Iora, Present Day
"Good evening, Miss Seeker." Louk gestured for her to join him. His mysterious remembrancer had moved in with them that morning, her only baggage being a simple mesh duffel bag. She was proving to be a welcome addition to the household, though she remained mostly in her room and did not take food with them. And she spoke little to them too, preferring to listen rather than speak. That was the way of the remebrancers, after all. Do not be seen, but see everything. He wondered what she looked like, under those stuffy robes. Not out of any carnal desires, he had long since lost any interest in pleasures of the flesh. It was spoiled to him now. But he had always retained his eye for beauty, and it was a shame, in his mind, that she remained hidden away.
When she did emerge, though always entombed in her heavy robes, the house seemed to warm at her presence. The lights shone brighter, the food taster sweeter. Even Jaycel's grimace seemed a touch less severe. Truly, she was a mystery to him.
And she was clearly a Seeker in more than name. The first thing she had done in her room was to discover and eliminate the various recording devices Jaycel had installed. She hadn't missed a single one, and it had taken her less than a half hour to remove them all. Louk was so impressed he forbade Jaycel from trying to put in more. It would be a waste of resources, and he doubted she was any sort of threat. A second attempt might insult her.
He had been sitting in his chair for an hour now. Ordinarily the time would have passed by in a blur, but he found himself to be counting the minutes, waiting, wanting her to arrive. It had been so long since he had someone who would sit and listen to him. He liked it far more than he was willing to admit.
At last Seeker had come out onto the patio with her stylus and her notepad. She said nothing. Slipping into her chair opposite his, she spent a moment adjusting in her seat before looking up at him expectantly. Well, he hoped it was expectantly. Her visor hid her eyes. What color were they? He liked to imagine they were blue. Blue eyes had always been his favorite.
"Still with me, I see" he mumbled. Seeker cocked her head to one side as if the question was ridiculous. "Just a little joke."
"Ah." She nodded her head, but gave no hint as to her own thoughts. Sighing quietly, Louk shook his head and turned back to the mountains.
"A one-track mind, you have." He lifted a hand and pointed. "You see that ravine there. That was where we attacked. That was where I snuck through the enemy's lines."
Night of the Assault
Shannegh slipped out of the shadows and fell in behind the squad of soldiers as they marched past. He had left the Inquisitor's side just after midnight. By the time he snuck up the slope the sentries were nearing replacement. They had been easy to sneak around. He just waited for their eyes to start drooping, their postures to relax at the thought of the incoming shift, and eased on by them. Not a soul noticed him. Once inside their lines he lurked about, getting a feel for the way the mercenaries moved. There was a distinct air of unease about, as was natural considering their position. Their little war was drawing to it inevitable end. He wagered that many of these mercenaries had not thought they would be facing the Imperial Guard when they signed up.
After spending an hour adapting to the way the men walked, talked, and acted he decided that the boldest approach would prove the easiest. There were simply too many men about for him to have a chance sneaking around, and no one minded a man on a mission. If anyone stopped him he would claim to be looking for more materials to shore up the defenses. Most of the men were doing that. Those not on guard duty at least.
The longer he walked alongside the men, the more worried he became for the Imperial forces below. Pillboxes and fortified positions littered the mountainside. If there was a bed-sized spread of even ground, a bolter or stubber had it covered. Most of the weapons appeared well-worn and scratched up from being dragged back as their lines collapsed, but several appeared unfired and glistened with cleaning oils. Engineers moved through the rougher patches, placing mines and tripwires and marking their locations with little red flags until it came time to activate them. Squads of soldiers lounged about at their stations, armed to the teeth with full flak armor and lasguns. He had not seen these sorts down below. This as the core of the defense, the elite guard. The Imperials still had a long way to go before they cracked the defenders.
Every so often he passed a gun emplacement. Unlike the Imperials, the defenders kept their artillery spread out instead of clustered in batteries. It worked to minimize the effectiveness of Imperial air strikes, and made it hard to pinpoint their location for counter-battery fire. Each gun had a working crew of twelve men attached to it, though half appeared as little more than extra hands to secure the cannons and fetch supplies. The larger guns lay silent now; the majority of Imperial forces had advanced below their field of fire.
The sheer amount of firepower the defenders had stockpiled staggered him. The Eldar had been prepared. Their defenses were so incredibly thorough and interconnected that he began to have serious doubts about the sufficiency of the current Imperial forces. They were about as entrenched as they could be. Hell, they might have been able to hold off Space Marines for a while. Had the Eldar known this would happen? Or worse, had they allowed themselves to be caught? Shannegh knew better than to overestimate the xenos, but everything he saw pointed to the Eldars' foreknowledge. And this was only their human defenses. What sort of sorcery did they have planned for when the Imperials finally broke through?
He was also surprised by the amount of men he saw. One would have thought they'd be running out of troops by now. The mountains were not very large and nine months of siege should have whittled them down to mere hundreds. Judging by the numbers he saw running about they must have had a few thousand in reserve still, men that hadn't even come into contact with the Imperial Guard forces. Intelligence had missed this completely. The nagging question in his head made a cold sweat threaten to break. How in all that was holy had they hid this many men and this much equipment? According to the casualty figures, and he took it as a given that they were padded, the enemy had almost an entire division's worth of soldiers and machinery. They might as well have been a Guard division minus the tank support. He could not fathom the power of sorcery it took to hide this many people, not to mention the colossal amounts of food and equipment needed to keep them going.
That level of sorcery made him nervous.
His tour of the defenses revealed everything he feared he would find except for the most obvious: where were the Eldar themselves? He had expected to spot them all over, parading around with their stiff-necked arrogance, ordering the mercenaries about their tasks, and generally being the pompous asses that he had heard so much about. They might be a sneaky race, but they were also supposed to be the most conceited xenos that could be found. Surely they would have been out organizing the defenses.
Or maybe they worked entirely through intermediaries. Dozens of officer-types could be found all over. Some wore uniforms, others didn't, but they could be identified by the black bands wrapping around their upper left arms. They shouted and gestured with their weapons, sending men scurrying to their duties in record time. Would have made Imperial lieutenants jealous with the way their soldiers leapt to it. Still, he had yet to lay eyes on a single Eldar. Shannegh did not know if he should be relieved or disappointed by that oddity. On the one hand, it meant he did not have to fear being psychically discovered by a watching xenos. On the other hand, where the hell were they? It was a pretty damn important variable that he did not enjoy wondering about.
At last he came to an entrance into the deeper caves. Long ago the Teneans had gone through a savage period of war between the city-states. Fearing a nuclear strike, the Iorans had prepared bomb shelters in these mountains. The Eldar had appropriated them for their own purposes. The massive blastproof gate had been raised to allow traffic through, but automated turrets tracked those going in and out. Three guards stood on either side of the entrance, though they seemed to have little interest in their duties. It wasn't like the Imperials were going to be sneaking spies in or anything, right? Shannegh grinned faintly and broke off from the squad and fell in with a cluster of men shuffling towards the gate. Most were wounded and unarmed. He assumed they had left their weapons behind for their comrades to use. Seeing this, he stayed in the rear and held his lascarbine against his thigh. Hopefully they wouldn't notice, but if they did he doubted it would be a problem.
A pair of Leman Russ tanks could have driven through the gate sponson-to-sponson. While there appeared to be no official separation for inflow and outflow, what vehicles he saw clung to the outsides while men walked in the middle. A steady stream of trucks crawled out of the caves, laden with artillery shells, ammunition crates, and other war utilities. Each truck that drove by meant another score or more of dead Guardsmen. He stopped counting when he crossed under the gate. The thought was too morbid to continue entertaining.
Overhead illumination lights guided their path. Sticking with the main flow, he noted that every kilometer or so the tunnel branched. At the third such branch they joined another stream of men and trucks. It encouraged him to see that most of the traffic was coming towards him. That meant he was closing in on the center. The urge to storm on ahead weighed heavily on him, but he resisted and remained with the wounded. Anything out of the ordinary could get him into trouble.
He walked for what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than five kilometers. The mountain was only so large and this path did very little winding. His first clue that they were about to exit the tunnel came in the form of growing lights before them. Whatever it was ahead, it was bright as a sunny day. He feared for a moment he had overshot and reached the other side of the mountain, but as they drew nearer his ears picked up on far too much noise and chatter to have been a frontline position. The enemy was smarter than that. No, this was the conclave area. Grim satisfaction soothed his aching nerves, and he tipped his head back a little to get a better view.
The tunnel came out at an entrance half a kilometer above the conclave. There was a plateau large enough for a Thunderhawk to land and unload it cargo, then their path took a sharp left and began zigzagging its way to the ground floor. Shannegh took note of it all absently. His attention stole immediately to the sight before him. The Iorans had hollowed out most of the mountain and transplanted their own little city in its place. It was designed in a series of concentric circles culminating in a central tower that was a miniaturized, meaning only twenty-storey, replica of the same Senate Tower in Iora. Towering ten-storey apartment habs presented a ring around the edge of the city. Just inside lay hydroponic farms and greenhouses. Inwards of that came what he assumed were the offices and work places. The innermost ring contained what appeared to be two half-sized factories and three different barracks structures. Eighty thousand people could have fit in this city inside the mountain.
"That explains the numbers" he murmured to himself. The city appeared entirely self-sufficient, even with its own mine at the bottom of the ramp they were descending. He could see hundreds of workers dragging out wagons filled with raw ore and dumping them straight into chutes that led over to a refinery. Armed men formed a ring around the mine area, facing inwards. Surprised, Shannegh looked on and spotted several officers with whips moving about the throng of workers. Every so often a whip cracked and a miner stumbled. No one stopped to help the fallen. He did not know if those miners were native Teneans, slaves from off-planet or malcontents. He didn't like it either way.
When his group reached the bottom of the ramp he caught his first glimpse of the mysterious xenos warriors. Four tall figures clad in white armor watched over the trail of men and vehicles. Their bullet-shaped helmets twitched back and forth as they searched the passing bodies. The brow of their helms loomed over their eyepieces, giving the glowing green lenses sunken and menacing attitudes. Every so often one of the xenos warriors would stalk into the throng and pull a startled person free. Angry words would be exchanged before the man was shoved back into the crowd and continued on.
From a distance they appeared just as imposing and ominous as Shannegh thought they would be. When one looked his way he shrank back into the crowd and shifted over to put a few more bodies between them. He knew just enough about the Eldar to suspect that any of those warriors could by a psyker. They were supposed to have incredible rates of witches among their people.
It took them fifteen minutes to reach the ground floor. He prayed the entire way down, hoping for some bit of luck to get him past the xenos guards. As much as he had prepared for this, he had no idea how to handle the Eldar. What little he knew came out of redacted documents Helsing had deigned to give him. And a couple that he had stolen, but even that struck him as little more than Imperial propaganda. The Eldar's most powerful warriors were women, hah! Had to be a lie.
Seeing that there was too much scrutiny at the foot of the ramp, he drew his lascarbine out from under his appropriated cloak and slung it over his shoulder. The camo-cloak would have drawn too much attention here, so he had nabbed a rucksack and packed it in, switching the precious material for a rough fabric poncho he found hanging out to dry. The pistol had been shoved in the back of his pants and he had rolled his pant legs over the kopis, leaving it bare against his leg. The uncomfortable touch of metal against his bare skin made him shiver from time to time. It reminded him too much of the metal encircling his spine.
When it came time for him to pass the Eldar warriors he ducked his head and pushed on through. The man to his left was dragged out of the throng for questioning, and the commotion allowed him to sneak a closer look at the xenos. What he saw left him so confused he nearly stopped walking.
They weren't xenos. The armor was xenos, the weapons were xenos, but the beings before him were not Eldar. Though slender and tall, the armored suits did not sit well on them and there were gaps between the plates. The skin under those gaps was tanned and hairy. The Eldar were supposed to be a fair-skinned and mostly hairless race. And they spoke in the guttural Low Gothic he instantly spotted from life in an underhive. Those were humans wearing the xenos armor. Glancing around at the others, he confirmed that none of the supposed Eldar warriors were indeed Eldar.
Where were the real Eldar?
He remembered to keep moving before he caused a ruckus. Carrying on, he stayed with the stream until it disintegrated just inside the first line of habs. Men went everywhere, some seeking rest, others medical aide, others carried on with their orders. Knowing he was on a timeline, Shannegh continued towards the center of the city. He could sight-see after he found a few targets. A high vantage point would have been good for scouting the place, but he had spent the walk down the ramp surveying the city. By now he possessed a fairly good map in his mind. And the city was hardly laid out in a confusing manner.
He walked for the better part of an hour before reaching the area that had initially been planned as a marketplace. From above he saw that this ring of the city was composed of rounded squares each capable of holding three thousand men in parade formation. It seemed now that each square had been transformed into either a medical, communications, or chow facility. The square immediately to the right of the main road held nothing but longs rows of benched tables with chow lines surrounding them. At least two hundred men sat around the tables, eating and talking in small groups. His stomach rumbled at the smell of food. He had been eating field rations for two days now, and he hungered for a real meal. Deciding that he could afford the detour, he cut off the road and jumped in line.
The cooks slapped a ladleful of mushy gravy and a single serving of carrots onto his platter. The only drink they had was water, and even that was rationed to half a cup. Shannegh felt at least a bit of satisfaction knowing that they were running low on food. All the ammunition in the galaxy couldn't help if they starved to death. But then again, they would be growing desperate now. Hopefully that would lead some to surrender.
He took a seat within hearing range of a few groups, eager to listen in for information. It was mostly typical soldier talk: rampant discontent with the situation, bragging of past battles, commiserating about the lack of eligible women, and bitching about the food. That last one he completely agreed with. The much on his plate was hardly edible. He had to choke it down with the little water he had been issued, and the carrots were tougher than rocks. When he finished his platter Shannegh realized he was hungrier than when he had first walked in.
The only useful bit of news he picked out of the grumbling was that not much had been heard from the Senate Tower in the past few days, and the men seemed more than keen to gripe about the Eldar out loud. They weren't even subtle about it, which would have struck him as dangerous except that he still had not seen a single true Eldar. Every so often he saw a human in Eldar armor prowling about, but never an actual xenos. Well, not an actual Eldar. He spotted a couple other xenos types wandering about, massive blue-furred apelike creatures. The humans went out of their way to avoid those. That was another important piece of information he made sure to remember.
His meal done, Shannegh saw no more reason to stick around. That would only invite trouble. He rose from the bench and looked around for a place to deliver his empty dishes.
"Going my way?" A slim hand crept down his arm until it gripped his wrist. Startled, Shannegh turned towards the speaker. The Scintillan ex-body slave smiled impishly at him with her glittering black eyes. The sharp point of a dagger tickled his side, hidden from sight by his own cloak. "Let's take a walk, handsome. Leave the platter."
She nudged gently with the dagger. Realizing that he had nothing to gain by resisting, Shannegh obeyed. They walked away from the tables and out of the square. No one took notice of their departure or of the fact that they moved into a little side alley instead of onto the main road. The woman pushed him along until they were well into the alley and away from windows. Her hand on his wrist yanked him forward and she shoved him into the wall. Shannegh caught himself with both hands and came back swinging, but she ducked under his fist with a dancer's grace. Suddenly her dagger pressed his throat. Exerting just a touch of pressure, she forced his chin up and eased him back against the wall.
"Easy there" she murmured. "Hands where I can see them."
He reluctantly lifted his hands into the air on either side of his head. The woman did not break his gaze. Her free hand patted him down, finding his weapons but not taking them away. When she finished searching him she nodded in satisfaction.
"Right, then. I know your face but I can't remember your name. Who do you serve?"
"The Inquisition, same as you" Shannegh growled. She grimaced and pressed the blade harder against his throat. He rose to his toes to keep it from leaving a mark. "Someone's gonna notice a big red line on my throat, you know."
"Give me a name" she hissed. "Because if you give me the wrong one then you won't have to worry about someone finding that mark. They'll be finding your severed head."
"Helsing." Shannegh tensed his body, ready to spring on the woman if she tried anything. He was fairly confident he could knock her dagger from his throat before she could slice it, but after that it would be a toss-up. A fight would serve no one's interests.
Thankfully, the woman's eyes brightened at the name. The dagger fell away and she took a step back. A sheepish grin stole across her face and she held out her hand.
"And I serve Farragut. We are of like mission here."
"You've got a funny way of showing it" Shannegh muttered as he massaged his throat. He spent a moment looking her over, admiring the tight fit of her leather and chainmail armor. It was a serious suit, not the sort of dainty girl-armor he had seen other women wear into combat. Purely functional without a hint of adjustment towards her more attractive attributes. She had done a good job minimizing her femininity. Her lustrous black hair had been slashed to a boyish cut, and her face was smeared with dirt-makeup to hide her delicate features. It took one look to see that battle was not her specialty. She had a laspistol shoved into a shoulder holster and the dagger in her hand, but other than that she was unarmed.
"Louk" he said, taking her hand. "And you are?"
"Getta." She laughed all of the sudden, putting her dagger away in its scabbard at her hip as she did. "Now I remember. You're the one that kept spying on me when I bathed back at camp."
"Entirely guilty" he said without a hint of shame. He turned away from the square and motioned for her to come along. She walked alongside him, her hands swinging freely and away from her weapons. "So how long have you been down here?"
"Half the morning" she said. They slipped out of the alley and took to the main road. The level of traffic was lighter here, but just heavy enough for them to not draw attention. "I came up last night and slept in the tunnels. You?"
"A little less. Just got into town, so to speak."
"How is your knowledge of our friends?"
"Bordering somewhere between nil and nothing."
"Then I will take the lead. I know a fair bit about them."
"I was just about to say 'Ladies first'."
She rolled her eyes. 'I've scouted the outer rings and found nothing of real value. The majority of their leadership appears to be concentrated in the Senate Tower."
"Any sign of commo?"
"Everywhere. They had redundant communications stations. Blow one and there are two more waiting for it."
"Xenos tech?"
"Haven't found much. I think they keep it all in the tower. Most of it, anyways."
They spent the better portion of four hours moving through the streets. At Getta's advice they walked each ring of the city, checking every building and seeing what they could see. Lots of activity, plenty of low level targets, and absolutely nothing that garnered serious attention. It was as if the Eldar didn't exist.
There was a checkpoint to get into the plaza around the replica Senate Tower. Shannegh hesitated at the sight, wondering how they would get through. Was it DNA-scanned, password, secret handshake…? Getta reassured him that she could handle it, so at her insistence they made their way towards the guards. Most wore flak armor and carried heavy weapons: grenade launchers and flamethrowers and the like. A single xenos creature that he had never seen before accompanied them. It was a tall and gangly thing with two sets of arms and long double-jointed legs. Its body shined nearly translucent in the soft light. He could see its organs pumping and twisting in its gut and legs, but the creature carried two massive swords that each could have split a truck in half. And it wore no armor either, which instantly upped his estimation of the xenos' fighting skills.
"Good morning" Getta chimed at the first guard to approach them. Shrugging her soldierly posture away like a cloak, she slipped straight into a agriworlder-twang complete with lively bouncing to her step and a playful running of her tongue against her teeth. She gave the man a cheerful wink and made a show of wiping some of the grit from her face. A very familiar look stole across the guard's face for a moment when the man recognized that the person before him was a woman. "I've got to see Colonel Russo. Mind if we pass by?"
"We ain't been told 'bout no chickie comin' through." The man tore his eyes away from her and looked Shannegh over. "Who's he?"
"This is Remy" Getta said quickly, cutting Shannegh off before he could speak. "He's my… confidante, if you know what I mean."
The man clearly didn't know what the word meant, but he nodded along with her and raised an eyebrow in what he thought must have been an appraising manner. "Confi… yeah, sounds a'right. But we ain't heard anything 'bout you. Whad'ja say yer name is?"
"Polly, sweet thing."
Some kind of light burst in the man's scrawny little brain. His eyes widened a touch and he straightened up, hands flitting about to tuck his jacket down tighter and make his clothing more presentable. The dour grimace on his face became one of hopeful doe-eyed admiration.
"Yes ma', we's see you through." He turned back to the guards and waved for them to step aside. "They's clear, boys. Is Polly ta see the Colonel."
Shannegh kept the wonder from his face as the guards leapt in their skins. Suddenly they were surrounded by eager smiles. The attention fell solely on Getta, and she handled it like a pro. Flashing a grin there, winking here, patting a cheek, until they made their way past the checkpoint and the guards had to return to their posts. Getta turned back to them and blew a kiss, which made the men all blush and get to muttering in clusters over it.
It took a whole lot of effort to wait until they were out of hearing range.
"Okay, what the fecking hell was that?"
The Scintillan smirked and tucked her hand back through his arm. "I overheard a few names while I was scoping the place out. Thought they'd do the trick."
"I figured that much out" Shannegh snapped. He cast a nervous look back at the receding checkpoint. "But who the hell is Colonel Russo and what's a Polly?"
Her grin grew impish. "Colonel Russo is the chief human commander. Most of the men are his. 88th Kairn Penal Legion."
"They're Penals?" Shannegh groaned. "Guess that explains why they fight so hard. Not only are they looking at aiding the xenos, but they've already had strikes on their records. They're more fecked than a Commissar in an Ork camp."
"Yes, well, what did you expect?"
"More Eldar, that's for damn sure. I haven't spotted a single one of those pointy-eared bastards yet."
"Neither have I" she murmured. Her free hand came up and played with the lace of her leather chestpiece."That has been bothering me somewhat."
"Think they're all in…" Shannegh stopped walking and pulled her suddenly towards an indented corner on one of the nearby buildings. Clamping a hand over her mouth to be safe, he pressed himself over her as far into the shadows as they could go. Getta did not struggle, though her head twisted to try and see what he had seen. When she saw it her body stiffened and she even stopped breathing.
Three buildings down, opposite the Senate Tower's western entrance, stood an armored but relatively unremarkable one storey structure. The walls were painted a dull reddish-brown color to blend in with the interior of the mountain, and no significant antennas or bulky machinery qualified it as an obvious target. But two things had made Shannegh notice it. One, it had no windows which meant it was a secured building. And two, a ghostly pale apparition had just stalked out of the structure's door. The being was everything Shannegh had thought an Eldar would be. Incredibly tall, with skin so white it might have been blended naked in fresh snow, with long pointed ears and an angular, haughty face that played a mockery of a human one. The xenos warrior walked with graceful, determined steps as it crossed the distance between the building and the Senate Tower with a jogging man's speed. Its pale eyes burned with such fire and intensity that Shannegh could see it from where they stood a hundred meters away.
But something about that Eldar struck him as wrong. This one wore nothing like the armor that he had seen by the ramp to the city. Instead of heavy, body-covering mesh plate armor the xenos wore scaled black pieces that protected the vital organs while leaving plenty of bare flesh. Dozens of scars decorated that exposed skin, and he was fairly certain the xenos were supposed to be strict on keeping their bodies all nice and clean. Instead of a xenos carbine he wore a brace of slender but odd-shaped pistols on his hips and wore what looked like a whip wrapped around his thin waist. In Shannegh's opinion he looked more like a slaver than a fighter.
"That's one of them" he hissed to Getta. The Scintillan nodded against the hand over her mouth. Despite her earlier perkiness, terror filled her eyes at the sight of such a creature. She eased a hand up to the butt of her laspistol. "Easy. Let it go."
The xenos figure disappeared into the Senate Tower. Moving back out of the corner, Shannegh released Getta and advanced towards the building. This was his first sighting of a real Eldar. It was safe to say his curiosity had been piqued and now he wanted to know what had drawn the reclusive xenos out into the open. Something important had to be in there.
"What are you doing" Getta hissed. She walked at his side, hands clenched and tucked under her armpits to prevent them from shaking. "Are you trying to get us killed? There could be more Eldar in there."
"I just want to take a look" he promised.
"My orders were to remain out of contact."
"As were mine." Shannegh looked back at her and shrugged. "What's your point?"
"Are you planning on going in there?" The disbelief showed on her face. "We should just mark it and move on."
"But we have no idea what's inside. For all we know that's the xenos shithouse. How'd Inquisitor Farragut appreciate taking time out of the battle and hunt to go stare at alien bombers?"
"You're being childish" she snapped. Her anger wavered as Shannegh approached the door and studied it. The xenos had not shut it all the way. Motioning for her to stay quiet, he eased over and placed his ear to the opening. Getta did likewise after a moment's hesitation. Ears burning, they listened to the voices inside.
"… telling ya, those black one's sure as cut ya. They's got wicked souls, if them aliens even got souls."
"Wot'sit matter? The Guardies are coming, sure 'nough. Col' Russo got us inna…hic… inna nasty corner. We ain't getting' away. Should… hic… have some fun 'fore that happens."
"You 'eard the boss's orders. No touchin' the Eldar."
Shannegh shot Getta a quizzical look. She returned it, one eyebrow cocked in a delicate but inquisitive manner. What was going on in this city?
"Like anyun'd miss a couple of 'em. There's… hic… plenny more. Me knife's getting restless, not being used an' all. Needs sum blood ta sharpen it."
"Orders is orders! Put dat knife away 'fore I shove it up ya arse."
Shannegh casually reached behind his back and drew the autopistol. His companion saw the motion and her eyes widened in shock. Holding up a finger to remind her to be silent, he tapped the muffle and pointed inside. Something akin to dismay crossed her face, and she gave him a nasty look. But her hand went to her knife and she eased it into her grip.
I am going to kill you, she mouthed. The rogue winked back at her and counted down with his fingers.
"Shove off, ya blathering nutta. I's just tal-hic-king 'bout it, s'all. Emperor's pissbucket, I wasn't expecting the Imperial Inquisition!"
Shannegh threw his shoulder into the door. It had just enough resistance to keep him from flying through and faceplanting on the floor. Sweeping the area in front of him with his pistol, he fired a short burst into the first person to cross his vision: a grease slob of a dark-skinned man with a broad meat cleaver in his hand. The .380 caliber pistol rounds stitched a jagged pattern up his chest, painting the wall behind him with red. Next in line was a tall and bony wretch with an antique shotgun resting across his lap and his hands behind his head. His feet were flailing madly as he fell back over in his chair when Shannegh cut his autopistol across and ended his life with a second burst that sent him sprawling ass-over-head into the corner.
"Nobody expects the Imperial Inquisition" Shannegh crowed. He stood in the entrance of the building, his pistol aimed at the ground, taking great delight not only in the speed of their executions but also in the well-played timing of his quip. He was sure he had heard a joke similar to that in some old film. Pity no one was around to appreciate his wit. Well, he glanced back at Getta… yeah, no one who would appreciate it.
Seeing no more targets, Shannegh stepped to the side and allowed Getta to enter. She nearly tripped over her feet in her rush to get inside. Crossing to the far side of the room, she inspected the solitary door that led further in.
"Could you have made any more of a mess" she whined, picking her way around the bloody corpses of the dead men. "Throne, now what are we going to do? We've almost three days or more before the Guard arrives."
"Not my problem." He spent a minute examining his handiwork before gesturing to the wall. "These look like steel with a layer of paint. Water'll take it right off. Find a closet to stuff the bodies in, some towel or sheets to sop up the blood, and we've got our own little duty station right next to the Senate Tower. I think it's perfect."
"I cannot believe you." The woman shoved her knife back into its scabbard and checked the shotgun. Her grimace told him the weapon was not in good condition. "You are an absolute scoundrel."
"I've been told. Come on, this isn't so bad. We can just…" he sifted through the papers on the desk the men had been next to. Mostly junk papers, but there was a book with what looked like a list of names. He could not make it out because it was written in some xenos script, or so he assumed. Reading wasn't a strong point of his. Flipping through the most recent pages, he spotted a few lines repeated over and over. "Hey, I think this might be a visitor or something. Maybe that Eldar we just saw leave. See, this… word… keeps getting repeated. And it's the last one too."
Getta leaned over the book and sniffed. "The ink is still drying. It must be. Now if only we could read it."
"Well, what about this one?"
A second line seemed to be repeated alongside the first, though only perhaps half as often. Piecing together what he remembered from Inquisitor Helsing's lessons about duty rosters and log books, he began to realize that he was indeed looking at some sort of guest list. That wasn't the right name for it, but he went with it. Those columns were arrivals, and those were departures, perhaps? He never had been much for this kind of stuff. That's what the others were for.
"Louk, are you seeing this?" Getta pointed at both columns. "Those two names are here, but only the first is over here."
Her face paled and she glanced nervously at the inner door. Shannegh stared at the page for a long minute, unsure if he was understanding her point. Two had gone in, but only one had gone… oh feck.
"There's an Eldar in here with us" Shannegh muttered. His mind went numb for the span of four heartbeats, hardly any time at all with the rate it burst into pumping. Guided by instinct, he went over to the entry door and pushed it hard to ensure it was closed. Sliding both of the locks, he secured it against opening. The Scintillan let out a suppressed cry at his action.
"What are you doing? We need to get out of here!"
"We wouldn't last a damn hour" Shannegh snarled, cursing his own brashness. Hindsight had eagle vision, or so the saying went, and he was right in the middle of wondering what he had been thinking. "If we run now they'll know for sure we were here, and Eldar can track a snowflake through a blizzard. I'd rather take my chances killing the bastard here."
"Us… killing one of them?" She flinched at the thought, hand going to her throat. Fear radiated out of her in such powerful waves that he could almost feel it tickle his skin. "But we… that's imp-"
"Eldar are just as mortal as we are" he promised her, not sure if he believed his own words. Dropping beside the corpses, he searched them until he found a set of keys. "Stow that crap and get your laspistol ready. I'll lead because I've got more experience than you do. Trust me, we have the advantage. It doesn't know we're here yet."
"I will pray your first shot strikes true then."
Following meekly, Getta readied her laspistol and nudged the safety nub to arm the weapon. It was a big piece for a pistol, and in her thin hands it appeared oversized. Shannegh nodded in approval before drawing his lascarbine. He would need the extra firepower here, and damn the noise. If his instincts were right this building could resist a tank shelling.
Putting one hand on the door, he looked back at Getta and forced a smile. "Best of luck" he murmured.
Through the door stretched a short hallway with mirrored glass on the right side. Shannegh hurried on, knowing that anyone on the other side would be undetectable unless he got into the sideroom, which would have its entrance further in. The second door opened freely, swinging on its hinge with a faint creak. Darting in, he planted his right food hard and kicked off to launch himself left and out of the doorway while he searched for targets.
Eldar. And another. And another and another and…
His finger rested on the trigger but his mind refused to send the order. Stunned, he gazed at the dozen-plus sets of eyes staring back at him. There were tons of Eldar in the room. Blonde ones, brunettes, men and women, even what looked like a child. Some appeared afraid, others angry. All of them were staring at him.
And they were locked in cells.
"Feck me" Shannegh gasped, unable to comprehend what he was looking at. Getta came tearing into the room a moment later, her mouth opening in a silent scream at the sheer number of bodies before her. Trembling badly, she lifted her laspistol on reflex. Shannegh swung his lascarbine over and knocked the pistol higher so her shot merely splashed into the steel ceiling.
"Hold your fire" he hissed, speaking words that hadn't quite formed into coherence. "They're… feck, they're prisoners."
"Oh Throne," Getta breathed, her face alternating between pale-white and sickly-green. White won out and she hastily lowered her laspistol. Her own amazement compelled her to step forward and approach the cells. "What the hell are we looking at?"
"I guess this explains why we haven't seen many Eldar about" Shannegh ventured. He started when he remembered there were more doors to cover. Rushing to the sideroom entrance, he kicked it open and checked inside: empty. Satisfied, he returned to the center of the room and observed as Getta crept closer. She had put her weapons away and walked with her hands wringing before her waist. Approaching a cell, she put her face near the bars and gazed intently at the nearest Eldar.
It was a woman. Though she sat on a bench Shannegh could tell she would stand taller than him if she rose. She wore a form-clinging undersuit of black mesh that showed off her alien physique with startling, and somewhat arousing, detail. Thin legs with sinewy muscles, bony hips that seemed crushed together moreso than a human's would be, a dainty but muscular waist, narrow shoulders and long arms that were crossed defiantly over her chest. Her neck and face remained uncovered, showing just how exotic and alien the Eldar were. It was as if an artist had taken a human mold and stretched it all just slightly. It was subtle, but noticeable. Her chin was just a little too pointed, her eyes too large and angled, her cheekbones curved to frame her face in a captivating way. Not sexily captivating, just… hard to look away from. But her ears, those were different. They were long and pointed, unlike even the oddest human's. Her reddish-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, let loose and free even though he could tell it was not her hairstyle of choice. He knew a lot about hairstyling, but that was a whole other story.
The Eldar spat what was probably a curse at Getta, but remained seated.
"Look at that" Shannegh said, striding over to stand beside the Scintillan woman. He pointed past the angry one at the child. The others had shifted over to stand or sit between the child and the bars. Entirely understandable from where he stood. "You don't hear about Eldar children very often."
"Their species is supposed to be dying" Getta whispered, awe filling her tone. "Long lives but few children. An Eldar child is a rare thing indeed."
Her words sparked a wave of anger across the Eldar in the cell. They both backpedaled as the angry one and a couple others rose and started chattering in their xenos tongue. The rage was palpable, as was the protectiveness. Putting a hand on Getta's shoulder, he eased her back and jabbed towards the bars with his lascarbine.
"Shut up, you damn fools." His eyes darted through the cells, seeking any that reminded him of the one he had seen outside. These appeared to be an entirely different breed, and not just in skin and hair color either. A couple here and there wore the black undersuits, but the others wore robes of mostly white fabric with red or blue patterns woven into the sleeves, collars, hems, etcetera. All of them wore some sort of necklace that held a bright gem. Two kinds of Eldar? And these in prison while the others walked the streets? "Getta, what in all that is holy have we stumbled onto? This isn't at all what I was briefed on."
"Nor me" she agreed, nodding along. "Just think of it, here we've been blaming the Eldar for all this and they've been the prisoners."
"Because they clearly are all lovey-dovey about us humans." Shannegh realized the reddish-blonde was glaring at him, had been glaring at him, without blinking this entire time. Her gaze unsettled him, made his skin crawl. When he dared look back he found himself staring into eyes of the clearest blue. Countless ages of life swirled in those startling orbs, holding more wisdom and suffering and rage than he could begin to imagine. And it was all directed at him. He wanted to shoot her dead on the spot for worry she might tear through the bars with her bare hands and beat him to death. For some terrifying reason he feared she might be able to do just that.
"I… I just had a thought. Be right back." Getta disappeared back into the hallway, leaving Shannegh alone in the room with all of the Eldar. Some of the xenos had gone back to whatever they had been doing before he stormed in. Others remained staring. The ones in the undersuits all stared. Those must have been soldiers, and that was what they wore beneath their armor. How had the Penal Legion taken them out? He couldn't imagine a gang of miscreants taking on an army of peerless warriors like the Eldar…
On second thought, maybe a Penal Legion was perfectly suited for the task. He had no idea what kind of Penal Legion they were, whether the hardcore brutes or simply indentured criminals. The former could have all kinds of psychopaths in their ranks. That was exactly the kind of people that could, if coordinated well enough, achieve something like this. But how had this Colonel Russo kept that firm a hand on his men? Oh, the questions that burned in his mind.
When Getta returned she had the logbook in her hands. Scurrying over to a table, she set the book down and motioned for him to come over. It took her a few seconds of page-flipping to find what she was looking for.
"Here, see. This must be the list of them. There are… twenty two names listed here, all with that marking which I'm pretty sure is a date."
"Twenty two" Shannegh muttered, looking back up at the cells. He made a quick headcount. Twenty one. Frowning, he checked again. Again, he came up one short. "Then we have a problem."
"You don't think that one was the twenty second" Getta asked, frowning as she considered her own question.
"No, that couldn't make sense." Shannegh strode over to the reddish-blonde, he decided to just call her Angry Eyes in his head for simplicity's sake, and made a show of lowering his weapon. "I'm assuming that you can understand us, so I'm going to try and be clear here. We're not on your side. We're with the Inquisition."
Angry Eyes continued to stare at him, but the other Eldar exchanged looks. Whether they recognized the name or not, he could not tell. To be honest he did not know if it mattered. Probably didn't.
"Imperial forces are pounding their way up the mountain and will be here in a matter of days. I can't promise you about what'll happen then, but I can tell you right now, we don't plan on being caught by the current residents of this city. We're looking at staking this place as a home until that happens, but I need a promise that you'll be good neighbors, do you ken?
"Before this goes any further though, I have a couple questions. One, why are you in the cells when your black-armored buddy was out walking around. You guys shirk on the human-lording or something?"
Angry Eyes's face twisted with rage and she spat on the floor. "Druchii!"
"And she speaks" Shannegh said with a wave to Getta. "Any idea what that means?"
Getta looked up from the logbook and shook her head. She had procured parchment and a writing pen from somewhere and was making notes.
"Okay then," he turned back to Angry Eyes. "I'm going to just assume there are two factions of you xenos morons here and one's taken over the other. Look angrier if I'm right."
He had meant it to be slightly humorous, but somehow she did actually make her face angrier. Not that he knew if that was in response to his command or simply out of hatred for his being on the other side of the bars. Still, he took it as a yes.
"What about number twenty two, then? Isn't there supposed to be one more of you?"
He pointed towards an empty spot in the cell in hopes it would help communicate his question. The Eldar nearest the spot looked at it, then back at him in confusion. None seemed to understand, or if they did they pretended they did not. Sighing heavily, Shannegh began pointing to each in turn and counted them off. When he reached the number twenty two he pointed to the empty spot.
"You're missing one, right? Where is he, she, whatever the hell your kind call your genders?"
One of the male Eldar in an undersuit stood up. He pointed to the remaining door, the one Shannegh hadn't gone in yet. The sign above it read BASEMENT. More unintelligible words poured out of his mouth as he spoke until Angry Eyes shot him a withering look and barked a command. Chastened, he fell silent and returned to his seat. But that was all Shannegh needed. Shooting Angry Eyes a cheeky grin, he stretched his hand through the bars and patted her cheek before she could turn back to resume her glaring. He had to wrench his hand back to avoid getting his wrist broken by her lightning-fast slap.
"See, that wasn't so hard, sugarplum. I'll be right back."
His companion was buried up to her nose in the logbook. As he approached the basement door he glanced over and discovered she was trying to decipher the xenos script. She looked up when he patted her shoulder.
"I'm going to check down there" he said, pointing to the door. "If you don't hear from me in ten, run."
"You know just the right words to scare the piss out of me" she groaned. Reaching to her holster, she drew her laspistol and laid it on the table beside her papers. "I should have just ignored you out there."
"Yeah, might have been better for your health. But where's the fun in caution?"
Approaching the door, Shannegh took a deep breath and double-checked his lascarbine's power pack. His hands crept towards the handle when the same Eldar who had spoken before stood again and caught his attention.
"Druchii" the man said urgently. He held up a single finger. "Druchii!"
"One bad guy" Shannegh muttered. That was what he had expected. Nodding his thanks, he opened the door and left the cell room.
The stairs down were dark and claustrophobic. Drywall hemmed in the sides, giving barely enough space to avoid scraping his shoulders as he stalked down. Thankfully the steps were solid and did not creak. At the bottom of the stairs stood an unreinforced door. Shannegh approached it cautiously, wishing he had one of those auspex devices to tell him what was on the other side. His hands shook and he could feel the sweat where his fingers rubbed together. Every breath sounded unusually harsh and seemed to echo in his ears.
He had never fought an Eldar before. Men were bad enough. What would he see down there? Would this be a sorcerer, with all sorts of warp tricks and demons to unleash? Would it be an acrobatic fury of blades that could run off walls and twist though his gunfire? His lips had gone dry and when he tried to recite a prayer his throat cracked. Deciding it was better to remain silent, both for the sake of keeping undetected and for his spirits, he continued on until he reached the door.
Unlike the other doors, this one had been made of a sturdy but comparatively fragile plasteel slab that didn't quite seal against the floor. He heard a voice on the other side. It was silky and dangerous, the words slithering against his ears like snakes. The voice went on, almost like a man giving a speech, interrupted only by the occasional crack of a whip. With each crack came a muffled and agonized moan. Someone was torturing somebody in there. Shannegh's skin crawled as the whip sounded three times in a row.
A spasm of pain started in his lower back and crept up the length of his torso. He remembered the whip all too well. The permanent reminder lodged against his spine flared with mind-splitting agony. Biting back a gasp, he staggered back and sat down on the stairs. He bit his tongue until he tasted his blood, hot tears running down his cheeks as he tried to contain the unexpected pain. Throne, he could hardly feel his fingers. The sound of a whip brought back terrible memories, the kind that he remembered so vividly in a way that only pain could bring.
He didn't know how long he sat there, writhing on the stairs in crippling pain as the metal shard grated against his nerve endings. At one point he feared he might pass out, but the pain began to eventually subside and he sagged to the floor, whimpering to himself as the searing pain dulled. His left hand had clenched so tight he had dislocated two finger joints. Popping them back into place, he winced and struggled to stand back up. He had to lean against the lascarbine for a long minute as he caught his breath.
It had been years since he heard a whip's crack. He hadn't thought the sound could be so terrifying, but it was. Just hearing it had been enough to tear aside his stimm-boosted adrenaline that blocked the pain.
But now wasn't the time to think of that. He had a job to do, and someone to kill. Staggering over to lean on the wall next to the door, he waited for his limbs to feel back under his control before lifting a foot and kicking the door. He could still hear the voice on the other side. That meant whoever it was hadn't heard him in the stairwell. And he could tell exactly where the man was standing. He would not hesitate this time. If he saw a live body he would shoot first and stop to wonder later.