Hive Prime
The lowest level of hive prime was not the worst of areas, that title being contested by many of the outlying slums and lower levels of the second tier hives elsewhere on the planet. But it was grimy and a long way from sunlight. Homes and businesses wrapped themselves around power conduits, sewer outlets and the million unidentifiable but vital pieces of machinery that kept the rest of the hive and its millions of inhabitants functional. Those who ended here were mostly poor, desperate or seeking a low profile. And while there were gangs who preyed on the locals they lacked ambition for much beyond the occasional bit of drug running or half hearted protection rackets. Proctors were rare. Actual Arbites were seen as more of a story to scare children with than actual law enforcement so the full squad charging down the central access was something of a surprise to those residents who were about that early in the morning.
Alpay was a mostly law abiding business man. Even the poor and desperate needed to eat. While his tax returns may not have stood up to heavy scrutiny he paid most of his dues, cut very few corners when it came to food safety and so did not deserve to have the front door of his shop smashed down. He stumbled out of the back office that doubled as his living quarters, any protest dying instantly on his lips as Totiem swung a heavy pistol at his head.
"Basement. Now."
With a whimper Alpay led them to a large reinforced set of double doors and keyed the lock. He was thrown to one side almost before the doors had opened and Totiem was striding past. Beyond the doors the actual bedrock of the planet was visible the shop having been built in front and on top of a natural cave. Currently it was filled with stored goods the natural cold acting as a preservative before they were needed to restock the store above. At the back was a badly made brick wall that survived barely a minute of violence from the enforcers before falling into a shattered heap on the floor. The cave stretched into the darkness.
"Luminators, low light setting." Totiem strode ahead, the uneven pile of bricks not slowing him any more than the rough stone beyond it. He led the way through a maze of tunnels all apparently natural, yet suspiciously uniform in height and width. Wide enough for 4 men to walk abreast, and roughly square in cross-section. The luminators gave weak light and Totiem moved beyond it, his optical implant working across a range of frequencies that made the cave as bright as day. He took a seemingly random set of turns, the squad behind all but running to keep up. All of them had seen the message with the 3d map of the cave system, but Totiem had barely glanced at it before grabbing his gear and heading out. Despite this he continued confidently until reaching an unremarkable dead end. He waited until the rest of the squad had caught up then gestured for them to take defensive positions. Moments after they had done so the plain rock face shimmered and vanished. All were hit with a palpable wave of unease.
Beyond was a green-lit corridor, necron sigils crawling over otherwise mirror smooth walls. Standing in the centre was a large space marine his bolter levelled directly at Totiem's face. After a moment the marine gave a brief nod of acknowledgement before striding past the startled arbites. Other figures were revealed behind the towering marine. A battered stormtrooper was supporting a pale limping fellow soldier. Cormack and Tarik were being followed by a floating box carrying a stretcher holding a third while a second space marine was bringing up the rear. One arm making an impromptu seat for Marshal Sodor who was being carried like a small child. The burden was not stopping the marine checking the rear for signs of pursuit.
"The marshal needs medical assistance along with two troopers." Tarik barked. Two of the arbites ran forward, Totiem having grabbed an extra squad medic for his team.
"Inquisitor, do we require reinforcements?" Totiem asked, anxiously scanning the necron corridor for signs of alien life.
"Negative. Under control. We just need rapid medivac and Cormack and I need time in a workshop." Tarik flexed his damaged arm. Had it been biological the hole through the shoulder would have been incapacitating, maybe fatal. As it was he seemed more amused than anything else.
"Of course." Totiem turned and trotted after the rapidly disappearing marine. This far under the city comms were sporadic, but by the time they emerged rhino transports would be waiting and all that would be left to do would be the tidying up.
48 hours later
Kryn looked in the mirror. Her ribs, where not obscured by the tight splinting, were turning an interesting range of purples and reds. Her left arm should have been in a sling, but a short argument with the duty medic had left her with a flexible brace and a half-hearted warning not to overdo things until it had had chance to heal. Her lung had been salvageable and she had politely turned down Cormack's offer of a "more efficient mechanical upgrade". At some point, given her rather unhealthy profession she was likely to need some replacement parts, but she saw no reason to hasten the process.
Her armour was taking rather longer to repair and the expert opinion of the arbites smiths had been that making a new one would have been much easier. Menalis and Cormack made an unlikely alliance against that idea. Space Marines venerated their armour and many suits were millennia old. Menalis argued that the honour it had done surviving the blows of a necron lord should not be treated lightly. Cormack seemed to enjoy the challenge of rejoining the shattered fragments. Still even if it was ready it would not have fitted over the braces and splints. Some loose training kit was about all she could manage. At least once she had strapped on a belt with her bolt pistol and shock maul. After all there was a difference between unarmoured and undressed.
She headed to the chapel. Some instinct she did not examine too closely. Whether it was some subconscious thing or the Emperor guiding her thoughts she was never sure, but she usually seemed to end up where she should have been. Outside the chapel the Chaplain waited. Twisted limbs supported by a wooden stool, nearly as battered and worn as its occupier. He nodded a greeting knowing any attempt to stand would be waved off by the Marshal.
"Simeone. It's unusual to see you out of your natural habitat."
"Ah. I see." The Chaplain put on an almost theatrically woebegone look. "My dereliction of my pastoral duties has come to your attention. You may have my resignation at your earliest convenience."
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Kryn grinned and tried not to laugh. Her ribs really were not up to that.
"I thought you would like to know that Ward is out of the medical ward, so to speak. She's not going to be back on the streets for a while, but she's back on her feet."
Kryn nodded, she had all but forgotten the young enforcer's fate after the past few days. Her good intentions of visiting one more casualty of the necron threat.
"And you waited out here to tell me that."
"No. The chapel is in use and while I was assured my presence was welcomed, I felt otherwise."
Kryn looked down at the weapons in her belt, smiled grimly and entered the chapel.
Most of the luminators were out and very little light penetrated through the dusty stained glass windows. The main source of illumination was a bright spotlight that focused on a statue of the Emperor on the Throne. The expression calm as the blank stone eyes gazed across the empty pews. A single figure was in the chapel, prostrate in the main isle. At the sound of Kryn's footprints it raised its head from the flagstones, but remained kneeling.
"Marshal. I'm glad you are recovered." Tarik did not turn. Yet Kryn was not entirely surprised he seemed to know it was her. She walked to a bench just behind him. The collar was back around his neck, hasty patches visible where mismatched metal and unshielded wires reconnected the shattered halves. He carried on. "When I started my training one of the tutors used to ask the initiates how to keep a secret. Some would say 'bury it' but our enemies can walk through walls and no vault is truly secure. Some would say 'encrypt it' but there are machines the Mechanicus have from the dark ages of technology that can break any of our current codes, and we must assume our enemies have the same abilities. Others said 'tell no one' but our enemies can read the minds of men as easily as you would read a book. Except me. The tutor claimed the only place in the Imperium that a secret could be kept was inside the mind of an untouchable. Pyskers and daemons cannot reach in and steal. Even torture is rather ineffective against the fearless. Pain can be mastered, it is the fear of what might happen next or how long it will last that tends to break people. And the untouchable lacks that fear."
"Do you believe that?"
Tarik remained unmoving. He had not turned his fixed gaze away from the statue of the Emperor.
"No. The Emperor knows everything I think, everything I do. I will stand before him and be judged with my conscience clear." He paused then continued, his tone wistful. "The first place I ever remember feeling wanted was a small temple. The priest must have been psychically insensitive, or good at covering his natural reactions. He gave me a place to stay, told me the Emperor knew me and that he protects all of us. I left before a mob came to burn the temple down." He paused again seeming to snap back into the present. "You have a question I think?"
Kryn pulled the bolt pistol out of her belt and aimed it at the back of the Inquisitor's head. Given his acute senses and the way he had predicted her actions to date she assumed he knew she had it.
"When the xenos made its offer. If I hadn't intervened what would you have said?"
"A xenos promise that if I handed over 27 billion human lives and 4 of the Emperor's worlds they would provide us with anti-daemon weapons that would free a hundred others. In addition to a near unlimited army of psychically resistant troops that could help us retake entire sectors while the troops they gained in return would be ineffective against us and therefore used entirely against the Emperor's other enemies."
Kryn's finger tightened on the trigger, just a fraction below the pressure needed to fire.
"To a promise of such value there's only one answer I could have given isn't there?" Tarik finished.
Kryn thought for a moment before abruptly returning the gun to its holster.
"Goodbye Tarik. Dominous Salva tuum."
The Inquisitor returned his head to the flagstones.
High in the rafters Totiem cancelled his target lock and settled back. Waiting.
Arbites Shuttle Bay much later
While Cormack had already ensured all of their team's valuable equipment had been transported back to the Legacy of Vengeance Tarik did a last sweep to ensure that nothing remained of their presence. He trusted his team, but as Inquisitor he was responsible and had developed the habit of always being the last to leave a planet. The Bastion now was silent and empty, nothing but dust and memories. As it should be. Duty satisfied he took the lift up to the launch bay where his shuttle waited.
As he stepped out onto the bay there was a single figure waiting for him.
"Judge Anderson. I trust you have rounded up the rest of the Goblins by now."
"Pretty much. Though purging the PDF of corruption is proving more difficult. A lot of recruits passed though Zander Falls and identifying who was on the payroll is... challenging. Marshal Sodor sends her apologies she is leading a kill team after receiving a last minute lead. She wanted to say goodbye in person but..."
"Duty first." Tarik finished.
"Indeed. She asked me to give you this before you left and wish you a swift journey." The Judge held out a plain folder which had a small envelope attached to the front.
"Do pass on my complements. You have a fine commanding officer. One of the best I have worked with."
"I will see she knows." The Judge made the sign of the Aquila and backed away as quickly as decorum allowed.
"We done with this rock now?" A laconic voice came from the shuttle hatchway.
"Why? Bored playing policeman?" Tarik replied as he ascended the ramp.
"It had its moments." Totiem responded. He was still dressed in Arbites armour but his Exitus Pistol was at his waist and Exitus rifle was slung carefully over one shoulder. "But it is good to be on the move again."
"As you say." Tarik walked on board without looking back as the ramp closed behind him. He went to the rear cabin and Totiem took the hint.
"I'll be on the flight deck if you need me boss."
Tarik waved a vague acknowledgement and sat in the nearest seat, buckling the restraints as the shuttle shuddered in takeoff. He looked at the package he had been given and broke the wax seal on the envelope. Inside was a small single sheet of parchment, handwritten, the top corner bearing an official Arbites stamp.
Tarik,
In the attached folder you will find a copy of a set of Arbite's case notes. in brief: the local protectors were called to an incident. Locals in a habstack had marched on one of their neighbours and demanded they hand over their son who the rioters accused of being some form of witch. The father went out to argue with them and was killed in the confrontation. The mother barricaded the door. By the time the Protectors arrived the door to the flat had been forced and the apartment was on fire. The ring leaders were quickly rounded up. Several had not bothered to flee feeling they had done nothing wrong. The allegations of witchcraft made it an Arbites matter and a team was sent in.
The badly burned body of a woman was found in the flat. The only way in or out, bar the front door was an air vent in the back of the flat. The vent was too small for an adult to climb through, but the grating had been forced open. Wounds on the hands of the woman and traces of fused blood on both the vent and items in the room suggested she had removed the vent grating before dragging heavy furniture in front to hide it. This certainly cost her any chance of making her own escape. The grating in a neighbouring flat had rusted through and the flat itself had been abandoned by its owner due to the "evil child" next door. There was no sign of a child's body in either flat. The ringleaders were tried for murder and were executed. The child was logged as missing, presumed dead.
The child's name was Santego Uman. He was loved and his parents died trying to protect him.
Should you unexpectedly find yourself with a friend, I trust this information will be of use.
Marshall Sodor.
P.S. I checked the etymology of Tarik. According to you Inquisitor Balash claimed it meant Mourning Star. That was a mistranslation, it means Morning Star. The coming of new light.
Tarik sat for a moment having read the letter. He glanced in the folder, but felt no desire to go through the details. He trusted Kryn to be thorough. He placed the letter with the rest of the papers and was about to throw the envelope away but then looked at it more closely. He looked up ensuring no one was able to see his expression. Then he filed the envelope in the folder and prepared himself for his next assignment.