[Warhammer 40K - The Horus Heresy 42] - Garro by James Swallow

Author:James Swallow [James Swallow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Military Fiction, Science Fiction, Warhammer 40K
ISBN: 9781785725456
Published: 2016-10-19T08:12:32+00:00

Curator Lonnd had only become notable by his absence in the Riga Munitorum complex. Given to sequestering himself in his private chambers for days at a time, Tallery’s superior was barely visible to those who toiled under his orders. His existence was only confirmed to her by the steady tide of advisory notes and information requests that flowed from his data queue to hers. Or so it had been until today.

The two scribes entered Lonnd’s cramped work chamber and peered into its gloomy shadows. Kelkinod made a noise of distress and dashed to the dead man’s lectern. ‘Look. Do you see? We have a problem. Lonnd’s work is piling up and we cannot allow it to bottleneck in this office.’ He gave a shudder. ‘The last thing any of us want is… an audit.’

‘Agreed,’ said Tallery, with feeling. The stringency of the Administratum’s inspectors was legendary in its rigour and ruthlessness, and no one on Riga wanted to invite their presence there. ‘We should contact the centrum office, then. Inform them of the situation.’ She drew herself up, putting the sad matter of Lonnd’s death aside, already thinking of what might be done to expedite matters in its wake.

‘I have already done so,’ Kelkinod said, with an arch sniff. ‘A new curator will be dispatched from Terra to take up Lonnd’s post as soon as possible.’

‘Oh…’ She suddenly felt foolish. ‘I thought—’

‘You thought I was going to suggest you be promoted to take his place, is that it?’ The other scribe gave a sarcastic, snorting chuckle. ‘You forget yourself.’

‘I have more than enough experience,’ she insisted.

‘The man’s flesh is not even cold, Tallery!’ he retorted. ‘I hardly think it appropriate to brush him aside so swiftly.’

‘They turned you down for the post, didn’t they?’ The other scribe’s face took on colour, and she knew that her guess had been on the mark.

He grimaced and moved to Lonnd’s wide desk, gesturing sharply at neat piles of data-slates and sheets of photic parchment. ‘Our late curator’s work in managing the movement of military hardware, starships and assorted materiel through Riga’s docks was… It is a vital cog in the battle to oppose the treachery of the Warmaster.’

She chafed at his attempt to lecture her. ‘I am well aware of that,’ she snapped.

‘Then you also know that something as trivial as one man’s untimely demise cannot be allowed to slow the processing of our data. The flow of permissions, certifications and other sundry formulae must continue, in order to oil the gears of the Imperial bureaucracy. Without that, there will be—’

‘Chaos.’ Tallery nodded gravely. ‘Yes, of course.’

Kelkinod’s hands knitted again and he showed a sly smile that made Tallery cringe. ‘I have been granted authority by the centrum office to shift all of your current assignments to your servitor adjunct for temporary processing.’

‘That half-witted cretin? I don’t want a brain-wiped menial blundering through my data queue!’ Suddenly, she had an idea of what was really going on here, of the true reason that Kelkinod had brought her to Lonnd’s office.

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