40k RPG; Memoria, Part Secundus

[Cynical Cat]

Raynard rubbed his hands together in anticipation. It was only a matter of time before Zacharus permenently exed out Gix. With him feeding the assassin details on the security around Gix, a workable plan would emerge. But now was not the time for such thing. Nadira awaited.

The lift door slid open. The corridor was softly lit and easy on the eyes. Real wood panellling and deep burgandy carpets gave the it a feeling of serene sensuality. He wasn't the only man to stash a mistress in the building.

He walked over to her door and inserted the key card. With a click the locks opened. He turned the knob and walked in. Everything was as it should be. Plush carbet and comfortabley upholstered furnature in rich earth tones. Soft lighting. Doors leading off to a kitchen, bathroom, and bed chamber. But no Nadira.

She should be here. Maybe she was running late. That did happen but with this business about Gix, he was somewhat on edge. He pulled the laspistol from his belt. "Nadira," he called.

He heard something from the bedroom. He stalked forward, gun ready. He edged along the wall. Something stung him in the neck. He spun.

Nothing. No one in sight. He touched his neck. Blood. The room began to spin. He tried to focus his will. He fell to his knees, his gun slipping from his numb hands. He saw shoes coming towards him from the kitchen. Shoes attached to legs. He tried to focus his will. Failed. The lights dimmed.

Danell Keys watched as the inquisitor lost conciousness. He then walked into the next room and retrieved his noise maker, which was lying next to Trevoli's bound and unconscious mistress. A little patience and he would be able to remove the inquisitor's body in a room service cart.

There was the matter of his conspicious absence, of course. Fortunately, that was being attended to. He was reliably informed that a telepath would be inserting memories in the minds of a number of witnesses that he was inspecting the ship at this time. Too bad for Trevoli. The next little while was going to be very hard on him.

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan Gix and half a ton of life support equipment were clandestinely loaded onto a lifter in the early morning. After waiting until mid-day the flyer headed up into high orbit. Waiting for them was a monument of steel, the power of the Imperium rendered in steel. It was an Overlord class battlecruiser and it could lay waste to a world.

It was sleeker and less baroque than most, resembling more a predatory marine animal than a space going cathedral. It lacked much of the baroque ornamentation designed to draw favor from the Emperor and the Machine God as well as inspire its crew.

A whole sub deck had been sealed off for Gard's use. The physician had the servator's wheel the unconscious inquisitor to a surgical bay preprepaired surgical bay. Naval medicae stood ready to assist.

"Lady, Gentlemen, I am Doctor Gard Vikal. I have been performing augmentic surgery for over a hundred years. This is my most important patient. You will be assisting me in this and in the process you will witness some uncommon, but effective techniques. To be blunt, most facilities do not possess the technos to allow them to be used and they are mostly forgotten as a result."

A grey haired woman step forward "We have heard of your skill doctor and are eager to see you in action. The captain has been most clear on the importance of the patient."

"Excellent," responded Vikal. "We should begin the preperations for surgery. The patient's condition has worsened of late. We cannot offord to delay surgery any further."

"We've been studying the file for the last half hour. Why was the patient not scheduled for surgery earlier?"

"Security concerns as well as the patient's desire for an advanced replacement that required time to grow. Now, if there are now more questions, we should begin."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"Inquisitor, can you hear me?" The voice came out of the darkness.

Gix's throat was dry and raspy. He managed a "yes." A moment. "Water." His eyelids flicked open. "Gard."

"Yes Jolan.' He moved a tube over to his mouth. "Water."

"The operation?" he croaked.

"It seems successful. You're breathing on your own. Can you wiggle your toes?"

Jolan concentrated. "Yes."

"Good. Spinal injuries are always tricky."

"What's the results?"

"Hmm," said Vikal. "Cloned spinal tissue, reinforced spine, synaptic accelerators. Slightly improved reaction time. A new left lung, cloned from your own, with some additional biomech filtration added. And a psi booster implanted in the base of your skull. Should improve the range of your powers."

"Successes?"

"The surgery went perfectly. The augments were of the highest quality. You'll need some time to get used to them."

"Team Status?"

"We have Trevoli. Keys grabbed him and we made it seem he was elsewhere at the time. We've moved you to somewhere safe. A navy ship. Hethor's idea. We borrowed an astropath on the captain's recommendation to plant the false memories, one Iriza Vess. This, of course, makes her a loose end. Keys is watching her-"

Whatever Gard was going to say was cut off by the door opening. A bulldog of a petty officer, his face criss-crossed by scars, entered the room. His uniform was spotless as were the naval pistol and cutlass that hung from the shaft. At tall woman strode through the doorway a moment latter.

She was broad shouldered and strong, with the insignia of a full captain on her uniform. Her blonde hair was cut short and business like and the officer's great coat added to the sense of power around her. She stepped forward, clearly confident of her authority. "Captain, I must insist-"

"On nothing," she finished. Her left eye was augmentic, but only close examination would reveal that or the scar from when she had lost the original. "Welcome aboard the Lord Vonrilyental, Inquisitor Gix."

"Thank you for all your aid, Captain Valin."

"My pleasure Jolan, but I think we can bend protocal enough for you to call me Severa."

[Cynical Cat]

"She's a beautiful ship," Jolan said. They were walking along the observation deck. The armoured shutters were open, displaying the planet Garidia ins a swirl of white, blue, and green beneath them.

"Thank you," Severa replied. "The Abraxis yards do good work. High output reactors, extra turret mountings, additional shield generators, turbo power boosters, advanced targeting matrix, automated torpedo loaders, and stacked cogitator motion tracker network. Everything you would expect from the Martian Yards, maybe a few other worlds could do as well. She's one of the most powerful battlecruisers in the fleet. I was surprised when she was given to me."

"I guess you made an impression."

She smiled. "I guess I did. It was still a surprise. My last posting was commanding the frigate Vigilance. And then I get the Vonrilyental. There was more than a little envy going around. A rumour went around that I wasn't 'man' enough to command a battlecruiser, let alone the Lord."

Jolan laughed.

"It's true. But I got the Lord. And an executive officer who though he should have the captain's seat and a commissar who agreed with him. Oh, and a rumour that I got the job by sleeping with the Admiral."

"Sounds challenging."

She shrugged. "Serving under corrupt superiors who wanted to break me was tough. Fighting Black Legionaires hand to hand was tough. These guys were easy. I brought some rankers and junior officers with me to have a solid core of support. They spread rumours of their own and I put on a few displays on the practice floor. Then came the Battle of the Far Breakers and everyone shut up. Smooth sailing since then. And you?"

"Inquisition business. Some of my colleagues object to how I'm encouraging technological and scientific growth. They fear that the balance of power in the Imperium could be disrupted. Their fears aren't groundless. For the time being the Adeptus Mechanicus is essential for the survival of the Imperium and they guard their secrets jealously. My cunning plans and assurances didn't reassure them. They reacted. Violently."

"I see," she said. "What now?"

"There's an assassin running around down there who I'm unlikely to find and who is prepared to wait as long as necessary to finish the job."

"Sounds tough. Do you have a plan?"

"Yes. Leave."

"Leave." She looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face for a moment. Then it cleared as understanding dawned. "Ahh. He has to come after you for another shot. Sorting through a population of travellers is much easier than trying to sort through the population of a civilized world. It even opens up the possibility of laying traps. Very clever. That's the Gix I remember."

"Thank you," he replied. "I'm going to have to keep Vess, the astropath. She knows too much. She was very helpful."

"I thought you might. I can think of worse things than being a companion to Jolan Gix." She was smiling.

"I'm glad." He looked at the window. "I'll have to be going soon. I'm glad we had this time." The were silent for a moment. "Is it everything you expected to be?"

She smiled. "No, but I still love it. I got a recording from my father a couple months ago. He was so proud."

"Good. And you?"

She shrugged. "Being captain is like being an inquisitor. Duty is your master. After the Emperor and the ship, everything else is a distant third. But I knew that coming in. And there is nothing like ruling from the command deck."

He nodded. "I can imagine. I'm glad things have worked out for you."

"Don't start getting soft on me. We aren't star crossed lovers from one of my sister's romances."

He nodded. "True. Now if the intrepid captain could do me one last favor before resuming her regular duties, I would be ever so grateful."

She smiled fiercely. "Name it."

[Pcm979]

Gyllia Xyng might not be the first to spring to mind for the leading role in a covert operation, but what seemed like disadvantages at first could easily be transformed into assets. Since her complete overhaul on Adraxis, her augmetics could quite easily pass for normal, apart from a slight glow in the backs of her eyes. Her mechadendrites, concealed under a massive, flowing dress, were the perfect tools for infiltrating a space station's cogitator network. And thanks to her position as an Imperial noble's emmisary, who was expecting to spend a great deal of money on the border planet, she had virtually unrestricted access to the entire station.

Having dismissed Quambur and returned to the Concorde, she shrugged off her unwieldly silk and ermine Train, which had been concealing her mechadendrites, and locked them into the recieving ports of the ship's cogitator. She closed her eyes and shuddered with pleasure as she established a connection with the ship's machine god-

No, there was no machine god, no divine presence that drove the Imperium's technology. She had to force herself to remember that.

The information finished transferring, and the shrugged the Mechadendrites free.

"Cogitator. Collate data."

A mechanical voice piped from a brass speaking-tube mounted on the cabin ceiling. "Working. Estimated time: One. Hour. And. Twenty. Minutes."

Gyllia turned away, satistied, and-

Gutug scissored his power swords, slicing her in two at the waist. Her upper body fell, sparks flying from her midesction. Her augmented legs staggered aimlessly across the room.

"So. You aren't a noble after all. Gods damn it, I'm going to have to apologise to Haergli." The brute grunted. He stomped on her chest, and grinned as he heard the satisfying screech of tortured metal.

"You'll live through this, tin girl, if you tell me who else is on this boat. Now."

Gyllia's voicebox rasped harshly, and she stared glassily behind the man. He knealt down, grinding he knee into her sternum.

"Don't play dumb with me. They built you freaks to last."

"One." Gyllia rasped.

"Where?"

"Behind you." Lillith growled.

Gutug spun to his feet, and just managed to deflect a blow from Longinus. Lillith stepped back, and twirled the pike in an intricate figure eight.

"Come on." Said the girl, flatly.

Gutug laughed. "A slip of a girl. Tell me girl, why shouldn't I gut your mistress and finish you later?"

Lillith stared at him implacably. "You would be ignoring the pertinent threat to excecute an immoblie target, leaving yourself open to attack. As I am bound to protect my mistress, her death would leave me no course of action but to end your life through any possible means, including my own death. As it is, I am restricted by my obligation to safeguard her life. By killing her you would weigh the odds in favour of your defeat."

Gutug blinked. Who the hell talks like that? Especially at her age. Never mind. "Die, girl." He charged.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pater's interrogation of the Xeno was brutal, but effective. He rampaged through the Tau's mind like a bull in a china shop, ripping the information he desired out and discarding the rest. The creature's bowels vented after a minute, as the young Inquisitor tore it's long term memory out. After two, it threw up a mixture of blood and bile as black blood leaked from its' eyes and ears. After three, it's brain had literally forgotten how to breath, and the Xenos collapsed against the wall, dead.

Pater filtered through the information. Two lookouts, one in a booth across the room, the other at the bar. He voxed Niner in his homegrown code. "Gemini ascendant, octave nominal. Catachan peeled, white 83 stale. Confirm."

Niner peered up from his drink and located the lookouts. He could take them both easily, if it came to that. But it didn't look like it would.

"Flowers boxed."

Pater nodded to himself. "Cross theta." Standard extraction pattern. He retrieved the bottle and switched the privacy field off, nonchalantly stolling out of the booth. With a mental jolt he switched it back on before anyone could notice something was wrong.

Niner caught his eye and slipped out of the bar, heading towards the distant service elevator at a slow pace. Pater drew level with the assassain.

"We're done here. Tell Gyllia to expect us momentarily."

Niner nodded and thumbed his vox, his jaw working as he subvocalised to the Concorde. He frowned.

"Is something wrong, Niner?"

"No response, sir."

"She isn't there?"

"No sir, I mean I can't contact the Concorde at all."

Pater was about to reply when a word suddenly flashed through his mind: DOWN! He threw Niner to the floor just as a lasbolt cracked over their heads and blew a chunk out of the wall.

Niner rolled behind a support beam and drew a pair of Hellpistols in one swift move. Pater did likewise, smasing the bottle against the wall to make an improvised weapon, extending mental feelers to assess the situation.

Shit. "There's 10 of them, and our pals from the bar."

Niner cursed as he fired a volley of bolts and ducked behind the pillar again. "How did they get reinforcements so quickly?"

Pater honestly didn't have a clue.

[Cynical Cat]

Gix strode down the corridor of the registered trader Sadine. She wasn't a particularily fast ship, but she was a reliable one. She had a regular route, including navy supply contracts, and a good reputation. Gix and his retinue had been shuttled around disguised as standard navy business before they had ended up here. Navy spacers would take his ship world hopping, before leaving it a carefully chosen place. If everything worked according to plan, the assassin would be neutralized. Gix was not optimistic about that.

He touched the door buzzer. A moment latter it slid open revealing a neat and modest cabin. A diminutive dark haired woman one hundred fifty centimeters tall bowed to him. "Inquisitor. How may I serve?"

She was bail with shoulder length black hair. She was slender and doll like, but her eyes ruined the image. They were cold and unfeeling augmentic lenses. The soul binding ritual that protected her from many of the dangers of the warp had destroyed her optic nerves.

"We haven't really talked much," said Jolan Gix. "I thought we should rectify that."

She bowed. "Of course Inquisitor. Won't you come in?" She sat down on her bed and gestured for Jolan to take use the rooms one chair.

"You've been very helpful Iriza. I'm sorry that I've disrupted your life, but not sorry to have access to your services."

She nodded. "I understand inquisitor. You do what you have to. We all do. No one who undergoes the soul binding should be blind to that. No pun intended." There was the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Thank you anyway. I've need of an astropath as well as a skilled telepath, so I'm going to have to hang on to you. But I don't want to make you life any more difficult."

She nodded. "Thank you for the consideration inquisitor, but the lot of an astropath is to provide perfect service not to serve oneself. I've tried to accept that."

"In an ideal galaxy," Jolan said, "those who serve well and faithfully should be well rewarded for their sacrifices."

"We do not live in such a galaxy inquisitor," she replied.

"I am an inquisitor and a member of the human race. It is my duty to build the foundations of such a galaxy. For those around me, as much as it is possible, we shall exist in perfection. The loyal protected, the guilty punished, and the righteous enjoying the fruits of victory."

"A tall order inquisitor."

"Yes. I'll need a lot of help. Care to assist?"

"I'll be delighted to," she responded.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The astropathic message had been sent to Garidia and then picked up when Vess had checked in with the Officio. Gix studdied the message and then switched ships, taking births with a squadron of Cobra class destroyers due to swing through the Tristram system.

The navy wasn't happy to recieve him, but the prospect of only being briefly host to an inquisitor did stir them into action. The completed the journey in near record time and Gix was striding through the Officio Inquisitorium palace-fortress in the city of Respite on Tristram. Energy screens and force curtains sealed off vast areas of the palace. Inquisitorial armsmen and enforcers were stationed almost everywhere.

The interrogator lead Gix into an observation chamber and withdrew. A squat dark woman and a big, powerfully built dark haired man waited within. The man wore a neat beard and gilded carapace armour over burgundy flak. The woman wore dark robes. Her voice was husky and strong. "Inquisitor Jolan Gix, I pressume."

"Yes, my lady."

"I am High Inquisitor Ydressa Sevaine of the Ordo Hereticus. My colleague here is Inquisitor Harad. He was the one who was initially assigned to this case."

Harad smiled and extended his arm. "It's been too long."

Jolan clasped his hand. "That's true. Nothing since we graduated to become interrogators. Why did you call me in?"

"What she said," responded Harad. He pointed at the room on the other side. "If its true we've got a huge problem and you have a score to settle."

Gix looked through the one way mirror. The woman on the other side was simply dressed, if flattering black silks could be called simple. She was gorgeous, with golden skin and long ebony hair. Her figure was full and perfect. Her eyes were slightly slanted and a startling blue. "Who is she?" he asked.

"Melina Sevall, of High House Sevall. Rich, powerful, connected," said Ydressa.

"She seems to be in good health for someone we're interviewing," Jolan mused.

"That's because she turned her self in."

"She turned herself into the Inquisition?" The idea was fabulous, like pink oliphantoids dancing on water.

"Yes," Ydressa replied. "She turned herself and her entire cult in. She named names. Lots of names. Members of the High Houses and the Ruling Families. The Chief Judge and the Lord Protector. We probed her with telepaths and under chem treatment. They confirmed her story, strange as it is."

"What kind of cult?" Jolan asked.

"Slaanesh," responded Harad.

"There has to be some kind of trick. One might turn oneself in for some kind of xenos emulator or heterodox activity, but Chaos worship?"

"Our thoughts as well," said Harad. "And we didn't want to veg her by pushing too hard. Not now that we have some preliminary confirmation of some of her claims."

"So why ask for me?"

"You've been involved in taking out a planetary government before and running the damn thing for a while. Useful knowledge. And one of the names she mentioned is known to you."

"Who?"

"The Psy King."

[Lord Stormbringer]

"For the glory of the God-Emperor," he replied, before turning away.

He proceeded back to Varian's office, pressing the doorvox to request entry.

"Enter."


Ristani entered into a room dimly lit, the only source of light was a glow-globe located on the Inquisitors desk. Behind it he was reading a heavy book bound in red leather the color of dried blood. He motioned for the Interogator to sit.

After he did Varian pushed the book towards him.

"Commodus Voke's Commentaries on the Means and Methods of the Inquisition. A most illuminated volume of work, I highly recommend it. It's a shame that he's been relegated to obscurity by the likes of the heretic Eisenhorn and that radical trash Ravenor. It contains a good deal of more worthy sentiment." Varian leaned back in his chair.

"Enough literature. I assume you have overseen your duties. Now we must discuss the mission."

[Josh]

He nodded. "Cargo handling equipment was damaged during the loading process, which will delay the loading of the unit's Rhino APCs by approximately seven hours. Current projected readiness is 2100 hours tomorrow."

He awaited word of the mission.

[Cynical Cat]

In person the woman was even more devestatingly attractive. It hit Jolan with almost physical force as he stepped into the room. Her face was flawless, symmetrical perfection. Her ebony hair was so silky it seemed to shine. His whole body was enflamed.

He sat down opposite her. Personal discipline was pounded into inquisitors. "Your phermome levels are rather high," Jolan said in an artificially calm voice. "You might want to reduce them."

"Nerves," she replied. "I've just signed my own death warrant. I'm entitled to be nervous, don't you think? Can I have a lho-stick?"

"Not many people turn themselves in to the Inquisition and confess to crimes where the punishment is death. It has my colleagues concerned."

"I noticed," she replied. "You make inquisitor number three. I've been under drugs and psi scan. My answers haven't changed and you've had the opportunity to look. So when are you big bad inquisitors going to decide that maybe I'm telling the truth?"

"Why did you decide to tell the truth?"

She shrugged. "There are some things that go beyond-." She hesistated. "I wanted to escape. I walked into their arms expecting oblivion. They showed me hell instead."

Jolan nodded. "Morals. Who would have guessed. Have trouble sleeping?"

"Not as long as I have pill or injection wands."

"How much of you is artificial?"

She laughed. "What isn't would be the shorter answer. Does it matter?"

"It doesn't seem to have made you happy."

"That was never the point. And if you aren't going to give me a lho-stick are you at least going to shoot me?"

"You seem unusualy eager to die."

"You seem unusualy reluctant to kill."

"I like to know what I'm walking into. Gift wrapped presents of powerful heretics make my ambush suspicions all tingly."

She laughed. "I don't do those kind of ambushes."

"And what kind of ambushes do you do Melina Sevall?'

"I make important people like. Want me. Want to please me to get me."

"Which means doing favors for Sevall." He was silent for a moment. "When did you have your first operation?"

"Six," she replied. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"What's your position in the line of inheritence?"

"Far, far away from those who matter."

Jolan nodded. "How many operations?"

She turned away. "I can't remember."

"Let me guess," said Gix. "Long bones remolded, cheek and jaw, skin treatments, the lust phermones, the like me phermones, the hair, metabolic alterations, and of course custom grown eyes."

"Half right," she replied. "The skin was cultured in vat from my genetic material. I had terrible rashes as a child. It was surgically grafted as a replacement."

Gix's eyes widened slightly. "Your parents had you surgically flayed."

"Oh yes. Anesthetics and surgens and all that. That's nothing." He voice was falsely cheerful. "One of my maids Timia, well my mother liked her eyes. So she called her a thief, had her convicted, and broken down for parts. And I got her eyes."

"How many overdoses?"

"Only the one. I have another and live it'll be psychosurgery. I don't have to be smart or even me. Just have certain behaviors and be compliant."

"No jumping from tall buildings?"

"Too much of a coward," she replied.

"So sex and drugs too make the pain go away. Oblivion. Except you found out that that path can lead to something else."

"I grew up around evil. What they are, what they do, is worse." She hugged herself.

"So you turned yourself in. Expecting death and trying to take them with you."

"Yes. I'm a heretic. I'm not loyal to the Emperor or the gods-rotted Imperium. I've told you everything. I've named names. I've told you why. Now shoot me."

"No."

"No?"

"I have a use for you," Jolan Gix said. "One which will put your hedonistic, corrupt, crimminal existence to good use."

She laughed. He was high and ragged. "That's rich. What possible use could you have for me?"

"You're going to help me get the Psy King and end him."

"What makes you think I'll be any good to you? What makes you think I'll even help?"

"You'll help because there is enough of a woman left inside of you that hates her corrupt existance and knows that they are worse. You'll help because you want to bring them down enough that you turned yourself in knowing you would probably be tortured. You'll help because you want them dead and are willing to burn to see them go down."

She closed her eyes. Jolan Gix had an idea what she saw in her head. The vices that the followers of Slaanesh could devise were horrible beyond belief. Enough to disgust this tranquilized and jaded member of Tristram's nobility into action. "Alright inquisitor. I'll do what you want."

[Cynical Cat]

"Interesting interview," said Harad. "Not exactly an orthodox technique."

"Asking direct questions?" Gix responded. He gestured over at the two way mirror to the interrogation room. "She wanted to get that weight of her chest. All we had to do is ask her in the right way."

"Still the same sly Jolan Gix."

Jolan shrugged. "It works. By the way, can you kick her into my custody?"

Harad stared. "Well we were going to-," he raised his hand an mimed firing a pistol.

"Wasteful," replied Gix.

"She's a heretic."

Jolan shook his head. "No, she isn't. She turned them in, disgusted once she knew the truth, even expecting a bullet in the head."

"Point," Harad conceded. "But we can't let her go. She's been touched by Chaos."

"Half the Inquisition has been touched with Chaos, my friend. How many obscene texts and rituals have you seen? Necking her for one isn't necessary, if we can find a good use for her."

"Alright." Harad stopped. "You have a plan."

"Of course I have a plan."

"It involves her. You think you need her for it. You want this Psy King bad."

Gix nodded. "Last time he showed up, tens of thousands died. He beat, straight out, in psychic combat. He wasn't just more powerful, he was better. Than me. I barely beat him the last time and I did everything to take away his weapons and stack the deck in my favor. And know he's back."

"You think you can use her?"

"I took a reading."

Harad raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. As I recall those were only somewhat reliable."

"I've gotten better," replied Gix and threw a card from the Emperor's Tarot on the table. It showed a picture of a dark haired girl-child wearing a smudged white robe and crying tears of blood. The face was unmistakibly that of Melina.

"The Orphan." Harad looked up. "You trust this?"

"And my evaluation of her. She's not suicidal or hedonistic. She wants out. And since no one was going to rescue her from House Sevall . . . . "

"She drinks and snorts and shoots and fucks her brain into oblivion. And the Slaaneshi see this and think they have a convert. And then they show her that Sevall's are pikers when it comes to evil and excess."

"Exactly," Gix responded. "Appearances deceive. Nurgle would have had a better chance with her than Slaanesh. But now her eyes are open."

"Alright," said Harad. "For the sake of argument she's reliable enough to be used. And she'll go along with it instead of being necked. What's the plan?"

"Conviently, hedonistic substence abusers often drop out of sight for days at a time. Her absence isn't particularily noteworthy."

"Unless they were watching her."

"They were, but then there's the problem with watching a major House."

"Which means they're fucked. Go on, this is actually beginning to sound like something that might work. Show me some of that Gix sneakiness."

"She's the second part of the plan. The first part is the full Inquisition purge."

"What! And tip our hand when they have the Head of the Arbites and the Commanding General of the PDF as part of their cult?"

"Not against them, of course. Against the foul xenophile cult scum of the slums."

"What xenophile cult?"

Gix smiled like a shark. "The one we invent, of course."

[Cynical Cat]

Melina looked up and cracked a half smile as Gix came back into the room. "Back so soon?"

Jolan sat down. She had a nice smile. "Yes. Do you want to live?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that a joke or a fancy new Inquisition torture?"

"I'm serious," he replied. "Do you want to live? Away from here, away from the power of House Sevall, doing something that might quiet some of the nightmares you have?"

"Are you making me an offer?"

"Yes."

"Do you really know the reach of House Sevall?"

"No, but that's the point. Outside this system, it isn't much. And inside this system the Inquisition is still stronger."

"Why?"

"You'll be useful, I think. And I want your help."

"You could just order me to do whatever you want."

"Sure I can. That doesn't mean you'll do it well or to my satisfaction. That doesn't mean instead of a plea for help suicide attempt you really decide to try sky diving. No, I think you'll do a much better job with some incentive."

"And what guarr-"

"You don't. You could do what I want and I could still order you raped to death. Nothing I sign or say or promise will bind me to keep my word to you. That's the nature of the Inquisition. We're above that. But I can give you these words. I think you can help, with regard to this matter and others in the future. I think what you saw revolted, not attracted you. You know too much, I can't let you go free. But I can take you with me. I don't want to kill anyone I don't have to."

"Alright," she said. "I'll do what you want."

"Not good enough," he said harshly.

She looked at him fiercely. "Tell me what I have to do."

Jolan smiled. "Tell me about the Psy King."

She sat back. "It was the big party where I was brought in. There were a lot of altered there. Some of their alterations were clearly sexual. They were blatant. And then the entertainment began. There was a pit-" she choked up.

"Skip that part," Gix said. "I can guess."

She was shaking. "Oh Emperor, I wish I could forget what I saw. Those children, what they did-" She stopped for a moment, breathing hard. She shuddered and then straightened. "There were guests. Important people. I recognized their faces. They had attendents. They were blatant in what they did." She swallowed.

"I was introduced to powerful people. It was clear that there was no one who could help me if I tried to break away. They didn't even consider the Inquisition anything but a joke. They controlled the PDF and the Arbites. They acted like they already owned the planet, as if all they had to do was go down to the shop and pick up there order. If I hadn't been a Sevall, if I hadn't been useful-"

"You would have been in that pit," Jolan finished. "Tell me about the Psy King."

"He was there. One of the people they introduced me too. He wasn't taking part. They treated him like an important ambassador or something. He was a little shorter than you are and slim. Red hair and eyes that shifted colour. He wore plain black. He acted like he was the biggest shot in the room."

"That's him alright, although the body has changed. Did he steal it or have it custom grown? No matter." He waved the issue aside as he saw Melina's eyes widen. "Let's talk about you. I assume you go on regular binges of indulging in whatever it is you're drinking, fucking, or shooting into your veins?"

"Yes," she replied in a small voice.

"Are any of these orgies of excess fairly private?"

"Yes."

"Good. I assume that these enjoy the protection of the rather paranoid workings of House Sevall's security force?"

"Yes."

"So the odds are the cultists don't know you've come here and don't know where you are and that you've been drugging yourself into a stuppor is a suitable story for anyone who wants to know?"

"Yes." Her eyes widened. "You're sending me back in."

"Not yet. But yes. If you can help me get the drop on the Psy King and the rest of this slime, you will have your forgiveness."

[Cynical Cat]

Tolesan Sevall looked up from his desk as his door slid open. He had given explicit instructions not to be disturbed. It was not wise to disobey the third in line to inherit the leadership of House Sevall. Melina walked in, followed by two men he didn't recognize. "What is the meaning of this cousin?" he asked mildly. You stupid cow.

"Your assistance is required," said one of the men, the darker one. He tossed something on the desk. An inquisition rosette. Tolesan looked down and then up again.

"House Sevall is-"

"Shut up," said the dark man as he picked up the rosette. "Come with us. Danell, make sure the way is clear."

The other man nodded and left. The dark man sat down at Tolesan's desk and started typing. "What are you-"

"I told you to shut up," replied the dark man. He looked up at Melina. "Those two are his regular guards?"

"Yes," she replied. Tolesan glared daggers at her, but she ignored him.

"Good."

"Danell, take us out."

"Your will."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The powerful form of the Chief Judge leaned back. "Xenophile cultists?"

"Yes," responded Harad. "We need additional troops from the Adeptus Arbites and Planetary Defence Forces to sweep the slum areas where they are hiding. We have to sieze them and find out how far they've spread immediately."

"Of course the Arbites will do their duty inquisitor. Take as many Arbiters as you need."

Harad smiled. He was still the big, personable man he had been in training, despite having carried out the grim duties on an inquisitor for decades. "Thank you Chief Judge. I knew you would be of assistance."

With that Harad left the Chief Judge's office high in courthouse-fortress. Battalions of Arbiters were assembling for duty. They wore carapace armour over their armoured black bodygloves and were armed with a variety of weapons. Bolt pistols, combats shotguns, lasguns, grenade launchers, shock mauls, heavy stubbers, supression shields, webbers, large calibre pistols, and flamers were common. Armoured transports and urban fighting vehicles waited to deploy them and combat flyers were poised to take to the air.

Harad stopped in front of them. He knew at the same time that Jolan Gix was disappearing a high ranking Sevall, thus allowing Melina to get a meeting the cult higher ups about bringing him 'in' and Ydressa was securing PDF troops to establish a perimeter. Lots of people would be moving through the streets. Gix's plan called for some mayhem as a distraction, but that didn't bother Harad. The slum could use a forceful purge of some of its more disgusting crimminals.

He sure as hell hoped Gix knew what he was doing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Planterary Defence Force Troopers rolled through the streets. The set up barricades and road blocks, isolating the slums. Arbites troop carriers unleashed a squads of heavily armed troops that began to systematically storm through the tall and decrepit slum towers.

Jolan Gix turned away from a holo display. "So, the show is on. We have our 'reserves' ready to spring into action and do the real work."

"If you plan works," said High Inquisitor Sevaine.

"If it doesn't we've still gotten all the ready troops in the region under our direct control. That's a good fall back position."

An Inquisition armsman in burgundy and gold saluted. His face was obscured by his helment, but he wore the insignia of a colonel. "Strike teams are in position. We'll be ready to move in on all targets and their entourages the moment you give the word."

"Very good colonel,' replied Ydressa. "Your move, Inquisitor Gix. Let's hope your agent comes through."

[Cynical Cat]

Melina entered the key code into the pic set. A moment latter the pic screen displayed the word "connecting" and then it showed a picture of the Illustrious Prince Hash Vandersal. "Melina," he smiled weakly, "what a pleasure."

"I'm sure," she purred. "I was just wondering when you're going to have another of your wonderful parties."

"Um soon," he replied distractidly.

"Well, I kind of promised my cousin Tolesan that I could take him some place really spectacular. Naturally, I ment your party."

"Tolesan? He's interested?" She had his full attention now.

"Why yes. Didn't I say? But if you aren't going to have one, then I'll have to think of something else. A pity. He was interested in being among all the best people and I so built up his expectations about what was going on. Oh well."

"Wait!" Hash cried. "We uh, I mean I can schedule one soon, if it would mean so much to your cousin. We would be delighted to have more members of House Sevall among us."

"Excellent!" She smiled and clapped her hands together. "Thank you!"

"I'll have a man sent around with the invitations."

"Wonderful. You're my savior." She batted her eyes and the screen went dark. She clicked a button. "Well, they really did want me for access to my family."

"Yes," said Gix. The inquisitor was standing behind the pic screen. "But they would have found other uses for you as well. I doubt you would have been willing to debase yourself to the level necessary to become a luminary in the cult. After they had used you up you would have become one of its victims."

She shuddred. "Now what?"

"We continue to make life miserable for those poor unfortunates in the slums. Hopefully we'll remove a large number of crimminals and parasites in the process. I wouldn't even be surprised if we found a real cult in there. Let the Slaaneshi get comfortable with all the activity. They throw their party. We crash it while targetting decapitation strikes at every other known member. The cult collapses, the Inquisition takes control, and we burn them out."

"And things go back to the way they were," she said saddly.

"No. We build it back better."

"You say that like you mean it."

"It can be done. It has been done. It will be done." Gix's tone invited no dissent.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arbites Rhinos patrolled the streets. The rich and powerful were not to be disturbed by xenos cultists or the rioting touched off by the Inquisition purge. As always, the powers that be took care of its own. Or so they thought.

The armoured stretch limosine bearing the Sevall crest was let through the gates around Vandershal's town house. As a cadet branch of the ruling family, the Vandershals were permitted to own homes near the commander's palace. Over the millenia such favors had been granted many times and space was at a premium. The town houses grew up rather than sprawled sideways and had little room for courtyards or parking.

So the limosine parked at the curb and the driver stepped back to open the door. Melina Sevall, a masked man about her height wearing fabolous black silks, and a huge brute wearing Sevall livery exited the vehicle. The liveried guards nodded respectfully. She was expected and late beyond the standard that was fashionable.

The limosine wasn't leaving, which was odd. The Royal Sector had a building dedicated to parking and was walled off from the rest of the city. Visitors sent their vehicles there and recalled them when they wished to leave. So why wasn't the limo leaving?

The masked man tossed something forward and a haywire burst fried monitoring and coms equipment. Less than a second latter the footmen's brains blew out the back of their skulls. Inquisition snipers on a roof two hundred meters away tracked for new targets. The Rhinos stopped and opened their ramps. Inquisition armsmen, Sororitas, and Abrites poured toward the house.

The armsman by Melina escorted her back, pistol drawn. Keys waited, grinning behind his mask as two huge figures exited the limo. One was Hethor D'eckor in full battle armour with an armature mounted drum fed cannon at the ready. The other was Jolan Gix is matte black power armour with the Inquisition's symbol marked in gold.

The troops had only been informed of their true mission minutes ago. There had been no time for leaks. Inquisition lead strike teams were acting simultaneously all over the planet. The hammer of the Emperor's wrath was descending.

A servant gasped as dark armoured Inquisition stormtroopers charged down the hall. Hellguns struck her in the hip, abdomen, and chest. The water in her tissues flash vapourized and both pieces of her body were propelled backwards in a mist of blood. Maps of the nameless target had been distributed and studied. The killers knew exactly where to go.

The descended to the basement with the Arbites right behind them. The area was littered with storage boxes, but a clear path lead to a door guarded by a pair of guards in scarlett and gold They gunned down the surprised staff before they could react. The liveried bodies slumped. The stormtroopers waited for ten seconds as Arbites came down the stairs behind them and then opened the armoured door. A long stairway was revealed. Grenades bounced down the steps, followed closely by Arbiters with bolt pistols and charged supression shields. Loud, hypnotic music and screams came from the area below.

The grenades detonated in a series of lound bangs, spraying the area with shrapnel. The Arbiters stormed forward. A vast room was revealed. A sunken pit in the middle dominated the room. Above it was a raised dias attached to the ceiling. Sections of the room were partially obscured by silke curtains. Directley ahead luminaries lounged on a mound of pillows.

What was occuring on the dias and within the pit would haunt hardened Arbiters for the rest of their days. Men who had seen the rat gnawed corpses of children, women who had raped and brutalized and passed around from gang to gang, and men broken on the autorack were appalled. Some hesitated in horror.

An explosive round decapitated a monstrous mutant that was raping three prepubescent children simultaneous on the dias. Bolt pistols roared. A grenade launcher was leveled.

The Arbiter the the grenade launcher slid to the floor with his eyes glazed. The two with the supression shields fell screaming, clawing at their eyes. The servants of dread Chaos were not without resources.

Some of the cultists had begun to realize, despite their drugged stooper, that they were in danger. The struggled up to run or to hide. Combat shotguns opened up with executioner rounds. Hellguns fired bolt after bolt into the crowd. A few armed cultists fired back. They succeeded in attracting murderous retalitory fire.

A stormtrooper staggered and suddenly turned on his comrades. A sustained blast of from his plasma gun turned two others into char. A crimson hellgun blast took him in the neck and he dropped. A wave of blew fire passed over the Arbiters and left nothing but ash.

A white flashed ate part of the ceiling. It was a four meter drop to the floor. Two Sororitas plunged down. One had a flamer, the other a bolter. The started killing. Heretics became screaming torches or were blown apart. They advanced and two more sisters of battle descended. As the boots of the second pair of sisters touched the floor Jolan Gix, Harad, and Hethor D'eckor descended the stairs.

The Psyking cursed. He recognized Gix's mind flavor and that did not worry him but the psyker in the gold armour was even stronger than Gix. The priestess of Slaanesh beside him quivered. The other psyker was already striking telepathicly. More troops were coming all the time and all of them had recieved conditioning which made them damned hard to take over.

Time to throw in the losing hand. Gix was clever, for an Imperial, the Psyking would give him that. He had hopes of using the Slaaneshi to serve Tzeentch's interests but that was clearly not to be. It was going to be hard enough to just get out alive. The Psyking directed his pets forward while he made for the bolt hole behind the cushions. An executioner round swerved away from him and two hellgun blasts disipated into bursts of light. Blessed was he who walked the path of the Changer of the Ways.

He tore down the tapestry and slid open the door. Easy enough. When he managed to get free of this rock he was going to half to do something about those surviving inquisitors from Adraxis. Sending Jolan Gix the way of Nathan Talstrem and sending Pater Novum to meet his late mentor had just been made priorities.

Four robe acolytes had been standing next to the Psyking and other dignitaries. They still stood, despite two of them having been sprayed with shrapnel and another being hit twice with hellgun fire. They tore off their robes and sprung forward. Behind them the Slaaneshi priestess writhed on the ground, blood pouring from her ears, mouth, nostrils and eyes. She had lost her battle against Inquisitor Harad.

Their forms were covered in charms and branded runes. Their eyes glowed with green fire. Fingers were tipped with claws, bodies armoured in scales and distorted plates of bones. They were hosts to soldier daemons and tightly bound.

The lead daemonhost reached the first battle sister. Promethium had set it alight and bolters rounds had cratered its unnatural tough flesh. It's claws tore through ceramite armour and gouged out her throat. She fell, her combat knife buried in the daemon's guts.

It stepped forward to slay the next sister. She pointed the bulky meltagun in her hands at its chest and pulled the trigger. An white hot blast reduced the daemonhost to ash and smoking bones. The rest fell on the battle sisters.

Bolters fired and chainswords hacked. Warp reinforced flesh parted and bled. They clawed through ceramite and merely mortal flesh. Gouged, bloody, and battered they slew. The tossed body parts of the slain at the Imperials and howled. If the Sororitas could not stand against them, what chance did the others have?

A lance of blue-white flame struck the lead daemon. Ash was blasted away from shrivelled sticks of bone and as the flames burned the flesh and the daemon's spirit. It howled as Jolan Gix obliterated it. The other two lunged forward to seize and kill the inquisitor.

Hethor's cannon fired. Large calibre silver slugs, inscribed with runes of anathema and blessed in an Imperial cathedral, tore through the daemonhosts as if they were mortal. The burst tore them almost in half. White fire blazed from the bullet holes. Hethor lowered the gun and fired again as Gix propelled himself across the room with a surge of telekinetic force.

He ran through the concealed corridor. The Psyking was just ahead, he could feel his presence. "No more escapes! This time I will end you!"

The Psyking turned, wrapped in a corona of pink fire and blue mist. His current body was slim, red haired, and devilishly handsome. He was clad in dark blue silks. "Do you think so Gix? Remember these?" He held up a small glass orb that swirled with the light of a dozen stolen souls. He crushed it and the power flowed into him. His eyes blazed silver. "Now, who will be needing to escape from whom, I wonder?"

[Cynical Cat]

The first time he had fough Gix, he had easily overwhelmed the inquisitor. The last time he had faced off against Gix it had been very different. The energy of his soul traps had been depleted, Gix had given himself a dose of spook to boost his powers, and a wild psyker had been there to support Gix. Of course, he had also had his force rod then. His body had burned and his soul forced to flee. It wouldn't be the case this time.

He probed the probabilities. He couldn't read those around Gix. The inquisitor had obviously learned new tricks. Previously he had been able to see the flows and patterns of Gix's attacks before he launched them. Parrying and syphoning the power from Gix's attacks had been easy. Now it was like trying to see through mud.

He attacked, aggressive as always. An intense lance of warp fire, even stronger than he remembered and more tightly focused to blaze through sheilds. A telekentic hammer blow followed a moment behind in its wake. He countered the flame lance, dispersing it's killing force behind through the corridor. It was far from easy. The hammer blow knocked him back a step. Gix was already readying an additional attack. One had to give the inquisitor credit. He was an champion at this kind of fight.

But he wasn't strong enough to win, even with the dosage of spook that was undoubtedly flowing through his veins. A wave of blue flame flew down the corridor at Gix. It broke apart around him as the inquisitor began to syphon away the Psyking's own strength. Where had he picked up that trick? The Psyking disrupted the syphon with a sharp thrust of warp power and sent streamers of pastel colour at Gix.

The streamers dissolved goughes walls where the brushed against them. Gix smashed them into motes of colour which flashed against his conversion shield and ate little holes in the walls, floor, and ceiling. In the warp a spike covered leach of pure malice erupted from Gix and sped through the towards the Psyking.

Gix had been a complete tyro on the mental plane, barely able to do much more than guard himself. Now his creation was boring into the Psyking's defences to ravages his brain. A psychic scream of pure rage shredded the spikey black leach. Gix was strong and fast and only had to hold him here until more Imperial's came. He had to drop the inquisitor now.

Bolts of green witch fire flashed down the corridor from Gix's force rod. The Psyking didn't try to counter. They smashed into his wardings, burning them up. Heat leaked through, scorching his flesh. He gritted his teeth and retaliated.

A wave of royal blue and scarlett blades of telekinetic force flashed towards Gix and he seized the air around Gix and filled it with pink fire. A halo of light surrounded the inquisitor as his counter bled away energy and his conversion field transmuted deadly warp power into harmless light bursts. Some of the killing power got through but Gix's power armour saved him fom it. Gix managed to deflect most of the blades, although several hits scarred his armour. A massive force lance followed up.

Gix couldn't block it. It smashed through his defences and sent the inquisitor reeling as the discharge of forces cracked the walls and ceiling. The Psyking sent spikes of hatred to assail Gix's mind. Gix cried out and the force rod dropped from his hand. The Psyking struck.

Not at Gix who's defences were still holding and he was protected by power armour and a conversion field. At the ceiling above him. Thunder filled the corridor as an avalanche of rubble buried the inquistior.

The Psyking smiled as Gix's force rod floated into his hand. Only fair that the inquisitor's replace the one he had cost him after all. Too bad the rubble protected Gix as much as it pinned him and that he didn't have the time to spend finishing off the inquisitor. At least the rubble filled section of the corridor would obstruct further pursuit.

The Psyking smiled as he turned back around. A short jog to the concealed exit and then he would be able to reach his bolt holes and place his contingencies in motion. He would escape and work Tzeentch's will again.

The current passed through the warp and it opened into real space in front of him. A big blond bearded man wearing gold washed armour stepped out from the Sea of Souls. The man smiled at him. In other circumstances it might have seemed friendly but it was filled with menace. "Jolan Gix was never better than second best at anything and he only scored tenth in our psi combat classes. Never higher than tenth. Now you get to deal with number one."

Power rolled from Harad like an ocean. The Psyking had already burnt through all the power in his soul trap. He pulled out another glass sphere full of shining lights. "As a matter of fact I look forward to killing Jolan Gix's friends."

[Cynical Cat]

The Psyking smiled as Harad curled his hands into claws and pointed them at him. The psyker was strong, but he could see the shape the power was going to take. Warp lightning flashed towards the Psyking, only to fade away harmless about a meter away. The Psyking smiled and struck back.

Pink fire burst forth from the force rod and rushed towards Harad. The inquisitor raised his hands to ward of the the Tzeentchian sorcery. He succeeded. Smiling the Psyking took another step forward as he sent splinters of telepathic malice burrowing towards Harad's brain and began to sypon energy away from the inquisitor. Harad may have been stronger than Gix, but he didn't fight as well.

A ghostly hammer of telekinetic force formed and the Psking blocked it with a telekinetic shield. Harad may have been the much stronger than Jolan decades ago, but now he wasn't that much stronger than Gix. He was slower, his attacks were obvious, and he didn't have Gix's skill or killer instinct. Harad just picked up a mass of warp power, shaped it, and tossed it. But he was strong and Gix could recover any moment and begin telekinetically digging himself out. If he was trapped between them, that would be the end of him.

Harad shook off the brain splinters and through up a wall of flame that raced down the corridor. The Psyking level Gix's force rod and blew a hole in it as it swept over him. Easy. Then the flames wrapped around him like a wet blanket. His shields blazed as they were consumed.

The Psyking threw out his arms and unleashed a shockwave of raw power that shook the corridor and extinguished the flames. He psychicly slapped away a telekinetic lance that cratered the way and unleashed an intense bolt of lightning. Harad wasn't able to deflect all of it. Enough force leaked through to stagger him. The Psyking closed in warp accelerated blur.

He poked Harad in the chest and unleashed a cruel and terrible sorcery. At touch range the burst of warp energy burrowed through Harad's defences and transmuted his flesh. Harad fell and twitched and his skin began to glow. And then he changed.

The bones of his face shifted. His forehead and jaw pushed out. A cluster of tumors sprouted on his right cheek and then opened up to reveal eyes. His shoulders twisted and dislocated themselves. He opened his mouth and all that came out were bestial howls.

Chuncks of earth and concrete began to roll away from the mound of rubble. Larger and larger pieces were dislodged and then the Gix blasted himself free of the rubble. The inquisitor started forward and then stopped.

The drooling thing covered in eyes and oozing sores was still recognizable as his friend, if only because of the shreds of clothing and armour it still wore. A fin sprouted from his back and an extra pair of stunted limbs was growing from its rib cage. But the original pair of eyes were still the same.

Jolan Gix levelled his bolt pistol and did the only thing he could to help his friend.

[Cynical Cat]

Gix shuffled reports around on his desks. Raids, interrogations, informants, block sweeps, and strickly controlled emigration had yielded thousands of traitors and heretics. Those that were taken alive were ground up through a process that produced more interrogations and usually ended up in executions or servitor conversion. The purge had been extensive and thourough.

Innocent people had been sweeped up and destroyed by the heretic hunt, possibly as many innocent as truly guilty. Even an inquisitor as meticulous as Gix who keenly appreciated the kind of damage an excessive purge could do erred on the side of making sure that all the guilty were caught. As the old saying went, better than ten innocent men should die than one guilty man go free. Gix was haunted by one guilty man in particular.

The Psyking had escaped his grasp. He was a wanted man hunted by kill teams, psi trackers, and Gix's increasingly accurant clairvoyant powers. And nothing. If Jolan had been the kind of man to vent his wrath on others, the Officio Inquisition's hall would be full of corpses.

His door buzzer went off. He punched the intercom key. "Enter," he said.

Hethor D'eckor stepped in. The big veteran was wearing a maroon armoured bodyglove and had his bolt pistol and powersword hilt on his weapon belt. His gaze swept the room. It was sparsely decorated, with smooth black plas desk, a form conturing chain, and an ebony and brass cogitator box and screen. Gix had brought only two personal items. One was a picture of a platoon of young Cadian soldiers in antique uniform, posing for a picture. The other was of a small icon box of adamantium. Inside it rested a picture of the Emperor. "How's it going boss?" he asked.

"Nothing," was Gix's bitter reply. "He's alluded me. Again. I seem to have a knack only for catching small fry or fish too damned big to pull into the boat. He's gotten away again."

"You sure?"

"It fits," replied Gix. "No sign of him. He's a telepath and a teleport. Those two talents together make him difficult to stop with security sweeps. My gut tells me he's gone. So do my Tarot readings." He flung a sheef of flimsies down in disgust.

Hethor shrugged. "What does Danell think?"

Jolan leaned back. "He thinks he's either burrowed into the ground so deep we're unlikely to find him if we haven't already or that he's skipped the planet."

"Boss, he got away. It happens. It's not something to count on. He'll slip up. We'll get him."

"How much more damage will he do before someone gets another shot at him? When will that be?" Gix shook his head. "Bah. Too much like self pity. He's eluded me, might as well admit it. Our time here is at an end."

"What's happening?"

"Witch cult problems on Stregata Secundus. This world is well in hand. Orders. Even inquisitors have to obey orders."

Hethor nodded. "I'll let the others know." He hesitated. "Do you want to tell Melina yourself?" The noble woman had demonstrated an attachment to Gix that she didn't share with the rest of his people.

"No," he replied. "I'm afraid I've over indulged her. Despite having people's brains cut out of their skulls, electrografted into programmed idiocy, and then wired to machine bodies it appears that I still have soft spots. She's no good to us if she can't play the queen bitch and won't back the rest of us up when the weather gets rough."

"Got it boss," Hethor replied. He'd handled his share of green recruits before. He'd made a lot of them decent soldiers. Most of them had ended up face down in the mud or blown apart, but that was life in his regiment. Between the officers and the commissars, the soldiers of the Imperial Guard didn't need any more enemies.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Psyking entered the vaulted room. The battle shutters had been raised and the windows had a spectacular view of the poisonous clouds of gas giant Talona. "A beautiful view captain."

"The credit goes to my pilot. He's the one who plotted this course."

"Then pass my compliments," said the Psyking. He sat down opposite the captain. "I appreciate the pick up."

"We have done goodness together, you and I. Still, helping you leave no questions asks was not easy. Or without risk."

"I owe you, no question."

"I'm glad we understand each other. As a matter of fact, I do have a task you can help me with."

"I'd be delighted to," the Psyking lied. "Is this our last game?" the Psyking said, gesturing towards the regicide board and its pieces of white and green jade.

"Yes, I had the positions recorded. It's your move."

[Cynical Cat]

"Lord?"

"Yes," he said studdying the regicide board.

"Why did you help him? He is a servant of chaos."

"He is a useful servant of chaos. He is arrogant and craves attention. He draws too much of it on him and those around him. By joining cults he destroys them."

"Do we know that he alway does this? We only see his failures, not his successes. And the damage he does-"

"Is necessary. You worry too much. And he keeps Gix busy."

"Your will, my lord."

"Yes, Aledail, my will."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Star Eyed Dreamer plowed through the immaterium. At the helm was Navigator Nickos Faranja, the warp eye in his forehead peering into the currents of the warp, navigating using the beacon of the Astronomican. The Geller Field shielded all those inside from the horrors of the warp. The harsh realities of Inquisitional work were not so easily avoided.

Iriza Vess was a petite woman with dark hair that fell to her shoulders. The astropath's eyes were augmentics. Beside her stood the golden skinned goddess Melina Sevall. Both women were notable if you looked at them, although the demure Vess was easier to miss. Danell Keyes looked ordinary. A little on the pale side, average height. Dark hair, not bad looking. Nothing extraordinary about his physique, his lithe musculature hidden under clothes.

The extraordinarily deadly assassin stood in front of a table of neatley arrayed deadly weapons. "Neither of you ladies is expected to be one of the front line fighters, but we all go into dangerous territory. So you need to be able to take care of yourselves."

Iriza nodded. Melina waved her hand. "I've had some training," she said languidly.

"Good," said Keyes, "then this wont' be unfamiliar to you. With start with las weapons, because they are the easiest. Iriza, choose one."

"Me?" she asked. "Okay." She shuffled forward and peered at the guns. She hesitated. "This one," she said.

"Pick it up," Keyes said. "Be careful not to point it at anybody. It doesn't have a power cell in it, but safety is an important habit."

"Okay," she said as she picked up the standard issue Imperial Guard laspistol. "Oh. It's heavier than I thought."

"That's right," said Keyes. "That's what I thought at first as well." At the age of six, but that was a different matter entirely. "Now-" A rumble through the ship interrupted him. "I hate the warp." Then the ship lurched and shuddered. "Throne!"

Jolan Gix rose from the couch and touched his vox. "Nickos, what's happening?"

"Warp turbulance and getting worse! It came up all of a sudden! Inquisitor, I'm going to break for real space as soon as we can make exit. This is-" The ship rocked, "really bad." Another shudder.

"Do it!" confirmed Gix, not doubting his Navigator would do it anyway. The ship gave another sickening shudder and then Gix was knocked off his feet and thrown into his book case. Jolan managed to put his arms in front of his face and raise a telekinetic shield before smashing into armoured case and bouncing off.

"Transition!" screamed Nickos over the vox. Gix picked himself up. His forearms were bruised from the inpact.

"All stations, give me a damage report," Jolan ordered. Servitor drones and his people would give him results soon enough. He walked towards the bridge.

It was empty, except for a pair of servitors. "Nickos?" he called over the vox.

"In the enginarium. Inquisitor, we're boned. And the biggest, nastiest Tyranid warbeast you've ever imagined is doing the boning. The warp drive is shot."

Gix began heading aft. "How bad?"

"It's melted," Nickos. "Not even Gard can work with that."

"Sanguinus's blood," swore Gix. "Did you get our location?" he said heading back to the bridge. If they were in an inhabited system . . . .

"Yeah, the boonies. I checked before we left the bridge. We got blown to the edge of IXP-23. Junk system. Occassional asteroid or gas mining."

"Well, I guess it is time to call upon the expertise of our resident astropath."

"Inquisitor, this is not a safe system. We may not want to be found by whatever gets to us first."

[Pcm979]

Gyllia thrusted with her spear, and Gutug parried with one sword and lunged with the other. She cracked him on the jaw with the blunt end of Longinus, splitting his lip. He stumbled back and licked the blood from his face.

"Clever girl. But not clever enough."

He raised his swords in defense, and rolled under her reach, locking his blades around Longinus as he came to his feet, and forced the weapons out of their hands. Now his height and weight gave him an advantage.

She kicked him in the nuts, but he just smiled. "I've been upgraded, girl." He swung at her, but his fist clanged against something hard and unyielding.

"So have I." She smiled as he flexed his hand, nearly numb from the impact.

He bellowed with rage as she ducked into the corridor, where he followed-

And was blasted across the room by a Servitor.

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Pater rolled across the ferracrete floor, coming to rest behind a pillar as Niner provided cover fire. He squinted out from behind the pillar and got his first clear view of the aggressors. What the hell? "Fire warriors!" He yelled to Niner. The Tau must have paid a hefty bribe for the station's commander to simply ignore a sect of Tau Fire Warriors entering their station, armed to the teeth. "Station Security is going to roast for this!"

He fired off two precise shots, blasting two of the yellow armoured Xenos to the ground. Dead? Probably not. But that was good; He wasn't an 'Inquisitor' for nothing.

Suddenly, Niner caught a plasma bolt right in the chest as he leapt from behind his pillar. Mech-fluid and blood sprayed from his chest where his artificial organs fried, even as damage control systems sealed off the damaged sections. Pater threw caution to the wind and blasted his ally behind a pillar with a burst of TK.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The power armoured figure staggered.

"Sire?" Haergli whispered nervously.

"Psyker." Hissed the figure. "Here." the power armour twitched and locked into place as a psychic scream rattled the floor.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tau turned just in time to see the elevator doors explode behind them. A second later their brains popped as the mental shockwave passed them, blue ichor leaking from their helmets.

Pater saw it, with his warp-senses. Invisible to all who weren't Psychic, a figure wreathed in multicoloured flames launched down the corridor and stopped in front of him, floating in midair. The air crackled and people's hair stood on end as the battle of wills commenced.

Pater felt needles shredding his tight mental defenses, and he replied in the only way he'd been trained; Overwhelming force.

The psychic blast translated into the real world, violently exsanguinating anyone standing within a 100-metre radius of the battling figures and blowing all the lights on the deck. The mental apparition vanished, screaming. Pater felt blood running from his nose, and he couldn't see through his real eye.

"Gyllia!" He voxxed, but noone replied.

"Lillit-ack!" He spat out something that was probably supposed to stay inside his body.

Nothing. Warp it all.

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The giant, power armoured figure was blasted back, crashing to the floor with a gigantic screeching of metal.

"My lord?" Haergli gasped.

"It's them. The ones on the ship." The figure groaned painfully. "So much raw power. Vasgula! Get to the ship. The one with the faceplate is at least a high-gamma. You know what to do."

[Cynical Cat]

They waited in the cold, the ships systems powered down to almost nothing. An astropathic message had been set out and the ship itself was coasting slowly towards the inner system. Everything was on minimal power. Now it was a race between the void, pirates, and rescue.

Most of them had donned cold weather gear. Jolan had put on his power armour. Lights were down as well. Only the flickering tell tales on the instruments lit the bridge. It had been two days. No contact, no nothing. Melina shivvered into her furs. It seemed as if the ship had become a coffin.

There was a beep from a panel. Eyes turned towards it. Nickos's head snapped around. He leapt from his chair towards the side panel. "Contact," he whispered. "The odds held."

"Who?" asked Gix.

"Plasma thrusters, shielded reactor. Shield emissions."

"So not Eldar, Tau, or Necrons," said Jolan. "What else?"

"Not big. Smaller than a cruiser. Frigate sized or thereabouts."

Iriza went still. "Lord, I am recieving a message. As follows: Star Eyed Dreamer, we have recieved your distress signal. Are moving to render assistance. ETA two solar hours. Fool's Wager out."

"Rape me with chainsword," Hethor cursed.

"What's wrong?" Melina asked.

"We know this ship. We met her and her captain-"

"And her security bitch," Hethor interrupted.

"-and her security chief on Adraxis. Our meeting was somewhat tempestous. They may decide to try and kill me, out here and in the dark with no witnesses. On the other hand, I did end up giving them a good turn."

"Sound complicated," Melina remarked.

"It is. The short version is that their captain died helping put down a cultist uprising and that in a meeting with her new captain there security chief lined up to gun me down. We dug, not very nicely, for secrets and didn't find anything treasonous, although there was a questionable change of command. They left with an Inquisition warrant supporting the authenticity of certain trading rights, which figured in a dispute they were having. It depends if they value their pocket book more than there pride."

"Pride," said Melina.

"Maybe," said Gix. "Some people have to worry about money. Iriza, answer for Star Eyed Dreamer and Navigator-Captain Nickos Faranja." He nodded at Nickos.

"Tell them: We are grateful for their assistance and await their arrival. Dreamer out."

"What's the plan?" said Hethor.

"They have what, at most five hundred crew on board with another hundred odd armsmen," replied Gix. "If they knew who we were there are three possible avenues if they wish us harm. One, pretend they didn't hear us. Two, blow us out of space. Three, kill us when we come aboard. We remove one and two and hope they don't want to do three."

"And if they do?" asked Gard Vikal. "Hypothetically speaking."

"We kill them all," said Gix.

"Six hundred men?" asked the scientist.

"I didn't say it would be easy," responded the inquisitor. "But consider the alternative."

[Cynical Cat]

The Wager coasted next to the smaller ship. Maneuvering thrusters matched the velocity and an armoured docking corridor extended to reach the Dreamer's airlock. The hull reveberated at the docking clamps locked on.

It might be possible that the smaller craft might try to overload its plasma reactor to take the rogue trader with it in a blaze of glory, but that wouldn't work very well. The Wager's serveyor's would detect that and explosive bolts would jettison the docking corridor. Maneuvering jets would move the Wager away and even if the void shields weren't brought up in time, distance and the trader's armoured hull would minamize damage.

Melina clutched the hellcarbine. This was not what she had expected to die. Gix removed his helmet and looked back. "Everyone ready?"

Hethor nodded. Keys responded with a simple, "yes."

"A moment," replied Gard fiddling with one of his cyberorbs. "There," he said and closed the panel. "All ready inquisitor."

"Alright," said Jolan as he hung his helmet on his belt and turned on his conversion field. He wove a further shield of psychic force around his head. "Time for me to go out and meet the Gamblers."

"Jolan," said Hethor, "remember the advice I gave you a long time ago? About these ones?"

"Yes, I haven't forgotten." Smoke them all, had been Hethor's advice (and Severa's for matter) after they had been confronted by resistance and obfuscation as well as crew prepared to kill both of them at the drop of a hat.

"They won't have forgotten either."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Gamblers, the armed company of the Fool's Wager, were distributed around the docking bay and in fallback position's in the compartments beyond. They were a well drilled and well equipped force. They had fought and won dozens of engagements on ship and on planetary surfaces. They knew their business, possessed the right tools, and were very good at it.

Lasguns of the highest quality and pair of melta guns were pointed at the entrance of the docking corridor. A pair of crewman manned an autcannon that covered the entrance. If whatever came out was hostile, the Gamblers were ready.

"Gamblers this is the bridge," came a smooth male voice. Synnove controlled a burst or irritation. "The captain wants a word with you."

"Then put her on, you rapscallion," Synnove responded with a touch of affection. He may have known his father, but Engelier took after him. Too many stories, she thought. Too many stories of the great man.

"Synnove," said Uschi Valk, "status?"

"Fine captain. Everything's under control. Even if that ship is packed to the gills with Traitor Marines, we're ready for them. Now let me do my job."

"Will do," replied Valk. Over the years comraderie and shared grief had become a comfortable friendship. Adraxis hard left its mark on the Wager and it hadn't been a pleasant one.

The door cycled open. A man wearing black power armour stamped with a gold inquisitional markings stepped through. He wore no helmet. Synnove almost fell over with shock. The scar had faded so it wasn't visible at this range, but there was no mistaking that face. She had seen it often enough in her mind's eye. Inquisitor Jolan Gix.

"Security Chief Synnove," came Jolan's Gix's voice. "I hope you will forgive me for concealing my identity up to this point, but I thought it wise. Me and my crew are greatful for the assistance of the Fool's Wager.

Synnove's throat went dry. She had not dreamed of this moment. A word or gesture from her and the Gambler's would cut Gix down like ripe wheat. Blood vengeance for the humiliation, pain, and betrayel. Vengeance for the casual conscription of the ship despite all that they had done. Vengeance for assault which had almost caused her to miscarry her son.

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan tensed for Synnove's response. The moment the hammer dropped he would detonate a line of blind grenades in front of himself while opening up with his bolt pistol and plasma pistol. Targetting data would be projected on the nearly invisible film eyepiece he wore. While telekinetically seizing the locks on the docking corridor, the cyber orbs would begin to weld them on. Simoultaneously, he would launch spreads of plasma grenades among the gamblers as the first wave of servitors advanced. Hethor would lead the second wave. Keys would sneak behind them and bipass the battle lines to kill and wreck havoc in the rear. The others would move up to support the fighters. A lot of things could go badly wrong and they would be outnumbered by a formidable enemy, but they would at least have a chance. It was the best he could do.

Synnove touched an earpeace, never taking her eyes of Gix. As much as she hated him, her duty was to the ship. Inquisitional trouble was the worst and as much as she hated him, she had to admit that Gix's intervention in the Wager's dispute with the Ecclesiarchy had been immensely helpful. I should be the captain's call.

"Captain," she said in flat tone of voice, "I have the survivors here. They are lead by Jolan Gix."

There was a pause on the other end. She looked into Gix's eyes and saw a sense of eagerness. He anticipated this, she realized. He's ready to fight. All it would take was one misread movement to start a bloodbath, one that Jolan Gix was primed to fight. Just like the first damn time. It's happening all over again, just one a larger scale.

"Syn, don't do anything precipitice."

"Yes boss," she replied. "Where's your attack dog?" she asked Gix.

"Hethor? He's well enough. I didn't want him coming out first to avoid any unpleasantness."

"I was speaking of the bitch," Syn replied unable to resist the urge to goad him.

A shadow flashed over his eyes. Oh yes, that was a sore spot. "Captain Valin commands the battlecruiser Lord Vonrilyental. I would suggest a more respectful form of address when you are under navy guns. They have little enough love for the way Old Charters tend to act as if they were a law unto themselves."

That was a threat and a potent one. If Gix were to dissappear, she would notice and definitely send point out the rogue trader operating in the area that had bad blood between them and the inquisitor. The Inquisition didn't need hard proof. Gix had shown them that. And if Captain Valin's suspicions weren't satisfied, she might sate her desire for vengeance with her ship's weapon batteries.

"Syn, stand down and send him up. Alone."

Something withered in her breast. "Are you sure?" It was bad to question the captain openly, but despite everything that was telling her it was a bad idea to kill him, she longed to do it."

"Yes. Send him up Syn and stand down. We're traders first and we made a handy profit off the last time we met him. I intend to make this time really cost him."

"Keep him away from-"

"I will. I already sent him out of the bridge. Now send the Inquisitor to my office with a big escort."

"Alright." She spoke up. "Inquisitor Gix, Captain Valk requests your presence in her office. The Gamblers will escort you up."

"Certainly," replied Jolan Gix as if he wasn't prepared to wash the deck in blood. "A moment for me to call forth a companion-"

"Alone," she said. Gix stopped for a moment, calculating and then nodded his head. "As she wishes," he replied. "Lead away."

[Pcm979]

Pater double-timed it back to the ship, thrusting Niner's prone body ahead with a quick shove of TK. He restablished communication with them when he was only a deck away from the Concorde's landing bay.

"Gyllia, fire up the medbay at once. Niner's down. Gyllia?"

It was Lillith's cool tones which danced along the airwaves. "Gyllia is unavailable, Inquisitor. We've had an intrusion."

"Throne! Activate the defenses, I think we've got mo-

The world seemed to go dead, and he was blasted off his feet. Niner's body flopped to the ground as a masked figure dropped from the ceiling vents, landing on his feet like a cat.

"Lord Ronathal says to kill the Psyker, so the Psyker dies!" The obsenely masked figure cackled gleefully.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lillith tapped at the vox unit. "Inquisitor? My lord?" Nothing. She turned in time to see the ship's servitors explode in a spray of viscera and mechanical fluids.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tyran Ronathal frowned inside his ancient power armour. It was taking a long time for the hijacked service lift to reach it's destination, and he'd put that time to good use by psychically attacking the ship's crew; There was one he couldn't seem to touch, however.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pater rolled to his feet unsteadily, barely missing getting his skull flattened. His reflexes should be faster than this! Why hadn't he sensed the attack coming? He flung a burst of TK at his enemy; It wasted away before it got close.

Oh, warp. His heart sank. A Pariah.

[Cynical Cat]

Captain Uschi Valk waited in her office for Jolan Gix to arrive. Their last meeting, nearly twenty years ago now, had taken place here. Then the inquisitor had held all the cards. Now that was not the case.

She spared a thought for Syn's son, Engelier Fulgenzio. He took after his namesake in every possible way. Gix had been there when Engelier had died, knew what the Wager's captain had meant to them and the crew. There was no sense in making him a potential hostage to the inquisitor. He had objected, of course, but he had obeyed. He had his father's courage as well and the crew all loved him.

The door slid open. The armoured bulk of Jolan Gix strode into the room. Syn and two Gamblers took up the rear. If their presence disturbed him, Gix gave no sign.

He hadn't seemed to have changed much. The armour was new yes and the weapons he carried were different, but it was the same Jolan Gix. Age had not seemed to have touched him, except that his scar had faded. It made sense with the rejuv he had access too, but it was still unsettling. Uschi was keenly aware of the few grey strands that had started to show in her dark hair. "Inquisitor Gix," she said, "we meet again."

"Yes indeed," replied the inquisitor. "Thank you for rendering assistance to my people and myself in our time of need. I will see that you are rewarded for your efforts on our behalf."

"It was the least we could do as loyal Imperial citizens." The expression on Synnove's face did not indicate agreement, but fortunately she was behind the inquisitor.

"My assistance with the Charter bore fruit?" he asked politely as if he hadn't slammed Synnove up against the bulkhead and threatened to torture her to death infront of Uschi's eyes.

"Yes, it lead to a favorable resolution." She regarded him with cold eyes. Gix's affability was a mask, of course. She had seen the real thing and seen that it could vanish in seconds, but this was different. He had become harder, as she had once told Severa. She had twisted that emotional knife because it had been on of the few tools she had at the moment and it had almost backfired, but that hadn't made her words less true.

"What kind of compensation were you going to offer, inquisitor?"

"Whatever ever is the going rate for the rescue and recovery of high ranking Imperial servants from a dangerous region, perhaps with a sweetener on top." Which was damn high. The warrior's cry for vengeance was being put up against the trader's desire for profit and the good of the ship. Gix was putting a hand on the scales. Well, she had always known he was clever. "I don't think Synn here much likes our company and I imagine much of your crew share her opinion of us. I believe it would be advantageous to assign us out of the way rooms for ourselves and our gear."

He was already assuming victory. Well, he had played it well enough. If things had been different, he might have made a good trader. But if things had been different, Engelier would still be alive and his son would still have a father. "I agree," she said. The trader won and really, she should have. Gix hadn't killed Engelier, hadn't killed any of her crew, and had brought her profit and was doing so again. She remembered the way Severa Valin had spoken his name and knew that in many ways they were alike.

"I don't want any of your people to leave the area of your quarters without my expressed permission. I don't want any unnecessary and tragic incidents."

"Of course," Gix replied. "Anything else captain?"

"I think we have an understanding," she replied.

"I believe we do," he replied. He half turned to leave and then stopped. "Captain, do you remember what was said in the conversation you held with Severa?"

"Yes," she remembered clearly. She had pushed hard to the edge and had succeeded with that one. She remembered words regarding feelings, the burdens of necessity, and the primacy of loyalty to one's people.

"There is nothing but tragedy to be gained from our conflict. I have no desire to tear open this old wound."

The conflict had almost killed Engelier in his mother's womb. Almost. What revenge for that? What blood should be spilled on account of an incident that the mother emerged whole from and from which the child grew up strong? How many should die for an injury that had healed long ago? "I think that would be best," she replied.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“My moral authority is unimpeachable. I speak the will of the Emperor and under the precedent of Saint Thor: Jessex Rictard, you shall nevermore serve in His Holy Ecclesiarchy, neither as Cardinal nor any other rank. Your profane corruption does him dishonour, and you are not worthy to serve in his Ecclesiarchy.

“If I must adjudge you guilty of crimes before the eyes of the Ecclesiarchy, then hear this, I condemn you for Sedition, Irreligious Utterances, and deliberate and prolonged Debasement of the Holy Name of the Emperor! I pass sentence with His consent, and let those who would oppose me explain why they defy His will.

“Jessex Rictard, subject of the Emperor, you are sentenced to be taken from this place and placed at the disposal of the Adeptus Soroitas for use in Penitent Engines.

“Tliuyath, Eriel, take this piece of refuse away!â€Â

[Pcm979]

Pater and the Pariah circled each other warily. The Pariah was tall and thin, almost as tall and thin as the natives, but was heavily muscled nonetheless. Not an inch of body fat on it.

Normally, Pater would have the clear advantage, but without his Psychic powers or his Force Staff, he was easy prey; Prey the Pariah had been born and bred to track down and destroy. He raised his arms into a ready stance, and quickly subvocalised. "Lillith! I need backup."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lillith was otherwise occupied, as a burst of warpfire shot towards her, missing by mere inches. The psyker- It had to be a psyker- was coming perilously close to destroying her, despite her resistance to attacks of that sort. The proximity alarms sounded, and she saw a fuzzy power-armoured figure emerging from a service lift at the end of the cargo bay. She slapped the panel that controlled the defense turrets,and dodged another ball of fire.

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Ronathal cursed as he deflected another round of lasfire from the ship. Things were going very wrong, very quickly. Station Security would be here any second. Well, he had one last card to play.

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With a vicious kick to the head, Pater tumbled to the floor. The masked figure crouched down and grabbed him by his coat collar, dragging him up for a final blow...

And froze as something slipped from around Pater's neck.

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A hologlyph shimmered into view above Ronathal's massively-armoured head, and his brass speakers piped at maximum volume:

"Halt! In the name of The Emperor's Most Holy Inquisition!"

[Cynical Cat]

Shrouded in robes, Jolan Gix walked down the halls of the Officio Inquisition. Privacy shrouds and void screens shielded the passers by from one another, creating clusters of anonymous supplicants. So in theory no one knew he was here but a select few.

That wasn't true, of course. There had been a leak somewhere, either from The Fool's Wager or some Inquisition functionary processing the compensation claim. Inquisitors and Interrogators knew that Jolan Gix was on world with his tail between his legs. The once promising inquisitor, famous for his role in the ardous and daunting Adraxian Affair, had lost his ship. This topped off a series of months where he had lost a friend, his force rod, his primary prey, and been hospitalized by an assassin. The murderous perpetrators behind the DeCora affair continued to elude him and apparently continued to strike targets. Once Jolan Gix had seemed to be on the path to greatness. Now he seemed to be circling the drain.

Lord Carrell of the Ordo Hereticus admitted the younger man into his office. The elderly inquisitor was still vibrant and strong. He leaned back in his chair as Gix entered. There was a darkness around Jolan Gix, a palpable bleakness. Jolan bowed to his superior. "You gave instructions that I was to report to you immediately, my lord."

Carrell nodded. "It has been a rough few months, hasn't it?"

"Yes, although not without some successes."

"That is true Jolan, but not how it appears to others. Enemies escaping you, old friends slain, weapons given to you by your mentor taken as trophies. There are whispers about you Jolan, that you've lost your golden touch, and they are only going to get stronger with your ship wrecked and having to be rescued by rogue traders. If one looks at other participants in the Adraxian Affair, you're star is most definitely in eclipse."

Jolan would have loved to argue, but it was pointless. Carrell had already decided his fate. It was sealed before he had even stepped foot in this building. Pater Novum had covered himself with glory, Varian had engineered famous victories, and Jolan Gix had not. Successes were to be found, but of late even his victories seemed tainted. And, of course, the secret ones could not be counted. Jolan stood stiffly at attention. "What do you command?" he asked.

"There is a crusade taking place through the Segad Worlds. The forces of Walduv IV could use a combat hardened Inquisitor with experience behind his belt. A simple, straightforward assignment. A victory to get you back on track."

"I see," said Jolan and he did. A set assignment to one world that would lasts months or years. An assignment that one with Inquisition level access could discover and have plenty of time to alert his assassin and move said assassin to the world in time to take another shot at putting Jolan Gix into the grave. The heretic troops on world would be the least of his problems. "I will do my duty," Jolan answered.

"I know you will inquisitor. You are dismissed."