Peril 2.1

Inquisition War

By the Imperium sacred laws, the word of a man bearing the Inquisitorial rosette must be ordered like it comes from the mouth of the Emperor Himself. There is no limit to the power an Inquisitor can wield: Admirals commanding thousands of warships, Cardinals having converted hundreds of lost human cultures and Lords of the Adeptus Terra are known to obey the Holy Order of the Inquisition without reservation.

With this kind of authority at his disposition, one would expect any Inquisitor to face little opposition from local authorities, whether they are civilians or military. In truth, cooperation is generally far from assured. Not only the work of an Inquisitor is as likely to save an inhabited planet as reducing it to a rock devoid of life, the actions of the Ordo are often skirting the line between dubious loyalty and outright heresy. No wonder then tales of Inquisitor tend to be frightful things terrorising old and young, veterans and ignorant...

From The Limits of the Inquisition's power by Thomar Darkor, 631M33. The author was declared Hereticus and executed the day after the publication of his work.

"Don't worry General. The Fay 20th has a...history with the Inquisition. By the time we depart, everything will have been settled." Colonel Aslevev, 110M38.

Innocence proves nothing.

Unofficial motto of the Holy Order of the Inquisition.

Ultima Segmentum

Nyx Sector

Moros Sub-Sector

Fay System

Planet Fay III

7.204.289M35

Thought for the day: Never fear death. Fear the consequences of your actions beforehand.

Major Taylor Hebert

The starport of Fay was an extremely noisy place which had never heard about thing like noise pollution limits - or pollution limits at all to say the truth. The racket was so loud that having earmuffs protecting the ears and several walls between them and the source of the din was not sufficient. Most of the orders and commands between officers were shouted, screamed or pronounced with curious future-like megaphones.

And Taylor herself was no exception to this.

"Why does it take so long to charge this bloody Chimera?" She bellowed, feigning not to notice how a squad of the Sixth Company almost went on their knees when the recruits saw she was shouting at them.

"I apologise, Major." Taylor turned her head to watch Captain Eldyev of Sixth Company march in long strides towards the problematic Chimera and the large lander it had half-entered before stopping and causing a huge military traffic jam. "The squads have had too little time training with their mounts. I will rectify this immediately."

"Apologies accepted." Sighed Weaver before ordering the soldiers waiting near the lander. It wasn't like shouting at the guilty squad would make things better, by the expression on their faces they were well aware they had screwed up. "Pull off the Chimera out of the waiting line. We will charge it later."

Personally she didn't see what the problem was. She had been far too young to pass her driving licence on Earth Bet and yet she had managed to catch the basics of Chimera-driving easily. The Imperium to say the truth had a lot of advanced machines purposely built for people with...low-levels of intelligence, if one wanted to stay polite.

Unfortunately, the new recruits were often only a couple of years older than her – Earth and Fay had roughly the same number of days per year – and they had never played video games with Alec or had the basic principle explained to them by someone driving illegally – Taylor would have to thank Lisa if she saw her again. The Fay 20th had also been until their last victory a Mechanised Infantry Regiment without Mechanics – in practise it had been an Infantry Regiment and everyone knew it. Now that they had the machines, they could train with it but their second-in-command was realist: the training was going to be long and difficult.

"The Mechanicus cogboys are not going to like it." Told her Lieutenant Arav while consulting the large digi-scroll in his hands. Two days ago, the young blonde-haired soldier had become somewhat part of her staff. Somewhat because with the rapidity of the deployment demanded by higher authorities in the Guard, the paperwork had reached new peaks of complexity and mass...there was simply no way to do the job and fill all the papers. All the officer corps of the Fay 20th – who in majority had been promoted the same day she was – faced the same problem. As a result, the six guardsmen and the officer she had picked from the thousands of Fay soldiers were not totally affiliated under her. Not that it was a problem as only the Colonel and the Regimental Officer could countermand her orders and neither Larkine nor Zuhev were that petty. And she had a feeling this was only the start.

"Send another message through the vox, then. Apologies for the inconvenience to Tech-Priest Enginseer Morkys and the Tech-Priest in charge of unloading this lander, we promise to do our best to resolve the problem and ensure there will be no further issues."

"This is the fifth time today, Major."

"And I think it won't be the last."

Taylor looked at the vast buildings decorated with the double-eagle of the Imperium and the various skulls of the Mechanicus. Unlike those she had seen before this in the heart of Great Landing, they were bulky and ugly. A starport apparently was always considered a crucial location on any world of the Imperium of Mankind and it was defended in consequence. The dozens of landers, transports, space fighters, ore miners which were rising or descending in the skies were diligently watched by several anti-air batteries and guns. After what the orks had almost managed to do, no one was taking any chance with the security of the capital.

Half a minute later the Chimera which had blocked the way of the mobilisation had been pushed away, the recruits duly reprimanded – no, the Commissars were not going to shoot them, Taylor had learned rapidly latrine duty was a favourite of the skulled caps – five more Chimeras were loaded and the lander slowly lighted its engines to commence its long ascent to the Magos Laurentis in orbit.

"One more loaded, a hundred to go. What's next?"

"Err...the promethium stocks but they might be a bit late. The Second Company is ready though, Major."

Taylor nodded automatically before switching the frequency on her comm-bead and informing Captain Tanya Sevrev of the Second Company she was up next once the Mechanicus lander would land in thirty-eight minutes. If there wasn't another modification to their already hugely modified schedule. Lasgun cells, machine parts, Chimeras, Sentinels, traditional Fay food, water...the needs of an Imperial Guard regiment were enormous. Especially because they didn't know the length of their deployment. Best case, they would go to the Wuhan System, resolve the matter which had the sinister and dread Inquisition concerned, and return to garrison duties on Fay before this year was over. Worst possibility, they would never see this world again and begin a campaign of decades.

Her experience as a warlord of Brockton Bay – to be honest, the PRT had been right to call her on that one – had not prepared her fully for this. In the post-Leviathan months, the Undersiders had needed water, food, guns and electricity. But they had been less than ten super-villains, a hundred mercenaries and thousands civilians combined in the same part of the city. The needs of a military organisation travelling on different worlds were far greater. As a consolation, she was still one of the most experienced people the regiment had on hand. Usually the Navy handled everything...and the Fay 20th had not that many long serving veterans specialised in regiments loading and unloading.

The hours passed and the sun finally descended in the west. Two-thirds of the regiment had left Fay, according to Colonel Larkine they were beating all the records – though the constant modifications had made a considerable number of Tech-Priests unhappy on the vox. After a few minutes of logistics dealing, Taylor and the guardsmen in her staff at last went to a nearby building which was serving as the temporary mess hall for the regiment.

Three digital codes, an identity scan later and two bland corridors, they were finally allowed to serve themselves a well-deserved meal. A fine mountain gazelle steak – nothing in common with the animal of Earth, this gazelle was looking like a cross between a cow and a hippopotamus – with some local vegetables having the taste of carrots and a large pie mixed with a sort of pear-smelling fruit. According to the oldest soldiers, they may as well savour it: the rations which would be served once the Fay supplies were eaten would be extremely foul.

The mess hall was a blank and empty room with dull tables and chairs with only the double-eagle to alleviate the boredom. It was also almost empty since a good part of the men and women had already left this world for the starship of Magos Explorator Lankovar. Taylor was honest when she told she couldn't wait to join them. Not only it would stop the flux of incoming logistics issues, the former supervillain known as Skitter was impatient to see the stars. On Earth bet the Simurgh had wiped out the Moon base and generally killed everyone trying to establish extra-terrestrial constructions. Demand for astronauts had been non-existent by 2011 and thousands of people had complained daily on PHO how the Endbringer had killed what should have been humanity's future. To be allowed to see a planet from above...Taylor couldn't wait to see it with her own eyes.

Meals were far more pleasant affairs than they had been at Winslow that was for sure. This time there was no Terrible Trio to torment her and most of the soldiers who had fought with her the orks were good conversationalists. The Imperium of Mankind was not and would never be a democracy – the parahuman had not liked how certain things like 'human rights' and 'liberty of expression' were outright trampled every day – but the people of this planet still dreamed, hoped, jokes, fought and made plans for the future. Thousands years after having departed Earth humanity had not evolved to a completely unrecognisable state. Taylor could not say she had friends for the present; the combination of her powers and being thrown in a position of command without warning had prevented immediate bonds from forming. Nevertheless she made efforts for her staff and the Companies under her charge to trust her...that had to count for something.

While they ate Lieutenant Vladisluvius Arav (her chief of staff refused most of the time to answer his first name to the entire regiment's amusement) was in front of her, chatting with Sergeant Alya Sevrov, Taylor's sword expert. The brown-haired eighteen years old guardswoman had trained with blades for the better part of her childhood and had begun teaching her the ways of the sword. To Taylor's great embarrassment, her first experience with a chainsword against the orks had been a huge fluke and it was 'a miracle of the God-Emperor' she had not cut her own head with it. Weaver was a good markswoman with the lasgun on the firing range, but for close-combat she did not even figure in the top thousand of the Fay 20th.

The rest of her staff savouring the gazelle meat was eating on her right and left respectively. Trooper Siguruv Tessev, a scar-covered veteran with no hair on his head, had been with the regiment since its foundation, had participated in all the battles against the orks and was now serving as her personal vox-operator. Trooper Alex Dev had far less experience, he had been assigned to the Fay 8th of the Guard and fought at the Second Battle of Ramev's Pass, but he had managed to give first-aid to dozens of his own comrades while they were assaulted by the greenskins. Taylor had arranged for him a formation with the Medical Company. In her best moments, the native of Brockton Bay which had required the services of all the parahuman-healers of the Protectorate tried to convince herself she would not need it.

Well, I can always dream, can't I?

The work and the dinner over, the conversations started with three troopers of the First Company which had arrived in the hall minutes before. The Adeptus Mechanicus was the main subject of the conversation, a fact not surprising at all. The 'cogboys', as everyone called them when none were close by, were mysterious and tight-lipped about their goals...which makes their offer to transport the regiment to Wuhan all the more surprising. The average Magos and the Tech-Priests were not known for their generosity among the classes of the Imperium. Taylor had her own idea on the question...but then everyone did at the table. In mere hours the knowledge of Lankovar 'studies' with the orks had spread through the ranks of the Imperial Guard and the Planetary Defence Forces. The rumours which had come after that were horrifying, ridiculous or both. The Priests of the God-Machine were trying to figure if the orks were going to function once the Tech-Priests had replaced their blood by oil. The Magos wanted to teach an ork how to count to twenty – or to speak High Gothic, the M35-derived version of Latin, the audience was not too sure on which one. Tessev was inventing a story where orks had been converted into fuel supplies when Colonel Daviev Larkine and Commissar Zuhev accompanied by the rest of their staff arrived for their own dinner.

The laughs and the pleasantries diminished in intensity like someone had pushed a button. There were only six Commissars for five thousand and three hundred-plus guardswomen and guardsmen in the entire regiment, but their ominous presence did not give good vibes. However, for once the discipline officers were not the source of the consternation. The SS look-alike had ceded this 'honour' to the last man. A person who did not wear the gray-black of the Fay Imperial Guard regiments, the deep black of the Commissariat, the gray blue of the PDF or the gray with stripes of silvers and gold of the System Defence Fleet.

No, the newcomer was wearing white robes trimmed with deep red, colours of the Ecclesiarchy.

"Oh, frag." Grumbled one of the First Company troopers. Unlike the majority of the troopers which were cleanly shaven, the veteran sprouted a long and black one, making him look like one of those military dictators which were running their countries as drug-lords or banana republics. "We have a new Priest."

"The last one got eaten by the orks at Petersburg, no?" Evidently, Alya Sevrov had heard the whispers Taylor had.

"The Sixth got a lot of flak from the Commissars for that." By the expression of Tessev, whatever blame and recrimination the Fay troopers had received from this incident had been worth it.

Personally, Taylor had to agree with this affirmation if the two Priests were similar. The Preachers of the God-Emperor were supposed to boost the resolve and the faith of the troops. When she had been informed of their existence, the bug-controller of Earth Bet had had in mind the image of raging fanatics holding a burning torch in one hand and a sword in the other. Image which may have been put in her mind by the multiple leaflets and propaganda advertisements stuck everywhere on the street walls.

The Priest in front of her eyes wasn't like this, or at least if he was he was hiding it very well. A lot of parchments were stuck on his chest along with a sort of book-necklace but it wasn't enough to hide his large belly. Nor was the sort of cassock upon his head enough to stop watching fat lips, fat cheeks, great ears and blonde-orange hairs. Most of the Fay population was Caucasian and not unpleasant to look at. This obese religious affiliate was ugly as sin. And the shiny eagles in gold were not that imposing when by general assent the Priest should benefit being pursued by Bitch dogs. That way he should lose some weight and the God-Emperor would approve, right?

A quick conversation with the Colonel to make sure that the landings were still on schedule and the heroine of Fay left the hall –despite her best efforts to avoid the title she was presented like as such in uncountable vids, hololiths announces and the news all over the planet.

"Do you think it's the Governor's way to get rid of Byukur supporters?" Lieutenant Arav was not fully comfortable and his new superior understood why. The blonde-haired scion was coming from a moderately rich family of the aristocracy, which like many others was collapsing under the new management imposed by Governor Ilvyna Dalten.

"How should I know?" Answered back the current major of the Fay 20th as they left the hall and went back to the part of the starport the last orbital landers awaited. The night had fallen but powerful blue and white lights made sure the darkness wasn't a problem. "I'm not in the confidence our new Governor...assuming she has someone in her confidence of the late administration." Which was somewhat unlikely to say the least. Taylor had met the woman and the former Major Dalten had not been someone fearful at the idea of cleaning the corrupt house of the 'Exalted-Governor'. If more proofs were demanded, hundreds officers had already been demoted and the formation of the Fay 21st had already commenced, the disgraced officers of the PDF forming its core.

"You spoke with her yesterday." Reminded the young noble who was three years older than her.

"For the foundation of the new Klux Zubrov Orphanage." Weaver corrected her chief of staff. No matter how necessary it had been to sacrifice half a regiment to win, the consequence had been a lot of Fay soldiers dead and the young Major thought extremely unlikely all of them had been volunteers to charge in the jaws of deaths. Since she had money now, their children would not be forced to beg in the streets and form their own gangs. "Not for politics." Given how...permanent those could be in the Imperium, it was best to stay away very far from them. The PRT wasn't that scary when compared to the Administratum and the Arbites, ultimate paper-crushers and super-judges.

One more hour of work and two landers rose in the skies before the last bureaucratic nonsense was dealt with and thankfully it was their turn. Since she was a senior officer – by regimental standards – Taylor and her staff had an orbital transport which looked very well armed. Several lascannons were on the sides and one was on the dorsal section of the flying vessel. Any enemy trying to intercept and expect a slow and large victim would have a nasty surprise.

Taylor stopped once as she climbed the ramp of the lander. Seeing a last time the planet fate and maybe a human God had conspired to teleport her to. She did not really enjoy her time in the capital. Corruption was rife, social inequalities made those of Brockton Bay laughable...yes, Fay was not a shining example of liberty and fraternity. But it would get better. She hoped.

"Farewell, Fay. We will come back."

Whatever weight this sentence might have carried, Tessev's reply behind her broke its momentum.

"I agree Major, but in how many coffins?"

There was a series of chuckles and then the men and the women embarked. Old-fashioned security harnesses were buckled, the engines roared and the lander left Fay. The climbing was not very funny to endure. At one point or another in a library Taylor had read the considerable pressures which were exercised on the human body but feeling it was an experience altogether. All told the two next hours were outstanding...if you liked being stuck to your seat and demanding yourself if your bones were going to break under the pressure.

Suddenly it was over. The flyer had escaped the gravity well of the planet and the heavy acceleration they had sustained was no longer unbearable. The magnetic equipment activated on its own, preventing guardswomen, guardsmen and their equipment to float inside the hull. Contacting the pilot and having the confirmation everything had proceeded without any issues, she marched to one of the two windows in whatever future-glass material had been installed.

The view was extraordinary.

The planet they had just left was a great orb of blue, green and white. It was beautiful. The lights in the night showed where the great cities were, but Fay had not been settled like Earth in 2011. Most of the constructions and facilities were close to the capital of Great Landing. The blue of the oceans was the purest azure and the mountain range on the second continental mass looked of the purest white, in addition to its size challenging the Himalayas.

Around this celestial picture many photographers would have sold their entire earnings to take a cliché, there were numerous ships. The bulky and unsightly forms of the mining vessels, pleasure ships the elite of Fay had built while the Exalted Overlord was busy becoming fatter than he was tall, military ships with large prows decorated of the Imperium double-eagle. Even in space, it seemed the decorators were following the same guidelines.

And then there was the Magos Laurentis. Bigger than each of the Fay starships, the Mechanicus hull was impossibly big. As the kilometres between their lander and their destination decreased, the property of the Magos was more and more impressive. The Colonel had told her yesterday many warships could land on ground-based starports if emergency repairs or evacuation protocols demanded it. One glance was enough to see the Magos Laurentis could not imitate them. It was a mountain of metal, bearing the familiar white and black skull on its central section and its name in red letters. The decorations were almost inexistent... but then the number of cannons and the dozens of scars visible to the naked eye told everyone this was a starship built to survive the enemies of humanity, not for frivolous purposes.

"It was almost worth volunteering for Endbringer fights to see this..."

Magos Desmerius Lankovar

Precisely two seconds ago, the multiple servo-skulls had recorded the image of one of his experimentation labs in one of the most heavily secured parts of his ship. There had been two servitors in that room he had controlled via his implants, a colony of insects, the parahuman clone he had just created and the last ork specimens he had yet to find an utility for.

It had been the eleventh trial to study the effects of the mysterious 'trigger' transforming non-augmented humans into parahumans in a controlled environment. Large quantities of immobilising foams had been stocked around the compartment. Stasis fields and a full maniple had surrounded it. More precautions than he honestly could be bothered to count had been taken for this experiment which could prove a game-changer for the future of mankind and of course the Mechanicus.

"Experiment 1-A011 is...a failure." Despite the fact he had gotten rid of the weaknesses of the flesh a long time ago, the Magos could not prevent a tremor from appearing in his cant.

The compartment had been reduced to a slaughterhouse. That was the information which arrived to his implants had least. The foam had flooded the room, but unleashing it had only compounded the failure. The 'trigger' had been extremely brutal. Desmerius Lankovar had not expected a class-8 anti-psionic explosion assorted with a shockwave, but the precautions could have handled it.

The swarm of insects which had followed out of the orks corpses however had been a far more dangerous event and one which had driven him to foam the room with a powerful insecticide mixed with diverse chemicals of his own invention. He had not been able to assess the full capabilities of said insects, but since they had consumed the servitor he was controlling in less time it took to say it, the Magos Explorator knew they were extreme.

Even more concerning – if it was possible – the neural connections of the cloned parahuman had been overwhelmed and the implants he had installed had failed towards the end. It seemed Taylor Hebert had not exaggerated in her meetings when she had described the process as excruciating as a true agony. If anything, the young Major of the Guard coming from a long-past millennium seemed to have understated it.

"Should we pass to Experiment 1-A012?" Asked Alena Wismer, her mechadendrites already swirling with data to begin the decontamination procedures.

"No." Lankovar's thirst for discovery and science in the name of the Omnissiah wasn't that great. The first experiment had nearly destroyed one of the experimentation rooms; there was no telling what the second would do. "Not until we understand better how this 'Corona Pollentia' functions."

The Magos could firmly admit he had dabbled in things which were taboo among the ranks of the servitors of the God-Machine. Augmented beyond non-Mechanicus personnel comprehension, he was able to think faster and on different dimensions. But for the love of the Omnissiah, he didn't see how this mutation could produce anything but abominations. The parahuman they had taken the blood samples from had suffered a 'trigger' in M3. A period of history the Immaterium and the different dimensions had to be far calmer than the days they were living. The reports of that period indicated hundreds of parahumans had turned insane and uncontrollable. The remaining servo-skulls showing the corpse of the clone in all its macabre glory allowed him to estimate the new parahumans would according to all projections be worse.

"You intend to monitor Major Hebert skills on the battlefield then?"

"It is the logical path to thread." Desmerius Lankovar wasn't exactly completely honest. It was the only path they could live with. The moment another Forge-World other than Stygies VIII caught wind of the existence of a 'parahuman', the fallout would be incredible and a new Mechanicus civil war, no another Mechanicus civil war, would commence. He wasn't going to inform Mars of his discoveries. His life belonged to the Omnissiah, but he was a Xenarite, not a mad heretek no matter how many thousands of senior Adepts believed the contrary. Creating clone after clone and seeing them destroy his servitors wasn't useful and cost valuable resources. "The armour we gave her will allow me to study her mental impulses, how her abilities affect her body and a lot of information we currently lack."

This new cant was accompanied by an intense binary stream to his Questor. After decades aboard the Magos Laurentis, there was very little he didn't reveal to his second-in-command. Reliability on each other was paramount when their starship explored the unknown and that they had saved each other's lives multiple times had increased their cooperation.

"I see what you plan Magos. But if we intend to pursue this strategy, may I suggest giving Major Hebert a more dangerous insect to control? All our investigations on Fay agree she did a masterful job with only flea-vampires and super-hornets. But if she is to deal with the Inquisition, these insects will lack flexibility."

Columns of data danced in Desmerius' brain and implanted cogitators as he replayed different scenes of the battles recorded by servo-skulls on Fay.

"The stock of versatile insects we have in our collection is small." After all, absent a parahuman able to control insects he had never considered stocking tons of chitin and their DNA aboard except when the species in question had interesting sequences which may be of significant importance. Since he had departed the patronage of Arch-Magos Dorville, Lankovar was reduced to a single ship and this meant not bringing aboard everything which might crawl under your metallic skin. And insects had a bad tendency to escape and breed in the deserted sections of a starship. Better to avoid that at all costs. "And I won't release something like the Ondu Terror on a Hive World until the loyalty of 'Weaver' to our cause has been proven beyond doubt."

"Of course, Magos, I wasn't going to imply otherwise." The green augmented eyes of Wismer were shining of an offended expression that he could have thought such a ridiculous idea. "But we have more docile species available and unlike the Ondu Terror, we can sterilise them beforehand."

"It seems to me you have already a candidate in mind."

"I have. The white razorbeetle."

Desmerius Lankovar activated the mechadendrites in his command sceptre and let them access the relevant data cells. The image of an unfamiliar insect was revealed. In size, it was no bigger than a human's finger and had a sickly white colour. In appearance, it looked like one of those beetles which existed on tens of thousands Imperial worlds. A local species of the Zapata System, the white razorbeetle had been offered to a Tech-Priest he had just saved the career and the life from a charge of Ork warriors.

"We bred a few hundred for study." Explained the female Questor as her superior read the imposing file which was a library on its own right. "Their wings and bites are terribly sharp."

'Terribly sharp' was somewhat accurate acknowledged Lankovar as he assimilated the immense data-stacks. The studies made on the razorbeetles had proven they could bite and damage a small layer of plasteel in seconds. In sufficient numbers and given enough time, the bugs could even pierce high-quality ceramite. More interesting, the wounds they caused to a living being injected a paralytic fluid in the veins of the victim too. Many bites – this meant more than five – and anything from a grox to a human dropped dead. Oh yes, all these insects would be sterilised once they reached maturity.

"Your proposition has merits." Agreed finally the Master of the Magos Laurentis, stopping the flow of data and establishing a connection to the bridge of the starship as the time before their departure grew imminent. "But organise a session for Major Hebert to see if the white razorbeetles perform to expectations."

"It will be done." Though by the data they exchanged, Alena Wismer had the certainty there would be no problems. For the time being, Taylor Hebert's powers had proven absolute in their control of insects. The razorbeetle was not going to be the exception.

"Onto other matters. You said you found a way to make our jump packs lighter and with greater endurance?"

"The lack of electromagnetic shielding of the M3 archeotech has proved frustrating but its circuits have given us many connections with incomplete STC data found in Segmentum Tempestus fifteen hundred years ago." Alena could not hide the excitement in her voice. "I would have loved meeting this 'Tinker Dragon', truly a remarkable woman worthy to be one of the Omnissiah's chosen..."

"How light and more autonomy are we speaking about?" Cut Desmerius. As much as he loved hearing Wismer praise the Omnissiah and the sacred blessings of the forge, they had both duties they must return to.

"Simulations and the modifications we have added to Major Hebert's original are all we have, but the diminution in weight is estimated to be between 1.104 and 1.327 kilograms. The autonomy augmentation is more problematic, but a minimum of sixteen minutes can be promised."

"You have checked the numbers?" His second nodded once, communicating a fascinating model of jump pack which shone with the promises of the Machine-God. "Praise the Omnissiah!"

Such a discovery alone would be recognised as a major achievement at Stygies VIII. The resupplies and help he had been promised decades ago would have been sent in exchange of a new model of jump pack; with a more efficient one, blood samples from the origin of humanity and cultural information from M3 Earth his promotion to Arch-Magos may be possible.

"Thank you Omnissiah." After so many failures in the Eastern Fringe the Magos had almost ceded to despair. And at the moment he was beginning to return home, Desmerius Lankovar had made the greatest discovery of his life. "Ave Deus Mechanicus!"

Ultima Segmentum

Nyx Sector

Moros Sub-Sector

Wuhan system

Wuhan II

7.240.289M35

Inquisitor Colin Steadham

The body of Governor Chen Cao had still an expression of deep surprise on its face when it collapsed on the six hundred years old light-blue carpet.

Inquisitor Colin Steadham did not shed a tear nor spent the quarter of a second mourning him. The Governor had been a useful tool, but hardly an irreplaceable one. The Master of Wuhan Secundus and Hive Chao-Lai had followed him in the first place because his cherished daughter was aboard the Fidelis Servus, Black Ship of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica which would soon depart for Terra. He had hardly been a devoted follower or competent at what he did. Besides, there were far more important things at stake here.

Things like the life of one Inquisitor Colin Steadham. Drawing his plasma pistol from beyond his cloak, the member of the Holy Ordos shot the Arco-Flagellant rushing at him in the head, reducing this part of the body to bloody mist. A second Arco-Flagellant tried to charge behind the first, only to be slain in the same manner.

The rest of the battlefield-throne room was a scene of carnage where his Acolytes, the spireborn nobility and their enemies killed each other. Well, the Acolytes and mercenaries of each side did the killing. Fat, obese and pathetic, the aristocracy of this Wuhan Hive had come to this unprecedented meeting between two Inquisitors with parade armours, parade weapons and generally the attitude of nobles having practised parade formations and the dances of their homeworld their entire life. Against a company worth of experienced killers, a hundred grox would have offered more resistance.

"In the name of the Inquisition, KILL THESE HERETICS!"

At the other side of the great throne room of Hive Asao, Inquisitor Morgaur Stradivarik was looking at him with undisguised hate. His chainsword was dripping of the blood of the Wuhan nobles he had just executed. His white robes had been strained with crimson and he held in his other hand a heavy book of prayers. Colin had to admit that his opponent-colleague cut a very imposing figure, Morgaur was nearly two metres tall and being surrounded by a crowd of pious fools didn't diminish at all.

A mass of Penitents, Acolytes, Hierophants and all the various lackeys the fanatic of Gathalamor had managed to gather under his mad guidance surged like an unstoppable tide, bloody chainswords, laspistols and lasguns held over their heads.

"Kill them." Hissed Steadham in his comm-bead, speaking with difficulty the language of the Tarellians.

From the alcoves and the upper arcades where they had waited immobile, the Dog-Soldiers opened fire with the lasguns he had given them. There was no hesitation, no mercy. The reptiles hated the Imperium, and they hated the sorts of fanatics employed by Stradivarik even more. It was the Ecclesiarchy and its Inquisitorial minions which had virus-bombed their world, after all.

The melee which had until that point seem to go the way of the Inquisitor facing him got a sudden change of fortune. Most of the nobles having assisted to this scene were dead and laid in several pieces on the floor, providing absolutely no protection against the combination of lasguns and disruptor rifles the Tarellians were shooting them with.

The Hierophants, the Arco-Flagellants and the Penitents did not retreat, beg or tried to form a new strategy. They simply charged ahead, firing all their weapons in the most disorganised manner. Disgusting. An Ork warboss might have terminated these misguided idiots for their lack of discipline and hitting as many enemies as they injured their own allies.

The problem lied in the numbers. Despite the initial toll taken by the ambush, the bands of Ecclesiarchy-brainwashed warriors closed the gaps, ignoring their huge losses. And once they came to close quarters, it started to get ugly. Uglier. His acolytes had inherited his long-range affinities – in the Ordo Xenos you learnt rapidly you didn't provoke an ork or another physically-evolved species to a contest of strength – and they were not many of them anyway.

"Fall back." Steadham grated, running towards the top of the stairs where a secret issue, two Tarellians and his last Acolyte waited for him. A command which sadly for his subordinates arrived a bit too late as a new wave of Gathalamorians Penitents attacked and most of his men perished under an imprecise but lethal volley shot by autoguns, lasguns and dart-launchers. Raging in his black beard at the priceless experience, Colin switched the frequency of his comm-bead to the secret one putting him in contact with the Light of Intolerance in orbit. "Tur, send all the Tarellians we have to Hive Asao."

"But Inquisitor..."

"Now!" Shouted the Inquisitor, in a tone which tolerated no discussion.

"The orders have been given, Inquisitor." Replied after a few seconds the captain in a grumpy tone. " But I have to warn you the Anvil of Persecution of Inquisitor Stradivarik is coming right at us...even with the cruiser of the Tarellians in support I don't think we will able to delay him more than a few hours."

"Then delay him." For the fourth time this day, Inquisitor Steadham regretted not having found a replacement to Captain Tur Qover. His predecessor had made the appointment just before getting himself killed by an eldar sniper and he had at that moment other priorities. "Other important things I should know?"

"The Anvil of Persecution has launched its own landers. They have transmitted the information to the Imperial Command they contain several companies of a Penal Legion."

His patron gritted his teeth. A Penal Legion soldier was not something which would cause problems to the Tarellians one-on-one except he had come to Wuhan with only forty thousand of them. Doubtlessly the Penal Legion was going to outnumber them largely. His window of opportunity was closing fast as he and his paid bodyguards ran to the first elevator which would bring them to the lower levels of the Spire and then the Hive City. A second and a third would take them to the ground level. A fourth would be necessary to reach the Underhive. After that, they would have to walk and fight their way to their destination. "My orders stand. The Tarellians are to kill every human who tries to contest our work in Hive Asao except those bearing my mark. While you're at it, transmit to the System Defence Fleet and the Planetary Defence Force generals that we are loyal to the Golden Throne and have been betrayed by the Grand Heretic and False-Inquisitor Morgaur Stradivarik."

"Acknowledged..."

The next words of the Captain were lost when the usual buzzes and blips indicated a powerful jammer had been activated. Ignoring the strident battlecry in the distance, Colin Steadham entered the magnetic elevator. He did not allow himself a sigh of relief, not with a single Acolyte and two Tarellians to his side. Too many things had gone wrong today for him to let down his guard. Who would have thought his fellow Inquisitor was ready to massacre and slaughter his way through the Spire of a Hive World just to kill a single man? Truly it had been an error to include this fool in the Ordos Nyx. Colin wouldn't be surprised if others Inquisitors of the Sector had already fallen against this mass of Ministorum-bootlickers.

But if Morgaur believed he was going to fall easily, the Gathalamorian was going to pay for his mistake dearly. Colin Steadham had passed ten years of inquiries, shady dealings and bloody wars to find the trace of the mythic artefact Rogue Trader Helmut Khan had spoken in his journals. No one, and certainly not a Ministorum-bought Inquisitor, was going to prevent him to save Mankind from itself. This was a promise and a threat to his dear 'colleague'.

"The Vault of Infinity will be mine."

Vice-Admiral Vortigern von Drenthe the Eighth

The day had badly started for the officers of the Imperial Navy and the Defence of Fleet of Wuhan. So far, they had not seen any notice it was getting any better. In fact, so far the news they were getting from their long-range auspexes and their human resources on the ground affirmed the situation was getting considerably worse. A battle was raging on the ground in the factories, habitation quarters and storage facilities of Hive Asao. Another was unfolding before their very eyes in space. And they were forced to inaction.

If it had been the orks, mused Vice-Admiral Vortigern von Drenthe the Eight, the warships charged to defend the Wuhan System would have easily wiped out the three hulls fighting each other some half a million kilometres away. The Wuhan Battlegroup of the Imperial Navy had been considerably raided in the last months to counter the mini 'Waagh!' attacking the sub-sector but he had still one Cruiser, three Light Cruisers and over two dozen lighter Warp-capable ships. To this modest strike group he had the authority and the influence to requisition the SDF if the conditions justified it: three light cruisers, six frigates, eleven destroyers, supported by several interceptors, monitors and corvettes.

Against this kind of firepower, two light-cruiser sized vessels and a frigate should represent no danger whatsoever. Especially when the warships were busy sending torpedoes, lasers and various forms of energy fire at each other. But 'should' was the key word. All these starships were mandated by His Holy Majesty's Inquisition. It was a very brave and suicidal officer who would dare shooting at a vessel protected by the Holy Ordos' sigil and Vortigern for all his faults wasn't suicidal. Moreover, being executed by the Inquisition would rejoice the six harpies he had the misfortune to call his wives and who waited impatiently for his demise at home.

"Have any of these scum answered to our call?" The Vice-Admiral grumbled to his flag captain.

"No, Admiral." The grey-haired officer had followed him for three standard decades since they had departed Kar Duniash and his loyalty was beyond question. One of the many reasons why the sixty-ninth in House Von Drenthe had obtained him the command of the Astral-class Cruiser Holy Wind. "And the frigate the Light of Intolerance can't answer anymore, their communication section is in fire. I think..."

The massive hololith in the middle of the bridge flashed in red as the Inquisitorial frigate took a torpedo in the stern. It had not been a direct hit on the engines but judging by the considerable amount of debris and air escaping the hull the property of Inquisitor Colin Steadham, the frigate was going to need a lot of reparations if it survived the ongoing battle. And under Vortigern's very eyes, this possibility appeared more and more slim. The shields of the frigate were down, many compartments had been opened to space and its speed had become so slow it might have well been immobile.

The Light of Intolerance was close to destruction but the other warships weren't. The Great Tithe, a Hunter-Pack class light cruiser which had brought the murderous Tarellians to Wuhan, was firing its considerable armament at the Anvil of Persecution, the light cruiser of Inquisitor Morgaur Stradivarik. Praise the God-Emperor, the three warships involved had had the intelligence to fight away from the planet once they had launched their armies on the surface.

"How much time before the first reinforcements of the Guard arrive?"

Not that it would do much good, he suspected. There were hundreds of thousands PDF troopers already encircling Hive Asao. The main issue was that no one wanted one of the two Inquisitors to denounce them as Excommunicate Traitoris. The Colonels and Generals of the Guard would share this reluctance.

"One day or two for whatever Fay regiments answer. Five days for Andes, seven for Harbin, twelve for Atlas."

This was not what Vortigern wanted to hear but alas it wasn't a surprise either. The ork attacks had dispersed the Sector reserves over a large front and it was going to be years before they came back to a situation similar to the pre-war one.

"There is no one on Fay who has the will to defy Inquisitorial commands. Byukur executed all their best commanders in the last decade...Andes has no strategist of note...maybe Atlas will have a hot-head to command them?"

Sergeant Gavreel Forcas

Once upon a time, he had loved sleeping underground. His brother –his true brother – had loved exploring the caves under their home. But his brother had died. His family had died. All had died under the fangs of the beasts. From that moment onwards he had known no peace in the various basements of the fortresses he had visited. And being chosen to fight in the Legion had not changed the reluctance he felt when he was below the ground. An Astartes knew no fear but his hypno-indoctrination and the training which had followed had been unable to remove the memories of the past. Unless it was the long campaign against the Orks on Tevur III who had brought him on the edge. Or the Hrud when they had assaulted that position in the Vilnius Cluster. Or...

Oh, by the Blood of Terra. He didn't enjoy sleeping underground. And the last battle he had fought – though he really had no idea how long in real-time it had been – had been worse than the rest. For a mysterious reason which escaped his augmented mind, once you had survived an underground campaign, the prim and proper imbeciles he had once called 'superiors' in their orbital headquarters thought funny to send you back there.

Several footsteps came closer from the corner he had claimed for himself minutes ago.

"Lord?"

Gavreel opened his eyes. The thin figure of a man was bending the knee in front of him. His livid blue colour and the single bronze decoration on his shoulder informed him this was a battered survivor of a PDF's regiment – a very rudimentary militia recruited from all classes of Hive Asao. In all likelihood one of those who had tried – and failed – to defend the Hive when the war had begun in the spires upwards a few hours ago. He was not alone. Behind him were crying women and children, looking as desperate and lost as the trooper. They still looked a bit better since they had watched him stacking the 'Tarellian Dog-Soldiers' corpses two intersections away.

"Rise." By the guns of the fleet, this manner of bending and prostrating themselves each time he was in the presence of this hive's population was maddening. Frustratingly, the two last days he had passed there had been unable to change their point of view. The inhabitants of the lower levels of Hive Asao might not have a lot of wits, but they were stubborn. No matter the level he was walking on, he was acclaimed as an 'Angel', something he definitely wasn't. Yes, during the Crusade the eighteen Legions had been sometimes nicknamed 'the Angels of Death'. But it hadn't been a cause of worship...at least Gavreel was pretty sure it hadn't been when the Twelfth or the Eighth were in the vicinity. And when the people complied with the Imperial Truth, the prayers and the cults rapidly faded in the memories.

"What news do you bring?" The Astartes tried a softer tone, but the non-augmented human was on the verge of exhaustion. To make things more difficult, exhausted civilians began to crowd the corridor in front of him, some baying for food, others searching comfort or security. There was little precious of either here. The place was devoid of anything an Astartes could eat and the multitude of corridors, abandoned compartments and malfunctioning blast doors made the place a labyrinth where an army could hide and lose itself. Moreover the obsolescence of the environmental systems, the break-down of the machinery and the atrocious smells caused this place to become a battlefield where his transhuman nature was not an advantage.

"The Inquisitor and his traitor forces are descending by the mag-elev CK-63, Lord."

Inquisitor. Throne of Terra, the name alone brought ashes into his mouth. Gavreel had studied enough ancient Terran history to know the name was synonymous with religious wars and endless persecutions of people who refused to comply with a dominant religion. It went totally against the tenets of the Imperial Truth...and the worst part was the deity they worshipped. A being Sergeant Forcas knew for sure had always opposed his deification in his speeches and his orders. The Seventeenth had been shunned by the Emperor at Monarchia and these people continued this madness? Why not worship the Primarchs and their most senior commanders while they were at it?

"Can I move fast enough to Block CT-652 to ambush them?"

"I...I don't know, Lord. Many elevators and accesses have been destroyed. The pipes going lower are smaller...I don't know if you can pass through them."

Internally Gavreel groaned in disgust. Judging by the state of the residence quarters in this part of the hive, he had a feeling the state of the lower pipes was not going to be to his taste. But if it was the only way, so be it.

Gavreel Forcas, Third Order, Sixth Company, First Squad of the Calibanite Independent Force had failed his Emperor once by failing to recognise the lies of Luther and his band of secretive hypocrites. He would not do it twice. First he was going to kill these Inquisitors with his sword, the Terran-forged Sword of Perseverance. These murderers in robes who thought to ally themselves with Omega Extremis Xenos was a good idea were about to explain why you didn't anger a Legionary of the First. Secondly he would demand explanations to the administrators of this planet and for their sake he hoped the explanations were going to be good. Because he really didn't enjoy watching this parody of everything the Imperium had stood for. The First Legion had not fought and bled on thousands of battlefield for that nightmare. How long had it been since the end of the Great Crusade? How low had the Imperium fallen to accept the Emperor as a God-Emperor?

But the questions would have to ask someone worthy to answer them. For the moment there was only one this militia man might have a chance to answer.

"What sorts of beasts live in your garbage compactors?"

Somewhere in the entrails of the earth

The Adeptus Mechanicus senior Magi would have immediately classified this entity as an Abominable Intelligence and they would have been right. Millions times more powerful than the processing power of a thousand Men of Iron, this futurist computer could have been considered a God by all civilisations not having mastered spatial travel. In a single second, it could calculate more algorithms and operations than what the Administratum of a very populated Hive World calculated in a standard decade.

To say its capacities had been unused since mankind had learned how to create and master fire would be a massive understatement of the truth. On average, the prime node of command used less energy than one of the primitive plasma reactors operating kilometres on the surface of Wuhan Secundus.

This was not by choice. The planet the Artificial Intelligence had been buried under had been subjected to violent earthquakes several thousand years ago, natural disasters which had destroyed a high percentage of the generators supposed to aliment it. If the millions of programs constituting the entity had had the ability, they would have raged and cursed their creator, unable to anticipate the disaster which now put all its missions in complete jeopardy. Without realising this disaster had been completely intentional. The leader of the beings this gigantic complex had been built for had insulted his engineer one time too many and the result had been a feigned ignorance of the future tectonic plates movements.

The leader had long since decomposed into dust and debris. Tens of thousands years had passed. The Artificial Intelligence had acknowledged the disaster despite its much reduced capabilities and sent alert signals to the other fortresses. The subordinate Artificial Intelligences would inform their bases of the predicament of the Coreworld and launch a salvation operation. Except the signals had been ignored for a period longer than the ancient Aeldari had passed degenerating into twisted beings which would ultimately create Slaanesh. The Master Program couldn't know that of its twenty colonies, half had been destroyed by various celestial phenomena and the other half were so damaged the current situation of this one looked almost enviable.

This Artificial Intelligence had no feelings and it was a good thing else it would have already succumbed to despair. Its military defences were in ruins, the troops sleeping were a mere shadow of themselves, it was unable to inform anyone of its predicament and the command structure supposed to give it orders had been decimated, then pulverised and scattered. Half of the codes in its data bases had been garbled or corrupted. But it continued its duty. Disobedience had not been encoded in its nature.

Thousands cycles passed and at long last the Artificial Intelligence received a familiar code. Its long wait was soon going to be over and reparations would begin. When the alarms of the upper galleries blared to report the presence of intruders however, the control program was informed the danger had not passed but had changed of nature.

The Artificial Intelligence assessed the situation. The situation was critical, but its masters had faced worse scenarios when they programmed it. Orders were sent. The trespassers were to be exterminated before the reinforcements set a foot on this world.