“Now that you’ve all pecked at the Magos for your pound of plasteel,” says Calligos, “I have something more productive to offer.”

  Below us, the performance continues with a pair of barely clothed sisters swallowing sharp swords while a well oiled muscle man skates around the room with Servo-Skulls attached to his feet while juggling lead feathers. I’ve no idea if there’s some theme or message here or if the ringmaster has noticed we’re not paying much attention and he’s just throwing out random acts to see what gets a reaction.

  For a brief moment, I entertain the idea of hacking the Servo-Skulls and have them start insulting their rider, then I discard it.

  Calligos continues, “When I heard that the yards were under threat I scoured one of my lower hives for volunteers and pressed half a million people into service. They have been armed and armoured with flak and stubbers. Though ill disciplined, they do not lack enthusiasm and are ready to serve, should you give the call, Magos.”

  “Thank you for the offer, Calligos. However, I must decline your offer of additional forces, odd though that may seem.”

  “What? Why?” Calligos scowls. “I do not intend to ask for too grand a favour and if you had the troops you would have fixed this by now. The yards cannot continue as they are. Industry must return and soon or we might as well write off the whole Expanse.”

  What a drama king, I know it’s bad, but the Koronus Expanse is not without its Forge Worlds, minor though they be.

  “Repairs are progressing well and existing facilities are being retooled,” I say, folding my arms. “Staff training is actually the slowest part. The current workers are utterly inadequate and unable to evaluate what is fixable, and what is not, or even properly use the tools they have scavenged.

  “I estimate that within six months, the Receiving Yards will be able to resupply visiting vessels with food, fuel, and munitions. A year will see us performing repairs on escorts. Slips for your grand cruiser, and perhaps even battleships, will be available within a decade. Refurbishment of old hulls, however, will have to cease. Instead, we will be building new ones to order.”

  “You seem to have things well in hand, Magos,” says Thalk. “We always need new ships.”

  “You’re too used to the speed of your own facilities, Vice-Admiral,” Calligos says. “Those delays are excessive. The repair facilities already exist and should be repaired by now. I can only assume the Zombie Plague is stifling your labour efforts, hence my offer of assistance. No one wants to stay here longer than necessary and the Warp is no barrier for the bold and well prepared.”

  I say, “Calligos, I rather think you missed half of what I said or are missing the wider implications. We are preparing to turn what was once a barely functional shipard into a proper supply base, manufacturing hub, and training facility where before there was a barely functioning recycling hub.

  “Once we are done, there will be facilities to take apart anything from worn out vessels to demonically possessed hulls. That I am saying I can get that up and running in ten years is a miracle. I don’t even need the people you are offering. I can just grow them, pre-educated and mostly ready to go, but let’s set that aside for now. How much do you know of the Zombie Plague?”

  “If you can pull that off, I will retract my words, and you can count on me to be one of your finest customers,” says Calligos. “I will believe it when I see it though. As for the plague, it is unnatural, and spreads through bites and poor air. It is easily countered with the judicious application of holy fire and a void suit. Even a rebreather and goggles are sufficient most of the time. There is no known cure.”

  I say, “What you need to know, and I am sure Librarian Aengus will have much to say on, should he care to break his silence, is that the Zombie Plague is also known as the Plague of Unbelief. It only infects those who do not hold faith in the Emperor, such as underhivers who live in squalor and despair, fighting for scraps, rather than face imperial scrutiny and punishing quotas.

  “Those ‘volunteers’ you have provided will likely make the problem worse. Most have probably never even heard of the Emperor. If it weren’t for this troubling aspect of the plague, I would have sent in thirty-thousand Kataphrons to clear the mess, but Servitors, especially a clan of murderous, repurposed cannibals, are particularly susceptible.”

  Calligos scowls, “I see. Do you have a solution?”

  “I do, and it is one that will require the cooperation of Chapter Master Lir and Canoness Ephrine. I should also point out that, as an unnatural plague, one should not count on air and bites remaining the sole vectors of infection. It is possible that it could begin to spread through nightmares, groans, or insects.

  “Anything is possible given that the plague itself is a perversion of the technology that keeps the Emperor alive. As such, we cannot afford for it to spread and mutate. Neither can we abandon the rich resources in this system.

  “This is why restoration of the Receiving Yards is slow. I need to build automated recycling systems that can feed whole ships into a smelter without being touched by human hands. This will ensure all recovered resources are purified to my satisfaction.”

  Leaning forward I stare down at Calligos and continue, “I am certain that we could do a fine job of cleansing these ruined vessels with fire and bleach, and ninety-nine percent of the time there would be no issues, but it only takes one spore in one vessel to accidentally bring the plague to a new world and I refuse to take that risk just because it is faster. It might just be your own worlds that are infected, Trader Calligos. You’ve just paid your tithes have you not? A single spore could ruin you.”

  Calligos huffs, “Alright, you’ve made your point.”

  I catch a glimpse of Calligos’ plan in his head. It appears he was hoping to leverage his forces as a protection racket and have me hand over a portion of SR-651’s profits while I am vulnerable. He is annoyed with himself that he did not research the plague properly, nor did he expect my high level connections. I lose my connection to his thoughts as his chaotic mind spins up and spits out plan after plan on how to recover his losses and salvage his pride.

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  Too bad. So sad.

  Lir says, “Magos, before we throw ourselves into the fires of war once again, there must be an accounting of the last conflict. A private one.”

  “I also require a meeting,” says Lyre. “It’s about your research into the Tau.”

  I glance at Lir.

  “Don’t look at me, Magos,” says Lir. “I didn’t tell him. We hate each other.”

  Lyre stares at me, “You literally have an Inquisitor as your Master-of-Whispers. A most absurd member for the retinue of a Rogue Trader, even one as flamboyant as yourself. Do you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “No. I’ve been counting the days, waiting for the call. I had been hoping to resolve the plague before I was called upon to assist the Inquisition once again. I do hope you haven’t squandered those augmented troops and supplies I provided.”

  “I am not interested in calling you to account, Magos,” says Lyre. “Only in your capacity to serve the Imperium. Not something you lack in, much to my irritation.”

  “It appears you continue to do good work,” says Lir. “Anything to add, Aengus?”

  “Nothing helpful,” says Aengus, “I shall keep my own counsel.”

  Lir says, “How dull. Finish your words with Trader Calligos, Magos Issengrund. We can discuss your plans on the Grave’s Bite afterwards. Canoness Stern is welcome to join us.”

  “It would be my pleasure to walk the halls of your storied vessel,” says Ephrine.

  Thalk says, “Then I shall invite the Inquisitors over to my own ship. We have much to discuss.”

  “That is acceptable,” says Lyre. “I am rather interested in how you are screening your officers for corruption.”

  Thalk blanches slightly, but he does not flinch.

  “Oh, no invitations for me?” says Calligos.

  I say, “How about a trade instead?”

  “Let’s hear it,” says Calligos.

  “With so many deaths in the system, I find myself in need of labour and crews to both build and man the vessels I will be creating. For the half a million troops and their equipment, I will offer you twenty thousand Leman Russ-E, their maintenance STC, and the necessary fuel synthesisers. Think of the Leman Russ-E as a more robust and efficient pattern of the standard Leman Russ. I will send an overview to your Factotum and Enginseer Prime for their evaluation.”

  This sounds like a lot, but to me it’s a few weeks of production from tertiary foundries. The STC isn’t worth much to me as it’s all technology the Imperium already knows, even if most of it is much higher quality than usual. I’m actually shearing him close enough to draw blood. Moving half a million men over a hundred lightyears is far more expensive than scrapping a tiny fraction of one void ship.

  “Oh, you don’t want to grow them anymore?” says Calligos.

  Ignoring his interruption, I continue, “As for further trades, for every one million literate and numerate people of good health between sixteen and thirty years of age that you send me, I shall offer you one Stellar Requisition Credit. These people must be volunteers, not slaves, and I will check.

  “An SRC is valued at one Sword-Class Frigate with a standard Imperial Navy loadout. You could use it to buy something else, but it is intended for purchasing void ships.”

  Calligos mind fills with greed and a sense of superiority. His face mostly remains impassive, though he can’t quite hide his mania burning a little brighter, not from me.

  I continue, “This offer on educated workers is available to cash in once per year for a minimum of ten years and will likely be extended should it prove successful. I’m not interested in haggling, so you can take my offer or leave with nothing. You’re right that I can always grow them, so these two offers are a favour to you as thanks for bringing the Ortellius navigators to me and bringing me reinforcements when you didn’t have to. Who knows? Next time, I might actually need them.”

  I see no reason to let Calligos know that I am onto his attempt to muscle in on my new system, and having him proactive and bringing me trades means he should stay out of my way and occasionally bring me something of use, like technology he and his tech-priests can’t figure out. My offer is closer to a bribe to get one of the most powerful Rogue Traders on my side than an actual trade, without actually looking like one.

  I know that I keep emphasising I can grow the needed labour, but building, and more importantly staffing, the facilities to grow a million people a year would take at least a decade. My current production is 60,000 every two years, just enough to match my crew requirements to escort production times.

  I’d much rather spend those resources on Charon and other facilities and have Calligos pay vast sums to bring people to me for the cost of a ship that is almost free to me; I need to train the ship builders anyway and they might as well do something useful.

  Also, I have all the materials I could need and people dump them here at almost no cost to myself. I will be offering SRC for scrapped vessels at the same rate I do for the Space Marines, a fourth of their value as a new hull with no customisations.

  For Calligos, however, this looks like a once in a lifetime deal. He gets a maintenance STC for a tank variant, and a decent stock of them to replenish whatever mechanised forces he lost to his tithes.

  Without this offer, he would likely abandon the troops he brought to the station with orders to create trouble, without telling them they’d have no support. Instead, I’m giving him a way out and a chance to make extra money each time his ships come in for repairs or resupply. That means his ships are more likely to come to me, bringing their wealth and boosting both my military and civilian industry and services.

  He might be less happy when I sell well trained crews back to him, or to his rivals, but that’s just business.

  It’s actually rather difficult to buy new ships, requiring a Rogue Trader to spend large amounts of favours and influence, as the Navy and Mechanicus have all the production tied up in schedules that span millennia. For him, the value in an SRC isn’t the cost of the ship, he has plenty of money, but the right to purchase one.

  This offer establishes me as a void ship builder who is willing to sell vessels in a manner that lets buyers avoid the tangled web of Imperial politics to buyers who, to quote an ancient film villain, have more money than God.

  Not only that, they’ll likely come to my aid if the system comes under attack. I do not care if it is out of self-interest, only that they come. This will do much to secure the safety of my people, fleet, and most importantly my boys, who will remain within the system until they get their Navy commission.

  Calligos stands up and holds out his hand and I copy him. We shake hands.

  “I accept,” says Calligos.

  Warhammer 40k Lexicanum, , and . I've also enjoyed opinion pieces such as: , The via Gamespot, and . While not strictly 40k, they are good for inspiration and IRL explanations.