A Deal with a Devil
Two days passed like a decade. Roric woke up both mornings to Nakir's voice and went to bed both evenings the same way. The mornings were the worst.
"Let's talk," Nakir would say and Roric would try his best to shut him out. Despite his efforts however, Nakir would keep right on talking. It had startled him rather badly the first time. He had heard the voice inside his head and looked around his room to find the source. Nakir had explained that because of his earlier possession, they shared a telepathic link. After several hours he had gotten used to the constant stream of talk ringing about in his head, which frightened him even more than the fact that there was a voice in his head. Nakir had gotten tired of being ignored after the first day had passed.
"I understand that this must seem extremely odd, that you must be shocked into silence and all, but its been twenty four hours now and I would like to get down to business."
"No." Roric had said aloud.
"Come now, you are being extremely rude. You haven't even listened to what I have proposed and yet you adamantly reject it. Do you even understand what I'm offering?"
"I imagine it's along the lines of 'Sell me your soul for absolute power,' and despite your promises, I like my soul where it's at." Roric had spoken with a confidence he had not felt, but the daemon seemed to have bought it, or so he had thought. The damned voice had started chuckling and said an interesting thing.
"Who says it's your soul I'm after? One soul doesn't do me a bit of good, and taking yours seriously compromises the quality of your body. I'm more interested in your uses than your soul. To be honest I'm not really interested in taking souls. I have other plans." Roric had remained silent the rest of the day after that. Nakir had pestered him all the next day and night with his endless prattle.
******
Roric woke from a troubled sleep looked at the clock set in the wall. Day three was just beginning, and right on schedule Nakir's voice invaded his consciousness.
"I really must protest about your behavior. I expected a bit of resistance in the first place, but now you're just being hard to get along with. If you do not start listening to reason, I will be forced to take harsher actions. Don't think that you have to be near the box for me to harm you." Nakir sounded very much like an annoyed tutor.
"Perhaps if you would grace me with some of the details of this little plan of yours' I would be further inclined to listen. So far you've been extremely vague. In fact, I don't think you've once mentioned about what I would get out of this, not that I'll accept your offer anyway." Roric said. Roric felt quite pleased with himself, when Nakir pulled the Emperor out of his sleeve.
"What do you get out of this? Why, freedom of course. That ship that's on it's way here? It is not bearing your commission as an Inquisitor. In fact, you were never even considered for the position," Roric broke out in a cold sweat at those words. "Surely you know that there are some more radical elements of the Inquisition who use Chaos to fight it. Daemon weapons, penitent psykers, daemonhosts; tools in an arsenal for their use. You were to be made a daemonhost for me. At least that was the original deal. They've reneged and I am none too pleased about it."
"Was Ursain part of this deal?" Roric's heart hammered inside his chest. The voice chuckled again.
"Let me show you." Nakir said, and Roric was certain he was suppressing a laugh. Images flashed by in his mind. He saw Ursain, but younger. He was standing in a courtyard reviewing a regiment of guardsmen. Liam and Montrose were also there. He called out a name, and a man stepped forward. The image of the courtyard changed. It resolved itself into a picture of the same man strapped to a table, his chest cavity ruptured.
"Another failure," a voice said. "Ursain, why do you keep bringing us failures? Nakir must have a proper body if he is to help us." The image changed again. A scene similar to the first happened. Again the same image of a person strapped to a table, dead. The scenes were repeated with some variations but the result was always the same: a corpse strapped to a table. Nakir's voice chimed in.
"Ursain has been doing this for six decades," he said. "Six decades of searching your Imperium for the perfect vessel for me. Six decades of failure. Now he's finally found one: you. A pity that his success will be his downfall. You see, I went into this deal with the goal of having a permanent vessel with which I could do as I pleased in the Materium. At the time when they approached me, I had been psychically repressed in that box for a little over ten millennia, so naturally I jumped at the idea to be free. The Inquisitors agreed to my freedom, as long as I did a favor for them every once in awhile, and set about searching. However, about thirty eight years ago I made a discovery. They were going to use me as a weapon! A tool!" Nakir muttered something in a horrible tongue that made Roric's ears ring. "I was furious, as you can imagine, but I could not do a thing about it, lest I tip them off. I continued to bide my time, and then you came along, which leads us back to the present."
"How did you get on the ship?" asked Roric.
"I convinced the cabal of inquisitors who handled me that it would be more efficient to carry me to the subjects rather than the other way around. They agreed with a small amount of prodding. My prison was placed aboard this vessel, and the rest is history." Nakir chuckled again.
"What about the others? Does the rest of the team know about this?" Roric hoped that they were as ignorant as he was. He could hardly bare the thought of another such betrayal.
"Based on what I've gathered from your memories and those of the previous failures, I know that the psyker you call Montrose and your 'friend' Liam were hand picked for the assignment with full knowledge of the nature of their mission. Nikki came on as Ursain's private whore and later as a lure for prospective male candidates. A quite effective lure, I might add." Nakir paused and then started to laugh hysterically. "I thought my betrayal was bad, but you've got me beat here. Everyone you've known for past twelve years has been manipulating you, most of what you've been told is a lie, and to top it all off, the man you looked on as a father thinks you are less than worm." Nakir laughed even louder than before. Roric lay in his bed, mulling over the recent, and catastrophic turn events. He weighed his few options for several moments. Damning himself wasn't as hard as he had thought.
"Let's talk," he said, and Nakir's laughter abruptly stopped. "I'll listen to this deal of yours."
"Excellent, you've seen reason. I propose a mutual partnership between us. We coexist within one body, and one mind; a symbiosis if you will. I get my freedom from that damned box as well as my revenge, and you get immeasurable power along with whatever type of revenge you can think of. My only condition is that you treat me as a partner, not a tool, and to allow me to experience the Materium in a way that agrees to the both of us. Sound fair?"
"Not yet. I have some conditions as well. I'd like the physical mutation kept to a minimum. You are not to take control of my body unless I allow it: I won't have you abusing it whenever you feel like it. I'd also like our personalities and thoughts to remain as separate as possible. Neither of us can be of any use to the other if I am a gibbering wreck. If you have plans, I want to know them. I will not be manipulated anymore. Lastly if this partnership leads to me becoming a psyker, I want your help in learning to control that power, and I want other daemons kept away. If you violate any of these conditions, I'll turn myself over to the Inquisition, and then its back into a box for you. Fair?"
"Fair enough, although I can't really teach you about what comes to me as naturally as breathing comes to you. You'll need outside help."
"We'll worry about it later then. Do we have a deal?"
"Deal." Nakir chuckled.
"Enough with the damned chuckle!" Roric shouted. "It's pissing me off."
"Fine. Ah, I almost forgot. You have to go along with Ursain's little plan until they remove me from my prison. That involves you being strapped to that table you saw. I am confident that it shouldn't be a problem to get free once I fully connect to your soul," Nakir started to chuckle, but then stopped. "I also advise that you not speak aloud when we have our conversations. It makes you look a bit unhinged. Merely think the words and I will understand them."
"Sure thing, partner." Roric wasn't entirely sure he liked the sound of that, but it was far too late now.
******
The rest of the day passed without the usual conversation, and Roric spent his time going over the possibilities and dangers of his deal. It was certainly preferable to being used as a daemonhost, but in essence he was voluntarily becoming the same thing. He had no idea if Nakir would hold to the conditions he had laid out, and Roric knew that he certainly wouldn't be able to stop him if Nakir decided not to. Roric was still brooding when the ship's alarms started blaring. The other ship had arrived.
"Ah, this reminds me of a deal I made ages ago," Nakir said with an air of nostalgia. "Something about time running out and tolling bells or some such nonsense. In any case these bells herald the beginning of a new deal instead of an ending. I'm looking forward to this...partner." Roric rolled out of his bed and dressed hastily. He needed to look normal if he was going to keep this charade up. He took his cigarettes and his favorite black storm coat from his closet. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed his knife. He examined it closely. He had crafted the deadly thing by hand after learning how to do so on Catachan. "One hell of a year that was." he thought with a smile. He held it in a relaxed fighting posture, feeling the weight in his hand. He flipped it from hand to hand, reveling in its perfect balance. All of the sudden, a delightful plan entered his head. He slid the knife into its hidden sheath in his coat and left his room.
He ran along the ships corridors until he came to Nikki's room. He knocked softly on the door. There was a click as the lock slid back. The door opened inward a few inches.
"Its 0200. What do you want?" Nikki said with a yawn.
"I've got something important to tell you. Can I come in?" Roric said with an innocent smile. He watched Nikki's face change from mild annoyance to intense curiosity.
"Sure, come on in Rory," She opened the door the rest of the way and Roric stepped inside. He glanced around the room, which was a penthouse compared to his. He looked at Nikki, who was placing an autopistol back in its hiding place. She was wearing a pure white bathrobe. She turned to face him. "So what's up? And it had better be damned good for waking me up at this hour." She placed her hands on her hips and stared at him with an amused look on her face.
"I'm being made an Inquisitor! After only twelve years!" Roric tried his best to sound excited. He watched her expression. Her face smiled, but her eyes betrayed something. Pity? Contempt was more likely.
"Well then, we should celebrate!" she said with a lewd smile. She slipped out of the robe and let it fall to the ground.
"Precisely what I had in mind." Roric said with a wicked grin. He closed the door and locked it. The doors and walls were thick. Sound didn't travel through them well.
******
After he finished, he showered in her room, then dressed slowly. He took extra care that nothing got on his clothes. He cleaned his knife on Nikki's robe, staining it deep crimson. Roric smiled; the look on her face had been priceless when he'd slid the knife into her gut after they'd made love. She thought he had turned to get a cigarette. She'd died like a frightened animal and he gutted her like on as well.
The bloody message he'd left on the wall, not to mention the one in the bed, was an especially nice touch, one he'd be sure that the others would get. It would give them a warning, which was only fair. Despite their betrayal, they were still a little like family, and he couldn't begrudge them a head start. Besides, it would be more fun to chase them. He checked the time: it had taken ten minutes. He took her key, cranked the environmental control to as hot as it would go, and then stepped outside. He closed the door and locked from the outside. He snapped the key inside the lock and tossed away the broken piece. The smell would eventually get the others' attention, as would her curious absence over the next several days.
Roric strode to the command bridge with a smile on his face. Things were going according to plan so far, and for that Roric was happy. A part of him regretted what he had just done; he had liked her. Then again, she had betrayed him to a fate worse than death, and what he had wanted to do would make her death seem like a mercy. Roric put those thoughts out of his head as he arrived on the bridge. Ursain, Montrose, and Liam were all there watching the other ship make its final approach.
"Here it is boy, and in three days like I told you." Ursain said with a hearty laugh. "They'll be sending over a shuttle. We'll conduct the ceremony on their ship. Where's Nikki?" Ursain cast a curious glance at Roric. Roric put on a disarming smile.
"She's indisposed at the moment. She said she was feeling poorly and apologized for not being here. I didn't ask, but I'm sure it's just that time of the month."
"Hmph! Women." Ursain growled. He turned his gaze back towards the approaching ship. Roric breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The ship finally stopped, and the auspex chimed as it picked up a new contact: the shuttle. It hailed the Hand for docking coordinates and the pilot directed it to one of the cavernous landing bays.
"I have to make stop by the armory," Ursain said candidly. "I'll meet you in the landing bay." He motioned to Montrose and Liam who followed him out. Roric followed them out and headed toward the landing bays. It took all of Roric's control to keep smiling. His heart was thumping painfully inside his chest, and his hand shook as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth. He lit it and inhaled deeply, savoring the bitter taste and the familiar heat of the smoke. Roric took the cigarette from his mouth and scrutinized it. He thought back to the first one he had smoked, as a juve hiding in a closet. The taste had made him retch and cough. A janitor heard him and hauled him down to the disciplinary offices where he received a sound beating and a lecture about what a filthy habit it was. After that he had smoked at every chance he got, just to spite them. The other juves who smoked performed poorly in the athletic course, but it had never bothered him. Allison had hated it though; she had given him a solid left hook in the jaw when he lit up after one of their hurried "sessions". She had been one of his few fond memories of his younger days and then she had disappeared. That event carried blacker memories with it, and Roric tossed the cigarette away in disgust. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and continued his walk. His mood darkened and he turned his mind back to his immediate problem; avoiding a highly agonizing death.
******
Roric's footsteps echoed loudly as he entered the cavernous hangar bay. It was poorly lit, with a single beam of light shining down on the shuttle, and stygian darkness pressing in on it. The honor guard was standing rigidly at attention at the end of the loading ramp, their emotionless faces staring outward into the oblivion beyond the light. A small man in a black hooded robe waited amongst the guard. As Roric neared the shuttle, the guards' heels snapped together and they saluted crisply. Roric paid them no mind, his attention focused on the small dark figure.
"Cordial Greeting: Greetings m'lord," it rasped in a toneless voice. "This one is designated as Alpha, Zeta, Three, Twelve, Five, Five, serial number IS48934653948. This one has been tasked with the safe delivery of you and your esteemed colleagues to the Inevitable Justice." Roric took a half step away from the diminutive figure. He had seen what combat servitors were capable of and it was by no means a pretty sight.
"Speaking of my colleagues, where are they?" he asked.
"Statement: Inquisitor Ursain and his retinue have already boarded this vessel," cane the metallic reply. "They now await your arrival so that the shuttle may leave."
"Let's get this over with then." Roric stepped towards the loading ramp.
"Apologetic Statement: I am terribly sorry m'Lord, but you will not be riding with them. Query: Captain, if you would?" A hand grasped Roric's shoulder and spun him around. The last thing he saw was the butt of a rifle coming swiftly to meet his face, then the world faded to black.