Hidden
Trask stood and watched as his men shifted the featureless metal crates. The antigrav lifters dealt with the weight, but the inertia and bulk still made them awkward to deal with. Twenty were already stacked against one wall of the warehouse and that was just the beginning. A short ganger sidled over.
"We still going to deal boss?" the ganger who had draw the short straw hovered nervously.
A brief nod was the only response.
"But the Eagles are sniffing."
"Which is why we get this delivery off-world before they catch a scent."
"Boys are getting..." The question was cut off as Trask backhanded the luckless ganger sending him flying across the floor and raised his voice.
"The boys are getting well paid. The boys are going to be getting better weapons than the Arbites." Looking around knowing that even those pretending to work were listening closely. "Those Eagles are chasing their tail-feathers. Besides. We have insurance now."
Beside him a slim figure stepped from the shadows and took a bow. The fallen ganger scrambled to his feet made a brief sign to ward off the evil eye and ran back to work.
The figure walked over to Trask.
"Our source says the Inquisition are here." Trask stated.
"After us?"
"Most likely. Are you up to this?"
The psyker grinned.
"Oh yes. They will never know what killed them."
Imperial Palace Tetran Prime
Tarik escorted the Marshal back to her flyer. She waited until they were in the air.
"Your boss..."
"Lord Ulrich is making a point in the least subtle manner possible so we can get on with our jobs Marshal. From what I can tell Governor White is a perfectly competent administrator. This system is, by all appearance very well run." He thought for a moment. "And because of that, the lack of obvious threat, officials can be less than helpful when the Inquisition appears."
"So you would rather we had more problems to deal with."
Tarik grinned. For a moment the studied anonymity of his face was split with sparkling amusement. "There have only been three occasions I arrived somewhere where people were happy to see the Inquisition. It invariably meant something had gone so seriously wrong that anyone with any sense would have immediately flown off and bombed the whole planet from orbit."
"Did you?"
"Hmmm... once. But they were subtle bombs."
Kryn gave a snort of laughter and found herself relaxing until she mentally brought herself up sharp. This man was still part of an Inquisitorial retinue. The friendly contrast was likely an act designed to put her off her guard in the same way the initial intimidation had been designed to gain a response from the Governor. She held onto her annoyance as a way of staying focused.
"You pulled me off my investigation because?"
"Because you graduated top of your class, because two sector High Marshals were fighting for your services given the promise you showed."
"Some promise if I ended up here?"
"Most senior arbitrator in a system of billions at a stage when most are still working their way up their first district precinct? Yes you've done dreadfully. You'll have to try a bit harder. Still a commendation from the Inquisition wouldn't go amiss." he winked. Kryn glowered and tried to refocus the conversation.
"So, Xenos?"
"You know the ordos?"
"It was on your identification. Seems odd since the last major xenos incursion was the Orkfall and that was best part of two centuries ago."
"Don't get too hung up on demarcation. Our primary focus is aliens, but if we see heresy or demonic incursion we are hardly likely to turn our back on it."
"So what's your rank – interrogator?"
"Officially I have been classed as ancillary equipment before now." Tarik glanced, saw that his attempts at humour were failing and switched tack. "Unofficially Ulrich and I have worked together for about 15 years now, bodyguard and Inquisitor. We both speak with the full authority of the Throne. Just call me Tarik and don't worry too much about rank. And call him sir. He likes that."
Kryn snorted again despite herself. Tarik may have been playing a role but he was doing it very well and she made a mental note to watch carefully.
"So how can I help the Inquisition?"
"We'll need a room for our base of operations, private, secluded with hardlinks to your data systems. Quarters for eight, doesn't need to be fancy, but again secluded and close to the work room."
"The Bastian has a secondary command centre in case the primary is compromised, fully separate from the rest of the complex, defensible in case of infiltration and with living facilities in case of siege."
"Perfect. Thank you Marshal."
"Now, why are you really here?"
The friendly grin froze and Tarik's eyes grew hard momentarily. Then he nodded slowly in apparent approval. "Populations not matching models are a problem for the Administratum. Yes it's a large discrepancy but when billions are dying on battlefields across the Imperium it's still a rounding error in a formula. We're concerned about who seems to be missing."
"Meaning"
"You tell me Marshal. What have you noticed that's strange about your time here? Has your mind switched off? Why are you wasting your time personally pursuing a gang with fewer than fifty core individuals?"
"They are a suspicious..."
"... a suspicious set of non-entities who don't pose any threat to planetary law and security so why is the Marshal herself on their case."
"Because you hit them small before they become a problem."
"Beautiful theory – why is no one else doing that?"
Kryn stopped herself and thought, noticing Tarik's grin was back. "Good. Think. And when you can give me a good answer you may be able to work out why we are here."
On Assignment
Totiem smiled, lined up the shot and paused. The guard was sloppy, not checking his rear. Following a set patrol. It was almost as if he wanted to be killed. Reluctantly he waited the two minutes for the guard to restart his walk around the perimeter and turn the corner. Slipping in unnoticed would be tactically wiser, there was no sign that the guards were checked on, or that they checked in but there was always the chance they had some sort of heartbeat monitor or similar that would register if someone came up behind them with a knife and slit their throat. Or shot them with a pistol from nearly 240 metres or, he glanced idly up, from a tower with clear sightline less than a klick and a half away. Even without the Marshal watching over his shoulder he was not having as much fun with this as he would like. It would have been much quicker to go in the front and just slaughter them all. But somehow he felt Kryn's eyes on him.
There were another three hours of true-night, at least two hours more than he needed. He sighed under his breath and drifted across the street, a grey shadow. A camoleoline cloak breaking up his outline even further. Silently he hauled himself up the side of the building, crumbling stonework providing more than adequate footholds. Assuming the guard kept to routine which he had done for the last hour and a half he had around eight minutes to be inside. The nondescript block had some sort of workshop on the ground floor and either offices or habitation on the dozen or so floors above it. Very little of which seemed to be in regular use. Five floors up an ornamental gargoyle gave him secure footing and allowed him to use his hands. He had scanned using the passive sensing of his bionic eye, but that particular piece of technology was designed to pick out targets at a distance rather than do a close up forensic examination. He pulled a small auspex from his belt able to actively scan a wider range of frequencies than his implant. A quick check showed the nearest window to be clear of detection devices, unless they were substantially better shielded than even the military generally employed.
Three minutes. He slipped the auspex back in his belt and reached for a knife and set of tools. The window was slightly ajar which was why he had picked this level to climb to. Now that he was next to it the frame appeared to have warped, probably why it had not shut properly. It had been painted over sometime in the past by someone under the mistaken impression that a coat or two of green paint would improve the appearance of the block and that had more or less jammed it open for the foreseeable future. He carefully attacked the hinges removing enough of the paint to free it up and pushed hard. The was a quiet crack as some of the paint came away and he caught a few errant flakes and hid them in the gargoyle's mouth. Another quick push and there was enough of a gap for him to slip through. He slid in and closed the window behind him with almost a minute to spare.
The office he was in was dusty and had obviously not been used in years. He spared it no further attention but slipped out into the corridor, also empty and dusty. He paused, there were a few ways to avoid leaving footprint. Most would make his progress significantly slower. A grapnel line would damage the walls in ways that would be equally telling. Trailing his cloak through the dust would hide the footprints but make it more obvious that someone had infiltrated. Given the corridor was narrow there was another way. He wiped his boot soles clean with the cloak, grabbed the top of the doorframe and swung his feet to press against the opposite wall. Hands pushing against the other wall he was able to walk himself to the other end of the corridor where there was a flight of rockcrete stairs. This had been well travelled and he dropped lightly onto them stretching his arms and legs to loosen them after the awkward mode of travel.
He heard breathing on the floor below, a quick inspection showed bunks, and various lockers. Two gang members were asleep another lay staring at the ceiling, a faint tinny rasp of music drifting from some portable player nearby. There was a strong smell of obscura mixed with lho smoke and other more potent narcotics that suggested that none of them were likely to notice an intruder, or possibly anything short of a rampaging ork.
Totiem descended one more floor, this was more promising, desks that showed regular use with various ledgers and data slates strewn around. He selected a picter from his belt and began recording anything that looked important. One data slate in particular seemed a higher grade than the others, he looked for a data port, but it had been epoxied solid, suggesting whatever data was on it was worth protecting. And hence worth stealing. Of course it would not do to have the theft discovered. He took a small incendiary grenade, set a 10 minute timer and put it in the middle of the largest pile of paper. He then returned to the floor above. All three of the gang members there were now sleeping. He reached for his pistol, then shook his head and chose a more subtle approach. A small pouch in his jacket hid an assortment of venoms and various means of introducing them. For this task he picked a device resembling a thimble with a hair thin needle protruding. It slotted neatly on his index finger and with a quick press on the necks of each of the 3 sleepers he ensured they would never wake again. He sniffed and tracked down an unopened pack of lho sticks. Lighting one he carefully placed it in the hand of one of the corpses where it should set light to the bedding about a minute before the incendiary went off downstairs. There was some fairly high proof alcohol which he artfully spilled over the bedclothes and left the rest of the bottle to pour out over the floor near the outstretched hand of one of the corpses. Tracks covered he headed back to the flight above. If he had timed it right the fire should be noticed just when the guard was back this side of the building. With all the confusion no one would ever miss him.