Little 40k universe story thing.

[Jayce Iredell]

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.

[Jayce Iredell]

More writefaggotry to carry on from my previous post, continuing the story:

The pot of civility on the planet Ephesia boiled over, in a single night the targeted assassinations of the head of each noble house, and the ruling council of nobility. It would boil from the underhives and upward, with mutants and gangers leading the way.

The middle class sandwiched between them and the nobility in the upper hive levels became the buffer, and would bear the brunt of the anarchy that came forth.

Frank was on his way home from another relentless day working a press in a manufactorium that churned out metal tools for construction and repair. His mechanicus supervisor was tool himself so Frank thought which was fitting; he smiled to himself as the lanes of workers passed each other. The noise of the masses marching and the sound of activity where workers went to their homes, or local liquor dispensing establishments it almost drowned out the yelling and screams.

He turned his head toward the east; the lifts to the lower levels were, as well as the bending exit ramps for motor traffic. Tires screeched in the distance a kilometer down that way, all lights on the roadways turned red, and began to blink. More tires screeched and the sounds of crunching metal, polymers and breaking glass; the masses turned into a flood of human bodies. A cacophony of screaming rose to a deafening chorus on the hive level, as the masses flowed west toward Frank.

Gulping hard he thumbed his palm gently and tried to peer at the scene more than 800 meters away, illuminated now by a burning automobile that had been over turned. He easily recognized gangers, the arbites had long held propaganda campaigns and posted rewards to bring the tattooed and tatter clothed Hessians to justice. He got shoved into a pillar by the flow of people, his eyes glimpsing even more; counting up hundreds of gangers and, by the Emperor he could see mutants.

Bottles filled with promethium and rags stuffed down the necks and flaming began to rain into the rushing mob. People screamed as they got engulfed fully or were burned from the proximity; broken glass lacerated nearby persons as the bottles burst to unleash their flaming deathblow. The crowd with frank in it rushed at a hurried pace for safety in all direction, the primary mass following the main roads.

Frank’s life had been a fourteen hour shift everyday for nearly thirty five years, his children worked the factories now too with him in different sectors. Now the battered middle aged man was part of a throng of every sort of person save nobility; this mass was mixing with mutants and gangers alike. The course was heading dead for what Frank could easily tell was a wall of possibly hundreds of matte black dressed and riot ready Arbites. Emperor save their souls he thought, this mob was easily into the thousands and upon reaching the line of solid black; the baton blows and shield bashing began.

Drowning in the sea of anarchy the officers were no match for the river of disorder, soon beginning to drown in its chaotic wake. Stolen shields and batons of those Arbites who had been beaten down and stripper were now being used against their comrades. The screaming and noise of violence didn’t drown out the report of a Autogun, followed by more of the same. The Arbites responded with their shotguns and the crowds only grew louder and wilder as those who tried to flee continued to be pushed toward the exchange; Frank among them, didn’t see the Arbites officer standing near him now.

He turned in time to see the man’s eyes dilated with anxious fear for his life before the standard pattern shotgun was lifted at Frank, or whoever was around him, as he got shoved toward the officer. The man’s finger squeezed the trigger to no avail as it jammed; which made him reach for his riot baton. Frank had little time to raise his arms to try and stop the blow and explain his innocence but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Frank’s scalp split as his skull fractured, his knees failed him and he fell to the concrete; the mobs tripping and beginning to trample his fallen form. He whispered a silent prayer as the bodies poured over him feet trampling on him. Counting the people Frank could tell there were mutants and gangers about every third to fifth person. His body ached and his head bleeding from a hanging piece of scalp, with bits of skull stuck to it with blood.

Somehow he managed to drag himself to a nearby lamp post where he sat up; eye blurry and red with his own blood he watched as the ranks of Arbites were overrun and turned to flee.

It was futile to run Frank thought; civil order was no more and even the good workers of the middle hive would not reason logically now that their lives were in jeopardy. For as long as Frank could recall the mutants and gangers that flowed past his dimming vision had been kept down and often hunted by the Arbites of the planet. Now the tide of vengeance had flowed in he thought; it made him laugh weakly at the irony of how their successfully violent campaigns of justice had turned back on them.

He could smell the fires now as the rioter began to loot and burn everything in sight, Frank even felt people going through his pockets even while he still yet lived. The instinct to survive had turned into an every man for himself scenario; warehouses and shops were being smashed into or overrun; he blinked his blurred eyes. Emperor take his soul; he prayed silently, Emperor keep his family safe, whether or not the prayer would be answered became unknown to him as his world finally went black.