A black vessel moved into the system, a huge ship shaped much like a
dagger- sleek and deadly. Hundreds of massive turrets adorned the hull,
though they looked like tiny spines compared to the bulk to the four mile
long warship. Massive cannons were arrayed at the prow and dorsal wings of
the ship, and launch bays stretched the length of both sides. A trio of
gargantuan torpedo tubes jutted out of the prow, able to launch torpedoes
capable to destroying similar sized ships with a single salvo- or maybe
even an even larger target, if the need was great.
A trio of defence monitor ships- each less then half the size of the black vessel- moved to intercept, hail with demands for clearance codes. Return transmissions sated the squadron's questions, and they quickly withdrew from the massive warship.
'The Iron Fist' swiftly travelled to the fourth planet, Tereskor Herbantius, and established high orbit around the polar caps, shadowed away from the star fort that protected the planet's surface. They did not want any undue attention.
Within half an hour of settling into orbit, a single shuttle launched from the vessel's starboard launch bays. It swiftly dived into the planet's atmosphere, unnoticed by Imperial air traffic control, and landed five kilometres away from the capital city, Vastol.
Sure that its cargo was safely upon the planet's surface, 'The Iron Fist' withdrew from orbit and back into the blackness of space.
Chapter 2 – Trial and Punishment
"That's him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, hang him at noon."
* * *
Wildthing woke up violently, and screamed in agony. His head felt like it was caved in and pressing against his skull, and pain tore throughout his body. He felt like he'd been through hell and back, which wasn't far from the truth.
Biting down on the pain, Wild managed to sit up without fainting. His eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, but was hardly worth it. He was in a tiny room, maybe two meters by three, with a single ancient mattress as the only piece of comfort within its bounds. A single door lay at one end of the cell, and it looked tough enough to take a krak missile.
None of these things really interested Wild. It was the faint feeling of nothingness that bothered him.
He suddenly realised that he could no longer hear the voice in his head, but didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. Maybe it was gone, suppressed, trapped. Or maybe it was hiding.
Wild shivered at the thought, and started looking around the cell again. Nothing, nothing of interest or any possible means of escape.
Sitting back against the wall, Wild stared at the metal door and let his mind vacate.
* * *
"There's no doubt about it, sir, that man is responsible for the death of one of our citizens. Cold blooded murder, and the use of witch-magiks to boot."
"You have proof?"
"Yes sir, we had one of our sanctioned psykers screen the whole area. He found psychic imprints all over the place, and all over the prisoner."
The Marshall nodded, thoughtful.
"The survivor?"
"Still recovering in the infirmary. We won't be getting any statements for a while."
"Then there's no doubt that the sentence dictated by the Arbitrator- Colonel shall be carried out."
Lieutenant Herdish smiled. The Marshall was obviously pleased with his good work, since he was the one who had compiled all the information and presented it neatly for his review.
"What of the off worlder's commanding officer?" the Marshall added, looking up from the data slate for half a moment.
"He has not yet been told of his man's heresy, sir. The Arbitrator- Colonel decided that to do so may invoke the officer's wrath, and interfere with the proceedings."
"Hmmm...yes, quite right. Quite right indeed. This Colonel...Rakash, I shall have a word with him after the execution. He needs to be told that he needs to keep an eye out for such things more vigilantly in the future. I understand they are without a Commissar at this moment in time?"
"So it would seem, sir."
"In that case, I shall assign one of my own to fill in for the time being. We can't have an army of undisciplined savages in our city."
"As ever, you are one hundred percent correct, my lord Marshal," Herdish said, bowing ever so slightly. The old man grunted, as if the suggestion was nothing but the obvious truth.
"You may go now, Mr Herdish."
Saluting, Lieutenant Herdish left the Marshal's office.
* * *
"Where is he?"
The prison guard didn't even blink as he stared directly back into Rakash's glare.
"Whom are you enquiring about, sir?"
Rakash gave the guard a sour smile, as if to say 'don't mess me around'. The guard didn't seem to notice, and to be fair to him Rakash knew that he probably didn't have a clue who he was trying to find.
"One of my men, a large man with long hair. Has the name 'Wildthing' on his dog tags. He went missing earlier today, and I've been told there's been an incident in the building he was barracked in. Therefore it's likely he was involved, and thus taken into custody."
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know about that, sir. You'll have to ask the Arbitrator-Colonel, and he's away on business at the moment."
Rakash bit his lip with frustration. The person who he needed to see was always away.
"Who's in charge now?"
The guard took his eyes away from Rakash for the first time, and looked down the hallway. He pointed to the doorway on the end.
"Through that door you'll find Day Captain Kierson. He's in charge until the Arbitrator-Colonel returns."
"Thank you..." Rakash muttered, nodded curtly. The guard saluted politely and returned to attention. Rakash paused for a moment and then returned the salute loosely. He then walked down the hall towards the door he was directed towards.
* * *
There was a curt knock on the Marshall's office, and the rotund old officer looked up from his paperwork with an irritated expression on his face. He reached over the bundle of date slates and pressed the intercom button down.
"Can this wait, Herdish?"
"It's Colonel Rakash of the 27th Catachan to see you, sir," came the reply, as if it was a yes or no answer. Emperor forbid if I ever get this work finished he thought angrily.
"Very well, send him in."
The doors opened, and a trio of soldiers marched into the office- though the Marshall noted the middle man's marching was well below his standard of parade drill. The man saluted loosely, though his face told of how much he disliked the gesture.
"Colonel Rakash, I presume?"
"Aye," he grunted back, the flayed tissue of his left cheek twitching slightly. His hands were balled into fists, and slightly reddened. That's why Herdish assigned the two Honour Guards, the Marshall concluded. This barbarian wouldn't do anything to him, not if he knew what was good for him.
"Well?" the Marshall asked tersely, "what do you want?"
"One of my men is being held in your prison, I wish to see him."
"Ah yes... Guardsman Wildthing..." the Marshall signed, showing distaste from using such a feral name. He shook his head slightly, but before he said anything more Rakash interrupted.
"Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing, Marshall. I do not believe he should be detained without contact from his senior officers. There are rules against these things, rules that men like you devised if I am not mistaken..."
"Mind your tongue!" barked one of the Honour Guards, a massive brute in segmented carapace armour. The power sword that hung from his belt didn't look much used, but Rakash wasn't about to under estimate him.
"Major..." the Marshall soothed, "I'm sure our honoured guest didn't mean to sound as rude as he did. Nor did he mean to seem as feral and barbaric as he did when he assaulted Day Captain Kierson..."
"He denied me access, so I reminded him of my rank," Rakash stated bluntly.
"You broke his nose and his right cheekbone, or so the medical orderlies state in their report."
"Lucky he didn't mess with someone else in my regiment then. I assure you they aren't as easy going as I am."
The two Honour Guards tensed and gripped the hilts of their blades, ready to intervene if things got worse. Rakash merely smiled grimly at the Marshall. He knew he had more then a small chance of defeating all three of these men at once, if need be. He had nothing to be truly worried about, so he relaxed. Tended to scare people as a bi-product as well. The Marshall seemed unimpressed.
"I to am a reasonable man," he replied with a hint of sarcasm, "that is why I am allowing a trial to be conducted. If the Arbitrators had their way he'd be hung, drawn and quartered by now- adorning the highest spires of this city."
"Trial," scoffed Rakash, "well I hope fair justice is carried out."
"It will be," the Marshall replied, choosing to ignore Rakash's tone, "the heretic will be found guilty and executed. How much fairer can justice get?"
Rakash repressed the urge to bite the fat man's head off, and clenched his jaw tightly.
Not if I have my way, he thought grimly.
* * *
The rooftop of tower 100 was full to bursting point, bar an island of calm that sat in the dead centre of the plaza that was built upon it.
Tower 100, the tower of the Arbitrators.
The crowds were roaring their anger, baying for blood. The Arbitrators were pushing them back from the centre of the plaza, where there was a platform built. A dozen or so men stood upon it, and a single high throne was placed in the centre. There sat the High Judge of Tereskor Herbantius, a towering man who was corded to the point of appearing to be built of flesh coloured machine parts. His black robes and silver chains of office made him appear extremely sinister, and his bald head made his face look sharp and hawkish. Two men stood on either side of his throne, the Arbitrator-Colonel of Vastol city, and Day Captain Kierson, whose face was heavily bandaged and revealing only his right eye. Both looked extremely upset when they saw Colonel Rakash enter the inner circle of the plaza and set onto the platform.
"Identify yourself," snapped the High Judge, glaring down at Rakash.
"Colonel Mikael Gaberial Rakash of the 27th Catachan Imperial Guard Regiment," he replied, locking eyes with the black clad giant. He nodded, and allowed Rakash to come closer.
"I am Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing's defence council," Rakash stated. The Judge raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so? Well, it is within your rights as his commanding officer, though I hardly see why such an officer as yourself would wish to discredit himself by siding with a tainted."
Rakash smiled grimly, but said nothing.
The crowds roaring reached a climax suddenly, and all those upon the platform turned to look. Someone was coming. An Arbitrator in black carapace armour stepped forwards and bowed slightly towards the judge, who nodded. The Arbitrator removed his helmet, revealing a rather boring face with a shaved head, and tucked it under his arm.
"We bring forth the accused!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the din like a foghorn cutting through mist, "Wildthing, Gunnery Sergeant, Catachan 27th, accused with Murder of the first degree and witchcraft!"
The crowd booed and jeered, throwing objects at another figure being dragged through the masses. A pair of burly guards held each arm, though Rakash knew that Wildthing could kill both of them if he wanted to escape. It was the trio of Sanctioned Psykers that followed in his wake that held him in check.
Wild was a mess- his hair ripped and torn with blood dripping over his face, bruises and cut covering his skin and a general taste of pain that men sometimes carried like an aura about them. Wild had suffered, and suffered more then the physical scars showed.
"I see you followed code of conduct with military prisoners," Rakash hissed angrily to the pair of Arbitrator chiefs next to him. Kierson sneered in contempt.
"We broke no rules. Scum like him have no rights."
Petty man, thought Rakash. I punch you, you torture him. Justice will be paid, all in due time. He promised himself that for his and Wild's sakes.
* * *
The laughter was unbearable, but Wild could do nothing to stop it. He was too weak, and the three psyks behind him tripled that. There was nothing he could do bar listen.
Such promise, wasted. Such things you and I could of done, if you but had a stronger will. The galaxy would of burned, spelling out your name to the Gods. All the knowledge in the Universe would have been within your grasp. All the truths known to you...
"Lies..." Wild whispered, so quietly that none could of heard even if the crowds were not there. The laughter continued, yet the voice still managed to talk.
You deny the truth that you know blind to be, hiding behind human ignorance. It is not the path you are destined to tread, and you know it. You know it in your soul, Marnier...
"No..."
Humans are weak, and so are you. Until you embrace the truth, you are no better then any of them. Even those pets behind us, they are nothing. Compared to what you and I can be, together, they are ants waiting to be crushed beneath our heel. This world will burn, as will all others. You know the truth, open your eyes...
Wildthing scrunched his eyes up in defiance, yet it only seemed to fuel the voice's laughter.
* * *
Noon was approaching fast, and the air temperature soared. The force field that protected the roof from the outside world darkened to compensate but still the temperature was oppressive. No-one seemed to notice, such was their zeal to see the witch brought to justice.
The accused was thrown to the ground before the High Judge's throne and the Arbitrators stood in a circle around his prone and restrained form, the psykers hanging back slightly and murmuring to themselves.
"You are the accused, Wildthing, are you not?" the High Judge demanded, beginning the trial. He got no answer from Wildthing, despite a flurry of savage kicks to the ribs to try and stir him. The High Judge scowled and instead turned to Rakash. "He is your man, correct?"
Rakash nodded stiffly.
"I request he be allowed to stand to face his charges honourably."
"Denied. The risk is too great. Arbitrator-Colonel Erinstein, bring forth the evidence for my review."
The Arbitrator-Colonel nodded and moved to a small metal table that was placed nearby. He was a fairly unimpressive man, average height and build and plain faced. Rakash guessed that was why he made such a good Arbitrator, the ability to blend in. He picked up a clear plastic bag and returned to pass it up to the High Judge.
"Exhibit A, a bloodied knife. Four inches long, single sided blade. Blood analyzed, coated in the blood of one Derian Gervetti and the blood of one Niri Heslin."
The High Judge looked at the knife for a few moments, before placing it down on the desk before him.
"The fates of those two individuals?" he asked absently.
"Gervetti is dead, in the morgue. Heslin is in intensive care, recovering from trauma."
"So no statements from either of them," the High Judge stated dryly. "Very well, anything else? Fingerprints?"
"None, High Judge."
"Very well, next exhibit then please."
* * *
A hooded and cloaked figure stood in the crowds, watching the trial with a mixture of interest and anticipation. Tall and slender, the figure radiated a feeling of power that those nearby were eager to move away from. A small island set the figure apart from everyone else, and quiet slowly took hold of the crowd as they sensed the feeling of malice that was spreading through the air.
One of the psykers sniffed at the air suddenly, as if sensing the new threat. In turn both his companions became alert, though none knew what or where this feeling of fear came from. The cloaked figure cursed softly, and made an effort to mask the psychic aura. Though the trio of psykers seemed to relax a little, the figure knew that they were on the lookout.
The time was near, and everyone was in place. All that was left was to wait for the perfect time.
* * *
"Enough."
The High Judge slammed his metal hammer down upon the metal plate upon his desk, throwing up sparks. The crowd was utterly quiet. All the assembled prosecution stood to attention, awaiting his sentence. Only one man, Wild's only defence, did not.
"Enough? What about Wild's defence?" Rakash snarled lowly.
"The evidence is clear to me, as is the Emperor's Will," the High Judge retorted coldly, "there shall be no defence, no delaying justice. Do you wish to side with the heretic?"
Rakash grimaced so hard that he bit into his lip with his teeth and drew blood. His muscles tensed and adrenaline began to pump. His fingers twitched, and his mind wandered to the hidden sheath down his back. He wasn't going to sit by and watch his man go down without even a fair trial, but then he reminded himself that violence wasn't always the best answer. He might be able to kill all those on the platform, but the whole Arbites Precinct? No, that would just leave this city with less defences, and his own regiment without its commanding officer. He loosened slightly, and forced a smile.
He didn't have a clue what to do next.
* * *
The figure smiled grimly. Rakash, after all these years, there he was. Of course it was known that his mob was here on Tereskor Herbantius, but it was still quite a sight seeing him in person. Still as ugly as ever, the cloaked figure mused with a low chuckle, but that's to be expected from such a man.
The time was very close now, and the figure started to push through the crowds towards the platform. No-one seemed to want to get in the way, and rightly so. The aura of discomfort dissuaded any from getting too near. The trio of psykers seemed to pick it up again, and all looked directly at the figure- looks of fear upon their faces. They knew what were approaching, and the thought of it chilled their hearts.
A trio of defence monitor ships- each less then half the size of the black vessel- moved to intercept, hail with demands for clearance codes. Return transmissions sated the squadron's questions, and they quickly withdrew from the massive warship.
'The Iron Fist' swiftly travelled to the fourth planet, Tereskor Herbantius, and established high orbit around the polar caps, shadowed away from the star fort that protected the planet's surface. They did not want any undue attention.
Within half an hour of settling into orbit, a single shuttle launched from the vessel's starboard launch bays. It swiftly dived into the planet's atmosphere, unnoticed by Imperial air traffic control, and landed five kilometres away from the capital city, Vastol.
Sure that its cargo was safely upon the planet's surface, 'The Iron Fist' withdrew from orbit and back into the blackness of space.
Chapter 2 – Trial and Punishment
"That's him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, hang him at noon."
* * *
Wildthing woke up violently, and screamed in agony. His head felt like it was caved in and pressing against his skull, and pain tore throughout his body. He felt like he'd been through hell and back, which wasn't far from the truth.
Biting down on the pain, Wild managed to sit up without fainting. His eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, but was hardly worth it. He was in a tiny room, maybe two meters by three, with a single ancient mattress as the only piece of comfort within its bounds. A single door lay at one end of the cell, and it looked tough enough to take a krak missile.
None of these things really interested Wild. It was the faint feeling of nothingness that bothered him.
He suddenly realised that he could no longer hear the voice in his head, but didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. Maybe it was gone, suppressed, trapped. Or maybe it was hiding.
Wild shivered at the thought, and started looking around the cell again. Nothing, nothing of interest or any possible means of escape.
Sitting back against the wall, Wild stared at the metal door and let his mind vacate.
* * *
"There's no doubt about it, sir, that man is responsible for the death of one of our citizens. Cold blooded murder, and the use of witch-magiks to boot."
"You have proof?"
"Yes sir, we had one of our sanctioned psykers screen the whole area. He found psychic imprints all over the place, and all over the prisoner."
The Marshall nodded, thoughtful.
"The survivor?"
"Still recovering in the infirmary. We won't be getting any statements for a while."
"Then there's no doubt that the sentence dictated by the Arbitrator- Colonel shall be carried out."
Lieutenant Herdish smiled. The Marshall was obviously pleased with his good work, since he was the one who had compiled all the information and presented it neatly for his review.
"What of the off worlder's commanding officer?" the Marshall added, looking up from the data slate for half a moment.
"He has not yet been told of his man's heresy, sir. The Arbitrator- Colonel decided that to do so may invoke the officer's wrath, and interfere with the proceedings."
"Hmmm...yes, quite right. Quite right indeed. This Colonel...Rakash, I shall have a word with him after the execution. He needs to be told that he needs to keep an eye out for such things more vigilantly in the future. I understand they are without a Commissar at this moment in time?"
"So it would seem, sir."
"In that case, I shall assign one of my own to fill in for the time being. We can't have an army of undisciplined savages in our city."
"As ever, you are one hundred percent correct, my lord Marshal," Herdish said, bowing ever so slightly. The old man grunted, as if the suggestion was nothing but the obvious truth.
"You may go now, Mr Herdish."
Saluting, Lieutenant Herdish left the Marshal's office.
* * *
"Where is he?"
The prison guard didn't even blink as he stared directly back into Rakash's glare.
"Whom are you enquiring about, sir?"
Rakash gave the guard a sour smile, as if to say 'don't mess me around'. The guard didn't seem to notice, and to be fair to him Rakash knew that he probably didn't have a clue who he was trying to find.
"One of my men, a large man with long hair. Has the name 'Wildthing' on his dog tags. He went missing earlier today, and I've been told there's been an incident in the building he was barracked in. Therefore it's likely he was involved, and thus taken into custody."
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know about that, sir. You'll have to ask the Arbitrator-Colonel, and he's away on business at the moment."
Rakash bit his lip with frustration. The person who he needed to see was always away.
"Who's in charge now?"
The guard took his eyes away from Rakash for the first time, and looked down the hallway. He pointed to the doorway on the end.
"Through that door you'll find Day Captain Kierson. He's in charge until the Arbitrator-Colonel returns."
"Thank you..." Rakash muttered, nodded curtly. The guard saluted politely and returned to attention. Rakash paused for a moment and then returned the salute loosely. He then walked down the hall towards the door he was directed towards.
* * *
There was a curt knock on the Marshall's office, and the rotund old officer looked up from his paperwork with an irritated expression on his face. He reached over the bundle of date slates and pressed the intercom button down.
"Can this wait, Herdish?"
"It's Colonel Rakash of the 27th Catachan to see you, sir," came the reply, as if it was a yes or no answer. Emperor forbid if I ever get this work finished he thought angrily.
"Very well, send him in."
The doors opened, and a trio of soldiers marched into the office- though the Marshall noted the middle man's marching was well below his standard of parade drill. The man saluted loosely, though his face told of how much he disliked the gesture.
"Colonel Rakash, I presume?"
"Aye," he grunted back, the flayed tissue of his left cheek twitching slightly. His hands were balled into fists, and slightly reddened. That's why Herdish assigned the two Honour Guards, the Marshall concluded. This barbarian wouldn't do anything to him, not if he knew what was good for him.
"Well?" the Marshall asked tersely, "what do you want?"
"One of my men is being held in your prison, I wish to see him."
"Ah yes... Guardsman Wildthing..." the Marshall signed, showing distaste from using such a feral name. He shook his head slightly, but before he said anything more Rakash interrupted.
"Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing, Marshall. I do not believe he should be detained without contact from his senior officers. There are rules against these things, rules that men like you devised if I am not mistaken..."
"Mind your tongue!" barked one of the Honour Guards, a massive brute in segmented carapace armour. The power sword that hung from his belt didn't look much used, but Rakash wasn't about to under estimate him.
"Major..." the Marshall soothed, "I'm sure our honoured guest didn't mean to sound as rude as he did. Nor did he mean to seem as feral and barbaric as he did when he assaulted Day Captain Kierson..."
"He denied me access, so I reminded him of my rank," Rakash stated bluntly.
"You broke his nose and his right cheekbone, or so the medical orderlies state in their report."
"Lucky he didn't mess with someone else in my regiment then. I assure you they aren't as easy going as I am."
The two Honour Guards tensed and gripped the hilts of their blades, ready to intervene if things got worse. Rakash merely smiled grimly at the Marshall. He knew he had more then a small chance of defeating all three of these men at once, if need be. He had nothing to be truly worried about, so he relaxed. Tended to scare people as a bi-product as well. The Marshall seemed unimpressed.
"I to am a reasonable man," he replied with a hint of sarcasm, "that is why I am allowing a trial to be conducted. If the Arbitrators had their way he'd be hung, drawn and quartered by now- adorning the highest spires of this city."
"Trial," scoffed Rakash, "well I hope fair justice is carried out."
"It will be," the Marshall replied, choosing to ignore Rakash's tone, "the heretic will be found guilty and executed. How much fairer can justice get?"
Rakash repressed the urge to bite the fat man's head off, and clenched his jaw tightly.
Not if I have my way, he thought grimly.
* * *
The rooftop of tower 100 was full to bursting point, bar an island of calm that sat in the dead centre of the plaza that was built upon it.
Tower 100, the tower of the Arbitrators.
The crowds were roaring their anger, baying for blood. The Arbitrators were pushing them back from the centre of the plaza, where there was a platform built. A dozen or so men stood upon it, and a single high throne was placed in the centre. There sat the High Judge of Tereskor Herbantius, a towering man who was corded to the point of appearing to be built of flesh coloured machine parts. His black robes and silver chains of office made him appear extremely sinister, and his bald head made his face look sharp and hawkish. Two men stood on either side of his throne, the Arbitrator-Colonel of Vastol city, and Day Captain Kierson, whose face was heavily bandaged and revealing only his right eye. Both looked extremely upset when they saw Colonel Rakash enter the inner circle of the plaza and set onto the platform.
"Identify yourself," snapped the High Judge, glaring down at Rakash.
"Colonel Mikael Gaberial Rakash of the 27th Catachan Imperial Guard Regiment," he replied, locking eyes with the black clad giant. He nodded, and allowed Rakash to come closer.
"I am Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing's defence council," Rakash stated. The Judge raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so? Well, it is within your rights as his commanding officer, though I hardly see why such an officer as yourself would wish to discredit himself by siding with a tainted."
Rakash smiled grimly, but said nothing.
The crowds roaring reached a climax suddenly, and all those upon the platform turned to look. Someone was coming. An Arbitrator in black carapace armour stepped forwards and bowed slightly towards the judge, who nodded. The Arbitrator removed his helmet, revealing a rather boring face with a shaved head, and tucked it under his arm.
"We bring forth the accused!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the din like a foghorn cutting through mist, "Wildthing, Gunnery Sergeant, Catachan 27th, accused with Murder of the first degree and witchcraft!"
The crowd booed and jeered, throwing objects at another figure being dragged through the masses. A pair of burly guards held each arm, though Rakash knew that Wildthing could kill both of them if he wanted to escape. It was the trio of Sanctioned Psykers that followed in his wake that held him in check.
Wild was a mess- his hair ripped and torn with blood dripping over his face, bruises and cut covering his skin and a general taste of pain that men sometimes carried like an aura about them. Wild had suffered, and suffered more then the physical scars showed.
"I see you followed code of conduct with military prisoners," Rakash hissed angrily to the pair of Arbitrator chiefs next to him. Kierson sneered in contempt.
"We broke no rules. Scum like him have no rights."
Petty man, thought Rakash. I punch you, you torture him. Justice will be paid, all in due time. He promised himself that for his and Wild's sakes.
* * *
The laughter was unbearable, but Wild could do nothing to stop it. He was too weak, and the three psyks behind him tripled that. There was nothing he could do bar listen.
Such promise, wasted. Such things you and I could of done, if you but had a stronger will. The galaxy would of burned, spelling out your name to the Gods. All the knowledge in the Universe would have been within your grasp. All the truths known to you...
"Lies..." Wild whispered, so quietly that none could of heard even if the crowds were not there. The laughter continued, yet the voice still managed to talk.
You deny the truth that you know blind to be, hiding behind human ignorance. It is not the path you are destined to tread, and you know it. You know it in your soul, Marnier...
"No..."
Humans are weak, and so are you. Until you embrace the truth, you are no better then any of them. Even those pets behind us, they are nothing. Compared to what you and I can be, together, they are ants waiting to be crushed beneath our heel. This world will burn, as will all others. You know the truth, open your eyes...
Wildthing scrunched his eyes up in defiance, yet it only seemed to fuel the voice's laughter.
* * *
Noon was approaching fast, and the air temperature soared. The force field that protected the roof from the outside world darkened to compensate but still the temperature was oppressive. No-one seemed to notice, such was their zeal to see the witch brought to justice.
The accused was thrown to the ground before the High Judge's throne and the Arbitrators stood in a circle around his prone and restrained form, the psykers hanging back slightly and murmuring to themselves.
"You are the accused, Wildthing, are you not?" the High Judge demanded, beginning the trial. He got no answer from Wildthing, despite a flurry of savage kicks to the ribs to try and stir him. The High Judge scowled and instead turned to Rakash. "He is your man, correct?"
Rakash nodded stiffly.
"I request he be allowed to stand to face his charges honourably."
"Denied. The risk is too great. Arbitrator-Colonel Erinstein, bring forth the evidence for my review."
The Arbitrator-Colonel nodded and moved to a small metal table that was placed nearby. He was a fairly unimpressive man, average height and build and plain faced. Rakash guessed that was why he made such a good Arbitrator, the ability to blend in. He picked up a clear plastic bag and returned to pass it up to the High Judge.
"Exhibit A, a bloodied knife. Four inches long, single sided blade. Blood analyzed, coated in the blood of one Derian Gervetti and the blood of one Niri Heslin."
The High Judge looked at the knife for a few moments, before placing it down on the desk before him.
"The fates of those two individuals?" he asked absently.
"Gervetti is dead, in the morgue. Heslin is in intensive care, recovering from trauma."
"So no statements from either of them," the High Judge stated dryly. "Very well, anything else? Fingerprints?"
"None, High Judge."
"Very well, next exhibit then please."
* * *
A hooded and cloaked figure stood in the crowds, watching the trial with a mixture of interest and anticipation. Tall and slender, the figure radiated a feeling of power that those nearby were eager to move away from. A small island set the figure apart from everyone else, and quiet slowly took hold of the crowd as they sensed the feeling of malice that was spreading through the air.
One of the psykers sniffed at the air suddenly, as if sensing the new threat. In turn both his companions became alert, though none knew what or where this feeling of fear came from. The cloaked figure cursed softly, and made an effort to mask the psychic aura. Though the trio of psykers seemed to relax a little, the figure knew that they were on the lookout.
The time was near, and everyone was in place. All that was left was to wait for the perfect time.
* * *
"Enough."
The High Judge slammed his metal hammer down upon the metal plate upon his desk, throwing up sparks. The crowd was utterly quiet. All the assembled prosecution stood to attention, awaiting his sentence. Only one man, Wild's only defence, did not.
"Enough? What about Wild's defence?" Rakash snarled lowly.
"The evidence is clear to me, as is the Emperor's Will," the High Judge retorted coldly, "there shall be no defence, no delaying justice. Do you wish to side with the heretic?"
Rakash grimaced so hard that he bit into his lip with his teeth and drew blood. His muscles tensed and adrenaline began to pump. His fingers twitched, and his mind wandered to the hidden sheath down his back. He wasn't going to sit by and watch his man go down without even a fair trial, but then he reminded himself that violence wasn't always the best answer. He might be able to kill all those on the platform, but the whole Arbites Precinct? No, that would just leave this city with less defences, and his own regiment without its commanding officer. He loosened slightly, and forced a smile.
He didn't have a clue what to do next.
* * *
The figure smiled grimly. Rakash, after all these years, there he was. Of course it was known that his mob was here on Tereskor Herbantius, but it was still quite a sight seeing him in person. Still as ugly as ever, the cloaked figure mused with a low chuckle, but that's to be expected from such a man.
The time was very close now, and the figure started to push through the crowds towards the platform. No-one seemed to want to get in the way, and rightly so. The aura of discomfort dissuaded any from getting too near. The trio of psykers seemed to pick it up again, and all looked directly at the figure- looks of fear upon their faces. They knew what were approaching, and the thought of it chilled their hearts.