Arbites Sub Chapel
Much later that day Kryn slumped in the hard wooden pew. She stared unseeingly at the aquila that gazed over the small chapel lost in her own thoughts. She never felt at home at the hive's grand cathedral where the most important hive events were held, or even in the large basilica that was the primary place of worship in the Arbite's bastion. But the small under-chapel where off duty arbitrators could quietly attend if they missed the scheduled services reminded her of home and her few treasured memories of attending services with her parents before her training began.
The sound of someone sitting beside her made her jump and reach for a sidearm that she had carefully stored in her locker before coming to this place of peace.
"Sorry I startled you Marshal." the rich baritone always sounded slightly unexpected coming from the withered frame. A face lined with time and a body twisted and crooked did not fit with the voice of a vox-cast presenter or chapel chorister.
"Simeone. You startled me."
The chaplain looked wryly at the pair of metal capped sticks he had to use to get around. The clicking they made on the cold stone flagstones of the chapel were anything but subtle and Kryn realised how lost in her thoughts she had become.
"How are you Marshal?"
"Fine. We... we had an operation go bad... I must get back to work." She barely began to stand before a gentle hand stopped her.
"So now we know how the Marshal is. How is Kryn Sodor?"
Kryn sighed sat back and looked Simeone in the eyes. Eyes that had seen decades of violence in the worst levels of Tetran's Hives and sink outhabs somehow still retained an odd kindness. Despite the weakness of Simeone's body wrecked beyond the repair of even Imperial medicine by a particularly vicious riot his manner still had the authority of a street Judge.
"Rough." She admitted. "Losing that many men, still no idea what we're fighting against that fracking Inquisitor and his..." She paused embarrassed as the echoes of her outburst resounded in the holy place.
"I am sure the Emperor prefers a little decorum in his chapels. But equally sure he hears His armies on the battlefield express themselves more robustly."
"I'm not on a battlefield."
"Of course you are. Each heart is a battlefield where the Emperor's justice battles with the darkness. How much more so a whole world of hearts. "
Kryn's eyes stung, vision blurring and she looked away from the chaplain fixing her eyes on a statue of the Emperor. Simeone settled back in the pew as best he could on twisted limbs pretending not to notice. "Tomorrow Kryn you'll be the Marshal. You'll be strong and lead your men in righteous vengeance. We will say a mass for your men and know that they are now on a better battlefield fighting by the Emperor's side and that we will join them, sooner or later. For tonight be you. Morn your men, by yourself, with friends – even with an old broken down priest if you can't find anyone better."
Kryn smiled wanly, "Thank you, I think I will go to my quarters. Say a prayer for me Chaplain." She stood and this time Simeone made no move to stop her.
"Any word on Ward?" He asked.
"Alive. Still unconscious and the injuries..."
Simeone shook his head then struggled to his feet. "Perhaps someone needs to remind her that merely being half killed is no reason to stop serving the Emperor. I'll make sure there is a friendly face when she wakes up."
As he stumbled away Kryn surreptitiously wiped her eyes, offered a quick prayer of thanks and made her way back to her quarters.
Kryn woke early the next day, as she always did. Mind and body back in focus. She offered a brief prayer to the Emperor before slipping into a light training tunic. She headed quickly to the gymnasium and was surprised to find it in use. Tarik was there under the main lights working though a standard training regime. She recognised the basic blocks and counters being practiced quickly, precisely and by rote. She watched, noting the play of his muscles and the speed of his movements. He was barefoot wearing a simple brown bodyglove, with the golden torc still around his neck. It looked showy and pretentious in contrast to the simplicity of the rest of his outfit. Strange gems and what looked like bone flowed under a covering of gold that shifted in a way that seemed too fluid for metal. He threw a spin kick and dropped out of posture as she entered his sightline.
"My apologies Marshal." He smiled abruptly, and made a brief bow of greeting. "Did you wish to use the room undisturbed?"
"Carry on. It is the duty of the Emperor's soldiers to keep their weapons sharp. Beginning with their mind and their body."
"Not a catechism I recognise but I approve of the sentiment. Would you care to spar?"
Kryn stretched her still stiff muscles. She would like to have warmed up before combat, but the chance to spar with a chosen warrior from an inquisitorial retinue was a rare opportunity. She nodded her agreement and padded over to him, surreptitiously testing her ankle which remained prone to cramp after a nasty break a few months previously.
"Weapons?"
"Not at first." She bowed while comfortably outside his reach, then tried a few tentative low kicks. He blocked calmly with standard technique, then stepped forward throwing some lazy blows that she dodged effortlessly. She retaliated with a leg sweep that he stepped over and a straight left to his torso that he took with a slight hiss.
"Warmed up?" He asked dropping into a standard guard position, legs apart hands open ready to strike or grapple.
She sniffed and mirrored his posture, again a familiar style from her days in the Schola Progenium. She had the edge in reach and height, his stockiness probably made him slightly the heavier of the two and she had seen his strength earlier. Trying to make the most of her advantages she launched a flurry of strikes to his face and chest, each was blocked flawlessly. Quick kicks to try to put him off balance were dodged or blocked. Angry she ducked in low throwing a knee into his hip. He rode the blow but that left him open to an elbow to the head. She took the opening, harder than she had intended, only for the blow to be caught in his palm. His grip was stronger than she expected and as Kryn tried to wrench out of it a leg twisted around her own. Off balance she could not stop him as he forced her knee down, twisting her body as his other arm snaked around her throat in a textbook chokehold. He held her for a moment, then released his grip, stepping back quickly as though he was worried about her lashing out.
"You're faster than you look." She muttered, then shoulder charged him. He took a step to the side positioned to avoid the rush and take advantage of the opportunity to throw her that her impetuous action would leave her vulnerable too. But she had already anticipated that and her knee connected with his midriff with all her weight and momentum behind it. It lifted Tarik off the ground. Before he could recover his balance she grabbed his arm, twisting it into an agonizing arm lock. Without apparent effort or discomfort he forced her arm back and threw a punch towards her face that caused her to jump back out of reach. He then advanced, throwing a combination of punches that even though she could almost anticipate them still came fast enough to slip through her guard. Several landed, each gently, but Kryn knew that had it not been sparring any one would have put her down hard. Finally he swung at her face and as she moved to block swept her legs and pinned her to the mat with a knee for a moment before standing back and offering her a hand back to her feet.
She took it, and let him pull her up as though she weighed no more than a child.
"So given you're not a body guard what rank are you? Interrogator?"
Tarik looked puzzled. "What makes you think that?"
"You're not a natural fighter. You're well trained, and whatever augmentations they gave you make you very fast and strong but you fight like a novice."
"A novice that flattened you twice." Tarik pointed out without obvious rancour.
"As I said you're faster and stronger, But you fight like you're in an adeptus training video. Everything is a standard counter or offence. No one fights like that."
"But that's the training."
"And any natural fighter takes it as a base then adds in moves that they pick up. You join a regiment and learn from the specialists, you lose a fight and learn from your opponent. You adapt techniques to fit your build. Well I say you. You don't. It's all clean, precise and artificial."
Tarik dropped his head chewing his bottom lip in apparent thought. "So who can you recommend that has a specific style I could borrow from?"
"Totiem – the Mortiurge obviously. Wiesren used to run with gangs and has a range of dirty tricks – plus he's a similar build to you."
"Thank you." Tarik turned and walked to the weapons rack taking a blunted training sword and dagger. "If you have the time I would appreciate your observations and comments on my blade work."
Kryn nodded and took down a practice weapon the size and weight of the shock maul she typically used before taking her defensive stance again.
Later that day
Kryn walked into the interrogation room. A nervous looking Protector was standing at attention in front of Ulrich who was sat behind the standard metal desk. Leaning against a wall Tarik looked up and nodded towards a chair as Ulrich continued.
"So if someone goes on the 'long walk'?"
The protector suddenly realised that the Marshal had entered and saluted, then panic stricken turned back to Ulrich and saluted again. Kryn rolled her eyes and saw Tarik struggling to keep a straight face.
"Long walk?" Ulrich continued.
"Um you walk along a pillar. If you are on shifts then the month off is just enough time to do the whole walk so you'd walk back from Tetran II to Tetran I then take the train back to start your next shift. You have to be pretty fit, but there are trains that can pick you up part way if you don't make it."
"You done the walk?" Ulrich asked gently, obviously trying to put the enforcer at ease.
"Ja. Before I joined the Protectors did time in the factories. Made it with a day to spare, the next shift was awful but you have to try it once."
"So you need to carry camping equipment?"
"No there's cheap hostels every few kilometres, and nicer ones if you can afford them. I couldn't."
"So the 'longest walk' is doing the same to each individual pillars?"
"No." The Protector shook his head and visibly seemed to relax now he had useful information to impart. Which given Ulrich already knew the answer was the point. "That's 'doing the round' the 'longest walk' is where you leave and don't intend to come back. Either starting again on one of the other worlds or just going half way along a pillar and waiting for the end. Lot of terminal cases do that. There are special trains that collect the bodies and then we have to ID them and inform families, if they have any."
"So like 'gone to the mountain'."
"Close but that's someone who vanishes for no reason."
"Why 'gone to the mountain'?"
"Dunno. Maybe just because that's where people go when they want to disappear usually."
"Is it different to 'taken by the mountain'?"
"That's just what mums say to their kids. You behave or they'll take you to the mountain."
"Who's 'they'?"
The protector looked rather embarrassed.
"I'm not judging the quality of bedtime stories. Are 'they' people or monsters?"
"The green eyed men."
"Interesting so the Goblins are trading off that story?"
"Yeah, having green eyes gets you a bit of stick, even adults sometimes hide them with coloured contacts. But in the stories they are always glowing green eyes."
"But otherwise look human."
"Look it, but underneath they are monsters."
"Thank you Protector Ulnis. That was very helpful. You can go."
The hapless protector saluted, then turned, saluted Marshal Sodor, then looked at Tarik who frowned causing him to salute a third time, do an abrupt about face and almost run out of the room.
"Gentlemen, I assume you have a reason for pulling protectors off their duty patrols and asking them what their mummy read to them as a child." Kryn asked not trying to hide the sarcasm.
"Having brought the only Tetran who doesn't actually know any of the stories or idioms with us we needed trustworthy local sources." Ulrich replied not at all perturbed by the question. Tarik shrugged. If he was worried by his lack of knowledge it was not obvious.
"There are legends of the men from the mountain taking... usually children but others from as early as we have recorded history here. The 'men' are pretty uniformly humanoid, usually with glowing green eyes. Some look like men until they throw off their disguise. Some have claws. Some fly. Some creep up on their victims on snake tails. The details are not much different from the stories of a thousand other worlds. But they are consistent in their detail. Always men, always taking their victims to the mountain. The stories seem to be common to all major cities on all four planets and have not changed in several thousand years as best as we can tell. That makes them unusual.
"Most cultures that have lasted as long as the Tetran colonies have sub-cultures, and the myths change between groups. Those myths change to reflect changes in society. None of that has happened here. " Ulrich shrugged and stood. "It may be nothing. But often established myths came from a core truth and given we were bringing some Proctors in to look for Goblin infiltration it seemed a good opportunity to ask. There is no apparent infiltration by the way. At least of personnel, can't rule out electronic spying of some sort."
Kryn though about challenging his confidence in that statement, but as Ulrich was both Inquisitor and psyker so was prepared to put a little faith in his abilities.
Ulrich pushed his chair under the desk and Kryn and Tarik fell in behind him as he walked down the corridor to the Bastian's central command. The place was usually quiet being the backup control centre but now besides the odd stormtrooper controlling the entrances it seemed totally deserted. Ulrich looked back and gestured to a purpling bruise that was marking Tarik from forehead to jaw line
"The Marshal teaching you some useful lessons then?"
Kryn smiled. Had she been holding a real shock maul the blow would have taken Tarik's head off. Landing it had meant throwing herself onto his knife in a way that probably would have been excruciating had the knife been real and as it was felt like it might have cracked a rib. For the sake of a kill on someone faster and stronger than she was it was a move she would happily have pulled, especially if she had been wearing her carapace armour to mitigate the damage.
"I learned a great deal." Tarik admitted and gave a short bow of acknowledgement as they entered the control room.
"Sal has a few things for us." Ulrich told them.
The savant nodded and moved to a lectern.
"Preliminary results from the forensic sweep. From dust patterns and haulage scrapes on walls there is evidence of a large number of large boxes being moved in and out of that storage facility. Sadly no evidence of their contents. The lack of markings on the floor along with dust disturbance patterns suggests use of antigravity cargo haulers. Whatever they are they are heavy, and valuable if someone is using such high technology just to move boxes."
"And the dead bodies?"
"So far 16 PDF troopers and 57 gang members have been accounted for from the assault on the warehouse including those killed or captured by the strike teams. Excluding those we have 38 combatants and 10 arbitrators killed by persons and means unknown. The majority were killed by slashing wounds, superficially claws and teeth."
"Superficially?" Ulrich asked.
"The pattern of wounds is consistent with slashing claws." Sal gestured with a hand, fingers outstretched and curled into imaginary talons. "Roughly human sized spread. But the cuts are too precise, the edges clean and sterile. Animal claws would leave bone fragments, and generally would have at least some trouble slicing through flack armour. These cuts were made by a mechanically honed edge. Think bladed gauntlet with 20 to 50 cm blades."
"The bite marks?"
"Likewise. Size and indentation patter superficially matching roughly human sized bite, but with overlarge canines and no human mouth could open wide enough to bite in such a fashion. On close inspection, the dentation is all wrong and there was no bacterial transfer, no saliva. The material that was removed was all accounted for among the remains. It appeared chewed but not reduced in volume."
Kryn winced at the thought of examining the bloody remains in such detail but Sal continued apparently unconcerned.
"Other wounds, notably those on the remains of the Abites squad, were caused by unpowered but surgically sharp bladed weapons of numerous types, in addition there were a small number of wounds that appear to have been caused by some sort of beam weapon. No heat blooming at the edges of the impacts which rules out most known weapons capable of putting a hole through carapace armour that cleanly."
"So what did this?"
Sal looked at the marshal, then at Tarik who shrugged.
"Inconclusive as yet." The savant replied.
"So we have nothing?"
"From the forensics we have nothing conclusive on the attackers. On the subject of the attacked, we have recovered 13 PDF dog-tags, and multiple corpses in PDF gear. We have gene-matched the bodies and have verified that the tags were a match. They were genuine PDF troopers. Still searching through gene matches for the non-PDF bodies."
"Anything to link the troopers?" Ulrich asked.
"Nothing concrete, beyond them all currently being stationed at Zander Plain, as yet. All have numerous disciplinary infractions, as you might expect from someone inclined to get involved in gang activity. From the leniency of some of the disciplinary sentences they may well have been protected by someone higher in the command chain."
"How come you identified them so quickly and none of the rest?"
Cormack raised his head. "Reverse lookup. Does this gene sequence match the record of this person is a fast process, finding which of 30 billion or more records a sequence matches takes much longer."
"Anything from the prisoners?"
There was a cough from the other side of the room where Darien was sitting. One of the nearby storm troopers was covering him and almost pretending to be nonchalant about it.
"The chasteners report that so far they are all sticking to the same story. Mostly they just hung about not asking questions. They would kill or drive off anyone making trouble in the area and get paid well for it. Every month or two they would go to an area of the sewers where there would be a large number of boxes fitted with antigrav. They would move the boxes through the sewers to the warehouse we assaulted. Then a day or two later the PDF would arrive with trucks and take the boxes away. They assumed to the airfield but never knew for sure. PDF and gangers never talked to each other, except for Trask."
"What was in the boxes?"
"They never asked."
"Really?" Snorted Ulrich.
"Every now and then Trask would pick on someone who got too nosey, and kill them in some demonstrative fashion. The rest lost their curiosity rather quickly."
"Size and description of boxes?" Cormack asked.
"Couple of the more talkative said about the size of 2 coffins stacked one on the other. Something's got them fairly fixated on death right now. Grey metal, something mechanical near the floor. Very heavy. The antigrav made them easy to move but if they hit a wall you could tell there was a lot of mass there."
"Sounds like a heresy-era monotask haulage crate." Cormack mused. Then shook his head. "But beyond technical specifications in ancient records I have only ever seen 3 extant examples, none of which were remotely functional. I cannot think of anything you could put in one of those that would be more valuable than the container. Antigrav units that small, powerful and reliable. You could stuff it full of star opals and blood rubies and the mechanicus would tip out the contents and pay ten times that just for the box." He tailed off lost in thought.
"One more thing" Darien added. "The survivors were adamant that Trask was in the safe room before the attack began, but I've looked at the bodies recovered, none look like him."
"Could it have been one of the more heavily mutilated ones?" Kryn asked.
"Maybe. But he slipped out once..."
"Thank you for your input you can leave us now." Ulrich waved towards the door and the stormtrooper behind Darien placed a guiding hand on his shoulder. "Marshal, that concludes our analysis of the data retrieved from the raid. You may go."
Kryn glared for a moment, angry at being dismissed as if she was a common trooper. Then turned on her heals and slammed the door behind her.
"Was that necessary?" Sal asked.
"Yes." Responded Tarik abruptly. "Anything else?"
Sal cleared her throat. "There was one thing. Nothing to do with the warehouse. You asked for a survey of the system. It is still ongoing. There are several major anomalies so far uncovered. The heavy use of genecoding, is as far as I am aware unique on a non-forge world. Even on those that do use it extensively I do not recall any genecoding their entire population at recruitment and using that as a standard ID."
"Is the equipment rare?"
"Not especially." Shrugged Cormack as he wandered over to Tarik – inspected his facial bruise with a professional curiosity and reached for a medical wand at his waist. The wand hummed and the bruise faded without trace. "Valuable, and its use here seems profligate. But then it is attached to an effective forgeworld so there may be some historical reason, perhaps a specialised manufactory that left them with a surplus here."
"Level of psyker and cult activity more than 7 standard deviations below the mean for a system this size. Every citizen does 2 years of mandatory PDF service..."
"That isn't that unusual." Tarik scoffed. "Most worlds have conscription."
"But here everyone serves." Sal waited and when she did not get the response she wanted. "From governors to nobles to the lowest hive trash. Everyone serves. No exceptions. No bribes. And they serve exclusively in the PDF."
Tarik and Ulrich exchanged shrugs.
"OK. That's how it is supposed to work and they actually get it to work. Other than as a case study for the Administratum I don't see the issue."
Sal sighed, resigned. "That many people coming of age a year and the number of required trainers, the logistics and supplies... there are 345,931 separate registered PDF facilities across the system. 230947 are registered as in active use with another 108,583 registered as inactive."
"Seems a lot." Tarik commented.
"Some have been destroyed by disaster or enemy action and are awaiting repair or rebuilding. Some are defence bunkers or staging posts that can be activated in the event of an invasion. Some were just underused and had their functions transferred to another facility."
Cormack stared at the ceiling seemingly confused. "While I don't wish to doubt the thoroughness of your research your numbers don't add up."
"Correct there are 6401 unaccounted for. Some undoubtedly have been destroyed and the records have not been updated. To date I have tracked down 784 separate incidents of fraud where the base has been shut down but maintenance or personnel costs have continued to be paid. When we are finished here I will pass these on to the Arbites to deal with."
"So?"
"The commander of each PDF facility has access to central records. To verifying assigned recruits are the ones who actually arrive and access to the genetic and training record of each recruit to ensure those who are sent are suitable."
"And."
"6400 of the unlisted facilities do not use this access or only on sporadic occasions for the purposes of the frauds I mentioned."
"And the other one?"
"Has downloaded the entire genetic and training records of every single PDF new recruit every year as far back as records exist. And in that time has never had a single assigned recruit." She waited for that to sink in. "According to records it is a training outpost, with basic defences on the far side of Tetran III. Standard complement should be around 50."
"So someone has been collecting the genetic record of every single Tetran citizen." Ulrich stood and turned to Tarik. "Maybe we should go pay them a visit."