594.M41
Chapter 1
The Dark Road
They numbered in the hundreds. Cultists, heretics, and mutants. Music echoed throughout the subterranean levels of the massive forge complex on Stratix IV with the help of voxcasters. The music was a more noise... a cacophony of descant tones that wove together and struck the ear with an inherent wrongness that pervaded the senses. At least, that was how Tristan felt when he listened to it. His half dozen acolytes crept through the catwalks as silently as possible.
The cultists surrounded a metal workbench that had been converted into an altar. Upon it a heavily drugged woman moaned and moved her head about listlessly. She twisted her head back and forth quietly. Her hands and legs bound to the corners of the table. She was stripped of all but her undergarments. Tristan had no problem identifying her, however. Stratix IV's governor, Jenice La Roche. He furrowed his brow as he watched from the shadows of one of the catwalks. Mostly hidden from view by the large metal vats which, when the forge was running, brought molten steel up to the upper levels of the forge. Jenice had been kidnapped moments ago. None but Tristan had any idea who had kidnapped the governor, or where they had gone. The Arbites were scouring the rest of the planet, searching through traffic reports, busting down doors, and canvassing the hab-spires.
"Fortuno to all... Position Set?" Tristan whispered over the vox channel to his half dozen followers that were now scattered about the forge.
"Secure Fortuno. Awaiting your signal." The reports came in from each of the acolytes.
Stratix IV had only recently come to the attention of the Ordo Hereticus with the death of Cardinal Alessaunder. The Cardinal had been found in his bed, splayed out like an angel. Wings, stretched out of his own flayed skin, completed the picture. In the dead Ecclesiarch's blood, arcane symbols were scrawled on the wall above his bed. Inquisitor Tristan Fortuno had arrived only a day later. The Arbites didn't need to know who was behind it. Nor did he need the Ecclesiarchy standing in his way if he told them who it was. Xanatov Victris, a member of the Frateris Militia of the Ecclesiarchy had fought bravely for the Imperium in times past. But each battle showed a slight change in Xanatov's actions. They became more and more brutal. More and more innocent people died as he denounced them unclean. And most disturbingly, some of them were found ritually flayed open. Their skin stretched unnaturally to look like the wings of an angel. Xanatov had fallen off the grid for over two decades. Many presumed him dead, but the Inquisition never closed his file. Despite the Ecclesiarchy's insistence that his band of the Frateris Militia had been wiped out in a battle against an Ork incursion, the Inquisition wanted a body. There was none to be had.
The Ordos of the Inquisition didn't always get along with the Ecclesiarchy, and though the Cardinal himself had been murdered, Tristan didn't need the headache of dealing with his successor.
"Brothers and sisters!" Cried a shrill voice as the chanting stopped and the voxcasters went silent. The cultists parted and a wild-eyed man stepped forward to the table. His bald head glittered and shimmered as the small electoos that covered his scalp flickered in the poor lighting of the forge.
"We have found a source of corruption! We have brought the Governor here to be redeemed! TO BE BROUGHT TO THE EMPEROR! We have been set upon this path by an angel of divine providence! The transformation of this unclean one into an angel of the Emperor's own making is at hand my brothers and sisters! We shall purify her!" Xanatov screeched his words. The crowd of cultists shouted and shrieked and whooped in an ever louder ecstasy. Xanatov reached to the tattered, loose fitting robes and withdrew a wicked looking dagger.
Governor La Roche moaned at the shrieking and catcalling and cheering of the cultists around her, blissfully unaware of whatever was going on around her.
Tristan stood from his hiding place and drew his auto-pistol at Xanatov and cried out over the crowd.
"Xanatov Victris! In the name of the Immortal Emperor, empowered by the Holy Inquisition, I name you Hereticus and declare you anathema to the Imperium!" Tristan's voice boomed. From his high location, his voice carried over the shouting of the cultists. The crowd of heretical filth looked up to Tristan's position, as did Xanatov.
"AN AGENT OF THE DARK ONES! KILL HIM!" Screeched Xanatov, enraged at having been interrupted.
The auto-pistol in Tristan's hand barked as he pulled the trigger and fired, aiming for Xanatov. The slugs missed, slamming into a cultist that shoved their beloved leader to the ground for cover. From various points around the room, Tristan's acolytes fired their weapons. A grenade from Sawyer Marn's Voss-pattern grenade launcher exploded and sent half a dozen of the cultists flying through the air, their bodies broken and limbs twisted to odd angles. Las bolts from four different positions fired and cut down the cultists, who now began to panic. Tristan fired his auto-pistol once more, sending more slugs into the churning mass of the cultists as they did their best to find cover. Most fled in fear. A few fought back, former members of the Frateris Militia under Xanatov's command that were quite well armed. Tristan crouched as shots rang off of the catwalk railing from a stubber. Another grenade from Marn's grenade launcher sent a shockwave through the fleeing cultists. Several, armed with little more than scraps of pipe and iron bars, made their way to the catwalk, intent on bringing down the one who dared attack their master in the midst of his most unholy work. Tristan turned as he heard a snarling howl of rage behind him. A simultaneous ricochet off of the railing forced Tristan to stumble backward with a clatter onto the catwalk as a cultist with a large twisted piece of steel stood over him, the steel raised and ready to end Tristan's life.
The sneer of the cultist turned into a look of shocked surprise as twin crystalline blades erupted from its chest and then moved laterally. Having slipped between the ribs and punctured the lungs, the cultist was nearly cut in half before being pushed over the railing and landing on the floor with a sickening wet crunch. Tarvanna stared at Tristan with the cold glare she typically wore. The assassin merely nodded before leaping away over the catwalk to land on the ground. The few remaining cultists were cowering behind barrels and refuse and overturned work tables, trying to mount a pathetic defense of their efforts, but it was over. In moments they were dead. Brought down by las fire, blasted apart by Marn's grenade launcher, or cut to shreds by Tarvanna's fractal blades. When all was over, the members of Tristan's team searched the dead for any sign of Xanatov.
While his acolytes were busy, Tristan made his way to the governor and gave her a quick look over for injuries. She smelled of Obscura and her eyes were widely dilated. Withdrawing a small dagger from his belt, Tristan cut at the bonds on her wrists and hands.
"No sign of 'im boss." Marn grunted as he raised the grenade launcher and slipped it over his shoulder, pulling out a lho-stick and lighting it. Sawyer took a deep drag and smiled a bit. There were two things Sawyer loved... His killing, and his women... And he enjoyed a lho-stick after each.
Tristan snorted in frustration.
"Damn." He said as he withdrew his long top coat and slipped it over Governor La Roche's body, ensuring she was covered. The rest of his group stepped forward. "Are there any clues to his whereabouts?" Tristan asked.
Beyond a few identity badges and places of work on the cultists, there was nothing. Each shook their heads except for Tarvanna. With a quick whistle, Tristan looked toward her. She tossed a small metal tag his way. Ripped from the clothing of one of the Frateris Militia, it was an identification badge with a security code on the back from a shipping and distribution center that ensured the goods manufactured here on the forge world were shipped out to the proper place in the Imperium.
Tristan read the badge.
BRASSUS SHIPPING, DOCK 194-B.
It was as good a lead as any they'd had so far. With a nod to Tarvanna, Tristan gathered up the Governor in his arms. "Come on... We have to get out of here before they regain their wits and return. Making their way out of the forge complex, through back alleys, the Inquisitor and his group ran.
"She's stable. The Obscura overdose was not fatal, but it is good that you rescued her when you did..." Said Administrator Mennel. Behind him stood a very angry looking Arbites officer, his handlebar mustache twitching in irritation.
"We could have done a lot more if you'd informed us of your visit and worked with us inquisitor." The Arbites Officer said with a gruff, accusatory tone.
Tristan had been dreading this confrontation, but knew it to be necessary.
"Investigator Dariel. With all due respect, I have my reasons for working on this alone and keeping my business hidden." Tristan said, trying to keep his tone in check.
"That still doesn't explain why you wouldn't come to the Arbites and work with us. We could have rounded up the entire cult! We could have -" Dariel said, raising his voice angrily.
"The cult is of no importance! And we will gladly give you all of the leads we have so that you and your men may hunt them down to your heart's content. What IS of importance Investigator, is how a known heretic and the remainder of his unit of the Frateris Militia managed to get on Stratix IV without the Arbites even knowing he was here. Xanatov Victris is of importance. His group of Frateris Militia, many of whom died tonight, is of importance. Bored factory workers are your concern Investigator Dariel. Xanatov Victris is mine!" Tristan interrupted, fixing the Investigator with a hard stare.
"I... But.. Er..." Dariel sputtered, utterly taken off guard.
"Gentlemen... Please. The Governor is being tended to in only the next room by her private physicians. I am sure that Inquisitor Fortuno did not wish to confound the situation by announcing his arrival or place the Governor in any further danger. There is wisdom in the Inquisitor's approach that your own men employ in hostage situations do they not Investigator?" Mennel asked, his voice silky smooth as he did his best to mollify the agitated Arbites Investigator.
"Well... yes... we send in small teams to secure the hostages in such situations." He said with a frown. "But we have our men outside waiting to apprehend or kill any cultists once those hostages are secured." He pointed out.
"Xanatos Victris is not some aggravated hostage taker. He is not the garden variety cultist. He is a dangerous interstellar criminal, an apostate, and a highly intelligent enemy of the Imperium. We have disrupted his work here. We have sent him running, and now he is frightened. He will make mistakes. Mistakes we can capitalize upon while the Arbites does their fine work of gathering the cultists he's abandoned and bringing them to justice." Tristan said with a nod to Dariel. "I am certain you will execute your duties with efficiency Investigator. But please do not question my methods."
"Of course Inquisitor... I was merely upset at the situation and at the thought that we could have been of greater help to your investigation." Dariel apologized. Mennel gave a half smile and a nod, clapping Dariel on the shoulder.
"We shall hold you back no longer Inquisitor. Please keep us informed. When the Governor comes around I am certain she will wish to reward you for your work and extend her thanks personally." Administrator Mennel spoke.
"My work is reward enough Administrator. I will see you and the Governor later. For now, I have work to do. Investigator Dariel, I will have my savant forward all the information to you as soon as it is compiled so your people may get to work hunting down the rest of the cultists." Tristan said with a small bow as he excused himself.
As Tristan left and rejoined his followers in the antechamber just outside the Governor's audience hall, Tristan turned to his closest companion, Sawyer Marn.
"What do we do now boss?" Marn asked as he stepped up.
"We send a message to our ship, have our dear friend Havelock compile all the information about the cultists, including their identities, and have him forward it to the local Arbites." Tristan responded.
"And then?" Sawyer pressed, spitting on the sidewalk once they'd exited the building.
"Then we head to Dock 194-B and Brassus Shipping... And find out what Xanatov is doing there." Tristan said grimly.