Cheap Warp Drives

+++++Let me start off by say that if you have captured and are reading this, then you have not only taken it from my cold, dead fingers, you also have managed to translate it using the cipher phrase that I was never dumb enough to leave any clues for. Congratulations and Emperor damn you.

This is the log of a heretic hunt, one that I plan on taking much pleasure in. Some of this log will be deleted for it will also second as a journal.

As a hero of the Imperium, I have been cooped up on my desk for far too long and yearn for the glory of battle again. However, as I look around me, I realize that this might not be a very glorious undertaking. I am undercover in the Imperial guard, to investigate a series of very unfortunate events that fellow inquisitors suspect to be the workings of the Istvaniaans.

They do not know who I am, my image is well known, but my actual face is not. I am disguised as a Scintillan high born who joined the IG after the family went bankrupt. This is not extremely far from the truth. I was a Scintillan high born, my father was an adviser to a family there and my mother is a Sister Famulous. While it was expected to follow in her footsteps, at one point in my life I witnessed an event that convinced me that I wanted to be a witch hunter, and perhaps one day an Inquisitor. I realized that being a sister of battle was a quicker route to that goal and I did indeed achieve it.

I have been very successful in my time with the holy ordos and have taken out many foes and threats to mankind. I have a nose for big fish and large cases. This has made me unpopular at times, so when that happens I will lay low and try undercover missions while things cool down. This is my second time as a guard.

I have brought with me only one acolyte. Weston is the physician, surgeon and well… let's just say I pay him quite a bit to keep me in one piece. We use to rarely get along, he would constantly scold and swear at me for not taking better care of myself. I keep copies of my own organs on stand buy at the manor (it helps to be good friends of a Magos Biologis who owes you favors) and Doc makes constant use of them. Until recently…

This part will come out of the official log, but I must once again remind myself that I am a recovering alcoholic. I was in denial for years, almost a decade. And… my liver gave out. It is terrifying when you can take on the worst daemons of the warp, but your own body caves in on itself. Although I hate myself for letting it get that bad, wallowing in angst will do nothing for it.

I have to be careful now, after so many transplants, by body is starting to reject any additional replacements, even if they are clones of my old ones. If I do not slow it down some, I will forever have to make do with bionics. I do not like them though, the emperor was once a man and needed no bionics to do his will. I am determined to keep that legacy and not rely on them either.

As Doc took care of me, I began to see a softer side of him and… well… let's say we are friends. It could be more but we are two very jaded people. There a reasons I started drinking.

I don't get to write like this, I have too many secrets that could get out. I guess this is looking more like a journal than a mission log. Very well, I will accept it for what it is. Maybe it will help me-+++++

The ship shuttered and several people grunted as they were disturbed from whatever mindless activity they had been occupying themselves with. Doc sat down next to 'Verna' on the cot and scratched his short, salt and pepper beard. "This has been a rough warp trip." He grunted, looking around.

The quarters had been crammed with cots and there was very little personal space. There was some sort of cough and a fever that was going around. It was nothing fatal, but was definitely making the trip more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

Verna cleared her throat and felt something wet rattle around as she did so. The quarters were warm so she was down to her slacks and tank top. "This is no luxury ship." She agreed, her eyes falling on the commissar who was slowly pacing around.

Doc frowned at the cough and put a hand to the side of her face. "You are warm."

Verna shrugged. "It will pass. I'm not really use to being around so many people. I'm not surprised that I have caught it."

He nodded and glanced at the red, leather bound journal. "That's nice." He grunted.

"Mission log. Or if the commissar asks, a journal." She said, offering it to him.

He took it in his rough hands and nimbly ran his fingers over it, paying attention to the details before opening it and looking over the words. "You've encoded it."

"I'd be dumb not too."

Weston nodded and handed it back to her, carefully sliding it under the blankets as the commissar walked past. "I would be careful about letting him see it until we know what type he is."

With a nod, she agreed and pulled out her copy of the Infantryman's Uplifting Lies. Weston insisted she lied down before stalking off.

Grabbing the journal once more, she added.

+++++Blasted cheap warp drives. This is going to be a long journey. Are we there yet?+++++

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