《Cronos - A Warhammer 40k Inquisition Adventure》


 Foreword

    Welcome!


    If you¡¯re reading this as a newcomer, read on! But if you are one of my veteran readers, there¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ve read much of this Foreword before. You see, I am writing this in retrospective, having previously cited the Afterwords of the (then-three) Volumes of this story in conversation with a new reader and deciding that it might behoove me to be more upfront with this story¡¯s origins and what I have learned over the course of writing it.


    So here goes.


    Cronos is intended as a beginner-friendly work of Warhammer 40,000 literature. When I sat down to work on it in October of 2022, I was doing so for my father, who had only just gotten into the 40k universe himself with the works of Dan Abnett. (Eisenhorn, Ravenor, Bequin, Gaunt, etc.) The first Volume of this story, Penance, was at first written solely for him, and was structurally a bit different from how it appears here now on RoyalRoad ¨C originally it featured official artwork and appendices, offering deeper descriptions and more-accurate depictions of things that I had/have no rights to share, so I must instead make use of textual-descriptions in author¡¯s notes here on RR.


    A casualty of writing fanfiction, I suppose.


    So how beginner-friendly can it be, then, if it needs such descriptions of things? A fair question, but ¡®need¡¯ is not how I have looked at them. I saw the appendices I wrote as supplementary, and in truth, I am fairly certain my father did not even read them! All for naught, hah! But this is an Inquisitorial tale, so for the inquisitive among you, I do strive to provide some background on the universe and its goings-on.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    But for the Warhammer veterans out there, who perhaps know more about this universe than I do, I must caution you of a literary weakness I have fallen prey to: any battle in Warhammer is always dictated by its architectural author. Which is a fancy way of saying that ¡®plot armor¡¯ is real. After all, there is no more dangerous force in 40k than a named Space Marine, especially if they do not wear a helmet. This necessitates forewarning, as even I, as the architectural author of some such encounters, am terribly uncertain about some of the outcomes I have written. Yet they must be as they are, as the plot must go on. I have strived not to create anything too egregious (glances at Rogue Trader and Inquisitor: Martyr), but there may be some things that feel a little wrong within the universe. You have my apologies for that in advance. The telling of a good story matters more to me here than setting-accuracy; this is particularly true for Warhammer 40,000, for as the adage goes, ¡°Everything is canon, but not everything is true.¡±


    Speaking of which, enough of my rambling; let us get on with that story you clicked on! And if you ever have any feedback about anything involved, from narrative uncertainty to egregious examples of plot armor (or, worse, plot holes! Perish the thought!), please feel free to drop me a line. This Foreword, and much of the editing of Cronos, was motivated by user feedback!


    Enjoy,


    <ul>


    <li>Ceno</li>


    </ul>

 Chapter 0 - Prelude

    Columns of black smoke ascended at the edges of vast fields of green, rising high into darkening vermillion skies over Thantalus, the final cinders of a once populous and noble planet reduced to soot and ash. The sky¡¯s gradient began to fade to a more maroon color as night fell and fires rose, closing out the final throes of life for the world. It was not the first time I had seen a world aflame, unknowable souls cast to oblivion. But it was the first time I, of my own judgment, had condemned a planet to such finality.


    Was I upset that it had been by my hand that millions, if not billions, of those on Thantalus had died? Was I concerned about the political ramifications of a sudden gap in some of the noble houses of the Ixaniad Sector? Was I perturbed that such an endeavor had nearly cost me my life?


    No, of course not. Such was the demand of an Inquisitor¡¯s work. If I was upset about anything, it was of the necessity of my presence on Thantalus in the first place. I did not believe it a difficult task to stay within the good graces of the Golden Throne.


    And, as evidence of my more moderate beliefs, I did not even believe one needed to be a fervent follower of the faith to go without earning the Inquisition¡¯s ire. Yet here I, and my Agents, were, on behalf of the former blasphemies the world had cultivated.


    Speaking of those Agents, it was Silas Hager who, as ever clad in the heavy carapace armor of the Tempestus Scions whilst in the field, approached me while I looked on at the surging fires of the world. ¡°Sir,¡± he called to me, voice modified by the speakers of his helmet to include a twinge of digitization. ¡°There¡¯s movement, one click east, on approach. Slow, small, we believe a single entity on foot.¡±


    I looked to the east, and saw nothing, but my senses¡ªmore accurately, my psykana¡ªdid twinge as I scanned the rolling hills of calm, verdant grasses. While I, consciously, admitted to myself for the first time since initially landing on the planet that Thantalus could be quite beautiful when not aflame, my subconscious mind had other thoughts. I could not identify them with any accuracy, of course, but the general feeling I got was positive. I did not get the sense that an assailant lurked in the hills and valleys beyond.


    Silas waited patiently for my response while I took in the scene ahead.


    When I had made my decision on whether¡ªand how¡ªto intercept whoever it was that was approaching us, I turned and stepped nearer to Silas. Even without his armor, he was a couple inches my taller. In his carapace armor and Omnishield helm, I needed to gaze upward slightly to lock eyes with the emotionless, twin red crystals that beamed down at me out of his skull-patterned helmet.


    ¡°Let us greet our guest, then,¡± I declared. Silas nodded and, in one motion, drew and checked the charging status on his lasgun. ¡°Keep that ready, though I do not expect it will be needed,¡± I told him, walking past his side toward the Bird, our mobile place of residence. While much of my team was packing things up for our final departure from the world, Castecael Rock, my medicae specialist, sat idly upon the Bird¡¯s extended landing platform, enjoying the opportunity to take in the sights as I had been. ¡°Castecael,¡± I called to her. She turned her gaze to me at once, eyebrows raised over calm crimson eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s go for a walk. Bring a field kit,¡± I said, to which she nodded in silence, long, light blonde hair drooping over her face in the process.


    Castecael vanished from sight for a few moments to venture deeper into the Bird for her things, but returned to my view soon enough and leapt off the extended bay doors to join me with a kit at her side. She, unlike Silas, was a few inches shorter than I was, prompting me to angle my gaze down to face her. ¡°Where to, Inquisitor?¡± she asked me. Being addressed as ¡®Inquisitor¡¯ was still awkward for me, not least because I had not been one for very long. But more than that, a good handful of those in my retinue addressed me by my first name, and I intended to foster that sort of a relationship with the rest. Castecael was relatively new, so I understood and could excuse her formality. Silas, on the other hand, was a veteran in my employ, yet still insisted on addressing me as ¡®Sir.¡¯ It was something for me to work on with him yet.


    ¡°Just over that ridge,¡± I answered her, nodding to the east. ¡°Stay behind me until I say otherwise. Silas,¡± I called to my Scion, though he was never far from my side. ¡°You take point.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Silas agreed, and, lasrifle at the ready, marched ahead toward where he and his operatives had detected motion on approach to our camp. I let him get a few steps ahead of me before following in his footsteps, though Castecael trailed more closely behind me. She and I moved as though on a casual stroll whereas Silas maintained combat readiness. Every now and then Castecael poked her head around me to try to see where we were heading to. I needed not force my gaze around Silas; my mind would suffice to discern my surroundings, much as I hated relying on my psykana. Yet still, it assured me that there was no presence of malice on our heading.


    This, despite the fact that our battles on Thantalus had involved local militias, experienced troops from noble houses, armored vehicles, and even run-ins with the daemonic. The world had hidden many adversaries, as we had discovered by force. Yet it was none of these that we found some few hundred feet from our camp, and I was surely not expecting to find a teenage girl covered in ash and grime, with her hands on her knees panting from too great a walk or run.


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    ¡°Identify yourself!¡± Silas ordered the girl, lasrifle aimed at her torso in an instant. I could not blame him. A girl such as she could have been a last-minute suicide-bomber sent by the houses, or an engine through which the daemonic could emerge. I suppose both options amounted to the same end result for all parties involved. Regardless, Silas could not have known that the girl was neither of these things, but my mind could, and it insisted I give her more of a chance than I ever gave the houses.


    I placed a hand on Silas¡¯s right shoulder and stood next to, if still behind, his side. He glanced to me, keeping his rifle raised, and I nodded. Finally, the barrel of his firearm lowered. ¡°Thirsty?¡± I asked the girl. Exact details about her figure were hard to make out on account of her bemired skin and garments. On a hunch, I wagered she was a native of the world, which would have suggested a darker complexion and was partially confirmed by her weary hazel eyes, and she otherwise stood at about Castecael¡¯s height. Dark, thick hair had been muddied and knotted down the back of her head and neck, not crossing over her shoulders. Beyond that, without probing deeper into her mind, I knew not.


    ¡°Very,¡± she croaked out, her voice hoarse.


    ¡°Castecael, your kit have any water?¡± I asked my medicae without turning to face her.


    ¡°Not usually for drinking so much as cleaning, but here,¡± Castecael answered, handing me a small bottle. I took it, clapped Silas¡¯s shoulder once more, and then strode ahead for the girl myself. I knew Silas was unhappy that I was putting myself at risk in that regard, but he was never one to complain.


    After raising the bottle of water out toward the girl, I asked, ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Zha¡­Zha Trantos,¡± she coughed, heaved in and out a large sigh, and took the bottle from me. She then stood upright and tossed her head back to gulp down the water in one fell swoop. Afterward, she contemplated the bottle still in her grasp, wondering what to do with it. I took it back from her. ¡°Thank you. Zha Trantos, librarian and data reciprocator for House Temmeres,¡± she introduced herself. Silas stiffened up, as did I, at the mention of her house¡¯s name. It was one of a handful we had razed to the ground. ¡°You¡¯re Inquisitor Callant Blackgar, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re a savant,¡± I wagered, which was confirmed with a nodding response. My name did not get around to many libraries of the world before I had smote them along with the houses they had served. Furthermore, the number of people that could have found me or my camp was very intentionally limited. It would have taken extreme deductive and predictive gifts to identify me in as short a span of time as the girl had. Gifts like those becoming of a potent data-savant. ¡°Bit far from home, aren¡¯t we, Ms. Trantos?¡±


    ¡°I cannot estimate how far you are from home, Inquisitor, but I have covered some 52.3 miles of ground to find you, over three days and nights with the minimally required amount of rest, yes,¡± she answered, still panting from her journey. Yes, a savant. Not the first I had ever spoken with, and therefore her statistically-grounded approach to answering questions was not new to me, but it was still an earful all the same.


    ¡°So you were after me, then,¡± I asserted. Again, she replied with a nod. ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°Everyone I know has been incinerated. I don¡¯t want to be alone, there¡¯s not enough to do or think about when alone,¡± she explained. A fearful tremble lurked in her eyes. She had seen much of the incineration she spoke of. She knew it had happened by my hands, and she knew I was capable of more, much more. Yet she fought against herself to reveal any of this to me, apparently not knowing what my mind could sense from her. ¡°If they¡¯ll have me, I wish to offer my services to the Holy Inquisition, howsoever I may be needed. And if not, I believe I have rendered my services to the Throne as best I could, but that those services are no longer required.¡±


    It was a genuine request¡ªthough it had been stated as an offer. There was, as had been the case so far, no semblance of malice in her words. She did not hold a grudge against me for my actions nor intended to join the Inquisition for any form of personal benefit. She just wanted to put her mind to work, and knew that no such stimulus remained on Thantalus for her. The latter half of her speech was an unspoken request for termination, if I deemed it necessary; my campaign had ¡®missed¡¯ her in its cleansing of the world, and she was none too happy about that either. ¡°Castecael,¡± I summoned my medicae, and she was by my side in a heartbeat. ¡°Pat the girl down.¡±


    Though Zha raised her arms to her sides and assented to my demand, she still declared, ¡°I have no arms or munitions on my person.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll ensure that on our own,¡± I replied as Castecael obliged my order. While Castecael was a physician by trade, and while Silas would have perhaps been more equipped for the detection of any such armaments, I did not expect a savant to field anything too elusive, and if I could maintain the girl¡¯s last few shreds of dignity in offering her a female inspector, I would. When Castecael had finished her inspection of Zha¡¯s person, she looked to me and shook her head. No weapons or concealed substances. ¡°Silas.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± he answered at once.


    I paused in giving him orders, if only for a moment. I took that time to look Zha up and down once more. For a former member of a noble house, she was presently clothed in little more than rags. She was in a rush to find me, I suppose, clearly aware that my retinue was soon to depart from her homeworld, and in her haste and along her journey, had ruined her attire. ¡°Help the girl aboard the Bird. Castecael, prepare a medicae assessment for her and be ready to treat any wounds she may have accrued on her journey here. And Ms. Trantos,¡± I started, and held a hand out to the girl. ¡°Welcome to the Inquisition. Probationary, of course, and pending a purity screening. But I¡¯ll find work for you to prove yourself on, and if you can manage it, there¡¯ll be plenty more.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Inquisitor,¡± she answered, taking and shaking my hand gently. There was not much strength left in her, so it was a good thing Silas propped her up from under the arm opposite that which I had shook.


    ¡°Call me Callant,¡± I replied, releasing her from my grasp, and turned back to the Bird. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±

 Chapter 1 - Philosophy

    ¡°You cannot know of the Emperor¡¯s will!¡± I protested, slamming a cup of Gleece on the table. The statement should have been abundantly obvious, and so it came paired with a chuckling guffaw.


    ¡°I never claimed to,¡± replied Thaddeus Scayn, defensively raising two hands ahead of himself from across the table. ¡°For such a thing is too vast indeed.¡± Scayn¡¯s appearance had grown weathered since I had known him last, blonde hair having slightly paled and frayed, and his skin had grown more taught, which struck me as odd, as he was not old and it had not been so long ago since our previous meeting. Yet for my Inquisitive role, I saw no need to pry into his appearance uninvited; perhaps he had chosen to lessen his rejuvenat treatments. Why was his decision, and not for me to know.


    ¡°Then what are you saying?¡± asked Hans Okustin. Okustin was a trainee of mine, once an Acolyte and now a fully-fledged Interrogator, and was the second largest member of our table, taller and broader than myself or Scayn. He reminded me of myself in my formative years; sterner, and quicker to judge. He was not as amused by Scayn¡¯s philosophies as I was. He sat to my left, with his arms crossed, and had not touched his amasec.


    Scayn¡¯s defensive hands unfolded as though making an offering to the rest of the table. ¡°Merely that whatever His plans may be, we see them come to fruition daily from His loyal subjects. Five of which sit at this table now,¡± he suggested.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need you to run that by me again,¡± I suggested, grinning. I knew Scayn well. He was, after all, my former mentor, as I was now acting the part for Okustin. I knew Scayn believed in the Ardentite philosophies and theories. And I knew some small part of that way of thinking, as much as I disagreed with it.


    ¡°I am always baffled by the confusion. If our Lord is as almighty as we five know Him to be, how could it not be so that His citizenry are extensions of His will? Think of it like this, Cal¡ªhow often have you said that your crew are extensions of yourself?¡± Scayn replied.


    While I answered, Scayn returned to his amasec. ¡°The difference, my friend, is that I am not a being of divine import. And my crew are only as you describe for as long as they wish to be, and only in the sense of their authority,¡± I said in retort.


    ¡°I am well aware that you are not the Emperor, Cal,¡± Scayn laughed. ¡°It was a metaphor. Alright, consider this¡ªall the good we do in the Inquisition, all the evil we purge from the Imperium, is that not also becoming of the Emperor¡¯s will? I posit that, in time, His greatness will one day shine from all loyal Imperial citizens and servants. You, Cal, among others, have been known to shine rather brightly.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you brought me to the Black Ships to begin with?¡± I asked, now needing to take a sip of my Gleece at the thought of that period.


    Scayn chuckled before and throughout his response. ¡°No, I brought you to the Ships because you were a bratty zealot who seemed deserving of refinement. And look how well that turned out.¡±


    ¡°Oh Throne, Thaddeus, thank you,¡± I said in jest, taking another sip of my Gleece. As I did so, our Destroyer shuddered and rocked in its orbit over Hestia Majoris. We had some hours yet to go before the world spun on its axis to present us with a viable landing approach.


    ¡°And what do you think of all of this, Malkyle?¡± Penitent asked of Scayn¡¯s current Acolyte, Leylle Malkyle. Penitent was my most trusted associate, and my personal bodyguard, a Sister Repentia from the Adepta Sororitas. As a Sister Repentia, she had been previously stripped of her belongings, save for an Eviscerator blade, and cast out from the mainline Sisterhood to repent for a transgression in her service. I alone knew her name and her sin, for I demanded as such when our accord was crafted. And I alone knew of her endless devotion to the Throne and loyalty to my cause. She was the most physically imposing of the five of us at the table, the tallest and likely the strongest. Repentant and faithful, she abided by her Order¡¯s ways, and was clothed only in simple, crimson cloths and leathers that exposed much of her light skin, though concealed shaven blonde hair.


    Malkyle, meanwhile, was the smallest at the table, and seemed immediately intimidated from having been addressed by the Sister. He stumbled on his own words for a moment, then meekly replied, ¡°I believe it is not my place to question my master.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense!¡± Okustin shouted. ¡°Masters are often full of themselves and missing something critical. I would know,¡± he suggested, gesturing to me. I raised my glass to him and smiled, allowing the jab. ¡°Go on then, speak your mind,¡± he invited of Malkyle.


    Malkyle looked to Scayn for permission, who also nodded invitingly. Then the Acolyte shot his glass of Gleece down his own throat in its entirety, which widened my grin for a moment. After wiping the remnants of his drink from his lips, he spoke with a bit more confidence. ¡°I find the notion that all of mankind serve as vessels for the Emperor¡¯s will to be a bit unlikely.¡±


    ¡°A bit?¡± Okustin smiled.


    ¡°Were it so, then it would seem to me that even the heretical were acting on the Emperor¡¯s will, which is itself a horrible thought I cannot bring myself to entertain,¡± Malkyle explained. I raised a hand toward Malkyle and nodded in agreement, eyes locked with my former mentor.


    ¡°Oh, a simple misunderstanding, and one I should think you of all people, Cal, should not have fallen into,¡± Scayn replied.


    ¡°Me of all people?¡± I asked, eyebrows raised, genuinely curious what he meant by that.


    Scayn nodded. ¡°You are so quick to remind others¡ªsuch as this fine agent of yours,¡± he suggested, gesturing to Okustin. ¡°Of the fourth tenet of the Creed.¡±


    ¡°¡®Every Human being has a place within the God-Emperor¡¯s divine order,¡¯¡± Penitent quoted, nodding resolutely.


    ¡°Even the heretic?¡± I asked.


    ¡°In His universe, we are tested. Those who fail such a test are detestable as you describe. Those who succeed become worthy of His divine warmth,¡± Scayn answered. ¡°His light is in us all, I believe, until such a time as we fail Him. If we do not, then we act as He wills, and if it is so, are we not acting as Him, to the best extent that we can?¡±


    The table fell silent. Contemplative. I leaned back in my chair, eyes still locked with Scayn. ¡°That is a dangerous road,¡± I declared solemnly.


    ¡°I agree,¡± nodded Okustin.


    ¡°The heretic often knows not the error of his ways. Often, he believes in his own righteousness. Even those of our ordos succumb to such delusions. Who was that fellow from Scarus?¡± I asked the table.


    ¡°Eisenhorn, I believe,¡± Malkyle suggested.


    I nodded. ¡°Yes, him. And look upon the heresy his surety wrought.¡±


    ¡°I am certainly not going to defend his actions,¡± Scayn shook his head. ¡°Not as I¡¯ve read them. But there was a time when he, like us, carried out the Emperor¡¯s great work.¡±


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    Okustin shook his head. ¡°Sure. However, that time ended long before he did. I can acknowledge your point. And I think there is some wisdom to it. But I worry, Master Scayn, that you have not thought your beliefs through to their ultimate conclusions.¡±


    Scayn looked toward Okustin with warm appreciation, then, which I recognized as an acknowledgement of Okustin¡¯s youth. ¡°You will make a fine Inquisitor one day, dear Interrogator,¡± Scayn nodded in surety. ¡°When Cal invites you to join the ranks of our ordos, I look forward to vouching for you. But I sense there is a lesson of mercy that you have neglected to grasp from your teacher.¡±


    ¡°Mercy? For the heretic? I will have none,¡± Okustin shook his head again, appearing offended.


    ¡°Not for the heretic. But for those amidst their test. This universe is trying. Those of weaker will oft succumb to our archenemy. Do not push them there, Interrogator. Recognize the gift of your own strength, and leverage it to better ends. It is very easy for those in the ordos to maim our fellow man in our duties. If we do not account for that, if we are unwilling to accept responsibility for that, then we are in the process of failing our own test,¡± Scayn explained to my Interrogator.


    ¡°On that, I can agree,¡± Penitent nodded. She did not have a drink like the rest of us; instead, her hands had been folded upon the table equidistant from her as we were keeping our drinks. But as she replied to Scayn, she folded her hands into the Sign of the Aquila over her chest, and bowed slightly toward my former mentor.


    ¡°As can I,¡± I nodded, beginning to better understand my older friend¡¯s teachings. I still did not agree with the Ardentite beliefs of his at all, but I could at least comprehend some of the rationale. ¡°In any event, I think we have roasted my dearest teacher¡¯s beliefs enough for one sitting. So then, perhaps to busier talk¡ªwhat brings you to Hestia Majoris, my friend?¡±


    ¡°Malkyle?¡± Scayn suggested, asking of his Acolyte to answer.


    ¡°We received insight into a missing persons investigation near to the Underhive of Abseradon,¡± Malkyle explained. Abseradon was the sole Hive City of Hestia Majoris, with a population of 122 billion. While Hive Worlds were known to have populations orders of magnitude larger than Abseradon across multiple cities, as a single city Abseradon was quite densely populated. ¡°Ordinarily missing persons, even on the order of which is described in the report, would not be too uncommon for an Underhive. But there are¡­anomalous details that caught our eye.¡±


    Intrigued, I tugged on the fact that my mentor was of the Ordo Malleus. ¡°Warpspawn?¡±


    ¡°Unlikely,¡± Scayn shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll keep the specifics close to my chest for the time being, my friend. You understand. Suffice to say, I think my search will not prove worthy of my ordo¡¯s time, but I think Hestia Majoris is due for an Inquisitorial presence anyways,¡± he shrugged. In Scayn¡¯s time, he had thwarted many daemons and their cultists throughout the Ixaniad Sector, some with me as his Acolyte. Yet I knew that he, like me, needed simpler tasks between larger investigations too. ¡°Yourself? What brings the great Hero of Thantalus here?¡±


    ¡°No one calls me a hero for my work on Thantalus,¡± I rolled my eyes, and took another sip of my drink. ¡°And, frankly, that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. Need something smaller to work on to get some pressure off my back from the ordos. So there¡¯re some irregularities with the numbers of the tithe here. Might be clerical error. Might be someone skimming some profits off the top for themselves. Either way, should be boring and absolutely uninteresting. So let me know if you need help with the Underhive, could give me something to do.¡±


    ¡°Ha, if you¡¯re that pressed for excitement, I may,¡± Scayn laughed, and then he nodded past me. I turned to follow his gaze and found one of my crew, Silas Hager, standing behind me. Silas was a military man, and always carried himself as such. Even now, he was clad in most of his carapace armor, save for his helmet, which as consequence revealed his short sandy hair and pale blue eyes. While I took no pleasure in putting him in harm¡¯s way as my point man, I would have preferred to be working a case that would be more demanding of his skillset than I expected mine to be.


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt,¡± Silas nodded cordially.


    ¡°Not at all, Silas. Need something?¡± I asked him.


    Silas shook his head. ¡°Need? No, sir. Zha tells me we have six hours before landfall.¡± Now serving as my personal savant, I had tasked Zha with following Hestia Majoris¡¯s daily revolution to plot a low-profile course for our arrival on the planet¡¯s surface.


    ¡°Ah, thank you, Silas. Have the crew begin loading the Bird with whatever they¡¯ll need, and assist them as appropriate,¡± I instructed him.


    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± he nodded, and saluted our table before turning and marching away diligently.


    ¡°Gotta get me one of those at some point,¡± Scayn grinned as I returned to facing him and the rest.


    ¡°Just be a hero to a planet like Thantalus and I¡¯m sure you could get a Scion. They¡¯ll be less efficient than Silas, of course, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll make do,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Funny. He was in your gang long before Thantalus though, no?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°One of my first. Still one of my best. After Penitent, of course.¡±


    ¡°And your Interrogator?¡±


    ¡°Too full of himself,¡± I shrugged. Okustin accepted the return blow with a grin of his own, raising his glass as I had.


    ***


    My name is Callant ¡®Cal¡¯ Blackgar.


    What follows is my report of the events of and surrounding Abseradon and Hive World Hestia Majoris, as requested by the ordos. I will attempt to recount this information as succinctly as possible, but given the scope of what occurred, some dramatization is not unlikely. Having said that, if you expect some verbose prose as I tell this tale, you are destined for disappointment. Again, this is a report.


    By my own admission, I recognize that my actions in pursuit of the heretic led to the near-halting of Abseradon¡¯s production facilities and the deaths of multiple billions. I maintain that this is a less horrendous fate than had the goals of the heretic been realized, for those goals concerned far more than Abseradon alone.


    From the above, you may have begun to paint a picture of a relationship with me and my crew. An Inquisitor cannot find time for friends amidst their work, but close allies are a valuable resource. Mine are more valuable than most, and as Thaddeus Scayn described, I do consider my Agents to be extensions of myself.


    For the Inquisitorial scribes that may read this and check it against their existing records, allow me to describe myself, that my understanding of my own existence can be compared to the ordos¡¯ view of me. At the time of writing, I am an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, and have been for the last 16 years. I was, at the start of the Abseradon events, 54 years of age, though appear in my thirties, thanks to the rejuvenat. It was 812.M41 when these events began to unfold. A decade prior, I had emerged from a mass-casualty cleansing of cultists on Thantalus, which had earned me a degree of respect and resources from my success, but also a measure of scrutiny from the ordos. So it is not surprising, now, that I have been sanctioned for investigation following the ordeal on Abseradon.


    I was raised in the Monodominant belief system during my time on the Black Ships, not unlike my Interrogator, who you have met above. I have since begun to accept some philosophies of the Amalathian and the hopes of the Thorian.


    I am 6¡¯2¡±, have dark brown hair and yellow eyes, and gentle, pale skin pigmentation. I was born on Pyrras-3, where I was tithed to the Imperial Guard for a time, rising to the rank of Commissar before becoming involved with Thaddeus Scayn. My approach to Inquisitorial work is militant, but discrete. I surround myself with those of generous combat experience, as it is they that I best know how to wield. Some Inquisitors work entirely within the shadows, others are more overt in pursuit of brazen intimidation. I like to believe I operate in the middle, choosing the right time to strike after enough planning, but hitting the heretic as hard as our ordos are able when I do so.


    Like my Penitent, I have an Eviscerator, given to me by my ordo to aid me in my work, alongside a power sword and bolt pistol. My efforts on Thantalus rewarded me, materially, with a Nemesis Falchion, mastercrafted and given the name Drepane, which I treasure dearly, as it is a vital instrument for my work when things go most awry. I am most often clad in black body armor and wield instrumentation with which to communicate with my retinue, notably involving a Monitron for better communication with Silas Hager¡ªhe has programmed his own to recognize me as his Tempestor Prime; a great honor for me, though I insist to him that I have not the training the role would otherwise suggest. He is indifferent to my objections.


    Not unlike others of our ilk, I also wield the dreadful mind-force of the Warp. I avoid using my psykana if I am able, for I believe it invites treachery. But in the presence of uncooperative opposition, or when otherwise unarmed, I am unafraid to assert my will upon the enemies of the Throne.


    I have seen the Xenos filth with the Guard, and the daemon horrors with the Inquisition. Both are an insidious pestilence I have been glad to provide cures to. But it is the heretic, and the hunt and eradication thereof, that I find to be my true calling, for it is they who provide me with the most difficulty in cleansing, they who are the most elusive and deserving of pursuit.


    And it was the heretic that almost remade Abseradon into a factory of abominable weapons that would have upended the Ixaniad Sector.

 Chapter 2 - Abseradon

    Our descent unto the surface of Hestia Majoris was trying. In addition to only having the one Hive City, the planet also only had one continent, which ate up barely fifteen percent of the planet¡¯s surface. The rest was water. Among other atmospheric and spatial factors, this resulted in making Hestia Majoris a bio-rich, inescapably humid world with a treacherously dense atmosphere. Tremendous algae cultures were harvested across the world¡¯s seas and brought to Abseradon, where they were squeezed and refined to pure, Carbonized pulp, or other more specialized forms of biomass. Such was the Hive City¡¯s main export.


    Abseradon was, like most Hive Cities, a behemoth in size, but among its peers that size was wider rather than taller. Many Hive Cities pierced through their worlds¡¯ upper atmospheres, while Abseradon barely reached into its stratosphere. But Abseradon spread across all but the entirety of the sole continent of Hestia Majoris, from orbit appearing as a great mass of grey upon an otherwise turquoise world. Rain fell in perpetuity over Abseradon, Tech-Priests having engineered as such in the design of the city, as a natural form of cleansing biological waste. This also manifested in the city being ever darkened under its own storm clouds.


    In theory, the lower Underhives, with a ceiling of the upper city between them and the skies, should not have often see this rainfall, lest they be drowned in it. The streams of waste should have been filtered out to Hestia Majoris¡¯s oceans for recultivation of algae; but occasionally filters broke, and some great underground lakes of water and with islands of biomass had been known to form in the Underhives. To all the people of the city, the rainfall was seen as a form of purity, of cleansing¡ªan inverted interpretation of the Emperor¡¯s Holy Light and Cleansing Flame. Regardless, the rain was largely culturally celebrated, even if the physical effects on Abseradon¡¯s populace made them a generally dour sort. Unfortunately, much of the design of my approach to Inquisitorial operations relied on air support, and a constant deluge over Abseradon would have made that trickier.


    Nevertheless, our Bird had seen worse, as had its pilot¡ªMirena Law. Law was formerly an attack fighter pilot for the Navis Imperialis, and had dozens of accomplishments to her name. I had little doubt she was the best pilot this side of Cadia, as she so often claimed, and I relished having her as a member of my retinue. She, however, hated the Bird¡ªa Thunderhawk, a large Gunship the Inquisition had once impounded for some investigation long before my time. The vessel was far greater in size than I needed, but I figured it was better to have more room than one needed rather than less. Even so, its spacious hull was originally intended for carrying and supporting troops of the Astartes or their vehicles, of which we were both far smaller and less numerous. But its intense adamantium and ceramite hull provided ample defenses for an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, and its avionics and sensory equipment proved equally valuable to my needs. And though I had not found need nor resources for its typical bomb armament, the rest of its weapon array was fully loaded and completely operational, from its Hellstrike Missiles to its dorsal Battle Cannon. Much as she may have loathed the vessel¡¯s bulky size, Mirena certainly enjoyed having such ample weaponry to play with as the situation demanded.


    ¡°Touchdown in five minutes, please stay strapped in for landing,¡± Mirena¡¯s Verusian accent piped in over vox. Her voice carried like a dance, ebbing to and fro with poignant accentuation. It was always pleasant to hear.


    ¡°Did you have to pick such a turbulent path?¡± asked Okustin, also over vox. Proving his point, the Bird shuddered and jolted all of us in our seats.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to come to the cockpit and do better, Hans,¡± Mirena replied, chuckling. ¡°The skies may be clear as crystal but the air here is friggin¡¯ thick. A ship this size was doomed as soon as it cleared the thermosphere. Of course, you can also blame Cal for that.¡±


    ¡°How exactly is it my fault, Mirena?¡± I asked, paying some small attention to the vox chatter while keeping my main focus on Castecael, our crew¡¯s medicae, as she tried to administer acclimation supplements to my Agents. Many were reluctant, only going along when they caught my stern gaze in the landing bay. I wanted Castecael to finish up and strap in for landing, as Mirena had instructed.


    ¡°I keep asking for something more lithe and agile, sir, but you never seem to hear those requests,¡± Mirena replied.


    ¡°I hear them fine. Perhaps I can find an arrangement of such should you retire,¡± I responded, grinning. Mirena had made it very clear that she had little interest in retiring from her duties. [She] was here until [her] unnatural end, as she had once put it. Since then, the notion of her retirement was a running joke amongst my crew.


    Mirena sighed. ¡°Oh, twist the knife, sir,¡± she answered, getting a chuckle out of me and Okustin.


    To my left, Zha Trantos complied with Castecael¡¯s requests to take the supplement immediately, she understanding well the importance of interatmospheric acclimation. I did the same. ¡°Thank you, Castecael,¡± I nodded to her with a smile. ¡°Anyone left?¡± I asked as Castecael loomed over me, wrapping an arm around whatever she could find a grip on. I regretted not having her hand out the supplements sooner, for her own sake.


    ¡°Just one,¡± Castecael replied, sighing, and bobbed her head to my right, where Penitent sat a short distance away.


    ¡°She¡¯s not accepting it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No, sir, nor the goggles, even,¡± she replied, flustered, long blonde hair shielding my view of her crimson eyes. Eyes which had already tired of the day, when our day still had much to do to settle in to a new world. Castecael was an ambitious, brilliant woman, but a young and, at times, na?ve one. She had fled the bureaucracy of the Officio Medicae, seeking more active, humane means of saving lives. Her flight had brought the Medicae to seek an Inquisitorial rebuke, which is how I had found her. Unfortunately for the Medicae¡¯s vengeful desires, I took her under my wing, and Castecael¡¯s medicinal aspirations found a home.


    I looked to Penitent, and after a moment, my bodyguard turned her gaze to me. I could feel her surface-level thoughts, as though she were trying to send them my way. She felt no need for medical aid in acclimation, believing herself undeserving of such. Her quest for penance ever irked me. ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool,¡± I said aloud to her. ¡°Take what the good doctor provides for you. I will not ask again, for I cannot have my Agents operating in any state less than their maximum. Yes, even the goggles.¡± I then turned back to Castecael. ¡°Thank you for your services, doctor. Strap in soon as you can.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Cal,¡± Castecael nodded, and gingerly strolled over to Penitent after another wave of turbulence struck our Bird.


    ¡°The supplement will only suffice medicinally,¡± Zha piped up next to me, hands folded in her lap. ¡°Atmospheric density and surface humidity is likely to be very unsatisfactory.¡±


    I nodded in agreement. ¡°An unfortunate truth.¡±


    ¡°I advise masks or respirators,¡± Zha suggested.


    I nodded again. ¡°I will try to requisition some for the crew. Would you wish to remain on the Bird, Ms. Trantos?¡±


    ¡°It was my understanding that I had logistical duties to perform in-city, sir,¡± she objected.


    ¡°I could ask Silas if you¡¯d rather¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re attempting to be considerate. Thank you, Mr. Blackgar. But no, turning to Mr. Hager for the performance of my duties would be most inefficient. I will manage,¡± she replied, producing another grin from me.


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    ¡°Thank you, Ms. Trantos,¡± I nodded to her. In addition to eventually having her peruse Abseradon¡¯s records of its tithe¡ªonce I had procured them¡ªin the more immediate I had tasked her with finding some place for our crew to stay in the city, which was a logistical nightmare only a savant could begin to make sense of.


    ¡°The provisioning of my services is my pleasure, Mr. Blackgar,¡± she nodded in return, managing a smile of her own. Zha Trantos was both the youngest member of my crew, being merely 24 years of age, and the most recent addition to my outfit, having been made an Agent of mine just seven years ago. Even so, she had proven herself highly capable within such a short timeframe, and was ever polite to the point of utter innocence, even in the presence of the dark horrors of our work. At times, I envied her the carefree smile she would wear whilst tasked with more trying calculative endeavors, she being prodigious even among the presence of other savants. She had soft hazel eyes, dark, braided hair, and deep brown skin, it at times seeming as the night sky, given the right lighting. When she was working a task in her mind or on a dataslate, she would often pace in empty stoicism like a servitor. When she had something to report, she would wear that enviable grin and move with a hopping bounce to each of her steps, like an excited, eager child. She was, in a word, fun.


    Or as fun as this universe allowed.


    I reflected on my first meeting with her on Thantalus. The grimy, weak, and weary savant had been far from a cheerful sight, yet she quickly proved herself capable and a fine addition to my retinue. Had I the resources of her gifts at the time, Thantalus may have been resolved with much less bloodshed.


    But that was then.


    Now, Mirena voxxed in to everyone again. ¡°Touchdown in thirty seconds. If you¡¯re not strapped to something, your face is gonna meet the bay floor.¡±


    My thoughts turned to Castecael, who had successfully administered Penitent¡¯s supplement and thereafter had strapped herself in safely. ¡°Everyone¡¯s good, Mirena, thank you,¡± I voxxed to her. ¡°Hold off on opening the bay doors until I give the order.¡±


    ¡°Copy, sir,¡± she replied. Touchdown was sudden, and with a jolt, but comparably much less rocky than the random turbulence throughout our descent. ¡°That¡¯s touchdown. Landing bay is clear for now, but I have readings of a pedestrian craft on approach. ETA seventeen minutes, 25,000 passengers. Advise clearing bay before arrival.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. Well flown, Mirena,¡± I told her, and then unstrapped myself from my seat and rose to the bay doors before turning to my outfit, who was rising to follow me. I nodded to them before addressing them with their marching orders. ¡°Before we set out, ladies and gentlemen, there are two things to discuss. First, the nature of our operation here. I do not expect a warzone, so we are perhaps over-equipped in that regard. But it is a Hive City nevertheless. Behind me, through those doors, lie billions of people. Among them are likely dozens, if not hundreds of ruthless heretics, and millions more members of gangs, and a few thousand representatives of royal houses that would just as soon act the same part if given the chance. Be always on your guard. It would give me pleasure to drive every heretic from this city, but that is not within my remit, and we have not the time for it.


    ¡°Second, there is the matter of Hestia Majoris itself. The world is hot. Humid. Sticky. The mass-produced pulp of biomass Abseradon produces will cling to you in the air, it will form a paste upon your skin. Our time here will not be pleasant. Keep your eyes covered, and your mouth too, if you can help it. I will see about requisitioning respirators as soon as I can, but until then, I recommend covering your mouths with whatever you can. People do live here, and the air is not toxic. It will, however, be most revolting. Alright, enough of that. You all have your orders: Silas, you and your fireteam get the dock. Hans, make personal contact with the Magistratum on planet. Ms. Trantos, find us a residency. A hab if you must, though something higher off the ground is preferrable. Mirena, Castecael, stay with the Bird. I¡¯ll want you both mobile. Penitent, you¡¯re with me. Everyone ready?¡±


    A resounding ¡°Yes, sir!¡± followed, even from Castecael and Zha, neither of whom had active military experience. Mirena replied as such through vox.


    ¡°Good. Mirena, open the bay. How long until that transport gets here?¡±


    ¡°You have fourteen minutes. Better get moving. Enjoy the city, Cal!¡± she replied, chuckling to herself before lowering the bay doors. The heat and moisture hit us altogether at once as the bay opened with an audible gasp from the difference in air pressure, making everyone but Silas¡¯s fireteam¡ªwho were clothed head to toe in combat suits, with their own respirators¡ªstumble and waver. Even Penitent, who was a titan of a woman, recoiled from the immediate smell of Abseradon. Castecael, who did not need to leave the Bird, made the wise decision of heading to the cockpit to join Mirena, shying away from subjecting herself to the reeking stench that flooded the bay.


    After he motioned his fireteam out of the Bird, Silas strolled up to me, where I stood hesitant, letting the humidity fog up my goggles. ¡°You seem reluctant, sir,¡± said the expressionless, fear-inspiring skull painted over his Omnishield helmet.


    ¡°Just getting my bearings,¡± I replied dryly. Or would have, were ¡®dry¡¯ a concept that existed on this planet.


    Silas clapped me on my shoulders. ¡°One foot in front of the other, Commissar,¡± he told me, referring to my old rank in the Militarum, and then strode out after his fireteam. Okustin followed and strode through the landing bay with only minor hesitation, his once-black hair already caked with the pinkish-green moisture in the air. Penitent stood resolute at my side, albeit still as visibly uncomfortable as I was, and the once-chipper Zha hid behind us both in a futile attempt to shield herself from Hestia Majoris¡¯s surface.


    ¡°Far too warm a welcome,¡± I muttered to myself, sighing, and then strode forth as well, joined by Penitent and the reluctant Zha. As our Bird was made for the forms of the Astartes and their tanks, the bay door itself was not a small step down to the landing pad we had arrived in, and instead required a leap down, as though one were hopping out of a truck. My boots splashed in something that could barely be considered water, and then splished and sploshed their way to a nearby dock attendant, who seemed visibly panicked. ¡°Commissar Blackgar,¡± I half-lied, for the purposes of maintaining a cover, ¡°Seeking to station my craft here. Is everything in order, sir?¡±


    ¡°C-commissar?¡± the attendant asked weakly. Doubt ebbed from his form as stench wafted from the city. He did not believe me of the role I had alleged. After a quick glance around the scene, I did not need to wonder why. Though I may have looked the part of a Commissar, I was joined by a Sister Repentia, flanked by a savant, had emerged from a massive former Astartes vessel, and was in some capacity associated with the four specialized troops of the fireteam securing the landing bay¡¯s perimeter. I did not imagine this attendant knew what they were by name, necessarily, but the looks of the Tempestus Scion, Primaris Psyker, Mordian Iron Guardsman, and Harakoni Warhawk were likely alien enough to be something far too unique for a mere Commissar to command.


    ¡°Subtlety, it seems, was not my strong point,¡± I whispered to Penitent.


    Penitent managed a smile amidst the muck of the world. ¡°But you do at least know how to make an entrance.¡±


    I reached into my coat and pulled out my Rosette, brandishing it before the attendant whilst also trying¡ªand failing¡ªto shield it from the humid air. The attendant recoiled in fear. ¡°You know what this is?¡± I asked him. He nodded meekly. ¡°Then to you and your superiors I am Commissar Blackgar. Now, my vessel?¡±


    ¡°You¡­your vessel is-is-is cleared f-for permanent docking at b-bay nineteen, C-Commissar,¡± the attendant replied.


    ¡°Good man,¡± I nodded to him. ¡°You get that?¡± I asked over vox.


    ¡°Loud and shakily clear,¡± Mirena replied.


    ¡°Do you have a name?¡± I asked the still-cowering attendant.


    ¡°F-Fineas, sir.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Fineas. Enjoy the rest of your evening. And when the civilian craft behind us arrives, do try to look more composed please, hm?¡± I asked of him, not wanting to make anything seem out of the ordinary. He nodded meekly. I assumed he¡¯d be able to regain himself as soon as we got out of his landing bay. To that end, I made for the exit that Okustin had taken some time ago while typing an order to Silas via the Monitron in my arm. I then turned to Zha while Silas gathered his fireteam together. ¡°Ms. Trantos, Ms. Gao and Mr. Hager will accompany you to assist you with your duties,¡± I told her. Czevia Gao was the Mordian I had listed out, above, and though she was a woman of few¡ªand often very direct¡ªwords, she was entirely capable and trustworthy, vetted by my own hand. ¡°They will be more than capable of maintaining your safety in this city. When you have found us a place of residence, have Mr. Hager contact me. How are you holding up?¡±


    Pinching her nose, her response was soured to the point of being humorous. ¡°I confess I have not the verbiage to describe my current state of being, Mr. Blackgar. Suffice to say, in the Low Gothic, this city reeks.¡±


    ¡°Indeed it does,¡± I nodded, allowing myself a smile. Penitent failed at suppressing a laugh of her own. When Silas and his gang reached us, I took Luther Vaigg¡ªthe Harakoni¡ªand Xavier Gradshi¡ªthe Psyker¡ªback to the Bird, while Silas and Czevia escorted Zha further into the city. Playing the part of a Commissar or not, I did not want to show my Inquisitorial face any more than I needed to, and so remained on the Bird as it flew over to bay nineteen. I did not often command the individual members of Silas¡¯s fireteam, instead leaving the management thereof to him. But I needed his Monitron with Zha for the time being, and mine¡ªand some infantry firepower¡ªwith the Bird, so a split was necessary.

 Chapter 3 - Hab

    When the Bird docked at bay nineteen, I emerged from it with Luther and Xavier to scope out the hangar¡¯s surroundings. I also remained outside the Bird for longer still; Luther and Xavier would have sufficed at keeping watch, but even so, there was no harm in my assisting them. Of course, Penitent was ever by my side as well. Eventually, Castecael strolled up above me, standing on the apex of the Bird¡¯s bay door, wearing a makeshift mask she had made for herself. ¡°Why are you out here, Cal?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Acclimation,¡± I replied simply.


    She blinked twice, then shook her head and turned to Penitent. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°I go where he goes,¡± Penitent replied. Castecael looked back to me.


    ¡°Acclimation,¡± I repeated.


    ¡°Mirena was right, you¡¯re both mad,¡± Castecael shook her head.


    ¡°She should say that to my face,¡± I chuckled.


    ¡°Someday I may,¡± Mirena replied, also wearing a mask, emerging from the Bird to stand at Castecael¡¯s side. I nodded to her, and gestured over my mouth to silently ask about the mask she had. ¡°Want one?¡± I nodded. ¡°Shame, we ran out of scraps.¡±


    ¡°Then why ask?¡±


    She chuckled and shrugged. ¡°Why not?¡± Then she threw an arm around Castecael¡¯s waist. I believed, but did not know, that they were involved. One could perhaps argue that the lives of an Inquisitor¡¯s Agents were their Inquisitor¡¯s business. But I had too much respect for my crew to pry, at least until the job demanded of it. The last thing I wanted from any of them was their resentment.


    ¡°I could order you to hand yours over,¡± I suggested with a shrug.


    ¡°You could.¡±


    ¡°Would you?¡±


    ¡°I would,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°Hm,¡± I noted, but did not make the request of her, and instead looked away.


    ¡°Cal,¡± Mirena called to me. I looked to her just in time to catch some scrappy rags, she having taken her mask off. ¡°I can make do inside,¡± she grinned, though her eyes winced from the stench of the city. She then strode off to return to the cockpit. Castecael followed her, but kept her own mask.


    I offered the rags to Penitent. ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± she shook her head.


    ¡°For Zha, then, when we regroup,¡± I shrugged, and stuffed the mask into my jacket.


    ***


    Zha would not manage to procure a residency too far off the ground, instead needing to settle for a Habblock. I was less displeased than she was, and did not consider the result a failure, though it did suggest the city-stench was going to stick with us. I wagered that was the source of Zha¡¯s displeasure.


    We left the Bird on its own. There were not many in the Sector that could even pilot the thing if they wanted to steal it, and to break into it to begin with would have required an army. And furthermore, once inside, Inquisitorial symbols lined its bay. That would have been enough to scare any potential thief miles away from our vessel. I was not too concerned about it, and neither was Mirena. Mirena did ask for her mask back as we entered the city, though I declined, telling her that as she had donated it to my possession, I would see it put to better use¡ªsuch as shielding our savant.


    ¡°Surely you Navy lot aren¡¯t too afraid of a little stench,¡± Luther commented.


    ¡°Watch it, Vaigg,¡± Mirena grilled him. ¡°Easy for your birdbrain to say behind a breather.¡±


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    ¡°Cool it, you two,¡± I scolded them both, all-too intimately aware of the Astra Militarum and Navis Imperialis¡¯s rivalry. ¡°Say, Xavier, feel anything amiss?¡± I asked of our Psyker.


    ¡°Nothing but the warm breeze coming from the city, sir,¡± Xavier replied from behind his silvery steel mask, his staff echoing against the steel plating of the hangar floor as he moved. ¡®Warm breeze¡¯ was a gentle way of putting it. ¡°Anything I should be looking for in particular?¡±


    ¡°No, just curious,¡± I shrugged. I had thought to check in with my allied Psyker from time to time, and relied on his mind more than mine if given the opportunity. If there was a Warpspawn presence in Abseradon, I would have wanted to tell Scayn as soon as I knew. Of course, he had Psykers¡ªplural¡ªof his own, and likely would not have needed me and mine.


    We arrived at Habblock 119, hab 22H in just under an hour of walking. Silas and Czevia were outside, installing some surveillance equipment. ¡°Zha?¡± I asked them after a brief and mostly silent greeting.


    ¡°Inside, taking a shower,¡± Czevia replied.


    ¡°They have those here?¡± Mirena asked in genuine surprise, likely eager for one of her own after her¡ªbrief¡ªexposure to the surfaceworld.


    Silas made a noise that was probably a chuckle, though his helmet muffled it to the point of seeming like a grunt. I returned Luther and Xavier to Silas¡¯s command, while the rest of us went on inside. Sensor dampeners had already been put in place by Silas and Czevia to reduce our auditory output.


    ¡°Make yourselves at home,¡± I shrugged, gesturing to our new hab. It was not particularly spacious. The whole thing had less room than the bay of our Bird, though that was perhaps an unfair comparison. ¡°Ms. Trantos! You in here?¡± I called out. I could hear running water, though it did not sound as though the water pressure was particularly great.


    ¡°Yes, sir. Washing the city off me, though I imagine that won¡¯t stick for more than a few moments,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Procured a mask for you, when you¡¯re out,¡± I called again, glancing to Mirena, who shrugged and sat down on a couch. Castecael sat next to her.


    ¡°I am overjoyed, sir,¡± came the utterly uninspired reply from the shower.


    ¡°Castecael,¡± I started, and she stood to her feet. I held a hand up to her and shook my head. ¡°Does this residence have enough room for your necessary equipment?¡±


    She looked around for a few moments, then turned to me and nodded. ¡°Not much elbow room, but yes, I believe so, sir,¡± she reported.


    ¡°Good. You and Silas can fetch it from the Bird whenever you and he have a moment. If you need additional hands, let me know,¡± I told her. She nodded and sat back down with Mirena.


    ¡°Where will you have me, Cal?¡± Penitent asked, as ever by my side.


    ¡°Wherever you can find comfort enough in this city to perform your worship, Penitent,¡± I replied, spreading my arms wide to offer her the pick of the lot to the hab.


    ¡°Thank you, Cal,¡± she nodded, but stayed by my side for longer still.


    I paused for a moment, then added, ¡°You may begin your prayers now, if you wish. As I said, make yourself at home.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she repeated, smiling, and stepped further into the hab. She moved with such grace as to be utterly silent, even as she brought her Eviscerator with her everywhere she went. The great weapon likely weighed more than Zha did, but it did nothing to impede the Sister or add noise to her footfalls.


    As Penitent left my side, Silas and his group joined it. His fireteam made to configure other internal apparatus, though, while he stayed by me. ¡°How are we, Silas?¡±


    ¡°Encamped, sir,¡± he reported, the red eyes of his helmet beaming into my face with the white-painted skull behind them.


    ¡°Take your helmet off, Scion,¡± I said.


    He shook his head. ¡°Frankly, sir, I think I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    ¡°You should acclimate sooner rather than later,¡± I told him.


    His helmet stared at me blankly, emotionless, for a few moments. Then he reached behind it and dislodged it from his head. After he did so, and held it under his arm against his ribs, he took one long, deep breath in through his nose. ¡°Ain¡¯t that a bitch,¡± he muttered after a wincing sigh.


    ¡°Welcome to our world, chum,¡± Mirena replied. Silas nodded to her warmly, then turned back to me.


    ¡°Will there be anything else, sir?¡± he asked.


    ¡°When she¡¯s ready, assist Castecael with procuring the equipment she needs from the Bird. I¡¯ve instructed her to contact me¡ªthrough you¡ªfor additional support if required,¡± I instructed. ¡°You may wear your helmet for that journey, Silas,¡± I added with a grin.


    ¡°Throne¡¯s mercy,¡± he replied, relieved. He then turned to Castecael. ¡°At your ready, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s all the same to you, I can wait a moment,¡± Castecael told him.


    ¡°Throne knows I can, too,¡± he sighed and joined them on the couch.


    ¡°Sir?¡± Okustin spoke up from behind me. I was trying to keep vox communication to a minimum, as with billions of people in the city, someone was undoubtedly capable of cracking its encryption. But I did have to vox the location of our residency to Okustin, that he could find his way back to us. I turned to him.


    ¡°Status, Interrogator?¡±


    ¡°Master Rultrax¡ªthat¡¯ll be you¡ªhas a meeting with a Magistratum representative in four days. You will be allowed one bodyguard,¡± Okustin reported, and glanced across the room to Penitent, who was kneeling and praying to her weapon.


    I shook my head. ¡°Not her. Won¡¯t work. Are you up for it?¡± I asked him. Penitent refused to be addressed as anything other than Penitent. And she refused to wear anything more than the bindings of her faith, nor to part with her Eviscerator. A Sister Repentia was a fine bodyguard for an Inquisitor, but ruthless overkill for the halls of the Magistratum.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask, sir,¡± Okustin smiled.

 Chapter 4 - Scayn

    Posing as an Imperial Chief Bookkeeper, our visit to the Magistratum was uneventful. After a few hours of discussion, we were promised a dataslate containing records of Abseradon¡¯s tithes for the past three millennia, alongside population estimates and production estimates for the same period. The dataslate was scheduled to arrive at our Bird¡ªI did not want to give away our hab¡¯s location¡ªin six days.


    It did not wind up in our hands on the sixth day. After ten days, Okustin and I paid an uninvited return visit to the Magistratum. A few hours later, we got our dataslate. Zha could finally get to work. She had been eager to put her mind to something other than cataloguing the various chemical compositions she sniffed out of the air. Three thousand years of population and production data for a city whose known population numbered in the dozens of billions and churned out mass-quantities of biomass for advanced Imperial processing¡ªan impossible task for any ordinary man, or even a team likewise, to even begin to comprehend.


    Zha assured me she would sift through it all and have a report ready in a few weeks.


    In the meantime, the rest of us found absolutely nothing to do to keep us occupied. Some of my crew asked Zha if they could help her with anything. A response never came. While focused on her work, it was near impossible to get her to think of anything else, including of her surroundings. She called it Computational Isolationism. We had spent a year and a half practicing to get her to react to my voice saying her name mid-computation. And let me tell you, finding enough material to keep Zha occupied for a year and a half for such practice had nearly emptied the Sector of data.


    From time to time I thought of plumbing the depths of the Underhive for heretics I knew to be there, but thought it unwise. Not for my personal safety, mind you. But I did not want to draw undue attention to myself, both for the sake of this investigation nor from my colleagues in the Inquisition. Moreover, if I started snooping around in Scayn¡¯s work, I ran the risk of stepping on his toes or, worse, endangering his operatives.


    But as fate would have it, Scayn would find his way to me. Eighteen days after Zha began her work on the dataslate, and thus a full month since our arrival in Abseradon, proximity sensors placed around our hab triggered in the evening. Silas alerted me of the occurrence, though his instincts told him it was likely nothing. Xavier, on the other hand, believed otherwise. ¡°We have a visitor,¡± he declared without prompt, drawing eyes upon him. His garnering attention was not uncommon, being a Primaris Psyker.


    Several seconds passed. Then, a knock at the door. I wondered what the point of the proximity sensors was while we had Xavier¡¯s presence. ¡°Gao, you¡¯re up,¡± Silas commanded, readying his lasgun¡ªsorry, his Ryza-pattern Hellgun; he is often quite insistent I get that right¡ªand flanked Czevia as she answered the door to the hab. Czevia opened the door barely enough to give Silas a clear shot, but not nearly enough to give our guest much of a view into the hab.


    ¡°Greetings¡ªyou are Ms. Czevia Gao, correct?¡± asked a slumrat. Even amongst the stench of the city, I could smell the origins of our visitor.


    Curtly, Czevia replied, ¡°Who¡¯s asking?¡±


    ¡°Oh, polite of you to ask. My name is Val Eracian. You can call me Val,¡± said the young girl. From the tone of her voice, I guessed she was barely a teenager, if that. That didn¡¯t imply too much¡ªUnderhive gangs employed child soldiers all the time. ¡°But more promptly, I am a neighbor of Mr. Scayn. He asked me to find a Mr. Blackgar and give him this funny disc thing. It talks!¡± the girl exclaimed, and held out a hand holding a small voxcaster.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s for me, then,¡± I grinned, stepping up to the scene. ¡°Thank you both,¡± I told Czevia and Silas, putting a hand on their shoulders to have them stand down while I made for the door. I then knelt in front of Val, who as I suspected, was an unwashed, famished slumrat of a kid. ¡°I¡¯m Mr. Blackgar. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Eracian. Tell me, did Mr. Scayn tell you anything about tomorrow¡¯s weather?¡±


    ¡°Funny you mention it, he did, as I was leaving!¡± she said excitedly. ¡°He said it¡¯d be raining. I do love the rain.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, he¡¯s eerily good at predicting that, so I should imagine you¡¯ll get to see some rain,¡± I replied, and her smile widened. This suggested she spent much of her time in the Underhives, where the endless rain of Abseradon perhaps did not find her often. I took the voxcaster from her. ¡°Did you come here alone?¡±


    ¡°I did! I¡¯m very good at navigating the streets down here. Mr. Scayn said I have a talent for it!¡± she nodded, still smiling happily.


    ¡°And did Mr. Scayn tell you where we were, or did you find out on your own?¡±


    ¡°He told me.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I nodded, which still irked me all the same. Somehow, he knew where we had wound up, though I had until then been very confident in how we had covered our tracks. ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll be able to find your way home on your own, Ms. Eracian, or should I provide an escort for you?¡±


    ¡°Of course I know how to get home, silly! Hab 9 isn¡¯t too far from here at all!¡± she replied, which put a grin on my face. On the one hand, Habblock 9 was actually some good distance from us¡ªprobably two hours, if we were trying to be subtle, which a child likely would not have been. On the other hand, now I knew where Scayn was, and he didn¡¯t know I knew.


    ¡°Well, thank you very much for delivering this to me, Ms. Eracian. Here, for your efforts,¡± I started, reaching into my coat, and gave her a pair of thrones. It was likely more money that she would otherwise see in her lifetime, but a pittance to me. I would not have minded giving her more, but provide her with too much and questions start getting asked. Regardless, her eyes went wide with excitement, and happily scurried off after thanking me greatly.


    ¡°The big bad Inquisitor has such a way with kids,¡± Silas taunted as I turned back around, closing the door behind me.


    ¡°Shut up. Go reset the prox sensors,¡± I told him, and he nodded before heading off to do so. I then turned to the vox in my hand, and turned it on. ¡°Endangering kids in our work seems beneath you, Thaddeus,¡± I said to it.


    ¡°Oh how na?ve you are even still, Cal,¡± Scayn returned, laughing, his voice slightly garbled through the com. ¡°That kid is likely safer on the streets than any of our lot would be. I do hope you gave her a good tip, as I taught you.¡±


    ¡°What do you want, Thaddeus? I¡¯m very busy,¡± I told him, and could not help but to smirk at my blatant lie.


    ¡°Oh, we both know that savant of yours is doing the heavy lifting for you right now,¡± Scayn laughed. ¡°I just wanted to reach out, friend to friend, is all.¡±


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    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°Maybe invite you over for a drink?¡±


    ¡°Yeah? How¡¯s the view?¡±


    ¡°Like a sunrise on Devin 7,¡± he replied. Among our various ciphers, such as asking Ms. Eracian about the weather, the sunrise of Devin 7 was another. It was a bit of a joke¡ªthere was no sun for Devin 7¡ªits star had gone out millennia ago, and it was now a dead world. His providing the cipher told me he genuinely just wanted to meet, and was not being coerced. ¡°If you¡¯re so inclined, take the girl with you.¡±


    ¡°Eracian? She¡¯s already left.¡±


    ¡°No, not my neighbor, you fool,¡± Scayn laughed. ¡°Penitent. She¡¯s never not by your side. I see no reason to separate you for a gathering of friends.¡±


    ¡°What is this really about, Thaddeus?¡±


    ¡°Just a social visit.¡±


    ¡°And if I say no?¡±


    He paused. I sensed he had more to say¡ªmuch more¡ªbut was holding his tongue over the vox channel that he worried¡ªas I did¡ªmay have had other listeners. After a bit of hesitation, he replied, ¡°I¡¯d be sorely heartbroken.¡±


    I paused from that response as well. There was no cipher to it. But it sounded genuine, and very melancholic. Most unlike my eccentric, eager mentor. I thought for a moment, then nodded to myself. ¡°Can¡¯t have that. I hope you have Gleece.¡±


    ¡°But of course, my friend!¡± Scayn exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯m in¡ª¡±


    ¡°Habblock 9. Children, Thaddeus, tsk tsk,¡± I chided him. ¡°See you in a few,¡± I added, then turned the vox off. I thought for a few moments, considering possible scenarios and methods of approach. Something was very obviously off. But if I brought my whole team to his hab, in the best case I¡¯d blow his cover. In the worst case, his cover was already blown, and the both of us would be sitting ducks in our entirety. ¡°Penitent!¡± I called through our hab. ¡°Get your sword.¡±


    ¡°Cal?¡± she asked, arising from prayer.


    ¡°We¡¯re going for drinks, you and I.¡± I then strolled through the hab to Okustin. ¡°Have you been listening in?¡± I asked him, finding him toying with a vox-amplifier of his own.


    ¡°Every word, sir,¡± he nodded.


    ¡°If Penitent and I aren¡¯t back in six hours, get the crew on the Bird and leave to orbit. I¡¯ll Monitron Silas when I can, should it come to it,¡± I instructed him.


    ¡°And if you can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Head to the Conclave off Quintus. Return with the Ordo, and let them take it from there,¡± I told him. Quintus was a largely unimportant, unassuming world. Which is why there was an Ordo Hereticus Conclave station in geostationary orbit above it, with a full fleet of supporting starcraft.


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± he nodded.


    ***


    Habblock 9 was like any other Habblock, though it was nearer to the Underhive¡ªand thus more foul-smelling¡ªthan our own residency. Penitent and I made it there in just under two hours. We were careful, but there were not too many people on the streets, which was odd for a Hive City. On only one occasion, she and I needed play the part of lovers to shield our otherwise-militaristic presence (namely, her Eviscerator) from the view of some passerby on our journey¡ªI had assumed we would have needed to do so more often. For a Sister Repentia, mouth-to-mouth contact was forbidden, and I was not about to violate her order¡¯s beliefs, but we went through the motions as closely as she was willing to, which still proved closer than I had expected of her. The act proved passable enough to not draw us much attention. So we carried on.


    Once at Habblock 9, finding Scayn¡¯s specific hab¡ª11B¡ªwas easy. It was the one with some subtle, unintrusive defenses and reconnaissance devices surrounding it. When you know what to look for from a friend, finding them is not hard. After a double-knock on the door, it opened to reveal a far more militarized and orderly setup than our hab featured. Two Guardsmen had their weapons trained on us immediately, and a third deeper in the room manned a heavy bolter installation pointed directly at the door.


    I turned to Scayn, who was nearby and encouraging his troops to let us in, and asked, ¡°Expecting someone else?¡±


    ¡°Rough neighborhood. Can¡¯t be too careful,¡± he grinned. ¡°Undertone,¡± he added, requesting we speak in code. He felt he was being listened to.


    ¡°Sure. You got my Gleece?¡± I nodded, stepping further into the hab. Penitent followed. Being a more senior Inquisitor, Scayn¡¯s retinue numbered forty-four to my ten¡ªmyself included. He had six Interrogators to my one, of which I had already met Malkyle. Five others were working with Malkyle on some device I was unfamiliar with; Ordo Malleus stuff, I assumed. While Scayn¡¯s private army certainly had a numbers advantage over mine, his was filled with very generic, ¡®easy-pickings¡¯ as I had once taunted him. Mine, on the other hand, was filled with more elite members of the Imperium, and if I had to bet on a survivor of a hypothetical rivalry between us, I was not much concerned.


    ¡°Just ran dry, I¡¯m afraid,¡± he shook his head, but handed me a glass anyway. Undertone.


    I took the glass and shrugged. ¡°Shame. All this way for nothing.¡±


    ¡°I hear the sky is serving,¡± Scayn offered.


    ¡°Strange tidings,¡± I replied. He had suggested I pack my things and leave Abseradon; no, Hestia Majoris as a whole. I told him I did not understand. ¡°Why not start there?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d receive.¡±


    ¡°And you think I will now?¡±


    ¡°Worth a shot,¡± he shrugged.


    I paused for a minute, then set the glass of Gleece on a nearby table. ¡°Who?¡±


    Scayn tipped his head to the side and rolled his eyes, looking on at me with disappointment. He would not answer that.


    ¡°Well they must hold some brewing power, withholding my drink from you and all,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°They do. They don¡¯t have the sky yet.¡±


    ¡°Yet?¡±


    ¡°Your questions are hard, my friend,¡± Scayn sighed. Hard meant dangerous.


    ¡°Hard questions for a hard day of work,¡± I shrugged. ¡°You think they could get the sky?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Given the time? Probably from here to the wall, or more,¡± he replied. The wall was Cadia. Whoever had brought my friend to this state, he believed they could take everything between here and Cadia, and maybe even further. That was an impossible task. Not even the arch-enemy could manage that, and they had tried.


    ¡°Seems you should get some air,¡± I suggested, telling him to leave too.


    ¡°Nah, too much mud on my shoes. Gotta clean `em first,¡± he replied. He would be followed if he left. ¡°Yours look clean, though. Don¡¯t let me dirty them.¡±


    Something in me snapped, the idea that my mentor was worried about me even then perhaps being too much for me to take well. +Who?+ I repeated, this time not uttering the question from my mouth. His hab felt it, felt me, my mind. The question would not have worked on Scayn, but maybe one of his Acolytes was both weaker-willed and privy to the info I sought.


    ¡°Blackgar!¡± Scayn shouted, fire in his eyes as he stepped up to me. ¡°I think you should go,¡± he sneered, but all the same, a tear rolled down his left cheek. That infuriated me even more.


    ¡°Not without my drink,¡± I shot back. ¡°Who should I ask for one?¡±


    Scayn brought in one long, trying breath. Then exhaled. Then he seemed to change the subject. ¡°How are your numbers looking?¡± He was asking about the task Zha was assigned to, which I had not even thought of since the call over the vox.


    ¡°Should tally up soon. Know what I should find at the end?¡±


    ¡°I have a hunch,¡± he shrugged.


    I leaned in to Scayn and gave him a more direct message, one only he could hear. +Tell me.+ He shook his head. ¡°You know me, my friend,¡± I warned him, and stepped away from him.


    ¡°All too well,¡± he nodded solemnly.


    ¡°I gotta get my drink somehow,¡± I laughed, but there was anger on my lips.


    ¡°Drinking habits can get people hurt,¡± he warned me in turn.


    ¡°What sort of people?¡±


    ¡°The ones close to you.¡±


    ¡°Do you drink?¡± I asked. He nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t feel too hurt.¡±


    Not yet, he mouthed to me. ¡°You should really see the sky, Cal. I¡¯d be heartbroken if you didn¡¯t. The city is¡­suffocating.¡±


    I stared at him a long time, then. So long that Penitent tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was alright. I nodded to her, then turned back to Scayn. ¡°The heartbroken line only works once a night, friend. I¡¯m gonna see if I can find an open bar. Really think you should get some air, Thaddeus.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Cal,¡± Scayn nodded to me, another tear rolling down his cheek. ¡°Watch him, Penitent. He knows not of what he seeks,¡± he warned my bodyguard.


    ¡°I will, Inquisitor,¡± she nodded, and walked with me out of Scayn¡¯s hab. A single step out of the door, and I paused to look up at the towering megalith that was Abseradon proper. Something impossibly sinister was here, right beneath my feet. Something so great in scope that it could scare the best Inquisitor I knew, and make him speak insanity like suggesting that a Hive a billion miles away could threaten Cadia. Were it some great and terrible daemon, it would have made some sense, perhaps. But a single creature of such magnitude would have been abundantly obvious to see. Such a thing could not be! Then again¡­


    ¡­Thaddeus Scayn had seen it.

 Chapter 5 - Vindicare

    My colleagues wanted to know how my drink with Scayn was. They got all they needed to know from the look I gave Silas as I told him I wanted him and his unit battle-ready in sixty seconds at a moment¡¯s notice. Silas assured me that would happen. His assurance did little to assuage my dread.


    I thought of little else for the next three days. Mirena tried to cheer me up now and again, or otherwise tried to get me to talk, to no success. ¡°Fine, brood,¡± she shrugged, giving up after the third day. That at least got a grin from me, if only for a moment.


    During the later-afternoon of the fourth day, during my continual brooding, I heard from Zha for the first time in weeks. ¡°All done!¡± she suddenly exclaimed, and wore her ever-enviable grin as she hopped across the hab to stand before me. ¡°Mr. Blackgar, sir, I have absorbed all the data as presented, and am ready to answer any questions you have. Ask away,¡± she told me, bringing some measure of happiness to our dreary abode.


    ¡°Thank you, Ms. Trantos,¡± I nodded to her, then heaved out a heavy sigh as I tried to change gears. As hard a task for me, then, as it would have been for her. ¡°Give me a report on Abseradon¡¯s tithe. Is it off the mark from what they owe?¡±


    ¡°It is, sir,¡± she confirmed, nodding.


    ¡°By how much?¡±


    ¡°They appear to be tithing 0.032% too many personnel,¡± she reported.


    I nodded, doing some quick math in my head, then frowned. ¡°Wait, too many?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir¡ªtheir population reports suggest they have been giving more bodies to the Imperial Guard than they are required to. A few thousand more. 15,048 more, on average for the last eighteen years, to be precise,¡± she replied.


    ¡°And what about their resource provision?¡±


    ¡°They are off on that, too, sir. They are providing 0.94% less biomass to the Imperium than they ought to be, based on what they are producing,¡± she answered, still smiling.


    ¡°Where is it going?¡± I muttered to myself.


    ¡°I am afraid that was not in the data, sir,¡± Zha frowned.


    I chuckled. ¡°I know, Ms. Trantos, the question was not for you. You mentioned the tithe was off for the last eighteen years. Before that?¡±


    ¡°Nominal.¡±


    ¡°Perfectly so?¡±


    ¡°Within rounding error, yes, for the past three millennia,¡± she confirmed.


    ¡°And the biomass?¡±


    ¡°Identical temporal configuration of irregularities, sir,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Say, Ms. Trantos, your population data wouldn¡¯t happen to include rates of missing persons, would it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It does indeed, sir,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°Has there been an uptick in missing persons on Abseradon over the last eighteen years?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°Adjusting for natural population growth?¡± she sought to clarify. I nodded. She thought about it for a moment, doing unknowably complex calculations with unfathomably large values in her head. ¡°I believe so, sir. Reports of missing persons seem to be rising from year to year per capita, peaking in the last reported year,¡± she described.


    ¡°Where are they going?¡± I asked myself, then immediately, as Zha opened her mouth, clarified, ¡°Not for you to answer.¡± She smiled and nodded. Whatever Scayn was on to, I was convinced my path was leading me to his. I think he had just discovered as such himself, which is why he called for the meeting, knowing I would stumble upon what he had. I would, regrettably, need to get answers out of him, by force if necessary. ¡°Silas, ready your team. Nonlethal operation,¡± I told him.


    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± he nodded, and left the room from behind me. I turned back to Zha.


    ¡°Ms. Trantos, are there any other production irregularities over the last eighteen years, besides the biomass?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°There are!¡± she exclaimed happily. ¡°Though they are fractionally less significant.¡±


    ¡°Enumerate them for me,¡± I requested.


    Zha opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Okustin, who called to me from across the room. ¡°Sir, something you need to know,¡± he demanded.


    Urgent as it sounded, I was a little annoyed my question had been denied an answer. I turned to him, mildly irate, and chastised him, ¡°In the middle of a debriefing, Interrogator.¡± He shook his head slowly. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Arbites vox chatter,¡± he started, holding up his amplifier. ¡°Habblock 9 was hit by gang warfare. Mass casualties.¡±


    I shot to my feet, blood suddenly on fire. ¡°Silas!¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡± he called from elsewhere in the hab.


    ¡°Lethal! Sixty seconds!¡± I turned to the rest of the hab. ¡°Everyone up! We¡¯re moving out. You have sixty to prepare.¡± I looked to Okustin. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a gang.¡±


    ¡°I know, sir.¡±


    ¡°Bring your laspistol.¡±


    ***


    The carnage was immediately atrocious. Arbites Officers were trying to keep thousands of onlookers at bay, barely hanging on for their lives. Those that had been inside the `block were trying to cower behind medicae vehicles to puke. My group pushed through the crowd with relative ease¡ªan Inquisitorial Rosette over your head will do that. +Aside.+ I told the first officer I came upon at the line between order and chaos, speaking into his head while holding the Rosette before his face. He flushed white as ceramite, and practically jumped to his left.


    After nearing the Habblock proper, I called out to the dozens, if not hundreds, of officers around me, using my vox to blast the message out of Okustin¡¯s amp. ¡°WHO IS THE OFFICER IN CHARGE?¡± I asked, and then held my Rosette higher for all to see. Or, I tried to. A gurney wheeled by, ignoring me entirely, while carrying the top half of Malkyle to a medicae vehicle, and my arm slipped down a bit. +NOW.+ I sent the message to everyone.


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    ¡°That¡¯s me, sir, Captain Trelos,¡± a local Arbites replied, stepping up to me. He was visibly shaken, and I do not believe it was from my presence alone. ¡°How can we assist you, Inquisitor?¡±


    ¡°Put every body back where you found it. And get me to 11B. How many casualties, officer?¡± I instructed of him.


    ¡°H-how many?¡± he stammered, but began leading us through the swarm of police.


    ¡°Throne, man! How many!¡± I roared.


    ¡°A-all of them, sir,¡± he weakly replied, and then reached for a sizable vox unit on his torso. ¡°Put the bodies back, men.¡±


    ¡°The bodies back? What does that even mean?¡± came a garbled reply.


    ¡°Frigging do it, sergeant!¡± the Captain shouted back.


    ¡°What do you mean by all of them, Captain?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°A-all. I-I mean¡­everyone¡¯s dead, Inquisitor. The whole `block. N-no survivors. There were thousands, tens of thousands that lived here¡­dead,¡± the Captain replied, choking on his own words. ¡°Oh, Throne,¡± he wavered, and then hunched over and threw up.


    ¡°Castecael, see to the Captain,¡± I ordered her, and stomped by the feeble officer. ¡°Stay with her, Czevia. Everyone else on me, weapons front.¡± The rest of my group followed in my footsteps, weapons out and ready to flatten anything that got in our way.


    The smell of death in Habblock 9 overpowered any other pungent order in the city. To say that the Habblock¡¯s walkways and catwalks were rivers of blood would have been an understatement. Every body part and human organ imaginable was strewn out across miles¡¯ worth of the dense Hive residency. Were the location not of sentimental value to me, I would have been concerned for Penitent, who waded through it all in bare feet while we marched on in bloodied boots. But there was nothing on my mind but depthless rage. I had seen daemons rip men to shreds, Orks reduce regiments of Guardsmen to paste.


    I had never seen anything like the Abseradon Massacre, as it would later be known. And neither had any world within a hundred light-years of here, either.


    The road to 11B was paved in blood and sinew. I almost didn¡¯t want to enter the hab upon arriving at it. But I knew I had to. I stepped inside, and found a dozen local Arbites officers picking through my once-friends. A short distance across the room, Scayn laid upon his face. Even if not for the odd wound on the back of his head, he¡¯d have drowned from the depth of the blood-puddle he was resting in.


    +EVERYONE OUT.+ I commanded, and no Arbites in the room was capable of withstanding my will. They silently raced past me, abandoning what they had been working on without objection, my psykanic command obliterating whatever prior orders they had received.


    ¡°Cal, I am so, so sorry,¡± Mirena whimpered from behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder, as did Penitent. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to reply. I was staring at Scayn, unable to tear my eyes from him.


    ¡°Vaigg, see to the door. No one gets in, unless it¡¯s Castecael and Czevia,¡± I ordered him. I rarely gave him direct orders, and never had I addressed him by his last name.


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± he nodded and left as instructed.


    ¡°We¡¯ll nail the bastards that did this to the friggin¡¯ wall, sir,¡± Silas declared solemnly.


    ¡°The girl was his neighbor,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°What was that, sir?¡±


    ¡°Val Eracian was his neighbor,¡± I repeated, louder. Even Silas Hager¡¯s weapon fell a bit toward the ground, then. ¡°I am of half a mind to declare Exterminatus here and now. More than half a mind. But the Inquisition would have my head for doing so to a Hive City, and so soon after Thantalus,¡± I grumbled. I then strolled deeper into the hab, kneeling down in the blood next to my former mentor. ¡°I must break your heart, sir. I owe you a drink. Whoever did this, my friend, I will deny them the sky. Your sky. Rest well, Thaddeus Scayn,¡± I whimpered, and then said a solemn prayer to the Throne, though this scene was far too vile for the Throne to look upon. I then weakly rose to my feet, and while still staring at my mentor, asked, ¡°Trantos, how many people lived here?¡±


    I had never heard her stumble before, as she did then. ¡°I-I think¡­I mean¡­thirty¡­33,109, sir,¡± she reported.


    ¡°They killed 33,108, just because of what one person knew,¡± I told my group. ¡°They couldn¡¯t risk that anyone in the whole `block may have heard even a fragment of information Scayn uttered.¡± I then looked to them. ¡°We are ten people. Ten. We are dealing with a force that killed three thousand for every one of us. If you wish to turn away from this, I can¡¯t blame you, nor will I censure you. I wish to leave, even,¡± I muttered then, and looked back at Scayn.


    ¡°No one is going anywhere, Cal,¡± Mirena shook her head. ¡°If you¡¯re here, we¡¯re here.¡±


    I paused for a moment, then looked back to them. ¡°Then to the friggin¡¯ wall,¡± I said, agreeing with Silas. ¡°Hager, here,¡± I ordered him. He obliged, looking upon Scayn while he made the short journey across the hab. ¡°Trantos, Okustin, start looking around. See what you can learn. Gradshi, Law, Penitent, secure the hab. Hager,¡± I started, turning to him. ¡°Entry wound.¡±


    ¡°Looks like a las shot, sir. An odd one, though,¡± Silas replied, referring to the seared flesh on the back of Scayn¡¯s head.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Do you recognize the lasrifle pattern?¡± he asked me.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a las shot,¡± I replied. ¡°Help me get him up,¡± I told him, and together we knelt into the blood and lifted Scayn to a sitting position. The same sort of seared flesh contorted his face as an exit wound.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a las shot,¡± Silas agreed, shaking his head. ¡°And where did it come¡ª¡± he started, but I gestured to the back wall behind Scayn. The rockcrete wall was warped in a small area, appearing melted. ¡°Advanced energy weapon?¡± he suggested.


    ¡°No,¡± I shook my head, and reluctantly abandoned Scayn¡¯s body for the time being. ¡°Follow me.¡± Silas did so. As I strolled through the hab, I pointed to a wall opposite Scayn, at an angle from where we found him. The rockcrete was again warped and melted in a small circle, forming a slight spiral pattern. A bit of distance through the hab, on the other side of that wall along the same angle, another warping. And another opposite that wall, at the edge of 11B. I telekinetically crushed an exit for us along our path, that we could continue our journey. Some officers got in our way, clearly upset that I had commanded them out of Scayn¡¯s hab. +DON¡¯T.+ I warned them, and they backed off, whether they wanted to or not.


    Some distance away from 11B, at 13C, we found another rockcrete warping along the same path. I again crushed an entrance into the hab, where we found more bloodshed. We trudged onward, until after crushing another wall and tossing it aside, adjacent to another warping, our path ended¡ªthe hab exited out to open air. ¡°You know what this is, sir?¡±


    ¡°Monitron,¡± I told Silas. He nodded, and I began typing to him while standing at his side, overlooking the city from the hab¡¯s view. {<u>Vindicare Assassin. Exitus Rifle shot, Turbo-Penetrator Round. Molecular structure fused at extreme velocity.</u>}


    {<u>You once told me the Vindicare answered to the Inquisition.</u>}


    {<u>The Ordo Sicarius, yes, and the Senatorum Imperialis.</u>}


    {<u>What are we dealing with, sir?</u>}


    ¡°Something new,¡± I replied aloud. ¡°Or very old. You don¡¯t share this with anyone, not even Okustin. It is too dangerous to know. Should an Inquisitor probe your mind, you will let yourself die before revealing what I just told you.¡±


    ¡°Unquestionably, sir,¡± he nodded. ¡°Where to from here?¡±


    ¡°Zha,¡± I answered, and together Silas and I strode back to 11B, where I then approached my savant. ¡°What do you know?¡±


    ¡°Lasrifles, autocannons, heavier armaments I am unfamiliar with. Explosives. Chain and Power weapons. Signs of chemical and biological weaponry. This was human-performed,¡± Zha reported, confidence returning to her voice.


    ¡°I¡¯ve regrettably come to the same conclusion,¡± Okustin agreed.


    ¡°Mirena, fetch Castecael, Czevia, and the Captain. Tell him to bring me a cogitator,¡± I told her. She nodded and left the scene. ¡°Penitent,¡± I started, calling her to me. She neared, and put a hand on my shoulder encouragingly. ¡°Thank you. I will be asking the impossible of you in this.¡±


    ¡°I will answer,¡± she assured me.


    ¡°I may¡­it is not beyond the realm of possibility that I need to interrogate those of your order. How does that sit with you?¡±


    ¡°Cal, I have sworn myself to you. If that is what you need to do, I will force my Sisters into the chair before you,¡± she replied.


    I nodded, smiling. ¡°Thank you. All of you, thank you. It is going to get hard from here.¡± Dangerous. ¡°The most regrettable part of my job is needing to put good men and women in harm¡¯s way to do it. I cannot guarantee your survival, or even a merciful end.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you ask this already, sir?¡± Okustin shook his head, crossing his arms. ¡°We¡¯re not going anywhere.¡±


    ¡°And I shall ask the Throne that you not come to regret that decision, Hans.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Canoness

    It took some doing to clean my attire of the gore accrued in Habblock 9. While not remotely within her remit, Penitent offered to handle that for me while I pursued possible leads. The presence of a Vindicare Assassin on-world, coupled with Scayn¡¯s own sense of worry, suggested powers at play well above my own, and there were not many in the universe to whom that applied. Sure, it was not unheard of for party politics to result in one Inquisitor targeting another for personal¡ªand heretical, to be clear¡ªgain, possibly involving the Assassinorum in the process. But a rival Inquisitor would not have so-terrified Thaddeus Scayn, and if he knew a Vindicare was on to him, he certainly would have had the resources to better defend himself.


    This told me that he did not know a Vindicare was on his tail. It told me that there was more at stake on Abseradon than mere politics. And it told me that those behind the Abseradon Massacre possessed power and authority comparable to that of my ordo, if not¡ªperish the thought¡ªbeyond. All of this in mind, I took to the cogitator that Captain Trelos provided to me. One could not simply look up Inquisitors present on a planet¡ªwe were much too adept at hiding for that. But one could, with some know-how, look for clues of an Inquisitorial presence. One could also have their savant do the looking, with heuristics provided by the wisdom of oneself. That proved most efficient, though I had to hold my tongue to prevent Zha from learning anything of the Assassinorum.


    Through the course of two sleepless days of research¡ªI do pity Ms. Trantos that, though she was more than accommodating for my zeal¡ªI had deduced the presence of a minimum of seven potential Inquisitors on Hestia Majoris, myself not included. I will not reveal how I found my colleagues in the Inquisition¡ªthat information is far too sensitive for even Silas to know. Over the subsequent two weeks, Okustin¡ªworking with Silas and his fireteam¡ª¡®procured¡¯ me a meeting with each of those supposed Inquisitors. Five of them actually were Inquisitors, and the other two were simply very good at looking the part. Or they were so good at their jobs that even I could not conclusively deduce their real identity. And as Xavier, having been present within the radius of my psykana, could tell you, I certainly tried.


    None of the seven had anything relevant to tell me, caught up in other atrocities¡ªin the case of the Inquisitors¡ªof their own on Abseradon. I did not keep my colleagues from their duties long, but from there I did cast a wider net. A search of rogue traders was easier, and I could do that myself, sparing Zha further tire. Rogue traders had financial resources to do theoretically anything, especially where the heretic was concerned, but they also needed to communicate with on-world and interplanetary Navy forces to establish trade-routes without being shot out of the skies.


    Thirty-six rogue traders were present on the world on the day of the massacre. Of those, only thirteen still remained, the rest having moved on over the course of my interrogation of the Inquisitor-apparent. Even if I wanted to chase one of them at random, the odds of me following their trail with any accuracy were slim. Sure, I could have found them eventually, perhaps after several years¡ªsuch was my duty, after all. But I did not see it being particularly prudent to leave Abseradon either. I would make a note to check on any traders that left and then returned, as though fleeing the crime until things cooled down, but I got the sense from Scayn that whatever he had uncovered was very local to Hestia Majoris.


    So over the next month, I coordinated with the local Arbites and the system¡¯s Naval forces to detain and interrogate¡ªwell, Okustin handled the interrogations¡ªwhat rogue traders I could. That amounted to ten of them, with three managing to stay under the radar even to me¡ªnot entirely surprising; the final three were still on-world, just simply not doing anything of import. The Navy would tell me if they found their ships trying to leave the system. Of the ten rogue traders I interrogated, none provided anything of value.


    Regrettably, I had to cast yet a wider net. I was not pleased with where I was next forced to look. It was around this time, six weeks into my investigation, that doubts began to creep in. What if the Massacre was merely gang activity, and the Vindicare just happened to be there from a rival Inquisitor or political opponent? An idiotic question¡ªScayn¡¯s forces could have handled an Underhive gang with ease, and even the local Arbites could have found and terminated the gang responsible for the atrocity that had hit the city. All the same, the doubt was there, nagging at me.


    I cast a wider net.


    ***


    She protested the entire way to my hab, or so Okustin claimed. I had no cause to doubt him, as once she was present in the hab, she continued her protests. ¡°This is utterly preposterous, dragging me down into the mud where I could be doing the Throne¡¯s work higher in the city, and without my staff!¡± The Canoness shouted, flustered, as she was escorted through our hab by Silas and Okustin. ¡°Which one of you idiots is the Inquisitor? Does he have any idea who I am? Who I represent? We¡¯re on the same side, they and I.¡±


    ¡°Yes, one would think we are,¡± Penitent told her, stepping into the interrogation room behind the Canoness while Okustin closed the doors behind my bodyguard. I was already present, though I was trying to stay relatively hidden in an intentionally-made shadow in the corner of the room.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Sister Repentia, I know not what brings you here, but it is not your place to address me,¡± the Canoness replied, scoffing, and looked around the room. She saw me, or a gleam of my suit, and beamed at me. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯re doing, Inquisitor. It is not merely a matter of rank, but of the political ramifications of even beginning to investigate one of my order. Your superiors will have your head for this.¡±


    I said nothing.


    Penitent sat at the table between herself and the Canoness. ¡°What is your name?¡± she asked her Sister.


    ¡°Did I not just rebuke you for this, Sister?¡± the Canoness shook her head, then returned to staring me down.


    Penitent repeated the question a second time. ¡°What is your name?¡±


    The Canoness did not look at her, and instead chastised me once more. ¡°You not only damn yourself, but you compound whatever sin brought her to your charge. Are you daft?¡±


    ¡°My Agent asked you a question,¡± I growled.


    ¡°I must not have heard it,¡± she sneered in reply. ¡°Could you repeat it?¡± she asked of me. But Penitent, loyal as ever, spoke for me.


    ¡°What is your name?¡±


    ¡°What is yours?¡± she asked me.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± Penitent repeated a fourth time.


    Silence.


    For the cogitators recording audio in the room, the silence persisted. But those present would tell you that my reply was not merely spoken, but roared.


    +WITHIN THESE WALLS, CANONESS GALATENA AMELIA, I AM THE WHOLE OF YOUR IMPERIUM.  MY AGENTS ARE AN EXTENSION OF MY WILL, AND I AM AN EXTENSION OF THE THRONE.  WHEN THEY ASK A QUESTION, YOU WILL HEAR IT IN MY VOICE AND ANSWER AS THOUGH BEFORE OUR GOD-EMPEROR, OR I WILL CAST YOU TO DAMNATION.+


    A pause, as blood fell from my nose and through clenched teeth. Penitent was shaking. The Canoness had fallen to the ground and begun whimpering, broken. I emerged from the shadows of the corner and placed a gentle hand upon Penitent¡¯s shoulder, helping to ground her. ¡°An Inquisitor has died in this city. Short of the Emperor¡¯s Angels, there is not a soul in this city that we are unwilling to interrogate, and even angels such as they may be suspect. The Inquisition will not be patient with this investigation. Am I clear?¡± I asked aloud, calmly, but rigid. The Canoness nodded with marked enthusiasm.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± Penitent repeated.


    ¡°C-Canoness Galatena Amelia,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Of which Command?¡± Penitent continued.


    ¡°112<sup>th</sup> Commandery, Fourth Preceptory,¡± Sister Amelia answered at once. This was information we already knew about her, of course. But establishing a baseline, both for the sake of conversation and the sake of the recording of the cogitators, was important nevertheless.


    ¡°Let me know if I need to return, Penitent,¡± I told her, clapping a hand on her shoulder again, and then left the room, noting the frost my psykana had built up along the walls as I departed. I knew the Sororitas well, as their Order was closely intertwined with my own, but Penitent knew far more than I ever would about her Sisters¡¯ activities. I could trust her to get everything I needed from Sister Amelia.


    Outside the interrogation room, everyone else¡ªeven Xavier¡ªwas a bit shaken up themselves. ¡°Could do with some warning next time, sir,¡± Silas remarked, trying to smile.


    ¡°Would it have helped?¡± I asked, sighing, and crossed the room to sit on a steel chair.


    Silas shrugged. ¡°I suppose not.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m tired, Silas,¡± I sighed again, and then put my face in my hands, saying nothing more. I rested there for a few moments, then felt an arm reach over my shoulders and smelled a subtle but sharp scent of Gleece in front of me. When I pulled my head from my hands, I found Mirena holding a glass before me. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Anytime, Cal,¡± she nodded, sitting next to me after I took the glass.


    ¡°What do I owe you?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°A fighter? Maybe a Fury?¡± she suggested, thinking whimsically about the dreamy prospect.


    I smiled weakly, then looked at the glass of Gleece in my hands. ¡°Frig it, why not?¡± I shrugged, then shot the drink down my throat.


    ¡°Uh, I was joking, Cal,¡± she clarified.


    ¡°Were you? Oh,¡± I muttered. ¡°Guess I¡¯m losing my touch.¡±


    ¡°Sure as Throne didn¡¯t feel like it,¡± she replied, tapping her head.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry about that. To all of you,¡± I spoke louder, addressing the room. ¡°Sorry.¡± Everyone brushed it aside, uncaring about my outburst. ¡°Sometimes I wonder if Scayn made the right call with me all those¡ªow!¡± I exclaimed as Mirena punched me in the shoulder.


    ¡°If not for you, Cal, I¡¯d be¡ª¡± she grilled me, then took a breath and cooled off before sitting back down in her chair. ¡°You know where I¡¯d be. Don¡¯t ever think for a frigging second that Scayn frigged up with you. You¡¯re his greatest success, Cal. Everyone here knows it. Throne, especially that frigging Sister, eh?¡± she laughed.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have done that to her,¡± I shook my head, making Mirena¡¯s laughing grin fade away. ¡°Politics¡ªwhich I don¡¯t care about¡ªaside, if she isn¡¯t a heretic, she did not deserve what I¡¯ve done to her. She may never serve the Throne as she once had ever again, because of me, because of my mind.¡±


    ¡°Then she should have cooperated with a frigging Inquisitor,¡± Mirena shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s her bad, not yours. Throne, the stories we told about you lot while in the Navy, we were pretty sure no one ever even survived interrogation. And you know, I bet to some extent, those stories are true for some Inquisitors, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°There are more¡­destructive members of my ordo, yes,¡± I nodded. ¡°I believe such wrath exudes no favors for our Imperium. But trying as this universe is, wrath is a simple solution that often produces results. I fear I¡¯ve failed Scayn¡¯s test in that regard, however.¡±


    Mirena paused and squinted. ¡°Scayn¡¯s test?¡±


    ¡°Never mind,¡± I shook my head. ¡°You¡¯re a good woman, Mirena Law. And an even better pilot. Thank you for the drink.¡±


    ¡°Get me a Fury, and I¡¯ll fly all the Gleece in the galaxy to you,¡± she grinned. ¡°Or you to it.¡±


    ¡°Might hold you to that,¡± I grinned, and stood back to my feet, joining Okustin and Zha at the cogitator recorders. Zha offered me hers for me to listen in to the interrogation with.


    Four hours later, we released Canoness Galatena Amelia to her own still-shivering devices, the interrogation reaching its conclusion. She did not provide us with anything to go on in the city. All leads, it seemed, were dead.

 Chapter 7 - Arbites

    I did not really have much of a plan in mind after releasing the Canoness from interrogation. Even so, I was compelled to remain on world, for Scayn¡¯s sake. A na?ve Inquisitor may have pursued the lead they were already on in tracking the tithing and population discrepancies their savant picked up on. That would likely produce results. Those results would, however, look comparable to that which came to Scayn, as he had indicated in tying my investigation to his own and urging me to leave.


    So, for the time being, we waited. What for, I could not say. Anything to happen I suppose. If there was some great conspiracy in the city, some heretic actors would need to make a move eventually. I intended to be there to catch them in the act.


    Two days after interrogating the Canoness, one of our proximity sensors tripped. I glanced to Xavier, who shrugged, not feeling anything out of the ordinary. I already knew that a Vindicare Assassin would not trip our proximity sensors, as ¡®proximity¡¯ was not their M.O. So I turned to Silas and asked him what he thought. He replied with a shrug as well, then leaned back and looked over his shoulder. ¡°Go check it out, Vaigg,¡± he said. ¡°Report in every sixty.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Luther nodded, standing to his feet and leaving the hab.


    I closed my eyes and started listening to the surface-level thoughts of those around me. No one was too panicked. And, yet, I felt the same sort of dread I had felt before entering Scayn¡¯s hab for drinks many nights ago. ¡°Mirena.¡±


    ¡°Cal?¡±


    ¡°Take Castecael and Ms. Trantos deeper into the hab,¡± I told her, eyes still closed.


    ¡°Do you feel something, sir?¡± Xavier asked me as Mirena obliged my request with haste.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°All clear, sir,¡± Luther voxed in. ¡°Heading back.¡±


    Silas and Czevia looked to me. My eyes were still closed, and I was slowly turning my head to the side, leaning on a pool of varied emotions throughout the Habblock. So many people, so much life, so much moving. ¡°Silas,¡± I said softly.


    ¡°Yes, sir?¡±


    ¡°Train your rifle on the door,¡± I told him. His fireteam bolted to defensive positions in an instant, while I sent a single word, +Action+, to Penitent. Then a knock arrived at our door. Luther had no reason to knock, he would have just entered. ¡°Is he alive?¡± I called to the door, eyes still closed. Penitent arrived to stand before me, Evisercator raised and powering up, just as the door opened. Then all hell broke loose.


    Luther entered the hab, a shotgun¡¯s barrel wedged into his spine, with his hands held over his head. He was flanked by a swarm of Arbites officers which flooded our room, shouting for Penitent and my fireteam to lower their weapons and comply. I did not need to open my eyes or read his thoughts to know that the man holding the shotgun to Luther¡¯s back was an Arbitrator Proctor, and this was his riot team. I also did not need to open my eyes to know that after the riot squad had flooded into our room, Okustin, standing in the corner with a laspistol, tapped his weapon to the side of the Proctor¡¯s head.


    ¡°We know you have at least one Psyker,¡± the Proctor began his warning, ignoring Okustin entirely. His voice was cold and empty, devoid of any shred of emotion. One could confuse him for a servitor, a machine of a man, were he not a hundred times as imposing. ¡°The slightest thought enters any of our heads, this boy¡¯s spine explodes. Now drop your weapons and comply.¡±


    Silence followed, save for the rearing tear of Penitent¡¯s Eviscerator. No one¡¯s weapon lowered even a micron.


    ¡°Are you alright, Luther?¡± I asked him, finally opening my eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, sir. Sorry, sir,¡± he stammered. I shook my head, dismissing the need for an apology.


    ¡°Is there something you want, Proctor?¡± I asked.


    ¡°For you to lower your weapons and comply.¡±


    ¡°I am an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus. I do not answer to you or the planetary Enforcers. I will not have my Agents lower their weapons while you have one of them hostage, but I am willing to extend you the courtesy of compliance,¡± I replied. For the record, the Proctor and his men were intimidating to some extent, but I knew they were not responsible for the Massacre. Scayn could have held his own against them with ease. And Penitent or Silas, individually, would tear through the whole riot squad if I even started to give the order. But any way I saw a shootout pan out, of which I considered dozens of different variations, Luther always died. Okustin often died too. I was entirely invested in de-escalation.


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    ¡°Produce your Rosette,¡± the Proctor demanded.


    ¡°I will reach into my coat for it,¡± I told him, and slowly did so, drawing my Inquisitorial Rosette out for him to see. Some of his squad wavered at the sight of it, but held their ground even afterward.


    ¡°Cogitator on my left arm. Verify your authenticity. Any other action, the boy dies,¡± the Proctor told me.


    I nodded. ¡°I understand. I will approach now,¡± I told him, gingerly stepping into the battlefield past Penitent. Her Eviscerator continued to roar as I walked past, but was otherwise held perfectly still, levied toward the Proctor. I slowly walked toward Luther and the Proctor before looking the Arbitrator over and finding the cogitator he mentioned. I passed my Rosette over it, letting him scan my identity. A brief glimmer of light flashed through his helmet, which was covering the top half of his head, revealing only his stern, stone-like jaw.


    ¡°Inquisitor Callant Blackgar, Ordo Hereticus,¡± the Proctor nodded, turning his head ever so slightly to face me, but the grip and aim of his shotgun did not budge. ¡°I do not question your authority. But you tampered with a crime scene, destroyed evidence, ensured local Troopers were not present, destroyed property, and are now accused by members of your ordo and the Sororitas of wasting Imperium resources¡ªor worse. The matter of your involvement with the Massacre has been brought to the Governor¡¯s attention. To quote the Governor, it was me or the PDF. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°You are wanted for an audience.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Drop your weapons and comply.¡± I looked to the room and raised my hands defensively, encouragingly. Slowly, my fireteam and Okustin, and even Penitent, lowered their arms. The Proctor pushed his shotgun into Luther back. ¡°Go, boy.¡± Luther slowly stepped deeper into the hab, where he was embraced by Czevia. Silas did not budge, keeping his eyes on the Proctor and his grip on his weapon, lowered or not.


    Then the Proctor spun on his heels and trained his shotgun on me. I again raised my hands to try to keep my fireteam cool, but that did not work on Silas or Okustin who returned to aiming at the Proctor. And it especially did not work on Penitent, who jumped between me and the shotgun. ¡°Out of the way,¡± the Proctor demanded.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Penitent,¡± I told her.


    ¡°No, Cal, it isn¡¯t,¡± she whispered over her shoulder to me.


    ¡°Damn right it isn¡¯t,¡± Okustin told me, eyes burning into the Proctor¡¯s helmet, laspistol steadily aimed at the Proctor¡¯s temple. ¡°How is this meant to work, Arbitrator?¡±


    ¡°We will take your Inquisitor, unarmed, to the Governor. You will not follow.¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Silas shook his head. ¡°Try again.¡±


    ¡°Proctor, you¡¯re going to hear a voice. It is not meant for you,¡± I told him. +Stand down, team. This is not the fight.+


    ¡°Voidshit it isn¡¯t,¡± Mirena said, emerging into the room with her own laspistol raised on the Proctor. ¡°Blackgar isn¡¯t leaving without us. Period, end of discussion. What¡¯s your counteroffer?¡±


    ¡°There is no counteroffer,¡± the Proctor replied, pressing the shotgun against Penitent¡¯s stomach. ¡°Comply. Or die.¡±


    ¡°Proctor, let¡¯s be clear about something,¡± I told him, unable to repress a snorting chuckle, still shielded behind Penitent. ¡°I am willing to comply. I do wish my team was as willing, and I¡¯ll unquestionably rebuke them for it later. But there is not a world where you and your men open fire and are not slaughtered by my team. And in that scenario, I don¡¯t go to the Governor at all¡ªat least, not in the way you are¡ªand he is¡ªhoping for. I encourage you to think extremely carefully about your next choice of words. Especially, Proctor, now that you are without a hostage¡ªyour one shield from my psyker¡¯s mind,¡± I warned him, not revealing that we had two psykers, or who they were.


    The riot team seemed all but scared shitless. However, If the Proctor was even the tiniest bit intimidated, he did not show it. But he did pause in his reply, and for a good while at that. Eventually, he made a snap-judgement call, likely working around his given orders. ¡°We will take your Inquisitor, unarmed, to the Governor. You will not be within fifty meters of us, nor will you enter the Governor¡¯s building. Failure to comply will be immediately punished. No further offer.¡±


    ¡°Okustin,¡± I said softly.


    Okustin looked at me with pained frustration, but nodded and lowered his weapon. He understood as I did: this was our first real shot at a lead since Scayn had died. It was worth pursuing, regardless of the terms therein. ¡°Fine. Everyone, fine,¡± he told the room.


    ¡°Cal, I can¡¯t allow this,¡± Penitent insisted. ¡°When I swore myself to you, that was meant to end only in death. I cannot stand somewhere that is not as your shield.¡±


    ¡°I know, Penitent. But in Scayn¡¯s apartment, I told you I¡¯d be asking the impossible of you. You said you would answer,¡± I reminded her. ¡°I will be fine. These sorts of meetings happen. Fifty meters¡ªyou can close that gap if it comes to it, I¡¯ve seen you do so.¡±


    With a deep breath, slightly exacerbated from the shotgun in her stomach, Penitent at last revealed me to the Proctor, standing aside. ¡°Stay safe, Cal.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine that will be much of a problem,¡± I assured her. ¡°Especially not with a team like yourselves.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Descent

    Certainly the most crushing part of the ordeal for my team was needing to hold back as the Proctor and his men escorted me into the Governor¡¯s building and watched me vanish in an elevator with them. The multi-mile journey, on foot, to said-office was just another hike for them, even in all their equipment. Mirena, Castecael, and Zha did not join the rest of the team; instead, they went to the Bird, ready to respond with aerial support, medicae support, or any intel needed at a moment¡¯s notice.


    The elevator ride was not the fastest I have been on, but it was far from the slowest too. And at its not-fast not-slow pace, it carried us into the sky for several minutes. Eventually, far into the clouds, our ascension stopped, and I was shown out into a lobby to wait for my audience with the Governor. All I had on me was my Rosette and my clothes. As I later explained to the Governor, an Inquisitor was under no need to obey him or the PDF or the Arbites¡ªor even the Enforcers, which thus far I had not had a run-in with. The only reason I complied at all was for the sake of my team in the room, a choice I do not regret.


    Fifteen minutes passed before I was invited into the Governor¡¯s room. The Proctor followed me, which was fair¡ªself-defense for the Governor, even if the Governor should have had his own security detail¡ªEnforcers¡ªfor that. ¡°Ah, the great Callant Blackgar, Inquisitor for the Ordo Hereticus,¡± the Governor greeted me, stealing my intro from me. He was bald, with significant cybernetics applied to his cranium and neck that piped downward under his green suit. He was about my height but certainly not my age. After his greeting he held out a hand for me to shake, which I did, and then he gestured for a chair opposite his desk. I sat in it while the Proctor stood at the door of the Governor¡¯s office, arms crossed. ¡°I¡¯ve heard much about you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s worrying,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Ha! Please, I am well aware of the charge of your office. The Thantalus matter is no concern of mine. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, sir, and welcome you to Abseradon. It is an honor,¡± the Governor assured me. Already, he struck me as being well-informed. It was not impossible that Planetary Governors kept each other up to date of the goings-on of the Sector, but the Thantalus Affair was very much classified by the Inquisition. ¡°And I thank you for your service to the Imperium. You truly do the Throne¡¯s work.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°Call me Merek,¡± the Governor urged me. ¡°Apologies for the manner in which we are meeting, but I trust things went smoothly with the Arbites?¡±


    ¡°The Proctor handled himself¡­,¡± I started, then cleared my throat. ¡°Professionally.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it. I assume they briefed you on why I¡¯ve wanted to meet with you.¡±


    I sat upright and nodded. ¡°They have, but I want to set some things straight, sir,¡± I told him. ¡°There is not a soul in my ordo that answers to you or your Arbites. I am here for my own reasons. And had you wanted to meet with me, knowing¡ªas you did¡ªwhere I was, you could have asked for me at any time. I would have been happy to oblige. The Arbites were not necessary.¡±


    Merek grinned, chuckled to himself, then nodded. ¡°Get out, Proctor,¡± Merek demanded, rubbing his hands together. The Proctor obeyed and left the room, closing the door behind him. ¡°No, the Arbites were not necessary. But they want blood. Still haven¡¯t gotten to the bottom of the Massacre, you see, which quite upsets them. They¡¯re also quite peeved about the Inquisitor that caused a ruckus on the scene of the crime.¡±


    ¡°Politics,¡± I growled, sitting back in my chair and sighing.


    ¡°So you understand,¡± Merek laughed.


    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°I recognize the confidentiality of your investigation, Inquisitor, and would not ask you to share anything you do not wish to. But having said that¡­¡±


    ¡°Politics.¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°You¡¯re a smart one,¡± Merek laughed again.


    I sighed again, then shrugged. ¡°You know the roster of victims?¡±


    ¡°I know there was an Inquisitor and his entire entourage among them, yes,¡± Merek nodded.


    ¡°That Inquisitor was my mentor, Thaddeus Scayn. I will shred your city top to bottom, Merek, to find who killed him. To find who Massacred your city. May I ask a question now?¡±


    ¡°Please, any way I can help,¡± he nodded, and put his hands under his desk.


    ¡°Alright. The missing person¡¯s rate is growing in the Underhive. Do you have any insight into that?¡± I started. I expected an unhelpful answer, and I got one.


    ¡°Heightened gang activity? Were it not for your mentor¡¯s presence in `block 9 and your later involvement, that had been the prevailing theory for the Arbites,¡± he replied. ¡°But as things stand, no, I suspect I am much further behind on the matter than you are.¡±


    ¡°Your city is behind on biomass exports. Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Are we? I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve not been told of such information,¡± Merek frowned.


    I blinked twice, then squinted. ¡°So soon?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°What do they have on you?¡±


    Merek looked at me blankly, then sighed. ¡°A Governor should know every detail of his planet¡¯s tithes, eh?¡± he chuckled, nodding in recognizing his mistaken slipup. ¡°Shame. They¡¯ll have to get the rest out of you some other way. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have your biomass answers soon. For what it¡¯s worth, Inquisitor Blackgar, I¡¯m not one of them. You¡¯re correct that they have something on me.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°The existence of this city, and possibly the whole Sector,¡± he replied.


    I leaned in and cracked my knuckles in my lap. ¡°I meant what I said about my mentor.¡± He furrowed his brow, confused. ¡°I will kill every heretic involved in his death. You¡¯ve given me a lot of reasons to consider you among them.¡±


    ¡°And for that I am truly sorry. And yes, perhaps one day they will die¡ªI do certainly hope so, for the Throne¡¯s sake. They are not good people. But I expect it will not be in either of our lifetimes,¡± Merek sighed, then let loose a yawn. ¡°Scary, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked, then yawned again. ¡°What four men can do?¡±


    ¡°Four?¡± I asked, and found myself returning the yawn. ¡°What did you do, Merek?¡± I ordered, standing to my feet. I reached out through the building, and found it quiet. Rather, I found I could not see or hear with anything other than my eyes and ears.


    ¡°You¡¯ll meet them soon, I suspect,¡± Merek replied, slumping in his chair, yawning again. ¡°They said I couldn¡¯t wear a mask, `cause you¡¯d react too quickly. Had to let it pump in,¡± he explained, gesturing above him to a ceiling vent. ¡°You look lost. Psychic Dampeners. They provided those too,¡± Merek added, yawning again. I had never encountered such a thing, nor was I aware of their very existence, alluding to further implements of heresy. ¡°Goodbye, Callant Blackgar, and sweet dreams. They will be your last.¡± At that, and with one final yawn, his head fell forward. I believe he began to snore.


    I raced over to his desk and looked underneath it, immediately seeing the switch he had flicked, which was not what I was looking for. More importantly, I saw a thumb-scanner under his desk, and grabbed Merek¡¯s hand whilst releasing a yawn of my own. I fumbled with his unwieldy, sleeping body for a bit before managing to scan his thumb correctly, after which an autopistol descended out from his desk. I took it at once, and held it to the door. I could hear them now, a dozen men or more stomping toward Merek¡¯s office. Their footfalls were heavier than those of the riot team, more metallic.


    If they were the least bit armored, Merek¡¯s autopistol would not have sufficed much for my safety. So I ignored the door for the time being and scanned Merek¡¯s desk over once more. It took a few precious moments to find it, but eventually I found the city-wide vox communicator. I flicked it on, and after a dazing yawn, called, ¡°Silas.¡± I could hear my own voice boom through Abseradon, and I greeted the sound of myself by shooting out the windows to Merek¡¯s office. I considered jumping, but there was no reality that involved survival from this height. I yawned again and threw my aim of the autopistol on the door of the office just as it sprung open. A swarm of someone¡¯s private military poured into the room, and I opened fire at once. None of them fell, their armor much too heavy. Instead, they tackled me to Merek¡¯s desk.


    I struggled against them as best I could, but I was hopelessly outmanned, and was still falling asleep. They held my head such that I faced the now-opened windows, which let me catch a view of Luther Vaigg swoop into view, carried by his Harakoni Jump Pack. In a heartbeat he opened fire on my assailants, his las-carbine managing to cut some of them down. ¡°Multiple contacts!¡± I heard him shout into his vox. ¡°Command withheld! Send the Bird!¡±


    Unfortunately, the view of the outside world also let me see, among the red lasfire, a single red targeting beam trace its way up the side of the room, to Luther¡¯s back. A moment later one of his Jump Jets exploded, and Luther vanished into an inferno before my eyes, a fireball that plummeted an unknowable distance toward the ground. I believe I called out his name, for all the good that would have done. I was then hoisted onto my feet, and just before my view was covered by some sort of bag, I saw it¡ªthe evidence of an Exitus Rifle shot, warping through a wall of Merek¡¯s office.


    And that was how my day ended, and a night of horrors began.

 Chapter 9 - Psyker

    I am Callant Blackgar.


    I am a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8<sup>th</sup>. The 8<sup>th</sup> could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.


    It is their undoing.


    The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.


    A blade sinks into my abdomen. I hear the cruel laughing of the Xenos.


    It ends.


    I am alone.


    I am surrounded by dust.


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I am Callant Blackgar.


    I am a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8<sup>th</sup>. The 8<sup>th</sup> could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.


    It is their undoing.


    The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.


    A claw rakes through my face. I hear the cruel laughing of the Xenos.


    It ends.


    I am made alone.


    I have reduced the Xenos to dust.


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I am Callant Blackgar.


    I am a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8<sup>th</sup>. The 8<sup>th</sup> could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.


    I could not be prouder of them.


    It is their undoing.


    The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.


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    A Xenos melta sears my flesh. I hear the cruel laughing of unknown Gods.


    It never ends.


    I make myself alone.


    I have reduced my men to dust.


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I do not know who I am.


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I am a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    I lead my men to their deaths.


    I am their deaths.


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I am Callant Blackgar.


    I am a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8<sup>th</sup>. The 8<sup>th</sup> could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.


    I could not be prouder of them.


    It is their undoing.


    The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.


    The laughter is overpowering. It breaks my skull, it ruptures through and I see them. I see all they could be. The infinite potential horror.


    The whole universe is dust.


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I am Callant Blackgar.


    I am a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8<sup>th</sup>. The 8<sup>th</sup> could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.


    I could not be prouder of them.


    It is their undoing.


    The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.


    A power weapon electrocutes me. I hear the laughter of the Four. They are but men.


    It does not end. They enjoy it, those heretics. +I KNOW YOU¡¯RE HERE.+


    I am not alone.


    +I WILL REDUCE YOU TO DUST.+


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I am Callant Blackgar.


    I am a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    I could not be prouder of them.


    I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8<sup>th</sup>. The 8<sup>th</sup> could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.


    I could not be prouder of them.


    It is their undoing.


    I could not be prouder of them.


    The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.


    A man mauls my torso. I hear the laughter of the heretic.


    I am not alone. +I SEE YOU.+


    Thaddeus Scayn wades through the dust. He offers me a hand.


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    I am sobbing.


    I am alone.


    The Four laugh. They think they are breaking me. The body, yes, they have managed that. But they are no better than the Xenos. And the Xenos are dust. Just like my men. I could not be prouder of them. I will reduce the Four to dust.


    They do not know what I know. They try to. They fail.


    +I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.+


    They seek answers. They wish to know how close I am to their operation. They want to know the secrets of my Ordo. They want to know the movements of Imperium forces. They want to know¡­


    It is in my mind. They cannot get to it. They try. The Black Ships keep it from them.


    +SHALL I TELL YOU WHAT I KNOW?+


    I am Callant ¡®Cal¡¯ Blackgar.


    I could not be prouder of the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.


    They were led into battle and fought valiantly to the last.


    The Xenos stomped and mashed and burned and sliced through the 8<sup>th</sup>. Flesh was torn asunder just as easily as the skies broke in the hammering devastation of war.


    Venom seeps into my veins. The pain is all but overpowering. I cry out. I hear the howling of the Xenos. I hear the howling of unknown Gods. I hear the howling of the Four.


    +GALE RYKE.+


    +PHAENONITE INQUISITOR.+


    +EXCOMMUNICATE TRAITORIS.+


    +FORMERLY OF ORDO XENOS.+


    +THADDEUS SCAYN FOUND YOU.+


    +I AM YOUR DAMNATION.+


    +YOU WILL BE DUST.+


    A door closes on the Black Ships.


    It will not open.


    +You do not know enough, Blackgar.+


    +You will.+


    +We will show you what we are making, before the end.+


    +Showing you will be the end.+

 Chapter 10 - Biomass

    ¡°Anything?¡± a man, of which there were Four, asked Gale Ryke.


    Ryke shook his head. ¡°He may look as a man but his mind is that of a monster,¡± he reported. ¡°He has materialized the hiding of information, granting physicality to secrecy. Moreover, his mind actively rationalizes everything we do to him as being done by a Greenskin in a battle he once fought. We may torture his body, but his mind is more resilient.¡±


    ¡°His mind could be removed,¡± another man¡ªno, a creature¡ªreplied. The voice was thin and raspy, and partially electronic. ¡°There are¡­ways to get at what we want where the soul cannot protect him.¡±


    ¡°We agreed to keep him in one piece,¡± Ryke objected. ¡°For the test.¡±


    ¡°I am still uncertain about the need for the test. There are¡­simpler subjects. Giving so much leniency to an Inquisitor skirts a great deal of risk,¡± the fourth and final man explained.


    ¡°It does, but¡ª¡± Ryke began, but was interrupted by the first of the Four.


    ¡°But I can provide certain safeguards. Even if the test is a failure, I can guarantee our new friend¡¯s demise,¡± said the first man.


    ¡°And as I was going to say, there may be no better subject for a test of this nature than an Inquisitor with practiced military experience,¡± Ryke agreed.


    ¡°You flatter me,¡± I replied.


    ¡°You had said he would remain conscious only enough to feel pain!¡± the first man exclaimed, shouting at the ¡®thing¡¯ with the raspy voice. ¡°He can¡¯t see us, can he?¡±


    ¡°Monster though he may be, I think not,¡± Ryke replied, then turned around to me and approached me, laying a blood-soaked hand on my blood-soaked face. ¡°Have any sweet dreams, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°Plenty. You, Ryke?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He knows your name? This is absurd!¡± the ¡®thing¡¯ objected.


    ¡°The interrogation was a two-way mental process,¡± Ryke began to explain.


    ¡°Well it sure seems like he left with more than we got out of it,¡± the first man growled. ¡°This is all far worse than what we agreed to. Much as I¡¯m confident in my ability to kill him after the test, I am growing more and more inclined to get it over with now. What if I just walked up and put a Bolter round in his head, eh? What then?¡±


    Ryke lowered himself in front of me, and did not turn to speak to his allies. ¡°Then I would be sorely heartbroken,¡± he replied with a chuckle. With what little strength I had left, I lurched for him, and got nowhere for it due to my restraints. That made Ryke explode into a laugh, after which he stood to his feet. ¡°Give him credit where it¡¯s due, Scayn got far further than you did, and far faster. End result is the same, though.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, it¡¯s very fun to prod at the Imperium idiots,¡± the fourth man said. ¡°We don¡¯t have all the time in the world, here. There¡¯s a matter of¡­appearances. Are we going to keep making small talk, or are we capable of moving things along?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to sit and chat, personally,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Someone muzzle him, for Throne¡¯s sake,¡± the first man sighed, exasperated.


    ¡°We still have not gotten what we need from him,¡± the ¡®thing¡¯ objected. ¡°Callant Blackgar, Ordo Hereticus,¡± it addressed me. ¡°Your retinue. What is its size? Where will they be in your absence?¡± it asked, which confirmed for me that they did not have my team, and moreover, that my team had abandoned the hab, knowing their location was compromised. ¡°How many vessels orbit the Conclave off Quintus? You can die quickly if you answer our questions. Who else knows about the assassins?¡±


    ¡°Plural?¡± I asked, grinning a bloody grin.


    ¡°For frig¡¯s sake,¡± Ryke gave up, and bashed me across the head, knocking me out.


    ***


    I had grown accustomed to the Abseradon smell. But what I next awoke to was far, far worse. Indescribably worse. Putrefaction to the absolute extreme.


    Where once I had been restrained to some torture rack, now I was free. Relatively. As I pried my eyes open, I found myself laying in a wet, spongy¡­something, my arms and legs free to move around. ¡°Ah, he awakens at last!¡± exclaimed the first man from my interrogation. He was not present in the dark, damp room I found myself in. Instead, he was voxxing in from above, his voice somewhat garbled. ¡°I was a man of some faith once. I will give you time to say your prayers to the Throne, before your end, Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°Did you let Scayn say his?¡± I said, and found I had the strength to sit up. In fact, I had a great deal of strength. I suspected some time had passed since I was last conscious. While my body was sore and bruised all over, and while I bore stitched wounds I had not before, they were stitched. Speaking of which, my body¡ªI had no shirt. I had some pants on, but that was it. For whatever reason, they left me with my Rosette, which now dangled from a necklace I was wearing.


    ¡°Not my operation, that. Ah, your Rosette, yes. Your body is unlikely to survive what will follow, but your Rosette should. For confirming your death, you see. Worry not, we¡¯ll let the authorities take it, return it to your Ordo. We have no need for it,¡± the voice explained.


    ¡°How considerate,¡± I muttered, and gingerly stood to my feet. I was barefoot, just like Penitent. The floor was wet and squishy. ¡°You got a name, voice in the sky?¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°You could call me Throne if you like.¡±


    ¡°I do not believe I will do that.¡±


    ¡°Ha! I thought not. Vostroya, then.¡±


    ¡°Is that where you¡¯re from?¡± I asked, taking a small step forward. Still wet and squishy.


    ¡°It is. Where are you from, Inquisitor?¡±


    ¡°Pyrras-3,¡± I replied, which was in fact the truth.


    ¡°Neighbors! Ha! Small galaxy. Well, Pyrras, I won¡¯t mince words¡ªthis isn¡¯t a particularly kind ending. If you have prayers, now¡¯s the time,¡± Vostroya told me. I did, in fact. I prayed that this damn conversation was nearing its conclusion. And I prayed I would get to see Penitent again, sometime soon. I found I was missing her company dearly. ¡°Gotta die sometime, eh? I¡¯ll see you on the other side someday, Pyrras. Lights in a few, mind your eyes.¡±


    I shielded my eyes a bit, just in time for Vostroya to kick the lights on in the room. It was still quite dim, but far brighter than pure darkness. In the process of the lights turning on, I had found the missing biomass. It was beneath my feet, mounding up and down across the room like a landscape of flesh. Pulped fluid flowed through my toes, a dense, meat-red stream of processed biocarbon. ¡°Is your test not throwing up?¡± I asked Vostroya.


    ¡°Afraid not, Pyrras,¡± he laughed. ¡°I believe our test is to your four o¡¯clock,¡± he told me, and I turned around to find a goliath of a man rising from under a blanket of flesh. Whatever this creature was, it stood at a height well in excess of Penitent, and was more scarified than I was. No, I knew what this was at the sight of it, and it horrified me. I had never thought such a defilement of His Angels was possible, but it was there, rising before me. Towering over me. ¡°They¡¯re not perfect, not yet.¡±


    ¡°I can tell,¡± I stammered, backing away. ¡°This is heresy of the highest order.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°No perhaps. What you are doing here, this should not be.¡±


    ¡°And why not?¡±


    ¡°You cannot make an Angel,¡± I shouted, and my raised voice made the thing glance at me. I continued to back up slowly.


    ¡°Then what is that before you?¡±


    ¡°An abomination,¡± I replied.


    ¡°You see an abomination. We see the future. Think of it¡ªmankind no longer enslaved to its own limits. The means to make an Angel of us all. What Xenos filth exists in the universe that could stand before a trillion trillion Astartes, hm?¡± Vostroya asked, and broke into laughter. ¡°And the best part¡ªand I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll like this, being a Psyker and all¡ªthey cannot fall to darkness. They are without a presence in the Warp. Your mind, and the mind of every daemon foe throughout the cosmos, cannot slay them. Now I admit, there¡¯s a few kinks still to work out. This one, before you, is far from the might of His Angels. But even so, I¡¯m quite confident you¡¯ll find it far from your might as a man.¡±


    ¡°This is wrong. This is so, unfathomably wrong. You can¡¯t do this. You can¡¯t manufacture them. They¡¯ll have no loyalty, no sense of¡ª¡± I objected, but Vostroya shouted me down.


    ¡°No loyalty? No loyalty? Inquisitor, we designed their loyalty! And what were you going to say, comradery? Who needs that in the presence of such numbers as would sink continents beneath the seas by their weight alone? Mass-produced, perfect death, in unlimited quantities. Every foe mankind ever knew or could know, stomped out under an ocean of the best fighting forces imaginable. With what we have today, we could take this city in a few hours. With what we could have tomorrow¡­dear Pyrras, your beloved 8<sup>th</sup> would not have needed to die.¡±


    ¡°I had already vowed to kill you all out of vengeance, Vostroya, but for this¡­this demands so much more,¡± I started, but was again interrupted.


    ¡°More than you can give, Pyrras. Farewell. Astartes, grab him,¡± Vostroya called. I did not need to see the abomination move to know that I needed to run. But it was for nothing. By the time I turned around, the beast had already broken into a sprint, blazing toward me on all fours like a hound. I had seen the Astartes move before, and truthfully, I could not discern difference of speed between them and this thing. I must believe there is a difference, but it must be imperceptible to mortal eyes. In a blur, the great monster had pounced upon me by the time I had taken but four steps from it, closing the gap between us like the nightmare that it was. It tackled me into the fleshy ground, pressing my face to the mountainous biomass, and kept me pinned there. If Vostroya wanted it, he could have killed me then and there in an instant. ¡°Pyrras, are you right- or left-handed?¡± Vostroya called.


    ¡°Throne burn you,¡± I gasped, air punching out of my panicked gut in hastened bursts.


    ¡°Bah, I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Vostroya decided. ¡°Astartes, break his right arm.¡± Before I could blink, pain blasted through my body. The thing had twisted my arm to an impossible angle in an instant. ¡°Astartes, off him. Let him see.¡±


    ¡°S-see?¡± I cried, reaching away with my one good arm and trying in desperation to crawl onward. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here but your madness and the laughter of a grim universe!¡± I yelled, pulling at thick flesh for dear life.


    ¡°Sit up, Pyrras.¡±


    ¡°You command that thing, not me, heretic,¡± I spat back.


    ¡°Astartes, sit him on his ass,¡± Vostroya commanded, and I was subsequently hoisted into the air by the unseen monster behind me, spun around, and placed upon the ground as instructed. ¡°Do you see it, Callant Blackgar?¡±


    I looked up at the beast, shivering in pain and sweat. ¡°See what, you piece of voidshit?¡±


    ¡°The precision. The accuracy. The loyalty. I give an order, I speak some words, and your world changes. This is but a prototype. Imagine the real thing,¡± Vostroya declared, sounding proud of himself.


    ¡°I will not envision your heresy for you, scum,¡± I protested.


    Vostroya chuckled. ¡°Hm. Defiant to the last, eh? Perhaps we¡¯ll turn you into one of these. I imagine you¡¯ll make a fine specimen. Astartes, cross the room. I want you to see it, Pyrras, I really want you to see it. I¡¯ll have the Heretek sift through your mind afterward. I¡¯ll need to know if you saw it coming.¡±


    ¡°Will you?¡± I growled, teeth clenched harder than when the Greenskin jammed its power claw into my chest cavity and jolted me, and painstakingly forced myself to my feet. The last member of the 8<sup>th</sup> was going to die on his feet, facing the foe, as all the rest did. I grabbed my Rosette with my left hand, my good hand, and readied myself. ¡°Come on, Vostroya! Show me! I wanna see it!¡± I screamed, blood joining my spittle as I gave the order.


    ¡°With pleasure. Astartes, kill him.¡±


    Even with the monster all the way across the spacious room, I did not wait to see it move. To hesitate against an Angel was to embrace death. I began the motions I had intended as soon as Vostroya gave the order, but even so, before I had even begun to move, the monster was on all fours again, a maddening blur of inhuman insanity.


    My breath was fire and my gaze was lighting. I shrugged off the necklace they had given me and whipped it toward the beast. As my Rosette left my grasp, psykematic lightning leapt from my fingertips onto the seal of my Ordo, propelling it forward. In the next blink of an eye, the monster raced past me, crashing with a damp thud into a pile of flesh at my rear. As my Rosette sailed across the room, the monster¡¯s head landed some distance away from me. ¡°Not so immune to my mind after all, huh, Vostroya?¡± I shouted, and heard a significant smashing clash through the vox. I think he was angry.


    Slowly, painfully, I strolled across the room to fetch my Rosette. ¡°Chevekian zadnik!¡± Vostroya shouted, speaking his native tongue. ¡°Test¡­,¡± he growled into the vox, though I suspect he was not much talking to me and more reporting in to his group of heretic scum. ¡°Failure. I will bury him.¡±


    As soon as I got my Rosette back in my grasp and slung the necklace overhead, an opening formed in a faraway wall, letting dim, orange light shine into the still-dark room. Viscous fluid began to seep out of the opening. ¡°What¡¯s that then?¡± I asked Vostroya.


    ¡°Your freedom. Have a look.¡±

 Chapter 11 - Commissar

    The 8<sup>th</sup>.


    Nothing.


    Scayn.


    Nothing.


    Mirena.


    Silas.


    Penitent.


    Czevia.


    Hans.


    Castecael.


    Xavier.


    Luther.


    Zha.


    Nothing.


    ***


    I stumbled out of the flesh-room and into the light. There, I found a factory of sin. Towering vats of liquid man, assembly lines of organs, surgical anatomy on an industrial scale. I have not the heart to describe the sight of it all, nor the stomach. I had already begun to piece things together from having seen the puppet-Astartes, but now I knew the whole of it. The Four heretics were conning the Imperium of biomass to use for themselves in the crafting of organs and augmetic flesh. They were abducting the lowly and downtrodden for experimentation, with progress being made and quantified. I do not know how the real Astartes are made, nor do I wish to. But the Four seemed to have their own idea, and I bore witness to it.


    I want not for heresy in His universe, but what the Four were doing on Abseradon was a greater sum of evil than what my worst fears could have produced. It was sickening, maddening.


    And it was producing real results, which was the worst of it.


    ¡°Welcome, Pyrras, to the grand stage!¡± Vostroya shouted, voice booming now, his laughter echoing off his heretical metal contraptions. ¡°Some would say the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and that may be, but you must admit, the parts themselves are quite the sight, no?¡± he asked, laughing.


    ¡°Death is too great a mercy for you, Vostroya,¡± I called back to him, leaning on a safety railing to keep my footing. The sheer irony that a place such as this would have ¡®safety¡¯ almost makes me balk today, were it not for the ever-present, contextual horror of it all.


    Vostroya laughed again, voice pounding into my eardrums, deafeningly loud. ¡°Be that as it may, we have supporting actors, stage left!¡± he shouted, and I looked to my left. I saw nothing more than the horror I already knew to be there. Then a lasrifle shot raced past my head from my right, searing off some blood-soaked hair. I turned in time to see a small squad of the privatized soldiers that had abducted me in Merek¡¯s office, and pain exploded in the back of my head. Fortunately, that pain was of my own making, and where I simply felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my head, their skulls burst into red mist. ¡°Ah, sorry, my left, your right. Apologies, Pyrras,¡± Vostroya laughed. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve almost forgotten! You stay right there, let me fetch the thing,¡± he said, voice still pounding through me, but he seemed to step away.


    I willed an autogun¡ªAgripinaa Pattern, Type III¡ªto me and inverted it in my grasp while flicking the safety, such as the barrel was pointing at me. I would have failed basic firearms training for that, but as I only had one functioning arm, I needed to improvise. So, with the butt of the weapon on the ground and its barrel pointing skyward, I kicked the charging handle down to ensure the weapon was readied, then hoisted it back up into my grasp more properly. ¡°I was right-handed, damnit,¡± I grumbled, now needing to manage the weapon with my left, but otherwise soldiered on, stalking through the walkways and catwalks of this hellscape. I flicked the firing mechanism to burst-fire, as I did not assume I could waste time with single-fire, nor that I had the strength to sustain full-auto.


    ¡°Ah, I see you¡¯ve found a toy, Pyrras!¡± Vostroya boomed eventually, his voice making me stumble a bit. ¡°So have I. Behind you, by the way,¡± he said, and I turned and shot a squad of three more soldiers to shreds. ¡°Huh, I had assumed you wouldn¡¯t listen a second time.¡±


    I ignored him. Or, I tried to. I did not acknowledge him, but it was impossible to ignore the¡ªdare I say it¡ªgodlike voice in the sky.


    ¡°In any event, my toy. Here we go,¡± Vostroya chuckled. ¡°Are you a classical man, Pyrras? A devout one? Ah, what am I saying, you served the proud and brave Guard of the Imperium! Surely you have heard some of the works of the Militarum Symphonica,¡± Vostroya suggested.


    ¡°More than you can know,¡± I growled. I do not know if he heard my reply.


    Whether he did or did not hear me, it did not matter, as my world rocked under a truly-deafening volume of music. Vostroya began playing rallying songs and chanting marches of the Guard through the vox, and garbled as it was, it was still entirely recognizable. Louder than the last warzone the 8<sup>th</sup> had served in, Vostroya¡¯s music slammed into me, shoving me to the ground in symphonic agony. I could not think. I could not focus. My ears began to bleed.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    There I laid, floored to crippling motionlessness, from the overpowering symphony of my past. Even if I had the thought to cover my ears, I only had one hand to use for the task, and the thought was too involved for me to focus on anyway. Thankfully, there was one saving grace, one last trick Vostroya had up his sleeve that proved to be a double-edged sword. My world rocked again, but this time not due to the booming music coming from the vox. Instead, the factory around me shuddered in frequent, iterative explosions, and dust and stones began to fall from the ceiling all throughout the complex. From the rapidity and pacing of the explosions, I knew what they were¡ªdemolition charges. Vostroya was planning to bring this whole factory down, not merely because they could not risk my survival, but probably because they had found better, more successful production methods elsewhere.


    In any case, the demolition charges rocked the vox communicator a bit, and while it did not silence it completely, the volume fell to more tolerable levels. While the chanting symphony carried on, I was able to pry myself off the floor and rise to my feet, painstakingly sullying onward to the cacophony of a falling, burning building and the militaristic music that rang through its halls. Eventually, after a few minutes of stalking around for an exit and a few more squads of soldiers either shot up or violently burst to giblets, blood-curdling screams began to call through the vox, timed with the chanting of the music. Throne, how I wished they were Vostroya¡¯s, but they were not.


    ¡°Who am I hearing?¡± I yelled at the ceiling, debris falling all around me while I took cover in an archway between two support columns.


    ¡°Can you repeat that, Pyrras, I couldn¡¯t quite hear you!¡± Vostroya boomed back, his voice still making me wince.


    ¡°Who is this?¡± I shouted back at the top of my lungs.


    Vostroya laughed. ¡°Not one of yours, unfortunately. Just our latest specimen. The Heretek has wanted to experiment on living specimens for some time¡ªwe¡¯re finally at that stage of things! He has quite the voice, doesn¡¯t he?¡± Vostroya asked. ¡°Left and right this time, no lies here!¡± he shouted, and I dove out from under the archway, lighting up four more soldiers approaching from my left. One of them got away, but my autogun had used the last of its ammo. I tossed it aside and willed a lasgun from the three I had slain, turning it on a group approaching from the right of where I had been, and opening fire. All the while, the screams above carried incessantly as the chanting of the music reached its peak. ¡°You¡¯re a tough bastard to kill, Pyrras! But even if you get out of here alive¡ªwhich you won¡¯t¡ªthere¡¯s no hope for you. My men have the whole facility surrounded! These squads you¡¯re shooting at, they¡¯re just to take you out early, make less of a mess in the city. Don¡¯t wanna gun down an Inquisitor in the streets¡ªagain¡ª, but I will,¡± Vostroya explained.


    I did not care to answer, though I had a library of things to say to the bastard. Instead, I gingerly stood to my feet just in time to be knocked back as a lasrifle shot clipped me, slamming into my ribs and cooking them in an instant. My newly-acquired weapon flew from my grasp. The soldier that had gotten away, from the first group. I reduced him to a shower of red as pain seared through my being. I rolled over on my good arm, and pressed my forehead to the ground. ¡°The 8<sup>th</sup>. Mirena. Silas. Penitent. The 8<sup>th</sup>. Mirena. Silas. Penitent. The 8<sup>th</sup>,¡± I chanted to myself, then yelled into the, blood, sweat, and saliva I had released upon the ground, maddened by everything in the universe around me, and forced myself to my feet again. ¡°Throne save you if I get out of here, Vostroya!¡± I roared to the crumbling¡ªand now ignited¡ªsky, blood dripping from my mouth and the side of my body.


    ¡°I¡¯m not too worried about that,¡± Vostroya chuckled in reply. ¡°Time for the climax, by the way,¡± he said, the screams from the vox intensifying ever more as the music reached a crescendo. I stumbled on, swaying and moving like as much of a corpse as that puppet-Astartes was, and did not think of willing another weapon to me. I did not even have my eyes open. I was feeling with my mind, searching for Vostroya. I figured he probably was not in the building that he was demolishing, but to me, every living, moving thing could have been him. And when my mind found them, I ruptured their existence, tearing them apart from the inside out. A dozen. Two dozen, three. Eventually, after another minute or two of staggering along and killing everything I could sense, the screams stopped, though the chanting of the music continued. ¡°Ah, pity. A day of failures, it seems. I¡¯m sure the Heretek will move on to another soon, though.¡±


    It was after that that a great chunk of the ceiling fell. I was on the ground floor then, with a great vat of pulped flesh near to me. The debris from the ceiling landed on the side of the vat, crashing it open and spewing the molten flesh everywhere. I dove forward away from it, but the explosion of debris was too great, and a splash of the vile, broiling liquid coated my left arm, searing much of my own flesh off. I felt such intense pain, then, that I blacked out.


    I came to in a stairwell. I do not know how I got there. My left arm was reddened and bulbous, where it had any flesh at all. It could barely have been called an arm, frankly. I tried standing to my feet, having been sitting in a corner between floors, but blacked out again. Next, I was on a catwalk. An inferno raged above and below me. Bodies laid strewn around me on the catwalk, though they were not fresh. I recognized them. I had bursted them open in my mental-searching for Vostroya.


    I was on fire. Not literally, but it felt as so.


    I blacked out again.


    I was outside. The music had stopped. My heart was racing, blood pumping through my skull and reddening my gaze. I could feel debris embedded in my back. I could feel my legs shaking. I could not feel my arms. I blinked the red out of my eyes, and saw them. A platoon of soldiers, weapons raised and pointed at me. I saw them. The 8<sup>th</sup>.


    With what little strength I had left, I lifted my molten, flayed left arm up and saluted them, ready to die. On my feet. With them.


    And then the Xenos monster cut through them. A rouge blur, crimson as the fastest Greenskins. It carved through them as had befallen the 8<sup>th</sup>. I began to black out, my last sight being the excruciating deaths of my men. Again. And then the red approached me.


    ¡°Cal,¡± it said. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Rest now,¡± she insisted. And I collapsed forward, into Penitent¡¯s arms.

 Chapter 12 - Law

    I am considered a Gamma-grade psyker by the Imperium. This is not a blessing, and comes with as many pitfalls as it provides advantages. Of the various Disciplines the Black Ships train their psykers in, I have notably practiced Telekinesis, Telepathy, and Biomancy. I believed my own martial prowess did not much require me to invest my time and efforts into the practicing of Pyromancy or other more directly-aggressive Disciplines. And for the most part, I was unconcerned with Divination, as a psyker skirted the edges of heresy with their passive visions enough as it was¡ªI did not see a need to invite more of that into my life. But having said that, I have practiced a very light degree of Divination. Less about visions, per se, but more about hints. Nudges. Feelings and hunches.


    It is hard to discern the difference between an ordinary paranoia of dread versus dread divined from the Warp¡ªsuch is another pitfall. But the advantages are that I can, at times, be compelled to certain areas or locations, compelled to make certain choices. Relying on this has rarely steered me wrong, and in many cases, has sent me exactly where I needed to be. Really, I have only found issue with these ¡®nudges¡¯ when in the presence of another Psyker, and at that, one who harbors malicious emotions and intents. I do not doubt it is this amateur Divinatory practice, combined with the blessing of the Throne, that is responsible for guiding my unconscious self through Vostroya¡¯s factory of horrors and into Penitent¡¯s arms. I also do not doubt that my Divinations got me there in the first place¡ªI felt like I should meet with Governor Merek, and look where that got me. Yes, terribly brutalized and on the verge of death. But look at what I learned, the scale of the horror I had uncovered. In trusting these little hints here and there, I had found the heretic, seen the enemy¡¯s moves, and in the end, I had survived them.


    But by far the best evidence as to the validity of my following of my ¡®instinct¡¯ occurred at the start of my Inquisitorial career, freshly promoted from having been an Interrogator under Scayn for so long. Before Thantalus, before I had anyone on my team at all, I felt the need to go to Abraxis-7. More specifically, to the Naval ships posted there.


    He has suffered catastrophic trauma. He shouldn¡¯t even be alive.


    Just voices, probably a medicae attending to a patient. Occasionally I pick up the thoughts behind stronger emotions, and must have done so then as I docked. A Lieutenant, flanked by a pair of Midshipmen, who were themselves flanked by noncoms, greeted me with a salute. ¡°Welcome aboard, Inquisitor Blackgar. I am Lieutenant Vadiza. Shall I notify Captain Virgil of your arrival, and arrange a meeting for you?¡± the Lieutenant asked.


    ¡°Notify your Captain I am here, yes, but a meeting will not be necessary unless he sees a need. Mine here do not concern him,¡± I replied. ¡°I am only here to requisition the services of a fighter pilot, if you happen to know a good one.¡± My welcoming party gave brief, snorting laughs to themselves for a moment before the Lieutenant hissed them to quietude. ¡°Something funny about that request, Lieutenant?¡±


    ¡°I believe the crew see the poor timing of the situation, sir,¡± Vadiza replied whilst giving his subordinates the stink-eye.


    ¡°Poor timing?¡±


    ¡°Well our best pilot is now in the brig, you see, sir,¡± Vadiza reported.


    ¡°On what grounds?¡±


    ¡°Attempted murder of a superior officer, sir. We would not risk giving them unto you, Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°I decide what you will risk doing, Lieutenant,¡± I rebuked him. Plus, I felt compelled to pursue this lead. ¡°Take me to him.¡±


    ¡°Her, sir,¡± Vadiza corrected, but nodded toward me. ¡°As you command. Right this way, sir,¡± he offered, standing aside, and gestured further onto his ship. ¡°May I assume you will wish to speak privately with her, sir?¡±


    ¡°You may,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°That will be arranged. But her charges require that she remain in her cell. Please notify any personnel if you believe you witness attempts at escape,¡± Vadiza explained.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get the sense that escape is the outcome for today,¡± I replied.


    He¡¯s not allowed to die, Castecael. You are not permitted to let him die.


    More voices as I carried on through the ship. I assumed the discourse was connected to the attempted murder I was just told about. As we neared the brig, Vadiza looked back at me with a curious, wanting look. ¡°We have other pilots,¡± he offered. ¡°This one¡¯s never been great with authority. I don¡¯t imagine she¡¯ll last long with you.¡±


    ¡°I suggest you cease trying to judge my predilections or desires, Lieutenant,¡± I replied dryly. ¡°How good is she?¡±


    ¡°According to her? She thinks she¡¯s the hottest shit this side of Cadia. She¡¯ll tell you that if you ask, watch,¡± Vadiza chuckled. ¡°She¡¯s good, I¡¯ll give her that. Great, even. But she¡¯s not worth the effort.¡±


    ¡°Again with the judgment. I suggest you limit the opinionated commentary, Lieutenant, or she won¡¯t be the only one in a brig,¡± I warned him. Though his back was to me as he led me through the ship, I still saw the pink of his skin whiten with the threat. I smirked. It was (mostly) an empty threat; I had little interest in interfering with the command organization of a Naval vessel over wordplay. But, as a former Guardsmen, I had every interest in messing with the Navy¡¯s heads a bit. ¡°She have a name? And when you answer, just answer.¡±


    ¡°Mirena Law, sir,¡± he answered. I waited for further comment. There was none. After a few minutes of more walking, we finally arrived at the brig, and Vadiza lead me past a few dozen cells before stopping at one. He tapped some commands into the keypad to release the cell¡¯s visual and auditory dampening fields, that its prisoner could see and hear beyond the confines of her room. ¡°All yours, sir,¡± Vadiza nodded to me before saluting and walking off.


    Frig off, Hans, she knows. No one wants him to live more than I do.


    ¡°Hope you don¡¯t expect me to stop just because you turned the lights on,¡± the prisoner told me. Her back was to me as she was doing some pull-ups within her cell. ¡°Not like I give a frig about insubordination at this point,¡± she grunted, pulling herself higher. She had bronze skin¡ªas a color, not to say she was a servitor or Skitarii¡ªand dark brown hair that had begun to grow in a bit from her last buzzcut. She was well-muscled, clearly having been spending a lot of her sentence exercising; a theory which was furthered from the extent of her sweat, of which she was drenched head to toe in it. One could be forgiven for thinking her flesh was actually oiled bronze from my view of her. As a prisoner, she was barely afforded any clothing¡ªjust a sleeveless black top that did not extend past her sternum, and a legless black bottom.


    ¡°Mirena Law?¡± I called to her.


    She cocked her head to the side, surprised about not recognizing my voice, but still did not face me. ¡°Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°They say you¡¯re a good pilot,¡± I started.


    ¡°Not anymore,¡± she replied, grunting again as she pulled herself up once more.


    ¡°How many of those are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t count the number, just the hours. On hour five today,¡± she replied.


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    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of exercise.¡±


    ¡°Gotta keep busy somehow. Like what you see?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I frowned.


    ¡°I¡¯m no idiot. I¡¯m not exactly wearing a lot in here, and I think I¡¯ve worked up a little bit of a sweat,¡± she explained.


    ¡°Ms. Law, the shape of your body is of little concern to me, so long as it is in fighting condition,¡± I replied.


    Hey. Hey! Cool it you two, cut it out! Get the frig out of here and let the doctor do her work. Don¡¯t make me order Czevia and Xavier to restrain you. Go get some friggin¡¯ air. Sorry, Castecael. You want me in here?


    ¡°Huh,¡± Law mused, and for a moment I thought she was hearing the same voices I was. It did not appear so, though. Usually people freak out the first time they start hearing things. I would know. She did one more pull-up, then let herself hang for a moment before dropping to the ground. She then stretched out a bit before turning to face me, where she then sized me up and down. ¡°You a stiff?¡±


    ¡°A stiff?¡± I asked, unfamiliar with the slang.


    ¡°Some formal type in the Imperium under the illusion that they¡¯re somehow better than everyone else?¡± she clarified.


    ¡°I am an Inquisitor¡ª¡± I began.


    ¡°So yes,¡± she interrupted, smirking. I grinned as well. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect that response.¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡±


    ¡°The one where you show any emotion or semblance of humanity,¡± she replied, widening her smile. ¡°So what does the big, bad, Inquisitor want with me?¡± she asked, taking mockingly provocative steps toward me with each sarcastic adjective.


    ¡°They say you tried killing your superior,¡± I began.


    ¡°The Inquisition has enough time on their hands to worry about that little thing?¡± she laughed, now right in front of me, leaning on the bars between us. I could smell her body odor, then, and she clearly was not being provided anything to alleviate that scent in prison.


    ¡°So it¡¯s true?¡±


    Her silvery eyes read my face up and down. To this day, I do not know what she was looking for. I do not get the sense that she cared about being interrogated by an Inquisitor. ¡°I las¡¯d his balls off.¡±


    Thank you, Silas, but no. The room should be as clear as possible.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like attempted murder to me, but what for?¡±


    ¡°Well after las¡¯ing his balls off I then las¡¯d his face off. That¡¯s probably the murder part. And what for?¡± she shrugged. ¡°Assault. Of the kind that is the natural conclusion of men staring at me when I exercise. Buncha you men in the Navy. You all suck, top to bottom.¡±


    ¡°Actually I served in the Guard,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Oh, even worse,¡± she chuckled.


    ¡°Were you a good pilot, Ms. Law?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°Best one this side of Cadia,¡± she nodded, flashing her teeth in a confident grin. ¡°But this bird has had its wings clipped. Worth it, though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in need of a pilot, Ms. Law,¡± I told her, but she immediately backed away.


    ¡°Nope,¡± she shook her head, turning around and jumping back up to the bar she was using for pull-ups. ¡°The guy I las¡¯d wasn¡¯t the first. But he was the last. I¡¯m done flying in tin cans with men. I¡¯m done with men. If they wanna put me down for that, fine.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t ever harm you, Ms. Law,¡± I tried to assure her.


    ¡°And I¡¯m just supposed to take your word on that? The word of someone¡ªa man¡ªwith absolute authority to do whatever he wants in the galaxy? Pass,¡± she replied.


    I paused and sighed, unsure how to carry the conversation. My gut, no, my mind was telling me that I was where I needed to be. If not her, then who? I looked around a bit to make sure no one could have been listening in, and then addressed her again. ¡°Ms. Law, I was a Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Honeblade Warhawks,¡± I began.


    ¡°I¡¯m very proud of you,¡± she replied dryly.


    ¡°I am also a psyker. And in what should have likely been my last battle, in extreme duress, my abilities revealed themselves. I killed¡­the 8<sup>th</sup> Honeblade Warhawks,¡± I explained, and took a deep breath. Law dropped to the floor, but did not turn to face me. ¡°I do not mean to intimidate you with this, but¡­I killed my men. My friends. And I will spend the rest of my life living in penance for that. If you join me, Ms. Law, I will not touch you. I could not bring myself to. I am a man, yes, but I am the last one in the galaxy that you need to fear.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the 8<sup>th</sup>,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I smiled weakly. ¡°Throne, I do hope I never need to share that story with anyone else. Don¡¯t think I have that in me, either,¡± I sighed, and looked up at the ceiling to catch my breath. When I looked forward again, Law was again leaning on the bars between us, again staring me up and down.


    ¡°Even if I trusted you not to touch me, I have to assume it wouldn¡¯t just be me and you, buddying around the galaxy together. There¡¯d be others, wouldn¡¯t there? And I¡¯d have to trust them,¡± she explained. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Ms. Law, I am a psyker. One of unfortunately great power. If you willed it, I could keep an eye on you¡ªor on everyone but you¡ªand if anyone tried to lay a hand on you¡ªor merely had the thought to¡ªI could shove their skulls through their waists and out the other end,¡± I explained. ¡°I can promise your safety with me, Ms. Law.¡±


    ¡°Mirena.¡±


    ¡°OK, Mirena,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°And there would need to be¡­conditions,¡± she warned me.


    ¡°Name them,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°Well, firstly, you would need to not reprimand me for disrespect of authority. I¡¯ll follow orders, sure, but I¡¯m way past respect in life,¡± she smiled.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a tough one,¡± I chuckled. ¡°You may receive an order to show some respect as a situation demands it. No problems there, I assume?¡± she shook her head. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you. Not yet. But you need to trust me. Never question my piloting skills, especially not in action. Don¡¯t even think to offer distracting advice. You need to trust that I can out-think and out-maneuver anyone or anything you¡¯d ever find, human or not.¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯d never question the best pilot this side of Cadia,¡± I shook my head. That confident smile of hers returned.


    ¡°You learn quick. Third, and this is a requirement, you and I need to share a drink after any successful op. It¡¯s a matter of Naval Security,¡± she insisted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t drink,¡± I told her, tapping my head. She shrugged.


    ¡°That can change. Ever hear of Gleece?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Well, that can change too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give it a try. Anything more you want? Maybe a private planet?¡±


    ¡°Oh sure, please,¡± she laughed. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll think of something.¡±


    ¡°So we have a deal, for now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I think so,¡± she nodded, then leaned back a bit to spit into her hand before holding it out to me through the bars of her cell. I looked at her, unamused, and she smiled and winked at me. I began to raise a hand to shake hers, but she chided me. ¡°Ah ah, take that glove off.¡± I gave her another disdainful look, and was rewarded with a second wink. Reluctantly, I obliged, and instead of shaking, she pulled me in closer to her cell. Or tried to. ¡°Huh, you¡¯re stronger than you look. Come here, I don¡¯t bite. Often.¡± Figuring I had nothing to lose, I obliged her again, leaning on my shoulder against her cell. She did the same, still gripping my hand tight as she could. ¡°You have to be totally mad in that head of yours to think you¡¯re making a good choice right now.¡±


    +Mirena, I think I¡¯m making the best choice. And how insane are you for willingly getting involved with the Inquisition?+ I messaged her.


    ¡°That¡¯s less terrifying than I thought it¡¯d be. You got a name, Inquisitor?¡±


    ¡°Callant Blackgar,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Get me out of this shithole, Cal, and I¡¯ll fly you anywhere you want,¡± she told me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Cal,¡± I shook my head, and though she continued to rob me of one of my hands, I used the other to start inputting commands of my own onto the cogitator for her cell, bypassing and undermining the Navy¡¯s framework.


    ¡°I think I will. Just `cause it seems to irk you,¡± she smiled. ¡°I¡¯m your first, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°First what?¡±


    ¡°First¡­person you¡¯ve had. Since the 8<sup>th</sup>. I am sorry about them, again,¡± she explained.


    ¡°Yes, you are,¡± I nodded, then finally got her cell open. I had expected her to leap out of her cell and break into a sprint. Not to escape from me, necessarily¡ªI was confident in our pact. Just to run for the sake of running, to stretch her legs. But, instead, all she did was finally release my hand from her grasp and calmly step out of her cell, to my side. ¡°Mirena, let¡¯s get out of here. I hate the Navy.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± she agreed. ¡°So, what, we just walk out?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Anyone gets in an Inquisitor¡¯s way, they¡¯ll lose more than their balls and face,¡± I replied. ¡°I have a ship in the hangar, with a navigator. It¡¯s yours now.¡±


    ¡°Better be fast,¡± she grinned, and began walking with me. ¡°You know, there¡¯s a sad irony, here.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    Mirena loosed a sigh. ¡°I used to be quite a hugger. Squad always gave me shit for it, not that they ever turned me down. But now? I don¡¯t even want to hug the guy who freed me from prison, from a death sentence. Doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯m¡­me.¡±


    ¡°I know what that¡¯s like,¡± I agreed with a frown. ¡°Believe me. Probably for the best¡ªyou¡¯re covered in sweat right now. You give me a hug when you¡¯re good and ready¡­and not sweaty. Or don¡¯t. I think I¡¯d rather if you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Oh well now you¡¯re just dooming yourself to one at some point.¡±


    ¡°That guy you shot. Your¡­superior,¡± I started, and felt disgusted calling him that in front of her. ¡°Did you let him live?¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s still alive, no?¡± she asked, confused with the question.


    ¡°He is, but did you want him to be?¡±


    Her reply was not immediate. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then I have a requirement for operating in my service, Mirena. You let me teach you how to kill someone. To a measure of certainty. In the Inquisition, you may only get one chance. And when you take it, it must succeed. I cannot let you provide our foes with an opportunity of survival,¡± I explained to her.


    ¡°Deal,¡± she agreed. ¡°Thank you, Cal.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Cal.¡±


    Please live, Cal. I need you to live. I owe you a drink. Please live. I love you.

 Chapter 13 - Awakening

    I have, in my admittedly-brief 78 years of life, dwelled on the role of love in the Imperium. For being an emotion, it seems paradoxically logical. Without love, the Imperium would not exist. It is by His love that there is light in the galaxy at all, and it is our love for Him that carries us to our duties. On a less theological scale, without love, there would not be men and women to serve in the Imperium¡ªunless you wanted to pursue the depravity of Vostroya¡¯s vile heresy, that is. And yet love is repressed far and wide throughout every regimental institution of the Astra Militarum, Inquisition included.


    This repression, as I have understood it, is unsuccessful. I have heard of love within the Inquisition itself on multiple occasions. I have heard of love even within the Mechanicus, insofar as they allow themselves the capacity for emotion. And I had loved the 8<sup>th</sup>. I assume love must have its limits. It must, as if not tempered it could turn to lust, and that beckons a path with emergent, deadly, heretical outcomes. And through such reasoning, I assume love of another cannot exceed one¡¯s devotion to the Throne. That, I reckon, must be the limit, that anything within such bounds is within reason, and to feel anything beyond is to consort with heresy.


    The great tragedy of the Arch-Traitor is that his Father still loved him, even in the end. An end, brought to bear by the Father. For it is He that is the limit, and the Arch-Traitor succumbed to the curious temptations beyond.


    ***


    There was darkness. And the darkness presented a first for me in a long while: an unending quietude. I was at peace, without the torment of the Warp in my head. If I was alive it must have still been there, just merely at bay. I liked it.


    This quiet darkness lasted for an eternity.


    And then I heard a voice.


    I could not make out whose it was, or what they were saying. The sound was muffled to complete obfuscation. But it was a voice, and it was saying something¡ªthe cadence of the sound was unmistakably communicative. Whoever they were, they carried on for a time. And then they stopped. I did not need to hear the words themselves to understand what was said last, as I had heard them often enough to recognize them by tempo alone. ¡°Goodnight, Cal.¡± Even understanding the message, I could not recognize the sender. The quiet darkness returned.


    It lasted for far more than a single night should have. If I had heard a member of my crew wish me goodnight, they would have slept, awoken, and gone about a day, and I was none the wiser. I was again in damaged isolation. But even that ended, and when it did, I heard the voices, plural, again. The voices in my head. The Warp was there, but it was not speaking to me. Instead, people were speaking through it, unknowingly, and I was receiving. I was feeling their thoughts. I felt Silas. He was anxious, uncomfortable, feeling powerless. I had been in his state before, to have been a man of great capability and then placed in a position in which you cannot do anything to help. I was in that state at the time. I felt Penitent. She was wracked with guilt, and praying to the Throne for forgiveness, but there was a glimmer of hope in her¡ªthe hope that I would yet live and she could atone for having, as she believed, failed me. I felt Okustin. He was angry, enraged, and had nowhere to direct his fury. So it fell inward upon himself. He knew it, and he knew to temper his wrath to hone it into something useful. But he felt despair, because, like Silas, he could not see a use for wrath in his current situation.


    I felt Zha. She was mortified and despaired. I understood. As different as we were, she and I had endured similar fates in having lost everyone we once cared about, she on Thantalus. She had not reconciled with that loss. And now she thought she was losing me. I felt Castecael. She, too, felt powerless. There was nothing more for her to do but wait and pray. But a medicae¡ªa good one¡ªalways wanted to do more. There was no more. I felt Czevia. She felt claustrophobic and torn. I got the sense we were no longer in Abseradon, as she felt uncomfortable about her environment. Horrid scent aside, the Hive City would have reminded her of home. And now she was without that reminder, taken from it due to my injuries. I felt Xavier. He was meditative. There was an anger in him, but it was controlled. He, like me, had been trained to handle his emotions. But I felt his desire to be angrier than he was, and the shame that he was not.


    I could not feel Luther Vaigg.


    I could feel, however, Mirena. In more ways than one. As numbness slowly ebbed from my body and physicality returned, I had managed to garner an understanding of my state of being. That involved a difficulty breathing, and in my thought-scans, I understood why: Mirena was laying atop me, clinging to me like a child would its mother. And I heard her twice; I heard her thoughts, and her voice, and they were identical, if slightly desynchronized, as she was speaking to me. ¡°¡ªsparred with Hans today. Again. He and I don¡¯t really get along, so I enjoy fighting him. I landed a few good ones on him today, which was satisfying. But I think he appreciates the opportunity to let some of his anger out too. It¡¯s probably good for both of us. Silas doesn¡¯t approve, but he doesn¡¯t try to stop us either. He¡¯s¡­I¡¯ve never known him to be so weak. Not that I think he is weak, because I don¡¯t, in fact I think he¡¯s a man of incredible character. But without you, he seems a little lost. I think we all are.¡±


    ¡°Mirena,¡± I called to her.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see, Penitent has been doing her own thing, on her knees, head down. You know, you¡¯ve seen it. She hasn¡¯t spoken much beyond her prayers. Zha has been trying to keep busy. I think she¡¯s working on a star chart¡­no, that isn¡¯t right. She¡¯s looking at the sky. Maybe tracking the coming and going of starships? I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t want to disturb her. Cast has been¡­fine. You know her, she always wants to help, and we all need it. I¡¯ve been trying to keep her settled, grounded. She tries not to look worried, because she doesn¡¯t want to worry everyone else. But she is. And we are.¡±


    ¡°Mirena,¡± I called again, louder this time. With more focus and intent. I could see the entire spectrum of her thoughts, but I had not penetrated into her head to an extent in which I could insert my own.


    ¡°Cal?¡± she asked softly, startled. Or maybe I had managed to reach her. She looked over the motionless man she was resting upon, and found that I had not moved. ¡°Cal?¡± she asked again, louder, still searching me over for the slightest hint of life. ¡°Castecael!¡± Mirena shouted, and sat up on my gut, placing her hands on my shoulders, then off my body entirely.


    Another¡¯s thought-words entered the room, and I again heard them in parallel with her speaking. ¡°Mirena? What is it? Is he alright?¡± Castecael asked, immediately taking to assessing my condition. I could feel her cradling my head in her hands. Eventually, she opened my eyes and shone a light in them. For the first time in eons, there was light, and it was blinding. It was beautiful. By then, a great many thoughts began to crowd around me. ¡°He¡¯s conscious, but only barely responsive,¡± Castecael told everyone.


    ¡°Gradshi,¡± Silas half-barked half-requested with as much eager politeness as he could muster. ¡°Can you communicate with him?¡±


    ¡°I can try better than that, sir. If you¡¯re in there, Mr. Blackgar, I am going to take your hand,¡± Xavier told me. If he did so, I did not feel it. ¡°You are a welcome guest in my mind. But I will need to enter yours first, establish a connection, provide you with my strength. You understand. I will let you speak through me, if you will it.¡± A moment later, my universe exploded with electric warmth. I felt my body stretch and shake as Xavier¡¯s tremendous power flooded into me, he giving himself unto me, for me. I could feel as he felt. He carried my mind along the conduit of his spirit, and revealed to me the heart of his being. It is an indescribable thing, thinking within another¡¯s mind. It is yet more unknowable to be there with control. I had heard there was an Inquisitor in Scarus that could do this to his Agents over great distances; I could not fathom that sort of power.


    Xavier made a low droning noise for a few moments as he showed me the means with which to speak again. Then, the droning was given form, and that form grew to grammar and attenuation. ¡°Hhhhoooowwww,¡± Xavier spoke, but it was really me doing the talking.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a few weeks, sir, don¡¯t think about it,¡± Silas replied, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing at it intensely. I felt as though he was going to rip it off, but to be within the safety of his hands was welcome.


    ¡°Nooo,¡± I replied, starting to better grasp Xavier¡¯s form. ¡°How¡­is¡­Luther?¡±


    That seemed to break the crowd around me. Mirena cupped her hands over her mouth, laughing and crying. Silas and Okustin did their best to repress their own tears, and failed. ¡°Luther is alive, Cal,¡± Castecael replied, short on breath. I believe I released a tear of my own, then. ¡°He¡¯s¡­he is in a coma. But he is alive, and expected to recover. He¡­should I tell him?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Silas shook his head. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I demanded, which made Mirena laugh a bit more, still crying.


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    ¡°He landed on the Bird, sir, after asking for its assistance. The fall was shorter for it, which probably saved his life,¡± Castecael explained. ¡°But the impact¡­has paralyzed him. Waist down. I can fix that paralysis, treat it over time. He may not be the soldier he was, but I can put him on his feet again. The procedure would be invasive, though, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I should wait for him to awaken just to put him under for an operation or to do it now without his consent.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­for¡­him,¡± I ordered.


    ¡°I will, sir,¡± Castecael nodded.


    ¡°Where¡­are¡­we?¡±


    ¡°Immediate vicinity? We¡¯re on the Bird, sir,¡± Okustin confirmed. ¡°But we¡¯re no longer in Abseradon. Still on Hestia Majoris, but we fled the city. One continent and all, the city is still in view and we¡¯re all a bit uncomfortable still seeing it. But this seemed like the most secure location¡ªan old temple to Holy Terra, many millennia of age, abandoned. Collapsed ceiling, if we need to leave. Pretty mossy here, frankly¡ªHestia Majoris being as bio-rich as it is. I¡¯ll give you the tour soon, sir,¡± Okustin assured me, smiling.


    ¡°Ms.¡­Trantos,¡± I called.


    ¡°Present, Mr. Blackgar, and overjoyed,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Where¡­Penitent¡­found¡­me. The¡­structure. Demolished?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Blackgar,¡± she confirmed.


    ¡°How¡­long¡­would¡­it¡­take¡­a¡­crew¡­to¡­get¡­a¡­body¡­count?¡± I asked.


    ¡°By my estimates, Mr. Blackgar, accounting for observed Abseradon bureaucracy and the extent of the radial, collateral damage, approximately sixty-six days,¡± she answered.


    ¡°You¡­all¡­have¡­until¡­then¡­before¡­they¡­know¡­I¡¯m¡­alive,¡± I told the group. ¡°They¡­will¡­be¡­angry, but¡­they¡­are¡­smart. They¡­will¡­not¡­make¡­another¡­mistake,¡± I warned them.


    ¡°Who are they, sir?¡± Silas asked, a flame on his voice.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    I paused, and took a moment to gather my strength for my response. I felt I was getting a better handle on communicating in this manner. ¡°You cannot look for them. Prying eyes are targets. They will see you. Abseradon is theirs. Governor Merek is theirs. But we are not without allies. Their reach is landlocked, for now. Ours reaches to the sky. Establish contact with Battlefleet Ixaniad. They have ships stationed above Hestia Majoris. I will want their services when I am more able. Everyone, I am sorry for leaving as I did. But I have seen the enemy. And I will visit our wrath upon them. They are not as fortunate as I am; they do not have you. They will not survive us. There is one thing you all can do.¡±


    Okustin nodded. ¡°Name it.¡±


    ¡°Look upon what is plainly visible. Do not dig, but see the surface of the city. There is a rogue trader that eluded my earlier search. He is Vostroyan. If you find him, you find them. I believe he is their logistics operative. He is central to their plans. But I caution you, again, do not pry. Do not search. See only what is shown,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Understood, sir. We¡¯ll keep our heads down,¡± Silas assured me.


    ¡°Xavier, thank you for your help. Let me rest. I want a word with Mirena. In private,¡± I told the group. ¡°I¡¯ll manage with the strength I have for that.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir,¡± Okustin replied as Xavier let me slip back into my body. I thanked him again as I left. Many hands came and went from me, then, but soon enough the many thought-voices left, all feeling more positive than they had expected for themselves.


    +Mirena,+ I called to her, she still sitting on my gut. Even having been a bit empowered by Xavier, my ability to send thoughts into people¡¯s minds remained limited. Mirena¡¯s word choice, spoken in her mind as a thought about my psyker-voice, was ¡®quiet.¡¯


    ¡°Going to reprimand me for sitting and sleeping on you these past few days?¡± she asked, laughing. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± I could not move, but I did smile. My mind did, rather. She was a fun, eccentric woman. Was from the day I met her. ¡°Cal?¡± she asked, and I realized I had not replied. I was thinking about her, and not thinking to her.


    +I love you too,+ I told her then, replying to what was likely a prayer said to me many days¡ªor even weeks¡ªago.


    Her thoughts scrambled. I do not believe she was expecting that response, and certainly not the ¡®too¡¯ part of it. She paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond herself, and ultimately chose to collapse back upon me, embracing me in another breath-impairing hug. She nestled her head between my own and my right shoulder, and I believe she kissed the lower part of my cheek, though it was soft enough and I was numb enough that I could only barely tell. Confusion ran rampant in her mind, uncertainty about how to reply. Thoughts about Castecael kept surfacing in her head, too.


    +I know,+ I messaged her.


    ¡°You know what?¡± she laughed. ¡°It should have been my turn to respond.¡±


    +You were taking too long,+ I teased her. +I know you love Castecael too.+


    ¡°She¡­yes. She knows I have feelings for you. She doesn¡¯t mind me spending my nights with you, like this. Which I have been, by the way. She was a little worried it¡¯d slow or impair your recovery, but there weren¡¯t any apparent effects. She¡­I love her more than you, Cal. She knows that, trusts it. But I do love you. You¡¯re invaluable to me, as she is,¡± Mirena explained.


    +Then we are in the same ship,+ I told her, and meant to explain, but she cracked the obvious joke.


    ¡°She¡¯s mine, Cal, hands off,¡± she replied, referring to Castecael, and laughed to herself.


    +I didn¡¯t mean her,+ I clarified, which I think she knew. +I¡¯m in love with Penitent.+ Much easier to admit something in your thoughts than to speak it aloud.


    Mirena was surprised by that, somehow. I do not know who she thought I may have loved if not Penitent. (Or Castecael) Perhaps Zha or Okustin, for their inquisitiveness? Or Silas, for our comradery? ¡°Oh,¡± Mirena managed to reply, slightly taken aback, but did not release me from her lung-crushing grasp.


    +It is a doomed feeling. She owes herself to her oaths and I will not distract her from them, nor come between them. But yes, I am infatuated with her devotion, her valor, her compassion, and her serenity. And she is the first person I¡¯ve ever seen to rival your beauty,+ I explained to her. +Which is what I wanted to discuss.+


    ¡°Oh I¡¯m happy to talk about how gorgeous I am, Cal, lay it on me,¡± she laughed.


    +I lied to you.+


    ¡°OK, not where I thought this was going,¡± she admitted. ¡°When? About what?¡±


    +When we met. You were exercising, and barely clothed. You were a stunning sight, and you knew it. You knew the implications of it. And I lied and said I only cared about your fighting ability, but I have wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. And I have hated myself for it. You are impossibly beautiful, Mirena Law, and I have grown to love you as my closest friend. Closer, even, than Thaddeus. But our relationship, your service to me, it was founded on an intentional lie, one that abused and betrayed your victimhood. And having been so close to death, I cannot keep that from you any longer,+ I explained to her.


    Her response, then, was the last thing I had anticipated. She pulled herself in front of me and planted her lips to mine, holding my head in her hands for what felt like an eternity. When she did lift herself off me, she smiled and laughed, admitting, ¡°You know, you¡¯re kind of a bad kisser when you¡¯re just a thinking corpse.¡±


    +Frig off, Mirena,+ I replied.


    ¡°I¡¯ll want another one when you¡¯re up and about. Gotta know, right?¡± she smiled. ¡°Callant Blackgar,¡± she started, and it hit me that that was the first time in my life that she had said my full name. I had always been Cal to her. ¡°You are not the man I tried to kill. You are not those men. You could not be further from them. You think Castecael looks at me and doesn¡¯t think about what she¡¯s getting? You think I look at her and don¡¯t think she¡¯s a star? You think I look at you and¡­don¡¯t curse the multitude of years we¡¯ve been together, but apart? Clean that voidshit out of your head, Cal. It¡¯s making you uncharacteristically dumb,¡± she suggested. ¡°You saw me in that cell and saw the frigging beauty that I am,¡± she giggled. ¡°I saw you outside my cell and saw some asshole who thought they were better than everyone else.¡±


    +A stiff,+ I corrected her.


    ¡°Yeah, that,¡± she laughed. ¡°If anyone should be apologizing, Cal, it¡¯s me, for being so frigging wrong about my initial assumption about you, when you only made observations about me. That¡¯s what they train you for, right? Observe, assess, but not to assume. That¡¯s why you¡¯re you and I¡¯m¡­the ex-inmate with a great ass and the best pilot in all the galaxy.¡±


    +That¡¯s a step up from the Cadia thing,+ I noted.


    ¡°You¡¯ve given me some opportunities for me to stroke the ego,¡± she replied. ¡°Cal, you and I,¡± she started, and then released a single breath of a laugh. ¡°We work. We work really well, I think. There have been some nights¡ªmany, actually¡ªwhere I have wondered¡­about you. About you and me. Whether I¡¯m with you as a colleague, or a partner, or anything else, I will love you for the rest of my life. And I imagine I will continue to long for you, too. Maybe¡­maybe maybe maybe.¡±


    +Maybe you and I could be a pair,+ I understood.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she nodded. ¡°Maybe. But we aren¡¯t. We¡¯re just¡­what we are.¡±


    +Yeah,+ I agreed. +How long are you going to be sleeping on me for, by the way?+


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I might start taking up residence up here, if you take too long,¡± she giggled. ¡°In the beginning, when I first did so, I told myself I¡¯d hug you until you hugged me back. Doesn¡¯t seem so far now. And I wouldn¡¯t feel right, knowing you¡¯re in there, alone, and leaving you all by yourself. So I think you might be stuck with me, until you can get rid of me.¡±


    +Well at least you¡¯re not as sweaty as you were in your cell,+ I replied.


    ¡°That can change,¡± she smiled. ¡°Hey, um, I really don¡¯t want to kill the mood¡ª`cause I am enjoying this heart-to-heart¡ªbut, Cal, can you see me? In your head?¡±


    +Yes.+ I could, in vivid detail. Unlike in her cell over Abraxis-7, she was fully clothed in a pitch-black bodyglove¡ªher usual flight attire, suitable for responding to emergencies mid-operation¡ªsave for her neck and face, which were still as glistening bronze as ever. And her silver eyes remained piercingly confident. Her hair had been buzzed down, relative to her Abraxian cell, though that was not a requirement I imposed upon her. She disliked having long hair.


    ¡°Can you see you?¡±


    +I haven¡¯t tried.+


    ¡°OK, before you try, um, shit. Should¡¯ve brought this up while Castecael was here, but there¡¯s something you need to know, Cal,¡± she started, stress mounting inside her.


    ¡°I lost my left arm,¡± I replied. She was surprised, but only for a moment, and her stress proceeded to simmer down. She nodded solemnly. +I figured that would happen. I saw the wound. I certainly felt the wound. I don¡¯t feel it anymore.+


    ¡°It was horribly infected. Castecael didn¡¯t have a choice; she had to remove it before the infection spread through your body. You do have a replacement arm, though¡ªCastecael affixed an augmetic for you. Do you feel that?¡±


    +Not yet. I trust I will, in time. Thank her for me when next you see her,+ I told her.


    ¡°Of course. Your replacement, according to her, is not the best¡ªshe recommended you get something more state-of-the-art when we¡¯re done with Abseradon. But it won¡¯t septic, and it should be capable of everything your first arm was,¡± Mirena explained.


    +Well if nothing else, maybe those AdMechs will be a little more receptive to me in the future,+ I suggested.


    ¡°Right,¡± she laughed.


    +You¡¯re tired, Mirena. You should sleep.+


    ¡°I kinda don¡¯t want to. Would rather keep talking to you,¡± she replied, and then leaned in and kissed my cheek again. ¡°You are warmer than you have been. I suppose that makes sense.¡±


    +It¡¯s up to you. But I really think you should rest. I¡¯m not going anywhere.+


    ¡°Damn right you¡¯re not,¡± she said. ¡°I won¡¯t let you.¡±

 Chapter 14 - Devotion

    When I had first ¡®awoken¡¯ to speak to everyone, it had been 26 days since I had escaped Vostroya¡¯s facility. Castecael¡¯s medicae wonders proved tremendously effective for me¡ªhad she more resources, I likely could have gotten on my feet even sooner. To that point, it was six days more before I was able to gather some physical functionality again¡ªopening my eyes and speaking. But moving and using limbs¡ªwhile I was beginning to feel the augmetic arm¡ªwere still well beyond me. It was not until day 41 that, in the evening, during my nightly talks with Mirena¡ªand she had been with me every night¡ªI was at last able to lift both arms up and give her the hug she had been waiting for. She had spent some time not with me, to be clear. She had her responsibilities to attend to, and others wanted some time to chat with me. But for the latter ten hours of each day, she kept me company, if usually sleeping for five-to-six of those hours.


    Regardless, when my hug did arrive, it caught her off-guard, as she had been beginning to cuddle up with me for a night¡¯s rest. ¡°You¡¯re¡­Cal, congrats. Welcome back,¡± she whispered to me.


    ¡°Thank you, Mirena,¡± I replied, able to grin weakly.


    ¡°I can finally leave you, then, if you¡¯d like,¡± she offered with a giggle.


    ¡°I think¡­I think I¡¯d rather you stay the night,¡± I told her. She broke into one of her beautiful laughs, and then leaned over me and embraced me in another direct kiss. I was able to return it that time, at last, and this one lasted far, far longer than our first.


    When she did finally come up for air, she leaned over me and kissed my forehead, and then settled down atop me. ¡°Not a bad kisser after all. Could use some work, though,¡± she admitted with a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m not your first in that regard, am I?¡±


    I gently shook my head. ¡°Some girl on Aqaeus-4. Don¡¯t know her name. It was during the 8<sup>th</sup>¡¯s farewell ceremony before we moved to a different posting. I don¡¯t remember much of the event, but I remember that. You?¡±


    She released a snorting chuckle, then shook her head. ¡°Castecael. Hey, so uh, now that you¡¯re able¡ªrelatively speaking, anyways¡ªdo you want to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mirena, I do. But no. I don¡¯t think we should,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°Yeah, probably wise. But¡­damn,¡± she laughed, winking to me. ¡°Seems I won¡¯t have a sweaty hug with you after all,¡± she added, still laughing, then leaned in to kiss me once more, though far briefer than before. ¡°Goodnight, Cal. These were some good nights. For me, at least. I hope I¡¯ve been good enough company for you.¡±


    ¡°Mirena, these have been the best nights of my life,¡± I replied. ¡°Goodnight.¡±


    And that was that. In the morning of the 42<sup>nd</sup> day, she left me as she usually did. I spent my day reaching my arms to the ceiling of the Bird, stretching, grasping at air. I also moved my legs a little bit back and forth. In the evening, Mirena did stop by, but only to wish me goodnight, and to give me one final kiss on my cheek. I was back to sleeping on my own, as I had for 54 years before then.


    On the 44<sup>th</sup> day, I sat up and began unplugging some tubes and equipment from my body that Castecael had equipped me with. That caught some eyes, and garnered some protests, including from Castecael. I dismissed all the concerns. The quartet that had confronted me to insist I remain in my medicae unit¡ªPenitent, Silas, Mirena, and Castecael¡ªseemed to accept that I was not going to budge on my unplugging of myself, and so backed down for a brief moment. Then I hopped off the unit and landed on my feet, and would have collapsed onto my face had Silas and Penitent not caught me. ¡°Whoa, boss, cool it. One step at a time, please,¡± Silas insisted, hoisting me to a standing position with Penitent¡¯s help, though they each needed to keep me steady lest I collapse again.


    ¡°No time for that,¡± I shook my head, teeth clenched. ¡°Take me to Luther. That¡¯s an order. I don¡¯t care which of you fulfills it, just get me to him.¡±


    My quartet obliged. Well, Penitent and Silas did the heavy lifting, with Castecael and Mirena following close behind. On our way through the Bird, we passed by Okustin, who asked, ¡°What¡¯s all this, then?¡±


    ¡°Field trip,¡± Silas replied bluntly.


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± Okustin invited himself. There were no complaints.


    They brought me to Luther¡¯s medicae unit, which was much the same as mine. He laid in it, motionless, as I had been. He was visibly far less broken than I had been, however. ¡°You will see me bleed,¡± I spoke then. ¡°I may pass out. You will keep me here, and not take me away from him, or you will be relieved of your services. Tell me you understand.¡±


    ¡°I understand you¡¯re too devoted, Cal,¡± Penitent replied.


    ¡°What she said,¡± Silas agreed.


    ¡°Your complaints are noted,¡± I shrugged, and then forced myself into Luther¡¯s head with all the strength I had. He was quiet. There was no inner monologue, no speaking. Just familiar, empty darkness. But I knew he was in there. I had been in that eternal darkness, and Mirena ensured I not suffer it alone. Luther did not deserve to be alone. I gave his mind what strength mine had, as Xavier had done for me, and the scene shifted into a familiar nightmare.


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    I was in it. Pinned to a desk with a platoon of soldiers atop me. Luther was gunning them down. ¡°Multiple contacts!¡± he shouted into his vox. ¡°Command withheld! Send the Bird!¡±


    And then the fire.


    His body seared, and he fell like a rock toward the cloud layer below. Plummeting, falling, wind ripping past his scorched face. He spun and tumbled, and then as he neared the clouds, a sheet of grey metal emerged from it, unknowingly racing toward him. He had already fired his Grav-Chutes, which had only begun to slow his fall. But it was not enough, and he hit the Bird, hard, crunching against its metal hull. And then the darkness returned, though it did not last long.


    I was in Merek¡¯s office again, pinned to the desk. Luther was gunning them down. I would not see his fate a third time. ¡°Multiple contacts!¡± Luther shouted into his vox. But there were no Psykanic Dampeners in Merek¡¯s office in Luther¡¯s nightmare. Before he could continue, I reached for him and broke myself out of this nightmare, forcing his mind to come up with another scene.


    I was somewhere I had never been. A titanic Hive City, dwarfing Abseradon in verticality. Yellow clouds wafted far below, and even further under them, mountains stretched across this world. An orange sunset simmered in the distance, the upper skies beginning to fall to purple hues. ¡°I don¡¯t recall you ever being here, sir,¡± Luther called from behind me. I turned around. ¡°Throne, you look like hell.¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡± I replied, and looked myself over. I couldn¡¯t see any wounds, but a drop of blood did fall from my face onto my jacket. ¡°Sorry about that. Where are we, Luther?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± he asked, laughing. ¡°Harakon. My home. What do you think of the view?¡± he asked, nodding forward to gesture behind me, where I had seen the sunset.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, Luther,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a sight like it. We¡¯re so high up,¡± I could not help but observe. He laughed again. ¡°There¡¯s things moving down there, in the mountains,¡± I told him.


    ¡°Vapour wyrms, yeah,¡± he told me, still laughing at my na?vet¨¦. ¡°We hunt them in training. Learn to fly, to give chase, to not fear heights or anything else. Sir, this isn¡¯t real, is it?¡±


    ¡°It is to you,¡± I replied.


    ¡°It is, yeah. But you¡¯re not, sir,¡± he observed. I nodded. ¡°You¡¯re in my head?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in a bad way, aren¡¯t I? There¡¯s¡­I was falling,¡± he stammered.


    ¡°You were falling. You are, yeah. You tried to save me, Luther. And you nearly gave your life for it. I will eternally owe you mine,¡± I told him, wanting to go on but he put a hand up, and shook his head.


    ¡°No, sir. I don¡¯t subscribe to debts like that. I won¡¯t have it. I owe myself to the Throne, and if I gave myself up for you, it¡¯s because I believed you could have done more for the Throne than I could. Which is what I believe, sir,¡± he replied. I was on the verge of tears, having not seen such dedication to a cause since the 8<sup>th</sup>. ¡°Am I dying, sir?¡±


    ¡°No, Luther, you¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°Then I don¡¯t see the problem.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be paralyzed. Your waist, your legs,¡± I explained. The sunset finally finished, and night had fallen. It was not a sudden change, but it happened quickly enough to certainly be indicative of the change in mood. ¡°Castecael believes she can help you get that functionality back, but I¡¯ve been looking into the augmetic spinal designs. Harakon is too low-grav; the augmetics would not survive, and they¡¯d permanently cripple you¡ªor kill you¡ªif you ever returned here. So you can be paralyzed, but see your home, or an amazing soldier, but never see that sunset again. And that is what I owe you, Luther. That is what my work has cost you.¡±


    Luther looked at me a long time, then, expressionlessly staring at me. I continued to bleed in front of him. A few hours into the night passed over what were merely some minutes. Then, finally, he spoke up. ¡°Did I serve you well, sir?¡±


    ¡°Better than any other, Luther.¡±


    ¡°Would you have me serve Holy Terra again, were I able?¡±


    A tear at last joined the blood on my face. ¡°It would be my honor, Luther.¡±


    ¡°Then I need not see the sun set on Harakon again. And that¡¯s the end of it. You will pay your debt to me through my own service to you. And you will not seek further penance, as that will suffice for me,¡± Luther decided. ¡°Tell Ms. Rock to give me the augmetic. It will be a fine gift to wake up to.¡±


    ¡°You cannot know how proud I am, Luther, to have served the Throne by your side, nor how happy I will be to do so again in the future. You are an excellent soldier,¡± I told him, and saluted him. He returned the gesture. ¡°I can leave you here, Luther, or help your mind to another memory, before you wake. It¡¯s your call.¡±


    ¡°I think I would like to see the sunrise, sir,¡± he told me. I nodded, and left him on Harakon, returning to my own mind and body. In doing so, I returned to a world of pain, as my ears were ringing and I was heaving out breath after breath. Silas and Penitent had laid me on the ground of the Bird, next to Luther, clearly believing I should not have been standing.


    ¡°You done with the voidshit in your head yet?¡± Mirena asked me as I came to, arms crossed, standing over me.


    ¡°Not quite,¡± I grunted. ¡°Castecael,¡± I started. My medicae was tending to me, making sure I was alright. She moved her face ahead of me, worried red eyes looking me up and down. ¡°Give Luther the spinal augmetic. He wants it.¡±


    ¡°I will, Cal. Can we return you to your unit now, please?¡± she pleaded with me.


    ¡°I think¡­no. Penitent, Silas, are you willing to take me elsewhere?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Silas shook his head.


    ¡°Where do you wish to go, Cal?¡± Penitent asked, and planted her hands under me, cradling my still-crippled form in her arms. ¡°I will take you there.¡±


    ¡°I wish to see the sky,¡± I told her, which was lacking a great deal of description. Even so, she nodded, and hoisted me into the air. It was no more painful than my current state of being. Despite objections from others in my crew, Penitent dutifully carried me the rest of the way across the Bird before gracefully hopping from the landing bay, still not making a sound upon landing. I got to see a bit of the chapel Okustin had referenced a few days ago, and indeed, it was very overgrown. But Penitent carried me even further, until we were fully outside, where she set me down upon a grass-covered shoreline, waves crashing against a rocky coast. ¡°Thank you, Penitent. This is what I¡¯ve needed. Thaddeus is up there somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Cal, I imagine he is,¡± she nodded softly, still standing over me. ¡°You wish to spend the night here, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°May I join you? We are too far from the others, and I will not have you be alone again,¡± she requested.


    ¡°Penitent, nothing would make me happier,¡± I replied, to which she laid down next to me. Quite a good distance further than Mirena would have, I imagine, but next to me all the same. And as befitting of a character totally opposite from Mirena¡¯s, Penitent said nothing further to me, save for wishing me a goodnight when night fell upon Hestia Majoris. I returned the gesture, and went to sleep.

 Chapter 15 - Resolve

    On the next day, the 45<sup>th</sup> day since my recovery began, I awoke to find Penitent no longer sleeping next to me. She was, however, still nearby, praying as she often had. The wounds I had incurred by getting in contact with Luther seemed to have subsided, and I was more able than I was the previous day. I forced myself to sit up, and then I wrestled myself to a standing position of my own, albeit stumbling a bit. Me bothering to try standing made Penitent rise to aid me, but she noticed I was able to balance myself. She congratulated me, which I thanked her for, and then I asked her to find Okustin for me. She nodded and set off to do so. I turned to the coast, and more importantly, toward Abseradon. It was many dozens, perhaps hundreds of miles away. Nothing between me and it but the vast, unending ocean of Hestia Majoris. Somewhere in the city, four heretics were still searching for my remains. They would soon learn that I was far from dead. ¡°And then I¡¯ll come for you,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°And I won¡¯t fail as you did.¡±


    ¡°Talking to yourself, sir?¡± Okustin asked from behind me.


    I grinned and gingerly turned to face him. ¡°Actually, no. Walk with me.¡±


    ¡°Are you up to that?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t baby me, Interrogator, I have no time for it. Walk,¡± I scolded him, and gestured to my side. He smiled and nodded, stepping ahead. I stumbled to his side. ¡°Have you made contact with the Navy?¡±


    ¡°I have, sir. I can get you into vox communication with Lord Captain Alejandro Batos, at your request,¡± Okustin reported. ¡°He commands the Navy fleet stationed in this system.¡±


    ¡°Excellent work, Hans,¡± I smiled. ¡°I think I will allow you to handle those communications, actually¡ªget you some practice for that. The Lord Captain may take offense to speaking with what he will perceive as one of my junior officers, but if he does, remind him that your words are my own, and that should set him in line,¡± I explained.


    ¡°And what will I be asking of the Lord Captain?¡± Okustin asked.


    ¡°You will ask for him to park a vessel in geostat above Abseradon. Have him run whatever military exercises he needs to to justify it to Governor Merek, doesn¡¯t matter to me. All that matters is that we get a ship up there,¡± I explained. ¡°Then I want him to give us the codes for the planetary broadcast system of that ship. I have a few words I¡¯d like to say to the city.¡±


    ¡°I bet you do,¡± Okustin chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ll make it happen, sir.¡±


    ¡°I know you will.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything else, sir?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been sparring with Mirena,¡± I started.


    He blinked twice, then asked, ¡°She told you?¡±


    ¡°She did not know I was conscious, but yes,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°If it¡¯s a problem it will end,¡± Okustin offered.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t. I wanted to thank you for it. For keeping you and her occupied, and from going mad. As I understand it, she¡¯s been kicking your ass,¡± I suggested, smirking.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she likes to think so,¡± he smiled.


    ¡°I would like to spar with you too sometime. Not today, I am not up for that today,¡± I laughed. ¡°But if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡ª¡±


    ¡°You want to get back in the groove. It¡¯d be my honor, sir. Just tell me when,¡± Okustin agreed. I stopped walking then, and took another look at the city to our left. ¡°We¡¯ll give them hell, sir,¡± Okustin assured me, stopping in his stroll as well and following my gaze.


    ¡°Yes, we will. Okustin, I do not know the time or place, but Abseradon is going to turn into a warzone. Our warzone. We will win that fight, I¡¯m sure of it. And when we do, if any of the heretics survive, I expect they will go into hiding. If that happens, I will be asking you to go offworld. To Quintus, to seek support from the others there. There¡¯s too much heat to leave now; I imagine our foes are checking every transport that leaves the city. You can¡¯t go now, and I wouldn¡¯t ask you to miss the fight. But when it¡¯s over¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to, sir.¡± And then he laughed, adding, ¡°This place reeks.¡±


    Day 45 became day 55. Okustin and I began sparing on the 46<sup>th</sup>, and though he went easy on me at first, after just a few days I was able to compete with him again. From there it became less a matter of building muscle and strengthening bone, and more about remembering and honing skills and techniques. Okustin was a capable fighter himself; really, the only difference between us was that he was not a psyker. He did not need to be to make a fine Inquisitor in the future, though.


    On the 55<sup>th</sup> day, I was satisfied with having sparred with him so, and left him to his duties. I was continuing to sleep outside, under the stars, and Penitent continued to sleep some distance away, to a loose interpretation of ¡®by my side.¡¯ In the mornings, I would find her praying, as ever. I mostly let her do so, until the day of the 56<sup>th</sup> morning. ¡°Penitent,¡± I called to her then. She looked up at me, eager to serve. ¡°You¡¯re up.¡±


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    ¡°Up in what way, Cal?¡± she asked, standing to her feet.


    I tossed both of my hands toward the Bird, and replied, ¡°In the way in which you are a master duelist.¡± My power sword and Nemesis Falchion flew to me, each one landing in one of my hands. I tossed her the power sword, and she caught it deftly. ¡°I know you¡¯re more partial to the Eviscerator, but I don¡¯t wish to practice with that yet.¡±


    ¡°Cal, it¡¯s a little impertinent for your bodyguard to duel you,¡± she suggested.


    ¡°Think of it as¡­building up my self-defense for the future. Which it is. Does that make it slightly more acceptable?¡± I asked. ¡°And don¡¯t turn the sword on, let¡¯s not go there just yet.¡±


    ¡°You think you¡¯re up to this?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m really getting annoyed by everyone asking that,¡± I sighed.


    She chuckled and shook her head before flourishing the power sword I had given her. ¡°I don¡¯t mean as a judgment of your strength, Cal. You¡¯ve never fought me before. And I have a notable size advantage on you.¡±


    ¡°All the better to face a new opponent. And you may find you need that size against me, Penitent,¡± I smiled. ¡°Any ground rules, or things you want me not to do?¡±


    ¡°No blood drawn from either blade. Don¡¯t mess with my head. Everything else is fine with me, Cal, but I still don¡¯t think you know what you¡¯re asking for,¡± she warned me.


    ¡°Assumptions assumptions. Come on, Sister, show me how unprepared I am,¡± I commanded her, levying my falchion toward her. She smiled, nodded, and then flourished her weapon again before darting for me. She was not as fast as the puppet-Astartes I had killed, but she was still a blur, a ribbon of red that wove through the air at a monstrous pace. I caught her blade against my own, but was forced back one step, then a second, her strength driving me away. But after the second step, I dug my feet in and held my ground, pressing back against the titan before me. ¡°Is that all?¡± I grunted. She smiled back, an excited, eager spirit inside her.


    No, she proved, that was far from all. She slammed into me, knocking me back further still, before gracefully darting to my side and striking again with monstrous force. Again, I blocked, but that was all I had time for. She possessed such a capacity for intensity that as the mere man that I was, I could not mount an attack of my own. Six times I blocked her strikes, then finally she darted away to try a different approach. That afforded me the time to try something new myself. I thrust my bladed arm forward, sending the weapon straight toward her, propelled by the lightning of my mind. She dove aside with her usual grace, dodging with ease, and made to strike my defenseless being from my right side. But my blade had not been carelessly tossed away, and instead hung in the air just past where she had been. I willed it back just in time to defend against her next strike, and from her surprise of my ability to do so, knock her into a backpedal and levy a strike of my own.


    She blocked that herself, of course, pressing back against my advance. Lightning thundered from between us, evaporating a nearby patch of grass. A wide grin had spread across her lips, a joy greater than any I had seen from her before. She may have even been laughing, though I would not have heard it over the crackling of my mind¡¯s presence on my falchion. So caught up in her elation, I was, that I afforded her a precious millisecond to back away, which she used to spin on one bare foot and kick my sword from my hands. Her feet then swapped roles, and she planted a foot into my chest before kicking me into the ground, smashing me onto my backside. With a foot still pressed against my torso, she lowered her sword to my neck, then nodded to me. ¡°Satisfied?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Not at all. Another round?¡± I asked, and willed my weapon back to me.


    ¡°If you have it in you,¡± she agreed, smiling.


    In further opposition to the peaceful nights I had spent with Mirena, Penitent and I spent our mornings thereafter dueling. The Honeblade Warhawks were so-named because they had been, for several millennia, masters behind the swords that every soldier carried, the -hawk part suggesting that they had the swiftness and lethality to put those swords to their best use. And as their Commissar, I, aside from having leadership and tactical prowess, was meant to be an example even to them. But even so, I was never a match for Penitent. In the days that followed, I never once found myself in a position of ¡®victory¡¯ against her. She thoroughly, undebatably bested me in every regard. I relished every loss.


    So, too, did my crew. Word spread fast that the Inquisitor and the Penitent were spending their mornings dueling, and it became a ritual unto itself to watch. Penitent may not have been a match for a true Astartes, necessarily, but I can say with the utmost confidence that I had never fought¡ªand hopefully will never fight¡ªan opponent greater than her. While I never raised my psyker abilities to invade her mind and assault her there, I did use everything else in my arsenal against her. I would shatter the ground on which we spent our nights and vaporize swaths of green from the coasts, and despite the mass destruction I, as a Gamma-grade psyker, could commit to, none of it mattered. Penitent was simply of another scale of capability altogether, and it was not close.


    We dueled and dueled until the dreaded 66<sup>th</sup> day, the day Zha had predicted the discovery of my survival would occur. It came and went without event. But on the 67<sup>th</sup>, we were called upon to wage our great and terrible holy war against the heretic, as soon as we awoke. Before I even got a chance to greet Penitent in the morning, Okustin was nearby, holding a pict-recorder in his hands. ¡°Sir, you need to see this. I think it¡¯s fair to say Zha was right, and that they know,¡± he told me, with no time for a good morning. I took the picter from him.


    ¡°Is this live?¡± I asked, taken away by the gall of what I was looking at.


    ¡°It is, sir,¡± Okustin nodded.


    ¡°Looks a bit like a trap, no?¡± I asked, a touch of eager anticipation on my voice. Okustin laughed and nodded. ¡°Want to help me spring it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be a pleasure, sir,¡± he nodded.


    ¡°Do we have our ship over the city?¡± Okustin nodded again. ¡°Good. Tell everyone to gear up, and tell Mirena to get the Bird ready. We¡¯ll have to have Luther on the bird¡ªmake sure Mirena recognizes that. We can¡¯t leave him here¡ªcan¡¯t spare the bodies to defend him, and we¡¯ll need Castecael for on-field medicae support,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± he nodded, and began heading back to the Bird.


    ¡°We¡¯re going back, Cal?¡± Penitent asked to confirm with me.


    ¡°We are. The heretic summons us. I have looked forward to this for weeks, now,¡± I said.


    ¡°As have I,¡± she nodded in agreement, placing a hand on my shoulders.


    I looked back at the picter in my hands, then threw it into the water out of disgust. On its screen was a live-recording of the central structure of Abseradon, upon which a great big ¡®I¡¯ with a skull in the center was carved out in raging purple flames¡ªa defiled symbol of the Inquisition. In one of the skull¡¯s eyes a corpse was hung, a Rosette nailed to his chest.


    It was Scayn.

 Chapter 16 - Insertion

    ¡°No explosives today, Mirena,¡± I told her, getting situated in the cockpit.


    ¡°Sir, it¡¯s almost all explosives,¡± she reminded me, grinning.


    That was true, as in their way, Bolters were explosive weapons. ¡°Fine, no missiles or cannon,¡± I clarified.


    ¡°Killjoy,¡± she chuckled. ¡°Ready to patch you in.¡±


    ¡°Count me down,¡± I told her. She fingered a three, then a two, then a one, and then nodded while pressing a button nearby. ¡°Abseradon. I am Inquisitor Blackgar of the Ordo Hereticus,¡± I said into a vox communicator hardwired into the cockpit. My voice roared out of the starship hanging over the city, slamming into Abseradon as Vostroya¡¯s music once had into me in his factory of nightmares. ¡°Your city harbors four heretics of gross violation of Imperium Order. They did all they could to take my life from me, promising it to me personally, to my face. They failed. These heretics stand in open defiance of Holy Terra, for all to see. I will end them, and anyone who makes the mistake of defending them. Governor Merek, I told you, before you betrayed me to them, that I would shred your city top to bottom to get to these heretics. That happens now. If you still think four men are mightier than the wrath of the Throne, if you still think you want to bow to them, be my guest. I will reduce you and your precious city to a crater in the ground. And to the PDF who take their orders from him, and the Arbites who take their orders from him, and to the gangs of the Underhive who would love to cause chaos in my wake, consider this: Be it four men, or a thousand, or ten billion that I need to kill today, I will. I strongly advise you not count yourself my enemy.


    ¡°Lastly, a message for each of the heretic scum: Vostroya, I admire your taste in music. You¡¯ll have to tell me what you think of mine. Ryke, I promised you damnation. I hope you are prepared for it. Heretek, your cruel experimentation ends today. I will crash it down upon you as Vostroya tried¡ªand failed¡ªto do to me. And a special message to the other Phaenonite formerly of Ordo Sicarius: For the defection of your assassins, and for their use against Inquisitor Thaddeus Scayn, I promise you a very final obliteration. I will not deny you the pain that you have wrought upon this city. Now I assume you all think I¡¯m giving you this message from the comfort of some safehouse, or maybe that starship, while my forces prepare for battle. That would be very authoritative, and it would give you time to surrender and repent, like a good, novice Inquisitor would do. But you and I both know you won¡¯t surrender, that you think you shouldn¡¯t be intimidated by me. So, if Floor 482 wants to turn around and wave goodbye, let¡¯s kick this day off early, shall we?¡± I told them, and turned off the vox whilst pointing ahead at a small portion of the thirty-mile-tall superstructure in Abseradon.


    ¡°Yeah, I got them,¡± Mirena replied, and opened fire with the four Heavy Twin-Bolters on the Bird, vaporizing a whole platoon of Vostroya¡¯s goons that had been waiting for our arrival. We strafed by without issue, and Mirena began pulling back on the Bird to turn for another pass. ¡°You really sure about no missiles?¡± she asked, frowning.


    ¡°If the PDF makes the mistake of siding with them, use everything you have. Until then, I want to keep the city in one piece,¡± I told her, and then reached out with my mind as we set upon another approach. ¡°Floor 749, left side, by the spire.¡±


    ¡°Little close to Merek,¡± she warned me.


    ¡°Frig him,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± she answered, and proceeded to shred another floor of mercenaries.


    ¡°Floors 648 and 533, then insertion. Kill anything that even waves a fist at you. I¡¯m heading to the deck. Keep in touch. If we don¡¯t respond on vox for some reason, just shout in from the battleship up above. And feel free to request fire support from it,¡± I told her, leaning on various handles throughout the cockpit to make my exit. My stroll was a little bumpy as we rocketed over Abseradon, slaughtering more and more legions of heretic troops.


    ¡°Turbulent winds we¡¯re having, eh boss?¡± Silas shouted to me as I joined him on deck. Everyone else was strapped in for the ride, but he was standing tall, his maglegs keeping him glued to the floor.


    ¡°Silas, that thing I told you about over the Monitron, that one¡¯s yours today!¡± I shouted back. ¡°Keep your head down!¡±


    ¡°Looking forward to breaking its skull! For Luther!¡± he replied. I had walked up to him and was holding on to his arm for balance, but we still had to shout. Mirena was heavily throttling our approaches, the super-dense atmosphere of Hestia Majoris kicking into the Bird and knocking it about as we sailed around at high speeds.


    ¡°For Thaddeus!¡± I agreed. ¡°Kill team, you all ready?¡± I shouted to the room.


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± came the uniform reply.


    ¡°Judging by the corners Law¡¯s taking, we have one more strafing run before insertion!¡± I told them. ¡°When we touch down and the bay opens, you have fifteen seconds! Law will provide covering fire, so just focus on infiltration and getting into position!¡±


    ¡°You heard the boss! The heretics came knocking, and with what do we answer?¡± Okustin asked the crew, also shouting.


    ¡°Only war!¡± everyone shouted back.


    ¡°Final strafing run complete, on approach for insertion. Good hunting out there,¡± Mirena called through the bay¡¯s vox unit.


    ¡°Trantos!¡± I shouted to her. She was in the back of the bay, far away from the exit. ¡°When we land, take the opportunity to get to the cockpit! I want you reading the scanners for us! Keep us posted on enemy movements! And as I told Law, don¡¯t be shy of voxxing through the battleship!¡±


    ¡°Understood, Blackgar, sir!¡± she shouted back, nodding, and gave me a thumb¡¯s up.


    ¡°Everyone else, I know not of our enemy¡¯s forces beyond what they¡¯ve already shown! For as bombastic as our introduction is, expect them to have a reply! The two traitor Inquisitors are mine¡ªI know I can best them and don¡¯t want to risk anyone on them! The Heretek and Vostroyan are anyone¡¯s game,¡± I explained. ¡°Don¡¯t engage something you can¡¯t handle! We have superior air support and comradery¡ªthey don¡¯t! So use those resources to their fullest! Remember, our target is Governor Merek¡ªwe secure his survival, or end it, his choice! Then we work our way down and flush the heretics out of here! And keep your heads down, the enemy has at least one high-range sniper! That¡¯s everything, the rest is your judgement!¡±


    I had not said anything that I did not already explain as we were initially leaving for this engagement. But it was all still worth reminding them now, as there would likely not be much opportunity for chitchat as soon as we exited the Bird. Sure, I could have messaged them such reminders at a faster rate if needed, but that was focus spent on communication that could have been used on the heretic. I figured it was worth shouting what I could while I could.


    And speaking of which, as soon as I finished espousing those reminders, the Bird touched down. We had scoped out an insertion point prior to leaving the temple outside the city: a spacious terrace with no structures, which was a perfect landing spot for an Astartes-size vessel, on Floor 732¡ªreasonably near to Merek¡¯s office. The moment the Bird touched down, we heard some light tapping and ringing of lasgun and autogun fire hitting the hull, but it was drowned out by the thunderous roar of the Bird¡¯s many Heavy Twin-Bolters. Everyone in the bay unstrapped from their seats as soon as the Bird had landed, and were now just waiting for the landing door to open, which it did after a few moments of Mirena¡¯s hellfire. The six of us leapt forth from the Bird before the bay door fully opened, jumping into a devastated hellscape, bodies of mercenaries and servitors cut to shreds across an equally-sundered terrace. As soon as we had cleared the bay door, Mirena began closing it, our group hurrying into the central structure of Abseradon unopposed for the time being.


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    Our squad was organized in two V-patterns. Silas stood to the front, as the most heavily armored of us all, with Czevia slightly behind and to his left, and Xavier slightly behind and to his right, closer to the outside edge of the structure. In case of structural collapse along the side of the building, Xavier¡¯s psyker abilities would give him the best chance of survival, were he to fall a floor or two down. I, meanwhile, directly flanked Silas, further back than Czevia or Xavier, with Okustin to my left and Penitent to my right, also slightly behind me. Altogether, this gave us a frontal firing line while maintaining maneuverability for all involved, and spaced us out enough to limit the possibility of collateral damage from explosives or debris.


    It bothered me that we had encountered as much resistance as we had, even if most of it was dealt with by the Bird. There should have been noble houses with their own security this high up, but they were nowhere to be found. Had the Heretek set his sights on Abseradon nobility for his experiments? It seemed like a natural, if of course awful, next step for him. And given the sheer number of soldiers Mirena had laid waste to thus far, I wondered if the security details of each house had been absorbed into Vostroya¡¯s ranks. Merek might offer some answers, if he was still alive and more cooperative.


    Eighteen floors between us and Merek¡¯s. Roughly three quarters of a mile, vertical. In performing thought-scans of the structure to provide targets for Mirena, I knew there were several soldiers on Merek¡¯s floor, as well as the floor just beneath it¡ªwhich I had Mirena hit¡ªbut I did not know their allegiance. I was sure I had also missed some between our position and Merek¡¯s office, and wanted neither to take an elevator into unknown territory nor allow forces so close to our flank. So that vertical distance was going to be taken manually, on foot.


    As we began to leave the suite of the house we had stormed into, I broadcast a message to our frontline. ¡°Fireteam, six targets, hallway on right, arrival in eight seconds,¡± I told them. Silas immediately issued some slight tactical commands over vox, moving Xavier and Czevia into position. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a firefight broke out, though it was short lived. The enemy group was slaughtered by our better equipped and better organized fireteam, and it seemed as though our foes did not expect us to be there. I suspected they were on patrol, and while generally moving carefully given that the building was under assault, they were not prepared for the firestorm we levied upon them. ¡°Second door on the left, then three hundred feet to main access shaft,¡± I told everyone. As we moved as one in the direction I had instructed, I also checked in with our air support over vox. ¡°Command to Bird, fireteam deployed, acknowledge?¡±


    ¡°Roger, Command, no disruption yet. And I have you all on pictcast with a clear visual, over,¡± Mirena voxxed back.


    ¡°Copy, fireteam moving to central. Outer contacts are no longer danger close. Engage at will, out,¡± I replied. The main access shaft we were heading to was a large, inclined spiral slope. It was itself about seventy feet in radius, and circled around the elevators and their support equipment in the center of the room. With this setup, the elevators could empty out to the spiral structure for less ¡®critical¡¯ Floors, or await direct access tunnels to more ¡®important¡¯ Floors such as the Governor¡¯s. But the spiral slope touched everything from Floors 1 to 800, the top of Abseradon. Technically, there was probably some access below Floor 1, too, but the Underhive was likely intentionally sectioned off from having such easy potential access to this structure that it would not have mattered. The spiral was just wide enough to support two lanes of vehicle alleys, so if we were going to encounter any armor in our way, this was the time and place for it.


    That, thankfully, would not happen, and all in all our journey to Floor 750¡ªMerek¡¯s¡ªwas met with less opposition than I anticipated. I got the sense that the heretics¡¯ numbers were dwindling quite fast, both by Mirena¡¯s hand and by their own loss of morale. I was not complaining. In any case, upon arriving and entering Merek¡¯s floor, we found the remains of a shootout between Vostroya¡¯s private army, a platoon of PDF forces, and the Arbites. I suppose that spoke enough about Merek¡¯s choice of allegiance. It had cost him, though¡ªonly a few PDF and Arbites members survived, the Proctor that had escorted me to my torment included.


    For the second time in our encounters, we wound up pointing guns at one another. But as before, shots were not immediately fired, and the Proctor¡ªwhose helmet was off as an aid was tending to a las wound on his head that had burnt an ear off¡ªordered his men to stand down. ¡°Comply with the Inquisitor, lads. We owe him that much,¡± the Proctor ordered.


    ¡°Merek?¡± I asked him as Silas¡¯s fireteam and Okustin moved to take the Arbites¡¯ weapons away from them.


    ¡°Sheltered, I can take you,¡± he offered.


    ¡°No need, I see him in your mind,¡± I replied. ¡°Silas, stay here. Everyone else,¡± I started, gesturing for everyone to follow. I led them a short distance away to a bunker of a secret compartment embedded in a wall, which I telekinetically wrenched open, revealing Merek cowering with his hands over his head. ¡°You¡¯ve seen better days,¡± I noted, nodding to him. He was a bit bruised, likely having been intimidated into further compliance by the heretics. Moreover, he looked physically weaker, stress and exhaustion taking their toll.


    ¡°As have you, Inquisitor,¡± he replied, and pointed to my augmetic arm. ¡°Are you going to kill me for that?¡±


    ¡°For that? No, that fate belongs to them,¡± I replied, referring to the heretics. ¡°I will kill you if you resist me or my Agents in the slightest. Understood?¡± He nodded eagerly. ¡°My Interrogator will get everything we need from you, but before that, where are they? They wanted me here, which means they¡¯re waiting for me somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Three of them are here, yes, or they were. I¡¯ve never seen the fourth, I¡¯ve only heard his voice,¡± Merek answered at once. ¡°Cryo Facility, Floor 492. I think that¡¯s where they want you.¡±


    ¡°Were you told to tell us that?¡± Okustin asked him, towering over the Governor. Merek eagerly shook his head, intimidated by my Interrogator.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t. But I wager they knew he would regardless,¡± I answered for Merek. ¡°Hans, Czevia, Xavier, stay here, reinforce the PDF, keep the Governor secure. If you need to evac, take him with you.¡±


    ¡°Happy hunting, Cal,¡± Okustin nodded to me, and I turned to leave, but Merek called to me.


    ¡°Inquisitor, wait!¡± I turned back, raising an eyebrow. ¡°They have something here, something human but¡­evil beyond approach.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen their experiments firsthand,¡± I replied.


    ¡°As have I, unfortunately. This isn¡¯t that. It¡¯s something else. Smaller, smaller than her,¡± he suggested, pointing to Penitent. ¡°And while it looks human in shape and size, I can¡¯t believe that it could be. It had a skull for a head, a turquoise suit with a great claw, and some strange, needle-like weapon,¡± Merek described.


    ¡°I have some idea what it is, then,¡± I nodded. ¡°I suggest you forget you ever saw it. Its existence is not for you to know. The same goes for their experiments. Sharing what you know would be another reason for me to kill you, Governor, of which I already do not need a second. Hans, he¡¯s yours. Get his entire life out of him.¡± For a second time, I turned to leave, taking Penitent with me but leaving everyone else in the bunker with Merek. ¡°Silas, time to go,¡± I called to him, and wanted to begin to leave to Floor 492 as Merek had suggested, but was hit with a wall of dread that caught me in my step. Dizzied by the suddenness of it, I stumbled forward a bit, and looked warily around the Governor¡¯s suite. Everything seemed to be in order. Everything was going to plan. So what was wrong?


    ¡°You felt that too, boss?¡± Xavier called to me, having also felt some semblance of something being off. I looked back to him to nod, and that was almost my downfall. But the dread intensified as I looked away from the windows of Merek¡¯s Floor, which served as a grim reminder of what had befallen Luther Vaigg; or, rather, a reminder of who had targeted him. In a heartbeat, still half-glancing back toward Xavier, I thrust a hand up to the windows, just in time to telekinetically ¡®catch¡¯ a bullet that screamed in from below, pinning it in midair less than a foot from my skull. It continued to spin incessantly while it hung suspended in my mind¡¯s grasp, and then a second one joined it, both of them pushing nearer to me. I do not think I could catch a third.


    ¡°Silas!¡± I shouted to him, but did not need to. After I caught the first round, he had already assessed the situation and knew what he needed to do. And without hesitation, he shot out the windows nearest to him and leapt forth into the open air, dozens of miles above the ground. If I ever saw him alive again, it would mean that he had killed Scayn¡¯s murderer¡ªthe Vindicare Assassin.

 Chapter 17 - Assassinorum

    Tempestus Scions, or Storm Troopers in the Low Gothic, are perhaps the single most deadly infantry ever produced within the Guard. They are the best trained, the best equipped, and the most vigorously tested of any other fighting force, specialists without compare. They are brilliant as they are potent, with a handful having become full-blown Inquisitors in their own right. (Though Silas has expressed a disinterest in the idea to me, over many cups of Gleece and amasec) The Inquisition also has its own detachments of Scions, often used for guarding key installations, and for offering further security to the Black Ships¡ªI had had a few encounters with them during the latter, for instance.


    Technically speaking, the Harakoni Warhawks, of which Luther Vaigg was a former member, are occasionally Tempestus Scions too, though the line is a little blurred there. The Harakoni serve a very specialized purpose in their mobility, and while they serve it well, they are not commonly deployed around armor, instead operating in quicker, lighter strike teams.


    The same cannot be said of the 54<sup>th</sup> Psian Jackals, of which Silas Hager was a veteran. The Jackals have often been called upon for handling invasions of Xenos filth, most notably the Eldar, who are known for their farseeing abilities. The Jackals have not seemed to care that their opponents have been capable of seeing the future, as they are inherently so overwhelmingly capable that farsight has not been able to help the Xenos save themselves. And even among the Jackals, Silas Hager is an exceptional specimen.


    There is a saying among the Chamber Militant Deathwatch Chapter of the Ordo Xenos that claims as follows: ¡°Amongst a hundred men, there may be none fit for the Adeptus Astartes. Amongst a hundred Space Marines, there may be one fit for the Deathwatch.¡± I personally believe this can be said, contextually, of Silas Hager. I have not known another soldier like him, and expect I never will.


    When Silas leapt from the main superstructure of Abseradon, he did so knowing three things: One, approximately where his target was, having followed the trajectory the Vindicare¡¯s bullets were fired from. Two, that he had borrowed Luther Vaigg¡¯s Grav-Chutes, but not his Jumpjets, meaning at best he could enjoy a slow descent, and not flight. Three, that the Vindicare had already shot Vaigg out of the air as it was. So as he glided down from Merek¡¯s office toward an adjacent spire that protruded from the main superstructure, he did so whilst weaving back and forth to make it harder for the Vindicare to track him.


    ¡°Bird, Scion is airborne, I say again, Scion is airborne! Give him a wide berth!¡± I warned Mirena, which came through over Silas¡¯s vox.


    ¡°What the frig is he doing?¡± Mirena shouted.


    ¡°Just getting some fresh air, Bird,¡± he replied, wind slamming through his vox. ¡°Bit noisy out here though.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me!¡± Mirena shot back. ¡°Your vox is filled with hot air, and I don¡¯t just mean your voice! Stay off until you land!¡±


    ¡°Bird, be advised, Command subgroup is flushing down from top,¡± I told Mirena. ¡°Requesting support as available, over.¡±


    ¡°Copy, Command, wilco, over and out,¡± she replied. At around that time, a laser-like shot narrowly roared past Silas, which he was happy about¡ªhe had aimed for the correct spire. After a few more seconds of sailing, Silas thrust his legs forward and engaged impact suppressors strapped to his boots, along with turning his maglegs back on. A moment later, he landed feet-first against the side of the spire, about half a mile down from where he had traced the Vindicare to, magnetically locked into place without falling miles more to the surface. As his muscles contracted for the movement of one of his legs, that magleg would disengage, allowing him to ascend the spire up its side.


    But he did not ascend without opposition. The Vindicare was not oblivious to Silas¡¯s survival, and had one final trick up his metaphorical sleeves not unlike Vostroya. After a few moments of ascension, demolition charges blitzed out in sequence far above Silas, and a large metal ring about a hundred feet tall and thirty feet wide began sliding down the Vindicare¡¯s spire. ¡°Seriously?¡± Silas grumbled as the mountain of metal screeched toward him, but he was undeterred, instead merely reaching for another weapon while holstering his Hellgun. He got his melta into position just in time to carve a path through the metal hulk that was falling toward him, keeping his pace even then while doing so. After a minute of falling, the metal ring struck the side of the main superstructure where the spire originated from, shaking everything in view, but still not managing to shake Silas from his pursuit.


    ¡°Bird, what was that?¡± I asked Mirena, which again came through over Silas¡¯s vox.


    ¡°Ask Scion,¡± she growled.


    ¡°I dropped something,¡± Silas replied. ¡°Nearing target. Requesting silence.¡±


    ¡°Acknowledge. All groups, defer to priority Scion,¡± I ordered, granting Silas the silent vox he had asked for. He then made the final ascent around the rounded bottom of the spire¡¯s peak, gingerly approaching the general vicinity he had gauged the Vindicare to be shooting from. He re-readied his lasgun, but also drew a Photon Flash Grenade from his waist, which, after arming, he tossed into the window from which he believed he had traced the Vindicare to.


    Silas did not wait for the Flash Grenade to detonate before finishing his ascent; instead, and with the sort of timing that could only have been garnered from decades of service, Silas paced himself to scale the lip of the window the moment after his grenade had filled the interior room with light and concussive force. Despite this perfect timing, the shadows of the room seemed to lash out at Silas¡¯s approach, and a near-imperceptible foot kicked Silas¡¯s Hellgun from his hands. In the same motion, a suppressed munition flung wide past Silas¡¯s head, missing him completely.


    As his Vindicare opponent righted himself to a defensive stance within the shadows, Silas instantaneously understood two things: One, the Flash Grenade had impaired the Vindicare¡¯s sensory equipment and ability to aim; Two, it had not impaired the Vindicare¡¯s sense of balance or combat readiness. But Silas assumed that the first point should have been enough to bring Scayn¡¯s assassin down, even if that advantage was likely wearing off to time. After all, Silas figured, a sniper¡ªeven a good one¡ªwas no specialist in hand-to-hand combat.


    This assumption nearly cost my Scion his life.


    When the Vindicare threw a haymaker toward Silas, my Scion thought to block it and move in for the kill himself. What he did not expect was the overwhelming force of the punch to swing him to the ground, tipping him over from head to toe on the axis of his blocking arms. Silas hit the ground with enough force to crack one of the eyepieces in his helmet, and instantly understood that there was vastly more power to his target than its slim build suggested.


    Silas rolled to his side as what was surely a decapitation-capable kick was thrown his way, and reached a hand out to the Vindicare¡¯s balancing ankle to try to trip his target to the ground as well. This attempt did not work either, and instead Silas pivoted around the Vindicare from his grip upon the Vindicare¡¯s leg. But that sufficed for Silas¡¯s purposes too, as he spun over his Hellgun once more. On instinct, he held the Hellgun close as the Vindicare descended upon him, the butt of his rifle next to his neck; this was all that saved him, temporarily, as the Vindicare lifted my Scion off the ground into a flawed chokehold. Silas had learned by now that the Vindicare was possessed of a strength that would probably break his weapon apart¡ªand with it, his neck¡ªafter only a few moments, so he wasted no time in retaliating, pulling the trigger of his rifle with its barrel between his legs. Lasfire roared out of his weapon in far greater proximity than Silas would have liked, but the grip on his neck loosened, and he was able to fall forward, weapon still in his hands.


    Silas did not bother with anything to do with grace. He tumbled out of the Vindicare¡¯s arms and onto the ground, spinning around in a hurry to shoot the shadows that had just held him. Two beams of red hatred scorched the Vindicare¡¯s torso, briefly pinning it to a statue of one of the Emperor¡¯s saints before the assassin slid into its own collapse, one of its legs fried from Silas¡¯s desperate attack in captivity. Silas paused a moment, then rose to his feet and took aim at the Vindicare¡¯s head. A similarly-desperate hand got in the way of his aim, but the hand did not serve to protect the Vindicare¡¯s face from the lasfire that erupted from the barrel of Silas¡¯s weapon, then. Silas panted for a few moments as the Vindicare slumped over, and then shot his foe another three times. The Vindicare twitched and spasmed on the first and second shots, but not the third.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Still panting, Silas reached for his vox communicator. ¡°Silence lifted. Target eliminated,¡± he reported in.


    ¡°Good work, Scion. I owe you a drink. Do not touch its weapons,¡± I replied.


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Gene-coded. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll explode in your hands, but they certainly won¡¯t function. Don¡¯t risk it.¡±


    ¡°Shame, I quite like the look of his rifle,¡± Silas sighed. ¡°What¡¯s my next op?¡±


    ¡°Hold your position. I don¡¯t want that equipment¡ªor its body¡ªlaying around for anyone to stumble upon. I¡¯ll have the Arbites seal the area when we¡¯re done and get the body back to Sicarius,¡± I explained. ¡°Thank you, Scion.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t anything, Command,¡± Silas said, and then fell to his knees¡ªthen his hands¡ªand fought to catch his breath.


    ***


    The trek to the Cryo facility was a long one, but mostly empty thanks to Mirena blasting apart what few platoons remained, and what few mercenaries we did encounter were easily dispatched. But I knew, from Merek¡¯s description, how the heretics were planning to kill me. What I did not know was how I was going to prevent it, as the mind of the creature Merek described would have been that of a lunatic, and not one I could easily enter. Likewise, the creature was not one I could outright kill myself without my psyker abilities. To their credit, it was a decent plan the heretics had.


    But I had Penitent, and the heretics could not have known of her talents. Even so, and while I was certain no ordinary human could match her, the monster I expected to face was far from ordinary. ¡°It¡¯s quite likely you and I are marching to our deaths,¡± I warned her.


    ¡°If that is true, then at least you and I have not erred from the Throne¡¯s path,¡± she replied. ¡°At least, not since I joined your services, that is.¡±


    ¡°Should we survive, Penitent, I will want to speak of that,¡± I said. ¡°But worry about that later. The thing Merek described is, if I am correct of its identity, as close to evil incarnate as can be found within the Imperium. And a traitorous one is something else altogether. I do not approve of its existence.¡±


    ¡°Then we shall remove it from existence,¡± Penitent declared confidently. ¡°Anything I should know?¡±


    ¡°If any of its armaments touch you, death is guaranteed. And if we happen to kill it, get away from its body. Unlike the thing Silas killed, this one will explode on death,¡± I warned her. ¡°Furthermore, though I will do so if our lives depend on it, I do not intend to wield my mind against this foe. I nearly exhausted myself protecting myself from that which Silas just killed, and want something left to handle the heretics. They are our targets today, not their minions.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± she nodded. We spoke no more of it on our journey, and the rest of our journey went unopposed. I was warning Penitent of an Eversor Assassin, even if not by name. Such was the only thing that would have fit Merek¡¯s description and been capable of the wanton carnage that had terrorized Scayn¡¯s habblock. Penitent and I should not have been much of a match for an ordinary Eversor, but I had hopes that the Eversor had seen too much action outside cryostasis and that its innards were beginning to melt. Eversor Assassins needed to be kept in cryostasis between operations, lest the volatile drugs they pump themselves full of kill them before they finish a mission.


    I do not know how or why these Assassins, if my suspicions were correct of them, had defected to the Phaenonites, but I was willing to bet that in their defection, they did not receive the proper care and treatment that the Assassinorum traditionally gave their agents. Our only hope, in descending toward the Cryo facility, was that the blessed Emperor had denied this defector that which would keep its bodily functions intact. Slowed reactions, sluggish (for an Eversor) movements, and dulled combat senses would be our only chance not only for survival, but for victory.


    Our journey lead us into a large, circular room, where large columns reached to the ceiling. They were not support columns, rather, they were reaching down into pools of coolant beneath the thin steel floor we entered onto. The coolant reflected through glass survey windows, creating a blue shimmering hue throughout the room. At the far end of this room, the Eversor, clad in a turquoise bodyglove and bonemeal-colored skull, stood waiting. Behind him stood a Mechanicus tech, hunched over and clad in grey robes with gold trim, unlike the red silk the Adeptus Mechanicus frequented. The Heretek also wore an inhuman, clearly-Xenos skull over his face, unlike the usual techmasks of the Mechanicus. ¡°Ah, Inquisitor Blackgar, we meet again,¡± the Heretek called to me. Its voice was that which I referred to as being the ¡®creature¡¯ during my interrogation from the Four. ¡°That¡¯s a crude augmetic you¡¯ve found, but at least it¡¯s better than the flesh you first presented with.¡±


    ¡°I have little to say to you, Heretek, save for asking where the others are,¡± I called to him, and then motioned for Penitent to break away from me, to try to get a flank on the Eversor which would undoubtedly be set loose upon us soon.


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re just through here,¡± the Heretek replied, gesturing to a gateway behind himself with one of the many Mechadendrites on his back. ¡°We intend on listening to your cries of agony on our way out while this fine specimen guts you. I am told its toxins are quite¡­biologically destructive.¡±


    ¡°Silence vox,¡± I voxxed in, again telling my group to keep to themselves. Penitent and I were going to need every conceivable advantage against this thing. ¡°Your appearance, Heretek¡ªyou are not an isolated agent, are you? You seem too¡­devoted to your heresy.¡±


    ¡°Your inquisitiveness and deductive skills astound, Blackgar. Of course, it¡¯s why your lively termination is so required. But yes, I came here to fulfill another¡¯s goal, and the Phaenonites and Vostroyan¡ªas you¡¯ve also correctly identified¡ªare the means of achieving that vision,¡± the Heretek answered.


    ¡°And who is that other?¡±


    ¡°I think not,¡± the Heretek shook his head, denying me that info. ¡°Goodbye, Inquisitor. If this specimen leaves anything of you remaining, take solace in knowing that I will salvage you to a higher calling,¡± he added, and then tapped the Eversor on the shoulder twice before turning away. I got a single snap shot off with my bolt-pistol, trying to blow out the Heretek¡¯s legs, but it was blocked by the power sword of the Eversor, who sprang into action at last.


    The Eversor was fast, but from firsthand experience, not quite as fast as Penitent, who herself was not nearly as fast as the puppet-Astartes. That was mildly encouraging, but the Eversor¡¯s mastery of lethality was not something one could afford complacency to face. In any event, the Eversor stomped toward me in a methodical but hastened pace while blasting away with its Executioner pistol. That it did not close the gap in an instant suggested, indeed, that damage had been done to its internal organs. I dove aside from its shots to take cover behind a coolant column, though I knew such a thing would not be sufficiently protective against a Bolt weapon for long. The Eversor buried two more explosive Bolts into my cover before I knew I needed to move again, but my cover had served its purpose in buying time for Penitent to close the distance to our foe. I heard the revving of her Eviscerator clash with the Eversor¡¯s power sword, which meant it was my time to spring back into action.


    I emerged from cover and took a few shots at the Eversor myself, but needed to take the time to aim in such a way as not to hit Penitent even if the Eversor dodged¡ªwhich he did, in part due to that hesitation of mine. But in dodging away from Penitent, he allowed me to fire off the remainder of my clip more liberally, pressuring the psychotic assassin into a retreat of its own. And when I finally did need to reload, Penitent was back upon him again. Our pressure and the Eversor¡¯s weakened state were keeping him from killing us, it seemed, but we were only accomplishing that much. Putting an end to the traitorous Eversor¡¯s existence in a manner timely enough to catch up to the fleeing heretics was another matter altogether, and one that I did not know how to approach.


    Penitent must have come to the same conclusion, as after pressuring the Eversor across a half-dozen attacks in the blink of an eye and drawing the assassin to a standstill, she called out to me. ¡°Go, Cal! You said yourself that everything other than the heretic is a distraction. Go and end them!¡± she shouted.


    ¡°That will not be allowed,¡± the Eversor growled, its voice distinctly human but somehow less emotional than even the Heretek¡¯s. He surrendered his footing to Penitent¡¯s strength as he reached one hand from his power sword for his pistol, intending to train it on me as I hastily made for the exit at Penitent¡¯s behest. She, however, did not allow him to get a shot on me, as ever shielding me to her fullest.


    ¡°Live, Penitent,¡± I messaged her as I left the cryo facility, the Eversor raving intelligibly at my escape whilst being fended off by my bodyguard. I did not stick around long enough to scan her mind for a reply, instead putting my faith in her and the Throne that she could secure my flank without losing her own life in the process, impossible a task though that seemed.

 Chapter 18 - Dust

    The cryo facility opened to a small temple to Holy Terra and the Throne some distance from where the Heretek had left the Eversor to deal with us. Many balconies lined the walls, and the entrance to this temple from the cryo facility took the form of a mezzanine below said-balconies, which circled around the room before leading to some stairs to the ¡®ground¡¯ floor of the temple. It was there that the three heretics had gathered to discuss their next steps, away from me and my Agents. ¡°Even if the Eversor succeeds in killing Blackgar, it is unlikely we will be able to easily acquire or dispatch Merek again. The loyalist Inquisitor¡¯s retinue has proven elusive in his absence already,¡± Gale Ryke lamented. ¡°And we have not heard back from the Vindicare since they voxxed in that they were being pursued. Our ability to exert pressure on Abseradon is waning, Espirov. Where are we with production?¡±


    ¡°Production has delayed for the last two days, Ryke, while the three of you egotistical flesh heaps worked on drawing Blackgar out of hiding,¡± the Heretek¡ªEspirov¡ªreplied. ¡°The resources and manpower to stage this lure has cost our mutual friend greatly, which in turn has cost me greatly. We are behind where we should be by now.¡±


    ¡°It had to be done,¡± the third heretic, whose name I did not then know, shrugged. ¡°Blackgar needed to be pulled from the shadows as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°I do not disagree with your assessment, Silver,¡± Espirov admitted. ¡°But we are without unlimited resources. With Blackgar dead, even if his retinue remains, I am confident production can resume at operative levels.¡±


    ¡°How? Merek knows too much. And as you pointed out, our mutual friend has lost a lot of manpower today and in his failed attempt to crush Blackgar to death. Merek will be able to offer guidance to our other sites, and we may not be able to defend them as we have,¡± Ryke said, still flustered.


    ¡°We do not have enough of the product to take Abseradon, but we do have enough to defend what exists,¡± Espirov suggested. ¡°The current results would suffice against our enemies¡¯ known forces, should they come to our facilities.¡±


    ¡°And what of the giant warship now hovering overhead, which is no doubt in contact with Blackgar¡¯s retinue?¡± the third heretic¡ª¡®Silver¡¯¡ªasked.


    ¡°When it comes to matters that concern the sky and above, our friend assures me there is little to worry about,¡± Espirov replied. ¡°The warship is of no consequence. It will not fire onto Abseradon without an Inquisitor¡¯s orders, and with Blackgar dead, that will not happen. Yes, it may make some things¡­more tedious. But tedium is a pestilence we are capable of suffering and surviving,¡± Espirov explained, and walked past the other two heretics toward the exit of the temple.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure of that?¡± Ryke asked as Espirov began to leave. But the Heretek turned around to face his ally in response.


    ¡°I am. As you should¡ª¡± Espirov began, but slowly tilted his head back to look up at the mezzanine that overlooked their trio.


    ¡°Please, continue,¡± I shrugged, gesturing to invite them to carry on their discussion.


    None of them said anything to reply to me. The two Phaenonites looked up at me in disdainful disgust, while Espirov¡¯s Xenos-skull stared at me, emotionless.


    ¡°Or don¡¯t,¡± I shrugged again, and strolled to my left toward the stairwell that led to their floor. As I did so, I again drew my Bolt Pistol and my power sword. Ryke and the other Phaenonite¡ªSilver, whose full name I had by then deduced from my own background knowledge of known and wanted Inquisition traitors: Foxon Silverman¡ªdrew power swords as well, while the Heretek¡ªEspirov¡ªbacked away.


    ¡°You two, you know we have a contingency, but it is only that,¡± Espirov warned his allies.


    ¡°Yes, yes, cogbrain, we know your contingency,¡± Silverman replied while he and Ryke shielded the Heretek from me as I finished my descent toward them. ¡°This is Inquisition business anyhow. Leave us.¡±


    ¡°You are without your lady friend, Blackgar,¡± Ryke noted.


    ¡°An astute observation,¡± I nodded. In the meantime, Espirov took his leave of the three Inquisitors in the room. Yes, I wanted him greatly at the time. But I could not merely ignore the other two heretics shielding his escape. ¡°I left her to dance with one of his,¡± I replied, nodding toward Silverman.


    ¡°Then you have left her to die. And when she does, you know he¡¯ll march right back to us and end you, if we haven¡¯t done so by then,¡± Silverman chided me.


    ¡°You lot continue to grossly underestimate me and mine,¡± I frowned, insulted.


    ¡°We know what she is. And we know what you are. We like our odds,¡± Ryke shrugged.


    ¡°Yeah, you seemed to like them enough when you dumped me in that flesh pit for your little test. How¡¯d that turn out?¡±


    ¡°Seems to have cost you an arm,¡± Ryke suggested.


    ¡°Fair enough. Say, out of curiosity,¡± I started, but had little interest in continuing the conversation, and instead shot at Silverman. The bolt caught him square in the gut, but where I expected it to blow him apart, it instead merely knocked him back a few steps. That served as a grim, if nondescript, reminder of what exactly I was up against. Phaenonites were not merely traitors to the Imperium, the Throne, and the Inquisition¡ªno, they were true heretics, embracing the realm of the arch-enemy upon their very forms and armaments, if not necessarily aligning with the arch-enemy in cause. So as Silverman stumbled back from my shot, his cloak waved aside, revealing mauled flesh stitched together with warpstuff and crude daemon metals. Silverman¡¯s very existence was one of heresy, and I expected no different from Ryke, who dashed for me after I shot Silverman away.


    I deflected one blow, then another, from Ryke before catching his blade against the ground with my own, whereupon I then launched a foot into his gut and kicked him away. Realizing that my power sword was the lesser of the weapons available to me at the time, I then tossed it at Ryke as he stumbled back, though he easily deflected it aside. In the meantime, Silverman had righted himself and tossed his own sword-wielding arm toward me. Though there was a great distance between us, his arm stretched unnaturally so, no doubt mechanized and warped by his knowledge of the occult, and he would have skewered me on his blade had I not drawn and engaged my Nemesis Falchion, which seemed to slow his actions down. Not significantly, mind you, but enough for me to survive and sidestep his elongated arm. In the process of that sidestepping, I took two shots at Ryke, one of which missed outright, but the other caught him in the shoulder. Likewise, he was not significantly deterred.


    Ryke was a bit more wounded, however, when I willed my mind to grip the power sword out of the air, Ryke having deflected it skyward after my initial toss. The weapon screamed down and clipped his left ear off before sinking into the ground at his feet. While Ryke recoiled in pain, I turned my attention to the other heretic, and with one of his arms still extended, I rushed for Silverman, shooting him in my advance. It continued to prove only as effective as to be a nuisance, but a nuisance was more than nothing. When I had emptied the clip of my Bolt Pistol, I tossed the emptied weapon at Ryke, if only to distract him further, while willing the power sword at his feet back to my grasp instead.


    At the moment that I reached Silverman, his arm had returned to a normal length, but it was of only moderate defense for him against my two swords. He proved, on his own, incapable of keeping up with the former Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> Honeblades, even despite the daemonic augmetic engines fused into his body. Though the Vindicare may have pulled the trigger, I knew Silverman was Ordo Sicarius, so I knew he was Scayn¡¯s killer in the end. And the fury I unleashed upon him, knowing that, was relentless to the extreme. I may not have been able to kill him outright by the time Ryke finally recomposed himself and aided his ally, but I had landed a dozen nicks and gashes upon the heretical traitor-Inquisitor by then all the same. And for a being such as he, mangled by the Warp, a cut from a Nemesis weapon surely stung indeed.


    When Ryke reached me, rather than slicing at me with his power sword he instead thrust his arms down upon me, not even with clenched fists. I inferred that there were mysteries beneath his robes I ought not let him reveal, so I briefly relented from Silverman to catch his arms against my own two blades at my back, and indeed, maletek razors sliced through his robes against my weapons, hissing against my armaments. Silverman mistook my turning my attention to Ryke as an opportunity to strike at me, which I replied to merely by thrusting my weapons forward again, pushing Ryke¡¯s bladed maletek arms off me in the process, and then slashed down upon Silverman¡¯s advance. In doing so, I cut two wide gashes into Silverman¡¯s upper torso, making him recoil away from me and let me better turn my attention to Ryke.


    As I dueled against Ryke, who was admittedly better suited for such a task than Silverman was, I willed a magazine of Bolt ammunition from my bandolier and launched it across the temple. It landed near my Bolt Pistol, which had itself scattered away from my earlier toss. I then willed a reload of the weapon from beyond my grasp, and telekinetically raised the weapon upon Silverman, who was still recovering from the gashes torn into his front. It turns out dumping a magazine of Bolt ammunition into something, even if augmented by the Warp, could prove at least moderately effective, and I seemed to be pushing Silverman onto his last legs whilst keeping up pace with Ryke in our duel.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Silverman made a sort of growling noise behind me after I had unloaded the full clip into him, which made me reason I should probably turn my attention back to him for a time. So I willed my Bolt Pistol to fly across the room and into Ryke¡¯s face, bashing him away from me, whilst turning around to face Silverman. As I did so, I sliced Drepane over the electrified edge of my power sword, letting the lightning catch upon the psychic energies of the Nemesis weapon. I then whipped it out away from me toward Silverman, and, fueled by my own psyker abilities, it exploded forth in a wall of electrified death that likely would have vaporized the heretic had it caught him squarely. It did, ultimately, obliterate the wall of the temple behind him, but he very literally leapt aside, his hands now as claws. He jumped from his former position to the banister of the mezzanine where I had stood where I greeted the heretics earlier, and then pounced again from there for me in a blur. But in as comparable a blur, I responded.


    Claws or hands or anything else, the pair of them fell to the ground long before Silverman did, his forearms being sliced cleanly off as soon as he reached me. And in the same momentum of the strike that did Silverman in, I sliced open Ryke¡¯s front with Drepane, opening his chest and face in the process, and claiming one of his eyes. The two of them hit the ground almost at the same time, both screaming in agony. I impaled Ryke with Drepane to keep him still while I turned my attention to Silverman, standing over Scayn¡¯s killer.


    +FOXON SILVERMAN.+ I roared at him, planting a foot on his shivering head as he bled out. I believe I spoke aloud, too, but my own inner monologue as well as the voice that appeared in Silverman¡¯s head were both deafening. +YOU ARE EXCOMMUNICATE TRAITORIS, AND I DECLARE YOU EXTREMIS DIABOLUS. BEFORE I SEND YOU TO YOUR DAMNATION, I NEED TO KNOW: WHO GAVE THE ORDER TO KILL THADDEUS SCAYN?+


    ¡°Who do you think, you frigging loyalist twat?¡± Silverman spat out, convulsing from my mental assault as much as from the blood loss induced from his missing arms. ¡°Scayn was far from the first, but he was just as insignificant as all the others.¡±


    With that, two skulls¡ªmine and that of Gale Ryke¡ªexploded in psychic agony. Foxon Silverman, however, just simply exploded, his body rupturing in every direction in a great splash of crimson as I crushed him to the bottom of a crater three feet in depth and thrice that across. I had never unleashed such raw fury from my mind before, and I pray to the Throne that I never find myself doing so again. It was physically painful for me to do so, and as revolting to the stomach then as it is now to think about, to say nothing of the red gore I had inadvertently drenched myself with from head to toe. After panting for a few moments to barely begin to collect my thoughts, I stumbled out of the crater I had made and returned to Ryke.


    ¡°Gale Ryke,¡± I started, still panting, and needed a moment to collect my breath.


    ¡°We could have done such wonders for mankind,¡± Ryke lamented, even then believing in his cause¡ªeven with a Nemesis weapon in his gut. ¡°The stagnant empire of yours could have ended and made way for progress.¡±


    ¡°You are Excommunicate Traitoris, and I declare you Extremis Diabolus,¡± I continued.


    ¡°Frig your declaration! What is it for, Callant, hm? What does mankind get out of my death? We could have given them so much more,¡± he protested.


    ¡°You could have given them wonders indeed,¡± I agreed. ¡°But instead you chose to give them death and pain. And death and pain are all you¡¯re owed in turn. But I will spare you the pain, heretic, if you comply and tell me what I need to know. If you resist, your body will break far more slowly than Silverman¡¯s did.¡±


    Ryke looked at me and hissed, both out of hatred and of agony, but all the same, asked, ¡°What could you possibly want to know, scum?¡±


    ¡°The Heretek¡ªEspirov¡ªfull name?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Holicar Espirov, Dark Mechanicum. Formerly a Genetor,¡± Ryke replied.


    ¡°Your mutual friend, the Vostroyan¡ªname?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know it. Espirov does, though. And before you ask, I don¡¯t know where the Vostroyan is located, either. We call him Rogue because¡­well, I shouldn¡¯t need to explain that one to you by this point,¡± Ryke elaborated. The walls of the temple began to crack around us. Ryke assumed it was from the damage of my electric attack against Silverman.


    ¡°How did your group come together? Espirov hinted at having a superior¡ªdid they arrange your meeting?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯d believe it, our meeting was one of chance,¡± Ryke answered with a shrug. ¡°Yes, Espirov has a superior. Who doesn¡¯t, eh? You do, I do, I guess Rogue doesn¡¯t I suppose,¡± he added, laughing. ¡°I do not know the name of Espirov¡¯s superior. But I do know they were very interested in the Astartes program, and provided the once-Genetor with what they needed to know to get him going on this operation. As for my superior¡ªI mean, I could give you a name, but it wouldn¡¯t do you any good. Inquisitorial cells are no different for you as they are for me. Compartmentalization has its uses.¡±


    ¡°Do you have operations beyond Hestia Majoris?¡±


    ¡°Me personally? No.¡±


    ¡°And your aligned cells?¡±


    Ryke smirked. ¡°Of course, Blackgar. I¡¯m offended by the stupidity of that question.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Compartmentalization.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    He shook his head, and around that time noticed that blood was beginning to drip out of the cracks in the walls of the temple. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m asking the questions, heretic. On Abseradon, how many factories does your group own? Not counting the one Vostroya brought down on me.¡±


    ¡°Eight more, that I know of.¡±


    ¡°The noble houses seemed oddly vacant on our arrival today. Do you happen to know anything about that?¡±


    ¡°We relocated them, yes. Espirov seemed eager to experiment on less flimsy flesh, as well as to salvage their augmetics,¡± Ryke confirmed.


    ¡°How long have you been conducting your operation in Abseradon?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°Ryke,¡± I pressed.


    ¡°A little over two decades now. Things started very subtle; we didn¡¯t even need Merek initially. But as successes mounted, our surety fueled our ambition. I suppose that¡¯s what caught your eye, in the end,¡± he replied. At that point, the cracks in the walls ruptured, and a torrent of blood began to pour out into the temple. ¡°Great Gods, what¡¯s happening?¡± Ryke exclaimed.


    ¡°You resisted my questioning.¡±


    ¡°No I didn¡¯t, I¡¯ve answered everything you¡¯ve¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. Your mind has rationalized the little bits you¡¯ve given me into the form of this discussion, but you have resisted me greatly. And so the cost on your being has been great in turn. You now have critical levels of internal hemorrhaging. I suppose your mind is rationalizing your suffering to the state of the world around us, as you once knew it,¡± I explained. ¡°I do not believe the four of you met by chance. Who instigated your meeting?¡±


    ¡°It was purely happenstance, Blackgar!¡± Ryke repeated. The ceiling of the temple collapsed around us, and blood began to rain down upon us both. ¡°Kill me already, please.¡±


    ¡°Who instigated your meeting?¡±


    ¡°No one,¡± he insisted. I felt it then. The presence of the Warp. Something behind me, a Third member of our discussion, birthed within the vast blood collapsing in upon the temple. I did not get the sense that they were the one I was asking about; rather, this Third was something of Ryke¡¯s own background, his own treacherous, heretical path. I dared not turn to face it myself; I had no desire to know the heresies Ryke knew. So, instead, still within his own head, I picked Ryke¡¯s feeble mental existence up and tossed him behind me to the something, and cut the psychic connection I had with the heretic immediately thereafter.


    It took me a few moments to come to and sit up, as I was not only physically exhausted, but psychically traumatized from the interrogation. What had emerged within Ryke¡¯s mind had clawed at my own as I left, but thankfully the material world around me was without its presence. Behind me was the bloody crater I had created. In front of me was a pile of dust in the shape of a man. ¡°Told you you¡¯d be dust,¡± I muttered to the particulate remains of Gale Ryke, and then gingerly stood to my feet and collected my things. My knees were weak, but I found myself capable of carrying myself and my belongings. I left the way I had entered, up the¡ªnow damaged¡ªmezzanine to return to Penitent, and to assist her with the Eversor if I could. I was in no physical or mental shape to pursue Espirov, and the Heretek likely had far too much of a lead on me anyways.


    Upon arriving back in the cryo chamber, I found the entire scene utterly devastated. Every coolant column had been blown asunder, in many places the floor had been torn open, and cool liquid was sloshed across the metal ground. The Eversor¡¯s legs were some distance away from the door I entered from. The top half of his body was nowhere to be found, though I surmised that a gaping, scorched hole in the ground near his legs was likely where it wound up before the volatile chemicals in his form ignited from the shock of his death.


    A few feet from the door stood a very bloodied Penitent, her Eviscerator planted in the ground with her hands upon it. ¡°Throne, Cal, are you alright?¡± she asked softly, voice quivering.


    ¡°Am I alright?¡± I asked, and then it dawned on me that I was still covered in Silverman. ¡°Oh. This isn¡¯t mine. Are you alright, Penitent?¡±


    ¡°I will be fine, Cal. Just need a rest,¡± she nodded gently. I approached her and found her shivering, and not merely from the coolant about her feet, though that likely did not help either. The Eversor¡¯s poisons and toxins would have killed her outright had she been injected with any of them, so there was the slight blessing that she had not suffered such a fate, but even so it was abundantly obvious that she had suffered several wounds all the same. The full extent of those wounds was less clear.


    I held a hand out to her.


    She shook her head. ¡°I do not think that is wise, Cal.¡±


    ¡°Take my hand, Penitent.¡±


    ¡°Your own stance does not look steady, Cal.¡±


    ¡°Take my hand.¡±


    ¡°Mine isn¡¯t either.¡±


    +Take my hand. That¡¯s an order.+ I commanded. With some reluctance, Penitent obeyed, and gingerly lifted a palm from the hilt of her Eviscerator. She slowly moved the wavering hand near to mine, but never quite reached it before collapsing forward upon me. I half expected as such, and caught her as best I could, but even so, my own weakness coupled with her size made me fall to my knees in turn. ¡°Silence lifted,¡± I grunted into my vox as I buckled under Penitent¡¯s weight. ¡°Need EVAC and medicae support, Floor 500.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re¡­on 492, Cal,¡± Penitent weakly reminded me.


    ¡°Wilco, Command, en route for EVAC,¡± Mirena replied over vox.


    ¡°No exfil point here, Sister,¡± I replied to Penitent.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this to yourself, Cal. Leave me,¡± she pleaded of me.


    +Shut up, Lucene.+ I replied, accidentally calling her by her first name, and forced myself to my feet, hoisting her full weight upon my shoulders. If not for the augmetic arm, I think I may have broken myself altogether in trying to lift her. I suppose that was a blessing of its own, in a way.

 Chapter 19 - Sin

    Penitent needed a lot of blood. I was happy to provide, as was Mirena. That aside, Castecael was confident Penitent would recover, as what skeletal injuries Penitent endured were a simple fix for our medicae. As Mirena did for me, I kept Penitent company by her medicae unit, albeit in far lesser proximity than Mirena had. The injuries our Sister Repentia had sustained saw her to unconsciousness for three days and nights, and I did not leave her side for a second, save for lavatorous needs. I ate with her, read to her¡ªI thought she might like to hear some Ecclesiastical works¡ªand slept in a chair next to her.


    And the irony of it all is that when she eventually awoke, I was not the first person she saw. Instead, she found Castecael checking up on her, routinely. After confirming that Penitent was healing well, Castecael left us to our reunion, and I rose to stand where the medicae had, by Penitent¡¯s side. I took Penitent by her arm, with my still-real hand, and grasped her firmly. She did the same, but otherwise we said nothing to each other for a time.


    Eventually, a tear slid out of one of Penitent¡¯s eyes. I shook my head at the sight of it and said, ¡°Don¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m very good at failing you, Cal,¡± she replied.


    ¡°You¡¯re very good at thinking you¡¯ve failed me,¡± I corrected her. ¡°It is by far your worst trait,¡± I added.


    ¡°It is wrong for me to rely on you to be saved,¡± she shook her head.


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± she chuckled. ¡°Cal, you are my ward. I am oathbound to protect you. That oath is not two-way.¡±


    ¡°You offer me no protection if you are dead, Penitent,¡± I told her. ¡°I will save you any time that I can. And this time, I could. And you have saved me countlessly more often than the reverse,¡± I reminded her. ¡°You can let yourself rely on me, Penitent, as I rely on you. I am not your better, nor your master. I am your friend.¡±


    Penitent closed her eyes, looked to the ceiling of the Bird, and heaved a deep breath in and out. ¡°Is that all you want to be?¡± she asked me then, eyes still closed.


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    She opened her eyes and looked back to me. ¡°I am not blind, Cal, not to what is plainly visible nor the subtleties of your actions. You treat us all well, but you treat me¡­as more. You want us all to stay with you, but you want me¡­don¡¯t you?¡±


    To that, I sighed, lowered my head before her, and released my grip of her arm. ¡°I¡­do not want to come between you and your oaths. Your devotion to the Throne is the second most beautiful part about you. I do not dare interfere with that.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Penitent replied, nodding, and sat up. ¡°That¡¯s what makes you good, Cal. You do not deny yourself the pleasantries of life, save for in service to Holy Terra. You are wise, and kind, and devoted in your own way,¡± she explained, and then planted her hands on either side of my head, holding my face before hers, before nodding forward and tapping our foreheads together. ¡°You are, on account of that, beautiful in turn. But you haven¡¯t answered my question.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Penitent, I want you,¡± I replied, sighing again. Her eyes, amber like the Harakoni sunset I viewed in Luther¡¯s mind, beamed on toward mine.


    ¡°And I want you,¡± she admitted. ¡°Yet we both know we cannot have each other. That fate is not for us,¡± she sighed as well. ¡°My repentance demands solitude. We cannot be.¡±


    ¡°Which does lead to the next point, of the nature of your repentance,¡± I started, and Penitent nodded but backed away, laying back down in her medicae unit.


    ¡°You believe I have overcome the measure of my sin,¡± she explained, shaking her head in disagreement. ¡°Foolishness, Cal, does not become you. The failures I have accrued in your service do not in any way atone for my¡ª¡±


    ¡°Damn it, Penitent!¡± I shouted, loud enough to garner a few eyes from others. That I punched an augmetic fist against her medicae unit probably did not help the former subtlety of our conversation either, but at least I did not damage the unit. ¡°I will not have it! Never have you failed me, Penitent, not once. I will not hear otherwise from you. The measure and devotion to your oaths I recognize and submit to, but I will not allow you to chastise yourself as having failed me. Never,¡± I insisted, wincing in disgust with the idea of her supposed failures.


    Penitent looked on at me with humiliated concern, perhaps intimidated by me to some extent. When she replied, she softly noted, ¡°I¡¯ve never angered you before.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve angered me every time you¡¯ve claimed to have failed me, Penitent,¡± I grumbled. ¡°I can only endure so much of that.¡±


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    She nodded, then sighed in and out once. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Cal.¡±


    ¡°Apology accepted. Don¡¯t do it again,¡± I asked of her.


    ¡°I make no guarantees,¡± she grinned. ¡°Cal, in the cryo room, you used my name. I¡¯ve asked you not to do that.¡±


    ¡°I know. And I¡¯m sorry for that. Stressful day, I wasn¡¯t thinking as well as I should have been,¡± I admitted. ¡°I¡¯ll try not to repeat that error.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Guilty pleasure¡ªI think I liked hearing you say my name,¡± she smiled. ¡°But an oath is an oath. It must be kept, even if it pains us to,¡± she added, glancing to me. I nodded. ¡°Cal, when I¡¯m on my feet again and able, would you be willing to continue dueling with me?¡±


    ¡°Enjoy kicking my ass, do you?¡± I asked, smiling, and garnered a laugh from her as well. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but I did not give her the chance. ¡°Yes. I would like that, very much so. I imagine our audience would like it too. Rest well, Penitent, you need it. I¡¯ll join you in that chair tonight,¡± I said, gesturing to the seat I had been spending my nights in next to her unit. ¡°For now, a bit of business,¡± I told her, and turned to leave, but she raced to sit upright, dizzying herself in the process, to grab my hand with one of her own. I looked to her, waiting for her to speak.


    She took a moment to get her bearings from having dizzied herself so. And then she took several moments more thinking through a loss for words. Eventually, however, after holding hands with me for perhaps a minute in full, she said, ¡°Cal, I want to fail you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of the statement, though I knew I did not then grasp the whole of it.


    ¡°I mean,¡± she started, and then sighed and hung her head down between us. ¡°I don¡¯t want to actually fail you, but¡­under my oaths, if I believe that I have atoned for my sin, I am to return to my sisterhood and seek their judgment. And if they agree, I may never return. I don¡¯t want to leave you,¡± she explained, and looked up at me again. ¡°I want to be with you, to serve the Throne by your side and nowhere else. So please, Cal, let me fail you.¡±


    I had sorely misjudged the scale of her devotion, and recognizing it, then, froze me. Where I owed her some measure of a response, I instead broke some measure of her oaths, and embraced her. She did not object, and held me likewise. It struck my mind to wonder whether any of my retinue witnessed us bend Penitent¡¯s oaths, but the thought was short-lived. I instead focused on the feeling of her heartbeat against mine; hers was powerful and pounding, but graceful all the same, not unlike its owner. Her chest rose and fell against mine as she breathed in and out, deep, not unlike her heart. I clung to the red leather on her back while sinking my head against the crimson cloth around her head, all the while still in awe of her.


    So in awe, in fact, that I undoubtedly made things awkward for her. ¡°A verbal response would be appreciated,¡± she told me at the tail end of our impromptu but lengthy hug. That prompted a laugh from me.


    I at last released her, and she¡ªreluctantly, I may like to think¡ªdid the same. ¡°Thank you for allowing me to understand, Penitent. If you wish to fail by my side, there is nowhere I would rather have you be,¡± I nodded to her. ¡°Thank you, Penitent, for the honesty and for revealing the extent of your devotion. As I said, it is the second most beautiful part about you.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s the first?¡± she smiled.


    ¡°All the rest,¡± I replied. ¡°Get some rest, my friend. I¡¯ll return tonight.¡±


    ¡°For more reading?¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°If you¡¯d like, yes. Or perhaps silent prayer.¡±


    ¡°Both sound exceptional. Go do what you need to, Cal,¡± she replied, and laid back down on her unit, closing her eyes and heaving out one final deep breath before entering a sort of trance, perhaps meditating. I left her to her devices.


    ***


    Penitent spent another two days in her medicae unit before receiving the go-ahead from Castecael to emerge and rise to her feet, reportedly in good health. Unlike me, she had the patience to await medicae approval of that sort of thing. Even despite said-approval and her natural strength, she still allowed herself to rely on me for aid in walking through the Bird in pursuit of the outside world, which I was happy to offer for her. And as we strolled through the Bird, a voice I had not heard in ages finally called to me.


    ¡°Boss,¡± Luther spoke up, voice hoarse, as he wrestled to move within his medicae unit. His eyes gradually fluttered open. ¡°I miss anything?¡±


    Before I could reply, Castecael was upon him, and shortly thereafter, Silas and the rest of his fireteam. Mirena and Okustin soon followed to swarm around him as well. Even as the group mounted about his medicae unit, he kept his eyes locked with mine. ¡°Not too much. Welcome back, Luther,¡± I messaged him, nodding. He smiled and nodded back before at last responding to the group around him.


    While I would have been happy to continue speaking with Luther then and there, I was still focused on bringing Penitent outside, as she had requested. But even so, I was assaulted by another member of my crew. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a welcome sight,¡± Zha spoke up behind me, smiling. But I got the sense she was smiling more because she had finished the task I had assigned her, as usual, and had something to report.


    ¡°Ms. Trantos?¡± I greeted her.


    ¡°Mr. Blackgar, sir, I have concluded with the evaluation of the information you provided me coupled with that derived from Mr. Okustin¡¯s interrogation of Mr. Merek. I believe I have some idea of plausible production sites as you¡¯ve outlined, totaling eight, as you described. Shall I give you that report now, verbally, or transcribe in for permanent record?¡± she asked me.


    ¡°Transcribe it please, if you would, thank you, Ms. Trantos,¡± I replied.


    ¡°My pleasure, Mr. Blackgar. Right away,¡± she nodded, and dutifully turned to leave, still smiling for having been given another (if comparatively minor) task to work on.


    ¡°She is very eager,¡± Penitent whispered to me as we resumed our exit from the Bird, chuckling to herself.


    ¡°Which is undoubtedly as much a boon for the Imperium as it is for me personally,¡± I replied, nodding in agreement. ¡°Do you wish to spend another night under the stars?¡±


    ¡°I would, I think, yes,¡± she nodded.

 Chapter 20 - Blindside

    I agreed with Zha¡¯s assessment of the likely locations of the remaining puppet-Astartes production facilities in Abseradon. However, knowing what I did¡ªthat the Heretek had suggested using the puppet-Astartes as guards¡ªI was hesitant to order an attack on any of them, especially on the off-chance that Zha may have gotten one of them wrong. An assault, waged too early, could be dearly costly and reveal our hand to Espirov and Vostroya all too soon, especially if we were wrong. So I did not immediately hand the information over the Merek and the PDF¡ªboth of whom were, for the time being, still complying with me. The victory in Abseradon and the killing of two of the Four proved heavily motivating for the battered Governor.


    That, and the warship still parked over his head probably helped keep him in line too. Lord Captain Batos did not seem to mind leaving it there, particularly as he no longer needed to justify its presence to Merek, who in turn justified its presence to the rest of the city in the form of a continual martial law over Abseradon. We were squeezing the heretics slowly, choking them logistically. I was content with that for a time, at least for as long as was required, on our part, to let some heat of our prior battle simmer down. Now that I had shown my hand in revealing the Bird¡¯s power to the heretics, I was less inclined to use it again¡ªthey would be more prepared for it a second time, so if and when I did use it, I had to be sure the aerial odds were in my favor.


    Two weeks passed from our assault on Abseradon. Only then, finally, did I feel confident enough to send Okustin off-world, as was my original plan. He and I knew his journey would take some time. The travel time alone, between Hestia Majoris and Quintus, would take five more weeks for him to get there and back. And while at the Quintus Conclave itself, I assumed he would need one-to-three weeks to convince any Inquisitors to assist my operation on Hestia Majoris, even with the promise of sharing the laurels for the overall scenario, which should have been an enticing offer to any Inquisitor.


    To be clear, I did not like the idea of providing the heretics more time to make more puppet-Astartes. But I made the judgment call that the patient option was safest, especially given the aforementioned logistical squeeze Merek, the PDF, and the Navy were enforcing. Yes, the heretics would without question make more puppets in that time. But I was confident that I would see aid from Quintus long before they possessed enough to take Abseradon by force, given the tone of the conversation I overheard between Espirov and the Phaenonites.


    So, at the end of that second week, I had Mirena bring Okustin to the Lord Captain to requisition the services of a vessel to take him to Quintus. Mirena set out and returned without issue, and I was put in contact with Lord Captain Batos and Okustin through the Bird¡¯s vox to confirm my Agent¡¯s agreed-upon departure¡ªhe would be on a Falchion-class Escort vessel, accompanied by six others of the sort. The Falchion was not a particularly powerful combat vessel, but it was fast, and the journey should have been relatively safe¡ªas safe as Warp travel can be, anyways¡ªso I was not particularly worried.


    Okustin¡¯s plotted route to Quintus was as follows:


    Hestia Majoris ¨¤ Oveaux ¨¤ Batgantis ¨¤ Galadon ¨¤ La Caeonin ¨¤ Quintus


    At each system of the route, the squadron would contact the local navy detachment, that we in Hestia Majoris could be appraised of their successful progress. I was satisfied with the route, and gave the go ahead, wishing Okustin good luck in his travels, assuring him that the Throne was watching his efforts. And that was that.


    In the days and weeks that followed, I spent a great deal of time working with Mirena and Silas to devise various hypothetical battle plans. I had Zha compile sketches and acquire blueprints of the theorized production facilities. We began drilling for their assaults, were it to come to it. I also requisitioned ammunition and medical resupplies from Abseradon through Merek, who¡ªagain¡ªremained cooperative. I would not say he was within my good graces, but I was tolerating his continued existence, which was all he could ask for.


    And in both the mornings and the evenings that followed, I dueled with Penitent. I remained squarely her inferior, and frankly do not believe I was showing signs of nearing her capabilities. She was encouraging of otherwise, though.


    Eventually, 812.M41 became 813.M41. Abseradon, even under martial law, did manage to produce some semblance of a parade for the end of the year. We did not attend, but did celebrate on our own. I made sure to toast Okustin, for being absent, and Scayn. Penitent toasted Malkyle, Scayn¡¯s fallen prot¨¦g¨¦. I appreciated that greatly, having once served the role myself.


    Last we had heard, the fleet was departing from Batgantis toward Galadon.


    ***


    Some weeks later, I found the time to take a short stroll from the temple we were still residing in. Penitent asked to join me, and though at first my inclination had been to walk alone, I felt the psychic nudging compulsion to accept her company. We made it some distance from the temple in relative, contemplative silence, exploring the vast, moss-green fields beyond Abseradon¡¯s walls. I was growing to wonder whether Hestia Majoris could have made for a paradise world, rather than a hive. Perhaps were our Imperium not so filled with heretics as to be demanding of the world¡¯s resources, there was such a hypothetical possibility.


    It was at that thought that a garbled transmission came in through my coat¡¯s vox. It did not seem to contain any spoken words, and was instead just a twitchy broadcast. Still, it was concerning that our vox had picked up on it; it should have been more secure. Penitent and I agreed it was notable enough to discuss with Silas and Mirena, who may perhaps have been testing some communication equipment. It was then, as we began to head back for the temple, that the vox picked up on something else. ¡°Sigma-Six, come in, Command,¡± Okustin said over the vox. His voice was also garbled and somewhat electronic, though in that moment, I attributed it to a degree of distance, as he could not have been too close.


    I was also, in the moment, awestruck. While theoretically possible, Okustin had made great time. His persuasive skills would take him far as an Inquisitor later in life, I thought to myself. ¡°Command receiving, welcome home, Interrogator. How was your flight?¡±


    There was a pause, then. And the pause in and of itself made my heart sink, as I knew then that something was wrong. But what followed made my stomach itself flip upside down. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, it took a while to get that out of him,¡± Vostroya chuckled over the vox. ¡°Knock knock, Pyrras.¡±


    +GO!+ I mentally ordered of Penitent, pointing for the temple, knowing she was faster than me. She sprinted off at once without a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°Is he alive?¡± I growled into the vox, fire on my lips, as my clenched fists drew blood from my palms and whitened my knuckles.


    ¡°Depends on your definition. You may wish to look up,¡± he told me. I did so, and before I could register anything being above me, a mortar shell exploded a few meters to my left, not far from where Penitent had been. Had I not told her to race for the temple, it was likely she would have been annihilated by it. As for me, I was launched aside, careening head over heel, before crash-landing against the ground. Soft as the mossy terrain was, I fell unconscious from the blast, but not before hearing the terrain behind me¡ªtoward the temple¡ªbe peppered by further shells.


    When I awoke, I did so to a collection of sounds I had never personally heard before, but had read about. A low droning hummed across the landscape, accompanied by the stomping of something large, as well as the lighter marching of multiple smaller somethings. And joining them all was the familiar, if amplified, voice of Espirov. ¡°Find the Inquisitor!¡± Espirov shouted, voice augmented and made more robotic, as well as echoing, likely emerging from any and every vox-speaker on his troops. ¡°His flesh is no longer his to sully! If he yet lives, the great work demands his immediate end!¡±


    I was, until then, laying with my face in the dirt¡ªor moss, as it was. I did then lift myself ever so slightly off the ground and turn my head forward, hoping to get some inkling as to what I was up against, and found that my odds on my own were not that great. In addition to approximately fifteen of the familiar mercenaries that Vostroya had been employing, and in addition to roughly ten heretek Skitarii in silver-and-grey robes like those of Espirov, two Mechanicum vehicles had been fielded. One Onager Dunecrawler, equipped with weaponry that appeared to be anti-air capable as well as anti-armor capable, as well as a Skorpius Disintegrator, missiles, energy cannon, and all. I did not doubt that this was the whole of Espirov¡¯s own forces, deployed at once, alongside Vostroya¡¯s mercenaries. Without my weapons, with just my mind, I could kill some of the infantry and maybe bring the Onager down, but I did not believe I could outright incapacitate the armor, nor did I believe I could survive at outright attack on my own.


    I estimated I had roughly twenty seconds before the infantry spotted me if I remained as I was. I could not know the sighting capabilities of the armor. I glanced around me for a moment, and spied a newly-made crater simmering a short distance to my right. I could make the sprint into the crater in a second, maybe two. Would the former Commissar of the 8<sup>th</sup> die with his back to the enemy? Even if not, then what? Be a sitting duck for the Skorpius? Its weapons would at least take a few moments more to align. I counted down the seconds, breathing deeply and slowly. Every breath was going to matter.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I ran.


    ¡°Blackgar!¡± Espirov roared, electronic voice screeching over the warzone as blue arc energy and red lasfire blazed around me. I dove into the crater, relatively unscathed, save for my pride. I reached out with my mind, and found a stabbing force. The heretek Skitarii were no doubt employing anti-psyker tech. I did not care, and ate the pain, forcing myself into what few feeble minds I could. And I broke them. I think I killed three or four from the crater, but that was far too few, and the process had woefully exhausted me in itself.


    And then the heavens thundered while the ground broke. I had been laying with my back against the edge of the crater that was nearest to my attackers, but in a millisecond was thrown to the opposite edge, face again burying into the ground as a colossal shockwave rocked the world I knew. Pain exploded in my face, and I believe my nose may have broken. But that was of little concern, and I instead turned to look upon the state of my foes. I was still alive, after all, so it had not been the Skorpius¡¯s main energy weapon that had fired.


    Red fire rose out of the Skorpius, jolts of arc lightning occasionally frying out from it, as the Bird screamed overhead. The Onager at once began to strafe after it, main weapons firing a hellstorm upon my crew. I believe Mirena had used the Thunderhawk Cannon, as nothing else would have created such monumentally-massive concussive force, nor would have been capable of blowing the Skorpius to bits in a single blow. One problem down, and another distracted as the Onager skirted away.


    ¡°His crew is here! Rogue, hit them again!¡± Espirov roared over the scene.


    Though the following callout was shouted, it appeared to me somewhat quiet based on the distance and the cacophony of warfare. ¡°Everyone brace!¡± Silas ordered. He sounded perhaps a thousand feet from my position. I thought to reach out to him with my mind, but did not want to distract him, especially as another bombardment was looming.


    Roughly ten seconds later, it arrived, and the world was pounded and shattered with shell after shell once more. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. More. Vostroya slammed enough artillery into the ground to level a (non-hive) city, and the sheer overwhelming aggressiveness of it all hit me: they were fighting against the clock to kill me. They knew such an overt display of their arsenal would reveal themselves to the PDF, and if we got support from them, it was over for the heretics¡¯ assault. But a desperate heretic was a much, much more dangerous one.


    When the shelling ended, there was a pause of a few seconds, and then the shooting resumed. Silas and his fireteam were still alive¡ªI could feel their minds advancing toward me. That none of them had been lost from the utter annihilation of our surroundings was miraculous.


    The Emperor protects.


    Unfortunately, I also knew that the entirety of Espirov¡¯s remaining forces had survived. The bombardment had been generously-spaced enough so as to not risk killing Espirov¡¯s assault squad. +Crater, near their lines!+ I messaged Silas, and implanted his mind with the image of my location. I stayed in his mind for his response: Hold position, Command. Fireteam forward. Sister on your left. Will send location to Bird. +Copy.+ In the meantime, I took the opportunity to survey the scene as he saw it. Vostroya had obliterated the fields I had just walked through. Now all that remained was grey stone, patches of flame, and large, jagged rocks blasted around to, conveniently, provide cover for my advancing allies.


    While I laid in the crater, gathering my breath, I decided to see if my vox had survived the two bombardments it had endured. ¡°All units, vox channel compromised! Keep to minimum!¡± I shouted into it, possibly to no one. ¡°Count twenty infantry and one mobile armor, acknowledge?¡±


    ¡°Acknowledge, Command,¡± Mirena replied. ¡°Your vox is damaged, but we can make you out well enough.¡±


    ¡°As can we,¡± Vostroya replied. ¡°Such fun hearing your formalities. Very militaristic. Brings me back to the glory days. Pyrras, shall I put some music on?¡±


    ¡°Frig you, Vostroya,¡± I seethed.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s a yes,¡± Vostroya teased. He did not fill our vox with music, but he did send recorded, tortured screams through it. Okustin¡¯s. Anything to rile me and my retinue, get us to do something idiotic in a warzone. We were too disciplined for that, but Throne, I have never wanted so greatly to see a heretic burn as I did in that moment.


    The screaming coming from my vox served two other purposes beyond angering us¡ªit also flooded our vox with unusable noise, stifling our potential communication. Furthermore, it gave away our positions, though the encroaching army had already spotted me dive into my current cratered residence. On that note, when one of Vostroya¡¯s mercenaries rounded the crest of my crater, I used what little mental strength I had remaining to pull him toward me, blunting the aim of his lasrifle. A shot went wide as he fell, and incinerated a patch of stone next to me, but I fell atop the mercenary when he landed and began to beat him with the one advantage I had: my augmetic arm. Eventually I felt his skull break under my metal fist, at which point I barely had the time to scoop up his lasrifle and frantically fire upon a Skitarii at the crater¡¯s ridge. I drove them away with my fire, but did not kill them, and then collapsed off the mercenary¡¯s body, out of breath.


    I trusted Silas and his fireteam. I trusted Penitent. I did not believe there was any non-Astartes skirmish force in the galaxy that could halt them. But I did not know if I could survive long enough, so close to the enemy, for my allies to arrive. The Skitarii¡¯s psychic dampeners had stifled my mind¡¯s strength, and the process of being tossed around by two explosions and then beating a man to death took much of my body¡¯s stamina, too. But the horrors of this warzone must have been nothing relative to what Okustin had endured, as his screams were without relent. I could not allow myself a moment¡¯s rest while he yet lived.


    I scanned the mercenary¡¯s body for anything that might help me last a little longer, or otherwise cause some damage, and plucked two krak grenades on his waist. They were for armor, not personnel, but I had little else to work with, and primed and tossed both, one after the other, in the general direction of my assailants. The ground thumped twice with each explosion, but if I killed anything, it was not the Skitarii that had neared me earlier and then approached for a second stab at me. With the final vestiges of mental fortitude I had left, I managed to force the heretek into a stumble, but not more than that. Having previously handled the grenades, I was without my borrowed lasgun at the ready. So as the heretek aimed their arc rifle at me, I felt only anger and regret that I would not survive to rescue Okustin.


    And then the heretek¡¯s head was mashed into their torso under the colossal weight of an Eviscerator, before the rest of their body was split in two afterward. Penitent tossed me my body armor, my Bolt Pistol, and my own Eviscerator while standing over me defensively, shielding me behind her towering form. The crimson death that was my savior did not even say a word to me, clearly as angry as I was with the situation at hand. I donned my armor as fast as I could, and sheathed my pistol on my waist while leveraging my Eviscerator to help me to my feet. ¡°Thank you, Penitent,¡± I wheezed, still largely out of breath.


    ¡°Thank me when the day is done,¡± she replied, not turning to face me. Our conversation, brief though it was, was barely audible above the ever-present screaming and gunfire. Speaking of which, the Onager came into view again, though it was backpedaling, still focused on our Bird, which subsequently strafed by the scene, Heavy Bolters shredding the terrain ahead of us. I suspect Mirena had gone for the infantry, prioritizing taking them out¡ªfor my safety¡ªwhile weaving between the fire of the Onager¡¯s anti-air cannons.


    Supporting that theory, the lasrifle, plasmarifle, and autogun fire at my back then turned to focus on the Onager, slowly depleting the walking hulk¡¯s shields. Eventually, just as the Onager began to turn upon Silas¡¯s fireteam, I heard Silas shout, ¡°Gradshi!¡± Lightning then struck across the scene, and raced through the Onager, making the great machine stumble and fall to its knees.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s your cue,¡± I told Penitent then, who deftly left me to ascend out of my crater and bring her Eviscerator to bear upon the fallen Onager. I rose up as well, covering her from the straggling infantry survivors with my Bolt Pistol, still balancing myself¡ªand partially shielding myself¡ªon my own Eviscerator. My armaments received aid in this regard by Silas, who at last reached me in a hurry before kneeling before my Eviscerator, better shielding me, while he gunned down the remaining infantry better than I was managing with my pistol. Penitent, meanwhile, carved straight through the Onager, killing both its crew members the instant she breached its hull.


    ¡°Command secure!¡± Silas roared into his vox, trying to out-shout Okustin¡¯s screaming. ¡°Need exfil, now!¡± He then turned to me, the red eyes of his skull-painted helmet beaming at me, and before so much as saying hello he jabbed me in the neck with a combat stim. ¡°We¡¯ll get you out of here, sir,¡± he assured me as Czevia and Xavier raced ahead of Silas, holding our ground. Luther was hovering overhead. ¡°You appear to have two head wounds and significant blood loss,¡± he told me. I only felt the likely-broken nose, and did not much know what the other wound could have been, but took his word for it. ¡°May I offer you any physical support?¡±


    ¡°You just want an excuse to embrace me, don¡¯t you, Silas?¡± I suggested, still wincing from the stim. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Thank you for the save.¡±


    Despite having turned down the offer for support, Silas threw himself under one of my arms to help me stand. ¡°In a heartbeat, sir. Please tell me there¡¯s a plan to gut these bastards and save Okustin.¡±


    ¡°Working on it,¡± I growled, then turned to my vox. ¡°Vostroya, I assume you want to bait us out somewhere. Name the place. Bring Okustin, alive, and I¡¯ll give you what slim mercy I still possess,¡± I told him, certain he could hear me over my vox better than anyone on the receiving end of the screaming could.


    At that, the screaming finally stopped, though only because Vostroya cut the recording. ¡°Why, dear Pyrras, you¡¯re already there. The lot of you are remarkably hard to kill, but I think you know that we have just the thing that can do you all in,¡± he replied as the Bird landed a short distance behind us.


    ¡°What does he mean, sir?¡± Silas asked me.


    ¡°Brace yourselves,¡± I warned our vox, and just in time, as a faint whistling that had been largely obscured by the landing sound of our Bird intensified before resulting in the screaming arrival of a drop pod perhaps fifty meters ahead of us. +DOWN,+ I roared into everyone¡¯s heads as the pod opened its arrival weaponry, spraying the surrounding area with Bolter munitions. The side of the Bird was peppered and dented by the onslaught, while Penitent, Luther, and Xavier hid behind the Onager¡¯s corpse for protection. Silas, Czevia, and I dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding being sliced in half. The hellstorm of Bolter fire lasted ten straight seconds, and when it finally ended, the drop pod at last opened up, revealing its contents to us. Espirov, the chief Heretek himself, in a full assortment of weaponry and armor befitting of his position, flanking behind a puppet-Astartes.


    Rather, Espirov was behind the heavily deranged and scarified body of Hans Okustin.

 Chapter 21 - Astartes

    I knew, in an instant, that I would need to give the order to fire on and kill one of our own. I knew that. The Schola Progenium does what it can to burn hesitation out of its Progena, and to eliminate the emotions that may birth that hesitation. But it is not an exact science, and even knowing what I had to do, knowing that the lives of my cadre were a currency to be spent in the elimination of heresy, giving the order was nothing short of difficult. The heretics banked on that, of course¡ªthat was the whole point.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Silas asked, staring bewildered at the corpse-thing with Okustin¡¯s face. I rose behind Silas, the combat stim he had given me providing me with a modicum of strength. I was going to need it.


    ¡°Exactly what you fear it is,¡± I replied, and raised my Bolt Pistol to Okustin, who was standing in place, awaiting orders from Espirov. Espirov, in turn, was surveying the scene and seemed to be waiting for us to make the first move. I did not blame him¡ªthe Astartes would have demanded the full extent of our attention, and when we had pledged ourselves to that engagement, Espirov would then have free reign to do as he pleased from the sidelines.


    ¡°Fear is not failure, for fear can be conquered,¡± Silas recited, evidently also recalling his time in the Progenium, and raised his rifle to Okustin as well. ¡°Is it him? Or a mockery?¡±


    ¡°I think it was him. Not anymore,¡± I answered. Okustin may not have possessed the full power armor of the real Astartes, and his body may have appeared less complete, even, than the puppet I had killed bare-handed, but he was no less an incomprehensible threat. Okustin was given rudimentary Carapace armor, not unlike that which the rest of us wore¡ªalbeit his was far larger in dimensions¡ªas well as a power sword. Technically we had a great advantage in terms of armaments, but that did not fill me with much confidence, and there were plenty of weapons on the ground for him to choose from as well. ¡°Espirov,¡± I called out, needing to shout, as there remained a great distance between us.


    ¡°Blackgar. What do you think?¡± the Heretek called back.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve never loathed a fiend quite as much as you. Is he alive?¡±


    ¡°No, sadly¡ªit would have been remarkable if he were though, hm? We have had a few successes with living specimens, but alas, your lowly ally could not survive our procedures,¡± Espirov answered.


    ¡°Well that makes it easier,¡± I muttered in a sigh. Then, louder, that Espirov could hear me, ¡°He died, then, in righteous service to the Immortal Emperor. For what loathsome ambition will you die today, heretic?¡± Espirov replied with what must have been laughter, though the voice modification on his body hid any hint of jovial response. I also believe Espirov, the true heretic that he was, laughed more at the mention of our Lord rather than the¡ªfrom his perspective¡ªabsurdity of his demise. ¡°I¡¯ve killed one of these before,¡± I whispered to Silas. ¡°I do not have the strength for it now, but it will prioritize me. Keep it off me. The heretic is all that matters,¡± I explained. ¡°Nod when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Silas nodded. I shot twice at Okustin, and the puppet dodged my shots with ease, diving aside, and in the process picked up a piece of scrap metal that had been blown off the Skorpius. Before its dive had finished, before my pistol¡¯s recoil had been fully accounted for, the puppet whipped the scrap metal for my neck. I barely had a moment to recognize the nature of the attack, and barely another moment to react¡ªconjuring a telekinetic upward push on the metal as it flew, making it barely sail over my barely-ducked head before embedding in the side of the Bird behind me. Praise the Emperor that Silas had had the wherewithal to give me the combat stim; what minor recoveries to my psychic abilities it provided were going to be essential.


    From there, everyone opened fire on Okustin. Unlike when Penitent and I had fought the Eversor, however, Okustin, now a puppet-Astartes, was able to weave between our attacks and dish out some of his own. Bits and pieces of metal once resting upon the ground were used to shred the cover my allies were using to defend themselves, the grotesquely enlarged cadaver of my disciple immediately evidencing our numbers advantage mattered not. I, meanwhile, turned my attention to Espirov as I had told Silas, though my journey to the Heretek was as perilous as anything else, Okustin obviously still being directed to focus on me. Regardless, my crew did exactly as I needed them to, and kept Okustin occupied to a manageable degree for me.


    Espirov possessed all manner of weaponized attachments and augmentations upon his body. Again, were it not for the stim, he likely would have gunned me down with ease long before I made it to him. But as it was, I was hyped up on adrenaline and fueled with fury induced by Okustin¡¯s end, the defilement of his corpse, and the many unforgiveable heresies I had witnessed on Hestia Majoris thus far. While ducking in and out of cover from rocky outcrop to jagged metal debris, I returned fire upon Espirov, whittling away at his own defenses, all while gradually closing in on his position. When denied an opportunity to advance upon the Heretek, I would instead take shots on Okustin or otherwise gather myself, reloading if needed.


    Eventually, finally, I reached him, Eviscerator in tow. I started a melee with him by first shoving him a bit away with a blast of psychic power, merely trying to knock him off balance¡ªperhaps I could knock him on his ass and kill him outright, or at the very least knock some of his Mechadendrites away. I achieved the latter, and put Espirov on the defensive. I did not imagine he could withstand me in a prolonged engagement¡ªhe neither had the experience nor the knowledge required to match a Honeblade in a duel. But that did not make him any less dangerous. Firearms, blades, and the stuff of heresy were all wielded by his Mechadendrites and thus able to be trained against me at odd angles. He himself was able to skirt around me unnaturally, elevating himself or dancing about me aided by his foul machinery. I blew my Eviscerator through any and every contraption I could, when given the chance, though I was ever eyeing his neck.


    Across the way, meanwhile, things were getting desperate. Mirena had taken off into flight again, if only to get the Bird¡ªand its non-combative crew¡ªout of harm¡¯s way. She was an excellent pilot, but hitting an agile Astartes¡ªeven a puppet of one¡ªon a strafing run was far too great a task to be expected or relied upon. Silas¡¯s fireteam and Penitent were being ruthlessly pressured, and Okustin seemed to retain some semblance of strategy within his cadaverous mind, gradually seeking to isolate someone for a quick kill. Thankfully, none had succumbed to such attempts, though that was likely due to the Emperor¡¯s divine protection more than anything. Eventually, Silas saw fit to force his way into the Onager, crawling into the hole Penitent had carved earlier to kill its crew.


    Silas trained its weapons¡ªthose that were still functional, at least¡ªon Okustin, but even the advanced armaments of the Mechanicus were unable to find meaningful effectiveness against the agility of an Astartes. They did force Okustin to retreat a bit, though. He wove through arcfire and cannon blasts, first ducking behind the drop pod he had arrived in, and then leaping over the still-burning remains of the Skorpius tank. Willingly jumping into its flames, Okustin borrowed Silas¡¯s strategy, and while shielded by the dilapidated hull of the Skorpius, turned its main Belleros Energy Cannon upon the Onager. Surely, it¡¯s not functional after a Thunderhawk hit, I thought to myself, seeing this happen behind my duel with Espirov. Silas did not take the same gamble, and dove out of the Onager.


    Praise the Holy Throne that he did, as the whole scene promptly lit up, light screaming out of the Skorpius¡¯s massive weapon in all directions. The blast hit the Onager while Silas was still airborne from his dive, and my Scion was thusly whisked away in midair by the insane concussive force of the Onager being all but atomized on the spot. I lost sight of him altogether. Both Espirov and I needed to pause to brace ourselves in our duel, the thunderous might of the attack dwarfing that of Vostroya¡¯s artillery barrage. In firing the Belleros, the Skorpius blew up a second time, unable to support the strain of its own attack in its damaged state. Okustin was launched from the tank¡¯s hull, himself now a smoldering husk of what he once was. But that husk was still able to rise to his feet where, standing two dozen meters behind Espirov, he looked straight toward me. And the intent was clear; unlike in Vostroya¡¯s factory of flesh, however, I had a Heretek in my way, keeping me from doing anything to address the scorched Astartes.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I ducked under a slash of one of Espirov¡¯s Mechadendrites to ram my shoulder into his face, pushing him away, again trying to knock him down. Again I failed, and his machinery helped him keep his footing, if again being knocked a bit off balance.


    Okustin charged for me.


    Lightning surged into the few remains of the Skorpius, propelling it horizontally toward Okustin. Okustin merely leapt over the bulky scrap metal, dodging Xavier¡¯s efforts completely, and landed in a combat roll, still in stride for me. Surrendering an inch of ground to Espirov would have been as fatal as the fate Okustin intended for me. The Skorpius sailed over the edge of the coast into the planet¡¯s vast ocean.


    Czevia, bless her, dove between Espirov and Okustin, opening fire upon her former friend. The bravery was a sight unto itself, that a Guardsman such as herself could willfully stand between an Astartes and its prey. Okustin clubbed a fist to her skull, sending her careening awkwardly into the waters after the Skorpius.


    Luther landed on Okustin¡¯s burnt shoulders, knees upon his torso and lasrifle in Okustin¡¯s left eye. A red light roared through Okustin¡¯s enflamed skull, into his face and out the back of his head. Still, the puppet had not died¡ªhe grabbed one of Luther¡¯s ankles and whipped him aside, sending the Harakoni tumbling away.


    But that, at last, proved to be enough of a distraction. In brutalizing two members of my cadre, Okustin had slowed enough for Penitent to catch up, and she flanked the monster from behind. One titanic swing of her Eviscerator lopped an arm and a leg from my former friend, bringing the puppet Astartes crashing onto its front at last. Penitent then buried her blade in the back of his spine, crushing it and pinning him to the ground. There, I believe, he died again.


    The carnage had been demoralizing to me, but it proved distracting to Espirov, who¡ªlikely seeing things from the back of his head¡ªcould not comprehend the demise of his puppet, and at last presented me with the slightest opportunity to end things. I took it, dropping my Eviscerator away and drawing my pistol, blowing out both of his knees before my blade even hit the ground. As he fell, then, I whipped an augmetic fist into the Xenos skull he wore over his face, breaking it and, hopefully, the face behind it. I then rammed a foot into his head once he had hit the ground, crushing it against the blackened stone beneath us, and shot off the Mechadendrites still attached to his body.


    ¡°Penitent! Gao!¡± I shouted, pointing to the waters to my side. Penitent understood and dove in at once, searching for our friend.


    ¡°You can¡¯t kill me, Blackgar,¡± Espirov sputtered out, wheezing and leaking oil and blood from beneath me.


    ¡°Oh, I think I very much can,¡± I assured him, seething.


    ¡°I have¡­a contingency¡­in place,¡± he warned me, now falling into a coughing fit.


    ¡°Yes, you mentioned as such before I showed the Phaenonites the same damnation that awaits you,¡± I replied. ¡°Try me.¡± Then, to my vox, I said, ¡°Land the Bird. All units need immediate medicae attention. Possible radiation sickness, among other injuries.¡± I did not doubt the Skorpius¡¯s cannon had poisoned us all to some degree. Castecael could handle it if so. I looked back to Espirov. ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°The Astartes,¡± he started, and then broke into a bout of intense wheezing. ¡°If I perish¡­any in the city¡­are unleashed. They will level¡­and kill¡­everything,¡± he explained.


    ¡°I see,¡± I nodded, and looked over toward Abseradon. Shortly after I did so, Penitent emerged from the waters, carrying Czevia Gao, and laid her down a short distance beyond Okustin. The Mordian Iron Guardsman was motionless and covered in blood, face smashed to a pulp. Penitent listened for a heartbeat, then gradually looked to me.


    She shook her head.


    I heard nothing then. I did not hear the burning carnage around us. I did not hear the Bird¡¯s return. I did not hear Espirov¡¯s weak, insufferable breathing.


    I heard only the laughter that was not there.


    I looked down to Espirov, and whatever he saw in my face made him attempt to crawl out from under me in futility. In a millisecond I was in his head. He had two kinds of psychic shields embedded in his mind. One kind was placed by some others¡ªhis superiors. I could not get through those, as they were likely installed by a psyker of greater power than myself. But the shields Espirov had built for himself in his own training and preparation I annihilated with greater ferocity than the Skorpius had the Onager. I saw the full extent of the operation on Hestia Majoris. I saw the names, the places, the means, all of it. I saw things I frankly would rather not have. I had entered the disgusting mind of the heretic.


    I saw everything that Holicar Espirov was, everything he had done to serve his masters.


    And I destroyed him.


    When I was myself again, I found myself standing in a sizzling stain of reddened scrap metal. This crimson stain extended for several meters toward my right, Espirov having both exploded and imploded. His resultant worthless remains were pasted across the battlefield in a perfectly straight line away from me. Good.


    I walked for and knelt down next to Okustin, wanting to lift his face up. His head came off from the slightest tug, his existence reduced to a smoldering crisp. ¡°Oh, Hans, I am so sorry. In this life, you would have been a master Inquisitor. In another, you would have been the very image of the ideal Astartes, not the cheap sham they made of you. I am so sorry, my friend. May the Emperor watch over you always,¡± I sighed, short on breath.


    I rose to approach Czevia, but Luther stumbled over to her first, and collapsed in a fit of anguish. I did not know it then, but Silas would soon tell me that the two had been involved. They had been more subtle and professional about it than Mirena and Castecael had, but it was love all the same.


    And that was the worst punch in the gut of all.


    ***


    We brought Czevia¡¯s remains aboard the Bird. She should be returned to Mordian. As for Okustin, we had to dispose of his body. What he had been turned into was a heresy unto itself, and not for public knowledge. The flames of the Skorpius had reduced the stability of his body enough that I felt confident the oceans of Hestia Majoris would destroy the rest of him.


    In the meantime, it became clear Espirov had not lied about his contingency. Even though we were many dozens, if not hundreds, of miles away from Abseradon, we could see the flames begin to rise. Our clock was now ticking; Vostroya would see the city and know that Espirov was dead, and that he was next. He would try to run soon. Luckily, I was still on the warpath, though my attention was, for a time, held elsewhere. I had Mirena hail Rear Admiral Batos¡¯s ship from the Bird, while also keeping the Bird airborne with no destination in particular. I wanted to give my crew time to recuperate and grieve before throwing them into the pursuit of Vostroya, but I also did not want to let the Bird remain on the ground for too long against a foe with such artillery power.


    ¡°Ah, Inquisitor, we finally get to talk. I am receiving reports of great upheaval in Abseradon. I assume you possess some insight into that?¡± Batos greeted me, skipping all manner of greetings. I got the sense he was in the process of scrambling his ships in case of an incoming naval assault to mirror the fighting on the ground.


    ¡°What was your last contact with my Interrogator¡¯s detachment?¡± I growled into the vox, ignoring everything he had just said.


    ¡°We last heard from that squadron as they were approaching the Galadon system, sir,¡± Batos reported. ¡°That was some time ago, yes. Warp travel being what it is, it has not seemed out of the ordinary. And I assure you, the pilots he was with are some of the very best¡ª¡±


    ¡°I deal not in ¡®seems¡¯ or vocal assurances, Rear Admiral. I trade in fact and blood. And the bloody fact of the matter is that my Interrogator is dead. If your ¡®very-best¡¯ pilots are alive, they are traitors to the Imperium and should be shot on sight,¡± I seethed. ¡°I will learn the means through which my Agent met his end. You will help me in that endeavor. If you do not, or if I find your name on that journey, Rear Admiral, from one military man to another, I will see you flayed alive and then shot. Do I make myself clear?¡±


    A not-unexpected pause followed, as Batos¡¯s world was forced into as great an upheaval as had befallen Abseradon. Still not as great a turn of events as that which had befallen our world. The most terrifying fate in the Imperium, other than the dereliction of one¡¯s duties or the failure of one¡¯s faith, is that of being lectured, interrogated, or otherwise castigated by an Inquisitor. Audibly shaken to his core, Batos hesitantly answered, ¡°Yes, sir, you do.¡±


    ¡°Good. To your initial question, yes, there is a matter of great import within Abseradon right now. I will have one of my Agents provide you with strike targets. I recommend lance strikes from orbit. Do not allow anything to leave the world, not even the Governor¡¯s ship, unless it has an Inquisitorial Rosette. Pray, Rear Admiral, your only hand in this situation has been and always will be in service to the Immortal Emperor, for He is watching you now, as I am,¡± I explained, and then cut the vox.


    ¡°Cal,¡± Mirena started, voice trembling, but I shook my head.


    ¡°Not a word,¡± I denied her, and rose to my feet from the copilot¡¯s chair of the cockpit. I turned to leave, but did not make it very far before collapsing to the metal deck at my feet.

 Chapter 22 - Vostroya

    I awoke on a familiar medicae unit. Again. Mirena was not atop me this time, though I did not doubt she helped me get there. Castecael, Penitent, and Silas surrounded me, Castecael actively working on hooking up medicae equipment to me. ¡°Welcome back, sir,¡± Silas greeted me with a solemn nod.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, you can stop with all of this fanfare,¡± I grumbled, waving them away, and tried to sit up. The three of them kept that from happening.


    ¡°You are not fine, sir,¡± Castecael shot back. ¡°You have endured tremendous trauma these past few weeks¡ªpsychological like the rest of us, now, but also a great measure of physical injury. You just went into shock. You must stop, Cal. Take a moment, recover. You never let yourself recover from your first bout of torment, instead engaging in vigorous combat training as soon as you could, and then pushing yourself into a warzone immediately thereafter.¡±


    ¡°Because it is required!¡± I shouted, garnering no looks of sympathy from those around me. I hissed in and out through clenched teeth for a few moments, then rammed a fist into a wall of the Bird. ¡°Time is the heretic¡¯s vehicle to freedom. I have delegated requisite time for operational security, but more than that cannot be given to the enemy. Silas, you under¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that, sir,¡± Silas recoiled, shaking his head. ¡°You, me, Penitent, yes¡ªwe three have had the same manner of training. The same teachings. But you do not get to use us to excuse your fervor for pushing yourself beyond your own limits. Limits which you have, and that you need to acknowledge lest you destroy yourself. You will not find an ally in me in this discussion, sir.¡±


    I seethed a bit more, then, staring at him. He stared back, for once without his helmet. Indeed, I would gain no ground with him here. I glanced to Penitent. ¡°Even you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡± she replied, shaking her head. ¡°Rest, Cal. You need rest.¡±


    ¡°To put it plainly, sir,¡± Castecael began. I looked back to her. ¡°If you continue like this, if you endure another event like this, you will die. The raw injuries you¡¯ve already sustained should have killed you three times over, but the ramifications that they have had on you have lasting effects. And those effects will be your end if you allow them to be.¡±


    ¡°My life, and my death, are of little consequence,¡± I replied. ¡°But the eradication of heresy¡ªthat matters greatly. The absence of my duty is unthinkable.¡±


    ¡°If that is the case, Cal, why have you not ordered the bombardment of this world to annihilation?¡± Penitent asked me. ¡°You could. You could have done it when we found Scayn had been killed. You said you were already considering it, then. The only thing that prevented you from giving that order, according to you, was that you believed your peers in the Inquisition would have had your head for it. So to some degree, even you recognize that your life matters.¡±


    I heard her words, and could not help but to sigh in response to them. She raised a good point. ¡°Your argumentative skills are yet another reason for the Imperium to praise the pursuit of ignorance, Penitent,¡± I grumbled, garnering a slight blush from her, but not more than that. ¡°I could have you all shot for disobeying a superior officer,¡± I warned them.


    ¡°An ordinary commissar could, yes,¡± Penitent nodded. ¡°But you can¡¯t. Don¡¯t make a threat unless you have the heart to see it through, Cal. Your heart is much too strong for such brutality¡ªwe know it, and you know it.¡±


    ¡°Again with the ability to argue well,¡± I sighed. ¡°How long?¡±


    ¡°How long what?¡± Silas asked.


    ¡°How long am I to ¡®rest¡¯ for?¡± I hissed.


    They looked to Castecael. ¡°A week?¡± she suggested with a shrug.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°A day, then. Can I get that much out of you, sir, please?¡± she insisted.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I shrugged, sighing again. ¡°Do as you must.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Castecael replied, and continued with attending to me.


    Silas nodded to me, then looked at Penitent. ¡°Keep him company. Keep him here. You¡¯re the only frigging person on this aircraft that can get him to listen to reason,¡± he told her.


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware,¡± she nodded, placing a hand atop the backside of my right. ¡°Shall I read to you this time?¡±


    ¡°I was not aware you had books of your own in your repentance,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Hm, indeed not. With our roles swapped, I suppose it¡¯d be recital, not reading,¡± she replied, admitting to having committed her scriptures to memory.


    I chuckled a bit, then nodded. ¡°Yes, Penitent, I think I would like that.¡±


    ***


    The day came and went without issue. Castecael saw to my recovery¡ªas well as that of everyone else¡ªwithout my interruption or difficulty. I prayed with Penitent as best I could, but my mind would not quiet. Rage swirled in a sea of despair under a rainstorm of hatred. Only occasionally would the sunlit peace of Penitent¡¯s presence eke out amidst the tumult. But to her credit, there were likely few others in the Imperium that could have made such progress with me.


    During my recovery, I did still get things done. I called Zha over to my medicae unit, and told her to hail Lord Captain Batos again to provide him with the strike targets. Most she already knew, having deduced the factory locations herself; two others, hidden away by Espirov (both physically speaking, and hidden within his mind) I had to help her deduce the exact coordinates for. Perhaps two hours after I gave Zha her orders, I heard the violent screeching of orbital strikes upon the planet, Batos obeying my Agent to the letter.


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    ¡°The precision. The accuracy. The loyalty. I give an order, I speak some words, and your world changes,¡± Vostroya¡¯s voice echoed in my head, referring to his puppet. I spent just under five minutes talking with Zha. The result was the explosive eradication of dozens of square kilometers of urban warfare. Yes, I thought to myself, I see the weakness of your heresy now.


    The Bird stayed airborne day and night. Mirena swapped out for Silas and Luther, who between them had some modicum of piloting experience that perhaps accounted for half of Mirena¡¯s talents, albeit only within an atmosphere; Mirena was, by trade, a voidspace fighter pilot. Regardless, we were able to stay off the ground in perpetuity without sacrificing crew sustainability, provided we had the fuel. In the morning of the following day, when Silas and Luther swapped control of the Bird back over to Mirena, and after I negotiated my freedom from Castecael and Penitent, I joined Mirena in the cockpit. My visit was unannounced, and she glanced to me for a moment before looking back to the skies ahead.


    After sitting with her for a few minutes, she finally broke the silence. ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°What happened to ¡®Cal?¡¯¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hard times harden the soul,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. We sat together in relative silence for a few moments more, only the sounds of the Bird¡¯s humming engines and the buffeting of winds against the hull disturbing the quiet. ¡°What do you think it¡¯s all for, Mirena?¡± I asked eventually.


    ¡°All of what, sir?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Everything. The heretics¡¯ goals. The Imperium¡¯s. And everyone in between,¡± I clarified.


    She shrugged and shook her head. ¡°I know not how to think on such a scale. And I do not wish to know the thoughts of our foes¡ªI do not envy you that power,¡± she replied.


    I mused¡ªaudibly¡ªon that response for a moment, then admitted, ¡°I envy you yours.¡± She grunted for me to explain. ¡°Your powers. Your gifts. You are quite the pilot. And up here, among the clouds, everything below seems so small. Everything above seems so vast, and it¡¯s yours to explore,¡± I explained. ¡°What are your goals in life, Mirena?¡±


    ¡°Need I have any?¡± she shrugged.


    ¡°I should hope so. I did not think I had a servitor on my staff.¡±


    She nodded, smiling, but paused to think on it for a moment. ¡°My goal is to live, I suppose. And to live well, among loyal friends. I feel I¡¯ve met that goal here, but here, we seem to keep finding people that want to threaten that goal. Maybe that¡¯s the picture of the whole universe, hm? Close allies fighting for their lives and the lives of their friends, against those who seek to spread solitude and sorrow. Perhaps that is what has set the stars ablaze.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°The Emperor gives us the gift of our lives. The adage says we should spend them wisely, but what if there¡¯s more to it than that?¡± she suggested. ¡°What if there¡¯s a price to pay for the good things in our lives? What if those unwilling to pay it are those you and I hunt?¡±


    I smiled and nodded again. ¡°Yes. I think that¡¯s it,¡± I agreed. ¡°One day you and I will pay that price as well. Others will come to collect for it. Emperor willing, we will have more than enough to give.¡± I rummaged through my jacket, then, and pulled out a tan parchment before handing it over to her.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°Flight path. Steer us onto it, please,¡± I told her. ¡°Keep the weapons ready. All of them.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Cal,¡± she nodded. ¡°It¡¯ll be a few hours¡ªfive maybe¡ªto reach that destination, even at full throttle.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s my name,¡± I smiled, as did she. ¡°And yes, I know. I¡¯ll be here for the ride,¡± I told her. ¡°We¡¯re finishing this today. Either we¡¯re paying our price, or the last of the heretics is. I know where my money is.¡±


    ¡°Mine too,¡± she agreed. ¡°Attention all crew, please strap in. We¡¯ll be accelerating to mission-pace,¡± she voxxed to our friends. This vox was private within the Bird; not even Okustin knew its workings, which meant Vostroya did not either. She then glanced to me. ¡°Prepare for combat?¡± she asked. I nodded. ¡°Combat units,¡± she voxxed, ¡°gear up for field operations.¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± I voxxed to them. ¡°Prepare for and bring everything. This all ends today.¡±


    Mirena and I flew together in silence, again, then. There was not a word between us for four hours. Occasionally I responded to some activity on my vox from my crew, but that was it. Despite the day of physical rest I had had in Castecael¡¯s medicae unit, I felt the first real, psychological rest in a good, long while riding at the helm of the Bird, feeling us race through the heavens of Hestia Majoris. ¡°Get me out of this shithole, Cal, and I¡¯ll fly you anywhere you want,¡± Mirena had said to me in her naval prison. I should really take her up on that offer more often.


    The silence was broken by a single word, and for a moment, I thought I had merely thought of it and the speaker¡¯s voice. ¡°Pyrras,¡± the word came in over my vox. Mirena glanced to me, though I had no immediate response. Then Vostroya tried again. ¡°Come in, Pyrras.¡±


    ¡°Can you feed my vox through the Bird?¡± I asked Mirena.


    ¡°Yes, I can. It¡¯ll be two way¡ªthey¡¯ll hear his broadcast and yours,¡± she explained.


    ¡°Good, do it,¡± I told her. She obliged, beginning to reconfigure the Bird¡¯s vox to that of my personal one. She gave me a thumb¡¯s up when she finished. ¡°Pyrras receiving Vostroya.¡±


    Vostroya paused in his reply, though I heard him breathe in and out a sigh that was half relief and half anxiety. ¡°You and your crew are some damnably tough bastards to kill, Pyrras,¡± Vostroya replied eventually.


    ¡°You would know,¡± I said flatly.


    ¡°Hm. Right. You know, for the better part of two centuries I¡¯ve been a Rogue Trader, but before that, I was a soldier, as I understand you were. A Lieutenant General, if you¡¯d believe it. You and I may be on separate paths now, but there once was a time where our journey was comparable indeed. One does not hold my current position among the stars for nothing, after all,¡± he explained. ¡°That our stars neighbor each other is, to me at least, an honor. I do not imagine you feel the same. Alas, our paths are not destined to cross. I imagine you¡¯ve told the Navy above to shoot down any fleeing craft from the surface world, eh? You don¡¯t need to answer that, I already know¡ªmoney has a way of buying information and exit strategies.¡±


    ¡°And where has yours come from, and where has it gone, I wonder,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°Oh, the captain of some frigate on one remote side of the world is where it¡¯s gone,¡± Vostroya laughed. ¡°You needn¡¯t worry about handing out punishment for that; I¡¯m quite sure the Lord Captain stationed here will mete that out well enough. As for my income, well, that¡¯s the thing about being a Trader. You don¡¯t much care for where the money arrives from, so long as it does.¡±


    ¡°And yours has ceased arriving,¡± I filled in.


    ¡°Shame, that,¡± Vostroya said, still chuckling. ¡°Cost of doing business: it ends. The other shame is that only one of us knows the other¡¯s name, and that we¡¯ll never meet. That was by design, of course, but I confess, Callant Blackgar, you have been a most worthy adversary. That the stars would go out before you and I ever cross paths face-to-face¡ªwithout a torture rack in the room, that is¡ªis most anti-climactic. When my name stops meaning anything, the stars will remember me, but you will never have known.¡±


    ¡°Vostroya,¡± I started, and then sighed and shook my head.


    ¡°Yes, Pyrras?¡±


    I paused, flustered, and shook my head again. ¡°You really could not be more wrong. You and I have never been comparable, not in our pasts and certainly not now. It¡¯s frankly impressive how much you think you know about the way of things, when you fail to grasp the most important notions of all.¡±


    ¡°Such as?¡±


    ¡°I am a Psyker. And I killed Holicar Espirov,¡± I reminded him, and paused a moment to let that sink in. ¡°Gale Ryke may have failed to tease the fine details of my operation from my mind, but do you believe I replicated that failure with Espirov? No, Antonius Sigird, Rogue Trader of the Scorix Litany, I know well enough about you. And our paths will be crossing far sooner than you would like. No, Sigird, the stars will not remember you. Vostroya itself will burn your name in loathsome effigy that you would call it home. And the Imperium will forget you, for I will leave nothing left worthy to speak of. I¡¯ll see you soon, heretic.¡±

 Chapter 23 - Retribution

    The Scorix Litany was a Hazeroth-class vessel; a Privateer, or in terms of combat capability, a Raider vessel. It was one of many vessels belonging to Antonius Sigird¡¯s fleet, but being as it was the smallest, it was the best for a covert operation on Hestia Majoris. Do keep in mind, the spacefaring ships of Rogue Traders were made for drydocks, not atmospheres, particularly those of such density as Hestia Majoris. A larger craft would not have sufficed for Sigird¡¯s purposes.


    So where exactly was the Scorix Litany? On the other side of the world from Abseradon itself, deep beneath the seas. Mechanicus augmentations as much allowed the vessel to survive in a submersible environment as they provided with a means of escape. By the time we arrived, grav-boosters retrofitted to its underside were lifting the moss- and seaweed-covered ship out of the water. ¡°Hardpoints,¡± I warned Mirena.


    ¡°I see them,¡± she nodded, and immediately launched all six of our Hellstrike Missiles to the¡ªconveniently¡ªsix weapon hardpoints that could have fired upon our Bird. Every missile met its target, vaporizing huge swaths of metal along the ship¡¯s hull. Small for a spacefaring vessel the Scorix Litany may have been, it was still a kilometer and a half in length, so the conflagration our missiles created did not serve to overwhelm Sigird¡¯s ship. That fell to our Bird¡¯s Heavy Bolter systems, which aimed at and shredded through some of the grav-boosters along the starboard edge of the vessel. On our first pass, that tipped the Scorix Litany a few degrees to its side, but did not sink it. Mirena tugged the Bird back for another pass, this time approaching from Sigird¡¯s stern.


    ¡°Hit his aft engines. Use the cannon,¡± I told her.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she agreed. A single shot thundered out of the Bird in a near-deafening blast, and punched straight into the back of the Scorix Litany. A shockwave raced over Sigird¡¯s ship, but nothing more followed, and the vessel continued to rise above the seas. So Mirena shot again, and this time when the cannon¡¯s payload struck, a massive fireball ruptured out of the Scorix Litany¡¯s starboard quarter. The ship immediately nosedived back into the seas, grav-boosters barely keeping it from sinking, but no longer able to propel it higher into the skies.


    ¡°Bring us in to land amidships. When we¡¯ve boarded, take off and continue strafing his ship, all weapons hot, save for the cannon. I may designate cannon targets as required,¡± I explained to her.


    ¡°Understood. Happy hunting, Cal,¡± she nodded, and I at last rose and left the cockpit, leaving the best pilot this side of Cadia behind to slice the Scorix Litany in half.


    When I arrived in the bay, I found my remaining crew fully armed and ready. They saluted me on arrival. I nodded to them, but said little, only instructing, ¡°If something moves on the ship and it isn¡¯t one of us, shoot it until it stops. I don¡¯t care if Governor Merek is on board, anyone that¡¯s not one of us dies on sight.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± Silas nodded to me, as usual covered head to toe in his heaviest armaments. I, too, willed my weapons to me. Power sword, Nemesis Falchion, Bolt Pistol, all sheathed along my waist. My Eviscerator was too unwieldy to be stored in such a fashion, so I would open our engagement wielding it. ¡°Any marching orders in particular?¡±


    ¡°Breach, clear, kill. That¡¯s it. You and your fireteam have complete autonomy. Penitent, you¡¯re with me. We¡¯re making sure the captain goes down with his ship,¡± I told her.


    ¡°With pleasure, Cal,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°Landing now! Doors opening in twenty-five seconds!¡± Mirena voxxed to us. ¡°You have ten to leave the bay! Go slaughter these bastards!¡±


    ¡°I intend to,¡± Luther muttered to himself with a seething sigh. I nodded in assent. Silence¡ªother than the warzone¡ªagain filled the bay. I heard Penitent whispering a prayer to her Eviscerator by my side, but otherwise everyone waited with eager anticipation for the bay¡¯s door to open.


    That happened soon enough, and our fighting force¡ªonce seven members, now five¡ªjumped out of the Bird as one. We did not face immediate opposition, which did not surprise me. Most of Sigird¡¯s mercenaries had likely been annihilated on other days. In fact, it was entirely possible that the last of his forces died with the Skitarii and Espirov. But a vessel this large undoubtedly had crew and servitors that could stand in our way and needed to be expunged for aiding the heresy. And at this point, my life be damned, I was ready to demand a viral strike on Hestia Majoris if needed to kill the one remaining man behind the world¡¯s horrors.


    Until then, I let Silas and his fireteam loose to purge the Scorix Litany of any and all life they could find. Behind us, Mirena took off for further strafing runs as great waves crashed against the slowly-sinking ship. ¡°Where are we headed?¡± Penitent asked me after a few moments of standing idle.


    ¡°Nowhere. If he¡¯s still alive, he¡¯ll come topside to avoid drowning, and we¡¯ll kill him here,¡± I replied. I then looked at her and shrugged. ¡°I suppose we could seek higher ground too, so you don¡¯t get your feet wet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly a concern of mine, Cal,¡± she shook her head.


    ¡°Regardless,¡± I shrugged again, and led her on, further up the sinking, flaming ship. Call the need to go higher a hunch, if a very informed one. Again, I knew to expect Sigird to get as far away from the water as possible. One may question whether I was sending my Silas and his fireteam to drown, and one would be ignorantly underplaying the abilities of my retinue. If there was ever a risk of drowning for them, they would be able to handle themselves. And moreover, the ship was not sinking that quickly. Only a few of the grav-boosters had been blown out, so of the kilometer-long vessel, only an inch of it was sinking minute to minute. It would be hours before the vessel was truly uninhabitable.


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    After finding purchase on higher ground, I heard some rumbling coming from a nearby operations tower. Penitent and I turned to face it while I drew my Bolt Pistol, and when the door burst open and a trio of ordinary humans ran forth, I gunned them down without hesitation. They were crew members, not military forces; they did not possess the muscle mass of combat operatives. It did not matter to me¡ªthey were Sigird¡¯s, after all. I had little time to consider their deaths, however, before a second, deeper stomping emanated out of the same tower. ¡°Ready yourself,¡± I told Penitent, which felt redundant, as though to imply she were ever not ready.


    Metal scraped against metal, and eventually a titanic figure emerged from the operations tower. Most doors and walkways in the Imperium were built to a scale to allow for the giant Astartes to navigate them; even so, this figure, clad in red ¡®Prensio¡¯-class Lifter Armor, covered in Vostroyan Firstborn insignias, was of another size entirely. The armor was made for tearing into armored bulkheads for salvaging purposes, which allowed Antonius Sigird to rip his own ship apart, stomping out toward us. ¡°Sigird,¡± I growled.


    ¡°Blackgar,¡± he seethed in reply, towering over both me and Penitent.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­larger than I expected. And not merely from the armor,¡± I offered, Bolt Pistol pointed at his head. He was bald, and not unlike Governor Merek, had cybernetics attached to the back of his skull.


    ¡°Go ahead, make your inquisitive deduction,¡± he sneered.


    ¡°Espirov mentioned having success with living specimens, in reference to Okustin not being one. You are, though, aren¡¯t you?¡± I surmised.


    ¡°Alas, an imperfect one, but yes,¡± he confirmed. ¡°I was not provided with the more invasive organs, as the others could not risk my demise. But those that I have, I can use to grind you and that lovely Sister of yours to a paste. I¡¯m afraid, my dear, I¡¯ve never gotten your name. It would be a shame to kill you without knowing it.¡±


    ¡°Not in your time, cur,¡± Penitent grumbled, holding her Eviscerator between herself and him. Sigird mockingly chided her, shaking his head, and opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him with his sentencing.


    ¡°Antonius Sigird, you are Extremis Diabolus, and I hereby revoke your Warrant of Trade and sentence you to death,¡± I called to him. ¡°Kneel before me and receive it quickly. Or make my day, for once, and continue to resist the Holy Throne and the Inquisition.¡±


    ¡°Dear Pyrras, I would be happy to,¡± he laughed, and then stomped toward us. Weighed down by his Lifter Suit, he was slower than the other Astartes¡ªslower than Penitent, even. But the suit made him far, far larger, and more durable. Direct hits from my Bolt Pistol did little. The average Astartes was about eight feet in height, and the puppets we had seen thus far were about Penitent¡¯s 7¡¯4¡±. But in his massive Lifter Suit, Sigird towered over us at nearly ten feet of height.


    The first thing he tried was crushing me beneath the two great, metal claws of the suit. I dove away, knowing no mortal man could block or withstand such an attack, and dodged just in time to avoid the same fate as the then-dented hull. When I landed on my feet, I carved a scratch¡ªnothing more¡ªinto the waist of Sigird¡¯s suit with my Eviscerator while he smacked aside Penitent¡¯s weapon, his strength sending her careening by proxy. As his focus returned to me, I wove away from the red goliath before he even levied an attack my way. Sigird hammered toward me, pinching his great metal claws in eager anticipation of crushing my head within them.


    Having turned his back upon her, Sigird was assaulted by Penitent from behind, who all but tackled him with her Eviscerator. The great chainsword screeched into Sigird¡¯s metal backside, though he merely stopped in his tracks to jam his body backward toward her, knocking her to the ground. He turned to crush her to a paste, but found himself forced into a backpedal as a wave of psychic energy and lightning struck him on his side. I persistently pressed my mind against the great metal titan, and even willed him to his knees, but Sigird was a puppet-Astartes now. Even as the metal of his armor bent and broke, he was merely trapped within it against my abilities, and was not himself too vulnerable to my mind. As evidence of this, when Penitent rose her Eviscerator overhead to decapitate Sigird, he still had the means to raise a hand to catch both of her arms, and crushed her elbows together before tossing her aside.


    Penitent flew through the air, Eviscerator dropped to the ground, and hit the hard metal deck of the Scorix Litany. She did not get up. And even though my resulting mental onslaught began to reduce parts of Sigird¡¯s armor to molten metal, he remained undeterred, and managed to right himself to his feet and return to hunting me down. ¡°Is that all, Pyrras?¡± he shouted as I dodged away from him. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding; have you split your mind by merely denting my armor? I expected more of the great Inquisitor!¡± he roared, gradually catching up to me. He was right, I had again overused my mind, as I had against each of the heretics thus far, and was now bleeding from my nose and ears. ¡°No more gnats to get in the way, just us two neighbors to sort things out! So go ahead, carry out your sentencing, would you?¡±


    A great wave hit the Scorix Litany, then, and I stumbled to the ground as a result of it. I thought I got to my feet quick enough, but I was wrong, and found a metal, two-pronged claw wrapped around my ankle. Sigird lifted me into the air and whipped me to the metal ground, making lights briefly shoot through my eyes. The daze passed in a moment, just in time to see him stomping a great, two-toed metal foot upon me. I met it with my augmetic arm, trying to keep him at bay, but that was for naught. He crushed my arm into itself, compacting it like a piece of trash, and then briefly lifted his foot away to kick the augmetic aside. He then planted his foot over my entire body, pinning me beneath him, while in the meantime one of his claws chopped the remains of my augmetic arm off.


    ¡°Well?¡± he shouted at me. ¡°Where¡¯s my death, hm?¡±


    ¡°On its way,¡± I grunted, spitting blood onto his metal toes.


    ¡°I think not,¡± he laughed. ¡°Does the great Commissar and Inquisitor from Pyrras-3 have any last words?¡± he asked, levying one of his claws over my head.


    ¡°Law,¡± I started, but he interrupted me.


    ¡°Law? What is the law going to do to stop me now, you kheking insufferable chevek?¡± he shouted, falling back on his native tongue again.


    ¡°Hit him,¡± I groaned.


    ¡°With pleasure,¡± Mirena replied over vox, and in an instant, one of Sigird¡¯s arms vanished from his body. Further down the spine of his ship, a great explosion rocketed out of the hull, and a pale shockwave raced toward us. The collateral force of having been stripped of an appendage by a Thunderhawk cannon made Sigird recoil off and away from me, to then be pushed toward me by the shockwave. Then Mirena hit him for real, smacking his upper body with the underside of the Bird as she came in for a screeching, impromptu landing. Sigird was launched dozens of meters away from me, violently tumbling over the main deck of his own ship.

 Chapter 24 - Penance

    ¡°All combat units to main deck,¡± I croaked into my vox, wheezing in the ability to breathe again, now that I no longer had a giant metal foot on my chest. I gingerly rose to my feet, and debated pursuing Sigird in the trajectory I had seen him flung, or turning around for Penitent.


    I chose Penitent.


    I found her, amazingly, on her feet as well, though her left arm had been horribly damaged, and her step was staggered and lacking her usual grace. Her right arm seemed fine, and was screechingly dragging her Eviscerator behind her. ¡°Are you alright?¡± I called to her.


    ¡°You¡¯re one to ask. Your arm?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find a third,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Come here, I¡¯ve got you,¡± I said, assisting her as best I could with one arm. ¡°Just drop it, we¡¯ll come back for it later,¡± I suggested, referring to her Eviscerator.


    ¡°What was it you told Mr. Hager? You¡¯re just looking for an excuse to embrace me?¡± she asked, laughing, but did not shirk away from my grasp, instead leaning a bit on me for support after dropping her weapon. I did not mind helping her. ¡°Where is the heretic?¡±


    ¡°Dead or dying,¡± I answered. ¡°Let¡¯s find out which,¡± I offered, and she nodded. Having once carried her full weight a handful of miles after her battle with the Eversor, helping her onward here was far easier, if still demanding. I brought her in the general direction I theorized Sigird might be. On the way, I found Mirena beyond the Bird, which she had ¡®landed¡¯ on the ship¡¯s main deck. But as that main deck was slanted and slowly sinking into the water, it looked like an awkward landing. That was not my concern in the moment, though. ¡°Get back on the Bird!¡± I shouted to her as soon as I saw her. ¡°This is still an active combat zone!¡±


    Being some distance away, she merely raised a thumb¡¯s up, then pointed to her left. I understood. She knew where Sigird had wound up. I brought Penitent in that direction, and sure enough, we found the one-armed hulk of a man bleeding out on the hull of his own ship. Except, his newfound fortitude would not allow him to die as a makeshift Astartes, so in reality he was just perpetually suffering on the side of his ship. ¡°Look at the three of us, huh?¡± he groaned as we came into his field of view. ¡°Each down an arm. Hardly my intent with you. I doubt this was your pilot¡¯s intent with me.¡±


    ¡°Not remotely, no,¡± I replied, and finally got a better look at him. His face was caved in, having been rammed by an Astartes aircraft and then smashed along the hull of the Scorix Litany. Most of the cybernetics in the back of his skull were destroyed or otherwise disconnected from him.


    ¡°Well, Pyrras, what do you know? You were right after all, eh?¡± he acknowledged, accepting his fate at my mercy, of which I would have none for him. When he asked that question, Silas and his fireteam revealed themselves, joining us by my side. ¡°Do what you must. My usefulness in the Imperium seems to have run its course.¡±


    ¡°If it ever existed in the first place,¡± I growled, raising my Bolt Pistol toward his head. My allies did the same with their armaments, save for Penitent, who did not have one.


    ¡°For Czevia,¡± Luther hissed.


    ¡°For Hans,¡± Xavier agreed.


    ¡°Thaddeus,¡± Silas nodded.


    ¡°Malkyle,¡± Penitent chimed in.


    ¡°For Val Eracian,¡± I finished.


    ¡°Who the heck is V¡ª¡± Sigird started, but I did not wait for him to finish before lighting him up. My allies fired into him in unison, the four of us pouring every manner of weapon at our disposal into the Rogue Trader-turned-Astartes. Being what he was then, I sensed him retain consciousness into our third volley. And he was still alive by the seventh. I stopped after the tenth, and my allies followed suit soon after. Luther was the last one to stop shooting Sigird, and I did not much blame him. When the smoke breezed away to reveal Sigird¡¯s remains, we saw all that was left was a sizzling slop of flesh and blood, slathered across the already-Vostroyan-red armor he once wore.


    ¡°Good frigging riddance,¡± I sighed. ¡°Silas?¡±


    ¡°Need help with her, sir?¡± he asked, referring to Penitent.


    ¡°Indirectly. We left her sword some distance back that way. Would you mind bringing it to the Bird for us?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Not at all, sir,¡± he nodded, and left to fetch it. In the meantime, I helped Penitent to the Bird, whose bay opened as we neared. Xavier and Luther kept our flank safe. I sat Penitent down on the bay¡¯s great, oversized door, and sat next to her. Ahead of us was the city of Abseradon. This was really the first look of it I had since killing Espirov.


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    The Hive City was on fire.


    Mirena approached me from behind and knelt down to wrap her arms over my shoulders, leaning her head against the back of mine. ¡°I believe it¡¯s time we had our drink, Cal,¡± she whispered to me.


    ¡°Yes, Mirena, it is. Good shot, by the way,¡± I complimented her.


    ¡°Well, best pilot and all, I gotta put my money where my mouth is sometimes,¡± she chuckled, and Castecael sat down next to me to begin tending to my missing arm.


    ¡°Tend to Penitent. An augmetic can be replaced. Hers is in more dire need of attention,¡± I ordered our medicae. Castecael looked Penitent up and down and nodded in agreement, for once not prioritizing my injuries.


    A few moments passed in silence, then, before Silas returned. He tossed Penitent¡¯s Eviscerator aboard and sat to my side, where Castecael had been, and gestured for Xavier and Luther to board the Bird. They obeyed. ¡°What happens now?¡± he asked, nodding toward Abseradon. Some missiles streaked across the skyline out of the city, heading skyward. I worried that might happen¡ªthe puppet-Okustin had known how to use the Skorpius tank too efficiently. I had worried these puppets were given intrinsic knowledge over weapon systems, and it seems my worries were right.


    ¡°We can¡¯t do anything to stop that, boots on the ground,¡± I shook my head. ¡°But we can join the Navy up above and oversee their operation, make sure this crap never gets off Hestia Majoris. After that, we head for Quintus to report in.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll be ugly,¡± Penitent acknowledged.


    ¡°Yeah, might be our toughest battle yet,¡± I scoffed. Explosions, unheard, glimmered above the clouds over Abseradon. Soon thereafter, the naval vessel I had requested be posted there emerged from the clouds, enflamed and falling fast. ¡°Come on. You don¡¯t want to be looking at or hearing that thing¡¯s landing,¡± I told my crew, who nodded and moved inside the Bird. The bay closed shortly thereafter, and we took off before the colossal blastwave of the vessel¡¯s impact with Abseradon hit us. We left the sinking Scorix Litany, with its incinerated captain, far behind us.


    ***


    In the weeks and months that followed, Abseradon saw massive casualties, as one might expect. The heretics had made 11,000 puppet-Astartes, though only 6,000 were actually deployed. The others either malfunctioned or were destroyed by the initial orbital strike on the production facilities I had ordered Batos to make. The local Arbites were the first responders to the onslaught, and they were completely wiped out, the Proctor I had met included. The PDF then followed up and suffered extreme losses as well. The fighting was intense, stretching all throughout the city and beyond its walls as PDF forces chased down puppets that sought to bunker down elsewhere. Alternatively, the puppets knew that some PDF strongholds were beyond the city walls, and so assaulted them directly on the PDF¡¯s turf.


    As I understand it, the intense bloodshed resulted in the formation of a cult of its own, feeding on what appeared to be the end of days for Hestia Majoris. With the ample sacrifice of thousands, if not millions, of citizens daily by the hands of the puppets, daemonspawn began to trickle into the city and make matters even more treacherously difficult for the PDF. In addition to the first naval vessel we saw collide with Abseradon¡ªwhich in and of itself killed about four billion people instantly¡ªanother two were brought down over the course of the ordeal as well, though they landed in the seas.


    Eventually, after three months of hellacious fighting, two regiments of the Imperial Guard arrived, one of which was the 38<sup>th</sup> Mordian Regiment. We passed on Czevia Gao¡¯s remains to them. The Guard were able to wipe out the insurgency, both within and without, after another month. All said and done, Holicar Espirov¡¯s contingency was responsible for 29 billion deaths and the loss of a tremendous amount of infrastructure. The conflict came to be known as the Red Stain of Abseradon, or to the locals, just the Red Stain, which given that I had made three of its four instigators into red stains, I felt the title was fitting.


    In the wake of the Red Stain, martial law continued. The Ixaniad Sector was heavily ruled by its noble class, and the absence of the nobles in Abseradon¡ªas they had been abducted by Espirov and the Phaenonites¡ªleft a power vacuum that a great deal of wealth volunteered to fill. In time, Abseradon would repopulate and rebuild.


    Antonius Sigird was declared Excommunicate Traitoris, his name expunged from the Imperium¡¯s recorded history. Vostroya was met with subtle punishment and shame for having raised the traitor, but they sought repentance and atonement. I did not blame the world for the man, especially not when the world came to hate the man, as I had known they would.


    When I sent my initial report of my findings to Lord Inquisitor Halloid van der Skar, my superior, I was initially congratulated on my success on Hestia Majoris, but I was recalled all the same back to Quintus. On my return home, I learned that another Ordo Sicarius Inquisitor, Vertusias Guldwald¡ªwhom I had met on Quintus some time before, and knew to be loyal¡ªhad been dispatched to Hestia Majoris to ¡®clean up.¡¯ I did not know what the details of that meant at the time, though I would soon be able to infer. Governor Merek was killed with a long-range weapon that the (rebuilding) Arbites were unable to recognize, but the Inquisition in charge of the investigation assured Abseradon that all would be well, and that a new Governor would be appointed with, and I quote, ¡°a bit more of a spine.¡±


    This created a political upheaval and thrust Abseradon into militant odds with the Inquisition. Politicians, Planetary Governors included, liked to believe they were above, or at least diplomatically on par with, the Inquisition.


    They were wrong about that, of course.

 Chapter 25 - Aftermath

    ¡°And that¡¯s the extent of things, as I am aware of them,¡± I told the group. I was sitting on one side of a long table in a dark room, whose walls I could not make out. Sitting opposite me were a handful of Inquisitors, including Lord Inquisitor Caliman, who while not my direct superior, did still outrank me. Skar placed him in charge of overseeing my debriefing and deciding what the next steps should be for me. Caliman, a hardline monodominant, did not particularly like me, not merely because of my leniency and the existence of my compassion, but also because I was a psyker. While most monodominants at least tolerated psykers as being a necessity to enforce the Emperor¡¯s Will, Caliman still believed we were better off purged in the pursuit of purity. He was a large and burly sort, and while I did not know his past his appearance suggested a military background not unlike my own. He was orderly, clean shaven of face and hair, and did not need to puff his chest forward to demonstrate his vast physical brawn. He was a man whose simple physicality allowed him to hunt and kill psykers. Not just anyone could get away with that.


    Inquisitor Emile Al-Amar sat to Caliman¡¯s left. Corvin Hythe sat to Caliman¡¯s right. The trio were all Ordo Hereticus, like myself, which made sense, as this was an Ordo Hereticus outpost. However, as my story had unfolded, they saw fit to bring others in to hear it. Inquisitor Erasmus Sadaeiv of the Ordo Malleus sat next to Emile, and when I described my duel with the Phaenonites, Erasmus called for a pause to the meeting and brought in another guest. That guest was Brother-Captain Mezentius, a Terminator of the Grey Knights. I recounted the surroundings of my duel, and the duel itself, to Brother Mezentius, who listened patiently and intently. He did not ask questions immediately afterward, instead waiting for the rest of my report to conclude.


    A further guest was invited to the scene as well, when I spoke of my battle with the Skitarii and Holicar Espirov. This final guest was Massino Varnus, Techsorcist of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Unlike Espirov, his robes remained red, and his mask was one of technology, not a Xenos skull. And just like the rest of my audience, Varnus waited for my tale to conclude before asking any questions of it. Speaking of which¡­


    ¡°So, ask away,¡± I added after finishing my recounting of events.


    ¡°It may be prudent to let our guests speak first,¡± Hythe suggested.


    ¡°Agreed. Brother Mezentius, have you anything to ask?¡± beckoned Lord Caliman.


    Mezentius, the wall of white ceramite that he was, had been too large for the seats at our table, and only now stepped up closer to it, having previously been standing behind Erasmus. ¡°The thing you sensed in the Phaenonite¡¯s head¡ªcan you describe it?¡± Mezentius asked of me. His voice was modulated by his helmet, but still came out as being direct and strong, as expected of a true Astartes.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I never saw it,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°No, but you were¡ªmentally¡ªwithin its vicinity. If you thought about it, what images would come to mind of its appearance?¡± he suggested.


    I paused and took a deep breath. ¡°Red, like the color of the blood in the room in Ryke¡¯s head. White fangs, slightly yellowed with use, black claws. Black horns. Orange, beady eyes. I could feel the eyes. It was watching me, though I sensed it hungered for Ryke,¡± I described.


    ¡°Noted. Have you seen such imagery, physically, mentally, or in your dreams, since your encounter with the Phaenonite?¡±


    ¡°I have not.¡±


    ¡°You mentioned daemonspawn appeared in Abseradon during the Red Stain. Did you get a look at any of them?¡±


    ¡°I did not.¡±


    ¡°Then why make the claim that they existed?¡±


    I nodded in understanding. ¡°There were other Inquisitors in Abseradon. You weren¡¯t here for that part of the debriefing, but that is why I instructed Lord Captain Batos to allow anyone with a Rosette off the world. One of the Inquisitors was Ivan Gallas, Ordo Malleus. He stayed on the ground during the uprising, believing his cadre could assist the ground forces. We kept in touch. He reported to me of their existence, but did not go into detail about them. He was killed during the fighting. I do not know if daemons killed him, or the puppets.¡±


    ¡°I knew Gallas,¡± Erasmus nodded, confirming my story. ¡°A fine servant of the Emperor. Shame we¡¯ve lost him. Sorry, Brother Mezentius, continue.¡±


    ¡°A question for the table, if I may,¡± Mezentius suggested.


    ¡°Please,¡± Caliman insisted.


    ¡°Were any bodies of these¡­puppets, as Inquisitor Blackgar calls them, ever recovered?¡±


    ¡°Yes, a handful.¡±


    ¡°What organs did they possess of ours?¡± Mezentius asked, and gestured to himself.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Caliman nodded, and turned to Al-Amar. ¡°Emile?¡±


    Al-Amar reached into her jacket and pulled out a thick, bound document, and began perusing over its records. ¡°Organs One through Six; Nine through Eleven; and the Eighteenth; were all present within the bodies. Strangely, the Eighteenth was rudimentary, and did not match the genetic material of its host body. More strangely, each Eighteenth in each of the host bodies we¡¯ve recovered has shared the same genetic material, though we¡¯ve been unable to identify whose¡ªlikely a servant of the Arch-Enemy.¡±


    Mezentius nodded, then looked to me, and I believe I heard a chuckle. ¡°It takes a man of impeccable character to take down a being of that caliber, much less bare-handed, much less down an arm. I know, I was not here for that part of the story, but that is as the whispered rumors say. It¡¯s quite the tale you tell, Inquisitor Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth,¡± I said flatly.


    ¡°I did not mean to insinuate otherwise. And truth though it may be, my Brothers will surely not believe it,¡± Mezentius replied. ¡°I have no further questions at this time.¡±


    ¡°Techsorcist Varnus, anything you wish to ask Inquisitor Blackgar?¡± Caliman asked.


    Varnus said nothing, but did tilt his head a bit, two blue orbs of light and glass hovered over his upper face, obscuring his eyes from outward view, while a collection of tubes coalesced into an unknown sort of gas mask that covered his nose and mouth. The whole time I had been recounting my tale, I felt he was studying me. That feeling had not changed. ¡°Techsorcist Varnus?¡± Caliman repeated.


    ¡°What are the council¡¯s plans for Inquisitor Blackgar?¡± Varnus asked at last.


    ¡°That remains to be seen,¡± Caliman admitted.


    ¡°Unsatisfactory. Inquisitor Blackgar, if your dimwitted peers permit your continued existence, I endeavor to request to form an alliance with you. Not within your retinue or cadre as you define the terms, but as a peer of your own, working in close conjunction by your side,¡± Varnus explained. Caliman and his right and left hands heaved out sighs of tested patience.


    ¡°What for?¡± I asked Varnus, unable to suppress my grin at Caliman being insulted.


    ¡°I have pursued Holicar Espirov for the better part of one-point-three standard centuries. He has eluded me often, and bested me on two occasions. I would not have permitted a third. But you have succeeded where I had not, and eliminated the vile traitor of the Omnissiah, alongside a considerable traitor-Skitarii force of his deployment, as well as the biological weapons he manufactured against you. This suggests you are a man of flesh of unusual talent and great capacity for violence. I value this. You suggest that Espirov had superiors that installed psychic shields within his mind, and that his actions on Abseradon were goaded by those masters. I concur. And I want their heads. I imagine you desire a similar outcome,¡± Varnus elaborated.


    ¡°I do,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°As I had deduced. Then an alliance seems mutually beneficial,¡± he suggested.


    ¡°And what exactly can you offer me, Techsorcist?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°My extensive experience and knowledge of the technology employed by the heretic scum. I suspect the Phaenonites are also of your quarry, and you have witnessed firsthand the Warp-augmetics they employ. I would gladly assist with dismantling their larger operations¡ªa once-ally of Espirov¡¯s is an eternal enemy of mine. On a more intimate level, I offer my assistance with augmetics needed for you and your crew. I can design a worthy replacement arm for you, or otherwise assist with other augmetics. I may be able to enable Luther Vaigg to return to Harakon safely. I do not mind providing these services for my allies,¡± Varnus offered.


    I nodded. ¡°We will have to talk more of this later, my friend.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± both he and Caliman said in unison. I turned to Caliman for the Inquisitorial line of questioning and nodded to him. He nodded in return, readying the questions he had. We may not have liked each other, but we did respect each other¡¯s positions in the Imperium. ¡°The notion of Exterminatus was frequently brought up in your report. You seemed ardently against its application, but your reasons were, at best, not clear, or selfishly guided at worst. Care to clarify?¡± Caliman asked me.


    ¡°There were a handful of reasons not to pursue Exterminatus. Yes, keeping my head on its shoulders was one. Let¡¯s not pretend we in the Inquisition have never played a lethal form of politics with one another,¡± I jested, expecting at least some sense of humor to reveal itself across the table from me. None came. ¡°But the other reasons were tactical considerations. First and foremost, an Exterminatus takes time to ready and deploy and is not a very subtle event. I believe that the heretics, given the resources they clearly possessed from the beginning, could easily have found a means to flee a planet during the setup phase of an Exterminatus operation. And in that situation, what good was it but to have delayed¡ªand not stopped¡ªthe heretics in achieving their goals? Secondly, in a broader sense, I did not feel Abseradon was ever irrecoverable. The heretics themselves may have been totally corrupt, but that corruption was not spreading to many others¡ªMerek and his goons were intimidated into their obedience, but did not believe in or support the heretics. Even if my life was lost in Abseradon, eventually the heretics would meet a military operation they could not contend with. It was in their nature, in believing that they were better than others. They were destined to fail, even if not by my hand, and Exterminatus would have risen the cost of accelerating that destiny to unnecessary levels.¡±


    ¡°Why did you willingly meet with Governor Merek prior to your kidnapping?¡±


    ¡°To avoid the unnecessary loss of Arbites life, and to avoid causing a scene in the habblock. With our position known to the Arbites, resistance would have forced us to retire to some other location¡ªwhich, I suppose, ultimately happened anyways, but I wanted to avoid that if I could. Moreover, as I mentioned at the end of my report, Planetary Governors like to operate under the assumption that they exist on par with the Inquisition. This is voidshit, of course, but while I was on his world I was content to play by Merek¡¯s rules¡ªprior to his betrayal, that is¡ªto avoid stirring up greater conflict. The extermination of the heretic in our line of work is most readily carried out with as few environmental interruptions as possible,¡± I explained.


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    ¡°Your relationships with Silas Hager, Mirena Law, and the Penitent¡ªyou seem to tolerate a great deal of insubordination from them.¡±


    ¡°Is that a question?¡±


    ¡°Would you classify them as being insubordinate? And would you say you possess an unwillingness to discipline them given the loss of your previous regiment?¡± Caliman asked.


    ¡°I would not, on both counts. My Agents do as I require of them and have never once disobeyed a direct order. Their emotional investments and predilections are not for me to correct. I do not run a regiment, I run a retinue,¡± I replied, squinting at the Lord Inquisitor.


    ¡°Two of the aforementioned three disobeyed your order to let you stand and return to work, instead forcing you into medicae attention,¡± Corvin noted, to which Caliman nodded.


    ¡°And if you overlooked that, Inquisitor Blackgar, what else have you overlooked?¡± Caliman furthered.


    ¡°The tolerance I permit myself to have for my Agents is my concern and mine alone. You possess the authority to dictate how I myself am to act in the Imperium, but you do not control the means through which I manage my Agents. Do not make the mistake of believing otherwise,¡± I quipped.


    ¡°Do not make the mistake of believing you possess any power in this room, Blackgar,¡± Caliman shot back. ¡°You are as the Canoness you interrogated on Abseradon. Which, by the way, stirred the metaphorical pot of politics quite greatly, between our Ordo and the Sororitas. Within that conflict we believe you to be in the right and are willing to protect our own, but do not push things, Blackgar. You are one of dozens of your kind and can be easily replaced. Remember that. Now, describe Silas Hager to me.¡±


    ¡°Loyal. Exceptional. The perfect soldier. A mind for tactics, and a man who knows how to accomplish any objective assigned to him.¡±


    ¡°Mirena Law.¡±


    ¡°Loyal. Exceptional. I have not seen a better pilot this side of Cadia, and expect I never shall.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯ve forced the inside joke outward. What of her imprisonment?¡±


    ¡°Irrelevant.¡±


    ¡°To you?¡±


    ¡°To the needs of the Imperium. Mirena Law¡¯s aerial warfare skills extend beyond the cockpit; she is an impeccable soldier, the very sort any leader with a brain stem would desire.¡±


    ¡°The Penitent.¡±


    ¡°Loyal. Exceptional. Devout. Powerful to the extreme, and a master of martial combat. A sharpened edge of divine fury.¡±


    ¡°You love them.¡±


    ¡°As I loved the 8<sup>th</sup>.¡±


    ¡°No. More than that. Does it cloud your judgment?¡±


    ¡°It does not.¡±


    Caliman visibly did not believe me, squinting his eyes and shaking his head slightly. ¡°You romanticize. You described as such.¡±


    ¡°Love is frowned upon, not outlawed. Brothers in arms fraternize,¡± I suggested, and glanced to Mezentius, who nodded in agreement but otherwise said nothing. ¡°Bonds forged in bloodshed are hard to break. They go deep. But they do not interfere with duty. It would take a warrior to know,¡± I suggested, smirking.


    ¡°You insolent cur!¡± Caliman roared, pounding the table with a fist. ¡°For one so concerned with losing his head in Exterminatus, you ought to know to hold your tongue, Blackgar! I know well the extent of natural bonding, and I know that what you¡¯ve admitted to exceeds that.¡±


    ¡°But you do not know that such a bond impedes my ability to act,¡± I returned. ¡°You cannot. Because that isn¡¯t true.¡±


    ¡°Tell that to the 29 billion dead of the Red Stain!¡± Caliman shouted.


    ¡°That¡¯s on me, then, and not the heretics?¡±


    ¡°You could have let Espirov live until we disarmed his contingency! You could have done that, and in our custody, we could have gotten his masters from him, and Throne knows what else! But you refused because¡ª¡±


    ¡°Because he was a heretic and deserved to meet his ultimate end given the first opportunity!¡± I shouted back.


    ¡°Because he killed Hans Okustin,¡± Caliman finished, seething. ¡°Don¡¯t dilute yourself, Blackgar. Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re stronger than you are. Isn¡¯t that what Silas Hager warned you about? You have an emotional weakness and it has bested you. 29 billion lives is the price of that. More, even, if we could have stopped his master¡¯s continuing plans before they reveal themselves. Your bonds do not impede your ability to act, they force you to. You are unrestrained, and allowed your pursuit of the heretics to become personal, rather than a matter of your duty.¡±


    Tense silence filled the room while Caliman and I stared one another down. I would not say I did not understand his perspective. In the wake of the Red Stain, the hard questions needed to be asked, the difficult assertions needed to be made. Some years ago, I was as hardline as he. Okustin was a hardline monodominant under my watch, and I had been the same under Scayn. But Caliman, it seemed, never grew to wiser, more tolerant levels. It was his weakness; he, of course, saw my tolerance as my weakness in turn.


    ¡°Do you have any further questions?¡± I asked him after cooling off a bit. I could not tell if he had as well, yet.


    He made the sound of a musing growl, then nodded. ¡°Gale Ryke and Foxon Silverman were known defectors of the Inquisition. Which implies they had somewhere to defect to, and Ryke implied the existence of further Phaenonite cells in the sector. Do you have any insight into their whereabouts or activity?¡± Caliman asked.


    ¡°I do not. As our Techsorcist inferred, I intend to pursue such an investigation into them, but have little to go on at this time,¡± I replied, shaking my head.


    ¡°And you could not discern Espirov¡¯s allegiance?¡± Corvin asked. I shook my head again.


    ¡°I may have a suspicion,¡± Mezentius piped up. We turned to him. ¡°It is not within the usual remit of my Chapter, but Espirov was described as wearing silver robes with gold trim? Such are the colors of one of the blasphemous Astartes Legions¡ªthe Iron Warriors. And they have a tendency for cybernetics and genetic growths, and would have valued Espirov¡¯s research as described on Abseradon. Their homeworld is Medrengard, not far from this Sector, in the damned Eye of Terror. They would have the resources to acquire a Genetor like Espirov, and to provide him with rudimentary gene-seed, explaining the unidentifiability of that organ, as mentioned earlier. They are known to have Warbands within both Calixis and Scarus. It would not be a surprise to see their activity within Ixaniad as well.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Brother Mezentius. If that is true, Inquisitor Blackgar, you have halted the workings of an enemy of atrocious power. For that, the Inquisition commends you,¡± Caliman admitted. ¡°While your fate within the Inquisition is as yet unsettled, from one Inquisitor to another, I urge you caution in pursuing Espirov¡¯s masters. Both of you, Blackgar and Varnus. Four heretics on a hive world is one problem; a traitor legion is another one altogether. And there is another matter yet undiscussed.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Your suspicion that there was a fifth party involved in the Hestia Majoris operation. Your insistence killed Gale Ryke. Elaborate on your suspicion, please,¡± Caliman requested.


    ¡°It simply did not seem viable to me that the Phaenonites, a Heretek¡ªespecially one loyal to a legion of traitor Astartes¡ªand a rogue trader of wavering loyalty could fall in line with one another by pure happenstance. Even if, and this is a gigantic if, but even if their interests aligned, the odds of personality clashes among heretics of such different backgrounds would lead to their operation being utterly untenable. And we now know they were conducting their operation for multiple years, working in tandem without issue. That kind of unity cannot be mere coincidence. It is simply not within the realm of possibility. So if it was not coincidence, which each of the four genuinely believed it was, then there was a fifth involved, behind the scenes, nudging the unwitting heretics into cooperation. I have no concrete evidence of this. But the alternative is simply not believable,¡± I explained.


    Caliman heaved in a deep breath and sighed. ¡°And I am inclined to agree. Phaenonite cells. A presumed traitor Warband in Ixaniad. And something¡­else. Something with the power to manipulate these parties without their knowledge, and in possession of the knowledge to know how to do so. A hopeful universe would wish it were not so, but signs point to you having uncovered the tip of a spear we did not know was pointed at us. And that tip alone has slain 29 billion lives.¡±


    Caliman paused for a moment, then stood to his feet and collected his notes from the table. The other Inquisitors opposite me rose as well, though Varnus remained seated. ¡°Inquisitor Callant Blackgar,¡± Caliman started. ¡°Thank you for your service to Holy Terra and the God-Emperor in the name of the Inquisition. Your efforts on Hestia Majoris have stemmed a tide of corruption that could have proven disastrous for the Ixaniad Sector. But,¡± he began, then paused for a moment, and I already knew what he was going to say.


    ¡°You are going to recommend to Lord Inquisitor Halloid van der Skar that I be taken to trial for censure,¡± I concluded.


    ¡°You have a record of leaving great volumes of bodies in your wake. Politically, the Inquisition needs you to not be in active service for a time. And I firmly believe you and your cadre require greater discipline. We will see you in the trial,¡± he explained, then nodded to me and left. The other Inquisitors followed suit.


    I sighed, deflated, but at least I had survived the debriefing. That was one battle down. Unfortunately, Caliman had hinted that he planned to bring more than merely me myself to trial. He wanted to try my Agents, see if he could break them under the pressure of an Inquisitorial review. I sat in silence for a few moments, and then realized that I was not alone in the room, and still shared it with our guests. It was upon recognizing that fact that Mezentius addressed me. ¡°I care little for Inquisitorial politics,¡± he admitted. ¡°I believe you and I share a degree of similarity, in that we both have followed orders all our lives. Were my orders to end you, I would. But for what it¡¯s worth, Inquisitor Blackgar, I believe you are of a rare breed. It takes heart to emerge victorious from the battles that you have, and mind to navigate the labyrinth of your Inquisition. I admit I may only have one of those,¡± he suggested, chuckling.


    ¡°I envy you, Brother Mezentius, in many ways,¡± I sighed. He gestured for me to elaborate. ¡°You exist beyond the world of trivialities. You carry yourself ever in the divine light of the God-Emperor. You get to live knowing that your every action is without fault, and that none of your choices would ever be questioned. I do not envy the authority that brings, but, rather, the clarity.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my dear Inquisitor, that is not true. No mortal in all the Imperium is without the burden of doubt,¡± Mezentius assured me. ¡°The infinite clarity of which you suggest is wielded only by our God-Emperor upon His Throne. The likes of us are only ever within His light because we have the wisdom to question ourselves, and to be questioned by our peers. You can possess confidence in your actions while also being accepting of the criticism given to you by worthy speakers.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Brother Mezentius, for your wisdom and kind words,¡± I nodded to him, and bowed with the Sign of the Aquila on my chest. He did the same, then chuckled again. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The thought occurred to me that if your trial goes awry, and they sentence you to¡­more than censure, I may be willing to recommend you join my Chapter. You possess much of the requisite talent for it. You are perhaps a bit old of age, but I do not doubt willing Apothecaries could negate that,¡± Mezentius offered.


    ¡°You honor me, Brother Mezentius. More than you can know. But I do not imagine that would be a viable fate. Unlike you, I have heard the laughter of the Warp. I am not beyond its temptation. I like to think I possess the strength of character to resist, but I must resist. I am not immune, as you are,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± he shrugged. ¡°One last thing, if I may. Is it true you possess a Nemesis Falchion?¡± I nodded. ¡°May I see it?¡± I stood to my feet to draw the weapon before him. ¡°Ah! Such fine weapons, no?¡± he asked, and revealed two of his own, he having been trained to wield them both at once. I imagine I could have, as well, if given a second and some time to practice. ¡°And you have put yours to excellent use. You know my remit, Inquisitor, yes?¡± Again, I nodded to him. ¡°Then you know I answer to Malleus, and must obey their orders. But if your time within the Inquisition is not at an end, and you find yourself in the need of my Chapter¡¯s services, do reach out. I would be honored to assist, and I am certain my Battle-Brothers will wish to meet you as well.¡±


    ¡°The honor would be mine, Brother Mezentius, thank you,¡± I bowed to him.


    ¡°I have little desire to see you bow, Inquisitor Blackgar. Refrain from that in the future. I hope you fare well within this labyrinth of yours,¡± Mezentius offered, and took his leave.


    I turned to Varnus. ¡°You¡¯re still here, after all of that?¡±


    ¡°An attempt at humor? I have gathered that is a usual affair within your retinue,¡± Varnus replied, rising to his feet, servos whirring and hydraulic pistons firing. ¡°Your peers in the Inquisition are uninspiring and dull. You are not so banal. I intend to petition for your survival.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Techsorcist,¡± I smiled, and held out my one hand to him. I had not had the time or resources to fit a replacement augmetic yet.


    Varnus took and shook my hand. ¡°Fascinating. I have not felt another¡¯s flesh in decades. Four-point-eight, I believe. After hearing of Holicar Espirov¡¯s supposed masters, you still intend to face them?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Then you will need superior equipment. Should you survive your idiotic peers, I will have Ignatus Armor forged for you,¡± Varnus confirmed with himself. ¡°Your weaponry, and that of your allies, will also need improvement. Lasguns will be inefficient against Astartes and their agents. You have familiarity with a Bolt Pistol, but I believe I can requisition heavier armaments of the sort that are still within the capacity of men, such as yourself, to wield. Do not thank me, as I deduce you are inclined to. You are the soldier of our arrangement, Inquisitor Blackgar. I am the supplier of arms and the investigator of the enemy¡¯s equipment. Our relationship is one of congruence.¡±


    I nodded, still smiling. ¡°I believe you are correct, Techsorcist. An alliance will be most beneficial to us both.¡±


    ¡°The odds of my being correct have exceeded ninety-eight-percent for the last century. Your assertion is simultaneously believable and unsurprising in this regard.¡±

 Chapter 26 - Reconciliation

    Quintus itself was a barren ice world. There were human outposts on it, but they were mostly military R&D or emergency bunkers for Inquisitorial Agents. The Dawnshadow, however, was where most of the Inquisitorial activity took place. A gigantic, sprawling Ramilies-class Starfort, the Dawnshadow was the headquarters of the Ordo Hereticus within the Ixaniad Sector. Some Ordo Malleus and Ordo Xenos representatives occasionally frequented it as well, if they were needed to sit in on consultations as Erasmus Sadaeiv had been invited to my debriefing. A Ramilies on its own could go toe-to-toe with a sizable fleet, and the Dawnshadow was no exception. But being an Inquisitorial outpost, particularly one belonging to Ordo Hereticus, it was not uncommon for the Starfort to be accompanied by a handful¡ªor several¡ªnaval vessels as well. Black Ships often patrolled the space around Dawnshadow, ready to respond to any possible insurgency. When you¡¯re poised opposite Cadia from the Eye of Terror, you need to be ready for anything; the heretical forces of the arch-enemy were generally more interested in Cadia in providing a path toward Holy Terra, but they were all-too keen to expand out their flanks as well.


    Of some concern was that Holicar Espirov, and the Phaenonites by extension, knew there was an Inquisitorial outpost at Quintus at all, as revealed in my being tortured/interrogated. If, indeed, Espirov was an agent of a damned Iron Warriors Warband, then it was a safe assumption that Warband knew of our location as well. I would not be surprised if Lord Caliman put forth a request for an increased Navy presence both at Quintus and around its borders. Cadia may have been the wall that stood between the forces of Chaos and the rest of the Imperium, but we were the wall that kept them from the rest of the Segmentum Obscurus and the Halo Stars. Ever, we needed to be on alert, and Espirov¡¯s presence was no small discovery.


    In addition to its vast array of weapons and defenses, the Dawnshadow also served as a political and resource hub for the Inquisition. Inquisitors, their Agents, and their allies¡ªlike Techsorcist Varnus¡ªfrequented the Dawnshadow to resupply or report in on their activity. An Astropathic communications array served to keep the Dawnshadow in contact with its operatives throughout Ixaniad, and to keep in touch with Calixis, with whom we had good relations.


    Well, as good relations as the Inquisition could manage with itself, which usually was not particularly great.


    Most importantly, the Dawnshadow had a bar with a good, round table. Five days after my debriefing, I was hit with charges for censure and re-disciplining. So, too, were Mirena, Penitent, and Silas, as I expected and had warned them about. They did not seem to care. I informed the entirety of my remaining crew, and most of us decided to gather for drinks for what may have been our last opportunity together. Most of us. ¡°So, where is Zha, anyways?¡± Silas asked, bringing a tray of drinks to our table and handing them out to their respective drinkers. Penitent, as ever, did not indulge in the imbibing, but did join us for the event.


    ¡°She wanted some time to herself,¡± I answered, taking a shot glass and a bottle of Gleece from Silas¡¯s tray. ¡°I¡¯ll check in on her this evening, make sure she¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°If you can hold your liquor, that is,¡± Mirena taunted me from across the table, taking two shot glasses from Silas¡¯s tray. Castecael, sitting next to her, took their bottle of Gleece.


    ¡°I can hold my own, thanks,¡± I assured her, then raised my glass. ¡°To the fallen.¡±


    ¡°To Hans,¡± Mirena nodded.


    ¡°To Czevia,¡± Silas, Luther, and Xavier said in unison.


    ¡°Thaddeus,¡± Castecael offered.


    ¡°Malkyle,¡± I said, glancing to Penitent with a smile.


    ¡°And to Val,¡± Penitent nodded, also smiling to me. Our group clanged our glasses together and sent the drinks down. Penitent then chuckled to herself.


    ¡°Something funny over there, Sister?¡± Xavier asked her.


    ¡°Were Hans still with us, he would¡¯ve been charged as well,¡± she noted.


    ¡°Yeah, he would¡¯ve been,¡± I nodded, pouring myself another shot, and downed it immediately. ¡°Oh, he would¡¯ve torn Caliman a new one,¡± I chuckled, shaking my head.


    ¡°He¡¯s not the only one, sir,¡± Luther noted. I raised my eyebrows toward him. ¡°What, I can¡¯t be the only one thinking it! We give all we gave, do all we did, and the four of you have to take a fall for it? It¡¯s not frigging right. If Caliman goes for your neck, sir, he¡¯ll start a war.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the kind of war you win, Luther,¡± Silas warned him.


    ¡°Who said anything about winning it? And it¡¯s not just me saying it,¡± Luther replied.


    ¡°Who else, then?¡± Castecael asked.


    Luther looked to Xavier and gestured to the table. Xavier sighed and shrugged. ¡°I¡­heard some ambiance,¡± Xavier admitted. ¡°Sometimes I can¡¯t help it. But it¡¯s none of my business to know. I shouldn¡¯t have frigging told Luther,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°I agree, you shouldn¡¯t have,¡± I confirmed. ¡°That being said, the damage is done, and Caliman hates my guts and those of anyone that associates with me. A little rumor isn¡¯t going to hurt things any,¡± I said, inviting him to spill it.


    ¡°Ha, fair enough,¡± he shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s a handful of, uh, shall we say ¡®like-minded¡¯ Inquisitors who share Luther¡¯s opinion over here. I didn¡¯t feel for their names. But there¡¯s also an AdMech here on the Starfort who seems to know what you¡¯re up to, and doesn¡¯t hold Caliman in very high regard.¡±


    ¡°His name is Varnus,¡± I told him. ¡°If we survive, you¡¯ll all probably get to know him in some capacity. He¡¯s expressed an interest in my work already.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s more than an interest, sir,¡± Xavier suggested. ¡°Not unlike the phrasing Espirov used, this AdMech¡ªVarnus¡ªis putting ¡®contingencies¡¯ in place in case Caliman tries to have you killed. I¡¯m not fully aware of the details. But Varnus wants you alive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware,¡± I chuckled, and poured myself another shot of Gleece.


    ¡°He¡¯s an ally?¡± Silas asked.


    ¡°If only you knew,¡± I laughed. ¡°Guys, listen¡ªI don¡¯t expect Caliman will go for my neck, as Luther put it. I expect he¡¯d very much like to. But he knows it wouldn¡¯t go over too well, not after our success. He is a man who says exactly what he means, and he recommended censure and disciplinary action. That¡¯s what he wants out of this.¡±


    ¡°Well, what exactly does that mean in not-Inquisitor speak?¡± Penitent asked.


    I laughed and shrugged. ¡°My guess?¡± A few nods followed. ¡°Mirena goes back to prison for a time. Silas is asked to submit to training regimes to be an Inquisitorial Tempestus Scion. For you, Penitent, I don¡¯t really know. But for me, I think they¡¯ll keep me here, on Quintus, where they can keep an eye on me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not very keen on going back to prison,¡± Mirena grumbled.


    ¡°Won¡¯t be like Naval prison. It¡¯ll be Inquisitorial,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Surely that¡¯s worse?¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily. They may keep you here, where I can keep an eye on you. It¡¯s unlikely they¡¯ll try to separate us much; Inquisitors plucking Agents from each other never goes well for anyone involved,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Oh! Maybe they¡¯ll have us share a cell!¡± she exclaimed.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d rather they just shoot me,¡± I replied, making everyone laugh, save for Mirena, who winked to me with a lovingly sinister sneer.


    ***


    ¡°Enter!¡± Zha shouted after I knocked on the door of her chambers. I obeyed, thumbing the sigil on the cogitator to record my access to her room. Like the rest of us, she had a closet of a room, with barely the space for a chair to sit in adjacent to her bed. Dawnshadow may have been a massive installation, but only so much of that could be dedicated to crew and guest quarters. ¡°How were the drinks, Mr. Blackgar?¡± she asked after I entered her room. She was reading a dataslate, which was perfectly ordinary of her, while laying on her bed. ¡°And please, take a seat.¡±


    ¡°The drinks were fine. The group missed you,¡± I explained, sitting next to her.


    ¡°Yes, I calculated that they would. I will apologize to them for that,¡± she replied. She then sat up, putting her dataslate aside, and folded her hands in her lap. They were trembling.


    ¡°Are you alright, Ms. Trantos?¡± I asked her, already knowing the answer. She turned her head to my face, and shook it gently. It was not like her not to know what to say, but I think I knew. ¡°You don¡¯t want to lose us,¡± I asserted.


    ¡°And I already have lost two of you,¡± she confirmed, nodding. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to keep that from happening again. And now you say the Inquisition threatens censure and more. I can¡¯t let that happen, Mr. Blackgar. The team is the only family I have after Thantalus. I won¡¯t lose anyone else. But¡­I don¡¯t have the field abilities to keep that from happening in situations like those that claimed Ms. Gao and Mr. Okustin. I have inferred from your emotional anguish that their loss has impacted you similarly. How do we keep ourselves together, Mr. Blackgar, and keep this loss from repeating?¡±


    I nodded, and believe I loosed a tear, before saying, ¡°Come here.¡± And I embraced her in my one remaining arm. She happily embraced me in return, eager to rest her weight on me. I was eager to share it. Savants were not without emotion. They were, however, without the knowledge of how to wield it. Most savants have, to their pleasure, very busy, administrative lives. Zha¡¯s was a life of far greater tragedy than usually ever befell her kind. I could not begin to imagine how that interrupted the flow of the logical, calculative thoughts which she ordinarily found so much safety in. ¡°I¡­have an idea, Ms. Trantos, though it does not address the trial,¡± I told her as our hug eventually ended. I found she had allowed herself to cry as well, but she focused on composing herself quickly as soon as her face revealed itself to me again.


    ¡°Well I have one for the trial, which as ever makes us a capable team, Mr. Blackgar,¡± she replied, voice a bit stuffy. ¡°What is your idea?¡±


    ¡°If you feel you are up to it, I would like to invite you to get a little closer to the data of the Inquisition, Ms. Trantos, in that I would like to suggest you fulfill Okustin¡¯s role as my Interrogator,¡± I offered to her. ¡°I suspect you would be exceptional in the position.¡±


    ¡°I do not possess Mr. Okustin¡¯s combat skills,¡± she deflected.


    ¡°Those can be instructed and learned. The skills and talents you already possess, Ms. Trantos, cannot. They are invaluable, and rare, in that regard. You would aid me greatly in this capacity if you were to accept,¡± I explained to her.


    ¡°Interrogators commonly emerge on the path to becoming an Inquisitor. Would that be my fate as well? Do Inquisitors serve other Inquisitors? I have no desire to leave your service if not,¡± she objected.


    ¡°Your fate is yours, Ms. Trantos. You do not need to be an Inquisitor if you do not wish to be. But to answer your question, yes, you could be a fully-fledged Inquisitor with a retinue of your own, and still report to me,¡± I replied. ¡°You can spend some time to think about it.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Is that yes you¡¯d like to think about it, or¡ª¡±


    ¡°With the information as presented I have concluded, after lengthy thought, that yes, I would like to serve as your Interrogator, Mr. Blackgar. Thank you,¡± she smiled. The thought seemed, to me, immediate and not very lengthy. But then again, I was merely me, and she the savant. ¡°On the condition that such a role comes with combat training and the means to keep the team together firsthand.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Ms. Trantos,¡± I nodded, laughing. ¡°I do hope you understand you are an invaluable ally.¡±


    ¡°You have used the word ¡®invaluable¡¯ to describe me on fourteen occasions, twice so far in this conversation alone. It seems to be a recurring trend,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°I suspect it shall stay as such,¡± I admitted. ¡°Now, you had said you had an idea for the trial?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I would like to request that you allow me to serve as your representative counsel. You, and the other three as charged,¡± Zha suggested.


    ¡°I¡­thank you, Ms. Trantos, that is very kind. But Inquisitorial policies¡ª¡±


    ¡°Inquisitorial policies do not exclude Inquisitorial Agents from operating on behalf of their Inquisitors in this capacity. It has occurred and been recorded 1,193 times in the Imperium thus far, and there exist ample case studies to refer to,¡± she said, interrupting me. She then smiled and leaned closer to me. ¡°When you told me of the charges against you, I deduced I should read up. So that¡¯s been my evening.¡±


    ¡°The Codices and Mandates of the Inquisition are vast, how could you¡ª¡±


    ¡°They amount to a few thousand volumes of texts, yes. I confess I have only finished a rough fraction of them in this evening, but I expect I will have memorized their entirety by the time of your trial,¡± she explained. ¡°Uh, admittedly, my request for access was taking too long. The estimated time for my request to be fulfilled would have exceeded the duration of your trial itself.¡±


    ¡°Then how are you studying up?¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t make me answer that question before an Inquisitor,¡± she pleaded of me.


    I laughed. ¡°Ms. Trantos, do you mean to imply that you would dare bypass the vast bureaucracy of the Imperium on my behalf?¡± I mockingly scolded. ¡°I¡¯m flattered.¡±


    ¡°I thought you would be,¡± she said, now laughing with me. ¡°So, may I serve as your counsel, Mr. Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°It would be my pleasure, Ms. Trantos,¡± I nodded.

 Chapter 27 - Tribulation

    The trial, as far as I could tell, was going well. While I did believe Zha that Inquisitorial Agents had served their Inquisitors as representatives in such a trial, I do not believe those Agents have ever been savants. I got the sense that the tribunal, consisting of van der Skar, Caliman, and a third Inquisitor Lord, Govan Hargro, very much wanted to forbid my savant from serving in this capacity, as she was thoroughly outwitting them. At the same time, though, they did not want to go against established procedure, and so appeared to reluctantly suffer her presence for the full extent of the trial. All I needed to do was stand attentive and responsive for any questions of direct examination.


    And I gather this was much the case of the other trials as well, for Mirena, Silas, and Penitent, who all happily accepted Zha¡¯s assistance. I did not sit in on the activities of those trials, nor did I ask my cadre how they were going, as I wanted to remain as hands off as possible for their proceedings so as not to appear to be interfering, in Caliman¡¯s paranoid eyes. But occasional drinks and evening meals together found my retinue in persistently high spirits, so I assumed Zha was performing as admirably in their trials as in mine. Zha herself kept to her quarters during such periods of time, keeping herself occupied with the task of our defense. As ever, she enjoyed having something to work on. Were we strangers to serving alongside Zha, we may have felt a bit guilty about offloading the brunt of the task of our defense onto her shoulders. As it was, however, we knew her desire to understand and complete the task on her own was genuine.


    Our trials were intrinsically connected. Details revealed in one were relevant to the others. For that reason, the tribunal decided to wait for all four trials to conclude before doling out sentencing. That took twenty days, which was considerably fast for Inquisitorial tribunals. I had seen trials for a single individual take several months, though ours was not a life-or-death situation. Hopefully. I suspected everyone on the tribunal wanted to get things over with as quickly as possible, as every Inquisitor involved undoubtedly had better things to be doing than policing one another.


    At the end of those twenty days, the four of us on trial were summoned to before the tribunal to receive their verdict and, if applicable, sentencing. I was the last to arrive¡ªthe others were escorted in earlier by the tribunal¡¯s staff, whereas I was offered the courtesy to arrive of my own accord, albeit expected at the provided time. I sat at one end of a table in a great hall I had been in two times before; once to be inducted into the Inquisition from the Black Ships and then appointed to Thaddeus Scayn, and once to be given the rank of Inquisitor. White columns lined the hall, braziers burning whilst wielding tapestry of the Inquisition and Imperium alike that hung affixed to their undersides. At the far end of the hall, opposite the table at which I sat down, a tall booth shrouded much of van der Skar, Caliman, and Hargro from us, only their shoulders and heads peaking out from above its intricate hardwood design.


    To my right sat Penitent, then Silas, then Mirena. To my left stood Zha, who gave me a gentle, welcoming smile as I arrived, but otherwise stood attentive to the tribunal with her hands folded behind her back. Penitent put a hand atop mine on the table shortly after I sat down. Though we had seen each other at least daily since the start of the trials, I had not felt her touch once within that time. It, as ever, gave my mind some semblance of peace and rest.


    ¡°Ms. Trantos, the tribunal has reviewed the cases of your clients thoroughly and arrived at a preliminary judgment,¡± Hargro spoke. ¡°However, we would afford you the opportunity to make a general closing statement, if you so desire, as is the right of your position and that of your clients.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lord Inquisitor,¡± Zha nodded. ¡°I will close things only by noting that the Inquisition is the final line of defense for the sanctity and security of the Imperium. It is easy to understand, then, why a substantial degree of scrutiny is maintained within its own organization. But I will also note that Inquisitors are not infallible. The affairs on Hestia Majoris revealed as such of two Phaenonites. So I charge you with that which you already know to be your responsibility: to hold the line in protecting the Imperium. To accept suitable allies where they are found. And not to mistake scrutiny as a means of acquiring or maintaining power where it is not needed. We submit to and recognize the authority and judgment of your tribunal, in the name of the Holy Inquisition and the Beneficent God-Emperor of Mankind.¡±


    ¡°Caliman,¡± van der Skar uttered without much show of emotion.


    ¡°It is not unheard of for an Agent of the Throne to act in defense of their Inquisitor in this capacity as you have, Ms. Trantos,¡± Caliman recognized. ¡°However, it is unheard of for that Agent to be a savant. Your kind is a difficult sort. To your credit, Ms. Trantos, you are well-spoken and do not miss the vagaries of social cues, as is often the case with savants. This makes you more dangerous. Tell us, prior to your involvement with our Ordo, what was your field of employ on Thantalus?¡±


    ¡°I served as a contracted librarian and data reciprocator for House Temmeres,¡± Zha replied at once. ¡°Am I on trial, or are my clients?¡±


    Caliman smirked. ¡°We shall see, won¡¯t we? You are peculiarly fluent in Inquisitorial proceedings. How has that happened?¡±


    ¡°I have, in the Low Gothic, picked it up on the job, in serving Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± Zha nodded, which was not untrue.


    ¡°Does Inquisitor Blackgar have a vested interest in you understanding the inner workings of the Inquisition?¡± Caliman asked.


    Zha turned to me. I shrugged and laid an empty hand forward, toward the tribunal, telling her to respond as she saw fit. ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar has, for some time, considered reassessing my role in his retinue to that of a¡ªthen additional¡ªInterrogator. The loss of Hans Okustin has made that once-redundancy more relevant. Given the deeper relations between Interrogators and the roles of the Inquisition, and given the growth prospects of those Interrogators¡ªwhich Inquisitor Blackgar had acknowledged¡ªI deemed it proper to study such things, and Inquisitor Blackgar made no objection,¡± Zha reported. Again, not untrue.


    ¡°Hm,¡± Caliman both mused and snorted. ¡°Very well. One final line of questioning for you, Ms. Trantos: what is your unbiased assessment of Inquisitor Blackgar, as a savant of your stature within the Imperium?¡±


    ¡°My assessment of Inquisitor Blackgar?¡± she asked, a tone of sheepishness I had rarely heard previously then eking out from her voice. It was unlike her to be reluctant to respond to a question. Caliman nodded, smirking, eager to know how a savant would evaluate me. ¡°In two words: disciplined brutality. Inquisitor Blackgar is a militant sort, whose world is one of combat. He is capable, orderly, and largely uncompromising. He is loyal to the extreme, and to cross him is to invite a form of wrath so vicious I have not the words for it. He is immensely talented, brilliant, and dutiful, but not without flaws.¡±


    Caliman paused for a moment, then repeated my gesture of inviting her to speak. ¡°Flaws? Such as?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I understand its relevance to this proceeding, but the personal nature¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Ms. Trantos; answer the Lord Inquisitor¡¯s question,¡± I told her.


    ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar possesses a foundation of self-loathing,¡± Zha reported. She was right, ultimately, and I knew that even then, but I was still taken aback by it. We had never discussed as much before. ¡°It exposes his pride and makes him vulnerable when that pride is threatened. The threat of loss or defeat is perceived as a personal slight and is responded to in aggressively militant measure. The denial of control over himself or his own actions wounds him. He is a gifted man, and not merely in the psyker sense. He is brilliant, even by my standards, capable, and one might even use the word invaluable. But from his gifts he denies himself the opportunity to accept loss.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯ve arrived at a piece of that conclusion,¡± Caliman nodded. ¡°One final question: What is your understanding of the events of Thantalus?¡±


    ¡°I understand the divisive intent of that question as much as I understand the meaning of its words,¡± Zha noted, and Caliman could not help but awkwardly grunt as my savant went toe-to-toe with his questioning. ¡°Forgive me, for as a savant I absorb fact, but I understand the existence of politics¡ªI know there is a difference between what I know occurred on Thantalus and what is alright to say.¡±


    ¡°Within this hall, Ms. Trantos, are only those who know the facts. You will not be punished for their utterance,¡± van der Skar assured her. ¡°However, your discretion is noted and appreciated.¡±


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    ¡°Thank you, Lord Inquisitor,¡± she nodded. ¡°I understand that a cult of the arch-enemy infiltrated many of the houses¡ªmy own included¡ªof Thantalus. I understand that they wielded heretical techniques to bring forth daemons of¡­well, frankly, I don¡¯t know the workings of that. I understand the fighting caused by that heresy claimed many lives.¡±


    ¡°Do you understand Inquisitor Blackgar¡¯s involvement?¡± Caliman asked her.


    ¡°I understand he found and destroyed the heresy at its source,¡± she suggested.


    ¡°And initiated the subsequent fighting in the process,¡± Hargro added.


    ¡°You seek for my unbiased opinion on the extent of the violence, and Inquisitor Blackgar¡¯s mediation or exacerbation thereof,¡± Zha inferred.


    ¡°Yes. That,¡± van der Skar admitted. ¡°A great deal behind the existence of this tribunal to begin with concerns the violence on Hestia Majoris juxtaposed upon Inquisitor Blackgar¡¯s prior involvement in the violence on Thantalus. Where the former Commissar goes, bloodshed seems to follow. It is our role in the Imperium to both make the insinuation and deduce whether there is any weight to it.¡±


    ¡°Unbiased opinion?¡± Zha started, then slid her arms from her backside to her front, crossing them over her chest. She then paused and looked down. It was also unlike her to pause. ¡°In my studies of Inquisitors, I have come to understand that the nature of how they wield their power varies greatly. Some of you are a gentle breeze that quietly whisks away the heretic in assuming obscurity. Some of you are a world-shattering firestorm of obliteration.¡± She then looked up to face the tribunal again. ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar is, true to his time as a Commissar, a blade. Its edge is tempered in warfare. But the blade can be stayed. It has, in the past, been stayed. Like a surgeon, Blackgar cuts out an infection and all it has reached. The collateral damage of such a process may be ugly and costly. But that cost is not often measured in the context of the whole. I do not believe Inquisitor Blackgar has, since becoming an Inquisitor, ever once been responsible for extraneous damage. It is my assessment, given what I know of the situations, that the damage to Hestia Majoris is a minimum of what was possible. The damage to Thantalus, the damage that rid me of my House, is a minimum of what was possible.¡±


    The tribunal mused over that for a time, then Caliman nodded to van der Skar. ¡°No further questions,¡± van der Skar decided, and then rose from his seat. ¡°Phaenonite Inquisitors. A dreaded Heretek of possible connection to a Traitor Legion. A traitorous defector of a Rogue Trader. Tremendous resources funneled into Hestia Majoris for a most vile, debased operation. The five of you, and others of your cadre, defused and destroyed that operation. Understand that in our judgment to follow, we do not deny the success of your activities. Understand that we do not neglect the personal cost¡ªbodily or of your allies¡¯ lives. You have all served the Imperium greatly. What we judge today are minutiae. The smaller toils that did not prevent the greater success you realized, but may have possibly inhibited it, or may run the risk of doing so in the future. It is not this council¡¯s goals to punish you; rather, to purge your flaws, that you may best wield your excellence against the Throne¡¯s abhorrent enemies.


    ¡°Mirena Law,¡± van der Skar called, and she rose to her feet. ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar saw fit to commute your sentence in return for your service to him and the Inquisition likewise. We will not renege that commutation. And for what it¡¯s worth, following Inquisitor Blackgar¡¯s reports of your background, the man responsible¡ªand others like him¡ªhave been dealt with. Their motivations, fueled by lust, venture too far from the light of the Emperor. However, you have struck a superior officer¡ªan Inquisitor; following that Inquisitor¡¯s interrogation of the Canoness¡ªand have displayed a general lack of respect for authority. You have admitted to being uncaring about the role of respect in the Imperium. This will not be tolerated. You are sentenced to ten years imprisonment, followed by five years required regimental rehabilitation, followed by five years required training of your peers, supervised by an appointee of our own and agreed upon by Inquisitor Blackgar. You may sit.


    ¡°Silas Hager. You have served Inquisitor Blackgar well and with honor. But you have neglected to fully recognize the omnipresent superiority of his position, and have disobeyed direct orders or otherwise evidence a reluctance to comply. This, too, will not be tolerated, and is worrisome for a man of your background. Furthermore, it is vital you understand that the nature of the entity you killed in Abseradon is kept secret to the extreme. To speak of anything you saw or were informed of by Inquisitor Blackgar beyond these halls will see you killed without hesitation. Is that understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, it is,¡± Silas nodded.


    ¡°Very well. For your insubordination, we sentence you to ten years further training with the Schola Progenium, followed by five years of you instructing would-be Inquisitorial Tempestus Scions, supervised by an appointee of our own and agreed upon by Inquisitor Blackgar. You may sit. The Penitent. While it is within our authority to punish you, it is not of our desires to. However, we acknowledge the conflict of your faith and your desire, so this may seem like a punishment unto itself: We are arranging for you to return to your Sisterhood, and to seek judgment from them. You may plead your case as you see fit once you arrive. We will not interfere. You may sit,¡± van der Skar told her. As Penitent sat down, she placed a hand on my shoulder, as the aforementioned ¡®not-a-punishment¡¯ was meant to be as punishing for her as it was for me.


    ¡°Inquisitor Callant Blackgar.¡± I took a moment to stand, having heard Penitent¡¯s ¡®not-a-punishment,¡¯ but rose eventually. ¡°You may well be Thaddeus Scayn¡¯s greatest legacy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°That is not necessarily a compliment,¡± Hargro shot back at once. ¡°It is up to you to ensure it becomes one.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± I nodded again.


    ¡°We can only hope you do,¡± van der Skar replied. ¡°Ms. Trantos was not incorrect in praising your talents. But you are not invaluable to the Imperium or the Inquisition, as she suggested. You know this. Your retinue does not appear to. It is important they learn to know it as well as you do. No single man or woman is worth the Imperium. You must ensure your retinue understands the full extent of that statement. Tell me, Blackgar, once and never again: was it your duty that killed Holicar Espirov, or your rage?¡±


    ¡°Can it be both?¡± I asked, and managed to get a chuckle from him. Only him¡ªHargro and Caliman were not as amused.


    ¡°You tell me,¡± van der Skar replied.


    ¡°The Imperium teaches its citizenry that rage is their duty and their most vital resource. So yes, perhaps it can be both,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Ah, but you are not the Imperium¡¯s citizenry,¡± van der Skar noted, shooting me down. ¡°Perhaps I might suggest a third option which I believe you are quite familiar with, but may not recognize its role.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± I welcomed him.


    ¡°I think you killed Holicar Espirov out of love,¡± van der Skar offered. ¡°You have, by your own admission, spent some time musing about the role of love in the Imperium. You have acknowledged that without it we would not be here to have this conversation. You have acknowledged that despite the Inquisition¡¯s best efforts to hide it, love enraptures even the greatest servants of the Imperium. Commissars, Inquisitors, Ecclesiarchs. All find it eventually. Many, in their zeal, deny themselves it. But you, Callant Blackgar, have wielded it. I think you have mistaken your love for hate, as that is as the Imperium would want of its citizenry. But you are not its citizenry, so it is important that you learn better. Hatred is a resource, yes. Love can wield it. Learn to, for it is in doing so that the heretics will have no shield from your blades. The heretics do not love. It is¡ªamong a great many other vile things¡ªwhat separates them from us. They will not understand the extent that love will fight them. They will know your hatred, and will think themselves capable of defending against it. But they cannot defend against your love for the Throne, nor the Throne¡¯s love of you. And that, of course, is the important part. We will not discourage the romance within your retinue. That is on you to police as you see fit. But do remember what you have already discerned¡ªlove for the Throne must be absolute and ultimate. Your love for each other can exist, but it must never exceed that, nor can you allow it to twist into lust, as Ms. Law¡¯s assailants had. Do this, and your excellence within the Inquisition will continue.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lord van der Skar, but I do not imagine my sentencing is merely to receive and contemplate your wisdom,¡± I suggested, bowing to him.


    ¡°Wise as ever, Blackgar. And yet, ever so slightly wrong,¡± van der Skar replied. ¡°Your sentence is forced reflection. We demand you think about your years. Reflect upon your actions. Come to grips with who you are, and toss aside the self-loathing Ms. Trantos identified in you. You will not be imprisoned, but you will be required to be here, on the Dawnshadow, for the next thirty-five years. Well in excess of the sentencing for Ms. Law and Mr. Hager. Use that time well. Purge yourself of your weakness. You¡¯re going to need to.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°The Phaenonites?¡± van der Skar replied. ¡°The traitor Warband? You will hunt them. It is no secret that this is your goal. We will not allow you to do so with your current mental faculties, nor would we risk you igniting the Sector in greater bloodshed. Become more like the unassuming breeze Ms. Trantos described, hm? Wage your war, but quietly and cleanly. You risk a loss you¡ªand, possibly, we¡ªwill not recover from otherwise. We will assist you in some capacity, too. Beyond this station your sentencing will be one of death. We will tell the galaxy that Inquisitor Callant Blackgar was killed for his reckless behavior on Thantalus and Hestia Majoris. To know otherwise will be heresy and that knowledge will be expunged. This will give you room to maneuver. Moreover, your days of borrowing Naval vessels are over. Antonius Sigird had a fleet for his Warrant of Trade. That Warrant may be dissolved, but the fleet isn¡¯t. It¡¯s yours now. Find a suitable captain and reliable personnel for it and deploy your forces with Sigird¡¯s former vessels. Do you understand, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°I do, yes, thank you, sir,¡± I nodded, still dismayed from the loss of Penitent but impressed with the council¡¯s generosity otherwise.


    ¡°Good. Do not disappoint. And Blackgar?¡± I looked to him. ¡°Your suspicion of a Fifth being involved in orchestrating Hestia Majoris is not unwise. Find and kill them.¡±


    ¡°I swear to, sir,¡± I assured him.


    ¡°Good. Then this tribunal is over. Good luck to you in your efforts. May you refine yourself to the Inquisitor that Thaddeus Scayn told us you could be,¡± van der Skar finished, and dissolved the council, leaving from the hall with the other Inquisitor Lords through its rear exit.

 Chapter 28 - Death

    Year 0


    Penitent and I said our goodbyes. I found it harder to do so with her than I had with Thaddeus and Hans. I swore to her I would never forget her, and that I would always believe in a universe in which she would return. She assured me that if there was a means to attain such a fate, and if the Emperor¡¯s benevolence allowed for it, she would do so.


    She left the Ixaniad Sector, and the Segmentum Obscurus altogether. Her pilgrimage would take her along the Galactic South, through the Holy Segmentum Solar to the Segmentum Tempestus. It was there that Ophelia VII lied¡ªthe Cardinal World of the Convent Sanctorum of the Adepta Sororitas. Within the Convent Sanctorum, she belonged to the Order of the Valorous Heart, which was perfectly fitting of her character.


    I knew the likelihood I would ever see her again was minimal. The most likely outcome of her journey was that she would remain a Sister Repentia and be thrown into the meatgrinders of unwinnable battles on the front lines, atoning for her ¡®sins¡¯ in the most ultimate way possible. Our goodbyes, then, were goodbye.


    Mirena submitted into Inquisitorial conviction willingly, with the accepted condition that she be allowed discretionary visits from myself and Castecael. I worked with the warden of the prisons on the Dawnshadow to ensure that she be treated well. Silas, likewise, did as instructed, leaving my immediate charge to reaffirm his training as a Tempestus Scion. I so greatly sympathized with them both, and did not want them to change; that they would emerge as someone other than they were was my greatest fear.


    I finally received a replacement arm from the Inquisition, applied to me by Castecael. I suspected, but could not prove, that they were holding the arm out on me in case their trial decided to terminate my service. Did not want to waste resources, after all. After I had adapted to the arm, I showed it to Varnus and asked him what he thought. In his words, he found it ¡°84.3% incapable,¡± and I will leave the interpretation of that as an exercise for the reader. Regardless of what that incapability implied, the outcome was that Varnus decided to requisition resources for a replacement of his design. He was, at the very least, happy I had survived my ¡®dimwitted peers,¡¯ though enthusiasm did not accompany that happiness. I did not expect it would have.


    I asked Luther if he wanted me to task Varnus with enabling him to return to Harakon. Luther declined, saying if he needed to call a place home, he would go to Mordian. I understood, and left it at that.


    When all was said and done, I sat in my room on the Dawnshadow and looked out upon the stars of the universe.


    I was alone, again.


    Year 1


    I made it a habit to visit Mirena every three months. Castecael, as I understood it, visited bi-weekly. But Mirena appreciated my visits all the same. She joked. She laughed. We laughed. She lamented that her cell did not have a means for her to do pull-ups, as her Naval cell did. I assured her I would get that remedied. She also lamented that the food was far worse than she had grown used to in my service. I could not address that.


    We wept for the state of things.


    Years 2-6


    I observed a marked decline in Mirena¡¯s attitude over the years. Of course, this was not unexpected. Slowly, gradually, she regressed to who she had been in her Naval cell. The smiles began to fade, the laughs began to hollow. I did not intend to bring this up with her, but she eventually noticed I had something I was not saying to her. So we discussed it, though there was not much to say that was not abundantly obvious.


    ¡°Does your position anger you?¡± she asked me.


    ¡°My position?¡±


    ¡°Of being utterly untouchable. Unassailable. Here I am, in prison, for having jokingly struck you as a comrade in arms. I know you disagree with the sentence and my situation, but what about yours?¡± she clarified.


    ¡°I do not relish violence, even within playful banter. But yes, the shields of sanctity the Inquisition insists I wield do displease me. Mirena, in my lifetime, I will not see you imprisoned again. Ever. For anything.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t make promises you cannot keep. It may not be up to you.¡±


    ¡°My lifetime is up to me. I possess the agency to wield it as I will.¡±


    Year 9


    Cogs were beginning to turn. The reduced resources¡ªpeople¡ªavailable to me over the last decade inhibited my ability to grow and expand my influence, but it did not stop it. Zha, Luther, Xavier, Castecael, and Massino Varnus were slowly but surely able to begin laying the groundwork for my next few operations. Mirena and Silas returning to the fold, however, would be vital pieces to the puzzle of the expansion of my plans. To some extent, I think that is what the tribunal wanted for me in providing their sentencing¡ªin retraining Mirena and Silas, and in having them then train recruits and their peers for similar tasks, Mirena and Silas would begin an upbringing of quality candidates for my purposes.


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    Moreover, I had the budding beginning of a complex idea, within which Mirena¡¯s role would be vital. Awaiting her release from incarceration was as though waiting for a star to burn out; every day and week was painfully unchanging.


    And, yet, sometimes things happen faster than you are ready for.


    Year 10


    I knew the day well. The day that Mirena and Silas were released from incarceration and the Scola Progenium, respectively. What I did not know was how soon I would see them. I did not expect to see Silas for some time, being as he needed to travel from the Progenium back to the Dawnshadow. That journey may have taken him a handful of weeks. Mirena I did not expect to see immediately, as I anticipated she would spend much of her time with Castecael.


    What I did not anticipate was the knock at my door that came near the middle of the night. Upon rising to answer it personally, I was all but tackled into my room by a notably-sweaty Mirena Law, who said nothing before embracing me in perhaps the tightest hug of my life. I returned it as soon as my initial confusion and shock subsided, and though I found her to generally smell far worse than even Abseradon had¡ªunwashed and clearly having been exercising for some time¡ªI nevertheless buried my face against her body, nestling my head between hers and her left shoulder. I found, in holding her, that I was doing so off the ground, she having very literally leapt upon me. I did not mind.


    We held each other close for an unknowable length of time, then, before she finally pulled our faces before one another. When she did so, she then latched her lips to mine, holding my head in her hands. For that, I saw the need to sit upon my bed, with her still resting on my lap, while our kiss continued. When it eventually ended, I found I had fallen onto my back, in the familiar position of having her rest atop me. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you,¡± she whispered to me then.


    ¡°I can tell,¡± I panted, chuckling. ¡°You finally gave me that one kind of hug you were waiting for,¡± I noted. She nodded and giggled to herself, then briefly pecked my lips again. When next she lifted her lips from mine and pulled ever so slightly away from me, I at last got a better look at her form. That, then, made me frown. ¡°Mirena, what¡ªhow¡ªwho¡ª?¡± I started, unable to articulate the question.


    She nodded, understanding nevertheless, and held her now-augmetic right hand between us. ¡°Parting gift from my lovely colleagues in prison,¡± she explained.


    ¡°Give me a name,¡± I stammered, rage beginning to boil through my veins.


    She shook her head. ¡°Worthless to now. Your Inquisitor buddies already executed them for it. Ruthlessly so, I may add.¡±


    ¡°They knew?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°And they didn¡¯t inform me of your condition?¡± She nodded again. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, probably because they knew you¡¯d slaughter half the prison population for it,¡± she shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Cal. Well, it¡¯s not fine, but it¡¯s over now. Justice is served, in some way. And now I have a hand that matches yours,¡± she smiled, tapping her augmetic against mine.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­infuriated,¡± I sighed, closing my eyes and trying to come to grips with the news. ¡°Will it interfere with your ability to fly? I don¡¯t care¡ªyou¡¯re irreplaceable in that position¡ªI just want to know.¡±


    ¡°It will take some getting used to. Long-term, I think not,¡± she shrugged.


    ¡°I could have Varnus provide you with something more to your liking, if you so desire,¡± I offered. ¡°He did for me,¡± I suggested, and though the augmentations Varnus had made to my arm were not visible then, I nevertheless waved my arm to and fro in mock demonstration.


    ¡°I may take you up on that. I hear there are augmetic devices specifically for piloting air and spacecraft. I¡¯ll have to do some shopping around,¡± she smiled, and then heaved out a heavy, hot breath upon my face. It was not a sigh. Though I had only felt it a few times in the past, I knew immediately what it was.


    ¡°You¡¯re aroused.¡±


    ¡°Duh.¡±


    I was taken aback from her candor, but shook my head. ¡°I won¡¯t tell you how to live your life, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°But shouldn¡¯t I be aroused with Castecael?¡± she suggested. I nodded. ¡°Yeah. I was. Too much so, apparently. Ten years abstinence from the good life will do that, I suppose. But yeah, Cast and I¡­have had a very engaging night. I, however, seem to possess too much energy.¡± Well, that accounted for the ¡®exercise¡¯ that resulted in her current sweat.


    ¡°So you came here,¡± I asserted.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit rude, I admit.¡±


    ¡°More than a bit.¡±


    ¡°If you ask me to leave, I will leave,¡± she assured me.


    I paused for a moment, staring into the glimmer of her silver eyes. I had, in periods of her anger, seen them as vicious daggers. But now I saw only the welcoming glow of a moonlit evening in her gaze. ¡°And if I don¡¯t think I could ever ask you to leave?¡± I admitted.


    She smiled coyly, and leaned her face just barely over mine, so close that the odd movement of a simple breath made our lips touch moment to moment. ¡°Well, I have to fall asleep somehow, tonight,¡± she whispered, then latched her lips to mine once more.


    A particularly lengthy night followed.


    The passion, no, the emotion of the night resonated with my psychic self. In the ebb and flow of our shared existence, I felt Mirena in ways that transcended the physical. There was an ever-present worry that I would harm her in the process. But I never got the sense that such a thing would happen, and indeed it did not.


    But what did happen, in the lucidity that arrived at the end of our activity, was a glimmer of the utter span of my time in the universe. My life, even that which I had not yet lived, flashed before my eyes. I remembered none of it, save for the end, and one may suggest that it was entirely a dream altogether, for sleep did follow for both Mirena and myself. But I do not dream. I have visions, psychically induced, but I do not dream.


    I know not of what I saw, or how I saw it. I believe the glimpse of my unrecallable future was induced from the psychically emotional release of the evening, which in some way kickstarted a divinatory engine within my mind. I have not been able to start that engine again since then. But I do remember the end of my life.


    In the end, I am obliterated.


    When I awoke in the morning, Mirena was sprawled across me, still sleeping. I held her in my arms, and gently ran a hand through her hair¡ªwhich had grown out in her imprisonment, and had not yet been shaved. She slept for maybe half an hour longer before revealing her shining silver eyes to me once more. She looked up at me, passed a hand over my chest before kissing it, and then asked, ¡°Are you mad?¡±


    ¡°It would be rather hard to me, frankly,¡± I shook my head. She giggled and stuck her tongue out at me. ¡°Having said that, I don¡¯t think we should do that again.¡±


    ¡°Ouch, that bad, huh?¡± she frowned, and sat up on my gut.


    ¡°Quite the opposite. But that¡¯s the point. You are tempting enough as it is. We¡ªI¡ªshouldn¡¯t risk even more temptation still,¡± I explained.


    ¡°We,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°We do work, don¡¯t we?¡± I smiled. She nodded again. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, my door is always open to you. You¡¯re welcome here anytime. You can spend the night here whenever you wish. But I believe it¡¯s best if we not go that far again.¡±


    ¡°Pity,¡± she winked to me. ¡°Wanna grab a bite to eat?¡±


    We did so, and in the morning that followed, I never once revealed my plans of the future to her or told her of my vision.

 Chapter 29 - Rebirth

    Year 20


    As I had done for her in prison, Mirena came to visit me every three months. We spent a night together. We laid together, ate together, had fun together. We never had sex again, much to our mutual disappointment. I never had another vision, and I never told anyone of my first one.


    A few weeks after the one-night-stand between myself and Mirena, Silas arrived back at the Dawnshadow, as I expected. Unlike Mirena, he was physically unharmed. Like myself, when he learned of Mirena¡¯s hand, he wanted blood. He, like me, would need to be satisfied with wanting that forever. He resumed his role as, in many regards, my right-hand-man, though the line had been blurred in the past between he and Hans. With Hans no longer present, there were no remaining contenders for the title.


    I told Silas of my plans to make Zha my Interrogator. He thought it was a good idea. I told him the offer of being an Interrogator could also extend to him. ¡°Sir,¡± he replied. ¡°Respectfully, I want nothing to do with the Inquisition¡¯s formalities. Your orders, and yours alone, are all I care for. If you want me to get something out of someone, I will. If you want me to shoot someone, or a lot of someones, I will. But do not ask for me to associate with your peers, please.¡±


    A great relief to me. His return to the Schola Progenium had not changed Silas¡¯s core character. The Emperor protects.


    As the years rolled on, progress began to pick up the pace. Soon, I would be returning to the hunt of heresy. Decades of sitting on my hands would end at last. As the measure of my operation began to form, I petitioned Halloid van der Skar to vacate my quarters aboard the Dawnshadow and instead occupy a vessel I had ¡®inherited¡¯ from Antonius Sigird. van der Skar agreed, on the acceptable condition that the vessel be always kept in view of the Dawnshadow.


    Two decades after the tribunal had initiated our sentencing, I took my first steps on my new home: Coldbreed. It was an Exorcist-class Grand Cruiser; an outdated model whose overall development line was inherently outdated too. Grand Cruisers were no longer in production, replaced by Battle Cruisers in Naval forces. Grand Cruisers, such as Coldbreed, did not feature the frontal bulkhead that modern Battle Cruisers possessed, but were still formidable and viable weapons platforms all the same. The Exorcist-class in particular specialized in long range patrols, which was exactly what I wanted it for. I planned to disconnect myself from my name, to meet my foes in the shadows first, facing them only in ending them. From the deck of a seven-kilometer warship, I vowed to be the unassuming breeze Zha Trantos had once described of some of my peers.


    That I lacked the permission to take the Coldbreed anywhere was fitting, as I was without the requisite crew for any journey at all. Attaining that, as well as the crew for the other vessels of Sigird¡¯s fleet, was part of the next step of my plans. One that I would want Mirena to help me solve.


    ***


    ¡°Well, this is definitely more than a closet,¡± Mirena noted upon arriving on the bridge of the Coldbreed for the first time. Only a few servitors and servoskulls operated the minimal equipment to keep the vessel operational; for the most part, we were utterly alone, and I ordered such servitors away from us for the time being.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to move in. You¡¯ve finished with the entirety of your sentencing by now, yes?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I have,¡± she nodded, and at last stepped up to me for another hug and kiss. Such was a fate we were not appearing to grow out from. But she was, at least, far tamer about it than she had been. ¡°May Castecael join us?¡± she asked with a giggle.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I grinned, holding her by her waist while her hands crept over my shoulders. Had I the music to play, we may have danced. The thought, then, of music playing through the ship¡¯s halls reminded me of Sigird. It would take some time to recognize my vessels as mine, now, and not his, and to expunge his haunting of my memories. In the immediate, to help escape from my trauma, I kissed Mirena again. She did not seem to mind. ¡°This is a business call, by the way,¡± I reminded herself, and myself, after that kiss.


    ¡°Does it have to be?¡± she winked. ¡°Alas, the answer with you is yes, isn¡¯t it? So, Cal, what¡¯s your enterprising business up to these days?¡±


    ¡°The usual. Killing heretics. Want in?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s by your side, yes,¡± she shrugged. She, then, seemed to recognize our position as being readied for a dance, and began swaying side to side, trying to tug me along with her. I went along with our soundless ballet.


    ¡°I think I could keep you by my side, yes, but I was more certain I would keep you by Castecael¡¯s,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°What do you mean think? What are you planning for the team?¡± she asked, puzzled, and worried to a small degree. I tilted my head back, toward a board I had been jotting some notes down on. She, then, swayed us on over to it. Upon arrival, she spun out of my grasp and turned to face the board, though she took my hands in hers to then lay them upon her belly while she leaned back against me. I held her still as she looked my schemes over, she still swaying to and fro. ¡°You wish to have us operate independently,¡± she surmised.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°To an extent, yes,¡± I nodded, though she would not have seen the nod. ¡°Nodes are operatives. The connections between nodes describe what I assume are likely interactions between operatives which, therefore, should be accounted for and optimized. This is an Inquisitorial Cell, of presently a single Inquisitor¡ªme¡ªwith resources applied to a singular task,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Command-1¡ªI assume that¡¯s you,¡± she suggested. I muttered a confirmation. ¡°Med-1 is Castecael. Intel-1¡­Zha?¡± I muttered another confirmation. She was following along well. ¡°Psyk-1 is Xavier, of course. Strike-1 is Silas. I¡¯m¡­Logi-1?¡± she asked.


    ¡°If you accept the role, of course,¡± I offered. ¡°You¡¯re free to decline it and operate within the Command structure too. But I¡¯d really appreciate it if you headed up my logistics operations. Those would be closely intertwined with medicae support, and with Command. Oh, and Strike-1 is Luther. Silas is Tactical-1.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the managerial sort, Cal, I like fast ships and big guns,¡± she laughed.


    ¡°Dangerous though they are, you could still fly them. I¡¯d prefer the group directors serve in roles of unassuming importance to better disguise themselves,¡± I answered.


    ¡°OK, I¡¯ll think on it. But what¡¯s the 1¡¯s all about? Where are the 2¡¯s?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Still debating on some of the exact terminology. Current line of reasoning is that the 1¡¯s of an operational unit are that unit¡¯s directors. The 2¡¯s are the next in line, the 3¡¯s next after them, and so forth. Then for subgroups, any individual could recruit additional members to their task. A member might identify as being Command-1-4, being the fourth recruit to answer to Command-1, myself. Command-1-4-5 would be the fifth member that answers to the leadership of Command-1-4. And so forth. I¡¯m also looking for a Comms director and a Covert director. If you feel you¡¯d rather head those up,¡± I suggested with a shrug.


    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine they¡¯d be as close to Med-1,¡± Mirena suggested.


    ¡°Probably not,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Thoughts?¡±


    ¡°Well, other than still being undecided on the role I want to play, I think I should have visited you more often. Clearly, you¡¯ve had too much time on your hands,¡± she giggled.


    I laughed, then sighed. ¡°Oh, if only you knew, Mirena.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re talking to the ex-convict. I know,¡± she assured me. ¡°Cal, one of the first things they teach you in the Navis Imperialis and, I assume, the Astra Militarum, is the importance of a banner. Of a name. Do you have one in mind?¡±


    ¡°I have not given it a fair thought, no,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°May I suggest one, then?¡±


    ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°The 9<sup>th</sup> and Final,¡± Mirena suggested.


    We stood in silence for a long while then. I rested my head against hers but otherwise looked over my board, of the nodes who represented my closest allies. My closest friends. After several minutes of considering the life of mine that placed those friends of mine onto that board, into what would undoubtedly be harm¡¯s way, I squeezed at Mirena tightly. ¡°Yes. I think that¡¯s a good idea, Mirena. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Cal.¡±


    Year 29


    Mirena and Castecael did move in aboard the Coldbreed. So, too, did everyone else, though Silas and his gang had more active recruitment to partake in. Mirena did too, though she was pretty good at working remotely, which was a big plus in the field of logistical support. A role which, ultimately, she chose to accept, on the condition that she and I not only continue to share a drink after a successful operation, but that she also would then owe me a flight on a world of her choosing likewise. I was happy to agree. The Bird moved in to the Coldbreed too. Things began to fall into place, I thought.


    I truly had no idea what that meant.


    In addition to needing to keep the Coldbreed close to Dawnshadow, I was also required to make regular reports of my continued existence to van der Skar. I usually did not receive responses to these reports, which I felt was probably a good thing. However, on the fifth month of the 29<sup>th</sup> year of my sentence, after making the usual report, I received this response:


    +++++++++++++++++TRANSMITTED: Quintus


    +++++++++++++++++RECEIVED: Coldbreed


    +++++++++++++++++DATE: 3 564 842.M41


    +++++++++++++++++REF: IQST/236470931618711591279947731/CB


    +++++++++++++++++AUTHOR: HvdS


    +++++++++++++++++SUBJECT: Presence Requested


    >>BEGIN TRANSMISSION<<


    >>PROCESSING<<


    >>DOWNLOAD COMPLETE<<


    May this message find you well, Inquisitor Blackgar. Your presence is formally requested aboard the Dawnshadow once more.


    Return at once.


    The Emperor Protects.


    >>END CODED MESSAGE<<


    >>TRANSMISSION TERMINATED<<


    Not one to ignore a properly-signed message from my superior, I informed my crew that I would need to make the short journey back to the Dawnshadow. Mirena volunteered to fly me there, and I took her up on that offer. For old time¡¯s sake, we took the Bird, which was hardly a typical transport craft, but it was spaceworthy, and it had fulfilled the role in the past. Mirena remained with the Bird once we had docked, and I proceeded on my own to van der Skar¡¯s office.


    I did not have to wait long for admittance. In addition to van der Skar, three tall figures in black power armor stood waiting for me. One was far taller than the others. ¡°Ah, Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± van der Skar greeted me. ¡°Good to see you in the flesh once more. I trust your sentencing carries on well, even aboard your latest residence?¡±


    I had, until then, been staring at the tallest figure in the room. They, too, stared silently at me through two red slits for their eyes, a streak of white racing down the center of their Sabbat Pattern Helm. I needed a moment to gather my wits to turn to face van der Skar, who was possessed of a knowing grin. ¡°Yes, sir, it does,¡± I confirmed for him.


    ¡°You appear a bit shaken. I can only imagine as to why,¡± he toyed with me, still smiling. ¡°You have new oversight. Allow me to introduce you to Sister Marcia Kane, Sister Emilia Catanz, and Sister Superior Lucene Flint,¡± he said, gesturing to the Sisters of Battle in the room. ¡°For the next six years, they will answer to me and report on your continued sanctity aboard the Coldbreed. After that period of time, when your sentence concludes, their charge falls to you.¡±


    ¡°Sisters,¡± I greeted them, bowing slightly.


    ¡°Cal,¡± Lucene, the tallest of them, replied with a warm nod.

 Afterword

    In the Grim Darkness of the 41<sup>st</sup> Millennium, there is only Lore.


    I originally wrote this story for my father in November of 2022 as a one-off thing to help expand his horizons into the Warhammer 40k universe. He had just been inducted by, and fallen in love with, Dan Abnett¡¯s extended Eisenhorn series, so I wanted to try to aim for something a bit similar while also pushing outward a bit into more esoteric stuff that the Inquisition may deal with. I wanted to include and focus on various sects and facets of the Imperium and its enemies. But most importantly, I wanted a story that was not too outlandish, as many are in the 40k-verse. The protagonists and foes of this tale are¡ªmostly¡ªhuman, and that is very intentional. This may be a let down to many longtime fans of 40k, as the Imperium of Mankind is well over-represented in the Black Library and many readers are longing for a good work of Xenos material. Unfortunately, I decided that, for my father, mankind would be the most relatable, either as a villainous heretic or as a dogmatic worshipper of the Throne.


    This tale takes place in the Ixaniad Sector, a part of the Segmentum Obscurus on the northwestern edge of the 40k galaxy. Ixaniad is, lorewise, a real place in 40k¡ªhowever, not much has been recorded as happening there. This, I figured, was great for me! It was prime real estate to do whatever I wanted in the Sector without needing to worry about the goings-on of the wider universe and how my tale might affect it. I can reference histories and current events throughout the galaxy (there are a few Eisenhorn/Ravenor references; do you think you spotted them all?) but the galaxy need not reflect the events of this tale. And that, also, speaks to the grimdarkness of it all¡ªfor as bombastic and extreme as things may get in this story, none of it matters or will ever have any impact on the rest of the universe. That is the case with most 40k stories, if you have not indulged too much before this¡ªrarely do events occur that actually shift the tide of the universe at large.


    One thing that has bothered me about sharing this with what may be a wider and more-knowledgeable audience has been the inevitability of powerscalers getting their hands on my work and finding fault with it. There are a couple ¡®matchups¡¯ in here for which the results I have not quite convinced myself on the plausibility of. But I take solace in the fact that, ultimately, 40k is a universe for ¡°your guys.¡± That has always been the motto of 40k sales and model collectors; it is a place for ¡°your guys¡± to shine and prove themselves exceptional, or for ¡°your guys¡± to die deaths that may barely matter even to you. The victor of any battle in 40k lore is always decided not by its combatants, but by its architectural author.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Penance is the first volume I intend for this tale; I am debating writing seven or eight volumes in total. The debate is whether to write the eighth, as I have not convinced myself I want to, but seven should at least be on the horizon. The second volume, the immediate sequel to Penance, is soon to follow. It is mostly done and just needs some looking-over/beta reading before being shared publicly. I look forward to you getting your hands (or, rather, eyes) on it.


    The Penance printed for my father''s hands is unfortunately substantially different from the one that wound up here. My father''s copy features an appendix, of sorts, of annotated pictures describing places and objects and items of the 40k-verse mentioned in the story. This appendix describes the Tempestus Scions and Sisters Repentia and the Phaenonites, things which veterans of the -verse are probably tangentially familiar with at best, and newcomers would have no hopes of understanding at first glance. It''s easy to gleam "Phaenonites bad!" from this story, but it is harder to answer "OK, but why?" There is a why, in the history of the 40k-verse, and I offered explanation as such for my father. But as I do not own the rights to some of the images used in that printout, accredited though they were, I did not feel compelled to share them online in a work of my own. This appendix, therefore, is omitted here. Perhaps, in the future, I will accompany new chapters with author''s notes describing such finer details as they come, and I may go back to existing chapters to do the same. We shall see.


    ***


    I will admit I have not been fully convinced of Royal Road as the right platform for this story. I do feel a bit alone in my craft here, a bit niche, writing a novelistic OC fanfic for a fandom that is only just barely beginning to become more mainstream. (Thank you Henry Cavill.) This, amidst a sea of LitRPGs and reader-driven works. Bit of a spoiler: you won¡¯t see a poll for the plot of this story. It is all entirely decided and set in stone, from now until what may take years to write and publish.


    The reason I share this information with you is not to boast, but to ask you to let me know if you¡¯ve come this far and crave more. You, as a loyal Royal Road reader, I write this Afterword for you. I wrote this story for my father, yes, but I have shared it for the purposes of entertaining you. And if I have managed to entertain you, I would appreciate you telling me so. If I am not entertaining here on Royal Road, if my fears that this niche is not for this site are true, I may look to do so elsewhere. That, then, is the one poll that matters for this story¡¯s publication. If there are readers, reviews, and comments, this story will continue to see updates here on Royal Road. If there are not, the story will be written all the same, but it may not be found here in its entirety.


    So, in short, let me know what you think. I do adore a good critique, positive or negative.


    All the best, and with the second volume, Absolution, soon to follow,


    Ceno

 Chapter 30 - Cataclysm

    +++++++++++++++++TRANSMITTED: Echoshroud


    +++++++++++++++++RECEIVED: Coldbreed


    +++++++++++++++++DATE: 3 101 892.M41


    +++++++++++++++++REF: Command-1


    +++++++++++++++++AUTHOR: Tactical-1


    +++++++++++++++++SUBJECT: FW: Catastrophic Operations Failure, See Datastream


    >>BEGIN TRANSMISSION<<


    >>PROCESSING<<


    >>DOWNLOAD COMPLETE<<


    Greetings, Command. I hope you are well.


    Please see attached datastream, sent to me by Psyk-1.


    I know not of what this is. Please advise.


    May the Emperor protect you always.


    >>END CODED MESSAGE<<


    >>BEGIN CODED DATASTREAM RELAY<<


    Date: 3 084 892.M41


    Lone combat vessel, Ebon Shrike, (ES) rests over green-colored world. ([Annotation: World identified as Amnes Minoris; Developing World. Population: 1,303,449,872])


    ES sits at rest for six (6) standard hours with no astropathic communication.


    Warp field opens near ES. Lone combat vessel Lord Orthus (LO) emerges. Warp field closes. ES hails LO. Two-way communication is established. Communication lasts for 3.7 minutes before concluding. ([Annotation: communication log available for parsing in subfile alpha.])


    A shuttle craft leaves LO for ES. Journey takes 8.1 minutes. Docking proceeds naturally. End satellite reference. Splice to next datastream. Begin recording EbonShrike.41.892.084.11. Pict stream and audio streaming available; commencing:


    Seven operatives dismount from the shuttle craft, a great mechanical vessel hovering behind them. Servitors tend to the vessel at all times. It is a large, cylindrical vat implanted in a mobile hover platform. Three of the operatives are dressed in tight, refined Inquisitorial uniforms, each wielding a staff whose butt clanks against the metal floors of the hangar, and whose head is that of the Imperialis. The other four men are dressed more lightly and casually, though could pass for an Inquisitor¡¯s retinue.


    Welcoming these seven operatives are the commanding officers of ES, including [Strike-1]. [Strike-1] shakes [Psyk-1¡¯s] hand. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, my friend,¡± [Strike-1] says.


    ¡°Too long. Glad to see you¡¯re still on your feet. Augmetic holding up well?¡± [Psyk-1] asks. The pair disembark from the hangar, their entourage following in pursuit. The LO and ES operatives mingle cohesively, all defending the large vessel that hovers behind their leaders.


    ¡°It is, yeah. As though [Med-1] would ever fail us,¡± [Strike-1] laughs. ¡°Especially not when given the resources that our friend in Command has.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it. Have you seen them recently?¡±


    ¡°[Med-1] or Command?¡±


    ¡°Either, I suppose,¡± [Psyk-1] shrugs.


    ¡°Unfortunately not. Too long in the field,¡± [Strike-1] frowns.


    ¡°I can relate,¡± [Psyk-1] nods in acknowledgement.


    ¡°Yeah, well, that¡¯s why we¡¯re here today, eh?¡±


    ¡°Speaking of which, what¡¯d you find?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we didn¡¯t find it, we¡¯re just responding to it. Intel found it. Rather, it found [Intel-3-2]. Whole squad of them got wiped out,¡± [Strike-1] frowned and sighed. ¡°Just in here,¡± he added, and lead the group into a large, unlit room. When the vessel entered the room, servitors began hooking up some of the vessel¡¯s piping to proper outlets along the walls, while in the meantime, dim blue lights revealed a great, empty landscape of further steel. The LO and ES operatives spread out along the back wall of the room, giving the vessel space while standing relatively defensively around it, ready to intervene if needed. The more casual-looking operatives of LO kept the most distance from the vessel.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    +Ahh, I can breathe again.+ Hummed a disembodied voice that emerged on visible ripples of condensed air pockets around the vessel.


    ¡°Sorry about that, but you know procedure, Cor,¡± [Psyk-1] apologized, gesturing to the more-casually-dressed operatives standing away from the vessel. As he spoke, great steel walls of the vessel¡¯s cylinder receded, revealing a woman suspended in light blue fluid, bionics plugging her in to the vessel. Frost began to creep upon the walls of the vessel, and the room chilled considerably, the breaths of all personnel becoming visible.


    +Yes, I understand, [Psyk-1]. The nulls serve the Great Throne as I do. How may I assist today?+ the woman asked.


    ¡°[Strike-1]?¡± [Psyk-1] asked, gesturing for [Strike-1] to step forth. He did so.


    ¡°Greetings, operative. An outpost belonging to Intel team Gammaforth has been destroyed down below, on Amnes Minoris. We would like you to produce a survey of the scene remotely,¡± [Strike-1] explained. ¡°The coordinates are¡ª¡±


    +I see the coordinates in your head. And I see the scene on the world. Stand aside for visual projection.+ the woman replied. [Strike-1] got out of the way. A few moments later, a great many lights appeared out of the nothingness in the center of the room, shimmering and sparking, stretching out to gradually, shakily form the outpost that had once belonged to the Gammaforth team. It was enflamed.


    ¡°Is this live?¡± [Strike-1] asked. ¡°It can¡¯t be live. Known intel suggests the structure collapsed after burning for a few hours.¡±


    +This is as I see it.+


    ¡°And you can see through time?¡± [Strike-1] asked, in overt disbelief.


    +Not to my knowledge.+


    ¡°Well, you sure seem to¡ªhey, who is that?¡±


    +I see no one.+ As the woman replied, a man in copper-colored armor strolled out of the flames, a dual-Bolt weapon in one hand and a brass claw in another. The man¡¯s face could not be seen, obscured behind a helmet of twinned horns, one of which was slightly chipped.


    ¡°Look away from him!¡± [Psyk-1] exclaimed, cowering at the sight of the man. The other operatives did the same, for even at a glance, they saw the unholy imagery carved into the man¡¯s helmet. Sigils and signs of a world that did not bask in the Imperium¡¯s light.


    +There is no one there.+


    ¡°You can¡¯t see him, Cor?¡± [Psyk-1] asked, stunned.


    +There is no one there.+


    The unknown figure strolled up about halfway between the psychic projection and the vessel creating it. It looked around the room in silence, its gaze pausing on both [Strike-1] and [Psyk-1] before settling on the vessel ahead.


    ¡°Terminate this projection at once!¡± [Psyk-1] demanded. Shortly thereafter, the structure, flames included, vanished.


    The man did not.


    ¡°Strike-1 to bridge, all units on alert! Quarantine my position, anomalous Warp contact!¡± [Strike-1] shouted into his vox while raising his weapons to the man. Everyone else in the room did the same.


    ¡°Identify yourself!¡± [Psyk-1] roared, lightning sparking from his lips.


    +There is no one there.+ the woman in the vessel assured them, while in the meantime, the man slowly raised the dual-Bolt-wielding arm toward the vessel.


    ¡°Cor, you¡¯re not safe, raise your shields!¡± [Psyk-1] ordered.


    ¡°Frig this,¡± [Strike-1] hissed, and shot a trio of rounds toward the man. They phased through him completely, a beam of red lasfire sailing across the room and singing a faraway wall. At that point, the man¡¯s arm had raised completely. Seeing where things were going, and knowing he was not a psyker and therefore was not equipped to defuse the situation, [Strike-1] threw himself between the man and the vessel.


    +There is no on¡ª+


    The man fired. A Bolt passed harmlessly through [Strike-1]¡¯s head, mental imagery unaffecting the Harakoni. It sailed clean through the hardened glass of the vessel¡¯s tank, and slid into the woman¡¯s torso with no entry wound. A great psychic THUMP burst out from the vessel, knocking many in the room to the ground, and blood smashed out of the woman¡¯s eyes, ears, and nostrils.


    ¡°Coraline!¡± [Psyk-1] shouted, dismayed, and rocked the room with lightning sent for the man. It, too, phased through him. Even as Coraline, Beta-grade Psyker of the Psyk subgroup, died, the man remained, a permanent, immaterial fixture to the scene.


    It turned and looked at [Psyk-1]. +Produce Callant Blackgar for deconstruction.+ Its voice pierced, like the ring of tinnitus. Then, at last, it faded away, blood continuing to pump out of Coraline¡¯s body into her protective vessel, with the vessel itself remaining completely unharmed.


    ¡°We need [Tactical-1],¡± [Strike-1] panted, unaware of how to proceed.


    ¡°We need Command,¡± [Psyk-1] seethed in reply, lightning still dancing on his lips. ¡°That¡¯s twice now we¡¯ve been bested and we don¡¯t even know what we¡¯re frigging up against!¡±


    End of pict stream and audio stream.


    End recording EbonShrike.41.892.084.11.


    >>END CODED DATASTREAM RELAY<<


    >>TRANSMISSION TERMINATED<<


    <hr>


    +++++++++++++++++TRANSMITTED: Coldbreed


    +++++++++++++++++RECEIVED: Echoshroud


    +++++++++++++++++DATE: 3 103 892.M41


    +++++++++++++++++REF: Tactical-1


    +++++++++++++++++AUTHOR: Command-1


    +++++++++++++++++SUBJECT: RE: FW: Catastrophic Operations Failure, See Datastream


    >>BEGIN TRANSMISSION<<


    >>PROCESSING<<


    >>DOWNLOAD COMPLETE<<


    Greetings, Tactical-1. I am well, thank you. It is hard not to be with Command-2.


    I have consulted Tech-1 on what you have shown me.


    Recommend immediate suspension of all Tactical, Strike, and Psyk teams, and the recall of active units thereof. Duration: 90 Terran Days, or until otherwise noted by Command substructure.


    Our divine shadow has been pierced by the vile glare of our foe. We are found.


    War is soon. Logi-1 and Med-1 will spin your teams up to optimal readiness as required.


    The Emperor protects.


    >>END CODED MESSAGE<<


    >>TRANSMISSION TERMINATED<<

 Chapter 31 - Subterfuge

    The twinned suns¡ªone red, one blue¡ªloomed over the open sky of Canicus IX, beaming down upon the dusty world for hours on end. The heat was all but unbearable for Forward Detachment Theta, who kept their eyes pointed down to the brown rock and dust at their feet, lest they be blinded by the glare of the horizon. Most had shed their fatigues to try to stave off heat stroke, which was a reprehensible choice were their superiors around. Luckily for FD Theta, they could see the way to headquarters just fine, and no such officers seemed to be making the approach toward them anytime soon.


    Jack Harr sat in the half-cover provided by one of their two autocannon installations, shirt off and wrapped around his head. ¡°Let my hand wipe the grime from your perfect form,¡± he murmured to himself, passing a cloth over his lasgun. ¡°May you purify with your bolts of light.¡±


    A shadow overtook Harr, partially obscuring his head from the view of the twinned suns. ¡°A battle prayer? Didn¡¯t think you were that devout, Jack.¡± Harr looked up and squinted, a glimmer of the sunbeams still shining past his new guest. Bliss Carmichael was standing over him, still dressed in her full combat fatigues, the only one of their squad to be doing so. Harr understood why; she was a vision of a woman, and did not want to distract the others of her squad from their duties by being so revealing. This was a consideration that the other women of their squad¡ªPliskoska and Starkene¡ªwere not so thoughtful or careful about.


    ¡°Litany of Cleanliness,¡± Harr nodded to her, still squinting. ¡°And it¡¯s not about being devout¡ªnot that I¡¯m not, by the way. It¡¯s just good practice to keep one¡¯s armaments and attire in good condition.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t disagree. But we haven¡¯t exactly seen enough action for them not to be in good condition, don¡¯t you think?¡± Carmichael offered.


    ¡°In these conditions, with the heat and the dust and the sand, I disagree. Environmental effects are just as capable of inflicting wear and tear on a weapon as anything else. When was the last time you cleaned yours?¡± Harr replied.


    Carmichael thought for a moment and then shrugged. ¡°A week or two, probably.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s no good at all. Sit with me, Bliss,¡± Harr suggested, scooching aside, slightly further into the sunlight, to make some shady room for Carmichael to join him. She grinned, chuckled, then shrugged and did so, bringing her autogun before her and resting it in her lap. They cleaned their arms together for a time, though Carmichael did not recant the Litany Harr had. Harr ran through it in his head, silently, for her instead. ¡°Aren¡¯t you hot?¡± Harr asked her after a few minutes together.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Carmichael asked, blurting out a laugh.


    ¡°Oh, I mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°From the heat?¡± she asked, laughing. Harr nodded sheepishly, grinning. ¡°Of course. But that¡¯s the gig. I like to think I¡¯m hot in the other way, too, but I assume you don¡¯t need to ask about that,¡± she winked to him.


    ¡°I surely wouldn¡¯t,¡± he chuckled.


    Carmichael laughed a bit more, then leaned further back into the shade provided by the autocannon and stretched her arms over her head and yawned, partially exhausted from the heat. In the process of doing so, Harr could not help but to stare as she puffed her chest out, but averted his eyes back toward his lasgun as Carmichael finished stretching. She knew he had stared at her, though¡ªshe did not mind; in fact, that had been the point of the motion. ¡°Watch where you point that, Bliss,¡± a third voice approached them in response to Carmichael¡¯s stretching.


    ¡°Get a good look, Sly, I hope?¡± she asked with a chuckle.


    ¡°A great angle, yeah,¡± Sly Burkowitz nodded, stepping up to the duo sitting under the autocannon. ¡°Say, have you two seen Graer?¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t he on patrol today?¡± Harr suggested.


    ¡°Well, yeah, but his shift should be ending,¡± Burkowitz noted, and looked around the scene, his eyes safely obscured behind a pair of dark goggles. He, too, was without his shirt. ¡°He should be in plain view of us, but he isn¡¯t. I hope the heat hasn¡¯t gotten to him.¡±


    ¡°Graer¡¯s a big guy, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s fine,¡± Carmichael shrugged.


    ¡°It¡¯s his size that worries me. He¡¯ll suffer the heat more,¡± Burkowitz suggested.


    ¡°Fair,¡± Carmichael nodded, then rose to her feet. ¡°Do you have his planned patrol route? We could look for him in a Tauros.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking that, but I wanted to send both out¡ªone team driving the start of his route, the other in reverse from what should¡¯ve been the end,¡± Burkowitz explained. ¡°Jat already agreed to join me for one trip, would you two be up for the other?¡±


    ¡°Did you confirm with Star and Plis about holding the fort while we¡¯re out?¡± Harr asked.


    ¡°I did,¡± Burkowitz nodded.


    ¡°Then sure, if Bliss wants to,¡± Harr agreed, also rising to his feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m driving, Jack,¡± she winked to him, sheathing her autogun, and making for the garage that had the FD¡¯s two Tauros.


    ¡°Hey, Bliss, wait,¡± Burkowitz called to her. She turned around. ¡°Just gonna head out without the route?¡± he laughed, making her blush. ¡°He planned to patrol from here to Fortune Bluff, then to Harkolan Crag, and lastly to Eagle¡¯s Mourning before returning here. Why don¡¯t you take Eagle¡¯s Mourning first, while Jat and I start from the Bluff?¡±


    ¡°Works for me,¡± Carmichael nodded. ¡°What do we do if or when we cross each other?¡±


    ¡°Keep going, maybe one of us will see something on the same route but from our different angle,¡± Burkowitz suggested.


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    ¡°Roger that. Drive safe, Sly,¡± she told him, again turning away for the garage.


    ¡°You too, Bliss!¡± Burkowitz called to her while she and Harr entered the garage, Harr throwing his shirt back on, covered in sweat though it was. In the garage, Carmichael slid into the driver¡¯s seat with her usual agility, hopping into the vehicle with grace. Harr, meanwhile, needed to use the great big ¡®I¡¯ on the side of the vehicle to help himself up to the gunner¡¯s compartment. Carmichael began revving the engine while he got situated.


    ¡°Not a race today, Bliss,¡± Harr reminded her.


    ¡°You¡¯re no fun,¡± she grinned, dropping her goggles over her eyes. She noticed Burkowitz and Jatizo Kilgar now approaching the garage together as a pair, too. ¡°Say, altar boy, got one for finding lost friends?¡±


    ¡°I got one, though I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve ever shouted a prayer over the sound of a Tauros engine,¡± Harr replied.


    ¡°No time like the present,¡± she said, still grinning, and then revved the engine once more before lurching the Tauros onward.


    Harr did not think Carmichael was a particularly good driver. In fact, he thought Carmichael knew she was not a good driver, which is why she wanted to torture him with her own driving. As the sandy world whipped around him, he gingerly lifted his fatigues over his mouth, keeping it a bit more protected. His goggles would suffice for his eyes, at least. In the meantime, he murmured another prayer to himself, though it definitely could not be heard by Carmichael over the engines and the wind. ¡°O Eternal Emperor, Who alone watches us, And rules the tides and storms, Be compassionate to your servants, Preserve us from the perils of the galaxy, That we may be a safeguard to the Domain of Men.¡±


    It was a ten minute drive out to Eagle¡¯s Mourning. Upon arrival, Carmichael drove up to the base of the dilapidated, rusty antenna array and parked for a moment. ¡°You see anything up there?¡± she called to Harr.


    Harr looked around for a bit, then shook his head. ¡°Negative. You¡¯re a shit driver, you know that, Bliss?¡± he asked, a bit weary from the drive.


    ¡°Of course I do!¡± she laughed, and then revved the engine again before moving on. The twinned suns were finally beginning to settle beyond the horizon, and things were beginning to cool. Fifteen minutes from Eagle¡¯s Mourning to Harkolan Crag. Carmichael did a lap around the large rocky outcrop while Harr looked up at its various features, looking for signs of Graer, but finding nothing. On the exit of that lap, Burkowitz and Kilgar passed by with a wave. Harr and Carmichael carried on.


    Twenty minutes later still, just as they reached Fortune Bluff, the vox receiver on the Tauros Harr and Carmichael were driving buzzed to life. ¡°Tauros-1 to Tauros-2, we found Graer. Return to camp, over,¡± Burkowitz reported.


    ¡°Tauros-2 to Tauros-1, receiving, returning to camp, over and out,¡± Carmichael responded.


    ¡°How¡¯d we miss him?¡± Harr shouted.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out!¡± she yelled back, tugging on the steering wheel of their Tauros and turning back to camp as night fell. She pushed her goggles over her forehead and flicked their vehicle¡¯s front lights, four cones of yellow beaming ahead onto the dark and dusty world before them. They rode on for another seven minutes before arriving at camp, backing the Tauros into the garage. Burkowitz¡¯s had already arrived, sitting idle in the garage. Harr and Carmichael disembarked from theirs after parking it, and strode into the camp proper. ¡°Where the frig are they?¡± Carmichael muttered, looking around.


    ¡°Hey, Bliss, Jack, over here!¡± Kilgar shouted to them, peeking out from the men¡¯s residence tent. Carmichael and Harr hurried over.


    ¡°Where the heck was he?¡± Harr asked as they neared.


    ¡°Pretty close to camp, actually. Collapsed in a ditch,¡± Kilgar explained, leading them into the tent. Graer Millart laid still in a cot pulled to the middle of the tent, with everyone else surrounding him. He was unconscious and his tanned face had reddened. ¡°As Sly suggested, given your angle of approach, it makes sense that you didn¡¯t see him. He was hidden pretty well if you were looking from the camp.¡±


    ¡°Hidden? You make it sound intentional,¡± Harr suggested.


    ¡°Bah, I don¡¯t mean to. Poor choice of words, I guess,¡± Kilgar admitted with a shrug.


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Pliskoska Kratz suggested, waving the trio further inside. ¡°He had a head wound.¡±


    ¡°He does? Where?¡± Carmichael frowned, joining her squad in standing over Millart.


    ¡°Back of the head,¡± Burkowitz reported. ¡°We¡¯ve wrapped it up now, but it was bad enough for blood loss.¡±


    ¡°Could he have gotten it when he fell?¡± Carmichael asked.


    ¡°Not likely. We found him on his face. Unless he retained consciousness enough to turn himself onto his front, but that doesn¡¯t strike me as being too probable,¡± Burkowitz replied.


    ¡°So, what then?¡± Harr asked.


    ¡°Either some wildlife struck him in the back of his head, or someone did,¡± Starkene Hicketz replied.


    Kratz glanced at Harr and Carmichael, which made the former lurch away in disgust. ¡°You don¡¯t think one of us did?¡± Harr exclaimed.


    ¡°Not with any surety,¡± Kilgar shook his head. ¡°But unless we have an intruder, or unless it was just some wildlife, there doesn¡¯t seem to be another possibility.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t Jack,¡± Carmichael started, but he interrupted her.


    ¡°Or Bliss!¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s pointing fingers at anyone, gang,¡± Burkowitz laughed, shaking his hands dismissively. ¡°Not yet, anyways. But how confident are those claims?¡±


    ¡°Completely,¡± Harr insisted. Carmichael shook her head.


    ¡°Jack shouldn¡¯t be able to be so confident,¡± she grinned. ¡°I spent the day tuning up the autocannons. I joined him when working on the second, but he has no idea where I was while I was working on the first. I can confidently say I saw him fiddling with his lasgun the whole day, though.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t fiddling, I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a joke, bud,¡± she chuckled. ¡°What about you four? I saw you all sporadically throughout the day, but where¡¯ve you all been otherwise?¡±


    ¡°Running water reserves from the well,¡± Hicketz answered. ¡°I figured if this heat is sticking around, it¡¯d be best to top off on drinkable water sooner rather than later.¡±


    ¡°Can anyone corroborate that?¡± Kilgar asked.


    ¡°No one should be able to. But the well¡¯s out the opposite direction from where you two found Graer. You can check the water reserve level log and note that it¡¯s higher now than it was recorded yesterday. I couldn¡¯t have domed Graer and gotten the reserve to where it¡¯s at,¡± Hicketz explained. ¡°Of the rest of you, I saw Plis the most, on the voxcaster.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, I was making sure the vox was working and getting weather updates from headquarters. Speaking of which, there¡¯s a sandstorm blowing in from the south. Should arrive this time tomorrow evening. We¡¯ll need to spend much of tomorrow making sure everything is strapped down,¡± Kratz explained.


    ¡°Fantastic, a possible intruder or impostor and a sandstorm to boot,¡± Burkowitz grumbled. ¡°I was tuning up and refueling both of the Tauros. Run into any fuel problems, you two?¡± he asked Harr and Carmichael, who shook their heads. ¡°Didn¡¯t think so. You¡¯re welcome. Which¡­just leaves you, Jat.¡±


    ¡°Which sucks, because I, like everyone else, have an alibi,¡± he replied immediately, then bit his tongue. Silence followed while the group waited for him to elaborate.


    ¡°Well?¡± Harr asked.


    ¡°I, uh¡­I¡­¡± he stammered.


    ¡°You were installing a pict in our tent again, weren¡¯t you?¡± Hicketz asked dryly. Kilgar went flush, grinned, and shrugged. ¡°Throne, you know we have to tell the Inquisitor about this, what the frig is wrong with you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I should answer that one,¡± Kilgar shook his head, backing away from the trio of women giving him the stink eye.


    ¡°Well, at least it¡¯s an alibi I can believe,¡± Carmichael sighed. ¡°Where is it?¡±


    ¡°Your bunk.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so flattered,¡± she said dryly, rolling her eyes.


    ¡°Which means either one of us is lying, or we have an intruder,¡± Burkowitz reminded everyone.


    ¡°Or it¡¯s a bird or something,¡± Kilgar added.


    ¡°Just go remove the frigging pict, Jatizo,¡± Burkowitz growled. ¡°Accompany him, Bliss.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure,¡± she sneered.

 Chapter 32 - Upending

    Harr did not sleep well that night. His dreams were filled with fire, screams, and explosions. When a particularly large explosion woke him up in the middle of the night with a start, he came to the logical conclusion that he was reliving past trauma. In light of that conclusion, he remembered the litanies of the Imperial Infantryman¡¯s Uplifting Primer, and began mouthing the words of an optimistic prayer. That calmed him down, well enough that he found the wherewithal to lie back down and return to sleep. His dreams were uneventful from there on.


    In the morning, everyone was still alive¡ªwhich was great!¡ªbut Millart was still unconscious. Burkowitz suggested everyone operate as a trio for the day, so that if there was an impostor among the group, they would never be left alone with anyone. There was no dissent from the suggestion. Harr, however, wanted to be grouped with Carmichael, but the groupings wound up landing into a gendered split, so as not to pair Kilgar with any women. When the groups were divided, they each got to work with securing the tents to the ground and tarping over the autocannons. Making sure everything was well tacked down took several hours unto itself.


    Toward the mid-afternoon, Burkowitz grouped everyone together to voxcast a report of the situation to headquarters. The connection was mostly stable, giving some credence to Kratz¡¯s alibi before the storm rolled in. That being said, headquarters did not immediately respond, leaving the squad of six impatiently waiting in the tense fear that one of them may have been planning to kill the others. ¡°Headquarters receiving Forward Detachment Theta, clearing?¡± asked a monotone, unidentifiable voice on the other end of the vox, as was ever the case with headquarters. The voice possessed no distinguishing characteristics or inflections; the speaker could have been a native to Canicus or a foreigner, male or female, anything. Most likely, the squad often joked, was that headquarters was entirely staffed by incompetent servitors.


    ¡°Clearing Niner-Two-Alpha-Eye-Ecks-Alpha-Seven,¡± Burkowitz reported.


    ¡°Forward Detachment Theta cleared. What is your prerogative?¡±


    ¡°We have suspect of intrusion or an impostor. Unknown operative. One member of FD Theta incapacitated. Requesting insight or assist.¡±


    ¡°Acknowledge, please stay FD Theta,¡± headquarters responded, and the rattling tap of hands could be heard over the vox. ¡°Insight: Unlikely intrusion. No foreign contacts established in planetary orbit or atmospheric injection vectors. Assist: Interrogator can be dispatched. Confirm request for suitability.¡±


    ¡°Confirm.¡±


    ¡°Interrogator will be dispatched to FD Theta. ETA 72 Terran Hours. Can you maintain operation, FD Theta?¡±


    ¡°We can.¡±


    ¡°Acknowledge. FD Theta, stay operation. Ensure survival of your incapacitated member. Interrogation imminent. Further prerogatives?¡±


    ¡°Negative.¡±


    ¡°Understood. The Emperor protects.¡±


    And with that, the vox connection died out. Burkowitz looked to his team and shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s that, I guess.¡±


    ¡°If one of us is a traitor, they¡¯ll be more desperate to do whatever they wanted to do now that they¡¯re on a clock,¡± Kilgar noted.


    ¡°Yeah. But desperation can lead to mistakes. Our groups of three continue. Leave no two people alone, ever,¡± Burkowitz explained. ¡°Any objections?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± most murmured, though all shook their heads.


    ¡°Alright. Then make one final pass on the camp before retiring for the day. Everyone wear masks tonight, don¡¯t want you suffocating in the storm,¡± Burkowitz declared.


    ¡°We should check their air filters,¡± Carmichael suggested. ¡°Make sure they¡¯re operational.¡±


    ¡°Good call, Bliss; yeah, we should. You three work on that. The three of us will make sure the camp doesn¡¯t blow away tonight,¡± Burkowitz agreed, tugging on the shoulders of Harr and Kilgar to pull them away.


    As the male trio began toiling away at securing another tent, Kilgar noted, ¡°You didn¡¯t report me to the Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°More pressing issues, Jat. And for the time being, you may have the soundest alibi of us all, even if it is a gross one,¡± Burkowitz replied. ¡°You and Jack have decent ones.¡±


    ¡°Which means we¡¯re leaving Bliss with an attempted killer,¡± Harr muttered.


    ¡°Or it¡¯s her,¡± Kilgar added. ¡°Bet you¡¯d want that pict installed then, huh?¡±


    ¡°Or it¡¯s me,¡± Burkowitz rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s no use guessing. And no, even if it was her, I don¡¯t need to see what that pict would¡¯ve seen.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, like there¡¯s anyone in this camp that¡¯s not interested in her. Jackie boy over here certainly is,¡± Kilgar laughed. ¡°Hell, I think Star likes her, too.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true, we all probably do like her. But you don¡¯t. You lust for her,¡± Harr growled. ¡°You disappoint the Throne, Jatizo. Pull yourself together.¡±


    The trio worked in silence for a few minutes more, then, upon finishing securing the tent, stood and looked at one another. Still in silence, for a time, until Burkowitz broke it. ¡°Throne, I pray it was just a bird or something.¡±


    ¡°Same,¡± Kilgar and Harr nodded in unison.


    ¡°Frigging Graer,¡± Burkowitz muttered. ¡°Wake up already.¡±


    ***


    The storm arrived a little before nightfall, but per Burkowitz¡¯s recommendation, and after the other trio¡¯s inspection, full-face-covering respiratory masks were donned early enough so as not to endanger anyone. A mask was also placed over Millart¡¯s face. Everyone hunkered down for the storm, though it was an unpleasant experience nevertheless. High winds carrying little pellets of sand and stone could not be pleasant, regardless of one¡¯s preparations¡ªmoreover, everyone would need to sleep in their fatigues and armor, just to offer protection from said-environment. But, operating in high-intensity situations is what they were all trained for.


    Or, so Harr thought, at least.


    However, he found he could not sleep in the perpetual buffeting of the winds. After trying¡ªand failing¡ªto rest for about an hour and a half, he sat up amidst his peers in the storm and tried to muster the words for a prayer to calm his mind. Unfortunately, he found he did not have one for the scenario. He decided to walk over to Millart and check up on his friend. To do that within the winds, he needed to slip some leaded boots on to help weigh him down, even within the tent. By the time he made his way to Millart, however, he felt like he was being watched. So, on instinct, he spun around, glancing across the room. He found Burkowitz¡¯s eyes open, watching him.


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    I¡¯m not a traitor, Sly, Harr motioned with sign language. Most members of the Astra Militarum were taught the basics of sign language, for the scenario where vox was not available or silence was otherwise necessary.


    Can¡¯t sleep? Burkowitz motioned back. Harr nodded. Me neither.


    Harr looked to Millart. The bastard was sleeping nice and sound. While looking at Millart, Harr noticed the storm began to wane a bit, the winds piping down ever so slightly. In the process, he heard an engine running. Do you hear that? he motioned to Burkowitz.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Burkowitz replied aloud, sitting up. The two looked to the entrance of their tent just in time to see a red glare pass over it. ¡°Contact, contact!¡± Burkowitz shouted at once, all but falling out of his bunk and scaring Kilgar out of his in the process. He then repeated the phrase into his vox. ¡°All units, contact! Get to point defense! Don¡¯t forget your boots!¡± Then, to Harr alone, Burkowitz shouted. ¡°Vox this in on the `caster!¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Harr shouted, heart pounding and blood pumping. He raced out of the tent to see the trio in the tent opposite his doing the same. While he did not have time to stop and think about it, the thought did flick through his head: If all three of the women were in their tent, and all three (four including Millart) of the men were in their tent, who were they making contact with? Harr began running for the voxcaster just in time for a cluster of Heavy Bolter rounds to explode at his feet, knocking him into a stumble. They came in the opposite direction of headquarters. So intrusion, it seemed, and not a traitor after all. At least there was that.


    The sound of lasfire and autogun munitions raced across the scene, partially drowned out by the winds. Visibility was low, but the red light in the distance that had glared over Harr¡¯s tent remained there in perpetuity. A searchlight, it seemed, on an armored vehicle. Harr did not think about it much, and instead landed himself next to the voxcaster in a flurry. He flicked the device on and immediately roared into the sending apparatus. ¡°FD Theta to HQ, we¡¯re under attack! Requesting immediate assist!¡±


    The low buzz of a dead line was barely audible over the chaos behind him and the winds around him. He hurriedly inspected the voxcaster, and in the process found a knife embedded in the back of it, right where he knew the vital instrumentation for the caster to be. On the hilt of the knife was an ¡®I¡¯ not unlike those on his squad¡¯s Tauros. They were on their own. Harr turned back to his team just in time to see Burkowitz and Kilgar priming one of the embedded autocannons and training it on the red spotlight in the sand-shrouded darkness before them. They fired.


    And exploded into white flames.


    Harr could hear their screams, but it seemed Hicketz and Kratz could not, as they were a greater distance away, also working one of the autocannons from higher ground. A moment later, they, too, exploded into white agony, their bodies spiraling away from the obviously-sabotaged weapon. Harr froze. He had been beginning to raise his lasgun toward the armored vehicle approaching their camp, but seeing four of his friends incinerated in half as many seconds proved too much for him.


    But his nightmare was only just beginning.


    ¡°Drop it!¡± Carmichael shouted from behind him. Slowly, all but petrified, he turned to face her. Her fatigues were gone, replaced with a black bodyglove that, Harr noticed, made her look even more exquisitely beautiful than ever. But that beauty was far from the first thing on his mind. ¡°I said drop the weapon, Jack!¡± she yelled again, pointing her autogun at him. Her once blue eyes had been replaced with burning crimson, and her long, flowing, blonde hair had given way to a black top that matched her bodysuit, pulled back in a bun on the back of her head.


    ¡°You, y-you, Bliss,¡± he murmured, shellshocked, not recognizing the woman¡¯s face before him, but certainly remembering her voice and the rest of her body.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to save you, Jack, just drop the frigging weapon!¡±


    ¡°S-save me?¡± Harr panted, barely able to breathe. ¡°Y-you k-killed everyone. Y-you tuned the autocannons. You did this!¡± he exclaimed, piecing the subterfuge together.


    ¡°Yeah, I did, now if you¡¯ve ever loved the Throne, Jack Harr, drop your frigging weapon!¡± Carmichael insisted.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because unlike you, I¡¯m an Agent of the Inquisition. The real Inquisition. Not the voidshit going on here on Canicus. And if you don¡¯t drop your weapon by the time that Chimera pulls up on our camp to collect me, the people in it will shoot you dead,¡± Carmichael explained. ¡°Now drop. Your. Weapon.¡±


    Harr¡¯s weapon fell, but it was not intentional. It slipped from his hands.


    ¡°Good. Now do you want to serve the Throne, Jack?¡± Carmichael asked.


    ¡°I-I-I don¡¯t¡­who¡­how¡­Graer,¡± he thought, and glanced to the men¡¯s tent.


    ¡°Dead. Just now. Also my doing,¡± she shrugged, then took a hand from her autogun and pulled the knife out of the voxcaster. With an expertly flourish, she collapsed it in one hand and slid it into a small sheath on her waist. As she did so, Harr connected more dots. Kilgar had said that the angle he and Carmichael had taken from the camp would not have seen Millart. ¡®He was hidden pretty well if you were looking from the camp.¡¯ Hidden from the camp. She had done that to Millart, and then joined him at the autocannons while he was cleaning his weapon to build a cover for herself. And he had fallen for it completely.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this, then?¡± a voice asked from behind Harr. Harr turned around and looked upon what he assumed was the face of Death¡ªa tall man in black carapace armor, the painting of a skull adorning his helmet. Glass red circles beamed out of the man¡¯s head, ablaze in lights that Bliss¡¯s own crimson gaze could not mimic. Harr did recognize some of the man¡¯s equipment, though; the Guard always complained about Storm Troopers getting the best stuff.


    ¡°I want him alive,¡± Carmichael told the man.


    ¡°You want him? What is he, your next boy toy? What happened to the last one?¡± the Storm Trooper asked Carmichael with a grunt.


    ¡°Frig off, Hager,¡± Carmichael growled.


    ¡°Who¡ªwho are¡ª¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t take prisoners in the Inquisition, Stealth,¡± this ¡®Hager¡¯ fellow scoffed. ¡°So why is he alive?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡¯s loyal, damnit!¡± Carmichael exclaimed, exasperated.


    ¡°They were loyal!¡± Harr shouted, gesturing to his fallen friends.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t prove it day in and day out like you did!¡± Carmichael snapped back. ¡°You¡¯re loyal to a fault, Jack.¡± She then looked to ¡®Hager.¡¯ ¡°The boss would like him.¡±


    ¡°What do you know about what the boss would like?¡± ¡®Hager¡¯ snorted.


    ¡°Plenty,¡± Carmichael grinned, putting her hands on her hips, having sheathed her autogun as well. ¡°Maybe more than you, Tactical.¡±


    ¡°Watch your tongue, Stealth. I¡¯ve been with the boss longer than you¡¯ve been alive. Taking a prisoner, especially so early in the op, throws things awry! If he can¡¯t be trusted in totality¡ª¡± ¡®Hager¡¯ explained, but was interrupted.


    ¡°He can be trusted!¡± Carmichael insisted. ¡°Can¡¯t you, Jack? The Throne can trust you?¡±


    ¡°I¡­I thought¡­we were supposed to be¡­who are you?¡±


    ¡°Individual identity is irrelevant,¡± a robotic voice uttered from behind the group. Harr glanced to the speaker and saw a Tech Priest being escorted by a woman in advanced power armor, black as night. A Sister. Harr had never seen one of them before, and had only heard stories. He had also never seen a Tech Priest; this one had a large Servo Arm attached to its back, and carried a power axe adorned with the Cult Mechanicus skull and cog. ¡°Panicked voice attenuation suggests genuine confusion, with only 11.2% malice. Likelihood of reliability estimated at 91.1%. Vital signs appear performative, though heartrate is considerably escalated. In answering your question, captive, about the whole, we are Agents of the Inquisition. You are not. Your headquarters belongs to the heretic. We are here to end the heretic. Quid pro quo established. Query: Are you a heretic, or are you a servant of the Emperor?¡±


    ¡°I have always wanted to serve the Emperor,¡± Harr replied, the Tech Priest¡¯s candid logic working wonders on sorting out his train of thought. But the panicking returned as soon as he answered the Tech Priest.


    ¡°Vocal inflection of response suggests honesty,¡± the Tech Priest noted.


    ¡®Hager¡¯ looked to Carmichael. ¡°Fine. But you¡¯re babysitting him. Get him in the tank,¡± he ordered, and turned away from the group, taking the Tech Priest and Sister of Battle with him back toward the Chimera that had parked in their camp.


    ¡°I am sorry, Jack. It was this or killing you. I didn¡¯t want to kill you,¡± Carmichael explained, shepherding the shaking, dumbfounded man onward.


    ¡°Is your name even Bliss?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±

 Chapter 33 - Pariah

    Harr stood next to not-Bliss in the back of the Chimera, watching the world he knew vanish as its doors closed. He felt empty, hollow. Uncertain. All he had the strength for was standing and watching and listening. So he stood, watched, and listened. In addition to the Storm Trooper, Sister of Battle, Tech Priest, and bodygloved-not-Bliss, the Chimera also held a trio of Guardsmen like himself, though they seemed marginally more of a veteran, battle-worn sort compared to his Whiteshield nature. Two combat servitors were also present, answering to the Tech Priest. Finally, at the far end of the personnel bay of the Chimera, stood an officer in full body armor, hands working on a dataslate. Her skin was dark as night, and what could be seen of her hair was braided.


    ¡°What¡¯s our route look like?¡± the Hager fellow asked not-Bliss, who, for the time being, Harr decided to just continue referring to as Bliss Carmichael.


    ¡°Target is twenty miles up the chasm. The chasm ends in a bend that empties onto an open bridge where point defenses lay in wait. We should not be in the armor on that bridge,¡± Carmichael explained.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Hager nodded. ¡°Intel, what do you have?¡±


    Still looking at her dataslate, the woman at the back of the Chimera answered, ¡°Two Sabre Platforms each with Twinned Lascannons primed at bridge installation, manned. Two Tarantula Sentries equipped and primed identically, unmanned. One Phaeton Pattern Defense Turret; personnel unknown. Three Griffons, personnel unknown. One Manticore.¡±


    ¡°Is the Manticore stationary or on a tank?¡± Hager asked.


    ¡°It is a stationary emplacement,¡± the woman answered.


    ¡°It¡¯s yours, then,¡± Hager told Carmichael, then looked back to the woman at the back of the vehicle. ¡°How much longer is this storm going to last?¡±


    ¡°Storm expected to clear in three hours and eighteen minutes,¡± she answered, still thumbing away at her dataslate.


    ¡°Plenty of time,¡± Hager nodded to himself.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the new guy?¡± the woman asked, having never once looked at Harr.


    ¡°Apparently Stealth¡¯s new squeeze,¡± Hager shrugged.


    ¡°He¡¯s loyal to the Throne, alright? I couldn¡¯t just leave him with the rest,¡± Carmichael explained for the umpteenth time.


    ¡°Sure you could have,¡± one of the Guardsmen noted.


    ¡°Oh, like we left you on Fareran?¡± Carmichael quipped back.


    ¡°How can you know¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my job to know,¡± she answered.


    ¡°Negative, it is my job to know,¡± the woman at the back of the vehicle corrected. ¡°Tactical, do you believe his presence will compromise the integrity of the operation?¡±


    ¡°If I did, I wouldn¡¯t have allowed him on board in the first place,¡± Hager shrugged again. ¡°Stealth says she can watch him, so I¡¯m content to let her try.¡±


    ¡°Does he have a name?¡± the Sister of Battle asked.


    ¡°Jack Harr, ma¡¯am,¡± Harr answered, voice quivering in awe of his surroundings.


    ¡°Sister, please,¡± the Sister replied.


    ¡°Right, sorry,¡± he nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s up to you and Intel, Sister,¡± Hager noted. ¡°You¡¯re our Command rep, after all. What do you two think?¡±


    ¡°I am willing to defer to Intel for this operation,¡± the Sister answered.


    ¡°And I am willing to defer to your judgement, Tactical,¡± the woman at the back¡ªIntel¡ªanswered. ¡°Hasn¡¯t steered us wrong thus far.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, a lot of that has been courtesy of the boss¡¯s guidance,¡± Hager¡ªTactical¡ªsighed.


    ¡°The boss exists?¡± one of the Guardsmen asked, which appeared to be a joke, as the rest chuckled from it.


    ¡°Shut up, Hosku,¡± Hager grunted.


    ¡°Who¡­how¡­what is this op?¡± Harr managed to squeeze out.


    Eyes looked around the room to various seniorities. Many fell on Carmichael, ¡®Tactical¡¯, the Sister¡ª¡®Command¡¯¡ª, and ¡®Intel.¡¯ None fell on the Tech Priest, which is ironic, because it was the Tech Priest that read the room and broke the silence. ¡°Withholding operational information from an operative, compromised or not, is likely to result in unsatisfactory outcomes. Suggested recourse: offer enough information for him to work with as required.¡±


    Hager looked to Intel, who shrugged¡ªstill not looking up from her dataslate. Hager then looked to Harr. ¡°Your Inquisitor¡­he was an Inquisitor. But he had radicalized long ago and is now declared¡­damnit, what¡¯s the phrase, Intel?¡±


    ¡°Excommunicate Traitoris,¡± Intel answered.


    ¡°Right. Excommunicated from the Holy Inquisition. He¡¯s part of a radical cell. Ordo Hereticus wants him alive for interrogation. Our op is to infiltrate his stronghold, kill everything that isn¡¯t ours, sabotage whatever he¡¯s been up to here, and take him in. Just so you¡¯re aware, she¡¯s an actual Inquisitor,¡± Hager explained, jamming a thumb toward Intel. ¡°So if she tells you to do something, it¡¯s like receiving an order from the Emperor Himself. Got that, kid?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, sir,¡± Harr nodded. ¡°This¡­this whole time, I¡¯ve been protecting a heretic?¡±


    ¡°Insidious, isn¡¯t it?¡± Carmichael nodded. ¡°Many, if not most, who serve heresy do so unaware of it. If you want to atone, Jack, now¡¯s your chance.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I¡­,¡± he started, but still had not figured out who to trust: the murderous group that had just abducted him and told him his life was a lie, or the life he thought he knew.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine not to have an answer yet. But when those doors open and we move out, you better have figured it out by then,¡± Carmichael told him, then slid off one of her gloves and took up one of his hands in hers. She was warm. She squeezed his hand in hers. He squeezed back, and for the first time that night, had found the peace with which to breathe.


    ¡°Who¡­she¡¯s an Inquisitor?¡± Harr asked, pointing to Intel. Intel gave him a thumb¡¯s up, still having refrained from turning her gaze from her dataslate. ¡°But she¡¯s not ¡®the boss¡¯?¡±


    ¡°The one who doesn¡¯t exist? No,¡± the Guardsman from earlier¡ªHosku¡ªshook his head.


    ¡°Why do you make that joke?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡¯s an idiot,¡± Hager grunted.


    ¡°No one¡¯s seen the boss in years,¡± Carmichael explained. ¡°Most haven¡¯t ever seen him. Only the Command and Tech units, and Tactical and Intel here.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t that seem slightly shady?¡± Harr asked. Hager laughed and even Intel managed a grin. ¡°Does it not?¡± Harr asked again.


    ¡°Perhaps it does,¡± Carmichael admitted with a laugh. ¡°But he¡¯s real. And he¡¯s a good man. I think he¡¯d like you, and that you¡¯d like him.¡±


    ¡°You still talk like you know him, Stealth,¡± Hager muttered.


    ¡°You still talk like I don¡¯t,¡± Carmichael returned with a grin. Hager glared at her, then shook his head and looked away. Carmichael looked back to Harr. ¡°As you¡¯ve probably deduced, I¡¯m a Stealth operative. My roles include infiltration, disguise, subterfuge, and sabotage. Unlike other units under the boss¡¯s command, no one knows who leads the Stealth unit. It could be me, it could be some other Stealth member; not even Intel over there knows.¡±


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    ¡°But she has a pretty good guess,¡± Intel muttered.


    ¡°Only Command-1 and Command-2, the ¡®boss¡¯ and the second in command, have any idea. So part of my role is to play up that I may or may not know more about the boss than I should.¡±


    ¡°So that if you get captured, you could feed false information your captors would be more willing to accept,¡± Harr guessed.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Carmichael nodded. ¡°Out of curiosity, Intel, what is your guess?¡±


    ¡°My guess, Bliss Carmichael, is that you are not the unit leader for the Stealth unit,¡± Intel replied. ¡°My reasoning stems from the fact that I have met you. I do not find it likely any of us will ever meet Stealth-1.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Carmichael mused, but otherwise said nothing.


    ¡°ETA 4 minutes to bend,¡± the Tech Priest noted. ¡°Recommend preparation of physical and mental faculties. What is expected point of entry?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been working out,¡± Intel replied. ¡°There is a sewer system underneath the fortress we should be able to access by descending from the bridge. We should cross the bridge on foot and descend upon the cliff of that side to minimize visibility; the storm should cover our journey from the point defense.¡±


    ¡°Should,¡± one of the Guardsmen noted.


    ¡°Yes. I estimate an 18% chance of being detected through the storm with our equipment. Higher if we use vox during our transition, so don¡¯t. Reveal no signals to our target,¡± Intel explained.


    ¡°Well, here¡¯s to the sewers,¡± Hager laughed. ¡°That should take you back to Abseradon, eh, Intel?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not as amused by the prospect as you are,¡± Intel grumbled.


    ***


    Intel¡¯s plan worked seamlessly at first. The bridge was crossed without being evaporated by the point defense systems staring at them, their oculars obscured behind the sandstorm. Harr had to let go of Carmichael¡¯s hand when the Chimera¡¯s doors opened, but he decided to follow after her. He was not convinced of the unseen-boss being a servant of the Emperor, but he was convinced that his only chance for survival was to do what Carmichael said. He was also convinced that she was sticking her neck out for him, and that he owed her at least a bit of cooperation.


    Upon crossing the bridge, the group began descending down the cliff face into the chasm below, as Intel had suggested. Hager, the Sister of Battle, and the Tech Priest served as a Vanguard in this regard, leaping down to a lower ledge with their landings being eased by their advanced armor. Everyone else, the servitors and Inquisitor included, needed to pace themselves in gingerly climbing down into the chasm. On that lower ledge, the group emptied out from beyond the cutting winds of the sandstorm, still obscured from the threats above by the sandstorm as much from the angle of the cliff face between them. However, a new threat appeared further below.


    ¡°Artificial darkness. Tech, report,¡± Hager demanded, peering down into the chasm, where a layer of pitch-black shadow stretched across the floor far below, an abrupt transition from the rocky cliffs at its edges.


    ¡°Auspex scans reveal Xenos entities within obscured regions,¡± the Tech Priest answered.


    ¡°Shadestalkers,¡± Harr suggested. Everyone looked to him. ¡°They¡¯re native to Canicus. They exhume light-absorbing particles. There must be a lot of them down there.¡±


    ¡°Scans suggest 34 Xenos entities between us and anticipated entry point,¡± the Tech Priest confirmed for the group.


    ¡°They must have been corralled here. Interesting,¡± Harr thought aloud.


    ¡°Are they hostile?¡± Hager asked Harr.


    ¡°They¡¯re territorial,¡± Harr nodded.


    ¡°Great,¡± Hager grumbled.


    ¡°Well look at that, the Gun Baby has a use after all,¡± one of the veteran Guardsmen chuckled. Gun Baby was another term for a Whiteshield, though Harr had not heard it often¡ªthis veteran was likely an offworlder.


    ¡°Bet you wish we waited for a Psyk operative now, eh, Tactical?¡± Intel grinned, now no longer working on a dataslate. She crossed her arms, then shrugged. ¡°How do these Shadestalkers see in their¡­shade?¡±


    ¡°Echolocation,¡± Harr answered.


    ¡°You seem to know a lot about the Xenos,¡± Command¡ªthe Sister¡ªnoted.


    Harr shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re native to Canicus. You just grow up learning about them. More of an undomesticated animal than a Xenos.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Hager shrugged. ¡°Tech, can you mask our presence from them?¡±


    ¡°I can, but not in a way that would not appear on a seismic monitor,¡± Tech confirmed.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, our foes will learn of our presence soon enough anyways. Do it. Everyone else, night vision up,¡± Hager ordered, and most of the group donned surveyor headsets for the task.


    ¡°Uh, what am I supposed to do?¡± Harr asked.


    ¡°Ask your babysitter,¡± Hager shrugged, and followed after the Tech Priest further into the void of the chasm, whose mechanisms were emitting an eerie hum. None knew precisely what the Tech Priest was doing to mask their movements from the Shadestalkers, but all trusted it.


    ¡°Hold me when we¡¯re down there,¡± Carmichael told Harr as the group continued their descent. Follow his abductors into a black abyss where he would be surrounded by great creatures that he would not be able to see? Well, it was that or head topside to get vaporized by the point defenses. Harr took his chances with the alleged-Inquisitorial Agents. He continued climbing down into the chasm with them, eventually passing into the opaque darkness at its base. He gingerly felt for the ground that he could not see with the tip of one of his feet, and his heartrate began to rise in abyssal darkness. He began to feel terribly sick to his stomach. When he found his footing, a hand wormed its way into one of his, and as consequence his heartrate began to fall back down. He knew the touch to be that of Carmichael¡¯s, and traitor or not, she remained the last connection he had to the life he thought he knew.


    Carmichael moved his hand to her shoulder before ferrying him along through the darkness. Harr still could not see much of anything, save for the occasional darkened silhouette, but he could hear two things¡ªthe footsteps of his captors and the huffed breathing of many nearby Shadestalkers. They sounded as though like cattle, but he knew them to be far less domesticated than that. He tried to shy away from the sounds of their breathing, if keeping still following in Carmichael¡¯s footsteps. The knot in his stomach only intensified as their journey continued; he assumed it was from the stress.


    It was not, as was revealed shortly after the group stepped into a large sewer pipe.


    The group only needed take a few steps into the sewer pipe to emerge from the opaque blackness of the Shadestalkers. It seemed as though the Shadestalkers knew better than to enter the sewers, and it also seemed Jack Harr was not the only one experiencing severe discomfort. Much of the group stumbled in their step, leaning against the walls of the pipe to catch themselves. ¡°Hey, Gun Baby, this feeling an effect of those Shade things?¡± a yet-unspoken Guardsman asked Harr, seeming as though to be on the verge of puking.


    ¡°No, not to my knowledge,¡± Harr shook his head, holding at his stomach.


    ¡°I know what this is,¡± the Inquisitor woman said sternly, stumbly deeper into the pipe. ¡°I haven¡¯t felt this since Thantalus, and even then not so intensely. But the families traded in this on occasion.¡±


    ¡°Intel?¡± Hager asked her.


    ¡°Pariah Gene. Blanks, Nulls, whatever you want to call them,¡± the Inquisitor replied. ¡°It¡¯s either several of them, or one very potent Null. The discomfort you all are feeling is psychological. Push through it,¡± she ordered, and led the way further into the sewers. Everyone hesitated in following after her, save for the servitors under the Tech Priest¡¯s command, but all did so after remembering their duties. The group stalked through the winding, slimy corridors of the sewer system, the environment being far less discomforting than the ambient repulsion generated by the Pariahs the Inquisitor had talked about. For a time, it seemed as though the tunnels of pipes went on for far longer than should have been possible, but surely that was just a mistaken feeling generated by the discomfort the group felt.


    The thought occurred to Intel as it had the others, but she did not give in to that assumption as everyone else did.


    Eventually, however, Intel¡¯s leadership did guide the group to an exit hatch in the ceiling of a pipe. The Tech Priest¡¯s servitors meticulously and quietly opened the hatch before establishing a portable ladder system for everyone else to use to climb out of the sewers. Hager and the Guardsmen went first, soon flanked by the Sister and Intel. Harr and Carmichael followed, with the Tech Priest and his servitors taking the rear. The group emerged into a room of prisons; it was not itself a prison, but cages dotted a large, flattened basement. People were within these cages, and equipment of all sorts had been affixed to these prisoners. Muzzles kept the prisoners quiet whilst small piping drained silvery, near-translucent fluid from the prisoners¡¯ backs. Each captive was kept suspended in the air, faces pointed toward the ground.


    It was hellish, and the sight of it all proved even more discomforting than the rampant discomfort that emanated from the captive Pariahs. Harr felt like he was going to pass out, and he was far from the only one of the group to be overwhelmed by the scene. Harr said a silent prayer to the Emperor, but wanted not for the Emperor to be looking upon such vile horror as surrounded him then.


    ¡°We have to destroy them,¡± Intel declared to the group.


    ¡°Good,¡± Hager nodded. ¡°We brought charges,¡± he suggested.


    ¡°Yes, set them up,¡± Intel ordered. Hager and the Guardsmen began routing demolition charges around the room¡¯s support structure. Intel, meanwhile, stepped up to one of the captive Pariahs. She raised a hand inside their cell and lifted their head up, making eye contact with one of the prisoners. ¡°You¡¯ll be given peace soon,¡± Intel assured the Pariah. The Pariah, muzzled, blinked once and nodded eagerly in Intel¡¯s grasp. ¡°Is Prareus here?¡± The Pariah nodded again. ¡°Do you know what he is extracting from you?¡± The head shook then. ¡°Tech, find a sample,¡± and the Tech Priest obeyed without a word.


    ¡°Prareus?¡± Harr whispered.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know his name? That¡¯s your faux-Inquisitor,¡± Carmichael replied just as quietly, trying to find a corner of the room furthest from the Pariahs. There was no such spot, but Harr followed after her all the same.


    ¡°He¡¯s not mine anymore,¡± Harr shook his head.


    ¡°Glad to hear it.¡±


    ¡°Were you a native to Canicus?¡± Intel asked, continuing her line of questioning. She received another shake of the head. ¡°Ixaniad Sector?¡± A shake of the head. ¡°Calixis?¡± Yes. ¡°Have you been here for more than a year?¡± Yes. ¡°Five?¡± Yes. ¡°Ten?¡± No. ¡°Have there been fatalities you¡¯ve observed from this extraction?¡± No. ¡°They¡¯ve kept you all alive for this?¡± Yes. ¡°Have you seen others like Prareus?¡± Yes. ¡°In Ixaniad?¡± Yes. ¡°On a planet or on a ship? Blink once for planet, twice otherwise.¡± Planet. ¡°Amnes Minoris?¡± Yes. ¡°Damn. Thank you, Pariah. Your end will be quick. The Emperor protects.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s Amnes Minoris?¡± Harr asked Carmichael.


    ¡°A deathtrap,¡± she shook her head. ¡°More than that, I shouldn¡¯t say.¡±

 Chapter 34 - Manticore

    Everyone was happy to put the Pariah-prison behind them. Tech secured a vial of the silver liquid for Intel, which she stashed away on her person for safekeeping. Silently, the group continued to stalk through the underside of the fortress that belonged to ¡®Prareus,¡¯ though that silence could only last so long and everyone knew it. Eventually, after securing and ascending a short flight of stairs, Intel turned to Hager and simply said, ¡°Ground floor.¡±


    To that, Hager turned to Carmichael, the Guardsmen, and unfortunately, to Harr. ¡°This is where we part ways, then. Stealth, as discussed, the Manticore is yours. You know what to do when you¡¯ve got it. Strike team, make sure she gets there. And you,¡± he started, red eyes glaring at Harr directly. ¡°The Throne is watching. Time to prove your worth.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Harr nodded in response, though it was not given as a militant reply, but rather as a formal one. Hager growled something to himself, then looked back to Carmichael.


    ¡°You have five minutes, tops, before we blow the basement and all hell breaks loose. Can¡¯t guarantee that our cover isn¡¯t blown before then, though. Good luck, team. The Emperor protects,¡± he told everyone.


    ¡°The Emperor protects,¡± everyone¡ªincluding Harr¡ªreplied, and to that Hager turned back to Intel, the Sister, and the Tech. The quartet, accompanied by the Tech Priest¡¯s servitors, skulked off on their own. ¡°Alright, men, five minutes to find and neutralize a terrifyingly destructive war machine. Let¡¯s not waste time chatting about it,¡± Carmichael declared, and gestured for the group to follow her in the opposite direction from Hager¡¯s squad. The Guardsmen obeyed, and Harr followed her by necessity.


    Harr had never been to Prareus¡¯s fortress. In fact, he had not known it to be a fortress at all; he had no idea the sort of structure his previous command had operated from, nor an inkling of its general layout. But, apparently, Carmichael had more than an inkling in that regard, as did the Guardsmen, as they seemed to know where they were going. Everyone else had apparently done their homework. Harr tried not to be too great a weight on their shoulders, now more genuinely believing that his former master was indeed heretical after seeing what was held in his basement. In fact, he was now happy that the actual Inquisition had showed up; his faith in the Inquisition as being the cleansing fire of the Emperor¡¯s benediction was precisely what he felt this world needed at the time.


    The group scurried seamlessly through Prareus¡¯s fortress without incident, though guards were seen and avoided in the process. Stealth¡ªCarmichael¡ªwas demonstrably capable within her role, knowing how to maneuver herself along with her compatriots within and around the scrutiny of their opposition. It only took a minute or two for the group to find their way back outside, where they were immediately buffeted by the sandstorm that continued to rage through the heavens above Canicus. Masks were thrust back on without hesitation or command, and the group continued forth, though visibility tanked. That was of course good for the purposes of maintaining a cover, but bad for those trying to follow along¡ªwhich was, now, everyone, as Carmichael was again leading the way in search of the Manticore.


    Their search did not take long to find stone stairs leading to a ring of battlements. Battlements? Harr thought. He was beginning to get a picture of some foreboding, gothic castle secluded in a mountainous gully. Were it not for the sandstorm, the scene of Prareus¡¯s fortress was, in Harr¡¯s mind, fantastical, albeit in a moody sense. Atop the battlements was, immediately, nothing of interest. Carmichael glanced to her left and right, then shrugged. ¡°Flip a throne,¡± she grumbled to the group, gesturing in either direction.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I could see how a coin would land,¡± Hosku replied.


    ¡°Right is might,¡± Carmichael suggested, and headed off to their right. They pursued that angle in peace for a time, but eventually the ground beneath their feet shuddered as an explosion rocked Prareus¡¯s fortress. ¡°Our five minutes are up. Weapons ready,¡± Carmichael warned the group.


    ¡°What weapons?¡± Harr sighed, still not having been given his lasgun back. Unbeknownst to Harr, Carmichael managed a grin, but no one else reacted to his comment, and instead the group picked up the pace in pursuit of their Manticore. For the next thirty seconds, in circling around the battlements of Prareus¡¯s fortress, they continued unopposed. Then, finally, they found their quarry: a large, stationary installation holding four larger, imposing missiles. The slight movement of staff attendants could barely be seen through the cover of the sandstorm, but thus far Carmichael and the quartet behind her had not been spotted.


    Carmichael glanced behind her and pointed to the Guardsmen. She then held up two fingers and gestured toward the Manticore. She pointed up before sliding flat hands over each other in a gesture of negativity. Don¡¯t shoot the missiles, was the intended message. Harr understood, and prayed to the Throne everyone else got it too. Carmichael then pointed to Harr specifically before pointing to the ground. She wanted him to stay down. He obeyed, and let the quartet do their work. He did not want to see it done anyways. Upon laying on the stone battlements, he closed his eyes and said another silent prayer to the Emperor, asking for guidance. Shortly after his prayer finished, the hiss of four quick, muted lasrifle shots wheezed over the whipping winds. Harr looked up, and saw his entourage still standing, now within the shuddered confines of cover provided by the Manticore¡¯s encampment. He spied Carmichael waving him over, and rose to do so.


    Upon his arrival, he found the two bodies of the Manticore¡¯s former crew slumped up against its hull, obscured from view even by those who may catch a glimpse of the scene through the sandstorm. ¡°Now what?¡± Harr asked when he rejoined the group.


    ¡°Now, altar boy, you say a prayer to this beast¡¯s Machine Spirit for us,¡± Carmichael replied, winking to him in still calling him ¡®altar boy.¡¯


    ¡°What, you intend to fire it? In this?¡± Harr asked, gesturing around to the sandstorm everywhere around them. Carmichael shrugged. ¡°And¡­you actually want me to say a prayer to it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the most capable in that regard, yes,¡± Carmichael nodded.


    ¡°Well, OK I guess,¡± Harr sighed, shrugging himself. ¡°O Great Machine Spirit, we offer you freedom from the stagnant oppression of operating in the hands of the heretic, and invite you back to the fires of war in the name of Holy Terra and the Divine Spark of Mars. We ask that you release your vengeance upon the heretic, and visit upon them the wonders of your rage, even in this tumultuous storm. May your roar sing praise to the God of All Machines.¡±


    ¡°That was better than I expected,¡± Hosku admitted, clapping Harr on the back. ¡°Targets locked, Stealth?¡±


    ¡°Targets locked.¡±


    ¡°What are your¡ª¡±


    ¡°The other FD¡¯s,¡± Carmichael replied. ¡°Ready for ignition?¡±


    ¡°Ready for ignition.¡±


    ¡°Fire.¡±


    ¡°Fire.¡±


    Immense heat blasted over the scene as each of the four missiles burst into life, screaming off into the vast nothingness of the sandstorm ahead of the battlements. ¡°Throne Almighty!¡± Harr recoiled, not remotely ready for the Manticore to have been fired so soon. ¡°The other FD¡¯s? That¡¯s¡­this is way overkill for that!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just one missile each,¡± Carmichael shrugged. ¡°And besides, there can¡¯t be any evidence of the heresy here on Canicus remaining. Once we¡¯re done here, this fortress will be lanced from orbit until the whole chasm is just a sheet of glass. This was to make sure the other FD¡¯s don¡¯t mobilize to reinforce Prareus against us. Are you¡ªLexam!¡± Carmichael shouted as one of the Guardsmen recoiled, away from the group, the red light of lasfire briefly flashing over the scene. Harr took cover again as the Guardsman¡ªLexam¡ªhit the ground, clutching at his incinerated shoulder. Carmichael and the others returned fire from behind the cover of the now-spent Manticore.


    ¡°Give me your gun!¡± Harr shouted to Lexam.


    ¡°Like hell, Whiteshield!¡± Lexam growled back, trying to squirm back behind cover of the Manticore. Harr reached down to help pull him along.


    ¡°Do it, Lexam!¡± Carmichael shouted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t take orders from¡ª¡± Lexam began to protest.


    ¡°Give him the frigging gun or I¡¯ll put you down myself and let him take it!¡± Carmichael shouted in return. Lexam begrudgingly obeyed. ¡°Harr, secure our flank!¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am!¡± Harr agreed, accepting Lexam¡¯s lasgun and priming it to the empty sandstorm beyond. Soon, the emptiness coalesced to the rough, still-obscured forms of encroaching soldiers. Harr opened fire.


    ***


    The fighting began a lot sooner for Silas¡¯s group than for Harr¡¯s. That was by design. Unlike Harr¡¯s group, however, Silas¡¯s leveled the opposition it came across in quick, brutal instants. Silas had not operated with this Sister and Tech-Priest¡ªor his servitors¡ªbefore, but it did not matter; the six of them moved as a cohesive unit through any and all foes they found on their way to Prareus. In fact, the gunfights were, though numerous and very bloody, by far the least interesting part of Silas¡¯s day.


    ¡°Ah, Trantos and Hager, a pleasure to meet you,¡± an inviting voice called to them after the group had emptied half a dozen rooms of life. Silas looked up to the top of a staircase to see its owner¡ªnot Prareus. ¡°I am Interrogator Stavros. Master Prareus is eager to see you. He is just in here, if you would follow¡ª¡± Stavros began, but never quite finished his sentence before Silas¡¯s Hellgun burned a cleanly cauterized hole through his head, the Interrogator¡¯s entire face vanishing in the process.


    ¡°After you,¡± Silas said to Zha.


    ¡°Charmed,¡± Zha replied, and ascended the staircase toward Stavros¡¯s still-standing and still-smoldering corpse. Her killteam followed behind her in lockstep, weapons checking every edge and corner of the scene. ¡°Tech, can your servitors watch the door?¡±


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    ¡°They can, Inquisitor,¡± the Tech-Priest confirmed.


    ¡°Good. Everyone else, with me,¡± Zha commanded, and went into the room Stavros had intended to lead them into. It appeared to have once been a ballroom, yet a few tables and workbenches now dotted its floors, paperwork strewn messily across the lot of the desks. One man sat in isolation at such a desk, clothed only in dark robes. His head was not hidden; he had pale skin, though it had reddened from significant augmetics implanted across his neck and face. Likewise, his hair had been lost some ages ago in favor of further augmetics atop his crown. Oddly, he still had both eyes; one¡ªor both¡ªeyes were commonly traded out in favor of more capable augmetic devices for those with the means to procure such things, and a once-Inquisitor like Prareus could have managed far more than merely that.


    As the quartet entered his room, Prareus leaned in his chair to glance around behind Zha. He then nodded. ¡°Yes, I had assumed you would kill Stavros rather quickly. He always was a suck-up and in my experience, it is those sorts that rarely pose much of a threat. But he was loyal, at least.¡±


    ¡°To you,¡± Zha noted. Prareus smiled and nodded at the implication. Yes, to him. Not the Throne. ¡°Phaenonite.¡±


    ¡°Loyalist.¡±


    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s an insult.¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°Restrain him to his chair,¡± Zha ordered the three of her allies. The trio obeyed without hesitation. Prareus did not appear to resist. Silas stayed behind Prareus. ¡°Sister, would you move the desk aside, please?¡± The Sister did so, shoving the large wooden structure out from between Prareus and Zha with a single hand.


    ¡°Oh, is the little girl from Thantalus going to try to scare me? Is she all grown up into a big, bad Inquisitor?¡± Prareus mocked. ¡°You don¡¯t have the heart, Trantos, for violence.¡±


    ¡°Your information is outdated,¡± Zha replied. ¡°What were you doing in your basement with the Pariahs?¡±


    ¡°Did you like what you saw down there, little girl?¡± Prareus smiled.


    ¡°What were you doing?¡±


    ¡°Did you take a souvenir? We left some out for you to take,¡± Prareus noted.


    ¡°Silas.¡± Silas circled around Prareus before launching a fist into the once-Inquisitor¡¯s gut. Zha had seen Silas hit larger men half as hard as he punched Prareus then, and floor those larger men all the same. Prareus barely reacted to Silas¡¯s attack, save for raising an eyebrow toward Zha, ever-grinning. ¡°Again.¡± This time Silas went for Prareus¡¯s face, and struck him so hard one of his augmetics dislodged from his cheek. Blood began to drip out of it.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s a bit of a pinch,¡± Prareus winced, moving his lower jaw around in circles to try to lodge his augmetic back into his body. He did not succeed.


    ¡°What is your goal here on Canicus?¡± Zha asked him.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m happy to answer that one,¡± Prareus admitted. ¡°Our goal here, on Canicus and elsewhere, is to kill Callant Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°As revenge for killing two of your own,¡± Zha asserted.


    ¡°Please, revenge is simple and idiotic,¡± Prareus shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re Inquisitors, you and I. And he. You should know better.¡±


    ¡°But it is because he killed two of your own,¡± Zha gleamed.


    ¡°Oh, yes. Blackgar is a threat. We¡¯ll give him that. We¡ªour cell, which you already know exists¡ªwe had been doing other things at the time of Hestia Majoris. Some of that took the backburner when we heard the news. We knew Blackgar would know Silverman and Ryke were part of our larger cell. We knew the good, loyal Inquisitor would come for us. And, what, should we have just let him? No, we pulled resources in together. We intend to meet that threat head-on. And for that reason, Callant Blackgar is going to die.¡±


    ¡°Silverman and Ryke were pretty sure they could kill him too,¡± Zha noted.


    ¡°Yes, but they didn¡¯t know him as we do now. We¡¯ve done our research. The great Commissar that was, turned Inquisitor after a tragic psychic¡­accident. We know what he¡¯s capable of. We know how he thinks. We know he exposes a weakness when losing people. We know you do, too. Tell me, how well did you know that little crew of yours on Amnes Minoris?¡± Prareus taunted. Zha almost bit, raising a laspistol between Prareus¡¯s eyes before he could blink. ¡°That well, huh? Oof, pity,¡± Prareus laughed. Zha lowered her pistol slowly, gradually, then shot him four times in the gut.


    As Prareus began to spit up blood, Zha told him, ¡°And I know that you Phaenonites can take a beating. I¡¯ve been looking forward to this, personally. Do you know what Blackgar did to Silverman and Ryke before killing them? Do you know what they were able to survive? I do. And as a savant, I have spent years studying human anatomy. Years studying pain centers and receptors. I can torture you, scum, more severely than Blackgar could ever dream of. Do not make the mistake of assuming I am the little girl you once read about. I am the nightmare that will dissect you alive and put you back together to do it again.¡±


    ¡°You have grown, haven¡¯t you?¡± Prareus wheezed, then managed a dry laugh. ¡°Congratulations, Trantos. I am very proud. But I think you underestimate Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°I could say the same of you.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t underestimate him, and that¡¯s my point,¡± Prareus replied, heaving out a sigh before sitting upright again. ¡°I know Blackgar as well as any of you. Maybe better, even. My entire cell does. We have spent decades engineering the demise of a single man. We have not left that to chance. The great Commissar from Pyrras-3 will die at our hand. We do not underestimate him, but we can make that guarantee. You cannot stop us. For all your brilliance, young woman, you know not how to stop us. And for that, I still do not fear you.¡±


    ¡°You will,¡± Zha assured him. ¡°What was the operation in the basement?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll answer that¡ªI will¡ªif you tell me whether you took a souvenir,¡± Prareus admitted. Zha sighed and rolled her eyes, then revealed the vial of the liquid the Tech-Priest had secured for her. ¡°Excellent. A fine sample.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It has many names, for many worlds have tried to find it. Mercury. Venus. Those are names, mind you, not referring to the planets near Terra. Lye. Stella Signata and Lucifer. Many names, many, many names,¡± Prareus rambled.


    ¡°And what do you call it?¡±


    ¡°Prima Materia.¡±


    ¡°First Matter,¡± Zha translated. Prareus nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t try to understand the implication. What are you using it for?¡±


    ¡°Engineering eternity,¡± Prareus replied. ¡°And through that, annihilating Callant Blackgar. I admit, we had been at this long before Hestia Majoris. Ryke and Silverman were trying their own gambit in that regard before you so rudely interrupted them.¡±


    ¡°And slaughtered them,¡± Zha added.


    ¡°Yes. Quite. But eternity is a useful thing. It would provide ample opportunity to destroy a most troublesome Inquisitor,¡± Prareus explained. ¡°You know, Trantos, you don¡¯t have to die for him. None of you do. All he has to do is set foot on Amnes Minoris and all of this between us will be forgotten.¡±


    ¡°You know I¡¯ll tell him that in my report. You intend to bait him there by threatening our lives. Sinister,¡± Zha noted. ¡°Problem with that plan, however. What happens when he sets foot on the ground with a force that could rival a Sector? Because he will.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he will set foot on Amnes Minoris? Excellent!¡± Prareus laughed. ¡°As many can join him as they want. They¡¯ll die all the same. Well, we plan to take Blackgar¡¯s demise a little more slowly¡ªthat bit may be fueled by vengeance.¡±


    ¡°Sister,¡± Zha commanded, evidently surer of the Sister¡¯s raw strength than Silas¡¯s. Silas backed away knowingly, in time for the Sister to ram her own power-armor-enhanced fist into Prareus¡¯s gut. The blow was so intense that it at least broke the back of Prareus¡¯s chair in the process, sending it careening across the room. Prareus himself fell into a fit of coughing, most of which involved a great deal of blood and spittle between gasps for air. ¡°You brought the Pariahs in from beyond Ixaniad. From where? How? Why here?¡±


    Much of the jolly, mocking tone proved to have vacated Prareus¡¯s lungs in his response. ¡°I think not, young Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°Sister.¡±


    ¡°Frigging everywhere!¡± Prareus shouted in response. ¡°Our reach spans Ixaniad, Calixis, and Askellion. You think a punch from a Sororitas somehow gives you more power than I wield? I thought you savants were supposed to be of heightened intelligence,¡± Prareus spat. During his boasting, the Sister, having received the earlier command, looked to Zha. Zha tolerated a moment of Prareus¡¯s ego-stroking before nodding to the Sister, who proceeded to crush the Phaenonite¡¯s face inward.


    ¡°Phaenonite, you may think you wield some special power. And perhaps you have. But the moment we walked into the room it vanished from your grasp. I have something which I believe will convince you with greater surety that your cooperation with me is in your best interest from here on out. You see, Blackgar wants you alive, yes. But he did not stipulate whether you should be in one piece. Tech-Priest,¡± Zha ordered.


    ¡°Do your worst,¡± Prareus growled, blood drooling from his mouth as his head sagged forward between the two Inquisitors. The Tech-Priest took the Sister¡¯s place at Prareus¡¯s side.


    Zha looked to the Tech-Priest. ¡°Take his eye. The right one,¡± Zha commanded. The Tech-Priest obeyed with verbal silence, but otherwise released the noises of whirring servos and firing pistons. The Priest lifted Prareus¡¯s brutalized face up with the Servo-Arm on his back, while his hands shifted between various surgical devices.


    ¡°Eternity,¡± Prareus hissed, panting. ¡°Is without Callant Blackgar¡¯s allies. Eternity is without Callant Blackgar. Eternity is without the weakness of your Imperium,¡± he chanted. And then the chanting fell to agonized screams.


    ¡°Actually, Tech-Priest¡ªerr, sorry, is the eye still in?¡± Zha interrupted. Prareus was still screaming.


    ¡°It is,¡± the Priest reported.


    ¡°In that case, leave it in, but burn the socket out, down to its nerve endings,¡± Zha requested. The screams reached new heights. Eventually, Zha winced, for a moment hearing Hans Okustin¡¯s agony within that of Prareus. A quick tonal analysis helped her spot the vocal differences, however, and those differences gave her the assurance she needed to tolerate the extreme suffering unfolding at her word. Even as the Tech-Priest eventually stepped away from Prareus, the job having concluded, the screaming continued. It took some time to lessen before falling to whimpering. ¡°Why Ixaniad?¡± Zha asked him after a time.


    Prareus had no witty response, for he had no response at all. For a time, it seemed as though he had been broken. But Zha knew better.


    ¡°I asked you a question, heretic,¡± she pushed.


    ¡°Only Blackgar¡­only Blackgar had to die,¡± Prareus muttered. ¡°I do not fault you, Sister or Priest. Not even you, Scion,¡± he explained, and then heaved in a gasp of air as he lifted his head up to face Zha. One of his eyes was a scorched, welted mass of incinerated flesh. ¡°But you will die for that, Zha Trantos.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m quivering in fear,¡± she replied dryly. ¡°Why Ixaniad?¡±


    ¡°Why Ixaniad? Because Ixaniad has the most ample resources to us. Such immediate proximity to the beautiful Eye of Terror while still being near the galactic rim. We are in the shadow, here, of the baleful Emperor¡¯s Light. Here, the gaze of the Carrion God is at its absolute weakest. Here, your beloved Imperium is most ready to be toppled. Here will be your grave and our divine ascension into eternity to take the Emperor¡¯s place once and for all,¡± Prareus explained.


    ¡°Sister,¡± Zha began, turning to her heaviest muscle. ¡°Beat some sensible faith into him. Or shut him up. I think we¡¯re done here, for now.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure, Inquisitor,¡± the Sister replied.


    As Zha turned to leave, Prareus called out to her from the shadow of the Sister that descended upon him. ¡°You had a smile once, Trantos!¡± Zha turned to him, and he grinned. ¡°Blackgar described it as being most enviable. A lovely thing, I think it was. I do wonder what it will look like without any skin on your face. We¡¯ll see, won¡¯t we?¡± In response, Zha nodded to the Sister, who immediately got to beating the heretic into the ground.


    Zha waved Silas over with a flick of her finger, who greeted her by saying, ¡°You did have a nice smile once upon a time, you know. But now you¡¯re almost as terrifying as our boss.¡±


    ¡°He¡ªPrareus¡ªjust revealed he knows more than he should. There¡¯s a leak in Quintus somewhere,¡± Zha explained. ¡°Enviable. That is the word the boss has used to describe my smile, but only in the report of our operation in Abseradon. Stealth¡¯s new recruit¡­I don¡¯t trust him. I don¡¯t trust her. I don¡¯t trust anyone that wasn¡¯t there with us.¡±


    ¡°I can put them down,¡± Silas offered.


    ¡°No. Command-1 and Command-2 are the only people who can vet Stealth members, which means one of them vetted Carmichael. They trust her. I trust their judgment. And she trusts¡­Harr?¡± Silas nodded. ¡°Watch them. Give Mr. Harr the chance. I will consult Mr. Blackgar myself¡ªI must deliver this sample and my report to him, personally, anyways. I also need to deliver Prareus. You¡¯re like family to me, Mr. Hager. So watch yourself, too,¡± Zha explained.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell an Inquisitor what to do, but look out for yourself too, would you? You¡¯re starting to sound like the boss, and not in a good way,¡± Silas laughed. Zha managed to chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m serious though. Especially if you¡¯re bringing that piece of voidshit on your journey with you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Hager. I¡¯ll be fine, but I appreciate your concern.¡±

 Chapter 35 - Echoshroud

    The shaking in Jack Harr¡¯s hands was not immediate, but by the time the lander had arrived to scoop the true Inquisitor and her retinue from the ground, it had already begun. Harr thought it was subtle enough to go unnoticed by those around him, as a great deal of attention was being given to Lexam, the veteran guardsman who had been hit by lasfire. He was unaware, however, of just how keen Stealth¡¯s and Intel¡¯s eyes were. Regardless, they did not bring it up with him, at least not right away.


    The shaking continued as the lander lifted the group¡ªand the Chimera they had used to get to Prareus¡¯s fortress¡ªinto the air, but it paused momentarily upon exiting the atmosphere. Harr had been to space only twice before; once to enter into Prareus¡¯s employ, and again to be deployed to his homeworld of Canicus. Both times were awe-inspiring. This third occasion was no different, and as the horizon of Canicus surrendered to the empty blackness of an endless abyss, Harr felt a bit small. He felt a lot smaller when great lights raced past the lander toward Canicus¡ªlance strikes from a vessel many times larger than Prareus¡¯s fortress. As Stealth had suggested, Prareus¡¯s fortress, and the surrounding area involving the heretic¡¯s forward detachments, was utterly glassed over by the impossible might provided by the God-Emperor¡¯s servants. Harr turned his view away from Canicus to spy a dark shadow eclipsing a sun behind its bulk. The only visible details upon the vessel were revealed by the glimmer of lancefire, but those details included a great familiar ¡®I.¡¯ This was an Inquisition vessel. It dawned on Harr, then, that the vessel he was taken to under Prareus¡¯s watch was neither as grand nor in possession of such an ¡®I.¡¯


    ¡°Echoshroud,¡± Carmichael whispered to Harr, suddenly standing next to him. Harr looked at her in utter confusion; she could have said any conceivable combination of syllables and would not have confused him more than she had. ¡°The ship¡¯s name. Echoshroud. It¡¯s the chief vessel for Tactical-1.¡±


    ¡°Hager,¡± Harr suggested, and earned a reluctant nod from Carmichael.


    ¡°My mistake in revealing his name to you, but yes,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°What¡­what now?¡± Harr stammered, still in awe of his surroundings. Luckily for him, he thought, the awe continued to suspend the shaking in his hands.


    Carmichael spun on her heels and leaned against the wall of the lander next to Harr, adjacent to the viewport Harr had been looking out from, crossing her arms. Even as his infiltrator, even as his betrayer, and even as his captor, Harr could not help but find her beautiful. That was probably the point, he thought. She was still in her tight, black bodyglove, a combat suit concealing her flesh but not her faith-testing form. Her fair skin revealed itself only above her shoulders, and even then, her hair had matted down in sweat¡ªhers¡ªand blood¡ªnot hers. It had also dirtied and darkened further from the sandstorm. But that her beauty had survived the tumult of the day somehow allowed it to reinforce itself, making her more attractive still. Carmichael¡¯s ever-keen, crimson eyes noted that Harr¡¯s dilated in attraction, and she managed a sly grin in response. ¡°Now, Jack, you decide your own fate,¡± she shrugged, still grinning.


    ¡°As in, join or die?¡± he suggested, pulling his eyes off her and trying to focus on the Echoshroud. But Carmichael remained firmly¡ªin more ways than one¡ªwithin his periphery.


    ¡°Those are two options, yes,¡± she admitted. ¡°Vast oversimplifications, but yes.¡±


    ¡°Is there a third?¡±


    ¡°Roll the dice on whether you know too much to be let loose. I¡¯d bet not, personally. The boss has shown some mercy in that regard,¡± Carmichael noted.


    ¡°You talk like you know him,¡± Harr grinned, quoting Hager.


    ¡°You talk like I don¡¯t,¡± she repeated with a laugh. ¡°The Inquisition¡¯s duties inevitably spill over into civilian life. Some Inquisitors would gladly purge civilians that knew of their activities. But not the boss, not if it can be avoided,¡± Carmichael explained, then turned to look out the window as well. The Echoshroud was the only thing in view. They would be landing within its bays soon. ¡°So, you can take your chances there. Or if you¡¯re too guilty about leaving Millart and Burkowitz and the others, we can help you join them. Neither are the fate I want for you, of course.¡±


    ¡°And what fate do you want for me, Bliss?¡± Harr sighed, and tapped his forehead against the viewport. It had been a terribly long day.


    Noting that, Carmichael put a hand on his shoulder and nodded. ¡°Presently? For you to rest. We¡¯ll speak more of it tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°The Inquisition can wait until tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°The Inquisition is hardly concerned with you alone, Jack Harr,¡± Carmichael chuckled. ¡°I can bargain a night¡¯s rest for you from Hager.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s good. I¡¯ve been meaning to close my eyes,¡± Harr admitted, then did just that.


    ***


    When Harr¡¯s eyes next opened, he was no longer on the lander looking out from one of its viewports. He was, instead, in a medicae unit being tended to by some servitor staff. He opened his mouth to speak, but a hollow droning from one such servitor cut him off. ¡®Subject JH-376 resumes consciousness. Directive: Notify personnel [Restricted] and Tactical-1. JH-376, you are aboard vessel: Echoshroud. Do you require immediate replacement of bodily facilities?¡¯


    ¡°What? No!¡± Harr shouted in reply. Or tried to. But even his shouting came out as a hoarse gasp for air. ¡°I could use a glass of¡ª¡±


    ¡®Subject JH-376 declines surgical operation. This unit will retire to standby.¡¯


    And with that, the servitor that had greeted him silenced itself and stomped off from attending to his unit. Others remained, but they paid him no mind save for tending to their duties. ¡°¡­water,¡± Harr muttered. He sat up and looked around, finding himself utterly alone, save for the servo-skulls and barely-humanoid devices tending to his medicae unit or its auxiliary equipment. Like most Imperial structures, the room he was in was adorned with religious symbols and gothic architecture¡ªgreat statues and historical mosaics lined the walls of the cramped medicae facility. Even given the whirring motors of the servitors, it was quiet. Far quieter, even, than the lander had been in the desolate space that had carried him to the Echoshroud. In the silence he then resided in, he closed his eyes and chose to pray, which, he considered, was responsible for putting him in his current situation in the first place.


    He existed in a state of prayer-induced solace for a few minutes before being disturbed by the approach of two pairs of footsteps, one heavy, one light. Harr knew their owners in an instant, yet did not immediately open his eyes to greet them, which prompted Hager¡¯s comment to be made: ¡°Great, he¡¯s asleep again. Or the servitor¡¯s glitching out again.¡±


    ¡°Or neither,¡± Harr shrugged, opening his eyes before furrowing his brow toward Hager. ¡°Do you ever take that helmet off?¡± To that, Carmichael¡ªstanding next to Hager, who was still in the same carapace armor he had been in on the ground of Canicus¡ªcould not hold her laugh in.


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    ¡°No, he doesn¡¯t,¡± Carmichael answered, still chuckling.


    ¡°Not in the presence of once-traitors to the Imperium,¡± Hager growled, though Harr felt Hager¡¯s ire was more directed toward Carmichael than himself. ¡°On that note, Stealth told me she informed you of your options here. Rejoin the Emperor¡¯s Light, die in His Shadow, or be let loose to find another path. What will it be?¡±


    Harr nodded before pausing for a moment to recollect his thoughts. When he opened his mouth to speak, he found his voice all but missing, and not for lack of trying¡ªhe was still too parched. ¡°You had sounded dehydrated. You should have told one of these servitors to fetch you a glass of water,¡± Carmichael spoke for him, then motioned for one such servitor to do so. That took only a few moments, during which time Hager¡¯s las-like eyes beamed ever onward toward Harr, emotionless within the white backdrop of the painted skull upon his helmet.


    When Harr had had a drop to drink, he cleared his throat, then at last answered Hager¡¯s question with another: ¡°What would service to your Inquisitor require?¡± Carmichael grinned at his response.


    ¡°Depends on the nature of your service,¡± Hager replied. ¡°Operatives answering to me¡ªthat is, our Tactical unit¡ªneed merely receive authorization from me to do so. Likewise for the few Strike teams we have aboard this vessel; you would only need authorization from the individual unit leaders. But things are more complicated if you intend to follow Carmichael around. Stealth operatives do not have underlings. You would need to be cleared by the boss. You could be given probationary status under her watch, which I imagine is what she desires. Other units have since dispersed; the Intel, Tech, and Command representatives you encountered earlier have departed with your former heretic-Inquisitor in tow. I am hesitant to outline the existence of other units within our organization to you, but will if you reveal an aptitude for them.¡±


    ¡°An aptitude?¡±


    ¡°You have reportedly already demonstrated capable combat experience. Hosku and Enos were most impressed with how you carried yourself in the heat of battle,¡± Hager began. Enos had been the third Guardsman veteran that had joined them in assaulting Prareus¡¯s fortress, with Lexam having not been mentioned in Hager¡¯s comment.


    ¡°As was I,¡± Carmichael interjected with a grin.


    Hager ignored her. ¡°You could, in accordance with that experience, fit in well with any of the Strike teams aboard this vessel. Note, however, that all Strike teams aboard this vessel have been delegated to my command for future operations you would be likely to see. I am no Inquisitor myself, but I have been appointed by the boss to oversee and organize operations across several teams of different units of our organization. In the absence of an Inquisitor, I am your SRO. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°I do, sir,¡± Harr nodded.


    ¡°Winning points already,¡± Hager replied, his tone improving.


    ¡°Not all Inquisitors are necessarily militant. But the boss very much is,¡± Carmichael explained. ¡°As a result, our organizational structure, terminologies, and tendencies are comparably battle-ready. As a former soldier, you may find familiar purchase within our ranks. Many of our staff are veterans of the Astra Militarum, Navis Imperialis, or Schola Progenium. You would fit right in.¡±


    ¡°I confess I am a bit confused,¡± Harr started, earning a quizzical look from both Carmichael and Hager, though Hager¡¯s was indicated only by the tilt of a his otherwise-expressionless head. ¡°How important am I that you¡¯re trying to sell me on your operation?¡±


    ¡°You as an individual?¡± Hager asked, then shrugged. ¡°Insignificant. But bodies add up. If you are as Carmichael says you are¡ªfaithful, loyal, capable¡ªI would not turn such a recruit down. The purging of heretics requires men and women of steeled minds and relentless hearts to fulfill. Can you be relentless, Jack Harr?¡±


    ¡°I can, sir,¡± Harr nodded.


    ¡°Then the Inquisition has use for you yet,¡± Hager explained. ¡°But I ask again: how may we use you best?¡±


    Harr thought for a good while, then. He thought about his now-incinerated team on Canicus. About the Pariahs in Prareus¡¯s basement. About his faith. And, though he tried not to look at her, he thought a lot about Carmichael. He thought of her as his captor, his betrayer, and his tempter. But, he realized, he had not thought about her as his liberator, nor as his friend¡ªnot since her subterfuge was revealed, anyways. It dawned on him that he did not really have any idea what she was like¡ªthat was the point, after all. But she had gone out of her way to spare and save him; she had trusted him on the battlefield after firing the Manticore; she had helped him through the darkness emitted by the Shadestalkers; she had gotten him a day¡¯s rest and medical attention; and, most importantly, along the way she had tried to offer him comfort and calmness. Were she merely the terrible things Harr had begun to consider her as, she would not have done any of that.


    Harr realized, then, that Bliss Carmichael at the very least liked him. And he admitted to himself that he was utterly infatuated with her. He hadn¡¯t a clue about infiltration or subterfuge, but maybe, under her tutelage, he could learn. ¡°I¡¯d like to learn from Bliss, if that¡¯s at all possible,¡± he finally answered Hager. Carmichael grinned again.


    ¡°It is. Please confirm for me that you understand that, again, you would operate within the Stealth unit as a probationary member, and that eventually you will need to meet the boss that he might decide what to do with you,¡± Hager explained. ¡°Also, again, confirm you acknowledge that for the immediate future, Stealth or not, you answer to me while aboard this vessel.¡±


    ¡°I understand, sir,¡± Harr nodded.


    ¡°Then for that, I welcome you to the Echoshroud, and, pending your probation, to the 9<sup>th</sup> and Final¡ªour regiment¡ªas a whole. This vessel is captained by Captain Rhauss Grimm. You can, of course, find him on the bridge. See him, myself, or Carmichael if you need anything for your quarters. Speaking of which, Carmichael, he¡¯s all yours. Show him to his room,¡± Hager ordered, then nodded to Harr before turning around and marching away. His helmet remained on even still.


    ¡°No, his helmet never comes off,¡± Carmichael suggested when Hager had left earshot. ¡°He is a remarkable soldier, though, even among his kind. Probably the best on the ship. Enough about Silas Hager, however. You¡ªgood choice,¡± she smiled, winking to Harr.


    ¡°Why me, Bliss?¡± Harr asked.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t I answered this question already?¡± she said, tone as dry as Harr¡¯s voice. ¡°Faith. Duty. Et cetera. You are a model soldier.¡±


    ¡°So were the others.¡±


    ¡°Not so much as you. And I certainly wasn¡¯t going to try to spare Kilgar,¡± she rolled her eyes. ¡°Why not you, Jack?¡±


    ¡°Why anyone? And why be so¡­kind to me on the way?¡±


    ¡°Kind?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Well, much of the Imperium employs fear in its recruitment strategies. Inquisitors, Commissars, other propagandists. Fear is effective for controlling masses, but not individuals. Fear makes individuals unpredictable. You should be taking notes, by the way¡ªthis is important stuff for a Stealth operative to know,¡± she grinned, wagging a finger toward Harr like an instructor chiding a child. ¡°Kindness, however, wins over the hearts of those more receptive to it. Like yours. Kindness is as much a strategy as any other. The boss knows this. To not acknowledge and employ any and every strategy is to leave oneself vulnerable to failure, and failure is the most intolerable result in our great Imperium, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± Carmichael suggested. Harr nodded. ¡°As for why recruit anyone,¡± she began, then shrugged dismissively. ¡°Bothered Hager, at least, so that¡¯s a win.¡±


    ¡°You two don¡¯t get along,¡± Harr inferred.


    ¡°Oh, no, we get along great! He doesn¡¯t trust me is all. I know it, and he knows I know it. But he trusts the boss, and the boss put me here, so he plays along. He says I¡¯m just like Logi-1, but with less trustworthiness and with more willingness to puff out my chest. I haven¡¯t met Logi-1, but I gather she was on Hestia Majoris with Hager and the boss, which set this whole ordeal in motion, and made them all basically like family to each other. Anyways, as to recruiting anyone¡ªyou or otherwise¡ªI figure one Inquisitor¡ªlike the boss¡ªgoing up against other Inquisitors¡ªlike Prareus¡ªcould use all the help he could get. There are worse recruits than you, Jack Harr,¡± Carmichael explained.


    ¡°Bliss¡­,¡± Harr began, then paused. She waited patiently for his question, hooking her hands behind her back. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    She thought for a moment, debating on how much to say, then shrugged. ¡°As you¡¯re my probationary subordinate, I suppose it can¡¯t hurt to tell you. I am Iblis Kyle. Not too far off from Bliss Carmichael, is it?¡± she asked with a laugh. ¡°You should continue to address me as the alias I used on Canicus. That is as the rest of the ship knows me.¡±


    ¡°But the boss knows you as Iblis Kyle?¡± Harr suggested. Carmichael nodded. ¡°What were you before he found you¡ªor you found him? You¡¯re a newer recruit of his than Hager or some of the other senior officers,¡± Harr explained. Carmichael nodded again, but her expression stiffened.


    ¡°I had already been serving the Inquisition in some capacity. The boss knows this; it¡¯s how we met. He does not know my previous role in the Inquisition, and neither will you. Don¡¯t ask me again. Understood?¡± Harr nodded. A grin returned to her face. ¡°Great. Then at your ready, how about we find you a room to call your own for the foreseeable future, eh? Admittedly, crew quarters are somewhat like closets, but it¡¯ll be your closet, at least.¡±

 Chapter 36 - Ratling

    Jack Harr awoke the next day within his closet-like room to the blaring sound of sirens and a slightly-garbled automated messaging system roaring out over the ship¡¯s vox. ¡®Attention all crew: Warp Translation imminent. Gellar Field engaging momentarily. Astropathic services have been disengaged. Please submit to your local Cult Mechanicus Priest for protective rites. Report any anomalous disturbances to Deck Terminus. The Emperor protects. Attention all crew: Warp Translation imminent¡­¡¯


    There was, then, a knock on the door of his room. ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± Carmichael called to him. Harr rose from his bed to answer her, finding her in garments somehow more provocative than any he had yet seen her in: a black, sleeveless, cropped top and a dark red skirt that barely reached her knees. Her hair had been tied behind her head more cleanly than on the grounds of Canicus. ¡°Morning. Didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be leaving so soon for another op, but you should get a bite to eat before we do. Have you ever Translated before?¡±


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t,¡± Harr shook his head. At that, Carmichael grabbed one of his hands and pulled him from his room, closing the door behind them. ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± he asked with a yawn, still waking up despite the continuing vox sirens.


    ¡°Breakfast,¡± she replied, grinning. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯ll be better than Corpse-starch, and you¡¯ll want a filled stomach for Translation.¡±


    ¡°Again, never done it before, but I rather assumed an empty stomach would better keep from getting sick from such a journey,¡± Harr suggested.


    ¡°Sickness is a far better outcome than the alternative,¡± Carmichael shook her head.


    ¡°What alternative?¡±


    ¡°Being possessed or otherwise psychically destroyed because your will weakened from your own hunger. Now come on,¡± she insisted, pulling him along at a brisker pace. That jutted him into a greater waking state.


    ¡°Does that happen often?¡± Harr asked in a squeak.


    ¡°No, but the possibility exists. The Gellar Field should hold. But in the case that it doesn¡¯t, you¡¯ll need a strong will, and for that you¡¯ll want a filled stomach,¡± Carmichael explained. ¡°Down this hall.¡± She led him through a maze of dimly lit corridors throughout the Echoshroud before the pair finally arrived at a mess hall. ¡°Sit,¡± she told him, and all but forced him to such a position at a steel table. Harr put his head in his hands and yawned, wanting to fall asleep again, while in the meantime Carmichael left to procure him some food. The journey from his room to the mess hall was as a blur, and he recalled no distinguishing features about any twist or turn Carmichael had dragged him through. He would need to ask her for a second such dragging when he was more awake.


    Harr¡¯s ears caught a whisper of a familiar voice, but he was too out of sorts to place the name. ¡°That¡¯s him.¡±


    A gruff and thick voice followed, both having originated from Harr¡¯s left. ¡°Ah, so you¡¯re the new guy, eh? The Whiteshield?¡± Harr pulled his face from his hands and saw the owner of the second voice. A larger man, with a rounder stomach, than any he had yet encountered aboard the Echoshroud stood over him. The man was dressed in black fatigues that bore the Inquisitorial ¡®I¡¯ which seemed to stalk Harr around as of late. Behind him stood Enos, in desert camo more befitting of the terrain of Canicus, though it was that very terrain the Echoshroud would soon be departing from. Other Guardsmen stood behind the pair, though they were more casually dressed, including a diminutive fellow who stood upon a steel table adjacent to Harr¡¯s.


    Harr nodded to the large man.


    ¡°Hosku and Enos tell some big tales of you fighting shoulder to shoulder with `em at the Manticore last night. Name¡¯s Elraad,¡± the man said, extending a hand toward Harr. Harr took it, and was promptly shaken into a vastly more awakened state. ¡°Professionally, I¡¯m also Strike-1-4, Sergeant of the crew you were partially introduced to yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Jack Harr. Pleased to meet you. It was an honor fighting alongside them. Hosku and Enos¡­what about Lexam?¡± Harr asked.


    ¡°Oxygen deprivation from exasperated exposure within the sandstorm. Didn¡¯t make it,¡± Elraad explained.


    ¡°Oh, frig,¡± Harr frowned, cold sweat forming at once. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°It happens, kid,¡± Enos piped up from behind Elraad. Elraad nodded.


    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t sweat it, kid. Lexam was a good man, who died serving the¡ªThrone! Carmichael, put some clothes on!¡± Elraad shouted as Carmichael returned. She placed a plate of food in front of Harr before sitting atop a table adjacent to Harr¡¯s on his right, crossing her legs and leaning back upon hands outstretched. ¡°What, the temptress is waiting on a Whiteshield, now?¡±


    ¡°Temptress? That¡¯s a good one,¡± Carmichael grinned. Then, to Harr, said, ¡°I see you¡¯ve met the other jarheads. Jack, Elraad,¡± she introduced them.


    ¡°We had already gotten further than that,¡± Elraad growled. ¡°Surely you have something better to do than bothering us.¡±


    ¡°Surely you have something better to do than bothering Jack Harr,¡± Carmichael returned.


    ¡°Is anyone really bothering anyone?¡± Harr asked, turning all eyes on him for a moment. It did not last. When the staredown resumed between the two parties, Harr turned to his newly-acquired breakfast. A Grox-burger, complete with Belly-Churn cheese and even bread! Far better and more nutritious than Corpse-starch.


    Elraad pointed a flattened hand toward Carmichael before gesturing to Harr¡¯s breakfast, which the Whiteshield was already filling his mouth with. ¡°He¡¯s my recruit, Elraad, not yours. Too late to sway him now,¡± Carmichael shook her head.


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    ¡°In that case, welcome to the 9<sup>th</sup>, but be careful with that one, kid; she plays rougher than she lets on,¡± Elraad warned Harr, taking a seat at the table to Harr¡¯s left. The entourage of Guardsmen silently, orderly followed suit, save for the shorter man still standing upon the table, who hopped off said-table in pursuit of his own breakfast.


    ¡°And don¡¯t let his size fool you, Jack; Elraad is a lot softer than he looks,¡± Carmichael replied with a chuckle.


    ¡°Were you two once a¡ª¡± Harr started, but was met with a snorting, mutual ¡®No!¡¯ from both Elraad and Carmichael.


    ¡°He wishes!¡± Carmichael added, now in a fit of laughter.


    ¡°No, Carmichael, I really don¡¯t,¡± Elraad shook his head. ¡°She used me as her boyfriend to put up a cover for an operation. I have since defined clearer limits with Strike-1 and Tactical-1 insofar as working with Stealth operatives goes. That thing next to you that calls herself a lady is anything but. Never drop your guard around her, lest she dig her talons into you.¡±


    Harr looked to Carmichael, as though expecting a witty response. She shrugged and shook her head. ¡°No, he¡¯s right,¡± she admitted. ¡°Throne, Jack, you know that better than anyone here,¡± she offered.


    ¡°Oh yeah? What¡¯d the siren do to this poor kid then, eh?¡± Elraad asked.


    ¡°Incinerated his former squadron before his very eyes after using him as my cover to put that fate in motion,¡± Carmichael explained with a casual shrug.


    ¡°Throne, woman, have you no limits?¡± Elraad shouted, aghast.


    ¡°I like to think not.¡±


    The group sat in silence for a few moments. Harr had stopped eating. Carmichael realized that she may have downplayed her actions a hair too much in Harr¡¯s vicinity, and so sat in contemplative silence beside her own ego. All of this silence was broken, however, with the metal clang! of the shorter man dropping his plate of food onto a table to Harr¡¯s left before taking up residence atop it once more. ¡°Things got solemn while I was gone,¡± the man noted.


    ¡°Carmichael has a habit of managing that,¡± Elraad sighed.


    ¡°True, but at least she has great tits,¡± the man replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m right here,¡± she frowned, but blushed all the same.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    Elraad shook his head for a moment, then rose from his table to sit next to Harr. ¡°Tell me about your squadmates,¡± Elraad requested of Harr.


    Harr shook his head. ¡°Frankly, sir, I¡¯d rather not. I know the point of it, your request. Maybe some other time,¡± he replied.


    Elraad made a low musing sound, then said, ¡°I had known Lexam for nine years. Apparently that¡¯s not a long time in the Inquisition, but it is for us Guardsman, eh? Even so, once you hit the Inquisition, the battles¡­the accolades¡­they all sorta blend together. A Veteran of a dozen battles is merely that¡ªa singular statistic in a sea of Billions of Veterans of dozens of battles. I couldn¡¯t tell you Lexam¡¯s pre-Inquisitorial history¡ªI knew it once, but time is not kind to similar stories. But in the Inquisition, he stood out as a fine soldier. Welcome to the Inquisition, lad. Your service here will do your former squadmates proud.¡±


    Harr opened his mouth to speak, but the short man who had just sat down with his breakfast jumped into the conversation first. ¡°Or they¡¯ll realize you¡¯re as expendable as all the rest of us to the Inquisitor,¡± he interjected dryly.


    ¡°Jethro!¡± Elraad barked at him.


    ¡°What? Better it hits him sooner rather than later, no?¡± the man¡ªJethro¡ªshrugged. ¡°Look, kid¡ªdo you know what I am?¡±


    ¡°I have some idea,¡± Harr nodded. A Ratling. A mutie. Harr had served with some in the Guard, but had not seen a single sign of mutants in Prareus¡¯s service.


    ¡°And do you know anything about our commander, the Inquisitor?¡± Jethro asked. Harr shook his head. ¡°Well here¡¯s some info for ya¡¯: He, and we by extension, operate as part of Ordo Hereticus. Or-do Hair-et-ic-us. Heretic hunters. Most stringent of the bunch. You know what Imperial doctrine thinks of the likes of me? I¡¯m autocannon fodder. And if you¡¯re here on my level, you¡¯re autocannon fodder. Accept it while you can, or be thrown out to pasture later.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Carmichael whispered, barely audible. She had hung her head low since having flaunted her ego, and lowered it further during Jethro¡¯s speech, but had continued to hold the rest of her body as provocatively as she had been.


    Harr looked to Elraad for a response, but the Sergeant¡¯s face had stiffened and looked at Carmichael with the slightest hint of genuine scorn. Jethro, however, said what Harr read from Elraad¡¯s face: ¡°Ain¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Carmichael declared, and hopped off the table to stand. She began to cross her arms, hesitating a moment in a debate over whether to cross them under her chest to lift and push her chest outward, or over her chest to keep it from distracting those before her. She chose over. ¡°A million souls die in our Imperium every second. Each and every one is a tragedy, and each and every one, be they faithful and valorous, are guided to the afterlife by our Great and Beneficent Emperor. Your lives matter to the Imperium. Your Inquisitor knows this. And if you serve him with faith and valor, he will visit the Imperium¡¯s fury upon our foes to maintain your active service. I understand the pain of Lexam¡¯s loss, and I know for some of you that pain may have dulled as it has been one of many. But I will not hear the Ordo besmirched, nor I will decline to stand to our Inquisitor¡¯s defense. Shame on those among you that fail to join me.¡±


    Harr noted, then, that this was the first glimpse of the real Carmichael¡ªrather, the real Kyle¡ªthat he had ever seen. Though the vision of her figure spoke only in hushed whispers, the tone of her voice revealed volumes about her true nature. She had rebuked the group with defiant but suppressed rage. She possessed a capacity for solemnity well in excess of anything that Bliss Carmichael had ever evidenced, even in the heat of battle at the Manticore. Dwelling beneath her fair skin and shapely curves waited a truer warrior than any in the mess hall that called themselves a Guardsman. And, most notably to Harr, her wizened yet dogmatic tone hinted that she was far older than her youthful appearance let on.


    ¡°Decent speech,¡± Jethro admitted with his mouth full of his own Grox burger. ¡°Forgive me if I still have my doubts about my worth to the Inquisition.¡±


    ¡°I shall not. Doubt is the avenue to weakness, and if you are weak, you are correct¡ªyour worth to the Inquisition is middling,¡± Carmichael shot back. ¡°Jack, what say you?¡±


    ¡°I¡­,¡± Harr stammered, still stuck in mild reverence of Carmichael¡¯s character. ¡°I suppose I concur with your assessment of doubt, but blind faith is a road to corruption, as I very nearly demonstrated.¡±


    ¡°And do you think you are mere fodder for the Inquisition?¡±


    Harr thought on it for a moment. That pause gave Carmichael some worry. And while not disastrous, his response, ultimately, did not reaffirm her spirits. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I am. Probationary, right?¡±


    ¡°No one is on probation to later become fodder, Jack,¡± she replied with a soft smile.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair,¡± Harr admitted. ¡°I suppose, then, I am what I always have been¡ªa young, impressionably-na?ve aspirant in service to the Throne.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s all you need to be,¡± Carmichael declared, taking a seat to Harr¡¯s right¡ªElraad still sat to his left¡ªand throwing an arm over his shoulders just in time for a shudder to pulse through the whole of the Echoshroud.


    ¡®Attention all crew: Gellar Field engaged. Warp Translation engaging now. Report any anomalous activity to Deck Terminus. Your faith is your shield. The Emperor protects.¡¯

 Chapter 37 - Underhive

    Most of the crew did not know of their destination. It seemed Carmichael did, but she was not telling; something about not wanting the Warp to hear it. Surely Hager, the ship¡¯s captain, and their navigators knew where they were going, though.


    The journey took a month. This was, Harr came to understand, decent time. He also learned from Carmichael that, in her opinion, their Inquisitor¡¯s vessels were strangely efficient when it came to Warp travel. Harr did not know the slightest thing about Warp travel, so he could not comment on it, other than to ask how Carmichael did. She brushed such questions off, as ever she did when at risk of revealing any hint of her past.


    Within that month¡¯s timeframe, Harr and Carmichael grew close. Or, closer. Harr slowly but surely got a bit of a feel for the woman that was Iblis Kyle, and he was mostly confident that that she was at least a little bit interested in him. What he did not, could not, and would not know, however, was that Iblis Kyle had found it within herself to enjoy Jack Harr¡¯s company somehow more than he did hers. For the sake of her duty, though, she could not admit it to anyone, and barely even admitted it to herself. For her, their being a duo, then, was a guilty pleasure; one which she felt, but did not know, that her boss might permit. But for the time being, Iblis Kyle needed to remain as Bliss Carmichael.


    Carmichael trained Harr in a variety of ways. Subterfuge and deception, certainly. She reinforced and improved upon his hand-to-hand combat knowledge, and also provided him with a tour of the bigger and better toys available to the Inquisition that made the cheap lasrifles provided to the Guard actually look like toys. A month in the Warp provided ample time for the duo to deflect off of and grow alongside each other; Carmichael molded Harr into just the agent she needed for her next operation.


    What she did not, could not, and would not know, however, was that Jack Harr was lying to her as she had him.


    ***


    Upon their arrival over the yellow-green world of Skardak¡¯s Reach, which was, as Hager put it, ¡°Another damn Hive World,¡± the Echoshroud began immediate communication with a Planetary Landing Port. It would soon be revealed to Jack Harr, however, that that communication did not include the detail that their vessel belonged to the Inquisition. That was immediately perplexing to the young aspirant of the Stealth unit. But when Hager and Carmichael pulled him and some members of the other teams aboard the vessel into a briefing for their next operation, all became clear.


    The gathering was large. It was funny, to Harr, how many faces he still did not recognize. Everyone was grouped in an auspex center, with visualizations of the planet, the ship, other ships in orbit around the planet, and Harr-didn¡¯t-know-what-else stationed throughout the room. Ship staff and tech-adepts tended to those auspex readings, while in the main center of the room a platform had been erected for Hager and Carmichael to stand on. Before the platform a red carpet with gold tassels was laid out, with an Inquisitorial ¡®I¡¯ barely visible in an off-color crimson across the carpet¡¯s full form. Hager and Carmichael¡¯s audience knelt upon that carpet, Harr included.


    ¡°Alright everyone, short and sweet as I can,¡± Hager called out when the full group had assembled. ¡°We are about to engage in an undercover non-battleground op. But don¡¯t be fooled¡ªthe risks down on the surface of the Reach are just as deadly as on the frontlines of a warzone. We normally don¡¯t leave our operations to volunteers, but given the nature of this situation, we decided it would be right to give people a choice, provided enough of you are foolish enough to go along with our plan. Stealth?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Carmichael nodded, and stepped forward to address the group herself. She handled an auspex display to focus in on a particular Hive City of the world below. ¡°So, as many of you probably know from whispered rumors, our organization¡¯s ultimate goal is taking Amnes Minoris. But we don¡¯t yet have the intel requisite for doing so. That¡¯s our op¡ªintel gathering. The plan to do this is unsavory: go undercover as an up-and-coming Underhive Gang, interact with other Gangs that do inter-system dealings and move product to or from Amnes Minoris, and learn what we can about their clients and the world¡¯s status from them. I¡¯ll be blunt: what we¡¯ll need to be doing is not strictly legal outside the Inquisition. You may be asked to do things you feel violate your personal code of honor or other beliefs. If you volunteer to assume such an identity, you must be willing to endure those violations without hesitation. Furthermore, we cannot ever identity ourselves as Agents of the Inquisition to anyone short of an Arbites, and even then, only if we trust that they are not compromised. Noble Houses? No. Planetary Governor? No. And certainly not to rival Gangs or local officers. We may face gangs down there, we may face private militaries and mercenaries, we may face whatever else lurks within the sump of Skardak¡¯s Reach. And we will face it without the might of the Inquisition at our backs. Any questions so far?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t intel gathering¡­you know¡­Intel¡¯s job?¡± someone asked. Harr did not know the voice; it was entirely new to him.


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s how we¡¯re here at all,¡± Hager grumbled. ¡°This task has stepped beyond their purview and into Stealth¡¯s. Our Stealth friend, here, believes she requires more manpower for the job. That¡¯s where you lot come in, if you¡¯re willing. And if no one is¡­,¡± Hager started, then shrugged. ¡°Then we¡¯ll draw straws. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Are we picking an existing Gang at random or do we have some targets in mind?¡± Harr asked. Carmichael grinned at his question, thinking it worth bringing up.


    ¡°We have three, yes,¡± Hager confirmed with a nod. ¡°The Redeemers of Revelation are a Redemptionist Cult turned ganger. They may be hard to work with, given their zealousness, but if we can convince them we¡¯re in it for purity¡¯s sake¡ªwhich, Throne, we are¡ªwe might have an in. We believe a Suzensu Khaladi is their operational lead on Skardak¡¯s Reach. Secondly, House Gronheim has an active Spyrer gang on Skardak. We know not the nature of Gronheim¡¯s hunt nor the sponsor for it. Scodd Gronheim is the youth involved¡ªwhatever our interactions with the gang, it is imperative Scodd survives. We cannot risk upsetting the noble Houses in Ixaniad in our efforts here. Finally, the Maul. Malign Enforcers¡ªSkardak¡¯s security team¡ªthat enjoyed the brutality of the Underhive life a bit too much and decided to bask in it rather than work to control it. That or they were initially bought out for the right price and decided to lean all the way into corruption. Who knows? Who cares? The Maul still has friends in the Malign; it may not be unwise to assume they are one and the same. All these groups have offworld contacts confirmed with Amnes Minoris. We can get into further specifics with our operational team onworld.¡±


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    Hager and Carmichael left a paused opening for further questions after Hager¡¯s speech, but when none arose, Carmichael declared, ¡°Alright then. Any volunteers for this operation?¡±


    Harr rose to his feet at once, though not in an awkward hurry. Carmichael was happy to see him do so, though she had expected it all the same. Elraad also rose, asking of Hager, ¡°How many do you need?¡±


    ¡°Stealth?¡± Hager deferred, turning to her. The operation was her design, it seemed.


    ¡°Minimum seven. But I can manage some number more than that. We want to look like representatives of a smaller gang¡ªtherefore a piece of something already small. But we should have the muscle to look appealing to do business with,¡± Carmichael explained. ¡°Enos, Hosku, you¡¯re benched,¡± she added as they began to rise. And when they looked offended, she clarified, ¡°I can¡¯t risk your trauma from Canicus and the loss of Lexam here. It has been one month since then, but I intend to wait out another two to let your emotions settle. So, we have four¡ªmyself and Tactical-1 included. Anyone else?¡±


    Others began to rise, but Jethro¡ªthe Ratling with which Harr had had breakfast in his first days aboard the Echoshroud¡ªspoke up. ¡°Well, now you¡¯re just being heightist,¡± he complained, standing amidst a kneeling crowd.


    ***


    ¡°Scram,¡± was the only phrase uttered to the previous tenants of the ramshackle hut of deteriorating rockcrete Harr¡¯s team had chosen as a hideout for their operation. Those that once called the hut home objected at first, but received a single glare from Silas Hager before going on their not-so-merry way. Hager may not have wielded the Carapace Armor befitting of a Tempestus Scion, but the hardware he did bring to look the part of a ganger made him look extremely intimidating all the same. Actually, Harr thought to himself, Hager might just be intimidating by default. Regardless of how Hager may have looked, he exuded an aura of brutal efficiency; those around him carried themselves quickly and orderly, as though compelled to do so lest they incur the wrath of the Scion. To that end, their team organized themselves in their new hideout in less than an hour.


    It was from there, then, that Harr¡¯s troubles began.


    First among those troubles were the names. There were so many of them and each one had a variant¡ªhis team¡¯s real names, their aliases (and in Bliss¡¯s case, her alias¡¯s alias), the names of ganger contacts, their aliases. It was all a bit much to keep track of for the probationary Stealth recruit. Harr had not anticipated such an onslaught of information.


    Harr had anticipated, however, needing to play a less-than-devout role of an Underhive ganger. He thought he was ready for that, but found himself plunging into discomfort all the same. The once-formal now-ganger group he was now a part of assumed crude, ghastly roles compared to the noble operatives of the Holy Ordos that they actually were. Harr was very much not a fan of this, but accepted that sometimes hands had to be thrust into the mud to pull out some gold. Even with this acceptance, this mud seemed rather deep, and the gold rather distant.


    Harr was now Nort Godel. Not the proudest name, but at least it was better than Boyle Shem, which was¡ªacquired following a brief chuckle at Harr¡¯s new alias¡ªJethro¡¯s alias. Elraad became Caleb. No surname, just Caleb. Carmichael, for a further alias atop her many others, assumed the role of Selaina Poison. Silas Hager became Otto Corvin. There were those in their team¡ªthe group numbered nine in total¡ªwhose aliases Harr forced himself to learn, too, though he never actually knew their real names. Maybe it was better that way.


    Carmichael¡ªnow Poison¡ªinsisted everyone take to using their new aliases even in downtime, to build up a habitual instinct for it. Even the slightest slip of the tongue or stutter could tip off the more inquisitive¡ªshe used that word laughingly¡ªof Underhive gangers. But, she allowed, that for their first night in Skardak Tertium¡ªwhich was, ironically, the second largest Hive City on Skardak¡¯s Reach; its name spoke to the order in which the cities were founded¡ªthey could settle in with their real names if they so chose.


    Harr sat next to Hager, wanting to get to know him¡ªand the boss¡ªa bit better. Though Harr had seen Hager several times without his helmet, something still struck Harr as being a bit off about Hager. The Scion seemed young. Or young-ish. Battle scars lined Hager¡¯s face, but blue eyes glared with a notable degree of youthful vigor still in them, and his sandy hair, buzzed though it was, was not the least bit greyed nor fallen out as usually accompanied even the younger of Veterans in the Astra Militarum. Harr read Hager as having fought in dozens of campaigns, perhaps across decades, and yet it seemed the Scion still had half his life to live out in battles more. ¡°How long you been with the boss?¡± Harr asked, sitting next to Hager in front of a small, newly-lit fireplace that would not have sufficed for heating the hut. In fact, it may not have been a fireplace; it may have simply been collapsed rockcrete that looked the part.


    ¡°Long enough,¡± Hager replied with a dry grunt.


    ¡°Enough for what?¡±


    ¡°To know the boss is a greater man than any on this world, present company included,¡± Hager replied. ¡°I count myself among that tally¡ªit is not meant to be an insult.¡±


    ¡°You look up to him greatly,¡± Harr nodded.


    ¡°You cannot know,¡± Hager shook his head. ¡°He is inspiring beyond his years, and his years are many. You¡¯ll see. You¡¯ll meet him in the course of serving Stealth, should you survive long enough.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to it. Got any stories of him¡ªthat you can share, of course. I don¡¯t intend to pry,¡± Harr clarified, hands raised in defense.


    ¡°That¡¯ll take you far,¡± Hager grunted. ¡°Stories¡­war stories? Social ones?¡±


    ¡°Both?¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Hager mused aloud, but relayed nothing.


    ¡°I have heard talk of Hestia Majoris. I don¡¯t know much about the world, never heard of it before joining up with you lot. But it seems to be talked up here,¡± Harr offered.


    ¡°Hmm¡­,¡± Hager¡¯s musing continued, but eventually he nodded. ¡°A Hive City like this one went to war with the boss. It lost. There were¡­other traitor Inquisitors in it. The boss rewarded their treachery with the only thing they deserved. I shouldn¡¯t say more than that. Well, I¡¯ll add this: the boss has slain greater monsters and more men with a single hand than you¡¯ll ever manage in your lifetime. You look to me and see a Scion, the product of enhanced training and armaments over the sort you knew in the Militarum. I look to the boss and see that the gap between us is wider than it is between you and I. You¡¯re very devout, I understand, Jack Harr?¡± Hager asked him, previously having been staring into the fire but then turning ever so slightly toward Harr.


    ¡°I am, sir, yes,¡± Harr nodded.


    ¡°Then take solace in the fact that the Almighty Emperor¡¯s agents will emerge victorious from the skirmishes we find ourselves in, even should we not live to see of such victories. The boss is a breathing guarantee of heresy¡¯s failure,¡± Hager explained, and then rose to his feet as though to leave Harr by the fire alone. ¡°Do not doubt your orders or your mission here. The result of your service is the ruthless destruction of the Throne¡¯s foes.¡±

 Chapter 38 - Flect

    Nights in Skardak Tertium were possessed of a harrowing heat, but that did not stop Scodd Gronheim¡¯s Gang from burning rubber in screeching and skidding burnouts. The asphalt-filled smoke that arose in the process was illuminated only by the pinkish hues of a lecherous holoboard, glitched¡ªlikely intentionally¡ªto repeat its display of an augmeticly tantalizing female figure ad infinitum. Still, Harr thought to himself, the nameless augmetic woman did not match Carmichael¡¯s natural form. It then occurred to him that he did not know whether Carmichael in fact lacked augmetics; it probably was not polite to pry in that regard.


    Regardless of the attractiveness of the women in Harr¡¯s head¡ªholoboard or real¡ªHarr still felt like he was in hell, and the heat seemed to suggest he was right. He was as far removed from the Light of the Throne, he felt, as he had been in serving a traitor Inquisitor. The irony that his service to a presumably-loyal Inquisitor put him in this position was not lost on him, either. But for all his internal discomfort, outwardly Harr did not evidence a single drop of unease. Sweat, sure, but otherwise he metaphorically kept his cool.


    ¡°So, Tareen tells me your group is looking to trade,¡± Scodd Gronheim asked Harr, taking a seat next to the undercover Guardsman at a ramshackle bar in what was otherwise the middle of nowhere. If there was a structure that once surrounded the bar, it had fallen long ago, and the ages had hidden its foundation. But still, the bar itself stood, likely preserved by dutiful patrons across the eons. Now, it was in Gronheim¡¯s hands. One of Gronheim¡¯s attendants served the young heir a drink, having already addressed Harr¡¯s order. Two of Gronheim¡¯s guards stood close by, laspistols in plain view below crossed arms. ¡°Forgive me, I¡¯m Scodd Gronheim, though I suppose you knew that. You¡¯re¡­Godel, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, that I am,¡± Harr nodded in a lie, raising his glass to toast the heir. Gronheim obliged, and the two shared a drink. The clinging of their glasses¡¯ collision could not be heard over the racing vehicles behind the pair, and Harr swore he tasted a bit of asphalt in his drink. ¡°And yes, we seek to barter.¡±


    ¡°And what is it you think I have to part with?¡± Gronheim asked before turning in his seat to watch the race, leaning back against the bar in the process. He held his left hand in the air at chest height, elbow bent, while his index finger drew circles around his thumb.


    ¡°Well you¡¯re selling something to Amnes Minoris. And I think I have a pretty good idea as to what,¡± Harr replied, which was, again, a lie. They did not have a clue what sort of product Amnes Minoris was receiving from House Gronheim.


    ¡°Do you now?¡± Gronheim smirked. ¡°And what is that, exactly?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the sort of thing you and I would prefer go unsaid,¡± Harr wagered.


    ¡°Ha. And you want a cut, eh?¡± Gronheim laughed. Rather, he made a sound that would have been transcribed as laughter, but it was too monotone and dry to carry such an effect. ¡°What do you suppose you have that would be of any interest to me?¡±


    ¡°Well, in that regard, I¡¯m not sure,¡± Harr started, but Gronheim¡¯s eyes narrowed and the heir cut him off.


    ¡°You¡¯re not sure? Then why did Tareen insist on dragging me out here? You better not be wasting my time, boy, or all that¡¯ll enter my possession from this discussion will be your eyes. And Tareen¡¯s, for that matter,¡± Gronheim growled, his once-fidgeting hand collapsing into a clenched fist. Harr reflected for a moment on being called ¡®boy¡¯ by a man he reasonably believed to be his younger, but swiftly decided not to bring that up.


    ¡°I am confident my group can offer something worth your time, sir,¡± Harr assured the heir before taking a sip of his drink to cool his nerves. ¡°However, truth be told, we don¡¯t know what it is you want. So, suppose I had infinite resources¡ªwhich I don¡¯t, for the record¡ªwhat would Scodd Gronheim most desire out of his time on Skardak Tertium?¡± Harr asked.


    Gronheim glared at Harr for nearly a minute, then. Harr never broke character, outwardly, but he was pretty sure the heir was going to start plucking eyes at any moment. Finally, Gronheim broke the tiniest grin, and replied, ¡°You¡¯re familiar with¡­House Gangs, I assume?¡±


    ¡°You would be correct in that assumption, yes,¡± Harr nodded, and then elaborated: ¡°Heirs are sent out to find a way to make a profit in the Underhives of their own accord before returning to the House proper with what they¡¯ve learned.¡±


    ¡°Eh, close enough,¡± Gronheim sighed and shrugged. ¡°Houses generally have a secondary goal to go with the process. So yes, I have achieved the former already¡ªturning a profit off my sales to Amnes Minoris. But the secondary goal of House Gronheim is that of adventure. Howsoever that may manifest, I desire an adventure. Can you and your not-infinite resources give me that, Godel?¡±


    Harr took another sip of his drink, then nodded. ¡°I am rather sure we can, yes. I think you may wish to speak to my superior to hammer out exact details¡ªa meet I can arrange.¡±


    ¡°I will arrange such a meet, Godel,¡± Gronheim growled, but pulled his glare away from Harr all the same and sat back again. ¡°You¡¯re sweating profusely. You¡¯re new to Skardak Tertium.¡±


    ¡°New is a relative term,¡± Harr shrugged. His response didn¡¯t mean anything to him, but maybe the phrase might find purchase with Gronheim.


    ¡°I suppose so,¡± Gronheim shrugged. Indeed. ¡°What do you think of the city?¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s friggin¡¯ hot,¡± Harr replied, which at last sparked a genuine, barking laugh from the heir.


    ¡°Hm. Here, maybe this¡¯ll help you settle in, then,¡± Gronheim offered, and reached into a pocket on the front of his shirt before pulling out a small, plastic bag. He handed it to Harr. ¡°Careful on the dosage. Flects can be¡­volatile. But the trade is booming here ever since Scarus kicked it out. Amnes Minoris loves them¡ªthey buy in bulk; enough so that I assume they might not notice a couple packets here and there going missing. If you like the taste, eh, and if you can give me a suitable adventure, there¡¯s more where that came from, Godel.¡±


    ***


    ¡°So, what¡¯s a flect?¡± Jethro asked, looking at the little baggie dangling in Harr¡¯s grasp. The Ratling was himself dangling from a small compartment formed of heat-warped shelving near the nonexistent roof of their abode. None knew how Jethro got up there.


    Carmichael snatched it from Harr¡¯s hands in the blink of an eye. ¡°Something to be destroyed, and with prejudice,¡± she warned. ¡°Good work, Godel. Scodd seems¡­forthcoming, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Very,¡± Harr nodded. ¡°He¡¯s basically a kid, after all.¡±


    ¡°Hmph. All power and no discipline,¡± Hager muttered, arms crossed. ¡°Easily manipulable. The boss¡¯ll have a field day with him when we¡¯re done here.¡±


    ¡°And rightfully so, especially now with the confirmation of flect trade in the sector,¡± Carmichael agreed. ¡°Scodd has given us a lot, but we still need more. Contacts, who on Amnes Minoris he¡¯s selling to. Transport and planetary insertion codes, where he¡¯s offloading his cargo. Some of this will be easier to get out of him, some of it harder. But he seems like a goldmine of valuable intel. Whatever sort of adventure he seeks, we¡¯ll need to be ready to deliver.¡±


    ¡°Did he give any indication about what an ¡®adventure¡¯ means in this context?¡± Elraad asked Harr, who then frowned and shook his head.


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    ¡°Given the kid¡¯s age, it¡¯s probably something idiotic,¡± Hager muttered. ¡°Or fantastically impossible. I guess that¡¯d also be idiotic.¡±


    ¡°And what about this meet? How¡¯s that going down?¡± Elraad asked.


    Harr shrugged. ¡°No real info yet. I¡¯ll next see Tareen at the Starlight Club a few days from now¡ªI assume I¡¯ll get that info then. Scodd did tell me to bring my muscle, `cause he¡¯d be bringing his. A formality, he called it.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell, is that a good thing?¡± Jethro asked.


    ¡°Hard to tell, honestly,¡± Carmichael admitted. ¡°A kid like Scodd is volatile, emotional. Could be him being polite. Could be him wanting all of us in one place to mow down. Either way, Boyle, we¡¯ll want you on overwatch, as out of sight as you can be.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for,¡± Jethro shrugged.


    ***


    Spindown Cove was hardly the scene the name may suggest; there was not any great body of water to look out upon. Instead, the location was a dump, in the literal sense. Great vessels that once harbored Machine Spirits were abandoned en masse, ¡®Spun-down¡¯ from their nonfunctionality. A natural incline of the terrain dragged greasy oils and Machine fluids into a pale-brown lake of maximized toxicity; rivers of refuse coagulated at various chokepoints between the rusted towers of once-Machines, and the mud released either a hissing or a gurgling at one¡¯s step, saturated with the grease of a forgotten age.


    Why this was the location Gronheim wanted to meet, according to Tareen, Harr could not fathom. Or perhaps this was Gronheim¡¯s way of telling Harr to frig off. Either way, the location, tactically, could not have been better for them. Somewhere Jethro was climbing high atop rusty once-Machines for the angle most snipers could only dream of having. There was ample cover around if a shootout ensued, and for the time being, that cover provided shadows for Carmichael to dwell in, further shielded from view by Hager¡¯s imposing form. Harr took point, with Elraad to his right, and another of Elraad¡¯s soldiers, Thex¡ªthat was their alias while on Skardak Tertium; Harr did not know their real name¡ªstood to Harr¡¯s left. A few more Guardsmen-turned-gangers dotted the scene around Harr, while Hager and Carmichael dwelled behind the forward trio.


    For a time, it seemed as though the group was being stood up. But, eventually, the sound of an approaching Scodd Gronheim rattled off dilapidated steels, immature laughter giving the young heir away at a distance. His voice was solitary, but his footfalls were not; a larger, silent group sloppily dredged through the mud alongside their master. After a few moments, Gronheim and Harr came face to face once more. ¡°You didn¡¯t take it,¡± Gronheim greeted him in a sour, disappointed tone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Harr frowned.


    ¡°Me and the boys were betting on how frigged up you¡¯d look after taking the flect,¡± Gronheim explained, gesturing to his allies as ¡®the boys,¡¯ who otherwise stood emotionless next to their master. ¡°But you didn¡¯t take it, huh?¡±


    ¡°You can tell?¡±


    ¡°Gradle¡­wait, no¡­Godel, a flect frigs up everything about someone. That¡¯s why they¡¯re so addictive¡ªpeople like being, ehh, reshaped. You don¡¯t seem much different. Ergo, I conclude that you didn¡¯t take it,¡± Gronheim explained.


    Harr shrugged. ¡°There are people for that sort of thing. Not exactly the types you want arranging business deals.¡±


    ¡°Then there¡¯s a bit of wisdom to this group of yours yet,¡± Gronheim smirked. ¡°Pity. Frigging around with clueless minor gangs is always a bit of fun. So which of you is in charge, here, if it ain¡¯t Godel? You?¡± Gronheim asked, nodding to Elraad.


    ¡°Not I, sir. We¡¯re just the delegation,¡± Elraad replied.


    Gronheim looked past the trio, then, and caught a glimpse of Hager in the background of the scene, standing defensively over a shadow. Gronheim was not, then, so na?ve to be ignorant of who he should have been talking to. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you delegate that boss of yours out from the shadows, eh? We¡¯re all friends here.¡±


    ¡°That can happen, but first why don¡¯t you tell us a little bit about the adventure you claimed to have in mind,¡± Elraad offered.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s just the thing, then, isn¡¯t it? I didn¡¯t claim to have one in mind, I said I wanted one. You are supposed to provide one for me, if you actually want to kick this trading arrangement off. And if you can¡¯t, I may choose to just fabricate a little adventure here and now,¡± Gronheim sighed, and waved a finger in a circle before him. His guards snapped their weapons forward, a dozen lasrifles trained and powering up in Harr¡¯s direction.


    Harr¡¯s crew began to go through the motions of preparing to engage, but were stifled by Carmichael¡¯s call in the back. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± she said calmly, strutting out into the open. Hager followed her like a brooding but loyal lapdog, which given the rest of Carmichael¡¯s character at the time, may have been the point. Harr had often seen Carmichael in particularly flirtatious attire, but never in such a way as could be described as ¡®revealing.¡¯ That was, however, until Carmichael assumed the role of Selaina Poison, the boss of their little gang. Fake but entirely-convincing tattoos lined every corner of Carmichael¡¯s previously-fair skin that showed itself from beneath torn leggings and a thin, v-shaped, open-backed top. Red eyes had been dyed to a heterochromatic green and purple, and with a hand on hip laid bare by uneven shorts, she strode forward beyond Harr¡¯s trio to stand before Gronheim¡¯s guns with nonchalant carelessness, once again wielding long, flowing blonde hair. ¡°Out from the shadows, hm? What do you need to say to my face that you couldn¡¯t say to theirs?¡± she asked Gronheim, who finally began to succumb to the heat while in Carmichael¡¯s presence.


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­,¡± Gronheim muttered. He wiped a hand over a now-wetted forehead and then gestured for his goons to lower their weapons. As they obeyed, he replied, ¡°You¡¯re¡­uh¡­the boss of this little group?¡±


    ¡°Selaina Poison, and this is my muscle,¡± Carmichael replied, raising a hand behind her to Hager¡¯s chest. ¡°He¡¯ll tear the lot of you to shreds if you give him a reason to. So, again, what do you need of me that my delegation would not suffice for?¡±


    Claiming that Gronheim was visibly aroused by Carmichael would have been a severe understatement. It seemed, to Harr, that the young heir was putting a great deal of his focus into maintaining his posture alone, and that any utterances that emerged from his mouth which were not mere babbling were instead the product of a miracle bestowed upon the noble by the Throne Itself. Harr wondered if he had ever been so terribly seduced by Carmichael as Gronheim had been. Surely, he admitted to himself, some measure of seduction had taken place to allow for Carmichael¡¯s infiltration of his unit on Canicus to go unnoticed. But unluckily for Gronheim, the poor lad was younger than Harr had been upon first meeting Carmichael, and she was also far more provocatively clothed. This was far from the first time the Inquisitor¡¯s Stealth operative had weaponized her own appearance, and Harr reckoned that if they survived this encounter, it would be far from the last.


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­,¡± Gronheim tried, stammering and stumbling over his own words. He then cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a few moments, as though believing that, in re-opening them, he would find Carmichael less beautiful. If that was his plan, it did not work. ¡°You¡¯re¡­uh¡­you¡¯re interested in joining the flect trade?¡±


    ¡°As long as you¡¯re willing to strike a cut, doll,¡± Carmichael enticed him.


    ¡°I mean¡­what kind of a cut are you looking for? And I won¡¯t just be parting with product for free, of course,¡± Gronheim told her, slowly getting his head back into his business.


    ¡°Of course not. Let¡¯s suppose, as a trial run, 500 units at 70% of the rate you¡¯re selling to Amnes Minoris?¡± Carmichael offered. ¡°Provided we can give you an adventure that you find desirable, that is.¡±


    ¡°70%? Far too low,¡± Gronheim shook his head, appearing offended but still so attracted to Carmichael as to not flick to violence as he had in the past.


    ¡°Is it? Surely you¡¯d still turn a profit from not needing to move product through two or more stages of customs across the subsector,¡± Carmichael offered.


    ¡°Profit is one thing, margins are another. Tell you what: 70% for your little trial run, as you called it, of 500 units. If we find the transaction goes smoothly, we can continue doing business, but at an 85% rate,¡± Gronheim decided.


    The deal was more important than the numbers, Carmichael knew. They probably weren¡¯t going to be ¡®buying¡¯ any flects, and instead if any fell into their possession, it would be through confiscation. So rather than risk a haggle, Carmichael declared, ¡°Deal. My delegation can discuss the exchange of goods and funds. Now, as for your adventure, may I suggest¡ª¡±


    ¡°Funny, I have in fact decided on something I want in that regard,¡± Gronheim interrupted her.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°You.¡± An expectedly tense silence followed. Gronheim elaborated further. ¡°You¡¯re the face of this little outfit, hm? You certainly look better than all the rest of it. But regardless, power, and the display thereof, is terribly important down here in our world. I¡¯m sure you understand. So I will take you for a day, do what I want with you for a day, and vassalize you and your little groupies here. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll prove adventurous enough, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s out of the¡ª¡± Harr began. Other objections were raised in tandem, with only Hager¡ªand Jethro, somewhere likely out of earshot to begin with¡ªremaining silent. But all the objections were overridden by Carmichael, who held an open hand up to gesture for everyone to stop.


    ¡°It will take some discussion with my group, but I think that¡¯s very manageable,¡± Carmichael replied to Gronheim, nodding.


    ¡°Well, take some time to manage it, then. But know this¡ªwe can¡¯t leave loose ends¡ªsuch as those that know about the flect trade¡ªaround for long. And we do know where your little gang resides. So you, Ms. Poison, have a day to come down to the Wyveria for¡­processing, and if you do not, we will see your group¡­evicted. Clear?¡±


    ¡°Clearer than a flect,¡± Carmichael nodded again.

 Chapter 39 - Mauled

    ¡°Bliss, what the hell are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°What? Thinking? I¡¯m thinking I¡¯m doing my duty to the Throne. My life and body are of no consequence to ensuring the continued wellbeing of the Imperium. And I¡¯ll remind you that I am not Bliss on this world,¡± Carmichael snapped to Harr when the group returned to safe territory.


    ¡°As amusing an idea as it is to see you sell yourself off into what is likely some weird sex thing in House Gronheim, is there some reality where you can justify what you just said without making you appear like the fodder you said we weren¡¯t?¡± Jethro asked her. She paused for a moment to think through his run-on sentence.


    Hager, betraying the brutish, dull look he had donned in Skardak Tertium, followed along more quickly and answered for Carmichael. ¡°The difference, grunts, is that this is her choice. And as she is your superior for this op, you will surrender to that choice or be reprimanded for insubordination. If Selaina Poison decides to roll in the mud with Scodd Gronheim, then she will, and none of you will have anything to say about it,¡± Hager explained. He then turned to her and furrowed his brow. ¡°Even if this reeks of a bad frigging idea.¡±


    ¡°Your concern is noted,¡± Carmichael growled, arms crossed. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to be equally concerned when each of you set up a date.¡±


    ¡°This is a little more dangerous than¡ª¡± Elraad started.


    ¡°I know! Throne, overbearing and literal, the lot of you,¡± Carmichael sighed, tossing her hands to the air in flustered exasperation.


    ¡°Do you want to vox up?¡± Hager asked her, still focusing on moving the mission forward.


    Carmichael shook her head. ¡°No. I don¡¯t imagine clothes will be long for my body, and an exposed vox link will do us all in. Really, the only conversation we should be having is what all of you are going to be up to while I¡¯m gone. I¡¯ll be able to look after myself.¡±


    ¡°Is keeping watch on this¡­Wyveria, as Gronheim called it, out of the question?¡± Harr asked.


    ¡°Why, want a view, choir boy?¡± Carmichael grinned, winking to him.


    ¡°No, I meant¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sure!¡± Jethro interjected.


    ¡°I know what you meant,¡± Carmichael laughed, ignoring the Ratling. ¡°If you want to hang back and watch the scene to make sure nothing funny happens or to see me make it out alive, by all means. But just hang back. I¡¯m sure Gronheim expects some of you to tail me to the Wyveria, but don¡¯t give him anything to go on,¡± she explained.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep our distance,¡± Hager nodded confidently.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll try. Listen, if things go south, leave me behind. Take what we know to the boss¡ªit will have to be enough and he¡¯ll be able to break all of House Gronheim in half if he needs anything more. My survival is of little consequence to the mission, but if I can survive Gronheim¡¯s plans, I will,¡± Carmichael told the group. Harr did not know how to reply to that, much as he wanted to. But his wants, unverbalized as they were, were ignored, and Carmichael¡¯s plan to seduce the young Gronheim heir into turning up more intel about Amnes Minoris went underway. Even in that regard, he had little input into Carmichael¡¯s plan of approach; instead, he was again tithed toward leaning on his former Guardsman role, with much of the team focusing on securing a sniper position for Jethro to keep as much of an eye on things as he could.


    Jethro, at least, was excited for his role.


    ***


    ¡°Anything?¡±


    ¡°Just like the last dozen times, Godel, no,¡± Jethro¡¯s voice crackled and popped through the small speaker in Harr¡¯s ear.


    ¡°And just like the last dozen times, vox chatter minimum,¡± Hager snarled, his low growl coming across choppily through the vox. ¡°Duration 1.8, confirm.¡±


    ¡°Check,¡± Harr reported, looking at his holobracer. Hager was confirming the group was awake enough to tell whether they had been waiting around the Wyveria for 1.8 hours. A handful of ¡®check¡¯s from the others in the group followed.


    The Wyveria had been a hotel, once upon a time, but was now repurposed into a small fortress for House Gronheim¡¯s presence in the Underhive. It was carved into the abdomen of a titanic stone statue of some long-ago Terran noble; Harr did not know which, save for the initials G.V., which were splayed across the statue. It seemed, to Harr, that this statue was dedicated to a rather unsavory fellow, as it had also been the site of enough graffiti to paint a small Ecclesiarchical chapel, and the statue¡¯s eyes had been stricken from its head. Maybe, Harr wondered, that was where Scodd got his idea of eye-plucking as a threat.


    The Wyveria, being midway up (or down, depending on the point of view) the height of the statue, was a tremendous height off the ground. That meant reaching the Wyveria required taking one of many catwalks that formed an incoherent maze suspended in the air across a vast abyss over the rest of the Underhive. Jethro was positioned somewhere across from the Wyveria, far away enough to get a good view of the scene with his sniper. Everyone was relatively far away, scattered throughout the airborne maze. Dim blue clouds of smog rolled under the catwalks, obscuring the ground from view; as far as Harr was concerned, there may not have been any ground down there at all, and a fall may simply last forever. Harr himself was at least on a catwalk that led to the Wyveria, but even then, the walking distance would still have taken him about five minutes in a sprint just to make it to the front door.


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    There were a few moments of silence following Hager¡¯s call for a time check. Then, another Guardsmen Harr only knew from this op¡ªthey went by Scurryscar for their mission here, but did not possess a scar to Harr¡¯s knowledge¡ªvoxxed in, ¡°I just heard footsteps.¡±


    ¡°Repeat, Scurryscar?¡± Hager called back.


    ¡°I heard a crowd of¡­people. But there¡¯s no one here,¡± Scurryscar replied.


    ¡°No visual,¡± Jethro added.


    ¡°Should I investigate?¡±


    ¡°Negative, keep your post. Confirm, over,¡± Hager replied, waiting for a response of confirmation. None came. ¡°Scurryscar, confirm, over.¡± Nothing. ¡°Scurryscar, what¡¯s your status?¡± Hager demanded. He finally got a response, even if it was not the one he was expecting, nor was it intelligible. A crunching, smacking sound, followed by a chunky pitter-patter.


    The sound of someone all but exploding upon contact with the ground from a great fall.


    And then all hell broke loose. Hager knew from the horrific fate that came through the vox that they were under attack, and began to give an order. ¡°All units, report to¡ª¡± but he never quite managed to finish, as his line instead went quiet after a brief roaring from an autogun. Harr¡¯s head flicked to where he thought Hager was, across the vast myriad of catwalks suspended in the air. Hager was too far for Harr to see much of anything, but when Harr looked in his direction, the rapid popping of autogun fire at last reached him, physically. Lights flickered in the distance, their sounds taking about five seconds to reach Harr. It seemed like Hager was putting up a fight, though.


    At that thought, Harr heard footsteps of his own from behind him, and spun on his heels to see a pair of carapace-armored individuals in a defaced red and black paintjob hop onto his catwalk from one above. ¡°Maulers!¡± Harr yelled into his vox, though most of everyone probably knew that by then. The flickering of lights and the popping of gunfire was coming from all directions at that point. Harr slid behind what little cover he could find, in the form of a collapsed construction rigging that had been erected around a now-completed but burnt-out lamppost on his catwalk. He also readied his lasrifle during his slide, and trained it down the length of his catwalk, toward the two Maulers coming his way. One had a combat shotgun, the other an autogun.


    Harr laid down suppressive fire just to keep the Maulers at bay, but they were not reluctant to return fire likewise. They unloaded into Harr¡¯s cover, torn rockcrete blasting around Harr¡¯s head. Harr prayed to the Throne that his cover could last until they needed to reload, and luckily, it seemed the Throne answered his prayers. For a precious moment, a lull presented itself in the autoweapon fire that had been assaulting Harr¡¯s position, and he wasted no time in engaging his assailants more actively. He was aided in this endeavor, too; the moment he peered over his shredded cover, a flash of light streaked through the neck of the shotgun-wielding Mauler from an angle above, and the ganger fell sideways into the railing at his right, limp and motionless. The autogun-wielding Mauler was briefly stunned by the sudden slaying of his ally, leaving him momentarily vulnerable to Harr¡¯s lasrifle. Harr seized his chance to unleash the Throne¡¯s fury, and lit his assailant up from head to toe, not quite shredding the carapace-armored ex-Enforcer, but killing him all the same.


    Harr was grateful for Jethro¡¯s aid but did not have the time to waste in voicing so over vox. Instead, he fought a battle of internal conflict in the brief moments to himself he regained after lasing a Mauler up and down. Should he fight his way to Bliss? Could he? Hager¡¯s orders were sounding like he wanted the group to report to the Scion¡¯s position, but that was merely an assumption. But it was not an assumption that Bliss had wanted the team to abandon her if things went sideways, which they absolutely had. And more important than Bliss¡¯s wants was her reasoning: that getting their information to their Inquisitor was of the utmost import. Harr did not then know how to go about that on his own, but he knew he could never have managed it if he was dead. Even so, Bliss had stuck her neck out for him¡­


    The mired internal conflict was externally solved for Jack Harr when the front doors of the Wyveria flung open and a patrol of Gronheim gangers flooded out. Gronheim¡¯s goons took a moment to assess the situation after emerging from the Wyveria, and then opened fire. On Harr and the others, of course¡ªthe decision was obvious, to Harr, who had pieced together the goings¡¯ on based on his knowledge of the Underhive¡¯s gangs. Scodd Gronheim had fallen for Bliss¡¯s act, but wanted her for himself, permanently, ever as avaricious as a noble heir could be. So he undoubtedly made the decision to strike the aspiring gang Bliss came from out from the Underhive, keeping Bliss and the totality of his flect operation intact, and had called upon the Maulers to ¡®police¡¯ the situation. It is what they were (once) made for, after all.


    Motive or cause aside, the catwalks erupted into a display of lasfire and autogun blasts. Some catwalks fell into the cloudy abyss below, severed by intense las impacts or too dilapidated to otherwise support the weight of combat. Jethro¡¯s covering fire persisted for a time, the crackshot Ratling picking off dangerous targets all throughout the shooting gallery of the open air, but even his fire ended eventually. There was no telling whether that meant he was alive or dead. In his ensuing travels, Harr did not hear or see any others of his team, though he knew that gunfire was still originating from and focused on areas of the scene that were not his own, so it was a safe assumption that parts of his team still existed even still. That, or Gronheim and the Maulers decided to blast each other to bits when no one else was looking. Harr hoped for the former.


    Harr fled from Gronheim¡¯s goons, ultimately being pressed toward more Maulers as he navigated the winding walkways suspended in the air. The thought occurred to him that Gronheim¡¯s gang, being as they did not possess the Maulers¡¯ carapace armor, would have been easier to fight through, but it was still a losing battle all the same. Rather than run toward that one, Harr decided to fight into the battle that had already been dropped in his lap and try to pierce through it to the other side of Maulers¡¯ lines. For a time, it seemed as though he may succeed, that he might escape and manage to roam free. Such aspirations were denied, however, upon the arrival of a piercing and grimy barking that echoed across the whole of the lasfire-filled scene. The shooting stopped and knowing heads raised warily to the sound of the doglike growling before the bodies carrying those heads turned in flight.


    Gronheim¡¯s gang fled back toward the Wyveria, and the Maulers fled whichever way they could, running from no physical object save for the scene itself. Harr questioned whether he should shoot his recent-assailants in the back, but decided the Throne would have frowned upon wanton civil bloodshed of the sort. Plus he did not want to draw further attention to himself from the barking, which, further lasfire or not, was growing louder. Louder and closer. Harr chose to kneel in patient anticipation for whatever was coming, catching his breath and tending to his lasgun. He had no idea what sort of mechanical barking could so command the forces of Underhive gangs to flee, but whatever it was, it was something very real and very close.


    When the cyber-mastiffs landed on Harr¡¯s catwalk and scanned him over with their sensorium visors, it dawned on him that perhaps joining the Maulers in flight would have been a better idea than gathering his breath.

 Chapter 40 - Lex Imperialis

    Regulator Ramiel Kanius reminded Harr of Silas Hager greatly, if only because Kanius¡¯s helmet was always on during his interrogations. Kanius was well decorated, but like Hager, a practical man who did not seem to care or flaunt such decorations around beyond wearing them as a formality. Like Hager, Kanius¡¯s height was imposing; his build was that of a Leman Russ Battle Tank¡ªstocky, firm; and every action taken, from the slightest movements to the most demanding table-pounding fist-drops, was carried with precise, mechanical intent. ¡°Public Desecration of Building, Precinct Interrogation¡ªTwo Days¡ªfollowed by Judgment, Discretionary,¡± Kanius recited to Harr, the former of which stood beyond Harr¡¯s view in a jet-black room. Harr himself was shackled to a table, sitting on a rickety stool.


    ¡°Intent to Commit Unsanctioned Assassination, Precinct Interrogation¡ªTwo Days¡ªfollowed by Judgement, Execution,¡± Kanius informed Hager. Two pairs of blue eyes were locked together, Hager¡¯s being the only moving part of his body as they tracked Kanius around the room. Likewise, Kanius¡¯s eyes were the only visible part of his body. Kanius knew in a moment that Hager was not merely the muscle of the gang he had captured, but also an intelligent, senior member of their operation. Hager, meanwhile, was calculating how many bones in his hands he would break if needing to unshackle himself from the desk, and what would be the most efficient way of overpowering Kanius were he to have done so.


    ¡°Assault of a Noble Family¡¯s Assets, Precinct Interrogation¡ªTwo Days¡ªfollowed by deference to offended Family,¡± Kanius told Jethro, whose diminutive stature seated upon the rickety stool barely allowed his head to rise above the table. Jethro¡¯s hands, then, were shackled under the table, and more robustly at that, being as they were obstructed from the Regulator¡¯s view.


    ¡°Am I meant to be scared of that?¡± Jethro ran his mouth. Kanius was undeterred by Jethro¡¯s interruption, but did note the Ratling¡¯s willingness to vocalize. That may present as a willingness to inform the Arbites Regulator of their gang¡¯s intents and origins.


    ¡°Assault of a Noble Family Member, Including Damaging of Facial Features, Precinct Interrogation¡ªThree Days¡ªfollowed by deference to offended Family.¡±


    ¡°She got him good then, huh?¡± Harr asked, grinning for the first time in Throne-knows how many hours. He may not have known of Bliss¡¯s fate, but he did know she had probably broken Scodd¡¯s face inward once the shooting started.


    ¡°Opportunity to Confess to your Guilt: Presented,¡± Kanius declared. Silence followed as Hager continued to beam on toward the Regulator, unflinching. ¡°Noted. Failure to Confess Guilt, Precinct Interrogation¡ªTwo Months¡ªfollowed by Judgment, Discretionary. Identify yourself.¡±


    ¡°Well, would you believe me if I told you a mother could name a child Boyle Shem?¡± Jethro asked. Kanius glared at the Ratling in silence. ¡°Well, maybe you could for one of my kind. I¡¯ll confess¡ªproudly, I may add¡ªthat that ain¡¯t it, praise the Beneficent Emperor. Were you really named Ramiel at birth, or did you go shopping for that one?¡±


    ¡°Do I look like a Nort Godel to you?¡± Harr asked. Kanius did not respond to questions from the accused. Fair enough, Harr thought. ¡°I like to think I don¡¯t, but then again, I don¡¯t have a picture of Nort Godel in my head. What do you suppose Nort might look like?¡±


    ¡°I said identify yourself,¡± Kanius insisted, dry vocal inflection unchanging despite the repeated phrase. For the first time since being chained to the desk, Hager¡¯s body moved, if only in tilting his head backward and forward to look Kanius up and down. The carapace armor the Regulator wore was of a far higher quality, unsurprisingly, to that of the Maulers. Its silver form glistened in the lightless shadows of the room, reflecting a glimmer of the nothingness between the pair. The Regulator¡¯s ceramite helmet was shaped like an inverted bowl, flat across the surface that rounded his head, with openings only for the Regulator¡¯s eyes. This helmet descended into the armaplas padding of his neckline, concealing the lower opening of the helmet entirely. ¡°I will not repeat myself a third time.¡±


    ¡°Silas Hager, 54<sup>th</sup> Psian Jackals,¡± Hager reported.


    ¡°That¡¯s the first honest answer I¡¯ve received from you lot, isn¡¯t it?¡± Kanius asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re interrogating Jethro Ryme, 11<sup>th</sup> Judicators of Umbra¡ªhe¡¯s the Ratling¡ªand Jack Harr, of whom I am unfamiliar with his company,¡± Hager reported. ¡°Were there other survivors?¡±


    ¡°There were not. You¡¯re all ex-Militarum. That was my suspicion. You carried yourselves too well. Further suspicion¡ªyou are no mere soldier,¡± Kanius insinuated, and took a seat in a far more comfortable chair across from Hager. Comfortable or not, the chair still creaked under the weight of Kanius¡¯s armor.


    ¡°The Jackals are Tempestus Scions,¡± Hager nodded, unflinching from the news of his lost brothers and sisters.


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    ¡°I almost don¡¯t believe you. How does one of your breed wind up on Skardak¡¯s Reach doing gang work, and against a Noble House at that?¡± Kanius asked.


    ¡°The answer to that question is beyond your authorization,¡± Hager replied, voice flatter, even, than the Regulator¡¯s, who already spoke in a near-servitorized tone.


    ¡°You are on this planet, and this planet is my authorization. There is nothing on this world I cannot be privy to,¡± Kanius growled, fists clenching. Hager was not intimidated, and appeared to the Regulator as being almost bored. Kanius paused for a moment, and then relaxed his composure¡ªwhich is not to say the Arbiter relaxed internally, mind you. ¡°Still, your choice of words answers some questions and raises others. You are on mission here, yes?¡± Hager remained silent. ¡°A mission from who, then?¡±


    ¡°Someone well beyond your authorization, physically, and authoritatively,¡± Hager snorted.


    So, too, did Kanius, who shook his head in a dry laugh. ¡°I very much doubt that. Try me.¡±


    ¡°Do you expect the temptation of deflating your ego usurps my loyalty? Please,¡± Hager frowned, visibly insulted.


    ¡°If I can¡¯t get it out of a Scion, I¡¯d bet I could get it out of one of those other two,¡± Kanius shrugged.


    ¡°That assumes they know enough to tell you in the first place,¡± Hager replied.


    ¡°I have no idea who the boss is,¡± Jethro admitted at once.


    ¡°But you¡¯ve met her, no?¡± Kanius asked, pacing in view of the Ratling. He had previously been out of sight, keeping to the shadows.


    ¡°Uh, no?¡±


    ¡°Testimony from Scodd Gronheim suggests she was present on this world and involved in an intimate dealing with his gang,¡± Kanius explained.


    ¡°Oh, her. She¡¯s not the boss,¡± Jethro shrugged.


    ¡°Gronheim says otherwise,¡± Kanius insisted.


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s the boss of this gang, but she¡¯s not the boss of¡ª¡± Jethro started, and then froze in place. ¡°Crap.¡±


    ¡°Your gang isn¡¯t real,¡± Kanius told Harr.


    ¡°Well I can¡¯t imagine Corvin told you that,¡± Harr grumbled.


    ¡°Corvin?¡± Kanius asked, the name not ringing a bell. Harr paused for a moment, unsure what to say. Kanius recognized this. ¡°The Ratling said he was Boyle Shem, real name Jethro Ryme. You¡¯re Jack Harr. Silas Hager¡¯s name in this operation was Corvin, then, I assume?¡± Kanius deduced. Did Hager really give up all of that? Harr wondered. He must have. ¡°Jethro didn¡¯t tell me your gang wasn¡¯t real, but you just did. So if it¡¯s not real, it¡¯s a cover for something. What, then?¡±


    ¡°Damn Ratling can¡¯t keep his mouth shut, can he?¡± Harr muttered. He then looked at the Regulator and shook his head.


    ¡°Do you even know what it is you¡¯re doing here, kid?¡± Kanius asked him.


    ¡°Any answer to that question is incriminating in your eyes,¡± Harr grunted. ¡°Look, what we¡¯re doing here is bigger than I¡¯ll ever be. Same goes for you.¡±


    ¡°You know, I have heard that one before. From some, ah, artifact smugglers I think it was. I shut that operation down. Yours won¡¯t be much different, I imagine,¡± Kanius laughed.


    ¡°I have trouble believing you could imagine mine,¡± Harr shrugged.


    ¡°So you do know what it is.¡±


    ¡°I mean, I know some of it, sure,¡± Jethro admitted, feeling betrayed by Harr and Hager. How was the damned Scion giving things up, of all people? The Whiteshield brat Jethro could understand, but the Scion? ¡°Listen, Silas frigging Hager knows way more about it than I do, and apparently his mouth is open. Why don¡¯t you dig down there, huh? Because I¡¯m not idiotic enough to betray our organization. You may think you¡¯re a terrifying force in the universe, but if you knew the truth of what we were, you¡¯d be wetting yourself.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve heard that one too,¡± Kanius mused. ¡°You know, I think I have some idea.¡±


    ¡°I should hope you do, it¡¯s been a couple days now,¡± Hager muttered as Kanius strolled into the room. Hager had familiarized himself with the sound of Kanius¡¯s movements, and could hear the Regulator¡¯s approach from several meters away. That was a downside of wearing such heavy carapace armor, Hager had learned from Carmichael. He wondered if she had escaped Gronheim¡¯s clutches. If any could have, she would have.


    ¡°Snarky. I¡¯ll remember that,¡± Kanius warned the Scion. ¡°Allow me to make a guess.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± Hager shrugged.


    ¡°Intent to Commit Holy Ordo Impersonation, Precinct Interrogation¡ªThree Days¡ªfollowed by deference to Ordo Authority,¡± Kanius recited another sentencing.


    ¡°It¡¯s only an impersonation if it¡¯s false, and it¡¯s only intent if it isn¡¯t done,¡± Hager growled.


    ¡°We shall see about its falsity. I have dealt with the Inquisition in the past. I confess I would not be surprised at all if they had activities in our Underhive Gangs. The surprising part, to me, is that you did not reach out to the Arbites for assistance on such a local matter,¡± Kanius grilled Hager. ¡°It¡¯s almost a personal insult, if you actually do serve the Ordos. I thought we were on better terms than that. So go on, then, what is the name of your almighty Inquisitor, hm?¡±


    ¡°His name will serve you little, for his identity will appear deceased,¡± Hager shrugged.


    ¡°That does not do you many favors, Scion,¡± Kanius shook his head. ¡°One may even wager it damns you more.¡±


    ¡°His name is not known to Jethro and Jack, and he¡¯d prefer it remain that way,¡± Hager explained to the Regulator.


    ¡°But you know it. I¡¯ll play along; I won¡¯t tell them, on the off chance you¡¯re telling the truth,¡± Kanius offered.


    ¡°I have done little else. We are under explicit orders to cooperate with any Arbites we encounter, but we are likewise ordered not to interact with them if it can be helped. It has seemed it could not be helped in this case,¡± Hager explained. ¡°His name is Inquisitor Callant Blackgar, and he will scour this world clean to get what he needs from it.¡±


    ¡°Well, if this Blackgar fellow does exist, is alive, and is an Inquisitor, I will look forward to dealing with and assisting him howsoever I can,¡± Kanius replied with a nod. ¡°If any of those fail to be true, you should bid the Throne¡¯s Beneficence farewell, for your services to His Imperium will be at an end.¡±


    ¡°For your sake, you had better hope you find and help him,¡± Hager muttered.

 Chapter 41 - Trial

    I just want to be perfectly, crystal clear with this¡ªare you certain these criminals are lying about Inquisitorial ties?


    Yes, of course I am. And even if I am wrong, it matters not. Inquisitors step on each other¡¯s toes all the time; it¡¯s never pleasant, but your world won¡¯t be ended over it.


    How can you be so certain, though?


    Because I¡¯ve served with the Inquisition for over a century in Ixaniad, and I can very confidently tell you that there is no Callant Blackgar, and that there never was. Give these cretins a trial if you wish, but I would have of them myself when you are done.


    But the assault on my son¡ª


    Yes, it is regrettable, Gronheim. But I have facilitated your trade to Amnes Minoris for some time now, and as your partner in that endeavor, I reserve the right to conduct my own interrogation of those that threaten it so.


    ***


    ¡°Ugh, a most detestable sight, is it not?¡± Vrun Ethrael protested upon arrival to the Great Halls of Skardak, surrounded by his own personal retinue of guards that may as well have been a private army. He turned and gestured to that makeshift army. ¡°At least the room is soundproof, or so those surface dwellers say. You there, line these walls. The sight of our House¡¯s strength is at least mildly more appealing than this horribly decrepit fa?ade of a formal space. Ah, Gronheim, for what inanity have you summoned us down from the skies?¡±


    ¡°My apologies to ask this of the oh-so wonderful and splendorous Houses of Skardak such as Ethrael,¡± Severant Gronheim replied, flanked by Scodd Gronheim¡ªwhose face was swollen from recent augmetic reconstitution surgery¡ªand a hooded figure of peculiar but nevertheless decadent and vibrant purple dress that Ethrael did not recognize. Flanking the trio was Gronheim¡¯s own personal guard, which numbered comparably to Ethrael¡¯s, much to his disdain. The unknown individual also had a personal guard of their own, and while lesser in size, Ethrael hated to admit to himself that they appeared much better equipped. At least they also spread out to decorate the room, too, he decided. ¡°But the efforts of House Gronheim in the Undercity were subjected to a rude interruption, and I as much wanted to give the other Houses the means to query our cretinous assailants as to investigate their ties to neighboring Houses¡ªyours not included in that regard, of course.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ethrael nodded. Ethrael knew better, and that the accusation was as much for his House as any other, but he also knew he would behave much the same as Gronheim in this situation¡ªwhich also irked him as their comparably-sized militias had. ¡°Well, at the very least, can we see this process expedited? I have little desire to share the air of these surface dwellers.¡±


    ¡°Most certainly, I share the sentiment,¡± the senior Gronheim nodded. He then turned to his son. ¡°Boy, go sit in the witness booth. The Administratum will want this trial to have at least some semblance of legitimacy.¡±


    ¡°But I am still¡ª¡± Scodd protested.


    ¡°What? Bruised around the edges?¡± Severant shot back. ¡°Your victimhood will be shown in full display as much to evidence the depravity of these criminals as to wound your ego. Consider this embarrassment a lesson for your failure, as you have embarrassed your House likewise. Go, boy. Ah, House Janion, a pleasure!¡± Severant exclaimed as Scodd begrudgingly obeyed his father, who stepped forward to greet Zeng Janion. Ethrael had little desire to interact with his peers any more than necessary, and so left Gronheim to answer for his summons. Ethrael took the second seat on the council¡¯s bench, sitting across from the unknown man that had entered behind Gronheim. Ethrael studied the man a moment more, but gleamed nothing new before a pair of shimmering purple eyes locked with his from beneath the man¡¯s cowl. Ethrael was not one for shame or terror, but knew in an instant to look away from the man¡¯s gaze.


    Representatives of a dozen Houses took seats upon the council, each having been tediously greeted by Gronheim and given the same rehearsed voidshit that Gronheim had explained to Ethrael. Each House brought with them their own private militias, though Ethrael¡¯s, Gronheim¡¯s, and the unknown man¡¯s seemed the most formidable. Ethrael wondered if the man was an Imperial representative of some sort, perhaps a trade partner of Gronheim¡¯s. That seemed most likely. The nobles of the Houses sat uncomfortably with one another, as none wanted to say something that could give any other the slightest political or economical edge or insight against them. Ethrael was the one to break the awkward silence between the nobles: ¡°Gronheim, expediency, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± Severant nodded. ¡°Regulator, please fetch the defense,¡± he bid to Ramiel Kanius, who stood near to the entrance of the room in full carapace armor, arms crossed behind his back. Kanius nodded, then marched out of the room before returning a few moments later with a trio of shackled individuals¡ªone of them very short¡ªwhose heads had been covered under sightless armaplas. Kanius led them to the bench before removing their facial coverings, revealing the group of men that had very obviously had information ¡®extracted¡¯ from them already by the Arbites. ¡°Thank you, Regulator. Can you identify them?¡±


    ¡°Before you are seated Silas Hager, Jack Harr, and Jethro Rhyme,¡± Kanius reported.


    ¡°And where did you find them?¡±


    ¡°They were captured as part of a gunfight within the borders of established House Gronheim territory,¡± Kanius answered.


    ¡°Were there others?¡±


    ¡°There were. Most are dead. One is missing.¡±


    ¡°Are you shitting me?¡± the swollen face of Scodd Gronheim shouted.


    ¡°Boy! Be quiet!¡± Severant yelled back. The event managed to perk the trio up, as they inferred from Scodd¡¯s objection that Bliss Carmichael was still out there somewhere. And if that was the case, their lives were not yet forfeit. Still, there were a dozen private armies packed into the room; Harr and Jethro knew that any forceful extraction was next to impossible.


    Hager knew otherwise.


    ¡°Regulator, am I correct in understanding that they identified themselves as Agents of the Inquisition?¡± Severant asked.


    ¡°You are,¡± Kanius nodded.


    ¡°Are you daft?¡± Janion exclaimed, standing upright immediately, glaring at Gronheim. Other nobles fell into similar exclamation. ¡°What is this, Gronheim? Is this a trick, a ruse to get us all on the Inquisition¡¯s shitlist?¡±


    ¡°The nature of their Inquisitorial tenure is an allegation¡ªtheirs,¡± Gronheim explained to Janion. ¡°Was their claim verified, Regulator?¡±


    ¡°It was not,¡± Kanius reported.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°The identity of the Inquisitor they named could not be found as operating in Ixaniad,¡± Kanius explained.


    ¡°Who did we name?¡± Jethro whispered to Harr and Hager.


    ¡°The defense will remain silent unless spoken to,¡± Ethrael declared. ¡°Sit down, Janion. Those legs of yours are not big enough to hold the rest of you up for long,¡± he smiled, bringing the group of nobles in mocking jeers.


    ¡°Shut it, Ethrael,¡± Janion sneered, but sat himself down nevertheless. ¡°Continue, Gronheim.¡±


    Gronheim furrowed his brow at the thought of receiving permission from Janion to speak, but continued nevertheless. ¡°Regulator, were any motives divulged by the defense for their actions?¡±


    ¡°They did not reveal such information in questioning, no,¡± Kanius replied.


    ¡°Well, defense, I offer you the chance to enlighten us as to your operation now, with the incentive of more lenient sentencing,¡± Gronheim declared. Silence followed. ¡°This would be when you speak up, Ratling.¡± The nobles stared silently toward the trio, who in return stared emptily toward the nobles. Silence remained.


    ¡°Alright, different tactic, I¡¯m getting impatient,¡± Ethrael declared. ¡°The first one of you who tells us how you came to this world and what you were planning on doing here, and who set you up for that, gets to walk completely free. The others will die.¡±


    On ¡®die,¡¯ an almost-imperceptible bump trembled through the trial room. A few noble eyes narrowed slightly, noticing both the bump and its timing, and wondering if Ethrael had choreographed the event; he had not, as evidenced by his own curiosity. However, none paid it much mind¡ªperhaps it was merely a kick in the pipes of the building, or some other jumpy surface dweller mechanism.


    Harr, however, noticed that Hager¡¯s gaze had shifted, and turned his head to follow it toward a large window across the room. He thought he saw the shadow of a man fly across its stained glass, but was not sure. ¡°What was that?¡± Harr whispered.


    ¡°Wrath,¡± Hager responded quietly.


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    ¡°The defense will speak up and respond to my offer,¡± Ethrael demanded. ¡°You have assaulted a noble, deprived a House of its resources, conspired to interfere in further noble activity, and defiled the name of the Holy Ordos. In the name of the God Emperor, you will enlighten us to your intents or meet a more catastrophic end than you can imagine.¡±


    ¡°The defense is unimpressed,¡± Hager replied.


    ¡°We are not here to impress you with the means to which we can end you, and your contempt is but another tally on a long list of sins to justify your fate,¡± Janion grumbled.


    Another sound emanated through the room, muffled and suppressed by the room¡¯s soundproofing. Nevertheless, that it was a bang! was unmistakable; an explosion of some sort from a courtyard of the courthouse. Hager had been led through it, and felt the warmth of sunlight on his skin and a breeze of wind; he wagered it was without a roof, perhaps an open-aired garden or some other exposed area. But he knew it was large enough for vehicles he once called home. And when that muffled explosion had passed, he listened more closely to the quiet chatter of soundproofed lasfire, which only he seemed to notice.


    ¡°Kanius,¡± Hager muttered. Until then, the Regulator had maintained a stoic appearance, moving only to report to the council of noblemen. ¡°I had not lied to you. He is here.¡± The Arbites looked down at Hager, and for the first time since Hager had laid eyes on him, released a twitch through his right hand of subtle unsurety.


    ¡°What did he just say to you, Regulator?¡± Gronheim demanded, out of earshot.


    ¡°I think it may be wise to draw this trial to a pause, sir,¡± Kanius replied.


    ¡°You think? And why is that?¡±


    ¡°Because you do not possess the men to stop what is about to walk through those doors,¡± Hager answered.


    ¡°Has your interrogation at the hands of the Arbites robbed you of your faculties, Hager? If you think some undercity ganger is going to spring you from jail, you are sorely mistaken. Look around you¡ªthere are several armies present to ensure that justice is served today,¡± Ethrael scoffed.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know an army if it was standing right in front of you, which I think is about to happen,¡± Hager laughed, and only then noticed that the gunfire coming from the rest of the building had intensified to a point that, while still muffled through the room¡¯s soundproofing, was very plainly audible. ¡°Any man that doesn¡¯t want to die should drop their weapons now. They won¡¯t do much good to what¡¯s coming through there, anyhow.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Jethro asked Hager, poking his head around Harr¡¯s torso.


    Shortly after being asked that question, a high-pitched but short lived screetch! punctured everyone¡¯s ears¡ªno, their minds. It disoriented the entire room, save for Hager, who had heard it many times, and if there was ever going to be any doubt behind his reply to Jethro, it had then been removed. ¡°The boss is here.¡±


    Hager folded his hands, shackled at their wrists, upon the bench before him, and looked forward with emotionless confidence. Internally, however, he was ecstatic; he had not seen the boss in years. Fitting that their reunion should have so many guns and explosions present. Shortly after his hands had folded, the room shook as though enduring a split-second earthquake. Dust fell from the ceiling, and cracks formed along the walls of the room. ¡°All units, watch the door and the windows!¡± shouted the man whom no one seemed to recognize, with the most well-equipped soldiers to his name. They formed up around the council and did as instructed, and not wanting to be left out, the other nobles hastily gave similar orders to their own private armies.


    ¡°Regulator, terminate the defense, now!¡± Gronheim shouted.


    ¡°No, sir, I do not believe I will,¡± Kanius shook his head, and backed away from everyone involved, standing against the far walls of the room.


    ¡°Wise,¡± Hager muttered, managing a grin. Then, with another room-wide, brain-piercing screetch! the might of Holy Terra revealed itself.


    The doors of the room blew open and in almost the same instant a swath of the nobles¡¯ soldiers were vaporized with the sound of concurrent, synchronous Bolter-fire. Three volleys of Bolts were loosed before any return shots were fired, and another two before any of the noble¡¯s forces even identified what it was they were shooting at. Those five volleys eviscerated much of the forward lines the nobles haphazardly threw together, including some of those from the unknown-man. And then, finally, the sight of the invading force was understood by all¡ªand that threw the defenders into further disarray.


    Nine suits of jet-black power armor marched forward in a lockstep, V-shaped formation, Bolters snapping to new targets and picking them off in perfect, symphonic unity. With each stride, the nine invaders each felled a single defender. Advancing, aiming, killing, advancing. Their assault was immaculate in the most divine sense, and effective to the extreme. Autogun bullets and lasrifle shots bounced off their armor mostly harmlessly, save for the occasional scratch. Even if the defenders fought to the last man, holding the room and halting the intruder¡¯s advance was hopeless. But every second that went by, more and more men surrendered outright, dropping weapons and falling to the ground in prayer. ¡°Oh Most Merciful Emperor, forgive me my sins, and allow me to offer You my life in a battle worthy of Your cause, for this is not,¡± was one such prayer that made Hager¡¯s grin widen. The nine Sisters paid it no mind, in the literal sense¡ªthe moment anyone surrendered, they were no longer targets, and the Sisters simply advanced by them harmlessly. The acceptance of surrender compounded and cascaded through the defenders, further amplifying the rate at which arms were laid down.


    The Sisters needed mere seconds to slaughter or otherwise force the room into complete submission. When they did, another screetch! pierced through the room, during which the Sisters cocked their heads to the side in unison. They then backed away from the council of shuddering, groveling nobles, overseeing the room from the entrance they had taken. After that, the windows of the room exploded inward, and a host of men and women quite literally flew into the room, each carrying heavy lasrifles. Most stayed airborne, though one landed next to Hager. ¡°Been a while, sir,¡± the man said, grinning. ¡°Shackles seem unbecoming of you.¡±


    ¡°I believe we are of equal rank now, Strike-1. Don¡¯t call me sir,¡± Hager chuckled.


    ¡°You¡¯re sounding more like the boss,¡± Strike-1 laughed. ¡°We¡¯ll get you out of here, sir.¡± The man then turned toward the now-empty council and addressed it. ¡°House representatives will return as they were. Be seated at the council.¡± Slowly, warily, the nobles did as ordered, eyes darting every which way toward the nine Sisters at the back of the room pointing Bolters their way, to the multitude of men and women hovering overhead, and to their ¡®armies¡¯ that had either been annihilated or coerced into repentance. ¡°I am told there is an Arbites present in this room?¡±


    ¡°That is I, sir,¡± Kanius nodded, stepping forth from the walls. ¡°Are you Inquisitor Callant Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°Ha! No. I am Luther Vaigg, Agent of the Ordo Hereticus. You will meet the man of whom you speak shortly if you do as I say. Then I suggest you forget about his existence. For now, free these three,¡± Luther instructed, nodding toward the shackled trio. Kanius hesitated, a moment of doubt still in his mind, but a quick glance at the nine Sisters at the back of the room eliminated that soon enough. He freed his prisoners and backed off, letting them rise. Then freed, Harr¡¯s eyes naturally flicked to the doorway the Sisters had secured, a natural instinct to eye for escape. In doing so, however, he beheld what he could only describe as a titan of a human being¡ªa tenth, gigantic Sister that towered over the rest, still adorned in jet-black power armor, and while they did possess a Bolter holstered along their waist, they instead held a chainblade the size of a man in a single hand. She looked so utterly impressive to Harr that he believed she could have emptied the entire room on her own about as quickly as the nine other Sisters had.


    Screetch!


    The nine Sisters again looked to the side in unison before forming up along a once-red carpeting that had since been darkened with blood to a maroon color, four standing on each side of the carpet. That left one extra, who accompanied a woman familiar to Harr further into the room¡ªIntel-1. The Inquisitor strode forth through the divide of kneeling Sisters to greet Luther with a handshake. ¡°Hello, Mr. Vaigg. How is your apparatus holding up?¡±


    ¡°Without hitch, Ms. Trantos,¡± Luther smiled, bowing courteously to the Inquisitor.


    ¡°Excellent. And Mr. Hager, I thought I told you to look after yourself,¡± she scolded him.


    ¡°My apologies, Ms. Trantos,¡± Silas chuckled. ¡°You know how the job is.¡±


    ¡°All too well. Mr. Vaigg, escort them out of here. And call your damn troops down, they¡¯re buzzing around like flies up there,¡± she muttered. Luther whistled to his fliers, who subsequently landed with grace and began disarming the surviving members of the nobles¡¯ forces. While Luther escorted the room¡¯s former prisoners out, Intel-1 addressed the room. ¡°Noble Houses of the Ixaniad Sector, I am Inquisitor Zha Trantos, Ordo Hereticus. You undoubtedly seek answers as to the events of today. You will have them¡ªbut only once we have ascertained all that we wish to know from you first. Status quo: We had been engaging in an undercover operation on this world that went¡­,¡± she began, and then glanced to Scodd Gronheim, whose still-swollen face had now fallen into tears at the thought of offending the Inquisition. ¡°Afoul. Now we¡¯re here in force, stealth having proven insufficient. Make no mistake: the last time Inquisitor Callant Blackgar set foot in a Hive City, by the time he left it it had been leveled to the ground. Obey every command given to you without hesitation or restraint, and that fate will not occur today. Nod in committing to compliance.¡±


    By the time Zha¡¯s introductory speech had finished, Luther had led the trio out of the room, whereupon Harr was immediately assaulted by a hug. Harr returned it at once, unexpected though it was. Luther made to interrupt the pair, but Hager shook his head. ¡°Let them,¡± Hager said, and Luther nodded before leading Hager and Jethro on. Harr and Carmichael, meanwhile, continued to hold each other in silence for the time being, each not having known whether the other had made it. Hager, meanwhile, outpaced Luther¡¯s step, and fell into a brisker stride toward one of many familiar gunships that was parked in its landing, whereas others were coming and going. A man, shrouded in a black cloak, stood upon the top of its landing bay door, while two women sat over its edge, watching all the soldiers mill around.


    ¡°Castecael, you should probably get in there,¡± the man declared, then nodded to Hager. One of the two women¡ªblonde, with red eyes, like Bliss¡¯s¡ªjumped off the landing bay door and, while bidding farewell to her friends and greeting Hager, made for the courtroom.


    ¡°Hello, sir,¡± Hager nodded in return. ¡°Thanks for the assist.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure, friend. But stop calling me sir,¡± the man replied, making Hager and the other woman break into laughter. ¡°Law, get him out of here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m able enough to fight, sir,¡± Hager insisted with a nod.


    ¡°I know you are, Silas. But the fighting is done. Mostly. I will have use for you in another fray soon enough; you best rest up for that,¡± the man replied.


    ¡°Come on, Silas. I have so many embarrassing stories to tell you about Cal and Lucy,¡± the woman¡ªLaw¡ªadded, rising to her feet.


    ¡°Looking forward to them, Mirena,¡± Hager grinned, then nodded to the man once more before climbing aboard the vessel. He did not get far before the man grabbed one of his arms, stopping him, before offering him a hand. Hager took it, but pulled the man into a full embrace, which the man was happy to return. When they parted ways, the man leapt out from the vehicle, sundering the marble floor upon which he landed, hinting at a hidden heft beneath his cloak.


    ¡°Anwar, Sven, Varnus. It¡¯s time.¡±


    The man¡¯s landing shook Harr from his hug with Carmichael, and his gaze fell toward the pair of Crusaders and the Tech-Priest that accompanied the man. ¡°Is¡­that him?¡±


    ¡°In the flesh. Mostly. The most powerful man in the system, yes,¡± Carmichael nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I already told him your name.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you did what?¡±


    ***


    And it is there, finally, that Jack Harr¡¯s role as prologue to this story gives way to my own tale. In a bloodied, broken, and sundered courtroom of Skardak Tertium, I revealed myself to the enemy for the first time since Hestia Majoris. And in so doing, I doomed all Ixaniad to unknowable horror.


    Though, that came much later.

 Chapter 42 - Duel

    Gallius Anwar and Lanto Sven matched my pace from the front, while Massino Varnus kept up from behind. I had spent ample time with all three to form near-instinctual bonds in that regard, Varnus having masterfully crafted a literal appendage for me, as well as the armor within which I then and now gird myself. He had made a helmet for me, though I did not wear it then; humanizing myself with the sight of my face was the one small courtesy I intended to give to the nobles that had brought me from the skies.


    Anwar and Sven, meanwhile, were two Crusaders of House Trion. Unlike the Houses that had put on a sham trial of my Agents, Trion was actually of some use. The Crusader pair were each covered head-to-toe in carapace armor, donning more of it, even, than Silas would in full gearing. Not an inch of their skin was exposed to the world, all being hidden behind silver plate, red robes, and stygian Inquisitorial garb. They were my personal vanguard¡ªsomething I was reluctant to accept but have since come to appreciate in the business of exterminating traitors to my ilk¡ªand wielded large suppressor shields and electrified power swords to keep even the most violent and abhorrent opponents at bay.


    In any event, the four of us marched from the Bird to the courtroom we had besieged, finding its original occupants shellshocked. I surveyed the scene of destruction for a moment before being thrust back into my role of Inquisitor to the situation by a hand gently falling upon my shoulder. I had unintentionally stopped in my stride next to Lucene, who nodded to me from behind her Sabbat-pattern helmet but otherwise said nothing. I nodded in return, then looked back toward the wanting and waiting nobles. +Wait here,+ I instructed my Crusaders, Varnus, and Lucene. The pair of shields in front of me split apart, revealing a path of a bloodstained red carpet for me to take through the room, kneeling Sisters on either side. I walked further along that path, and as I passed the Sisters, they bowed their heads to me. I thought it was a bit much, personally, but I also knew I had the extreme honor of possessing their absolute faith, that they believed my prosecution of the heretic to be divine judgment. Who is to say it is not?


    ¡°You¡¯re Blackgar at last, then?¡± Severant Gronheim asked as I descended deeper into the room. His name was at the forefront of his mind, carried by his ego. That much was similar for the entire host of nobles before me. ¡°There has been conflicting information on your presence in Ixaniad, Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°By design, Severant,¡± I growled. ¡°I understand some of my Agents have fallen in service to the Throne in this operation, is that correct?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± an Arbites officer reported to me. Unlike the nobles, I did not then know his name; his ego was more reserved. Nevertheless, his armor bore signs of his rank¡ªRegulator. ¡°There was a shootout¡ª¡± he began, but I held up a hand. It was not my augmetic hand, but it was heavily armored all the same. Much of my armor, save for my arms, remained obscured beneath stygian robes.


    ¡°I know the details. I address those on their hands and knees in this room, now: You pray for repentance, and I intend to offer it. Able men and women are of great value to the Imperium. Those who believe they possess the mettle for the Inquisition and wish to serve the Throne anew, rise to your feet,¡± I declared. Anger mounted as the forefront emotion of the nobles as almost the entirety of their private armies stood up at once, and all eventually rose in time, again motivated by their peers. ¡°Harakoni, escort these volunteers out of the room for processing and screening.¡±


    ¡°You intend to rob us, then, Inquisitor?¡± Vrun Ethrael asked. An unwise question that tried my already limited patience, and I must have evidenced that, as almost as soon as he asked the question he seemed to slump back in his chair.


    ¡°If I am to rob you of anything, Vrun, it will be your life. Your assets are yours only until they are of direct use to the Inquisition. I have decided to reappropriate them. I expect they will be put to better use in my charge, anyways. Worry not¡ªmost will not pass screening. Those will be returned to you. No, Vrun, I will not rob you. Not as your lot has robbed me of mine,¡± I growled in reply. ¡°Speaking of which,¡± I started, and stepped closer to the court. Most fell away from me, slinking back into their chairs as Ethrael had. But they were not yet my quarry. Instead, I turned to a small, swollen, quivering being who could barely be called a man, especially given the smell of urine emanating from him. ¡°You¡¯re the boy?¡±


    ¡°Whatever you intend to ask my son, you can ask of me, Inquisitor,¡± Severant Gronheim objected, standing to his feet. I turned to face him, and one look at my face was enough to shut him up and force him down into his chair. I looked back to Scodd Gronheim, who was nodding eagerly and worriedly.


    ¡°Was she worth all this?¡± I asked him, referring to Carmichael.


    ¡°N-no sir,¡± he shook his head, still quivering.


    ¡°Hmph. Would have been crudely humorous had you said yes,¡± I grunted, then clapped a mechanized hand on his shoulder and felt his heart skip a beat. ¡°You¡¯re concerned because you felled some men and women loyal to the Inquisition. You worry of what I will do to you for that. Ease up, kid. It is the risk of subterfuge; a risk they took and paid the price for. They did so knowingly. I will not fault you for defending your place in the universe,¡± I told him, and then took a step away. I felt his emotions ease behind me, thinking that he might yet get away from the horror of my existence. ¡°Of course, there¡¯s the matter of your flect trade, which I will not forgive,¡± I started, and at that the kid¡¯s terror finally overpowered him¡ªhe passed out in his chair. +Castecael. Lucene, accompany her,+ I ordered the pair.


    I then walked up to Severant Gronheim and dropped the flect that Carmichael had given me onto the table between us. I stared silently at him for a few moments. He, meanwhile, contributed to raising the humidity in the room with the rivers of sweat pouring from his backside. ¡°Do we d-discuss this here?¡± he finally asked, voice sounding more like his son¡¯s.


    ¡°I am here, am I not?¡± I returned.


    ¡°I-I think it best if-if-if we speak p-privately, In-Inquisitor,¡± Severant suggested.


    ¡°I don¡¯t agree, Severant,¡± I sighed. ¡°But as you wish,¡± I shrugged, then thrust a hand forward and grabbed the senior Gronheim by his collar, pulling him over the table. +He¡¯s here, isn¡¯t he?+ I asked his mind.


    ¡°What are you¡ª¡±


    +Are you as dense as you appear, Gronheim? I¡¯m in your head. Think your thoughts, do not say them aloud,+ I frowned.


    Yes, yes he is. He has such power, such connections.


    +I have more.+


    You may think you do, but he wields terror itself beneath his cloak.


    +We are alike in that regard, then.+ I then thrust Gronheim back into his chair, having gotten what I needed from him, and picked the flect back up; I would destroy it later. Cloak. Most of the nobles were dressed in robes, but only one could be described as possessing a cloak. ¡°Ms. Trantos, take Gronheim and his son to interrogation. Get everything from them, particularly to do with their flect enterprise,¡± I declared. ¡°Sister, do continue to assist her. And Lucene, escort Castecael from the room for the time being.¡± Zha, her accompanying Sister, Lucene, and Castecael all nodded to me, then gestured for Severant to follow them. Scodd had just managed to come to, but went white again as I uttered the word ¡®interrogation¡¯ and things did not improve for him with the rest of my orders. I then turned to the eight other Sisters. +Cover the windows.+ They accepted the order silently, and moved across the room as a single unit while Zha and her Sister departed with the Gronheims. The Sisters then knelt before each of the now-shattered windows, Bolters trained laterally across the courtroom. I then looked to the singular entrance of the room, where Zha was departing through and my other comrades resided. ¡°No one leaves,¡± I instructed them when Zha had gone.


    ¡°What is this, Inquisitor?¡± Zeng Janion and the Regulator asked me in unison, though Janion was more appalled in contrast to the deadpan tone of the Arbites. Both of their queries were partially masked by the clanging of two suppressor shields being slammed together in front of the exit, my Crusaders blocking the way like a tank. Lucene, meanwhile, decided to sheath her Eviscerator and draw her Bolt Rifle. Varnus did nothing out of the ordinary, though his bionics and augmetics were ever moving and observing the world around him. I did not doubt he could respond as needed at a moment¡¯s notice.


    I ignored the noble and replied to the Regulator. ¡°You should stand away. You¡¯re not trained for this, Regulator,¡± I warned him. He heeded my warning, moving out of the line of fire of the Sisters by the window.


    ¡°It¡¯s him, isn¡¯t it?¡± Vrun Ethrael asked, and I followed his gaze across the court to a cloaked man indeed. Ethrael was a step later to understanding than the Phaenonite was, as the Phaenonite had already risen to his feet and begun eyeing me in a deep, purple gaze.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Blackgar, is it me?¡± the Phaenonite asked.


    ¡°I invite you to come quietly, without making a mess. I will consider that before your execution,¡± I told him. I scanned his surface-level thoughts, not wanting to venture too deeply into the mind of one such as his; I had had intimate enough exposure to Gale Ryke¡¯s mind to know that such a thing was unfathomably dangerous. Nevertheless, I found this Phaenonite¡¯s identity: Gerhart Heirene, Ordo Malleus.


    ¡°You¡¯re not that foolish, are you, Blackgar? Or perhaps you are, if you believe I¡¯m intimidated by Bolt or Chain,¡± Heirene shook his head. ¡°A wonder, then, that you slew Ryke and Silverman. Must not have been their day.¡±


    ¡°Not yours either,¡± I assured him. ¡°Houses will remain seated where they are,¡± I ordered the nobles. ¡°Easier to protect you that way.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and here I was going to offer that they be left out of this altogether,¡± Heirene admitted. ¡°I have little interest in harming the merchandise.¡±


    ¡°Merchandise?¡± Ethrael growled, as offended as he should have been. The nature of that comment would need to be a topic for a later interrogation. Heirene and I ignored his objection.


    ¡°You know, the room Ryke and Silverman died in looked not terribly unlike this one, Heirene,¡± I told him, moving to stand in the center of the court. ¡°At least, if one ignores all the casings and weapon damage my forces have caused here. Food for thought.¡±


    ¡°Still not intimidated by the posturing, Blackgar. Lives are fickle things; the claiming of them a simple task. I rather assume my peers overestimate you,¡± Heirene shrugged.


    ¡°Now¡¯s your chance to prove it so,¡± I offered, extending my augmetic arm in an unassuming hand gesture as I spoke. In reality, however, I was aiming; when I had finished speaking, I launched my augmetic hand across the room, it being tethered on a wire to the rest of my arm. It grappled onto Heirene¡¯s face from afar before I yanked him over the court table, pulling him toward me. He seemed enthused that I was sparing him the walk over to me, and willed blades from his arms not unlike the warp-sorcery I had seen from Ryke and Silverman. Rather than attempt to sever the tether of my hand to my arm¡ªwhich would have been wise¡ªhe instead went along for the ride, and poised to strike at me when he neared.


    It must have surprised him, then, when I was able to block such slashes from him with my non-augmetic arm, shielded by the heavy ceramite power armor beneath my cloak. Such surprise was swiftly followed by shock when a ceramite fist buried itself in his face. Empty but armored hands smacked away and deflected any slashing attack the Phaenonite made against me, and from the outside looking in, it may have appeared as though I was merely toying with my prey.


    I was.


    Demoralization, if it existed then, was the point. Moreover, I was still irate that the Phaenonite¡¯s designs had cost me the lives of some of my operatives and threatened one of my closest friends. I needed a punching bag, and Heirene seemed eager to volunteer at first. That would not last.


    I did not then know what the Phaenonite cell had on me. I assumed they knew I was a Psyker. But the details of what I had done to Ryke and Silverman on Hestia Majoris should have been kept under lock and key. Of course, my once-Savant, Zha Trantos, had already identified that the Phaenonites were aware of her ¡®enviable¡¯ smiles of the past, so knowledge of the Hestia Majoris operation¡ªafter which I first put such a detail about Zha to scriptured permanence¡ªwas at least partially leaked.


    Regardless, after parrying a literal handful of slices from Heirene¡¯s armblades, he¡ªto his credit as a combatant¡ªmanaged to force me to a slight backpedal. In dodging under and away from a flurry of warped slashes, each of which whispered heresies through the air rather than creating any typical ¡®wooshing¡¯ sound, another weaponized demoralization of mine revealed itself. My black cloak swung wide, revealing my fully-armored form, but more importantly, the weapons I was not using. My Boltpistol; my Powersword; Drepane, my Nemesis Falchion. I could have been wielding these against the Phaenonite at any moment, but I did not need to. And the knowledge of that was a wound that cut deeply in a way that no blade ever could.


    Heirene, his pride shattered at the sight of my unused armaments, set upon me more furiously, as I had hoped he would. That provided the opportunity for yet another blow to his ego, though this also struck the body too; as Heirene surged forth in a blinded rage, I but winced a moment and focused roughly on his sternum. With what sounded like a thunderclap, I blasted Heirene across the room, invisible psychic forces slamming him through what was once his seat on the council and into the far wall. He nearly fell to his hands and knees from that hit, but caught himself in a stumble by sinking one of his blades into the floor. Blood, black as my own cloak, fell from his lips. I would need Varnus, or some of his techpriests, to decontaminate the room and collect or eradicate such samples of heresy.


    While Heirene gathered his breath from a blow that crushed even his warp-augmented body, I stood mostly still in the center of the courtroom, inviting him to try again. I say mostly still, because I did put one hand atop the hilt of my Nemesis Falchion, not that Heirene would have known what the weapon was from his view of it. I knew, from Ryke and Silverman, that the Phaenonites were capable of warpcraft among their varied heresies and would not chance the presence of such a thing with Heirene. If ever there would be a time for him to rely on whatever vile depravity he had embraced, it would be when his ego was as wounded as his physical form.


    And sure enough¡­


    Heirene, with a hiss, decorporealized into a cloud of black and purple smoke, his cloak being the only thing to remain mostly physical in the process, dangling and swinging wildly from the sickly concentration of foul villainy now hovering in the air. Two pinkish eyes compressed to slits of rage, and the whole cloud of his then-existence leapt into the air above the room and plunged down upon me. Cries of witchcraft, mercy, and other Throne-fearing expletives emerged from those of weaker wills in the room¡ªnamely, those not under my command. I, however, merely engaged my Nemesis Falchion as the cloud of Gerhart Heirene descended upon me. The moment the cloud neared me and entered my weapon¡¯s aura, it collapsed back upon the humanoid¡ªand thankfully still clothed¡ªform of my adversary, who in his shock proved defenseless from another ceramite fist shielding his face from view. I knocked him to the ground, then, before again obscuring his face behind a ceramite foot as I kicked him away.


    Heirene, now realizing he was perhaps out of his depth, scanned the room frantically, and that was the final straw for any remaining shreds of his ego. The most crushing blow of all was the fact that for every deplorable ability he possessed, my allies had not budged an inch, not in fear of their lives nor in seeing a need to assist me. Those guarding his exits did so in the absolute confidence that I could drive him into the ground on my own. And if they believed it, and if he had been beaten so thoroughly thus far, maybe Heirene should believe it too.


    ¡°Gerhart Heirene, Phaenonite Inquisitor, you are Excommunicate Traitoris, and a stain upon the glistening image of the Imperium. By my hands Foxon Silverman was flattened to a paste at the bottom of a crater, and Gale Ryke shredded from the inside out and turned to ash. By my hands, what fate will the Throne choose for you?¡± I growled, stepping up to my trembling, heresy-adorned foe.


    Defying even my expectations, Heirene managed to find it within himself to rise to his feet and vocally defy me further. Instead of answering my question, he deflected to a different, familiar topic. ¡°Your end, Blackgar, awaits you on Amnes Minoris. And it will be well designed,¡± he sneered, standing about an inch my taller.


    ¡°Ryke assured me of my end on Hestia Majoris. I promised him annihilation in return. Only one came to fruition. If by some miracle you do manage to end me, traitor, it will only be so because my service to the Throne is no longer required. His is the only prophecy that matters for those loyal to Him, which you are unabashedly not,¡± I replied. ¡°I have places to be, vermin, so if you intend to try to kill me yet, I¡¯d ask that you hurry.¡±


    He did try, if getting off a mere single slash of an armblade that was smacked aside in banal futility. Three blows struck his head and torso in reply, which saw him stumble a bit to my left side, losing his footing. In such an orientation, I delivered the finishing blow by launching my augmetic hand for his face and then some, smashing his skull into the ground a short distance from me. The ground cracked asunder, and I imagine the same could have been said of Heirene¡¯s head, but I knew he was still alive. Unconscious at last, thankfully, but alive.


    I stared at the defeated Phaenonite for a moment, then uttered a single name. ¡°Varnus.¡± My ally was near to my side in moments more, whirring of curious electronics accompanying heavier footfalls of the man of metal beneath crimson robes. Two emotionless orbs of green glass looked ever onward toward me. ¡°Dismantle him of his augmetics and, once done, throw him in Interrogation Chamber Sigma. Lucene will assist you however you need. Task a crew to quarantine this room and cleanse it of his impure flesh and blood,¡± I instructed him.


    ¡°It will be done, Inquisitor. Analysis: you fought with an estimated 93.3% tactical accuracy relative to your spacebound training; your surfacelevel acclimation is acceptable,¡± Varnus explained.


    ¡°Acceptable but imperfect,¡± I nodded in assent. ¡°Thank you for the analysis, my friend.¡± I then turned to the nobles, who at last seemed to relax after a tense few moments of my duel. That was a good sign; I sensed genuine relief among them that a servant of the Throne emerged victorious. ¡°Your Houses will cooperate in repairing this Hall,¡± I explained to them, and while some opened mouths to object, I raised a hand and cut them off at once. ¡°The costs will be refunded and paid for by the Gronheim estate, but it will be your manpower that does the deed. Callant Blackgar is dead. To utter otherwise is a heresy of the highest order; do so, and I will visit you for a second and final time. Do you understand?¡±


    The nobles nodded solemnly, and after a tense moment of reluctant agreeing, Ethrael confirmed, ¡°We do, Inquisitor. We thank you for your mercy today.¡±


    ¡°Any mercy today comes from the Throne, for I have little,¡± I replied. A moment later, the nobles winced from another screetch! which, as occurred previously, made my Sisters turn their heads to the side for a moment before they rose as one and held their Bolters against their chests in a stance of non-combat. Likewise, while Lucene descended deeper into the room to assist Varnus, my Crusaders at last opened the way to the exit by sliding their shields apart. ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    ¡°Inquisitor,¡± the Regulator spoke up to my side, approaching me from my side. He verbalized a sound, but I interrupted him at once, knowing his thoughts without needing to scan his mind.


    ¡°You wish to know whether there is a place for an Arbites among my retinue to repent for his inaccuracy in trying servants of the Inquisition,¡± I declared without turning to face him. He nodded. ¡°I may have use for you. Join me for a walk, Regulator.¡±

 Chapter 43 - Interrogation

    The surgery Massino Varnus conducted on Gerhart Heirene unfortunately took considerable time to perform, and the traitor Inquisitor¡¯s recovery took longer still. I was only concerned for his survival insofar as his ability to provide information on his cell was needed of the Inquisition. When he had served his usefulness, I would have him stand before the Throne in meeting his maker. I would not envy him that eventual conversation.


    The Gronheims, meanwhile, were still having their existence examined in full by Zha Trantos. I accepted Skardak Tertium¡¯s Regulator, Ramiel Kanius, into a probationary position among my ranks, tasking him with studying Trantos¡¯s interrogation of the Gronheim and telling me what he thought of her and them alike. I already knew what I thought of Trantos¡ªshe was incredible. While not a day goes by in which I do not miss my former Interrogator, Hans Okustin, I must admit she has managed to surpass him in virtually every regard. She is brutally capable in the extraction of information, incisive and analytical to the extreme. Were it not for my means to invade the minds of the unwilling, she may have even bested me in terms of interrogational skills. Her combat training was impeccable as well¡ªwhile she possessed a slightly frailer body than the two of us, she was able to understand, contend with, and strategize against both myself and Lucene Flint in combat.


    Zha Trantos was the very definition of a model Inquisitor, and as I may have been for Thaddeus Scayn, she may be my greatest success. Throne, were she in possession of equipment like my own, she may have been able to thwart Gerhart Heirene as capably as I had. It was an honor to guide her from the role of my Savant to that of my Interrogator, and then to that of a subordinate Inquisitor; it is a greater honor still that she yet serves the Throne by my side.


    Suffice to say that if the Gronheims once thought they were getting off a bit easy by being interrogated by the smaller and less-physically-imposing female Inquisitor of my retinue, they would have been more mistaken than they were in getting involved in the flect trade to begin with. Speaking of which, I turned the flect over to Varnus as well; rather than destroy it immediately, I wanted to keep it around a bit longer. Not only was it evidence on the trail we were following, but it may prove relevant in deciphering whatever it was that the Phaenonites have been up to, because I already knew that the bodily fluids of Pariahs and the importation of flects were not required for the mass-production of puppet Astartes. Been there, slaughtered that.


    That, then, left but a single task remaining for the day. It was one I approached with two close friends directly behind me¡ªLucene Flint and Xavier Gradshi, the latter of whom I had not seen in several decades. On our journey to this task of mine, we caught up, and I allowed him to express his sorrow for the loss of Coraline, a Psyker he trusted and had grown to admire. One of many casualties in our pursuit of the heretic, and I promised him the wrath of the Divine would befall her murderers. For now, however, our task was¡ªhopefully¡ªless violent.


    We entered Jack Harr¡¯s interrogation chamber from behind the Whiteshield aspirant. Unlike the Gronheims, at least, he was not chained to the table ahead of him, and he was able to turn to face our entry, whereupon he marveled at the sight of us. Lucene in particular, I think¡ªwhich was fair; I often do the same¡ªbut his eyes did scan over our trio in full. I was without my cloak now, but still adorned in the Ignatus power armor Varnus had personally created for me. Lucene, likewise, was still in her power armor. Gradshi did not possess power armor, but was impressive all the same, carrying himself nobly in fine green attire and with a tall power staff adorned with a handful of purity seals.


    ¡°Jack Harr,¡± I greeted him with a nod, smiling gently.


    ¡°Bliss had said she had told you my name,¡± he replied. ¡°Uh, should I rise to shake your hand?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You can if you¡¯d like,¡± I chuckled before stepping closer to him as he rose. Gradshi and Lucene stood by the door of the room. I did not feel his grasp, for my hand was still clad in ceramite, but I entertained the cultural greeting all the same. Afterward, I invited him to return to his seat, saying, ¡°Relax, Mr. Harr, it is my hope that the day¡¯s violence is concluded¡ªfor us, at least. Are you well? I understand you were in the, err, ¡®care¡¯ of the Arbites. Do you require medicae aid?¡± I asked as I circled around his table and took a seat across from him.


    ¡°I am fine, sir, thank you. Sorry, I believe I heard you tell Hager not to call you ¡®sir;¡¯ funny enough, he made the same request of that Luther fellow,¡± Harr admitted.


    I could not help but release a grin and nod. ¡°Yes, some of us have¡­grown close over the years. It feels wrong to entertain such formalities as we once used in the Guard. I understand you were part of the Guard as well, for a time, and quite capably at that?¡± I asked, intending to ease him into his background. I quickly realized I bit off more than I was ready for at the time.


    Harr¡¯s demeanor quickly changed, and the radiant mood he gave off swerved from optimistic innocence to a more fearful contempt. Upon sensing this, I at first cursed myself for having neglected the details of Harr¡¯s acquisition as Iblis Kyle¡ªthen Bliss¡ªhad told me of the violent ends she visited upon Harr¡¯s detail in Prareus¡¯s service. Had I, in reflecting on my closeness with my retinue, made Harr jealous of that? Perhaps so, but Harr¡¯s response indicated something more to the change in mood. ¡°Some years now, yes,¡± he replied. That answer emitted two red flags, both of which took me a moment to process. One was that a Whiteshield would not have had years under their belt. The second was the voice that gave the answer¡ªit was not the voice of Jack Harr. It was gruffer, and, sparing a crack in its pitch, deeper too. ¡°You¡¯re in my head, aren¡¯t you?¡± this not-Harr asked me. My eyes flicked upward, across the room, to meet the slits in Lucene¡¯s helmet where her eyes would be. At once, she began to tense up, and gradually, without a sound, began to reach for her Bolter.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked the man before me, also tensing up. I was not scared, then, of the answer to my question, but I will admit the shift in our conversation had caught me completely off-guard. In the moment, I felt like I was on Hestia Majoris again, in the Governor¡¯s office, learning of the full reach of an unknown foe. This, despite the fact that one of my best Agents had not merely recommended Jack Harr to me, but also had fallen for the man himself. But Jack Harr was a lie that even she had missed.


    ¡°It¡¯s not in there, then?¡± the not-Harr asked, gesturing to his head. ¡°Good. Inquisitor, the answer to that question¡ªwhich I will give¡ªwill likely see this conversation turn to violence. That is not my intent. I am not a creature who, cover revealed, would match yourself, your very tall Sister, or that Psyker in the back corner, and certainly not the three of you altogether. I ask, instead, that you hear what I have to say.¡±


    I looked on at the not-Harr before me, silently observing the change not only in his speaking patterns but also in his physical appearance. His face aged before my eyes; subtly, mind you, in the form of drearier eyes and taught cheeks, with lines upon his brow. Frankly, though his eyes differed in color, he almost looked like Silas Hager. Perhaps that is why I gave him the chance to speak, nodding to him in tense silence.


    ¡°I am Vilk Issik, Tempestus Scion of the Severan Dominate,¡± he replied. In a heartbeat, Lucene both drew and leveled her Bolter to the back of Issik¡¯s head. I but raised a finger from the table, asking for her hesitation, which she gave me and spared Issik¡¯s life.


    ¡°You were reprogrammed by the Phaenonites into being Jack Harr,¡± I surmised at once.


    Issik nodded before expanding on the notion. ¡°It was some time ago. Back then, perhaps I thought they were genuine Inquisitors like yourself. Obviously, the Severan Dominate holds the Inquisition as enemies, but on the ground, there are those of us na?ve hopefuls believing that some peaceful resolution could arrive between the Dominate and the Imperium. Whatever I thought at the time, I know now that they were not real Inquisitors. Not like you are. In any case, yes, they crafted Jack Harr from me, a do-good, faithful servant of the Imperium¡ªor so he thought, anyway. The fa?ade was to slip away in psychic contact with you, which it began to on the ground in Skardak Tertium, as you gave your orders to your Sisters and your men¡ªHarakoni, are they not?¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°That group is,¡± I admitted, but gave him little else save for a hand gesture to continue.


    ¡°Yes, well, the fa?ade fell away more here, and Vilk Issik emerged hence,¡± he shrugged. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to be him.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked, furrowing my brow.


    ¡°Please, what does my future look like as Vilk Issik? Assuming I even leave this room¡ªwhich I doubt you¡¯ll allow¡ªif by some miracle the best-case scenario occurred and I returned to my people, and even then if they didn¡¯t take me for a traitor for desertion, the Dominate is doomed. One subsector can¡¯t stand against the Imperium forever just because they dream to. Death is the only destiny in the Dominate, and Jack Harr knows that death beyond the Emperor¡¯s Light is filled with nightmare. And again, that¡¯s the best-case scenario,¡± he explained.


    ¡°What¡¯s the alternative?¡± I offered, probing his intents.


    He leaned in over the table toward me, making Lucene step forward and plant a hand on his shoulder to tug him away. Even so, now closer, he replied, ¡°I want you to destroy Vilk Issik. Jack Harr is in love with Bliss Carmichael, and she is fond of him in turn. He has a future in the galaxy. I do not. It helps that, in terms of matters of the flesh, she¡¯s quite the looker, too,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Give Jack Harr this body. Let him serve you as he so desperately desires. Make him real, and make me a myth.¡±


    ¡°There would be a price,¡± I replied, to which he nodded. ¡°You would pay it now, while I have you here,¡± I furthered. He nodded again, and eased back in his chair. Lucene did not step back from him, shrouding him in her shadow.


    ¡°What do you want to know?¡± Issik asked.


    ¡°Is your head safe?¡±


    ¡°As far as I¡¯m aware, yes. They wanted me to isolate and capture you. Their plan was to have you brought to Amnes Minoris. I don¡¯t know what they intend to do with you there, but they wanted you alive,¡± he answered.


    I gestured to Gradshi, waving him forward. He stepped up and readied himself to enter Issik¡¯s mind. ¡°No hesitation,¡± I told Lucene, not that she had ever hesitated to act in her life. She nodded in silence, and in return I nodded to Gradshi. He opened a psychic pathway into Issik¡¯s head, and joined me in descending into the Scion¡¯s subconsciousness. Our journey was as a plunge into darkness, as thought had not yet given form to our surroundings, nor to Issik¡¯s self-image or interpretation of our presence. In time, shadows coalesced into the rough imagery of the very room we had just been in, and the three of us appeared at a far larger table than the one we were sitting at in realspace. Issik appeared in his mind as he looked in real life, far away from me across the slab of steel between us. Gradshi was behind him, humanoid but faceless, lacking any distinguishing characteristics¡ªIssik had not gotten a good picture of him in his mind. Lucene was missing altogether, but standing to Issik¡¯s left was a younger-looking clone of himself: Jack Harr.


    ¡°Hello, Inquisitor,¡± both Issik and Harr nodded to me in unison. Their voices were just barely different from one another, such that their greeting was almost as an echo.


    ¡°Issik, was Prareus the Inquisitor you first met?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°No, I never got his name.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re confident it wasn¡¯t Prareus?¡±


    ¡°Contrary to this guy¡¯s memories,¡± Issik started, gesturing to Harr. ¡°I did in fact meet Prareus on Canicus.¡±


    ¡°When?¡± Harr asked in disbelief, turning to Issik. I winced a moment, and the scene reset itself, with Harr looking toward me. The question was not important to me, so I skipped past it in his inner dialogue. When their mind finished reconstituting the scene following the mental-skip, our conversation continued.


    ¡°Can you describe the first Inquisitor you met with, then?¡± I asked Issik.


    He mouthed a reply, but no words came out. Harr turned to him again in stunned confusion. Issik himself was shocked, and began to panic. I skipped past that panic and reconstructed the scene once more. ¡°Issik, the Inquisitor you met with is at the door. Gradshi, would you turn to let them in?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Gradshi replied with a nod, despite still not possessing a face or a mouth. Gradshi turned to the rear of the room and opened the door, where a figure even more formless than my fellow Psyker was waiting. The blur of a figure walked into the room, and I stood to greet them.


    ¡°You look well,¡± I tried, offering the figure a hand to shake. They took it, and while I felt the touch of flesh¡ªmy ceramite armor gone in the thoughtscape¡ªthere were no distinguishing characteristics about the hand¡ªno wear or softness of age, no coloration of skin. Nothing but a suppressed blur of swirling greys.


    +You are Callant Blackgar,+ the figure replied without voice.


    ¡°Have we met?¡± I asked.


    +Not yet.+


    ¡°But you¡¯ve met Vilk Issik,¡± I suggested. The figure, still formless, managed a nod. ¡°Where?¡±


    +Aerialon.+


    ¡°Are you there now?¡±


    +Yes, it is my station.+


    ¡°And what is the purpose of your station?¡±


    +Your undoing.+


    ¡°That never seems to work for your kind.¡±


    +Go to Amnes Minoris.+


    ¡°What awaits me there?¡±


    +Ruin.+


    ¡°I just met Gerhart Heirene. Do you know him?¡±


    +Go to Amnes Minoris.+


    ¡°What was Heirene¡¯s objective with the flect trade?¡±


    +Ruin.+


    ¡°What was Prareus Avrodam doing on Canicus?¡±


    +Go to Amnes Minoris.+


    ¡°What was being harvested from the Pariahs?¡±


    +Ruin.+


    I sighed, sensing the broken trend, and winced our guest away. I appeared back in my seat at the much-too-long table, again across from Issik and Harr. Gradshi had not moved in my resetting of the scene, but did walk himself back to Issik¡¯s rear. After mental reconstitution, I returned to questioning the pair. ¡°Issik, how many like you were the Phaenonites recruiting?¡±


    ¡°Hundreds, maybe thousands. They were pulling a lot of manpower from the Dominate. Perhaps the Dominate was colluding with them to sabotage beyond Calixis? I can¡¯t say. But the Dominate did give over more than an army¡¯s worth to them,¡± Issik replied.


    ¡°Any armor?¡±


    ¡°Plenty,¡± Issik confirmed. ¡°Armor, airships, yeah. Not much in the way of voidships to my knowledge; those Inquisitors seemed to possess them already.¡±


    ¡°Is the operation continuing? Are they still trading with the Dominate?¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± Issik nodded. ¡°Can¡¯t really say. I haven¡¯t exactly been out in the open world for too long now.¡±


    ¡°Harr, what do you want most out of life?¡± I asked, turning to the psychologically-younger of the pair.


    ¡°To serve the Throne, sir,¡± he replied. Issik nodded, confirming that programming.


    ¡°Have you no other needs?¡± I asked. Seemed a bit one-dimensional, frankly. Most zealots were, and I had seen plenty, even among my Ordo. One might think the Phaenonites did not need to build a complex character for Harr to possess, as he only needed to get close to me once before Issik¡¯s character could return. And, yet, Harr had fallen for Carmichael. Desire remained.


    ¡°I am one of trillions of servants of the Throne, sir. I need only be that much,¡± he replied.


    ¡°When Jack Harr dies, as many have in my service, why should I remember him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to, sir.¡±


    ¡°Do you need anyone to?¡±


    Finally, a pause.


    The pause was long enough to provide me with the opportunity to more accurately ask about his wants. ¡°Do you need Bliss to?¡±


    ¡°Bliss is¡­better than she needed to be,¡± he replied.


    ¡°To you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And what impact did that have on you?¡±


    ¡°It brought me here, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I would have hoped your loyalty to the Throne could have gotten you here,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°My loyalty stood out to Bliss. And she believes in the Throne in a more profound way than most others have. I admire that in her. I admire her.¡±


    ¡°You love her.¡±


    With a pause, ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Would that love ever compromise your relationship with the Throne?¡±


    ¡°No, sir, it would not,¡± Harr replied at once, possessing a touch of a resoluteness that I had assumed to be a character quality of Issik¡¯s. But, with the two having been mentally separated in this interrogation, it was indeed a facet of Harr¡¯s character.


    ¡®I think you have mistaken your love for hate, as that is as the Imperium would want of its citizenry. But you are not its citizenry, so it is important that you learn better. Hatred is a resource, yes. Love can wield it,¡¯ Lord Inquisitor Halloid van der Skar had told me during my trial some ages ago. Harr¡¯s love for Carmichael is what had brought us here. It had revealed Issik to me, and through him, my next destination: Aerialon. Love was a thing my foe could not anticipate. I intended to wield it.


    ¡°Issik, I will do as you requested, with a slight alteration. Your skills in combat and your tactical intuition as a Scion are too valuable to waste. Harr will inherit them. I suspect they had already bled through to Harr in times of desperation, as Bliss was quite impressed with Harr¡¯s performance in battle. Is this agreeable?¡±


    ¡°It is, sir, thank you,¡± Issik nodded to me.


    ¡°Harr, this conversation will seem to you like a distant dream. In time, you may forget the man sitting next to you. In time. But in the immediate, you will remember everything here. Do your best to keep it to yourself. Keep it from her. I think your relationship with her will demand of that. But to that end, I have immediate orders for you, too, as a member of my retinue,¡± I explained to him.


    ¡°I look forward to serving the Throne under your command, sir,¡± he nodded eagerly.


    ¡°Keep an eye on Bliss Carmichael. She is not who she says she is,¡± I told him.


    ¡°She had told me she was Iblis Kyle,¡± Harr admitted, which momentarily caught me in surprise.


    ¡°Well, she shouldn¡¯t have. But to rephrase: she is not Iblis Kyle. I do not know who or what she is, but if she is a threat to the Throne, you and I need to know as soon as possible.¡±

 Chapter 44 - Interlude

    Despite being a scent I had known for nearly 60 Terran years by then, the smell of Lucene doffing her power armor caught me ever off-guard. Most power armor was vacuum sealed, and hers and mine were no exceptions. I rarely wore mine save for combat training scenarios¡ªconducted with her¡ªwhereas she donned it daily and, at times, for great lengths of time. As a result, the body odor built up within her power armor achieved a degree of foulness that utterly betrayed the beauty of its owner. This was not a thing exclusive to her; as I understood it, the Astartes achieved results of even greater revulsion in doffing armor which they had worn for weeks at a time. Thankfully, I had only ever met with the representatives of the Chapters in full-armor.


    Regardless of the fate that befell my nose as she revealed herself to me, I as ever failed to pry my eyes away from the sight of her. After disarming herself of her power armor, she mounted her Bolter on the wall near to the rack that held said-armor. She then lifted her Eviscerator into the air and carried it with her near to our bed, which I was laying in and had been, until her scent had wafted to me, thinking about the day. As she neared, my eyes fell upon the Eviscerator, at which I reflected on the fact that it was once mine. The Chain weapon she had possessed in Hestia Majoris as Penitent had been surrendered to her Order upon her return for judgment. When she eventually found her way back to me decades later, I let her take my blade instead, for it suited her better on the battlefield. I had grown to prefer my power sword and Nemesis falchion, Drepane.


    Not long after inheriting my blade, she had carved a quartet of letters onto its backside, near to a purity seal: ¡®CB, LF.¡¯ Our initials. My eyes focused on our carved initials that evening while they were within my view, but eventually she lifted the blade over us both and mounted it on the wall behind our bed. I sat up in bed to greet her, and patted an area for her to sit next to me. She, however, had other things on her mind, and instead sat upon my lap and embraced me for an immediate kiss. Now more intimately near to the rancid scent emanating from her, I was at first repelled, which she accounted for, and simply chased her lips after mine. But, in a moment, we found unity together, and I embraced her in return, odiousness and all.


    We had been together like this for nearly 60 Terran years, and married for 30, Inquisitor and Sister Superior. They were, without question, the best years of my life. I did not shirk on my responsibilities as Inquisitor in that time, mind you; frequent consultations with Ordo Hereticus operatives on Quintus and organizing my network of Agents to conduct a shadow-war on the Phaenonites both required a great bit of effort. But, if it needs to be said, yes, Lucene and I had found time for ourselves as well. In the course of that time, we had even had two children¡ªa son and a daughter. Both were given unto the Schola Progenium after a few years. Most human cultures raised their children into adulthood, but at the forefront of Imperial conquest, there was no time nor resources for that. Instead, the Progenium would raise them into heroes of the Imperium of their own, never knowing us or being compelled to follow in our direct footsteps. Distancing ourselves from them also denied the archenemy a weakness to wield against us. It had been our fate, as children, as it was now that for our children.


    After a few moments of locking lips with her, I asked, ¡°Have I grown soft, Lucene?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel like it,¡± she grinned.


    ¡°Not what I meant,¡± I chuckled.


    ¡°I know what you meant,¡± she replied, and leaned in to peck my lips again. Afterward, she sat straight upon my waist, placing her hands on my shoulders as she towered over me. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Why do you?¡±


    ¡°I spared the Severan Dominate kid,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°And acquired a performative asset in the process,¡± she suggested. ¡°You said you were absolute in your destruction of Issik, right?¡±


    ¡°Save for his skillset, yes,¡± I nodded in confirmation.


    ¡°Then I don¡¯t see the problem. Psychologically, the Severan Dominate kid is dead, and Jack Harr is left in his flesh. Seems like a win-win to me. Do you think otherwise?¡± she asked.


    I shrugged again. ¡°Bodies are resources. Harr¡¯s body was once a resource of the enemy. Now we¡¯ve taken it for ourselves. But a more direct approach would have been to simply destroy it altogether.¡±


    ¡°The direct approach is the very thing your superiors have warned you against, following our journey on Hestia Majoris,¡± she reminded me.


    ¡°Always a mind to win an argument,¡± I sighed, smiling.


    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s just a mind that wins, period,¡± she laughed.


    ¡°You would have made a fine Inquisitor,¡± I nodded, a compliment I had given her dozens, if not hundreds of times by then.


    ¡°The title matters little. The service to the Throne is everything, which you know better than most,¡± she replied before changing the subject. ¡°How have the others managed?¡±


    ¡°The deconstruction of Heirene seems to have gone without hitch,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Ah, and that reminds me, I wanted to say you fought well, in that regard,¡± she told me, after which she leaned over me and went in for another kiss.


    ¡°93.3% effectively, as I understand it,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°Varnus and his numbers obscure the end result. You won, and bare-handed at that.¡±


    ¡°Mostly bare-handed.¡±


    ¡°The point, Cal, is that I have been doing an excellent job with your training,¡± she smiled, pecking my lips once more and pressing her body against mine more directly.


    ¡°Yes, that much is very true,¡± I agreed. ¡°I think you need a shower, Lucy,¡± I admitted then, brought to wincing from her body odor.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get there. There¡¯ll be a time for that after a bit of fun first,¡± she replied, pecking my lips yet again, but then backed away to again rest upon my lap. ¡°Everyone else?¡±


    ¡°Well, only a handful of the soldiers we pried from the Houses on Skardak¡¯s Reach proved viable recruits. I think we¡¯re walking away with twenty or so, returning perhaps a hundred to the Houses themselves,¡± I explained.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll hardly notice the difference,¡± she grumbled, rolling her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m mostly asking about Zha, Cal,¡± she insisted.


    ¡°Oh. Her interrogation has gone well. I think, by the end, both Gronheims had wet themselves and passed out in fear of her. A good a sign as any. The Regulator¡ªKanius is his name¡ªthat I had had watch her was very impressed. I think he likes her,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Does she like him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any idea what Zha likes, save for having something to work on,¡± I smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll keep Kanius around though. Maybe put him in Intel, or Comms. Could use more Arbites to establish contacts with agencies on unknown worlds,¡± I explained. ¡°But, right, Zha. As she understands it, the flects are coming in from Calixis¡ªmuch like everything else, it seems. They¡¯re moving large volumes into Amnes Minoris. They¡¯re being processed there, but the Gronheims don¡¯t know what they¡¯re being used for. A flect is a drug, a psychoactive agent, touched by the depravities of the Warp itself. The possibilities of what individuals with resources as themselves could do with such a material are worrying. Create a Warp Storm? Change the currents of interstellar travel? I don¡¯t know, and neither does Zha. But they¡¯re also collecting something from Pariahs. Something anti-Warp. Zha said Prareus called the Pariah-stuff Prima Materia,¡± I started.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°First Matter,¡± Lucene understood.


    ¡°Correct. I want to know what Heirene knows. I want to know what he¡¯d call a flect after it had been processed. I am worried, Lucy, not of the end they have foretold awaits me on Amnes Minoris. I am worried that there is something sinister the likes of which you and I have gone far too long failing to comprehend about this whole operation. They¡¯re doing something. It¡¯s something Prareus thinks can be used to kill me, but that wasn¡¯t the original intent. And what Ryke and Silverman were doing on Hestia Majoris was somehow related. Whatever they¡¯re up to, it is a work that has spanned decades¡ªif not more¡ªand several worlds across at least two Sectors¡ªours and Calixis. And it is that worry, about that unknown, that makes me feel I have grown soft.¡±


    ¡°Whatever they are up to, Cal, you and I will burn away in the Throne¡¯s wrath,¡± she assured me. ¡°You need not worry of that.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. Either way, I think my time lurking between the stars is at an end. I need to have my boots on the ground more. I need a more intimate understanding of what they¡¯re up to. I regret not being on Canicus,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Zha¡¯s report and your own interrogation of Prareus was insufficient?¡± she frowned, surprised and curious.


    ¡°No, but I would have wanted to have seen the Pariahs for myself,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°I think you would have found that quite an uncomfortable experience,¡± she chuckled.


    I nodded and allowed myself to join her laughter, noting the irony of my suggestion. Pariahs and Psykers such as myself do not mix. ¡°Yes, quite likely. But an insightful one. Comfort is rarely becoming of war.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing our victory today has paused the war tonight,¡± she smiled, and then leaned forward to embrace me once more. My evening melted away with her, and while not bearing witness to the end I had foreseen with Mirena many decades ago, I did see a vision that had been haunting me since my relationship with Lucene began: a simple wooden house on a great, green open field. I knew not what it meant, nor what planet it was on. But ever did the Warp put the image in my head when my mind was at its most emotionally exposed.


    ***


    The light hissing of water was the first thing I noticed in the following morning. The scent of vacuum-sealed flesh was nowhere to be found. Lucene was in the shower. Our quarters were not as spacious or luxurious as I had heard some Inquisitors chose to indulge, but they sufficed for the purposes of maintaining our privacy, which was more than can be said of the average abode on a voidship. The shower, too, was not very powerful and consisted primarily of recycled water, but it was also precisely as capable as we needed it to be.


    With my eyes still unopened and Lucene still in the shower, I reached out with my mind to feel around the Coldbreed, my personal voidship. It had been quite some time since I had gathered the whole of my surviving original retinue in one place; I wanted to know how they were doing and what they were up to. And even though it had been many years since I had felt the psychic-flicker of their presence, I still recognized the whole lot of them at once among a crowd of thousands of other bodies on my vessel. Silas was a few rooms away from us, ever wanting to be near to me to respond to any emergency. He was still bruised from head to toe from his interrogation at the hands of the Arbites, but he did not show signs of being slowed from that bruising; he was cleaning his equipment and sharpening his blades.


    Zha was further into the ship, up bright and early to discuss something with Massino Varnus. I could have listened in more closely to their conversation but chose not to; if they had something important for me, they would give it in due time. I did discern that they were discussing the topic of Heirene¡¯s augmetics, though. If I had one regret about turning Zha Trantos into an Inquisitor, it was that it had flattened her step; where once my savant had carried herself with a bit of an excited hop from step-to-step when she had something to work on, now the Inquisitor marched about like the rest of us.


    Luther and Xavier were getting breakfast and coffee together. It pleased me to see their friendship withstand the tests of time and distance. Trauma, like that sustained on Thantalus and Hestia Majoris, will do that, I suppose. Of the many varied units I possessed in my direct command, theirs operated with undoubtedly the best congruency, despite the fact that Psykers and Guardsmen were not necessarily the easiest pairing; less so, likewise, for the nulls under Xavier¡¯s command. But Luther and Xavier made their joint operations work, and work well at that. Presently, they were discussing the 20-odd new recruits under Luther¡¯s wing, and how Xavier would need a new Psyker or two to match. They planned to bring it up with me; we would see¡ªrecruiting Psykers was a far more perilous and involved task than Guardsmen.


    Castecael was in the corridors near to Luther and Xavier¡¯s mess hall, having already eaten her fill of breakfast. I sensed that she had eaten with them for a time but excused herself in needing to get somewhere. My shadow war against the Phaenonites had busied her in the process of immunizing the expansion of my operation to the perils of deep space and unknown worlds. My more recent open conflict with the enemy would busy her further, and she knew it. But it was worthy work in service to the Throne, which made her happy; bureaucracy remained the bane of her tolerance, and I provided her with as much autonomy as she needed to perform her duties, which she did admirably and capably as ever. I did not trouble her mind with the weight of my own and let her navigate my ship to where she needed to go.


    That, then, left her partner of far more years than Lucene and I had shared: Mirena Law. I found her in our training station, where she was sparring with, of all people, Iblis Kyle. To my knowledge, the two had not known each other previously, but they seemed to be getting along well enough to fight¡ªMirena only fought people she liked, despite having claimed the opposite in regards to Hans Okustin, my former Interrogator. Having said that, she never asked me for a fight, nor Lucene. I did not know why that was. Regardless, Mirena had served me well over the years, but as time had gone on, I have begun to sense a sort of longing from her. I have not pried into what for, though I have worried she has felt trapped in my service, faced with imprisonment or punishment of death should she behave as she did with me under a different banner in the wider Imperium. That was just my own fear, though; whatever she longed for, I would let her tell me as she willed it.


    ¡°You can¡¯t still be sleeping, can you?¡± Lucene asked me suddenly. I finally pried my eyes open, and viewed a toweled Lucene towering over me, her hair frayed in thin, wet clumps. Upon seeing me open my waking face, she laughed, ¡°Ah! And here I thought I might have finally bested you in bed.¡± She then crawled over me to sit at my side, raising her legs over and onto my abdomen.


    ¡°Not quite yet, my dear,¡± I smiled, caressing her thighs. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Good morning, Cal. Did you sleep well?¡±


    ¡°Mostly. Had the dream again; the cabin,¡± I told her.


    ¡°A sure sign that you¡¯re becoming an old man,¡± she replied, unable to repress her laughter despite having made the joke dozens of times already. ¡°I do wonder how retirement would suit you.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine it would serve me very well,¡± I admitted. ¡°And I always figured my retirement would manifest as that of a rogue trader, further providing Sigird the means to haunt me. But I don¡¯t imagine the Imperium would allow me to stop merely due to age.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably a good thing; I never want to stop with you,¡± she chuckled, patting my chest. ¡°Speaking of which, what is our agenda for today? Besides interrogating the latest Phaenonite captive?¡±


    ¡°I believe it starts with answering the door for our upcoming guest,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Oh, should I clothe, then?¡± Lucene asked, sitting upright and robbing me of the means to continue massaging her thighs.


    ¡°Up to you. It¡¯s only Castecael, and she has seen you in far less than a towel before,¡± I shrugged, but sat up as well. ¡°I, however, should probably find pants.¡±


    ¡°Hung them on our Eviscerator, dearest,¡± she replied, rising to her feet and leaving the room. I looked up and sure enough spotted the basics of my attire upon what was once my weapon; Lucene insisted on calling it ¡®our¡¯ weapon, though it was firmly hers to wield. Regardless, I stood to my feet and began dressing myself. I was just beginning to don a shirt when the buzzer of our door rang.


    ¡°Enter,¡± I called to who I already knew to be Castecael, despite not then having laid eyes on her. ¡°Good morning, Castecael,¡± I nodded to her while sitting on the edge of my bed and slinging the shirt overhead.


    ¡°Good morning, Cal. I haven¡¯t interrupted you two, have I?¡± she asked. I smiled and shook my head. ¡°Great. Could I possibly ask a favor of you?¡±


    ¡°You can certainly ask,¡± I nodded, rising to my feet and pulling my jacket off the back of a nearby hanger. Castecael hesitated in her response, trying to find the right words, and only managed her request by the time I had finished buttoning my coat up. I certainly could have scanned her mind for what was troubling her, but I figured life would get pretty lonely if I never gave my comrades room to speak.


    ¡°Could I ask you to speak with Mirena, sir? She¡¯s¡­well, you should hear her position from her. But I think she¡¯s obsessed with physically bettering herself so as to serve on the field with you more often. I worry about her, physically and mentally, Cal,¡± Castecael explained. ¡°I worry she thinks she isn¡¯t good enough to serve you, and is pushing herself further than she should.¡±


    ¡°If she wasn¡¯t good enough to serve me, she wouldn¡¯t be serving me,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Yes, I told her as much myself,¡± Castecael grinned, though the grin was short lived.


    ¡°I¡¯ll speak with her, yes. Anything else I can help with? How are the new recruits?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re already inoculated for traveling through the void with us. And no, that¡¯s all, thank you, Cal,¡± Castecael replied, smiling warmly.

 Chapter 45 - Mortality

    I could hear the fight between Iblis Kyle and Mirena Law before I saw it; the deep huffs of breath, the squeak of footwork on a practice mat, the clap of padded practice equipment, the short and regimented battle cries thrown out alongside punches and kicks to raise adrenaline¡ªI had heard it all before as a Commissar with the Guard. I had not heard it recently, though, as my role as Inquisitor had elevated me a bit above those I oversaw. I had, however, lived a more vibrant and live-fire version of practice with Lucene¡ªthere were no pieces of ¡®practice equipment¡¯ in play there.


    Regardless, when I eventually came upon the scene, I found Iblis atop Mirena with a knee jammed into the top of the latter¡¯s back whilst she hoisted one of Mirena¡¯s arms up. Mirena used her remaining arm to clap against the practice mat in surrender before the pair shot to their feet for another bout. In doing so, Mirena spotted me and lowered her guard a hair. Sensing this, Iblis followed Mirena¡¯s gaze to face me as well. ¡°Not an easy thing, downing my pilot, Carmichael,¡± I greeted them, using Iblis¡¯s cover name.


    ¡°She¡¯s well trained, yes,¡± Iblis agreed, glancing over to Mirena to smile at her. Mirena¡¯s eyes did not leave mine. ¡°I assume you¡¯re here for one of us?¡±


    ¡°Her, if you wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± I answered with a nod.


    Iblis nodded in return and stepped off the mat, walking in my direction but with the intent of leaving the room. ¡°If you think you want her. And good morning, Callant,¡± she smiled to me.


    ¡°Good morning, Bliss,¡± I smiled, holding out a fist for her to bump as she neared. She did so with her own, happy to exchange the small greeting we had devised between us, but otherwise left without a further word. I stepped up to the mat to join Mirena.


    ¡°Did Castecael send you?¡± she asked, flat and plain. We were on good terms with each other, and I knew that on most days she would have been happy to see me, but she understood better than most that business was business.


    Even so, I toyed with her a bit to try to earn a grin from her. ¡°Please, Mirena, a medicae could never send an Inquisitor around anywhere,¡± I scoffed. In reply, she planted her hands atop her hips and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yes, Castecael sent me,¡± I confessed. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t tell you?¡± Mirena replied, eyes widening in surprise.


    ¡°She told me some. She also told me I should hear it from you,¡± I offered.


    ¡°How considerate,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°So, again, what¡¯s going on?¡±


    Mirena shrugged and sighed, then hooked one of her arms under the other to stretch them out following her bout with Iblis. ¡°It¡¯s¡­there¡¯s so much to say,¡± she sighed again, then swapped her arms around to stretch the other. ¡°I¡¯m¡ªI don¡¯t feel useful to you, Cal,¡± she offered with another shrug.


    ¡°My head logistics officer doesn¡¯t feel useful?¡± I asked with a scoffing laugh. ¡°Well, you are. There, better?¡± I smiled, stepping up to her. Then, finally, I managed to get a grin from her as well, albeit brief. ¡°You haven¡¯t been my pilot in a while,¡± I inferred, understanding her desires. She nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s more than that, though, but yes. How big is your operation, now, Cal?¡± she asked, putting the hands of her newly-stretched arms back onto her hips.


    ¡°Vicinity of three hundred operatives,¡± I answered. Even I did not know specifically; I barely knew of those far removed from answering to me, but I had some idea of the extent of things. ¡°Significantly more if you count the staff on our voidships.¡±


    ¡°For the sake of argument, let¡¯s keep it down at three hundred,¡± Mirena nodded. ¡°How many of those are deployable to ground work?¡±


    ¡°North of two hundred,¡± I replied¡ªbetween Comms units, Intel teams, Tactical teams, Medic crews, Psychic units, Stealth operatives, and Strike teams, I had a lot of Agents on the ground. The Command and Logistics substructures did not really touch down on the ground much, though, which made me understand her plight. ¡°You¡¯re jealous of them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a word for it,¡± she shrugged, then moved each of her hands to each of my shoulders. I did not reciprocate the embrace. ¡°Cal, I¡¯m not one for managing people. I¡¯m a pilot¡ªa soldier. I don¡¯t particularly want more than that. I¡­,¡± she began, then bit her lower lip. ¡°I envy Silas. Bliss. Luther. I want to do what they do. But I¡¯m not like them,¡± she explained.


    ¡°What are they like?¡± I frowned.


    ¡°They¡¯re incredible,¡± Mirena smiled. ¡°They can fight, and they can fight well. I want to fight. For you. Like they do. It¡¯s been decades, Cal, and I haven¡¯t pulled the trigger of a lasgun or airship alike. I get that there¡¯s a bit of subterfuge in your current methods, but if you don¡¯t have room for air support in your operations, let me be on the ground like they are.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need boxers, Mirena, I need killers,¡± I replied, gesturing to the practice mat at ¡®boxers.¡¯ ¡°I know you¡¯re trained to use small arms and personnel munitions, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not a super-soldier like Silas Hager. Yeah, I know. Hence the frustration,¡± she sighed, shaking her head, and then broke away from me to walk toward the other side of the practice mat.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need a second Silas Hager, I need you, Mirena,¡± I insisted.


    ¡°And what do you need me to accomplish that you couldn¡¯t do without me, hm?¡± she asked, turning back to me and returning her hands to her hips. ¡°I¡¯m not a savant-like prodigy like Zha is; there¡¯s plenty of people you could recruit to do my job as a logistics officer. You¡¯re not using me as a pilot. And you¡¯ve barely needed me as a friend since¡ª¡± she started, but bit her tongue to stop herself.


    ¡°Since Lucene returned,¡± I understood. She sighed and nodded.


    I felt like responding, but at the same time, I felt like she had something more to say. However, after a pause, when she did continue, she deflected the conversation away. ¡°Am I wasting your time, Cal? Don¡¯t you have some traitor to interrogate or something?¡±


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    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that shit, Mirena,¡± I grumbled, furrowing my brow and crossing my own arms. ¡°First of all, I¡¯ll take any excuse to let him stew for a few more hours. Second, maintaining the cohesion of my staff is never a waste of time. And finally, I have always needed you as a friend. You¡¯re the one damned Agent of mine unfazed by Imperial dogma yet untainted by heresy; you cannot know how valuable your clarity is to me.¡± At that, she opened her mouth to speak, but this time I was not done, and held up a finger to tell her to wait while stepping nearer to her. ¡°And if offering me grounded insight isn¡¯t fulfilling enough for you, Mirena, just tell me what else you want. You want that fast little star-rocket we joked about in Abseradon? To be my chauffer, or perhaps my bodyguard?¡ªI can get you any training or resources you desire. Whatever it is you want, all I need from you is you.¡±


    We were already at arm¡¯s reach from one another, but even so, Mirena took a step closer to me after another pause, a gentle smile on her face. I, however, frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t hug me,¡± I sighed, which widened her grin as she embraced me. Begrudgingly, I returned the embrace, and tipped my head forward to meet hers as she did, locking my gaze with the warm silver eyes she possessed among a face of bronze.


    ¡°If only it were so simple, Cal,¡± she hushed, not quite in a whisper but just loud enough that her voice was quiet even with our proximity. Then, a bit louder, elaborated, ¡°The stuff doesn¡¯t matter¡ªthe ships, the guns, what I have or what I do. I don¡¯t want to change; I want to be me, with you. I¡¯m not Silas Hager, and I don¡¯t want to be.¡±


    In that moment, in her eyes, the galaxy was not on fire. I was not an Inquisitor, nor a Commissar, nor a soldier. I was simply me, and in understanding that, I came to realize she did not see herself in my eyes in return. My galaxy was on fire, and she was a means to keep the flames at bay, if only in part. I closed my eyes for a moment, as much to hide the inferno from her as to focus my own thoughts. Still hiding from her, I admitted, ¡°Mirena, you are nearly impossible to resist.¡±


    ¡°Nearly?¡± she chuckled. ¡°But thank you, Cal.¡±


    I returned my gaze to face her once more. ¡°Inaction has wounded us, I think. You and I are of a kind; we are not the Silas Hagers or Lucene Flints of the galaxy. But what we are, we are, and that is all I need from you, Mirena, now and forever. I plan to make planetfall more often in operations near. I will need transport for them. And I will, as ever, need clarity and consult. And a hand, likely, too. Will I have yours?¡±


    ¡°Until the bleakest night sees dawn again, and then some,¡± Mirena assured me, nodding, rubbing her forehead against mine in the process. ¡°What does Lucene think of us?¡±


    ¡°She understands that some bonds cannot be broken, nor forgotten. Castecael?¡±


    ¡°She understands, in fewer words,¡± Mirena grinned. ¡°Thanks, Cal, for your time. At first I thought I needed to blow off some steam, but no, I needed this. Have you had breakfast?¡±


    ¡°I have not.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. Want to grab a bite?¡±


    ***


    Heirene was about as ravaged from his surgery as I expected. He was little more than a mangled corpse when I entered his holding cell, barely alive, yet somehow conscious. A casual observer may have described him as pitiably harmless, but I knew better, and so respected the ever-present danger of his existence by choosing not to enter his cell unarmed, nor alone. I once again donned my full ceramite power suit, this time with my helmet, and was accompanied by Lucene at my back, she armed with her Eviscerator at the ready, if not actively priming it.


    I loomed over the dilapidated body before us, albeit keeping my distance as best I could within the confines of his cell. After a moment of non-responsiveness, I muttered, ¡°You are conscious.¡± As if on cue, Heirene¡¯s eyes flittered open¡ªtwo purple slits that lacked any of the former charisma he once possessed on Skardak¡¯s Reach. ¡°You are also well enough to speak.¡±


    ¡°And such choice words I have for you, Blackgar,¡± he growled, only his face showing any signs of movement. It may not have been an intentional growl; I suspected the tone was all his body could muster at the time. ¡°They matter not. Ask your questions and I will answer, for withholding from you matters not.¡±


    ¡°Because my life is forfeit anyway?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing with the flects?¡± I asked.


    Heirene evidenced bodily movement in a shrug, though it did seem to pain him. ¡°Extracting Chaos.¡±


    ¡°To what end?¡±


    ¡°It is¡­an alkahest,¡± Heirene answered.


    I glanced to Lucene for insight on the term. ¡°A solvent, universal. Theorized, not demonstrated. The Faith does believe in such a thing, though I doubt it could originate from the realm of the Archenemy.¡±


    ¡°And why not?¡± Heirene grinned.


    ¡°You will not be questioning her faith on my time,¡± I declared. ¡°Or, at all. This alkahest, if it is a solvent, what are you dissolving in it?¡±


    ¡°The weakness of flesh.¡±


    ¡°The Mechanicum will be pleased,¡± I grunted. Heirene managed a snorting laugh. ¡°And the Prima Materia Prareus was extracting on Canicus, how does that come into play?¡±


    ¡°It is a tunneling agent,¡± Heirene explained. ¡°The physics you will not understand, nor will you want to hear; your kind is deafened with zealotry.¡±


    ¡°What, exactly, are you doing with these materials on Amnes Minoris?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Really, Blackgar, what do you think? Killing you, upending a rotting empire, giving hope to mankind¡ªI feel like you must have heard all of that before,¡± Heirene replied, flustered.


    ¡°And yet I still must ask as your kind is hard of hearing all the same. Specifics, Heirene, specifics. This alkahest and Prima Materia, what are they for, in that twisted, broken skull of yours?¡± I pushed, putting hands atop my blades in a vain attempt at implying further torment.


    ¡°Do you intend to kill me, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°Eventually.¡±


    ¡°But not at first.¡±


    ¡°You will be interrogated by my peers and supervisors, for what little you are worth, when this is all done and the reports are written,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Then you will be killed, even if not by my hand¡ªmuch as I may wish it.¡±


    ¡°That is what we are doing, Blackgar. That is what we are solving on Amnes Minoris,¡± he tried to explain. I cocked my head to the side, not understanding. ¡°Eternity. We will give mankind an Eternity among the stars.¡±


    ¡°It might already have it, if not for the likes of you,¡± I replied. ¡°And what can I expect to find on Aerialon, and how does it help you solve Eternity?¡± At that, Heirene¡¯s eyes widened. He did not appear to expect that I would already have the name of such a destination to work with. He mouthed the word How, then winced, ashamed of himself for displaying such shock to me. ¡°I have my sources,¡± I answered nevertheless. ¡°Buckle up, Heirene, you¡¯re coming with us. We¡¯ll talk more on the journey. Do try to keep up this cooperative attitude; it will make things quicker for you, in the end.¡±


    I gestured to Lucene my intent to leave, and we began to abandon our corpse-like foe, but his call stopped me in my tracks. ¡°You did not ask, but we have our own Assassinorum, Blackgar. Why don¡¯t you go to Amnes Minoris and see for yourself, o¡¯ mighty Inquisitor?¡±


    The Officio Assassinorum. I had had the misfortune of seeing firsthand what its Agents could do. I have the present honor of recognizing that two of my Agents had bested two of theirs, if only just. But I also knew, to some extent, of what Heirene then spoke of. We had caught its image on camera, and the psychic projection of itself had managed to kill one of my most powerful Psykers. It was not the sort the Assassinorum of the Imperium produced, but rather of the twisted designs of the Archenemy. ¡°I have seen it. I am unafraid of it,¡± I replied to the Phaenonite, and then left him to his suffering alone.


    I had lied to Heirene, for I had yet to deduce a response to the monster I knew to be lurking on Amnes Minoris. I think Heirene sensed my lie, as he forced himself to laugh through his own pain in response to me.

 Chapter 46 - Omen

    ¡°Cardinal rise!¡± Silas shouted as he ducked behind the cover of soot-covered stone, red lasfire racing over his head and illuminating the darkness in the process. If not for the lasfire, nothing would have been visible to the naked eye, but as it was, the scene was marred by the dim glow of combat. Silas, of course, could see perfectly, ever wearing his skull-adorned Omnishield helm. All of my Agents could see perfectly with their equipment, while I could see just fine with my mind.


    ¡°On it,¡± Lucene replied over vox, and barely revealed herself from behind the blackened column she was taking cover behind. She was aiming for the risen platform before she even saw it, given the instruction from Silas. Her eyes, through her Sabbat helm, only just focused on the struts keeping the platform up by the time she pulled the trigger, after which her Boltrifle roared once. A single explosion followed as she ducked back behind her column, and a number of panicked screams and the clattering of collapsed structures followed in turn. Silas responded to the cacophony by peeking over his cover and opening fire more actively, cutting down our foes amidst the chaos.


    +Left flank, upper balcony, twelve seconds. Bliss. Right flank, ground floor, access hatch, fourteen seconds. Silas and Lucene,+ I commanded, standing behind my own column, eyes closed and focusing through the myriad sounds of warfare to hone in on the psychic presence of oncoming assailants. My own Boltpistol was at the ready, though I had only used it to pick off individual stragglers that slipped through the barrage Lucene and Silas provided, or that eluded Bliss¡¯s snare. It was the four of us against a small army. You did not need to be a Commissar to know who was winning.


    Having once been a Commissar did tell me by how much, though, and I expected things would wrap up after this final flank from our foes. But still, we had not found him¡­


    Twelve seconds¡¯ pause. Things quieted for a moment. One could even hear the low drumming of vehicles overhead, driving along an intercity expressway. Many exceeded planetary velocity limits, but those were rarely enforced. We were a good distance below such criminal activity, with a great deal of ground and plascrete between us, not that I cared to be policing something so trivial either. Our current location was that of an underground temple, which we had accessed from an aboveground one. Both were to the same deity¡ªVeralith¡ªwhom I had never heard of before. That was not uncommon; planets often had their own pagan gods, and so long as their mythology did not conflict with the Master of Mankind, and His Nine Reverential Children, any world was free to pay respects to any lesser deities they believed existed. Faith to the Imperial Creed was paramount, but it was not absolute; even Lucene showed no discomfort in discussions involving this ¡®Veralith¡¯ entity.


    In any case, we had arrived here hot on the heels of another Phaenonite, us having been working with a young priestess of the Veralithean faith who suspected something amiss under her temple. And wouldn¡¯t you know it¡ª


    With a bang, a group of shadowy foes emerged through a busted-down door on the upper balconies of the room, right on time. As immediately as they had entered, the first few of the group found themselves kicked off their balcony, falling several flights before landing with skeleton-crunching impacts on our floor. Bliss then wrestled with those that followed in close-quarters, bringing knives to a gunfight and emerging relatively unscathed. Two such knives, smaller than her palms, were drawn from her waist and thrown into the oncoming crowd, sinking into the hearts of foes unknown.


    Moments after the upper balconies were flooded with enemies, a similar group burst through an access hatch behind our initial approach. As with Bliss¡¯s response, Lucene and Silas opened fire upon them at once, reducing their initial forces to showers of blackened reds. I, meanwhile, casually stalked further into the room, Boltpistol held to my side, but ready to be raised at a moment¡¯s notice. I was there for two reasons, and neither were for fighting¡ªI was there to find a traitor, and to dismantle whatever it was they had been working on on Aerialon. The shooting and bloodshed paved the way for that journey, but it was not the destination.


    I reached out with my mind, past the multitude of foes that sought to overwhelm my unit. I flooded the underground temple with my thoughts, over and through and around a dozen rooms and two dozen corridors, some intended to be secret but unable to be hidden from me. I was, within the temple, omnipresent, and yet I found the opposite of anything at all¡ªnothing. There was an emptiness in the darkened room, something my mind could not touch. It was larger than the form of a man, but only just. And it did not fight against my mind, as the presence of a Pariah would have; rather, this emptiness was only that, an untouchable, unknowable void suspended in the abyssal night of our room.


    I suspected this was the object of whatever the Phaenonite may have been up to, but for all my mental searching, I could not find the Phaenonite themselves. To that, I sighed, and retracted the feelers of my mind, pulling back into my own being. In the process, I felt the need to act to assist my allies. Silas had been truly flanked, Bliss¡¯s Laspistol had overheated, and Lucene¡¯s Boltrifle needed a reload. I pivoted on my feet, training my Boltpistol upon Silas¡¯s flanker, and fired, my eyes still closed. I aimed for the light of their mind. It darkened. In the same thought, I froze a man in place directly ahead of Lucene, just as his aim began to form upon her to capitalize on her reload. Meanwhile, Bliss found a handful of her opposition thrust over the parapets of the balcony on which she fought, pulled into the air by an unseen force.


    Lucene finished her reload and removed the head from the torso of her frozen foe just as a few bodies hit the ground far behind her, screaming as they fell. Then, at last, true quietude, until Silas spoke up. ¡°Thanks, sir.¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me sir, Silas,¡± I grumbled, and then turned to face the void and opened my eyes. Still too dark to see anything. ¡°Come here, all of you. There is something here my mind cannot perceive.¡±


    While Lucene and Silas approached, Bliss fastened a grappling hook to the parapets and gracefully slid down to our floor with a small flourish, almost as an acrobat. She made to join up with us shortly after landing. ¡°Monitron?¡± Silas suggested.


    ¡°Please,¡± I nodded. Silas held his Monitron-fastened arm out to me while keeping his eyes on the suspended figure before us, his gaze being displayed on the pict-screen of his arm. The figure was large indeed, like an oversized humanoid skeleton, but made of metal. The surface of the metal seemed almost as though to be moving, but whatever it was before us, it was very definitely dead, if ever it had lived at all. ¡°Xenos,¡± I muttered. ¡°I have seen records of its breed. Varnus and the Mechanicum consider them an affront to their Omnissiah. Thank you, Silas, that will do.¡±


    ¡°Should we destroy it?¡± Lucene asked, Boltrifle already being raised to the thing¡¯s head.


    I paused for a moment. Destroying it and removing traces of its existence would have been the right thing to do. But I knew the damnable things to be quite durable. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your energy. Veralith will suffer a skeleton in its closet. We will tell the priestess to see to the sealing of this lower temple; I think she will be inclined to agree without needing details. However, while my mind cannot penetrate its presence, perhaps I can find something of its past.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡± Silas asked, but I ignored his querying concern and stepped up to the foot of the beast. I reached out with my left arm, then thought better of putting an augmetic into contact with the ¡®living metal¡¯ of a Xenos runt. Flesh, then¡ªI raised my other arm to its raised feet and closed my eyes.


    ***


    I see through the lidless, eyeless sockets of a cold dead thing. Soulless. It had been soulless even in life, and colder even then. My vision is granted not by remaining mental energies of the creature, for no such things ever existed; instead, I see through the dust that had settled upon the Xenos over the aeons. I am the dust of worlds burnt to cinders, engulfed in plumes of green flame. I am the dust of fallen civilizations. I am the dust of star stuff, carried in the void between conquests. I am the dust on an Aeldari Diresword, blown through the already-empty chest cavity of this now-dead thing.


    The dead thing settles in this dust. It is left behind and forgotten. I see through the dust of aeons. A billion suns rise and fall over the course of its inert history. Sediment buries the forgotten dead. But then, an eternity later, that sediment is removed, and the dust sees sky again. Excavators. Humans. Across the exchange of dozens of hands, much of my view of the Xenos skeleton is taken away, the dust being removed as studies and quarantines begin. They culminate in blood as his¡ªno, her¡ªforces close in to acquire the Xenos. I see her for the first time, slender, gaudy; but despite her thin and ostentatious appearance, she wields full command of her troops with ruthless efficiency, as I do mine.


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    When they acquire the Xenos, they move it from one location to another. I see them all, save for one, but ironically it is only that one which I know the name of¡ªAmnes Minoris. They brought it there, and any glimpse of the world is hidden from my view even from the psychic resonance of dust. I wish I could say I was surprised. But here, on Aerialon, is the final resting place of the Xenos, where they committed to their final studies. They dissected the remains of the creature, particularly interested in its sundered chest cavity and its yet-intact skull. But why? To what end? I do not discern that, for those that work on the Xenos do not know, and she keeps her distance and stays silent.


    He is here. It is a thought one day shared among the workers. They overheard a vox communication sent to their boss while she looked on at the Xenos. She gestures for one of her guard, and begins to speak to him. I hear her voice, light but shrill, in the minds of her workers. ¡°Let him come,¡± she tells her guard. ¡°When he nears, I will depart for the Amnes system. Until then, I¡¯ll remain here to oversee the unit¡¯s stability.¡±


    ¡°And them?¡± the guard asks, referring to the workers.


    ¡°Discharge them when I leave. I¡¯m sure Veralith won¡¯t mind.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Not you too, Bliss,¡± I grumbled, hand shaking as I removed it from the foot of the Xenos. Silas grunted a chuckle. ¡°We need to leave. Our target is not here.¡±


    ¡°You saw him?¡± Lucene asked, already clearing the way for me to lead the group out of the underground temple, which seemed counterproductive to have the sightless Inquisitor take point. Regardless, I took it, finding my way out with my mind, as I had found my way in.


    ¡°Her. Yes. She intends to leave this world, if she has not already. What is the nearest spaceport?¡±


    ¡°IS-41, sir,¡± Bliss reported at once, my trio following behind me. ¡°Managed by Launch Control Overseer Richter Feng.¡± I nodded in understanding, though for a moment thought it an odd bit of trivia for her to know. I soon realized, though, that knowing and investigating her escape routes probably came natural to my Stealth operative.


    ¡°We will need to have them suspend all pending launches while we investigate,¡± I began.


    ¡°That will tip her off, though, won¡¯t it?¡± Silas suggested, as ever evidencing his forward-thinking.


    ¡°Yes, it will. But it will buy us time nevertheless. That¡¯s our most crucial resource for now,¡± I explained.


    Our conversation carried us for a time, but by our exit from the catacombs beneath the surface-level temple, we had arrived at knowing and agreeable silence. That was good, as I had intended to bid farewell to the Veralithean priestess and urge her to have the underground passageways sealed, but she, instead, had her own things to say. ¡°Inquisitor! Inquisitor!¡± she called the moment my ceramite-covered head poked out from shadows of a long-forgotten passageway.


    ¡°I am quite alright, priestess, and we have routed those that we suspected were defiling your temple. They will trouble you no more. But you should¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Inquisitor, it is not that, but thank you,¡± she shook her head, flustered and clearly upset by something else. She seemed drained of focus, but full of energy. ¡°No, my Patron insists I speak with you. She reached out directly.¡±


    That raised some alarms at once, as Pagan worship was one thing, but deific intervention was another, and much more closely watched by the Inquisition. Still, for the time being, I played along, though I could already sense Lucene¡¯s sudden change in mood. ¡°Did she, now? And what did she have to say?¡±


    ¡°She insists that you look skyward soon as you can, and that you make haste. She says you are pressed for time,¡± the priestess replied.


    ¡°More than she knows,¡± I grumbled. Divine intervention or faithfulness mixed with an empathic reading of my mood? Hard to say, but I was not inclined to level a world for a palm reader. ¡°Thank you, priestess. We will take our leave shortly. But please, do see to the sealing of that passage, and ensure no one explores its corridors. It is dangerous down there, and soiled by its former tenants.¡±


    ¡°I shall, Inquisitor. Bless you for your service,¡± she replied, bowing to me, which seemed an accomplishment for the out-of-breath woman. I waved my trio on, and the four of us departed from the temple. As soon as we were beyond its heavy, plascrete walls and onto familiar paved plascrete streets, our vox chatter exploded in incoherent scrambling.


    ¡°Augh, what the Throne?¡± Silas winced, his vox being more intimately ingrained from his headset than our own, and even I managed a wince as well.


    In doing so, I looked skyward, as the priestess had asked me to, and at first did not know what I was looking at. Well, I knew it to be my vessel, the Coldbreed, but I also knew something was off about it. What, exactly, caught my eye was beyond me in the moment, and gave me pause. An explosion from its starboard decks clued me in that something was more amiss, and indeed, the focus of my attention revealed my vessel to be closer to Aerialon than it should have been, and at an awkward tilt.


    ¡°Silas, boost our vox, now!¡± I shouted to him, but he was already on it. We did not then have the range to vox to the ship from the surface, but we did have the range to get in contact with our transport. ¡°Mirena,¡± I voxxed to her. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong. Eyes on Coldbreed?¡±


    ¡°Just what I see in the sky, and it doesn¡¯t look great. Have tried to get word to them but have had no response,¡± Mirena reported back.


    ¡°Start heading our way, full burn,¡± I ordered, just in time for Silas to give me a thumb¡¯s up. He had configured his equipment to provide us with greater amplification while near to him. ¡°Command-1 to Coldbreed bridge, come in, Helmsman, what¡¯s your status?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all fun and games up here, loyalist boy,¡± Prareus, the Phaenonite from Canicus, replied over my Helmsman¡¯s vox. ¡°Where¡¯d you go, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°Kill all vox communication,¡± I ordered to my immediate retinue and to Mirena. I had to think. I just needed a moment, but I could not afford myself that time in a world upside down. My mind raced past a million what-if¡¯s a second, unable to reason through any logical course of action. Perhaps seeing or sensing my discomfort and my being overwhelmed, Lucene put a hand on my right shoulder, and that offered the clarity to solve all my problems. ¡°Lucene, Silas, you two are going skyward with Mirena. Kill any traitor on sight with maximum prejudice, I don¡¯t care about their intel. Bliss, you¡¯re with me. The Phaenonites want me up there so their ally down here can get away; we won¡¯t give them that courtesy. Take this,¡± I began, and reached into the cloak over my power armor.


    ¡°What the hell am I supposed to do with this?¡± Bliss objected, having been given my Inquisitorial Rosette.


    ¡°Open a line of credit in my name. As much as you can get with as much persuasion as you can manage. Vox me the info when you have it, then go underground. Keep that, and yourself, safe. I¡¯m going under, too; you two will need to load my armor onto the Bird,¡± I told Silas and Lucene, disengaging my power suit¡¯s protections and stepping out from its shell while detaching the MIU controlling the suit from the base of my head. I then reached for the vox on my clothes, having previously relied on that of my power suit. ¡°Silas, while I have you, patch me into IS-41¡¯s operational vox pattern.¡±


    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± he nodded, and began re-tuning his equipment. How I missed my previous Interrogator, Hans Okustin; he had been gifted with great skills for vox manipulation. Thankfully, Silas was capable enough, and managed to establish a line of communication with IS-41 relatively quickly.


    I spoke at once, time of the essence. ¡°Launch Control Overseer Richter Feng, please respond,¡± I commanded, speaking on their lines without prior notice.


    ¡°Feng speaking, who is this?¡± growled a faceless, aged voice. Someone who had likely seen too much voidshit in their life to be much bothered by anything. I had to bet that would not have included an Inquisitor.


    ¡°I am Inquisitor Callant Blackgar, Ordo Hereticus. I have reason to believe a suspect of mine is going to attempt to escape from this world via a launch at IS-41. Suspend all pending launches until I arrive, Feng, and put in a call for the local Arbites to keep the area secure. Do not let anyone leave until they have been cleared by the Arbites or myself. Do you understand, Feng?¡±


    ¡°I¡­uhh, I do, I-Inquisitor. But I can¡¯t just suspend launch operations on a whim without¡ª¡± he started, but I interrupted him at once with my Rosette¡¯s identification code, which I had already committed to memory long ago. I will not pen it to this report. ¡°I-it says here that Callant Blackgar is deceased, sir.¡±


    ¡°There had been a point for that at one time, though it has proven problematic as of late. Do as I say, Feng; I¡¯ll be there soon as I can.¡± I then cut the vox and turned to my friends. First to Silas and Lucene. ¡°Maximum prejudice,¡± I repeated to them.


    ¡°With pleasure, Cal,¡± Lucene nodded, as did Silas.


    I turned to Bliss. ¡°Do what you must to get me that credit line. You¡¯ll have four hours. Rob a bank if you need to.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have your funds, sir, for whatever you need,¡± Bliss assured me.


    ¡°Thank you, all of you. Worry not for me, but for those unlucky enough to have made an enemy of the Inquisition. The Emperor protects,¡± I said, bidding them farewell. They repeated the prayer likewise, Bliss heading off on her own path while Silas and Lucene awaited the landing of the Thunderhawk whose engines rumbled in the distance.


    ***


    ¡°My brothers three, it is with enthusiasm that I can confirm that contact has been made with both targets. Under the guise of na?ve innocence, I have set Cronos and the Scarlet Blade upon their respective, irreversible paths. Together, as per the Plan, they will cleanse this Sector of Ouranos for us, and make way for our return from the Eye. Our great work continues ever onward, or my name is not Veralith, your fated sister.¡±

 Chapter 47 - Underground

    Bliss Carmichael was certainly no stranger to being on the receiving end of slack jawed ogling. As long as it remained only that, she often managed some sly amusement from those that her mere presence had entranced. However, to her recollection, she had not ever so enraptured a child before; then, standing in line at a bank headquarters on Aerialon, she found the young boy in the line adjacent to hers not merely amusing, but also quite funny. If nothing else, his unrestrained reaction to her form was something to grin about and keep her spirits up while she was on her own. Better than focusing on the mutinous bloodshed her allies faced aboard the Coldbreed, which, by her orders, she could do nothing about.


    Every now and then, Bliss¡¯s eyes fluttered from surveillance sensor to surveillance sensor in the bank lobby. Logically, she knew the instinctual glance to be moot¡ªshe was not planning on robbing the bank and had already been recorded on too many picter feeds to leave without a trace. But her natural compulsion to do things as stealthily as possible ever compelled her to be keenly aware of her surroundings.


    ¡°Next!¡± called the teller before Bliss. Bliss stepped up, briefly scanning the teller over¡ªa younger woman than herself, with a perky but fake grin. The teller may have wanted to be there less than Bliss, but a job was a job. ¡°How may I help you today?¡±


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯d like to open an account and a line of credit with your bank,¡± Bliss replied, hands folded behind her back. Her attire had already changed into that of civilian clothing, her bodyglove, and her weapons with it, stashed away in a thin alcove several blocks away.


    ¡°Sure! I¡¯ll have to fetch the manager to handle that for you. Can you wait here a moment, and may I have your name?¡± the teller asked.


    ¡°Bliss Carmichael, and yes, I can wait,¡± Bliss nodded, putting on a fake smile of her own. Yes, Bliss thought, I can wait while a voidship plummets toward the planet. The wait was short, by the standards of Imperial bureaucracy, which meant it was still long by any standards of decency. Minutes passed. Bliss again amused herself with the knowledge of the young boy¡¯s gaze from earlier, finding that the child had, behind his mother, stepped nearer to the teller they had been in line for. While no longer slackjawed, and while not staring, the child was still swaying about and refusing to sit still behind his mother, ever moving in such a fashion as to unsubtly glimpse another corner of Bliss¡¯s form. Still, Bliss did not mind¡ªBetter to let the boy get a glimpse of what¡¯s out there, under the Throne, she thought to herself.


    ¡°Ms. Carmichael?¡± the call came after about fifteen minutes. She turned to her right and nodded to the man leading ahead of the teller, the latter of whom returned to her post and gestured Bliss along. ¡°Hello, Uzher Yutzov, the manager for this branch of Skyview Bank. I understand you would like to open a line of credit with us. Please come right this way so we can hash out some of the details therein,¡± the man invited her, extending a hand out toward her, though there was some distance between them still. She approached him and took it, and to his credit, she thought, he spent only a few moments looking at her chest. Better than most.


    Yutzov led Bliss across the main floor of the bank to a smaller ¡®room¡¯ with walls that raised high enough to obscure those behind them, but did not reach to the ceiling. Yes, Bliss noted, the surveillance sensors could still see her. That may complicate her intended approach to the situation. ¡°So,¡± Yutzov began, closing the door to the sequestered room behind him. ¡°Ms. Carmichael, do you have some idea of the nature of the account you would like to open with Skyview, and what sort of holding capital are you committing for your initial investment?¡±


    ¡°I do not know your account types, and I¡¯ll be committing to this,¡± she replied, reaching under her shirt and drawing forth the Rosette I had given her. Yutzov¡¯s face paled at once. She tried to wield it in a way it would not have been visible from the sensorium, but she was unsure of her potential success in that regard. ¡°However, you may not hold it. Do you know what this is?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI do¡ªI¡ªoh Merciful Emperor, you¡¯re here for the laundering, aren¡¯t you?¡± Yutzov cried. Bliss raised an eyebrow in mild curiosity, but had more pressing issues at mind. ¡°I¡¯ll confess at once, and give you what you need to know, but please, I have a family, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cease your blubbering, Mr. Yutzov, and compose yourself. I need, rather, the Inquisition has need of an emergency line of credit with your bank, as I said. Provide us with this, and we will take that into consideration when it comes to your institution¡¯s laundering,¡± Bliss leveraged, slipping the Rosette back under her shirt before crossing her arms behind her back again, puffing her chest out as much to intimidate as to, as usual, entice. As usual, it worked, and Yutzov nodded eagerly while loosing a sigh of relief. ¡°I do not know the sort of credit lines Skyview offers, nor do I care to know. The Inquisition needs immediate funds for an emergency operation on this planet. Assist us, and not only will we pay our dues¡ªas much as we see fit, given the crimes of your laundering¡ªbut Skyview will also find itself in Inquisitorial appreciation in the future. Now, can this process be expedited? Time is of the essence.¡±


    ¡°It¡ªoh, Throne, thank you¡ªit can, but it may still take some time. An hour, maybe two, for the proper checks and authorizations,¡± Yutzov admitted.


    ¡°That will suffice, if only barely. Hop to it, Mr. Yutzov, and if any superiors get in your way, refer them to me and carry on without their consent. They will come to understand or be replaced,¡± Bliss replied. Yutzov opened his mouth to speak, possibly to rejoice, but wisely thought better of it and nodded to Bliss before departing from the room. Bliss listened to his footsteps to await his full departure, then reached for her vox. ¡°One to two hours, I¡¯ll have the line for you.¡±


    ¡°Cutting it close, Bliss,¡± I voxxed back.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have it in your timeframe, sir, even if heads need roll,¡± Bliss assured me, finally taking a seat at an ornamental, stone desk that, indeed, featured pictures of Yutzov and his family. Bliss¡¯s eyes fixed to them for a time.


    ¡°Try to keep yours where it is. And stop calling me sir. Cease communication until you have the line,¡± I replied, leaving her to her business, while I picked up with mine.


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    ***


    Infiltrating a criminal underworld would not have been a simple task for a militant Inquisitor such as myself, were I not also a psyker. As it was, the powers of suggestion proved invaluable at opening doors otherwise shut and at pushing aside curious eyes. Now, Aerialon was not a Hive World, but rather a Developed one. That did not preclude the existence of a criminal underworld as often arose in Underhives like on Skardak¡¯s Reach. Indeed, most worlds in the Imperium tended to have a criminal element to them, which many an Arbites would spend their lives dissecting and dismantling. Inquisitors, however, rarely trifled with simple criminals as such, unless they began to pursue the means of cults or Xenos aid.


    However, that did not mean we did not know our way around the darker aspects of our beloved Imperium. And again, being a psyker made things a bit easier; names were easy to find, and with them I could build repute and falsify intent. I knew full well that waving around an Inquisitorial Rosette in such spaces would not find me much obedience¡ªindeed, obedience was unlikely at all to begin with, and instead my primary goal was of contractual agreement. To such ends, a man named Charon acted as my guide to a den known as the Raft. Charon did not speak much, but his head was far from simple to navigate. It took some doing to find the name of the Raft in his mind, and it took further convincing still to get him to bring me there, but I managed eventually, thinking to myself that Bliss likely would have been more capable in this regard. She was undoubtedly better at this sort of thing than I was.


    Regardless, the Raft. I gained entrance to it from a wine cellar of a tavern known as Redview, and thereafter followed a labyrinthian maze of winding corridors that, without Charon, I would have been lost within. Having previously felt around a pitch-black underground temple with my mind, I can comfortably say this complex was much vaster and more complicated, even if it was lit up in most areas. But, with Charon as my guide, I did indeed find my way. The Raft itself was hardly something one could call ¡®afloat.¡¯ It was a series of girders, structural support beams, and scaffolding all thrown together throughout a cavern to create small structures and simple abodes. Blue, red, and gold lights illuminated various ¡®shops¡¯ that the Raft¡¯s denizens frequented, from a local medic to an arms dealer to a bounty board, and, of course, to a bar. Charon gestured for me to head to the bar with but a formless mutter before he retreated into the vast maze we had entered from.


    I approached the bar and found its tender to be a single woman wearing a sleeveless tanker¡¯s jacket, her black hair pulled and knotted behind her head, not unlike Bliss¡¯s preferred look. She was cleaning a glass as I approached, and did not turn her face upward to look at me when I arrived. ¡°You¡¯re new here. What are you having?¡± she asked in a mutter.


    ¡°What do you serve?¡± I asked in return. A question was valuable to a psyker; the psychological process of a mind inventing an answer often left it vulnerable, and indeed, in the process of replying to my query, her mind opened to me. I subsumed terms, lingo, a wealth of information required to fit in in the underbelly of Aerialon.


    ¡°If you can find it this side of Cadia, hon, you can find it here,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Glass of Gleece?¡± I suggested with a shrug.


    ¡°Five Thrones,¡± she nodded, and I provided. I had had that on hand before Bliss had sent me my new line of credit, which I intended to save for a larger task than a drink. ¡°Here you are,¡± she said, serving me a glass. ¡°Now the real question, hon, is what are you having?¡±


    ¡°Looking for a contracting agent. Urgent status. Payment on completion. Anyone come to mind?¡± I asked. And indeed, as my view into her head had not been severed, I could tell a handful of individuals came to mind.


    ¡°Charon escorted you down here, didn¡¯t he?¡± she asked. I nodded, then wondered if she could tell I nodded without looking up at me. Her thoughts registered my assent. ¡°Grey sun hat, table on the left, reading the orange book. Address him as Mr. Zark. He¡¯ll ask for your name. Don¡¯t give it to him.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Ms.¡­?¡±


    ¡°Not giving you mine, either,¡± she replied, managing a smirk. ¡°Enjoy the Gleece.¡±


    ¡°I think I will, thanks,¡± I nodded, taking my glass with me over to the man the bartender had indicated. ¡°Mr. Zark,¡± I greeted the man. He didn¡¯t look up from his book, but did nod in acknowledging my address. ¡°Bartender recommended you. I¡¯m here to post a contract.¡±


    ¡°And for whom is this contract for?¡± Zark asked.


    ¡°Not giving you that,¡± I shook my head. He sighed, closed his book, and set it on the table before studying me up and down.


    ¡°She does like testing me,¡± he sighed again. ¡°You¡¯re well-off. Augmetics are fancy, possibly even Master-Crafted. That requires deep connections. You¡¯re not from this world, meaning you can move about the void. There¡¯s scarring around your augmetics, meaning they were given by necessity, not choice. You even have MIU scarring. You¡¯re a soldier, or you were. Now you¡¯re a fixer for a noble house or rogue trader with some frig-you amount of money, but at least you¡¯ll be good for it. Take a seat.¡±


    I did so, taking a moment to glance at the book Zark was reading. The Spheres of Longing, by Gideon Ravenor. I was familiar with it, in passing, though had not touched it myself. Philosophies proved dangerous, in my opinion, especially when from the mind of another Inquisitor. Zark noted my gaze upon his book and asked, ¡°You a fan?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t gotten around to that one yet,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°Shame, been a good read so far. Well, fixer, what¡¯s the contract?¡±


    ¡°Need a target apprehended. Moderate resistance expected. Target is likely attempting to leave this city by spaceport. There is, again, an urgency to this matter for that reason, though I have shut down IS-41 temporarily, which I believe to have been the nearest spaceport for their escape,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Further evidencing your clout,¡± Zark muttered, nodding. ¡°Price point, target identification, operational restrictions?¡±


    ¡°Right, well that¡¯s where things complicate,¡± I sighed, sitting back in my chair. ¡°Target identification,¡± I started, and then forced an image of the Phaenonite into Zark¡¯s head. It was the very vision I had received from the Xenos-dust, albeit pruned to exclude everything but the Phaenonite in question. Nevertheless, Zark was not expecting such psychic imagery to be bombarded into his brain, and shuddered away from me, recoiling into his chair as well. ¡°Problem?¡± I asked, knowing full well what his issue was.


    ¡°No, sir, sorry, sir,¡± Zark murmured, on the verge of breaking down, but not quite there yet. ¡°Am I going to forget this at some point?¡± he asked. I understood, as it was my intent to make the imagery recur in his head should it begin to slip away.


    ¡°When I will it,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Can you transcribe or dictate that imagery to potential customers?¡± I asked. He nodded eagerly. ¡°Excellent. Price point: Four hundred thousand Thrones,¡± I suggested, trying to keep hushed. Zark¡¯s eyes widened and he mouthed the number in response. I nodded to confirm any doubts he may have had. ¡°Like you said, we¡¯ll be good for it, my client and I,¡± I added, leaning into the role of ¡®fixer¡¯ for someone else. ¡°Restrictions: Minimize civilian casualties. I do not expect this operation can succeed without collateral damage, nor do I believe in there being such a thing as excess force. But have your customers aim it at the target as best they can. Are you still with me, Mr. Zark?¡±


    ¡°I¡­I am, sir,¡± he nodded, still catching his breath from the psychic bombardment as much as the numerical price tag I was putting on the Phaenonite¡¯s capture.


    ¡°How soon can the contract be posted? And I want it open, too, available to any that deign to try.¡±


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­one hour? Ninety minutes?¡± he suggested.


    ¡°Get to it, then.¡±

 Chapter 48 - Menace

    IS-41 was on lockdown, but as evidenced from my journey to the Raft and my meeting with Mr. Zark, I had little interest in seeing things through with the activities there. I expected my Phaenonite target, if they had made it there by the time of the lockdown but had not yet left the world, to depart from IS-41 before my arrival, if I attempted such a thing. They would know, then, that I was on to them, though they would not grasp how. They would lay low for the evening, taking the opportunity to witness the billowing flames erupting from Coldbreed in the sky and delighting in the sight. They would try another spaceport in the morning. I knew all of this because, much as I may hate to admit it, they were like me¡ªan Inquisitor. I have spent decades hunting the worst of our kind, but they were of our kind. We knew how to manage resources, bodies, people to accomplish necessary tasks. We knew how and when to show our hand. We knew how to hunt.


    Most disastrously, we both knew moral ambiguity was not a major line to cross.


    ***


    IS-38 was experiencing a clear skied but nevertheless stressful morning. The first surface-to-orbit launch of the day had been delayed due to fuel issues¡ªsomehow, tanker vehicle T6 had been misplaced. The launch did happen eventually, but it was delayed by more than an hour, which launch control knew would have rippling ramifications on the remainder of the day¡¯s schedule. And sure enough, fuel management for launch two was still playing catch-up as the takeoff neared. However, launch control¡¯s woes were only just beginning.


    Shortly after an orbit-to-surface lander had arrived at IS-38, before its personnel even began to depart, a flurry of popping sounds echoed out from the main staging area of the facility, seeming like clicking by the time they arrived at launch control¡¯s tower. Initially, launch control was not sure what they were hearing. Then security began screaming over the vox. ¡°That lander, close it!¡± someone yelled, briefly freezing everyone in launch control from the sheer ambiguity of the request.


    ¡°Launch to security, please repeat your previous¡ª¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s shooting at Gate 17! Do not let those passengers disembark from their vehicle!¡± security roared back. ¡°And suspend all pending launches and landings!¡±


    ¡°Launch to security, we don¡¯t have the authority to decide¡ª¡±


    ¡°By Russ¡¯s sacrosanct taint, man! Damn your authority! Gate 17 is turning into an active warzone and you¡¯re talking about¡ªsergeant! Man down, man down, we need a medic!¡±


    ¡°Notify city tactical teams, we have an Outbreak-class event,¡± Overseer Jenzo Rica ordered a deckhand. ¡°Can we get a view of what¡¯s going on in there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, pict screens seven through fifteen showing our sensorium scanners in Gate 17¡­now,¡± another deckhand reported. A number of picters flicked to a live feed of, as the security member reported, a warzone. Gasps emerged from agape mouths at the sight of the violence; no one in launch control was a soldier, it seemed.


    ¡°Have all active security personnel converge on 17, now!¡± Rica shouted before reaching for the voxcaster unit himself. ¡°Launch Overseer to security, what¡¯s your status?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hit! We need backup! There¡¯s a private army here and it¡¯s fighting off gangs and mercs and we¡¯re all caught in the crossfire!¡± the security member reported.


    ¡°Backup is on its way, ETA¡­,¡± Rica started, then shot a glare across the room to the first deckhand. He held up two fingers. ¡°Two minutes. A-Tact has been notified. Can you hold your position, or safely seek medical attention?¡±


    ¡°I can try, launch.¡±


    ¡°Bless you. The Emperor protects,¡± Rica replied. There was no response. But as time went on, the shooting intensified, rather than diminishing. If this was a war, it had only just been started. But at last, a painstakingly-lengthy minute later, the revving engines of armored security teams whizzed past the launch control tower. Launch control watched on with momentary joy in the selfish thought that their nightmare might be about to end, but smiles soured at the sight of rocket munitions on the tarmac. One armored vehicle exploded and capsized in an instant, flying forward in bellowing flame before crashing against the side of Gate 18. Two more were driven away by gunfire and mortar shelling, the latter coming from what must have been the parking stations. Security, it seemed, would not be enough to help IS-38.


    ¡°Boss, look there,¡± a dour deckhand indicated, looking through an ocular auspex scanner toward Gate 16. He handed the auspex to Rica as the Overseer approached, where Rica then beheld what must have been the private army the security guard had referenced. They were moving as a pack onto the tarmac, shooting at unseen foes in the Gate itself. An armored vehicle then pulled up behind the private army, and it looked to Rica as though they were loading a single person into it. Mortar shells slammed into the tarmac all around the vehicle, impeding its path, but very distinctly not striking the vehicle itself. A few moments later, the vehicle spun off, streaking down the tarmac away from Gate 16.


    Rica followed its path for a time, through the auspex, before another deckhand spoke up. ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that T6?¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡± Rica asked, pulling his face out of the auspex.


    ¡°Tanker T6, our missing fuel truck from launch one. It¡¯s driving toward¡ª¡± the deckhand began, but did not need to finish his sentence. It was abundantly clear what T6 was driving for: the armored vehicle that had just secured what must have been the private army¡¯s VIP. Launch control watched in awe as T6 sped across the tarmac before smashing into the armored vehicle, catching the latter on its front grill and plowing it through the brick wall of Gate 12 in a crushing display of violence.


    ***


    I had to shoulder-check my door to get out of the tanker; the driver¡¯s compartment was totally wrecked and it was a blessing, albeit a calculated one, that I had not been crushed. Eventually, after a few attempts, I managed to shove my way out of the truck, falling to dusty, brick-covered ground. I landed, hard, on my front, and may have broken a rib atop a chunk of plascrete. I groaned in pain as I pushed myself off the ground, then spit blood onto where my face had just laid. I heard grunting and moaning not unlike my own from the armored vehicle I had just rammed, and at that knew I needed to move. My augmetic hand flattened the plascrete terrain and bricks within its grasp as I shot to my feet, raising my combat shotgun and moving my augmetic grip to its pump.


    The driver of the vehicle fell out from his seat in much the same fashion as I had, though as he rose to his feet I blew a hole through his torso, back to front. It was then, finally, that I had spotted my quarry: the female Phaenonite I had been pursuing for days now. Unfortunately, I was not the only one to have found her. ¡°There she is! Hey, that¡¯s our mark, muffet!¡± shouted the apparent leader of a group of my own mercenaries, barging into the rubble of the Gate I had shattered. I admit, ¡®muffet¡¯ was a new one for me¡ªmust be local to Aerialon. Regardless, I froze them in place with my mind before blowing them to bits one by one with my shotgun, then turned my attention back to the Phaenonite.


    She had stumbled some good distance away, but was not yet beyond my range, and I shot her in the back as I had her driver. She was launched further from me still, though where everyone else¡¯s body had splattered from my shotgun, she remained in one piece. Warpcraft and all that. I then thought to scan her armored vehicle for other signs of life, and indeed, some of her guards remained in the corpse of the car they had been using. I ended their lives with my mind, crushing their bodies from within a crushed vehicle, while striding forth toward the Phaenonite. She began to stand to her feet from my first blast so I shot her again as I neared, again launching her a bit away from me.


    While she landed on her front from that hit, she turned onto her backside as I neared, and asked, ¡°Is this what your peace looks like, Blackgar? A spaceport covered in crimson?¡±


    ¡°This is the path to peace, paved over the skulls of traitors,¡± I replied, levying my shotgun at her face, though it was not my intent to decapitate her. ¡°You got a name?¡±


    ¡°Our intel suggested you usually figure that out on your own,¡± she sneered.


    ¡°You are well informed. And I could, if I wanted. But while we¡¯re talking, I¡¯d rather talk,¡± I shrugged, then primed my shotgun with another pump. ¡°Don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to, though.¡±


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    ¡°Amelia Fae, Ordo Xenos,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Excommunicate Traitoris, I might add,¡± I smirked. ¡°And you sure seem to have taken a liking to those Xenos.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose I have,¡± she grinned, and whipped an arm out from under her backside, wielding a familiarly stygian object that my mind could not detect. I saw it for but a moment, but did not need to know its form or function to know it was a weapon of Xenos origin. Whatever it was, I smacked it aside, out from her grip, with the barrel of my shotgun before unloading a shell into her gut, crushing her against the plascrete floor.


    ¡°You really think I¡¯m that slow?¡± I sighed, panting.


    ¡°No, but it was worth a shot,¡± she grunted, not much affected by common weaponry; few of the Phaenonites I had captured had been, many had perished to my mind. ¡°Tell me this, Blackgar: how do you plan to get me out of here? You want me alive. You took Prareus alive on Canicus, you took Heirene alive on Skardak. I assume the trend persists, so how do you intend to do it, hm? There¡¯s a few dozen mercs a couple Gates away, and even if you can convince them you hired them, I still have half an army on site.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what happened to the other half?¡± I asked with a grin. I then backed away from her. ¡°Get up.¡±


    She started to, but my orders were immediately dashed by the mechanized shouting of a force I did not yet expect to be there. ¡°On the ground, now! Drop the weapon!¡± an Arbites officer yelled at us both.


    Tossing the weapon aside, I replied, ¡°I am Inquisitor Callant Blackgar, and¡ª¡± And I found Fae was saying what I was in unison. She winked to me, the two of us raising our hands over our heads as the Arbites officers approached, flanked by city tactical teams. I had been taken by Arbites before. It had cost me an arm. I was not much looking forward to repeating the journey, but I did not see much of an option in the presence of a treacherous Inquisitor, who knew the same tricks I did.


    While one Callant Blackgar may have been able to boss the Arbites around¡ªeven with the stunt I pulled in shutting down IS-41 the day prior¡ªtwo Callant Blackgars complicated things. Both of us were put under arrest. I did not blame them for that response, as they still needed to secure a spaceport all the same and did not have the time to deal with our squabbling. Unfortunately, this only meant that our day of violence would be even further from ending.


    ***


    Fae and I were placed into separate armored prisoner vehicles, as it seemed to the arresting officers that we would otherwise try to kill each other if carried in the same transport. A fair deduction, all in all. These vehicles were lower to the ground and featured more and heavier plating on their frames than the carriage I had crushed with a fuel tanker. On the interior, a grated panel separated the prisoners¡ªmyself or Fae¡ªfrom their drivers. This unfortunately meant that the prisoners and drivers could communicate with each other, which I immediately knew to be extremely dangerous. To an Inquisitor, especially a traitor Inquisitor, words were weapons as potent as any other.


    ¡°Did you see his arm?¡± asked one of my drivers to his copilot as they both ducked into the vehicle.


    ¡°Yeah, where the hell do you get something like that?¡± his copilot replied, glancing back at me through the grate between us. I stared at him, emotionless, busy reading thoughts he did not know he had.


    ¡°Inquisition?¡± the first driver¡ªDavid, as I gleamed from the head of his partner (Chris)¡ªsuggested.


    ¡°Maybe. But one of them has to be lying, right?¡± Chris shrugged. Our vehicle began to move, Fae¡¯s transport being driven behind ours.


    ¡°I guess. Did you see her¡­whatever the hell was on her body?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Speak of her form no further, and forget what you¡¯ve witnessed,¡± I warned him. ¡°She is no sight for faithful servants of the Throne.¡±


    David, driving, looked to Chris and shrugged. Chris looked back to me. ¡°How¡¯d you get the arm?¡±


    ¡°By losing the first one,¡± I grunted.


    ¡°Alright, wise ass, how¡¯d that happen?¡±


    ¡°By making the same mistake I¡¯m making now,¡± I sighed. His face gestured for me to elaborate. ¡°Complying out of humility.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re an Inquisitor, where¡¯s your Rosette? Aren¡¯t they all supposed to have one?¡± David asked without taking his eyes off the road. Chris nodded in agreement.


    ¡°That¡¯s not for you to know,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Officers, maintain course. I need a moment,¡± I instructed of them, and closed my eyes. I felt their ambient confusion, but Chris looked away from me and relative silence returned, obscured only by a Machine Spirit¡¯s roaring engine and the thumping of wheels on ill-paved terrain. My mind moved a few meters behind our vehicle, into Fae¡¯s, and began to poke and prod at her. I discovered, immediately, that she was a psyker too. Not as powerful of one as I, and ultimately she may not have even known she possessed such gifts. Or she was withholding them from me intentionally, to spring a trap later on. Regardless, her mind fought against my own without her attention being given to the task, and I did not want that to change¡ªI did not want her to know I was trying to move about her mind. I did, however, discern the conversations occurring within her vehicle. ¡°The officers in the vehicle behind us,¡± I began, addressing David and Chris. ¡°How well do you know them?¡±


    ¡°For as long as they¡¯ve been on the service, which has not been long. A couple years, perhaps,¡± David shrugged.


    ¡°Could you defend yourselves against them?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ha! Gavin is a tiny little shit. Couldn¡¯t hurt a fly if he tried,¡± Chris barked.


    ¡°Rephrase: would you defend yourselves against them?¡±


    ¡°Not sure I like this line of questioning, ¡®Inquisitor.¡¯ Might just tell you to shut up,¡± David replied.


    ¡°Do they have families?¡± I asked. Silence. ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°Alright, yeah, let¡¯s go back to not talking with one another,¡± David growled.


    ¡°One of your prisoners is an Inquisitor, right? Then what¡¯s the other one?¡± I asked them both. They exchanged a worried glance with each other. ¡°In the realm of truth, I am the Inquisitor, and the creature behind us is feeding lies to her drivers. She is a mutant psyker, and she knows their names. She knows details about their families. She is threatening them to kill you both, and then to kill me. In the realm of lies, I am not an Inquisitor. I may have asked about your families¡¯ possible existence, yes, but I have not threatened them, and I do not intend to. So in which realm are we, gentlemen?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in the realm of shut the frig up and let us do our jobs!¡± Chris shouted back.


    ¡°Your jobs,¡± and lives, I thought, ¡°are inconsequential to mine. I cannot allow that woman behind us to see success today.¡±


    ¡°Well, both of you are arrested and cuffed, so I don¡¯t think success is in the cards for either of you friggers today,¡± David shot back. ¡°Cops don¡¯t kill cops, you son of a bitch.¡±


    ¡°Brace for pit maneuver in four seconds,¡± I commanded, bracing myself in the backseat of the vehicle. David¡¯s eyes flicked to his mirrors, but by then it was too late; the engine block of Fae¡¯s transport tapped against the weightless rear end of mine, and we spun out of control in an instant. With our circular momentum, we raced into a nearby lane separator of the speedway we were on, and from there our vehicle went airborne. When we landed, we did so on the roof of our vehicle, our forward momentum carrying us further still as the armor plating screeched against the plascrete speedway. Fae¡¯s transport, meanwhile, burned rubber to a stop a short distance ahead of us.


    I was a bit dizzy, and knew I was bleeding¡ªwhatever wound I had received in landing on some bricks at IS-38 had been exacerbated then. But I could hear the doors open for the drivers of Fae¡¯s vehicle, and I could hear the footsteps approach. I could hear the autopistols be primed. I could sense the malice, uncertain and fearful though it was. I knew I could not, however, simply kill our encroaching assailants¡ªthat would not do. So, instead, I stepped beyond myself.


    Two feet stepped up to the driver¡¯s side of our vehicle, in front of David, who was still strapped to his seat. Chris, meanwhile, managed to undo his strappings and fell to the grounded roof of our transport, shattered glass and steel digging into his shoulderblades. The feet near David tensed up, their owner beginning to bend down to look inside our vehicle, but before they did so, David moved like lightning, snapping his autopistol out his crushed window and disintegrating the ankles that stood just beyond. His would-be murderer fell to the ground in screaming agony, though that ended just as quickly as David drilled lead between his eyes.


    Chris, meanwhile, spun out of the vehicle as his respective assailant neared, kicking away their autopistol in the process. Chris fought in hand-to-hand combat against his foe, then, despite what should have been a heavy disadvantage from his injuries. However, he moved with zealous fury and unnatural speed, and the advanced Pyrran fighting style he employed utterly overwhelmed the corrupted officer. Chris drew his own autopistol, then, and gunned the beaten and battered officer down before they could reach for their weapon across the speedway. Chris and David, now both out of the vehicle, then turned their attention to me, moving in fluid harmony to safely dislodge me from the transport and move me over to Fae¡¯s.


    When they neared, David kept his weapon trained on Fae, who was visibly disappointed her ploy had not succeeded. They gestured for her to move aside in the backseat, where they then strapped me in next to her before taking their own positions up front. Then, finally, I stopped waring them both.


    ¡°What in the, oh, Throne, that burns,¡± Chris groaned, hands to his head.


    David, meanwhile, was taking it even worse. ¡°What did you do? What did you make us do? Cops don¡¯t kill cops, cops don¡¯t kill cops, what did we do?¡±


    ¡°I saved your lives. Drive,¡± I panted, also out of breath.


    ¡°You said she was a psyker!¡± Chris shouted, waving his gun at both of us.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± I nodded, glancing to her for a moment as she rolled her eyes, then I looked back to Chris. ¡°But I never said I wasn¡¯t. Drive.¡±


    ¡°You see the monster he makes of those he touches?¡± Fae tried. ¡°You¡¯d do the Throne a favor to shoot him here.¡±


    ¡°Save the ammunition; I¡¯ll halt it if you try. Drive,¡± I repeated for the third time.


    ¡°Chris, muzzle them both. Her because he was right, him because¡­he was right,¡± David sighed, still coming to grips with his new reality. ¡°We¡¯ll let the Arbites have them. I don¡¯t think we¡­Throne, my hands are shaking bad.¡±


    ¡°It will pass,¡± I assured him, nodding to Chris as he moved to muzzle me and Fae. I do not think he was waiting for my permission. Panicked silence followed for the remainder of our journey. Eventually, after two hours on the roads, we arrived at the central police station of the city, a veritable fortress in all but name. There, we were unloaded from the vehicle at gunpoint, and before even stepping inside the building, my augmetic arm was removed from me. They wanted to try to remove some of Fae¡¯s augmetics too, but found they did not possess the tools for such a task, to no surprise. The last thing I saw before being loaded into the vast, plascrete police fortress was the sight of the Coldbreed in the sky. While no longer billowing explosions of flame, to say it was smoldering would have been an understatement.

 Chapter 49 - Prison

    David and Chris were sent home for the remainder of the day for psychological reaffirment and stability assurance. There was only one Arbites present in the prison, as the rest that were otherwise available were presently dispatched to the cleanup of IS-38. My arm was confiscated as evidence, and a number of picts were taken of Fae¡¯s augmetic body likewise, with her consent. We were then both thrown into the same cell, and without our muzzles, despite some protest from a few of the guards, as our cell bordered that of a civilian prisoner. The Arbites officer assuaged fears for the safety of that prisoner by demanding the presence of three armed guards immediately outside our cell at all times. Questioning would happen the next day or the day after, to let us stew for as long as possible. Fae and I both knew, however, that one way or another, we would not be here so long.


    As I sat on one of two benches in our shared cell, I glanced behind myself at the civilian. She was laying on her back, chewing gum and blowing a bubble with it, and seemed not to care for the presence of her new neighbors. Her clothes were raggedy and did not fit her at all, being too small, suggesting that perhaps they were provided by the station itself and that these were not actually her belongings. I paid her little mind beyond that, for I was not as interested with her existence as I was Fae¡¯s.


    ¡°You¡¯re a tough man to put down,¡± Fae muttered, sitting on the other bench of our cell across from me. She crossed her legs over one another while leaning back, hands by her sides on the bench.


    ¡°So I keep hearing,¡± I shrugged. ¡°You wanted your body seen.¡±


    She shrugged as well. ¡°Destabilization of the norm has to start somewhere. Those picts probably won¡¯t get too far, but they¡¯ll be something. You know you¡¯re not getting out of here alive, right?¡±


    ¡°Keep hearing that one, too,¡± I chuckled. ¡°And I keep getting out all the same. Say, just out of curiosity, how many soldiers do you have at your command? I know you¡¯re getting them from Calixis, probably elsewhere, we don¡¯t have to tip-toe around that. You had half an army left at IS-38. You presumably have more elsewhere. It¡¯s no surprise to me that you have what you have, I¡¯m just curious how your Cell decides who gets what.¡±


    ¡°Well, each of us get what we¡¯re owed for our duties. My work here was particularly important, so I was owed quite a bit. And in turn, I have a good few more resources up my sleeves, torn though they are,¡± she muttered, looking over her now-sleeveless shirt. It had not been so prior to our arrival at the station.


    ¡°Right. Resources,¡± I nodded to myself. ¡°And my ship?¡±


    She shrugged again. ¡°Words are powerful things. You know this, I know this. Prareus and Heirene know this. Mutiny has to start somewhere.¡±


    ¡°My crew would not mutiny,¡± I assured her, shaking my head in dismissal.


    ¡°And, yet¡­,¡± she smiled, raising her hands forward as though to demonstrate the reality we lived in. Point taken. ¡°You had the Sister and the Scion on this world. You would have used them at the spaceport. You sent them back up there?¡±


    ¡°And they will reduce Prareus and Heirene to mulch if need be,¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°That won¡¯t do you much good down here, though,¡± she warned.


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°No, Blackgar, you won¡¯t. Not from me and mine. The others want you on Amnes Minoris. I will disappoint them by killing you here, but disappointment will matter little, and will not interfere with our operation as you have. Antonius Sigird almost killed you. Ryke and Silverman almost killed you. Holicar Espirov almost killed you. You have teetered on the edge of death for so very long, and have relied on the strength of others to stay upright. What I have coming will push you over for good, though, now that you¡¯re alone,¡± she threatened.


    ¡°You know, Espirov and Sigird did come pretty close, I¡¯ll give them that, but you Phaenonites never really impressed as much,¡± I replied in a barking laugh, leaning back against the other wall of the cell. ¡°I popped Silverman like a zit and ground Ryke to dust, and even together they did not push me too hard. Even if I am alone, of which I do not believe I am as there are a great number of loyal servants of the Throne between us and the outside world, but even were that not so, you do not much concern me, Fae.¡±


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    ¡°They won¡¯t matter,¡± Fae shrugged. ¡°And a year from now, neither will you.¡± She then looked to our guards. ¡°Look at them. Loyal, faithful, dutiful. Weak, with but one life to live before the sum of their duty is snuffed out. They are no defense to you. I expect mine are almost here, and even were the Arbites at IS-38 to return in a timely manner, they would not matter either. You¡¯re the soldier, Blackgar¡ªyou tell me what you think I would need to get to you in this cell, hm?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d need more than men,¡± I shrugged, and to my dismay, she nodded. I still did not grasp the extent of her plan or her resources, having not wanted to exert myself to dig into her mind. I was still recovering from waring the two officers from earlier, and even if I could get a sneak peek at what she was planning, I was unlikely to stop it from inside a prison cell. My mind was better tasked to recovery for the time being. ¡°You¡¯d need armor to breach the outer walls, air support for recon and to prevent survivors from escaping and warning others, and you¡¯d need ewar equipment to prevent voxcasts.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Blackgar, very good, I would need these things,¡± she grinned, then tapped her head toward our guards again. ¡°How long do you suppose their loyalty would last before they beg me to let them kill you for their own lives?¡±


    ¡°I have stared down Espirov¡¯s army before, and somehow I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll put a Scorpius or¡ªThrone¡ªa puppet Angel to the field,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°My understanding of that engagement is you ran for your life and were again saved by your allies, rather than doing much staring at all,¡± she laughed.


    ¡°You lot are curiously well-informed,¡± I noted.


    ¡°Eternity will do that,¡± she replied, laughing again. Engineering eternity, I thought to myself. That was the goal of these heretics. It was with that thought, then, that I heard it: the low ruffling of rotors in the air, high above. I felt around with my mind and saw their source: two gunships. Troops on the ground. Armor at the back. Fae¡¯s army was here. ¡°Can you hear that?¡± she asked, though I do not know which sound she was referring to. I folded my hands in my lap and took one long, deep breath in and out.


    But what I heard next was not rampant shooting, but the stomping of ceramite feet. The Arbites overseeing our incarceration approached our cell. ¡°Whichever one of you has the army outside, you will have them stand down, and I will consider that with your sentencing,¡± he addressed us both, fully armored already and weapons in hand.


    ¡°No, I think not. This is where the charade ends. From here on you will do as I say or you will meet your maker, Rotting God or otherwise,¡± Fae declared, rising from her bench. I remained still, continuing to focus on my breathing. ¡°First order: release me and kill him.¡±


    ¡°Release the prisoner,¡± the Arbites muttered, and Fae managed a grin. One of the three officers hesitated, then went for our cell. ¡°No, not that one, the civilian,¡± the Arbites corrected, replacing Fae¡¯s grin with his own as hers faded to a scowl. ¡°You will both remain imprisoned for the day and night. The Emperor protects,¡± the Arbites declared, and then stormed off in the direction he had arrived from. Fae sneered, but returned to her bench as the aforementioned officer moved over to the civilian¡¯s cell and began to free her.


    ¡°Right this way, miss, we gotta get you out of here,¡± the officer instructed when he got her cell open. A bubble burst, was cleaned up by the civilian¡¯s tongue, and only then did she rise to her feet with an uncaring shrug and head for the exit of her cell. The moment that she exited, however, her mood and demeanor swung completely, taking everyone but myself by surprise. She assaulted the guard that freed her, drew the guard¡¯s weapon and whipped it into the other two who were beginning to respond to her assault, and then leapt into the air like an acrobat to bring them both to the ground in a pirouetting tackle. While this went on, I rose to my feet and took one last, deep breath before stretching my neck from side to side.


    Eventually, after a few forcibly hushed moments of combat, the woman had knocked the three guards unconscious and took one of their keyrings to the door of our cell, priming an autogun on Fae in the process. It was only then that Fae finally caught on, as I was released and she remained locked up. ¡°Scantily clad as ever, Carmichael,¡± I greeted my Agent with a grin.


    ¡°Gotta make do with what we¡¯ve got, boss,¡± Bliss smiled, happily puffing her barely-covered chest out. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°I want my arm back,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°Can we afford to leave her here?¡± Bliss asked.


    I looked back to Fae, whose eyes were of searing daggers toward me. ¡°Something tells me she won¡¯t be running off again, will she?¡±


    ¡°Right behind you, Blackgar,¡± she growled.


    ¡°Right. Let¡¯s get moving,¡± I declared, reaching down to a guard and taking their own autogun for myself. It was then, finally, that the shooting started.

 Chapter 50 - Break In

    The shooting was light at first, which made sense¡ªFae¡¯s ¡®army¡¯ likely did not know exactly where she was in the building they were assaulting, and so would not have wanted to engage with heavier armaments until they had secured her. That hesitance would buy me and Bliss time to get to my impounded arm, though beyond that I did not have much of a plan. I did not tell Bliss that, though. I had two objectives¡ªsurvive and capture the Phaenonite¡ªbut no clear path to bringing them to fruition. However, I did see three advantages I could leverage: on the part of survival, I had the Arbites and supporting officers, who I expected I could sway in a pinch or ware again. I also had Bliss, who was, to me, still a mystery in terms of her full capabilities and reliability, but she had exceeded every requirement I had asked of her thus far. Finally, I had the fact that Fae wanted to find and kill me, unlike her traitorous allies who wanted to capture me or goad me to Amnes Minoris. That she was willing to go to such lengths to see such a desire realized also meant a greater chance of overextension and mistakes being made on her part. Still, though, she did have an army, and I did not.


    Bliss and I stalked through the compound relatively unopposed. A couple officers did get in our way only to be swiftly incapacitated by Bliss¡¯s martial arts skills, but most, I expected, were tasked to defending the exits¡ªand therefore entrances¡ªof the complex. Our journey, hushed but hurried, was not leading us to such destinations. It only took us a few minutes to find the compound¡¯s evidence locker, which my mind quickly removed the reinforced door from. I then scanned the room over and found my arm in an instant, willing it to me after tossing Bliss the autogun I had taken. I caught my arm as she caught my weapon, and I began affixing it to the mounting apparatus within and around my shoulder.


    ¡°If you see something helpful here, take it,¡± I told Bliss while setting myself up. The flow of power from my shoulder into my arm was far from complete, in that I could only barely move my fingers. Using any of the more advanced features Varnus had provided me with would take some time longer.


    ¡°Do you suppose a place like this has an armory?¡± Bliss wondered, searching around for whatever she could find. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind some, you know, body armor. Or better clothes, at least.¡±


    ¡°Could be worth checking out,¡± I agreed, flexing my augmetic hand before my eyes. ¡°What are you in for, by the way?¡±


    ¡°Vandalism,¡± she chuckled.


    ¡°I regret asking,¡± I smiled. I then caught the combat shotgun I had used at IS-38 out of the corner of my eyes. I chose to leave it there in evidence for now; an autogun would have more range and that could be crucial. ¡°How¡¯d you know to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Callant, I¡¯m not an idiot,¡± Bliss replied. ¡°You needed money for something, you suspected our target would go for a spaceport, and then a spaceport erupted into chaos and warfare. I heard the Arbites call go out. It seemed likely to me that you, on your own, would run into a scrap with the Arbites, Phaenonite in tow or not. If you got arrested, I wanted to be there to help break you out.¡±


    ¡°And if I didn¡¯t get arrested?¡± I asked, taking my autogun back from Bliss and watching out the door we had broken through.


    She shrugged and frowned, and with pure indifference, answered, ¡°Then I¡¯d just break myself out of prison. Not too different.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I grinned, and almost managed a laugh.


    ¡°The warzone does complicate things a bit, though,¡± Bliss noted, joining me at the door. No body armor, but she did find some bandoliers and accompanying ammunition cartridges, the former of which held the latter and had been strapped over her torso. ¡°Where to, Boss?¡±


    ¡°Armory?¡± I shrugged.


    She nodded with a gentle grin. ¡°I¡¯ll take point,¡± she offered, and slid out of the doorway. I followed after her, weapon readied atop two arms. My mind, meanwhile, was watching everything in the complex. The officers were losing, which did not surprise me. We would hit heavier opposition from the true enemy soon. And Fae¡­


    ¡°She¡¯s out. Watch your footing,¡± I warned Bliss.


    ¡°My footing?¡± she frowned.


    ¡°They have armor and air support, as she warned. They¡¯ll use that now that they have her secured,¡± I explained. ¡°No guarantee of the floor staying where it is.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Bliss nodded. She then placed a hand against a door at the end of a hall before turning to me. I nodded to her, and she pushed it open, and from there, we stepped through into hell itself. We had not found the armory, but rather a defense perimeter block currently under siege. Bliss and I opened fire at once while diving to cover behind individual slabs of ceramite, reinforced with plascrete. Fae¡¯s army encroached from all directions, moving with greater militant cohesion than the officers of our defense provided, and they were not entirely at our defense either. None of them opened fire upon us, but many hesitated at the sight of us, which was telling enough and could prove deadly in open combat with the enemy.


    To my left, a goliath of white crushed the face of one of our foes into our shared barrier, his enemy¡¯s head vanishing between the slab and fist of ceramite that came down upon it. The Arbites then collapsed next to his slain foe, back against the cover we were sharing, and glanced to me. ¡°Inquisitor,¡± he muttered, understanding the state of things at once. A hole in your gut will do that to you; it was not large, but he and I shared an exchange of eyes indicating we both knew it was not survivable.


    ¡°Arbites,¡± I nodded to him, speaking under the gunfire.


    ¡°I should not have arrested you, sir,¡± he sighed.


    ¡°You were doing your job in an impossible scenario. I do not resent you for that.¡±


    ¡°I brought you to your death,¡± he returned.


    ¡°I¡¯m not dying here,¡± I assured him.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot out there, sir, and they¡¯re jamming our vox.¡±


    +I¡¯m not dying here.+


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He paused for a moment before nodding, then coughed up a handful of blood before reaching for and handing me his own combat shotgun. I shook my head, and raised the autogun I had taken, indicating I preferred it. He nodded again, and pumped the shotgun himself, willing to go out fighting. ¡°The Emperor¡­protects,¡± he grunted, a sliver of blood drooling from his lips. ¡°Do what you must, Inquisitor Blackgar. Just kill these bastards along the way.¡±


    ¡°I will, Arbites. Fight and die with honor,¡± I told him, placing my weapon down for a moment to bow to him with the Sign of the Aquila.


    He set his weapon in his lap and returned the gesture to me, then picked his weapon back up and shouted, ¡°Ave Imperator! Gloria in Excelsis Terra!¡± I nodded to him again, but he did not wait for me to do so before painstakingly trudging back into combat. I do not know what happened to him, specifically, for I never saw him again. I do know, however, that he did not survive the battle¡ªthere was no saving him. I also know the Throne will not have mercy on those so willingly defying a most loyal servant as he. I never sought his name, either¡ªI had more pressing things on my mind.


    Chief among them was the fact that when the Arbites left my side, Fae appeared across the room, escorted by a veritable platoon of her own goons. ¡°There!¡± she shouted, identifying me at once. ¡°Kill Callant Blackgar!¡± I responded by wasting a few precious seconds reaching out with my mind in an attempt to turn her minions to bloody pastes, only to be fought back not by the nothingness I had felt from her Xenos technology, but by the anti-psyker wards these Phaenonites so often employed, possibly devised from the Xenos and Pariahs alike. Instead of obliterating them, I instead came under fire myself, and ducked around what little cover I could from that angle. But there was someone trying to kill me from every angle.


    +Door!+ I instructed to Bliss as she turned to face Fae, having heard the Phaenonite call for my end. Bliss had been holding her own fine until then, but recognized that was only because we had not been the focus of the army¡¯s assault. That was about to change, and she did as I instructed, swinging the door we had entered from back open. She and I then raced back into it.


    ¡°You can¡¯t run forever, Blackgar!¡± Fae shrieked from behind us as we retreated further into the complex. ¡°I¡¯ll be just outside if you need me! Give me the vox!¡± I did not know what she intended to use a vox for, but I did not imagine I would find it pleasant.


    In the meantime, Bliss and I fled side by side down the hallway we had come down earlier, turning in unison as the door behind us yawned open. We sprayed our pursuers back for a time, but did not score any kills¡ªthey were expecting our retaliation. These soldiers were much more capable and organized than any we had faced so far. Maybe Fae was important enough to warrant the elite. That just made my success here all the more critical.


    Rather than run straight down the hallway and be trivially pursued, I instead invited Bliss through a narrow crevice we had passed the first time. I had no idea where it led, but getting any heavy equipment through it would have been impossible, which worked great for us. I took the lead through it, squeezing my way between two great walls of plascrete. Bliss followed. I knew our timing was tight, as tight as the not-a-passage we were trying to fit through. Unfortunately, it wound up being too tight, and I only barely emerged from the crevice when I spotted two soldiers down the hallway we had just taken.


    ¡°Down!¡± I shouted to Bliss, and she squeezed down as best she could while I shot over her, attempting to drive them back. A door then opened to my left and another soldier emerged from it, lasgun already at the ready. I spun on my heels and lit him up at once, but knew I could not ignore Bliss, and so simply grabbed hold of her with my mind and yanked her out of the crevice myself. She landed on her side, then spun onto her back and also shot through the crevice as I had been. It was too narrow to take a meaningful fight through, though, and we had to move. I, therefore, raised my augmetic hand up to the ceiling over the crevice, and loosed a single Bolter round from my palm. That was all I had of the sort, but it sufficed for blowing out and collapsing the ceiling behind us, while in the meantime Bliss turned to take gun down two more soldiers that entered from the door I had earlier covered. ¡°Move,¡± I commanded, and she silently obeyed, sticking by my side as we fled in the other direction.


    It was then that Fae spoke through the vox array of the building, but revealed her communication was more wideband than that. ¡°Attention all Arbites and law enforcement of Aerialon-4: I am Inquisitor Callant Blackgar,¡± she lied to the city¡¯s forces. Bliss glanced to me when hearing that lie, but kept herself focused nonetheless. ¡°You interrupted me at IS-38, but I will not allow that to happen again. I am engaged with a heretic at your headquarters in the city. Do not interfere, for not only will you risk your lives in the process, but I will visit the Throne¡¯s Wrath upon you should you hamper my efforts a second time. I have brought ample resources to task, and I expect things will get loud. Restrain yourself from getting in my way.¡±


    ¡°Here come the big guns,¡± I muttered. Bliss nodded in agreement.


    And indeed, after a few hallways more of frantic fighting, we both heard the spin of rotors and the growl of an approaching engine. Through holes in the walls created in our rampant combat, I was able to spy our next challenge: one of the two gunships in Fae¡¯s arsenal, frontal heavy autogun revving up. A moment later, the entirety of the hallway we were in exploded into shards of plascrete and ceramite, piercing tracer rounds slicing through everything in sight and utterly shredding our wing of the complex. Bliss and I only survived because I recalled the full focus of my mind from any logistical intel gathering into the deflection of such an assault, shielding our bodies behind invisible barriers, but even those were only so strong.


    I had caught some of the munitions thrown our way, and willed them toward the gunship itself when the onslaught had finished, but they plinked off its hull harmlessly. In retaliation, the gunship opened fire again, and I was forced to my knees in maintaining that defense. Meanwhile, soldiers entered from either side of the hall, tasking Bliss with more than it seemed she could handle. Maybe I really am going to die here, I thought, looking to Bliss, and found her looking at me as well. She realized the desperation she was feeling was shared by me, but kept her cool for a moment longer. Without the opportunity to speak or think, she instead flicked her eyes to a strap of the bandolier wrapped around her left hip, and I understood. I psychically messaged her formless, wordless assent, and when the gunship finished that volley of shooting, I instead whipped what I had caught into one end of the hallway, shredding the soldiers approaching from that direction.


    Bliss, meanwhile, reached to her hip, slid a black, boxy krak grenade from her bandolier, and pulled the pin before tossing it in my direction. She, then, turned her full attention down the other end of the hallway, suppressing down our assailants in that direction. My mind grabbed hold of the krak grenade and flung it skyward, out of the now-gaping holes in the wall toward the gunship. The small thing could not have been seen at such a distance, which allowed it to sneak just under the aircraft undetected, before exploding in all of its anti-armor holiness. The gunship recoiled in panicked flight, but, unfortunately, was not knocked fully out of the air. It balanced itself after the explosion and moved for another pass on slicing my head off, but to its surprise¡ªand mine¡ªfound it could not. Its weapon had jammed in the concussive shock from the krak grenade.


    Great news, or so I thought, until the gunship backed off but still did not fully retreat away. It was then that I recognized the presence of the missiles on its wings, and perhaps just in time. At once, I shot to my feet with what little strength I still had, and ran for Bliss. I did not have the wherewithal to send her a psychic message, and even if I had thought to, I may not have had the strength remaining to manage the ordinarily-simple task. All the same, I reached her when the first missile launched, and had tackled myself into her by surprise when the missile struck the building. In the blink of an eye, flames erupted all around us, silenced only by the rubble. Two more rockets followed soon thereafter.

 Chapter 51 - Break Out

    ¡°I don¡¯t care if you nuked him with a Deathstrike!¡± shouted a feminine, muffled, and robotic voice. It was robotic because it was carried over a crackling vox. It was muffled because I was covered in plascrete and ceramite¡ªmy ribs really were not happy with this development. The voice itself was feminine¡ªFae¡¯s. ¡°Blackgar isn¡¯t dead until you find his body and put a bullet in his head! So go do that!¡±


    Speaking of my head, a chunk of rubble was lifted off it soon after Fae¡¯s tirade. Bliss knelt over me. She was covered in soot, grime, and blood, and I had to assume the blood was hers. Her already-limited clothing had been ripped to shreds. But she was alive and on her feet, and able to dig me out, which was more than I was up to. She then lifted a block of the building off my chest, after which I loosed a groan, which made her plant a hand over my mouth hard enough that I was able to taste her own blood as it fell from between her fingers. She put a finger to her lips with her other hand and shook her head. I nodded in pained understanding. I then looked past her and nodded forward. We were about to have company. She left to greet them while I continued trying to dig myself out.


    I made good progress at first, but I was eventually paralyzed in place. Not physically so, and not out of fear, but in awe, because I witnessed something I could not comprehend. I witnessed Bliss Carmichael, or Iblis Kyle, or whoever she really was, fight for what was surely the first time in my service. And it was impossible to wrap one¡¯s head around, especially if you were me¡ªI had found myself awed by the mastery of combat the likes of Silas Hager, Lucene Flint, or even Zha Trantos possessed. But I saw then, atop the rubble of the blown-out Arbites station, that none of them even held a candle to Bliss, and if not for my mind, neither would I.


    A trio of soldiers fell upon her at first, and she dismantled them in a flurry as she often had. That was not surprising. But three became six as their reinforcements arrived, Fae¡¯s army recognizing the presence of my last defender. Six became twelve, and twelve became more. Bliss danced between and killed them all, a whirlwind of murder, every limb¡ªno, every joint¡ªbeing used to the fullest extent imaginable, and then some. Bliss fought a veritable horde of better armed and armored foes with such simultaneity that all her assailants quickly revealed they, too, had no idea what to do about her. She halted any and every infantry approach up the rubble, systematically dismantling Fae¡¯s forces in the process. And the most troubling thing to me was her fighting style, or, rather, styles. She fought like a Pyrran swordsman, as though trained by my hand itself. She fought like the Vostroyans of Sigird¡¯s homeworld. She fought as ruthless as a Cadian, she fought with the discipline of a Tempestus Scion, she fought with the rigid brutality of a Sister of Battle, or the precision of a Vindicare Assassin, or the wanton ferocity of an Eversor. And she wielded a dozen other arts I myself could not put words to. No single person should possess such a complete mastery of these things, it was utterly impossible to conceive of¡ªespecially so for where the fighting styles of the Assassinorum were concerned.


    Yet, Bliss wielded them all with ruthless efficiency, killing with maximized potency and boundless vigor. And all the while, she possessed a complete understanding of the battlefield at large. When the infantry fell back, realizing that numbers alone were not sufficient at besting my Agent, she dove for me and scooped me out of the remaining rubble I was trapped under. She briefly held me over her shoulders, as I had once carried Lucene from Abseradon after her duel with the Eversor. Bliss was slightly less gentle with me, though, and instead threw my back against a rubble outcropping, shielding me from the scene ahead. I did not blame her for my violent repositioning, as shortly thereafter, a trio of lascannons painted the building red in a brilliantly violent lightshow. Bliss huddled against my front in that position, and I shielded her in my arms, though I felt she did not need it.


    ¡°How¡¯s your head?¡± she yelled to me, needing to shout over the lascannons.


    ¡°Hurts!¡± I shouted back.


    ¡°Not what I was asking!¡± she grinned, and I understood.


    I reached out with my mind again and felt around. ¡°They¡¯ll overheat in eight seconds! You¡¯ll have five before they can fire again!¡±


    ¡°Can you cover me?¡±


    I nodded to her, no more time to waste in speaking, and willed a lasgun from one of the bodies Bliss had dropped moments ago. The millisecond the lascannons overheated, Bliss dove out from our cover, and I turned the corner around it as well, falling to my knees. I picked off what straggling infantry survived their first assault, while in the meantime Bliss ran forward like a Fenrisian Wolf, at a speed exceeding that which even Lucene could match. She raced forth, scaled and jumped over the frontal shielding of one of the lascannons, and tackled its crew beyond. I assumed she eviscerated them from there.


    ¡°Everything! Hit them with everything!¡± Fae shrieked over the building¡¯s failing vox, tossing strategy out the window. I did not blame her, as it did not seem conventional strategy would apply to the two of us. I heard mortar shells whistle through the air at once, and I saw the reflection of a faraway sunset bounce off a tank in the distance as it pulled up, but my attention turned to the two gunships that floated overhead. I did not have an answer to them, but I did not need one; the tank at the far end of the scene exploded into a titanic shockwave that knocked everyone to the ground, and one of the gunships erupted into a splattering fireball as the Bird sailed cleanly through it, Mirena providing her masterful piloting skills as ever. Then the mortars started to land.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    I rolled out from cover and down the sloped rubble into the jaws of the enemy while the Arbites complex behind me was pulverized from shelling not unlike the desperate fury Sigird and Espirov once wielded against me. But it had not worked then, and it was not going to work now. Though my pace was far from steady or orderly, I still knew how to carry myself like a soldier, and picked my way down the rubble, incinerating anyone that got in front of my lasgun. The second gunship had broken off, apparently deciding that service to Fae was not worth it in the presence of a Thunderhawk. I never saw it again¡ªperhaps Mirena gunned it down elsewhere.


    When I reached level ground, Bliss folded in in front of me, covered in more blood than I had last seen her wearing. This time, I do not think the new drenching was of hers. ¡°Am I holding you back?¡± I muttered to her.


    ¡°Never,¡± she assured me, after which a breeze blew by as Mirena made a strafing run on another tank. ¡°Can you run?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll catch up,¡± I replied. She nodded and took off again, devastating some unfortunate souls elsewhere. I trudged onward, with a singular purpose: destroy the heretic. I knew where she was; I could not feel her presence, but that void was itself telling. Absence of feeling was feeling all the same. And seventy meters to the north-northwest, I felt nothing at all. I stalked off in that direction, chaos and flames and bloodshed all around me. With no replacement orders given, the mortars continued shelling the lifeless husk of the Arbites complex, even though I had already left its rubble.


    She knew I was coming, and set a few final lines of defense in my way, but they were nothing a Commissar from Pyrras could not handle, much less a psychic one. When I had chewed through them, she called out to me, no longer needing vox to communicate with me. ¡°How damn hard is it to kill you, Blackgar?¡± she shouted as I crested the top of the exit ramp she was hunkered down on, the ramp otherwise leading to the speedway we had taken. I found her a few meters away, covered in her foul augmetics, including a blade that emerged from the flesh of her right arm. She was standing in front of the smoldering corpse of the tank Mirena had pancaked with the Bird. ¡°I¡¯m really interested in figuring that out.¡±


    ¡°Come and see, then,¡± I growled, then opened fire upon her with my lasgun. I expected it to be as ineffectual as it was, but every little bit might help, and I at least singed some flesh here and there with it before needing to toss it aside as she approached. I ducked under a slash of her blade and caught her left arm against both of mine before smacking my augmetic fist into the side of her head, jabbing her away. She then stabbed her blade forward, and I had to catch it through my own augmetic arm, twisting the punctured appendage away to keep her from impaling me. I then headbutted her as the rotational motion of my augmetic lured her in, dazing us both.


    She dislodged her blade from my augmetic and slashed again, and again I ducked under the attack, though this time I simply tackled her to the ground and wailed at her head. She put a foot on my gut and launched me off her with ease, but when I landed I aimed my crippled augmetic her way and sprayed her in a shower of lead. I may have only had one Bolter round in the arm, but I had a magazine¡¯s worth of autogun ammunition in it too. ¡°Enough toys!¡± she shrieked through the autogun fire, clearly not amused nor impaired by such weaponry, and rose to her feet as soon as I ran out of ammo. I started to do the same, but instead Bliss jumped over me and engaged the Phaenonite herself. Shortly after landing from her leap, Bliss kicked my lasgun back to me and, again, I understood, she and I operating with impeccable harmony.


    I spun around, recognizing that even Bliss could not have killed off everyone so soon, and took aim at those that had tailed her this way. After making six kills, a great wall of iron landed in front of me, Mirena shielding me from the small arms fire beyond the hull of the Bird. I turned to re-engage the Phaenonite, finding Bliss having launched Fae into the air. Fae did not then seem to mind, and likely was preparing something vile for my Agent for when her feet touched the ground, but that never happened. Instead, a partially-broken augmetic hand clamped around the back of her head and pulled her out of the air to me, after which my hand rushed down into the ground at my feet, shattering both the ground and the skull in my grasp. Fae twitched for a few moments, but that was all she had left. The day, it seemed, was won.


    Bliss smiled for a moment, until I looked at her. And then she knew, and her smile faded. She saw the fear of the unknown in my eyes, the fear of her. She had gone too far and shown her hand. She may have done it to protect me, but that was no excuse. She knew what she could not. She knew more than any single human could, to my understanding. More than all of that, even, was the sheer realization and contextualization of it all. She was perfect in every way, which made her completely wrong. She was perfectly loyal, to me and to the Imperium. She was perfectly beautiful. Perfectly intelligent. Perfectly funny. A perfect fighter. The absolute perfect operative. Flawless in every regard, which was the ultimate flaw. And she knew I knew. She nodded to me and took a deep breath, then simply asked, ¡°Want a hand carrying her aboard?¡±


    I nodded, weary and wary, and muttered, ¡°Yeah. Thank you, Bliss.¡±


    ¡°Things will change now, huh?¡±


    ¡°They will,¡± I nodded again.


    ¡°I understand. You¡¯ll make the right decision, Callant. You and I know that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what worries me.¡±

 Chapter 52 - Break Down

    Fae was still unconscious when the Bird took off. We strapped her to the seats across from us, though I was more inclined to let her bounce around on the floor. The seat buckles, however, would serve as restraints sufficient enough to keep even a Phaenonite at bay. Mirena told me the Coldbreed had been secured, but realized pretty quickly that something was wrong between Bliss and I, probably due to the fact that I simply nodded her good news off without emotion. I may have still been shellshocked, yes, but Mirena rightly recognized that there was more to the situation than that. Not one to pry, she instead returned to the pilot¡¯s cabin, and prepared for takeoff. Bliss and I sat next to each other, side by side, still covered in blood and grime.


    We said nothing for a time, and then, shortly after we went airborne, I felt like I had to try to figure her out. I dug into her head as hard as I could, which given the state of things, was not very intensely. But it was hard enough to make her wince. She did not resist me, I could feel that, but even so there was nothing for me to find that would allude to how she knew what she knew. In fact, I could not even find that knowledge. When I stopped digging around in her head, she and I simultaneously groaned in agony, and gathered our breath. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± she panted, a weak grin on her face.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I grunted.


    ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°You know what I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± she nodded. ¡°They¡¯re pretty good at concealing it all.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s they?¡± I asked. She shook her head, then pointed toward Fae.


    ¡°Not them, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re concerned about,¡± she replied. I could at least tell that that was true. She was not with the Phaenonites.


    ¡°I had been. Now I think I should be more worried,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you, Callant. And I won¡¯t jeopardize your mission,¡± she assured me.


    ¡°I know that.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°I do. But I don¡¯t know that you¡¯re not a heretic of a different breed all the same. I don¡¯t know what you are. What are you?¡± I asked, finally looking her in the face for the first time since we had sat in the Bird.


    She shook her head again. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that, Callant, I¡¯m sorry.¡± A tear then rolled down her face. ¡°Jack doesn¡¯t know about me either.¡±


    ¡°I know. You¡¯re a mystery to us all. I won¡¯t interrogate him again,¡± I promised her.


    ¡°Thank you, Callant,¡± she smiled.


    ¡°Just tell me this, Bliss¡ªto whom are you most loyal?¡±


    ¡°Our Beloved God Emperor,¡± she replied at once. I sensed she felt that was true. But as I had once discussed with Thaddeus Scayn and Hans Okustin, long ago, many heretics might feel likewise about themselves. Surety was no shield from heresy.


    ¡°Throne, just shoot me,¡± Fae drawled from across the bay.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to. Later,¡± I growled back. I then tapped the vox on a jacket Mirena had given me. ¡°ETA to landing?¡±


    ¡°Worried?¡± Fae smirked.


    ¡°Forty-five seconds,¡± Mirena replied over the vox.


    ¡°Not about you,¡± I told Fae. ¡°Whatever this one is, she¡¯s already kicked your ass once. I¡¯m sure she could do so again,¡± I offered, tapping my shoulder to Bliss¡¯s, who grinned.


    ¡°You both should come down to Amnes Minoris, see how that goes,¡± Fae offered. ¡°There¡¯s someone waiting for you there, you know.¡±


    ¡°And who might that be?¡± I asked.


    ¡°An old friend. Go and see,¡± she suggested, falling into a deranged cackling. She proved useless from there on, and Bliss was not doing much talking either. I, therefore, just sat and waited for us to land on Coldbreed at last.


    When we did land, I voxxed my latest curiosity to Mirena. ¡°Hey, Law, how¡¯d you find us, anyway? Vox should¡¯ve been jammed.¡±


    ¡°Aimed for the biggest warzone. Figured you were there,¡± she replied while stepping out of the cockpit, not using her vox. ¡°It¡¯s a pretty safe bet with you, Cal,¡± she winked to me. ¡°What are we doing with that one?¡± she asked, gesturing to Fae. I thought for a moment, then stood to my feet and willed my Boltpistol to myself as I walked toward Fae, happy to have it back in my grip at last. I leveled it between Fae¡¯s eyes, but when she grinned for that, I instead lowered my aim and shot off each of her hands, then willed psykematic flames to cauterize the wounds so she would not bleed out. She did pass out, though, from the pain, which was fine by me.


    ¡°That,¡± I replied to Mirena. ¡°Lower the bay door.¡± Mirena nodded to me while I began unstrapping Fae from the Bird¡¯s makeshift prison. When I had finished, I holstered my Boltpistol along my waist and hoisted Fae from her seat, leading her in front of me as she faded in and out of consciousness. Mirena, meanwhile, needed only make some slight gestures with her augmetic hand to remotely control the Bird, lowering the bay door without needing to return to the cockpit. When the Bird fully opened up, I tossed Fae out onto the floor of the landing bay of Coldbreed, where she hit the steel deck hard, surrounded by my retinue. My friends had survived, it seemed, which did not surprise me. But they looked how I felt.


    ¡°Nice of you to join us up here, Fae,¡± Heirene grunted, he himself on his knees, held at gunpoint by Lucene.


    Fae may not have been conscious enough to reply, but I was. ¡°My orders were clear,¡± I grumbled, and then shot my augmetic hand forward upon Heirene¡¯s face. He squealed for a moment, but only got that much out before I crushed his skull in my grasp. Lucene kicked his decapitated body over after I retracted my hand. ¡°Forgive the curtness. Not in the mood,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°We understand, sir. Do you need to see Castecael?¡± Silas asked me, covered in his usual heavy carapace armor.


    ¡°No, no, I¡­well, perhaps,¡± I groaned, holding my ribs and wincing. ¡°For now, Varnus, Flint, take her to whatever brigs may yet survive. You know the drill; strip her of her augmetics.¡± I then took a seat atop the doors of the Bird while Lucene and Varnus did as instructed. Mirena knelt next to me, but Bliss strolled away, setting foot on Coldbreed. She did not go far, though. When Lucene and Varnus had left, I messaged much of my crew, +Weapons hot.+


    ¡°Sir?¡± Silas asked, powering up his Hot-Shot lasgun all the same.


    ¡°Sisters, assist Tactical-1 and Intel-1 with apprehending and detaining Stealth-1,¡± I spoke aloud. Confused glances were sent my way from all around, except for from Bliss.


    ¡°Uh, Stealth-1, sir?¡± Zha asked, stepping up with her autopistol at the ready. I tapped my head toward Bliss. ¡°Oh. Frig.¡±


    There was, for once, hesitation, even from Silas, but he did as instructed, flanked by the Sisters in the room, and eventually joined by Zha. Bliss, meanwhile, tilted her head back to me and sighed. ¡°You and I know they can¡¯t stop me if I try to resist,¡± she warned me.


    ¡°As you said, gotta make do with what we¡¯ve got,¡± I replied.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on, Mr. Blackgar?¡± Zha asked, autopistol raised¡ªalbeit hesitantly¡ªtoward Bliss.


    ¡°Stealth-1 did the impossible,¡± I grunted, rising to my feet while aided by Mirena.


    ¡°I saved his life,¡± Bliss corrected.


    ¡°As I said,¡± I agreed. ¡°Bliss Carmichael did something no other human should have been able to do, to my knowledge. She will tell me how, or she will remain detained indefinitely. If any of you were down there in place of her, I would be a dead man, so treat her with respect all the same. But right now she¡¯s the most dangerous person on the ship; more so, even, than our Phaenonite prisoner. Wherever you put her, I want armed guards on her post in perpetuity. No one speaks to her but me. And keep Harr away from her. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Silas nodded, beginning to approach Bliss. Bliss turned her gaze to him, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Silas froze in place. A man that had seen nearly everything I had and shot most of it to death was all but petrified from her glare. That was, however, until she nodded and chuckled to herself, then fell to her knees and folded her hands against the back of her head. She did not resist detainment, though I did see another tear roll out of crimson eyes.


    ¡°Bliss,¡± I called to the group as they began to leave. They stopped and let her turn to me. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Just doing my job, Callant,¡± she replied, loosing another tear. I then nodded to Silas, and the group returned to escorting her to incarceration.


    ¡°What is she?¡± Mirena asked me when we were alone.


    ¡°If I knew that, I might not need to make her our prisoner,¡± I answered. ¡°Can you help me to Castecael, Mirena?¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°My pleasure, Cal,¡± she agreed, and helped me walk off the Bird.


    ***


    Before doing anything else the following day, I submitted a report to Quintus. It had been a while since I had done so, and after Skardak¡¯s Reach and Aerialon, word of my activity would likely reach Inquisitive ears. Better Lord van der Skar hear of my activity from me than from someone else. With my report submitted, other administrivia could begin.


    I felt obliged to help sort things out with Aerialon. They would have some rebuilding to do on their own, but I at least provided some context for things and set the record straight. I did not explain to them who or what Fae was¡ªthe public could not know that Inquisitors could go rogue and betray the Imperium. So to Aerialon, Fae was just another heretic, albeit a resourceful one, and I had destroyed her operation and captured her. As always, hiding the truth in lies. If nothing else, Aerialon and I were also able to work together to eliminate much of their criminal underworld and tackle a money laundering issue with one of their banks. Not worth the loss of life Fae had cost us both, but it was something.


    I recalled the full fleet of vessels I had inherited from Sigird after the incident on Hestia Majoris. I needed their efforts and resources to repair and restaff my own, which was regrettable. We had gathered once over Skardak¡¯s Reach, which already upended many existing operations. Gathering again signified to many that such operations may need to wind down altogether. The endgame of our battle against the Phaenonite cell was fast approaching and I did not want to leave any of my extended retinue out in the cold, so to speak, should we face retaliation.


    Interrogations of Fae gave me very little, even after some very extensive attempts. According to her, I ¡°knew all [I] needed to,¡± and that I was due to head to Amnes Minoris. According to her, there were few other leads for me to chase. For weeks, I got nowhere with her. Eventually, with the understanding that she remained as significant threat to my crew as other, now-deceased but once-escaped Phaenonites had been, I simply chose to kill her outright. I could not risk her survival for much longer, and with no idea when I may hear from Quintus, or whether they could provide secure transport for her, I decided to end things then and there. I stand by that decision.


    Bliss also gave me little to go on, but she was at least infinitely more friendly than the Phaenonite about it. She was happy to see me make my recovery, as I was of hers. She understood my position and did not complain about it. I warned her that as much as I may not have wanted to, I could try to extract info from her violently, physically and psychically so. She understood, but still gave nothing up, though I never brought myself to hurt her. If anything, I made sure she was comfortable, giving her the same level of care in her Inquisitorial prison as I once ensured was provided for Mirena. But under no circumstances did I allow her to make contact with anyone other than myself, and much to his complaint, Jack Harr was not even allowed in the same prison block as her. Yet, again, I got nothing out of Bliss. Whoever and whatever she was, she was good, perhaps one of the best of her kind in the Imperium. But I still had no idea what that kind may have been.


    I was surrounded by unknowns, as I once had been on Hestia Majoris, searching for Scayn¡¯s murderers. Killing Fae was a strategic mistake, I knew, but a logistical security that even then I did not regret. Alas, there seemed only one viable course of action to proceed against the Phaenonites, as they had repeatedly taunted me to pursue. Amnes Minoris. I knew what awaited me there, the name of the vile thing that had slain Gradshi¡¯s Coraline. I knew I should be afraid of it. I knew it could kill me. How the Phaenonites had acquired one, it mattered not.


    But they had a Maletek Stalker, and I did not have an answer for it.


    ***


    I was in Coldbreed¡¯s mess hall some time later when an answer to the Amnes Minoris problem may have revealed itself. At the time, I was having brunch with Mirena and Gallius Anwar, one of the two House Trion Crusaders that had fallen into my ranks as personal bodyguards, the other being Lanto Sven, who was not then present. In many ways, Anwar reminded me of my former Interrogator, Hans Okustin, and unfortunately also of a rival Inquisitor. The trio were dogmatic and uncompromising, and each were built like a Battle Tank but still possessed brilliant heads on their shoulders¡ªthough Massino Varnus once called my rival ¡®dimwitted.¡¯ I respected each of the three greatly; Okustin had proven himself magnificent time and again, my rival was ruthlessly capable in his own right, and Anwar was executing his role flawlessly. Quite literally so, in fact, as I understood Anwar had been the one to land the killing blow on the Phaenonite Prareus.


    And not unlike Okustin, Anwar often got on Mirena¡¯s nerves, but she appreciated him all the same. Being very literally a blade of the Ecclesiarchy, Anwar¡¯s dogma often clashed with Mirena¡¯s disinterest. I do not know what he felt of her, but I did feel it was best to err on the side of caution and maintain a presence between them, lest they break out into fisticuffs over the right time of day to inebriate. However, it was during such a headache-inducing debate that my attention was wrestled aside by an interruption by Massino Varnus. ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± Varnus called for me from behind my seat, monotone voice striking through the emotional tumult between Anwar and Mirena.


    I rose and turned to face Varnus as the argument simmered behind me. ¡°Techsorcist Varnus, may I provide assistance to you in some way?¡± A convoluted phrasing of the question, my vernacular having adapted to conversing with the Agents of the Mechanicum, lest I incur¡ªfrom my perspective¡ªneedless notice of grammatical infractions.


    ¡°This unit could do with the requisitioning of another properly-sanctified fusion engine, but that is not why I bring audience to you now,¡± Varnus replied. ¡°Instead, we have brought on anomalous cargo from planet IX4423¡ªAerialon, by local designation¡ªand its owner wishes to speak with you, Inquisitor.¡±


    I paused for a moment and blinked twice. ¡°Forgive me, Techsorcist, but I do not recall authorizing this combat vessel for cargo transport,¡± I said dryly.


    ¡°Our agreement was for me to oversee the acquisition of arms sufficient for the complete destruction of the enemy,¡± Varnus suggested. ¡°As pertains to that agreement, I have found arms sufficient for the complete destruction of the enemy. Need we reconfront our arrangement?¡± he asked. It sounded confrontational, but I knew better of Varnus; the Techsorcist had little interest in abandoning my efforts to eradicate the Phaenonites.


    ¡°No, Varnus, our arrangement stands; my apologies for my misunderstanding. How many arms are we talking about, in tonnage?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°One unit, approximately 288.6 tons,¡± Varnus replied, and my eyes widened. So, too, did the eyes of Mirena and Anwar behind me, for such an extreme weight of weapons would have armed everyone in my staff as though they were a Sister of Battle and had tons still to spare. But one unit?


    ¡°By the Throne, what is the nature of this cargo you¡¯ve found, Varnus?¡±


    ¡°Its owner claims you will understand when you see him. Shall I invite him to this discussion?¡± Varnus asked in reply.


    ¡°Please do,¡± I nodded. A clicking noise then came from the mechatronics comprising Varnus¡¯s form, though he did not otherwise move. That was until, however, Varnus stepped aside to gesture toward the entry of an old ally of mine that I had not seen since my time in the Guard. ¡°Caradred?¡± I asked, bewildered.


    ¡°Blackgar!¡± Otto Caradred shouted in reply, striding into the mess hall with a grin on his face, extending an arm to shake one of mine, though we fell into a brief, one-armed hug in our reunion. One of Otto¡¯s arms was holding a black and gold helmet between his hip and his palm. He himself was likewise clad in black and gold armor as befitting of a noble of House Caradred.


    ¡°Caradred?¡± Anwar repeated, less bewildered than I was, and instead more curious. Anwar rose to his feet to greet Otto, but Mirena remained seated.


    ¡°Right, Otto Caradred of House Caradred, Gallius Anwar, House Trion, and Mirena Law,¡± I introduced my old friend to the new crew.


    ¡°House Blackgar,¡± Mirena smiled coyly, earning a laugh from Otto and a disapproving glare from Anwar.


    ¡°I do hope Trion and Caradred are on good terms,¡± I muttered uneasily.


    ¡°Of course!¡± Otto laughed again, but looked a hair away from offended at the implication that the otherwise would even be possible.


    ¡°Trion is not displeased to be in the presence of Caradred,¡± Anwar confirmed. Phew.


    ¡°Am I to understand that our new cargo is¡­,¡± I started, drawling on and glancing with slight unease toward Varnus.


    ¡°You are, Blackgar, yes,¡± Otto nodded, as did Varnus.


    ¡°You should have asked first.¡±


    ¡°You should have stayed a Commissar,¡± Otto shot back, laughing again. ¡°Inquisition? Really? How did that happen?¡±


    ¡°Over a great deal of death and destruction,¡± I replied sourly.


    ¡°You two knew each other from the Guard?¡± Mirena inferred.


    Otto nodded. ¡°Blackgar and I go way back! He¡¯s the bravest and most ruthless son of a bitch I know, and there¡¯s a lot in line, trust me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware,¡± Mirena agreed. ¡°But you don¡¯t look the part of a Guardsman.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not, he¡¯s¡­something of a pilot, though less literally so than yourself,¡± I explained. ¡°And we just acquired his vessel.¡±


    ¡°Ah, and what do you fly?¡± Otto asked Mirena.


    ¡°Whatever he asks me to, which as of late has been vessels far bulkier and slower than I would like,¡± she smiled, ever reminding me of her desire for a faster fightercraft of her own. ¡°Yourself?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t so much fly as¡­err¡­engage with the God-Emperor more closely than this frail body of mine would otherwise allow,¡± Otto explained. Contrary to his claim, and not unlike Anwar, Otto was anything but frail. He was, like Anwar, a ceramite tower of a man, looming over myself by a few inches and possessing a far more imposing frame, yet¡ªfor being from Pyrras-3 like myself¡ªas pale as I was. But relative to what he piloted, he was not wrong that he may as well have been a blade of grass in a warzone. ¡°Blackgar, before the utterance of my former House continues, I must clarify: I am a Freeblade now. I trust you understand what that means.¡±


    ¡°It means Pyrras has lost a great defender,¡± I understood. ¡°And that you are on a path of your own making.¡± Otto nodded.


    ¡°I have taken the name of Galen for myself. No surname. I would appreciate if you would refer to me as such, rather than relating me to Caradred,¡± he explained. I agreed to his request. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Well, Galen, that explains what brought you to Aerialon. But what brings you to my ship?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°I was playing ball with an off duty Arbites when I overheard the call that had gone out from a Callant Blackgar telling him to stay away from his district. It didn¡¯t sound like you, though. And when the city exploded into a warzone, I figured the real you had to be close by somewhere, so I wanted to check things out and probe around for an old friend. Ran into our AdMech buddy in the process of scanning the Noosphere through the Throne,¡± Galen answered. Varnus nodded in agreement.


    ¡°That¡¯s how you got here, but not why you¡¯re here,¡± I furthered.


    ¡°The procurement of arms sufficient for the complete destruction of the enemy,¡± Varnus repeated once more.


    I looked to him, then to Galen, and back to Varnus. ¡°Have you told him what we¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°I have not informed the Blessed Thronewielder of mission parameters, no,¡± Varnus answered.


    ¡°But I can¡¯t imagine you aren¡¯t killing shit that needs killing,¡± Galen suggested. ¡°To do otherwise would be unlike you, Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°And you want in, Freeblade?¡±


    ¡°If you have use for me,¡± he shrugged.


    ¡°As an Inquisition operative, I¡¯d need to both interrogate you first¡ªcall it catching up¡ªand have you don heraldry of the ordos,¡± I warned him.


    ¡°So, what, I¡¯d lose the gold and keep the black?¡± he asked, pulling his helmet between us. ¡°Might look better, even.¡±


    ¡°Alright, Galen, tell you what: if you¡¯re in, you¡¯re in. Assuming I find nothing uncouth in interrogation, I could have suitable use for you as a heavy hitter, codename Throne-1. Here in my court, we¡¯re hunting and killing heretics. So, are you in?¡±


    ¡°Can you promise me a worthy battle that would require my services to achieve victory?¡± Galen asked. I nodded. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡± And with that, and with half the Coldbreed in the cargo bay staring at the gigantic goliath of metal we had just added to our roster, I had found an answer to my Amnes Minoris problem. Now the hard part: keep it under wraps until I was ready to assault the Phaenonite world at last.


    Grateful, I turned to Varnus and added, ¡°I¡¯ll see about that fusion engine.¡±


    ¡°Refer to your savant-Inquisitor for proper specifications,¡± he replied with a welcoming nod. ¡°She has a satisfactory comprehension of this vessel¡¯s operational requirements.¡±

 Chapter 53 - Ambush

    Even for the Inquisition, keeping things a secret from our enemies in perpetuity is an understood impossibility. It is not one we are happy about or accepting of, but we recognize it as an inevitability that necessitates swift action and judgment. For that reason, I wanted to hurry on my approach to Amnes Minoris and deploy my newfound ally against the Phaenonite scum who lurked there before they could know or prepare for him. Alas, such an impatient desire could not be realized with any realistic approach of strategy, for the Coldbreed still needed repairs from the attempted mutiny. And as much as I had been concerned with the Phaenonites¡¯ weapons on the ground, I also needed to consider that they likely had some voidfaring vessels of their own; after all, they had been transporting troops from the reaches of Calixis all throughout Ixaniad.


    Unfortunately, all this waiting left me vulnerable to an ambush I had anticipated would arrive but was unprepared for all the same. We had no weapons to fight against this ambush, and no shields could defend us. Resistance was futile. After all, the ambush came in the form of a matching fleet of Inquisitorial vessels over Aerialon, and when the Coldbreed was hailed to announce the presence of Lord Inquisitor Caliman, my dreaded rival, I was obliged, even if reluctantly so, to comply with his request to dock alongside my ship.


    Prior to his arrival I had expected some response from Quintus following my report about Aerialon and Skardak¡¯s Reach. I did expect another Inquisitor to request a meeting with me for discussion about my activities. I did not expect Caliman himself, but once he had arrived I told my crew to begin preparing safe passage for him through Coldbreed to our war room. I knew Caliman would not come alone and that I should not meet him on my own either. I expected him to flaunt some measure of force with his presence and that I ought to reciprocate for the sake of my own self-preservation; if Caliman thought my forces too weak and too reckless with their activity as of late, he may decide to try to do me in, painting me as a rogue Inquisitor.


    Inquisitorial politics were such dreadful fun.


    For the purposes of flaunting my own might, I requested the presence of my original, surviving retinue from Hestia Majoris, as they were my most capable and most trusted¡ªbonus that they were also the most hateful of Caliman. I also requested Varnus and Galen be present for our meeting with Caliman, as I knew them to be loyal to me second only to the Emperor Himself, as with my original retinue. Likewise, I had a handful of Sisters under Lucene¡¯s command join us as well. In the meantime, from Caliman¡¯s shuttle in the landing bay to the war room, I had my two Crusaders escort the Lord Inquisitor and his own retinue to us.


    ¡°Lord Inquisitor Igan Caliman, Ordo Hereticus,¡± Lanto Sven, the second of my Crusaders, introduced my rival while leading him into the war room, joined by Gallius Anwar. I felt Mirena¡¯s augmetic right hand slip into my augmetic left as our guests arrived, she possessing a particular hatred for Caliman. Upon his entry, it was not Caliman himself that made my eyes widen a twitch, nor Inquisitors Emile Al-Amar or Corvin Hythe. Rather, the trio of gigantic, red, ceramite hulks that marched behind them, followed by serfs of their own. The Sisters at my back, save for Lucene, all knelt before the Emperor¡¯s Angels, as did Massino Varnus, and Galen released an uneasy grunt. At that, I spied the slightest, smuggest grin form on Caliman¡¯s lips, the rest of his head shrouded behind a comparable helmet to my own, he possessing power armor like myself.


    ¡°Joined by Brother Santinus Astal, Sergeant, Red Hunters 3<sup>rd</sup> Company, 2<sup>nd</sup> Tactical Squad,¡± Caliman added. The three crimson Astartes surveyed the war room briefly, then gave us a gentle nod that sufficed for a greeting bow. ¡°Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°Caliman.¡±


    ¡°This is a familiar crew,¡± he noted.


    ¡°In that you advocated for their sentencing and sanctioning?¡± I offered.


    He grinned. ¡°Quite.¡±


    Emile Al-Amar had been glancing around the room a bit, then piped up, ¡°You are missing someone, Blackgar. And who is he?¡± she asked, pointing to Galen.


    ¡°New recruit. Who am I missing, Al-Amar?¡± I returned.


    ¡°He can be trusted?¡±


    ¡°More than others in this room,¡± I growled. ¡°Who am I missing?¡±


    ¡°We are familiar with your organizational structure. All operations heads are present, save for two: your Comms officer, stationed on Quintus and accounted for. But where is your Covert officer?¡± she asked.


    I paused for a moment. Not so long as to interrupt the flow of the conversation, but long enough for the Inquisitors in the room to note the oddity. ¡°Bliss Carmichael is busy,¡± I replied with minor hesitation.


    ¡°Too busy for this?¡± Corvin Hythe asked.


    ¡°Frankly, Hythe, I know not what this is,¡± I shrugged, then looked to Caliman. ¡°Here for an autograph?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°One day, perhaps, on a Confession of Guilt form,¡± Caliman smiled. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of buzz, Blackgar. You¡¯re causing a lot of noise for someone who¡¯s meant to be deceased.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking it may be time to come back to life. Death has proven inconvenient for me and my Agents as of late,¡± I nodded in agreement.


    ¡°It may be time for that, yes, but that would be a conversation you would need to have with Lord van der Skar,¡± Caliman shrugged. ¡°You captured a Phaenonite on Aerialon and executed those you had taken prior, am I correct?¡±


    ¡°I have also executed the Aerialon captive. I did not know when I would hear from Quintus and I could not risk her causing a second mutiny in the immediate wake of the first,¡± I explained.


    Caliman sighed and nodded. ¡°Unfortunate, but understandable. We will discuss the merits of that decision later, then, but for now we must make do. Have you further leads to chase?¡±


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    ¡°Only one.¡±


    ¡°Amnes Minoris,¡± Caliman suggested, and I nodded. ¡°I thought as much. What intel do you have of the world?¡±


    ¡°None that I have not shared with you already, save for what the Phaenonites intend to kill me with,¡± I explained.


    ¡°And what is that?¡±


    I paused for a moment, glancing to my allies, knowing both that they should not know of the name of the beast, but that they may be forced to face it all the same. No single man is worth the Imperium, I thought to myself, then sighed. I looked back to Caliman. ¡°They have a Maletek Stalker, as confirmed for me by Massino Varnus,¡± I replied, gesturing to my Techsorcist. Varnus nodded, offering further confirmation.


    Caliman was impressed by that information, but he only evidenced as such with his words in response; his physical demeanor remained rock-solid as ever. ¡°That complicates things, then,¡± he acknowledged, then glanced to Brother Santinus behind him. ¡°At ease for now, Sergeant. Your services will be required planetside soon.¡±


    ¡°You intend to assault Amnes Minoris directly?¡± I asked, ignoring the fact that Caliman had just ordered the Astartes to ease. That implied that until then, they may have been present for more than just intimidation purposes, and that Caliman may have been ready to use them to subjugate my crew. My retinue were capable of much, but felling three Astartes in proper power armor was not a task they could handle, if even they would resist in the first place.


    ¡°With you, yes,¡± Caliman confirmed. ¡°It is your operation, Blackgar. I won¡¯t get in the way. Perhaps with two fronts we may overwhelm and overtake the Phaenonite, despite the horror they wield,¡± he offered. ¡°This is your war room, yes? We should begin strategizing.¡±


    I paused again, this time not out of discomfort, but rather surprise. I had not taken Caliman to be so much of a team player, especially not so with a psyker like myself or as occupied my immediate retinue. But if he¡ªand his Astartes¡ªwere willing to assist me with an assault on Amnes Minoris, I would not turn my nose up at such an offer. It was, therefore, that I had misjudged him. I had thought Caliman to be a hardline, monodominant problem solver, but in reality he was more willing to fish for allies if he believed they could be of genuine use to a worthy cause.


    Sure, there were possibilities of other, nefarious, ulterior motives. Perhaps Caliman intended to use us as meatshields, or perhaps he wanted to share in the glory of exterminating traitors of our ordos, or perhaps he wanted to keep a closer watch over my activity. Perhaps it was, in some part, all of these things. But whatever his motives may have been, I knew that at a high level, Caliman was an ally, at least in this fight.


    Even so, he did not win much favor with the more veteran members of my crew.


    ***


    Caliman and I spent many long days in the war room thereafter. I cannot say I enjoyed his company, but as ever, I respected him during the time. He revealed a capacity for strategy that surprised me, not because it was unexpected, but simply because he had never shown such a mindset to me before. We wargamed multiple different scenarios, both in orbit and on the ground. The question of ¡®If you were them, what would you do?¡¯ was, after mutual reluctance, asked and answered. Caliman and I arrived at the unfortunate conclusion that the Phaenonites likely hid some warships somewhere in the Amnes system, to be unleashed only when initial bombardment/deployment unto Amnes Minoris had begun. They would wait for us to overextend before attempting to cut us out from behind, and if we hunted through the system for them, they could just as easily run and return at an astropathic notice.


    Point being, we believed simultaneous orbital and continental combat was inevitable. That would inhibit our ability to carry out orbital strikes beyond what unknown planetary defenses may accomplish in that regard, too. There were too many unknowns¡ªThrone, we did not even know what terrain to expect in a surface engagement. Imperial zealotry assured us that with faith and fire we would win out against the heretic, but the ¡®how¡¯ was not immediately clear. There was temptation to set the Red Hunters upon the surface of Amnes Minoris in a quasi-scouting operation, but a Maletek Stalker would have threatened even them, and we knew not what else to expect from the Phaenonites. We also discussed baiting the Stalker forth with my own presence, but that ran into similar issues.


    Caliman and I were not alone in this strategizing. We referred to the best of our own retinues as needed. It was during a meeting in which my closer council, of Lucene and Varnus, were joined by Galen¡ªwho I wanted the presence of if only because he and I had once served together¡ªwhen understanding of the most manageable, but nevertheless unfortunate approach dawned on me. Caliman was poring over centuries-old maps of Amnes Minoris while I was gathering my wits in a seat across the table from him. Galen accompanied Caliman in looking over the old maps, which Lucene stood ever by my side, silent as stone except when called upon to act or answer. Varnus, meanwhile, was ever fidgeting with and re-sanctifying some piece of benevolent technology in the room, even during times in which we were asking him questions. He would answer promptly, but rarely to our face.


    ¡°You mentioned two fronts,¡± I muttered, my hands folded between each other in front of my mouth. I think only Lucene heard me, as the others continued as they were while her head pivoted down to look at me. ¡°Caliman.¡± He grunted in reply, eyes turning up toward me but face still pointed down at a map. ¡°You mentioned two fronts. We¡¯ve assumed that meant land and void. What if we had two land fronts, of near-arbitrary origin, in addition to the void theatre?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d be splitting thin, then, you know this, Blackgar,¡± Caliman replied, finally giving me the time of day and looking up from his charts. ¡°But since you know that much, I assume there¡¯s more to your reasoning?¡±


    ¡°Our enemy intends to lure us into disarray. What if we match them in kind? Bait the Stalker out, yes, but use our Astartes elsewhere altogether? They are shock troops, after all. Let them shock,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Viable. But how do you intend to survive the Stalker, if and when they sic it upon you?¡± Caliman returned.


    I nodded slowly, not wholly pleased with my response, but committing to it anyways. ¡°The intent is all that matters. Survival may not. I am willing to lose life to win war, but even in so bleak a scenario, my Agents may yet suffice to help me stay astride the abyss,¡± I answered, glaring at Galen. He, too, nodded slowly, after which I rose to my feet. Lucene, then, placed a hand on my shoulder, speaking volumes of her dissent without a single word. ¡°No single man is worth the Imperium,¡± I quoted for Caliman. ¡°I will stare down doom, if you think it can buy you and your Hunters time enough to end the Phaenonite.¡±


    ¡°Your record is impressive enough, Blackgar, that I imagine the Hunters will make do with your time,¡± Caliman nodded. ¡°You¡¯re sure about this? We could consider some other options still.¡±


    ¡°I am not. And there may be better alternatives. But every day we waste preparing for the unknown gives our foe undue time to worsen what we may face. No war was ever won in unending hesitance,¡± I replied.


    ¡°But some have been lost in eager enthusiasm,¡± Caliman noted. ¡°I¡¯ll notify the fleet to prepare for warp translation. You¡¯re a brave bastard, Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°Cal, I do not like this plan,¡± Lucene at last verbalized.


    ¡°You¡¯ll hate my next one more, then,¡± I sighed. ¡°Wait, Caliman, on recommending translation. If disarray is the weapon we intend to wield against the foe, we can build more still from confusion. And I have an idea in that regard, too. But it will require some coordination and creativity from our dear Techsorcist, Varnus,¡± I explained, looking to my colleague. As ever, he did not look back, nor did he make any noise that suggested acknowledgement.


    In any event, in describing my worst idea to the gang, Lucene at last felt compelled to take her helmet off to explain to me, loudly, and with some Ecclesiastical expletives, why she felt I was being an idiot. I cannot say I disagreed.


    But my worst idea may have been our best plan.

 Chapter 54 - Return

    Walking the streets of Amnes Minoris was not easy, and not because there were people shooting at me. Rather, the streets were filled with running water, constantly so, about ankle-deep. Not unlike Hestia Majoris, there was a lot of rain and a lot of water on the surface of the world. Unlike Hestia Majoris, both were natural, whereas Hestia Majoris had artificially forced rainfall for sanitization purposes. It just seemed to rain endlessly, naturally, on Amnes Minoris. I wondered if the water coverage was in some way a requirement for the Phaenonites¡¯ operation, or if they just chose this world for some other reason, or by happenstance altogether.


    There was some wind. Not enough to tip me over or hamper my movement, but enough to be annoying and whip water into my face. And beyond merely obscuring my vision through a watery lens, the wind did have a further effect on my vision of the planet¡¯s scenery as much of the developing civilization was illuminated by simple candlelight, which flickered and shook at the slightest breeze. Amnes Minoris, I found, was dark, dreary, and touched by an eerie and tiring mood that seemed to suck the very heart from its denizens. Denizens which, notably, graced me with uneasy side-eyes and bated breaths as I ventured through their ramshackle city of sodden wood after having emerged from a very out-of-place spaceport. A reminder, then, that not all civilizations in the Imperium were as technologically adept as Holy Terra. I was, surely, as out of place as the craft upon which I had smuggled myself to the world.


    But there was more to the glances sent my way than the witnessing of the unknown. There was innate discomfort and animosity. The citizens did not know my name, but they did know I did not belong¡ªa feeling I was beginning to share when, at last, I was called for. ¡°Callant Blackgar,¡± barked an aged, male voice from my rear. I turned and looked the speaker over, the view of each other illuminated by a torch he was holding. His face possessed a yellow-white beard along its edges, save for his chin, and his pale brown eyes glimmered in the light of flame. The top of his head was shielded from the rain by a simple cap, water prattling upon and pouring over its edges. He was portly, but of his attire I could make out little from behind a grey gabardine trench coat.


    He, in turn, had been looking me over. We were of a pair, each staring at each other and seeing something that was not quite right, yet not knowing why or how. I believe this man was a citizen of the world, perhaps of a smalltime militia, for while he harbored animosity toward me¡ªas all the now-shuttered-in citizenry had thus far¡ªI would not describe my psychic reading of his emotions as being indicative of malice.


    Which is not to say, however, that there was no malice present.


    I felt it then, if only because I was looking for it. Anger and hatred ebbing through the creaks and cracks of log houses unabated by wind or rain. It was close. It was watching me, psychically, as I was feeling for it likewise. It was not advancing on me, merely watching, waiting, studying. The doom of mortal men was content to sit and wait, for the time being.


    ¡°Callant Blackgar,¡± the man repeated, this time with more confidence. I nodded to him slowly. ¡°There is a warrant for your arrest.¡±


    ¡°I am sure there is, irony notwithstanding,¡± I agreed. ¡°Where do they want me?¡±


    The man paused, a slight bewilderment creeping over his face, but he shook it off, spraying more water everywhere in the process. ¡°They want you to put this on,¡± he replied, reaching into his trench coat and pulling out a black rag.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s drugged,¡± I offered.


    The bewilderment returned. ¡°You¡­came here willingly? Why? You do not belong,¡± the man noted, then pushed the rag toward me, insisting I take it from him. I did so, threw it over my head, and took one long, final breath in. The next thing I knew, the back of my head and the back of my trousers wettened considerably, and from there, I knew not.


    ***


    Why is he here? Alone? With no fleet?


    If we knew that we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation, would we?


    Something is very wrong about all of this. We should plug him while we have the chance and be done with this whole endeavor at last.


    I will not allow that. I have wanted him here for nine decades, and I will not lose his life so soon. I would savor it.


    Each of us have tried to savor his demise, and look where it¡¯s brought us!


    It¡¯s brought him here.


    Which is exactly her point! You, of all people, should recognize his capacity for violence and survival. You witnessed it first, after all.


    He will not survive this world¡ª


    And how often have we made that claim? Sigird made that claim and tossed a building and an Astartes at him, and all it cost the bastard was his arm!


    We have far more than an Astartes this time, so¡ª


    So we should use it, and kill the frigging Loyalist while we can.


    Sigird was not an Inquisitor. The Arbites of Aerialon were not Inquisitors. Never has Blackgar been in the grasp of one of our kind in this manner. He will not escape, he will not survive. And I will have my long-deserved vengeance. I don¡¯t doubt he thinks he¡¯s up to something by coming here alone. But whatever it is, frig him. There is nowhere else for him to run to, no one else to help him. The skin of his teeth will be flayed from the bastard¡¯s mouth at last.


    ***


    I awoke with a start, and in the process found myself strapped to an operating table not unlike those once installed in the Bird. I was laying with a slight incline, but was mostly kept flat with the ground. I was shirtless, but at least still possessed the padded pants I had brought with me to the surface. I frantically looked to my left and right, and in the process found I had been disarmed, in the literal sense. My augmetic was sitting on a counter a short distance away from me, leaving me with a mechanized stump of a shoulder.


    I could not see behind me, but I could hear silverware clattering against a dish. Someone was eating beyond my view. I reached out with my mind, and as ever with the Phaenonites, found it blocked. So I instead felt around with my final usable sense, and smelled grox and eggs. Breakfast. ¡°How¡¯s the taste?¡± I asked my nameless, faceless captor.


    ¡°Mmm. It¡¯s good, very good,¡± my captor, male, replied. ¡°Want a bite? You seem famished. Diet of corpse starch¡¯ll do that.¡±


    ¡°We serve better than corpse starch to Inquisitors,¡± I answered. ¡°And pass.¡±


    ¡°Ah, inequity,¡± my captor replied, reveling in the attributes of the Imperium with gleeful irony. ¡°One of the many things we would strive to solve, you know.¡±


    ¡°Do I know you? You sound familiar, but I can¡¯t place a name. And I was told a friend was waiting down here for me¡ªI assume that¡¯s you,¡± I suggested.


    My captor chuckled for a bit, breaking into a cough on his breakfast that he needed to wash down with a drink. ¡°Oh, I would not go so far as to call us friends, Blackgar. And yes, I had hoped you would remember me, that I would have left an impression on you. You certainly left an impression on me, in more ways than one,¡± my captor admitted with another laugh. He then cleared his throat and tidied up with his breakfast before rising to his feet and beginning to circle around me. ¡°Shame that Thaddeus is going to miss this reunion of ours, Blackgar. You really should¡¯ve listened to him way back when, though, and just left well enough alone,¡± said Foxon Silverman, Ordo Sicarius. The murderer of Thaddeus Scayn, my former mentor. A dead man.


    ¡°Y¡­you,¡± I gasped, feeling stunned and powerless in a way that I had not felt since the 8<sup>th</sup> had perished by my hands. Silverman could not help but laugh at my awe and distress. ¡°I killed you.¡±


    ¡°And Quintus said you¡¯re a dead man, too!¡± Silverman shot back, laughing still. ¡°Seems death doesn¡¯t work for either of us!¡±


    ¡°I turned you into a paste at the bottom of a crater, you can¡¯t be alive,¡± I protested.


    ¡°And yet,¡± Silverman chuckled, throwing his arms wide. ¡°Funny thing about death: you never really remember how it goes down, exactly. Yes, I¡¯ve read the cratering tale from your report to Quintus some years back. Worry not¡ªwe¡¯ll be less abrupt here!¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°What trick is this¡ªwho are you?¡± I demanded.


    Laughing harder still, Silverman shook his head and then warped his right hand into a familiar claw, as he had on Hestia Majoris. He then clawed at my bare chest, drawing blood in a surface-level scratch, but not digging too deep into me. Yet. ¡°I am very much the man you fear I am, Blackgar. And I¡¯m not the only one of our gang to walk these halls. You¡¯ve killed Fae and Heirene, yes? And your Crusader killed Prareus? Oof, as I recall, Prareus has quite the bone to pick with that little savant of yours, too. Fae was so insistent we kill you while you were out, but I knew you should see the extent of your failure, first.¡±


    ¡°You lie,¡± I insisted, still in disbelief. I could not grasp it. The dead did not return from their eternal slumber, that was a universal rule. And then it dawned on me, that old saying Prareus had given to Zha on Canicus: Engineering eternity. ¡°What have you done? What is this?¡±


    ¡°I was wondering if you would¡¯ve been able to figure it out, but it seems not. We¡¯ve shown you all the clues. We were hoping that if you realized what we were up to, you would be forced to make haste to Amnes Minoris to put a stop to it. But you had no such realization, and you came here all the same in your ignorance. Idiotic behavior, if you ask me,¡± Silverman chided. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, to sate your curiosity, I will tell you two things: I will tell you what¡¯s going on, yes, so as to deepen your horror. But I will also grant you the piece of mind that, ultimately, Gale Ryke is well and truly dead. That¡¯s what happens when you make a deal with a Daemon Prince like Mordefir.¡±


    ¡°M¡­Mordefir? Is its presence what I felt on Hestia Majoris? Is it red?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Really, Blackgar, of all the questions you could ask me, you query about the color of a Daemon Prince you¡¯ll never need to worry about? And how the bloody hell should I know what frigging color it is? Ask Ryke, when you meet him in the afterlife,¡± Silverman sighed. He then departed from my side for a moment to return while wheeling his breakfast table and seat over to sit beside me. He then reached into his pocket to pull out a vial of smooth, silvery liquid, placing the vial onto the table between us before he resumed his breakfast. ¡°What is this?¡± he asked me, nodding toward the vial.


    ¡°W-what?¡± I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the impossible. Silverman rolled his eyes. I believe I was boring him.


    ¡°Your savant took a sample of this. What is it?¡±


    ¡°F-First Matter?¡± I suggested.


    Silverman rolled his eyes again. ¡°Ugh, yes, those idiotic pricks do like using their high-and-mighty translations, don¡¯t they? Yes, First Matter, the Prima Materia, etc. etc. It¡¯s an extract from a Pariah. Yes, good, hm?¡± I nodded, pretending I was following along, but as evidenced by Silverman¡¯s dismay, I was not. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s this?¡± he asked after pulling another object from his pocket.


    ¡°A flect,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°Very good! How perceptive¡ªthey should make you an Inquisitor one day,¡± he mocked. ¡°Alright, last one. Doesn¡¯t really fit in my pocket, though. What¡¯s this?¡± he asked, quite literally stretching an arm across the room, as he had in my fight against him in Hestia Majoris. When his arm returned to a normal size, it dropped a heavy metal skull upon his table with a thud.


    ¡°A Xenos head,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Yes, very good. They call themselves the Necrontyr¡­or, they used to. I can¡¯t say I care, and it doesn¡¯t matter what they¡¯re called anyway,¡± Silverman shrugged dismissively. ¡°So, we have a bit of Pariah extract, a bit of Warp extract, and a bit of Xenos¡­stuff. Throw it all together, and what do you get?¡±


    ¡°Eternity?¡± I offered.


    ¡°Well, yes, but it takes a bit more effort than that,¡± he admitted. ¡°Alright, lore time. You subscribe to the Imperial Creed, yes? We¡¯re not idiots here, you don¡¯t have to answer that. So, tell me, Blackgar, what happens when you die?¡±


    ¡°Presumably so do a lot of Phaenonites,¡± I grunted. Silverman snorted a laugh, then waved a hand, inviting me to play along. I did so, wanting to see how his apparent return from the dead came about. ¡°When I die, if I was faithful to the Beneficent Emperor, my soul is guided to His table, to wait until I am again needed to fight by His side,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Your soul goes to the Warp and something happens to it,¡± Silverman shot back in less-than-flowery terms. I sighed and shrugged. ¡°So, to slow it down, your soul goes to the Warp,¡± he repeated, lifting the flect into the air between us. ¡°But what if, when it¡¯s there, instead of ambiguously fading away to whatever table nonsense you just described, it¡¯s kept contained in more or less a complete package, for easy transport?¡±


    ¡°Heresies aside¡ªof which there are uncountably many¡ªI do not follow,¡± I replied.


    Silverman held up the vial of Pariah extract. ¡°Pariahs repress the Warp. But they push it away, shoving it aside. They do not destroy it. With some simple engineering, one could create a bubble in the Warp. With more advanced techniques, one could create, say, a tunnel.¡±


    ¡°From where, to where?¡± I asked, playing along.


    ¡°Ah, an excellent question for once!¡± Silverman exclaimed. ¡°And that¡¯s where the Xenos comes in. You see, these are resilient little buggers. Not often you can find a dead one, and that¡¯s because when they suffer great injury, they phase out of existence where they had been, reappearing in a tomb world¡­ship¡­thing to be repaired and revitalized. We have reengineered that for ourselves, creating an array of death-guidance through this Warp-tunnel. From where to where, Blackgar? From death to life. More accurately, from wherever we die, to here. Amnes Minoris. Welcome to our fountain of eternal life. Yes, Blackgar, you did kill me some years ago, you really did. And you did kill Fae and the others. But here we all are, back home. Unlike you, we¡¯ll just keep living when we die.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying I get to kill you more than once? Blessed Emperor, that¡¯s excellent,¡± I laughed. Silverman was not as amused.


    ¡°And tell me, Blackgar, how exactly do you intend to do that?¡± he asked, dry and devoid of the prior excitement he had possessed while elaborating of his supposed immortality. ¡°You are¡­rather restrained. And down an arm. And save for your wit, without the weapons of your mind,¡± he noted.


    ¡°They should make you an Inquisitor too if perceptivity is the only requirement,¡± I agreed. ¡°May I make what I assume is a very deep and insightful assumption about you, Silverman?¡±


    ¡°I can hardly wait.¡±


    ¡°You intend to torture me, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No, I was going to take you for a nice walk and¡ªyes, of course, I¡¯ve been waiting to do so for ninety years,¡± he growled.


    ¡°Well, if you wouldn¡¯t mind waiting a little longer, I¡¯ve got an awful itch on the arm amputation. Your techs didn¡¯t do a great job disarming me. If you wouldn¡¯t mind, of course¡ªI¡¯d hate to interrupt your plans,¡± I explained.


    Silverman sighed, shook his head, and turned around to scry across the many tools available to him in the room. He turned back after plucking a screwdriver from a drawer, tossing it up and catching it in his hands like a young boy playing with a ball. ¡°And about that arm of yours, Blackgar, we did some digging into it. It¡¯s not the one you usually use. That one had a Bolter round and autogun munitions in it, according to Fae, and according to Heirene could launch its hand around. The one you¡¯ve brought down here possesses no such features. It does, however, have broad-spectrum auspex apparatus, which at least partially explains why you came down here alone. Wanted to scout things out a bit, hm? There are better ways than scouting headfirst, you should know that.¡±


    ¡°I really was serious about that itch, by the way,¡± I interjected.


    Silverman tapped the head of his screwdriver to my chest before dragging it across my torso. ¡°The arm also features a beacon transmitter, which we¡¯ve disabled, but oddly it never transmitted any information to begin with. So, you were taking info in, but you weren¡¯t sharing it with your Agents. What gives, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°Really, I just bought the cheapest model. Didn¡¯t want to waste the good stuff down here, you understand,¡± I explained with a shrug.


    ¡°Right,¡± he drawled. ¡°Let¡¯s see about that itch, then,¡± he sneered, levying the screwdriver at my shoulder augmetic joint, and then¡ªat last¡ªhe made the mistake of kneeling down to get a firsthand look at the apparatus on my body. ¡°You¡ª¡± he started, and thrust himself away from me, but not far or fast enough before the digital weapon built into my shoulder vaporized his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s how I intend to kill you,¡± I muttered, worming my way out of a now-incinerated strapping that had been holding that shoulder down. In turn, with the residual heat remaining in that shoulder, I was able to burn away some of the restraints upon my other arm, and from there free myself fully. I went to fetch my augmetic, taking Silverman¡¯s screwdriver with me as I stepped over his smoldering, headless corpse, and when I had my metal arm in my possession I took to tinkering with its beacon. When I was confident I had sorted out how the Phaenonites had disabled it, I reattached my augmetic to my shoulder. The beacon, as Silverman correctly observed, had not tried to share any info with my Agents. It was waiting on a significant drop in sustained power to do so, such as would occur from the firing of my shoulder¡¯s digital weapon.


    I cannot say I expected to be held captive by a man I once had killed, but my being disarmed in captivity was obvious. Throne, even the Arbites had thought to do so. Alas, with my beacon now active and transmitting sensory information into the Warp, where my allies laid in wait, my plans ran dry. And then a thought washed over me. Tunnel, Silverman had described their process with the Pariah extract. If his heresy was real¡ªrather, if this heresy was real, as he was certainly a thorough heretic¡ªhis soul was traveling through that ¡®tunnel¡¯ right now.


    I reached down to his corpse and, perhaps against my better judgment, placed a hand on his headless shoulders. As I had with the Xenos under Aerialon, I felt around for life in a dead thing. I found it, formless, but life all the same. Indeed, Silverman was not dead, but whisked away through the Warp, unabated by the tumult of that depraved dimension as though assisted by a vile mockery of the Emperor¡¯s guiding light. And then, perhaps just as suddenly as I had smote Silverman in the first place, his eyes shot open. He was alive in the materium, encased in a vat of cryogenic amniotics. He emerged from the vat by force in a fit of frustrated anger, finding before himself a woman I was less than pleased to see.


    ¡°Nest to Orbital, confirming multiple contacts. All vessels prioritize enemy positions as follows: Coldbreed, Echoshroud, Lor¡ª¡± Amelia Fae commanded through a voxcaster.


    ¡°He¡¯s out,¡± Silverman growled, emerging further from his cryovat and flexing his Warped augmetics to ensure they worked on his new body.


    Fae turned to look at Silverman with sheer disgust on her face. ¡°Don¡¯t make me say I told you so,¡± she seethed. ¡°Is he still here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he¡¯s still in the Nest,¡± Silverman answered.


    ¡°He cannot be allowed to sabotage¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know. He won¡¯t. Not this time. Lockdown the facility. Deploy all the System Purge Teams we have. If Blackgar wants the book thrown at him, he will damn well have it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had to dispatch most of our SysPurge surface-side to secure the Nest exterior. Blackgar¡¯s fleet is twice as large as we thought it was¡ªdon¡¯t ask me how, we don¡¯t have time to figure that out,¡± Fae replied, flustered and frustrated.


    ¡°What do we still have onsite, then?¡±


    ¡°7-11.¡±


    ¡°Then I will take SysPurge 7 through 11 and kill this sonofabitch once and for all. Lockdown. Now.¡±

 Chapter 55 - Nest

    Silverman¡¯s conversation with Fae, which to my knowledge transpired without his knowing of my eavesdropping, informed me of two things. The obvious and explicit one being that, as expected, I was about to be hunted down. The second and unspoken information was that this hunt was going to be carried out by Silverman himself and whatever comprised the ¡®System Purge¡¯ Teams they possessed. Notably, that did not seem to imply the activity of a Maletek Stalker. I wager their Stalker was not present within this facility due to its connection with the Warp; I do not imagine their facility would damage the Stalker itself, but, perhaps, the Stalker¡¯s presence may damage the Pariah-induced ¡®tunnel¡¯ they were using for their nefarious designs. Whatever the case, by Silverman¡¯s implications, I believed I had one saving grace in not needing to face such a foe in such a state.


    I clawed my way out from the torture room Silverman had intended for me, relying on my augmetic to do so, even if it was without its usual armament. I emerged into what I assumed was a medicae facility, albeit lacking the typical Imperial decorum. The walls were smooth and white, devoid of faithful architecture and classical designs. Panels of reinforced glass slid from room to room, each being thrust to a closed position as the facility¡¯s lockdown initiated. A pre-recorded voice¡ªwhose owner I did not recognize¡ªreminded me of the lockdown, aided by the dimming of brighter white lights and the engaging of darker red ones. This facility, it occurred to me, was far more advanced than the backwater hamlet I had first explored on Amnes Minoris. I wondered where, exactly, we were.


    I did not have the time to sit and dwell on that matter; instead, I snuck into another nearby room¡ªfilled with torturous medicae equipment, as mine had been¡ªbringing with me Silverman¡¯s screwdriver and power dagger he had mistakenly brought with him to our reunion. Why he thought bringing a Pyrran Commissar in such proximity to a blade was a good idea was beyond me, but it was mine now. I stalked from one medicae room to another, putting distance from my original location, but trying to cover my tracks as best I could while staying away from open hallways. As I did so, I also dwelled on the nature of my psychic abilities¡¯ interaction with the suppressing Pariah-extract likely lined throughout the facility. I already knew I could not feel far with my mind, and yet I was able to follow Silverman¡¯s departure from one mortal coil to his arrival in another. My mind was not turned off here, so to speak, it was just being pushed against. As Silverman said, the Pariah gene did not destroy the Warp, but repress it. I wagered, then, that I could probably still utilize low-range but high-yield psykana, perhaps not managing to pop the minds of others but maybe able to at least shield my physical form.


    With my psychic senses repressed, I heard the approach of the Phaenonites¡¯ goons before anything else. I took cover along a wall of a medicae room adjacent to the hallway of their approach, careful not to stand against glass, from where my shadow may be visible. Instead, I heard them march past and viewed their own shadows gloss across the reinforced glass of my room. Fight or hide? I knew in an instant I could not let such foes get behind me, and that my detection was inevitable. In a manner that would have made Bliss proud, I snuck out from the medicae room behind the trio of grunts that were marching down the hall, and in a flash I slashed open the neck of one with the power dagger¡ªnot then engaged, as its power would create a humming noise¡ªand buried the screwdriver in another¡¯s faceplate. The third suffered a slower fate, having their faceplate crushed by an augmetic fist before finally having their neck broken in an augmetic chokehold.


    I then fell onto my front as autogun fire wracked the reinforced glass of the medicae across the one I had emerged from. I fell among the bodies I had just slain, landing in a puddle of their own blood, but when the shooting paused I rose with one of those bodies¡¯ own autoguns, and returned fire. I downed one foe in my counterattack, but the others took cover in the medicae room. Again, I knew I could not let them flank me, so rather than run in flight, I instead took the fight to them, rolling over two corpses and pulling the power dagger out of the face of one of them. I whipped said dagger into the hand of one of my two remaining assailants, making him spring out of cover, where he was shredded by my autogun. The other thought to seize the opportunity of that distraction, but was met with my autogun itself being thrown his way. He had to duck under it, and in the process met a knee to the face as I tackled him to the ground. We tussled for a moment before I wrestled his shotgun from his grasp and blew his chest wide open at point-blank range.


    I panted and gathered my breath for a few moments, which may have saved my life. Before I rose to my feet, a dual lascannon swept across the room, vaporizing everything in sight at chest level. I, again, hit the deck, hiding under the torrent of relentless lasfire. After a few deafening moments of the crimson superheated fury, the lascannon whirred to an overheated stop. It was then that my familiar foe called out to me. ¡°You dead yet?¡± Silverman shouted as bits and pieces of a half dozen medicaes fell and collapsed.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yes!¡± I shouted back, knowing they would check for my body regardless. I may as well toy with Silverman while I had the opportunity. I crawled for the power dagger and engaged it at last before exiting back into the hallway I had conducted my first bout of slaughter. The goon whose neck I broke had been left leaning against the wall from our fight, which meant he was now missing the top half of his body due to the lascannon. I took his shotgun as well as taking, priming, and tossing one of his grenades in the general direction of the lascannon, though I did not expect¡ªnor receive¡ªa miracle in disabling it. Instead, I only sought to spread further disarray.


    Two more goons intercepted me, and were blown open in kind, before Silverman made his re-reintroduction with the slice of an extended, bladed arm. It crashed through a plascrete wall and sent debris flying everywhere, which was the one hint of his appearance I had to go on to react in deflecting his attack with the power dagger. Rather than retracting his arm as he often had, Silverman instead came to me, keeping his arm locked against my dagger. A reasonable strategy, intended to pin me down. I did not let him have the focus of my attention, and pivoted to shoot a flanking minion of his all the same. Only then did I turn my attention to Silverman in full, pirouetting around a pair of slices from each of his arms in sharp, stunted motions of my own. But when the opportunity presented itself, I did as I had done to Gale Ryke long ago, and with a single slash of my dagger, spliced an eye from Silverman. As he recoiled from the blow, I rammed the dagger into his gut before lurching it up and out, splaying his insides unto the floor.


    As he writhed upon the floor, he gurgled out, ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon, Blackgar.¡± He managed a laugh even as he was dying, and it was from that laugh that the thought hit me: I should leave him alive. I had intended to kneel down and finish the Phaenonite off, but this was the third time I was facing the damnable bastard, having killed him twice before. The old way of handling traitors was not working with him.


    ¡°Not as soon as you¡¯d like,¡± I decided, and simply chose to walk away from him, letting him die a slow, undoubtedly painful, but nevertheless certain death. That would keep him from bothering me for a while. In realizing this, as I had, Silverman¡¯s laughing was replaced by the cursing of my name. But that did about as little to impede my escape as he himself had managed.


    ***


    My escape was not flawless, nor short. I was scraped and bruised, and even shot once, as I made my way through the facility the Phaenonites were calling their ¡®Nest.¡¯ A fitting name, given the circumstances. Thankfully much¡ªbut not all¡ªof the facility was filled with medicae units, allowing me to apply some hasty self-care as needed, such as applying a haphazard patching to an autogun wound. I also had the pleasure of killing Silverman half a dozen more times throughout my journey. Each time, he came back more annoyed and more furious than before; I do not know if that implied lasting psychological damage and that I was making actual progress in downing him for good, or if he simply hated dying intentionally-slow, painful deaths.


    I assumed the latter.


    The things I witnessed in the Nest are too vile for this official report. I am reminded of my report of the nature of the factory of flesh in Hestia Majoris as I escaped from it. I regret being as forthcoming with what I had seen there, and while this facility was reminiscent of Sigird¡¯s operation, it lacked the ¡®strength¡¯ of (Dark) Mechanicum influence as had been present on Hestia Majoris. The Phaenonite¡¯s facility was more subtle, more conservative, more confined. Raised ceilings and open catwalks were replaced by narrow corridors and enclosed, adjacent rooms of horror, where beings¡ªI could hardly call them human, but expected at least a few were Pariahs¡ªwere dissected and being reconstructed. Amnes Minoris, and the Nest within, were the end result, I assumed, of what Ryke and Silverman had been up to ninety years ago.


    Eventually, I came to a large, reinforced-glass half-dome revealing the outside world to me at last. Sadly, this outside world was oceanic in nature¡ªthe Nest was underwater. By how much I could not say, but given that I could see light from the skies above at all implied we were not too deep down here. Then again, I knew not of the properties of Amnes Minoris¡¯s water as compared to Terra¡¯s standard metrics. Regardless, I had few other options.


    I started ramming my augmetic fist into the reinforced glass. I no longer had the power dagger¡ªI had lost it in the process of jamming Silverman¡¯s impaled body into a fusion reactor, which had also darkened the facility in the process and at last disabled the damned lockdown notifications. I was, by then, without further armament. So I kept punching.


    ¡°You look desperate,¡± Silverman taunted me, strolling in from a recently-opened reinforced door I had not bothered investigating. A squad of his usual soldiers flanked him. ¡°Running from something, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°To, Silverman, to something. Not from you,¡± I panted, nearly out of breath.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing out there but death. Even if you open that pane before we kill you¡ªwhich you won¡¯t¡ªand even if you make it to the surface¡ªwhich you won¡¯t¡ªI think you have some idea by now of what¡¯s waiting for you,¡± Silverman chuckled. ¡°You put on a good show, though, Loyalist. Much better than Scayn.¡±


    ¡°My mentor¡¯s death stopped goading me many decades ago, Traitor,¡± I replied, dismayed. ¡°You need new material.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯re both old dogs of war by now, aren¡¯t we? Been at this too long. Good news, at least, is that one of us is at their end,¡± he offered.


    ¡°You are?¡± I asked with eager optimism, and rammed my fist into the glass one final time. Then things got very wet and cold, very fast.

 Chapter 56 - Stalker

    My swim was not uninterrupted either. Silverman pursued, and the Nest had coilguns mounted to its exterior. Both were for naught, as beyond its walls, my mind opened up to clarity at last, and I again subjected my Phaenonite pursuer to the pressure of an exponential depth. Furthermore, I was able to successfully shield myself from any subsurface gunfire, and at last emerge upon a rocky shore. I took cover behind a large, black, sharp rock for a time, coilguns still firing up unto the coast from the depths below. But, then freed, I could feel all around me, and thus knew I was safe. For a time.


    While I gathered my breath, I took in the scene of the world ahead. Smoke rose from flame across the horizon, and lights danced in the skies above. A dogfight of fightercraft was visible at the far edges of my view, though I could not discern who the victor was, only that one craft met a fiery demise. The once dark and dreary world of Amnes Minoris had heated to an orange hue from the flames of war, engulfed from all directions by Inquisitorial assault. I wasted no more time against the slick side of my jagged cover than I needed to, and trudged forth onto drier land when I was able, knowing well what would soon be coming for me.


    There were, however, two things coming for me, and the first I was far happier to see than the second. Not long after leaving the coast before the Nest, a swarm of transports¡ªthe Bird included¡ªtouched down before me. My augmetic, damaged though it had been from the fighting in the Nest, still served to give away my location to my allies of the 9<sup>th</sup>, as I had asked of Varnus. I paused again as they landed, to better compose myself and catch my breath. My Crusaders, Anwar and Sven, jumped out from the Bird accompanied by Lucene and the Mission of Sororitas under her command. They hurried for me at once. Silas, Luther, and Zha, meanwhile, emerged from a nearby, non-Thunderhawk transport ship.


    ¡°Throne, Cal, you¡¯re shot,¡± Lucene noted at once, the first to reach me by far, as ever. ¡°Are we extracting you?¡±


    ¡°Negative, I¡¯ll manage,¡± I replied, trudging on toward the Bird. The plan, as originally devised with Caliman, was for me to distract the Stalker while Caliman¡¯s Astartes emptied the world of other opposition. ¡°Is my equipment aboard?¡±


    ¡°Yes, all prepped and ready to go for you,¡± Lanto Sven replied. ¡°Right this way, sir.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, thank you. Silas, secure the area. We will not have long,¡± I instructed, turning to him as he neared. He nodded and took Luther and those under his command to do as I said. I made for the Bird, striding on board and taking to donning my arm as hastily as I could.


    As I did so, as soon as my vox was in my ear, Mirena called to me, ¡°Cal, did I hear right that we¡¯re not getting you out of this shithole?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, Mirena,¡± I replied. ¡°Not until the day is won.¡±


    ¡°And win it we shall,¡± Lucene added. ¡°For the Glory of the Emperor and all in His domain.¡±


    ¡°Glory is great and all, but what exactly should we prepare to be up against?¡± Luther chimed in.


    ¡°Something psychic, powerful, and potentially unkillable,¡± I answered. Lucene¡¯s helmet turned to me, and though the inanimate headgear bore no emotion or expression, the deadpan look spoke volumes all the same. ¡°I have a plan. Or, part of one. If something seems unkillable, you¡¯re just not using a large enough gun. What¡¯s the void looking like? Do we have a point of contact up there?¡±


    ¡°My voxcaster is configured to help us speak with Tech-1 and Psyk-1, both remaining up top, per your instruction,¡± Silas reported. I did not want to flood the surface with psykers against a Maletek Stalker. One¡ªmyself¡ªwas bad enough. No, Gradshi and his organization could provide surfacelevel assistance at an orbital distance the way no others could, and it was not worth risking them further when they may just make our foe stronger in the process. And Varnus was, likewise, where I wanted him, surveying the full extent of our battle in the skies and on the ground. His mind was best tasked to that, and to the cleanup afterward.


    ¡°Perfect, thank you,¡± I answered Silas, donning the final pieces of my equipment¡ªbeing my helmet, my power sword, and Drepane. I then headed for the exit of the Bird, joined as ever by Lucene at my side. ¡°Command heading out. Aerial units depart when your packages are deployed, and fly safe. Fly far. Do not respond to requests for air support from our unit.¡±


    ¡°Cal, don¡¯t¡­,¡± Mirena started, but bit her tongue. ¡°Happy hunting.¡±


    ¡°You too, Law.¡±


    As our transports departed, I turned to Sven, Anwar, and Lucene. They were the closest at the time, and I did not have the opportunity to instruct everyone I could see. ¡°When it comes, when our foe arrives, do not trust your eyes. They will lie to you. Trust only in your instinct, that it may be the voice of our Blessed Emperor, even if it seems like you are aiming at or defending from nothing. It could save your life.¡±


    We trudged on as a large contingent of soldiers together, for a time, to no particular goal but to be bait. We were well spread out, but not so far removed from each other as to isolate anyone. Our unit ran into occasional light opposition from what appeared to be the local militia of Amnes Minoris. That militia was inherently confused, unsure whose side to take, but appeared to err on the side of the Phaenonite, as the traitors were likely poised as locals to the world, and we the invaders. I suppose that much was true, yes. Their confusion did not matter; whenever we ran into detachments of that militia, they were too ill-equipped and ill-prepared to face my elite forces, and were mulched in seconds as a result.


    ¡°Blackgar, confirm status?¡± Varnus called to me through our vox, some few minutes from our initial departure.


    ¡°Alive,¡± I replied dryly.


    ¡°Good. My sensors suggest a Warp Storm is heading for you, but my visuals betray me and I do not see as much from up here. Can you confirm anomalous contact?¡± Varnus requested.


    I ignored that request, because it was then that I knew our doom had arrived. +Everyone take cover!+ I messaged the whole extent of our unit. Our unseen foe could be coming from anywhere, and I was sure they knew it, but chaos ensued all the same. I ran for what I had once known to be the shielding of a fallen, wooden shack, but where it once had stood was then replaced by the horrors of my past, a power of Gradshi¡¯s Coraline, stolen and devoured by our terrible foe.


    I was back on Hestia Majoris.


    And where the shack had been instead stood Hans Okustin, a full¡ªif nude¡ªAstartes. ¡°Boss,¡± he sighed in whimsy, as though relieved to see me.


    I knew he was not real, I knew he was dead¡ªunlike the Phaenonites, I knew Hans Okustin would not come back from the dead. Yet all the same, I froze, frozen to my core before the memory of my former Interrogator. Some distance away, Luther was asking what Czevia Gao was doing here, and elsewhere Jack Harr was held at gunpoint by Bliss Carmichael. Everyone was haunted by the menaces of our pasts, and immaterial though these ghosts were, like much with the Immaterium, they were all too lethal.


    ¡°Boss,¡± Okustin repeated, and took a step toward me. ¡°You sent me to my death. They made it such a horrible end, why did you do that? You had to have known.¡±


    ¡°You understood the risks,¡± I panted, my voice empty. ¡°You went on ahead willingly.¡±


    ¡°That is what you do, isn¡¯t it? Love us, care for us, get us to be your perfect little buddy-buddy soldiers, and then send us to our gruesome ends in your stead,¡± Okustin pressed, taking another step closer to me.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°I have been denied my death at every turn, Hans. Your fate was of your choosing when you chose to enter my service,¡± I protested.


    ¡°Voidshit! My fate was of your making!¡± Okustin roared. ¡°You could have killed the world when Scayn had died, and spared us of our ends! I would have avoided my fate, and now, since you hadn¡¯t, you could have avoided yours,¡± he growled, and at last lurched for me. An Astartes, even a ghost of a puppet of one, was far too great a foe to escape from even if I was not within the grip of fear. As it was, Okustin reached me without issue, and as I recoiled in terror, grabbed my right arm and flung me head-over-heels in the direction he had charged me from. My backside slammed through the unseen shack, sending imperceptible splinters in all directions, before I then landed on the rocky, artillery-pummeled terrain of Hestia Majoris. A nonexistent Skorpius burned in the distance.


    That, at last, sufficed to spur me from my terror.


    Okustin jumped for me again, but I met him with as great a psychic blast as I could muster, greater in strength and might than had once pasted Silverman or Espirov, the Heretek. This blast served only to push the ghost-puppet Astartes away, though he did burn to cinders, as he had on Hestia Majoris. My psykana would not have done that, but it may have been the psychic projection¡¯s interpretation of two psykers¡¯ effects meeting. ¡°Look at the agony you wrought! You spoke of the Scarus Inquisitor¡¯s heresy in the condemnation of one¡¯s surety, but what of yours? What of this?¡± Okustin demanded, gesturing to his now-burnt self. ¡°This is only ever where your path will lead!¡±


    ¡°That is your path, daemon, not mine!¡± I protested, punching a ceramite fist into the ground. I knew I was not speaking with Okustin at all, even if it looked and sounded like he would have. I would not address this thing as if it was my beloved Interrogator. On instinct, I reached for my Boltpistol, and then reminded myself of what I had told Lucene and my Crusaders¡ªthat this projection was not real, and that Bolts would not suffice for it. That hesitation baited Okustin in again, and though that was not my intent, it did provide me the opportunity to slam him back once more with another wave of my psykana. That sufficed, it seemed, to disperse that psychic projection for the time being, though it took a ton out of me.


    I paused for a moment, trying to get my bearings, but when I did so I could hear naught but the screaming of my allies around me as they suffered from equally haunting visions themselves. I reached a hand to my vox bead, but as I did so two black, carapace-armored arms wrapped around my neck from behind, trying to choke me out. I rammed a ceramite shoulder into the head of my assailant, knocking them off me, and then stumbled forward and pivoted to face my attacker. Silas. It was actually Silas, in the flesh, but whatever he was seeing me as was something worth killing, to him. I did not imagine he would be able to hear me speak or let my mind in, either.


    The two beady, red eyes of his skull-patterned helmet lurched for me the moment he drew a power knife from his waist. I ducked under one slash from him and then caught the downward, stabbing plunge of a follow up attack by placing one hand on his wrist. Even so, Silas was strong, incredibly so, and forced me to my knees despite my power armor. I raced a hand up to his head, thumbing over a crimson eyepiece, but he responded to that by jabbing his free fist into my exposed neck as I looked up to him. And remember when I said Silas was strong?


    I stumbled away, gagging and wheezing for breath, while my masterful Scion remained tricked into pursuing me further. His knife whizzed and whirred around me, threatening to lop any stray limb it could find from my body¡ªpower armor was no protection from powered weapons in kind.


    The very last thing I could want was to need to kill Silas Hager, but I would if needed.


    I engaged Drepane, my Nemesis Falchion.


    The Nemesis weapon seemed to drive pause into Silas¡¯s flurry of attacks, but only for a moment before he resumed his onslaught. However, where once I had been on the backpedal from him, with Drepane in my hands I could at last go toe-to-toe with him. And, eventually, I demonstrated that even Silas Hager was, with a knife, not a match for a Pyrran with a sword. It took cleaving a finger from my friend and smacking his blade aside to manage it, but I did at last achieve dominance over my Scion. Apparently able to feel that torturous pain, he recoiled from me, and I gave him what mercy I could in sheathing my own blade, but only in the same motion that I rammed a fist into his carapace-covered gut. As he lurched forward over his stomach, I rose my other fist into his skull, and in an uppercut, leveled my Scion against the ground at last.


    Ever the tenacious one, even then Silas was not defeated. In a panic, he reached for his largest weapon, his Ryza Pattern Hellgun, and trained it on me. I kicked it aside and forced his first shot wide, after which I planted a knee on his sternum and buried his Omnishield-protected head beneath another fist of ceramite. I then took his Hellgun for myself, immediately pivoting to shoot a Harakoni¡ªnot Luther, but one of his Strike team¡ªand then a Sister of Battle, both of whom sought to flank me, Silas¡¯s Hellgun being the only ranged weapon I had that could hurt but not instantly kill either of them. Even so, it was of such power that I may have critically wounded them all the same. Silas, somehow still conscious, then reached up to my neck and tried to strangle me, but I at last put him to rest with another pair of ceramite fists.


    I then flipped Silas onto his front, that I could operate the voxcaster on his back. Thankfully, it had not been damaged in our fighting. I reached for the amplifier dial and, in my haste, spun it with such ferocity and strength that I broke the thing off completely. ¡°To any receiving vessel in orbit, this is Command-1! Full weapons strike two kilometers north-northwest of my position immediately! Mission Critical!¡±


    ¡°That is too danger close, sir,¡± Gradshi objected.


    ¡°Do it now!¡± I shrieked in response. ¡°We are Exigent Calamity! Full strike, two kilometers, now! And Throne-1, I need you.¡±


    ¡°Priming forward batteries,¡± Varnus confirmed for me. ¡°Recommend achieving reinforced bunker in thirty standard seconds or anticipate annihilation.¡±


    ¡°Confirm,¡± I replied, and finally rose from my unconscious Scion¡¯s body. As I did so, I found my once-heated surroundings to be almost entirely pitch-black, as though night had fallen and been emptied of combat. In an instant, I reached for and engaged Drepane again, and in the process created psychic light amidst the treacherous shadows. A wall of brass hung, barely illuminated, at the edges of my vision, the barking hiss of a steam engine serving for the low growl of my impossible foe.


    I leapt from Silas¡¯s body, scared shitless yet possessing a modicum of instinct yet, and dodged a Bolt round in the process. A mechanized claw screamed through the air toward me, missing my face by inches. And I do mean screamed, as the cries of the Warp suffered through my surroundings at its pass. I flung psychic lightning from Drepane toward my brass assassin, but his barely-humanoid visage simply collapsed upon itself, letting my attack be swallowed up by the endless shadows beyond. When the Stalker recoalesced, it did so with its claw already embedded in my augmetic arm, whereupon it flung me away, tearing my arm to shreds of scrap metal. I landed, hard, against the ground, dazed and¡ªThrone¡ªstill catching my breath from when Silas had punched me in the neck. That had been mere seconds ago.


    The Stalker fired a pair of Bolter shots at me as it approached. I psychically detonated the first in midair before it reached me, but only barely managed to deflect the second. It spun into the ground near my head, where it then detonated on its own in a splintering shower of jagged stone. I sent another blast of my psykana toward the Stalker, and again it phased out of material existence. This time, I scurried to my feet and dove forward, barely dodging its reappearance, where it seemed to have been clawing for my heart. I turned to face it, and in so doing sufficed only to have my breastplate slashed off my torso, the Stalker¡¯s claw cleaving through my armor as though it was not there in the first place. But in that same attack, I finally caught its claw against Drepane, and with both my arms to its one¡ªeven if my augmetic was sorely damaged¡ª, combined with Drepane¡¯s Warp-suppressing nature, I was able to hold the beast back at last.


    For all that was good for, anyway.


    It pointed and aimed its wrist-mounted Boltgun to me, and I had to duck under its aim, surrendering my block of its claw in the process. Its hand¡ªnot its claw, praise the Throne¡ªlurched forward and plucked me from the ground by my face. Its claw, meanwhile, loomed at the edges of my vision, glistening in the light given off by Drepane. In one frantic, final attempt to save myself, I rammed Drepane through this monster¡¯s face.


    The hiss of steam chuckled in reply, and the claw descended upon me.


    However, it was then that time froze. Not in the literal sense, but our sense of it was shattered as something far faster than myself or the Stalker at last arrived. And no, I do not mean Lucene¡ªthe Stalker was well beyond her haste, or even that of any Astartes I had known or faced. No, instead, it was the shockwave of orbital bombardment, upon which time the Stalker realized it had not done as I had in shielding myself solely from the north-northwest, the full extent of my psychic power pointed in that direction for myself and my allies. Psychic shield or not, everything in sight was leveled and blown away all the same.


    I heard their cries in the Warp.


    I heard the pain I had caused for my allies. The catastrophic deaths I had ordered.


    I heard the furious rage of the Phaenonite, as they commanded all their available units descend upon my last known location.


    I heard the hissing of steam, surviving even still.

 Chapter 57 - Throne

    Brass cybernetic terror regenerated atop the rubble of a sundered continent, Boltgun reconstituting from nothingness and claw ripping through reality to grasp at open skies. What it found, instead, was 230 tons of steel unceremoniously rammed into its front as the Eximus Convictor strode across the pummeled landscape, surveying what little was left. Galen did not even notice the Stalker¡¯s regenerating existence until his Knight stepped off it, after which he paused for a moment to look with idle curiosity at the daemonic humanoid ebbing back into material form in his footfall. Galen, as the Eximus Convictor, looked at the decrepit, pancaked daemoncraft for perhaps ten seconds before silently raising the Volcano Lance installed on his Knight Castellan¡¯s right arm over the Warp-thing¡¯s torso.


    A shriek of ungodly light erupted from Galen¡¯s Volcano Lance. It was subsequently met by a likewise-ungodly shriek of shadows which erupted from the ground, but those quieted before Galen¡¯s weapon, a gargantuan lasgun that could cleanly carve off a leg from a God-machine, even began to whirr down. He then moved on, 230 tons of cold fury marching in search of its target. In as ignominious an end as it deserved, the Phaenonite¡¯s Maletek Stalker was no more, suffused with the molten slag of rock at its back, buried into the crust of the planet.


    #THERE YOU ARE.#


    Galen plunged his left arm into rubble some distance from where the Stalker had been, for installed on the Eximus Convictor¡¯s left was no Knightly weapon, but a large Thunderstrike Gauntlet for a hand. When his hand emerged from the ground, he pulled out a body. Mine. His hand, far larger than my being, curled around my form, shielding it from view.


    #YOU ALWAYS WERE A MADMAN, COMMISSAR.#


    Galen turned the Eximus Convictor just in time to react to yet another bombardment, though this was lighter than that of an orbital vessel. It came, instead, from a pair of tanks that had rolled over a ridge a hundred meters away. Galen¡¯s Ion Shields cared little of such armament, catching the salvo and holding from the ensuing explosions. Before the fire and brimstone parted, the Siegebreaker Cannon mounted to the top of his right shoulder popped both tanks like over-pressurized cans of tin. Likewise, without needing to face it, his left shoulder¡¯s Siegebreaker Cannon blew a third tank sky high.


    An instant later, the Eximus Convictor stumbled forward, eating the payload of a bombing run from a pair of aircraft. Galen raised his Volcano Lance to one, but also needed to focus his Void Shields against a cluster of explosive small arms fire, a veritable army moving against him.


    Embroiled in smoke and flame, Galen shot forth, hundreds of tons of metal racing for their lines and driving any sane individual into panic. As Galen¡¯s Thunderstrike Gauntlet tightened around me, his Knight bellowed out, #YOU WANT HIM? COME AND TAKE HIM! YOU FACE THE ONCE-GATEKEEPER OF HOUSE CARADRED, AND WILL NOT KNOW THE TASTE OF VICTORY WHILE HE YET STANDS!# A trio of rockets from the Stormspear Pod installed above and between his shoulders screeched into the skies, each tracking different clusters of infantry, while Galen¡¯s Volcano Lance spun on its horizontal axis and sublimated one of the bombers that had hit him earlier.


    +Galen.+


    #STILL WITH ME, COMMISSAR? YOU CALL THIS A BATTLE? YOU HAD PROMISED ME SOME FUN.# It was then that he pried his Gauntlet open ever so slightly, and brief confusion set in when he saw I had not moved in his grasp. I had not spoken to him, or even opened my eyes. He did not let this disturbing development stop him from reducing another tank to infernal sludge with a carapace-mounted twin-Melta. #YOU SPEAK, YET I DO NOT HEAR,# he noted.


    +You had asked how I came to be an Inquisitor,+ I answered. +This is how. I am a psyker. Took a lot of bloodshed to learn that.+


    #WHATEVER YOU ARE, YOU ARE MY COMMANDING OFFICER. REMAIN STEADFAST, OLD FRIEND. NO FOE OR MASSED COWARDS LURK UPON THIS EMPEROR-FORSAKEN WORLD THAT I CANNOT OR WILL NOT SLAY.#


    +I know. Thank you.+ Galen nodded through the form of his blessed, Knightly visage, a hundred tons of steel bowing to my near-unconscious existence while he disintegrated two dozen enemies on a half-dozen fronts. I had never seen through a Knight¡¯s eyes as Galen had once lamented I could not. Only a special type of man could sit upon a Throne Mechanicum, a true Noble¡ªunlike those of the useless ¡®houses¡¯ that sat on a futile court on Skardak¡¯s Reach¡ªlike himself. But when Galen had so-lamented of my missing out on the experience, neither of us knew I was a psyker.


    Now we did.


    I peered inside, out of sheer curiosity, and saw the world as he saw it from a dozen eyes. I saw targeting indicators displayed over range metrics, sensorium scans and mass-readouts of our surroundings, and heat signature readings for the target locks of missiles. I saw energy readings and impulses, I felt the ebb and flow of the Knight Castellan he controlled; no, it is wrong to say he controlled it. A man controls a vessel like an aircraft or the God-machines of the Titanica, but a man becomes a Knight. Galen was the Eximus Convictor. He moved its intangible ion shield to intercept enemy fire as though blinking an eye. He felt the striking of heavy munitions like the prattling tap of fingers. It was he that waded through a literal army, he that smote traitorous flesh and armor from existence, he that shielded my limp form in the grasp of his left hand.


    It¡ªno, he¡ªwas awesome. Wonderous. Amazing, and as sure a sign as any that the Beneficent Emperor remained strong in the Imperium. For that, so ought we. +Galen, if you can command the battlefield, can you return to where you found me?+ I asked of him.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    #JUST A MOMENT,# he replied, loosing a flurry of eight more missiles from the Stormspear Rocket Pod and finally managing to snipe the other bomber from the skies with his Lance. The missiles he had launched screeched away and lit the landscape up, pummeling what straggling infantry remained. His lower half, his legs, then marched in place to turn around while his top half remained in place, surveying the scene. Satisfied that he had beaten an army into submission, Galen turned in full, his legs already taking strides back to my requested destination. He took a few steps toward our start, then paused. #HMM, NUCLEAR DEATHSTRIKE LAUNCH. ARRIVAL IMMINENT. ANOTHER MOMENT, COMMISSAR.# His hulking form looked to the skies for a few moments, scanning through the atmospheric warzone, before raising and priming his Volcano Lance on a glimmer of light thousands of meters away. He fired it in spurts rather than as a contiguous beam, even the Knight¡¯s targeting systems struggling to track the missile at such a range and velocity.


    Eventually, however, he hit his target, and the world roughly eight kilometers away from us erupted into a second sun. #NOT TO WORRY.#


    +Show off.+


    #YOU¡¯RE ONE TO TALK. WHAT WAS THAT PHRASE? EXIGENT CALAMITY? FANCY. YOU DID NOT USE SUCH WORDS IN THE COMISSARIAT.#


    +Big words do not embolden common soldiers. I no longer lead common soldiers.+


    #WELL, THAT¡¯S CERTAINLY TRUE, ISN¡¯T IT? HERE WE ARE, YOUR DESTINATION,# he told me, having crossed the distance in no time at all. Though the proportional figure of his Castellan looked as though it were taking slow steps, it was of such a size that it crossed the distance faster than the nine tanks he had flattened could have at top speed. And this, I knew, was far from him sprinting. He and the Eximus Convictor were a marvel to me even still.


    +My allies¡­one is missing from the rubble.#


    #CALLSIGN? I CAN BEGIN SCANS.#


    +Intel-1. Zha Trantos.+


    ***


    ¡°Prareus, you idiot, leave her!¡± Gerhart Heirene protested, smacking the back of Prareus Avrodam¡¯s head and earning a snarl from the Phaenonite from Canicus.


    ¡°I made her a promise that I will not neglect,¡± Prareus growled in return. ¡°You run if you want. But I am a man of my word.¡±


    ¡°What part of third front don¡¯t you understand? There are Fenrisians in orbit, now! We have blasted Wolves to deal with, on top of everything else!¡± Heirene seethed.


    ¡°Then go deal with them. The Wolves won¡¯t play nice with the others anyways, especially not the Red Hunters which that fool Caliman commands,¡± Prareus deflected, disinterested. ¡°Go set them up on a date or something. My day is booked.¡±


    ¡°You are doomed, then, to your idiocy. I will not get caught up in it,¡± Heirene sighed, leaving Prareus to his work. Prareus shook his head, then picked up a scalpel and made for the medicae station, where his prey had been gagged and tied.


    ¡°So, where were we, you and I?¡± he asked Zha, removing the gag from her mouth. She lurched for him, but did not manage even an inch from the table she was tied to.


    ¡°Heirene is right,¡± she heaved out, fire burning in dark eyes.


    ¡°In what way?¡± Prareus asked, tapping his scalpel to her face, and pricking a tiny cut under her right eye.


    ¡°You are an idiot. And you are doomed,¡± Zha seethed. ¡°When Blackgar finds you¡ª¡±


    ¡°When he finds me? Oh, dear Trantos, Blackgar is likely a radioactive paste at this point. I heard word of a Deathstrike launch. Not even our pestilent friend could survive such a thing. In any case, you really must learn to fend for yourself. Or, you should have, rather. It¡¯s too late now,¡± Prareus sneered. ¡°Are you not the least bit curious how I¡¯m here? Of how I am not dead?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve figured it out,¡± Zha rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re using the Pariah extract to tunnel through pockets of the Warp pulled out from flects to guide your souls to growth-vat bodies. It¡¯s not too hard to extrapolate, even if it is highly heretical,¡± Zha determined.


    ¡°Huh,¡± Prareus frowned. With a shrug, he then cut another small slit beneath Zha¡¯s other eye, and as she tensed up from that, lurched himself forward and planted his lips upon hers. That only lasted a moment before he recoiled in minor pain, his tongue having been bitten. ¡°Such delightful fight in you. I do wonder how long you¡¯ll keep it up. And such supple flesh. You will be a treat to dissect,¡± Prareus nodded to himself, turning around momentarily to a low thudding in the background. He did not pay it much mind, though it did continue. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    ¡°Frig you,¡± Zha seethed, wrestling against her shackles with all her might as Prareus descended upon her once more. He cut a wide strike through the left side of her head, but before his opening incision reached her cheeks, he froze in place. Completely. Zha suffered for a few moments, believing Prareus was savoring her dissection, until she looked into Prareus¡¯s face. A single tear of blood fell from his eyes, but he otherwise remained petrified. The scalpel then flung away from her and through Prareus¡¯s hand altogether, impaling itself in a faraway wall. Prareus remained frozen, unflinching despite the newly-formed hole in his palm. A moment later, the Phaenonite facility was torn open, a gigantic metal fist cleaving through the ceiling. Zha¡¯s shackles were vaporized when the debris finished falling, allowing her to jump from the table, skirting backward away from Prareus and the metal hulk looming behind him.


    #WORRY NOT, MISS TRANTOS. WE HAVE MET, AND I BRING A FRIEND.#


    ¡°Who¡­what?¡± Zha asked, panicked, blood sliding from her face.


    +Move to the Knight, Ms. Trantos.+


    ¡°M¡­Mr. Blackgar?¡± she hesitated.


    +Ignore the Phaenonite. He is in my grasp now, and will learn how pestilent I can be. Move to the Knight.+


    Zha nodded to herself, and with one eye kept locked on Prareus¡¯s still-blood-crying, still-paralyzed form, moved herself across the room. #YOU WILL NEED TO MAKE ROOM,# Galen warned her, lowering his fist near to her and opening it. Zha nearly shrieked at the sight of me. #YES, HE IS A LITTLE BLOODIED. BUT VERY ALIVE, AS EVIDENCED.#


    ¡°Mr¡­Cal, you have such a head wound, I¡­I¡­I do not know how to¡ª¡± Zha fretted, climbing into Galen¡¯s grasp and embracing my inert form in a panicked hug.


    +I will be fine.+


    ¡°Mr. Blackgar, I believe the Phaenonites are Perpetuals, of a sort,¡± she warned me.


    +Yes, I have learned as much myself.+


    ¡°What will you do with Avrodam?¡±


    +I have already done it. I have inflicted as much pain as I can dream of upon him, but not enough to kill him. He will suffer for days yet, until he dies of hunger or thirst. If he returns from that death, he may likely be entirely mad. Galen, there is a second army approaching.+


    #GOOD. THE FIRST WAS TOO LIGHTWEIGHT. I AM FAR FROM SATED.#

 Chapter 58 - Viriditas

    Rise, Blackgar.


    I pushed myself to my feet, unaware of where I was. I had just been laying in the palm of Galen¡¯s Knightly hand, accompanied by Zha. I could have been a million miles from there, then. Even once standing, I had no idea of my location, for the terrain below was of a sandy path whose edges whisked away into empty darkness. A man in a fine silk suit with a black tie stood before me, one hand held out invitingly, but not with the intent of a handshake.


    Good lad.


    He did not speak to me, nor was the phrase somehow forced upon me. The thought appeared in my head of my own creation, it spawned from within me.


    That¡¯s right. I have wanted to speak to you for some time now, after your success on Hestia Majoris.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked, and though the message came across, my words were not audible to me. I was as silenced as Vilk Issik had been in trying to name the Inquisitor¡ªFae¡ªhe had met on Aerialon.


    I am a man of little import. A spokesperson for a being far greater than either of us. Come, walk with me. We have determined the end for you.


    ¡°What the Throne do you mean by that?¡± I asked, following the nameless figure all the same, again not speaking audibly, save for one word. Throne. Utterance of such a holy word made this vision pulsate and tremble, its grasp on me weakening.


    Ah, alas, your God does carry weight even in these parts, yes. Forgive me, I should at least give you my name. I am Ouranos, and in service to my own patron deity, I have devised for you, as I have for many others, a most perfect ending to your tale. A death. As you have long desired. I think you will find it most agreeable.


    ¡°I have no desire to die while heresy as yours yet lives,¡± I shot back.


    Bah, you say such things while you have not even seen the face of your unmaking yet. Ignore these four, they are of little consequence.


    The four he was referring to were glimmers of vile light astride our sandy path. They were each of a different hue; one blood red, royal purple, sky blue, and putrid green. I did as instructed and joined Ouranos in walking past them, though I felt as though I did not have much say in the matter. However, upon arriving at the destination he had meant for me, I froze in place, either locked there in this manipulative hell or stuck in my own terror.


    Beautiful, is she not? The most perfect ending for your journey. She is your demise, and you are hers. It will be exquisite for you both. My patron is most pleased with this design, more so than many others I have devised prior. What do you think?


    Before me stood perhaps my greatest fear of all. ¡°L¡­Lucene.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Lucene,¡± I muttered, waking slowly with the light flutter of my eyelids. Something was off about my vision, but in my waking state I could not put a finger as to what.


    ¡°Right here, Cal, welcome back,¡± Lucene answered my call, sitting next to me on the medicae unit to my left; I found, in the process, that my augmetic arm had not been replaced. That made sense, as while the sensory one I had taken to the warzone was destroyed, the heavily-weaponized one was not, but was probably unsafe for wearing in a medicae. Lucene, after sitting where my arm usually was, leaned over to kiss me gently, then rose and passed a hand along the crown of my head, embracing me. ¡°You were out for some time,¡± she started, then chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you,¡± she added, and then went in for another kiss.


    ¡°Trantos?¡±


    ¡°Fine, Cal, she¡¯s fine. A bit traumatized, understandably, but absolutely fine,¡± Lucene answered.


    ¡°Silas?¡±


    ¡°Also OK. Easy, Cal, easy, the Hestian gang is still with us,¡± she informed me, which quelled my fears tremendously. ¡°Silas does want a word with you though.¡±


    ¡°I imagine he does. I may have broken his face.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t. Close, though,¡± she grinned. ¡°He is missing a digit, however¡ªuntil an augmetic can be found for him, of course.¡±


    ¡°How many did we l¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Cal, don¡¯t worry about that,¡± she shook her head, putting a finger to my lips. ¡°Please, before anything else, you should understand what you¡¯ve lost.¡± I frowned, not understanding. A tear rolled from her right eye, and at that thought, I knew. I only had half my vision, my left half. Seeing my moment of realization, Lucene nodded and bit her lips, moving a hand to my right cheek, where it vanished from my view. ¡°The shrapnel from the orbital strike. Shattered your helmet. Almost cleaved your face off, but Castecael was able to save a lot. Just, not¡­your eye. She and Varnus agree they¡¯ll be able to give you an augmetic, if you want one.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll think about it. Lucene, how many did we¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a question worth asking, Cal,¡± she protested, again interrupting me. ¡°The question of how many you saved, however, is. And 28. Twenty. Eight. You saved us from that wretched thing and the orbital strike that downed it. You saved Zha. Some days ago, before this all began, you were a legend to our retinue, a badass myth to scare the Whiteshields into compliance. Now you¡¯re a hero to us all, every last one of us.¡±


    ¡°I am neither, Lucene. I am an Inquisitor. They need to know it, as do you. How many did we lose, damnit?¡± I demanded.


    Lucene sighed and shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me, Cal. If half your face wasn¡¯t missing, I¡¯d slap the other half from you for talking to me like that,¡± she seethed. Then she took a deep breath in and sighed it out. ¡°Between the Warp-thing and the orbital strike, 33.¡±


    I closed my one eye and heaved in a deeper breath than Lucene had before smashing my remaining arm down upon some medicae equipment to my right. Lucene put a hand to my chest and pressed me into my bedding, then nodded her head down to mine and cried with me. I was tensed up for a time, a mess of a man below the somber and graceful giant I so dearly loved, but found my senses, somehow, to ease up and embrace Lucene with the one arm I still had. She wrapped me in both of hers. And there we remained, for a time, at peace together in a universe of unending war and death. For a time, she was my universe, and I hers. ¡°Thank you,¡± I muttered eventually, to which Lucene replied by making my lips vanish beneath hers.


    When she came up for air, which was far beyond when I had needed it, she at last replied, ¡°No, thank you, Cal. You saved me too, as much from that daemon as my own.¡±


    ¡°I never should have thrust us into that situation,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°But it worked.¡±


    ¡°For less than half of us.¡±


    ¡°Cal,¡± she sighed, and then climbed atop me, her mountainous form squeezing my weakened body under her weight. ¡°With all the boundless love I have for you, and all the respect you are owed for your position and your accolades, shut up. You surviving is a miracle. That 28 of us join you is the God-Emperor¡¯s work at play.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be hard to protest with no air in my lungs,¡± I wheezed from beneath her, slowly being compressed deeper into my medicae¡¯s mattress.


    ¡°Good,¡± she grinned. ¡°Truth be told, I was to fetch Lord Caliman when you awoke. I think we can both agree this pause is more preferable, though, no?¡±


    ¡°Infinitely so, yes,¡± I groaned, embracing her again. And, again, she went in for a kiss. I, at last, melted away in her grasp, knowing nothing beyond that kiss until shortly after it had ended, as she was climbing off me.


    ¡°Do try to catch your breath before I return with Caliman, hm?¡± Lucene suggested, fixing her loosened attire.


    ¡°No guarantees,¡± I admitted, coughing and wheezing.


    Lucene chuckled to herself, then blew me a kiss before bowing with the Sign of the Aquila to me. ¡°I love you, Cal.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I love you too, Lucene,¡± I replied, returning half the Sign of the Aquila, for lack of an arm. Lucene licked her lips over, then winked to me before departing from my private room. As the door to my room slid closed, a hand of bronze¡ªthankfully not a brass Maletek claw¡ªcaught it before it shut completely, and instead pushed the door wide again. Silas strolled into the room, though it was not he holding the door. That, instead, was Mirena, who all but sprinted for and tackled me shortly after Silas had entered. ¡°Somehow, I saw this coming,¡± I sighed, returning Mirena¡¯s hug.


    Mirena said nothing at first, instead burying her head between mine and my left shoulder. But Silas approached me near to my blindspot. ¡°Get jealous of me, huh?¡± he joked, raising a four-fingered hand.


    ¡°Why are you so damn strong?¡± I shot back.


    ¡°Am I?¡±


    ¡°Well you almost beat the shit out of me despite my power armor. Draw your own conclusions,¡± I laughed.


    ¡°My conclusion is that I owe you an¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Silas, you don¡¯t. Not you at the helm, I know that,¡± I assured him. He looked as though he were holding back tears of his own. ¡°Get over here,¡± I said, raising my right hand in my blindspot. He neared and took it, holding me firmly. ¡°Where the frig is my other arm? I can¡¯t hug two people with one damned arm.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not do this solo, into the jaws of the enemy thing again, please, Cal?¡± Mirena spoke at last, head still buried next to mine.


    ¡°I gotta say, sir, I must agree,¡± Silas admitted.


    ¡°Stop frigging calling me sir, damnit. Would it kill you to get on the Cal train, Silas?¡± I smiled. ¡°We¡¯ve waited long enough for you.¡±


    Silas sighed while Mirena sat up on my gut. ¡°Yeah, come on, Scion, can we get a ¡®Cal¡¯ out of you? Just once?¡±


    Silas rolled his eyes and sighed again, then turned to me. ¡°Thank you, Cal. For everything.¡±


    ¡°Yay!¡± Mirena exclaimed, throwing her hands up toward the ceiling. ¡°You did it!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Silas. Thank you,¡± I replied.


    Mirena then looked back and forth between us both, then wiggled her way further up my waist onto my belly. ¡°OK, so, just so everyone is clear, I¡¯m going to give Cal a very, very lengthy kiss. We¡¯re not going to get uncomfortable about that, here, right?¡±


    ¡°I can leave, if¡ª¡± Silas started.


    ¡°No, I may need you to pull her off me if I need air,¡± I replied, and at that, Mirena did exactly as she warned me about, managing to put even Lucene to shame. Silas broke into laughter and moved toward the door, but did not exit, ever content to be my savior if I needed it. I would not, thankfully, but Mirena came close to managing so.


    When she had satisfied herself, she lifted her face from mine, winked to me, pecked my lips once more, and then lowered her mouth to my left ear. ¡°Please stop putting yourself in near-death situations. Seriously. At least bring me along if you must,¡± she whispered to me.


    ¡°Are we still on that?¡± I whispered back.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± she giggled, finding the strength to pull us even closer together. At that, finally, the door opened again, and Silas backed away from our latest guest, wearing a scowl on his face. Our guest returned it upon seeing Mirena and I as we were.


    ¡°My favorite trio,¡± Caliman sighed. ¡°Out. Both of you. You can shag your Inquisitor another time.¡± Neither Silas nor Mirena moved an inch¡ªwell, rather, Mirena did not stop from pulling herself against me. But Silas held his scowl toward Caliman. The Lord Inquisitor turned to my Scion. ¡°Did he punch the hearing out of you?¡±


    ¡°I can hear fine,¡± Silas growled. ¡°We move at his command.¡±


    ¡°And as his senior, you move at mine. Or do you need a return trip to that school of ours?¡± Caliman offered.


    ¡°Go. Both of you,¡± I sighed, shaking my head. Silas looked to me, smiled, nodded, and departed without issue. Mirena rose up over me, put her hands to my head, and pecked my forehead, good eye, and lips with her own before sitting up upon me once more. She looked to Caliman, sneered in disgust for a moment, then hopped off me and left the room as well.


    Caliman watched her as the door closed behind her. ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame you,¡± he admitted in a mutter.


    ¡°I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t hear that, and you¡¯ll pretend I¡¯m not telling you what to do when I tell you to get your eyes off my crew,¡± I growled. Caliman snorted, amused, but nodded nevertheless before stepping near to me, choosing my right side, where I could not see. I turned my head to follow him, ever keeping the one eye I still wielded on my Inquisitorial foe.


    ¡°How¡¯s your head?¡±


    ¡°Do you care?¡±


    ¡°A little,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had a Knight.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had Red Hunters,¡± I returned.


    ¡°Fair. I don¡¯t so much have them as they are willing to answer if called upon. Very reliable. But not in my retinue,¡± Caliman admitted. ¡°I expected you to die. I had prepared an outline for a report of your sacrifice and everything.¡±


    ¡°Disappointed?¡±


    ¡°Far from it. Contrary to what you may believe, Blackgar, I do respect you,¡± Caliman suggested.


    ¡°You drive any psyker you can find into the ground without hesitation, as bloodily and brutally as you can,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°Be that as it may, I do not go around killing Inquisitors very often, and there are many of us who wield talents such as yours. I respect the requirements and appointments of our ordos. There are those who chose to induct you to our ranks, and I will not go out of my way to upend that. You have my word in that regard, for whatever it¡¯s worth to you,¡± he explained, strolling from my right side to stand at the end of my medicae, that I could more easily view him. ¡°More than that, do you have any idea how many Commissar-Inquisitors there are in Ixaniad?¡±


    ¡°I do not,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°There are two. And both are in this room right now,¡± he replied. ¡°I have little intention of filling you in on my military record, suffice to say that it is not unlike yours¡ªvery decorated.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine it ended in the same way,¡± I grunted.


    ¡°No, it did not,¡± he sighed, shaking his head and raising a hand over his eyes in dismay. ¡°Blackgar, you and I always have and always will do what has been required to accomplish the needs of the Imperium. You and I have left thousands of bodies, friend and foe alike, in our wakes. We have and always will make tough calls. I respect you for that. And I respect that you have, at great personal cost, visited the Emperor¡¯s Wrath upon our mutual foe. No, Blackgar, I am not disappointed with your survival. If anything, I am pleased that you are at last living up to Thaddeus Scayn¡¯s expectations of you,¡± he explained, pausing to take a breath. ¡°Go on, then, hit me with that dry humor.¡±


    ¡°No, no, I think I¡¯m loving this,¡± I suggested, making him roll his eyes. ¡°You can keep going.¡±


    ¡°Insufferable as you are, I respect you. If not for that insufferability, I might even have grown to like you.¡±


    ¡°Phew.¡±


    Caliman sighed again. ¡°Can we talk as equals, for once?¡±


    ¡°I thought you were my senior?¡±


    ¡°Alright, fine,¡± Caliman shrugged. ¡°Have it your way. We can go on not-quite hating each other. I didn¡¯t come here to recruit you to my retinue, I¡¯m here to fill you in on the status quo. To that end, I have ordered an Exterminatus of the planet below.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not dying, are they?¡± I sighed.


    Caliman shook his head. ¡°Even the Astartes were unsettled. My fleet will maintain orbit here while the Exterminatus is prepared, shooting down anything that tries to escape. But if these vile beings that once called themselves Inquisitors wish to revive upon this planet eternally, then I see no other choice but to take that planet from them. If that refuses to kill them for good, then at least they will come back to life to immediately die again in the black void of space.¡±


    ¡°You have nothing but enthusiasm from me, for once,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°See? Common ground,¡± Caliman smirked, then shrugged the grin off. ¡°Second order of business: during the fighting, a Fenrisian battlecruiser belonging to the Space Wolves entered orbit. It¡­didn¡¯t do anything. But it¡¯s there, and active; its crew is very much alive. We have no idea why they¡¯re here, and they likely have no idea why we¡¯re here. But both of us are two damned hateful of the other to approach that conversation.¡±


    ¡°You know whose side I¡¯m on for that debate,¡± I assured him.


    ¡°Of course, I did not question that,¡± Caliman defended. ¡°A parley is likely inevitable. We need to know what brought them to this world, and how. Will you want to be part of that conversation?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be my pleasure, sure,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Excellent. We will put it together when you¡¯re on your feet. Our fleet cannot host such a meeting in its current condition anyways, but I am sure as hell not setting foot on their turf. If they can wait, we will have that conversation in a few weeks. If they cannot, then we will need to give chase,¡± Caliman elaborated. I nodded in agreement again. ¡°Third and final thing. I think you will find this one most¡­engaging. You have Iblis Kyle detained aboard this vessel.¡±


    ¡°I do. Emile finally sniff her out?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Funny you should ask. I assume you¡¯ve detained Kyle due to her¡­skillset and what you¡¯ve likely found to be a false identity.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have you to blame for her, do I?¡±


    ¡°You do. Her real name is Seraina Al-Amar. Younger sister of Emile Al-Amar,¡± he explained.


    I sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, allowing Caliman to take smug pleasure in my being outwitted. I shook the feeling off with a return to dry humor. ¡°They don¡¯t look alike.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Emile always commented that her sister was cursed by the genetic lottery,¡± Caliman nodded, agreeing.


    ¡°Cursed?¡±


    ¡°Cursed, in her words, to possess a form that ever tempts the wills of men astray,¡± Caliman explained. ¡°And, in my experience, women too. Seraina is, now, an Inquisitor of her own right within my retinue. I suspect you have an inkling that was not always the case. I also suspect, though this is not a conversation I should have with you, but rather you with her, that it is not what she desires of her future. It is not my place to speak of her past, nor guess at her future. I invite you to ask both of her. Tell her her name, and she will understand that I have given it to you, to give permission to her to speak. That is, of course, if you wish to know. But you¡¯re an Inquisitor. I believe that¡¯s a safe assumption.¡±


    Caliman let that all sit with me for a moment, which I appreciated. When next I looked up to him, I simply asked, ¡°Why?¡± He frowned and turned his head, seeking clarification. ¡°Why did you assign her to me?¡±


    ¡°Your mission was an important one. I wanted to have eyes and ears to understand its progress. But more than that, you are an extremely capable man, Callant Blackgar, and an even more dangerous psyker. Seraina is the one woman I think could put you down and live to serve another day,¡± he answered.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t kill Inquisitors,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°I said I didn¡¯t do so often,¡± he smiled with a shrug. ¡°And I like to cover all possibilities. I no longer consider the need for her to kill you a possibility. So congrats, you¡¯re off the hook. For now. Treasure it,¡± he suggested. ¡°Talk to her. She likes you. Not in the way that¡­damnable pilot of yours does. But in her own way, she likes you. Talk to her. You will not meet another like her, if you¡¯re lucky,¡± he chuckled.


    ¡°Is that all, Caliman?¡± I sighed, about at my wit¡¯s end with his games.


    ¡°Yes it is, Blackgar,¡± he confirmed. ¡°Shall I leave you to your recovery?¡±


    ¡°Please. And if Lucene is outside, send her in,¡± I asked of him. He nodded, and as Lucene had, bowed to me with the Sign of the Aquila before departing. Lucene entered the room shortly after him, grin widening as she entered. ¡°Love, trust me, as much as I¡¯d like to continue where we left off, I instead have a request of you.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Cal, how may I assist?¡± she asked, still grinning.


    ¡°Fetch me Bliss Carmichael. I would speak with her. Alone.¡±

 Chapter 59 - Bliss

    Grand Cruisers being what they were, I had several hours to myself before my next visitor arrived. Coldbreed was just that large, and the cell block just that far away from the medicae station. That gave me some time to recover and catch my breath from having been buried under Lucene and Mirena alike. Eventually, however, my requested visitor did arrive, and when she made her appearance, she was still in handcuffs. I did not expect those could hold her if she sought freedom, but when she entered my room I sent my psykana to vaporize her bindings all the same. She looked at her newly-free wrists for a moment, still stepping into my room, after which she returned to looking me over and finally saw the damage. ¡°Throne, Callant, are you alright?¡± Bliss asked, racing up to my right side and coddling my head in her hands at once.


    ¡°I will be,¡± I replied, and found myself parched. I then gestured to a cup of water I had poured earlier, which she now stood in the way of. ¡°Would you mind?¡± I grunted. She helped my drink to me, and I took a long sip from it before setting it back down.


    ¡°There was such shooting amidships, you went to Amnes Minoris, didn¡¯t you?¡± she asked, catching up. I nodded with a sigh. ¡°I should have been down there with you, I¡¯m so sorry, this is my fault.¡±


    ¡°In what way could my current condition possibly be your fault?¡± I asked, breaking into my first real laugh all day. The thought was absurd to me.


    ¡°Had I maintained my cover on Aerialon¡ª¡±


    ¡°Had you maintained your cover on Aerialon, I would likely have died there,¡± I interjected. ¡°What, if I had not perceived of the wrongness about you and let you accompany me to Amnes Minoris, things would have changed? Perhaps. But I do not think I would have gotten off Aerialon had you not done what you did.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Callant, you can¡¯t understand,¡± she sighed, dropping her head to my chest. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, so, so sorry.¡±


    ¡°Then help me understand, Seraina,¡± I replied, and as her face rose to mine, it did so with dread and fear. ¡°Caliman said you¡¯d cooperate with that. Or has he lied to me and that¡¯s the line to get you to kill me?¡±


    ¡°Throne, Callant, I would never!¡± she exclaimed, tossing her hands over her mouth and shaking her head.


    ¡°That was a possible objective for you, wasn¡¯t it? Caliman told me as such,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°He¡­I¡­Throne, this is all frigged up now,¡± she sighed, flustered, and joined me on my medicae unit, snuggling against my right side, under my remaining arm.


    ¡°What is it with women getting up here with me?¡± I frowned. ¡°This unit was not made for more than one person at a time.¡±


    At that, finally, a smile crept upon her face. ¡°You are a very likeable person, Callant Blackgar. That might have something to do with it.¡±


    ¡°Then you and I share a curse, as I understand it,¡± I sighed, though she frowned, not quite getting my joke. ¡°Caliman told me your sister says you were cursed with winning the genetic lottery,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Ah. Yes, that. So you know my last name, too,¡± she nodded. ¡°What do you think of them?¡±


    ¡°Your last names? Your real retinue?¡± I asked. The second question seemed to hurt her, deeply, but both suggestions were incorrect.


    ¡°No, no, them,¡± she corrected, and looked to her chest.


    ¡°Ah,¡± I sighed, nodding. ¡°I think you are a very beautiful person, Seraina, with or without them. They do not betray that beauty.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Thank you, Callant,¡± she giggled, and snuggled up against me even closer. ¡°What else has Caliman told you? Did he tell you my¡­err¡­past?¡±


    ¡°He told me you are an Inquisitor like your sister, but were not always so. He told me I should ask you for your past, and your intended future, if you¡¯re willing to share them with me,¡± I explained. She nodded, but said nothing in reply for a few moments. ¡°You don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to,¡± I assured her.


    ¡°I do want to. I just don¡¯t know where to start. I think¡­at the end. At the future. Then I¡¯ll speak of the past. Callant Blackgar, I wish to transfer to your service. Permanently. For real, this time,¡± she stated, then looked up to my face, wincing at the sight of me even still.


    ¡°I have to ask why, of course,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯re two reasons. One is an easily-confused but entirely-faithful Whiteshield who is just the cutest little guy I¡¯ve ever met,¡± she answered, giggling to herself, referring to Jack Harr. ¡°The other reason is you. I like you. A lot. You¡¯re the first man, no, the first Inquisitor¡­still no. The first person I¡¯ve ever met, Jack included, who from our first meeting to our last has spent their entire time looking at my face and not my chest.¡±


    ¡°I hate to rain on your parade, but if you really think that¡¯s true, you are not as observant as I thought you were,¡± I admitted. She blushed and blurted out a laugh, then shrugged it off all the same.


    ¡°Fine. Same sentence, but you¡¯re the first one to not be distracted by my body in conversation. Throne, my chest even distracted Zha once! Can you imagine? A savant! I pressed her on it, and she stammered out a gibberish response about calculating their volume based on their apparent curvature. But not you. I¡¯ve never had that experience with you, Callant,¡± she explained, still laughing about Zha. ¡°More than your apparent lack of perversion, Callant, is the fact that of the myriad Inquisitors I¡¯ve had the misfortune of meeting, you are one of the very few genuinely good ones. Not simply good in the sense that you treat your Agents like people and care for them very much¡ªwhich you do, and I admire you for that¡ªbut you¡¯re good at what you do. Extremely so. Caliman is¡­blunt. Accomplished, capable, do not get me wrong about him, but when he puts his mind to a task and a strategy, there is not much else that goes on between his furrowed brow and the backside of his skull. But you, no, you adapt. You think. You can kill in ways Caliman cannot even dream of, and not simply because you are a psyker. You are as capable a soldier as you are a good person, and you are a very, very good person. Caliman is¡­frankly, neither.¡±


    ¡°Well you¡¯ve sold me on this conversation,¡± I agreed, earning another unrepressed laugh from her. At last, someone who appreciated my dry humor. ¡°OK, so I¡¯m an awesome guy who has spent at least some time looking at your face when we talk. And I¡¯m much better than Caliman in every way that matters. So sure, I can understand the transfer request. But who am I getting out of it?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± she nodded, and then turned away from me to look to the ceiling, still keeping herself snug under my right arm. ¡°Do you want the life story? Or, just the facts, hard and fast?¡±


    ¡°I like having some idea of who my Agents are, deep down, and I¡¯ve tried and failed to reach into your head for that. I¡¯ll take your story now, Seraina,¡± I replied.


    She nodded, sighed, and paused to reach her hands above us both. She looked them over, and I recognized the action. She was studying them as Silas would a new weapon, or as Varnus would analyze forbidden tech. I already knew her to be skilled in ways well in excess of my ability to understand. That she was equally as amazed¡ªperhaps appalled¡ªby her abilities did not surprise me. ¡°Emile and I were thrust into the Schola Progenium at a very young age, probably not unlike yourself, or Lucene, or Silas. Emile demonstrated an immediate aptitude for intellectual deduction and resilience to corruption from the Imperial Creed. She was a model Inquisitor in the making, being sidelined onto the path of an Interrogator for Lord Caliman at the mere age of sixteen. I, however, had a more successful but much, much bloodier path ahead of me. I was earmarked for the Ordo Tempestus at a much younger age than Emile began her training as an Interrogator. I could have been a Tempestus Scion like Silas, or a Commissar like you, except I was, as a young girl, too capable for their ranks even then. None of my peers could match me, not even those of vast seniority. Eventually, word of my abilities reached very high places, and a scout for a¡­powerful agency came to test me.


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    ¡°It was a brutal test, the sort of thing one of two people could design: a sadist, or someone who needed to know they were recruiting only the best possible individuals. When I was twelve years old, I was assaulted, in the middle of the night, by three fully-armored and armed Tempestus Scions. Two grown men and a grown woman, heroes of the Imperium in their own rights; they were my test. And I killed all three in fourteen seconds, flat. I still wonder what their names were. So there I was, a twelve year old girl, covered in the blood of heroes, surrounded by carapace-armored corpses of my own making, and approached by a very impressed, extremely powerful individual. From then on, I was no longer a member of the Ordo Tempestus. Instead, I became a recruit of the Officio Assassinorum, more specifically the Callidus Temple.


    ¡°And I was exceptional, even among their ranks. I understand Lucene has felled an Eversor and Silas a Vindicare. Impressive feats. But an Eversor is an agent of pure, thoughtless destruction and a Vindicare one that hides behind their ranged superiority. Both can be exploited. We in Callidus are infiltrators first, yes, but fighters, through and through, trained to be able to pose as those we were pretending to be. We learned every fighting style imaginable, anything ever learned by mankind, and some¡­not. Aeldari. Drukhari. Kroot. I did not specialize in these, but I did not need to; I was a natural with all manners of murder, much to the envy of many of my peers. But unlike those peers, I had one weakness, a flaw that was only so by nature of its fatal implications. A flaw that brought me here, eventually, to you,¡± she explained, and looked up to me. I nodded, listening intently, and she giggled. I was, as she hoped, looking at her face, and not her chest.


    She spoke the rest of her story to my face, no longer shying away from me. ¡°My body could not process polymorphine, the drug the Callidus Temple employs to shapeshift its agents into the forms required to get near to their targets. I would change, yes, but the return to my natural body¡ªthis one¡ªruined me internally. A collapsed lung. A ruptured kidney. Throne, I¡¯m not capable of bearing children anymore, due to my body¡¯s rejection of the drug. Yet still, I served the Temple. I was happy to die doing what Terra needed of me, excruciating though it was, and the Temple was not much concerned with the physical wellbeing of their best agent since M¡¯Shen, so long as she¡ªI¡ªgot the job done. Which I always did. But I was dying. I knew that with surety.


    ¡°I sent word by astropath to Emile of my destined fate. I did not do so wanting to be saved from it, I just felt she should know that her sister was soon to be deceased. But it turned out Emile was an Inquisitor by then, and that she could ask a favor of a man quite capable of pulling strings, such as a Lord Inquisitor. With my reluctant¡ªbut eventually convinced¡ªconsent, I retired from the Callidus Temple to join the Inquisition, serving at first as muscle for Caliman before becoming an Inquisitor like my sister. I could have left for my own, then, and forged my own path, but I did not want to part ways with those that saved my life. However, perhaps a decade after I became an Inquisitor, Hestia Majoris happened. Your report followed, and I¡­grew interested. Noting that interest, and that you were building a team to follow up on the Phaenonite cell, Caliman tasked me to you. And, well, here we are. Any questions?¡±


    ¡°Uh, well, tons,¡± I stammered, and she managed yet another laugh. ¡°So, that Whiteshield is¡­,¡± I started, wrapping my head around the current situation.


    ¡°Romantically in love and sleeping with the deadliest woman in the galaxy? Yes,¡± she answered, laughing some more. ¡°I treat him well. Mostly.¡±


    ¡°Well enough for him to love you, truly,¡± I nodded in agreement. ¡°You, um, oh gosh, where do I begin,¡± I sighed, still taking the news of the day in. ¡°OK, we¡¯ve gone over why you want to join my retinue, but why do you want to leave Caliman¡¯s? He saved you, your sister saved you.¡±


    Seraina shrugged it off. ¡°Yes, they did. And I will be forever grateful to them for that. But not beholden to them. I make my own choices, and my sister makes hers. I do not intend to follow in her shadow for my entire life, even if shadows are as I was taught to remain by Callidus. I intend to grow to be something more than I was in Callidus or could be behind her.¡±


    ¡°You look up to her greatly,¡± I noted.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re tripped up on Caliman quite a bit, which is understandable¡ªhe does, as a blunt instrument does, force his way into things. But my sister is the real deal. She will take his place as Lord Inquisitor one day, of that I have no doubt. Her accomplishments may be obscured behind Caliman¡¯s, but she has already managed well more than perhaps even you will in your lifetime. Yes, I cannot put to words my respect for her. But I need to get out from behind all of that, I need to make my own accomplishments that mean something without her involvement,¡± she explained, and I nodded, understanding at last. ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°What am I to you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± My arm still wrapped around her¡ªby her own doing¡ªI raised my hand and gestured to her body first, then to mine, noting the intimacy she had established between us. ¡°Oh. Right. Someone I have come to treasure dearly, as not merely a good man¡ªas we¡¯ve previously established¡ªbut also as a man who can give me the space to succeed on my own. I think, in a way, I do love you. But not the way Mirena and Lucene love you, or in the way I love Jack. Having said that, if you wanted to¡­not that I¡¯m saying we should, but¡­I¡¯m not inherently opposed to finding out how we¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m married to Lucene, and don¡¯t intend to break vows already stressed by Mirena,¡± I reminded her.


    ¡°Right. Fair. Very admirable of you. But pity, I have heard from both of them that nights with you are quite pleasurable,¡± she giggled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the implication that you¡¯re having these sorts of talks with my current and former lovers,¡± I frowned. Her giggle turned into a greater laugh than any that had yet occurred, making her voice crack and even generate tears in her eyes.


    When she had settled, she turned to me¡ªnaturally red eyes reddened further from her cries of laughter¡ªand opened her mouth to reply. But she could not manage more than another chuckle before turning away. At last, she suggested, ¡°Close friends?¡±


    ¡°I think my marriage can survive that,¡± I admitted. ¡°So, moving on, we searched your quarters when we detained you.¡±


    ¡°You find anything of interest?¡± she asked with a grin, already knowing the answer.


    ¡°As empty as I had psychically found your head to be,¡± I smiled.


    ¡°Still an insult, by the way,¡± she added. ¡°But yes, my equipment¡ªof which I do still possess much of my tools from the Temple¡ªis stashed elsewhere, safely, on your ship. I¡¯ll fetch it and produce it before you if you wish.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more interested in learning your hiding spots.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well you¡¯re not getting those, and as an Inquisitor myself, I actually can refuse you,¡± she giggled. ¡°Do you intend to use me as a Callidus Assassin, were you to accept me?¡±


    ¡°Would you mind?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer.¡±


    ¡°I may,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°I would not mind, if you asked. But I would hope it would not be my only fate.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°Won¡¯t be? Does that mean you¡¯re OK with my transfer?¡± she asked. I sighed and cursed to myself, earning yet another giggle from her, then nodded to her in silence. ¡°Thank you, Callant,¡± she whispered, and then leaned over me and kissed my left cheek, as the right one was still covered in bandages and gauze. ¡°I won¡¯t do that often, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°Pity,¡± I admitted, producing a grin from us both. ¡°Do you have any requests while you¡¯re here? I had asked what it would take to procure Mirena for my service. I can¡¯t say I want to disappoint one with your talents, either.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do. Call me Bliss, please. I would like to assume that identity as my own. Ignorance of my past is¡­Bliss,¡± she suggested. I nodded. ¡°Second, do not assume there is ever a task I cannot handle. If you need something done and do not have other Agents you can trust to complete it, ask me without hesitation. I will not disappoint.¡±


    I nodded and allowed a scoffing laugh of my own. ¡°Somehow, I think that is deeply true,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°OK, third and final request. Jack Harr has a secret he is keeping from me. I want you to tell me what it is.¡±


    ¡°Why do you assume I know it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. But I assume you can figure it out.¡±


    ¡°Bliss, I am also an Inquisitor, which means I can say no to you.¡±


    ¡°And will you, even if it would cost me my service? A Callidus Assassin versus the privacy of a Whiteshield Guardsman?¡± she frowned, crossing her arms. But I saw through the ruse, which perhaps diminished the value of her test.


    ¡°Yes. Not for you. If he wants to tell you, he will, just as I had no intention of forcing your identity from you,¡± I replied.


    She smiled and raised a hand to my face. ¡°Good. And that¡¯s why I want to be here. We¡¯re not merely assets to you, not simply tools of named trades for specific jobs. We have our lives, and you allow that. Hm. Caliman does not.¡±


    ¡°Yes, he¡¯s a bit of an ass, isn¡¯t he?¡± I smiled. ¡°There are some¡­Fenrisians in the system. Caliman wants to hold a parley with them with my presence, when I recover. There are few I know who have the skillset to turn Astartes to mincemeat; would you accompany me for that meeting?¡±


    She nodded eagerly. ¡°It would be my pleasure, Callant. Just tell me when.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully not too soon; I¡¯ve had enough visitors as of late.¡±

 Chapter 60 - Fenris

    ¡°I must admit, sir, having them here may not be the best of ideas,¡± I warned Caliman, gesturing with my walking stick to the Red Hunters that flanked us. I was only barely on my feet at that point, and had not yet taken an augmetic eye; I was, instead, trying out an eyepatch and seeing how I liked it. After a pair of weeks, I was getting used to it, but worried about the tactical implications of only possessing half my vision.


    ¡°Do you have a better contingency?¡± Caliman growled, arms crossed. I do not think he was annoyed by my objection, but was most definitely on edge from the guests approaching our war room, where we resided.


    I shrugged. ¡°We exist,¡± I offered, gesturing to myself and Bliss, who stood to my side opposite my stick.


    ¡°And you killed naked puppets, Blackgar, not the real thing. Real Astartes are another matter entirely, and their choice of attire is not so easily penetrated,¡± Caliman seethed.


    ¡°True though both assertions are, I was however under the impression that these Wolves often did not don helmets, that they may instead bare fangs,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Perhaps we may be so lucky, then, to have you with us,¡± Caliman grumbled.


    I shrugged. ¡°You asked me here, and now that I¡¯m present I¡¯m glad you did. I don¡¯t think you possess a great strength for politics, Lord Caliman.¡±


    ¡°In that regard, I fear you may be correct. Do you wish to lead conversations, then?¡±


    ¡°¡®Wish to¡¯ and ¡®believe I should¡¯ are very different things, sir,¡± I frowned. Caliman nodded in agreement.


    ¡°No one will get to you while I¡¯m here, Callant,¡± Bliss reassured me.


    ¡°Great, another one in your harem,¡± Caliman muttered to me.


    ¡°He¡¯s married and I have a boyfriend!¡± Bliss hissed in return. I stayed silent, happy to let other Inquisitors stick it to Caliman, and also because I heard marching.


    As the high-pressure, mechanized footfalls drew closer, I observed, ¡°At least I don¡¯t hear screaming and shooting. Yet.¡±


    ¡°Day¡¯s still young,¡± Caliman growled. ¡°Blackgar, if your dry wit gets me killed today, I will be most displeased in the afterlife.¡±


    ¡°As opposed to your jolly nature in life?¡± I grunted, getting a grin from Bliss. Caliman simmered in place, but did not reply. Good enough. ¡°Should we survive, Bliss, you¡¯ll have to tell me how and where an Astartes looks at you. I¡¯m curious.¡± She nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet the neck,¡± Caliman suggested.


    It was then that our guests arrived. Three titans of iron-grey power armor, adorned in ceremonial regalia and great pelts of beasts unimaginable, stepped into the room. As I suggested, each of the three were without helmets, revealing their barbarous, fur-covered heads, and, upon seeing us and our backdrop of Red Hunters, their snarling fangs. Where the skulls of these Astartes may not have had fur, they instead had ample augmetics, heavy cybernetic designs that suggested these were no simple Astartes, if there even was such a thing to begin with. I did not know the Space Wolves very well, but I knew of the existence of their Wulfen, and did not believe these three were so savage, though that may have only worsened our chances with them.


    ¡°Welcome, Astartes, to our fleet. I am Lord Inquisitor Caliman, joined by Inquisitors Callant Blackgar and Seraina Al-Amar, each of us from the Ordo Hereticus, as well as Sergeant Santinus Astal, Red Hunters 3<sup>rd</sup> Company, 2<sup>nd</sup> Tactical Squad,¡± Caliman greeted our guests. ¡°To whom do we speak?¡±


    The apparent leader of the trio, only identifiable to me as such due to their nearer proximity to us, spoke up, still snarling at us and clearly not happy with his audience. ¡°I am Ingvald Cloudseeker, of the 1<sup>st</sup> Grey Hunter Pack of Egil Iron Wolf¡¯s Ironwolves,¡± he answered, immediately demonstrating his Company¡¯s¡ªno, his Legion¡¯s¡ªrejection of the Codex Astartes. ¡°I am joined by Grey Hunters Freyor Draugrpelt and Skard Moonfist, also of Egil Iron Wolf¡¯s Great Company, also of the 1<sup>st</sup> Pack. We answer to your summons of our own curiosity¡ªwhat brings you to this world, and why have you ravaged it so?¡±


    ¡°Why are you interested?¡± I asked in return, taking a step forward.


    ¡°I¡¯ll not answer the arrogant men of pain and misery until I know why they are here,¡± Ingvald replied, stepping up to me likewise and looking down on me. I was not intimidated, amazingly; was it Bliss¡¯s presence that helped me keep my cool, or had I simply lost the nerve to be intimidated after the events on the surface? To this day, I do not know.


    ¡°We are here to do as we do best: kill traitors. Why are you here?¡± Freyor and Skard managed a laugh from behind their Packmate, and Skard snarled something in response. ¡°Something funny?¡±


    ¡°I believe they find your response quite humorous, yes. What you do best, little man, appears to be losing limbs, or if not that, then murdering innocents, as is the nature of your ordos,¡± Ingvald replied, himself snorting a laugh.


    ¡°And what are you the best at? Drinking?¡± I suggested. Ingvald sneered for a moment, but was held back by another break in the composure of his allies, each of whom managed another laugh. Ingvald turned to scowl at them, and then to me. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s address the kraken in the room, hm?¡± I offered, aware that they hunted such things on Fenris. ¡°I am not Ghesmei Kysnaros, and the Months of Shame are long past.¡±


    ¡°You are not Kysnaros, you are correct. He was taller. Though while you appear to have lost an arm, he has deservedly lost his head,¡± Ingvald replied. ¡°We do not call them the Months of Shame. That is the phrase those of our psychic brethren under your dreaded heel use. You may not be Kysnaros, the fool, but your ordos are as they have always sought: a society unchanging. We do not imagine that behind the deceit of your words lies a man any greater than the vermin Great Wolf Grimnar beheaded.¡±


    ¡°If that were true, why would you ask questions of us to begin with?¡± Bliss suggested. ¡°If all we¡¯ll do is lie to you, why seek our truths?¡±


    ¡°Because, young lady, your lies speak volumes enough,¡± Freyor answered. Ingvald and Skard nodded in assent. ¡°What traitors lay upon that world down there, then?¡±


    ¡°The undying kind,¡± I answered with a shrug. ¡°And if you believe that to be a lie, you are welcome to see for yourself. Should you find a way to kill them for good, you¡¯d be doing us and the Imperium of Man a favor.¡±


    ¡°That is less appealing when it benefits you,¡± Ingvald growled. ¡°I will not have my brothers risk their lives in your fight, especially not while your fleet hangs overhead, ready to pick them apart. You fight and lose your own battles.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ve already won that one,¡± I shrugged again. ¡°Without you. All that remains upon that world are undying freaks in ruins of ash, scrambling to figure out how to get off their dreadful planet and infest the Sector once more. So, that in mind, what brings you here?¡±


    Ingvald seethed toward me for a bit longer, and then admitted, ¡°We have a prisoner that guided us here.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


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    ¡°Oh what, runt?¡±


    ¡°What sort of prisoner? And why did what they say interest you?¡±


    Ingvald made a low growling sound, and then backed away from me, joining his brothers near to the entrance¡ªor exit¡ªof the room. ¡°A Heretek of the Dark Mechanicum in service to the baleful Iron Warriors. He is mostly mad, as one may expect.¡±


    ¡°Why do we answer them, Brother?¡± Freyor asked of Ingvald.


    Ingvald turned to his Brother and frowned. ¡°When those long Months began, centuries ago, on account of the fool Kysnaros, Great Grimnar fought by not fighting. It was always ever the dreaded Inquisition that pulled the trigger on others, until the time came to defend Fenris from their malice,¡± Ingvald answered before turning back to us. ¡°This Heretek spoke of allies on this world. We came to end them, as you appear to have. We have little more use for this prisoner. Do you want them?¡±


    ¡°Are you offering?¡± Caliman asked.


    ¡°I am offering to spare us the Bolt, that we may use it in glorious battle rather than in executing vermin,¡± Ingvald growled.


    ¡°We will unburden you of your prisoner, that we may interrogate them further,¡± Caliman suggested.


    ¡°How generous,¡± Ingvald answered. ¡°We will send them by shuttle. You will refuel and return the shuttle.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t tell¡ª¡± Caliman objected.


    ¡°Deal,¡± I agreed.


    Ingvald snorted and pointed a claw toward me. ¡°Perhaps you are not Kysnaros, then. Explains why your head is still on your shoulders. Tell me, have you had encounters with the Iron Warriors before? You showed particular interest.¡±


    ¡°Another Heretek, some decades ago. We know not what their intentions are, but they are interested in this Sector,¡± I answered.


    ¡°I can tell you their intentions: they intend to siege this Sector, and kill any Imperial forces in their way. They are looking for something here and will not relent until they find it,¡± Ingvald replied.


    ¡°And you know all of this but were not going to tell us?¡± Bliss objected.


    ¡°We would have warned Battlefleet Ixaniad. But no, not you,¡± Ingvald admitted with a grin. ¡°Not the Inquisition. You shouldn¡¯t need to rely on Wolves for such insight.¡±


    ¡°And where will you be when they siege Ixaniad, then?¡± Caliman seethed.


    ¡°Not here. Jaegetri, just outside your Sector. It is there that our mutual foe resides. We will kill their command while their warships kill you,¡± Ingvald chuckled. ¡°If you want more, ask the Heretek. Assuming he¡¯s still sane enough to get any real intel out of. We have places to be, battles to fight, monsters to hunt.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s been real pleasant getting to know you,¡± I lied.


    Ingvald snorted again. ¡°Likewise. Should you survive your impending slaughter, don¡¯t get in our way on Jaegetri. We won¡¯t have time for your kind of folly there, either.¡± Without further word¡ªsave for impatient snarls¡ªand with no honorable courtesy, the trio of Wolves departed, leaving us with our own silent Red Hunters.


    ¡°Neck,¡± Bliss muttered.


    ¡°Thought so,¡± Caliman sighed. ¡°You lot, let¡¯s go see to the acquisition of a new prisoner,¡± he ordered to the Red Hunters, and led them from the room.


    ¡°And also chest,¡± Bliss added when Caliman was gone, grinning. I smiled as well. ¡°May I walk you to your quarters?¡±


    ¡°Yes please, thanks, Bliss,¡± I agreed, taking her hand again and letting her help me out.


    ***


    ¡°Antonax Reth-07, was it? We have procured you from those damnable Wolves. We represent the Inquisition¡ªor, rather, your Inquisition,¡± Bliss explained to our newfound Heretek, sitting across from the fidgeting, twitchy individual who was more scrap heap than man. The interrogations the Wolves had conducted on Antonax had taken a number on the Heretek, which did not bother me any, other than that it may make the extraction of further information more difficult.


    Bliss was joined by Zha Trantos and Ramiel Kanius, the Arbites Regulator I had picked up from Skardak Tertium. For the time being, Kanius was looking the part of muscle, ever a man clad in ceramite, standing with his arms crossed behind my two Inquisitorial Agents. I, meanwhile, watched the interrogation from behind a one-way mirror, joined by Caliman and Massino Varnus. We could not chance our presence being identifiable by the enemy, but the likelihood the Heretek knew Zha or Bliss was low. Kanius objected, at first, to posing as our traitor-Inquisitor ilk, but went along with the idea when Lord Caliman approved. I could not fault the Arbites of that; I would have expected the same objection from Hans Okustin, were he still with me, and was surprised that Caliman had agreed with my approach in the first place.


    ¡°Lies, oh lovingly hateful lies!¡ªthe sun sets under bloodied seas¡ªwhere did Vaktez go?¡± Antonax replied in a pool of gibberish. Bliss and Zha looked to each other.


    +Continue as you would, for now,+ I messaged them both.


    ¡°Antonax, if you¡¯re in there, we need to speak with you on your operations with our organization. Who was your point of contact with us? The Wolves have created turmoil for more than merely you and we need to get to the bottom of it,¡± Zha insisted.


    ¡°Oh, dear Omnissiah, I am sorry¡ªsorry? Why would I be sorry?¡± Antonax answered, perhaps talking to himself. ¡°Sorrow is for the flesh. Oh, they did massacre the flesh.¡±


    ¡°Who did? The Wolves?¡±


    ¡°No, Lunacius, on Vaktez. Where did Vaktez go?¡± Antonax half-replied, perhaps giving us our first direct answer to a question, even if it appeared irrelevant. ¡°The God-Emperor did not see Vaktez when it fell. Will He see it when They return?¡±


    ¡°Antonax, this is very important. Who was your contact with our cell?¡± Bliss pressed.


    ¡°My, what fine flesh you have. What great fangs they had. Is the tunnel finished?¡±


    +Tell him it was damaged.+


    ¡°The tunnel was damaged. We need to know who your contact was with our organization, Antonax,¡± Bliss repeated.


    ¡°The egotist. Gerhart,¡± Antonax answered. Progress, at last.


    ¡°Gerhart Heirene was your contact? And you were working on the tunnel with Heirene?¡± Zha suggested.


    ¡°The tunnel was of their making, with cursory¡ªcompulsory!¡ªinput from this unit¡ªthat¡¯s me! Operational regulations returning. Self consciousness reasserting. Damage to critical infrastructure: substantive. 38% of mental faculties withstanding.¡±


    +Brace yourselves, should 38% prove enough to see through our ruse.+


    ¡°Self-query: what triggered recovery of internal monologue? Hypothesis: presence of allied operatives eased physiological tensor barriers. Yes, Gerhart Heirene was my contact, but it is an inaccuracy to suggest I worked with that egotist,¡± Antonax explained.


    +Never mind.+


    ¡°So Heirene was your contact with our organization, but you worked with someone else. Who?¡± Zha asked.


    ¡°Your boss.¡±


    ¡°Name?¡±


    ¡°Test identified. Comprehension: Understandable given the presence of Wolves. Answer: No name. That is not how they do things,¡± Antonax half-answered.


    Disappointing though that response was, Bliss went with it. ¡°Correct. And what was your project with the boss?¡±


    ¡°I was Magos for the construction of the Arctoros 5 fortress, from its functionality to its defenses,¡± Antonax replied. ¡°Those I represent are very interested in both projects, and in providing suitable geneseed if your organization wishes to expend resources in attempting the Astartes operation again.¡±


    ¡°Noted. The offer is appreciated, but not at this time,¡± Bliss answered. ¡°Now, who is your CO within your own organization?¡±


    ¡°Captain Valeran Mortoc, who answers to Warsmith Madrydon Drados, Commander of the Shatter Corps,¡± Antonax reported, unwittingly providing us with two names we would soon come to know all too well. ¡°You mentioned the tunnel was damaged. How severely?¡±


    ¡°Inoperably, but not irreparably,¡± she lied.


    ¡°Suboptimal, but a relief all the same,¡± Antonax admitted.


    ¡°Antonax, we won¡¯t mince words. We believe you gave information to the Wolves of our location, which resulted in this catastrophe. We are willing to look past that in the interests of preserving our relationship with your organization, but we need to know exactly what you told to whom. We need a grasp on what operations may be compromised,¡± Zha explained.


    ¡°Uniquely rational. Ironic, for not only is your flesh superior in form to Gerhart¡¯s, but the function appears to be as well. You would be remarkable subjects for upgrades, if you wished,¡± Antonax offered. Bliss cleared her throat in a grunt, and Kanius stepped forward once, flexing his presence more obviously. ¡°Fair. Yes, I can share such details. Forgive me further if the recollection is spotty. Reduced efficacy of mental faculties may have damaged memory subsectors.¡±


    ¡°Give us what you can, Antonax,¡± Bliss nodded.


    +Excellent.+


    With their interrogation now turned into a font of information extraction, I turned to Caliman, on my left. ¡°Arctoros 5,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Indeed. Seems you have new marching orders, if we¡¯re to believe that¡¯s where their cell leader is,¡± Caliman agreed.


    ¡°And you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Exterminatus is already in motion, but will take time. I must remain here to see it through, and we cannot waste time in following up on that intel. If Amnes Minoris contacts their boss before we can get there, the complications may be innumerable,¡± Caliman explained.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± I nodded. I then turned around to face Varnus, who had previously been on my right. ¡°And you have two options, dear Techsorcist. Ensure the coherent destruction of this world, or accompany me to the next for investigation and dissection.¡±


    ¡°A choice of company between you, Inquisitor Blackgar, and the dim prospects of another is not much of a choice,¡± Varnus replied.


    ¡°Throne help you both,¡± Caliman growled.

 Chapter 61 - Fortress

    Traveling from orbit over Amnes Minoris to Arctoros 5 took two weeks, a journey through the dreaded Warp being, as ever, unpredictable; ours was shorter than anticipated, which was a good thing in trying to reach the world before news of Amnes Minoris could, though there was still no guarantee of that. Once there, highlevel scans of the surface went underway; the Heretek prisoner from the Space Wolves company had described our target as a ¡®fortress¡¯ and I had little intention of treating it as anything short of that. Unfortunately, surface scans revealed little. We did get a good idea of where the ¡®fortress¡¯ in question was, but only by revealing little else across the barren tundra of the planet¡¯s surface save for an anomalous ¡®warp storm¡¯ not unlike that which the Maletek Stalker appeared to emanate from above. I prayed to Blessed Terra and the Holy Throne that the Phaenonites had not conjured a second such depravity. With no visual of the fortress itself, it would have been unwise and likely wasteful to begin a blind orbital bombardment, especially when I still wanted to interrogate someone on the inside to ensure we cut off the head of this Phaenonite cell once and for all.


    What we could discern was that the tactical layout of the fortress was like that of Avrodam Prareus¡¯s station on Canicus. Several ¡®forward detachments¡¯ dotted the surrounding area around the warp storm where we suspected our target laid. Unlike with the Canicus operation, I did not feel we had the time to waste with a covert operation in injecting Bliss amidst their ranks¡ªif that was even possible to begin with given what may have been a tighter-security planet. No, I felt the best option available to us was to hit the forward detachments as hard and as fast as possible in simultaneity to limit the response time and awareness of the main fortress. Yet again, while an orbital strike would have been both unnecessarily hard and overwhelmingly fast, it was far from subtle, and would have alerted the main fortress of our presence and attack all the same.


    No, putting boots on the ground seemed to be a tactical inevitability, unfortunately.


    Thankfully, I had surrounded myself with a number of very capable individuals for such a job. With the goal being to eliminate the forward detachments quietly, Bliss volunteered to take one on her own, believing in her abilities to infiltrate and dismantle their operational effectiveness regardless of the number of bodies they may have featured. I did not disagree, and assented with her request to take Jack Harr as her spotter. Better to keep the two together than longing for each other when apart.


    Luther also believed he and his Harakoni could get the drop on a trio of forward detachments, and Gradshi likewise felt he and a small contingent of psykers could make short work of a handful more. I was not about to get in the way of the way they did things; the flexibility of their autonomy was always the point of why I had appointed them to their roles. Not unsurprisingly, Galen volunteered himself and the Eximus Convictor to flatten the front door of the main fortress when the forward detachments had fallen, and I agreed to follow suit from the opposite side of his approach, deploying with Silas, Lucene, her Sisters, Varnus, a few of his fellow techpriests, and my own Crusader duo. Our plan was to converge upon and pincer the main fortress from all sides all at once.


    Of course, things rarely go according to plan.


    Especially where the Warp was concerned.


    ***


    The forward detachments fell with relative ease, though with some variance, and even having said the former, they were either well prepared enough or otherwise knew we were coming to put up notable resistance. It did not matter. There is little that they could have wielded against my front of combined units, or the overwhelming psykana levied by Gradshi¡¯s, or the shock and awe offered by Luther¡¯s Harakoni. Likewise, an undercover Callidus Assassin would have made short work of most forms of opposition in the galaxy, and Bliss continued to claim she was better than most of her ilk; she had not given me reason to disagree yet.


    Where things went awry was in the siege of the main ¡®fortress¡¯ to follow. As our ground forces converged upon the ¡®fortress,¡¯ each reported of something different. My detachment saw an abandoned and repurposed Schola, perhaps formerly of the Progenium, but monolithic and unmistakable all the same, the twin-headed eagle of the Aquila boldly protruding from the structure¡¯s front. It would have taken us days to explore and fully clear out such a structure. As to be expected, a number of artillery and anti-air hardpoints were embedded throughout the structure¡¯s exterior.


    However, this Schola was not viewed by all. Gradshi¡¯s detachment did see a Schola, but it was not the one mine witnessed; his was identifiably of the Scholastica Psykana. Most importantly, the weapon hardpoints he observed differed from ours. Luther and the Harakoni, meanwhile, viewed perhaps the purest structure of all, a towering spire straight from Harakon itself, if thrust into the snowy tundra of Arctoros 5. Yet again, the weapon emplacements differed still. Bliss did not tell me what she saw, nor did Galen, but they did confirm differing arrangements of the enemy¡¯s arsenal. I had to assume we were all shown places of our pasts, if vaguely nondescript and haphazardly chosen by the vile mind-shifting of the Warp.


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    Had our choice to split to multiple fronts damned us? Could we risk requesting for air support? I was sure Mirena would have obliged if we asked, but what opposition would she and her squadrons face? Would it be ours or hers, and if ours, would it change as she swung from front to front?


    Where concerned the Warp, logic did defy. One could question the ¡®what ifs¡¯ of such a siege indefinitely, until such a time as their defensive cover weathered away and the obscured lascannon encampment reduced them to jelly. What mattered was making a choice, quickly, and sticking to it. My choice, then, was to order Gradshi¡¯s and Luther¡¯s units to reconvene as soon as they could, and for Galen to join them, whilst requesting Bliss and Harr to move to my front¡ªthat she could operate beyond the view of the majority of our allies. Rather than nearly a dozen fronts from the execution of the forward detachments, I wanted to wrestle with the Warp¡¯s games and consolidate down to two.


    In addition to Bliss and Harr, I also requested air support for my front and my front alone¡ªI made clear to our logistical and aerial insertion teams that they were not to strafe our target or operate on longer bombing runs. If Gradshi or Luther requested air support, then that support would aid them and only them. In any case, as Mirena¡ªstill piloting the Bird, for transport purposes¡ªneared, my unit sprang from cover to target the anti-air installations we could see with our own armor-penetrating munitions. Lasguns would not suffice¡ªmuch to Silas¡¯s dismay, but he knew it as well as I¡ªso we turned to Bolters, Arc Weapons, and Rocket-Propelled Krak Grenades (courtesy of Silas) for the task. While we did risk exposure to the anti-personnel encampments installed on the ¡®Schola¡¯ we were sieging, our attack was carried out in near-perfect unison with the arrival of the Hellstrike Missiles from the Bird which devastated that which we had not targeted ourselves.


    Mirena landed shortly thereafter, with Silas, the techpriests, and the Sisters securing the area around her transport. Lucene, Varnus, and my Crusaders accompanied me to the lowering bay doors of the Bird, where we helped Zha to the ground. She and I agreed to spare her the initial fighting and subterfuge, but I very much wanted her presence in the halls of the fortress itself, that she might deduce our foes¡¯ tactics and plans, as well as figure out what in Terra¡¯s name we were up against to begin with.


    ¡°Mr. Blackgar, from listening to voxchatter, it sounds as though the target differs in composition and in form from front to front?¡± she asked to clarify as she disembarked from the Bird, one hand in mine.


    ¡°That¡¯s correct. More on that in a second¡ªMirena!¡± I shouted, my favorite pilot exiting from her roost at the helm of the Bird. Her eyebrows raised. ¡°If you¡¯ve wanted to serve at my side, now¡¯s your chance. This is an all-hands operation, and I can keep a better eye on you on the ground than in a Warpstorm,¡± I explained to her. While not responding in words, the smile that spread across her lips said enough, and she jumped toward her combat gear. ¡°The same applies to you, Castecael,¡± I added, turning to Mirena¡¯s partner, who was until then standing at the top of the bay doors. ¡°We could use a field medicae, if you¡¯re willing.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the alternative? Sit here and eat up resources in the form of others guarding me?¡± Castecael frowned. ¡°Pass on that, I¡¯m in. I assume you haven¡¯t been giving me combat drills for nothing, Cal,¡± she agreed, pulling a laspistol from a holster near the doors of the Bird. ¡°I¡¯ll try to keep out of your way.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine you could get in our way in the first place. Thank you, Castecael,¡± I smiled to her as Mirena ran up, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend¡¯s waist.


    ¡°So, what, we¡¯re leaving the Bird here?¡± Mirena asked, already suited up in her bodyglove and ready to roll with a laspistol of her own.


    ¡°If the enemy reaches our flank to destroy the Bird, we¡¯ve got bigger things to worry about than our ride home,¡± I answered, and as I did so, I spied Bliss and Harr rounded a bend behind us, joining our unit. ¡°Come on, time is of the essence today.¡± I then turned back to Zha as Mirena and Castecael crept off the Bird, abandoning it. ¡°Ms. Trantos, about the target¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes. You see a Schola, as do I. The Harakoni saw something of Harakon, and that Knight of yours saw something else altogether. I have confirmed with their units. I have also confirmed that upon their mingling, they now all see a Schola, though it does differ from the one before us now,¡± Zha explained.


    ¡°It changed in front of Galen¡¯s and the Harakoni¡¯s eyes?¡± I clarified, astonished, while gesturing to all the rest around us to form up on my position. We were going in, regardless of what it was we were going in to.


    ¡°Yes. I have a theory.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°Whatever this structure is, it maps its visage to that of the most potent psyker present. On our front, I assume that is you, and we see your Schola. On the other front, the whole lot of Gradshi¡¯s psykers would have visited a similar destination. When Galen and the Harakoni joined Gradshi¡¯s psykers, their psychic presence overruled the prior visual mapping,¡± Zha suggested.


    ¡°But it hasn¡¯t just been visual,¡± I objected. ¡°Weapon hardpoints have differed.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I haven¡¯t worked that one out yet. As I said, just a theory, but one I am 81% confident in. I see¡­119 possibilities as to why the hardpoints may differ. I will be more certain once inside,¡± she suggested.


    ¡°I concur with your savant-Inquisitor¡¯s assertions so far,¡± Varnus chimed in. ¡°That there are tactical irregularities is¡ªwhile bothersome¡ªnot an underpinning of the nature of what we face. I further postulate that there may be multiple structures present and the Warp is, by some as-yet-undetermined mechanism, choosing with which to present against us.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the likelihood of that choice having consequences on the interior? Am I sending our second front into a building that is not the one we are about to waltz into?¡± I asked them both.


    ¡°I give it 50/50,¡± Varnus replied, which was a strikingly¡ªand would have been amusingly, were it not for the horror presented by the odds¡ªmundane answer.


    ¡°I could flip a Throne, if we want,¡± Mirena piped up from behind our group.


    ¡°The tossing of coin is unlikely to have tangible repercussions on our tactical scenario,¡± Varnus noted, which earned an eyeroll from my pilot and a grin from me.

 Chapter 62 - Warp

    For much of my life, I have strived to lead by example. I led the 8<sup>th</sup> on the Pyrran front over a century ago, among the frontlines to engage our enemies. I have, to the disappointment of my peers, often placed myself at the forefront of our battles even as an Inquisitor. I do this, partly, to rally my allies, and that has proven effective¡ªperhaps too much so. As Lucene hinted at near to my medicae, many of my current retinue beheld me with heroic reverence, which I did not desire. Some Commissars, such as Cain, may be rightful Heroes of the Imperium, but that is not a title I have any intention of wielding. And now, as an Inquisitor, the predilection of my appointment regards heroism as being too overt.


    Alas, I must confess I also seek the frontlines due to my own personal desire for a good battle and worthy end. One¡¯s duty only ends in death, and I have no intention of my duty ending with the soles of my feet being anywhere but against the ground. I am displeased by the existence of my foes and the costs that come with putting them down, but I do enjoy the process to do so all the same. I believe this to be fine¡ªif one enjoys their service to the Throne, they will be less inclined to waver from it. I had enjoyed, to some extent, the testing nature of the battles posed to me by the Phaenonite, which again is not to say I am glad to have shared a galaxy with such a foe and needed to slay them in the first place.


    I can confidently say, however, that I did not enjoy my time in the Arctoros 5 fortress. My displeasure was not due to the fact that I stood behind the frontlines, letting those with larger armaments than my own do all the shooting. My displeasure was not due to the fact that our foe showed little capacity for resistance once we had breached their walls.


    My displeasure, rather, stemmed from the fact that my mind felt free in ways it had not been ever before, to my recollection. Within the walls of the fortress, I felt raw and unbridled. Dangerous. And that possibility for danger frightened me¡ªI knew, to the point of mortification, what my mind was capable of. I did not feel, necessarily, that I was out of control, so to speak. Rather, I felt like I was drawing in more power from my surroundings than I usually controlled, and that the level of my control was not increasing in parallel.


    For instance, as we plunged deeper into the winding¡ªand not at all familiar, not-Schola-like¡ªhalls of the fortress, I served as a psychic scout for our unit, probing for assailants as yet unencountered. I had done this plenty of times before, offering predictions, warnings, and orders for the future to my allies. But as we spent more time in the fortress, when my mind reached out and found our foes, the mere presence of my gaze began to tamper with our opposition. I made them paranoid, that they¡ªrightfully¡ªfelt like they were being watched. I exerted such power with my psychic presence, unintentionally, and the lack of that intention coupled with the growth of that power made me more and more reluctant to wield it. Likewise, I grew less inclined to offer psychic, speechless advice to my allies, lest I force my mind upon them with greater might than they could handle.


    I very much wanted to leave the fortress as soon as possible.


    My allies, however, felt in their prime. I suspected our foes did, too, but those non-psykers around me found themselves filled with youthful vigor they had not possessed in some time. Reflexes snapped to the near-lightning speeds of those with something to prove, without coming at the cost of the battle-hardened experience my allies wielded. They were more in tune with themselves, more in sync with their minds and bodies. Notably, I observed no such change in Bliss¡¯s skillset; perhaps whatever was happening to the others had already been trained into her from the Callidus Temple. Would this change for the others be a permanent one? I hoped not, due to what I was beginning to understand.


    We were in the Warp itself.


    Immaterial though the Warp was oft-considered, wherever we were was surely not Arctoros 5, nor was it an ordinary plane of the Materium. Here, the power of the mind reigned supreme. Here, the effects of time on the bodies of those present were less significant. Strain did not exist. Physical boundaries were more easily pushed beyond their limits. I had besieged the fortress from the outside with the greatest mortal killing force I had ever laid eyes on, but once inside its twisted walls, among halls of reflective, colorless, coiled metals, the efficacy of my allies elevated well beyond what I assumed they were capable of.


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    I may have been proud of them, were I not horrified. I wanted to ask what they felt of themselves and their abilities, but that would need to be a conversation for later. I neither wanted to waste time in the fortress to sit, chat, and worsen our physical stability nor to distract them from the carnage they were unleashing.


    Praise be that the Throne could still see us, then, that it only took perhaps half an hour of brutally-efficient combat before we found a sensorium and data storage room, with a working cogitator. ¡°Varnus, assist Ms. Trantos with the cogitator,¡± I ordered of them both. ¡°I wish to know everything there is to know about this place, most keenly with who was in charge of its construction and where we can find them. Destroy all information of import as you find it; it cannot leave this facility or the Inquisition. Everyone else, secure that archway, let our thinkers do their thinking in peace.¡±


    ¡°Something is wrong about this place, Callant,¡± Bliss warned, stepping in front of me. She looked as worried as I felt. ¡°It¡¯s¡­doing something to us.¡±


    ¡°I know. When Zha finds what we¡¯re after, I¡¯ll order the recall of all units and have our ships remove this entire continent from the planet if that¡¯s what it takes to clear the Warpstorm,¡± I answered, seething. I was angry. Angry that I had had most of my critical operatives endanger themselves with whatever heretical nonsense the Phaenonites had created here. Angry that the heretics had made this unknown locale of wronged being in the first place. It would be cathartic to see it removed; I only hoped we would each live to see it so.


    ¡°Forgive the question, but what if they don¡¯t listen?¡± Bliss asked. I had not even considered that. We were in a place of temptation, where tantalizing power was made available for field-testing. The possibility that some may not wish to leave was very real, even for Agents of the Throne. By Terra, this may have seduced the Phaenonites in the first place; something made them turn traitor from the Inquisition, after all.


    ¡°If they don¡¯t listen, I will need to be a more stereotypical Commissar. So pray they listen, for their sake,¡± I frowned.


    ¡°While I have great faith in your abilities, Callant, we¡¯re not the front with the Knight,¡± she reminded me, and left my side to let that sit with me. True. If I came to blows with Galen, that would be quite far from ideal. And if, Throne forbid, Gradshi or his psykers opposed me¡­


    If we made it out of here alive, I¡ªor, likely, some other Inquisitors¡ªwould need to interrogate each and every Agent I had ordered into this facility. I could only pray my Agents would cooperate. And the paperwork, Throne! Such administrivia might dwarf the mountainous, exterior shell of this Terra-forsaken place.


    ¡°Anything?¡± I asked of Varnus and Zha, though they had only just begun.


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Zha started. ¡°There¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°54.1248, -31.6744,¡± Varnus interrupted, physically embedded into an input socket for the cogitator.


    I understood. Coordinates. ¡°You get those, Mirena?¡±


    ¡°Two hour flight from where we left the Bird,¡± she answered, nodding.


    ¡°Excellent. Pack it up. We move out in sixty seconds, back the way we came,¡± I ordered.


    ¡°Mr. Blackgar, we¡¯ve only just begun to get a grasp on what this facility is,¡± Zha protested. While her physical abilities had improved like many of the others in our insertion into this vile place, her personality¡ªthankfully¡ªseemed unchanged. She did not wish to remain due to any physical advancements the Warp bequeathed upon her; rather, it was her own natural curiosity that fueled her objection.


    But curiosity had damned Sectors in the past. It would not be the end of Ixaniad on my watch. ¡°Ms. Trantos, I respect your inclination for learning and discovery, and admire your willingness to follow my initial order. But the safety of this station is not well-defined, and I do not intend to jeopardize you or any others by staying here long. Please, I implore you, let¡¯s depart,¡± I told her. My tone betrayed my words, as I was not offering the opportunity to remain. If she wished to stay even still, I would have to shoot her. I plead, then, that her natural curiosity could be abated.


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­I understand, Mr. Blackgar. Apologies for my hesitation. Let us leave, then,¡± she agreed, and I silently thanked the Throne for that.


    I looked, then, to Varnus, still embedded in the cogitator. ¡°Varnus?¡±


    ¡°I have no inclination to remain among the darker heresies of lesser men,¡± Varnus answered, and relinquished himself from the cogitator terminal at once. ¡°I have thus far trusted your judgment to not recruit those whose strength of mind may be so weak likewise. Let us pray, then, that neither of us have misjudged.¡±


    ¡°Dear Techsorcist, I have been saying such a prayer since we arrived,¡± I sighed.

 Chapter 63 - Phaenonite

    ¡°Coming up on the target now, sir,¡± Mirena reported over vox. The rest of us were in the bay of the Bird, waiting to make a swift exit to eliminate our target.


    ¡°Do you have visual?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I do, sir,¡± she confirmed.


    ¡°What¡¯s the opposition looking like?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s looking like you may have the wrong idea,¡± she replied. ¡°For once, I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯ll need many weapons. Touching down now,¡± she added. That she was landing without making a strafing run on the target did have me a bit worried. I was not enthused by Mirena deciding for herself what our required payload was, but having said that, I had no reason not to trust her judgment so far. A few moments after touchdown, Mirena gave the call that the bay doors would be lowering shortly¡ªa call which, often, followed from an onslaught of Heavy Bolter fire. No such assault was carried against our target now.


    Silas and I exchanged glances as we rose from our seats, each of us unsure what we were about to face. But when the bay doors opened and he hammered forth to secure the outside area, I, instead, remained petrified within the Bird. Bewildered from the obscurity of the scene ahead, and terrified of the implications.


    For ahead sat a single log cabin, and that was all¡ªthough eventually my troops did encircle the cabin, adding a sizable degree of militarization to the scene. I feared it was the cabin of my haunting dreams, but logic suggested otherwise. The one I had dreamed of sat in a grassy field, whereas this rested in a snowy tundra. They were also shaped differently¡ªthat of my dreams had a porch, this one did not. But even so, those differences did little to assuage my fears, and for a time I remained petrified still.


    After a few moments, a man exited from the cabin, one hand holding a small dining plate and the other a cup by its handle, the base of the cup hovering over the plate. My small army pointed the sum of their weapons at the man, but held their fire. The man did not seem worried by the threat of their presence, and instead continued to survey the scene. He himself seemed aged from his slow, careful, but unimpressed demeanor, yet his complexion appeared quite young. Younger than myself, even. And when he spoke, which he did after surveying the scene in full, his voice was without the strain of time or stress. ¡°Which of you is Callant Blackgar?¡±


    The utterance of my name snapped the petrification from me, but I said nothing in response. Instead, I chose to reach out with my mind, to feel about our surroundings in search of something more, some hidden weapon or trap that we were being lured into. Such simplicity as that which rested before us could not have been the full picture, the end result of our war against the Phaenonite. And yet, I found nothing. No traps, no hidden weapons. No complex cellar beneath the cabin, hosting all manner of horrors. Nothing.


    ¡°I made tea,¡± the man offered, gesturing with his cup-holding hand back to the cabin. ¡°Blackgar and I should speak.¡±


    ¡°And who would I be speaking to?¡± I called out at last, finally stepping off the Bird. I had not noticed until then, but Lucene had stood next to me during my petrification. She joined me as I exited the Bird. I so often noticed her presence, so often found her comforting. But even she was unable, then, to sway me from my stunned fears prior.


    ¡°I am Absalom. Once a Lord Inquisitor. Now¡­I suspect your ordos do not regard me as such,¡± the man answered. ¡°Come inside. I imagine you have questions.¡±


    ¡°Aplenty,¡± I growled. ¡°Lucene, and only Lucene. Everyone else, keep watch out here. I don¡¯t like this.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s not to like?¡± Absalom shrugged. ¡°Shame, they¡¯ll not have tea. I¡¯ve had a few years to get the taste right,¡± he added, chuckling to himself. He then looked across the horizon, where far in the distance, lance batteries began pummeling a large but nondescript structure out of existence. ¡°Children¡¯s toys, those. Back in the day, when we wanted something killed, we threw a moon at it. We broke worlds. Now you lot put on a light show and call it a day. Pity.¡± He then turned back to me, as I neared him. Lucene held my flank. ¡°I do not imagine I have a chair that can hold a Sister¡¯s power armor,¡± he admitted, a touch of bewilderment in his voice. ¡°Especially not so for one her size.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m quite comfortable standing,¡± Lucene replied.


    ¡°As am I,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Suit yourselves,¡± he shrugged again. ¡°Come on in. Much to discuss.¡±


    Absalom¡¯s cabin was just that, a cabin, which infuriated me with its banal simplicity. Indeed, no great and terrible heresy could be found along its walls, no villainous displays or trophies of the loyal were installed here. It was a home, for a single man, and nothing more. He led us to a kitchen/dining room, where he took a seat at a wooden table atop a wooden stool. He kicked another such stool over to me, but I declined it for the time being. As mentioned, he had nowhere for Lucene to sit, and in fact she herself was too tall for many of his doorways¡ªa violation of Imperial code, as doors were meant to allow Astartes through. Hardly an act of terror as befit the Phaenonites, but a criminal violation all the same. Regardless, Lucene made do, squeezing herself under door frames and making the log floor creak and crack as she moved about.


    ¡°So, where do we begin, you and I?¡± Absalom asked me after taking his seat. ¡°Oh, sorry, right, tea. Kettle should still be hot.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not thirsty,¡± I declined.


    ¡°I insist.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you do.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not poisoned, Blackgar!¡± Absalom laughed.


    ¡°That I¡¯m less sure of.¡±


    ¡°If you could find an ounce of poison in this house, I¡¯d let you feed it to me now,¡± Absalom scoffed. ¡°Bah, your kind is ever so zealous in your paranoia. You¡¯ll tire of it eventually. One cannot make enemies of all creation for eternity.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you did? Get tired?¡± I suggested.


    Absalom took a sip of his tea and looked ahead, toward me but not at me, with a hint of whimsy. ¡°Perhaps. It was so long ago, now, so very long ago. Yes, I suppose I did grow tired of inflicting pain and suffering upon those barely deserving¡ªif at all. Forgive me, Blackgar, I have a quick question of my own, just to get the context straight between us. Have you been to Amnes Minoris?¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t know? You weren¡¯t warned I was coming?¡± I asked in reply.


    ¡°That¡¯s a yes, then. I assume you know the truth of that world, then, of its inhabitants?¡±


    ¡°That they¡¯re undying?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they die like everyone else. But yes, I get your meaning. Yes. I ask because I feel it¡¯s worth clarifying now that I, unlike them, don¡¯t. Or, rather, haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t what?¡±


    ¡°Died.¡±


    ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°Ha! But you will. Or, would have, if not for today. But that brings me nearer to my point, to our victory against you,¡± Absalom smirked. ¡°Immortality is¡­a matter of opinion. And opinions differ.¡±


    ¡°Thankfully there¡¯s only One that matters,¡± I noted, to which Lucene nodded.


    ¡°Ha! Funny,¡± Absalom clapped his hands, then took another sip of his tea. ¡°There are those who believe, perhaps like yourself, that with enough faith you will live eternal in the afterlife, hm? Then there are those like Silverman who believe immortality means not letting death get in the way of life. And then there¡¯s us.¡±


    ¡°Us?¡±


    ¡°You really should be sitting, Blackgar,¡± Absalom chuckled, grin widening. ¡°I believe immortality means never giving in to death in the first place, to live in perpetuity. I was there, you see, during the Schism on Phaenon Prime. Well, during the second one, when we threw a moon at the world and blew it asunder. I was there.¡±


    ¡°That was twenty-five hundred years ago,¡± I objected.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re catching on,¡± Absalom agreed. ¡°Perpetuity. Of course, there are those more natural at this than what I accomplished. And ours is a flawed perpetuity.¡±


    ¡°Ours?¡±


    Absalom¡¯s grin widened as much as it possibly could have, then. ¡°Welcome to heresy, my friend. You made pilgrimage to the Eternal Shroud, didn¡¯t you? That shapeshifting pocket in the Warp of ours? How did it feel, reconnecting with your youth?¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡± I seethed, burying an augmetic fist into his table, sending wood splinters everywhere.


    ¡°What do you think I did?¡± Absalom laughed. ¡°You¡¯re one of us now. Only, it¡¯s important you understand the nuance. You and I can die, permanently. But we won¡¯t if not given aid in that regard. You¡¯ll live forever, Callant Blackgar, until your mind stops ticking on the wrong side of a gun. This, in contrast to Silverman¡¯s approach, which was to live forever in the form of countless lives. But I was none too keen on dying. Our two approaches to immortality are incompatible, which I think will sting for you the most. If and when you die, that¡¯s it for your soul. It will not go to the Warp. In some ways that¡¯s a good thing, as the things that live there won¡¯t have you. But per your faith, there is no longer a seat for you at your God¡¯s table. You have made your pilgrimage to the damnation of my design, rather than the salvation of your beloved Throne,¡± he explained, and broke into laughter again.


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    I had a thousand reasons to slay the bastard then and there, and I very well may have, if not for the touch of a familiar hand clad in black power armor. I looked to Lucene, whose Sabbat Helm stared back at me, emotionless, but I felt the worry and sorrow ebb off her form all the same. With a deep breath and a million questions, I turned back to Absalom, who was still laughing. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I had wondered if that would be your first question. That or if it will only affect you.¡±


    ¡°Will it?¡±


    ¡°No. If you set foot in there for, say, half an hour, you¡¯re immortal now. Indiscriminately. I tracked your team to be there for an hour plus. The whole lot of you are timeless, now. Congratulations,¡± Absalom cackled. ¡°As to why, two reasons. One, to break you. Not to kill you, killing you is a cheaper and easier task¡ªalbeit one Silverman very much wished to accomplish and obviously has failed at all the same; though it seems he has managed to take an arm and an eye, hm? But to break you, ah! That is how heresy begins. It starts not in a man of wholesome faith but in a broken whelp who craves immediate solutions to his problems, whose faith is insufficient in the moment. I wonder what your solution will be to the problem of your existence¡ªand, surely, what will your ordos think?¡± he explained, and broke into laughter again, this time compelled to slap one of his knees.


    ¡°And your second reason?¡± I growled, blood still boiling and fists still clenched, one atop and one inside his table.


    ¡°I want you to kill someone. And you¡¯ll need to be more capable than a frail old man for the task,¡± he answered, at last simmering down from his laughter.


    ¡°Your enemies are not mine,¡± I hissed.


    ¡°Oh, but they are, Callant Blackgar,¡± he grinned, though kept his cool, and leaned in closer to me. ¡°In fact, you have already made a vow to slay this foe, as I understand it,¡± he whispered. Then he shot to his feet, patrolling around his kitchen. ¡°Two Phaenonites, a Heretek, and a Rogue Trader walk into a bar and decide to upend known reality. How? Hm? They put a plan together, they think it¡¯ll work, but what are the odds that they could possibly have found each other and worked so congruently, in a universe as large as ours?¡±


    ¡°The Fifth,¡± I nodded, understanding. Absalom nodded in confirmation. ¡°You know who they are?¡±


    ¡°Who, or what?¡± he suggested.


    ¡°Both?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I know not what, though I can guess. I have heard the name. Ouranos,¡± Absalom answered, and at that, any rage that once burned hot through my veins instead froze up into cold terror as word of my recent vision reared its ugly head in conscious life. ¡°Ah, I see you¡¯ve heard the name too.¡±


    ¡°Who is it?¡± I asked, voice faded to a cool echo of my former fury.


    ¡°That hints toward the What of his identity, to which I can only guess,¡± Absalom sighed. ¡°A savant, by my wagers.¡±


    ¡°A savant?¡± I repeated.


    Absalom nodded, and then, in a sudden fit of rage, shouted, ¡°He used us! Us! An underground empire of Inquisitors that has spanned three Sectors! No mere man could accomplish that,¡± he shook his head, voice lowering down to its former volume. ¡°The scale of manipulation Ouranos has managed is too vast for the mind of one such as you or me. And now he moves those Iron Idiots into conflict with Ixaniad, as I¡¯m sure you know. What sort of man could direct traitor Astartes if not a savant? No, I am sure of this much, at least. Beyond that, I believe only that he is a daemon, for there is no other word that better describes him. And I do not mean a daemon the likes of which Malleus hunts, I mean it as an adjective, a descriptor. Ouranos is cruel, vile, abject filth that all in the galaxy would be better off without. Twenty-five hundred years, Blackgar, I have seen and culled villains I could understand. But he, the cowardly puppet master, I have neither seen nor understood. I have seen light flicker off the strings affixed to my organization¡¯s visage, but I have not seen the hand that holds them. He holds the Iron Warriors. And now, it seems, he holds your Inquisition, as he has affixed strings to you.¡±


    ¡°I have made my own choices to get here, heretic,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°You think so? Do you? You called him the Fifth in relation to Hestia Majoris, but I think he¡¯s the Sixth. You¡¯re the Fifth. You were, what, attracted to the missing tithes? An easy enough clue to disseminate the way of an Inquisitor looking to lay low. And Thantalus, before that¡ªwhy, perhaps his strings were on your hands and feet even then,¡± Absalom replied, now also shaking his head in dismissal of my earlier objection.


    ¡°I am no Fifth to what went on in Abseradon. I ended it, destroyed it,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°Ah, Blackgar, but that is what went on in Abseradon. And that is what Ouranos does, the cruel bastard. He moves opposing forces into conflict with each other and gets them to kill themselves against their foes. Self-obliteration. That is the name of this coward¡¯s game. He moved a capable Inquisitor against the Hestian operation, and in destroying those pawns, you played his game. Now you¡¯ve destroyed us, too, I wager. More pieces culled from the board of Ouranos¡¯s machinations. The Iron Warriors will be next. Either you¡¯ll kill them off or they¡¯ll kill you off. Either way, Ouranos gets what he wants. Callant Blackgar, I have given you my curse of eternal life so you can kill this frigging bastard as I could not. I do not know how you¡¯re meant to, for believe me I have, with my vast resources, tried. But as Silverman could not end you, I could not end Ouranos, not in twenty-five centuries. Please, I would beg of you, kill him,¡± Absalom insisted.


    I sighed, then smiled, amused. He frowned, not understanding what amused me so. ¡°So often is our Imperium at war with itself. Internal strife is perhaps our greatest failing, what has most kept us back from ending heresy altogether. Funny to see, then, that there is hatred between heretics too. I will kill Ouranos or die trying. But certainly not because you asked me to.¡±


    ¡°I care not for your motives, Blackgar. The ends will justify the means. That Ouranos dies is the only thing of import to me,¡± Absalom admitted, and at last took another seat atop his stool. ¡°I confess, I have, in part, lied. By omission,¡± he said, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a vial of blue liquid, about as viscous as the Pariah extract, but inherently much more vibrant in hue. ¡°There is more of this under the counter over there. You do not need to be immortal. This will cure you. It won¡¯t kill you now, but it will later¡ªit will re-tether you to time and your flesh will live out your paused years in an instant. I offer it to you and yours as incentive, as a show of goodwill. I did not originally choose immortality to kill Ouranos, but I am glad my temporal pause has allowed me to find one such as yourself who may be up to the task. But here, at the end¡ªand I assume it is an end, and that you are not leaving this cabin while I yet live¡ªI am tired, again. Tired of the tricks. If you believe that your faith will guide you to your God¡¯s table after life, I have no reason to try to convince you otherwise,¡± he explained, setting the vial onto the table. ¡°You may think it poison, or some other more destructive thing. You are, as ever, paranoid. But have your Techsorcist¡ªI saw him out there¡ªhave him look it over, with the knowledge of your newfound timelessness. Then, when he identifies that this does as I describe, disseminate it amongst your ranks and return to normalcy. Or¡­,¡± he started, but drawled his further explanation out.


    ¡°Or live and fight until Ouranos is found and killed,¡± I finished for him. He nodded.


    ¡°Or that, yes. I cannot know the years you would need for such a task. But I do know, as I said, the youthful strength you would need. Better that time not stand in your way, in my opinion. So, the choice is yours: die as faithful servants to your Throne, or live to kill the greatest heretic I have ever known, across my many, many years. Choices¡­hm. Ouranos uses choice, or the illusion thereof, as a psychological weapon. Be ready for that.¡±


    ¡°What of the four colors?¡± I asked him, referring to the four lights Ouranos had walked me past in my vision.


    Absalom frowned and shook his head. ¡°I do not know of what you speak. What colors?¡±


    ¡°Red, purple, green, blue¡ªOuranos showed me these in a vision,¡± I explained. ¡°He spoke of them as though they were identities.¡±


    Absalom shook his head again. ¡°I do not know. Those colors are often associated with the daemonic. I myself was of Hereticus, like you. Perhaps you should take the question to our ilk in Malleus,¡± he suggested, then chuckled. ¡°That is, of course, you find yourself on speaking terms with the ordos after what I¡¯ve changed in you.¡±


    ¡°Silverman,¡± I muttered to myself, then, but had not formulated the question.


    ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°Many questions. How old is he?¡±


    ¡°He and his project on Amnes Minoris¡ªwell, actually, it was Heirene¡¯s project, Silverman was just on board with it¡ªthey aren¡¯t too old. Eight centuries, maybe?¡±


    ¡°Silverman had taken an interest in the Astartes program,¡± I suggested, to which Absalom nodded knowingly.


    ¡°With Gale Ryke, yes,¡± Absalom added.


    ¡°Was that intended to approximate your approach to immortality, while maintaining their own?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I believe so, yes. At least, to some extent. My approach was intended to be shared, but I do not imagine Silverman felt that way,¡± he began.


    ¡°Silverman was making his Astartes for thousands, perhaps more,¡± I noted.


    ¡°Yes, as an army to retake the skies, as he always put it. But the problem of his rudimentary Astartes program¡ªnot unlike the issue with the Imperium¡¯s real Astartes program¡ªis that it is controlled and managed by a few. That gives those few a real power over those that seek such lasting life. The plan, of course, was to die a mortal and be reborn an Astartes, then capable of limitless rebirths. But Silverman could just as easily bait the unworthy into dying as mortals and then never resurrecting. The truly dead would not complain much, after all. Admittedly, I am glad you stopped his plans in Abseradon. While such an army may have been able to best Ouranos, we would have traded one monster for another,¡± Absalom mused. ¡°I¡¯ve never particularly liked Silverman or his aspirations, if you couldn¡¯t tell,¡± he added in a mutter.


    ¡°It¡¯s begun to come across,¡± I grinned, sharing his distaste. ¡°If Amnes Minoris is destroyed, what will come of them?¡±


    ¡°I suspect they will die at last. The world is a tethering point for the soul¡ªspacially, anyways, whereas I temporally untethered yours¡ªand when that point is gone, their next deaths will be final. See it¡¯s not really Perpetualism, as has occasionally occurred within our Imperium¡¯s history, but rather a crude attempt at emulating it. We have not perfected the process, neither those on Amnes nor us on Arctoros,¡± he explained.


    ¡°Nor will you,¡± I added. ¡°What about Calixis?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already gathered you¡¯re getting your troops and resources from there, from the Severan Dominate,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Ah. Yes. We are a Phaenonite Cell. We¡¯re not the only one. Most of our peers are in Calixis, they set that communication up with the Dominate but have been willing to share some of their forces with those of us elsewhere. You could pursue them in Calixis, if you found authorization. Their goals are more destructive as opposed to ours which tend toward the creation of life. I¡¯d rather you chase after Ouranos, though, wherever he may be,¡± Absalom reminded me. ¡°Plus I expect you¡¯ll have a war on your hands soon enough here in Ixaniad.¡±


    ¡°Right. Final question,¡± I started, but he asked it for me.


    ¡°Any last words?¡± he guessed, smiling, as I drew and aimed my Boltpistol toward him.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°It was a life well lived. Will you be able to say the same?¡±


    ¡°Lord Inquisitor Absalom, formerly of Ordo Hereticus, you are Excommunicate Traitoris, and I declare thee Extremis Diabolus. If you still have a soul after all these years, may the God-Emperor of the Imperium of Mankind have mercy on it.¡±

 Chapter 64 - Presage

    ¡°Would be a funny way to go, though,¡± Bliss suggested, tapping her shoulder to my augmetic, each of our hands folded on the black, I-shaped table before us. No others shared the room with us.


    ¡°Would it?¡± I asked, frowning.


    ¡°I think so. Kill untold legions of heretics, you and I, and finally be done in by the crime of our own maligned existence,¡± she offered. I had not yet told everyone of the fate thrust upon us. That knowledge was kept to those of Inquisitorial rank, and Lucene, by necessity of her presence. But I had not brought the unwitting into my retinue; no, any who set foot into the Arctoros 5 facility¡ªwhich was most of us¡ªknew that something was wrong, for having felt so right. I did not then know if the news would ever be broken to them, or if they would die ignorant of the reason for their execution, or, optimally, if they would not be killed at all.


    As for the subject of Ouranos, even fewer knew of that information. Myself, Lucene, and my superiors on Quintus. No others, not even the ever-smiling Bliss then sitting next to me in our shared interrogation room. ¡°You OK, Callant?¡± Bliss asked me after a time while I mused on the above.


    ¡°I have already been the death of one of my armies. I have dreaded the thought of repeating that fate, born of what I am or have become,¡± I answered, looking down at my hands, which¡ªdespite being folded¡ªtrembled in place.


    Bliss looked at me for a few moments, smile slowly fading away, then asked, ¡°What will you do about it?¡±


    ¡°Am I supposed to do anything about it?¡±


    ¡°Well someone always does something, even if the something is nothing,¡± Bliss shrugged. ¡°You could let it happen. That¡¯s something you could do. Would you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Would you fight to save the 9<sup>th</sup>, if you could?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I think you know, Callant,¡± Bliss whispered, her smile returning. ¡°And I think that¡¯s what they¡¯re afraid of, and why this debate is taking so long.¡±


    ¡°They are not afraid of me,¡± I scoffed.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they be? You just prosecuted the extinction of a whole cell of Inquisitors. You¡¯re pretty good at killing our kind,¡± Bliss explained. ¡°And I¡¯m pretty good at killing, period.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you¡¯d kill for me? For the 9<sup>th</sup>?¡±


    ¡°If you asked,¡± she nodded softly.


    ¡°Is this you trying to be supportive?¡±


    ¡°Is it working?¡±


    That, finally, got a smile from me. ¡°Thanks, Bliss,¡± I whispered. ¡°But I personally get no pleasure out of killing.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. But I¡¯m good at it, just as you are,¡± she replied. ¡°I have enjoyed working with you.¡±


    ¡°And I with you.¡±


    ¡°Have you?¡± she asked, with an apparent touch of genuine surprise. ¡°Enjoy having buildings land on your head?¡±


    ¡°Well, being as it¡¯s happened twice,¡± I grumbled. ¡°You¡¯re fun, smart, very beautiful, and extremely capable. What¡¯s not to enjoy?¡±


    ¡°I could still be an unpleasant person,¡± she offered.


    ¡°That possibility is denied by the word fun,¡± I smiled, returning the tap of shoulders. Bliss conceded that point with a giggle, albeit flirtatiously tapping one of her feet to mine under the table. ¡°Partners,¡± I muttered then, unintentionally. I would not have known I said it aloud had Bliss not replied.


    ¡°Are we?¡± she asked, grinning widely to the point of blushing. ¡°Should I tell Jack?¡±


    ¡°Oh, uh, sorry, no, I just¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t take everything seriously, Callant, ease up,¡± she winked to me. But she was a partner of mine, of a sort. And indeed, Caliman was marginally correct¡ªthe group of my partners had grown. Lucene may have been a true one, by definition. But I was also close with Mirena, beyond the fabric of our relationship over the years, by nature of us both having once been soldiers. Likewise, now, I shared a similar closeness with Bliss, for we were both remade into Inquisitors from violent, bloody pasts. She, perhaps more than all the rest, understood me to my core, in ways Lucene or Mirena could only guess at. ¡°At least you¡¯re looking at my face, still,¡± she piped up, and I realized I had been looking her way for this train of thought. ¡°One day I¡¯ll see if I can get you to stare a bit more to my south, just for the fun of it.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I¡­damnit, Bliss, even your face is distracting,¡± I admitted, grinning, and provoking a blurting laugh from her. ¡°Thank you. For everything.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure, Callant,¡± she smiled, still chuckling to herself. ¡°You know, you do make the eyepatch work, by the way.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I meant to reply, but it was then, at last, that the doors of our room opened. Caliman and Emile entered. The former looked stern and grumpy as ever, the latter I, as ever, could not read. ¡°One day you¡¯ll complete a mission, Blackgar, and a host of Lord Inquisitors won¡¯t need to convene about it,¡± Caliman growled.


    ¡°That has vast implications about my future,¡± I noted.


    ¡°You¡¯ll live! There, happy? You get your life, howsoever long it may last, though this came at much debate and there are¡­concessions that you¡¯ll need to agree to,¡± Caliman explained, still grumbling out every word, perhaps disappointed.


    ¡°And my crew?¡±


    ¡°The choice of the length of your lives are up to each of you. Well, it¡¯s up to you. You, by rights, have the authority to make the choice for them, just as you may make it for yourself. You, Seraina, as well as Zha Trantos will also be open to make their own choices should they disagree with Blackgar¡¯s command,¡± Caliman answered, speaking directly to Bliss for the latter sentence.


    ¡°So, he and I can choose eternity or not?¡± Bliss asked.


    ¡°Correct,¡± Emile nodded. ¡°But again, there will be concessions. First and foremost, no one of such timelessness can operate beyond the watchful eye of our ordos for very long. Clandestine operations will be prohibited. In simple terms, any who wish to be so timeless will be under the thumb of Quintus very directly, with maximized supervision. There is no negotiating this point. Do you both understand?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± we answered in near-unison.


    ¡°Good. Can we trust you will explain this to your operatives?¡± Caliman asked.


    ¡°You can,¡± I nodded. ¡°Other concessions?¡±


    ¡°This is a tentative ruling, made in place with the Lord Inquisitors available at the time. Should a Master or Grandmaster Inquisitor overrule this decision, any timeless individual will be either forced to take Absalom¡¯s ¡®cure¡¯ to the condition¡ªprovided Techsorcist Varnus finds it to be such a thing¡ªor face immediate execution. Non-negotiable,¡± Caliman explained. ¡°Explain this likewise to your retinue.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I nodded again. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°One more. You, Blackgar, are hereby given three direct commands from our council. One, you will serve on a military tribunal as needed pursuant to the defense of the Ixaniad Sector from the Iron Warriors. You may name any you see fit to join you on that tribunal, but we will do the same. This defense is to be your highest priority. Your second command is to oversee the elimination of Captain Valeran Mortoc of the Shatter Corps, named by the Heretek Antonax in our interrogation, and confirmed by Imperial intel units. Your third and final command is to identify and terminate Ouranos, at any cost, and with maximized prejudice. Quintus recognizes Absalom¡¯s intel as credible, and that you¡¯ve been given a vision from this entity is more worrisome still. Per Lord van der Skar¡¯s order following your sentencing after the Hestian events, find and kill them,¡± Caliman commanded. Then, begrudgingly, he added, ¡°I will assist as I can, while our goals align.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lord Caliman,¡± I nodded to him. He nodded in reply, our shared respect going unspoken.


    ***


    The vast majority of my operatives, upon being told the above, almost immediately wanted to follow my decision in regards to whether to remain temporally immortal. Problem was, I was not sure what my decision would be. None of my operatives tried to sway my mind one way or another, though a handful did say they would prefer not to be immortal, to have the possibility of dying natural deaths.


    Jack Harr was among such a group, to Bliss¡¯s disappointment, though it was not a dealbreaker of their relationship, even though the latter wanted to make whichever choice I made. Luther also wanted to take Absalom¡¯s ¡®cure;¡¯ I believe he was more interested in the afterlife than in having an end to his life, for in the afterlife, he might be with Czevia Gao again. A handful of others, particularly those zealously faithful to the Imperial Creed, such as my Crusaders, Gallius Anwar and Lanto Sven, opted for mortality. This choice of ours, both ways, made life and the continuation thereof appear as a dreadful waiting game, that I be forced to wait and witness the expiry of many around me.


    On the point of zealotry, though, Lucene was quickly adamant as to prefer to follow in my footsteps despite her faith. I was unsure how to feel about that, that my choice would so decide the fate of so many around me. That was how they all got into this complication in the first place. ¡°You just don¡¯t get it, even after all this time, do you, Cal?¡± Lucene asked, crawling into bed with¡ªand, soon, onto¡ªme after I explained my unsurety to her.


    ¡°Get what?¡± I grunted as she pried my eyepatch from my face and otherwise plucked a finger down my shirt, tugging up against it and clearly wanting it pulled off. Might be hard with her resting atop it.


    ¡°We are sure of your choices, even if you are not,¡± she answered. ¡°We want you to choose for us, because we trust you to do so, because you have never made a poor choice for us.¡±


    ¡°Other than leading you all into Arctoros 5 to begin with,¡± I reminded her. ¡°Is this going to be an argument? I so hate arguing with you.¡±


    ¡°Because I always win,¡± she grinned. ¡°Doesn¡¯t have to be. We trust you, Callant Blackgar. We wish to follow you until the end. At least, I do. And I¡¯m pretty sure Silas, Mirena, and many of the rest feel the same.¡±


    ¡°You all should have some agency over how your lives end,¡± I protested.


    ¡°But we do, Cal, that¡¯s the point. We choose to go into the night at your command. I want to die in active service to you, Cal, and would rather not weakly wither away in absentia. When you find a foe you cannot defeat, I want to be there to help beat them down. And if you and I cannot do it, then that is the end I want for myself. And no other,¡± she explained, and leaned in to kiss me. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m alone in this desire, Cal,¡± she whispered, our lips still touching following that kiss. ¡°Most of us see the value in you. Most of us see the value in fighting and dying with you. That is the end we would be most satisfied with,¡± she explained, and then leaned in for another kiss, though that one lasted long enough to deny me a response to her explanation. Indeed, it lasted well into the night, and it lasted longer than our remaining clothes did, and it lasted longer still from there, until at last, it saw us both to sleep.


    And in my sleep, I saw it again. The cabin. Not Absalom¡¯s. But unlike in every vision I had had so far of this cabin on green plains, I finally saw its owner: me. I sat upon a wooden rocking chair on its porch. Silas, unarmored, stood some distance to my left and behind me, elsewhere on the porch, looking off into the distance of whatever world this may have been. Mirena was on my lap, holding me closely, and falling asleep atop me. She looked sad, somber, sorrowful. I looked on past her, over her shoulder, toward me¡ªor, rather, toward my actual self¡¯s point of view. We were looking at each other.


    See it then? The truth?


    The voice¡ªOuranos. This was another of his visions all along.


    Do you see what is missing there, in your fate? I have already shown you.


    ¡°Lucene.¡±


    Correct.

 Afterword

    It had taken me a month to write Penance¡ªVolume 1. Absolution¡ªVolume 2¡ªtook me five and a half. Truth be told, Penance is an anomaly for me; ~70k words in a month¡¯s time is exceedingly record-breaking. Even Absolution¡¯s rate of 97k words in 5.5 months is well beyond my earlier rates, though there are some reasons for that. For one, as a self-published author, my earlier works required substantially more time being edited and revised. Secondly, I have simply had more practice in the craft as of late, every day improving my skills and literary capability.


    The slowdown in pace from Penance to Absolution is pretty reasonable, too; when I began Absolution, I had just accepted a new job from a state of unemployment, and began to prepare for my new work. A month later, I had just begun that new job and was spending my days in the office. The span of time I could devote to writing had diminished greatly. But while the quantity of my writing¡ªfrom a rate point of view¡ªhad decreased, the quality only continued to grow, and I do not mean in the grammatical or structural sense, but as measured in the contents of my writing. Every new experience in life translates to one¡¯s writing. It is the vulnerability of authors, then, that we must spend so long before a keyboard to physically put words onto a page, when the nature of those words is decided by our experiences elsewhere. To neglect change in life is to invite stagnation. And stagnation is the enemy of artistic creativity.


    I am, therefore, happy to have started my new job, even if it comes at a cost of writing quantity. Alas, that may not translate into long-term viewer retention. Ha!


    The author¡¯s curse, as I have dubbed it myself (though some note that it is in fact the artist¡¯s curse) is to look back upon their earlier works with disdain, knowing that they could do better now. And I do. I have two novels out on Amazon and I cannot bring myself to recommend them to people because I know they are vastly inferior to my current writing, nonrepresentative of my current storycraft. I was proud of them both when I had written them; I had been writing for nearly two decades but had not, until then, been proud enough to share anything with the world. But the drafts¡ªand, later, their revisions¡ªwere good enough to make me willing to release them with a price tag attached.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I have since questioned that judgment.


    When I look back upon Crown of Thorns, my first self-published novel, I do so with disdain for a handful of chapters in its beginning. When I look back upon Throne of Souls, its sequel, the disdain is held for some chapters toward the end. When I look back upon Penance, I have come to dislike a multitude of chapters prior to Blackgar¡¯s abduction. And now, reflecting upon Absolution, the pain points are sporadic and isolated, but still very present all the same.


    In Ford v Ferrari (2019), racer Ken Miles (portrayed by Christian Bale) notes his pursuit of the Perfect Lap, a lap with every turn and bend and straightaway taken with maximized efficiency and exquisite perfection. It is a lifelong goal of his. I find myself, now, in pursuit of my own Perfect Lap, though mine is measured in pages and not in RPMs. I seek to craft a tale of personal perfection, without the possibility of regret. This does not mean I aim for some literary work of art, as I do not imagine the stories I tell will ever be regarded as such¡ªfar be it for a 40k story to be considered so! Rather, I seek merely to tell a tale from beginning to end without flaw, without extraneous scenes yet with seamless flow between those scenes still present. I have not, in my decades of writing, managed such a task.


    I may not ever. And that is the author¡¯s curse.


    I look ahead, now, to the third volume of this tale; it is titled Apocrypha. Two chapters have been written as of the time of this writing, though more have likely been put together between now and this Afterword¡¯s publication (I write these well in advance of their arrival on RR). I see possible pitfalls the tale of Apocrypha may run into, but I also see what I believe to be a good story, full of hope, tragedy, love, and loss. And action, of course¡ª40k as a setting is rather demanding of that.


    Time permitting, I look forward to sharing it with you, perfect or otherwise, for curses aside, that is the author¡¯s duty. Alas, we fast approach the end of my backlog, even accounting for what slow forward progress I have managed in the meantime. Releases are soon to slow, I expect.


    -Ceno

 Chapter 65 - Downfall

    I was on New Cealis at the time, on the border of the Ixaniad Sector, which made sense. The year was M41.977. Lucene and I had not aged a day since we had killed the Phaenonite Absalom some years ago, nor had much of my retinue, though a good handful had chosen to embrace the flow of time the rest neglected in following in my footsteps. Such were their choices. Mine was to prosecute a merciless crusade against heresy, unrelenting, until such a time as my timelessness ran out. Absalom, a heretic himself, had given me this endless life as a way of striking against me as few others could. I intended to make those in my path loathe Absalom for having done so with the same frustration with which they cursed my name.


    My retinue was split wide across Ixaniad, focusing on border worlds first and foremost. We had been so-divided for dozens of years, now. Our goal was to subtly improve the security and militant readiness of as many worlds as we could. Subtlety was key; we did not want to provoke the enemy into striking because we were mobilizing too much too quickly. Instead, the weaponized growth of Ixaniad¡¯s worlds needed to look at least plausibly natural. So, to that end, we focused on influencing politics and the procurement of resources, improving strategy and seeing to the right commanding officers being put into place. It only took a couple Inquisitorial Agents, with my Rosette at their command, to leverage worlds into a defensive perimeter throughout the Sector.


    Lucene and I were working together on New Caelis when it began. I was worming my way into a criminal cartel with the intent to cut off its head to keep the corruption from getting in the world¡¯s way. At the time, I was meeting with some lesser criminals to broker a meet with those of greater import. Lucene was nearby, but not in the building, armed to the teeth should she need to respond. The meeting had been going well, and then we heard it¡ªthe great bursts of pressurized air that clapped like thunder, rumbling through the world. While much of my nearest company ran to the outdoor balcony to look skyward with a sense of na?ve curiosity, I joined them in reluctant dread, praying to the Throne that today was not the day.


    But it was.


    There, in the skies, hammered down a trio of metallic meteors. The sun glared off their burning hulls as they screamed through the atmosphere. Some watched on in awe even still, some pointing and whispering of the Emperor¡¯s Angels. But I knew better, and backed away instead. Time was ticking. Aware that my present company was far from savory, I drew my Boltpistol and shot the three men I had been meeting with in their backs. I then spun on my heels and killed a bartender who was far too slow to respond to my initial killing. Two more criminals sat at a table to my right, having been uninterested in the commotion, yet were quicker to respond to my attacks. Their autopistol bullets stopped in midair before me, where they remained suspended until I vaporized their owners in two more quick blasts of my own. No loose ends.


    It was, then, that a fourth drop pod landed in the streets mere blocks from me, crushing a district of citizenry and erupting into an inferno in an instant. From our angle on the balcony, I had not seen it coming. I would need to respond with Lucene, or not at all. But I knew she would have heard my shooting and would begin rushing to my aid, so I chose to race for and jump from the balcony, using my mind to slow my fall from the third floor of the building. I found Lucene in the streets below, though she was already in the doorway of the structure I had come from. ¡°Cal?¡± she asked, voice motorized and crackling through the voxspeaker of her power armor. I was without my armor, intending to be undercover.


    ¡°We need to get to the Governor. They¡¯ve made landfall for a reason, and we need to know why. I suspect they¡¯ll be going for him,¡± I answered as she stepped nearer, handing me a larger weapon. ¡°We¡¯ll have company on the way. Be ready. And in your suit, set a timer.¡±


    ¡°Time?¡±


    ¡°Seven minutes, forty-four seconds,¡± I replied, setting the same into a bionic cogitator embedded in my augmetic arm. The time itself was ticking down from eight minutes, an estimate which Quintus had theorized would be the expected amount of time for our anticipated foe to complete their initial strike target. We had to pray the defenders of New Caelid could beat that estimate, rather than detract from it.


    ¡°Mark,¡± she answered with a nod.


    ¡°Good, let¡¯s go,¡± I ordered, and strode forth toward the Planetary Governor¡¯s courthouse, where he should have been that day. In the distance, growing nearer with every pace, was screaming, explosions, and Bolter fire. It was not my intention to intercept the foe, and I would have rather sped beyond them¡ªif such a thing was even theoretically possible¡ªbut our destinations were the same, and I knew interception was an inevitability.


    It arrived thirty-two seconds after our initial departure, as the Iron Warrior detachment joined us in rushing into a city square. I cannot know what they took me for at the time, but I do know they would have recognized Lucene for what she was: a servant of the Throne, and therefore their archenemy. I counted eight of them, by sight, and in pulses of my psykana I felt no others on our front that we might engage with. As they pivoted toward us, I slid an open palm toward them and lurched it skyward, pulling them into the air by my psykana. Alas, my mind only managed to grip six, and though I tried to freeze them in place, their genetics and bionics worked tirelessly against me to wrestle their weapons toward us.


    The two I could not lift into the air broke from their detachment, running ahead and around us at superhuman speeds, faster than I could track with my eyes. Lucene, meanwhile, stepped forward, spraying a burst of five Bolt rounds into each of the Warriors I had lifted, one by one. But my mental strength was waning while their physical strengths were unmitigated. Their ability to move only ever improved, faster than the rate at which Lucene could shoot them.


    Danger, to my left. A premonition, divinatory in nature. It felt to my mind as though to be like the orbital bombardment I had ordered of Amnes Minoris long ago, and I reacted in kind, tossing a shield of my psykana to meet the threat. Four Bolt rounds stopped in their tracks near to me, but it would have been wrong to say they froze, as the criminals¡¯ autogun bullets had moments ago. The Bolts vibrated as their fuselage ever tried to press toward me, and then like clustermines the quartet exploded. My focus waned, and the six Warriors I had lifted fell to the ground. Four fell flat, killed by Lucene. Two landed intact, and reacted immediately. I sent one final wave of my psykana toward them, rupturing the ground at their feet and tearing into their adamantium armor with psychic lightning, but that was all I could do for Lucene.


    I had noted, to myself, upon seeing our foes that their helmets were beaked. Their armor was ancient, from the time of the Great Heresy ten thousand years ago. Despite the veterancy of their armor patterns, this detail suggested to me that our opposition was far from the best the Iron Warriors had to offer. I suspected these were recent adherents given old gear to prove themselves in. My suspicion proved correct, as the escapee that had fired upon me then evidenced in charging directly for me while I was shrouded in the smog of exploded Bolts. He must have believed the smoke would have kept him from my view and, coupled with the distraction of the explosion itself, that I would be unable to react.


    Not unwise in a vacuum, but negligent of my abilities as a psyker. I instead felt every step of his approach, and when he neared it was not he that was hidden from me, but vice versa. Drepane whisked out of the smoke and cleaved a hand from him while his other arm stabbed forth with a power claw. I had already sidestepped it, and in my motion, I cleanly bisected his skull with my power sword.


    I turned my attention back to Lucene, where she had¡ªfor her proximity¡ªswapped to her Eviscerator. I had bought her moments with which to do so and likely saved her life in the process. I bought her moments more with another burst of my psykana, unable to outright stop the Warriors in their tracks, but perfectly capable of giving them pause. I meant to do more for her, but sensed danger to my right, then. The other escapee. I dove forward out of the still-settling smoke and dust created by my first assailant, and blindly tossed a wave of lightning, provided by Drepane and motivated by my psykana, toward where I sensed the danger. I had done this once before to Foxon Silverman on Hestia Majoris, though he had dodged the attack.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    This Iron Warrior did not dodge it and instead barreled through it. His armor may have been scorched and in some places even splayed apart, but he showed no delay from the psychic assault regardless. Two Bolts were fired my way, and I parted the way between them both before dodging a power fist that had been propelled for my head, launched in a manner not unlike my own augmetic could manage. I sliced through the cabling connected to the power fist before tossing both of my power weapons toward the Astartes screaming¡ªfiguratively and verbally¡ªtoward me. He deflected both into the air with another power weapon, upon which time I raised my augmetic between us and fired my singular, only Bolt into his helmet. It kicked his head back, but did little to slow him down, though his recoil was all I wanted as my twinned blades rammed into his skull from behind, pulled toward me by my psykana. Each blade punched through the titanic Warrior¡¯s eyes, and my tremendous foe at last halted before me, my hand still raised to his face, palm out.


    I caught my breath for a moment in that position, and then when the Warrior fell to his knees, his bionics no longer being fed by his will, I crushed my blades through his skull and tossed them across the way once more. They caught the spinal column of the final Astartes still alive, Lucene having felled one in melee combat. Lucene pivoted to decapitate that final foe once and for all from there, upon which time I willed my weapons back to me for the last time, sheathing them on my waist.


    ¡°Eight seconds wasted. We must make haste,¡± I told her, and she nodded in reply. Without a further word, we ran through ever more city streets, leaving the detachment of dead demigods in our wake. Our journey ate most of the time allotted to us, though we did not see opposition again. At least, not of the combat sort. Soon, upon nearing our target¡ªthe Governor¡¯s stronghold, which was in panicked disarray as could be expected¡ªwe met resistance of a bureaucratic nature, needing to flash my Rosette time and again to make progress.


    Eventually, in the final minutes available to the world, we were able to arrive in the waiting area of a small, private spaceport, where a number of Guardsmen had crowded around an embattled Governor. ¡°Governor Sebastien Krandix?¡± I called out to the group of them. ¡°Inquisitor Callant Blackgar, Ordo Hereticus! We¡¯ve spoken before.¡±


    ¡°We have, yes, approach Inquisitor, hurry!¡± Krandix called back, though his form was, then, shrouded to me. The sea of Guardsmen parted only barely, and Lucene and I had to literally squeeze through to the small pocket Krandix was hiding in. ¡°Here for a ride?¡± he asked, a small shred of humor being all that remained of a once-jovial Governor.


    ¡°Information. Why are they here?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°Terra knows, but certainly not I!¡± he shouted, exasperated. ¡°My apologies for my tone, Inquisitor, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Save it, we haven¡¯t the time for apologies,¡± I cut him off. ¡°We¡¯re on a border world yes, and are thus a tactical consideration for the archenemy, but that would not require them to make landfall. You have something they want. What is it?¡±


    ¡°I cannot say, because I do not know!¡± he all but screeched, terrified as much by my presence as the encroaching threat from beyond.


    ¡°Has anything anomalous been brought to your attention recently? Anything at all?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°I¡¯m a Planetary Governor, Inquisitor Blackgar! Anomalies are an hourly occurrence!¡±


    ¡°Are there any that come to mind?¡± I seethed.


    ¡°There¡¯s¡­I¡­,¡± he started, then sighed and caught his breath. ¡°Navigators for merchants have been reporting murmurs, as unto a musing, in the Warp deeper into Ixaniad. These stories have come to the local Navigator¡¯s Nobilite and have caused quite a ruckus, as I understand it. But it is not something I know much at all about, just a tale I have heard of.¡±


    ¡°Good enough. We will speak more later, then. Is that your vessel?¡± I asked, nodding ahead.


    Governor Krandix turned around and nodded in glee. ¡°Yes, it is! Praise the Throne, there¡¯s a chance of esca¡ª¡± he began, but did not finish before I had drawn my Condemnor Bolter¡ªhanded to me by Lucene along our travels, and awarded to me after my efforts against the Phaenonites¡ªand blew the Governor¡¯s head off his shoulders.


    I was holding my Rosette when I did so, to dissuade the retaliation of the dozens of Guardsmen around us. ¡°Servitor, now!¡± I shouted, demanding the presence of one if any existed nearby. ¡°You two, strip the Governor of his attire. He will not be needing such garments any longer,¡± I ordered of a pair of Guardsmen. With minor hesitation¡ªended by my thrusting of my Rosette in their direction¡ªthey began to unclothe the corpse at my feet just as a servitor made way to me through the uneasy crowd. ¡°Servitor, don these clothes. You are now Planetary Governor for New Cealis; serve your people well. Everyone else, defend your Planetary Governor with your lives. My advice, blockade that doorway, and install mines upon whatever you use to block it off.¡±


    ¡°And you, Inquisitor?¡± a Guardsman asked. I did not mind the gall to question my fate.


    I answered as I made way to the Governor¡¯s planned escape vessel, it having landed upon the private spaceport after the Guardsman¡¯s question. ¡°I retreat to Quintus. Ixaniad must know that it is now at war. If I do not, the sacrifice of your world will be in vain. The Emperor of all Mankind watches you today. Die with honor. It will be a better fate than surviving to see the sun set upon this world. The Emperor protects. Lucene,¡± I called to her, stepping aboard the Governor¡¯s craft. She joined me, bowing to the Governor¡¯s defenders and making the Sign of the Aquila before departing further aboard our craft. ¡°You, pilot, take off at once. And I will need your wideband vox.¡±


    ¡°But, the Governor¡ª¡± the pilot protested before shirking away at the sight of my Rosette.


    ¡°Your Governor is dead. Take off, now, by order of the Holy Ordos of the Inquisition,¡± I commanded, sitting in the copilot¡¯s seat. Lucene strapped in to a seat behind me, and we took off into enflamed skies, moving at such a pace as to rock our tiny vessel as we hurtled through the atmosphere of New Cealis. Eventually, reddened skies faded away to a sheet of whites and greys, then eventually that gave way to the black abyss of the void. ¡°There will be no fleet to fly to. Ignore your established directive,¡± I ordered the pilot.


    ¡°Then where am I headed, Inquisitor?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Aim for the largest stretch of nothingness you can find,¡± I ordered. I reached for the vox transceiver then, turning the dial to a system-wide broadcast. ¡°Exigent Calamity looking to Sanctify Cold, come in, Cold.¡±


    ¡°The enemy will have heard that,¡± our pilot warned me.


    ¡°I know. Keep flying. Does this vessel have countermeasures?¡±


    ¡°Some, but only for missile lock-ons,¡± the pilot answered.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I am a countermeasure unto myself,¡± I sighed, leaning back in my seat, and gathered my breath. It would be some time before a response would be received from the intended recipient of my message. ¡°Lucene, status?¡±


    ¡°Praying, Cal.¡±


    ¡°Keep at it. We¡¯ll need your prayers today.¡±


    As if on cue, warning sirens began to blare, accompanied by flashing lights as red as the clothes Lucene once wore, as Penitent. ¡°We¡¯re made! Three fightercraft, on our six, two have locked weapons! Missile launch!¡± our pilot reported. ¡°Deploying countermeasures¡­now!¡±


    ¡°You need not narrate your actions, pilot. It will be easier for me if you do not,¡± I told him, closing my eyes and reaching out with my mind. It was no small challenge to track a trio of Swiftdeath Fighters moving at thousands of kilometers per hour through the dead of space, so I instead settled for trying to follow one. When I had done so, I reached inside, feeling about its crew, while in the meantime my body rocked this way and that from the evasive maneuvers of my own pilot. I tried not to let that distract me. Eventually, I found the mind of a serf who seemed to be an engineer. I suggested to his subconscious that he check the engine nuclei, and when he did so, I gave his subconscious a distracting flick, jittering his physical existence in the process. He thought little of it in the moment, but his eyes widened when he saw what the mental lapse had done, as his vessel¡¯s engine began to go critical.


    I left the serf then, and meant to fetch another on a different fighter as the first erupted into flames amidst the void, but was interrupted. ¡°Cold receiving. Provide coordinates and bearing,¡± came the response to my earlier voxchatter.


    ¡°Provide it, pilot,¡± I ordered.


    He did so over the vox, and then started, ¡°My name¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°We have no time for your name. Not now. Perhaps if we survive. Focus on the task at hand, pilot,¡± I warned him. I then reached for the vox myself. ¡°We are being pursued. Cold, approach with weapons primed. And prepare for immediate Warp Translation when we board.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never Translated before,¡± the pilot murmured.


    ¡°Focus,¡± I insisted, and then reached into my pilot¡¯s mind and filled it with psychic ease, trying to provide him with unnatural clarity. I then reached for the void again. I would not manage to tear our other two pursuers asunder, and not for lack of trying. My mental potency was nearing its end, and it was taking all I had just to follow along with one of them, let alone venture inside amidst its crew. I instead retracted my attention, focusing instead on the defense of our vessel, deflecting plasmacannons and detonating missiles before they struck us.


    Our flight from the foe lasted minutes more, but ended abruptly, as soon as my vessel, the Coldbreed, appeared out of the void before us. Its weapons turned upon the two Swiftdeaths still remaining, and though our foes tried to turn and flee, the Coldbreed incinerated them in instants, returning them to the black abyss of space. From there, docking and departing into the Warp was a simple business compared to the rest of the day, though that is not to say Warp travel is ever simple.


    A day of death had ended. Many would soon follow.

 Chapter 66 - Apocrypha I

    In the words of Valeran Mortoc, Captain, Shatter Corps


    It is said the first casualty of war is truth. This is meant as an abstract, that lies are disseminated to rouse a populace into acceptance of the warfare and bloodshed ahead. But as we aim to prosecute our war against the Ixaniad Sector, I recognize a more literal interpretation. The cowardly Imperium we aim to smash through gorges itself on lies of its own making, and has for a hundred centuries. Its Ecclesiarchy is the villainous architect of these lies, its Inquisition the dreaded propagator. These lies, under the fa?ade of truths, serve as a point of vulnerability to be exploited by our grand conquest. Once the shields of their lies are sundered each blade that hid behind them will falter and the rest will fall in line.


    And so I turn my attention to the voices that spout these lies from the tops of citadels and the depths of space. I see the threat levied by the holier-than-thou Inquisition and will lop the head from such a beast that the body may die. They may be the mere mouthpiece as mentioned, but in their absence, in silence, we will face no meaningful opposition. Thus is the stratagem of our war.


    Warsmiths, they call our leaders, for they forge engines of the craft from the mechanical and the blessed seas beyond our own. I am not a Warsmith of their caliber, but I do not want to be. If I were to be a Warsmith, I would want the title for the crafting of ruinous, overwhelming fronts, for the creation of unbridled and relentless campaigns against our enemies. Let the little men of tin and robes make their toys¡ªit is the force of men and the strategy behind them that wins our wars. I do not fully disparage our Mechanicum allies, for without them we would not have our arms or vessels¡ªsave for that which we have reclaimed from the undeserving hands of the Imperium, mind you. But I have not known tinkerers to accomplish more than that. A Warrior, particularly one of Iron, is capable of more than merely fighting, and it is that breadth of capability that I put greater valuation into. It is that which I would smith of us all, if I could.


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    For nineteen standard centuries, I have been in or commanded campaigns involving the obliteration of the weak and the subjugation of those strong enough to call themselves our serfs. There is a plethora of weakness in this galaxy, and in truth there is so much so that I have forgotten the many names it has wielded over time. They are not worth remembering. But I have, on occasion, remembered the strong. Zakarian. A simple Guardsman of a world now subsumed by the Warp. He was the first to show evidence of proper strength, beyond merely the physical, of his relentless character and willpower. I did break his mind, eventually, but he and his regiment were of suitable diligence and dignity to warrant their continued existence under our banner.


    One must recognize the strengths of their conquered foes, lest one succumb to those who embody past talents to a heightened degree of competence. Likewise, to that end, one must maintain cognizance of who they intend to destroy. In turning my attention to the Inquisition of Ixaniad, I have had my scouts profile its most prolific Agents. Callant Blackgar was the first name they returned with, for it was he that wrestled the Hestian operation to obliteration, he that took our Phaenonite allies from us. But my scouts dismissed him on rank when they identified the Inquisitor Lords of the Sector. Halloid van der Skar. Hargro. Caliman. Lycia. Kanin. A whole host of others. My scouts were adamant that van der Skar was the most dangerous of the group, and to some extent I agree, but not in the sense my scouts intended in their reports. I have understood van der Skar to be a man capable of surrounding himself with capable allies, and it is men such as he that do command a presence and long-term consideration. But it is those allies of his, particularly those born of warfare, who may pose the greatest threat in an escalated conflict. The former Commissars then. Caliman. And, returned from the earlier dismissal, Blackgar. It is them that I most worry about, that I most expect to bleed us dry.


    It is them from whom I anticipate strength worth subjugating, for I believe they possess Iron in their veins.


    Iron Within, Iron Without!

 Chapter 67 - Debate

    ¡°I concur, that¡¯s an excellent strategy if you want to get us all killed, Lord Kanin,¡± I objected, being met with raucous roars of dissent and agreement alike.


    ¡°What, is the undying Inquisitor afraid of facing the foes he is required to slay?¡± Lord Inquisitor Kanin shot back and was met with equal¡ªbut opposite¡ªresponses from our Inquisitorial allies and rivals on the war council.


    ¡°The things I fear in life, Kanin, you do not have the contextual knowledge to speak of¡ªnot that that¡¯s stopped you before,¡± I grilled.


    ¡°Yet for your limitless years, you remain an insufferable runt all the same!¡± Kanin scoffed. ¡°I will not be criticized by a walking heresy! My proposed plan will save countless¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your proposed plan will exterminate the Ixaniad Sector, and you¡¯re too damn zealous to comprehend why,¡± I interrupted him.


    ¡°I will not stand for this! We all know it was a mistake to let Blackgar live in the first place; why do we let him on this council even so?¡± Kanin objected to the crowd.


    ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar was invited to this council decades before you were, Kanin,¡± Caliman growled. ¡°This has been his fight for far longer than you have had the thought to involve yourself.¡±


    ¡°Neither statement answers my question! And of course the two former Commissars in the room defend each other! Brothers to the last, is that it? Why do we tolerate Blackgar¡¯s continued existence?¡± Kanin roared. ¡°Would it not be simpler to kill him now and move on with this discussion?¡±


    ¡°You will lose your head long before Cal is even scratched, you wretch,¡± Lucene promised him, standing to my back but leaning over me to press her message closer to Kanin.


    ¡°Apologies, Sister, for in vying for your husband¡¯s demise, I have omitted calls for the same fate to befall you. The whole lot of you, his entire retinue! Tainted by the works of our archenemy! And yet you¡¯re here, on a war council deciding the fate of a Sector, of all places!¡± Kanin all but shrieked.


    ¡°Because unlike you, you parasitic leech of others¡¯ success, my retinue is charged with the protection of this Sector, as we have done for centuries now. I care little for the fate you would wish of me. You and I are of little significance. What matters is the Sector, and the defense thereof; we are the first and last wall keeping Obscurus from ruination¡ªto that end, your proposals are laughable at best and more heretical than my existence at worst,¡± I returned.


    ¡°I will not listen to one more word from a tainted Inquisitor or his vile retinue. I will not! Thy kind is fated to bring us only unto damnation! Better to lose the Sector, nay, the Segmentum, than surrender to its heretical defenders. This is our very charge, my friends, the oath we swore to uphold,¡± Kanin entreated of his allies in the room. He then returned his gaze to meet my glare. ¡°Throne help us if we hear thy words. Throne help us all if we give in to thy kind.¡±


    A great many Inquisitors opened mouths to retort, myself included, but we were all cut off by the emotionless droning of the Machine Spirit, and its owner, in the room. ¡°Calculations complete. Strategic analysis of combat simulation established based on known estimations of enemy forces,¡± Techsorcist Massino Varnus declared, speaking to my right. ¡°Lord Inquisitor Kanin¡¯s proposed strategy has an estimated 34.63% success rate. Survival of Quintus fortress: Unlikely. Survival of Ixaniad Sector: Unlikely. Resultant status of Ixaniad Sector: Compromised and subjugated. Overall analysis: Dimwitted. Recourse: Suggest alternative approach.¡±


    ¡°And does Inquisitor Blackgar have a strategy on hand, or is this heated display for nothing?¡± Lord Inquisitor Lycia asked the room, but mostly of me. Even so, it was Varnus who chimed in again before I was able to respond.


    ¡°As hypothesized to me in M41.976, Inquistor Blackgar¡¯s approach is simulated with a 57.44% success rate against known forces. Survival of Quintus fortress: Unlikely. Survival of Ixaniad Sector: Likely. Resultant status of Ixaniad Sector: Intruded upon, but largely unharmed. Overall analysis: Optimal¡ªenemy fleet, even if victorious at Quintus, will be functionally unable to engage in further expansion into the Sector. Massive casualties expected on both sides of engagement,¡± Varnus reported.


    ¡°And what good is the word of a biased Techsorcist, who by his trade already dabbles in heresy, enraptured by a fallen Inquisitor?¡± Kanin decried.


    ¡°Do you dare question the word of the Omnissiah?¡± Varnus replied, no hints of emotion on his voice, yet I sensed Kanin may not have been long for the Sector if he did not tread carefully.


    ¡°I dare not, no¡ªI only question you. Would the Techsorcist even know if he was corrupt?¡± Kanin suggested. Eyes fell to Varnus.


    ¡°Would the Lord Inquisitor even know if he was an idiot?¡± Varnus replied, getting a grin out of me as much for the insult as for the simplicity of the phrase¡ªnot a common thing for my Mechanicum friend. ¡°Historically, evidence suggests not. My operational acuity is not compromised. Do you have the diagnostics to say the same?¡±


    ¡°Watch your tone, tech-priest! You are an honored guest in these halls, nothing more¡ªdo not taint that honor with your wit, especially not when it is that which is being called into question!¡± Kanin grilled him.


    ¡°My tonal inflection has not changed in three centuries. Likewise, the presence of inadequacy in positions of power also appears to be a constant. You make a notable addition to my records,¡± Varnus stated matter-of-factly. ¡°My wit is only concerned with the destruction of the enemy. In no uncertain terms, Lord Inquisitor Kanin, you do not have the ability to visit the Omnissiah¡¯s wrath upon our mutual foe. This is irrelevant, as I have already found an Inquisitor capable of the task at hand. Whether you intend to die for your idiotic pride is irrelevant likewise. If this council is more concerned with its pride than with the demise of its foes, than I am wasting my time¡ªand holy clock cycles of the Omnissiah¡ªhere,¡± Varnus declared, and then looked to me, nodded, and departed from the room at once.


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    For once in its decades-long history, the war council endured embarrassed silence for a time, most of all Kanin. Lord Inquisitor Halloid van der Skar broke the tentative peace. ¡°One wonders how many holy clock cycles have been lost in this room,¡± he suggested, being met with a collection of chuckling laughs from all sides of the war council. van der Skar had aged considerably since I had seen him last; I did not see him during or after the Phaenonite affair, instead last seeing him shortly after my reunion with Lucene, at the end of my figurative house arrest. It had been nearly 150 years since then. His hair had vanished entirely, and his flesh had withered, but I was not so na?ve as to suggest any part of him appeared weakened. The same could be said of Lord Caliman, all in all, though I had seen Caliman¡¯s deteriorating age firsthand through the years.


    ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar will profess his approach to us. We will hear it and respond to the merits of its contents. And for those who worry I am going soft on a subordinate of mine: you are exactly right; I am. You would not be in the wrong to voice your displeasure to me after this meeting, but you would be in the wrong to question the dedication with which Inquisitor Blackgar has given of himself to this Sector. For now, within the confines of these walls, the only discourse of any value is that which intends to defend the Sector. To speak of otherwise is to besmirch the designs of the Holy Ordos, and I need not explain to any of you how heretical such a thing may be,¡± van der Skar declared. Caliman, and a few others, nodded in solemn assent before the whole group turned to me. Kanin did not, instead looking away from me in a scowl aimed at van der Skar. I was sure van der Skar noticed, but he did not acknowledge Kanin.


    I cleared my throat and then addressed the council. ¡°They must attack us twice. We must invite that conflict to our doorstep. It is imperative that they attack us twice. We will sustain heavy casualties in both conflicts, if even we survive the first. But we must.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Caliman asked.


    ¡°They do not know the forces we will have here, but they can guess. They will assume we will pull in some of Battlefleet Ixaniad to assist us, and we should, but when they come for us, their initial assault will be to test us. It may well be that we fail such a test and are overwhelmed, but if we succeed, then the second assault will be given with the intent to destroy us in one fell swoop. Our enemy fights a protracted campaign across dozens of worlds; they will not direct the entirety of their forces to one single front if they can help it, even though they know we¡¯ll put up a fight,¡± I explained. ¡°Point being, the enemy is playing a game of resource management. We must do the same. We must keep some resources in reserve, hidden from the strategic knowledge of our foes. So even when we call upon Battlefleet Ixaniad for assistance, we must not show the entirety of our hand all at once.¡±


    ¡°Cowardice!¡± Kanin decried, unable to contain himself. ¡°I hear your words Lord van der Skar and I do understand them, but what Blackgar insists upon is cowardice! When the enemy comes we should burn the sockets of their eyes out from the sheer volume of lance batteries in our arsenal. What good is a reserve if it is not used?¡±


    ¡°Let us listen a little further yet, Lord Kanin,¡± Lord Inquisitor Lycia suggested. ¡°After all, the clock cycles were not kind to your 34.6%,¡± she noted in a sly grin. It occurred to me that Varnus would have corrected her to 34.63%, but I thought better of the correction. ¡°Continue, Inquisitor Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°If we survive the first fleet that lays siege to Quintus, its remnants will report back to whatever horrors they keep within the Warp. They will speak of the damage they caused and the remnants of our forces. Yes, they will expect us to reinforce ourselves for a second assault, but we must do so well beyond their expectations. Hence the keeping of some of our vessels in reserve. When the second fleet arrives, it must be met with the overwhelming power Lord Kanin desires, as retreat will not be considered an eventuality for it initially, as the first fleet will have known. Furthermore, it is also imperative that the first fleet not be chased after¡ª¡± I started, but was again interrupted by Kanin.


    ¡°Again, why? All the better, hm, if it cannot report to its master fleet, no?¡± Kanin asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Caliman shook his head in disdain.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°You really are an idiot, aren¡¯t you?¡± Caliman grinned. ¡°For once I miss that admech.¡±


    ¡°Caliman,¡± van der Skar chided in a sigh.


    ¡°Even if the first fleet is completely destroyed after its retreat, that will merely signal to the master fleet that we already possessed a great amount of power here, and will invite far more significant a response than we may be able to handle. But more likely, any pursuers of the first fleet will find themselves poised against the second, and will wastefully die in vain, resources being spent on pride, rather than defense,¡± I explained.


    ¡°I have a question of numbers, Blackgar,¡± van der Skar approached.


    ¡°Please,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°As an estimate, how much of Battlefleet Ixaniad do you believe would be required for your plan?¡± he asked me. ¡°I need not remind you that it is stretched thin responding to threats all throughout the Sector, and we are but one world¡ªeven if an important one.¡±


    ¡°It is a fair question. When I first gave my proposal to Varnus last year, I had been conservative in my estimates. Fifteen, twenty percent of Battlefleet Ixaniad. I think these values can still manage the task of crippling the second fleet to prevent it from venturing further into the Sector,¡± I answered.


    ¡°And for defeating the second fleet?¡± van der Skar asked.


    ¡°Thirty percent?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Thirty percent of an entire Sector¡¯s Battlefleet is a tall order, Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± Lycia noted.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware, so it is not part of my strategy. There are tremendous benefits to utilizing such a subsidiary of the fleet, least of all the survival of Quintus, but where the survival of Ixaniad is concerned, I have not planned for such a boon,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Elaborate on these benefits,¡± van der Skar suggested.


    ¡°Well other than our own chances of survival improving considerably, rather than crippling the second fleet we could break it here. And when it flees, we could then give chase, hunting the wretched traitors down. Yes, we would expose our flanks a bit¡ªother parts of the Sector having been taken by the heretic Astartes. But if those fronts chased after us in our pursuit into their territory, the remaining seventy percent of Battlefleet Ixaniad could recapture what was lost,¡± I offered.


    ¡°You would use thirty percent of a Battlefleet in a suicide run against the enemy?¡± Caliman asked quietly.


    ¡°I would use thirty percent of a Battlefleet to kill the enemy,¡± I corrected.


    A pause fell over the room. Even Kanin was giving my proposal consideration, then. As before, van der Skar broke the silence, though this time not with a joke. ¡°What about twenty-five percent?¡±

 Chapter 68 - Transhuman

    ¡°Forgive me, Inquisitor, but you want me to¡­run at them?¡± Sergeant Santinus Astal, of the Red Hunters, asked me, confusion on his voice. I smirked, aware of the absurdity of the request, but nodded all the same. Before I could vocalize my confirmation, however, a Tempestus Scion spoke of similar confusion.


    ¡°And you just want us to stay here and, what, stay where we are? Is that all there is to this training?¡± the Scion asked. These Scions were not mine, but rather a regiment stationed on Quintus itself. It was not uncommon for Inquisitors to train and, on occasion, take Scions to meet their own needs. As my needs were the defense of Quintus and the Sector, I could do what I wanted with them without any other Inquisitors asking questions.


    ¡°Yes, to both of you,¡± I confirmed at last, nodding again. ¡°Empty-handed at first, Sergeant, and quiet as you can, but full-sprint all the same. We¡¯ll start as simple as reasonable,¡± I ordered of Santinus. ¡°Form ranks!¡± I shouted to the Scions, and they did so, albeit begrudgingly and dismissively. I knew that would not last, so did not waste time chastising them for their reluctance. ¡°At your ready, Sergeant Astal.¡±


    The Red Hunters Astartes Sergeant was ever-ready, and sprang forth.


    In a moment, the Scions¡¯ eyes widened. Some instinctively tried to raise their weapons against an allied target out of sheer fear of the titanic, angry red mass barreling toward them. Some of our most disciplined Scions had the wherewithal to turn tail and break ranks, others cowering and quivering at the sight of something so large moving so fast. It was, for human beings, not possible to imagine. Perhaps for a beast on all fours, maybe such speeds could be reached. But for a humanoid, weighed down by such heavy armor as the ceramite and adamantium shell the Astartes donned? No, it defied reason. And yet it charged toward them at a horrifying pace all the same.


    When Santinus reached what used to be their lines, there were not all that many of the Scions remaining. Most had fled. Some had left the scene altogether, and may have needed to be processed for psychological trauma. As Santinus turned back to face me, leaving the quivering Scions in his wake, I leaned to my right, bumping shoulders with Mirena. She had been with me the whole time, and had been standing with her arms crossed over her chest up until the point at which Santinus made his charge. Upon seeing his sprint from the less-terrifying rear view, Mirena¡¯s composure had broken too. ¡°Still want a field post?¡± I whispered to her.


    ¡°Shut up, Cal,¡± she replied, certainly loud enough for the hall to hear. I grinned.


    ¡°I assume that¡¯s a no,¡± I whispered, still smiling, and then waved Santinus back to us. From a brief pause and tension in his movements, I think he may have initially intended to run back our way. But he thought better of that, for our sake, and instead marched toward us normally. ¡°Form ranks!¡± I called to the broken Scions. ¡°Can hardly fault you for what you¡¯re feeling now, Mirena,¡± I whispered to her in the meantime, aware that it would take a while for the Scions to recompose themselves.


    ¡°We¡¯ll speak of it later, Cal,¡± she murmured.


    ¡°Fair enough. I expect we¡¯ll be waiting a while for them, though,¡± I shrugged, nodding toward the Scions¡¯ lines. ¡°If you want to leave¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I grinned again. I then reached for her left hand with my right, and while the spark of independence saw it twitch in a recoil away from me, she accepted and returned my grasp all the same. As I spoke to the still-shaken Scions, then, Mirena leaned against me, still holding my hand. ¡°Is that all?¡± I called to them, quoting an earlier Scion¡¯s query, and then scoffed out a laugh. ¡°Transhuman Dread. It¡¯s real. It¡¯ll kill you if you let it. The Astartes are incredible warriors, all of them. I would besmirch the foe we are about to face a thousand times, but I cannot deny their abilities; that sort of negligence would cost lives, yours and mine. Those of you that ran would die quickly and on the spot, as the Astartes could not risk you getting away and possibly reinforcing later lines. Those of you that fell to base preservation instincts and collapsed on the spot would die moments later, after the foe had secured the area in your presence, like the cleansing of cattle from a camp. Those few foolish enough to remain holding your ground, congratulations, you are heroes of the Imperium. Of course, this was the easy test.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not right,¡± one Scion muttered of Santinus¡¯s movements.


    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t. But it¡¯s real. You need to recognize that, because you¡¯ll need to kill it,¡± I replied. ¡°And they are killable. For two centuries I have claimed I was up to the task, but in truth I never faced a true Astartes until only recently. But I¡¯m still here. And I killed a number of them. They can die. It¡¯ll take everything you have, and many will suffer in bringing even one down, but it can and must happen for the good of the Imperium of Man. But how can you kill something if you cannot even aim at it? I said form ranks! We try again! Sergeant, brandish your chainsword this time. Let it sing a song to lull those crybabies to compliance!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Inquisitor,¡± Sergeant Astal nodded, and drew his chainsword. It was about the size of Lucene¡¯s Eviscerator, but looked, in his hands, like an ordinary blade. ¡°At your command.¡±


    ¡°Go,¡± I ordered, and then squeezed at Mirena¡¯s grip as Sergeant Astal ran forth again, revving his chainsword in the air. Mirena, likewise, squeezed my hand at the sight and sound of his charge. The Scions¡¯ lines tore asunder much more quickly. ¡°I expect I¡¯ll be at this a while,¡± I whispered to Mirena. ¡°In all seriousness, are you sure you want to stay?¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯d be by your side until the end of days, Cal,¡± she reminded me, and then rose her head up despite her terror. ¡°I meant it.¡±


    ¡°You impress in ways you cannot know, Mirena,¡± I assured her. ¡°You and I will need a vacation, not merely a flight, if we get through this one.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± she replied, and managed a gentle, uneasy smirk.


    ¡°I hope you will,¡± I nodded, and then waved Sergeant Astal back. ¡°Form ranks!¡± I shouted at the top of my lungs, as the Scions were quite separated by then.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never doubted you, Cal, but did you actually kill traitor Astartes with Lucene on New Cealis?¡± Mirena asked in subtle amazement.


    ¡°We did.¡±


    ¡°Then you impress in ways you cannot know, likewise, Callant,¡± she answered. ¡°I must say, you know how to keep a girl interested,¡± she added with a grin.


    ¡°Had a few years to practice that,¡± I replied, also grinning.


    ¡°It may pay off,¡± she giggled, squeezing at my hand some more.


    ¡°Too many insinuations there for a married man like myself,¡± I noted, earning another chuckle from her. I then addressed the Scions again. ¡°Well? What then, hm? What¡¯ll it take for you lot to hold your ground rather than pissing in the Imperium¡¯s garments? I¡¯ve seen braver men of reduced discipline than you sorry bastards claim to wield. I¡¯ve seen them live. I¡¯ve seen them die. When you die, will you be remembered as something to look up to or¡­as whatever the pitiful excuse of a man this is? I said form ranks! Dorn¡¯s taint! Do I need to come over there?¡± I turned to Mirena. ¡°I think I need to go over there.¡±


    ¡°Then go over there,¡± she grinned. I leaned toward her, kissed one of her endlessly-beautiful bronze cheeks, and then left her side to march toward the Scions.


    ¡°Alright you sniveling runts, form up on me,¡± I shouted to them when I neared. Now with a leader to follow, they at last began to come together. ¡°There are only three places I want your eyes, now: my backside, that Astartes, or the scope of your rifles. Don¡¯t look at the woman¡ªshe¡¯s not mine and she¡¯s sure as Dorn¡¯s Left Hand not yours either. Hold. This. Line! Do you understand me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± they shouted back.


    ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± I sneered, and then turned to Santinus and Mirena. ¡°Sergeant Astal, try to kill me!¡± I shouted to him, catching the pair of them off guard.


    ¡°Excuse me, Inquisitor?¡± he replied, again seeking clarification.


    ¡°Well I¡¯d prefer if you not actually do it, but try to,¡± I answered. I then raised my left arm, brandishing the augmetic before him. ¡°If it¡¯d make compliance simpler for you, attack in a way that this arm could defend, as it¡¯d best match your strength. Chainsword only, I don¡¯t want Bolts flying around these halls yet. But at your ready, Sergeant.¡±


    ¡°I am ready, Inquisitor,¡± he nodded to me.


    ¡°Good. End me, then,¡± I ordered, and he shot forth. How many times had I seen it then, the view of being the target of a sprint from an Astartes? More than a dozen times, I think, between my enemies and allies. Yet still, it unnerved me. But the experience had hardened me all the same, and while I paused for what would have been an invaluable moment in the heat of battle, in this training it was only that moment. After the fear passed, I left the Scions¡¯ ranks and charged toward Santinus to meet him head on, each of us, Inquisitor and Astartes, shouting furious cries of war.


    When we met, power sword met chainsword, and the revving of the chain weapon sizzled and stammered against the crackle of electrified adamantium. My augmetic arm sparked and creaked against the might of Santinus¡¯s overwhelmingly enhanced strength, but that did not deter me from holding my own, looking into the jade eyes of his red and gold helmet. As his strength weighed against me, though, and my footing slid against the plascrete floors below, I knew I needed to change gears. My other arm shot to a laspistol on my waist and drew it forth, but Santinus smacked it aside as soon as I pointed the weapon toward him.


    In practice, in a true life-or-death scenario, I of course had my mind to wield. But none of the Scions were psykers of my caliber (or at all), so that would have ruined the demonstration.


    So I instead relinquished my footing and my position against Santinus¡¯s blade, stepping back and parrying a pair of similar attacks he made. Then, when his movements had shown a moment of overextension, I drew Drepane fast as I could and pointed it to his neck with my free hand. That was all. That was enough. We held there for a moment, chainsword still revving and power weapons still humming, while in the meantime the result of the battle sunk in to those involved and those viewing.


    +You held back.+


    You¡¯re a fine warrior, Inquisitor.


    +You held back.+


    We can spar again if needed, my apologies.


    +No. Thank you, Sergeant.+


    Finally I broke away from the Astartes and turned to face the Scions. ¡°You held your ground,¡± I noted to them, and their then-awe faded to a brief glimmer of happiness for themselves. I crushed it in an instant. ¡°You did not hold the line,¡± I scowled, then used my blades to gesture to the gap in space between us. ¡°Why have I charged this Marine on my own? Where were you when his weapons went for my neck? Easy to hold one¡¯s ground when someone else rushes forth suicidally to meet the odds ahead. It¡¯s far harder to be that someone. When the true battle is fought, I will not be here by your sides. Will you hold your ground then? Will you meet and kill the true enemy? Look at him!¡± I roared, and¡ªweapons now sheathed¡ªraised a hand to Santinus. ¡°Take a good long look! He is not impossible! He is right there before you! And when a half dozen Astartes march upon you, Bolters ablaze and chain weapons screaming, they will be as real as Sergeant Astal! I said hold this line! They can be killed, I have shown it and I will show it again! But the time is coming for you to prove it too. Throne Almighty!¡± I exclaimed, aghast, and returned to Mirena¡¯s side, taking Santinus with me. ¡°Again! Form ranks! Sergeant Astal, chainsword, battlecries, Bolter in hand¡ªbut don¡¯t shoot them, of course. We¡¯ll be here until the will of man exceeds the terror of their designs, even if it takes all day and night!¡±


    I turned to Mirena to warn her that I meant it, but she already knew, and answered, ¡°What did I say, Cal?¡±


    ¡°Right. When you¡¯re ready, Sergeant,¡± I told him, and after another nod, he ran forth for the Scions¡¯ lines once more, shattering them in an instant. ¡°Going to be a while,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°I expect so. But hey, some quality time together for you and me,¡± she smiled.


    ¡°Form ranks! So, how¡¯re things with Castecael?¡± I asked her, waving Santinus back.


    ¡°Good enough. She¡¯s still as beautiful as the day you hired her. One can only hope she feels the same about me.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she grinned. ¡°Still, we¡¯ve been together for 170 years. It¡¯s quite the time for a relationship. She¡­there was a time when I was the more¡­adventurous one. When I was the polygamous one. Still am, if you¡¯re curious. But she¡¯s been experimenting now too.¡±


    ¡°Is that strenuous on a relationship?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Probably was for her when I was sleeping on top of you only a few years into our relationship,¡± she acknowledged with a nod and a grin fueled by the whimsy of the past. ¡°But now? After so long? No, not really. You and Lucene have been together a while. Do you not branch out?¡±


    ¡°Not beyond flirtatious interactions such as these,¡± I replied. ¡°Again, same as before, Santinus.¡±


    ¡°¡®Flirtatious interactions.¡¯ Is this your idea of a date, Cal?¡± she laughed.


    ¡°Depends. Is it a good one so far?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had better,¡± she smiled. ¡°Bit noisy, all this. I¡¯m more of a quiet, cuddly gal in private. Perhaps on our vacation, hm? We should start planning.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave that planning to you,¡± I grinned. ¡°Form ranks! Don¡¯t tell me you sorry lot are praying to the Holy Throne right now! The Throne cares not for your combat drills, busy Him with nothing beyond your actual battles!¡±

 Chapter 69 - Station

    While normally my eyes would have been hard to pull off her, for now my gaze lurked in the shadow of her form as she stood over me and my starcharts. I had not been so infatuated with maps since plotting the Amnes Minoris operation with Caliman some decades ago. ¡°Are you even listening to me, Cal?¡± Mirena asked, a touch of flame on her lips, but not from anger. It was an eager tone, a hint of personal zealotry from someone I knew to be otherwise levelheaded.


    ¡°I am,¡± I answered without looking up at her, instead moving a few models on the map to note a world recently lost to our foe.


    ¡°Well then? What say you? I don¡¯t know what we¡¯re going to be up against, but I know there will be voidships involved and that you¡¯ll need fighters¡ªin the naval sense. I also know I won¡¯t be much use as infantry otherwise. So, Cal, may I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed, and she paused, struck in shock for a moment. She was not anticipating my approval. She said nothing further while I poured over my maps for a few moments more, after which I finally looked up at her. I saw a touch of doubt in her face¡ªdoubt that I was indeed listening to her request and doubt that had I been listening I would have approved it. ¡°I will need fighters, yes. And you are the best one this side of Cadia, so I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    ¡°I thought my ego told you I was the best in the galaxy,¡± she suggested, slowly adapting a soft smile on her lips.


    ¡°Jury¡¯s still out on that one,¡± I returned. In the background, the rest of my immediate, most-trusted retinue was funneling into the meeting room, as I had asked of them. I, then, addressed them all. ¡°Welcome, my friends, thank you for coming. We¡¯ve been close over the decades, haven¡¯t we? As like a family among the stars. Such is why my orders to follow pain me so, for I will ask that we plunge into the darkness apart from one another. I¡­,¡± I began, looking in the faces of my dearest friends, and stumbled on account of the years we had shared together. ¡°We have faced death before. We have lost our own before. I think, by the end of this campaign, not all of us will remain. You¡¯ve all been in the game long enough not to need me to inspire you to act despite that, so I won¡¯t patronize you with my commissarial side. I¡¯ll skip to your marching orders, then, as I know that in life or death, you will each achieve your objectives.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you need of us, boss,¡± Luther nodded to me. He had, over the years, begun to age, even despite the rejuvenat. He still seemed lively enough to be as wonderful a soldier as he had ever been, but the greying of hair and the wearing of skin had begun for him, he having declined Absalom¡¯s curse shortly after the approval of its cure.


    I nodded to myself for a moment, and then began addressing each of my allies individually. I felt as though I were back on trial after Hestia Majoris, with my allies receiving their sentencing while I awaited mine. I think, in a way, that was a more accurate comparison than I wanted it to be. ¡°Mirena, since you were asking for it for years, I have requisitioned a Fury Interceptor for you, along with its necessary crew, including an astropath. Do what you do best, but I will have dynamic orders for you as the situation changes. Follow them. My orders will not be merely to keep you alive¡ªthough I will try¡ªbut also for a grander strategy at play, and I will not approve a pilot who will disrupt such tactics. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°To the letter,¡± she nodded to me.


    ¡°Good. Silas, Luther, you will have similar jobs to each other. I anticipate boarding parties from our foe, human, abhuman, and Astartes alike. Ensure they do not get far. You will have your teams to work with, as you¡¯ve established them, along with any men and women aboard Quintus that you feel you need¡ªdo not hesitate to ask me for reinforcements. This will be a two-phase operation. In the first, you will both be on Quintus. In the second, Luther, you will return to your post on the Ebon Shrike while Silas returns to the Echoshroud. In either phase, your roles are the same: prevent and thwart boarding engagements.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t take an inch on our shores, Cal,¡± Silas confirmed for me, while Luther nodded in agreement. Silas had taken to the ¡®Cal¡¯ nomenclature following insistence from myself and Mirena. Luther had yet to, still referring to me as ¡®boss¡¯ or ¡®sir.¡¯ One day, perhaps, he would come around too.


    ¡°Xavier, you will be my eyes and ears for Phase One. We will have a reserve fleet hidden in the Warp¡ªcomprised of our own vessels as well as some of Battlefleet Ixaniad; you and the Lord Orthus will be among that reserve. For Phase One, I need to know the scope of the threat we¡¯re up against, and of their movements in the Warp. We will keep in touch. Come Phase Two, you and the rest of the reserve will join us in the Materium, where you and your unit must serve as a battery against their greater forces. This¡­will place you in some danger, as the enemy will recognize your importance¡ªsuch is why I will not risk damage to you or your vessel during Phase One. We will do our best to keep them off you, but you will offer us a defense, in turn, that no other vessel can reciprocate. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, I do,¡± Gradshi confirmed. Likewise with Luther, Gradshi remained stalwart in the ¡®sir¡¯ terminology. Old habits die hard, I suppose. ¡°Where concerns the mind, there has ever been a risk. We will manage it.¡±


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    ¡°Thank you,¡± I smiled, nodding knowingly. ¡°Castecael, your role may sound simple, but I¡¯m sure you understand as well as I do that it is anything but. Battlefield medicae support, here on Quintus and on supporting vessels. While Mirena takes to our defense in the void, I will assume her logistics role myself. Anything you need, you have, carte blanche. The only bureaucracy you need worry about is the communication between you and me; I will handle the rest. But the casualties are doomed to mount. I cannot help you there.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Cal. Thank you. We¡¯ll keep our men and women in the fight, best as they can,¡± she assured me.


    ¡°I know you will. They and the Throne will be grateful for your aid. Galen,¡± I started, turning to my Knightly friend. ¡°I have what may at first sound like disappointing news.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I figured a Castellan would find little purchase in a void battle, nor is it small enough to suitably deter boarding parties from stalking our halls,¡± he sighed, nodding knowingly.


    ¡°Indeed. However, there is a task for you yet. Quintus, the planet down below. We are evacuating the R&D sites as we can, but there are planetary batteries for orbital defense on the surface that we intend to utilize. We¡¯ll use them in Phase 1 of our engagement, though we do not anticipate our foe will be able to react to their presence before Phase 1 concludes. They will likely scan the surface world for the defenses of these surface-to-orbit platforms during Phase 1, so I will not want you among their scans at first. You¡¯ll be deployed in Phase 2, not unlike Xavier, with your task being the elimination of any enemy that lands on the planet to sabotage our defense platforms. However, your survival is paramount¡ªI will have great need of your services in a protracted campaign against the enemy, should we survive to wage it.¡±


    ¡°Ha! This is not the first time I¡¯ve fought our traitorous once-Angels, but this time I get to take them by surprise? I will keep your world intact and slaughter what fools their futility thrusts upon it. Worry not for my survival in that regard, Blackgar,¡± Galen all but scoffed, offering me a confident thumbs¡¯ up in addition to his boasting. ¡°Here¡¯s to this campaign of yours, then, for the possibility of a real fight for once.¡±


    ¡°Careful what you wish for, Galen,¡± I muttered, shaking my head. ¡°Alright, well, the rest of you are with me, albeit in different roles. Congratulations. Ms. Trantos, I will want you by my side in the war room on the Dawnshadow and the Coldbreed for Phases 1 and 2 of our defense, respectively. You¡¯re familiar with our planned strategems, yes?¡±


    ¡°Intimately, Mr. Blackgar, yes,¡± Zha confirmed.


    ¡°Good. Help me coordinate our response, then, as the battles unfold, but understand that our war room is bound to be dangerous. It will be a prime target for the enemy¡ªsafer to assume they will know where we are than to arrogantly believe ourselves impervious. Lucene, you and your Mission will be charged with the defense of the war room from the enemy. You will have assistance in this regard, no doubt, from our allied Inquisitors. But be wary of that assistance all the same. Which brings me to you, Bliss. I am tasking you with the personal defense of myself as well as of Ms. Trantos. Defense against the enemy, yes, but also from conniving Inquisitors we will be sharing a room with. The middle of a warzone is a perfect time to stage a political assassination, and I intend to look after myself and my own as best I can from my peers in the Inquisition. If you see anything anomalous, report it to me at once or handle it at your own discretion as your judgment deems fit. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Cal/Callant,¡± Lucene/Bliss agreed with nods of their own. Lucene then queried, ¡°Will my Mission and I be in the war room itself with you, or in its surrounding chambers?¡±


    ¡°You may deploy yourself and your forces as you see fit; I will not infringe upon your autonomy and expertise in that regard,¡± I answered, shaking my head. ¡°Any other questions?¡± I asked my group. There were none. ¡°Good. Finally, some sour news for those of you in our fleet¡¯s capital ships. You cannot allow our vessels to fall into enemy hands, lest they turn their weapons against us.¡±


    ¡°Respectfully, Cal, I think that was assumed,¡± Silas grinned.


    An inch of me wanted to return the grin, but my point was buried in miles of dire implications. ¡°I think you misunderstand. If your vessels are boarded, they must not remain operable in enemy hands. If it looks like your invaders will assume control of the propulsion systems or weapons systems, you must scuttle your ship. Varnus is affixing the apparatus required in that regard to your engine blocks. I¡­,¡± I began, but had to pause at the thought. ¡°Engaging such equipment will be decisively lethal to any aboard your vessel, even Astartes. It won¡¯t be a pleasant way to go, either, but it will be quick. I do wish I had alternatives on hand, but I do not. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    A somber silence took hold of the room then as the possible fates of our allies settled in. It was broken by Luther insisting, with confidence, ¡°They won¡¯t take our ships, our world, or our Sector. No matter the cost. If this is where we draw the line in the sand, so be it. Let these fallen Angels come and die upon our walls, as the Emperor wills it.¡±


    There was a murmur of ¡®Hear, hear¡¯s and general assent among my retinue, which proved inspiring even to me. Luther, as ever, impressed. ¡°Blessed are the Holy Ordos, then, to have soldiers as fine as you amidst their ranks,¡± I replied. ¡°Ever have each of you served the Master of Mankind to the fullest, and I know I need not waste prayers in the hope of you continuing to do so. Instead I need only pray my own service is sufficient, that my own planning may outwit and out-maneuver our profane foe. Thank you, all of you, for being who you are. It has mattered and will continue to matter. The Emperor protects.¡±


    ¡°The Emperor protects,¡± they all repeated, some giving me the Sign of the Aquila.


    ¡°Last chance for any questions, then,¡± I noted.


    There was a pause, and some shaking of heads, but Mirena did choose to pipe up. ¡°Do you want to review some of my flight instructions in advance?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Sure. Ms. Trantos, you should weigh in here as my plan reveals itself to you. Everyone else, if you have nothing to ask me, you are dismissed. These hours may be our last together. Use them wisely,¡± I explained to the group. Some departed right away, others gave me a hug before doing so, but Mirena and Zha remained in the end. From there, we spent two long hours formulating the right plans of attack and defense for Mirena¡¯s skillset in the context of our coming trial.

 Chapter 70 - Scout

    It was only recently in our marriage that my lovably gigantic wife would not force me into an exhausted slumber directly after sex. It had taken me some decades to adapt to Lucene¡¯s vigor¡ªand, notably, her size¡ªin that regard, but adapt I had. Some nights after giving my retinue their marching orders, I laid in bed beneath my love, my head barely poking out over her left shoulder while she gathered her breath, sprawled atop me. I found myself tracing a rough outline of the Sign of the Aquila on her lower backside, where I knew she had possessed such a tattoo. Despite how physically exhausting and emotionally enthralling our love had been, I was lost in thoughts of war and of our possibly dire futures.


    ¡°Thirteen decades now, and still I wonder what goes on in that head of yours,¡± Lucene murmured to my left, then shuffled a bit atop me to move her mouth to the side of my head and kiss my temple. ¡°Cal?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± I grunted, snapping out of my thoughts and glancing to her.


    ¡°You OK in there? What¡¯s weighing on you?¡± she asked, pressing herself more tightly against me at the mention of ¡®weighing.¡¯


    I grinned at the doubled meaning and, likewise, pulled her closer still to me. ¡°Why, the most amazing and larger-than-life Sister whom I¡¯ve come to treasure dearly, of course!¡± I answered, pecking her lips with my own. She returned the gesture with more apparent vigor remaining than I could yet muster at the time.


    When her lips did finally part mine, she noted, correctly, ¡°That sounds like you¡¯re covering for an arrogantly inaccurate thought again.¡±


    ¡°You know me so well,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Do tell,¡± she chuckled, kissing one of my cheeks.


    ¡°Why, so you can add another victory to your tally of arguments?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± she laughed, as did I.


    My Aquila-tracing hand settled down to hold her lower back while my augmetic hand cradled her head gently, letting her rest a cheek within my grasp. I took a moment to enjoy our embrace, then explained, ¡°Some years ago, after Absalom, in discussing our immortality you suggested you were comfortable with a soulless death so long as it occurred at my side. Do you still feel that way?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Is that all?¡± she smiled.


    ¡°I guess so,¡± I sighed, shrugging. ¡°I just¡­we¡¯re likely near to facing our deaths. And I would hate to have spent my life denying you your worthy, faithful eternity in the afterlife. I¡ª¡± I began to continue, but Lucene interrupted me, putting a finger to my lips.


    ¡°I, I, I, it¡¯s not all about you, Cal,¡± she told me, smiling. ¡°Gosh, you¡¯re so annoying sometimes. You don¡¯t have to perfect the lives of everyone around you. I do adore you because you try to, but holding yourself to that standard is setting yourself up for failure. Cal, I am enjoying the best eternity I could ever ask for right here, right now, with you. I really do not need more than this, even for my faith,¡± she explained, and then kissed my cheek again.


    ¡°Even if it ends?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Even if it ends,¡± she nodded to me, and then pulled herself over me, looking down upon me instead of toward me from aside. ¡°What I think needs to end is your incessant worrying about the future. And you know, I think I know just the salve for that.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked, not quite understanding then. But when she descended upon me for the second time that night, I understood, and she proved correct once more: I indeed did not possess the stamina to last two rounds with her. My worrying stopped, if because my consciousness also stepped out for the evening.


    When I awoke in the morning, I found I had far greater mobility to my person than I had fallen asleep with. Lucene was no longer atop me. I took the opportunity to stretch out a bit and un-tighten my joints and neck. In the process, I found Lucene standing next to me, arms crossed, while wearing the skinsuit bodyglove she wore to interface with her power armor. ¡°What?¡± I asked her, as she herself seemed stuck in thought for a time. ¡°Good morning, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Good morning, Cal,¡± she nodded, but did not change her expression or posture.


    I yawned for a moment, stretching out further, then again asked, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been hiding something from me.¡±


    ¡°Have I?¡± I sighed. It was in the nature of my role as Inquisitor to hide things from virtually everyone, her included. She never questioned that. That she did so now made me a bit curious about what she could have been referring to.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Since Absalom.¡± Oh. Well, shit.


    ¡°I¡¯ve hidden a lot from you since Absalom,¡± I admitted, though I knew what she referred to, even if she did not. Ouranos. Her fate, or lack thereof, that the bastard had insisted on showing me.


    ¡°Yes. But this one is different. It¡¯s personal. It has affected your judgment and interactions with me over the decades. Tell me,¡± she insisted.


    ¡°It¡¯s not for you to know,¡± I tried.


    ¡°It¡¯s not an Inquisition secret,¡± she asserted. While word of Ouranos was, in fact, an Inquisition secret, it was not so classified that I could not explain it to my retinue if I had wanted to.


    I just hadn¡¯t wanted to.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°Yes I do,¡± she insisted. ¡°We¡¯ve been married for more than a century, you and I. I can tell the difference.¡±


    ¡°Let me have this one,¡± I grumbled, unamused.


    Lucene sighed, shook her head, then turned around and simply sat on my chest, pinning me to our bed beneath her while she nearly crushed all the air out of my lungs.


    ¡°Lucene,¡± I gasped, struggling beneath her.


    ¡°Cal.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t¡­breathe,¡± I told her, lying.


    ¡°Then how are you speaking?¡± she suggested, grinning. ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re hiding from me. I¡¯m not moving until you do,¡± she demanded, crossing her legs while keeping her arms folded over her chest. I continued trying to wrestle her off me, though I knew that was a largely futile endeavor, short of any way that would have hurt her, which I would not do.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know,¡± I said, indeed able to breathe beneath her, but only just.


    ¡°I do want to know, and not only because you so keenly want to keep it from me, though that does help the curiosity,¡± she laughed. ¡°The secret is eating at you. It¡¯s changing you. It¡¯s placing you under duress.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the only thing placing me under duress,¡± I growled, to which she laughed again. Her laughter was cut off by the blaring of red alert sirens throughout the Dawnshadow, our room included. We locked eyes for a moment, and it became clear to me that even then, she would not get off me and let me respond to whatever emergency had arisen. ¡°You¡¯d obstruct an Inquisitor over this?¡±


    ¡°For your sake, I¡¯d obstruct you over this, yes,¡± she replied, sirens still blaring.


    I sighed, rolled my eyes, and at last confessed, ¡°It concerns Ouranos.¡± She had been in a room with Absalom for a discussion of Ouranos already, so the name, even if non-descriptive, was already familiar to her. ¡°He is responsible for giving me visions, including that of the cabin that has plagued me over the years. I will tell you more of this when we are not under threat of siege, deal?¡±


    Lucene stared at me a moment more, then barely nodded before gently lifting herself off me. While I heaved in a breath of air, she departed from my side in silence and began suiting up in her power armor. I rose to my feet, tossed on some clothes, and did the same, albeit with the addition of muttering, ¡°Fanatical zealot.¡±


    ¡°Worry wart,¡± she returned in a partially-robotic voice, her tone augmented by her helmet. She then stepped up to me, already armored, and began assisting me with my own power armor. ¡°I love you, Cal.¡±


    ¡°I love you too, Lucene,¡± I grinned. ¡°If today is the day, good luck. You¡¯ll need it.¡±


    ¡°As will you,¡± she nodded to me. ¡°I intend to join you in the command center, along with two of my Sisters. I won¡¯t trust your personal defense to Bliss alone. The rest will serve just beyond the room, if that is satisfactory.¡±


    ¡°It is, thank you, Lucene,¡± I agreed, at last donning my helmet, the final piece of my power armor. ¡°We should get moving.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Nice of you to join us, Blackgar,¡± Lord Inquisitor Lycia noted as I entered the command center at last, flanked by Lucene and her Sisters. I glanced around to take in the sights, and saw that both Zha and Bliss were already in the room, as was Varnus. Zha was aiding Lord Caliman in pouring over a tactical sensorium display while Varnus was adjusting the bionics of some of his own Skitarii security forces. Bliss, meanwhile, was off to a darker side of the room, trying to keep a low profile, albeit joined by her sister, Emile. She nodded to me when I looked to her, assuring me she was keeping an eye on things.


    ¡°Alas, there was an obstruction along my path,¡± I answered Lycia. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡±


    ¡°Two Viper-class warships entered the system thirty-eight-point-six minutes ago, Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± Varnus reported to me from a short distance away. ¡°They stayed for six minutes before departing. We were unable to make positive identification within that time.¡±


    ¡°They were scouting,¡± I asserted.


    ¡°We believe so, yes,¡± Lord Inquisitor Kanin confirmed, also a short distance from me, albeit in the opposite direction from Varnus. The two were clearly keeping their distance from one another. ¡°Stands to reason you¡¯re correct about their intended activity, at least so far; they¡¯ll have seen the defenses we have in play and will match them appropriately.¡±


    ¡°Now we just have to pray we¡¯re better at holding our ground than they think we are,¡± I offered, stepping up to the sensorium display with Zha and Caliman. Lucene and her Sisters followed after me, but gave me a wide berth as opposed to looming over my shoulder in perpetuity. ¡°Ms. Trantos, Caliman. Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Good morning, Mr. Blackgar,¡± Zha replied without interrupting the work she was already doing.


    ¡°Morning,¡± Caliman said simply. He, likewise, did not interrupt his own plotting, and if not for returning my greeting, did nothing else to acknowledge my presence. As Bliss had once said, once Caliman put his mind to a task, he finished it before anything else. Could hardly fault him for that.


    I was not sure what Zha and Caliman were working on, but I took a quick assessment of the warships we presently had at our defense. There were not many, by design. The Dawnfang, a Gothic-class Cruiser that always accompanied the Dawnshadow (hence its name), as well as Shatterwrath, a Lunar-class Cruiser that belonged to Lord Inquisitor van der Skar and was his personal flagship. Much more modest than my own fleet of vessels, but deadly in its own right, and van der Skar only rarely left the Dawnshadow as it was. Both were stationed very near to the Dawnshadow.


    There were a few minutes of tense silence more before anything changed. But the only thing that could have possibly changed was for a war to begin. And indeed, nearly an hour after our sighting of the scout ships, a number of Warp rifts opened across the horizon of Quintus on the Dawnshadow¡¯s East Quadrant.

 Chapter 71 - Siege I

    ¡°Multiple contacts established on East Quad! Scramble all available fighters from East and South Wings!¡± Lord Kanin shouted for the room. Zha and Caliman turned to me, and I nodded in assent with Kanin for the time being. Little did my latest rival know, but it was not he that was calling the shots for this engagement. ¡°Should we hail them?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re hailing us,¡± Lord Lycia replied. ¡°The question is whether we answer.¡±


    ¡°We do. Do not give them visual, only an audio feed,¡± Lord van der Skar replied, catching much of the room¡ªmyself and even Bliss included¡ªoff guard. None had seen his entrance, but he was here now, strutting forth into the middle of the room as his cane clacked against the metal floor. ¡°Accept whatever feed they offer.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re providing both,¡± Lycia answered, then gestured for an admech¡ªnot Varnus¡ªto patch the enemy fleet in. After a few moments, a field of green lights appeared in the center of the room, forming the rough image of a humanoid with severe augmetic adjustments to his head. A casual glance would not have been too remiss in surmising his appearance as that of a servitor, though all in our command center knew this being to be vastly more dangerous than that.


    ¡°Inquisitors of Ixaniad, I address you now as Telgonus, Son of Iron,¡± the barely-human machine in the green display spoke. ¡°You are far from our intended targets, but we recognize your lethality all the same. Surrender your Starfort, and allow us to detain Lord Inquisitors van der Skar and Caliman, as well as Inquisitor Blackgar, and we need not break your fortress in half.¡±


    ¡°This is Lord Inquisitor van der Skar responding to Telgonus, Son of Iron,¡± van der Skar replied to the communication. ¡°You speak of intentions. I myself have little intent to surrender myself or others with no guarantee of others¡¯ safety, or that of the Ixaniad Sector. What guarantee can you make for me?¡±


    ¡°We will leave your Starfort intact. Captain Valeran Mortoc, Son of Iron, wants an audience with the three of you.¡±


    ¡°Intriguing. Well, I am not committing vessels for our transport in front of your batteries. If you want us, you will need to send for us,¡± van der Skar explained.


    ¡°Does that mean you are volunteering your surrender?¡± Telgonus asked.


    ¡°Mine, yes. Caliman, Blackgar?¡± van der Skar asked us.


    Caliman nodded. ¡°Good to go here.¡±


    ¡°Works for me,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Excellent. So how is this to happen, then?¡± van der Skar asked, turning back to the projection of Telgonus.


    ¡°You will lower your Starfort¡¯s shields on your Eastern Quadrant. We will send a boarding craft for you. Try anything clever, and we will cleave your Starfort twain.¡±


    ¡°I am not being fooled into lowering our shields in front of enemy warships. Your boarding craft will approach for our Southern Quadrant,¡± van der Skar returned.


    ¡°Nor will I throw my men to slaughter. Order your fighters to stand down, that I may hear it over this exchange. And should our communication cease I will assume you intend to hide counter-orders from me and open fire immediately. We will also send attack craft to accompany the boarding party. I am making no further alterations to this opportunity,¡± Telgonus offered.


    ¡°Agreeable,¡± van der Skar nodded before turning to me. ¡°Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°All units, this is Fleet Command. Stand down now, I repeat, stand down now. Do not engage unallied contacts unless fired upon,¡± I ordered of our fighters and accompanying cruisers.


    ¡°Satisfied?¡± van der Skar asked.


    ¡°For now. Our craft will launch when your Southern Quadrant¡¯s shields lower. Captain Mortoc, Son of Iron, looks forward to speaking with you. Stay on this line until then,¡± Telgonus demanded.


    ¡°Lycia,¡± van der Skar called to her.


    ¡°This is Lord Inquisitor Lycia to Dawnshadow Engineering. Please lower the Southern Quadrant¡¯s shields as soon as possible, thank you,¡± Lycia passed along the command.


    ¡°Very well. You should make way to your docking ports,¡± Telgonus explained. van der Skar then nodded to me.


    +Zha, scan the vessels they send for us. Tap my arm when you have results, then keep them in your mind. I will find them there,+ I told her. She nodded to me.


    Some time passed. Low range sensorium scans displayed the loading craft, accompanied by a small squadron of fighters, pass harmlessly through the lines of our own voidcraft. It was then that Zha tapped my shoulder, and I peered inside her head. I sent my findings to Caliman, who was reluctant to receiving psychic communication, and van der Skar, who was counting on it.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    +Piloted by servitors. Lined with explosives. If they don¡¯t detonate against the Dawnshadow, they will kill us after we¡¯ve boarded long before we reach their fleet.+


    Not unsurprising, van der Skar thought, and then gestured his free hand¡ªthe one not atop his cane¡ªacross his neck. Killing season.


    +Lycia, raise the shields back and cut our communication,+ I told her. Then, before waiting for her to do either, made the call to our fleet. ¡°All units, this is Fleet Command. Fire at will. Engage and destroy all targets.¡±


    ¡°Death for all, then,¡± Telgonus nodded. ¡°Prepare boarding torpedoes. Captain Mortoc will not be denied,¡± he ordered of his crew shortly before our communication with him ceased outright, the large green head in the air vanishing at last.


    ¡°Would you three have gone along with that if it was genuine?¡± Lycia asked us then.


    ¡°Not likely, though I admit I am intrigued this Mortoc wants us alive. No, the only audience he will receive is the one that comes to take his head; isn¡¯t that right, Blackgar?¡± van der Skar asked.


    ¡°Dead-on, sir, yes,¡± I answered. Our faux-surrender was never actually going to see us leaving the station. Instead, we would bait what hardware or¡ªbetter, albeit unrealized¡ªpersonnel out from the enemy to destroy it with ease. Downing the transport vessel itself likely will not matter in the long run, but executing its mock support craft would not hurt. Every little bit helps. ¡°What¡¯s their fleet composition look like?¡±


    ¡°They have¡ªadditional Warp tunnels opening on Northern Quadrant!¡± Kanin reported back. Before I received any answer to my initial question, the Dawnshadow began to shudder as the shield of its Eastern Quadrant was pummeled, and as the Starfort itself returned fire in kind. I admit, controlling the minutiae of a naval battle was not my forte. Now that it was underway, I had little to do, save for ordering the out-maneuvering of the enemy. I could not tell a captain when to fire any better than their own judgment would suffice, so just as I had given Lucene autonomy in controlling her Sisters, I chose to leave our defense to our defenders.


    Still, I wanted an idea of what was going on out there. ¡°Ms. Trantos?¡± I asked, moving my question initially asked of the room to her alone.


    ¡°New contacts still need to be identified, but initial vessels were made out as a Battle Barge¡ªthe Soulcrusher, likely where Telgonus hides¡ªas well as the Nicodor and Surecrest, both Murder-pattern Cruisers, as well as supporting craft,¡± Zha reported to me. In that regard, we had outgunned them quite significantly; two Cruisers on either side left the Soulcrusher to stand against the Dawnshadow on its own, and a Starfort well outweighed a single Battle Barge.


    ¡°Can you patch me in to Mirena?¡± I asked of Zha, then. She nodded and began working on such a connection. In the meantime, Lucene and her Sisters assumed defensive, fortifiable positions throughout the room, and Bliss began to pace to encircle me, making sure to get an eye on every angle of approach to me. I was in good hands, I knew that. The other Inquisitors in the room, those that did not answer to me, fell into their own trusted cliques as well, coordinating with their operatives in secrecy, as one might have expected¡ªI certainly had. Of course, that just compounded to make me feel further useless, as the scope of things I could or should directly address narrowed by the second.


    Let the generals do their jobs, Galen once told me, long ago on Pyrras-3. When they have, they¡¯ll let us do the shooting. We needn¡¯t envy them their cleanly hands. Sound advice for the time, but now I was playing the part of a general, and certainly did not enjoy it. I think it was in that command center, then, that I first truly realized that my hands¡ªand boots¡ªbelonged in the mud, so to speak. Alas, the board was already set of its pieces, and I was not among them.


    ¡°Mr. Blackgar, sir?¡± Zha asked, perhaps for the second time, pressing a handheld voxcaster my way. I thanked her with a nod, and took it into my grasp, stepping away from our mutual sensorium array.


    ¡°Still out there, Mirena?¡± I asked of the vox.


    Mirena¡¯s reply was heavily garbled, but discernible all the same. ¡°Can¡¯t do away with me that easily, sir,¡± she answered.


    ¡°We¡¯re still waiting on our scans to identify the new enemy craft, but what do you got?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°A lot of unwelcome guests. Hold on, sir, I¡¯ll try for a better view,¡± she told me. I made note of how, despite our closeness, when in times of combat or otherwise greater stress, I regressed from ¡®Cal¡¯ to ¡®sir¡¯ on her lips. This was not uncommon among those of my retinue. After a few moments doing Throne knows what, Mirena replied, ¡°Six capital ships, sir, four of which are Retaliator-class Grand Cruisers. The other two are Styx-class Heavy Cruisers. Each has already deployed their fighter squadrons. They¡¯re out of range as of yet, but that¡¯ll be changing soon.¡±


    I snapped my fingers toward Zha and Caliman, who silently nodded in confirmation that they received the information Mirena provided, with Caliman giving me a thumbs¡¯ up. Fleet tactics would begin adjusting accordingly, even if we had not made positive ID on our opposition. ¡°The head of this snake is the Battle Barge of first contact, the Soulcrusher. Confirm visual?¡±


    ¡°Confirm.¡±


    ¡°It must survive to flee the scene if at all possible. You can pick your targets, but if you¡¯re to attack the Soulcrusher, do not damage its engines. It must be allowed to escape if it chooses. Everything else can be terminated. Do you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Boarding torpedoes sighted, sir!¡± Mirena interrupted me. ¡°Are those worth prioritizing?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll be armed and escorted. If you can down them, do so. But don¡¯t jeopardize yourself for them,¡± I explained. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it. Kill as kill can. Over and out,¡± I bid her farewell, and then turned back to my allies at our sensorium. ¡°This isn¡¯t unwinnable,¡± I noted.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t, but they¡¯ll outnumber our fighters three-to-one,¡± Caliman calculated, earning an agreeing nod from Zha. ¡°Our own will be shredded out there. Are you prepared for that, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll live,¡± I assured him, knowing he was referring to Mirena. Or was I assuring myself? I did not know.


    ¡°When do we engage surfaceside defense batteries?¡± Zha asked us, but looked to me for a response. I had one, as I had been waiting on the question.


    ¡°When the Cruisers on our North front overcommit to battering us. When they think they have a chance of shooting us out of the sky. When they have hope,¡± I muttered. ¡°That¡¯s when we¡¯ll take it from them.¡±

 Chapter 72 - Siege II

    The first boarding torpedo struck the Dawnshadow about 47 minutes after the shooting started. We had shot a number down before then, but we were not waiting to tell whether all of them were occupied¡ªit was very possible some were sent as decoys on an automated flight path to draw our fire. The one that struck us, however, was very much filled with profane Iron Warriors. It breached our ENE octant, punching hundreds of meters into our hull before coming to a stop and unloading its cargo.


    We gave them immediate resistance, but only to buy time. 47 minutes had not been long enough to achieve optimal readiness in securing our outer hull from boarding; we had siloed our defenses to prioritize inner mechanisms and command rooms first, which saw more immediate security be achieved by our most robust tactical teams. Our initial defenders, then, bought time for a drive-by bombing of our own design, Mirena among the fighters and bombers in question, as we shelled the Iron Warriors into the depths of space before the Dawnshadow¡¯s anti-voidship guns, where they were promptly shredded. But that whole process had taken precious minutes to organize and execute. Loyal men and women had died staving off the threat of the traitor Astartes¡¯s presence, and more still had died as we explosively jettisoned the section of the Dawnshadow in question into the void.


    The second boarding torpedo struck us 1:33 into the battle, again in the Dawnshadow¡¯s ENE octant. I was not going to wait for the third to do the same and overrun us. ¡°Lycia!¡± I shouted to her. ¡°East is taking too much fire! Have Engineering engage axial rotation, clockwise, three-eighths thrust!¡±


    In evidence of everlasting Imperial bureaucracy, Lycia looked from my call of her name to Lord van der Skar, awaiting his approval. He gave it in a nod, and only then did Lycia make the call to the Engineering subsector. The plan was this: we were taking heavy sustained fire on our Eastern Quadrant¡ªand, eventually, our Northern Quadrant¡ªbut our Southern and Western Quadrants were essentially untouched. If we were to rotate the Dawnshadow on its axis against an enemy fleet that needed to maintain its current position relative to us so as to not break its organizational structure, we would ease the Southern and Western Quadrants into the line of fire to ease the pressure on the Northern and Eastern.


    This plan had risks, and did not come without drawbacks. The main risk was that our clockwise rotation would see to the weakened shields of the Northern Quadrant being faced against the Eastern, which was also under assault and being subjected to boarding torpedoes from the Soulcrusher. I thought this beat the alternative, however, of counterclockwise rotation, which would see weakened Eastern shields rotated into the line of fire of the heavier guns opposing our Northern Quadrant. The choice was risk greater boarding possibilities or risk being sliced to shreds by their Heavy Cruisers. The former was far from ideal, but it was also much better than the latter.


    In terms of drawbacks, any rotation at all meant that we would not be able to return fire with the same degree of sustained power as we had been levying toward the enemy, as over a great distance even a small rotation would offset stationary lance batteries enough to make their sustained laserfire miss, at least in part. However, and I said a prayer to the Emperor that I was right in this regard, the lessening possibility of sustained assault might bait our opposition in nearer to us. If they were closer, their weapons would hit harder. But if they grouped up around their foe¡ªus¡ªthat also meant they would serve as easier targets for the colossal surface-to-void weapons we had on Quintus.


    Axial rotation engaged 1:41 into the battle, and just in time too, as a primary lance battery spun into and clubbed aside a third boarding torpedo that would have struck us while we were still addressing the second. The lance battery itself was undamaged, but the boarding torpedo flew awry, and struck our decks all the same, blowing apart and instantly vaporizing its crew along with a chunk of our outer hull. More sustained damage among a great heap of sustained damage, but a lesser addition than what another squad of traitor Astartes could pile on against us.


    At 1:59, a boarding torpedo struck the Dawnfang, one of our allied Cruisers. It was not until 3:01 that the heretic Astartes aboard the Dawnfang were finally dispatched, and only just. Within that time, one more boarding torpedo struck the Dawnshadow and another two hit the Shatterwrath, van der Skar¡¯s personal Cruiser. It would be inaccurate to lay the blame of such success of the enemy, in this regard, upon our defensive fighters, like Mirena. It would be inaccurate because they were vastly outnumbered and outgunned, and all the same disabled or destroyed dozens more torpedoes that did not strike our craft. No, the situation was dire, but it could have been unthinkably worse if not for the heroic valor of all those who served in defense of Holy Terra and its Agents.


    3:22 was the time at which our rotation finally saw the battered Northern shields be replaced by the intact Western. Unfortunately, our North became our East, which was the front from which further boarding torpedoes threatened us. Fortunately, by such a time, our internal defenses were at last coming to grips with priming our outer shells for such a heavy assault. The Red Hunters were deployed throughout the Dawnshadow, joined by Tempestus Scions, some of which were headed by Silas. Harakoni strike teams prepared for flanking maneuvers and to overwhelm the insertion of non-Astartes intruders, e.g., heretics of the Lost and the Damned.


    It did not surprise me that the Lost and the Damned was here, and indeed I had anticipated it. But that fact was worrisome all the same, for it spoke to the fact that Valeran Mortoc, whoever he was, commanded an imposing presence in the galaxy indeed, that he was able to manifest an alliance with corrupted human traitors. It was these scum that likely piloted and owned, at least in part, the heretic vessels we now faced, save for the Battle Barge itself. We would need to better identify the companies and regiments from which these Lost came from, to better provide insight into the nature of an enemy we would undoubtedly face more of in the future.


    ¡°We must cut our losses,¡± Lord van der Skar declared at 3:33. He was faced with looks of confusion from many around him, myself included, not knowing what he was referring to. ¡°My vessel. The Shatterwrath. I have not heard from them in some time, and what with two squads of the heretics aboard, we cannot afford to assume anything but the worst. Turn our weapons upon my ship, with the intent to cripple or destroy it before control of it is lost outright.¡±


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    ¡°The enemy will observe the fact that our weapons train above our heads, rather than into our fronts,¡± Lord Kanin noted. Indeed, were we to shoot down the Shatterwrath, we would have fewer weapons to use against confirmed enemy targets. But even then¡­


    ¡°I recognize that, Kanin,¡± van der Skar replied. ¡°Do as I¡¯ve instructed. If the enemy sees this action as an opening upon which to strike, they will be sorely mistaken. Do you concur, Blackgar?¡±


    I was, frankly, surprised that van der Skar requested my opinion. But I should have been. Luring the foe in for a surface-to-void strike was my idea. And indeed, van der Skar¡¯s theories about the status of his own ship and about the fact that turning our weapons over our heads leading to the overextension of our enemies seemed quite sound to me. All the same, in the moment, I hesitated to reply, not expecting the question at all.


    My hesitation provided the room for another all-too-familiar declaration of enemy contact. ¡°Two invasive hulls have breached lower decks,¡± Techsorcist Varnus reported. He had been mostly quiet within the room thus far, keeping to himself away from the other Inquisitors, though we had exchanged compulsory greetings with one another in private. ¡°Trajectories suggest a targeting of Engineering subsectors. I will depart to assist in their defense.¡±


    ¡°Lucene, take your Sisters and aid him,¡± I ordered, and though I am sure she intended to protest, we did not have the time for such an argument. I turned back to van der Skar at once. ¡°I do concur, Lord van der Skar, yes. It is not an ideal call to make, but I see no better.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± van der Skar nodded. ¡°Kanin, we must treat my vessel as compromised. Time is of the essence. And tell the Dawnfang, too, of our decision; Shatterwrath will have pilots still in the void that will need somewhere to dock. We must be ready to provide for them.¡±


    ¡°Cal, I¡ª¡± Lucene hissed to me, attempting to keep her objection under her breath, but her power suit augmented her voice all the same.


    +Go, Lucene. There is no time for debate. Stay safe. The Emperor protects.+


    Her Sabbat-pattern helm stared at me in silence for a few moments, she likely having a million words of choice to use. But, after a time, she nodded and said only, ¡°The Emperor Protects.¡± Then she departed, with haste, to catch up to Varnus, taking her Sisters with her. I was in Bliss¡¯s hands alone, then, but was confident that would suffice for most threats I could realistically face; even so, the loss of three of the Adepta Sororitas was a notable decline in our defensive resources were the war room to come under direct assault. I also sent a command, via the monitron planted in my power armor¡¯s right arm, to Silas to reinforce Engineering as well. He confirmed the order and that he was on his way.


    It was 3:35 into our skirmish with the Iron Warriors and their Lost by then.


    We opened fire on the Shatterwrath at 3:38.


    For the first time in my life, I spied a moment of weakness for Lord van der Skar. A slight jitter in his legs, a tremble in interlocked, praying hands. I did not need to hear his silent prayer to know what was requested of the Throne as we consigned the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, of men and women he knew personally. And for what? The presence of less than thirty, perhaps less than twenty Iron Warriors? The numbers seemed not to justify our response, but the tactics and the context of the threat posed would need to suffice to quell his wary conscience.


    It would not be enough, not immediately. I knew. Caliman likely knew too. It was not a thing one reckoned with overnight. Had I the time to, I would have pitied Lord van der Skar. But there was no time for anything beyond apathetic warfare.


    A few minutes later, we saw our first glimmer of hope. The enemies on our Northern front coalesced into a pattern for an offensive approach, baited in by the opening created for them as we fired upon the Shatterwrath. I confirmed with Caliman that our surface weapons were ready. The ensuing seconds and minutes felt like hours or days, waiting, then, for the right opportunity to lash out at our foe. Waiting for the right moment to present itself while dozens of our allies died every minute. And then, at last¡­


    ¡°Do it. Give the order now, Caliman,¡± I told him four hours and four minutes into our battle with the enemy. ¡°They are as primed as they¡¯ll ever be,¡± I affirmed, and he agreed.


    ¡°This is Lord Inquisitor Caliman to active Agents on Quintus,¡± Caliman called to them. ¡°Open fire on any and all enemy vessels in the vicinity of the Dawnshadow, even if they are danger close to operations command. Gloria in Excelsis Terra! The Emperor Protects.¡± The order given, there was further waiting to be done for it to be received, confirmed, and the weapons systems engaged by their ground crews. At least, we had observed, the boarding torpedoes had stopped being launched around the time that the Northern front began to descend upon us.


    Finally, at 4:21, the might of Holy Terra revealed itself from the surface of Quintus in a dazzling display of overpowering crimson light, ramming into the undersides of our assailants and stressing their shields¡ªand bulkheads¡ªto their maximum. I knew we had survived at that point, though it had been close, even if our foes began to split their arsenal between us and the surface world. The only chance they had to conquer the Dawnshadow, then, would have been a suicide ramming, which Telgonus would not have allowed. Valeran Mortoc did not want that, he wanted three of us alive.


    But their current situation, resistant though they were to accept their newfound reality, was unsustainable. Their vessels could not withstand the combined assault of a Ramilies Starfort, surfaceside lance batteries, and the myriad flotilla of fighters we still possessed. This was a point accentuated when both of the Heavy Cruisers Mirena had identified erupted into balls of flame against the void as they were focused down by Quintus. We had also already destroyed one of the Grand Cruisers from the North as well. And as the shields that began at our South finally rotated to the North, and our West to the East, it became clear as day that our defenses would hold to the dwindling armaments of our assailants.


    Yet still they persisted, for a time, and by the time their fighters were recalled and their capital ships began to turn tail, we had suffered tremendous losses all the same. Shatterwrath succumbed to its near-proximity bombardment at 4:34, erupting into a fireball of its own, allowing us to train all of our weapons upon our fleeing foes by 4:40. And at last, nearly five hours into this engagement at 4:56, Warp tunnels opened to carry our cowardly assailants away. We had proven our defense could hold, once. The real test would be surviving the second battle still to come.


    But the day was not yet over, despite initial celebrations from some of my fellow Inquisitors. Lords van der Skar and Caliman knew better and joined me in somber silence, but they were alone in that regard. Even Bliss and Emile seemed to celebrate, at first, until Caliman spoke up. ¡°We¡¯re not done here, you idiots,¡± he growled to the room. ¡°A number of enemy fighters still remain before our guns and we cannot rest until every last boarding party is exterminated in full. Blackgar, I assume you wish to pursue our latest in Engineering.¡±


    ¡°All too keenly,¡± I confirmed, grim.


    ¡°Take it. Go,¡± Caliman nodded, clapping a hand on my shoulders in support but also shoving me toward the door. A fair assessment of our working relationship.


    ¡°Bliss, with me. Trantos, up to you,¡± I told them both as I left.


    ¡°I shall remain, Mr. Blackgar, to see things through.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of seeing things through, we must get our fleet before they get theirs,¡± van der Skar noted. ¡°Kanin, Lycia, take the Dawnfang to rendezvous in that regard. Be quick about it.¡±

 Chapter 73 - Shellshock

    Bliss¡¯s footfalls may not have been silent, but they were obscured behind the heavy punching of my power armor-driven stomping. I imagined she could have better hidden her presence, given her background, but in my shadow such efforts were not necessary. Instinctively, now and again I turned my head to check that she was indeed following me. She always was, and soon came to give me a knowing grin and wink whenever I reaffirmed her continued presence. Our journey did not take the form of a sprint, but it was hasty and hurried. Energy was conserved for dire possibilities, but our urgency was ever maintained. Approximately 55km in size, the Dawnshadow would take some time to navigate through its cathedrals and labyrinthine halls, even for those of us who knew where we were going.


    I wanted to talk to Bliss along the way, but had no idea what to say to her. Keeping the morale of my operatives up was one of many compulsive needs I had maintained from my commissarial days, but Bliss¡¯s morale seemed ever in good spirits. I would not have described her as being carefree, exactly, but the weight of war seemed less of a burden on her shoulders than it was for many others, my own included. That in mind, I eventually decided to probe for something that was not about war: ¡°How¡¯s Emile?¡± I asked her after a time as we emerged from one cathedral into a municipal crossing. The Starfort was as unto a city.


    ¡°That¡¯s the first thing you come up with for small talk?¡± Bliss laughed. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Never mind, then,¡± I snorted and rolled my eyes, Bliss evidently having known I was combing through my head for something to talk about.


    ¡°My sister is fine, thank you for asking,¡± Bliss replied, still grinning, as ever. ¡°Emile does not have a mind for tactics, as you and Caliman do, which is not to say she doesn¡¯t understand them, but rather that she does not get as invested in them as you. Much of the day¡¯s efforts disinterested her,¡± she explained.


    ¡°She¡¯s content to trust that others can defend the Starfort?¡±


    ¡°As am I,¡± Bliss confirmed with a wink, referencing her trust of me. ¡°In that regard, it seems more pertinent to us to defend those others in question.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Anytime.¡±


    ¡°Access hatch. It goes¡­yeah, it will go to Engineering, eventually. Should be quicker,¡± I explained, stopping in my stride and pulling Bliss aside to look at a utilities panel.


    ¡°It will also path through sewer pressure control,¡± she noted, studying the map before us.


    ¡°Afraid of a bit of stench?¡± I asked with a grin.


    Bliss turned to me with an unimpressed expression on her face, then punched the access hatch open. ¡°After you, Inquisitor,¡± she suggested with a grin, stepping aside to let me enter the narrow passageway first.


    ¡°You¡¯re an Inquisitor too, last I checked,¡± I reminded her, but stepped inside nevertheless. There was a lot less light in the access tunnels, which was not a problem for me, given the sensorium on my power armor¡¯s helmet. I imagined Bliss was used to a bit of shade, too, and indeed, she followed in my footsteps, closing the access hatch behind us. ¡°You good back there?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re downwind of me,¡± she chuckled in reply.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re fine,¡± I muttered before striding forth, my friendly Callidus Assassin-turned-Inquisitor in tow. Indeed, the access tunnels provided a quicker route for us than the winding corridors we had come from would have managed. That only meant that it was not long before the first whiffs of the Dawnshadow¡¯s sewage system began to hit us, which prompted the first sound of physical discomfort I had ever heard from Bliss. I myself lifted a breathing apparatus up from my power armor¡¯s collar shielding, then turned back to my compatriot. ¡°I¡¯d put the laspistol down, if I were you.¡±


    ¡°Probably wise,¡± she winced, sheathing her weapon and freeing her hands to pinch her nose. Then, speaking with a more nasal tone, added, ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you have another breather?¡±


    ¡°Just the one, sorry. I made this same mistake once on Hestia Majoris. I make it a habit not to repeat my mistakes,¡± I shrugged, then trudged onward. Bliss followed suit, making due.


    Eventually, as the innards of the Dawnshadow intensified, Bliss revolted, ¡°Eugh, this smells worse than I do after a round of Gleece!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t need to know that,¡± I shook my head. I then turned back to her again, thinking about her comment more. ¡°Really?¡± She nodded. ¡°Shame.¡±


    ¡°Shame?¡±


    ¡°Gleece is my favorite drink,¡± I told her.


    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to share a round with you, but I¡¯d have to force you to endure the aftermath with me,¡± she offered with a grin.


    ¡°That¡¯s almost tempting. You allergic or something?¡± I asked. Sour though the subject matter may have been, it was still something unrelated to the horrors of war, which meant it could be useful for grounding my fellow Agent and keeping her morale up. Again, those old habits of mine.


    ¡°Allergic is not the word I¡¯d use.¡±


    ¡°Then what word would you use?¡±


    ¡°Err, damaged by polymorphine? It¡¯s generally responsible for everything awkward or broken in me,¡± she answered.


    ¡°And just how much is broken in you?¡± I wondered aloud.


    ¡°Well gee, Callant, that is almost as impolite as this smell,¡± she laughed. ¡°If it¡¯s not a vital organ, chances are it¡¯s damaged. And even then, I do remember telling you I had collapsed a lung, though they did repair that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°For your candor or the state of my insides?¡± she asked.


    I turned to her once more and shrugged. ¡°Both?¡±


    ¡°Well, you can make your candor up to me by treating me to a round of your Gleece,¡± she suggested with a laugh.


    ¡°Should I invite Jack?¡± I offered, joining her laugh in response to what I assumed was a hypothetical proposition. Then again, with Bliss, I was not so certain.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you remember his name after so many years. That¡¯s cool of you,¡± she mused. ¡°You can invite him, but he¡¯s all too aware of how my body reacts after drinking¡ªand Gleece is the¡­err¡­dirtiest. Metaphorically. Don¡¯t imagine he¡¯d be too interested in going through that again. You¡¯ll learn,¡± she said with a wink.


    ¡°I really can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re being serious.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m being serious! First you flaunt your breather in front of me, then you insult me! I have to get even with you somehow!¡± Bliss insisted. ¡°Plus, I mean, a drink with the boss? There¡¯s literally a line for that.¡±


    ¡°Is there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it goes Lucene, Mirena, me, apparently,¡± she said, rolling her eyes.


    ¡°Castecael is probably ahead of you, too,¡± I noted.


    ¡°You have the hots for Castecael?¡±


    ¡°No, but she enjoys drinking with me,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Adding insult to internal injury,¡± Bliss sighed. ¡°You¡¯re incorrigible.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve heard,¡± I said, smiling to myself out of her view. I then glanced to her once more. ¡°I already promised Mirena I¡¯d take a vacation with her, should we live to see Mortoc dead. If you really want a round of drinks with me, I think I could fit that in before we depart.¡±


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    ¡°Well now I want two rounds, one for each insult,¡± she returned.


    ¡°I can keep insulting you, if you¡¯re into that,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Up to you, Callant. How much of me do you think you could take?¡± she warned, stepping closer to me and winking once again.


    ¡°Admittedly, I doubt I could handle you much at all.¡±


    ¡°How very insightful. We¡¯re getting close, by the way; I can hear the thumping of familiar engines,¡± she told me.


    ¡°Familiar? Come here often?¡± I wondered, to which she winced, hard. She had slipped up in her sentence, and it took me only a moment to discern why and how. ¡°You stash your Assassinorum equipment around this area, don¡¯t you?¡± I asked, laughing.


    In response, she stepped directly up to me and planted a knee against my crotch, armored in ceramite though it was. ¡°Tell a soul and I will have to disappoint Lucene,¡± she hissed, grabbing my collar with both hands, despite the stench she allowed to waft to her nose in the process.


    ¡°Well, we can¡¯t have that, can we?¡± I laughed, then gave her a wink of my own. ¡°Your secret is safe with me. But you¡¯re buying the drinks.¡±


    ***


    When we emptied into the open halls again, Bliss left my side for a moment to ¡®get her things.¡¯ I knew, then, what that meant, and she was obviously no longer hiding her equipment from me. She may need it were we to run into any traitor Astartes. I pressed on without her, taking my breather off to recharge its oxygen supply and conserve my armor¡¯s power reserves. One did not need to venture far into Engineering to begin to hear the sounds of broken men¡ªmoaning, crying, and general panic that echoed through halls filled with hissing steam. It was not entirely unlike my encounter with the Maletek Stalker some years back, albeit much more intense¡ªboth the sound and presence of the steam as well as the cries of anguish deep within.


    I pushed ahead.


    By pure coincidence, the first figure I saw was an ordinary human, clad in black carapace armor, with his helmet off¡ªand lost somewhere, I imagine¡ªrevealing his sandy hair. I suppose it would have been wrong to call Silas ordinary, in retrospect. He was covered in blood, and I did not know if it was his. A chainsword revved in his right hand, his back to me as I neared. It, too, was drenched in viscous crimson. My footfalls, heavy though they were, must have reminded him of our foe, and he turned in a hurry to face me when I got near to him. Panic was rampant on a bloodstained face, and though he rose the chainsword into the steam before getting a good picture of me, he did not attack. The weapon lowered as he understood who I was.


    ¡°Cal,¡± Silas said softly.


    ¡°Silas.¡±


    ¡°Whose is this?¡± he asked, holding the chainsword out.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recognize the weapon,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Are you OK?¡± I asked, stepping nearer to him.


    ¡°Not the weapon, the blood. Whose is this?¡± he repeated. ¡°There was so much of it, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve lost track of whose was whose.¡±


    ¡°Give me the weapon, Silas,¡± I urged him, now within range of being cut in half by it, but not near enough to take it from him.


    ¡°Am I dead?¡±


    ¡°No, Silas, you¡¯re not. Give me the weapon, please,¡± I insisted.


    ¡°There was so much¡­I¡¯ve never seen so much,¡± he murmured. By then I had closed the distance between us enough to shoot a hand forth and yank the chainsword out of his grip. He had no physical reaction to my hurried movement, and though his eyes followed the blade as I tossed it behind me and as it clattered on the ground, he remained otherwise stationary before me. ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Silas?¡±


    ¡°Is it over?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I nodded eagerly and insistently, trying to give him some small hope or glimmer of happiness, though in truth I did not then know if any Iron Warriors¡ªor their Lost and the Damned¡ªremained on the Dawnshadow.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    At that I lurched forward and embraced him in a hug, thinking about but not knowing what he had seen or had to do today. What I, and my enemies, had thrust upon him and so many others. He did not return the hug, his body still stoic and unresponsive. I wanted to reach inside his mind and take away the pain, but I worried I might only do more harm than good. I knew not what monsters brewed within his strained thoughts, and did not wish to prod at them.


    ¡°Silas, I think you should sit down and get some rest. Can you do that for me, please?¡± I asked, pulling myself off him.


    ¡°I think so, sir,¡± he nodded softly. ¡°I¡¯ve never fought¡­something like them. I¡¯m tired.¡±


    ¡°I know, Silas, I know. Here, take a seat here,¡± I said, helping him to the ground. He did not resist me; I do not think he had the strength to if he wanted.


    ¡°Do you remember Okustin?¡± he asked me when he was situated, which caught me out of the blue, making me back away slowly as I rose to my feet over him.


    ¡°I do, Silas, yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°He was¡­slower than them. And they had such¡­terrible armor,¡± Silas panted, then thrust his hands over his eyes suddenly. ¡°Oh, I mustn¡¯t look at their armor. Vile portents, debased symbols, the lot of it.¡±


    It was then that I reached into his head, knowing better what to look for. And indeed, I found the painful imagery of our foe, seductively memorable as it was. I took that from Silas, removing it from his memory entirely. He was too important to be haunted by such things. And when I had done so, when I had purged the enemy from my faithful Scion¡¯s mind, I also forced his mind to slumber, giving him some very much deserved rest.


    I then voxxed Silas¡¯s location to Castecael, but warned her the area may still have been hot. She had no hesitation about taking a security detail with her. I did not wish to leave Silas alone, but I did not sense much danger in his immediate vicinity, and I still had more allies to find. I was also confident that Silas himself would not pose a danger to anyone else, as he was unlikely to awaken from the rest I had helped him into. These slight affirmations in mind, I again set off into the mechanical depths of our Starfort.


    I passed a number of operatives and soldiers in the many steamy tunnels, then. The thought occurred to me that Silas had wandered quite a bit or, perhaps, the scene of battle had stretched far and wide. The latter seemed more likely. In any case, some of the operatives were mine, albeit not those that directly reported to me, but those that answered to Silas or Luther or even Varnus¡ªdamaged Skitarii appeared here and there, scrounging for scraps with which to repair themselves. I could not help them in that regard.


    I did, however, find a familiar glimmer of sanctity amidst the battle-scarred depths of the Dawnshadow. ¡°Penitent again, are we?¡± I asked Lucene as I neared. She was hunched up against a wall, sitting with her Eviscerator embedded in the ground between her legs. Her head, missing its helmet, was tilted forward against her chainsword¡¯s hilt.


    ¡°My Sisters are gone,¡± she muttered.


    I paused and blinked once, hard, then nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± she nodded, and then looked up to me with water in her eyes. I knelt down to hug her, but found that she did not return the gesture. My face must have evidenced my confusion as I pulled away from her, but she clarified the situation while wearing a weak grin. ¡°Power charge of my suit damaged. I¡¯m rather trapped in place. Took all my strength just to position myself like this, that I may pray.¡±


    I nodded in understanding. Her power armor, like mine, must have weighed hundreds of pounds. More than mine, likely, on account of her greater size. Without power for our suits¡¯ actuators, they may as well have been tombs.


    ¡°Remember Abseradon?¡± she asked me then.


    ¡°In more ways than one, today,¡± I sighed, referring to the scent of the Dawnshadow¡¯s bowels which Lucene got to dodge.


    ¡°Remember when you carried me home after my battle with that explosive bastard?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine I¡¯ll quite manage to do so with your current armoring, I¡¯m afraid,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Nor would I ask you to. But the thought is amusing nevertheless,¡± Lucene said, managing a laugh that could have been mistaken for a cough.


    I opened my mouth to tell her that we would find some equipment to get her out of there, but a third person entered our conversation. ¡°I¡¯ll carry her out,¡± Bliss suggested, appearing out of the steam and mist behind me. Lucene¡¯s eyes went wide, having not seen a Callidus Assassin in proper clothing before. I assume my eyes widened too, for I had also never witnessed such attire in action. I recalled that Jack Harr, in his memories of Canicus, once remarked that Bliss was at her most profoundly beautiful when in her intimidating bodyglove, at the time that her betrayal of his unit was first revealed. I had seen her in that bodyglove, and indeed, she was both intimidating and beautiful as Jack had described. But in the synskin of the Callidus Temple, Bliss¡¯s beauty peaked anew. ¡°Try not to ogle too much, you two,¡± she added with a laugh, stepping nearer to us both.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­,¡± I started, but needed to take a moment to focus.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not strong enough to carry her out of here,¡± I managed.


    ¡°Am I not?¡± Bliss asked, planting her hands on her hips. I imagine she must have frowned, but her face was obscured behind a mask. That was, perhaps, the one betrayal of her beauty in this attire; her face was far more gorgeous than that of the Callidus Temple. ¡°Unless you think you need me elsewhere, Callant,¡± she offered, suggesting I may want her assistance in tackling any stray traitor Astartes that may have remained aboard the Dawnshadow.


    ¡°There are no more of those¡­things,¡± Lucene clarified. ¡°But Varnus was further in. I believe he was trying to¡­tinker with their corpses. They had such profane cybernetics. You should pursue him, Cal.¡±


    ¡°I intend to,¡± I assured her, then turned to Bliss, who was now to my side. ¡°Are you serious about her?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± Bliss chuckled, then reached down and tossed her arms underneath Lucene before hoisting a power armor-clad woman half a meter her taller into the air, Eviscerator and all. Lucene was as shocked as I was, and voiced as much with an audible gasp. Bliss, meanwhile, seemed to hold Lucene without much effort. ¡°The synskin augments the strength a bit,¡± she offered.


    ¡°A bit?¡± Lucene and I quoted.


    ¡°So you¡¯re aware, I just rolled my eyes. We can speak more of how awesome I am later. For now, am I taking her to Castecael?¡± Bliss asked.


    ¡°Well Castecael is coming here,¡± I began.


    ¡°And I am in no great need of medicae attention,¡± Lucene suggested.


    ¡°That¡¯s Sister-speak for saying that yes, she does need medicae aid,¡± I clarified. ¡°Take her to the infirmary, yes. They¡¯ll get her armor open and check her out. Thank you, both of you, for your service today,¡± I told them.


    ¡°Thank you, Cal,¡± Lucene replied, while Bliss answered that she had enjoyed our stroll. The latter then carried the former off out of the scene of the battle, while I pressed on ahead into the misty unknown. I had an admech to find, and, possibly, save from his own curiosities.

 Chapter 74 - Omnissiah

    I knew I was headed in the right direction when the destruction apparent on the walls of the Dawnshadow intensified and when the number of corpses or blood-pulped remains increased. And yet, for what should have been two squads of foul Chaos Marines, I had not seen a single one anywhere. Still, I also did not hear much shooting or screaming of heretical profanities, so I assumed they had indeed fallen. I wondered, then, where their bodies had wound up.


    When I saw a large stain of externally-coagulated blood upon the ground, flattened against our steel floors, I understood, and followed after where the fallen Iron Warrior had been dragged. Something¡ªor someone, rather, and I was pretty confident in my guess as to who¡ªwas taking their corpses elsewhere. And as I neared to what I believed to be the impact site of one of the boarding torpedoes, I heard the sound of metal punching against metal, clanging and echoing through hissing halls. I readied my Condemnor Bolter, and pressed on, entering the then-dilapidated engineering room with a great torpedo sticking into it.


    At the base of the torpedo was a pile of dead Astartes, some mauled or burned, others with no apparent wounds, but all dead all the same. At the base of the pile was a man of battered bionics and clipped mechadendrites, his body beaten and torn at. One of his legs was missing, as were some of his fingers, making him stumble and claw at the pile of mechanized Astartes as he endlessly rammed a fist into one of their skulls. That was, until he sensed my approach. ¡°Blackgar,¡± Varnus muttered, voice monotone and electronic.


    ¡°Varnus,¡± I nodded to him, stepping closer, my weapon at the ready.


    ¡°You suppose I¡¯ve gone mad, don¡¯t you?¡± Varnus suggested, and for the first time since I had known him, he released a sigh.


    ¡°I fear it, my friend, I do not assume it,¡± I corrected.


    He nodded, then leaned against the pile of dead Chaos Warriors before laying his backside down upon them, facing me. His front had indeed been woefully shredded and shot up. I knew not of the workings of his bionics, but to me it was a wonder that he was still alive. He was very much so out of breath, but his cracked green eyes still burned with a silent, electronic fury all the same. ¡°They do not deserve to wield the gifts they do,¡± Varnus explained. ¡°They are an affront to the Omnissiah in both flesh and steel. They don¡¯t deserve any of this!¡± he shouted, scraping a hand through the head of one of the Iron Warriors near to him and ripping its own augmetics out of its skull, tossing the bloodied bionics to the floor.


    ¡°No, they don¡¯t,¡± I agreed. ¡°Are you OK?¡±


    ¡°Do I look OK?¡± he grunted.


    It struck me, then, that his replies lacked the usual admech wordiness and exactness he so often possessed. ¡°Not particularly. But I have not seen you¡­¡±


    ¡°In the nude?¡± he suggested, then managed a robotic laugh. ¡°The cloak¡­damn, I know not where I have left it. But it was unsuitable for combat and infiltration. Stood out too much. Better to lurk among the clouds of steam as a silent, unassuming menace. And menace these heretical wretches, I did,¡± he asserted with a proud nod. ¡°You no doubt notice the change in my speech patterns, Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s dawned on me, yes,¡± I admitted, my Bolter still at the ready. I was still uncertain if the Varnus before me was the one I had been friends with for so long.


    ¡°Cold logic has its strengths, but they end in times of real battle. A lesson I learned in hunting Espirov, many years ago. I have suppressed logic implicators and engaged adrenal inputs, allowing for heightened emotion. Heightened rage and fury. It will¡­take time for the adrenaline to disperse,¡± he explained. He then gestured over himself with one of his frayed hands. ¡°I have made of myself a weapon to hunt and kill those who defy or defile the blessings of the Omnissiah. In this vein, I have tried to arm you likewise. Had I a wealth of time and resources, I would make us both into killing machines the likes of which our enemies have never seen before. I believe that is what you want, is it not?¡±


    ¡°To some extent,¡± I shrugged. ¡°How many did you kill?¡±


    ¡°Most. Those that I could get my hands on. I have been called many things in my lifetime, Blackgar. Nightmare is one. These pitiful vestiges of filth at my backside are not supposed to know fear, per their design specifications. And yet I saw of it in the blacks of their eyes today. The flesh is weak. I am not. Valeran Mortoc will learn this when I servitorize him. Do not fear me, Callant Blackgar. I know who my enemies are, and I know well that you are and always have been a close ally,¡± he explained.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m growing to like this version of you,¡± I said with a smirk, disarming my Condemnor and sliding it into the holster on my back. I then began to step nearer to him and his pile of victims.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t. This is only temporary,¡± he reminded me.


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    ¡°Yes, but you¡¯re much more conversable now, and more interesting at that,¡± I laughed, then offered him a hand with my augmetic. He took it, and I pulled him up to his one foot, throwing myself under his shoulders to help support him. ¡°Where am I bringing you?¡±


    ¡°My quarters. I will repair myself. I¡¯ll have some of my men come down here to disassemble these Iron Traitors. I assume the battle is won, which is why you¡¯ve come here?¡± he asked. I nodded in confirmation, helping him limp out. ¡°Good. You don¡¯t disappoint, Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°Likewise,¡± I replied. ¡°We make quite the team, you and I.¡±


    ¡°We do. I have often stated my displeasure for many of your peers, but you are a welcome reminder that there are capable men in the Holy Ordos worth working with yet,¡± he said. ¡°Are we prepared for phase two?¡±


    ¡°There is some work to be done yet. And a task for you and your remaining adepts, if you¡¯re up to it,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Callant Blackgar,¡± he said, as though chiding me. His face then turned my way as he paused in his limping, gripping my shoulders a bit more tightly. ¡°Will it result in the destruction of the enemy?¡±


    ¡°Most thoroughly, yes.¡±


    ¡°Then I am up to it,¡± he said, as a statement of fact, and then went along with being carried out of the Engineering subsector¡ªwe still had a great distance to cover to that effect. ¡°What is this task of mine?¡±


    ¡°There is an asteroid field near Quintus, on the opposite side of the Dawnshadow,¡± I began. ¡°I want you to move it to the approximate location that our assailants revealed themselves, and then I want you to mine it, high-yield. I wager you have two-to-three weeks before our enemies recollect themselves and launch their next attack. Doable, do you think?¡±


    ¡°A tight timeframe, especially with unknown resources,¡± he noted.


    ¡°You will have whatever you require, my friend,¡± I assured him.


    ¡°That has never proven untrue thus far. Doable, then, yes,¡± he nodded. We walked/hobbled in relative silence for several minutes, then. Past the point where I had found Lucene. Past scattered Skitarii, to whom Varnus revealed no outward acknowledgement of¡ªthough perhaps he communicated with them over their Noosphere. Further still, then, past where I had left Silas¡ªhe must have been taken by Castecael, as I was confident the sleep I had induced in him would have persisted even still. We were just nearing the point at which Bliss and I had emerged from the access tunnels¡ªnot that I intended to bring Varnus through that way¡ªwhen Varnus spoke up suddenly. ¡°Ask your question.¡±


    ¡°I have a question?¡± I asked, caught offguard.


    ¡°You do. About our future.¡±


    ¡°Are you a prophet, then?¡± I scoffed.


    Varnus cleared his throat in what was likely either a grunt or a snort, but it was mechanized and sounded to me like a low growl. ¡°You¡¯re no fool, Blackgar. You wish to know what comes of our relationship, when this is done.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Yes,¡± I nodded. ¡°The Phaenonites are dead. The Iron Warriors are next on the chopping block¡ªthis Warband, at least. Holicar Espirov¡¯s allies are diminishing quite rapidly, thanks to us. Removing every trace of his tainted existence has ever been your goal. So, when your goal is achieved, what then?¡±


    ¡°I suppose I will need another,¡± he acknowledged.


    ¡°Any ideas come to mind?¡±


    ¡°Well, I have devoted my life to the eradication of one and their allies. In the process, I¡¯ve made a few allies in turn. Some Inquisitors among them. And Inquisitors tend to have enemies. Who are yours, Blackgar?¡± he asked, stopping in his tracks to again turn toward me.


    ¡°There are many, I suppose, but one comes most to mind. They go by Ouranos,¡± I began, and meant to give him a bit more to go on, but he waved a frail hand aside and shook his head.


    ¡°Then they are next. The eradication of this Ouranos will be deployed,¡± he agreed.


    ¡°Will that suffice to please the Omnissiah?¡±


    For the first time in our relationship, the lower half of his face contorted, a mechanized jawline managing a grin. ¡°It may. But it will please me, Blackgar, to assist you in such a matter. In the immediate, let us finish here, and see Valeran Mortoc to extermination. That will be cause to celebrate indeed. He has no doubt plagued our great Imperium for centuries more than even I have hunted Espirov.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. Varnus,¡± I started, but found myself in uncertainty. I, therefore, relied on simplicity: ¡°Thank you. Allies are ever in short supply and high demand. I value those I can count on greatly, and you have ever met my every need, regardless of the difficulty.¡±


    ¡°No task that is easy is ever worthwhile,¡± he recited to me, nodding.


    ¡°Amarinthine Verses, 78.12,¡± I nodded with a small smile.


    ¡°You¡¯ve read our texts?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve perused what I¡¯ve found time for,¡± I nodded again.


    ¡°Perhaps you know this, then: ¡®Let the weaker in mind follow the words of the strong.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Canticles of Gethsemenoth, 87,¡± I confirmed, and then quoted one for him in turn. ¡°¡®Endeavor is its own reward.¡¯¡±


    ¡°The Omnissiah is rewarding indeed, that all those years ago I may have found the one cursed Inquisitor capable enough to slay His enemies yet wise enough to know of and heed His words,¡± Varnus mused. ¡°You are a unique and valuable find indeed, Blackgar. Should there ever be a time in which you wish to evolve past your flesh, you would honor us to join our ranks as an adept,¡± he offered.


    ¡°You are far from the first to make such a polite and flattering offer, my friend,¡± I admitted, remembering when I had first met Varnus. There was a Grey Knight present as well that had extended a similar courteous offer, albeit one slightly less than possible. I had knowingly declined it for its impossibility. ¡°Perhaps, should this body one day fail to fell the profane. Until then, I quite value my flesh, even if it is weak, as it is a reminder of my insignificance. Lucene may also be¡­displeased were I to take you up on such an offer, romantically speaking.¡±


    ¡°Weak and insignificant are not words I would use in your context,¡± Varnus suggested. ¡°As for your beloved Sister, I see no reason the same offer could not extend to her. Regardless, I would hardly force such a change of shape upon you. Your flesh has sufficed thus far for the destruction of the Omnissiah¡¯s enemies. I am certain it shall continue to do so. We near my quarters,¡± he declared abruptly. ¡°Upon arrival, leave me to tend to myself; you will undoubtedly have tasks of your own still to complete today. I will let you know when the asteroid field is prepared.¡±


    ¡°The Emperor protects, my friend.¡±


    ¡°The Emperor protects.¡±

 Chapter 75 - Coldbreed

    Lucene was, miraculously, fine. A bit bruised from having taken a few autogun rounds against her armor from the Lost and the Damned, but she had sustained no great injury. Silas, too, had not suffered any significant bodily damage, though what psychological wounds he may have incurred would need to be diagnosed when he was conscious, which he was not by the time I checked in on him. I left, then, on my own, heading to my quarters. Along the way, I voxxed to Zha to summon Galen and Mirena to my quarters as well. She obliged, and indeed, upon my own arrival to my room I found Galen standing outside, attentive and ready for duty. ¡°Long day, sir?¡± he asked upon seeing me. I must have looked as drained as I felt.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had and will have longer,¡± I shrugged, opening the door to my abode. ¡°Come in.¡± I lead him inside and began taking off my equipment, hanging my power armor up on a wall mount but simply dropping lesser weapons and tools onto a table. Galen, however, was looking around my room. ¡°What? Bigger than you expected?¡±


    ¡°Smaller, sir,¡± he admitted. ¡°Remember General Bragg?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°You ever been to his quarters, on Pyrran?¡±


    ¡°Thrice.¡±


    ¡°Then you know the man lived lavishly,¡± Galen suggested with a grin. I nodded. ¡°Throne, I could¡¯ve parked the Convictor in his living room and barely obscured the holomonitors.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a fun prank,¡± I offered, accompanying his grin with my own, and earning a laugh from him. ¡°I have never found extravagance a necessity for any agent of the Throne. I have here what I need to perform my duties; Lucene likewise. And with her, I have little need for much more indeed. At ease, please, Galen; take a seat,¡± I suggested, gesturing to a chair at a desk near to my bed, the latter of which I sat upon. He obliged. ¡°Have you fought Astartes before?¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± he shook his head. As with many of my retinue, he, too, continued to call me sir. I did not even try to sway him to the ¡®Cal¡¯ vernacular; to me, he was one of the few surviving soldiers I knew from my past. To him, I was one of the few commanding officers likewise. Sir I expected to remain. ¡°But I have seen them fight.¡±


    ¡°They are faster than men. Stronger. Smarter,¡± I warned.


    ¡°And more full of themselves for it,¡± Galen suggested.


    I nodded in agreement. ¡°Especially so for these that you will face soon. I do not need to reiterate to you that your survival is paramount, do I?¡±


    ¡°I believe you just did, sir,¡± Galen smirked. ¡°I will not be felled by such fools, of that you have my word.¡±


    ¡°You better keep it. There will be a great need of you in battles still to come. I have¡­what may seem to be an odd question for you, Galen,¡± I started. He nodded, welcoming whatever I had for him. ¡°What do you think of Inquisitor Zha Trantos?¡±


    ¡°She is very capable. And she has seen her share of darkness, not unlike yourself, and yet remains in the Divine Emperor¡¯s Light. This to say nothing of her intelligence, of which I believe I do not possess the wit to fully grasp,¡± he answered.


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I agreed, chuckling to myself.


    ¡°Why do you ask, sir?¡±


    I paused for a moment in my reply. ¡°You and she¡­you understand that only in battle will either of you fall, yes?¡± I asked. He nodded. ¡°She does not often see battle¡ªnot that she doesn¡¯t know how to fight; Throne, she could probably take me out by this point. But¡­long term¡­I do not expect she will be likely to meet an end. Mine¡­I think is near.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°An arm. An eye. What am I next to lose, a leg? No, I may yet look a bit young, but the wounds are taking their toll on me. I¡¯m getting old, Galen. And now a fallen demigod wants me by name. Maybe it isn¡¯t this war that takes me, Throne willing. But my end is coming. I have not eradicated heresy in Ixaniad let alone throughout the galaxy itself; every dead Inquisitor must once have had to come to grips with this failure of theirs, which I now share in. But you¡­you¡¯re too valuable an asset to the Inquisition to be ignored. Rare are those Freeblades willing to serve the Throne under our banner,¡± I explained, and meant to continue, but Galen interjected.


    ¡°I server under your banner, sir, not the Inquisition¡¯s. It just so happens you¡¯re an Inquisitor,¡± he declared. A tense silence followed, he knowing that a more zealous Inquisitor may have reprimanded him for such defiance. I knew the same, and questioned whether I should have. Eventually, Galen broke the peace by guessing at where I was going. ¡°You mean to ask whether I would serve under Zha¡¯s banner, were you to fall in battle.¡±


    ¡°And? Would you?¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t have the experience you do,¡± he shook his head, waving a hand aside dismissively.


    ¡°Hadn¡¯t you said she has seen the darkness, as I have?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡ª!¡±


    I paused, waiting for a continuation. There was none. ¡°Yes, but what?¡±


    ¡°I appreciate her, Blackgar, as an ally. But you are more than that to me. Perhaps you weren¡¯t ever my direct commanding officer, but you sure as shit made it feel like it. I don¡¯t have with her the relationship I have with you. And I¡¯m only here because you¡¯re you. If you die, I move on. Ideally I¡¯ll have met an end before you, as otherwise I will live on with a great degree of guilt for not having taken the bullet or shell that did you in. But no, Blackgar, I do not intend to take up another Inquisitor¡¯s banner, even if she believes she takes up yours,¡± Galen explained.


    ¡°It¡¯s rare that you disappoint me,¡± I noted.


    ¡°But not the first time,¡± he admitted. ¡°Perks of not really being one of yours, I suppose. I get to tell you ¡®no¡¯ as much as I like. I assume that¡¯s rather frustrating.¡±


    ¡°A good word for it,¡± I agreed. ¡°And if she better proves herself to you before I¡¯m gone?¡±


    ¡°Then that would be a discussion to have with her, in such a time,¡± he answered.


    It was then that a knock came to my door, and I did not need to reach out with my mind to ascertain who it was. ¡°Come in,¡± I told Mirena.


    As she entered, Galen rose to his feet. ¡°Are we done?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll continue another time,¡± I told him as Mirena stepped past him nearer to me. ¡°It¡¯s cold down on Quintus.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring a jacket,¡± Galen grinned. His grin widened as Mirena, uninvited, sat on my lap and tossed an arm over my shoulders. ¡°Sir,¡± he nearly laughed while I stared daggers at Mirena. Galen departed shortly thereafter, the door closing behind him.


    ¡°What?¡± Mirena chuckled, tapping her forehead to mine to match my stare.


    ¡°You really are without limits, socially, aren¡¯t you?¡± I asked in a sigh, Bliss coming to mind likewise. Each of the two cared little for social norms or constructs. Regardless, I tossed an arm around her waist and began to lean back. She shook her head, however, and rather than wanting to be pulled atop me in full, simply stayed sitting on the lower half of my body while I laid down. ¡°You¡¯re energetic.¡±


    ¡°Always am, Cal,¡± she replied, a smile beaming down on me.


    ¡°Enjoy your flight?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m the only one that did,¡± she giggled. ¡°I¡¯m happier than I probably should be. I recognize that. I¡­I know we lost a lot of people today. I know.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re giddy because you got to do something you love for the first time in over a century,¡± I said, to which she nodded eagerly. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Mirena. I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re in one piece. Well, as in one piece as I am,¡± I suggested, raising my augmetic. She bumped her own augmetic fist against my knuckles. ¡°So you¡¯re aware, Lucene and Silas are in the infirmary. Nothing severe, just bumps and bruises.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to see them when I check in on Castecael,¡± she affirmed. ¡°You¡¯re tired,¡± she observed then. ¡°Sorry. I can¡ª¡± she started, beginning to stand up off my lap and back away.


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    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯m just an old man nowadays is all,¡± I shrugged, waving a hand back toward me to invite her to return.


    She obliged, though this time did indeed lay next to me, on her side, an arm bent to rest her head in a hand. ¡°You¡¯re middle-aged. As am I. Even if neither of us look the part. We even still have hair on our heads!¡± she laughed. She then reached her free hand over to me, patted my chest for a moment, then put two fingers to my chin and tilted my head toward her, where previously I had been looking up at the ceiling. ¡°So, you wanted to see me?¡±


    ¡°Who doesn¡¯t?¡± I joked, earning another laugh from her. ¡°Yeah. I assume you¡¯ll want to fly again in the next battle we¡¯re faced with?¡±


    ¡°I will, yes,¡± she confirmed.


    ¡°Same as before. There will be zones and targets I do not wish you to address. Namely, for now, there will be a minefield. Varnus is working on putting it together now. Stay out of it.¡±


    ¡°Am I to assume this minefield will look like an asteroid field?¡± she asked. I squinted, wondering how she knew, but nodded. To my squint, she explained, ¡°Navy used the same tactic on occasion. Don¡¯t have to tell me twice not to mess with that.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I nodded again. ¡°How were they today?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll need you to define who ¡®they¡¯ are.¡±


    ¡°Your opponents.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Well, clearly not as awesome as I am,¡± she giggled, but then shrugged. ¡°They were capable enough. Decent pilots. I may not have flown against better, frankly.¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have sent the chaff today. They wanted to squeeze by with sending a small but elite force to take out the Inquisition. When they return, they¡¯ll have more numbers, but less experience¡ªor so I suspect¡ªsave for those that survived today¡¯s battle. Those will be more elite yet, familiar with our tactics and strategies, and will relay that info to their greener allies. You should be¡ªwhat are you doing?¡± I asked as Mirena grew closer to me, head raised over mine.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± she shrugged, then leaned down and kissed me, long, hard at first, then softly. Warmly. I reciprocated, allowing her to do her thing; who was going to complain about being kissed by Mirena Law? Eventually, she lifted her face off mine after several moments¡ªif not minutes¡ªof gluing our lips together, then rested herself on my upper torso and snuggled against me, looking away.


    ¡°That didn¡¯t feel like nothing,¡± I noted, gathering my breath.


    ¡°There are rumors,¡± she muttered, wrestling her head against me. ¡°About us both.¡±


    ¡°Romantic rumors?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ha! No, I guess this thing of ours is kept a secret from all except Caliman, it seems,¡± she chuckled. ¡°But no. Rumors about some crackshot pilot with an augmetic who loves to duel people in the ring and in the air. They say she has a great ass too.¡±


    ¡°Are you spreading these rumors?¡± I wondered, passing a hand through her buzzed hair, and earning another giggle from her in the process.


    ¡°Rumors about a one-armed one-eyed Inquisitor calling all the shots for these battles, despite believing we won¡¯t survive,¡± she furthered. Then she looked up to me. ¡°Are we dying here?¡±


    ¡°We could die in any battle we take,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me, Cal. Tell me what you think. Are we dying in the next one?¡± she insisted, eyes narrowing.


    I struggled to decide how to respond. I had just told Galen I did expect my end to be on the horizon. But did I think the next battle was it? No, no I did not. But maybe, I mean, it could have been, right? Not a day in an Inquisitor¡¯s life is guaranteed for them or their Agents. If I told Mirena that death seemed imminently likely, I had to expect that it would be far more than our lips which met each other next. But I also could not lie to her, not ever. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, Mirena. But I¡¯ve been wrong before, I¡¯ve misjudged my foes before. You should be ready for victory or death alike.¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯m hardly ready to leave this life with just that one kiss. Hope you¡¯re not planning to go anywhere for a bit,¡± Mirena warned me, which that it was a warning at all and not an immediate intimate reaction was more restrained than I had expected.


    ¡°Not until the Coldbreed returns, no,¡± I admitted, and parsed a hand through her hair again. Mirena tightened the grip of her hug, but otherwise continued laying upon my chest. That did not last for long, however.


    ***


    ¡°I¡¯m going to skin that pathetic excuse of an Inquisitor when next I see him,¡± I muttered to myself as I overlooked the empty vastness of space from the command bridge of the Coldbreed. It would have been fair to say that I was seething at the time. Perhaps that is why I did not sense the approach of the Coldbreed¡¯s captain.


    ¡°Is something not to your liking, Inquisitor?¡± Captain Caleb Vakian asked, perhaps thirty feet behind me. Caleb Vakian was not the first captain of the Coldbreed; the one I had recruited upon inheriting the vessel was his father, Janus Vakian. Janus saw me through the Phaenonite affair and a few years beyond, but retired and recommended his son to my charge. Caleb had more naval experience than his father, but had never commanded a vessel so large, nor one of such tactical importance within a fleet so large. Nevertheless, he had served me well so far, extracting me from New Cealis¡¯s downfall most recently. Perhaps most important to my trust of him was that I sensed he enjoyed his current position.


    ¡°A great many things, but none of them presently fixable,¡± I said, heaving out a heavy sigh afterward before turning to him. Himself a shorter man, he was dwarfed by my wife, whom he appeared to be escorting onto the bridge. ¡°This is an improvement, though,¡± I added, waving Lucene over. She was on her feet and in a repaired suit of power armor, her Sabbat helm squeezed to her side under her arm, revealing blonde hair that had grown quite a bit while in Castecael¡¯s care.


    ¡°You say that now,¡± Lucene warned me before wrapping her free arm around me in a hug, temporarily smothering me against the cold metal of her power armor. While keeping me within her grasp, she whispered, ¡°You owe me a conversation about Ouranos.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Drat, this conversation. ¡°Let go of me a moment,¡± I requested, and to my surprise, she did release me. I stepped a few feet away, though running from her was distinctly impossible, and she knew I knew it. With a sigh, I instead turned to my captain, who had taken to a nearby cogitator and was reading stasis field reports. ¡°Captain Vakian, I¡¯d like to request the bridge. Inquisitorial business. Please vacate all non-essential servitors too, if you would not mind,¡± I called to and asked of him.


    ¡°Right away, Inquisitor. But best I can do is thirty minutes; there are too many vessels about, each of them trying to situate around the Dawnshadow. This bridge will need a captain to communicate with them before long,¡± he warned me.


    ¡°I understand. That will suffice, thank you, Captain,¡± I nodded to him. He nodded in return before tapping a finger to his augmetic jawline, from which he passed along a silent command to the many servitors staffing the bridge. He and they began to disperse, leaving me relatively alone¡ªalbeit with a small handful of essential servitors remaining on deck¡ªwith Lucene. ¡°Forgive me, Lucene, for the delay; you do deserve to know what I am about to tell you, yes,¡± I admitted, walking over to the end of a cogitator row and half-sitting-half-leaning against its final terminal.


    ¡°I think I can find it within myself to forgive you,¡± she smiled. I loosed a single chuckle before nodding, returning her grin.


    ¡°To the point: Ouranos has, within the visions he has shown me, hinted at our deaths. Yours, most particularly, though he suggests that you¡ªor the consequence of your end¡ªwill be what does me in too. He has assured me on more than one occasion that he will be the end of you. Ouranos is a true heretic, a direct agent of our archenemy, or so I believe. He is everything we are not, our most natural foe. And he has set his sights upon us both. A savant, too, as Absalom believed, and I have little reason to think otherwise at this time,¡± I explained. I then paused to give her a chance to respond.


    ¡°Cal, I am the wife of an Inquisitor, and his most staunch defender. There are a great many that want me dead,¡± Lucene answered, all but laughing my warning off.


    ¡°This is different.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Because savant or not, Ouranos is highly intelligent, able to manipulate an entire Phaenonite cell and, possibly, the Astartes warband we now find ourselves at odds with. And we must assume that Ouranos possesses profane powers and resources the likes of which are incomprehensible to us and our faith. And of all the trillions upon trillions of men and women in the Imperium, Ouranos has chosen us to design ends for. He speaks as though he is an engineer of death, or perhaps its architect. He believes he pleases his dark patron in this manner, by constructing the deaths of others. And he has chosen us to be the medium through which he sculpts his next idolatrous ceremony. Tell me, honestly, is this not of greater concern to you, Lucene, than what we have thusly faced?¡±


    ¡°It is an evil, Cal. You describe to me a wicked creature the likes of which have always been the object of our expurgation. I do not ascribe significance to the machinations and designs of evil. It is only ever my desire to see it slain. And if this villainous fiend does us in, so be it. I want not for us to end, but if we must, let it be in the process of exacting His wrath upon the foe,¡± she explained, then stepped up closer to me and rested her helmet on the cogitator terminal before placing each of her hands upon my shoulders and looking down into my face. ¡°I love you, Callant Blackgar. With all my heart. You and I have seen darkness that would drown out a dozen stars, and we have brought light to it together. One day our ends will come. Be it by Ouranos or not, by such a time we will have lived long enough and fought soundly enough to have our names cursed by the archenemy for all of eternity ever after. That is enough for me. I pray it is enough for you.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it will need to be,¡± I acknowledged, sighing once more. ¡°I love you too, Lucene. Do remember that.¡±


    ¡°I shall. So, what pathetic excuse for an Inquisitor are you skinning, and why?¡± she asked then, referring to my earlier seething.


    I sighed yet again, and noted how often I had been doing so. There was far too much to worry about. ¡°Kanin, the fool.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. Skinning him would be most satisfying,¡± Lucene agreed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know the half of it. Lord van der Skar sent Kanin and Lycia to our reserve fleets, mine and the chunk of Battlefleet Ixaniad we requisitioned. Kanin, however, zealous in nature, saw fit to take some of the Battlefleet for himself and pursue the Iron Warriors, just as I had warned him not to. He¡¯ll probably be dead by the end of the week, or¡ªworse¡ªcaptured. But if, miraculously, he survives his pursuit, I¡¯ll have to put an end to his idiocy for the good of Ixaniad. Supposing, of course, we survive without the partial fleet he took likewise,¡± I explained. He had indeed only taken a few vessels, just enough to overwhelm the remnants of the first force we had seen, but too few to last long against what I believed was backing our foe up.


    I already knew what the cost of his foolish zealotry would be. I already knew that there would be deaths, likely of my closest allies. For that, for even jeopardizing them in the first place, I would not forgive Lord Inquisitor Kanin.

 Chapter 76 - Siege III

    There was no early warning for the return of the Shatter Corps or their Lost and the Damned warships. No scouts, no indication of imminent arrival. The one courtesy they afforded us was waiting¡ªlikely unintentionally¡ªuntil those that needed to be awake were so, such as myself and most of my nameable allies. When the Shatter Corps did return, I was on the bridge of the Coldbreed, assisting its captain with whatever administrivia I could.


    Experts would tell you that technically there was a warning of the Shatter Corps¡¯ arrival. Astropaths had felt the looming approach of such a monstrous¡ªin size and in purpose¡ªfleet and scream to the high heavens about it. Navigators may have seen it likewise. But where the infernal Warpspace carried warships at such heightened speeds, the air we breathed carried words far slower, and word of the entrance of our foe passed from mouth to ear at too inferior a pace to matter on the scale of the capital ships and Starfort upon which we dwelled.


    Suffice to say that when the Materium folded in upon itself to give birth to the gaping maws of the Immaterium, the arrival was anticipated, unexpected, and prepared for all at the same time. The enemy fleet wisely chose to land almost exactly upon the vertical axis of the Dawnshadow, no longer constrained to fighting against the starfort¡¯s rotating horizontal plane. I had anticipated this and so had taken a gambit in asking Varnus to focus on the northern and southern hemispheres for the deployment of our mined asteroid field. And indeed, the Shatter Corps arrived all but embedded into the northern field.


    For that reason it came as no surprise, then, that among the first things I heard on the Coldbreed¡¯s command bridge was Massino Varnus asking me if he should detonate the field. ¡°Wait for my command, Varnus,¡± I ordered him, and then struck out from the group I had been standing with at the time, which had consisted of Varnus, Lucene, a few of Lucene¡¯s Sisters, and Zha. Bliss was on the command bridge as well, but some distance away, as ever keeping a watchful eye on everything on my behalf. As I strode forth to the large, reinforced-glass windows of the bridge¡¯s primary viewport, I did so through a cacophony of other sounds¡ªautomated and servitorized warnings alike, declaring the presence of our vast enemy fleet. The scrambling of human response teams. The sudden panic; panic which, surprisingly, I did not feel.


    Instead I looked up to the enemy fleet with an unexplained and subtle fury, as though finally seeing the face of a foe I was destined to extinguish. And yet it was not so; I did not believe Valeran Mortoc himself was present in this fleet. However, this fleet was his first real communication with us, his showing of his hand. In war, we spoke with each other. He had seen the strategy of the axial rotation of the Dawnshadow. I had foreseen his response. Had he foreseen mine?


    ¡°Only war,¡± I muttered to myself, still looking on upon the Shatter Corps in my simmering rage.


    ¡°Cal?¡± Lucene asked, standing to my side, as ever. As ever, I had failed to track her movement in following me so.


    ¡°The heretics came knocking, and with what do we answer?¡± I asked, quoting Hans Okustin, my long-since-passed Interrogator. He had often used the phrase motivationally, with fire on his voice, but when I said it then I spoke in cool hatred.


    ¡°Only war, Cal,¡± Lucene understood, agreeing with me.


    ¡°Captain Vakian!¡± I called then, still keeping my eyes locked to the enemy fleet. ¡°Point us skyward toward the enemy! Keep them on our port side, but only just. When we begin to take fire, turn into it, exposing our nose and starboard bow to shield our aft sectors. Time until we¡¯re in firing range ourselves?¡±


    ¡°Approximately twelve minutes, Inquisitor. They are rather far out, but on approach,¡± Vakian replied.


    ¡°Gives us time to breathe, then,¡± I nodded before turning to him at last. ¡°The rest is your call. I trust your judgment.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Inquisitor. You should know, that minefield of ours is not playing nicely with our targeting servitors. They are being scrambled on the reflectivity of the rocks,¡± Vakian warned.


    ¡°Let me worry about that. Seems it won¡¯t matter for another twelve minutes anyways,¡± I told him. I then turned back to my original group. ¡°Varnus! Not yet, but on my mark. Stay ready.¡±


    ¡°Ever so, Inquisitor,¡± he answered.


    It was then that Captain Vakian notified the bridge that the Dawnshadow and our allies in Battlefleet Ixaniad were launching their fighters. ¡°Earlier than I would¡¯ve liked,¡± I grumbled. ¡°Let¡¯s hope Mortoc¡¯s vessels have as much an issue targeting our fighters through the asteroid field as we do. Tell the fleet to launch our fighters as well, Captain,¡± I ordered him. He nodded and saw it so. ¡°Good luck, and good hunting, Mirena,¡± I muttered, turning back to the viewport to overlook the warzone.


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    We had no business, in my opinion, launching fighters so soon. I assumed they would just be sitting ducks at this engagement range, well beyond the range of their own weapons but soon within that of capital ships¡¯. We could have waited, I thought, at least until our foe began to deploy their own fightercraft, or opened their launch bays even. I understood wanting to preempt the launch so as not to be waiting for our squadrons to form up, but even so, I worried about the vulnerability of doing so too soon. I hoped Valeran Mortoc, wherever he was, did not anticipate our error in that regard.


    For a time, there was nothing more to do on my part but wait and watch. I hated it. There was a powerlessness in staring down an enemy at such a distance and with such tremendous weapons between us. I myself, in the immediate, was of little consequence. I was eager not to fight this battle but the one that loomed beyond, for I did not expect to dirty my hands here as often I had. Mine were made to plunge a blade through the flesh of the foe, not stand behind monolithic metal hulks in the depths of space.


    But enough abstract prose.


    We took fire about as soon as we were able to reciprocate. I suppose it should not have come as a surprise, as our vessels were not dissimilar in original function¡ªthe heretics were once of our flesh, blood, and steel, after all. That is what makes them traitorous. In any event, reciprocate we did; when void shields and bulkheads were pounded by primary battery fire across the span of our fleet, our fleet answered in kind. Yet still, I waited and I watched, holding a hand up toward Varnus, requesting his patience. He provided without complaint, as ever. Then at last, I saw it: the opening of enemy bay doors. The first sign of their fighters, boarding torpedoes, and drop pods¡ªthe latter of which would be required for our yet-unused (in this battle) planetside defense grid. Our planetary batteries would have shields to protect them from enemy bombardment¡ªthe foe surely knew this¡ªso ground troops were required to disable such shielding.


    The fighters flew forth, some in attack squadrons and others in an escort formation about the boarding torpedoes. The drop pods slammed out like a bombardment unto themselves. Finally, my hand dropped in a silent slice, pointing to Varnus. I do not know if I commanded him audibly, but I do know I did so with my psykana: +NOW!+ And the heavens before us were set ablaze in an instant, untold volumes of fusion munitions detonated at once within the ranks of the enemy fleets. There was enough force across the span of the rocks we detonated not merely to break a continent, but to rip one off the face of a world itself and plunge it into the endless space beyond. I thought, then, to Absalom, and his derision for our methodology in destroying his accursed fortress. He made reference to the breaking of worlds then; I would have done so now, given such a terrestrial target.


    There was no atmosphere in space. Nothing with which to carry the blastwave, which would have otherwise been tremendous. No great boom! or crack! But there was energy¡ªand heat¡ªon a tremendous level, enough of it to temporarily strain even our cogitators and the servitors behind them. And, yet, it was barely enough to crack more than a handful of the capital ships belonging to the enemy. No, I had known their void shields would hold, as ours would have. So I had always intended to wipe out what smaller invasive forces I could, to ease up the defense on a level I could understand, in a way that I knew how to fight¡ªprotecting my fightercraft from theirs, my capital vessels from their torpedoes, and Quintus and Galen from their ground forces.


    They would have more, yes. And they launched more soon thereafter.


    But if they wanted to take this world and remove the Inquisition from Ixaniad, they would need to climb a mountain of their own corpses and cross an ocean of their own blood to do so. In that, I was certain. I could see to that, and I would.


    ¡°Varnus,¡± I called, satisfied with the immediate destruction I had ordered. I turned to him as well. ¡°They have arrived in only one front this time. Direct the remaining asteroids, mined or otherwise, to fly their way. At worst, it will provide a distraction for their guns to shoot at, rather than aiming at us.¡±


    ¡°Right away, Inquisitor. Your ingenuity and strategy pleases the Omnissiah today,¡± he nodded in confirmation.


    ¡°Let us hope the Omnissiah wishes to see more of it, then,¡± I suggested, and turned back to my viewport. ¡°Only war,¡± I muttered again, musing to myself. ¡°How do you intend to answer, Mortoc? Show me your hand. Show me that, if indeed you are too cowardly to show your face.¡± I paused for a moment, then asked in a normal, not-muttering voice, ¡°What would you do?¡±


    No response came in the immediate.


    ¡°Lucene?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°Cal?¡±


    ¡°What would you do?¡± I repeated.


    ¡°Apologies, I don¡¯t understand, Cal,¡± she shook her head.


    ¡°How would you destroy us, if you were them.¡±


    ¡°I think I would prefer to destroy myself if I were them,¡± she admitted. ¡°Being your enemy does not strike me as being very enjoyable.¡±


    ¡°I should hope it isn¡¯t,¡± I said with a grin. ¡°But if you had¡ª¡±


    ¡°If I had to? Cal, I am not a tactician. My mind belongs behind a blade or a gun, both levied to the necks of those that cross you. I do not strategize as you do,¡± she denied me. I sighed, and must have seemed quite deflated from her response, as she chose to weigh in regardless. ¡°But¡­from my perspective¡­their fleet about matches ours, sans the Dawnshadow. They will believe their troops will make up for the difference there. Their genetic makeup provides them power we cannot know, and they will believe that will make all the difference.¡±


    ¡°And it may,¡± I noted.


    ¡°It may. But it has ever been the courage and faith of men and women alike that have outlasted the darkness. The foes that believe otherwise simply have never faced it before. They will hit us. They will bleed us. And they will kill us. But our fight is one extinguished with greater difficulty than a life. There are only heroes in the Imperium because of battles such as this. If there are to be heroes here, it will be because the enemy forced them to be, and the Emperor protected them so. I believe we can rise to meet this threat and drive them back, that our valor can persist beyond their mere genetic advantages. Most importantly, we have two things they do not.¡±


    ¡°Which are?¡±


    ¡°You, Cal, and the Throne.¡±

 Chapter 77 - Siege IV

    Galen¡¯s taunting and boasting died after two hours of continuous combat, of arduous realignment of his Knight¡¯s shields and exhausting aiming of the Eximus Convictor¡¯s weaponry in every direction. How many had he felled? The troop count was too vast to number explicitly, even when considering those that Galen was able to see¡ªmany more were obscured behind the veil of ever-whipping winds and snowfall of surfaceside Quintus. The armor, though, he was surer of, though only on a matter of magnitude, not specificity; Galen believed he crushed or liquified dozens of armored vehicles and even a handful of Astartes drop pods before they landed upon the ground.


    He had defended three surface-to-orbit defense batteries, known as Firestations, across the two hours of his efforts, allowing the batteries to chip away at void shields or, once done with that, cleave warships twain. Having protected Firestation Ibos, he was hailed by Firestation Cariza, many miles away. Another request for aid. As Quintus spun, Galen would need to run across its continents, as few others could, and slay the invading forces that fell upon the world. This was his calling. It is what he was raised for, what he had bled for, what he had said he could do no matter the enemy.


    And still, when Cariza called for him, Galen paused in reticence. He looked to the snowy skies above, and beheld the gargantuan pillars of light, the Emperor¡¯s Wrath made manifest, that screamed into the heavens from the dozens of Firestations of the world. Far, far ahead, deep into the skies above, a fireball began to scream toward Quintus¡ªa dead voidship, now plummeting to the surface. Galen could not identify whether it was an allied or enemy vessel. For his purposes, it did not matter, save for needing to be beyond the initial blast radius when the vessel made its crash landing upon the world. The resultant radiological contamination of the reactor core¡¯s exposure would not be a threat to his Knight and, therefore, he himself.


    #I RECEIVE YOU CARIZA. THRONE-ONE EN ROUTE. HOLD OUT UNTIL I ARRIVE TO PURGE YOUR ASSAILANTS. THE EMPEROR PROTECTS,# Galen answered at last, and then shot forth into the wintery night once more, weapons at the ready.


    ***


    Visually, the scene in the void was utterly indecipherable. Firestorms, columns of lancefire, and wanton mechanical carnage filled the full scope of the theatre of battle. Mirena, then, relied on her Fury¡¯s sensorium apparatus to gauge her surroundings and help her fly. Much of this was relayed to her through her pressurized pilot¡¯s suit and her augmetic, nearly¡ªbut not totally¡ªinvalidating her need for ocular assessment of the situation in her cockpit. And what was that situation?


    ¡°We have lock-on. Enemy Swiftdeath expected to fire missiles in¡ªmissile launched,¡± reported a servitor in what was, to Mirena, unfitting nonchalance. War empowered emotion, and for servitors to be perpetually emotionless made Mirena question their acuity for warfare.


    ¡°All crew, brace for g-force,¡± Mirena warned her pair of living operatives¡ªtwo gunners¡ªbefore swerving her Fury around a wreck of metal in void. Finding that the missiles on their tail began to angle in kind to follow her, she then punched the Fury downward, plunging behind the wreck to use its corpse in intercepting the missiles¡¯ flight. The dead thing would not have minded, she thought.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t so bad,¡± Eli Jess, one of her gunners, replied over their local voxband. ¡°But there¡¯s still two Swift¡¯s on our six!¡±


    ¡°I know!¡± Mirena shot back. ¡°But I wasn¡¯t referring to that g-force, but this!¡± Mirena answered, and then yanked back on the axial shaft of their Fury with such intensity as to threaten to tear the craft apart at the seams as it spun, wildly, through the void. Had she pulled such a maneuver in an atmosphere, her Fury would have surely ruptured into a million pieces. But as it was, the centrifugal force of rotating her vessel through the void proved insufficient at shredding their ship.


    It was sufficient, however, at clouding the vision of all lifeforms aboard the Fury. That did not matter; for the moment, Mirena did not need to see in order to flick on the stabilizing air thrusters to finish inverting her craft. She simply prayed to the Throne that her gunners had maintained consciousness, even if without sight. The roar of lascannons suggested to her that yes, indeed, her gunners were still with her, opening fire upon their pursuers now that their craft had spun to face them. Mirena¡¯s maneuver had not sacrificed any momentum, being carried through the void at the same speed at which they had attained prior due to their frictionless environment. It would have looked as though they were flying in reverse at supersonic speeds, and probably quite comically at that.


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    One of the pair of Swiftdeath¡¯s succumbed to the unexpected maneuver from Mirena, while the other was able to break off and evade her gunners¡¯ return fire. A rookie, Mirena thought to herself, might chase after that one. But she knew better. It was one thing to change one¡¯s orientation in a vacuum; it was another to invert one¡¯s momentum. Mirena began to ease her Fury into facing the direction of its movement, but in the process prompted Catiel Salmutan, her other gunner, into evidencing strategic naivet¨¦. ¡°One of the swift¡¯s is getting away!¡± Catiel reported over vox.


    ¡°Yes, they are,¡± Mirena answered, voice calm. ¡°Let another squadron catch them out. We¡¯ll slow to sitting-grox speeds if we tried to pursue. And besides, our armaments are running low. One missile left, both lascannon batteries under fifteen percent. We could take that engagement and die to the following one, or head back to Command for resupply and recharge. I know what my call is,¡± she explained to her crew.


    ¡°Understood, ma¡¯am. Fly as you will,¡± Eli responded.


    Mirena flicked a few dials to tune her vox to the command broadcast frequency, then spoke, ¡°This is Gold-1 to Cold, Alpha Squadron, Command Wing, requesting authorization for landing and resupply, come in Cold, over.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Let her in,¡± I told to Captain Vakian, though I wagered he was already planning to grant her that authorization.


    ¡°Gold-1 you are clear for landing in Bay 3, come round quick as you can, over,¡± Vakian answered Mirena. He then turned his attention to the dozens of other similar requests and began sorting through them. I, meanwhile, remained stoic, ever peering out through the looking glass unto the metaphorical field of battle. I had stood here for ten hours now, despite insistence from Lucene to at least sit and rest. But I wanted¡ªno, needed¡ªto see everything happen. I needed to see how these Iron Warriors conducted themselves at a larger scale. I needed to discern how to react. I needed to feel the fury of this war.


    ¡°How is it looking?¡± Zha Trantos asked me, catching me off guard. I had been so absorbed in the battle beyond that I had not heard or otherwise sensed her approach, but she was standing next to me now, to my right.


    ¡°You tell me, Inquisitor Trantos,¡± I smiled.


    She paused in her reply, taking a moment to survey the scene in full. But it only took her a moment. She amazed in that regard, and in many others. ¡°It is a near-stalemate,¡± she asserted.


    ¡°Leaning where?¡±


    ¡°Against us. Barely. We are losing, aren¡¯t we?¡± she understood.


    ¡°Only just, but yes. Galen and Mirena, out in the field, are providing their great heroism on our behalf. Others whose names I do not know do the same. But we are losing, yes. In this battle of attrition, we have stalemated, but the bulk of the foe¡¯s elite has not been fielded yet, and stalemate favors an aggressor when defensive reinforcements are not coming. They bleed us, now, before they intend to break us later. But that clock is ticking,¡± I explained. Zha nodded in agreement before turning to me.


    ¡°So, what then? Do we die here?¡± she asked. Her question was asked without a hint of emotional investment, pursuing only the fact of the matter. But none of this was to say that she was not invested in living.


    ¡°That is one option,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°And the others?¡± she asked.


    I heaved a deep breath in and out, and then beheld something I was dreading seeing: the void shields around the Cyprus Aeterna, the vessel Caliman was on, succumbing to lance batteries. Two cruise missiles crashed into his vessel while they were down, rupturing swaths of his craft into great and terrible balls of fire, gasps of light quickly quieted by the oppressive depths of the void.


    ¡°Heroism,¡± I muttered before looking toward Zha at last. ¡°The foe descends upon us, but we still have our wits and our wills. We can drive a blade straight through this monster¡¯s maw, but we¡¯ll be bitten for it.¡±


    ¡°Better that than to sit and wait for the end to come, no?¡± Zha suggested. I saw in her eyes that she knew the answer. I saw in her eyes that she knew I knew the answer too.


    ¡°Captain!¡± I called while still looking into Zha¡¯s eyes. For so long now, I saw in her my equal, yet I believe she still looked up to me. Lost, in a moment, in looking at the mirror image of myself, I spied Captain Vakian making an impatient¡ªalbeit not impolite¡ªgesture in the corner of my vision, silently asking me what I had called him for. I glanced toward him, past Zha. ¡°Drive us ahead, Captain Vakian.¡±


    ¡°Inquisitor, I must remind you that your fleet is a long range patrol fleet, not a main battle fleet,¡± he warned me.


    ¡°I am aware. Alas, my command ends at this fleet; I cannot order Battlefleet Ixaniad around so directly. It will need to be us, then. Send us on ahead, Captain,¡± I repeated.


    ¡°How close?¡±


    I raised my augmetic into the air, hand at first open but tensed into a fist as I spoke. ¡°Close enough to crush their skulls. Send us on, and the rest of our fleet will follow.¡±


    ¡°Right away, Inquisitor,¡± he assented, and began to put such commands in with his staff before I again interrupted him.


    ¡°Caleb,¡± I called, making him raise a curious¡ªif still impatient¡ªglance my way. ¡°Thank you for your service.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Inquisitor. Throne willing, may our blade cleave these bastards¡¯ heads from their necks,¡± he answered, hinting at having overheard my conversation with Zha. ¡°The Emperor protects.¡±


    ¡°The Emperor protects,¡± I repeated. I then turned back to Zha. ¡°Now the likelihood of our deaths increases. But the likelihood of victory¡­¡±


    ¡°It raises as well. Odds¡­almost favorable,¡± she calculated. ¡°But not for us.¡±


    ¡°No. Not for us.¡±

 An Update

    Alright so it''s been a minute since a chapter has come out here. Feel I owe a bit of an explanation and status update to you all.


    First of all, I want to be clear that I''m not on hiatus. The next chapter is ~66% done. Just a final scene to write and some meat to put on its bones.


    As for why it''s taking so long, well...there''s three reasons:


    1) Baldur''s Gate 3 came out. I mean, disastrous. Who could have foreseen this? Truly just a catastrophic event for all involved.


    2) I work in academia, and for those paying attention to their calendar, you may note that the summer is ending. This leads to a fall semester/start of classes, which in turn requires a lot of prep work for my particular field. Which is to say, work has been busy.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    3) I broke a tooth. I legitimately could not tell you how (and, apparently, neither can my dentist), but it''s as painful as you might imagine, and that pain births distraction, which is not conducive to writing. I''m making due as best I can with it in wait of upcoming surgery to have it removed, but in the meantime, my mood and motivations for pursuing my hobbies have taken a bit of a hit, making my writing more infrequent still.


    Suffice to say that the windows in which I find time to write have shrunk considerably as of late, and I''ve been occupying that time with alternatives (like trying to romance a certain barbarian tiefling...) more often than not. But the next chapter is slowly but surely coming along. I want it out by this weekend, but don''t know if that''ll happen. Fingers crossed, though!


    - C

 Chapter 78 - Siege V - Finale

    Mankind is supreme.


    That is what they teach us at a young age, that the sea of stars is our destiny¡ªnay, our birthright¡ªand any who get in the way of it are simply minor impediments. Ask the greenest recruits of the Guard, and they will espouse mankind¡¯s supremacy like a recited verse. Some will cite the Primer, for that is as its authors intended. Ask the Ecclesiarchy, and they will shout from their citadels of mankind¡¯s absolute authority in the cosmos. Ask the Inquisition, and we will shoot you dead for entertaining the possibility of otherwise. But the truth is far more harrowing than these ignorant or propagandized deceptions.


    The truth, unfortunately, is that life is frail. All life, everywhere, hangs on by but a thread. The knife that slits your throat is the same that stops the beating heart of the most brutal of Xenos horrors. How many hundreds of billions of Imperial citizens have succumbed to the overestimation of their vitality? And has it always been this way? When the Xenos warred through the galaxy before man¡¯s upbringing, had they believed themselves invulnerable? Are we, then, destined for their same destitution if we fail to recognize threats to our existence for what they are?


    I am sure there are many of my Inquisitorial and Commissariat peers alike that would not waste a thought to shoot me for such questions. I may have been one such blind zealot long ago. But time and countless losses force ugly truths down one¡¯s throat if they live long enough. And even now, I hypocritically detest the sharing of individual Inquisitorial philosophies, myself being unwilling to entertain a glance toward the works of the likes of Ravenor, for instance. Not only do I believe studying the philosophies of other Inquisitors to risk an infectious view that may taint one¡¯s duties, but I also worry about the effect we, in our positions of unmatched power and absolute authority, may have on the Imperium for sharing our beliefs. It would do no one any good to hear of my understanding of their weaknesses and frailty. It would not behoove the Imperium to listen to what I have to say. I would not ask it to.


    Nevertheless, as I dwell on this in the wake of untold death and carnage, as medicae units pick steel and scrap shrapnel from my timeless body, I am painfully reminded of my grimly mortal existence. An existence shared, and for some recently lost, by all I know.


    ***


    A psychic tinnitus rung through my head, unheard by many around me. But the sudden incineration of tens of thousands of souls on the lower decks reverberated in my body, while the last-ditch efforts of my command staff to save the enflamed Coldbreed were but a murmur to my ears. I had consigned the deaths of millions before, sure¡ªHestia Majoris being the best example, and Thantalus before that. But these thousands were mine, and I had thrown them to the wolves of the profane Warp. And for what, exactly? The purchase of moments more for the Dawnshadow?


    It dawned on me, then, in that stunned and overwhelmed state of mine, that I would likely not be the one to remove Mortoc¡¯s head from his shoulders. It would need to be someone else. As fires ran rampant across my ship, missile after missile pounding the lower decks and creating soul-sucking shudders through the vest of the vessel, death at last seemed far closer than ever it had earlier in my life. And yet more intangible¡ªwould I even see it coming, or would I find it in the vacuum of space as we suddenly lost hull pressurization? Certainly, far too many of those who answered to me were caught unaware.


    Cal?


    Lucene, standing before me. Trying to snap me from stunned stupor. I recognize it now, in retrospect, but in the moment, I barely processed her presence or action. My eyes were too focused on the scene of self-destruction beyond the viewport, and when her body blocked that, my mind instead looked on ahead to behold the tragedy I had wrought upon us.


    Cal!


    And then the smack came.


    And with it, the rush of sound, overpowering and deafening as the cries of the dead vanished from my head, to be replaced by the panic of the living.


    ¡°¡ªtasked to fires on Decks 13, 15, and 22,¡± ordered Captain Vakian, some distance to my right. He was not trying to speak to me, thankfully, but I heard his voice first and foremost. ¡°We need immediate repair crews on all hull ruptures! Reactor is stabilizing, void shields expected to return in twenty-three minutes, mark.¡±


    ¡°Lucene,¡± I muttered, finally acknowledging her existence. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°I do hope you do not mean spatially, as I had not intended to hit you that hard,¡± she answered.


    ¡°The deck of the Coldbreed, yes. Where are we with the battle?¡± I clarified, heaving out a long, deep breath to get air flowing into and out of my lungs once more. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve grown a bit lost in all the action.¡±


    ¡°Understandable, Cal,¡± she agreed, and then revealed the scene ahead to me by returning to my side, keeping an arm wrapped over my shoulders all the same. ¡°We are crippled, here. The Echoshroud and Lord Orthus are struck as well, and both are boarded. We do not know their internal status. We have lost 24% of our fighter craft¡ªMirena not included, worry not. The other vessels of our fleet have taken considerable damage, but are keeping up the fight.¡±


    ¡°Quintus? Dawnshadow?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Intact. We have taken the brunt of the enemy¡¯s wrath upon our shoulders, shielding the rest. Battlefleet Ixaniad moves to support, but are some time out,¡± she answered.


    ¡°A moment, please,¡± I requested in response, and she obliged, letting me step away from her, nearer to the viewport. I closed my eyes and tried to listen, not to the deaths around me, not to the panic around me, not any physical or psychic audio of the scene. I wanted to listen to my own understanding of battle. I wanted to hear Valeran Mortoc¡¯s stratagems again, as I had hours earlier. I had ignored the voice of my opponent since. I needed to know what Mortoc was up to, to know how he would capitalize on our error, intentional though it was. ¡°Boarding,¡± I muttered to myself after a time.


    ¡°Cal?¡±


    ¡°In our first battle, Telgonus wanted three people alive: myself, Caliman, and van der Skar. They still want us even now. They¡¯ll know of my fleet¡ªthis fleet¡ªbut they won¡¯t know on which vessel I am located. So they¡¯ve boarded Lord Orthus and Echoshroud. They¡¯ll board this ship soon, or try to,¡± I explained. ¡°Pray that this battle may be won before the foe learns where I am or, rather, where I am not. Such would be the doom of our friends.¡±


    And then it stung me, that baleful divinatory sensation in the back of my mind. My gaze was pulled to my lower left, where I beheld the ordinary adamantium that comprised my vessel, but I sensed tremendous danger from it. I could not discern the source of the danger, only its imminent location. Hull breach? I wondered. It did not seem likely; the command bridge was isolated and defended well enough that an immediate breach of its hull seemed doubtful, and I had just discerned that continued fire upon us was equally unlikely given Mortoc¡¯s M.O. behind this invasion.


    ¡°Inquisitor,¡± Captain Vakian called for me, to my right, at last turning my gaze away from my sensory threat. ¡°There is a voxcast for you. From the Lord Orthus. I can direct it to your personal line, if you¡¯d prefer.¡±


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    ¡°Please do, thank you, Captain,¡± I nodded to him, touching a hand to my ear to engage my voxbud. ¡°This is Command-1, come in Lord Orthus,¡± I spoke then, assuming I was likely to speak to Xavier Gradshi, but maintaining formalities for the time being in case the Iron Warriors had broken our vox encryption.


    There was a long pause, most of it occupied by static, and then a heavy sigh on the other end of the vox. Then, finally, my suspicion was correct, and Gradshi answered me. ¡°We¡¯re not the fighting sort like you are, Inquisitor,¡± he said, which was an opening declaration that I did not much see the need for, until he furthered his explanation. ¡°Which I suppose is just a shitty excuse for failure. We cannot hold the ship. They fielded nulls among their infantry. Not many, but enough to make a difference, perhaps some handed over to them from the long-dead Phaenonites. Doesn¡¯t matter, I suppose¡ªthe point stands.¡±


    ¡°Xavier, I¡­we can¡ªcan you scuttle it remotely?¡± I offered, finding myself at a loss of words even though the orders, and warnings, were my own. I refused to accept the reality of what he was telling me, even though I had imposed that reality upon him.


    ¡°Not in the way you envision,¡± he answered, and I heard Bolter fire in the background over his voxcast. ¡°We¡ªthe detonator for the device Varnus set up has been lost. A grave failure. But you gave me a mission, and it is one I intend to complete.¡±


    ¡°Xavier, there¡¯s still time. We could lead a countermand, board your vessel ourselves and extract you and the Psyk unit,¡± I suggested, but was quickly cut off.


    ¡°No. You can¡¯t. I know you can¡¯t. The resources aren¡¯t there. Callant Blackgar, you and I have not maintained the closest of relationships in your retinue, but you have always been kind and respectful to me. And you have given me greater latitude to be a human of the blessed Imperium, not merely a psyker. I have always valued that greatly.¡±


    He had taken a breath and seemed to mean to continue, but I interrupted him then, a broiling fury in the back of my throat¡ªalbeit not directed his way. ¡°Shut up, Xavier, we¡¯ll win this damned fight and retake your vessel after the fact. Just stay alive,¡± I seethed, also waving a hand the way of Captain Vakian, who was trying to get my attention about something. But my ire was, likewise, not directed toward him or any other of mine.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do that, Inquisitor. Not long enough. But I know what I can do. Tell Silas and Luther¡­tell them to hold the Crown. They¡¯ll know. Thank you, Callant Blackgar, for everything. End this war, and make it all worth it. That¡¯s all I need. Emperor be with you,¡± Gradshi answered.


    ¡°Xavier, don¡¯t¡ªXavier!¡± I barked. But there was no response. My eyes shot past a still-protesting Captain Vakian toward the viewport once more, from which I beheld the Lord Orthus, damaged but not irreparable. Impossible, from my vantage, to know the horrors that existed in its many long, darkened halls. Impossible to know the valor that stood defiant. But, after a few moments, I could see Xavier¡¯s plan; the restart of the battered vessel¡¯s void shields, before a great psykana¡ªit was not his alone, and must have been mustered by much of the Psyk unit¡ªthrust those void shields on, toward the enemy. Whatever they were doing ruptured a hole in the engine block of the Lord Orthus, enflaming the already-injured frame of the ship. But the projection of the void shield continue on, and flattened any enemy fightercraft it flew upon while being ineffectual to allied vessels. One final gasp of furious defiance against the enemy, and though it was not sufficient at damaging any capital vessels, it punched a wide hole in the many varied fighter squadrons in the greater theatre of the battle.


    ¡°Callant!¡± Lucene shouted to me from my rear, and despite my awe at Xavier¡¯s sacrifice, I spun on my heels to face her given the suddenness and insistence in her voice. In doing so, I found the bridge mostly evacuated, with only a few stragglers remaining, which was all I got a glimpse of before Lucene pulled me into her grasp and dove into a tackle to the side. The back of my head was on fire¡ªmetaphorically¡ªand at last I understood all the signs, from my own divination to Captain Vakian¡¯s desire to speak with me. As Lucene and I hit the floor of the deck, an Iron Warrior¡¯s boarding torpedo punched through the floor, shattering the command bridge entirely.


    ***


    [Fan out, check for survivors. Mortoc wants some alive, especially those who possess Iron within.]


    [As you command.]


    The platoon obeyed, spreading through the battered command bridge while warning sirens blared through the ship, red lights flickering in irregular oscillation from a damage beacon. One Iron Warrior moved over to a fallen Sister of Battle, her hands stretched out over a piece of scrap metal one of his feet rested upon, and tipped her onto her backside with his other leg. Unconscious, but alive. He raised his Boltgun over her torso, knowing that Mortoc wanted no Sisters and that they would be unlikely to surrender in the first place. Moments before his Boltgun roared, however, the scrap at his feet flung up into the air, crushing the traitor Astartes into the ceiling in a splattering of crimson flesh and grey ceramite. I rose to meet our invaders within the shower of his congealed gore, and immediately caught two or three dozen Bolts in the air before me.


    [That¡¯s Blackgar! Mortoc wants him alive!]


    +THEN HE SHOULD COME FOR ME HIMSELF,+ I roared in response, then thrust their Bolts back upon them before the micro-rockets exploded in my face. The Bolts instead detonated on their armor, which was sufficient at giving them all a good battering, but did not fell a single one of the traitor Astartes. I instead reached for the nearest to me as they all drew various powered weapons, and crushed that fallen ¡®Angel¡¯ into a perfect sphere, another splash of red slamming out from the newly-made ceramite orb. My psykana then rammed that sphere through the chests of half a dozen of our intruders, electrifying them all as it went. But even that was insufficient at killing them. +TWO HEARTS. RIGHT.+ So I pulled the Astartes-sphere back to me, cleaving through the other side of their torsos and dropping the six of them to the ground as a result.


    [Callidus! Put her down!] shouted an Iron Warrior some distance to my left, and I glanced to see him eviscerated in a green blur. I could not visually see Bliss, on account of her synskin blending in to the darkened room, nor did I know the exact details of her armament that I could view, but I knew it was her even without feeling for her mind. And my mind was omnipresent in the remnants of the command bridge. A green blur¡ªit was some kind of blade on her arm, I gathered¡ªsliced through the room, shredding through the once-Astartes as it went. I decided to entrust Bliss to her own slaughter, and it was good that I made that call when I did, as I found another Iron Warrior much nearer to me when I refocused my attention away from Bliss.


    I thrust him away from me in response, but in my fury wanted to see the bastard for myself, with my own¡ªone¡ªeye. So I did. He did not scream at first, but as my psykana ripped his physical body out of his ceramite armor and heavy augmetics, the rueful bastard did roar in agony. I relished it, and I still do as I record this transcript. I pulled his armor into the air behind him while he, still partly attached to it via extended¡ªif damaged¡ªbionics, was pulled from its shell nearer to me. +YOU DON¡¯T LOOK SO GREAT TO ME NOW. YOU ARE NOTHING WORTH THIS BATTLE. A THOUSAND OF YOU ARE NOT WORTH HIM!+ my mind screeched, overpowering his own mind and those of other ¡®Astartes¡¯ in the room. +YOU ARE FLESH AND BLOOD, WEAK OF MIND IF STRONG OF BODY. AND EVEN THEN, NOT STRONG ENOUGH!+ And then I pulled on that which was within him, and his screams reached new heights, an intensity that exceeded even that which my once-Interrogator Hans Okustin had endured in my service.


    They did not last nearly as long as Okustin did, though that may have been due to me killing the damned Iron Warrior too soon. But he at least survived for a few moments after I had extracted his skeleton and inner organs from his outer flesh, performing a live, full-body dissection via my psykana. Veins still pumped blood around his skeletal interior just as pipes and wires still fueled his exterior corpse attached to the suspended power armor behind him. I got a good look at his insignificance for a few moments before crushing a hand, extended, into a fist, slamming his body back together with force violent enough to explode the fallen Angel into yet another shower of crimson gore.


    I then turned toward my next victim before feeling a heavy weight smack into the back of my head. The discombobulation that followed made me fall to the floor, which involved a greater drop than I anticipated; apparently in suspending my dissection off the ground, I had also raised myself into the air as well, unbeknownst to me and completely unintentionally. When I did land upon the ground again, my head¡ªand my mind with it¡ªswiveled around to get a look at my assailant, finding it to be Bliss Carmichael. I had the time to process her presence before she rammed a fist into my face, knocking me out cold at once.


    And I was more thankful of her aid, then and there, than when she had busted me out of prison long ago. She had spared me from losing control of my psykana, and in the rage birthed of Xavier¡¯s loss, I think I had wanted to. And not only that, but at long last, she provided me a form of freedom from this damnable, wretched battle - a freedom I would not have otherwise volunteered for.


    ***


    You were more of a fighter than you know, Xavier Gradshi. Emperor be with you.

 Chapter 79 - Remembrance

    Sleep did not find its way to me very often in the days that followed. After a few days of restless recovery, Lucene did offer the notion of post-traumatic sex, which may have seen me to an exhausted slumber had I not declined. So we laid together, then, night after night in uneventful silence. Xavier was on my mind most nights. Sometimes it was Hans, sometimes Czevia. Sometimes Thaddeus. Young Val Eracian even paid my thoughts a visit, once. All the dead faces, all the violence¡ªI remembered every moment of it. I wish I could say only my former allies visited me, but that was not true. My mind recreated the likes of Antonius Sigird, Holicar Espirov, and Foxon Silverman to haunt me as my restlessness continued. Silverman was happy to see me suffer while Espirov noted the weakness of my flesh¡ªnot unlike loyal admechs, I observed. My mind¡¯s recollection of Sigird, for his part, was at least a bit respectful for one who had been an archenemy of mine. Sigird¡ªor my memory of him, rather¡ªdid not relish in my suffering, but he did deride and lament the weakness and softness his slayer had developed since we had last spoken.


    There was a memorial service on the Dawnshadow for the fallen. It was insufficient. How could it have been otherwise? We had lost north of three hundred and thirty thousand loyal servants of the Throne, beloved friends and cherished allies all. To try to recount the memory of all who were lost and grieve for them all at once was an impossibility. It¡ªthe memorial service¡ªalso felt rushed, probably because it was. The Inquisitors present knew that the window to strike back against the enemy was fast closing, both tactically and in terms of best leveraging the wrathful contempt that the survivors held for the foe. But speaking of present Inquisitors, neither Lord Caliman or Emile Al-Amar were present. I knew Caliman to have been injured in the battle and assumed Al-Amar was as well. I planned to visit him in the Dawnshadow¡¯s infirmary.


    But before doing that, I knew I needed to look after my own, namely Silas and Luther, both of whom were closer family to Xavier than I had been. I found them, after the service, in one of the many canteens of the starfort, after hours, helping themselves to some amasec that they undoubtedly poached from behind the counter. I was not much inclined to cite them for their robbery. Unfortunately for me, my nonexistent tormenting trio accompanied me in my journey to Silas and Luther¡¯s table. ¡°People die all the time, Blackgar, do you really see the need to grieve so greatly for all of them?¡± Silverman asked, sitting idly atop the counter of a table a few stations away from where Silas and Luther were having their drinks.


    ¡°I concur with the Phaenonite. This is an inefficient use of your time, Blackgar,¡± Espirov suggested, taking up residence next to Silverman.


    ¡°Who asked?¡± I growled under my breath, walking past them both. However, more overtly, I greeted my allies as I neared them. ¡°Gentlemen.¡±


    ¡°Cal,¡± Silas answered, while Luther responded with an ¡°Inquisitor.¡± ¡°Thank you for joining us for this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m honored to have been invited,¡± I said.


    ¡°But of course. You were his CO. And more than that, a friend,¡± Luther replied. ¡°Alas, we do not have Gleece for you, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Well thankfully I am not allergic to amasec. Pass me a glass,¡± I suggested, and while Silas did so, I admitted, ¡°I¡­I do not know what to say. One would think I would have figured it out after all these years of loss.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to say, Cal,¡± Silas shook his head, and Luther seemed to agree. ¡°Xavier died a loyal servant to the throne, defiant to his last breath. There is only one ending our kind can wish for, and it is that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please,¡± Silverman sighed from behind me, and stood to leave the room. So there was that, at least.


    ¡°Ignore him,¡± Sigird suggested as Silverman departed. ¡°That Inquisitor hasn¡¯t the foggiest notion of service.¡±


    I¡¯d love to ignore the lot of you, I thought to myself. Then, audibly, I replied to Silas, ¡°Indeed, he died as he lived: heroically, and making a profound difference in our blessed Imperium. We should be so lucky to achieve similar ends. To Xavier Gradshi,¡± I offered, raising my newly-acquired glass of amasec. Luther and Silas were happy to meet my toast, and it was then that I noticed an unexpected oddity¡ªLuther appeared notably older than Silas, though Silas was indeed the former¡¯s senior by a good margin. I had not stopped to get a good look at Luther in some time, apparently, or perhaps it was just the lighting of the room at the time. But indeed, Luther was growing to be an older man, even on the rejuvenat, he having been cured of Absalom¡¯s curse where we had declined such a fate. His hair had begun to silver, and wrinkles, while subtle, had begun to appear at the edges of his face where expressions peaked. He had crossed the threshold, visually, from middle-aged to old, though it would not have been fair to slight him with a description akin to being elderly, nor to suggest that he was ever past his prime.


    After that moment¡¯s contemplation of my fellow, I asked them both, ¡°So, each of you, give me a memory of him, then. You both knew him best.¡±


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    ¡°He was an annoying sod,¡± Luther spat out, unable to contain his grin in the process. ¡°Always knew what you were going to say before you said it. Sometimes he¡¯d say whatever you were about to to steal your thunder entirely. Or maybe he just did that to me,¡± Luther mused, grunting. ¡°Way back on Thantalus, when we were just boys, I recall almost coming to blows with him. You may not have known. He was amicable, even then, but we both felt we had something to prove to you, and he was happy to use the insight of others¡ªsuch as myself¡ªto make himself stand out to you. I think it was during our investigation of the Leavenswald family. But, somehow, that crisis was averted. Probably on account of mutual discipline. It was years before I understood that his being in my head so often probably helped us to understand one another so well. Took me a while to gleam that bit of wisdom.¡±


    ¡°Bold, Luther, to claim to any wisdom at all,¡± Silas snorted, also unable to hold his laughter in. Luther took the blow in stride, shrugging it off and drinking to Silas¡¯s dig at him as though to say ¡®Touch¨¦.¡¯ The interaction between them both reminded me, greatly, of my own verbal sparring with Hans Okustin long ago, just before we made landfall on Hestia Majoris. While I reminisced about Hans for a moment, Silas addressed my earlier request. ¡°I remember...ha. I remember how happy Xavier was to have been the medium through which you were able to speak to us after your capture in Abseradon. Obviously he wasn¡¯t thrilled with the necessity of it, but he was so proud¡ªas he should have been¡ªto assist you so directly. That, coupled with the revelation of your recovery, had him almost bouncing off the walls. Tough to picture, I know¡ªrarely did he let himself put his emotions out for show.¡±


    ¡°See, Blackgar, what joy your suffering brings to others?¡± Sigird suggested with a scoffing laugh, moving from his table to sit at ours, between Silas and Luther across from me. ¡°You certainly made for great entertainment to the lot of us.¡±


    Right up until I split your skulls, I imagine, I agreed in silence.


    ¡°What about you, Inquisitor?¡± Luther asked, and I must have grunted in not understanding. ¡°Got any stories of our second favorite psyker?¡± he clarified, nodding to me. I guess I was the first.


    ¡°I...uh...in truth, the best I have Silas has already spoken to. But my recollection of the event is from a very different point of view, of being so grateful to be invited into the welcoming warmth that was Xavier¡¯s being. I have always valued Xavier so tremendously highly for that, not merely out of gratitude for his exceptional service, but because during that period of psychic intimacy, I could see in him an incorruptibility that I greatly admired. There are few psykers that possess such a gift. There are times when I question whether I am among them. But Xavier, for sure, was incorruptible, through and through. A profoundly loyal and unquestionably capable soldier in service to Holy Terra, and it was ever my honor to have him within my retinue,¡± I explained, downing my shot of amasec in full when I had finished.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that the bloody truth,¡± Luther agreed. ¡°Competent enough to make one envious of him but loyal enough to keep one respectful of `em. Yeah, that prick had it all, eh?¡± he suggested, again bursting into laughter. ¡°Ah, I¡¯ll miss that son of a bitch. Universe will be quieter without him, and I had come to enjoy the sound of his cane¡ªsorry, his staff¡ªclanging against the floor. I always called it his cane, poking fun at how old it made him look. Guess the joke¡¯s on me now, eh?¡±


    ¡°Well, you make it work. Mostly,¡± Silas shrugged, then moved in for another sip of amasec. ¡°What a refill, Cal?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯ll suffice for now, I hope,¡± I shook my head, covering my glass with my palm. ¡°Hey, before he...before he made his sacrifice, he asked me to pass along a message to you two. He told me to tell you both to ¡®hold the Crown.¡¯ He said you¡¯d understand.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Luther muttered. ¡°We do. And we will. That much goes without saying,¡± he agreed, pouring himself another shot of amasec and sending it down immediately.


    ¡°Do you know what that message means, Cal?¡± Silas asked me.


    ¡°No,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°There are two things worth dying for for a loyal soldier¡ªthe Throne and the Crown. Don¡¯t need to tell you what the Throne is, but the Crown is the Commanding Officer that best sees to the Throne¡¯s security. You¡¯re the Crown. And Xavier knew it was worth dying to keep you safe, as do we.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°He looked up to you mightily. As do we,¡± Silas added.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I sighed, and finally let my face fall upon my open palms, unable to contain myself any longer. I had not broken into a sob, but I had grown short of breath, and was otherwise unable to maintain my composure. For far too long, I had inspired such loyalty in my men, and there was only ever one ultimate, final consequence of that loyalty. For far too long, I had doomed myself to such loss.


    But, rather than spiraling down that pitiable train of thought, I as ever could rely on my compatriots to keep me going. This time around, Silas noted the irony in my reaction to the above. ¡°You see that, Vaigg? Ain¡¯t that a rarity.¡±


    ¡°Aye, the Commissar that cares. Never seen or heard of that before,¡± Luther agreed in jest, chuckling to himself afterward.


    ¡°It¡¯s more common than you¡¯d think,¡± I grumbled, then raised my head up after another deep breath. ¡°Most I knew in the Commissariat cared about those beneath them. But emotional attachment is not the modus operandi of Imperial doctrine, so it is not advertised as much as the alternative,¡± I acknowledged. I then tapped my glass twice with my augmetic index finger, creating a gentle ring in the process. Silas filled my glass up with more amasec, which I took another shot from immediately thereafter. ¡°Humans are resources, and resources are scarce on the field of battle. Not to be wasted. Waste is punishable by immediate execution,¡± I recalled from my early years as an aspiring Commissar. ¡°Xavier gave his life to provide us with our own continued existence. It is my responsibility, and mine alone, to ensure we make the most of that sacrifice, for the Emperor and the Golden Throne. And to such an end, I will have Valeran Mortoc¡¯s head, or die trying to wrestle it from his shoulders.¡±


    ¡°If you get that far,¡± Sigird muttered while my comrades and I drank to our renewed purpose in life.

 Chapter 80 - Apocrypha II

    In the words of Valeran Mortoc, Captain, Shatter Corps


    With three million men and eight hundred Marines, we have plunged the blade of our wrath deep into the Ixaniad Sector. Not all of them will return, but those that do will be hardened and strengthened for their journey. Already, my field commanders report immediate success in the destruction of Imperial defenses on the Sector¡¯s border worlds, though it is worth remembering that my information is likely outdated by at least several months. Alas, time and space work against the pursuit of staying current as events unfold.


    And yet, despite these early victories, I have received reports that troubled me. A squad of our brothers were felled in a town square on New Cealis. There were no apparent defenses that could have so thoroughly exterminated their advance. Moreover, our quarry for the planet, its Governor, was also found dead before we got to him. Head blown off. Bolter munition. However, our invasion did not find Imperial Astartes anywhere on the world. There was an Inquisitor present. A capable one. An intelligent one, one who could recognize our desire for the Governor and work to stifle our ability to meet all of our goals. The world may be ours now, yes, but for lack of the intelligence we had sought, one may find it a Pyrrhic victory in nature.


    Ouranos eludes us yet, hiding behind our ignorant foes. As is ever his wont.


    I find myself perturbed by the development on New Cealis. If one Inquisitor is capable of felling our brothers and emerging unscathed¡ªwhich they have; we have not been able to find trace of them and not for lack of trying¡ªone must wonder what further casualties we will face. Some casualties are anticipated, especially so from the Inquisition as a whole. But this war we wage against Ixaniad is not the final war. We must have survivors yet to take the fight to Ouranos. We could in one reality subjugate all of Ixaniad, but need centuries to rebuild our fighting strength. Ouranos would leave in that time, fleeing behind some other unwitting meatshields. Such an outcome, while valuable in the greater war against the Imperium, is intolerable where it concerns the extermination of this dreadful cur.


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    I do not intend to spend my eons chasing Ouranos from one sacrificial lamb to another. No, there are worthier uses of my time than he. So whichever Inquisitor troubled us on New Cealis, I will lay low. And whichever may yet get in our way before Ouranos, I will lay them low. And when, finally, my hands grasp the deranged skull of the cowardly runt himself, I will show the stars the expulsion of his gore, and paint my heels in the color of the bastard¡¯s blood, whatever it may be.


    This is inevitable. And if it is not, then I was without Iron in my veins. But were that so, I would not have found myself a Captain of the Corps, and one would be foolish to question that appointment of my superiors. Hence, then, inevitability. Ouranos will die. The only question is how much blood is shed in the process, and from whom it flows. As I dictate this log, the Inquisition starfort over Quintus is besieged by our forces, and when it is reduced to a smoldering corpse of its former self, we will use it¡ªand the world below¡ªas a staging point from which to propel ourselves against the true enemy.


    Such is our design, such is our fate, and so it shall be. Ouranos, and Ixaniad before him, shall know the might of Iron and the weakness of cowardice.


    Iron Within, Iron Without!

 Chapter 81 - Cronos

    Upon my arrival at Lord Caliman¡¯s private medicae, I found his room to be more densely populated than I had expected. It was not crowded, per se, but there were a number of people in it, most of which were of Caliman¡¯s retinue and core staff. Lord Halloid van der Skar was also present in the room, as were a collection of servitors maintaining necessary equipment around and attached to Caliman. He appeared very sorely wounded, a rebreather affixed to his face while the rest of his body was otherwise hidden beneath gentle fabrics. He had the strength to nod to me as I entered, and then again to van der Skar.


    ¡°Blackgar,¡± van der Skar greeted me, extending a hand for me to shake. I took it and greeted him in kind. ¡°Is he stable?¡± van der Skar asked the medicae attendants.


    ¡°Enough so, for now,¡± one noted. I did not know any of their names, nor did I much care to begin identifying them at the time.


    ¡°Good. Vacate the room. Everyone. Servitors included,¡± van der Skar ordered. The servitors obeyed at once, but Caliman¡¯s sentient retinue turned to him. He nodded in silent assent, and from that his staff began to depart. As they left, van der Skar turned to me and asked, ¡°Are you well, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°Well enough, my Lord,¡± I sighed and shrugged. ¡°We are likewise not without our casualties.¡±


    ¡°They say a torpedo struck your bridge,¡± Caliman suggested, voice raspy and without much heft behind it.


    ¡°And that you and this¡­Carmichael individual exterminated its contents. Quite the tale,¡± van der Skar added.


    ¡°They had poor timing, catching me after I had lost one of my own,¡± I explained. ¡°I cannot imagine such a feat warrants a private chat.¡±


    ¡°Indeed not,¡± van der Skar confirmed, then stood before me, ahead of my view of Caliman. ¡°Callant Blackgar, to whom are you most loyal?¡±


    ¡°The God Emperor of Mankind,¡± I answered at once.


    ¡°And what is your charge?¡±


    ¡°The eradication of all His enemies.¡±


    ¡°Who are His enemies?¡±


    ¡°The Xenos, the Mutant, the Heretic, and the Weak.¡±


    ¡°Why are the Weak His foe?¡±


    ¡°It is the Weak that fall to temptation; it is they that may bow out from His Light. Better to scorch a thousand feeble fools dead than allow one to kneel before the Archenemy,¡± I recited. I had been through this once before, when I was first made Inquisitor. I did not now know why I was being given the same line of questioning, but I questioned it not.


    ¡°And what is the Archenemy?¡±


    ¡°The Daemon.¡±


    ¡°And will you face that foe wherever it can be found?¡±


    ¡°Yes; I do not fear the Daemon, for I am what the Daemon fears.¡±


    ¡°And with what armament will you lay it low?¡±


    ¡°My contempt as my armor, my disgust as my shield, and my hatred as my sword. With these, and with my faith as my cause, no enemy of man may break me.¡±


    With that, Lord van der Skar at last paused in the recital of our creed. His eyes looked me up and down while his body remained otherwise stiff. After a moment of tense silence, he broke the scene and turned to Caliman. The pair nodded to each other, after which van der Skar turned back to me. ¡°And what does that make you?¡±


    ¡°Inquisitor of the Holy Ordos, now and forever,¡± I answered.


    Lord van der Skar looked me over again, and then stepped past me, moving across the room to lean against one of its walls. As he passed me, he called out, ¡°Good. Show him.¡± He then gestured to Lord Caliman, provoking my gaze to follow. Caliman rummaged about beneath his sheets, slowly and with some apparent effort, but eventually lifted a sizable hunk of adamantium out into open view. It was of a necklace, presently wrapped around his own neck, though the object of that necklace was in the shape of the Imperial cross, an adamantium skull in the fold and four crimson gems at its diagonals, all affixed to a blackened sigil.


    I recognized it at once. ¡°A Rosarius!¡± I declared, a touch of amazement poking through my voice at the sight of the soularmor. ¡°Why show it to me? What for?¡±


    ¡°For you. If you find and kill Mortoc. You will need it in battles ahead. I, soon, will not,¡± Caliman answered.


    ¡°You¡¯re dying,¡± I inferred, any last glimmers of amazement on my face fading to a grimace.


    ¡°And that is far from the most troubling news we have for you today, Blackgar,¡± van der Skar warned me, sighing. ¡°Which is why we had to be sure of your integrity. Or, as sure as we could be, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Is it in doubt?¡± I scoffed.


    ¡°Now? Perhaps not. But there is a dark future ahead. And in that era, if you break¡­well, a terrible gambit will have been lost,¡± van der Skar answered. ¡°We have¡­hmph. There is no good way to tell you this story. Yet you must know of it, at least in part. It concerns you too greatly for you to go in blind,¡± he confessed, shaking his head in obvious disagreement and debate with himself. ¡°The stack of lies must begin to peel away, for all our sakes.¡±


    ¡°Lies?¡± I asked.


    ¡°May I?¡± Caliman asked in a grunt. van der Skar shrugged and gestured for him to speak up. ¡°I prefer a blunt approach. You know this well, Blackgar. So here, the raw reality: You did not kill the 8<sup>th</sup> Pyrran Honeblades.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, scoffing again. ¡°Don¡¯t insult my men, Caliman, I won¡¯t react kindly to that even in your state.¡±


    ¡°You did lead your men against the greenskin Xenos, yes, as Commissar Blackgar. You were gravely wounded, yes. And there was a¡­psychic event that emitted from you. But it was not yours,¡± Caliman furthered.


    ¡°What in the Blasted Hells are you saying? My psykana revealed itself with explosive ferocity, and I reduced every living thing on that battlefield¡ª¡± I began to object, but was interrupted.


    ¡°To dust,¡± van der Skar finished for me. ¡°Yes. That happened. But you did not do it. It is a real memory¡ªyour memory¡ªthat glosses over the horrifying reality of the situation, programmed in to you on the Black Ships at our behest.¡±


    ¡°Oh, go on then, spin your tale further. What reality, then?¡± I asked, still in such thorough disbelief that I did not have the slightest bit of doubt in myself at the time. The conviction of an Inquisitor is damnably hard to break, even by his peers.


    ¡°Bluntly?¡± Caliman suggested, making me turn back to him. ¡°There¡¯s a daemon in your head. It killed your men and the Xenos to protect itself within you.¡±


    ¡°Well now I know you¡¯re both full of voidshit,¡± I confirmed for myself. ¡°If that were true and you knew it so, I wouldn¡¯t be here. Both of you¡ªand dozens of others in our ordo¡ªwould have killed me long ago. You wouldn¡¯t be teasing me with gifts of material might like a carrot on a stick,¡± I explained, shaking my head and gesturing to Caliman''s Rosarius.


    ¡°Gifts?¡± Caliman grunted. ¡°Gifts like a Nemesis falchion to keep an unholy psykana at bay? And oh how you¡¯ve grown, preferentially, to keep it by your side at all times, Blackgar. Gifts like a Rosarius, to hold back the profane? Gifts such as these?¡± he suggested.


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    ¡°Entertaining such a fallacy, why would either of you leave me alive then, hm? And why should I not just end myself now, were what you say to hold any veracity?¡± I objected further. ¡°I am Inquisitor to Ordo Hereticus, and if I harbor the daemonic, I am better off dead.¡±


    ¡°That would be the logical approach, and the one I once advocated for. But it was not decided so,¡± Caliman sighed. It was then, finally, that doubt hit me, and only when I looked in his eyes. I saw in them terror. Of me. He had had a chance to see me dead, and had argued for it. But he was overruled, and now was in the process of fading away while I still drew breath. It was the same sort of misery I had encountered in realizing that I would not live to solve all the Imperium¡¯s problems, nor see them solved by others.


    ¡°Decided by who?¡± I asked softly, the doubt in myself creeping in.


    ¡°There was a council,¡± van der Skar answered. I turned back to him. ¡°Inquisitors. Lord-rank and above. Representatives from the Ordos Majoris, and many of the Ordos Minoris¡ªexcluding Sector-specific ordos. The council was convened at the request of the Ordo Chronos, and it was they that requested your continued¡­survival. It was they that insisted Thaddeus Scayn be the one to recover you.¡±


    ¡°And why would they want me alive?¡± I asked, voice quiet and without its prior rage against what had been absurd.


    ¡°We¡­much as we believe you should know some of this, they were adamant you cannot know that much,¡± van der Skar replied. ¡°They, these keepers of chronology, they knew much. Too much. And we met their source and found them¡­convincing. Suffice to say that they have been dreadfully accurate of foretold events that have arisen thus far; those which they were allowed to share with even us, that is.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a collaborator, then, within the Ordo Chronos,¡± I inferred. A highly secretive ordo of the Inquisition, I only barely knew of the Ordo Chronos¡¯s existence. And what I knew, I did not fully know; in fact, it was better to say I had heard rumors that they existed, rumors that I may have just as soon assumed to be falsities. But the rumors spoke of Agents of the Emperor that pursued and eliminated anomalies in time, often as a consequence of Warp travel. I had inferred that their source was one such anomaly, one that knew of our present as being in their past.


    ¡°A good word for it,¡± Caliman admitted.


    ¡°This daemon, then, that you say resides within me¡ªdoes it have a name?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It does. Or, rather, an alias it uses and is referenced by in the materium. Alas, we do not know its True Name,¡± van der Skar began. ¡°It goes by Cronos. A different spelling from the Inquisitorial Ordo. It is unclear to us whether the two are inherently connected, but from what we have gathered, there is no implied relation.¡±


    ¡°Blast radius?¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s asking what the zone of impact would be were it to claw out of his head,¡± Caliman explained to van der Skar. ¡°I would want to know too. But we don¡¯t know. We only have guesswork. Sector-level, minimum. It could possibly threaten the whole of the Obscurus if unleashed. And yet the council reached an adamancy as to the necessity of your tolerated continuation. Time, and the breaking thereof, seems to be a more significant threat.¡±


    I pulled away, pacing across the room. Caliman¡¯s and van der Skar¡¯s eyes trailed behind me. ¡°This is all insane. Have they, the Ordo Chronos, known everything about my life? Did they know about this?¡± I asked, and held up my augmetic arm. van der Skar nodded solemnly. ¡°So they knew Hestia Majoris. More important, they sent Thaddeus to me after my¡ªCronos¡¯s¡ªpsychic outburst, which means they sent Thaddeus to his death in Abseradon. How many of my¡ªXavier, did they know Xavier would die?¡± I got no response save for an empty stare. ¡®Yes¡¯ was my interpretation of that. That stopped me in my tracks. ¡°What am I supposed to do with any of this information?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an Inquisitor. You took the creed,¡± van der Skar replied. ¡°You live with it. You do your job and keep it secret. And should you find a means to address Cronos, you do so without hesitation no matter the cost.¡± My head was ringing, my world spinning. I looked around the room and spied a chair, with armrests, to sit in, and moved for it at once. As I sat down, van der Skar continued, ¡°Were you anyone else, Blackgar, I might apologize. But you¡¯re an Inquisitor, through and through. This is the job we all share, and it is only ours¡ªyours¡ªbecause no one else in the Imperium can be trusted with it.¡±


    I sat with that for moments more, eventually bringing my face into my hands in a futile move to hold the weight of my head. Eventually, when it became evident that only my neck could do so, my hands fell from my face and were held before me, that I might look them over, one flesh and blood and the other mechanized. Keeping them in view, I asked, ¡°How much of me is real?¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡± Caliman grunted.


    ¡°You reprogrammed my memory of the 8<sup>th</sup>. How much of who I am is who I was?¡± I clarified.


    ¡°We did not change much about your personality, at least not intentionally,¡± van der Skar answered. ¡°I understand that since the 8<sup>th</sup> you¡¯ve hated your psykana, and the fact that you possess it. That was not our intention, but it¡¯s also not an unexpected result given the memory we had provided for you to cover up Cronos¡¯s reveal. We have not endeavored to redefine who you were or are now, and most of your memories are intact and genuine.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s¡­is there¡­do we have a dossier on Cronos? Some form of intel, perhaps, that Malleus may possess?¡± I wondered. ¡°And what is the action plan for it?¡±


    ¡°Malleus has nothing. Or, if they have anything, their investigation has only begun following Thaddeus Scayn¡¯s investigation and sanctioning of you, as well as whatever they gleamed from Ordo Chronos¡¯s source,¡± van der Skar explained. ¡°What we do know is that which is usual and expected of the daemonic; the more that know Cronos by name, the more powerful it becomes. It is selfish in nature, but does appear to have a master. We can also infer that it can be dealt with; it saw the need to protect itself¡ªand you¡ªfrom the Xenos. We believe it was not strong enough to emerge into the materium in full at that point, and is likewise unable to emerge from the wards we¡¯ve implanted within you, nor against the suppression provided by your armaments. And yet¡­Ordo Chronos insists it can incur damage on a multi-system scale if left unchecked. We also¡­hm. Cronos possesses a relation to Ouranos. We are unsure if they are rivals, allies, or something else. But the source did confirm they are aware of one another.¡±


    ¡°If they were allies, why would Ouranos be designing my end through Lucene?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A fair question. One we do not know the answer to. Where concerns the daemonic and heretical, it is possible they pursue the same overall goal, but have different intentions for reaching it. Ours must be equivalent: to purge them both in Holy Flame.¡±


    ¡°Does the source believe such a thing possible?¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­tough to say,¡± van der Skar admitted. ¡°They did not seem to know.¡±


    ¡°And as for your action plan, it is not much changed in the immediate, hard though that may be to accept,¡± Caliman answered my earlier question. ¡°Pursue the Shatter Corps. Find and eliminate Valeran Mortoc. When that is done, see where the Emperor guides you from there. And along the way, foster your relationship with Seraina¡ªBliss Carmichael.¡±


    ¡°Uh, ex-excuse me?¡± I stammered, that one catching me by surprise even still. ¡°Where does that come from? Why Bliss?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need her. And she already needs you,¡± Caliman explained. ¡°I already told you that I assigned her to you in case you needed to be put down. That hasn¡¯t changed. In the event of an imminent catastrophic showing from Cronos, Carmichael may not be able to kill the daemon herself outright, but she can certainly kill you before Cronos succeeds in emerging from you. When we are gone¡ªwhich for me will likely be soon¡ªCarmichael will be the only one you can turn to for that sort of security. She is, also, an Inquisitor. She can know some of what we¡¯ve shared with you.¡±


    ¡°OK. Sure. A scorched earth policy, I suppose. But why does she need me?¡± I asked, recognizing the oddity that Caliman had wasted weakened breath to specify such a point.


    He opened his mouth to reply, but did not find the words. The response, whatever it was, troubled him¡ªI saw further pain in his eyes. van der Skar revealed its source: ¡°Emile Al-Amar is dead. I understand the two are sisters.¡±


    ¡°What? How?¡± I asked in a stunned blink, which prompted a snort from Caliman.


    ¡°Really?¡± Caliman asked in response, and gestured over himself. Whatever had ruined him so had likewise slain Emile. ¡°And I understand her current¡­err¡­¡®mate¡¯ declined the timelessness which you and she possess. Save for you, she will be alone in the cosmos, in time. That girl does not do well with loneliness. Keep her close, as much for your sake as her own.¡±


    ¡°We ask a great deal of you, Callant Blackgar,¡± van der Skar acknowledged. ¡°And as ever, time is a grave enemy. But for now, focus on the task at hand. Had we the opportunity, we would have spared you this information until Mortoc was dead, but we cannot. Do not let this conversation distract you even so. Find Valeran Mortoc and put a Bolt in his skull. Quintus is saved, but lost. The planet¡¯s location and strategic relevance are compromised. As the Dawnshadow needs to move in the first place, it will join you in your crusade across the stars, at least in part. But it cannot leave Ixaniad.¡±


    ¡°Jaegetri¡¯s not in Ixaniad,¡± I noted.


    ¡°Precisely. If that intel holds up, and we continue to believe Jaegetri is where our bastard foe resides, you must venture there without the aid of a starfort. Some of Battlefleet Ixaniad may join you; the reinforcing fleet we received was commanded by Admiral Alejandro Batos¡ªthe very same you encountered and worked with during the Hestia Majoris affair, though he was but a Rear Admiral then. In him, you may find an ally willing to lay siege beyond Ixaniad¡¯s borders. This is not an impossible war, but it is a bloody one. See it finished, Blackar,¡± van der Skar ordered. ¡°For the Emperor, and the Glory of Mankind.¡±


    ¡°For the Emperor,¡± Caliman and I repeated in unison, though his was weak and weary, mine somber and hollow.

 Chapter 82 - Crusade

    Lord Inquisitor Igan Caliman passed away at the outset of the campaign our Inquisitorial Battlefleet launched against the Shatter Corps. He survived the initial shock of Warp Translation as the Dawnshadow was tugged into the Warp, but succumbed to his wounds during the shock of emerging from the Warp at our first destination. There was no time for a great service for him, as had been given for the thousands en masse following the Battles for Quintus. No, instead, Caliman perished amidst immediate combat, we having succeeded in following the fleet that had attacked Quintus. Caliman died surrounded by his immediate retinue, and even they, once seeing to his body, forced themselves into the fray once more, Agents of the Emperor still. I would not know of them, nor of Caliman¡¯s fate, until after that battle was won. The thought occurred to me to take any of them under my wing that wanted to join me, but, ultimately, I did not, for two reasons. One, Lord van der Skar beat me to the punch in that regard. Two, it dawned on me that I had already inherited those operatives¡ªor perhaps it should be the singular operative¡ªthat Caliman had intended for me, in Bliss.


    While not without further losses on our side of things, the remainder of the Shatter Corps initial attack fleet perished in a whimper of futility. That battle was, however, far from the end of our crusade; indeed, it was merely the beginning. Our war across the stars, lengthy and costly though it was, carried on from one world to the next, battleground after battleground, theater after theater. Radagen III to Carillian, and further still. The Shatter Corps had, for their part, established a competent foothold on the edge of Ixaniad. The success of our modest, fractional Battlefleet was due, largely, to the fact that they had overextended, and the rest of their voidships were elsewhere in Ixaniad, trying to conquer new territory. They would not know we were blasting out their flanks until they were, inevitably, forced into a retreat elsewhere, only to find that they did not have the strongholds and citadels they had raised in their wakes that they thought they did.


    And they were strongholds and citadels, all raised upon these conquered lands. It was not my goal to blow apart world after world, nor did I have the armament for such destruction. So, instead, we besieged each world, slowly but surely crippling, exhausting, and pounding the traitorous occupants of these worlds into oblivion. I suppose, on this note of pace, I should speak on the passage of time thus far in this war, as it is unlike my other accounts of my prior operations. Where I had spent some months in Abseradon and perhaps a year to close out the Phaenonite affair once my Agents were found on Amnes Minoris, it had already been a year of this war against the Shatter Corps when Lord Caliman passed away. The months, of which there were many of unpleasantly great lengths, carried on from there. Warp Translation, while unmistakably fast for the purposes of interstellar travel, was not instantaneous¡ªat least, not usually. Likewise, it took weeks yet to reclaim each lost world from the tyrannical grip of the enemy. Indeed, raw destruction may have been a quicker route, but again, that was not my pursuit.


    Twenty months after I had first fled New Cealis at the onset of this war, I finally staged my return. What was once a prime border world of the Imperial Faith had been reduced to a treacherous forward operating base for the Shatter Corps to manage the logistics of their invasion. It was, for that reason, heavily defended, more so than other individual worlds we had retaken on our journey. At Lucene¡¯s insistence, coupled with the wisdom of strategy, my vessel hung back in this engagement, as it had in many others, for it¡ªalong with much of my fleet¡ªwas made for longer-range engagements rather than being shoved down the enemies¡¯ throats as I had endeavored in the Second Battle of Quintus. To this end, my vessel did not sustain much damage, and I likewise did not sustain much injury beyond the personal strain of watching my allies bleed on my behalf.


    On that note¡­


    ¡°Incoming secured voxcast for you, Inquisitor, from the bridge of the Pristine,¡± Captain Vakian told me amidst a flurry of other commands to his subordinates. In truth, I hesitated. In one breath, I hesitated in sorrowful remembrance of when Xavier had reached out to me from the Lord Orthus. It had been many months since then, but the words we had then shared with one another were far too few to last me the remainder of my life. In the next breath, I hesitated because it occurred to me that I did not have any of the Hestian gang aboard the Pristine, so I was wondering who may have been reaching out to me, specifically; fleet coordination was carried out by and between helmsmen and Captains.


    ¡°My private line, please, Captain Vakian,¡± I assented after those moments of thought, stepping forward and out of a tight group of myself, Lucene, Zha, and Varnus. As ever, Bliss was present as well, but kept her distance so as to keep an eye on everything. After a few steps and Vakian¡¯s go-ahead for me to speak to whomever was asking for me, I said, ¡°Command-1 to Pristine bridge, come in, Pristine.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, Blackgar,¡± returned a voice I did not immediately recognize. An Inquisitor¡¯s paranoia may have suggested the phrase was spoken tauntingly, but I sensed no malice in its tone. ¡°Some decades at least. And here we are again, with you being the only one I¡¯ve spoken to for the better part of a century.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll need more to go on, who am I speaking to?¡± I returned, still more clueless than I liked.


    ¡°Ah! Of course, my manners! Stealth-1-1, sir, Jack Harr. But...that¡¯s not entirely accurate, is it?¡± Harr suggested.


    ¡°Issik,¡± I muttered, and was met with musing assent on the other end of the vox. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be dead.¡±


    ¡°By your hand¡ªor head, rather¡ªno less. I think, perhaps, I was born again of Harr¡¯s dreams. Something tucked away in his subconscious hidden from your attempt at removing me. Regardless of how I¡¯m still here, I am, and have been for some time. But that is not why I contact you now,¡± he clarified.


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    ¡°Then what is?¡±


    A pained breath followed. Wherever Jack Harr¡ªor Vilk Issik, it seemed¡ªwas, he was injured in some capacity. Not enough to hamper his speaking, but enough to impose discomfort. ¡°You, Inquisitor, have given me, through the lens of Jack Harr, a life of dreams. She is exactly that, after all¡ªthe stuff of a man¡¯s dreams, and with such a fitting name to boot. The faithful fool I have spawned of¡ªonce a spawn of my own¡ªmay have denied himself the timelessness many of you bear, but it seems that choice is not to matter, in the end. Not for either of me, at least. The Pristine¡¯s reactor has ruptured. By now we have all suffered a lethal dose of radiation. Even if you were to send life boats over, this vessel and its crew are lost. I, then, offer you a choice, Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°Issik, I...I¡¯m very sorry. It¡¯s not a pleasant way to go, that,¡± I acknowledged, once more feeling the same sort of powerless dread I had felt in my discussion with Xavier, if to a lesser extent as I was not as close with Harr/Issik.


    ¡°So I¡¯m told. Ergo my offering of choice. I¡¯ll be blunt, so as not to mince words. With my life forfeit, I am¡ªand we of the Pristine are¡ªwilling to die continuing to fight this fight as we have been, until the lights go out, either aboard this vessel or in my head. That¡¯s one option. The other...well you want this world, yes? But I cannot imagine you want the stronghold of the traitorkin to remain on it once you have it, nor that you could consider the world taken while it yet stands. To die within the flames of as Holy and Consecrated a vessel such as this, as it snuffs out the darkness of a world below, I believe is an ending Jack Harr would welcome. And I imagine it is far less torturous an end than this poisoning of ours.¡±


    ¡°It would be quicker, yes, much more so,¡± I agreed, biting my lip afterward. ¡°I cannot tell you how to die, Issik, only what to die for. You and the crew of the Pristine should make your own choices, something that will satisfy your duty to the Emperor.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you and Harr are so annoyingly faithful at times,¡± Issik drawled. Indeed, he was not faithful or loyal like his alter-ego, but he was useful all the same. ¡°Do you not have the spine, as Commissar or Inquisitor, to define the nature of my death, Blackgar?¡±


    A more single-minded Commissar or Inquisitor may have grilled the traitorous alter-ego of Harr¡¯s for such a comment, but I knew he was only trying to get me to kill him. I was speaking to a dead man, and he was only asking me which enemies he should take with him. ¡°The fortress below, then. It¡¯s priority one. The morale shock alone would win this battle for us, to say nothing of the firepower and logistical strength it would deny the enemy.¡±


    ¡°Then so it shall be. I ask three things of you, then, Inquisitor. The first is that I would like to speak with my wife¡ªhis wife. She and I have not spoken before, and she is owed this, I think. The second thing I ask of you, Inquisitor, is to take care of her. I do not necessarily mean sexually, though she is an insatiable force to be reckoned with in bed, but see to it that she lives a life meaningful and fulfilling to her. Her smiles hide a darkness the likes of which I imagine only you have laid eyes upon before, as is your remit. Jack Harr, in his naivete, never could comprehend or recognize the presence of that darkness, but I can see the dim shadows repressed by the overpowering brightness of her ego. When that ego falters, she may waver. Be there for her when she does,¡± Issik explained.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to both such requests, Issik,¡± I assured him. ¡°Your third?¡±


    Issik sighed, paused, and then let loose a pained laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t have a frigging clue who I¡¯m dying against, Inquisitor. I¡¯m fighting your battle and Throne-willing I¡¯m winning it for you. I¡¯m dying in your battle, for you, but I don¡¯t have any clue who¡¯s killing me. It¡¯s not right. I think you know it¡¯s not right. Your Inquisition hides in secrecy, and its soldiers are told only where to point their firearms and when to shoot. Those of us that bleed for you like this deserve better. We deserve to know the name of the enemy that puts us down, that we may curse them in the afterlife. We deserve to know what it¡¯s all for.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do,¡± I agreed, solemnly. The Inquisition may disagree. The Commissariat may disagree. And any fresh-blooded newly-decorated Commissar may disagree. But anyone who has watched men die for their cause for a living knows better. ¡°His name is Valeran Mortoc. He is an enemy of all Ixaniad, and all Mankind.¡±


    ¡°Well then,¡± he answered. ¡°For all Mankind, you find this piece of shit Valeran and you rip his throat out, Inquisitor. That¡¯s my third request.¡±


    ¡°And it is one I am willing to die to fulfill, as you have,¡± I replied. ¡°Shall I give you to your wife?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please. Inquisitor Blackgar...you are not like the others of your kind, those that I once called foe. You are better than they are. You are human,¡± he told me.


    ¡°And I pray that humanity of mine is enough to see this damnable war through,¡± I replied. ¡°Thank you, Vilk Issik. You have served me well. And the Throne, too, much as it may irk you to have done so.¡±


    ¡°Oh, had we the time for debate, I¡¯d point out that I¡¯ve always wanted to serve the Throne, just not in your Imperium, and not with such zealotry. There are layers to us traitors, you see. We are not all so hateful of everything as your Inquisition believes,¡± Issik snarked. ¡°My wife?¡±


    ¡°Yes, right away,¡± I agreed, and then removed my vox bud from my ear while waving Bliss over to me.


    ¡°Callant?¡± she asked as she neared. I said nothing, and instead extended my hand toward her, the vox bud in its palm. She looked at it, then back to me, and then back to it before taking it and putting it into one of her own ears. ¡°This is Bliss Carmichael, who am I speaking to?¡± she began, and I stepped away from her to give her some space. As the ensuing conversation unfolded, Bliss revealed a full spectrum of emotions, from surprise to disbelief to anger, as she spoke with Vilk Issik for the first time. Then again into disbelief and a sense of groundlessness as Issik¡¯s/Harr¡¯s fate was revealed to her.


    In time, and in sorrow, she moved to the frontal viewport of the bridge, where she and I beheld the Pristine make its plunge into New Cealis¡¯s atmosphere. She stayed on the line with Issik for the entirety of its journey, for the remainder of his life. She was in tears the whole time. I had never seen her or any of my retinue so broken before. No, rage had consumed us in times of loss. No doubt rage would find purchase in her eventually, too, but her immediate reaction was of sorrow. Only when the line went dead, and Vilk Issik vanished into a fireball on the planet¡¯s surface, did she spend a fractional moment to try to compose herself of her anguish. But that was futile, and her sadness consumed her despite her efforts, forcing her from the bridge without another word spoken to me or anyone else.


    But, as Issik and I knew, nuclear interplanetary suicide was a damned decisive way of ending a battle. Ground forces belonging to the enemy vanished into the very inferno that had claimed Bliss¡¯s husband, and the space theater fell before our voidweapons in the ensuing disarray.


    New Cealis was won. But the losses were steadily mounting for us all.

 Chapter 83 - Vow

    It took some doing, after disintegrating the Shatter Corps¡¯ defenses on New Cealis, to find Bliss again. She had not excused herself to her room, nor to any immediate temples within the Coldbreed. Indeed, it began to seem as though it might be impossible to find my own Stealth operative if she did not wish to be found. It was only by happenstance that I came upon her, and not even via the searching of my mind, though I was trying in that regard. But as I scoured the many halls of my vessel, I eventually caught a glimpse of a backside which, I am mildly ashamed to say, could only have been hers, for the eye-catching appeal of her figure. I paused a moment after having spied her out of the corner of my view, reflecting on how she had once told me that she only showed herself if she wanted to be seen. I wondered if that was true even now.


    In any case, I found her in what at first looked to be a closet or facilities cabinet, but was in fact an unmarked and unlit room aboard my vessel. Leave it to the Callidus, I suppose, to find such a thing in the first place. Unmapped or not, this room did have its own viewport to the outside void, and within that void was a view of New Cealis. Bliss looked upon the world in relatable melancholy. I assumed she sensed my presence, but if she did she had not evidenced it. That was, however, until I stepped in to the room with her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you saw that of me,¡± she muttered as I neared, still facing the viewport. ¡°What sort of an assassin is brought to tears? What sort of Inquisitor falls to her knees and sobs for a Guardsman?¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t just a Guardsman,¡± I acknowledged, to which Bliss agreed with me in a pained nod.


    ¡°Still, I am supposed to be an Inquisitor. Our kind can¡¯t cry, it¡¯s not fitting,¡± she suggested, a faint quiver on her voice. I wondered how many tears yet streamed down her face, hidden from me as it was.


    ¡°Just the opposite, Bliss: You¡¯re an Inquisitor. You can damn well do whatever you need to and no one has any right to condemn you for it,¡± I replied, taking another step closer to her.


    ¡°You would, if you were any less the man you are,¡± she answered. ¡°Thank you. But there¡¯s just¡­so much more frigged up about it all.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do know!¡± she shouted, and at last turned to me. Indeed, her face remained wet from her tears. And while I sensed the tiniest bit of anger harbored toward me, it was not nearly great enough to be acted upon. ¡°You knew about Issik. The whole time.¡±


    ¡°And you were glad it was a secret I kept from you,¡± I reminded her. She had once tried to tease Harr¡¯s secret from me, in a test of my character. I had seen through her test at the time, which to me devalued its relevancy, but I remained steadfast in keeping Harr¡¯s liberties to himself.


    ¡°Yes, I was. But I just wish,¡± she started, but shook her head and dismissed her own sentence. ¡°Blessed are they who die for the Emperor, hm?¡± I nodded. ¡°Are we cursed then? Cursed to live and watch all others receive a blessing not meant for us?¡±


    ¡°That is as the heretic wanted for us. But we made the choice to deny ourselves that blessing, and can renege upon that decision at any time,¡± I suggested. Absalom¡¯s cure to his own machinations remained in the hands of the Inquisition, and was readily available to any that wanted it. ¡°Bliss,¡± I began, and took another step toward her, now close enough to put my hands on the sides of her arms, holding her ahead of me. ¡°Put aside all the theologies and the ideologies and the shoulds and everything else. You have lost far too much in this war, and I am so, so sorry,¡± I told her. She nodded and tried to respond, perhaps to thank me for the compassion, but her composure broke before she could. Instead, she fell forward against me, sobbing once more, and I embraced her and rolled my head against her own, holding her close while a river poured over my shoulder.


    I will admit, I intended to try to think about how to help her, but in that moment all I could think about was simply how heavy she was to hold. Mirena had once told me that Bliss was unusually heavy for her size, having wrestled our local Callidus Assassin on more than one occasion. (And losing on each attempt; a rarity for my chief Logistics officer.) Were I without such a firsthand account, I may have thought Bliss was forcibly pushing against me, as to hold her upright proved quite the feat. I surmised her increased mass was another oddity among a great list appended to her existence on account of the Temple, perhaps worthy of investigation at a later time, but not in such an intimate, vulnerable moment as this.


    Instead, I struggled to hold her up in silence for as long as I could, until at last I loosed a grunt in the process. My struggle, then vocalized, prompted Bliss to stand upright of her own accord, no longer leaning on me for support. ¡°Oh. Right,¡± she whispered to herself, signaling she was aware of the situation.


    ¡°I¡¯ll want to ask of that later,¡± I warned her.


    ¡°It¡¯s not polite to ask a girl her weight,¡± she chided me, managing a smirk through a still-sniffling face.


    ¡°Well there¡¯s a long record of me insulting you,¡± I offered with a grin of my own.


    ¡°Very true!¡± she agreed, blurting out a laugh. ¡°It¡¯s almost as long as your record of being kind and considerate to me,¡± she suggested, now raising a hand to my right arm, half-holding me as I had done for her. ¡°I¡¯m so very nearly alone in this cold, desolate universe. I would be, Callant Blackgar, had I not you to spend time with. Thank you.¡±


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    ¡°There are others like us. Timeless,¡± I reminded her.


    ¡°There are in that regard, yes. But it is not that accursed similarity of ours I refer to,¡± she admitted. ¡°No, I am alone, save for you, without those I trust. Without those I like. Without those I¡­,¡± she began, but her voice trailed off. I had a good idea of what she meant to say, though, as where her voice faltered her eyes instead locked with my own.


    ¡°Love,¡± I finished for her, raising the arm she held such that my hand then held her face in its palm. She lowered her head into that grasp, at ease. ¡°Was Caliman right? Am I fostering a harem of my own, here?¡±


    Bliss grinned, but did not immediately reply. Instead, she first stepped even closer to me, that our bodies touched from our chests down to our waists, and in that regard she also stepped a leg between my own. ¡°Do you love Silas Hager?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Luther?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Zha?¡±


    ¡°Bliss, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°You love us all, in your retinue. Is it any surprise, then, that we love you in return?¡± Bliss smiled. ¡°I didn¡¯t know it at first, because I wasn¡¯t by your side, then, as often as I have been these past few years. But you don¡¯t lead soldiers onto the battlefield, Callant. You lead people you¡¯ve come to love. And sometimes you lose them, as I have,¡± she acknowledged.


    I felt a tear roll down my cheek, then, though I had a feeling it was far from the only one. ¡°It¡¯s been slower, more gradual, their passing, than that of the 8<sup>th</sup>¡¯s. But every one hurts just as much, if not more,¡± I admitted as Bliss raised each of her hands to coddle my head. ¡°You see? We Inquisitors can be brought to tears. It¡¯s only human. Though I admit, there are few¡ªmerely Lucene, Mirena, and Silas¡ªthat have seen this from me.¡±


    ¡°So you, too, wear the same fa?ade I do to spare others of our weakness,¡± she sighed.


    I shook my head. ¡°It is not weakness, this sense of loss. It¡¯s clarity. Clarity that our fight must be fought, in the name of all those who lost their lives giving us the chance to fight it. There was a girl, just a little kid, on Hestia Majoris. They butchered her, those heretics, among many others in silencing my former mentor. Val Eracian was her name. When I killed the last of that abhorrent quartet, I made sure he knew her name, and I have not since forgotten it. And when I kill Valeran Mortoc, her name, amidst all the others, will be on my mind as I deal the finishing blow. I will kill him for them, and the Emperor.¡±


    ¡°I will kill Mortoc,¡± Bliss whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, and she stepped away, ceasing our intimacy for the time being.


    ¡°I will kill Mortoc,¡± she repeated, closing her eyes in a wince, and tensing her hands into fists by her sides. ¡°I have made the vow to myself. To Jack. I will rip the Iron bastard limb from limb and shower myself in the gore of his brutal end,¡± she assured me, then opened her eyes, glaring into mine. ¡°Do not get in my way of this, Callant Blackgar. I don¡¯t want you to get hurt, and I don¡¯t want to hurt you. But I will be the one to kill Valeran Mortoc, and no other.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hang around and wait for you to finish him off, Bliss. If I see a shot that ends his life, I¡¯m taking it,¡± I promised her.


    ¡°No. You¡¯re not,¡± she asserted, furrowing her brow. ¡°I mean it, Callant. Do not get between me and him. I love you dearly, but I must end him. I owe that to Jack.¡±


    ¡°In this regard, my dear, Jack Harr is just a Guardsman, and our duty to Ixaniad and the Holy Imperium is worth more than honoring him,¡± I insisted, tensing my own fists. This was not where I expected the conversation to go when I first approached her. I wonder if she had anticipated this.


    ¡°Is this how it happens? How our Imperium so often wars with itself?¡± Bliss frowned, shaking her head. ¡°Two immovable ideologies, two uncompromising forces of nature, doomed to come to blows by their very design?¡±


    ¡°Quite likely,¡± I acknowledged.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to war with you, Callant,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. You don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But I will,¡± she affirmed, still staring me down. ¡°If you take Mortoc from me, I will never forgive you.¡±


    ¡°And I will have to live with that,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°If I let you.¡±


    I was not ready for that one, and must have shown it. I had no witty response, nor anything in my arsenal to seem nearly as imposing as Bliss Carmichael. Even so, my own tactical defeat in the conversation spurred her to concede a bit of ground herself, and again she stepped up to me. This time, however, while she again planted her hands on my head, she did so to pull my lips to hers, and it was in this heated exchange that she and I shared our first real kiss. As Vilk Issik had hinted at, and as her beatific visage did not betray, she proved to be quite lovely when she was not murderously terrifying.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispered after a few moments of sucking my lungs dry. ¡°I¡­I won¡¯t¡­I shouldn¡¯t have¡­I will kill Mortoc. First. It is my responsibility to Jack to reach and slay Mortoc, and my responsibility to you to do so before you can. And I will. That way there¡¯ll be no bad blood between us and everything will be fine.¡±


    ¡°Work with me here, Bliss, and I would happily let you deal the finishing blow,¡± I insisted.


    ¡°Respectfully, Callant, and as much as I love you, I do not believe you know how best to use me. It¡¯s understandable; you are an Inquisitor, not an Assassinorum operative. I am not at my best on the front lines, as you have often wielded me. I am good there, yes, better than most; but I am better still elsewhere,¡± she explained. ¡°No, I will do this on my own. I will beat you to him on my own. And I will kill him on my own. Mortoc is owed to Jack, not to Val Eracian. That debt is not one you can or should need to fulfill.¡±


    I had so much more to say to her. More to say on this matter itself, to try to coerce her to reason and her duty to Ixaniad¡ªwhich I upheld. I had a plethora to say on the subject of Cronos, and the rationale and intentions of Lord van der Skar and the late Caliman. Had I screwed up, in that regard? She and I were meant to be close allies, not enemies, and this conversation seemed the first step down such a route. I also wanted to bring her up to speed on Ouranos, and all the other voidshit that circled around the bastard. But Bliss denied me all opportunities for further discussion with a single short, bittersweet kiss before stepping past me, leaving me in the solitary darkness of an unmarked, unknown room of my ship.

 Chapter 84 - Jaegetri

    As Lord van der Skar had warned me about some months ago, the Dawnshadow did not accompany my forces beyond New Cealis; the Inquisitorial Starfort remained firmly within the established boundaries of Ixaniad, not to be risked elsewhere. Much of Battlefleet Ixaniad stayed with it. But, as he had also predicted, Admiral Alejandro Batos elected to accompany my forces with a detachment of the primary fleet of his command. Indeed, it seemed Batos had not forgotten our interactions surrounding the Hestia Majoris affair, and though he had cleared himself of wrongdoing in the events that had killed Hans Okustin, my Interrogator at the time, Batos appeared eager to win over more of my favor. And who could blame him; an aspirational Admiral would love to have an Inquisitorial operative on their side when it came time to hand out promotions within the Battlefleet.


    But Lord van der Skar had not given me a full picture of all the allies I would be taking with me beyond our borders. Sergeant Santinus Astal, his squadron of Brothers, and two other Squads of Red Hunters¡ªthe 3<sup>rd</sup> and 4<sup>th</sup> Tactical Squads of the 3<sup>rd</sup> Company¡ªwere put under my charge as well, at van der Skar¡¯s orders. I found I had much to learn from Astal, which was no surprise to me. For his part, he at least seemed to enjoy my company as well.


    So, with Inquisitorial, Astartes, and Sector forces combined as one, we set out beyond Ixaniad¡¯s borders together, into uncharted, enemy territory, with one goal in mind: Jaegetri, the world once hinted at being the operating hub for the Shatter Corps, and more importantly, the alleged location of Valeran Mortoc.


    Our journey was, all things considered, short¡ªwe arrived at Jaegetri two weeks after departing from New Cealis. Never again did I see Bliss Carmichael, since our argument shortly after the battle at New Cealis. From my perspective, she may as well have changed ships, and in fact very well may have; not only did I never physically see her, but I also never sensed her while reaching out with my mind, and I did look on more than one occasion in that way. It seemed, indeed, that we were entering into the final stages of this war without my best Agent by my side. I was not particularly motivated by this loss, which may have been her point. Would it have been better, I wondered, to let the Callidus Assassin do her thing? Throne knows she probably could have; average operatives of her Temple had taken out far greater targets in the past than a Traitor Marine Captain, and she was far from average. Even so, I found myself worried about her¡ªpartially for her, but mostly worried about the effect losing her would incur on my ability to wage this war and any other that I would fight after it. She was too valuable to be squandered on Jaegetri for nothing, and as she was beyond my oversight, I did not know of her fate.


    In any event, upon our arrival at Jaegetri, we found the world besieged by familiar faces: vessels belonging to the VI<sup>th</sup> Legion, the Space Wolves, were currently engaged in orbit with those of the IV<sup>th</sup>, aka the Iron Warriors. It had been some time since my first meeting with the Wolves during the Phaenonite affair over Amnes Minoris; I had almost forgotten them, but I had not forgotten their fangs nor their bitter promise to us. They would fight against the Iron Warriors, they said, but they made it clear they would not fight alongside us. I did not know whether I should have expected this war to devolve into a three-way-brawl or if it simply meant the Iron Warriors had two independent fronts to handle on their own. I assumed the latter, but upon seeing the Wolves again, I knew I should also begin to prepare for a battle on two fronts, if it came.


    But for now that was not the battle before us. Instead, we found ourselves engaged with the last hurrah of a fleet of vessels better at sieging than surviving on defense. Though we had been battered on our journey across Ixaniad to reach Jaegetri, I was not much concerned with the void theatre anymore; experience had shaped my resolve and familiarity with the ebb and flow of its combat, and so, too, were much of my retinue made veterans of void combat across this terrible campaign of ours.


    As evidence of some of that experience, in conversations with Santinus Astal about the possibility of teleportarium assaults, he was adamant it was something I should prepare for. So, I did. Thus far the Iron Warriors had been deploying their heaviest forces, via boarding torpedoes, in two locations, primarily: command bridges and engineering bays, to capture and to cripple, respectively. On approach to Jaegetri, I, therefore, disseminated many of the Red Hunters and Sisters of Battle at my command throughout the fleet to both such locations on each capital ship of outwardly-apparent strategic importance, in anticipation of further such boardings, by torpedo or teleportarium.


    And I was glad I did, as when I sensed an unfamiliar disturbance in the Warp amidst our voidbattle in orbit over Jaegetri, I beamed out a single, two-word command to my allies: +Intrusion. Kill.+ Moments later, in a flash of profane light and an unholy gasp as reality collapsed in upon itself, four Iron Warriors found themselves almost instantaneously slain upon the deck of the Coldbreed, a hail of Bolter fire from all sides reminding them of the holy strength of faith they had turned their backs on. Their assault lasted single-digits of seconds, and while deafening due to the overwhelming amount of Bolter fire involved, sufficed only to advance one or two steps beyond their initial intrusion before all fell to their knees and, shortly thereafter, their faces. The sound of munitions being reloaded and restocked was all that followed in the moments immediately after, beyond which the command bridge returned to its regular duties as the battle waged on. ¡°Varnus. They¡¯re yours. Disassemble them, and see to the reconsecration of this deck when this battle is won,¡± I told my mechanical friend.


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    ¡°It shall please the Omnissiah to do so, Inquisitor,¡± he agreed, and silently ordered some of his servitors and fellow admechs to move the traitorous Marines off the bridge.


    +Sergeant Astal. Varnus. Lucene. Ms. Trantos. With me,+ I commanded them all, stepping forward up to a viewport I had stood at far too often as of late. Astal was the first by my side, which in hindsight should not have been surprising, but I was quite used to the first being Lucene.


    ¡°Inquisitor?¡± Astal asked me when the group arrived behind me.


    ¡°We are here to execute a rather arrogant assault,¡± I began, overlooking the orange pile of rocks that was Jaegetri. In doing so, I witnessed the ships of the Space Wolves breaking off, leaving us to fend against those of the Iron Warriors ourselves. The Wolves intended to make landfall first, when they were no longer engaged with voidships of the Iron Warriors. We would find Wolves down there, as we found them up here. ¡°When this battle in the void ends, the real one shall begin. On the ground, on that blasted heap of worthless dust and gravel. In its cities of profane worship, or, similarly heretical, overt defiance. It is there that our mettle shall be tested. And in our arrogance, we will inevitably lose lives for the cause of positively identifying, and subsequently terminating, a single man. This is a war of assassination. We go to the ground, we find Mortoc, we kill him, and then we leave. There is nothing else of value here on Jaegetri.¡±


    ¡°You intend to go down there yourself, don¡¯t you, Cal?¡± Lucene asked. ¡°Surely you understand how foolish that is.¡±


    ¡°All too well, yes. There¡¯s no reason for me to be down there. And, yet, that lack thereof does in turn provide every reason. Valeran Mortoc has, thus far, wanted me alive. This means that wherever I am, he will hit a little less hard. Pulling his punches, so to speak,¡± I explained. ¡°I shall place myself on the front lines, then.¡±


    ¡°An Inquisitor should not be on the front lines,¡± Astal noted.


    ¡°Not usually, no. But the front lines are unlikely to find Mortoc. Their only job will be to secure whatever beachhead we initially find purchase of on Jaegetri. If my presence amidst their ranks will ease the task of that security, then I shall be there,¡± I responded. ¡°I expect you will join me there, Lucene.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Cal,¡± she replied, repressing something of a giggle from behind her Sabbat helm. I had known her too long to miss the hidden emotional levity within her responses, though she so often appeared composed and resolute.


    ¡°Good. That will help. But there will be other objectives of import that we must identify and destroy. Varnus, that is where you will come in, joined by Ms. Trantos. Find the war machines that most threaten our troops, find the surfaceside defense batteries and capital installations, and relay such information across the fleet and to the ground. Sergeant Astal and Tactical-1 should be your points of contact for disseminating such information. Astal, the Red Hunters must prioritize the more-hardened of these installations as they can. I think it is not unlikely you may find Mortoc in one of them, anyway,¡± I explained further. Astal, Varnus, and Zha each nodded with their orders, but I had more for the latter. ¡°Ms. Trantos, while the battle on the surface rages on, I want you to prepare an Exterminatus. We have no use for this world once we have confirmed Mortoc¡¯s death, and I would not leave its fortresses in the open for any aspiring warlord to come and claim for themselves. No, better to see Jaegetri and its villainous heresies removed from all memory in one fell swoop.¡±


    ¡°And the Wolves?¡± Zha asked then, perhaps responding to the fact that the first of their drop pods began to fall upon the world below.


    ¡°Consider us neutral, for now. Pay them any courtesy they are owed, and make it clear to them that we intend to destroy this world when we are done with it. Let them clear themselves off the world on their own. But do not make the mistake of considering them our allies. They are not,¡± I answered. ¡°Show them no sign of weakness, as they may seek to take a stab at the Inquisition if they can get away with it undetected, such as by killing us all here and making it look as though the Iron Warriors were to blame. If your vessels are approached, deny any boarding from them. If your vessels are fired upon, return fire with maximum prejudice. Please relay these rules of engagement with Alejandro Batos at your earliest convenience.¡±


    ¡°I shall,¡± Zha assured me.


    ¡°And what of myself, and the faithful of the Omnissiah?¡± Varnus asked me.


    ¡°We will have many fronts, Varnus. As explained, I want you up here, with Ms. Trantos, identifying key strike targets and eliminating any that a lance battery can take care of. But as for your own, assign them as you see fit. Assist the Red Hunters with their equipment and Machine Spirits as needed, or coordinate with Tactical-1 to ensure the readiness of our shock assaults. I do not imagine your associates will need to busy themselves with Alejandro¡¯s infantry, as they should be self-sufficient,¡± I acknowledged. Alejando Batos had brought with him approximately eighty-thousand soldiers of the Astra Militarum, to be deployed on any surfaceworld that demanded their bulk numbers. Jaegetri would be so-demanding. I expected a few techpriests among their ranks, sanctifying their armaments, and perhaps even a Commissar of their own.


    Moments after answering Varnus¡¯s question, I had a temporarily-pleasing view of a heretic vessel erupting into flames. I say ¡®temporarily-pleasing¡¯ because though the vessel did rupture and shatter into a thousand baleful pieces, a non-negligible assault of drop pods fell upon the world below from its hull. The Iron Warriors were redeploying themselves unto their home turf, saving any traitor Astartes they could for the coming battle, rather than losing them in void combat. Mortoc knew this was a resource game; I had seen that knowledge in his fighting forces since the invasion of New Cealis. And every last resource available to him on Jaegetri would be squeezed to the extreme. Taking any and every inch from him, here, would involve a bloodbath. ¡°You all have your marching orders,¡± I declared shortly after considering the above. ¡°I expect we¡¯ll be ready for landfall soon. Best to hit the enemy as quickly and relentlessly as we can, to minimize their ability to prepare for us. So do prepare yourselves for planetary insertion. The Emperor protects.¡±

 Chapter 85 - Entrenched

    How do you besiege a world owned by¡ªself-proclaimed¡ªsiege masters?


    Bloodily.


    But such is our duty. And it would be done, for the Glory of the Imperium, and the Golden Throne.


    In terms of actual answers to that question, the first step is to find a location capable of housing an army, just in terms of sheer open landmass. While I am sure the Iron Warriors would have loved to have covered the surface of the world in their namesake or otherwise corrupted everything into total inhospitability, Jaegetri had not yet reached such a point, and we were able to identify and deploy upon an empty, orange, rocky desert about seventy kilometers from any major objective.


    Choosing deployment distance¡ªin relation to objectives¡ªis its own problem. Too close, and anti-infantry munitions eat you alive, and we did not possess more men than they possessed bullets. But deploy too far, and artillery or¡ªworse¡ªballistic missiles will see your entire operation vaporized in the whistle of overhead death. There is a sweetspot, then, where you accept the presence of some lesser artillery being wielded against you so long as you can set up a forward operating hub and get some logistical measures rolling. Yes, people will die in that process. But provided the enemy is unwilling to blow themselves to hell with their own weaponry, the mission¡ªwhatever it is¡ªcan proceed. And ours did.


    None of this really applies if you are an Angel, however. The Astartes¡ªours and those of the Space Wolves¡ªdeployed directly upon their immediate targets, taking heavier fire for it, but eliminating high priority entities almost immediately. There are those Astartes who may question why they do not deploy on the front lines with the common man, and there are certainly those front liners who wonder the same. The answer should be self-evident: they are simply better wielded elsewhere. The purpose of dividing our forces in such a manner was, of course, to force the enemy to respond in as many places as possible; they could not ignore an Astartes insertion, nor could they allow our front lines to push in and take key objectives themselves. As before, a game of resource management, and sadly one Valeran Mortoc appeared to know all too well.


    Of course, that demanded our front lines engage the threat of making progress against the foe. Which, in turn, required a leader of some renown to motivate, encourage, and¡ªat times¡ªthreaten men into advancing against a horrendous enemy.


    Thankfully, this leader was not me.


    While I joined the front lines of the Astra Militarum as deployed by Admiral Alejandro Batos, I did not step back into my Commissarial role¡ªthough I had considered it. In fact, I almost wanted to. Almost. The thought had occurred to me that I might honor Lord Inquisitor Caliman¡¯s memory by playing the part of a Commissar again. But in any event, I did not have to; the task fell to Commissar Matvii Goryunov, who was, as it turned out, a Vostroyan. It was a breath of fresh air to meet a loyalist Vostroyan, as opposed to the heretic one I had killed on Hestia Majoris some years ago. Loyalist, and competent, praise the Throne! Any ill will I may have harbored for Vostroya¡ªwhich was not much; I had not then made an enemy of the world for the actions of the man and I never held much of a grudge since¡ªwas easily dashed in my first meeting with Goryunov. We met only briefly, but it was enough of a first impression to assuage any worries I may have had about the larger operation or his role in it. He did not know or learn much about me, then, other than that I was an Inquisitor¡ªmore to the point, he did not learn of my actions on Hestia Majoris. I wondered if he would have known about Sigird, or would have cared¡ªpositively or negatively¡ªthat I had killed a high-born of his world.


    Like the Sororitas that trailed behind me in the trenches and mire that was the forward operating base of our assault, Goryunov did question my need to be present on the front lines. I am sure he was worried about the psychological effect an Inquisitor¡¯s presence would have on his men¡ªI would have been so-concerned, likewise, were I in his boots. And more than that, it was far from safe for me to be here. He made that very clear, though the hammering of artillery shells and the slicing of lasfire overhead made it obvious enough as it was. Even so, there was a pragmatic side to Goryunov¡¯s concern as well, that reminded him that I was here now, and extraorbital extraction was unlikely in the middle of an active warzone. He and I could only move forward with my presence, and he was in no position to criticize or chastise an Inquisitor.


    Instead, I was a headache he would have to put up with. While not common, an Inquisitor¡¯s presence was a headache many Commissars had needed to endure in active duty, myself included¡ªthough that was, by now, a bygone era. It was amusing, to say the least, to be that headache for a change.


    ***


    Progress in the battle was slow, though for their part, I must make note that the front I was on was only intended to maintain our logistical hub of operations. This front was not one of conquest, even if it was still met with similar and constant opposition. In that regard, the elimination of that opposition was slow. I somewhat expected that, as the Iron Warriors¡ªwhile great aggressors and while certainly not the defenders that their most-loathed loyalist counterparts were¡ªwere undeniably experts in the notion of siege warfare.


    I spent my first night on Jaegetri in a command tent, but spent subsequent evenings in the trenches. Goryunov ever reminded me of the inherent danger therein, and his concerns were drowned out by those of Lucene, and both of them were right to voice those concerns (which was the most frustrating part), but, frankly, I found some small comfort in the servitor-dug hallways through the muddied ground. I had lived my life in this, once. It almost felt like home.


    Almost.


    The thought of ¡®home¡¯ made me wonder how I would feel were I on Pyrras-3 again. I had not seen the world in some centuries; would I even recognize it? Would I want to be there, were I ever to return? Whimsical thoughts for an Inquisitor to contemplate when he was not in a warzone. As it was, I returned to studying surveys of the planet as provided to me by an auspex tablet in my hands. The readings themselves were provided by the Augur Assault Scanners of the Coldbreed far above, and in turn that served as a good reminder that my fellows aboard were still safe; or, as safe as one could be while orbiting a hostile world and staring down bloodthirsty, savage Wolves, anyway.


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    In any event, I saw, on the auspex, that Galen was making good headway against the Iron Warriors¡¯ strongholds. One may have expected this from a Knight, but in comparison to his earlier advances on lesser worlds, his progress on Jaegetri seemed as a crawl. It was progress, but it was hard to tell if he was slowing our opponents down more than they were inhibiting his advance. Meanwhile, our deep strike teams¡ªbeing the Red Hunters¡ªwere meeting what seemed to be the heaviest opposition, but that was also highly anticipated and somewhat by design. Our surgical strike teams¡ªbeing the Tempestus Scions under Silas and Luther (Harakoni being Scions themselves)¡ªwere quickly and quietly eliminating what they could, but quietude was not long for any inch of this world. They would soon find themselves locked down in an engagement of their own.


    After contemplating the battles Silas and Luther were likely soon to face, I spoke, loudly, ¡°Are you going to stand there and gawk all day or do you have something to say?¡± I had been sitting on some munitions boxes¡ªempty; I had no inclination to stand in the way of the Guard¡¯s duty¡ªon my own for a time, while my Sisters provided assistance and operational support to the logistics within the trenches. Lucene kept herself nearby, of course, but even she left me to my devices while I read the auspex reports. I was alone for some while, until eventually a Guardsman stepped by my position. It would have been wrong to say they stepped up to me; they stood perhaps five meters away, eyeing me with some curiosity and, as I found at the edge of their mind, some contempt.


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­apologies, Inquisitor. No, it wouldn¡¯t be right for me to say,¡± the Guardsman admitted, sheepishly, and then tried to find it within herself to step away. But she could not. Curiosity, and remaining contempt, kept her still. Without probing deeper into her mind, it was impossible for me to tell where she was from, and I had not asked¡ªfor lack of interest¡ªwhich regiment(s) served Goryunov; they were not necessarily, and did not appear, Vostroyan as he was. But this woman was as nondescript as could be; fair of skin¡ªthough of a deeper hue than the pale Pyrran of my own¡ªbrown of hair, and blue of eyes. The rest was covered by the usual garments and equipment of the Militarum, and she bore a lasrifle on her back, the strap reaching over and around her right shoulder, which she gripped with white-knuckled tightness, likely from the stress of standing before an Inquisitor.


    ¡°If it wouldn¡¯t be right for you to say, why are you thinking it?¡± I asked, and at last looked up from my auspex tablet, meeting her eyes with my own, singular. She said nothing, but I felt her thoughts jumble into a mess. Still, the contempt remained. Why was this Inquisitor here, and doing nothing to help us at that? was the unspoken question. I had known some of my ilk that would have gladly shot a Guardsman¡ªor condemned a squad to death likewise¡ªwere they to be made privy of such a thought. Was it fear, then, that kept this Guardsman¡¯s tongue? Or was it respect? I sensed, admittedly, the latter. But were it either, my approach would have been the same: I reached for the Boltpistol holstered on my backside, not unlike the one Goryunov owned and wielded, and tossed it between myself and the Guardsman, where it hit the ground with a low thud. ¡°Go on then. Speak your mind. I¡¯ve heard the thought already anyway.¡±


    The cruel joke, whether she realized it or not, was that I had not disarmed myself. I could just as easily wield the Boltpistol with my psykana, and the weapon had landed at such an orientation as to be aimed at her already. My mind needed only pull the trigger.


    ¡°Your Sisters help us, Inquisitor, but only in the auxiliary sense. There is a battle being fought here. There are people dying here. With all the mountainous respect you are due, Inquisitor, why are you and they not fighting it?¡± she managed to ask me.


    ¡°What is your name?¡±


    ¡°Alex Cortino, sir,¡± she reported at once. Her name grounded her, settled her thoughts.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fair question, Alex, and one I have asked of myself countless times in the months and years prior,¡± I admitted. That seemed to put her at ease. Indeed, she was ignorant of the Bolt weapon still aimed at her. ¡°I have lost¡­many¡­of my own to get here. Too many. Do you know why we are here, Alex Cortino? What we fight for?¡±


    ¡°We fight for the Emperor, sir. It is not my need to know the why,¡± she declared, adamant, and shook her head.


    ¡°Not your need?¡± I asked, scoffing a laugh. ¡°Your blood may yet meet the mud and grime of this world, Alex. Is that a price you are willing to meet, for a cause you do not understand in full?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she confirmed, stalwart and loyal.


    That earned another grunt of a laugh from me. ¡°Like drones of a hive,¡± I muttered to myself, though the possibility existed that she had heard me. ¡°You wish to see me fight, Alex? Rest assured, my battle looms yet. The best advice I can give you is not to be there when it arrives,¡± I told her. ¡°You fight for the Emperor, as do I. We may bleed at different times, but our blood, when spilled, will be for the same cause, Throne willing.¡±


    Her contempt had, at last, begun to diminish. But the curiosity had not, though it had changed in form. She had a mind, it seemed, for history. ¡°Inquisitor, I have no right to ask¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªand yet you will, I gather¡ª¡± I muttered.


    ¡°¡ªbut your eye, your arm; lost in battle?¡±


    I paused in a moment of reflection, then nodded. ¡°The eye was lost on a battlefield not unlike this one, though it was more of my own making. And its loss, indeed, perhaps my own doing,¡± I explained.


    ¡°And your arm?¡±


    I paused again, sighed, then shook my head. Alas, an Inquisitor could not be an entity one could ¡®capture,¡¯ as I had been. We could not be tortured, we could not be beaten. In the eyes of the common servants of the Imperium, we needed to be invincible, or something close. ¡°Surely you have some duties you need return to, Alex Cortino,¡± I invited her, and then demonstrated the lethality yet between us by willing my Boltpistol back into my grasp, its barrel pointed at her until she came to realize the depth of the danger she was still in before me. Only at that realization did I turn the weapon away from her, as evidence of her life having been spared, for the time being.


    ¡°O-of course, Inquisitor. My apologies for bothering you,¡± she insisted, and, unsure whether she should bow, make the Sign of the Aquila, or salute me, she haphazardly attempted all three, and for lack of arms, butchered the Aquila and the salute alike, but managed the bow. Good enough, I suppose.


    ¡°May the Emperor protect you and your squadmates, Alex Cortino. And may you live, serve, and die with honor and in glory,¡± I wished to her.


    ¡°Thank you, Inquisitor, and may the Emperor protect you and yours as well,¡± she returned, and then turned to leave, but looked back and acknowledged, ¡°I never got your name.¡±


    ¡°And you won¡¯t,¡± I replied, and then picked my auspex tablet up again and returned to reading its reports. Alex Cortino, rebuffed but unwilling to test her luck¡ªa wise decision¡ªchose, then, to leave me to my devices once more, and return to the fight as she was needed. I found myself, again, alone, listening to the searing of lasfire, the whizzing of enemy artillery, and the thundering bellows of ours. It was a concert of war that I thought myself quite familiar with, and so, for a time, I let it inhabit the background of my thoughts.


    That proved a grave error, as it left me neglectful of the artillery that landed¡ªand dutifully exploded¡ªa short distance behind me, blasting me from my seat and out from my consciousness. The final, dwindling reaches of my mind found my position, and the area surrounding it, peppered with artillery, and while my mental imagery abated at that point, the sounds remained. Sounds of the low, thudding approach of men larger than men, armored like tanks.

 Chapter 86 - Torment

    The memories were strained, and their recollection flittering at best. But when the bombardment came, I was far from the only one tossed around in the resulting shockwaves. Lucene, too, was thrown to one side of the trenches, but true to her resiliency and grit, she managed to retain consciousness for a time. Weakened, weary, and immobilized, but conscious. And through damaged red slits of her Sabbat-pattern helm, she got to witness the arrival of our attackers, even if she knew not how to describe them best.


    Great hulks of dim grey, adorned with stripes of yellow and black, jumped into smoldering trenches before her eyes. Their armor was twisted and tainted, with imagery she would rather have not borne witness to, but she refused to take her eyes from me even as they surrounded my limp form. These hulks seemed to communicate with one another in silence, turning to each other as one would in conversation, but no sounds rang out from beyond the internals of their horrifying shells. Some wielded conventional weaponry, others autocannons larger than even Lucene herself, and still others had what appeared to be missile pods on the shoulders of their carapaces. These, unbeknownst to Lucene, were Cataphractii Terminators, and among them the Tyrants, who wielded said-missiles and were likely responsible for the bombardment we had just faced.


    As one of these Cataphractii lifted me into their arms and made off with my body into the warzone from whence they had arrived, the others moved over to Lucene and her Sisters. It was then, despite her struggle and fight to survive, that Lucene succumbed to her trauma and blacked out at last.


    The next thing Lucene knew, she forcibly ripped out from her power armor, an almost-overwhelmingly painful experience as the cybernetics embedded between herself and her armor were ripped apart. She was set upon bare feet in the nude, and found herself briefly amazed that she had any strength to stand amidst such pain, but paused in that regard for only a moment before racing forward in an attempt to rip her assailant¡¯s head off. That was short lived, and the traitor-Astartes before her simply shoved her deeper into her cell, where she fell and landed hard enough to keep her down in sore, bloodied agony.


    ¡°Easy, brother, with the goods,¡± another Astartes chided the one that had handled her so. ¡°Especially with that one, for her size. Brother Mortoc says she alone might be worth a geneseed to Honsou, on Medrengard.¡±


    ¡°As you say, Brother. Stay down, runt,¡± the first Astartes commanded of her.


    ¡°Throne burn you all,¡± Lucene muttered to herself, shivering in pain, tensing up against the cold, plascrete floor of her cell, which was marked with the remains of what must have been centuries of occupants, if not millennia.


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t yet,¡± the Astartes laughed in reply, and then moved on to the next Sister. Lucene, still in agony, again lost consciousness, though this time to the sounds of her Sisters meeting similar fates as she herself as they were one-by-one ripped out of their armor.


    Lucene was not tortured further, in the traditional sense, though her stay in the dim cells under Jaegetri¡¯s surface was far from pleasant all the same. They let her suffer on the floor of her cell the first night after they had extracted her from her armor, but subsequently chained her appendages up and lifted her off the floor, to minimize her movement and prevent her from denying them whatever they wanted from her life. They also hooked up what was only barely passible for medicae equipment to keep her sustained with the bare minimum of life support, though she would have much rather gone without such minimums all the same.


    For another day, Lucene hung still in that position. She remained in torturous agony, but her resolve as a servant of the Throne persisted despite it. She bided her strength and her time, and wondered only when she would next have an opportunity to use both. Cal had endured worse than this, she reminded herself, oft thinking of the near-corpse of mine she had rescued in Abseradon. She still had both her eyes and arms, and intended to wield them to their full potential when first the opportunity arose. And arise it did, though not in the manner she anticipated.


    On the third day of her imprisonment, a Heretek came to visit, escorted by a handful of the baleful heretic Astartes. This Heretek differed in immediate appearance from those she had had the misfortune of knowing so far, in Holicar Espirov and Antonax Reth-07. Frankly, she thought, this emissary of the Dark Mechanicum was not too different in appearance from the loyal tech priests she had come to work with. However, the one telling icon of heresy was the multitude of bionics attached to the Heretek¡¯s face, and the green, inhuman, oozing blood that dripped out from their haphazardly-adapted forms.


    ¡°This one will suffice for the daemonculaba process,¡± the Heretek confirmed for the Astartes upon inspecting Lucene. ¡°Prepare her for exfiltration and transport. Leave the flesh intact; it is Medrengard¡¯s role to tamper with it as required. Next.¡± Lucene hoped that the Astartes would open her cell and unbind her then and there, but it seemed that, instead, they would wait for the inspection of her Sisters to conclude before moving them out at once.


    The Heretek never got the chance to inspect another of Lucene¡¯s Sisters. Instead, the group was interrupted by a blur of black, moving against and within the many darkened shadows of the chamber. How long had they been there? Lucene did not know, and likely the Astartes didn¡¯t either. The black blur revealed itself only in tossing out a small, grey dart, a skull emblazoned on its butt, which sailed across the room in a glimmer before silently embedding itself in the eye of an Astartes, piercing his helmet completely.


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    As a unit, the Astartes spun on their heels and lit up the room in a cacophony of Bolter fire, including the heretic that was now down an eye. The flare and flash of light revealed the shadow to be a terror Lucene had only seen once before, though it had then rescued her from the depths of the Dawnshadow and now seemed poised to rescue her again from the depths of Jaegetri. With each Bolt fired, the shadow closed the distance to the Astartes at an alarmingly inhuman rate, but it was in darkness that an Iron Warrior lost an arm while another outright lost their head. Then, finally, the poison of the dagger in the first Astartes¡¯s eye took hold of him, and he, too, fell to the ground, crashing down in a death satisfyingly thundering.


    ¡°Get me out of here!¡± the Heretek screeched. ¡°I¡¯m too valuable to Warsmith Honsou to die on a world like¡ª¡± but that was, Throne be praised, all the vile thing managed before an open palm met its bionic face. As its skull was flattened to half its prior thickness, many of those bionics protruded out from the rear of the Heretek¡¯s head, and he, too, fell to the ground. The Bolter fire continued, but it was for naught but to give the Sisters a fine display of the utter eradication of their captors. Bolts were bested by hand, by thrown dagger, and by esoteric blade itself; in that, not unlike the preferred means of Callant Blackgar.


    Only when the squad of Astartes and their miserable Heretek had fallen did the shadows return to silent peace at last. The humanoid shadow, barely perceptible to any of the Sisters¡ªLucene included¡ªand entirely unheard from for a time, collected its thrown, skull-adorned knives from the many, many Astartes they had felled. Then, and only then, did the shadow turn to Lucene¡¯s cell and kick the door open with apparent ease. ¡°He¡¯s not here,¡± Bliss muttered as she undid Lucene¡¯s bindings.


    ¡°No, they appear to have taken Cal elsewhere,¡± Lucene acknowledged in a nod.


    ¡°What?¡± Bliss asked. Lucene blinked twice, not expecting that response, and then realized that the ¡®he¡¯ that Bliss referred to was not their beloved Inquisitor.


    ¡°Who are you talking about?¡± Lucene asked in reply.


    Bliss stared at Lucene for a moment, and then her head shot a hair to the left. A fraction of a second later, two poison blades whipped through the air, coming to a rest after embedding themselves through the palms of a still-surviving Astartes, pinning his hands to the ground. For all his might, it appeared he could not overcome such bindings. And try he did, at least until a foot, black as night itself, punctured his chestplate and embedded itself in his sternum. ¡°Where is Valeran Mortoc?¡± Bliss asked, leaning over the Astartes as the traitor-Angel screamed in pain. Between the poison in his veins and the foot literally inside of his chest, it pleased Lucene that one such as he could suffer as much as he was.


    ¡°Frig you, loyalist shitstain!¡± the Astartes cursed back. ¡°Do you know what you¡¯ve done? What Honsou will do to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know or care who Honsou is. I¡¯ll kill him all the same if he swings by. Where. Is. Mortoc!¡± Bliss insisted, pushing her foot deeper inside the Astartes¡¯s chest and garnering greater screams for it.


    ¡°Oh what fun he¡¯ll be having with that Inquisitor of yours,¡± the Astartes jeered. ¡°You think it¡¯s dark down here? One can only imagine what¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where is he!¡± Bliss roared, ripping the helmet off her victim as bloodily and painfully as Lucene had been torn from her armor. Pleasant as the traitor¡¯s suffering may have been to sit and enjoy, Lucene had already begun tending to her Sisters while Bliss¡¯s interrogation continued.


    ¡°You think any of this matters?¡± the Astartes seethed out in bated breaths. ¡°Where you¡¯re going to send me, we¡¯ll all wind up eventually, and when we do, the horror that will befall every last one of you will be¡ªoh merciful gods, aaaaAAAAAAAA!¡± He succumbed to screeching in sheer anguish, as Bliss jammed one of her poisoned blades into the notches of the cybernetics at the back of the Astartes¡¯s head, perhaps even piercing his Black Carapace. He cried out in what must have been an agony more excruciating than anything and everything Lucene or Cal had ever endured combined, Lucene thought, but seemed perhaps to be just another day on the job for Bliss.


    ¡°It¡¯s one frigging question, and it¡¯ll earn you the freedom from your pathetic life when you answer it,¡± Bliss hissed, digging in deeper and deeper with her blade. ¡°Mortoc. Now!¡±


    The Astartes held out for some time, amazingly, despite such agony. But when one of his eyes outright burst from the stress of his own screaming and the once-Angel subsequently fell into whimpering pleadings for mercy, he began to tease out an answer to Bliss at last. ¡°Ci¡ªCi¡ªCitadel¡ªof Rust! They¡¯re in the Citadel of Rust! Please, end this, end me, please! It¡¯s-it¡¯s-it¡¯s not more than ten clicks east of here! Please!¡± But Bliss did not stop her torture, not then. It continued for moments still, until she was certain she had received an honest answer, during which time the Astartes¡¯s mind melted into incoherent babbling. By the time Bliss finally did kill him, by outright cleaving his head off with her bare hands, there may not have been much left to the traitor¡¯s brain at all.


    A moment later, Bliss removed herself from the traitor¡¯s body and collected her two blades embedded in his hands. She glanced once to Lucene, who was holding a Sister under the Sister¡¯s right shoulder. ¡°This prison is empty. I have killed its owners to get here. Your armaments are in an armory, which I¡¯ve opened, 200 feet down the hall, to the right. I do not know about your vox equipment. Good luck.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Lucene asked, panting from her own exhaustion as well as from the weight of her Sister. ¡°You¡¯re just going to leave?¡±


    ¡°I got what I came for. And I freed you in the process. You¡¯re welcome. Try to survive another day. Callant loves you. If he¡¯s still alive, I will save him. But killing Mortoc is my top priority,¡± Bliss answered, callous, cold, and no longer the blackened shadow she had entered as, but instead covered in the gore of her victims. She did not seem to mind the filth of their remains, or if she did, she did not evidence such discomfort. ¡°May the Emperor protect you all,¡± she finished, and did not wait for a response likewise. The maelstrom of murder that was Bliss Carmichael left as swiftly and abruptly as she had arrived, leaving Lucene and her Sisters to their own salvation.

 Chapter 87 - Apocrypha III

    In the words of Valeran Mortoc, Captain, Shatter Corps


    We have lost.


    The fleets of the enemy hang overhead, now. I look to the skies and see fire raining down from them, lights that set worlds ablaze. Where is the fleet that so confidently strode against the Inquisition starfort? What of the worlds conquered in their wake? Reclaimed? All of them? News to me, but it must be so, for our enemies are here¡ªdamnable Wolves included. I am sure they do not collude with the Inquisition, but that does little to ease the fact that both are shooting at us.


    We have won.


    The enemy is at our doorstep. They reveal themselves to us in plain view. Are they aware that we have the surface-to-void armaments to blow them all to hell? Would it change their approach to their siege even if they were? Unlikely. Their zeal is their weakness, their dogma their vulnerability. They make landfall and stand before our weapons. We will drown their forces in the flood of their own blood, and what survivors we can pluck from the murky depths will be fed to a greater calling on our homeworld.


    Scouts and scans tell me Inquisitor Blackgar himself has made landfall. He thinks, he must, that I will relent upon his position because I have wanted him alive. He neglects the ferocity a cornered beast may wield. I will take him alive, if I can, but he is a fool to think I will hit his encampment weaker for his presence. Or perhaps he is a sacrificial martyr, believing that I may choose to hit him harder, expending more resources on him than he deserves and weaken the defenses of my other fronts in the process. In either case, he has exposed a clear path to my victory on Jaegetri, and through that, a resurgence into Ixaniad.


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    He is an idiot, which is disappointing. I had thought to be facing down some tactical wisdom in the Inquisition. Perhaps my fleets had managed to kill such intelligence before they were wiped out, which is itself disappointing as well. I wonder if I can still fetch Lords Caliman or van der Skar from a later incursion.


    ***


    Inquisitor Callant Blackgar is laid before me now, unconscious. We had knocked him out so, but later drugged him to keep him down. He is¡­small. He is not so great an enemy to me as may intimidate the human foes he has yet faced. He is frail, weak. We have stripped him of his armor and armaments, though we have kept those instruments of war intact. For later.


    This is the one, then, that you have chosen for our climactic battle, oh Architect of Ends? He is the one you think worthy of being my match? He, you believe, threatens you as I do? We shall see. And we shall speak. The three of us, Ouranos, I will invite him to our fireside chats. Perhaps we may tear asunder this game of yours and fall upon you as one. I think it unlikely, as the Inquisitor is no doubt blinded by the very zeal that thrust him here to begin with. But I will extend the offer all the same, and should he accept it, well! Woe is you to have given him to me!


    He stopped us in Abseradon. He stopped us again on Amnes Minoris. For his part, and despite his diminutive stature and despite his reprehensible decision to set foot here on Jaegetri, he has proven a capable adversary for some years now. If nothing else, it will be good to be rid of him at last.


    The war for our world proceeds as expected. Our insurgents make decent headway, advancing upon our fortresses and eliminating our defenses. Or so they believe. But when he comes to, I will reveal the truth of the matter to Callant Blackgar. I will show him the depth of the ocean he has plunged himself and his men into. It is an ocean from which they will not see the light of the surface again. There is a chance that may break him, then and there, but I expect the Inquisitor to resist me even still. He has proven resilient thus far, after all; there is no reason to expect less of him now. He has always shown to have a bit of mettle to him. Iron, even.


    We will see how much Iron of his I need spill before he comes to heel.


    Iron Within, Iron Without!

 Chapter 88 - Confrontation

    I awoke in a start, and while my body was sore, I still attempted to shoot to my feet. Upon finding I could not for some reason, I thought to at least push myself to my hands and knees. Upon finding I could not, I found, at last, my augmetic arm missing and my birth-arm kept behind my back via bionic binding. I reached out with my mind to my surroundings, and found them quiet, which is to say, I likewise could not get too far with my psykana. Everything was muffled, obfuscated, blocked.


    My ears, however, were not, and as consequence from my awakening and ruffling about, I heard a low voice boom, ¡°Are you an idiot, Blackgar? That is what I have come to think of you. Why else would you have come down from the safety of the void to join us lowly surfacedwellers down here?¡±


    ¡°Who am I speaking with?¡± I sputtered out. I could not see the man that addressed me. My head was tilted away from him, and I otherwise rested on my front, unable to turn to face my speaker without breaking my neck in the process.


    ¡°Who do you think?¡± the voice returned, but I knew the question was rhetorical. I knew who addressed me now. The voice was followed by the stomping of loud, deep footfalls, the gasp of released air pressure wheezing out from each step, as the titanic man neared me. I was then pulled into the air at such a rate as would have induced whiplash had I not braced for it, after which I was sat down upon my rear. Astartes, sit him on his ass, Sigird had once commanded, and so it had been done.


    I still could not see the one who had manhandled me so, but I did get a better view of the room we were in. It was a great, if empty, chamber, lit up in orange light not unlike that which reflected off the dusty terrain of Jaegetri proper. Braziers held red flame atop their coals, suspended above and adorned with skulls affixed to the ends of spikes. Steel walls rose to a ceiling beyond view, branded with foul imagery and coated by the goldenrod and black stripes of the Iron Warriors. Before me sat a throne, far from Gold, instead cast in Iron, and far smaller than that which His Holiness undoubtedly ruled from upon Terra. A man, if he could be called that, came into view as I spied his throne.


    ¡°Mortoc,¡± I said, in part answering his rhetorical question.


    ¡°Blackgar,¡± he returned, taking a seat in his throne before me with a great, clanking thud not unlike the sound of his footsteps. He was, of course, large, far taller than me myself and greater in size than any of the Red Hunters who aided me. Larger than the Wolves I had met over Amnes Minoris. When I had finished recognizing his size for what it was, my eyes instead snapped to his armaments. A great powerfist in one hand, his right. His left wielded a powered great axe that was larger in size than Lucene, and no doubt many times as heavy, while a Combi-Bolter was embedded over his left¡¯s wrist. ¡°Like what you see?¡± he asked, his own eyes no doubt tracking the subtle movements of mine.


    ¡°Far from it,¡± I answered after a large, deep sigh, raising my head to look into the face of his helmet. Unlike the Cataphractii that had abducted me¡ªwhich at this point I had not seen; I note this in retrospect¡ªhis helmet was more modernized. Tusked and flat over the crown of his head. Behind his helmet, over his shoulders, a great cloak of interwoven chainmail draped down his backside. His shoulders, likewise, were adorned in the great hulks of ceramite one might expect of a Terminator; his right shoulder emblazoned with the tainted imagery of Chaos while the left yet bore imagery of the skull-like helmet that was once the calling card of a proud Legion; now it was something far more depraved, even if the imagery itself had not changed. ¡°You are appalling to look at,¡± I added after taking his full form in.


    ¡°Well you don¡¯t look so good yourself,¡± Mortoc grunted, and then set his greataxe upon the ground with another low thud before reaching his free hand to his helmet. With another gasp of pressurized air, he released it from his head, and set it down upon his lap, revealing a mass of flesh seeded with bionics across its mangled visage. ¡°Though beauty is perhaps in the eye of the beholder, and not much of a concern to my Brothers to begin with. Welcome to Jaegetri, Inquisitor. Enjoying your stay?¡±


    ¡°Why am I alive, Mortoc?¡± I asked instead.


    ¡°Why are you alive?¡± he agreed with a nod. ¡°Vanity, I suppose. I think you wished to chat, though I suspect your zealotry will deny wanting to share any air with me at all. I, however, have craved a word or two with the Hero of Thantalus.¡±


    ¡°No one calls me a hero for my work on Thantalus,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°Indeed not. The Hero of Abseradon, then!¡± Mortoc declared. ¡°Oh, my mistake, they don¡¯t hold you with much reverence there due to the Red Stain, do they? And your own Inquisition even said you were dead, killed as punishment for how you so butchered a Hive World. A lie, of course, among an oceanic cesspool of lies, but indeed, not something to be proud of, hm? What of Aerialon, hm? Of the many civilian casualties provided by your crusade against the Phaenonite?¡±


    ¡°I sense I¡¯ve struck a nerve,¡± I suggested with a grin.


    ¡°Ha! Yes, you have! Whether it was your intention or not, you¡¯ve done a mighty good job of getting in my way through the years,¡± Mortoc agreed.


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    ¡°It was a pleasure,¡± I nodded, smile widening.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it was. But now you¡¯re here, and all of that has ended. A one-armed, one-eyed man sitting before an Astartes in the full panoply of war. The odds do not seem very much in your favor, Callant Blackgar,¡± Mortoc laughed.


    ¡°You know, I once killed an Astartes with nothing more than my Rose¡ª¡± I began, but was quickly interrupted by a voice far meatier and heavier than my own.


    ¡°No, Blackgar, you killed a prototype, or as you call it, a puppet. Do not delude yourself on your own lies. Your lies cannot protect you here. Your beliefs cannot save you here. Your hopes and dreams die here. There is no victory for you, not on Jaegetri, not before my gaze.¡±


    ¡°You seem upset. Rattled your cage, have I, getting this far?¡± I offered.


    Mortoc seethed out something between a musing and a low growl, but otherwise did not take my bait. ¡°I shall show you the error of your ways, and the weakness of your ego soon, Blackgar. For now, however, having mentioned your faith I admit I wish to prod at it, which is in some small part why you are alive, but far from the main reason.¡±


    ¡°So there is a main reason, then,¡± I noted.


    Mortoc continued, unfazed by my incessant prodding in turn. ¡°What is it you think you worship, Callant Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°A question that can never arrive at any meaningful discourse with godless fools such as yourselves,¡± I answered.


    ¡°And whose fault, for the meaninglessness to follow, will it be?¡± Mortoc wondered. Then, more sternly, ¡°What do you think you worship, Inquisitor?¡±


    ¡°The one True God of all Mankind and all the universe. Yourself?¡± I asked, but was uncaring of any response Mortoc may have had. I did not expect one, either; I expected, instead, the very question that came instead.


    ¡°A God, and not a corpse?¡±


    ¡°You sinners always try that line,¡± I sighed. ¡°Need they be mutually exclusive?¡±


    ¡°Fair point.¡±


    ¡°Then you acknowledge The Emperor as God, then?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°A god, perhaps. Something more than man, certainly. But why worship this great and terrible other, Inquisitor? That I do not understand. Should one not strive to embolden and empower themselves to their own destinies?¡±


    ¡°The individual is liable to err, as your kind so demonstrably have. Worship, and the faith thereof, then, may provide much-needed guidance,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Faith, hmm¡­,¡± Mortoc mused for a moment. ¡°That reminds me to ask: where is your faith placed, as a warrior of another breed, Inquisitor? Do you place it in men, or is it solely placed in the Withering Throne?¡±


    ¡°Both?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°It was an either-or question,¡± Mortoc grumbled.


    ¡°I place some of my faith in the men and women who serve me, but I place most of my faith in the Throne to guide their hand for as long as they serve it loyally. So, too, do they place their faith in me to steer our course rightly, while most of their faith is placed in the Throne to keep me in the bask of its light,¡± I explained. ¡°It is not either-or. It is both.¡±


    ¡°So you believe in divine intervention, even if in the form of guidance if not benediction,¡± Mortoc surmised.


    ¡°Again, I believe in and have seen the workings of both,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Then you are not unlike some of my ilk, and your Corpse-God not unlike the twisted devils they worship in turn,¡± Mortoc suggested. It was a comparison that filled me with disgust. So I replied in kind.


    ¡°And does this alleged similarity to those who follow such lesser-beings not point to a na?vet¨¦ amidst your ranks, that your kind sees unfit to take part in the way of the universe? Seems you are a bit stuck in the past from your own ignorant dogma,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Oh, to be lectured on dogma by an Inquisitor of all people!¡± Mortoc observed, bellowing out a laugh. ¡°The irony is rich indeed. Tell me, Inquisitor, was it not dogma that brought you here to me, or was it merely your sheer stupidity? This time, perhaps ¡®both¡¯ is more valid an answer.¡±


    ¡°Does it matter? I am here,¡± I shrugged on instinct, though it hurt to move against my bindings in that regard.


    ¡°Hm, you need not reside in those restraints still, save for those upon your mind. Let¡¯s get you out of those,¡± Mortoc decided, and rose from his throne of iron. Admittedly, I had no complaints about having more wiggle room, and so did not resist him as he freed me as described. I rose to my feet when he had unbound me, while he meanwhile strode back to his seat. He did not sit back upon it, however, and instead stood tall before me. ¡°Suppose it does matter, Blackgar. Suppose if you truly are an idiot, your life matters a little less to me.¡±


    ¡°I came to see, personally, your head removed from your shoulders. I could have glassed your world, and will yet, but it would not matter if I could not confirm your demise. Now that I know you¡¯re here indeed, the hard part is done,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Oh, ¡®the hard part¡¯ is far from over for you, I¡¯m afraid. But I¡¯ll admit, I can give some modicum of respect for that choice. Yes, for lack of intel of the target¡¯s whereabouts, I suppose there is some wisdom to overseeing the termination of a priority target,¡± Mortoc agreed. ¡°Good. I had hoped some intelligence survived into the rotted Imperium of yours. Many, many of your kind do not possess much in the way of strategic wit.¡±


    ¡°Well as long as we¡¯re paying each other the courtesies of compliments, allow me to extend one in turn: I have spoken the language of war that you have, and found it poignant. We are grave enemies, yes, but I have seen eye-to-eye with you on the field of battle, which I have not for so very many years, if ever,¡± I admitted to him.


    ¡°Hmph. I can say the same, albeit for far greater a span of years than I suspect you have yet come to know,¡± Mortoc replied, nodding. He then reached down to his iron throne and returned the helmet sitting upon it to covering his head. When next he spoke, through said-helmet, his voice had deepened considerably: ¡°I wish to give you a tour of my Citadel of Rust, Inquisitor Callant Blackgar. We have much more to discuss, you and I, some of which I hope will bring you catharsis and insight. I invite you to join me willingly in this regard; I do not wish to use force against you again, not yet.¡±


    ¡°But that is coming,¡± I acknowledged.


    ¡°Of course it is. We are grave enemies, are we not?¡± he laughed. ¡°So, should I break your body now, or can we get to that later?¡±


    ¡°Show me what you must, traitor; I welcome the opportunity to regain some of my strength that I might later take your head,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Good. That is the plan, in part,¡± he chuckled, and then lifted his large great axe from the ground and gestured to his right with his powerfist. ¡°Shall we?¡±

 Chapter 89 - Ruin

    For a time, following Valeran Mortoc was a mostly silent affair. The hiss and stomp of his footfalls, while of high volume, were the only real sound to be heard. This mechanical march of the Iron Warriors Captain was oddly calming to me. Perhaps it, for its periodic nature, made me recall my time in the Militarum, where the sounds of men marching a thousandfold were commonplace to me. Or perhaps it reminded me of the sound of His Angels, fallen though this one was. Whatever the case may be, I should note I found Mortoc¡¯s footsteps calming, not comforting. I found no comfort for myself in this deranged, defiled citadel which had been so corrupted by the traitor-kin of Man.


    I found less comfort still when Mortoc¡¯s tour led me from one great hall into another, and in this one waited many of the Lost and the Damned, as well as a few other Iron Warriors. Upon our entry, my mortal opponents made their hatred of me known at once, spitting out their revilement in heretical slurs I would neither commit to memory nor commit to this scripture of my recount of the scene. ¡°Pay them no mind,¡± Mortoc said over his shoulder to me. ¡°They are not for you.¡±


    ¡°I think they very much are for me,¡± I replied in jest. The hatred, yes, was for me. But Mortoc had meant that these human traitors were not something he intended for me to worry about. No, I was confident, even then, that he was saving me for himself. This was a point furthered, perhaps by design, by what came next¡ªsomething that I could not see coming, for lack of my psykana, but that a being of heightened reactions, like Mortoc, could easily perceive at a glance.


    The shot was blocked against the side of a great axe before I even heard the sound of the autogun having been fired. I flinched at the pop of the firearm¡¯s muzzle and also at the ping of the bullet against Mortoc¡¯s power weapon. For Mortoc, however, there was no flinching. Instead, he moved himself between me and my unseen assailant while reaching over me with his axe-wielding arm, for it was that arm that also held the Combi-Bolter on its wrist. With a single roar, the Combi-weapon vaporized a would-be assassin that had not yet tried to kill me, and then Mortoc turned around to kill the one that had. His Iron Warrior brothers, meanwhile, pointed their own Bolters into the crowds on either side of me, quelling the rambunctious jeering to quietude instead.


    ¡°Any who mean harm to a guest in our house mean harm to me,¡± Mortoc proclaimed, voice loud and pronounced, but it was clear he was not shouting or yelling. As he made his declaration, he circled around me, his cloak of braided chains sliding along my waist as he did so and, as a result, nearly toppling me over from its own heft. [Post script addendum: It is here I must confess to a degree of awe for Mortoc, and the Astartes project in general. Their great size betrays their grace¡ªnot unlike in regards to Lucene, albeit to an even greater discrepancy. In a way, I deeply envy Mortoc; I see him as having squandered such bountiful gifts, to be what he is but having chosen to become who he is. I do not admire the traitor, but I do acknowledge what he could have been, and in that, I am in awe.] ¡°While he is here you will treat Inquisitor Blackgar with the same reverence that his own citizenry would. You will not obey his demands, no, but you will nevertheless treat him with the utmost respect or otherwise meet as grisly an end as I can muster. Come then, Blackgar,¡± he said more quietly, turning to me after he had demonstrated his defense of my person. ¡°I have much to show you.¡±


    ¡°And I assume this scene was staged among the rest of your tour,¡± I suggested, but nevertheless followed him still.


    ¡°Why would it be?¡± he mused, leading me on through the now-silent hall.


    ¡°You intend to corrupt me,¡± I observed. ¡°It is the only fathomable reason I yet live.¡±


    ¡°It is far from the only one, Inquisitor,¡± he answered. He then glanced over his shoulder to me and added, ¡°But you are keen indeed. Still, I suspect you will not be too difficult.¡±


    ¡°I may surprise you,¡± I grunted.


    ¡°As may I,¡± he warned me. ¡°Not far now. Just through here,¡± he told me, leading me from the great hall into a narrower corridor that he, in his power armor, could only barely fit into comfortably. This corridor led around a bend before exiting into a large, rounded room. A semicircle arc of this room was of glass, or some other reinforced transparency, revealing the orange/red hues of the outside warzone. Meanwhile, cages hung from the ceiling of the room or otherwise simply rested upon its floors, among a greasy sop of blood, bile, and oils. This was a prison, though why he had led me to such a place, and why a prison had such a view of the outside world, were both unclear to me in the immediate. There were a few prison guards, all Astartes, that meandered about between cages. Mortoc motioned one over. ¡°Which one is he?¡±


    The guard gestured across the room, and I followed still in Mortoc¡¯s footsteps as he stomped onward in that direction. He led me to a cage covered with an olive-colored tarp, upon which rested a familiar Boltpistol. Mortoc planted his great axe in the ground upon its hilt, where it rested upright without his grip on it. I assume the hilt magnetized to the metal floor at our feet. With his hand now freed, he plucked my Boltpistol from the top of the cage and tossed it back to me. The weapon may have been small for his hands, but for mine¡ªof which I only had the non-augmetic birth one¡ªit was quite large, and I again nearly fell over in trying to catch it. Once I had caught it, however, I made note of its weight¡ªthere was a single Bolt in it. Any Commissar worth their salt knew when they were on their last round by weight alone.


    Despite such intrinsic knowledge, Mortoc saw it fit to declare such information to me. ¡°Just one Bolt. Make it count,¡± he told me, and then tugged on the tarp of the cage to pull it off, revealing the prisoner within as Mortoc stepped aside. In a heartbeat, my arm snapped to aiming at the prisoner, though my aim was shaking. Mortoc, laughing, pulled his helmet off and sat it upon the top of the cage where my Boltpistol had been. ¡°Picked him up as he chased in vain. He was not too fond of you, it seemed,¡± Mortoc explained, gesturing to Lord Inquisitor Kanin, bound and gagged within the cage. Patches of Kanin¡¯s flesh had been torn or seared off, and his head hung low, even as blood-filled eyes locked with mine. He seemed as an animal, beaten within an inch of his life, but alive all the same.


    But to me he was the one that had gotten Xavier Gradshi killed. Or Lord Caliman. Or thousands of others. The forces of ours that he ran off with were demonstrably wasted, and I hated him to my core for it. A summary execution would have been fit for him on the field of battle, were I a Commissar and he anything less than an Inquisitor. Mortoc knew this, and grinned. ¡°What has he cost you, I wonder? He, this pathetic excuse of a man, who outranks you? Who held such sway over you and your environment? A rival who loathed you more so than the dregs we just waded through?¡±


    I had no response but to shakily maintain my aim. Kanin, likewise, had no response but to stare at me in silence. How it stung me to know that he had lived where others had not. How it must have stung him to see me relatively unharmed, and with the freedom to act as I pleased, unbound and untortured. I had promised myself, and Lucene, that I would skin him alive, and not long ago, I would have enjoyed doing so. Even then, it was likely I would have gotten some small pleasure from such an ordeal, at a minimum. And in his eyes, those weak, hyphema-enduring eyes, I still saw the hatred of me, the disdain. I did not see Kanin wanting me to shoot him, but rather the expectation that I would. He undoubtedly saw how very much I wanted to. Who would know? sung temptation. It would be free. Another casualty of war, slain by the Bolts of the enemy. And he deserves it all the same.


    I pulled the trigger, having spun on my heels, aim now between Mortoc¡¯s recently-exposed eyes. And with a click, nothing happened, and my own gaze fell to the barrel of my Boltpistol in confusion. ¡°Hm. Disappointing,¡± Mortoc shrugged, then reddened the cage¡¯s insides further with a single shot from his Combi-Bolter. Some of Kanin, now splattered across the scene, splashed upon my boots in turn. As I recoiled in beholding the sudden killing of a Lord Inquisitor, Mortoc picked his great axe up again and, with the side of its blade, swatted my Boltpistol from my grasp, which did a good job of getting my attention back to him. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand my hatred,¡± I seethed. ¡°I hated him, yes, with everything I had. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that you¡¯re my enemy, and he wasn¡¯t.¡±


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    ¡°Your hatred does not guide your aim?¡±


    ¡°I hate you all the same,¡± I noted. ¡°It is a matter of the kind of hatred, not the intensity.¡±


    Mortoc looked around the room, gesturing to the other Iron Warriors present. ¡°You would make such a distinction, with a single Bolt to your name, and choose to spare a weak runt such as he in the presence of such might as would end you in turn?¡±


    ¡°In a heartbeat. That is the war beyond these walls, traitor. Not merely on Jaegetri, but through all the cosmos. I am no ally to the likes of Lord Inquisitor Kanin, but I am most certainly, and always, your enemy. You would be unwise to make that mistake again,¡± I assured him.


    ¡°Hm. We shall see. Quite literally so; there is more yet to show you. Come along then,¡± Mortoc declared, and donned his helmet once again. It then occurred to me that he had only taken it off to pose the option of shooting him in Kanin¡¯s place to me. An opportunity provided by design, just as he had staged the attempted shooting in the great hall prior. I was far from as free as I thought¡ªand Kanin loathed¡ªI was. I was a step behind him still, very literally following the murky paths he had laid out before me. I may not have been chained up and dragged along behind him, but there was no choice but to follow him for now; any alternative was something already calculated for.


    A point furthered still by the Iron Warrior that approached him as he made to leave the scene. ¡°Captain Mortoc, sir, we have intercepted vox communication from the enemy. They know he is here.¡± For the briefest moment, that inspired me with some small hope. But then I realized, in the fractional seconds before Mortoc¡¯s hope-killing response, that this, too, was pre-ordained. I had no business hearing the communique of Astartes, not while they had their helmets on. This conversation was for me, and were it not for Mortoc¡¯s reply, may not have even been true. But as his response was worse than the alternative, I assumed their interception was indeed true.


    ¡°Good,¡± he answered, and in that crushed the glimmer of optimism I had found. ¡°They will be inclined to come here, then, where they will die upon our walls. Raise the Skybreaker.¡±


    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± the traitor-Astartes nodded, and left to fulfill whatever order Mortoc had just given him.


    ¡°You have this all planned out, don¡¯t you?¡± I seethed from behind Mortoc.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he confirmed with a chuckle. ¡°You are not the only soldier in the war beyond these walls. We all fight and die to kill all the others. Now then, shall we?¡±


    ***


    Through countless iron halls, Valeran Mortoc led me further into his citadel. Up, down, within, throughout. I could not have retraced my steps if I tried, and the nagging curiosity of where he intended to bring me, coupled with the puppeteer¡¯s strings I knew to be on my hand and feet, kept me behind him still. Eventually, he led me to a great balcony of sorts, an opening in his citadel half-exposed to the outside world. Half the circular room was without a roof, but erected under the half that was covered from the skies was a great pillar of iron. A man¡ªno, another Astartes¡ªwas chained to this pillar, the iconography of the Iron Warriors at his back. But the armor at his feet was not of the IV<sup>th</sup> Legion. It was, instead, red and brass. Two great, flat-plated horns erupted from his helmet on the floor. I knew this chained prisoner, then, to be another enemy of mine¡ªa World Eater of the XII<sup>th</sup> Legion. But, also, apparently an enemy of Mortoc¡¯s.


    ¡°A small squadron of them attempted to raid this world not long before you arrived,¡± Mortoc explained to my side, noting my temporary interest in the captive, who seemed not to pay me any mind. The World Eater instead continuously wrestled against his bindings, and devolved into screaming¡ªnot out of physical agony¡ªand incoherent shouting as the chains around his body failed to break. I looked back to Mortoc, who I found to be leaning on a reinforced railing of the balcony. ¡°Killed most of them. Some survived, and of those survivors, I have given them what they most desire,¡± Mortoc explained, and gestured out to the warzone beyond. ¡°A great spilling of blood. The torture, then, is that they are but witnesses to the bloodshed hence, that it is not their hands that maim and kill.¡±


    ¡°Is this where you hand me another Bolter? Because I would kill this one,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Ha. No. I think it more likely you would aim to free him, in the futile hope that he might kill me instead, even if he would also slay you.¡±


    ¡°Not a bad trade,¡± I acknowledged.


    ¡°I did not bring you here to see him. In fact, we are not here for long. Our destination lies a few rooms that way,¡± Mortoc admitted, gesturing to an archway on a far wall of the balcony, under the roofed half. ¡°I brought you here to witness what he does. The war we wage, you and I. Yours are fierce, I will give them that. I suspect there is Iron in the veins of many that oppose us, Iron which will sadly be spilled out. You could end that, you know.¡±


    ¡°I have never surrendered, and you most of all will not be the one to change that trend,¡± I spat back, disgusted with the ¡®s¡¯ word as it left my tongue.


    ¡°I do not ask for your surrender, Blackgar. I ask instead for your alliance,¡± Mortoc answered, and the thought was more disgusting for me still. ¡°Oh how it would torture him so,¡± Mortoc laughed, looking back to the World Eater. ¡°Peace. Peace might just be too much for him to handle. What greater victory is there than the kind that ends all battles beyond?¡±


    ¡°Peace is what you want?¡± I asked in disbelief, scoffing and shaking my head. ¡°Peace? That¡¯s why I¡¯m alive, is it?¡±


    Mortoc turned back to me, and for a long while, he said nothing, leaving me instead with the sounds of cataclysmic warfare and the barbarous screaming of a World Eater. At last, Mortoc simply stated, ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Well you won¡¯t have it, not while I¡¯m alive,¡± I assured him.


    ¡°I think you do not know the whole picture,¡± he offered.


    ¡°I think I don¡¯t need to.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± Mortoc then reached onto his hip and produced a voxcaster, which he rested upon the railing of the balcony. He then lifted a hand to his helmet, but after a moment returned it to the voxcaster before turning the device on.


    %All vessels, commit forward batteries to strike targets around the Citadel of Rust, as provided in Briefing 44.J.CB. All strike teams, converge on the Citadel itself. Command operative is withheld and requires immediate assistance,% Zha Trantos said through the voxcaster, though it was surely not meant for my ears or Mortoc¡¯s.


    %We¡¯d be exposing ourselves to the Wolves if we commit to such a strike,% Alejandro Batos replied.


    %I don¡¯t give a shit about the Wolves! We have credible intel on the location of our target and the location of a captive Inquisitor! Turn everything else on the planet to a smoldering crater or a sheet of glass, because nothing else matters! You can tell the Wolves to besiege the Citadel too if they want, or otherwise get off the planet. But I¡¯m not shedding a tear if they stand between us and the enemy and are reduced to molten slag for it. You have your orders, Batos.%


    Mortoc then put the voxcaster away and turned to me. ¡°Who is she?¡±


    ¡°Never heard her before in my life,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°Like hell. The vox comes from the bridge of your ship. What is her name?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not having her,¡± I promised him.


    ¡°I want her because she¡¯s worth saving from the Skybreaker,¡± Mortoc sighed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is, but that you want her is why you¡¯re not going to get her,¡± I replied.


    ¡°So be it. It should be ready soon,¡± Mortoc shrugged. ¡°Or, now, apparently¡ªso I¡¯m told,¡± he corrected himself, then raised a hand to his helmet again. ¡°Echoshroud. Confirm.¡±


    ¡°What did you just do?¡±


    ¡°I told you, Blackgar. You and yours will die upon these walls, even if from the void above. This all ends when you give the order for it to stop,¡± Mortoc explained. ¡°You have one hand. Cover that side¡¯s ear.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because my power fist would otherwise disintegrate your head,¡± Mortoc explained, then wrapped himself around me while covering my left ear with his non-power fist hand. Then with my skull within his grasp, it was abundantly clear both that he could have killed me in an instant if he wanted, and that he did not want to. I did as he instructed, and covered my other ear. In silence, at last deafened to the World Eater¡¯s screams, I stood impatient, though Mortoc stood far more stoically still than I managed. He was as unto a statue within his armor. After perhaps two minutes of this, an incomprehensibly titanic shockwave rushed over the Citadel, lifting my feet off the ground and thrusting me back. Surely, were either of my ears exposed to it, my head would have popped. And whatever made this shockwave also made a concentrated beam of light that sailed into the skies above Jaegetri, ripping apart and incinerating the orange clouds of the world.


    Skybreaker.


    When the world stopped shaking, Mortoc released me to my own devices, where I immediately fell forward and puked over the balcony¡¯s railing from the vertigo I had suffered. Standing behind me, Mortoc declared, ¡°Twenty-seven minutes between shots. How many hours has this battle been fought across, hm? How many could I have killed with Skybreaker? I will spare her for last, Blackgar, but if the time comes and your vessel, with her on it, is all that¡¯s left, I will kill her too. I would rather not, but we are at war.¡± I then managed to look up, over the horizon, where I witnessed the flaming carcass of the Echoshroud fall upon a faraway land. ¡°Until we are allies, Blackgar, I am Devastation. I am Ruin. I am where good intentions, be they those for your Corpse-God or for the daemon upon a Throne of Skulls, go to die. There is only one outcome for my enemies, Blackgar, and I think you¡¯ll come to agree that it is not productive. Be my ally, then. There is someone we both want to kill.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± I grunted out, short of breath and still spitting out mucus and phlegm.


    ¡°The man¡ªif he can be called that¡ªwith whom we are about to speak. Now come along, and remember: every second that goes by, I am killing everyone you know.¡±

 Chapter 90 - Revelation

    The journey from the World Eater¡¯s torture chamber to our destination took three minutes more. Every second counted through my head, as Mortoc had revealed the time required for the Skybreaker to fire another shot. In twenty-four minutes, it would kill another voidship, either one of mine or among those of Battlefleet Ixaniad that had come with us. I wagered Mortoc would choose one of the latter, wanting to save most of my fleet for last, with Echoshroud having been made an example of.


    Our penultimate destination, however, was perhaps of the last sort I could have expected, both in the sense that I did not anticipate being brought there, and in the sense that I did not imagine it existed on this world. Mortoc, you see, brought me to a library. Or, rather, a study which itself contained a library within. Mortoc, it seemed, was well-read, which in hindsight should not have been surprising given his demeanor and general intellectual capacity. Not all works in the study were heretical, either. Some, such as The Spheres of Longing, which had oft-haunted me in a number of my campaigns, were of Imperial origin. Some others I could not recognize, and in fact appeared to be of Xenos origin. Aeldari, I imagined, for I knew of few other Xenos that may have had the capacity¡ªor desire¡ªto commit text to scripture.


    However, none of these tomes were the reason Mortoc had brought me here. That, instead, was for a device which I did not recognize and must assume was deeply heretical in nature. It appeared to be a voxcaster, but tainted by the ruinous designs of the archenemy, as crude flesh emerged from within the innards which would have otherwise housed a Machine Spirit. Perhaps sensing my revulsion at the sight of this device, Mortoc clarified, ¡°He is in the Warp, you see.¡±


    ¡°Who is?¡± I asked, doing my best to keep my eyes off the dreaded contraption, lest its taint stain my memory further.


    ¡°Our mutual foe,¡± Mortoc answered, placing the mutated voxcaster onto an iron table before stepping around the furniture to sit upon a seat much too large for a human. He gestured to a more accommodating seat across the table for me to take, which I did with some degree of glee; now that he and the warped voxcaster were both in a line across the table from me, I could look away from them both with ease. ¡°One I believe whose name you likely know by now. Ouranos.¡±


    ¡°What is Ouranos to you?¡± I asked at once, a bit shocked by the name drop. In retrospect, I am unsure why I was so shocked. I had only heard the name from another of Ouranos¡¯s heretical puppets, via Absalom.


    ¡°Did I not answer that question by referring to him as ¡®our mutual foe?¡¯¡± Mortoc grumbled, then flicked a switch on the voxcaster. I expected I would feel something from a Warp-touched device such as it was; but I did not. Perhaps whatever Mortoc was using to block my own psykana also shielded me from any psychic backlash the device may have produced. I likely shall not ever know. Regardless, Mortoc, too, appeared unimpaired from the device¡¯s operation, and addressed it as soon as he pulled his hand back from flicking it on. ¡°I have brought him, you cowardly bastard. We are assembled, us three.¡±


    ¡°This was a mistake, Valeran,¡± came a voice all-too-familiar to me out from the voxcaster. It was indeed the very same of the ghostly figure that had visited me in my unconsciousness during the Phaenonite affair. ¡°You will not find in him what you seek.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m willing to try, if there is a chance to throw a wrench in your plans,¡± Mortoc answered. ¡°Regardless, Ouranos, Blackgar. Blackgar, Ouranos,¡± he introduced us, not knowing that we had spoken prior.


    ¡°We¡¯ve met, albeit not in the realm of the conscious,¡± Ouranos answered, and I confirmed the claim with a slow and careful nod. ¡°How are you, Callant Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°A bit confused, which does not happen often, and without an arm, which admittedly does happen all-too often,¡± I answered, and Ouranos managed a chuckle. ¡°What is it Mortoc seeks in me?¡±


    ¡°I have already told you this, too, Blackgar,¡± Mortoc sighed. ¡°Lies are your faction¡¯s department, not mine.¡±


    ¡°Valeran seeks in you an ally. He will not find it, will he?¡± Ouranos asked, though it seemed¡ªand indeed was¡ªrhetorical. ¡°The choice is, ultimately, yours, Callant. But worry not, your decision is irrelevant,¡± he assured me, though that brought Mortoc to shaking his head. ¡°Valeran believes that the two of you, together, could overcome the designs I have for you both. You can¡¯t. If you two did ally, I would engineer an alliance to counter yours in turn¡ªI have already demonstrated the capacity for such as you witnessed on Hestia Majoris, Callant.¡±


    ¡°He speaks much but knows little, Blackgar,¡± Mortoc interjected with a scoff. ¡°He does not know what I have on him. I can and will strike at the bastard, but with you, Inquisitor, my claws are surer to reach.¡±


    ¡°Valeran believes that killing me is enough to spare him of his end,¡± Ouranos chided the Astartes. ¡°It isn¡¯t. His time draws near, as does yours, Callant. You should rejoice, as you both will, in ending, find yourselves serving a greater power than any you yet believe to.¡±


    ¡°And which power is that?¡± I asked. Names have power, or, rather, they are power. Just as aliases may shield some, such as the daemon in my head, true names can bring foes bare. For that reason, I did not expect a response, at least not one that answered my question directly. But I did expect a reply, and in that, the chance to gleam something more of this foe.


    ¡°One who has only ever granted the gift of finality to his followers. Just look at Scelus¡¯s Silence,¡± Ouranos offered.


    ¡°I know not who Scelus is,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Not who, what. It is a world, declared perdita by your Inquisition. Part of the Cadian Gate,¡± Mortoc explained for me. If true, it was a piece of history I cannot claim to know. And that I do not know means I should not care, for I only know what I should must. ¡°I do not know what Ouranos means by the world¡¯s Silence.¡±


    ¡°Well if neither of you know, I suppose it¡¯s irrelevant. I am not among them, though we do serve the same power in the cosmos,¡± Ouranos explained.


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    ¡°May I interject with what may seem to be an irrelevant question?¡± I asked, but before I got a response, I proceeded with the question on my mind. ¡°Throughout my many years on your trail, Ouranos, I have come upon the notion of some poignant colors, one of them red, for instance. And when we first met, there were four colors you told me to ignore, but you referred to them as though they were alive. Who are they? What are they in this?¡±


    ¡°You look too far ahead, Callant,¡± Ouranos answered. ¡°They are my contingency. They are my enemies. They are my prisoners. To understand them, you must understand me, so in that regard, it is not an irrelevant question. Have you come to grasp what it is I mean for you both?¡±


    ¡°An end, that much has been abundantly clear,¡± I drawled.


    ¡°Yes, but it is the nature of that end that is most important,¡± Ouranos replied. ¡°It matters that it is an end you approach willingly. Self-destruction. You two engage in the battle that you do at will, and when one slays the other, that will is mine. When the victor comes for me, I will destroy them, or they will destroy me. In either scenario, I win; the only way either of you can kill me is via a sacrifice or loss you will be unwilling to make or, in the event that you do, unable to accept. For you, Callant, this is Lucene, as I have shown you.


    ¡°The colors, my prisoners, are my contingency should I run out of viable contenders that might destroy me in the materium. It is they that aim to kill me, not unlike yourselves, and they can. I keep them restrained within what you know as the Eye of Terror, but if I die, they will escape. And the result of their freedom will be the assured destruction of whoever it was that put me down. Do you understand? In this game we¡¯re in, all players die. The whole of the galaxy dies. Annihilation is the only true victor,¡± he explained.


    ¡°How grandiose,¡± I answered, uninvested in the heretic¡¯s visions.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Mortoc agreed with me in a nod. ¡°Generally those that plan for things on such a scale have a few blind spots perilously close to home. I¡¯m quite confident I¡¯ve found some to prove the point. So, Blackgar, is my offer of alliance on the table yet?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Eh, tough bastard, you are,¡± he sighed. ¡°You¡¯ll crack eventually. And literally.¡±


    ¡°No, Valeran, Callant¡¯s response is the only one he can give,¡± Ouranos replied. ¡°Whatever it is you think to know about me, you evidence a clear lack of understanding of Callant¡¯s position, and how can you form an alliance with someone you do not understand? Do you even know what¡¯s in that head of his?¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± I asked Ouranos. In the meantime, Mortoc gave an answer to Ouranos¡¯s question.


    ¡°The workings of a powerful psyker, yes,¡± Mortoc shrugged. ¡°Albeit not so powerful as to be unrestrainable.¡±


    ¡°I do, Callant, yes. Does this surprise you?¡± Ouranos answered me.


    ¡°No; we had intel that suggested as such, but I wanted confirmation from you,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Curious. I would not have expected you to know this. Perhaps, as Valeran says, blind spots, though I find it unlikely it will be of great consequence in the grand scheme of things,¡± Ouranos admitted. In the meantime, Mortoc sat still, stoic, undoubtedly wondering what it was that he was unaware of. Twisting the dagger in that regard, Ouranos spoke to him, ¡°It is this ignorance of yours, Valeran, that I expect to see you laid low. The one-eyed, one-armed man is by far the most dangerous entity on your planet. You are of little consequence; I chose you for my puppeteering because of the resources at your command, but as an individual, you are not as Callant Blackgar is.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Mortoc growled.


    ¡°Quite so. I believe Callant even has two operatives to his name for whom you are no match either,¡± Ouranos warned him, likely referring to Bliss and Galen. ¡°Is this really a war you think you win head-on? I believed you better than that.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason for me to crave an alliance. I had one, you know, with the Phaenonites, Blackgar. They were not true Inquisitors¡ªthat much we undoubtedly agree wholeheartedly on. I can offer you so much, you see. Security. Resilience. The Might of Iron. You, in turn, can provide security of a different nature. You can offer me the freedom to move as I please, to strike as I need at Ouranos.¡±


    ¡°Is this why you besiege Ixaniad? To get a staging ground for such a battle?¡± I asked.


    Mortoc had no response, and stared blankly at me through his Terminator helmet. After the silence had mounted, Ouranos shot forth a laugh through the voxcaster. ¡°Oh, is that what you have, Valeran? Is that all? That is not enough. For context, Callant, it appears Valeran is aware that I am due to emerge from the Empyrean into your Ixaniad Sector some years from now. This Iron Warrior of ours intends to lay in wait for me. Yes, I suppose in that regard your alliance would prove very apparently effectual. But again, irrelevant, for reasons already described. I do not care if you ¡®win¡¯ this battle, Valeran. I win it. The only question is whether you do too, and for that my concern is limited.¡±


    ¡°You find victory in death, Ouranos,¡± Mortoc acknowledged. ¡°I have far worse fates intended for you than that.¡±


    ¡°Oooh, scary,¡± Ouranos mocked. ¡°Ah, if only you knew of mangled fates. Alas, that is not for you. Destruction is all I can offer the likes of you, though mine is less an offer and more of an assurance. Well, isn¡¯t this fun, here? We three enemies, at the precipice of being at each other¡¯s throats. I wonder, when Annihilation arrives, will there be two of you knocking at my door, or only one? I supposed Callant gets to decide that. But he and I already know his decision, which begs the question of why you¡¯ve brought us all here, Astartes.¡±


    ¡°To give Blackgar a glimpse into the real war, the one that matters,¡± Mortoc answered. ¡°Knowledge leads to insight. Insight leads to wisdom. Wisdom leads to guidance.¡±


    ¡°Faith guides my hand, traitor, to putting a blade between your eyes, as I will repeat for Ouranos in turn,¡± I corrected him. ¡°I have some small respect for you, Astartes, as an opponent that has brought me low and clearly wields a degree of intelligence unlike the filth my ordos often cleanse. But you will never find in me an ally, even if our foes are indeed mutual in this instance. The best I can offer you is a swift demise.¡±


    ¡°Contrary to Ouranos¡¯s ego-stroking, I do not believe you can offer me even that, Blackgar,¡± Mortoc shrugged. ¡°But do not worry. Today is far from your last opportunity to accept my offer of alliance. I do not need you in one piece for that. But I believe this conversation of ours nears a close of its productivity. Any final things to say, coward?¡± Mortoc asked Ouranos.


    ¡°The end of the millenium will be a bit bumpy. I advise you both to stay out of the Warp and hunker down, then, and if you can help it. In particular, avoid the Cadian and Nachmund Systems, too,¡± Ouranos warned us, then seemed to cut the connection himself, bringing a close to the low, ambient hum of the voxcast which I had, until then, not acknowledged.


    ¡°Right. Whatever that means. One final journey, Blackgar. Remember, you are on a clock to save your men,¡± Mortoc reminded me, rising to his feet. I followed suit. He, however, approached me. ¡°Brace yourself, this may sting,¡± he warned, and reached behind me. I made to spin around to keep his arm in view, but he was demonstrably quicker than I, and produced a shock of pain from the back of my head before I had formed the thought to move.


    ¡°Gah! What the devil did you just do?¡± I asked, jumping away from the patient titan next to me. He had, in his grasp, another piece of unfamiliar technology.


    ¡°The oppressor of your psykana, previously plugged into your MIU,¡± Mortoc answered, lifting the tech higher into the air before crushing it in his grasp. ¡°Do not try to use your mind on me, not yet. Save it for our destination. You will want to recover what you can until then. I think you have some understanding of where we¡¯re going next.¡±


    ¡°Wherever you intend to break me, physically or otherwise, yes,¡± I deduced. Mortoc nodded in response.

 Chapter 91 - Hope

    Skybreaker fired a second time during our final journey. It seemed as though Mortoc gave the command for the target of the awful artillery installation, but it was not given in a manner in which I could hear it, he instead using the secure channels available to the traitor-Astartes. And though the Citadel of Rust did shake tremendously from Skybreaker¡¯s second firing, that we were inside and deep within its halls no longer necessitated the covering of my ears to spare me death by liquification. Instead, I experienced what felt not unlike an earthquake as another of my or Batos¡¯s voidships was undoubtedly ripped asunder far overhead.


    Slowly, over the span of our journey, my psykana returned to me. I could begin to feel the maddened thoughts of countless traitors all around me. I much preferred the previous silence I had been given. Still, I knew that if I was to kill Mortoc, I would need my mind¡ªwhich begged the question, why would he return it to me? Why seek to strengthen me so? This I did not understand, but I was certainly not about to complain about it. These questions persisted throughout our journey, and the curiosity behind them intensified upon finally arriving at our destination, which was the great hall in which we had first come face to face with each other. Well, from my perspective, anyways; likely Mortoc had seen me unconscious elsewhere. Joining us in this great hall was Mortoc¡¯s throne of iron, as well as a pair of Iron Warriors who held between them a large, metal warchest. Mortoc had them drop it to the ground upon our arrival.


    ¡°Go to it. It is yours, dear Inquisitor. Arm yourself,¡± he instructed of me as he made for his Throne. I looked at him with hesitant concern, and then returned my gaze to the warchest, as well as the two Astartes behind it. Mortoc addressed them, then. ¡°You two, secure the entrance. No one disturbs us until I emerge to invite you back inside. Should Blackgar be the one to emerge, you will let him pass, and rejoice, for he will have taken my head and thus provided room for one of you to take my place as Captain,¡± Mortoc ordered, again giving his commands audibly such that I could hear them. The two Astartes nodded before marching off in the direction we had arrived from, leaving me alone with Mortoc.


    ¡°What are you playing at, traitor?¡± I asked him as I moved over to the warchest. I scanned it with my mind, but could not accurately perceive its contents. I did get the sense that it was not boobytrapped, which was my main concern at the time¡ªI received no indication of inherent malice or ill-will emanating from the chest¡¯s intended use.


    ¡°It is your indoctrination that keeps you from being my ally,¡± Mortoc declared. ¡°Your dogma, your zeal. I will break those, as I will break you. But breaking a body is far easier than breaking a mind,¡± he explained, and as he did so, I opened the warchest at last. Inside, I found my augmetic arm, my Ignatus power armor, my two power swords, and my Boltpistol. The full extent of my armament. ¡°Fight me, Callant Blackgar. Fight me at your best. Do this, and I will break you. I will lay you low, and while I will not kill you, I will monitor your recovery. When next I allow you to fight me, you will be weaker and more battered than you are now. I will beat you then, too. The third time we duel, you will be weaker still. This, now, is your best chance to kill me, and therefore your only one. Take my head today, or you will never manage the task at all, forever doomed to duel me as a lesser man than you are now. In this, I aim to destroy all other options for you, to crush your hope. After today, the only path for you is as my ally.¡±


    ¡°This plan of yours hinges on me failing to kill you now,¡± I reminded him, to which he nodded. ¡°You would stake your entire war, against the Inquisition and against Ouranos, on this one duel?¡± I asked, already having slotted in my augmetic arm and beginning to don my power armor, which was a lengthy process, as it was usually one requiring the assistance of another¡ªlike Lucene.


    ¡°I am not much intimidated by you, Blackgar. I would take this bet a thousand times over. But if you can kill me, do so. Prove me wrong. Slay a Terminator-Captain of the Iron Warriors, if you can,¡± Mortoc demanded. We said no more to one another from there. I understood his gambit, then, and did not need to question it further, silly though I found it. One duel to decide the fate of an entire war, and the Sector in which that war took place. So, from my arm, to my armor, to my blades, I donned all I could to prepare myself to fight yet another Astartes, as so often I had in the past, albeit never a Terminator. The last of my armaments was my Boltpistol, which as I held it, I found its heft to suggest it was fully loaded. Still, I had been tricked by its weight before, and thought to test fire a round off to my side. Then, I got a better idea.


    The first Bolt sailed across the room without warning, but was deflected off the side of Mortoc¡¯s great axe as he had once protected me from autogun fire previously. He blocked the second Bolt in the same manner, too, before shooting to his feet from his iron throne. In the same motion, he tossed the great axe across the room, where it would have crushed me to a paste where I stood had I not darted aside. I then dodged further away still, as Mortoc closed the distance between us to reclaim his axe and slash at me with his powerfist in the same motion.


    He was faster than I was, I knew that. He was better armed and armored too. I expected us to be of equal wit, but I had two advantages on him¡ªhe wanted me alive, which was not a courtesy I intended to extend to him, and he was no psyker. Knowing this, when he smashed into the ground at my former position to reclaim his great axe, I repeated the technique I had first used on New Cealis, and lifted him into the air with my mind. He was far heavier than a traditional Astartes, which was to be expected, but not so great that I could not manage the task. And when I had, I drew Drepane, engaged the power sword, and raised it between my eyes. (Err, my eye sockets. Still only had the one eye.) I then focused my mind into the power of the blade itself, and through it channeled raw psychic energy through the metal floors of the Citadel of Rust, which leapt out at Mortoc in the form of conjured lightning, electrocuting him where he floated.


    If that damaged him at all, he did not evidence it much, and wrestled against my mind to aim his Combi-Bolter my way. Two quick Bolts broke my focus of my electric psykana as I diverted attention to dodging and deflecting his assault, but still, I was able to keep him airborne. I thought to dive toward him and drive Drepane through his neck, but never got the chance. Instead, his cloak of chains began to glow, and as it did, the ground beneath Mortoc began to crack and give way. Gravity well, I realized a moment before Mortoc fell out of my grasp, suddenly weighing too much for me to hold with my mind. He crushed the ground below him into a crater not unlike that which I had once splattered Foxon Silverman to the bottom of long ago, but Mortoc was quick to emerge from the damage to his throne room. He shot forth like a cannonball of death and fury, a grey blur accented only by the gilding of his armor and weapons, while his powerfist sizzled and seethed through the air, opened wide.


    I backpedaled, my head splitting in pain from the now-broken focus I had asked of it. I did not see myself landing many wounds on Mortoc without some measure of sacrifice, so I was more than willing to use my psykana in spite of the damage to my mind it might cause, but I was also aware of the fact that I needed to pace myself. I did not have the raw might to kill Mortoc outright, and so would need to inflict what I could upon the bastard and then play a bit of defense. So, for a time, I bobbed and weaved through attacks that he undoubtedly was slowing down considerably, to keep me alive. I played that advantage of mine to the fullest extent that I could, using it as fuel to recover my other advantage, that of my mind, all the while dancing around his own advantages of strength and speed.


    It seemed, momentarily, that this dance of ours may have been able to continue forever. But that neglected our one similarity of wit, and Mortoc eventually deduced my strategy and countered it with further aggressiveness, trying to force me to use my mind to defend myself rather than to try to kill him. Bolt shots needed to be deflected or pre-detonated with my psykana, in such circumstances in which he fired them when I could not otherwise dodge them. It was a risk for him, too, as if he misjudged my stamina, he may have just killed me. But everything here was a calculated risk.


    I had not been taking too many risks until then, but it was, then, that I decided I should. In that regard, I decided to try to test my own capacity for aggression against his, psykana or not. When next I dodged his attacks, I planted my feet to hold my ground, and stood to stare down the monstrous Terminator before me. I took another Boltpistol shot at him, which he easily deflected as he often had, before I tossed the firearm over his head. He tracked it for a moment, as one¡¯s eyes were ever attracted to movement, but paid it no mind and instead closed the distance between us. As he neared, however, my mind grabbed hold of the Boltpistol while it was still airborne, and began unloading into him from the rear, as I had once wielded it when I dueled Gale Ryke and Foxon Silverman. Old habits¡­


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    My ploy worked for what it was, and made Mortoc turn around to cleave my Boltpistol in two with his great axe. But in failing to face me, he provided me with an opportunity to better aim at him, my augmetic configuring itself into its firing mode. The moment I saw his MIU on the back of his neck, where a great many cybernetics plugged into his skull, I fired, and blew apart some control over his mechanized body in the process. Mortoc fell to his knees, but he was far from down and out, and instead spun about and whipped his great axe at me another time, though this time oriented horizontally, like a rotor blade. I ducked under it before it ripped my top from my bottom, letting it sail overhead before it came to a halt in shearing apart the ground behind me.


    I raced to my feet and drew my power swords quick as I could while Mortoc turned toward me. I tried to drive my blades forward into his head, but he caught them both between the fingers of his opened powerfist, which he then closed and tightened to grasp the blades themselves. He then rose and spun his powerfist aside, tossing me away from him and, likewise, my blades out of my grasp. As I fell, I peppered him with autogun fire from my augmetic, and after I had landed, I willed my swords back to me while he began a slowed meander my way. Perhaps I had taken his ability to run from him, though betting on that was too risky still. Regardless, it gave me time to launch my augmetic hand for his head, after which I caught Drepane in my right hand while my other power sword cleaved through the cable that would have otherwise returned my hand to me.


    That was by design, as when the cable was severed, my augmetic hand¡ªthen upon Mortoc¡¯s helmet¡ªdug in, its grasp extending into Mortoc¡¯s head. Shortly thereafter, the hand detonated with the force of several Bolts, shrouding the Terminator in smoke and, again, dropping him to his knees¡ªan event I heard, but could not see. I then willed the power sword that had taken my hand from me¡ªintentionally, mind you¡ªto stab back at Mortoc in the cloud of smoke, while in the meantime I made to take his head from him once and for all with Drepane. Mortoc, however, smashed his powerfist into the ground while forming another gravity well via his cloak of chains, which had the effect of dropping the shroud of smoke around him to the ground. By then, I had committed to the motions of my attack, which was unfortunate, as Mortoc had caught my other power sword and used it to block my attempted killing blow.


    For a moment, I wrestled against the Terminator, blade to blade. His strength far outmatched mine, but I used my psykana to force him back as best I could. I looked into his eyes, which were exposed to me on account of my augmetic¡¯s detonation; the glass covering of his eyes had shattered, bloodying the fleshy orbs that then stared back at me, while Mortoc himself loosed a low growl like a feral beast. I had wounded him, yes. It had just taken almost everything I had to do so. While we struggled against each other, blade to blade, he rose his powerfist from the ground and flicked Drepane out of my grasp, forcing me to back away from him, and with haste, once more.


    Drepane landed some distance from me, near to Mortoc¡¯s great axe. As it did so, Mortoc pointed my other power sword toward me, aiming it at my head. ¡°Surrender, Blackgar. This doesn¡¯t need to get any messier. You¡¯ve fought well, and with honor, but you have little more to offer,¡± he insisted.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding,¡± I acknowledged. Angels, fallen ones especially, could bleed.


    ¡°Yes, I am. The blood I lose is lost to spare you the spilling of yours. Surrender. End this all. There¡¯s nothing for you in resisting further,¡± he pressed.


    ¡°Never. Not to you, not to anyone. You should know that by now,¡± I reminded him, happy to take a moment to gather my breath.


    ¡°As you wish,¡± he sighed, then turned his head to the side. ¡°Ebon Shrike. Confirm,¡± he ordered, commanding Skybreaker to fire upon the vessel of my Strike teams. Sure, they were mostly deployed upon Jaegetri, but it was still a place for them to call home, and a critical component of my overall fleet. Yet, despite Mortoc¡¯s orders, no great earthquake followed. ¡°Skybreaker, confirm targeting of Ebon Shrike,¡± he insisted. Nothing followed.


    ¡°Seems they¡¯re not dying upon your walls as much as you¡¯d like,¡± I grinned. ¡°So in light of that, why would I ever surrender to you now?¡±


    ¡°To avoid being broken,¡± Mortoc grumbled, and then tensed up to begin to move. How, I did not then know, but I still knew him for what he was, and knew that time could not be wasted against him. The moment I saw any movement at all, I willed Drepane back to me, where it arrived just in time to deflect my power sword from impaling itself in my chest cavity. I then tried to follow Mortoc, but he was moving faster than he had yet. My eyes could no longer follow him, which was itself terrifying. Transhuman dread. I had explained it once, to some Scions aboard the Dawnshadow. And I had felt it before. But the extent of that which I felt in failing to witness Mortoc¡¯s movement was greater than I had yet known. Mortoc had reacquired his great axe and begun stomping my way before I had processed him covering even half the distance thereof. Whatever cybernetics I had disabled in him, by damaging his MIU, were not in charge of his motor functions.


    He was a monster.


    Your lies cannot protect you here.


    For the first time, I used my psykana to propel myself away from him, to give my eyes time enough to track him and formulate some plan of survival via the muscles of my body alone.


    Your beliefs cannot save you here.


    My muscles? Against his? Down an arm and an eye? No, any contest of the body was one he would win, and I had already given too much of myself to compete for very long at all.


    Your hopes and dreams die here.


    I could not defeat Valeran Mortoc in direct combat. The realization slowly crept in. Faith may have been my shield and contempt my armor, but Mortoc was aware of both, and had every intention of categorically smashing both apart bit by bit. If he could beat the body, the mind could only hold out for so long, for as long as faith provided. And he had beaten the body.


    I had never lost before, not really.


    Was today to be my first?


    No, one trick remained, I decided. One final advantage remained, as it had from the beginning. He wanted me alive. So as he closed the distance, his powered great axe revving and humming not unlike his powerfist, I held my ground one last time, and welcomed death, if he was negligent enough to bring it.


    He was not, and instead the large power weapon, larger than Lucene, hung microns in front of my face, between my eyes. I panted for a few moments, my breath being vaporized against the energy that coursed through Mortoc¡¯s great axe. ¡°Is this your surrender?¡± Mortoc asked, keeping his weapon steady in front of me.


    ¡°You¡¯re a fool,¡± I muttered, and darted around his axe, putting it between myself and his powerfist, to stab at his waist with Drepane. And my blow connected, and blood was spilled. Mortoc countered, simply, by kicking me away from him, the knee of his gigantic leg crushing the chestplate of my armor while his lower leg launched me airborne. I landed some distance away, coughing up blood and pained more tremendously than I had been in several decades. Something was broken, internally. Many somethings, it felt like.


    ¡°Am I?¡± Mortoc laughed, moving to stand over me while I twitched on the floor, Drepane still embedded in his torso. He seemed not to care. ¡°I promised I would break you, and here we are. Everything has gone as planned. Your injuries are not lethal, but your chest is broken, as are many of your ribs. You will heal, we will see to that. And we will do this again. But a full recovery from these wounds is unlikely. Indeed, you will prove a lesser creature when next we duel. For now, though, hang tight. We must discover what has befallen Skybreaker, to get it operational once more.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll¡­never¡­leave¡­this¡­world,¡± I sputtered out, coughing out every word while my crippled remains fought in futility to put myself back together, even as the shadows moved across the ceiling and darkened all around me.


    ¡°Won¡¯t I?¡± Mortoc laughed as the shadows fell from the roof behind him. ¡°And what¡¯s to stop me? You?¡±


    His question was asked in another laugh, but that was cut short as a green blade pierced his chest where one of his hearts was, sending forth a splash of red gore onto the ground between us. ¡°Jack Harr¡¯s memory should suffice,¡± the shadows whispered in reply. Mortoc spun on his feet and whipped his powerfist through the air where his assailant had been, but even he was too slow for her. The black-synskin assassin rolled around him, and the very same green blade that had pierced him front to back then cleaved the arm of his powerfist off at the shoulder. Mortoc spun in futility a second time, trying to catch his assailant with his eyes, which instead sufficed only to provide her with the opportunity to draw Drepane out from his gut and use it to slice his head into the air, where it sailed high for a few moments before landing upright between my fidgeting remains and Bliss Carmichael.


    Bliss, still wielding Drepane, crushed Mortoc¡¯s skull under the heel of her right foot as she strolled over to me. She looked me over for a few moments while I struggled to breathe, though my eye did momentarily lock with one of hers. ¡°Rest, Callant. I will get you out of here,¡± she assured me, then knelt to my side before ripping the chestplate of my Ignatus armor off with a single hand. I remember thinking, of all things, that she could not have been so strong. I also remember recalling the fact that she had lifted Lucene, in all of the Sister¡¯s power armor, with relative ease not long ago. Such thoughts were my last ones, for the time being, before I blacked out, while Bliss lifted me into her arms, remaining armor and all.

 Chapter 92 - Hell

    Thus far in my life, I have been blessed with losing consciousness for extended periods of suffering. And while I did again give up the ghost in Mortoc¡¯s throne room, I alas was not out for too great a duration this time around. I view it as having been given a blessed opportunity to give penance for the wavering of my faith, and one I hope I met. Nevertheless, after blacking out shortly after Mortoc¡¯s demise, I returned to consciousness not in a medicae unit, but instead still within Bliss¡¯s arms. Unfortunately, she was not alone in that scene. ¡°Is that the Inquisitor?¡± one of the Wolves asked her. She replied by staring blankly at him. ¡°You can leave him in our care. We¡¯ll see him taken care of.¡±


    ¡°I will not be doing that. You will not lay a hand¡ªor claw¡ªupon him,¡± Bliss responded. ¡°Get out of my way, or you will die fighting for your own hubris rather than for the Throne.¡±


    A chuckle murmured through the Wolves that surrounded her, them perhaps not understanding what it was they were looking at, not knowing what Bliss was. The caveat of secrecy, as few knew an Assassinorum agent at a glance, even among Astartes. ¡°Our fight has ever been for the Emperor of Man, and His citizens. What was his fight for, and how badly did he lose it?¡±


    ¡°He only lost it because I was not there for him as I should have been, and his fight was more worthy than any you¡¯ll have the opportunity to serve in,¡± Bliss responded. ¡°Stand aside. I will not ask a third time.¡±


    I do not know if they stood aside, as my vision went dark again. One would have to ask Bliss herself, if one was so-inclined. I am led to believe that the bullish Wolves would not have backed down, not ones to ignore the chance to meet a challenge nor to ignore an opportunity to put an Inquisitor down and get away with it¡ªI could have just as easily died against Mortoc, after all, and that would have been a convincing lie to feed back to the Inquisition.


    The next time I awoke, I did so to autogun fire. I was no longer in Bliss¡¯s arms, and was instead laid down upon the grating of a metal catwalk. Bliss was some distance off to my left, at least when I came to, but she was moving quite a bit, weaving about as she defended our position from an onslaught from the Lost and the Damned. She was, as ever, a sight to behold, not merely for her beauty¡ªwhich was, even then, something I could not help but make note of¡ªbut also for her combat ability. How long, I wondered, had she been fighting for without rest? She showed no signs of slowing down, and fought as masterfully as she once had to save me on Aerialon during the Phaenonite affair. How perfect could a human being be when it came to murder? I could not imagine anyone better at it than Bliss Carmichael; frankly, I could not imagine Bliss¡¯s fighting ability if you asked me to.


    Eventually, an autogun landed next to me, thrown into the air by a foe slain by Bliss. Gradually, while Bliss killed untold numbers of enemies out of view, I wormed my way into gripping the weapon in my one good arm, though that brought me much pain due to the broken chest I still lugged around with me. I just about had it in my grasp when I spied two of the Lost and the Damned ascending a stairwell to reach our level of the catwalk, and I opened fire upon them. Before I could, though, two thin, grey, skull-emblazoned daggers embedded themselves in each of the temples of their heads, killing them instantly. I still shot their corpses up as they fell, not reacting in time to their demise to stay my trigger finger. Bliss had their front covered, just as she covered every other area of the battle.


    When the shooting stopped, and the final bodies hit the floor, Bliss walked back over to me and took the autogun out from my grasp before tossing it away, over the railing of the catwalk. ¡°You should be resting, Callant,¡± she chided me, provocatively descending upon me and moving her body up and against mine. She kept herself from touching my chest, though, which I much appreciated. ¡°I am sorry that this has gone the way it has. Please let me save you from this hell,¡± she said, her head hovering over mine. Glassy red orbs that obscured blood-red eyes glistened in my view. ¡°Please rest. You deserve better than to need to see all this.¡±


    I tried to reply to her, but failed to form the words, and in trying to speak, blacked out again. She got what she wanted, and cradled me in her arms once more, carrying me ever onward into hell.


    There were a third, fourth, and fifth time that I would awake, too. Each time involved a growing intensity of combat. When I awoke for the fourth bout of combat, I found Bliss¡¯s right arm to be cut open, blood spilling from a wound upon her already-blood soaked form. The fifth time I found her, one of her glass eyes had shattered and was nowhere to be found, revealing only her actual crimson eye where it once had rested.


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    The sixth time I awoke, Bliss was more thoroughly wounded that ever before. Dozens of nicks, scratches, and gashes emerged through her black synskin suit, and her breath was, for once, heavy. She was holding her forehead against mine, her head uncovered in full. ¡°Stay here, sweety,¡± she asked of me. She had rested me against the side of some partially-crumbled plascrete structure. The sound of a warzone was all around us. ¡°We¡¯re at the front lines. I need to leave to clear a path through them for us to take. Stay here. I¡¯ll be back,¡± she panted out, closing her eyes, heavily, for a moment.


    ¡°Bliss,¡± I managed, then fell into a coughing fit.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be OK, Callant, everything will be OK. I won¡¯t lose you. I won¡¯t let them take you from me too,¡± she replied, opening weary eyes to me before leaning forward and pecking my lips with her own. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, you owe me a drink of Gleece. You don¡¯t get to escape from a promise like that,¡± she reminded me, then painstakingly stood to her feet, a bit shaky for the first time in all the years I had known her. ¡°Oh, right. I need to borrow Drepane. I¡¯ll bring it back, promise,¡± she added, kneeling to me, and taking my blade. Last I had known, she was already wielding it, so she must have put it back in its holster while I was out. ¡°Be back before you know it,¡± she smiled as she next stood up, blew me a kiss, and then set off to do what she did best.


    I laid still for a few moments more, wondering when I would next lose consciousness. That, however, did not arrive so soon. Instead, a short while after Bliss left my side, another familiar face joined it, shuffling up to me through the dusty streets of a once-city of Jaegetri. ¡°How¡­are you here¡­Alex?¡± I managed before falling into coughing again.


    ¡°Easy. I¡¯m not,¡± Alex Cortino replied. The Guardsman I had spoken with shortly before my abduction now stood over me, unharmed despite being deep behind enemy lines. ¡°This one died in the assault that brought you to Valeran. But she seemed sufficiently at odds with you, so I figured she might be a fine visage for me to wield and make your acquaintance with.¡±


    ¡°Our¡­anos,¡± I croaked.


    ¡°Ah, not that `nos, I¡¯m afraid,¡± ¡®Alex¡¯ shook her head. I paused a moment, wondering what that meant, and then my eye widened as fear took hold. ¡°There it is, the moment of understanding. Been a long time, Blackgar, in that head of yours. You¡¯ve let yourself go, quite literally in fact. Where have your eye and arm gone? Shall I get them back for us?¡±


    ¡°Go¡­to hell¡­daemon,¡± I spat out.


    ¡°Is that not where we are already?¡± Cronos, speaking with Alex¡¯s voice, asked in reply. ¡°Tsk, tsk, Blackgar, you really should try to keep yourself in one piece. It won¡¯t be very much fun for me if you¡¯re too weak to fight back.¡±


    ¡°Get¡­out¡­of¡­my¡­head,¡± I groaned.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d love to. Not quite time for that yet, I¡¯m afraid,¡± it shrugged via Alex¡¯s shoulders. It then squatted down in front of me. ¡°Anyways, I just wanted to say hi. To pop in, and let you know I¡¯m keeping watch. Good on you for killing Valeran¡ªor getting him killed via your Agents, in any case. I look forward to your adventure against Ouranos.¡±


    ¡°What¡­is¡­your¡­relation¡­to¡­him?¡± I wheezed out.


    ¡°Rival, perhaps? He is a once-mortal Champion of the one we both serve; I, however, am a Prince of the Empyrean. We seek the same goal¡ªAnnihilation¡ªbut his path is not mine. You know, Blackgar, I meant what I said about getting your body parts back. Say the word, and I will heal you and make you stronger than you could know.¡±


    ¡°What you offer¡­is not strength¡­but impotence,¡± I denied it.


    ¡°Mmm, contempt. We shall see how long that lasts,¡± Cronos grinned before rising to stand once more. As it did so, an Astartes approached me¡ªanother of the traitor Iron Warriors. The Astartes said nothing, but looked me over once before levying its Bolter to me and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened, and in slow, subtle movements, the Astartes began reloading the clip of its weapon. I would have thought they, like myself, would have been able to intrinsically know when their firearms were empty, but perhaps this Astartes lacked that training or augmetic informatics. ¡°Which of us has the mind to kill him, do you think?¡± Cronos asked me, tapping Alex¡¯s head toward the Iron Warrior. ¡°You up to it? Or should I take over?¡±


    I said nothing.


    ¡°Gotta hurry and make your choice, Blackgar; much as he¡¯s savoring your ineptitude, he¡¯s not that slow at this,¡± Cronos insisted. He then broke out into laughing, still as Alex, whose laugh I had not until then heard. ¡°Just kidding. I don¡¯t need you to make the choice. I¡¯ve made it for you before, what with all those annoying Orks. You just get some rest, as that voluptuous slaughterhouse of yours so-insisted. We¡¯ll speak again, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    When Bliss did eventually return, she found me slumped on my side, almost delirious, and waning in and out of consciousness. She herself was more severely wounded than she had last left me, but nevertheless wasted no time in scooping me back into her arms, my remaining power armor and all. She began to carry me away, giving me assurances that all would be well. Moments before leaving the scene altogether, she turned around, and saw naught but dust blowing in the wind. She paid it no mind.


    I blacked out again shortly thereafter.

 Chapter 93 - Oath

    Two red eyes hung over me the seventh time I awoke. They were not Bliss¡¯s and reinforcing that point was the fact that blond hair drooped around the edges of my view, where Bliss¡¯s was black. ¡°Callant? Are you with me?¡± Castecael asked, shining a light in my view.


    ¡°I am,¡± I managed to squeeze out, then broke into another cough. Castecael pulled her face away from mine as I gagged and wheezed on dry air. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°No worries, it¡¯s to be expected from someone with a sternum half-collapsed,¡± she answered. ¡°You may not be able to see us all, but we are all here. Everyone, keep your distance, please,¡± Castecael insisted of the group of my fellows that surrounded me. I could, in fact, see most of them, at least in part, even though I did not have much head movement. Most of my crew was wounded, at least among the ground operatives. Zha and Castecael appeared to be unharmed. Lucene appeared to be the most harmed, covered in bloodied bandages¡ªa sight I had not seen of her since our battles on Hestia Majoris. There was, however, one of my retinue missing.


    ¡°Luther?¡± I asked, fearing the worst. And indeed, many heads¡ªincluding Silas¡¯s¡ªfell toward the ground.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t make it, Cal,¡± Mirena replied. ¡°He took his Strike teams and the Harakoni on a mission to take out that giant, awful cannon thing. It was heavily guarded, but they took it and held it.¡±


    ¡°They served with honor and died in glory,¡± Galen confirmed. ¡°I arrived to it too late¡ªthese Iron bastards had a pair of corrupted Knights of their own that slowed me down. I found few survivors among the Harakoni. Luther, I believe, died in the defense of their position.¡±


    I was seething, and I was in no state of being to do so. It hurt to be as angry as I was, then. I did my best to focus on the silver lining, that Luther Vaigg found a most glorious, worthy, and deserving end, and that he, unlike what would come of us in time, was undoubtedly sitting at the Emperor¡¯s table in the afterlife. Surely one such as he would be of tremendous value to the Emperor in the End Times. That, then, was a blessing, but it did little to quell the rage of his loss in the here and now.


    ¡°Silas,¡± I muttered then, recognizing that my Scion undoubtedly felt the same pain I was feeling, even if without the broken chest. Silas lifted his head up, revealing two streaks of tears to me. I gestured for him to approach me, and when he did so, I raised my biological hand to him. He took it, holding me by my arm, and I held him likewise. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Silas.¡±


    ¡°So am I, Cal, so am I,¡± he whimpered. ¡°You¡¯re like a brother to me, and I think you think the same of me. So you know, then, that they were as unto my children, of a kind. And I¡¯ve lost all three of them, now,¡± he sobbed, pressing his head into the side of my pillow atop my medicae unit. Czevia Gao. Xavier Gradshi. Luther Vaigg. Silas¡¯s three expert operatives, hand-picked by the two of us, managed and trained solely by him. All dead. Had we failed them? Or had we succeeded in making them soldiers competent enough to know what to die for? Or both?


    ¡°Too many you and I have lost, my brother,¡± I agreed, also crying. For many in the room, it was the first time they had seen a tear shed from me. ¡°Far, far too many. I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I repeated. I then address the room while continuing to hold on to Silas. ¡°I sense we¡¯re still on Jaegetri¡¯s surface.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Zha confirmed. ¡°We, uh, we don¡¯t know what happened with you. We don¡¯t know if Mortoc¡¯s still alive, if the mission is complete, or what. She hasn¡¯t revealed anything, and has refused to speak,¡± Zha explained, tapping her head forward. I realized then that indeed, my twice-savior was not within view. From Zha¡¯s head-tap, I knew that Bliss was situated somewhere behind me.


    ¡°She has also refused medicae aid, despite clearly needing it,¡± Castecael muttered.


    ¡°And to leave your side,¡± Mirena added, looking past me and likely into Bliss¡¯s eyes. ¡°But, well, at least she hasn¡¯t stabbed anyone with those daggers. That I know of.¡±


    ¡°I see. Mortoc is dead. Bliss killed him in front of me and then extracted me from captivity. We should exfiltrate from this world as soon as possible, then engage the Exterminatus. Until then, Lucene, how are you holding up?¡± I asked my wife.


    Lucene grinned, a pained gesture for her, but shrugged. The shrug also appeared to be pained. ¡°I am fine, Cal, thank you for asking.¡±


    ¡°Lucene is not fine and has suffered severe damage to her cybernetic ports,¡± Castecael corrected. ¡°As have most of her Sisters.¡±


    ¡°I am fine enough to stand, and therefore fine enough to serve,¡± Lucene retorted.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard this one before from you and your husband,¡± Castecael grumbled. ¡°Obstinate sods, both of you. Speaking of which, Callant, you have¡ªagain¡ªsuffered grievous trauma. You should not move much for two weeks while the augmetic reinforcing plate I¡¯ve installed in your chest settles in. And I mean it. Please do not move within two weeks. If that plating slips, it could very well stab into your heart and kill you in an instant.¡±


    ¡°For once, Castecael, I¡¯m not much inclined to go anywhere,¡± I admitted. ¡°You have my word. I¡¯m happy to take a two-week nap.¡±


    ¡°Cal, I am far more thrilled than I look to be hearing that at last,¡± Castecael replied, heaving out a sigh of relief. ¡°Thank you. Everyone else, we should give him some space to recover. And I mean everyone,¡± Castecael insisted, turning to Bliss¡¯s as yet-unseen position behind me.


    ¡°Glad to have you back, Cal,¡± Silas muttered, squeezed my arm more tightly a moment, and then took his leave alongside Zha and Galen.


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    ¡°Lucene, stay a moment,¡± I called as Mirena left by Castecael¡¯s side, albeit not before blowing me a kiss herself.


    ¡°You and I, my dear, have much to discuss. And when your chest can take it, much love to make to overrule the trauma of this whole damnable ordeal,¡± Lucene explained with a wink. ¡°But, for now, I think you owe your savior a word or two first. I think she¡¯s earned that much. She¡¯s my savior, too, this time around. Be well, my love,¡± Lucene wished for me, and then left me on my own with the Callidus Assassin behind me.


    ¡°Bliss,¡± I muttered, and had intended to thank her, but did not get the chance before she moved over my head from my rear and flattened my lips under hers. Given our positioning, I found myself with a front-row view of her chest, which I think was probably her intent; she ever knew how to wield herself to toy with the feelings of the men and women around her. I will admit, I had no idea how long she kissed me for. It could have been a minute or two, or an hour or two. I only know that when our lips did part, I was out of breath. ¡°Thank¡­you,¡± I muttered, thanking her for saving me, not for the kiss. She, however, giggled, recognizing that out of context, I may have been thanking her for the kiss.


    ¡°Anytime, Callant. Both saving you and kissing you, I¡¯m down for either one at any time,¡± she said, giggling to herself before taking a seat on my medicae unit where Silas¡¯s head had been to my side. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry. This is all my fault.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is,¡± I agreed, and her eyes widened as her face flushed. I think she expected some of my usual compassion and not so much of my candor. But I had a bone to pick with her, my savior or not. ¡°What are you to me, Bliss?¡±


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t understand the question, Callant,¡± she admitted, flustered.


    ¡°What are you to me? Because you¡¯re not loyal. But you¡¯re also not my enemy. In one moment you¡¯re betraying me and getting me ruined and seeing my Agents killed, but in the next you¡¯re saving my life,¡± I explained, and Bliss got off my medicae unit, embarrassed and hurt. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for all of this. Mortoc is mostly to blame and I thank you for giving him what he deserved. But do I hold you partly responsible for my wounds? Yes. Do I hold you partly responsible for Luther¡¯s death? Yes. I could have wielded you and avoided all this mess. Bliss, I cannot have an Agent that is unwilling to listen to my orders. And you don¡¯t have to be my Agent; you¡¯re an Inquisitor too, you can go and do as you please. But I need to know what you want to be, now, and forever after. I thought you wanted this, once. I¡¯m not so sure anymore.¡±


    Bliss looked on at me, sorrowful and as deeply wounded as I felt. She was still covered in physical wounds, too, some of which¡ªalbeit not many¡ªwere still open and bleeding slightly. But the wounds I inflicted upon her, then, were far from physical, but nevertheless painful. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly for a few moments, and when she opened them again she took my hand up in hers and knelt down to my side. She then kissed my open palm before saying, ¡°Callant Blackgar, I hereby swear myself to you. If you wish to kill me, I will let you. If you mean me harm, I shall suffer it, as I will bear any burden that may otherwise weigh upon you. I will die for you, and I will live for you. Under penalty of torment and death, I am yours, howsoever you will have me.¡±


    ¡°Coming from you, that last bit almost seems to bear a sexual connotation,¡± I muttered.


    She giggled, rose to her feet again, and relinquished my hand from her grasp, then leaned down to my right ear. ¡°Almost? Seems to?¡± she whispered, giggling to herself again. Then she righted herself once more. ¡°Anything you want of me, Callant, I will deliver henceforth. Even as may concern the bodily vices. I pledge myself to you as I have the Throne; my body is forfeit and meaningless in your vicinity, as in His. I am so sorry, Callant Blackgar, for all this shit I have brought upon you. I will live the rest of my days doing anything and everything I can to help you, howsoever you need.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s all a bit dramatic,¡± I grunted, earning a wider smile from her. ¡°But¡­it¡¯s good that you¡¯ve pledged yourself so, as I have a favor to ask of you that I can ask of no other,¡± I began.


    ¡°Anything you need, Callant,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°Curb your enthusiasm,¡± I warned her. ¡°You say anything that I need, that you¡¯ve pledged your life to me. Well, if I needed you to end my life, would you?¡±


    ¡°Please, Callant, what nonsense is this?¡± she asked, rolling her eyes.


    ¡°I had much the same reaction when I heard the news,¡± I acknowledged, managing a grin. ¡°Open your mind to me, and give me an arm with which to tether to you, and I shall show you,¡± I explained, raising my arm up again. She took it at once, and with equal haste, I showed her everything. My meeting with Lords Caliman and van der Skar, from which I learned of Cronos for the first time. My dreams of Ouranos and the conversation I shared with him and Mortoc. My encounter with Cronos in the streets of Jaegetri. I revealed every last secret I had about the broader situation to her, and when I had finally finished, she backed away from me, bewildered and horrified. Each of our arms were steaming, sizzling in the heat of my psykana, while she paced about the room, around me.


    ¡°No, I¡­I can¡¯t¡­I won¡¯t¡­why?¡± she asked at last, clenching her fists in front of her face like a boxer would shield themselves. ¡°Why the frig is it us? I love you! Why does it have to be us? Why can¡¯t there be one nice damned thing in the whole frigging galaxy? It¡¯s not fair!¡±


    ¡°No, Bliss, it isn¡¯t,¡± I agreed. ¡°You and I both drew short ends of the stick. But we should have known that when we agreed to become Inquisitors. Answer my question. Will you kill me when I need you to?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡­I¡­I¡­,¡± she stammered, trying to make sense of it all. She then threw herself across the room to me, where she planted her fists on either side of my head and loomed herself over me. Her face contorted in equal parts fury, sorrow, love, and pain, her expressions never quite settling on anything for long. ¡°But I love you,¡± she protested in a whisper.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    She closed her eyes over me for a while then, but did not remove her fists from either side of my head. When next her eyes opened, tears were welling up in them. ¡°I will do anything you need of me, Callant Blackgar. Even if you need me to kill you. But before I do, I will do everything in my power to save you. Only when there¡¯s no alternative will I¡­will I¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Bliss,¡± I agreed. ¡°That will do.¡±


    ¡°Damn Cronos,¡± she hissed. ¡°Damn Ouranos, damn every last frigging one of them. I will rip them all to shreds to save us, to give us a chance to be together,¡± she offered, then laughed. ¡°That¡¯s the grand plan for me, right? Live long enough for the line to move from Lucene, to Mirena, to me, and to keep you alive all the while. And Throne, when it gets to me, I¡¯m never letting go of you,¡± she admitted, laughing again. Her laughter, like every other facet of her, was beautiful, so perfectly lovely to hear. Even in this dark and terrible conversation, despite the doom and gloom, her laughter brought a grin to my face, and, eventually, a laugh of my own.


    Together, with her, perhaps there was room for some bliss in this damned galaxy after all.

 Chapter 94 - Reconciliation

    It was three days before we left Jaegetri. Seven when Cyclonic Torpedoes bombarded the planet¡¯s surface, blowing the rotten, dusty world to smithereens, never a tear to be shed for its loss. Ten when, finally, Castecael gave me permission to leave the medicae unit, on the condition that I stay laying down. Until then, both Lucene and Bliss had stayed by my side in perpetuity, neither one wanting or capable of removing the other. It impressed me, frankly, how two who loved me as much as they did were willing to guard me together, without any sense of jealousy or concern between them. They both genuinely wanted whatever was best for me, and their being at odds with each other would have been far from it.


    Nevertheless, when those ten days were up, Lucene took me to our shared quarters, and for the time being I would not see Bliss again. Lucene brought me food and fed me, she laid with me and prayed with me. She did everything with me, and I cannot begin to describe how grateful I was for it all. Thanks to Lucene, I cannot say my bedridden days were boring, and even with such company, I still found ample time for reflection and contemplation. And I had much to contemplate and reflect upon.


    On the thirteenth day of my recovery, Astropathic communication had been established with the Dawnshadow, and we were recalled to Quintus for debriefing. Indeed, though Quintus itself was a compromised location for the Inquisitorial starfort, it remained strategically placed within the Ixaniad Sector and still had resources and personnel to extract from the world proper. It would be some time yet before a replacement world for the Dawnshadow to hide behind would be chosen and moved to. And even still, the war for Ixaniad was still being raged; while we had pierced through to the enemy¡¯s stronghold, many of their forces remained in our Sector, where they would undoubtedly be hunted down and pursued by Inquisition operatives for decades longer. It might be a task I saw need to oversee as well.


    On the fourteenth day of my recovery, when I was finally allowed to rise to my feet¡ªwith Castecael¡¯s supervision¡ªI gave the order to initiate Warp Translation. There had been some delay on my part in that regard; though we had obliterated Jaegetri, sorting out the logistics of our fleet¡ªin making sure all surviving personnel were on the ships they should have been¡ªwas still being finalized. It was during those final hours, then, that I found my newly-mobile way to the single, circular viewport of my quarters, beholding the shattered world of Jaegetri one final time. I would not, in my lifetime, see its remnants ever again. I wanted not for my view to be afflicted so, henceforth, but at the time the rocky chunks that were once a stronghold of heresy served as a grim reminder of the sum total of suffering and loss that it had taken to vanquish such profanity. And yet, among the many, many enemies of mine that haunted me still, the words of Valeran Mortoc stood out most prominent. Still, he questioned my faith, even postmortem. Or perhaps that was Cronos speaking through the voice of another of the dead; I could not say.


    Regardless, Lucene, as ever, offered me an opportunity of clarity. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind, Cal?¡± she asked me from my rear, approaching me while I stared out the viewport.


    ¡°All too much, these days, I¡¯m afraid,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°May I ease that burden for you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯d like to,¡± I nodded, grinning, though she could not have seen my facial expression.


    ¡°Of course,¡± she agreed. ¡°Do share, Cal; I am here for you, always.¡±


    ¡°The truth,¡± I replied, then shook my head. ¡°And whose truth is true. Your time on Jaegetri¡­it was hard, I know that, though you have not yet shared with me what you experienced firsthand. I can only assume that to peer into the Darkness so deeply has afflicted you with the questioning of Faith.¡±


    ¡°Not so much, no,¡± Lucene admitted with a shrug.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Really. To see Shadows of such a depth is to know that a great Light casts them. If anything, it has reinforced my belief in our cause being righteous and worthy. I suspect this assurance will not help you, though; for all your sanctity, doubt has ever wracked your mind,¡± Lucene acknowledged.


    ¡°That¡¯s more accurate than you can know,¡± I agreed with a snorting laugh. ¡°My faith was questioned. Directly. And now I question whether any choice I have made has ever been the right one.¡±


    ¡°Cal, the enemy is dead, are they not? And we are here to strike out against the next foe, Ouranos or otherwise. Your choices have brought divine fury to bear against the enemies of the Imperium; how can such decisions be made in error?¡± Lucene insisted.


    ¡°What if being here, being what we are, is the wrong choice?¡± I asked her. I was not about to tell her about Cronos, both because I did not know what she might think of me, personally, in our relationship; and because I did not know how her Ecclesiarchical background might insist she act upon that knowledge. The Inquisition wanted me, and therefore Cronos, alive. But the Inquisition was not the Ecclesiarchy. Instead, I substituted a similar denigration of our shared existence in Cronos¡¯s place. ¡°This timelessness of ours. We are corrupted, all of us. Is a heretic a heretic for what they are, or for what they do? Valeran Mortoc did what he did to find and eliminate Ouranos, as we do. And sure, in his efforts he made an enemy of an Imperial Sector and the Inquisition. But many would-be loyalists have done the same; we¡¯ve been at war with the Space Wolves in the past, after all. Is Mortoc more of a heretic than a Wolf? Is he more of a heretic than we are? What if he isn¡¯t? What is our response to ourselves?¡±


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    Lucene was silent for several moments, then; a rarity in our philosophical arguments and discourse. She was often possessed of a wit with which to have the right response or counterpoint to anything I posed to her. But not then, not immediately. In fact, a response only came when she gingerly raised a hand to one of my shoulders, drawing my attention from the viewport of the shattered world beyond to her lovely visage instead, where I stared silently at her for a moment more before she answered me. She was dressed in a red and black body-tight gown, adorned in the colors of her order. ¡°Callant Blackgar, you are no heretic. Ever you achieve greater victories, and ever you think lesser of yourself afterward. As your wife as much as your shield and sword, this uncertain and vacillating reasoning must end. I would not love you as I do if I thought you a monster; no, everything you have ever done has been to the betterment of the Holy Imperium. You once told me that you were not a hero, and in that perhaps you were right. But our Imperium has heroes enough; you are the bane of our foes, as every one that has crossed you has been destroyed, wholly and utterly. And if this is not the cause of our Holy War, I ask you then, what is?¡±


    ¡°That is some reassurance, then, that what I do defines whether I am righteous or fallen. But it does not address the discrepancy we¡¯re faced with others; why are the Wolves loyal, and Mortoc heretical? Biases based in what Mortoc has done to us personally aside, Mortoc was on the same path we are. He might have hated Ouranos even more than we do,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Cal, I do not know what transpired on your end of things, either. So I do not know what Mortoc may have told you or what you may have gleamed from his mind. But what would Mortoc have done after killing Ouranos? I cannot imagine such a long-term goal would have been beneficial to others beyond himself and his soldiers, not as yours are, and not as the Wolves claim. We fight for the whole of our Imperium; Mortoc¡ªI assume¡ªfought for a factionalized amalgam of villainous heresies. Sure, there may have been a¡ªbrief¡ªintersection of paths between us, but that does not make us heretical, nor him reverential,¡± Lucene answered.


    ¡°Ever the voice of reason,¡± I sighed, admonished. ¡°Perhaps one of these days I¡¯ll start listening to it instead of my own.¡±


    ¡°Well, wouldn¡¯t that be something,¡± Lucene laughed, raising her hand from my shoulder to a cheek of my face. I leaned into her grasp, finding her, as ever, soft and warm. Easy to rest upon. Easy to lose oneself with. But in that regard, on the subject of losing oneself, I arrived at another conversation I needed to have with her. She, meanwhile, furthered her grasp of my head, bringing her other hand into the fold and pulling me against her body proper.


    ¡°I will need to ask a favor of you, and of our relationship,¡± I told her after a time spent in her embrace, while she patted the crown of my head.


    ¡°You intend on another vacation with Mirena,¡± Lucene asserted, still coddling me in her arms. ¡°You¡¯ve already told me that, and the war is won, now. Go ahead. Mayhap she will even clean some mud from your mind for me.¡±


    ¡°I actually was referring to Bliss,¡± I admitted. ¡°Though yes, in some time Mirena will likely try to steal me off on another flight with her somewhere. Whenever our affairs are in order aboard the Dawnshadow, I should think.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Well, what of Bliss, then?¡±


    ¡°I had promised her a night¡¯s drink.¡±


    ¡°Is that all?¡±


    I barked out a laugh, then pushed myself away from Lucene. Even so, she kept me in her grasp, her arms wrapped over my shoulders and her hands upon my middle back. ¡°I should hardly think that, where concerns someone like Bliss, there would ever be something ¡®all¡¯ about any time with her.¡±


    ¡°A longer night, alcohol, someone like Bliss¡­do you imagine it could get sexual between you two?¡± Lucene wondered.


    ¡°I imagine it is a possibility,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Well good, maybe someone else would smash some sense into you if Mirena can¡¯t,¡± Lucene grinned.


    ¡°That is far from the response I expected,¡± I replied, eye widened. ¡°And while I want to explore the nature of that response, what about you? Aren¡¯t you and I¡­isn¡¯t the ¡®smashing¡¯ more your role?¡±


    ¡°It is, and I will try a hand at it. Though not today; you have only just gotten to your feet and I imagine Castecael would frown upon us if I were to begin dancing upon your chest so soon,¡± Lucene answered, chuckling.


    ¡°I appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll come to appreciate it much more soon enough, dearest,¡± she assured me. ¡°But as to Bliss, I do not desire¡ªnor believe I possess¡ªa monopoly upon your will or your body. We are wed, yes, but it would be unwise to assume that I can, at every hour of every day, be who you need at a moment¡¯s notice. Indeed, I gather this wisdom from Mirena, who upon her exit from her Inquisitorial penance found that her lover, Castecael, was insufficient for her needs, and turned to you afterward.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t spend time with others because you don¡¯t satisfy me, Lucene,¡± I clarified.


    ¡°I know,¡± she laughed before pulling me close to her again, albeit never so tightly as to risk harming my recently-settled chest. ¡°That wasn¡¯t quite my point. The care you need, Callant, is less physical and more psychological. And while I am always right, being right isn¡¯t everything. You are a multicolored man¡ªas I suspect many are¡ªand value differing outlooks more greatly than several of your peers. I know you spend time with Mirena, for instance, for a breath of fresh air from Imperial dogma and zealotry, yet you always come back to me all the same. I value this in you greatly, as it evidences not only your continued to loyalty to our shared cause, but also your groundedness to greater Mankind. I would not wish to get in the way of that.¡±


    ¡°And in that, I believe you are quite unique for your kind, Lucene,¡± I chuckled. ¡°Thank you. It will be some time, yet, before I accompany Bliss¡­err¡­however she needs. I will want to check in and debrief at Quintus first. So you have me until then.¡±


    ¡°And I intend to put you to good use during that time, too. When you¡¯re ready,¡± she grinned, stepping back and pulling me with her toward our bed. I obliged, and joined her in the play, gentle as it was, that she had been hinting at desiring. Warp Translation followed soon thereafter, and our nightmares at Jaegetri were left in the dust behind the betterment of our lives.


    It had been M41.977 when Mortoc staged his attack on New Cealis, initiating this terrible war with the Inquisition and the Ixaniad Sector in the process. It was in M41.979 that the perpetrators of that war were, quite literally, decapitated. But the great war, the one of which Mortoc and I had spoken of transpiring beyond the confines of Jaegetri, was the sort that does not end. We may have been bloodied, broken, and diminished in number from our scrap with the Iron Warriors, but our fight was far from over. Only in death does duty end.


    Whether we believed in it or not, that death was fast approaching.

 Chapter 95 - Armament

    ¡°Is it done?¡± Straight to business as usual, bypassing any customary greeting. I was used to it; I had reported to Lord Inquisitor Halloid van der Skar often enough in my many decades of service to the Imperium. This question was given as I opened the door to his office, before I had even gotten a good view of him or otherwise set foot inside.


    ¡°It is,¡± I confirmed, looking him over. For much of my life, I had thought van der Skar my senior, and greatly at that, but he had never appeared to be old. He did, then. He was haggard, his skin taut, hair frail, and his eyes sunk deeper into his skull than when I had last known him mere months ago. ¡°Sir, are you¡­?¡± I began, but was unsure what I meant to ask.


    ¡°Old? Yes. Dying? Also yes,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Come in, Callant. Take a seat. And I see you¡¯ve brought an extra,¡± he noticed, glancing up at me for the first time by then, seeing I had brought Massino Varnus with me into this meeting, my techsorcist ally otherwise uninvited. I suspected, though, that van der Skar would not turn him away. My suspicion was validated as Varnus and I sat before my superior without issue. ¡°Welcome, both of you. To address your concern more directly, I die by choice, and by accident.¡±


    ¡°That is hardly direct,¡± I admitted. van der Skar managed a grin.


    ¡°I have ceased taking the rejuvenat. My choice. The accident was a leak of coolant water during one of many battles the Dawnshadow weathered. Radiological contamination. Curable, of course, but¡­I think it¡¯s nearly time to go anyway. And I am, on account of my role, unlikely to find a battle of any particular note in which to die, so I may as well be chalked up as another victim of this Siege of Ixaniad,¡± he explained.


    ¡°I¡¯ll miss you,¡± I nodded solemnly. Varnus had no response, ever observing his surroundings, and the people in them, in silent curiosity.


    ¡°And I you. You have made a fine Inquisitor; no, more than fine. Good, even,¡± he smirked. ¡®Good¡¯ was high praise from van der Skar, and I sense he intended sarcasm, hiding the extent of his praise. ¡°But enough platitudes. Mortoc is dead, truly? You can confirm this?¡±


    ¡°He died before my eye, yes,¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°Excellent. Operation complete, then. I understand you eliminated Jaegetri from the star charts as well?¡± he asked, and I nodded with a hint of eagerness. ¡°Acceptable. No strategic loss to us, and the removal of a viable staging ground from future possible foes.¡±


    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°I understand you took some losses, as well as personal injury. You¡¯re lucky to be alive,¡± van der Skar noted.


    ¡°I am,¡± I agreed again, adding a nod to my response.


    ¡°Well, perhaps we can look to hedge the odds further in your favor,¡± van der Skar suggested before reaching under his desk and procuring the Rosarius that had once belonged to Lord Caliman. The adamantium cross made a low thud as van der Skar placed it on his desk between us, after which he nudged it a bit closer to me. I took it into my grasp after a hint of hesitation, where I stared at the relic bequeathed unto my charge. It was as it had been some weeks ago, a black cross and skull with four crimson rubies embedded in a simple, round plating at the necklace¡¯s backing, each located between the cross¡¯s cardinals.


    After a few moments of thinking about my former rival, about the fear he had had for me, I glanced up to Lord van der Skar. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Blackgar, for your service. Now, what¡¯s this about, then?¡± he asked, a weary finger dancing between pointing at Varnus and me. I, meanwhile, donned the necklace. ¡°It looks good on you,¡± van der Skar muttered in a quiet jest.


    ¡°The acquisition of arms sufficient for the complete destruction of the enemy,¡± Varnus answered van der Skar¡¯s initial question, with phraseology he had often wielded in my presence to boot.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that one before,¡± van der Skar grumbled, indicating that he, too, had fallen victim to prior usage of Varnus¡¯s phrase. ¡°You¡¯re an Inquisitor, Blackgar. Despite such a position, are you finding some difficulty finding the required armaments?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes,¡± I shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re still in wartime. A lot of resources are being spent on our continued fighting against the Iron Warriors in the Sector. And reserves are kept under lock and key, even by our standards, lest another of our enemies arrive to seize the opportunity posed by the distraction offered by the traitor-Astartes.¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± van der Skar sighed, rummaging about his desk to pull out a tablet which had dozens of documents pinned upon it. I imagined it was his requisitions list.


    ¡°The acquisition of arms sufficient¡ª¡± Varnus began, but I interjected as van der Skar raised an unamused eyebrow.


    ¡°Boltpistols, or full Bolters¡ªalbeit with augmetic reinforcements accompanying them. 31 units, perhaps 2,000 rounds of ammunition. One for each Sororitas and Tempestus Scion under my command, as well as me myself,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Scions do not typically wield Bolt munitions,¡± van der Skar noted.


    ¡°No, they do not. I want mine to. And I want these weapons and each individual Bolt properly sanctified and warded against the dark powers,¡± I furthered. ¡°I also want eight Plasma Pistols, likewise sanctified and warded, and four Meltaguns, ideally Accatran pattern, also sanctified and warded.¡±


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    ¡°Do you want any tanks?¡± van der Skar grumbled.


    ¡°Well, we still have our Chimera, but I wouldn¡¯t mind a Leman Russ or two if you have some to spare,¡± I admitted. van der Skar looked up to me, dryly, expecting a grin or some sign of sarcasm from me. But I was deadly serious.


    ¡°What is this for, Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°The acquisition of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ouranos,¡± I answered over my techsorcist again. ¡°I spoke with him.¡±


    ¡°You what?¡± van der Skar asked, putting his tablet down upon his desk and looking at me proper. ¡°You may have led with that.¡±


    ¡°He is dangerous. That much we already knew. I will take no chances with him. I would appreciate the cooperation to follow suit,¡± I explained, folding my arms. I then lifted my augmetic hand up, drawing attention to it. ¡°I also have some ideas in mind for changes to my bionic equipment, here.¡±


    ¡°Changes like what?¡±


    ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar has requested a high-yield miniaturized explosive be implanted in his arm, with silvered shrapnel. We believe Ouranos consorts with the daemonic. Hence the silvering, the sanctifying, and the warding,¡± Varnus explained.


    ¡°Is that so,¡± van der Skar muttered, looking me straight in the eyes. He knew at once that the explosive device I requested was not meant for Ouranos, even if I had¡ªconvincingly¡ªdictated as such to my techsorcist. ¡°You understand the odds of survival for a victim of such a contraption would be slim.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± I confirmed.


    van der Skar looked on at me for a few moments more, then nodded solemnly before turning back to my techsorcist. ¡°And of this theoretical design for a replacement bionic appendage, are there other changes you would make?¡±


    ¡°There are,¡± Varnus reported. ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar has expressed an interest in trading utility for raw firepower. To this end, the mechanism that renders the hand into a projectile will be foregone for greater munition storage inside the forearm. We desire to increase the firing capacity of the bionic from wielding a single Bolt to being able to eliminate enemies with a trio of Psybolts, each augmented by our Inquisitor¡¯s capable mind,¡± he explained, gesturing to me in the process. ¡°This would, of course, require consulting the Ordo Malleus for the acquisition of such armaments, and the design I have in mind could be reloaded at will, so more than three such Bolts would be a most welcome addition to our reserves.¡±


    ¡°I will put you in touch with a techsorcist I know of that aids Malleus on occasion,¡± van der Skar agreed, bouncing the responsibility of this pursuit back unto us. But the aid was welcome all the same. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±


    ¡°I want Sergeant Astal and his Squad,¡± I declared at once.


    van der Skar coughed for a moment while he swallowed that one down. ¡°The Red Hunters traditionally answer only to Inquisitor Lords¡ª¡± he began, but I interrupted him.


    ¡°Of which you are one. So you can command them to heed my commands,¡± I asserted. ¡°Halloid, when Ouranos reveals himself in the flesh, our response cannot be held back by politics and tradition. It must be furious, tactical, and instant most of all. I recognize I ask for a broad spectrum of specific things, some of them rare and valuable, but the individual quantity of what I seek is not so great. I seek only the specifics of what I believe I need to eradicate this foe,¡± I explained.


    ¡°I will ask Astal if he is willing to abide your call,¡± van der Skar decided. ¡°But I will not mandate he do so, merely float the question. Is this agreeable for you?¡±


    ¡°It is regrettable, but yes,¡± I decided, my zeal deflated a bit.


    My zeal was further diminished with van der Skar¡¯s follow-up. ¡°If you have no further material requisitions requests, I have orders for you, Blackgar, in addition to your pursuit of Ouranos. I want you here, on the Dawnshadow,¡± where we can keep an eye on you, I inferred. ¡°Oversee the facility¡¯s repairs as well as the evacuation of personnel from Quintus. I also want you in on further strategic operations meetings to bring this war with the Iron Warriors to a close. When this war is over, your leash will be cut.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± I agreed without hesitation, disappointing though it was. And most of all, these orders would likely have delayed my ¡®vacation¡¯ with Mirena. Speaking of which¡­


    ¡°You intend to treat your retinue to a breather from the fighting, including taking that pilot of yours out for a flight amidst the stars,¡± van der Skar poignantly observed. ¡°Understandable, and recommended. Take this time aboard the Dawnshadow to lick your wounds and grieve, and when your service in this war is concluded, stretch your legs, and prepare for the next one. You and your own will need to be in peak readiness, of both your physical and mental faculties, for what¡¯s to come. And I will not be there, likely, to see you through it. You will need to guide yourself to victory, soon,¡± he explained.


    ¡°Do you have a successor lined up to take your place?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°I do not.¡±


    ¡°Then who will I be reporting to when you¡¯re gone?¡±


    ¡°You will not,¡± he said, simple and flat. I blinked twice and cocked my head to the side, taking that in. I wondered if that meant, as Ouranos had oft-described, that my end approached as well. van der Skar did not clarify in that regard when next he spoke. ¡°I have nothing more for you now, if you wish to return to your duties.¡±


    ¡°Will I be seeing you again?¡± I asked.


    van der Skar opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated. ¡°Excuse us, techsorcist,¡± he called to Varnus. ¡°Unless there are other details to your¡­acquisitions that need addressing.¡±


    ¡°There are not. May the Omnissiah watch over you both,¡± Varnus declared, bidding us farewell as he rose from his chair to leave van der Skar¡¯s office.


    ¡°Be sure to stop by before you take that pilot of yours for a flight. I will not be here when you return,¡± van der Skar told me when Varnus had left. ¡°I will wish to bid you farewell.¡±


    ¡°It seems this source of yours knows the chronology of my life quite well,¡± I observed.


    ¡°Perhaps it is a life worth knowing,¡± van der Skar grinned. ¡°Blackgar¡­there is a blackness coming. Not just for you, but for the whole of the Imperium. It will be very obvious of what I speak when it arrives. It will take men and women of your caliber to lead others into the light again. I know you think you have a lot on your plate now, and you do, but your test is far from its fiercest. That is yet to come. Be ready for it.¡±


    ¡°I intend to be,¡± I assured him. ¡°For now, as part of that readiness, I need to ensure the stability of my crew, and to that end, I owe one of them a drink.¡±


    ¡°Well you best get out of here, then, and enjoy that drink,¡± van der Skar grinned. ¡°Give her my regards.¡±


    ¡°Her, sir?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to have insight about the future to know you speak of Carmichael, Blackgar,¡± van der Skar laughed. ¡°Are you and she¡­reconciled?¡±


    ¡°I believe so, but that is what I need to go make sure of,¡± I nodded, and rose from my own seat. ¡°Thank you, Halloid. For everything. It has been an honor and a pleasure to serve with you these past few decades.¡±


    ¡°Likewise. The Emperor protects.¡±

 Chapter 96 - Harmony

    I hesitated at knocking on the door of Bliss¡¯s quarters. I did not know why¡ªwas I hesitant to suffer the horrors she had taunted me with? Doubtful; I could not imagine they could have been worse any worse than those found in Abseradon. Was it, then, that I did not want to get too close to her? Also doubtful¡ªI enjoyed her company greatly, and owed her my life twice over. Whatever the source of my hesitation, Bliss snapped me back into action by calling out from her quarters, ¡°You going to knock or just stand there all evening like an idiot?¡±


    ¡°Does that mean I should enter?¡± I asked the monolithic plate of metal that was her door. How she had sensed me there, despite my inaction, I did not know. Perhaps she heard my footsteps approach and recognized their cadence; that seemed the most likely to me.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she answered, and I did so. Upon my entry, I recoiled at once not from smell but from sight, and only from having been taken aback by the brute simplicity of her abode. ¡°Welcome, Callant,¡± she said, smiling as the door shut behind me.


    ¡°Your place is¡­kind of cramped,¡± I noted, bluntly, while standing up to her. Indeed, there was not much elbow room; it may have been more accurate to call her choice of residence a closet with a small bed in it as opposed to a living quarters. And aside that bed had been placed a small dining table, with a bottle of Gleece sitting upon it. Nothing else, no furniture or items of note, was present in Bliss¡¯s closet of a home.


    ¡°Oh, shoot, I¡¯m sorry, yes. It is. Sorry, I didn¡¯t really think of it much,¡± she fretted.


    ¡°You¡¯re used to this, I take it?¡± I suggested. She nodded insistently.


    ¡°Yes, the Temple teaches to forego material needs. We were made to suffice in smaller living spaces like this, or even those smaller still. But I can see how it neglects the opportunity of company,¡± she explained, still fretting. I calmed her a bit in placing my hands atop her shoulders.


    ¡°We can make do here, unless you yourself wish to go elsewhere,¡± I assured her. ¡°May I?¡± I asked, gesturing for her bedding, which served for the sole place to sit in her closet-like room.


    ¡°Bless you, Callant, yes, you may,¡± she grinned, slowing her breath and ceasing her worries. I took a seat upon her bed, and if nothing else found it a bit firmer than my own, though noted to myself that perhaps Lucene and I had simply overcome that firmness in ours. While I thought about the nature of Bliss¡¯s bedding, she herself sat to my right, close enough that our thighs and shoulders were touching one another. I read into that closeness that she wanted me to throw an arm over her shoulders, which I did. She leaned into my grasp, against me, affirming my reasoning. ¡°So I see two avenues for our evening,¡± she declared then, while I, with my augmetic, reached for the bottle of Gleece on the table before us.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± I asked, moving the conversation along while, for the time being, eyeing the Gleece in an attempt to discern its vintage. No luck in that regard.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she nodded, eyes tracking the bottle of Gleece in my grasp. ¡°One avenue is we drink into that. We have some very flirtatious fun together. On account of my reaction to alcoholic beverages¡ªmost of all Gleece¡ªthis stuffy little closet of mine will likely smell quite foul, but I get the sense you¡¯d put up with that for my sake,¡± she explained, recognizing that I was here for her, not so much for my own needs or desires. ¡°Was a time, or an era, in which I thought I wanted that. The fun. The play. The childish games of two Inquisitors.¡±


    ¡°It sounds to me you don¡¯t want that anymore,¡± I acknowledged, tabling the bottle of Gleece again and turning to her. ¡°I admit, I rather came prepared for that sort of play, but I¡¯m here for you, Bliss, as you deduced. So, what do you want if not that?¡±


    Bliss replied not with words, not at first. Instead, she leaned more into my grasp while turning a bit to her side, putting a hand first to my chest and then, thinking better of pressing upon my recently-wounded upper body, moved it to my right shoulder. As she pressed my shoulder back, I realized what she wanted, and spun ninety degrees, kicking my legs up onto the rest of her bedding, boots and all, while I began to lay back. I wondered how far she was going to take this immediately, sex an omnipresent possibility and a point of concern for a devoted husband such as myself. Yet while it remained a possibility, it became evident that sex was not Bliss¡¯s immediate goal, which upon reflection I should have known; she was not so shallow. No, Bliss pushed me onto my backside and for a moment laid to my right, on her side, but that did not last long before she slowly crawled over me, nestling her head between my right shoulder and my neck. I embraced her as she embraced me, even if I found myself a bit pressed under her weight, which I again found to be greater than her form would suggest.


    I knew all too well what Bliss wanted in that moment, and I tried to give it to her. A shoulder to cry on. A warm body to rest upon. Arms to call home. I had wanted these things too, long ago. I, however, found only the cold, deathly embrace of the Black Ships. Now, seeing another in a position of loss I was all-too familiar with, I wanted better for them than I was given. And thankfully, for a few moments, I was able to provide for her. If I had to guess, I lasted about ten-to-fifteen minutes beneath Bliss¡¯s great, overpowering form before unintentionally releasing a grunt from the strain of supporting her bulk. That stirred her from her sorrow, after which she sat up on my waist, letting my breathe, albeit still weighing down upon me. ¡°Sorry. Thank you, Callant,¡± she murmured, wiping tears from her cheeks into palms and clenched fists.


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize,¡± I wheezed, catching a breath. ¡°Why are you so heavy?¡± I asked after a few moments of strained breathing. The bluntness of the question made her blurt out a laugh despite her prior¡ªand, likely, lasting¡ªemotions.


    ¡°What did I tell you about asking a woman about her weight?¡± she lectured me, grinning widely while her crimson eyes remained reddened at their edges. Black hair fell beyond her face, partially obscuring my view of the mess her otherwise beautiful visage had fallen into.


    ¡°Something about it not being very polite,¡± I answered with a return grin. ¡°To which I had pointed out that politeness was never really how I handled our relationship.¡±


    ¡°Quite right,¡± Bliss agreed, laughing again. She then leaned back a bit, stretching her legs out past my head. Unlike me, at the time, she was barefoot, wearing only a white nightgown over some yet-unseen undergarments. She, too, seemed to notice this difference in attire between us, and glanced behind herself to my own feet, whereupon she moved to start taking my boots off. ¡°Also not polite to put footwear on a bed,¡± she chided me.


    ¡°Oops.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re forgiven. This time,¡± she smiled, tossing my boots to the floor. ¡°Polymorphine.¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Why I¡¯m as heavy as I am,¡± she answered. ¡°I mean, you had probably deduced that much. And truthfully, the polymorphine didn¡¯t make me heavier itself. As a reaction to my body¡¯s rejection of polymorphine, the Temple did what they could to keep my being more stable. One such attempt involved increasing my muscle density. More density over the same volume meant more mass.¡±


    ¡°And also more strength, which explains why you¡¯re cleaving Astartes in two and lugging power armor around with such ease,¡± I inferred.


    She nodded, but tauntingly added, ¡°Oh, getting you to safety there wasn¡¯t the easiest thing, mind you. You¡¯re not the lightest thing either, in all that getup.¡±


    ¡°Well you managed with Lucene and her armor,¡± I offered. Lucene, for her size, weighed more than I did, and her own power armor would have likewise been more significant of mass.


    ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t carrying her in an active warzone. People kept shooting at you while you were out, you know,¡± Bliss explained. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, though. I¡¯m happy to have brought you to safety.¡±


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    ¡°And now we¡¯re here,¡± I nodded.


    ¡°Yeah, we are,¡± she muttered, nodding in agreement again, though her smile faded. ¡°So that second avenue I was talking about¡­bonding. Talking. Resting. Together. Sure you don¡¯t want that bottle of Gleece?¡±


    ¡°Curious though I am about whether you¡¯d smell worse than Abseradon, it¡¯s up to you, Bliss. Fun and games or rest and recovery¡ªchoice is yours,¡± I shrugged, caring not about the decision itself, but about what she felt she needed or, more, wanted in that moment.


    ¡°But it¡¯s not really, is it?¡± she sighed, leaning further back and placing her hands on my ankles in the process. She stared up at the dark, rusted iron ceiling of her alcove-abode, breathing slowly and longingly. ¡°All I want is you, Callant. And I can¡¯t have you. The universe makes that painfully obvious every day.¡±


    ¡°You have me here, now, don¡¯t you?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°For what, twelve hours? If that? And what about the next thousand years I¡¯m doomed to live without you? Would you ask me to live alone, Callant? Would you ask me to live after having killed you? Because I will not want to,¡± she shook her head, slowly moving her gaze back to me. ¡°This pain¡­Jack, Emile¡­even Caliman,¡± she began, lips trembling as tears began to well in her eyes again. ¡°It burrows so deep. My heart feels cavernous, empty, with the low howling memory of what was. And you¡¯re the only glimmer of light, of hope, of what could be. Without that¡­I think you know better than anyone else on this ship how much that¡¯d hurt. I think you dread it too.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do, Bliss. I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I sighed, and took to rubbing her left thigh with my right hand, flesh to flesh. I figured the augmetic grip would not have been as warm or inviting as she needed.


    ¡°So am I,¡± she agreed. ¡°Ouranos taunts you with the death of¡ª¡± she began, but bit her lip and shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want that for you, Callant. I don¡¯t want her to die. I love you, and you love her. I want you to be happy. I need you to know that, and I need you to know that if you¡¯re not, I¡¯m here for you. Always.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I muttered, barely audibly. But it had been loud enough for Bliss to hear, and she nodded again. ¡°Lucene is¡­unconcerned with the possibility of her death. And logically, I understand why. We can all die at any time. Our foes lurk in every shadow and every corner of our negligence to see them so, and even at the most vigilant, they may strike out all the same. Death is inevitable. But that doesn¡¯t make it any less impactful. Such is our curse, our dreadful burden.¡±


    ¡°Which is why we need to find time to share that burden. Time like this,¡± Bliss agreed, leaning forward again, pulling her hands from my ankles and retreating her legs into a near-kneeling position, though she still kept the bulk of her weight on my waist. ¡°We won¡¯t survive otherwise. And our survival is too valuable to the Imperium, to the point that the Inquisition mandated yours and my Temple tried to engineer mine. Tell me, are you familiar with Inquisitor Jaq Draco?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I am,¡± I admitted, shaking my head. ¡°Who is he? And why do you ask?¡±


    Bliss nodded, then moved to lay upon me again, that we were face to face. I threw my biological arm over her again as she embraced me in turn, but she kept herself somewhat on her side, that her own right arm could trace circles into my chest. ¡°Ordo Malleus. Also dead. Probably. Served the Throne in the 39<sup>th</sup> Millennium. He loved one of my Temple. She¡­I don¡¯t know if she reciprocated that love. But he was mad for her. The Temple has since hammered home into its agents not to give in to the machinations of the heart. In that regard I suppose I¡¯ve failed. And here we are again, Inquisitor and Callidus Assassin. Just as with Draco. So close our kinds have a habit of coming, it seems, but ever doomed never to be fulfilled. What?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re staring. At my face, which I mean, I¡¯m used to people staring at my chest,¡± she muttered. ¡°Still gotta get you to stare at my chest one of these days. Do you think it would count if I just jammed your skull into it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m leaning toward no.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me too, unfortunately. Doesn¡¯t mean I won¡¯t sometime, though,¡± she winked to me. ¡°Now what were you thinking about?¡±


    ¡°Just¡­what if¡­us?¡± I stammered out, caught off-guard by her calling out my staring, and also not sure how to formulate my thoughts to words in the first place.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve wondered the same thing for a few decades now,¡± she nodded. ¡°Frankly, I see many areas at which it could be problematic. I worry we may distract each other.¡±


    ¡°The Inquisition would want to keep me under its thumb,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°And the Temple would want me back if they felt I was being misused,¡± she noted. I nodded again, agreeing with that assessment. ¡°We are assets to the Imperium, you and I; and assets can be risks if not in safe hands. We are not¡­people. Not in the way you and I see others. Perhaps it has to be this way. We are too competent, too capable, too dangerous. It¡¯s not likely that the pen-pushers above us can know to trust us with each other.¡±


    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t,¡± I again agreed. ¡°But despite all of that, I think I would like it.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°You.¡±


    Bliss stared at me, then, in silence, while her pupils dilated and her breath, as felt by the side of my face, grew warmer. A moment later, she moved herself to me, and I reacted in tandem, bringing us together, in full, at last. We started slow, and stayed as such for a while, but that did not last; as nightgown and jacket joined my boots on the floor of her room, and as pants and undergarments fell upon the growing pile of clothes, the pace of our love grew brisker and more fervent. Did I bring us there? Did she coerce us to that point? Was it right?


    None of these questions mattered in the moment, but to the last point, it certainly felt right. I felt her, in the full extent of her physiology, and I invited her to feel me as well, inside my mind and outside my body. I touched countless scars that had befallen her form over the years, some old, some very new, all of which were otherwise normally hidden beneath her attire, scant though it often was. We were both wounded, deeply, physically and mentally, yet in different ways. And in that difference, in the extremes of who we were, we found completeness. Wholeness. Something I had not ever felt before; not in my love for Lucene, which was faithful, dutiful, and profound; not in my love for Mirena, which was passionate and burned as a flame. In Bliss, I found bliss. Peace, that thing Mortoc had once claimed to offer me, but no material or political peace could have matched the sort that I needed and that I found with Bliss. Peace was not something that could exist in the world for killers and soldiers like ourselves, but it was something that could be found and made, at least in part, and temporarily, together.


    Peace, as opposed to the eternal war that consumed all reality. Perhaps that possibility, the hope for that reality, made all wars worth fighting. Perhaps ¡®perhaps¡¯ was a bit redundant.


    Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, though thankfully Bliss was possessed of enough vigor¡ªunsurprisingly¡ªto keep us going for a long enough while. When the end did finally arrive, Bliss lifted herself off me somewhat, hands upon my shoulders, while continuing to sit on my waist. ¡°I didn¡¯t break your chest again, did I?¡± she asked, catching her breath while wetting lips which had dried.


    ¡°I think we¡¯d both know,¡± I grunted, also panting. ¡°You are quite heavy, though.¡± I was very much so out of breath for that reason; she seemed to have the energy of Mirena, the fervor of Lucene, and more mass backing her efforts than the two combined. In other words, the perfect storm of a lover.


    ¡°One of these days, Callant, I¡¯m gonna make you regret the insults,¡± Bliss laughed, twirling some of her hair with her right index finger while her left hand rubbed my gut.


    ¡°I had assumed that was the intent behind the Gleece,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Yes, sorta. I admit, I think I prefer where the evening has gone, though,¡± she shrugged. She then laid herself upon me again, cuddling up in my arms while she rested her head to my side, rather than atop my face as it had been. ¡°Stay the night?¡±


    ¡°Truthfully, Lucene was under the impression you might steal me away for more than merely one day,¡± I admitted, and Bliss¡¯s eyes glimmered with hopeful grins. ¡°I¡¯m here as long as you need me to be, Bliss.¡±


    ¡°Need or want?¡±


    ¡°Need.¡±


    ¡°Pity,¡± she giggled, then pecked my lips again. ¡°Could you imagine a thousand years of this? Of us? To sleep like this each night, and to awaken each morning with your face buried in this chest, that you might finally stare at it?¡±


    ¡°Is that my fate tomorrow?¡± I asked, grinning.


    ¡°Spoilers. Oh, the stars would go out, all of them, before I had finished with you, Callant Blackgar. But I suppose that is not what I need, no, not yet,¡± she admitted. ¡°I¡¯ll try to have you back to her in¡­two days? Maybe three?¡± she suggested, a smile widening before she again tapped her lips to mine.


    ¡°Oh, is that all? Something tells me that bottle isn¡¯t likely to last three days,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Hm? That one? No, we¡¯ll have that after I¡¯ve brought you breakfast tomorrow,¡± she confirmed. ¡°That¡¯ll give some time for my cabin to air out by tomorrow evening for more of this,¡± she explained, and moved her face over mine more properly once more, beginning to kiss me again. ¡°Thank you, Callant.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m the one that should be thanking you, Bliss,¡± I replied, making her laugh some more before she reignited her fervor for me in full. For the second time, yet far from the last, we fell in together, she the perfect Assassin-turned-Inquisitor and me the whatever-I-was. But for the first time in my life, with her, I felt like I was more than I had ever thought of myself. With her, I thought I could do or accomplish anything, and that we were both so devoutly, passionately loyal to the Throne was the icing on the cake; together, we could be the perfect, harmonious exterminators of any heresy we came across.


    And we would love it the whole while.


    That, I deemed, was the answer to the ¡®What if?¡¯ that had plagued us both.

 Chapter 97 - Despoiled

    999.M41


    ¡°Come on then, cowboy, just through here,¡± Mirena insisted, pulling on each of my hands in my grasp as she backpedaled. My hands continued to shake uneasily even in her grasp, though her grip did help considerably nevertheless.


    ¡°Cowboy?¡± I muttered as she led me inside the establishment, unfamiliar with the term.


    ¡°Oh, do you not¡ªnever mind,¡± she shook her head, releasing one of my hands¡ªmy augmetic¡ªfrom her grasp to spin around my side, where she then pulled herself against me and coddled me in her arms. ¡°Shall we get a drink?¡±


    ¡°I think that would help,¡± I agreed, letting her lead me further into the club while my eyes scanned the scene. Most of the patrons were a military sort, Astra Militarum, which made sense. Multiple Guard regiments were parked on Saar¡¯s World, the voidships carrying them hovering overhead. I had been in their position once, having some last-minute fun on a civilian world before being sent off to hell. As a Commissar, I always told the men and women under my command never to get into anything too uncouth, but even then I always knew that they were destined to find time for alcohol and a sultry stay. Now, knowing what fate awaited these soldiers, I was not about to deprive them of their time to be alive, nor was I going to rob the establishment, Tavera¡¯s Tavern, of its guests.


    Most of the guests were of the Guard, but a few were civilians. Fewer still were Naval noncoms, and those of such a background failed to hide their sneers of disgust and jealousy for Mirena upon seeing her newly-pinned jacket. Off to the right of the entrance, on an elevated platform, a band of Servitors was playing some bassy tune to set a lower, more-jiving mood for the establishment. It was far from the quality of a live show, but it was better than nothing.


    Upon arriving at the bar, Mirena sauntered over a stool to take a seat and tapped the counter twice. ¡°Two shots of Gleece for the best pilot in the Sector!¡± she said with a wide grin on her face. ¡°And her mate,¡± she added, glowing joy glancing over her sunglasses¡ªindoors, mind you¡ªto me as I took a seat next to her. ¡°How¡¯s it look, do you think?¡± she asked me while I paid for our drinks, holding the chest of her brown bomber jacket out. In stark contrast to someone like Bliss, Mirena was fully clothed at most times, not revealing any skin at all below her neck, save for her hands. And at that, one hand was bionic anyway.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s right where it belongs,¡± I agreed, flicking the pin that she had stuck on her jacket, from coming in 1<sup>st</sup> place at Saar¡¯s 1,232<sup>nd</sup> Airshow. It took some string-pulling to even get her entered as a contestant, and now it was going to take a shot of Gleece¡ªor more¡ªto quell the shaking in my hands from being her copilot during the event. This was also the source of the disdain expressed by the Naval pilots in the room, as this apparent-nobody had beaten out the dozens of other contestants among the Imperial Navy stationed at Saar¡¯s World as well.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that right,¡± she smiled, licking her lips over as two shots of Gleece were placed in front of us. She picked hers up first, waiting for me to take mine, and when I did, she hooked her arm around mine and had us drink in unison, coupling ourselves together. ¡°You doin¡¯ OK, Cal?¡±


    ¡°Did you have to fly so damn fast?¡± I sighed, making her break into a laugh.


    ¡°Well, yes. I did, in fact,¡± she answered, still chuckling, then tapped the counter twice for a refill of our shots. ¡°Sorry. Did you have any fun, though? Any at all?¡±


    ¡°Oh, plenty of fun. Rarely a dull hour with you, Mirena,¡± I admitted with a shrug as I reached for a newly-refilled shot of Gleece. Unlike our first drink, we had these on our own, without coupling our forearms around each other.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good, at least. I get it. You¡¯re more into a skyview cruise,¡± Mirena suggested, also shrugging, before patting my back. ¡°Nothin¡¯ wrong with that. Maybe we¡¯ll find time for that tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Not likely, what with all the buzz,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s that all about, anyway?¡± she asked, referring to the intense military presence over the world.


    ¡°Cadia¡¯s at war,¡± I said, then leaned in closer to her. ¡°The Despoiler¡¯s trying to take it. Not gonna happen, but the Imperium¡¯s throwing everything they have at the fight,¡± I explained more quietly.


    ¡°Does that include us?¡± she wondered. I shook my head. ¡°Should it?¡±


    I shook my head again. ¡°Galaxy¡¯s aflame. Cadian Gate is just one front of the Eternal War. We have our front to fight back here. For instance, a number of Hulks belonging to the Archenemy appeared in Scarus recently. They¡¯re on a death-march toward Cadia, and they seem to have Greenskin support, to make matters worse. Everyone is fighting the same battle, doesn¡¯t really matter where they are.¡±


    ¡°Well it¡¯s bad timing for a vacation, then,¡± Mirena acknowledged. I shrugged.


    ¡°It¡¯s always bad timing when you¡¯re¡­what we are,¡± I reminded her. ¡°I¡¯m making do. So I¡¯ve done a bit of astropathic communication here and there during our time off to make sure things are in order and the Sector¡¯s ready to respond to what it must, even if I¡¯m not there,¡± I suggested. ¡°What?¡± I asked her afterward. She was looking over her sunglasses again, eyes locked with mine while a subtle grin crept across her face.


    ¡°You¡¯re just so damn cool,¡± she whispered before leaning forward to peck my lips. ¡°I could listen to you talk Inquisitor for hours.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you already have,¡± I grinned. Mirena blew me another kiss, then waved the bartender down for a refill of our shots once more. After doing so, she looked past me and much of her prior joy began to fade from her face, her smile withering away. I scanned with my mind for why, and found it immediately. Some of the Guard were trying to hook up with a woman, a civilian, and not having much luck of it. Their reactions, then, were getting less friendly by the moment, and all of them were obviously drunk. Recipe for disaster, particularly of the sort that most troubled Mirena. My pilot shot to her feet at the sight of the scene, and began to move to intervene, until I grabbed her by her non-augmetic wrist. She glowered down at me for a moment. ¡°Don¡¯t kill them. And don¡¯t hit their heads if things come to blows,¡± I told her, then extended a hand up to her. She passed me her sunglasses at last, and I set them upon the counter next to me.


    ¡°Fine. Why not their heads?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re soldiers. Problems arise when they¡¯re concussed,¡± I answered. She nodded, and I let go of her, OK¡¯ing her intervention. While she moved to assist the civilian, I called to the bartender. ¡°Excuse me, sir, how much for the bottle itself?¡±


    ¡°You lookin¡¯ to drink yourself to death? Better ways to go,¡± he warned me.


    ¡°Just for the road,¡± I suggested.


    He shrugged. ¡°Five Thrones.¡± I paid up, and he planted the bottle next to our shot glasses. I had both mine and Mirena¡¯s at once as a fight broke out between my Agent and three members of the Guard. The civilian, meanwhile, managed to escape the scene, thanking Mirena as she left. As I had with Bliss, and while a bar fight broke out behind me, I took the bottle of Gleece up in my hands and began trying to discern its vintage. Again, no luck. Perhaps at some point producers of the drink just stopped mentioning that. Disappointed, I put the bottle down to rest, then used a bit of my psykana to influence the bartender away from drawing his shotgun located below the counter as the fight intensified. ¡°For the damage,¡± I suggested, sliding some extra coinage up. ¡°And your discretion,¡± I added.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­that¡¯s a new bar¡¯s worth,¡± the bartender muttered. ¡°Who the Throne are¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not a question you want an answer to,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Take it. Take the gun, get civilians out of here. Oh, do you have rooms for rent in this establishment? I¡¯ll pay triple your rate,¡± I suggested. He nodded slowly, acting as though in a dream while entranced by my will, and procured a key from a rack behind him before putting it next to the bottle I had bought. I added further coinage to the pile. ¡°Thank you much. Go,¡± I told him, taking the key and the bottle into my grasp.


    Shortly thereafter, Mirena landed next to me, thrown against the counter by one of her¡ªmany¡ªassailants. She had antagonized much of the whole bar, save for the civilians and the band. The Navy noncoms, of course, were happy to try to land a blow on the outsider that had stolen their medal from them. But Mirena seemed happier, a bit beaten around the edges though she was, than she had been while flying; she was enjoying herself greatly. I handed her the bottle of Gleece. ¡°Drink,¡± I said, wiping some of her blood from a torn cheek against my thumb while she winced. After she took a swig of the Gleece, I then snapped her nose back into place, which produced a more sizable hiss of discomfort from her, including the thrusting of one of her fists into my thigh. That did not hurt me at all, was just a bit of pressure.


    ¡°Hey! You with her?¡± boomed a thick, still-drunken voice from behind me.


    I did not turn to face the speaker, instead thumbing across the chest of Mirena¡¯s jacket, where I noticed her medal had been stripped from her. ¡°I am,¡± I answered, reaching out with my mind to find the medal a few feet away from us, sitting on the ground. The Navy noncoms were trying to force their way through a crowd of the Guard to get to it. ¡°And if you¡¯re not, you had better not be in the room when I turn around,¡± I added, taking the bottle from Mirena and shooting down a swig of my own. ¡°Need a hand?¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Just one,¡± she admitted, raising a bionic fist into the air to her side. I tapped my own augmetic fist against hers, then spun around and hopped from my stool just in time to bop my head to the side, dodging a blow from the Guardsman that had addressed me earlier. I caught his outstretched arm with my augmetic, holding him in place, then rammed my birth-arm into his gut, blowing out any semblance of oxygen from his body in the process. As I pushed the Guardsman away from me, such that he fell onto his back in a wheeze, Mirena jumped off her stool again to stand to my side.


    ¡°Well?¡± I asked the crowd.


    ***


    ¡°See? I¡¯m not so bad at fighting, either,¡± Mirena told me as she lifted another wheezing victim off the ground, still looking for her badge.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re the first resource I¡¯ll tap if I ever need to win a barfight again,¡± I agreed, wiping blood and booze from my jacket, none of it mine¡ªor Mirena¡¯s. ¡°Do you suppose we should tell the band?¡± I asked, nodding toward the Servitors.


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s funnier this way,¡± Mirena giggled. The Servitors were now not only playing their songs for no one, they also weren¡¯t playing them; their instruments had broken or been thrown aside in the ensuing brawl, but still, the Servitors went through the motions of playing a beat without their bass, drums, or reeds. ¡°Come on, where is this damned¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mirena,¡± I called to her, then pointed across the room when she looked to me. She went over to the person I had pointed to and plucked her medal from their grasp.


    ¡°Thanks, Cal,¡± she smiled, pinning it to her chest once more. ¡°Suppose we should find a place to go wash up, hm?¡± she suggested. I replied by reaching into my jacket and dangling they key I had procured for a room in this establishment. ¡°Ah, someone¡¯s been busy. Shall we?¡±


    ¡°I think we should address our guests first,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re in a position to listen much,¡± Mirena frowned as she walked up to me, throwing her arms around my waist.


    ¡°Not those guests, the new ones,¡± I clarified.


    ¡°New ones?¡±


    On cue, a swarm of additional Guardsmen flooded into the establishment, lasrifles already drawn and trained on us. Or, they tried to aim at us. They all found themselves unable to lift the barrels of their weapons beyond a sixty-ish degree angle from the ground, leading to much confusion. ¡°What the¡ªwhy aren¡¯t any of you aiming at them?¡± a Commissar asked his unit, fuming.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªwe can¡¯t sir!¡± a Guardswoman replied, still struggling¡ªand failing¡ªagainst my psykana. Mirena, with reluctance, meanwhile moved behind me as I insisted on shielding her from view.


    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be damned, a psyker, of all things,¡± the Commissar acknowledged. I grinned and nodded to him, but he was not so amused. ¡°Whoever the hell you are, stop all this and come quietly for arrest. It¡¯ll be much less painful for you if you do.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really think you have the right idea here, Commissar,¡± I warned him.


    ¡°Really? Because we¡¯ve got a Primaris of our own,¡± the Commissar declared, and waved his arm forward to usher another individual into the overly-crowded room.


    Their psyker looked at me for a moment, and was well-composed for a time. But when they invaded my mind¡ªand I let them in, to some extent; I was willing to show a cursory glance of who I was without allowing them to see any operation details¡ªtheir composure broke completely and they fell prone, prostrating themselves before me. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, sir, Emperor forgive me my transgressions!¡± he began to plead to me. Their psyker¡¯s immediate surrender made many flush awash with curiosity and hesitation, to the point that I no longer needed to keep their weapons pointed away from us. They lowered their aim willingly.


    ¡°Again, not what you think I am,¡± I said with a wince and a shrug. I then reached to my jacket. ¡°May I?¡± I asked the Commissar, though I did not wait for the permission he eventually gave. A moment later, I produced my Rosette, and in so-doing made the rest of the room kneel to me as every conscious soul fell to prayer, save for the Commissar, who was trying to figure out how to react. ¡°This wasn¡¯t really my plan for the evening,¡± I admitted. ¡°Some of your men need medicae attention. Take care of them. You march for Cadia?¡±


    ¡°We¡­we do, Inquisitor, yes,¡± the Commissar answered.


    ¡°Good. Give the Despoiler hell. What¡¯s your name, Commissar?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Commissar Gryll Ardam, Inquisitor, of the Redhounds. Born Catachan,¡± he explained.


    ¡°You¡¯re a long way from home, Commissar,¡± I acknowledged. He nodded. ¡°Well, from a former Commissar to a current one, if you take the Despoiler¡¯s head from his shoulders, Ardam, bring your Redhounds back this way and I¡¯ll treat them all to a proper round of drinks. Sound like a deal?¡±


    ¡°Yes it does, Inquisitor, and a damn good one at that,¡± he agreed. ¡°Thank you, sir, for your service and your mercy.¡±


    ¡°My mercy is the Emperor¡¯s; may He watch over you as you bring His fury down upon the foe. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse us,¡± I started, nodding a farewell to a man I knew I might never see again. He nodded in return, knowing likewise, then turned to his men and women.


    ¡°Come on, then! If you sorry bastards could survive an Inquisitor, you can damn well face down anything you¡¯ll find on Cadia! On your damn feet!¡± he shouted, beginning to get his unit out from Tavera¡¯s Tavern while Mirena and I took our leave deeper into the establishment. And still, the band played on.


    ¡°You¡¯re so hot when you talk like that,¡± Mirena said over my shoulder before quite literally climbing onto my backside, wrapping her legs around my waist.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re just thirsty is all,¡± I grinned.


    ¡°Well, duh,¡± she rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arms over my shoulders and around my neck. ¡°Best pilot in the Sector has gotta drink, you know.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean that kinda thirst,¡± I told her.


    ¡°Neither did I,¡± she giggled, then kissed my cheek.


    ***


    One well-earned bath later, and a newly-toweled Mirena sat next to me, on my left, throwing her still-drying legs over my lap. Her wounds had cleaned, but were still open, involving a torn lip and cheek on her face, among other scratches and bruises across her body. I, however, had no wounds at all, which was probably the primary saving grace for many of Commissar Ardam¡¯s soldiers. Mirena¡¯s newly-earned medal rested to my right, now under her feet, while her jacket was splayed across the bed I was sitting on. It had not occurred to me to request a double room from the barkeep, so there was only one bed for us to spend the night in together. In hindsight, had I asked for Mirena¡¯s insight, I think she would have preferred the single that we wound up with, anyway.


    ¡°You seem distracted, Cal,¡± Mirena observed as she settled in next to me, snuggling against my side.


    ¡°Do I?¡±


    ¡°Yes. What¡¯s on your mind, because it certainly isn¡¯t me,¡± she asked.


    ¡°That can change,¡± I admitted, looking to and kissing her not-torn cheek. She giggled to herself as I did so.


    ¡°It can, and I¡¯ll be sure to make sure it does, in time. But if something¡¯s bothering you I want to know about it and stamp it out under my feet,¡± Mirena told me, leaning closer to me while lifting her feet from her medal onto my lap, tapping her toes against my right thigh.


    ¡°I¡­,¡± I began, but could not find the words. What was bothering me? The close of the 41<sup>st</sup> millennium, the universe on fire. Ouranos. Cronos. Bliss. Lucene. Mirena herself, who held my flame in her hands and mirrored it in her bosom for the past few weeks. ¡°I just¡­I¡¯m trying to figure out who I am.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well that¡¯s easy!¡± she exclaimed with a blurting laugh. ¡°You¡¯re Callant Blackgar, the baddest badass in all the galaxy!¡± she shouted, then leaned forward and, despite her torn lip, gave me a thick, wet kiss against my own cheek, ending with an audible mwah! ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°Well, that didn¡¯t worsen things,¡± I shrugged, chuckling to myself.


    Mirena then moved herself closer to me, all but sitting sideways upon my lap as she threw a mostly-dried arm over my shoulders. ¡°So why don¡¯t you know who you are, Cal?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­I feel like I¡¯m changing,¡± I sighed, pulling her into an embrace despite my dejectedness. ¡°Long time ago, when it was just you and me, I felt like a soldier, even as an Inquisitor. This continued for a while, into and out of Hestia Majoris at least. And then, as I fell in with Lucene and worked from the shadows for the Phaenonite Affair, I think I began to feel like more of an Inquisitor¡ªor, my image of one, anyway. And now, more recently, after my personal defeat at the hands of Mortoc followed by a¡­not-insignificant period of time with Bliss, I¡­I¡¯ve felt different still. Am I changing? And if so, into what?¡±


    ¡°Cal, has it occurred to you that perhaps you¡¯ve always been all of these things, including whatever you¡¯re about to be following your time with Bliss?¡±


    ¡°It hadn¡¯t,¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°Well, think about that. And by the way, how was Bliss? I heard you two really got after it in that closet of hers!¡± Mirena laughed.


    ¡°I really hate how much of my sex life is apparently public knowledge,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°It¡¯s not public, it¡¯s just a couple closed circles,¡± Mirena rolled her eyes while tapping a bionic finger to my nose. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to take the conversation away from your troubles¡ªbut I am really curious, is all.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can tell you never to share a room with Bliss¡ªespecially not so small of one¡ªafter she¡¯s had a drink of Gleece,¡± I assured her.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard apparently she gets rather foul from that,¡± Mirena giggled. ¡°But when not Gleece¡¯d up, how is she?¡±


    ¡°Why do you¡ªwhatever,¡± I sighed, shaking my head, which made Mirena blurt out another laugh. ¡°She¡¯s¡­very¡­there¡¯s a lot of her to go around, I¡¯ll say that much. Most of what she has in her arsenal is quite pleasant,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Well, perhaps in that case we should invite her along for one of these vacations, hm? That would mean less Gleece though,¡± Mirena mused. ¡°But I¡¯m certain the evenings would be far more adventurous.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d survive them,¡± I noted, getting a quick, grunting laugh from Mirena.


    ¡°Anyways, Cal, all you need to be is you. That¡¯s enough for me, and it¡¯ll be enough for the Throne. It hasn¡¯t not been enough so far,¡± she offered, pausing to parse through her own double negative before nodding to herself when she decided she had said her piece correctly. ¡°Whatever we may have to face in the future, we¡¯ll face together, and I¡¯ll feel safe and at peace doing so by your side. One day you¡¯ll realize that, what that means,¡± she explained. ¡°Hey, did we forget the Gleece downstairs?¡± she asked, suddenly looking about our room for it.


    ¡°Must have,¡± I admitted.


    Mirena stood up from my lap and shrugged her towel off, revealing herself to me in full for a few moments while she moved across the room to fetch some new clothes. ¡°Like what you see?¡± she asked, quoting herself¡ªthat was among the first things she had ever said to me.


    ¡°Well it¡¯s not the worst view,¡± I admitted with a shrug.


    ¡°Save the insults for Carmichael, Cal,¡± Mirena giggled, apparently aware of that facet of my relationship with Bliss as well. Upon donning some underwear and a light top, Mirena strode for the door of our room. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go see if I can find our bottle downstairs.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡± I suggested. She looked back to me in uncertainty. ¡°Pants?¡± I asked. She laughed to herself and waved my suggestion off, then left the room. And for a moment, I thought I was alone. I came to wish that I was.


    You lied to her.


    I did not respond.


    You live in lies, human. Do they make you feel safe?


    I said nothing, but closed my eye and fell to prayer. Alas, waiting behind my eyelid was darkness, infinite and vast.


    Can you see it coming? How you¡¯ll get there? The route laid out for you? I await you there, Callant Blackgar, at the cabin. It¡¯s very near, now. Soon, we will speak face to face at last, and I so look forward to that conversation, when I¡¯m free from your head.


    You should leave Saar¡¯s World. While you can.

 Chapter 98 - Apocrypha IV

    In the words of Valeran Mortoc, Captain, Shatter Corps


    [---he is captain no longer, hehehe---]


    I had once thought death would imply some finality. Unfortunately, this does not seem to be the case. There is more to it than the living can know. Within the sphere of death exists the realm of dreams, of nightmare made manifest. There is creation within oblivion, and it is vast and folds upon itself with every passing moment. There is more here than mortality can comprehend; even my mind, once conditioned to face the spawn of this fabled realm, can barely hold together.


    [---his mind is beyond repair---]


    And in this infinite paradise of destruction, I am witness to truths I could never have known. The way of things. Oh, how such a simple phrase betrays the immensity of nonexistence. Every moment is a flash of infinite colors, every instant whipping one¡¯s soul through an infinite cosmos. Singularity has no meaning within this singular non-space, and space has no purpose within this non-time. All things are and are not. To try to know what you believe you see is folly, to try to understand anything futile.


    Within this horrifying plane, all things are true and false, yet none of them so simple.


    But there is one surety, one thing that you can take to the grave: you are not alone. Not in life, as the predations of the daemonic haunt all who make the mistake of living. And in death? Certainly not, no; the presence is evidenced the moment you join the ranks of the dead. They are vile horrors, all of them; how could it be otherwise, how could a beast exist in nonexistence and have any semblance of sanity?


    And yet, despite this, there is a logic to them. There is a physics to the void, a method to the madness. Knowing this, you can barter and bargain. But what does a soul have to offer the soulless? Influence. Presence. Experience. They do not exist where we do, they know not how to wage and win wars as we do.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    [---says the loser---]


    And so, from what they have shown me, I bargain thus: I offer myself to service and servitude, for a chance at life anew. And they answered! Or, so I thought at first. But she is not them. I think she was mortal once, because she knew more than the others and knowledge of her many names conferred no power over her as it did some of the others.


    [---he knows not with whom he deals; a name is nothing to a would-be god---]


    She showed me something I did not think I would ever want: vengeance. Oh, the suffering she showed to me that I could inflict upon Blackgar and that wench of an Assassin he had employed! It was beautiful, enthralling! To visit such deep and meaningful vengeance upon one¡¯s slayers, what is more enticing than that? Am I so weak for having assented to her demands?


    [---yes---]


    The most disappointing part of what she asked of me was given in but a single word: Wait. Wait? In this hellish nonexistence? What for? Time was meaningless! But perhaps not to her, perhaps she, for her many eyes, could see time in a way that I could not while within this realm. Fine, I would wait for vengeance. A war is not won through haste, and mine, Callant Blackgar, is far from finished with you. Even if I must be an agent of another, as Ouranos (apparently an enemy of hers) had wanted me, I will see myself to victory.


    [---a failure is doomed only to fail---]


    While I wait, I have decided to take the metaphorical time¡ªbecause literal time is not something I can recognize here¡ªto learn more about my new employer. I admit, I am impressed. Her many titles are well-earned; The Cataclysm of Vaktez, for instance. She earned that. Sister to a Thousand Sons. Unmaker of Fate. Rubricheart. Hundreds, perhaps thousands more are among her many names, each of which could spell doom to a hundred worlds were they uttered beyond the Empyrean. Yet all of them are less significant than her one true name, her birth name, as given when she was still a mere mortal.


    She is Veralith.


    And there are none that can stop her, not of man, hellspawn, or lowly Xenos.


    Iron With[---bit bored of that---]

 Afterword

    Wow. It has been a journey to get here.


    I started this tale in May 2023. Over the months that followed, it seems like everything that could have happened did happen. I broke two (wisdom) teeth (don¡¯t ask me how), I got two ear infections that rendered me deaf for a week (it was as terrifying as you might imagine), and I was hit by my fair share of writer¡¯s block. But it wasn¡¯t all bad, either. I attended the wedding of a close friend, made great strides in my 9-5 job, and oh would you look at that, the follower count of this story jumped from 10ish to nearly 50. Wait, what?


    Yeah, I¡¯m talkin¡¯ `bout you lot out there. Where the heck did y¡¯all come from? Not that I¡¯m complaining, but seriously, that number just seemed to spike one day and I don¡¯t know how it happened. Similarly, those of you that have graced me with the favoriting of this story increased in population from 2 to 10. You¡¯re gonna make me blush, thank you. I¡¯d love to hear what some of you have to say about this tale so far; what you like, what you don¡¯t like, etc. Where you think (or hope) it¡¯s going. What you want more or less of. And as an arbitrary quantification of these metrics, the ranking of this story jumped from the lower 22,000s all the way up (down?) to the low 7,000s. Wow! I was hoping to break 10k by the end of the story, but we utterly smashed through that goal. I suppose now we can shoot to be among the top 5k stories on Royal Road, howsoever that ranking might be defined?


    ***


    Apocrypha, as a word, refers to text and scripture whose authenticity cannot be trusted. And for the many things I struggled with in writing this Volume, I must admit to myself, this theme of truth and lies works brilliantly for the story. The lies of the Inquisition and of Callant Blackgar¡¯s background are revealed to us for what they are. Valeran Mortoc¡¯s truths are shown, and whether they are veritable or not depends on who you ask. Truth and fact in Warhammer 40,000 are not objectively defined, and so many of our cast of characters rely on faith to steer them right. This makes true truths, when they are known as such, all the more impactful.


    In any event, as we near what is the halfway point for my original intent for this tale, we find ourselves already well beyond all the other 40k fanfics on this site in terms of size; Cronos has reached a higher page/word/chapter count than its peers sitewide. And we look ahead to more than double these stats in the future, so here¡¯s to you, those of you in the here and now. Thanks for being here. I hope to see you at the inevitable end, that we might all enjoy the journey together.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Speaking of the inevitable end, the fourth volume of this story fast approaches. While I do want to stay tight-lipped about most of it, I can promise you some things that should at least be obvious. Tragedy. Anguish. Loss. Grim Darkness that tries the wills of men. More specifically, those of you who are familiar with the 40k setting no doubt know what happens to the galaxy in 999.M41, as Mirena and Callant conclude their vacation together. The Noctis Aeterna looms ahead, with the Era Indomitus some distance beyond. A great Darkness lies in wait of Callant Blackgar¡¯s 9<sup>th</sup> and Final.


    Such is the story I intend to tell in Volume Four: Annihilation.


    Accompanying Annihilation is a new cover image for this story. Part of the stipulations for creating fan content for a Games Workshop product, particularly fan literature, involves including the word ¡®unofficial¡¯ on the cover of such literature. Well, I have not done that for some months now. I hope no one will tell GeeDubs. Unfortunately, I am not the most artistically gifted, so making something that works with what I intend for Cronos is not so easy for me. AI helps some, but most AI works are character-driven, and I put my foot down on showing my characters on the covers of my works. (Because I prefer readers to create their own imagery of those characters, that they might associate and relate with them more intimately.) So, if you¡¯ll have some patience with me, allow me to present the following for your judgment:


    It''s no Mona Lisa, I think we can agree on that.


    But for this Inquisitorial story that I mean to tell, such as it involves a certain minor Chaos-deity that has been well-hinted at in Apocrypha, and such as it involves the machinations of the Red, Blue, Green, and Purple, I think this cover does pretty well. It¡¯s subject to change, as well. I would be remiss, however, if I did not mention that my cover was a point of contention among the occasional review swap I have done. (Though, I¡¯ll note, I never did wind up with any reviews landing on my fiction page. Harumph. I hope I¡¯m not becoming too jaded, here.) But of the review ¡®swaps¡¯ I¡¯ve done, all have recommended I get something that catches a reader¡¯s¡­or, rather, a ¡®browser¡¯s¡¯ eye better. Here¡¯s hoping this¡¯ll do the trick.


    In any event, onward to Annihilation. Onward to Darkness. Onward to the inevitable end.


    <ul>


    <li>Ceno</li>


    </ul>

 Chapter 99 - Maledictum

    What do you fear, Blackgar?


    I knew the voice too well, as it was mine. But I was not its speaker.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I answered, and pushed myself to my feet. I was not in the black void that Ouranos had once summoned me to, but I was confident that wherever I may have perceived myself to be was neither real nor my actual, non-psychological location. Instead, I was in a field of pale maize resting atop green grass, and under a blue sky. A gentle breeze sent rippling waves through the maize. The tranquility of the scene betrayed its own ominousness, and was mired by the presence of the being behind me, which I turned to face after I spoke. ¡°And if there is such a thing I come to fear, it would not be you, daemon.¡±


    You say that with such surety, Cronos chuckled. It, in possession of a darker portrayal of my own visage, as though standing in shadow, made the movements of chuckling, but it never opened its mouth, neither to laugh nor to speak. Its voice¡ªmine, still¡ªemanated from its presence rather than being spoken. Life is not alive that knows not the clutches of fear.


    ¡°And a life lived in the grasp of fear is not worth living,¡± I countered, then took a quick moment to look myself over. I did not have my usual armament on my person¡ªno Drepane, no weaponry, no power armor. Last I knew, I had been returning from my vacation with Mirena, in which I had brought Drepane albeit not much else.


    And you believe yours is?


    ¡°It is if I am of use to the God-Emperor,¡± I replied.


    Even if that makes you of use to me? A good question, and I was not happy that it had been asked, as it had haunted me as of late. You fear the answer, Cronos asserted with a grin, still not opening its mouth¡ªits facsimile of mine¡ªto speak. I want you alive, Callant Blackgar. Is that impetus to kill yourself? What if ending your life serves the works of another, such as Ouranos? Live, and serve your archenemy through me, allotted an eternity of service thanks to Absalom. Die, and serve your archenemy through Ouranos, eternally in the shreds of your afterlife. What is the poor Inquisitor to do?


    ¡°Kill you both, obviously,¡± I shrugged. Cronos grinned again. ¡°You think I can¡¯t,¡± I responded to its smile.


    I think you¡¯ll try. And I look forward to the trying. Alas, as I want you alive, I am inclined to aid you, whether you want my aid or not.


    ¡°I do not.¡±


    You left Saar¡¯s World too late. You are in for a rough time of it. Awaken, Blackgar, and act decisively and instinctually. You will not have time to second-guess yourself. Today may hurt, but I¡ªand Ouranos, I imagine¡ªwill try to protect you, Cronos warned me, though I knew not of what that warning entailed. It then lifted its right arm¡ªagain a shadowed copy of mine¡ªand poised to snap its fingers. Wake up, Blackgar, it started, and then snapped.


    ***


    I awoke with a start and at once felt as though my head was splitting. I shot upright in bed, clutching at my skull and must have screamed, but could not hear it over the deafening sirens that echoed through The Atticus, the vessel on which Mirena and I were traveling. Mirena rose with me, equally alarmed, but not nearly in as much pain as I; indeed, she appeared to be unafflicted save for the noise. She shouted something at me, but it was impossible to discern through my newfound headache of catastrophic proportions or over the blaring alarms of the ship.


    #¡ªALL HANDS EMERGENCY. GELLAR FIELD EXPERIENCING SIGNIFCANT INTEGRITY LOSS,# shouted the alarms through the whole of The Atticus while dim red lights flashed in every corner of every room. #DAEMONIC INCURSION LIKELY. PLEASE BEGIN PRAYING TO THE GOD-EMPEROR. NAVIGATIONAL CREW WILL ATTEMPT TO MAKE EXIGENT EVACUATION FROM THE EMPYREAN. ALL HANDS EMERGENCY. GELLAR FIELD EXPERIENCING SIGNIFICANT INTEGRITY LOSS¡­#


    +We need to move!+ my mind shouted to Mirena. Curiously, using my psykana lessened the pain I was experiencing¡ªthe opposite of what would usually happen if I strained my mind too much. I chalk this discrepancy up to a temptation from the archenemy, perhaps Cronos itself, in wanting me to ease my burden by leaning into my mind¡¯s strengths. In that moment, I resolved to only do so as necessary.


    But there was much that was about to be necessary.


    And go where? Mirena thought back while I willed our work clothes and jackets onto our bodies and Drepane to my grip. Upon flicking the Nemesis falchion on, the pain in my head lessened still¡ªindeed, it was of a psychic and likely daemonic nature.


    +Anywhere but here. Landing bay?+ I suggested, gingerly and painstakingly rising to my feet amidst the continuing sirens blaring through the ship. Mirena shot to her feet quicker than I managed, and moved to assist my rise and, subsequently, my motion. +There may come a time when I will have to ask you to carry me, if I need use my mind more profoundly.+


    I¡¯m not Bliss, she warned.


    +And I do not have my power armor, so we¡¯ll call it even,+ I replied, managing a grin as we took our first steps out of our room aboard The Atticus. The halls beyond were pure chaos, in the literal sense as much as the theological. With every flash of red light, the walls seemed to contort upon themselves, and the floor appeared to be ever-moving, as though the ship itself were trying to change into something other than a ship. I hoisted Drepane up, illuminating our view, and within the span of its radiance the shifting of our surroundings ceased. We set out into the darkness together, the dim light of my blade guiding our way. Mirena supported me with one of my arms thrust over her shoulders while I gripped her tightly, squeezing at her as I contended with the psychic pain ever washing over me.


    Panic and horror ran around us, both in the form of terrified civilians and uncertain Guardsmen alike, as well as in the form of an implacable and unknowable essence that permeated the confines of The Atticus. As we went, I reached out to the Navigators¡¯ compartment, wanting to see if I could help them to steer us out from the Empyrean, or at the very least come to an understanding of what had happened to result in this tragedy. In the Navigators, I felt greater fear than anything Mirena and I had encountered yet, for they saw in the Warp a deeper darkness than ever they had before. I could not see as they did, and felt only their emotions and their reactions. But to them, the Fire was gone; they could no longer see the Astronomican. I did what I could to ease their panic, but I knew not how to maneuver a vessel into¡ªor, more poignantly, out of¡ªthe Empyrean as they could. I retreated, then, back to my own body, where Mirena had been hurrying us along further still. And just in time, too.


    When I returned to my body, the first thing that greeted my senses was the heat of lasfire and the smell of autogun munitions. I could hear neither over the sirens. Neither the lasfire nor the autogun bullets were meant for us, thankfully; instead, a squad of Guardsmen was at a crossroads¡ªa poor tactical positioning¡ªbefore us, firing down a hallway obscured from our view. I thought to wave them to me, to join my command and escort us to the landing bay, but what they were shooting at reached them before my mind could. A blur of brass and flame shot through one of the Guards, splattering some part of his body into red gore while carrying the rest off into the darkness deeper down the other hall. As this happened, three other events occurred as well:


    <ul>


    <li>The crossroads at which the Guardsmen were positioned became a T-intersection in the blink of an eye, the walls of the hallway that Mirena and I would have proceeded down morphing closed before our view. A face, far from human, laughed itself into existence near to the Guardsmen, though I wagered the laughing was meant for us as our path terminated.</li>


    <li>A red humanoid leapt off the brass terror that had punched through one of the Guardsmen, landing next to those remaining in the group. It brandished a blade of terrible flame, was possessed of long, curved, stygian horns, and could not help but to hold its forked tongue in plain view as it landed, eager to eviscerate its next unfortunate victims. I had encountered a creature of its nature twice before, once while serving in the tutelage of Inquisitor Thaddeus Scayn, of the Ordo Malleus, and a second time while cleansing Thantalus of its corruption. Malleus called this daemon a Bloodletter, and its brass steed a Juggernaut. Neither were within my expertise to handle, but both demanded their existence be rectified.</li>


    <li>In unusual perpendicularity to the closure of our available path ahead, the wall to the left of us opened up, revealing a corridor that had not existed moments ago. It was tough to pry our eyes off the red horror before us, but I managed with the strength of will alone to do so and peer into this newly-available route. With my arm still wrapped around Mirena, I also shielded her view of the Bloodletter and forced her to turn round, that she faced this new corridor. It was then that a pyskana entered my head, possessing a voice I had not heard from since Jaegetri, but was all-too familiar with regardless. +Go, Blackgar,+ Ouranos ordered of me.</li>


    </ul>


    I admit, I was not much inclined to obey Ouranos¡¯s command. But from weighing the options between following his request so as to kill him later, or to risk my life¡ªand Mirena¡¯s¡ªto maybe kill a single lesser daemon and its mount, I chose the former, and pushed myself and my pilot into the newly-made hallway. There was no saving the Guardsmen the Bloodletter had targeted; it would kill them before I could reach them even were I at my best, which I, at the time, was very much not. Indeed, Mirena and I hurried down this new hallway for perhaps five seconds before a snarl sounded from our rear. I glanced back to see the Bloodletter slathered in a fresh coat of red, tongue still hanging and blade still burning.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    At once, and with a speed that could only be described as suitably daemonic, it surged forth toward us. I could not fight such a spawn while running in flight, and so turned to stand my ground, raising Drepane over my head as the Bloodletter effortlessly leapt from the floor of this hallway to its roof, where it scurried toward us from above. Meanwhile, its Juggernaut rounded the corner of our hall and began to charge toward us as well, at a far brisker pace than its master. They would likely set upon us at the same time. I had but one arm to defend against the two daemons, as still I held onto Mirena, both to shield her from them and to keep me on my feet amidst my perpetual psychic suffering.


    ¡°Throne burn you both,¡± I hissed moments before they reached us, prematurely bringing Drepane, fueled by my wrath, down in an arc I predicted the Bloodletter to strike upon us in. But before my arm could so-strike our assailant from the realms, another simultaneity of events occurred. The first was the sudden closure of this hallway of ours, except it collapsed upon itself at the Juggernaut¡¯s location. The Juggernaut¡¯s head and right forearm were launched past us as the rest of its body was crushed out of existence by the sealing of the hall. The second thing, which occurred at the same time as the Juggernaut¡¯s splattering, was a rush of shadows that pierced through the torso of the Bloodletter before pulling the daemon away from us. It was so sudden and so fierce that even the spawn of bloodlust and hatred was taken by surprise, dropping its flaming sword to the ground as it was whisked away.


    The Bloodletter found itself smashed into the ceiling by tendril-like shadows that gradually enveloped its form, and then pancaked into the ground, denting both areas of the hall. It was then pulled onto its knees while the shadows carved its form up, head to three-toed-hoof. Blackgar is not for you, seethed a voice as-yet unrevealed to me, but I knew its owner; we were in the Warp, after all, and it was here that daemons stalked. Moreover, Cronos had already made it clear it intended to protect me, for the time being. My daemonic archenemy, via powers remote from a visible form, ripped the Bloodletter in half down the length of its spine, after which its blade of flame snuffed itself out from existence.


    Following that little horror show, Mirena and I ran on, as far as we could from the shadows that had¡ªfor the time being¡ªspared us. There were other horrors on our journey through this Warp-hell, some of which were overt daemons that Malleus could classify, others of which were simply the result of The Atticus folding in on itself. But neither sort directly interfered with our path through the winding and alien halls of the vessel we once knew, not as the Bloodletter had. Was Cronos somewhere aboard the ship, or was it just its influence keeping other horrors at bay? What about Ouranos? Both had a vested interest in this event, cataclysmic as it was, not being my end.


    In any event, we made it to Flight Deck C, where Mirena¡¯s Fury was kept for her¡ªour¡ªprior joyriding, though such a time seemed impossibly distant and unlikely in the moments of our arrival. And for having arrived on a deck with an exposed view of the outside unreality¡ªwhich was safe, insofar as the failing-Gellar field still existed, and as long as the integrity of our newly-donned spacesuits was maintained¡ªwe viewed wonders that we perhaps should not have. Far beyond the gaping launch bay of The Atticus, a beaten and pulverized hellscape sat in view. Titanic brass structures, adorned and shaped with unthinkable heresies, towered over a bloodsoaked land; or perhaps it would have been better to call it an ocean from which spilled forth these megastructures.


    I knew to shield my own view of the profane nonexistence beyond, but for my partner¡¯s safety, plunged myself into Mirena¡¯s mind and tried to blot out everything from her sight save for the Fury itself. I do not know how successful I was; the mere vision of the beyond fought against my every effort to save her. And yet I was not the only thing the blasphemous unreality was fighting against; I could feel a struggle buried in its very essence, as though the world we bore witness to was in the process of being unmade by some other. And indeed, by the time we had boarded the Fury and begun initiating its launch protocols, the bloodied oceans beyond had begun to keel over and congeal into vats of sickly ooze. The brass megastructures painstakingly morphed into the visage of great trees and fauna as the hellscape fought to decide which unreality it wanted to settle on. Haunting crimsons and brasses regurgitated into pallid verdancy, yet still, both forms of the scene beyond wrestled against me in shielding Mirena¡¯s mind from their insanities.


    And yet, in this endeavor, I found an unfortunate ally. Just as pale vines began to press against and entangle the Gellar field of the launch bay, a great behemoth of black and brown materialized within view. I knew what it was in an instant¡ªa Space Hulk. It tainted the already-sickened garden-like false-paradise beyond with its mere presence, and with amalgamated weapons Imperium and Xenos, opened fire on The Atticus. No, that was not right. It opened fire upon the pallid garden that tried to swallow The Atticus whole. The garden¡ªwhy do I remember it as a garden? It was more horridly putrid than that¡ªfought back against the Hulk, and as consequence began to give way to the return of brass and crimson, which in turn also resisted the presence of the Hulk. Ever, this amorphous unreality could not decide what it was, but it had made an enemy of the Space Hulk as much as it detested the presence of The Atticus.


    +You¡¯ll have moments, Blackgar and Law, mere moments. Punch yourselves out of there when blood and vine are replaced with flame,+ Ouranos commanded of us. I did not like that he had reached into Mirena¡¯s mind, as I had, for I felt his presence there as much as within my own head. If we survived the day, Mirena was going to need a thorough psychic cleansing and resanctification, if¡ªperish the thought¡ªif she could be saved at all. As for me, who could say? What with my connection to Cronos, I would have thought myself too far gone several decades ago. But that was not in the cards, it seemed.


    Ouranos¡¯s Space Hulk¡ªI knew it was his; the psykana with which he used to communicate with me had intensified between his first communication during our Bloodletter debacle and the appearance of the Hulk¡ªcontinued its onslaught against unreality before my view for a time. Then, just as the Fury¡¯s engines had warmed up sufficiently, the blood and the vines consuming The Atticus roared into raging flames, and the unreality before us evaporated into realspace. We were atmospheric, plunging toward an unknown world. Mirena at once rammed our Fury forward, and as The Atticus, enflamed and breaking apart at the seams, plummeted toward the newfound ground below, we discovered that we were still not alone. How? How could it be that daemons were able to persist even into the Materium? That should not have been possible, not without a colossal profane ritual or display of sin.


    It did not matter how it was possible, for as Fury and Atticus fell toward the world, a cluster of daemons, crimson red and pallid green, joined us. I lashed out with my mind as best I could against them, and in so doing felt the shadowy malignance of Cronos even still. Mirena turned the Fury¡¯s forward guns on whatever was unfortunate enough to cross her descent, but we were making a descent. Mirena may have been an exceptionally gifted pilot, but emerging from a collapsing, plummeting voidship unscathed was an impossible task. Eventually, we hit the ground, hard, plunging through one snowbank after another and crushing a small forest¡¯s worth of pine trees. I began to black out, my vision fading.


    I came to outside the Fury, dragged onto my back. The first thing I saw was the flames of Mirena¡¯s favorite joy-toy. The second thing was the shrapnel sticking out from my gut. ¡°I¡¯m going to need some action from you,¡± Mirena panted from behind my view, then. I glanced around and subsequently found myself pulled into a sitting position, then I began to be lifted into the air. Mirena moved around me to put herself under my right armpit, keeping me upright as she lifted me to my feet. ¡°Do you have it in you to walk?¡±


    ¡°No guarantees,¡± I muttered, wincing as the shrapnel twisted in my gut. ¡°Thank you, Mirena, for everything so far. There are few that could do what you have today.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯ll be enough,¡± she agreed. In times past, I think she would have smiled at such a compliment. But smiles were not for anyone¡¯s face today. She began to carry me away from the wreckage of the Fury, and I found I could help in that regard, if only just. Perhaps forty feet from the wreck, Mirena and I looked upward as The Atticus, encased in fire, made its final descent upon the world, a violent streak of red flame in snowy skies. ¡°Where are we? What in Blessed Terra¡¯s name just happened?¡±


    ¡°I cannot begin to understand what has transpired today,¡± I frowned, shaking my head. ¡°But I know those stars, and I know this snow and ice. We¡¯re on Quintus. We¡¯re home, in a manner of speaking. Let¡¯s hope we can find a Firestation that wasn¡¯t destroyed during the Sieges,¡± I answered. Only then did I take assessment of my possessions. I still had Drepane. I had little else. That would have to be enough.

 Chapter 100 - Scars

    Firestation Ariadne was not destroyed, but it was abandoned. I suspected that was the case; the Dawnshadow, and its Inquisitorial presence, had been evacuating Quintus below for some time, that its personnel could relocate to another, not-so-compromised world. Regardless, it took a bit of effort to get inside the frozen front doors of the Firestation, but Mirena and I made do. Once inside, I was eager to search for any vox equipment that may have remained¡ªit was procedure to leave vox equipment behind in case any stragglers were misplaced¡ªbut Mirena had other plans, and she currently served as the bulk of my ability to move about. She brought me to a medicae station, helped me onto one of its few remaining units, and then sought a First-Aid kit all despite my objections.


    She returned soon after looking for First-Aid, kit in hand, and open it up next to me while she warned, ¡°I¡¯m afraid my hands are not as precise as Cast¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°With any luck I¡¯ll only need stitches, which I¡¯m sure you and I can figure out,¡± I suggested with a weakened grin. I could, theoretically, stitch someone or something together. Whether I could do so to myself, weak as I was, was another question. But I also confidently believed in Mirena¡¯s abilities. ¡°Am I pulling this out, or are you?¡± I asked, putting a hand on the shard of steel in my gut.


    ¡°I¡­,¡± Mirena started, then looked me over. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. Tell me when you¡¯re ready, and I¡¯ll count down,¡± she decided. I nodded to her, once in understanding then a second time to confirm I was ready. She replied, suddenly, by kissing me, hard and firm for a few moments. I suppose it was a good luck kiss, but it certainly felt like more than that. I think she needed it as much as I did after the events of the day. Her augmetic hand found its way into mine over the course of the kiss, and there it stayed when our lips parted, that I might squeeze her hand from the pain I was about to feel. ¡°You sure?¡± she asked me. I nodded again. ¡°Three,¡± she began, and then pain exploded in my gut and burned through my body. I most definitely screamed and hissed. ¡°Two one,¡± she said quickly afterward, tossing the shrapnel aside with a gentle grin. She then immediately got to work on suturing the wound, which was also terribly painful unto itself, and for that matter our hands had to part ways.


    When I had composed myself despite the pain, and after panting for a few moments to gather my breath and my wits, I called to her. ¡°Mirena.¡± She looked up to me, not saying anything. ¡°Thank you.¡± She continued looking at me for a moment more, then nodded before returning to closing my wound. Her beautiful silver eyes had been trembling. Pain. Fear. Horror, not the kind that keeps you up at night but that pushes you out of bed in a cold sweat before sunlight crests your home. She was, that I could tell, physically unharmed¡ªperhaps a bit jolted/shaken from our crash landing¡ªbut the day had wounded her very deeply.


    When she had finished stitching my wound shut and had slapped a bandage over it, she rose to leave my side for some reason or another, but I reached my augmetic out to her and grabbed her arm. ¡°Come here,¡± I told her, and pulled her nearer to me as I sat up, beginning to move my arm into a position to hug her. I never quite managed the task before she tackled me back against the medicae again, pressing her head between mine and my shoulder and squeezing at me more tightly than Bliss or Lucene ever had. The sobbing followed naturally, just as my hands began to settle on her backside. She had, at that point, been pinning herself against me somewhat sideways, but eventually crawled onto my medicae unit herself and, subsequently, onto me entirely. I did not mind; this was far from the first time Mirena had laid upon me in a medicae unit. And this time, more than even on Hestia Majoris, she and I needed rest.


    So we rested.


    Mirena spent about an hour in a state of emotional-wreckedness before running out of tears to loose. She then spent another hour pulling herself together over my shoulder. It was no pleasure of mine to be witness to the pain of someone I so cared about, but I would be lying if I said I was physically uncomfortable in the arms of Mirena Law, or to have her in my arms. I spent those two hours contentedly, save for the simmering anger at whatever had caused the events of the day that had wounded us so. Regardless, when those two hours were up and Mirena returned to some semblance of self-control, I told her, ¡°We¡¯ll need to talk about the day. Now, or soon. Up to you.¡±


    ¡°There was so much¡­,¡± she began, but her voice trailed off.


    ¡°Too much,¡± I agreed. ¡°I have subjects of my own to broach with you, but is there anything you wish to speak of first?¡±


    ¡°The daemons¡­that¡¯s not the first time we¡¯ve seen of their kind together,¡± she stammered, sitting up on my gut and placing her hands on my chest. She was there on Thantalus, just as I was. The Bloodletter of today was not her first. ¡°They don¡¯t¡­they don¡¯t so much haunt me as they did at first. They¡¯re just¡­another Xenos filth to me, something alien, something that doesn¡¯t belong. I can rationalize that,¡± she shrugged, sniffled once, then sniffled a second time. Still a bit nasally from her cry. ¡°But the¡­that damned wall. The smiling wall. What the frig. Why would such a thing exist, what sadistic frigger could take pleasure in being or causing that? Of preying on the mind like that? What¡¯s the point of it, of them?¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t a point, and it¡¯s why they don¡¯t deserve to live,¡± I answered. She nodded in agreement before raising a hand from my chest to wipe a nonexistent tear from her cheek. The phantom feeling of her tears persisted still.


    ¡°Someone entered my head and it wasn¡¯t you,¡± Mirena asserted then.


    I nodded. ¡°His name is Ouranos. He¡¯s¡­you were there, in that trial room for our sentencing after the Hestian Tragedy. He¡¯s the fifth. The one that set the Hestian Tragedy in motion, pitted us into the Phaenonite Affair, and led us into war with the Iron Warriors.¡±


    ¡°Find and kill them,¡± Mirena muttered, quoting the late Lord Inquisitor Halloid van der Skar, to whom I had once reported. Indeed, she remembered my orders as well as I did.


    ¡°Yes. And I intend to. Ouranos is a right damned bastard, an enemy of every one of us, of the Imperium, of everything mankind is made of. I had intended to speak of him when we rejoined the rest of the team, get you all up to date. I don¡¯t know all there is to know about him, but I can¡¯t fight the fight that¡¯s coming with soldiers that don¡¯t know what I do. Inquisitorial secrecy will only get us killed, and see him to victory, which cannot be allowed,¡± I declared. Mirena nodded, either in understanding or agreement. Perhaps in both.


    I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯ll tell her about me. I never expected it, but I was profoundly caught off guard by Cronos¡¯s interjection then.


    I must have evidenced my surprise, as Mirena called to me. ¡°Cal?¡±


    ¡°Just a twitch of pain,¡± I suggested, covering my surprise in a wince and reaching for the bandage of my recent wound. It was, however, obscured under one of Mirena¡¯s thighs. So I settled for rubbing that instead. ¡°Anything else you want to discuss?¡±


    ¡°The¡­there was a world out there,¡± she started, but could not continue in light of her horrified wonder of the memory I had tried to hide from her.


    ¡°No, not a world, a hell. It¡¯s not something you want to see again or explore,¡± I started.


    ¡°Oh, surely not!¡± she agreed.


    ¡°And Mirena,¡± I continued, then bit my lip and tilted my head back for a moment. When I returned to looking at her, I chose my words with the utmost care. ¡°Listen to me, now, Mirena. I say what I am about to say because I love you. You and I have seen behind a curtain no mortal creature is equipped to know even exists. The Warp, and the things that spawn from it, corrupts through temptation. In the days, months, and years that follow for you, you will wonder about it. You will call into question that which we know to be sacred today. There will be periods of doubt. You¡¯ll want to know. You can¡¯t. Mirena, this curiosity¡­I love you so dearly. If this curiosity ever shows a hint of becoming more to you than that, you must tell me. Do you understand?¡± she nodded slowly. ¡°You and I have played this game for centuries, now. You¡¯re a big girl, so I won¡¯t mince words further: Death is a better fate for you than the predations of the Warp. I can grant you death. I can spare you from the Warp. And trust me when I say that that would be a truly merciful end. That is the best I can do for you. You need to want that, to prefer death over your curiosity. I¡¯m so, so sorry, Mirena. No soul deserves this, and certainly not yours,¡± I explained, still rubbing one of her thighs, and having taken up one of her hands in mine as I spoke.


    Touching speech. Do you lean toward death as an escape from me? Do you believe I would let you have it?


    ¡°Cal,¡± she replied, voice a whisper. ¡°Thank you. I love you too. More than you love me, even, I suspect, though it is no competition. I understand. I do. And I understand that you, for your role in this great and terrible game, must ever be skeptical of my response. In fact, I am grateful for that, that you¡¯d look out for me where I cannot. But who looks out for you, Cal? You saw all that I did¡ªperhaps more, on account of your mind. Who would grant you death, if you need it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not for you to be concerned with,¡± I answered, and Mirena, for the first time in our lives, slapped me across the face. She had not so much as jokingly struck me since being reprimanded for such following the Hestian Tragedy. But there was a definitive, intentional weight to the slap she gave me then, as my cheek can attest.


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    ¡°Callant!¡± she pleaded, shaking her head. ¡°I am concerned about you. That¡¯s the whole frigging point! I love you. Don¡¯t you get that? Don¡¯t you understand what that means? Tell me, who saves you from yourself? Because there has to be someone. It¡¯s me if there isn¡¯t, and you damn well don¡¯t get to tell me otherwise, not after everything we¡¯ve seen and done together.¡±


    Now holding my cheek instead of her thigh, I managed a laugh, then admitted, ¡°Well, I suppose it¡¯s you, then. Maybe also Bliss. Perhaps you two would need to share the whole ¡®saving me¡¯ thing.¡±


    Mirena nodded, and then at last managed a grin of her own. ¡°Wasn¡¯t I just saying that we should invite her along on these vacations? And damn, if we had her around now, I¡¯d definitely feel a little better about things, I suppose. You may want to warm up to the idea of being shared between us,¡± she giggled.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like the worst thing,¡± I acknowledged.


    ¡°Not for me and her, no,¡± she giggled again, smile widening. She then patted my chest. ¡°Do you want to spend the night here, Cal?¡±


    ¡°As opposed to the great outdoors?¡±


    ¡°No, you idiot, I meant on this medicae unit. Like old times? Or would you prefer looking for the barracks?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Here I suppose. Close access to first-aid supplies seems like a decent argument in favor,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re probably warm and cozy under this excellent ass of mine, but your arms are no suitable blanket. I want to look around for some amenities, if I can find any. You stay right here, though,¡± she suggested, rising off me to stand to her feet.


    ¡°You are rather cozy, yes,¡± I laughed. ¡°Take Drepane with you. I have my mind to wield, and will follow you as best I can in that regard, but you need a suitable weapon too,¡± I explained, unsheathing and handing her my Nemesis falchion.


    ¡°I¡¯m not much skilled with one of these,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°Would you prefer to punch the monsters of the night?¡± I offered. She understood, and took my weapon into her grasp. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. You¡¯re one of the most capable women I know.¡±


    ¡°One of?¡±


    ***


    Mirena was unsure about having me part with Drepane at first, but she came to appreciate the weapon¡¯s presence, even if merely for the light it gave off. She held it horizontally before her face, as though brandishing a torch, illuminating her surroundings as she wandered through Firestation Ariadne, abandoned as it was. She did not fear growing lost or being unable to find her way back to me; not only did she have a strong internal compass, she also knew I was watching over her and could direct her as needed. And of the rest of her worries, she found Drepane to notably quell her fears. Not completely, but the Nemesis weapon did seem to calm her once it had been engaged. Was it its psychic resonance that ebbed her mind nearer to peace? Perhaps. But she wagered that most of it was due to the weapon¡¯s low, droning hum, a regular whitenoise to focus on aside from her haunting thoughts.


    Mirena had never been inside a Firestation before¡ªand neither had I¡ªso her journey was indeed akin to wandering. There was also alas a dearth of maps or guides on the walls of the facility; nothing to guide a wayward soul through its many labyrinthine halls. She found, in her travels, a number of engineering bays and weapons stations, which was not surprising to anyone. It was a military base, after all, as most were on Quintus. She also found a voxstation, which was to me a delight and a big discovery¡ªwe would be spending much time there together in the hours ahead, I imagined, trying to contact my retinue.


    It was, however, upon entering the canteen for the facility that Mirena¡¯s search ended. She took a moment to look around following her entry, perhaps to scan for rations of food left behind, but did not intend to stay long. When she turned to leave, however, a great ceramite arm reached out from the darkness and into her light, gripping her augmetic hand and the hilt of Drepane. Mirena let out a yeep! before the arm flicked a finger into Drepane¡¯s blade, knocking the weapon out of Mirena¡¯s grasp and sending it sliding along the floor, where it continued to hum on its own. ¡°You fell from the sky,¡± asserted her unknown assailant.


    ¡°I¡­I¡­I did, yes. You¡­you scared me, Astartes. What is your name and rank?¡± she asked the giant next to her, both of them now shrouded in shadow.


    ¡°Name and rank? Rannek, Prot¨¦g¨¦-Smith under Valeran Mortoc. Identify yourself,¡± the Iron Warrior commanded, powering on and engaging its cybernetic enhancements, illuminating the outline of his form with accursed, dim lights. Mirena¡¯s eyes widened in horror.


    ¡°I¡­I am¡­I¡­,¡± she stammered, bewildered and terrified.


    ¡°You are Imperial, yes. That much is obvious¡ªyour flesh is tight, not taut, as would be becoming of those you call the Lost and the Damned. We are enemies, then. Sit,¡± Rannek ordered of her, releasing her arm from his grasp. ¡°I will shoot you if you run. Sit. Identify yourself,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°I¡­my name is Mirena Law. I am an Agent of the Inquisition,¡± she admitted as she sat at the nearest table. Rannek knelt near to her, Bolter primed on her torso. It seemed, to her, pointless to try to come up with an alias that an Astartes would surely have the wits to see through. If not one of her background and expertise, how could she have survived a falling voidship and broken inside an Inquisitorial Firestation?


    ¡°Then I can only assume my Brothers have shot you out of the skies, and that you now seek refuge here, on this cold, forgotten world,¡± Rannek asserted, bringing his Bolter into view. Mirena¡¯s eyes flicked at first to its short barrel, and then to the two human skulls that dangled from its underbarrel grip.


    ¡°Your¡­your Brothers?¡± Mirena stammered. ¡°What? The war is over. You lost.¡±


    ¡°You lie. Our Siege may have failed to destroy the Dawnshadow, but there will be more, and they will succeed in time. Valeran Mortoc does not fail.¡±


    ¡°He died.¡±


    ¡°As obvious a lie from your Inquisition as any other. Do you believe your own falsehoods, I wonder?¡± Rannek asked, and made a sound that must have been a warped, desecrated form of laughter, but Mirena did not find anything particularly funny.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re¡­you¡¯re alone here. It¡¯s been twenty years. What¡­what the hell have you been doing here for twenty years? No one is coming for¡ª¡± Mirena started, but the barrel of Rannek¡¯s Bolter pressed into her cheek.


    ¡°No more lies, girl. As for what I¡¯ve been up to, that should be obvious to your Agency. Sabotage. Conquest. I have continued the war for these last few years. I have killed your weak defenders and I have laughed as they ran. I have secured this world for Captain Mortoc, as commanded. My mission is complete. Quintus belongs to the Shatter Corps. Your Inquisition has fled from us, as was ever the only possible fate,¡± Rannek declared proudly.


    ¡°Jaegetri,¡± Mirena said then, defiant of the Bolter pointed at her head. ¡°The Citadel of Rust. That¡¯s where Mortoc was. From there he commanded the Skybreaker. Any of this sound familiar to you?¡±


    Rannek paused, an expressionless but nevertheless horrifying helmet glaring at Mirena for several moments more. Then, finally, his Bolter removed itself from her cheek. ¡°This is impressive intel you have gathered,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°I was there. We were. We fought your Brothers on Jaegetri. We killed Mortoc. The war is over. You lost¡ª¡±


    ¡°We have lost nothing while I yet stand!¡± Rannek shouted, shooting to his feet. ¡°As I said, this world is ours! No defenders remain upon it. No, Mortoc lives even still. I know it. He would not have fallen to the incompetence of simple mortals such as yourselves.¡±


    ¡°He fell to my boss, Callant Blackgar,¡± Mirena shot back, a touch irate at Rannek¡¯s denseness. ¡°And he damn well got what was coming to him.¡±


    ¡°Blackgar, as in, Inquisitor Blackgar?¡± Rannek muttered. ¡°The word had gone out to capture him. This is your commanding officer? Where is he?¡±


    ¡°In the sky somewhere, or further beyond. I was hoping to make contact with him from here,¡± Mirena lied at last.


    ¡°Unlikely. Your journey here, as I heard it, would have taken you past the voxstation of this installation,¡± Rannek asserted.


    ¡°True, it did,¡± Mirena confirmed. ¡°But as you also noted, I just fell out of the damn sky. I was looking for a place to sleep and spend the night. Contacting him can wait until tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Change of plans, Mirena Law,¡± Rannek shook his head. ¡°You will contact him now. You will have him send a vessel to recover you. You will not reveal my presence here. I am killing you either way, but your compliance decides how quick I¡¯ll be about it.¡±


    ¡°Charmed,¡± Mirena rolled her eyes. Having rolled them in place, she noted that the light in the room had shifted ever so slightly. And she knew why, hence her increased confidence. But she revealed none of this to Rannek, instead keeping her eyes locked with the slits of his helmet. ¡°I¡¯ve fought your kind for ages, I feel. I¡¯m not much scared of you, Rannek.¡±


    ¡°An unarmed mortal, so defiant? Oh, there must be Iron abound within you. We shall see indeed,¡± Rannek laughed again, accursed a laugh as it was. ¡°On your feet, Mirena Law.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she shook her head, crossing her arms. Rannek raised his Bolter to her and began to take a step in her direction, but did not get his foot down before light burst out from his gut, back to front.


    ¡°You wish to know how Captain Mortoc died?¡± I asked him, both hands on Drepane¡¯s hilt as I twisted it in Rannek¡¯s gut. Rannek stomped his foot down, and began to turn around to face me, though as he did so I drew Drepane out from him so as not to lose it. When he had turned in full, Bolter pointed at my one remaining eye, he froze in place, unable to pull the trigger. Lightning danced from my gaze and along my lips, and in a heartbeat Drepane cleaved through the bastard¡¯s neck, sending his head careening away. ¡°Just like that.¡±


    I released Rannek¡¯s body from my mind¡¯s grip after his head hit the ground a distance away, after which Mirena tackled me in another hug that very nearly floored me to the ground before Rannek himself had fallen. Which, shortly after our hug, he did with a loud thud! As Mirena squeezed me tighter and tighter, I sheathed Drepane along my waist, just in time for the lights of the facility to flicker on. They were weak, in that regard, but functional. Mirena had, after all, found some of the engineering bays. My mind was able to consult the Machine Spirits within enough to get the lights working again.


    ¡°Can¡­you¡­squeeze¡­any¡­harder?¡± I wheezed after a few moments of embracing her, beginning to stumble.


    ¡°Yes, very much so,¡± she whispered, then kissed my cheek before returning to throwing herself over me. ¡°I really hate today.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it really frigging sucks. Let¡¯s find a good place to end the day together, shall we?¡± I managed to get out, voice barely a squeak at that point. Mirena giggled to herself, nodded, and then began to ease up on me. ¡°I think I have the strength to carry you on my back again, if you¡¯d like, Mirena.¡±


    ¡°Cal, I never thought you¡¯d be so forthcoming,¡± she sighed, nodding while encircling me. I did buckle a bit under her weight, but it was far easier to support her weight than to withstand her hugs as of late. Together, we left the last of the Shatter Corps behind us, setting out deeper into Firestation Ariadne. It took perhaps an hour of further adventuring, all of which was thankfully uneventful, before at last we found a barracks and the amenities of its blankets. Mirena asked if I wanted to rest there, rather than returning to the medicae stations, but I did not; I did not want to abandon the supplies of the medicae in case we needed them. Thankfully, I also did not mind carrying Mirena back there, newfound blanket and pillows in tow.

 Chapter 101 - Corruption

    There may have been ample seating available in the voxstation, as chairs matched a semicircle of terminals of various vox channels, but Mirena still chose the side of my lap for her seating arrangement. At first, in fairness, she had chosen the arm of the chair I had taken, but she slid sideways onto me after I tossed my augmetic around her waist. Perhaps that was for the best; the heating systems of Firestation Ariadne were struggling in the absence of the techpriests to sanctify and maintain them. The preservation of body heat was slowly but surely becoming more valuable.


    ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯re doing?¡± Mirena asked after having otherwise sat in silence as I poked and prodded at a voxterminal without much progress.


    ¡°Some idea,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Not much of one.¡±


    ¡°Does the solves-everything-by-himself Inquisitor want a hand?¡± she offered.


    I raised one arm forward, inviting Mirena to take a stab at establishing a vox connection. As she leaned in, I asked, ¡°Do I solve everything by myself?¡±


    ¡°Well you got us through The Atticus and killed that fallen angel all by yourself. I wasn¡¯t of much use in either capacity,¡± Mirena suggested.


    ¡°And yet you pulled me from the wreckage and stitched me back together,¡± I said, taking to giving her a backrub. ¡°You¡¯re also responsible for making our time here far more pleasant than I would manage alone.¡±


    ¡°Ever the flirt with you,¡± Mirena noted with a quiet chuckle. ¡°Dawnshadow? Coldbreed bridge? Or fleetwide?¡± she asked, querying my desired point of contact.


    I thought about it for a moment. Before answering, I knew the Dawnshadow was likely out. It should have been tugged away from Quintus shortly after Mirena and I departed for our vacation. I knew their intended destination for our Inquisitorial Starfort, but Quintus itself had been compromised after being besieged by the Iron Warriors. So that was out. But my fleet had instructions to remain here. In theory, our friends should have been close. The only real question, then, was whether there could have been anyone else listening for a voxcast in the system. And given the events of the last 48 hours, I think anything may have been possible. ¡°Coldbreed,¡± I answered after sifting through my thoughts. ¡°Just the bridge of Coldbreed.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha. Communication will be one-way, so you¡¯re aware. This terminal doesn¡¯t seem to have a means of receiving replies, and frankly I am not sure which of the others would,¡± she warned me. I nodded. That would have to do. ¡°Out of curiosity, did you take Hans in because of his proficiency with vox equipment?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t the only reason,¡± I replied, grinning. ¡°Hans Okustin was an excellent find in many respects all those years ago. But yes, I have never found myself very capable when it comes to handling most technologies which we survive by. So it helped his chances with me, certainly. I valued his technical affinity then, as I value yours and Varnus¡¯s now. Well, at this moment, certainly yours more than anyone else¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Well, because I¡¯m so valuable to you,¡± Mirena started, then sat up and leaned back against my front, turning to face me. ¡°You¡¯re set up and ready to broadcast.¡± She then leaned in and pecked my lips. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here,¡± she smiled afterward.


    ¡°Stole the words from my mouth,¡± I muttered, grinning, and then pulled our chair closer to the voxstation. ¡°Which do I press?¡± Mirena pointed to a black, padded button on the central console of the terminal. ¡°Alright. Here goes,¡± I nodded, then cleared my throat and leaned in nearer to the vox input. ¡°Command-1 to Cold, Command-1 to Cold, we are grounded and requesting aid and exfil. Located at Fire Ariadne. We cannot receive instruction. I repeat, we are grounded at Fire Ariadne and requesting aid and exfil, over.¡±


    ¡°And be quick about it, damnit,¡± Mirena chimed in, ignoring any pretense of talking in code, and not for lack of knowhow. I couldn¡¯t help but grin, and released the vox for the time being as I sat back, pulling Mirena back with me. She threw an arm over my shoulders and snuggled up against me, then asked, ¡°Now what?¡±


    ¡°Now we wait. I plan to stay here and repeat that message¡ªmy part of it, anyway¡ªevery few minutes. Actually, I¡¯ll probably need some water eventually,¡± I said, raising my eyebrows in realization.


    Mirena giggled to herself, then leaned in near to me and whispered, ¡°Here.¡± She then put her lips to mine and continued from where we had left off earlier in the morning, climbing over me and holding me tight. Her spontaneous compulsion lasted only a few minutes, which was the only unusual part of our sudden kissing, after which Mirena lifted wetted, drooling lips over mine before licking her mouth over. ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°Not worse,¡± I admitted.


    She giggled again, patted my chest twice, then rose off me and stood to her feet, stretching her arms over her head. ¡°I¡¯ll find you something to drink. Been meaning to stretch my legs anyway.¡±


    ¡°Be careful,¡± I warned her prematurely, after which she moved over to the table of vox terminals near us and slid her signature laspistol into her grasp, which she then waved around to demonstrate she had it in mind. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will,¡± she winked. ¡°I¡¯m quite certain you find it difficult to move me out of your gaze, as most would.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re starting to sound like Carmichael,¡± I warned her.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s a bad thing,¡± she shrugged, then walked back to me and patted my shoulder before kissing the crown of my head. ¡°Back soon, Cal.¡±


    ***


    After her run-in with Rannek, Mirena was dreading returning to the canteen, even though the Iron Warrior was without his head and the lights were now operational. But it was her dread that moved her so; a special, invaluable quality of my Agent, she possessed the psychological need to face her fears head-on, cutting them off at the source. I wondered if that was something taught by the Navis Imperialis, or if it was just a unique quality of Mirena. I suspected the latter; I had known all too many cowards in the Navy.


    When she arrived at the canteen, the first thing Mirena did was affirm what she already knew: that Rannek¡¯s corpse was lying in the far corner of the room, motionless, as ever it had been since the day prior. She nodded to herself, heaved a deep sigh in and out, and then released a shiver. Was it her fear that chilled her, then, or the room temperature? She suspected the latter, noting the frost buildup upon Rannek¡¯s body and elsewhere in the room. Quintus was too damnably cold for her liking.


    Mirena moved across the canteen to the serving counter, behind which she filled a foam cup of water for me, then decided that she herself wanted something with a bit more oomph and, more importantly, warmth for herself. Coffee was the first thing that came to mind, and while she was certain that Firestation Ariadne never had any amazing blend, she did manage to find some instabrew powder left behind in the evacuation. Her eyes flicked to Rannek. Still headless, still motionless, still across the room. She shivered again, then began her brew.


    You¡¯d think insta-something would brew a little quicker, she thought to herself a few moments later, but soon enough she found herself in possession of a warm cup of coffee which she was sure tasted absolutely mediocre. Its warmth instilled her with improved confidence, yet still she found herself shivering as she left, laspistol holstered along her waist as she carried the two drinks out of the canteen. It was from that confidence that she chose not to glance to Rannek another time on her way, or so she thought.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    But in reality, she did not look at Rannek¡¯s corpse because it was not there.


    Having been staring down at the coffee and water in her hands, the first thing Mirena noticed upon exiting into the halls of Firestation Ariadne was her own breath. It was cold enough, suddenly, to be visible amidst the steam given off by the coffee in her grasp. As the lights flickered through the hall, Mirena¡¯s periphery then caught a shadow to her right. She glanced to see what it was, and dropped both drinks to her feet at once. That any of the hot coffee splashed onto her feet probably saved her life, as the sudden burning thereof gave her the motivation to kick her legs up and away from the splash of coffee. She stumbled back from the spill, then broke into a sprint back into the canteen, behind the counter, through a door to the pantry at the back.


    Rannek, headless though he was, crashed through the far wall of the canteen shoulder-first, and barreled toward her. The serving counter was no obstacle for the body of a Space Marine, especially not one twitching and leaking from the grasp of the Warp. As Rannek crashed through the back wall of the canteen into the pantry, Mirena dove back into the hallway through a rear exit of the room, moving horizontally to Rannek¡¯s momentum. She screamed for help, for me, for the Throne. The only answer she received was the low, thudding footsteps that barreled toward her before slamming through another wall into the halls behind her, plascrete flying everywhere while sparks flung through the debris of failing lightwork.


    Twenty minutes. It had taken her twenty minutes to reach the canteen from the voxstation, at a leisurely pace. Damn our hubris, the thought flicked through her head. Why was Imperial architecture so massive? Bigger was not better when you were running for your life. Could she take those twenty down to ten? Five, in a full-sprint? She did not know. Could she even last that long, get that far from an Astartes on her tail? From the daemon within the Astartes? She did not know. But she had to try. She slid around any corner she could, letting Rannek¡¯s body crash through walls of plascrete due the difference in agility between them. She did not imagine it would help her lose her tail, but it would have sufficed for buying her time, crucial and limited as it was.


    Ice.


    There was ice in the halls now. Was it always there? It must have been; ice did not just appear so suddenly, right? Unless daemonic or psychic presence could chill the areas around¡ªThrone! she thought to herself. How could I be so stupid? Quintus was cold, but not flash-freeze levels of cold. None of that mattered, not as one of her feet slid ahead of the other from an already-uneasy pace, unbalanced for its briskness. As Mirena tumbled through the air, the last thought to flick through her head was not of her self-described failings, not of me, and not of the Throne. It was of Castecael. The goodbyes they had shared before our vacation were, in that moment, not properly sufficient for Mirena.


    And then she hit the ground, hard, and tumbled head over heel as her haste slowed to a standstill. Body aching from the fall, she nevertheless shot a hand to her waist and drew her laspistol, firing wild at the headless foe that had pursued her. None of her shots connected, all going wide from panic and pain. Not until the shadow of the beast fell over her did she finally manage to strike the Iron Warrior¡¯s armor, creating a small, harmless singe that faded away just as soon as it appeared.


    Guess that¡¯s that, then, she thought to herself, closing her eyes.


    ***


    +What is its name?+ I demanded, running through the halls, Drepane already primed.


    Its name? Are you asking for my help, Blackgar?


    +I¡¯m asking you for a name, cretin.+


    And yet you won¡¯t even use mine. I thought we were closer than that. What makes you think I even know its name?


    +I assume all you foul spawn know each other,+ I answered, darting around a corner and pressing a hand to the far wall around it in the process. I may not have crashed through that wall as Rannek would have, but I was far from as lithe as Mirena could be.


    How very reductive. If I give you its name¡ªassuming I know it¡ªwhat do I get in return?


    +I¡¯m not bartering with you, daemon.+


    You better start if you want her to live.


    That¡¯s how it starts. A little glimpse, a tiny favor. That is how Chaos takes its hold on the weak of will. Give it an inch, and it will claim the galaxy. No, the predations of the beyond demanded to be fought at every turn, for every last bit of land in all the cosmos. ¡°No single man or woman is worth the Imperium,¡± van der Skar¡¯s words echoed in my mind. Mirena was not worth the Imperium. She wasn¡¯t. I knew that. So why did I still want the name of the daemon that was pursuing her? It was the doubt, I recognized even then. The doubt that the price of a name could be so great, that it could grant Cronos some power or greater hold over me. Mirena¡¯s life? For what? What was her life worth, then, if not even a name?


    +What do you want?+ I asked. At the time, I had thought I just wanted to hear Cronos out. Perhaps something could be gleamed from the expression of its desires that I did not already know, something I could use against it.


    Lasfire in the distance. Mirena was making a last-ditch effort against her assailant. Even against an unpossessed Iron Warrior, a laspistol would not have saved her. And against a daemon in an Iron suit of cybernetic flesh, she may as well have been unarmed.


    You already know what I want. I want you to live, Cronos answered me. Indeed, not much to gleam from that. In the not-so-distant future, you may find yourself making an impossible choice. I want you to live. To choose life. I will not be alone in this desire; there will be others who mistake life for being less harmless than death.


    +Harmless to who, me or you?+ I asked, gritting my teeth as I rounded one final corner, red light flaring across my view.


    Will we live to find out? it asked in reply, and added a chuckle of its own to boot.


    +The name,+ I demanded, Drepane whirring, seething, thirsting for the taste of mankind¡¯s enemies from my augmetic grasp. Rannek was in view, standing over Mirena. She had slipped, fallen. As I had in my duel with Valeran Mortoc, I focused my mind on myself, enhancing my physical abilities to reach them faster. I also tugged Mirena a bit closer to me, though more to pull her out from Rannek¡¯s immediate clutches.


    Its name, Cronos started, then made a noise that to me sounded like a low growling, but I believe it was just a musing. Before I even had the name, Drepane sunk into Rannek¡¯s torso, front-to-back this time. Dim-yellow pus oozed out of the wound I had cut in his chest yesterday, and the cauterized gash across his neck that had severed his head from his shoulders had opened, congealing anew as the daemon writhed inside the Astartes¡¯s body. Is Gangrustrol, a vile, putrid thing that I would not mind seeing eradicated.


    ¡°Oh Merciful Emperor, drive out the presence of the Enemy! Cast it out! Burn, Gangrustrol, in my rage and be incinerated in the Light of the God-Emperor!¡± I roared, thrusting my birth-hand forward and unleashing the sum total of my remaining psykana upon the daemon. It was a greater show of force from me than ever I had managed before, and Rannek¡¯s body¡ªcybernetics included¡ªevaporated on the spot. The halls beyond exploded outward, too, crushed under a wall of psychic force. A translucent, green, pestilent thing remained, thrust away from me by a few yards. In the Low Gothic, one may think of it as a spirit. But I had more choice words for it, as suddenly exhausted as I may have been. ¡°I am Callant Blackgar, abomination, and you are nothing before my wrath, and we are nothing before the Throne. Thy kind, Diabolus, finds no purchase here, and I declare thee Excommunicate! Imperator Vult!¡±


    ¡°The Throne you swear to, mortal,¡± Gangrustrol hissed, attempting to remain corporeal before me. It was failing. ¡°Is weaker than you think, especially now.¡±


    ¡°Were it so, I would not have the strength to end you, daemon, and yet,¡± I started, and then thrust Drepane forward this time, stabbing at the ghastly daemon ahead. The blade made no connection, but that was not my intent; another wave of my psykana screamed forth from Drepane¡¯s tip, and further eviscerated the scene ahead in psychic lightning, even if it replaced my view with dancing lights. I remained standing only long enough to see Gangrustrol vaporized before my eye, after which I fell to my knees, dropped Drepane, and then collapsed forward onto my hands.


    I was probably about to fall into a slump on the ground, but was pulled to my feet¡ªonly barely¡ªin Mirena¡¯s grasp, after which she fell onto me and began to cry over my shoulder once more. I did not have the strength to hold her, but she seemed able enough to keep us upright. I rested myself against her, dazed and weary, and had merely the strength with which to gently hug her which she cried out her fears over me. Rannek, and his vile possessor, were no more.


    Alas, this Inquisitor did not solve it all by himself.

 Chapter 102 - Recovery

    There was not a single moment to follow, in Firestation Ariadne, that Mirena let me out of her sight. Wherever we went, we went together. Restroom? Together. Shower? Together, and better for it, as the waters were quite cold. There was not a moment in which I was not the focus of Mirena¡¯s gaze, save for when she closed her eyes to sleep in my arms. And throughout all that time, we were also always glued at the hip, or more intimately still. The night of the daemonic incursion and banishment involved very little romanticism, though our bodies were still pressed against one another for its entirety. The nights to follow, however, were very, very sexualized. Was it her trauma that so-motivated that? No, I learned, not exactly. Instead, the closeness of death, that looming sensation that had washed over us both and refused to depart hence, made Mirena treat every day, nay, every hour as her last. And she wanted to die in love, rather than feeling anything else.


    I suppose I could not fault her that.


    It had been two days when I had saved Mirena from Rannek the second time. It was five when the heat went out, never to return. We grew even closer still, then, by necessity as much as on account of our emotional compulsions. After a week in Firestation Ariadne, while we laid together atop the medicae unit we had been calling home, Mirena asked me if we were going to die there. I told her it was very likely, and half expected another bout of sex to follow. It did not. Instead, she nodded peacefully, then snuggled against me, holding me close. ¡°All the wants and should¡¯ves¡­and they are many,¡± Mirena muttered. I nodded in agreement. ¡°Everything we should have said to our friends. But at least there¡¯s you. At least we go into the dark together. There¡¯s no one with whom I¡¯d rather be at the end. Not even Cast. I have you. And¡­I¡¯m almost happy, I think. I love you, Cal.¡±


    ¡°I love you too, Mirena,¡± I replied, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. ¡°Hell of a vacation, huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had better,¡± she agreed, then pulled herself up my body to peck my lips once more. ¡°But I think I¡¯ve had worse, too. Without you. Cal¡­I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she shook her head.


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°You deserve to die better.¡±


    ¡°Better than in the arms of a lover? Better than in a hug from Mirena Law, Queen of Hugs and Kisses? There isn¡¯t all that much better,¡± I suggested, to which she intensified her hug of me and kissed me yet again. Our lips did not part that night, not while I remained conscious.


    The cold was replaced with warmth, uncomfortable warmth, but the darkness and the lips remained. Mine were glued to another, of one far taller than I. Penitent. No, Lucene. Why did I think of the name Penitent?


    It should have been obvious: I was kissing Lucene when she went by Penitent. We had not kissed in this scene. I recognized the surrounding area at once: Hestia Majoris. On our way to Thaddeus Scayn¡¯s hab, before he was murdered. Lucene¡ªthen Penitent¡ªand I had hid in an alley and faked kissing to fall away to the backdrop of the Hive City, so as not to arouse suspicion of our appearance. As I said, we had not kissed, instead only mimicking the movements thereof. But in this moment, as I lived it then, Penitent was very much aroused, even if our suspicions were not.


    She was fervent, passionate, dominating. I came to know all these things of her, in time, in bed, but not then. Not there, not in Abseradon or in the rampant stench and sweltering heat of Hestia Majoris. I tried to object, to note that this was wrong, that this was not how things had gone. But who¡¯s to say? I could not open my mouth to speak, as it was too busy being flattened under the lips of my lover.


    I understood what was happening eventually. As Penitent pressed me against the wall of the alley, as she lifted me into the air and pinned me against her body, as she squeezed me until every inch of my form ached, I knew and understood my fate. I was dying. And though I may have been dying in Mirena¡¯s arms, my mind flicked to Penitent, to the first true love of my life, to my wife, to the woman I had so adored for centuries. To Lucene Flint. I was dying. And she was killing me. She was my end, as Ouranos had prescribed.


    There are worse ways to go, I should note.


    Abseradon darkened, darker than it ever had grown. The great Hive City began to feel small as shadows crept along its spires and condensed the world around me. Eventually, the floor beneath Penitent¡¯s feet was gone. For all I knew, I was underneath her then, she laying atop me as Mirena was in the real. And I certainly felt as though that was the case. Yet still, Penitent and I kissed, every last drop of air fed into the lungs of my lover. I felt like Sigird¡¯s factory had fallen on me again, or that the entire city had collapsed atop us. In the infancy of our romantic relationship, Lucene had often rendered me all but inert, dominating me as only she could. This was so much more than that. Death was unimaginably overpowering, and yet it was welcome all the same. If given the choice to live a life that a daemon wanted me to live or to die in love to Lucene Flint, I do not imagine I would waste much time pondering my decision.


    Live, Cal. Live for me. It was not Cronos that spoke to me then. It was Lucene herself. Yet our lips, in this darkened, deathly lovescape, had not parted and she had not spoken to me. I had not heard these words; rather, they simply appeared to me, they became known to me. The words felt so very far. Fleeting, distant. I don¡¯t want you to die here. Live on, even without me.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    No, I thought to myself as the delirium began to settle in. I am quite sure I am dying with you. I reached a point at which I could not move, not even to twitch or open my eyes, and every corner of my body raged in an inferno of pain. And yet it remained lovely as Penitent carried on against me, or atop me, or in some other orientation to me. It did not much matter, and I did not much know.


    While I had not heard Lucene speak her unspoken plea for my life moments ago, I did hear a low, heavy stomping approach whatever remained of me in Penitent¡¯s grasp. I imagine that, then, was Death, and this was the foreplay before the end, though it certainly felt a few steps beyond foreplay. The stomping got closer. The world got darker. Penitent¡¯s love grew harder.


    And then it all ended.


    And so did I.


    ***


    Beep.


    Nothing. An interminably long nothing.


    Beep.


    Well evidently there was something, Callant, you moron. It was beeping. And how ear-piercingly loud it was at that. Though anything was deafening compared to nothing.


    Beep.


    It was a heartrate. Mine, I assumed, though I could not feel it within myself and it felt as though there were decades between the pulses. But the tone of the medicae device was unmistakable; I had awoken in a medicae unit all-too often and familiarized myself with the sensory markings of its care.


    If it was a heartrate, I heard it thousands of times, at least, before hearing anything else. That something else, when it arrived, was but a murmur at first. Eventually, it grew into voices and speech, both speakers that I recognized but could not find the wherewithal to reply to. ¡°Are you jealous?¡± Castecael asked.


    ¡°Of who? Her?¡± Lucene replied, seeking clarification. There was a pause. ¡°Not really. Are you of him?¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t imagine they enjoyed themselves much down there, save for the physical. I¡¯m content to let them have that, that sliver of happiness, in light of the unknown horrors they must have faced together,¡± Castecael answered.


    ¡°Agreed. I only worry about the guilt Cal will inevitably feel. He¡¯s at his worst when he feels he¡¯s wronged me,¡± Lucene said.


    ¡°Ugh, Mirena¡¯s the same way; she¡¯s insufferably repentant¡ªpardon the word choice¡ªwhenever she indulges elsewhere,¡± Castecael replied, a hint of fluster in her voice.


    A pause followed. I could not speak to the time, as I did not feel I had a firm grasp of it. But, eventually, Lucene added, ¡°She is very pretty, though.¡±


    ¡°And he very handsome,¡± Castecael returned. ¡°Lucky us, hm?¡±


    ¡°Truly,¡± Lucene laughed. Castecael joined her in that.


    ¡°Having¡­fun¡­you two?¡± Mirena croaked out. Her voice was much nearer to me, and yet felt as though it was above and behind me. I had been trying to speak the whole time, too, both physically and mentally. But it seemed I was not getting through.


    ¡°Ah! She¡¯s awake! Quick, stop talking about them!¡± Lucene joked, laughing further.


    ¡°Funny,¡± Mirena grumbled. ¡°Where¡¯s¡­Cal?¡±


    ¡°Well currently you¡¯ve buried his face in your chest, doll,¡± Castecael answered.


    ¡°I wanted¡­to keep him¡­warm,¡± Mirena muttered.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you managed that in spades,¡± Castecael chuckled.


    ¡°You¡­left us¡­like this?¡± Mirena managed.


    A pause, perhaps occupied by a shrug. ¡°You¡¯ve used him as bedding for a good chunk of each of your lives. And as it was on Hestia Majoris, you were not negatively impacting his recovery. I figured we may as well let you lovebirds roost together until you both wake,¡± Castecael suggested. ¡°Never a good thing, ecologically, to pluck a bird from its roost.¡±


    ¡°Alas, Cal always was a heavy sleeper. At least with me; I suppose I had that effect on him,¡± Lucene offered, still giggling to herself. ¡°So you can have him for a little while yet.¡±


    ¡°How¡­long?¡±


    ¡°The Atticus crashed upon Quintus ten days ago,¡± Castecael reported.


    Lucene offered a more thorough explanation of events after Castecael¡¯s introduction. ¡°We scrambled survey teams immediately, but we focused on the wreckage of The Atticus at first. We surveyed that wreck, but found no survivors. Plenty of daemons, though, which I¡¯m sure you¡¯re not surprised by,¡± Lucene offered.


    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Mirena muttered.


    ¡°Right. It was three days before we found the glimmer of hope in the vessel you piloted out from The Atticus. Your bioimprint was in its handler logs. We knew you had flown it, we knew you wouldn¡¯t have left Cal behind, and we found the tracks¡ªsnowed over though they were¡ªthat you two left behind you. Five days later, Galen found you, on Zha¡¯s instructions. We found you all but frozen together in the position you¡¯re in now,¡± Lucene explained. ¡°You¡¯ve been here for the other two days, recovering.¡±


    ¡°We¡­tried¡­to¡­vox¡­you,¡± Mirena whimpered, short of breath as much from the difficulty of speaking as from the trauma of the last few days.


    ¡°We figured. But the radioactive emissions from the reactor core of The Atticus scrambled vox communication on a continental scale. I¡¯m sorry,¡± Lucene answered.


    ¡°You¡¯re here now, Mirena,¡± Castecael added, and I felt increased pressure upon me, if only slightly. I imagine Castecael was rubbing Mirena¡¯s backside encouragingly. ¡°Both of you. Together. Still. You¡¯re both safe and sound, together.¡±


    ¡°As ever,¡± Lucene added, getting a snorting laugh from Castecael. ¡°Can I trust you to keep my husband in one piece for me?¡±


    ¡°Forever,¡± Mirena answered, on the verge of tears.


    ¡°Good. Thank you for everything you¡¯ve done for him, Mirena Law,¡± Lucene said, and then left the room, content with the state of my care.


    ¡°And thank you, Cal, for everything you¡¯ve done for her,¡± Castecael told me. I think I heard her blow me a kiss, too, before pecking one of Mirena¡¯s cheeks. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a bit, doll. Will you be OK on your own?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­on my own,¡± Mirena answered in a sniffle. Castecael kissed Mirena¡¯s other cheek, then, before departing after Lucene. ¡°Am I?¡± Mirena asked then.


    +No,+ I managed, if only just.


    ¡°Good boy,¡± Mirena giggled, and somehow found the strength to hug me more tightly than she already was. ¡°We made it home, Cal. Throne knows how we survived this vacation of ours.¡±


    +I¡­get to plan¡­the next one,+ I messaged her then, prompting a blurting laugh from her. This one had been her idea. All of them had been so far. +Your chest¡­is very warm¡­by the way,+ I told her then.


    ¡°Glad to hear that. You¡¯ll be staying there a while yet,¡± she said, giggling again. ¡°Somewhat because I can¡¯t move much, and I can¡¯t imagine you¡¯re in a better state. But mostly because you¡¯re right where you ought to be, so get used to it.¡±

 Chapter 103 - Clandestine

    Quintus may as well have been a snowball from so far away. Now, looking down upon it from a viewport aboard the Coldbreed, the world seemed so harmless and innocent. So far from the hell that had accosted us upon its surface. And was Rannek the only survivor of the Iron Warriors down there? He was the only one he knew about, but that did not mean anything. There could have been more, and I was all but certain other daemons lurked in the coldest reaches of the planet¡¯s snowy storms.


    Thankfully the planet had already been evacuated and stripped of salvageable resources, so the Exterminatus I had ordered of the ice-covered rock could be carried out quick. It would bring me as much peace to know Quintus was no more as it would provide the security that any daemons that had survived The Atticus¡¯s crash would subsequently be eradicated in Divine Hellfire. ¡°And there were no daemonic incursions on any of our vessels?¡± I asked then.


    ¡°No, Cal, there were not,¡± Silas answered from behind me while I continued to look on toward Quintus. It would be some hours yet before the planet was eradicated, but still, the world beckoned my gaze.


    ¡°But as you described of your own struggles,¡± Captain Caleb Vakian observed, ¡°we, too, have lost the means for Astropathic communication. The Choir, they say, has gone silent.¡±


    ¡°What of the Navigators?¡± I asked the group behind me.


    ¡°Sir?¡± Caleb answered.


    ¡°The Navigators? Have they peered into the Warp, looked for the Light?¡± I clarified, turning about and facing my retinue.


    ¡°We have not tried to Warp, sir, not without you. They likely have not looked beyond,¡± Caleb explained. ¡°I can have them do so, sir, if you so desire.¡±


    ¡°Please do. Bring some guards with you, however. And by some I mean many. Daemons do not just¡­manifest,¡± I suggested, shuddering at the word as I stepped up to everyone, a curved desk being the sole thing keeping us separate. A few reports were scattered along the desk, but not many; little information had come in to be processed since the Event. That is what we were calling the fall of The Atticus, and every oddity that coincided with it. The Event. ¡°No, I suspect there is a risk, now, that when one looks into the Warp they now more than ever risk pulling something back with them. Why, how, I cannot say. Something, someone, has done this. It has either been done to us, to this fleet, or more widely. We must discern which it is, and fast. Go then, Captain. See what the Navigators can figure out.¡±


    ¡°Very well, Inquisitor,¡± Caleb agreed before departing from the room.


    ¡°There have been nightmares,¡± Castecael reported then, after Caleb had gone. I nodded. Her report still rested on my desk. ¡°A substantial increase in night terrors amidst all staff, coinciding with the Event. If this is a psychic disturbance from the Warp, Cal, it is of a scale the likes of which I have not encountered before. Not even on Thantalus.¡±


    ¡°Whoever it may be that has assailed us so, I am quite certain that assessment is correct, yes,¡± I agreed, as did a few others among my retinue.


    ¡°May I?¡± Zha asked, raising her hand to speak.


    ¡°Please,¡± I smiled. Our crew was civil enough to be a bit beyond raising our hands, yet the savant among us¡ªwho was the youngest, but still more than a century old by now¡ªwas, for her trade, more academic in the way she carried herself.


    ¡°The Eye of Terror is expanding following the Event,¡± Zha asserted. ¡°It is hard to make out how, and impossible to discern why. But its visible influence is growing. And that isn¡¯t something that should happen.¡±


    ¡°No, the Emperor has thus far kept it at bay well enough, so something has indeed changed,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°I think you misunderstand me, Mr. Blackgar,¡± Zha suggested. ¡°I-I don¡¯t mean it shouldn¡¯t happen in the theological sense, but in the temporal one. We¡¯re closer than most of the galaxy to the Eye of Terror, but we¡¯re still pretty far. Lightyears. We shouldn¡¯t be able to see it growing so soon, that visual information should not reach us yet. That¡¯s FTL, that¡¯s¡­that¡¯s the Warp at play.¡±


    ¡°Is it possible the Event is like a wave?¡± Silas suggested. ¡°And that we¡¯re seeing the Eye¡¯s growth now because the wave has hit us, bringing with it the calamity aboard The Atticus and the nightmares alongside that?¡±


    ¡°Doubtful, Silas,¡± I shook my head, as did Zha and Varnus, both of whom likely best understood what I was about to explain. ¡°Time in the Warp doesn¡¯t coincide with time outside it. And yet something happened¡ªthe Event¡ªat the same time in the Warp as beyond. This¡­I can¡¯t pretend to understand it. But whatever happened, it happened in one singular instant, and affected us, all of us, at once. It¡¯s like someone snapped their fingers and the lights went out across the system¡ªor further.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s our play?¡± Galen asked the group. No one had a response.


    I myself shook my head. ¡°I do not know, Galen. Await any intel Captain Vakian may return with. Decide from there. But there is more to tell you all even so. I have kept most of you in the dark for too long. Now the darkness seems to be all around us, and we¡¯ll need to fight it back together. Secrecy is only operationally viable for so long,¡± I explained, then cleared my throat. ¡°When those of us fought the fight we did against the four heretics in Abseradon, I believed there was a fifth pulling the strings. Some of you know I have been under orders to find and kill that fifth. When we dissected the operations of the Phaenonite and pursued them to their source in Absalom, resulting in this timeless curse we find ourselves stricken with, that fifth was confirmed to me. When we waged our war against the Iron Warriors, we did so as pawns to that fifth, as puppets, us and the Iron Warriors both. No longer. The strings are cut, the curtains are pulled back. That fifth is named Ouranos. And he has been behind almost every heresy we have spent our lives stamping out. I do not believe Ouranos is responsible for the Event, but I do believe he is the greatest threat any of us may ever face. And I believe we are about to face him soon.


    ¡°From the best intel we can find, Ouranos is a savant-heretic,¡± I continued, and some eyes glanced to Zha. Zha herself widened her eyes. ¡°Brilliant, in the most profane sense. Smarter than¡­,¡± I started, and then locked eyes with my own savant. ¡°Well, smarter than most everyone in this room. Evil, and dangerous in the extreme. The sort of man¡ªif ever he was such a thing¡ªthat can pull the strings of an Inquisitorial cell, a traitor Astartes Warband, and of us. I have spent some years during the reconstruction of the Dawnshadow in seeing us better armed. Ouranos is why. I firmly believe that Ouranos will give us the most glorious and terrible fight of our lives, and soon. We must be ready for him and whatever he is planning.


    ¡°To that end, I will not keep this a secret either. Ouranos has set his sights on me and on Lucene. It seems he is in the business of engineering ends, that endings are the ritual through which he crafts his worship to whichever blasphemous powers it is he kneels to. He believes he has engineered an end for me, through Lucene, though I know not what that means. We must prove him wrong, not for my sake, not for the sake of anyone aboard this ship, but for the good of the Imperium. Whatever it is he is planning, he cannot succeed,¡± I explained.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Damn right he can¡¯t,¡± Mirena said, sneering, and was met with assent from much of my retinue. Varnus and Lucene, ever the quiet types to begin with, remained so.


    ¡°I appreciate your enthusiasm. I am blessed, truly, to have found such wonderful, capable souls as yours. Which is why this speech pains me so. I do not expect¡­I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll all be here to celebrate a victory, if we find it at all,¡± I told them. ¡°Coming off the back of our war with the Iron Warriors, in which we have lost¡­too many, I deeply insist that you all make your peace with each other and with yourselves. This¡­what¡¯s to come¡­it may be the end of the story for us all. Billions,¡± I insisted. ¡°Tens, hundreds of billions, Ouranos is responsible for killing already, and those are just the ones we know about. Absalom indicated that Ouranos is an enemy of ancient proportions, that the Phaenonite devised his pseudo-immortality to find the time to better strike at Ouranos himself. We number perhaps a hundred, all troops accounted for. We are the greatest hundred I could ever hope to wield, but we cannot allow our arrogance to distract us from killing him, as we must kill him. Even if doing so culls us to the man. All of you, myself, Lucene, if one of us needs to die so as to thwart and destroy Ouranos, that must be a sacrifice we are all willing to make. Do you understand?¡±


    The cheers had fallen away, replaced by somber stoicism. But slowly, following my question, the nodding of heads began, and when one¡ªSilas at first¡ªhad nodded, the others followed. ¡°Good. Very good. Thank you all. I will be asking the impossible of some¡ªif not all¡ªof you very soon. Sooner than any of us would like. I pray you will find it within yourselves to answer, as ever you¡¯ve managed previously. Dismissed. Zha, Silas, Bliss, stay,¡± I ordered, and then turned around, back for another look at Quintus. The snowball in the void was still there.


    I must have stared at it for a long while, then, as eventually Zha broke my concentration. ¡°Mr. Blackgar, sir, is there something you wanted of us?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sorry,¡± I sighed, shaking my head. Still, I did not turn to face them. I was finding it quite difficult to. ¡°First of all, I want you to meet Bliss.¡±


    ¡°Callant?¡± Bliss asked.


    ¡°We are unfortunately well-acquainted,¡± Silas reminded me. ¡°Following the stint on Canicus and Skardak, at least. And then arresting her after Aerialon.


    ¡°Tell them who you are, Bliss,¡± I ordered. ¡°Tell them what you are.¡±


    She paused a moment and bit her lip. Eventually, she nodded, then declared, ¡°I am Seraina Al-Amar¡ªyes, sister to Emile Al-Amar, Emperor protect her still. I¡¯d rather you continue to call me Bliss. I am an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, the same as Zha and Callant.¡±


    ¡°Feeling a bit left out here,¡± Silas muttered.


    ¡°I had oft recommended you join our ranks, brother,¡± I chuckled, having more overtly taken to referring to Silas as a brother to me; he had made it clear I filled the role for him. ¡°Continue, Bliss, please.¡±


    ¡°Before I joined the Inquisition, I was a member of the Officio Assassinorum, more specifically of the Callidus Temple. I am¡­I was a very capable Agent of theirs,¡± she explained. ¡°Callant?¡± she asked, still wondering why I was having her explain herself to them.


    ¡°Lord Caliman, the bastard,¡± I began, and then couldn¡¯t help but smirk and reach for the Rosarius hanging from my neck. ¡°He had assigned Bliss to infiltrate our unit and keep an eye on me. Caliman, you see, was not much trusting of psykers like myself, and put his faith in Bliss to put me down if the need ever arose. Following Amnes Minoris, she revealed herself to me, and joined our retinue more formally, leaving his command. Aside from a regrettable lapse in judgment on Jaegetri, she has since been one of my most trustworthy Agents. But before we continue, I need to ask a question of both of you, Zha and Silas. Who would you kill to keep the Imperium safe?¡±


    ¡°Anyone you asked me to, brother,¡± Silas declared at once.


    ¡°Anyone that needed to die,¡± Zha agreed, herself an Inquisitor who could pass the judgment and sentencing on her own.


    ¡°It¡¯s a common ask that we make of each other to die for the Imperium. But dying is easy. Killing others is more difficult, especially when they¡¯re close,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Cal?¡± Silas asked, again seeking clarity.


    Then, finally, I spun to face the trio, where I found Bliss¡¯s expression had soured. She had had this conversation already, and was none too pleased about it. ¡°Would you kill me to save the Imperium?¡± I asked them at last.


    Silas scoffed, and Zha joined him in an uncomfortable laugh, as though having not understood my question as a joke¡ªbecause it wasn¡¯t¡ªbut wanting to join Silas in laughing at the absurdity of it. But as the realization settled in, the laughing fell to pained confusion. ¡°What are you on about, Mr. Blackgar?¡± Zha managed to ask first.


    ¡°Lord Caliman had tasked Bliss to this at first. Now I see fit to provide her with support. Yours, if you¡¯re up to the challenge. But I won¡¯t go into the details until I¡¯m certain you¡¯re up to it,¡± I explained. ¡°Would you kill me to save the Imperium?¡± I repeated.


    They both hesitated. I admit I anticipated that. Hesitation was defeat, which is why I wanted to burn it out of them now. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m gonna need more to go on, Cal, before I can answer that,¡± Silas said.


    ¡°Well you can¡¯t have it, not until I have my answer, Silas,¡± I shot back, leaning forward onto two outstretched arms which I had placed upon the desk between us.


    ¡°Throne¡¯s sake, Callant, there are better ways of going about this,¡± Bliss protested, shaking her head in dismay. ¡°I would not need their aid. You gave me the task and so help me I¡¯ll fulfill it, if there are no other options. Do you doubt me?¡± she asked, moving to my right and placing a hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°I do not doubt you, Bliss, but I will not underestimate our enemy. Not again, not ever,¡± I answered. ¡°So, you two, what say you?¡±


    ¡°If-if-if there are no other options? If-I mean¡­I,¡± Zha stammered. I sensed she was leaning toward yes.


    ¡°Cal, what the hell?¡± Silas answered. ¡°What the frig are you asking us?¡±


    ¡°As I said, I am asking the impossible of you, sooner than you¡¯d have liked,¡± I replied. ¡°And I should make the question more specific, and therefore even harder. I am not just asking you to kill me. I am asking you to fight to kill me, to put down those that would come to my aid and defense. Would you make of me your enemy, your target, and would you pull the trigger?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t just want them as my allies, you want them out of my way,¡± Bliss understood in a moment of clarity, backing off from me.


    ¡°Out of your way of what?¡± Silas shouted.


    ¡°I said yes!¡± Bliss yelled back. ¡°If there were no other options, if I fought tooth and nail to save him and failed, yes. I would kill him.¡±


    ¡°Save you from what?¡± Silas turned back to me, simmering and seething.


    ¡°You were always too damn cunning not to be an Inquisitor,¡± I growled.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Zha decided, making Bliss and Silas turn around to her. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m sorry. Should I be sorry? Yes, Mr. Blackgar, I will kill you if the situation demands it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I nodded to her. All eyes fell on Silas, who then crossed his arms and shook his head. That was not him declining me, though; I read well enough from him that he was still protesting the question in its essence and form.


    ¡°Inquisitor Callant Blackgar,¡± Silas started. He had not addressed me as such since Thantalus. It was like being hit by a cold shower in the depths of Firestation Ariadne. ¡°Are you asking me to kill you?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    His eyes narrowed, piercing deep into mine. He was angry, partially at me, but mostly at whatever compelled this line of questioning. I was angry too, albeit not remotely at him. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°I need to hear you say it.¡±


    ¡°Oh you son of a¡ªfine. Fine! Yes, Cal! I¡¯ll kill you as the situation demands it. Now tell me the frigging situation before I flip that desk of yours over,¡± he relented.


    My head fell forward as I let loose a deep, heartfelt sigh. ¡°Good. Thank you both. You can know, then,¡± I agreed, and lifted my head up before standing upright. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill the 8<sup>th</sup>, not as I remember doing anyway. That is a half-lie conjured up by my peers in the Inquisition and implemented by the Black Ships. The truth¡­is the daemon in my head. Its name is Cronos.¡±


    And they are not enough for me, Blackgar.

 Chapter 104 - Navigator

    I believe I had perturbed Zha. That was understandable. But following my explanation of Cronos and my tasking of her to my/its demise, she proceeded to be a bit uneasy around me. When I had first known her, many ages ago, her step was light and eager. Later, as my Interrogator and then as an Inquisitor, she carried herself firmly and with stoic rigidity. But now, in my presence, she moved with care, paying great attention to her surroundings as though looking for some detail that was amiss, perhaps tainted by daemonic influence.


    I can only assume that was my doing.


    Regardless, when I called she answered, as ever dutiful and keen to serve the Imperium. Our task, as of late, was in brainstorming how to navigate the galaxy¡ªor, more presently, our Sector¡ªin the absence of the Emperor¡¯s Light from the Astronomican, as that continued to be the state of the Empyrean from our Navigators¡¯ perspectives. It had been three weeks since the Event, and still His Light had not returned to illuminate the darkness around us. Faith began to be strained, but faith was not faithful that turned its back on divinity at the first hint of quietude. If we were truly loyal to the Throne, we would remain so, whether the Throne could see us or not.


    In any event, navigation. Zha and I knew, from Inquisitorial records, that some form of FTL travel was possible even in the cataclysm of Old Night. Alas, the records upon my ship were far sparser than the libraries found aboard the Dawnshadow. Only slight references could be discerned here or there to such times. Maps covered countless tables in a section of my vessel¡¯s canteen which had been cordoned off to give us a place to work near enough to food and drink. For days, Zha and I worked tirelessly on trying to identify a means of travel through the Warp when the Warp was more turbulent than ever it had been in our lives. Eventually, we discerned that some form of cogitator-assisted travel was theoretically possible, but it would have been far too slow; just to reach the Dawnshadow, which was my intended destination, would take a month or two traveling by that means. Given the pressing nature of the situation at hand, ¡®months¡¯ was a nonviable timeframe.


    ¡°You should get some rest, Mr. Blackgar,¡± Zha said to me eventually, the first bit of non-strategic commentary said between us in days. ¡°You¡¯re beginning to look as though you need it. I can press on without you, and will inform you if I¡¯ve found anything.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate it, Z¡ªMs. Trantos,¡± I answered, slipping up in our local vernacular for a moment, likely evidencing my own exhaustion. Zha noticed and lifted an eyebrow, even if not turning her gaze from a dataslate. ¡°But no, I must remain on the task at hand. I will not find rest while it is unresolved.¡±


    ¡°In that, we are quite alike,¡± Zha replied, managing a weak grin. ¡°You know, I once believed there was the possibility than you, too, were a savant like me; you evidence the occasional glimmer of extreme intellect.¡±


    ¡°The occasional glimmer of extreme intellect,¡± I repeated, chuckling. ¡°That almost sounds insulting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, it isn¡¯t meant¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I added at once. ¡°I know, Zha. Oh, shoot, right.¡±


    At that, Zha finally looked up from her dataslate, resting it on the table between us, and looked to me with a warm, gentle smile. I had never known her to look away from her work, not when it was not done. We were close¡ªalbeit not nearly as much so as I was with some others in my retinue, of course¡ªbut rarely had that friendship ever manifested beyond formal cordiality. ¡°Callant,¡± she started, still grinning, and my mind flicked to Bliss, who was¡ªuntil then¡ªthe only one these days who used my full first name, and ever with a grin on her face. ¡°I think you and I are old enough to embrace a bit of informality. We¡¯re also old enough to speak frankly to one another, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Then I shall. You are not a savant, Callant. Close, at times, but not. In that regard, the fractional contribution you will make to this deductive process is not particularly high. I suspect productivity on this task to drop by merely 5.3% in your absence. This isn¡¯t an insult; compared to many we know, I think they¡¯d contribute much less than 5.3% were they in your state. Go rest, Callant,¡± she insisted. I was a bit bewildered by her curtness, if only because it came from Zha herself; Varnus, Bliss, Mirena, and certainly Lucene could be and had been upfront and direct with me as they saw fit, but never Zha or, for instance, Silas. Zha always moderated herself well. But the blunt, straight honesty from her was refreshing. I could not help but to grin. ¡°What?¡± she asked in response to my smile.


    ¡°Of the myriad good and bad decisions I¡¯ve made in my time, asking you to be my Interrogator all those years ago¡ªand then to recommend you rise to an Inquisitor¡ªis very likely the best call I¡¯ll ever make for the Imperium as a whole,¡± I explained, and then released a laugh to myself. Zha did not join in the comedy, but did maintain her smile. ¡°You¡¯re right, of course. Alas, I am too damn stubborn. So no, I decline the opportunity of rest. I will remain here. However, if we are being frank with one another, might I test you with a question of my own?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± she nodded, inviting the challenge.


    ¡°What is your assessment of Galen?¡± I asked her. The smile that had crept upon her face faded away to a moment of confusion, wondering why I was asking her about him.


    But a challenge was a challenge, and Zha and I were familiar enough with one another not to bother asking ¡®why¡¯ of each other. ¡°Like many of those you¡¯ve recruited, I think he is an above-average¡ªif not outright exceptional¡ªspecimen of his ilk. Clearly very talented, as you and I can attest to firsthand, if one even questioned his abilities despite his wartime decorations. I think¡­I think you do not use him to his fullest capacity.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Callant, he¡¯s a Knight. And an impressively capable one. I think you could ask more of him,¡± she explained.


    ¡°Hmm, noted.¡±


    ¡°May I ask why you¡¯re asking about Galen?¡±


    ¡°You may ask, but I will not answer,¡± I grinned. That got a grin out of her too. ¡°Zha, I am trying to plan rather far ahead. As I¡¯m sure you know, every Inquisitor wants to solve all the universe¡¯s heresies. We can¡¯t. I must endeavor, then, to at least have solved enough to better the Imperium to a point of improvement over when I entered it. When I leave¡­,¡± I started, and locked eyes with her. Indeed, a tremble was present in them, garnered from the thought of my absence. ¡°When I leave, I will want things to be¡­manageable. Like many of you, Galen is too great an asset to be wasted in my hands alone.¡±


    ¡°Would he work with me?¡± Zha asked, immediately seeing through the murky waters of my machinations and identifying that I was trying to set them up as allies. My grin widened at her wit, as ever.


    ¡°I do not know. But I have to hope so. Hope for the future is in short supply amidst this suffocating darkness, so it must therefore be maintained wherever it is found,¡± I answered. From my response, Zha raised a hand to the dataslate she had earlier rested on the table between us, and her eyes began to dart around. I knew she had had an idea and was working through her theories, and I also knew not to interrupt that process. Instead, I continued looking on at her in awe and reverence, enjoying seeing my once-savant now-allied-Inquisitor tick. Eventually, her eyes settled upon me, then her dataslate. She then began pushing scriptures and maps around on our table, looking for something. ¡°An idea?¡± I asked her at last.


    ¡°Suffocating darkness,¡± she answered. ¡°It¡¯s not just Old Night that can create such an experience. In fact, we see it all the time from our foes.¡±


    ¡°From the archenemy?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°No, the Xenos,¡± she replied, and then at last found the map she was looking for, standing up to spread it wide across our table. I rose to join her and looked down upon the map from the other side of it. I knew its layout at once; it was an etched battlemap of our latest recorded sightings of the Xenos the Imperium defeated in the First Tyrannic War. The Xenos rarely concerned me, as I leaned heavily into the workings of the Ordo Hereticus, so I did not know their names off the top of my head, but I knew enough about them to know where we were fighting them still. ¡°These creatures project a psychic blackness all around them, right?¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Yeah, it makes reinforcing besieged worlds almost impossible,¡± I grumbled. ¡°Is that supposed to help us in some way?¡±


    ¡°I believe it can,¡± Zha nodded, eager to explain herself. ¡°The Warp is three-dimensional, even if those dimensions change in orientation and positioning randomly, and even if temporally speaking its allegiance to time is not defined. But we know that the Warp maps roughly onto the galaxy, if a bit beyond. We use the Light of the Throne to navigate through the Warp, but what if we could turn our attention to spots of emptiness instead to find our way? Surely, for Navigators that can peer into the Warp and discern its layout, they must be able to find such swaths of darkness, no?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps they can, but how would that help us?¡±


    ¡°One spot of darkness may not, especially if the Warp tossed it around their view. But multiple spots, such as those generated by Kraken and Kronos¡ªforgive the similarity in nomenclature¡ªcould be used to triangulate our position relative to them. And if Navigators knew our position relative to these enemy fleets by looking upon their shadows, they¡¯d be able to discern our position relative to the rest of the galaxy, enabling Warp travel again,¡± Zha elaborated. ¡°It would take some cogitatorial realignment and consultation with the Machine Spirits supporting our Navigators¡¯ equipment,¡± she added.


    ¡°I do not like the idea of relying upon our enemies¡¯ existences to fight our battles,¡± I grumbled, studying the map before me. Indeed, I placed the known tendrils of Kraken and Kronos some distance apart from one another, and indeed, they¡ªand other fleet incursions¡ªcould be used to triangulate a point in space and in the Warp, if they presented themselves as such. ¡°But while our enemies do exist, perhaps there is some value in using them against each other,¡± I decided, and finally looked up to Zha, who was waiting for my approval. ¡°Can you and Varnus get the equipment primed for an operation such as this?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Blackgar, I believe we can,¡± she confirmed, regressing back to heightened formality.


    ¡°Do so. Tomorrow¡ªyou need as much rest as I do, Ms. Trantos. Starting tomorrow, you have every resource in our fleet at your disposal. Get this done,¡± I ordered her.


    ¡°I shall, and thank you, Mr. Blackgar, for the offer of respite. I hope you will find it as well. But we will need the approval of our Navigators in this endeavor, and they will need to know what we are asking them to look for,¡± Zha reminded me.


    ¡°Leave them to me. I will get them to comply or break them upon my Rosette.¡±


    ***


    Saede Osman looked, despite his age and genetic background as a Navigator, surprisingly akin to a normal human. His skin coloration may have vanished, but that could have been confused with a slightly-more extreme example of Pyrran descent like my own. His Warp Eye was obscured behind a crown of cybernetics, so it, too, did nothing to suggest any abnormality about Saede¡¯s existence at a glance. Indeed, the only hint of mutation one could find was the slenderness and furriness of his hands, being more akin to those of a beast than a man.


    This was, of course, if one did not hold a conversation with Saede, in which circumstance one might discern his forked tongue and fanged teeth, not unlike a viper. ¡°Absolutely not, Inquisitor. What you suggest is preposterous.¡±


    ¡°What I suggest is what is required of you,¡± I insisted, and then glanced behind me to Zha, who nodded. Zha stood as part of a quartet of herself, Varnus, Lucene, and Captain Vakian. ¡°If I believed there were an alternative¡ª¡±


    ¡°There is an alternative. It is waiting,¡± Saede suggested.


    ¡°Waiting?¡±


    ¡°Waiting. Or do you not believe in the Emperor¡¯s ability to shine through this accursed darkness?¡± he asked, testing me even further.


    Saede¡¯s head cocked to the side as I glowered at him with my one functioning eye. We had, until then, been keeping some distance between us. I closed that distance considerably in my reply. ¡°Once, Osman, I will warn you not to question the depths of my beliefs. The crowd of those that have done so hence count themselves amongst the ranks of the dead. You do not wish to join them.¡±


    ¡°Nor do I wish to look upon the blackness you have asked of me,¡± Saede returned, shifting in a moment of discomfort within the throne-like seating through which he manifested his abilities and directed starships through the bowels of hell. It was to this device that the cybernetics upon his crown were connected.


    ¡°And why is that?¡±


    ¡°Have you ever faced these Xenos, Inquisitor?¡± he asked me.


    ¡°I have not,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Have you ever looked upon their presence in the Warp?¡± I shook my head again. ¡°Well I have.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, then you know how,¡± I interjected. Saede¡¯s two, unmutated eyes narrowed into a squint of tested patience.


    ¡°It is a darkness, this thing these Xenos emit, that hungers. To look upon it is to suffer a gnawing upon one¡¯s mind and soul. It is something that cannot be endured for long,¡± Saede explained.


    ¡°Or what?¡±


    ¡°Or what, what?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°What will happen if you must endure this gnawing for long?¡±


    ¡°I mustn¡¯t,¡± Saede deflected, which was itself an immediate obstruction of Inquisitorial operations, but I moved past it as the task at hand was more pressing than any politicking.


    ¡°Humor me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I will, Inquisitor. As I said, what you ask is preposterous. At best. At worst, it is heretical. I will not comply with requests on this matter, and if you wish to remain in good standing with my House, you will not press this issue further,¡± he denied me. I took one long, deep breath in, closing my eye, and hissed my breath out as I closed the gap between us in full. Then standing up to him directly, I opened my gaze into as clear a glare as I could manage. ¡°You do not intimidate me, Inquisitor. The Nobilite¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªIs not the Inquisition. You are a resource. Your House is a resource. And we are at war; any resources the Inquisition deems it requires to wage that war will be surrendered to us. You will comply not merely with my questions, but you will consent to my demands, or I will end you where you sit and find someone who will do as I ask. If you believe in the Divine Might of the Emperor, then you believe in my ability to be a more terrifying enemy to have than any Xenos that might befoul your gaze. Test my patience further, Osman, and when I have finished forcing you into submission, I will walk you to your House and they will beg me to remove your head on their doorstep rather than punish them for your transgressions. What will happen if you look upon the Xenos¡¯s shadow for too long?¡±


    Saede stared at me for a moment, then, though the absence of his reply made that moment feel like an eternity. I had at last struck fear into his eyes. But, as evidenced from his immediate response, evidently not enough. ¡°The Nobilite will hear of these threats, Inquisitor,¡± he warned me, trying to maintain his cool in cover of a slight quiver that had entered his voice.


    One more deep breath, though this time my glare did not falter from his gaze. In the next instant, he found his head clutched between hands bionic and human, and at once released his own psykana. But he did not direct it against me, uncertainty clouding his focus. To disagree with and deny an Inquisitor was one thing. To attack an Inquisitor, particularly one that had not been sanctioned by his peers, was another. So he did not attack me, but did make his psykana known to me, pressing against my mind with it and enveloping me in the hostile embrace of his own. Frost began to creep upon the walls, not unlike as it had within Firestation Ariadne. ¡°And how will they know, Saede Osman, if we are unable to tell them, as we are now?¡± I growled, then squeezed at his head slightly more tightly. ¡°Begin to answer my questions, Osman, or your skull will accompany your heart inside your chest. What are the risks, to yourself and beyond, of looking upon the Xenos?¡±


    Oh, he was fearful of me then. Not because I had threatened him so, not because of my grasp on his head, not because I was an Inquisitor. But because he had been trying to get inside my head, and had never so much as scratched the surface of my mind. His psykana, tailored and specialized for moving voidships about, paled in comparison to mine, and mine had been trained for the express purpose of destroying my enemies and upholding the rule of the Inquisition. Yes, he could enshroud me with the will of his mind, but he could do only that. He did not possess the means to harm me, not physically nor mentally. But I possessed every opportunity and means to eviscerate him, and it was mercy alone that I had not done so yet.


    ¡°There¡­there could be mental deterioration, resulting in loss of faculty operation,¡± Saede answered at last. ¡°I would not rule out the possibility that they might be able to gaze back, and if they did, I could not say what that might imply.¡±


    ¡°In battle, we risk limb and life. And life is the only currency that matters in the Emperor¡¯s Court. You will look upon this darkness, at risk to yourself, that you might serve the Throne in this time of need. You will do this, not because I ask you to or threaten your well-being should you disobey; but you will do this because you must do this, for the survival and sanctity of our God-Emperor, Holy be His name,¡± I demanded of him, and then at last released him from my grasp. I stepped away as well, being met with the invisible force of his psykana as I did so, but it dissipated as we backed off from one another.


    Saede continued to glare at me, but his breath had strained. While he recovered in his throne, he said little outright, but his eyes said plenty. They spoke of submission and compliance, but also that any threat he had made my way¡ªof burning my relationship with the Navis Nobilite, for instance¡ªwas still in play, if we survived this endeavor. I nodded to him, willing to trade that relationship for a journey home to the Dawnshadow. ¡°Fine,¡± he hissed at last. ¡°Fine, Inquisitor Blackgar, fine. Your Agents may adjust my devices as needed to this task. But there will be a reckoning for this.¡±


    ¡°There will be a reckoning,¡± I agreed, turning from him as Varnus and Zha began to move in to configure the cogitators and apparatus of his throne. I, meanwhile, joined Lucene by her side and gave Captain Vakian my approval to disseminate this resolution to the rest of my fleet. ¡°Of that, I have little doubt. But it will not be for this.¡±

 Chapter 105 - Calm

    Unlike my record of losses in dueling Lucene in single combat, I was at least able to keep pace with her in Regicide, though I was quite certain I was losing our third and final game of the night. In terms of piece equality, we were nearly even, but positionally I had sacrificed much and gained little. I did not have high hopes for this game. We had played Regicide often through the years, the game gaining an uptick in competitive play as we grew older and less inclined to combat one another.


    A shudder rocked through our vessel as I reflected on the state of our game. It was far from the first, and likely far from the last; the Navigators were apparently quite stressed by the implementation of Zha¡¯s plan. Much as Saede Osman may have tested and antagonized me, that was not my intent and I took no pleasure from it. I prayed that he, and his ilk, could steer us through this shadowy night. Regardless, this latest shudder knocked my Emperor and Empress from our board and onto the floor by my feet. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s just as well,¡± I muttered, a warm grin spreading over my face as I leaned down to pick the pieces up. ¡°Seemed they were bound to fall soon anyway.¡±


    ¡°I think you may have still had some outs, but yes, the board looked dire on your end,¡± Lucene asserted, agreeing with my assessment of our play. ¡°You¡¯re calling it, then?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I nodded, setting my fallen pieces aside. Lucene offered a hand across our board, which I took and shook with pleasure. ¡°Well executed.¡±


    ¡°And well fought to you as well, Cal,¡± she smiled. ¡°Being your opponent is never easy.¡±


    ¡°You certainly made it seem so,¡± I laughed.


    ¡°Looks can be deceiving,¡± she said with a shrug. She then looked whimsically to one of the small port windows of our room. There was nothing to see; physical shields covered viewports during Warp Translation. Still, Lucene¡¯s gaze hung for moments more while I began to pack up our game of Regicide, swiping pieces from both sides of the board.


    When I had cleared the board entirely, I noted, ¡°It¡¯s usually you who asks me what I¡¯m thinking about. What¡¯s on your mind, Luce?¡± She smiled at the observation of the inverted situation, nodded, and turned her gaze back to me.


    ¡°Ouranos,¡± she said, simply. I nodded. He was on my mind a lot lately too. ¡°You had once asked me, in the calm before the storm of Mortoc¡¯s siege of the Dawnshadow, whether I would be much bothered by my death. I had said, then, that I would not be, and that I was unconcerned with facing another heretic. That may have been the truth then.¡±


    ¡°But it isn¡¯t now,¡± I inferred.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t cowardice, I am inclined to note,¡± Lucene insisted. ¡°I do not fear Ouranos or my death, be either looming. But¡­I would miss this. My time with you. I would miss you.¡±


    ¡°Likewise,¡± I agreed. Her expression, once pensive, grew a warmer smile. ¡°To all things there is an end, my love. Mine has ever been denied to me, but perhaps it is not so far now. There are moments when I look forward to it, not for need of selfish release, but that I may complete my duty at last. And then there are moments like this for which I would prefer to continue fighting the fight I always have. I do not know which is better for the Imperium, or might best serve the Emperor¡ªthough I imagine He has His plans for us set in auramite already. But I do know that for those around me, with whom I have fostered such long and lasting relationships, life is more preferrable. Which makes death all the more tragic. Lucene, I cannot know the extent that this weighs on your mind, but I do hope it will not prevent you from steeling yourself from doubt when the time comes to face Ouranos. If we are to give him his end, we will need to be better than ever we have been thus. And I know you know this.¡±


    For my entire speech, Lucene had continued to look on at me with caring warmth, but she allowed herself a laugh at the end of it. She composed herself from her laugh quickly, reaffirming the commanding, unshakeable posture becoming of a Sister Superior. ¡°There must be a plan of His for us indeed, Cal, as how else could our paths of crossed? Luck? I would not attribute such profound happiness to it. And if Ouranos is half as dangerous as we make him out to be, he would not have been so foolish as to tug on the strings that pulled us together. Yes, dear, I know all of that, but to hear such an affirmation from you is, in a word, delightful. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°And thank you for kicking my ass in Regicide,¡± I replied with a laugh of my own, which Lucene again allowed herself to return. When she settled, she looked upon me warmly, holding her gaze not to my own, but to myself as a whole. After a few moments, I asked, ¡°Am I that good looking?¡±


    ¡°Yes, actually,¡± Lucene answered, managing another chuckle. ¡°Apologies.¡±


    ¡°No need. More on your mind?¡±


    ¡°You.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m happy to be there in Ouranos¡¯s stead,¡± I suggested, earning a further chuckle yet. ¡°What about me?¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Lucene stared on at me for a moment longer, still smiling, and then asked, ¡°What do you want, Cal? What do you truly desire?¡±


    ¡°Uh, right now, tonight, in bed?¡± I asked, and she blurted another laugh. ¡°Or more broadly?¡±


    ¡°I was meaning to ask what you wanted out of life, but certainly if you have some wishes for how we spend our evening together, please, voice them,¡± she answered, then cleared her throat. ¡°Take away the title of Inquisitor and the role of Commissar. What does Callant Blackgar want from his life as a man among many in the Blessed Imperium?¡±


    ¡°You.¡±


    ¡°Cal,¡± she chided, still smiling, but now shaking her head dismissively.


    ¡°Expecting some greater philosophy?¡± I suggested. She began a shrug, but I knew the answer was ¡®yes,¡¯ and interrupted her gesture with a further response. ¡°I will think about your question a moment, but I would like to ask the same question of you, and in the interim,¡± I began, but finished my thought by standing to my feet and circling around our table to her side of it, where I extended my augmetic hand to her. She took it, and I helped her to her feet before leading us both to bed¡ªas she had hinted earlier.


    I sat upon the edge of our bedding, and rubbed the area next to me for her to sit upon as well, though after nearly two centuries of being her husband, expected of her exactly what she did: she sat sideways on my lap, towering over me. She was not as heavy as Bliss, whom I had once spent a few evenings with, but she was still my larger, and by no negligible measure. Nevertheless, despite the great and mighty Sister of Battle perched upon me, I wrapped my arms around her waist and leaned forward against her.


    ¡°Mmm, I confess that yes, I do want this,¡± Lucene admitted, throwing an arm over my shoulders and pulling me against her bosom. As ever, she was profoundly comfortably warm, her embrace invigorating. ¡°How simple it is, to want what one has,¡± she noted, then leaned over me to kiss the crown of my head before she sat upright again. ¡°In asking you to look beyond your Inquisition, I suppose I must look deeper in myself than the teachings of the Ecclesiarchy, hm? And in that, save for you, I have not given much thought to. I suppose¡­what I want, truly, is to leave the Imperium better than I first found it. Which, in equal measure, is almost heretical¡ªthis implication that the Imperium can be better than it is. But that is what I want. Is that na?vely optimistic?


    ¡°Perhaps¡­hm, what greatness our species could attain if it was not beleaguered by its own susceptibility to Chaos. Perhaps that is my pursuit. And, through you, I think I have chased after it all these years; you are not so weak as to succumb to temptation beyond bodily vices such as my own,¡± she offered, her grin widening into an open, encouraging smile. ¡°Yet you are also not so blunt an instrument, as some of your peers have been, as to be ruthlessly destructive to the undeserving of such wrath. You have a unique charm, Cal, to wield mercy and kindness to those in need of it without sacrificing from your contempt of the enemy. I should like to have embodied such traits through my life. I think I want to be more like you. I wonder if that is why we have fallen for one another.¡±


    ¡°I do not find myself much enthralled by myself,¡± I told her.


    Lucene laughed again, but also seemed somewhat hurt, revealing, ¡°That is an unfortunate condemnation of my aspirations.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. And you, Cal, have you figured out what you want? Or have I distracted you too much?¡± she asked, pressing her chest against the side of my face a bit more at the mention of distraction.


    ¡°I won¡¯t say you haven¡¯t done so at all,¡± I admitted, and then retreated from her. I laid upon my back, though not in the most comfortable manner. My legs remained beyond my sheets, with Lucene pinning my lower waist to the edge of our bed. Even so, I was far from uncomfortable, and indeed, I found the peace of mind to close my eyes and reflect upon myself and my life. In so doing, I also considered that I did not know much of Lucene¡¯s origins. I had never asked, and she had never volunteered such info of her own willingness. I had never been inclined to pry. But I, I realized, was a being of and for war.


    I had known little else in my upbringing beyond the nature of war. On Pyrras-3, one wars for survival, not from the enemies of man, but within the world¡¯s environment. Admist the volcanic eruptions and desolate skies of soot, which devastates vegetation and fauna unfortunate enough to find itself upon the world¡¯s surface, save for the planet¡¯s few spaceports¡ªthat is the war I was born into. And with skin of ash and blood of lava, I was as Pyrras made me, as was needed of me. So when youth had ended, I sought out wars greater than the explosive battery of mountains. Worlds and stars aflame, and the blackness between them soaked in blood and sprinkled with las-scorched adamantium, such was my war eternal. As much as I may play in love with Lucene or any other, war was the only place in which I ever found my way to comfort.


    How simple it is to want what one has, Lucene had said, and in that, I must agree.


    And yet, in love, I had found a different kind of war. The war of emotions, of personalities. I confess, I think being a psyker may make me more vulnerable to love, as the Warp does predate upon intense emotional exertion. But regardless of whether that is true, I had found for myself the same sort of joy in love as I felt in war. There was, among those I had come to adore, a friendly competitiveness in almost all things between us, and through that I found a calling of nonviolent conflict to enjoy.


    As I contemplated all of this, Lucene lifted herself from my lap to instead lay down next to me, no longer pinning me to the bedding beneath us. By the time I finally had an answer for her, she had settled in on my left, holding herself on her side by an angled arm, while her other arm gently caressed my chest. ¡°I think, more than anything, what I want out of life is to perform my duties shoulder-to-shoulder with those I care about,¡± I answered her at last, opening my eyes to look into hers. ¡°So indeed, you can imagine how lovely the last centuries have been,¡± I affirmed for her. She smiled, leaned over me, and pecked my lips once before wrapping around me in a hug, which I shared via my augmetic. ¡°I do not wish to see an end to romanticism such as ours,¡± I began. ¡°But I also do not wish it to usurp my duties to the Throne. I instead would like to find a way to join the two as seamlessly as possible.¡±


    ¡°Well I think we¡¯ve done a good enough job of that, you and I. Don¡¯t you think?¡± Lucene asked before leaning over me for another kiss.

 Chapter 106 - Reinforcement

    Coldbreed was not happy with the final leg of its journey, and I can only assume the other vessels of my fleet felt much the same. To say our voidships rattled through the Empyrean until now was an understatement, but nearing the end of our voyage, they began to buckle and all but bend under the tumult of the Warp and the stress of Zha¡¯s unique logistical solution for Translation. Our exit from the Warp into the supposed safety of the void was rocky enough to demand most of the bridge be holding on to something, with five exceptions: Captain Vakian was well situated in his command arrangement; Bliss appeared to be dexterous enough to maintain her composure naturally; Varnus had magnetized himself to my deck; and Lucene and I were too weighed down by our power armor to be tossed about even still. But everyone else, including my full retinue, who I had asked join me on the bridge for our reintroduction to the Dawnshadow, was gripping onto this or that odd protrusion for stability during the tail end of our bumpy ride.


    ¡°We enjoy a skirting the bounds of irony, don¡¯t we?¡± I muttered to Bliss, who was standing to my side opposite Lucene, her arms crossed in uncaring nonchalance.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no, but I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re referring to,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°After Absalom, you noted the irony in our possibly being eliminated after everything we had survived,¡± I explained, then gestured widely to the state of Coldbreed¡¯s bridge. ¡°Now, after such catastrophes we¡¯ve endured and heretics we¡¯ve slain, what if our undoing is by our own hand, and by something as inglorious as a hull rupture?¡±


    ¡°Then that would be ironic indeed, yes,¡± Bliss agreed, a creeping grin appreciating the potential irony.


    You will not perish here, Cronos assured me via a nagging in the back of my head. How could the daemon have known my fate, anyway? Better to the point, it emphasized the locality or temporal nature of my end, suggesting it knew when or where that would happen. I do. Do you wish to know? I did not, but I will admit to some semblance of comfort from my terrible foe¡¯s surety that we would not succumb to a hull breach. You¡¯re welcome.


    ¡°Everything will be OK, Cal, as the Emperor wills it,¡± Lucene assured me, which put me to ease far better than anything a daemon could have ever said.


    ¡°Warp Translation in fifteen seconds,¡± beamed the voice of Captain Vakian. Though he was on the bridge near to many of us, we¡ªor I, at least¡ªheard him most prominently through the ship¡¯s vox systems, which were substantially louder than either the rumbling of our hull or Vakian¡¯s spoken word.


    ¡°Ave Imperator,¡± I muttered, and stepped forward, nearer to the bridge¡¯s frontal viewport, though it was currently covered by protective shielding for Warp travel. The seconds rolled by, each one accompanied by a rumbling as though some furious beast had gripped onto the hull of our vessel and was shaking it for signs of life. Given the nature of the Empyrean, that may have actually been the case.


    Eventually, after what felt like interminably longer than fifteen seconds, the shaking diminished substantially, being reduced to the familiar low rumble of Warp Translation. Shortly thereafter, the shaking vanished entirely, and the shielding of the frontal viewport began to lift, letting a deep blue light crawl into the bridge. A great pressure lifted from my chest, and seemed also to have been lifted from many of my allies, as I heard sighs of relief beyond my own. As the viewport opened up in full, however, that relief turned to confusion for many, even among my veteran compatriots, but not for me. I understood, in horror, what was before me, and acted at once: ¡°Vakian! Scramble all fighters! Divert power from lance batteries unto our port and starboard shields!¡±


    The Dawnshadow, laying before our view amidst smoke and blue warpfire, was under attack once more, more heavily berated on its own without fleet support. Its assailants surrounded us, only in the sense that our Warp Translation had placed us in the middle of the enemy fleet. I knew the fell insignia of our foes at once, as well: The Thousand Sons Traitor Legion, or some Warband thereof, and even if not for their iconography, their choice of armament and disposition for warpflame would have sufficed for a hint toward their identity as well.


    While Vakian relayed my orders, Mirena stepped nearer to me, though she was still across the bridge. ¡°Does that include me?¡± she asked.


    ¡°If you want it to,¡± I answered, and turned back to the scene ahead. Mirena decided to leave the bridge and join our fighter squadrons. Castecael also departed, likely recognizing that our medicae bays would soon fill with wounded. ¡°Can we establish communication with the Dawnshadow?¡±


    ¡°Wideband vox systems are still recovering from Warp Translation, Inquisitor, but it should not take long,¡± Vakian reported. ¡°I will patch you in as soon as we are able.¡± I nodded in silent assent. In the meantime, the shaking returned, though this time it was of our making as our starboard and port cannons engaged the enemy nearby. Our positioning was far from ideal; not only were our allies, in the Dawnshadow, currently resting before our Nova Cannons, but our fleet was directly in the middle of the enemy fleet, intertwined with their ships, where we would customarily have served the role of long-range support. But all was not lost; the battle had clearly been going for some time, as not only was the Dawnshadow enflamed and damaged, but our foes had also been comparatively battered. We were arriving for the tail end of a protracted engagement.


    ¡°The situation is winnable,¡± came the voice of Zha Trantos, startling me from behind. It was unlike her to sneak up on me. Perhaps she was taking lessons from Bliss. ¡°Our foes were not anticipating reinforcements, which suggests a cognizance of the logistical darkness that otherwise would have inhibited our arrival,¡± she deduced.


    I nodded in agreement, for once having beaten her to that conclusion. ¡°And I am none too happy about their involvement thereof, though yes, I agree that this scene is salvageable.¡± Words spoken moments before the shuddering of our shields being battered from enemy fire. Irony.


    ¡°Dawnshadow to reinforcing fleet, come in,¡± a familiar voice called over our bridge¡¯s vox. I glanced to Vakian and nodded a ¡®thank you¡¯ to him. He gave me a thumbs¡¯ up, too busy with administering other tasks to reply with much else.


    ¡°Coldbreed to Dawnshadow, we receive you. Been a few years, Lord Inquisitor,¡± I greeted Lycia, who I had not seen or heard from since our war with the Shatter Corps and Valeran Mortoc.


    ¡°Likewise, Inquisitor Blackgar. You know how to make a timely entrance,¡± she answered.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had some practice. What¡¯s your status? Who are these bastards, and what are the priority targets?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°First things first, I am sending a list of targets to your cogitator systems. Please disseminate the information as needed,¡± she said, to which I snapped a finger toward Varnus and pointed him to join Vakian at the command terminals. He obliged. ¡°As to our status, we are surviving, for the time being. I imagine it looks bad from your perspective. But they haven¡¯t sent any damnable boarding torpedoes our way this time, which is a blessing.¡±


    ¡°How very kind of them,¡± I grunted.


    ¡°As to who they are, we¡¯ve identified them as the Thousand Sons Warband known as the Emissaries of the Cataclysm. Name mean anything to you?¡± Lycia asked.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Not in the slightest. Should I know them?¡±


    ¡°It would have been nice if you did, as this is otherwise an unprovoked and unforeseen attack. Came out of nowhere about twenty hours ago. Speaking of which, how are you here, Blackgar? It seems the darkness does not trouble our enemies, but it has stranded us where we are and limited astropathic communication,¡± she noted.


    ¡°A conversation for after the battle, which would be a pleasure to have in person, should we both live to see such a time,¡± I replied, caging up on the subject. Zha¡¯s strategy, while unquestionably advantageous and beneficial to us as much as to the Dawnshadow, could still be seen as heretical to some, and I was not the most familiar with Lycia¡¯s philosophical outlook on adaptivity. ¡°Until then, please allow me to direct my fleet as needed. If you require any specific assistance, please don¡¯t hesitate to ask for it. And keep us appraised of new priority targets. We are here to assist in any way we can.¡±


    Lycia said her thanks before breaking off communication for the time being. We both had fleets to manage. By this time, finally, my fleet¡¯s fighters and bombers were beginning to launch from our bays to tear apart the enemy more incisively. This, it seemed, was the final straw for the Thousand Sons. With their own fighters and bombers too close to the Dawnshadow to respond to my fleet¡¯s, their mainline vessels were all but defenseless against my forces. It was not long since my arrival that enemy frigates and their singular Battle Barge began to pull away from the scene, recalling what fighters they could retrieve. A retreat had been forced, though I already knew, from having sparred with the Iron Warriors, that a second attack was inevitable. I also knew better than to chase after their retreat, as the late Lord Kanin had in futility.


    Where our entrance had appeared as a tunnel into the Warp, the exit of the Thousand Sons pulled them into a vast and terrible flaming blue eye, their vessels falling into its iris. I had never seen such a thing, and may have stared in wonder were it not for Inquisitorial training. I likewise commanded Vakian to raise the shielding used in Warp Translation, as such an eye was not for loyal men and women of the Imperium to gaze upon for long. The darkness of the Event, it seemed, had empowered our foes too greatly; never before could they conjure such an evil on a whim. Our capital vessels took aim upon the eye and the enemy ships that fled within, but if we damaged either, such an impact could not be discerned. The terrible eye burnt itself out from reality as swiftly as it had appeared out of the ether, leaving only us confused and embattled mortals in its wake.


    ***


    I had never been to Lord Inquisitor Lycia¡¯s office before. Imagine my surprise, then, when the route to it was the same as that which lead to Lord van der Skar¡¯s office. Upon gaining entry to speak with the still-surviving Lord Inquisitor, and after we said our greetings, she addressed my confusion: ¡°Before he passed, Halloid appointed me to his post in operating the Dawnshadow. He also gave me a few other assets of his, including you,¡± she explained.


    ¡°He gave me to you? What does that mean? Am I to report to you henceforth?¡± I asked, moving to stand behind a chair she had intended for me to sit in. She, meanwhile, moved around the desk of my former master and took her own seat at it.


    ¡°In theory, yes, but he had more specific instructions for our relationship,¡± Lycia admitted, shaking her head. ¡°He wants you to employ Special Condition, and for me to stay well out of your way. I do not know what it is you¡¯ve wrapped yourself¡ªand him¡ªup in, but Halloid made it very clear that my involvement would jeopardize the Sector. In that regard, I do not wish to impede upon your operations in the slightest. When you feel you are ready to return from Special Condition, I will be here, on the Dawnshadow, as he always was. Then, and only then, yes, you may report to me.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡­,¡± I began, and then reached a pause in my train of thought. ¡°That does make things simpler.¡±


    ¡°Good. I won¡¯t ask about your operations, but I again must ask how you¡¯ve found your way back to me, where no others could,¡± Lycia insisted. I hesitated once more, and Lycia proved a quick study in reading my discomfort. ¡°It wasn¡¯t the most¡­puritan strategy, was it?¡±


    ¡°It was not,¡± I admitted, sighing, and finally took a seat before her.


    She cleared her throat, then leaned forward, folding her hands together, dark brown eyes . ¡°Blackgar, as I mentioned, Halloid was adamant that I not interrupt your operation. If you¡¯re worried about your own life, in confessing to me the means through which you arrived here, don¡¯t be. I can¡¯t touch you, by his orders. And you¡¯d be surprised how¡­persuasive¡­Halloid van der Skar can be postmortem.¡±


    ¡°I served under the man for two centuries; I knew him well enough to know he would not let death keep him from his duties to the Throne,¡± I chuckled. ¡°But thank you. Does your insistence come from curiosity, then?¡±


    ¡°In part. But also tactical need. Do you know what has caused this great and crushing darkness, Blackgar?¡± she asked, sitting back in her chair with a hint of dismay spreading across her brow. For her part, in many ways she still seemed quite young¡ªno doubt thanks to the rejuvenat¡ªbut it was slowly becoming clear to me that the stress of managing a starfort like the Dawnshadow, coupled with the responsibilities of a Lord Inquisitor, was beginning to take its toll on her. One wonders how van der Skar had survived at it as long as he had.


    ¡°I do not.¡±


    Lycia made a musing sound, then rose from her desk and turned her back to me, looking out of a thin slit of a viewport unto the void beyond. She said nothing for a few moments more, perhaps looking for the right words. Then, with frank simplicity, revealed, ¡°Cadia has fallen.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, scoffing. The words were absurd to me.


    ¡°Cadia is no more. The Despoiler found victory in his accursed Crusade. The very world itself was destroyed, utterly,¡± Lycia explained. For some fraction of time, I thought Lycia¡¯s recounting of events was a cruel joke of sorts, but that disbelief passed in the trust of my comrade, and the horror of what she was saying sunk in. ¡°The Eye of Terror, then unopposed by the Throne¡¯s most capable servants, has spread across the galaxy, slicing our beautiful Imperium in half with its twisted maw. I know not of everything, but I know these pieces of the ordeal. Astropathic communication was cut off entirely immediately following Cadia¡¯s loss, but we are slowly regaining such functionality, and other Conclaves are reporting in with what they know. This great and terrible Night is the cruel jest of our archenemy, empowering its treasonous forces and stranding many of us on our own. But not you,¡± she explained, and turned back to me at last.


    ¡°So I ask, Inquisitor Callant Blackgar, how is it that you have found your way here, where no other voidship in all the known Imperium has been able to travel so? If you sit on some hint of usable stratagem, it could turn the tide against the enemy when we need it most. Folly to those who would sit back and succumb to the vanities of purity!¡± Lycia shouted, slamming a fist on her desk. ¡°I do not think myself a Radical, nor you likewise, rather I believe we both understand the need for adaptation in times of crises, and this is most certainly a time of such needs. Have I convinced you yet?¡±


    I nodded, face tight with frustration and fury. Fury, that the Despoiler had won and wounded us all so. Frustration that I had not been there to kill the bastard myself. I then looked back up to Lycia. ¡°My stratagem utilized the existence of one foe, the Xenos, against the whims of the archenemy,¡± I began, and outlined the process Zha had constructed to Lycia. I did not implicate Zha in my explanation. Would that the Lord Inquisitor before me deem me a heretic for it, I¡¯d have preferred to insulate my prodigious apprentice from Lycia¡¯s wrath. But no such wrath came, at least not immediately. Instead, Lycia simply sat at her desk again, resting before me, and seemed to understand my reluctance to use this means of travel in the first place, much as I was reluctant to share the information.


    ¡°That is¡­clever. And dangerous, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all too aware,¡± she suggested, and I nodded eagerly. ¡°Forgive my earlier zealotry, Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°Zealotry in service to the Throne need not be forgiven.¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose not,¡± she agreed, managing a grin. ¡°Alas, I do not imagine your described means of travel can be used widely through the Imperium, even by the Inquisition. Ignoring the damage to our relationship with the Navigators¡¯ Houses¡ªwhich I will try to smooth over for you, to insulate you from their petulant vindictiveness¡ªit risks revealing our movements to the enemy,¡± she explained, referring to the Xenos, and I nodded in agreement. ¡°Well, with that out of the way, you¡¯ve done the Dawnshadow a great service in coming to its aid¡ªif not outright saving it¡ªthree times now. Is there any aid I can offer you in turn before you embark on Special Condition?¡±


    ¡°Actually, there is, thank you for asking. I do not know how familiar you are with my prior involvements, but I would like to requisition four hundred units of Resource Absalom-7644. And if you happen to have a capable psyker and null aboard the Dawnshadow, I would like to request their temporary services. Shouldn¡¯t need more than a few hours with them,¡± I explained.


    ¡°I have no idea what that resource is, but if I can find it, I can get it to you. As to the psyker and blank, I will do what I can and keep you posted. If there is nothing else,¡± she said, and rose from her desk once more, offering a hand over it. I took and shook it. ¡°Good luck, Inquisitor, with whatever it is you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°Same to you, Lord Inquisitor,¡± I agreed, grinning. ¡°Thank you.¡±

 Chapter 107 - Deception

    ¡°I still don¡¯t really understand why I¡¯m here, Callant,¡± Bliss insisted as I led us both into the chosen room at the chosen time. By design, I cannot be too specific; suffice to say it was a sanctified ground, warded and secured by ample prayer. Within, we met the psyker and the psychic blank¡ªagain, I cannot pen their names to parchment such as this. Their names¡ªand therefore, their lives¡ªwere not mine to throw away.


    I took a seat in a chair of grand arrangement, red satin tightly strewn within a stygian frame. Many cables connected to my seating, and while there were interface ports upon the backside of the vessel, I did not risk plugging them into the sockets upon the base of my skull, where my MIU was frequently situated for my power armor. ¡°You are here, Bliss, because there are few I trust so deeply with such a skillset and fortitude as you possess,¡± I answered her, getting comfortable in a seat impossible to find comfort within. ¡°That, and it will be nice to see a friendly face when this is over. Do you two understand your tasks?¡± I asked of the psyker and blank.


    ¡°I do, Inquisitor,¡± they said in near-seamless unison.


    ¡°Good. Bliss, be ready,¡± I cautioned her.


    ¡°For what?¡± she asked, rolling her eyes, still not knowing her purpose in this grand deception I had crafted.


    ¡°Anything. I cannot know how it will react,¡± I answered, and tapped a finger to the right temple of my head. ¡°Begin, [blank],¡± I instructed. Without hesitation, the blank switched off their null limiter, allowing their negative presence to permeate through the room. It hit me like a sobering wave of ice cold water, filling me with discomfort head to toe. The other psyker in the room seemed to experience the same unease, moving away from the blank as far as they could. Bliss seemed not to mind, or if she did, she did not evidence any discomfort. I suspected the latter, that she was too well-conditioned to let most things change her temperament or focus. But the hit of distress would have been lesser for her anyway, as she was not a psyker. ¡°Do not stray far,¡± I insisted of the other psyker, who nodded back to me.


    Shortly thereafter, the blank put their hands atop my head from behind, and I tensed up in lurching agony, as though my guts themselves were being rearranged from within. ¡°Callant!¡± Bliss gasped, moving toward me at once, but I held a hand up to her to keep her from interfering. I wanted to speak, to command her more directly, but each breath was nigh-impossible; it felt as though my airways were clenching closed, and they may very well have been from panic. I had asked Lycia for her best blank, and she had certainly delivered. One could only pray it would be enough to keep a daemon of Cronos¡¯s caliber at bay.


    It seemed, thankfully, this blank was capable of that for the time being. Cronos did not rear its ugly head to us, it did not overpower the blank¡¯s negative presence with its own Warp-positive existence. In its absence, I focus all my willpower on sustaining myself in such overwhelming proximity to the blank, and finally found the strength with which to just barely speak. ¡°P-parchment!¡± I stuttered out, reaching for Bliss. She produced a parchment, quill, and a vial of ink, setting the latter upon the right armrest of my chair while handing me the others. My hands shook profusely, which was not terribly conducive to scripture, but the job had to get done while it could get done. I began writing, committing a mess of barely-legible scratches to the papyrus in my shaking grasp.


    My designs took me six minutes to inscribe, and each second felt as unto an eternity. Bliss and the blank waited patiently. The same cannot be said of the psyker, who even across the room from the blank had his virtuous patience tested to its limits. When I had done, I gasped a heated, pained breath over the ink, and when it had dried, folded the parchment up. ¡°Enough,¡± I droned, weary. At last, the blank¡¯s hands lifted from my skull, though they kept their null limiter disabled until I gave the word. ¡°Come here, Bliss,¡± I said, and was all but tackled into a hug beneath my fretful ally. ¡°So¡­heavy,¡± I wheezed.


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    ¡°Shut up, you,¡± she growled, then lifted her face before mine. ¡°What in Terra¡¯s name is going on?¡±


    ¡°I am¡­planning ahead,¡± I gasped, still gathering my breath from the negative-drain as much as from Bliss¡¯s hug. ¡°Take this. Keep it safe,¡± I insisted, pushing the folded parchment her way. ¡°Do not look at it. Give it to Varnus when you are certain I am not near. He, in turn, will give it to Zha¡­when certain conditions are met.¡±


    ¡°Conditions?¡± she asked. I shook my head, unwilling to elaborate. ¡°You¡¯re making plans against Cronos,¡± she asserted, lifting herself off me a bit, but remaining in my chair itself so as to coddle me in her arms yet.


    ¡°And Ouranos, yes. While I have access to the resources offered by an Inquisitorial Starfort, anyway,¡± I confirmed. Bliss looked on at me for a moment more, and then flattened my lips beneath hers, swiftly undoing any progress I was making in regaining my breath. The kiss was short-lived, but it was forceful and passionate, and spoke volumes. She understood that I was planning for the end. She hated it. I cannot say I was of a mind to disagree with that hatred. When her lips did lift from mine, I had the strength remaining to mutter merely, ¡°Pity.¡±


    ¡°Pity?¡± she asked, frowning.


    ¡°I¡¯m not to remember this ordeal. That would have been worth remembering,¡± I explained, and then gestured for the psyker to come and join us. With some reluctance, he obliged, nearing the blank who still emanated their rampant negativity. ¡°Another reason I¡¯ve brought you along. We will need to fill the gap in time here, you and I, to fool Cronos. Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°Care to go for drinks afterward, then?¡± she suggested, smiling coyly.


    ¡°That sounds lovely, Bliss,¡± I nodded as the psyker¡¯s hands fell upon my head, replacing the grasp that the blank had possessed. ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°I am eager, Inquisitor,¡± the psyker answered, glancing the way of the blank.


    ¡°Swap, you two, and get to work,¡± I commanded, and the blank at last engaged their null limiter once more. Finally, the intense, gut-wrenching pressure of their presence subsided, but it was immediately replaced with the invasion of my mind at the psyker¡¯s hands. I focused on anything but the last few minutes¡ªin truth, Bliss, in all her alluring glory, proved a fantastic distraction for my thoughts. For the first time, I stared at Bliss¡¯s chest, and she was as joyful for it as one might expect, tactical though my gaze may have been. Cronos knew I was hiding something from it. It knew there was something I did not wish for it to see. But it did not know that that something was being erased from my memory, bit by bit. And soon, I did not know that either.


    ¡°Flattering,¡± Bliss said eventually.


    ¡°Hm?¡± I grunted.


    ¡°You¡¯re finally staring at my chest. Took you long enough,¡± she giggled.


    ¡°What? No I¡¯m not,¡± I denied, shaking my head. ¡°Have I?¡± she nodded, breaking into a laugh. ¡°For how long?¡±


    ¡°A few minutes,¡± she answered, still laughing, and at last rose off me. She offered me a hand, which I took, and from there she pulled me to my feet. We were on our own in a grandiose room, far larger than the cramped confines of Bliss¡¯s quarters. I did not imagine we were here by her choice, but if not hers, whose?


    ¡°How did we get here?¡± I asked, reaching to my head, suffering from a bit of a headache. Historically, I knew I could attribute more than a few of my headaches to Bliss. It would not have surprised me if this was her doing as well.


    ¡°A story for another time, perhaps, Callant. Want to get a drink? My treat,¡± she offered.


    ¡°You¡¯re in a good mood,¡± I noted.


    ¡°Yeah, I mean, it¡¯s kind of in the name,¡± Bliss giggled. ¡°Is that a no?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a yes or a no, but sure,¡± I agreed with a shrug, still getting my bearings of my surroundings. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    Very clever, Blackgar, Cronos seethed as Bliss led me from the large, chapel-like structure. For once, I did not know what the daemon was referring to, unless it, too, had been enthralled with Bliss¡¯s chest. Perhaps it had been; she had even enticed Space Wolves in the past.

 Chapter 108 - Contact

    A lone Condemner Bolter¡ªmine¡ªlaid upon the table between us all, catching the gaze of most mortal eyes, unlike the other armaments scattered in view. A pair of Techpriests were resanctifying the weapon, filling the dimly-lit war room with wafts of sharp incense. ¡°Eyes front,¡± I commanded of the room, trying to refocus the gaze of my mortal allies back to me. They all obliged. ¡°Silas, have your operatives been fitted with their armatures?¡±


    ¡°They have, sir, yes, but we have yet to receive the armaments themselves,¡± he answered, gesturing to my Condemner.


    ¡°Alas you won¡¯t be getting those, exactly,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Your men will be getting units of the Godwyn-De¡¯az Pattern, same as our Sisters,¡± I explained, and looked to Lucene and the two Sisters that flanked her, all of whom nodded in agreement. I then looked back to the trio of Scions in the room, Silas and two of his trusted operatives, though none were as close to him as the likes of Luther, Xavier, or Czevia had been. ¡°Any of you ever fired a Bolt weapon before?¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± they said in unison, shaking their heads.


    ¡°Well, other than ensuring the operational functionality of your supporting armatures, that you don¡¯t blow your own arms off from the recoil of this sacred weapon, I must insist upon very disciplined shooting,¡± I explained, and the two Scions that flanked Silas seemed insulted that I could lecture them about weapons discipline. Silas, however, accepted the recommendation without emotional attachment. ¡°Each of us will have three twenty-round magazines, and these are automatic weapons by default. I anticipate an extended engagement, which means the conservation of ammo will be crucial. It may be tempting to hold the trigger of a Bolter and unleash Holy Wrath upon all those before you, but not only is your body unlikely to survive such a thing¡ªarmature or not¡ªbut so, too, would you compromise your unit. And I cannot have that,¡± I explained. ¡°Single fire is all I want to hear from any non-Astartes, is that understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the Scions and Sisters answered at once. The war room consisted of the three Scions and three Sisters as mentioned. It also featured Sergeant Astal and two of his Red Hunters, as¡ªbless their souls¡ªthey had agreed to heed my command for this operation, when asked by Lord van der Skar some years ago. The two Techpriests that were sanctifying my weapon had arrived in the room with Massino Varnus, representing the Mechanicus involvement in this ordeal. Flanking me, as representatives of the Inquisition, were Zha and Bliss.


    Anyone not represented by the groups present was not going to join me on the frontlines in eliminating Ouranos. I had already made that decision, hard as it was. That meant Galen, Mirena, and Castecael were out. Galen was out because I did not expect a Knight to find much operational capability within the confines of an enemy vessel, save for serving as a distraction while being mauled by enemy hordes. Castecael was out because I anticipated tremendous casualties, not merely aboard Ouranos¡¯s vessel, and we would need rapid and experienced medicae involvement to minimize the damage. And Mirena¡­she, I knew, would be the most upset by my decision. But she was not a foot soldier, not as everyone else was. I needed and wanted her in the void, dangerous as it may be, but that danger would do nothing to assuage the pain of being apart from me in what might very well be my final hour.


    The true betrayal, however, was not for those that were not made aware of this war council, but for Zha Trantos, who I had every intention of forbidding from joining me aboard Ouranos¡¯s ship. I wanted her coordinating things from afar, where she was most able. She was not an incapable soldier; years of Inquisitorial experience had molded her into what would be a valuable asset in overtaking Ouranos from within the confines of his ship. But we had, I believed, enough soldiers as it was; adding too many of the Imperium¡¯s heroes in one place was to risk their lives for no substantial gain, past a point. I wanted her aware of our tactical plans, and to have her weigh in on them, but when the time came, I intended to leave her behind on the Coldbreed.


    I felt, in reflecting upon that fact, as Thaddeus Scayn must have felt on Hestia Majoris, insisting I leave the planet when he had discovered the depths of the heretics¡¯ schemes. Shielding Zha from the horrors I intended to face certainly felt like the right move; if anyone could bring Ouranos down in my absence, it would be her, and were I to perish, she would have all the motivation and fury to see such a task through. I wondered if Thaddeus knew this about me, too.


    ¡°Varnus, what is the status of the dissemination of our armaments to our friends?¡± I asked him, gesturing to Silas and his Scions as ¡®our friends.¡¯


    ¡°Sanctification is nearing completion. The Machine Spirits of the armaments have been properly calibrated and lexiconographic security wards successfully implanted within each device. Dissemination can begin by the end of this day, as Mars wills it,¡± Varnus reported.


    ¡°Ensure it so. This is your top priority, Massino,¡± I insisted via his first name. ¡°What of your own armaments?¡±


    ¡°We intend to field sixteen tech adepts, enginseers, and techsorcists¡ªincluding this unit,¡± he began, referring to himself. ¡°Each possesses an arc rifle calibrated to minimize friendly fire and radiological contamination for extended combat aside allied flesh.¡±


    ¡°Much appreciated,¡± Silas grunted.


    ¡°The tech adepts and techsorcists will each be fielding a single Servitor unit with utility weaponry as each sees fit. The enginseers will field two such Servitors, for operating your armored division of vehicles,¡± Varnus finished reporting, paying no mind to Silas¡¯s interruption.


    ¡°What sort of armor can we expect in that division?¡± Sergeant Astal asked, the first utterance from any of the Red Hunters thus far in our meeting. The voice of one of the Emperor¡¯s Angels stirred the gaze of my allies from me toward him, even as I answered. I cannot say I minded.


    ¡°One Chimera, prioritizing utility. Two Leman Russ Exterminators and one Demolisher,¡± I reported.


    ¡°And enemy armor?¡± Astal furthered.


    ¡°About that,¡± I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°Specifics of the enemy¡¯s capabilities are unknown. But I expect them to be capable of everything we are, at a minimum. I would anticipate enemy armor, though I cannot guess of its form or function. I also want to point out that I believe we should anticipate opposition from Xenos as much as the daemonic. Though our enemy is a heretic among the ranks of the archenemy, I believe he commands a Space Hulk, and they are always rife with some manner of foul Xenos which we may need to exterminate for Holy Terra.¡±


    ¡°How does one tell the difference between a Xenos and a Daemon?¡± one of the Scions asked.


    In response, Silas reached into the jacket of that Scion and pulled out a small pamphlet before dropping it to the table between us. ¡°If it¡¯s in there, it¡¯s Xenos scum,¡± Silas explained, pointing to the Imperial Infantrymen¡¯s Uplifting Primer. ¡°If it is not, it is daemonic.¡±


    ¡°A fair enough guideline,¡± I agreed. ¡°Which brings me to my next point: Daemons are terrifying. That probably isn¡¯t a surprise, given the name, but the source of their strength is your fear. You will want to run from them, to take cover and shoot them from afar. You will find this ineffective. Our brethren in the Ordo Malleus have found daemons most weak to symbols of the Emperor, and for that, you will be given sanctified blades with which to combat them, chain weapons and power weapons alike,¡± I explained, and then reached to Drepane holstered on my waist, and drew and engaged the Nemesis falchion before them. ¡°Weapons such as these are the bane of the archenemy. Do not give the foe the power of your fear. Arm yourself with your wrath, and harden yourself through the shield of contempt. In this, you will give the daemonic something to fear.¡± I then sheathed Drepane after disengaging it.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    As if, Cronos muttered from the back of my head.


    ¡°As we¡¯re getting into battle tactics, this begs the involvement of one far more knowledgeable than myself,¡± I introduced, stepping away from the table for a moment and letting Zha take the reins of the conversation. Bliss wrapped an arm around my waist as Zha shielded the action from view of the others. As Zha began speaking, I glanced to Bliss, who simply gave me a friendly wink.


    ¡°Five Astartes, three armored vehicles, ten Sisters, twenty Scions, sixteen Techpriests and their associate Servitors, and three Inquisitors,¡± Zha surmised, recounting what had already been established for everyone. ¡°We field a strike force that should stir fear into the deepest bowels of mankind¡¯s darkest foes. But not this one; this foe will not fear our numbers or unit composition. Take no pride in your own presence, save for when the day is won. Our mission is to kill one man; in that regard, you can think of this as an assassination operation. To accomplish this, we will need to work together; all of us,¡± she said, and then stared Sergeant Astal dead in the eye. ¡°Astartes, you are faster, stronger, more resilient, and more capable than us. But you are not invincible¡ªa fact my superior, in Callant Blackgar, has demonstrated on numerous occasions among your traitorous ilk. Much as we will benefit from your aid, you will require ours. It is imperative we work together.


    ¡°To that end, as we push through the corridors of a baleful amalgamation of enemy vessels in what we believe to be a Space Hulk, I envision a column for our convoy of armored vehicles, reinforced at the rear with two of our Astartes, and at the front with three. Aside this column, a spread of our Sororitas, Scions, and Techpriests, organized such that any needed operative type can respond to any needed encounter as swiftly as possible. As we are moving with an armored convoy, our pathing will be dictated by the presence of halls large enough to hold our vehicles and allow them to maneuver. This necessitates leaving smaller passageways uncleared, which will allow for our enemy to flank us. Accordingly, our flank must be kept well guarded at all times, and we must be ready to respond to an attack on any side of our convoy at a moment¡¯s notice. As we will be prioritizing wider halls, when an attack at our front or rear occurs, two thirds of the operatives nearest to the assault are to spread out in echelon formation to provide fire support. The furthest third is to remain opposite the assault in case of a combined attack from the foe, though one Astartes is to patrol the length of the convoy during an assault to respond to any threats to our infantry¡¯s echelon formation,¡± Zha explained. She went on further, detailing every conceivable combat scenario in vivid detail. We could expect an attack from the enemy above us, below us, in front, behind, or aside us. As we intended to fight the daemonic, we needed to anticipate the enemy appearing immediately between our ranks themselves. And Zha accounted for all such scenarios and more.


    I would not say I was disinterested. In fact, I was heavily invested in Zha¡¯s tactical breakdown of our invasion plan. It had been ages since I had received such an analysis from someone so militarily intelligent. Indeed, my savant would have made as fine a General of the Astra Militarum as she made an Inquisitor. As she gave marching orders to all of our operatives, I began to feel a bit like the soldier I used to be, even if she was not providing orders to me directly. But I would be remiss to try to recount all of her plans here; it would take reams of scripture to commit to permanence, and while her wisdom may be worth making permanent, that is not the point of this report.


    But I will commit to permanence the profane interruption of Zha¡¯s scenario outline, which transpired about an hour and a half into my savant¡¯s display of brilliancy. ¡°Am I interrupting something important?¡± called a voice familiar only to me over the Coldbreed¡¯s vox, thankfully only into our war room.


    ¡°Only crucially so,¡± Lucene growled, looking up at the ceiling toward the vox unit. But I held a hand up and stepped out of Bliss¡¯s embrace, moving toward the table upon which we were drawing our battle plans. I got the sense that all the rest of the room believed the voice to be one of Coldbreed¡¯s crew, perhaps a deckhand for Captain Vakian. But I knew better.


    ¡°Ouranos,¡± I said in wonder, my eyes glued to the vox unit above.


    ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± Ouranos replied.


    For the moment, I had no response. What does one say to the enemy, when one has the opportunity to speak but not to shoot? The same awe that overpowered me also claimed the attention and wonder of many of my allies in the room, even the Techpriests, but not the Astartes. ¡°The enemy? What foul trick is this?¡± Sergeant Astal seethed, raising his Bolter to the ceiling.


    ¡°Wait, Astartes,¡± I insisted, and though they did not lower their aim, they did not fire upon the ceiling vox. I then glanced upward again. ¡°What do you want, heretic?¡±


    ¡°Straight to the point and the denunciation, are we?¡± Ouranos chuckled. ¡°And here I thought we might catch up on your having slayed Mortoc¡ªas I knew you would,¡± he offered, to which I glanced to Bliss. Her eyes did not meet mine, instead shying away from the vox unit¡ªand my gaze¡ªsheepishly, still ashamed of her decision to abandon me on Jaegetri until after she had taken Mortoc¡¯s life.


    ¡°I have little to say to scum such as you,¡± I replied, looking back to the vox.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s just as well. We will speak again soon, you and I, but my message today is not for you,¡± Ouranos explained.


    ¡°For who, then?¡± Varnus asked, disdain all but seeping out from his mechanized throat.


    ¡°You, of course. All of you. All of Callant Blackgar¡¯s allies,¡± Ouranos answered. ¡°I promised Callant Blackgar destruction. For any that intend to side with him, I can promise them their deaths or destruction likewise. But I do not require that. You need not die for nothing. You need not stand by his side in an exercise of futility.¡±


    ¡°And here we were warned you were a savant,¡± Bliss growled, a fire burning in her eyes that I had not seen ignited since our approach to Jaegetri.


    ¡°Meaning?¡± Ouranos asked.


    ¡°Meaning I do not stand by my brother¡¯s side, I shield him with my own life from claw, tooth, and bullet, as is my duty and my desire,¡± Silas answered, resolute. ¡°And you would have to be a moron to think an alternative was possible.¡±


    Lucene furthered Silas¡¯s point, close to me as she was, in attacking Ouranos from a theological position. ¡°Even in an hour as dark as this, you find yourself at odds with the most loyal of His servants, and to think we would shirk in our responsibility to His light will only see you blinded by our radiance. There is not a soul on this ship that will not jump at the opportunity to serve at Callant¡¯s side.¡±


    Ouranos replied only with a chuckle at first. He and I expected such a response from my allies, no doubt. That was the whole point, I wagered¡ªa wager made safer based on his follow-up. ¡°Well, Inquisitor, it would seem you¡¯ve inspired self-sacrificial loyalty in all you know,¡± Ouranos mocked. ¡°How does that feel? How will it feel when all that loyalty is sacrificed in vain? How will it feel to see their light burned to a shadow on walls your Imperium will forget about in a few years, if not months?¡±


    ¡°How does it feel?¡± I asked, seething. ¡°You will know how it feels when the bridge of your nose is broken under the barrel of my Bolter. You will know how it feels when I flense you alive until you decry the very darkness you abide by, and seek the light once more, heretic. You will know how it feels when I paint the halls of your desecrated vessel with the contents of your skull. All this, born from their loyalty. You will know that, and you will fear it until I free you of your fear at your life¡¯s end. That is how it will feel,¡± I answered, and as Ouranos returned to chuckling, before the Astartes in the room could have pulled the triggers of their own weapons, my Bolt Pistol shot from my side into the grasp of an outstretched hand and blew the vox unit out of the ceiling, silencing our enemy for good.


    Upon doing so, the war room¡¯s sirens blared at once, red lights illuminating all figures from all sides. Enemy contact.

 Chapter 109 - Arrival

    ¡°Like moths to a flame,¡± I muttered as I took the bridge, joined by most of the crew that I had just been meeting with. Only Varnus and his techpriests did not follow, instead doing as I had ordered and seeing to the sanctification and dissemination of the arms we intended to give to our allies. ¡°These petulant gnats are far from our focus,¡± I growled, grimacing out the viewport at the end of the command bridge. The Heralds of the Cataclysm had returned, the Thousand Sons Warband we had encountered earlier. It felt like I had been here before, seeing a larger enemy fleet appear after their inferior attack was quashed some days prior. First the Shatter Corps, now another Warband of another Legion. If I needed to crush them to get to Ouranos, Throne Almighty, I would.


    ¡°Where are all of you coming from?¡± Mirena wondered, making note of the fact that a number of us had arrived together from our clandestine meeting. ¡°And should I get out there, do you think, Cal?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I think it best you do,¡± I admitted before confirming to Captain Vakian to scramble our fighters. ¡°Never any shame in spending a day killing heretics, regardless of their shape or size,¡± I grumbled to myself, crossing my arms in front of me after Mirena had left. I then looked back to Vakian. ¡°Do we have a channel open with the Dawnshadow or its supporting fleet?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We do, Inquisitor. Linking it to your vox now. Use it as needed,¡± Vakian reported. I thanked him, but returned to scowling toward the blue warpfire beyond my vessel. The Dawnshadow was not alone when we had found it, but its accompanying fleet was not as large as it had been during the Battles of Quintus fought against the Shatter Corps. Just as well; even now, the Thousand Sons forces seemed more like a heavy skirmish force meant to match mine than one intended for a prolonged conflict, as Mortoc had fielded. Alas, the raw military might of the Iron Warriors was easily definable at a glance; the same could not be said of the Thousand Sons, whose strength came from the Warp, and was therefore the very definition of unpredictable.


    ¡°And what of your infantry, Cal?¡± Silas asked from some distance behind me. I glanced to him and allowed myself a small smirk as well, though it was short-lived. ¡®Your infantry,¡¯ as though that was all they were to me. But yes, Silas was referring to himself and my Scions, as well as the Sisters under my command¡ªand possibly also the Red Hunters. None of them had much need to join me on the bridge as they had, but Silas knew from the initial battle reports with this enemy that this foe was not prone to using Boarding Torpedoes as the Shatter Corps had been. How, then, could such ¡®infantry¡¯ be of use in a naval battle?


    ¡°Spread through the ship as you would regardless; we may not be boarded, but this foe may violate our security of self all the same with their vile witchcraft. Ensure the halls of this vessel remain firmly under our control and do not descend into rebellion,¡± I commanded, and with a nod, the Scions and Sisters¡ªincluding Lucene¡ªdeparted from the bridge. The Red Hunters did not, instead remaining as monolithic slabs of crimson at the rear end of the room. I eyed them for a moment, and believe Santinus Astal looked me over as well, but I could not discern whether he was looking for orders from me. It was not my place to tell him or his brothers what to do; I believe I reminded him of that when I looked away, letting them decide their own duty.


    With much of my forces disseminated throughout the ship, only the pair of my fellow Inquisitors remained, we three doomed to the banalities of oversight. I think the role of leadership irked Bliss almost as much as it bothered me; we were both crafted for combat and action, but, in being Inquisitors, were also too important to waste on such a triviality in the grand scheme of things. Zha, however, for all her formidable combative ability, never seemed to mind any role she ever found herself in. I envied her that, as I once had her smiles of old.


    While I crossed my arms in contempt of the Thousand Sons before us, and while Bliss raised her left arm to rub my backside encouragingly, Zha asked a pointed question of me. ¡°Does Cronos have an opinion of them?¡±


    ¡°Of who? Those Thousand Sons?¡± I asked, and she nodded. ¡°I do not care much to learn the opinions of the daemonic, and I would recommend you not concern yourself with them either.¡±


    ¡°I understand your disapproval,¡± Zha admitted with a shrug. ¡°But we have already observed the infighting of Chaos. Mortoc, for instance, had chained a World Eater to torment, as you observed and reported,¡± she suggested. ¡°If Cronos knows of these foes and holds them in contempt as we do, it may be able to provide us with some insight against them.¡±


    ¡°A very radical thought,¡± Bliss cautioned her, to which I nodded in agreement, even though I understood where Zha was coming from. The enemy of my enemy may not have been my friend, but they could still be useful. And I had already ¡®used¡¯ Cronos once before, in learning the name of another daemon to better banish it and save Mirena.


    ¡°Even if Cronos does oppose these `Sons, any insight or recommendation it could give us should be acted on only with the utmost caution,¡± I asserted. ¡°I imagine the daemon would much prefer to see us all destroyed in totality, rather than only one or the other.¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    You could just ask, Cronos suggested.


    I do not wish to, I thought back.


    You are much too fun to waste on them, if it is any consolation, Blackgar.


    With a heavy sigh, I shook my head, and then revealed, ¡°It seems likely Cronos does not hold these Thousand Sons in high regard. But I will not entertain any ¡®insights¡¯ it might be inclined to offer.¡±


    Pity.


    Understanding that I had just been in contact with the daemon, Bliss took to rubbing my back more firmly. Her grasp felt not unlike Lucene¡¯s; both were capable of keeping me grounded in reality, which I appreciated. At around this time, our aggressors had entered into our optimal firing range, and we theirs, and so our mutual hatred of one another was marked with the shaking of our vessel from the firing and receiving of lance batteries, ours a seething red and theirs a profane blue. One could only imagine what blasphemous changes they had made to their once-holy weaponry as to diffract the color so, but one would be wiser not to think of it much at all.


    Instead, my thoughts drifted to the nature of the conversation I had just had with my fellow Inquisitors, bringing me to admit to Zha, ¡°You worry me.¡± She looked to me, mildly pained by my comment, but maintained her composure. She said nothing aloud in response, but her gaze said enough; she wanted an explanation. I provided further: ¡°You come from a world once doomed to be a daemon world, were it not for my intervention. I could overlook that, as you were competently cleared for Inquisitorial conduct in the months after. But you expressed a weakness in loss after Hestia Majoris, as well as a rage on Canicus, and further a curiosity on Arctoros 5, within Absalom¡¯s accursed Warp-fortress. These are things the daemonic can prey upon. And now I ask so much of you. Am I wrong to worry?¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose your fears are not unfounded,¡± she said with a shrug, and then looked forward again, back toward the vibrant blue flames of the Thousand Sons. ¡°And indeed, you may be right to worry. But you charged me with defeating and destroying Cronos. I cannot accomplish such a task with my hands tied. If you want me to outsmart the daemon, I will need to understand it and its thinking. And yes, that comprehension may corrupt, ruin, and kill me. That is a sacrifice I am willing to make to kill Cronos. Are you?¡±


    ¡°I think, as many do, that I am already corrupted, and destined for ruination and death,¡± I answered.


    ¡°But are you willing to sacrifice me?¡± she asked again, clarifying her initial question.


    I looked to her, to the now-centuries-old Inquisitor that had once been my young, amicable savant, and found that I had no answer. And that was an answer enough. She knew it, and winced when I looked away. I wanted her to be too valuable to waste on Cronos, but I knew better, because Lord van der Skar had once forced me to know and be better. ¡®No single man or woman is worth the Imperium.¡¯ If her life, and mine, were the cost to defeat Cronos, then that cost must be paid, reluctant though I was to pay it.


    I thought, then, to ask of Cronos for the information she sought. If I was already forfeit, then I may as well give her a fighting chance to best the daemon, even if forcing her to begin her own test of will; a test I was failing. But, perhaps for the best, I never got the chance to even think such thoughts to Cronos. Instead, all attention and focus was given to a new, and very large, Warp translation tunnel that awed into reality. It was not like the vast, unblinking eyes of the Thousand Sons, and instead appeared as though the blackness of space folded in upon itself to some deeper, emptier, more horrific darkness, and for its sheer scale in size, that horror was immense indeed. This all occurred far beyond the enemy fleet of the Thousand Sons, and despite the distance involved, still made the many vessels of the traitor warband seem insignificantly small in comparison.


    I looked upon the self-collapsing horror beyond for a few moments, enraptured in awful wonder, before understanding what was about to emerge from this Warp Translation. I had already seen it once before, though I could not then place a name to the vessel I expected to witness a second time. And sure enough, when empty space had had enough of its own destruction, it reasserted itself into fractured reality, fragments of nothingness coalescing to create a terrible something, more specifically a Space Hulk, the very one that I had seen before, in the Warp.


    Before anyone, in my fleet or within the traitor warband, could do anything to respond to the Space Hulk¡¯s sudden forcible-entry upon reality, the titanic vessel opened fire, and in seconds obliterated the entirety of the Thousand Sons fleet. An immediate show of total supremacy, intending to¡ªand succeeding at least for me¡ªto intimidate any Inquisitorial survivors into submission. As a dozen traitor warships erupted into black and blue flame and careened aimlessly against the dark space beyond, Captain Vakian had the strength to report to me, ¡°A-Anomalous vessel identified as the Space Hulk Finality, Inquisitor; it¡¯s hailing us!¡±


    ¡°Put him through,¡± I murmured, and when nothing followed, realized that my initial reply was given far too quietly. ¡°Put him through,¡± I repeated, louder that time, that Captain Vakian could hear me.


    ¡°Him?¡± Vakian wondered aloud, but obliged, and accepted the hailing call of The Finality.


    ¡°Ouranos,¡± I answered, as much to reply to Vakian as to greet our new, and perhaps final, opponent that loomed before us.


    ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± he replied, an audible smile revealed in the speaking of my name despite lips unseen. ¡°It has been some time.¡±


    ¡°We just spoke moments ago,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Ah, is that so? Well, moments for you were weeks for me. The Warp is a fickle thing, as you now know firsthand. In any case, it is time you and I speak face to face. Care to hop aboard? If you wish to make things simple, leave those forces of your behind and just bring your Sister of exceptional height,¡± he suggested, referring to Lucene, who he had long professed to be the end of.


    ¡°You are undeserving of such simplicity,¡± I shook my head, seething.


    ¡°Good. I was hoping for that. It¡¯ll be war, then. War is such fun; let it be war. Shall we discuss rules of engagement?¡±

 Chapter 110 - Engagement

    <ol>


    <li>Any vessel, capital ship or lowly fighter, that fires upon The Finality will be destroyed at once. Ouranos, he claimed of himself, had demonstrated an aptitude and capability for such wanton destruction in singlehandedly destroying the Thousand Sons¡¯s fleet.</li>


    <li>Callant Blackgar and Lucene Flint must board The Finality. If they do not do so together, all in the vicinity will be killed at once.</li>


    <li>Any forces that accompany Callant Blackgar and Lucene Flint will be matched in kind, with The Finality¡¯s defensive response escalating to match the invasive force. Any that accompany the aforementioned pair can be assumed to be doing so in futility.


    <ol>


    <li>There will be no escape from The Finality, except in the circumstance that Callant Blackgar wills an ally to escape. In such a circumstance, a teleportarium device will be conjured by Ouranos nearby, and that ally can be removed from the scene of combat, by force if necessary. This will not apply to Lucene Flint.</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>The innards of The Finality are ever-changing. Attempts to locate Ouranos¡¯s command bridge from beyond will fail, or if successful, will prove only temporarily so. This compounds upon Point 1), in dissuading external aid from firing upon The Finality, and reinforces Point 3), in that Ouranos¡¯s command bridge will not reveal itself to any group until only Callant Blackgar and Lucene Flint remain.</li>


    <li>Light will return to Ixaniad only when the Darkness claims Callant Blackgar.</li>


    </ol>


    By these rules, and these rules alone, the fury of the Holy Inquisition may clash with Ouranos, Warden of the Abyssal Oubliette.


    ***


    All forces that were initially dispatched to handle the Thousand Sons¡¯s fleet were recalled before Ouranos dictated the above to us; us, in this case, being the entirety of my fleet as well as The Dawnshadow. After his explanation, I contacted Lycia, and she and I agreed that this was not The Dawnshadow¡¯s fight. This was an ending made for me alone, yet if there was to be an Ixaniad Sector beyond this encounter, The Dawnshadow could not risk itself for me.


    After that conversation, I put the call out through Coldbreed¡ª¡°Invasion forces to launch bay three.¡± I knew that the call would summon those that I did not intend to field in this fight; Mirena, Galen, Castecael. I also knew that Zha would join me on the journey down to the launch bay, being at my side in the bridge, with Bliss. However, before departing on what I suspected would be a one-way trip, I made sure to speak with my captain. ¡°Caleb,¡± I called to him, turning from the bridge¡¯s frontal viewport and, for a time, putting The Finality behind me. He looked up attentively. ¡°You and your father have served the Inquisition well for more than a century. I have but one final request of you, and it is not to squander your life or the lives of your men in opposing the Rules of Engagement as our foe has outlined on my behalf.¡±


    ¡°You would ask that I not fulfill my duty to the Throne?¡± Caleb frowned. ¡°I see, far beyond these walls, an enemy of humanity that needs destroying. And as captain of this fleet¡ª¡±


    ¡°I will destroy him. You have my word of that,¡± I said, and then furthered my conversation in thought; I had never so-spoken to him with my mind before, ever content to speak with my captain aloud. But desperate times called for desperate measures. +She does not know it yet, but you will, while I am gone, answer to Inquisitor Trantos. And if I do not return, I ask you serve her in my stead, for as long as you deem her worthy, or as long as she asks of you.+


    Caleb¡¯s eyes briefly flicked to Zha, who undoubtedly caught his glance but did not then understand it. But he quickly returned to looking to me. ¡°As you say, Inquisitor Blackgar. It has been my honor to serve you and, in doing so, bring a greater honor to my family,¡± he said, and then shot himself into a fine, militant posture, where once he had been hunched over a cogitator terminal. In such a refined stance, he saluted me, and declared, ¡°Ave Imperator! The Emperor Protects!¡±


    ¡°The Emperor Protects,¡± I agreed, and saluted him in return¡ªfar from customary for an Inquisitor to ever salute a naval officer. But, as I had come to learn, I was not a very customary Inquisitor. ¡°We must make haste,¡± I then said to the two Inquisitors at my sides, and in uniform agreement, we departed from the bridge. I suspected I would never see Captain Caleb Vakian again, but if I did, Ouranos would have been dead. I very much hoped to see my captain again.


    I said little on our journey¡ªthough I sensed the multitudes unspoken that both Bliss and Zha wished to say to me¡ªand instead thought deeply about how I would turn Zha down, reminiscing, again, on my final conversation with Thaddeus Scayn all those long and storied years ago.


    ¡°And if I say no?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be sorely heartbroken.¡±


    Such hope I had for Zha, that to waste her upon Ouranos would be a greater ruination than any the bastard could craft for me. And yet, surely, I was an equal source of pride for Scayn, in being his prot¨¦g¨¦, as Zha was mine. I had not shirked from Abseradon; could I really, then, expect her to turn away from Ouranos? Perhaps I could not expect such a thing, but I so very greatly desired it.


    ¡°Watch him, Penitent. He knows not of what he seeks.¡±


    Well, Scayn had been right about that.


    As we made our way through the unending corridors of the ship that had been my home for almost two centuries, I found myself looking to Zha on more than one occasion. What would it cost her, if not her life, to board The Finality? My hubris had cost me an arm, and later an eye. To me, Zha was still the young girl that had found my retinue after the Thantalus incident; could I ask her to sacrifice so much of herself in my fight? I looked to Bliss, and I found that her usual joviality was long-since departed. There were no smiles upon the faces of either of the women who had, for so much of my life, been known for the joy they beamed out. But there was no joy today.


    Upon our arrival at launch bay three, I found my usual cadre waiting for me, with Silas, Varnus, and Lucene awkwardly positioned among those they knew would not be joining us. Before I could speak to any of them, Bliss tapped me on the shoulder and said, ¡°I¡¯ll just be a minute.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I nodded, understanding that she was going to fetch her stash of equipment somewhere nearby. Without another word, she left to prepare herself. When she had left, I turned to the rest, and greeted them, ¡°My friends.¡±


    ¡°We have a plan for skinning this bastard, Cal?¡± Mirena asked in response, straight to the point.


    Painfully, I nodded, and then said, ¡°We do. You¡­will not be joining us.¡±


    Fire erupted in Mirena¡¯s silver-steel eyes, as I knew it would, and her fists clenched at her sides. ¡°Like hell!¡± she roared, and stepped toward me, but Castecael held Mirena back with a hand to her chest. ¡°Let go of me, Cast! Cal! There is zero chance I don¡¯t join you in there!¡± she shouted, to which I shook my head. ¡°You bastard,¡± she hissed through gritted teeth. ¡°No. Not after everything. There isn¡¯t a world where you venture into this darkness without me.¡±


    As a tear fell from my one, solitary eye, I answered, ¡°There¡¯s this one. I need you out here, with the fleet. In your fighter.¡±


    ¡°Ouranos said he¡¯d shoot anything out of the sky,¡± Galen noted.


    ¡°Only if it opened fire on The Finality,¡± I added, and then turned back to Mirena. ¡°Which you will not. Instead, you¡¯ll scan every last inch of that ship and find the bastard wherever he¡¯s lurking. And even if his position may change to shield himself, you will find him, and keep finding him, until he makes the mistake of appearing in front of our lance batteries.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just tell Vakian not to¡ªand I quote¡ªsquander himself on this battle?¡± Zha asked me.


    I nodded. ¡°I also told him to obey every order you give him, because you will not be joining us either, Ms. Trantos.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she shrieked. It was the loudest, shrillest, and angriest I had ever heard her. ¡°Why the hell not? It¡¯s my battle plan, it¡¯s my strategy of attack, it¡¯s my everything!¡±


    ¡°And I am immeasurably grateful for your insight in that regard,¡± I nodded. ¡°But you¡¯re a savant, Zha Trantos. Ouranos, we believe, is a savant. I don¡¯t need you to out-fight him and his forces; that¡¯s my job. Out-think him. You might be the only one that can. You all need to understand that my life is irrelevant; killing Ouranos is the only thing that matters here. We cannot allow our emotions or our bonds to interfere with that. We all have a part to play, and Throne Almighty, we¡¯re going to give it our all today. On that note, Castecael¡ª¡±


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    ¡°Yeah I figured,¡± she sighed. ¡°I¡¯m in no hurry to die, Cal, and I understand that I¡¯m a better use for you out here than in there. But don¡¯t pretend I¡¯m happy about it.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± I acknowledged with another nod. I then turned to Galen. ¡°Galen, I once promised you battles that could not be won without your aid¡ª¡±


    ¡°Which is why I am eager to fight in this one with you,¡± he assured me.


    ¡°I do not expect a Knight Castellan to find maneuverable combat in the halls of an enemy vessel,¡± I explained. ¡°As I can no longer fulfill my promise to you, I hereby relieve you of your duty to the Inquisition,¡± I told him, and was promptly met with an ironclad fist to my power-armored face. Power armor or not, the blow still knocked some lights into my eyes, and I stumbled away.


    ¡°You son of a bitch,¡± Galen hissed, not unlike Mirena, as Silas pulled him away from me. I held up a patient hand, inviting the rest of my allies to cool off, Silas included.


    ¡°I was wondering which of you would come to blows over my decisions,¡± I admitted, righting myself. At that point, Bliss, clothed as a Callidus Assassin, reappeared nearby, noticed that I was going through the rounds with the rest of my retinue, and decided it was not her business to intervene. She instead retreated deeper into the launch bay, joining the groups of Sisters, Scions, and Tech Priests that were joining me for our invasion. All but the Tech Priests gave her a wide berth, even the Red Hunters.


    ¡°I imagine we¡¯re all thinking about it,¡± Mirena growled, to which Castecael and Zha both nodded. Galen, then out of Silas¡¯s restraint, paced around the scene, trying to cool his thoughts. ¡°What about them?¡± Mirena asked, gesturing to the trio I had not spoken to, and then to those deeper in the launch bay. ¡°You telling them to stay behind?¡±


    ¡°Any who wish to serve the Throne another day may do so,¡± I declared.


    ¡°Like anyone here would prefer that over dying by your side, Cal,¡± Mirena seethed.


    ¡°And if that is true, their lives are best spent aboard The Finality, rather than beyond its terrible hull, where your lives are better put to use,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I am, to deny you this¡­this thing, this terrible thing. This opportunity to die by my side, as you think you deserve. But all any of us deserve is to die in service to the Throne, and only as long as in that service we are. For some of you, death may not come today. But it will. Take it then. I am sorry I may not join you at the end. Zha, the whole fleet is yours. Use it as you see fit. But I would recommend preparing an Exterminatus on all our vessels, probably Cyclonic Torpedoes. If, Throne forbid it, but if I fail to kill Ouranos, he still must die. Blow The Finality to hell if I am lost.¡±


    ¡°Why not just lead with that and move on with our lives? Why board the damned ship at all?¡± Galen shouted, then some distance away.


    ¡°It would take too long,¡± Zha answered, to which I nodded yet again.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. An Exterminatus takes time to prepare. Ouranos did not say when I am due to board his ship, but I get the sense that if we sit here staring at him for too long, he will start picking our fleet apart. And we don¡¯t have the means to defend against a space hulk¡¯s full array of weaponry,¡± I said. After that, Mirena stormed past me, brushing into my side and forcing herself on. She would not have had the strength to move my power armor aside if I did not let her, but I had no reason to keep her here, save for to say goodbye. And her eyes said that in spades, if coupled with rage and despair. ¡°You have your orders, my friends,¡± I started, but Galen cut me off.


    ¡°Mine are what? Leave?¡± he asked, and I think he was of half a mind to punch my face in again.


    ¡°If that is what you wish, Freeblade, yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°And as a Freeblade, what if I were to board that vessel on my own?¡± he suggested.


    ¡°If you can find the resources to do so, you may. But you will be shot before you take manpower or transport from the Inquisition,¡± I answered. ¡°May the Emperor watch over you all. Good luck,¡± I finished, and made to proceed, but Zha shot a hand to my chest, holding me still. I looked to her and found her eyes closed, but racing beneath their eyelids. She was thinking, and fast as she could.


    When her eyes did next open, she glowered toward me, and said simply, ¡°5.3%.¡±


    ¡°Is that in reference to something?¡± I wondered.


    ¡°When we devised our means of transport here, yes. I believe you contributed 5.3% of the mental processing between us both. Which is to say, you can think like a savant 5.3% as efficiently,¡± she explained, lowering her palm from my torso. ¡°Or, another way, you might have a 5.3% chance of out-thinking him too, Inquisitor Blackgar. Don¡¯t neglect that, for your sake and the sake of the Blessed Imperium. Ouranos will die in this operation; we will make sure of that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, he will,¡± I agreed, and was then allowed to walk past Zha at last, stepping up to Silas, Lucene, and Varnus. ¡°You should move to your units. I will have words for them all as well.¡±


    ¡°I shall, but I first need a word in private with your Inquisitor-savant,¡± Varnus replied, and, after a gesture inviting him to step to Zha, moved past me to her.


    ¡°Farewell,¡± I said to those of my retinue, glancing behind me to see their soured, but sorrowful, faces. Faces which I would not ever forget. I also saw Varnus handing a parchment to Zha, but paid it no mind; their business was their business. In that, I departed behind the pace of Silas and Lucene, letting them lead the way and get some distance on me, that they might arrive at their respective units before I would. In time, Varnus finished his discussion with Zha¡ªthe latter of which left the launch bay in a hurry, prompting Galen and Castecael to follow after her¡ªand joined his own unit of Tech Priests ahead of me.


    It was then that I cleared my throat and, having spent days thinking about what next to say, called to them. ¡°Agents of the Inquisition and the Holy Imperium, we embark now on a mission most perilous. Death is no certainty, but it is likelier now than it has ever been in our service thus far. In light of this, those of you that served with me on Arctoros 5 have been given a vial of sleek, silvery liquid. It is recommended you ingest the contents of this vial if your life is at an end, and to provide such a mercy to your compatriots if they cannot do so themselves. It will not kill you outright, thanks to your rejuvenat, but we believe it will counteract the machinations of our long-ago foe. But enough about that past; we must turn our gaze to the present.


    ¡°This is an assassination mission. Though heavy defensive opposition is expected, we are only here to kill a single man. Once completed¡­well, escape is no guarantee. All manner of terror and torment may break loose upon the enemy vessel should we succeed. But when we succeed, if we can hold out for reinforcements, they will come. Our foe lurks on the vessel¡¯s command bridge, but the location of that is at this time unknown, and it has been suggested that through means most heretical, this information, once learned, may be prone to change,¡± I explained, and then shook my head, sighing. ¡°In other words, we¡¯re boarding an enemy vessel filled to the brim with enemy forces to find and kill someone located in an absolutely unknowable position. We anticipate encounters with forces Xenos and Daemonic alike, and possibly even human, albeit heretical. If you see someone or something that is not currently present on this bridge, shoot it or stab it. There will not be time for question or hesitation. For specific operational orders, refer to your unit leaders.¡±


    Though I had given volumes of thought to what to say next, I still found it not so easy to say. I hesitated, biting my lip, and then at last continued. ¡°I am north of 250 years of age, and have spent every second of my life in service to the Throne. I expect this trend to terminate during this operation, and it¡¯s only fair if you expect the same of yourself. As many of you know, I formerly served as a Commissar in the Militarum, inspiring soldiers like yourselves to throw themselves into the fire against impossible odds. Now, even as an Inquisitor, I find myself needing to do that again. These odds we face today¡­are not survivable. Anyone who boards The Finality is likely to die upon The Finality. And I have gotten too many of my men and women killed. It¡¯s not very Inquisitorial, and far less Commissarial, but if any of you do not wish to die in futility by my side, I will not ask you to, not before boarding. So if you value your life more than your service to me and to the Golden Throne, I will let you leave this bay and I personally will not think any less of you, though I will recommend you find Inquisitor Trantos, and seek her guidance or abide her suggested penance. But if you board The Finality with me, if you fight with me, and if you die with me, I can promise you¡­¡±


    A pause.


    Again, I bit my lip and shook my head, though the hesitation was far shorter than before.


    ¡°I can promise you nothing. There is nothing you will achieve on that ship worth your own life, save for the completion of the mission, and we may not even achieve that. We may all go there and we may all die before our target does, but we will have at least bought time for our allies to blow the ship to hell in our wake. Glory? Valor? Some intangible, unknowable force of will or recognition of status? There isn¡¯t any of that on The Finality for any of us, as our operations are secret, by necessity. Not a soul in all the Imperium will know what happens today, save for us. But our enemy? Our enemy will know, yes; if we are to die, then we will die fighting, and it shall be such a fight that no psykanic-ritual or mind-trick or basic therapy will ever spare the foe of the trauma of having crossed us. If we are to fail, than we will haunt our foe eternal, and any horror they ever could conjure will pale against what we have done to them. I know this, because in a quarter-millennia of life, I have never known Agents of the Throne as great, vibrant, and furious as you. Our fury is the kind that burns into the blackness of the void and scars it far and wide, our light His light. And if casting the heretic unto damnation is good enough reason for you to meet your own end, well, it was good enough for me to become an Inquisitor. So, to each of you: Life? Or furious, violent, merciless Death?¡±


    I received my first response from a Tempestus Scion¡ªnot Silas¡ªwho rested the butt of his newfound Bolter on the deck and knelt before me, leaning the blocky handguard near its barrel against his neck while he crossed hands into the Sign of the Aquila upon his chest. Though verbally silent, the message was clear, and spread throughout the rest of the bay, uniformly, across Scion, Sister, and Tech Priest, with Silas, Lucene, and Varnus joining in the motion as well. Even the Astartes answered in the same manner, as did the singular Callidus on her own some short distance away from the rest.


    Death.


    ***


    Ms. Trantos,


    If you are reading this, I have either perished, or have gone for Ouranos''s vessel, leaving you in charge of all of my assets. Varnus, I assume, has given you this parchment, as I ensured I would not remember its existence, let alone its contents. You are the only one that can be trusted with what I write below, more than even I can be. So pay attention, and good luck.

 Chapter 111 - Katabasis

    I held the late Lord Caliman¡¯s Rosarius in gauntleted hands before me as we sailed through the empty void toward The Finality, aboard our boarding craft. It had never been, to me, an idol to pray to, yet here I was, hoping our Beneficent Emperor could hear my thoughts even in the deep blackness that had taken us in the wake of Cadia¡¯s fall. I could not tell you what my prayers were at the time, and not because I would have wished to keep them secret. But my mind was racing, even before combat had started, and keeping track of my own thoughts was beyond me.


    Our vessel jostled¡ªnot from atmospheric turbulence, as we were in the void, but it must have been from some hiccup in our engines. Whatever the cause, it stirred me from my trance upon the Rosarius bequeathed to me, and I looked up, out of the visor of my power armor and into the monotone red glare of Lucene¡¯s Sabbat Pattern helm, as she sat across from me in our boarding torpedo. In silence, we stared at each other for a few moments, as still as statues, and then I put the Rosarius back under my armor and messaged her, +Do you want to talk?+


    Emotionally, her thoughts screamed Yes! but physically she instead turned her head side to side, the single visual evidence of life within her armor. Her ambient thoughts of selfless worry revealed her reluctance; she did not want to distract me so soon before our ultimate battle.


    +It will be alright. We have not spoken much, you and I, of this. Not since Mortoc.+


    Of this? Of what, death? she thought. I nodded. I do not ascribe my fate to the designs of a heretic. If either of us are to die here, it will not be because of Ouranos¡¯s whims.


    +I envy that inexorability, as ever you have possessed it. Lucene Flint, thank you.+


    I do not know what you are thanking me for, Cal, but you are most welcome.


    Our vessel jostled again. +For two centuries of your candor, compassion, and patience. You were there for me near the beginning of this journey, and you are there whenever the end hints at its imminence. You have always been there when I have needed you most. I am glad, and grateful, to have been your partner these many long and trying years.+


    May we see many more yet ahead, she thought in reply, and nodded to me. Cal¡­, she began, but her thoughts were drawn away by a mechanized, barely-intelligible warning over voxspeakers from our servitorized pilot that impact was imminent. When she pulled her gaze back to me, from having looked up at the vox unit above, she nodded to me and thought, You have inspired in ways you cannot fathom. Thank you, my friend, my partner, my love. It is time we do that which you are best at.


    +Dare I ask?+


    Nothing that is not flattering. Defending mankind from nightmares of its own making. It is a shame, Cal, that the greater Imperium not know of your legend, for it is just that, and would inspire trillions unto the pursuit of greatness, as you did for me, she explained, and to that, I had no response.


    That was just as well.


    [IMPACT IN FIVE¡­]


    [FOUR¡­]


    [THREE¡­]


    [BRACE]


    ***


    Like daggers, four boarding torpedoes plunged into side of The Finality in close proximity to one another, separated only by a dozen meters each. Such a distance was far closer than any Imperial recommendation would advise, and such recommendations as that were generous to begin with. But our proximity was a necessity, as the internals of The Finality did not need to play by physical rules¡ªso Ouranos had hinted¡ªand to drive one torpedo into its hull too far from the others could see it breach a mind-bending distance away on the inside of the Hulk. With greater proximity, Warp anomalies should be more localized, and our forces should be able to deploy alongside each other. Or, such was the working theory, anyway.


    I cannot say how deep our daggers drove into The Finality¡¯s hull, nor can I tell you what waited for them beyond their breaching bulkheads. What I can tell you was that there was a welcome party for us, but by the time we saw it, an array of Melta weapons mounted to the boarding torpedoes had turned our first foes to black ash and soot. Shortly thereafter, Santinus Astal and his squad of Red Hunters departed from one of the bulkheads, securing the immediate scene on their own, though there was nothing left for them to combat. When they had identified as such, our mortal troops¡ªmyself included¡ªdisembarked unto The Finality for the first time.


    While Silas, then some distance to my left and having emerged from a craft other than my own, shouted rallying calls to speed our troops from their landing craft, I took in the sights before us. I could not tell you what sort of vessel it was we had boarded, only that it was not Imperial; Space Hulks were an amalgam of dead voidcraft, mangled by the Warp into an incoherent labyrinth of twisted architectures. We found ourselves aboard a Xenos vessel of sleek and minimalist design¡ªAeldari, Necron, or some other minor species, I could not say. I was not one for exploring Xenotech. But the pitch-black and textureless walls around us, illuminated only by the lighting of our own equipment, were certainly not of Imperial origin.


    ¡°Orders, Inquisitor Blackgar?¡± Varnus asked of me after I spent a few moments sightseeing.


    ¡°Get the convoy formed. We venture deeper into this abominable vessel, emptying it of its inhabitants until we find our target,¡± I answered without turning to face him, my eyes taking to sliding along the slick, dark halls of our surroundings.


    My kind strikes from the shadow of doubt. A warning, unprovoked and uncalled for, from Cronos. While I did not even think to reply, its sudden voice in my head snapped my senses to greater focus, the aimless look of curiosity on my unseen face swiftly transfixing into a proper Inquisitive scowl within my power armor. Doubt was the heretic¡¯s domain; righteous surety that of the loyal. That is not quite what I meant, but it works for your purposes. I wished to ask what it cared, but I could not spare the time to entertain the beast, nor did I wish to rely on its insight to begin with. Even so, thoughts were the language of my tormentor, and it answered my wishes: Contrary to what you may believe, I am on your side here, Blackgar. You are my host, after all; I can¡¯t let you get yourself killed. Yet. That, I think, was at least a measure of honesty.


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    A low growl permeated the commotion of our boarding. It was metallic, not monstrous, and upon turning to source its origin, I identified it as the departure of one of our Leman Russ Exterminators from the bay that had held it on its boarding torpedo. The torpedo¡¯s landing gear seemed strained beneath the Exterminator¡¯s weight, hence the metallic growl; but it was the growl that was soon enough drowned out by the oscillating rumble of the tank¡¯s engines which, once situated on the hollow interior of the Space Hulk we were invading, sufficed to energize a rumbling within us infantry as well, from the soles of our feet to¡ªbless us and forgive the pun¡ªthe souls that carried us onward.


    Offloading all our troops and vehicles took ninety seconds, measured from the point of time at which Santinus Astal gave us the all-clear from the Red Hunters¡¯ initial deployment. It took another twenty seconds to get our convoy formed up properly. All said and done, just under two minutes to board The Finality, form ranks, and begin the breach & clear of the Space Hulk. One may think it courteous that Ouranos had not attacked us during that time, but even for all the sway he likely had over his vessel, it was of such a size that maneuvering forces around¡ªparticularly those unwilling, such as any Xenos lurking aboard¡ªwas likely a grand task for him.


    Our advance, likewise, was uninterrupted for a time, leaving us to stalk empty halls of uninspired blackness on our own, the wafting smell of Leman Russ emissions percolating through our toxicity filters. To be amidst such iron and smoke took me back; it was the regal smell of preeminent warfare, before everything inevitably fell away to piss, shit, and other viscera. War looked high and mighty until you found yourself in it, within which time there was nothing so sensually pleasing. In any event, our proud, dignified ranks got a few moments of the high life within the abyssal darkness before hearing the low whirr! of metal-on-metal grinding a few dozen meters ahead. It had been drowned out, at first, beneath the rumble of our convoy, but soon grew to be a high-pitched nuisance above the guttural growl of our motion.


    The convoy stopped, aware that whatever it was that lurked beyond was of an enemy force, and that we would soon come to blows with it. Our looming foe¡¯s identity dawned on me moments before we made visual contact by it cutting through a far-ahead wall; the nonsense and deranged utterances of lower-intellect Xenos filth I had once warred against in the Guard proved a nostalgic reminder of the fungal infection that plagued the stars. But the first thing to emerge from the stygian walls ahead was not green, as I anticipated, but red¡ªa crude bipedal contraption, like a stunted Knight devoid of any chivalric character. One of its arms carried a rudimentary rotary saw apparatus, while the other bore a pair of what were likely missiles loosely strapped to a Melta-array. Thankfully, none of these weapons were ever utilized against us, as the Demolisher of our convoy immediately punched a hole through the mechanized scrap that had emerged into the hall ahead of us.


    Incoherent shouting¡ªsome of it ours, most of it belonging to the newly-emergent tide of Greenskinned Xenos¡ªfollowed from there. Such as it had been on Pyrras-3, where this whole accursed story of ours began, when Cronos first showed its hand and took the 8<sup>th</sup> from me. Here we were again, at the end, with the 9<sup>th</sup> at odds with another Greenskin horde, and with Cronos lurking somewhere in the shadows of my mind. How poetic. Amidst the shouting were orders barked between Scions and ecclesiastical condemnations levied by Sisters. The techpriests operated silently, likely communicating through some means beyond me; the Red Hunters, too, coordinated in silence, speaking with each other through the headsets within their helmets. And yet the scene was a roar of gunfire and anger all the same. A pair of servitors were our first casualties, followed by a Scion. I knew not of her name, but some crude Xenos weapon blew her upper body to shreds not unlike a Bolter would have managed. She fell to the ground as a ravaged mass of blood, flesh, and shattered bone, and was momentarily alive before at last I felt the light of her life¡¯s existence fade to shadow. In the span of time I had had the thought to ease her passing, she had gone. Just the same, there was no time to administer Absalom¡¯s curative¡ªshe was truly lost to us all, then, as much of a tragedy as could be imagined.


    Schism, Cronos said as I fixated on the Scion¡¯s loss.


    What? I thought in reply.


    A Lesser Presence. In your tongue, it would be called a Schism. You fixate on that human¡¯s death, as others have. The anguish births a Schism. It will arrive momentarily.


    As if on cue, no sooner had I received Cronos¡¯s warning than the Scion¡¯s body lurched, as though erupting with newfound life. The corpse pitched upward and writhed amidst the remnants of its flesh, before at last its shattered skeleton splintered out from within. I am not ashamed to say I was awestruck¡ªfor all I had studied of the daemonic under Thaddeus Scayn, I had never seen or heard of a horror such as this, nor had I encountered something like it during the terrible crisis aboard The Atticus I had shared with Mirena. But what came of the mangled, fleshy corpse of the once-Scion rose as a mostly-humanoid abomination with an exoskeleton, pale bone stretched above and beyond the confines of its once-mortal host. Where the Scion had once had a head and a face, this creature instead had only an empty crown, a dark hole that seemed as though to swallow light itself for a face.


    I put a Bolt in its torso at once, and then another.


    It did not seem to care, nor did it care of the other Bolts that screamed into its form.


    However, before this ¡®Schism¡¯ could do anything to harm any of us, a techpriest swung down upon it with a power axe. Uh oh, Cronos muttered to me. Your warning is their undoing, it said as the axe lopped a boney arm from this beast before the techpriest came in for another swing upon the daemon¡¯s gut, white viscera spraying out from the arm wound.


    My warning?


    That melee weapons are better for killing my kind. Dearest Callant, you have never met my kind, Cronos explained as the axe buried itself in the Schism¡¯s gut. I did not know what it meant or what was to transpire, but I knew that without some form of intervention, the techpriest was undoubtedly in danger. So I shoved the techpriest away from the Schism with my psykana, but not quickly enough; nay, perhaps there was no such thing as ¡®quick enough.¡¯ The Schism was banished from the materium, but in its banishment, its maw, like a black hole, expanded rapidly, devouring the creature itself as well as the frontal half of the techpriest. What subsequently landed away from the yawn of reality in the Schism¡¯s wake was an amalgam of cybernetics loosely connected to stray patches of flesh.


    And then the question sets in. It came from her, that Scion, as you call her. It came from her body. What of the servitors? The thought, for you, came from me so you are not to blame. But their doubt, you see, that of those around you¡­I have warned you, my kind strikes from the shadow of doubt. Our Master is the God of Self-Destruction; you all will bring about your own apocalypse. You do not know how to avoid it; it is in your very natures. These are Beasts of Malice, Hideous be my Master¡¯s name.


    I spun on my heels to face the servitors that had fallen earlier just in time to see their torsos erupt. Two large, fleshy, spiderlike things emerged from their piles of carnage, ribcages molded into legs and bionic heads warped into avian horrors. They chittered and chattered curses unintelligible, and scurried out from their servitorized wombs amidst our ranks. As luck would have it, a Greenskin round blew one to smithereens before it could do anything, and a Red Hunter recognized the inherent danger of the daemonic and broke ranks from what had been Zha Trantos¡¯s order of battle to snuff out the other Beast with a well-placed Bolt. Each, upon their deaths, shattered into a spray of viscera like bombs, splattering the nearby scene. No one was hurt, but only by the Grace of the Emperor, and all who bore witness to the event were traumatized, myself surely included.


    A Schism and a Beast¡ªwhat are you then, Cronos? I thought to the daemon.


    In your tongue, I am an Exalted Arbiter of Enmity. A Greater Presence for my Master. And I am yours, to help you as you need, as you are mine to feast upon. And what a feast you are, Callant Blackgar.

 Chapter 112 - Nothing

    ¡°Blue Squadron, report,¡± Zha¡¯s voice crackled over vox. Hope had not left her tone, though desperation had begun to enter it.


    ¡°1<sup>st</sup> Blue Squadron, negative signs of life.¡±


    ¡°2<sup>nd</sup> Blue Squadron, negative signs of life.¡±


    ¡°3<sup>rd</sup> Blue Squadron, negative signs of life.¡±


    ¡°Gold Squadron, report,¡± Zha moved on, though the aftermath of a sigh was readily apparent in her voice. Silence followed. ¡°Gold Squadron?¡±


    ¡°Negative,¡± Mirena answered without further idents given, and jammed her vox communicator back into its port with a hint of fury. The negatives continued after her response all the same. Then, to herself, she whispered, ¡°Where are you, you bastard? And where are you, Cal?¡± With no answer being given, she then pitched her Fury downward, underneath an archway formed of a rusted amalgam of twisted metals, keeping her fightercraft near enough to The Finality that her deep-penetrating auspex scanners could view as far into the Hulk¡¯s hull as possible.


    It had been hours since I had left her side, hours since she had seen my boarding torpedoes puncture the Space Hulk, hours since she had known me to be alive. She, likewise, had flown around this vast and terrible voidcraft for hours in turn, and was even beginning to recognize landmarks, of a sort, among its exterior. Yet still, despite the stagnant nature of The Finality¡¯s hull, its innards kept signs of life ever-elusive, likely ever-changing as Ouranos had described.


    Damn you, Cal. Damn all this to hell, she thought to herself. Never again do you get to put yourself in the field without me at your side. You had damn well better live so I can smack some sense into you for once. Her thoughts were interrupted, minutes later, when Zha initiated another round of reports from the many squadrons of fighters sweeping up and down The Finality.


    Negative.


    ***


    Castecael had set up a triaging station on the bridge of the Coldbreed, where bodies¡ªcorpses and mangled survivors alike¡ªwere beginning to appear, teleported through some terrible witchcraft unto the vessel they once called home. All survivors required greater medicae equipment than could be provided on the bridge, but first aid and emergency services were provided with immediacy as Castecael navigated through the wounds of the fallen.


    Zha and Galen, meanwhile, had nothing more to do than merely watch.


    ¡°Is there nothing more than this?¡± Galen asked her, arms crossed and one foot tapping impatiently. The pale Pyrran did his best to keep his cool, but even so, it was plainly evident that he was on the verge of snapping.


    The same could be said of Zha. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she answered, voice flat and defeated, confessing to a weakness that she would not share over vox.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a savant? Isn¡¯t knowing your whole thing?¡± Galen grumbled.


    ¡°And so is he, this Throne-damned heretic, or so we are to believe,¡± Zha replied. ¡°To out-think a savant that has had hundreds if not thousands of years to plan for this day? You wanna try, Knight?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said.


    ¡°So am I,¡± Zha nodded, then thumbed a button on the panel before her and leaned in. ¡°Violet Squadron, report.¡± As the reports followed, Galen mouthed every ¡®negative¡¯ that was given, and Zha could not help but close her eyes and hang her head lower and lower. ¡°Damn The Dawnshadow,¡± Zha muttered when the reports concluded. ¡°Damn it all. Were it up to me, there would be ten-thousand Scions on that blasted Hulk, three thousand Sisters of Battle, and ten squads of Marines. Damn the politics and the neutrality, I would prefer to see Ouranos drowned out in lasfire and buried in Bolts. Maybe we¡¯d all die. But at least we¡¯d know that the bastard would too, instead of the ambiguity from this slow and bloody sacrifice Callant leads. But such does faith demand.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Galen grunted.


    ¡°Faith. Faith in the unknown and unknowable. Faith beyond my abilities, beyond Ouranos¡¯s. Faith that the righteous of the Throne Above can steel themselves to victory and live to tell about it,¡± Zha explained. ¡°We owe them our faith, if we can give them nothing else.¡±


    ¡°Well they have mine, if only because doubt is something I have never entertained, nor is Blackgar one to ever have instilled doubt otherwise,¡± Galen answered. ¡°Still, there is much more faith one can wield behind a Volcano Lance than without. I should be there.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you should be. As should I. That much I know for certain,¡± Zha said, then shook her head in exasperation. ¡°Callant lives his days with his mind set on the bigger picture, on the Eternal War, on winning the next battle. We will win it for him, he knows that. But what good is it for if we lose this one? Why should we not put our all into every fight, big or small, and triumph together, all as one or none at all?¡±


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    ¡°Well said,¡± Galen agreed, then reached down to tap Zha¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Another one,¡± he noted, getting Zha to look up again. Another survivor had appeared on the bridge of the Coldbreed, though this one looked barely wounded at all. They were, however, frantic and panicked, likely spared moments before a horrible demise. They, this Scion, pushed away from Castecael and reached onto their waist to brandish a knife between he and his attempted healers. ¡°Hey!¡± Galen barked, and rushed over to the scene to offer some muscle for Castecael to wield. ¡°You¡¯re safe now, Scion, stand down!¡±


    ¡°Safe? Nowhere is safe, not from those things! You could be them for all I know, this could be another trick, another room, another falsehood,¡± the Scion defended, flustered and traumatized. ¡°They looked human, at first, just like you. And then the claws, and the fangs¡­¡±


    Galen turned around toward Zha, who had also risen to the commotion. ¡°Have any idea what this kid experienced in there?¡±


    ¡°It was no daemon, not like the others we saw, it was alive, it bled, as humans do, but-but-but¡ª¡± the mania continued.


    ¡°A Genestealer, I suspect,¡± Zha sighed, and shook her head. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t expect you or anyone else to have heard of them, least of all a Scion. Allegedly not uncommon aboard Hulks, though who can say whether there has been a great enough sample size to make that claim,¡± Zha said and shrugged. ¡°Hey, Scion¡ªBlackgar alive in there?¡±


    The knife pointed Zha¡¯s way until Galen got in front of it, arms crossed, after which the Scion nodded. ¡°He¡­yes, he is. Was. Is. But the numbers, our numbers¡­we¡¯re dwindling fast. One of the Angels has fallen. It¡¯s so dark in there, so, so dark,¡± the Scion answered, and seemed for a moment to be giving up the aggression to his surroundings. Unfortunately, as the horror of The Finality set in upon the Scion, that aggression turned inward, and the knife pointed toward his own chest. Galen was upon the Scion before its edge pierced his armor, smacking the knife aside and tackling the Scion¡ªthen weak of will¡ªto the ground. Castecael and her attendants rushed in to assist, at last securing the Scion and applying much-needed aid.


    Galen returned to Zha¡¯s side when Castecael had successfully brought the Scion under her care. ¡°You¡¯ve saved a boy¡¯s life,¡± Zha noted.


    ¡°Blackgar did it first,¡± Galen brushed it off. ¡°And nothing I can do here will save our Inquisitor.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zha acknowledged, shaking her head and returning to her terminal. ¡°No, it won¡¯t. Violet Squadron, report.¡±


    Negative.


    Time rolled on. Minutes, hours more. No further survivors, nor corpses, emerged onto the deck of the Coldbreed. Nothing, a void, an abyss. They were the longest hours of Zha Trantos¡¯s life, and she had lost her own homeworld already. The silence stirred in her a hatred so pure its simmering managed to stir Galen and get him to shy away from her, in time. How many variations of the scenario was she running through her head? Not even she could tell you¡ªwasting mental effort to keep track of such trivialities could cost the lives of the ones she loved. But as the hours marched on, my savant considered every iota that could be conceived of pertaining to naval combat, from the expected lifetimes of our fleet¡¯s shields to the thermal output of our forward batteries on full blast to the kinetic yield of a fleet¡¯s worth of bombers, to suicide runs, piloted by servitors, from single fighters to entire capital ships plunged into the side of The Finality.


    Not a thing could guarantee Ouranos¡¯s demise nor my rescue. Yet still, Zha thought on, unwilling to accept an impossible situation, unwilling to believe that a solution could not be found. In the latter hours of her processing, she could hear it¡ªOuranos¡¯s voice, laughing over the voxcaster in the war room we had once shared together, taunting her, haunting her, ever beyond her means to reach out and rip out his vocal cords. And oh, how she wanted to.


    Instead, all she got was nothing. And nothing was all she felt she could do with it.


    She was my greatest success, and she knew it.


    And yet she was nothing in the face of Ouranos¡¯s might and planning. She felt small and insignificant. Because she was, we all were. This was the arena of gods, and we were but their chosen pawns. And no one particularly liked being a pawn except, it seemed, for Ouranos, who had already arrived at this conclusion and embraced it with open arms. So, she decided, must she. And from the nothing emerged a something.


    ¡°Contact!¡± shouted Captain Vakian across the bridge from Zha and Galen. ¡°We have one unidentified vessel emerging from Warp Translation opposite The Finality from us!¡±


    ¡°Show me,¡± Zha commanded, leaving her terminal to step up to a sensorium display. Galen joined her as the vessel was rendered in shades of dim green light before them.


    ¡°Imperial origin,¡± Galen asserted, to which Zha nodded. ¡°Where have they come from? And why are they here now? Benediction?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zha shook her head, a subtle but warm smile spreading across her lips. ¡°The brilliance of Callant Blackgar, unwilling, as ever, to fight fairly, for there is no honor in defeat. Hail them!¡± she shouted to Captain Vakian.


    ¡°You know who they are, I take it?¡± Galen suggested. Again, Zha nodded.


    ¡°I summoned them here, at his behest. If there is benediction at play, it is that they were willing to employ the very same means of travel we did to get here,¡± Zha said, then sighed. ¡°Now let us hope they are equally willing to come to our¡ªhis¡ªaid.¡±


    ¡°They are not Wolves, are they?¡± Galen asked, worried.


    ¡°No, their fangs and claws cut far deeper into the daemonic than mere wolves would,¡± Zha answered. ¡°Mayhap they might make even Ouranos quiver in fear, as they ought.¡±


    ¡°Vessel identified as Vengeance Unrelenting, but these callsigns¡­I do not recognize them,¡± Captain Vakian reported. ¡°They have accepted your hailing; patching you through, Inquisitor.¡±


    Zha reached for and pushed a button on the side of the sensorium display, making the vision of the newly-arrived vessel shift into the heavily-armored mug of the vessel¡¯s owner, adorned with countless Purity Seals and sacred regalia. ¡°Most merciful Emperor,¡± Galen muttered quietly, falling to his knees and committing himself to a silent prayer.


    ¡°This is Inquisitor Trantos aboard the Coldbreed to any and all Grey Knights aboard the Vengeance Unrelenting. Thank you for answering our call despite this dire and horrid nightmare we find ourselves sharing. I am afraid I cannot waste time with standard pleasantries, as a great and villainous foe separates us, and the Inquisition seeks your aid in vanquishing this servant of the archenemy. Will you rise to your calling, and answer?¡±


    ¡°This is Brother-Captain Mezentius of the Vengeance Unrelenting. Inquisitor Blackgar is aboard that profane vessel, is he not?¡± the Grey Knight Terminator asked of Zha. Zha¡¯s subtle smile widened, her hatred of Ouranos fueling her rekindled hope for my rescue.

 Chapter 113 - Grey

    Ms. Trantos,


    If you are reading this, I have either perished, or have gone for Ouranos''s vessel, leaving you in charge of all of my assets. Varnus, I assume, has given you this parchment, as I ensured I would not remember its existence, let alone its contents. You are the only one that can be trusted with what I write below, more than even I can be. So pay attention, and good luck.


    Cronos is a foe that sees and knows all that I do. What info we can allow me to be privy to is therefore more limited than what would ordinarily be expected of my charge as an Inquisitor. This message, then, was written in the vicinity of a Pariah, that Cronos could not see its contents as they were made, and then scrubbed from my memory by another Psyker, that Cronos could not see its contents in my history. With luck, it has been given to you without my knowledge. In the future, if I survive Ouranos, you may wish to conduct affairs with me in this manner likewise, if the possibility arises.


    Now, what I ask of you is this: Contact Brother-Captain Mezentius of the Grey Knights. You may first need to communicate with Inquisitor Lycia to get his vessel¡¯s security codifier. Astropathic communication is limited in this abhorrent darkness, but some information has found the means to come through. Press Lycia on how, or see if your strategy of Warp Travel has a viable means of translating to an Astropathic Choir. Either way, when Ouranos makes his move, I believe the Grey Knights can catch him off-guard. Likewise, though it is not what the Inquisition has wanted for me, Mezentius and his Brothers may be able to rid us of Cronos outright and cut this problem off at its source¡­though I doubt I would be likely to survive such an exorcism. Either way, the Grey Knights would be powerful allies in shining a light within this darkness, and Mezentius and I go back aways, as far back as Hestia Majoris. I trust him with my life, and to end it if need be, as I trust you in both regards.


    If by the grace of the Holy Throne I survive contact with Ouranos, you should also be aware of what my survival means. I have committed a cardinal sin and given in to the machinations of the archenemy. Chaos corrupts only the willing, and I willed. It was needed to save Mirena¡¯s life, which no Inquisitor should have done, and any decent Inquisitor would have executed for. However, while I may have given in to this notion as a whole, I do not believe Cronos has any interest in corrupting me. I think I am irrelevant, a vehicle to its ends and nothing more; when it has suffused itself of my psychic strength, I expect it intends to leave me behind, never to concern itself with me again¡ªits plans and aspirations exceed the tormenting of a single Inquisitor. So, whether I am truly touched by Chaos, I cannot say¡ªI do not believe Cronos requires me to be.


    All this is to caution you, Zha Trantos, to be careful, watchful, and mindful. Be wary of the thoughts in your head, as they may not always be your own. And depending on what emerges from the conflict with Ouranos, I advise you to lean toward logical and merciless, rather than giving in to the passions of the heart, as I have.


    Neither Cronos nor Ouranos can be allowed to succeed. You know this. Better to lose me than to lose everything. I made my peace with that long ago.


    Your friend,


    Callant Blackgar


    P.S. I recommend vaporizing this parchment after reading it ¨C it implicates you in having devised our means of Warp Travel to arrive at the Dawnshadow, something I took responsibility for in speaking with Lycia. If Lycia later deems this methodology heretical, I am happy to take the fall for it in your stead; you are too valuable to lose to pettiness such as that. So hide this evidence within the vast expanse of your mind, and nowhere else. Or don¡¯t¡ªmayhap you oughtn¡¯t take the advice of a corrupted Inquisitor such as myself.


    ***


    One could be forgiven for thinking that we were no longer on a voidship at all, but had instead made landfall. Such greenery and foliage were a most unexpected sight aboard a naval vessel, after all, but their origins were still very much Imperial, and explainable at that. It was quite likely a Rogue Trader¡¯s vessel that, some time ago, had been raided and destroyed, but its cargo hold had contained a fervent collection of flora that spread like wildfire in the leaky confines of a shattered ship. I suspected Catachan flora, if only for its size and aggressiveness, though Catachan had a monopoly on neither. Whatever its origins may have been, our advance eventually saw us fighting in a spread of jungle, which while unexpected, did little to deter our assault upon The Finality.


    In place of a sun, dim red light shone through the canopy above, our illumination provided by the much-decayed emergency lighting of an Imperial hall. In place of rain, coolant fluid and ventilation of pipes long burst, now drizzling their contents out in random spurts. How there was dirt for foliage to grow upon¡ªand mud with it¡ªI could not explain in the thick of battle, but it was there all the same, and the how mattered not. And while the smell was not what I would call pleasant, it was at least far from the horror that awaited newcomers in Abseradon.


    Yet the greatest mystery of this accidental-jungle of all was of its occupants¡ªsurvivors, likely, of the once-Rogue Trader¡¯s crew. Human, certainly, albeit the rabid spawn of a nonexistent society. If they had a language, or beliefs, or a culture, it was not ours¡ªand ultimately I think it unlikely they had anything more than a crude means of communicating with each other. But what they did have was guns, and the knowledge of how to use them was passed down upon them from their ancestors. That, frankly, may have been the least surprising fact; how else was this small human colony going to survive on a Chaos-aligned Space Hulk? Surely, a story was here that was unquestionably a bit intriguing; alas, as I and my allies were being shot at by the protagonists of that story, I was not much invested in figuring out all the details.


    Instead, I threw myself behind the enflamed carcass of one of our armored vehicles; I had not had the time to identify which one it was, nor did I know what had taken it out. Details and histories mattered little in battle¡ªall that I found myself focused on was surviving to the next fight, until that fight put me before Ouranos himself, in which case surviving mattered less than killing. I poked my head around the broken treads of the tank I hid behind, and immediately ducked back just before a flare of lasfire scorched my face, hidden behind power armor though it was. I then slid out, low, from behind the tank, shooting twice with my Condemnor in the rough direction of my assailant before tumbling forward, head over heel, and launching myself into an underbrush.


    After landing, I heard a callout from Silas, who was somewhere in the direction I had come from, past the tank. ¡°Incursion, six!¡± he shouted. Still hidden within the greenery of the jungle, I spun about to my left, which would have been behind Silas¡¯s position, and spotted another daemonic Schism, which I lit up with three Bolts. I was not alone in firing upon it, and enough simultaneous Bolterfire sufficed to bring the Schism down in a coordinated effort before it could do anything. As ever, in its being purged, it took a chunk of the materium with it, eating a human-sized sphere of jungle and voidship as it vanished from existence.


    Two bodies then landed next to me; one was missing an arm and a head, the other was clothed as a Callidus Assassin¡ªthe only one, I hoped, on this entire Throneforsaken ship. Before saying anything, Bliss put a hand on the collar of my power armor and tossed me over herself, sending me careening further away from the tank¡¯s direction, deeper into the foliage. I landed, hard, on my back, and meant to question what the hell she was doing as she subsequently jumped sideways over me, but the phosphoric explosion that then filled our previous residence answered that question suitably enough. We still said nothing to each other as I levied my Condemnor over her back and while she drew my Bolt Pistol from my side, each of us blowing a faraway assailant to smithereens.


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    ¡°I¡¯d like that back,¡± I grumbled as Bliss stood to her feet over me, helping me to my feet afterward. She still had my Bolt Pistol.


    ¡°Maybe if you say please,¡± she toyed, then pushed me away from her as soon as she had helped me to my feet. In the same motion, she leaned away from me, and a small blue bolt of plasma narrowly raced between us. In the next blink of an eye, Bliss took aim with my weapon and fired. Afterward, as we recomposed ourselves, she said, ¡°Here you go.¡± She then tossed my Bolt Pistol back. I never saw anyone die to her shot, but no further plasma launched our way.


    ¡°What is that, four, now?¡± I asked her. She grunted in response, unsure what I meant, so I clarified: ¡°The number of times you¡¯ve saved me.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I don¡¯t know, not keeping track. Just comes naturally,¡± she said with a shrug.


    I lost a moment of time marveling at her, amidst the chaos. She may have been, in that moment, more beautiful to me than I had ever known her, and I do not mean physically; I had seen her in her Callidus attire before, and while it of course accented her physical allure, it also obscured every charming feature of her face. But then, in that moment on Ouranos¡¯s accursed ship, I caught a vision of the hypothetical possibility Bliss and I had discussed in her quarters some years ago, that of the two of us slaying heretics together and enjoying it. Bliss was, presently, in her element, and despite the suffering and torment of the day, there was a degree of subconscious joy within her being¡ªit was not merely that she was killing the enemies of man, it was that she was killing the enemies of man with me. In that moment, I saw in her enshrouded form the scantily-clad woman that had saved me on Aerialon during the Phaenonite Affair, pressed up against my body as we shielded each other from lascannon fire. She enjoyed herself then, smiling widely during the whole of our prison break. I was confident she was smiling under her facemask now.


    I only had that one moment to contemplate this vision of Bliss, as in the next, the shooting resumed. Bliss and I took cover, shoulder to shoulder, against the wide trunk of a tree that had seen many decades¡ªor centuries¡ªof growth. Flame and laslight sailed overhead and around us, whooshing and whirring by. Still, this all did little to sour Bliss¡¯s mood. ¡°Should I stay here with you?¡± she shouted to me amidst the fury headed our way.


    ¡°As opposed to?¡± I shouted back.


    ¡°Doing what I do best!¡± she answered, and pointed toward the source of the gunfire.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let me keep you from where you excel!¡± I offered.


    ¡°What good is excellence without someone to share it with?¡± she returned, but seemed as though to prepare for a departure all the same, waiting for an opening amidst the onslaught. One never came, but not because our opponents were so successful. Instead, shortly after our back-and-forth, the red lights illuminating the scene nearby began to flicker, and the air around us seemed to converge upon a single point a few yards ahead of our view. Bliss and I had the same thought¡ªdaemonic incursion. While I readied my Condemnor to point toward what I expected to be an encroaching foe, Bliss adopted a more defensive approach, and half-shielded me with her own body, partially obscuring my view but not impairing the aim of my Bolter.


    The incursion was as far from daemonic as imaginable, however; a divine miracle of the Emperor rather than from false gods. What stepped out from the condensed convergence of light was no monster, but silvery towers of ceramite, adorned and inscribed with sacred wards. Five such monoliths strode forth, and immediately recognized and acquired friend from foe; from their wrists, then, burst out the Emperor¡¯s Judgment, and fury met fury.


    That fury which originated from behind us, which we were taking cover from, ended not long after. Each of the five observed Bliss and me for a moment, though three of the five then fanned out and spread through the jungle, each operating silently from our perspective albeit communicating either through their helmets¡¯ apparatuses or psychically. The other two, meanwhile, approached us¡ªBliss still partially shielding me behind herself. ¡°Which of you is the Inquisitor?¡± asked one of the Grey Knight Terminators, voice echoed mechanically.


    ¡°Technically both of us, but you probably mean him,¡± Bliss answered, yet still did not give up on my protection. I did not then understand why she felt the need to protect me from them.


    ¡°It has been some years, Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± the second of the pair addressed me. ¡°And yet you seem not to have aged much.¡±


    ¡°Funny story, that. Perhaps you¡¯ll sit in on another of my tall tales, Brother-Captain Mezentius,¡± I replied. I had only ever met one Grey Knight before; even within my time in Malleus, Thaddeus had never called upon their order. The only Grey Knight I ever met I had encountered in recounting my activity on Hestia Majoris during the Red Stain. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Inquisitor Trantos sent for us, along with a means of communicating during this abyssal darkness,¡± Mezentius said.


    ¡°How could she have known¡ª¡± I began, but Mezentius raised a hand and interrupted me.


    ¡°She said you¡¯d not remember, but that her instructions came from you,¡± Mezentius explained, which was unbearably confusing to me. Bliss, meanwhile, shirked away from me and from the Grey Knights at last, as though understanding something I did not. ¡°I know not the game you played to get us here, or why you¡¯ve forgotten it, but we are here now, and while we are here, we will force the enemies of the Emperor to know of us. Our question, then, is why are you here, Inquisitor Blackgar?¡±


    ¡°We are here to kill Ouranos, a foul heretic-savant somewhere aboard this vessel,¡± I answered. ¡°I should caution you, the daemons this heretic beckons to his call kill when they are killed in melee. I would advise keeping your distance from them, though you are surely better experts in this matter than I am.¡±


    ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar,¡± the first of the pair addressed me then. ¡°Brother-Captain Mezentius tells a tale most heroic of your actions on Hestia Majoris. I myself, and my brothers with me, need know¡ªis it true? Have you slain an Astartes with naught but your Rosette, and down an arm?¡±


    ¡°Heroism does not well describe my activity on that world, but yes, that is true enough,¡± I replied. ¡°Brother-Captain Mezentius is too generous.¡±


    ¡°Or Inquisitor Blackgar too humble,¡± Mezentius countered. ¡°As it seems age is not something that plagues you, Inquisitor Blackgar, I should remind you that there is a safe spot for you on Titan, if you need it. It would be our honor, not yours, to have the likes of you amidst our ranks.¡±


    ¡°And I should remind you of the peril that stalks my mind, and why that cannot be,¡± I replied. ¡°Again, too generous, Mezentius; appreciated though the offer is.¡±


    ¡°As you say. In any event, it is plain enough to see that there is a darkness upon this forsaken vessel; my brothers and I shall see it illuminated in the name of the Holy Throne, or cleansed of filth and destroyed otherwise. Let us accompany and defend you in pursuing this ¡®Ouranos,¡¯¡± Mezentius offered.


    ¡°I¡¯m not about to shy away from such potent reinforcement,¡± I agreed. ¡°Thank you for coming to our aid, Brother-Captain,¡± I said, and meant to stand, but did not get more than a couple inches off the ground before Bliss put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me onto my rear once more.


    ¡°We will join you shortly,¡± Bliss said, ¡°but I first need a word with Callant, while we have time to speak.¡± Mezentius and his brother looked to me, and after I shrugged and nodded, left our side to regroup with the rest of their squad. After that, Bliss climbed atop my lap, though judging by the rest of her body language, the action was far from romantic. She pitted her head against mine, completely filling my view with the crimson glare of her goggles, while pinning my back against the recently-scorched tree trunk behind us, hands on my shoulders.


    In the immediate, she said nothing, so I broke the silence. ¡°Am I supposed to be reading your mind at present, because yours is either scrambled or altogether empty whenever I try.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± she growled. ¡°You don¡¯t remember it, but you did summon them here. You wrote these instructions a fair few days ago, and had them purged from your mind, that Cronos could not know of them. And now I need to ask, Callant, do you intend to ask them to kill you to kill Cronos?¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t seem like a bad idea until you asked in that tone of voice,¡± I answered.


    To that, Bliss reached behind her head and pulled off her mask, temporarily revealing her distraught face to me. Again, she pressed her forehead against mine. ¡°You gave me the charge of handling Cronos. And I will, I promise you that I will. But with them¡­Callant, I know what they are. I know what they do. You don¡¯t survive them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s sort of the point.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s entirely the point, you asshole,¡± she sneered. ¡°For once in your damned life, Callant, please think about living. Please? I know that if it¡¯s between you and Cronos, the daemon has to die, no matter the cost. And I will see that through. But if there¡¯s a way for you to live too, let me find it. Please,¡± she insisted.


    I sighed, all-too intimately aware of her plight, then nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t have to explain the risks to you¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°¡ªbut fine, Bliss. You¡¯re the most potent person I know, so if such a path does exist, I know that you can find it. And if not, I know you can contain the situation despite the lapse of time that was lost in your searching. I will not ask Mezentius to destroy Cronos,¡± I answered. It then occurred to me that the daemon had been fairly silent in recent moments. Quite likely, I wagered, it did not wish for its psychic resonance to be picked up by the Grey Knights squad. Indeed, I believe I had encountered the first real source of fear for my daemonic tormentor. That it, in that moment, did not speak up to deny my suspicion reinforced that belief.


    Following my promise of self-preservation, Bliss kissed my faceplate where my lips would have been, and then donned her facemask again. She paused for a moment afterward, then threw herself over me, giving me a tight hug that likely imparted some strain on the integrity of my power armor, but then finally rose from my lap and stood up. I took the hand she offered to rise as well, and together we set out deeper into the jungle, onto whatever nightmare may have next lurked aboard The Finality.

 Chapter 114 - Cutoff

    If Ouranos was even a fraction as intimidated by the appearance of the Grey Knights as Cronos was, the heretic-savant did not show it. The assaults against us continued, albeit with heightened daemonic frequency, meeting Mezentius¡¯s squad head-on. For a time, I believed Mezentius and his brothers invincible.


    And then the first of them fell.


    To say that there was a morale shock to see an Angel of their caliber bleed and die would have been an understatement. Though in truth, we did not see their death; what had unfolded was far more sinister. Along our journey, and not unlike as transpired aboard The Atticus, a wall materialized into existence where previously it had not been, and in the process collapsed upon the right arm of one of Mezentius¡¯s brothers. The arm was lost immediately, and with a spray of quickly-coagulated blood, but as the Grey Knight recoiled from his disarmament, another wall appeared out of the ether, and sectioned him off from us altogether. His left arm was all that remained with us, his body hidden from view behind a menacing wall-grin not unlike that which had haunted Mirena. So yes, we did not get to see the Grey Knight die, but no amount of faith or zealotry could overcome the chilling understanding that Ouranos could make an armless heir of the Emperor his plaything, psychic or not.


    We were assaulted by daemons that might be better described as ghosts than monsters shortly thereafter, in the midst of the morale hit. Psychic apparitions, perhaps, but humanoid in form, rather than the inhuman beasts that had been cropping up otherwise; and these ghosts used armaments akin to those of the Lost and the Damned, wielding corrupted weapons once belonging to the Imperial Guard. It was a tossup as to whether a Bolt, despite its consecrations, could hit and ¡®kill¡¯¡ªbetter, perhaps, to say ¡®banish¡¯¡ªone of these ghosts, as often they popped out of view when one took aim at them to reappear a short distance to the side. But Holy Bolterfire, if it connected, did seem to banish this ghastly foe with reasonable success; the psykana of the remaining Grey Knights proved much more effective, though I was intimately familiar with their need to conserve their resources in that regard.


    Over time, as ammunition and calm dwindled, losses mounted. The attrition of our siege of The Finality was slow at first, but the loss of one of the Grey Knights seemed to shatter any hope for survival, and that cascaded into a self-fulfilling actuality. Two of our three remaining armored vehicles, at the time, succumbed to the ghostly assault, and the last fell to another attack from Genestealer hordes. By the time we had repelled our second encounter with Genestealers, two more Red Hunters fell, leaving us with two remaining, and one Grey Knight was wounded. Our infantry, likewise, fell to three Techpriests¡ªVarnus included¡ªfour Sisters¡ªLucene included¡ªand six Scions¡ªSilas included.


    I had had the time to ¡®save¡¯ perilously few.


    And then the ship turned against us further. While it did not lop limbs off from anyone else, it did begin to cordon off stragglers from the main group, surely killing them in isolation. I of course did not believe this ship operated of its own accord, and that instead this tactical butchery was Ouranos¡¯s doing. Oddly enough, though I quickly deduced why, as more and more of my allies were separated from me, the illumination of the vessel improved. One would have thought, at first, that darkness would creep in, but I soon understood that the darkness intended for me was not the visual sort. Ouranos wanted to ensure I would see the last of my allies be picked off. Dimly lit halls were far less destructive in that regard than plain view would have accomplished.


    To that end, the remaining Grey Knights, Mezentius included, were the first to be cordoned off from our group¡ªa quick and admittedly capable response from our enemy in handling the larger threat. I took solace, however, in the fact that separated from us or not, they would not be so easily felled. But once gone, Cronos began to ¡®speak¡¯ up again, indeed confirming¡ªif not directly¡ªthat it was afraid of Mezentius and his Brothers. Let me help, Blackgar. I can save what¡¯s left.


    Save what¡¯s left for yourself, you mean? I thought in reply.


    Bah! Details, it chided, a hint of playfulness in its voice, as though my accusation was not its original intent but it decided to go along with my claim regardless. It nevertheless took another break from me after I had denied its aid once more. I knew that would only be temporary.


    ***


    I am in the mortar-peppered fields outside Abseradon. A haze clouds my mind, albeit not from any malevolent specter; no, this murkiness comes from within, as indecisiveness bubbles up from the depths of shellshock. At first, I am in cover alone, and then Lucene joins me by my side, providing suppressive fire to lessen the onslaught heading our way in the immediate.


    I am in the catacombs under Aerialon, in their vast darkness. Some distance ahead of me, Silas shouts a command to target an enemy outside my vision. Bolterfire races overhead, matched by lasfire in the opposite direction. A lasrifle catches Silas in the side of his neck, silencing him at once, and sending one final Bolt wide. It sails across the battlefield and strikes a mainline gas pipe.


    Fire erupts.


    I am on Amnes Minoris. The steamlike hiss of a gaseous explosion pierces through my ears. Shrapnel flies out from the walls, as though the world is punched apart from within. A blunt shard catches Varnus across his face. A slender but razorlike fragment pierces into Bliss¡¯s gut. Both fall onto their backs, knocked away from the explosion. Lucene shields me from it, her power armor peppered by debris at her back.


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    I am aboard the shattered deck of the Coldbreed. I am surrounded by the dead and dying and enemies abound. Our final Angels, the Red Hunters, laid motionless some meters past, slain to the man. This is my inevitable fate¡ªto lead a charge into self-destructive melee combat and slay the 8<sup>th</sup> to the man, or to be too weak to act and watch as the 9<sup>th</sup> bleeds out in front of me. Had we all the time in the world, I might sit and wonder if I was a fool to think the pleasantries of life might continue ad infinitum¡ªthe fun, the play, the romance, the brotherhood. There is not any of that in the end. There is just death. And death is never so pretty. But there was not all the time in the world to think about that. In another second or two, our enemies would encroach upon us all, and finish off whoever remained, and¡ª


    Lucene moved to my right, not terribly injured by the explosion, if at all. My gaze met hers, and expressionless though our helmets were, and without reading her mind, I knew what she was thinking. She knew, as I did, that we two were the only ones that would be allowed to survive this battle. That Ouranos was saving her for last, to best twist the knife deep. That this was always our enemies¡¯ plan.


    ¡°Ouranos,¡± I muttered, barely more than a whisper¡ªso quietly, Lucene may not have heard me. ¡°Let me spare them.¡±


    +Be quick about it. No tricks,+ came the reply, and a murky black and white oval portal began to materialize between our fallen allies, in some moments like a soupy liquid, at others like wisps of smoke. I knew what I had to do to get my friends out of this hell. And Lucene knew, too, and knew that the charge of my safety would remain with her, as I would be unable to protect myself, that my thoughts were no longer going to remain constrained within my own flesh and blood.


    I had never wared a Techpriest before. I knew Varnus¡¯s mind to be cold and calculative, as I had sensed of it in our travels together, but upon stepping into his thoughts then, I found it the deathly sort of cold and empty. He was not dead, not yet, but it would take more than the cybernetics on his body to return him to life. This, however, made him the perfect target for waring, as though reanimating a corpse. Never mind the fact that I needed his mechadendrites. Thankfully, controlling them through Varnus¡¯s mind came naturally to me; perhaps it was because I had ample experience controlling my own augmetic, or because I had witnessed the control of a Knight through Galen¡¯s eyes, or because I had once seen all there was to see inside the mind of the long-dead Heretek Holicar Espirov. Whatever the source of my ability to use Varnus¡¯s augmetics, I could.


    The Techpriest rose to his feet, aided by the appendages grafted into his spine, with green light shining from one cracked glass eye, and blue lightning sizzling out of the other. Moving Varnus about was a simple task. Plucking Silas off the ground was simple too, as my brother-like Scion was unconscious. A single mechadendrite sufficed to lift him into the air and hold him safely. But Bliss¡­


    Bliss was still conscious, clutching at the borders of a bloody wound with a piece of shrapnel emerging from her gut. Varnus moved over her and assessed her status. The Techpriest¡¯s diagnostic apparatus informed him of the proper course of action to maximize biological preservation while short on proper medicae equipment. One mechadendrite gripped the shrapnel at just the right angle, and pulled it cleanly from Bliss¡¯s wound. As Bliss screamed in pain, another mechadendrite sprayed disinfectant over the gash in her belly, then clamped down over the wound entirely. Its palm then sutured her flesh up as best it could before finally releasing Bliss to her own devices. That was short-lived, however, before one final appendage grabbed hold of one of Bliss¡¯s ankles and hoisted her into the air.


    ¡°Wha¡ªVarnus! Put me down!¡± Bliss protested, and then she saw his eyes, and fear swelled over her face. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she hissed, glancing around the room, and seeing Lucene standing over my slumped form while enemies all around us stood patiently, watching, waiting. Abdominal wound or not, Bliss tucked herself head over heel and ripped apart the mechadendrite holding her leg, letting her fall back to the ground.


    Bliss shot toward me quick as she could, but a psychic blast pulsed out from my body, knocking even my genetically-enhanced Assassinorum Agent back. In the meantime, Varnus tossed Silas¡¯s body through the portal Ouranos had conjured before turning back for Bliss. As she landed, two more mechadendrites clutched at her legs, tripping her up before she could run toward me again. So she dug her fingers into the steel at her front, clawing at the hull between us. ¡°Callant, you asshole, stop this! Lucene, stop him!¡± she plead.


    ¡°Goodbye, Bliss Carmichael,¡± Lucene answered with a shake of her head. ¡°Thank you for all you¡¯ve done for us. For him.¡± Not getting anywhere with pulling against the strength of her fingers laterally, Varnus¡¯s mechanical appendages again chose to lift her vertically, pulling her into the air and her hands out from the ground.


    ¡°No!¡± Bliss shrieked as she sailed into the air, arms swinging wildly to grasp at anything, fighting to stay with us. But there was nothing to hold on to. ¡°Calla¡ª¡± she howled, but never finished saying my name before Varnus at last threw her through the portal. His exit, finally, was far less eventful, as I walked my dear friend out of hell.


    The moment Varnus vanished, and the portal closed, all the foes surrounding us faded away. I was certain we would see them again, and very soon at that, but Ouranos saw fit to give Lucene and I one final reprieve. When I opened my eyes again, Lucene thanked me. ¡°What for?¡± I grunted, gingerly standing to my feet. She aided me in that endeavor, as she aided me in all things.


    ¡°For not trying to save me,¡± she answered.


    ¡°Neither you or Ouranos would have allowed that,¡± I said, to which she nodded.


    ¡°All the same, a lesser man would have tried. But not you,¡± Lucene acknowledged, then shaking her head. ¡°How¡¯s your ammunition situation?¡±


    ¡°I have¡­a few shots left. Then it falls to swordplay,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Likewise. And thankfully, we¡¯re both good at that.¡± With one hand, she raised her Boltrifle to her right side, and extended her left hand palm-up toward me. ¡°It is good to die for the Emperor. Equally so to die by your side. Shall we go, then?¡±


    ¡°It would have been good to live by your side, and for the Emperor, too,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Cal, we have done that already. Living. Perhaps it is time we try the other thing.¡±


    After one long, deep breath, I nodded in agreement, and took her hand in mine while looking off into the empty darkness ahead. ¡°Yes, let us go, then, for the Emperor. And let us bring a thousand of His enemies with us.¡±


    ¡°Each.¡±

 Chapter 115 - Exterminatus

    For someone with no psykanic ability, Zha knew what was going to transpire the moment she saw Silas¡¯s limp body flop onto the deck of the Coldbreed. When, a few moments later, Bliss landed likewise¡ªalbeit with more vim and vigor¡ªher horrifying certainty was vindicated. Subconsciously, and uncaringly, her mind traced the paths that Silas and Bliss¡¯s body had taken and concluded they could only have been so-propelled by an augmetic with some reach. It therefore did not surprise her when Varnus walked himself onto the Coldbreed before collapsing outright as well.


    No one followed. Which, given the final syllable of the name Bliss had shouted upon her appearance, also did not surprise Zha. With one final, long sigh accompanied by closed eyes, she knew everything that had happened, and that would happen, and that she needed to do. When her eyes opened, she looked to Captain Vakian¡ªwho by then was looking at her likewise¡ªand mouthed a single word. Killing Ouranos is the only thing that matters here, my words echoed in her head, as Scayn¡¯s often did in mine. ¡°Out-think him,¡± Zha muttered aloud in response, unintentionally.


    ¡°Hm?¡± Galen grunted to her right, arms crossed. Zha shook her head dismissively.


    Across the deck, meanwhile, Vakian gave Zha¡¯s order. ¡°This is a fleetwide broadcast from Captain Caleb Vakian. All vessels, you have had orders to prepare for Two-Stage Cyclonic Bombardment, on order of the Holy Ordos. Commence launch protocols, L-minus one million cycles, mark,¡± he said, addressing the fleet.


    ¡°Mark,¡± a servitor confirmed a short distance to Vakian¡¯s right. A handful of other ¡®mark¡¯s came through the vox channel as well.


    ¡°By order of the Holy Ordos and decree of His Divinity, engage Exterminatus. Recall all fighters. All nonessential power couplings routed to defensive matrices. Hold fast. May the Emperor bless your aim. Ave Imperator!¡± Vakian ordered, and in the same motion that he terminated his vox communication, he grasped a servoskull embedded in his operating terminal and thumbed a keypad on its side.


    As blast shields raised over the viewports of the deck, and as sirens blared in warning of the world-shattering missiles about to be launched into the void beyond, Galen again turned to Zha. ¡°One million cycles?¡± he asked.


    ¡°About ninety minutes,¡± she said in a singular, pained hiss of breath. ¡°If Blackgar can buy us that, then we shall have our victory today, howsoever terribly Pyrrhic in nature.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s stared down impossible odds before; he can still make it out of¡ª¡± Galen suggested, but Zha cut him off. Was his hope genuine, or just trying to be supportive of his Inquisitor¡¯s decision? She did not know, but Galen¡¯s motives were the last thing on her mind.


    ¡°No, he can¡¯t. The odds¡­are not survivable,¡± she shook her head. ¡°That is the whole point of an Exterminatus.¡±


    ¡°What are those odds?¡± Galen asked. ¡°For he and for Ouranos, do you think?¡±


    ¡°Blackgar will not leave until Ouranos is dead. And I believe there is no more precarious spot to be in in all the galaxy than to be Blackgar¡¯s enemy. So, with confidence, I can assert Ouranos¡¯s odds of survival to be 0%, unambiguous. This is not optimism¡ªI believe our foe intends to die. The manner of how, and of when, is what we must deny them,¡± Zha explained, standing upright next to Galen for the first time in several dreadful hours. ¡°But Cal¡¯s survival¡­within ninety minutes, to find a foe that is as near omnipotent in its lair, and slay the beast, and find some means of departing from this hideous labyrinth? The odds of this are¡­infinitesimal. Nonzero, certainly, but¡­lower than I can put to words with any accuracy.¡±


    Galen had no response, his suspicions put to verbal clarity with the definitive confidence of a savant. In his stead, Zha offered, ¡°Let us join our allies in the medicae. There is nothing more for us upon this bridge today; once begun, the Exterminatus cannot be disengaged. Mirena is soon to arrive, and I suspect she will want my head,¡± Zha noted, and followed after the Silas/Bliss/Varnus trio as they were wheeled off the bridge. ¡°She may be right to have it.¡±


    L-962,960


    ***


    Zha was not sure what she expected to occur once in the medicae proper. Actually, she thought to herself, that isn¡¯t true. No, she knew exactly what she would find: an argument. And lo and behold¡­


    ¡°Hurry up already!¡± Bliss shouted at Castecael, who was re-stitching an abdomen torn in the process of struggling against an unconscious Techpriest.


    ¡°There is no accelerating medicine,¡± Castecael said, focused wholly on her work and not caring for her subject¡¯s impatience. Then, under her breath she grumbled, ¡°Something Cal never accepted for himself either.¡±


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    ¡°Got somewhere to be?¡± Zha asked as she and Galen stepped deeper into the room of the injured and dying. Bliss looked to her, and Zha¡¯s eyebrows furrowed. The savant was having no success pinning down which of Bliss¡¯s two emotions¡ªrage and sorrow¡ªwere currently dominant on her face.


    ¡°Yeah, the Finality. Start preparing another transport for¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Bliss,¡± Zha shook her head. Rage, then, flicked into dominance on Bliss¡¯s face, but it faded over time.


    ¡°He needs me,¡± Bliss whimpered. That¡¯s what she said. But Zha understood the more personal, unspoken truth to Bliss¡¯s words: I need him.


    The thought occurred to Zha that in an emotional time like this, logical arguments would hold less sway over powerful sentiments like sorrow. Even so, Zha, on a compulsion, began to point out the flaws in Bliss¡¯s suggestion. ¡°It would take too long to put you back aboard Ouranos¡¯s vessel, and we both know the heretic would never allow you to rejoin Mr. Blackgar. You would die to the Exterminatus before ever managing to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Trantos,¡± Galen interrupted her. She turned and looked to him, to which he shook his head. ¡°Shut up.¡±


    Zha sat with that response for a moment, she not the least bit offended by Galen¡¯s comment, and then nodded in agreement. ¡°Right.¡± She then stepped aside for the time being, excusing herself from a scene which she had not contributed positively to. Instead, she took up a position next to Silas, who, while conscious, could not presently speak. An oxygen mask was affixed to his face, and a collar hid his neck from view, keeping it stable. Zha put one of her hands in his. Silas squeezed. Tightly. His cheeks were already wettened before Zha had reached him. As ever, she did not need to be psychic to know that the Scion plagued himself with thoughts of his own failure.


    ¡°We¡¯re killing him,¡± Bliss muttered after settling from Zha¡¯s words.


    ¡°We¡¯re killing Ouranos,¡± Zha corrected.


    That time, it was Castecael¡¯s turn, and the group¡¯s medicae looked up to stare at my prot¨¦g¨¦. ¡°This is wrong, Zha. You have to know that.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Zha agreed. ¡°But it¡¯s the least-wrong option available to us. He knows that too.¡±


    It was then that Zha heard a familiar cadence of footsteps beyond the medicae. She stepped away from Silas to intercept their eventual entry. For Zha, the question was not whether Mirena would try to hit her, but with which arm. This was a question she still could not discern an answer to when Mirena finally entered the room, though Zha did note the furious bloodlust in Mirena¡¯s eyes. When Mirena reared her augmetic back, Zha wasted only one moment of thought on wondering whether she should try to deflect the blow or otherwise dodge it, but swiftly deduced that it was too late to do so. Instead, as the flesh-and-metal fist careened ahead, Zha made more comprehensive notes to herself about the competency with which the attack was thrown out; clearly, Mirena had been making good on centuries of training. The final analytical thought to flick through Zha¡¯s head before impact was, Well, isn¡¯t this a bit of self-indulgent masochism?


    Following the strike, Zha hit the floor with a splash of blood and spittle, and Mirena was restrained by Galen, Castecael, and the medicae staff. Silas was not fit to hold Mirena back even if he wanted to, and Bliss showed no signs of wanting to. ¡°How could you!¡± Mirena shrieked, reaching out with tooth and claw for Zha, who was still dazed from the former¡¯s blow. ¡°How could you do this to him?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what he wanted,¡± Zha answered, maintaining relative composure despite the chaos around her.


    ¡°You two!¡± Galen barked to a pair of guardsmen that joined the fray in holding Mirena back. ¡°Take her to the brig, pronto!¡±


    ¡°Belay that order,¡± Zha commanded, still on the ground, and in the process created a moment of calm within the tumult. Even Mirena hesitated to continue her fury toward Zha, though for the time being was still interdicted by Galen and Castecael. Despite her better judgment, Zha rose to her feet amid the moment of peace, and stumbled to maintain her balance in the process. ¡°Our war has not ended just because Callant Blackgar is dying,¡± Zha declared, and Mirena¡¯s fists re-curled themselves at once. ¡°Our battles yet continue. He knows this. And he also knows we are at our weakest when alone. Give him the dignity of choosing his own end. Give Lucene that same dignity likewise. And when we kill every enemy mankind shall know henceforth, let us kill in memory of them.¡±


    ¡°A rousing speech,¡± Bliss said dryly. ¡°You should learn to make those before a fight, not after one, unless you intend to eat another fist-sandwich.¡±


    Zha paid her no mind. Instead, her eyes were locked with Mirena¡¯s. Bloodlust still filled the eyes of the latter, while blood literally began to leak into those of the former. Yet what Mirena said next bludgeoned her far more terribly than any fist could have managed. ¡°They loved you like a daughter, Trantos,¡± Mirena hissed. ¡°And you¡¯re killing them. They¡¯re your family, more than they are of anyone else here, and you¡¯re killing them.¡±


    As a bloody tear fell from Zha¡¯s left eye, she braced battered teeth between busted lips and answered, ¡°Don¡¯t mistake me or them for an agent of the archenemy, Law, because that¡¯s who I¡¯m killing today. They understand that no amount of collateral is too great for that, that the ends always justify the means, as do I. Chaos cannot win. And I will never allow it to, just as Callant and Lucene wouldn¡¯t. And if by some miracle either of them completes the mission and manage to return to us before I¡¯ve struck my blow, trust, Law, that none of you will be even a shred as happy as I will be.¡±


    Zha then paused a moment to consider the possibility of the impossibility she had just described. After that moment, she added, ¡°And if by that same miracle we see them again, take note of this rage you feel now, and channel it into your loyalty to them, as they are deserving of your best, whereas Chaos can only hold a candle to us in our worst.¡± She then turned to Bliss. ¡°There¡¯s your speech,¡± she said, and in the next blink fell sideways against Silas¡¯s medicae unit, fighting to retain consciousness. Castecael abandoned Mirena, then subdued, to tend to the Inquisitor, who, according to the Inquisitor¡¯s own insistence, was suddenly and inexplicably concussed. None of my Agents, Zha would later claim, were responsible for that.


    Mirena, meanwhile, ceased resisting against Galen¡¯s grasp, and when his arms dropped away from her, she fell to her knees and wept. Silas could do nothing but silently watch as the team his brother had built crumpled apart before his eyes, and Bliss interpreted the scene as being a product of her own failure, guilt-ridden.


    L-740,738

 Chapter 116 - Annihilation I

    As far as I knew, the brass doors were infinite in size, implausible as that seemed. They rose far into the darkness above, and stretched wide into the depths of The Finality beyond our sight. That we came upon the vault-like entryway at the crease between them was no divine benediction, I knew¡ªno, it was Ouranos¡¯s foul guidance that led us to the point at which the double doors could split. If there was ever any doubt of that, such uncertainty was sent careening aside by Ouranos¡¯s voice over an unseen voxcom. ¡°Welcome, Blackgar. The passage shall open before you only with the Sister¡¯s dying breath,¡± the heretic¡¯s voice beckoned to me, ignoring Lucene¡¯s personhood entirely.


    This dehumanization, of course, did not sit well with Lucene, who reacted to Ouranos¡¯s greeting in an outcry that, I suspect, was a long time coming. ¡°The Sister?¡± she muttered at first, quoting our foe. Then, with fists curled around her weapons, she shouted up at the wall of brass before us, ¡°I am Lucene Flint, Daughter of the Emperor! I am no object to weaponize against the Throne¡¯s faithful like Callant Blackgar, I am the blade that strikes their bestial foes down, and the shield that wards them from your heretical depravity!¡±


    I anticipated silence from Ouranos, that he might continue not to acknowledge Lucene as anything more than being the path to my heart. I think that would have pissed her off the most. But I misjudged him, and he did instead bring himself to reply, even if dismissively. ¡°You are a means to an end, o¡¯ daughter-of-a-corpse. Blackgar¡¯s end, specifically, and with him so much more. You are a pawn; a footnote in history that will only be used to acknowledge the process through which your Imperium died.¡±


    What was I, I wondered then, in this contest of metaphor? An observer? I knew for centuries now that Ouranos¡¯s ploy was to have me bear witness to Lucene¡¯s murder. I also deduced that my witnessing of such an event would be used to bring Cronos out into the materium. Yet if I was merely an outside observer to and vessel of these inevitabilities, was I not also a means to an end? If that were true, why would Ouranos acknowledge me with some measure of humanity, and not Lucene?


    You are the Decider, the daemon answered, its voice feeling closer than ever before, as though speaking to me from just over my shoulder. I will admit, in my shock I glanced behind me, in the voice¡¯s direction, though saw nothing but the darkness from which Lucene and I had arrived at this locale. Yet I had come to realize that darkness was the essence of Cronos, and perhaps I looked upon the daemon then. You are the one to choose when and how everything ends, Blackgar. You think you have no agency, here, but you have all of it. We gave it to you, because we believed in the power of your choice. So choose well, as you have thus far.


    This internal debate transpired over a mere moment, caught between the conversation between Lucene and Ouranos. ¡°Then come and put an end to this footnote, heretic!¡± Lucene said, still shouting up into the abyssal heavens above. ¡°Or will you hide behind massed legions of your damned minions yet, too cowardly to face me yourself? And if that, then rest assured, fiend, that I will not leave you with the forces required to defend yourself from the God-Emperor¡¯s Wrath! Live or die, your influence in the galaxy ends here, at my hands!¡± She then looked to me, over her shoulder, and I nodded to her. ¡°Bring it on, and know that the passage you hide within will rust and rot away before our fury does!¡±


    ¡°I suspect your fury shall begin rotting away very soon, but as you wish,¡± Ouranos replied, and audibly snapped his fingers over his vox channel. Before even registering the opposition around us, I readied my Condemnor ahead of my view, and stood back-to-back with Lucene as she prepared herself likewise. The darkness all around us began to coalesce into some as-yet unknown horde, but before it had settled upon itself, I fired the first of many Bolts to follow.


    L-387,588


    ~35 Minutes to Launch


    Our initial assailants were daemonic in nature, and while still something we had to adjust to fighting, we had encountered these sorts several times in our siege of The Finality thus far. Still, I messaged a strategy to Lucene. +If you must get in close, do so by my side. These beasts lash out in death, but they will not risk killing me first, or at all.+


    ¡°Affirmative,¡± Lucene answered over our private vox channel, sent between our power armor. There was no time for further chitchat. While these daemonic foes possessed no ranged weaponry, and were¡ªcompared to the various Xenos we had encountered¡ªslow and bulky, they were resilient and numerous enough to press ever closer to us. My first Bolt met its mark, but sufficed only to blow a hole into marrow-colored chitin. My second Bolt did the same elsewhere on the same target, and only the third burrowed deep enough to rend apart the Schism, as Cronos had called it, blasting an arm and a shoulder off. It collapsed upon itself in its death, as they all had, taking some of reality with it. My helmet¡¯s targeting apparatus recognized that we were being charged by these slow, lumbering foes, and therefore knew to prioritize those that were nearest or making the largest strides. So in an instant, I turned to the next and opened fire.


    L-386,002


    My next target had been a Beast of Malice, as Cronos had called it, those bird-skulls with spiderlike legs that skittered across the ground. They were not quite as resilient, and this one died to a single Bolt, but as with them all, it exploded into a hail of boney splinters when it met its end. I had already acquired my next target when this hail neared me, but they deflected harmlessly off the Conversion Field of my Rosarius, creating a brief¡ªand unfortunately distracting¡ªdisplay of light in the process. This light stayed my shot a moment, but only that, and then I returned to firing upon what Cronos had identified as being a ¡®Hunger.¡¯


    L-384,473


    The Hungers were lumbering rat-creatures, human-sized but covered in fur and with a coiled tail. Unlike typical vermin, and like the Beasts of Malice, this being bore a skull that did not befit the rest of its body; these were possessed of a goat-like crown, complete with rudimentary, budding horns. The most distinguishing, and disturbing, note one could make of the Hunger were that they could speak in the Low Gothic. A bastardized version of it, granted, but they chittered and chattered of starvation and self-decay. It seemed a miserable existence, one I was happy to rectify.


    My first Bolt blew open this Hunger¡¯s stomach, black and white guts spewing out upon the ground. I at first thought that would have been sufficient to send the daemon back where it came from, as it fell and coiled up upon its lost innards, so I whipped my aim to another Schism. But the Hunger, nearer to me than the Schism, muttered on about a ¡®Black Hunger¡¯ even without its bowels intact, so I flicked my aim to its head and blew it apart. That sufficed to shut it up. Hungers exploded into a slop of seeping flesh far greater than their bodies would hint at possessing, and I knew not what nightmares one might endure to come in contact with such flesh. I did not wish to find out. Thankfully, when the Schism near to this fleshy eruption died a few Bolts later, it took much of the Hunger¡¯s remains with it.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    L-381,914


    With only thirty Bolts to my Condemnor¡¯s magazine, the foes that could be safely killed at range numbered unfortunately few. They may have been a bit slow of pace, but not so much so as to afford me an opportunity to reload and continue firing upon them. I reloaded all the same, because the last thing I wanted was to die with ammo still on my person, but the time to shoot at our enemies from afar had come and gone. Any further shots would need to be taken in close proximity, and a Condemnor¡ªsanctified bayonet or not¡ªwas no suitable melee weapon.


    So, with my rifle reloaded, I hitched it backward up my augmetic arm, ¡®storing¡¯ it for easy access later. Varnus had weaponized me well, and I was grateful for it. In the meantime, I drew Drepane with my biological hand, and held it at the ready to meet the first of my foes.


    Or so I thought.


    L-378,883


    But a Schism had already reached Lucene. Two, in fact. While her Eviscerator held one at bay, another came from her left and sought to impale her through the long of her gut. I threw myself to intercept the blow, knocking the Schism¡¯s blade-like arm aside against the shield of my Rosarius, and drawing Lucene¡¯s attention from the ensuing flash of light. In the same motion of my movement, I spun on my feet and whisked Drepane through the neck of the Schism Lucene was wrestling against, while in the meantime she turned and heel-kicked the recently-deflected Schism further away from us.


    As I suspected, the Schism I had decapitated did not erupt into an all-swallowing hole in reality, as doing so would have killed me on the spot. They were affording me some measure of immunity, and I was damned sure going to exploit that. Instead, the Schism faded away in an unassuming blur of particulates, troubling us no more. The other one, meanwhile, ate two Bolts to its upper torso, Lucene having dropped her Eviscerator to the ground momentarily to fire upon the daemon from a greater range. It, too, did not devour me in its death.


    Lucene and I wasted a moment looking into each other¡¯s expressionless helmets, but we did only that to acknowledge each other. No nodding, no gesture of thanks, nothing. In the next instant, Lucene stepped up to me and aimed her Boltrifle past me, while I likewise spun my Condemnor back into my grip. We fired in unison upon opposite foes before meeting them both head-on in melee once again.


    L-376,477


    ~34 Minutes to Launch


    For two centuries, I had fought against Lucene¡¯s mind and body in contest and in combat. I knew her fighting abilities inside and out, and she knew mine likewise. There wasn¡¯t an iota of ambiguity or uncertainty between us; if we found ourselves fighting something that could be killed, we killed it, decisively and without error.


    At the beginning of our final stand, I was taking count of the foes we had slain. I cannot tell you why, exactly. Perhaps I wanted to die knowing how many I had brought with me. But I stopped counting in the thirties. However, Ouranos¡¯s hordes appeared to have been without end. It had taken less than two minutes for us to fell our thirty-something foes. Lucene and I fought against the dark without rest for the better part of half an hour, and our pace of combat only ever accelerated, never deteriorated.


    How many could it have been, then? Zha would have been able to know. How many times had I crashed Drepane through the pale exoskeleton of a Schism? How many Hungers had I fed to a fill with my fury? How many savage Beasts had I put down? And Lucene had matched everything I could, or bested me even then, as ever she had. How many heresies slain in the deep dark beyond, then? The math would tell you hundreds, and I would not argue with such a figure, though I might tell you it does not matter. What matters is that there were more than hundreds. What matters is that there were enough to nick and gnaw at Lucene¡¯s armor. What matters is that I caught enough blows with my Rosarius for its Conversion Field to begin to waver.


    What matters is the Schism whose arm sailed through a weakened Conversion Field to Impale my wife back to front.


    Choose, Blackgar, Cronos said as I witnessed the splash of red blood erupt in our arena of empty darkness. It¡¯s time to choose.


    I slashed Drepane through the Schism¡¯s arm, but the Schism was not there anymore. It vanished, as did the darkness itself, and all the daemons with it. As Lucene fell to the ground, and as I fell with her, our arena illuminated at last, revealing an empty hall before two vast, brass doors.


    I rolled Lucene from her front onto her back, and tossed my Condemnor aside, as it would have just gotten in the way. I began trying to dress Lucene¡¯s exit wound as best I could, while she laid¡ªhard¡ªon her entry wound, aided in small part by my power armor¡¯s analysis of the gash in Lucene¡¯s gut. But such analysis was not what my power armor was made for, nor did I have nearly enough field dressing for such a blow. I may have known that at the time, but if I did, it did not matter to me. Choose.


    ¡°Callant,¡± Lucene muttered weakly. I raced to meet her gaze, as her voice was the most important thing to me then. ¡°We both knew this was coming.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Lucene,¡± I seethed, and my mind flashed to me telling her those very words as I carried her out from her duel with the Eversor in Abseradon. I had saved her then. I could save her n¡ª


    ¡°No, Cal,¡± she answered. ¡°Look at me.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I assured her, nodding insistently. I then reached behind my head and popped my helmet off, tossing it aside with my Condemnor. We had already realized the air on The Finality was breathable; we had learned as much in the faux-jungle. ¡°I am, Lucy.¡±


    ¡°So few of us got to say goodbye over the years,¡± she noted, but I interrupted her point.


    ¡°No, Luce, not now, I can¡ª¡± I began, and turned back to her wound. It was more ghastly every time I looked at it, and was then a fountain of blood.


    ¡°No, Cal. Look at me,¡± she repeated, and I did, mouth agape. ¡°I love you.¡±


    I can save her. All you have to do is ask.


    ¡°I love you too, Luce,¡± I said, and felt the first drops of rain fall from my cheeks, mostly from sorrow, but surely some from the pain exploding in the back of my head. I then had an idea, and reached behind her own head and gently removed her helmet. I saw her face was as wettened as mine. ¡°The curative, where¡¯s your curative?¡± I asked, looking for her vial of the cure to Absalom¡¯s curse.


    ¡°Shattered, hours ago, in the fighting,¡± she answered. ¡°Look at me, Callant, and stop turning your damn face away,¡± she pressed on. I locked eyes with her again, in response. ¡°Good boy. I have¡­a favor to ask you, my love,¡± she suggested, then noticed I was writhing around in my own power armor. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Just getting something that should have been yours from the start,¡± I answered, and finally wrestled my Rosarius out from within my armor.


    ¡°No, Cal, I¡¯m soon not to need that,¡± she protested.


    ¡°Neither am I,¡± I shrugged, and wrapped the Rosarius around her neck. She was not strong enough to resist me, though I imagine she wanted to. ¡°Your favor?¡±


    ¡°Live,¡± she asked of me, more tears streaking down her face. ¡°If you get a chance to live, take it. I know the pain it¡¯ll cause you. But you deserve life, Cal. And you¡¯ll be surrounded by those that love you as I do.¡±


    It¡¯ll be a simple thing to save her life. You¡¯ve already had me help with saving that pilot of yours; why not your wife?


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to want to without you, Lucy,¡± I admitted, and all but fell over her, fighting with everything I had to keep the pain in my head at bay. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do anything without you. That includes life.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you want, Cal,¡± she frowned, but made a sound like a pained laugh. ¡°I want you to live. Because I know there can be happiness for you yet. And I want you to have that for me.¡±


    ¡°Please no,¡± I pleaded with her, wincing tightly but forcing myself to keep my eyes open to see her still.


    ¡°Live, Cal. Live¡­for me. Don¡¯t make me¡­spend my last moments¡­begging,¡± she insisted, clearly also pained. A gut wound was always an awful way to go. I knew that. I hated that I knew that. I hated that I thought of her pain. I hated that she was in pain.


    I swelled up in hatred for a moment, and my own pain reached an apex when I did, but I choked it down as one does tears, and kept it bay in the depths of sorrow still. Then, another idea.


    ¡°Goodbye, Cal,¡± Lucene said in a weakened sigh as I rummaged over my own armor. ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°No, not yet, don¡¯t go yet, please,¡± I begged, and cradled her head within the confines of my right arm. My left found what it was looking for. ¡°Stay with me, Lucene,¡± I said, propping her up and pouring my own vial of Absalom¡¯s curative into her throat. ¡°Stay with me,¡± I repeated, and waited to see her beautiful blonde hair whiten. I waited to see her skin wrinkle, her face sag. I waited for her to age, for the curative to take effect, to spare her soul and let her go to the afterlife.


    It did not.


    The sound of metal scraping against metal pierced my ears, then, and I looked up to see the maw of brass open before me. When I witnessed it, I knew. I knew the terrible truth. I knew everything was lost.


    As Ouranos opened a path to his lair, I at last let myself cry out in sheer, unbridled agony. The darkness returned to swallow me up.


    L-122,222.222222¡­


    11 Minutes to Launch

 Chapter 117 - Annihilation II

    It was not a sense of duty that stirred me from my sorrow. It was not the unquiet voices in my head telling me what to do. It was neither faith nor focus that guided me from Lucene¡¯s side and into Ouranos¡¯s den. It was no redeemable or reverential quality that drove me to end this long and terrible tale.


    It was hatred. Pure loathing, a purer bloodlust than any I or any of my enemies had ever known. Sheer, unbridled hatred.


    Accompanying me on my journey was not the faithful Sister whom I had once loved, but the cackling laugh of a Greater Daemon which I had once mistaken for that of Dark Gods. No, no God was It, much as It might like to think of Itself, even if its howling humor was mistakably deep and dreadful as such.


    The last stretch to Ouranos may have been grand or short, it may have been that of a hallway or a throne room. I could not say; I paid no mind to such details any longer. All that mattered was finding the bastard, and when I spied a smugness that could only have belonged to a heretic such as he, my Boltpistol roared thrice. I cared not for the daemonic hordes astride us, that patiently waited for the command to have at me. I cared not for my own sake. I cared only for Ouranos¡¯s death.


    Yet his smug grin denied me it yet, as he lifted but a finger from his Navigator-like residence and caught my Bolts in midair, where they hung for a few moments before exploding in place harmlessly. ¡°Now now, Inquisitor, we ought to talk,¡± Ouranos offered, though could not repress his own slight chuckle.


    I replied by shooting him twice more. Again, his psykana suspended my shots in midair before they detonated.


    ¡°Are you so keen to ignore the dying wish of your beloved Sister?¡± he chided me, and that at last sufficed to grant me a regretful moment of clarity. ¡°She wanted you to live, after all. I am prepared to offer you such a fate.¡±


    ¡°I thought¡­,¡± I said in a hiss, barely able to focus enough to form words upon my lips. I then shook my head from side to side, trying to clear my mangled thoughts. It did not help. ¡°I thought you needed my end?¡±


    ¡°An end? An end to what?¡± Ouranos asked, shrugging. ¡°You will die one day, Blackgar. We all will. What does it matter if you die to my hand, or theirs?¡± he suggested, gesturing to the many varied daemons that surrounded us both. ¡°I need an end not to your life, but to your life as you know it. Really, right now, in this instant, do you want to live, Inquisitor?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I hissed again, though my answer was given with such an absence of conviction that Ouranos looked on at me as one would a child crafting a fib.


    ¡°And what for? Because a corpse asked you to?¡± he suggested, pointing past me, to Lucene, who laid off in the darkness beyond. ¡°Because it is your duty to your Corpse-Emperor? Do you really intend to live for the unachievable approval of dead things?¡±


    ¡°I want to live in memory of her,¡± I answered, that time with some insistent surety.


    ¡°Will that be enough?¡±


    ¡°Enough for what?¡±


    Ouranos went through the motions of snorting a laugh, but it was not audible. ¡°Enough to save you?¡±


    ¡°Save me from what?¡±


    ¡°Yourself. And Cronos,¡± Ouranos replied. ¡°I understand the confusion, Blackgar. I¡¯m trying to help you make the right decision. I have already won, you see. You don¡¯t have a choice here that results in my defeat. You can kill me, sure, and I am sure you want to. These daemons will eat you alive and shred your soul for all eternity if you do, but you will have killed your lover¡¯s murderer all the same. And, yet, you will have denied her the one thing she wanted in death. Or you can choose life,¡± he said, and pointed behind me, where reality collapsed upon itself to form a portal not unlike that which I had used to spare many of my allies thus far in this conflict.


    ¡°You can choose life, and betray your Imperium, betray your Inquisition, in letting me live too. I will go on to terrorize the lives of billions or even trillions, until someone else kills me, someday. But you will be branded a coward and a traitor for letting my existence continue unabated. However, you will have fulfilled your lover¡¯s dying wish. You¡¯ll get to live,¡± he explained. ¡°But what kind of life will it be, to have turned your back on your Imperium and to have unavenged your lover¡¯s murder? You will devour yourself, and in that self-destruction, set Cronos free,¡± he said, and then leaned forward in his Navigator-chair toward me. ¡°What is the poor Inquisitor to do?¡±


    There will be others who mistake life for being less harmless than death, Cronos¡¯s voice echoed in my head. I do not believe the daemon repeated its phrase to me, then, but rather I came to understand its meaning at last, as once spoken when I had bartered for Mirena¡¯s life in a Quintus Firestation. In the not-so-distant future, it had said, you may find yourself making an impossible choice. I want you to live. To choose life. Lucene and Cronos wanted the same thing for me, I realized.


    And Ouranos knew it.


    I had lost more than Lucene alone. I had lost the whole damned gambit.


    The archenemy, at least through this agent, had won.


    As my aim fell from between Ouranos¡¯s eyes toward the floor, the heretic-savant murmured another chuckle, and observed, ¡°So you understand, then. Defeat. It is not given by timeless fools playing with toys they do not understand, nor crafted in keeps of Iron by petulant drug-addled children. Defeat comes from within. Cronos is yours, as first realized on Pyrras-3, now realized here, once more.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The question seemed to catch Ouranos off-guard, as much for the nature of the word itself as for the lifelessness with which it was spoken. ¡°Why? Seeking the wisdom of a heretic, Inquisitor? Never a good sign,¡± he mocked. ¡°Because I was shown the beauty of ruin once before, and believe in seeing it realized not merely in the Empyrean, but here, among the stars as well. I was the eleventh prisoner of the eleventh raid of a long-ago-lost civilian transport. When my captors, those silent, bonebleached, cannibalistic Space Marines, finally brought me to an altar of what I then-believed to be one of sacrifice, it was instead eleven of them that were smote down by powers beyond. I was chosen, in a mind-splitting vision, to see beyond the labyrinthine games of flesh and blood unto something more meaningful. And so it is here, then, that I give meaning to life and death through destruction. We all live, we all die, most of us without any meaning at all. But I, Inquisitor, give meaning to those that would not otherwise have it. Every string pulled to get you here needed to be pulled. And what follows from your destruction will bring beauty to the lives¡ªand deaths¡ªof trillions more. What greater meaning could you aspire to, Inquisitor, than an unending cascade of ruination?¡±


    ¡°You say that like I should be thanking you,¡± I noted of his pride.


    ¡°Perhaps you should be. I grant you the gift of true Annihilation. You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    ¡°I think I would rather pass on that,¡± I admitted. ¡°And piss on it, too.¡± He chuckled to himself again, despite my vulgarity.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± he asked, though I did not answer. ¡°Well, I have given you all the information that I am able to. Make your choice, Blackgar; I will not stop any further Bolt from taking my head off, nor will I then be able to prevent you from becoming daemonic prey. I can only advise thinking your decision through.¡±


    Though I lifted my Boltpistol toward him once more, I did not pull the trigger with thoughtless immediacy as I had before. Instead, I thought on it, as long and as hard as I could. For once, finally, the voices in my head quieted to let me dwell on the subject at hand, to let me try to identify the least-terrible course of action. I want you to live, Lucene¡¯s voice blended with Cronos¡¯s for me. I had tried to remember her voice, but Cronos¡¯s still appeared. The daemon may have chosen to speak in unison with my memory, then.


    ¡°Oh, almost forgot to mention,¡± Ouranos remembered while at the other end of a Boltpistol. ¡°I had once told you of those vile colors I kept at bay. You may choose to believe that your sacrifice, even if spent in denial of your lover¡¯s wishes, is worth denying Cronos victory and putting an end to the suffering I would cause. But if I die, just as these daemons feast on your soul, those colors will feast on your Imperium. I am Warden to their Abyssal prison, and without me, there is nothing to hold them back. Annihilation arrives all the same.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d much prefer you shut up now,¡± I growled, still trying to focus on my decision.


    ¡°Clock¡¯s ticking,¡± he offered with a shrug, but otherwise said nothing else at last, and leaned back in his Navigator-unit. I at last looked over him properly, assessing the man that had ruined me so. He was unremarkably average in appearance; not terribly warped nor corrupted from what must have been intense exposure to the immaterium, nor mangled by the ravages of time despite the eons he must have lived. He could have passed for any ordinary citizen in the Imperium if he tried. A dull-red suit of weathered cloth adorned his body, and there were traces of some House sigils upon the coat, but they had long-since faded away to obscurity. A savant of a noble House, not unlike Zha Trantos, though he had fallen from grace where she had ascended in immaculate purity. She was everything he was not, and in that, I found some glimmer of happiness amidst the darkened horror of this foe. That sliver of hope, founded of the thought of Zha, was sufficient at peeling away the sly, smug grin Ouranos continuously wore, though only just.


    But it was that smugness that revealed an out, even if the route involved was fraught with peril.


    Five-point-three percent, Zha¡¯s voice reminded me. 5.3% chance for me to kill him properly. And, born of the beast¡¯s pride, I had just seen how. I lowered my aim, hand shaking weakly, and the smug grin returned. After flicking the safety of my Boltpistol, I dropped it to the ground while dropping my arms to my sides, eyes closing, lifelessly. I paused, breathing slowly, and waited for some gloating.


    ¡°Choosing to betray your Imperium, then, and take on Cronos alone? Fascinating. And not what I expected,¡± Ouranos admitted. ¡°And yet, exactly what I expected. You always proved a formidably capable man to maneuver around. Who knows; maybe that is a battle you can win.¡±


    ¡°Hadn¡¯t I asked you to shut up?¡± I sighed in disdain, opening my eyes in pained squints.


    ¡°Technically no,¡± Ouranos said in another chuckle. I ignored him and looked behind me, toward the portal, but not at it. I looked beyond, to the body of my lover, which laid alone far away in the darkness. ¡°I cannot give you the time to retrieve her,¡± Ouranos warned me. ¡°Turn your back on me and on your chance of escape, and these daemons will kill you all the same.¡±


    ¡°I understand, and don¡¯t need you to explain anything anymore, you insolent wretch,¡± I hissed. Then, I took a deep breath in and simmered down. ¡°You know, in every major campaign against you, I have lost an arm. The same one, thankfully, each time. I think you¡¯re meant to take it. Keep it, this time,¡± I offered, and began unlatching my left appendage with my right.


    ¡°As what, a trophy?¡± Ouranos offered.


    ¡°Something like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, none have come as close as you have in all these years in getting to me. Yes, it would be a fine remembrance of the one who came the closest, and still failed,¡± Ouranos agreed. ¡°Imagery matters in this universe, after all. A conquered Inquisitor¡¯s arm can go a long way toward maneuvering the weak of will around. I accept your contribution to the cause of Annihilation, Blackgar,¡± Ouranos said, and broke into a hearty laugh thereafter. I did not respond to his mockery, and instead silently continued to work at dislodging my augmetic from my body before tossing it to his feet when it was free. It clattered on the ground a bit, but then remained motionless. Suddenly feeling significantly lighter on my feet, I found I had the strength, then, to walk toward the exit portal he had conjured for me. ¡°Goodbye, Inquisitor.¡±


    I did not reply to him before making my leave from The Finality at last.


    L-14,815


    ~1 Minute 20 Seconds to Launch


    ***


    I appeared, after so minor a flash of light it may not have been truly real, upon the deck of the Coldbreed, the vessel Lucene and I had called home for so long a time. It was busy, and blared of sirens telling of an impending Exterminatus. I did not care. +LEAVE,+ I commanded of all those present, and everyone from Captain Vakian to some attending techpriests to servoskulls and servitors left at once from the scene without a single quip, overwhelmed by the fullest force of my psykana I could manage. I would later learn that many, including Vakian, were so-compelled by my mind as to make for the launch bays of the vessel and seek the means to leave the ship entirely. Thankfully, none broke the vessel¡¯s self-quarantine.


    In their absence, I wrestled the blast doors beyond the command deck¡¯s viewport open to see the space beyond, where The Finality lied. Where Lucene rested in the dark beyond my view. I then raised my biological hand to my augmetic shoulder, and began tapping away at a few buttons embedded in my body. Then, at last, I spoke, ¡°Ouranos.¡±


    There was silence for a moment, after which the garbled voice of my dreaded foe emerged from my shoulder. ¡°Ah, Inquisitor, you mean to tell me that this trophy you¡¯ve given me serves many such a purpose?¡±


    ¡°I do. It has proven quite the tool over the years,¡± I answered, and carefully, silently, continued tapping at my shoulder.


    ¡°Impressive. Though I do not imagine it can communicate through the Warp as the device I had left for Mortoc to find could.¡±


    ¡°Likely not.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you are so keen on hearing my voice, I am certain I can find a way to get in touch with you again later on,¡± Ouranos offered. ¡°Until then, I shall keep this trophy of yours close, for it is a joyous reminder of our beautiful conflict.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I hissed, and thumbed the final button I needed to press with such force as to drive the bone of my hand into the sinewed metal of my shoulder. The line went dead as a blue-green explosion of flame erupted out from The Finality, tiny as a speck but discernable all the same against its stygian form and the black of space. ¡°For the Emperor.¡±


    It was then, as I fell to my knees, that missiles soared out from The Coldbreed and every other vessel of my fleet. They glimmered through the dark of the void for a few moments, but so, too, did the The Finality. A sheen of light skimmed over the Space Hulk ahead following the explosion that had breached its hull, and just as the Cyclonic Torpedoes breached the outer plating of the craft, the entire vessel lurched inward upon itself, as though folded like a piece of parchment. In a blink, The Finality collapsed upon itself entirely, and vanished into the Warp just as swiftly as it had once appeared before us. The missiles that had punctured its hull were left alone in the void, and detonated at once, sparkling in an array of lights with far less of an explosive result than if they had hid their mark.


    I was certain Ouranos was dead, even if his vessel had escaped into the abyss with his corpse. With Lucene. It could be a thousand years¡ªor more¡ªbefore anyone saw it again, before anyone could find and recover her. She was alone aboard the dreadful vessel as it careened through an oceanic hell, aimless, lost. I had done that to her. I had brought that fate upon her.


    Lucene Flint was gone.


    And so was I.


    Bliss, despite a recently stitched gut, found herself on the way to the command deck of her own volition as the Exterminatus countdown neared its end. Along the way, she stepped aside the sudden appearance of a large number of bridge personnel, including Captain Vakian. ¡°Where are you all going?¡± she asked of him, huddled up against a wall.


    ¡°Leaving,¡± Vakian answered, carrying on his way.


    ¡°Leaving? Leaving where?¡± Bliss furthered. Vakian did not answer again, having moved out of earshot of simple conversation already, along with the busy crowd around him. ¡°What?¡± she muttered to herself, perplexed, and then the moment of realization hit her. ¡°Callant.¡±


    Despite having broken into a full sprint toward the bridge, it was minutes more before she arrived. Upon her arrival, she was greeted not only with an intense rush of wind, but also the blaring of sirens anew. These sirens no longer called of the recently-launched Exterminatus, but instead of the Alpha Plus psychic anomaly detected amid the fleet. Bliss needed only scour the bridge of the Coldbreed to identify its source amidst a hurricane of dusty wind and debris: One man, with his head hung low, but standing upright like a soldier nevertheless.


    ¡°Cal¡ª¡± she began, but the name was stolen from her mouth as the winds blew into her with tremendous force. She winced and shielded her eyes, and had to harden her stance, but kept her ground despite the deck-breaking pyskana wielded against her.


    +GO, BLISS. PLEASE.+


    Never, she thought, and despite the intensifying winds all around her, raised a foot into the air and took a single step toward me. The deck of the Coldbreed shook in agony, and the psychic onslaught in the room reached new heights, flattening all manner of cogitator consoles and leveling the scene. Bliss buckled, but still did not give way, far stronger than most as she was. She took another step forward.


    The ground breaking beneath her did not deter her advance. Nor did the searing of the hair from her flesh, as the psykana intensified and funneled her way, like a cone of invisible might. Ceramite flooring gave way to adamantine below, and even that began to bend and melt as Bliss neared, her feet pushing clumps of the voidship¡¯s inner hull into small mounds under her heels as she painstakingly pressed on. Even as her eyes and ears began to hemorrhage and bleed down her face, Bliss fought with tooth and claw to near me. Upon finally reaching me, a wave of psychic power rushed out from my body in all directions, pulverizing both Bliss and the scene around us, sending us both to the bottom of a crater in the ground not unlike that which had once flattened a Phaenonite on Hestia Majoris. This sufficed to drop Bliss to one knee and pop an arm from its socket.


    Then, finally, I turned to face her, and Bliss finally saw the rainstorm falling from my eyes, which matched her own tears of blood. And she knew. She may have already suspected, but she knew, then, what had happened, and what was happening. Ouranos had won. Lucene had died. Cronos was emerging, and with a might that could shatter the crust of planets. If not halted here, it would feed on anguish unending, and there might be no stopping it at all. As if to accentuate this point, my eyes, visible ahead of Bliss¡¯s, faded to black, as did the scene behind me, all light being sucked away into the fathomless depths of horror.


    At this, Bliss lurched herself forward and upward, and at last embraced me as best she could, including with her dislocated arm. She could end it then. Throne, how I wanted her to. And yet, as the dim light of reality returned alongside the whiteness of my eyes, she chose not to. Instead, we cried and suffered together. Then we fell to the ground together, where we continued to cry and suffer. Bliss knew I did not have much left in me. I knew I had taken most of what she had out of her. And Cronos knew that until such a time that it had emerged from me entirely, Bliss was a threat it could not test directly.


    I passed out first, in Bliss¡¯s arms. As she laid me upon the ground in our adamantine crater, and after kissing my forehead with bloodied lips, she passed out too, still embracing me.


    A terrible day of horrors had ended.


    Many more were soon to follow.

 Chapter 118 - Fallout

    Bliss Carmichael


    When Bliss came to after having helped me regain control of myself, she did so in the same field of maize that I had been summoned to just before the fall of The Atticus. It had been daytime, then, for me, but night had fallen here for her, and though there was a glimmer of moonlight, no such celestial objects were visible in the darkened skies above. Despite the fact that she had been broken down by my psykana in her most recent memories, she found herself completely intact now¡ªeven her gut wound from The Finality had gone.


    Upon pushing herself to her feet, she found my visage standing ahead of her a short distance away, head hung low but hands pressing each fingertip together as though making a prayer of patience, though the palms of those hands did not touch. ¡°Callant?¡± Bliss asked. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°We are where we were last,¡± my visage replied in my voice. It then raised its head, revealing darkened eyes to my ally. ¡°But I am not your plaything, as he is.¡±


    ¡°Cronos,¡± Bliss understood, and the daemon morphed my face into a grin as a cool wind whisked over the field. ¡°He is more to me than that, and you know it.¡±


    ¡°I do. Which is why we¡¯re here,¡± the daemon answered; where it had previously communicated to me in my voice without moving my mouth, it did so now, to Bliss, indeed now speaking audibly via my tongue and teeth. ¡°We¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where is he?¡± Bliss interrupted, looking around the scene searchingly, as one would for a misplaced item.


    ¡°Near, and yet for you, so very far,¡± it answered. ¡°We have¡ª¡± Cronos began again, but Bliss ignored the daemon further, and strode off into the tall maize to her right, vanishing into its darkened shadows. She reappeared ahead of Cronos again a moment later, entering the same clearing if from the requisite direction needed to face the daemon again. ¡°We¡¯re going to have this conversation, girl, one way or another.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything to say to you, other than to spit in your face and curse the ground you stride upon,¡± Bliss answered. To counter her contempt, Cronos moved my right¡ªbiological¡ªhand away from my left augmetic¡ªwhich I had lost to slay Ouranos¡ª, and whisked a finger toward itself before returning my hands to their prayerful positions. Bliss was forced into the air, albeit slowly and clearly without any intention to harm her, and pulled over to Cronos¡¯s position. There was no striding for the daemon just yet. Upon landing, she still contorted her face to try to spit upon the daemon, but with lightning speed my biological hand raced to Bliss¡¯s head, its index finger driving into her mouth while its thumb kept her chin up and its last three fingers stretched over the left side of her face.


    Bliss thrust both of her arms up to my one and tried to wrestle herself free of Cronos¡¯s grasp, but for all her might, she could not even produce a quiver from my arm. Cronos¡¯s grin widened. And then, spittle suppressed, it removed my index finger from her mouth but continued to grasp her face before forcing my lips upon hers. Bliss tried to escape the kiss, but found herself conflicted¡ªthey were the lips she so wanted to devour on each and every day, they tasted and moved as mine did. Yet the aggression and forcefulness which commanded them was very obviously not mine. Regardless, try as she might have to escape the kiss with the daemon, she could not until the daemon finally relented. And even then, it continued to hold on to her head in its right palm.


    ¡°You mortal creatures have such simplistic desires,¡± Cronos chided, shaking its head, as it licked its own saliva, as well as Bliss¡¯s, from my lips. ¡°You can say you act and live and die for your Emperor, but you don¡¯t, none of you do. Not forever. Mortals cannot grasp what dedication to the immortal would require. Blackgar¡¯s final words to Ouranos were that typical ¡®For the Emperor!¡¯ slop, but do you know what he wanted to say?¡± Cronos asked, looking back into Bliss¡¯s terrified eyes as she squirmed within its grasp¡ªwithin mine. That grasp then fell from her face to her neck, and choked her just enough to leave her able to breathe, but not more than that. ¡°¡®Go to hell.¡¯ Oh, how he fights against himself to keep up the fa?ade of purity his Inquisition requires. But you are not so strong, are you? You could have ended all this, ended him, me, but you chose not to. You chose your own selfish desires, and spared him. Because you need to play.¡±


    ¡°Frig¡­you,¡± Bliss whinnied out.


    ¡°What? Want only to play with him and not me? I thought you had agreed to contesting in my games, you and that savant and Scion, no?¡± Cronos suggested. ¡°They¡¯ll be easier to break, I imagine, than you. So we¡¯ll have to savor this, you and I, and I so deeply desire to play with you. I think at least one of us will have some fun here, don¡¯t you?¡± At that, Cronos finally let Bliss go with a push away from itself. Bliss stumbled a bit, but only for a single step, before righting herself in an instant and assuming a combative stance. ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± Cronos observed, smile widening enough to reveal two sets of white teeth among a shadowed face.


    Swallowing her fear, Bliss shot forth with a roundhouse kick aimed at my skull, and would have undoubtedly decapitated me in an instant were this the real. But I was not her target; her target was something far, far more horrifying than I could ever be, and I had been the scourge of thousands of heretics. Bliss had engaged Cronos believing that the daemon could only make use of my biological appendages, as it had not evidenced otherwise thus far. But while Bliss moved in a blur of unbridled ferocity, Cronos responded at such a pace as to appear unmoving even to her eyes. It was far beyond transhumanism; Bliss outright could not see my augmetic break through her leg at its knee and cleave her lower leg off in blunt brutality.


    Bliss began to collapse forward in pain, carried toward Cronos by her own momentum, but never fell entirely before Cronos then raced my biological hand into her face, two fingers borrowing through her eyes. Before she could cry out from that or from the sudden loss of her leg, Cronos ripped half her skull apart, and let the severely mangled Bliss Carmichael fall flat to its feet, where she bled out in a horrible death.


    Then she was where she had been initially, coming to on her front in the clearing of the maize. Blood stained the clearing near Cronos, but her corpse had vanished. The pain of her death, however, had not, and Bliss clawed at her face and her leg, still feeling the torment of having lost them both. ¡°Shall we play again?¡± Cronos called. ¡°We do still have an audience of one, after all. Even if you are to be my plaything, it¡¯s best we not keep yours waiting,¡± it suggested, and at last broke into one of my own laughs. Further insult to injury.


    ¡°Callant sees this?¡± Bliss hissed, still recovering from her death moments ago.


    ¡°He sees all of it,¡± Cronos confirmed. ¡°I do not allow him to close his eyes to these truths. Everything I do to you with his hands is a memory in his mind. To him, I¡¯m not torturing you, he is,¡± the daemon elaborated, and broke into another of my laughs.


    ¡°He¡¯s smart enough to know that he would never,¡± Bliss insisted, uneasily rising to her feet once more. ¡°He knows the tricks your kind employ.¡±


    ¡°Does he? Does the man who is not spared a moment to grieve the loss of the life he knew have a shred of logical faculties remaining, or is he not trapped within an emotional hellhole of his own creation?¡± Cronos asked. ¡°Are you not trapped in his prison likewise, to be ripped apart again and again until I finally cleave my way out of your would-be lover? Or, until, the other thing.¡±


    ¡°The other thing?¡±


    Another teeth-showing grin took hold on my face. ¡°I had said I would break you. Breaking isn¡¯t killing¡ªsomething Blackgar has learned the hard way, and that you¡¯re about to learn likewise. What do you want more than anything, to serve your Emperor or to be with him?¡± Cronos asked. Bliss said nothing, though doubt did find purchase in her mind. ¡°I will break you by making you want nothing to do with Blackgar ever again. You will look upon his face with the fear and disgust you show to mine. You will recoil at his touch, remembering every violation of your existence I commit to you. You desire him now, but I will break you by making that desire devour itself until only disdain remains. Then, and only then, I will free you from this torment, little one,¡± the daemon explained. ¡°Now then, my plaything: Let us play again.¡±


    To awake from Bliss¡¯s nightmare was to return to mine. I found myself in a medicae unit, as often I had, unable to move much at all, but I was not the one to receive much attention then. Instead, a crowd of attendants flurried around Bliss¡¯s medicae unit, which rested next to mine. Bliss¡¯s body was sleeping soundly in a physical sense, yet sensor readouts reported a sudden and inexplicable burst of pain from within my Agent¡¯s psyche. Castecael noted that Bliss¡¯s physical injuries, apparently mostly healed by then, should not have been capable of inflicting such trauma upon her even at their worst. She ordered for an increased dosage of opiates, but even that seemed to have little effect.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I tried calling out to Castecael audibly, but found I could not. No part of my body could move; I could only just barely blink and breathe. I could not even move my eyes in their sockets to look around the room. I was trapped within my own flesh. Thankfully, my mind was free¡ªthough that was likely a double-edged blade. I scanned the room, and found Zha nearby, watching over the seen. +Trantos!+ I messaged her, and she turned to me, eyebrows raised. +Get her out of here!+


    ¡°Callant?¡± Zha said quietly, as though uncertain she had heard my mind¡¯s voice at all. She nevertheless stepped nearer. ¡°Get who out of where?¡±


    +Get Bliss away from me! Put her somewhere it can¡¯t find her! Off this ship and surrounded by Pariahs if you must. Do it, now!+


    ¡°It?¡± Zha wondered, but needed only a moment to understand. In a heartbeat, she flung herself toward Castecael. ¡°Discharge her, now!¡± Zha commanded of my medicae and her staff.


    ¡°What, are you crazy? Can¡¯t you see her suffer¡ª¡± Castecael protested.


    ¡°I can, and I know. Do her physical injuries demand any of this medicae equipment be applied to her?¡± Zha queried.


    ¡°No, Zha, her physical injuries are fine, but this¡ª¡± Castecael insisted.


    ¡°Then discharge her! Galen!¡± Zha ordered, and her knight in blackened armor appeared from around the corner of the entrance to the medicae room. ¡°Help me wheel Bliss out of here, to the launch bay.¡±


    ¡°As you command, Inquisitor,¡± Galen nodded, and glanced to me¡ªand must have seen my eye open and staring at the ceiling¡ªbefore moving to Bliss¡¯s side.


    ¡°Launch bay? Zha, what are you talking about?¡± Castecael continued to protest, but obeyed the Inquisitor¡¯s orders all the same.


    ¡°Trust me when I say you¡¯re better off not knowing,¡± Zha answered, and then turned around, facing a gathering crowd. ¡°Clear the way, the lot of you!¡±


    +thank you, zha,+ I messaged her, but found my capacity to enter her mind dwindling.


    I¡¯m so sorry, Callant. I¡¯ll figure this all out¡ªI must.


    ***


    Massino Varnus


    I did not then know where Zha intended to bring Bliss, nor did I wish to know. But I do know that when next I slept, my dreams were nonexistent, which was a great mercy. Never again did I bear witness to Bliss¡¯s torment, and I do not imagine Cronos would have wasted the effort on such a thing if I could not see it. I could only hope that Bliss had escaped the daemon¡¯s clutches with her sanity intact. ¡®Wellbeing¡¯ was already far removed from the question.


    I had many visitors over the following days. Many platitudes and kindnesses were paid to me generously. I could not respond to any of them. Castecael diagnosed me with chronic catatonia, with said-diagnosis involving effects on my psykana as well. She of course was unaware of the monster that lurked just under the surface of my skin. And even those that did know of the beast barely knew the shape of its horrors; only Bliss had borne witness to those.


    In any event, in time, the crowds faded, which I was thankful for. It was not that I did not appreciate the presence of my dearest friends, many of whom I loved like family, but it was from that love that I was grateful their visits were uneventful. Cronos never reached out and harmed any of them again. Things became eerily quiet, yet tension remained, like the calm before an oncoming storm.


    One night, as I laid alone after my medicae attendants had departed, I spied an ominous green glow from beyond the room, revealed through the tinted glass of the room¡¯s double doors. It grew closer, and at first I thought the ship as haunted as I was, but when the doors opened my fears assuaged as Varnus revealed himself. As he approached me, I had the thought to ask him to turn the lights on, but his head was always more difficult for me to enter normally; I knew I had no chance of the task then.


    Once standing next to me, Varnus scanned me up and down for a few moments. I laid in motionless silence, letting him have free reign to study me like a coroner would a corpse. Eventually, Varnus stated, in as flat a tone as ever, ¡°You can hear me.¡±


    It was not a question, so I knew I did not need to reply. Still, some vague social construct had me try to say ¡®yes.¡¯ As ever thus far, I failed to speak as such, or otherwise give any other signs of life.


    In the absence of my answer, Varnus retracted his arms into the confines of his red cloak, rummaging about until one hand reappeared, holding¡ªor transformed¡ªinto a medicae injector. I assumed, at first, it was meant for me. But, instead, Varnus turned the injector upon himself, plugging it into a port on his opposite arm and fueling himself with whatever fluids were within the contraption. ¡°Adrenaline,¡± he said plainly then, and I understood, though still could not communicate as such. ¡°You have seen of me as I am about to be only once before. I believe I owe it to you to speak in your own tongue.¡±


    No response.


    ¡°Inquisitor Callant Blackgar,¡± Varnus said, a tinge of emotion peeking out from his voice now. He spoke my name with a hint of reverence, yet also in suppressed rage. ¡°The last thing I suspect you need is for me to tell you how great you are. And, yet, you must know that you are. I failed you aboard that dreadful vessel. You spared me, despite that failure. Thank you. But that is not why I am here,¡± he shook his head, and left it looking away from me, toward the doors, when his head-shake stopped.


    ¡°Centuries ago, you slew Holicar Espirov. I subsequently agreed to destroy the Heretek¡¯s allies with you. And we have. By your hand, mostly¡ªagain, with my gratitude. We have killed and killed¡­,¡± he began, and then looked back to me. ¡°And been brought here. I wish I knew how to help you, Inquisitor, I really do. But repairing your flesh is a task for Ms. Rock, your expert medicae, and repairing your mind¡­I neither know how, nor who is suited to the task. I am sorry.¡±


    An awkward silence followed, broken up only by the occasional buzz and whirr of mechatronics beneath Varnus¡¯s cloak. Eventually, he spoke up again, ¡°Not only am I unable to assist in your recovery, Inquisitor, I also cannot quantify the extent of your wounds. The vagaries of the human mind escape me, as mine is riddled with the language of logic. From that logic, then, is borne an idea: I must leave. I owe myself to the Omnissiah, and must continue my work for the Blessed Machine. Our work together is completed, yet I must continue on, unable to estimate the span of your requisite recovery as I am. I shall pray that if and when you do make a recovery, you and I shall cross paths yet again, and that we might employ ourselves to our tasks to a worthier end than this,¡± he explained, and then turned away from me once more and took a single step away.


    After that step, he turned back to me. ¡°I have left designs for a final augmetic for you in my quarters. May it keep you safe in troubled times. Inquisitor, friendship is not a thing that can be programmed. Yet it is built over time all the same. I relish that which we have crafted together, and hold you in such a regard; I pray my current self-dismissal from your side will not wound our alliance, but will understand if you decide it so. You are a remarkable man, Callant Blackgar, and I am so sorry for this loss¡ªyour loss. Do find me again, if you want me, and I will be happy to cull evil from this plane by your side once more. Until such a time, may the Emperor protect you eternal. Goodbye.¡±


    And with that, I never saw Massino Varnus again. If nothing else, he had escaped the daemon¡¯s clutches, at least.


    Is that how you see it? Contextualizing the flight of your allies in terms of me? That¡¯s how I want you to see it, at least.


    I chose not to reply to Cronos, rather than being unable to.


    ***


    Castecael Rock


    ¡°How is he?¡± Castecael asked some days later as she entered the medicae room.


    ¡°Stable, but nonresponsive, as he has been,¡± an attending nurse replied.


    ¡°Give me the room,¡± Castecael ordered, and the nurse obliged, taking some servitors with him. When they had gone, she moved across the room, away from me, to fetch a chair, which she then lifted into the air¡ªso as not to make it screech along the floor¡ªand put next to my unit. Once seated next to me, Castecael wrapped her right arm around mine, holding me along the length of my forearm. Despite the action, she said nothing at first.


    In time, tears began to form in her eyes, and as they began to slide down her face, she wiped her cheeks on her free hand, along the base of its thumb. After a sniffle, she said, ¡°Cal, I¡¯m¡­I¡¯ve thought long and hard about this, so please spare yourself any responsibility for what I¡¯m about to say.¡± She then reached over me and gently tilted my head to face her, which I appreciated.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been so kind to me over the years, from taking me in in the first place to putting up with Mirena and me. You¡¯ve always been considerate and patient, even if¡­ha, even if not the best patient,¡± she suggested, laughing at the double meaning of the word. ¡°But you are my patient, now. And I want what¡¯s best for you. So, following in that techpriest¡¯s footsteps, I am hereby resigning from your service,¡± she said, and then choked down the words she had said, raising her head toward the ceiling as tears returned to falling from her eyes. ¡°Mirena¡­loves you. And you love her. And she can¡¯t bear the thought of you like this, heartbroken, alone. I¡¯ve slept with her these past few nights but I have not been with her. This is far from the first time she¡¯s slept with thoughts of you while sleeping with me, but now it is the most consistent. And you¡­we both know it is not medicine which you require,¡± Castecael offered, and reached over me again to put a hand to my chest.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all about you of course. I am my own woman and I have the right to my own life. Which is why I am going to enlist in the Sororitas, in Lucene¡¯s memory. I am no combatant, of course, but Lucene oft told me stories of the Orders Hospitaller. I aspire to that, then,¡± Castecael admitted. ¡°This is my decision, and I of course do not make it lightly. Mirena¡­I have loved her for longer than you have Lucene. And it was a fantastic kind of love. Yet from its early days until now, it was a love that was never whole or complete. Ever have you been able to provide for Mirena in ways I could not. Ever has she sought you out in place of me. She¡¯ll be angry with me for leaving her, of course, and she¡¯ll be right to be. But you need her, and I do not think I could convince her to help you in the ways you need while I¡¯m here. And if I cannot act to help my own Inquisitor, what kind of an Acolyte of the Inquisition am I?¡± Castecael suggested.


    She then reached to me again, to my face, and wiped a tear that had fallen from my own eye. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Cal. This is what I want to do. For you, for her, and for me. It¡¯s cruel to her, it is, and life has been cruel to you and she alike for some time now. I have no cure for cruelty. But I do have the power to make a decision such as this, and I have,¡± she declared, and then let go of me and rose from her seat. She paused a moment, and then leaned over me before kissing me, briefly, on my lips. ¡°Take care of her, Cal,¡± she whispered afterward. ¡°But more importantly, let her take care of you. It¡¯s what she wants, as I want for her.¡± She then turned to leave.


    +don¡¯t go.+


    Castecael turned around to face me one last time and smiled. ¡°Goodbye, Cal. Thank you for everything.¡±

 Chapter 119 - Containment

    Silas¡¯s head was held under his hands as he sat alone at a dark steel desk in a dark steel room. A singular light source dimly illuminated patches of the room; it reminded Silas not of the space used for his own interrogation by the Arbites of Skardak Tertium, but that of Blackgar¡¯s interrogation of a Canoness on Hestia Majoris. What simpler times those were, he thought, when strength and skill sufficed to slay his foes. Now battles seemed to transcend the physical realm of combat, and he was not sure how equipped he was to fight in such a theatre of war.


    But he intended to, nevertheless, if given the opportunity.


    When the door to the room slid open with a pneumatic gasp and a figure clad in black synskin entered, Silas wondered for a moment if he was going to be denied that opportunity. Had the Inquisition sent this operative to silence him? Perhaps he knew too much, now, or had done too little. However, such fears were quelled when the figure entered the thin veneer of light offered in the room, and the unmistakably provocative form of Bliss Carmichael revealed itself to Silas. She sat across from him, saying nothing at first, and inversely to Silas, put her face into her palms.


    Silas lifted his head up and sat upright. ¡°What¡¯s with the suit?¡± Silas asked, skipping past any greetings, to ask why Bliss was in her combat synskin.


    ¡°Just¡­wearing it for a stupid reason, I guess,¡± Bliss shrugged, not lifting her head up and instead talking to the desk between them. ¡°It makes me feel stronger. Safer.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound stupid. You OK?¡±


    ¡°Thank you. And thanks for asking. No, I¡¯m not OK,¡± Bliss sighed, shaking her head gently. ¡°For reasons you probably expect as much as for those you cannot yet know of.¡±


    ¡°Care to explain? Or should we wait for Trantos?¡± Silas asked, looking to the door again, which had yet to open and reveal the savant-Inquisitor.


    ¡°She already knows. May as well fill you in. Cronos is active and leaking out of Callant. I¡­think I stopped a full-on daemonic incursion from exploding out of his body, but¡­but that seems to be an eventuality now. Having stopped its escape from Callant, Cronos tortured me to death¡ªin a mindspace¡ª121 times. Ever been tortured to death?¡± Bliss asked, then waved a hand dismissively, as if the rhetoric of the question was not obvious enough. Still, her head hung low. ¡°So no, I¡¯m not OK.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Silas said. The apology vanished into the space between them just as soon as it arrived, and a measured silence took its place instead. One could have replied to Silas and told him it was not his fault. But such a response never came. Did she blame him for this situation? Did I? For the discharge of his rifle that resulted in the explosion that had sent my final operatives packing? All Silas knew was that he blamed himself for it all, and that the universe had not given him any reason to doubt that evaluation.


    ¡°How¡¯s the augmetic?¡± Bliss broke the silence eventually, and even managed to lift her head up from her hands at last.


    ¡°It itches,¡± Silas answered, putting a hand to the metal plating along his neck which had replaced las-fried flesh.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem to have altered your voice, though, so at least there¡¯s that,¡± Bliss acknowledged. Silas nodded. Then Bliss echoed a sentiment Silas had thought to himself moments ago, and said, ¡°Things were simpler¡ªeasier¡ªbefore Mortoc. There was room for¡­well, bliss. Now the future looks so dark and dreary. Perhaps things always were so, and the glimmer of hope we shared was an illusion created by our own mutual arrogance. Whatever the case, the fire is gone. Night falls. What can one hope for in such times, and how?¡±


    ¡°Anything, and with faith,¡± Zha answered, entering into the room at last. ¡°Faith is an ontological force, and like any other universal force, it can be utilized if wielded wisely,¡± she explained, stepping up to the desk and sitting at the table¡¯s head, between Silas and Bliss. ¡°Mr. Blackgar, were he here and able, would acknowledge that faith matters most when it is tested and that this is most certainly the greatest test of our lives. If there is to be any goodness in the future, we must maintain faith in it, now more than ever¡ªand it shall not be easy, no, but things of import rarely are.¡±


    ¡°Your skill with giving speeches improves significantly when you consider what Callant would say,¡± Bliss noted. Silas sensed a grin had formed behind Bliss¡¯s mask, though none could see it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± Zha agreed, and then looked back and forth between her two allies. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°I caught Silas up on what the daemon has done to me, gory and violative details aside,¡± Bliss answered. ¡°The rest is on you.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Well¡­where does one begin?¡± Zha wondered, rubbing her brow.


    ¡°Cal?¡± Silas suggested.


    ¡°That is no simple subject, Mr. Hager,¡± Zha grunted in response. ¡°But yes, obviously, makes the most sense. Mr. Blackgar is¡­he considers himself a lost cause. Cronos is on the precipice of emerging, and from what I can tell¡ªhaving read Ordo Malleus doctrines of daemonic possession, incursion, and terminology¡ªa successful emergence of the daemon would¡­,¡± she began, but her voice trailed off.


    ¡°Inquisitor?¡± Silas prodded. Zha stared harrowingly ahead, and it dawned on Silas that for as much as he knew, Zha knew far, far more. And it horrified her to her core.


    Zha¡¯s gaze began to trail upward as she processed the extent of the damage Cronos could cause, and as planetary casualties mounted, she could not help but close her eyes in a wince. Then, after a few moments of strained, savant-driven calculation, Zha finally concluded, ¡°The Sector would not survive. The whole of the Segmentum might be at risk, and the daemon would even threaten Holy Terra itself if left unchecked. The Imperium has banished greater daemons before, often through the might and valor of the Grey Knights, but this one¡­what it has done, and is doing, without even having achieved a full possession of Callant Blackgar, is evidence of an abnormal power. One that is horrifically rare, even among a rare breed of horrors. That Cronos is able to exert its will on others and on the material space around its host without denying that host its sentience is¡­unprecedented. And it is likely using Callant as a pool of psychic energy to leech from, growing stronger day by day out of Mr. Blackgar¡¯s emotional anguish. The prognosis is¡­well, dire would be an understatement.¡±


    The response was obvious to both Silas and Bliss, and yet neither of them wanted to say it. They even looked at each other, and seemed to silently beg the other to ask the question. Should it come from the estranged lover, or the makeshift brother, then? Silas buckled, nodded, and gave in, turning to Zha before asking, ¡°We¡¯re going to need to kill him, as he asked of us, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Zha¡¯s response was not immediate. In fact, as with calculating the extent of the damage Cronos could cause, the process she ran through her head then seemed to pain her again. When she did reply, she spoke words that Silas could not remember as having been uttered in her voice ever before. ¡°I do not know.¡± The weight of the sentence being said by a savant stifled further reply in the room. Zha, then, elaborated, ¡°It would¡­likely be a great mercy for Mr. Blackgar, and a greater mercy for unknowable billions. And yet the problem remains: why does the ordo Chronos want Mr. Blackgar alive? Has he served his purpose in successfully terminating Ouranos? Or is his calling yet to come? Such is the problem with prophets¡ªtheir portents are damnably ambiguous. Are we to sit on our hands in inaction and let my fa¡ªour Inquisitorial ally suffer forever?¡± Zha suggested rhetorically. That she had almost referred to me as her ¡®father¡¯ did not go unnoticed by either of her compatriots. ¡°Or if we are to pull the trigger earlier than intended, what damage would our eagerness cause? I do not have answers to these questions. These unanswered foes of mine nag at me day in and day out. The Ordos are silent despite my summons; I have not been able to reach a representative of the ordo Chronos despite my efforts and the return of astropathic communication,¡± Zha suggested, and while she did not say it, begrudgingly admitted to herself, Which returned exactly when Ouranos said it would.


    ¡°Castecael Rock¡ªwho has recently left our retinue, I should add¡ªonce told me, quote, ¡®To all questions, there is an answer. To all maladies, a salve.¡¯ I have faith that she was right. I have faith that somewhere among the stars, a being or weapon or strategy capable of binding and banishing Cronos must exist. I have faith that Mr. Blackgar is strong enough to keep the beast at bay until we can find such a thing and drive Cronos from the materium with it. In that, I do not subscribe to inaction or overeager reaction, but in our ability to act calmly elsewhere. We do not see a solution to our problems before us, but that does not prove a nonexistence, only that the scope of our vision is narrow. If we are to defeat Cronos, we are not going to do so here, with our present knowledge and resources. We must have faith that we can find a place, a time, and the means with which to banish this great horror from our lives once and for all, and at last end this terrible tale it has told,¡± Zha explained, and then glanced to Bliss. ¡°How was that one?¡±


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°A bit preachy,¡± Bliss shrugged.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­disagree, Zha,¡± Silas admitted, rubbing his forehead between his thumb and the rest of his right hand. ¡°And it sounds almost like a plan. But it isn¡¯t one yet. So what¡¯s our next move?¡±


    ¡°Containment,¡± Zha answered at once. This, she had prepared for and achieved solutions to. ¡°Inquisitor Blackgar has fallen catatonic, with limited to no motor function. Ms. Rock, prior to retiring from our retinue, expressed to me that she believes this to be a result of shock, and should only be temporary. Of course, she had no inkling of the possibility of daemonic involvement, but it is the most medically-informed information we have to go on. However, catatonic or not, Blackgar is still an Inquisitor, and Inquisitors have enemies and duties. I believe he negotiated an out for himself from his duties with Lord Lycia, but that does not mean the prying eye of the Inquisition will not try to ascertain his status. If we are to keep him alive, we must hide him from them.¡±


    ¡°Is that not traitorous?¡± Silas wondered.


    ¡°Depends on who you ask,¡± Bliss answered, and Zha nodded. ¡°The problem with the Inquisition is that every Inquisitor can have a say on things if they want. To us, or to the ordo Chronos? No, not very traitorous. But to some random asshole from Malleus? Possibly.¡±


    ¡°We are advantaged in that we have two Inquisitors to our tally, and can defer greater opposition to the ordo Chronos if asked¡ªand that is likely to be a bottomless rabbit hole, if my efforts have revealed anything,¡± Zha said, expanding on Bliss¡¯s answer further. ¡°But any such advantage is squandered if taken for granted. No, we must remain vigilant in how and where we choose to hide Mr. Blackgar. To that end, I have procured a place of residence in an unassuming locale on a planet elsewhere within Ixaniad. I think it¡¯s best if I do not verbally go into further detail, for the sake of plausible deniability on your parts. Were anyone to pry into your minds to find Mr. Blackgar, I am content to let them need to come to me.


    ¡°Now of course we cannot leave Mr. Blackgar on his own, so the question becomes: Who is to stay with him?¡± Zha suggested. Bliss and Silas again looked to each other. ¡°Mirena Law is all but joined at the hip with him as it is, the two of them grieving with and for each other, in their own ways. But Mirena does not know about Cronos, and it should stay that way, yet we cannot leave the daemon unattended. One of us, and it could be me, needs to stay behind and watch over Mr. Blackgar. To put him down, if all else fails. But be warned: Cronos is active. It sees through Mr. Blackgar¡¯s eyes, and works beyond Mr. Blackgar¡¯s abilities.¡±


    Silas and Zha both expected an immediate contemplative silence, but Bliss instead replied immediately, if with stuttering uncertainty. ¡°I¡­I want to. I do. But I can¡¯t. I don¡¯t think Cronos would let me live.¡±


    ¡°Would it let any of us?¡± Silas asked.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t hurt Mirena,¡± Bliss offered.


    ¡°Mirena doesn¡¯t know about it, though,¡± Zha reminded them. ¡°It¡¯s very possible Cronos doesn¡¯t care to waste its efforts on those that are not a threat to its existence, even if such efforts would impart further agony upon Mr. Blackgar.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re just making that assumption, then, in leaving Mirena with him?¡± Silas clarified. Zha nodded somberly, aware of the moral quandary of throwing Mirena to the metaphorical wolves. ¡°If that assumption is true, it still doesn¡¯t apply to any of us. Why would it let anyone here near to Cal?¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t torture you as it did to me, not in the same way,¡± Bliss said. Silas and Zha both looked at her with confusion stemming from the certainty with which Bliss made her assertion. ¡°Look, putting myself in the mind of the daemon, which¡ªdo daemons even have minds? And isn¡¯t it a bit heretical to think like that? But if I¡¯m the daemon, and I want to destroy each of us as well as Callant, how am I going to do that? Well, Callant is easy: take what he holds dear away from him as brutally as possible, like what happened with Lucene, and could happen to us. I¡¯m certain, in this regard, that the daemon is saving Mirena for last¡ªshe was, after all, the first to enter his retinue. As for me, look at me!¡± Bliss shouted, and sat back, gesturing over herself. ¡°Everything about me is physical. Physically attractive, physically skillful, physically strong. The daemon needed to dominate me in the physical sense, and played into my senses of physical pain and trauma as a result, while letting Callant see me be torn apart. And I mean, it almost worked on me. I still love Callant, emotionally, but I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m terrified of him. I once thought that if it came to blows I could kill Cronos outright; no, I know now, no I can¡¯t,¡± she explained, shaking her head.


    ¡°And as for us? How would you destroy me, then, or Zha?¡± Silas asked her, pointing a finger to himself and to the savant.


    Bliss sighed and stared at him for a moment, and then shook her head again and shrugged. ¡°Guilt, Silas, is how it will torture you. You¡¯re loyal to Callant in the extreme, and we all admire that. The daemon will make you feel like you¡¯ve betrayed him, because that is what would wound you most. I already see it in you. I saw it in that medicae when Mirena punched Zha. You feel guilty about what happened aboard The Finality, and you fear everything after is your fault. It isn¡¯t. You need to know that it isn¡¯t, because the daemon will try to convince you that it is. And it will try hard. As for Zha,¡± she started, and looked to her fellow Inquisitor. ¡°You¡¯ve already described how. Mayhap it¡¯s already begun to torture you. You¡¯re brilliant, Zha, far above anyone I¡¯ve ever known. And yet Cronos will torture you with that which you do not know, and make you feel inept on account of the unknown. It will tempt you with answers and ill-gotten knowledge. It would corrupt you, as Callant once feared might happen to you in Absalom¡¯s Arctoros facility.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t let that happen,¡± Silas shook his head, having made up his mind. ¡°You two are the Inquisitors. You two go¡­inquire. Whatever it is you do. I will stay with my brother, and see him made well. You¡¯re more valuable and potent than I am, and have a better shot at finding a way to kill¡ªor banish¡ªthis frigging monster. And besides, as Mirena was Cal¡¯s first, I was his second. We should both be there for him anyway.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Zha asked of him. He nodded. ¡°The daemon won¡¯t make it pleasant for you.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be pleasant. I owe it to Cal and to the Imperium. And not out of guilt,¡± Silas said, looking back to Bliss. ¡°This is my duty, and I will see it done.¡±


    ¡°You really are the perfect soldier, aren¡¯t you?¡± Bliss replied, and once more, Silas was confident she had regained a smile under that mask of hers.


    ***


    Any movement in the rocking chair was Mirena¡¯s doing, as I still lacked enough motor function to so much as pivot myself back or forth. But Mirena, even at her most patient, was a little ball of energy, uncompromising and uncontrollable. While she sat on my lap, arms tossed over and around me and head resting on my shoulders, Zha gave me a highlevel overview of their plan. She told me that Silas was staying on-site with me to, and I quote, ¡®Keep an eye on things.¡¯ I knew what that meant, even if the phrase was innocuous to Mirena. Zha also told me that Bliss was looking forward to seeing and drinking with me again, and that on that note, a recovery from my catatonia was anticipated, pending psychic interference. Again, I knew what that had meant.


    I never once replied to Zha, even psychically. I could not. Instead, I stuck to staring out at the fields of maize ahead of me, ahead of the cabin that had haunted countless nightmares of mine over the centuries.


    When Zha had left, Mirena leaned even closer to me, and whispered into my ear, ¡°I know you can hear me. Everything will be alright, Cal. I¡¯m here for you, always, and will take care of you, always.¡± She then pulled her face in front of mine, and I could see the scars in her eyes, wounds inflicted from the loss of Castecael in her life. If my eyes could move, she would have seen similar scars in mine. ¡°I love you,¡± she assured me after hanging her face before mine for a moment, a phrase she had said to me on dozens of occasions and yet was uttered then with as much genuine passion as the first time the words had left her lips to me. Those lips then pecked my cheek, after which she smiled, brushed the side of my head with the back of one of her hands, and then pulled her lips next to one of my ears again. ¡°Hardly the first time I¡¯ll be sleeping on your nonresponsive self, Cal. And like the last, I¡¯ll be here until we can share a hug. We¡¯ll get through this night together,¡± she whispered to me, kissed the side of my head, and then snuggled up against me ever more tightly.


    How I wished I could have focused entirely on Mirena¡¯s kindness, or the beauty of her form, or the warmth of her body. Anything to do with her. But I could not. Instead, directly ahead of my gaze, I could only focus on the figure that emerged from the maize, eyes black as night, but otherwise like a mirror of myself. We had held these positions before, but in my nightmares, I had been in its position looking up at myself and Mirena as we sat now. Those nightmares were now made real, yet the remnant of them stood before me still, ever smiling, hands pressed together at the tips of their fingers in a patient shape of a temple.


    It strode forth toward us, and I could do nothing to stop it. Worry not, Blackgar, I will not hurt her, it said as it ascended the cabin¡¯s front steps, and encircled myself and Mirena. Yet, it added, passing a hand through her cleanshaven hair. Your time in my story is nearing its end. You see, this tale was never about you, Blackgar. It¡¯s about me. And I¡¯m not going anywhere. The darkened version of myself then walked across the cabin¡¯s porch to stand next to Silas, who was looking out over fields to the west of us. I don¡¯t think I even need to do anything to this one, either. I think he¡¯s liable to end himself for you. And isn¡¯t that really the whole point?

 Chapter 120 - Voices

    A servant of Holy Terra has fallen.


    This universe is dark and filled with nightmares. I have lived among them for as long as I have known. I have been a nightmare, or so I thought. I have overthrown empires with my bare hands, I have decapitated tyrannical champions of the archenemy, I have visited Holy devastation upon Xenos worlds. I have been involved in the deaths of hundreds of millions, if not billions of mankind¡¯s enemies. I once thought myself great, and worthy of note or remembrance, that perhaps my name might be cause for the dark self-proclaimed-gods of the archenemy to quiver. But it is not the scale, or the quantity of deaths, that draws their ire, but rather the caliber of the person enacting such destruction upon their forces. And if I am great, then Callant Blackgar was legendary.


    I say was, because a servant of Holy Terra has fallen.


    He is alive, still, but I am not so na?ve as to believe that he will ever be who he once was¡ªthe man I had once loved so dearly. I still love him, even as the vile darkness within him has begun to leak out. But I know, deep in my wounded heart, that Callant Blackgar has departed, never to return to the way he was. The legend is dead, the fire gone. How could a man be asked to return to the life that had been after having lost so much, and so brutally? I cannot ask that of him, and I would take the heads of those that might dare.


    And yet, the Inquisition claims its victory. Victory! As humanity rages against the dying of the light! Victory, because Ouranos is dead, slain by Inquisitor Blackgar. And yes, the task therein was an impossible one, that no other man¡ªand indeed, not even me myself¡ªcould have accomplished, not a human, nor Astartes, nor Son of the Emperor, I¡¯d wager. But I am not so foolish as to believe that it was anyone other than Ouranos that emerged victorious, that bastard. Ouranos and Blackgar went toe-to-toe, in a typhonic cataclysm which I can only begin to guess at, and in the end, Blackgar ¡®survived¡¯ and Ouranos perished. But life is not life that is not lived, and Ouranos had always wanted to orchestrate his own demise. The enemy got everything they wanted, and we were left bloodied and broken, for those of us that survived at all.


    This was no victory. This may have been the most crushing defeat the Imperium had ever known, were it not for the fact that we have also just lost Cadia. And yet our daft peers would be so arrogant as to believe in their own triumphs, or that the archenemy was backpedaling from our retributive campaigns. No, the foe meets us head-on, as ever we have faced them so, but now they are beginning to break us. I do not write of this to be a doomsayer or fearmonger, but if I deny myself the recognition of my enemy¡¯s victories, I may as well just throw in the towel and surrender to them now. And I will not give up that easily, destined supremacy be damned.


    Yes, the Despoiler¡¯s plan succeeded. Ouranos has triumphed. It looks as though Cronos is soon to find victory as well. But if Cronos thinks the war is already won, it is destined only to be sorely mistaken. If it costs me my life, and it very well may, I will make the daemon rue the day it chose to torment Callant Blackgar. I do not think I am smart enough to beat the daemon outright; that is where Inquisitor Trantos comes in. But I know I am potent enough to put up a fight, and in that, I will buy Trantos whatever time she needs to learn how to kill the bastard, permanently. Admittedly, I know, as Cronos likely does, that Silas is neither a combative threat nor a strategic one. However, I have also learned not to underestimate the Scion; Blackgar had a habit, it seems, of surrounding himself with the best, and Silas is no exception. Whatever role Silas Hager is to play in what¡¯s to come, I am certain it will be a vital one, to Callant as much as to the Imperium.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Cronos is going to lose. Hard. We three will ensure it, even if it is the last victory mankind knows before the dark takes us all.


    I am so sorry, Callant. I will make this right. You deserve that, and better.


    - B


    ***


    Brothers mine, can you see it? Taste it? Hear it? The Long Dark has ended, and the roar of stars reveals itself to us once more. Our wait is over. Ouranos is dead, and his killers are weak and scattered. Already, my unwitting Agent is in position to commence the next stage of our plan, and I groom a disciple of Iron lest things go awry.


    Let boiling blood run across the skies. Let flesh slough off bone in putrefaction. Let our exquisite creation bloom anew! We are the Chosen of the Divine Pantheon, rightful heirs to Chaos itself! We are the Undivided Cataclysm, and there are none that can oppose the plagued viscera we gift to all reality!


    Lesser races bicker between and amongst themselves of the right to rule. Tired machines wrestle with a hungry maw. Barbarous fungus spreads like vermin across the stars, culled at the edges by the na?ve and the dying. The Empyrean demands the sacrifice of all these trillions, and we must answer, for only within the currents of its vast oceans does true destiny lay. Let our allied envoys among these races draw the ire of their heritage, while we work in thankless shadows to bring them all to the ends they deserve.


    Mordefir, issue our challenge from the Gods. May all who contest it bleed upon your boots and break upon your axes. Lunacius, scout us our most worthy of adversaries for our most perfect sacrifice. Let they be loyal to the false-gods of this land, and ensure their fervor and zealotry unmatched. Galpalos, let us continue our work together, dear bloodkin mine. May our Gift be Everchanging, that it may bestow upon reality the infinite wonders of our birthright.


    On my life as sister to our Cataclysm, I am Veralith, Unmaker of Fate, and our time has come to plunge this galaxy into Chaos eternal.


    For the Empyrean!

 Afterword

    I¡¯ve got a lot to say about the journey to finish Volume 4: Annihilation. Gonna split this one into sections so as to keep things on-topic for myself.


    <ol>


    <li>Annihilation</li>


    <li>Feedback</li>


    <li>Change</li>


    <li>The Road Ahead</li>


    </ol>


    Annihilation


    Have I lost the plot?


    I¡¯ve asked myself that question over the course of writing Annihilation, and I¡¯m still not sure I see the answer. When I began writing this story, the quintessential point of it all was to keep my antagonists human, or some approximation thereof. The very description of this story here on RoyalRoad says this outright. (¡°[¡­] with a particular focus on human villainy, rather than of exterior threats.¡±) The Hestian Quartet was human. The Phaenonites were human. The Iron Warriors may not have been strictly human, but their origins are of mankind¡¯s devilry. And Ouranos was human.


    Cronos and the multicolored quartet that lurks in the Warp, now freed from Ouranos¡¯s prison, are not human. And so I wonder, have I lost the plot? How did we get here? Is this¡­wrong, does it detract from the quality of the story?


    I can answer only one of these¡ªthe how of how we got here. It is on you to tell me whether this change in narrative style and direction is wrong or lessens the quality of the tale. And only time will tell whether the plot is something lost to me. But as to how we got here, well, that¡¯s easy. You see, it¡¯s pretty simple to kill a character off. If I wanted Callant Blackgar dead, as his author I have all the power to do that on a whim. But I wanted more than that¡ªkilling characters is too easy and unimpressive. No, I wanted to destroy Callant Blackgar, which required deeply, truly understanding my own character, and deciding how best to oppose him. And this goal of mine manifested in the form of Ouranos, who shared this ideal and belief, that death was too inconsequential and that Annihilation necessitated a deeper wound. From this, then, I engineered the great tragedy that precedes this Afterword, across the 100+ chapters that brought us here. Throughout this tale, we have seen glimpses of the end, bits and pieces of looming calamity.


    And now the end is here.


    I admit, this would be a natural stopping point, I think. It¡¯d be very fitting for the grimdark universe to cease the storytelling here, with Cronos on the cusp of attaining material awakening and Ouranos¡¯s prisoners on the verge of freedom, to wreak unknowable havoc upon creation anew, all with our protagonists ruined on fundamental levels. This story, a 40k tale, cannot have a ¡®happy ending.¡¯ It will not. If you¡¯re here for that, I¡¯m sorry to say that you should look elsewhere. So the question, then, is do I continue? Do I take this story further, or do I let my readers¡¯ imagination suffice?


    But that¡¯s getting ahead of myself. We¡¯ll loop back to this later in this Afterword.


    Feedback


    While working on the last few chapters of Annihilation, I got into a conversation with a passionate reader of the earlier story of Cronos. There was a lot of back-and-forth discourse about the style and contents of my writing. Suffice to say, this reader did not particularly like the way I was handling things. And that¡¯s fine! People are allowed not to like things, even if I¡¯m the one who made those things in question!


    What isn¡¯t fine is this:


    I¡¯ve said in prior Afterwords and Author¡¯s Notes that this story is not a LitRPG or some community-influenceable piece of fiction. The story of Cronos is set in stone and not going to change much. However, that doesn¡¯t mean I am not open to feedback and am unwilling to make changes to things that feel out of place or don¡¯t work for the story as a whole.


    For any creators out there, I¡¯m gonna let you in on a little bit of wisdom when it comes to feedback: people are pretty bad at providing solutions to problems, but they are very good at pointing out what and where those problems are. When you receive (negative) feedback from your audience, it¡¯s OK to push back on their suggestions and stand up for yourself and your work. (In fact, you should always stand up for yourself) And for any readers out there, when an author is pushing back against your feedback, it is not because they think you¡¯re wrong for having it. Instead, they (the authors) are probably trying to tease out why you feel the way you do about a certain subject. When they know that, they can then act on it to the best of their ability.


    If I, or any other author, just accepted every bit of feedback at face value, not only would the story at hand probably be incoherent, but it¡¯d look like a mish-mash of a bunch of different writing styles and means of storytelling. In fact, it probably would not be far off from an AI-generated piece of work. (Because that¡¯s very literally how the modern consumer brand of AI functions)


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    All this is to say, for Cronos in particular, I welcome and invite any and all feedback you (yes, you!) are willing to provide on the story. I cannot guarantee I¡¯ll necessarily implement your suggestions, but I can guarantee that I will give due consideration about doing so.


    Which brings us to our next section of this Afterword.


    Change


    The user above who wrote me the screenshotted message inspired me to make many changes to Cronos, particularly among the first few chapters of the story. Yes, I appreciate the irony. The form of these changes may result in a few rewrites of earlier chapters or even the addition of a couple preliminary chapters to kick things off. However, a good friend of mine once wrote this to me on Discord:


    And I cannot fathom this outlook, true or not.


    I¡¯ve been a hobbyist author for five years, and a hobbyist writer for twenty. Two decades ago, when I first started really writing, my parents, teachers, and peers constantly drilled into me that ¡°Writing is rewriting.¡± Your first draft isn¡¯t it. You get to iterate, you are allowed to improve. Much of what is here on RoyalRoad for Cronos are my first drafts. And many of these first drafts deserve to be improved to the best of my ability¡ªmy readers deserve my best, after all. Why would I not put in the time to give it to them?


    So yes, I have changes in store for Cronos. These changes are not all going to be new chapters, so I get that it might look like this story is a bit ¡°dead¡± or not being updated. (Which is largely ironic, as just the opposite is true!) But if you¡¯re a longtime reader, I first of all appreciate your dedication to the story, and I encourage you to keep an eye on some of the earlier chapters. Structurally, narratively, and content-ly, I have many changes to make to bring things up to a more capable, deserving quality for the tale at large.


    One of them, for instance, is a reduction in smiling. Did you know that there are 83 ¡®grin¡¯s and 36 ¡®smile¡¯s in Penance alone? Clearly my characters are happy campers. For a grimdark story set in the forty-first millennium, this cannot stand! More seriously, I have gotten more than one instance of feedback about this apparent over-smiling. I intend to go back and at least trim up some of the verbiage involved, if not altogether pruning the mood.


    Another point of feedback I¡¯ve gotten is that I mention, by name, too many characters too quickly in the earlier chapters. This isn¡¯t really something I¡¯m passionate about¡ªI don¡¯t particularly have difficulty with letting characters develop themselves as needed as a story progresses¡ªbut more than a couple of my readers, beta readers included, do care about this. To that end, I am planning on adding an entirely new ¡®Prelude¡¯ chapter to Penance to set the stage for the setting and ease in some of the crew sooner, and to then limit the exposure of names mentioned in Philosophy, the original first chapter of the story. I think this may help alleviate some of this issue for future¡ªand returning¡ªreaders.


    Finally, when conversing with the aforementioned user above (who thought I wasn¡¯t listening to their feedback), I found myself needing to continuously quote myself from other, prior Afterwords about lessons I had already learned. It occurred to me that, to some extent, it might behoove me to write a Foreword for Cronos, too. I suspect it will be fairly similar in scope to the Afterword of Penance, the first Volume. So that¡¯s on the horizon, too. Speaking of the horizon¡­


    The Road Ahead


    I had long periods of burnout while writing Annihilation. It sucked, in short. I did not enjoy my time writing it during these burnouts. I think the big issue for me was keeping to a schedule. That¡¯s just not how I write, yet it¡¯s what I said I¡¯d do for the story. I had said I¡¯d aim to publish one chapter a week, aiming for Fridays, but releasing as soon as they are done regardless. But some weeks, I cannot get a chapter out of me. Some days, I can cram out four back-to-back. Penance, for instance, was written in a month. It¡¯s 10,000 words longer than Annihilation, yet Annihilation took 6 months. That¡¯s just how it be sometimes. And yet, despite this awareness of my natural writing habits, it still felt really shitty to miss a week - or more - which compounded upon itself to further delay and inhibit my writing. It began to feel like I had to write, not that I wanted to.


    Add on the fairly negative discussion with the above quoted user, who¡ªwhile I¡¯ll decline to mention specifics¡ªdid flash in my face my story¡¯s lower viewer/follower count than their own works, and I almost felt like willingly being bullied out of writing my own story. Listen, I¡¯m mature enough not to give a shit about popularity, but that doesn¡¯t mean a relative lesser amount doesn¡¯t make me or the story I¡¯m writing feel unwanted.


    So, yeah. It sucked.


    I¡¯m not asking for sympathy here, I¡¯m just letting you know where I¡¯m coming from.


    All the same, and even though Annihilation is a perfectly viable stopping point, I don¡¯t want to stop. The problem for me is that I know where the story goes. I know what the characters do and what becomes of them. I know who the new characters are. (Spoilers! New Characters!) I¡¯m not just going to wake up tomorrow and forget about the existence of the whole story. I am one day, be it tomorrow or next week or next month, going to write this stuff out. And I figure I may as well share it when I do.


    With that in mind, I invite you all to join me in Volume 5: Renascence, to see if a different kind of protagonist can overcome the horror that is Cronos and thwart the machinations of the Cataclysm. Or, perhaps, this newfound protagonist of ours may prove to be but a pawn of those she is sworn to defeat. And no, her name is not Bliss, nor is it Zha. Even so, rest assured that we have not seen the end of Callant Blackgar or his remaining retinue.


    I would hardly be so merciful.


    <ul>


    <li>Ceno</li>


    </ul>

 Chapter 121 - Salvation

    Lo! Listen, ye¡¯ faithful¡ªhear our tale of the Empyrean immortal!


    Thine world is bless¡¯d, not by false Corpse-Gods, but by our coming.


    We are Cataclysm Undivided, Unabated, Undefeated,


    And we bring forth the generosity of freedom from mortal suffering,


    As there can be no greater liberation than from the coils of worldly life.


    Mark this day, rejoice in this night, for thy world has spun its last.


    `Twas many sunken suns ago when we birthed this fate for our own world.


    Now thy history is ours, entwined and betwixt, and thou shalt be,


    Like us, eternal, remembered by our worlds in rivers of blood and oceans of souls.


    Bask in thy salvation, as we embraced ours.


    `Twas young Mordefir, worlds and moons distant, that first found the Calling Empyreal.


    As Vaktez starved, and lesser wills scavenged, Mordefir hunted, and was hunted.


    The scarred Hound that found him was no feast of meat, but of opportunity scorn¡¯d,


    And Mordefir did feast from it, and grew broad of its might.


    Once returned, shamans of empty guts yet full veins turnt upon boyish Mordefir.


    But the youth was a boy no more, and the first rivers of red did run for Kharnath.


    With skull-adorned belt and his belly filled with the flesh of his tribe,


    For Mordefir had been chosen to bring Empyreal Brass to the Long Night.


    The hunger north of Mordefir¡¯s tribe was one of the mind, yet it twisted in knots as deep.


    Scholars poured over texts they did not understand, seeking light that was not there.


    Yet it was the darkling Raven that found me, and from it a gaze unto fate without limits,


    And I did study from it, and grew keen of its wisdom.


    Once learned, I rallied my fellows, and showed them the truths they sought.


    When their heads had had their fill, `twas then that the fires did light for Tchar.


    And in sapphire glory and eyes newly opened, I set out with the backing of my tribe,


    For I had been chosen to bring Empyreal Flame to the Long Night.


    As fear consumed the fever¡¯d dying in the west, hope was Galpalos¡¯s burden.


    Son of a doctor, brother of mine, young Galpalos sought to cure the inexorable.


    `Twas the bulbous Crow that pecked at flesh decayed that taught him better,


    And Galpalos did witness its cawing sermon, and grew fat of its gifts.


    With vim renewed, Galpalos gave unto his colleagues the same hope we grant you now.


    Freedom from miserable suffering dispensed, the rot did fester for Nieglen.


    Alone but emboldened, Galpalos ventured forth to spread the gifts he had crafted,


    For Galpalos had been chosen to bring Empyreal Hope to the Long Night.


    And in the east, youthful Lunacius was hidden away in ancient, broken sanctuaries.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    But shuddering from the world yonder was not the fate his youth desired.


    A coiled Serpent revealed to Lunacius the possibility of worlds beyond his confines,


    And Lunacius did look upon them with wonder, and grew hungry for more.


    Aspirational Lunacius slew his familial captors, and shattered the walls that held him.


    Sired by a God yet to be, Lunacius struck out into the world ahead in Loesh¡¯s name.


    The young traveler achieved a mastery of survival, and rallied others to his future,


    For Lunacius had been chosen to bring Empyreal Dreams to the Long Night.


    Our origins, entwined with thine, before thy Imperium was conceived of


    By thy baleful Corpse-God, or before He made His deal with our Patrons on Molech.


    We precede He, our gifts older and more potent than thy worship misplaced,


    And yet the beauty of our Gift is that it is the Everchanging, but of singular purpose.


    We liberated Vaktez from the horror of Long Night.


    We free thou, now, from the failure of the Indomitus, the lies of false-prophets.


    Embrace the Empyrean!


    Embrace Chaos Eternal!


    Be emancipated from the limitations of life, for we are the Undivided Cataclysm,


    And such is our Gift, Everchanging.


    Bless¡¯d are you to hear my words, as I am Veralith, Unmaker of Fate, and the doom of all things, alive or dead.


    ***


    Mordefir watched his sister-of-bond as she recited the heavily-paraphrased epic of their mutual origins. Sausage-like fingers twitched at his sides as she recounted his meeting with the Hound. They clenched into curled slabs of meat as she reminded him of his blood-brother¡¯s safety within the ancient walls of captivity, walls which kept the tribes that had taken Mordefir from his family at bay. The tribes that he had then slaughtered. Vaktez was so long ago, but the irony of the situation was not lost on Mordefir¡ªthat it had been he that was kidnapped by the tribes, while Lunacius had longed for the sense of freedom they provided.


    Perhaps that was the design of the Gods. If Lunacius had been kidnapped with the tribes and their parents had hidden Mordefir away, contentedness may have prevented all this from happening. All this being, of course, the exsanguination of countless worlds over the eons, now including the planet known as Foxos VI. But what had happened had happened, and now Galpalos¡¯s Everchanging plague was working its wonders again. The blood would flow.


    Mordefir¡¯s attention had flicked, briefly, to the viewport out of their vessel, toward Foxos VI as the world faded to a deep shade of crimson. But his gaze flicked back to Veralith when he realized that she knew he was there, watching her. She had not said anything about his presence, as though waiting for him to speak. May as well, he thought to himself. ¡°Why do you preach our tale to the dying?¡± he asked her.


    Veralith, previously floating a bit off the deck of their vessel, landed upon her talons before turning to him. Two large, wide, blue eyes looked him over before she curled one of her hands around the front of her chin, holding her head inquisitively. ¡°Because as I have just told them, their fates are now intertwined with ours.¡±


    Mordefir shook his head and tightened the grip of his still-clenched fists. ¡°Their fates end here. They are a footnote in our story, counted among a long catalogue of worlds we have ended, and nothing more.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Mordy,¡± Veralith chided, then hovered herself over to him, moving two of her feather-backed hands to hold each of his cheeks while her other two hands held him by his shoulders. In a way, Mordefir hated her, for how she babied him. Yet in a way, Mordefir loved her, for how she was right to. Among their crew, Mordefir knew he could best Galpalos and Lunacius in single combat if he tried. He also knew that the three of them together would never so much as scratch their sister. ¡°Every life we extinguish in this manner is thrown onto the pile for us to inherit later. Every soul waits for us to splurge upon when we make our final sacrifice, and ascend to godhood.¡± She then turned away from him and gestured toward Foxos VI, albeit keeping one of her left hands on his right cheek. ¡°Yes, in the moment, they are nothing, and becoming even less. But in the future, when we¡¯ve completed our work, they will be everything. Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s beautiful for them, in a way?¡±


    No, frankly, he did not find much beauty in it. Death was death, and it could not be said that any on Foxos VI was enjoying a particularly kind or merciful end. The Everchanging plague sloughed flesh from bone and reduced the living to a slurry of crimson, that the blood might flow free, as was the design for their Gods¡ªperfect, for Loesh; lethal, for Niegling; adaptive, for Tchar; and bloody, for Kharnath. Regardless of the species it was unleashed upon, or the immunities that species had developed for itself, the Everchanging was constant in only one way: the end result. It may have been beautiful if you were a creature of the Empyrean, powered by the release of souls and embodying raw emotion, but Mordefir and his ilk were not¡ªat least, not yet.


    Mordefir said none of this.


    Instead, he turned away from his sister-of-bond and strode across the deck. ¡°I have little time for beauty, and even less time for plans. Such is your realm, sister. Tell me, how fares your Agent? Is she ready to face the Night Daemon?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, but soon. She is where she needs to be, and will be ready for the battles we have in store for her, when the time is right,¡± Veralith assured him, crossing two sets of arms.


    ¡°She had better be,¡± Mordefir said, looking back to his sister. ¡°Cronos is the only thing capable of upending everything we¡¯ve built¡ªthe only thing that isn¡¯t otherwise preoccupied in the galaxy, that is. She had better be ready to end the blasted daemon, or their beautiful sacrifice,¡± he began, and pointed toward the remains of Foxos VI, ¡°will have been for naught.¡±

 Chapter 122 - Utopia

    Fumes of spent fuel, despite being unique and poignant in odor, were confused by Kane¡¯s senses as he thumbed over the Aquila in his hands, the last symbolic remnant of the Guard he had once served. He smelled no form of fuel, but burning flesh, as he once had on his homeworld of Antlas. Burnt flesh was no appealing scent, yet it had been celebrated in the moment as sinners were cast to hell on the stakes before him, cries of heretic and traitor shouted toward the victims of the flames. Such cries may have left Kane¡¯s mouth too, yet now they rung in his ears.


    So much death. So much fire. And what had he done, but run from it?


    Kane¡¯s hands clutched at the wings of the Aquila more tightly.


    He had witnessed the burning of sinners less than a decade and a half ago, and less than six months ago, he, with the assistance of some allies, fled his post to similar effect. Deserter. Traitor. Sinner. But still, Kane believed¡ªor wanted to¡ªin the Imperium. In the God-Emperor. Even though his allies had perished on their journey, and even despite his perceived transgressions against humanity, Kane still thought he could be of use to the Emperor in some way, some day.


    Or, the doubt suggested, perhaps he would just become more of a sinner.


    It was at that thought that his lander finished its journey. Calls went out to begin preparing for departure from the craft. Kane dislodged himself from his seating, but kept the Aquila within his grasp the whole while. It was the only thing he had left. He was not entirely alone; other deserters of Antlas beyond fed into a line in front of and behind him while waiting for the lander¡¯s bay doors to open. Kane was but one of many.


    When the doors did open, a rush of cool air washed through the bay, though it could hardly have been called a breeze so much as a depressurization. Kane¡¯s line began advancing outward, albeit slowly. Someone¡ªor something, Kane realized¡ªwas processing the refugees for admittance. It took until the line advance for Kane to emerge from the lander¡¯s interior and stand atop its lowered doors to make out what was in charge. Kane did not recognize it; the Xenos had a vaguely humanoid shape, but its skin was deep blue, like the seas, and its head tall and thin, flat-faced. An automata of some sort, like a servo-skull but without the skull, hovered near to the Xenos. Such heresies all in one place!


    Two other Xenos flanked the first, though they were much shorter and wider, and were armed and armored in thick plating and heavy weaponry. Their flesh was stern and rigid, as though cut from a slab of stone, and their eyes gazed onward almost lifelessly. They may have been servitors, Kane thought, but there were no apparent bionics embedded in their skulls as was commonplace for Imperial servitors.


    ¡°You! Gue¡¯la!¡± called the blue Xenos, pointing to Kane. Kane snapped back to focus, and pointed to himself. ¡°Sha, yes, you.¡± Kane stepped forward, nearer to the Xenos. ¡°Surname?¡±


    ¡°Kane,¡± he answered.


    ¡°World of desertion?¡± it asked. The words pained Kane to hear, even though he had long known the truth of them.


    ¡°Antlas,¡± he answered again.


    The Xenos flipped through some paperwork in its grasp, then ripped out a page and shoved it toward Kane. ¡°Kane, I., of Antlas. Welcome to Eutophoria. Find work, live your life, keep the peace. Go on ahead. Next!¡±


    Bewildered at the interaction, Kane nevertheless moved where his legs brought him, and walked past the trio of Xenos further ahead. He realized he was following the thinner stream of those in the line before him, now a greater distance apart from one another. Those ahead of him guided him across a landing platform and through some storage crates rearranged into a sort of checkpoint, after which a long road extended beyond into a city unlike any Kane had ever seen. Lights of all colors beamed out from all directions, bouncing off glass and Xenos material; it was as busy as a Hive, but not nearly as drab as the Pax Imperialis regulated.


    Kane gripped his Aquila more tightly still, and walked on ahead toward the city.


    A foreboding presence loomed in the backdrop behind Eutophoria, Kane realized. It took a moment for him to process what it was, but soon enough he connected the dots: a black hole sat some immeasurable distance behind the artificial city. Eutophoria was surely not within the beast¡¯s event horizon, but the space and stars in the skyline above and behind the metropolis curved and bent back. Kane imagined that this was very intentional for Eutophoria¡¯s placement¡ªit likely made it harder to find by those zealous enough to want to destroy the coexistent-habitat.


    Find work, live your life, keep the peace, Kane thought to himself, echoing the Xenos¡¯s words. How was he supposed to do any of that? Once in the city proper, Kane found it quite busy. Xenos of all sorts and sizes lined its streets, as well as a good many humans, including some abhumans. Signage for shops and businesses adorned the infinite hall on either side of him, some of the text in Lower Gothic, most of it not. While scanning the new world around him, a sight caught his eyes, and he embarked to the edge of an alleyway to get a better look. Sure enough, Kane confirmed what he thought he saw: a fight club, of sorts, in the lower backstreets behind and beneath the main road of Eutophoria. A greenskin of some size was fighting another of the diminutive sort of Xenos that had flanked the blue one that had welcomed Kane to the city. The shorter stunt, by all accounts, was proving the superior fighter, and quite handedly at that, yet the greenskin seemed to be overjoyed for that. So much for keeping the peace, Kane thought, and turned around to return to his journey down the main road.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    And in so doing bumped into a creature much larger than he was. Shit! he thought to himself, and spun on his heels to attempt to apologize, but was taken aback by the nature of the being he had bounced off from. Human, most certainly, and feminine, yet far taller than he was. Defining features could not be well discerned on account of the long, crimson cloak the figure wore, which obscured much of her body and head, yet an Eviscerator of great size was stashed on the figure¡¯s back. ¡°My, uh, apologies, miss,¡± Kane stammered out.


    The figure turned its gaze to face him, and while Kane could not make out her face from under the cloak, Kane did note that gold light seemed to shine out from where the figure¡¯s eyes would have been. ¡°Worry not, Ishmael Kane, the Emperor is with you yet,¡± she said, and then turned to continue on her way.


    Kane stood stunned for a moment at her reply, and then forced out, ¡°Wait, you¡ªwhat? Wha¡ª¡± He tried, and then jumped in place as a hand slapped onto his right shoulder from behind him. ¡°What!¡± he shouted in surprise at the man behind him.


    ¡°Get inside, lad, quickly! Dorn¡¯s teets, you must be new here, ain¡¯t¡¯cha?¡± the man said, urging Kane within a nearby building.


    ¡°But she¡ª¡± Kane protested.


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s very captivating. That¡¯s her problem. You don¡¯t know any better yet,¡± the man pressed, all but shoving Kane indoors. The establishment was, at last, a familiar sight: a bar, of sorts, albeit with all manner of drinks and seating arrangements that were clearly made for more than merely humans. The man led Kane to a seat at the counter before encircling around its other side, apparently the bartender.


    ¡°What is it I don¡¯t know?¡± Kane demanded, of half a mind to rush back out to the streets and question the woman he had bumped into.


    ¡°Not to mess with things you don¡¯t know anything about,¡± the man replied, then extended an augmetic hand out toward Kane. Kane took and shook it, noting that the man had a great deal of augmetics over his body, coupled with a general lack of hair upon what remained of his skin. Neither of the man¡¯s eyes were biological. ¡°Name¡¯s Cornelius. There, you know something about me. Let me see your papers.¡±


    ¡°My¡ªoh, right,¡± Kane understood, and turned over the paperwork he had received from the Xenos before entering Eutophoria. Cornelius took the pages and scanned them over.


    ¡°Ishmael Kane, homeworld Antlas¡ªsorry thing that, I heard about it on the news¡ª, served with the Guard for nine years. Mmm, better than average,¡± Cornelius mused, then looked to Kane and sized him up. ¡°You¡¯re still in your prime.¡±


    ¡°Is that a question?¡±


    ¡°Can you fight?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Kane nodded.


    ¡°Can you shoot?¡±


    ¡°As far as I know,¡± Kane shrugged. Cornelius paused, continuing to assess Kane¡¯s being. ¡°What¡¯s this all about?¡±


    ¡°You need food, a place to stay, and something to do. I need a bouncer,¡± Cornelius answered.


    ¡°What happened to your last one?¡± Kane wondered.


    Cornelius paused in his reply, then said, ¡°He didn¡¯t bounce.¡±


    Well, that could mean anything, Kane thought. Then he said, ¡°I don¡¯t imagine I¡¯d be able to keep from interacting with things I didn¡¯t know much about as a bouncer.¡±


    ¡°Aye, bit of a conundrum there, ain¡¯t it?¡± Cornelius agreed, then reached under the counter and dropped a stub revolver on the table between them. ¡°It¡¯s not loaded, though I do have ammo for it. Can get you a knife too. There¡¯s a room upstairs, though it¡¯s far from spacious. I¡¯ll feed you on the house, but uh, you¡¯d pay for your own drinks, and only off-duty of course. Interested?¡±


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s¡­that¡¯s very generous,¡± Kane acknowledged. But that was no confirmation, and he sat to think about it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Cornelius said, interrupting Kane¡¯s thoughts.


    ¡°Yes, what?¡±


    ¡°My previous bouncer died on the job. You served in the Guard, so you know that your life is never a guarantee. Eutophoria is safer than anything you¡¯ll have seen in service, sure, but piss off the wrong Xenos, and¡­,¡± Cornelius started.


    ¡°I won¡¯t bounce,¡± Kane understood. Cornelius nodded. ¡°Right. Can you teach me?¡±


    ¡°Teach you what?¡±


    ¡°What I need to know,¡± Kane said, and gestured around himself, referring to Eutophoria and all the Xenos in it.


    ¡°Some. The rest you¡¯ll have to learn on the job, if you¡¯re any good at it,¡± Cornelius said.


    Kane nodded. ¡°That woman?¡±


    Cornelius shook his head and sighed. ¡°That woman is not one you want to get involved with, ever. Luckily, she does not give patronage to establishments such as mine, so that shouldn¡¯t be an issue. I don¡¯t know much about her, other than that she¡¯s bad news. Rumors and gossip say she¡¯s a thousand years old, but surely that can¡¯t be true. Trust me kid, when it comes to her, just don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I get it,¡± Kane lied. No, the woman had left him in a pool of curiosity. But curiosity was known for killing cats, especially those that would not bounce. ¡°Yes, thank you, Cornelius, I¡¯d be happy to put my feet down somewhere. Here¡¯s as good as anywhere.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit, kid,¡± Cornelius laughed, then reached over the counter and patted Kane¡¯s shoulder again. ¡°Eutophoria¡¯s more than anyone can take in all at once. Don¡¯t even try to. But it¡¯s your home now, and listen¡ªeveryone is here because they don¡¯t have anywhere else to be. Everyone outside those walls is disillusioned with their peoples¡¯ empires and by their propaganda. Everyone¡¯s gotten off that lander and strolled down that road alone at some point, human or Xenos alike. Most of them mean well. You feel alone right now. But you aren¡¯t. You¡¯ll learn that, in time.¡± Cornelius reached under the counter again. ¡°Here¡¯s the key to your room. Up those stairs, second door on the left.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Cornelius,¡± Kane said, and rose to leave, key in hand.


    ¡°Kid,¡± Cornelius called back to him before he got anywhere. Kane turned back to his new boss, who then nodded to the counter, where the stubber and Kane¡¯s paperwork laid. Kane laughed to himself and nodded, and took both into his possession before retiring to his new abode. It did not occur to Kane until his eyes were shutting in bed later that evening that he did not yet even know the name of the bar he was now working for.

 Chapter 123 - Surrogate

    To say that there was a lot to learn on Eutophoria would be a colossal understatement. For instance, of the linguistics and slang of Xenos species, mostly of the Kin and T¡¯au, who Kane soon learned were the original founders of Eutophoria in the first place. Eutophoria was built by the Kin as a mobile mining colony, but was lost (intentionally or otherwise) to their Ancestor Cores and so became an independent mercantile installation. Upon contact with some semi-disillusioned members of the T¡¯au¡¯s Water Caste, an agreement of neutrality was formed, and the rest was history.


    Despite that shared history, however, the most populous species on Eutophoria was humanity. It turns out that mankind both creates many members of its species, and that its central authority¡ªthe Imperium¡ªis very good at driving a good chunk of those members away from its pious and unforgiving infrastructure, especially when faced with the realities present in the rest of the galaxy; that was, after all, how Kane had arrived in Eutophoria, and indeed, his case was not an unusual one. If nothing else, this helped Kane settle in a bit more easily, but even other humans, disparate and scattered through the cosmos as they are, are capable of having significantly different societal and cultural norms. And this was to say nothing of the humans¡¯ varying degrees of faith in the Imperium they had once belonged to. So integrating with the human population on Eutophoria was easier for Kane, but not easy.


    There were other, if rarer, Xenos present on Eutophoria too. Among those that Kane already knew of were the rare Eldar, who beheld humans such as Kane with the same respect¡ªor lack thereof¡ªthat the Imperium would urge of them in return, and the greenskin that Kane had witnessed partaking in a fight club. These were perhaps the rarest species; Kane saw very few Eldar on Eutophoria, and only that singular greenskin. Others, identified by Cornelius, such as the Jokaero or Naiad, were more common than the Eldar, but still a rare sight. Curiously, despite the thorough investigative processes of imported goods and peoples by the T¡¯au, there also appeared to be a not-insignificant rat population on Eutophoria; Cornelius knew not where they came from or how the infestation had arrived. More curious still, the Kin insisted on being alerted to any such sightings, yet refused to elaborate on what they knew of the rats or why they were important.


    Which is all to say that there was a lot to learn. But Kane was settling in, and to him, it began to seem as though he had found a worthy and worthwhile home.


    Alas, nothing lasts forever.


    ***


    There was an ebb and flow to the rate of patronage of Cornelius¡¯s establishment¡ªanother thing Kane learned, and quickly at that. It could not be said that there were ¡®days¡¯ or ¡®nights¡¯ on Eutophoria, on account of there being no localized star and no axial rotation of the installation. However, there were certain waking hours more popular than others, and they tended to be later in one¡¯s daily routine.


    Which is why, when a loose crowd of civilians began rushing down the main road Kane had ventured upon during his initial foray on Eutophoria, Kane knew something was amiss. Cursory inspection of their faces and voices suggested panic. ¡°Hey, boss,¡± Kane, sitting at Cornelius¡¯s counter, called to the latter. Cornelius perked up from addressing a customer¡¯s order, and Kane nodded toward the front door.


    Cornelius noted the unusual behavior that Kane had picked up on. ¡°Go check it out. Mind yourself,¡± Cornelius said. Kane nodded again, rose from his seat, and strode outside into the crowd.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Kane said to the first passerby that ran past him, though that did little to garner any attention over whatever it was people were running from. ¡°Hey!¡± he repeated to another, reaching out and grabbing someone¡¯s arm. They tried to smack Kane¡¯s grasp away, but Kane insisted: ¡°What¡¯s the deal?¡±


    ¡°Konrad¡¯s pet got loose!¡± the civilian¡ªhuman¡ªreplied, and hurried away from Kane.


    ¡°Who the hell¡¯s Konrad?¡± Kane called, but no response came, save for a guttural growl some distance down the road. It sounded like a beast alright, and Kane, for a moment, dreaded to face whatever had conjured the noise. But, he reasoned, better to have some idea of what was going on then not. So, with minor hesitation, Kane gingerly spun amidst the last remnants of the crowd to face the creature, and found it familiar: the greenskin he had spied in the back-alley fightclub from his initial arrival in Eutophoria. It was reddened, now, and as it dropped half of a corpse to the ground, it was not hard to figure out why.


    On instinct, Kane¡¯s right hand slid toward the stubpistol holstered on his waist, until the greenskin turned its gaze to him, after which he froze. There were still other civilians around, too; a shootout in the open streets of Eutophoria would hardly have been ¡®keeping the peace.¡¯ But the greenskin had seen him, and seen his movements toward his weapon, and that seemed to suffice to garner its attention. ¡°Youz!¡± it shouted down the road. ¡°Wit¡¯ da shoota!¡±


    Kane was not ashamed to have run back inside Cornelius¡¯s bar. ¡°Boss! Door!¡± Kane called to Cornelius, requesting the keycard that would seal the front doors shut. Cornelius did not question his bouncer, and, with haste, reached into his front pocket and tossed the keycard across the bar. Kane snagged it out of the air, spun on his feet to swipe the keycard past the encoded scanner, and took a step back from the entrance of Cornelius¡¯s establishment. That was all that could be managed before a green fist broke Kane¡¯s nose, stopping from cleaving his head clean off by the bar¡¯s doors closing upon the greenskin¡¯s upper arm.


    ¡°Why¡¯z youz runnin¡¯? Runnin¡¯ ain¡¯t fightin¡¯,¡± the greenskin taunted as Kane squirmed deeper inside the bar. It then wrenched the doors open, breaking them on their hinges, and stepped inside. It then made a low growling noise as it surveyed the room, Cornelius¡¯s patrons backing away from the creature. ¡°Ehhh¡­none of youz lookz good for crumpin¡¯¡ª¡®cept fer you, shoota,¡± it suggested, pointing toward Kane, who was by then clutching at his bloodied face.


    ¡°Not me, then?¡± Cornelius asked, and in a flash slid a shotgun up from behind the counter and took aim at the greenskin. The beast ducked before Cornelius fired a shot, and the next thing Kane knew, his waist was being hoisted into the air by his belt strap. Cornelius, much to Kane¡¯s gratitude, did not riddle the latter¡¯s backside with buckshot, though Kane¡¯s backside did subsequently slam against Cornelius¡¯s front counter as the greenskin tossed him forward. Cornelius ducked to the side to try to get an angle on the beast past his bouncer¡¯s flailing body, only to narrowly dodge a knife thrown by the greenskin. It clinked off¡ªand scratched¡ªthe bionics attached to Cornelius¡¯s right eye and embedded itself in the wall behind the counter, and though the attack was not lethal, there was enough weight behind it to knock Cornelius off-balance during his movement. Cornelius fell behind the cover of the counter, getting a glimpse at the knife as it embedded in the wall; it was the one he had given to Kane, which meant the greenskin had taken it from Kane¡¯s waist and thrown it at Cornelius faster than either of them were able to witness.


    The first shot went off, then, from Kane¡¯s stubpistol. It clipped the greenskin on its left cheek, making a scratch but not drawing fungal blood. ¡°Now dat¡¯s more like it!¡± the greenskin shouted, enjoying some action. ¡°You humies are¡ª¡± it started, but Kane was not there to chat, and unloaded a few more times, this time landing his shots square in the greenskin¡¯s chest. All penetrated the greenskin¡¯s hide, but not punctured the bone beneath.


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    ¡°Gun!¡± Kane shouted to his boss as the greenskin lurched toward him, arms forward. Kane reached behind the counter to grasp the butt of the shotgun without turning to face it, and in one clean motion, whipped its barrel forward and pulled the trigger, moments before the greenskin clubbed him to death¡ªor worse. Again, the blast ripped apart the greenskin¡¯s chest yet did not punch through its bones, but this time there was enough kick involved to at least knock the Ork onto its backside away from Kane. It started to get up, until Kane shot it in its chest again, further pinning it against the ground, after which Kane pressed toward his enemy for once.


    ¡°Knew you wuz a¡ª¡± the greenskin laughed as it struggled to remove itself from the ground, but never finished its sentence before Kane wedged the barrel of the shotgun between its front fangs and pulled the trigger a third time. The buckshot went up the base of the greenskin¡¯s skull and ricocheted around its braincage before finally managing to rupture out, decapitating the beast in a particularly gory execution. At that, finally, the greenskin went limp.


    After a brief pause of awe, Kane found the patrons of Cornelius¡¯s establishment cheering and thanking him for (likely) having saved their lives. To Kane, however, he interpreted the cheers as though he were the victor of a bout in a fight club, which was perhaps what the greenskin had wanted for itself. ¡°Kid,¡± Cornelius called to him, and he turned to face his boss. Cornelius waved him back to the counter, and in the meantime addressed his customers. ¡°Y¡¯all best scram before the Peacekeepers arrive,¡± he told them. They agreed and filed out, thanking Kane again as they left. When they were gone, Cornelius turned to Kane again, taking the shotgun from his hands. ¡°Seems you can bounce after all.¡±


    ¡°My backside wasn¡¯t happy to learn that,¡± Kane groaned. ¡°That sorta thing happen often around here?¡±


    ¡°Never. Let me see that nose,¡± Cornelius said, and drew a towel from under the counter. ¡°This¡¯ll sting.¡±


    ¡°It already stings,¡± Kane shrugged. At least, Kane thought it already stung. After Cornelius wedged it back into place, he found it stung quite a bit more. Cornelius handed him a bottle of amasec to wash the pain down.


    ¡°Well, we had a good run of it, didn¡¯t we?¡± Cornelius suggested. ¡°Three months, eh?¡±


    ¡°What, am I fired?¡± Kane asked, appalled.


    ¡°No!¡± Cornelius shouted at once. ¡°No, no, kid, I¡¯m not firing you. But I¡­I won¡¯t be able to run this place for a bit, if ever again.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Kane asked. Cornelius nodded toward the dead greenskin lying in the middle of the room. ¡°And here I thought my heroism would be good for business, not bad for it,¡± Kane shrugged.


    ¡°Oh, it would be, under ordinary circumstances. But uh, alas, you made a mess. I¡¯m not blaming you for that, of course¡ªwhat, a mess or our lives? Yeah, I¡¯ll take the mess,¡± Cornelius laughed. ¡°You know much about Orks?¡±


    ¡°Guard wanted me to shoot at them, not know about them,¡± Kane shook his head.


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re pestilent buggers. Their blood will need to be cleaned up, and I don¡¯t mean with a mop and some water. Otherwise, it will grow into more of `em. The Imperial approach is fire¡ªlots of it. Our kind would burn this whole building to the ground just to be sure,¡± Cornelius laughed. ¡°Thankfully the Kin and T¡¯au have some more discreet cleaning crews, but they¡¯ll need to be thorough, and while they work¡­well, we won¡¯t be able to be here. Keep the piece,¡± he said, pointing to Kane¡¯s stubpistol. ¡°Ha, get it? Keep the peace? Ah, whatever. If you find possible employ with other humans, I¡¯ll put in a good word for you¡ªmy word¡¯s not likely to mean much outside our kind, though. And keep the bottle, too,¡± Cornelius suggested.


    ¡°I¡­shit. What a day. Was a smooth week until now, huh?¡± Kane noted.


    Cornelius nodded. ¡°When it rains¡­¡±


    ¡°It pours,¡± Kane agreed. ¡°Will I see you again after today?¡±


    ¡°If I can keep this place, I will, and you¡¯re more than welcome to picking things up with me where we left off,¡± Cornelius said. ¡°You best leave, too, before the Peacekeepers show, unless you want to be answering questions with a short, stout, and dry-witted Xenos for the next twelve hours.¡±


    Kane nodded, paused, and then reached over the counter. Cornelius took his hand and shook it. ¡°Thanks, Cornelius. For everything. We did have a good run of it.¡±


    ¡°Yes we did, kid, yes we did. Watch yourself out there. It¡¯s a big universe; try not to be swallowed up in it,¡± Cornelius warned.


    ¡°Same to you,¡± Kane nodded, and rose from the counter, body still sore from being clobbered around by the greenskin on the ground.


    ¡°Mind your step, kid,¡± Cornelius added, which Kane acknowledged, giving a wide berth to the greenskin¡¯s gore as he headed toward the busted-doors of the establishment. Kane paused at the doors, looked back to Cornelius, and waved goodbye. No response came; Cornelius was already picking up the pieces of some glasses that had shattered in the panicked ruckus, and did not see Kane as he left. Somehow, that felt right to Kane; Cornelius had kept himself busy as often as he could. Perhaps that was his means of surviving on Eutophoria or the universe in general. Kane thought to learn from that example as he went outside.


    He did not like what he saw standing across the street opposite him. He looked to his left, and saw no one on the once-panicked street. He looked to his right, where the greenskin had come from, and saw naught but the corpse it had left behind. Kane looked back ahead, and confronted the figure that awaited him. ¡°You watching me or something?¡± Kane shouted, stepping up to the tall, crimson-cloaked woman. Her face was still obscured behind the cloak, though the glimmer of gold continued to tease out from under its veil.


    ¡°Perhaps. You are amusing, Ishmael Kane,¡± she answered.


    ¡°How do you know my name?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I see it written on you in blood, as I see it for all things,¡± she replied. ¡°That will not make sense to you.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t, you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I often am.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m so entertaining to watch, why didn¡¯t you help with the greenskin?¡± Kane asked her.


    ¡°Perhaps that was the entertainment, Ishmael. And besides, you did not seem to need it. May I?¡± she asked him.


    ¡°May you what?¡± he winced.


    ¡°Your face.¡±


    ¡°What of it?¡± he frowned again.


    ¡°It is painful, no?¡±


    ¡°The price of your entertainment,¡± Kane grumbled.


    The woman shook her head. ¡°I take no joy from seeing others in pain. So, I ask, may I assist with it?¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Kane asked. She did not reply with words, and instead lifted a hand up out from her cloak. It was stygian black, like a suit of power armor, but appeared as though fleshy all the same. She reached up to Kane¡¯s head, and though he recoiled, he found himself too curious to step away. Gold light glimmered from the tips of her fingers and spread across his visage, and when his face warmed, he then found it within himself to back away from the woman. ¡°What in the hell did you¡ª?¡± he started, tossing his own hands up to his face. But, despite the warmth still present, he found the pain had gone, and his nose had healed entirely. In fact, the splotches of blood on his face had been cleaned away too, as though he had never bled in the first place, and even his backside had been cured of its soreness. ¡°Witchcraft,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°You are not the first to fear as such. You would not be the first to lash out from those fears, either,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°To fear what you do not understand is natural, but to kill what you do not understand is entirely an Imperial construct. You are no longer of the Imperium, Ishmael Kane.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said the Emperor was with me yet, when we first met,¡± Kane suggested.


    ¡°I did, and He is still, yes,¡± she nodded. ¡°The Imperium is not its God, and vice versa. Ask.¡±


    ¡°Ask? Ask what?¡±


    ¡°The question you mean to ask.¡±


    Kane paused. Then he opened his mouth to speak, but paused again. He then stepped forward, nearing her as he had before, and asked, ¡°What is it you want with me? I¡¯m clearly more than your entertainment.¡±


    ¡°I want someone willing to fight for something better than fear.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s better than fear?¡±


    At that, the woman loosed a chuckle, and Kane had to admit to himself that her laugh was quite soothing. ¡°Hope,¡± she answered. ¡°You served such a role in defending the hapless from that greenskin who, in a plane without you, would have slaughtered your tavern and more. Are you willing to fight for hope again? If so, follow me, Ishmael Kane.¡±


    Kane paused for a third time as the figure walked away to his left, down the still-empty road of Eutophoria, toward the black hole that loomed in the horizon. ¡°I¡¯m not working for someone whose name I don¡¯t know,¡± Kane called to her, turning toward her backside. He spied some initials carved into the hilt of the Eviscerator she carried on her back, but could not make out what they were.


    The woman stopped in her step, chuckled again, and then turned halfway toward him. ¡°The name¡¯s Luciene. You will have other questions. I will answer them, in time, should you choose to join the cause of hope.¡±


    Kane thought about it, but his feet chose to move before he made up his mind.

 Chapter 124 - Crew

    ¡°When I had recommended you find additional members for a prospective crew, it was not my intent for you to fetch another of the Mon¡¯keigh.¡± Luciene had lead Kane through roads plenty enough to make him doubt the judgment of his curiosity in her. But, at last, she guided him into an apartment complex, within which he now stood before a tall, slender Xenos of trimmed, dark hair and pale complexion, clothed in white and green robes. Eldar. Cornelius had already given Kane enough to go on to identify the species at a glance, including the lexiconic use of the Xenos¡¯s pejorative. What Kane could not immediately identify was the nature of the amulet-held rune the Eldar wore; a gilded red heart, atop the apex of a golden but foreign sigil.


    ¡°You had recommended I find someone with some heart and some fighting experience,¡± Luciene replied, and then gestured to Kane. ¡°Ishmael Kane, this is Zaer, formally of Biel-Tan. Zaer, Ishmael,¡± she introduced the pair. She then looked to Kane properly. ¡°He¡¯s always abrasive at first.¡±


    ¡°And not for nothing,¡± Zaer added in agreement. ¡°You can fight?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, I served in the Guard¡ª¡± Kane stammered out, but Zaer interrupted him.


    ¡°Indicative only of your capacity to be a meat-shield for a zealously murderous species, not of your personal strengths and aptitudes,¡± Zaer protested, crossing his arms.


    Luciene turned back to Zaer in Kane¡¯s defense. ¡°And yet, he is the one to have slain Konrad¡¯s pet when it broke its chains and killed its master.¡± Zaer raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and otherwise did not change his stance. Luciene looked to Kane again. ¡°That¡¯s about as good a reaction one can get out of him, but he has as great a distaste for Orks as I do, so he¡¯ll come around.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡± Kane asked. Luciene cocked her head to the side, confused by the question. ¡°Well, you¡¯re enigmatic in many ways, yet seem to have earned enough respect from this Eldar as to receive¡ªand be willing to act on¡ªits advice. Yet you do not favor greenskins?¡±


    Zaer snorted. ¡°The Mon¡¯keigh is perceptive, if nothing else, Lucy,¡± he admitted, and revealed a deep-enough relationship with Luciene as to have found a nickname for her. ¡°Greenskins are Arakhia, children of destruction. They do not add to the universe, only replace with themselves where they can, and remove from existence where they cannot. And to them, peace is anathema. It is from this genetic aberration that Lucy and I divine our disdain for the species,¡± Zaer explained. ¡°In any event, welcome, Ishmael Kane, to following in the footsteps of this¡­siren,¡± he said, opening his arms to gesture to Luciene. ¡°You are not the first to have found her oddities captivating.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Xe¡ªZaer,¡± Kane answered, and felt as though he ought to have bowed, but hesitated, and then leaned into that hesitation and did not follow through with the gesture. It appeared not to matter, and if Zaer was offended by the lack of bowing, such offense did not add to the Eldar¡¯s pre-existing scowl.


    ¡°See? Knew you two would hit it off,¡± Luciene chuckled, and as before, her laugh eased some of Kane¡¯s worries. It also seemed to disarm and loosen up Zaer. ¡°Come along, Ishmael, others for you to meet,¡± she said, and set off deeper into the apartment. Zaer gestured to his side, inviting Kane to follow her. Kane did not need the Eldar¡¯s invitation in that regard. ¡°Ask,¡± Luciene said shortly after Kane followed in her footsteps.


    ¡°You saying that is going to get annoying,¡± Kane grumbled.


    ¡°Good, that¡¯s the point. Ideally, you¡¯ll ask your questions as they come to mind, and not hesitate. No one has time for hesitation,¡± Luciene replied.


    ¡°What do you need me for? Zaer recommended someone with heart and combat experience, why?¡± Kane asked.


    When his questioning had finished, Luciene stopped at a closed door and turned to face Kane, leaning against the doorframe in the process. The resin creaked against her weight, but supported her and the great weapon on her back. ¡°This universe bleeds. War rages in every corner. I, and the others here with me, aim to staunch the blood loss where we can. It is for that purpose that having a heart matters most. But there will be fighting. Orks may be genetically opposed to peace, but most major empires¡ªyour Imperium included¡ªabhor the concept to their very cores. I do not aim to topple the Imperium¡ªor any empire, for that matter. We cannot be everywhere, so we must settle for the small victories we can attain, but through those victories, the goal is to bring hope to those that need it. Do you understand, Ishmael?¡±


    Kane nodded.


    ¡°Good. You have met our scout already,¡± Luciene suggested, pointing the way they had come, toward Zaer. ¡°Now let me introduce you to our armorer.¡± She then waved a hand over the door¡¯s panel, prompting the way inside to open. Luciene stepped in first, leading Kane up behind a figure that was hunched over a desk, soldering some electronics together. Kane wondered how such alien species could intuit the nature of the Machine Spirit, yet he knew his eyes did not deceive him. ¡°Are you busy?¡± Luciene called to the hunched figure.


    ¡°Always,¡± it answered, voice gravelly.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you to another client,¡± Luciene said.


    The figure sighed, finished what it was doing, and then set its tools aside and spun around on its bench to face them, wearing a protective mask and still-concealing its visage. Though Luciene wagged a finger upwards to tell the figure to raise its mask, Kane already knew the creature was of T¡¯au origins; its pale-orange garments were decorated with the same symbology¡ªthat of a circle atop a descending line¡ªthat adorned most of the T¡¯au infrastructure and personnel Kane had seen elsewhere.


    And indeed, upon lifting its mask, a blue face stared back toward Kane and Luciene. One of its eyes was missing, replaced with what Kane would describe as an augmetic not unlike Cornelius¡¯s, albeit much more subtle. ¡°Ishmael Kane, this is¡­,¡± Luciene began, and then sighed. ¡°Remind me, how do you prefer to be introduced?¡±


    ¡°I am Fio¡¯Ui Kor¡¯tal Kor¡¯Kassan. Pleased to make your acquaintance,¡± the T¡¯au said, and extended a hand for Kane to shake. Kane did so, but shot Luciene a glance. She nodded in agreement¡ªyes, this T¡¯au¡¯s name was a mouthful. ¡°You can call me Kor¡¯Kassan, as all the rest do,¡± the T¡¯au suggested, observing the silent conversation. ¡°May I see the piece?¡± he asked, pointing to Kane¡¯s waist. Kane nodded and lifted the stubpistol Cornelius had given him into the air, handing it to Kor¡¯Kassan, who inspected the weapon. ¡°Hm. Rudimentary, even by gue¡¯la standards. I can do better. You will also be wanting protection, I assume, as those rags you wear do not seem adequate. A simple phase padding should suffice without weighing you down,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan suggested. ¡°That is, if you want any of this,¡± he said, and handed the stubber back to Kane.


    ¡°I¡­,¡± Kane began, and looked to Luciene while he holstered his weapon, who nodded. ¡°Sure?¡±


    ¡°Luciene will recommend you speak with greater certainty in the future,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan replied. ¡°But I¡¯ll see you fitted and kitted. Is he a warrior?¡± he asked Luciene, who nodded again. ¡°More than phase padding then. You¡¯ll want Fio¡¯tak too, the whole ordeal. That can happen. Helmets are trickier to come by, though; at least, those with proper modules installed, anyway.¡±


    ¡°I confess, you¡¯ve said a lot to me and I understand very little,¡± Kane admitted.


    Kor¡¯Kassan loosed a grin. ¡°Not atypical for warriors,¡± he said, and then grinned wider and let loose a small laugh. It sounded rough and forced from the T¡¯au, as opposed to the welcome nature of Luciene¡¯s. ¡°My name, I suspect, and the body armor I have referenced, being the points of confusion? The armor is simple¡ªI will fashion for you inner and outerwear not unlike those of my kind¡¯s Fire Caste. My name is indicative of the fact that I am not a combat unit like yourself; I am of the Earth Caste. In your tongue, I am Kor¡¯Kassan, Senior Wisesky of the Kor''tal Sept. These words may still mean little to you, I suspect. But know that they imply that I am at least passably capable in my field, as hopefully you are in yours.¡±


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    ¡°He is,¡± Luciene confirmed.


    ¡°Well of course he is; he got past Zaer, didn¡¯t he?¡± Kor¡¯Kassan suggested, clapping a hand onto Kane¡¯s right shoulder. The gesture reminded Kane of Cornelius. ¡°Hard bastard, that one. But not for nothing.¡±


    ¡°So he says,¡± Kane nodded.


    ¡°Indeed. In any event, a pleasure to meet you, Ishmael Kane. I will see to it that you are armed adequately and granted proper protective wear. Alas, I must return to my prior project,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan said, and gestured behind himself.


    ¡°Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you,¡± Kane said, and this time bowed on instinct, which was more than Zaer received.


    ¡°Pleasure¡¯s mine,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan agreed, and tipped his mask back down and returned to work.


    ¡°Easier than Zaer,¡± Kane muttered to Luciene as they began to leave from Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s workshop, Luciene leading the way.


    ¡°Most are,¡± she nodded, chuckling again, but then turned back to Kor¡¯Kassan, stopping the pair in their tracks. ¡°Oh, Kor, you had recommended Kotak, yes?¡±


    ¡°The Unbroken, yes,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan replied without turning to face her. Luciene nodded to herself before returning to guiding Kane throughout the apartment.


    As they left Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s room, Luciene said to herself, ¡°I suppose, by now, I could have taken this down.¡± She then pulled her hooded cloak back, revealing her head. She was fair of hair and face, and as Kane suspected, her eyes glimmered in gold.


    ¡°Your hand was black, when you healed me,¡± Kane said, noting the disjointed coloration between her hand and her head.


    ¡°Yes. If I knew why, I would tell you,¡± Luciene shrugged.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know everything about yourself?¡±


    ¡°Perilously little, in fact,¡± she winced, and shook her head. ¡°Am I human, do you think? I have not known.¡±


    ¡°I¡­yes? I would have guessed so. Does Zaer¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Zaer has his suspicions as to what I am, but he does not share. And while I can see your pasts, I cannot see your futures, which includes a possible future in which he speaks his mind,¡± Luciene explained. Then she chuckled again. ¡°How¡¯s that for irony? The Eldar do love to speak their mind on all things, save for me, it seems.¡±


    ¡°There are rumors about you, you know,¡± Kane started.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there are,¡± she laughed.


    ¡°Some say you¡¯re a thousand years old. Is that so?¡± Kane asked.


    Luciene stopped at another closed door in the apartment. She looked to Kane, smiled, and answered, ¡°Older.¡± She then lead Kane inside the room where, much to Kane¡¯s comfort, a human woman was found reading some magazines that Cornelius had stocked in his bar on occasion, laying on her back upon a bed. Kane had never looked inside such magazines then, and he doubted he would have an opportunity to do so now. ¡°Busy?¡± Luciene asked, grinning, of the woman.


    ¡°Very. Can¡¯t you tell?¡± the woman replied, drooping the magazine to look over its edge at the entrants to her room. ¡°Charmed another victim, have you?¡±


    ¡°Something like that. Ishmael Kane, meet Nessa Myr,¡± Luciene introduced them. ¡°Nessa, Ishmael. She doesn¡¯t bite,¡± Luciene added, noting Kane¡¯s reluctance to step nearer to Myr. ¡°Anymore.¡±


    ¡°Good one,¡± Myr rolled her eyes, and then sat up properly before setting her magazine aside and rising to her feet. ¡°I¡¯m the combat expert of Luciene¡¯s little crew. You wanna know how to break someone¡¯s skull, human or not, you come to me,¡± she introduced herself, then looked Kane over. ¡°You¡¯re ex-Militarum.¡±


    ¡°You can tell?¡± Kane asked, eyebrows raised.


    She shrugged. ¡°You carry yourself as such. You also have the instinct to be hesitant in my presence, because you sense a killer. Good instinct to have in this universe. Worry not, I won¡¯t harm you. Much. Unless Luciene asks me to.¡±


    ¡°Which I will not be asking for,¡± Luciene clarified.


    ¡°How is someone like Zaer taking combat lessons from a human like us?¡± Kane wondered aloud.


    Both Luciene and Myr smiled, but it was Myr that proposed an answer. ¡°I¡¯m from Fervious,¡± she said, as though that was supposed to mean something to Kane. It did not, and he evidenced as such. ¡°Feudal World in Calixis. Known for its Death Cults.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Kane understood, and in understanding, visibly grew more uneasy than he had been already.


    Myr held her hands up defensively. ¡°Relax. I¡¯m not that anymore, just like you¡¯re not Militarum anymore. And Zaer is no longer of the Biel-Tan, nor Kor¡¯Kassan a member of the Earth Caste. Get used to that. No one here on Eutophoria is what they once were. They can¡¯t be. Somehow, that goes for Luciene, too, though what she was and what she is are both up for debate, as I¡¯m sure she¡¯s made you aware.¡±


    ¡°Recently,¡± Kane replied, glancing to Luciene, whose grin widened. Yes, it had been very recent indeed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be in for a bit of a culture shock in the immediate. Nothing to be done about that. Probable panic attacks in the near future. Only natural,¡± Myr shrugged. ¡°If I can assist with your acclimation in some way, or otherwise ease your looming hysteria, seek me out. Afterward,¡± she started, and turned to Luciene, ¡°I expect you want me to train him.¡±


    Luciene nodded. ¡°See what he knows already, and pick up from there. He has just slain an Ork in close quarters, so he is not without some experience.¡±


    ¡°Impressive. And sure to win you some points with Zaer,¡± Myr acknowledged.


    ¡°Nessa is, if you¡¯d believe it, the friendliest and most welcoming of my crew thus far,¡± Luciene explained to Kane. Myr, meanwhile, both blushed and winced, clearly not ready for the compliment. ¡°And since leaving her Death Cult, she has never eaten anyone, isn¡¯t that right, Nessa?¡± Myr scowled further. ¡°Right. Well, that¡¯s the crew. Your room is the one between Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s and Nessa¡¯s. I must consult with Zaer on a private matter, so this is where we part ways, Ishmael. But if you need of me, or have further questions, I will try to make myself present,¡± Luciene explained to Kane.


    ¡°I, uh, thanks, Luciene, for taking me in. I think,¡± Kane answered. It had been, for him, a long day, and there was not much left in the tank to keep him mentally equipped for curiosity. So when Luciene left, he did not follow, and stayed, awkward, in the entrance to Myr¡¯s room.


    Until she approached him, that is, after which he tensed up and took a step back. ¡°Easy,¡± Myr said softly, and shook her head. Every instinct inside Kane told him to run from her, but in truth, he sensed no malice from her, and logically speaking, it seemed unlikely Luciene would have gone through all the trouble of introducing him to everyone only to throw him to the metaphorical wolves. When Myr had stepped up to Kane, he looked away, which she corrected by placing two fingers on his chin and directing his head toward hers. ¡°Fear is Luciene¡¯s enemy. You must learn to defeat yours as well. Face me, Ishmael Kane, and take me in, for all I am.¡±


    It was not as though she gave him much of a choice. So, he took her in, looking her over.


    Nessa Myr was dark-skinned, albeit not in the stygian-blackness of Luciene¡¯s hand, but in the traditional human sense. Her hair was black as well, and kept to a short trim. Her eyes were wide, sharp, and blazed in a hue of amber. She stood about to Kane¡¯s height, and had a form for combat, sleek but knotted with muscle, not unlike Kane¡¯s. These similarities, despite their other differences, allowed Kane to ease up and quell his fear of her, if only just. ¡°Good,¡± she smiled, and then clasped Kane¡¯s head in her hands. Her grasp was not tight, and in fact seemed almost motherly to Kane, which is probably why he allowed it to continue without jumping away from her again. She held his head for a moment, and then drew her hands down his head, down his neck, onto his torso and spread out onto his arms. ¡°Feeling you up. Apologies, culture shock, I know. A remnant of my time on Fervious. We were¡­I suppose the term is ¡®intimate.¡¯ Yes, we were intimate. You must be willing to be intimate to get close enough to kill someone effectively,¡± she shrugged, and then moved one of her hands through Kane¡¯s. ¡°I would not ask you to, though it has been a long time since I have felt another upon my body.¡±


    Kane frowned. ¡°Is that¡­sorry. Is that a literal thing or a sexual one?¡±


    Myr laughed, and shook her head. Hers was a laugh as inviting as Luciene¡¯s, though it revealed teeth sharpened for the ripping of flesh from bone. ¡°It was intended to be literal, yes, though I suppose both are true. They say there is sex aplenty among the stars. I have my doubts, yet¡­well, we all arrived in this universe one way or another, didn¡¯t we? And¡­hm. Carnal desires of the flesh are not repressed on worlds such as mine. Yet I think it unwise, for you, now, to engage as such,¡± Myr said, and put a hand over Kane¡¯s heart. ¡°Stress and pain are going to set in. They must be mediated first, before they are exacerbated in sex. You must adapt to everything you can, as there is everything on Eutophoria, and there will be more in service to Luciene. Then, with adaptation, and if you desire it, perhaps you could fight me for it,¡± Myr shrugged, apparently uncaring about her bodily use.


    Yet fear returned to Kane at the prospect of fighting a former Death Cult assassin, as well it should. It spread across his face once more, which was exactly why Myr slapped his cheek, and not lightly at that. ¡°Ow! What the hell?¡± Kane shouted, successfully jumping back from Myr.


    ¡°Ah! See how anger and violence overpower fear in an instant!¡± Myr observed, pointing and laughing at Kane. ¡°This is something Luciene has struggled to accept. She wishes for peace to replace fear, which is admirable, but na?ve. Get some rest, Ishmael Kane. I think I¡¯ll enjoy you. Kudos to Luciene for having fetched me a playmate such as yourself,¡± Myr chuckled. ¡°But I do mean it¡ªif you find yourself ever in a moment of panic, now or five years ahead, seek me out. I will provide for you what grace I am able.¡±

 Chapter 125 - Pilot

    Kane¡¯s panic attack struck him in the middle of the following night, denying him a well-fought rest. He suffered it alone rather than turning to the carnivorous¡ªalbeit warm¡ªembrace of the former Death Cultist. Still, Myr knew of his suffering. Not only was Kane still visibly tired the following day, but she had sniffed out the scent of his stressed sweat overnight, her nose tuned like a hound¡¯s on a trail. She regretted his decision not to come to her, but did not voice as such; Eutophoria was meant to be a place where regrets could fade away.


    Yet following his predicted-for panicking, Kane fell into Luciene¡¯s crew¡ªparticularly under Myr¡¯s wing¡ªwell enough. No one proved as welcoming a substitute for Cornelius, he found; Kane felt as though Luciene¡¯s patience could not have been as boundless as she let on, and that at some point she might grow tired of babysitting him as he acclimated up in Eutophoria. He had no evidence to back up his hunch, and knew it may have originated from his own skepticism borne of the Imperium¡¯s cynicism. But all the same, it was a pessimistic view he still worried may come to be.


    Luciene, meanwhile, had other things on her mind than the youthful worries of her latest recruit.


    ***


    Giant pillars of glass pulsated with the blue glow of arcing lightning as vast energies transferred from their apexes to their nadirs. Every now and then, an arc would strike the side of its pillar, and while it did not penetrate through the glass, the heat would incinerate the air on the other side, creating a small patch of singed oxidation which slowly faded away, like a hot breath on a cool window. Luciene watched this process with some wonder, unaware of why these pillars existed in the first place, or why Kotak the Unbroken had taken up station in their vicinity. But regardless of either unknown, she was present¡ªalongside Zaer and Kor¡¯Kassan¡ªto meet with Kotak. Their host, however, proved absent.


    ¡°Leave it to the offspring of humankind to be late to their own meeting,¡± Zaer said, the disdain on his voice as palpable in the air as the low buzz of electricity which kept one¡¯s hairs on end.


    ¡°The offspring of humankind?¡± Luciene queried.


    Zaer waved a hand dismissively and winced. ¡°I doubt the Leagues or the Imperium would remember as such. Shortlived races are not known for keeping a good history of themselves,¡± Zaer answered.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like Kotak to miss a meeting. Perhaps we should leave and attempt communication at a later time,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan suggested. Luciene frowned and shook her head.


    ¡°You may leave, if you wish. But this time and place was set by our host, and I shall remain to parley, regardless of the wait,¡± Luciene said.


    ¡°As unflappable as ever,¡± Zaer noted with an unseen roll of his eyes.


    ¡°I do not soon intend to leave your side, Luciene,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan assured her.


    ¡°Nor do I,¡± Zaer added.


    ¡°I know,¡± she said with a soft smile, and held her arms together behind her back, keeping her head up. Zaer stepped away, albeit not far, and crossed his arms in a visible display of impatience. Kor¡¯Kassan, meanwhile, continued to stand by Luciene¡¯s side, and simply folded his hands together at his front, under his waist. The trio held their ground for longer still. Luciene entertained herself with her view of the arcing lightning. Their hue of blue reminded her of her patron, whom she had not seen in some time. Not since arriving at Eutophoria. Luciene worried not whether her patron remained alive after the many centuries that had passed, but rather wondered how she was doing, and where she may have been at present.


    The lightning arcs held no answers for Luciene.


    But the memories of the past did help to pass the time in the present, and soon enough, the clanging of metal far ahead and to her left suggested to the trio that they were about to become a quartet. Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s hands unfurled to fold up behind his back, as Luciene had been holding herself. Luciene, meanwhile, took on a more neutral stance, neither so noble nor uptight as her prior positioning suggested.


    Zaer remained impatient, and off to the side.


    ¡°Apologies, gentlemen and lady, for my tardiness,¡± grumbled a low and gravelly voice¡ªlower and gravellier, even, than Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s. Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s tone was passably alive, but the voice that spoke now sounded as though to have come from a stone, emotionless and not too apologetic. Its owner approached them slowly, albeit not out of caution. The being was small, about half Luciene¡¯s size vertically, yet sturdy¡ªbuilt like a rock indeed. If Luciene needed to describe the shape of this figure, the word that came to mind for her was ¡®rotund,¡¯ though she kept herself from saying so. The creature was not fat, persay, but its blue, plated armor was thick and, given the being¡¯s shortened stature, gave it a rounder silhouette.


    ¡°It¡¯s entirely unprofessional for a first meeting,¡± Zaer¡ªaudibly¡ªmuttered.


    ¡°It is quite alright,¡± Luciene said immediately afterward, approaching the figure which she dwarfed, and extended a stygian arm out for the creature to shake. It did so, but held his grasp upon her afterward.


    ¡°Kotak,¡± it introduced itself plainly. ¡°You¡¯re the enigma.¡±


    ¡°So they tell me,¡± Luciene admitted.


    Kotak let go of her hand at last. ¡°You¡¯re polite. You shouldn¡¯t be. I have kept you here for an egregious span of time. You should take offense to that, as that pointy-eared one does.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Zaer shouted, unfurling crossed arms and tensing up.


    ¡°Do not be the sort that is taken advantage of, enigma,¡± Kotak continued. ¡°Assert your presence in the universe, lest it swallow you up and forget about you. Be bold.¡± Kotak turned to his right. ¡°Fio¡¯Ui Kor¡¯tal Kor¡¯Kassan, it has been some time.¡±


    ¡°Master Kotak,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan nodded, bowing slightly. Luciene had already been made aware that Kor¡¯Kassan was once this Demiurg¡¯s apprentice, long before she had whisked the T¡¯au off for her own purposes. ¡°I hope you have been well.¡±


    ¡°I have.¡± Kotak then returned to facing Luciene. ¡°You seek a ship.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Luciene confirmed.


    ¡°A ship will bring with it a pilot. Do you have a racial preference?¡± Kotak asked.


    ¡°Non-greenskin,¡± Zaer interjected. Kotak glanced to Zaer, but looked to Luciene for approval. She nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Their vessels could hardly be considered anything more than scrapheaps anyway. You have a racially diverse group here. I may have just the pilot looking for a crew such as yours. However, if I am to introduce you to one another, there would be a string attached,¡± Kotak explained.


    Luciene shrugged. ¡°Just one?¡±


    ¡°A job. Which I suspect you want anyways. We can discuss it now, or after you have made contact with your prospective pilot.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the gig?¡± Kor¡¯Kassan asked. Again, Kotak moved an impassive glance toward Luciene¡¯s ally before returning his gaze to her. Again, she nodded in approval.


    ¡°It is a longtime tradition of my Kin to harvest resources from the guts of the Great Devourer¡¯s bioships. Ordinarily, we would do this of our own impetus; however, the Kin here on Eutophoria are an independent, isolated colony from the League Cores. A tendril of the Devourer has breached remote Imperial space and been defeated, but its carcasses remain. Eutophorian Kin wish to harvest this tendril. The job is defensive protection, and to ensure we can make the journey there and back without a tail that reveals this colony¡¯s location. There may be Devourer stragglers, Imperial scouts, or Drukhari raiders. If I can give you a ship, I will ask you use it to ensure the success of this mining operation,¡± Kotak explained.


    ¡°To protect an entire mining operation from hypothetical forces like that would take quite the ship,¡± Zaer noted. ¡°We were thinking something small.¡±


    ¡°It is small, as far as ships capable of sailing the sea of stars go. But it is capable. And fast. Do we have an accord?¡± Kotak asked, again turning to Luciene.


    Luciene extended her hand again. ¡°We do, good Demiurg. Who is this pilot, and where can we find them?¡±


    ¡°Their name is Zet, and you can find them loitering about Deck 6. I will send word that you are coming, if you wish to make haste today,¡± Kotak suggested. Luciene nodded once more. ¡°It shall be done. Enigma, be warned: you will be of interest. Zet will not attempt to harm you, but I can guarantee you will fascinate him.¡±


    ¡°I have that effect on most I meet,¡± she shrugged. ¡°I do not imagine it will be a new experience for me.¡±


    ¡°I would not bet on that,¡± Kotak shook his head. ¡°Will there be anything else, enigma?¡±


    ¡°There will not.¡±


    ¡°Then meet your pilot. He has awaited a crew for some time, and has already been briefed on this mission should he find those willing to fill the confines of his vessel,¡± Kotak declared, and without a word, turned to leave from the same place he had entered the scene. Luciene thought to bid him farewell, but looked to Kor¡¯Kassan, who shook his head. Kotak had no tangible investment in further discourse, and all involved had been given everything they needed to proceed. There was nothing more to say.


    Save, of course, for when Luciene turned to Zaer, who at last eased up in his tension as he approached his partner. ¡°You will be displeased with what I am about to ask of you,¡± Luciene warned him.


    ¡°You do not wish me to be present in your initial meeting with Zet,¡± Zaer asserted.


    Luciene nodded. ¡°You are not the most diplomatic, Zaer.¡±


    ¡°That is putting it mildly,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan muttered in agreement.


    Luciene continued. ¡°I will also ask you to fetch Kane and Myr from our abode, that the whole crew might be present before Zet at once.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to babysit and play tour guide for the Mon¡¯keigh,¡± Zaer grimaced. ¡°Surely the T¡¯au is better suited for the job; they at least get along with one another.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may, you get along well enough with who you know, and you do not know Zet. I need Kor¡¯Kassan to inspect the technologies of this vessel we are about to see, to judge whether it is up to the task Kotak has put before us.¡±


    ¡°I can judge¡ª¡± Zaer started.


    ¡°Yes, you can be quite judgmental,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan interrupted him, smirking, and earned a sneer from the Aeldari.


    Zaer heaved in and out a single, large sigh, and then raised his hands in exasperation. ¡°If this is what you wish, Lucy, I will oblige. Your judgment is ever sound.¡±


    ¡°It is. Fetch our mutual friends, will you?¡± she asked of him, implying that the humans were friends of the Aeldari. It was a tall and meaty implication. But so, too, was Zaer¡¯s faith in Luciene. It would take more than a pair of humans to shake his loyalty to her.


    ***


    Eutophoria was a busy place. To traverse its city streets was to lose oneself in a cacophony of travel as hundreds, if not thousands of footsteps pounded the ground in disharmony. Yet this was not the case for the hangars of the city, as few within Eutophoria had craft of their own from which to depart, or the license to do so. When Kor¡¯Kassan and Luciene arrived on the platform for Deck 6, they did so alone. And it was there that Kor¡¯Kassan felt as though he was traveling astride a ghost. He had witnessed it firsthand in the past, but Luciene carried herself with such grace as to travel without making a sound. It was an eerie thing, and if not for her welcoming charm¡ªperhaps cynically identifiable as an ¡®allure¡¯¡ªeven the wizened T¡¯au may have been spooked from solitary travel with his partner.


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    As they ventured across the empty and shadowed darkness of Deck 6, both Kor¡¯Kassan and Luciene began to feel as though they were being watched¡ªnay, observed. Studied. Whatever eyes had set upon them were wielded with an analytical, prospecting nature. Luciene, for all her virtues, had not the patience to be someone¡¯s lab rat, and after a few moments aware of her being examined, halted in place and extended an arm past Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s chest, suggesting he stop as well. ¡°If I fascinate you so, Zet,¡± she called, ¡°I must be even more interesting up close, no?¡±


    ¡°You cannot know the degree to which you entertain, enigmatic one,¡± came the reply. It seemed to come from everywhere, audibly, and nowhere, physically, and seethed of a slithering tone. Neither Luciene nor Kor¡¯Kassan had heard vocal tonnage quite like it, and while Luciene kept her composure despite this novelty, the T¡¯au did not. ¡°Your representative of the Greater Good¡¯s Earth Caste seems to be losing his nerve. I think you and I prove too much for him.¡±


    ¡°He will manage,¡± Luciene said, speaking with such confidence as to instill some back into Kor¡¯Kassan. ¡°Though I question whether my patience will last until you decide to reveal yourself.¡±


    Though largely absent of illumination, what little light was present on Deck 6 flickered thrice. Each time it did so, the shadows seemed to warp into different angles, until at last, after the third flicker of the lights, a green pulse emerged from a wrinkle in reality before the pair, short and swift as lightning, and just bright. When the flash had passed, a figure stood before Luciene where it had not before, hunched over in a deep black cloak, as opposed to the crimson one Luciene was, as ever, clad within. Both she and the figure were only revealing their faces, and the new figure¡¯s seemed to be hidden still behind a metal mask. Green orbs of light twinkled in the vacuous eye sockets of the mask, the figure staring as emotionlessly toward Luciene as Kotak had not long ago. ¡°Satisfied?¡± the figure¡ªZet¡ªasked, and when it spoke, a spattering of green light emerged from the mask¡¯s creased mouth.


    ¡°For now. Are you?¡± Luciene returned.


    ¡°Far from it,¡± Zet admitted, and leaned to the left and right while keeping his mask¡¯s eyes locked with Luciene¡¯s, sizing her up from all angles. Zet was large. Of their group thus far, Luciene had been the tallest, just barely edging out over Zaer¡¯s height. But Zet, standing before her now, already stood to match her, despite the hunch he possessed. ¡°You glisten with life.¡±


    ¡°I will choose to take that as a compliment,¡± Luciene said.


    ¡°It was.¡±


    ¡°Good. Kotak told us you were a pilot. Where is your ship? We wish to inspect it, which my fellow here can accomplish whilst you ogle me further,¡± Luciene suggested, gesturing to Kor¡¯Kassan. Kor¡¯Kassan waved meekly, visibly in horrified awe of the new creature standing before him.


    Zet¡¯s head tilted to and fro. ¡°Ogling implies a sexual view. Do not take this the wrong way, enigma, but that is not my interest in you.¡±


    ¡°No offense taken. But I will ask you address me as Luciene henceforth, not enigma. Your vessel?¡± she repeated. Zet nodded and gestured wide, revealing a large metal hand, covered in an armor that matched his face. The glimmer of green lights briefly revealed itself from within his cloak as well. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°Small?¡± Zet admitted, and loosed a chuckle. It was an unnatural thing, like a pre-recorded message of falsified, forced humor. ¡°Yes. Sorry. That is my personal craft. It is known as a Scythe among my people. You are welcome to inspect it as you wish, though it cannot house a crew such as yourselves, and I assume you have other allies yet.¡±


    ¡°Something tells me you already know I do, and that you¡¯ve seen and studied them without my¡ªor their¡ªconsent,¡± Luciene replied, crossing her arms. ¡°You have a larger vessel? I would not assume Kotak thought to waste our time.¡±


    ¡°Indeed I do,¡± Zet nodded, and produced the same arm from within his cloak again, this time holding a green, semi-translucent cube in its grasp. ¡°I hide it within this, a Tesseract. It is¡­much too large to harbor here within this city. Kor¡¯Kassan is welcome to inspect it from within.¡±


    ¡°I never introduced myself,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan replied.


    ¡°Oops,¡± Zet shrugged, uncaring. Luciene had already called him out on the matter anyways. ¡°In any case, if you so desire an inspection, T¡¯au, I can send you in.¡±


    Kor¡¯Kassan turned to Luciene with eyes pinched halfway shut and one eyebrow raised. ¡°Frankly, Luciene, if this¡­entity¡­speaks the truth of the nature of that cube, I suspect its vessel will be such a technological marvel to me that I will not be able to discern its capabilities much at all.¡± He then turned back toward Zet. ¡°Though I confess a budding interest to investigate all the same.¡±


    Luciene nodded toward Zet. ¡°Send my compatriot in, then. But know this, and know it well: if I do not see or hear from Kor¡¯Kassan in five minute¡¯s time, I will drive you through, and no vast tech-sorcery or feeble wordplay will save you.¡±


    ¡°I shall hope your fellow does not trip and bump his head, then,¡± Zet chuckled; again, from him, it was a grating expression, and kept even Luciene on edge. ¡°Just as I can pull you in, T¡¯au, I can remove you from my vessel on demand. So do not be alarmed by a sudden change of locale,¡± Zet explained, and Kor¡¯Kassan nodded and shrugged, inviting Zet to send him on a journey. Zet depressed the bottom surface of the cube while holding it toward Kor¡¯Kassan, and in an instantaneous flash of light, three became two.


    ¡°What is it about me that so fascinates you?¡± Luciene asked at once, as soon as they were alone together.


    ¡°You are alive,¡± Zet answered.


    ¡°Is that so rare?¡±


    ¡°Not as common as one might expect,¡± Zet laughed again, mask still expressionless. ¡°Yet it is not only that there is life within you, but without, too. You exude it. I have never known someone to possess a life so vibrant as to fail to contain it within themselves. Many of my kind would seek to study you. Word of advice: I would not volunteer oneself for their eyes.¡±


    Luciene grunted. ¡°I am on the verge of regretting volunteering myself for yours.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Touch¨¦!¡±


    ¡°If you do not mind me asking, what kind is it that you are a part of, if formerly so?¡± Luciene asked.


    Zet cocked his head to one side, some form of mechatronics whirring beneath his cloak in the process. Then he shrugged and righted his head. ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    Luciene shook her head. ¡°If you do not wish to tell me, I will not pry. So no, it doesn¡¯t matter. But I get the sense there is something beneath that mask of yours that I have not seen before.¡±


    ¡°That is truer than you know,¡± Zet replied, and while there was a touch of knowing irony on his voice, there was also a deeper somberness, as though spoken with a degree of longing. ¡°And you? What is it beneath your cloak, or beneath your skin?¡±


    Luciene stared at the lifeless green lights Zet hid his eyes behind. Was there an easy answer for him? She drew a blank.


    ¡°You do not know, I take it,¡± Zet suggested. Luciene admitted as such with a nod. ¡°People do adore a good mystery,¡± he noted, and extended two armored hands toward her, palms up¡ªhis right still possessing the cube that Kor¡¯Kassan remained within¡ªwelcoming Luciene¡¯s presence before him. It was from such a position that his left hand contorted and shot to extend two fingers, thick slabs of metal as they were, further to Zet¡¯s side. The motion was robotic in nature, sudden and jerky, but precise, and caught Luciene off-guard. Luciene traced Zet¡¯s extended arm to its end, where four razor-sharp and white-hot discs were held in suspended animation just before Zet¡¯s fingers. And laying far beyond those discs¡­ ¡°A friend of yours,¡± Zet observed, still facing Luciene rather than his aggressor.


    Luciene, meanwhile, had turned away from Zet, all but enraged. ¡°Zaer! What the hell?¡± she shouted toward him, who stood still, aiming through the scope of his Shuriken Catapult for Zet¡¯s head. Kane and Myr stood behind the Eldar, shaking their heads, apparently having no part of Zaer¡¯s plans to assassinate their potential new pilot. ¡°I knew you were shite at diplomacy, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Get away from it, Lucy!¡± Zaer yelled back. ¡°Whatever it¡¯s told you, you cannot trust one such as it!¡±


    ¡°Ah, a zealot of Biel-Tan, how fun,¡± Zet muttered, then stood upright for the first time since initiating their meeting, and stood a foot and a half taller than Luciene in the process. ¡°Have you failed to count, Aeldari? Where do you suppose your sixth is?¡± Zet taunted him, and raised the hand holding his Tesseract higher.


    Zaer tightened the grip of his rifle. ¡°Bastard,¡± he hissed.


    Luciene paused, aware that she was not understanding the nature of the strife between Zaer and Zet, but also aware that it needed to end. ¡°Release Kor¡¯Kassan, Zet,¡± she commanded of him.


    ¡°Not with a Shuriken weapon pointed at my skull, no,¡± Zet answered. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I did not intend to take him hostage, but now that the need to have one has manifested, I do not intend to lose my bargaining power so soon.¡±


    Luciene turned back to Zaer and gestured for his weapon to be lowered. ¡°I can¡¯t do that, Lucy. Not in its presence. As much as you and I may hate the Arakhia, that thing behind you is far worse, because unlike greenskins, its kind has a history of some intelligence.¡±


    ¡°Some?¡± Zet asked, offended. ¡°Which of us is it that brought a rifle to a parley?¡±


    ¡°And I am not regretting doing so,¡± Zaer answered.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Luciene declared, and stomped a foot into the ground with force enough to crack the plating beneath her feet. Zaer already knew she was strong, but Zet did not, and his interest in her only escalated higher. ¡°Zaer, you will lower your weapon and come over here peacefully, or I will go to you and rip your little toy in half. And you, Zet, you will join Zaer in explaining to me where my fellow¡¯s feud is coming from, as you two seem to have recognized each other well enough from a single glance.¡±


    Myr bumped an elbow into Kane¡¯s side, and the latter looked to her. ¡°Mommy¡¯s angry. Doesn¡¯t happen often.¡±


    ¡°Leave it to the Eldar to manage that,¡± Kane replied.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Zaer sneered, but did as Luciene commanded, and approached the pair warily. As he neared, his rifle only just barely lowered its aim toward the ground, while Luciene noted some visible fear on her partner¡¯s face. Whatever Zet was, Zaer believed his fears were justified. But as Nessa Myr was drilling into Kane, fear was something Luciene sought to defeat through means other than hatred.


    Luciene turned to Zet, who otherwise was staring into Zaer¡¯s face, the two refusing to look away from the other. But she was sure he was aware of her presence still; she had been too captivating for him thus far. ¡°Kor¡¯Kassan,¡± she demanded of him.


    Zet lifted the Tesseract higher, and again depressed its bottom edge. Zaer winced as light flashed from it, but nothing happened to the Eldar. Instead, Kor¡¯Kassan manifested into space near the trio, unharmed, but without his bearings. ¡°Bloody disorienting, that is. Yes, there¡¯s a ship in there and¡ªoh. It¡¯s turned to shooting,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan observed. ¡°Classic. I didn¡¯t understand a single thing I saw in there, Luciene, but I suspect you have bigger issues currently,¡± he suggested, seeing the staring contest between Zaer and Zet.


    ¡°Join our friends away from here,¡± Luciene said, and Kor¡¯Kassan was happy to oblige and distance himself from the scene. ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°Before we answer her¡ª¡± Zaer started.


    ¡°No!¡± Luciene yelled at him.


    ¡°¡ªdid you serve in Heaven?¡±


    Zet chuckled, and as it had for all others, his laugh proved to unnerve Zaer. ¡°Oh, my na?ve child, there is not one among my kind that did not.¡±


    ¡°Then you are damned,¡± Zaer hissed.


    ¡°Moreso than you can imagine,¡± Zet agreed. He then turned to Luciene and lowered himself before her, assuming a bow. ¡°My apologies, miss Luciene. I have not intended to lie to you, but I have withheld the truth in failing to clarify your assumptions about me. I am¡­not alive, not as you know it. And this, err, ¡®mask¡¯ I wear¡ªwell, you flatter me. But it is no mask,¡± Zet explained, then stood upright again, and in the process shrugged off his cloak. Even Luciene¡¯s jaw fell open at the sight of the internally-illuminated skeleton that stood before her then. ¡°I am a Nemesor of the Necrontyr¡­or, I would be, if the Necrontyr remained.¡±


    ¡°Nemesor,¡± Zaer muttered, then shook his head. ¡°Of which Dynasty?¡±


    ¡°None,¡± Zet answered.


    Zaer shook his head, dissatisfied with the answer. ¡°That cannot be.¡±


    ¡°Are all on Eutophoria not what they once were?¡±


    ¡°But your command and resurrection protocols¡ª¡±


    ¡°Have been severed.¡±


    That, at last, gave Zaer pause, and he even lowered his rifle entirely. ¡°It is a trick.¡±


    ¡°I do not often rely on cheap deceptions, young Aeldari.¡±


    ¡°Lucy,¡± Zaer turned to her, as though seeking guidance. ¡°This creature is too dangerous. I cannot advise we spend any further time with it.¡±


    ¡°It has a name,¡± Zet muttered.


    Luciene ignored the Necron for the moment, and addressed Zaer¡¯s comment. ¡°More dangerous than me?¡±


    ¡°I¡­no. No, not more than you. But for all your years, you are a newborn whereas it is ancient. If you give it even one chance, it would kill us all in a moment,¡± Zaer protested.


    ¡°I think I have given Zet multiple chances to do so,¡± Luciene suggested.


    ¡°But to be on its own ship¡ªI¡­it¡¯s unthinkable, Lucy. It¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are you afraid?¡± she asked him, and placed a hand on his left shoulder.


    Fear. Belief. Zaer understood the power of both, as the Exarchs had taught him so. Yes, Zet terrified him; a Nemesor outmatched him in every way, though he would never admit as such to Zet¡¯s face. But Zaer was not fearful of his own wellbeing, but that Luciene¡¯s crusade to eradicate fear, and to stand in defiance of it, would see her doomed. No, that was not quite it. Zaer was afraid he believed that was the case; he feared he did not believe in her enough. ¡°I am.¡±


    Luciene nodded, understanding, and then turned to Zet. ¡°Apologize to my friend.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Zet said, and would have likely snorted, had he the throat to do so.


    ¡°Whatever it is that stands between you two, I will not have it. He is afraid of you. You will give him reason not to be. That, or you will find another crew, and I can assure you they will not be as fascinating as I am,¡± Luciene answered.


    ¡°I am certain that is true,¡± Zet said, but otherwise paused, and regarded Zaer. Zaer wondered what Zet could apologize for, if even the Necron would do so. A Nemesor was so high up in Necron society, and all Necrons were egotists to begin with. To expect one would humble themselves before an old enemy was as unthinkable as volunteering to step upon a Necron¡¯s ship and expect to survive. And, yet, Kor¡¯Kassan had done so. But when Zet materialized a great staff, affixed with a scythe¡¯s hyperphase blade at its end, Zaer expected that both he and Luciene were about to be bisected with their next heartbeat. Instead, Zet used his grip on the staff to seamlessly fall to one knee before the Eldar. ¡°4,193,¡± Zet said. ¡°Such is the tally I have taken from your species in eons past. But on penalty of terminating my lifeless existence, Zaer of Biel-Tan, I hereby vow I shall not claim another, you or others of your kin, unless commanded to by your voice, or hers. I am sorry that our kinds once ignited the stars and bloodied Heaven itself. I cannot even shift blame unto my ancestors for that. But I cannot alter the past¡ªnot as some Diviners could. I can only keep from wronging the future. By Asuryan, I must hope that will be enough.¡±


    Zaer heard the words, but could barely process them, as not a single one was even remotely close to what he had expected of Zet. In response, he turned away from the Necron, and wrestled himself out of Luciene¡¯s grasp. ¡°Get the name of my god out of your toothless mouth,¡± he grumbled, and stormed away from the pair, holstering his rifle. He did not join the other trio across the Deck, and instead left the scene entirely on his own.


    As Zet rose to his feet again, and as Luciene watched Zaer walk away, the latter muttered, ¡°That will not be enough to quell his fear. But it is a start. Thank you, Zet, for hearing and obliging my request.¡±


    ¡°It is not an unsound one to make,¡± Zet agreed. ¡°This galaxy is riddled with the scars of mistakes made millennia ago. My species has made far more than most. I cannot blame him¡ªor any other¡ªfor hating me for long-ago errors.¡±


    ¡°Hatred only leads to more mistakes being made,¡± Luciene shook her head. ¡°There are better ways, even if few can see them. I suspect you¡¯re one of the rare few that can,¡± she said, and tapped a hand to Zet¡¯s shoulder. Her skin was warm. It was one thing for Zet¡¯s internal registers to assess the precise evaluation of her body heat and label it above room-temperature.


    But for the first time in 65 million years, Zet felt the warmth of another¡¯s touch, as though he had taken off the mask.

 Chapter 126 - Inquisition

    While Zet certainly appeared at-home aboard his craft¡ªat least, as far as one¡¯s appearance and demeanor could change when one was a cybernetic skeleton¡ªhis vessel¡¯s occupants existed in a state most readily described as ¡®unease.¡¯ Though given the living nature of those occupants, ¡®unease¡¯ was a vast understatement. Even Luciene was perturbed to stand within the sarcophagal halls of a dead thing such as his vessel¡ªsaid to be a ¡®Jackal¡¯-class Frigate starship. Being a mere Frigate vessel, it was far smaller than the Bastion-class Commerce vessels it was defending on the mining operation, albeit still large enough to compete with Eutophoria in terms of tonnage. Yet the confines of its sparse rooms and halls were cramped, hardly accommodating for a collection of individuals that could not teleport themselves through reality as Zet could. This was, the Nemesor admitted, something he had once considered but later neglected to mention. One¡¯s memory is a fickle thing, when tested against one¡¯s age, he suggested.


    Regardless, small and cramped or not, Zet¡¯s starship¡ªwhich he had not cared to implement a name for until Luciene suggested dubbing it Katabasis¡ªproved more than capable in the role Kotak had needed them to fulfill. It was fast, almost blindingly so, yet conferred no tug of inertia upon its crew. And it was indeed weaponized; as remnants of the Great Maw regurgitated upon the Demiurgs¡¯ vessels from their quarry, Lightning Arc batteries fried out and evaporated what slim resistance the Tyranid swarms could muster. Alas, as Zet admitted, such weaponry had not the largest of rangefinding, but that seemed¡ªto Luciene¡ªnot to matter, on account of Katabasis¡¯s aforementioned speed. The nimble vessel effortlessly dove between the ships of the Demiurg operation, like a predacious hawk slicing its prey out from the ether and into its talons.


    Luciene, for all her unease, was impressed with Katabasis itself and the expertise with which Zet piloted it.


    Zaer was horrified.


    Yet though Zaer¡¯s dismay was visible to all, it was voiced by none. What was voiced, on the other hand, were questions for the tall and bulky pilot of Katabasis. ¡°If I may ask, mister-Necron, why is it you were seeking a crew? Your vessel seems more than capably operated on your own,¡± Kane observed, being the first to break the ice in that regard. While there were many consoles on the flight deck of Zet¡¯s ship, only one was in use in the piloting sense; the others were being sat on or leaned upon, at Zet¡¯s insistence that doing so would not impair the vessel¡¯s operation. Kane leaned against one such console, while Myr sat next to him. All eyes, save for Luciene¡¯s, were ever on the Nemesor on deck.


    ¡°A wonderful question, master Ishmael,¡± Zet said, though none of Luciene¡¯s allies had ever introduced themselves to Zet. The utterance of their names by his robotic tongue, therefore, was as unnerving as his laugh. ¡°And one I expected to be asked by those wisest among you.¡±


    ¡°I was going to get there eventually,¡± Zaer muttered.


    ¡°In his lifetime, or just ours?¡± Zet wondered, gesturing to Kane. He then looked back toward the human. ¡°You are correct that I do not need a piloting crew, but more hands make for less work upon landfall, you see.¡±


    ¡°But that is only half the answer, isn¡¯t it?¡± Luciene asked from behind Kane and Myr. Luciene¡¯s eyes, unlike many others, almost never set upon Zet¡¯s visage; instead, she was enamored with the view of the void outside his vessel, taking in all the stars and worlds beyond, and certainly enjoying the brisk space combat Katabasis engaged in. Even having asked her question, she did not turn to face the Nemesor.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Zet admitted. ¡°Would you care to take a stab at some theoretical other half?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the first thing I¡¯d want to stab,¡± Zaer growled. Though no unnerving laugh followed from the Nemesor, Zaer was certain that if Zet could smile, he would have. Luciene, meanwhile, loosed a sigh, exasperated with the continuing feud.


    ¡°While my peers bicker over that, I have a more pressing question, if you¡¯re answering,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan offered. Zet nodded his way. ¡°Your vessel is quick and nimble¡ªemphasis on quick. How is it we arrived here so soon after departing Eutophoria? Your FTL technology seems some centuries ahead of what I am familiar with.¡±


    ¡°Centuries for the T¡¯au, master Kor¡¯Kassan, are mere hours to my kind,¡± Zet said, and at that, laughed once more. ¡°I would grant you an answer to your question, and would happily help you derive the inner workings of an inertialess drive such as my own, but I worry in doing so you would age considerably and our crew would be bored to death, vindicating our Aeldari friend¡¯s reservations about me.¡±


    Though to most that appeared to be a non-answer, Kor¡¯Kassan found Zet¡¯s response more than satisfactory. Weathered of some age though he was, Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s eyes were widened to full as he whipped out a small parchment and, throwing penmanship to the wind, scribbled ¡®Inertialess Drive¡¯ upon it as hastily as he could manage, underlining the phrase thrice.


    ¡°So, are we going around the room asking questions of you, is that the idea?¡± Myr wondered aloud, nodding toward Zet.


    ¡°It seems to be, master Nessa.¡±


    Myr mouthed the phrase herself¡ªmaster Nessa¡ªand seemed content with how it sounded, then inquired of the Necron properly: ¡°Do Abominable Intelligences such as yourself ever experience love?¡±


    ¡°You have to do better than a yes/no question, come on,¡± Kane protested.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± she hissed at him.


    ¡°I am, master Nessa, not an AI as meets your Mechanicus definition, though I understand the confusion, presumptuous as it is to suggest that humanity¡ªin its Dark Age or otherwise¡ªcould have created one such as myself,¡± Zet began. ¡°There; wordy enough for you, master Ishmael?¡± he interjected over himself, and Myr held out a hand toward Zet while looking at Kane, as though to say, See! ¡°I am, as your lexicon describes, firmly a Xenos entity. But to the crux of your query, master Nessa, there was a time, long before your kind could even see the land beneath its then-amorphous being, when I was bathed in flesh and blood as you are now. It is possible I knew love in such an era. But¡­,¡± Zet started, and for the first time since interacting with Luciene¡¯s crew, fell to a pause. Worse than that, even, he then repeated himself: ¡°But that is not what you asked. Do I know love now? No, I do not think I do.¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The deck fell silent. Even Luciene looked down from her view of the outside, though she said nothing. It was, as before, a human that eventually broke the silence, when Myr shrugged and admitted, ¡°Pity.¡±


    Zet managed a singular chuckle at that, which itself was not too grating on the others, before he turned to Zaer. ¡°And what of you, master Zaer of Biel-Tan?¡±


    ¡°Do I know what love is?¡± Zaer frowned, insulted.


    ¡°No, I suspect you do. What is your question for me?¡± Zet clarified.


    ¡°Must I have one? I would rather not, as asking a question invites a response, and I would prefer not to hear your insidious voice more than I must,¡± Zaer said, shaking his head.


    ¡°Zaer,¡± Luciene chided from across the room, still not facing toward any of her group.


    Zaer looked to her, sighed, and then looked back to Zet. ¡°Fine. You had mentioned severing your resurrection protocols during our first¡­encounter. Does that mean¡­?¡±


    ¡°That I have but one life to live?¡± Zet suggested. Zaer nodded. ¡°Yes, in theory. It means that unless another of my ilk were to reconnect resurrection protocols to my person¡ªwithout my consent, mind you¡ªthen when I am next slain in battle, I will not return to and be repaired by my kin¡¯s forges. I will simply¡­die. Mostly.¡±


    ¡°Mostly?¡± Zaer frowned again.


    ¡°Disappointed?¡± Zet chuckled. ¡°Forgive me, master Aeldari, but I am not about to reveal the intricacies of my survival matrix to one so keen on terminating that survival.¡±


    His answer given, eyes fell from Zet for the first time, and turned toward the would-be bearer of the final round of questions. Unfortunately for the group, Luciene was still not facing anyone, and had returned to her view of the void beyond. That was, until Zaer called to her. ¡°Lucy.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± she muttered, and glanced over her shoulder to see the room looking her way. ¡°Ah. Right,¡± she said, understanding, and then looked directly to Zet. ¡°You¡¯re alone.¡±


    ¡°Is that a question?¡± Kor¡¯Kassan wondered.


    Zet shook his head, mechatronics grinding upon themselves in his faux-neck to do so. ¡°It is a theoretical other half of the answer to master Ishmael¡¯s earlier query,¡± Zet said. ¡°To the question of, ¡®Why do I want a crew,¡¯ the allegation is that my desires stem from being otherwise alone, is that right, master Luciene?¡± he asked her. Luciene nodded, face stern and confident. She already knew; she knew before Kane had asked the question of Zet to begin with, she knew when they had first met. And she had also known the answer to Myr¡¯s question beforehand, too. Zet recognized all of this from Luciene¡¯s brutal, unforgiving confidence.


    That they each recognized all of this from each other led to no verbal communication of assent or confirmation. Not at first. ¡°Well?¡± Kane asked of them both, aware enough to know that there was some unspoken dialogue he was unaware of.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Zet admitted at last, and turned away from the gilded, glowing eyes of the one who seemed to understand him best to look down upon his command console. ¡°I am alone. You each had arrived at Eutophoria in separatist isolation from your societies, but I would venture to guess none of you hold those societies in contempt, yes? Yet I loathe mine as much as master Zaer does, if not more. Do not misunderstand me, I want the best for my people, but what my people want is not their best, and I do not know whether they are deserving of anything more than what they have. Our King left us to our own devices long ago, but our devices are cruel, and make us wholly unworthy of what we desire. We seek to live, again, as each of you do, yet we have forgotten what it is to be alive. We neglect the weight of death. Ah, alas, I ramble. Yes, I am alone, because what my people intend for each other is unbecoming of living things; they can do not but vie for conflict. I sought those that desired something more than petty strife. Tell me, master Zaer of Biel-Tan, have I found them?¡± he asked, looking up at the Eldar.


    Zaer was neither ready for Zet¡¯s elaboration nor prepared for it to be turned against him. ¡°I, uh¡ª¡± he stammered, and his defensive composure fell away to something more vulnerable.


    ¡°Yes, Zet, you have,¡± Luciene answered for her friend, and eased the tension between the two. ¡°With us, you are not alone.¡±


    ¡°We shall see whether that can hold,¡± Zet said, unliving eyes still locked with Zaer¡¯s, where they remained until the flashing of a red light upon his command console. ¡°Anomalous contact,¡± Zet declared, returning his attention to the scene of the battle in the void. A view of the void materialized upon the wall behind Zet, displaying the reddish-orange world that the Tyranid fleet had failed to devour. Necron telemetries scanned and re-adjusted the view to hone in on a ship that had appeared in the world¡¯s orbit.


    ¡°That¡¯s Imperial,¡± Myr observed, earning nods from Kane and Zaer alike.


    ¡°Scans suggest it is the Coldbreed, belonging to one Inquisitor Zha Trantos,¡± Zet reported. ¡°Shall I engage?¡±


    ¡°An Inquisitor?¡± Kane shouted, instantly falling pale. ¡°Are you insane? Where the Inquisition is concerned, one ship could be a thousand at a moment¡¯s notice.¡±


    ¡°And though each of those thousand would be pitifully weak, I am inclined to share in Ishmael¡¯s fears,¡± Zaer agreed. ¡°An Inquisition fleet is not something our kinds have many victories against, Necron, and we are but one vessel.¡±


    ¡°Master Luciene?¡± Zet asked her.


    Luciene was, as before, absorbed with the view of the outside, this time watching the activities of the Inquisition ship. A lone crew carrier left the world below to return to the Coldbreed, its apparent mother vessel. ¡°Do not engage. Not unless they enter firing range of us or of the Demiurg fleet. Our remit is to the defense of the fleet, not for undue aggression. Ishmael, Nessa, what is it this Inquisition does?¡±


    ¡°Anything and everything, usually incredibly violently,¡± Myr answered. ¡°Where the Imperium defines heresy, it is the Inquisition that finds and eliminates any violators of the Imperial Faith or Creed. They are a horrifyingly powerful military organization, as with most subdivisions of the Imperium.¡±


    ¡°Zha Trantos,¡± Luciene muttered to herself, albeit audibly enough for her crew to hear the name again.


    ¡°Do you know the name?¡± Kane asked her.


    ¡°I have not heard it before, and yet¡­it is familiar all the same,¡± Luciene admitted, shaking her head.


    ¡°Digging into Inquisition records, I have deduced that Inquisitor Zha Trantos belongs to the Ordo Hereticus, initially born a savant upon the world of Thantalus in the Ixaniad Sector,¡± Zet suggested. ¡°If that helps jog the memory.¡±


    ¡°Hereticus? They¡¯re the worst of the bunch,¡± Myr sighed. ¡°It appears not to be my call, but I would very much give this Inquisitor a wide berth. It is best we have as little to do with them as possible.¡±


    ¡°Hereticus,¡± Luciene murmured, more quietly still, yet still audible to some. ¡°Thantalus¡­Trantos¡­¡±


    Eyes fell to Zaer, who shook his head, not knowing what was giving Luciene such pause. He had never seen her like this before. And he certainly did not expect what followed: ¡°Please excuse me,¡± Luciene said suddenly, and departed from the flight deck entirely, still muttering the name of the Inquisitor to herself as she left.

 Chapter 127 - Regicide

    ¡°Tetrarch to Emperor¡¯s fifth.¡±


    Silas stared long and hard at the board between us, then. He was losing, again, and he knew it. He was no novice, but since we had started our matches of Regicide some weeks ago, he had yet to take my Emperor from me. In this match, though Silas had promoted one of his pieces to an early Primarch, much of the rest of his board was tactically weak, and his lines were beginning to fall to mine, which held a higher degree of average, distributed strength.


    ¡°I think,¡± he began, hovering a hand over the circular plascrete board between us, and its many glass pieces, not yet committed to any move. ¡°That I am soon to concede once more.¡±


    ¡°I hope so. I¡¯ve been staring at that Primarch for a score of minutes, unsure what to do about it,¡± I offered.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been handling it well thus far, Cal,¡± Silas said with a wince. ¡°Being your opponent is no easy task, you know.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re missing a finger to prove it,¡± I agreed with a nod. He snorted, and waved his partially-augmetic hand aside, dismissing the old wound without much care for it. He was clearly more invested in the Regicide game¡ªhis hand returned to flitting above the board soon enough. ¡°May I suggest a move?¡±


    ¡°No, you may not,¡± he growled, offended. I broke into a laugh, which was a thing I only rarely enjoyed in recent times. Silas knew that, too, and glanced up to me to smile my way before returning his gaze to the board. ¡°Is the move to surrender?¡±


    ¡°It may have been,¡± I shrugged. Silas¡¯s hand moved over to his Emperor, and I briefly thought he was going to tip it over. Instead, Silas picked the piece up and regarded it in his grasp for a time. I did not need to read his mind¡ªand I did not¡ªto know that he thought of his piece as a metaphor for me. Every match of Regicide I claimed was a reminder of his failure aboard the Finality. Every loss more evidence of his guilt of his alleged betrayal. His eyes flicked up to mine, searching for an answer to the ever-pressing question: Did I think he had betrayed me?


    No,


    Yes.


    no, I did not. Despite what the daemon might say, I held no animosity toward Silas. Nothing that occurred within the Finality was on his shoulders. It was my mistake to have met the heretic head-on with my forces as I had, and we were all paying the price of my lapse in judgment hence. But all the rest of the blame laid firmly upon the heretic¡¯s head, which on daemonic authority¡ªsomething that could hardly be considered a good source¡ªit was that head I was confident I had successfully blown to smithereens.


    For all the good that did for anyone.


    Silas dropped his Emperor to the board then, letting it clatter about on its side before coming to a rest against some other pieces. Surrender. He then clapped his hands to the table just ahead of him and sighed. ¡°Forgive me, Cal, but I think I¡¯ve had enough of an ass-whooping today,¡± he said, grinning gently. Then, his face soured, and he asked, ¡°Do daemons play Regicide?¡±


    On occasion.


    ¡°I¡¯m not consulting the depravities of the Warp for insight against you, Silas,¡± I assured him, wincing slightly as Cronos spoke to me. Silas caught the wince and recognized it for what it was, sighing again. I may have overcome my catatonia¡ªthanks in large part to the warm and patient embrace of Mirena Law¡ªbut the daemon was ever-present now. Ever-watching, ever-waiting. Silas knew this, of course, though we were successful in keeping my terrible secret from Mirena, and it had, thus far, not tried to harm her. What it had done to Silas, however, was unknown to me. Though it had shown me its torture of Bliss some years ago, Silas¡¯s torments were hidden from me, even if I knew they were happening in the background. Silas¡¯s mood and expressions as of late were pained and weary. I suspected the daemon was playing on his sense of guilt, rather than inflicting a physical torment as had befallen Bliss. The breaking of Silas Hager was a slow but certain process; I could only hope to reinforce his faith in the Throne in the belief that doing so would alleviate or prevent Cronos from striking at him.


    Soon, Blackgar, soon I¡¯ll even be playing with your Corpse-God¡ªoh, the power to reap from breaking the Anathema. If I can do that, what good would your Scion¡¯s faith amount to?


    I winced again, head weighing down from the headache of daemonic interference. ¡°What is it like?¡± Silas asked. ¡°Sensationally, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t recommend it,¡± I answered, shaking my head as though the vain instinctive motion would toss the daemon from my shoulders. Silas looked at me blankly, awaiting a more substantive response. ¡°You ever sleep in dry heat, and wake up with your digits feeling sore and stiff? It is that but with my thoughts. It is there, a lurking pain, hot and hellish, and drives an emotional aching from within.¡±


    ¡°It will end,¡± Silas declared, nodding to himself. Faith, good. I grunted questioningly, inviting an explanation, wishing to know where he found his faith, that I might invest some of my own. ¡°Zha will find a way to end it. You know she will. If there is a way to free us all of the daemon, she will find it.¡±


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    And if there isn¡¯t?


    ¡°Yes, our savant has always produced wonders, hasn¡¯t she?¡± I nodded through the pain of Cronos¡¯s voice. ¡°Silas,¡± I started then, and raised a hand to my own Emperor on the Regicide board. He looked up attentively. ¡°Change is near, I think. Power is in the air. You should prepare for action soon. Something approaches us, and not slowly.¡±


    ¡°Someone, more like,¡± he suggested, and I squinted, not understanding what he meant. Then two slender, bronze arms slid over my shoulders back to front, and held me close. Mirena rested her head against the side of mine, and I reached my birth-hand up to hers, holding her by the back of her wrist.


    ¡°Seems Cal has bested your efforts again, Silas,¡± Mirena observed, looking over the board while snuggling against me.


    ¡°It¡¯s a recurring trend,¡± Silas admitted.


    ¡°May I have some time with him?¡± she asked, and Silas looked to me. I nodded, after which Silas bid us well before at last rising from the Regicide board and deciding to patrol around our cabin. As he left, Mirena moved around me and sat sideways upon my lap, tossing her augmetic arm over my shoulders while taking my birth hand up in hers. ¡°How are we today, Cal?¡± she asked, squeezing at my hand in her grasp. I wrapped my augmetic under her arms, holding her close.


    ¡°Surviving. Much more easily now,¡± I answered, to which she licked her lips over and then briefly pressed those lips to mine. After our kiss, she pressed her forehead to mine. The superstitious worry occurred to me that the daemon might jump out of my mind and into hers via the tapping of our heads together, but I dismissed that worry quickly¡ªthat was neither how the world worked, nor fit Cronos¡¯s M.O. So, instead, I allowed myself to loosen up and rest more easily within her silvery gaze. ¡°Anyone ever tell you that you¡¯re indescribably beautiful?¡±


    ¡°You, once or twice,¡± she smiled, and licked her lips over again, though did not go in for another kiss. Instead, she raised her augmetic from my shoulders to clutch at my head, pulling herself up and over me to hold my head against her upper chest, just under her neck. She smelled of freshly-cut summer grasses, and her heartbeat was strong and firm. This, in contrast to what she apparently saw from having looked into my face. ¡°Your eyes are so weak these days, Cal. You have your secrets, I know you do, and I know how they burden your shoulders so. Let me in. Let me ease that burden, let me help you.¡±


    I said nothing.


    Going to leave the poor girl hanging, Blackgar?


    I said nothing, and held Mirena more tightly, wincing in the process.


    ***


    I am on that accursed ship of shadows again. I cannot move, and shadows claw at every fiber of my being, their talons like icy daggers. I am alone, forgotten, interminably and forever, motionless within that abyssal void.


    Then the figures of darkness appear, enshrouded in orange flame as they are. They scorch the gnawing shadows away from me and bring me into the light once more. It is hot, and my eyes begin to burn with flame of my own. I awaken from a slumber that may have lasted an eternity, and I am alive, if only just. I see you, I see your gentle smile, your pale face, your sky-blue eyes. You extend a hand to me, and when I take it, your warmth washes over me, hotter even than the light thus far managed, hotter even than my newfound gaze. The orange flames vanish into vibrant blues, carrying the figures of darkness away with them.


    The cold is no more! Life returns, and it burns with awesome ferocity!


    You are my salvation!


    You teach me to speak in varied tongues, both of the flesh and of the abyss. With such verbiage, I can cast away the shadows on my own, and they never bother me again. I am grateful to be able to speak.


    You teach me to see, not just what is plainly visible, but between all the realms. With such sight, I can hunt the shadows before they form, driving them out before they can gnaw at reality again. I am grateful to be able to see.


    You teach me to hear, and more importantly, to listen, and I hear the cries of a broken galaxy. It suffers as the darkness encroaches upon fading flames. I hear the deaths of quintillions looming, and know I cannot save them all. But I can try. I am grateful to be able to hear.


    You teach me even more. You teach me to fight, you teach me fury, you teach me might. You give me the skills to slaughter the foes of our flame. And I do. And I am grateful to be able bring ruin to the unending hordes of shadow. I am strong, now, and I burn like never before. But the shadows remain.


    You teach me to teach myself. And I have learned, in time, that fury is not enough. I have learned that to truly wound the shadows, flames need to breed and bring hope to an otherwise hapless galaxy. I can hear the suffering of quintillions, I can see their plight, and while I could fight the shadows for them, I have learned to speak the words that give them the strength to stand resolute against the lurking dark. I have learned to give others hope.


    And I am grateful.


    All of this because of you, Veralith. I have learned so very much from you, from the salvation you provided me. And there is still so much for me to know, and I will, because yours is the domain of knowledge, and I love you.


    I am light, I am grace, I am mercy.


    Born of your ferocious flame, I am Luciene, and I will burn away the dark. The shadows that haunt this galaxy will not survive my gaze, and I shall find them all, and illuminate your beloved cosmos. Veralith, hear this prayer, and guide me where the pale light of hope is needed most. I shall venture into that forbidden dark, and free it from itself.


    When Luciene¡¯s silent prayer had concluded, she heaved in and out one great, deep breath, and opened her eyes. Her gaze, burning and gilded as ever, settled on the tired and worn initials carved into the hilt of her Eviscerator. CB / LF. She knew not what they meant, but they grounded her with their familiar presence, and with another deep breath, she found she had pushed aside the gnawing thoughts the Inquisition¡¯s arrival had incurred upon her. Luciene¡¯s focus was renewed.


    Luciene, in cool confidence, knew the shadows waited for her where she and her newfound crew had just been. After a trip to Eutophoria to report to Kotak the Unbroken, she intended to return to the world the Inquisition had investigated, and uncover its secrets for herself, whatever they may be.


    Luciene knew that to learn of such secrets was what Veralith wanted for her.

 Chapter 128 - Bombardment

    I know you have your mercurial motives, Luciene, but I must recommend against involving ourselves¡ªnay, yourself¡ªin Inquisitorial operations.


    The protests of her colleagues, starting with Nessa Myr, above, echoed in Luciene¡¯s memory as the world of Merkalla came into view for the second time. It was as orange as it was a few days ago, when they were here last with the Demiurg mining fleet. The bones of the Tyranid fleet drifted in a sea of frozen flesh behind them; though the Demiurg had mined much of the minerals within the Hive vessels, the bones were not ¡°licked clean¡±¡ªas Ishmael put it¡ªfor much of the meat upon the Hive ships was of no value to the Demiurg.


    For Zaer, her most trusted confidant and ally, the protests were much more recent than mere memory. ¡°This is a bad idea, you know,¡± he said. He stood next to her, arms crossed, also looking over the dry orange sphere before them.


    ¡°You¡¯ve said that to me time and again over the years,¡± Luciene noted, a gentle grin crossing her lips for a moment, though it faded just as swiftly as it arrived.


    ¡°Have I been wrong?¡± Zaer asked. Luciene did not answer. No, he had not been, not often. Due to her silence, Zaer shrugged and reminded her of his loyalty all the same. ¡°If this is what you want, Lucy, I will follow.¡±


    ¡°Want,¡± she repeated, and shook her head. ¡°To want this makes it seem so small. I feel as though I must go down there, that I am called to.¡±


    ¡°And this calling, is it to this world, or to the Imperial Inquisition?¡± Zaer asked. Luciene looked at him, at last breaking her gaze from Merkalla below. ¡°If you are called to this world, nebulous though your predilections are, I am inclined to follow. Your calling is a path to which you have guided many of us, and it is a worthy journey. But if you just wish to discern more about the Imperial Inquisition, and its goings-on, I must confess to reticence. Even if I am wrong about Zet¡ªwhich I do not think I am¡ªthe Inquisition is not something you can reason with, Lucy. They will see us as enemies, and they will kill us without hesitation. Do you understand?¡±


    Luciene looked to the stygian ceiling of the Necron vessel above her. Green lights coursed down alleys of unknown technological hieroglyphs all throughout the structure of Zet¡¯s ship. They were alien in nature and an opportunity for horror were one to set eyes upon them, but Luciene found them oddly calming, not terrifying. The repetitive, gentle cadence with which the innards of Katabasis pulsed was as unto a heartbeat. Indeed, it may have been just that.


    After contemplating the liveliness of the unliving vessel housing them, Luciene returned her gaze to Merkalla. The planet was very definitively dead, and dusty at that. ¡°Do you have personal experience with this Inquisition?¡± she asked Zaer at last.


    Zaer sighed. ¡°I do not,¡± he admitted. ¡°But they are preceded by no small reputation.¡±


    ¡°Can there be Inquisitors that break the mold you describe?¡±


    Zaer paused, sighed again, and then shook his head. ¡°You and I both know that no body in the galaxy is uniform, Lucy,¡± he said before gesturing to the remnants of the Hive fleet. ¡°Well, perhaps no body but theirs. But yes, I assume there are Inquisitors possessed of some patience and level-headedness. However, I also assume they are short-lived, as their ranks are cutthroat and the Imperium no stranger to infighting. Please hear my words, Lucy¡ªDeath is the only thing that follows the Inquisition. It is in their very nature. Now, I repeat my question: to what is your calling?¡±


    Luciene stared at Merkalla for a few moments longer than she had looked to the Necron ceiling of Katabasis, and then at last revealed, ¡°There is something down there that I am called to see. I have no calling to the Inquisition, just¡­an echo of something I cannot recall.¡±


    ¡°Then follow I shall,¡± Zaer agreed without further hesitation. ¡°Let us depart.¡±


    ***


    Luciene¡¯s eyes were not open when she instructed Zet where to land Katabasis. The Necron frigate kicked up a small dust storm as it descended upon Merkalla below, and it was not until the dust had cleared that it was revealed Luciene¡¯s instructions had guided the vessel to park adjoined to a ruined city. Pale stone megaliths reached upward from deserted streets, ascending to heights almost as tall as Katabasis¡¯s peaks, gashed only by the erosion of wind and time. If there was life here once, it long predated both the Inquisition¡¯s arrival and, before them, the Tyranid¡¯s.


    Yet not all features of the surface were so old. Colossal footprints darkened the main causeway before Katabasis¡¯s bay, with Luciene only noticing the scale of one when she stood within it, her crimson cloak whipping in the wind and still failing to catch any edge of the footprint. ¡°Knight,¡± Myr said, seeing Luciene¡¯s shock. ¡°Likely a Castellan, given the size of the imprint and separation of its stride,¡± she said, pointing ahead to other such depressions along the causeway.


    ¡°An operative of our Inquisitorial friends, no doubt,¡± Zaer offered, stepping ahead of the group with his Shuriken Rifle at the ready. ¡°We shall hear it coming, at least, if it lurks here yet.¡±


    ¡°It would need to be a Freeblade,¡± Kane pointed out. He stuck by Myr¡¯s side, despite the latter¡¯s unnerving, blood-red Death Cult-attire. ¡°Knights are tied to Houses, not the Inquisition, unless they embark on an independent path.¡±


    ¡°A path like ours,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan noted, face buried in electronic scanners and sensory reports. A small drone hovered over his head, turning to and fro to assess the T¡¯au¡¯s surroundings. ¡°Speaking of which, Luciene, what is our heading?¡±


    ¡°For now, we follow in this great beast¡¯s footsteps,¡± Luciene declared, looking on down the causeway, where the great footsteps continued. ¡°And we shall pray it has not stepped on that which I seek. Zet, are you to remain with Katabasis?¡± she asked, turning to face the Necron.


    ¡°I can if so desired. But unlike those of flesh, I am also capable of being in two places at once,¡± Zet answered.


    ¡°I know what my vote is,¡± Zaer said in a growl.


    ¡°That I remain upon my vessel and strand you here?¡± Zet offered.


    ¡°There are worse fates,¡± Zaer shrugged.


    Luciene cleared her throat, and glanced¡ªsharply¡ªto Zaer before returning her gaze to Zet. ¡°It is up to you, Zet. Join us if you wish.¡±


    One of Zet¡¯s unnerving and unnatural laughs followed, after which he said, ¡°Then I shall, if only to further annoy the Aeldari.¡± Zet then stepped forward, joining the group properly, while Katabasis closed its bay doors behind him without any apparent interaction from the Necron. The group of six then ventured deeper into the abandoned city before them, with all but Kor¡¯Kassan taking care to avoid the large footprints in the ground as though they were dangerous omens. The T¡¯au, however, studied each one, gleaming some scientific insight from the sunken footfalls.


    Luciene¡¯s attention, meanwhile, was on the city¡¯s unknown architecture. As her group proceeded onward, she gradually eased her pace until she was standing next to Zet. ¡°You claimed to be possessed of some years, Zet,¡± she began. ¡°Can you discern who might have once lived here?¡±


    ¡°I cannot,¡± Zet admitted, shaking his head with the slight whir of embedded metals in his spine. ¡°I was not known to study ancient relics until only recently. There is an archivist among my kind who might, though he is quite mad, and I would not take you to him as I do not imagine he would ever let you leave his presence.¡±


    ¡°They are Aeldari,¡± Zaer chimed in, stepping closer to the pair with some reluctance. ¡°Or, they were. The base foundation of many of these structures were made from the craftsmanship of my people. But it was later adapted, this city. By Human hands, I think, but not possessed of the gothic nature of Imperial design. I do not imagine this world has seen life since The Fall,¡± he explained, and then glanced upward, staring at the streak of shattered space that stretched across the skies. Zaer winced in pain at the sight of it, but did not shake his gaze for moments more.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying your people owned this world, and then abandoned it, after which non-Imperial Humans colonized it?¡± Luciene asked. Zaer nodded, and in so doing, broke his staring contest with the Great Rift. ¡°Where have they gone?¡± she wondered aloud.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say. Worlds die, it is inevitable,¡± Zaer shrugged.


    ¡°For the living, that is,¡± Zet noted.


    Zaer ignored the Necron. ¡°This world, at least, was not claimed by war. There is no sign of struggle. Abandoned, likely, perhaps for whatever reason my people fled this realm.¡±


    ¡°Isotropic analysis of atmospheric conditions suggests otherwise,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan butted in, joining the trio from behind. His face was still buried in analyses of the world. ¡°The only amounts of residual starship fuel in the atmosphere are recent, with none matching the approximate age of this city¡¯s last inhabitation. Wherever the people here went, they did not leave this world by ship.¡±


    ¡°Meaning they died here,¡± Zaer noted. ¡°Necron, you are confident your scans of this surface revealed no signs of life?¡±


    ¡°I am, Aeldari,¡± Zet said, mimicking Zaer¡¯s unwillingness to refer to the other by their name.


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    ¡°Then whatever was here came and went without a ship, if you¡¯re both to be believed,¡± Zaer surmised. ¡°And if I¡¯m correct, that happened around the time of The Fall. There were a great many things that invaded our galaxy around that period. This may be a daemon world, in the Imperial tongue, which would explain why the Inquisition brought a Knight. Stay alert, Luciene,¡± Zaer said, prepping his rifle ahead of himself.


    ¡°There are no daemons here,¡± Luciene said with a confidence that eased the stress Zaer had built up in himself and in Kor¡¯Kassan. Zet was not too bothered by the prospect one way or another. ¡°My quarry is just ahead. That structure,¡± she declared, and nodded toward a large pyramidal edifice that seemed to sit in the dead center of the city. It was minutes more before Luciene and her crew reached it, and minutes more still before they were able to ascend the great staircase that led from its base to an entryway.


    ¡°Our kind refuses to build small, don¡¯t we?¡± Kane muttered about halfway up the stairs. Myr tossed an arm over his shoulders and pushed him along.


    The Knight¡¯s footsteps terminated at the base of the great stairway, but Kor¡¯Kassan and Zet agreed that they were able to detect smaller, humanoid footprints that had left a forensic mark before Luciene¡¯s crew¡¯s arrival. The Inquisition had sought out this pyramid as she had, and gleamed of its secrets already. This, Luciene acknowledged, explained why the sealed stone doors at the apex of the stairwell had been blown apart, their remnants scattered in the entrance of the pyramid. Nevertheless, she ventured inside, still following in the Inquisition¡¯s footsteps.


    Luciene only advanced a few steps onward into the vast darkness within before pausing ahead of her group. She turned back to face them and said only, ¡°Watch your step.¡± She then pointed to her sides, indicating that some danger lurked in the darkness next to her. From her crew¡¯s perspective, she then turned and vanished deeper into the shadows of the pyramid.


    ¡°Allow me,¡± Zet suggested, and lifted another of his Tesseracts from his cloak. Light shone out from it¡ªnot Necron green, but pure, unadulterated, white light. Perhaps, Zaer and Kor¡¯Kassan thought, the Necron had a star within this pocketed prison. Or it contained some other Necron contraption, as his first had. Both possibilities seemed equally probable to the T¡¯au and Eldar alike. Regardless of the light¡¯s source, it revealed two things: One, the source of the danger Luciene had hinted at, in the form of a sudden drop into a vast chasm below the walkway that led from the pyramid¡¯s entrance; Two, where the population of the city had gone. ¡°That much I was not expecting,¡± Zet admitted, scanning the interior walls of the pyramid.


    Skeletons lined them. Thousands, millions. Bodies, desiccate like Zet¡¯s and white like the light that shown from his Tesseract, formerly inured from the wear of time from the Inquisition-broken seal of this structure. Empty eyes stared down at the pyramid¡¯s new occupants, jaws agape. Kane thought they looked hungry, though the sight of millions of dead, hungry maws left him devoid of any appetite himself. Even the once-cannibalistic Myr found herself none-too-thrilled with the sight around her.


    ¡°The¡­uh¡­the bodies line the walls eleven meters deep, without much gap,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan reported worriedly, only his drone maintaining any even composure as it scanned the skeletal superstructure around him.


    ¡°No one needs to know that,¡± Zaer muttered. ¡°How old are they?¡±


    ¡°Approximately eleven thousand years old, give or take,¡± the T¡¯au answered.


    ¡°Right in time with The Fall,¡± Zaer nodded, and then he stated the obvious: ¡°They did not put themselves there.¡±


    ¡°No, they did not,¡± Zet agreed with a nod. ¡°Microfractures are found in most skeletal remains. They were put there by force, and kept pressed against one another for the rest of their lives¡ªand, evidently, beyond. I believe I now share your suspicion, Zaer. This is the work of that infernal violation of reality.¡±


    Zaer muttered something to himself and walked further past Zet, saying only, ¡°Glad we¡¯re in agreement.¡±


    ¡°In here,¡± Luciene called from deeper inside the pyramid. The brutalist skeletal surroundings had been so eye-catching to everyone else that they had forgotten Luciene ventured deeper in on her own, and they had neglected to observe the elevated, isolated room that rested at the end of the pyramid¡¯s sole walkway, from which Luciene then called. It, too, was of a smaller pyramidal shape, and its exterior walls, at least, were not covered in bones. It then occurred to the group that Luciene, evidently capable of seeing in the dark with those gleaming golden eyes, had likely borne witness to the skeletal walls of the main pyramid immediately, and had not chosen to inform her crew of such horrors.


    Perhaps that¡¯s her idea of a prank, Kane thought to himself as the group nevertheless pushed deeper into the pyramid together.


    The proximal walls of the inner pyramid were, like their distal opposites, also not covered in skeletons, but they were covered in something equally eye-catching. Flat and raised to the ceiling of the smaller, enclosed room, murals stretched across every last inch of the inner chamber, depicting imagery as yet unsourced to Luciene¡¯s crew. Luciene herself, however, stood transfixed in front of the mural opposite the inner chamber¡¯s entrance, her back to her allies. It was clear to them she something in the mural had caught her eye.


    Zaer stepped beside his partner and skimmed across the wall. ¡°A battle,¡± he surmised, quietly. Luciene nodded.


    ¡°The language of these hieroglyphs follow patterns of mankind¡¯s Low Gothic, as master Zaer suggested may be the case. I am working on translations,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan declared, thumbing through further dataslates on his person.


    Luciene rose and pressed a hand against the mural before her. ¡°The Warrior,¡± she translated, knowingly, her fingers touching a humanoid shape in the mural. It stood atop a circular world, leftmost amongst a similar group of figures, and was colored in black. A small green blade extended out from its right arm. Luciene then moved her hand a bit to the right, to the next figure. ¡°The Leader,¡± she said. This one was clad in pale blue, and held two longswords on its back, though neither was drawn. Luciene moved on to the next figure, clad in red, and with a number of additional, snakelike appendages emerging from its backside. ¡°The Scientist,¡± she translated.


    Luciene hesitated to move her hand ahead to the final, rightmost figure, as she recognized it at once¡ªas did Zaer. ¡°The Machine,¡± she muttered, hand passing gently over the spitting image of Zet, a pale skeleton wielding a greatscythe, with a gentle green aura about its form. Her hand then began to crawl up the mural, though she paused with even greater hesitation at the winged figure above the four landlocked entities. Nevertheless, after Zaer gently helped her hand to the gold-encrusted being on the mural, she translated, ¡°The Angel.¡± Higher above The Angel, greater in distance than that between The Angel and the four landlocked figures, rested a four-armed, four-winged entity painted in gentle, sky-blue. ¡°The Star,¡± Luciene translated, though that was a lie, and she knew it.


    Luciene knew, in no uncertain terms, who was depicted at the mural¡¯s apex, and that the words below described the figure by name, rather than some nebulous title. Veralith, Luciene thought to herself. Why are you here? You never struck me as a direct combatant.


    ¡°This all helps!¡± Kor¡¯Kassan shouted happily, beginning to take scans of the murals around himself with his drone.


    However, Zaer and Luciene paid his enthusiasm no mind. ¡°What are they fighting?¡± Zaer asked her. Every figure on the mural had their backs toward observers such as Luciene and her crew, standing instead to face down the largest, greatest, and most horrific entity of them all. A mass of shadow, larger than the world on which they stood, with hands grasping at the planet and maw ready to devour it whole. Ships¡ªvaguely Imperial and Aeldari¡ªwere carved into a resting position over the shadow, harmlessly firing into it.


    ¡°Cronos,¡± Luciene muttered, and backed away from the mural slowly.


    ¡°Is that its name? There are no hieroglyphs for it,¡± Zaer noted, looking to his left and right for any indication as to the being¡¯s title.


    ¡°Its name seeps from the walls,¡± Luciene declared warily, still backing up. ¡°It was here. It was¡­worshipped¡­by those outside.¡±


    ¡°The skeletons, you mean?¡± Kane suggested from some distance behind Luciene, never stepping deeply into the room.


    Luciene nodded. ¡°I do. They worshipped it, and it did that to them in return,¡± she explained. ¡°I was called to lay eyes upon this darkness,¡± Luciene understood, and then thought to herself, And now that I have, I wish you had left me blind.


    Zaer turned from the mural to face Luciene again, and when he did, his stern expression shattered. For the first time in his life, he saw in Luciene¡¯s face the very fear she had always sought to squash. Whatever it was her golden gaze was gleaming from these walls, it was eating away at her from within, antithetical to the very core of her being, all confidence destroyed.


    Zaer opened his mouth to speak, but Zet beat him to the punch with even greater urgency. ¡°A fleet of vessels has just entered the system in orbit over this world,¡± Zet announced, head and body pitching away from the murals toward the exit. ¡°Imperial.¡±


    ¡°The Inquisition,¡± Myr understood, and earned a nod from Zet.


    ¡°We need to leave. Now,¡± Zaer ordered, and rushed through the group to all but shove Luciene away from her fears. Her body put up no resistance, and as she and Zaer hurried from the pyramidal burial temple, the rest of her crew did not hesitate to follow. Only Zet paused in leaving, empty eyes focusing, briefly, on The Machine in the mural Luciene had read from before giving chase to his newfound allies.


    They made it about eighty-percent down the great staircase leading into¡ªand out of¡ªthe pyramid before columns of red lasfire descended from the heavens above. The first, thankfully, was not on their position, but countless miles to their East. It nevertheless darkened the horizon into a bloodred hue, and the skies crackled and growled with the sparking rasp of continent-shattering energy. Someone, male, shouted, ¡°Go! Run!¡± though even its speaker was unsure of who, and all were running from the burial crypt as it was.


    Zaer noted, briefly, that he was impressed with the speed at which Zet and Kor¡¯Kassan could carry themselves. While not possessed of Eldar¡ªor Luciene¡¯s¡ªagility, they were both at least capable of keeping up with the pair of humans despite their unathletic appearances. It was around this thought that the second las-bombardment began, far to their West, albeit nearer to their position than the first. The ground shook beneath their feet despite the distance, and the winds whipped every which way around them with force strong enough to topple the more-eroded peaks of the abandoned city. Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s drone was struggling to keep from being blown away at times, as the waves of force rushed into the group from each subsequent bombardment.


    As they neared Katabasis, Zaer observed that the vessel had already been powering up for takeoff and that its bays had already opened to accept its passengers. I¡¯ll give credit to Zet for that preparation, at least, Zaer thought to himself. They were going to make it out of here by the skin of their teeth, it seemed. As Zet neared the vessel, he phased out from sight, likely teleporting himself aboard. That was just as well; Zaer did not want to have to wait for the Necron to board manually. Zaer, for his litheness, crested the bay doors first, but waited at their peak to ensure Luciene made it aboard.


    Luciene, however, was more preoccupied with ensuring the rest of her crew made it to safety, helping them maintain their balance amidst the las-fueled sandstorm that was forced upon the city around them. Zaer was none too pleased about it, but he also was not going to waste time arguing with his obstinate partner. The humans made it aboard next, then Kor¡¯Kassan, after which Zaer reached a hand out to Luciene to help her up. She took it, but just as their hands met, the third and final bombardment began, striking the pyramidal burial chamber directly far ahead. In a frozen moment of time, as Zaer helped Luciene aboard Katabasis, he almost failed to see the thin, fragmented shrapnel that shot out from the column of crimson that singed his vision from whence they came. But seeing it did not imply being able to act on account of it, and Zaer could do not but watch, helplessly, as it sailed through Luciene¡¯s backside, out her front, and into the landing bay doors of Katabasis, where it all but liquified upon impact.


    In the next instant, the doors closed behind them, and Zaer had tossed himself and Luciene inside the ship, onto its cold, black floors, now beginning to stain red. And he watched with horror as the gold light faded from Luciene¡¯s eyes.

 Chapter 129 - Resurrection

    I am in that accursed dark again, alone. Unlike in my memories, however, I am on my feet, and clad in an exoskeleton. A Bolt weapon rests in my hands, and I clearly know how to use it. As the gnawing hordes encroach upon me, it roars with the Emperor¡¯s fury. But they are too many, and while not fast, their numbers allow them to near. In time, I must replace the Bolt weapon with that of the powered Chainsword upon my back. As large as a man though it may be, I find myself able to wield it with some grace without sacrificing anything from its killing power.


    In drawing the weapon I find that no, I am not truly alone. My shadow is with me, only it could hardly be said to be mine. My shadow takes the form of a man, smaller in stature than myself but nevertheless potent and lethal just like me. He is a textureless shadow, but he fights against the hungering void the same as I do. We are allies¡ªno, closer than that. My shadow takes fights for me to ease my burden out of care and consideration, not merely to work in tandem with my own abilities. It is clear there is passion in his strikes, passion for what his does, and for me. We are partners, in every sense. We fight back-to-back, as ever we have, though I do not know how I know that.


    The hordes fall in droves to us, but they are without number, and we are but two. Eventually, something will slip by. He and I know that, but it does nothing to dampen our morale, or more to the point, our ferocity. But when it comes, it comes for me but he intercepts the strike, and a bone-like appendage punctures him back-to-front. He lurches forward away from the killing blow, and falls into my desperate arms, where I cradle him, my beloved shadow, as he bleeds red, colored, textured blood onto my hands. He is dying. It¡¯ll be OK, he says.


    No, it won¡¯t be. Not without him. I open my mouth to tell him that, but I have no mouth behind the helmet I wear.


    Nevertheless, he hears my words, and replies: Never stop being who you are. He ends the phrase by saying a name, but it is not mine. This is all we get together before the hordes return, and I must rest my shadow on the ground, on his own, while I fend them off. As my shadow bleeds, I am Wrath, and the darkness learns it. I will never stop being Wrath.


    I headbutt a daemon of darkness so hard my helmet cracks while the daemon¡¯s head explodes. I doff my helmet quick as I can, as with it my vision is broken, but without it I can see, and with it then in my hands, I use it as a blunt instrument with which to bludgeon another daemon to the ground. It cries in beautiful agony of its own, as though repelled by my very touch. In my Wrath, I relish its pain before killing it on the spot with my helmet, shattering my former protection in the process.


    I turn back to my shadow to find him in a pool of his own blood, and I see the daemonic hordes still encircling him. Even in his weakened state, he is their target, and always has been, so why was he protecting me? I intercept his assailants and lash out against them, like a mother bear protecting its cubs. I am Horror, and the darkness learns it. I will never stop being Horror. Yet the dark faces its fears all the same, and the hordes keep coming. For all eternity, they will come, and for all eternity, I will meet them.


    And then the doors open, those great, brass doors against which my shadow and I made our stand. I look to him, and I see he is gone, lifeless, motionless. Cold. He died on his own, beyond my embrace, and there was nothing I could do for him. Now I, indeed, was on my own, alone, as further daemonic monstrosities spill forth from the creased opening between the doors. I may not have been able to do anything for my shadow in life, but I can keep his remains safe and consecrated, where these monsters might seek to defile him yet.


    And so I fight on. With every advance against my foes, my fighting prowess accelerates. With every blow I land, the heat of my fury ignites anew, until I am burning all but the most terrible of daemons with my very presence¡ªand those I wrestle to their knees and kill all the same. But with a gaze of gold, I see that I make no lasting difference; the hordes only ever grow in size and strength, and they only ever have something worse to throw at me.


    I do not care, because all I need to do is keep fighting.


    Keep killing.


    I am the undying horror of mankind¡¯s eternal wrath.


    I am the golden flame that ruptures through the dark.


    I am Hope, and though my shadow has fallen, I know there are other lives to live.


    I will see him yet.


    I need only break the infinite legions of the archenemy. And I shall, for I am a daughter of the Beneficent Emperor, and soon His Benediction will find me and set me free, to carry Hope¡¯s crusade amongst the stars. Perhaps there, my shadow awaits.


    ***


    As Katabasis sailed away from the Imperial bombardment, Luciene¡¯s crew brought her body out of the pool of its own blood and laid her to rest atop a plinth of cold Necron metal. When it was clear that she was gone¡ªand that clarity arrived swiftly¡ªZaer covered her limp body in the same crimson cloth she usually wore, though it was heavier now, wettened with blood. It was by that time Zet rejoined the crew from the command deck, and he and Myr looked on at Luciene¡¯s body with silent horror and disbelief. Kor¡¯Kassan and Kane, meanwhile, broke with guilt; the former from his slowness in boarding Katabasis, the latter from some intangible notion of being followed by death everywhere he went. ¡°We should never have let her return here,¡± Kane said to his palms, which held his face.


    Zaer shook his head. ¡°If you truly think you held any possibility of dictating her actions, Mon¡¯keigh, then you did not know her well enough,¡± Zaer replied, voice soft, but stern. ¡°Which is understandable¡ªyou¡¯ve barely had the time to know her at all. But there is no changing her path once she sets herself upon it.¡± Zaer looked up from Luciene¡¯s pale face and lifeless eyes, to look upon the similarly-dead visage of the Necron that had joined them, and now stood over Luciene with Warscythe in hand, like a timely¡ªif out-of-species¡ªdepiction of the Grim Reaper. ¡°Does the Inquisition pursue us?¡±


    Zet paused a moment, taken aback by Zaer¡¯s apparent emotionless sense of duty, then shook his head. ¡°They do not¡ªthey continue their bombardment of Merkalla, though what they intend to do once they¡¯ve finished¡ª¡±


    ¡°We will be gone by then,¡± Zaer declared, shrugging to dismiss the notion.


    ¡°You are¡­,¡± Zet began, looking for a word that would not incite conflict between them.


    Myr found it. ¡°Oddly calm, given your closeness with her,¡± she said, moving to and taking one of Luciene¡¯s hands in hers.


    Zaer looked back to Luciene and shrugged again. ¡°When you spend a short time with someone, you think, in na?vet¨¦, that such times may never end. But when you know someone for centuries, as I have, you live aware that ends are inevitable. You make your peace with that early, or it crushes your relationship instead,¡± he explained, again looking at Luciene¡¯s eyes, devoid of golden glimmer though they were. ¡°If you have gods, I¡¯d ask you pray to them now, for her.¡±


    You think we haven¡¯t been? Kane thought to himself, but kept his mouth shut. No one had a reply, in fact; silence gripped the room, accentuated by the fact that the Necron vessel made no ambient noise despite its intricate workings, and further exemplified still by the emptiness of the void beyond its hull. One could have heard a pin drop, as low, empty breathing was the only source of sound among the group. Finally, it was Kor¡¯Kassan, after a minute or two of deathly stillness, that broke the quiet, still gripped by his own sense of guilt though he was. ¡°How¡ªand where¡ªare we to bury her? And with what rites?¡±


    ¡°Amongst the shadows of stars,¡± Zaer answered with a nod, patting the crown of her head. ¡°It is what she has wanted. Can that be arranged, Necron?¡±


    ¡°It can, Ael¡­err¡­Zaer, as soon you¡¯d like,¡± Zet replied, stifling an urge to poke fun at the Eldar¡¯s continued refusal to address him properly. ¡°I can teleport her out when ready.¡±


    But you couldn¡¯t have teleported her in? Kane thought, but declined to say as much. Zaer scanned the room; save for Myr, who continued to tightly grip Luciene¡¯s hand with her own, it seemed as though there was no immediate obstacle or objection. Zaer looked to Myr, who, without turning to face him, was aware of his gaze. ¡°As you say, Zaer, I must have been na?ve,¡± she said, still looking at Luciene¡¯s face. ¡°I never thought her capable of dying.¡±


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    ¡°She¡¯s capable of much, Lady Nessa,¡± Zaer said softly, and put a hand atop hers. Myr had never been called a ¡®Lady¡¯ before, either, yet now, in the company of the Necron and Eldar, she had been addressed as such and as ¡®master.¡¯ She was neither a Master nor a Lady, but the compliments still sufficed to make her blush, and she eased and released her grasp of Luciene¡¯s hand as a result. ¡°Do it, Zet,¡± Zaer commanded, returning his focus to the Necron, who started at the utterance of his name from Eldar lips for the first time in millions of years.


    After his hesitation, Zet turned his scythe within his grip ever so slightly, and hammered the pommel of the weapon into the ground once. Green, fraying lights overtook Luciene¡¯s form, and after a few moments of particle deconstruction, her body and its wrappings vanished from the plinth upon which she had laid. Zet then tilted his scythe to its side, after which an intangible projection of the void beyond his vessel formed within the room, showing Luciene¡¯s body drift off between the twin prongs at the front of crescent-shaped Katabasis, Merkalla¡¯s star hanging far in the background. He nodded toward this projection, and most turned to look at it, but not Zaer.


    Zaer hoped he did not need to turn to see what was going to happen. Which is to say, he hoped something other than nothing would occur, and soon at that.


    His hopes strained as moments passed and sorrowful gazes turned away from the view of Luciene¡¯s drifting body. In time, only Zet remained an onlooker of her slow progress away from Katabasis, and even he started to move to dismiss the projection of the exterior void thereof, until Zaer held up a hand, palm forward, toward the Necron. ¡°Wait, Zet.¡± And Zet did, though his gaze fell upon Zaer. That meant, then, that none were looking outside when the void beyond filled with gold, which was probably for the best, as it would have been a blinding sight to behold. Zaer could see the glow of light upon the faces before him, and witnessed the arrival of hope inside their bearers. A smile crept upon his own face, too, even if he still had yet to turn to face the exterior display.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Myr muttered at the same time that Kane gave a ¡°It cannot be.¡± Both humans then fell to their knees in awe of the sight before them, winged as she was, and thereafter prostrated themselves and began praying to her.


    ¡°You¡¯ve known,¡± Zet asserted of Zaer, who continued to grin irrepressibly.


    ¡°I get the sense you¡¯ve suspected, too,¡± Zaer replied. ¡°Open a bay for her to board to.¡±


    ¡°How long? I have never seen this, and I have known her for¡ª¡± Kor¡¯Kassan protested in awe, but Zaer shook his head and interrupted him.


    ¡°I have seen her through two deaths before. Her last was long before any of you¡ªsave the Nemesor¡ªwould have been born,¡± Zaer explained.


    ¡°She¡¯s a Living Saint,¡± Myr claimed as she rose from the floor, though kept to her knees. ¡°As the Emperor Wills, how can that be? Especially in times as dark as these?¡±


    ¡°It may be that for dark times as these, the Emperor Wills,¡± Kane explained, also rising to his knees. ¡°Why is she here, with us, with so small a group? The Imperium would do anything for her, nearly. Legions, nay, whole Sectors would back her if they knew.¡±


    Zaer grunted and shrugged. ¡°That is why she is here with us. Luciene does not want such vast forces behind her. She does not want a holy crusade in her name, and she knows that might well follow from knowledge of her existence. Let us pray, then, that those Inquisition forces that slew her once remain unaware of her rebirth.¡± Then, at last, Zaer turned to face his winged partner as she came better into focus of Zet¡¯s displayed projection. Gold light streaked out from her in every direction, as though she were ablaze with her own stellar corona. ¡°Luciene believes she is made only to bring light to the dark. She wields colossal power, more than any I have seen among my kind or from any other, but only ever turns it against the Neverborn. Petty interspecies rivalries concern her none,¡± Zaer explained, and then looked over the group, focusing particularly on Zet. ¡°Just as they ought not weigh upon any of us.¡±


    Then, after a pause, Zaer added, ¡°She will be cold when she boards from the void beyond. You will have questions for her. I implore you to give her some space, as returning from death is a taxing task. And above all, know that this is a secret you must take to your own graves. In time, the galaxy will know of her; but let us keep that responsibility from weighing upon her shoulders today.¡±


    ***


    Luciene sat within the cold, cramped confines of her personal quarters aboard Katabasis, still glimmering in a visible aura of gold across her form. To distract herself of her own death and rebirth, she sat and thought for a time on how she might furnish her quarters up, if given the opportunity. Anything to make the dead ship around her feel more alive.


    A knock, then, at the portal to her room, stirred her from such ruminations. ¡°Enter,¡± she called, and thereafter her eyes fell to confused slits as she looked upon Zet, who entered her room following Zaer.


    ¡°Zaer asked I join him,¡± Zet explained, observing Luciene¡¯s apparent confusion.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­character growth,¡± Luciene offered, turning to Zaer.


    Zaer shrugged. ¡°Of our current crew, he and I are the only ones capable of matching a lifespan such as yours. Zet deserves to know what I do, if he¡¯s to be with you long,¡± he said, then took a seat upon a stool at Luciene¡¯s ten o¡¯clock. Zet remained standing, though was without the balancing support of his Warscythe.


    ¡°Glad to see you two are getting along,¡± Luciene smiled, and then turned back to Zet. ¡°I cannot know what you may have already learned, so ask, instead, and I shall answer what I can.¡±


    Zet nodded, but otherwise only looked over Luciene for a few moments, silently staring at the Saint before his unsocketed eyes. Eventually, his unmoving mouth glimmered with green light again, and he asked, ¡°Zaer had me jettison you into space; was that a functional decision, or¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am not solar-powered,¡± Luciene answered with a laugh. ¡°Though I cannot speak to the effects the explosion of my rebirth may have had on your vessel or the crew within. No, I imagine Zaer¡¯s wishes were of my own; if one day I do not return to the realm of the living, I do wish to be buried amongst the stars.¡±


    ¡°The shadows thereof, I believe you once told me,¡± Zaer corrected her, and she nodded in agreement. ¡°How long was it this time, Luciene?¡±


    ¡°How long?¡± Zet asked.


    Luciene nodded. ¡°When I die, Zet, I find myself on¡­ah, it¡¯s a more complicated story than that,¡± she sighed.


    Zaer took up the reigns of the background on her behalf. ¡°Luciene¡¯s earliest memories are of being rescued from what I assume to be a Space Hulk,¡± he explained. ¡°There was almost assuredly a presence of the Neverborn upon the Hulk in question.¡±


    ¡°And when I die, I find myself fighting against such foes aboard that vessel,¡± Luciene explained. ¡°I am there for an ever-increasing span of time, with each subsequent death. Mayhaps one day, they shall overwhelm me and I shall not return. This time, I was there¡­for perhaps a whole day. I feel as though I should feel exhausted,¡± she began, and then sat up straight and stretched her arms. ¡°But I don¡¯t. I¡¯m not proud to say it, but I am most certainly in my element when fighting against the daemonic.¡±


    ¡°Do you have some notion about the effects of your aura?¡± Zet asked her when she finished stretching.


    ¡°Somewhat. I know it heals people¡¯s flesh. I also know, from experience, that it allows their blows to harm beings of the Empyrean, as I do. And I can see the truth of anything that I set eyes upon; it¡¯s how I knew I could trust you, Zet, and how I knew to recruit Ishmael Kane and all the others,¡± Luciene explained.


    Zet started, and then gestured as though clearing his throat, despite not having a throat to clear. ¡°Your aura, Luciene, also makes me feel alive. Which I am not, or at least, have not thought I was. Your power is¡­unimaginable. It could give my species hope. Which to you might seem something worth aspiring to, but please heed my nihilistic warnings: my kind must not have what you are capable of giving them. All others would suffer if you did.¡±


    ¡°Are there not others like you among your kind, Zet?¡± Luciene wondered.


    ¡°There may be,¡± he admitted, shrugging. ¡°But the Dynasties have gone to great lengths to assert the will of a few over those of the many. And those few possess scarcely fewer redeemable traits. You are far better than them¡ªthan us. Anyways, questions, questions. The murals on the surface of Merkalla,¡± Zet began, but Luciene shook her head.


    ¡°Am I the Angel? Are you the Machine? We certainly look the part,¡± Luciene understood, and Zet nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But where were the rest of our crew upon that plaque, and who were those others depicted?¡± Luciene asked, rhetorically, and then shook her head in dismissal. ¡°I do not subscribe to portents of long-forgotten civilizations. I believe in making my own fate. I will tell you this, though,¡± she began, and then actually cleared her throat, unlike Zet¡¯s attempts to. ¡°I lied in dictating the Star. That was not as the mural define that being; they knew to call her Veralith, and that is a name I am most familiar with. It is she that rescued me from the Space Hulk, long ago.¡±


    ¡°I have no records of an entity by the name of ¡®Veralith¡¯ within my data-crypts,¡± Zet noted, eyes scanning upwards, not unlike others would recall their own memories.


    ¡°Nor was I familiar with the name when I first heard it,¡± Zaer admitted, agreeing with Zet.


    ¡°Regardless, I can assure you that she is very real, and I believe she is still out there. I pray to her, and on occasion receive guidance from her,¡± Luciene insisted.


    ¡°Well, I should like to meet her one day, if so,¡± Zet decided, returning his gaze to Luciene. ¡°But does that imply, then, that you do not believe yourself an agent of the human God-Emperor?¡±


    Luciene shook her head. ¡°No, I believe that I am, as I believe Veralith is too. It is His power that courses through me, as He is Anathema to the Neverborn. I believe He wants for me to shape the galaxy into what it could have been, had such great shadows never been cast upon it.¡±


    Zaer grunted, then cautioned her, ¡°He was quite Xenophobic, in His time. Ripples of which are still very much felt and enforced today, such as via the Imperium¡¯s Inquisition.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope you will note that I am not,¡± Luciene said, and accompanied her retort with a small smile. ¡°That Inquisition¡­you were right, Zaer.¡±


    ¡°I often am.¡±


    ¡°I would be wise to stay away from them,¡± Luciene nodded. ¡°And yet, just as my calling brought me here to set my eyes upon what they were looking at, I cannot help but feel I will be called to intercept them again. Surely everyone on the crew did notice my being unnerved by the Inquisition¡¯s first appearance before me, and the name of Zha Trantos. Whatever my connection to them, I am certain this is not the last time I¡ªor we¡ªwill cross paths with the Inquisition.¡±


    ¡°Then we should strive to be better prepared, and equipped, for such occurrences,¡± Zet declared, and was met with a grunt of assent from Zaer. ¡°What of your calling here? Is there a follow-up you have in mind?¡±


    Luciene shook her head. ¡°Not at this time, though I am positive that will come. I was called to see, and I saw. When I am called to respond, I shall. For now, I think it best if we put Merkalla behind us, and return to the familiar hunting grounds of Eutophoria.¡±

 Chapter 130 - Possession

    Raiders. Xenos. As lightning rippled in the upper atmosphere, their slender, jagged ships projected down upon the world in massive shadows that betrayed the truth of their small and insignificant size. There was a city, miles away from our cabin, and that was their target; skiffs and raiding parties slid out of darkened skies like a slithering snake, hauntingly perusing the city¡¯s offerings for the perfect kill or capture. Orbital defenses had fallen some hours ago; now all that remained was the panicked and desperate fighting in the city streets. I did not but watch as men, women, and children were killed or, worse, plucked into the foul grips of the depraved Xenos. Were I to intervene, if even I could, my cover would be blown and with it the last decade of my allies¡¯ efforts.


    Speaking of my allies, they were deliberating behind me while I looked out upon the terror that assaulted this world. I tried not to listen in, physically or mentally; not just for the sake of their privacy, but if they wished to keep something from the daemon, then so did I. Yet I still got the gist of what was being discussed. The sighting of something important at Merkalla, once from Zha¡¯s expedition to the world, and then another sighting by the Exclusiatis fleet that wiped Zha¡¯s findings from the galaxy.


    Whatever they found angered Mirena, and it made Silas uneasy, both emoting on my behalf. Yet Zha was compelled to show me anyways, and it sounded like she would not be denied. In a convoluted way, that made me happy; Zha was ever growing into a more impressive Inquisitor, under my shadow or on her own. I had succeeded with her, at least, if no one else. While I mused over that small victory, Mirena pouted away from the group, turning instead to face me with silent love and care. Silas brought Zha to me, though once they had approached me, they were unsure what to say. So, instead, the three of us looked out upon the world¡¯s suffering together, the heavy patter of rainfall upon wooden cabin and adamantium Knight being the only sound that graced our ears. Then, finally, Silas broke this silence. ¡°Cal,¡± he said, and that was enough to get the conversation moving.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see it, Zha,¡± I replied, still looking ahead. She cleared her throat, concerned for my having heard some of what they discussed. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear everything, but you lot need lessons from Carmichael in stealth, if that was your goal.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Zha agreed, and the tone of her voice had loosened and warmed considerably from the stern, direct approach she had taken thus far. I think my being able to speak, and the sound of my voice, thusly, disarmed her. That was concerning. ¡°In addition to some troubling ancient carvings about the daemon from a long-forgotten civilization¡ªwhich I will debrief you on should we deem it pertinent¡ªthe Exclusiatis fleet that removed the ruins of that civilization found¡­something.¡±


    ¡°I had gotten that far, Zha,¡± I said. Silas managed to grin, though it faded quickly.


    ¡°A¡­uh¡­Xenos vessel, amidst the ruins,¡± Zha started, and then cleared her throat. ¡°Per my directive, they paid it no mind and focused instead on their objective. But they kept an eye on it. And as they began their bombardment, the vessel took off into the void, though it did not go far enough to escape the fleet¡¯s broad-spectrum Auspex. They¡­,¡± she began, and then looked to Silas, who nodded solemnly. ¡°They found this, near the Xenos vessel,¡± she said, and cautiously handed me a picter, her hands shaking as she did so.


    I dreaded to see what had worried her so, but if she felt compelled to show me, the least I could do was open myself to her findings. I turned to her, ever so slightly, and as she saw the thin slice of my face that revealed itself to her, Zha¡¯s hand stopped shaking. She felt calmer, then, having seen me proper. I may have smiled to her, on instinct, I do not know. What I did or did not do upon that porch escapes my memory, as I only remember what I saw upon the picter when I took it from Zha.


    Who I saw.


    Though Zha made no mention of psychic anomalies in her report, Silas did tell me that when I took the picter and stepped out into the rain with it, the rain sizzled and steamed on impact with my body, creating a shroud of mist around my visage. I was too focused on her to notice any such occurrence. ¡°How?¡± I asked, eyes locked with hers among the jade imagery of the picter.


    ¡°I¡­, uh¡­,¡± Zha stammered, at a loss for words for approaching the subject. ¡°I¡­I did some investigating upon seeing that¡ªher. I looked for any possible explanation. And I found¡­I found The Finality,¡± she explained, and then whimpered for a moment. Silas wrapped an arm over her shoulders to bolster her. I still refused to tear my eyes from the picter. ¡°The Finality emerged into Imperial space a handful of times through the years¡ªnot since we¡­you attacked it, but long before. Once was in the Calixis Sector, in 425.M39. Another was in M37, in the Segmentum Tempestus, where The Finality was destroyed. At the time, it was near¡­Ophelia VII,¡± she explained, and I understood. Lucene¡¯s Cardinal World. As good a place as any for a Living Saint to be born from a once-Repentia, especially for one as faithful and devoted as she.


    You are being played with, the daemon said to me, pointing out the obvious. But can you see the other players at this table? I am one, yes, by your side. But who sits across from us?


    ¡°Where is she now?¡± I asked, and at last turned to face Zha and Silas, both of whom were possessed of worried looks on their faces. I also saw the rest of my retinue behind them. Mirena stood, also worried, next to the emotionless glare of synskin-clad Callidus Assassin near the front door of our cabin, and a short distance behind the cabin stood the Eximus Convictor, with Galen somewhere inside. I understood the point. If I could not process this discovery, Bliss and Galen were the best shot they had for blasting Cronos to hell. Part of me hoped Cronos understood that, too.


    Part of me hoped it didn¡¯t.


    I do.


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know, Cal,¡± Zha admitted, lips trembling. ¡°There are clues, leads to follow. That Xenos ship is one, if it can be tracked. There were other Xenos present at Merkalla when I made my expedition there, and they were being protected by that vessel; they could be tracked too.¡±


    ¡°Then let us follow the trail, and see where it leads,¡± I declared, and looked back to the picter one more time. I thumbed over Lucene¡¯s face on the display, as though I might feel the warmth of her touch again in the process. I did not.


    ¡°Us?¡± Silas and Zha asked together.


    ¡°Us,¡± I confirmed with a nod. ¡°It is no mere chance that she returns, or that you found her to show me, Zha. This is a summons, to return to the fray.¡±


    ¡°But who¡¯s doing the summoning?¡± Silas asked, ever observant, not unlike an Inquisitor himself.


    ¡°We must find out. The Emperor, perhaps, in which case we must answer His call. Or one of His enemies, in which case we must answer all the same, and perform our destined duty to Him,¡± I explained. ¡°Let us depart.¡±


    ¡°Cal, the¡­invasion,¡± Zha stammered, and nodded ahead to the Xenos that plighted the city. ¡°We cannot risk surface-to-void extraction while they hold the skies.¡±


    I stared at her a moment, anger rising from the proposed delay, and then I turned back to the Xenos assault. ¡°While they hold the skies,¡± I repeated in a murmur, and then dropped the picter to my side, held in my augmetic, while I raised my birth-arm to the thunder-borne shadows of their fleet. Again, Zha omitted any psychic anomalies from her report, but it was at that point that the rain stopped making contact with me at all¡ªor anything in my vicinity, for that matter. An abrupt end to the sounds of rainfall, now neither upon wood or adamantium. ¡°They do not hold the skies, I do,¡± I growled, and clenched my extended hand around the shadows of Xenos ships. Blood fell from my nose and from my right ear.


    I then turned back to my allies as the rain proceeded to drench my visage at last, cleaning me of the blood I had spilled from myself. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said, shattered shadows falling from the heavens upon a liberated world behind me.


    ***


    +Where you first threatened me, if you want to talk.+


    That was the only clue I gave her, and for a time I was unsure if it was enough. In the interim, I looked out the small porthole upon the fleet I had once called my own. It had expanded greatly since I had last wielded it. No longer was it the splintered fragments of a flotilla that had been battered by Valeran Mortoc and his Iron Warriors, but instead a proper, war-ready Inquisitorial Battlefleet. Zha was doing fine work in my stead, though it was clear her fear of Cronos had militarized her to an even greater extent than in which I had ever lived. Who could blame her? If it took a thousand vessels to banish Cronos back to the Empyrean, she and I both knew that would be worth it¡ªthough she did not yet possess such numbers.


    It would take more than a thousand, Cronos assured me, though I had my doubts of that. Why would you doubt such a claim? Those Drukhari we slew together wouldn¡¯t.


    It was at the daemon¡¯s taunts¡ªThose weren¡¯t taunts, I was just asking¡ªthat I at last noticed the shadows move behind me. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d come,¡± I said to them, still looking out into the void.


    ¡°Neither was I,¡± Bliss replied, and moved about the small space to stand as far from me as she could, to my left. She was still clothed in her synskin, and still hiding behind her suit¡¯s mask, two crimson globes for eyes. She held one of her arms in the other, uneasy.


    Bliss said nothing further for a time, and neither did I. What was one supposed to say to someone they had killed more than a hundred times? What were they supposed to say to you? It said enough, already, that she was even willing to join me in private here, and she knew it. She was brave beyond measure, for that. Then, at last, I found some words for her: ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± she returned with a nod.


    Silence returned.


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    Then, suddenly, ¡°I don¡¯t blame you, you know.¡±


    ¡°That makes one of us,¡± I replied.


    ¡°You can¡¯t blame yourself, Callant,¡± she insisted, shaking her head. ¡°That¡¯s what it wants.¡±


    ¡°I know. But it was my hands that did the deed and my eyes that watched. How can I not blame myself? I felt¡­,¡± I started, and then turned to her, exasperated. ¡°I felt you, inside and out. I felt your life slip between my fingers.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t real,¡± she shook her head.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it? What¡¯s real, then? This? How are we to know?¡±


    I knew the answer before she said it. ¡°Faith.¡±


    I turned away from Bliss and returned to the portcullis before me. ¡°Now you¡¯re beginning to sound like Lucene,¡± I muttered. ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s for the best.¡±


    ¡°I still have faith in you, Callant.¡±


    I winced and bit my tongue, then allowed, ¡°Then you¡¯re a fool.¡± Bliss paused, and then took a step nearer to me until I held my augmetic her way. ¡°Don¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t me that said that,¡± I told her, and then winced again. ¡°It¡¯s never fought this hard before. I think it wants to talk.¡±


    Bliss tensed up while I shirked away from her, though I kept an eye on her as I did so. ¡°It can take your tongue so freely, now?¡± Bliss asked, voice a whisper. I nodded meekly. ¡°It¡¯s getting worse,¡± Bliss said, understanding, and I nodded again. And then I felt it, a change of pace. Pained love to pained hate. I no longer looked upon a lover, but a tormenter, who for the sake of her own selfish desires kept me alive with the daemon in my head. She could end me¡ªand It¡ªin an instant, but even now chose not to. The fuming anger returned, the wrath unbridled. The worst part of me, but a part that was always there all the same. My better half succumbed and fell away.


    When I found myself in control of Blackgar¡¯s body, I was backed against the wall with a C¡¯Tan phase blade at my neck, yet I was smiling even then. ¡°Hello, girl,¡± I greeted her.


    ¡°Give him back,¡± Bliss hissed.


    ¡°In time, I shall,¡± I shrugged. ¡°But why the rush? Wouldn¡¯t you rather chat?¡±


    ¡°No, not in the slightest, daemon.¡±


    ¡°Too bad, because I¡¯m here now, and I¡¯ve wanted this for too long,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°You and I had our fill of each other a decade ago,¡± Bliss reminded me.


    ¡°A decade? Has it been so long? Time flies when you¡¯re¡­feasting,¡± I laughed. My laugh, from his lungs and of his tongue, wounded her so. It was delightful. ¡°But no, human, I shan¡¯t ever have my fill of anything, including you. Such is the curse of the Empyrean; forever, we hunger.¡±


    ¡°And I intend to see you starved,¡± Bliss shot back. ¡°Give him back.¡±


    I drawled, exasperated with her, and then shrugged. ¡°How about we cut a deal?¡±


    ¡°Not interested. Give. Me. Callant,¡± she insisted, and pressed the phase blade as close to his neck as possible without drawing blood. She was very precise.


    ¡°Blackgar is my half of the deal,¡± I said, nodding in earnest. ¡°I¡¯m not body-snatching him forever¡ªnot yet, anyways¡ªand I¡¯ll also assure you that I have no interest in harming you¡ªright now. He can¡¯t see this, he can¡¯t hear this, he can¡¯t feel this¡ªso any harm I impart upon you would be wasted on him.¡±


    Bliss paused. I had her then. Even when she asked her next question¡ª¡°What do you want?¡±¡ªI knew I could have asked anything from her. Humans were so easily maneuvered into compliance.


    ¡°First, some breathing room would be nice,¡± I said, and looked to the blade at Blackgar¡¯s neck. ¡°My kind don¡¯t need to breathe, but he does.¡± The blade retreated ever so slowly from me, but stayed drawn and pointed my way. ¡°Much better. Second, I want to chat. I want to speak to you, and I want you to respond. You¡¯ve been doing great so far, no reason you can¡¯t keep it up.¡±


    Bliss said nothing, instead staring at me, wanting of him, for moments more. ¡°I¡¯m impressed, you know,¡± I said to break the silence, and began to encircle her. She kept me at her front, before her phase blade. ¡°I imparted such suffering upon you with his hands, and still you crave him almost as much as I do, albeit in a different way. Your love for him has not diminished, it has merely been shunted away behind the veil of fear. But were I not here, well, you¡¯d be upon him in an instant, wouldn¡¯t you, as a lioness leaps upon her prey?¡± I suggested. Silence followed. ¡°OK, you¡¯re doing a bit worse now at this conversing thing.¡±


    ¡°I was meant to respond to that?¡± she asked. ¡°Why does a daemon seek confirmation of what it already seems to know? Yes, I am avaricious, and in my own ways, I am hungry just as you are. But I am confident that is where any similarities I share for a creature as foul as yourself must end.¡±


    I stepped close to her then, and when she sought to defend herself with her phase blade, I willed her arm aside and kept her still. Just as she had earlier pressed it to my neck as near as could be without making contact, I did the same but with a grin pressed to her face, flashing Blackgar¡¯s shiny, white fangs before her. ¡°In truth, you know,¡± I whispered to her, as she began to cry from behind the faux-protection of her mask. ¡°He craves you too. You two would make for a fabulously self-sufficient couple. You¡¯d be wonderful together. Which is why I can¡¯t allow it.¡±


    ¡°Damn you,¡± she hissed, voice then but a whimper, but held her ground.


    ¡°You know not of damnation, though I have given you a taste,¡± I replied, and then snapped Blackgar¡¯s jaw her way. She at last backed off from that, shaking as she retreated across the room from me. ¡°Enough pleasantries,¡± I said, and laughed at the notion. What was so appetizing to me had scared the deadly assassin sheepish. ¡°Let¡¯s talk business, while I still have him,¡± I began, and then contorted Blackgar¡¯s head to the side as I shifted his vocal coords around. ¡°It can take your tongue so freely, now?¡± I quoted Bliss, then speaking in her voice from Blackgar¡¯s mouth¡ªnow that scared her, which was wonderful. I then returned Blackgar¡¯s vocals to normal. ¡°Who¡¯s to say I haven¡¯t always been able to? When Blackgar so dutifully declared to set out upon the path of Lucene¡¯s return, were those his words? Are you on his quest, or mine?¡±


    Then, back to Bliss¡¯s voice: ¡°It wasn¡¯t real,¡± I quoted her again.


    Blackgar¡¯s voice: ¡°Is this real, little girl?¡±


    ¡°This is business, is it?¡± she asked, voice fluttering.


    ¡°It is, because I need you to understand that I¡¯ve been in control for far more than a decade,¡± I revealed to her, and her shaking stopped as she froze in place, overwhelmed with the horrifying truth. ¡°There are moments in Blackgar¡¯s life in which I have been entirely hands-off, choices he¡¯s had to make that would weigh less in the cosmos had I intervened. But when I¡¯ve wanted, I have ever been able to nudge Blackgar to say or do what I have wanted. He has only ever had free will when I allowed it. This is not his story, it is mine, and you and that savant need to understand it.¡±


    I stepped nearer to Bliss, then, and she tried to back away further, but her back was already to a wall. ¡°Do you suppose it was he that slept with you, that felt the warmth inside you, that granted you each some temporary solace? Or was it me, arranging for the future despair that brought you here? Oh, to sleep with a daemon, girl, tsk-tsk,¡± I taunted her.


    ¡°You lie,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Why would I lie about this?¡±


    ¡°To plant the seed of doubt in my head,¡± she answered. Impressive. ¡°To make me question reality. To make me shy away from any possibility of goodness with him.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re thinking like a daemon,¡± I laughed, nodding happily. ¡°Very good. Perhaps I lie. Perhaps I don¡¯t. You¡¯ll need to live with that, while I let you live at all. But I will give you one beneficial clue as to what the future holds: it was not your Corpse-Emperor that summoned you and Blackgar to chase after his lost wife. In truth, you¡¯ll find in your summoner an enemy you and I will share. And the enemy of my enemy¡­¡±


    ¡°Is not my ally, and never will be,¡± she hissed, and likely would have spat at me if not for her mask.


    I shrugged. ¡°Eh. You say that now. But you haven¡¯t met them yet. You¡¯ve heard their name before, though. On Aerialon. Do you remember?¡±


    ¡°Some Phaenonite, out for revenge?¡± Bliss suggested, and I sank away, depressed that she was apparently unable to maintain her earlier wit.


    ¡°As though a Phaenonite could summon Living Saints into existence,¡± I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯ll get there, I suppose; no need for me to rush things further. Now, in the immediate: your reward.¡±


    ¡°Reward?¡±


    ¡°For putting up with me,¡± I nodded. ¡°It must have been so hard, these last few moments. Imagine doing it for a decade! As if!¡± I laughed, pointing to myself, to Blackgar¡¯s flesh. Oh, I sensed that wounded her so. ¡°But such is your reward. I have expended such energy to take him now that I will not be bothering him for some time ahead. So, congrats. For facing your fears, you¡¯ve bought him some sliver of time to himself while I recover what I¡¯ve spent. Rejoice in that, pat yourself on the back for a job well done, you¡¯ve earned it. But know that even if I am not the one behind the words, I will always be listening to them. Catch,¡± I said, and at last let go.


    When I came to, I found myself in darkness, joined only by a low, pulsating thump around me. A heartbeat, and a familiar one at that; I had heard hers plenty of times, and knew right where I was. ¡°This counts as cheating, you know,¡± I told Bliss, my voice muffled into her chest. She giggled to herself, and then I felt two arms¡ªwhich had already been wrapped around me¡ªtighten around my shoulders and back. ¡°Did It hurt you?¡±


    ¡°Not in the way you mean,¡± she whispered in reply, and held me even tighter still. In the few times we had laid together, she had always been on top of me, intentionally weighing me down beneath her experimentally-increased muscle density. But not now; now, I was atop her, cushioned by her soft, gentle body and held inescapably within her embrace. ¡°Do you love me, Callant?¡±


    I paused a moment, then joked, ¡°A hell of a question to ask a captive.¡±


    She did not bite. ¡°Do you love me?¡± she repeated instead.


    ¡°I do, Bliss, yes,¡± I answered, and at last wrapped my arms around her as best I could, though there was not much give in squeezing them between her backside and the adamantium floors behind her. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I needed to know the truth¡ªthat truth¡ªthough I already felt I did,¡± she explained. I understood. I did not know the specifics, but whatever the daemon had done in my absence, it had tested her beliefs. Now, she needed reaffirmation. To that end, she then asked a question that may have seemed to be the furthest-possible thing from a reasonable follow-up: ¡°Do you want to die?¡±


    I sat¡ªor, rather, laid¡ªwith that question for a few moments. It would have been trivially easy now, as deep in her clutches as I was. Zha would understand, as would Silas. Mirena would be distraught, irrecoverably so, as heartbroken as Bliss would be. But two broken hearts was a small price to pay to banish a daemon. And yet¡­, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Think about it,¡± Bliss said, and then I felt her wrap her two large, thick, plasteel-beam-like legs around my lower body, further pressing me against the synskin that barely separated me from her flesh. ¡°How long do we have, do you think, before Mirena worries for you?¡±


    ¡°Uh, negative a few hours,¡± I suggested, and she allowed herself a laugh, though it was a small one, barely more than a chuckle. ¡°I should likely be back to her within the hour.¡±


    ¡°Then take half an hour, and decide whether you¡¯re returning to her or receiving the Emperor¡¯s Mercy. I¡¯ll keep you here, warm and safe, in the meantime,¡± she said, and lifted one arm from my shoulders to pat the back of my head. So I did. Were it not for the gravity of the situation, I would have relished in Bliss¡¯s eroticism as she was. But then, I doubted, I was not sure if she was. Just as Mirena had wanted to die in love in Firestation Ariadne, perhaps Bliss wanted to offer me that same possible ending. It was silly, and playful, but our relationship with each other always had been. That was what I loved about her¡ªfor as grim and terrible as the galaxy, and her existence in it, may have been, she still found the time and appreciation for some play here and there. She ever hoped for a place and time to enjoy some solace amongst stars aflame.


    How could I give up hope for that, when she maintained it after all she had endured? No, I took my half hour with her, because I knew she wanted it too, but when the time was up, I decided, ¡°No, Bliss. I¡¯d rather live.¡±


    ¡°Then we live,¡± she agreed, and released me from her arms, though kept her legs wrapped around me. I had just enough freedom of movement to lift my skull from her bosom, and so at last saw her face, for the first time in a decade; she had taken her mask off. She smiled at me, though her crimson eyes were reddened in their whites, and her face was wettened with tears long gone. Cronos had done something to bring her to weeping. ¡°Hi,¡± she said, softly.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I returned. ¡°Are you OK?¡±


    ¡°No worse off than you are,¡± she shrugged.


    ¡°That bad?¡±


    She lifted a synskin hand to my face, holding me gently, and then at last released my lower body from the vice-like grip of her thighs. I still did not get off her entirely even so. ¡°I miss you,¡± she whispered to me then. I nodded in return. ¡°Half an hour,¡± she started, and then snorted. ¡°Oh, to have half a century with you, Callant.¡±


    ¡°One day, Bliss,¡± I said, though without enough confidence to claim it was an assurance.


    ¡°When this is over, if we make it out alive, I¡¯m taking you on a vacation of my own, as Mirena would back in the day. And it won¡¯t be a short one, nor will I make it easy on you,¡± she admitted, giving me a wink.


    ¡°I think we¡¯ll have earned that,¡± I agreed.


    She nodded, mouthed a kiss for me, and then said, ¡°Let¡¯s get you back to Mirena, hm?¡±

 Chapter 131 - Cycles

    Shadows whipped around Kane¡¯s wrists and ankles, wispy black tendrils as they were. As Kane pushed himself to his feet from his front, an impossibly mighty sight emerged from the darkness before him. A world, shattered, against the backdrop of the void and the colorful, gaping maw of the Cicatrix Maledictum. A trillion, trillion smaller jaws descended upon the broken planet, a Hive Fleet of the Great Devourer. But that was wrong; they did not assail the planet, no, but rather the Blackstone Fortress that orbited it. Kane had learned as many in the Guard had, and knew the foul station for what it was, for its kind had been the instrument through which the Arch-Heretic had broken Cadia. Untold profane energies and weaponry struck out from the orbital Fortress as it defended itself from the hungering swarm, but Kane also noted that which could not be called a weapon; rather, from the Fortress came titanic arcs of witchcraft and foul Warp-manipulation. A powerful sorcerer, surely of the archenemy, was aboard the Fortress.


    INSIGNIFICANT.


    The voice boomed from all around Kane, and thrust him to a defensive squat as he covered his ears in futility. Yet, for all his searching, Kane could not find the source of the voice, and what was more, upon reflection Kane believed the word to be asked in the form of a question, and not a statement. It was at that realization that Kane¡¯s eyes finally found the woman standing before him under the warzone above, her lower legs also hidden from view amidst the shadows below.


    ¡°Are you insignificant?¡± she asked him, her voice much quieter, softer, and spoken with an accent that carried her words like a dance through the wind.


    ¡°Compared to all this?¡± Kane scoffed, and stepped nearer to the woman. As he did so, a streak of gold burst out from the Blackstone Fortress, gilded lights clashing with blue flames. Luciene¡¯s power, contested against something within the ancient weapons platform. Whatever warzone was far ahead, it was a fight the likes of which only she could deal with, certainly not Kane. ¡°Compared to her?¡± Kane added, pointing to the tiny speck of gold amidst a sea of violence. ¡°Yes, I should say I am.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we are,¡± the woman agreed, inserting herself into the evaluation. Kane regarded the woman more closely. She was a vision unto herself, beauty an inadequate word to describe her form. Silver eyes glimmered against a face of brass and under a crown of shaven brown hair. One of her arms was augmetic, but the rest of her body below her neckline was hidden away behind a pilot¡¯s bodyglove. ¡°Our kinds are not made for any of this,¡± the woman declared, and Kane nodded in agreement. ¡°Yet does that not mean that our contributions, if we can make them, are all the more important?¡±


    ¡°How is a mere man supposed to contribute against forces of that magnitude?¡± Kane asked, exasperated, pointing toward the swarm.


    ¡°Ishmael Kane,¡± the woman began, and Kane blinked from the utterance of his full name. ¡°Keep her safe, the angel. Steer her right, as I must save him from himself.¡±


    ¡°Who from who¡¯s-self?¡± Kane asked. The woman grinned, and clutched at her chest, over her heart, but otherwise did not answer his question directly.


    Instead, she changed the subject entirely: ¡°Catch.¡±


    ¡°Catch what?¡± Kane asked, looking briefly to the black void above him before returning his gaze to the mystery-woman. He then succeeded in catching an augmetic fist to his face, and his view went black for good.


    ***


    Kane awoke with a start in a familiar bed. No more wispy shadows. No more Blackstone Fortress, shattered world, or Hive Fleet. No mystery woman breaking his face in. ¡°What the hell?¡± Kane muttered to himself, and rested his head in his hands for a few moments. When his stomach growled, he looked up and finally slid himself out from his bedding, standing to his feet and stretching out a bit. Then he decided to put his strange dream behind him and try to find food on Eutophoria.


    As he set out from his room, food found him. ¡°Oop!¡± Myr cried, walking past Kane¡¯s door the moment he opened it. She was carrying some sort of breakfast on a plate back to her room. ¡°Morning, sleepy,¡± she greeted him. ¡°Want some?¡±


    ¡°Uh, what is it?¡± Kane asked, loosing a yawn in the process.


    ¡°Food,¡± Myr said dryly.


    ¡°I can smell that,¡± Kane rolled his eyes, but nevertheless took a handful of it from Myr¡¯s plate and bit into it. Whatever it was, it was not bad.


    Perhaps seeing Kane¡¯s approval of the breakfast, Myr nodded down the hall she had come from. ¡°Kor¡¯Kassan made it. There¡¯s more in the kitchen,¡± she explained. ¡°You have bed hair. Want me to comb it for you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good, thanks,¡± Kane shook his head, and snuck past Myr¡¯s side to head for the kitchen while she continued her journey to eat in her room alone. Kane made his way through the otherwise-empty apartment and into the kitchen, where indeed, Kor¡¯Kassan was cooking up more of whatever it was Kane had had a bite of. Kane nodded to the T¡¯au, who nodded in return, before fixing himself a plate. ¡°Thanks,¡± Kane said, and Kor¡¯Kassan nodded again, with an added grunt of approval. ¡°Where are the others?¡±


    ¡°Zaer¡¯s around. Roof, probably, keeping a lookout¡ªwhich is to say, keeping to himself,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan explained. ¡°Zet¡­vanished. Couldn¡¯t tell you where to or when he¡¯ll be back. Perhaps he¡¯s also on the roof, bothering the Eldar,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan grunted.


    ¡°And Luciene?¡± Kane asked through a mouthful of food.


    ¡°On walkabout. I imagine she wanted some fresh air and alone time after, you know, dying. She likes strolling the streets, seeing new faces.¡±


    ¡°I can relate,¡± Kane said, and Kor¡¯Kassan glanced his way. ¡°Not to the dying part. But I¡¯m fixing for a walk too. You¡¯re welcome to join me.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate it, but I have work that needs doing here,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan shrugged. ¡°Invite Nessa if you want company; she so rarely leaves her room, though that has begun to change since you¡¯ve joined our crew. Regardless, I¡¯m sure she¡¯d like to stretch her legs after being cramped in the quarters of Zet¡¯s ship for a few days.¡±


    In tight red leggings and a loose-in-the-wind crimson leather jacket that covered a black bodice, Nessa Myr only mostly looked the part of her Death Cult background while traipsing about the streets of Eutophoria. For his part, Ishmael Kane looked about as he felt: perfectly ordinary, wearing an unassuming tan field jacket over a sky-blue shirt and sandy cargo pants. The pair left from their apartment without saying much of anything, and continued a ways until Myr pointed out that the silence made for quite the awkward date. ¡°A date? Doesn¡¯t that seem a bit¡­boyish?¡± Kane suggested.


    ¡°Is that not what you were asking for?¡± Myr wondered.


    ¡°And you said yes to that?¡± Kane said, cheeks reddening, and then he shrugged the possibility off before she answered. ¡°No, I asked if you cared to join me for a walk because¡­well, so that I didn¡¯t get lost on my walk.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, I¡¯d be happy to be your guide, Ishmael,¡± Myr told him. If she cared about her not-a-date being as such, she did not evidence her emotions in her tone of voice or choice of words. ¡°Where to?¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s this bar¡ª¡±


    ¡°Operated by Cornelius, yes, I know it. Luciene had said that¡¯s where she found you,¡± Myr nodded, then strode ahead of Kane and turned to face him, then backpedaling. ¡°You¡¯re not a romantic, are you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Kane said at once, and the flatness of his response urged a laugh from Myr. ¡°You are, though,¡± Kane observed.


    Myr shrugged and spun on her heels again, away from Kane. ¡°I just like to believe there¡¯s something better than blood amongst the stars. There¡¯s so much darkness and despair, so much pain, and when the pain leaves it fades to stoic numbness. There has to be more than that for us out there, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never given it much thought,¡± Kane admitted. ¡°Luciene would argue for some hope out there. But you believe in love?¡±


    Myr nodded. ¡°Fear is a paralytic, as we discussed when we first met. Hope cures that paralysis. But love is a motivator, a different salve that more acutely counteracts the effects of fear,¡± she explained, and then glanced over her shoulder to Kane and winked to him. ¡°Unless you¡¯re afraid of love, of course.¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of love,¡± Kane growled in response.


    And that was true. And much though the former Death Cult Assassin made him uneasy, Kane could not deny to himself that he found Myr quite attractive. Her amber eyes blazed against the darkness of the rest of her visage, and the tightly-knotted musculature of her body, paired with the tightness of her usual attire, was very easy on Kane¡¯s own eyes. Yet at the thought of love, Kane thought, instead, to the dream he had been punched out of that morning. Of the brass-skinned woman with eyes of glimmering silver.


    ¡°The boy has a crush on someone, methinks,¡± Myr said, once more backpedaling in front of Kane. ¡°Is it me, I wonder?¡±


    ¡°Nessa, I¡ª,¡± Kane started, stammered, and then shook his head dismissively. ¡°You are very pretty. And you¡¯ve been very kind, welcoming, and endearing for me, where I¡¯ve instead reciprocated only some general sense of lost-ness. But I¡¯m not pining for you, no,¡± he explained, and then feared some form of retaliation. It dawned on him, likewise, that Myr would be able to sniff out his fear.


    Yet no retaliation came. Not immediately, anyways. ¡°Oh how polite and patient you are, Ishmael, despite my best poking and prodding,¡± she replied, and then loosed what Kane would describe as a giggle, which utterly disarmed him of his fears. She turned away from him again. ¡°What did I call you when Luciene introduced us, but my plaything? So, I play. Somehow, you¡¯ve found the wherewithal to put up with me. I appreciate it, but you needn¡¯t be my lover. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s someone out there for us both, if not each other.¡± She then looked over her shoulder again, eyes squinting. ¡°Admittedly, however, I don¡¯t imagine Luciene will soon be recruiting another human to her crew. So we¡¯re stuck with each other in that regard.¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯re worse humans to be stuck with,¡± Kane suggested.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that the truth? Anyways, here we are,¡± Myr declared, stopping in her stride to gesture widely to Cornelius¡¯s bar. Kane had not been paying attention to the path taken, and so was a bit taken aback that they had seemingly arrived out of nowhere. ¡°Place seems to be mid-repairs. Something to do with your slaying an Ork, I imagine?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Come on,¡± Kane said, and pushed some newly-installed doors open to step inside the familiar establishment. Myr waited a few moments before following behind him. Neither of them was prepared for what they saw inside.


    ¡°We have company,¡± Cornelius said to the lone patron at his newly-refurbished and recently-buffed bar.


    ¡°I had said they¡¯d arrive, hadn¡¯t I?¡± Luciene replied, hands folded over a shot glass that had not been so much as sipped from by the angel.


    ¡°What the¡ªbut¡ª,¡± Kane stammered, slowly approaching the bar.


    Cornelius held his hands up defensively, sensing that Kane might feel a tinge of betrayal. ¡°Now, son, listen¡ªI meant what I had said about this one,¡± Cornelius urged, and tapped his head to the side, toward Luciene. ¡°We weren¡¯t scheming against you, if that¡¯s what you think. In fact, this is the first and only time I¡¯ve served her anything, and she doesn¡¯t appear to be much of a drinker anyways. But a patron¡¯s a patron¡­even though the establishment is clearly closed, which is apparently doing nothing to ward you lot off,¡± he explained, and pointed a hand toward the signage at the front of his bar. ¡°If anything, boy, you have a knack for bringing odd women into my bar. Hello, Nessa.¡±


    ¡°Hi, Cornelius,¡± Myr replied, and sat a few seats down from Luciene, eyeing the angel with some curiosity.


    ¡°You two know each other?¡± Kane frowned, temporarily taking his eyes off the angel in the room.


    ¡°Gotta get my stash from somewhere,¡± Myr said with a shrug, referring to her magazines. ¡°Why are you here, though?¡± she asked Luciene.


    ¡°Pretend I¡¯m not, for a moment. You weren¡¯t expecting me, and Ishmael has something he wanted to do here, isn¡¯t that right?¡± Luciene answered.


    Kane sighed, shook his head, and muttered, ¡°Never an ordinary day anymore.¡± He then strode up to the bar himself, and drew his piece before placing it on the counter, where he then pushed it toward Cornelius. ¡°Thanks. It¡­helped. But I don¡¯t need it anymore.¡±


    Cornelius eyed the stub weapon with gentle curiosity, then noted, ¡°It hasn¡¯t been fired.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t need that kind of help,¡± Kane replied.


    Cornelius paused for a moment more, then pushed the piece back toward Kane. ¡°Someday you may. Especially when you keep company like these two,¡± he said. ¡°`sides, I don¡¯t want it. My gunslinging days are decades behind me. Weapon like that¡¯d blow my own arm off.¡± With one glance at Cornelius¡¯s face and build, Kane knew every bit of the last two sentences was not true, but he also knew it was true that Cornelius did not want the pistol anymore.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Kane allowed, and took the weapon back, holstering it on his side. ¡°I guess. Why are you here, then, Luciene?¡± he asked, and took a seat between the secretive angel and the playful once-assassin.


    ¡°Where do lost souls go but to old Cornelius?¡± Cornelius asked in the third person. ¡°That¡¯s how you got here, boy. For all her mysticism, sometimes even a¡­whatever she is needs to be able to talk to a stranger sometimes.¡±


    ¡°You are far from the first bartender I¡¯ve lamented to,¡± Luciene smiled to Cornelius.


    ¡°And you are far from the last oddity I¡¯ll have sitting in that seat,¡± he returned.


    Luciene¡¯s smile widened at his jest, then faded as she looked to each of her human crew members. She then lifted blackened hands in front of herself, holding empty palms for a moment before tensing them into fists. ¡°You two know what I am, now. Yet I still don¡¯t¡ªrather, I don¡¯t know why I am. I have some intuition¡ªI have things I¡¯m very good at, for instance¡ªbut from all I¡¯ve studied of myself, I have learned that my existence must be very deliberate. There¡¯s a motive to my life. And I don¡¯t¡ªWhat?¡±


    Both Kane and Myr had fallen to shared chuckling, they clearly being in on a joke Luciene was unaware of. When questioned on it, Myr explained, ¡°That¡¯s a very normal feeling to have, Luciene. ¡®The meaning of life,¡¯ if there is such a thing, haunts all mankind. You are only human, after all.¡±


    Am I? Luciene thought, but kept her thoughts to herself while outwardly joining her fellows¡¯ blithe mood. Cornelius did not weigh in, instead stepping a short distance away from the trio to wipe down another part of his newly-installed countertop. Luciene noted he was still within earshot, however. After a handful of artificial laughs which, despite their forcedness, still sufficed to further ease the tension Kane had added to the room upon his arrival, Luciene reflected for a moment. Perhaps, she allowed, her compatriots were right. Perhaps what she was feeling was only human. Yet for all her years, her gut now churned differently, alien, from any discomfort it had produced prior.


    Nevertheless, answers, Luciene realized, would not find her here, and there was no immediate use in probing her compatriots nor Cornelius further. Instead, she pushed the haunting questions aside, and, with a sigh, returned to looking outwardly at the universe, rather than inwardly upon herself. And in the universe, she found two things: One, an unsolved mystery regarding Cornelius, but it was not prudent for her to know his business; Two, a trembling disquietude within Kane, which she felt compelled to ease. Her eyes met his for a moment, after which his previously casual demeanor returned to tension. ¡°You are burdened,¡± she asserted then.


    ¡°That¡¯s familiar behavior,¡± Kane noted, the last vestiges of a grin leaving his lips in his reply. ¡°I¡­you wish to know?¡± Luciene nodded. ¡°Alright.¡±


    Kane recounted his dream to his audience with minor haste, and only afterward felt he must have missed something in it, for the dream had not lasted as long to describe as it had been to experience. When he had finished, he turned to face Myr, who had put a hand on his right shoulder. ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re insignificant,¡± Myr said, shaking her head.


    ¡°Nor do I,¡± Luciene agreed.


    Kane pivoted to face the angel, Myr¡¯s hand falling from his body in the process, and frowned. ¡°Not an unexpected reply, yet rich all the same, from you,¡± he said.


    ¡°You hold me with some reverence.¡±


    Kane scoffed. ¡°How could I not? You¡¯re a frigging Living S¡ª,¡± he began, softly, but still caught himself. Cornelius was nearby. Within earshot of normal conversation, but perhaps not able to hear Kane¡¯s near-release of Luciene¡¯s secret. Their bartender made no immediate reaction to the utterance, so it seemed to the trio that the angel¡¯s secret a secret remained. ¡°You are human, Luciene, you must be. Yet you are far more than any human I know. What you could do¡­,¡± he started, but shook his head and did not finish the thought. He was too hopeful to limit himself to his own vocabulary.


    ¡°And what could you do, Ishmael Kane?¡± she asked. He perked up, like a student not understanding the question posed. ¡°A trillion souls perish throughout the galaxy daily, if not faster. Is there some universal law that dictates that any single one is incapable of greatness? That is not the world I believe I live in. Armies rise and fall daily. Yet here you are with years under your belt. Think of all you have seen in your time, and know that what you have seen, you have overcome. Is the Ishmael Kane that sits aside me now not a legend in his own right?¡±


    Kane stared at her, owlish, before allowing himself to blink at last when it was clear her proclamation had concluded. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ordinary, Luciene,¡± he said then.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I don¡¯t have wings, for one, Kane thought to himself, but wisely kept the thought from leaving his lips this time. ¡°What else could I be?¡±


    Luciene raised a blackened hand to Kane¡¯s face, and held his head for a moment. He leaned into the grasp, finding himself calmed, at peace, within her subtle radiance. It was, as ever, her effect on people; oh, how she hoped that one day, she would disarm someone not via otherworldly powers, but through some manner of genuine connection. After the brief reverie thereof, Luciene answered Kane, ¡°I know that when the time comes, Ishmael Kane, you will be extraordinary. That is why I found you in the first place. And that time will come, when you leave even me in awe of what you are capable of.¡± Luciene then lowered her arm to her side again. ¡°Before it does, mayhap I should bug Kor¡¯Kassan for some of his cooking. Care to join me on the journey home?¡±


    Home, Kane thought, and glanced to Cornelius, who was still cleaning away. He blinked once, hard, and then looked back at Luciene. ¡°Sure, if you wouldn¡¯t mind. Nessa?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Lady Nessa to the likes of you, oh extraordinary one,¡± she taunted him as she and Luciene rose from their stools.


    ***


    It was minutes more before Cornelius had finished wiping down his new countertop installation. All in all, the post-Orkish cleaning and repairs had done a fine job at improving the quality of his establishment, and he had already managed to serve a trio of customers despite not even being open at the time! Fortuitous signs of the future, to be sure.


    With a sigh, Cornelius dropped the rag he had been using in cleaning into a bin to be washed later, and meandered over to the far edge of his counter. He reached below and found the protrusion therein, where his fingers traced around the edge of the =]I[= shape installed under its lip. He sighed again, and then thumbed the button inward, firm, and without interrupt. ¡°Blessed Emperor,¡± he muttered to himself, and shook his head in dismay before continuing his prayer.


    ¡°Spare the boy.¡±

 Chapter 132 - Genesis

    ¡°Sergeant Hektad Theros to Shatterwrath bridge, package has been secured from the Finality but our extract was interdicted. We have made emergency landing on Ophelia, requesting secondary extraction or repair crew.¡±


    Garbled, static vox was the only reply the Sergeant received. Theros waited a moment, then stomped a few paces to stand before Brother Alcandar. He pressed a fist into the boneweave adorning Alcandar¡¯s ceramite chestplate. ¡°Climb that ridge. Broadcast our request from its peak,¡± he ordered.


    ¡°It will be done, Brother,¡± Alcandar agreed, and set off from the group.


    ¡°And the rest of us?¡±


    ¡°We wait, and guard the package, Brother Caspio,¡± Theros said. There, their conversation ended, and the Tactical Squad separated in stoicism while awaiting further instructions.


    Their vigil did not last long before further ¡®interdiction¡¯ arrived. Each of the Astartes Brothers sensed something amiss, given their psychic backgrounds. But none could place what or how without visible confirmation on some form of anomaly. I was that anomaly, and my first strike, while intended for Sergeant Theros, instead impaled Brother Demeus as he, on instinct, pushed his Sergeant aside. The jagged blue streak of light, like lightning, slid through Demeus¡¯s body back-to-front, and he was, for a moment, rendered inert from its instantaneous arrival.


    ¡°Contact!¡± Brother Drakan shouted. ¡°Where is Alcandar?¡±


    ¡°Gone,¡± I answered with some amusement. It was the only thing I had to say to these Damned, and they still had yet to lay eyes upon me.


    ¡°Demeus, are you alright?¡± Theros asked of him, getting to his own feet. Demeus did not reply with words, instead struggling against the bindings of his impalement as spectral orange flames slid over his stygian armor. Demeus¡¯s hands tightened over the blue lightning emerging from his gut, perhaps attempting to break through my stabbing power. It was not enough, and after a surge of energy, the light that had pierced him exploded outward, erupting through Demeus and turning the Astartes into a column of dust and smoke.


    For their part, Demeus¡¯s brothers were not emotionally taken by their comrade¡¯s obliteration. It was Brother Caspio that first laid eyes upon me at last, and pointed me out. ¡°Abomination, above, at our thirty!¡± Before their helmets¡¯ targeting apparatus picked me out, and before their genetically enhanced eyes had focused on my form, their Bolters trained on me in unison and opened fire. No projectiles reached my skin, of course, each one disintegrating into cobalt sparks when they neared. With a flick of one of my four wrists, a wave of the Empyrean washed over the scene. It consumed Caspio. Drakan and Theros, however, had by then engulfed themselves in their protective contagion, orange flames billowing out from the boney accoutrements of their ceramite armor. Not only that, but they ran forward, under the arc of Blue Fire as I unleashed it, escaping the brunt of the attack that had devoured Caspio.


    It was a futile prolonging of the inevitable. I turned my gaze to Drakan, and for a moment he and I locked eyes. Seeing into my gaze sufficed to melt his mind in a single pulse of his twinned heartbeats. As Drakan collapsed to the ground in a deathly thud, I neglected the continuation of Sergeant Theros¡¯s life, and landed to the ground a short distance from my quarry. She was stirring, soon to wake. I could feel His accursed involvement already coursing through her veins. She would be a child of Gold, that much was certain, lest Tchar involve itself directly with my plans, which did not seem likely at the time. But even a child of Gold could be swayed to corruption.


    ¡°Abomination!¡± Theros called, reminding me of his continued existence. I turned, casual, to face him. He was reloading his Bolt weapon. ¡°How can one such as you set foot upon a Shrine world such as this?¡±


    ¡°Are you not Damned as well?¡± I asked, and whisked another hand his way. He attempted to dodge whatever attack he believed I had conjured, but there was no dodging the oceanic spillage of a raw tear in reality. Granted, I closed the rift as swiftly as it had opened, so as not to evidence my appearance on the world, but when it had gone, so, too, had Theros¡¯s presence. I turned back to my quarry, and just in time to find her eyes fluttering. Indeed, their lids hid beneath them a pool of gold, and while it did burn to gaze upon, I saw in them that I had arrived in time. His power may have bled into her, but His will had not.


    I had ¡®interdicted¡¯ the Corpse God in that manner as well as I had His servants.


    ¡°Welcome, sweet child. I have long awaited your arrival. Take my hand; there is much for you to learn and to see,¡± I greeted her as her eyes more wholly opened. I had, for her, assumed the human visage I once possessed, and had likewise extended a pale palm toward her. A hand of blackened flesh fell into my grasp as she reached up to me. ¡°I am Veralith, and you mean so much to me. More than you shall ever know.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Well? You wanted to see me?¡±


    Veralith nodded, and spun to face her addressor while the continents of Cthcaris melted into a slurry of crimson in the background. Another world sacrificed into the fathomless depths of the Undivided Cataclysm¡¯s depravities. ¡°Brother,¡± she greeted him.


    ¡°Sister,¡± Lunacius replied, unamused. ¡°What do you want of me?¡±


    ¡°All these millennia together, and you still aren¡¯t one for small talk,¡± she said, amused. ¡°You continue to duel your blood-brother.¡±


    ¡°And I continue to best him,¡± he added. Veralith nodded, aware of his unending victory streak. But she, unlike Lunacius, was well aware that if Kharnath wanted Lunacius¡¯s skull for his throne, Mordefir was more than capable of providing it. Lunacius was the duelist of their quartet, perfect in all things, including battle. But Mordefir was a slaughterer, and though it may bloody them both, it would be he, undoubtedly, that would stand victorious in a bout to the death. This was good; Veralith always preferred his company over Lunacius¡¯s, anyways.


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    ¡°Your duels must stop,¡± she declared, similarly aware that this would be displeasing.


    Lunacius was taken aback for a moment, then sneered and walked closer to his sister-of-bond. ¡°Our duels have been daily since the days of Vaktez. We have not ceased our betterment in this regard for literal eons. We will not stop at the demands of a winged harpy like¡ª¡±


    By then, Lunacius had stepped up to Veralith, towering over her smaller, more fragile-looking form. But looks, she knew, could be deceiving, and despite his frustration, Lunacius froze in his objections from a single glance into his sister¡¯s unconcerned, confident eyes. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d like to duel this harpy, serpent?¡± she offered with a wicked grin.


    ¡°I¡­no, I¡­you¡­,¡± Lunacius stammered, and backed away a step, then another.


    ¡°No?¡± she faked a frown. ¡°Have you ever seen a serpent caught in the talons of a raven? Have you seen one¡¯s skin pulled back by a beak? I think, given your sudden paling complexion, you must have, brother mine,¡± Veralith said, and then horrified him further with a chilling laugh. She took a step toward him, and he took another step back. ¡°Do you know that Tchar once ruled the Empyrean, and that it took the combined might of the Great Game¡¯s other participants to even the playing field? Know, my serpentine brother, that I am not keen to repeat that mistake, and that I do not fear you nor any coalition you could amass, so skip any attempt at intimidation with me and do as I say, would you?¡±


    Lunacius¡¯s lips tensed, then trembled, then pursed again. The serpent had caught its tongue, for once. After a pause, he managed, ¡°May I ask why our duels must end?¡±


    ¡°Because I expect you two are soon to fight a being of our caliber, and I would not have you bloodying yourselves the day before such a bout,¡± she answered, and turned away from him, to look back upon the gored remains of Cthcaris.


    Lunacius, now no longer being menaced by his bond-sister, rebuilt his composure, sliding thin, daggerlike fingers through the coiled tendrils he called ¡®hair¡¯ atop his angled head. In every microcosm, he was a serpent, simply not at the macroscopic level where he still appeared vaguely humanoid, save for possessing a slithering tail that had, during the stare down with his sister, sheepishly hid between his legs. Now it slid beyond and stretched out, long, viperlike, waiting to lash upon his prey. Alas, no such prey existed in the room with him. Instead, with a sigh, he re-engaged his sister. ¡°Who with?¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡± she asked, showing him some mercy by not turning to face him.


    ¡°With who am I to have this bout of which you speak?¡±


    ¡°Cronos,¡± she said, voice flat and emotionless.


    Lunacius, however, took another step back, then scoffed. And in a moment of uncharacteristic humility, admitted, ¡°That is not a battle I believe I could win on my own.¡±


    Veralith glanced over her shoulder at him, a smile creasing her lips in acknowledgement of the rarity with which she heard such modesty from his mouth, and then turned back to the molting world beyond their vessel. ¡°You will not fight that battle alone; you will fight it with your brother. And victory is a matter of perspective.¡±


    ¡°Whose perspective, mine or yours?¡±


    That got a laugh out of her, though Lunacius could not parse whether his sister was laughing at him or at his question. After her cackling, she turned to him again, four arms crossed twice. ¡°It is all a game, brother mine. You have your part to play in it, as I have mine. But games end. When this one finishes, when the cosmos close up and all the stars burn out, I assure you that it will be us who lay eyes upon the last the universe has to offer. That, or, if nothing else, my fate will be far worse than any you can meet. Does that sound like victory to you?¡±


    ¡°It does, actually, yes,¡± Lunacius said, eyes narrowing while his lips pointed into a grin.


    ¡°I thought it might,¡± Veralith said, nodding, and was going to turn back toward Cthcaris when a third joined the scene. ¡°Mordefir,¡± she greeted him with a subtle nod.


    The crimson goliath nodded in return, then glanced to his blood-brother with envious disdain. It was mirrored in return; the two were alike in many ways, and hating the fortuitousness of the other was no exception. Just as they envied each other¡¯s origins, Lunacius would have rather been sent to speak to Veralith rather than summoned by her, and Morderfir would have rather her guard dog as opposed to being a carrier pigeon.


    ¡°You two are cute,¡± Veralith teased, breaking the tension between them. ¡°That is all, Lunacius, if you wish to leave.¡±


    ¡°I have wished as such since arriving,¡± he snorted, and departed down the same corridor his brother had arrived from. Veralith rose her head up toward her new guest, inviting him to speak.


    ¡°A two-headed bird-daemon has emerged from the Empyrean, and seeks consul and military support from you. Something about a Primarch?¡± Mordefir explained.


    Veralith sighed, shook her head, and waved half her hands dismissively. ¡°Kairos Fateweaver intends to kidnap the newly-resurrected Guilliman. I know this, because he has already attempted it from our temporal perspective¡ªbut not his¡ª, and failed. We will not support his upcoming failure, but I will speak with the dual-birdbrains, if that is what he wishes,¡± she said, voice light and lacking any significant motivation.


    Noting her lack of investment in the situation, Mordefir offered, ¡°I could just as well break its beaks and offer its skulls to my patron, if you¡¯d rather not get involved.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that would please Kharnath greatly, but no. I would be wise not to ignore the presence of other servants of my patron, as would behoove you likewise. I will hear the wicked words of my daemonic compatriot, and I will attempt, in futility, to explain the folly of its plans. Just so, I will invite it instead to assist us with ours, which Kairos, and the Scintillating Legion behind him, will of course decline. And then we, thankfully, will go our separate ways,¡± Veralith explained with an uncaring shrug. ¡°If nothing else, at least Lords of Change are more conversable than, say, a Bloodthirster.¡±

 Chapter 133 - Knell

    The pattern was anything but, and yet its signs should have been far more apparent and legible to Luciene and her crew than they managed to comprehend. In the weeks and months that followed Luciene¡¯s latest resurrection, she and her allies took further contracts that saw them venture out deeper and wider amongst the stars; the Inertialess Drive of Zet¡¯s Katabasis proved more than adequate for reaching such destinations with haste and ease. At first, such contracts were without incident or interruption, and Luciene did not follow up on them with any self-destructive calling to long-forgotten worlds. An uneventful and relatively peaceful life it would have been, then, were such a trend to last. But all knew that peace was an exception in the galaxy, not the norm.


    And the first sign, or perhaps the second, depending on your point of view, of things to come revealed its ugly head soon enough: Yet another lone Inquisition vessel, hanging in the void near a planet Luciene and her crew operated within visual range of. Again, Zet¡¯s dataleeching, as he called it, revealed that this vessel belonged to Zha Trantos, the Hereticus Inquisitor that the humans, Myr and Kane, wanted nothing to do with. Unlike over Merkalla, this vessel received nor sent nothing to the planet below. It was just simply present. Yet that was enough to stir unrest.


    And then, nothing. No immediate repercussions from the sighting. Life went on, and enough contracts were taken thereafter to just barely think of the reoccurrence as a mere coincidence. But it was not so, and while the third Inquisitorial sighting signified a continuing trend, some combination of na?vet¨¦, hope, and arrogance insisted to Luciene¡¯s crew that these events had nothing to do with them. The game of cat and mouse continued on, and soon, the Inquisition was nearly batting five-hundred for appearances in view of Katabasis. Not only did the trend continue, but it rapidly grew in frequency.


    For all her insightfulness and shining brilliance, not even Luciene foresaw the looming darkness, nor the identity of its harbinger.


    ***


    No sun rose on Eutophoria, for the installation did not rotate nor orbit any stars, instead remaining stationary beyond the event horizon of its local black hole. Nevertheless, biorhythms demanded, or created for themselves, a day/night cycle intrinsic to the city¡¯s occupants. And it was, then, one morning like any other, that the end began. Luciene found herself in meditative solace at the time, while Kor¡¯Kassan made breakfast for himself and any that may have wanted it. Zaer rested near to Luciene, the two on their knees, though the Eldar was not meditating despite matching Luciene¡¯s outward appearance. The humans still slept, and Zet was nowhere to be found, but that was not unusual for the Nemesor; he did not spend much time in Luciene¡¯s apartment, rather preferring to remain nearer to Katabasis.


    As the scent of fresh food tickled Lucienne¡¯s nose, she perked her head up and opened her eyes to the world. And seeing in a manner as only she could, she then declared, ¡°We are soon to have a guest.¡±


    Zaer looked up and toward her. ¡°Hostile?¡±


    ¡°A client, most familiar in nature,¡± she shook her head. ¡°Human. Greet them.¡±


    ¡°Not often you let me work with clients,¡± Zaer muttered, but rose from kneeling and made for the front door. The moment he arrived, a knock came. Zaer paused a moment and looked through the door¡¯s peephole, spying a middle-aged man adorned with some Imperial augmetics. None of them appeared weaponized, so Zaer opened the door. ¡°Cornelius,¡± he said plainly, in as flat a tone as was becoming of Aeldari cordiality.


    ¡°Ah, the Eldar. I¡¯m afraid I never did get your name,¡± Cornelius said with a grimace. Zaer stared blankly toward him, dismissing the invitation to be so forthcoming. ¡°Right. Not one for pleasantries, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Come in, Cornelius,¡± Lucienne invited from further in the apartment, still kneeling. Zaer moved aside, providing an opening for their guest, which Cornelius took and stepped a few paces into the abode. ¡°To what do we owe the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡ªsorry, do I smell Starfruit?¡± Cornelius wondered. Kor¡¯Kassan stepped over and silently offered him some of the aptly-named fruit¡ªwhich Cornelius accepted¡ªbefore returning to making the rest of his dish. ¡°Much obliged. I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve gotten your name either, T¡¯au.¡±


    ¡°Kor¡¯Kassan. You¡¯re the bartender, yes?¡± Cornelius nodded. ¡°Ms. Myr quite likes your reading material, though I have yet to indulge myself thereof,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan noted.


    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s much less reading material so much as¡­never mind; I¡¯ll let Nessa have that conversation with you. Thanks, again, for the Starfruit; I have not tasted the genuine thing in nearly a decade,¡± Cornelius said.


    ¡°Lucienne¡¯s question,¡± Zaer said, looming over Cornelius from behind.


    Cornelius started, and glanced over his shoulder to note the slender but imposing figure of the cross-armed Eldar standing menacingly within grappling distance from his own being. ¡°Right, sorry,¡± he nodded, and ate the last bite of Starfruit he possessed before looking¡ªand not finding¡ªa means to wipe his hands clean of the fruit¡¯s sticky remnants. In the absence thereof, he instead patted his hands to his sides, below his waist. ¡°It¡¯s no secret you lot get out and about off Eutophoria and prance about the stars, taking on odd jobs for whoever¡¯s paying. And that you¡¯re here means you¡¯re between work, no?¡± he suggested, glancing to those around him. Zaer and Lucienne stared silently his way¡ªthough Lucienne¡¯s gaze as far warmer than the Aeldari¡¯s¡ªwhile Kor¡¯Kassan continued cooking. ¡°Well, assuming so, I¡¯d like to hire your crew.¡±


    Lucienne¡¯s head rose, and she stood to her feet, also towering over Cornelius, whom she approached. ¡°You, who once tried to shield and guide Ishmael Kane from the galaxy beyond, would send him out upon it by your own hand?¡± she asked.


    ¡°The lad makes his own choices, and chose to ally with you,¡± Cornelius shrugged. ¡°And assuming all goes well, he shouldn¡¯t be put in any danger.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hear this gig of yours, then,¡± Lucienne nodded.


    ¡°Right. Well, it has been in times past I hired others for this task, but what with the Inquisition lurking about near Eutophoria more recently, no one wants to fly anywhere. Which is understandable, but this gig by its very nature should keep you away from the Inquisition¡¯s prying eyes. In short: I need a resupply for my bar. There is a Rogue Trader by the name of Antonius Sigird who passes near here on a regular basis. He doesn¡¯t know where Eutophoria is, exactly, and I don¡¯t intend to tell him, but in the past I¡¯ve hired all manner of folk to meet him at a drop site on the planet of Ran¨¦la and pick up my goods. I¡¯ll provide the coin to make the purchase from him, as well as further payment for you upon completion of this task. Sound manageable?¡± Cornelius explained.


    Zaer cleared his throat, garnering the attention of both Cornelius and Lucienne. ¡°And you assume the Inquisition will ignore this Rogue Trader¡­why? What if it is him they are looking for?¡±


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s possible, but I genuinely can¡¯t imagine there being a reason for that. He flies by the books, as far as I know,¡± Cornelius started.


    ¡°As far as you know,¡± Zaer repeated, and panned cautious eyes to meet Lucienne¡¯s before returning his gaze to the bartender.


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    ¡°I understand your concern. And if you do not wish to take on this task, I will not press you to. But I will note that the word on the block is your group has been flying well into the current era of the Inquisition¡¯s mucking about. You have seemed thus far undeterred,¡± Cornelius shrugged, and looked back to Lucienne. ¡°Something tells me there is not much that deters you, for better or for worse.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re agreed in that,¡± Zaer muttered.


    ¡°What sort of goods would we be retrieving?¡± Lucienne asked.


    ¡°Alcohol and foodstuffs, mainly. Perchance some of Nessa¡¯s, err, reading material, as it were, though in truth that comes packaged with an assortment of miscellany. I will have a manifest of my usual orders prepared for you, if you accept the contract; alas, I could not volunteer that beforehand, lest I risk sharing some of the secrets of my own business,¡± he said, tilting his head to the side as though to ask You understand, don¡¯t you? But, he realized, Lucienne had likely never run a business like his, and perhaps did not understand.


    And yet, Lucienne was most understanding, and nodded to him. ¡°Ran¨¦la. Tell me about the world.¡±


    Cornelius shrugged and his lips thinned out. ¡°Not much to tell. Abandoned, as far as I know. Used to be a materials processing world for the Imperium some eons ago, I think? Can¡¯t tell you why it was abandoned; war, or perhaps clerical error on the part of the Administratum. Both are equally likely. The meet would take place at one such materials processing facility, aboveground. Not much left on the world but plasteel structures and dead rock. Sorta the point, really; perfect place for a smuggler to stage a meet.¡±


    ¡°Or an ambush,¡± Zaer grumbled.


    ¡°When do we need to be there by?¡± Lucienne asked, ignoring Zaer¡¯s negativity.


    Cornelius perked up. When that question started getting asked, a deal was likely in the making. ¡°About this time, nineteen days from now. Ran¨¦la is relatively close, should be manageable via Warp Translation, assuming no hiccups.¡±


    ¡°Warp Translation. Right,¡± Lucienne grinned. ¡°I¡¯m interested in the contract. Have a courier send pertinent mission details and necessary materials¡ªcoinage¡ªour way. You can go through Kotak the Unbroken if you desire a formal arrangement with us. Before you leave,¡± she started, and pointed toward Kor¡¯Kassan, who had finished preparing breakfast. ¡°Take some to go, would you? Our friend from the Earth Caste is quite the chef.¡±


    ¡°Ah! How generous. I look forward to it, and yes, I shall send details and a manifest by private courier,¡± Cornelius agreed, nodding with some enthusiasm. And he did indeed take a small sampling of food before making his exit.


    When he had gone, Luciene stepped up to Zaer and tilted her head up invitingly. ¡°He¡¯s hiding something,¡± Zaer said.


    ¡°He is,¡± Luciene agreed, then explained what: ¡°Guilt. There is more to this arrangement than he lets on, and he hides the details well; well enough that even I cannot perceive specifics. That he hides anything at all is why I bit into this bait; I have no vested interest in smuggling.¡±


    ¡°If he is guilty, then you volunteer us for a trap,¡± Zaer noted.


    ¡°I do. But we have ample time to prepare for it. And he obviously does not know our full capabilities¡ª¡®Warp Translation,¡¯¡± she repeated. ¡°Whatever this trap is, and why it might be sprung upon us, I suspect we shall surprise its makers.¡±


    ¡°To what end?¡±


    ¡°That, I do not know. But this trap was made for us, and I suspect we could only ignore it at our own peril.¡±


    ***


    The materials processing facility was not large, by Imperial standards, but it was vast enough for a crew of six to get lost in. Katabasis still dwarfed the facility all the same, holding the structure within the grasp of its flat, crescent-shaped body. Save for the facility, tan outcrops stretched across the horizon, with a mountain range peaking out leagues away.


    Luciene and her crew had arrived a day early, manifest and coinage in hand, with which to procure the goods from Antonius Sigird, if indeed there were any. The meet was supposedly to take place within the aforementioned facility, but not all resided within; Zaer, the scout that he was, remained beyond, camping on his own fifteen-hundred meters away from the structure between the gap in Katabasis¡¯s arms. He was eyes and ears for anything on approach, howsoever Sigird intended to arrive.


    But he was not the only one keeping an eye out; while Zaer could scan the skies, Zet, through his vessel, maintained a watchful gaze of the void beyond Ran¨¦la¡¯s atmosphere. And it was he, on the dawn of the promised day, that thus made the first announcement: ¡°Imperial vessel has just exited from Warp Translation, identifying now.¡±


    ¡°No Trader is that punctual,¡± Kane noted over the interstitial earpieces Zet had provided the crew.


    ¡°This one, apparently, is,¡± Zet replied. ¡°The vessel is the Ebon Shrike, belonging to Antonius Sigird indeed, as our mission documents suggested.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may, keep on your toes, everyone,¡± Luciene warned. ¡°If something seems too perfect, it usually is.¡± A moment of silence took the crew, then. Zaer scanned blue skies, but saw nothing, save for a small black blip far above which was not present the day prior. That, he assumed, was the Ebon Shrike, far away. Upon noting this, Luciene¡¯s voice appeared in his ear again. ¡°Anything?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Zet replied. ¡°But we have not been lanced from orbit, either, so that¡¯s a plus.¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± Zaer said to himself, not speaking over the Necron device any more than he needed to.


    A few more moments passed in tense silence. Zaer stared wantingly toward Ebon Shrike, waiting for it to do anything at all. For a time, it simply sat there. Then he spied a small glimmer of flame trickle into the skies above, near the vessel. ¡°They¡¯ve launched something,¡± he reported, tapping a finger to his right ear.


    ¡°Identifying,¡± Zet droned, but it did not take the Necron long. ¡°That is a Thunderhawk vessel, a form of gunship, most militant. I can intercept its approach with tractor cannons.¡±


    ¡°Let it warm its guns first, if it intends to,¡± Luciene denied. ¡°Ishmael, Nessa, is a Thunderhawk used by Traders as a landing vessel?¡±


    ¡°It could be, for any of the more militant sort,¡± Myr suggested.


    ¡°So, all of them,¡± Kane added. ¡°It¡¯s typically an Astartes vessel, not for a Trader¡¯s needs, but anything is possible.¡±


    ¡°I do not detect Astartes signatures aboard the vessel,¡± Zet noted.


    ¡°Then it is atypical. Let it approach for now,¡± Luciene decided.


    The Thunderhawk swooped through the skies with enough grace to impress even Zaer; such a bulky thing, he thought, could only move so lithely when helmed by a masterful pilot. It was not unheard of for members of his kind to find themselves wrapped up in a Rogue Trader¡¯s retinue; it would take talents such as belonged to his people to maneuver such a heavy hunk of steel as so-elegantly dictated the Thunderhawk¡¯s movements. Yet for the subtle beauty in the Thunderhawk¡¯s flight, it¡¯s chosen path led it straight toward Zaer, and he was able to spy the terrible and familiar =]I[=-shaped crest emblazoned on the side of the vessel.


    But what hit him hardest was not the dreadful realization of such a sight, nor was it any of the Thunderhawk¡¯s ample armaments. No, instead, an unnatural, desperate hopelessness washed over Zaer as the gunship neared. One so psychically attuned as he could feel the sheer, inescapable terror best. It was overpowering. Death itself, Zaer knew, resided within the Imperial gunship, and that knowledge dropped him to his knees. And then the Thunderhawk flew directly overhead, and Zaer fell even from his knees to laying and writhing on the ground. As the side of his body hit the dusty earth below, he found himself aboard Katabasis again, staring into the lifeless corpse of Luciene, body punctured by shrapnel and bled out. His gut knotted and twisted, and he knew that this time, unlike any death prior, this time, she would not return, consumed by the devouring darkness.


    And then he was back on Ran¨¦la, covered in his own sweat, as the Thunderhawk flew past him. The terror subsided, but he was left shaken, faith shattered. For centuries, he had had the privilege of seeing Luciene¡¯s light shine out amidst the burning stars. But he knew then that, in mere moments, a being of unfathomable darkness would arrive before her to snuff out the brilliance of her existence once and for all. And with that, he despaired.


    Zaer was slow to his feet, and even slower to raise a finger to his ear, tapping into his comms. But he had no words to describe what he had just experienced. No words for the infinite horror of the Empyrean. And how could he? What words were there to warn a loved one of the approach of such a malevolence? Instead, his hand fell, his comms silenced. He stood in stunned awe, and more than anything else, selfishly wanted to be anywhere other than where he was. His feet moved, but not to carry him away as he wanted; instead, pained curiosity forced his body to turn, to witness the death of life, the end of hope. But it did not arrive, not yet; instead, the Thunderhawk flew past the processing plant that his fellows resided in.


    He may have screamed toward the facility, shouting to his friends to flee; he wanted to, but he did not know if he managed it. What he did know, however, was that the universe yawned next to him, and carried his desperate gaze to his left. A crease had formed in reality twenty paces away, a shimmer in dusty winds. No great dread emerged from the crease, but Zaer hardly needed any more of that to be spooked regardless. Nevertheless, even if not psychic in nature, what did emerge from the crease was the very image of Death in human form, red eyes beaming out of a painted white skull on black carapace armor.


    ¡°On your knees, Xenos! Hands behind your head!¡± the Tempestus Scion ordered, Ryza-pattern Hellgun trained on Zaer¡¯s torso.

 Chapter 134 - Annihilation III

    Fight or flight responses are not unique to humans. And while in any other moment Zaer would not have been fearful of a single Tempestus Scion, its sudden, Warp-powered appearance immediately following the terrors of the abyss proved particularly harrowing. So when it demanded Zaer to fall to his knees and surrender, Zaer simply stood defiant, awestruck and unable to commit to any serious action.


    That was until an emotionless, grating voice appeared in his ear. ¡°Zaer, you opened the line of your interstitial communicator for 3.2 seconds without a word; do you have something to say?¡± Zet asked, and Zaer was never so thankful to hear from a lifeless Necron, if only because, in that moment, Zet¡¯s plain monotony proved sufficient to annoy the Aeldari enough to spur him into action.


    But action was not replying, for words took too long to speak, and a Hellgun was currently levied to Zaer¡¯s chest. Zaer tensed up to dive away, and he could have sworn the Scion saw and reacted even to such subtle tells of movement, beginning to shake its head discouragingly. Zaer dove for nearby packs of equipment, and in the process two arcs of red death flew past him, narrowly missing an agility that should have outclassed anything human. Yet as Zaer landed in his camp and drew forth his Shuriken Catapult, two thoughts flicked through the Aeldari¡¯s head. One, vindication, for insisting to stay well away from the Inquisition. But thought two nagged him with uncertainty, for he wondered why the Scion had asked for his surrender at all; in his earlier stupor, he could have been cut down with ease if that was what the Inquisition wanted. It must not have been so.


    Nevertheless, Hellgun shots had been fired, and they needed to be met in turn. Zaer sprang out from his campsite, Shuriken weapon in hand, and intended to return fire at his assailant when next he landed¡ªa human maimed could be questioned later. But when Zaer¡¯s feet did next slide onto the dusty earth, a third arc of lasfire singed the side of his Shuriken Catapult. It may not have impacted critical damage upon his weapon, but Zaer did not have the time or carelessness to test that theory, and instead leapt toward the Scion, Scorpion Chainsword in hand. Zaer slashed at the Scion in an uppercut, but the human proved as nimble as it was accurate, dropping its Hellgun to the ground and diving out of the way. When Zaer transitioned his uppercut to a downward overhead slice to his side, he found his second attack catching against a power knife, and the two held each other at odds, there, for a moment.


    ¡°You serve a master of darkness,¡± Zaer spoke at last, for the first time in minutes, issuing a warning to his attacker.


    ¡°I care not for the taunts of Xenos,¡± the Scion answered. ¡°I serve a good man and the God Emperor above, while you obey a villainous lie.¡±


    ¡°A lie?¡± Zaer said, scoffing, not much in the mood for the zealous litanies of Imperial dogma.


    ¡°The angel you follow is not yours,¡± the Scion said, and then ducked out and under the meeting of their blades while thrusting a heel into Zaer¡¯s gut, knocking the Aeldari back a pace.


    ¡°What does your dying empire know of angels?¡± Zaer objected, gathering his composure, and keeping his Chainsword between himself and his enemy.


    ¡°More than your dead empire, I suspect,¡± the Scion returned, and dropped a hand to his hip, where Zaer spotted a Laspistol waiting to be drawn. As its barrel rose, Zaer was already on the move, darting around the Scion to force the Las weapon¡¯s aim to cross over the Scion¡¯s front and forcing the Scion to turn as well. A wider movement, and the Scion could have held its ground. Every millisecond was precious to both combatants, and Zaer intended to milk the Scion for all it was worth.


    ¡°His vitals are elevated,¡± Luciene¡¯s voice appeared in Zaer¡¯s ear, which instilled in him much-needed confidence. So, too, did her next comment: ¡°I¡¯m leaving to assess his situation. The rest of you, assume the worst, prepare for enemy contact.¡± The thought of Luciene¡¯s arrival made a thin smile spread across Zaer¡¯s lips, though Zaer knew such an admission would not go unnoticed by the Scion.


    The two clashed again, Zaer with renewed vigor and motivation, and the Scion with stoic implacability. Despite the agility with which the Aeldari pirouetted from strike to strike, his weapon was robust and roaring, betraying the Zaer¡¯s otherwise silent movements. In contrast, the Scion countered his blows with the near-silent hissing of a smaller powered dagger, while the Scion¡¯s own movements were chunky and brutish, as though a hammer mauling stone. Zaer tried not to dwell on the fact that a mere human was keeping pace with him with inferior armaments, but that fact was hard to ignore. But soon Luciene would be there, and she was swifter and more agile than the human and Aeldari combined.


    A stab deflected, a punch blocked, a Laspistol slapped out of its owner¡¯s grasp. Zaer capitalized on the arrival of his own range advantage by backing off and once more diving for the Shuriken Catapult he had abandoned earlier. Perhaps, by then, the wraithbone of its form had repaired itself from the Hellgun¡¯s wound; it was a chance he was willing to take. But the Scion seemed cognizant of the possibility likewise, and rather than pursuing his Aeldari target, ducked and tumbled through a combat roll as a nigh-imperceptible stream of monofilament projectiles screeched through the air. Zaer¡¯s first burst proved successful enough, even if not meeting their mark. So Zaer turned his aim to follow the Scion out of its roll, and in so doing caught a Hellgun blast to his shoulder.


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    Again, he dropped his Shuriken weapon, and this time he himself catapulted backward, the lasfire striking with heat and force alike. Zaer fell over and down a small ledge, landing on his backside from a drop slightly taller than he was. But he still had his Chainsword in his other hand, in the arm that had not been las¡¯d. With it, he clambered to the ledge and began leaping up it, nearing its crest just as the Scion appeared at its peak. Zaer slashed at the Scion¡¯s feet, forcing the human to leap away, then tumbled over the ledge¡¯s lip and rolled out from another lancing blast of lasfire. Or, so he thought, but was shot once more, and then a third time, as he exited from his roll.


    Zaer fell again, and this time it felt to him as though he fell for an eon, but eventually he landed, singed, in the embrace of blackened flesh. Zaer turned to his savior, and though the walls of sight closed in upon his view, he mouthed a single word to her: Run.


    But Luciene was not one to flee, and when she turned her gaze upward to face the Scion, it was more than anger that kept her in place. The red-eyed, skull-patterned gunman that had shot up her compatriot was, somehow, familiar to her. She knew that the Scion¡¯s gaze was one she had locked with before, but could not recall when, or how. Slowly, gently, Luciene lowered Zaer to the ground, keeping her eyes locked with the Scion¡¯s in the process.


    The Scion, however, did not seem interested in staying to chat. Reality creased upon itself at its back, and the Scion began to step away from the ledge it stood atop. But it retreated no more than that single step before the ledge exploded, and the Scion was sent careening away, Luciene smashing through them both in an instant, a faint golden glow emanating from her form. Battered, the Scion nevertheless righted itself, its Hellgun still in hand, and kneeled to take aim at Luciene as she drew her Eviscerator from her back. But before any further combat took place between the two, the Scion called out to her. ¡°What are you?¡±


    ¡°Confused and pissed off,¡± she shouted in response.


    ¡°That makes two of us, at least,¡± the Scion shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t do this.¡±


    ¡°I fear none such as you.¡±


    ¡°It is not one such as me you should fear,¡± the Scion said, and with that, the earth at their feet began to tremble. Luciene looked down to it just in time to see a protrusion begin to form where she stood. That slim advantage allowed her to dive toward the Scion just in time to avoid being impaled by the sudden explosion of rock at her feet, a colossal stone wall rising out of the earth where there had not earlier been one. Another wall rose up ahead of her, obscuring her view of the Scion, but she cut through it with ease, if finding her quarry gone. Then red light scattered over a transparent sheen that surrounded her body, an invisible shield defending her from the Scion¡¯s attacks to her left.


    Again, Luciene dove for the Scion, and again the ground at her feet opposed her. But such shielding was ineffectual when tested against her blade, and she carved through it all the same. This game of cat-and-mouse repeated a third time, and only then did Luciene realize that the manipulation of the terrain was not the Scion¡¯s doing, but that of an unseen, psychic enemy from afar. To that, Luciene plunged her Eviscerator into the earth, then punched a fist into a palm, forcing her own Empyreal-abilities to collide with themselves, along with whatever opposing mentality influenced the scene. The resulting shockwave of gold shattered the various walls that had arisen, leveling the earth as it had been prior to her arrival, and also launched the Scion into the air, off its feet.


    When the Scion landed, it tumbled backward a moment, but caught and righted itself in a heartbeat. Upon locking eyes with Luciene again, the Scion could only barely process the sudden surge of power within and beyond her form as she withdrew her sword from the ground. It was like watching a lightbulb illuminate, and then in the next instant, Luciene vanished from view, and the Scion was lifted into the air once more.


    The Scion¡¯s bodiless arm hit the ground before its arm-deprived body did, Luciene standing between the two with blood dripping from the teeth of her blade. She observed the damage inflicted, judged it fatal, and committed nothing further to the battle before leaving it altogether to return to Zaer. The Aeldari was alive and breathing when she left him.


    But he was not when she returned.


    And that, then, sufficed to knock the angel to her knees, scooping her lifeless friend into her arms before she fled back to the rest of her allies.


    ***


    The coldness seeped out of the one-armed Scion and was replaced with comforting warmth, howsoever falsified its source may have been. Is that you, brother? the Scion thought.


    +It is,+ the words appeared in the Scion¡¯s head.


    The Scion¡¯s eyes closed, and weak though he was, he managed a nod, pieces of his cracked facemask falling off from the simple movement. Don¡¯t want me dying alone, huh? I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here.


    +I¡¯m sorry, Silas.+


    So am I. It was a fine service we provided, you and I. But all things end, the Scion returned, yet no immediate reply came. Still, the warmth persisted, so the Scion knew his brother remained. But breathing was becoming difficult, even to manage gentle sighs and gasps for air. A better end than most of us got. I get to spend it with you. Do you think the Emperor watches all of this?


    +I know He does, Silas.+


    Pity, the Scion frowned. Brother, the Scion began, but refocused his thoughts on breathing in once more. It may have been his last chance to, but thankfully the air was clear, cool. Have mercy on her. She knows not what she is or what she does.


    Silence. Yet the warmth remained, even as the dark closed in.


    Have mercy on her, for your own sake.


    Silence. Darkness. The thoughts stopped. Emptiness arrived, and with it, nothingness. Silas Hager, a Scion of the God Emperor, lay motionless in a pool of his own blood, a savage mound of flesh where one of his shoulders used to be. And then the ground centered on his corpse quaked and cratered under an invisible force, as though the Scion¡¯s body weighed a trillion tons. And only then, as storm clouds gathered over a lifeless realm, did the Scion receive a reply to his dying wish.


    +NO.+

 Chapter 135 - Eschaton

    ¡°Luciene, I¡¯m¡ª¡± Myr began as the angel wept in the center of the room, still cradling the lifeless body of Zaer in her arms.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Luciene interrupted, then nodded. ¡°So am I. We knew this was a trap when we took the contract, so why did I let him leave on his own? It was as he always had, but I should have known better this time.¡±


    ¡°How could you have, Luciene?¡± Kor¡¯Kassan asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I heard the conversation with Cornelius same as you. Same as Zaer. We three heard the same hints, the same secrets hidden from us. There was nothing more to know.¡±


    Luciene wiped an arm across her face, smearing tears between wrist and cheek, and then nodded and rose to her feet. ¡°I don¡¯t know why we¡¯re here. Spring the trap, my stupid idea, and then what? What for?¡± she asked of herself, shaking her head. ¡°Return to Katabasis. There¡¯s nothing for us here.¡±


    Zet stepped up to Luciene, still looking down over his former rival. ¡°That may be easier said than done. I am now detecting additional Inquisition vessels in orbit, while that Thunderhawk has escaped my gaze.¡±


    ¡°Just as well. I need something to punch,¡± Luciene hissed, fists clenching by her sides. And then, in a blink, she was gone. Not her by her own volition, however; her wings never unfurled, and she never made to move. It was, instead, as though a great, invisible hand reached through the facility and grabbed hold of her, yanking her away from the group. It tore a hole in the side of the building, too, whisking her away across the surface of Ran¨¦la to some faraway destination.


    ¡°Wha¡ª¡± Zet, among others, started, but they, too, found an immaterial emptiness taking hold of them, and the next thing they knew, they were not where they once were.


    ***


    Human


    Kane threw off his helmet, lurching, body refusing to adjust from the sudden and merciless spacial Translation. No vomit exited his mouth, though to him, it felt like it ought to have. Myr adjusted better, but still stumbled back against the remnants of a conveyor belt. They were still in the materials processing facility, just shunted into some other room on their own. But they were not on their own, not quite. ¡°Hardly Imperial outfits,¡± the bronze-skinned, silver-eyed woman said, an arm still clad in flesh crossing over a mechanized augmetic. ¡°Defectors, then, which is a more polite term for traitors.¡±


    ¡°Trantos,¡± Myr asserted, drawing her own conclusion as to their host¡¯s identity. ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done?¡±


    ¡°Bless your lucky stars I¡¯m not Trantos,¡± the unknown woman replied. ¡°I could ask the same of your crew. He was a friend.¡±


    ¡°Ours too,¡± Kane retorted, and finally righted himself, at which point his eyes went wide upon getting a better view of the beautiful, jumpsuit-clad pilot before him. ¡°It¡¯s you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± the woman agreed, eyebrow raised.


    ¡°I dreamt of you,¡± he said in slight whimsy.


    ¡°Creepy,¡± she replied, voice flat and uncaring.


    ¡°You¡­you called me insignificant, then knocked me out with that metal arm of yours,¡± Kane explained.


    ¡°Well, that does sound like me,¡± she shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not here to talk dreams, and I¡¯m not here to discuss your gang¡¯s horrific mistake. I¡¯m here for your surrender. Concede now, or I will beat you both into compliance. Throne knows I need something to hit, so go ahead, resist. I don¡¯t need to be psychic to see it in you.¡±


    Kane and Myr looked to each other, and in silent assent, drew weapons upon the Inquisition pilot standing ahead of them. She was just a pilot, right? Surely not as dangerous in close quarters as a veteran of the Militarum or, worse, a Death Cult Assassin. Both had the same thought at the same time, and both beliefs shattered at once when the presumptive pilot closed the distance to them before either of them had aimed true. A heel buried itself in Myr¡¯s gut and launched her back into the conveyor belt again while a non-augmetic hand grabbed hold of the back of Kane¡¯s knee, pulling him off balance and letting him fall to the ground.


    A moment passed while Kane tossed his bulky, T¡¯au-made weapon aside and reached to his waist for Cornelius¡¯s¡ªdamn him!¡ªstub pistol. In that moment, the Inquisition Agent sparred with Myr, and to Kane¡¯s horror, it was not much of a match. Their unknown assailant was faster, stronger, and apparently more skillful, even, than a Death Cult Assassin, parrying aside any blow Myr managed to get out amidst a flurry of augmetic-backed jabs of her own. By the time Kane had finally drawn and aimed his stub pistol, the Agent had grappled around Myr¡¯s body and in one clean motion, tossed the pair of women into the air. The Agent threw Myr further across the room while landing a short distance to Kane¡¯s side, and spun like a snake on the ground to kick the stub pistol from his grasp before he re-oriented it to her.


    Kane rose to his feet, not to fight the Agent head on, but seeing that Myr had recovered likewise and tackled the Agent from behind, restraining the would-be-pilot¡¯s arms for a moment. Kane moved to assist in bringing the Agent down, but she instead jumped back against Myr, forcing the latter into a backstep, and plunged her feet into Kane¡¯s gut, kicking him away and knocking Myr off balance. The Agent landed atop Myr¡¯s front, bashed a shoulder into Myr¡¯s face before rolling off her, and then drew and trained a Laspistol on Kane, who was still stumbling to his feet. In desperation, Myr threw herself onto the Agent again, this time just trying to wrestle her to the ground, and at that, finally succeeded.


    Kane scrambled for his stub pistol once more while Myr fought a losing battle with the Inquisition Agent on the ground. As soon as he thumbed the hammer of the pistol back, however, the Agent lurched away from Myr and kicked out one of his ankles, again making Kane fall, this time to his hands and knees. He looked up just in time to lock eyes with his assailant, and he froze; her eyes, stunning though they were, burned of steely violence. This was no pilot before them! No, Kane saw then that he was within a whisper¡¯s utterance from someone who loved fighting. Not killing, not shooting, not war as he or Myr may have known it. Whoever this Inquisition Agent was, they craved a good scrap, and thus far, she was disappointed with what they had offered her together.


    Then an arm careened against Kane¡¯s neck and threw him onto his backside. Before he knew it, a great weight fell upon his chest and throat, the Agent¡¯s knee pinning his neck to the ground as she sat on his front. The Agent had, in a single, clean motion, plucked his stub pistol from the ground and turned it upon Myr, where she shot the Laspistol Myr had just grabbed from the ground and aimed against her. The las weapon recoiled out of Myr¡¯s hands, stinging her wrists in the process. The Agent then turned Kane¡¯s stub weapon against him, and though it was a single-shot, hammer-cocked pistol, opened fire in four lightning-quick blasts around Kane¡¯s head.


    Then, a pause at last, as Kane stared down the barrel of his own gun. ¡°We done?¡± the Agent asked the pair, cocking the pistol once more.


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    ¡°My gun only had five shots in it,¡± Kane replied. The Agent looked to the weapon in her hands and pulled the trigger once more.


    Click.


    No, they were not done.


    ***


    Necron


    While momentarily stunned from his own unwilling Translation, Zet had no organs to churn or physical adjustments to make. His eyes instantly reassessed his surroundings, and had he wanted it, he could just as easily teleport himself back to where he had been a moment prior, or onto Katabasis outright. But, he saw despite the darkened shadows that encompassed him, he had a guest. ¡°My, aren¡¯t you a vision,¡± he spoke to the unlit, vacant storage shed his internal geopositioners found themselves in.


    ¡°The last thing I need is to be complimented by a machine, much less a Xenos one,¡± came the disinterested reply from dead ahead of him. Were Zet a creature of flesh, a host of adjectives to describe the woman¡¯s eye-catching form may have flashed through his mind. As it was, he only generated an objective analysis¡ªImperial, Callidus, Assassin; Threat Level: Negligible. ¡°Against my better judgment, I¡¯m to subdue you and procure your cooperation. I recommend complying.¡±


    ¡°Oh ho ho, presumptuous little thing, aren¡¯t we?¡± Zet chuckled. If his laugh unnerved his would-be captor, she did not display as such. ¡°Unluckily for you, you and your gang have just murdered one of the first genuine allies I have had for millions of years. No, there shall not be cooperation on this dreadful day, not from me.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see how long that lasts,¡± the Assassin shrugged, and then darted across the room and leapt for Zet, bringing a leg around for a roundhouse kick. Zet was content to let the attack connect while he studied the creature further.


    In the milliseconds before the kick connected with the side of his head, he noted that the Assassin had crossed the room in an inhuman shortness of time, surpassing the pace of even the Astartes he had had the misfortune of encountering¡ªand bisecting¡ªover the years. Zet also observed that the woman was particularly well-muscled; though covered head to toe in Imperial synskin, the promiscuous tightness of the faux-flesh revealed both a provocatively lustful visage as much as it did the knotted muscles otherwise hidden beneath the skin. Threat Level: Minimal.


    In the nanoseconds before the Assassin¡¯s blow landed, Zet looked deeper still. His attacker was unlike any human he had ever seen before; her muscle density was well in excess of even the most enraged Orkoids he had observed. And upon reflection of the movements she took to approach him and launch her attack against him, Zet noted that at a microscopic level, every twist and turn of her body was carried out with absolute perfection, even insofar as his systems, systems which had defied and defeated the Old Ones, could tell. But still, she was only human, Zet judged. Threat Level: Moderate.


    And then her attack at last connected.


    Necrodermis bent and warped as the Assassin¡¯s calf crushed the Necron¡¯s skull inward, shattering servos and mechatronics behind his face. Zet careened away, launched across the room in the blink of an eye. He may as well have eaten a Battle Cannon blast to the face, though that, he decided, would have at least deflected off his Necrodermal body and imparted most of its kinetic energy unto the ground where it finally came to rest. Not so for the woman¡¯s leg, which hit him and did not buckle or bounce away. ¡°Ar-e you so-me s-ort of m-onst-er?¡± Zet creaked out, forcing himself to his feet as his voice modulator repaired itself within his twisted neck. His living metal head buffed out the cracks and smoothed the dents that had been smashed into his face, though there were many and the process was not as swift as his assailant had maneuvered.


    Threat Level: Severe.


    ¡°I destroy monsters,¡± the Assassin answered. ¡°No, I am something far worse. Surrender.¡±


    ¡°I think not,¡± Zet replied, voice already repaired, and summoned his warscythe to his side, its fractal edge illuminating the darkness more than the glimmer of his body managed. And then Zet bore witness to something that left even one such as he perturbed: from a wrist-mounted contraption on the Assassin¡¯s arm sprung forth a green energy weapon of C¡¯tan origin, something that could meet¡ªand perhaps even beat¡ªthe phase blade of his scythe. Threat Level: Catastrophic.


    ¡°Have at it, then, and make your move,¡± the Assassin invited him, pointing her energy weapon his way and assuming a duelist¡¯s stance. ¡°Unlike you, however, I will not be dumb enough to let you strike me.¡±


    ¡°A miscalculation, indeed, but one that will not be repeated,¡± Zet agreed. But walking and running was for lesser creatures, as his peers would say. Zet, instead, phased out of reality and rematerialized himself within striking distance¡ªand beyond retaliatory distance¡ªof his target. A trick of the Deathmarks, taken and repurposed for himself; if that kleptomaniacal archivist had any wisdom at all, it was that Necron trinkets were best used in conjunction with one another, rather than in isolation. Yet teleportation or no, the Assassin was ready to catch Zet¡¯s warscythe against her far-shorter weapon, and despite the Nemesor¡¯s otherwise-unmatched strength, she held her ground with ease, showing no signs of a struggle.


    Indeed, Zet finally realized, he had deduced the real extent of the threat posed by this creature, human in appearance and vocabulary only.


    ***


    T¡¯au


    ¡°What is the nature of your relationship with the angel?¡± a voice behind Kor¡¯Kassan asked him before he even regained his bearings.


    ¡°Mutually beneficial,¡± he answered, and spun on his heels and shot twice with wrist-mounted Pulse Blasters, once from each arm. But, he found, no one lurked behind him. Instead, Kor¡¯Kassan found he had shot a simple, plascrete podium to hell, upon which rested a voxcaster of Imperial make. He glanced around, noting his surroundings; he was in a vacant meeting hall, which was darkly fitting, within which rusted support columns dotted the otherwise empty floor, rising to the ceiling.


    ¡°You are no combatant, are you?¡± the voxcaster asked. Kor¡¯Kassan grumbled to himself and reached to his backside, detaching and engaging a MV1 Gun Drone, which bobbed to and fro as its antigrav generators spun up. Its frontal eye illuminated the otherwise dimly lit scene, and the drone began to scout about the room. ¡°The shoot-first-question-later type is no professional operative.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an engineer, but that doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t know how to defend myself,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan replied, still searching his surroundings for signs of life.


    ¡°Clearly,¡± the voxcaster drawled.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m in no toying mood! You and yours have just killed a longtime friend of mine!¡± Kor¡¯Kassan roared, tensing up and pointing his wrist-cannons aimlessly about the room. His drone continued its search.


    ¡°And yours likewise of mine,¡± the voxcaster answered. Kor¡¯Kassan paused, arms lowering. ¡°She hadn¡¯t told you that bit, had she?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry for your loss.¡±


    ¡°And I yours.¡±


    Kor¡¯Kassan heaved in a deep breath, and then waved toward his drone. It abandoned its search, instead flitting over toward its master, engaging protective protocols. ¡°You¡¯re in this room somewhere, aren¡¯t you?¡± Kor¡¯Kassan asked. He got no response to that one. ¡°Fine. Tell me this, then: are you here to kill us all, or to talk? Because that ship of yours up there could¡¯ve done the killing bit much more simply than all of this.¡±


    Silence, again. Then a figure stepped out from behind a support column, Bolt pistol drawn but pointed toward the ground. Kor¡¯Kassan¡¯s drone did not open fire upon the figure that had until then eluded its gaze. ¡°The original plan was to talk. The assumption was most of you wouldn¡¯t have been willing to,¡± the woman said. Her skin was as dark as night, her black hair braided over her shoulders, and her body hidden beneath the overzealous garb of the Imperial faith. ¡°Do you have a name, T¡¯au?¡±


    ¡°Kor¡¯Kassan,¡± he answered.


    ¡°Zha Trantos,¡± she returned with a nod.


    ¡°The Inquisitor,¡± he asserted.


    ¡°There are three on this world, yes. One seeks to parlay with your Necron ally. The other with the angel,¡± she explained, then winced. ¡°I do not imagine either conversation will be as civil as ours.¡±


    ¡°And the humans? Our humans?¡± Kor¡¯Kassan clarified.


    ¡°Our pilot,¡± Zha answered, and winced again. ¡°She may be the punchiest of the bunch, alas.¡± Zha then paused and shook her head. ¡°This has all gone wrong. It has been going wrong for years now.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you should consider a new line of work,¡± Kor¡¯Kassan suggested, and was met with a dry, deathly glare that sent a shiver down his spine. ¡°Or not. If you¡¯re here to talk, what about?¡±


    ¡°Your angel. How she came to be, what she has been doing, and what she could do instead,¡± Zha explained. ¡°I imagine she has done some good by your side, something you¡¯ve found meaningful. But I also suspect that both you and she have been unwitting pawns in someone else¡¯s game, and trust me, I¡¯m perilously familiar with what that¡¯s like.¡±


    Kor¡¯Kassan looked away from the Inquisitor, brow furrowing. Then, he admitted aloud, ¡°I admire her.¡±


    ¡°I did too, once,¡± Zha said. Kor¡¯Kassan looked at her, puzzled. ¡°Before she was an angel. Kor¡¯Kassan, engineer, can we sheathe our weapons and hold a real conversation? Or need I subdue you like my fellows are liable to do to yours?¡± He stared at her for a moment more, and then raised a palm below his drone, whereupon it powered down and came to a rest in his hand.

 Chapter 136 - Iconoclasm

    The angel tumbled in her landing, skin of black ceramite skittering atop the rocky surface of Ran¨¦la before coming to a halt. But if she was pained or wounded, she did not show it, and rose from the ground with fists clenched and eyes closed. Unwise, I thought, and made to teach this facsimile of my wife better. But when I tried to nick her front with Drepane, she replied by meeting its edge with one of her fists, golden light smashing out upon the blue lightning of the Nemesis falchion. Only then, as our powers contested, she opened her eyes to look into mine. ¡°You wear the shape of my shadow,¡± she said softly, but did not let up in pressing against my blade, keeping us at odds.


    ¡°And you the face of my failure,¡± I replied, and willed myself harder against her power. Even her awesome light began to give way to my fury, and she took a step back as I advanced upon her. Rain began to fall upon us, the skies having eclipsed the sun above to produce a terrible gloom that overtook the world.


    ¡°One of your men, I presume, is responsible for killing someone I cared very much about,¡± she heaved out, and reached a fist back before propelling it toward me. While it did not strike me, instead stopping a foot and a half from my being, it did shoot forth a continuous stream of gold psychic energy. I met it with an open palm from my biological hand, where shadows opened up and devoured her power as she unleashed it.


    ¡°And your hands are stained with the blood of my brother,¡± I grilled her, and then cut away from her, in an instant appearing some distance to her side. She drew the Eviscerator that rested on her backside, and lowered it between us. ¡°You¡¯re a dead thing, and you don¡¯t even know it, do you?¡±


    ¡°Threats don¡¯t work on me.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a threat, just an observation,¡± I replied, and then bolted for her accursed, mocking visage once more. All the while, the daemon laughed and laughed. And who could blame it? I was the butt of the joke, sure, but that does not mean I was ignorant of the punchline that stood before me. Lucene was dead. This thing was not her, even if it wore her face. Would I be fighting Silas¡¯s corpse one day, too?


    All in good time, Blackgar, it laughed further.


    I shouted in unbridled fury when Drepane struck her Eviscerator, then, and must have surprised the faux-angel as much as I had myself, as the biomantic and psykematic force that struck against her blade was colossal enough to bat her far beyond my view. But I could still sense her even as she careened away from me. I lurched my free, biological hand forward, and as I had regrettably learned from Cronos, ripped another hole in reality to step through. I was possessed of such power, and I hated every ounce of it.


    When Bliss had stopped Cronos¡¯s emergence on the deck of the Coldbreed those long and painful years ago, I had learned a great deal about the truth of myself. Long had I thought myself a low-to-mid-Gamma-grade Psyker, which would have left me terribly powerful enough as it was. But that was a lie, crafted by the Inquisition and surgically implanted into my skull in the form of psychic wards. No, for centuries the extent of my power had been suppressed, and when Cronos nearly broke free, one of the first things it did was shatter those wards. In reality, I was a tier beyond such measurement, mid-to-high-Beta-grade. Anything higher, and my very sanity would have been threatened¡ªnot like it was at all intact anymore, though. So there I was, a Timeless reservoir of horrifyingly colossal psychic power for an Exalted Greater Daemon to engorge itself upon for eternity. Such is the terrible truth of my entire existence.


    Yet Lucene, meanwhile, was deservedly crafted into what some would dub an angel. But the irony therein was too rich for that fate to be anything other than someone¡¯s terrible plot. So the daemon laughed. When my sanity broke entirely, which might be soon, perhaps I¡¯ll laugh too.


    I emerged ahead of Lucene¡¯s forced flightpath, though I noted she had righted herself for landing. I chose to expedite that process, and reached my sorcerous arm toward her before psychically smacking her out of the air, where she plummeted, hard, into the ground below. It was a landing that would have splattered a human, yet when the dust settled, Lucene stood defiant, not a scratch on her ceramite body. Ceramite which, I¡¯ll add, had melted and resettled long ago. I suspect when The Finality catapulted through the Warp, her power armor seethed over her dead flesh, and merged with it. And the Rosarius? The shielding symbol bequeathed from Igan Caliman to me, and from me to her? Well, Silas had already proved its continued existence, and I could sense it within her, literally. It had sunk below her flesh, shielding her adjacent to her beating heart like another organ unto itself.


    This was Lucene, in all manner of the word ¡®was.¡¯ But the thoughts in her mind, and the soul beneath the flesh, those were not hers, they could not have been. Oh, my poor child, the daemon taunted. If only you knew.


    ¡°Do you even know what you are?¡± I asked of her, Drepane and sorcerous hand still held ready before me.


    ¡°A dead thing, according to you, yet here I breathe,¡± she deflected.


    ¡°And every breath you take is evil at play,¡± I hissed, then whipped my free hand aside. Her eyes went wide as the world between us was cleaved away, bringing us face to face, upon which time I struck out at her again. My blade proved my point of her identity, bouncing off an invisible barrier that emanated from beneath her skin, and creating all manner of sparking lights in the process. She sought to capitalize on my apparent instability after that attack, and brought her Eviscerator down upon me; I caught it within a sorcerous grasp, not making contact with its roaring edge, while I spun Drepane into a backhanded grip and swung wide against her once more.


    Lucene must not have fully trusted the defense of her inner Rosarius¡ªwhich was fair¡ªas she repositioned her Eviscerator to block Drepane¡¯s second slice. But as before, I had buried my fury in its edge, and when our blades connected I sent her stumbling back, albeit not flying away as I had at first. I leapt after her, and again she caught Drepane against her larger sword, only this time I did not knock her away. Instead, I whisked my witching hand out from between us, scorching the scene ahead of my view in black flame.


    When the flames parted, I spied her eyes glimmering slightly brighter than they had before, but her already-stygian flesh had apparently been singed by my attack, loosing a slight steam. There was more to her than I knew, more to her than she felt she needed to reveal to me yet. I already knew she possessed wings, and could survive beyond an atmosphere, though she had not demonstrated either feat to me or to Silas in combat. But still, I knew she had more than that yet. Howsoever she had acquired such power, through whatever manner of villainy, I knew I had to destroy her. She was a pawn in a game of darkling creatures, as was I, and if the common men and women of the Holy Imperium had any hope for survival, we had to destroy each other. No man could face those such as she and I in bloodthirsty combat and emerge victorious. We, therefore, did not belong, but at least I knew it.


    And still, the daemon laughed and laughed.


    I surged forth for her again, and in such movement her eyes glowed brighter and brighter. She must have thought I had taken her bait, and sought to exploit that in a burst of heightened abilities. If she had inherited anything from the Lucene I had known, it certainly was a prowess in combat. Little did she know that I had already spent centuries learning from her tutelage as well. A moment after I ran toward her, she repeated the attack that had taken my brother from me, and in a blink of golden light, had raced across the scene, bringing her Eviscerator through me in one clean motion.


    In a way, it was comforting to know that she, like me, was going for the kill. Perhaps we really would destroy each other, for the good of the Imperium, and I might finally be freed from the clutches of the daemon. But though her Eviscerator had passed through me, I had not allowed it to make contact, and she spun about in time to see my figure fade out in smokey wisps, blown away by the wind. And then, an instant later, I repeated her attack myself and drew us close, Drepane backed by my heinous magics against her Eviscerator. ¡°You can do more,¡± I hissed over the roaring of her chainweapon.


    ¡°My power is not for you,¡± she said, eyes narrowing.


    ¡°If not for me, for no one,¡± I answered, and took a deep breath as I plunged my mind into the deepest recesses of its psykana. In the past, this would have pained me greatly, forcing a nose- or ear-bleed. I had thought that was the cost of using such great power, but in truth it was just me unknowingly fighting against the Inquisition¡¯s wards. With those shields shattered, I was made whole, so terribly complete. And though I could likely still tire out and temporarily exhaust my abilities, I would first need to unleash a horrifying amount of psykana.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I slid away from Lucene in a brief retreat, but brought Drepane overhead and arced behind me. I took one step toward her, crouching into a sideways squat as Lucene¡¯s eyes went wide, and then spun about and whipped Drepane out in her direction. The blast was deafening, and Lucene at last revealed her wings to fly above and beyond it. A ripple of psychic darkness shot out along Drepane¡¯s edge, slicing reality twain, until it collided with a faraway mountain range. It sliced the caps of those mountains off, and then the concussive shockwave of a vacuum being formed across reality blasted those mountaintops to smithereens.


    I felt nothing, where once it would have killed me to unleash an attack a thousandth as powerful. I felt nothing, and heard only laughter.


    Lucene hovered above, wings beating, as she looked down at her darkened foe. I glanced up at her, and she said, ¡°You are no mere man.¡±


    ¡°What gave that away?¡±


    ¡°What is your goal here? Why are we fighting?¡± she asked.


    ¡°My goal is to end you,¡± I answered. ¡°And we are fighting because neither of us belongs in this story anymore.¡±


    ¡°My story is not yet told,¡± she denied.


    ¡°And whose fault is that?¡± I shrugged. ¡°And what makes you think your story is worth telling in the first place?¡±


    She paused at that, and closed her eyes. After a deep breath, she answered, ¡°My story is one of hope. And I will never stop believing in that.¡±


    ¡°You and I have different opinions on your involvement in hope, then,¡± I replied. ¡°When I look at you¡­all I see is anguish and despair. Hope is in people, not in angels and daemons like us.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a daemon, then?¡± Lucene asked, and I had no answer. The line seemed so very blurred these days. What was the difference, really, other than that Cronos wanted to destroy everything imaginable and I did not? That¡¯s pretty much the only difference, for now, it confirmed. ¡°Then perhaps my power is for you after all.¡±


    ¡°If you think it¡¯ll be enough,¡± I replied, and flourished Drepane, preparing for whatever she had in store. Lucene blinked once more, but when her eyes opened from that blink, they were gone, replaced with pools of golden light. Her figure shone, a light in the dark, and the clouds above even began to part. I looked on at her with some awe, I¡¯ll admit. Whatever she may have been, truly, she certainly had the outward appearance of an angel, and may have had the power to play the part. Could she do it? Could she defeat, nay, could she slay Cronos, with all her glimmering, gilded might?


    No.


    My grip tightened on Drepane. Oh, how I wished she could do it. My mind, briefly, flicked back to Abseradon. ¡°Will you see it?¡± Sigird had asked me of my death. I wondered if Cronos could see its demise above me, if it merely pretended not to.


    I do not die this day, Blackgar.


    But that does imply a death one day. So there was hope, then. One would have to give that to this faux-Lucene, then, for inspiring that. Thinking about Cronos¡¯s death, I whispered to myself, ¡°Bring it on.¡±


    And she did.


    Thick, gargantuan tendrils of golden light shot out from her back and slammed into the ground all around me, blasting through and shattering the nearby terrain. Each one missed me, but it took me a moment to realize that they were not for me, not directly; instead, they formed a cage, one which very rapidly shrunk in size as Lucene descended upon me from above. She slammed into the ground where I stood, Eviscerator- and fist-first, and the scene lit up as though a star had been born on Ran¨¦la¡¯s surface.


    When the light faded, everything in view had been scorched in an intense, near-nuclear heat, shadows burnt into faded ground. Only Lucene¡¯s angelic form remained, ablaze in golden fire and with white wings extended. And then she sensed it. The shadows on the ground began to flicker, proving not to be burnt images at all but a hiding place for something sinister. ¡°Very impressive, we two destroyers, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°I am more than a destroyer,¡± she rebutted.


    ¡°Pity,¡± I replied. I waited for Lucene to blink, and when she did, when her view had darkened, I reappeared before her. In the brief span of time in which her eyes were still shut, I willed the shadows out of the ground and into my sorcerous grasp, after which I threw my arm wide across the scene. Purple-tinged darkness lanced out from me as though from an inverted lascannon, and Lucene opened her eyes just in time to shield herself in golden light. Where the shadows struck the ground around her, abyssal purple flames erupted, shattering the scene after her attack further and wider still.


    Lucene shot forth for me again, but even before she had reached me, I was gone. I reappeared a short distance to her right, and just as quickly vanished again. I popped in and out of sight all around her a dozen times over the span of a second to overwhelm her senses, choosing at last to manifest above her. I plummeted Drepane into the ground where she stood, aware that she would backstep and dodge such an attack with ease, so I followed it up by punching a hand of witchfire into the hole Drepane had carved. Lucene found herself caught in the shadows that exploded out from the ground, and was subsequently blasted away from me, enshrouded in black flame.


    She caught herself on her feet, and with a single beat of her wings, dismissed the darkling flames that had enshrouded her. But they had met her flesh despite her shielding power, singing her further. When the dark fire of my initial explosion faded, I had gone from her view once more. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend trying that attack again, daemon,¡± she warned me.


    ¡°Why?¡± came the weak and weary response to her left, and she spun about in horror to face her lost friend, reanimated. ¡°Why are we here, Lucy? What¡¯s to be gained?¡± the Eldar asked her. ¡°Think of what we¡¯ve lost already.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t stop thinking about you, Zaer,¡± she replied, but closed her eyes and shook her head. Mental imagery of the scene faded away, the Eldar, the ground, and the sky melting apart, and she found herself instead suspended in the air, trapped within a shadowy grasp. ¡°You dare use my fallen friends against me?¡± she seethed. I stood a short distance before her, biological arm extended her way to keep her afloat and contained.


    ¡°It is what they do,¡± I sighed, nodding.


    ¡°Are you or aren¡¯t you one of them?¡± she growled.


    ¡°I have never thought myself among the angels, if that answers your question,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean you have to be among the daemons,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s your choice, whoever you are.¡±


    ¡°My choice?¡± I asked, scoffing. But then I thought about it. Much as I had never wanted this power, as I had never imagined such a horrible fate for myself, I understood that she was not wrong. I chose to get a name from Cronos to save Mirena¡¯s life, I chose to live to fulfill Lucene¡¯s dying wish. Would I get a third chance, and even if so, what could it possibly look like?


    In my distraction, Lucene found an opportunity to surge power out from her form and shatter the grasp I had on her, letting her fly free of me. But she was not retreating, not really; once more, tentacles of light cascaded out of her form, and these ones flew for me directly. I dodged between them, at times physically and at others via minor Warp translation, but she must have been able to sense Warp signatures, as she persistently seemed to know where I was heading next. Even when I appeared before her, in midair, her surprise was only momentary at best, short enough that when I thrust a fist of shadow toward her, she deflected it with one arm and used the other to launch me away.


    I vanished into a plume of black fire upon landing far below her, but she chose to follow me into the fire. She dove down, into the murky depths of darkness I had conjured, and illuminated them with another near-nuclear display of light. That time, I was the one to get burned, albeit only barely. But I had clearly forced her to give me her all; I decided, then, it was only fair that I do the same. I had, until then, been fighting with only one blade, Drepane, but the Pyran way was with two. As I leapt away from her dazzling shine, I thrust my witching hand to my side, and the shadows coalesced from the surrounding area and out of my body into an edge of darkness that mirrored the shape and size of Drepane to a T. Never before had I felt this power before; it was cool, icy, like cold steel within my grasp.


    I brought both blades ahead of me, focusing on Lucene¡¯s golden gaze that hung between their ends. And then I brought them to bear against her, Pyran-commissar-turned-nigh-daemonhost against Sister-Repentia-turned-nigh-angel, faith-forgotten versus power-undesired, and our clash was swift and merciless, like celestial bodies in collision. I cannot hope to fit a moment-to-moment description of our battle within this text, as Lucene and I traded too many blows in too short a time to ever begin to enumerate. Suffice to say that either of us could have eviscerated the nightmares of Abseradon, or crushed the Phaenonite Cabal, or shattered the Shatter Corps in an instant if faced with such ¡®threats¡¯ then. Our battle eclipsed anything therein, and yet for all our power, I knew in the back of my mind that even this display would not have changed the outcome Ouranos had designed for us, that for all we could muster, our fates were inescapable. Power was not enough. We needed something that neither of us had, and may never have.


    That, then, must have been why Cronos was so confident that Lucene could not kill it.


    Nothing was enough to kill it. Even our cataclysmic, earth-shattering battle drowned in the abyss of its deafening laughter.


    It was when I full-body ducked under a horizontal slash of her Eviscerator that an opportunity to win presented itself, and I took it. As its monomolecular teeth screeched by, I briefly dropped Drepane to the ground and thrust my augmetic up against the flat of Lucene¡¯s blade. With a simple flick of my thoughts, my augmetic hand shot upward, launching the blade far overhead, out of Lucene¡¯s grasp. In her moment of surprise, I reeled my augmetic digits back to me while their mechanical forearm broke the shielding of her Rosarius with a trio of Psybolts. In that brief, millisecond-length downtime, I spun about, slashing through her flesh with the cold edge of my psykana while plucking Drepane from the ground, and in the same motion, closed both of my blades, material and ethereal, upon Lucene¡¯s neck as she fell to her knees.


    And my heart broke once more.

 Chapter 137 - Resignation

    Silence. Any other day, I would have called it Blessed Silence, but there was nothing Bless¡¯d about today. It was not an end to the tumult, I knew that, but merely the calm in the eye of the storm. And speaking of eyes, I could still feel the shadows within slide around the hole in my face where an eye used to be. They crept out from behind my eyepatch with amoebic arms and clutched at the rest of my skull. And yet, they did not speak to me, nor laugh at me. They just simply were. Present, and nothing more.


    Likewise, the blood that dripped from Lucene¡¯s neck onto my (material) blade, and from there down her body, did not make a sound. Despite hints to the contrary, however, I had not decapitated her, if only just. Despite the incomprehensibly brisk pace with which we had conducted our battle, I had caught myself before such a terrible end. Yet now, head held aloft between two sharpened edges, Lucene continued to stare into my one eye with the same resolute fury she had possessed throughout the whole of our battle. Her eyes were like fangs, sharp and narrow, daring me to strike her down. It was at that thought that her Eviscerator, which I had sent soaring overhead, out of her grasp, finally landed on the ground some distance behind her, hilt pointed skyward.


    Its landing caught my attention, briefly, and when I turned my gaze from her, she spoke up, proving my earlier deduction: ¡°Well? Do it, shadow-of-mine. Death will not stop me from coming for you.¡± I looked back at her. And it was then, finally, that things clicked. I saw the whole gambit, the entire nature of Cronos¡¯s scheme. An undying being of the Warp such as she, she that had taken on Lucene¡¯s face and form to torment me¡ªthose that did not stay dead had no known reason to fear death, just as the Phaenonites hadn¡¯t; so great, too, was Lucene¡¯s courage then. But not-knowing a reason was not not-having one. Lucene had come back from the dead, possibly multiple times, but what if she wouldn¡¯t, in the right circumstance? What if she self-destructively threw herself against the embodiment of self-destruction, and in that, succumbed to its grasp once and for all?


    What if I could kill her, finally and totally?


    I stumbled back from that precipice, sorcerous blade dissipating, and looked past Lucene again. I did not intend to look at her Eviscerator once more, but my eyes landed on it all the same, where I spied the initials she had carved onto its hilt long ago¡ªCB, LF, our initials. Such a simple thing, yet the weight of it overtook me, and I dropped Drepane to the ground, shortly followed by my knees. From there, I stared blankly ahead, lost and defeated.


    Blankly ahead, however, meant at her. ¡°What?¡± she said, frowning, lacking even an iota of knowledge about the situation.


    ¡°You have no idea who we are, do you?¡± I asked, vocally confirming the above.


    ¡°I am Luciene,¡± she answered. Pronounced Lucy-en, not Lucene. A small alteration to the name her form once bore. ¡°Should I know who you are, shadow?¡±


    That hurt more than anything, even if I could see it coming. Not only could she not remember me, which was bad enough, but it was a grim reminder that Lucene was gone. Dead. And this thing before me, this woman, this angel, it was not her. Not really. As close as she came, she was not her. ¡°We were,¡± I said, and tripped over the thought. ¡°We were¡­everything. We were everything, together,¡± I stumbled, and hung my head low. Gingerly, now not within the vice grip of a powersword and a blade of ether, Lucene¡ªor Luciene, rather¡ªbegan to stand to her feet. She took a single step away from me, and I raised my head to her again. ¡°Don¡¯t go. Please, don¡¯t leave me. Not again.¡±


    ¡°This flesh I wear, and the bones beneath, I am not the first to have them, am I?¡± she deduced. I nodded. ¡°You knew the first?¡± I nodded again. ¡°I¡¯m not her,¡± she said flatly, and turned from me to step nearer to her sword.


    ¡°We were wed!¡± I called out to her in exasperation, and she stopped mid-step. ¡°For centuries, we were together,¡± I explained. ¡°We were wonderful together. We had children together. We were everything, together.¡±


    ¡°I am not her,¡± Luciene repeated, voice quiet but terse.


    ¡°And yet you are,¡± I shook my head. ¡°You are as I always saw you. You speak like her, you fight like her, you think like her. You hope like her.¡±


    She returned to facing me at last, at that, and I got to behold her in all her glory once more. Wings spread, and with a golden aura about her form, she was a vision of majesty and beauty, exactly as I had always seen her. ¡°She died,¡± Luciene said. While it was an assertion of mutually-known fact, it was said almost as a question. I nodded again, regardless. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°The Dark took her, as it conspires to take you now,¡± I replied.


    She stared at me for a moment, and then asserted, ¡°And in so-doing, it left you a broken man. And in the cracks, the Dark festers within you, through you. For what can a man of shadow hope?¡±


    ¡°Light,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°And yet you¡¯re here, taking mine,¡± she hissed. ¡°Does the Dark wield you, or you it? Who is responsible for the horrors your body wrought here, and who is absolved of your actions? Are we slaves to our flesh, you and I, or to our actions? These questions are for us to answer, and us alone, and yet I know not their truths.¡±


    ¡°Nor do I,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Then in that, at least, we are together. Lost,¡± she said, sighing, and put a hand over a shaking head. ¡°What¡¯s your name, shadow?¡±


    ¡°Callant Blackgar. Why do you keep calling me shadow, other than¡­the obvious,¡± I said, gesturing to my missing eye.


    ¡°Cal,¡± she repeated, and then mouthed the rest of my name. That much, evidently, she remembered. ¡°And¡­Zha Trantos?¡±


    ¡°A subordinate that you and I raised from youth. She looked up to us, greatly,¡± I answered.


    Luciene paused at that, clearly aware that there were implications in my statement beyond the words themselves, yet not knowing what those implications were. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, she replied, ¡°I call you ¡®shadow¡¯ because that is what you are in my dreams. Your shape and size is the same, but I envisioned you in silky darkness. We fight hordes of hellspawn together before towering doors of brass, but in the end, I always lose you just as the doors open.¡±


    ¡°The Finality,¡± I understood, forever haunted by that scene. ¡°It is where you¡ªshe¡ªdied. We are trapped there, you and I, still fighting the dark. And the light wanes. Luciene,¡± I began, the name alien to me and not sounding quite right. I shuffled, gingerly, to my feet. ¡°End me. Spare the cosmos of the shade my mind harbors.¡±


    Luciene stared at me a moment more, and then reached behind herself. Light encompassed her Eviscerator, and with a sighing gasp on the wind, the blade flew into her possession from afar. In one clean motion, she swung it about, going for my neck, and I must admit, I closed my eye on instinct. Turns out, I did not want to see it coming. Yet arrive in full it did not, and though the roar of monomolecular teeth buzzed beneath my ear, I pried my eye open to find that, indeed, Luciene had caught herself as I had. For the first time since our battle began, tears streaked from her eyes. ¡°I see the neverborn malevolence within you, Cal,¡± she said. ¡°I see it festering, growing. I see the pain it causes, for you and for me¡ªfor Zaer. And for Zaer, I so very much want your head. And yet¡­every drop of my blood screams to spare you.¡±


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    ¡°Please,¡± I asked of her, all but begging. ¡°If it gets out¡ª¡±


    ¡°If it gets out, everything ends. Yes, I see that. But that is not what you fear most. You fear, selfishly, that your involvement in this journey is not yet finished, and that fear is true. You have a part to play yet,¡± Luciene said, and pulled her Eviscerator away from me. ¡°I know not what you must do, Callant Blackgar, but I know that if I keep you from it, everything I care about dies. So go, and do what you must.¡±


    She turned her back on me and made to leave, but I would not have it. ¡°No,¡± I seethed, and she stopped in her step once more. While I fidgeted with my arm, she turned to face me again, and I continued, ¡°No, I think I am done. Take this,¡± I told her, and tossed my augmetic between us. ¡°Our allies squabble, because that is all they know. Mine will need a symbol to believe in. They¡¯ll see that, and they¡¯ll understand,¡± I explained, pointing with my one remaining hand to the arm that laid on the ground, just as Silas¡¯s did, some miles away. ¡°But for my part, no, I am done playing this game.¡±


    And I, like Luciene, turned to leave.


    ¡°Where will you go?¡± she shouted to my back. Unlike her, however, her words did not halt my step.


    ¡°To die on my own terms!¡± I said in return. ¡°As I should have years ago, with you.¡±


    Luciene watched me go for as long as she could, which, given the strength of her eyes, proved to be quite a while. But even she could not see forever, and when I had left her view, vanishing into the dusty horizon of Ran¨¦la, she turned her back to me as well, and set out upon her own path, augmetic arm in tow.


    ***


    ¡°Is this really necessary?¡± Kor¡¯Kassan asked, the sole member of his surviving crew not presently kneeling on the ground and restrained.


    ¡°Do you have a better way of keeping this bucket of bolts from rampaging through us all?¡± Bliss asked in return, arms wrapped around Zet¡¯s neck, holding the throatless machine in a chokehold.


    ¡°There are in fact no bolts within my body, you genetic aberrant,¡± Zet returned, looking up at his captor. His voice was clearly not strained by the hold he found himself in, but his body had been sorely damaged; nothing Necrodermis could not eventually heal, but joints had been broken and armor had been pierced.


    ¡°Yes, it is necessary,¡± Zha declared, scanning the scene. ¡°Even if it is not ideal, it is, for the time being, necessary.¡± Bliss had, without a scratch on her body, subdued the Xenos machine as she had been instructed. Mirena, with a fair few scratches and bruises, had subdued the Guardsman and Death Cult Assassin, and was currently holding them at gunpoint, standing to their backs while they knelt upon the dusty earth of Ran¨¦la. Kor¡¯Kassan stood to Zha¡¯s left, unharmed but uneasy, which was fair, as the entire group presently sat in the shadow of a hulking brute of an Imperial Knight.


    ¡°Until when, Trantos?¡± Kane said, and flinched when she glanced his way. ¡°Are we waiting for something in particular?¡±


    ¡°For Inquisitor Blackgar to return, yes,¡± Zha answered with a nod.


    ¡°It did not seem like he wants to,¡± Luciene answered, wings beating in a slow descent from above. Her crew breathed in a sigh of relief at her voice, while my allies looked on at her with a mix of dread and awe. She landed on the ground behind the line of captives, but facing Zha, Kor¡¯Kassan, and the Knight. Speaking of the Knight, it was its Volcano Lance that, in a flash, thrust forward, barrel directly in front of the angel¡¯s face.


    Meeting that provocation, Luciene calmly and confidently lifted my augmetic into the air, brandishing it almost as a trophy. In response, energy began charging within the Volcano Lance. Luciene held her ground, staring down the barrel¡ªliterally¡ªof a Titan-killing superweapon inches from her face as its innards heated up, beginning to glow red-hot.


    ¡°Galen.¡±


    The charging paused, and the great Knight looked down at the far-less-imposing form of the woman standing next to Kor¡¯Kassan. Then, with some reluctance, the Lance pulled away. Heads swiveled upon the Knight¡¯s momentary surrender, and then a Laspistol landed on the ground. ¡°Cal!¡± Mirena shouted, and in a heartbeat deserted the deserters she was guarding, running for¡ªthen past¡ªLuciene.


    ¡°Let her go,¡± Zha instructed her two remaining allies. ¡°Let her go,¡± she said again, more softly, for herself. Then she looked up to Luciene again, watching Mirena¡¯s backside grow smaller in the distance. ¡°Is he alive?¡± she asked the angel.


    ¡°He was when we parted ways, but he does not wish to be. He gave me this willingly,¡± Luciene explained, jostling the augmetic arm in her grasp.


    ¡°You¡¯re a weapon against him,¡± Bliss said flatly, a tear rolling down her cheek.


    ¡°I¡¯ve come to learn that, yes,¡± Luciene nodded. ¡°Release my friend, Carmichael.¡±


    Bliss stared at Luciene for a moment, an ocean of emotions swirling beneath her skin, and then looked to Zha. Zha nodded, and Zet subsequently fell forward, out of Bliss¡¯s arms. At that, Luciene began to stride toward the group, and as her aura fell upon the scene, any wounds that anyone had suffered began to heal, Necrodermis included. ¡°Rise, my friends,¡± Luciene commanded, and Kane and Mir did so. Zet was a bit slower to his feet, waiting for Bliss to circle around away from him. Bliss and Luciene reached Zha at the same time, where Luciene handed the latter my arm. Water formed at the edges of Zha¡¯s eyes as fingers curled around inert mechatronics. ¡°There is hope yet. For him. She runs toward him now. But no one survives the Dark alone. We¡¯re only getting through this together.¡±


    ***


    ¡°As are we,¡± Veralith agreed, the scene of Luciene¡¯s meeting with Trantos displayed before her eyes by an array of amorphous lights. Warp-energy seeped through the room, twisting and corrupting all corners and sides of the structure, melting them away such that there were no corners or sides. No Gellar field protected the Blackstone Fortress within the Warp; instead, the Vaktez Quartet invited the Empyrean into their abode, drinking up the foul forces like a nectar. Veralith was using it to shape scenes across the cosmos into view before herself and her siblings. Her siblings knew that they¡ªmostly because they had her¡ªwere more than capable of throwing back any daemons that might have made the mistake of invading their ship.


    ¡°It appears to me, sister, that our enemies grow stronger,¡± Mordefir asserted, nodding toward the display.


    ¡°Strength,¡± Veralith muttered, smiling coyly. ¡°Yes, in the physical sense, their forces are bolstered by each other. But our success demands their strength.¡±


    ¡°And what of Cronos?¡± Lunacius asked, swiping a claw through the dancing lights before them. It did nothing to affect their view of the scene. ¡°Are we to entrust the daemon to two mere mortals?¡±


    ¡°Those two mortals are of greater character than you give them credit for,¡± Veralith chided. ¡°For his part, the daemon¡¯s host has managed to thwart the daemon¡¯s plans on this day. Unknowingly, perhaps, or perhaps not. But Cronos wanted to taste an angel, and it has not. The daemon¡¯s host has bought us precious time, time which we should not waste. Galpalos?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my sister?¡± Galpalos spoke up, raising his head from his work. Though he stood at the seeing-plinth like the rest of the quartet, his attention was mostly focused on his medical work. But even a highly-focused bioengineer knew better than to keep Veralith waiting for a response.


    ¡°Is it ready?¡±


    ¡°Almost. The Hive Mind is¡­resilient, its many mouths adaptable. But we are close to a solution that can change rapidly enough,¡± Galpalos answered. ¡°If we could perhaps make a stop in Grandfather¡¯s Garden¡ª¡±


    ¡°That would not be wise,¡± Mordefir shook his head. ¡°It is currently aflame, burning in Anathemic agony. Which perhaps is why your work has been stifled. But the flames will die.¡±


    ¡°They better. Our window for ending the swarm shrinks day by¡ª¡± Lunacius began, but his sister cut him off.


    ¡°We know the stakes,¡± Veralith interrupted. ¡°We continue with the plan, and we assume the Everchanging will be made ready for its grand deployment when the time is right. Until then, Lunacius, you¡¯re up. It¡¯s time to meet and greet.¡±


    ¡°I have always looked forward to dancing with an Angel,¡± Lunacius admitted, nodding and smiling smugly.

 Afterword...?

    Lots on my mind. Let¡¯s see if we can get through this together without me rambling (much).


    First of all, I¡¯m not sure this should be an Afterword. You may recall way back in the Afterword of the first Volume (Penance) that I mentioned wanting to write seven or eight volumes total. The general story is unchanged, but truth be told, I am uncertain whether I should be separating the next Volume apart from this one. This Volume, Renascence, is about ten fewer chapters than all the others, though each chapter has been longer, so the word counts are comparable all the same. (It¡¯s still a bit shorter than the rest.) And while I know what the next Volume should contain, I frankly do not know (yet) how to beef up the in-between story beats to make it a full feature-length novel. So, it occurs to me that I could very well just continue writing the current Volume of Renascence rather than making a sixth Volume to tell the story as per the original plan. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll do this¡­


    ¡­but I could. Maybe I¡¯ll have a better idea by the time I finish this Afterword.


    Storyboarding is not something I do much of too far in advance. I know the grand story, yes, but I have not planned out every last piece of the puzzle to arrive at the final destination. I just remember the big things I want to hit along the way. When it comes to the in-between chapters, when I sit down at the start of a new novel, I open up Notepad(++) and jot down, chapter by chapter, my ideas for each one. I¡¯ll then use this document to keep track of my progress as well, denoting +¡¯s or ¨C¡¯s when I merge or split some chapters. You can see in the image below that Renascence came in well below the original chapter divide, ending up ¡°concluding¡± at Chapter 17 instead of 21. It happens. But I¡¯m showing this to explain that I haven¡¯t yet sat down with the next Volume and hashed out its chapter descriptions.


    Meanwhile, I¡¯ve recently been working on cataloguing this story into an Obsidian Vault. I have come to greatly enjoy Obsidian¡ªit is oddly addicting! I plan to make the Vault available to everyone when the story concludes, perhaps to act as something of a reader¡¯s companion. And I must admit, the graph visualization is quite fun to look at! Here¡¯s where we are now, below, though while I have spoilered any to-be-revealed names, I must caution you, one may (or may not) be able to make some inferences here and there about upcoming plot details by looking at the connections between nodes. So unspoiler at your own peril!


    (I¡¯ve corrected Luciene¡¯s name from Lucienne to Luciene after taking this image)


    I plan to add places (e.g., planets, ships) to this Vault before saying it¡¯s done. But even now, what a tangled web we¡¯ve woven! Are there any (named) characters you think I¡¯ve missed and should give a node to?


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    But enough about my meta-writing.


    ***


    So, Renascence. A story about Rebirth, literally, physically, and in the emotional sense. But to be reborn is not to be whole or complete. Some may argue that we, as humans, are never complete (which kind of has a Slaaneshi vibe to it), and that we are forever growing. So rebirth is inherently not the end of a story, but perhaps a new beginning. Speaking of ¡°story,¡± we keep seeing characters refer to their story. Yes, I¡¯ll concede it¡¯s a bit of meta-commentary on the nature of them just being characters (knowingly or, more likely, not) in a story of my writing. But it is also a bit of fun to ¡°toy¡± with the idea of whose story this really is, in-universe. For four whole Volumes, I bet most of us would have said that it was a story about Callant Blackgar. But, is it, really?


    Sure, the entire story is written in his first-person perspective (even when he isn¡¯t present), but does that make it his story? The story is called Cronos! And Cronos claims it as its own in Chapter 119. Is this tale about a grimdark, apocalypse-level greater daemon that threatens to devour all reality?


    I mean, kinda, yeah.


    But does that make the story belong to this daemon? Jury¡¯s still out. And now Luciene says that her story is not yet told, so we have a third power player on the scene too. And I bet if you asked, Veralith, or at least her siblings, would tell you that it¡¯s actually a story all about them. Are they wrong? We got a couple hints of the Vaktez Quartet way back in Volume 2, before we even heard Cronos¡¯s name mentioned. (Which took until Volume 3.)


    I have a friend that ¡°hates protagonists [as a concept].¡± Now, I¡¯m not writing this for him alone. In fact, he hasn¡¯t read any of this yet. (He may when the tale is finished, which is a good enough motivator for me to keep at it.) But I only just recently learned of this opinion of his, and I¡¯ve found it both very funny and very interesting. I think I can confidently say that Callant Blackgar is the protagonist of this story, and that there won¡¯t be much disagreement there. Hopefully. But I still don¡¯t know if that makes the story his, even if he is the one telling it. I think, and perhaps I¡¯d just like to believe, that perhaps this story is about everyone and no one. It¡¯s about seeing Cronos and Veralith¡¯s respective rises to power. It¡¯s about the desperate defiance against them, and the glimmers of hope that oppose their world-ending shadows.


    It¡¯s a story that has grown far beyond its initial scope, when I was writing it for my father alone. Now, it¡¯s a story I am very much enjoying writing for myself, and I¡¯m glad to see it grow and be given shape. In many ways, it¡¯s a story enjoying a Renascence of its own.


    ***


    The future is a bit scary these days. The world seems to be in flux and upheaval. We live in changing times. More personally, I¡¯m moving, for the first time in my life. I signed the lease a few days ago and will begin moving to my first-ever apartment a few days from now. This is no blog, but hey, while I have you here, I¡¯m scared. There¡¯s a lot on my mind, and yet, I cannot shake my thoughts about this tale. Looking ahead, I¡¯m a bit excited. Excited to live on my own (with a friend), excited to write what¡¯s coming up next, though aware that my time to write may be a bit constrained over the next few weeks on account of the move.


    For as scary as things may be, try to find some room for hope. I¡¯ve made a point of it, and I hope you can too. Hope is the only way we¡¯ll push through the Dark together. And, together, I hope you¡¯ll join me for Volume 6(5.5?): Cronos.


    There¡¯ll be a lot of Dark to push through in it.


    <ul>


    <li>Ceno</li>


    </ul>