It wasn't hard for Dellenger to loop around the medicae centre and back toward the patient rooms, but he made sure to avoid any of the militia he could along the way, which slowed him down quite a lot.
He thanked his luck for the backwards capacity of Ecclesiarchy worlds, so this medicae centre didn't have cameras. Dellenger also wanted to see if those horrid pipes snaked their way through most of the facility, and they seemed to, by the looks of things. Dellenger tried to block out that horrible slugging sound as he walked beneath them. The presence of these strange pipes alone was worth reporting to the Interrogator.
The Interrogator, Arlathan Karkin, was an interesting man. Dellenger wasn't sure why, but Karkin seemed to hold some hostility to Tathe.
Before Dellenger could muse more on that subject, he turned a corner and stopped as he found door after door on each wall, each with a sign saying "Patient Room 1" and on and on. The pipes curled in and out of the rooms, and the corridor was empty.
It made Dellenger freeze. Fear clutched his heart with ice-cold tendrils. His intuition seemed to scream that whatever he did, he didn't want to go through any of those doors. But he had to, this was his assignment, and while he wasn't the most dutiful of soldiers, this Inquisitor Enandra seemed like a genuinely good person who deserved his duty and respect.
Or at least he hoped she did; Inquisitors were fickle things, indeed, but even still, Dellenger wanted to prove he was trustworthy and skilled enough to be in her employment.
Sighing, Dellenger shook himself back to reality and went straight for the nearest door. There was no window in it, so Dellenger raised his autogun and opened it slightly, peering into the gap.
It was almost pitch black inside, but his photo contacts soon revealed the surroundings in a hazy, green light. The first thing Dellenger noticed was that far too many beds were lodged side by side, making a gap in the middle leading from the doorway of only about a metre and a half. All of the beds were occupied.
Dellenger slipped inside, his autogun sweeping around the room, and the green light began to illuminate more and more detail. He could now make out the pipes that rose from the beds and ceiling. The familiar horrific gurgling from the pipes suddenly filled Dellenger's ears and almost made him vomit into his mask there and then. The photo-contacts kept revealing the room, and soon he wished it didn't. The pipes were stitched to the faces of the occupants of the beds, covering their noses and mouths. Some sat bolt upright, backs against the wall, some laid beneath the sheets, but all of them were strapped down. None of them acknowledged Dellenger's presence, their blank-white eyes staring out into space, but the terror and agony on their faces were unmistakable. Their skin was covered in green and grey pustules.
The pipes were made from semi-transparent plasteek, allowing Dellenger to glimpse the thick bile which flowed towards the ceiling to defy gravity seemingly.
Dellenger had seen many horrific things in his long lifetime, but this took the frigging bait. All of this was bad enough, but he knew something was above him, something hanging from the ceiling, something that these horrific pipes ran from.
Finally, Dellenger managed to gain the courage to look up and what he saw made him reel. Attached to the ceiling was a large glass sphere full of that disgusting green bile, which swirled inside; light emerged from it, but it didn't illuminate the room like a miniature sun. More pipes grew from it, snaking into the ceiling and walls.
The bile in the sphere seemed to have a life of its own as it swirled and smashed against the thick glass-like waves crashing on the shore. More than anything in this galaxy, Dellenger wanted to get out his krak grenades and destroy this place. To open fire with his autogun and slaughter everything in the room. Spare these poor people this horrible suffering, but he knew he couldn't.
Not just because he'd give himself away, he would never want that bile shit even to touch him.
Despite himself, Dellenger began to back for the door as he started to dry heave, but he froze as something inside the sphere saw him.
The bile began to swirl even more as something materialised in the goo. That something became a pair of disembodied circular, lidless black eyes above a too-wide grin of rotting teeth.
A pair of eyes with grey-green pupils were staring directly down at Dellenger.
'Intruder,' the mouth slurred so resonantly, so deeply, it shook Dellenger to his every pore and made him fall to his knees as complete agony overtook him.
Then the alarm klaxons began to shrill throughout the facility.
They met back at the hideout when Arlathan arrived with Vex and Karmen. Vex was back on his cogitator so fast that he seemed to teleport across the room. His fingers flew over the keys as he slipped his headphones over his head. Arlathan watched with bated breath as Vex turned to and from his Vox Caster, adjusted a few knobs, and then returned to his cogitator.
Arlathan waited, and after a good while, he exchanged a glance with Karmen, who looked as nervous as him.
'Vex, did it work?'
Vex held up a finger and, to Arlathan's choler, shushed him. 'Be quiet. The master is at work.'
Arlathan managed to fight down his anger; it was more critical Vex complete his work rather than Arlathan sate his ego, but by the Emperor, he'd chew out the boy afterwards.
The Stormtrooper guarding the room raised his hand to his micro-bead and looked at Arlathan and Karmen.
'Interrogator Marcel Torris and Delan Tathe have just arrived. Send them up?'
'Yes, go ahead,' said Arlathan, trying not to sound too annoyed. Did he have to micro-manage every frigging thing around here? Typical damned Inquisitorial Stormtroopers.
'Yes, sir!' said the Stormtrooper, relaying Arlathan's order.
Karmen swept past Arlathan and turned to him. 'I'm going to have a shower. I don't think I've been this stinky and disgusting since I was locked up in Taryst's personal jail back on Omnartus.'
Arlathan frowned, not sure what to make of her light tone. 'Yeah, go ahead, just don't be too long. We have to be careful how much power we use on the grid, remember?'
Karmen laughed. 'Yes, dad.'
Arlathan could tell she was flirting with him, despite long ago agreeing they wouldn't be anything but friends. Arlathan ignored her; he couldn't help feeling if they restarted their physical relationship, she'd likely try to use it to make Attelus jealous.
She pouted, shrugged, then moved on and said to Vex as she passed him, 'Good work, Vex.'
'Yeah, yeah,' said Vex as he flicked out his hand dismissively. 'I know, I know.'
Karmen smiled and left as Arlathan continued to watch Vex work, he didn't have to wait long before Torris and Tathe entered, and Arlathan had to stop smiling at Tathe's swollen, purple face.
'Nice work on the distraction, you two,' said Arlathan. 'You two have much trouble getting away?'
'Nah,' said Torris. 'They just sat me down and made me confess, for a good while in one of their backrooms, told me the importance of such miracles and all sorts of crap, you know how it goes. The good Commissar here was treated and looked over by their medical, and we were let go not too long after the rest of you finished the tour and the sing-song stuff.'
Tathe nodded as he placed an ice pack on his face. 'Torris, for someone who doesn't specialise in close combat, you've got one hell of a right hook.'
Torris shrugged, about to answer, when Vex shrilled out. 'Be quiet. I'm in!'
Tathe turned to Vex, and they approached him.
Vex, ignoring them, kept tuning his Vox Unit as he listened intensely to his headset. He did this for a few seconds before his face paled, and he turned to Arlathan, his eyes wide behind his specialist glasses.
'What's wrong, Vex?' said Torris.
'There's reports of an intruder in Medicae Facility A,' said Vex.
'Shit,' snarled Tathe as he pushed past Arlathan and snatched up the vox horn. 'Get me Dellenger's vox unit, now!'
Despite the agony that seemed to course through his very DNA, Dellenger managed to gain a semblance of control of his limbs, and he turned and crashed through the doors back into the corridor.
Almost instantly, the pain began to ebb away, which allowed Dellenger to tear off his mask; he then wretched and writhed, then vomited his guts on the floor.
His legs wobbled and then gave way, forcing him to drop onto his arse.
But it'd saved his life as autogun fire flew over his head a millisecond later.
Combat instinct honed to razor-sharp over a long, long time overrode his pain and nausea. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, crouching and firing on full auto.
The gas-masked enemy twenty metres down the corridor pulled himself back into cover before Dellenger could draw a bead.
Now with his senses sliding back, Dellenger could hear the dozen or so heavy running footfalls coming from his right toward his back. So he tossed a frag grenade over his shoulder at the corner while letting off another brief burst to pin the cultist.
The explosion came a second afterwards, and the cry of the enemies caught in the blast was quite satisfying. Dellenger spun, firing from the hip and cutting down two enemies stunned by the explosion and left out in the open. Dellenger took out a photon-flash grenade and tossed it. It exploded into life in the middle of the T-junction, followed by cries. Dellenger burst forwards, autogun barking as he blasted into the six remaining enemies. Dellenger slipped into cover as the first enemy down the corridor opened fire.
Before the corpses had even fully collapsed, Dellenger had reloaded his autogun and was moving.
Another turn in the corridor was coming up, and Dellenger could hear more pairs of feet, six or seven, bashing towards the corner, even above the klaxons. After doing some rapid maths, Dellenger calculated they would be emerging into view in about three seconds. Dellenger, in the last millisecond, dropped to his knees and slid out.
The enemy had no time even to think before Dellenger was firing. He cut down five of the seven before the rest managed to stop and return fire, but by then, Dellenger was already behind cover. It was then that the cultist following his wake was stepping out from last the corner, but the range was good, and Dellenger shot him through the mask as he was raising his rifle.
Dellenger spun again, just in time to smash aside the cultist's aiming autogun with the butt of his own. Then Dellenger sent a sidekick crashing against the cultist's guts, throwing him off his feet and flailing to the floor. Dellenger dropped onto his back as the second cultist began to shoot. Dellenger then drew his laspistol and evaporated out the top of his skull. Then he lunged to his feet and hit the last one through the chest as he was beginning to stand up.
Then Dellenger's micro-bead shrilled, and he instantly answered it without bothering to check the channel.
'Yes?'
'Dellenger?' came Tathe's voice. 'Frig! You're okay; there's reports over the private vox network that-'
Dellenger barely managed to make it around the corner before the group of cultists fanned out and opened fire.
'Yes, it's me they've caught out,' said Dellenger as he glanced around and tossed another frag grenade which went off at the feet of the cultists. 'I've found some horrible shit, Delan, frigging horrible.'
More emerged further down Dellenger's corridor; they seemed to pour into sight like a flash flood. Dellenger reloaded his autogun again and cut down four, making the others dive for cover, which allowed Dellenger to do the same.
'Seems you're in one hell of a firefight, old friend,' said Tathe. 'What did you find?'
Dellenger flinched as the numerous cultists returned fire. The combined cacophony hurt the frig out of his ears. He also knew more were coming from the other corridor; soon, he'll be flanked and slaughtered. Where the hell was Kalakor?
'They're using this plague to summon a daemon of the god of disease,' Dellenger cried. 'And if my intrusion was reported over the official network, it means the local government and Ecclesiarchy are involved too! Shit, I'm pinned. They're almost on me and-'
Then came the familiar bark of a boltgun around the corner, followed by wild, desperate autogun shots and the shrieking of slaughtered men. Which made Dellenger sigh out so hard it hurt his chest.
'I have arrived,' said Kalakor over the vox-link. 'You have lost your bet, Dellenger; now prepare to be forever be bragged at.'
Dellenger couldn't reply, but then he managed to hear over the chaos and klaxons, cumbersome boots echoing from the corridor with the patient rooms.
He furrowed his brow and looked that way. Did Kalakor bring a friend or...'
Dellenger's train of thought died, and his heart fell to his toes as the monster emerged into view. A three-metre tall monster in green power armour covered in pustules and dirty bronze trim. A monster that carried a giant, mutated heavy bolter in its paws.
The Chaos Marine of The Plague God raised its heavy bolter and opened fire.
Attelus knelt in a cell; the bars were made of what seemed to be iron, his hands in binders and chained to the wall above his head. They'd descended the levels, and Attelus found all of them took up the length and width of the building, and all of them were full of sick, coughing people as dozens of medicae staff in masks and protective frocks moved among them. Although, Attelus never got a glimpse of the main ground floor as he was taken down into a back room and down another flight of stairs that descended a good ten metres below the plateau.
One of the Sisters glared down at Attelus; she wasn't Satiristine; she seemed in her mid-thirties, her tanned skin scarred, her left eye milky white, and her severe bob-cut was silver. She seemed like the archetypical Sister of Battle.
Meanwhile, behind her, Satiristine and the Catachan were searching through Attelus' backpack on a battered wooden table. They'd taken Attelus' power sword, auto pistol, wrist-mounted throwing knife containers, backup knife and all of his ammo.
When the Catachan found all of this, he'd laughed and said, "damn, kid. You have more knives than a fraking regiment Brontian Longknives!' The Brontian Longknives were a famous regiment from the hive world of Bront, and they frigging loved their knives and collected them like insane hoarders, so Attelus thought he was exaggerating a little bit. They didn't take his boot knife, though, but it would be useless against the Sister's power armour unless he managed to kick them in their helmetless faces, which wouldn't be too hard. Attelus had learned the importance of a helmet in his duel against Erdaku; he still didn't wear one himself, though, making him quite the hypocrite, but oh well. They'd also relieved him of his re-breather and wrist auspex, the latter he was surprised to find he quite missed. When his re-breather was removed, he searched Satiristine's face for a sign, any sign of recognition or anything else. He was hoping for attraction, in all honesty. But he got nothing, much to a mix of emotions Attelus couldn't quite describe.
He'd been meaning to replace the blade with a monomolecular one but kept forgetting, but even then, it wouldn't do much against power armour.
The Catachan, who now looked far older than he initially seemed, slipped one of Attelus' climbing gauntlets out of the bag. 'What's this?' he said, then made the mono blades slide out of the top of it. Then the edges from the palms and comprehension seemed to cross the Catachan's face; then he looked at Attelus. 'You use these to climb up to the plateau?'
Attelus nodded.
'By the Emperor, you're frigging insane, kid,' said the Catachan. 'You even human?'
Attelus didn't reply; he would've shrugged if he could've. He wanted to respond with yes, but technically no. But thought better of it.
'Answer him, swine,' said the grey-haired Sister.
Attelus glared at her. 'That isn't how you should address a Throne Agent of the Ordo Hereticus.'
'When you trespass upon Holy ground, I could not care less if you were a High Lord of Terra. Now, answer his question, swine! Or I will make you answer it!'
'Nah, Nah, don't worry, Roliriss, it was a rhetorical question, anyway,' said the Catachan as he studied one of Attelus' climbing boots. 'But you better answer my next question, or else, I'll let her have her way with you, but not in the "fun" sense.'
Attelus rolled his eyes; the Catachan didn't need to elaborate on that implication. Then he couldn't help but steal a glance at Satiristine, who instantly met his gaze. They held it for a few seconds, and Attelus looked away.
'Why do you keep looking at me?' said Satiristine, her face red. 'It's creepy.'
'S-sorry,' said Attelus; the statement hurt him more than it should've been the last thing in the galaxy. He wanted her to think of him as "creepy", so he told her the truth. 'Y-you just look like someone I was close to years ago. I'm sorry.'
'Well, I do not care, just stop it,' she snapped, her pretty face pouting in what she might've thought as "intimidating", but to Attelus, it just seemed cute.
'Yes, o-of course,' said Attelus. 'I'm sorry.'
Satiristine then suddenly slammed her palm on the table, which made Attelus flinch. 'And stop apologising. It's stupid,' she said.
Attelus wanted to apologise again but stopped himself.
The Catachan laughed. 'You managed to climb that damned incline, but you are sweatin' around Satiristine, the smallest, nicest Sister here. But you show no fear with Roliriss, who's gotta bolter almost at ya. You're a real strange one, ain't ya? What's ya name?'
'Remember to say the truth, swine!' snapped the grey-haired Sister.
Attelus glanced at her before looking at the Catachan, fighting from letting his gaze stop on Satiristine on the way.
'My name is Attelus Kaltos.'
Much to Attelus' satisfaction, the Catachan's attention snapped to him. 'Kaltos?'
Satiristine raised a sculpted eyebrow. 'What's wrong, sir? That's just a name, is it not?'
'No, young lady, that isn't "just a name" that name ", Kaltos" belongs to the most dangerous assassin in the Calixis Sector. No wonder this Inquisitor Enandra sent you to infiltrate this place. Too bad you got caught.'
Attelus grimaced, and his gaze fell to the floor.
The Catachan pushed himself from the table and approached the bars, smiling. 'Aww, did it hurt your pride? Don't let it. It's never a bad thing when you are outdone by the best.'
Attelus glared up at him; he wanted to tell the Catachan that he wasn't "the best," If Dellenger had infiltrated the convent instead, there would've been no way in hell the Catachan could've found him out.
The Catachan knelt, so they were eye-to-eye, and even then, he towered over Attelus. 'What are you to the infamous Serghar Kaltos?'
'I'm his son,' said Attelus; he wanted to spit the words and curses, but he didn't want to give away how he felt about his psychopathic arsehole of a father.
The Catachan grinned and nodded. 'I see, taking up the family business, huh? He must be proud.'
Attelus couldn't help but grimace and turn away.
'Ah, I see,' said the Catachan, and he stood and started toward the table; there, he picked up Attelus' sheathed sword and drew it.
'I ain't a swordsman or anything, but I know a good blade when I see it, and this one is damn nice, damn nice.'
The Catachan slashed the air a couple of times; he wasn't much of a swordsman, the edge off-place subtly, the slashes over-extended, like the Catachan was used to the shorter blade and was over-compensating.
'Beautiful,' said the Catachan as he dropped the sword back on the table. 'A blade only worthy of a great sword master.'
The Catachan looked at Attelus and grinned again. 'You know what? You could have killed me.'
Attelus couldn't help furrowing his brow.
'Yeah, when I had my gun on your head, you could've spun and cut me before I could've even pulled the trigger, but ya didn't, interesting.'
Attelus' eyes widened; how the hell did the Catachan figure that out?
'You ain't human, not truly. That's why you were sent on this mission. That's how you managed to climb that cliff. Your mask looks like it's from the Officio Assassinorum, but you ain't one of them. But you are an assassin, this I know. Tell me, boy, what is the actual reason you're here? To assassinate my master?'
His heart fell into his guts Attelus shook his head. 'N-no, if I were here to kill him, I would've killed you before. You know this.'
The Catachan smirked. 'Yeah, yeah, I know. So, what do you want here?'
Attelus sighed and hung his head. 'I need to talk to your master. I need to talk to Inquisitor Soloston, please.'
The Catachan grinned. 'Well, young Attelus Kaltos, you'll be happy to know that you're speaking to him right now.'
