Some of the gains made by earlier alliances were clearer to see now. The Administratum had lost a proportion of their control of military materiel directly to a branch of the Imperial Guard. The newly instated Departmento Munitorum operated out of exactly the same wings and buildings of the Imperial Palace, but now under the stewardship of quartermaster-colonels and logistarius-majors. Clerks whose families had served the Administratum loyally for five generations or more were now nominally Guardsmen, much to the surprise of the tithe-counters and manifest assessors themselves.
Yet what was given in one hand was taken with another. All Imperial Guard regiments being raised to combat the ongoing crisis were required, by a vote of the Senatorum, to include a proportionate number of staff from the Adeptus Ministorum. Preachers for the most part, but also armed members of the Frateris Militia that served the Ecclesiarch, were now required to encourage and protect the faith of the men and women who would be laying down their lives against the ork menace.
It was the rise of these Frateris Militia — zealous worshippers of the God-Emperor led by fiery demagogues and manipulative cardinals, growing quickly in number — that indicated the price Ecclesiarch Mesring had wrung from Lansung and Lord Militant Verreault for his support.
And behind it all, the Adeptus Mechanicus were happy to watch the flow of wargear from their forge worlds increasing with each passing day, while the shipments of precious ores and labourers in return grew by equal measure.
It sickened Vangorich to see these men, and the organisations they represented, glutting themselves on the people of the Imperium. The very same citizens they were meant to be moving to protect were working harder, longer and in worse conditions to provide the arms — and the blood — to bolster the egos of those that now controlled the Senatorum. It not only offended his sense of service, but also his love of efficiency. The bloated Astra Militarum, Navy and Ecclesiarchy required an equally engorged Administratum.
In response to the ork threat it seemed as if the Imperium, at least the Segmentum Solar, was puffing itself up like some creature trying to scare off a predator. Not that any of this was making any measurable impression on the front line of the war, because the ships needed to convey these growing armies from their home worlds were all being drawn to Lepidus Prime or Terra itself.
The screens and displays showed the latest reports on the ork advance — if the semi-random encroachments could be called such a thing — and the various Imperial responses to the emerging threats. It was all slightly nonsensical even without Lansung’s theatrics. Even with the benefits of astrotelepathy, it took an average of two weeks for a message from the outer Segmentum Solar rim to reach Terra. Disturbingly, as the ork attacks had progressed, the typical delay had been reduced to a little over ten days. Even so, by the time a message arrived and a ship was despatched in response, and the report from that ship was received, a whole month might have passed, if not more.
Lansung had been explaining, in long-winded fashion, the latest fleet manoeuvres and despatches for thirty minutes and more. He was in full gush when a sharp crack of metal on wood interrupted proceedings.
All eyes turned to Wienand, who had struck the table in front of her with the base of a heavy goblet. Lansung frowned and turned to the Inquisitorial Representative. Vangorich affected indifference, but was intrigued to find out how Wienand was going to play her next move.
‘Is there something amiss, Inquisitor Wienand?’
‘There certainly is, Lord High Admiral,’ Wienand replied as she stood up. ‘It seems that events are proceeding more swiftly than you would have us believe.’
Lansung took umbrage at this accusation, his chins and cheeks wobbling with indignation.
‘I assure you, Madam Inquisitor, that Naval Command is fully abreast of the current situation and responding as swiftly as required and possible.’
‘Is that so?’ Wienand strode past Lansung and whispered something to one of the lexmechanics. One of the hololiths shifted focus, zooming in to the mustering zone at Lepidus Prime. ‘For several weeks now you have been telling us how you are gathering a sizeable fleet at Lepidus Prime. A considerable part of the segmentum fleet, in fact.’
‘That is true, Madam Wienand. What of it?’
‘And the reason for this accumulation of Naval power is to launch a counter-offensive against the orks on several fronts?’
‘That is so, as I have explained in detail previously.’
‘You have informed us that likely targets will be Syani, Locrastes, Asgarand and other systems in that vicinity, securing worlds towards the segmentum rim to divide the ork mass.’
‘That would appear to be the most likely route to victory as this time, yes. If you need me to reiterate any of the smaller details, to aid your understanding of these somewhat specialist matters, I could do so at your convenience. However, if you would allow me t—’
‘Lord High Admiral.’ Wienand’s voice was as sharp as a Lucifer Black’s glaive. ‘Is it not true that the greater part of this fleet has recently left Lepidus Prime?’
Lansung looked at his aides, who met his glare with shaking heads and shrugs. ‘I do not believe so, Madam Inquisitor. Their orders—’
‘So there is not a large flotilla en route to Port Sanctus in the Vesperilles System?’
Vangorich hid a smile with a fake yawn as he watched Lansung flail for a moment. Just for a second Vangorich thought the admiral would be stupid enough to deny this fact, which would allow Wienand to ask if he was indeed in control of the fleet or not. It was obvious that Wienand was not asking idle questions, but had intelligence to back up her claim. Lansung recognised this before uttering any denial. He instead opted for silence while he considered his position.
‘You are aware that Port Sanctus is currently an ork-held system, Lord High Admiral?’
‘Of course,’ replied Lansung, grateful to be on more sure footing. ‘The shipyards there have managed to hold out against initial attacks, but they are sorely pressed.’
‘So Admiral Acharya is proceeding on your orders to liberate the docks at Port Sanctus?’
‘Acharya?’
The single word betrayed Lansung’s utter ignorance of what had happened in Lepidus Prime. Vangorich could well imagine the whirl of thoughts going through the admiral’s head. How did Wienand know before him? Why had Acharya set course for Port Sanctus? If the attack failed, would Lansung be blamed? If the attack succeeded, would Lansung be able to take credit?
These last two would weigh the most heavily, Vangorich guessed. He wasn’t sure how Wienand had managed to set Acharya in motion, and he would dearly like to know, but regardless of her methods the inquisitor now had Lansung trapped between two unknowable outcomes. If Lansung denied any knowledge of these manoeuvres, to insure himself against future failure, he gave up the pretence of being in control. If he took credit for them he was setting his fate on a course over which he could not exercise any control from Terra.
‘It seems my orders have reached the fleet earlier than I had expected,’ Lansung said after a few seconds — seconds that must have felt like hours to the cornered admiral. ‘I will be leaving shortly to take personal command of the attack at Port Sanctus. I was going to end today’s session with this announcement, of course, but you have somewhat spoilt my surprise.’
‘Surprise? I am sure the Senatorum does not like surprises, Admiral Lansung.’
‘An over-indulgence, perhaps. I have been a little carried away by the exciting prospect of action at last. Yes, I can announce that the true fight against the orks will commence upon my arrival. With Port Sanctus secured as a forward base once more, the offensive we have been discussing in recent conclaves will be able to proceed immediately.’
Some of the High Lords greeted this news with claps, others were still confused, trying to catch up on everything that had developed over the course of the preceding minutes. A murmur broke out as the Ecclesiarch turned to his neighbours to loudly ask what was happening, while Lord Commander Militant Verreault limped out of the chamber shaking his head, trailed by officers and orderlies who glanced angrily back at their Naval counterparts.