Turning Point

by WKH

Turning Point - Warhammer 40k fanfiction : Joseph Vintros, once a promising soldier from humble beginnings, deserts the Imperial Guard when he uncovers a plot against him.

Turning Point / Chapters 1-12

In the nightmare future of the 41st millennium, mankind teeters upon the brink of extinction. The galaxy spanning Imperium of Man is beset on all sides by ravening aliens, and threatened from within by malevolent creatures and heretic rebels. Only the strength of the immortal Emperor of Terra stands between humanity and its annihilation. The Imperial Guard acts as a buffer between the darkness and the common folk of the Imperium. Ordinary and extraordinary men and women fight for the Emperor, for his domains, for their comrades and sometimes just for themselves.

Chapter 1 -Riding the Line

Had Joseph known that he would have to kill his best friend, he never would have stepped foot into that small musty recruitment office on Altariun Prime. The smug, balding man behind the desk never would have stood a chance of enticing him to join the 'glorious' Imperial Guard. However, here he was, on one of the Altariun 512th regiment's transport trucks, steadily making his way to a situation and place he never could have even dreamed his life would lead him.

Joseph could still recall why he had gone into that tiny, dank office and reluctantly had to admit that ego played a large part. After all, it wasn't everyday that a Field General of the Planetary Defense Force made a personal recommendation to the Guard for immediate rank and special pay. Even during the founding of the Guard's 510th on his home planet years before, the best that he could have hoped for was an early release from boot camp. But as he stood there between the guard recruiter and the Altariun PDF general, Joseph remembered the warm, uplifting feeling of pride as his accomplishments in the defense of his home planet warranted that special meeting.

Sudden turbulence from the road jolted Joseph back to the present, and the deed ahead once again loomed back into thought. Instinctively, he checked his Guard issue las-gun, ensuring the power cell was at full capacity. Absently satisfied, he slammed the clip's casing back into the stock.

The Green Lowe region of Garius IV was made up mostly of habitat farms and small, poor villages. Agriculture being its chief export for the Imperium, Garius IV reminded Joseph heavily of home. Only the main Imperial city of Pasius showed any advanced form of economic and social development. Because of the poor technological level of the entire planet, the archenemy of mankind had used a blind spot in the planetary defense to strike an invasion into the heart of Garius IV. The Imperial Guard's Altariun 511th, 512th, and the Herokin 220th platoons had been diverted to resist the Chaos invasion. The main fighting had occurred several hundred miles north from where Joseph was now stationed, but guerrilla warfare still harried the local area as scattered remnants of the enemy's forces migrated further south.

Sighing deeply, Joseph watched the clouds overhead slowly fade into the distance as the truck carried his squad further to the point of no return. Passing by on the right-hand side of the road was a large, worn farm. Having long been abandoned, the wooden portion of the buildings had begun their slow decay, but somehow defiantly held up the bulk of the structures. Like an image pulled straight out of his past, Joseph was inevitably drawn back to one fateful summer day.

Joseph had come to remember it as the single greatest defining summer of his life. His father gave him a special present for his 18th birthday. He was presented his freedom, and ultimately his destiny.

Growing up on the busy habitat farm had secured Joseph with a tough, muscular frame. Even between his eight other siblings and his father, there was always plenty of hard work to be done. Any hope for a life outside the family farm seemed distant to Joseph, further than any visible star in the clear summer night sky he spent hours gazing upon. But on that warm summer day, his father changed his life forever.

Sitting outside of the red, weather-worn barn, Darius Vintros called out for his son to join him for a moment. Darius motioned for Joseph to sit next to him. Brushing off the dirt from his torn and sweaty work clothes, Joseph took a seat on a bale of hay adjacent to his father.

"Joseph, I've been avoiding this moment for a long while," his father slowly started.

Looking into his eyes, Joseph could tell that it was truly a grave subject his father was attempting to broach. His heart began beating far too hard in his chest as he suddenly he felt short of breath. Joseph waited silently as his father took a few moments to collect his thoughts.

"A father never wants to admit, Emperor knows especially to himself, that his child's place is no longer at home."

Joseph couldn't help the puzzled look from appearing on his face, but before he could utter a sound his father raised a hand to prevent from being interrupted.

"Joseph, I've seen for far too long how your heart is not in this work. I watch you every day as you do your chores, and even your interaction with your brothers and sisters. This, I'm afraid to admit, is no longer meant to be your home."

Darius fought to control the tone of his voice, as a single tear began to form in his right eye. The stunned look from his son only worsened the pain that was beginning to grip his stomach. He felt genuinely sick, and doubted he would eat that night.

"Father, how can you say that?" Joseph said defensively. "I've worked as hard as anyone here has. I love you, and this is my home."

"Joseph, as well as I know this land that I've worked my whole life, I know your heart. You're too much like your mother. Your destiny lies outside of these fields." The tear that was swelling from his right eye suddenly fell down his flushed cheek, absorbing quickly into the hungry dry earth below.

Struggling, Joseph tried to swallow, feeling the knot in his throat tighten. Words could not find their way out of his mouth, and a terrible realization overcame him. His father was right. For many years now, he had felt that he didn't belong here with his brothers and sisters. He had convinced himself that a large part of his alienation had been due to being the youngest and having a different mother than all of the others. Although feeling partly shunned by his siblings, he had worked hard to try and fit in. The love for his father kept him content enough to do his work and not look beyond the confines of the family farm.

Now, his small and simple world came crashing down around him. From his father's admission, Joseph was for the first time peering into his own heart. He knew at that moment that he could no longer live at the farm, because it was simply not his place anymore. Joseph's love for his father fought hard against this realization. He felt guilty and ashamed that the life of a farmer was no longer good enough for him. Tears began to fall down both of his cheeks, and he turned away from his father, fearing that he would be hurt from the reflection of this truth.

"I've done my best to love every one of my children the same, but ever since you were born, there's always been something special about you Joseph. Emperor knows that I'd give my life for any one of my children, but the only other time I've ever felt quite the same was with your mother."

Hearing his mother mentioned for the second time in the same conversation caused Joseph to turn back to his father. He rarely mentioned Joseph's true mother, even when they were alone. It was as if throughout his upbringing, the mere mentioning of her was too much for his father to bear. Wiping away the tears that were blurring his sight, he carefully studied his father's expression. Darius Vintros was smiling at his son.

"I've done many things that I regret, but being with your mother will never be one of them… nor having you. Just like her, you have greatness in you. You have a shine about you that no one else can match. You have a destiny outside of this small planet, I know it for sure." Darius put one hand on his son's shoulder, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Go out and grab that destiny. Don't be afraid, my love will always be right behind you, urging you on."

Two days later, Joseph left home. His father had tried to give him a large sum of credits, but Joseph refused to take it. He knew well enough that it was almost all that his father had saved over the past twelve seasons. Caring for the welfare and future of his family, he resolved not to take his father's money. Instead, Joseph joined the Planetary Defense Force, and began his new life with nothing but the clothes on his back and the special custom las-pistol his father gave him.

"Hey Storm, wake the frig up and hand me an ammo crate!" yelled a deep voice from somewhere far behind him.

Joseph quickly broke from his reverie, and turned to face the voice.

"Keep your pants on, I'm on it ya' big hairy bastard!" he replied, slightly annoyed to be snapped back to the present so abruptly. Several of the others in the back snickered.

Wind blew through Joseph's short, dark brown hair. Although only six foot tall, Joseph's well-defined muscular build gave him an air of confidence and strength that was constantly at odds with his young face. Even at twenty-two, still young for Imperial standards (especially the privileged few with access to advanced medical technology), he still had the face of a young teenager. Since puberty, Joseph had been teased by others as having a baby face. Once, he grew a goatee in the hopes of seeming older, but never liked the look or feel of it.

Specialist Joseph Vintros reached into the storage compartment in the back of the truck, and carefully lifted out the ammo crate. Using both hands, he gave it to the trooper sitting next to him and observed as it was quickly passed on to the large soldier in the front of the truck bed.

Large would be a huge understatement to describe Larson 'Beef' Briggs. The hefty six-foot seven soldier easily out-weighed, out-muscled, and out-boasted everyone else in the squad. It was only fitting that he carried the squad's hefty las-cannon. The Private First Class lugged the one-hundred pound piece of metal around like it was a small child's toy. With his close cropped blond hair, chiseled jaw, and deep-set blue eyes, Briggs seemed the very definition of a soldier.

"Hey Beef, I don't think you're gonna need that cannon. Colonel says the target area is most likely gonna be indoors. I don't want to be caught inside with you shooting that thing off. You could bring the whole damn building down, you friggin' dumbass!" shouted the man sitting straight across from Joseph.

Amid the surrounding laughter, Joseph carefully studied Corporal Trent Johnson. At only five foot nine inches tall, he was easily dwarfed by the average six foot tall squad member. What he lacked in physical presence, he more than made up for in the manner for which he carried himself, and his ever inspiring nature. The Corporal always loved to joke around with the men, especially Briggs, but was also known as the unofficial psychiatrist or confidant of the squad. Whenever anyone had a problem, Trent would always lend an unbiased ear. It struck Joseph that Trent was destined to great things, whether it was to be a religious leader like the revered Chaplain, or maybe even a hard nosed and inspiring Commissar. Corporal Johnson seemed fated to climb the ranks and excel. Plus, next to Joseph he was the best shot with ranged weaponry.

Overhearing the drumming bass of a man's voice from the front compartment, Joseph's mind quickly jumped to that of the Colonel. Colonel William Thompson Thatch the Third was sitting in the passenger's seat in the front of the truck, surveying the road ahead with a calm gaze. As leader of not only this kill team, he was in charge of the entire 512th's Southbridge regiment. Joseph understood the pressure and responsibility placed on the Colonel in this situation. The regiment's morale and reputation was on the line. This had made the Colonel edgy and dangerous. Joseph made a mental note to be on guard with his own words and actions.

"Hey Storm, man... You okay?" shouted a voice to his right.

Over the course of the last four months, Joseph had become known by the men of his regiment as 'Storm'. On more than a handful of occasions, Joseph had single-handedly rushed the enemy line, miraculously avoiding injury or death. Joseph's crack shot ability combined with his inherent fearlessness had made him somewhat of a small legend in such a short period of time. Saving many of the guardsmen's lives and taking quite a few more of the enemies', he had earned the respect of most of the men, while inevitably drawing the envy and ire of a few.

"Yeah, I'm okay Doc, just collecting my thoughts for the job," Joseph replied solemnly.

Nodding, the squad's medic busied himself with checking and re-organizing his field kit. Thomas Hendricks, appropriately known as 'Doc' to the squad, was a tall and lean dark-skinned man. The gentle natured man had saved the life of most of the men in the squad at one point during their tour. While Joseph had not yet needed his services, he had immediately liked the courageous and honorable man.

"Eh, don't worry Doc. Storm's just scared he won't be able to pull the trigger," interjected the pale and lanky soldier sitting on the right-hand side of Doc.

Joseph's eyes met those of Private Dereje Novo. Joseph made no effort to hide the disdain he felt for the man, and only hoped that his hatred shown through his stare. Novo was a rude and selfish man. It was rumored that he came from a noble family in a far off hive city and was subjugated to the guard because of personal crimes against his family. More than a few times in the past, Dereje had tried to provoke Joseph into an altercation. This time, Joseph was on the edge and ready to bite.

"Back off Novo!" yelled the Corporal. "We've got no time for this crap, and you know it!"

"Hey, I just want to make sure my ass is covered when we're in the thick of it," cooed Dereje. Beside him, several of the soldiers tried to pretend not to hear the exchange, but still stole quick glances at Joseph, awaiting his reply.

"Let's just pray that we don't have to pull any triggers this time around," Joseph said evenly, knowing all too well the inevitable likelihood of bloodshed. Most of the soldiers grunted their agreement and returned their stares to the rolling countryside. "Besides, I seem to remember your trigger not working too well last battle… maybe it's just hard to find targets hiding in the back."

"You son of a bitch!" Novo screamed as he tried to stand up and rush over to where Storm was sitting. Several guardsmen held him back as Joseph sat quietly and smiled at the reaction he had evicted.

"Enough! Both of you! It's time to put your game face on. Remember the mission at hand!" Johnson yelled over the commotion.

Novo sat back down and stewed, eschewing venom in Joseph's direction. Joseph held his gaze, sighed briefly and then returned back to viewing the passing fields.

A general quiet hovered around the squad, leaving only the roar of the transport's engine and the thumping of the shocks from the rough country road. All of them understood the gravity of their mission. Find and eliminate any traitors.

To the squad, nothing seemed graver than hunting down deserters of the Imperial Guard. Nine men from their own regiment had gone absent without official leave and were reported last seen moving in separate groups towards enemy controlled territory. Generally, only conscripted armies that the Guard hastily formed seemed to be plagued with desertion, as Commissars and the stringent discipline of the Guard discouraged such actions. However, the savage war raging though the sector had taken a hard toll on the Guard's men. Most soldiers on Garius IV would reluctantly agree that they were losing the war.

The Colonel had hand-picked this strike squad, using last minute information for a desperate attempt to catch the runners before they could escape. Luckily, the enemy's main army was located about a hundred miles away on a different front, but guerrilla warfare had been reported in the area for the past few weeks.

Most of the squad had served for years with a few of the people they were now hunting. Only Joseph shared a stronger bond with one of the deserters. His best friend had turned his back on him, the Emperor, and the Imperial Guard.

Joseph and Gregor had both joined the PDF on Altariun Prime simultaneously. Friends from childhood, they shared a bond that only the young could truly form. With the strong ties of their youth, and their lives stretched out in front of them, the future seemed infinite in possibilities. They planned to conquer the universe, always being there to watch each other's back.

Due to his incredible performance while in the PDF, Joseph was able to ensure that Gregor was transferred into his squad. Together, they had already fought several battles across three planets. Twice, Gregor had saved his life on the battlefield. Joseph's reckless and impulsive nature was counterbalanced by Gregor's paranoia and carefulness.

With thoughts of the coming confrontation tightening his stomach painfully, Joseph vaguely recalled Gregor acting nervous and not quite himself right before weekend leave. He remembered making a mental note of this behavior, promising himself to ask Gregor about it when he returned. Fate's cruel current deprived Joseph of his chance, perhaps (as he now feared) forever.

----------------------

After slowing somewhat, the truck abruptly turned hard to the left, causing the men in the back to hold onto the safety rails to prevent from being tossed violently. The loud rattling of hard caliber munitions burst out from somewhere to the right of the truck. In the few scant seconds that it took for the transport to stop, Private Stenner, sitting only feet away from Joseph, was already bleeding from several spots on his chest. Stenner dropped his las-gun, and slowly moved his shaking hands in a futile effort to cover the bleeding holes in his abdomen.

The whip-cracking sound of las-fire joined the rattling chorus of the machine guns. Giant holes were being torn in the canopy covering the top of the truck bed, and immediately the soldiers in the back of the stationary transport made for cover, moving fast and low. Briggs grabbed the bleeding man with one hand and pulled him over the side of the truck and to the ground, in the relative safety of the left side of the transport. The Doc quickly opened his field kit and began trying to staunch the bleeding man's wounds.

"Why the hell did we stop?" shouted the Doc, while desperately trying to help the wounded soldier in front of him.

"Damn! The engine block's shot. The truck's as good as a stone now!" replied the driver, scurrying from the front of the vehicle to join the rest of the squad in cover.

"Corporal, report!" boomed the voice of the Colonel as he exited the front cab and joined the rest of the men behind the truck. Shots continued to pepper the air and ground around them.

Timing the rattling of the shots, Joseph quickly stood from a low crouch and spied the area on the other side of the truck. About a hundred feet or so was a large and fairly worn habitat building. It looked to have once served as a barracks for the local militia. Its exterior shone off-white in color, hinting the neglect it has suffered for quite some time. It stretched three stories into the sky, but it was at least two times as wide. Six windows on each floor looked out upon the side facing the stranded troopers, all of them broken and without shades. Several of the third-floor windowsills were being used as vantage points to fire down upon the stranded squad.

"I count two high caliber machine guns on the first floor. I think there are maybe two snipers on the third floor." Corporal Johnson said as he darted quick looks from behind the truck, also surveying the nearby building. The last time he popped out to check, a las-bolt skimmed ominously close to his head, scoring a tiny burn on his right ear.

"Emperor damnit! Make that three snipers!" corrected the Corporal.

Joseph quickly reviewed the situation. The squad was pinned down behind the transport truck, with only what looked like it used to be a small communications shed to the nearby front of their truck. The long abandoned shed stood lopsided, its weather-worn walls resting at a slight tilt. He seriously doubted that the structure would take the kind of punishment that the machine guns would dish out if anyone tried to use it as cover for any length of time. He judged the distance from the shed to be about forty feet, making it closer to the entrance of the hab building than their current position. They were essentially trapped, with only minutes left until the inevitable destruction of their only cover.

Just feet away, the members of the squad watched as Thomas 'Doc' Hendricks lost his latest patient. The sounds of the gunfire seemed to fade into the distance, as the surviving members of the squad paid their last respects to Private Stenner's memory. Joseph had only known the man for three months, but Stenner was a good man and a fine soldier. He closed his eyes and silently vowed that Stenner's death would be avenged. He promised that he would breathe long enough to take the lives of those responsible. Now it was time for action.

"Sir, permission to improvise?" Joseph asked.

Laughing, Corporal Johnson replied "Be my guest, Storm."

"Beef, I need that las-cannon of yours. Aim for the machine gun positioned across the bottom floor. Try to hit something instead of firing and yelling like a friggin simpleton! Corporal, direct as much covering fire as possible so he doesn't get his over-sized ass shot off!" Joseph explained to the huddled men. "Oh, and I'm going to need a couple extra frag grenades." As small laughter broke out among the troubled soldiers Joseph held out his hand, prompting a few of the troopers to pass him their fragmentation grenades.

"Hah, where's my apology? Now who's glad I brought the las-cannon?" Briggs taunted back at Corporal Johnson.

"You're apology… hrm… where did I put that?" Johnson joked, finishing with a crude gesture to his lower body.

"Beef, when you hear the big boom, start shooting," Joseph interrupted. "Just make sure you get them ducking for at least a minute. The rest of you, try to aim for the upper floor windows. I don't want to get shot before I get a chance at these bastards!"

"Alright men, let's give Storm some cover fire. For the Emperor!" yelled Johnson, holding his las-gun above his head for emphasis.

The squad let out a loud grunt of acknowledgement. Once again, Specialist Joseph 'Storm' Vintros was going to rush the enemy in a daring and reckless fashion. Most of the squad had already begun to truly believe that he was invincible, as he had charged at least six enemy positions in the last few months without even a single scratch to show for it.

"Specialist!" yelled the Colonel. "The Emperor protects!"

"He has so far, let's see if he's still watching," replied Joseph, smirking at the wry look left on the Colonel's face.

Grabbing a grenade in each hand, Joseph used his mouth to pull the pin on each one. Looking back one last time, he gave a wink to Briggs, and lobbed the two grenades over the truck towards the building. The first grenade landed about two feet in front of the building, while the other hit the wall and rested neatly against a debris pile lying close to one of the windows. A huge scorching blast erupted as the two grenades went off nearly at the same time. The first one left a scattered circular pattern of cracks and burns against the front wall. The second created a small crater where the debris once lay. Billowing smoke rushed out of the small hole, adding to the already large cloud of dust from the blast. The gunners on the first floor suddenly found their field of view temporarily obscured.

Behind Joseph, the loud report of Brigg's las-cannon came to life. Instantly, the rattling of the machine guns halted. With the brief respite, the rest of the squad began firing on the upper floors, scoring holes along the building's wall and inside of the windowsills. The snipers above ducked as a few well placed shots entered the rooms where they were firing from.

Sprinting out from the cover of the truck, Storm headed towards the small shed. Once close, he hurled himself behind the limited cover of its walls. The machine gunners glimpsed Storm just as he jumped back into cover. Training their weapons on the tiny shack, they began ripping the little building apart. The sheer ferocity of the assault vibrated through Storm's body, momentarily stunning him. He had made it closer to the building in one piece, but soon his only cover would be torn to shreds.

Taking the last grenade from his belt, Storm pulled the pin and stood up. Leaning around the shed, he tossed the grenade at the single doorway to the building. The grenade landed just inside the entrance, disappearing into the dark confines of the room. Not waiting for the ensuing explosion, Storm began running towards the building. As the grenade began to detonate, Storm was able to throw his back against the wall to the right of the doorway. Smoke and plascrete exited beside him, and he could clearly hear sounds of alarm inside. They were human shouts of panic.

For the first time in a long while, Storm said a quick prayer to the Emperor. He prayed that there wasn't a particular person inside. He prayed that when he brought hell and judgment upon his enemies, he wouldn't find the face of a friend. He opened his eyes, un-strapped the las-gun from his shoulder, and switched the gun to full-auto.

"For the Emperor!" he screamed as he entered the dark building. As usual, when falling into the haze of battle, time seemed to slow down for Storm. When he was young, it was a very subtle but strange feeling. As the years progressed, he began to rely more and more on his ability to almost predict where strikes and blows would land. Never giving it much credence or thought, he had honed his body and mind to utilize this fortuitous sense.

Movement to his immediate right caught his attention. Pressing the trigger, he raked the gun across the area, satisfied to see two silhouettes fall to the ground in a heap. Another figure emerged from a room to the left of his position but was quickly dispatched by a blistering round of las-bolts that seemingly autonomously spat out of Storm's las-gun. Smoke began to fill the room, partly from his own weapon, but most of it wafted from the heated machine guns by the windows to his right. The first two enemies to fall were the operators of the heavy caliber weapons; the latter was likely the ammo loader. Storm was able to sneak a peek outside to see his squad making their way to the backdoor. Several members of the squad lagged behind to keep fire directed at the snipers above.

As he walked across to the bodies lying on the floor, a quick wave of relief hit him as he failed to recognize the felled men. Now that his eyes had slowly become accustomed to the gloom, Storm was able to get a better view of the dimly-lit room. The main part of the first floor opened up to a large area, with plascrete flooring covered in dust and scattered debris. Besides the one office behind him and to the left, the layout was widely open, with only six large columns lined in pairs supporting the bulk of the building. Rows of rusted and decrepit bunk bed frames lined up against the wall to his left, hinting at the manpower that once occupied this area. At the other end of the building, he watched as the rest of his squad piled inside, covering each other's movement and signing the all-clear to Storm.

To reach the upper levels, there were two sets of stairs, located on each side of the building. Storm motioned to the squad entering the other side and started his way up the stairs behind him. Normally during urban assaults, they were to enter buildings and floors in fire teams, not usually allowing a soldier to assault a section by himself unless absolutely necessary. Two soldiers had already been killed when they had followed Storm into his now infamous assaults. It seemed that Storm's unique abilities and luck allowed him to survive, allowing him now to work alone when he desired. The Colonel wasn't about to challenge Storm about that on this mission, given its personal nature.

Nodding in acknowledgement, the Corporal signaled his troops on the opposite side of the building to divide into four fire teams, two for each set of stairs. Storm turned around, and slowly ascended the stairs on his left to the second floor. Once at the top of the stairs, he quickly leaned his head from the wall to view the main area of the second floor. Much like the first floor, the second was hallowed out except for the six structural pillars spread across the otherwise open space. Slight movement from beside the pillar closest to him caused Storm to move his head back behind the cover of the wall. Less than a second later, a las-bolt swished by the space where his head had just occupied, followed by the cracking report of the shot echoing throughout the floor.

Knowing that the squad would be appearing from the stairwell on the opposite side of the room, Storm resisted the urge to fire back. Instead, he reached for the vox communication bead on his collar.

"Tango five... I've got incoming fire from the column closest to me, on your 11," he whispered on the communication frequency the squad used. Two taps on the line immediately afterwards served as an acknowledgement. Satisfied, Storm lowered himself back to the floor, half of his body lying at a downward angle on the stairs, and waited.

Two las-shots echoed from somewhere far off in the room. Three more shots seemed to answer back almost instantly, originating closer to Storm's position. Realizing that the enemy was now engaged with his squad on the other side, Storm leaned his head around the bottom corner of the wall. The unknown man that had fired at Storm had moved one pillar away, continuously firing at the opposite side of the large room.

Sudden movement to his right caused Storm to peek further out from behind cover. Another enemy was rushing his position at a panicked run. Closing fast on Storm's location, the sprinting man had not yet spotted him. With practiced ease, Storm swiftly brought his las-gun to bear and fired twice at the moving figure, scoring two direct hits to the chest. Hearing the shots, the man at the pillar turned around just in time to see his comrade falling in a heap. Storm wasted no time, quickly shooting twice more, one shot hitting the figure in the abdomen, the other opening a small yet devastating hole in the middle of his forehead. The body stood erect for a few moments more, the gun falling out of its hands as it finally slid down against the pillar to the cold floor.

Storm lay still for a few moments more, hearing the movement of his squad mates coming towards him. Two taps on the vox told him of the all clear. Storm scanned his immediate surroundings as he slowly climbed to his feet. Novo, Briggs, and the Corporal joined Storm on his side of the room.

"Storm," nodded the Corporal. "The one at the pillar was Jacobson. Other's a John Doe."

Storm nodded in acknowledgement, relieved that he didn't just execute his best friend in the fury of the firefight. Jacobson hadn't been with the regiment long, and he never really took a liking to the man. Besides, it almost seemed he was certain during the fire-fight that the two men were not his friend, but he quickly shrugged the idea off as luck, knowing that in the darkness and fury of battle it was hard to tell who was who most of the time.

"Novo, follow me on the right-hand set of stairs, Briggs, cover Storm on the left. The top floor is nothing but offices and rooms, so be on your watch," warned the Corporal, nodding at Storm and then turning around to move up the stairway. Novo darted a quick smirk at Storm, then followed the Corporal.

"Listen up... We've got a multitude of rooms on the top floor. We've gotta do a room by room search, leave no corner unturned and watch each other's backs. The Emperor protects," the Colonel commanded over the squad's vox.

Storm motioned Briggs to follow him as he quietly ascended the stairs to the third floor. Reaching the last stair, Storm surveyed the layout of the top floor. Six windows on the outside wall allowed just enough light in the hallway so they could see across to the other side where his squad members were now arriving from the opposite stairwell. The hallway spanned all the way down the length of the building, and Storm quickly counted six doorways, with a hallway leading to the front side of the building splitting the rooms in the middle.

Moving just outside the first doorway, Briggs moved into cover position on the other side of Storm. In one swift motion, Storm kicked the door in and rushed into the dark room. The light streaming in from behind them was just enough to make out only a few sparse pieces of furniture, but no movement. Using the search lamp attached to the bottom of his las-gun, Storm swept across the room in a final check. Satisfied, he shook his head at Briggs, and they made their way back out to the hallway.

On the other side of the hall, Storm watched as the other fire team raided the room furthest away. One down, two to go thought Storm, now beginning to believe that he may be spared the duty of confronting Gregor.

The second room was also empty. Broken equipment sparsely covered the area in the back of the room, hinting at the years of neglect. Storm nodded to Briggs, and they moved to search the last room on their side. Sounds of muffled gunfire resounded from the other side of the building.

Briggs quietly made his way into position to enter the next room. Storm started to move around to take cover position. Without warning, the door smashed outwards towards them, as laser fire blasted into Briggs' side. The big man let out a guttural howl as he was thrown against the wall behind him.

"Man down, man down!" Storm exclaimed over the vox. "Tango five, we are taking fire and a man is down!"

From down the hall, Storm suddenly heard several more firefights erupting, with loud bangs shaking the floor. Someone had used frag grenades. Each man was truly on his own now.

Storm put his back to the right of the open entrance, preparing to assault. As soon as the barrage of fire from inside the room stopped, Storm grabbed Briggs by his arm and pulled him out of the fire zone, leaving a small streak of blood. With a bit of relief, Storm noticed that the big man's wounds seemed to be mostly cauterized.

Rounding the corner, Storm turned into the doorway and dropped to one knee in the blink of an eye. Aiming from the shoulder, he trained his las-gun at the nearest silhouette and depressed the trigger. The dark figure tried in vain to dodge the bolt as it screamed across the room at near light speed. Scoring a direct hit to the chest, the figure sprawled backwards, crashing loudly into the debris behind him.

In an instant, Storm's las-gun was forced from his grip by a white hot force, sending it several feet away from his position. He recovered quickly and tumbled left into a head first roll to a nearby piece of furniture large enough to provide him cover. Realizing that his gun was too far away to retrieve, Storm decided not to try for the weapon. He quickly noticed the scorched mark near the top of the barrel. Once again, luck and quick reflexes had saved his life.

Giving a quick look up to send the divine his thanks, Storm pulled out his las-pistol from the holster around his waist. The pearl inlaid handgrip was cold on his bare hand, and once again he was reminded of his father. He could feel the etching of his family crest against his palm, and knew that his father had ended up spending a good amount of his savings for this final present, despite Joseph's adamant objections.

The antique pistol, aside from the new handgrip his father had custom fitted, easily showed its age. However, its previous owner was diligent in its operation and care. It fired unfailingly, and was deadly accurate. The pistol was also quite stronger than its larger counterpart; it shot hotter at the cost of burning its power cell drastically faster. Where a normal pistol could fire up to twenty shots with an average power cell, Storm's handgun would dispense five man-stopping, armor piercing las-bolts.

Hearing movement from in front of him and to the left, Storm popped up from behind the desk he was using as cover and fired immediately at the man standing ten feet in front of him. Caught in the act of reloading his weapon, the man took the las-bolt to his shoulder, spinning him hard and fast to the ground. The gun he was carrying rolled noisily into the corner nearby. Carefully avoiding trash and debris on the ground directly in front of him, Storm moved in for the kill shot.

Lying on the ground, covering the smoking wound on his left shoulder, the man looked Storm straight in the eyes. A nearby light source shadowed half of his face.

"Hello Joseph," Gregor spoke, no surprise evident in his voice.

Chapter 2 – Crossing the Line

"Gregor," Joseph whispered, mostly to himself. Suddenly light-headed, Joseph felt like he was watching himself in a dream. He looked down at his own hand in horror, realizing that he was still pointing his smoking las-pistol at Gregor's head. Involuntarily, his hand slowly lowered itself and he looked back to his friend spread on the floor before him.

"So you're here to kill me?" Gregor kept his eyes transfixed onto Joseph's. "Get it over with then!" his reply full of venom.

Joseph felt his anger rising from within.

"What are... what are you doing here Gregor?" Joseph started, clearing his throat mid-way. "I thought you were smarter than this..."

"When you didn't show up, I figured you were just too scared, or maybe even brainwashed. But now, I see that you just want glory from your precious Guard; even if it means both of our deaths." Gregor stopped, turned his head to the side and spit blood. "I only ever wanted to see the galaxy. I didn't want to die a pawn in someone else's sick game," Gregor spouted defiantly.

"Didn't show up? What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who deserted the Guard. You wanted to be free, so you joined the very power we've fought and bled to defend against?" Joseph reasoned, still feeling the dream-like edge surrounding this whole encounter.

"What? It's not like that... Damnit Joseph! You should know me better than that." A defensive yet hurt tone surrounded his statement.

"Sorry?" Joseph pondered, shaking his head slightly. "I know you better than what? You leave without saying a word, and now you're here shooting at the very men you used to risk your life trying to protect?" Joseph felt a righteous anger fuel his words.

Moving slowly, Gregor used the wall behind him to leverage himself up painfully to his feet.

"We didn't know for sure if the regiment would find us so quickly. We're not aligned with the enemy. We've already had two firefights this morning with them just to get here. Besides, I told you everything in the letter. You did read the letter, didn't you?" Gregor asked, while moving his hand away from his shoulder wound, checking for blood. Trace amounts of it was trickling from his mostly burnt wound.

"What letter? I never got a letter."

"The one I left in your gear. When we all took weekend leave, I got back earlier than you did. I wrote down everything in the letter. Damnit, I risked everything to get us this chance!" Gregor looked down, suddenly lost in deep thought.

"Why? What did it say?"

"Joseph, someone's after you. You've been marked for the Black Ships," Gregor stated, ignoring the original question.

"What are you talking about?"

The Black Ships were the bane of every imperial citizen's existence. Known simply for the large black space ships that were used, those unlucky enough to be marked as heretics and possible psychics were handed over without question, only to have the majority of them exterminated.

"The Black Ships, Joseph. Someone has pegged you dangerous."

"The Black Ships?" Joseph pondered. Recall sharpened in his mind, and one thought came forward. One horrible and devastating thought… the Inquisition.

Seeing the knowing look in Joseph's eyes, Gregor spoke up again. "I was filling out my leave request just a few hours after you already left for yours. I was outside of the office, just a few meters away from the communications room, waiting for Thatch to return. That's when I overheard the communicae. Someone has given your name over to the Inquisition, the Ordos Hereticus. They think you may have carried with you a taint from the enemy." Gregor's voice began to rise in volume as near panic set in his words.

The Inquisition was by far the single most feared institution in the Imperium of Man. Without rival in authority and power, they relentlessly hunt all that threaten man, from without and within. Their unquestioned jurisdiction allowed them to operate without mercy, not leaving a single possibility of threat to chance.

"That makes no sense. Why didn't they detain me when I got back from leave yesterday?" Joseph replied weakly, slowly absorbing the whole situation.

"From what I could hear, they instructed that you were to be watched carefully. But they were adamant about keeping you un-informed. They wanted to bide their time until a transport was available in-system." As Gregor relayed the story to Joseph, his breathing slowly became erratic as his body began to go into shock.

Joseph could only look his friend into his eyes to know that he was telling the unadulterated truth.

"Look, while in the city for leave, I found a rogue trader captain in town that needs two gun-hands. We can use this to start a new life, maybe get away from this war and make a fortune... all of this was in the letter. I was sure you'd check your gear. You always were so damn adamant about that. Where did that letter go? Damnit Storm…"

"Don't call me that, I hate it when you call me that..." Joseph interrupted.

"Stor.... Joseph, listen... there's still a chance we can get out of this. The person on the communication said that it would take up to three days before the ship could arrive. If I can slip out and hide for a bit, when you get back you can meet me in New Gherin. There's a bar called the Angry Anchor in the port area. A captain Vin Holson is our contact. We can start a new life and make a fortune for ourselves. Storm... sorry, Joseph... this is what we always wanted, what we always talked bout." Gregor's words were filled with haste, as outside of the hall the fire teams further in the building were finishing their search.

"I don't know, Gregor... this is crazy." Joseph no longer even believed his own words. "I don't even know how we'll get you out of here…" Joseph was instantly cut short, as a cracking shot rang out from the doorway behind him.

In what seemed like the longest second of Joseph's life, he watched in horror as Gregor's face was twisted violently to the side and exploded into a mist of blood and bone. His best friend's body slumped harshly against the wall and slid down, leaving a red trail of blood and gore.

Joseph turned around and saw Private Dereje Novo standing in the doorway, holding his smoking las-gun in front of him.

"Wha... wha... what did you do?" Joseph demanded, his voice straining to be more than the whisper it was.

"I killed a traitor, Storm," Novo replied flatly. He walked across the room to where Joseph was standing, and stared over the dead body of Gregor. He still had his gun raised, keeping it trained on Joseph.

"Were you actually going to stand there and talk to the traitor all day? No, I bet you were going to help him," Novo spat.

Joseph didn't reply immediately, shock still stalling his mind and slowing his words. "He... he was wounded, I had him under control." Joseph slowly started to regain his composure.

"Don't give me that. I found the letter Joseph." Novo began to smile.

"You went through my gear, you stole from me?" Joseph said accusingly. Joseph felt his grip tightening around the las-pistol at his side.

"Spare me the drama! I saw him put it there, and I saw him looking through the Colonel's office. I know what he was trying to do. I always knew you were dangerous… tainted!" Novo exclaimed, relishing the accusation against Joseph and ending his speech with a devious smile.

Outside the hallway, Joseph could hear footsteps making their way towards the room. Novo's words faded away in his mind, and fury started to overtake him.

"You should have shot me while you had the chance," Joseph whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

"What are…" started Novo.

The brilliant flash of the blast from the las-pistol interrupted Novo, and the utter look of surprise on his face struck Joseph as comical. His rifle went off, exploding into the wall behind Joseph. Due to the extreme close range of the pistol's shot, the las-bolt burnt its way cleanly through Novo's chest and ended its blazing path into the wall behind. Novo fell backwards without a cry, crashing into the broken flooring behind him.

Walking up to the dying man, Joseph spoke as Novo's body began its death spasms, his arms flailing and thrashing about. Joseph stared into the man's eyes, watching as the spark of life slowly extinguished. "You never should have taken that letter."

Joseph blinked slowly, and stared down incredulously at his once again smoking las-pistol. The fury that had clouded his mind, his entire being it had seemed, dissipated and left him in a state of disbelief. Cries of alarm echoed from outside the hallway, and the clatter of footsteps rose in volume.

Re-holstering his las-pistol, Joseph wiped the sweat off of his brow. Stopping his hands in front of his face, he could see how bad they were shaking. He quickly dried his hands with his shirt, and moved towards the door. He stopped after a few steps, and took a final look back at his best friend's corpse.

"I'm sorry Gregor. I'll never forget what you did for me!" he apologized.

Remembering Novo's last words, Joseph looked towards the doorway and saw no movement or shadows yet. He hurried across the room to where Novo was lying. Searching the corpse's jacket pockets, Joseph sighed in relief as a folded note was found in the top right breast pocket, just inches away from the smoldering crater left from the las-shot. He quickly secured the light paper in his own breast pocket, and once again made for the doorway.

Outside of the hab building, the remaining squad members were sitting quietly, waiting for the called-in transport truck already on its way. As Doc was busy patching up two of the soldiers, the Colonel made his way over to where Joseph was sitting alone.

"Colonel," Joseph nodded. "How is he?"

"Doc said Briggs is gonna make it. You know how stubborn the man is," the Colonel joked. "It looks like Harrison will be fine too, although he may need a new arm from the elbow down. Poor bastard took the bad end of a frag grenade." A few moments of silence went by as the sky above rumbled the warning of a weather change. "I'm sorry, Joseph. I know he was your best friend. I know it wasn't easy," the Colonel said quietly.

Joseph looked at the Colonel and nodded, trying to ignore the iron grip his stomach felt clinched in. He purposely kept his hands in his front pockets, hiding the fact that they were shaking from the earlier confrontation. A slow drizzle started to fall from the sky.

About a half hour ago, Corporal Johnson had made his way to the room just as Joseph was about to exit into the hallway. Without words, Johnson had assessed that in the firefight Novo had been shot and died instantly. Gregor and the other unidentified man had been killed in the result of the confrontation. Joseph had said nothing, but just nodded weakly to affirm the Corporal's findings.

Every time Joseph started to think about the ramifications what he had done to Novo, his mind replayed Gregor's fatal shot. Joseph found no remorse for killing one of his own, but knew that he had now crossed a line.

"War does crazy things to a man," Joseph explained. "In the end, all we have is our loyalties." Joseph found himself surprised at his own words. He felt empty and emotionless at this critical time of his life.

"The Emperor protects," the Colonel added, nodding in agreement. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm recommending you for a commendation when we get back. Storm, you're not only our best, but you are truly everything the Guard embodies." The Colonel didn't wait for a reply, but merely placed his hand on Joseph's shoulder, nodded, and walked away.

A small chuckle began to form in the back of Joseph's throat. He had crossed a line, and was about to receive yet another award. The chuckle quickly turned into a strange laugh. Joseph turned his head upwards towards the sky, where rain fell progressively harder onto his face. The Colonel's words still ringing in his head, Joseph suddenly felt sick. The laughter quickly died away, and he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Unsure of who he was or what he was doing anymore, Joseph walked out of sight and vomited.

------------------------------

Joseph exited the debriefing room, rubbing his eyes and fighting down a yawn. The debriefing itself had gone by without confrontation, but Joseph still felt the unease of knowing the truth. Although he detected that the Colonel and the Corporal were holding something back, he still knew that they did not recognize the truth of the final events inside of the hab building just few scant hours before.

All leave had been cancelled for the men on base, prompting all sorts of angry yet controlled outbursts. Fatigue kept Joseph from wondering too much about what may be going down behind the scenes. The blank stare and pained gait of the men passing by him in the hall evoked in Joseph a strong likeness to that of zombies from countless horror stories told by family and friends in his youth. Everything in Joseph's world seemed to be crashing down around him.

The sudden and loud report of a transport returning to the garage outside served to remind him of the war that was still being waged not far from their position. Joseph's regiment had done more than their fair share of fighting in the past month, the men's morale plummeting even further into dangerous levels.

He quickened his step and made for his private bunk. Once he was sure he was alone, he sat on his bed and pulled out the folded note from his breast pocket. Opening the letter, he read the neat hand-written words, so typical of Gregor:

Joseph, I have left the Guard, and I'm making my way to New Gherin, the main port city of this planet. I am to meet with a Captain Vin Holson to discuss terms for us to join his crew. I know you have a thousand questions, but please read the next line carefully. Someone has reported you to the Inquisition. The Black Ships are to arrive in two days.

Joseph noticed the date in the top right-hand corner of the flimsy paper. If what he was reading was true, and Joseph automatically felt inclined to believe every word, tomorrow should mark the arrival of the Inquisitor.

Although he had heard these words from Gregor himself, they still had a shocking quality to them. Joseph read on:

I'm not sure of why you have been singled out, but I over-heard the communiqué myself. They think you have been tainted, or are otherwise a danger to us all. Joseph, when you and I joined the guard, we had dreams of glory and battle. However, these past eight months have opened my eyes to what this universe really has to offer. We have already outlived the life expectancy for the average soldier of the Imperium, and I feel my luck may already run out. We joined together to strike out and achieve our destiny in the stars. We are a long, long way from home. A home that I'm afraid neither of us will ever see again if we stay our course.

I have struck an agreement with this Captain to take both of us on as gun hands. It seems your fame has preceded you, as he has heard your name in passing. This is our one chance for a reprieve. When your father told you to seek out your destiny, he didn't mean for you to die a horrible, meaningless death. I also know of your purity and compassion. Just as I have never doubted you, I won't start now.

I have left ahead of you, feigning to join deserters from our regiment so that I can get to New Gherin using an alternate route, where hopefully I will not be looked for. I hope to see you soon my brother. Comrades forever, Gregor.

The note in front of Joseph began to blur. He used his free hand to absently wipe away the tears that were forming. A battle began to take place in his mind, as the realization of the futility in his current course and the fear of an unknown life took hold. The life his father had tried to push him towards on that hot summer days seemed suddenly lost forever. He closed his eyes as the battle inside him raged further, until he no longer sensed the world around him. With the thousands of thoughts racing through his mind slowly floating away like driftwood down a river stream, Joseph fell asleep.

-----------------------------

"Hey, give it back!" he yelled, as the two much taller boys stood over him laughing. "It's mine!"

"If the baby can get it, the baby can have it!" the older one mocked, holding the wooden toy higher in the air.

It was already the second time this week that they had taken one of his few toys. Joseph had only a few scant possessions, one of the drawbacks of being a child in a large and financially challenged family.

"Hey look, I think he's going to cry!" taunted the other one, as he grabbed the wooden sword and began to toss it back and forth with the older brother.

"Tell you what, if you can take it from us, we'll never touch your baby toys again," explained the eldest brother.

He lowered the toy just within reach of Joseph. Seeing the opportunity (and at the tender age of 9 not understanding the trap laid for him), Joseph grabbed for it. Waiting until the last moment, the older boy spun around and kicked the legs out from under Joseph. Sprawling hard to the ground, he hit with a loud thud that took the breath from his lungs. Stunned and embarrassed, Joseph's eyes began to tear up.

Seeing the tears rolling down their younger brother's cheeks, the two older boys began to laugh even louder.

A sudden calm seized over Joseph, and his demeanor changed. Seeing the change in the young boy, the eldest once again held the toy just within reach.

"Uh oh, looks like he means business now!" he taunted, dangling the edge of the wooden sword near Joseph's face.

Without a word, Joseph kicked his eldest brother on the side of his right knee. The force from the blow buckled the older boy's knee, causing him to fall on his hands and knees in front of Joseph. Grabbing the wooden toy from the stunned boy's hand as he fell, Joseph quickly spun into a round-house kick that caught his brother's chin. The practiced maneuver landed flush, sending the older brother into a roll several feet back.

Joseph's young keen eyes caught the other brother's movement to his left. He quickly turned to meet the new threat head on. A rather large fist was inbound for his head. However, Joseph had no problem at all picking up the threat. He easily dodged the slow moving arm, and was able to move inside his brother's guard. A knee to the stomach brought his brother's head down just enough for Joseph to throw a devastating uppercut, landing squarely on the boy's chin. Like a drunk trying to stand on his feet, his brother took a few staggered steps and collapsed to the ground, no longer laughing.

Suddenly realizing what he had done, Joseph looked at his hands and stood amazed. For too long he had taken their abuse without as much as a push back. This time, something inside him seemed to take over. Fear began forming inside of his mind, as he felt as if he was no longer the same, and that his life would forever change.

Hurried footsteps echoed outside of the barn, and Joseph knew his father had heard the commotion coming from the boys fight. Scared of his father's wrath, Joseph contemplated running. He started for the door on the other side, pulling at the handle to open it. Seemingly stuck, he darted for the side panel that he knew would slide just enough for him to escape into the fields outside.

Just as he was about to make it into freedom, a hand grabbed him from behind.

"Joseph!"

--------------------------------

Joseph awoke violently, finding himself suddenly short of breath. Sweat trickled down his brow and he quickly wiped it away. Not sure of where he was for the moment, he scanned the dark surroundings. With a wave of relief, he saw that the note was still held tightly in his right hand. He folded it up, and put it away inside of his pocket.

Checking his chronometer, he saw that it was roughly eight hours after he had left the debriefing. The barracks were quiet, with the occasional snore breaking the silence in small increments. There was only about forty minutes until the place came alive again. He remembered that they had another set of patrols in a few more hours, and the briefing on their new assignment. Joseph had scant few minutes to make a decision. Somehow he must elude the guards and escape into the city.

Joseph pulled up his gear bag, and grabbed the belt holster from the nearby cabinet. Un-holstering the las-pistol from its compartment, he stared at the family crest engraved into the handles. Flashbacks from the day before broke into his conscious thoughts.

He remembered the fatal shot that had shattered the face of his friend, the long agonizing moment of watching his body fall and rest into a pool of blood. The numbness that had overtaken him at that moment was now replaced by grief; the loss of a friend that he would no longer share the future with.

Joseph's mind then replayed the devastating blast that he himself had created, scoring the large hole in Novo's chest. He tried to feel grief for committing a murder. Remembering the disdain he had already felt for the man and the fact that he taken away over twenty years of friendship, hatred welled up in Joseph's heart.

Joseph had crossed the line and found himself upon a turning point, and he had done so willingly. The deeper he searched inside of himself, the more he knew that what he did was right. He would have gladly done it again.

Joseph had his answer. He was no longer an Imperial Guardsman. Now, his whole life was much more complicated. He wasn't simply a soldier. He wasn't simply a murderer. He wasn't simply the son of a poor hab farmer looking for his place in the universe. He was now the master of his own destiny. But he was also the object of the Imperial Inquisition's interest.

Re-holstering his weapon, Joseph strapped his belt around his waist. Gathering very few of his belongings (which mostly consisted of a couple change of clothes, a picture of his father, and some loose credits), Joseph tossed them quickly into a draw-string bag. His chronometer showed only twenty minutes time for him to make good his escape. If he was quiet and lucky, he could take one of the small jeep transports in the shop and make way for New Gherin while the few men guarding the barracks were on patrol.

For the first time in a long while, Joseph felt fear. Fear of not only the unknown, but the gripping terror that great change brought. This also stirred an excitement into him. Passing through the main hallway where a guard was reading a data-slate, he slipped unnoticed into one of the large open hangars. Finding a suitable transport, Joseph grabbed the labeled decoder key off of the wall.

Pushing the smaller entrance door to the side of the hanger open, he left just enough room for the jeep to have clearance. Checking quickly, he only had ten minutes left to leave without notice. He figured it would take an hour or two for people to notice his absence.

Throwing the jeep into neutral, he pushed it as quietly as possible, fearing that the engine starting would stir trouble. His natural strength helped it move with ease, as he finally cleared the doorway into the cold dark morning. Carefully closing the entrance behind him, Joseph pushed the jeep a minute or two more. Satisfied that the engine noise would be minimal at this range, he inserted the decoder key, and the jeep hummed to life.

Looking back one last time, Joseph quietly said goodbye to the friends and bonds he had made. Far off in the distance, a couple of troopers were repairing some of the targeting drones in the field, but their attention was not in Joseph's direction. Turning back to the road ahead, he depressed the throttle and started towards New Gherin. He started towards his new life.

Chapter 3 – The Captain

The nine-hour drive to the port city of New Gherin was pretty much un-eventful. The monotonous jolting from the poorly maintained road was only broken a couple of times. Twice, an Imperial speeder had hovered by above the roadway, and each time Joseph had breathed a sigh of relief when the regimental standard on the side was not that of his own.

It was now well into the afternoon, where the sun shone its brightest and hottest. The wind from the open-topped jeep had kept him relatively cool during the morning ride, but now it was no longer adequate to stop Joseph from perspiring.

Stopping briefly to speak with a disheveled man who looked like a local, Joseph was able to find out exactly where the port district of the city was located. Once confident with the given directions, he returned to the road and found himself near his destination within ten minutes. No longer wishing to chance being discovered by the authorities, he stopped about a mile away from the cluster of bars and dilapidated buildings by the docks. Parking behind two large transport containers, he grabbed his gear and started for the docks.

The city around him was bustling with life. Scores of pedestrians and road traffic polluted the city with a roaring ambience. Joseph wouldn't have a hard time at all blending in with the large crowd moving through the streets. Plenty of off-duty guardsmen, some still in their fatigues, strode about the street, moving from bar to bar. Vendors and street performers held captive the people caught strolling by their places on the sidewalk. Joseph had a passing memory of the circus he'd visited a couple of times during childhood on his home planet. Smiling briefly at the fond memory, Joseph hoisted his draw-string bag behind his back and continued his short walk towards the docks.

The docks were a conglomeration of both traditional sea transport locations and star-dock pads. The busiest section of the planet, the docks served as both the local and off-planet traveling hot-spot. As such, multitudes of bars and clubs lined the streets opposite of the port. Because of its huge economic earnings, the Guard was desperately fighting off the Chaos horde to protect New Gherin, as well as it's main political city of Pasius. It was vital for not only the planet, but the very system.

Once on the main strip of the docks, Joseph quickly found what he was looking for. Sitting between a burned out building and the Sinking Clam, stood the desolate and beaten-down Angry Anchor. The red neon lights were near the end of their life, as half of the letters blinked on and off rapidly. Despite its appearance, however, people were streaming in and out of the place. Most of the bars in the area usually doubled as a hospice on the upper floors, providing rooms barely able to accommodate more than a single bed and a small nightstand.

Standing directly in front of the Angry Anchor, Joseph double-checked Gregor's letter. It seemed without a doubt that the run down building in front of him was where his future awaited. The Captain would be found here. Neatly folding the letter and placing it back into his pocket, he started for the door. The pulsing beat from the loud music inside had already started to replace the noise of the city behind him as he stood in line to enter the busy bar. After a brief stare and subsequent nod of the head from the door man, Joseph found himself inside.

The Angry Anchor was surprisingly bigger in the interior than its outside appearance would hint at. A large open area directly in front of him served as a dance floor, filled with drunken patrons moving and thrashing to the pumping beats that the vox speakers blasted. Encircling the entire outside portion of the dance floor was the bar area where multitudes of people were sitting on the stools drinking and mingling with each other. There were easily thousands of people in the place.

The crowd itself seemed a mix of just about every type of person Joseph had seen in a city. Several spots were taken by gang members… off-worlders were making deals in the smoky corner by the windows facing the water… and local dock workers were found sitting at several tables by the women dancing on poles. Off duty guardsmen were found all over, drinking, gambling, and trying to pick up the local pleasure girls. As far as anyone knew, Joseph was just another guardsmen looking to kick back and relax.

"What'll it be?" asked a large heavily tattooed bartender as Joseph approached a stool.

"Just give me a shot of Dragonfire," Joseph answered back.

Grabbing two bottles from beneath the tabletop, the bartender poured a measure of each into a shot glass and handed it to Joseph. Nodding to the bartender, he grabbed the glass and swallowed the thick spicy drink. The familiar burning sensation from his favorite drink warmed his belly. He ordered a locally brewed beer and threw a few imperial coins on the counter.

"I'm looking for someone," Joseph notified the bartender. The burly tattooed man didn't respond, but merely raised his eyebrows in question. "He's an off-worlder, a rogue-trader."

"We get a lot of those around here, in case you can't see for yourself," the man replied, starting to walk away.

Joseph grabbed the man's arm and looked him straight in the eye. "His name's Vin Holson." The man shook the hand off of his large arm, his lips pursing together as he turned again to face Joseph.

"So you're the merc he's been waiting for?" he half-asked, slowly nodding his head.

"I am. Tell the captain I'll be waiting over at that table by the window there," Joseph responded, leaving his seat and relocating to the table nearby.

The pulsating beat echoing through the establishment changed slightly, as a new song vibrated the entire area. Some of the crowd on the dance floor moved harder, showing their appreciation to a familiar tune. Joseph slowly nursed his beer as the minutes went by.

A man on the other side of the room seemed to take a sudden interest in Joseph. He caught the man's stare a couple of times, and began to stiffen up. Slowly, Joseph readied his hold-out pistol in the back of his belt.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? This is a killing machine? Looks more like a lost farm boy if you ask me." A large man, looking to be in his early forties sat down the seat opposite of Joseph, his lips forming a cocky smile. His long silvery hair was tied back into a ponytail behind him. His dark brown eyes were deep-set into their sockets, automatically giving the man a shady demeanor. He wore a long black cerise jacket, through which Joseph could easily tell the man carried a holster and gun inside of. Another man, heavily augmented on his face, sat beside him.

"Who…" Joseph started.

"The name's Captain Yrius Vin Holson, my boy," he interrupted. "And this is my number one, Adrium Strom." The man next to him nodded slightly, his metal implants shining as the light above the table glimmered off of them. "You must be…"

"Joseph Vintros… and I am not your boy," he stated with disgust.

"Well, Joseph, it seems that you and I have some business to discuss. Where is the gentleman whom arranged this meeting? Did he find a better offer, my boy?" The captain replied jovially as if oblivious to Joseph's clear and rising frustration.

"It's Joseph, and no, he didn't find a better offer. He's dead," Joseph said with a dry and serious demeanor.

"Oh," the Captain simply stated. Leaning back in his chair he signaled a waitress nearby.

Seemingly unaffected, the Captain continued "So you're looking for a way off-planet? I can accommodate, but for a price."

"I heard, you need a gun-hand. I'm good with a gun. So I'll help you for a week or two and then we part." Joseph ordered another local brew and turned his attention back to the Captain.

A hearty laugh erupted from Vin Holson. The metallic man sitting on the side exchanged a nervous smile between the two men.

"A week or two? Now you've got to be pulling my chain, my boy. We're talking at least six months, if I'm feeling charitable, and if you're good enough with that gun." The Captain pointed to the holster around Joseph's waist.

"For the last friggin time, I'm not your 'boy'. And it's a month at the most. I don't think you understand…"

"Now listen to me boy," the Captain started, the jovial tone falling quickly out of his voice, "It's you who does not seem to understand."

Joseph promptly glanced outside of the nearest window as a local Arbites patrol cruised by. Quickly placing his hand to cover his face, he turned his body mostly towards the inside of the bar. The Captain, noticing his body language and motion, raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Exactly the point, my boy." Vin Holson spoke, emphasizing the last part. "You reek of trouble, and not just the local kind. You haven't been released from the Guard, have you?"

Joseph, once again checking out the window to see the patrol now gone, faced the Captain.

"You knew the situation when you talked to my friend. I don't believe you to be that naïve."

"I might have, but the point is still there. You're lucky I'm even considering taking you on, my boy. Six months, maybe less if you prove yourself extra valuable."

Struggling to hold back his anger, Joseph downed the rest of his beer and stood up. The chair behind him swung back violently and loudly crashed to the floor.

"I think I've made a mistake, this meeting is over."

The crowd nearby focused their attention on the scene Joseph was making.

"It was a pleasure doing business, please refer your friends." Captain Vin Holson replied in a pleasant manner. Snickers from the crowd around them erupted as Joseph left the table and headed for the front exit. "I'll be here if you change your mind." The Captain exchanged a knowing look with his number one.

Pushing through the crowd of people, Joseph made his way towards the door.

Once outside of the dingy bar, Joseph took a brief second to breathe in slowly the cool sea air. He slowly calmed himself from the earlier confrontation with the extremely arrogant Captain. He had made a mistake to try and trust a rogue trader captain, but Joseph still knew there was no going back now. He looked around at one of the close by sea transports. If he could get passage to the main city of Pasius, he could arrange off-planet travel there under an assumed identity.

After speaking with three of the docks local sea transport captains, Joseph found one that didn't require logged travel and took imperial coins without question. He paid for a one-way trip to Pasius and was told the boat would leave in about an hour.

Finding a quiet spot underneath the docks (and appropriately out of sight), Joseph sat down on the hard damp rock. He set his gear bag down and used it as a pillow. Adjusting his chronometer to wake him in fifty minutes, he lay down and tried to catch a quick nap.

In a sudden violent jolt, Joseph awoke underneath the wooden planks of the docks. His back protesting from the harsh bed of rock, he slowly regained his sense of awareness and checked his chronometer. He had five minutes before his alarm was set to wake him. Stretching to a big yawn, he dusted off his pants and stood up. Gathering his gear bag and shouldering it, he started his short walk to the ship that should be shortly ready to embark.

Twenty feet from his destination, Joseph stopped dead in his tracks. The Captain of the ship with whom he'd arranged transport with was speaking to Corporal Trent Johnson. Flanking the Corporal on each side was a guardsman, but with their backs to Joseph he didn't recognize the men. Thoughts raced through his mind as he ducked behind a stack of crates nearby.

The men talked for about a minute or two, then Joseph noticed the ship Captain pointing to his ship and watched as the Corporal nodded. Beckoning the two soldiers beside him, they walked towards the ship and boarded. Absently wiping the sweat that started trickling down his brow, Joseph thanked his luck that he had awoken early and had a chance to witness this startling scene. Five minutes later, and he would have been ambushed.

"There's no such thing as luck, my son." Darius Vintros's voice echoed from his past. "Fate will reveal to you the way, and sometimes it sweeps you along without warning, and without choice."

How did they find him? He had been careful to watch for any signs of being followed, and he had spoken to no one. With a buzzing sense of dread churning in his stomach, Joseph realized that the jeep must have had a tracking device on it. In his haste to leave he had forgotten that very simple fact. Now he had to watch every step.

After carefully sneaking his way back to the main strip of bars, Joseph reluctantly had to admit to himself that going back into the Angry Anchor was his best choice. The large crowd would allow him to blend into the background until he could find another shipmaster to get off-planet quickly.

The door bouncer merely nodded to Joseph and let out a short grunt, letting him pass inside without question. Time was now a factor that worried Joseph. He needed to find a shipmaster fast.

Music still blaring, and the dancers on the floor still grinding to a similar beat, Joseph milled his way through the crowd back over to the bar near the rear. A different and larger bartender listened for his order.

"I'll have a beer." Joseph flipped a coin onto the bar. "Where can a man find passage off-planet?" He took out four more golden coins and handed them directly to the large man.

The man said nothing as he took the pieces of imperial currency and placed them in his pocket. He reached underneath the bar and slammed a cold bottle of beer in front of Joseph. Eyeing him briefly, he finally spoke.

"You'd be wanting to deal with some Rogue Traders, aye?"

Joseph showed his assent with a nod of his head.

"Dangerous sort, they are. Not for the easy folk," the bartender spoke in his thick local accent.

"Don't fret, I'm not easy. I'm looking for some work, and travel off-planet."

"And just how soon you be lookin' to go?" the large man folded his arms and leaned on the bar top.

"The sooner, the better. I've had enough of this planet," Joseph lied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

The burly bartender let loose a haughty, wet laugh. It sounded to Joseph more like the cough of a dying man. "Borge will set you up. You just wait at table in corner there." He pointed to Joseph's right hand side where a table sat with two unoccupied chairs. Nodding briefly, Joseph grabbed his beer and walked to the corner, sitting in the chair against the wall. Taking a small nervous sip of his beer, Joseph viewed the entire scene in front of him and waited.

Five of the longest minutes in his life went by as Joseph sat impatiently staring at the main floor area of the crowded bar. Joseph knew that pretty soon a search party would enter the bar. It was only a matter of mere minutes.

Scanning carefully around him, Joseph made a mental note of all the exits nearby. Most of them were obstructed and a couple even blocked by various patrons standing around. The few options left for a quick egress left Joseph feeling on edge.

Trying to be as subtle as possible, he reached inside of the bag underneath the table. Grabbing the smaller and much less powerful hold-out pistol he had inside, Joseph quickly tucked the metal object underneath his shirt and trapped it in the lining of his belt. If there was to be trouble, a shot or two might buy him just enough time to leave.

The sudden jolt of a beer mug crashing down on the table top caused Joseph to jump back a bit in his chair. Taking a seat almost at once, the man whose beer had almost caused Joseph to pull out his sidearm, smiled and stuck out his hand.

"Captain John Fraskin, at your service," the disheveled man spoke.

Looking around in confusion, Joseph reluctantly took the dirty hand proffered across the table. Absently wiping away the excess moisture and grime from his hand, Joseph surveyed the so called 'Captain'. His somewhat plain yet ragged clothing gave no hint or clue as to whether the man was an off-worlder or native. Now that the breeze from the air coolers inside of the bar was blowing his way, Joseph was able to nose the man sitting several feet from him.

Not waiting for Joseph's reply, the man continued. "I hear you're looking for a crew to join. I hear you're in a hurry, too."

"Time stops for no one, stranger," Joseph replied, still wary and unsure if this man truly had a ship and crew to represent.

A hearty and almost comical laughter erupted from the man. "Aye, the old bastard despises us all. You need a ship, and I need another gun hand. And it just so happens we leave tonight."

Movement from the front of the room caught Joseph's eye. Three men dressed in brown-green fatigues had just entered the main entry-way. Two of them broke off and started addressing the bartenders nearby.

"Tonight may not be good enough. I need to leave now… or at least get out of eye-sight," Joseph told the man, leaning lower to the table and looking at him directly in the eye.

"That hot, huh?"

"Scorching," Joseph replied flatly.

"Ok, if you can get to port 24 on the star side of the docks, you'll see my ship. She's the Armigosa. We'll discuss terms there." The Captain spoke in a much quieter tone, all humor leaving his voice.

One of the bartenders in the far right hand corner pointed in Joseph's general direction. The men in fatigues nodded and started towards the back of the bar.

"Port 24, star side. Don't be long," Joseph affirmed.

"Go. I'll be there in under an hour." The dirty Captain rose and started to walk away from the table. Stopping in his tracks, he reversed, grabbed his almost forgotten beer, and winked at Joseph before walking away.

Grabbing his bag, Joseph downed what was left the bitter local beer he had been nursing and started towards the back exit. He had almost made it to the door when a tall and burly man stepped into his path.

"Stand somewhere else, friend," Joseph said in a not too friendly tone.

"I'm not your friend, little man," the giant replied.

Always ready for trouble, Joseph readied himself for a fight. He shifted his bodyweight ever so slightly and expected the brawl to start at any moment.

"It looks as if you've found your way off-planet, my boy," came a voice from behind Joseph. Nearly jumping out of his skin, he turned slightly to see Captain Yrius Vin Holson standing a few feet to his right side.

"What is this?" asked Joseph.

With a slight wave of his hand, the Captain signaled to the large man blocking Joseph's way. The big man grunted and left.

"Don't worry about Kuro. He's just anxious to fight since things have been relatively quiet," Vin Holson replied as he stood opposite of Joseph.

"What do you want? I'm in a bit of a hurry, and I thought we understood each other," Joseph said impatiently.

Looking around Joseph's shoulders and seeing the military men in the fatigues searching the crowd, the Captain merely smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I can see that. Your friends seem to be quite intent on finding you, my boy. I guess that's why you're so hasty to find transport. So hasty that you'd take up with that twit, Friskin."

"It's Fraskin. And yes, I am in a hurry. But at least he's not annoying and arrogant," Joseph stated.

"No, but when one fails to find the time to bathe properly, twit is quite appropriate. And if you think he's in bad shape, wait until you see the crap of a ship he calls home," Vin Holson replied, whistling at the end to add emphasis.

"Look, I don't have time for this. Pardon me if I don't say goodbye," Joseph said and tried to urgently push his way past the captain.

With surprising strength, the captain grabbed Joseph by his upper arm and held him in place.

"I only warn you because this 'captain', this 'twit', is the type of man who'd sell his own mother if the price was right. You go to that ship, and you might as well walk to the gallows yourself. That's what they do to a Guard deserter, don't they?"

Caught by surprise and suddenly overwhelmed with fear, Joseph pulled his hold-out pistol and pointed it at the captain.

"Back off, I'm taking my leave," Joseph said in an uneven whisper.

Calmly taking a step aside and raising his hands slightly in the air, the Captain let Joseph past him.

"Just take a good look before you board that ship. Be a shame for you to give up so easily. It's not what Gregor would want," the Captain called after him.

Ridden with fear, confusion, and a strong dose of adrenalin, Joseph barged out of the exit door and ran off to the relative safety of the crowds bustling by the docks. He turned back only once to see the Captain standing near the exit door inside. Captain Yrius Vin Holson waved briefly and shut the door.

----------------------------

Hearing voices down the narrow corridor of the docking tunnel, Joseph quickly slid behind a stack of nearby crates. He had made good time getting to the port, never slowing from a brisk walk. So far, he had seen no signs of the Guard or the local authorities. Now that he was almost there, it was time to take every precaution necessary.

After a brief conversation, two mechanics who had been talking at the far end of the tunnel split up and walked away in different directions. Now clear of people, Joseph made his way to the end of the tunnel and walked into the vast open space that served as port 24's spaceship dock. Several large and unimpressive merchant class ships and a couple small rogue trader vessels sat dormant on the landing pads in front of him. On the furthest landing pad to his right stood a small and weathered ship. Without even looking at the vessel's name, he could tell it was definitely Fraskin's ship.

Most of the workers and mechanics were too busy to even notice Joseph as he walked towards the small vessel at the back of the port. Joseph eyed them carefully to make sure he wasn't being watched or followed. He was only twenty feet away from freedom.

Suddenly, Joseph stopped dead in his tracks. The five guns trained on him may have given him pause, but it was the stern face of Corporal Trent Johnson that froze him.

Chapter 4 – Escape

"Joseph, it's okay. Just drop the bag on your shoulder and stay calm. We're here to help you," Johnson spoke.

Joseph recognized two of the men with him as privates from another squad. The other two, guessing mainly from their uniforms, were local police. Joseph let his bag fall over his shoulder and onto the ground behind him. He lowered his hands to his side and kept his gaze on the Corporal.

After nothing was said for a few moments, Johnson broke the silence. "Look, its okay. The Colonel figures the stress from the last operation, coupled with your friend's death is enough to push anyone to the limit. We're here to escort you back safely, with no charges or problems." Johnson stressed the last part by raising his weapon, turning the safety back on, and holstering the pistol back into his belt.

"And your friends… are they here for my benefit?" Joseph queried, pointing to the nervous guardsmen with the shaking gun pointed at him.

Johnson put his hand on top of the nervous man's trembling gun, and slowly pushed it down.

"It's okay gentlemen, we're here to talk." Johnson motioned and the men behind him lowered their weapons. "Joseph, listen… I'm not here to judge you or figure out why you left. Let's just head back to base and talk about your concerns. Emperor knows you've been through a lot in the past few days."

Joseph's mind began racing. He wasn't sure how much Johnson knew, or what his real intentions were. He had always liked the man, and was pretty sure even in this moment that he couldn't kill him, but Joseph knew better than to think everything would be okay if he went back with them. He had to get out of the hangar, but even moving a foot or two while he was out in the open was suicide. He tried to relax his body a little bit, and perhaps show them that he was at least thinking of giving himself up.

"That's it," Johnson said encouragingly, "you won't face any disciplinary action, but we just want you to talk to someone back at HQ, you know, to see what it is you are dealing with inside."

Joseph hesitated and then took a step forward. "You mean someone from the Ordos Hereticus?" he braved the question.

One of Johnson's entourage, the nervous man who the Corporal had to steady before, raised his gun again in a threatening pose. The others followed suit, leaving only Johnson and Joseph disarmed.

"Wha…What?" Johnson stammered. "I don't know what has you so paranoid, but please be reasonable Joseph!"

The guilty tone of Johnson's voice gave away his growing desperation. Joseph once again braced himself for the inevitable confrontation. Seeing the change in his posture, Johnson once again put his hand on his pistol, but restrained from drawing it up.

"We can leave here peacefully, and everyone wins," Johnson began, "no one has accused you of anything Joseph, so you're not in trouble if you just come to your senses and stop this now!" Johnson was somehow able to muster a calm and re-assuring tone to underlie his words.

"So the Ordos has no interest in me? How long have we fought together Trent? How many times have I saved your life?"

Rubbing his brow in frustration, Johnson waited a few moments before replying. "Four times, but I'm not counting the counterattack on Jhentar Prime. That one was luck. Damnit, Joseph. Look, I really don't know what the Ordos wants, but given that you're not in custody or dead, it can't be all that bad. From what I've heard, I think it's just your extraordinary combat performance that has brought attention to you." The men behind him shuffled uneasily.

"I appreciate your honesty, Trent, I do. But with the war that's going on, and the incredible amount of work that the Inquisition must have in this sector, I don't think I can take this lightly. They don't send a black ship and an inquisitor for an interview. I just won't take a chance on rumors."

Johnson's face began to flush red with anger. "I've been ordered to bring you back, with or without your cooperation." He turned his head to the side and motioned two of the men behind him.

"Joseph Vintros, by the powers granted to me by the Imperial Guard of mankind, I am placing you under arrest." Johnson raised his voice in a commanding tone. He quickly lowered it to a whisper, "Don't make this harder than it has to be Joseph."

Joseph stood still as the two men neared. Grabbing wrist restraints, the guardsman on his right holstered his weapon and began to go for Joseph's arm. Before the man could even look down to clamp his wrist, Joseph swung around behind him and put his arm around the guardsman's neck. Pulling the hold-out pistol from his belt, he pointed it at the man's head and slowly started backing away.

"I'm sorry, Trent. I'm leaving now," Joseph said plainly, watching as the men in front of him aimed their weapons high. "Now put your weapons down, and no one dies!"

"I can't allow that, Joseph. Let him go and I promise you'll be treated fairly."

Seeing the impasse on Johnson's face, Joseph knew he had scarce little time. The jumpy guardsmen behind him were already searching for a shot. He started backing up, making his way towards a stack of supply crates that were behind him and to the right. Spying only with his peripheral vision, Joseph stopped when they were a small distance away and directly to his right. The Corporal and his men carefully followed, still keeping a good amount of space between them.

"We'll have every exit from here blocked in a matter of minutes. There's no hope of escape."

Joseph ignored his words. Nothing seemed impossible anymore; no matter how many times he was told what he had done in the past seemed unfeasible. Risking a quick glance behind him, Joseph unintentionally gave away his plan of action to the armed men in front of him. A guardsman behind the Corporal opened fire. A las-bolt slammed into the chest of the man that Joseph was holding. In one smooth motion, Joseph let go of the wounded man and threw himself blindly to the right to try and find the only cover nearby. Joseph heard the shots all around him, half expecting to feel the searing pain of a las-shot somewhere on his back. Instead, he heard the sounds of crates and debris scattering on the ground near where he was standing only moments before. Somehow, the crates had blocked several shots and allowed Joseph enough time to get clear. Joseph heard the Corporal over increasing gun-fire.

"Cease fire!" Johnson yelled.

The guardsmen, already on edge and anxious facing off against a regimental hero continued to fire recklessly. They began to move forward to get Joseph back into their field of view. Johnson tried grabbing one of the men in a last ditch attempt to salvage the situation.

Instantly jumping to his feet, Joseph surveyed his escape options. Several large spaceships were docked only twenty or so feet away, giving him cover if he dashed for them now. Before he could make a move, a guardsman came around the large stack of crates and began firing. Reacting in a flash, Joseph raised his pistol and shot the man directly in the heart. Spinning wildly, the soldier landed in a heap next to the body Joseph had used as a human shield, both contributing to the spreading crimson pool of blood on the floor.

Before another could pop around the corner and likely kill him, Joseph fired twice blindly in their direction and dashed madly for the closest ship. Its bulky hull and large landing gear would provide excellent cover for him. Several shots followed his path, but none came close enough as he threw himself under the worn grey ship, rolling hard to the other side. Ten tons of metal now separated the soldiers and Johnson from Joseph.

"Storm! Storm! We can still fix this. They fired without my orders! Give yourself up now, or there will be nothing I can do to help you!" Johnson yelled from the other side of the ship, anxiety laden in his voice.

"No chance, Trent! I've already killed one of your men, there's no turning back now!" he replied, cold and calculating.

"With your service record and my testimony that you were acting in self defense, we can get through this!"

"Even if we worked it out, I would still be handed over to the Ordos afterwards! Sorry Trent, this is how it has to be!" Joseph yelled back, spying a glance around the landing gear of the ship covering him.

Las-bolts screamed near his location as several more guardsmen joined the fight from Johnson's direction. They began to spread out across the area in a move to flank Joseph. Recognizing the tactic, Joseph broke cover and fired at the nearest men.

"Son of a bitch! Damnit Storm, I was trying to help you! Now there's little I can do!" Johnson screamed in frustration as he watched Joseph shoot another of his security detail.

As Joseph dove into the cover of another ship, he hurriedly changed the clip of his small pistol. He had hit the guardsman nearest to Johnson as he had dashed away from their flanking maneuver. Although he had struck the man high in the chest, Joseph doubted that he had killed him, due to the fact that his hold-out pistol was really only for close range engagements and had little stopping power. In response, a monstrous hail of las-fire peppered the area around him. The metal of the ship's landing gear began to melt as several shots struck its iron footing. Joseph could hear several more footsteps joined the Corporal's position as backup joined against him.

Swiftly eyeing the number of assailants, Joseph counted four men besides Johnson. Quickly drawing from behind cover, Joseph shot a man to his right in the shoulder. Dropping his weapon instantly, the man grabbed his bleeding wound and collapsed to the ground. Three left.

As their fire became increasingly concentrated, Joseph knew it would be difficult if not impossible to prevent from killing them. He had been able to pick his shots up until now, but if he was to live, he would have to fire in haste. Hating the idea that more lives would have to end before he could be free, Joseph concentrated his will on the singular task of escaping alive.

Snapping two quick blind shots, he assessed the cover around him. Even though he knew the metal landing gear would not melt entirely, he also was smart enough to realize that they would eventually surround him with their numbers and catch him in a cross-fire.

Daring another attempt to even the odds, Joseph aimed and shot another man who was trying to run behind the body of a nearby ship. Caught in the upper back, the man collapsed immediately and fell face first on the ground. A screaming flash of light caught Joseph near his right eye, absorbing into the metal of the landing gear just inches from his face. A spark singed his right eyebrow and Joseph cursed aloud as he ducked back behind the gear.

"Nice shot, Trent," Joseph yelled, "but your sight's off a bit. Try a little more to the left!"

Joseph waited as his taunt remained unanswered. In the background, he could hear Johnson barking orders to the two remaining guardsmen.

Pressing his small advantage, Joseph burst from cover and fired as he ran at the two guardsmen who were trying to position themselves closer to Joseph. Taking the first shot from the hip, it hit the guardsman on his right in the throat, causing the man to gasp loudly as blood spurted several feet in front of him. The second shot was much more merciful as Joseph was able to aim it from shoulder height and hit the second man square between the eyes. The two men fell to the ground where they stood, with small gasps still emanating from the poor bastard Joseph shot in the neck.

As Joseph had just finished the second shot, Corporal Trent Johnson saw his opportunity and fired at the man running towards him. Diving at the last second, the bolt of light barely missed Joseph's head as he finished the lunge into a roll. Coming up a foot away from Johnson, Joseph grabbed the rifle in one swift move and threw it to the side, well away from the two men.

"It's over. I'm leaving. You'll do your duty and report what happened here," Joseph said, holding his pistol up to the Corporal's head. "I'm sorry, Trent, but this is how it has to be."

"This isn't over. They'll follow you. They'll hunt you down and make an example out of you." Trent's words sounded oddly sympathetic to Joseph.

"That's a chance I'm going to have to take," explained Joseph, slightly lowering his pistol. Keeping an eye trained on Johnson, he walked about ten feet away to where his bag had been thrown down earlier. Hoisting it over his shoulder, he made ready to leave the hangar.

From the corner of his eye, Joseph noticed movement far off behind Corporal Johnson. A second later, shouting began as the men saw Joseph next to the Corporal. Glimpsing the opportunity, Trent rushed Joseph and was able to get a hand on the pistol. Struggling briskly, the two men wrestled until the pistol was free and fell to the ground. Before Johnson could reach down to grab it, Joseph kicked him in the midsection, sending the man sprawling backwards and hard to the floor.

Las fire began streaking in their direction. As Joseph reached down to grab his pistol, a lucky shot struck his hold out weapon and sent pieces of it sprawling in different directions. Only feet away, Joseph saw the rifle Johnson had been firing lying on the ground. Darting quickly to the weapon, Joseph rolled onto the floor and neatly scooped it into his hands as he came up onto one knee. Firing several warning shots at the charging men, he was able to falter their advance and send them searching for hard cover.

With the brief respite, Joseph grabbed his gear and took off running once again towards the east exit of the facilities. Dodging his way through crates and various ship parts, he saw the exit doors free and clear of any obstacles. Sprinting towards them, he was tackled sideways as a blur struck him from his left side. Rolling on the cold floor with pain shooting through his right side, he saw Johnson beside him on the ground with an utter look of determination on his face.

"I can't let you leave!" he spat, blood from his nose streaming down his face from the violent collision.

"I'm sorry Trent, but this isn't up to you." Joseph grabbed the rifle lying beside him, pointed it at Johnson as he slowly climbed to his feet. White flashes of pain originating from his side almost blinded his vision as he rose.

"You're just going to have to shoot me Joseph!"

Johnson sprung from the floor and tried to once again tackle Joseph. Having full view of his assailant, Joseph was able to dodge Johnson's charge and move to the side. Not missing entirely, Johnson was able to grab a hold of Joseph's arm and tried to prevent his momentum from carrying him to the floor. Bracing himself, Joseph was able to stay on his feet as the Corporal fell to his knees beside Joseph, still clinging onto his arm.

Before either of the two men could act, a bolt of light from behind Johnson struck him in the back of the head. Joseph felt the flash of heat go past his arm as the man kneeling in front of him went limp and collapsed to the ground. The horrid smell of burnt human flesh rose into Joseph's nose as droplets of boiling blood began to cool on his sleeve. Caught in total surprise, Joseph ignored three other las-bolts that just barely missed hitting him as well.

The trooper in the background raised his rifle again to fire, but this time he wasn't un-opposed. Joseph raised his arm and pulled the trigger three times. The first two shots hit the man in each of his shoulders, causing his body to flail back and forth as his rifle was flung into the air. The final shot disappeared high in his forehead, driving him backwards and hard onto the ground.

Another guardsman ran into view and looked down briefly at the dead soldier. Glancing upwards, he saw the frightful mask of hatred on Joseph's face and instinctively dove towards a pile of metal crates. His body in mid-air, Joseph was able to track and fire several shots into his side. The guardsman continued on his path to the ground, sliding lifelessly across the floor and leaving a trail of blood from his wounds.

Multiple cries of alarm rose in the air, snapping Joseph from his dream like state. Realizing that many more men were coming his way, he grabbed his bag on the ground and turned towards the exit, busting through the doors. Remembering the shot that had hit Johnson, he almost faltered at the top of the steps leading to the ground outside. The hissing sound of las-bolts and the ping of hard rounds ricocheted against the doorway, dissuading him from going back to check on his former Corporal and friend.

"I'm sorry, Trent. It wasn't supposed to end like this…" he said in a whisper, regret in his voice.

Rushing down the stairs, he ran into the nearby street which was already bustling with activity. Sirens and alarms drew closer through the late day air, but Joseph saw no sign of units on this side of the star port.

Signaling a Taxi, he jumped into the first one that stopped. Signaling for the driver to leave, Joseph threw his bag onto the seat beside him. The vehicle turned onto the main intersection and began its path away from the star port. Looking through the back window of the cab, he watched from a good distance away as multiple security forces and guard vehicles surrounded the hangar of port 24.

Breathing a long sigh of relief, Joseph sat back down and sank into the dirty cushioning of the somewhat dilapidated cab. From here, things were really going to get interesting.

Chapter 5 - Manhunt

An encompassing exhaustion overtook Joseph seemingly all at once. His eyes felt heavier than he could ever remember, and every muscle in his body seemed to protest even the smallest movement. Carefully probing his tender side, he hoped to find that he had only cracked a rib or two. Thankfully, it felt as if they were only cracked. Looking down at his right arm, he noticed a dark red blotch of Trent's blood stained into the material. Joseph hurriedly rolled up his sleeves to hide the evidence of the recent battle.

Up front, the cab driver casually drove down the road. From the corner of his eye, Joseph noticed the driver's hidden interest in his newest patron.

"Where to?" the driver queried.

"Where else after two straight shifts?" Joseph replied, trying to throw in a bit of a gruff nature to his voice. "The Angry Anchor. I'm gonna drink my ass off." Joseph hoped to conceal his real agenda with the average laborer's desire to drink a hard life away.

"Seems like trouble at the star port, trouble with a capital 'T' if you know what I mean," the cabbie stated plainly.

"Tell me about it. I'm just glad my shift was up before the Arbiters closed down the entire wing."

Glancing back a few times through the rear-view mirror, the driver decided that there was nothing worth his concern and concentrated on the route to his destination.

Reaching into his bag beside him, Joseph relaxed when he felt the re-assuring grip of his customized las-pistol inside. Having lost the hold-out pistol in the extended firefight, he welcomed his old and powerful ally for whatever would come next. He vowed to be more aware of the situation around him in the future so that next time he was ambushed he would be able to use the powerful weapon.

Now, with the Guard and local Arbites on alert, Joseph had scant hours to find a way off planet. His only recourse if he was unable to escape was to find a place to hideout for a couple of months on the planet. Finding a suitable habitat that wouldn't be subject to search or suspicion would be near impossible. Unlike the monolithic hive cities that the Imperium of man was known to construct, the small flat cities that populated Garuis IV left few places to hide.

Joseph watched passively as the rundown, grey ferrocrete buildings rolled by outside of the passenger's side window. Tired and dirty ship mechanics, dock loaders, and other blue collar workers mindlessly strolled on the walkway nearby. The ensuing crowd and bustle of the shift change could work to Joseph's advantage in staying unnoticed. Trying to relax a bit and get a few minutes of rest before his next venture could begin, Joseph closed his eyes and drifted quickly into sleep.

The clear, giant pitcher of beer slammed down hard on the dark oak table, causing a good amount of the local ale to splash on the men crowded around it. Laughter emitted from the group of drunken men, their merriment and fervor inevitably causing more beer to spray and spill from their glasses. Shouts and cheers of the men resounded inside of the packed bar, as they swung their mugs high to and fro in the series of salutes that were being called out.

Joseph smiled broadly as Briggs bear-hugged him, lifting him high into the air. Being the much smaller man, Joseph felt as if he were a child again.

"This little bastard just saved my hide, again!" the large man exclaimed, dropping Joseph and re-gripping his mug of beer. "Three cheers for Storm, the most fearless, reckless, and down-right craziest soldier known to the Guard!" Screams of agreement followed his proclamation.

Waving his arms in meek acceptance, Joseph laughed and then drank a large portion of the beer left in his glass. Before he could set it down, the waitress automatically poured more of the strong ale into his cup. Looking down and realizing that the hard work he had put in downing the first five glasses of beer had been extended without his acknowledgement, Joseph sighed deeply and reluctantly began the sixth.

Briggs grabbed a few of the chairs that were randomly set about the floor, aligning them so that the men of his squad could sit around the same table. Putting his arms around Joseph's head, he led him to a chair in front of the table. Several other guardsmen sat down around them.

"You truly are one crazy bastard, Storm!" Doc yelled from across the table, his voice straining to be heard over the roar of the celebrating men.

"Yeah, when you rushed the pillbox where that RPG was firing, I thought you were a goner. I'll be damned, if that thing got another shot off, we'd all have been toast," Stenner added. The men huddled around the table grunted in concurrence.

"Eh, the idiot was having a hard time reloading the damn thing. I figured that it was as good of a time as any to take 'em out," Joseph answered.

"How the hell did you know that? I had line of sight on the assholes and even I couldn't tell what they were up to. You must have an implant in that socket of yours!" Briggs joked.

How did I know that? The question resounded in Joseph's head. He knew he hadn't seen the men struggling with the ammo and the weapon, but somehow he had bet his life that they were busy and couldn't fire during his charge.

Suddenly an eerie feeling washed over Joseph. Everything seemed much cloudier than he remembered, which in turn prompted his acceptance that he was dreaming. Instant recall identified the scene before him from his memory; it was the celebration after the liberation of Jeruss Prime's main city.

Joseph remembered the brutal fighting on Jeruss Prime and that the Guard had lost almost half of their numbers in the final assault. After losing more than one-third of their own regiment's men to the numerically superior enemy, the hard fought victory gave the Altariun 512th great cause to celebrate that night in one of the local taverns. They celebrated the triumph and toasted to their lost comrades.

The conversation around the table moved forward, but Joseph could hear none of it. Drowning most of the other sounds out were the loud cheers and singing of the inebriated crowd surrounding them. Glasses broke in the background and laughter boomed out of nowhere like mortar shots in the field. Although now aware he was fully dreaming, Joseph found he could do nothing more than observe the scene taking place in front of him, like watching the most realistic holopic.

Briggs said something that sparked roaring laughter from the others (all except for Dereje Novo who sat somewhat away from the table and drank heavily), but Joseph didn't catch the joke. Doc retorted with something that he could only guess was sarcasm, which prompted the blushing on Briggs' large cheeks. Joseph couldn't help himself and found that he was smiling from not only the scene, but the recollection of a great memory.

Suddenly the bright room darkened. A general hush settled over the area, and the only thing Joseph could make out was the click-clack of footsteps approaching from behind the crowd in front of him

The host began parting as a figure emerged from the background, coming into focus as he grabbed a chair and sat next to Briggs. Corporal Trent Johnson grabbed a cigar from his front pocket and lit it with quick stroke. His facial features were darker than Joseph had ever seen, and a small, mocking grin rounded the corners of his mouth. He stared straight at Joseph, almost through him.

Joseph swallowed hard involuntarily, but held the stare. Without want or command, his body lifted the pitcher of beer in the middle of the table and poured a glass for Johnson.

Wordlessly, the man grabbed the mug and quickly downed the contents. Finished with the liquid, he slammed the cup onto the table, causing the glass to shatter. Small fragments of glass scattered onto the floor below. Blood began to flow from a cut on Trent's hand. Unaware of his injury, the man moved to wipe the sweat from his brow, all the while still holding his stare at Joseph. Once his hand returned to the table in front of him, Joseph watched in horror as Trent's forehead was covered with blood.

Just like when I watched him being shot in the head. The frightening thought sent a chill down Joseph's spine.

Realizing now that more blood was apparently streaming from his forehead, Joseph jumped out of his seat. He looked around him and found all eyes were on him. Taking small steps back, he began to will himself awake. Struggling to escape this false memory in his mind, he desperately tried to convince himself that it was just a dream. After a few seconds of complete silence, Joseph realized he was helplessly stuck.

"So this is the great Storm. Looks more like a cowardly traitor to me." Several of the men around laughed as Johnson stood up from the chair and began to walk around the table, addressing the crowd as he moved.

"Posing as a Guardsman and a friend… this bastard shot me!"

"No. It wasn't me, Trent. I swear, it wasn't me," Joseph replied so faintly it seemed to him a whisper.

"You killed me, Joseph. You killed me just like you killed Gregor and Novo… just like you're going to kill everyone else around you!" Johnson's voice boomed throughout the bar, echoing loudly against the wood and plascrete walls.

"It wasn't my fault. There was nothing I could do. All I wanted to do was leave!"

"Liar! You are a traitor to the Guard, to your friends, the Imperium, and most importantly, you are a traitor to the Emperor!" Trent's rising voice started to sound like the fervent ramblings of a madman on the corner of a busy street, proclaiming doom to all. The crowd around him anxiously ate it up, shouting their accord and cheering for blood.

Joseph tried to turn and break through the crowd towards the exit, but he was pushed back towards Trent from the outlying men in the mob. His strength sapped, Joseph could not break free from the horde as multiple hands grabbed his arms and held him from moving. They turned him around to face Johnson, who was approaching with murderous eyes.

As Johnson leaned closer, Joseph watched in horror as his eyes glazed over and became a dull white, losing all trace of his irises.

"Welcome to the cold, little man. The emptiness of the void is yours to explore, forever. You were born to die, and the stars shall be your tomb." As Johnson raised a peculiar dagger into the air, strange runes shone from its handle with a bright violet light.

A bizarre chant burst from the crowd around Joseph. As their strange words rang out, an uncanny heaviness filled the atmosphere in the bar. Suddenly unable to breathe, Joseph began to cry out for help, only to find his voice unwilling to sound.

His arm at the pinnacle of its height, Johnson smiled as the host around him became unnervingly silent. The blood flowing from Johnson's head dripped down onto Joseph as the dead man loomed over him. Finally giving up, Joseph stopped struggling and looked up at Trent. Panic riddled every inch of his body as he watched Trent plunge the dagger downward and into his chest.

--------------------------

Jumping up in the back seat, Joseph awoke, gasping for air. The cab swerved slightly as the driver turned his head and looked behind at Joseph, surprise evident on his face.

"You okay Bub?" the older man queried.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he slowly calmed his mind as the last vestiges of the dream floated away, dying as fast as the after-image of a spark in the night.

"Yeah, I'm fine. How far away are we?" Joseph collected himself, once again lying back against the filthy seat.

"About a block away. You want me to wait?"

"No thanks, this is my last stop." Joseph winced as he realized the bad omen in his own words.

The car pulled up to the front of the Angry Anchor, stopping sporadically for the pedestrians haphazardly walking through the street from the bar and the nearby docks. Sticking low in the back, Joseph spied the area, searching for any signs of danger. Convinced that the bar was not being watched at the moment, Joseph exited the cab after paying the driver a good tip. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he walked across the street and entered the bar for the last time.

Watching as the slender man walked cautiously into the bar, the bulky soldier hidden behind a vehicle nearby used his large finger to press the button on his communication device. "Tango-one, we have confirmed contact."

"Affirmative. Seal the exit points and wait for the call."

The large guardsman motioned across the street to the waiting group of men. Nodding in confirmation, the unit rushed across the road and positioned themselves against the front wall of the bar.

Rising to his feet, Private First Class Larson Briggs grabbed the rifle from his shoulder and turned off the safety. Looking back, he addressed the men standing behind him. "Listen up boys. Storm was the best in my squad, possibly even the whole damn regiment. He took out Johnson and half of the Pyrus's thirty-third squad in the hangar. Watch each other's ass, and stay in cover. This guy is a crack shot, so don't poke your head out and make it easy for him. We go on the Interrogator's word. Let's move!"

Stepping around a young couple kissing near an opening to the main floor, Joseph carefully scanned the crowd in proximity. Grudgingly, he was hoping to find the arrogant Captain from before. Not finding a familiar face, he walked past the doorway and near the dance floor. The smoke coming from the obscura users in the crowd, mixed with the loud music pounding out of the speakers, made Joseph's search that much more difficult.

As he came closer to covering almost the entirety of the bar, Joseph felt himself close to panic. He knew that he was risking being caught coming back to this place, but the Captain was his best chance of getting off of the planet undetected.

"Joseph Vintros," interrupted a voice from behind Joseph.

Freezing in his spot, Joseph slowly turned around to face the direction of the voice. Sitting at a table a few yards away was a lean, well-dressed man. Tailored with expensive blue material, the smiling man also wore battle armor underneath the outer layers of his clothing. The two large, golden shoulder pads he adorned had the emblem of the two-headed eagle embroidered on them, giving him a sense of regality. Holding his right hand in the air, he motioned for Joseph to take the lone seat opposite of him.

Noticing that Joseph was warily searching around the bar, he laughed. "They're covering the exits as we speak. Please, sit down, they will not move without my word. Let us speak like civilized men."

Judging by his elegant speech and appearance, Joseph knew the man was highborn, possibly in the employ of an Inquisitor. Checking the area one last time, he reluctantly walked over to the chair and sat down. A waitress quickly made her way to the table as the man flagged her down.

"Now then, shall I order you a drink?"

Joseph shook his head briefly. Pursing his lips, the elegantly fashioned man waved the waitress away.

"Can't blame you, there's not a decent spirit in the establishment." Staring at Joseph, he tilted his head slightly, sizing up the disheveled Guardsman.

"How did you know I'd be back here?" Joseph queried.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced." Ignoring Joseph's statement, the tall, thin man stood from his chair and bowed. "Interrogator Harris Falten, I come on behalf of my lord Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos."

"Inquisitor? I was warned someone in high places had taken interest in me."

"An interest that is very much for the greater good. I'm sorry, but the road ends here. You will give yourself up and I will take you to my master. No more blood needs be spilled today."

The image of Trent's body falling down in a heap in front of him made Joseph shiver. "I'm afraid, dear Interrogator, I cannot allow that to happen."

"Heroics will only get you and innocent bystanders here killed. Are you so far gone that you'd let innocents die because of you?" Falten's face flushed red as his anger started to become evident, even creeping into his voice.

"Not from my bullets, sir." Joseph's mocking tone only furthered the man's irritation.

"Insolent whelp! How they ever let a simple farm boy escape this long is beyond me. It speaks droves on the incompetence of the Guard. You will stand down, or so help me Emperor I will take you down myself." Hands shaking slightly, the man slammed his drink down and began to stare into Joseph's eyes.

"Anytime you're ready, make your move." Joseph, hands already under the table, began to ready his las-pistol. The Interrogator's jaw bunched up as he tensed.

"You give me no choice." The Interrogator shrugged nonchalantly as he spoke one word under his breath, "Falcon."

Instantly recognizing the mumbled remark as a code word for a strike, Joseph flung the table up into Falten, kicking it mid-air to add extra momentum. Shattering into pieces, the oak table knocked the Interrogator backwards, causing his chair to spill him on his back and crack his head hard against the ground. Shouts of alarm rang out from the entrance of the bar where several soldiers had rifles raised as they spilled into the crowd. Moving forward, Joseph checked on the fallen man, seeing the Interrogator lying unconscious on the floor.

Turning his head rapidly, Joseph instinctively drew his pistol and shot a soldier running in from the rear left exit of the bar. Several more started to file in from behind the downed man. Grabbing his bag on the floor, Joseph ran towards the other side of the room, shoving his way through the panicking throng of patrons.

Two soldiers suddenly appeared from the exit Joseph had set his mind on using, guns raised and searching for him. Ducking just as the shots rang over his head, Joseph used his momentum to slide along the hard and dirty floor. Shooting twice and scoring two hits, Joseph watched the men collapsed, each holding the smoldering wound on their shoulder. More shouts and shots came from behind him. Jumping to his feet, he ran for the door.

As Joseph began to exit, a large wall appeared in front of him. Slamming fully unaware into the impenetrable obstacle, the air left his lungs and sent him sprawling backwards to the floor. Larson Briggs merely grunted as he relaxed his body after the impact.

"I'm sorry, Storm." Briggs raised his rifle and aimed it at Joseph's head.

Kicking from the ground, Joseph struck the side of the big man's knee, altering his aim slightly and causing him to join Joseph on the floor. The bullet that was fired had missed his head by a mere inch. With his right arm, Joseph knocked the gun out of the big man's massive hands.

Getting up on one knee, Joseph raised his pistol and pointed it at Briggs. "Stay down, Beef. This doesn't concern you." He kept the aim steady as he rose once again to his feet and grabbed his pack. The big man stayed on the ground, sitting up slightly to hold his shattered kneecap.

"Even you can't run away from these people, Storm. They'll have the entire regiment searching for you by nightfall. Just come peacefully and I'll make sure they don't shoot you. I owe you at least that, you did save my life several times."

"Just stay down, my friend. Believe me when I say I don't want to hurt you." Walking backwards, Joseph glanced a few times outside of the doorway to make sure the way was clear. "Good-bye old friend. Give the Interrogator my thanks for his hospitality. If he's lucky, we'll never meet again." Turning around, Joseph rolled back just enough to prevent the punch aimed at his head to strike flush on his jaw and knock him out cold. Sprawling backwards, Joseph steadied himself by grabbing a pole on the nearby bar ledge.

The Guardsman that had almost floored Joseph pushed his advantage and rushed after him. After dodging several more blows, Joseph's head began to clear. Blocking the man's next strike, Joseph countered and struck the man right in the throat. The trim man fell to his knees, gasping for air. Joseph brought a knee up into the man's jaw and sent him to the floor.

Heading once again to the exit, Joseph stopped when he heard a click behind him. Turning around, he saw Briggs on the ground, rifle up and aimed directly at him.

Not saying a word, Joseph simply looked into Brigg's eyes and sighed. The large man's expression softened as he dropped his aim.

"Get out of here, before the others arrive. Emperor speed my friend."

Nodding to his friend, Joseph ran outside and headed towards the boardwalk.

Once he was a couple hundred feet away, Joseph heard shots directed his way. Sirens bleated out and crept closer to the area. Frantically, he searched for a quick way out of the vicinity. Bullets and las-fire started to get closer to the ground behind him.

A huge wash of heated air hit Joseph's body, causing him to close his eyes and bring his hands up to cover his face. Once the heat became tolerable, Joseph re-opened his eyes and saw Captain Yrius Vin Holson standing on a land speeder a few feet away.

"Well, my boy… looks like you could use some transport after all," the Captain said amid his laughter.

Chapter 6 – The Isis

Speechless, Joseph stared blankly at the Captain for a second.

"How did you find me?" Joseph asked.

"I've never lost you. I had a couple of men trailing you since you left the bar earlier."

"You've been watching me," Joseph said as his anger started to become evident in his voice, "even during the firefight in the hangar?"

"Listen, my boy, I could sit down and explain myself to you now while your body gets riddled with bullets, or you could shut up, jump aboard, and live." As if to emphasize the Captain's point, several shots sprinkled dirt up from the ground near Joseph's feet.

Keeping a hard stare into the Captain's eyes, Joseph grabbed the proffered hand and climbed inside of the speeder. Motioning to the driver, the Captain smiled broadly at Joseph as they accelerated abruptly.

Speaking into the driver's ear, the Captain motioned forward with his arm and then walked to the back part of the cabin where Joseph was waiting.

"Have a seat, my boy." Captain Vin Holson waved his hand to the brown leather bench behind Joseph.

"Where are we going?" he asked the Captain, slowly moving backwards to take a seat.

"We're going to Pasius, where my ship awaits us. More importantly, it's where your freedom awaits you, my boy."

Breathing out slowly, Joseph tried hard to ignore the way the Captain kept addressing him. Simply nodding his head, he turned his attention away from the Captain and glanced behind them through the port window of the enclosed land speeder. The spot where Joseph had boarded, now hundreds of yards behind them, numerous guardsmen were scrambling into vehicles to chase after them. Suddenly three land speeders identical to the one they were riding in sprung into their back trail, following in a loose formation.

"What's this?" Joseph asked, pointing to the land speeders.

"Well, we can't have them following us, can we? That's just a little insurance, my boy." The Captain motioned to the driver. A few moments after the driver spoke into his communication headset, Joseph watched as the speeders behind them split off in three different directions. "There, that should give us very good odds of escape."

"Sir, to be exact, this would give us a 71.5 percent chance of unmolested passage." The man whom Joseph had first met with the Captain spoke from the right side of the small cabin, his voice having a slight mechanical quality to it. "Taking into account the factors of our off radar equipment and low visibility, we have in total an 89.7 percent chance of uninhibited flight." The odd and heavily augmented man continued to speak, but the rest of it was a murmur most likely to himself.

"Yes, well, thank you for that helpful info, Strom," the Captain said, finishing the statement with a roll his eyes. "You'll have to excuse Adrium, he has a penchant for statistics and likes to contribute his ever factual precision to situations."

Somewhere a good ways behind them, a loud explosion reverberated. The men in the small cabin of the swift land speeder turned around and could see the scattering debris and smoke far off in the horizon.

"So much for the survivability of that crew," Joseph said with a bit of sorrow in his voice.

"Ah, not to worry, my boy. They're drones."

"Drones?"

Laughing, the captain replied, "Of course, my boy! You think I would take a big chance of losing my valuable crew? I take care of my own. You'll soon learn."

The rest of the trip through the plains of Garius IV passed by uneventful. Joseph, deep in thought, ignored the small conversation that the Captain and his first mate seemed caught up in. Report came in through the driver that two of the drones had been destroyed in the chase, but their speeder had not been detected or traced.

Their craft gained altitude as they entered the city limits of Pasius, the capitol of Garius IV. Droves of commercial vehicles below followed pathways and streets like ants scurrying across their domain. Striking Joseph as peculiar, very little air traffic seemed to be passing through the skies of Pasius.

As if reading his thoughts, Adrium spoke up, "Due to the war, the Guard issued an ordinance making most of the city a no-fly zone. Only authorized traffic may pass without danger of being shot down."

"Yes, it's taken quite a few imperial coins to get a clearance code for the past few days," added the Captain.

After several such queries demanding their clearance code, the Captain's small craft finally gained permission to land inside of an enormous oval-shaped building at the far edge of the star port. Landing smoothly onto their designated pad, the Captain spoke to the driver briefly before motioning Joseph to follow him outside.

"Where to?" Joseph asked.

"Well I'm going to check out at customs. You are going to find a certain hiding spot inside of my ship. Adrium will show you the way." The Captain nodded to his first mate and then started to walk away. Stopping briefly, the Captain turned around and said, "Oh, and do try to be quiet, my boy. I'm pretty sure that my ship will be subject to scrutiny before we are allowed to take off."

Pursing his lips together in partial annoyance, Joseph took a deep breath and then nodded to the Captain.

Talking more to Joseph than to Vin Holson who was already a good distance away, Strom said, "There's a 90% chance that we will be searched before making our way off planet. Follow me, I'll show where you can hide for the time being."

"Let me guess, it's a place where you put dignitaries and legal cargo?" Joseph added a good amount of sarcasm to his statement.

"Out in frontier space I'm sure you will find life to be quite different, Mr. Vintros. I've been told that it will be my job to help you acclimate to the lifestyle. You're going to get a much different if not clearer picture of the Imperium pretty soon."

"Actually, Mr. Strom, I think I've already begun to."

"Please, call me Adrium." The first mate extended his hand to Joseph.

"Call me Joseph." Shaking hands the two men started walking towards the Captain's ship.

Trying to avoid as many people as possible, Joseph followed Adrium through a series of long maintenance passageways. Quickly moving through the vacant corridors, they came upon the entranceway to dock twelve. Opening the access hatch, Adrium waved for Joseph to exit.

Stepping out into the wide open space of the star dock, Joseph immediately saw the large and gleaming ship on the landing pad in front of him.

Quite unlike any ship he had ever seen, the medium-sized Lorcha class vessel stood alone. Although nowhere near the size of a cruiser, and somewhat smaller than most of the larger trade galleons rogue traders commissioned, the odd modifications and aesthetics definitely gave it character. A large metallic body extended to a bulbous, hefty oval section at the rear. Numerous antennae and mechanical constructs lined along the top. Just before the oval shape began in the back, two wings extended out across the width of the ship. Each wing had three distinct angles forming into sharp points, almost giving the spaceship the appearance of an aerodynamic terrestrial craft. A large silvery mirrored section somewhat near the nose of the ship was what Joseph took to be the location of the bridge. Although mostly black and gray with noticeable weathering along the hull, the ship looked very majestic. With all its decorative value, Joseph curiously found no trace of weapons or defensive mounts.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Adrium spoke.

"Yeah, she definitely is. What's she called?" Joseph queried.

"The Isis."

"The Isis, what does it mean?"

"Apparently the Captain's ancestry goes back a long ways on Terra. From his family's annuals, he plucked the name. At one time, the name had some meaning, I suppose. Anyways, she's definitely one of a kind. Come on." Motioning to Joseph, Adrium walked up the stairs and into the open hatch, disappearing inside of the ship. As he still was studying the vessel, Joseph inattentively followed Adrium up and inside.

--------------------

Hours that seemed like days crept by as Joseph's muscles started to ache from the small space he was huddled in. Even with his knees to his chest there was hardly any room in the small holdout compartment. Several times in the past few hours Joseph heard the voices of the port security forces scouring the Isis. Footsteps began to approach his position, reverberating through the metal grated floor outside. Tensing for the unknown, he held his breath as the heavy steel panel that opened to the hallway in the ship began to slide away.

"Hopefully your quarters were not too uncomfortable, my boy."

Squinting as the rush of light from the ship's interior hit his body, he grabbed the pro-offered hand and rose up out of the holdout space. Stretching painfully as his body adjusted to open space, he gave the Captain a wry look.

"If those are to be my quarters, I think I'll take my chances back with the Guard."

Laughing, the Captain replied, "Lucky for you, my boy, we are short staffed at the time. Your quarters are to be much roomier. C'mon, let's introduce you to the crew."

As he followed the Captain through the narrow corridor, he felt the ship rumble as the engines began firing for liftoff. For a brief second, Joseph lost his sense of balance and stumbled towards the side of the hallway. Once the inertial dampeners kicked in and his balance fully returned, Joseph once again followed the Captain towards the bridge.

"The port was alerted of several fugitives escaping authorities in New Gherin. They just about triple checked every inch of my ship, which would be why you were in there so long. I guess it's a good thing we sold the last of our contraband two ports ago."

Unable to tell if the Captain was kidding or not, Joseph decided to let it go.

"Captain, about my role on your crew…"

"Don't worry, my boy. We'll discuss terms and expectations later. Let's get you properly introduced and on our way."

"Where are we going?" Joseph asked.

"We're off to the Anaki system. We have business there."

Recognizing the name, Joseph stopped a few feet behind the Captain. "That's only a couple of systems away from my home planet!"

"No time for reunions, my boy. But maybe once the heat surrounding you dies down we could make an unannounced stop. Okay, my boy. Prepare to meet the fine crew of the Isis."

Opening the hatch in front of him, the Captain waved Joseph in as the bustling voices and machine chirps from the bridge echoed out to them in the hall. "After you…"

Walking through the hatchway, the size of the bridge surprised him. Four large reflective windows were aligned along the top of the front wall. All but one showed the beautiful view of the sky above Pasius. The lone remaining display had ship diagnostics running across it, hinting to Joseph that all of the windows doubled as monitor screens when needed.

Half of the crew inside of the bridge were servitors, organic humanoids mixed with cybernetics. They were once human, before undergoing extensive bio-mechanical fittings and a subsequent mind wipe. Programmed now to serve as robotic slaves, they oversaw many different aspects of Imperial society.

Seated in several chairs a few feet from the four large displays were three men, busy working with the machine interfaces on the panels in front of them. To the left and right, Joseph saw a couple more moving in and around the various servitors, encompassed with the ritual duties of takeoff.

In the center of the room stood Captain Vin Holson's elaborate command chair. Plated with gold and inlaid with various jewels, its gaudiness was somewhat offset by the complicated controls on the arms and panels nearby.

Approaching from his left, Adrium nodded to Joseph and the Captain. "Captain, everything is set. Clearance has been given and we've already begun calculating the translation to warp."

"Excellent, Mr. Strom." The Captain walked next to his chair and began to address the entire bridge. "Excuse me, all. I would like to introduce Joseph Vintros. He's joining our crew as part of the security detail. Sound off and welcome him aboard!"

"Welcome aboard. Name's Yuda Scario. I'm the resident weapons expert," said the gruff and weathered man to Joseph's left. He wore long sleeved green and gray fatigues with several ammo belts around his waist and chest. Yuda's dark gray hair and scarred face displayed the many battles the man had fought. Noting also the man's perfect posture and muscular build, Joseph knew to respect his combat prowess.

"Greetings, I am Faramund. I'm the language expert and social facilitator. I also serve as a diplomat to various governments of…" the short dark-haired man started, only to be interrupted by the Captain.

"Mr. Faramund, I believe that short introductions are adequate for this phase."

"Yes, of course, Captain. Nice to have you aboard, Mr. Vintros." The slightly overweight man bowed almost humorously, folding one arm to his chest and grabbing the side of his expensively sewn robe with the other. To Joseph, the man looked like the type usually seen in the high court for Imperial diplomats or the scholars of the various academies.

A few seconds of silence went by as the giant of a man standing in the far left hand corner merely stared at Joseph without uttering a single word. The eyes of the people standing around gazed at him expectantly.

"Kuro? I believe that more than a stare will be required," the Captain said, breaking the brief silence and general discomfort of the moment.

Annoyance clearly on his face, the big man finally spoke, "Name's Kuro. Don't think I like you much, but the Captain says you're part of the crew now. Just stay outta my stuff and outta my way and nobody has a problem." Joseph recognized the tightly cropped blonde haired titan as the man who stopped him in the bar during his second encounter with the Captain. Kuro's steely blue eyes held a strong gaze that challenged all they looked upon. Guessing the man to be almost twice his height, Joseph knew it must be hard for such an individual to live in a starship where room was always at a premium. It undoubtedly did little for his manners.

"Yes, well… I think that's about as good as it gets for old Kuro here. Let me introduce you to the ship operators. This is Shadow, Menthoa, and Palthorn." Turning around from the displays in front, each man raised a hand and waved their greeting as the Captain introduced them. "Shadow and Palthorn are from the mechanicus academy, and Menthoa is the ship's engineer. Speaking of which, why aren't you in engineering readying for translation?"

"I've re-routed main controls here for the time being, Captain. We're working on the problem that we talked about a couple of days ago." The heavily augmented man nodded strangely to the Captain, hinting in his body language that it was a sensitive subject.

"Ah, very good, Menthoa. Carry on." Taking a few steps the Captain turned and spoke again to Joseph, "Navigator Pressley will have to greet you later, he's busy in his chamber preparing for warp. Doctor Maxwell is preparing his lab near the rear of the ship, so you'll have to meet him later as well."

"You have a fine crew here, Captain," Joseph stated politely.

"Oh, we are missing one more person…" The Captain's statement was interrupted by the mechanical hiss of the bridge door opening behind Joseph.

"Speak of the daemon…" the Captain humored.

"And she shall appear," the newcomer finished with a smile.

Once he saw her, Joseph took a quick breath and held it. Her long and flowing silky black hair draped just below her shoulders. Her slightly brown skin, flawless complexion and fierce green eyes immediately made him feel self conscious. For the first time in several days it occurred to him that he hadn't taken a decent shower or a comb to his head. The tight green and black bodysuit she wore only furthered his embarrassment and self awareness.

"Grace, my dear, please introduce yourself to Joseph." The Captain smiled, noticing the awestruck young man next to him.

"So you're the new gun hand? Heard you're pretty good. Grace Alexander, pleased to meet you." The elaborately beautiful and elegant young woman walked across the room to shake Joseph's hand. Joseph stood still and stared at her, only breaking free of her visual charm when she cleared her voice politely. Realizing that she was now standing right in front of him with her hand still held out in unrequited greeting immediately made him blush.

"Joseph… I'm Joseph," he spoke in a slightly monotone and distant voice.

"Yes, we've established that," she said bemusedly.

Several of the men on the bridge chuckled and turned to go back about their business.

"Well now, that should take care of the introductions. Grace, please double check our trajectory point and prepare the field kits for arrival. Have all of the communicae's been sent?"

"Yes, Captain. Pressley sent them early this morning."

"Excellent. Well, the time's come to take this show on the road! Joseph, my boy, please take a seat at the station in the back there." Vin Holson pointed to a chair at the rear station to his right. Caught in her beauty, Joseph almost ignored the Captain entirely.

"Well, it was nice to meet you," Grace said to Joseph, giving him a smile that made his spine tingle.

Addressing the entire bridge, the Captain spoke, "Crew of the Isis, prepare for warp. Navigator Pressley, on your mark."

Never having been on a smaller vessel travelling through warp, Joseph suddenly felt like small bugs were crawling in his stomach. He hurriedly grabbed the chair at the station in the back of the bridge and sat down, vigilantly strapping himself in securely.

"Translating to warp in ten seconds, Captain." Joseph guessed that the eerie voice emanating from the vox was that of the navigator's. Born through a bloodline that held a unique mutation, navigators were able to guide ships traversing through the etheric dimension known as the warp using the third eye centered on their forehead. Almost always concealed until time of actual warp travel, it was rumored that a single unprotected gaze into their third eye could cause a normal man to go insane.

Knowing that the warp allowed quick access through the dominion of man, and that the Imperium could never have spread humanity without its presence, it still held little comfort to Joseph. Some of the most evil and frightening creatures inhabited its boundaries, waiting to feast on human souls and to corrupt the material universe. Although his father had told him some of what the other-worldly dimension held, Joseph gathered that even his father feared and warily spoke of the warp or the very chaos that was contained within it.

Anticipating the change, Joseph closed his eyes and felt his heart pounding inside of his chest. Sweat formed in the palms of his hands and he tried hard to control his breathing. Images of daemons and twisted creatures vying for his soul swept in and out of thought. The countdown echoing through the bridge neared the end. Demanding himself to think positive thoughts, he felt the sudden change in atmospheric pressure and the electromagnetic hum of the warp shields igniting around the outside of the ship.

Gripping the armrests of his chair tightly, Joseph prepared for only the third time in his life to brave the treacherous and vast dimension known to man as the warp. He said a quick prayer to the Emperor that he would emerge on the other side with his sanity and soul intact.

Chapter 7 –

Two weeks proir:

Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos leapt over the scattered debris lying at the bottom of the war torn abandoned high-rise. Deep in the bowels of Hive Tysanus, only small pockets of light penetrated from the higher levels, shrouding most of the area he traversed in darkness. The corpses of his once brave retinue lay all around. A few of the more unfortunate were still dying; their trembling moans a lament for their cause.

Ahriman's prized power sword, Eridanus, latent with his own psychic power, cast a dancing blue light in front of him as the runes flickered from discharge. The distinct smell of ozone filled his nostrils as he overstepped more rubble at his feet. Massive amounts of psychic energy had recently been unleashed in the vicinity, ensuring Tycos that he was on the right track. As if to confirm this, small chokes of laughter echoed from the large oval shaped courtyard nearby.

Switching the grip on his beloved weapon to his left hand, he quickly checked the chronometer on his belt. Five hours had now gone by since the initial confrontation and ensuing chase. While only a few of his band had perished during the brief but fierce struggle in the Arbites containment area, many more had fallen during the chase of the man once known as Cetus Faramond. Now, only Ahriman and the possessed Cetus drew breath.

Cetus Faramond grew up a privileged noble in the colossal Hive City of Tysanus. Never knowing true struggle or having to raise a hand in labor, the spoiled boy turned his abundant time and attentions to the occult. Notated in his inquisitorial files, Cetus became a fully fledged cultist and practitioner of the ruinous powers by the age of seventeen. By twenty, he participated in what would later become known as the "Sacrifice of the Privileged" on Tysanus. Twelve thousand nobles and elite members of high society were slaughtered from an overt and brutal ritual sacrifice executed by Cetus and his devout cultists. Cetus' own bloodline were victim to this immense ceremony. Six years later, Ahriman had finally tracked Cetus back to his own home world, gathering his cult deep in the ruined under city of the hive.

Waiting patiently for a clear lock on Cetus' location, Ahriman and his retinue entrenched themselves in the society of Hive Tysanus. To the Inquisitor's own regret, it had taken them too long to finally uncover his whereabouts. Cetus had achieved his ultimate goal. Some eighteen miles from where Tycos stood now, Cetus had sacrificed his entire cult to summon a Daemon from the Warp. Possessing him as soon as the ritual ended, the bonding of the man and Daemon left Cetus unconscious in the middle of a huge blood circle.

While Ahriman and his followers scrambled to the location, the local Arbites were able to take the sleeping man into custody. Reports reached the Inquisitor of extreme vomiting and even fainting from the unfortunate peace officers who had gazed upon the obscene drawings and forbidden characters written in blood around the ceremonial circle.

Although his pilot had pushed their shuttle to the limit of its propulsion, it was too late. When they finally arrived, the man once known as Cetus had awakened. Nothing lived inside of the Arbites containment building. Many in the surrounding blocks were either unconscious themselves or dead. Following the trail of blood and viscera from the ill-fated Arbites, Ahriman and his faithful entourage were ultimately led to this courtyard in the deep innards of the Hive.

Making his way to the center of the dark courtyard, he began to turn in a circle, looking for any sign of the monster. Laughter boomed once again, seeming to originate from all around him and nowhere at all.

"Show yourself Cetus! Let us put an end this massacre!"

Bracing himself for a reply or an attack, the Inquisitor started to become impatient as a minute or two went by without sound or movement. Gripping Eridanus in both hands, he readied himself for the coming duel. Inciting ancient litanies against the dark forces of Chaos taught to him in the academy, he centered himself and drew carefully upon the power of the Warp in measured quantities. In anticipation, the discharge emanating from Ahriman's psychically powered sword flared, resulting in a multitude of sparks shooting out all along the sharp blade.

Movement from his left caused him to instantly jump and face the approaching figure. Most of his clothes either burnt or ripped apart, the nearly nude figure of Cetus stood a couple of yards away from the Inquisitor. His flesh was severely charred for more than half of his body. Ahriman didn't know if that was because of the bonding with the Daemon, or the result of the prolonged chase and the ensuing battle of which only the two of them survived. Most of Cetus' long dark hair was now gone, leaving only small patches sprouting from the top of his head. Even in the absence of a major light source, Ahriman could see that the Daemon-man's eyes were fully red, all of the blood vessels entirely ruptured.

It opened it's mouth to speak. Its lips did not move, yet the Inquisitor heard clearly and understood the words, "Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos, this one knows you well. You have spent many lifetimes pursuing that which you do not know. You bask in ignorance, and bathe in pride. Come here, and let this one take away all of your fear and self loathing. This one will fill you with darkness!" Disheartened, Ahriman realized that the speech was actually spoken out of order. The fact that he understood everything the damned creature said chilled his soul.

"Heretic! Traitor! In the name of the immortal Emperor of Terra, I dispatch thee!" Raising Eridanus above his head, Ahriman charged the Daemon.

The creature bellowed laughter at the approaching Inquisitor. Eridanus shrieked down from overhead and Cetus met the sparking blade with a taloned hand. Swiping with his other arm, the sharp talon extending from a once human hand tore deep into the Inquisitor's armor protecting his abdomen. Metal and cloth shredded from the blow. Ahriman deftly shifted his weight backwards to prevent the Daemons counterattack from mortally wounding him. Even with all of his training and quickness, Ahriman was still left with a deep gash across his chest.

Finally filled with hope, Ahriman noticed that the talon that had blocked his sword thrust was chipped and broken. The bonding process, still in its infancy, apparently left the Daemon in a somewhat weakened state. Had it been given a few more hours, it would have been able to gather its immeasurable power. Ahriman knew that now was most likely his only chance to best the creature before it could escape and reign terror upon the citizens of the Imperium.

Taking a few steps backwards, Ahriman circled the Daemon, frantically probing his mind for a strategy. The vile creature stood at rest, smiling at him as he licked some of the Inquisitor's blood that dripped from his taloned hand.

Ahriman leaped forward with a cry, aiming the end of his sword at the Daemon's lower torso. Barely moving, the once-human creature parried Ahriman's charge quicker than lightning with his talon. Before Ahriman could move back into a balanced stance, the possessed man riposted in an instant. The Inquisitor barely moved his sword in time to block the sharp talon. The force of the strike, combined with his awkward footing, sent him sprawling backwards to the cold, hard ground. All of the air in Ahriman's lungs was forced out when he contacted earth, causing him to emit a strange grunting noise. Struggling to find a way to breathe, he finally noticed that his sword was no longer in hand. Gasping hard, he blindly searched the ground around him with his arms, keeping his eyes trained on the approaching Daemon-man.

"This one thinks that you are done, Inquisitor." The vile creature made an extra effort to draw out his title. "Your blood is weak, as is your entire race."

With a verbal curse, Ahriman finally saw his sword several yards away from where he lay. The Cetus-Daemon stood above him, slowly moving in for the kill. He knelt down until his face was only inches away from Ahriman's. Fighting hard to keep down his gorge, Ahriman wretched involuntarily from the smell emanating off of Cetus. It reminded him of both death and the burning parts of an ancient engine.

"Strong enough to stop your kind!" Ahriman spat in its face as he yelled. Summoning all of his mental strength, he channeled psychic energy between his hands to push the Daemon off of him. Blood exploded from his nose out of sheer effort, but the Daemon stood in place on top of him. A crackling shield of electricity formed between them, as the Daemon easily held off his psychic push. Not willing to give up and die, Ahriman held his focus, willing himself to draw more energy than he had ever tried or even thought to. A stabbing pain began to swell inside of his head, causing his sight to blur. He began to groan involuntarily as pain blossomed all over his body. The Daemon still stood atop of him, amusement on his face.

With one final grunt, Ahriman expended the last of his mental energy into his effort. He felt something inside of his head tear, and realized that he was moving. Seconds later, as his head cleared a bit, he discovered that he was no longer in the same spot. Using sheer will, he propped himself up to find out what had happened. A small static discharge still danced in the place where he had been lying a few moments ago, now at least ten yards away. Out of his field of vision in the low light, he heard a strange gargling noise ahead.

Every muscle in his body protested as the Inquisitor rose to his feet. Taking small steps, one foot at a time, he walked over to where his sword was lying and grasped it into his right hand. Mustering his bravery, he walked forward into the darkness to find the source of the sound.

Only a small distance away from his encounter, he approached some scattered, ancient ruins. Tycos saw with great relief what the noise had been. Impaled on a couple of large metal spikes that had rusted and broken through the years, was Cetus. The creature writhed in agony as it tried desperately to pull itself free from the sharp metal that may have once served a fence. The force of the psychic explosion must have sent the newly bonded Daemon airborne, only to land here. The smiling Inquisitor said a quick prayer of thanks to the Emperor.

Limping over to the frantic creature, Ahriman saw the rising panic in its once again human eyes. "In the name of the Immortal Emperor of Terra, I dispatch thee, wretched spawn of the warp!" The Inquisitor raised his rune-etched sword to the creature's throat and readied the killing blow.

"He's gone. He's gone! Not now! No, not now! Come back to me, my Lord! I can still find him! I can still find Vintros! I can still do your work!" Cetus continued looking up and spewing cries of mercy in vain. Ahriman shook his head and spat in disgust.

"Oh, you'll see him again, real soon. As he feasts on your soul, tell the damned Daemon that I will find him and destroy him!"

Finally turning his attention to the Inquisitor, Cetus trembled as he spoke, "Ahriman Tycos, the ignorant tool of the great corpse! You shall find him, but in finding him you will find your death! All praise to DAEMON NAME GOES HERE!" As the name of the accursed name was spoken aloud, a strong wind blew around them, scattering stones from the tops of decayed walls. The bleeding, dying man cackled weak laughter that echoed through the dark ruins.

"Perhaps, but your death comes sooner!" Ahriman thrust the sword through the man's neck and into his head. At once, Cetus's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and blood flowed out of his mouth, nose, and ears. Pulling hard, a wet sucking noise accompanied his sword as it slid out of the dead man's head. The corpse fell limp on the spikes. For a moment, Ahriman could swear he almost heard laughter as he wiped the blood off of Eridanus.

Slowly making his way to a small set of stones on the ground, he took a seat on the nearest one. Checking his gear belt for his communicator, Ahriman found his communicator in pieces. Sighing, he turned his hand over and let the remains fall to the ground. It was going to be a long walk back to his ship.

Chapter 8 –Acclimation

The four large screens at the front of the bridge switched to internal readouts as the Isis traversed the warp. Joseph nervously read the same few screens over and over to avert his mind as the rest of the bridge crew left their seats to busy themselves with other duties around the ship. Captain Vin Holson was conversing with a servitor, standing and pointing to a readout near his chair.

"Joseph… Joseph?"

A voice rang out beside him. Quickly turning, he saw the beautiful Grace vying for his attention.

"Joseph, I think it's okay to unbuckle now. We've safely translated to warp," her gentle words came out with a smile. A bit embarrassed, Joseph hurriedly unfastened the restraints on his lap and stood up. "Captain wanted me to introduce you to the ship's doctor. Come with me and I'll take you to sickbay."

Falling into step behind her, he couldn't help but appreciate her feminine curves. He almost let himself become entranced by the way her hips moved from side to side as she walked. Before she could turn and notice his stare, Joseph collected himself quickly and nonchalantly asked the first question that popped into his head.

"So, Grace, what brought you to this ship?"

As they made their way to an elevator, she turned and smiled. "You mean to the Captain?" Joseph nodded. "It's a bit long… and complicated. Maybe one day we'll have that conversation."

Joseph raised an eyebrow at her response, and decided it was best to let the subject die, for now.

They stood silently in the cramped space as the creaks and moans from the metal elevator sang of their descent to the lower levels of the Isis. Trying hard to avert his eyes from her beauty (mostly in fear of being caught), Joseph instead decided to whistle an anonymous tune. As if totally aware of the situation, a smile never left Grace's face.

"The Doc's rather young looking, but don't let that fool you. He's actually much older. Oh, and he is a bit on the strange side, so try not to take anything personally." Before Joseph's answer could escape his lips, the elevator doors swept open to the sick bay.

Several servitors hurriedly scurried past the opening and into the open expanse of the room, sending a quick jolt of panic in Joseph. He immediately began to take in the details of the room, a habit that his Father had ingrained in him. He saw several large tables, a couple of which Joseph figured to be surgical stations, evenly distributed on the opposite sides of the area. Various medical devices and tools Joseph did not recognize were strewn about in a somewhat haphazard way. What looked to be a short, balding man in his early forties was busily reading some holo-displays in the far right corner. Grace began to walk in this direction.

They walked up to the short, odd looking man, waiting for his attention to fall in their direction. Seemingly oblivious to their presence, Grace politely cleared her voice. Startled, the little man jumped in his place.

"Oh! Grace, my dear. I didn't see you come in." A smile found its way on the man's face.

"Doc, I want to introduce you to a new crew member, Joseph Vintros. Joseph, this is Doctor Phanton Wells."

"Pleased to meet you Dr. Wells." Joseph held his hand out in greeting. The Doctor grabbed his hand in return and shook it vigorously. Joseph allowed a polite amount of time, and then tried to gently pull his hand back. The Doctor's sturdy grip held on stoutly.

"Please, call me Doc."

At once, Joseph's thoughts went back to that of his Imperial Guard unit. The kind face and sharp features of Doc Hendricks materialized from his memory. A sudden rush of emotions overtook Joseph, and he felt light-headed and faint.

"Joseph?" Grace's voice seemed to be calling out leagues away.

The two surprised crew mates caught Joseph as he fell forward. Moving him over to one of the tables, they laid him across the cold metal surface.

"Hmm, doesn't seem to be anything physical. All of his vitals are stable, and blood flow seems adequate. It could be stress induced," Joseph heard the Doctor analyzing. Joseph barely registered the medical instrument the man held in his hand and swept over his body. A sudden pain in his arm broke him from his dream like state.

"I'll run a few extra tests, and this sample will come to use later on I'm sure. A person in our line of work never knows when you might need more blood synthesized." As soon as the Doctor took the needle out of Joseph's arm, one of the servitors rushed over and sprayed coagulant over the wound, instantly stopping the blood flow.

"Thanks Doc. Joseph, are you okay to walk?" The look of pure concern on Grace's face instantly lifted Joseph's spirit.

"Yeah, I think so. I just need to clean up a bit and catch a few hours sleep."

"C'mon then. I'll get you to bed," she said with a smile.

Joseph couldn't help but smile big in return at the prospect of just such an action.

---------------------

Interrogator Harris Falten fumbled with the ochre blue data pad lying on his lap. Waiting impatiently in the slightly chilly magistrate's room for a bit over an hour heightened his already mounting anxiety. The aged gray walls and lack of décor in the large room only added to his impending sense of dread. The local magistrate, a gaunt and withered old man, sat behind the desk at the back of the room, staring at an undisclosed spot on the wall.

Hearing the bass of a man's voice outside in the hallway, Falten quickly jumped to his feet and took a few paces to stand in front of the magistrate's desk. Taking a quick peek at his clothes, he tried his best to stretch out any wrinkles. Watching the door open, the Interrogator swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

"Inquisitor," Falten said, bowing deeply to show his master a proper greeting. "I have spoken with the Guard Liaison and the Magistrate. I have taken liberties to compile an official report of the situation for you." Correcting his posture, he held out the data pad to the approaching Inquisitor.

Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos grunted in displeasure as he jerked the data pad out of his servant's hands. Standing almost a foot shorter than Falten did little to take away from his commanding presence. The still fresh wounds from his battle on the hive world of Tysanus gave his already scarred face a stern and bitter look.

"How many times must I suffer from your incompetence Falten? Why was this farm boy allowed to escape the bar when you not only had the drop on him, but two squads of a Guard unit at your disposal?" Tycos' voice boomed with anger, and Falten imagined a fabled Dragon with fire coming from his breath as the only equivalent.

"My Lord, it is believed that he had help from elements of his old unit that were there at the scene. As well, the boy has displayed extraordinary talents in combat and evasion. He escaped only with the help of an outside party. He took off in an unregistered land speeder, of which we found two replicas fleeing the scene. They were both scanned and found to host no signs of life, so they were subsequently destroyed." Falten tried to remain confident in his report, but the hard stare and evident anger from the Inquisitor shook his nerve.

"Just who is this outside party? Did you find anything pertinent or worth while?"

"My Lord, I've commenced a search in the planetary records for all registered craft that have left the planet in the past twenty-four hours. Once we narrow down the list and manifests, we'll have a better idea."

"This is a waste of time. Anyone capable of escaping like that would not be sloppy enough to fly in a registered craft. With the war this close to the planet, it would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. No, it's time to open up the resources on this. I want trackers sent to nearby systems. Notify the guild, and inform the Guard of his status. This is now an official Inquisitorial matter. Magistrate, come with me."

Nodding, Falten grabbed his communicator and set about executing Ahriman's orders. The gaunt Inquisitor turned and walked out of the room, the older magistrate scurrying about to catch up with him. Waiting an extra second to make sure they were gone, Falten let out a deep sigh of relief. A quick chirp on the vox unit in his hand notified him that the party he was reaching out to answered.

"This is Interrogator Harris Falten, on behalf of his excellence Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos. We are in need of three tracker teams. Subject is a traitor Imperial Guardsman. Surname Vintros. Full name, Joseph Arian Vintros. Notify the guild and set up the accounts for payment. Access code Delta six-six-one Beta. The Emperor protects."

Joseph awoke several hours later, already feeling a bit better after showering and changing into better smelling clothes. His dreams, already hazy with dim machinations of the past few days seemed even stranger than usual. He had heard that being in the Immaterium could do strange things to a man's dreams.

He glanced around the small cabin, noting to himself that he would be calling this home for a good while. Not entirely cramped, the gray and metal room had very little aesthetic value. The bed was comfortable enough, much more than even he was used to in the Guard.

He noticed his bag lying in the far corner. Some of its contents were spilled out along the floor during his haste to find sleep. Scooping them up and placing them onto the bed, he found the small picture of his him and his Father.

He picked the frame up, silently staring at the lean and proud visage of his Father with an arm around the younger Joseph. Taken years ago on the family farm, he could still remember the hard work and time they'd spent building the store house in the background. It had only been a couple of days since they'd finished it when the picture was taken. Recalling that it was Gregor who had taken the picture, Joseph felt tears welling up.

Now everything was different. Somehow, the exciting and peril filled life he had as a Guardsman detoured into something much more dangerous. Now an outlaw and without any recourse, he was stuck on a ship traveling through the warp to Emperor knows what destination. He was truly under complete control of fate.

Wiping away his tears, he grabbed the belt off of the bed and strapped it on. Holstering his prized las pistol inside of the belt, he closed his bag and placed it onto the floor. Looking at his reflection in the mirror near the door, he noticed that his appearance seemed different. Not quite able to place how he saw himself differently, he just assumed it matched his already strange feelings. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door of the cabin. Closing his eyes for a second, he re-opened them as he walked outside into the hallway and began his new life.

Chapter 9 – Passage

Three days had gone by since Joseph's life changing events on Garius IV. Now traveling through the Warp at some immeasurable speed, Joseph finally began to relax. To him, the first forty-eight hours seemed the worst. He jumped at every creak, and had formless, sweat inducing nightmares. No one else in the crew seemed to exhibit any sign of fear, but Joseph guessed that at least a few of them had reservations about traversing the unnatural Warp.

The entire human crew of the Isis gathered for the late meal on the second day of the voyage in a large area designated for dining. A huge chunk of metal, most likely from a ship's hull, had been re-made and polished to function as a table large enough to accommodate everyone. Four servitors scurried about, serving the gathered crowd.

Conversations around the room varied, from the topics of politics, to dogma, to news from some of the crew's own home world and abroad. Joseph sat quietly and listened, not feeling much in the frame of mind for talk.

Even when Grace arrived it did little to break Joseph from his somber mood. Although he definitely couldn't help but notice when she entered the room, he had to force a smile. She had tied her beautiful dark hair into a knot above her head, and chose a sleek and tight black outfit that accentuated her already stunning body.

She immediately engaged the Captain in conversation, and Joseph never caught a hint of a special look or notice from her. The Captain had tried in vain to incorporate Joseph in a few of the conversations, but gave up shortly thereafter.

After eating a little and listening to the discussions for what he felt was a polite amount of time, Joseph excused himself and retired to his cabin.

Something inside of him wanted to cry that night. He wanted to cry for losing his best friend, for alienating himself from everything he had known, and for not knowing where he was headed. No matter how much he hurt inside and the overall confusion threatened to overwhelm him, tears failed to fall from Joseph's eyes. Instead, he lay motionless on the bed, sleep not coming for many hours.

After yet another fitful night of obscure dreams and strong emotions, Joseph felt curiously better when he awoke. Finishing his shower, he grabbed the only extra outfit he had brought with him, and dressed quietly. The buzzer next to the door suddenly broke him out of deep thought. He reached over and pressed the button that would open the hatch.

"Joseph, my boy, how are you doing?" the Captain said as he entered. His voice was much too loud, and his bright clothes and cheerful demeanor seemed out of place.

"Fine, Captain. I feel a bit better."

"Much better than last night, I hope." Walking around and looking at the few things Joseph had scattered inside of the cabin, the Captain continued before he could answer. "Anyways, I'm here to let you know that we have to make a short stop in our voyage. There is a certain matter that has caught my attention and I would be a fool to ignore it. I'm likely going to need some of your expertise when we reach port."

"So you're expecting trouble?" Joseph gauged the look on the Captain's face carefully.

"I don't anticipate it, but there's always room for error when dealing with these… highly sensitive matters." The Captain tried to put on a polite smile, but Joseph just sighed resignedly.

"How much time until we arrive?"

"You've got two hours to get yourself ready. Oh, and do arm yourself, I'm afraid where we're headed, it's a bit of a rough place."

"Now why does that not surprise me?" Turning around, Joseph found he was talking to himself. Shrugging, he grabbed his holster belt and equipped it around his waist. He picked up the stocky las-pistol and stared at it for a moment. Looks like we're going to see a lot more action before all of this is done, my friend he thought. Holstering it, he left the room. Sighing, he looked each way down the corridor to figure out which way the Captain had wandered off to. Prepared to query the Captain for more information, he began to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable encounter ahead.

-----------------

She tipped back another shot of the unpleasantly strong firewater. Becoming increasingly irritated from the glances and stares of the other patrons in the gloomy bar, she slammed the small glass onto the table hard enough that it cracked. Several men nearby eyed the petite and slender woman who was making such a ruckus. Some of the drunker ones began laughing and made no attempt to hide the fact that their collective attention was on her.

Now she really began to grow angry inside. She hated backwater, hole in the wall, small port bars like this, but inevitably found herself in them time and time again. Sometimes her career choice really pushed her to the edge of losing it, and now happened to be one of those times.

Two of the larger men from the drunken, laughing crowd decided to move closer. She continued to slam down her other shots, seemingly heedless to their advance.

"My, my, my… what do we have here Eras? Looks like a pretty girl with no escort, " the tall and very drunk man said.

"That won't do at all, will it Danter? Can't have pretty little things like this walking around dangerous areas alone, can we?" She tensed as they moved closer. The overwhelming stench of poor hygiene coupled with long hours of manual labor wafted her way.

Pursing her lips together tightly, she grabbed the last full shot glass on the table and downed it instantly. The taller man put his right hand on the table, leaning in to get close to her face.

"I think she wants our help, Eras. She needs protection, and uh… maybe a little company." The last part of his statement elicited laughter between the two inebriated men and from the group behind them watching.

Setting the recently finished shot down, she slowly looked up at the two men standing over her. Her lips formed a malicious grin.

"Not your type, frag off." Her voice was low and her tone deadly even.

"Oh c'mon now honey, I think I'm just your type. In fact, I think there's a few of us here who fit that bill tonight." He reached out and brushed his left hand through her dark red hair. She let him finish, and gave him a little smile. The tall, intoxicated man smiled big in return and turned to exchange a look with his friend.

Without sound or warning, her left arm swung to the outside of her body, knocking the leaning man's right arm out from under him. No longer able to support his weight, he fell helplessly down to the table. A loud pop echoed through the dingy bar as his chin met the edge of the hard oak table. In an almost comical fashion, the man collapsed to the floor in an unconscious heap.

"D..Danter?" the drunken man stuttered as he watched the dark pool of blood form around the comatose man on the floor. Anger building visibly on the man's face, he looked up to find her already standing a few feet away. Shouts of alarm rang out behind him.

"I told you to frag off!" Raising her voice so the others behind him could hear, she finished off her statement with a lighting quick side-kick to the man's midsection. Not able to react quickly enough, the man took the full force of the blow and fell bunched up onto the floor.

"Get that bitch!" exclaimed someone from the crowd by the main bar.

Several men from the jeering host behind pushed a few bystanders aside to confront the off-world woman. Three of them broke out and circled to surround the smiling lady.

"These two were foolish enough to push the issue, you don't want to force it," she warned the man directly in front of her. The man gave her a puzzled look as he glanced at her up and down, as if wordlessly pointing out the vast difference in size between them. He towered over her, falling just short of seven feet tall, while her petite and athletic body only stood at a modest five-eight.

"You never should have walked into this bar, little woman. Time for a well needed lesson," his deep voice boomed.

She nimbly swept forward as two men simultaneously attacked from her left and right. The grinning man in front reached out to grab her, only to find that she had already spun around to his flank in the blink of an eye. His grin turned to a grimace as a metal chair crashed against his back, bringing the big man to his knees. A quick kick to the side of his head promptly dispatched him from the fight. The remaining men rushed forward blindly, rage in their eyes.

"Is this the best Dantrias can offer?" she taunted the locals.

Dodging a few more of the men's clumsy blows, she began to grow tired of the encounter. She had thought that a fight with the locals would help bring her spirits up, but she felt no different and knew that the men in the bar failed to provide a real challenge. Sighing, she broke an attacker's arm, and floored the other with a closed-palm strike to the face. She became aware that the crowd around her began to back away, and knew that at least one of their comrades was about to escalate the situation further.

"Wrong move, whore…" a man shouted from behind her. He held up a small pistol and aimed for her head.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a glass from the table next to her and threw herself to the ground, rolling towards him. Beer spilling everywhere, she broke the glass mid-roll. Before the man could track her for a clean shot, she was already rising to stand directly in front of him. A strange warmth began to trickle down his chest. Alarmingly, he realized that the broken glass in her right hand had blood on it. Dropping the pistol, he grabbed at his neck to find a steady flow of his life blood oozing out. He tried to scream, but only a gurgling sound could escape his throat. He began to shake violently as his body went into shock. Falling to the floor, he died only a few moments later, wondering how he could have let such a small, pretty woman kill him.

Sighing deeply for the second time, she dropped the blood smeared glass in her hand, and turned to gaze at the crowd.

"Anyone else here think that I should be taught a lesson?" Waiting a few moments for effect, she grunted and shook her head. "I didn't think so."

Returning to her table, she lifted the overturned chair and sat back down. Waving for the barkeep to send her more drinks, she watched the patrons reluctantly return to their individual conversations. The injured men around her needed help from their friends getting to their feet, scurrying off to nurse their wounds elsewhere. Two of them had to be carried away by several others.

Trying to staunch the flow of blood from a broken nose, a single opponent glared at her as he left. Taking the pro-offered drink from the grinning waitress, she smiled back and enjoyed the look of hatred and utter defeat in the victim's eyes.

The lack of local peacemakers on this side of town meant that any injuries or deaths from altercations went unreported. This left the owners of the establishments in the district sole responsibility for cleaning up the messes. Of course, she had known that fact all along, which was the main reason she chose this area to buy her drinks. A slovenly obese man angrily stormed out from the kitchen area, cleaning supplies in hand. Surveying the damage, she didn't feel too badly for him. It could have been much worse.

A chirp sounded from the vox unit on her belt. She inserted her small ear-piece into her right ear, depressing the button to open the transmission. "Tam here, speak."

"Tam, it's Merrin. We've got a shot at an Imperial contract, high level. If you're up to it, there's a briefing at the Lord Governor's Imperial estate at 0700 local time tomorrow," the male voice explained over the comm link. The prospect of a top tiered Imperial contract immediately caught her attention.

"Acknowledged, Merrin. Inform the handler that I will be there. Tam out."

Finishing the remainder of her ale, bounty hunter Arinna Tam stood up and threw a few imperial coins on the table. Remembering the recent confrontation, she hesitantly threw down two more. Walking towards the exit, she caught a few nervous glances cast her way. Suppressing a smile, she left the bar.

Chapter 10 – The Meeting

Brushing past the thick crowd, Joseph finally made his way to the spotting point. The outside edge of the bustling market square ended at a precipice overlooking the industry section of the city below. Jumping over the guard rail, he pushed through the dense foliage and was immediately rewarded with a breathtaking view of the landscape below. Huge billowing clouds of smoke ascended to the sky from several large factories in the distance. Rolling waves from the sea could barely be made out far off on the horizon.

Reaching into his belt pouch, he took out the small ocular device given to him for the mission. With the device magnifying his view over a hundred times, he was able to observe the Captain and his entourage with crystal clarity. Joseph signaled through the vox to the others that he had reached his position.

Unlatching the heavy briefcase he had lugged through nearly two miles of the busy inner city, Joseph began to assemble the powerful las rifle within. Always use to being close to the action, something felt wrong about observing from far away. Even with the knowledge that his aim was superior to many others, he yearned to be closer to the action.

"Now remember Five, at this range you'll need a slight lead on your targets. The compensator on the scope takes a couple of seconds to calculate, but intuition goes a lot farther than a machine can ever give you," Yuda Scario's voice spoke softly over the vox. Over the past few days, Joseph had a few brief conversations with the older mercenary. He was more than helpful with getting Joseph acquainted with ship life, but it seemed apparent that he had a genuine mistrust of machines.

"Acknowledged, Four. I'm in position and ready," Joseph answered back.

Joseph felt his heart begin to race. The sudden realization hit him that he was on his first mission as a mercenary, under the employ of a rogue trader. The thought seemed strange and foreign to him, but after a moment or two he was able to relax a bit and slow down his pulse. Right now he had immediate purpose and didn't have time to worry about what direction his new life would take him.

"Seven contacts ahead, twelve o'clock. Six of them are confirmed armed. Copy that, Five?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, he quickly brought the rifle up to his shoulder and gazed through the scope. Seven men were approaching the Captain far below, four of them with rifles at the ready. "Copy that Four. I have them in sight."

Approaching the Captain's entourage, the men spread out with the armed figures on opposite ends. A short and robust man in the center began conversing with the Captain. Grace and Kuro stood on opposite sides of the Captain. Several servitors from the ship, two of which were combat oriented, were stationary several feet behind them. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Just wish we could hear what they're saying," Joseph said over the vox in a whisper.

"I hear you, Five. Captain detected some wide band vox listeners down there, so you and I are limited to sight. Keep sharp and look for anything funny."

A cool wind blew across the top of the cliff face, coating Joseph with the fine red dust indigenous to the area. He blew off a small amount of it that accumulated on the front of the rifle scope. Far below, the Captain and his team continued speaking with the strangers. Spotting something, Joseph instantly positioned his finger near the trigger of the rifle and zoomed in for a closer look.

"Four, is there to be an item exchange of some sort?"

"Affirmative, Five. Package should be no larger than a briefcase."

"It sure would be nice to be given at least a few scant details of the mission before hand," Joseph quipped, annoyed that vital information had been kept from him.

"I hear you Five, but that's the Captain's call, and you're the new fish. Shut up and keep watch."

One of the guards from the other party slung his rifle around his shoulder and stepped forward. With some noticeable effort, he held up a briefcase to the Captain. Nodding, Grace intercepted the package and set it down to open it. So far everything seemed to be going well. Joseph relaxed a bit more and eased his finger away from the trigger.

Far below, the Captain and the rotund leader were deep in conversation. Reading the facial expressions of the other man, Joseph could tell that something was either wrong or about to head that way.

"Four, I'm reading some irritability with our guests. Copy?"

"I read you Five, but settle down. The Captain's been through many tougher negotiations than this." Scario's tone of voice was laden with overconfidence. The others aboard the ship attested to Yuda's strength and combat prowess, but none more than himself.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Four. Permission to open fire the moment I see something." Joseph once again brought his finger over the trigger, ready for any sign of hostility.

"Negative, Five. You will stand down and wait for my signal no matter what. Repeat, you will not fire unless told to. Get your finger away from that trigger, son!"

Popping his head up from the rifle scope, Joseph used the ocular device to spot Yuda's position atop one of the larger factory's roof adjacent to his own position. He found Yuda staring back at him through his own rifle scope. Angry that he was being coddled, and that he had a rifle trained on him, Joseph swore under his breath and took his finger away from the trigger once again.

"Keep your eyes open, Five. But do not do anything unless I give the go ahead."

"Acknowledged, Four. It's your show." Joseph tried to kill the heavy sarcasm that itched to escape his throat, but managed to lessen it instead.

Resuming his watch, Joseph couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread. In the past, his feelings were never in vain, and had kept him alive more than once on the battlefield. Learning to trust his gut was something his Father had adamantly ingrained in him. He moved his finger just outside of the trigger guard, wanting to be as ready as possible for the unknown.

Meanwhile, at the exchange, Grace had finished checking the briefcase and closed it back up. Monitoring through his scope, he saw her hand the heavy case to one of their servitors in the back. The Captain was seemingly caught up in a full blown argument with the short obese man. The soldiers accompanying him looked uneasy as they listened in on the exchange. Joseph read each of the soldier's faces and knew what they were thinking. They were just waiting for the word to strike.

Thoughts racing a mile a minute, Joseph felt panic begin to rise inside of him. Knowing that Scario wouldn't listen to his hunches, he started to look around for any other possible signs of danger. Checking out the right side of the exchange location, he found many large metal crates stacked and strewn about. In his quick overview, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary, and a total lack of movement.

A bush nearby and in front of him obstructed Joseph's full view of the left hand side of the meeting place. Crawling forward with his elbows a few more feet to his right, Joseph once again sat down the long las rifle on its bipod and looked into the scope. Scanning the area, he was almost disappointed when nothing struck him out of the ordinary. Had his gut feeling been wrong?

Slightly dejected and confused, he spied through his scope back to the meeting place to find all of the players somewhat cooler in demeanor and stance. The servitor with the briefcase was already en route to the large civilian vehicle that the Captain had rented for the meet. The fat man's entourage seemed much more relaxed, and everything seemed at ease. The Captain must have said a joke, because the short plump man laughed and slapped the Captain on the side of his arm.

"Looks like everything is wrapping up down there, Five. I think we're just about done here. I told you the Captain knows what he's doing."

Bothered by his false feeling, Joseph simply acknowledged, "Copy that, Four."

Off in the distance, the Captain was shaking hands with the plump leader. Grace and Kuro were pointing to the servitors, most likely instructing them to retreat to the nearby vehicle. With a strange disappointment to Joseph, the deal had gone off somewhat smoothly. Although he didn't want things to go awry, he was unable to shake the notion that he wanted something to happen so that he could always trust his gut feeling.

In his ever vigilant nature, Joseph scanned the line of soldiers next to the obese man one last time. Satisfied, he began to move his eye away from the rifle scope. Sudden movement caught his eye, and his heart began to pound. Holding his breath involuntarily, he looked back into the scope. The last soldier on the right hand side's mouth was moving. Zooming in, it was easy to see the man was speaking into a micro bead. Settling back down, Joseph reasoned that he was most likely calling in the successful exchange. Once again feeling dejected, he let the air he was holding in his lungs out in a loud sigh of disappointment.

Joseph felt bad about wanting something to go wrong, since he didn't wish for the chance of someone getting hurt or killed. He knew deep inside it all went back to his Father. Darius Vintros had always told Joseph that a man needs to balance his reason and his feelings, trusting both of them equally to survive. Intuition was not to be scoffed at. When discerned and trusted upon carefully, it could make all the difference between life and death. Somehow, Joseph felt that he had let his Father down. His anguish and personal strife over the past week had somehow messed with his intuition.

He was just about to move away from the eye piece when abruptly he recognized the last word that the soldier had mouthed. It was unmistakably the word "shot". Back at full awareness, Joseph caught the man's subtle upward glance to his left. The tiny hairs on his neck and arms stood at end as Joseph hurriedly traced the man's line of sight to a several story building hundreds of yards away. He searched desperately to find the source of the man's attention.

"Five, time to pack it in. Mission is successful, and it's time to get back to the rendezvous point. Copy that?"

Ignoring the voice over the vox line, Joseph continued his frantic search for something of interest atop of the weather beaten manufacturing plant. Several access hatches and towers were raised on the rather large metal roof, making the search that much more difficult.

"Five, do you read me?" Scario's voice sounded irritated more than concerned.

Unable to process words at the moment, Joseph maintained his obstinate search over the area. Finally, Joseph found what he was looking for. He had stumbled upon the sight of which the soldier on the ground hundreds of yards away had glanced at. Prone atop one of the higher metal towers lay an unknown soldier with a long rifle pointed towards the far away gathering. It was a sniper who most likely just got the go ahead for the kill shot. His rifle was apt to be pointing down at the helpless, unknowing Captain below.

Cursing openly over the vox channel, Joseph zoomed in on the sniper and moved his finger over the trigger guard to feel the cold metal on his finger.

"Five, I didn't copy that. What the hell is going on?"

Taking a quick and deep breath, Joseph let the air out of his lungs and steadied his sight over the prone man's head. Wind speed and atmospheric conditions scrolled past the upper right hand side of the scope's HUD. Compensating quickly, Joseph pulled the trigger and closed his eyes.

Chapter 11 – Bounty

When she arrived at the small garden in the courtyard of the Lord Governor's mansion, four other bounty hunters were already present and conversing with the Lord Governor himself. She took a deep breath to help stem the rise of anger she felt welling within, and continued to walk forward to join the meeting already in progress.

"Ah, you must be Arinna Tam. I see that you got the message for the earlier meeting time. Unfortunately, the time tables involved have progressed. Please, join us." The Governor, adorned in expensive purple robes made of some sort of exotic silk, pointed to an open seat at his left hand side. As she approached closer, the Governor's eyes suddenly widened and a small grin sprawled across his face.

Seeing a loose button at the top of her tight green bodysuit, she quickly clasped it to prevent any more unwanted stares from the Governor and the other men present at her exposed cleavage. Nodding in feign respect to the men assembled, she walked over and took the pro-offered seat. She held her tongue, even though she was exceedingly upset that she had not been notified of the time change. Had she failed to instruct her operatives to vigilantly keep watch of her rivals, a common practice she felt to be essential in her line of work, she would not have become aware of the three other bounty hunters all traveling to the mansion ahead of schedule. But since she had tracked their early arrivals, she had hastily dressed and rushed to the mansion. For a contract this size and the terms involved, every minute was essential.

Without a great deal of insight, she already knew that the Lord Governor was a short, pompous man with a huge ego. Caring little for politics, she had nonetheless read a briefing earlier on his somewhat storied career. The short, long haired noble born man had basically inherited his position, not doing much of worth or notice outside of his family's heritage.

Arrogant and greedy, she also noted that he had quite an appreciation for gladiators and the more vicious blood sports the local arenas provided. Several times charges had been brought up against the man, only to have his name cleared after the accusers retracted their original claims or disappeared all together.

"I want to thank you all once again for acknowledging this summons. As the details will be forthcoming, I would like to take this moment to remind all present of the level of secrecy and clearance that this contract and meeting implies. Those retained for the contract will be subject to the jurisdiction and strict adherence to Imperial policies."

"Excuse me, those retained? I was led to believe that this was an open contract," a large and heavily scarred man spoke out from Arinna's left. She recognized the gruff voice of Jhanto Harnon without even having to look at his repulsive face.

Jhanto was easily her greatest rival and competitor. Having both been in the bounty hunting profession for many years, they had crossed paths on more than one occasion. After harshly turning down several of his sexual advances, the rivalry had blossomed. Three years ago, he had nearly killed her when they both arrived to claim the same mark at a crowded restaurant. He walked away unscathed as the victor, and she vowed to someday return the favor tenfold.

"Well, Mr. Harnon, as will be explained to you, while vast resources and expenditures will be utilized for the contract, only three of you will be brought on fully. One will be kept in reserve in case of … difficulties." The Governor put his best politician's smile on to accentuate his statement.

"Well stated, Lord Governor. Now if I may have the floor, I'd like to address the roles for this mission." A tall and lean man in spotless dark blue uniform joined in from behind the group.

"Ah, yes, very good Interrogator. Gentlemen, may I introduce Interrogator Harris Falten of the Ordos Hereticus." Arinna noticed that the Governor bowed a bit deeper than he was probably used to for the Interrogator. The bounty hunters gathered merely nodded collectively to show their begrudged respect.

"As the Lord Governor stated, three of you will immediately be activated for the mission, with one held in reserve. Orders will be given separately, and under no circumstances will they be shared with anyone else, even the colleagues present." The three male bounty hunters laughed when he referred to them as colleagues. Arinna was still far too angry to find humor in anything at the moment.

"Interrogator, will there be a stipend for manpower and materials in advance?" the handsome and exquisitely adorned bounty hunter across from Arinna asked. She had heard of Algon Herne and his exploits, but never met him in person.

"Each will receive a preset payment according to their orders and the duty required. My Lord Inquisitor has already taken a look at each of your dossiers and has assigned each man their payments and orders."

"Well I guess that leaves ya out little lady. If ya do get an itch to see some real action, just let me know and I'll send ya a holo of me at work." Jhanto gave Arinna a vicious grin. The two other bounty hunters seated across from him chuckled at the statement.

Fighting to keep her face from becoming red and matching her long hair, she responded through gritted teeth, "The only thing I would learn from a holo of you at work would be how to negotiate for a whore. Besides, any real danger and you'd get yourself killed." Jhanto's smile faltered as the other men grinned in response.

Turning her attention to Falten, she asked, "Interrogator, surely your master has been given ample time to decide based on skill sets and mission history? I'm confident he would find me more than a match for my competitor's here."

"Ms. Tam, is it? I assure you Miss Tam that there are no competitor's here…" Falten began, but was cut short as Jhanto stood up and moved forward aggressively.

"Face it, Arinna. It's time to get the job done and the Inquisitor's already chosen the best men for the job." Jhanto made a point to stress 'men'.

"If I could just ex…" Falten again tried to interject.

"And how exactly have your last two jobs gone? I hear you're having trouble finishing. Strange, it seems to be the same story coming from the local brothel," Arinna taunted, knowing that the last two contracts Jhanto had taken ended in total failure.

"You Emperor-damned harlot! I'll take your tongue before listening ta' more of this filth!" Spittle escaped his lips as Jhanto yelled in rage.

The Interrogator was about to interject himself between the two bounty hunters when he felt resistance on his right arm. Turning around, he found the shorter Lord Governor tugging at him, his face full of exhilaration.

"Let them handle this the way that their kind do. We don't want to mess with the natural order of the guild," the Lord Governor explained in a rising whisper to Falten. Seeing the bloodlust and excitement on his face, Falten gave up with a sigh and watched the large scar-ridden man approach the smaller red haired woman.

"Merrin's not here ta save your ass this time, little woman!" Jhanto balled his hands into fists and approached, ready to strike.

"Merrin's not here to save you from me, Jhanto. Now shut up and make your move." She stood calmly still, not moving to adopt an offensive or defensive stance.

The big man rushed at her straight on, swinging his right arm forward in an arch above his shoulder. Waiting until the blow that would land to the left side of her face was an inch or two away, Arinna quickly shifted her weight backwards and dodged the heavy strike. Jhanto involuntarily spun to the side as the momentum of his missed punch could not be stopped. Arinna set her feet and quickly countered with a snap kick to his abdomen. Trained and practiced in melee combat, Jhanto easily absorbed the blow by tensing his stomach muscles and exhaling in a loud fashion. Reacting quickly, the big man swung his right arm across his body in an attempt to catch Arinna in a backhand. This time she didn't even try to hesitate and ducked down well before the blow could land. Rising deftly, she threw a right cross of her own that caught Jhanto square on the chin. Jhanto stumbled back a few feet and shook his head. Murder in his eyes, he displayed for the group a grin so evil that it could instantly kill a priest.

"I hope ya got better than that, bitch!"

"For you, I've got so much more." Arinna raised her hand and beckoned the scarred man to continue.

Long since the skirmish at the restaurant a few years ago, Arinna had taken the time to studiously learn the man's fighting style. Knowing that Jhanto had some formal training in the Imperial Guard Academy, she had retained a retired martial master from an Academy to teach her. His style had evolved over the years into more of a street brawl fashion from dozens if not hundreds of individual melees, making it a deadly and powerful technique. Arinna planned to counter this with a light and quick strike set of moves combining not only the martial style of the Imperial Guard, but also several other foreign techniques. Through diligent practice and plenty of in the field experience, she had patiently waited for this very moment for the last two years.

Jhanto feinted a left hook, drawing Arinna to slide to his right a bit. Thinking she had taken the bait, he shifted his thrust and drew up to deliver a right upper cut underneath her guard. Recognizing the move for what it was, she changed direction until she was outside of his upward thrust. A powerful straight right to his left temple staggered the big man for a moment. Before he could recover, she continued with a flurry of punches to his ribcage and abdomen, ending the series of strikes with a spinning back-kick to his left knee.

The bounty hunter toppled under the barrage of Arinna's strikes, falling face first to the ground from the final blow to his knee. He chipped a tooth as he impacted with the hard stone ground of the garden's courtyard. Spitting out a fair amount of blood, pure rage lifted Jhanto once again to his feet. Arinna was waiting for him. Before he could even lift an arm to block, several savage blows to his solar plexus and head floored him once again.

Gasping, the large bounty hunter used his arms to crawl forwards a bit where he was seated earlier. Underneath the refined and expensive wooden chair was the gear he brought with him. Reaching out, he grabbed the handle of his sword and pulled it out of the scabbard. Glinting in the harsh morning light, Arinna recognized the danger and took a few extra paces back. Jhanto preferred to use standard metal swords, and as Arinna knew first hand, he kept his favorite weapon very sharp.

"Now we'll see who lives and who dies," the big man said, laughing in between as he used the chair to help him to his feet. The surrounding spectators stared at Arinna to see how she would react. The Lord Governor giggled almost like a child in the anticipation of seeing some real blood drawn.

Realizing that she had been searched and relieved of her weapons upon entering the mansion, she laughed audibly at how Jhanto must have anticipated such an encounter. He most likely bribed or enticed the staff to allow his sword through.

"What's so funny, woman? I don't think ya'll be laughing so hard when I'm skinnin' ya alive."

Scanning the area quickly, she took a few more steps back and replied, "That pathetic little toy doesn't frighten me. You're just making things worse for yourself. I'll give you one chance to surrender and save yourself a lot of pain."

"My sword has tasted your blood before, and it craves more."

Arinna braced herself as he charged with his sword pointing towards her heart. Knowing that if her timing was off by a moment or two that she would feel the cold blade pierce her body, she used the fear brimming in her mind to sharpen her instincts. As the blade drew almost a foot from its mortal target, Arinna began her move. She grabbed the chair from behind her with her right arm and used all of her strength to speedily swing it up between Jhanto's blade and her chest. As the sword pierced the hard wood seat, Arinna moved to the side and changed the angle, trapping the blade between the seat and legs of the chair. She swiftly pushed all of her weight down to force the chair and the trapped sword towards the ground.

Jhanto screamed in pain as his wrist cracked from the contorted angle of the maneuver. Letting go of the handle, he reached over with his other hand to support the wilted and broken opposite. Continuing her aggression, Arinna snap kicked Jhanto to the ground. Pulling hard, she freed the sword from the chair and held it up to her face for a closer look.

"It's a shame. Such a beautiful weapon should have an owner that knows how to use it." Watching from the ground, fear surfaced in Jhanto's eyes as she moved the sword through the air in a complicated and practiced fighting maneuver. In the background she could hear sounds of approval coming from the Governor.

"Do you see what I mean, Jhanto?"

Propped up on one arm, with his broken hand across his stomach, the big man whimpered agreement.

"I said do you see?"

"Yes! Yes! I see what ya mean! Now put the sword down, we're even! You've broken my ribs and my hand. Are you happy now?"

"Not quite yet…" she started. Quicker than he could think to reply, she thrust the sword at his head and swiped it away in a flash. Confused at what she had just done, the big man laid silently for few seconds before she held the sword back down in front of him.

"I think you'll at least half-see what I mean now." She laughed as the scarred-man screamed in horror. Reaching up to his face with his good hand, he wailed in agony as his fingers dipped into the cavity where his right eye used to be.

Shaking her head, she dropped the sword with the eye at the tip of the blade to the ground. Standing, the other two bounty hunters nodded gravely in respect and approval. The Governor clapped joyfully as the encounter came to an end.

Disgust evident on his face, Interrogator Harris Falten shook his head and took a deep breath. "Well I guess that settles the matter then. Tam, you will be the third team leader, and Jhanto will be forced into reserve. That is if he can find proper medical attention in time."

"Don't worry, I'll have my staff look to him," the Governor said in an almost too happy tone. He motioned to some of his guards in the distance.

"Bitch took my eye! My eye!" Jhanto screamed as he rolled along the ground.

Several of the Governor's staff grabbed the big man from under his arms and carried him away. Another man picked up the bloody sword with the eye at the tip and followed behind them. It was a few more minutes before his pained curses faded into the background.

"Well, with that bit of unpleasantness behind us, I will dispense with the orders. Here are your data slates with the appropriate information for what you will need and where you will start your search." After passing out the three data slates, Falten continued, "You will each be briefed separately tomorrow morning. Right now, I would like to introduce your liaison and commander of the mission. You will report all findings and coordinate your efforts though him. He speaks for me, which in turn speak for the Inquisitor himself. Treat him with the upmost respect. Ah, speaking of which, here he is."

Having arrived silently behind the group, the assembled crowd turned around to face the man the Interrogator was speaking about. Although not very tall, the dark and flowing black suit the man wore gave him an air of malice. A red glow emitted from the artificial eye grafted on the left side of his face. His flesh was pallid, and he seemed immensely uncomfortable and irritated.

"Thank you Interrogator. I look forward to starting the mission and doing the Emperor's work." His voice sounded a bit pained and hoarse.

"Gentlemen, may I present to you Corporal Trent Johnson of the Imperial Guard, on special assignment for my Lord Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos."

Chapter 12 – Retreat

Streaking through the air almost faster than the eye could see, the las bolt pierced the middle of the opposing sniper's head, effectively emptying it out and exiting in messy fashion. Without wasting any time, Joseph deftly selected his next target. Setting the crosshairs over the soldier standing closest to the Captain down below, he squeezed the trigger of his rifle again. The shot took him high in the chest and the soldier quickly spun down out of view.

Panic abruptly broke out in the horde below. The opposing soldiers started to fire at the Captain and his entourage as they retreated backwards. Grace nimbly dove to the side of their shots and took down two without even blinking.

Cursing wildly over the vox, Scario began taking shots with his solid round sniper rifle. The loud report of the weapon echoed through the valley as he dispatched one of the soldiers below. "You better have a damned good reason for this Joseph! If not, I'll personally have your hide!" Joseph ignored his taunts and continued firing on the receding soldiers below.

"Grace, get to the vehicle and activate the weapons system!"

"Acknowledged, Captain." Firing behind her without looking, Grace dashed for the vehicle in the distance.

The Captain and Kuro had each pulled out a las-pistol, firing on the soldiers blindly as they staggered back searching for cover. One of the Captain's servitors slowly moved forward, raising the auto-cannon fused onto its right arm.

Las fire streaked overhead of the firefight below. Joseph pulled away from the scope of his rifle to find the source of the added fire. Movement from his left caught his eye and he saw two men setting up a flanking position atop one of the closest buildings to the meeting spot.

Quickly re-checking his distance, Joseph lined up the new targets. After easily dispatching the first with a well placed shot to the head, the other man began to duck and run towards the exit of the roof. Tracking the panicked man, Joseph wounded him in the hip. In an almost comical fashion, the man took a few drunken steps before collapsing hard on the plascrete roof. Joseph unmercifully finished the fallen man with a follow-up shot high in his chest. Wordlessly, the man raised his arms to the sky as if to ask the question why, and then finally fell limp and motionless.

A deep cry of pain rang out over the vox channel. Switching his attention back to the firefight below, Joseph noticed Kuro stumbling to the ground behind a metal container. He was holding his shoulder from an obvious ordinance wound. Kuro screamed in rage as he ripped a portion of his huge outer jacket to create a makeshift tourniquet. The Captain kept a steady stream of fire at the attackers as he crawled over next to Kuro.

The Captain's attack servitor peppered the opposition with its fixed auto-cannon, sending several of the soldiers diving for cover. Ejected shells rained on the ground around the servitor, piling up after a few seconds. Kuro and the Captain used the diversion to run to another set of barrels closer to the escape vehicle that Grace was now pulling up in. Two medium sized las-cannons attached to the top of the urban vehicle fixed on the enemy's location and began to bore gaping holes into their cover.

"Four and Five, retreat to your rendezvous points. Meet at point beta in seven hours if followed. We'll regroup and pick you up. Maintain radio silence. One out."

"Acknowledged, One. We'll meet you on the other side," Scario replied to the Captain's orders.

"Get out of here, Five. We'll have words about this later." Joseph heard the anger in Scario's voice, but regarded it with casual indifference.

"Understood, Four. Heading to the rendezvous point."

Glancing down one last time, Joseph saw the enemy soldiers retreating under the combined barrage of the Captain's transport vehicle and the attack servitor. Satisfied that they would be able to escape safely, Joseph quickly dismantled his las-rifle and stowed it inside of the case once again. Remembering to stay low until totally out of sight, he jumped the guard rail at the top of the hill and walked onto the city street above. The crowd began at a sidewalk some twenty or so feet away, streaming in and out of a local café. Joseph tried his best to look inconspicuous as he briskly marched to join the crowd.

Gently pushing through the crowd, Joseph stopped abruptly as he saw three soldiers scanning the swarm from the other side of the street. Two local arbiters joined the soldiers as they conversed and pointed in several different directions, including his own.

Wincing, Joseph remembered the vox bead in his ear and quickly took it out, placing it in his pocket. Although small, it could still expose him as something other than a simple tourist to a trained eye. Scanning the surrounding buildings, he turned around and started walking towards an alley between a civilian Air-Car service shop and an eatery.

Not glancing back, he quickened his pace a bit and saw a pathway in the back of the alley leading to some dense foliage. He turned and took a peek around the edge of the building, trying to make out the soldier's position through the passing crowd. He couldn't find where the men had wandered off to, so he turned around and jogged lightly towards the trees in the back of the alley.

Passing by several trash containers, he observed a solid metal emergency escape leading to the top of the building. Jumping up, he grabbed the sliding ladder and pulled it down to within easy reach. Climbing partially up, he slung the case holding the rifle onto the top of the first platform, sliding it snug against the building and out of immediate sight. Climbing back down, he pushed the ladder back up and ran for the thick green foliage.

"You, stop where you are and put your hands in the air!"

Stopping dead in his tracks, Joseph slowly raised his hands and turned around. One of the soldiers had his rifle trained on Joseph's body, while two more came from around the corner and raised theirs in alarm. They moved forward in unison, tense and ready for trouble.

"What are you doing here? Name and Ident card," the shouting man continued. Joseph could tell he was the higher ranking soldier without even glancing at the man's uniform.

"Some guy just took off with my suitcase! I have all of my overnight gear and trader licensing inside of it!" To emphasize his statement, Joseph tried his best to look distraught and pointed behind him to the path leading into the trees.

"Name and Ident card, I'm not going to ask you again!"

Trying his best to look extremely annoyed, Joseph slowly reached for his belt pocket and pulled out the miniature, rectangle electronic device. Pressing the small button on the side of the casing, a holographic readout materialized a foot or two in front of Joseph, displaying a rotating view of his head. Identification information scrolled at the bottom.

Underneath Joseph's three dimensional profile read the name Kane Grendel. The information went on to indicate that his occupation was that of an Air-Car parts salesman. The Ident number and relevant information had been hurriedly created by the one of the Captain's tech team. Joseph was instructed that the information behind the fake identity would only hold up to a small amount of scrutiny. If the local authorities feed the information into a filter, his cover would be blown.

"Mr. Grendel. We're in the area searching for suspicious activity. Could you describe the person who stole your bag," the soldier to the leader's right asked.

"Certainly, Sir. He's about twenty or so, a little less than two meters tall, and had what looked like a dark blue armored jacket on. I was just exiting the eatery when he pulled me to the side and grabbed my suitcase. He had a rather large weapon underneath the front side of his jacket. I was quite startled!" Joseph once again put on his best theater face, trying to emphasize his shaken condition.

"What kind of weapon?" asked the third soldier.

"If I had to guess, it was some sort of rifle. Look, he took off towards that path there. He told me that if I went after him he'd kill me. It looked like he was on the run from somebody or something." The soldiers looked at each other and lowered their rifles from Joseph's body.

"Mr. Grendel, stay nearby. Find a seat at the eatery and we will send an Arbiter to take your statement and claim. Jones, McCall, let's move." The leader voxed in the new developments to his superiors as the three men ran down the alley and proceeded on the path into the woods.

Acting as if he was complying with the man's orders, Joseph waited until they were out of sight before he bolted back towards the ladder to retrieve his weapon case. Climbing all the way up this time, he took the case by the handle and descended down the ladder. Just as he pushed the metal frame back up, he heard footsteps behind him.

"So if he told you that he would kill you if you followed, why were you running after him? There was no guy, was there?"

Joseph recognized the voice of the higher ranking soldier behind him. The muzzle of the man's rifled was swiftly jammed between his shoulder blades. Annoyed for being so careless, he let out a short, frustrated laugh and placed the case on the ground in front of him.

"I suppose not."

"Usor to base, we have the suspect."

Joseph could hear the reply broadcast into the man's vox earpiece, "Copy that, Staff Sergeant. Proceed to headquarters."

"Roger that, base." Joseph could hear the click of the Staff Sergeant changing the vox channel. "McCall, Jones, I have our boy. Rendezvous back at the transport on Main Street."

--------------------

Joseph struggled against the hard plastic handcuffs tightly wrapped around his wrists. With his hands behind his back, he could no longer see the electronic lock and the flashing red light where a traditional key usually was located on low tech planets.

"Stop struggling or it will pull tighter," the soldier sitting across from him in the back of the old transport vehicle informed him. There was not even a hint of compassion in the man's voice. "Or struggle and it'll cut off the circulation in your hands. Either way I could care less."

Joseph glared at the young soldier sitting on the bench across from him. After escorting him roughly from the alley, a weathered and scarred transport truck had pulled over to the side of the street. Shoving him in the back, one of the low ranking soldiers had followed him inside while the other two sat up front in the driving cabin. A small rectangular port hole was all that allowed view into the front cabin and remained the singular source of light in the dim, dusty rear cabin.

Searching for any means of escape, Joseph racked his brain trying to find a way out of the truck alive. Once they took him back to their headquarters, his already weak identity would be subject to too much inquiry and he could be in for some major trouble.

Joseph forced himself to calm down. He noticed that he was struggling involuntarily with the handcuffs behind him, and they were starting to painfully strangle his wrists. He took a few deep breaths and used the mental technique his father had taught him for clearing his thoughts. Even if they did take him back to HQ, there was still a chance that his ID would hold up long enough for him to figure out something there. His heart rate dropping, Joseph began to feel more relaxed.

The soldier across from him took out a lho stick and lit it. Taking a deep draw from the skinny stick, the man blew a huge puff of smoke in Joseph's face. Coughing slightly, Joseph forced himself to remain calm and turned to look out of the front port window instead.

Straining, Joseph could barely make out the conversation a soldier was engaged in over the vox in the front.

"…informed that he would be armed and dangerous," crackled a man's voice over vox speaker.

"Affirmative. We found a case with a generic Mark twelve las-rifle with sniper scope inside. We're currently on Main Street, heading onto Highland Avenue." The vox crackled a few more instructions that Joseph failed to make out. "Roger that, base. Inform the Inquisitor that we will take the upmost care with his prisoner."

Joseph snapped his head back to look at the smoking soldier in front of him without realizing he did it. His eyes widened, alarm broke out all over Joseph's face. The soldier quickly looked up at Joseph, startled by his abrupt gaze.

Squinting his eyes slightly, the soldier started, "Hey, what…"

Not letting a full sentence out of the man's throat, Joseph leaned back against the side wall of the truck's back cabin, and struck out with both of his legs. Using all of the power he could amass, the blow took the defenseless soldier square in his chest. The lho stick dropped from the soldier's hands, ashes scattering all over once it hit the cabin floor.

A loud choking sound emitted from the man as he grabbed his broken collar bone. Not waiting for the man to react further, Joseph followed his strike by bringing the top of his head up underneath the man's chin. The choking sound stopped immediately as the young soldier fell to the floor unconscious.

"What the hell? McCall, what's going on back there?" Turning his body around, the Staff Sergeant in the front cabin peered through the small window. Not being able to see either his fellow soldier or the prisoner in the back, he yelled in alarm. "Jones, stop the vehicle!"

Finished with pulling the limp body towards him, Joseph let go of the unconscious soldier's leg and continued to stick tight against the wall dividing the cabins for a moment longer. Dropping the electronic key that he had taken from the fallen man's belt pocket, he rubbed his wrists as they were finally free from the restriction of the handcuffs. Feeling the vehicle slow down drastically, Joseph heard the small window being slid open and looked up. As soon as the Sergeant tried to stick his head part-way through the window, Joseph leapt up and stabbed the man in the eye with the still lit lho stick.

Screaming in agony, the soldier jerked away from the window and began to stream curses that would make even the most hardened Guard veteran blush. The piercing shriek prompted the driver to fully slam on the brakes and bring the truck to a grinding halt.

"Shoot that son of a bitch!"

"But sir, you heard the orders. We gotta bring him in alive!"

"Then shoot him in the leg, I don't care. Just shoot the bastard!"

The driver side front door of the truck popped open as the Staff Sergeant continued to spew agonized curses from the front cabin.

Searching frantically, Joseph found no weapons on the downed soldier. Even the benches on the side of the truck were made out of the same mold as the walls. Joseph realized that he was at a major disadvantage, especially since he noticed that the back doors of the truck were controlled electronically and the soldier never had to step close to open them.

A thought instantaneously jolted through his brain. Scooping up the unconscious soldier from the floor, Joseph grunted as he moved to the back. Ready any moment for them to open, he held the man between him and the doors.

After a brief click or two, the motor inside of the doors came to life and they began to slide open. Staying to the left hand side, Joseph waited until the opening was just large enough to fit a man through. Sunlight from outside pierced the inner gloom as the opening reached Joseph's anticipated width.

With all of the muscle he could muster, he flung the dead weight of the man onto the waiting soldier outside. Caught by surprise, the soldier accidentally fired twice into the air as he fell to the ground with the comatose man on top of him. He was able to fling the body off of him and to the side in a couple of seconds, but it was still not enough time to save him.

Joseph leapt from the truck and jumped to the ground next to the struggling soldier. As soon as the man had moved the body off from on top of him, Joseph kicked down with his heel onto the man's face. Feeling a crunch as he brought his foot down hard, the soldier underneath it fell limp and silent.

Reaching down to grab the rifle from the downed man's hands, Joseph heard an ominous click from behind him.

"Move and I will open a hole in you wide enough to fly a ship through," the pained and angry voice of the Staff Sergeant said from behind Joseph.

COMING SOON: Chapter 13 - Confinement