Chapter 71: Problems on the Homeworld

Chapter 71: Problems on the Homeworld

Petros had returned to the Fortress-Monastery, leaving the task of resettling the two million new "immigrants" to Planetary Governor Skaman.

It was only after meeting with Apothecary Dioscorides to review the neophytes' progress that he discovered the time discrepancy.

They had been gone from the system for three standard years. But on Lemnos III, less than two years had passed.

In the chaotic galaxy of the 41st Millennium, and for a fleet navigating the warp, a one-year discrepancy was within acceptable parameters. But it was still unwelcome news.

Three years ago, a warp storm had thrown them from 682.M31 to 781.M31—a jump of 98 years. Now, they were desynchronized again. If someone told Petros that a warp storm had thrown them ten thousand years into the future, he wouldn't even be surprised. He wasn't a Chaos God; he could only endure the tides of the Immaterium.

Rather than waste energy on what he couldn't control, he focused on what he could. His Chronicler, Sappho, was due for her report.

Petros sat in his iron chair in the Strategium, unarmored but radiating authority. Before him stood Sappho, dressed in her purple peplos, data-slate in hand.

She took a breath. "My Lord," she began, "the planet faces... integration issues. First, language. The new arrivals speak dialects from the hive world; only a few speak High Gothic, and even fewer of the natives understand it.

"This is critical in the Planetary Defense Force. Recruits cannot understand orders or read warning signs. Accidents during training have been... frequent. And bloody."

Petros frowned. He had seen this problem with the "Spear of Hector" years ago. "I will mandate the establishment of Scholas," he said. "The natives and the immigrants will learn Low Gothic. I don't care how many dialects existed before; from now on, the official languages are High and Low Gothic.

"The older generation will struggle. Let them. We look to the youth. They will learn."

Sappho nodded and continued. "Second, the measurement systems are in chaos. The city-states use the 'Talent' for weight, but a Talent in Nopae is different from a Talent in Lacedaemon. The immigrants use 'Pounds' and 'Kilos.' Trade and taxation are becoming impossible."

The reality was worse than she said. Staters, Talents, Minas, Drachmas... A Drachma was 1/100th of a Talent, but a Talent could be anywhere from 26 to 43 kilograms depending on which city-state you were in. It was a logistical nightmare.

"Standardization," Petros declared. "We will adopt the Imperial Standard system. Notify the Dark Mechanicum: all future production must adhere to this standard. No other measuring devices are to be manufactured. Again, those who cannot adapt will be left behind."

Sappho hesitated. "There is also... the currency. The people do not trust the scrip. They are used to gold, silver, or barter. The concept of paper money is... foreign to them."

Petros sighed. He could enforce laws with a bolter, but he couldn't force trust in an economic system. He had assumed that since other worlds used scrip, his own people would accept it. He had been naive.

"We must educate them," he said, masking his own uncertainty. "They must understand the security and ease of scrip. And we must ensure its value remains stable. I will... devise a plan for this."

He tapped the desk. He knew nothing of economics. He had spent two hundred years learning how to destroy civilizations, not build economies. He would have to study.

"Is there anything else?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Finally," Sappho said, "the Lacedaemonians. Merchants are using their tax-exempt status to smuggle goods. They route their cargo through Lacedaemonian hands to avoid the Governor's tithe."

Petros's eyes narrowed. "Intolerable. Their privilege exists to preserve their warrior culture, not to line the pockets of merchants. Tell your father to investigate. If he must exile or execute a few hundred merchants to make the point, so be it.

"Remind him: he answers only to me. He does not need to be paralyzed by the 'law' when the law is being used against us."

Sappho nodded. Her father would handle it. The Lacedaemonian problem was complex—jurisdiction, mixed marriages, legal status—but the Warband's tithe of their youth had kept their numbers low, preventing them from becoming a true threat.

"I will support your decisions, my Lord," she said, bowing.

Sappho left, and Petros rose. He needed to find texts on economics and education. His enhanced brain allowed him to learn quickly, but he had to start.

Schools, standardization, currency, taxes, integration... these were the battles he had to fight now. To build a strong homeworld, he needed a strong economy. Only then could he build the factories and arm the legions that would protect his world from the galaxy that wanted to burn it.