Agoria. Federation Capital world. Nighttime.
‘Kira Coriolanous of the House Coriolanous, sobriquet: Red Princess, age: 21, accreditation: Rogue Trader [foreign title/unrecognised] and master of the Terra’s Stride, displacement: sprint frigate/Galleon-class, archeotech primary asset, allegiance: Imperialis Terranis – Hostile Maximus, you stand here in our custody, representing yourself, your villainous weapon master and surviving two score accomplices, as you face accusations of…’ the high-judge paused for a moment, preparing himself. In the entire history of Agoria’s High Court, never have such accusations, both in scope and count, been voiced. Taking a breath, he began.
‘Wanton acts of piracy, pillage and murder, seventeen thousand counts.’
Kira stood alone in the centre of the great auditorium, a beautiful Terran highborn. She glared arrogantly into the packed audience tiers as her extensive list of crimes was listed. They had confiscated her father’s ancient power sabre and her master-crafted las-pistols after the last skirmish. They let her keep the ring, though, even in custody. Highborn courteousness, maybe. Her gloved hands cuffed before her; the signet of House Coriolanous gleamed distinctively on a long finger.
‘Kidnap, extortion and ransom, three thousand and forty-two counts.’
It had been a good scrap in the end, she thought ruefully as the judge kept reading out the charges. Her exquisite crimson long coat was ruffled and torn. The fine fabric, trimmed in gold that matched her long hair, was bloodstained from the fight. The high collars were shaped like the heads of imperial eagles, framing Kira’s beautiful and bruised face. There was a swell to the side of her smirking lips, and one blue eye was already darkening nicely. My retaliatory strike had been better, though, she reflected with a measure of satisfaction. Right through the guard’s own eyeball. A kill stab.
‘Acts of torture with intent to extract information, two thousand four hundred and two counts.’
She stood feet apart with a practised fighter’s readiness, hatefully amused by her accusers. Sitting alongside the high-judge were the planetary nobility. The ruling heads of the various continents and states. The bereaved, she smirked and then winced from the pain. Feeling around the inside of her sore jaw, she could tell one of her teeth was loose. She prodded it with her tongue, not really listening.
‘Breaching the capitol chambers of the planetary council of nobles Agoria Vertiga with intent to render harm and/or to take the life thereof.’
The high-judge paused and gazed at her. ‘That concludes just the war crime accusations. Does the accused have anything to say before we move on to the state crimes and planetary atrocities?’
Kira stared at the high-judge in silence for a moment as if in thought, but really, she was just tonguing free the loose tooth. After fumbling with it in her mouth, she spat it on the priceless floor in a bloody wad, unblinking eyes never leaving the high-judge’s face.
‘So noted for the record,’ said the high-judge and continued.
‘Upon breaching the capitol, you and your bandits proceeded to assassinate fifteen Auron Guards, at which point you were discovered, an alert was sounded, and open battle joined. At this time, you and your retinue of bandits murdered no less than three hundred and seventy-four Auron Guards as part of your failed exfiltration attempt, twenty-nine by your hand alone, apparently. This is a state crime with the penalty of—’
Kira cut in, ‘They fought well, I’ll give you that much.’
Her voice carried through the auditorium like a harmony.
‘They were all firstborn sons of the nobility,’ spat one of the shadowed highborn, chin quivering with suppressed rage. ‘Serving the Auron Guard is a noble’s privilege!’
Kira cocked her head to regard the speaking shadow as he decried her.
‘You murdered them! All as part of your insane attempt on all our lives! You foreign invader, you come to our realm with your mayhem…’
It’s called “a battle”, thought Kira as the highborn raged at her. They could’ve killed me just as easily, had they the skill. Besides, rejecting the High Lords’ envoys is a fool’s move, as anyone would tell you. What did you think was going to happen? Shaking her head, she said nothing, letting him rant until the judge cut in and resumed speaking.
‘…carries the penalty of death by chem-asphyxiation,’ finished the high-judge, unfazed by the interruption. He continued.
‘Now onto atrocities, first charge: the intentional targeting and extermination of three of our colonies magena, casta, holistis, via rad—’
There was uproar from the audience now.
It took great daring and guile to overcome the planetary defences, fumed Kira as the high-judge kept reading. Do these fringe-dwelling peasants have no regard for skill at arms? In an effort to allay her rising choler, she reminded herself what she stood to gain. A full pardon for her family’s ancient defiance. An end to millennia of exile. The planetary fief of Pluto and a place at the Terran court. If only you knew, she mused balefully, as the judge continued listing her crimes, the terrible things that I would do to get that which I have been promised.
‘In short,’ the high-judge came to his summary. ‘You blunder into Federation space with one frigate, engage in acts of piracy across our shipping lanes, kidnap and pillage our fringe worlds, before wiping out entire colonies.’ Pausing before continuing. ‘Then, with our fleet closing in, you arrive at our capitol and personally lead a raid in an attempt to execute our leaders and nobles, wherein you are finally apprehended, but not without great loss of life. What, in all the void, were you hoping to achieve?’
Kira sneered bloodily before responding. ‘It’s called a decapitation strike, my lords. Hit your outlying worlds to draw out your fleet, and then hit your defenceless capital. Basic military tactics, really.’
‘Decapitation strike!’ Outrage and mockery rained down on her from the nobles and audience tiers.
‘You have one small ship,’ began one of the highborn, checking off a list on his gloved fingers. ‘Maybe a thousand cutthroats, no armour, against our entire planetary defence grid and millions of men under arms. Not even counting the fleet rushing back to the capitol as we speak. Your entire campaign hinged on hit-and-run among the margins, and once you trapped yourself here, at our heart, you were done.’
Kira drew herself to her full height. Despite having to crane her neck up at the tiered seating, it still seemed as if she was glaring down at them.
‘Firstly,’ she began, as though speaking to a child, ‘your condescending tone directed at my military approach is misplaced. You have already listed many of my perfectly fine tactical accomplishments, by the thousands no less, all as part of your tiresome accusations.’
‘Secondly, I came this close to liquidating your leadership myself,’ she held gloved thumb and forefinger close together, her other cuffed hand dragged along, swinging limply. ‘And I’m just the diversion part of The Plan. Imagine what my, let’s say, “associates” will do to you when they arrive, hmm?’
At that comment, some of the nobles exchanged concerned glances.
‘And finally,’ continued Kira calmly, ‘to answer your question in full: even bound like this, I can probably kill at least two of your nobles right here, before your guards even manage to subdue me…’
Appalled gasps.
‘…as for the rest of you, your nobles, your planetary defences, and your millions of men under arms, blah blah blah, well, it won’t be much longer now. Not long at all. The High Lords of Terra will not be denied.’
Offended mutterings reigned through the chamber. Kira smiled in cold triumph.
‘Enough!’ The high-judge said, ending the clamour and speaking to the accused directly in a rote tone.
‘As is custom, do you have any last words for the record, Kira Coriolanous of the House Coriolanous, before I proceed to formal sentencing and the carrying out of your execution?’
Kira stood tall, glaring imperiously into the tiers and began to speak, a note of formality in her voice,
‘High-judge, lords and ladies of Agoria, worthy emissaries of Federation worlds, let me now explain to you all what is actually going to happen here…’
Murder-one-one, company commander, led his kill-team through the fortifications ringing the vast Hall of Justice. It rose like a great shell, an architectural marvel, above the glittering skyline of the Agorian capital.
Gene-wrought, sheathed in matte black power armour and chameleon cloaks, the shrouded Space Marines moved swiftly and unseen. Already, there was plenty of killing. Knife work, mostly. Throats sliced, vaunted Auron Guard tumbled like sacks of meat. Dead instantly.
One guard casually strolled out of a side stairwell, off-duty, stumbling onto the kill-team mid-slaughter. The commander was unfazed. He whipped an armoured hand faster than the baseline human could blink, clutching the guard’s helmeted head in a vice grip. With a flex of silent servos, he crushed metal, meat and bone.
Holding the limp corpse, brain and eyeballs oozing between his armoured fingers, he paused, turning his helmet sensors to watch the giant projection of Kira giving her final statement. Due to the enormity of her crimes, the Agorian courts had decided to publicly broadcast ‘The Trial and Execution of The Imperial Bandit Known As The Red Princess.’ It was being viewed simultaneously across homes and on public holo-vids in real time. A projection of Kira towered above the city at her most imperious and pompous.
The original plan had called for Kira’s frigate, Terra’s Stride, to hold the planetary defence forces attention in low orbit, a mere distraction, while the commander led his company to the surface to complete the Order of Castigation. Thus, they would’ve concluded their campaign against the seditionists. However, much to the commander’s amusement, the Red Princess had her own way of doing things…
Orbiting Rigga. Federation Border World. Eight months earlier.
Kira strode through the shadowed hallways of her frigate, crew members making their respects, knuckle to forehead, and scrambling aside at her swift passing. Entering the primary cargo chambers, she was furious to discover that her associates on this new venture were holding counsel without her.
The vaulted space was ordinarily used to haul cargo but was now a hive of activity. Repurposed by the Space Marines, it had become a makeshift command centre, chapter serfs going about their tasks in the busy space. Uniformed in their black body gloves, some manned cogitator stations, thick screens glowing. Others toiled over the massive weaponry and armour of their post-human masters, making final preparations for the upcoming action.
A holo-projector had been set up to dominate the vast space, the towering Astartes gathered around it in discussion. Carefully stepping between the thick, snaking cables with her booted feet, Kira made her way to the council and squeezed in among them, a feminine, red-coated shape amidst towering, armoured brutes. No one acknowledged her presence. They merely kept talking, their grim voices inhumanely deep.
Looking at the giants, Kira took note of their arms and armour, the sheer scale and savage form of the weaponry. Trained to brawl, kill and minuet alongside her long-dead brothers by a merciless father, Kira was a competent fighter herself. But these beings were something else entirely. The finest killers in the galaxy. She couldn’t wait to see them in action. Her mood began to improve. As the briefing continued, she noticed a small detail in the information being projected and spoke up.
‘They are duellists here.’
Coughing into a red-gloved fist, she repeated herself, ‘I said they’re duellists. They avoid costly wars on this world by having pistol duels with nominated champions. I can handle this operation myself, gentlemen.’
Proudly craning her neck to receive their positive agreement with her brave plan, she was furious to find that she may as well have not spoken at all. The armoured giants continued their briefing as if she wasn’t there. Settling into a simmering rage, her face set hard as stone, she began to imagine ways to murder everyone in the chamber. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she realised the giants were suddenly all looking at her. Startled, she looked from one slab-jawed brute to another. Then, one of them spoke, rumbling like a volcano.
‘I repeat, Princess, you will hold position in orbit and act as our fallback, plus provide any orbital firepower, if needed. Can you handle that?’
I could handle that when I was ten, fumed Kira. Is that why I’m here? To just “hold position in orbit” and risk the High Lords decrying me? They will just say I failed to live up to my side of the agreement. Unacceptable!
Instead, she said, her tone sweet and obedient, ‘Of course, my lord, not a problem.’
The council adjourned; Kira stormed out of the chamber and opened a private vox link to her weapon master.
‘Solus, meet me at my shuttle now!’
Fifteen minutes before Murder company commenced their assault, Kira walked down the lowering ramp of her personal shuttle and onto the stonework of the planetary landing platform. Red-frocked, with tall black boots, she stopped in the shadow of her vessel, the craft still smoking from orbital descent. Her weapon master followed behind, bearing the Coriolanous standard. The planetary rulers had acknowledged her request for trial by combat and had gathered to meet her as per protocol.
Kira drew back her crimson coat, revealing twinned las-pistols in a custom quickdraw rig and gave the ritual challenge in person, as required by the local custom. The nobles responded in kind and the crowd began to part, allowing for their appointed champion to make his way through the press and face her. The murmurings of the crowd reached her ears as she waited.
‘So that’s the famous “Red Princess”…’
‘…you mean “monstrous,” surely…’
‘…so beautiful, but her deeds…such horror…’
‘…a damn pirate…’
‘They’re called “Rogue Traders,” dear. They have legal paperwork and special rights…’
‘Bah, she’s just a bandit!’
Finally, the local champion strode out from the crowd to face her. He wore a frock of fine local make and a tricorn hat tilted at an angle. A polished las-lock pistol glittered in a beautiful and well-used rig.
Kira took one glance, drew her right-hand las-pistol and shot him in the face.
The champion had not even cleared his holster.
In the stunned silence that followed, she spun her smoking pistol expertly on a gloved finger and re-holstered it with a practised motion. Without a word, she turned on her heel and strode back up the shuttle ramp. Her weapon master sneered at the defeated crowd and turned to follow his princess.
Minutes later, Kira’s shuttle was airborne, and Murder company descended in force. The township was rapidly annihilated, all inhabitants put to the sword. The commander strode through the wreckage, somewhat puzzled.
Why didn’t they fight? It seemed like they had stood down just before the attack. What happened here?
He had his answer minutes later, finding his kill-leaders gathered around a body on the landing platform. The commander took one look at the perfect headshot and grunted in amusement. One of his lieutenants turned his helmeted head to regard the commander.
‘Seems the Red Princess has some bite to go with her bark, eh.’
Agoria. Federation Capital world. Nighttime.
Now, cutting throats in the shadow of Kira’s towering holo-projection, the commander thought about his primary objective. Yes, the High Lords had petitioned the chapter to intercede and bring the Federation back into the fold without a sector-wide conflict. A task eminently suited to their particular set of skills. But that was a distant secondary objective when compared to his true task, charged by the Chapter Master personally.
‘…only those with steel coursing through their veins are worthy, commander. You will make the final determination on this campaign…’
The commander understood, of course. His chapter was fastidious with only using the finest human stock for their precious geneseed. He thought about the Coriolanous bloodline, fallen on hard times. Father and sons caught on the wrong side of an Inquisitorial purge, all dead. Kira was all that remained of the once-great dynasty. Spared the pyre, but not the disgrace, she lingered on the margins of imperial society, skirting the fine line between privateer and outright pirate.
She puts so much faith in the bargain struck with the High Lords, mused the commander, leading his armoured killers across the battlements, the campaign reaching its inevitable conclusion. She imagines returning to Terra, a conquering hero held in the highest regard.
Cutting another throat, the commander savoured the blood spray, thinking about his crucial primary objective. She will need to be disabused of such silly ambitions, he mused, continuing his silent killings.
The overwatch signalled on the secure vox. Explosives in place, overwatch in position. The commander acknowledged and ordered all kill-teams forward. There was a golden scroll at his belt, inset with the sigil of the Senatorum Imperialis and this night, he intended to fulfil all of his objectives.
The killing continued unabated across the battlements. They killed quickly, quietly, and cleanly, littering the floor with strewn corpses. In the background, Kira continued her peremptory monologue.
‘The Great Lords of Terra, The High Lords themselves, are undisputed masters of this galaxy. If you look up and see the stars, then know thou art within thine domain! All contained within, bend the knee…’
Murder-two-one predatorily watched the tiered plaza leading to the Hall of Justice and the grand entrance through the scope of his stalker-bolter. His overwatch team had snuck onto the towers, knifing the sentries. They now used the vantage to provide real-time intelligence for the rest of the company as the kill-teams methodically got into position. Through the scope, he could see serried ranks of Auron Guard, lasrifles shouldered, filling the open square. Several light vehicles, complete with gunners, were scattered through the gathering—some locally made 4-wheelers, light stuff designed for urban combat. A multi-company, combined arms defence, he mused. This would be a solid scrap.
It makes sense given the historic trial, thought Murder-two-one, Kira’s authoritarian tone drifting in at the corners of his focus. Her projected image was speaking to the entire city skyline. The kill-leader shared the commander’s amusement with the Red Princess even as her antics had managed to get her properly captured this time. At least her efforts have corralled all of our targets in one location, he thought. But she calculatingly misinterpreted the commander’s orders in order to do so, and not for the first time on this campaign…
Opal Secundus. Federation Inner World. Three months earlier.
Kira ran through burning hallways chased by lasfire.
‘Respond, Solus, damn your ears!’
There was nothing but static over the vox link. Her weapon master was either dead or too busy fighting to respond. Pausing to empty the last of her clips into several local defence troops trying to rush her, she kept running, smoking pistol in each gloved hand.
‘Your task is simple, Princess,’ the grim commander had explained several months into the campaign. ‘Deploy a sortie and disable the city’s shields. The company will do the rest.’
Kira had sneered inwardly at the instructions. Far too easy, Commander. Not only will I disable the shields, but I will take down the primary targets myself! Think how impressed the High Lords will be when they hear that not only has our campaign against the seditionists succeeded in record time, but that the mighty “Red Princess” was instrumental with each operation. During planetary descent, Kira had grinned.
She wasn’t smiling now. Frantically turning a corner in the gunfire, Kira skidded to a halt and sharply threw herself backwards. A line of kneeling local troopers had been waiting and unleashed dazzling las volleys. Panelled woodwork exploded and burned, marble pillars perforated in the heavy fire, filling the air with a mist of vaporised masonry. Kira crawled through the raining debris, cursing. Everything had gone well; the shields were down, but then she had gotten cut off and was now running for her life. Damn! Damn! Damn!
The shooting stopped, and in the smoke-wreathed hallway, Kira dragged herself into a sitting position, back against a bullet-pocketed wall. She heard an officer preparing his troopers to advance and clear. Her las-pistols were drained. Patting the bandoliers strung diagonally under her crimson longcoat, she discovered that she was out of ammunition completely. With a curse, she re-holstered her pistols and drew her father’s ancient sabre. This won’t be much use against guns at range, she thought as she glanced around the hallway, squinting in the smoke. I need a bottleneck.
The commander wiped sheets of blood from his broad combat knife before re-sheathing it in a chest holster. The gesture was sharp and well-practiced. He was standing knee-deep in corpses, shattered fortifications stretching around him, all that remained of a mighty curtain wall. Once the city shield collapsed, Murder company descended and annihilated the primary targets as per his orders. Now, the fields around the burning city were staked with the crucified population. It made for quite the sight and sounds.
Message duly delivered, my noble High Lords, he thought as he watched the grisly work of his company. Everything had gone smoothly, as he expected. Well, almost everything.
A baseline human ran up to him along the broken wall. He was wearing the crimson sash of Kira’s House Guard. The commander recognised him as the ‘Weapon Master’, but he ignored the stumbling and wounded figure completely.
‘Commander! T-there…you are.’ The man was panting, out of breath.
‘We have to go back. The princess has been cut off. Trapped in one of the palace wings and—’
‘Our task here is done,’ the commander said with disinterest. ‘We depart at sunrise, as per my orders.’ As expected, the ambitious brat disregarded my instructions, thought the commander with grim amusement. Now, we will see if that ambition exceeds her ability.
‘Y-you’re going to leave her behind?’ Solus was stunned. But the giant didn’t feel like explaining himself and was already striding away.
A heavy double door crashed open in response to Kira’s boot. Scrambling inside, she shut and resealed the doors. Trapped. Frantically glancing around, she collapsed a table across the doorway, further blocking the entrance. On the other side, she could hear the soldiers hammering.
The door began to slowly open, pushing the fallen desk in with it.
Kira activated her father’s ancient sabre. It hummed, glowing like a sapphire. As the hammering continued, she drew her last-ditch blade from a hidden wrist holster and clutched it in her other hand, assuming the ready stance.
The door bulged inwards. With a final combined push, the troopers crashed the door open and surrounded the occupant, bayonets pointing at her crimson form. The notorious Red Princess. Finally, they would see justice done by stringing up this reaving bandit. The men were hesitant, well aware of her reputation, but they had the advantage of numbers. As one, they closed in.
With a fierce expression on her beautiful and bloodstained face, Kira charged. She screamed the ancient Coriolanous maxim, ‘To the death!’
‘You’re not leaving without her, and that’s final,’ declared Solus at the back of the towering Space Marine as they boarded one of the Thunderhawk gunships at sunrise. The giant paused and slowly turned to face the weapon master, his posture conveying the error of trying to take such a tone with a space marine.
Solus suddenly realised how very small he was compared to the power-armoured giant. His eyes widened, and he found himself sweating profusely, thick beads rolling down his face. As the giant approached him, Solus swallowed, deciding that he was probably about to die.
There was the sound of limping footsteps on the ramp, and a shadow fell across the confrontation. The space marine lifted his helmed head to regard the newcomer. Solus turned and squinted, seeing nothing but a silhouette in the sunrise. The shape took several more agonising steps, and Solus gasped.
‘Kira!’ All formality momentarily washed away as sheer relief flooded the weapon master.
She was coated in gore, her beautiful blue eyes startling among the dripping red. Her father’s ancient sabre in one hand, a dagger in the other, she limped onto the Thunderhawk gunship. Priceless coat and frock ripped, bleeding from countless wounds, she was barely standing. Solus spied a broken bayonet protruding from one of her shoulder blades.
Breathing heavily, she hissed, ‘And where, may I ask, are you all going?’
Solus was about to cry out, appalled at any suggestion of abandoning her, but the armoured giant spoke first, his voice monstrous in the enclosed space. ‘Princess, you’re late.’
Agoria. Federation Capital world. Nighttime.
Now, watching the Auron Guard through his scope, murder-two-one heard the commander give the final stand-by order over the company vox. He wondered if the Red Princess would survive the violence to come. Or would the company ultimately fail in their primary objective? In the background, Kira’s projection continued to speak.
‘The High Lords countenance no refusal nor insubordination. They tolerate no word other than that of their own. Now, it’s true that the High Lords are masters of inexhaustible armies, employing servants glorious and terrifying beyond counting. But they reserve the cards that they choose to play…’
Watching the assembled defences at ground level, the company commander was mightily impressed. Armoured body pressed to one of the towering pillars encircling the approaches; he was just a shimmer in the night. His brothers were spread around the pillars, similarly concealed. Multiple kill-teams had methodically encircled the area, unseen and unheard.
Deadly eyes narrowed behind his visor; the commander studied the enemy’s defence with an expert curiosity. They looked to be a professional and well-equipped fighting force, numbering in the hundreds. Outnumbering murder five to one. He took a moment to imagine them all lying dead, broken bodies torn and piled high, the entire scene lit by burning vehicles. Not long now, he assured himself.
Growling in combat-cant across the link, he ordered his encircling kill-teams, laying out his expectations for the imminent action. Their curt responses told him everything he needed to know. They were ready. He sheathed the combat knife and swung his giant bolter in an armoured grip. It was one of his most favoured instruments. With a well-rehearsed motion, he slid his beloved chain-bayonet attachment beneath the barrel. The rest of the kill-teams made similar final preparations.
Eager for the violence to come, the commander gave the attack code in the customary high gothic. ‘Incipit est!’
‘It begins!’
‘Why send armies when a company of Astartes is available nearby? A small frigate to bear them. A treacherous realm will not be honoured with open warfare. Instead, the subtle art of perfidy is only fitting…’
Deep within the capital’s primary power annexe, the explosives placed by the overwatch team detonated. For a brief moment, there was a sunrise in the middle of the city; then, as one, the city lights went out.
‘And now a decision is laid before you all: will you bend the knee, or—’
As the lights died all across the capitol, Kira’s towering holo-projection vanished mid-sentence. Turmoil gripped the assembled Auron Guard, but only for a brief moment. A brutal war cry rent the air, like a savage roar. It was a single word carried by post-human throats, thundering on in an impossible single breath, chilling the gathered defenders. It was the eternal promise made by all apex predators to their prey.
‘Murder!’
Then, the black night erupted with the roar of bolters and the shriek of plasma cannons.
The assembled Auron Guard died screaming.
In the sudden darkness of the court chambers, no one could see Kira’s smug grin. All going according to plan, she thought. Well, with some minor improvements on my part, if I do say so myself. I must make a pict-record of the carnage when done here. I will have a painting commissioned to commemorate and hang it in my palatial estates on Pluto.
The Auron Guard encircling the chamber had switched on handheld light devices, the high-judge gavelled for order, but still, the concerned murmuring of the gathered nobles filled the chamber like a lament. Pages were sent scurrying from the chamber for news. Then, the sounds of total warfare from outside began to drift in, explosions causing cries of alarm and whimpers of fear. A particularly large blast shook the entire chamber. Fine trickles of dust fell onto them from the distant ceiling supports.
One of the nobles was staring hatefully at Kira.
‘What have you done now, Red Princess? What new atrocity is this?’
Kira was about to reply when the main doors exploded inwards, and Murder company took the chamber by storm. Emerald targeting lasers glittered through the smoke-wash of their entrance, bolters roared, and the last of the auron guard exploded messily across the chamber. Pages and nobles alike shrieked as gore rained across them, the sounds of the explosive weaponry overwhelming the auditory faculty of unaugmented humans.
Kira had a crazed smile on her face as blood rained across her from all sides. I’ve done it, she thought. Power and fortune will be mine once more!
In moments, the chamber was secure, the surviving nobles and their aides huddling in the tiered seating, targeting beams dancing across their forms as the battle-brothers corralled them with sharp, barbaric commands.
The company commander strode to stand beside Kira, towering over the young Rogue Trader, enormous bolter held across his chest. The weapon’s barrel was smoking, and the chain-bayonet purred, drooling blood onto the floor. The space marine was coated in gore, thick droplets splattering across the priceless tiles. The flooring itself was cracked and pitted by the sudden carnage. He reeked of the battlefield such that even Kira gagged in his shadow.
Dropping his giant weapon to hang from a thick chain, the commander produced the golden scroll from his belt and held it high for all to see. Then he spoke, his inhumanely deep voice grating horrifyingly through his helmet vox, paralysing the nobles with absolute terror.
‘Treacherous vassals, I hold here the Decree of Castigation for your dereliction of duty to the Golden Throne and the Senatorum Imperialis. Take heed of the High Lord’s judgment in the ruin we leave in our wake. Carefully attend to the High Lord’s mercy, that you may yet live to serve once more.’ He paused, slowly swivelling his helmeted head across the trembling assemblage, like a weapon system scanning its targets. ‘Those who do not now submit will be liquidated. Perhaps your next of kin will prove wiser. Now, decide.’
No one moved. Terrified silence reigned.
Kira wanted to gloat, but before she could say a word, the commander reached up with his other hand and removed his helmet. There was a click hiss at the release of the armour’s internal atmosphere, revealing a shaven-headed and slab-jawed brute.
That did it. There were cries of alarm and murmurs of horror. One of the nobles, a matronly woman near the front tiers, collapsed in a faint. A page was sick, utterly broken by the sight of the commander’s murderous visage. Then, almost as one, the nobles fell to their knees, averting their gaze from the terrifying giant as they submitted.
Casually throwing the golden scroll to Kira, who caught it awkwardly in her cuffed hands, the commander turned and strode from the smouldering chamber. As he moved, he growled the customary high gothic at the successful conclusion of an undertaking, ‘Factum est!’
It is done!
Kira watched him walk away for a moment, ruffled and rebuffed, then turned back to the kneeling nobility. Eyes narrowed, she glared at the prostrate forms hatefully. Leave me to do the paperwork like I’m some Administratum clerk!
She held up her cuffed hands in the firelight illuminating the chamber.
‘Someone get these bindings off me before I have you all skinned alive!’
Terra’s Stride. Deep in the Warp. En route, Eastern Fringes.
‘We had an agreement, Commander,’ Kira was struggling to both control her temper and jog to keep up with the giant striding space marine. It was a week later. They were walking through the gloom aboard her frigate as it sped through the turbulent warp.
‘Nothing has changed,’ came the toneless response. The commander was staring straight ahead as he walked, helmet clamped under one arm.
‘I was promised an end to my family’s ancient exile, a full pardon, the Pluto fief and a place at court.’ She was listing these off on her gloved fingers as she stumbled to keep up. ‘Now you say we’re heading further east?’
‘Hmm, yes, there’s much more warfare to be had, princess, much killing. We are well supplied, and we will keep going.’
‘But what about me?’ Kira hissed through clenched teeth, ‘I want what was promised.’
‘And you’ll have it.’
‘When?’
‘The journey to the Throneworld will take years, Princess. There will be many skirmishes along the way.’
He’s lying, she fumed. But why?
‘That wasn’t our agreement,’ Kira snarled. ‘I’ll have a mutiny on my hands!’
At that, the commander paused, and Kira skidded to a stop, resting palms on knees to catch her breath.
The towering Astartes regarded the red-frocked figure coldly. ‘Yes, you will have to fight harder than ever, Princess.’ Kira slowly turned to glare up at him. His eyes were narrowed, as if he was taking the measure of her. Finally, he said, ‘I hope you make it.’
Then he turned away and kept walking, rapidly leaving her behind in the hallway.
She glared after his receding form, gloved hands balled into fists, mind racing at her new predicament. She thought of her dangerous crew and the promise of plum postings many were expecting as her honour guard at the Terran court. A promise that she could no longer fulfil.
I’m dead meat, she thought grimly.
Then she thought about the loot from Agoria. The holds were full to bursting with precious metals, priceless artworks and whimpering slaves destined for the pleasure districts of the nearest Imperial fief—a real fortune.
Perhaps all is not lost, she mused. If these future “skirmishes” prove to be even half as profitable as this campaign, I’ll be living the high life for a good time yet. And I will have ample opportunity to press the issue again and again until I finally get what was promised!
Her anger began to recede, replaced by a calculating calm.
Yes, this is far from over, commander, she thought, confidence returning. But first, my immediate problem. Once word spreads through the vessel that Terra is not the destination, the knives will come out. I must move quickly!
She opened a vox link to her weapon master.
‘Solus, I want you and a score of your best men to meet me at the armoury, now!’
She turned and began to stride purposefully.
‘We have throats to cut…’
The commander’s enhanced hearing allowed him to catch every word as he moved. A merciless smile cut his grim features. In truth, you’ve impressed us, Princess, thought the commander—a fine little killer.
The grim post-human thinks back to his mission briefing with the Chapter Master.
‘…determine once and for all if the Coriolanous bloodline can still be salvaged for the breeding program. If she proves as fierce as the rest of her line, a suitable partner will be selected…’
Now, traversing the shadowed hallways of Terra’s Stride, the commander thinks he has fulfilled his primary objective.
No Kira, you will never see the Throneworld, he muses. Your petty ambitions mean nothing. I expect your sons will prove to be potent aspirants someday, bringing new strength to the chapter. Until then, you will serve. You’ll be far too busy fighting for your life to worry about anything else.
His murderous eyes gleamed triumphantly.
Our bloody adventures have only just begun.
