Some Character Sketches

[OwlandMoonGuy]

Just some character development & a point in time along a much longer storyline. Looking for whatever feedback anyone would care to give me. And yes, it’s a very drafty draft so I’m sure there’s many a minute detail that’s worth addressing.

 

All that being said, I hope you enjoy, -OMG

 

 

It was not the kind of emergency with flashing lights and the threat of decompression but near to it by all accounts. The master had buzzed us in our respective staterooms well before lights-on and shouted out our orders in turn. Mine were not atypical but unusual at the same time. He instructed me to bring the portable sensorum rig with medium range servoskulls but also the Inquisitorial jamming kit along with it. Usually such gear was only required when you feared that corruption had found a high place in the Imperial power structure. I would later come to discover how Inquisitor Cimcigar Leach could also use it as a negotiating tool. Being an Interrogator myself, it was my sworn responsibility to be aware of these things. No opportunity for learning could pass me by.

 

To add more to the air of mystery, our master ordered Malay to prep the gunship over his more lavish shuttle. Unlike many of his peers, Leach was a flagrant man and usually preferred to travel stylishly. We all showed up on the flight deck, forming up into a lacks, uneven row. None of the others offered to help me with the gear other than Oddfellow, my personal servitor who didn’t have much of a say in the matter. The dingy grey of the launch deck was already filled with smoke from the gunship’s drives. You could barely see Malay in the command pod, feverishly prepping for launch.

 

It was so common a sight to see us together like this it almost was invisible to me now. I caught the glint off the metallic muzzle of a long bore grenade launcher. I noted that my counter-Interrogator, Bellard was overdressed as usual. The planet beneath us was an arid waste and he come dressed for a Terran formal. He waved an irritated hand before his face as if such an action could sweep the smoke from his eyes.

 

Leach entered the room with a flurry and wide billow from his cloak. His eyes were cast downward as he approached, plainly revealing the broad, =][= tattoo that covered his shaved head. His chains, trinkets & charms clapped together in a symphony of clanging rhythms as he walked. Peering under his thick brow he gave us all a quick inspection. “Rylie,” he said loud over the sound of the engines. “I said bring the long barrel not that child’s toy.” Rylie was dressed in a charcoal grey body suit that even covered his neck & head, all pocked with little pouches filled with various instruments and ammunition. He stood proud with his brightly polished, military issue long las but apparently that was not the weapon he was told to bring. He was the newest agent in Leach’s crew and he still had some learning in front of him. Like, how to derive what the master wants from within the broad inference of what he says. With a deflated look Rylie replied,

 

“Inquisitor, I was only-“

 

“Only failing me,” snapped back Leach’s reply. “Get your long bore and rush back. You’re wasting our time.” Rylie hadn’t learned when to keep his mouth shut either. “Mr. Lochschmei?” Leach asked.

 

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

 

“You’ll now have less than fifteen minutes to have your array in place. You can thank Mr. Darrow for the time crunch.”

 

“I’ll manage my’lord,”

 

“You’ll do better,” Leach looked up at the gunship and squinted through the oily exhaust cloud. He caught Malay’s eyes, nodded and then turned back to us. “Get on board and make sure that Rylie’s left with the most uncomfortable seat. Better yet, make him stand. Maybe reentry will knock some sense into him.”

 

No one even cracked a grin at Leach’s levity. If you were to progress in the company of Inquisitor Leach you learned quickly how to read his moods and learned quicker still that he was psi alert enough to sniff out lies like spoiled food. The three of us that were left (four including Oddfellow) shuffled onboard. We let Bechcloon go first, it’s always best to let an abhuman get settled as opposed to being crushed as they push past you. Bellard went right after him in a petty show of rank.

 

We collectively only knew that the planetary body below us was called as Uresties S-3, a celestial naming convention that hadn’t been used in over a thousands of years. We were several jumps away from anything resembling a conventional shipping lane and there were no signs of life on this planet or on any of the other orbital forms in the system. For those who were listening to the shipmaster’s channels in their staterooms they may have caught the announcement that another ship had entered high orbit several hours after we arrived. Though they didn’t reveal its configuration I did hear that it was an Imperial ship and military nonetheless. As familiar as I am with all Navy protocols, this must be something of a clandestine meeting. Not only did the new arrival fail to identify itself when entering the system, it also failed to provide any standard credentials as well.

 

After we strapped in, amber light flooded the launch deck heralding our departure. Rylie came running up the gangway at full tilt, his enormous Astartes long bore clutched to his chest. The murderous weapon was a retrofit elite issue that had its chambers and barrel expanded to accommodate special bolt rounds. It had a slow feed but wasn’t intended for sustained fire. One-shot & one kill was Rylie’s charge and this tool made him a real man killer. Between that and Bechcloon cradling his oversized grenade launcher one would assume that Leach was expecting a fight. And yet, his posture, candor, attitude all contradicted this conclusion. Was it all for show? Some audiences were impressed with dress uniforms, apparently this visitor was more impressed with a different badge of office.

 

The jets roared and the sudden drop of the retention field flung us into space. Through our small ports we could see the Melancholic slip away before Malay turned us shoreward. A galaxy of stars spun past the windows until all we could see was the inky meaninglessness of space. The thrusters shook us in our seats as we got underway. That is all of us but Riley who was forced to hold on for dear life without losing grip on his impressive weapon.

 

As clouds began appearing outside the ship, Leach produced a dataslate and unlocked it with his Inquisitorial signet. His face lit pale green with its glow for a brief flicker. Tapping the micovox in his left ear he said, “Malay, I just sent our last leg waypoint to navigation. When we get there, set us down on the east side of the rock wall. You’ll see clearly when we get closer. Give me a call and I’ll tell you exactly where to land.”

 

“Acknowledged,” came her quick reply. The gunship lurched with the scorching pain of descent. The buffeting came to a sharp crescendo when her subsequent call came a few moments later.

 

Leach had selected a landing site along the base of a cliff directly behind a row of blown out Imperial bunkers. Their octagonal shapes looked like dull green crystal formations among the foothills. They were ancient by anyone’s measure; constructed for a battle that must have been fought on these barren plains in the distant past. Most likely the reason they were barren plans to begin with. After the gunship came to a rest, we deployed a combat speed, dismounted and followed Leach’s lead into one of the more intact structures. Bechcloon & Rylie made a quick sweep and then gave us the go-ahead, the business end of their hardware leading the way. After Leach confirmed the, “all’s clear” the rest of us shuffled in behind them.

 

With the little time I had, I got down to the charge I was given. Oddfellow was sophisticated enough to drop the gear and get it clamped into place but no more. I set about the Mechanicum blessing and initial startup scripts. My maroon sleeves appeared almost black in the unlit interior. The white checks on the trim held a pale glow of their own. When my sensorum rig was setup and the servoskulls dispatched, the readings I received went right off the charts. It took some extra calibration to find the appropriate range. There was so much metallic content in the surrounding area that I thought at first we were on some kind of rich, ore deposit. I came to find that it was from all the eroded ammo cases and battered war gear that littered the eastern plain before us.

 

Like the others we saw from the sky, the bunker we occupied was octagonal with an oppressively low ceiling. Its contents had been stripped out ages ago. The walls were rockcrete grey, sparse and crackled slightly when exposed to a rad counter. I was uneasy enough being here under unknown circumstances but that discovery chilled me to the core. The planet’s white sun was setting just across the deserted expanse before us, casting long tan shadows through the weapon slits carved into the bunker’s eastern walls. The usual landing crew had all taken up their positions, including my master, the esteemed Inquisitor Cimcigar Leach.

 

He stood in a dark patch between weapon slits and stared off onto the horizon. He wore is long hexagramic robe, covered with a wild menagerie of symbols, wards & glyphs. Layers of chains bearing similar charms piled up on his neck along with bracelets, anklets and many other dangling places. His apparel was all draped over some thin-line flack armor making him appear significantly larger than he was. His oversized, Semeter snub-las was strapped to his hip, snapped tight in an elaborate holster. It was all much, much more overt than Leach usually dressed. In fact he was hardly ever so decked out. Yet another tip that this mystery landing was well out of the ordinary.

 

Never far behind him, and stooping in the cramped interior was, Bechcloon the abhuman. Though anyone else would call him an Ogryn he hated the term. His hulking shape thankfully blocked the piercing glare from the sun. I’d have been staring right into it otherwise. His back was covered by an olive drab sack full of explosive rounds, along with double bandoliers strapped across his chest. He hefted the custom broad barreled grenade launcher in both hands. The thing was more like a one man mortar then a wide barreled RPG. Whenever he chanced a look over at the master I could catch the pale blue of his large eyes beneath the unkempt outcropping of hair over his brow.

 

Riley had taken the opposite flank. His elite bolter was pushed out a thin weapon slit while he scanned the area through his augsite. He hadn’t gone to the trouble of wiring it in yet. I wasn’t the only one who thought the gear was just for show. He was down on one knee, almost betraying how short he was. He barely stood sixteen decameters in full armor. I respected Riley for his skill and thick skin but he had no place in the Agency. He just didn’t have the instinctive wherewithal for survival. Bechcloon and I had given him less than five years tops before making the critical mistake that sent him on to his rewards.

 

Malay was somewhere behind me, most likely bored at this point. She was a sleek and slender youth who would have been considered attractive if it weren’t for the crude augmetics on her face. Both eyes had been replaced as well as parts of both legs. Combat pilots were hard to come by away from the fleet. Though not “combat worthy” by Naval standards I’d trust her in a pinch over any of the pilots we had before. And Leach did have a reputation of being hard on pilots. He gave Malay a lot of props compared to the others but she’s earned them.

 

My counterpart, Bellard, anxiously fiddled & mumbled in the darkness. Of us all he knew the least patience and at such times it was readily apparent. Like myself, he was robbed in the traditional uniform of an Interrogator, whereas mine displayed my allegiance with Mars, his merits related to the Inquisitorial territory of the Moren Awhey-Sub. It also noted his level three status vs. my level two; a discrepancy I’d been desperate to correct. His round head bobbed up and down as he complained? Prayed? Lost control of his inner voice? It was hard to tell with him. Other than our Inquisitor he was the only one that was psi altert. I envied him that more than I would ever let on but I was beginning to think that it was more of a curse than a blessing. The Inquisitor seemed to be at peace with what he was but not Bellard. His slightly precognitive and clairvoyant sense seemed to have made him a bit touched. Even after being trained by the Ordo, he was more self abhorrent than accepting. The voices in his head must seem like sitting in a darkened theater filled with whispers while being entertained by disconcerting visions. Or so I imagined what it must be like for him.

 

Green runes started flashing on my console. The servoskulls hard completed their widest circle and were starting to report back. When the fifth one winked on I finally broke the silence. “I’ve completed the sweep my Lord,” I said, speaking quietly, “Nothing but abandoned bunkers and empty waste for kilometers all around us.”

 

“Yesterday’s graveyard.” The Inquisitor replied, stretching a kink his thick neck. His bald head shone briefly in the late evening light. From this vantage I could just make out the =][= tattoo that covered his head. His voice came deep and controlled and made all of us feel a bit more secure. Well, perhaps not all of us, Bellard chose that time to spout off,

 

“Maybe if we were more in your confidence lord, we’d be better able to serve you at times like these.” Bechcloon gave a gruff exhale while Rylie and Malay held to their usual silence. Our master, in his own fashion, remained inwardly focused, almost oblivious to Bellard’s ruse. I had to crack a smile, it frustrated my counterpart even more. I checked and double checked all the connections to my makeshift sensorum array. My black & white checkered sleeves reflected the light from the green monitors. Full sweeps where coming back to me sub-second now. In my career, I had made a very calculated risk when pursuing both the Adeptus and Interrogator paths. Bun when fortune gave me an ideal teacher I couldn’t let the chance slip by.

 

“Word from the Melancholic?” Leach asked, absently over his shoulder.

 

“No lord,” I read the illuminated report before me without thinking. “the Shipmaster’s log reads normal. They are still tracking the Imperial ship at high anchor but since the squadron of landers was dispatched there’s been no activity.” Bellard rolled his eyes hearing this and began shuffling more fervently back and forth across the floor. The update hit home for everyone, myself included. It was Malay’s turn to speak up,

 

“They must have landed a good ways from here; there was nothing on the bird’s scope when we put down.” Malay always did know how to choose her words wisely. Another reason she was a best fit for our esteemed Inquisitor.

 

“That’s their way, “Leach said, “Redundant, regimented, always at least two of them so someone’s there to watch their backs. Cautious to a fault.” With black shadows crossing his face, the master turned and gave each one of us a sharp look with one exception. He shared a knowing glance with Bechcloon who laughed in response, more like chortle in his guttural, adhuman way. “Once they’ve gotten a good scan of the area they’ll be along.”

 

An amber light pulsed to life and readouts flooded onto my display. “The sensorum is tracking two squadrons of low flying aircraft headed toward our location at high speed.” It took me a quick moment to lock in their coordinates. “The first group will reach us in two point five-four minutes.”

 

“Are we getting an Imperial transponse?,” Leach asked.

 

“Confirmed,” I replied the instant I completed the decryption. “They are Astartes class, 2-man speeders, three speeders per squad.” As the datastream flowed into my kit and directly into my augmetic feeds the words came automatically to my lips. “They are armed with an assortment of medium to heavy ordinance. Arms are at the ready but their targeting systems have not been engaged.”

 

“And that would be them,” Leach added standing to his full height and brushing the dust from his robes. Bechcloon looked at the horizon intently, out over that endless sea of sand and debris. Malay got to her feet and took some short controlled steps toward the back door. It didn’t take much to conclude that they had come for a meeting with the Adeptus Astartes, in all their glorious flourish. I figured that this might be the first time any of the others had ever seen a Space Marine in person. Just another way the Emperor had chosen to bless my path well beyond theirs.

 

I looked up and stretched to see out past the empty weapon nests. “There they are,” I said pointing. A dust cloud appeared in the wavy lines of heat rising from the planet’s surface. Nothing could be clearly seen, just the brownish plume backlit by that pale sun. Bechcloon gave another animal grunt and stood his ground. Following our master’s lead, Bellard began straightening his garb as well. I kept my attention on the instruments. That was the role Cimcigar had given me and I wouldn’t shirk it.

 

At their great speed, small dark shapes quickly became visible as the cloud grew. Some of them broke off sharply from the others creating a dust wall that made off to our left. Only when the first group was right on top of us could we hear their engines. They were squarish shaped vehicles with two armored occupants seated side-by-side. Through the blur of speed and dust their insignia wasn’t clearly visible. The lead squadron roared a wide arching circle around the bunker where we took refuge. Within seconds the outlying dust blasted into the wide weapon slots. Leash forced out a look of composure.

 

My scope was alight with the incoming probes from the speeders. I coughed up some of the dust now swirling past me. As fast as they came, we heard the warcraft back off leaving our ears ringing and our eyes smart with the sting of dust in the air. With a look of futility on his curt face, Leach addressed us, shouting over the noise,

 

“Malay, stay with the gunship. The rest of you, follow me.” I let a surprised look slip out despite myself. I half noticed that Oddfellow had done so also. Our place was usually with the gear. There must be a call for two interrogators to be present at this juncture. Leach made his way out the back, the only way in or out, and hefted his way around the outer wall of the bunker. Per our tradition, we let Bechcloon go first and then filed out after him.

 

The bright outdoors stabbed our eyes and we all spat the grit from our mouths. A quick scan of the skies revealed that the speeders had taken up opposing positions, effectively surrounding us. Moving like sidewinders, they hovered with their weapons trained in our direction. Bechcloon started to growl but was silenced by a glare from the master. We trudged out into the shifting earth, past the bunker as the second group of speeders slowed to a stop before us. Their exhaust was still blowing up dust and debris but we could make them out clearly now. Their heraldry as a spilt theme, half red and the other black, which applied to all their wargear, from the speeder’s hulls to their own Astartes armor. Though I’d never met them first hand, I heard the master speak of them often. They were marines of the Angels Sanguine Chapter, a second founding successor of the Angelic Primarch’s IX’th legion. They were a very old and highly honored Chapter. I couldn’t help but watch my compatriots’ reaction as they encountered Space Marines for the first time, especially these marines.

 

One speeder moved closer to us than the others. The passenger in the gunner’s seat stood up to full height and so doing stretched my understanding of what it meant to be augmented. He was a mountain of a man even by Astartes’ standards. Unlike the others, his armor was all black and he helm was molded into the image of the holy Imperator Calvariorum or a human skull to the less informed onlooker. Even those with a cursory knowledge of the Space Marines knew that he was a Chaplain by role. He held aloft his Crozius Archanum which served as both his badge of office as well as a potent energy weapon. Measuring roughly a meter, the burnished rod ended with the Imperial Aquila, interposed with another Calvaria in the center.

 

There was a true majesty wrapped about him that all recognized. It was quite a first impression. We were all a bit awed by it. Even Leach was caught staring and this wasn’t a first encounter for him.

 

The lead speeder blew out a bare patch beneath it as it came to a halt. It reviled me to see that only a few inches beneath the surface the field was an expanse of corpses. Yellow human bones mixed with xeno; dry, crusted, decayed remnants of those that came to a bitter end here in the forgotten swirls of the past. No wonder Leach called this place, “yesterday’s grave.”

 

The imposing Chaplain looked about to the hovering speeders and waved his crozius in a mailed fist. He dismounted the craft by literally marching down its hood and dropping several feet to the ground below. Old bones burst and splintered under his metallic feet. Boldly and alone, the marine lowered his weapon and stepped toward us. With the exception of Bechcloon, our heads steadily leaned back as he approached.

 

“Emperor protect you Grand Inquisitor Leach,” spoke the marine, his voice amplified through the mask of his armor. “Nice of you to actually show up this time.”

 

“Well met my friend!” Leach yelled back over the noise and wind of war machines. With a slight smile he added, “Do you mind turning down your engines so we can make the most of it?” The tall Chaplain gave a casual look over to his troops and said something inaudible behind his mask. The closest speeder shut down their engines and came to a bobbing hover before them. The gunner marines from the two speeders further back dismounted and made haste in perfect unison. They both ran forward, breaking out their massive assault bolters, to flank the towering Chaplain. They stood at least 10’feet tall in their bulky armor and yet their Chaplain was a full head taller.

 

“Been promoted of late my friend,” Leach asked now at a normal tone of voice.

 

“What is that?” The Chaplain asked in reply.

 

“You travel with body guards these days? Does your Chapter deem your body so valuable?” The towering Chaplain leaned forward and stretched his free hand back behind his helmet. With a well rehearsed gesture he popped the atmosphere seal, venting gas into the air. A taught pull removed it from his head. The marine’s features formed a chiseled icon of the ideal masculine image. His hair was raven black, slightly graying at the temples. His complexion was smooth and unscarred. His eyes were piercing, serious, devout, ominous. He was in all ways most unexpected.

 

“It’s not like you came alone either,” the Chaplain said while fastening his helmet at his hip. And considering all the hardware someone must value your body as well.” The wind swept up, blowing the Chaplains hair in his eyes.

 

“My companions,” Leach began with a broad wave of his arms, “I present to you the Hero Chaplain Arrassmus of the highly esteemed Angels Sanguine. He is honored well beyond what you may imagine so you would do well to treat him as you would the Emperor himself.” We all uneasily shifted our gaze between Leach and our newly arrived guests. For the first time I wished that Leach had done more to prepare us for this.

 

Scanning over us, the Chaplain’s eyes fell on Rylie’s sniper rifle. “Like that,” he said pointing. “Quite the arm for a bodyguard. It’s an Astartes weapon.” Rylie gave a quick look at Leach and then shifted his gaze forward. “It’s a significant honor to bear such a weapon. How did you come by it?” Rylie found it difficult to muster much of a response. I had to smile to myself. After a quick swallow he spoke up,

 

“It was recovered from a battlefield, sir,” he said shifting his gaze between Arrassmus and Leach. “Then blessed for dedication to the Assassinorium, sir.”

 

Arrassmus nodded slightly and gave him a narrow glare, “Bear it well, Inquisitorial agent…”

 

“Rylie Darrow, sir.”

 

Nodding Arrassums said, “Bear it well in his service.” Rylie could only express his obvious insecurity in reply. He was a very new agent and he had never seen real Astartes before. I’m sure he’ll never forget them.

 

“To our business Arrassmus?” Leach interrupted.

 

Nodding again, the Chaplain replied, “Let’s to it then. How may my Chapter serve the Inquisition?”

 

“On the contrary,” Leach interrupted, “I’m here to serve you.” Before Arrassmus could reply, Leach turned and addressed us. “All of you stay out here, except Lochschmei, you come with me.” Leach turned and began trudging back toward the bunker. Arrassmus gave us each a look and stopped briefly on me. The crew fidgeted beneath his gaze and thought hard, second guessing the encounter. I let Arrassmus walk pass me along with the two flanking marines as well.. Their red & black armor was off colored by the sand & grit that blew about them. As the one nearest me passed, the barrel of his Bolt gun went by at head level. It was like staring down the barrel of a tank. A dark tunnel where death had taken residence with a ghoulish desire to be let free. I then took after them, taking at least two strides for every one of theirs. I felt like a child chasing after his parents in the sand at the same time repulsed by the thought of the dead beneath my feet.

 

When we reached the back entrance to the bunker, Arrassmus commanded his brother marines to flank the entry while Leach & I ducked in. The marines complied without a word. I knew the near limitless extents of Astartes discipline but this was a shade more so based on my past observations. I had to check myself. I was already impressed with this man, Arrassmus but was that awe more like worship than an objective appraisal? There was little time for contemplation.

 

“Lochschmei,” my master commanded, “get the jammer running. And pay attention,” he added with a cross look,” tell me if you detect anyone trying to break in.” I almost questioned the instruction but knew better. I nodded my compliance and got to work on the gear. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I was surprised to see both Leach & Arrassmus sit cross legged on the floor. The ceiling was far too low for a Space Marine so the tall Chaplain was forced to duck down, even in a seated position. His armor was so much like a second skin to him. Runes came up on my display and I gave Leach another nod when the jammers fell into place.

 

“Arrassmus,” he began, “It’s good to be able to speak freely. Thank you for coming I realize the time was far from convenient.”

 

“It’s a stop worth making when you choose to honor it. So be frank with me. Why arrange this if not to induct the Chapter?”

 

“I’m here for you Arrassmus,” Leash said while leaning back into a more comfortable position. “You have a new war to fight. One you are not so well equipped at fighting.” The Space Marine did not hold back the cross tone in his voice.

 

“Come now, you know me too well. Whether traitor or alien or any of our enemies, I’ve faced them all and – “

 

“Not like this,” Leach interrupted. “Not like this at all.” My master looked over at me and I gave him another nod. The two floating skulls had taken up an orbital pattern around the bunker. The jammers were working without any indication of intrusion. After a brief pause, he continued, “The inquiry into the Hullus-Koré incident has concluded and it didn’t fare well for you.” Arrassmus’ expression fell for the first time. He kept his composure but seemed more contemplative then before.

 

“The Inquisition was represented at my trial,” Arrassmus stated gravely. “I was pronounced innocent. The Pan-Hellenic host of Chapters cleansed my name. What more does the Inquisition want of me?”

 

“My Ordo has cleared you Arrassmus or I wouldn’t be here now.” Seldom does Leach appear sympathetic but this was one of those times. “There was another tribunal held concerning that incident. A tribunal of Inquisitorial Lords. My superiors praised your actions as they will but the Ordo Hereticus felt differently.”

 

“Leach,” the marine’s voice boomed louder. “That occurred over two centuries ago. It took almost 150 years to come to trial. My actions were exonerated before my Chapter Master and my peers!” Leach looked gravely into the face of his friend.

 

“His justice moves wide and slow and none escape it.” Leach said quoting.

 

“His justice was metered out on the fields of Hullus-Koré!”

 

“My friend. The O.H. leaders of the Bhathist and Hadrian Sub have declared you a heretic. High ranking members of the order have pledged to purge you or die in the attempt. Even now they scour the sector looking for evidence of your fleet.” Their words hovered in space before them. When their weight had finally culminated, the Hero Chaplain went crestfallen. As shocked as I was at my first impression I was doubly shocked now. His clear eyes were wounded to their depths, absently staring in contemplation. I was unaware of the specific surgeries associated with a Space Marine’s eyes. I always assumed that the tear ducts were altered or that their reconditioning had rendered them emotionless. The giant man did not weep but the sorrow I read on his face at that moment was boundless. After an unending pause, he spoke,

 

“Her Ladyship Templeton Clarisse?” Arrassmus asked.

 

“None other,” Leach replied in a low but serious tone. “She’s vowed both repentance & recompense and has already set forth with her fellows’ blessing.” They gave each other a weighted look. “They’ve appointed you for the fire my friend.”

 

“She is considered a living saint,” Arrassmus added absently.

 

“That she is. Loved by the millions she’s set free from heretical bondage. If a Blood Angel had accomplished what she has, they would have earned the title Hero as well.”

 

“So Hero must face Hero?” Arrassmus asked.

 

“His will is broad and strange my friend. And for you his will is so very broad and equally strange.”

 

My eyes widened when my instruments first caught a thin spectrum invasion attempt. My fingers darted over the controls as I whispered prayers to the machine god for wisdom.

 

“Lochschmei?” Leach asked as he caught my flustered action.

 

“Yes master,” I came back. “I have detected three separate, tight-focused attempts to penetrate this room. The skulls have blocked each one but they are sampling over the entire Imperial range. Sir,” I looked up for a breathless moment, “It must be-“

 

“Yes it must be,” Leach focused back on his guest. “There is your proof Arrassmus. I can block out all standard Imperial probes save those employed by chambers militant. Those must be from agents of the OH if not from Clarisse herself.”

 

“They’re here?” Arrassmus asked, raising his voice. “But ours are the only ships in the system.”

 

“Lochschmei, who’s scanning us?”

 

“Working,” I said quickly, I tried three separate methods but none could divine the point of origin. “Triangulation failed, sir, and three more attempts detected. I’m still confident that they haven’t deciphered the jammer.”

 

“There’s no time Arrassmus,” Leach began with almost a shout. What I am about to tell you I cannot repeat. Hear this once and once only.” The great Chaplain looked to Cimcigar with an expression I could only assume to be bewilderment. “You only have one recourse Arrassmus. You must kill Inquisitor Templeton. Do you understand me? You must kill her.” The Chaplain’s face furrowed.

 

“You’d have me kill a beloved saint? The Emperor’s servant?” Arrassmus asked, “How much shame would you heap on me Leach?”

 

“Be real Arrassmus.” There were times when Leach could speak with the authority of the Throne itself. “There is but faith in the Emperor and all else is heresy. Kill Clarisse and her Ordo will trust that it was the Emperor’s will. We Inquisitors establish truth in its passing. Her death would prove that she was wrong and that her faith must have waivered. Kill her and no one will ever challenge you over this again.”

 

Their eyes held each other fast. In a defeated tone, Arrassmus spoke, “So tell me then Leach. Tell me what I must do.”

 

“When you kill her, don’t do it in a public place. Leave your mark on the kill but take no glory in it. Don’t enter it into your Chapter’s annuls nor ever speak of it again. The Inquisition must never doubt that she died by your hand but must never perceive that you gloried in it. Do you understand me? You can never glory in this.”

 

“Trust me Inquisitor,” the Chaplain said as gravely as ever a word was spoken. “there’s no glory to be had.”

 

“I’ve prevented five more intrusion attempts m ‘lord.” I broke in, “I have all confidence that our protection is holding. But it’s only a matter of time. They could break through any --” Once said, I glanced up from my consol to find the Chaplain staring at me. It was a vacant, calculating stare and his right hand had a grip on the shaft of his croizius. Truth be told, my blood ran thin and sweat literally leapt from my brow. His eyes were so vacuous. It was a look that only an augmented killer could muster when systematically contemplating another man’s death.

 

“Don’t concern yourself with him,” Leach said. “He’s one of my interrogators and loyal to me to the death. He won’t breathe a word of this to anyone, including my other staff.” My knees weakened and I felt the urge to flee. “Tell him Lochschmei! Assure him of your loyalty.”

 

“I…,” tried to speak, “I…,” could only fumble for words. A red rune flashed up on my receiver and Oddfellow jumped up with surprise.

 

“They’ve broke through,” Leach shouted. “Take your men and get off this planet!” The grim Chaplain looked back at Leach his breath coming in shallow heaves. Leach took a step towards him and shouted like a Karskin drill sergeant, “GO!” With two flat, metallic stomps, the space marine was on his feet. Without another word, he marched his hunched form over to the rear entry and swept out of the bunker. Leach spun on his heels and ran to the nearest weapon slit. From that vantage, he watched intently. Over the next few minutes, the sound of the speeder engines wound up and then passed away, leaving only a fresh cloud of dust to billow into the open cracks of the bunker.

 

Leach let go a long breath and produced an odd cylinder from among the many charms dangling around his neck. He gave it a light touch with his finger and my red flashing rune went black. Startled, I began running diagnostics on the system. Try as I might I had completely lost the signal. The servo skulls were silent. No other intrusion attempts were evident.

 

“My lord?” I asked sheepishly but he waved his hand at me like I was an irritating child. In his defense it was clear enough to fathom and I wasn’t entirely dim. We stood in silence for a long, hovering period. “But my Inquisitor, what have you done?” Leach spun, giving me a stabbing look.

 

“I did what was necessary and I succeeded.” Rylie & Bechcloon stuck their heads around the corner and peered in at us. “All of you,” Leach shouted, “get back to the ship. We’re going.” In a flurry, I recalled the skulls and began tearing down the kit. Thank the Omnisiah for Oddfellow. He was the only one to offer me any assistance His jagged mechanical arms clamped down on the heavy sensor and bore it with ease.

 

The flight back was silent and more perplexing than the trip down. More questions were raised but never found a voice. We of Leach’s retinue allowed our master his silent time. When we were back aboard the Melancholic, Leach sped off to his stateroom without saying a word. Once there he have command to the Shipmistress to get underway and spent some time dispatching encrypted messages with the ship’s psychic choir.

 

In the months that followed, Leach was far from himself. It was far more brooding and sullen. His formally verbose and exacting orders were reduced to short sentences and condescending glances. It was about then that the outbreak of Synclaviar did he return to, himself. Noting like the treat of a new enemy to focus his thoughts. I didn’t hear mention of the, “Hero Chaplain” again for almost a year after that estranged meeting. And to this day, for me it’s a name that lives in more infamy than fame.