Editing Bleeding Out: A Custodian's Story (Warhammer High) (section)

=== Future Plans ===

“…I am not convinced the issue of Heaven’s Gate Starport is being adequately covered.”

Skuratova glared at him over the pile of documents. “The starport has adequate security of its own, on top of our own measures. There is virtually no chance anyone could use it as a back door to the College.”

“Their security is designed to target recidivists and terrorists, not sleeper agents and assassins. And the transit system connects right to the College itself.” Quadriga tapped on a dataslab that was minute in his gauntleted hands. “The current proposals leave an unacceptable amount of risk. A Psi-Screening system should be implemented so any malicious intentions can be detected before it is too late.”

“That would slow down processing at the starport considerably.” Skuratova brought up a schematic of Heaven’s Gate, build onto the flat plains that used to be covered by ocean to the west of San Angeles Hive. “Heaven’s Gate is the main starport for that entire hemisphere. What you are proposing would do far more damage to Terra as a whole.”

“My concern is not Terra. My concern is the safety and security of the Subjects. And Kourtney being on the doorstep of the largest starport outside the Imperial Palace is a major liability.”

The briefing room was a dimly lit, large rectangular space filled by that rarest of things on Terra, a proper wooden table imported from offworld. The rich, dark wood was mostly covered by dataslates, books and other assorted documents. There were seats there for the men and women of the Treasury Security forces, any dignitaries and notables, and a specially-made chair for Primarchs or Custodians that was mostly used by Quadriga in his frequent visits. The off-colour joke that it was the golden throne of the treasury had stuck fast. Quadriga was a statue posed in his chair while Skuratova sat more comfortably in her chair opposite to him. For nearly two hours he and Skuratova had debated, sometimes bitterly the security of the Daughters after graduation scattered them across Terra and the Imperium. Things were soon to get far more complicated for the Treasury and both of them knew it.

“My concern is no less than yours,” Skuratova said irritably, “but we have to make compromises. We cannot impede a vital trade and transhipping hub on the off-chance that someone will use it to get close to Kourtney. And we have enough security set up for Kourtney to counterbalance any weaknesses shown elsewhere.”

“And as I’ve already pointed out, Kourtney is nowhere near as secure as Imperator.” Quadriga stabbed at the dataslab with a golden finger. “It’s not even as secure as Kouthry. At least Kouthry is isolated within the New Arks Hive in Merica, so we can build an effective screening system for all who go in and out.”

“That reminds me,” Skuratova interjected. “Why do Kourtney and Kouthry have such similar names? It’s easy to confuse the two.”

Her sudden change of topic sent a jolt of annoyance through Quadriga, but he decided to humour her. “They were both founded by academic refugees fleeing the anti-intellectual pogroms of the Unspeakable King of Albia. He burned the Universities of his own lands and then turned on the Europan ones, and all the scholars and preservers of ancient lore fled before him bearing what scraps they had held onto down the ages, settling far from where his red hand could reach them. ‘Kou’ is a word for knowledge in one of the lost tongues of Europa.” He impatiently turned the dataslab over in his hands. “But I fail to see what that has to do with matters of security.”

“It doesn’t,” Skuratova have him what she must have fondly imagined was a sweet smile, though to Quadriga it looked more ghoulish. “But it gives me a minute’s breathing space.”

“It gives you a wasted minute that could be better used on more productive matters.” Quadriga countered.

“I find it unusual that an immortal being can complain about wasted minutes. You can afford to waste them.”

“Immortal or not, time is the most precious of resources, one that is always running out. And we don’t have the time for frivolities when there is work to be done.”

Skuratova set the dataslab down, then fixed Quadriga a foul stare. “You seem to forget that myself and the men and women under my command are only mortal. We do not have the legendary vigilance of the Legiones Custodes. We need to take breaks, rest ourselves.”

“And why the Emperor entrusted the security of the Subjects to mere mortals will always confuse me. Your weaknesses have already been exposed on several occasions.”

Red was creeping into Skuratova’s cheeks. “None of the Daughters have ever been harmed under our watch. We have done our duty and done it well.”

“An achievement for sure, but one not purely of the Treasuries making.” Though Quadriga knew very little besides the existence of the Officio Tutamentum, he did know they were a covert protection force operating deep undercover that could cover those areas the Treasury could not. On top of his own efforts and those of fellow Custodians, the Daughters had more security than even the Primarchs. Not that the Primarchs ever needed such measures.

Quadriga saw Skuratova’s hostile glare and felt a prickle of guilt. He always had to remind himself that he could not expect mortals to match the exacting standards of the Legiones Custodes and others. He had to give at least some positive spin on this, lest Skuratova accuse him of demeaning the Treasury again. “The Treasury Security has done as well as was expected, and indeed more so, considering the tasks placed upon it.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “You attempt at a compliment is as sour as unripen citrus.”

Once again, a poor choice of words had left Skuratova fuming and Quadriga annoyed. This had happened countless times despite the many years of cooperation between the two.

He sat in silence, trying to think of what he could say that would defuse the tension. Later, he would occasionally feel the treasonous stab of thought that what happened next had done him a service by making everything else pale in comparison.