Chapter Two
A Friend in Need
Date: 201.M41
Time: 0400 hours
Place: Emperor's Light, orbit of Turek
"I repeat. This is Inquisitor Alexandros Constantin Hourn of the Emperor's Light. You are to stand down all defences immediately and prepare for the arrival of Inquisitorial forces. If you do not acknowledge that you have received this message I will be forced to take that as a refusal to comply."
There was no answer. Nothing but static, that was. Gazing out of the transparent glass that served as a viewing screen, Alexandros' sight of Turek was partially obscured by the large, ominous space station that hung in orbit of the planet.
Though the space station was Imperial by designation, any sign of that allegiance seemed to have been removed. The double-headed eagle – the very symbol of the Imperium of Man itself – was gone from the hull, but traces still remained here and there. It looked as though someone had clawed it off, using claws inhuman in size or origin. Where once Alexandros knew the station had been whole there were now huge gashes, again looking as though they were made by impossible claws, and entire sections of the hull were missing. They weren't half-attached, or floating gently in the darkness around the station. They simply weren't there.
The sight of the wounded station was enough to send a shiver down Alexandros' spine.
That wasn't an easy thing to do.
"I grow tired of this waiting," a voice growled. Turning to face the speaker, Alexandros' did his best not to grit his teeth in annoyance. Lutrex was a difficult man to stay calm with at the best of times, let alone when he was in a foul mood. "I'm going."
There were two sides to Lutrex; his normal persona and his intolerable one. When he was calm he was bearable; gruff and to the point, quick to jump to the easiest conclusion and always willing to see the worst in any person or situation, but logical and capable of a rational discussion. His intolerable mood usually reared its head when he was angry. He became impatient, almost bloodthirsty in his desire for action, unable to sit still and more than ready to turn a small problem into a sector-wide one.
Today was one of those days when he was intolerable. But for Alexandros, one of his colleagues, the intolerable had long since become merely difficult.
"No," Alexandros replied, holding Lutrex's icy stare. "We wait. Do not forget, Beatrix is on that station. I will not risk her life to satiate your desire for action." There was a sound behind Alexandros, one he knew all too well. Whenever the captain of the Emperor's Light had something to report, and Alexandros' was already in conversation, he would give a small cough. But Alexandros dared not turn to speak to him; the confrontation with Lutrex was priority.
It wasn't that he expected his colleague to attack him, not physically at least. It was more a case of not wanting to tempt fate. Alexandros rarely conversed with Lutrex; any operation requiring them both to be present usually meant more than one ship being used, and they would both be on different vessels. But the Lord Inquisitor had assigned only the Emperor's Light to this particular operation, forcing the two to share the same living space for the four week journey.
Alexandros was concerned Lutrex's impatience was about to boil over, after a month pent up.
It was to his surprise that the dark-skinned inquisitor, whilst still holding Alexandros' gaze, tilted his head ever so slightly. Agreement? This was something new.
"Fine. I still don't see why we sent Le Mayn ahead. She's a bureaucrat, not a fighter."
"Beatrix is a diplomat, Lutrex, and the finest among us. You know that. And we didn't give her this assignment; the Lord Inquisitor sent her ahead of us to see if this could be resolved without us needing to be involved. Now we need to rescue her."
Lutrex snorted. The sound was always something Alexandros had compared to that of a person with augmetics; it seemed more mechanic than human. Alexandros finally turned his back to his colleague, even as Lutrex replied.
"Without our involvement? Please. These heretics were never going to submit just because Le Mayn asked them to. All we've done is put one of our own in harm's way trying to avoid an outcome that was inevitable from the start."
Alexandros was tempted to comment on the irregularity of Lutrex waxing philosophical, but chose instead to incline his head to the waiting captain.
Darmos was a small man, much smaller than either of his Inquisitorial superiors. Centuries of living had weakened his frame, causing him to hunch and move aided by either a cane or a grav-chair. His head was bald but for a few thin wisps of white, and liver spots coloured his hands and skull. His appearance, however, was deceiving.
There was a reason that Darmos was still captain of an Inquisitorial vessel at the age of four hundred and six. The art of command was one that came easily to him. Whether it was a small squadron of escorts or a flotilla of grand cruisers made no difference; Darmos would utilize his amazing adaptive capabilities to fit any scenario and come out victorious. Only twice in his career had the hunched captain been bested; first by a Necron fleet and then during the twelfth Black Crusade, when his fleet was beset on all sides by the ships of the Arch-Enemy. Both times he had survived, along with a few other ships, and lived to wreak vengeance on those who had wounded his reputation.
This little man, whom so many dismissed at first glance as nothing more than a helpless savant or historian, had been subjected to all the life-extending treatments the Inquisition could get their hands on. His expertise was without question, his talent invaluable. Yet he was humble, never forgetful of his place as a servant of the Inquisition and its membership.
"The survey is complete," Darmos wheezed, his shaking hand pushing a data-slate in Alexandros' direction. "Four defence monitors, three Falchion escorts, two Dauntless light cruisers and a larger vessel that our archives cannot pin down."
That perplexed Alexandros. What vessel could possibly be found in orbit of an Imperial planet, yet not in an archive compiled by the Imperial Fleet?
"Show me."
Following the captain to the nearest station, the two watched quietly as the crewman brought up a more detailed description of the unknown vessel. Line upon line of information passed before Alexandros' eyes, but it was only when the faint outline was produced, accompanied by brief reports of distress felt by the psykers on the Emperor's Light when they looked towards the waiting defence fleet, that the Inquisitor knew the vessel.
Once more he turned to Lutrex who, rightly, was stood nearby waiting for Alexandros to brief him.
"We have a serious problem. That ship," he waved his hand almost dismissively at the screen, still showing the outline of the vessel some several thousand kilometres ahead. "Is a demonship. Judging by the outline it may once have resembled something close to a Hades-class heavy cruiser, but if you combine the changed physical appearance with the reports of our psykers, the picture becomes clear."
It was only when he'd finished that Alexandros realised the bridge had fallen silent, but for the crewman in front of him, making notes in the database. That was smart; he was making records for future Inquisitors, so that they weren't left in the same situation the Emperor's Light would have been but for Alexandros' presence. Even Lutrex seemed unable to comprehend what he was being told, but that inability to speak lasted only a few seconds longer.
Then his impatience won out.
"Can we beat it?"
His words gave Alexandros' pause for thought. Among his colleagues his expertise was the same as Darmos'; he was the naval expert. That was why Darmos, though technically the captain of the Emperor's Light, willingly deferred to Alexandros. That and his career as an Inquisitor. But the question was not one he could readily answer, and not with a certainty.
"I can't say. We have our own protection against any warp energies they might throw at us, but if the demonship and the defence fleet combine their firepower, it might just be enough to bring us down."
That was when the conversation devolved into a shouting match. Lutrex immediately went on the offensive, arguing they should strike while they had a chance and bring down the smaller vessels, giving him time to launch his boarding parties. Darmos countered, arguing quite brazenly that it was foolish to charge in head first when the demonship most likely had longer range than they did, and would be striking at them long before they got within firing range. Even Alexandros, usually calm, found himself playing devil's advocate and launching a tirade at both, all the while trying to think of a viable solution.
It took the crack of a cane against the cold steel of the bridge to quieten all three. Their eyes and attention turned to a second hunched figure, one much younger than Darmos but just as wise.
"The orbital weapons platforms."
At that moment Alexandros was the most grateful he'd ever been to have a savant like Brastor Teem. Over a century old and with a knowledge more suited to general application – and of course the work of the Ordo Malleus – he had still managed to see what two Inquisitors and a naval captain had missed.
Their way in.
