[i]Our torments also may in length of time 
Become our elements.[/i]
- Mammon, Paradise Lost  

[b]The Maalik System, in orbit of Cocytus IV, on the bridge of the [i]Imperatrix[/i]-class battleship [i]Demiurge[/i]...[/b]

To the Uninitiated, the bridge would have been almost silent. The gentle hum of rebreathing systems, the muffled rustling of a Perfecti's vestments, the occasional groan of ancient metal as it adjusted to changing gravitic stress, these were the only noises a reprobate would hear. 

To the Initiate, however, to one who'd been Opened to the noosphere, the bridge was a cacophony of sound. The Call to Obeisance rang out loudly along the holy neuro-networks, marking the hour, and commands from Thearchs and Perfecti to the lesser castes zipped along info-cascades in flashes of blue and violet. Mental Castrati filled the neurosphere with hymns to the Immanences, and behind it all, of course, was the constant, low chatter of the [i]Demiurge[/i] itself, an endless stream of esoteric wisdom (or nonsense, depending on one's religious persuasion). Very few, even among the Perfecti, could interpret the ship's augurs and counsels, or could truly understand the wishes of the Immanent Divines. Among the elect, only Arius had communed with them as equals. And Arius was gone.

Some of the Thearchs and Prognosticators had interpreted the Emperor Arius' physical destruction at Archangel as his ascension to full communion with the universe. Others postulated that the apparent defeat was a clever contrivance, and that he was still alive, preparing in secret for his triumphant return and war against the heathen Valyrians.

Magister Kalix thought such speculation foolish, though he was careful to mask his thoughts- as well as the pit of despair growing within him ever since Archangel- from prying minds on the noosphere. 

He swept down the center aisle of the bridge, black and gold raiment billowing out behind him. The glowing crimson slits of his optical appendages flashed as he approached the Altar, sending out the appropriate security codes and indications of pious submission.

[i]*Kalix*[/i] the not-quite-a-voice of the Void Hierophant echoed throughout the noosphere as the Magister approached. The Heirophant sat, if that was the word, behind the bridge's central altar, his flesh-body barely visible amid a tangle of wires and data-feeds rising from his Command Throne like twisting branches from some grotesque robotic tree.

[i]*Exalted Superior*[/i] said Kalix, bowing.

[i]*I am familiar with your wishes, Kalix. It was unnecessary for you to bring your flesh-vessel here*[/i]

[i]*Of course, Exalted One, but my need is urgent. The course we are taking is dangerous*[/i]

[i]*Unseemliness. Your continued questions are unseemly.*

*My prognosticators have corroborated my initial Dissent. Ravenstein will invade Celestine. The current attacks in the Charon Belt are a diversion. You must reinforce the orbital defenses at Celestine, Exalted One. Create a trap for Valyrian arrogance.*

*Displeasure is expressed, Kalix. I have taken the Augurs and already communicated the Immanences' wishes on the matter. My fleet shall reinforce the Charon defenses, the Malebrance and escorts will move to Virgilius, where they can reinforce either Celestine or move to support my operations in the Charon Belt.*

*This is dividing our forces moste dangerously, Exalted One. Ravenstein has contracted with mercenaries and made allies of xenos. We-*

*Your line of query is terminated, Kalix. I will permit no more of this. Celestine is most strongly held and will not fall. I have taken measures to ensure it. Our Anansi sellswords are even now moving to reinforce the garrison fleet. Continue to question me and I shall have you assigned a Penance.*
[/i]

Magister Kalix ceased his data-stream with a bow, turned on his heel, and strode away from the Hierophant's grisly throne. In the dark corners of his mind still closed to the noosphere, he began to plan.

----

[b]The Orbital Fortress Invincible, in orbit of Odros, Valyrian System.... [/b]

[i]After the Briefing...[/i]

Unseen, or at least ignored by most, Vice-Admiral Korwitz stalked through the crowd, having had enough of mass of speculation and socialization. He disliked human contact, and the admirality were still too human for his tastes. There were several pressing issues on his mind, and he intended to speak to Ravenstein of them alone, without a flock chattering of halfwits and courtiers buzzing around the room. The Grand Duke had retired to his solar, the count knew, to tinker with plans and play with numbers. His efficiency was in large part why Korwitz held him in such high esteem.

Korwitz arrived at the entrance to ducal solar, an ornately carved wooden door guarded by two Gn'Mok centurions. A quick request to see the Duke was all it took for him to gain access; he was a frequent visitor to this office, frequently consulting and advising his liege in matters of strategy. Entering the chamber, he could see the Duke at his desk glancing over a pile of data slates, a pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth, trickling bluish smoke. The room resembled a gentleman's study more than a warlord's office, filled with bookcases, mounted trophies of old hunts, and even a bar cart. Behind the duke, a window offered a magificent view of the planet Odros below them, continents blackened and scarred from invasion and counter-invasion during the Jihad. The site of the Grand Duke's greatest victory, one of the bloodiest battles in Valyrian history.

The Vice-Admiral advanced, hearing the heavy doors close behind him. The Grand Duke looked up for a brief moment as he saw Korwitz approach.

"My lord," Count Korwitz rasped as he saluted, with the harsh voice one has when their vocal cords are replaced by machinery. "May I have a word? There are some matters I feel I must discuss with you."

"Korwitz," said von Ravenstein, plucking the pipe from his mouth. The Grand Duke's green eyes slid over the half-human admiral; his face remained slack and unreadable. 

"Capturing Celestine conventionally is folly," Korwitz said bluntly, his organic eye staring at his superior, his synthetic whirling furiously around, scanning the room. "Who knows how far the jihadists have indoctrinated its people? If we take this world and leave the inhabitants alive, they will simply be waiting to stab us in the back. I believe that the optimal solution would be to liquidate the native elements from orbit. We have more than enough stock of Agent BE-2335 aboard the Ragnarok for the task, I assure you."

Ravenstein snorted. "Not this again," he said, raising his eyes to meet the vice-admiral's chilly glare, "I am not inclined to repeat myself, Korwitz, but let me say this one last time: the issue is not whether you have enough of the godsdamned virus. It's whether I want to kill four billion people outright at the start of this operation. I know such considerations are trivial to you. Do you know for whom they are not? The King. The noisemakers in the Diet. Your direct superior, Rutherford. And most importantly, there are millions of conscripts on that planet that I need to take the rest of the system."

von Ravenstein pushed himself to his feet, circled his desk and approached the looming cyborg, who stared silently.

"A time may come, Korwitz," the Duke said in his low, flat voice "in the course of this farrago we've been embarked upon, when I will have need of the horrifying weapons you've been-[i] illegally-[/i] stocking away on that floating tomb of yours, but I will not allow what will be my greatest triumph, the greatest triumph in the history of Valyrian arms since Ovo's Victory and Peniol- to be marred by your bloody quest for vengeance."

Vice-Admiral Korwitzs bionic eye stopped swirling, and focused on Ravenstein. "

This soft-heartedness will cost us many lives for centuries to come," he rasped, "but of course... it is your decision to make... efficient or no. However, the presence of xenos in our expedition is not only a vulgar taint in what will be the great crusade of humanity, but it is also irresponsible. These... mercenaries will betray us, I can promise you that. Why wait for the inevitable? The coming battle will be chaotic. Who would question it if, in the mayhem, perhaps some stray shots were to destroy their ships?"

The Grand Duke exhaled a twisting cloud of bluish smoke through his nose, which hung around his head like a spectral halo. He walked over the to bar cart and poured himself a Xossan brandy, neat. "You don't drink, do you Korwitz? I don't understand abstainers."

The Vice-Admiral glanced at the cup with disdain. "Drinking is addiction, addiction is weakness." He returned his gaze to the Duke, replying chillingly: "And weakness must be purged, wherever it is found."

"Korwitz," said Ravenstein in his placid, quiet tones. He spoke like a man commenting on the weather, "If your rage becomes a liability to my operations, I will purge you without blinking. I have sent greater men to the airlock."

Ravenstein looked down at his glass and back at the glowering, half-human officer. He took another slow sip.

"Half the command staff on this fortress despises you, and the other half are terrified of you. Rutherford, it will interest you to learn if you haven't already, gets a tidy pension from the Office Unspoken to keep tabs on the likes of you and I, and a sprinkling of other ambitious and clever officers of whom His Majesty is frightened. I don't despise you, Korwitz, and I certainly have nothing to fear from you. That makes me the closest thing to a friend I think you're likely to have in this life. You'll notice that I've let you keep your clandestine stockpiles of virus-bombs, and the rather more exotic horrors you have stowed away. If you are ever going to get the vengeance you seek, it will be at my side, not by disrupting my war."

"My Lord," Count Korwitz replied in his usual cold, dead voice, "Of course I submit to your, ah ,wisdom. If that's all, I must ensure that the Ragnarok is ready for the invasion. By your leave, sire."

[collab w. Vahir]