Defiant Echoes

[Koval]

That was the reaction of a soldier...

Andreas looked at the woman that had leapt into him. She was acting on instinct, diving for cover like a trained soldier rather than a civilian, and rising smoothly as though this were second nature to her. The fact that she had landed on top of him was apparently no hindrance.

She wore what he assumed to be local garb, but unless there was still a constant war raging on the planet, and unless this young waif of a woman were a veteran of a conflict that must have started in her infancy, she could only have been an off-worlder.

She looked at Andreas, and he couldn't help but look back at her, driven by curiosity. Pitch-black eyes suggested either a void-born origin, genetic engineering, or a minor mutation, while the distinct lack of fingernails on her hands hinted at either a flawed vat-growth, torture, or both.

The woman hesitantly offered Andreas her hand, as if only just remembering that this was how a normal civilian might react to accidentally knocking someone else down. Gratefully, Andreas took it, noticing the dust on the woman's hands. Evidently, she had opted to conceal her missing fingernails with a quick and dirty camouflage.

"Thanks," Andreas grunted, contriving to sound as if hurt. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine," the woman reassured him, a little too quickly. "Sorry. I have to--"

She paused as though only just noticing Andreas' cybernetics.

"Are you an adept?" she ventured cautiously. Andreas suspected that she was feigning ignorance.

"In a manner of speaking," Andreas nodded. "Though I dare say that this is hardly the most appropriate venue for personal introductions."

"What do you... oh," the woman answered, the penny dropping as she caught sight of the book titles. "So that must mean..."

"The nearest available bolt-hole, given whatever's happening up there," Andreas concluded. "And hardly my first choice of shelter, either."

The woman's face went blank, apparently not certain of how to respond.

"Shall we?" Andreas offered. "I believe I saw an emporium of somewhat better repute further towards the station. Unless you would rather be somewhere else?"

"I... have to go," the woman stated, turning to leave through the door, but Andreas put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She flinched away from Andreas' touch, raising her arm to strike him, but paused and relented just as suddenly, catching sight of an object that only she was meant to see.

"Perhaps this will change your mind?" suggested Andreas. "You're in safe company."

The woman's eyes widened as she saw the seal of the Inquisition in Andreas' hand.

[Dolnikan]

Inquisitor Semplice was waiting for Iota to report again. She had failed to do so at the arranged time, something very unusual for her. The explosion worried him, it might have caused another attack, which would leave her stranded and dying in the city called Coveton. Nogal also had received nothing from her. He decided to contact her: "Iota Tettares, report your current status."

She did not reply. Semplice automatically assumed the worst. He would not lose the last one, not to something as minor as bright lights. She was irreplaceable until Haskil's work could be replaced. He almost cursed himself for risking her for something small like this.

He weighed his options. He knew where she was. He could take the shuttle into the town and retrieve her. But that would be irrational. It would only cause him to lose even more. Speed however was essential to retrieve her intact.

He spoke: "Pantariste, Dall. Iota Tettares has been disabled in the city. It is essential that she is returned to me. She is near the land train station in the city. For the moment we have no map but you will take bikes and civilian garb. Arm yourselves with simple weapons. Do not draw attention. Proceed to the city as fast as possible and return my child to me."

The pair turned and left. They would do their duty, if she was still alive.

Then he heard her voice again: "The inquisition? Are you an inquisitor?"

[Koval]

"Not personally," Andreas sighed, his irritation at the woman's directness masking the confirmation of his suspicions well. "I serve one. Nothing more. Though rest assured, I intend you no harm."

The woman looked uncertain of whether to run away or come in closer, somehow achieving both at once as Andreas put his seal away. Hesitantly, she motioned for him to follow, and he followed her outside. He couldn't help but assume that she carried an audio bug.

"That reminds me," Andreas noted as he stepped back out onto the street. "You'll have to pardon my rudeness, my lady; with all the commotion, I forgot to introduce myself properly. Antero Tolnay."

"I-Iona Tethras," the woman responded cautiously. Andreas nodded appreciatively, suddenly only too confident that she was being monitored.

"An absolute pleasure to meet you," he grinned. "And I dare say my lord will be only too pleased to hear of other survivors."

"Survivors?"

"Unless, of course, you slept through a veritable barrage of life pods?" Andreas suggested.

Iona twitched and Andreas wondered, for a moment, whether he had touched a nerve or whether it was her monitor issuing an instruction.

"In any case, I'm guessing that you're here for a reason," Andreas continued.

"I sh-should pro--"

Andreas took a gamble, forestalling Iona before she could run away.

"We might get a lot further cooperating rather than being at odds with one another," he stated, talking both to her and the audio bug. "As forward as it is of me to suggest this, our reasons for being here can hardly be disconnected. And if I'm not mistaken, the messages might only have been the prelude to something you and I are both here to avert."

Silently, Andreas hoped that his gamble would pay off.

[Koval]

"There is nothing in our way."

"Then let us loose!"

"Your impatience is irrelevant. Satisfy your frustration among the populace if you must, but do not forget your place."

"...What would you have me do?"

"Our enemies have made planetfall. The Inquisition escaped us once. They must not be allowed to survive."

"You think it is as simple as deploying and finding them!?"

"Your ignorance is a distraction. They will come to you, Agares."

"Address me by my name!"

"Your flesh is a vehicle, Agares. Nothing more. This is irrelevant. They will come to you. Prepare for deployment."

---

"WHAT IS YOUR WILL?"

"Deploy. Our enemy takes refuge on the world beneath us. Destroy them in Khorne's name."

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

"Rein in Agares if his madness becomes a hindrance. Kill him if you must. He is arrogant. He does not understand why we are here."

"YOU HAVE BROUGHT US HERE TO SHED BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! TO GATHER SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

"You do not see the greater purpose. That which was defeated here nineteen years ago was the herald of this world's destiny."

"WHAT IS YOUR INTENTION?"

"The Sempiternal remains. We will recover it. If I must tear the world apart to find it, I will."

"AND THE ENEMY?"

"The Inquisition are vermin. They will come to you. Destroy them."

"I OBEY!"

[Dolnikan]

Inquisitor Semplice listened intently. There were other inquisitors on the planet. They must have been on some of the other ships that had been detected. They had probably received the same messages he did, and perhaps even more. They could become a useful source of information, perhaps even leading him to his goal. He knew that there was someone listening, Tettares was bad at hiding things like that.

He spoke through the link: "Tettares, do not tell him about me. You are here as an agent of the inquisition, not allowed to reveal the name of your master. Your appearance is because of torture at the hands of a cult and birth in one of the ring stations of Romer-02. You have arrived here  together with your only companion, tech-priestess minoris Dovin. She is keeping you updated on what she sees. You arrived stowed away on a cargo ship and ever since have been hiding on the fleet's flagship. You only got to the surface when it was evacuated. Do not tell this all at once, only say things when you are asked about them. Accept their offer of alliance and ask about the messages. You have only been told about one message and since then received no further communication."

Tettares did not reply to what he said. She however did say: "Cooperation seems like a good idea. Could you tell me something about the messages you received, my master has only received one and then sent me here, I received no further communication from him."

Meanwhile Semplice instructed Dall and Pantariste to return to the lander. He also gave Nogal instructions about her cover. He did not doubt that the man would consider Tettares to be very strange. He hoped that it could be passed off as a side-effect of the things she had been through.

[Koval]

"Certainly," Andreas replied, "although not in public."

"Wha.... y-yes, you're right," Iona nodded. "Though I have no idea--"

"Where to go?" Andreas prompted. "Let's go for a walk. The middle of a busy street next to a waystation isn't the most sensible of places to stand."

Iona fell in beside Andreas as he set off toward the station.

"You never said how you ended up here," Andreas noted. "Were you on the Asculum?"

"I was," Iona responded hesitantly. "With the interdiction, we had to stow away on a supply vessel and hide as best we could."

"We?"

"I didn't come alone," Iona admitted. "Tech-Priestess Minoris Dovin came with me. Th-though I should say, she's the reason I stayed hidden."

"I imagine being in the company of the Mechanicus has its advantages," Andreas speculated. "What's one more tech-priest minoris working down in the hold? I'm guessing she didn't even have to hide."

"It's true that the Martian Priesthood are a law unto themselves at times," Iona commented as they turned right at the waystation.

"Indeed. Reminds me of an investigation on Minos Epsilon," Andreas remarked.

"The forge world?"

Andreas nodded. "Ever heard of the Blank Dawn?"

"That was you?"

"They spotted my Lord Hanssen a mile away, of course," Andreas told her, somewhat amused at having to cover up Haines' name. "Inquisitors, Magi, Skitarii Consuls, all obvious threats. All needed removing by any means necessary."

Andreas paused to grin at Iona as they crossed a road. "Never saw me coming."

"I heard about that. Weren't they heretek assassins of some sort?"

"That's the simple version," Andreas answered, noticing a FOR SALE sign in the window above a bar. Deciding not to run the risk of having Haines or Hallona take up residence above a bar, he kept walking.

"And the more complicated version?"

"The more complicated version is that they had a master key to get into the Minoan census archives."

"I can see why that's a problem," Iona noted.

"All they had to do was erase all records of someone existing, and the forge guard would register that person as either hostile or a trespasser. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what would happen next."

Iona shook her head, though Andreas barely registered the motion, spotting a FOR SALE notice in another window.

"All I had to do, on the other hand, was pose as an Administratum scholar, then disappear, and subsequently register myself as a junior lexmechanic. Not all that difficult to monitor them while keeping my cover, actually, or infiltrate their ranks. Nobody notices a functionary."

"You're not exactly a stranger to situations like this, then," Iona observed. "Although you don't seem to have a lot of direction at the moment."

Andreas paused, suddenly noticing that the shops, bars and emporia were quite a long way behind him. The pair had entered a residential district, and judging by how tightly packed the habs themselves were (and how dusty the walls and pavement were), Andreas suspected that he was in a poor part of town.

However, he couldn't help but notice the general abundance of FOR SALE or FOR RENT signs in many of the windows.

"Actually, Iona," Andreas answered, "I think I do."

---

"Lord Hanssen?"

Haines had to remind himself, as he heard Andreas' voice in his microbead, that it was actually his manservant talking rather than a vox-thief. Andreas only used bad, and hastily improvised, pseudonyms like that if he suspected that he was being spied upon.

"Lord Hanssen? This is Antero. Do you copy?"

"I copy, Antero," Haines answered. "What's with the--"

"This might interest you," Andreas interrupted.

"Success?"

"Two. The first: I've found a friendly face. Not one of Lady Harlow's or Lord Barker's," Andreas admitted, "but a friendly face nonetheless. She's a survivor from the Asculum."

"And the second?"

"I've found a house."

"An empty house?"

"Shared living across three storeys and a ground floor. Why?"

"Not the most ideal location, Antero, but it'll do."

"My lord, the rent's good, the location quite strategic, and we have a good westerly view of both the land-train railway and an interchange between city streets and the main orbital. There is also a provisions store five minutes away, and links to the centre of town within a ten-minute walk of our location. I fail to see how that is not ideal."

"Shared living," Haines sighed. "Unless the walls are soundproofed, the whole storey's going to know who we are and what we're doing here."

"There are three apartments per storey, my lord. Of those, one is almost perpetually empty due to the occupant living with her partner in Stonechapel, and the other two were vacant."

"That's something at least."

"Indeed. However, that does leave the slight concern of who's sharing with whom."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Haines remarked dubiously. "Stock up on provisions if you still have credits. It's too late for you to come back out here or for me to come to you, so you'll have to give me directions in the morning."

"Understood."

"Hanssen out."

Haines dropped the line and looked over at Hallona and Barkley, an apologetic look on his face.

"Bloody idiot's bought us apartments," he informed them.

[Dolnikan]

Iota Tettares had said that she would collect her companion and that she would return to the apartments in a few hours. She ensured that she was not followed and whispered into the link: "My lord, what do you want me to do?"

"Proceed as you have before, cooperate with these people until I order you away. Reveal nothing about who or what you are. I have had Pantariste deliver your weapons to Nogal as well as additional supplies. You will smuggle them through the city on foot. Night is falling and there will be less people watching. Keep to the shadows and if you should be encountered by anyone, remove them, at this stage our hand must remain unseen. We shall remain here and I shall give you new orders when the time is right."

"As you wish, my lord."

She quickly reached Nogal, unseen by the citizens of Coveton. Nogal remained where Tettares had left her. The priestess was agitated. She said: "Iota Tettares, I have received my instructions. My new designation is tech-priestess minoris Dovin. Your designation has been altered to Iona Tethras, it closely resembles your old one, attempt to not be confused. We are to proceed into the city to an apartment recently bought by those who belief us to be their allies. I am not allowed to speak to any of them. We have been given the use of Sepilitor XII as well as additional equipment which is in these backpacks."

Sepilitor was one of the inquisitor's kill-servitors. It was tall and bulky. One of its arms ended into a high power lasgun and the other arm was a simple chainblade. The servitor walked steadily after Nogal and Tettares. Iota stole a large piece of cloth to cover it, the presence of such a weapon was sure to draw attention. They entered the city. The streets were almost empty and those who remained outside moved quickly, minding their own business.

The calm walk lasted until a group of three obviously drunk men confronted the group. One of them reached for Iota saying: "Gimme a hug, my pretty."

Before he could touch her Iota punched him in his gut before following up with a kick that broke his skull with a crunching sound. The other at first came to help their friend in need. Iota delivered a blow to the throat of one of the men and used her other hand to shatter the last man's neck. Before the sole survivor could regain his breath Tettares ended his life as well using her hands to drive shards of bone into his brain stem.

The corpses were hauled into an alley and the servants of Semplice returned to their path. Nogal said: "You have taken risk in dealing with the threat on your own. At the very least you should have fought armed to prevent every chance of one of them making noise."

"I have refrained from using weapons to prevent their blood from touching us, it would have been much harder to hide. The inquisitor told me that."

Without speaking Iota led them back to the apartments that had been bought by Tolnay. the lights were turned on and they marched to the door, looking to see if they were being followed.

[Inquisitor Sargoth]

It was still just dark enough in Coveton to see the burning debris that rained from the heavens, indistinguishable from the salvation pods were it not for signal lights and distress-beacons that pulsed and flared as the pods landed in the countryside and cities of the continent. Some had been damaged, or were dangerously antiquated, and one smashed through an ancient tower.

Volos watched from the viewport of his own pod. To his left stood Remiel, his violet eyes watching Volos. They were devoid of passion, and yet somehow they mocked him. They were cold and yet they glittered with amusement. Volos would have given anything to snatch them away, to leave Remiel blind as his master, and he fancied the mute assassin could hear him thinking it. His impassive face dared Volos to try. One day he would. All it would take was a single shot in the back of the head, if Remiel ever looked away from him, or if he had the luxury of time he could summon something to tear him apart. He enjoyed the idea of watching Remiel screaming his way silently into the next world.

He tore himself away from Remiel, his eyes flickering over his master, a giant in his thrumming powered armour. It was simple, bare metal, any ornamentation removed either by choice or by the numerous repairs it had undergone. One pauldron was still cratered and scarred from shrapnel. The helm still bore the jagged stubs of antlers.

His master's empty eyes glared through red lenses. He, at least, was paying Volos no heed. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

They had chosen one of the oldest escape craft, something that dated from the Dark Age of Technology, perhaps, a sub-relic of the Demeter. Some of the older yachts were ancient and unsafe, their crew no doubt killed during their descent, upon impact or merely blown off course. Other pods would have landed in the sea, their passengers doomed to suffocate beneath the oceans rather than amongst the stars. Remiel had selected their own saviour well before they had triggered the explosions and it was carrying them slowly and lazily towards the city.

The city was beautiful, Volos observed. The architects had been so fond of arches and gables, of statuary and decoration with few of the High Imperial columns so endemic of worlds settled in the Great Crusade. The numerous towers looked like a recent innovation, but remained true to the city's design. It reminded him somewhat of his family's country estates, on the islands of his distant homeworld. Their lodgings in the cities had been in tall spires, of course, but though the architecture of a hive city had a savage beauty of its own it could never compare to the cityscape before him.

In another life, Volos could have been an architect, or a painter, perhaps. He had an eye for beauty, he knew. 

Anyone could see, however, that war had ravaged this place in the none-too distant past, of course. There were constructions sites and towering cranes in the central sections of the city and streets strewn with rubble in the outer limits. One or two of the towers stood empty, their windows plasterboarded or merely unfilled. From what Volos had seen in orbit and his master's cryptic words he imagined it would grow worse.

With rising horror, Volos realised the salvation pod was going to land them in a central plaza.

He cursed aloud.

The sun was rising. It was already past dawn and far too light for Sonneillon to travel without being seen, even without his growling armour, but there was no other option. The authorities and the curious would approach the pod in minutes and rumours were better than questions. They were certainly better than the corpses Sonneillon would most likely leave in reply.

"Jacques?"

Find cover. Find safety. An abandoned hab, a warehouse, anything. No doubt if Volos didn't find something quickly his master would suggest the sewers, or something equally foul.

"We're coming down in the middle of the fututiones city! We'll be seen. You'll be seen."

"These people are unlikely to recognise a Word Bearer."

"And? They'll ask questions. People will investigate. Enforcers. Arbites. Inquisitors."

"You forget, Jacques. This is an interdicted world. I doubt there are any of the False God's secret police here. You jump at shadows again."

Volos caught himself grinding his teeth and stopped. Sonneillon would hear that. The old fool didn't understand the Inquisition. They had not existed in the Imperium he knew, and he would no doubt underestimate them if – when – he encountered them. After all, he had fought alongside demigods and daemons, slain his brother space marines and countless humans over millennia of warfare. Why should he fear a mere secret police force, albeit one with impressive powers and jurisdiction?

Volos had faced the Inquisition's catspaws before. The first time had cost him most of his leg and they'd damn near killed him more than once.

The pod landed and Volos grabbed his bag, grunting as he shifted it into place on his back. He hit the door release and Remiel was already outside. Mordechai gently led his master out of the pod and into the plaza. Already, there were people approaching.

"Which way?"

"Towards the river."

[Koval]

The blood was clearly flowing uphill.

It didn't matter that it defied all physical law and railed against mortal logic; he was watching it flow uphill, leaving a messy carmine trail where it went. That the blood trail petered out after a few metres was also of no consequence.

What mattered was that in a couple of hours, his latest victim would be discovered, and every second he tarried was another second that he, too, risked discovery.

He stole another glance at the direction of the blood trail, noting the slight north-westerly slant, before disappearing once more.

Whatever awaited him, it was hungry for blood.

---

"YOU ARE INFERIOR!"

"Enough of this idiocy," Goruvich scowled as he joined the Ancient in the Thunderhawk.

"I WILL YIELD ONLY TO THE SHACKLED ONE!"

Goruvich sighed, cursing the Ancient's obstinacy. Older even than Zagan, the Ancient was also utterly insane and psychotic, even for a World Eater, but he was also unrivalled in combat. More had fallen before the Ancient than Goruvich could bother counting.

The fact that the Ancient was also in a walking coffin did little to cast suspicion on any of these claims, and as far as Goruvich cared, went a long way towards explaining them.

"WHY DO WE TARRY?" roared the Ancient. Were it not for the external vox-casters, the Ancient might even have been talking normally, but every word he spoke was somehow turned into a constant monotonous scream of hatred and rage.

The day the Ancient had died was still a fresh memory for Goruvich. Zagan had only ever known the Ancient as a Dreadnought, but Goruvich remembered Brother Skatharax falling at the Siege of Pallantium, mortally wounded by a direct hit from a mortar shell. He remembered the screams as their Iron Warrior allies recovered his shattered carcass and fused him with the arcane machinery of a salvaged Dreadnought. He remembered the havoc as Skatharax's sarcophagus had first been inserted in the Dreadnought's body, and the Iron Warriors' utter inability to stop the crazed World Eater from going on a murderous rampage.

They had preserved his body and his killing instinct, but the last shreds of his sanity had been shorn away, and Goruvich was unsure as to what now resided there.

Now he towered over Goruvich, his massive armoured bulk standing at least twice as tall as the ancient Space Marine, and heavy adamantium chains shackled the Ancient in place against the back wall of the troop compartment. Goruvich suspected that Zagan had somehow placated Skatharax, otherwise the Dreadnought might have already broken free of his chains, or simply destroyed the front end of the Thunderhawk from the inside with his plasma cannon.

As a courtesy to Skatharax, the Iron Warriors had never put a proper lid on his sarcophagus. Beyond the faint glimmer of a conversion field, Goruvich could make out the Ancient's shattered features, the ruined leathery face largely augmented by cybernetics, the remains of his power armour, the mess of cables and tubes running up through his chest and wrapping around his shoulders, the black metal braces that held him in position.

"WHY DO WE TARRY?" the Ancient asked again.

"We do not," Goruvich snarled.

Skatharax turned his head towards Goruvich. "YOU ARE INFERIOR. WE WILL DEPLOY."

"Finally, some sense passes your lips!"

"DEPLOY," repeated the Ancient. "DEPLOY!"

[Dolnikan]

Antero and Nogal had both gone to sleep. Tettares had heard him close the lock on his apartement's door. She did not report to her master yet. No new information had been found despite his instructions. She stared out of the window. Coveton was a dark city at night. Only a few lights were burning. The rain of debris was slowing down. Iota was walking through the building. Through the window at the stairs she saw something moving in the sky.

She focused her eyes on the object. Her improved eyes allowing her t see it clearly despite the darkness and the distance. She recognized a thunderhawk gunship. It was obviously going to land in the city. Iota saw no markings of any kind on the vessel. That was peculiar, the Astartes always marked their possessions. She whispered into her comm-bead: "My lord?"

After a few moments Karnak replied: "Our lord is resting. Is there any information I need to transfer to him?"

"A thunderhawk is landing in Coveton. I am going to investigate."

"I will inform the inquisitor when he is awake."

Tettares scribbled a short note which she left in the central room. It said:

"I have left the apartment to investigate something I saw from the window, presumably a kind of lander. I will return as soon as I can.
Iona Tethras"

She climbed out of one of the windows and climbed onto the roof. She had a rough idea of where the thunderhawk had landed. She jumped from roof to roof, moving quickly towards where she expected the thunderhawk to be

[MarcoSkoll]

Last evening:

The voidswoman turned over a fragment the impact had broken off the soft mineral cliffs, surveying its shape as she sat in thought.
"So what do we do now? Wait for someone to rescue us?", she finally spoke, throwing the piece out of the crater and into the darkening evening, where physics gripped it and arced it down to impact the distant and tumultuous waves below.

   "No. We need to make our own exit.", Steren said matter-of-factly.
   "Why? Where? How?"
   "Because I doubt the locals are going to be very friendly to their gaolers. We'll head back that way.", Steren gestured east out over the bay, "We were one of the last evac pods, so any aid or allies should lie under our flight path. And we'll have to climb."
   "I can't imagine the pod has much in the way of climbing gear."
   "Then we'll have to improvise.", she said as she turned and walked down the crater towards the life-pod.

Dion and Javix, as she had found out the two surviving male voidsmen were called, were busying themselves with a corpse carried between them, but stepped aside to let her past. Perhaps it was trained military protocol or perhaps it was some gender derived social etiquette - she didn't bother to delve into their minds to find out, too busy distracting herself with recursive and layered thoughts to try and stop the personality within from rebelling at the full array of sensory unpleasantness the pod presented.

Gingerly stepping over pooled blood and splattered corpses, she kept herself focused on the lockers at the back of the craft. The first was seemingly the pod's weapons locker, somewhat less abused by the landing than the others, but an investigative tug at the handle proved fruitless.

   "Javix... would you mind?", she appealed to the powerfully built voidsman as he approached, "You're just bigger and tougher than I am."
   "Oh, I dunno.", he approached, tugging violently at the door twice to be rewarded with the wrenching sounds of metal shifting against metal, "You've got to be pretty tough. You're still alive."
   "I think that was more luck", she smiled at him before looking into the newly open locker, "Ah. Lasguns. Perfect."

~~~~~

Small hours of the morning:

Madoc sat, staying awake as his part in the approximation of sentry duty he and Ambrose had negotiated earlier in the evening.
The sound of movement behind him caused him to glance back over his shoulder, an urge that lasted only a brief second before a far greater compulsion to look forward. Very forward.

   "You're supposed to be resting.", came the first words his brain was willing to supply.
   "I know. I would be trying, if my head were not aching and spinning like a cleft rock full of nightmares.", Riley mumbled.
   "Poetry or not, you should be lain down - or at least more dressed. You'll get pneumonia to go with the concussion."

In his attempts to remain chivalrous, several moments passed with not a word spoken between the two.

   "And there's that thrice damned racket.", the Inquisitrix suddenly spoke, breaking into a walk towards the pod door.
   "Riley, wait.", he objected. His plea was ignored as she shouldered the pod door open.
   "Riley!", he repeated as he got to his feet, again ignored as she climbed out into the night dressed in only fragments of fabric.
   "Throne. Are you even listening to me?", he cursed, darting after her. As he got to the door, he looked out, seeing her stood only a few yards away, staring into the dark sky.
   "Riley. Get back in here, now. That's an order.", he barked at her, gesturing with metal fingers back towards the beds at the other end of the pod. She finally responded, glancing back at him.
   "...I think we've got slightly bigger concerns than me taking a midnight stroll in my knickers."

She pointed up into the sky.

[Dolnikan]

Iota Tettares watched from a rooftop. She saw fleeing people dressed only in their night clothing, not even having taken the time to gather their belongings, they just ran in a blind panic. After a few moments she moved on.

A little later she saw the cause of the panic. A blocky form towering over the fleeing people cried using powerful sound projectors: "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

She crept behind the ridge of a roof. The monstrous machine gleefully seemed to butcher all those who got in its path. It was bulky and heavy but moved faster than would be expected, even breaking into a run sometimes.  The thing was painted the colour of dried blood, although Tettares wondered if it was paint or actual dried blood. It bore the skull rune of the blood god. Then it turned facing in her direction.

In the center of the thing sat what was left of what once could have been a man. A ruined man. He seemed ancient and bore many wounds on his body. She also recognized something else. The man bore pieces of armour. The armour of the Astartes. Then she knew what it was, a dreadnaught, one of the sarcophagus machines used by the chapters.

Somehow it had detected her. It raised up one of its arms. Iota threw herself backwards, While still falling she saw the top of the roof vaporize and burst into flames. She landed on her feet and ran as fast as she could. Meanwhile she contacted Karnak: "Honoured priest of the Machine, is our master awake?"

"He remains resting, you know that."

Iota heard the screams on the civilians around her. She said: "Awaken him, this is an emergency. His expertise and advice is needed."

"His orders are explicit. He is not to be disturbed. His rest is important to preserve his health."

"We cannot wait. I have found a severe threat and it requires his attention."

"That is irrelevant. I have my duty and will not break my orders. You should know your place, you are a tool, it is not your purpose to question or to order, you merely act. Keep that in mind.", he spoke monotonously.

"I understand, honoured priest. I will not contact you again."

She was lost, Iota concluded after she had ran into a warren of alleys. She had not kept her focus on where she was heading. She had not seen a trace of the monstrous machine, meaning that she was relatively safe. She climbed atop one of the buildings to get her bearings.

Her short flight had taken her into the wrong direction. The plumes of smoke rising from the landing site were in the direction of the apartments. She knew that Nogal would still be asleep and sent her a short message: "There are renegade Astartes active in the city. They have landed in the middle of the city by thunderhawk. Alert Antero. I have encountered a dreadnought."

[Koval]

I have left the apartment to investigate something I saw from the window, presumably a kind of lander. I will return as soon as I can.
Iona Tethras

"Balls," Andreas snarled, rushing over to his kit bag and opening it. Inside was a lasgun he had taken from the life pod, together with a laspistol and as many spare charge packs as he could fit into one of the interior pouches. He grabbed both weapons, spilling a handful of ration packs on the floor in the process, and stuffed a charge pack into each before holstering the laspistol and securing the holster onto his belt.

"Those weapons are of Martian make," observed Tech-Priestess Dovin. Andreas jumped in surprise and whirled round, checking his motion before he could bring up his lasgun to shoot her. Breathing out slowly, Andreas lowered his gun.

"Sorry," Andreas sighed, burying himself in the kit bag again. "I thought you were still asleep."

"Until recently, I was," Dovin replied, although Andreas couldn't help but notice that she was already fully dressed. "Miss Tethras left a message."

"I saw. And something doesn't add up. If she saw a lander coming down then that means they're--"

"Renegade Astartes," Dovin interrupted. "Iona has spotted renegade Astartes in the city. They have a Dreadnought."

"So that'll mean the lander was..."

"A Thunderhawk gunship, yes."

Andreas sighed. "The instant I saw that Traitor Marine on the Asculum's holodeck, I wondered if there were more of them."

He paused, looking straight up at Dovin.

"I didn't want to be right."

"However, you remain undeterred."

"Miss Dovin, you'll forgive me for saying so but I'm more worried about Iona than the Astartes," Andreas answered. "She's in danger. That's what matters."

"We barely know each other, and yet you are more concerned for her safety than for your own," Dovin remarked. "Your behaviour is irrational."

Andreas paused, finally catching sight of the one thing he was looking for.

"Call it what you like," he responded. "I call it common sense."

Dovin opened her mouth to speak, before closing it again as Andreas produced a vid-recorder.

"And I dare say my Lord Hanssen will call it reconnaissance."

---

"Chaplain. I must say that having the Adeptus Arbites on our bridge is a rare occasion," Vargas stated.

"Cut the pleasantries, Commodore," Silon snarled. "This is an official Arbites matter, and it is your conduct that is being called into question."

"If I'm not mistaken, ser Arbiter, it was your own superior officer that advised me to send out the distress beacon, and to rally the remainder of the interdiction fleet," Vargas answered. "So far, I've done exactly that."

"You have barely half a dozen ships under your command, Commodore, of which this is the only vessel larger than a frigate," Silon retorted. "One enemy vessel managed to break the back of an entire interdiction fleet. Had you been willing to join the fight with your fighter squadrons and bomber wings, this catastrophe might have been averted. As it stands, you turned and fled while loyal Navy personnel fought and died. You have clearly lose sight of your duty to the Navy and to the Emperor."

"Vice-Admiral Burnett's orders were clear enough, Chaplain," Vargas countered. "His orders were to withdraw. If following orders constitutes losing sight of one's duty then your entire case is built around a contradiction."

"Vice-Admiral Burnett is dead. Unless you can provide an audio log, your claim is impossible to verify."

"Very well," Vargas nodded, loathing every second of the Arbiter's presence. "Mister Kees, get me that audio log."

---

"Lord Hanssen, this is Antero," Andreas began.

"Receiving you," Haines answered.

"Miss Tethras has ... disappeared."

"Your contact? Any idea where she's gone?"

"She went to investigate a lander that came down in the city," Andreas explained. "She mentioned Traitor Marines, and a Dreadnought."

"A what!?"

"My thoughts exactly, my lord. Is Lady Harlow able to walk?"

"She's up and about, but a bit unsteady," Haines answered, trying desperately hard to blot out the image of Hallona standing almost naked under the night sky.

"I advise getting her to safety," Andreas continued. "Get her into the city."

"I'm not leading Lady Harlow into a death trap while she's still concussed."

"I wasn't thinking about that. If you can get her into the city, you can get her and Lord Barker to Stonechapel, or some other city."

"Until we know what we're fighting, I don't want to risk moving her," Haines argued.

"It might not matter much either way before long, my lord," Andreas stated suddenly. "I have a visual on the Dreadnought. Uploading a live vid-stream to your data-slate now."

Haines scrambled for his data-slate, turning it on in time to see a walking coffin blast civilians into ash with its plasma cannon. The Dreadnought's form was thrown into silhouette by the fire from a burning building, obscuring most of the detail, but Haines fancied that he could see a skull icon on the Dreadnought's shoulder, the detail barely visible in the light from the fire.

The Dreadnought seemed to be screaming as it gunned down the civilians fleeing from it, filling the life pod's interior with a horrendous mechanical noise.

"Get out of there!" Haines urged Andreas.

"Negative, my lord," Andreas answered. "I'm looking for Iona. If she's dead, then we lose the connection to her master before it's even established, and I dare say we're going to need all the support we can get."

The vid-feed suddenly went blank as Andreas turned the recorder off.

"Now if you don't mind me saying so, my lord, I need to ascertain exactly what we're up against, and I can't very well do that if I'm talking to you."

"Damn it, I'm not going to lose you just because you're chasing skirts in a war zone!"

"Rest assured, my lord, I have no intention of either dying or chasing skirts," Andreas responded. "Antero out."

[Koval]

They are vermin. Their fate is extermination.

Yet they will embrace their future, whether willingly or not.

The Sempiternal will awaken. The sundered one will walk again, reborn in a sea of blood and death. That which I seek will be returned to me.

And if I must annihilate billions for that to happen, I will.

Deploy Secutors.

[Inquisitor Sargoth]

The best thing that could be said about the warehouse, Volos mused, was that it wasn't a sewer. That said, the stench of rotting fish was barely preferable. Sonneillon sat atop a throne of crates that cracked and splintered beneath his weight, unmoving save for his lips. Was he praying? Dreaming?

Remiel was watching, as ever, and Mordecai was cleaning and performing some minor maintenance on Sonneillon's flamer.

"Could I borrow that? I need a light."

He'd left a few hours earlier, under the pretext of reconnaissance, and picked up a selection of local tobacco. There had been several barriers to this. First and foremost his lack of local currency, secondly  the fact he struggled to understand a word of the local Low Gothic and most people had a similarly rudimentary knowledge of High Gothic. It hadn't been easy, and what he had obtained was straggly and unpleasant-smelling. Perhaps it was a local plant, not true tobacco at all, or some artificial substitute. There had been a war, after all.

Mordecai smiled humourlessly at him and, to his surprise, produced a book of matches and threw it. He fumbled the catch and felt Remiel laughing at him.

He relished the roll-up as best he could. They'd kill him, one day, but the safe bet was that he wouldn't live long enough for that to matter.

"Ambient temperatures have fallen. I can no longer feel light on my skin. Is it dark enough?" said Sonneillon, head snapping up.

"As dark as it gets in a city, lord."

"It is time for us to find a safer haven."

"You and Remiel should explore the city. Find us a more permanent location," Mordecai said, his voice little more than a breath, pointing a thin finger at Volos.

Volos sighed for his master's benefit, but the Word Bearer lifted his hand.

"That may not be necessary... I hear something..."

"What?"

"You will hear it momentarily, I have no doubt," Sonnellion replied, unclamping the bolter from his thigh. "An engine. An aircraft."

"What is it?"

"Something I have not heard in years, but quite unmistakeable. A Thunderbird gunship. The Astartes are here."

"Space marines?" Volos cursed.

"That is what I said," Sonneillon replied, replacing his helmet.

"Your orders, lord?" hissed the eunuch.

"Ensure my weapons are prepared, artificer. Remiel, take a look while I prepare myself for the bloodshed to come."

The assassin nodded, pointlessly, and disappeared into the night.

"Just because the Astartes are here doesn't mean bloodshed is inevitable, surely?" Volos said, his voice craven and tremulous even in his own ears.

Sonneillon ignored this.

"Jacques, you should prepare yourself also. I suspect you will have need of your petty sorceries soon enough."

Sonneillon's expression was hidden by the same helmet that robbed his voice of emotion, but Volos could still hear him smiling. "You have never been man of faith, Jacques, but I suggest you pray."