Cities were like sand castles. Many were impressive, some were beautiful, but all collapsed under the enormous weight of the tides. Inquisitor Elias Kenfyk had seen the aftermath of far too many cities meeting the tides of xenos and the filth that the galaxy had to offer to care much for them anymore. He had the entire beach to look after.
Elias walked down the promenade of Equinox Secundus, taking mild note of the ruins around him and the local PDF repair and rescue efforts. This planet, Kleos, had interested him when the report had found its way onto his desk. A mysterious attack in the night. Civilians too frightened to leave their homes. A large-scale urban battle but few witnesses to report who had been responsible and the nearest PDF base too far away to immediately respond to the distress call. Well, that all almost sounded like an exciting challenge.
It was disappointing when Elias figured it out almost immediately.
He came to a stop along the road and looked up to see a trio of bodies hanging from a thick power line. Their skin had been torn free, revealing the sinew and muscle beneath, and they were tied to the cable via the arteries of their wrists, giving the illusion of macabre marionettes. It was a needlessly cruel and theatrical display. With the inclusion of the attack occurring nocturnally, that could have meant a drukhari invasion, but the numerous impact craters within the city's pavements and walls fit the dimensions of bolt-weaponry exactly. Astartes grade.
Elias let out a long sigh through his nose. Apart from a few exceptions, he did not like the Astartes. Oh, yes, they were the Emperor's Angels, of course. Divine manifestations of His fury and protection for humanity, glorious and pristine in their duty. But he did not like them.
The crunching of rubble-dust behind him announced the arrival of someone with either the clearance or audacity to approach an inquisitor. Elias turned to find a man in a PDF uniform with a greying mustache and captain's bars on his lapels standing before him. He had been assigned Elias's contact with the planet upon his arrival. What had his name been again?
"Sir!" the captain saluted. The gesture was too stiff. The man was clearly uncomfortable to be in Elias's presence. He likely never thought he'd ever have to see a member of the Inquisition, let alone converse with one. Elias attempted to give him a warm smile to put him at ease. The captain's back further tightened to the point that he might as well have been leaning backwards.
Damn, never have been good at that.
"What is it…?" Throne, what had his name been? Esterman… something or other.
"Estermaunchaustermach, sir!" the captain answered. Elias blinked.
"An… unusual name from what I gather of this world's culture, Captain," Elias said—as politely as he could muster.
Estermaunch– the captain nodded crisply. "A family name, sir! My great-great-grandfather immigrated, sir!"
Elias was tempted to insist on the dropping of formalities, but, in his experience, that often created a conflict in officials and officers that occasionally prompted madness, so he allowed it for now.
"You were saying, captain?"
The captain—Elias decided to think of him as 'Esterman' as a shorthand—nodded. "I've organized several squads to canvas the city. Any evidence they find as to what occurred here will be reported directly–"
"No need," Elias waved a dismissive hand. Esterman frowned, then saluted again.
"Sir!" he said. It was both an exclamation and a question.
"The combat patterns and style of the aggressors implies the presence of Astartes Hereticus, likely the VIIIth Legion. Similar weaponry and tactics from their opponents were employed, meaning they faced one of the Imperium's own chapters. The tracking and marks along the street here show heavy weapons usage. That along with the flagrant disregard of how they'd be impacting civilian lives tells me they could have been Sons of Manus. The lack of corpses from either side for the sake of harvesting geneseed and equipment adds further credence to the theory, I'd say."
Esterman listened on with a perplexed expression. "The… VIIIth Legion, sir?"
"Yes, but you aren't supposed to know about that one, so don't go telling anyone about it or I'll have to come back and kill you." Elias grinned but his companion visibly paled. Dammit, he had to be doing something wrong with that expression. Too much teeth, maybe?
The captain worked his jaw and swallowed. "So, what does this mean?"
"Nothing," Elias replied. "Your orbiting stations were raided for their fuel, which means the enemy already took what they wanted. The odds of them returning will be low, but I will send out a request for your world to be monitored just in case, considering the other group of Astartes have clearly up and left you to pick up the pieces yourselves." Elias could have pushed further on the inadequacies of whatever chapter of Iron Hands or their successors had been here, but the line of conversation was clearly making the captain uncomfortable so he held his tongue.
"And… the ship, sir?"
Elias raised his eyebrow, then nodded as he remembered. Yes, there had been reports of a meteoric downpour of detritus on the planet that had later been identified as fragments of a strike cruiser.
"The civilians reported no sightings of either force, correct?"
"No, sir. They stayed in their homes for hours after the combat. Too afraid to leave."
"Then the most likely outcome is the Astartes left on an additional ship in their fleet after the initial one was lost." Elias stroked his chin. "Or…"
"Or?" Esterman swallowed again, then seemed to remember himself. "Sir."
"Or they're still on the island," Elias said. Perhaps this venture wouldn't be so disappointing afterall. A group of traitor Astartes, lurking in the shadows, primed to be routed and exterminated…
Elias shook his head. "You have nothing to worry about, captain. If any Astartes are still on the planet, they're loyalists."
"How can you be sure, sir?" Esterman asked, his expression clearly unconvinced. Elias let out an amused breath through his nose. This man was either growing comfortable or audacious. Elias was beginning to like him.
"The orbiting stations. The Night Lords wouldn't have been able to raid them while being harried. Therefore it would have taken place after the battle. It wasn't their ship that was lost."
Esterman seemed to consider this, tongue roaming around the inside of his cheek, before nodding in acceptance. "Understood. What are our next steps?"
"For you?" Elias placed a hand on the captain's shoulder. He flinched slightly but tried not to show it. "Exactly what you've been doing. Rebuild, provide relief to the populace. I'll send out a warning about the heretics, but that is as far as my duties go here. I have little time or patience for angels camping out in your fields. I'm afraid this was largely a waste of time, captain."
Esterman explored his cheek again, then nodded solemnly. "Sorry to disappoint, Inquisitor."
Elias smiled at the captain and he, miraculously, smiled back. What had been different about that time? Had it been–?
His thoughts were derailed by a sudden buzzing in his brain. Esterman brought a finger up to his microbead and listened, his brow furrowing deeper the more the voice on the other end spoke. Whispers of precognitive senses flowed through Elias's mind. Something was afoot. Something important.
The PDF captain lowered his hand and met Elias's eyes directly. "Sir, there is something that you should see."
Minutes later, Elias and Esterman stood at the mouth of a subterranean transport entrance as a squad of PDF soldiers worked to extract something and display it before them in the daylight. The whispers in Elias's mind had reached a crescendo, causing his skull to ring in a painful timbre. He shunted his psychic senses for the time being, suppressing his abilities so that he could have a moment of relief—even if it left him vulnerable for the time being.
What emerged from the darkness below did not meet his expectations. An artifact or relic left behind by one of the opposing Astartes forces? Certainly. A corpse of one of them that provided additional illumination to prove or disprove his theory? Perhaps. What Elias had not expected was a woman.
Scorched, burnt, and rendered nearly nude by her tattered and smoldered clothes, the woman was lifted out of the tunnel on a stretcher by a pair of PDF men. Her breaths came raggedly and her face was contorted and sweaty. She seemed to be whispering something under his breath. Elias approached and leaned in to listen.
"Sing… Sing for me…" she muttered. That accent… Elias frowned and reached a hand forward to pull her upper lip back, revealing a pair of exaggerated incisors. Fenrisian.
Elias's curiosity was quickly shattered when the sigh passed his lips. The only reason a Fenrisian would be on this world was if she were a cultist to the heretics, or she was a serf and Elias had misjudged which flock of ceramite vultures had flown this way. Regardless, he was disappointed. It would seem his psychic senses had failed him this day, for he had no use for a fanatical servant.
Drawing his plasma pistol, Elias aimed directly at the woman's temple and positioned his finger to fire. At that same moment, her eyes flew open and she shot upright in the stretcher. Several hands met her shoulders and forced her back down, but the woman began to thrash and struggle.
"Off me! Off me!" she howled. Then she looked directly at Elias and her vision seemed… unfocused, as if she were seeing something else entirely—likely a result of shock. She spat at him, the glob of sooty mucus landing directly on the rosette hanging from his uniform jacket. Involuntary gasps rang out around them. "Take it to your grave, you karking tin encrusted oil-licker!"
Elias's finger hovered over the trigger. One pull and it would be over…
He tilted his head to the side and lowered the firearm. "Captain," he said.
"Yes, sir?" Esterman replied.
"Have this one taken to my ship."
The man only hesitated for a moment before nodding and barking out the order. His soldiers quickly moved to listen, toting the woman away. Elias watched as she screamed and fought the entire time.
Yes, Elias had little use for a mewling sycophant. But he could think of quite a few uses for a warrior.