl in the autopilot,” Venus said.  She looked around the apartment, searching for the time.  “Oh, it’s only noon.  Good.”

“Yes, it’s early.”  Sandra and George sat down, and Carmine immediately crawled into his grandfather’s lap.  “Oof.  Hey, kiddo,” George said, grinning at his grandson.  Carmine hurriedly slid his shades on to keep from blinding his grandfather.


After a while recounting the past year and a half of separation, the boys stayed in the main room to play games on the holo while the adults took to the little kitchenette.  The Seagers listened as Jake recounted his adventure with law enforcement the day before.  “So, apparently I’m an Ordo spook, too,” he finished.  “That was a new one.”

His mother stared at him, pained.  “Jake, sweetheart, I know you want to make a difference,” she began.  The brown-haired office worker had had her own problems with drug pushers working near their own home before Jake had moved them out entirely.  “But Dieter was right.  The problems are with the Arbites and simple human nature,” she said.  “You can’t fix that.”

Jake sighed heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose.  “I suppose.  I still feel that I could at least help the Arbites out a bit.”

“How?  Funding?  Training?” Sandra asked.  “If you only help out one hab, people will call favoritism.”

Her son nodded glumly.  “I guess you’re right.”

“Anyway, we’re just glad you’re okay,” George said.  His voice was momentarily drowned out by a whoop of pure pride from the other room as Carmine managed to run his brother over in an aptly-named Salamander in the game they were playing.  “Are you going to be staying in town while N'bel is at Imperator?” he asked, changing the subject.  “It’s a long drive from Cordoma.”

“Actually no,” Venus said.  “If you take the skylanes it’s only twenty minutes per trip.  The boys will just get the car.  I’ll drive them to school and then go to the Palace to work, rather than working from home.”

“And what will you be doing all day?” Misja asked Jake.  He shrugged.

“Well, I have work to do too.  I’ll either go with the boys or work from home,” he said.  He placed both hands on the table and looked closely at his parents.  Any revulsion they still felt towards his new appearance was more or less gone, by now.  “I want to make something clear, though, as long as we’re still here,” he said.  “Is it alright if the boys stop off here every so often if we can’t pick them up?”

“Absolutely!” Sandra said.  “Are you sure they wouldn’t want to stay at Vulkan’s and Misja’s house, though?  It’s much closer,” she noted.

“It is, but they want to see you two just as much,” Venus pointed out.

“Hey, Dad, can you help us with this?” N’bel called from the other room.  Jake wandered in to help the co-opping brothers through a particularly tough level as the Seagers and Venus continued their discussion.

“We’ve made it very clear to the boys that you’re as much a part of the family as my parents are, even given their…traits,” Venus said, waving at her eyes.  “Really.  And I promise they’ll thank you for having them.  They go years without seeing their grandparents when we’re on Nocturne.”

“Well, we always like it when they stop by,” Sandra said.  “They’re welcome any time.”