Chapter V
Nathan Mandrake had come to the Inquisitor's study after the meeting, now standing in front of his mentor's desk, whose eyes were studying a data slate containing Lucien Brennan's file. Different from Nicomedo's room the study was slightly bigger and essentially a library, with hundreds of books and data slates in store; the many candles were covered with glass-domes to prevent those priceless artifacts from burning. The desk was actually made of dark wood, the legs carved into the shapes of eagles, while the Inquisitor himself sat in an armchair made of the same wood, seat and back cushioned with red cloth. The Interrogator waited for his mentor to initiate the conversation, but as time passed, grew uncomfortable with the silence and needed to speak. "How are they taking it?"
Nicomedo's eyes moved up, meeting Mandrake's gaze. "Not well." He admitted. "It has created tension in the group; I hope Taylor can help it somewhat and I have decided that Jane and Seth will accompany you."
"Will it be necessary? It could be difficult to arrange on such short notice."
The Inquisitor put the slate aside. "I have already contacted Lady Nazahah, and while I don't believe the two will be vital to the mission, I should mention it is for their own sake. They have to keep working together, despite what has happened today."
Mandrake grimaced briefly, displeased by the idea; it just sounded too much like babysitting, and if they got into a fight, it would compromise the entire operation, yet Mandrake decided not state any further objection. There was only one matter he wanted to clarify. "Milord, there is one thing still bothering me." Uncertainty was in his voice, but after a brief pause the Interrogator continued. "The Brood doesn't consist of only a few dozen pureblood Genestealers, so even with the assistance of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers we are greatly outnumbered."
"I don't hear a question."
"Shouldn't we now contact the Lord Governor and demand assistance; Imperial Guard, the PDF…"
"No." Nicomedo answered decisively. "Genestealers are infiltrators; we don't know how many of the Brood are among his staff or even the nobility. If he learns about us we could have a war on our hands and the Patriarch escapes, continuing his work until the Hive Fleet arrives. If Brennan was lucky, the Genestealers killed him quickly and they remain ignorant about our presence." The Inquisitor ran a hand over his chin. "No, right now the Brood feels relatively save, their guard will be low and we won't have to face the entire force, with their puppets spread across the planet…if we are quick." Basil stood taking his trusted Bolt Pistol. "You should prepare yourself; it could be considered rude to be late."
Taylor rushed through the corridors, already in full gear: a black Carapace Armor with the Inquisitorial sigil on his chest and a breathing mask around his neck, seesawing with every step. The only thing he still needed was his weapon, maybe some other gear like grenades. They would deploy in 30min, but first he needed to speak with Seth, not only because Basil had ask him to. Finally Taylor reached his friends door; the smell of booze was in the air. The Untouchable rolled his eyes and groaned silently. It had taken them long enough to make Seth relatively sober, with exception to those two or three glasses before each mission, though it seemed almost too reasonable that he would pick it up again now. Taylor opened the door and knocked against the wall to his right. "Seth, we need to talk." His voice was calm as he gazed at his friend, who sat on his bed, a bodyglove and high-collard coat next to him. Right now Seth was dressed only in his pants, while a towel was wrapped around his neck; he was staring at a bottle cap that he was playing with between two fingers.
"I had hidden that bottle when you guys made me stop drinking after our first mission together; thought this just might be the occasion to open her up." Seth flung the cap into the bin, two meters away from him, where by the sound of it, it hit glass. "Then again, Brennan was the most persistent of the three of you: it just would have been too much of a mockery."
"It's strange to think that he's dead; we don't know this team without him." Taylor closed the door behind him and sat down on a chair. "But we knew something like this would happen."
"I thought there was still something we could have done." He still wasn't looking up, and stared at his bare feet instead.
Taylor pitied that he hadn't had the time for a long talk, feeling rushed he went for a direct approach. "You really think it was Jane's fault?" Seth eyes darted up to meet Taylor, with a mixture of annoyance and anger. "I'm sure I could put it more sensitively, but you've been acting like a complete ass."
"Is this your idea of a pep talk?" Seth growled. "Look, I know wasn't out of ill will, but what she did was cowardly."
"Yes, maybe in that moment it was out of a selfish desire of self-preservation, yet ultimately it was the right thing to do." There was a moment of silence before he continued. "It is a downright romantic thought to go down in some heroic battle against the enemies of the Imperium; maybe it was a shame that Brennan wasn't given that opportunity, but that's how the universe works." Taylor studied his friend, and suddenly it dawned on him. Why had it taking him so long to see it? It wasn't simply about Brennan's death itself; it was leaving him behind what bothered the former Storm Trouper. Seth himself had been thought dead and abandoned before he'd stumbled upon the Inquisitor after days in the jungle, injured and without supplies. Taylor took a deep breath and tried a different approach.
It was silent in the armory, as the seven Astartes prepared themselves, candles flickering above their heads, adding their light to that of electronic powered lamps along the wall. The air was filled with soft clicks of metal from weapons being checked and cleaned one last time, and the smell of sacred unguents used to anoint said weapons. Chapter Serfs assisted in donning the Power Armors, all repainted in black, the right shoulder guard however, showing the chapter icon, remained in their original colors to not anger the armor's Machine Spirit. The left shoulder guard on the other hand, along with the entire left arm of each and everyone, was electroplated in silver, the guards themselves displaying the Deathwatch icon: the Inquisitorial "I" mounted with a skull and crossed bones. Passages from devotional texts were engraved around the icon, and Cyrus could hear some of his brothers chant such lines like a prayer, their voices echoing through the hall.
To be Unclean
That is the Mark of the Xenos
To be Impure
That is the Mark of the Xenos
In his mind, Cyrus spoke the words like a mantra as his hands wandered over his weapon, checking every mechanism, before letting the components snap back into place. He was already wearing his Deathwatch Scout Armor and a Cameleoline Cloak over a form-fitted body glove. Purity Seals and devotional scripts were attached to his armor, earned in almost two hundred years of service in the Deathwatch. He had seen countless aliens, some as common as Orks, but also others more elusive such as Eldar and their fallen brethren. The torture chambers of the Dark Eldar had been among the most dreadful things he'd seen in his long career; even those who had been still alive, had to be killed or committed suicide after having to live through such a nightmare.
To be Abhorred
That is the Mark of the Xenos
To be Reviled
That is the Mark of the Xenos
To be Hunted
That is the Mark of the Xenos
Briefly the Blood Raven's eyes wandered over to Nadim, who was working on a Hellfire Flamer, a relatively new weapon in the Deathwatch arsenal. Potent mutagenic acids were mixed into the refined Promethium compound, making it capable of eating away bone and more importantly chitin in a matter of seconds; an ideal weapon against Tyranids, especially in the hands of Salamanders, who prefer Flamers and Meltas in general. A small talisman, the hammer sigil of his Primarch Vulkan, dangled from Nadim's weapon, a little something he had forged himself a long time ago.
Cyrus looked further to Cornelius from the Crimson Fists, aside from Apothecary Seneca the only other Marine in his squad. An energy sword was fastened at his side, and in his hands he held a Maxima Pattern Multi-Melta, a larger variant of the Meltagun, carrying more fuel, firing at much longer ranges, and creating a larger blast area capable of vaporizing several square meters at a time. Cyrus would try to keep a distance from this weapon, since it generated an uncomfortable amount of heat to everyone not in Power Armor. For this battle, many Astartes seem to prefer short-range weaponry, and yet Cyrus adjusted the scope of his over two meter Ultra Pattern Mark IX Sniper Rifle.
To be Purged
That is the fate of the Xenos
To be Cleansed
For that is the fate of all Xenos
Jane once again fixed her dress as the Glider cut through the clouds among spire Sedes, the night illuminated by countless windows. Her eyes went over to Mandrake, sitting next to her in a fine black suit, its sleeves adored with golden intertwining lines and wearing very pointy shoes, which quite frankly should have to be registered under cut and thrust weapons. Across from her sat Seth, who had cleaned himself up and changed into a body-glove under a long, high-collared coat. He was by far the most soberly dressed among them; she herself was wearing a crimson colored dress with fine bronze chains along her waist, the upper part fashioned like a corset, forcing her into an upright position. It wasn't uncomfortably tight, she was a slender woman after all, however it was restricting her mobility. A gloved hand checked her pined up hair and a heavy bronze necklace around her neck. It wasn't her first under-cover mission, but if they had to fight Jane was ill-suited.
Finally the Glider descended, attracting her attention to the spire once more. They were still far from the top, at a level where the air was still breathable. There was a large plaza with artificial lawn among its borders, in its center stood an at least five meter high fountain, while white marble stairs led to an archway, covered with a dark blue carpet leading into the governor's palace itself. A servant in a sober grey suit and white gloves approached the glider to open the door, bowing as he so. Mandrake grabbed his walking stick with the golden eagle-head on top and left the glider, his eyes examining every detail of the building in front of him. Jane was about to follow him, when Seth placed a hand on her shoulder.
"For what it's worth…I'm sorry about earlier." He whispered his voice sincere, as was the look in his eyes. Jane gazed at him astonished, but slowly smiled and nodded acceptingly. He smiled for less than a second, before removing his hand and followed her out. Several guards lined the way up to the archway; they wore floor length, dark blue robes, and face concealing helmets with large yellow and white crests. In their left hands they held oval shields, adored with the Governor's coat of arms. It was a winged lion, holding a sword in his paws, the tip in a skull to the lion's feet. The guards were armed with a halberd, whatever other weaponry they were equipped with was hidden by their robes.
"A shame it is night. Such altitudes provide the only living space offering real daylight." Mandrake mentioned as Jane took his arm. They would pose as a couple, while Seth played the part of their bodyguard; he'd been more thoroughly checked by security than the other two before they'd been allowed to take the glider.
"Do you miss the daylight on the Adrastos too?" She asked as the ascended the stairs.
"Sometimes." He confessed. "The lack of sunlight can lead to diseases and anemia."
"I know." Her reply came rather cool, slightly annoyed by his trivia. He started early this evening. "I'm a medicae after all, and am responsible for our supplements."
"Certainly." They walked through the enormous portal, into the white marbled entrance hall. Spiral staircases with golden balustrades led up into the tower, but they would be taking the elevator, its insides lined with pompous, golden framed mirrors and blue carpet. The elevator brought them several stories higher, where the Governor was having his party, far above the clouds of Victoria Primus. They exited into a long corridor, windows to both sides. The view was breathtaking.
From the ocean of clouds five other spires towered into the sky, all glowing with bright lights. Once the eyes adjusted one could see that the cloud ceiling itself was illuminated by the planet below, and in the distance lightning crackled in bright blue. The horizon was reddish, shifting into the black of space, where three small moons reflected the sunlight, one in grey, another in red, the last in blue. Jane could have even counted the craters on their surface, had she only the time.
At the far side of the corridor, two servants opened another golden portal, which led them into a great all, where the floor was made of white marble, and a detailed mosaic covered the center, which was currently hidden beneath hundreds of feet. The walls were made of the same material, except for tall stained glass windows to the left and right, presenting flourish motives in all possible bright and shining colors the human eye could distinguish. White marble pillars supported the ceiling, knot designs carved into the stone, broken up from time to time by stylized animal heads, most of which Jane didn't recognize. Her eyes wandered over the assembled masses; according to Mandrake about 300 nobles attended this party along with their personal guards, not to mention the Lord Governor's servants and waiters. The air was filled with chatter and music, some sort of string instrument was very prominent at the time, as the three descended the staircase leading from the portal.
It didn't take long until a tall and slender woman approached them, her black dress simple, a long white scarf that went down to her ankles wrapped loosely around her neck, the high-heeled boots were adored with a skull covering each knee, and three white feathers that had been tucked into her pined up hair whipped up and down with each step. There was an air of command around her, which everybody seemed to feel, as they all made room for her without even turning their attention towards the woman. A smile manifested on her lips, stiff as if rehearsed.
"Welcome Lord Mandrake, Lady Pravin." She bowed slightly out of etiquette and politeness. "My name is Lady Nazahah, I'm a sister of the Order Famulous and adviser and chamberlain of the Lord Governor Elias Lazzaro. Lord Nicomedo has contacted me and explained his intentions." There was a certain emphasis on the last word.
"You introduced us to this party." Seth concluded.
She regarded him with a cool glare. "Yes, Mr. Nelson, but I advise you not to speak in these circles. A bodyguard should not interfere in his employer's conversation, or speak at all without permission or good reason." His eyes shortly narrowed, but Seth remained silent and Lady Nazahah turned her attention back to the other two Acolytes. "I have made the necessary arrangements; if you would follow me, please."
Even the enhanced senses of an Astartes were not enough to see in the darkness of the Underhive's tunnel system, and most of those tunnels were barely big enough for the enhanced warriors. Each of the two Space Marine squads were assisted by ten Inquisitorial Storm Troopers, men selected from families with a record of unwavering faith in the Emperor and prior duty to the Inquisition, dressed in red uniforms, black hoods and Carapace Armor. Like the Inquisitor and the Untouchable they all wore Respirators, breathing masks that covered the entire faces, about all of them were wielding Hotshot Lasguns, essentially an improved and very new version of the Hellgun. Cyrus looked at the Untouchable, who had picked a shotgun for the occasion, and wondered how effective his natural abilities would be in the coming battle. Inquisitor Nicomedo appeared to be very confident in his decision, though that didn't say too much, coming from an Inquisitor; they didn't like to show any sign of weakness. Several of the Astartes still had their doubts about the Untouchable, except maybe Seneca and Nadim, probably because most of them had neither seen the effects of a Blank nor had been fighting Tyranids before.
Up to this point they hadn't encounter their enemy, only distant noises echoed through the sewers, indicating their presence. It was surprising, considering that six of the Space Marines wore heavy Power Armor, and their steps were not only hearable but sent vibrations through the metal under their feet. As they went deeper, human skeletons littered some tunnels, most of them torn apart and scattered along the way. Cyrus could see the Untouchable's posture stiffen at the sight of a relatively fresh blood-trail. After almost half an hour Seneca stopped; they weren't far from the central chamber now. For a few minutes they waited in complete silence, some of the Storm Troopers checked their guns one more time, while the Untouchable let a finger run over a button on his metal collar without pressing it, when suddenly several loud explosions shock the world around them, metal and stone audible breaking under the power of the charges. It was like an earthquake, and even though their tunnel had not been primed with explosives, the massive pipes burst at several places, dust was thrown into the air like in a miniature sandstorm, and water began to rush through the cracks. As soon as the explosion had settled, inhuman screams came from further down the tunnel. Now they had to move fast.
Qui alteri exitium parat, eum scire oportet sibi paratam pestem
Who prepares another's downfall, must know he himself is threaten by doom