“Why would I care what the average sentient off the street has to say about political issues? Nine times out of ten they are hardly qualified to give any sort of informed opinion. The masses are satisfied so long as they are paid a fair wage for their work, they can educate their young in safety, and can live a comfortable life with enough luxury to ease their days. Democracy can achieve that in small doses, but it is inevitable that corruption and greed work their way into every level, destroying everything that previous generations bled for. The Imperium is an autocratic meritocracy, where talent and knowledge is rewarded, and corruption is ruthlessly exterminated. The quality of life of our people on average is far superior to that of the so-called wealth-driven ‘democracies’ of the Coalition. We found a better way to govern, and they can’t stand to see us succeed. That’s why we’re the ‘evil empire’.”

Consul Emilia “Sage” Sagax

Dominus Valerius Artifex, Eternal Emperor

Antarasel Station, Antarasel System

“You gotta understand, I’m doing this as a favor, right?” said the broker, even before she introduced herself. “You made someone really powerful angry, and that someone can really mess up my life.”

Artifex looked to Philon and the Templars who were standing with him. Philon had the grace to look embarrassed. “Hannah has found a buyer for the iridium, who is willing to pay 163,000 centicredits to get around the station laws.”

The broker was slightly below average height, her brown hair speckled with gray. She wore a thin style of space suit, underneath a formal jacket atop a ruffled blouse. The cut of the jacket was tailored to her curvy build. Despite her shady profession, Hanna was clean cut, with a professional hairstyle and subtle jewelry.

“Minus my ten percent,” said the broker.

“Down from fifteen,” said Philon helpfully.

“Yeah, well, I pay my debts,” said Hannah gruffly. She stuck out her hand to Artifex. “Hannah Hallam, broker extraordinaire, at your service.”

Artifex smiled. He recognized the type, and could work with it. He shook the broker’s hand. “Captain Valerius. I have quite a lot of things to buy and sell, and need a good agent. If you do well on this shipment that I’ve brought in, I will hold your end of the bargain fulfilled, and happily pay your normal fifteen with the next shipment.”

Hannah cleared her throat to cover her surprise, then gave a sharp nod. “Alright, what are we working with here?”

Titus escorted the broker to the side room that had the desk, leaving Artifex with Philon once again.

“So how bad is it, really?” he asked.

“Well, on the positive side, the Templars are excited that you and The Saint are here. Was that him? Anyway, we were hoping you could come to our weekly Speaking and maybe say a few words? It would mean a lot,” rambled Philon.

“Focus, Philon,” said Artifex.

“Oh, right yeah, so the bad news is that Carmine is pretty damn angry. You didn’t kill his boy, but rumor has it that Todd will be laid up for weeks. You’re new here, so there’s no way you could know. Carmine basically runs the Market. His crew charges rent and protection fees, and has free rein everywhere except the slave market. He’s a crew captain, and a big one. Rumor has it he’s next in line as head of the Family. Worse, a lot of people owe him favors, including the Father. I wouldn’t show your face around the Market again. You only survived last time because they didn’t have time to get their bruisers in place.”

“How did they get me blackballed if they couldn’t get their guys there?”

“Oh, you misunderstand. Carmine’s guys are all over that market. They spread the word. Realistically, though, most of them aren’t bruisers, and I’d bet most aren’t armed. They’re shielded by the Family’s reputation on your normal days.”

“So we are completely dependent on Hannah and her honor,” said Artifex with a frown. “Well, looks like I will have to take on the Family sooner rather than later.”

“Take on… the Family?” said Philon in disbelief.

“Of course,” said Artifex. “I can’t take over the station and leave the rotting corruption of organized crime behind me, can I?”

“Oh, Deus!” said Philon in fervent surprise. “What can this lowly Templar do to earn his place at your side?”

“Call all your most devout. We need at least a dozen from the Ardent Path to aid Titus. I want at least ten Scholars and ten Shadows for a project. How many of the Faithful have military experience?” asked Artifex.

“Dozens, Deus,” said Philon.

“Excellent. I want the most experienced and most devout to begin with. Say, two dozen? We will train them first, and they can begin training more. I need my Cohort Captains for my newest Legion. Servitium super sui.” Artifex began to pace back and forth, even as Philon began to write notes on a creased piece of vellum with a short stylus.

“What of the project for the Scholars and the Shadows?” asked Philon.

“I need them to start a soup kitchen,” said Artifex with a smirk, anticipating Philon’s reaction.

Philon did not disappoint. His jaw hit the floor, gaping for a solid few seconds before sputtering in surprise. “Do what now?”

“The Scholars will start building out the infrastructure for an intelligence network fronted by the soup kitchen. Hidden meeting spaces, data collection servers, pattern analysis, communications, and so forth. The Shadows will establish themselves as community activists and outreach for the Temple. They will start with feeding the poorest - orphans, jobless families and the like. I assume you have a Temple?”

“Two, in fact. We have grown over the last few decades,” said Philon with pride. He had not blatantly stated it, but the look on his face claimed credit for that growth. “Our largest is one ring above the Market, while we have another a few levels down but on the same ring as the Market. We do not have any followers from the wealthier levels. Obviously, industrial rings like this one have nothing, either, since people do not live here.”

“Buy or rent space near the lower Temple, as this will be closer to the poor people. Feed them but ask nothing at all of them. Simply offer free food, at least to start.”

“I don’t understand,” said Philon.

“Did you know that few people are ever truly involved in the overthrow of governments? Many may be affected by the war itself, but the percentage of a population that is actually involved is very tiny. Successful social revolutions against tyrannies happen when mobs of people, usually the young and disillusioned, manage to force out an elite political group. Rebellions occur when a faction gains sufficient arms to fight the government. Military coups happen when the military disagrees with the civilian government. Do you know who has the least say in the matter, and bears the highest cost?” said Artifex.

“The civilians?”

“The civilians,” he confirmed. “But if you are the one who can empower the people, there is no limit to the power you can draw from them in return. The Shadows can listen, at first. These people see, they hear, they witness. There is power in information. We need that power. The Shadows will plant the first seed there, while we build here. Schedule times for each group to come here with Titus as soon as possible.”

“Deus,” said Philon with a slight bow, his fist over his heart.

“What is ‘Deus’?” asked Hannah as she and Titus returned from their discussion. Both had pleased expressions on their faces. The meeting had clearly been productive.

“All is well, I assume?” asked Artifex.

“We had a fruitful discussion,” confirmed Titus.

“I have another task for you,” said Artifex to Hannah, walking over to where she and Titus were standing. “It’s a bit time sensitive, I’m afraid. I need you to make a purchase for me.”

“Alright, what do you need?” said Hannah, raising a sheaf of vellum into place and getting her stylus ready to write.

“At the slave market, there is a man named Ivalgo who has been brought in -”

“Slaves?! I don’t do slaves,” snapped Hannah. She turned to Philon. “I told you I don’t do slaves, and where did you bring me?”

“I need to buy his freedom,” snapped Artifex loudly. “And any of his crew, if he had any survive. I struck a bargain with him at the Market, and will employ him once he is free.”

“Oh,” said Hannah, deflated. “I won’t work with them directly, nor would they talk to me if I would. But I know someone who will do it for me.”

“How much money will you need for those purchases?” Artifex’ estimation of Hannah went up a few notches, more than enough to forgive the mistaken assumption.

“What is his profession? You said he had a crew? Ship’s captain?” asked Hannah, once again taking notes as if she’d never had an outburst.

“Of a small cargo cog,” he answered.

“Those usually have a crew of six to eight. Experienced spacers are worth around a thousand centicreds, and a crew captain between two and four thousand,” she said.

“I’ll pre-approve up to 20,000 for all of them,” said Artifex. “If it costs more, I’ll know why before I consider paying more. One last thing.”

“Yes?”

Artifex handed her a new list. “We need arms and armor. I’ll pay the full 15% premium on those.”

“You know she thinks you’re going to start running weapons, right?” said Titus as soon as their guests left.

“You think so?” asked Artifex.

“Why else would you make a deal with an enslaved cargo captain to free him and his crew?” asked Titus rhetorically. “Why did you do that though, really?”

Artifex sighed. “I let my own anger interfere, and I let him fly blindly into that pirate trap. I didn’t even warn him.”

“He was the one foolish enough to fly into it in the first place,” retorted Titus. “He is responsible for his own actions. We didn’t tell him to charge in like he was a space knight from some children’s fable.”

“I know that. But I could have warned him, and I can put him and his crew to work. We need salvagers we can trust,” said Artifex. “We brought a small fortune with us, but we will need a very large fortune to fund our campaign.”

“Armies won’t march on empty stomachs,” acknowledged Titus. “How do you know he is to be trusted?”

“It was a gut instinct,” admitted Artifex. He held his hand up to deflect the inevitable comment. “I know, I know. I’ve said it a thousand times myself. Gut instincts are never to be trusted. Just the same, I took this one. Let’s call it a calculated risk.”

“Calculated?” said Titus, about to argue the point, when Artifex gave him an apologetic look. Titus sighed. “Very well. I need to get to work on the environmentals, seals, and organizing the supplies.”

“I need to start on the system restorations and deep maintenance,” said Artifex. “I can do a lot now with some of what you purchased, so I will need to build up the fabricators to do the rest. But there is something else I need to spend some time on, before we get too busy.”

“What’s that, Imperator?” asked Titus.

“I need to fix my Core.”