Prologue
Aun’El Kri’vus stepped through the irising doorway into a large receiving chamber with a window that looked out over the knife towers and domes of T’au. Dozens of roadways arced across midair, with hundreds of ochre vehicles gliding over the surface, and hundred more drones of varying sizes glided on faint heat hazes between the vast towers of the city. The sun was beginning to rise over the rugged horizon, golden beams stretching out and stroking the sky and ground around it. In the middle of the room was a circular padded seat, upon which sat his father, and Aun’O. His father stood up, his gold and tan robes falling elegantly around his body and using his jewel encrusted symbol of office as a staff to steady himself as he stood up. He looked upon the time worn grey face of his father with the reverence his rank demanded and with pride at being born from the flesh of such a great Aun, but could not help but notice how exhausted he looked.
“My son, I trust you are well.” His father said, his voice husky and sounding slightly strained.
“I am, although you seem to be suffering some kind of ill health.”
“I am merely succumbing to the passing of the seasons. There is nothing more natural. But I did not summon you to discuss my health. You are being sent to perform a task for the Tau’va which requires your skills, Kri’vus.”
“What will my task entail?”
“A Gue’la planet which has been identified by the forces of O’Shaserra. We seek to bring it into the folds of our empire without shedding any blood, Gue’la or Tau.”
“I understand. What manor of resources will I have to command?”
“You will have a small emissary fleet at first. Upon a successful colonisation we will begin to send more resources to assist in your overthrowing of the Gue’la command.”
“Just as I expected.”
“Then I shall inform the Kor that you are ready to proceed on schedule.”
****
Artus walked through the dimly lit corridors of the Imperial Palace, his heavy metal chain of office dragging his exhausted head closer to the ground than normal. He had spent the last three days arguing with the different cartel heads about trade rights and prices of what seemed like every item available on Jarvar. With no one around, he let out a long tired sigh before entering his code into the lock at the side of the heavy security door into his quarters. For five years he had watched the order on the planet he governed slowly crumble, like a child’s sand fortress on a wind-ravaged beach. The door grated open. He had to remember to order a servitor to stop his emperor-damned from squealing every time it opened. He pulled off his royal blue cloak and threw it over one of the overstuffed couches and then undressed and put on his fine silk pyjamas before getting into the enormous four poster bed in the middle of his room. Is it so difficult to try and keep an Imperial planet in order, he thought silently staring at the blood red fabric above his head, there must be an easy way to sort out the rising prices of fuel and the ever increasing demand of vehicles for export despite their extremely limited production capacity and the Ork pirates attacking the cargo vessels carrying the exports. He sighed again and rolled onto his side, closing his eyes and drifting into a tormented sleep.
