This is a passage from earlier on in the first story, Comes the Sandstorm. It shows Kaśnyk's day-to-day work and why, when the Resistance begins showing up, he switches on to their activities. It also shows a brief slipping of the mask. He is a true believer in the Imperium. Earlier on, he corrects a worker for slipping into the local tongue, "Gothic only. I will not listen to anything else."

This scene is a little mundane, but I feel it sharpens the facelessness of the authorities and gives a little character to Kaśnyk.

=====

Two gentle taps rapped on Kaśnyk’s office door. His eyes did not leave the monitor. Data scrolled, paused, resolved. His fingers moved slowly across the keys as he took it in and filed it away. “Come.”

The door opened a fraction. Sub-officer L-8873’s face appeared first, cautious, measuring the room before the rest of him followed. He stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him.

Kaśnyk did not look up. He lifted his left hand and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”

L-8873 sat. He placed a slim folder on his lap and straightened it, once, twice. The room settled into the faint hum of machinery and the muted tick of the wall chronometer.

Kaśnyk finished the line he was on. He read it again. Then another. Only then did he glance at the small plant on the corner of his desk. One leaf had begun to curl, dry at the edge. He noted it, distantly, and returned to the screen. “Yes?” he said.

L-8873 cleared his throat. “Sir. I’ve come regarding a discrepancy in shipment records from the eastern depots. Consumables. Nothing critical. But this is the third instance this quarter.”

Kaśnyk listened without comment, eyes still on the monitor.

L-8873 continued, warming slightly as he continued with figures, dates, and expected loss margins. He spoke carefully, the way men do when they know they are on the edge of someone else’s patience.

When he finished, Kaśnyk paused for a moment. "We’ve been through this before,” he said at last. His tone was even, almost bored. “My investigators are already assigned. Evidence is being gathered. When it’s sufficient, the culprits will be dealt with.”

“Yes, sir,” L-8873 said quickly. “Of course. It’s just, given the present climate,” he began.

Kaśnyk’s eyes flicked back to the plant. I know how you feel, he thought, not unkindly. I’ll water you today. He turned his attention back to L-8873, still without looking directly at him. “I understand your concern. I also understand impatience. What I will not do is hurry a process that requires strict adherence to regulation. That is how mistakes are made.” Smith nodded, fingers tightening on the folder.

“With respect, sir, it’s...”

Kaśnyk looked up. The movement was sudden enough to stop the word in L-8873's mouth. Kaśnyk’s gaze fixed on him, sharply and precisely. A flush crept into his cheeks, not with rage, but with contained pressure. “Powiedziałem nie!” The room went very still.

L-8873 swallowed. He nodded once, sharply, and gathered his papers without another word. He stood, hesitated as if to speak more on the matter, then thought better of it. “Yes, sir,” he said. And left.

The door closed softly. Kaśnyk turned back to his terminal. He reread the line he’d been on before the interruption and moved on. A moment later, he reached for the small watering can beneath his desk and poured a careful measure into the pot. The leaf did not uncurl. He set the can back and continued working.