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Tell me what you think, and if I ought to continue it or not... Things had taken on an eerie calm that night in Hive City Primaris on the high trafficked trade world of Ephesia. The subsector sitting on the edge between Segmentum Pacificus and Segmentum Ultima meant that it was a chief waypoint for any and all traders contracted and rogue alike. The massive Hive that had been named Primaris spanned an impressive 323km wide in a Caldera on the planet’s northern hemisphere, connected by massive transport arteries that allowed traffic to flow between it and Hives Secundus and Tertius. From those Hives onward traffic flowed to smaller city states and still further into rural areas. Trinkets and items both exotic and rare flowed regularly through her trading ports, massive conveyance vessels constantly rose into the sky and sank down to the ports from orbit much like whales that had become too fat to swim. From time to time xenos traders and other rarer individuals could be found planetside, and there were more than a few places to hide from the many Adeptus Arbites garrisons; one just had to know where to look, and more importantly where not. Due to the constant trade and lucrative supply of raw materials Ephesia was place of industry as well as trade. Production of textiles, vehicles, and when the Mechanicus deemed fit, weapon and war machines, however most production was geared to target the wealthy civilians and little focus went into war. The Ephesian subsector enjoyed the peace and stability offered to her by ever vigilant patrols of the Segmentum Pacificus fleet; wolfpack flotillas of frigates led by battleships plied the lanes that linked the subsector to other worlds making piracy more of a joke to laugh about among the merchant populous. No one had expected it when it began, lower hive workers and underhive gangers storming up from below, as they advanced they added more to their numbers. Arbites Garrisons planet wide were soon stretched to their limits with attempting to control an unruly populace who demanded the cessation of noble rank and the resignation of the planetary governor. A combined force of PDF and Arbites had for weeks battled the unruly upstarts in causeways and trading bazaars beneath the upper hive levels. Curfews were in effect within the three Hives, and none were spared the whip or a beating if they were caught out at night, once more life had returned to a quiet calm. That had all been six weeks ago now, and the planet had returned to a normal pace, or so noted the Governor’s coach driver Drumond. He was a simple man, a tad on the short side and not much to look at, bald save for the sides and back of his head; he adjusted his cap for coverage before opening the door of the automobile. Governor Formosa Chamberlain was head of the nobility council on the planet, as its chief head of state. Each noble house had a seat and power dependant on their influence on the planet’s economics, Chamberlain excelled at it. A pompous and fat sort, who dressed as extravagantly as though he were a nobleman from Holy Terra itself; a long coat that dragged slightly behind him, worn over tunic and trousers. All of it was embroidered with gold, and of hues of royal purples and deep reds, the family crest of the Chamberlain house was put in on every spare bit of fabric that a Lion’s head could fit. Aging as he was Chamberlain kept up with a steady stream of chemical stims to allow his massive aging body to keep going. Walking toward his motorcade with his paired chins held high, not even acknowledging the salutations offered by his staff aide or Drumond when he moved to sit inside the stretch sedan that would ferry him to his destination. The Motorcade pulled away from the Governor’s estate, paired patrol bikes in the lead; dark dressed Arbites with face concealing visors on their helmets drove at a constant but quick pace once they had accelerated. Followed by a staff car, the Governor’s Sedan, another staff car, and finally two more Arbites on bikes the motorcade continued for some 25 to 30minutes before it pulled in at a walled garrison. Lined up in full dress uniforms on the left and right, with regalia and standards bearers present were the ranks and file of the PDF, selected ones, only about a platoons worth in men. Directly across from them the Arbites had it own Honor Guard posted of equal size, standing at the head of these two lines in the center but side by side was the Head of the PDF Lord General Maximus Antilian and Chief of the Arbites Roman Curth. The former was an old soldier, formerly a guardsman who had proved his worth on some forgotten battlefield and earned a cozy retirement on a world with little to do. He seemed cheerful enough to be there to meet the Governor after his combined efforts with the Arbites had squashed a rebellion! He stood there next to his polar opposite, Roman Curth was every bit a scowling and dark fellow, his sharp boney face was made worse by calculating jet black eyes, it was clear he hated the General, and probably everyone else on the planet. Though upright and alert, Curth seemed every bit capable of remorseless actions simply by his mere presence. Drumond noted this as he pulled into a parking loop off to the side of the parade grounds where two were awaiting the arrival of his liege, though the Governor did things on his own time; and would make anyone wait sometimes days for his arrival. Tonight was different, things seemed to go on schedule like clockwork, it never happened that way before Drumond noted as he stepped out of the driver seat of the sedan and closed the door behind him; walking to the rear of the vehicle he opened the large door for the governor; who in his regal largeness got out followed by his chief of staff. The flanking vehicles disgorged their occupants, a retinue of bodyguards and a few dainty and barely dressed women wearing extravagant jewelry. Flanked now by his bodyguards and staff, the trio of giggling eyecandy not far in the back the group approached the pair of commanders who had waited and prepared for this moment. Drumond noted the gathering seemed perfectly executed, save for the governor’s three favorite lady’s of the night things were going well. He did not bother to listen to the pleasantries of his lord, the peacekeeper and the old General; he was too simple a man to understand such things, he just drove the Sedan where he was told. The Sedan, with its dark canopy, gleaming gold inlay and ivory running boards, he made sure it was spotless, always. Something didn’t seem right though as he looked at the rear left wheel; was that a blinking light from under the vehicle? He could hear a strange humming sound; how could he have been so blind, who or what could this be; the coach driver was not trained to inspect or deal with things like these. He turned to yell to his Lord Chamberlain, but his voice was drowned out by a roar; night became day for several kilometers as the garrison, its occupants and everyone in the courtyard were swallowed in a brilliant white light. Followed only seconds later by a cloud of dust and flame that rose skyward, the entire upper hive would be rocked that night, and stirred into madness; the peace was too good to be true.