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

=== The High Lords of Terra ===

The rest of the trip passed without incident with the two discussing several plans for what they would have to do next to keep the subjects safe for the foreseeable future. Two hours of hypersonic travel across half the planet brought the gunship to a shuddering halt, and with a hiss of pressure the lower hatch opened to a blast of chilled air and the spires of the Palace jutting out of grey snow-capped rock. Another Custodian Transport, a Coronus Grav-Carrier was waiting for them with a pair of the Sagittarum guards flanking it on either side.

As they emerged into the fading sunlight, in unison the Sagittarum Guards lowered their Calivers, aimed square at Quadriga, Skuratova and her aides. 

“Caput.” He barked.

“Pomerium.” Quadriga called back. That instant they stood down and waved the party forwards.

“Do they have to do that?” Skuratova asked. “We’ve been through at least three layers of security already. They should know we are friendly at this point.”

“We are in the innermost sanctums of the Palace now. You are under the aegis of the Ten Thousand.” Quadriga explained as they disappeared into the confines of the Coronus. For Quadriga he had to stoop to fit in, but to the humans it was extremely roomy. He felt the craft lift off and speed away into the depths of the Palace.

Skuratova brought up her notes on her dataslate. “The Council of Terra, or rather those members who happen to be in the Palace at present wish for us to explain what has happened and how we let it happen, and what steps we will take in response.”

Quadriga nodded. “If you wish, I will speak on your behalf. I know how to deal with mortals.”

Skuratova signed audibly. “And that is one of the things I am worried about, Quadriga.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I will address them first. You can speak on the technical matters but leave the rest to me.”

“As you wish.”

The Coronus finally coasted to a halt, and they emerged before a magnificent doorway, every inch of it lovingly carved. A stream of people were moving both in and out in a neverending tide.

“It has been a long time since I was last here.” Skuratova breathed, her eyes taking in the sights.

“The Great Chamber of the Senatorum Imperialis lies within.” Quadriga stated matter-of-factly. “Capable of holding a million people. I hope we are not meeting in there.”

Skuratova pulled out her dataslate. “No. We’re being called to one of the secondary meeting rooms deeper inside.”

“We do not want to keep the Council waiting.” Quadriga was already off and cursing under her breath Skuratova followed.

Just inside the door as the vast crowds parted before the new arrivals, a cyber eagle swooped down and hovered before them. “Follow me.” A synthesized voice came from the mech, and with a beating of wings it flew off to the left, towards one of the dozens of doorways full of the hustle and bustle of people.

The menials who worked here were wide-eyed at the fully-armoured Custodian and the gold and black clad woman marching down the corridors with obvious purpose. The dove out of the way, giving the small group a wide berth.

Deeper and deeper into the bowels of the building they went, and progressively the crowds grew thinner and thinner until aside from the occasional robed figure they were alone, following the cyber eagle through the maze of corridors.

Finally they came to a blank metal door with only the standard Imperial Aquila stamped into it. The Eagle perched above the doorway.

“You first.” Skuratova gestured to Quadriga.

Quadriga banged on the door with the heel of his spear three times.

“Enter.”  A voice boomed out, loud enough to easily pierce the heavy door.

The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges, and Quadriga bowed his head to fit through. Instantly his eyes were up and focused on the half-dozen figures sitting around a bare plasteel table.

Directly opposite him and facing the door was a figure that despite his unimpressive appearance radiated an aura of calm and command. His badge of office lay on the table before him, the usual flames topping it extinguished. His hands were tented before him, sharp eyes burning into the new arrivals. Quadriga blankly returned his gaze for a few seconds, before his eyes turned to the other figures seated there.

There was the welcome face of Constantin Valdor, who with a brief quirk of one eyebrow gave silent greetings to Quadriga. The Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica stared at the bare ceiling, eyes unfocused, staff loosely held in one hand. The Master of the Administratum looked the most displeased, a scowl on his lips as he watched them enter. The Paternoval Envoy of the Navis Nobilite looked singularly disinterested in everything while the Lord Commander Militant of the Imperial Army looked like he wished he was anywhere else at that exact moment, the slightest hints of fidgeting visible only to Quadriga’s enhanced eyes. Finally the Grand Provost Marshal of the Adeptus Arbites gave a nod of greetings to Skuratova, the only one to do so.

“Welcome, Secutarii-Filias.” The voice was low but regal, laden with aged wisdom. There was no accent to it, Quadriga could not make out where it originated. That in itself was unusual. “I know that events have not had you at an advantage at present, but we must discuss said events and what our collective response to them must be. Please, take a seat.”

Malcador the Sigilite, First Lord of the Council of Terra and right hand of the Emperor gestured to a set of pressed metal seats facing them, including one clearly made for the great bulk of a Custodian.

“Would you care for some water?” Malcador asked, gesturing to a great silver pitcher on the table surrounded by glass cups.
One of Skuratova’s aides helped himself while the others followed the lead of their mistress and sat firm. Once the aide was back in his seat, Malcador continued.

“While we all know the general details of this morning’s incident, the council would like a full report from you.”
Skuratova was out of her seat immediately.	

“We recognise Akilina Ilyinchova Skuratova, Director-General of the Treasury Security Forces.”

Skuratova gave a deep bow. “My Lords and Ladies.” She gave a hushed cough to clear her throat, then in a steady and authoritative tone launched right into it. “At approximately 10:37 hours local time, a sniper who has been identified as a ‘Ulysses Keiter’ of Hive Tetra fired a single shot from a Gannet .402 sniper rifle. The shot was aimed at the Ladies Kiara Curze and Morticia, who were conversing at a local dining establishment in Startseite much patronaged by all the Daughters. The Lady Morticia was critically wounded in the incident and is currently undergoing emergency treatment in Medicae Primus of Startseite. My agents immediately sealed off the area, escorted the remaining Daughters to the Palace for security and defended the site while evidence was retrieved.”

“This is known.” Malcador said. “What is not known is how this was allowed to happen.” An edge of steel crept into his voice, the barest hint of a threat. “Many safeguards were put into place. How were none of our future scryers able to forsee this?” His words were directed at the Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, who instantly snapped back into focus.

“Lord Malcador, you know better than even I the problems with seeing the future.” The melodic quality of the City of Sight filtered through his words. “Even the seers of the Eldar struggle with untangling the twisted strands of the great weave of future events. And their skills are more subtle and nuanced than ours.” 

How the universe had changed. Once, to claim Eldar superiority in psychic arts would have been akin to treason. Now, it seemed a part of normal discourse. Quadriga could never get used to it. He’d killed enough Eldar down the years to instinctively see them as enemies.

The Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica gave a pointed gesture of his head towards Skuratova. “Besides, the real concern lies in the hands of the Treasury. While we cannot see everything clearly, it is their task to prepare for what cannot be foreseen in time. That is in their charter, is it not?”

“You are correct.” Malcador said evenly. “The Treasury Security Forces are the newest branch of the Administratum, founded in order to give the best protection possible to the new, extended families of the Primarchs. To show that the lives of the Daughters could be safely entrusted to mere human hands even while some voices claimed that duty should be granted to the Astartes or even the Custodes.”

Quadriga remembered the debates within the Ten Thousand when those proposals had first been voiced. There were plenty within the Legion, led by Tribune Diocletian Coros, who had been vehemently against such a thing. In council Quadriga remembered his harsh words that such a duty was a waste of their talents and a needless diversion from their only true purpose: defending the Emperor. Regardless, it was taken out of their hands when the Treasury was founded to take on that duty, though in the end a single Custodian was still detached to join in the security of the Daughters.

“And yet we have now seen those hands slip.” Malcador’s voice now contained a measure of disappointment. “A Daughter lies wounded, possibly even dying, while those who were tasked with defending her were helpless to act. This was a regrettable incident.”

“This was a bloody balls up more like.” The Lord Commander Militant suddenly interjected, and a hint of a jermanic accent bled into his words. “You had one task Skuratova. One task, and you failed. Were I in charge, I would have you shot for negligence.”

Skuratova’s face went red, but before she could reply the Grand Provost Marshal said. “You might command the legions of the Imperial Army, Lord Commander Militant, but the discipline of the Director General thankfully lies beyond your purview.”

“You cannot be serious about letting her off the hook?” The Lord Commander Militant turned to face him. “The last thing we can do here is allow incompetence to go unpunished.”

“I concur with the Lord Commander.” The Master of the Administratum added. His words were not as fiery, but the venom dripping from them was just as pronounced. “Skuratova bears the responsibility of the Treasury Security forces. Their misstep is her misstep, and blood calls for blood.”

Their anger struck Quadriga as not being entirely genuine. He could read emotion as clearly as though it were a book, and there was none of the tell-tale signs that betrayed emotion unshackled from logic. No, this was advancing an agenda. They needed a scapegoat, and Skuratova was on the chopping block.

Skuratova opened her mouth to defend herself, but the Master of the Administratum was not finished. “The entire idea of the Treasury was a mistake. In an age of supermen and secular demigods, mere humans cannot hope to offer the kind of defence we need for the Daughters. We were persuaded that giving mortals the task would be a test of how well human forces could cope, but that is now proven to have been a busted flush.”

For the first time a look of actual despair flashed across Skuratova’s face. The Master of the Administratum was her overall superior, and if he had turned against her then she was in truly serious trouble.

Malcador tapped on the table with his staff, and instantly everyone went quiet. “Now is not the time for recriminations. That will come, and it will be fair and just. But at the moment we need to decide what we are to do next. Tensions and feelings are high, and that can often cause just as much damage as any bullet.”

Skuratova seized her chance. “Our procedures were sound.” She said emphatically. “For the entire duration of our existence we have kept the daughters safe so long as they are under our direct protection. That café had long been used by the Daughters as a favoured establishment and we had been given many chances to perfect our security measures for it. Our security cordon had been set out to five hundred yards. And we scanned every last building within gunshot range in the hours beforehand, though it now appears the shooter moved in after our initial work was deemed complete. I trust you understand, ladies and gentlemen, just how hard it is to make sure that every single last possibility is covered?”

“Yes. But of all the possibilities, a shooting ranks extremely highly in the risk scale.” The Master of the Administratum pressed. “Surely a permanent watch for the duration on all potential sniper hides is part of treasury guidelines?”

Skuratova’s eyelids were twitching, a sign of holding in considerable anger. “There were approximately fifteen thousand potential sniper locations within standard sniper rifle range of the café. To cover them all would have required each personal detail to have the manpower of a Solar Auxilia Cohort.” Her tone was wearing thin, anger tinging her voice. “I’m sure having that many heavily armed men and women tailing each of the Primarch’s daughters would be unobtrusive and not obstruct the goings-on of regular society…”

Before anything further could happen, Malcador help up his hand. Instantly Quadriga felt a chill of psychic energy and everyone was instantly struck dumb. “My apologies for such a drastic step,” Malcador said softly, “But this is not the time and the place to nitpick. An inquiry is already being set up and it will examine all the evidence. And then, and only then, will we know where the fault really lies. What we need to know is what needs to happen over the next few hours, days and weeks.”

The chill vanished and everyone suddenly slumped in their seats. Everyone, that was, except the only two immune to such psychic effects. Skuratova certainly looked like all the exhaustion of the day had suddenly caught up with her and Quadriga in that split second decided he needed to give her a chance to collect herself. She was not being treated fairly for something he knew she was taking extremely personally. And he had his own ideas that needed to be shared.

“If I may speak?”

“We recognise Aurox Quadriga, Shield Captain of the Ten Thousand.” Malcador announced.

Quadriga nodded and took to his feet. “The Director-General and I have already conferred, and we both agree that urgent steps need to be taken, at least in the short term. We intend to dramatically increase our security measures.”

Now it was time to drop the big decision he and Skuratova had made on the trip over. “For at least the next few days, we have agreed that we will make a joint recommendation to the Captain-General and the other members of the Council that members of the Ten Thousand be assigned on the basis of a single Custodian to each security team. Their task shall be to advise, act as a threat deterrence, and show the masses that we are taking the current situation as seriously as it deserves.”

“Would this be possible, Captain-General?” Malcador turned to Valdor.

Valdor didn’t hesitate. “Certainly, though this can only be a temporary measure. We are not entirely effective at providing the low-key security the Treasury has specialized in and that the Royal Daughters are accustomed to.”

“The wishes of the Daughters can be safely put on hold, at least until more permanent measures can be implemented.” Malcador stated flatly. “Do the other members of the Council agree with Captain Quadriga’s proposal?”

One by one the hands went up. There was both relief and doubt on Skuratovas face as her own hand joined them. Quadriga knew it must have sat ill with her, giving Treasury authority over to members of the Ten Thousand.

“So it is commanded.” Malcador’s words were loaded with finality. “Captain-General Valdor, I leave it to you to find the best way to implement this.”

Valdor nodded. “The Shield-Captain and I will begin making all the necessary arrangements and selecting the best candidates from within the ranks of the Ten Thousand starting tomorrow.”

“As you said,” the Lord Commander Militant interjected, “this can only be a temporary measure. What are we going to do in the long term?”

“What we will not do,” Skuratova said firmly, “is lock those young ladies up in a gilded cage. The Treasury exists to give them the maximum amount of freedom possible while still maintaining for them protection equal to their status. That freedom is something they need in order to get the most out of everything on offer for them.”

“Letting these ‘girls’ run riot has already got you and those under your command into a number of needless scrapes.” The Lord Commander Militant sneered. “They should have been raised with military discipline, the discipline their fathers used to conquer this galaxy. Frankly, from what I’ve seen I find it very hard to reconcile that these troublesome girls are in fact the Daughters of the mighty Primarchs.”

For the first time Quadriga found himself in complete agreement with the Lord Commander Militant. He had fought alongside the Primarchs during the Crusade, and during his early years often mentally tried to compare those kids with their fathers. He had been swiftly disabused of that notion. While there were clear echoes of the Primarchs in the Daughters, by and large the young women were very different entities from the posthuman monsters that they had been made from.

“The Emperor made the Daughters the way they are, and I’m sure you are not questioning the Emperor’s will?” Malcador said, a winter chill in his voice. 

The Lord Commander Militant flinched and swiftly belted out, “Of course not, Lord Malcador. But I feel that they could stand to learn more of the discipline and will of their fathers. It would certainly help us at our job.” That last comment was aimed at Skuratova, who simply shot a glare back.

“Well, when this meeting is done, maybe we can ask the Daughters to act a bit more cautiously with regards to their need for security.” The Lord Provost Marshal said good-naturedly.

“I think we’re straying from the task at hand.” Valdor warned.

“Indeed.” Malcador replied.