looked up from his slate expectantly.

'A summary of your point, minister,' said the governor, still smiling, 'as in one that you can say out loud in less than an hour of our precious time, perhaps?'

The adept did not know whether to be insulted or not, but seeing the governor smiling at him still, he gave a nervous smile of his own and flicked through the thick wad of papers on his slate. Moron, thought Flenske.

'In… in summary,' the adept began, 'there have been seventy-eight raids across Shinar in the last three weeks, and two hundred and twelve insurgents have been detained by the enforcers. The situation is under control.' The adept sat back down quickly.

'Under control? Are you of sound mind, adept?' asked a robed, skeletally thin bureaucrat. 'We are overran with riots and demonstrations, all linked to insurgent activity, and getting worse every week! Situation under control? I beg to differ. The enforcers are unable to control Shinar any longer. I mean no slur against them, but they do not have the resources or men to contain the insurgents.'

The aging Minister for the Interior, Kurtz, raised his hand to speak. He was a stocky, powerful man despite his age, but he had lost the use of his legs decades earlier and was confined to his powered chair. Once he had been an officer in the PDF and a captain of the enforcers, before he had been deprived of the use of legs. He was a tough old fighter, renowned among Flenske's ministers for his stubbornness, and most considered him a crude man with none of the refinement that came from proper breeding. The governor sighed as he saw the thick pile of documents that Kurtz held in his hand.

'The honoured Bureaucrat of the Third speaks the truth. I have been reviewing the various reports that show the activities of these so-called insurgents. They are far more organised and widespread than any here give them credit for.'

There were snorts of derision from around the table, and the governor fixed his gaze on Kurtz.

'What is this evidence then, noble minister?' he asked, flicking a glance towards the judge.

'Extensive details of Shinar and the Shinar Peninsula. Focused map work showing the valleys and paths that lead through the mountains.'

There were more snorts of derision around the table.

'You mean the enforcers found some maps, minister?' asked the governor. 'They needn't have raided insurgents just to find maps, man. I'm sure that our cartographers could have loaned them some.'

'They have detailed layouts of your palace, governor, including.' Kurtz said firmly, looking down at a map layout in front of him, 'the location of passages that show up on no unclassified map of the palace. Passages leading into your bedchambers, for instance.'

The governor swallowed whole the nut he had been gumming, and several of the figures at the table stood, their voices raised. He felt his manservant Pierlo lean in close behind him.

'Shall I go and change the combinations on the access passage to your personal chambers, my lord?' he asked quietly.

The governor nodded, and the man slipped out of the room.

'From the evidence garnered by the enforcers,' continued Kurtz, raising his voice over the clamour in the room, 'it is my belief that these covert groups are coordinating acts of rebellion and sedition that threaten the stability of Shinar. These are not isolated groups of rebel salt workers that are trying to avoid paying taxes. This is a well supplied and armed group of organised insurgents that have integrated covertly into the institutions of Shinar and beyond.'

He held up a schematic map.

'This shows unsanctioned construction of a considerable size in the Shakos Mountains, not three hundred kilometres from where we sit. I believe this is a staging post, a training facility perhaps.'

'Minister, these documents, I would like them to be studied by my own people. Please pass them on to my aide once this meeting is concluded.'

'Governor?' said Kurtz, his face incredulous. 'You… you do not wish to act upon the information I have gleaned immediately?'

'I will act, minister, when and if I deem it to be appropriate to do so,' the governor said forcefully.

'Now,' he said. 'Colonel? I hear that the PDF is having some problems at the present?'

'I regret that that is so, governor. The Commissariat has been forced to execute a number of officers for… various infractions. And as for the insurgents, I recommend that we pull more of the PDF ranks into Shinar. I believe the popular unrest can be stemmed with a martial presence.'

'Popular unrest?' burst the minister of the interior. 'This is coordinated cult activity, governor, not popular unrest,' he spat. 'It is my belief that these insurgents are worshippers of the Ruinous Powers, and that…'

'That is enough, minister!' hollered the governor. He felt the pain behind his eyes increase, and he took another sip of water. 'I will not have such talk bandied without irrefutable proof!' He took a deep breath. 'Thank you, colonel,' he said. He turned towards the sweating cardinal. 'And the Ecclesiarch? Holy cardinal, what do you say?'

'More citizens are attending the sermons than ever, governor. I attribute it to the nearing conjunction of planets. Scaremongering propaganda has been spread through the lower hab-blocks claiming that it signals the end of the world. The superstitious salt farmers are afraid.' The cardinal shrugged his thick shoulders, 'Ergo, more citizens on pews in the daily hymnals.'

The governor grunted. 'It certainly seems to me that this rise in insurgency, the riots, the scaremongering, it all relates back to the conjunction. It's just a damn planet passing, for Shinar's sake! Why under Throne is it such a big deal?'

'The red planet of Korsis circles our system in an aberrant, elliptical orbit, and on occasion it passes extremely close to Tanakreg. On very rare occasions, Korsis passing us coincides with a conjunction of sorts, when all the planets in our system are aligned. The last time this happened was ten thousand, two hundred and ninety-nine years ago. Such a conjunction will occur in less than three months time,' said a bespectacled, robed man.

'Thank you, learned one,' said the governor sharply. The pain behind his eyes was becoming almost unbearable.

'If it pleases you, governor,' said the tech-administrator, 'I would like to return to the substation. I was in the process of blessing the machine-spirits of the turbines when your request for my presence came through.'

'Fine, fine, go,' said the governor, waving his hand.

The Arbites judge turned around, his face emotionless. The room went deathly quiet, and the severe figure let the silence grow. The governor felt his stomach knot.

'I have heard enough,' the judge said finally, the sound of his voice making Flenske flinch.

Varnus was bored. Once he had finally been filtered through the checking facilities on the sub-ground floor, then the third floor, the eighteenth and finally the ground floor of the palace proper, he had been subjected to a rigorous security check from the regal, blue-armoured palace guards. They had requested his weapons, and he had realised that he would be denied access if he refused to give up his side arm and his power maul. With some reluctance he handed them over. He had even been forced to relinquish his helmet - ''comm security'', apparently.

He had been directed to a small alcove, there to await the Arbites judge. It was a small corridor space linking two grand galleries, and there were dozens of other plaintiffs and officials already sitting there, their eyes glazed. He took a seat at the far end of the corridor alcove.

It had been hours, and he was deathly tired of the whole thing. There was an impressive staircase on the other side of one of the grand galleries that the alcove opened onto, and he watched it with boredom. A heavy guard presence prevented anyone from climbing the stairs. Those that even began to approach backed away after seeing the guards. At the top of the stairs was a massive pair of double-doors, with another set of guards holding tall, high powered las-locks, vertically to attention. They didn't move, and their faces were stoic. They must be as bored as he was, he thought.

With a click he saw one of the large doors open briefly, and a man exit. The guards barely looked at him as he lifted the hem of his red robe and quickly descended the stairs. Some tech, he thought, as he saw the Mechanicus symbol on his chest and the bionics of his left eye. The man looked flustered, and he hurried to the bottom of the stairs, looking left and right frantically. A man that Varnus had not noticed before stepped out to meet him, and the

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