There was a sharp knock on the door and with a grunt, Amaron got out of his favourite chair and slowly made his way through the candlelit room towards the door. The years had taken their toll on the old inquisitor. His hair was now grey, his bones tired and his legs shaky. Only with the help of his trusty cane did he finally reach the steel front door of his tiny house.

"Open up this very instant citizen, in the name of the Emperor," came an impatient voice from the other side, followed by several loud bangs on the steel bulkhead.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Amaron muttered, fumbling with the locks. "No need to call the emperor down from his throne." The door swung open, revealing a grim-looking tall imperial guardsman.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"Identify yourself, citizen," the man barked at Amaron.

Amaron obliged, presenting a trembling hand. After scanning the outstretched hand, the guardsman's finger jabbed at his console impatiently. Amaron could see the man's eyes scanning the flickering screen. Slowly, realization dawned on his face. The guardsman promptly turned white, lower lip shaking as he bowed his head before at the aged man. Amaron had seen that face a thousand times, the title "Inquisitor" often had that effect.

"Si...sir...I'm so sorry, I...they didn't tell me-"

"At ease, comrade, you were just doing your duty. I'm just a retired old man these days. One that prefers to keep a low profile," Amaron assured the man.

"Of course sir, I'll leave you alone," the guardsman bowed again, eager to leave. Amaron was just about to close the door when his old instinct kicked in again.

"Tell me, guardsman," he called after the guard, "what was the issue?"

"Oh, nothing. It's beneath a man of your station, sir," the guard bowed again.

"Humour an old man."

"Sir. Yes, sir. We have had some...thefts from the imperial garrison lately."

"Times are tough," Amaron conceded.

"Yes, sir. But you see...these thefts, they're... strange."

Amaron had a bad feeling way down in his gut but didn't show anything.

"How so, guardsman?"

"They break into the most well-defended parts of the garrison and seem to grab things right from right under our noses. No matter how many guards we put on watch, it doesn't matter. At first, the officers thought we were neglecting our duty but...Sir, I stood guard myself. Alongside a dozen other men. I swear by my honour that we didn't take my eyes off the goods for even a second. Yet when we checked, somehow, some things had gone missing."

"Go on, "Amaron sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, a headache starting to manifest itself behind his forehead.

"But the weirdest thing sir, they don't even steal anything valuable. Just food and basic medicines. And, even stranger, it seems they're distributing it amongst the population in this district. For free. That's why we are out here knocking on doors. You think it could be some cultist ploy?"

Gritting his teeth, Amaron swore under his breath before shaking his head.

"I wouldn't worry too much soldier, I'm sure the situation will resolve itself soon enough," he nodded towards the soldier before closing and bolting the steel door to his house again. With tense eyes, he watched as the man continued down the street through the window. Only when the man was out of sight did he close and board up the windows, eyes full of frustration.

"GIRL!"

His roar was met with an excited giggle.

"This is not a game, girl. Come out this instant!"

"Come find me," a high pitched voice teased back from the darkness.

Amaron swore to himself. His house was smaller than most and he was a tracker trained by the very best. Yet if the blasted girl didn't want to be found, he knew he had no chance in hell of finding her. It was as if she could disappear into thin air.

"I'm not kidding," he roared, taking a resolute step forward. Or so he thought. Back in the days, his every move had been sure and true, full of strength. But that was before his body had failed him and old age had sapped his last remaining strength. He stumbled on the carpet, lost the grip on his cane and tumbled forwards. The floor raced up towards his face.

Yet he never struck the hard concrete. In an instant, before he could tumble forward, she was there, slender arms around his shoulder, her tiny body wedged between him and the floor, supporting his full weight. The first time it had happened Amaron had been scared that his massive bulk would snap her slender form in half. Now, a hundred times later, he knew the little lizard girl was much stronger than she seemed.

"Father," she cried out, eyes full of worry as they slowly sank towards the floor together. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry. I'm here now! See? I'm here! I'm so sorry. Sorry."

Amaron looked up at the girl's face. Beneath the scales and feathers, she had her mother's face, he had recognised the girl's heritage the very moment he had laid eyes on her. It felt like a hundred years ago when Amaron had first met the girl's mother, an Eldar farseer and a fierce one at that, that day when the woman had stormed in and threatened to kill him. If someone had told him on that day that he would end up raising the child of an Eldar farseer he would have considered it a bad joke.

He didn't remember much from those days anymore, but he still remembered that fateful night when a harlequin Solitaire had shown up out of nowhere, handing him a sleeping little babe in a blanket.

The female Solitaire hadn't said much, yet her haunted eyes had told a tale of great sorrow and urgency. All she had said was that the child would never be safe amongst her own kin and that he must tell no one about her. Then she had left and Amaron had never seen her again. It really seemed like a hundred years ago. Yet it couldn't be. For the girl looking at him with big anxious eyes could hardly be more than eight. Eldar aged slowly, but not that slowly. No, his ageing mind must be playing tricks with him.

One might wonder why an imperial inquisitor would ever take in a deformed Eldar orphan. Especially these days, when the Eldar were on the warpath, rallying behind what the girl herself dismissed as a false idol, egged on by the resurgence of dreams of old glory. The girl had never been very Eldar like. She had the arrogance, for sure, and even though her deformity, there was no question about her heritage. But Amaron had dealt with Eldar har his long career, and there was something off about the girl. She wasn't quite right. No that wasn't it, he thought, slowly shaking his head as he looked into her worried eyes.

She was right, and the rest of them were all wrong.

Amaron gazed into the eyes of his fate, acknowledged that there had never been any doubt. From the first moment he had held the child in his arms, he had done everything in his might to keep her safe. Stepping away from everything, abandoning both duty and rank, from that moment on he had lived his life only for her. A lifetime of service and resolve traded away in an instant. For one single little alien life.

Yet for all that, as soon as he had regained his footing, he glowered at the child, who blushed and looked away.

"It wasn't me! I didn't do it!" She blabbered, a little too quickly, the words leaving her mouth so fast they all but tripped over each other.

"Didn't do what?" Amaron inquired flatly.

"Didn't do whatever you're mad about?" the girl tried sheepishly.

Amaron sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You reckless child. What do you think would happen to you if they catch you? They would shoot you on sight."

"Ha! As if! Those guardsmen couldn't catch me in my sleep. And I doubt they could even hit me for that matter, especially with those clumsy monkey weapons of yours." The girl spat back, a smug expression on her face. So arrogant, so sure of her superiority. The girl was an Eldar alright.

"So it was you."

"I didn't say that. I just said that if it was me who did whatever you think I did, those clowns would never catch me."

"Clowns huh? Yet here they were, knocking on our door. You led them right to our doorstep. So if you wanted to show how clever you are, you failed, let me tell you that!"

"That's not why I did it!"

"Why then?"

The girl looked down, shuffling her feet, mumbling to herself. "They were hungry."

"What? Speak up, girl!"

She looked up again, eyes full of fire. "They were hungry, ok?! The people on our block. Our neighbours, our friends. And Missa's child was sick. She needed medicine. Someone had to do something."

"They're not your friends, idiot girl! Get that through your thick xeno skull. Those very same people would turn you over to the guards in a heartbeat if they knew it was you."

"Well, they don't! I left...I mean whoever gave those things to them just left it on their doorstep and then ran! Ha, so there!"

Amaron shook his head, shuffled over to his chair and sunk down. "And what do you think happened to those people now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your 'friends' that you think you helped. You know the penalty of getting caught in possession of stolen imperial goods?"

"No," the girl responded sullenly. "Spanking?"

"Death, girl. They'll be shot as traitors. Every last man, woman and child."

"No!"

"Yes. That's the kind of world we live in. I've been trying to tell you. But you, you simply won't listen."

"No, I won't let them die. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Amaron knew that voice. He knew that look in her eyes. This discussion was over, the girl would never back down now. He had gambled telling the child those peoples fate. Gambled and lost. Now he had made it worse. He sighed, accepting his fate.

"I guess I could see what I can do," Even old and retired, Amaron's word would surely be enough to save those people. But in doing so he would draw attention to himself. And, in turn, to her. She didn't understand. He didn't care about the supplies. Or even about those people awaiting execution. He worried only for the girl in front of him, who, at his words, lit up the room with a smile and bounded into his arms.

"You will? Really? Oh, thank you, father! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She showered him with kisses, ignoring his feeble attempts to fend her off.

"Yes, yes. But you have to promise to never do anything like that again, you understand?"

"Yes, of course, father. I promise!" She had made the same promise a hundred times, each time with as much sincerity as a used spaceship dealer. Amaron shooks his head. After springing those people, they would have to move again. Staying here would be unwise, he could see that in her eyes. This time he would go even further away from the core worlds, out towards the rim. Anything to keep that smile safe.

The feathered little girl snuggled up into the chair next to him and slowly Amaron fell asleep to the flickering screen lights of the holo screen. Only when he was sound asleep did the girl carefully get up again and tenderly place another blanket over the sleeping old inquisitor. Then, silent as a ghost, she moved around the room and one by one blew out all the candles.

The smell of smoke filled the room.

"Don't worry father, I've learned my lesson. Next time, I'll be careful."

The End