Long ago and far away
He stepped onto the platform, granite hard rock chiselled to a rough square two metres on a side. All was grey. The rock, the sea, the sky. Distinguished only by shade. Two grey lengths of chain, links the size of a man's hand, were bolted to opposite sides of the square. He took one in each hand, feeling the aged and corroded metal against his palms. He pulled the chains tight and spread his legs, feet naturally slipping into the shallow depressions left by the feet of generations before him. It was strange to be out of armour, but this was the ritual for every marine upon their return. The wind and light rain of his homeworld soft against his face and he shut his eyes and enjoyed a moment of tranquillity. The first touch of spray against his feet broke that timeless moment and he looked into the gathering storm. Lightning flashed far out at sea and black clouds scudded over a white capped ocean. He spared a glance to his left and right. Other platforms, were strung along the shore, many occupied by those he had returned with. But each would face their struggle alone and almost all stared fixedly ahead. Had he looked behind he knew he would have seen similar platforms higher up, sometimes even protected in small natural or artificial harbours. Still a test, but one that a novitiate yet to be implanted or young brother waiting to develop his full strength might survive.
Now he focussed as the first wave of the incoming tide broke fully across his platform, the sting of the cold water still pleasant in the humid afternoon. He checked his grip, shifting a link and pulled, the tension in the chains acting to force his feet hard onto the platform. Over the centuries many brothers had taken the ritual too lightly and paid the ultimate price. Their names stricken from the Chapter's records over what may have been a second of inattention. The tide rose, now knee high. The breaking of each wave hit with the force of a blow, but that was easy to brace for. It was the insidious backwash as the wave rushed out that had taken the feet out from under countless recruits. A few held on to their chains and were able, if the tide was low enough, to scramble back into position. Others held on but without the security of a foothold were thrown mercilessly against the rocks by the waves and even their superhuman bodies would then require weeks of healing. He settled into a rhythm, bracing for the impact, then the undertow, then a moment before the cycle repeated. At high tide the water would average metre and a half above his head, but such was the violence of the tides, even then the troughs of the waves would be low enough to give him a moment to snatch a breath. If he was quick. If he was careful. If he remained focused.
Salt spray that would have stung normal eyes barely registered and the first wave that took him totally underwater brought a rare smile to his stern features. Sound became dull as the water muffled everything and a million cares sloughed away leaving only the contest between him and the ocean. The chain on his right shifted slightly and he tightened his grip. Glancing down he saw with concern that the great bolt, thicker than a normal man's leg that held the chain in place was working loose. As the next wave hit he tried to anchor himself with just the left hand but this too caused a shift as that bolt too began to slide.
Menalis's eyes snapped open. The dream as vivid as the ship's interior that now surrounded him refusing to fade. On the other side of the meditation chamber cold blue eyes gave a look that might have been sympathy. Xistos sharpening a knife blunted from making fresh inscriptions in the ceramite of his armour. Through the wall came a repetitive thudding as Gottries took out his frustrations on practice pads. Each blow hard enough to pulverise bone or dent steel plate.
"Bad dreams?"
"No. Good. For a time I was home."
The thudding increased in tempo, the sounds of individual blows merging together. Until a loud crack heralded the destruction of another pad. There was the dragging sound of a replacement being put in position before the cycle began again, as it had every few minutes for the duration of the voyage.
"The same as last time?"
"It always is."
"You know what Syrano would say."
"I do not need the obvious explained to me. The chains never broke."
The sympathetic look faded replaced with something much darker and more introspective.
"Oh I think they did brother. For all of us."
Arbites Shuttle Bay
The hanger was usually a hive of activity but at this time there was only one ship being prepped for launch. A heavily armed atmospheric shuttle was in the last stages of refuelling with an enginseer aided by a pair of servitors making final external checks. In turn they were being watched by the inquisitor's party. Kryn walked over, chafing at the summons that had arrived squawking over her vox demanding immediate obedience.
As she approached the small shuttle Kryn was a little taken back to see two of the Stormtroopers in full dress uniform. Unlike the camouflage fatigues and black body armour she was expecting they were wearing white trousers and shirt with a set of medals and tags across the chest, almost hidden by what appeared to be fully functional flack armour under the gilt and decorative Aquila's. Their boots were polished to a high shine that matched polished leather gloves. They still carried hellguns but these were black polished to a mirror sheen, where they were not chased with gold and while again they looked functional they were a world apart from the more utilitarian models the others carried where non-reflective paint and the natural patina of scratches that befell any heavily used weapon gave a more deadly air. Between them was a hooded figure she took to be Ulrich, Face hidden in the depths of the black hood, robe reaching to the floor. The only indication it was him was the staff he had carried at their first meeting back in his hands, though without the witch-fire that it had displayed on that occasion.
Tarik walked over accompanied by two of the more normally attired Stormtroopers.
"Your men died on an inquisitorial mission." He began without greeting or preamble. "I understand there will be a memorial service in a couple of hours. If you feel it appropriate we would like to send an Inquisitorial presence as a sign of respect."
"That would be…" Kryn bit back on an initial surge of anger, as if a bit of ceremony could make up for her men dying through lack of information. Then, as she had been trained, thought about what would benefit morale. "… would be helpful to remind the men to look at the wider battlefield." She turned and bowed, just low enough for propriety then turned to leave.
Tarik cleared his throat and waited until she turned around.
"We are taking Totiem, I have already voxed him the orders."
"Do you think I don't know what you are doing in my own precinct?" She snarled. "You could at least have pretended to keep me in the loop."
"Marshal, I know you feel a little sidelined. It is not a sign we find you incapable or untrustworthy, quite the opposite." Tarik handed over a plain brown envelope. "If you get word we have been attacked, or we fail to report back on an hourly basis open this and arrest the person detailed."
She took the envelope and slipped it into a pouch at her belt some of the anger dissipating slightly.
"You expect to be attacked."
"Almost certainly. We have asked for a squad from the PDF base and have made no secret about the target of our investigation. This is the best opportunity the network behind the smuggling will get to wipe us out."
"And they won't think you're playing them?"
Tarik shrugged and then grinned. "Well at least if we get back safely we know whoever is doing this is smarter than I am which should reduce the number of suspects dramatically." The grin faded. "Marshal – when we are attacked go after your target with maximum prejudice. If you can bring them in alive fine, but I would recommend executioner rounds and if you can get some heavy las-weaponry…" He let the suggestion trail off. Then offered his hand. After a moment's hesitation she shook it.
"Good hunting."
"You too Marshal."
As she left trailed by the overdressed Stormtroopers and their charge she saw the Mortiurge heading the other way camo-cloak ready with sniper rifle over one shoulder and an ornate pistol at his waist. She gave him a dirty look that he pretended not to notice and stalked away to prepare for the service.
Totiem twisted his lips into the closest approximation he could make of a smile then marched towards the small flyer. He snapped to perfect attention and threw a parade ground salute as he stepped onto the boarding ramp.
"Alright knock that off." Tarik sighed. "It'll be half an hour to the base and then around 10 hours flight to our target. Enough time for you to get reacquainted." He nodded towards a long narrow case stowed carefully at the back of the shuttle. Totiem put his finger on the gene-lock and the box snapped open. Inside was a sniper rifle as long as he was tall. Though the scar twisted it into something terrible his smile, this time, was completely genuine. He swung the rifle he was carrying off his shoulder, unloaded it and stowed it quickly in the shuttle's arms locker then, reverently picked up the Exitus Sniper rifle. Though it seemed too long and unwieldy to be of use to anyone when Totiem held it the weapon seemed to become almost an extension of his body. He stroked the metal, rubbing his fingers to judge how recently the stock had been oiled.
"It's been in a stasis chamber. It should be just as you left it. Tools and cleaning equipment in the other locker, you may want these." Tarik handed over an ammo box one handed. Totiem carefully laid the rifle back in its case before taking the box with both hands and wincing at the weight.
"You're learning."
"You still have no sense of humour." The words without malice as Totiem opened the ammo box and gazed at the variety of specialised rounds. "Recommendations?"
"Still no confirmation of targets. Probably go for armour piercing maybe high explosive… incendiary is unlikely to be of much help. Unless I'm wrong about what is out there."
Totiem began sorting out different ammo types, attaching it to his belt and webbing, then standing eyes closed reaching for various clips and adjusting their positions when his hand did not land cleanly on them at first attempt. Behind him Ulrich stepped out of the shadows the tread of his power armour made the whole shuttle rock slightly on its landing legs.
"Does she suspect Tarik?"
"Maybe. She keeps her cards close to her chest." Tarik looked up at the tall figure. "I approve."
Ten minutes later the shuttle was on its way. In contrast to the 6 hour travel time to Zander Plain via rhino the flight took barely half an hour. Before they were half way a pair of Valkyrie gunships took station either side and escorted them to a landing field at the PDF base.
As the five occupants of the shuttle disembarked they were greeted by the sights and sounds of a huge PDF base. A vast plane of rockcrete, scored by a million take-offs and pitted by the occasional crash landing stretched for kilometres in every direction, broken up only by blast walls and reinforced fuel bunkers. From the edge of the landing field itself prefab structures stretched out to the horizon and thousands of personnel were engaging in drills, manoeuvres and the daily tasks that kept a base this size operational. One of the Valkyries was hovering above providing air cover while its twin smoothly landed amidst a dozen similar craft. A handful of Lightning fighters were undergoing maintenance in a hanger while large numbers of what appeared to be a locally made atmospheric fighter were lined up on the taxiway, ready to launch at a moment's notice. Heavy bombers were parked in formation on another side of the vast runway. In all there was sufficient military airpower to prosecute a small war and more than sufficient manpower to end it.
Ulrich forced his eyes away from the display and walked down the ramp. Tarik and Totiem were already scanning for threats. The two storm troopers they had with them similarly kept their weapons ready but given the sheer numbers and amount of firepower on display there would have been little they could do if a fire fight broke out. The Valkyrie alone could have reduced the shuttle and its occupants to atoms within seconds.
Immediately in front of the party was an Aquila class shuttle and a pair of Arvus lighters, both outfitted for carrying troops. A detachment of 20 troops were waiting at attention and in front of them was the base commander flanked by a small squad of bodyguards. The commander was in a dress uniform, that appeared to have been last worn when he was slimmer and in much better shape. It struggled to contain his bulk and appeared threadbare in places. Blood flecks on the collar suggested a recent and not overly successful shave and the overall impression was one of hastily covered slovenliness. He threw a salute, then thrust his hands by his sides, trying unsuccessfully to hide the fact they were shaking.
"Commander….?"
"Prescot, Sir."
"Prescot. Hmmm." Ulrich studied the man, seeing the sweat stains under his arms despite the relative cool of false-night. The reputation of the Inquisition was designed to instil fear into those they came into contact with, but a senior commander of a large base, even if it was PDF rather than Imperial Guard should have been better at hiding that fear. He waited and let Prescot break the silence. Nervous men often blurted out more than they intended to reveal.
"Your troops sir! As requested. 2 heavy weapon teams as requested and transport. "
Ulrich looked at the troops, they seemed young in the main, most not appearing to be out of their teens. The heavy weapons teams looked a little older, but only by a couple of years. The officer was a lieutenant who's stripes had a shine to them that suggested they had only recently been awarded. He looked past the troops to the transport. The Aquila shuttle had a single heavy bolter at the front, the two Arvus lighters were completely unarmed.
"And an escort?" He asked.
"You never… I mean… if you…"
Ulrich sighed, and stepped forward, the commander seemed about to take a step back before realising how it would look. Ulrich slowly closed the distance letting the commander appreciate the bulk and height advantage power armour gave the wearer. He bent over bringing himself down to eye level.
"I expected competence. I hoped for a certain level of initiative. You have disappointed me. We are leaving now. I will return. We will… discuss this further."
Prescot nodded frantically and threw a hasty salute.
"Lieutenant with me. Totiem take one squad and one heavy weapons team in the first lighter. Tarik take the rest in the other. Let's not have one lucky shot ending this entire mission before it begins." Ulrich stalked towards the Aquila shuttle the lieutenant and the pair of Stormtroopers jogging to keep up. The PDF troopers looked bewildered until Tarik made a chopping gesture pointing half of them towards an Arvus and Totiem shepherded the rest towards the other. Tarik whispered into his comm-bead.
"Do we have top cover?"
"The Legacy is in position, I don't think they would try anything with you on base, or this close by. Several fighters in the air, but they are following the same standard patrol patterns that they have since we arrived in system. Nothing out of the ordinary."
With one last regretful look at the better armed Arbites shuttle they were leaving behind Tarik followed the PDF to the Arvus. Travelling to Tetran III would require leaving the atmosphere. Sadly not a feat the Arbites vehicle was capable of. The ramp of the Arvus closed behind him. 10 nervous faces peered at him from the newly darkened interior. Keeping his feelings to himself Tarik gave a crooked grin as the rumble of the engines started the whole ship shaking.
"Its 10 hours till touchdown. Please tell me at least one of you gretches brought a deck of cards."