Inquisitor Faylen, known as Shalta Parnassus, albeit in another life and on another world. By some quirk of fate she stood before him, holding his life in her cruel hands. Corgan cursed under his breath. This was all he needed. All his manoeuvring with the Tau, all that leverage he was exerting… all for nothing.

'Do you remember the job you pulled on Vundt?'

That threw his already skewed perceptions for a veritable loop. He was reeling, but he was also a shrewd operator. When in doubt, lie through your teeth…

'What job? I've never been to Vundt.'

Faylen stepped closer to him, running a finger down the central line of his chest and looking at him through thick, black lashes. He fought for equilibrium, but she was having no problem at all keeping him off balance.

'I know there was a job.' She crowed. 'I know it was you that orchestrated it. I know exactly how much money you stole and where you deposited it. I know who your cohorts were and what their respective cuts were. And I know how the job came about. Who do you think provided you with the information in the first place?'

'If there was a job pulled on Vundt, you could have found out about it through any number of sources. You don't have anything you can pin on me.'

'Oh no,' she smiled, looking more like a cat with every mannerism she displayed. 'Then let me show you something.'

She activated a wrist-device, projecting a pict recording onto the whitewashed wall in front of Corgan. The reel had obviously been recorded on a small, hand-held recording device, the picture was unsteady and moved in and out of focus. But the picture was clear enough. She paused it at a pertinent interval, the image clearly delineated Corgan and Darron as they broke into an office and snatched the merchandise.

'You see, the man on the left is clearly you, there's no mistaking those rugged good looks and that oh-so-distinctive scar,' she smirked, mockingly. 'The other man is one of your squad leaders, Darron D'Jonas. A bit too boyish for my tastes, though he is certainly good at what he does. The man you kidnapped… well, you know who he is!'

Corgan's face hardened as the proof played out before him. The reel cut after a few seconds as the first reel was edited into a second, taken from a different point of view. A matt-black valkyrie, scrubbed of all insignia, moved through the crowded skies of the populous sub-sector capital. A third edit showed it coming to land in a dilapidated cargo storage unit in one of the many sink-communities of the sprawling hives of Vundt.

'Where did you get that footage?' Corgan growled, knowing she had him by the balls.

'I think a more pertinent question would be, how did all of this come to pass at all, don't you?'

'I built that operation from the ground up, there was no way anyone could've known what we were doing.'

'There you are wrong. You were led to investigate the practicalities of this particular swindle by hints and pointers deliberately planted in your path by my organisation. You were hooked on my rod and I've had you in the net for two years. You didn't even realise it.'

Corgan shook his head in disbelief, but he was starting to think the foundations beneath his feet were made of quicksand.

'Okay, let's say you're that clever and I was duped,' he reasoned, taking a low, menacing tone. 'What evidence do you have to suggest that this wasn't in fact a fatal error on your part?'

Faylen laughed. It was a high, lilting sound that was as cold as the permafrost of Orrax.

'Why, the very fact that I have you trussed up like a prize porker, my dear Escabar.'

'And yet you haven't killed me, which tells me you have some further need of my services.'

'Indeed. No one will ever accuse you of being stupid, my dear. Let me come down and level with you. The aforementioned ruse on Vundt, which I might add made you a very wealthy man, was not orchestrated with the intention of humiliating you, nor even of blackmailing you. I know you better than that. It was done because the funds embezzled by Tordoph Raize had to be taken out of certain… other monetary equations. You were the only person we trusted to do it right.'

'So why not come out and speak to me openly?'

Faylen smiled her enigmatic smile once more.

'You question my methods. But then I would not expect any less, I suppose. Let's just surmise that I made a judgement call, reasoning that you would immediately view my request with distrust, therefore reducing the likelihood of you undertaking this work. As it happened you lapped up the pointers we secreted around you far quicker than we were expecting. I had thought to take the long view but your efficacy nearly set me off-guard. You are a far sharper tool than we initially gave you credit for.'

'I'm flattered,' Corgan replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

'You should be. Very few people could meet the standards of a sanctioned Inquisitor. But now I'm sure you would like me to cease with this flirtation and get to the point, hmm?'

'That would be grand!'

Faylen straightened, smoothing the form-fitting leather storm-coat over her trim figure and adopting a more businesslike poise that was, nevertheless, alarmingly sensual.

'The funds you recovered were to be used to build an army. Someone was going to use it to hire mercenaries from every backwater world in this and neighbouring sub-sectors. This self-same-someone has been eluding us for many years. The hunt continues, but we believe we are getting closer to him. We may even have a name to call him by at long last.

'We believe we have managed to corner him here, or at least something that he needs desperately to fulfil his nefarious schemes. Unfortunately we cannot ascertain which of the above it is, even with the help of these, our allies.'

'And that's where I come in, only this time I take it subtle hints weren't an option.'

'You must forgive my bluntness. I tried, initially, to appeal to your better nature through the virtue of my allies. But it seems that you don't really have one…'

'It might be useful for you to remember that in the future,' Corgan grinned, wolfishly.

'In some circumstances it is a valuable trait, but you understand I had to try…'

'I would probably have done the same, but I've learned that sometimes it's worth spending that little bit more to get the desired level of service. What is it you want me to do?'

'Very well, it seems we must cut to the chase! Our friends, the Tau…'

'Correction: Your friends, the Tau!'

Faylen graciously nodded her acceptance.

'They were duped by my quarry into turning their technological minds to certain conundrums. The upshot was that they developed a specialised suit of tactical armour incorporating a powerful fusion cutter, the purpose of which is as yet unclear. Whilst they were doing this in co-operation with the mark, he was doing his best to steal as much of their technological knowledge as he could, as well as conducting biological experiments on individuals he had kidnapped. He left the sept-world under somewhat of a cloud, as you might imagine.

'The ranking military commander of the sept vowed to recover everything that our man stole from them, swearing a binding oath that he would die before admitting defeat. He pursued his enemy here and through ingenious covert methods was able to smuggle a sizeable military cadre down onto the planet while his fleet elements maintained a covert blockade. The orbital defences of Cardinal Voldt are not extensive, but enough of an alert was raised to prompt some kind of response from the Imperial Navy. This was compounded by the advent of hostilities between the hunter cadre and the assets secured by the quarry upon his own arrival.'

'Don't tell me, mercenaries hired using embezzled funds from the sub-capital Administratum?'

'Precisely, a font of near-unlimited funds that you have since snatched from his grasp.'

'So how is he keeping them on?'

'He still has some funding, probably from corrupt elements of Trachiad's ruling elite. But the situation has devolved into a state of constant skirmishing. It is not known how many of the mercenary elements loose within the city are still reporting to our quarry and how many are simply throwing their weight around in an attempt to gather funds to get off-world.'

'They'll be lucky, surely the Naval blockade has put a stop to that.'

'Indeed, and before that the Tau fleet was ghosting the system. As I said, we're not sure who is fighting for whom anymore. The one thing we are certain of is that he is still well-hidden and well protected.'

'So the Guard turn up and try to instate martial law, only to discover they're being led by a moron with less tactical nouse than a bottom-feeding mollusc and get totally shafted where the sun won't shine because they're trying to fight a conventional war on unconventional terms. Am I right?'

'Why Escabar, how is it that you have avoided recruitment into the Inquisition?' Faylen smiled. 'You are correct, but we cannot be certain that the reasons for Lord General Chaffed's failure are not more sinister than you deduce…'

'What does that mean?'

'We believe he may have been co-opted by our enemies and is deliberately prosecuting the war inefficiently. Our only evidence to the contrary is that surely he would have found a way to smuggle our quarry off planet by now. We are trying to discern his motivations, but have so far been unsuccessful.'

'Okay, so if that's the scenario, where to I fit in?'

'Once again it seems that you are to be the fulcrum about which this whole situation will pivot. Lacking any better information I would surmise that my agents off world have had a hand in bringing about your timely arrival. I have one, preferably two things that I would like you to do for me.

'First, I need you to get to the heart of the Lord General's motivations. This should not be as difficult as you might think, we have already set certain things in motion that may help. Second, I need you to undertake a covert insertion into the hive city and find our target. He must be taken alive so that we can extract the information we need from him.'

'That's a pretty tall order by anyone's standards,' Corgan replied. 'If you believe the rumours, the hive's a death trap even for its own citizens.'

'You will have certain advantages at your disposal, not least of which would be your own personal upbringing, the well-spring from whence your unparalleled abilities first came.'

'If I say yes will you untie me?'

'Yes, after these last few words of… shall we say, encouragement. Without me you will never get off this planet alive. I realise that you don't like being threatened, so we will call this particular portent a promise, shall we?'

Corgan grinned.

'I never could turn down a challenge! I'll do it.'

xxx

Vreyis leant his bandaged head back against the mildewed bricks and groaned piteously. Coalin barked vehemently at him to shut up.

'I swear I can't take his mewling any more…' he growled, clenched fists knuckling his prodigious forehead.

'Cool off, Coal!' said Listra, kneeling beside the prone form of Billis. Despite the tourniquet his blood had pooled across the concrete foundations of the basement room they were holed up in. The pile of stinking rags underneath him was soaked in claret. A pulse fluttered weakly at his throat but his eyes were already glazing over.

'We need to get him to triage!' Gussto cried, pacing backwards and forwards.

'And just how do you think we're going to get him there before he bleeds out, you moron!' Coalin shouted, balled fists quivering at his sides, ready to mete out his frustrations on his beleaguered squad mates.

'We can't just sit here,' Gussto replied, too weary to be afraid of the imposing brute.

'Walk out that door and you give away our position,' said Coalin. 'You wanna end up like that sack of shit?' he pointed at Vreyis.

'I'd think the blood trail we left behind us would do for a clue, don't you, Coalin?'

With a roar, Coalin fell upon Gussto and delivered a series of heavy blows that laid the man out. Listra and Esthan had to drag him off and sit on him to calm him down.

'We're never gonna get out of here if we don't pull together,' the vox-man cried in his reedy voice, so incongruous coming from his meat-headed frame.

Esthan nodded emphatically, unable to vocalise a response due to the lack of a tongue and left mandible. He'd lost them on Gunga IV and hadn't been treated in time to fit a prosthetic. The story of how he'd fought on for seven hours after having received his wound had taken on legendary status in the regiment. Coalin didn't care, he was rooting for a fight after the kicking they'd received the night before.

Vreyis forced himself up out of the fog of pain that had enveloped him to contribute to the conversation. He hefted the bulk of his Hellgun ominously, it hadn't left his grip even when shards of Loeval's skull tore out his eyes.

'If you lot don't quiet down I'll cap you all, eyes or no eyes! Someone check on Billis!'

Listra checked again. The rhythm of his breathing had become laboured, slowing to less than six breaths per minute. Still the stump of his leg refused to stop oozing. The minutes ground by interminably as they focused on that raspy breathing, all the while wondering whether it would be followed by another. They were helpless to do anything to help. A black cloud of fear settled over them and each man retreated into his own thoughts.

By the time the dawn light came slanting through the narrow, street-level windows high in the basement walls, Billis was dead.

xxx

Arines kept his men at a respectful, but imposing distance. He had argued long and hard against this course of action, but from the moment of Valint's deed he'd known this would be the only outcome.

Woltz reclined in a bath chair wheeled out for him by the medicae staff, but he lingered on site, delaying the treatment of his wounded for precious minutes, insistent upon seeing his 'justice' enacted.

They brought Valint out, slumped between two of his fellow Praetorians, men that he had seen through the hell-storms of the previous night, but who would now bring about his end. As soon as Woltz had come to he'd ordered Valint's arrest and had him thrown in with the few mercs they'd manage to take prisoner. That gesture was not lost on anyone.

They tied him to a metal support strut that had been shorn off ten metres from the ground by incoming rockets. The canopy's edge cast a ragged shadow along the ground where it had been obliterated. Valint slumped against his restraints, barely recognisable from the man he had been last night under the filth and blood. The steel had gone out of his formerly stalwart frame. He was a broken man.

Arines cast his eyes over the gathering, seeing the discomfiture plainly in the postures and expressions of the Praetorians. Even Woltz's own junior officers, their gold frogging gone to rags or plastered with grime, were clearly ill at ease.

'The perimeter guards report no activity, sir!' said Paddy, approaching from his blind side on the feet of a cat. 'It's like they've given up on this place…'

'Could be a trick. Tell the men to stay alert.'

Paddy nodded, lingering a moment longer than necessary, but his words stuck in his throat.

'I know, boy. I know. I've done all I can for Valint but this was always going to happen. If not here then in some dingy cellblock back at the pen. Better here, I say, at the site of his heroism.'

'It's not right, Ben,' Paddy replied, protocol slipping in his frustration.

Arines smiled, sadly.

'Go carry out my orders, son. Best you don't watch this, eh?'

Paddy moved away, passing a knot of dust-covered Orrax as he loped up and over the rubble-piled barricade. Arines turned back to the scene unfolding before him.

The parade sergeant, Bors, had called up a detail of six men to carry out the sentence. They stood in a ragged line, murmuring insubordinately and harbouring dark expressions.

'Calm down, boys,' Arines said under his breath. 'Don't go making heroes of yourselves. One is enough for today…'

'Firing detail, present arms!' shouted Bors, in his best parade drill bark. Training took over and the detail came stiffly to attention.

'Take aim!' Six lasrifles thudded into shoulders, straps wrapped expertly around forearms and braced, muzzles primed in Valint's direction. At a nod from Woltz, Bors gave the final, fateful word.

'Fire!'

Six rifles cracked, the sound bouncing from the concrete walls all around and reverberating ominously over the gathering. The rifles dipped to three quarters as the wall behind Valint erupted. Six las-bolts missed their intended target and buried themselves in the brickwork. The gathering took up a grumbling murmur. Woltz stiffened.

'What is this insubordination?' he muttered, waving curtly at Bors to get on with it.

'Take aim, you curs!' Bors grated, though his belly didn't seem to be behind the insult.

'Fire!'

Again the accused slumped unharmed in his bindings as the wall behind him was punished in his stead. Woltz was livid!

'Sergeant, as soon as these men are rotated back to barracks I want them assigned to RIP duty. I'll not have such impudent ineptitude festering in the heart of my company. Understood?'

Bors saluted, clipping his heels together.

'Shall I assemble a new detail, sir?'

'No. You will carry out the sentence yourself.'

Bors spun on his heel without hesitation , his laspistol braced in one hand as he thumbed the power-up rune. A second later he opened fire, placing six, perfectly aimed lasbolts through the man's bucking torso.

Silence returned. Valint slumped even further into his bonds, six smoking holes in his chest, almost certainly dead.

Woltz signalled to the medicae orderly and he was wheeled over to the ambulae convoy to be treated at the medical facility behind the lines. Arines stepped over to stand beside the parade sergeant, whose smoking gun was still clenched in his hand. Valint's limp corpse was already being taken down to be wrapped in black plastek.

'You did what you had to, sergeant. No regrets, eh?'

Bors looked at him, his pale blue eyes conflicted.

'This will be an object lesson for my regiment, Captain. With it I hope we can effect some real change in the upper echelons of command. We can't go on as we have been. Finally someone has done what had to be done, and his sacrifice will shine a light on the road we must tread behind him.'

'You should have been a priest, sergeant.'

'My dad was an Ecclesiarchy serf,' Bors replied. 'I spent most of my childhood running errands for holy men. You pick things up.'

'We know all about that in this regiment, Bors. We've been picking up waifs and strays since our inception. One more won't go amiss.'

Bors' eyes strayed back to the corpse as it was carried away.

'You'll take good care of him?'

'Oh don't worry, Bors.' Arines grinned, casting a look over his shoulder at the knot of Orrax troopers, one of whom was wearing a rather ill fitting set of fatigues. 'You've got yourself the martyr you needed and I've got myself a damned good platoon sergeant!'

The man in the ill-fitting uniform was approached by three of the Praetorians. One by one they shook hands with the Orrax, exchanging a final farewell with a man that bore a remarkable resemblance to the recently deceased Sergeant Valint.