Chapter 1

A deep hissing sound and a cloud of steam issuing forth from the exhaust grills on the Imperial lander signalled it's halt. Numerous servitors shuffled around the ship, attaching fuel cables and similar equipment. The rear hatch slowly lowered with a hum, revealing a tall, slim figure cloaked in crimson robes over black carapace armour. Inquisitor Procuro surveyed the loading bay with an interested expression.

"Come," he said simply over his shoulder as he stepped down the ramp into the loading bay. Behind him, exiting the ship, were three figures; the first was a woman with a curvaceous body and black carapace armour similar to the Inquisitor, Interrogator Pamela Ferox. She wore dark robes that shadowed her face; the second was Trooper Viktor Yevin, a bulky man wearing the red and black carapace armoured uniform of the Inquisitorial Storm Troopers. His grenade launcher was swing swinging idly by his side, strapped to his shoulder. The third and last figure was Sergeant Rufas Harkman, an aged veteran also wearing the Inquisitorial Storm Trooper uniform. A plasma pistol and sheathed sword were clipped to his belt.

Procuro scanned the myriad of servitors and mechanical equipment until his eyes settled on a young man, clothed in an ornate Imperial Navy uniform, moving towards them. The throng of servitors parted to make way. As the man reached the Inquisitor he bent low in a respectable bow. Procure nodded his head in acknowledgement. The man raised himself out of the bow and shook Procuro's hand, a look of deepest respect on his face.

"Master Inquisitor, Lord of the Ordo Hereticus, sir," the man said, "I am Lieutenant Dresman and on behalf of this ship I welcome you aboard. You honour us with your pres-"

"Where is Captain Vauss? I was told he would be greeting me," Procuro asked, completely ignoring the man's welcome.

"Captain Vauss is busy on the bridge," Dresman said quickly, disregarding Procuro's interruption, "now if you'll kindly follow me to your sleeping quarters, you can meet the Captain later in briefing."

Procuro accepted this and followed the man out of the landing bay, his entourage behind him. After a few minutes of winding metal corridors they came to their quarters: a small common room with a few benches and old, mouldy chairs set around the edges; in the centre sat an old pict-screen collecting a thick layer of dust, at the far end of the room a corridor led to the sleeping quarters. His retinue let out a dull groan at the site. Dresman didn't seem to notice.

"Well, I'll leave everyone to get sorted, briefing's at 1700 hours," Dresman said and, without waiting for a reply, left the room in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him.

"What did you do to get us into this frak hole?" Harkman asked angrily, his scarred face surveying the old, dust-covered room.

Procuro sighed, "I'm not sure, but lets not worry now, there are more important things at hand."

Harkman let out a disbelieving snort. Truthfully, Procuro thought it had something to do with denying the Captain a promotion a few years ago, apparently he carries a grudge. He didn't care though, he would only be spending a day on the ship before he made the journey to the planet, Chlorus II, below.

"Pamela," he said, turning to Ferox beside him. "Take this time to rest, we'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," she said before turning on her heel and exiting the common room, Yevin following in her wake.

Two hours later Procuro was striding down the long corridors towards the briefing room, his retinue in tow. His presence often caused crew members to jump back in shock and quickly snap to attention; he smirked to himself as a young man in his early twenties dropped the mug of coffee he was carrying and attempted to pick it up muttering "sorry, sir" as he went. Harkman had no qualms about laughing boisterously at him.

Inspiring fear in your fellow man has it's merits, but it makes for a difficult social life, he thought as a pair of crew members leapt to their feet in a salute, their faces a clash between fear and respect.

He approached the large metal doors to the briefing room; they slid open with a deep hum and he stepped inside. The briefing room was large and circular with comfortable padded seats surrounding a central holo-projector, the lights were quiescent so only the faint emanating blue glow from the holo-projector was visible. His retinue spanned out beside him and took their seats, looking transfixed at the centre of the room.

"Welcome, Inquisitor," said a loud drawling voice beyond the central light. Procuro jumped slightly at the voice and consequently surveyed the darkness for any sign of the originator, but before he had time to make out the dark shapes, a man stepped into the light, a bionic eye replacing his right socket suddenly lit up with a dull red luminescence. The rest of the man's face appeared ancient, his balding head was covered in small patches of white hair whilst his face was a maze of wrinkles and lines, his skin seemed to droop off the bones. His small mouth, which first appeared to be just another wrinkle, opened into a leering smile.

"Lord Inquisitor, as Lieutenant Dresman has undoubtedly mentioned, you honour us with your presence," Captain Vauss said slowly, a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Procuro ignored his words and continued through the rows of seats to the central holo-projector with his red cloak billowing around his legs, he could now see every line on Vauss's face clearly under the blue haze.

"Well, Inquisitor, shall we get started?" Vauss said, his smile fixed solidly on his face, "I would much like to know why you are here; I daresay your not here to discredit me again?"

"Do not tempt me, Vauss," Procuro said heatedly.

The smile vanished from Vauss's face, replaced by a look of pure loathing. Procuro had had enough of his insubordination, he was here for a purpose and he was intent on fulfilling that purpose.

"Very well, Inquisitor," Vauss muttered, his voice shaking with bitterness, "what brings you to my domain?"

"One month ago I tracked down a group of rogue soldiers on the planet Krayen VI, in a neighbouring system," Procuro began, "I found them raiding an old shrine from the days of the Great Heresy, they had excavated a strange object of unknown properties. When we attacked they scattered and took the object with them; fortunately I managed to trace them to Chlorus II."

He reached into his robes and retracted a small black square object, then without even glancing downwards, thrust the data-disk into a small slit on the side of the holo-projector. A reverberating beep signalled a 3-D image to appear, rotating above the projector's hub. The image displayed a tall, broad shouldered man with a hooked nose and slick black hair, he was wearing a dark grey trench coat, the outline of flak armour could be seen underneath.

"They were being led by this man," he continued, "judging by his uniform, he appears to be Ex-Guard."

Vauss suddenly jumped back as if he had just realised the image was there. He studied the image for a moment before opening his mouth in disbelief. Procuro merely raised his eyebrows at him.

"I think I know that man," Vauss said, screwing his face up in concentration. "Yes, that's General Tyranus of the Planet's Interior Guard."

Procuro sighed, "that's what I was afraid of."

"I saw him when I collected tithes from the planet last time," Vauss said, his bitterness evaporating instantly, "he was always following Governor Sevrax around, I heard he takes care of all the Governor's dirty work."

There was only two possibilities for this: either Tyranus had rebelled against the Governor or he was acting on the Governor's orders. Procuro greatly suspected the latter.

"What do you think of this?" Vauss asked.

"I think that we're going to have a bit of trouble with this Governor Sevrax," Procuro said as he retrieved the data-disk from the slot. "You are to contact the Adeptus Terra and request Imperial Guard support, Captain. If it is as I suspected, then the Interior Guard will be most uncooperative."

"Imperial Guard? You're not expecting a rebellion are you?" Vauss enquired, his aged face contorting in worry.

"I'm not sure what to expect, Captain, but I am taking the necessary precautions."

"Very well. What are you going to do about this, Inquisitor?"

"My retinue and I are going to travel down to the capitol city, Syran, and investigate further. I will keep you updated, otherwise you will stay here under the guise of collecting tithes. Understood?"

"Yes, Inquisitor," Vauss replied, the bitterness returning.

"Good. That is all," Procuro dismissed him.

Vauss shot him a dirty look before turning on his heel and walking through the large sliding doors. As the doors closed with a familiar hum, Procuro turned to his retinue, who were still seated around the holo-projector looking pensive.

"Get some rest, we're leaving at 1900 hours tomorrow," Procuro said.

"Equipment, sir?" Yevin asked.

"Side arms and close combat weapons only. I don't want to draw much attention, which means your launcher can stay behind."

"Yes, sir," they chorused before exiting to their quarters.