Tevun-Krus #121 - FanFic SF: The Sequel!

There Have Been Irregularities - a story by @theidiotmachine

There Have Been Irregularities 

By theidiotmachine

Inquisitor D'Argus Fallowmeer meditated while the man before her squirmed.

The little antechamber that they shared was dimly lit: the glowglobes were old and faint, and threw more shadows than light. The desk was concrete designed to look like stone, adorned with faceless angels. The chair that the man rested in was as imposing, although the discreet cushions rather spoiled the effect. Hers was a simple metal stool, and the furniture was very much supposed to put her at a disadvantage.

That didn't mean he could look her in the eye, though.

'Inquisitor...' he started, the flustered word tumbling from his fat lips like an apology.

'Administrator,' she interrupted. She smiled, because she liked how it unsettled him more. He fell into silence again. He sat there for a second, and then opened his mouth. She cut him off even as he gathered the courage to speak. 'There have been irregularities.'

The fat man heaved a furious breath, his purple robes fluttering in the exhalation of sweet air.

'It's Danon, isn't it? Damn him. I knew that he was trouble. Praise the Emperor that you're here for him.'

Fallowmeer reached over the administrator's desk, and picked up a quill stylus. She held it up, and examined it, ignoring the flustered man. On little more than an impulse, she snapped it. It revealed wires and a single red light, which flashed and then went out.

She smiled again.

'If you say so, Administrator Geldrock. If you say so. I'd like to meet this Danon, I think.'

Geldrock stood as quickly as he was able. 'Certainly. Please follow me.'

#

Fallowmeer hadn't been to the Imperial Palace for years, and as usual she struck at how big it was. Set within and under the largest mountain range on Terra, it housed a hivecity's worth of people in its sprawling tunnels and chambers. Almost no one there had seen the surface of the planet, never mind another world, all cooped up in their tiny dorms and farms and kitchens and offices and whatever else. And yet despite this population density it seemed so empty and quiet, its inhabitants shuffling through endless vaulted corridors in absolute silence.

So she was not surprised when, following Geldrock, she turned a corner and emerged in a hall big enough to house a battleship.

It was classical Gothic, all curved stone columns and pointed arches. There were even a vast stained glass window on one wall, the effect spoilt by the flickering lights behind it. It depicted an angel in golden armour holding the galaxy in one hand, corpses at his feet, stars behind him.

There were hundreds... no, she thought, making a rough mental calculation... thousands of desks, arrayed in a perfect grid, stretching off into the gloom. She guessed that it would take perhaps an hour to cross the room from corner to corner.

At every desk was a scribe, working on a glowing dataslate. The sound of their rustling robes, quill scratches and sighs formed a great white noise like the sea. The scribes were all dressed identically, blue administratum robes over skin which had never seen the sun.

Between the desks shuffled legions of servitors, black wires and red lights stitched into their flesh. They carried storage units between the desks. As Fallowmeer watched, one servitor took a storage unit from a scribe, slotted it into its body and shivered; then it marched away, deeper into the hall, beeping gently.