The Task at Hand
Colonel Julius Zano heaved a frustrated sigh. It just didn't seem fair.
There was war out there, a mere two systems away. A magnificent conflict to be waged against the vile Orks in defence of the Imperium, so close he could almost feel it. And yet amongst the entire Jeron Illustrious 1st Light Infantry, it was he and his company, the "Lucky" 7th, who had been selected to perform an investigative mission that might see them miss the conflict entirely. Perhaps the God-Emperor was testing him. Or perhaps, despite the auspicious nickname of Zano's company, he simply had the most atrocious luck imaginable. He found himself distractedly fiddling with the gold string adorning his uniform's epaulettes as he often did when anxious. He was a tall but slender man in his mid-forties and his severe cheekbones, furrowed brow and neatly trimmed brown moustache gave him the look of a professional soldier. Or at least Zano hoped so. He had never actually been in a battle before. His unit had been only months ago a Planetary Defence Force Regiment from the peaceful agri-world of Jeron Minor, until the Administratum, in all its wisdom, had called for the raising of new Imperial Guard Regiments in the sector to help break the siege on the Ork ravaged Forgeworld of Brovonius in the neighbouring system.
Jeron Minor supplied Brovonius's billions of workers with food, water and even shipments of fresh oxygen, so it was widely felt on the agri-world that it was a natural evolution of their partnership to now send warriors. The battle on the Forgeworld had begun four standard months ago, when Blujun Bonekrakka, a Warboss of the greenskin tribe known as the Deathskulls had invaded the system in search of Imperial weaponry to loot and add to his mighty stockpile of pilfered resources. The thieving xenos had blasted the planet's defences into scrap with an armada of haphazardly constructed Blitza Bommas and Dakkajets, and had then settled in the ruins to loot whatever they saw fit. The Imperium would not let the foul xenos invasion go uncontested and responded in kind, dispatching several full regiments of Imperial Guard to besiege the planet and win it back. Among the Jeron enlisted men rumours of the scale of battle ran rampant, with notions ranging from the logical to the absurd. Some claimed that that Saint Hezekaius, the Great Worker of Brovonius had sent them visions of the fight to come, or that they had heard from the Mordian Guardsmen they shared transport with, that the Black Templars had already begun to liberate the world on one of their endless crusades. Being an officer of the upper command echelons,Zano looked on these whispers with both weary tolerance and a little amusement. He possessed actual information regarding the scale of the siege, and in truth it was growing ever more extensive. Divisions from the 137th Cadian, the Mordian Fighting 65th, the Strabonite 9th Mechanized and Mogul Khamir's legendary Rough Riders were already engaged in near-constant action under the command of Lord Admiral Dallinesh Strod, a native of Brovonius himself. Best of all, an entire company of the Adeptus Astartes chapter known as the Hawk Lords were reported by the fleet Astropaths to be on their way. The war for Brovonius was not simply going to be the Illustrious 1st's first taste of combat; it was going to be the most glorious battle in the whole segmentum. And Colonel Zano had intended to be ready for it. In the 14 years since his well-to-do family had first purchased his commission in the Jeron PDF command, Zano had personally led the men of the 7th in thousands of drills and mock-battles. The men under his command knew him and respected him and even liked him. They had memorized his deployment patterns and strategies to the minutest detail, and were as eager for real war as he was. Fourteen years of peace seemed an incurably dull thing when the news-picts supplied a constant feed of the Imperium's thrilling victories across the segmentum and beyond. Truly, to be a soldier in the God-Emperor's own 41st millennium was to be a man with both purpose and destiny. At least that was what Zano felt. But so close to the long-awaited glory of war against the vile greenskin hordes, that destiny had been derailed.
As the Jeron Illustrious 1st was a new guard regiment, they did not yet possess enough transports to convey their 10,000 strong force to Brovonius. Two transport-cruisers from the Mordian 80th, en route to reinforce their fellow division on the Forgeworld had been diverted to pick up the Jeron men and bring them to Brovonius. There was little shame in that, and Zano secretly hoped that the 1st could perform with enough valour in the siege to merit being granted transport vessels of their own by the Imperial Navy when the fighting was over. In the meantime the Jeron men had been able to share the Mordian transport amicably, although truth be told they found the Iron Guard to be as cold as their regiment's name suggested. Still, the promise of battle kept spirits high and hopes higher, especially among Zano's men.
Or it had until the beacon had been detected.
The captain in charge of the transport, a taciturn naval veteran named Argus Whytelament, had brought Zano and the other three Jeron regimental colonels to his briefing room, informing them along with the ranking Mordian officers that his ship's Astropaths had picked up a weak distress beacon hailing from the mining colony on Valindril X, one of the ten small satellite worlds orbiting a red giant star between Jeron and Brovonius. Some manner of distortion was interfering with the transmission, leaving the message itself staggered and incomplete, but from what had been deciphered it was confirmed that beacon contained Inquisition clearance codes, under the authority of one Inquisitor Hagen of the Ordo Malleus, demanding military aide be sent to him at the mining colony with all due haste. The beacon had been activated only recently, and thus it was imperative to send a unit at once. Colonel Triphon, one of the Jeron officers and a curious one for as long as Zano had known him, had then asked what specific kind of aide was required. The beacon's message, or what could be deciphered from it, had been highly vague on that point. Yet a request from the Inquisition could not be ignored. Since the Mordian vessel was on its way to the siege, Captain Argus had elected to dispatch a single company to investigate and aid the Inquisitor. And that duty had fallen, the God-Emperor only knew why, to Colonel Zano and his men. After selecting the five platoons he felt best suited for the mission, two-hundred and thirty four men all told, and assigning his subordinate Lieutenant-Colonel Baswell to temporary command of the rest of his battalion, Zano had prepared himself in his quarters with a feeling of slight but pervading shame. Even now, only forty minutes before the assigned departure over Valindril, he was still in his quarters, oiling the teeth of his Chainsword for the third time, and mentally going over the myriad of deployment patterns he had practiced for rocky terrain. The information he had been given regarding Valindril was rather frugal, but he was resolved to use it to his best advantage. It was the largest of the star's moons, and its landscape dominated by vast canyons and ore-rich mountain ranges. Ceramite mines were plentiful, and a large mining colony which supplied Brovonius had been established there at least three-thousand years ago. There were no defence forces registered aside from the usual small militia. The colony's population was barely a hundred-thousand strong, just miners, their families and the local Ministorum personal. Apart from a series of raids by the Dark Eldar five hundred years past, which had been halted by the efforts of the Salamanders Space Marines chapter, there was absolutely nothing about the planet that Zano could see might merit the attention of the Inquisition. Yet from what could be deciphered of the beacon's mysterious message, Inquisitor Hagen had found something he needed the aide of the Imperial Guard in dealing with.
Zano shook his head. The Inquisition was a secretive body, utterly inscrutable and often quite terrifying to ordinary men. An Inquisitor had come to Jeron-Minor in his father's time, to investigate ancient ruins on the great southern plateaus of Jeron's smaller continent. They were just a series of tall rocks set in concentric patterns, often visited by travellers. The Inquisitor had ordered them bombed from orbit and all crops within a hundred-thousand miles radius to be burned. It had taken a major effort by the rest of the farming districts to cope with the loss, and Jeron-minor had barely made its quota of shipments to Brovonius that year. Zano wondered what this Inquisitor Hagen would be like, and whether or not he had diverted them away from an important battle in order to have them destroy some old xenos sculptures. It was dangerous to think so idly of the Inquisition, of course, but Zano found he couldn't help himself. Perhaps it was just pre-mission stress. Even if it turned out to be a trifling task, it would still be his first real assignment as a guard regiment. That merited some anxiety, did it not? Zano thought to himself.
His ruminations were interrupted at a knock at his door. Being on edge Zano was momentarily distracted and nicked a finger on the razor-edge of one of his chainsword's many triangular teeth. Swearing under his breath and putting his wounded digit in his mouth, the colonel searched for a bandage to bind it with while muttering "Enter." over his shoulder. With characteristically rigid step, his aide-de-camp, Master-Sergeant Tobin Grull, appeared in the doorway. He was clad in the Jeron Illustrious's new uniform, a well-tailored adaptation of their old PDF cream-white jodhpurs and sharp brown tunics, while his chromium breastplate and greaves positively gleamed. Grull was one of Zano's best assets, doggedly loyal and attentive to a fault. If he wasn't waiting on orders he was polishing his boots or his prized Power Fist, which gleamed even brighter than his armour in the single overhead light of the Colonel's quarters.
"The men are loaded up and ready to be sent planetside Colonel," he reported with a stiff salute. "Your Chimera is being checked over for a final time, but it will be ready when you come. The rest of the command squad are inside of it waiting."
"Fine, fine Grull," the Colonel said distractedly, bandaging the bleeding finger on his right hand.
"Do you need some assistance Colonel?" Grull asked helpfully, though still maintaining his sombre expression of attentive respect.
"No, I just had a slight accident. It is of no consequence. Tell the men I will be with them shortly."
"Yes sir. Very good sir," Grull nodded. But he did not leave, which Zano thought was odd.
"Is there something else Grull?" He inquired distractedly, rubbing his injured finger against his thumb to test it.
"I was merely wondering sir; do you think if we finish this Inquisitor's work for him quick enough we'll be able to make the siege with the rest of the regiment?" Grull asked. There was a hopeful note in his voice that Zano felt guilty at hearing. For he had to crush it, as he had had his own hopes of making the battle at Brovonius crushed at Captain Whytelament's orders.
"No, Grull. I'm sorry to say this but I doubt it very much," Zano sighed. "The Mordians don't want to leave one of their transports behind when they will need it at the Forgeworld. As soon as we're loaded off the lander will return to the ship, and we are to be left to handle the matter for the Inquisitor alone."
"We won't have any way to get back?" Grull asked in surprise.
"Well, there is a possibility we can commandeer some mining vessels after the mission is completed, or perhaps the Inquisitor can acquire us some means of making it to Brovonius, but I'm afraid I can't promise anything right now."
Grull bit back on whatever thoughts he might have had on the matter and nodded curtly, stiffening his upper lip.
"That's all right sir. You'll reckon something out, I'm sure," he said with genuine faith.
"I hope so Grull. I don't want to miss the war any more than you do," Zano assured the Sergeant. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he and his men were going to anyway. Once again a sense of resentment seemed to blossom in the back of his mind. Why him? Why his unit? He'd waited fourteen years for some real action, a real fight. To be plucked away from all that mere days before it could become a reality to be sent on an Inquisitor's errand instead was…
Zano shook his head, quelling his troubled thoughts. His feelings didn't matter. Orders were orders, and as sore as he felt about missing the siege, he knew that the beacon could not be ignored.
Perhaps there would even be a fight for his men on Valindril, as unlikely as that seemed.
The landing craft seemed to groan in discomfort as it entered the thin atmosphere of Valindril. There were no viewports in the solidly constructed vehicle, but Zano had glimpsed the moon before departure, as the Mordian ships had exited the warp and rested momentarily over the orange star and its curious moons. Valindril had seemed like a cloudy grey ball, unwelcoming and dull. As the landing craft reached the surface and came to slow, grinding halt, then opened its disembarking hatches to allow the men and few light vehicles of the company to exit, Colonel Zano felt his opinion would not easily change.
The Mordians had put them down on a flat expanse of rock, a single mile away from the facility where the Inquisitor's beacon was transmitting. The surroundings were gloomy and uninteresting. Mountains obscured the horizon at every turn. Great outcroppings of slate-coloured stone jutted out from the ground at irregular angles. The sky was moody and lightning wracked the clouds in the distance, sending rumbles of thunder through the mighty stone canyons. Charming, Zano thought to himself. There seemed to be no sign of life anywhere in the desolate terrain. Even the mining colony's transmission centre had refused to answer the Mordian transport's hails as they were approaching the moon. Static had been the only reply, possibly due to atmospheric distortion, or perhaps because some idling Mechanicus novitiate had fallen asleep at his post. It didn't really matter. The Jeron 1st's mission was to meet with the Inquisitor and provide support for his holy mission, not bandy words with the head overseer of a minor resource facility. Colonel Zano shifted uncomfortably and mentally chastised himself for the lapse in his thoughts. This mine provided materials for the Imperium's war-effort, and therefore each and every worker here played a part in the God-Emperor's plan, no matter how small. It was unfair to think ill of them merely because his unit had been directed away from the war to aid an Inquisitorial mission. Setting his shoulders, Zano stalked briskly back towards the members of his command squad.
Master-Sergeant Grull, Doctor Vangyre, the Medicae officer, Corporal Kellick with his long-range Vox system and Sergeant Atticus, the Company Standard bearer were all waiting for Zano in the rear of his personal Chimera transport, which was revving its engine near the lander's large embarkation point. The machine-spirit of the vehicle seemed eager to put its tracks on solid terrain soon. The robust carrier was painted in a grey-to-brown camouflage pattern and equipped with searchlights and an improved Vox-system for broadcasting orders. Zano had left the vehicle after the initial conference with his officers, assigning positions and orders to the platoon leaders, then had spent the rest of the descent to Valindril among the enlisted men of his company, inspecting their gear, bestowing words of caution or of confidence depending on where they were needed. Beside Zano's command Chimera, the Jeron were moving on foot. Three lightly armoured scout Sentinels rigged with multi-lasers took point at the head of the disembarking column, their lean mechanical legs carrying them forward with bird-like precision. A single Hellhound flame-tank rolled out after them, a potent but lightly armoured vehicle that would probably see no action unless it was required to burn down some offending overgrowth with its turret-mounted heavy flamer. If there were any plants which could survive on this grim vista, that was, Zano mused to himself. He pulled his tunic collar a little tighter, feeling a brisk breeze from outside the transport nip at his cheeks. The temperature on Valindril was unpleasantly cool, at least compared to the warm summers on Jeron that he and his men had left behind. Zano briefly wondered what the weather on Brovonius was like. As he stepped into the Chimera's rear access hatch, his command squad saluted.
"Are we ready sir? The Mordians want us off in a hurry, and I'd rather not rouse their ire." Grull informed him.
"Then we shall try not to delay them." Zano said cordially. "We're ready to go, Driver, take us out." From the forward compartment the Chimera's operator nodded and pushed the vehicle slowly forward. It took its place at the head of the Jeron line, a personal standard that Zano always followed. He would never ask his men to go into action while he stayed in the rear. An officer should set an example, he felt, and his Chimera would give the men of the 7th a point to rally around in case of ambush or sudden battle.
"If our coordinates are accurate, the beacon's location should be somewhere in the facility ahead of us, beyond that canyon. I want the Sentinel lance to scout the way before the rest of the company," Zano instructed. "We don't know that anything is wrong here, but since an Inquisitor of the Holy Ordo has seen fit to ask for our aid it seems prudent to proceed with caution."
Grull nodded in agreement and Corporal Kellick immediately voxed the Colonel's orders to the waiting Sentinels. Zano looked out a view-port in the Chimera's side to see the narrow-limbed walkers stalk forward across the harsh terrain, kicking up small clouds of loose soil with each step.
"Have the rest of the men form up for a fast march, Heavy weapons teams in the centre of the line, if you please," Zano continued. "And put Tirman's platoon on rearguard. If anything should happen I want those grenade launchers in a good position."
"What do you think we're in for sir?" Sargent Atticus asked, cradling the Jeron standard in his arms. The banner of the Illustrious 1st, 7th Company was a pair of crossed Las-rifles on a half-checkered field of blue and brown, and Atticus held it with tender care.
"I couldn't say," Zano shrugged. "With the Inquisition here it could be anything."
"What Ordo is he from? Do we know sir?" Vangyre inquired. The Medicae was an educated man from Jeron's upper-classes, much like Zano. He had questioning blue eyes, a smooth-featured face and a gentle but purposeful voice that helped calm wounded men whenever an accident had occurred in the Jeron's battle-drills or training exercises.
"Ordo Malleus. What do you suppose that means?"
"Not sure. That Inquisitor Phortinbras who ordered the plateau bombings was Ordo Xenos, if I recall correctly," Vangyre mused. "I suppose we're not going to be looking for alien ruins then."
"But what are we here for?" Atticus wondered.
"We'll learn that all in good time," Zano promised.
Outside of the Chimera's hull the last of the men had cleared the Mordian transport and the huge landing craft ignited its engines, which seemed to roar a woeful farewell to the men of the Jeron 7th as it climbed higher into the tempestuous Valindril sky and then disappeared into the thick, stormy clouds of the upper atmosphere. The Jeron were alone now, and alone they would remain until they found that beacon and the Inquisitor. Looking out the slit viewport in the Chimera's side, Zano watched his soldiers march purposefully behind the carrier. Despite his misgivings about the mission he was proud of his men. They marched with speed and precision, but remained aware of their surroundings. All those drills, all those simulations and exercises had not been for nothing. The month in the Gyleian Mountains, conducting cold weather and thin atmosphere warfare training. The hot, throat-parching weeks in the Kulekas Basin, practicing survival and reconnaissance. The pitched battles they had staged in the Durthlund Forests. 14 years of mock fighting. It had not been for nothing. Or so Zano hoped, but then his introspection was interrupted by the dull pinging of Kellick's Vox-set.
Kellick flicked a switch and held the listening gear to the side of his head. He looked up with a troubled expression. "Sir? It's the Sentinels. They've found something," he explained, handing the speaker and listener to his commander.
"Zano here, what is it?" The Colonel asked.
"Colonel?" buzzed the rasping vox-feed of the lead Sentinel pilot. "We've reached the outskirts of the mining facility. It looks deserted, but there's a wrecked shuttle here. You need to see this."
Zano stared in shock at the devastated wreck in front of him. It was an Aquila Lander; or rather it had once been one. Zano had only seen a craft of its make once before, in an information packet he had been given for a simulated rescue of VIPs. The ship was often used to transport wealthy, high-ranking or otherwise important individuals to a multitude of locations. It had a unmistakably unique wing design and raised canopy, making it look like a pilotable version of the holy emblem on Zano`s own peaked cap. If it hadn`t been for that signature shape though, Zano knew he would never have recognized it. The Lander was a smashed ruin. Handprints left in dried blood stains caked its battered surface. Dents and fractures were rent and gouged into the vessel's tormented surface at every point. One of the distinctive wings had been ripped off entirely and the vessel's original black coat of paint, signifying it as property of the Holy Inquisition, was barely visible beneath the damage. And yet the thing which bothered the colonel the most about the wreck was the utter absence of Las-scoring or other weapon-fire. He was not the only one who noticed.
"If I didn't know better, Colonel, I'd say this thing was smashed by hand," Sergeant Grull murmured at his side, the fingers of his power-fist flexing nervously.
"Hands," Zano corrected solemnly. "Lots of them."
"Who would be mad enough to do such a thing?" Vangyre asked. "And why?"
"I intend to find that out with all due haste," Zano said, straightening his shoulders and assuming a commanding air once again. "Order the men to investigate the settlement. Search pattern Sebastus. We may be dealing with traitors or secessionists. Perhaps the Inquisitor's presence here frightened the populace into a mob. Men can act in the strangest manner when the Inquisition examines them. Hidden feelings rise to the surface. Perhaps a rebellion was brewing here or…" Zano found his words trail off as an idea, a horrifying idea, struck him.
"Or…what sir?" Sgt Atticus asked in bewilderment.
"Never mind. Let's just get started searching that facility," Zano ordered.
The facility turned out to be built directly around the base of the predominant mountain in the area, a towering and ugly monument of stone that cast a dull shadow over the cluster of buildings at its base. Some thirty buildings, mostly square-set hab-structures and large storage buildings were built in a disorderly sprawl across the rocky ground. There were transport vehicles parked near an unloading yard which lay at the farthest side of the area, but no workers were present. The whole place seemed deserted and unnaturally so. The men were on edge now. Zano could see it in their eyes. Something was very wrong here.
"I want six groups of six men each to fan out and search these buildings. Look for people, clues. Anything to let us know what might have happened or where the Inquisitor might be."
Before the search parties could even begin to conduct a sweep of the area, a door was wrenched open. From the darkened interior of the hab-unit a single figure stumbled forward into the overcast light. Zano gasped. It was a man, clad in a shredded miner's coverall. His hands and boots were stained in bright red blood. He stared for a moment at the assembled soldiers in dull surprise.
"In the Emperor's name man, what happened here?" A trooper asked the stranger. Zano knew him as Guardsman Flince from Harrick's platoon. He was a good sort, and well-liked in his squad.
Flince barely had time to even cry out before the miner pounced onto him and bit into his throat.
It had taken eight guardsmen to restrain the berserk miner. Two had been badly clawed in the attempt and Sargent Harrick's nose and arm had broken. There hadn't been much that could be done for Guardsman Flince, but Vangyre had tried. His sleeves were still blood-stained from his efforts, but his ministrations had been in vain. The guardsman's body had been wrapped in a tarp and respectfully set inside of Zano's Chimera at the Colonel's insistence. Most of the men were in shock over the attack. The miner's unprovoked actions had been completely unexpected, and remained inexplicable. Zano had half considered shooting the wretch, but at the moment he was their only chance to find out what was going on here, so he had ordered the murderous miner roped to the side of a storage tank, where even now he strained against his bonds furiously, but did not speak. Four guardsmen trained their las-rifles on him while Vangyre tried to examine him to see if his condition was being caused by some malady. The rest of the Jeron examined the perimeter of the facility and began to carefully investigate the hab-units and storage structures. Zano had ordered a priority to be placed on the building the maddened worker had emerged from.
It did not take long for something to be found.
As Zano conferred with Grull, waiting for Vangyre to finish his inspection of the prisoner, a pale-faced corporal from Kurkson's platoon appeared, looking rather nauseated and unsteady on his feet.
"Did you find something?" Zano barked, more fiercely then he had meant to.
"Yes sir. We found bodies in one of the habs. More miners, but they-" The corporal bit his lip and closed his eyes. "They had no heads. Each one had been decapitated. We think it was an execution of sorts, possibly ritual in nature."
Zano turned and stared at the captured miner, who struggled against his bonds, foaming at the mouth and staring furiously through bloodshot eyes at his captors.
"Vangyre, what in Holy Terra is he afflicted by?" Zano asked as the Company Medicae walked towards him. "Is he mad? Is it some disease?"
"It was hard to examine him. Damn near bit me twice. He has signs of malnutrition and a lot of recent bruises and superficial cuts, but as far as I can tell it's not a physical malady he's suffering from. He seems to have had a psychotic breakdown, but I don't have the first clue as to what caused it. He won't speak at all. Just grunts and snarls."
"Perhaps I can get something out of him." Zano scowled. He was on edge. All the men were. They had trained for battle. Open warfare against an enemy army, or search and destroy action against rebels and insurrectionists. Tyranids, they had practiced for. Orks, they had anticipated. Even the mercurial Eldar had been simulated and prepared against. But investigative work? Interrogation of lunatics? It was not what the Jeron were meant for, and Zano found himself suppressing anger once again that he had been chosen for this task. As he approached the bound miner and glared down at him, he felt his anger intensify. The wretched murderer seemed to sense Zano's mood and seemed to struggle against his bonds even harder.
"My Name is Colonel Julius Zano of the Jeron Illustrious 1st Regiment, 7th Company." Zano glowered down. "I am here in search of a member of the holy Inquisition. We discovered his shuttle nearby, completely wrecked. Do you know how that happened? Do you know his whereabouts? Answer me and I may consider letting you live to face judgement for your crimes, instead of executing you on the spot."
Despite the threat in Zano's words, the miner seemed unfazed. His foam-specked lips pulled back into a sneer, but he still said nothing.
"Why did you murder your fellow workers?" Zano asked, angered by the worker's silence. "What cause could you have possibly had to do such a thing?"
"What cause?" The prisoner slurred. The words sounded thick in his mouth, as if he was forcing them out through sheer hate. Zano stepped back in surprise at the virulent tone, but the words the miner uttered next came as even more of a shock. A vile sentence uttered in a voice so fraught with zealous fanaticism that it made many of the Jeron quiver.
"Blood for the Blood God!" He roared, spitting blood-flecked foam with each profane word. "Skulls for the Throne of-!"
Zano whipped out his laspistol and shot the miner square in the face before he could finish his dread utterances. The colonel's pistol had been high-charged, and at such a close range the results were dramatic. The man's head literally exploded, spattering the container behind him with viscera, and the now-headless corpse slumped in its bonds, blood spurting from its ruined neck. Zano stared, and felt coldness inside that had nothing to do with the cool temperature of Valindril's atmosphere. None of the men had realized it, but the colonel had acted without thinking, instinctively killing at the sound of the cult mantra. Had he done it to prevent the cultist from spewing more words of malevolence at them, or had the cry somehow unleashed his desire to kill? As uneasy as it made him feel to admit it, Zano didn't know. All he did know was that he couldn't stand there, frozen with indecision in front of his men. He turned around to address them, licked his dry lips, cleared his throat and spoke as loud as and clearly as he could.
"This world has been poisoned by the lies of the Archenemy." Zano announced, struggling to keep his voice from trembling. "We must find the source of this madness and stop it. We must find the inquisitor. Only he will know what to do."
"How are we going to find him sir?" A visibly shaken Grull asked. He seemed unable to draw his eyes away from the corpse of the miner.
"First we find that beacon. Corporal Kellick? Do you have a steady fix on its location yet?"
"I-It's difficult to say, sir," The Vox-operator stuttered, fumbling with his equipment. A steady clicking sound was coming from the hand-held machine.
"Nevertheless, say it," Zano ordered.
"The atmospheric distortions coupled with the area's geography are making it hard to pin-point the exact location, but if I had to make a guess I would say it's transmitting from underground. Probably from within that mountain, beyond the next rise."
"In the mines," Zano sighed, not looking forward to what would come next. "All right. Grull, spread the men out. Find some maps or charts. Scour the perimeter and make certain there are no more of these heretic madmen around. I want to be down in those tunnels and chatting with our Inquisitor in the next hour."
If he is still alive, that is. The Colonel thought grimly.