Private Old Ties

[Cait Vengarov]

+++ Ordo Hereticus Data-Log +++
Filed by: Inquisitor Cait Vengarov
Theatre: Baal, Imperium Nihilus
Locale: Hive Primaris
Seal Level: Internal Archive

The flyer made patterns in the ash-thick haze as we approached Hive Primaris. It heaved and juddered, weighty and pendulous in its navigation of the chem-laden mist that clung in ever-thickening patches around the crown of the central spire. Beneath us, Baal's capital rose in monumental tiers of stone and ferrocrete, banners of crimson and gold hanging heavy from its upper terraces. Even through the murk, I could see the faint glimmer of devotional lumens tracing the edges of vast winged statues that crowned the higher reaches.

It was Sanguinala.

Even above the engines' roar, the distant tolling of cathedral bells carried through the smog-choked air. Vox-hymns bled across civilian channels, devotional chants praising the Angel whose sacrifice had shaped an empire. Nearly two thousand years had passed since the Great Rift tore the galaxy in half, and still Baal endured.

The auspex mounted to the main control panel of the light transporter flashed early warnings, the machine spirits no doubt eager to keep these servants of the God-Emperor's Ordo Hereticus alive. We were on a righteously ordained mission. Even on holy days, especially on holy days, heresy did not rest.

The six seats that occupied the traveller compartment were all filled, warm bodies pressed a little too close for true comfort. Pilgrims, merchants, minor officials, all drawn to Hive Primaris for the feast day. The auditory assault of the engines kept me from dozing, the vibrations and cloying heat doing their best to lure me into slumber, a debt I had been accruing for months.

My journey from Scintilla had taken seven weeks through the nightmare void, a passage that unsettled even agents of the Inquisition despite our familiarity with its idiosyncrasies. The Great Rift still scarred navigation routes. Warp passage was no longer merely dangerous. It had become capricious, bruised by centuries of instability. Perhaps it was my understanding of that, of how closely the pure and the obscene coiled around one another in the immaterium, that made endurance harder rather than easier.

The pilot's voice sparked into my earpiece, sparing us the futility of shouting across the engines' roar. My eyes moved to the back of the servitor co-pilot's head, sanctioned cables bursting from pallid flesh and binding its thoughts directly to the flyer's workings. A thin sheen of sacred unguents glistened along its cranial ports.

I exhaled slowly as the traveller beside me jostled their bags, the sour tang of stale sweat irritating my nose.

I wondered whether they would have pressed so close had they known who I was. If they had understood the nature of the calling I answered to. All are called to serve in one fashion or another. Mine was simply more direct. More consequential.

I considered, briefly, whether it was heresy to take pride in that.

The wizened voice of Schola Mistress Rarla stirred in my thoughts, an echo I had never entirely escaped. Pride invites the Fall. Service invites absolution.

I dismissed the memory.

My path had been clear. Clearer than it had been for some time. I had a mission, and Sanguinala offered the perfect veil. Crowds. Distraction. Faith burning bright enough to blind.

The mission itself was not solely one of investigation. I had arranged to see an old friend while on Baal. Such meetings had become rare in these latter centuries. The galaxy was cut in two, its arteries of travel narrowed and unreliable. Each passing decade seemed to draw the borders of one's world tighter. Even in Imperium Nihilus, where distance should have rendered such sentiments meaningless, it often felt as though everything were shrinking. Systems fell silent. Routes vanished. Familiar names ceased to answer hails. To cross the void now was not merely inconvenient but uncertain.

That I had been able to make this journey at all was something close to providence.

The thick, curling roar of the boosters intensified as the flyer adjusted its descent vector. It would have been wholly satisfying had it not belied the disconcerting fact that we were suspended in little more than a metal chassis bolted to several hundred tonnes of rapidly combusting promethium, guided by sanctified machine spirits and the steady hand of a half-lobotomised pilot.

Through a thinning break in the haze, Hive Primaris came fully into view. It was not merely a city but a shrine wrought in stone and iron, a fortress raised around memory and blood, the beating heart of Imperium Nihilus. On its holiest day, I arrived without announcement.

Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

It was like taking a long breath after being waterboarded.

Aurellia wore her simple black suit lacking any adornment and a gold cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Dark eyeliner framed her emerald green eyes, her hair was tousled, but kept well. She enjoyed this moment between battles, the calm between storms.

There had been times when the Master had kept her in cryo-stasis between conflicts as part of her psychological conditioning, going from battle and not even getting the benefit of a shower before being awoken with only enough time to dress herself before boarding the shuttle to the next battle. Now that she had ascended to the ranks of the Inquisition itself, she had time. Time to think, time to focus. But there was no such thing as spare time in Imperium Nihilus.

Twenty centuries the Inquisition had bought Imperium Nihilus, alone in the dark without the light of the Astronomican or contact with Holy Terra. For every war the Regent fought, for every system the Astartes liberated, and for every world held by the grim determination of the Imperial Guard, the Inquisition smothered a dozen uprisings in their infancy. Culled a cult from growing. Excised the cancerous growth of faithlessness before it could corrupt a Hive. Any spare time Aurellia found for herself was Heresy in its truest form. Complacency could only breed corruption.

Until every planet and every star is back in the God-Emperor's embrace, there could be no rest for the wicked.

"Inquisitor Vengarov," she murmured to herself, searching back through her memories. Jungles, children screaming, fires burning all around her. Her hands stained in blood. She had felt many emotions back then, but none of them had been guilt.

Her boots tapped upon the marble floor as she left the high vaulted ceilings of the corridors to stand upon the landing platform. This far up the air was thin as the spires pierced through the clouds, but not so much so that one needed a rebreather to survive. Long ago, Baal had been a world dedicated solely to the Blood Angels and their successors, leaving the people to survive in a harsh wilderness, but since Lord Dante had become the Regent of the Imperium Nihilus, the fledgling hives had exploded in size and population. Pilgrims from every corner of Nihilus came crawling to Baal, seeking reverence, refuge, and recompense. The dredges of society sought to prove their worth to the aureate warden, everyone of them praying to one day stand alongside him as a brother of the blood.

Aurellia covered her eyes and turned away as the flyer landed, shielding herself from dust until the roar of the engines quieted and only the winds of Baal remained. Time to put the mask back on.

A faint smile stretched across Aurellia's face, like a knife peeling back the skin on a carcass at first, but fading into what appeared to be a genuine warm grin. Cold eyes shifted ever so slightly to feint kindness, but there was always something off about the Explicator. Always something not quite right.

"Blessed Sanguinalia, Inquisitor." She offered a deep bow as Cait arrived, bending at the hip and tucking her left foot behind her right, sweeping back the cloak and extending a hand out to the superior Inquisitor while keeping her eyes on the metal deck of the landing pad.

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

The pad had been made available more quickly than we had anticipated. To be truthful, I had not wished to hang suspended above it any longer than was strictly necessary. There is something about being a sitting target that unsettles me; landing in a flyer has always sharpened that particular anxiety.

We were not marked under the Ordo's colours that day, and so I doubted my presence had hurried matters within the Hive Airspace Control Array. That was mere supposition, of course. Loyal servants of the God-Emperor know better than to impede the will and way of His Holy Inquisition.

A saccharine fellow in a Baal PDF officer's uniform met me at the ramp, his courtesy already overextended, the tags at his collar denoting the rank of captain, if my knowledge of their cadre remained current. He snapped a salute and hurried to assist me down from the flyer, eager in a manner that bordered on theatrical.

Space was at a premium, even for a member of the Ordo Hereticus. I could have brought His wrath down where I pleased. But chastising an official for hastening me along on Sanguinalia, upon the Nihilus homeworld no less, was not just cause.

I could have made it so. Of that, I had no doubt.

I hadn't seen Auri since a brief but eventful secondment of mine several years prior, to Aeryas, under the auspices of the Inquisitor Lord Brontus Nero. Venerated amongst our Ordo, Nero's need of my help in that particular theatre of operation had always confounded me. I am neither a jungle specialist nor an expert in the xenos that might favour such a place, but I had done my best.
She had stood a short distance from the landing pad, untouched by the bustle that churned around her. A simple black suit, unadorned and deliberate, stripped of all vanity. The gold cloak about her shoulders had caught the thin Baalite light and held it there, not ostentatious, but declarative.

Dark liner had framed her eyes, sharpening their emerald to something precise and evaluative. They had moved once across the pad, measuring, accounting, dismissing. Her hair had been tousled in a way that suggested motion rather than neglect and kept well enough to betray intention. What I couldn't tell then was whether her bow was performative or sincere. I settled on assuming sincerity.

"Blessed Sanguinalia, Aurelia. We are truly blessed to be on Baal this day of all days. If Terra is out of reach, then we take our blessing where it is given."

I thought quoting Arioticus the most fitting courtesy. It seemed wise at the time. Appropriate. I look back on it now and feel the faintest chill. I had no cause to instruct her in piety nor in place. The lesson was not mine to give. There are moments that appear harmless when spoken and only later reveal themselves as beginnings.

"What has the day brought thus far?"


Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

"Indeed. Blessed are we for having this moment of tranquility." Aurellia offered in response, straightening and smoothing out her jacket and trousers, turning to fall into step beside Inquisitor Vengarov, locking their arms together as they strode back into the vaulted corridors lined with floor to ceiling stained glass windows. It was an odd familiarity they had, considering most of their time together had been spent with Aurellia covered in blood after she and the stormtroopers massacred an insurgent village and left their heads all on spikes for the guerillas to find in an effort to lure them out into the open.

Aurellia was not overly religious, though hardly agnostic or atheistic. She knew the God-Emperor guided some individuals with His will, knew He altered reality in the form of miracles for the faithful. Aurellia simply did not find prayer or acts of faith to be useful. The God-Emperor's machinations were as beyond fathoming as her Master's, and no amount of prayer could contort those plans for an individual's benefit. Nor should they. Everything sacrificed was for the Imperium, for mankind as a whole.

"The day has brought much, but I have not had it all analyzed as of yet." Investigations often started with staring at a pile of seemingly unrelated data and finding out how they were all connected until a map of the enemy's intentions presented itself. Only then could one intercept the Ruinous Powers and thwart their machinations. "Simple things. A cult here with questionable practices, a criminal there who might have profane benefactors."

"There is a gala downstairs for some of the Sector elite to gorge themselves on a banquet and dance the night away. Word is Lord Delmawr might have a vice for the carnal pleasures one might call unseemly enough to label as heresy. Though, he prefers dark hair from what I've read, and so us discovering the truth to the matter is unlikely." The Explicator mused with a devious grin, commenting on the possible proclivities of one of the Planetary Governors in the Red Scar as though they were two women at court gossiping about the Lords and Ladies, a place both women were likely very accustomed to. Vengarov being from the Calixis Sector Capitol of Scintilla, and Roth having grown up in the Valmire aristocracy.

"In truth, Baal seems to be stable. It is not the heart that worries me. It is the enemy without." She began in a hushed, more stern tone. "The board is set, as they say."

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

Straight to it, I thought. She had always been pragmatic to the point of bluntness. Yet there was poetry in her ways, a virtue that deserved nurturing in an age such as ours.

'I did not bring my gown for the gala, sadly,' I offered, gesturing towards the PDF officer who was scrambling beneath the buffeting headwinds of the flyer's reignited engines, near comical in his attempts to remain upright beneath my cases.

'I have other matters to discuss. Will you join me in my rooms? I maintain a hab-suite here. It is secure.'

I leaned forward, drawing her into my confidence. The whipping winds of the spire would see to it that nothing carried to prying ears.

'We keep it for wayward strays and fallen women when I am not in attendance. Are you a wayward woman, Auri?'

I attempted a smile, but the laugh escaped me before I could lend the question any true severity. It was good to be back with her. Yet even then I knew my arrival on Baal was an augur of harder days to come.

How little I understood.

@aurelia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

"A shame, I never leave without at least one proper ball gown for emergencies. Luckily, Baal is now home to a plethora of tailors and fashionistas should the desire to procure one arise." Aurellia said, sucking on her teeth to mimic displeasure at missing out on the gala. In truth, being in a crowded room full of the worthless aristocracy would have sapped what passed for her soul.

"Of course, Inquisitor. By your will." Aurellia nodded respectfully, letting the older woman lead her towards the hab-suites she kept available on the Regency-World.

Aurellia arched an eyebrow. Everyone could be a spy. Everyone could have fallen from grace. Everyone could be an enemy, fighting some unseen, internal conflict for power or prominence within the Ordo. Could Vengarov be attempting to sow division within the Master's camp in order to make a play for power? "If I were such a thing, I would hopefully have enough wisdom not to admit it to the Rosette."

She smiled mischievously, "But, my eyes have been known to wander from time to time. What is it you are hoping for?"

@Cait Venagrov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

She made me laugh, truly. There was a pleasure to be found in her way of turning a phrase, giving a glance, a wry tone she'd deploy as methodically and expertly as any weapon available in the arsenal. I brought us through the Hive's warrens, higher still until we reached the corridor that housed our institute.

The door sealed behind us with a muted hydraulic sigh, and the wind fell away as if it had never clawed at the spire. Silence followed, shaped and deliberate. No echo troubled the vaulted ceiling, and no stray hum crept beneath the amber glow of the lumen globes. I lingered just within the threshold and took measure of the air, incense and circuitry held in quiet accord.

The front chamber remained precisely as I had left it. Warm. Devotional, but never theatrical. The ceiling's arched ribs vanished into shadow, suggesting vigilance rather than grandeur. Deep red rugs absorbed the sound of our steps. Velvet seating stood arranged with careful symmetry. A long table of dark wood waited with simple ceramic bowls and folded linens, as though its occupants might return at any moment and find nothing disturbed.

The air carried myrrh and cedar from the blanket chests stacked along the wall. Beneath that sweetness lingered the faint metallic trace of consecrated oils worked into hidden joints and panels. One would not notice it without knowing the difference between incense and machinery. I did.

To the right, the devotional alcove flickered softly. The aquila's wings curved over a robed rendering of the Emperor. No throne. No sword. Women who arrived here expected judgment. They found something gentler.

I turned slightly so Aurellia could see my expression and pressed the fourth feather of the left wing, then the halo above the Emperor's brow. A vibration answered from within the wall. The tracery divided along invisible seams and withdrew, revealing the corridor beyond. Some would call the mechanism irreverent. I consider it precise. All things pass through Him. It is fitting that this should as well.

The warmth ended at the threshold.

Ceramite drank the light. Amber yielded to a low crimson glow rising from the floor. Fabric gave way to hard geometry. The plating beneath my boots registered my weight and no other. The walls carried vox scramblers tuned to devour stray transmission. Narrow apertures concealed micro servitors in patient dormancy.

The passage had been carved after the suite was granted to me, its construction disguised as reinforcement for additional residents. I supervised every measure. Every seal.

At the corridor's end, the inner chamber opened at my approach. The hololithic table dominated the space, dark for now, though I could summon the image of Baal suspended above it, threat markers orbiting in disciplined arcs, dossiers unfolding in ordered layers. Data slates lined the walls. Wax sealed parchments rested in recessed frames. My rosette lay within reach, neither displayed nor concealed.

Opposite it stood the weapons rack, immaculate. In the corner, a high backed chair waited, elegant in silhouette, exact in its construction. The restraints within its arms and spine were invisible until required.

A final door admitted us to the smaller chamber beyond. The light softened again, but it did not attempt comfort. A narrow bed draped in dark velvet stood against one wall. A blackwood desk faced a single viewport set into the spire's height.

Baal stretched beyond the glass in red desolation beneath a bruised sky. Dust moved across the horizon in restless sheets.

On the desk lay a faded blue ribbon coiled atop an aging envelope. It remained exactly where I had left it.

I turned back toward the corridor. The crimson light from within touched the edge of the velvet rug in the outer chamber, staining it darker where the two spaces met.

'Find a chair' I offered, walking towards a real wood side panel, large enough for four ceramic cups and a pot of caff. Organic wood is hard to come by, so even this half metre square block was a prized possession.

'Can I get you a drink? I find the air on Baal dries me something rotten!'


Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

The Inquisitor led the way into a suite of rooms that breathed of class and power, the kind of room Aurellia remembered her grandfather kept in his castle on Valmire. It did not contain every possible luxury some of the wealthy enjoyed, but lush red carpentry, the smell of incense lingering on the air, and freshly cleaned linens were the kind of luxuries the wealthy of the Imperium did not even realize were luxuries. Her sister had ensured that Aurellia knew the difference, the Knights of House Grathix believed such things were earned, and Aurellia had grown accustomed to much simpler lifestyles.

Vengarov opened a hidden compartment in the devotion-alcove, a simple thing really. The chamber within was much more utilitarian, something Aurellia was more comfortable with, though the displays of wealth remained. At the Inquisitor's instruction, the blonde woman found a seat and crossed her leg over the other, smoothing out her clothing as she did so.

"Water, thank you." The null replied, looking over the parchments and data slates. This was the office of someone who had to spend many hours pouring over data in order to make a case, to discover heresy hidden deep in the recesses of humanity. "I do not partake in inebriants.", she smiled as she spoke, though it was the kind of smile that tried to reach her eyes but failed to turn the blackness in her core to seem warm. "But feel free to indulge."

"A nice place you have here. I am surprised anyone convinces you to stay in Calixis." There were a thousand nobles who would kill to have a home on the Regency-World, and a thousand more that would scheme and plot the downfall of an entire house for the opportunity. But the Inquisition made sure its senior members had whatever they needed. "I admit, I am a bit jealous. Red suits me."

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

I did not smile at the compliment. In truth, I had not styled the place; I had merely inherited it from my conclave's last emissary to Baal.
I lifted my glass and took a measured sip, watching Aurellia over the rim.
"You would not find it comfortable for long," I said. "The incense masks many things."

The faint curl of smoke from the bronze burner drifted between us, sweet and heavy. Beneath it, something sharper lingered, iron perhaps. The tang of blood, perhaps.

"Calixis is convenient," I continued. "Corruption pools and coagulates here. It certainly saves me travel."
I leaned back, the red silk at my shoulder catching the low lamplight.
"And you need not envy the red. It is the colour of censure. And of execution."
My tone softened. I didn't want to scare her off, not just yet. We were friends, after all.
"Tell me," I said, studying Aurellia's expression with clinical patience, "does envy feel different to you? Or is it simply another sensation you observe in others? I know your psyker status, after all."
I adjusted my cuffs, a small, deliberate movement that had somehow made its merry way into becoming a habit. My old master had chided me for it often. I inclined my head.
"You are disciplined. That is rare for our Ordos."
The faintest ghost of a smile touched my mouth as I sipped my caff.
"I came to Baal because rot grew fastest where power gathered. I preferred my enemies within reach."
My gaze dipped briefly to her posture, the careful placement of her feet and the stillness that was not passivity.
"And I'd wager you are not jealous of my rooms," I went on."You are measuring territory."
I folded my hands in my lap, fingers interlacing without tension.
"Red would suit you, however," I added. "It unsettles people when worn without apology."
A beat of silence settled between us, thick but not uncomfortable.
"Fortunately for us," I said, lifting my glass again, "unsettling people is part of the work, is it not?"

 

[Aurellia Roth]

Aurellia smirked at the comment about the color red, casting her eyes down as she placed her hands upon her knee, interlacing her fingers as she sat up straight and rigid. Red was the color of blood, of death and life.

"Envy is a word, I have read the definition. I understand its meaning, though I do not know how such an emotion feels to others. I imagine only telepaths truly know what an emotion means to someone other than themselves." Aurellia lifted her chin, looking down at the senior Inquisitor.

"Wherever there is wealth, there will be rot. Had the Lord Regent not required turning Baal into an echo of Holy Terra to accommodate the logistics needed for governing the Dark Imperium, Baal would be better off how the Swarm left it." Aurellia said coldly, even knowing the devastation the swarm had wrought, wiping six full chapters of the Blood from existence and the Sons of the Angel only just barely surviving. Still, wastelands did not seek to supplant those in power for its own gain.

"And me? Am I within reach?" She said with a slight rising inflection. The old adage, keep your allies close and your enemies closer. Everyone could be a tool for the Ruinous Powers, not all were manipulated knowingly. More importantly, any Inquisitor wishing to rise through the Conclave in rank would find a ceiling when attempting to surpass the Master. They would think it easier to overthrow than to surpass. "Why the sudden desire to keep me so close?"

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

Why? Because I needed help. Because my team lacked the experience for this sort of operation. Because I was not about to send my people hurtling across the system to face heretics unknown, in circumstances untested, with a strong probability of encountering xenos threats unverified or, worse yet, unimaginable.

"Because I am seconding you to my team. I need as much assistance as I can with a trail I'm on. Even this close to the Regency World, there are perfidious forces at work. I have commandeered a voidship, a company of Baal Auxiliaries, and the rest of my Baal-bound kill-team. We are headed for a large comet, one that sits off the southernmost reaches of Nunc Dimittary."

I did not need to explain that the Adeptus Astra Telepathica array, at the extreme fringes of the Baal system, was the most vital installation of its kind in the Regency-Solar, nay, perhaps in the Nihilus itself. Aurelia would understand the concern, I hoped.

"Xenos-tech hunters. There were reports of Mechanicus vessels making incursions into the area, despite warnings to leave it be."

I sighed. Even though neither Terra nor Mars held any literal sway in our wedge of the Imperium anymore, the old rivalries of the twin empires still loomed. Of course, it was heresy to suggest otherwise, but I kept those thoughts deep and buried. I would add a few extra venerations that evening.

"We believe that the scavengers may have made landfall on the comet. Our partners in the Ordo Xenos are rerouting resources but have asked for us to intercept them. As it pertains to potential Imperium forces going rogue, it does fall squarely under our purview."

I looked at Aurelia, trying to discern what I could from her face. She was a mystery.

"We have call signs, auspex and augur readouts from nearby voidships, military vessels, and data from the Array itself. All in all, we are quite certain they're down there. But for how long they will remain is up to you. Up to us."
I was not above applying a little pressure. Still, I preferred my team to choose the burden.


Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

Aurellia noted a specific word in the explanation, one that struck out at her causing the young woman to frown for just a moment and cast her eyes downward as she listened to the Inquisitor speak.

The mission had merit, it was important to the security of Baal, and thus the survival of the Imperium Nihilus. The Astra Telepathica arrays were vital. The need for action was clear. Inquisitor Vengarov had already set things into motion, gathering resources and information necessary to keep the team from acting blind and walking into a shitstorm.

"While I appreciate your candor and diligence, I hope you will appreciate mine as I offer a clarification on our relationship." Her emerald eyes fell dark, locking onto steely blue eyes. Her expression stern as she spoke, her body stiff. "You lack the authority to command me to your side. I answer to a higher power, as you know. You do not have the right nor purview to claim His resources." As powerful as the Rosette of an Inquisitor, there were yet those more powerful still. Aurellia's loyalty was absolute, her position unique.

She raised a hand to cut off any rebuttal. "On this there is no debate. However, I find myself between responsibilities, and were His agent asked to accompany you as an executive officer, I could make such arrangements for myself and my warband." Aurellia looked down her nose at Cait, pursing her lips as she awaited a response. With politics it was always about appearances and specifics, massaging the egos of one and ensuring the boundaries of another.

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

I did not rise to the provocation.

There had always been something about her that grated, an air of sanctioned exceptionalism. Her master was an ancient remnant of a regime long fractured and half-forgotten, a sovereign in title more than presence, rarely seen, rarely heard. Yet through him she moved with liberties most of her rank could scarcely imagine. She wore that autonomy well. Perhaps too well.

But I did need her.

The truth of the matter was that my other assets were scattered across the void, weeks distant at best. Their arrival was neither guaranteed nor likely to be swift. The trail would not wait for consensus.
I felt something within me settle, like frost forming across water gone suddenly still.

"Of course," I said evenly. "I would never presume to lay claim to what is not mine to claim."

A breath lingered between us.

"The Rosette grants me latitude. But you are correct. I cannot command you."

I held her emerald stare without flinching. It was true: I could command most within the Imperium. I could order a regiment to its death. I could put a bolt round through a Castellan's skull if the evidence demanded it. Authority was not my deficiency.

"But I can insist upon cooperation when the defence of Baal—and by extension Imperium Nihilus—is at stake."

I needed her.

"I did not mean to speak of requisitioning you as one would a voidship or a regiment. If you took my request as such, then I am sorry. It was not my intention."

I inclined my head a fraction, trying to placate her.

"I spoke of offering you a place where your… particular talents would be of consequence."

Silence stretched thin between us. I had to remind myself we were not adversaries here, despite her terseness.

"If your master prefers the designation of executive officer to subordinate, I welcome the distinction."

I allowed that to settle before continuing.

"But if this trail leads where I suspect it does, we will not have the indulgence of debating jurisdiction while xenos artefacts ignite beneath a Regency World."

My voice never rose.

"It is true that I require capable allies. Not possessions. Nor a pet to do my bidding."

A faint, deliberate beat.

"I know you already serve one such master."

I regarded her for a long moment, measuring the flicker behind her eyes.

"If you accompany me, it will not be because I summoned you but because you judged the threat worthy."

I stood, trying to dissipate the uncomfortable feeling in the room. She had taken my offer and weaponised it. She was as deadly as I had imagined she would become.

Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

Aurellia let her smile grow, devious and malevolent as it was as she was answered. A power play, politics at its finest. Her opponent this time had not deigned to specifically ask but had made it clear she was being requested. Turns of phrase meant to pacify, but maintain position and authority in the relationship. There were those that wilted, that could be turned into the subordinate and allow themselves to be overpowered by a lower rank simply because of whose patronage she held.

"No issues of jurisdiction, you are leading the expedition. I your second-in-command." Aurellia stood up as Cait did, smoothing out her jacket and trousers. She did quite enjoy sparring with a capable opponent, even if their goals aligned. But the joust was done, and both could walk away a victor of sorts. The best of outcomes Aurellia could foresee. She nodded her head respectfully to the senior Inquisitor. "I have arrangements to make with haste, then. I shall meet you on the morrow."

Aurellia softened a bit, taking the other woman's hand in hers and meeting her gaze. "Make no mistake, Cait. You can count on me, together we will see this through." She used the woman's first name for the first time, letting their past familiarity and friendship slip through the formalities of power, stoking their shared camaraderie and relative fondness for one another. It was never about glory, Aurellia was rarely rewarded or recognized for her efforts. It was duty to the Throne and to mankind as a whole.

Duty required that she aid Inquisitor Vengarov, protect the Regency-World to the best of her ability. And as always, she would answer the call. She turned to leave, giving Cait one final look over her shoulder, her fiendish smile returning as she did. The coldness and wrongness of her presence letting the mask fade away completely to reveal her true self. Half a soul, at best. "But never insinuate I am anyone's pet again."

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

+++ Ordo Hereticus Data-Log +++
Filed by: Inquisitor Cait Vengarov
Theatre: Baal, Imperium Nihilus
Locale: Hive Primaris-Secondary Space Port, Level 215, Bay 8-Voidship Angel of Death
Seal Level: Internal Archive​

"Inquisitor, I really must protest."

I looked up from my writing desk at my interrogator, his clipped voice slightly reverberating around the dull metal confines of my room on the void ship Angel of Death.

Severian Holt, if I have not mentioned him before, was tall by Regency standards, pushing past six feet, and his posture felt especially tight and buttoned up on this particular instance, his blonde hair almost silver in its brightness, almost luminous in the battlefield context. His arms were folded behind him as if showing great restraint. He was always amusing when he was wound up tightly.

"Protest away, interrogator," I offered, leaning back in my plastek chair. It offered a little comfort but was the best we could manage in the circumstances. Truth be told, there was little comfort to be had in a void ship hurtling through the impossibly black and impossibly cold void.

He bristled a little, clearly ready to recite his practised assertion.

"Roth's dossier is a litany of concerns, Lord Inquisitor."

I was getting the full rank and title. He must have been serious.

"Playing double agent and infiltrating heretical groups, breaking countless Lex, civic disturbances, military crimes. There isn't a single thing I trust about her."

I listened. He was right. There was little to go on other than my faith that she was a loyal servant of the God-Emperor and of the Imperium, the trust that she served her own Inquisitor, as auspicious yet as removed as he is, faithfully.

"Your protestations are noted, interrogator. If they are as such, and you feel unable to carry out your sanctioned duty and what the Regent—nay, the God-Emperor—commands, I will take that into consideration."

He did not break my gaze. He had the fine makings of an Inquisitor, unmoved as he was by my goading.

"I do not question your authority," Holt replied evenly. "Only the necessity. Baal is the Regency world. The Ordo is not thinly spread here. There are dozens of Inquisitorial agents within a single day's reach. Proven assets. Vetted. Known."

"Known," I echoed softly.

He inclined his head once.

"There are countless members of the Ordo present at this hour. We are not bereft of options."

"No," I agreed. "We are bereft of certainty."

I rose from the desk then, not in temper but in deliberation. The lumens caught in the silver of his hair as I stepped closer.

"The others are positioned for broader concerns. Political stability. The defence lattice. The Chapter's recovery. Their attentions are divided. Their loyalties entangled." I paused. "Aurelia's are not."

Holt's jaw tightened, but he did not interrupt.

"She has already walked among heretics. She has already worn the mask and returned intact. She understands infiltration not as theory, but as survival." I folded my hands behind my back. "More importantly, her focus is singular."

"You are placing considerable weight upon one woman's devotion," he said.

"I am placing weight upon alignment," I corrected evenly. "If her attention has fixed upon this particular thread, then it is not by accident. If she believes this trail worthy of her blade, then I must consider that He sees it worthy also."

The silence shifted then. Not broken. Rebalanced.

"I would sooner stand beside one instrument honed precisely for this task," I continued, "than draw upon a dozen polished reputations whose interests are not so cleanly aligned with mine."

Holt regarded me for a long moment. Calculation, restraint, discipline. He would make a formidable Inquisitor one day. Perhaps too formidable.

At last, he inclined his head.

"As you judge, Lord Inquisitor."

"As I judge," I repeated quietly.

I keyed the internal vox without looking away from him.

"Khepra. Halbrecht. Vyn. Kallis. Attend."

They entered in turn.

The team I was running with at that time was one of the best I have ever had. Each was uniquely suited to their role. Each carried their own quips and idiosyncrasies, and I learned to navigate them carefully. That balance ensured we enjoyed operational success for as long as we did.

Khepra's mechadendrites whispered against plasteel, incense and machine oil trailing faintly in his wake. His optics flared briefly as he assessed the chamber.

Halbrecht stepped in next, boots striking the deck with parade-ground precision. The captain of my Scions positioned himself half a pace ahead of the others without appearing to claim it, shoulders squared, chin level, already measuring exits, angles, and threat.

Vyn lingered just behind, eyes unfocused, lips moving faintly as though tasting currents that did not touch the rest of us. His presence that day would prove vital.

Varro Kallis entered last, medicae case fastened at her hip, her gaze passing over hands, stance, and pallor rather than expression. She evaluated the living as though casualties were inevitable. As chirurgeon, her purpose was one I hoped we would not require.

I looked at each of them in turn.

"We will depart from Baal's surface within the hour. Support will be limited. Visibility uncertain. Cooperation is essential."

A pause. I looked at my interrogator, his face like he had chewed a Hussian wasp-nut.

"Explicator Aurellia joins us."

There was the faintest shift in the room. Halbrecht's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Khepra's optics adjusted with a soft click. Vyn's gaze flickered once, as though catching some distant echo.

"Are you ready?" I asked the assembled team. It was Holt that answered.

"For the Emperor," he said evenly.

Halbrecht struck his fist once to his chest plate in acknowledgement. "Scions stand ready, Lord Inquisitor."

Khepra inclined his head in a measured mechanical arc. "Operational readiness at ninety-seven point four percent. Acceptable margins."

Kallis simply nodded. Vyn's voice came last, quiet and thin as a thread drawn taut across the void. "The currents are troubled, my lord. It is well we ascend swiftly."

I let their answers settle.

"Then prepare."

Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

Gideon paced around, the old man anxious and uneasy. He did not know Aurellia's true patron, believing her to be the Explicator underneath an alias known as Lord Inquisitor Pharazon who only contacted his agents by hologram and always disguised. Few who worked as her subordinates knew the truth. Lies within lies, secrets within secrets. The more obscurity the Master shrouded himself in, the more protected his machinations. "And you are sure this isn't another undercover job?"

"Remember, Huron. There is no certainty in what we do." Aurellia sighed as the trio of servitors donned her armor about her muscular frame, applying sacred unguents to the joints as they sealed her within the flexible segmented plates. "However, I do not suspect her of corruption."

The old man let out a soft sigh, continuing to pace around the Explicator as she was fully armored, her equipment harness affixed to her armor and belt. The servitors knelt at her feet, each raising aloft a sealed case. Aurellia opened the fist and placed her right hand into the sleek powerfist, feeling the warmth of the metal, sensing the eagerness of the tiny machine-spirit within to serve her. They had grown accustomed to one another over the years since she had claimed it from the treasure hoard of a Narco-Baron her team had tracked down and upended. The gauntlet sealed about her forearm and her fingers moved within the servo-assisted appendages of the glove.

"How many of us are you taking?" Gideon asked, still pacing behind her as she opened the next case and holstered the heavy bolt pistol that resided within.

"You, Nemesis, and a fire-team from the one-eighty-first. Any more would be cumbersome." The blonde answered as the final case opened and the Autorifle was given over to the Explicator to be slung over her shoulder.

"No Mechanicus expert?" The old man murmured quizzically.

"Hadron is not suited for combat. And I want to keep my numbers limited."

"I'd rather have Rome along than Nemesis."

"Because she scares you?" Aurellia quipped with a slight chuckle as she finished being adorned with her gear. Sleek mottled black and grey, utterly devoid of insignia and identifier, though her pouch possessed magnetic Inquisitorial Icons she could affix whenever the need arose. Around her shoulders she had a small half-cape of chameleoline, tattered from wear and conflict on the edges. On her right hip she carried the large bolt pistol, accustomed to using it with the Power Fist to help brace the significant recoil and compensate for the exaggerated size of the weapon.

"She scares everyone. But no. Because if the Inquisitor's team has any holes in its composition, it won't be one she can fill."

"Not everyone." Aurellia remarked under her breath, now ready for combat, her helm hanging from her belt as she strode past the aging man. Gideon wore simple black fatigues with mesh armor covering his body. He carried a shotgun and chainsword both sheathed on his back, auspex and malocator on his side. His augmetic hand whirred and buzzed as he cracked its knuckles. He fell in line behind the Explicator as she walked. "Who would you replace her with?"

"Tykon or Rome."

Aurellia scowled a bit as the pair strode down the hall, her boots ringing out as she stepped on the metal decking. "With Tykon any chance at stealth is gone. You, Corporal Jannik, Specialist Apone, and Specialist Ferro. Nemesis would be helpful if we run into any unholy entities." She sighed, passing the lurking shadow in the corridor without paying the svelte figure any heed. "But Rome has more use should we encounter anything else. Make sure he is in ready by the time we get to the valkyrie."

"Already had the whole team on standby."

Aurellia smiled at the old man, "Thats why I love you, Huron. Always planning ahead." the pair left the dormitories, walking out onto the flight deck with the gunship idling. A dozen black camouflage armored Tempestus Aquilons were already waiting, along with a hulking figure in ornate power armor, an armored woman a head taller than Aurellia with white hair and a crown of spikes clutching an Eviscerator, and a Skitarii in red robes. Behind the duo slunk the lithe figure of an assassin in a black bodysuit, lurking in Aurellia's shadow like a ghost. Gideon strode ahead of his Explicator, barking orders to the group, telling a handful to stand down and go back to leisure time while he got the chosen group in order for the mission.

"All acolytes present and accounted for madam. We are locked and loaded for bear."

"Rome, anything to add." Aurellia asked the Skitarii Vanguard as she approached the five acolytes.

"No, Madam Explicator." The skitarii was one of Aurellia's favorites for his usually sardonic nature, often telling the group their odds of survival at inopportune moments, as though he took pleasure in seeing their hope drain from their eyes. It did not work on her, and she supposed that was why he had developed a loyalty towards her. All death was certain, after all.

Though in some cases it did not always stick.

The group boarded the Valkyrie and shortly after it rose into the air, speeding them through the spires of Baal towards the rallypoint Inquisitor Vengarov had set for them, just ahead of schedule. Fashionably prompt as Gideon would say.

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

I had always believed that a team revealed itself most clearly in the quiet moments before deployment.

On the surface of it all, we were efficient. Disciplined, a neat bundle of dossiers and call signs arranged beneath the authority of my Rosette. His Rosette. Beneath that polish, however, lay loyalties that required careful management. I convened them in the forward strategium three hours before departure. The chamber was spare by naval standards: hololithic projector, tactical table, lumen strips set into cold metal bulkheads. The void pressed invisibly beyond the hull.

Khepra arrived first. His mechadendrites interfaced with the projector without instruction, binharic cant murmuring as he pulled surface schematics of the comet. He did not look at me. He did not need to. Data for authority. Authority for access.
Halbrecht entered with the quiet certainty of a soldier who knew hesitation cost lives. His Scions fanned out without command, claiming sightlines and exits. He gave me the smallest nod. He distrusted variables.
Vyn took his place slightly apart from the table, fingers resting on its rim as though feeling for a pulse. The air around him seemed fractionally cooler. Despite the Rift and our severance from Terra, those attuned could still feel the Warp's pressure. Chirugeon Kallis arrived last. Her gaze moved across the room, assessing fatigue, tension, breath. She noted Halbrecht's jaw, Vyn's pallor, the faint tremor in my hand. She said nothing.

"This is not a raid," I began. "We may find a cooperative Mechanicus contingent simply fulfilling their remit."

Halbrecht's brow shifted. Khepra paused his data-scroll. Unlikely.

"We are integrating with Explicator Aurellia Roth's detachment. Limited numbers. High autonomy. Unknown overlap in objectives." I let that settle.
"Holt." My interrogator stepped forward. "Lord."

"You will manage liaison. No provocation. No posturing. We are not there to compete."
"Yes, Lord Inquisitor."
Khepra's optics brightened. "Clarify command hierarchy."
I exhaled once. "I retain authority over my personnel. Roth retains authority over hers. Joint decisions where interests intersect."
Halbrecht inclined his head.
"And if interests diverge?"
"Then we will see which of us the Emperor favours."
A flicker of amusement crossed Holt's face. Gone.
We reviewed insertion vectors, vox encryption, overlapping fields of fire. Khepra adjusted frequencies to prevent auspex interference. Halbrecht reassigned a Scion to rear security. Kallis requisitioned additional trauma packs. I checked my chronometer.
"Has Aurellia been summoned?" I asked. It was not like her to be late. I would take it as a slight if I wasn't sure Holt hadn't been playing 'sili-bugs' with her. Her presence was disconcerting for a man who believed rule and order were key to success in the Nihilus.
A glance passed between my team.
"Our Militarum contingent is briefed," Holt offered. I chastised without seeking to humiliate. He would know the difference, of that I was sure. "We bring her in now. Her insight will be invaluable."
I keyed the internal vox. "Explicator Roth. Strategium. We are ready to proceed."

Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

Aurellia sat silently in the antechamber, Gideon continuing to pace about anxiously as the six person team awaited entry into the Strategium. It was a simple power play, a reminder of who held the rosette and who did not in case there was any doubt. One Aurellia noted without concern. It was not the first time she had arrived early only to sit and wait until past appointment time, and it would not be the last. It left her with time to collect her thoughts and analyze the situation objectively without having to hide behind a mask.

So far nothing had occurred that directly indicated any suspicion towards the Inquisitor. Nothing that would mark her for heretic or corruption. However, she may still be attempting to make some move against the old power structures in Imperium Nihilus. Thus far, at least as Aurellia knew, only Master Nero predated the opening of the Great Rift among the Inquisition's membership in Imperium Nihilus. For those seeking change, he presented an obstacle, at least for those who assumed him to be a conservator of the old ways.

Beside her, Rome, officially Rho-Omega-Nine sat tinkering with his dataslate, running over the data from the briefing over and over again, as though it would reveal any new information to him. The former Skitarii Alpha looked up at the vox before it screeched, echoing the machine-riddled voice of Inquisitor Vengarov for them to enter the chamber.

Aurellia entered last, letting her small team go first. Corporal Jannik was a young woman in Tempestus Aquilon uniform, wearing a powersword on her hip. Specialist Apone was an older man of dark complexion carrying a Meltacarbine as his primary weapon, with Specialist Ferro a short statured man carrying the squad vox-caster. Then entered Rome with his twin pistols holstered at his hips, and Gideon with his shotgun and chainsword. The five of the warband entered and spread out, flanking Aurellia as she approached with expressionless stare, taking in the small band of Vengarov's team.

"Good." Aurellia said with a nod to the Inquisitor. "Please continue, Inquisitor."

Cait Vengarov

 

[Cait Vengarov]

I inclined my head a fraction as Explicator Roth entered, acknowledging her presence without ceremony.
"Explicator. Your timing is precise."
My gaze moved briefly across her escort as they settled into the chamber. Tempestus discipline, Mechanicus augmentation, and a scattering of specialised talent. Efficient choices.
Good.
I gestured to the hololith. Khepra responded instantly, the projection resolving into the slow rotation of the comet in cold green lines of cogitator light.
"This is our target body," I said. "Designation Sigma-Vhal Nine. A minor debris object captured by Baal's outer gravitic tides roughly six months ago."
The comet turned slowly before us, a jagged mass of ice, mineral seams, and fractured rock.
"No defence installations detected," I continued. "Our augur sweeps and external auspex arrays show no significant weapons signatures, no void shields, and no concentrated power emissions."
Halbrecht spoke without looking away from the projection.
"That means either they are not expecting company," he said evenly, "or they are hiding."
"Quite," I replied.
Khepra extended a mechadendrite and two runic markers appeared on the comet's surface.
"Two locations of interest," I said.
The first marker flashed against a towering ridge of broken rock.
"Site One. Surface level. A natural formation large enough to conceal excavation activity. Spectral returns suggest metallic density beneath the rock structure."
Khepra magnified the image. The formation resembled a jagged crown rising from the comet's surface.
"Possible xenos alloy signatures," he added in his thin mechanical tone. "Confidence margin forty-one percent."
The second marker pulsed deeper within the comet.
"Site Two," I continued. "Subsurface. Approximately three hundred metres below the crust. Thermal anomalies detected intermittently over the past forty-eight hours."
Halbrecht folded his arms.
"Meaning they're active."
"Meaning something is," I corrected.
The projection dimmed slightly as Khepra overlaid environmental data.
"Atmosphere negligible," I said. "Trace particulates only. Rebreathers mandatory at all times. Gravity fluctuates between point one and point two standard."
I moved my hand to the centre of the strategic map.
"The voidship will set down here."
A third marker appeared near the midpoint between the two sites.
"A designated landing zone identified during orbital survey. Flat ice shelf. No obvious geological instability."
Halbrecht leaned forward slightly.
"Too convenient."
"Yes," I said.
I allowed the word to hang in the air.
"It may already be compromised. We proceed accordingly."
My gaze shifted to Aurellia.
"My preference is simple. We land as a single force. Establish a secure perimeter. From there we divide into two investigative teams."
I gestured briefly to the two markers.
"One team for the surface formation. One for the subsurface anomaly."
Khepra added a faint data overlay.
"Internal structures at Site Two are unknown. Tunnelling or vertical descent likely required."
Kallis spoke for the first time since Aurellia entered.
"Confined environment," she said calmly. "Injuries will be difficult to extract."
Halbrecht gave a small nod.
"Surface team secures landing zone and rock formation. Subsurface team investigates the deeper signal."
I looked back to Aurellia.
"You and I will decide which of us takes which objective."
A faint smile touched my mouth.
The hololith continued its slow rotation between us, the silent comet drifting through green light like a waiting wound

Aurellia Roth

 

[Aurellia Roth]

Aurellia listened to the breakdown, taking in the tactical and logistical analysis quietly while Inquisitor Vengarov detailed the situation with the large comet. It was not quite a planetoid, but it was large enough to be considered a space station, traveling through the dark void until about six months ago before it began a slow descent through the system towards Balor.

She mused for a long moment before replying, with a slow measured voice. "Site two would fit my current forces better as Site one will require greater numbers than the six of us to secure." She tapped on a datapad to change the hololithic display to zoom in on the readouts from Site Two, astronomical data streaming in a series of lines beside the blinking zone.

"We can descend via Valkyrie Sky Talon carrying our squad and the Termite to our drilling point. The risk is, with my team's current size, Rome is our only technical advisor. If he is incapacitated, we would not be able to complete our mission." She pursed her lips and green eyes flicked from each of the Inquisitor's acolytes, assessing them each quickly before moving to the next. "I fear the same of your own team if Khepra is slain. I was not expecting to split our forces so soon however."

She began, stalking around the hologram table. "As your XO for this mission," Her eyes locked on Severian Holt, Inquisitor Vengarov's Interrogator who in theory outranked Aurellia, but for the practical applications of this mission had been passed over for the Explicator to fill the role as Second-in-Command, "I would be remiss not to voice concerns about being," She paused a moment, letting the man draw whatever conclusions he desired about her intentions before her eyes returned to rest on Cait. "Removed from your command. Together we have redundancies. Apart, we have lynchpins whose loss results in immediate failure."

"Of course, if you insist, I will make best effort to handle the investigation at Site Two."

Cait Vengarov