It has been a month since the disastrous banquet and, despite the rapidly improving supply of soylent viridans and other edibles, the Stellar Fleet are steadily losing control of SR-651. There has been some surly obedience and lazy compliance from Torchbearer and Ardent Bane’s crew after a rumour went around that I had referred to both the Machine-God and Emperor of Mankind as Tyrants.

This was countered by some timely and heavily advertised vox series by Thorfinn and Owen. The show was a collection of interconnected historical dramas covering the brutal Angevin Crusade, including the canonization of Saint Drusus and his (temporary) assassination in 367.M39 on Maccabeus Quintus.

In this retelling, Saint Drusus happened to have a loyal retainer who constantly worried for Saint Drusus’s good health, even after he rose from the dead. Later in the series, the retainer died, protecting Saint Drusus from a Drukhari soul destroying weapon, that would have killed Drusus permanently, after he became bold and reckless with his Emperor given immortality.

Each episode was followed by a talk show where the voice actors discussed their interpretation of their characters, and the motivations the actors tried to emote while speaking their lines. These were then compared to the current affairs and personal experiences that the actors used as inspiration for their lines.

Not the most subtle of messages that Magos Explorator Aldrich Issengrund, known family man, was just worried for his daughter, but it worked well enough.

While this was going on in the background, Alpia got herself into trouble, which came as no surprise, and Brigid spent her time obsessing over Inquisitor Lyre, occasionally cackling to herself. I’m not quite sure what she’s got planned, but I suspect I’m about to find out as she has called a meeting.

Being a master of delegation and multi-tasking, I am the first to arrive at the meeting location, Torchbearer’s Xenos Librarium. A Xenos Librarium is a fairly rare addition to a voidship as it requires the owner to have sufficient political connections and military force to avoid having the repository burned or seized by the Minitstorum or the Inquisition. That House Lafiel, who used to own the Torchbearer, was able to amass such a collection of xenos writings, studies, and accounts over ten millennia is a good indication of the power they used to wield.

The room is fairly small, with enough space for twenty thousand books, scrolls, and small artefacts. Just under three quarters of the shelves and armoured cases are full. The wooden shelves are covered in relief carvings of exotic beasts and plants. Gold and silver runes have been worked into the front and rear of the shelves. Everything is locked behind armourglass and void shields, as well as contained within a stasis field.

A Xenos Librarium is not only a show of prestige and power, but also an important source of forbidden lore for identifying and combating the many bizarre, dangerous, and heretical xenos in the galaxy. This has the unfortunate side effect of making the odd book or scroll far more dangerous to read than might be readily apparent. While most are fine, if rather gruesome and highly classified, some of these books can open the metaphorical door to Chaos corruption.

It’s why these books remain as printed works, rather than get digitised. The printed word is far more immutable than binaric. The worst of these books can be rather fluid in their contents, updating and altering themselves to give you the knowledge you want to know and might lead you astray, rather than teaching you the information you actually need to keep you safe. Writing them out by hand imposes the scribe’s will upon the page, better fixing the content to the materium and reducing knowledge drift over time.

Not only that, but physical items are far easier to ward and isolate than electronic ones. It would be most inconvenient to have a demon materialise within the noosphere, even an isolated section of it.

Quaani and Annette are the next to arrive. Quaani looks well and content, if somewhat tired. Annette, however, has changed dramatically. She has undergone some serious, if routine surgery, and has adopted the two standard cybernetic packages available to Heralds and senior officers.

Annette has also matched herself to Quaani, picking out a lightly tanned Void Skin and dying her hair black. She’s also matched her facial structure to him as well, adopting his middle-eastern ancestry. Gone are the baggy robes hiding her mutated figure, replaced by a young, healthy woman nervously gripping her new husband’s arm with unnatural strength.

Quaani strides over to me and gives me a hug. A messenger satchel hangs from his hip. Annette is more restrained and offers a polite curtsy.

“Hello Uncle Aldrich, how are you doing?”

“Endlessly reciting litanies and complaints in equal measure inside my head in an effort to avoid boring everyone around me, while pretending I know what I am doing with great confidence.”

Quaani laughs, “Yes, it has been rather busy.”

I pointedly glance at Annette’s slightly bulging stomach, “Well, some of us have been getting more busy than others, that’s for sure.”

Annette and Quaani both blush bright red and look away from each other.

Quaani clears his throat, “Twas both a duty and a pleasure. House Issengrund will have its heir.”

“I’m sure it was,” I say. “Congratulations Annette, Quaani. I am looking forward to spoiling my grandchild.”

“Thank you,” says Annette. “It is good to have your support, dubious though it might be.”

I laugh, “How are you managing with keeping all of the healed navigators entertained?”

“There has been much carousing,” says Annette, “at least for them and Quaani. Fortunately House Ortellius has coughed up much of my dowry, which included a full set of household staff and a cellar of rare and expensive drinks. I have whole wardrobes of elaborate dresses, and gaudy jewellery too, so we’ve been able to put on a proper event. No one notices what we have, only what we do not and my mother and father have ensured we do not disappoint.”

“How are they?” I say. “None of us expected to see them again so soon.”

“We’re getting on well enough,” says Quaani. “Though Silas seems determined to embarrass me.”

Annette nods, “Fyona, my mother, is over the event horizon, as it were, and positively giddy that our marriage is showing results so soon. She has taken the opportunity to go over all my lessons in household management again, much to my annoyance. At least the implants make them trivial, which has given me a sense of satisfaction. Much to Quaani’s horror, Father keeps trying to invite Quaani to his orgies, so that he can check if my husband is treating me properly and correct any deficiencies.”

Quaani goes through a series of expressions from embarrassment and distaste, to curiosity and reluctance.

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“So far, he has refused,” Annette kisses Quaani’s cheek. “Given all the people that House Ortellius has shipped over, I don’t expect I’ll get to keep him to myself forever, but I shall enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Being a navigator is rather trying on relationships,” I say. “It’s certainly ticked off Brigid more than a few times, though she never blames me for it. I confess that I have heaped a few expectations on Quaani to get me out of the line of fire. He was rather nonchalant about it when he was single, but now he is married it appears he has changed his mind. Quaani clearly adores you, Annette.”

“We have been getting on splendidly,” says Annette. “I’ve been given the full royal treatment with dates in all manner of exotic locales, even if most of them were within the captured dreams of the noosphere. He’s also been introducing me to his friends and we’ve been playing all sorts of marvellous games together.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’d love to boast that he picked up a thing or two from me, but I am far more proud that his efforts were assembled by his own imagination. What have been your favourite moments with him so far?”

“Oh!” Annette gives me a light smile, “I think it is the little moments. I enjoy walking about Distant Sun and seeing all the people rush back and forth. Especially in the promenade. I never got to sit in a cafe before. Now I go every day and people don’t even look at me twice.

“I think my favourite though is reading stories to each other, or telling each other about the lives we led before we met, in the evening by the fire, and making plans for our new life together. I know it’s silly, but I just can’t stop my thoughts from returning to the small things. To waking up every morning with a kiss. It still doesn’t quite feel real though. Navigators aren’t meant to be happy. I’m dreading the moment when this fever dream is washed away in purifying flame and the cold needles of House Ortellius’s Genetors.”

Quaani wraps his arm around Annette’s waist, “That isn’t going to happen.”

“It’s sweet that you think that,” Annette sighs, looking faintly annoyed.

“I’m delighted you feel comfortable sharing so much with me, Annette.”

Annette stares at her toes and mumbles, “Quaani said you liked that sort of thing and would approve of our relationship more if I am open with you.”

“Well, he was right”, I say. “Let’s take a seat and wait for the others. I’ll spare you both any more embarrassment.”

Thorfinn is next to arrive, followed shortly by Brigid, and finally Owen.

Brigid starts laying out various papers on the large round table we have gathered around. A few moments later, Brigid looks up from her notes and our casual conversation halts.

“Thank you all for coming,” says Brigid. “There are two topics I want to talk to you all about today. The first is gifts. We have received a lot of them and Aldrich and I need help deciding, as House Issengrund, what to do with them all. Some have proven to be poisoned fruit. There are three main sources, offerings to Alpia from the working class, bribes for favours to Alpia from the merchant class, and House Ortellius.”

“Forgive me Brigid,” says Owen. “I can understand each of us are present, but why is Alpia not here for this discussion.”

“Alpia is currently busy trying to excavate herself from her fuckup,” says Brigid. “Aldrich and I agreed to enable a learning experience for her, given her new status, and it has escalated far beyond our wildest imaginations. We aren’t trying to go behind her back here, but rather create a series of solutions that she can pick from to lessen her burden.

“The gifts from House Ortellius are a different matter and pertain to the less savoury aspects of navigator practices. We are hoping to lean on Annette’s expertise and figure out an appropriate response without causing offence, or set too arduous a precedent.”

“Thank you,” says Owen. “Are you referring to the problem that resulted in the Trial of Faith rumours?”

“I am,” says Brigid.

“What happened to Alpia?” says Annette, sounding genuinely distressed. “Is the Saint OK?”

“Urgh,” exclaims Thorfinn. He rubs his face with both his hands, “I’ve been following this, trying to suppress it, but the Trial of Faith rumour is just too pervasive. It all started when Bedwyr began pulling people aside to expand House Issengrund’s personal guard.”

“This is going to be really convoluted, isn’t it,” says Annette.

“Aye. It is a bit silly,” says Thorfinn. “Despite the discrete recruitment, many Heralds noticed that several people stopped turning up to their positions unexpectedly, or saw them being taken aside by officers for a chat and started speculating and gossiping about what was going on.

“The rumour that took root was that the Psy-Errants were to become Alpia’s personal regiment and people were being picked out to join the Saint’s personal guard. While that is true, it’s not what these people were being recruited for. This, of course, led to further gossip about what made some people get chosen over others.”

Quaani laughs, “I have no trouble at all believing in such a series of events. What’s got Alpia dunked in the baptism pool though?”

Owen and Thorfinn glance at each other. Thorfinn gestures at Owen to take over.

Owen clears his throat, “Well now. After the public canonization of Saint Alpia, zeal in the system is at an all time high. Most of the Chartist captains have suddenly become rather enthusiastic about helping out with clearing the Zombie Plague. They are spending voidsmen and materiél with uncharacteristic rapidity, eager to prove that they are pure in the eyes of the Emperor, and perhaps more importantly their peers, all of whom are stuck in this system with not much to do other than try and one up each other.

"We advised them not to, there’s little point in fighting zombies who are going to be purged with blessed radiation, but they did not listen and we did not stop them. This momentum was accelerated by the reveal that the Zombie Plague does not affect those pure of faith. Hence the beginning of a Trial of Faith.”

“Oh no!” says Annette. “All those people fighting and dying for when there is no need for it? That’s awful.”

“Indeed, Lady Annette,” says Owen. “It is a cruel fate, though many seem glad to make the attempt. The captains were keen to avoid bringing the plague back to their vessels, so these troops have not been allowed back to their vessels after being deployed and are now stuck on zombie infested ships while we turn cargo containers into quarantine facilities.

“These troops are spending resources far faster than was predicted by their officers, especially food, as many of their supplies keep getting tainted. The ships of the Chartist Captains are not equipped for long term deployment of troops, but rather the swift expulsion of boarders. As such, they quickly began to run low on appropriately packaged supplies and weren’t keen on fixing the situation when they’d just keep getting tainted. Alpia, I believe, wanted to help out and was able to do so, though I do not know the specifics. Brigid?”

Exasperated, Brigid says, “I can’t decide if I should be annoyed or proud of Alpia right now. Both Aldrich and I told her it was a bad idea to interfere, but she felt that helping people is her duty as a Saint. The Mechanicus prefers equal exchange. Given Aldrich’s previous declaration to support Alpia, we agreed to facilitate the delivery of supplies, but that Alpia would have to purchase the supplies herself. While Alpia has significant savings, it’s still not enough to feed tens of thousands of voidsmen for months on end, so she got creative.

“Alpia went through the offerings and bribes she received and picked out a few that she really liked, as well as some questionable candles she was sent, made from the tallow of the faithful dead. Most of the trinkets were sold in bulk, but the ones she liked, as well as the candles, were blessed with the intention of warding off the Zombie Plague. Alpia then auctioned them off for vast amounts of money as her ‘personal effects’. Most of her goods were purchased by Rogue Trader Calligos.”

I snort, “At least she didn’t try to sell her sacred bath water.”

Brigid winces, “She tried, but I put a stop to it.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” I say. “To continue this cascade of ridiculous events, Alpia then traded a huge amount of thrones and other foreign currencies with the Stellar Fleet and Brigid permitted the sale because we need the currency reserves.

“Alpia took advantage of our favourable rates to get more resources than she would otherwise have been able to acquire, then shipped massive quantities of soylent viridans, clean water, and medical supplies to the hungry voidsmen, supplies that she personally blessed to prevent chaos driven spoilage. Then everything got worse.”

“How!” says Annette, her voice full of outrage. “With Saint Alpia intervening the problem should have been solved right? How could the charitable actions of the Emperor’s Chosen end in ruins?”