The Imperium's Frontier: Intelligence and Trust

Truth be told, whether it is the prosperous districts atop a Hive City, the wretched trash heaps of the Underhive, the desolate wastes of a Death World, or some godforsaken Feral World, despite the differing cultures, varied environments, and even the vastly distinct ways they worship The Emperor, they all possess one thing that remains unshakable.

A bar.

Vito pushed open the swinging doors of the local tavern. The creaking hinges looked as though they hadn't been repaired in ages; this spot in every bar was the most frequent to break. Whenever night fell and the rest granted by The Emperor arrived, every farmer, laborer, and soldier from the local Planetary Defense Force would push open those doors and step inside.

Every bar is exceptionally lively at night, regardless of the world. The more desolate and devoid of modern civilization a place is, the more prosperous its bars become.

After all, this place is the only spot within a ten-kilometer radius where one can enjoy the life of a civilized world. Of course, beyond entertainment and socializing, bars serve another well-known function: intelligence gathering.

Vito scanned the room. There were few people here yet—only the bartender wiping a glass and a scattering of farmers sitting about. This was hardly surprising; the sun was still hanging high overhead. Once The Emperor's scorching sun dipped below the horizon, the place would surely liven up.

Vito walked to the counter. The bartender eyed him with suspicion, clearly harboring no affection for this outsider. Vito was used to it; even though all are subjects of The Imperium, the xenophobia between different Imperial worlds had become an incurable malady.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked with forced politeness. Vito smiled and placed a few Imperial coins on the table. "Just your local distilled spirits. Also, I'm looking for someone." "Who?" "Antonio."

The bartender's expression stiffened, but he turned to search the liquor shelf, muttering as he did so, "What do you want with Antonio?" "Business. If he's willing, I think I can bring him some benefits."

Vito spoke, watching as the bartender poured the drink into his glass. At the same time, he heard the sound of bolts racking behind him. Vito gave a wry smile and turned his head. Sure enough, several locals were pointing guns at his head with dark, hollow muzzles.

Vito turned back and saw the shotgun the bartender had produced from some unknown location. Vito smiled and took a sip of his drink.

"To be able to drink while your head is on the verge of being blown off—I don't know whether to call you calm or stupid." A voice spoke as a man emerged from behind the liquor shelf. He wiped a glass sphere in his hand and sat down at a table with practiced ease.

Vito smiled, took another glass from the bar, grabbed the distilled spirits from beside the bartender, and walked over to the table, sitting down opposite the man with equal naturalness.

Vito poured him a drink, completely ignoring the guns pointed at his head from behind. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Antonio."

The man named Antonio sized Vito up, leaning back in his chair with a look of piqued interest. "I heard you roughed up my men. Beat them pretty badly, too."

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot." Vito placed a money pouch on the table. "Your men were collecting protection money behind your back. Now, it's returned to its rightful owner."

Antonio's brow twitched slightly. He looked at the pouch, then at the smiling Vito. He let out a cold laugh and waved his hand, signaling his men to lower their weapons. They did indeed lower their unfriendly guns.

Antonio picked up his glass and took a sip. "I'm a man of my word." "Vito. Vito Constantine." "Mr. Constantine, I will return this money to the farmers. I only take what I'm owed and do what must be done."

Vito smiled faintly and took a sip of his drink. "Fortunately, I also only do what must be done, Mr. Antonio, and ask the questions that must be asked." "So, you're here to ask questions. I'm a helpful man; you can ask around on the street. They'll tell you Antonio is happy to help, provided it's a win-win."

"Of course, I agree with that logic. So, please, hear my question first." Vito said, swirling his glass. "Hmm, your local spirits aren't bad. Much better than the swill in the Hive City worlds."

"You're from the Capital World, Mr. Constantine?" "No, I come from elsewhere, but that's not important. I want to know if you have any information regarding the whereabouts of a shuttle that recently arrived on this planet, as well as the movements of its crew."

"As you can see, Mr. Constantine, this is an Agri-World. There are countless transport ships and shuttles coming and going every day, including yours." "That may be, but I think a military shuttle is quite conspicuous, don't you? Especially given that its crew are also members of a space station."

Vito's smile was filled with a sense of mystery, as enigmatic as the Aeldari. Antonio studied the mysterious man before him. Could he be an agent of the Adeptus Arbites? An employee of the Governor's Palace? Or even—no, impossible.

Antonio picked up the distilled spirits to pour himself another, and after Vito swirled his glass, he poured one for this "distinguished guest" as well.

"So, I hope you can tell me something, Mr. Antonio." "Perhaps I will, Mr. Constantine. You see, we don't trust outsiders easily, so I must first determine if you are trustworthy."

Antonio tilted his head slightly, signaling Vito to look around. Indeed, everyone in the room was watching him with suspicion, their hands subconsciously pressing against their weapons. Even the bartender kept his shotgun on the counter, wiping glasses while occasionally eyeing him.

Vito shrugged slightly, appearing unbothered. "Then how should I earn your trust? I hope it's not too complicated." "We aren't fanatics of the Ecclesiarchy, nor are we savages from some backwater world, so, yes, it's not complicated."

"You see, Mr. Constantine, this planet is not as peaceful as it appears. Out in the wastes of this world, there are some locals—the true locals."

"Indigenous species? Hmm. I'm curious why the planetary government hasn't wiped them out. After all, you know The Imperium's policy toward xenos."

Constantine shrugged again, looking indifferent. "That is true, but I imagine the lords on the Capital World have little interest in leaving their luxury mansions to deal with our problems here. The local Adeptus Arbites can't handle them either."

"Not to mention, there are many ugly rumors in the low and even parts of the mid-hives of the Capital World—things worse than heresy. But our dear Governor seems to ignore these issues."

Vito narrowed his eyes slightly, but quickly broke into a smile. "Is there anything I can do to help?" "Of course. Those xenos scum hijacked a few of my transport trucks. The trucks contained some Crimson Essence that we were planning to sell to the Capital World." "A potent hallucinogen. I've heard it's quite popular in the low and mid-hives." "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Constantine."

Vito chuckled softly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Of course, of course."

The more Antonio looked at Vito, the more suspicious he became, but he chose to ignore it—at least for now. Antonio leaned back in his chair, tapping his laser pistol with his finger.

"I need you to wipe out those scum and bring my cargo back. After that, I'll believe you're trustworthy, and you'll get the information you want."

Vito smiled, then stood up and raised his glass. "Deal, Mr. Antonio." Antonio stood up as well, clinking his glass against Vito's. "Deal."

The two drained their drinks in one gulp. Vito patted his trousers and turned toward the door. "See you later, Mr. Antonio."

Antonio watched Vito go, his brow furrowed. He sat back down and stared at his glass, lost in thought, but eventually sighed and poured himself another drink, choosing to swallow that terrible and extremely dangerous thought along with it.