The Lesser Evil (WH40K)

Disclaimer: I did not write this story. This was a RP that mutated into a story when the GM fleshed out the parts. I read the whole thing on a Word document and liked it a lot. I do not gain anything from this and only wish to see this story in its entirety archived somewhere online for fellow Warhammer 40k fans to read and discuss.

I'd like to acknowledge the authors (the people who played the RP and the GM);

LT Bradford

Dakkagor

Ixajin

Felwether

Sand Queen

2 Heads Talking

Cleal Baros

No-One

Lord General Armstrong

Farseer Matt

This story was posted with the permission of the GM, Farseer Matt. Who took the time and effort to gather the various characters and weave a story.

It should also by noted that I do not own Warhammer 40k.

This is the uninterrupted version of the story.

******

PROLOGUE

"I'll see that bet and raise you a ration pack."

Five men and one woman sat around the makeshift table, their faces dimly illuminated by the lumglobes that had been hammered into the rock walls of the cave system. Their clothes, like their faces, were dusty and creased. The discarded flak vests and helmets that were piled nearby were, however, immaculate. Several others were watching the card game and betting on the outcome.

“I'll accept that bid,” declared another of the men through his lho stick. He sucked on the cigarette thoughtfully, savouring it. Such luxuries were in extremely short supply.“I want to buy another card.”

The dealer, a man with dark skin and the kind of wiry, muscular frame that was perfectly designed for the efficient application of violence, turned to face him. With a wolfish grin he took the first man's coins, but did not deal him another card in exchange.

“I humbly request that you deal me another card, sergeant Rana sir,” the guardsman rephrased with a hint of snark in his voice. The dealer then dealt him his card.

"So, who can't wait to kick some fishhead ass?" said one of the other players, a hatchet-faced woman with short dark hair. She tossed a magazine onto the growing pile of stakes in the centre of the table as she spoke. "Another few months of this shit an' I'm gonna go friggin' insane."

"Me too, Dietrich," grunted the fourth player, a man with a thin face and red-brown hair, "Death's hanging around my neck like a weight."

"Well," the dealer, sergeant Rana, declared as he set an unopened bottle of Achtung next to the pile, "I call. Straight flush of Staves."

His declaration was met with cries of disappointment and muttered complaints as he reached for the massive pile of knick-knacks, coin and booze before the fifth player cleared his throat pointedly.

"Not yours until you have the highest hand, sir," he grinned before revealing his cards, which caused several shocked reactions from the other players and some in the crowd around them, "Look, a Full Court!"

The winner sat back, crossing his arms after shovelling the pile of trinkets onto his side of the table, dancing in his seat and humming a made-up victory fanfare.

“Nicely done, Mr Jalousies.” Rana said, bowing his head with exaggerated grace, “But you might not get so lucky next time. Gaius is dealing next, and you've yet to get more than a high card whenever he deals.”

“It's 'cause he always draws up aces for you,” Jalousies complained.

“What can I say?” said Gaius, the sixth man at the table, “I've got connections.”

“I thought it was soldier first, preacher second?” countered the hatchet-faced woman called Dietrich.

Gaius shrugged. “That must be why the aces keep going to our esteemed sergeant.” He indicated Rana.

“I always get sweet F.A back when my best card goes to Aaron here.” Jalousies went on, gesturing to the red-headed man next to him.

Aaron merely turned to him and smiled. “What's the matter, Alexander? The Tau not paying you enough for that first-date present you're going to give my sister when you finally get round to asking her?”

“Atten-tion!”

Every man and woman in the room sat bolt upright and stretched their arms out across the table as a familiar, sandy-haired figure ducked through the entrance.

“Having fun, boys and girls?” he asked with a slight grin as he cast an eye over the loaded games table.

“Is it time, sir?” asked the dark-skinned sergeant Rana.

“It's time, Hiero.” the sandy-haired man confirmed, “I'll need you, Marrick and the others ready to go by dawn at the latest. Ramado's expecting you.”

“Yes sir.” said Rana and Aaron together.

“Dietrich, I believe you volunteered for the contingency team?”

“Yes sir.” answered the hatchet-faced woman.

“Report to Soren, he'll give you the details.”

“Yes sir!”

“And Jalousies?” The newcomer frowned as he noted Jalousies at the games table. In his former regiment Jalousies had held the rank of lieutenant, and so it was strange to see him mixing with the enlisted men here. Then again, times had changed since the occupation.

“Yes sir?” Alexander Jalousies responded, much more businesslike now, the pile of winnings on the table in front of him forgotten.

“You'd better get moving if you want to be back in time for your shift with the blue-bloods.”

Alexander’s face split into a Machiavellian grin. “Yes sir.”

******

Dawn was breaking over the equatorial region of the planet Valkora, and Shas’la Ke’lshan Lynu’cha watched it from his quarters in the former Imperial command centre, his backswept fire warrior helmet cradled in his hands. His armour and helmet were coloured the grey of Ke’lshan, crossed through with the yellow flashes that donated his rank and station. Fire warriors in the field tended to be issued with camouflage armour appropriate to the terrain, but as a recent transfer to the peacekeeping Shas’kar’tyr, Lynu’cha wore his sept colours openly.

Below him lay the city of Tasckird, a human name that sounded odd to Lynu’cha’s ears, but the new Tau government had decided not to do something as provocative to the natives as brand the city with a new Tau name in the wake of the Imperial surrender. This was a liberation after all - as the Water caste insistently termed it - not an occupation.

A river bisected the city, providing water for an otherwise parched landscape. Most of the rain coming in from the coast was captured by another range of mountains some distance west of Tasckird, and as a result the flatlands around the city were dry and arid, the stones and rockrete of the city itself bleached white by the relentless sun. A Shas’ui in Lynu’cha’s old hunter cadre, who had once had the honour of visiting T’au, had commented to Lynu’cha that the vista reminded him of the Tau’s ancestral homeworld.

The city’s population was 80% human with a minority of Tau peacekeepers and other Empire client races, and the architecture reflected this - most of the buildings bore the blocky, angular look of Imperial STC design. It was unlovely to Tau eyes, but it also exuded a kind of primitive power, the city’s existence a defiance of the arid landscape which surrounded it. The area around the city was scrub and rock, on the verge of full-blown desert, except to the south where the featureless plain was broken by a range of mountains - once home to renegades and Chaos cults long eradicated under the Imperial regime, now they served as a base to the few human partisans who had refused to accept Tau dominion in the wake of the occupation. This was the unfortunate flipside of the stubbornness that had allowed the humans to thrive and build cities such as Tasckird.

In the city below the humans were beginning to stir, shaded by thin headscarves or wide-brimmed hats against the equatorial sun that would reach its full intensity in 4 or 5 decs. They made their way to their designated workplaces by car or train, which was gradually reopening as the Earth caste worked to repair the mag-lev network that had been severely damaged during the invasion. It was vital that the Tau be seen to benefit the natives wherever possible, to lessen civil unrest and resentment against their new alien overlords.

The Water caste propaganda would never admit it, but it was a turbulent time for the young and dynamic Tau Empire. True, Aun’O Vash’ya Mont’shi’s campaign to expand the empire’s borders had secured several new Sept worlds - Valkora among them - and driven off the first speculative human counterattacks. However, this success had been marred by the failure of the concurrent Medusa V expedition, and the shocking discoveries made there. New knowledge of the Warp had led to a halting of the Earth caste’s ambitious new warp-drive project while the true threats of this mysterious realm were assessed. What this would mean for psykers among the Tau’s client races remained uncertain, but a decision from T’au was surely pending. Furthermore, mere months later, a brutal counterattack by the Imperium’s elite “Ultramarines” had undone almost all of commander Shadowsun’s Third Sphere expansion. The human known as Sicarius had used the same rapid strike tactics as the Tau themselves to reclaim most of the Zeist sector, and this stunning defeat had sent waves through the Septs, none more so than those whose population consisted mainly of humans recently liberated from the Imperium. For the first time, doubts had been cast that the Tau Empire might have overstretched itself.

Despite being situated near the original border of the Empire and having been conquered right at the start of Mont’shi’s campaign, Valkora was not exempt from such unrest. A year after cessation of hostilities the world was officially pacified, but the situation remained delicate. The partisans in the south were an omnipresent menace, and news of the Zeist incident might tip the locals over the edge. The Tau were doing all they could to improve relations with the native population, from stepping up reconstruction projects to inducting human Gue’vesa into the local peacekeeping forces.

That was Lynu’cha’s job. In spite of any personal misgivings he might have towards the unpredictable humans, he would work with them to protect the city and, hopefully, this demonstration of unity repeated across the city would help to defuse tensions. For the Greater Good.

Lynu’cha checked his timepiece. His shift was due to start in 0.7 decs. He turned away from the window and pulled on his helmet, tapping a stud behind his right ear and watching the status icons wink green one after the other on his HUD as the internal radio and blacksun filter tested and then returned to idle.

“Kor’vesa 2724, activate.”

The discus-shaped escort drone locked into a power terminal on the rear wall lit up and detached itself from its socket, hovering to Lynu’cha’s side on small anti-grav motors. The Shas’la pulled two magazines from a drawer, slotted them into the drone’s underslung pulse pistols and headed for the door with the escort drone whirring along in his wake.

CHAPTER 1

Gideon Asaph hurried down Saint Ithica Way, walking fast. He had long since left behind the area of Tasckird that he knew well, and he didn’t care. A sheen of sweat glazed his forehead, but not entirely because of the heat. He wore no hat or headscarf despite the baking sun - he had dropped his hat two streets back and had not dared stop to pick it up. He knew they were still following him. A glance over his shoulder confirmed the fact.

They had the look of working-class Tasckird citizens, both in thin coats with wide-brimmed hats shading their heads against the sun, but Gideon knew all too well who they really were. They quickened their pace, still walking, but briskly now as they weaved around the pedestrians in their way. It was mid-rotaa and most citizens were on their lunch break, sheltered inside air-conditioned canteens and eateries. A few still walked the streets of the bustling Tasckird suburbs, but not enough of them to allow him to lose his pursuers, or to seriously impede their progress.

Gideon’s heart was hammering in his chest as he turned into a road signposted Peresov Street, breaking into a jog. Looking up he saw something black darting across the rooftops, moving in the same direction as him. He knew what that was too. Behind him, the two pursuers were closing fast. He needed somewhere crowded, somewhere where his pursuers wouldn’t dare try anything. He saw a pub across the street and made for it.

The two men rounded the corner a moment later, just in time to see their quarry disappear through the front door. They stopped for a moment and looked at each other. Nearby, a black ground car eased to a halt directly opposite the pub. One of the men glanced at the car, then up at the sun-bleached rooftops. He nodded to his companion, and then began to cross the street. His hand drifted to a shoulder holster concealed inside his coat.

******

“If I lay here...”

Alexander Jalousies gazed at the sky, not really paying much attention to much else around him. He just lay still, watching the clouds go by. Imperial eagle, lasgun, titan, tree, leman russ. He was so busy figuring out the ever-changing shapes of the sky, that he didn't notice the red-haired young woman behind him. She stood there for a while, observing Alexander with eyes full of emotion.

“If I just lay here...”

“Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” the woman chimed in as she laid next to him and began cloud-gazing with him. Alexander only paused to turn his head and silently acknowledge the woman's presence. Slowly, they both relaxed, completely emptying their minds with the exception of the clouds, the grass they lay upon and each other.

“Together we forget. Forget the world, forget what we're told, one day the Emperor's light will return.” the woman finished the refrain before turning to Alexander, propping herself up on her elbow. Alexander didn't once take his eyes off the clouds. Several more seconds, minutes, hours, days, years passed by. Or that's what it felt like.

They sat there talking. He was curious about this world he now called home and Elisabeth – for that was the young woman's name - answered his questions with a lot of smiles and funny stories. Alexander reached into his pocket, feeling peckish, and grabbed out a chocolate confection from which he snapped off a piece to offer to his companion. She looked up at him, and he offered it again. She looked at the confection, back at Alex, and then back to the confection, before taking the chocolate from his fingers with her teeth. Alexander thought she had never had a chocolate like that one before, her entire face lit up as she savoured it. He looked at her smiling, her hair framing her face, her high cheeks and her button nose, and her smile. A smile that could launch a thousand crusades.

“Gue'vesa'la?”

The other man's gentle prod was only intended to wake him up, but Alexander did so with a jump that knocked the mug at his elbow. The caffeine infusion sloshed against the sides of his mug, scalding the young investigator's hand.

"I'm so sorry." The stranger quickly grabbed some napkins from the table behind him, taking Alex's hot mug from him so he could wipe his hand. "I'm sorry, are you okay? Do you want me to buy you another recaf or something?"

"No, I'm fine." Alex assured him, lifting his gaze to look into the man's green eyes. "It's okay. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have been dozing."

"Long night?"

"Something like that." He nodded. More accurately, it had been a long couple of weeks, that just wouldn't end.

"Here, let me get that." The man wiped down the Alex's recaf mug with the spare napkin in his hands, before handing it back to him. "Black recaf at this time of morning?" He checked his watch.

Alex looked at him. "I don't usually get off shift until around noon, so this should keep me awake until then."

"Oh really, what do you do in the Shas'kar'tyr?"

Alex was amused that the man took an interest, rather than apologising and walking away, like most people did.

“I'm a Verispex...” said Alex, before catching himself using the defunct Imperial term, “Crime scene investigator.” he corrected himself and gave the other a smile, before slipping his hand into the stranger's and shaking it. "Alexander Jalousies. Nice to be woken up by you...”

He looked at the other man's name tag.

“...Gue'vesa'la Michael. Wait, are you the latest member of Shas'la O'ran's team?”

“That's right. You are Gue'vesa'la Jalousies.” The man chuckled back. “So, did you want me to buy you another black recaf to last you until noon?”

Alex chuckled, “No. And don't call me by that wretched Tau title. I'd much rather stick to my human roots, and so far Shas'la O'ran hasn't had a problem with it. Call me Arbiter Jalousies, that'd be the closest equivalent. Or simply Alexander.”

******

The internal circulator units hummed softly, keeping the air inside the modified Devilfish transport at a comfortable 20 degrees C despite the dusty heat outside. For Shas’la Lynu’cha and his pilot, this adjustment was largely superfluous; rather it was for the comfort of their human compatriots, who did not share the same evolutionary bias towards hot environments.

Lynu’cha surreptitiously glanced left and right at the seven human Gue’vesa sharing the transport compartment with him. On his left was Gue’vesa’la Sorid, a compact and lean individual who had once piloted a Sentinel - a primitive human battlesuit. In the last 20 rotaa Lynu’cha had come to learn that he was an introverted but meticulous man, and the latter trait made him useful for their investigations.

Next to Sorid was La’Blerr, the young and idealistic offworlder who had been assigned to the Shas’kar’tyr’s human auxiliary initiative in the last kai’rotaa. Blerr, despite being the least experienced, was also one of the most trustworthy, having been raised under the Greater Good on Kat’lon.

In one corner of the transport was La’Mikhailov, dark haired and dark eyed, lost in his own thoughts. La’Pike, hawk-featured, sat with his human-designed slug thrower across his knees in the other. Opposite Lynu’cha himself were La’Kade and La’Cenk, native Valkorans both, and the youngest and oldest of the team respectively. Cenk had seen the light during the liberation and defected, bringing with him information that had shortened the battle of Tasckird by an appreciable margin and proved that one was never to old to serve the Tau’va. Kade was a skilled negotiator in spite of his youth, possessed of a natural charm that had greatly impressed his former employers in the Water caste. This charm was due to some kind of subliminal warp manipulation, which seemed benign enough and unarguably furthered the cause of the Greater Good, but following the Medusa V debacle the Earth caste had given instructions to keep a closer eye on the young Gue’vesa and his powers - just as a precaution. Lynu’cha would do so.

And finally his second in command, Gue’vesa’ui Bentu’Cea, the transfer from one of the Vior’la cadres who had so impressed his former overseers that they had honoured him with inclusion in their Ta’lissera - an almost unheard-of honour for a non-Tau. Aside from La’Blerr, Ui’Cea was the only member of the team who Lynu’cha truly trusted. If the presence of a Gue’vesa hero such as Ui’Cea could not inspire the citizens of Tasckird, nothing could.

“Kor’la,” Lynu’cha called through to the front of the modified Devilfish, “Anything from the other teams?”

Kor’la Ke’lshan Anuk’ta glanced briefly over her shoulder through the open airlock that linked her command pod to the main transport compartment. Aside from the Y-shaped forehead ridge, there was little to distinguish her from her male counterpart, as like most Tau below ’El or ’O rank she kept her head shaved as a mark of humility and discipline. More distinctive was the elongated, almost spindly bone structure visible beneath her armoured flight-suit, marking her as a member of the Air caste.

“Nothing in the last hour, Shas’la.” she replied.

Even between themselves, aside from difficult to translate elements such as caste rank, Lynu’cha and Anuk’ta spoke in the Valkoran tongue for the benefit of the humans. The Water caste had recommended it as a measure to reduce culture shock, at least until the current transition period was over and the population more receptive to Tau society.

Lynu’cha leaned back slightly in his seat. There were seldom any disturbances during the midday hours, when the humans sought shade for their half-shift break.

That notion was shattered a minute later by a flashing light and a series of beeps. They drew Lynu’cha’s attention to an octagon-shaped screen on the cabin’s front wall, just to the right of the airlock that led to the vehicle’s cockpit. The Gue’vesa turned in unison to follow his gaze as the screen flickered into life. The vehicles of the Shas’kar’tyr were all linked in to the city surveillance network, which was in turn managed by a drone AI capable of recognising signs of potential trouble and automatically alerting any Fire caste in the area.

The screen showed a high-angle image of one of Tasckird’s minor streets, rendered in black and white. The flashing glyphs in the bottom right of the picture detailed the location of the security camera transmitting the image as the southeast city centre, specifically Peresov Street.

The Tau had made an elaborate show of removing and dismantling the pict-stealers placed all over the city by the Imperial regime, albeit only to replace them with better disguised versions of their own shortly after. Security had to be maintained, after all, for the safety of both the Tau and their human subjects. Less obtrusive observation would lead to less tension among the populace, while still allowing the Shas’kar’tyr to deal with troublemakers. Thus, Lynu’cha and his fellow Tau reasoned, this small deception was necessary for the greater good of their human protectorate.

The source of the alarm was a pair of humans crossing the road towards a bar on Peresov, walking with purpose. The network’s AI had superimposed a flashing rectangle over a rig under the lead human’s arm, visible as he parted his coat with the opposite hand. Angry red runes scrolled over the picture, detailing the threat. Civilian firearms were expressly forbidden under Tau law, and this human not only possessed one, he was about to use it.

“Kor’la.” Lynu’cha began, snapping the pulse carbine free of its magnetic locks on the rack behind him.

“Already on it, Shas’la.” came the reply from the transport’s front seat. A flip-down screen over Anuk’ta’s left shoulder displaying the same image that Lynu’cha was seeing cancelled itself with the flick of a switch, while the pilot simultaneously ramped up the power to the antigrav plates on the vehicle’s underside with her other hand.

“Stand by.” Lynu’cha barked to his team as their armoured transport pivoted on its cushion of air, antigrav plates humming as they carried it up above the ground-bound traffic. Propulsion jets swivelled to the horizontal as the Devilfish dipped its nose and sped off southward.

******

Gideon sat down shakily in the farthest corner of the pub, trying to slow his breathing and arrest the shaking in his hands. It was still the designated lunch hour and most of the tables were full, a pair of human waitresses going to and fro with trays of simple but filling pub food. A group of manufactorum workers sat laughing at one table, cool pints of gently fizzing larger in their hands, while a tall man who looked like he’d just got off a particularly hard shift dozed at another, seemingly too tired to take off his hooded sun-robe. A short, broad-shouldered Demiurg with mechanic’s goggles pushed up above his craggy face stood atop a bar stool to order drinks from the Tau Earth-caste behind the bar. Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. Surely his pursuers wouldn’t try anything here.

That hope was shattered a second later as the two men appeared at the door.

“Aaron.” said one, pointing. His other hand went inside his coat. The Tau barman looked up curiously, but no-one else seemed to notice as the two men crossed the pub floor to stand in front of Gideon’s table. Gideon’s heart-rate spiked, and his eyes darted left and right at the many civilians crowding the pub. Finally, he looked up at the two men.

“Not here.” he whispered, “I’ll come with you quietly, but not here!”

“Let them watch.” the one called Aaron growled, “Nowhere’s beyond the reach of justice.”

The tall man had woken up now and was peering in their direction, while the group of manufactorum workers had stopped laughing. Gideon’s mouth went dry as his pursuer’s hand withdrew from his coat holding a snub-nosed laspistol. He brought his hands up in a futile attempt to placate his antagonists.

“I’m not -” was all he managed to say before a thread of blue light leapt from the gun’s muzzle, connecting the barrel and his face for the briefest of instants before the latter exploded in a puff of vapourised blood, sending pink chunks of his skull showering over the walls and ceiling.

A moment later, the screaming started.

The Tau landlord dived for cover behind the bar, while one patron stopped mouth agape in the centre of the floor, a drink still in his hand. Everyone else simultaneously bolted for the exit, shoving each other aside and knocking at least one human to the ground in their panicked flight. The two hitmen followed, ignoring the trampled human who frantically crabbed out of their way. Outside, vehicles both human and Tau skidded to a halt in a screech of brakes as the street was suddenly filled with panicking civilians. The Demiurg who had been standing at the bar rolled up and over the roof of a red four-seater as it braked too late and slammed into him. The screech of tyres was superseded by a deeper whine as a grey and yellow Devilfish swung out from a junction thirty metres up the street, kicking up whirlpools of sand and rubbish with its engine downwash and stopping both of the hitmen in their tracks.

“Shit.” said the one called Aaron, and raised his laspistol.

******

As the Devilfish rounded the corner, banking sharply, it was met by a screaming mob of citizens clawing their way out of the pub. They either streamed past the transport or scrambled for cover as Anuk’ta dropped to ground level and frantically cut the engines to avoid injuring the panicking civilians with the jetwash. In the wake of the crowd, the two men from the security feed came bursting out of the pub at full tilt. Both were holding laspistols. They skidded to a halt as they registered the hulking Devilfish transport hovering twenty metres in front of them, blocking the entire street.

Anuk’ta seized the microphone on her armrest and activated the vehicle’s loudhailer. “Shas’kar’tyr! In the name of the Greater Good, drop your weapons and get down on the gr-”

That was as far as she got before a lasbolt screeched across the Devilfish’s topside, carrying off the delicate aerial mounted on the turret. In the rear compartment, Lynu’cha temporarily slipped back into his native Tau to voice a violent expletive.

“I cannot use the burst cannon, Shas’la,” Anuk’ta warned from the front, “Too many civilians.”

“Drop the rear ramp.” Lynu’cha ordered her. “Gue’vesa, deploy!”

Across the street there was a shriek of wheelspin as a black ground-car parked opposite the pub slammed itself into reverse. The two men caught in the open ceased their ineffectual fire and ran for it.

******

Too cold.

Victor still didn’t understand the need to lower the temperature in the back of the Devilfish they were riding around in. The cold air reminded him of the loss of his last sentinel, Dancer’s Dream, the power plant sitting right behind him warming him up as he strode to war; the enclosed cockpit helping to keep the heat in. The smoothness of the Devilfish in motion also made him uneasy. He was far more used to the jarring strides of the sentinel. They let him know what the ground he walked across held in store for him. And all of this reminded him of the new scars he received when Dancer’s Dream was amputated at the knees by a Tau missile. The cut and stitches on his left arm were already disappearing, leaving behind the self-inflicted cuts that he artfully applied to remind him of the scar that was soon to be gone forever.

There is no beauty like the scars of war. It is a shame that these scars will vanish and never be admired by others. My dance of death will continue, even if it is muted and regulated to my pistol, my art will go on. How beautiful my dance could become if I could just use one of the Battlesuits these gray skinned masters have created. Far more graceful than Dancer’s Dream - it was one of them that drew my last dance to a close. Woe to the artist denied his tools.

Victor looked around at the rest of the team in the Devilfish. None of them seemed all that interested in what was going on around them. Though they all looked cozy, with their uniforms thrown on in a casual manner, broadcasting how comfortable they appeared to be. Victor on the other hand had his jacket around his shoulders for a bit of extra warmth, yet open in the front so he could easily leave it behind should they need to disembark.

He cared little for the reasons why each of them severed the Tau; he himself was doing so out of the personal desire to stay alive. Ui’Cea - as he was instructed to address Edmund - was the most comfortable around his new masters, and he wondered just how long he had been licking their boots.

No matter. If that’s what it takes, then that is what it takes.

The sudden outburst of Tau words brought Victor out of his thoughts and he soon understood that trouble had broken out.

Most likely a bar fight.

He shrugged and made sure his pistol was ready if needed and checked to be sure his combat blade was free in its sheath. Then he felt the Devilfish pick up speed and descend before coming to a stop. It was clear that whoever was causing a problem failed to listen to the pilot’s warning as the Shas’la yelled out orders.

Victor followed the others out and pulled his pistol at the same time letting his jacket fall the deck inside the Devilfish.

“Locj nor tash.” He murmured in his original native tongue as he turned to face the trouble makers.

******

The black car slewed into a J-turn, nearly sideswiping a young Tau who had bailed from his vehicle. The two hitmen, weaving left as they crossed the street, ran to put a stalled red car between them and the Devilfish, much to the dismay of the woman who was still in the driver’s seat. One of them paused briefly to look back, saw the first Gue’vesa drop down from the transport’s rear ramp, and fired his laspistol round the back of the car.

The shot was well-aimed, but Victor was still half in cover behind the Devilfish and the laser pulse slashed a white line across the transport’s engine cowling, spalling off tiny shards of molten metal. The sharp crack of the lasgun elicited fresh screams from the civilians, who either curled tighter into walls and alcoves or simply threw themselves flat in the middle of the street.

Edmund, jumping out of the Devilfish behind Sorid, caught the ground just as the laspistol shot was fired.

Why do they always resist? He thought as he put himself into cover and brought his sights to bear on the group.

"Drop the weapons now! I will fire upon you!" He called out across the chaos.

“Go to hell, Tau-frakker!” was his only reply, followed by a second blue slash of lasfire. The hitman was trying to aim under the Devilfish’s landing gear, towards Edmund’s feet, but the angle was poor. Under cover of the shot, his companion ran.

Pike wandered out of the Devilfish half asleep. There were what? A dozen of them for two ruffians. The Tau took things way too seriously. Pike aimed and fired off a few shots at the man that was running away before slipping in behind the corner of a building. His second shot caught the man low on the back of his right shoulder, sending him skidding forward into the side of the revving black car. Someone inside kicked open the door and hauled the wounded man into the back seat, shouting at the other hitman as he did so.

“Go, for frak’s sake!” the man barked in reply, leaning out round the back of the red car to fire a suppressing shot that blew a fist sized crater in the concrete wall Pike had just ducked behind. At the same moment, Lynu’cha in his heavy Tau armour jumped from the back of the Devilfish in support of the first three Gue’vesa.

"Emperor, look at the civilians…" said Gue’vesa’la Kade behind him.

Nylor Kade had emerged from the gunship, blinking at the daylight. He knew this district. It was close to the industrial sites, mainly for servicing the workers. He had stopped here once for a plate of fried food with his father when he had visited one of his commercial concerns in the area. He took stock of the situation and quickly raced forward, raising his arms. He had a plan - he just prayed that the aggressors, whoever they were, would be too busy concentrating on people shooting at them to shoot at him instead.

As soon as Kade ran out into the street the hitman broke cover over the top of the red car, his laspistol held in a solid two-handed grip and aimed right at the young Gue’vesa’s heart. Lynu’cha couldn’t help - he was focussed on the escaping car, dropping to one knee and letting the large shield of his left shoulder pad protect his body as he drew a bead on the vehicle’s rear-left wheel.

"CIVILIANS, IN THE NAME OF THE GREATER GOOD AND THE EMPEROR, STAY DOWN AND PROCEED CALMLY TO THE SIDE ALLEYS. DO NOT FEAR, WE ARE HERE TO HELP YOU."

Kade laid on the 'voice' thick, the trick that made him. . .different from other people. He had never used it on a panicking mob before, and hoped that it would sway enough to get them to safety.

The effect was immediate. The humans cowering at the street edges or in the cabs of their vehicles looked up at Kade, instinctively heeding his words. Perhaps more importantly, the hitman now standing up behind the occupied car with Kade dead in his sights froze, distracted for a crucial moment. Kade smiled a little, then, seeing the gunman, dived for cover just as a lasblast tore over his shoulder.

Bloody hell, that was close.

Behind him, Erek Blerr followed the others from the rear of the devilfish, the dry heat of the street hitting him as he left the armoured compartment and found cover behind one of the ground cars now stuck and stationary in the chaos of the street. Shots snapped around him as members of the team fired on their assailants and lasbolts whipped past in reply.

“For feths sake!” the young Gue’vesa exclaimed as the civilians in the street hit the deck, blocking Erek’s clear line of fire under the cars at the assailants feet. He rose to a kneeling position and let loose a number of shots from his pulse rifle. He was annoyed, not only because he’d been robbed of a shot that would have taken the criminal down but also because his team member had mentioned the Imperium’s corpse god in Empire territory.

Kade however was jubilant. He had done it! He had helped the innocents get to safety. All he had to do now was let the fighters in the group deal with the insurgents, he supposed, and stop his own head being shot off until then.

Some of the team’s “fighters” were less enthusiastic about the idea than he was.

This is no place for an officer.thought Vyktor Cenk as he hauled himself out of his chair and strolled almost casually to the exit ramp of the Devilfish. The others had already dismounted and were spread out, exchanging fire with the aggressors. He was happy enough to let them run about - it was their job after all - and more suited to the lowborns who made up the majority of the team.

He squinted as he emerged into the baking midday sun and stopped about halfway down the ramp. He was an easy target, his ornate breastplate gleaming in the harsh sunlight. The Tau had wanted him to replace his raiment with something more ‘subtle’, as they had put it. He had told them he'd rather die. He might have joined the Tau to protect his men - and his own estate - and even fed secret intelligence to them, but he wasn’t ready to give up his Imperial heritage. Even if his egoist pragmatism meant that the Imperium would now brand him as a heretic and a traitor.

Vyktor circled around to the front of the Devilfish with Mikhailov close behind him. He drew his laspistol, never breaking into even a light jog. He stood side on to his target as though he were sport shooting and began snapping off shots one-handed at the escaping black car which Lynu'cha was now firing at.

With Cenk quicker to focus on his target than his Tau commander, his shots smacked into the back of the black car as it picked up speed. One slashed right through the driver’s compartment, exploding two windows and leaving a black scorch mark on the wall behind. He was about to fire again when something thin and silver slammed into the laspistol in his hand, tearing it from his grasp. The force of the throwing blade had been quite considerable. Cenk grimaced and shook his hand as though he had burnt it on a hot stove. He looked down at the gun as it clattered to the ground next to the Devilfish transport, now with a notch in its highly-polished barrel. Next to it was a thin-bladed throwing knife. The hit had come from above and to his right, and he snapped his head up in time to see something black whirl away and vanish from the rooftop of the building opposite the pub.

Someone was leaning out the smashed rear window of the black car, someone with a snub-nosed automatic in his hand, and Cenk ducked as a line of sparks stippled down the flank of the team’s Devilfish. One of the bullets hit Lynu’cha in his braced shoulder pad and knocked him off balance as the car squealed away, skidding on the dusty tarmac as it vanished down the wider road running perpendicular to Peresov street. Now alone, the one remaining hitman fired another shot round the side of the red car, trying to hit Kade before he could scramble back into cover.

The shots whipping past reminded Cenk that he was in a combat situation. It took him only a moment to regain his composure.

"Target on the rooftops!" he called, his trained officer’s voice carrying above the gunfire and the roaring engine of the escaping vehicle. He pointed towards the building where he had last seen the assailant. Realising that he was still disarmed, Cenk scooped up his pistol, examining the barrel as he did so. The damage was superficial and the weapon could still be fired. Looking towards the red car he saw that the second hitman was now well and truly pinned down. His greatcoat flowed out behind him as he strode forward, aiming to place the few abandoned cars in the street between him and his target as he attempted to flank the vehicle that the hitman was using as cover.

"You there, Kade. On your feet boy! Let's see if you're worthy of those epaulettes." He snapped to Kade as he passed him, referring to the jacket the young man was wearing.

"Right. . .sir." Don't argue. . .just get up and do it.

Kade scrambled back to his feet and immediately ducked down again as a lasblast bubbled the paint of the car he was hiding behind.

"He's got me pinned!"

He stayed down, then leaned up again to fire a few shots from his pistol before ducking down again. Erek Blerr responded. Watching as Cenkand Kade made to flank their assailant Blerr offered supporting fire, keeping their enemy’s head down with a series of powerful pulse shots.

******

Mikhailov had said nothing during the patrol, as was relatively common for him; most of his time was spent brooding. He'd held a small piece of paper in his hand - a letter from his now-dead sister Natalia - reading and re-reading in silence. There was little else he could do; these patrols were generally quiet, and after a while staring out of the alien equivalent of windows at all the pawns of an alien regime got tiresome.

Now, though, something had happened, and he'd followed the others as their 'Fish transport - what was it? Swordfish? Spoonfish? - had whined to a halt. He'd watched as his colleague caused all the local civilians to head for cover, and he shuddered slightly. That boy was touched by the warp; he'd have to be watched.

Mikhailov moved forward at a crouch, grunting as one of the speeding black car's occupants opened up with an automatic weapon. Sparks flew across the hide of the Fish, right above his head, and he swivelled at a crouch and rested his back against a ground car's door. He even took the time to notice that his Tau squad leader had gone down, but he had no time to check if it was fatal.

"Target on the rooftops!" Cenk called, and instinctively Mikhailov's lasgun came up to his shoulder, scanning each roof in turn in one slow spin. Whoever it had been, it didn’t seem as though they'd stuck around, but he wasn't taking any chances.

The combined fire from Kade and Erek was telling, especially the plasma-wreathed slugs from Erek’s pulse rifle. They streaked through the car cabin, blowing out the windows and raining glass down on both the hitman and the poor woman still cowering in the driver-side footwell. In the end it was Vyktor Cenk who fired the decisive shot; manoeuvring round the intervening cars he got a clear shot into the hitman’s side. His opponent was still blinded by flying glass, and deafened by the supersonic shriek of Erek’s pulse rifle, and he did not even see the lasbeam coming as it tore into his ribs, ripping them open in an explosion of vapourised flesh.

******

Aaron found himself on the ground with no memory of having fallen over, a scream torn from his mouth by a pain that was worse than anything he had ever experienced. It took him several seconds to tear his eyes away from the bloody mash that had been his left side and force himself to focus. Breathing was nearly impossible, but that didn’t matter so much anymore. The power pack of the laspistol still gripped in his white-knuckled hand was flashing an amber low power warning, but that didn’t matter so much either because he would never have stood much chance alone against six or seven attackers.

It had all gone horribly wrong. They were supposed to have been able to eliminate the target and get out before the Shas’kar’tyr could respond. It must have been the worst kind of bad luck that a Tau unit had been close enough to catch them as they exited the pub. But Alteus and the others were safe - he thought he had delayed the bastard Tau long enough for them to get away. The thought comforted him. He had done his duty.

No, not quite. He still had one duty left to perform. Just as one of the Tau auxiliaries came running towards him, he summoned the last of his strength and raised the laspistol muzzle to the side of his neck.

There was a puff of vapourised blood, followed by the thick spray of torn arteries, and then everything faded to black.

******

From his prone position, Lynu’cha heard La’Cenk call out that their target was down. He kicked out, rolling smoothly back up onto his hooves in spite of his bulky armour. The symbol of T’au on his left shoulder pad was cracked where the bullet had hit it, but the shot had not penetrated. Beside the Shas’la, Gue’vesa Mikhailov lowered his lasgun as it became apparent that the rooftop assailant was long gone. Lynu’cha looked left and right, taking stock of the situation. In the badly shot-up ground car, a dishevelled woman tentatively raised her head above the glass-covered dashboard. All around, other civilians were beginning to raise their heads. All of them were shaken, but none seemed badly hurt, thanks to La’Kade’s quick thinking.

“Well done, Gue’vesa’la.” Lynu’cha said, placing a hand briefly on the young psyker’s shoulder. Kade beamed at Lynu’cha when he thanked him.

“Thank you, Shas'la.”

The young human looked around, and registered some…uncomfortable looks. So, a few people in his squad had figured it out. He wondered when the names would start. Warp spawn, bolt magnet, witch. This was why he had joined up with the Tau. They where just a little wary, rather than downright hateful. That was fine by Kade; he was a little wary of his abilities too. But the Earth caste biologists seemed to think he was safe enough.

He looked round and drew himself to his full height. He had done well, hadn't he? He started to move into the crowd, checking people where uninjured and then asking questions to see if people had seen anything. He saw Lynu’cha tap the earpiece built into the side of his grey helmet.

“Kor’la, alert all the other units.”

“Apologies, Shas’la.” Anuk’ta’s voice crackled back over the comm. “One of their stray shots took out the Devilfish radio antenna.”

Lynu’cha ground his teeth, “Kor’vesa 2724, activate.”

There was an affirmitive beep, followed by a low hum as the discus-shaped drone hovered out of the Devilfish.

“Transmit message, channel 1; Shas’kar’tyr unit Aslo 10 reporting incident on Peresov street, one confirmed dead, several Gue’la dissidents fleeing the scene by car. Transmit description; car is Gue’la Zeyedis 35-type, black, registration Shi Five Zero Five Hol Do’ran Korar. Send.”

The drone beeped again, transmitting the distress call across the AI network through its own internal radio.

“Do not worry Kor’la,” Lynu’cha reassured his pilot, “The opponents of the Tau’va will not get far.”

He turned to his team, sighing deeply. “Alright Gue’vesa, make sure the citizens are all alright and let us try and find out what in Aun’va’s name happened here.”

As the all clear was declared Erek rose from his crouched position behind the ground car he'd been using as cover and panned his sights across the nearby rooftops. He'd heard the warnings during the firefight but had been too busy to pay them heed. There was no sign of life on the roofs now; whatever had been up there was gone. Jogging over to the now ruined vehicle he'd been pouring fire into just a few moments before, the auxiliary reached inside to prise open the passenger-side door, offering a hand to the woman inside.

“Ma'am?” he asked, reaching in further to help her out, “I'm sorry you had to go through that, but I promise you were never in any danger of being hit by us.” The woman was remarkably untouched by the violence that had wracked her car, the only sign of harm a single scratch to her cheek and a shaken expression. “You might be in shock ma'am, best get you out of here and seen by a medicus.”

Erek was aware if the rest of the team moving in around the car and was keen to remove the civilian from the passenger side, so as to avoid any further distress at seeing their assailant’s ruined body.

“Ge'tan sa'et mur medicat can Shas’la.” Erek called over to Lynu'cha in perfect Tau. “The medicae teams will be here any minute ma'am. Now if we can just get you out of this car?”

Erek took the woman's hand in his and helped her out of the vehicle.

Mikhailov lowered his lasgun, as slowly folk began to rise and show themselves on the street again. He followed suit and rose from behind the car and surveyed the scene; the ruffian was dead, killed by the Captain - “the Captain” being his derogatory nickname for Cenk, who had held the rank before defecting to the Tau and been reassigned as a mere Gue’vesa’la. Mikhailov was amazed the man was actually able to aim, and reflected that perhaps his reputation did hold some weight after all. He moved forward, noting with a glance that their Tau leader had survived and was back on his feet. The psyker Kade had moved forward, towards the car in which the perpetrator had hidden, and Mikhailov followed. Erek was already at the car. The boy was being kind, gentle, coaxing the woman out. For his part Mikhailov just stood there, lasgun in his hands, and tried to give a reassuring smile, hard as it was. With one eye on the psyker and the woman, he gazed around the area, recreating the entire firefight again in his mind's eye. Where was it the two hitmen had been going with such vicious intent?

While Erek and Kade looked after the shaken driver, Lynu’cha tasked his air-caste pilot with cordoning off the street and dispersing any civilians who had not been witnesses to the incident. She unpacked four pylons from the Devilfish and set up a pair at each end of the road, barring the street with two scrolling holographic banners that displayed a warning message in blocky Tau script.

While this was going on, Nylor Kade came across his first witness, a dazed but apparently not seriously injured Demiurg who pointed a stubby finger towards the pub and muttered something about “walked right in and blew his head off” in thickly-accented Gothic.

Lynu’cha himself joined Cenk by the corpse of the hitman. His left side and his neck were torn open, blood glazed across the road, but aside from some blood spatter the man’s face was still relatively intact. He looked to be in his early 30’s, with thin cheeks and red-brown hair trimmed short around a clean-shaven face. His skin was tanned, suggesting that if he was not native to Tasckird and the equatorial belt of Valkora, he had at least lived here for some time. Lynu’cha frowned.

“Kor’vesa 2724,” he said, bringing the drone gliding to his side, “Facial scan, cross-reference with criminal database.”

The drone projected a beam of light from its frontal lens. The luminous green bar panned up and down the dead man’s face, but a few seconds later this was replaced with a small square hologram with the text “no match”.

Lynu’cha frowned again. So the man had no previous recorded convictions. “ID?”

Just as they had under the Imperial regime, the citizens of Tasckird were required to carry identification cards at all times. Cenk made a quick search of the corpse’s pockets, but came up with nothing of value. He did however get a chance to examine the hitman’s laspistol, which he quickly recognised as a standard Valkora-pattern weapon, distinctive by its elongated barrel.

******

Victor Sorid was disappointed. The firefight was over before it had even begun. A few shots had come close to hitting him as he exited the Devilfish and made for cover, but by the time he was ready to press his attack the call that it was over had been shouted out.

Shame, there was potential for art. Still, there is work to be done.

As Victor walked through the street he heard the Demiurg say something about a face being blown off and caught sight of where he was pointing. Without waiting for orders he holstered his laspistol and entered the pub. It was obvious upon walking in that the patrons were scared of the events that had unfolded before them. One human was still lying on the floor, clearly injured from getting trampled as the others fled. A single Tau was slowly peeking over the bar as he was coming in.

“The fight is over,” Victor called out to the bartender, “Come on out and tell me what happened.”

The bartender, a middle-aged Fio’la with crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes and streaks of grey beginning to show in his pleated beard, stood up reluctantly.

“Gue’vesa.” he acknowledged Victor shakily, then swallowed and tried to peer over Victor’s shoulder out the front door. “Are they gone?”

His Valkoran Gothic was good enough, tinged with an accent different to that of Lynu’cha’s Ke’lshan sept. The Tau had brought colonists from several other areas of the empire following the occupation, most notably from Vior’la and T’olku.

Victor grunted. “One’s dead, the other one’s on the run with probably half the city on his tail - I don’t think he’ll be back.”

The Earth caste nodded as Victor made his way over to the corner of the pub, wincing as he caught sight of the body there, now missing its head. Victor looked down at the corpse.

Now this is art. The patterns left by the blood and skull fragments will never be duplicated to look exactly as they do now. Now who is this art based on?

He started to carefully pick through the victim’s clothing, looking for anything that would identify who he was, and more importantly why he was now dead; all the while waiting for the bartender to start telling him what had happened.

“That human walked in just before it all started.” the barman explained as Victor began searching the body, “He did not come to the bar or anything, just sat down in the corner. I assumed he wanted to look through the menu first.”

Victor nodded without looking up as he worked. There was nothing left of the unfortunate man’s head above the jaw. His coat, dark grey and blood-spattered, was the double-breasted suit jacket of a low-ranking administratum adept - a more lightweight version suited to Tasckird’s hot climate.

“Less than a raik’or later,” the Earth caste bartender went on, “Two more humans came in and walked straight over to that man’s table. One of them said something about justice…”

Justice. How naïve. Only a fool would hold on to the silly belief that there was justice in this life. Though these agents of Justice do have talent. Shame that no one else will see it for what it is.

“…then pulled a gun and shot him point blank.”

Victor straightened, having found what he was looking for. In the dead man’s pocket was an ID card giving a name, address and occupation. The unfortunate victim was Gideon Asaph, a 28 year old administratum clerk. He wore no jewellery, but there was a strange bangle around his left wrist - a simple thing made from white and blue cord twisted around each other.

Beauty is everywhere. Ah, white and blue. We’ll need this.

Victor took the bangle from the dead man’s wrist and placed it in his pocket and simply grunted as the bartender finished his tale. It was straight forward. The dead one was trying to hide from the hitmen. The hitmen wasted no time and cared nothing for anyone that saw them.

They don’t care who saw them. They thought they were going to get away. Either they weren’t sticking around this city, maybe not even this planet, or they have someone on the inside watching their backs and feeding them information. If the latter, then that person failed.

This thought elicited a snort from Victor as he stood up and started to walk towards the door. Just as he was about to walk out he stopped and turned towards the bartender. “Do no clean this up until picts can be taken.”

Victor then walked out of the pub with a slight grin on his face and went straight over to the Shas’la.

“Sir, I have an ID on the victim. 28 year old human male. Name was Gideon Asaph. He was an administratum clerk.” Victor handed Lynu’cha the ID card and then pulled out the bangle. “And he was wearing this and no other jewellery.”

******

Vyktor Cenk had moved to one side of the street, trying to make the most of any shade the buildings offered, and for the most part failing. He watched as other members of the team moved about, tending to the nerves of those foolish enough to hunker down and hide in the middle of a firefight instead of simply running or, Throne forbid, offering some kind of assistance. Still more of the group were taking statements and the likes. Cenk had no interest in it - he was no enforcement officer, even if the Tau told him he was. A man of his rank should never have even been assigned to a frontline team. It was a simple propaganda stunt, letting the civilians meet the “hero”. Well, either that or the Tau didn’t trust him enough to give him the rank of Gue’vesa’ui, even after all he had done. He sighed angrily and produced a lho stick from a silver case, deciding to take shelter from the sun in the pub where the hit had occurred. He would remind Lynu'cha of his grievances later.

"None of this would be necessary if we'd chased the bastards down." he muttered, as he lit the stick.

"But why bother?" Pike said as he set his rifle on the bar. "I mean really. Some random guy gets shot and the pilot gets all road trip mommy on us." His voice changed pitch as he imitated Anuk’ta and said "DONT MAKE ME PULL THIS THING OVER, OH YOU SHOT SOMEBODY? IT’S FISH TIME!" He shook his head and added, "I don't get it. What happened to barkeeps carrying giggle sticks?"

Cenk half laughed, lho smoke poured from his nostrils.

"Valkora is under new management, my friend." he said lightly, taking a delicate drag. "The Tau work differently. That is why we're here, to keep the peace as it were."

"I suppose the Tau have a different way of doing things." Kade agreed. He had taken the Demiurg’s statement, prompting him with softly spoken questions when needed to get as many details as possible. All of that had been jotted down in a small, white-papered notebook which he was putting into his breast pocket as he joined Pike and Cenk inside the pub. From the accounts of the witnesses, it seemed like there was only one explanation.

"This was a hit. From what people are saying, the man we killed and the one who got away walked into this publican," he gestured around the building with his pen. "And shot a man after a brief conversation. The feeling is they were friends or associates."

He looked round briefly.

"Where’s the sentinel pilot? Victor, I think?"

Cenk glanced through the open door. Victor was outside, and so was Mikhailov. Mikhailov looked back at Cenk. He'd noticed the man’s uneasy demeanor on the 'Fish over several patrols, aloof and frustrated at his position. And he knew who the man was. It was impossible not to, such a famous face, and that breastplate... it, and that face, had adorned a hundred Tau propaganda posters. Captain Cenk - the man who had seen the light of the Greater Good and defected to the Tau, giving them information that had shortened the war and so saved hundreds of lives, or so the Water caste said.

Turning away, Mikhailov looked to Erek and the woman he was helping. "You okay with her?"

It was a statement more than a question; before the youth could answer he had stepped away from them, moving into the pub and leaning against the wall, lasgun resting against his shoulder. He took a deep breath, observing the aftermath.

"So... Captain..." he said, almost as though to himself, "Hadn't expected to see you on the side of the Greater Good." A small chuckle then escaped his lips, as he turned and looked at Cenk.

Insolent little... thought Cenk,but then it dawned on himthat Alexei Mikhailov was correct. At one point Vyktor thought he would have had no issue with fighting and dying for the Imperium; it was not so now. In the recent fighting with the Tau he had realised that it wasn't some mythical Emperor he was willing to die for but his home, everything he had worked so hard for - Valkora itself. In the end it had become clear that death wasn't necessary. In his mind what he had done was in the best interest of Valkora and her people. He wasn't ashamed.

Cenk stared hard at the man for a moment before dropping the butt of his smoke and extinguishing it with his foot.

"Not long ago, I would have thought the same thing." he replied levelly.

Mikhailov kept the grin on his face but looked away, relaxing slightly against the hard stone of the wall as he looked at the blood-spattered table opposite. Was the body down there? He didn't know and, in part, didn't really care. He reached into his pocket and slipped out a lho stick, popping it into his mouth. He lit a match and inhaled deeply.

"Yeah, well, I guess sometimes a person's own life matters more than some decaying bastard on a throne. After all, one rulership is just the same as the other, except some just smile a little more."

CHAPTER 2

Unbeknownst to Cenk, Lynu’cha was just as agitated as his subordinate at being ordered to secure the crime scene rather than chase down the escapees with the other Shas’kar’tyr. The fire warrior tried to put it out of his mind - they all had to put their personal desires and worries aside when the Greater Good dictated.

“Good work.” he nodded to Victor Sorid, pulling of his helmet to get a better look at the blue and white bracelet as Victor recounted his thoughts.

“Something of sentimental value perhaps?” he suggested, “Or perhaps some sort of superstitious charm?”

“I would say both.” Victor responded to the Shas’la’s question. “He was wearing no other jewellery, so this was obviously important to him. Either way, it was a way to mark him.”

The fire warrior was not well versed enough in human psychology to know why they chose some of the adornments that they did. He looked over the ID card again, and then passed it to Anuk’ta as she came walking over, moving gingerly as she always did in the comparatively high gravity of a planet surface.

“Our victim.” he told her, passing over the ID card.

The air caste pilot turned the ID card over in her hands, and beckoned to Edmund.

“Gue’vesa’ui, with me if you would?”

She led Edmund back to the Devilfish, where she ducked her willowy frame under the drop-down med table hanging above the passenger compartment and sat down in her pilot’s seat. She flicked a switch to activate the small terminal built into the dashboard alongside the flight controls. The small screen rotated down from the low ceiling towards the Tau and the human leaning over her shoulder.

“Gideon Asaph…” she repeated the murdered man’s name thoughtfully as she brought up his file from the state database. The scrolling data was projected up on the flip-down screen for Edmund to see.

“No criminal record, no outstanding debt…” - a quick authorisation code to the Water caste banking service brought a swift return of the dead man’s account details - “And no unusually large deposits or deductions from his bank account in the last 3 months, which means that the assailants were probably not debt collectors.”

She leaned back in her seat and rubbed her chin with one hand, before tilting her head back towards Edmund. “What are your thoughts, Gue’vesa’ui?”

"Pull up his service history, both Imperial and post-Liberation.” said Edmund.

Anuk’ta nodded at the good idea. She could see why the Fire caste on Vior’la had awarded Edmund the honorific of “Bentu’Cea” and a promotion to Gue’vesa’ui. The man had the ability to think like both a human and a Tau. She busied herself with the vehicle’s integrated computer, searching the state database for the relevant information.

“See if he joined our cause quickly.” Edmund went on, “This could be a revenge hit by Imperial loyalists. If so then we should look out for similar attacks.”

“Partisans?” Anuk’ta answered, doubtfully. “They have never hit this deep inside a main city before…”

She trailed off, looking up at Edmund and receiving only a meaningful stare in return. The young Air caste looked away, biting her lip as the dashboard chimed.

“Okay,” she said, as the screen above her left shoulder filled with blocky Tau script. “Hmmm. The pre-Liberation records might be unreliable, of course, but it seems that Asaph was in the same job for the last five years. No specific mentions of collaboration or resistance during the Liberation. It looks like he just kept getting up and going to work in spite of the change of government.”

“I’d also cross-reference the colour scheme on that band La’Sorid found with every Imperial organization local to this sector.”

“Blue and white? I shall try. Water caste intelligence will be rather limited though, given the ongoing standoff at the edge of the Fourth Phase colonies. Negotiations broke down after Shadowsun lost the Zeist sector, and the Imperials have tightened their defences against our spies.”

She paused for a moment, thinking while she waited for the network to return information on the heraldry of local Imperial organisations. Talking about the Zeist campaign, a disaster though it had been for the Tau, had reminded her of something.

“Are blue and white not the colours of the Imperial elite force they call the Ultramarines?”

She shrugged and turned back to her controls.

******

“Alexander!” called Gue’vesa’la Michael.

Lifting his head up from the desk, Alexander Jalousies turned off his weirdly-designed Tau computer as his download finished.

“What.”

“We have a shooting in the bar on Saint Ithica Way, you coming?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I know what I want, and I'm not one to let a good thing get away from me.” Michael smiled back at him.

“I'll call.” Alex assured him. He felt a warm flutter in his stomach as he made his way towards the door, feeling Michael watching him, every step of the way. The two met up with the four other Gue'vesa of their team and Shas’la O'ran in the HQ's underground hanger.

“Morning O'ran, you are looking healthy.” Alex said to their Tau leader, bumping his shoulder into Michael. He saw the female Shas'la blink at his use of her given name, which most Tau would find overly familiar, and allowed himself a moment of inner amusement. Luckily for him, O'ran was more tolerant – or as Alex liked to think, naïve – than most fire warriors, and so more likely to put the faux pas down to accident than deliberate insolence.

“Thank you Gue'vesa'la.” she replied, a little stiffly. “Arbiter.” she added, probably hoping to inspire the young Verispex by meeting him half way with their cultural naming conventions. “Now, we have a situation. Suspected human dissidents have opened fire and are currently engaging with Shas'la Lynu'cha's team. We are to meet up with them and provide assistance if necessary. For the Greater Good, everyone onto the Devilfish.”

As the others filed in, Alexander planted his feet onto the skimmer's access ramp and looked over to his superior.

“Can we turn up the temperature O'ran? 20 degrees is a little cold.”

“Shas'la, if you please arbiter.” O'ran replied, deciding to correct him at this second ‘mistake’, “And what would you recommend?”

“At least 24 to stave away the heat.”

O'ran looked around the rest of the Gue'vesa, who shrugged indifferently. She signalled to their pilot to adjust the cabin temperature.

Alexander moved into the vehicle and took the seat closest to the door, watching as the rear hatched closed and the turbine engines began their infernal whining. He almost preferred the rumblings of a chimera.

******

Lynu’cha remained by the dead hitman, watching as his team helped the bartender and the bruised human out of the pub. Now that the initial shock had faded, the bartender had his head in his hands and was lamenting loudly that this would be the end of his business.

Lynu’cha was unsettled. The two civilians who were hovering around the car and kept pointing at the dead hitman weren’t helping.

“We have taken your statements, citizens.” he said tersely, “And we apologise for you having had to witness this incident, but this is now a Shas’kar’tyr crime scene and I suggest you both go home.”

They didn’t, at least not right away, but Lynu’cha was distracted by a howl of engines as a second Devilfish glided into Peresov street, travelling about four metres off the ground. It too was painted in the yellow-flashed grey of Ke’lshan sept, and emblazoned with the symbols of the Tasckird Shas’kar’tyr. It hovered slowly into an open space between the still-stranded cars, then cut its thrusters and settled gently down on blackened skids.

Out of the round side doors came three Earth caste, bearing recording and analysis equipment which they carried wordlessly into the pub. They were followed by another Fio’la, this one a medic, and finally a helmeted fire warrior with a wiry Kroot shaper at his side. The fire warrior was dwarfed by the Kroot, who was not only tall but unusually bulky by the standards of his avian race. The quills cresting his head were long and a deep scar across his left eye spoke of some past conflict.

The shoulder pad of the other fire warrior before Lynu’cha bore the rank stripes of a Shas’ui, which Lynu’cha could not help but feel jealous of despite their roughly equal standing in terms of the size of the teams they commanded. Lynu’cha brought his hands together in front of his chest, a gesture that symbolised unity and served as the equivalent of a salute among the Fire caste.

“For the Greater Good, Shas’ui.” he said in Gothic, “I am Shas’la Ke’lshan Lynu’cha, leader of team Aslo 10.”

“Shas’ui Ke’lshan Es’ka, team Caor 6.” the other responded, returning the salute. Unlike Lynu’cha, he seemed to have no qualms about speaking in Tau to his fellow fire warrior and leaving the human Gue’vesa out of the loop. “And this is Jikita’ui Krii’tik.”

Lynu’cha did not recognise either name, though he was always glad to meet a brother of his home sept. He acknowledged the shaper with a nod before continuing. “Shas’ui, if we might speak in the Gue’la’sia, out of respect for my team?”

Es’ka cocked his head, as if he found the request strange, but relented. “Very well.” he said, now also in Gothic, “Hopefully it will not be too long before the Water caste can teach the liberated citizens to speak our more civilised tongue.”

“What news, Shas’ui?” Lynu’cha asked as Es’ka removed his helmet and cradled it in the crook of his arm. The Shas’ui wore a hearing implant over his right ear and his right eye had been replaced by a yellow-lensed bionic. No doubt the fire warrior had seen more than his fair share of combat before being assigned to the police force. “Our transport’s radio was damaged and I have been forced to send transmissions through my drone.”

“Four teams are still in pursuit of the getaway vehicle you described.” Es’ka began, “And another is on its way here.”

“Four teams, Shas’ui?” Lynu’cha repeated. He had imagined that a single Devilfish would have been enough to outrun and detain the remaining fugitives.

“We are…” Es’ka paused for a moment before continuing, “We are having some trouble locating the vehicle. Several rooftop surveillance cameras in this area of the city abruptly failed in the last few raik’ors. The cables were cut with a knife, as far as we can tell.”

Lynu’cha fought back the urge to swear violently in front of the superior fire warrior.

“What is the situation here, Shas’la?” Es’ka asked.

Lynu’cha took a deep breath before answering. “We have secured the crime scene and taken statements - I will pass them to your Fio investigators shortly. The assailants killed one man, a clerk by the name of Gideon Asaph. They did not target anyone else, but two more humans and a Bentu’sin sustained minor injuries in the confusion. My team disabled one of the assailants but he committed suicide before we could complete the capture. We are still waiting on a positive identification. Gue’vesa’la Pike winged the other before he escaped in the car with the other accomplices. At least one of the accomplices is armed with an automatic. We have no motive for the attack as yet.”

Es’ka’s left eye narrowed in a frown, eliciting a whirr and click from his bionic right eye as it tried to mimic the expression. “You say they killed a clerk? In broad daylight? Was there anything special about the victim?”

“Nothing remarkable at all, Shas’ui.” Lynu’cha shrugged, “Except he wore a white and blue wristband…”

Shas’ui Es’ka sighed deeply, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“We do not need this right now, Shas’la.” he muttered to Lynu’cha. “Shas’el Val’roth is arriving in Tasckird tonight for the inspection, and a Gue’la has just been gunned down in the streets. Tau’va, what a mess.”

“There is still time to salvage the situation, Shas’ui.” Lynu’cha replied, albeit grimly, “If we can capture the remaining dissident and his accomplices we might be able to learn the reason behind all this.”

******

The two civilians continued to point at the dead hitman, apparently arguing. The Gue’vesa coming out of the pub heard them speaking as their team leader walked away.

“I’m telling you, I’m sure I recognise that guy…”

“Did you now citizen?” Victor walked up behind the man claiming to have seen the man before. “Perhaps you would care to elaborate a bit and tell me what you know.”

The man who had claimed to recognise the hitman turned towards Victor’s voice. His clothes were dusty from taking cover during the shootout, and he had a round face and slightly bulbous eyes. They widened still further as he laid eyes on Victor Sorid.A small one-sided grin began to form on Victor’s face as his left hand dropped to the combat blade still in its sheath on his hip.

Let us see how loyal you really are. Perhaps even see who you are loyal to. Then he heard and saw the Kroot walking across the street and his grin became a full smile. Ah, a true artist has arrived. Let us see how they act in his presence.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?” the civilian yelped as he saw Victor grinning lopsidedly at him with one hand on his combat blade. He put his hands up as if to ward Victor off. “I haven’t done any-”

He cut off abruptly as he took a step backwards only to run straight into shaper Krii’tik.

Shaper Krii'tik had picked up on Victor's body language and began to scent excitement or curiousness from the man. It seemed he had found something of note. Krii'tik stood to his full height, towering over the three men, and approached them at a slow, stalking pace, his hands moving to his lower back to rest on the cured human-skin wrapped handles of his bulky pulse pistols. The edges of the vicious, serrated circular saw bayonet-like attachments could just be seen on either side of his waist.

Intimidate them, get from them the information they have on the prey...

As he neared Victor he let a low rumbling click-growl vibrate in his throat before he finally spoke. "Tell us what you know of this man, and of any affiliations he may have had. You must serve the Greater Good, to refrain from giving this information is to betray the Greater Good. Speak." He growl-clicked once more, quietly.

“Y-You’re Shas’kar’tyr,” the bug-eyed man stammered, “You’re not supposed to threaten me!”

“For Throne’s sake Titus,” his friend said, panicking in the face of Victor and Krii’tik’s half-drawn weapons, “Tell them what they want to know!”

“Golgonev steel works!” the first man, Titus, blurted out. “I work there, I’m sure I’ve seen him a few times in the staff canteen. But I don’t know who he is, I don’t know anything about him!”

Fear. Victor mused, How tasty. Who knew it could prove so delicious?

“That wasn’t so hard now was it?” Victor said as Titus blurted out what he knew. “You are free to go now.” He waved the two men off as Lynu’cha approached.

With the arrival of the medic Erek had relinquished custody of the shocked woman and stood back to take in the scene. Anuk’ta and Ui’Cea were returning to the Devilfish, no doubt to find more info on the victim, but he left it to them. He wasn’t native to this world, and so he’d have little to offer in the search.

Erek looked across the car as Victor confronted the Valkoran with too big a mouth and watched as he reached for his combat blade. No doubt a reflex reaction, or done intentionally to intimidate, the young man didn’t know the sentinel pilot well enough to be sure…he’d just have to trust in the man’s experience. Turning to face the civilians, pulse rifle held ready across his chest, he watched as the shaper added his weight to the implied threat of Victor.

Erek stepped around, putting himself behind the men now faced with both Victor and the Kroot. He was tempted to deactivate the safety on his rifle, letting the men hear as weapons accelerator hummed back up to full power, but then thought again. He was here to serve the Greater Good, not re-enact bad Imperial pictshows. Instead he stood, blocking the men’s line of escape and watching how it was done. It was safe to say that intimidation and interrogation of civilians had never been covered in his training for the Shas’kar’tyr.

From the Devilfish, Edmund eyed the approaching Kroot. He could tell he'd eaten Ork before, an immense help.

"I'd also see if our Kroot can pick up anything scent wise."

“What Kroot?” Anuk’ta had not seen the shaper get out of Es’ka’s Devilfish. She glanced out through her cockpit’s armoured windshield, and saw Krii’tik standing with Erek and Victor. They appeared to be menacing a pair of hapless citizens who had not yet left the crime scene.

The young Air caste blinked. “What the…”

******

“…Tau’va are you doing, Gue’vesa?” Lynu’cha barked as he came marching towards the three auxiliaries. He looked at the two terrified civilians, and then back at his team-mates. Tau were generally more subdued in their facial expressions than humans, but the team could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes that Lynu’cha was not impressed. He looked at Victor, who still had his hand on the hilt of his combat knife, and appeared to be the ringleader in the exercise. Victor was short for a human and Lynu’cha used the fact to loom over the man, getting right up in his face.

“Think, Gue’vesa’la.” he snapped at him, “Relations with the newly liberated citizens are still delicate at best - perhaps you should consider that before you start unnecessarily threatening them?”

He stood back, glowering. “Now, Gue’vesa, if you could enlighten me as to exactly what is going on here?”

Fear. Victor thought again, this time with even greater amusement. Even the Tau understand how it can be used. Still, he looks uncomfortable - such a pity. It’s no wonder he is stuck here with us and not fighting alongside his mates.

“Certainly,” Victor began, “One of the bystanders, by the name of Titus, claimed that he saw this hitman at the staff canteen at the Golgonev steel works. As for being threatening, I cannot help how any given being chooses to see me.”

With that said Victor sidestepped the Shas’la and knelt down beside the hitman laying in the street.

Now what can this piece of art tell us?

Lynu’cha did not care for his subordinate’s insolence. “Consider yourself formally reprimanded, Gue’vesa’la.” he said sternly, “But for now let us focus on the matter at hand.”

The fire warrior folded his arms, visualising the city of Tasckird in his head.

“Golgonev.” he mused aloud, “That is on the north side of the city, so I do not think our dissident came down here on a lunch break…”

Behind him the two civilians took the chance to make an exit. “Throne!” they heard the one called Titus mutter as he hurried away, “Those Gue’vesa are frakking psychos…”

That made Lynu’cha narrow his eyes again as Shas’ui Es’ka came walking over.

“Is there a problem, Shas’la?” he asked, his bionic eye whirring.

“Everything is fine, Shas’ui.” Lynu’cha replied, a little stiffly, before changing the subject, “Shas’ui, might I use your squad’s Devilfish radio? Ours was damaged in the shootout and my Kor’vesa is not equipped to receive live feeds.”

“If it serves the Greater Good.” said Es’ka, bowing graciously. “Kor’la Shai’is’ray is still standing by in our transport.”

“With your permission, Shas’ui, I would ask the Kor’la to contact the Golgonev steel works and obtain a list of employees, especially those who are not working today or have called in sick. I wish to check their ID photos against the dead assailant’s face.”

“I will see to it, Shas’la.” nodded Es’ka, and accepted Lynu’cha’s salute before jogging back towards his own team’s Devilfish transport.

******

Krii'tik stood to his full, imposing height as he walked up and looked at the body of the dead victim. Leaning down and drawing in a deep breath he savoured the smell of his dead, cooling flesh, but restrained himself from biting into the body. He rubbed his scar ever so slightly and then brought a finger down to taste the blood of the gunman, beak twitching just a hint at the taste. He turned to the others and in a remarkably less-accented version of Tau than was common to non-native speakers he adressed his fellow peacekeepers.

"Poor flavour... weak prey." he said. Standing straight, Krii'tik adjusted his belt and the twin holsters at his lower back, shaking his quills slightly in excitement. The hunt was on...

******

“We have a match.” Es’ka said a few minutes later as he swung himself down from the side hatch of the Devilfish, landing lightly on his hooves. “Aaron Marrick, fabricator second class at the Golgonev steel works, currently off duty as part of the plant’s two-week-on, one-week-off rotation schedule. Unmarried, lives with his sister Elisabeth in the Aceron district. We have our killer.”

“Aceron district - where exactly?” Lynu’cha queried his superior.

“22/7 Revoria way, and that is where your team is going next.” said Es’ka, “We will handle the clean-up here and see to informing citizen Asaph’s family; your team is the best suited to searching his killer’s house for anything that might hint towards a motive or further accomplices. The Shas’vre at HQ has already issued an appropriate warrant.”

“As the Greater Good commands, Shas’ui.” Lynu’cha replied with a slight bow of his head.

“Take Shaper Krii’tik with you.” Es’ka went on, “He will be more use to your investigators than to us here on the crime scene.”

Shaper Krii'tik nodded agreement with his team leader's decision to transfer and join with this new team. His skills at tracking and hunting would be much more useful to them, and his skill in up close fighting, something he knew the Tau never excelled at, would be a benefit to the Shas'kar'tyr under Shas'la Lynu'cha.

“An honour, Jikita’ui.” Lynu’cha nodded towards the Kroot, although in truth he was more surprised at having yet another alien auxiliary attached to his team. One day, one day perhaps the Uash’O regional command would deem him worthy to lead other Tau fire warriors. He clasped his hands in salute a final time before turning on his heel towards the open Devilfish with Anuk’ta and Edmund already aboard.

“Alright Gue’vesa, mount up! Our next destination is 22/7 Revoria Way in Aceron.”

Ah, time to go. thought Victor. Climbing aboard, he cast his memory back to the dead hitman.

Skilled but careless. Fitted wardrobe, yet dirty fingernails. Not afraid to get dirty, but not cautious; this will be their downfall. No documents, no personal belongings. Took his life himself, just another throwaway soldier. No real art here, tainted by self sacrifice.

Victor stood up and walked back over to the Devilfish without word. He knew the Shas’la was displeased with him, though it really didn’t matter. As long as he stayed out of detainment he would be content.

A low whine started up and rose in pitch as Anuk’ta spun up the transport’s anti-gravity plates and pulled up the rear ramp after the team as they climbed back into their seats. There was a slight judder as the Devilfish rose up off the deck, retracted its landing gear, and angled its turbines to speed away towards the Aceron district, which was a short ten-minute flight to the northwest of their current position.

“So.” Lynu’cha said as Anuk’ta weaved their transport expertly around and over the ground-bound traffic in their way. “We do not know what to expect at this man Marrick’s house, and as such we will be approaching with extreme caution. Standard dynamic access procedure, and if nobody answers the door we break it down. Gue’vesa’ui,” he glanced at Edmund, “Take half the team round the back of the building in case anyone tries to flee that way. It is possible that there will be further dissidents at the house, and they may be armed. Act accordingly.”

“Ui’Cea believes that Marrick and his accomplices may have been Imperial partisans who killed Asaph as part of some sort of revenge hit.” Anuk’ta interjected, without taking her eyes off the road ahead. Lynu’cha turned to Edmund curiously.

“Imperial loyalists? Surely they could not have infiltrated the city without our knowledge? Besides, our killer apparently lives and works here.”

"You'd be surprised." Pike said "We can be plenty sneaky when we want to be."

Lynu'cha paused reflectively for a moment, then turned to look at La'Pike.

"I suppose we should not discount the possibility..." he grudgingly admitted.

Edmund nodded before adding to Pike's comment. A good man with common sense. Useful. "Back when I still was a part of that disaster known as the Imperial Guard we had intel from guys all over the place in the more recently liberated worlds. Traders, insurgents, hell even Inquisitors could find their way in if they knew who or what to bribe." He paused a second to rub his temples. "And that is why they need to be discovered and removed. Imperial Agents are well trained for what it’s worth, and almost as great a threat to our cause as the Astartes or Imperial Guard. Anyway, yes, sit at the back door in case someone comes out. What's the ROE?”

“This is a residential area.” the Shas’la replied, “So be very sure of any targets before you open fire. Make sure you warn them unless they start shooting first. Anyone who flees is to be detained non-lethally, if possible. And keep an eye on the rooftops, we do not want a repeat of what happened to La’Cenk.”

“Did we find out anything from the rooftops?” Victor asked.

“The Fio’la confirmed that the security camera’s power cable had been severed, possibly by a sharp bladed weapon, but found no other detectable evidence up there. All we have to go on is the knife that was thrown at La’Cenk. Unmarked, no fingerprints. You can take another look if you like.”

Lynu’cha opened the evidence locker under his seat and carefully removed the knife in its clear plastic bag before passing it to Victor. The narrow blade looked like coated carbon steel, artificially dulled, but very sharp along the tip and both edges. It was perfectly balanced for throwing, with a simple integrated grip that had been perforated along its length.

“Were the cuts clean or jagged?”

"Clean." Lynu'cha replied, "Perhaps not made with this knife, but certainly with something very sharp."

Victor took the knife from Lynu’cha, weighing it in his hand without removing it from the bag as though he himself was getting ready to throw it. While the blade was balanced, it felt slightly heavier than Victor expected.

Weighted for increased impact, definitely not standard issue. Its owner kept it in good condition, either it was a favoured weapon, or the owner is very meticulous. This one could be trouble. If it was a favoured weapon he wouldn’t just throw it away unless he thought it was the only thing that would save his life. That means he was desperate.

“The owner of this blade is going to be trouble. Either he is really good, or he is desperate. Expect the unexpected.” Victor voiced his thoughts.

Oh the art the owner of this knife could create.

Mikhailov said nothing as they flew through the streets of the city, a silent figure within the 'Fish. He stared out the window, puffing furiously on his lho stick, and doing all he could not to look at the damned bird-like creature whose large frame took up so much room. He was afraid that if he concentrated on it, everyone would see. They would know.

Best to keep silent, best not to concentrate on it, he thought, though he felt his stomach twisting at being in the presence of such an...abomination. With the smallest shake of his head, a rapid shake, he gazed out of the window.

For his part Shaper Krii'tik made himself comfortable in the cabin of the Devilfish and remained mostly silent as they headed towards their destination, listening to the conversation being held and keeping notes in his head of anything he may need to remember. When Victor spoke up about the skill, or possible trouble, the knife owner might bring, Krii'tik spoke up.

"Leave him to me once he is found. I have no fear of the melee skill of the Gue'vesa..." Then, almost as if only now realizing present company. "No offence intended, my friends."

CHAPTER 3

“You sure you weren’t followed, Hiero?” the sandy-haired man asked as he paced back and forth in front of another man, dressed in non-descript civilian clothes, who stood to rigid attention.

“We had to ditch the vehicle,” said the man called Hiero, “But we made it out thanks to Septima and Decia cutting the vid-links on all the rooftop pict-stealers. In fact, if it wasn’t for Decia we’d have never made it out of there in the first place. She knocked one of the bastards’ gun out of his hand just as he was about to shoot out our tyres.”

“Don’t sound so impressed.” said a deceptively soft voice from off to the left. It came from a tall, lean woman who stood with her arms folded sullenly, “I was aiming for his wrist.”

The blonde man stopped his pacing. “What happened to Marrick?”

Hiero hesitated. “We…we had to leave him behind, sir. He died covering our escape.”

The blonde man barely reacted, but Hiero knew his superior well enough to pick up on the significance of the way a muscle in his cheek twitched, just slightly.

“What about Alteus?”

“He got hit in the shoulder on the way out. Missed the joint but he still lost a lot of blood. The medicus says he might live, he might not.”

“And only one of the targets dead to show for it. What a frakking mess.”

“We overestimated the Tau’s reaction time, sir.” Hiero said, “Either that or we simply got unlucky - even if we did overestimate, they must have had a unit damn close to be able to respond as quickly as they did.”

“Clearly, fate enjoys pissing all over us…” The blonde man sighed, regaining some of his customary composure. “Lets hope we can still salvage this. The odds don’t favour us.”

“Do they ever, sir?” asked Hiero, sardonically. The blonde man found himself smiling slightly as he turned away. He turned his gaze upward, towards the dull metal ceiling.

“Be with us.” he implored, his voice little more than a murmur.

You frakking owe us something.

******

“You say they were desperate?” Erek said, cutting across the conversation going on in the cabin as the 'fish banked in a high turn. “That knife looks like a specialist weapon to me, not standard kit. Isn't it safe to assume whoever threw it knew what they were doing…”

The young man hesitated, he’d seen Victors behaviour towards the civilians in the street and was now quite sure the man was mentally unstable.

“If they do, why put themselves on a rooftop…that blade must have been meant for throwing. Doesn't make sense to put yourself at height with just melee weapons.”

Reflecting on what the more experienced men had had to say he offered his thoughts, he added, “If there's a chance one the Imperium’s inquisitors is on the world, could they be acting to organise the partisan groups?”

“Like I said, it’s possible.” Edmund grunted.

“Those men on the streets just seemed like civilians,” Erek pressed, “But taking down Cenk at that distance with a throwing weapon…could it be some kind of specialist? An agent? One of their assassins even?”

The young man swayed with the movement of their transport, his rifle held across his lap with his hand raised, holding firmly onto one of the many handrails.

"Well,” Pike said sarcastically, “As long as well all agree that the massive, well maintained pigsticker was clearly a specialized weapon that was the property of someone that CLEARLY knew how to use it. I mean, it's not like NORMAL people throw knives the size of my femur as their go-to method of snuffing people they don't like."

“I would hope there isn't any part of the Imperial Inquisition on this world.” said Edmund,“They have a habit of making sure everyone on the planet ends up dead. However, true Imperial agents wouldn't have been so obvious. Especially not Inquisition. And if it was an Imperial assassin, I doubt we would be speaking to each other right now.”

“Ui’Cea is right, I think.” Lynu’cha mused, “As far as I am aware there have never been any Gue’la death cult temples in any of the major cities. If there had been we would have stamped them out long ago as a threat to the education and wellbeing of the general populace. As for an inquisitor…we rounded up the last of those fanatics a few Kai’rotaa after the ceasefire. If any of them are still on the planet, they would have to be in very deep cover to have slipped through the net, let alone left the city and joined the rebels in the south without us knowing exactly who they were.”

"I hope you’re right." Kade muttered at that. The idea of the inquisition having agents on this world was terrifying for him.

Edmund leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to doze for a bit. If the Inquisition was present, then his job just got a whole lot harder. “Of course, they could just be totally incompetent slaves of the Imperium, you know, the usual.” He added with his eyes still shut.

“If they reject the Greater Good then they are clearly not in any rational state of mind.” Lynu’cha agreed as the whine of the transport’s engines died down in volume and pitch to a low whistle. “At any rate, we are about to find out. Kor’vesa 2724, activate, record visual and audio. Gue’vesa, deploy.”

******

The Devilfish pulled into a parking lot just down the street from St Ithica Way. Alexander pressed the door mechanism and levelled his lasrifle, scanning for targets as he dismounted.

“It's clear.”

“We did not expect heavy opposition Arbiter, stand down.”

“I was only checking, you can never know where the enemy can be lurking.”

Alex lowered his weapon and continued down the pathway. This bar was off the street, isolated away from a lot of the neon of downtown Tasckird. As the team walked to the building, they noticed that it was festooned with yellow crimescene holo-tape. Inside were the Fio'la, clustered around a body lying on the wooden floor with splotches of red blood around it. Alex turned and saw one of the human waitresses standing nearby, menus still in her hands even though all the customers had long since fled. Her ash blonde hair was spilling out as she looked at them, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Jamir,” said Alex to one of his fellow Gue'vesa'la, “Check the perimeter, field reports indicated Lynu'cha's team were in a brief firefight and I want to examine the assailant's body as well.”

Jamir scowled at him, and looked at O'ran. Unlike Alex he was fully committed to the Greater Good and he did not see how a history in the Imperial armed forces gave Alex the authority to order him about.

“Proceed, La'Jamir.” O'ran said, soothingly. “La'Acorige and La'Demesk, you two go over the witnesses, then secure the area.”

Alexander looking back to O'ran. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked mildly.

“Your investigative technique is not in question, just remember that I am in command here.”

“Yes ma'am.” Alexander said with false civility as he walked over to the body, crouching next to Michael and the Fio'la.

“Anything?”

“Nothing of note, Gue'vesa.” said one of the stocky Earth caste, a female judging by her Y-shaped forehead ridge and slightly higher voice, “This citizen is Gideon Asaph – no criminal record.”

Michael pausing as he scrolled through the information packets on his Tau-manufactured data slate. “This man was a nobody. Wound also appears to be covered in burns, lasweapon seems to be the most logical choice.”

“We already have some pictures and blood samples.” said the member of Es'ka's clean up crew, “Once we are done we will take him back to HQ for full analysis.”

Alex nodded, “Alright Michael, let's leave them to take care of the mess.”

“Yes, Arbiter.” said Michael, and Alex nodded in satisfaction that at least one of his team was according him the respect his former position deserved. He stood and proceeded to the bar-maid.

“What happened here?”

She stopped and looked up, “The man walked in just before it all started. He didn't come to the bar or anything, just sat down in the corner. I assumed he wanted to look through the menu first. Then two more men came in and walked straight over to that man’s table. One of them said something about justice, then pulled a gun and shot him point blank.”

“Thank you for your time, I know this has been difficult for you. You are free to go.”

He turned from the bar-maid distractedly, his mind elsewhere.

“You know you didn't tell me your name.” Elisabeth asked pointedly.

"Alexander." he said softly.

The young woman smiled at him. "I'm Elisabeth.” The smile faded when Alex's silence dragged out a bit too long. “So much for small talk, huh?"

Alex laughed. "Oh, I think there are still a few topics left. Like when exactly is 'sometime after the millennium'?"

Elisabeth twisted her mouth. "Farther back than I care to admit some days."

"I can understand that," Alex said quietly, having felt that way himself at times.

Alexander continued out into the sunlight of the street, looking at the body and the pool of blood that had gathered around it.

“So this is the hitman Lynu'cha's team had engaged.”

“One of two, La'Jalousies.” said O'ran, having just returned from speaking to Shas'ui Es'ka.

“Where's the other?”

“He fled.”

Alexander looked over the body. Watching not to get blood on his greatcoat, he looked over the man's arms, looking for any note worthy tattoos or birthmarks. He moved onto the man’s vestment, checking the pockets.

“ID has already been taken. Michael pull up a scan.”

Alexander leaned over and took a closer inspection of the man's face. He gasped, then fell to the floor.

“You alright, Gue'vesa'la?” asked Demesk.

“Yes,” said Alex, vaguely annoyed by Demesk’s use of the Tau title, “Just tripped that’s all.”

In truth Alexander recognised who it was. He had known him and his sister quite well. May the Emperor guide you, Aaron. Lets hope they haven't gotten to her.

******

The suburb into which Lynu’cha’s team deployed had seen better days. Tasckird was no hive city, but its ancient defensive perimeter had restricted its outward growth, and in a residential area that had been built and rebuilt over the centuries there was precious little room for the Devilfish as Anuk’ta settled it down gently outside the last in a long row of terraced houses. Each was structurally identical, a block of archaic hab STC sandwiched against its neighbours, but they varied in their levels of dilapidation. Aceron district was one that had seen some of the hardest fighting in the battle of Tasckird, as the vice of the Ke’lshan hunter cadres inexorably closed from both north and south. The houses on the opposite side of the street looked incongruously new and well-kept, having been recently rebuilt and repaired in the past year, and the standardised designs bore subtle modifications such as Tau-style frontings on the doors. The street beyond that was little more than a row of gutted foundations marking out the perimeter of the buildings that had once stood there - the rubble cleared but still awaiting the efforts of human and Tau labourers to start building replacements. The Marricks’ residence and the other small houses that were crammed alongside it had escaped the worst of the fighting, but were consequently the last to receive the attention of the repair workers. Rockcrete that had been alternately sun bleached and smoke blackened was crumbling away to reveal the brickwork beneath. In spite of the decrepitude, the Marricks seemed to have been at least slightly better off than many others on their street, as they were one of a few houses to have a private ground car parked outside.

Lynu’cha was less worried about the state of the houses than the close and cramped area it would provide for a potential ambush. Anuk’ta had already swept the buildings’ flat roofs for snipers, and patched into the camera concealed in a streetlight at the end of the terrace to search for anything untoward. A few curious eyes appeared at windows along the street as the Devilfish touched down and Lynu’cha ordered Anuk’ta to keep an eye on them from the transport while Edmund, Cenk and Pike ran round the refuse skip at back of the Marricks’ house to block the rear exit. Krii’tik and Kade remained with the Shas’la at the front - the shaper for intimidation factor and the young psyker to talk any humans inside down, a task that his species and his psychic gift made him better suited for than Lynu’cha himself.

The curtains on all the windows were drawn, but light sifting through a few on the ground floor showed that somebody was definitely home. Lynu’cha strode grimly up to the front door and rapped it twice with his gloved fist while Kade and Krii’tik stacked up either side of the doorframe.

“Shas’kar’tyr! In the name of the Greater Good, open this door!”

For a moment, there was no response. Lynu’cha gestured over his shoulder for Victor and Mikhailov to bring up the battering ram that was stored in the back of the Devilfish. Then he took a step back from the peeling front door and raised his pulse carbine.

“Shas’kar’tyr!” he repeated, “I am giving you eight rai’kan to open this door!”

For another moment there was silence, then Lynu’cha heard movement behind the door, and the sound of a key in the lock, followed by a chain unlatching. The door opened inwards to reveal a lone figure - a young woman, perhaps 24 or 25 years of age, wearing a simple green linen dress and an alarmed expression. She had a tanned Tasckirdi complexion, and the same thin face and dark red hair as the hitman who had committed suicide rather than let himself be captured by Lynu’cha’s squad. Presumably this was his sister, Elisabeth Marrick.

Elisabeth’s mouth fell open as she registered the hulking form of Shaper Krii’tik, the three Gue’vesa behind him, and the helmeted fire warrior who until a moment ago had been pointing his gun right at her head, only lowering it when he saw that there wasn’t someone more threatening standing right behind her.

“Citizen Elisabeth Marrick?” Lynu’cha asked her in clipped Gothic, the drone hovering back and forth behind his shoulders with its built-in camera whirring.

“Er…yes?”

“Is there anyone else in the house?”

“No, Aaron’s out…what’s-?”

“My apologies citizen, but following an incident in town the Greater Good demands that we make a search of this property. If you would stand aside please.”

Ideally, Lynu’cha thought, a female Gue’vesa would have been useful to search the hitman’s sister for weapons with minimum distress, but he left the decision and the job of explaining things to Kade as he pushed past Elisabeth - as delicately as his bulky armour would allow - and motioned for Krii’tik to follow him as he advanced down the ground floor’s narrow hallway. He stopped briefly at a door on his right to pan his weapon across a tiny living room, before heading through to the kitchen directly opposite the front door.

The kitchen like every other room in the house was small and spartan, but clean apart from a faint lingering smell of grain and cooking oil. Faded white tiles clicked under Lynu’cha’s hooves as he crossed the kitchen to the back door, and turned the key that was still in its lock to let in Edmund and the others.

“La’Sorid, La’Mikhailov.” Lynu’cha called over his shoulder, “Secure the upper floor.”

"Yes, sir." Mikhailov replied, lasgun tight to his chest. As he headed for the stairwell he purposely avoided looking upon the Bird, focussing instead on his training; it wouldn't do well for him to forget his training, die in some shoddy little house in a shit-hole neighbourhood. Still,he was thankful he had been sent with a human instead of... that.

Snapping the lasgun up to his shoulder, he headed up the stairs a step at a time, slowing slightly at the top then dashing up the final stairs and snapping his sights left and right, scoping the first two rooms.

******

Victor had been about to unclamp the ram when the door opened and the girl appeared. It was clear that she was scared, but for herself or someone else Victor was not sure.

Ah, the beauty in the darkness.

Without saying a thing Victor followed Mikhailov in to the house and up the stairs.

He moves with uncertainty, something spooks him. Small and cramped, yet she tends the place like a palace. She cares for this house, so what is she hiding?

Victor pulled out his las-pistol as he climbed the stairs. The second floor was as small as he expected.

If anyone is hiding, we’ll find out soon enough.

The landing was deserted, and the two open doors either side of the stairway led to two similarly deserted bedrooms. The worn carpets did not appear to have been tampered with, nor did there seem to be any loose boards. Given the size of the house, there certainly wasn’t enough space for hidden compartments behind the wardrobes. A third, closed door led to a bathroom. As Mikhailov swept the bedrooms, he took in identical single-bed arrangements, each with a small desk and wardrobe cupboard, curtains drawn but fluttering slightly as cracked windows allowed the air to circulate. One of the rooms was regimentally neat and tidy, apart from the fact that the radiators, chairs and door handles had been used to dry clothes in lieu of a tumble dryer. The other room was presumably Elisabeth’s, with such feminine touches as a lighter coloured bedspread and a tasselled stool for the desk, on which lay a standard Imperial prayer book.

The two Gue’vesa conducted a quick and professional search, but traditional hiding places such as the toilet cistern and inside the hollow metal tubes of the bedframes revealed nothing untoward. It seemed that whatever Marrick might have been, he had been careful to keep his shadier aspects away from his home; either that or he had anticipated just such a search and kept any incriminating weapons and ammo elsewhere.

Victor grabbed the Imperial prayer book off the bed.

Like this is doing her any good.

With the upstairs cleared he returned to the first floor.

Mikhailov allowed a small sneer to crease his features as Victor lifted the Imperial prayer book and went downstairs. He stalked back into the man's room and, grabbing the mattress, raised it slightly off of the bedframe to view underneath. He hadn't checked it already, but he was sure that Victor had. Continuing his search, he silently raged; the stupid woman! Believing in the Corpse God, as though it had done her any good! At least now he knew the man's allegiance... Bloody Imperial.

His rage got the better of him for a moment, and he hurled the mattress off of the bed. Why did people care for Him? Why did they care for the Tau? Didn't people want something more than to be led like sheep?!

With one long sigh, he arched his back, staring at the ceiling and willing himself to calm down. He looked at the mattress, sighed and placed it back, leaving the duvet ruffled before picking up his lasgun.

"Room clear." he said to himself, then moved to the window and peered outside. The 'Fish was an imposing presence parked outside, and the sudden urge struck him to peer down both sides of the street. The man's associates could be watching the house - from the moment he was abandoned they would know that the Tau would eventually show up here.

Gazing out the window, he surveyed the street. There was nobody walking around outside; the presence of the Devilfish had scared most of the residents into retreating inside their houses. Although they were obviously trying to be circumspect, Mikhailov could spot several curious faces looking down at the Devilfish in the street. One, a young child, was quickly called away from the window by her mother.

******

Once inside, Krii'tik took a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent that Gue'vesa left behind. He recognized the scent of Elizabeth, as well as the gunman. As he let his eyes fall on every surface, he took in as much detail as possible. He began looking through drawers and cabinets, testing for false doors and such, any out-of-the-way or otherwise hidden passages or openings that would be overlooked by a unsuspecting Shas'kar'tyr member. The hunt began to consume him, and Krii'tik searched with a predatory grace, letting his instincts and senses take over in his searching. There was little to be found in the kitchen. A Tau-made kettle and a caddy of tanna sachets sat next to a gas-fired oven and stove combination, while the cupboards held the usual variety of food and a smaller-than-average collection of pots and pans. Krii’tik counted only two cups, two bowls, four plates and four sets of cutlery. Perhaps the Marricks liked to keep the washing up to a minimum. Hidden under the sink were two empty bottles of grain liquor. The washing machine was an old Imperial model optimised for efficient water usage.

Also, something about the scent was bothering him. He could smell cheap air freshener, he could smell cleaning chemicals, he could smell everything the Marricks had had to eat for the last three days, but he could not smell the one thing he was expecting to find - gunpowder or the ozone tang of las cells.

******

Kade respectfully removed his hat and stepped into the house.

"Miss Marick, perhaps it would be best if you came with me and sat down. I have some difficult questions for you and some bad news, I'm afraid."

He said it in his gentlest tone of voice, leading the shocked woman into the kitchen, where she sat down at the table. Kade made her a drink, quietly marvelling at how neat the place was.

Not like my flat at all.

Once the mug of tanna was in her hands, he sat down himself and looked the woman in her pretty eyes. There was a family resemblance to the dead hitman, that was certain. He composed himself.

"I am sorry to inform you that Aaron was killed today, in an attack on another citizen of the Empire. I'm so sorry for your loss, I know it must be hard to lose family. While I know this is difficult for you, I must ask if Aaron was involved in any suspicious activity recently."

He used the voice sublty, keeping the woman calm as best he could, while coaxing her to give him the information he needed.

Pike had meandered over to where Kade was talking to the dame. He waited patiently for her response and decided to let it dictate his next course of action. There was a clear right and wrong answer in this. If the woman actually knew her brother and they had spent any amount of time at all together then she'd know that he had a fetish for cutlery... or at least was a dirt bag.

He let his rifle hang around his shoulders and absent-mindedly looked around the architecture and decor. He didn't like it. The combination of proud, robust Imperial construction with fiddly, curvy Tau appliances looked silly. But the place was still tidy... it wasn't her fault that she lived in an occupied city.

“I told him.” Elisabeth said after a moment, almost too softly to hear. And then again, much more forcefully, “I frakking told him!”

For a second it looked as if she was about to send the still-full cup of tanna flying off the table with the edge of her hand, but either self-control or Kade’s discreet use of the voice prevented it. Instead she merely slumped down onto her elbows with her head in her hands.

“This is about the gangs over in Stratius isn’t it?” she asked quietly. Some of the team recalled that Stratius was a brownfield site in the northeast of the city. As a fairly major Ad Mech manufacturing complex, it had been bombed early in the war and was still awaiting renovation under the new Tau government. When Kade asked her to elaborate, she said:

“Someone was always going to try to take advantage while the government was changing and the partisans were still making trouble. Aaron isn’t…” she swallowed, “…wasn’t…getting a great wage at the steelworks as it was and with the whole manufacturing industry under threat with all the automation the Tau are bringing in - no offence.” She added, glancing briefly up at Lynu’cha. Kade prodded her gently to continue.

“Don’t ask me what Aaron was doing for them, but I knew it had to be serious if he wouldn’t tell me a thing about it.”

“Did you try to talk him out of it?” asked Lynu’cha, cutting over the top of Kade’s careful interrogation.

“Of course I tried.” Elisabeth snapped, “I’ve spent the last six months trying to get him out of it. I’ve been praying for him to change his mind about it.”

“And in all that time.” the Shas’la said, his voice carefully void of emotion, “You did not contact the Fire caste?”

Elisabeth looked at the alien for a long moment, and shook her head disparagingly.

“He’s my brother.” she murmured, looking down at the table. “What would you have done?”

Lynu’cha did not approve, but he thought he understood. Family ties were one of the hardest obstacles to overcome to follow the Greater Good. It was the main reason that Tau of all castes were raised in collective crèches, usually without knowledge of who their parents or siblings were. Perhaps the Ethereals should consider implementing a similar system for the Empire’s client races.

“Praying with this was your first mistake.” Victor said as he came downstairs, and handed the Imperial prayer book to Lynu’cha. “Upstairs is clear.”

Edmund shook his head.

"You can't blame her for that. It has never been our policy to force any former Imperials from the Cult of the Emperor. For all of its fallacious existence, suddenly saying you can't follow the faith of your birth causes more problems then solutions. Religion, for what it's worth, is a powerful force. All of you know what the Imperium has done for their god. You learned your history, didn't you?"

He motioned over to the statuettes of Imperial Saints on a nearby mantlepiece before bowing a moment. He could be seen mouthing a silent prayer.

"Besides, having some kind of faith can be a saviour in hard times. I may no longer believe in the Imperial faith, but it is fitting to respect the faith of the home you are in."

He nodded towards Elisabeth respectfully. Despite still being depressed and slightly shell-shocked, the woman looked up at Edmund in surprise.

"Thank you." she said.

Realising that she was more receptive to Kade and Edmund's line of questioning than his own, Lynu'cha quietly stepped back. He moved over to Victor and had a quick look over the prayer book that the Gue'vesa handed him before setting it down on the kitchen worktop.

"Nothing useful up there at all?" he queried.

“Nothing so far,” Victor replied, “Mikhailov is still looking around. I’m going to start looking a bit closer down here.”

Stepping out of the kitchen Victor entered the living area and started to inspect the first level of the house.

Clean, very clean and neat. They’re hiding something, just need to find it. Now what am I missing?

Victor was so intent on finding something out of place that he nearly walked in to the back of the Kroot now working with the team.

“Something is wrong here. Out of place if you will. Can you sense it?” He asked Krii’tik.

******

"You mentioned these gangs over at Stratius.” said Kade,“Did Aaron start meeting up with new people, anyone you might recognise? Did he mention names at all, or meeting places?"

Elisabeth shook her head. “He never told me anything about what he was doing, and he got angry if I asked him about it. He's so frakking stupid.”

Her voice cracked a little on the last word. For the first time Kade saw tears in the woman's eyes, and once the belated reaction started they didn't stop. She sat with her eyes fixed on the tablecloth for a long minute, biting her nails and crying into her still-untouched tanna.

"Must run in the family." Pike said with a shrug.

Kade shook his head slightly. He knew what had happened here, Elisabeth had known that something terrible was going to happen and the knowledge of that had gnawed at her day and night. She had been expecting someone to come to her door and give her the bad news. He waited a little while for the woman to regain her composure before continuing. He looked the woman in the eyes.

"I don't think Aaron was a bad person, just misguided. Things are difficult for many of us, and he made some bad decisions. But with your help his life can still mean something. We might be able to stop these people striking again and killing more innocent people. So anything you know will be helpful."

He smiled warmly. A small part of him wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay, that the Tau where genuinely good and honest, but he remained professional.

Shaper Krii'tik grunted at the smell of freshener in the house... far too much freshener for his sensitive nose, used too often. He looked around the house once more, not seeing anything directly out of place or telling but still feeling like something about the place was wrong here.

"Dame Marrick,” he asked with a ruffle of his quills, while looking at the others out of the corner of his eyes, letting them on that he felt she might be hiding something. “If I may ask, why do you use so much scent-masking air freshener?"

"What?" Elisabeth looked up and dried her eyes on the back of her hand, thrown by the shaper's change in tack, "In the living room? Because it's cheap rubbish that doesn't hang in the air very long. I'm sorry if our human affectations offend you."

She rubbed her eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that."

Lynu’cha thought he saw what was going on here. La’Sorid was right, there was something wrong with the house, but it was not the presence of evidence but rather the absence of it. The human familial bond clearly went both ways - Aaron Marrick had been very careful not to take anything incriminating home with him and had kept his sister in the dark so that she could not be held accountable if he was ever found out. On balance, better for Elisabeth, but not so much for Lynu’cha and his investigation. They did however have one lead. Stratius, the brownfield site of abandoned human factories where Aaron had apparently been spending time, would be the perfect place for a gang to hide a weapons cache.

“Thank you for your co-operation, citizen Elisabeth Marrick.” Lynu’cha said, “The Greater Good apologises for your loss, and we will be in touch again soon.”

His brief and clinical condolences went down rather less well than Kade’s, and the human woman just stared fixedly into her tanna as the fire warrior turned towards the door.

“Gue’vesa, finish up here - we are moving on in five minutes.”

As Lynu’cha headed out of the flat, Elisabeth - left alone in the kitchen with Kade and Pike - slowly hunched forward and let her head fall into her hands.

Mikhailov waited until the rest of the team had been heading towards the door, then quietly slid his way over to the woman. He bent down and rested a hand on her shoulder, a sympathetic gesture. His words were not.

"I hope that you have told us all you know, miss, though I doubt it. While you sit there, consider this: your brother'sfriends will know we were here, all your neighbours have seen us. Do they know that you apparently know "nothing"? Will they want to know what you may have told us, what little tidbits your brother may have let slip, and come for you? I hope that you remember that you have missed your chance at protection, and that the servants of the Corpse God are not known for their soft ways of finding out what they want."

With that he straightened, keeping his voice low.

"If you live to see the morning it will be a miracle. Good day, miss."

With that he turned and followed the others.

******

Edmund patiently waited for the others to leave, calmly perusing a nearby bookshelf to appear preoccupied while waiting for the others to leave. As Kade walked out, he placed the book of Prayer beside a small candle statuette of Deus Imperator himself. He turned and looked at Elisabeth intently.

"Understand this, what I say to you now can never leave this room. If it does, your life will be one of infinite wrath and suffering that you may not even begin to understand."

Edmund gazed into her eyes. A faithful servant of the Emperor. The exact reason he was on this forsaken world. He handed her something and wrapped her hand around it.

"You have friends here. But right now you must continue on with your daily duties. My work requires certain actions and cooperation that is, unpleasant, to say the least. If anything should come to threaten your home, contact me with this. I'll try to do my best. The Emperor has not forgotten your homeworld."

"Your work?" Elisabeth asked, evidently confused as she looked at the device he had given her. "Who's going to threaten me? Who are you?"

"Things are very seldom what they appear, Miss Marrick. Know that if your heart is loyal and your faith pure I am no threat to you. As for what may come, I do not know, but be prepared for anything."

"Loyal to what, though?" Elisabeth said, suspiciously. Her body language was guarded, as if she was wondering if this was some new Tau tactic to test her innocence.

"All you need to understand is that we are on the same side. Again, if you are threatened - use that right there. Thank you."

******

Victor stopped in the center of the main room on the ground floor as the order to from Lynu’cha to finish up and regroup at the Devilfish was given. He looked around the room one last time, clearly concerned that they were overlooking something. With a shrug he turned and followed the Shas’la out of the house and entered the Devilfish. Only then did he notice how cool the air was and he shivered slightly as he sat down and looked around for his jacket. He realized his jacket was still on the deck plating and leaned down to pick it up.

Dirty. Not good. Need to wash my jacket as soon as possible. This transport needs cleaning as well. We’ve let it get filthy.

Victor started to wipe away the dirt that had gotten on his jacket as he waited for the rest of the team to climb on board the transport.

“Back so soon, Shas’la?” Anuk’ta queried as Lynu’cha and the team piled back into the Devilfish.

“It seems our dissident was careful not to take his work home with him.” Lynu’cha replied dryly as the transport powered up for take-off, “No solid evidence at the property, but we do have a lead. Take us to Stratius.”

Anuk’ta’s mild eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. “Stratius? The bombed-out industrial site?”

Lynu’cha nodded. “The dissident’s sister thinks whatever group he was working for was centred in that area.”

“Makes sense, I suppose.” Anuk’ta mused as she danced her hands over the Devilfish controls, “We do not mount many observation cameras around uninhabited areas…”

“Kor’vesa 2724, activate, transmit message, channel 1.” Lynu’cha reeled off to the drone that had just hovered back into the transport and plugged itself into its charger harness. “Team Aslo 10 is proceeding to Stratius to investigate potential lead regarding the Asaph shooting.”

“Should we not call for backup?” Anuk’ta asked.

“We will assess the situation when we arrive.” Lynu’cha replied. Besides, co-ordinating with other units would be difficult with their vehicle radio out and his drone not being designed to receive live feeds.

He tapped keys on his armrest to bring up the video recordings that the drone had automatically uploaded into the Devilfish computer, displaying them on the octagonal screen at the front of the transport section. He watched the playback of their conversation with Elisabeth silently, his face showing no expression. The second viewing did not grant him any sudden flash of new insight.

“Any thoughts, Gue’vesa?” he asked after a minute, allowing his eyes to sweep the cabin.
Mikhailov sighed as his leader asked for opinions. Normally he was quiet, but this time he spoke.

"With respect, sir, if she was withholding any information you should have used more physical attempts at gaining a response. We are dealing with terrorists, and we have just wasted time pussy-footing around her and giving any agents watching her home ample time to advise their colleagues that we were there."

“Physical coercion, without sufficient suspicion or evidence?” Lynu’cha shook his head, making his disapproval plain, “No, La’Mikhailov, the Greater Good would never resort to such barbaric tactics.”

Not to mention that it would lead to a public relations nightmare.

"It is now more likely than ever that we are heading into an ambush, sir." Mikhailov went on. Personally, sir, I think you're a motherfething idiot, he thought to himself, leaning back against the wall of the 'Fish and gazing at his superior.

“The thought had crossed my own mind, Gue’vesa.” Lynu’cha murmured. If he sensed the challenge in Mikhailov’s eyes, he gave no reaction. “And so we will be employing a Kauyon of our own. We send the Kor’vesa in first to scout the building.”

He gestured over his shoulder towards the drone, sitting placidly in its rig as it recharged its power cells and synchronised its databanks with those of the Devilfish.

“As for any dissident agents, remember that we have a surveillance camera in the lamp-post at the end of the street. Kor’la, if you would?”

Anuk’ta obligingly patched into the drone AI network to project the relevant camera view onto Lynu’cha’s screen. Revoria Way was still deserted, the citizens apparently hesitant to leave their houses despite the fact that the Devilfish had departed several minutes ago.

“If anyone armed approaches the house, the network will automatically alert the nearest unit of the suspicious activity, and they should be able to react in time.”

The obvious unasked question was what if they did not? Lynu’cha left it unsaid, reasoning that if the worst was to happen then they would have the enemy’s faces on camera, and the Water caste would have more ammunition with which to condemn the killers. Death or injury to citizen Elisabeth Marrick would be regrettable of course, but for the far greater proportion of citizens who did not know her personally, Lynu’cha had faith in the Water caste’s ability to turn the population against the dissidents rather than the Shas’kar’tyr who had failed to protect her. The Greater Good of the majority would be served, as was only right. Lynu’cha did not feel the need to explain as much to his subordinates.

******

Kade had climbed onto the Devilfish second to last. While he had missed Mikhailov's last venomous comments, he couldn't miss the emotions coming of him in a wave. His whole posture shouted anger and contempt.

He lowered himself into one of the seats and checked his gear, listening to the conversation going on around him. He thought about Elisabeth and the way her life had come apart at the seams, and the way he hadn't seen his own family in months. He didn't know if they were alive or dead, and in truth it was better if they thought he was dead. The invasion had done so much damage, but one of the Water caste had told him once that change was often painful, but always necessary to bring forth a Greater Good. Wasn't he living proof of that? Clearing his mind, he focused on the task at hand.

"What are the orders for this scouting mission?"

Lynu'cha nodded appreciatively at the young Gue'vesa's focus on the mission.

"The plan, La'Kade, is to approach the site, disembark and form a perimeter, and allow my Kor'vesa to sweep the area first. If, as La'Mikhailov suggests, there are dissidents waiting to ambush us, we can take them opening fire on the drone as confirmation that they are enemies of the Greater Good and engage them with our full firepower."

In the front of the Devilfish, Anuk'ta smiled slightly and patted the controls for the vehicle's burst cannon.

"Of course," Lynu'cha went on, "If we are fortunate they will have some grasp of reason and surrender to the drone rather than resist, and we can move in and detain them. Third eventuality: if the drone sweep comes back clear, we move in on foot and search for any hidden weapons caches."

Edmund had climbed onto the Devilfish last, taking a seat in the back and closing his eyes. Mikhailov was sounding like a fool, and Kade a little to enthused about the situation. Something the pilot said, however, made him raise an eyebrow.

"How "bombed out" are we talking?"

“Quite severely damaged.” Anuk’ta replied without looking back over her shoulder, “But the men of the Imperial Mechanicus are industrious workers and they had most of the actual machinery operational again by the time the ground forces reached the sector two days later, even if the structural damage remained unrepaired. After we occupied the site the Earth caste took away most of the equipment for study, but the buildings themselves have not yet been replaced with new factories.”

She slid a control lever forward, increasing power to the transport’s engines.

“You can see for yourself when we arrive.”

It was mid afternoon by the time the Devilfish touched down in the centre of Stratius industrial estate, but the midday sun showed no sign of slackening. Three great warehouse factories were arranged along three sides of the rectangular site, which had produced bulk chemicals and explosives until the Liberation. Two of the warehouses had lost their roofs during the bombing, as had the Mechanicus control room on the fourth side of the site. The third warehouse was relatively intact, but for one small hole in the roof near the north side, possibly from an unexploded bomb that had been subsequently removed. The manufactorums were simple, robust pieces of technology by Mechanicus standards, but still most of the machinery - the compact plate heat exchangers, the spinning disk reactors, the oscillating baffle tubes - had been removed for study by the Earth caste. Even the waste treatment plant behind the three main buildings had been stripped, just leaving the concrete bunds and the drains which had emptied the treated effluent into the city sewers. Only the most basic units such as the massive storage tanks and the transportation pipelines had been left in place, giving the roofless warehouses a skeletal appearance.

Lynu’cha pointed to the third building, whose intact roof was emblazoned with a huge, faded Mechanicus cog symbol. The front of the building bore the designation ‘Manufactorum C’.
“That looks like our most likely candidate.”

“The motion sensors all read clear.” Anuk’ta replied shortly, “But those walls are comparatively thick concrete.”

“Kor’la, drop us off and then cover the front door.” Lynu’cha ordered, “Gue’vesa, form a perimeter - assault group with me by the rear entrance.”

From circling the area before landing, they knew that the only points of access were the front loading bay and a pair of emergency exits at the back. There were no windows, which was a mixed blessing - preventing anyone firing out at them from the safety of the building, but also preventing the team from gaining any advance intelligence on what might be inside. They could however guess from the two roofless warehouses what the layout might be - a single factory floor surrounded by raised observation and maintenance gantries, with a similarly raised control room where servitors had once operated the pumps and valves, ultimately overseen by the tech-priests in the separate control building.

Krii'tik, who had found himself sitting silently as they rode to their destination (something was bothering him about this hunt, but he was still uncertain what it was...) was one of the first out of the Devilfish, unsheathing his brutal pistols and arming them with a soft hum before crouching low. He waited for the others to form up and nodded to each who would make up the assault party.

"We take the hunt to them." He growled quietly.

His tone was fierce, despite its low pitch. It was obvious that Krii'tik was bothered by something, but he did his best to keep it from showing. "I am ready when the rest of you are, Shas'kar'tyr."

Lynu’cha and his immediate companions stacked up by the emergency exits to Manufactorum C, to discover them closed, but the locks broken. This was hardly surprising, given how thoroughly the Earth caste had gutted the site, but any subsequent boarding or barricading, if it had ever been installed, was now gone.

Lynu’cha nodded to his team-mates, and slowly pulled one of the heavy iron doors open, keeping himself shielded behind it as he pulled. It moved with only the slightest squeal of hinges. To the team’s relief, there was no shout of alarm, no immediate flurry of gunfire from within. The Gue’vesa ranked up outside or crouching by the doorframe could see little of the building’s interior. With no windows and the ceiling strip-lights long since deactivated, the warehouse was very dim and gloomy, cross-hatched with shadows from the single light source provided by the hole in the roof.

“Kor’vesa 2724, recon, standard building sweep. Weapons setting: retaliatory only.”

The drone that had been hovering silently behind the team dipped its circular casing to fit through the door, accompanied by a beep of acknowledgement and the click-whirr of its underslung pulse pistols arming themselves. The shadows quickly swallowed the drone, though the team could see the beam of its small searchlight sweeping back and forth until a pair of distillation columns hid it from view.

******

Victor followed the rest of the team out of the Devilfish and took a good look around. The intact warehouse looked out of place in all of the rubble that surrounded it. The bombing was almost complete, and from the looks of it the ground forces did the rest.

Of course they have done little to clean the place up, and now we get stuck with the dirty work. No good art will come of this.

He also realized too late that he had failed to leave his jacket in the transport.

Great. This jacket is going to get trashed. I will never get it clean now.

He continued to follow the team to the entry point of the still standing warehouse and readied his las-pistol as the drone was set free to recon the interior. It was only a matter of seconds before the drone let out a shrill alarm tone.

******

“Come on Michael.” Alexander protested as he re-entered the vehicle. “I think I know were they are heading.”

“Who are heading?” asked the other Gue'vesa in genuine confusion.

Alexander flipped on the vehicle's display monitor and punched in the coordinates into the positioning system, bringing up the city's CCTV cameras, and then the feed from the one on Revoria Way.

“What are you doing, La'Jalousies?” protested the pilot.

“What the hell are you doing?” repeated Micheal.

“Shut up and tell me what do you see?”

“A Kroot, a few human auxiliaries and a Tau. What of it?”

Alexander swore under his breath.

“That woman appears to be crying.” Michael observed, “You think it was something they said?”

“No. I know exactly what happened.”

“The Kroot is doing something; it appears to be sniffing around. Do you think it knows something is there?”

It could have been a possibility that Alex's scent was still present from the last time he visited. But that was weeks ago. He shook his head at such a possibility.

“Stay strong Elisabeth, I will be there soon enough.” He said it quietly, so the others wouldn't hear.

"Can I give you a ride home?" he asked, loathe to end their evening.

"Sure," Elisabeth answered, "Just let me tell Aaron - he's my usual ride." Alex waited for her as she told the other man, who gave her a shove back in Alexander's direction. Elisabeth was laughing as she came back.

"Quite some friends you've got," Alex remarked as they crossed the parking lot to his vehicle.

“He's my brother.”

"Well he is not afraid to be bold, and for that I'm thankful.”

Elisabeth looked at him appraisingly as he opened the car door for her. Finally she looked away and got into the car. He shut the door and got in on the driver's side.

"So, where to?"

Elisabeth shrugged. "Anywhere. I don't want to go home yet."

"It's after two in the morning."

"And I won't get to sleep until six - trust me on this," she said with a shrug.

"Dangers of working nights." Alexander just laughed. "I usually work nights myself."

"Really? Slow night tonight?"

"Nope, night off."

"So why me?" he asked with a self-deprecating grin. She frowned at him, the first time he'd seen her do that.

"You really have no idea do you?"

"About what?"

"Yourself. You've got a face that speaks volumes, even when you're quiet. You reveal a lot of your personality just through expression. You're also insatiably curious about everything, but you'd rather find out things on your own rather than have people tell you the answers."

Elisabeth shook her head. "You're very observant."

Alexander sighed. He should have told her back then.

“It appears they are now leaving.”

Alexander gave another sigh, this time of relief. He turned off the vid screen and walked to O'ran.

“Scene is secure, body is being taken back to HQ for further study, orders.”

“Dispatch has reported another possible insurrection incursion. La’Lynu'cha's team have already engaged.”

CHAPTER 4

Lynu'cha nodded to the shaper as he loaded a photon grenade into the underslung launcher of his pulse carbine. "Take point, Jikita'ui."

It was not a callous order, but a pragmatic one - the Kroot could focus more quickly in the low light than his Tau leader. As they crossed the threshold into the warehouse, Lynu'cha tapped the side of his helmet to patch himself back through to Anuk'ta in the Devilfish.

"Kor'la, the Kor'vesa has found something. Stand by."

As Lynu’cha and Krii’tik led the way into the warehouse interior, the Tau fire warrior swept his carbine around the overhead gantries, looking for ambushers on overwatch. He found none. The manufactorum was silent, the remaining equipment rusting slowly in the dry heat. They quickly rounded a storage vessel stamped with a grinning skull and cog, and Lynu’cha’s drone came into view ahead, still emitting warning beeps as it trained its searchlight on a stretch of pipework that snaked across one side of the warehouse. Illuminated in its searchlight was a short, stocky figure, standing motionless under the artificial glare. The figure was half-hidden behind the pipe, and the rest of him was swathed in a hooded, rust-red robe. The hood was pulled low over his eyes, so that only his wide nose and thin lips were visible.

Lynu’cha glanced at the others. There should not have been any Adeptus Mechanicus in this abandoned facility; those few who had defected to the Tau after the Liberation were kept under close watch by the Earth caste, as their knowledge was needed for unravelling the more advanced elements of Imperial technology, as well as for rebuilding much of the planet’s infrastructure.

“Who are you?” Lynu’cha barked at the robed figure in Valkoran gothic, his pulse carbine levelled at the stranger’s centre of mass.

The figure did not answer. He seemed absorbed by something he was cradling in his hands. Lyun’cha’s hovering gun-drone continued to beep incessantly, demanding the order to open fire.

“What is that in your hands?” Lynu’cha snapped. “Throw it on the floor!”

The lower half of the man’s face creased into an expression completely out of character for the stoic priests of the Mechanicus - a smile.

“If you insist.” he said.

A small, curved piece of metal went flying off to one side. Lynu’cha’s drone automatically rotated to follow the sudden movement, and as soon as it did so the stranger tossed the rest of the object he was holding towards Lynu’cha and Krii’tik. It was spherical, dark grey, and clinked as it rebounded off the floor directly beneath Lynu’cha’s drone. Krii’tik’s fast reactions saved them - as the object came bouncing towards them he kicked out, whip-cord fast, and his clawed foot sent the metal egg spinning back the way it had come.

The grenade exploded in the space between the Shas’kar’tyr and the stranger, about ten metres in front of Lynu’cha and Krii’tik. The bang was thunderous as sound waves bounced between tightly packed machinery, and Lynu’cha’s drone, caught right in the middle of the blast, spun crazily in the air as metal fragments tore through its casing. More flechettes pinged off the floor or perforated the empty storage vessels; one embedded itself in Lynu’cha’s armour and another sliced through the thick muscle of Krii’tik’s forearm.

A moment later and the warehouse was alive with lasfire, the beams fleeting but blindingly bright in the dim warehouse, spitting from either side of the ground floor and from the smashed windows of the upper control room. Lynu’cha only prevented it from becoming an instant massacre by firing his carbine’s grenade launcher into the middle of the floor.

“Photon!” he roared out, giving his team just enough time to look away and cover their ears before a deafening screech rent the air, magnified by the close confines of the warehouse. This was accompanied by a searing flash of white light which illuminated every grinning Mechanicus skull on the greebled walls. Jagged shadows flickered behind the ladders leading up to the gantry and made a rank of deactivated power loaders against the back wall stand out in sharp relief. More importantly the flash dazzled their unseen attackers and the murderous crossfire slackened for a crucial moment, allowing the team to dive for cover.

******

Shaper Krii'tik registered the grenade only a second before it detonated and kicked out furiously, catching the edge of the explosive and sending it careening between their party and the enemy fleshling. As the device detonated, he scarcely registered the shrapnel wound as its searing metal perforated the flesh of his forearm.

He darted sideways into the pipework, into the darkness, on instinct, just as darkness became light and multiple lasguns began firing from around them. The snap-crack of the discharges, and the pings as metal was struck reverberated through the piping he was crouched behind. "Shas'kar'tyr, shoot to incapacitate if possible!" He roar-screeched as loudly as his Kroot vocal cords would allow.

Peering out from behind his makeshift cover, Krii'tik allowed the hunter instinct to take over. Taking a long deep breath he gathering the scents of the room, from the ozone stench of the lasguns to the meaty scent of the food-prey that was attacking them. Absorbing the scents and allowing his ear-holes to process where shots were sounding from so he could pick out the firing points, Krii'tik turned and brought both of his brutal pulse pistols to bear, aiming low for knee-caps and lower torso shots as he charged into the fray, trying to get as close as possible.

Bursting forward from his cover, he aimed shots at the legs of one human before leaping as hard as his musculature would give, his saw-blade bayonets roaring to life as he slammed one into the leg of a fleshling. The man screamed out as Krii’tik’s chain blade ground against bone, twisted, and withdrew, drawing a crescent arc of bright arterial blood behind it. Krii'tik turned the man to face away from himself as he opened fire with his other pistol at more of their assailants. "Move up, engage them! Do not let them get away!" He roared as he fired off more shots, using the human held tightly against him with his left arm as a meat-shield to ward off further damage.

Somehow the human managed to fight through the pain and draw a combat knife from his boot even as he was pinned by the neck against the Shaper’s chest. He stabbed backwards, aiming for the Shaper’s kidneys, but instead the blade found the meat of Krii’tik’s thigh, biting deep.

Paradoxically, the wound actually saved the Shaper; as his leg collapsed under him it brought his head out of the line of fire of the second human who had turned towards him upon hearing his comrade scream. It was the man who had thrown the grenade, and he had cast aside the fake tech-priest’s robe to reveal standard flak armour and a tanned face, hair bleached to straw colour by the sun. Down on one knee, Krii’tik fired off more shots which punched through the body armour covering the man’s abdomen, shattering ablative plates and tearing through the flak-weave beneath. The man fired back with a laspistol, heedless of the damage he and his former comrade were taking.

Both combatants continued to blaze away, Krii’tik battered backwards as his meat-shield jerked and twisted under the hits, his opponent continuing to fire even as his body crumpled beneath him. Finally his brain caught up with the fact that he was dead and he pitched forward onto the metal floor of the warehouse, his empty laspistol still pointed towards the Shaper. Krii’tik too fell, losing his balance from the repeated hits, but thanks to his armoured meat-shield he was only slightly singed.

Victor dived behind some leftover crates as the warning about the grenade was given. This proved to be a lucky break for him. With the crates providing some cover he was not blinded nearly as bad as he should have been, and this allowed him to see the suddenly revealed loaders standing up on the gantry. A smile appeared on his face.

An artist uses the tools given to create his art.

Victor made his move to the ladders as soon as Krii’tik advanced on the assailants. The dash over was not as easy as he would have hoped; las shots were now coming at him from multiple angles. He ducked down as he reached the first ladder and waited for a lull in the shooting before bolting up to the gantry and sprinting to the first loader. As he expected there were no weapons mounted on them.

Can’t have everything.

Without waiting for an invitation Victor scrambled up the left leg of the loader. It was designed in the same fashion as a Sentinel, only more squat and clearly older than any machine he had driven to date. Once he had gotten up to the hip he squeezed himself in the cockpit, which was open-topped just like a Sentinel but with a full screen on the front to help protect the operator if anything slid in the direction of the cockpit while being moved.

Victor didn’t bother strapping himself in and just plopped down in the seat, immediately searching for the activation stud. While the controls were not set up in a manner he was used to, he found the stud quickly and flipped it to the ‘power on’ position as he started to recite the machine rites he had used before when starting up his Sentinel for combat. With a cough and a wheeze the machine spirit sputtered to life and the loader’s engine started. With a twist of the throttle the engine finally roared to full life.

Wasting no more time Victor commanded the loader into action and simply ran off the edge of the gantry, landing on the warehouse floor with a loud crunch of concrete and causing the assailant he landed next to to practically wet himself. He quickly recovered and raised his rifle to shoot at the loader’s cockpit just as Victor backhanded him with the right arm of the loader, sending him across the space to land next to the dead assailant that had thrown the grenade.

Kade hunkered down behind a piece of machinery and wondered exactly what the hell he was meant to do now. He wasn't a guardsman, he was an ambassador. He couldn't blast people with his mind, even if he wanted to. Lasblasts burned into his cover and he yelped involuntarily as the hot metal spattered around him. He willed himself to be calm, to think it through, but he couldn't, his mind locked up.

This was an ambush, and he was about to die.

Then Victor got into the power loader, and everything changed. Suddenly every gun in the room was focused on him, and the fire on Kade's position slackened to nought. Getting a handle on his fear, he rose, sighted on an enemy, and returned fire as the foe was drawing a bead on Victor in the pilot seat.

He was a soldier, and he would prove it.

******

As the body of the third attacker skidded across the floor in a boneless heap, the rest reacted automatically, turning their lasguns on the new threat. A volley of deadly accurate shots came flashing down from the control room, painting the loader with bright laser light for the briefest of instants, and then there was a sharp crack as the windshield protecting the cockpit exploded into molten shards, the remainder of the laser’s energy searing a savage 3rd-degree burn on Victor’s chest. Splinters of red-hot glass embedded themselves in the Gue’vesa’s skin, one long triangular piece missing his eye by millimetres to bury itself in the loader’s headrest. Victor gritted his teeth and fought through the pain, using his expert control of the walker to pivot it away from the incoming fusillade. More lasbolts screeched down and blew fist sized chunks of metal out of the loader’s back, but Victor was protected by the solid mass of the walker’s power plant.

The incoming fire slackened by a third as Kade took his shot. His target - a wiry woman with a hatchet face and short dark hair - was well-protected, barely visible behind an adsorber column assembly, but the young Gue’vesa’s aim was good. His lasbolt struck the woman in the chest, exposed below her braced firearm as she turned away from Kade to fire on Victor, and knocked her backwards behind the column. On Kade’s right, Lynu’cha was yelling into his radio, his pulse carbine sending bursts of shots towards the control room windows in a vain attempt to keep the attackers there pinned down.

“Kor’la! I need fire support! Maximum suppressing fire on the north-west corner of the building!”

“Negative! Negative!” Anuk’ta radioed back from the circling Devilfish, her eyes darting over the confused icons on her sensor display. “I cannot see where you and the team are!”

“The targets are on a raised level, in the control room! Engage!”

“Copy.” the young Air caste said immediately, her face stiff with concentration as she simultaneously angled the Devilfish thrusters to bank left, reduced power to the anti-grav plates to drop it a couple of metres, and brought the vehicle’s burst cannon swinging round with the aiming link mounted on the side of her head.

The noise of the Devilfish cannon tearing through the warehouse walls was, if possible, even louder than the earlier grenade explosion. Daylight streamed into the warehouse through dozens of fist-sized holes, filtered through the dust and smoke hanging in the air and backlit by the plasma-wreathed projectiles from the burst cannon. For a full ten seconds the glowing shots screamed scant metres over the team’s heads, almost bursting their eardrums with the savagely unequal air pressure. The tops of process vessels and much of the control room roof were sheared off, spalling fragments out through yet more holes in the walls as the shots punched their way out the other side of the manufactorum.

“Jikata’ui, with me!” Lynu’cha shouted over the din. Somehow he had braved the firestorm and the accompanying rain of pulverised metal to run to the foot of the stepladder leading up to what was left of the control room. From there he chambered and fired a second photon grenade, which sailed up through the now-destroyed control room door and detonated with a blinding flash. Leaving Kade and Victor to deal with the remaining attacker on the ground floor, he and Krii’tik stormed up the stairs to take down the last two humans.

"Throne on Earth!" Kade screamed, but he doubted anyone heard him as the Devilfish pulverised the entire room with pulse cannon fire. The sound was awful, like a scream mixed with a bass roar. Then it stopped, and he heard Lynu’cha storm off towards the control room. Kade was mildly surprised to be able to hear anything at all. He nodded at the order, and unsteadily rose, moving from shredded cover to shredded cover to get a bead on the survivor on the ground floor. His lasgun raised and ready, he was going to try to take at least one insurgent alive today, but if he wasn't given that choice he wasn't afraid to shoot either.

******

Victor knew he was going to become the centre of attention for the assailants. That did not bother him. Losing the face shield so quickly though, that he was not happy with. The resulting burn on his chest was a welcome pain. It reminded him of the combat he sorely missed. It would however slow his reflexes a bit, and he would need to focus on fighting and not the art he was creating. He quickly turned the walker around to give himself a moment’s protection and a chance to catch his breath. Instantly he wished he hadn’t. Not only had he lost the protective shield on the front, but the left leg was extremely sluggish. With a few more steps Victor realized he had most likely damaged the hip joint in the jump.

Can’t worry about it now. Enemies must die.

It was at this point that the warehouse wall started to blow apart. Victor, not being able to hear the orders from Lynu’cha for the Devilfish to open up on the building, angled his walker so the power plant would help protect him from the debris now flying in to the rest of the area. If anyone was paying any attention to the walker they would easily see that the left leg was not responding to Victor’s inputs. This did not stop him from returning to the fight once Lynu’cha started to race towards the control room. Continuing the circle he had already started he swung the walker back to face the center of the warehouse where he started to scan for the shooter that Kade had knocked off balance.

It was not long before the surviving assailants from the control room began to open fire on the walker once again. Spying a large chuck of rubble from the shattered outer wall Victor used the left lift arm to pick it up and used the wall piece as a makeshift shield. It helped to limit the damage the walker was taking as Lynu’cha and the Kroot stormed the control room. He then refocused his search for the remaining target the ground level.

“Kade do you have eyes on a target?” Victor inquired over the team’s comms.

Without waiting for a reply Victor went ahead and dropped the makeshift shield as it finally succumbed to the lasfire coming from what was left of the control room - not that it was needed any more, as their attention was now focusing on those about to engage them directly. Nursing the controls just enough to compensate for the damaged left leg, Victor willed the walker forward as he continued to search for his target. Not wasting an opportunity to bait his target he flicked the walker’s external speakers on.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” he taunted as he prowled forwards.

Kade circled round his target’s last known position, only to find that she wasn’t there any more. As soon as he stepped away from the square storage hopper he was using for cover there was a sharp crack and a bright beam of las seared from somewhere on his right. The hatchet-faced woman was crouched between two stacked pipes, her lasgun aimed between them. Four more shots in quick succession chased Kade back into the cover of the hopper. The Gue’vesa’s side felt uncomfortably hot - the flakweave of his long coat had taken the worst of the first blast, but a large patch of it was burned and melted. 50 metres away, Victor spun the power lifter round towards the screech of lasfire and saw the insurgent quickly sling her lasgun and pull out a grenade.

“Grenade!” Erek warned, arriving to the rear of their assailant and crouching behind cover. Not being part of the assault team, the young Gue’vesa had placed himself by the forward loading bay in order to block the route of escape for whoever might have been found inside. On hearing the first grenade blast he had forced his way through the rusting shutter to join the fight. Shouldering his pulse rifle he sighted along its barrel, aiming squarely for the woman’s chest. A certain kill-shot.

"PUT IT DOWN!" He ordered. She had milliseconds to comply, the stakes were too high for anything more.

The woman spun towards Erek, the pin of the grenade out but the safety lever still held on by her closed fingers. Erek was too close for her to throw it without killing herself too, and she knew it. She clawed in panic at her slung lasgun, trying to raise it one-handed towards Erek, but it was a race she was never going to win. Erek fired, the screech of his pulse rifle deafening in the confined space. The shot went in through the ambusher's heart and out through her back, dragging a red mist of armour and bone fragments in its wake. The woman teetered for a moment, an expression of shock on her face. And then she whispered something seemingly random.

“C-Code...Horus.”

The woman's knees hit the floor, followed a moment later by her lasgun clattering to the ground. The grenade rolled out of her nerveless fingers and struck the floor with a clink, its safety lever spinning away.

Victor knew a third round of ugly had just been released upon them, and this time there was little he could do with this walker to help the others. There was little he could do for himself as well. The grenade detonated before he could even get the loader to make a quarter of a turn, and with the hip already damaged the shock of the blast was enough to off-balance the walker. With the floor approaching fast yet again, Victor extended the right load arm and managed to lessen the impact of the fall that followed. When the left leg failed to respond to the controls Victor knew this walker had seen the end of its life. He only mourned the machine spirit for a split second and started to wiggle his way out of the cockpit.

“Ouch.” Victor stated as he pulled himself free and started to look around. “Anyone else survive that blast?”

Victor stood up and pulled his las-pistol as he took a moment to look at the wreck of the walker. Now that is art I would take home.

******

Krii'tik growled and growled loudly, feeling the stab wound in his leg as he got up. He fired a few shots into the back of the already riddled man he was using as a human shield, for good measure. He was no longer taking risks on this hunt. They had blooded him, and that was something these foolish fleshlings would pay for.

Krii'tik heard Lynu'cha's order and ran for the ladder, following quickly despite his injuries. He rushed up the ladder, making sure to stay low and fast, getting to his destination and up the ladder quickly with an economy of movement the Shas’la could not match. As he reached the top of the ladder he immediately moved to engage.

The control room was utterly wrecked; glass and plastic littered the floor and banks of wire had been torn out of the control consoles by Anuk’ta’s burst cannon. On the right hand side of the room a young woman with a lasgun held tight to her chest was slumped against the wall, her face drained of colour and her ash-blonde hair matted and stained red from a neat hole in the side of her head. She looked almost peaceful.

On the left hand side a male insurgent had propped himself up against the consoles, sitting in a viscous pool of his own blood. He too was young, perhaps not much older than Erek and Kade, and there was a gaping hole in his flak vest from where either a pulse round or a piece of flying debris had torn through. He was shivering, and uncontrollably vomiting blood onto the ablative chest plates of his armour. More blood was trickling from his ears from the effects of Lynu’cha’s flash-bang.

"Fire left!" Krii’tik shouted, letting Lynu'cha understand he was going to take the human on the left.

The human opened his mouth as if to roar defiance as Krii’tik appeared in the now-doorless doorframe, but it only came out as a strangled cry, and his hands were shaking so much that even in the confined space his lasgun shots went well wide. The Shaper’s return fire did not.

He fired rapidly, aiming low at the legs and stomach of his target, as he charged in, chainblades roaring to life as he brought himself into close combat range of his target, aiming to disable, not kill. His shots punched into the flakweave over the human’s abdomen and splintered the bones in his unprotected shin. Krii’tik crossed the distance between them in two long strides and batted away the grenade the insurgent had been reaching for, seizing his wrist in a vice-like grip. The human was too weak to fight him. He coughed again, retching up a stream of blood onto the Shaper’s legs.

Lynu’cha appeared at the door a moment later, pointed his carbine for a moment towards the dead girl, then ran to Krii’tik’s side. He swore in Tau as he stooped down beside the rapidly dying insurgent. The emergency stimms in his utility belt’s medipack were designed for Tau physiology, not that of humans.

“Someone!” the Shas’la shouted into his helmet radio, “Get a medkit up here now! I want this one alive!”

Edmund exited from the shadows of the room, looking at the body of the last insurgent before tossing a medkit up to Lynu'cha.

"Boy, you guys sure did a number in here. Apologies, I was searching the area."

Lynu'cha caught Edmund's medikit with a nod of thanks, and pulled out a cauterising laser. He cursed again as the young insurgent fell back and went still, slipping into unconsciousness.

“Jikata'ui, help me get his armour off. Put pressure on the wounds.”

Lynu'cha pulled aside the human's ruined flak vest and opened his shirt to punch an adrenaline needle into his heart. He checked the human's vital signs, but there was no reaction.

“Damn.” the Shas'la said feelingly, sitting back on his hooves with the insurgent's blood spattering his armour up to the elbows. After a moment, he headed back downstairs to hear the reports from the rest of the team. Behind him, the young human's eyes stared glassily up at the pulse-riddled roof of the factory.

******

Lynu’cha handed the blood-spattered medkit back to Edmund and moved over to join the others, his eyes narrowed in a rare show of genuine anger. The situation was much more serious than he had imagined, and while 6 dead dissidents was unquestionably to the benefit of the Greater Good, the lack of a prisoner to interrogate left them with precious little new information.

Luckily, none of the team had been seriously hurt. Worst off was Lynu’cha’s gun drone, which wobbled unsteadily in the air from the blast damage it had received. Lynu’cha offered a brief nod to Victor as he passed the wrecked power lifter. The man was covered in scratches from flying glass, but grinning as he looked down at the remains of his improvised battlesuit.

“Interesting tactics, La’Sorid.”

“It’s what I do, sir.” Victor replied, “Though I really do need a new uniform.”

Victor started to realize just how much his body was screaming in pain at him. While using the walker helped make this fight short, he had once again put himself in the target sight and found himself without a ride yet again. Though he did admit the jump down from the gantry was probably not the best choice he could have made.

Victor holstered his las-pistol and looked down at his chest. He knew he was badly burnt and there were quite a few pieces of glass shards in him. He turned and started walking outside to the Devilfish, pulling the shards from his skin as he walked. He saw people who had heard the roar of the burst cannon starting to crowd in to see what had caused all the excitement, but decided it was best to ignore them and focus on finding a med pack and doing what he could to stay in the fight.

******

The insurgents lay dead next to their weapons, still clad in their shredded flak armour. Where had these Gue’la got hold of military grade equipment? The more Lynu’cha looked around the disused factory warehouse, the less like a hideout it looked. There was no accommodation, no equipment, no obvious hiding space for a cache of weapons and ammo. It looked as if they had simply chosen it as a good place to ambush the Tau team away from the support of their Devilfish. Only they hadn’t counted on the skills of the Gue’vesa, and Lynu’cha’s slightly reckless application of blind fire from Anuk’ta’s burst cannon.

“Kor’vesa 2724,” Lynu’cha began, “Transmit message, channel 1: Shas’kar’tyr unit Aslo 10 has…”

He was cut off by a trio of error beeps from the drone, meaning that its link to the city AI network had been damaged in the grenade explosion. So, with the Devilfish radio also out of commission, they were now without their only other means of contacting the rest of the Shas’kar’tyr. Well Tau’va, that was just wonderful.

“Shas’la.” Anuk’ta’s voice crackled over Lynu’cha’s helmet receiver, “What is your situation?”

“The Greater Good has prevailed, as it must.” he answered, managing with an effort to keep the strain out of his voice, “No casualties, 6 dissidents down. Good shooting, Kor’la.”

“You honour me, Shas’la.” said the pilot, then paused for a moment, “Shas’la, a number of citizens have gathered in response to the gunfire.”

“Then disperse them. This is a Shas’kar’tyr crime scene.” The fire warrior hesitated, “Wait, belay that. Commandeer a pocket communicator from one of them. Tell HQ what has happened.”

He let out a breath and removed his helmet, the grey paint of which was now dust-streaked and scarred by shrapnel, and blinked in the smoky air that clung to the warehouse in the aftermath of the firefight.

“Are you all capable of further action, Gue’vesa?”

"Sir, yes sir." Kade emerged from cover, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise alive. "Something you should know, one of them said 'Code Horus'. That's a PDF code for a failed operation.”

He dusted himself down and looked to the others.

"So that would explain where they got the lasguns, grenades and flak. They either kept it or have access to an armoury. Would you like me to handle the crowds sir?"

“If you would, La’Kade.” the fire warrior nodded. He walked with the young human as he made his way back outside. Passing several more bodies of their would-be ambushers, he noticed that they all had small microphones curled round their ears. He stooped and picked one up experimentally, but it was dead, the last insurgent’s code-word obviously also being a signal to terminate further communications. Still, the Earth caste might be able to glean something from it when they arrived.

Lynu’cha and Kade stepped out into the hot afternoon sun, to be greeted by a small knot of people surrounding their now-grounded Devilfish. Their willowy pilot was motioning them back with one hand and talking into a blue-cased pocket comm with the other. One of the humans was protesting at having his mobile taken off him, while another seemed vaguely amused by it. The others were all gesticulating anxiously towards the pulse-riddled walls of the derelict manufactorum.

“Clean up crew will be here in two minutes, Shas’la.” Anuk’ta said, finally handing the comm back to its protesting owner. “Thank you for your service to the Greater Good, citizen, but there has been an incident here and for your own safety would you please vacate the area.”

“Kor'la,” Lynu'cha said to Anuk'ta while Kade addressed the nervous crowd, “Do we still have the link to the security camera in Revoria Way?”

Anuk'ta nodded, climbing gingerly up the side of the Devilfish and dropping through the cockpit hatch. Lynu'cha followed via the rear ramp, swinging himself up into the belly of the transport. He scrutinised the footage that Anuk'ta played back on the main screen. It fast-forwarded through the last hour worth of video, but no-one had come or gone from the Marrick house since their departure. There had not even been any pedestrians walking past outside.

“I see.” said Lynu'cha, his Tau features as inscrutable as ever, but a dangerous tone entering his voice. Without another word he disembarked and headed back into the manufactorum, where he found Edmund and Mikhailov policing the bodies of the ambushers.

Mikhailov had not been part of the main storm party, content to wait with the second team. When all had gone to hell he'd moved in with the others, cursing the incompetence of his superior for walking them into a trap. The firefight was relatively brief but vicious, Mikhailov had been able to do little more than take cover behind a great rusted support column from the fusillades of lasfire and blaze back in return when it stopped. The power loader leaping to the floor had startled him, and he had stood in fascination as it lurched around the place, swatting combatants like flies. Then it was over, with one last explosion. All assailants were down, no casualties on their side. Even the Bird had survived. Pity.

Mikhailov had moved from cover, lasgun propped against his shoulder as the gunfire stopped. He noted the angry look on his superior's face, though in truth it was difficult to tell with these xenos, Mikhailov simply passed by him and approached one of the assailants attacked by the power loader. The man was obviously dead, crushed by such a weight, but at least his clothes weren't aflame like those struck by lasbolts, or half-destroyed by pulse technology. Which meant that anything they were carrying could be of use.

Slinging the lasrifle around his shoulder to free his hands, Mikhailov knelt beside the figure and began a thorough search. Perhaps he would find something that could tell them more, or perhaps he'd merely satisfy his own curiosity as to whether these insurgents had still been loyal to the Corpse God. If so, he swore they would be hunted down.

"The Emperor does not protect here... not any more!" He grunted fiercely to himself, roughly tugging and pulling at the corpse to make it spill its secrets.

Like Aaron Marrick, the first dissident they had killed, the ambusher carried no ID card, no dog tags and no communications device bar the dead vox receiver on his ear. There was nothing in his pockets, or hidden inside his scuffed shoes. Underneath his armour were grey overalls, the kind that might be worn by any number of menial workers across the city of Tasckird. The armour itself was Valkoran PDF issue, well maintained. The urban-grey ablative plates over the chest and abdomen were slightly different colours, implying that some had been replaced at some stage in the armour's lifetime. At least one of the plates seemed to have been jury-rigged from a different pattern of flak vest. Removing a crushed shoulder pad revealed an Aquila tattoo on the man's right bicep, placed above a short piece of high gothic script reading “Nil Desperandum”.

“Never despair...” Edmund translated, “Interesting tattoo. Might want to check all organizations with that motto, and maybe check the records on all tattoo parlours.”

Lynu'cha shook his head as he stared down at the dead man's arm. “A good idea, Gue'vesa'ui, but there are dozens of tattoo parlours in this city alone, and among the human ones the Aquila must have been one of the more popular devices before the Liberation. It would take a very long time to search them all, and I do not think we have that luxury.”

With their military equipment and now an Aquila tattoo, the fire warrior was almost sure that these were members of the partisans who still resisted Tau rule. He recalled seeing many human soldiers during the Liberation who had borne such tattoos. The Gue'la were fond of marking their skin with symbols proclaiming their dedication to their flawed and unenlightened cause.

Lynu'cha felt equal parts sorrow and indignation towards the dissidents. Why could they not accept the Greater Good, as their compatriots had done? And what gave them the right to murder Tau and other Empire citizens in the name of their barbarian beliefs? More importantly, what were they now doing in the city, when the Shas'kar'tyr had thought them confined to the mountains well south of Tasckird.

Edmund wiped a little bit of dust from his armour. “And I assume our friend up there didn't survive the medical attention?”

“He did not.” replied Lynu'cha, “Which is unfortunate, as he might have provided valuable answers.”

It had already occurred to Lynu'cha that the assassination of Gideon Asaph might have been part of some much bigger operation, which might still be underway in spite of his team's intervention. This ambush was now proof that whatever was afoot, the partisans did not want the Tau making further investigations. And the Shas'la thought he knew who had sent them to this death-trap in an attempt to put them off the scent.

“However,” he added, “I believe I can identify the traitor to the Greater Good who arranged this ambush. Kor'la Anuk'ta has just checked the surveillance cameras, and no-one has approached the Marrick residence since we left. Our communications were down at the time and I did not send any additional message through Kor'vesa 2724. This means that the only person who knew where we were going was the one who sent us there in the first place. Which means,” the fire warrior's eyes narrowed, just slightly, “That citizen Elisabeth Marrick is a mon'tau liar.”

CHAPTER 5

"I wouldn't really recommend charging in there with the team again," Edmund commented while making his way back towards the Devilfish. "I don't think Miss Marrick took the action of certain members of the team very well. She seemed to trust me though."

Edmund eyed the crowd outside and looked down at the bodies of the insurgents. He loosed the armor on his left arm and rolled up his sleeve. There sat a tattoo of the Aquila, the phrase Exitus Acta Probat flowing around it.

"Maybe I could go in as being interested in joining their cause? I'm from offworld, so I wouldn't have the stigma of being a Valkoran who made the wisest decision. I know its been over a decade since I was with the Imperium, but I think I can still BS my way with commands." Edmund replaced the armour before lighting a lho-stick. "All we need is some indication of guilt, correct? Then we can just send her to spend some time with those who are much more trained in this matter. Shouldn't be too difficult."

Lynu'cha looked at Edmund, mulling it over. The idea made sense, especially from the perspective of not creating a scene in front of Revoria Way's other residents.

“That could work, Gue'vesa'ui. Though I assume you are aware that such a course of action would pose a substantial risk to you personally.”

"No risk is too great in the service of the Greater Good, Shas'la."

"Well said, Ui'Cea." replied Lynu'cha, inclining his head to the human. Behind them, a whine of turbine jets signalled two more grey-hulled Devilfish touching down in the courtyard of the abandoned industrial site.

"Alright Gue'vesa, the clean-up crew will take it from here - prepare to move out!"

He passed a medipack from the Devilfish locker to Victor as the short soldier boarded. The way he had fought against the insurgents had at least partially made up for his indiscretion at the first crime scene.

Victor accepted the medpac from Lynu’cha with a smile and sat down to start cleaning himself up. Then he really noticed the state of his uniform and started to shake his head.

“Feth!” he spat out the word with force. “Shas’la, I seriously hope we have replacement uniforms waiting for us. This mess is not going to be cleaned with a simple run through the wash.”

Victor continued to clean up his wounds without looking up to see any of the responses thrown his way. Instead he found himself lost in attempting to clean himself up, wounds and uniform.

Krii'tik came down, looking a little worse for wear but carrying himself with a predatory anger that was obvious. His mouth-beak was splattered lightly with blood, in what looked like a failed attempt to wipe away a recent Kroot meal.

"The Marrick woman, she had something to do with this, I swear by it." he growled. "I smelled something... wrong with her but I couldn't place it. I posit it was fear-sweat from her lies. She will make a good meal."

He growled, low, threateningly, holstering his weapons and making ready to head to the Devilfish. To his surprise, Lynu’cha found himself actually considering letting the Kroot shaper have his way and eat the traitor. He dismissed the barbaric notion a second later.

“No, Jikata’ui.” he said. “We must follow the proper procedures, so that the citizens can be in no doubt that our cause is just. Ui’Cea has a plan that will allow us to apprehend citizen Marrick with a minimum chance of further bloodshed.”

“Ready to go, Shas’la.” reported Anuk’ta from the Devilfish cockpit, the cabin vibrating slightly as she fed power into the gravity plates.

“I want us there in eight rai’kors or less, Kor’la.”

There was a trace of humour in the pilot’s voice as she answered. “Affirmative.”

******

The man called Hiero was still in the civilian clothes he had worn to the botched assassination. He seemed to sag slightly as he listened to the vox operator sitting in front of him.

“All of them?”

“Looks horribly like it, sir. Just the Code Horus from Dietrich and then nothing.”

A pained expression came over Hiero’s face. Soren and his team had been good men, dedicated to the cause. They had volunteered for the dangerous mission to eliminate the Tau investigators and buy them enough time for the rest of the plan to be put into place.

“May He take their souls into safe keeping.” he sighed, “Drake’s not going to be happy about this. Okay, you know what to do, rotate the vox frequencies. And pass me that caster.”

******

Elisabeth Marrick was still sitting in her living room, staring numbly at her hands. She still couldn’t even bring herself to feel angry towards the Tau who had taken her brother’s life. The overbearing Shas’la and his team of traitors were probably dead by now, but it wouldn’t bring Aaron back.

She was snapped out of her morose reverie by the shrill ringing of the phone on her kitchen wall. She got up and went to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Elisabeth, it’s Hiero.”

She had been expecting the call. The warehouse was their standard contingency plan, designed as a way to eliminate any nosy Shas’kar’tyr in a manner and location that could not be traced back to the Resistance. There were indeed criminal gangs in Stratius who could take the blame for a missing Tau, and if they were arrested as a result then it was no less than the underworld thugs deserved anyway. This was the first time they’d had to use the contingency plan, but colonel Drake’s operation was nearing its climax and they only needed to keep the Tau in the dark for a few more hours. In a few hours, Aaron’s death will have meant something.

The comfort which that thought provided was shattered by what Hiero said next.

“Listen, you need to get out of there right now. Soren’s dead, they’re all dead - and once the fish-frakkers realise it was a setup they’ll come looking for you. You hear me? Get out of there now and get to the safehouse.”

It took a moment for the news to sink in, but once it did Elisabeth was decisive.

“Understood.” she said, and slammed down the phone.

******

Anuk’ta had just set the Devilfish down, several streets away so that Edmund could approach alone and put his plan into action, when the live feed from the surveillance camera she had been keeping an eye on for the entire journey suddenly changed.

“I have movement.” she called back into the cabin.

“Who?” said Lynu’cha sharply, leaning forward in his seat.

“Citizen Marrick. She is leaving the house. She is getting into her car.”

"Right. You want me to try and go with her?" Edmund said into a small comm bead on his jacket while walking down the street. He had changed out of his armour into simple street clothing and a jacket, and if one ignored the factthat Edmund had just climbed out of a Devilfish, he would easily stand in as just a civilian out for a walk. Edmund rounded the corner and saw Elisabeth at the door.

"Miss Marrick! A beautiful night isn't it?" he called, waving at her with a warm smile. Edmund closed the distance and stood on the other side of her car. "I'm sorry if this seems strange, but the Fishes wanted us to check in with you and see if everything is alright. You wouldn't happen to have a few moments to answer some quick questions, would you?"

"Oh." said Elisabeth, looking slightly surprised. "I'm sorry but this really isn't a good time. One of my friends has just had an emergency round their place and I've got to..."

Edmund stopped for a second, looking down both streets before looking back at her. He made the sign of the Aquila on his chest. Elisabeth trailed off as she saw him make the sign.

"Look," she said, turning the ignition and putting the small car into gear, "I don't know what your game is but you're scaring me. I really have to go."

Back inside the Devilfish, Lynu'cha and the others watched the camera feed showing Edmund standing in the street next to the car, listening intently to the conversation as it came through from Edmund's comm-bead.

"Are you recording this, Kor'la?"

"Of course." Anuk'ta replied, staring intently at her controls.

******

Edmund removed the bead from his ear. He didn't need the team listening in on what he'd have to say, and he didn't want Elisabeth to suspect anything.

"If you want your world to be free then I can help you. Give me five minutes to explain everything. I'm on your side."

Elisabeth's eyes widened as he removed the comm-bead from his jacket. Then she stared at him for a long moment.

"Get in." she said at last, "We're leaving."

"Lost audio." reported Anuk'ta. "They are moving, headed south."

"Smart move, Ui'Cea." Lynu'cha mused. Ostentatiously removing his wire had been a clever way of gaining Marrick's trust, and they could still track the car through the city's hidden surveillance cameras. "Follow them. Keep your distance."

Anuk'ta nodded, and the Devilfish's turbine engines whined into life.

"I am warning you now, they probably are going to follow us." Edmund said, completely serious.

"In fact, don't be surprised if they try and break up wherever you are meeting. But that is why I am your advantage. The ignorant Xenos trust me completely. I also apologize for the secrecy. I cannot allow any chance for unwanted ears to hear what I need to say or bear witness to what my work is."

He looked out the window, observing the streets pass by.

"All will be revealed shortly."

Elisabeth put her foot on the brake, slowing the car right down. "You think they're following us already?"

When Edmund nodded, she said, "Then I guess our journey ends here, Mr...?"

"Rourke."

"Rourke. I'm not about to lead that alien and his team of fish-frakkers to my friends. Enough of us have died and more are going to, but I'll be damned to the Warp before I add to that total."

"That can be arranged. The Emperor has granted me many abilities. In fact, if I were to wish so, I could just decide to damn your entire world to the Warp. If that is what you wish..." He paused, threateningly. “Otherwise, continue along your path. The more you annoy me the less willing I am to render my services to your cause. You are not going to be able to defeat the Tau with just terrorist actions and insurgency. You have to get inside their actions, inside their facilities. The Tau will not kill those who surrender. Their naiveté is their greatest weakness."

To Edmund's surprise, Elisabeth smiled slightly. "You have no idea what we're doing, do you? And who do you think you are, some sort of inquisitor? You haven't even told me what 'services' you'd be rendering us.”

"In my profession, it is much better to be flexible in your actions." Edmund let out a sigh as he looked at Elisabeth. He really didn't want to have to do this. He pulled the locket out from underneath his clothing and opened it. Soft crackles of white lightning swirled around the item. It changed, revealing a piece of onyx adorned with a crimson letter I, and adorned with the phrase Esse Quam Videri.

"I am Inquisitor Edmund Rourke, by the grace of the Holy God Emperor, Ordo Xenos. If you mention this to anyone outside of what is going to occur tonight, I will personally ensure you find yourself in line to becoming my next servitor. Understand?"

The light faded and dissipated along with rosette, and Edmund returned to looking out the window very bored.

"Now drive."

"Frakking hell." said Elisabeth, and immediately put her foot down.

******

Mikhailov had given the body a kick for good measure, after finding nothing. His colleague suddenly appearing at his shoulder had given Mikhailov a start, and unconciously he'd scowled at the man before stepping away from the body.

"An ambush... I knew it was an ambush, and we walked into it," He muttered to himself as he moved along, then fell silent. Stopping by the entrance of the building, he'd slipped out a lho stick and watched his illustrious leader.

"I'm surprised the Tau aren't extinct, if this is what they have for leadership. Frakking fool..."

Puffing furiously, he tossed the lho stick and converged on the 'Fish. They were going to get the woman, were they? They could have had her thirty minutes ago! Now, one of his colleagues was acting the part of an Imperial, gaining her trust. Altogether too much effort for his tastes; she was an Imperial, she deserved to be made to talk. Being borderline insubordinate hadn't worked, perhaps a different tack would.

"Sir," Mikhailov started within the close confines of the 'Fish, "Why go through this charade? Grab her now, make her talk, and let us know exactly where our enemy are, how many there are and how well provisioned they are. It's better than arriving at yet another potential ambush, or putting our colleague in a position where the foe are too numerous for our single team to rescue him; we've been lucky with our lack of casualties so far, but if you keep putting us in these positions you'll be fortunate to have half your team by sundown."

"That is exactly what we plan to do, La'Mikhailov." Lynu'cha said patiently, as if talking to a child. "We just do not want to be doing it in front of so many witnesses. To be seen breaking into a citizen's house and forcibly removing them before the Water Caste can put together a statement would damage the Shas'kar'tyr's image among the local population, and that does not serve the Greater Good. By Aun'va, you know public relations are precarious enough at the moment."

"They have slowed down." Anuk'ta reported from the front, interrupting the fire warrior's lecture.

"Hold here for a moment." said Lynu'cha, "We do not want to get close enough for citizen Marrick to be aware of our presence, not yet."

Mikhailov was stunned by his superior's reply. The Tau had no clue, none! Mikhailov leaned forward, staring straight at Lynu'cha.

"With respect, sir," Mikhailov began, the last word spat to show anything but, "But 'forcibly removing' a citizen? It's called arrest. Your Water Caste can come up with a reason afterwards, so long as we have her, and it would show her neighbours and spread word that the Tau won't take crap like this lying down. She was the relative of a terrorist, yet she simply says she knows nothing and you believed her! Then, when could have grabbed her when we were first there, you instead nearly have your entire team killed in a damned ambush that you walked into without an apparent second thought!"

He realised he was over the line, and, more importantly, he realised where he was sitting; in a damned Tau APC, surrounded by Tau sympathisers. With a long exhale of breath he leaned back against the 'Fish's hull.

"My apologies, sir, I did not mean to speak out of line. Obviously your tactics are for the Greater Good."

Victor laughed out loud as he listened to Mikhailov’s outburst.

“What sweet music of discord! Greater Good. There is no such thing as Greater Good, there is only survival. And as soon as the Tau learn this, they will truly prove a threat to the Corpse-God of the Imperium.”

He shook his head as he continued to laugh, getting quieter as his focus returned to the disarray his uniform was in.

Shaper Krii'tik cocked his head as La'Mikhailov went about his little outburst, growling deep in his throat, and then when La'Sorid continued the banter with his own laughing remarks, Krii'tik moved. Lightning fast, his pulse-pistols were in his hands, one with blade whirring quietly at the throat of La'Mikhailov, the other aimed steadily right between the eyes of La'Sorid.

"I find lack of faith in the Greater Good to be a very distasteful concept. You will check your tongue in my presence, lest you regret it. The Greater Good is the only reason you should live for, the Tau should be thanked for their enlightenment."

His arms never wavered, and he simply watched the two, waiting to see their reactions, and that of Lynu'cha.

Victor looked up at the weapon that suddenly appeared between his eyes. This he had not expected, and it thrilled him. This Kroot was a true artist, and he did understand. Victor knew that Krii’tik understood what the true meaning ofGreater Good was.

“As I said, survival is my Greater Good,” Victor’s eyes went from the weapon to the Shaper. “I survive, therefore I serve the Greater Good. Trust me, I have been enlightened.”

“Peace, La’Sorid.” Lynu’cha said warningly. And then, to Krii’tik, “Jikata’ui, your loyalty honours the Greater Good, but you may stand down.”

Krii'tik withdrew his pistols, disarming them and reholstering them just as quickly as he had produced them. "As you will. For the Greater Good." he said, though he did not break eye contact with Mikhailov for a moment, before returning to waiting.

“Ui’Cea and citizen Marrick are on the move again.” Anuk’ta cut across the argument hesitantly, slightly tense in the aftermath of Mikhailov’s outburst, “Still heading south. Accelerating.”

“Stay with them.” Lynu’cha said, without taking his eyes off Mikhailov. How very like a pre-Liberation Gue’la the man sounded. The tactics of the Greater Good were not his to question - nor Lynu’cha’s for that matter - but could the human not see that now was not the time to antagonise the people of Tasckird with fear-based law keeping? It might produce results in the short term, but it would damage the Tau’s popular image, and humans were volatile creatures. Obviously the people of Valkora were better off under the benevolent rule of the Tau than that of the oppressive Imperium, but until the Tau could convince them of such he and the rest of the Shas’kar’tyr had to tread carefully. Shas’el Val’roth, the commander-in-chief of all Fire caste operations in Tasckird, had emphasised as much.

Lynu’cha felt the burden of command like a weight on his shoulders. He accepted his place at the head of this squad of Gue’vesa, but Mikhailov was only rekindling his old distrust of the aliens he had fought such bitter battles against during the Liberation. He took a breath to calm his thoughts. He could not serve the Greater Good if he allowed his personal feelings to rule his judgement, but it was clear that he could no longer work with La’Mikhailov. He felt a certain disappointment in the fact - the man had abandoned the Valkoran PDF of his own free will to join the Greater Good, and Lynu’cha would have thought him a better candidate for the Shas’kar’tyr. Perhaps with time and education the man’s attitude could be changed, but for now he was a liability, undermining Lynu’cha’s authority and the morale of the rest of the team. When the fire warrior spoke, his tone was calm but glacially cold.

“You overstep, La’Mikhailov. When this mission is complete, you shall be transferred to another post. There is a place for you in the Greater Good, this I do not doubt, but it is clear that that place is not with my Gue’vesa.”

The Tau sank into silence, more morose than angry. Was Mikhailov’s fury a product of his innate incompatibility with the Greater Good, or Lynu’cha’s own failings as a commander? Human faith in the Tau as protectors was already shaken by the loss of the Zeist colonies, and now they had loyalist insurgents operating within their own cities. Now, even members of Lynu’cha’s own squad were affected by anger and doubt. This pro-Imperial movement had to be crushed, quickly and with care. Lynu’cha would prove himself equal to the task, just as one day he would prove himself worthy of the rank of Shas’ui.

“Tau’va!” Anuk’ta suddenly exclaimed from the Devilfish cockpit.

******

Without warning, the front left wheel of Elisabeth’s car exploded. There was no flash, no audible gunshot, but the car juddered violently as a quarter of its support suddenly vanished. Elisabeth slammed a foot onto the brake, and the blocky vehicle slalomed for a moment as she tried to regain control, then went into a full spin. Edmund was thrown sideways in his seat and Elisabeth’s head impacted against the driver’s-side door pillar. The car mounted the pavement and only came to a stop as it slammed backwards into a wall, whiplashing both occupants forward against their seatbelts. There were few other cars on the road at this time of the afternoon, but a transport van coming the other way screeched to a halt, and a trio of passing schoolchildren shrieked in alarm. Edmund looked up, pain searing through his neck and back, and saw Elisabeth slumped unconscious against the steering column, bleeding heavily from a gash on the side of her head.

******

The frakking bird...

Mikhailov had taken his eyes from his superior when the Kroot suddenly intervened, the whirring of the chain weapon extremely loud in his ears. He'd locked eyes with the creature as it threatened him, and he couldn't hide his fear of the Xenos before him, a fear that had been born of years of teachings and general human xenophobia. Fear... and hatred.

Would it slit his throat?

Finally his superior called off the bird, and as the distance between them widened Mikhailov visibly sagged. I'll kill that frakking bird, so help me I will... His superior's words weren't much better, effectively kicking him out. Mikhailov leaned forward and spoke softly. He'd best fix it; he'd worked so hard to convince them that he believed in the Greater Good, he couldn't lose it now.

"Sir, I apologise; it's just I was given a blessing when you showed up and chased the Corpse-God from my home. I thought others would feel the same, yet insurgents working in... His Name... cause terror amongst us. I didn’t mean to mock the Greater Good, but I feel that in some cases we need to be a little more heavy-hande-"

The explosion outside killed his small speech as the world went to hell.

Krii'tik's quills rattled with agitation, but he remained silent, awaiting orders.

"Set us down next to them!" Lynu'cha snapped to Anuk'ta as he saw what had happened on the surveillance feed. "Make sure Ui'Cea and Marrick are alright! We have already lost two potential prisoners today and I do not intend to lose a third!"

The Devilfish tilted forward almost 45 degrees as it accelerated, skimming rapidly over the intervening traffic with a howl that caused passing pedestrians to flinch and cover their ears. Anuk'ta braked heavily as they approached the crash, rocking the skimmer in the air, and Lynu'cha leapt from the transport's rear ramp as soon as it began to open, the recent argument forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Jikita'ui Krii'tik jumped out of the Devilfish, running down the rear ramp and posting himself near the rear of the vehicle. He kept a wary eye on his surroundings; for all he knew this was an ambush and he would not let his fellow Shas'kar'tyr fall for such a ruse again.

"Someone check them, I will keep an eye out for possible assailants." he growl-squawked loudly, drawing his pistols and circling, watching their perimeter.

Victor rushed out of the Devilfish with the rest of the team, pulling his laspistol along the way. He was close behind Krii’tik as he took up position behind the damaged car.

“I’m on it!” he called out in response.

Moving as swiftly as his battered body would allow, Victor approached the driver’s side door and saw that the window had been shattered. Elisabeth was slumped over the wheel, blood running down her face. Victor reached in and checked her neck for a pulse. He finally found it, but it was weak. Looking past the woman he saw Edmund, who was awake and slightly dazed. From the slow movements he was making, it was clear he was also hurt.

“The woman is alive, but needs medical attention. Edmund is conscious.”

Victor started to pull the door open but the damage was making it difficult for him. With a few jerks the door popped off its latch and he finally had access to the woman. He inspected the damage to the inside of the car and determined that he would be able to get her out. Before lifting her up, Victor carefully moved her head back against the driver’s seat; he then noticed the jagged piece of metal in her left leg, clearly the source of her blood loss causing the weak pulse.

“I need metal cutters! Her leg is pinned!” Victor yelled back to the others.

Edmund looked around briefly, the sounds of traffic and the Devilfish engines tearing into his skull. Releasing the clasp on his seat belt, he slowly pulled himself up and rubbed his forehead.

"What the hell hit us?"

"I was about to ask you the same question, Gue'vesa'ui." Lynu'cha said as he passed Victor the cutters he had asked for. "Kor'la! Get the medical table folded down and ready! La'Kade, please disperse the crowd."

It wasn't really a crowd, but the three schoolchildren remained rooted to the spot on the other side of the road, and the driver of the van had leapt from his vehicle, asking what was going on and if there was anything he could do to help. Shaper Krii'tik scanned the perimeter with his keen Kroot senses, but he could see no assailant, and no-one appeared to be attempting to rapidly leave the area. If it had been a shooter and not some sort of explosive device, they were evidently long gone.

“Thanks.” Victor said as he took the cutters. “Okay, this is going to hurt, but I need to cut the metal away from the vehicle so I can get you help.” He spoke aloud not knowing or caring if the woman could hear him.

Working quickly, as he knew the longer she bled the less likely it would be she would survive, Victor started to cut the metal a few inches above Elisabeth’s leg. Her body twitched involuntarily as he worked, no doubt causing her more pain. It took Victor close to five minutes to cut the metal free. He then lifted her out of the car and walked briskly back to the Devilfish where the medical bench was waiting.

“She’s all yours.” he said as he placed her on the bench.

Anuk’ta nodded her thanks, and set about securing Elisabeth to the med-table with a series of restraining straps before wiring up the bio-scanner and pulling out rolls of gauze from the transport’s first aid locker.

“Situation?” Lynu’cha asked brusquely, appearing at the rear ramp.

“She will live.”

“Good.” Lynu’cha nodded. “Do not administer too many drugs. I want her able to answer questions when she wakes up, and she has a lot of questions to answer.”

Lynu’cha joined Edmund and Victor by the crashed car, taking a look at the front left wheel housing. There was no significant scorching, which ruled out an explosive device, but something had sheared right through the axle. He looked around for the severed wheel, which was lying some distance away. Kneeling with Edmund beside it, the fire warrior noticed a gaping hole in the wheel. It looked as if a laser bolt or a high-calibre bullet had punched through from a slightly elevated angle, at just the right point to carry on and break the axle connecting the wheel to the car. But what sort of gunman could have pulled off such a shot on a moving vehicle? Not to mention the more obvious question: why? Lynu’cha looked around carefully, but like Krii’tik he could not see any obvious places where an assailant could have been hiding.

******

"Okay people, let’s move, nothing to see here, please disperse!"

Kade’s voice cut across the arguments, easily sending most on their way without them really thinking about why they where suddenly leaving. This was getting worse and worse, Kade thought. The squad was getting angry and they where turning up dead ends everywhere, or else bodies. Edmund had been hurt. Elisabeth had been hauled clear of her car, but still… He headed over to the Devilfish pilot.

"Did the cameras catch anyone at her house? Was there any reason she left all of a sudden? If you can find that out through your comm network please do so."

Anuk’ta looked up from her medical instruments. Elisabeth’s head and leg were now wrapped in thick white bandages, upon which red spots were appearing as blood from her injuries gradually seeped through.

“No-one has approached the Marrick residence since we left.” the Kor’la answered, reaching out a spindly arm to hit a button that set the surveillance footage playing back once more on the troop compartment screen. “HQ should be able to access her phone records, but I cannot retrieve them from here, and as you know our radio is inoperable.”

A whine of turbines and a downwash of hot air announced the arrival of a second grey and yellow Devilfish. A helmetless fire warrior with a familiar bionic-studded face dropped from the side hatch before the vehicle had even touched the ground.

“Although.” Anuk’ta amended her previous statement, “You could ask them.”

“Shas’ui Es’ka.” Lynu’cha acknowledged the leader of team Caor 6, straightening as the other Tau jogged over.

“Shas’la Lynu’cha.” Es’ka returned the greeting. This time, he remembered to speak in Gothic for the humans’ benefit, “I assume your radio is still not working. We had to track you here by your vehicle transponder.”

“We have not had time to effect repairs, Shas’ui.” Lynu’cha replied, slightly tersely. “As you may have heard from the Fio now cleaning up over at Stratius, the insurgency is potentially much worse than we feared.”

Es’ka looked around the crash scene, his yellow-lensed bionic whirring as it focussed. “What happened here?”

“We have apprehended one of the dissidents,” Lynu’cha explained, deciding to leave out the bizarre circumstances of that capture for the moment, “But she is wounded. We are stabilising her for interrogation. No civilians have been injured.”

“Some good news at last. And I have some for you - we have interviewed the family of the murdered citizen, Gideon Asaph, and they have been able to identify the blue and white bracelet you picked up. It denotes membership to an organisation calling themselves the Cult Pacifica.”

Lynu’cha frowned, having never heard the name before. “And they are?”

“A pro-Tau movement that has apparently been operating out of one of the old Imperial churches for the past few kai’rotaa, after the previous pastor died during the Liberation. Their senior member lives there permanently and I believe it would help if we were to interview him. They are an exclusively human organisation, so the presence of your team’s Gue’vesa would be appreciated for ease of negotiation.”

“As the Greater Good dictates, Shas’ui.” Lynu’cha bowed.

“My team and I shall accompany you.” Es’ka turned to look at shaper Krii’tik, who was still patrolling the perimeter. “I trust the Jikata’ui is working well with your team?”

“He has been an asset.” Lynu’cha said, trying to put the earlier disagreement with Mikhailov out of his mind.

Shaper Krii'tik continued to look around, watching as the civilians dissipated, slowly making their way away from the area. He glanced at the wheel that had been blown out and grunted to Lynu'cha.

"That was no accident... The shooter seems to have made away long before we could spot him though, this hunt is growing ever more intricate." He grumbled.

“I concur, Jikata'ui.” said the fire warrior, also frowning down at the wheel, “The question though is who fired, and why.”

"I am finding this hunt to be more and more troubling." Krii'tik squak-growled, sheathing his pistols, and prowling back towards the Devilfish.

******

Mikhailov snarled in frustration as he followed the others out of the 'Fish; their enemy was gone...again! At least his superior was looking to wake the woman; she may die, but her information may be vital.

"Sir, permission to question the woman once she is awake?"

"Why don't you leave that to me." Kade looked at the woman and shook his head sadly. "I'll probably have more luck, after all it is what I'm hear for."

He crossed his arms and looked at Mikhailov.

"What we need is an even temper and a soft touch. She's got nothing to fear from us if she's at deaths door, so just shouting and threatening violence is not going to work."

Mikhailov turned from his superior towards his fellow…Gavayla, or whatever the hell he was called, his features hard.

"You think she's so willing to die? I don't. She might delude herself that she'd die for her Corpse-God, but give her the choice between life-saving medical attention and a painful death, I'll bet you she'll take the help. Course, if you pussy-foot around her, she'll end up dead before we find out anything."

Mikhailov stepped forward towards Kade; something about the way the Tau-lover crossed his arms, his comments and generally air of superiority irked him. "And violence solves EVERYTHING. You'll learn that eventually."

Lynu'cha listened to Mikhailov and Kade's suggestions. “I will leave the interrogation in your hands, Gue'vesa. Begin with simple questioning, and then...proceed as you see fit.”

He felt slightly troubled saying it, as if he was giving up a little of his moral authority by resorting to human tactics. But the Greater Good had to be served, and that was the only moral authority of consequence. At least he could leave it in the hands of the humans, and thus not dirty his own Tau hands with the more barbaric elements of the interrogation.

Hearing the authorisation he craved from his superior, Mikhailov nodded to the Tau. "Yes, sir." he replied crisply. Turning back to Kade, as his superior's attention was diverted by the pilot and the woman's purse, Mikhailov leaned in towards the psyker.

"You got five minutes; any longer and she'll end up dead. You don't get anything from her with your softly-softly methods, then it's my turn."

******

Victor returned to the car and agreed with Lynu'cha and Krii'tik’s assessment of the crash. The tyre had been shot out, and from a good distance as they had all failed to notice any gunmen. Whoever the shooter was, he or she was a true artist of their profession. He chose not to mention this; his mood had been getting darker ever since the shoot-out at the factory. As he turned to walk back to the Devilfish, Victor's eyes caught sight of a strap in the door.

Looking closer he found a purse inside the pocket of the door. Something worth looking at Victor decided. He down and pulled the purse out of the door and opened it up. As he looked in he found it rather empty compared to the purses he had seen in the past. Taking care not to drop anything, Victor dumped the contents out on the roof of the car. He noticed the ID, keys, money, make-up, and mobile phone, nothing out of the ordinary. What did get his attention was the comm device sitting in the middle of the pile.

"Shas'la." Victor called out. "I think lady luck just smiled upon us."

Victor smiled as he picked up the comm device, turned around and held it up for the others to see. Lynu'cha looked up, and saw what Victor was holding.

“Evidence.” he nodded in satisfaction, and then moved over to take a closer look at the device. Shas'ui Es'ka joined them, looking down curiously at the communicator.

“This does not appear to be standard Gue'la issue.” the bionically-augmented Tau commented.

Lynu'cha nodded again, “We will be sure to ask citizen Marrick about it when she regains consciousness.”

"Shas'la," Victor gave the device to Lynu'cha, "I have the feeling we as a squad are a bit outclassed in firepower. Whoever made that shot is very good, and we can't even tell from where the shot was made. I'd even go so far as to say that it is time to open the armoury and bring out the heavy weapons."

Victor doubted that the Shas'la would agree, but it needed to be said. And even if he did agree, there was no way they would let him pilot one of their battlesuits. At best he would get a scavenged Sentinel. That of course would be fine by him. Right now he felt naked and their foes were still two steps ahead of them.

“United we stand, Gue'vesa'la.” put in Shas'ui Es'ka, fixing Victor with his mismatched eyes. “I have already contacted HQ and requested the precautionary deployment of Urban Pacification Battlesuits while the threat of insurgent activity remains high. Because Shas'el Val'roth is arriving in the city in the next few Decs his security naturally has priority, but they are considering my request.”

******

Kade stepped back quietly from Mikhailov. He didn't seem to like the Imperium, or the Tau very much. Just whose side was he on? His own, Kade suspected as he made his way to the wreck. He nodded to Anuk’ta.

"Bring her round but keep her on painkillers, for the moment at least."

The young Air caste nodded, and shot the woman with a stimm. Kade knelt down next to her. As her eyes fluttered open, he fixed them with a hard stare.

"There isn't much time. Tell me everything you know right now about what's going on with the insurrection." His voice was firm and steady, laying on the psychic charm thick and fast. He had little time to work and he needed everything he could get.

Elisabeth looked up at Kade, her eyes slightly glazed from the mix of concussion and painkillers. This was to the young Gue'vesa's advantage, as for a few moments she had no mental defences in place to resist his psychic persuasion.

“The insurrection...” she croaked, “Tonight we take back...make them pay...His will...”

She coughed, and winced at the dulled pain this sent shooting through her head.

“Hurts.” she whimpered. Then her conscious mind seemed to resurface, because her eyes cleared a little and she looked slowly round at the interior of the Devilfish before coming back to Kade and Anuk'ta standing over her.“What...what are you doing to me? Where am I?”

"TELL ME." The voice hit like a hammer. Kade had never shouted before with the voice, not like this. It made his head hurt a little. "What will happen tonight? What will the insurrection do?"

Elisabeth leapt upwards against her restraints.

"KILL THEM ALL!" she screamed, her eyes wide. Then she spasmed, and blood started running from her nose, setting off a series of alarms from the bio-scanner as she fell back against the medical table and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

"Greater Good, La'Kade!" exclaimed Anuk'ta as she set about stabilising the prisoner's vital signs, "What in Aun'va's name did you just do to her?"

Kade stepped back, shocked. "I…I don't know. She might have been fighting it somehow…but I think she was telling the truth. I think they are planning something truly horrible, and soon."

Mikhailov was standing close to Kade, listening to his interrogation of the Merrick woman. He was getting some answers, but not enough, and not quickly enough. It was strange how when Kade questioned her, Mikhailov felt a weird and not entirely pleasant sensation run through him; it was almost like he wished to pour his heart out to the man, and had he known anything, he likely would have.

Psyker...A small voice in the back of his head suddenly sounded, and Mikhailov's features set hard. Frakking psychic trickery! Damn him for not noticing soon enough!

Mikhailov moved close, stopping very close to Kade. "You're running out of time... witch."

******

Edmund continued to look around the car, trying to figure out anything he could about the shot. He looked everywhere the round could have gone. Probably flattened on impact anyway. He looked up and eyed Mikhailov. The man would never learn to be a faithful servant, his tactics were too extreme. If he tried to hurt Elisabeth, he would have to intervene. That girl was too important. He turned back to his work.

There was no bullet that Edmund could find, but the damaged sections showed signs of flash-vapourisation, suggesting an energy weapon. From the fact it had penetrated the wheel and severed the axle, its power had to have been on par with at least a hellgun - maybe even a single shot from a multilaser. Definitely not standard issue - at least, not for the Valkoran PDF.

"Shas'la, Shas'ui. We are up against individuals who may be far more dangerous than imaginable, possibly the same group as those who once led me astray when I served the Imperium. I would recommend looking over recent civilian shipping and travel to this world. Have we kept the necessary documentation of passports?"

Kade's shouting sent a thread of pain through his head. He still wasn't over the wreck. The Tau of course, blunts that they were, were oblivious.

"To what group do you refer, Gue'vesa'ui?" Es'ka asked, cocking his head.

"I suppose we could do so." said Lynu'cha, "But it would take some time. From what I remember, almost all traffic to this world has been from Ke'lshan and Katlon." He nodded towards La'Blerr as he mentioned the young man's homeworld, "And they have been carrying mainly aid supplies and equipment for rebuilding Valkora's infrustructure, not immigrants."

"I would not credit it that there could be enemy agents working so deep within the Empire." Es'ka said angrily.

Lynu'cha remained silent. With Ke'lshan being historically so xenophobic its non-Tau population was minimal, whereasthe humans of Katlon were among the most loyal of the Liberated colonies, but he was not willing to discount anything at this point.

"Perhaps we should ask HQ to do a search, just in case?" he said at length.

"I suppose thoroughness and caution further the Greater Good..." Es'ka admitted, and headed back towards his Devilfish and the one functioning radio the two teams had between them.

"Shas'ui," Lynu'cha called after him, "What was the name of the human we are to meet with?"

"Faradn." Es'ka replied, one hand on the side hatch of his vehicle, "Citizen Joshua Faradn."

"Faradn." Lynu'cha repeated slowly, "Perhaps he can help us unravel this mystery."

******

Alexander Jalousies clambered out of the transport and stormed through the warehouse's main door.

“Clear.”

The words haunted him as realized that Lynu'cha's team had already left, although the other clean-up crews were still here. He surveyed the room. Machinery parts, equipment, bodies and weapons were scattered everywhere.

“What the hell happened here?”

Alexander walked around the room leaning over the closest body. Military-grade flakarmour, XL pattern lasguns. These were Soren's men. The contingency group who would only be deployed in an emergency. Emperor’s mercy.

“La'Jalousies,” asked Demesk once they were back in their Devilfish and on their way. There had been nothing they could do to aid in the clean-up, and all Shas'kar'tyr units were now on high alert. “Would you mind explaining why these dissidents are equipped in a strikingly similar fashion as you?”

“We fought for the same unit during the liberation.” Alex answered curtly.

Shas'la O'ran blinked at him, considering the implications. Alex could see that she did not suspect him yet, but her next sentence was nearly as damaging.

“La'Michael, perhaps you should escort La'Jalousies back to HQ. It must be hard for the arbiter and we do not want personal feelings to affect his efficiency.”

Alex's heart rate spiked. He needed to be on the front line for this. Moreover, he needed to keep tabs on Elisabeth. Taking him away from the action like this would never do.

“Sorry, Alex.” Michael was saying as O'ran gestured for their pilot to slow down and stop.

“Let go of me.” Alex snarled, “I can walk on my own.”

“La'Demesk.” O'ran said slowly, reading danger signs in the man's face, “Take the arbiter's weapon.”

While O'ran looked on in concern, and Jamir in undisguised disgust, Alexander turned in his seat to look at the video screen that was projecting an image from their vehicle's hull camera. They were in Krosus plaza. There were children running around outside, not far from the Devilfish.

Them or her.

Steeling himself, Alex placed his hand in his pocket, reaching for a small communicator as he pressed in the button, arming the bomb that he had attached to the underside of the Devilfish that very morning. Alexander wrapped his hands round his seat's safety harness and closed his eyes.

"For the Emperor."

The Devilfish jolted, then he blacked out.

CHAPTER 6

Kade stepped out of the Devilfish to get some air. Had he done that? Had she? He shook his head, it didn't matter. He had a duty to do. He marched over to the Tau commanders.

"Sir" he nodded to the other unit leader, "I think I can safely say that whatever the rebels are planning, it’s happening tonight, and will be on a very large scale. I think it would be wise to have all Tau civilians off the streets and have the garrison be ready for just about anything."

Es'ka looked over his shoulder and nodded. "I will take it under advisement, Gue'vesa'la."

"The prisoner told you this?" Lynu'cha queried. Kade nodded.

"I have stabilised her." said Anuk'ta, appearing at the rear ramp of the squad transport, "But I would not risk awakening her again via stimulants, at least not right away."

Lynu'cha nodded. "Then we shall question her properly later. Alright Gue'vesa, we need to move. Time is no longer on our side."

It was now late afternoon and the sting had mostly gone out of Valkora's unforgiving sun as Anuk'ta's Devilfish streaked west between the buildings that flanked one of Tasckird's arterial roads. The second Devilfish holding Shas'ui Es'ka and his team followed closely behind. Their destination was Aotoris district – the location of the repurposed church where the organisation calling themselves the Cult Pacifica apparently gathered, once every seven rotaa. It seemed an odd number to Lynu'cha, but he had heard that the original human homeworld had used 7-day units for timekeeping since long before the Tau had even existed, and the Gue'la apparently clung to this tradition across many other worlds, fitting it around the different lengths of day and year dictated by the local solar calendar. The Pacifica were due to meet today, though not for several decs if they followed the usual schedule that citizen Asaph's family had told Es'ka, and so it was a perfect opportunity to get some answers from their leader without having to deal with all of his followers as well.

However, fate intervened when they were still about two Tor'kan away from their destination, in the form of a warning light on Anuk'ta's dashboard. The team's radio might be out, but the sensor that was keyed in to the transponders mounted on all the Shas'kar'tyr's Devilfish still worked fine, and one of those Devilfish was transmitting an automated distress call. Lynu'cha recognised it as quickly as Anuk'ta.

“Report, Kor'la.” he commanded sharply.

“Black box beacon from Devilfish Caor 8.” Anuk'ta replied, her eyes skimming her sensor screens, “They suddenly stopped on the east end of Krosus plaza, the beacon went up almost immediately after.”

“Caor 8?” Lynu'cha repeated, “That is Shas'la O'ran's team. Get us there so we can provide her with assistance.”

The team Devilfish pivoted on its cushion of air and screamed away down a side street, followed closely by Es'ka's Devilfish whose crew had drawn the same conclusion.

Anuk'ta had the skimmer's burst cannon powered up and ready as they swooped into Krosus plaza, but it turned out to be an unnecessary precaution. Krosus lay at the top end of the main road south out of the city, and had once been a leisure garden with a large bronze statue of the Emperor dominating the centre. Both the garden and the statue had been destroyed during the battle for Tasckird, and although the rubble had been cleared the plaza was still little more than a field of scorched earth. The desolation was compounded by the smoking wreck of a Devilfish that lay in the middle of the road at the east end of the plaza. People were screaming – some were crouched in dazed huddles, and some were crouched in panic over unmoving bodies, while others had simply clustered around the immobilised Devilfish in morbid fascination. Smoke poured from a hole in the underside of the vehicle, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning. As the team watched, the scorched side door of the vehicle swung open, and a single human in grey carapace armour began to crawl painfully out of the wreckage.

“Tau'va!” Lynu'cha exclaimed, “Kor'la, set us down here and then hold station in case of an ambush. Gue'vesa, form a perimeter and render aid to any survivors.”

******

Dazed and disorientated, Alex awoke in the disabled craft. He was alive. He was alive!

Alive, but not unscathed. He looked down to see his old carapace vest embedded with a overly large piece of shrapnel. He emplaced his hands over the piece of metal and pulled will vengeance, removing the shrapnel from his vest.

"Praise the Emperor, you have not abandoned us yet."

He could have chuckled at the fact that it was his old wargear that had saved his life, but that would have to wait. He tried to move his arms, then realized the transport’s safety harnesses were still in place. He attempted to push the button that was no longer there and sighed. Groping for his combat knife he proceeded to cut into the straps, each slice giving him a sense of freedom.

With a thud he jerked loose and landed face first on what was previously the broadside of the vehicle. He looked around and saw the bodies of the rest of his squad. The stench of death had already begun to fill the cabin. Alexander stood and gained his bearings, equipping his rebreather and las rifle in the process. He looked around for an exit.

"That will have to do." he muttered as he climbed for the port side hatch. He lifted himself out of the vehicle and sat atop the wreckage. He pulled the Tau-issue radio from the front of his chest plate.

"This is Alexander Jalousies of team Caor 6. We have six Arbi- Gue'vesa down, and the driver and Shas'la are also KIA. I am bruised and my armour is damaged but I am otherwise unharmed. I request backup, I repeat, I am requesting backup."

******

All Victor could think about now that the action had slowed for the moment was the dirt and blood covering his uniform. He was in total dismay as he turned his jacket over in his hands. It was now beyond hope of being cleaned and repaired. Then he noticed the bloodstain on the collar. He studied it, how it flowed over the top and down the inside, not unlike a slow moving river, lazy in the dim light of the cabin. Smooth flowing and relaxing. As he continued to study the stain his mind slowed down and he felt his muscles begin to relax. Ignoring the dirt that covered him, his mind slipped back in to the art surrounding him.

As he looked around the Devilfish he started to notice the wounds that the rest of the team had suffered, and everywhere he looked he saw art. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind he knew that he would soon be seeing even greater works of art this night. The Marrick woman had ordained it. Yes, he knew this was going to be a splendid night.

And then the show began. An alarm sounded and word was passed - another Devilfish had been hit and gone silent. As the two Shas’kar’tyr teams arrived on the scene, Victor took in the beauty of the wreck. The main body of the Devilfish was torn asunder. A gash ran from where the starboard engine use to be located all the way to the cockpit; the canopy shattered and the pilot’s face shredded by the glass. The missing engine was now embedded in a civilian ground car, the driver now trapped and unrecognizable as being human. Clearly this was unintended collateral damage, though to Victor’s mind the driver seemed to lie a dramatic pose, as if getting ready to lift the engine up and toss it aside.Beautiful…

“Gue'vesa, form a perimeter and render aid to any survivors.” Lynu’cha’s words finally broke through Victor’s thoughts. Seeing one of the hatches facing skyward begin to move, the sentinel pilot dashed for the wreckage and started to climb up. The going was not too difficult, yet Victor felt the keen edges of the damaged transport and was rewarded with fresh cuts on both hands. He finally reached the top just as he heard the last words of the survivor reporting in.

“Fear not, oh valiant survivor. We have arrived.” Victor stated as he reached out to help Alexander down. “Is there anyone else left to pull out?”

Alexander denied the gesture.

"No need my fellow soldier of the Imperium, I am able and will hop down myself. As for the rest, there’s nothing we can do - the whole interior splintered with lethal shrapnel."

Behind him, Krii’tik cocked one of his avian eyebrows. Soldier of the Imperium indeed... He was not sure how he felt about this yet, part of him hoped that the man was simply in shock from the explosion and thinking of his past life. Part of him immediately jumped to the seemingly crazy conclusion that the man was a loyalist, although surely a true loyalist wouldn’t be this blatant about it. However Krii’tik was not one to ignore his instincts, and so the shaper decided that he would watch him very closely. If he was some type of sleeper or infiltrator, Jikita'ui Krii'tik would not hold back from punishing him for his ignorance.

Alex knelt, judging his height, before putting both hands on the wrecked Devilfish and jumping to the ground. The greatcoat he wore over his carapace armour billowed slightly as he landed. Alexander took to both feet and stood with perfect posture.

"Arbiter Alexander Jalousies at your service." He looked to the Tau Shas'la. "I would prefer to keep the name, as the Greater Good will allow me to respect my beliefs. Isn't that right, Tau?"

Lynu'cha regarded the survivor, his face impassive, but not liking the man's arrogance. Shas'la O'ran was a colleague of Lynu'cha's – they had served in the same hunter cadre during the Liberation. Unlike Lynu'cha however, she was more optimistic and held fewer reservations about the recently conquered humans. She was also rather easygoing with her subordinates, which might explain why she, like Lynu'cha, had not yet achieved Shas'ui rank. If this survivor was used to O'ran's more lenient command then perhaps that explained his behaviour. It was however obvious that the survivor would have to come with them, and Lynu'cha was not sure whether to slap him down now, or ease him in gently for the sake of a smooth transition. He decided on a compromise between the two.

“The Greater Good respects the beliefs of all its client races, provided they are not detrimental to the whole.” he said stiffly, “But by the same token, you will address me as Shas'la.”

"Yes Shas'la.” Alex smirked,“I see we are going to be mutual friends. I am going to look around, search the bodies, bins, gutters, nearby alley ways for suspicious equipment. They have got to have dropped a detonator or something suspicious."

Lynu’cha nodded curtly, and walked past the self-styled arbiter towards his disabled transport. He stooped by the side door and took a long look at the bodies inside. The Air caste pilot was slumped over his controls, and five Gue'vesa and their Tau leader lay together in the transport compartment, red and blue blood pooling together in the footwell. Although his stoic Tau features showed little outward sign, Lynu'cha felt the beginnings of rage boiling up inside him. The deaths of the Gue'vesa were a tragedy, but Shas'la O'ran was a sister in arms who he had fought alongside for the last three Tau'cyr. His caste knew it was their duty to give their lives in defence of the Greater Good, but to die far from the front lines, from a roadside bomb planted by a faceless member of the species they were assigned to protect... a fire warrior deserved better.

As Lynu'cha bowed his head in a moment of silence, he felt Shas'ui Es'ka's hand upon his shoulder.
“A Shas'kar'tyr team murdered,” the other Tau was saying, and his voice bore traces of the same anger that Lynu'cha felt, “Civilians killed in the blast...if the Water caste want a story to turn all of Tasckird against these dissidents, than they have it here.”

“Or against us for failing to protect them.” Lynu'cha muttered as the two fire warriors made their way back to the group.

******

Alex looked back at the destroyed vehicle. Definitely not my day. He thought as he turned around and looked back to the others.

"What I am doing out here, I cannot say…” He shook his head and attempted to lose some of the disorientation. "On a patrol sweep with La’O’ran, that was it, but I guess I am travelling with you now." He grasped his lasgun and walked towards their Devilfish.

Edmund dropped down from the Devilfish and eyed the area before a throb shot up his back. He reached down to grab some painkillers from his gear, his hands finding nothing. He was still in civilian attire. The man who climbed out of the Devilfish on the other hand was wearing an Arbites greatcoat, and specifically said something that cause a twitch: “Soldiers of the Imperium”…Edmund would have to watch him carefully.

******

Mikhailov had started suddenly when the woman had seemingly gone berserk, crying that they would all die. For a moment all he could do was stare at Kade as the Tau apothocary stabilised her.

"Fething psykers..." He'd muttered as Kade dashed by him, going to help the survivor like a good lapdog. Mikhailov continued to watch the woman, hand resting on the handle of his knife. Maybe the woman would give more information, if he got his chance, but it sounded like the chances of her waking again were slim. Damned Imperial... Maybe he should finish her now...

He shook his head, and moved away. "Get a grip," he told himself as he headed to the rear ramp of the 'Fish; he'd already nearly blown things with his superior, and he needed this. His family needed this.

He leapt from the transport ready for action, but the sight of the downed 'Fish made him stop a moment. The IED had done its damage all too well, and civilian casualties could be seen amongst the debris. His comrade, the walker pilot, had dashed for the stricken 'Fish, and begun to help a man from the wreckage. For his part Mikhailov moved towards the vehicle, weapons shouldered and scanning the surrounding buildings from roof to window to door and back, turning a slow spin as he took in all areas.

Screams of the wounded, the dying and the hysterical reached him from all sides, and as he approached the 'Fish he noticed several bodies lying close to where the old statue had stood. There were around half a dozen, all of them younger than 12, huddled together. Close by lay wooden sticks, fashioned into crude toy weapons. He stopped, moved close. Young, innocent faces gazed back, eyes open yet sightless. Around them, the remnants of the stone statue was pockmarked and shattered, smoke spilling slowly from individual holes were the shrapnel inside still retained its heat.

Innocents... real innocents. Playing, living their lives as best they could... and then taken, by those... fanatical butchers... For a moment Mikhailov lost his cool, and sank to his knees. Just like his sister Natalia, taken before her time by the damned Corpse God's followers. The Cardinal had said she had had daemons in her head. With shaking hands moved forward, closing the children’s eyes and granting them their final rest. There was wetness on his cheeks; was he crying? He didn't know, though the world blurred around him. And so he sat, silently, amongst the dead innocents, and as the tears flowed his rage grew colder and harder. Had the Marrick woman been there, he'd have slit her throat in a heartbeat.

"We'll kill them all..." He whispered to the dead, leaning close, "We'll kill them all for you... for Natalia."

******

Krii'tik jumped from the vehicle, eyeing their surroundings and growling to himself.

"This hunt is getting far out of hand." he said to Edmund as he stood beside him. "Are there any other survivors?"

Lynu'cha shook his head. “As well as destroying the anti-gravity plates, the explosion caused lethal spalling from the inside walls of the vehicle. It is a miracle that even 'arbiter' La'Jalousies survived.”

The Kroot growled. "I'm beginning to think the Marrick woman's words rang truer than we thought. If we're going to bring out everything the Shas'kar'tyr have, I would suggest they do it sooner rather than later, or it may be too late."

“HQ contacted me during the journey.” Es'ka put in, “Given the apparent threat to members of this Cult Pacifica, they are going to dispatch a battlesuit team to remain on station in Aotoris. Shas'vre Mal'caor'shas and his squad are mobilising and should be there within an hour, two at most.”

“Shas'vre Fire Spider?” Lynu'cha exclaimed. Mal'caor'shas was a veteran fire warrior, not of Lynu'cha's cadre but still very much known to most in the Shas'kar'tyr. The Shas'vre was famous for his tireless furthering of the Greater Good, though also for being less than subtle in its execution. If HQ was calling on Fire Spider, then Lynu'cha knew that they were taking Es'ka's requests seriously.

“Shas'ui!” called a voice from Es'ka's Devilfish. It was Kor'la Shai'is'ray, Es'ka's pilot, and he was leaning awkwardly out of the top hatch as the Earth caste that made up the rest of Es'ka's team piled out and set about the belated process of area damage control.

“Kor'la?” Es'ka called back, turning.

“I have retrieved the passport records that the Gue'vesa'ui requested. I cannot see anything immediately suspicious about them, however.”

******

Alexander Jalousies didn't like it - he was a noble born and as such it was a disgrace to handle the dead. He knelt and patted down the dead surrounding the scene.

"Nothing too particular."

He moved to search the nearby stores and trash bins. He proceeded down a nearby alleyway, placing his lasrifle against a dumpster. Alex placed both hands over the lid and slowly leaned into it. He took the detonator from his pocket and was about to throw it in, but then he had a better idea.

“They’ll just find it anyway… better to give it to them myself, take the suspicion off me.”

He looked up and looked around as he heard a noise. He unholstered his laspistol and aimed his flashlight down the dark narrow path. As he rounded the next corner. He felt a coldness on the back of his neck.

"Ah ah ah, give me the detonator and turn around." Alexander complied. "You were supposed to let us dispose of it for you. You forget where your loyalties lie."

"My loyalties are to the Emperor of Man, I am helping you the best way I can. Do you think I want to be spotted, declared as a threat to the Greater Good? No. Now give me that detonator and let me go back to my squad."

"Go, remember we are watching you, for the Emperor."

"For the Imperium."

The insurrectionist tossed him the detonator as Alex began to walk back. He picked up his weapons, holstering them, and appeared back onto the street. "I found something!"

Lynu'cha looked up and took the proffered detonator. It was a clean but unremarkable radio transmitter, of the type the humans called a “vox”. It looked like one of a standard pattern that was manufactured at any number of sites across Valkora, but Lynu'cha certainly remembered seeing it among the human PDF. As expected then, this was the work of the Imperial loyalists. The earlier setbacks had obviously not stopped them from wreaking havoc in Tasckird. Lynu'cha passed the detonator around the team to see if they could draw any more information from it, and beckoned Jalousies towards the Devilfish.

“If you are to come with us, 'arbiter'.” he said, “I had better fill you in on the situation. Earlier today a human citizen, Gideon Asaph, was murdered by what we believe to be pro-Imperial dissidents, members of what was previously thought to be a minor militant faction operating out of the southern mountains. We have already clashed with these partisans twice, and most recently captured one of their informants.”

He pointed into the Devilfish cabin, the isle of which was taken up by a med-table. Stooped over it was Anuk'ta, keeping an eye on the restrained and comatose form of Elisabeth until she was needed again to pilot the Devilfish.

“That,” Lynu'cha said tonelessly, “Is citizen Elisabeth Marrick, who attempted to send us into an insurgent ambush and has therefore been classed as an enemy of the Greater Good. She was injured during her capture, but we intend to interrogate her about the dissidents and their agenda as soon as she regains consciousness. This,” he made a respectful gesture towards Anuk'ta, who returned it, “Is our pilot, Kor'la Ke'lshan Anuk'ta.”

The fire warrior turned in a circle to indicate each of the other members of the team, “That is my subordinate, Gue'vesa'ui Bentu'cea. And my squad – La'Kade, La'Sorid, La'Cenk, La'Pike, La'Mikhailov, La'Blerr, and Jikata'ui Krii'tik.”

The introductions over, Lynu'cha turned back towards Jalousies. “Our current objective is the meeting place of a movement calling itself the Cult Pacifica, which is located in the Aotoris district. The late citizen Asaph was known to be a member of this organisation, and we hope the Cult leader can shed some light on why the dissidents wanted him dead.”

"I see Shas'la.” said Alexander, “One from the same group that killed the rest of my team and tried to kill me?"

He walked over and studied their prisoner, placing one hand over her wrist.

"Is she stable? Have we ran background checks on her? Finding out where she works and who she works with could be important."

He motioned back to Elisabeth. By the Emperor what have they done to you?

******

While the Shas'la and the arbiter talked, Es'ka's pilot Shai'is'ray carried a data pad over to Edmund to show him the results of the search. As the Kor'la had said, nothing immediately stood out about them. The numbers were comparatively low, as aside from vital tasks such as security and reconstruction, the Tau had not wanted to start full-scale movement of colonists to and from Valkora until the planet was fully pacified.

The official immigration list for the entire planet contained 412,874 Tau from Vior'la, primarily Fire caste to aid in security across the planet. 634,735 from Ke'lshan, some of them reinforcements for hunter cadres depleted in the occupation but mostly Earth caste aid workers sent to help in the reconstruction. 518,029 from Tol'ku, of all castes - not only were fire warrior reinforcements needed, but also the skills of Tol'ku's ethereal diplomats, and those of its Water caste administrators and propaganda experts, to try and win the hearts of the unstable natives. The total also contained 125,376 aliens from various Empire client races – Demiurg, Nicassar, Kroot and the like. Finally there were 853,481 immigrants from Katlon, and it was this tally that contained the most humans, for the Tau had wanted indoctrinated members of the same species to help ease the transition and set an example for the indigenous population.

Somewhere among the long lists of names of course was Edmund himself, along with the other members of his squad who were not native to Valkora. Edmund flicked through the data for a moment to search for any usable information. The pilot was correct, no case break could be figured out in time. Pensive, he wandered back towards the Devilfish.

“You know,” Alexander was saying,“I could use my experience as a Chastener and see if I could get any information from her.”

"I don't think that's possible right now.” said Edmund,“She's in critical condition. Besides, aren't your methods a little... extreme?"

“I've already done my best with her.” put in Kade,“Whatever they are doing, they are doing tonight.”

Kade had done his best to disperse the bystanders, and under the effect of his voice they had left in a hurry. But he felt tired, exhausted. He had never pushed himself this much in such a short time. He wouldn't be using the power in a while, that was for sure. He took a swig from a bottle of hydration fluid he had retrieved from the Devilfish. After everything else he had gone through today, one more crashed Devilfish didn't seem so shocking.

"They must be tracking patrol routes and coordinating very well to hit us when we are isolated. They've been planning this, and extensively, for a while now. And it all happens tonight."

"If I didn't know better," Victor started to say as he walked around the crashed Devilfish, "I would say they had inside help."

******

Mikhailov was unsure as to how long he had spent sitting with the children, but eventually he'd thought to look up from his silent vigil. Nothing could be done for them... for now, anyway. But vengeance for them, for Natalia, it would come. And it would be violent, and bloody, and the deluded followers of the Corpse God would recognise their folly for what remained of their pitiful and short lives.

Rubbing his arm across his nose, snorting loudly, he stood and turned away from the scene, spitting a goblet of mucus to the ground. He reached down and retrieved his rifle, and rubbed his eyes to hide any trace of the tears. He arrived back at the group as they appeared to be discussing potentially interrogating the prisoner again. Mikhailov listened for a moment, then spoke up.

"She knows something. The psyker got a little out of her, but nearly killed her in the process, and whatever she knows we MUST know it. If we cannot trust the psyker to obtain the information, then we need to get it in any way possible."

For a moment he stopped, watching the Sentinel pilot investigate the wreckage.

"Or..." He started, speaking slowly as though thinking his thoughts aloud, "Perhaps we could bring the advantage back to our side? The terrorists don't know her current condition, could we allow word to spread that she is helping us, that she is willing to betray her comrades?" Mikhailov looked to Edmund. "If we allow news of her location, a safehouse or temporary storage area, to be leaked, perhaps the terrorists will try and get her back, or at least attempt to silence her. A trap, and new suspects, who will need to be interrogated to the fullest extent of the law and further, though we can ensure our Tau comrades look the other way at the correct time. Don't want to offend them, after all."

Mikailov had a point, Edmund mused. His plan could work to their favour - or it could fail miserably and give nothing to their cause.

"You have a point, but do you think the enemy is interested in prisoner rescue? We're facing an enemy that prefers death to capture, do you really think they'll rescue her? Remember they fired on her car. However, if they are planning something big, maybe putting this information out could work in our favour. Say she told us everything; throw them off track. Then we can hit them with the Mont'ka. I would support this tactic; counter the rebellion and destroy it with our forces, it is much better than just waiting for the enemy to attack us.”

The move was risky, but he was born an Elysian and fought alongside the Vior'la. Risk was in his blood, but he was aware that his superiors might be different in opinion.

“The call isn't mine however, I may only recommend. Shas'la?"

Lynu’cha hadn’t heard Mikhailov’s conspiratorial exchange, but the man had been on his mind. Perhaps the best place for him was in the mountain pacification cadres, fighting the insurgents on the front line where his lack of subtlety would be a strength rather than a handicap. That is, if he could learn to work effectively under the command of a Tau. Edmund’s question brought the Shas’la over, and after his second-in-command had explained the plan again for his benefit, he paused thoughtfully.

“I agree, Gue’vesa’ui - the dissidents may not even know that we have one of them prisoner yet, and it may take too much time for any leaked information to filter back to them.”

“Command would frown on using the dissident as bait anyway, Shas’la.” Es’ka warned, “I understand the need to interrogate the prisoner as quickly as possible, but after that procedure dictates that she be imprisoned for trial and sentencing. HQ would want the humans to see that fair Tau law is being upheld.”

“This is true…” Lynu’cha mused. Not just because Es’ka outranked him, but because he had tried his best not to damage the image of the Greater Good during this operation, and he did not wish to start now. But which path served the Greater Good best? Which would save more Tau - and human - lives?

“But in any case, we must interrogate her first.” he added at length, “Kor’la, how long before you can have the prisoner awake again?”

“Perhaps half an hour?” the pilot shrugged, “But I cannot promise anything.”

“You should hasten to the meeting with citizen Faradn.” said Es’ka turning his mismatched eyes back to Lynu’cha, “Shas’vre Mal’caor’shas should join you within an hour, two at most, but after this…barbarity.” he turned and indicated the carnage across the plaza with a sweeping gesture, “I am afraid I cannot join you. Someone must remain to sort out this mess.”

“Honour Shas’la O’ran for me, Shas’ui.” Lynu’cha said, “She was of my former cadre.”

“Shas’la O’ran died in the service of the Greater Good. There is no greater honour.”

Not like this, Lynu’cha thought bitterly.

“Honour the Gue’vesa also.” he was careful to add as he climbed back into the squad Devilfish.
Edmund remained for a few moments in the devilfish, getting his armour and gear back on before taking a quick painkiller pill to deal with his aches from the wreck. His eyes fell on Elisabeth for a brief moment.

One woman who could prove the undoing of all of our work here. She'll be remembered as either a Saint or a Demon. This will certainly be interesting.

Mikhailov, who was just a little put out that his idea was shot down so quickly, went back to sitting silently in the 'Fish. The way he saw it, his commander didn't really like him, though his performance earlier may have given the Tau reason; still, not liking one of your team didn't mean you didn't consider their ideas. Right now it seemed like his glorious leader only trusted the word of the psyker, the Tau-lover and the pilot.

Yet, despite it all, he found he was not angry about it. The sight of those children, and the emotions he'd felt at the time, meant his petty feelings about his commander were rather moot. Oh sure, he still despised the Tau in general, and his commander was an incompetent fool, but at that moment the only real emotion he could feel was a cold and violent rage directed towards the Imperium and these terrorists. His hand tightened and released against his lasgun as he rode in silence, knuckles whitening under the pressure. Eventually, when they reached the chapel, Mikhailov did not intend to even bother about asking to search the premises. He didn't care any more; he'd seen their bracelets, and he'd seen them before, and he'd find SOMETHING that would make them his.

Lynu’cha remained subdued, and spent much of the journey staring at the comatose form of Elisabeth, the tangible embodiment of all the chaos the dissidents were wreaking. When she awoke, he would be almost glad to turn his back and allow the Gue’vesa to do whatever was required in the name of the Greater Good.

******

Anuk’ta touched the skimmer down in Aotoris district fifteen minutes later. The church was a simple building of red stone, bleached yellow over time by the equatorial sun. By human standards it was quite plain and free of decoration, though the arched windows and doorframes still spoke of typically gothic Imperial design. The doors were of thick wood that appeared to have been recently replaced, judging by their rich colour and still-bright varnish. Perhaps the previous doors had been damaged during the Liberation - or maybe the Tau had removed them themselves for bearing unsuitable Imperial iconography, probably under the guise of generously offering to have the worn doors replaced with new ones.

Edmund eyed the perimeter of the church before looking back at the team. They'd need to keep an eye out for unwanted company. "Anyone familiar with this church?"

Alex turned to Edmund. "The central church in the Aotoris district, on the corner of what use to be the streets of the Emperors Divine and the Emperors Judgement. The previous Planetary Governor lobbied to refurbish and rebuild this chapel into a grand cathedral, but this was put down by the populace on multiple occasions as the Emperor doesn't judge by a man’s wealth. Know your enemy Edmund, it is the only way to win."

Alexander brushed his greatcoat and proceeded towards the church.

"He looks for enemies where there should not be one." Krii'tik whispered quietly as the man swaggered away. The Shaper was taking a long look around the building, taking in details of what would be good ambush points and where best it would be to go to cover. Edmund nodded at the Kroot.

"He lacks any understanding of who his superiors are as well." he said in Tau as they headed after the others.

******

Victor spent the time it took to get to the chapel trying to brush dirt off of his jacket. He was getting cold and wanted to put the jacket back on, only it was filthy and he could not bring himself to do so. He was also distracted by the newest member to the team. For some reason he refused to accept The Greater Good, and this seemed odd to him. While working for the Tau was no better than serving the Imperium, at least here he was still alive and they pretended to care for his wellbeing. Lost in thought, it wasn't until the others started to disembark that Victor realized they had arrived.

Still feeling sore from the fight at the warehouse Victor was deliberately slow following the others out of the Devilfish. This gave him a front row seat to Edmund getting ready to put Alexander in his place. Though Victor doubted it would change anything. He also noticed the displeasure the Kroot was showing in reference to the newcomer. Victor could tell great art was on his mind.

"I'm going to hang back and keep a wider eye on the area." he called out as the rest of the team entered the chapel.

Ensuring his laspistol was loose in his holster, Victor began scanning around the exterior of the chapel. Ignoring the newly replaced doors, nothing stood out as unusual. The streets surrounding the chapel were relatively placid. Victor heard a mag-lev train pass in the distance and saw pedestrians trudging past on their way home from work, but there was nothing untoward happening. At least, not yet. This bothered Victor. In his experience, when nothing stood out, trouble was close by. He hoped the battlesuit team would show up quickly - he had a gut feeling that this afternoon’s fight had just been the warm up.

Leaving just Anuk’ta and the prisoner in the Devilfish, Lynu’cha shouldered his weapon and removed his helmet, before pushing on the arched doors. They swung inwards to reveal an interior as spartanly decorated as the outside. The only notable decoration was a tapestry hung above the preacher’s pulpit, which showed two hands clasped in friendship. One hand was human, dark skinned like the majority of the native Tasckirdi. The other was blue and had only four fingers - presumably a Tau.

There were two humans going to and fro about the church, lighting candles for the evening mass. One was a man and the other a woman, both clad in simple white habits. Taking their dress together with the tapestry above, Lynu’cha now thought he understood the symbolism of the blue and white wristband that the late citizen Asaph had worn as a badge of membership to this so-called Cult Pacifica.

The two humans looked up simultaneously as the team filed into the church, and immediately put down their candles.

“Welcome.” the man said in Tau as he crossed the nave of the church towards them.

“You may speak your native tongue with us, citizen.” Lynu’cha replied in Valkoran low gothic, “Am I to assume that you are Joshua Faradn?”

“As you wish.” the man said, inclining his head as he stopped in front of the team. His voice had a refined quality to it, every word carefully enunciated. The man himself was not particularly tall, but well built - even handsome with his chiselled features and dark hair. Looking down at his wrist the team saw that he too wore a blue and white twist of cord. There were some sort of markings on the skin underneath, but they couldn’t see properly because of his sleeve. The girl who twined her arm around his as they faced the team was a doe-eyed young woman with a round face and a straight, dainty nose. She was dark-skinned, suggesting that she was native to Tasckird or one of the other equatorial cities.

“And you’re right,” the man added with a slight smile, “I am Joshua Faradn, and this is Mira.”

"Father,” said Alexander, not wasting any time,“We would like information on your parishioners, it is important to an ongoing Arbiter investigation.”

Faradn frowned in confusion, "Information on my parishioners? I'm afraid I don't quite understand, sir."

Alexander looked around the main hall, and tried a different tack. "Can I take a look around?"

Faradn nodded, "Of course. Our living quarters are through the back. We can move there if you'd like to sit down somewhere more comfortable, although," he looked around at the 10-man team, "It might be a bit crowded."

He turned around to look at Edmund, who was still watching the area for any movement.

"You can stand at ease, my friend, I assure you nothing is going to attack you under my roof. I just wish I could say the same for everybody in this city..."

Edmund had not said anything, and Faradn had not been looking at him as he surreptitiously glanced around, but somehow the cult pastor had known that he was looking for ambushers. To Edmund it was a mystery, but to Kade the answer stood out as clear as day. He had felt it as a faint tingling at the back of his mind as soon as he had stepped into the church.

Joshua Faradn was a psyker.

Kade blinked in surprise. How was that possible, the Imperium… But the Imperium isn't here any more. And turning yourself over to the Tau is voluntary. He might not even know. He approached the priest, and bowed slightly.

"Brother Faradn, may I have a brief word in private?"

Faradn offered Kade a calm smile. “I think I know what's on your mind, brother.”

"I'm sure you do, brother." said Kade.

“Mira,” said Faradn, turning to his companion,“If you could look after our guests for a moment?”

The girl called Mira nodded. “I hope you're here to protect us.” she said to Lynu'cha as Faradn and Kade retreated to a quiet corner of the church.

“Well.” the fire warrior replied stiffly, “Yes and no, citizen.”

Mira frowned at that. “So why are you here?”

******

Kade followed Faradn into a series of rooms, most likely the ones he used to prepare for services, Kade mused. There was a distinct smell of incense lingering over everything, but apart from that the place was well maintained, orderly. Kade sat, and steepled his fingers, and watched intently as the young priest did the same.

"So, how long have you known about your gifts?"

It was an open-ended question intended to draw a response; not hostile but…inquisitive. The others had things well in hand, for the moment.

The handsome preacher smiled thinly as he replied. “All my life. Thirty years of hiding my ‘gifts’ from the Imperial authorities, knowing exactly what would happen to me if they found out. I foresaw it, you see.”

He touched his forehead, and as he did so his white sleeve rolled back slightly to reveal a little more of the strange marks on his wrist and forearm.

“The Imperium would have called it impossible, heresy even, but I found my own ways of controlling my powers. Unlike the Tau, they wouldn’t have given me the chance.”

Faradn pushed his hands out across the table, and used them to lever himself back onto his feet.
“The Tau can give us some measure of freedom and justice, brother, justice that was sorely lacking on this planet under the Imperium. Not just for me, but for everyone in Tasckird, everyone on Valkora. That’s the message that I want to spread. But right now that justice is being undermined. One of my parishioners was gunned down in the street today, and I demand that the Greater Good does something about it!”

Anger had entered Faradn’s voice, and now there was no doubt as to his nature, for the words entered Kade’s mind on the psychic level as well as through his ears. It gave the cult leader’s voice the impression of echoing and chorusing all by itself.

“If you have no other questions, brother.” Faradn said after a moment, his voice now subdued and back to its original, precise cant, “Then I would like to address the matter with your team leader.”

******

Edmund walked back into the Cathedral and took a seat on a podium. His headache was waning and the veteran looked at the sights of the church. It truly was a beautiful building. The woman, Mira, was still standing beside Lynu'cha.

"Miss, I hope you don't mind my asking, but how did you come to know Father Faradn?"

"How does anybody meet?" Mira shrugged with a smile. "He only set up this church four months ago, before that he worked with a friend of mine at the Golgonev steelworks. She knew Joshua was an artist in his spare time, and that I liked art, and she introduced us. That was three years ago, and things just kind of grew from there."

“A priest and a painter? Busy man.”

“It’s… important to him.” Mira said carefully. “And Joshua’s not a priest - at least not an ordained one. He plays the part very well though.”

“And you have only been here for four months?”

Mira nodded, “Yes. Before that we lived in a small hab-stack on the other side of Aotoris. We’ve been running the Pacifica for longer, but it was only recently that the parishioners clubbed together to help us buy this place - so we could have somewhere big enough for us all to meet.”

“Has he spoken anything about his time before?”

“Of course,” Mira frowned at Edmund as though she found the question strange, “He’s my partner, why wouldn’t he?”

Edmund turned his head towards the exit, looking out at the street. "Have you received threats before?"

Mira’s face darkened. “Yes. No end of them. Some people call Joshua a traitor for the message he preaches. We were hoping you could do something.”

******

Mikhailov exited the main church through a door behind the pulpit, crossed a short hall, and by pushing open two other doors found himself first in a modest kitchen, and second in what was obviously Faradn and Mira's living quarters. A double bed took up one wall, while a desk and a bookshelf were squeezed along another. An easel was set up in a far corner, and the walls were covered with paintings. One that stood out was a rendering of Krosus plaza, back in its heyday, but it was picked out in drab and depressing grey. Illumination came from several bright beams of light, cast by something just out of sight among the heavy clouds. Most of the pictures were more alarming. They were invariably coloured mainly in shades of red and orange, and depicted scenes of violence that matched the angry palate. One showed what looked like an enraged mob storming down an open street towards the viewer, bodies left trampled in their wake. The largest showed the skyline of Tasckird gutted by fire, and the streets in the foreground were choked with corpses. The dead included both humans and Tau, rivulets of red and blue blood mixing purple as they ran into the gutters.

Alexander walked around the central hub and the adjoining living quarters after Mikhailov. Mikhailov’s lasgun was now in his hands; thankfully the preacher and his concubine had not followed, as he imagined there could have been some alarm to his wielding a weapon.

“Place looks clean,” Alex soothed him.“A few old Imperial Script works and aquilas. But no signs of suspicious equipment. If you don't mind I will like to look around the courtyard as well.”

Fool, Mikhailov thought. The outside of the church wasn’t important. This was. Mikhailov's weapon had lowered as it was clear no-one was in the room, but he stood and silently watched Alex leave. When the call came to follow, Mikhailov ignored it.

Instead, he approached the books and began to lift them one at a time. Nothing particularly incriminating or suspicious leapt out at him; they were simply Imperial scripts and books, on the lighter end of the Imperial firebrand scale. Mikhailov allowed a small smile to crease his features as he remembered back to the sermons he'd been forced to sit through. He was sure none of these were powerful enough for the bastard priest who'd warned him every week about the alien, the mutant and the heretic. Thankfully, those books - and the priest - had burned.

Mikhailov began to take the books by their spines, shaking them so as to dislodge any hidden items within. Once finished, he unceremoniously dumped them back down, leaving a mess which he made no effort to repair before he moved on. A quick check under the bed also generated nothing, and so his eyes were drawn back to the paintings.

Slowly he approached them, a sudden sense of unease creeping over him with every step he took. The artist was obviously skilled, though his subject matter was macabre in the extreme. Gazing on the pictures, he noted the dead lying in the street, both human and Tau. It was strange, but he didn't remember that level of devastation during the invasion; if anything, the Tau had been careful to avoid as much collateral damage as possible. Moving closer, he leaned forward and studied the picture of the charging mob. The quality of the work was really exceptional, individual faces drawn in startling clarity. Yet...

Mikhailov took a grip of the picture and turned it around. He knew what he was looking for; his brother had been something of an amateur artist, and he'd always scrawled the names of his art and the date of completion on the rear of the canvas. Mikhailov didn't know what he expected to find, but something was causing him a great deal of unease and he didn't like it.

On the back of every painting were the initials "J.F". The plaza scene was dated 2 years ago, and the others were more recent. The one with Tasckird in flames and bodies littering the streets was the newest - less than a month old. Mikhailov studied the paintings one at a time, viewing the details marked on the rear. Altogether there was nothing suspect about them other than the artist's twisted subject matter, but he just couldn't drop it.

******

Alex turned and headed for the rear Chapel door. He exited to see the once peaceful chapel plaza. The old plaza statues were removed and there pedestals plain and empty. The grass and weeds beginning to take over from the once spotless pearly marble.

"Comrade Edmund, come over here." Alex pointed to the entrance of the crypts.

"You will address me as Gue'vesa'ui or as Sergeant, Arbiter." Edmund retorted, "And what is it I am supposed to be viewing?"

"It would seem, Gue'vesa'ui," Alexander almost spat at the word. "That I have found an entrance to the chapel crypts. If you would only give me a hand opening these doors."

Alex slammed the bud of his lasrifle against the old lock, and the metal gave way. He put his rifle down and grabbed one side of the panel.

"Come on now, we may find something."

Jikita'ui Krii'tik followed them. He stuck to the shadows, listening to the disdain Alexander carried at just using a Tau word and he shook his beaked head, quills rattling. Some simply took time to adjust to the Greater Good, but if this one was a traitor, Krii'tik would eat his heart.

"I will stand guard over the entrance. If anyone happens, yell for me." Krii'tik said as held the door open for them. Then, in very quietly whispered Tau, he said to Edmund: "Watch him. If he tries anything, yell the word firebringer."

Edmund nodded as he followed Alexander. The lock to the crypt was old and worn, judging by the fact that it had given way to a single blow from Alexander's rifle butt. The door hinges were stiff with rust, which spoke of how long they had been left untouched in this arid climate. Down a short flight of steps was the crypt itself, which was a cramped affair of yellow stone with six or seven coffins of previous preachers set into recessed walls below simple arches. The place smelled of must and Alexander and Edmund could hear rats skittering about somewhere out of sight. The thick stone construction made the crypt cold in contrast to the streets above, and dark save for the light shining down the stairway that the two men had entered by. Torches hung in brackets along the walls, but the oil in them had long dried up. The floor was covered by a thick layer of dust, and the general impression that Edmund and Alexander got was that the place had not been disturbed in years.

Alexander wiped away the cobwebs surrounding one of the now extinguished torches. "Looks deserted. Probably hasn't been used in years. You head up, I'm just going to have a quick look around, as looks can be deceiving."

He grabbed his torch and slowly moved it across the room. He began to walk around the edges and placed a hand over the wall. He brushed his hand over an old Imperial Eagle, removing the cobwebs from its resting place. Then he moved on to the nearby coffins; he looked around trying not to disturb them. He motioned his light over the names, taking each in and praising the dead that they never saw what their world became - a vassal to the alien Tau.

Alex switched off his torch as he moved back to the surface, watched all the way by Krii’tik. Once the Shaper was sure that there was no immediate danger, he began a slow patrol of his surroundings. He moved with a comfortable gait as he prowled along, but with an agile, predatory grace that was fear inspiring in its economy of movement. This hunt was indeed beginning to get under his skin. He couldn't put his claw on it, but something about it sat wrong with him and he wished he could figure out what it was.

Alexander meanwhile slowly walked back to the Devilfish. He was quite comfortable that there was no compelling evidence regarding himself and the rebels. The comforts of the other team could be eased as the rebels wouldn't attack holy ground. But Alexander wouldn't tell them that.

He looked around and walked up the rear ramp of the skimmer, he needed to speak to Elisabeth.

******

“We don’t know, sir.” Hiero was saying to his sandy-haired superior. “Whatever happened, she didn’t arrive at the safe house.”

The blonde man didn’t show it, but losing both the Marricks - brother and sister - in one day was a sad turn of events. But it was his unfortunate job to see the men and women under his command sacrifice themselves in His name. He had lost men before, and the Emperor knew he was going to lose more.

“If she’s still alive,” he said, “The best thing we can do for her is go ahead with the plan. If not, well, she’s at His side now.”

They broke off the conversation as someone else entered the drab grey room.

“What’s the story, corporal?” the sandy-haired man asked, returning the salute of the young woman in civilian clothes who had just come to attention in front of him.

“Got them running about like blue-arsed flies, sir.” the corporal grinned, “They’re trying to cover the entire city after Jalousies hit one of their ’Fish, but most of their big guns are still tied up escorting the commander.”

Things could go either way then. But at least events were looking up compared to the series of setbacks in the early afternoon. Perhaps the Emperor hadn’t completely turned his back on their mission after all. The sandy-haired man was normally resolute in his faith, but even he had begun to have doubts about Novick’s words after the two botched operations earlier in the day. Of course he hadn’t revealed those doubts to any but his most trusted confidants, such as Hiero and the two assassins.

“And Jalousies’ cover wasn’t compromised?”

“No sir. Farahani says he was able to get back into the ’Fish before any more blue-skins arrived.”

“Alright corporal.” the man with the sandy hair said, clapping the young woman on the shoulder, “Go get your gear on. We’re moving soon.”

The corporal grinned again. “Yes sir!”

“Dismissed.”

The man waited for her to leave before turning to Hiero who stood at ease behind him. The dark-skinned sergeant was now in his full flak armour. Septima and Decia, as always, stood quietly to one side with their hands folded over their blades.

“What else, sergeant?” the man said after a pause.

“Else, sir?”

“When Farahani and his team got back they seemed subdued. What went wrong?”

Hiero frowned and bit his lip, his usual cheerfully sardonic personality temporarily removed. “There were some… civilian casualties in the explosion, sir.”

The sandy-haired man was silent for a moment.

“Exitus acta probat.” he said solemnly, “The moment we stop to count the cost, Hiero, that is the moment we fail. And the cost is going to get a lot higher before the end of the night, believe me.”

“In that case, sir.” Hiero replied, with a measure of his old fervour, “For what those bastards are about to receive, may the Emperor make them truly thankful.”

CHAPTER 7

Edmund rejoined the group to find them still talking to Mira. As he watched, the young woman took a step back and spread her hands.

“Gideon was shot in the streets today. That’s murder. What are you going to do about it?”

"We will find those who murdered your friend and bring them all to justice. That is what the Greater Good asks." Edmund spun around and looked the woman in the eyes. "And what is it that Joshua's told you about his life prior to meeting you? Any organizations or groups?"

Edmund's voice remained the calm, commanding presence it usually was, but another piece hid underneath it. An added force, a pressure that only an experienced leader could exert. Powerful, like a worm driving into an ear and forcing the body into the correct action.

“Organisations?” Mira repeated, “Not really, not prior to the Pacifica. He was a grade 3 menial at the steelworks, which meant that he was in charge of overseeing one of the work teams when a tech-priest wasn't around. It didn't give him much spare time for joining clubs.”

“It's alright, Mira.” said Faradn as he walked back towards the main group, “You can tell them about my...condition.”

“And what condition would that be?” Lynu'cha asked, fixing Faradn with a neutral stare.

“I am a psyker.” the white-robed man replied.

“Which isn't a crime in the Tau Empire.” Mira added hotly. Faradn hushed her and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he rejoined the group.

"That is true." Edmund said, giving Faradn a look from his spot. He was trying to figure this man out. Something just seemed off to him. He pulled out a Lho stick and began to light it.

"Yet your condition is a dangerous one if left uncontrolled. Unchecked power of that sort can have drastic consequences. So that leads me to wonder..." He placed it in his mouth, looking around at the two members of the chapel. He took a long drag before removing the stick for a moment, looking directly in Faradn's eyes. "How was it the Imperium didn't find you? They tend to be quite "complete" in their searching process."

"You think you need to tell me that, my friend?" the cult leader said grimly, "I know exactly how fine a line I walk. For years I was terrified to even use my abilities, but I taught myself. I found a way. As for evading the witch hunts, it helped that my powers aren't particularly flashy in nature, and that I don't make a habit of using them flippantly. And until the Liberation, Mira was the only person I ever even told about them."

“Oh, I am quite curious how you managed to do so.”

"I would be happy to explain it further to you." Faradn replied courteously, "Perhaps after the sermon this evening? I assume you're staying to provide protection for us?"

"My apologies, citizen." Lynu'cha cut in, "But that may not be possible. There is however another team on the way to ensure your safety, and I can assure you that the Shas'kar'tyr throughout the city will be diligent in maintaining the peace."

A slightly darker look fell over Joshua Faradn's face. "I see." he said after a moment.

"But that matter is unimportant," Edmund went on, "I believe we should instead turn to the issue at hand. What can you tell us about Mr. Gideon Asaph?"

"I know that he was innocent." growled Faradn, "I know that he was a good man, and a true believer in our message of peaceful co-existence with the Tau."

Lynu'cha blinked at the priest. "Is that the purpose of your cult?"

"Yes." Faradn nodded in reply.

******

From his commanding viewpoint, Krii'tik could not fail to notice Alexander disappear into the Devilfish. Jikita'ui Krii'tik eyes narrowed as the new Gue'la headed towards the 'Fish, and quickly made his way inside. What business did he have inside the transport? The rest of the team was securing the building and its immediate perimeter; he had no reason to steal away to their carrier that Krii'tik could think of.

His suspicions raised ever so slightly more than they had already been regarding the man, Krii'tik headed towards the transport silently, stalking with all the stealth he had learned in his many years of hunting various prey, in an attempt to hear whatever conversation, or excuse, the man might give to Anuk'ta.

Inside the transport itself Anuk'ta was busy in the rear compartment, her piloting duties done for the moment and the vehicle's sensors patched into the nearest surveillance cameras to warn her if anyone approached. She had squeezed past the med-table taking up most of the compartment's central isle and was seated near the rear ramp, turning the mysterious comm device that Victor had found in Elisabeth's purse over in her long-fingered hands.

“La'Jalousies?” she acknowledged Alexander as she registered the human's approach.

"Anuk'ta can I have a moment to speak to you. Off the record off course."

Anuk’ta tried not to frown at the overly-personal use of her given name as Alexander looked around the exterior of the Devilfish, assuring himself that the area was clear.

"You don't mind if I close this hatch now do you? I would like this to remain private."
Alexander reached over and placed his hand on the control panel as he took a seat.

"Now to the matter at hand. Let me ask you, these insurrectionists can you blame them?" He pointed over to Elizabeth. "These people lived with the Imperium’s law and religions for their entire lives and dedicated their souls to defend her. What if you were in theirshoes, wouldn't you put up your life to uphold the Greater Good? Doesn't the Greater Good preach of equal justice and free existence? Yet you destroy all this world’s monuments to its former glory."

He shook his head.

"Look at me, just a survivor, my men and I fought and died to hold back you Tau. But now look. Aren't we fighting side by side, hunting down the very people we were sent to protect?" He looked over to Anuk'ta, looking into her sombre eyes. "Surely these people can be bargained with. Let her go and I promise you there will be no fighting tonight."

He stood and leaned against the rear door control. "I know you will of course report this to your CO but just…think about what I said. Please." He hit the door control and took a seat while the rest of the squad continued in their duties, putting on his rebreather and placing both hands over his mask.

Anuk'ta was incredulous, and for a species that was normally so reserved, that was saying something.

"You want to negotiate?" she said, "With the Gue'la who killed your entire team not half an hour ago? In any case the question is irrelevant - the Shas'kar'tyr do not negotiate with people who reject the Greater Good and actively seek to harm those who do. Explain, La'Jalousies."

"Well you see, Imperial Faith dictates the protection of its flock. If we were to act in kindness and present them with their missing flock, we may get some respite. Though these insurrectionists seem determined to bring back the old faiths and systems, which I see as a fool’s game as to do so they will need an astropathic link."

He walked over and placed his hand onto Anuk'ta shoulder. Again, she tried not to let her discomfort with his overly-personal manner show.

"This Elisabeth may be used as a bargaining chip to buy us additional time. We still have no idea how important she is to this movement, and that should be our first priority. If need be I could extrapolate this information by any means necessary."

"We have already shown them nothing but kindness." Anuk'ta said adamantly, "We introduced them to the truth of the Greater Good. We bettered their lives with our knowledge and our technology. We repaired the damage done to their city when the short-sighted among them resisted our gifts. If they are still blind to the truth now, then they will never see. It is regrettable, but they must be swept aside, for the Greater Good of all."

The Air caste pilot's speech was interrupted by a soft whimper from behind them. Both Anuk'ta and Alexander turned, to see Elisabeth stirring. She was still only half awake, trying to move her arms and legs, but the restraining straps on the med-table held her securely in place. Anuk'ta immediately got up.

"Put such thoughts from your mind, 'arbiter'." she said, "And watch her while I inform the others."

She pressed the hatch release and stepped out, shading her eyes against the lowering sun. Lynu'cha and the others were still in the church when she appeared at the arched front door.

"Shas'la," she said, "Our prisoner is awake."

CHAPTER 8

"Prisoner?" Mira said in alarm, but again Faradn hushed her. Lynu'cha turned to Edmund, Kade and Mikhailov.

"Do what you must, Gue'vesa." he said heavily, without a hint of emotion, "I will continue to interview citizen Faradn."

Anuk'ta handed the communicator from Elisabeth's purse to Mikhailov, who happened to be the closest. "Be sure to ask her about this."

Mikhailov walked quite slowly behind the others, gazing at the comms unit; he longed to interrogate the woman, to find out what he could and sate his rising anger at the day's events, but the pictures had unsettled him. He couldn't understand it; mere artwork after all he had seen and been through.

Edmund made his way down to outside the Devilfish, standing just outside the ramp while watching the area. He chose to let the others handle the interrogation - Elisabeth’s belief that he was on her side would probably make things difficult. Still, he stood in sight and earshot of whatever would happen within.

Victor continued to walk around the front side of the chapel, depressed that his uniform was in such a sad disarray. He wasn’t sure if he would even be able to get a replacement uniform once they returned to the barracks, not a good prospect as he hated being short of uniforms.Faradn had obviously sensed the man's discomfort, for he returned from his room with a dark grey leather jacket slung over his arm.

“Soldier!” he called to Victor to get his attention, before throwing it to the ex-Sentinel pilot, “Since I took up my duties with the Pacifica I don't really wear it any more.”

The dark coat was a surprisingly good substitute for Victor's ruined uniform jacket – a little loose in the sleeves for his small frame, but that could be corrected by turning back the cuffs.

“So once the Gue'vesa have interrogated the prisoner,” Anuk'ta said, after pausing for a second in puzzlement at the humans' exchange, “How exactly are we going to proceed?”

“That depends on what she knows.” the fire warrior replied, “But even if we ourselves must leave to pursue our investigation, others should stay to protect this church. They are valuable.”

They were more than just valuable. A burgeoning cult that promoted co-operation and compliance among the natives - and founded of the humans' own accord, no less - would be a fantastic propaganda tool for the Water caste if word of it were to spread. With sponsorship from the Tau themselves it could grow, and play a significant role in the city's pacification. Perhaps, even, the pacification of the entire planet? And he, Shas'la Ke'lshan Lynu'cha, was in a position to be its instigator. If he could ensure its protection from the dissidents who wished it harm, and make his superiors aware of its potential contribution to the Greater Good, it would surely count in his favour at his next Trial By Fire. Lynu'cha had been narrowly denied advancement to Shas'ui rank once before, and he was desperate not to fail a second time. He knew with absolute certainty that the Greater Good had a place for all, and for some that place was to remain among the Shas'la, at the beating heart of their Cadre, but not Lynu'cha. How much more could he do for the Greater Good at the helm of a battlesuit rather than at the head of a team of Gue'vesa, at least one of whom did not even respect his command?

“Shas’la.” said Kade, cutting across Lynu'cha's teeming thoughts. He stopped by his Tau commander, and leaned in to speak to him discreetly. “I trust Brother Faradn.” he confided, “He might also be useful for what we have to do next. I don't think he's complicit, and he has as many reasons to hate the Imperium as I.”

“Agreed.” Lynu'cha nodded, “Citizen Faradn is of great potential to the Greater Good.”

“Well thank you, Shas'la.” Faradn said courteously, before turning serious once more, “Tonight's sermon will go ahead as planned. I will not be cowed by these partisans who are the antitheses of everything we stand for. But I will not accept attacks against any more of my parishioners. I trust I can count on the Shas'kar'tyr for protection, as your Gue'vesa'ui intimated.”

“You can, citizen Faradn,” Lynu'cha said levelly, “As you know, a battlesuit team has been assigned to your protection, and I will ensure that more are made available before your followers arrive for their sermon.”

“For the Greater Good, Shas'la.” said Faradn, without a hint of irony.

******

Alexander moved over to the slowly reawakening Elizabeth. He stood over her and checked for any signs of injury. He placed his hands on both of her shoulders, then looked into her dilated eyes.

"Elisabeth, its me Lieutenant Jalousies. I have come to rescue you."

He walked to the nearby medical locker, grabbing a shot of adrenaline. "This will make you feel better."

He rolled up her shirt sleeve and injected her with the substance.

"Okay, it seems to be working; your eyes seem to be returning to normality. I am going to undo these harnesses, then I will pass you my laspistol. Knock me out, throw me out of the rear of the Devilfish, and either make a run for it or try and pilot this bird. May the Emperor protect."

It was then that Kade made his way up the ramp, finding Alexander with his laspistol, handing it to Elisabeth, and her rising from her restraints.

"Traitor!" he cried, the word sounding strange but right to his ears, considering the context. "I should have known you where a rebel, how else could you have survived that ambush unless you knew about it!"

His lasgun swung up and he aimed it squarely at Alexander’s torso.

"Put the weapon down Jalousies, by the Greater Good I won't ask again!"

Krii'tik, who was closest to the Devilfish, drew his pulse-pistols with lightning quick movements and brought them to life. He rounded on the traitor and squawk-roared. Hearing the cry Victor ran directly to the Devilfish, thinking it was about time there was some action. The scene that waited for him however was not what he had expected. The newest member of the team was helping the prisoner, who had tried to kill them, get free. And there wereKade and Krii’tik, both pointing their own weapons at Alexander’s chest. Without thinking he drew his own laspistol.

"Put down the laspistol now or I swear by the Greater Good I will eat your heart!" Krii’tik said to Alex, training both of his firearms on the man.

“Please do,” Victor chimed in. “The interior of this ‘Fish is a bit drab. Some colour would liven it up a bit.”

"EVERYONE STAND DOWN. NOW!" Edmund barked at the team, giving each member a glare as he stepped in between the two groups. His eyes fell on Elisabeth.

"I'd recommend you stand over here by us, miss." he said to the girl, his eyes directly locked into hers. "Now Arbiter, mind explaining why I shouldn't allow you to be our Kroot's next meal?"

Alexander turned, Elizabeth only two paces behind him with laspistol raised. There wasn't any time to equip his lasrifle. He put one hand into the air and began to reach for his rifle.

"I will come quietly, just don't harm the girl." He motioned to Kade. "Do you really think that lasgun can punch through carapace armour?"

He slowly dropped the lasgun onto the floor of the Fish and began to raise his second hand.

"Do you know why I have re-equipped my rebreather? The lenses are tinted. To withstand bright light."

He pulled the pin and dropped the bright grenade, grabbing for Elizabeth and dashing for the exit. The effects were not going to last long. He grabbed for his weapon and jumped off the Devilfish ramp, pushing and shoving the disorientated troopers out of his and Elisabeth’s way as they ran down a nearby alley and entered a sewer main.

"Come on darling, we have to lose them."

******

Exiting the chapel, Mikhailov could hear shouting from the Devilfish. His colleagues were clustered around the rear entrance hatch with weapons raised. Sliding his own lasgun from his shoulder, Mikhailov began to dash towards the 'Fish when there was a sudden flash of light from within the 'Fish's interior, sending his comrades scattering. Two figures dashed from the vehicle, one with a noticeable limp as though injured.

"The Marrick woman!" Mikhailov roared, changing direction and charging after the two as they dashed down an alleyway. As he ran, he quickly turned on his comms unit.

"Prisoner escaping, men down! Request assistance, La’Lynu'cha! Suspects heading into alleyway to north-west of APC!"

Hurtling into the alleyway, Mikhailov already found it deserted. They couldn't have gotten away so fast! Scanning quickly, he noticed a nearby sewer, but unlike others this one showed signs of recent use.

"Sir, suspects appear to have escaped into the sewer systems! Am proceeding after them!" He cried, and followed them into the sewers, sliding out a small glow-light and holding it against the barrel of his lasgun so as to provide illumination.

"Murdering Imperial scum...you won't escape me!" he promised through gritted teeth.

******

I should have just shot him… Kade cursed as he staggered out of the ’Fish, rubbing his eyes.

"Negative on man down, team is okay. Give pursuit!" he shouted into the vox. He recognised a flash grenade from the Tau’s own variants, the Imperial ones weren't as powerful. Apart from being disorientated, they should be fine. He turned to the others, grimacing. He should have known better, right from the start. They had been tricked. He started after Mikhailov.

"Mikhailov, if the suspect is heading north, I'll cut across the roads and try to get ahead of him. Everyone, switch to squad band three on your vox."

They had previously been using two, and if Alexander was listening in, it would be disastrous. The Tau's compartmentalised squad nets would come into their own, however: Each vox system was tuned to slightly different wavelengths, and so identifying 'band three' would be difficult or impossible for Alexander, even knowing what band two had been.

Lynu'cha and Anuk'ta rushed outside, the former pulling on his backswept helmet and unslinging his pulse carbine.

“Right,” Edmund was shouting as they exited the church, the Gue'vesa'ui deftly taking command of the situation, “Get in pursuit now. Kri'tiik go with Mikhailov, Victor with Kade. I'll stay with the ’Fish. Only follow them, they may lead us to their friends.”

He turned to Anuk'ta.

“Try and get communication out to all Shas'kar'tyr units to watch for them, and put all units on alert. If my assumption is correct, we'll be able to find the rest of the insurgency waiting.”

His mind wandered out for a second as he put pieces together. He stamped out the Lho-Stick under his boot. Lynu'cha nodded, grateful for the efficiency of his second-in-command during his absence.

“Kor'la, take Ui'Cea, La'Kade, La'Sorid and La'Pike – cut that mon'tau traitor off. The rest of you, with me, after La'Mikhailov. La'Blerr,” he turned to the young offworlder with his deadly accurate pulse rifle, “Take rearguard.”

As Anuk'ta scrambled into her cockpit and sent the Devilfish screaming into the air almost before the others were aboard, Lynu'cha turned to Faradn and Mira who had appeared at the church door, looking alarmed.

“What happened?” they were both demanding, shouting over the whine of the squad transport's engines.

“Go back inside, citizens.” Lynu'cha barked, “More Shas'kar'tyr will be with you shortly.”

He turned to his gun drone, which had been hovering unsteadily in the air behind his right shoulder throughout the scene. With the Devilfish radio still out of commission, it was his only link to HQ short of using one of his own men as a courier, and Ke'lshan knew that he could not spare one right now.

“Kor'vesa 2724, new directive: deliver recorded message to HQ. Begin recording. Shas'la Ke'lshan Lynu'cha of Shas'kar'tyr team Aslo 10, requesting increased garrison for Cult Pacifica church on Emperor's Divine, Aotoris. The Pacifica are a potential propaganda asset of high value and are at risk from dissidents. Am proceeding to apprehend Gue'vesa'la Valkora Jalousies, formerly of team Caor 8. La'Jalousies has aided the escape of a Shas'kar'tyr prisoner and is to be considered as acting in opposition to the Greater Good. He is currently in the company of citizen Elisabeth Marrick, a known dissident. Both are to be apprehended on sight. End recording.”

The drone wobbled away on its damaged anti-grav, and Lynu'cha ran to catch up with La'Mikhailov and the others, vaulting down the open manhole into the sewer.

******

“Emperor's sake.” Mira said as she looked at the mess Mikhailov had left in their living room, “You'd think that we were the ones under suspicion.”

Joshua Faradn didn't answer. Instead he picked up the painting that Mikhailov had placed carelessly back on its easel, backwards, and sat down on the bed looking at it morosely. Mira knew that it was his lot to suffer visions of the future, and he painted what he saw. Of late all of his dream-visions had been like the horrific scene he now held in his hands. Even Mira had been shocked by it, but he had continued to paint anyway, saying that it was a constant reminder to carry on his work in an attempt to prevent it.

“Josh?” she asked tentatively when he didn't look up. She sat down next to him and put an arm around him, stroking his hair with her other hand.

“It's going to happen, Mira.” Faradn whispered, his handsome face creased into a frown, “I'm trying my hardest to stop it, and the signs continue regardless.”

“We can't give up.” Mira said.

Faradn put the painting down and kissed her gently. “No.” he said, “We can't.”

******

“The sewer main continues north for half a mile, with two gates along its length.” Anuk'ta told her demi-squad, one eye fixed on the sewer map she had brought up on the screen beside her as she banked hard into a main street. “But after that it divides into three paths. If they make it that far then we risk losing them. I will set you down just before the fork, so that you can enter the main and cut them off.”

As she flew, Anuk'ta couldn't help chiding herself for failing to see the obvious sooner. The sewers ran below the whole of Tasckird, criss-crossing like a web, and at least some of the shafts were big enough for a human to traverse. There had been industrial wastewater drains that led directly to the sewers at the Stratius site, where they had been ambushed. The insurgents must have used the sewers to stay out of sight until they were within the perimeter, where no surveillance cameras remained to trip alarms as soon as they detected weapons.

Victor really didn’t care who was giving orders, his blood was boiling and he felt the need to shot someone. He grunted in anger. He knew he was already looking at being disciplined for his earlier outburst and did not want to give the Tau anymore reason to outright execute him.

“Damn I want my Sentinel back!” he exclaimed as he rolled and bounce off the floor of the Devilfish. While Victor knew keeping the traitor alive would be best for solving the mystery of what was happening here, he really wanted to kill Alexander, and would want to do so even more if his new jacket got ruined as quickly as his last.

Anuk'ta swivelled the transport's turbine engines to 45 degrees forward, braking hard as she set down near a manhole cover at the edge of Vigilus square.

“Go!” she urged Edmund and the others, slamming the palm of her hand down onto the rear ramp release.

Edmund's feet barely made contact with the ground before his stride took over, placing him in a squatting position over the manhole. He grasped the cover and pulled it off, diving down quickly after.

He scanned down the drain weapon raised, waiting for the others to follow.

"Delta Formation. Check your corners and fire only if you have a clear shot. I'll handle the girl; the traitor may die however you wish." He motioned them forward.

Kade dropped from the devilfish, rifle raised. He had doubled back to make sure he was with the rest of the team. He nodded to Edmund as he gave his ordersand splashed into the mire following the Gue’vesa’ui, rifle raised.

"No contact." he breathed as he checked down the tunnels in sequence with a torch on the bayonet lugs of his rifle, "They must be behind us."

******

Alexander and Elisabeth made it to the sewerage gate. Close behind them were the footsteps of the first pursuer, Gue'vesa Mikhailov, who had been uneffected by the blast as he had still been outside the ’Fish at the time.

“Open the gate,” he told Elisabeth, “I will provide covering fire.”

Using the glow stick, Mikhailov had scanned the sewer until he'd noticed a small trail of blood leading away into the darkness. For all he knew it was a rat, or a rat's corpse being dragged away by something altogether more fierce, but it could also have been from the woman and right now he had nothing else to go on. Mikhailov pounded after the blood flow, his whole world a crazy jiggling blur as the glow stick flailed crazily in his headlong rush. Boots splashed into murky water and at several points he thought he'd lost the trail. Through his comm unit he heard one of his comrades organising the team above ground, and asking questions he neither had the mental capacity to register nor the breath to reply to. Finally, after what felt like hours but he was sure was only minutes, an echo reached him, wafting eerily from the darkness before him. The sound was from around the corner. Mikhailov slowed down, stalking forward.

Alexander leveled his lasgun and fired, the energy blast smashed into the corner where they only moments ago just rounded. Alex slowly advanced, taking a well aimed shot with each passing footstep. Mikhailov fell back as the intense blasts of light illuminated the sewer before him, loud cracks betraying the sound of a lasgun discharging. Mikhailov halted and crouched, lasgun gripped tight as he moved to the wall's corner. Ahead of him, over the cracks of weapon discharge and the intense flashes as lasbolts struck stone, he heard Alexander speaking to him.

"How does it feel to betray the Emperor and the Imperium? To turn against his holy light which protects us from those demons of the Immaterium? You can still be forgiven brother - join us and together we can take back this world in His name! We can create a better world, a home of education, industry and wealth. Don't you want to be a part of that?"

Alex took cover on the sewer wall as he affixed his bayonet.

"I don't want to kill you Mikhailov." he said softly, "Please make your decision."

Mikhailov snarled at the words, but nevertheless he stopped for a moment and contemplated. Finally he snatched the comm-bead from his ear; he didn't want his comrades to hear his reply.

"Alex, isn't it? Well, listen up Alex; see if you'd been for a free world, one without the Tau or the damned Corpse God, you may have had an ally. But you want to bring Him back, and his followers, to push us down and drown us under their tyranny! The Corpse God took my father, took my sister, and I'll die before I join you bastards!"

Mikhailov swung his body around the corner, lasgun upright. He pulled the trigger multiple times and fired blind, directing his shots towards the source of the voice. The gloom lit brilliantly as laser bolts danced down the tunnel. Alexander hit the floor, lasrounds flying over the top of his head. He lined up a shot and pulled the trigger only to hear the click of a empty magazine. He gripped his lasgun and made sure his bayonet was in place, but didn’t want to use the blade just yet. Jalousies regained his footing and ran towards Mikhailov, using the weapon as a makeshift club.

"Mikhailov, it wasn’t the Emperor or his beloved Imperium that took your family, it was corrupt preachers and/or governors gone mad with power. I'm sure you are a kind man just born on the wrong world. Just leave us be, comrade, don't make me harm you."

Alexander swung his lasgun, going for non lethal blows. Gripping both hands he grasped the weapon and swung for Mikhailov’s legs, attempting to knock him down.

"Elisabeth I could use some assistance!"

“Get out of the frakking way!” Elisabeth yelled back, trying to line up a kill shot with the laspistol Alexander had given her. The tunnel was narrow, and offered no cover, but it was also dark and unlike her late brother Elisabeth was not a trained soldier. With the two men locked in close combat, she couldn't be sure of hitting Mikhailov without shooting Alexander in the back too. Lynu'cha and the others were catching up fast. Any second now they would come into sight out of the gloom, and the team's Tau leader had the advantage of both image enhancement on his helmet and a photon grenade launcher.

Alexander parried the attack from Mikhailov and stepped back to regain more ground. The shouting of Elizabeth was enough to throw him off his game.

"I am so sorry Mikhailov, but it must be done. Say hello to the Emperor for me."

Alexander brought his bayonet to bear with tears coming down behind his re-breather. He ran towards Mikhailov with all his strength bringing his lasgun and his bayonet down on the loyalist. The thrust penetrated Mikhailov's chest plate and embedded itself in his gullet. Alexander placed his boot over his fellow human and withdrew the weapon from the now-dying man.

"I will give you one more chance at redemption before your passing and you can be reunited with your lost ones in the Emperor’s paradise." He handed Mikhailov a frag grenade and firmly held his hands. "I would stay longer and comfort your passing but your so-called xeno friends are coming. Slow them down or kill them and you will be forgiven."

Alexander stood and ran through the first gate. He closed it and slammed his lasgun down hard on the opening mechanism. "That should slow them down." He looked to Elizabeth and then changed the radio frequency. "This is Lieutenant Alexander Jalousies to any nearby Imperial Loyalists. I am being followed and need assistance. I am currently in the sewer verging off the streets off of the Emperor’s Divine and the Emperor’s Judgement."

He switched his radio off and continued running down the tunnel.

******

It was over so quickly.

Alexander had been closer than Mikhailov had anticipated, so his shots had buried themselves harmlessly in the far wall. The man had come at him, swinging his lasgun like a club towards Mikhailov's legs. There was no way to avoid it, so Mikhailov attempted to move with the strike to soften the blow; still, it hurt like hell, taking his leg out from under him and sending him crashing into the murky water puddled on the sewer floor. His glow light danced away, the stream of light flashing across the walls, and he lost his grip on the handle of his rifle.

Mikhailov snarled in pain, reaching for his knife. He tried to rise, but again Alexander was before him, and through the strobe-like lighting emanating from the spinning glow stick he saw the tint of light dance off the raised blade. Alexander was babbling again, but he didn't hear him; instead he watched the bayonet come down, he couldn't move in time...

Pain exploded in his chest, a sudden invasive feeling causing him to shudder involuntarily as cold metal parted his skin and drove deep. His strength failed him, a dull clatter signifying his knife falling from his open hand. He sank down slowly, sliding backwards and landing on his rear, and he raised his head slowly to look at his assailant. Alexander's voice, though sounding so far away, also sounded choked; Mikhailov stared at the man as he put a primed frag grenade into his hand, along with a wish to protect him, to be forgiven by the Emperor. Then Alexander was gone, leaving him alone.

For several moments he sat in silence, staring at the grenade. A wet feeling had run down his chest, building up on his crotch, but despite the fact that his lifeblood was currently building in his lap, Mikhailov ignored it. Instead, he thought of Alexander's last suggestion. Help him escape, help the Emperor take back this world? No. He couldn’t, and he wouldn't, but right now he was a threat to his comrades and a hindrance to attempts to stop the terrorists. He knew what he had to do.

For the Greater Good... he thought to himself, and a laugh attempted to escape from parched lips at the irony, but instead it merely brought up a lungful of blood which dripped from his chin. Slowly, agonisingly, Mikhaiolv began to move, sliding himself onto his knees and allowing himself to fall forward. As he landed he slipped the grenade under him, and allowed his hand to slide from the detonator pin.

The resulting explosion was deafening, and echoed throughout the sewers.

******

Alexander was thrown to the floor by the force of the explosion. He struck the water and his whole world started to spin. All he was thinking about was if Mikhailov had made the right decision and if Alex himself should have just wounded him and continued through the tunnel’s depths. He placed both hands on the ground and pushed himself upright, noticing a small blood trail leading up to Elizabeth.

"Come here, let me have a look at that."

He motioned towards Elizabeth and opened his backpack withdrawing some bandages and sterilizer.

"Now it may sting a bit but we don't want to risk infection especially in a place like this." Alexander looked around at his surroundings and then looked back to the injured area. "If not for that adrenaline you wouldn't be up an about like this would you?"

He chuckled and slowly wrapped the bandage around her leg.

"That should hold, now lets get moving."

The second gate was steadily coming into view ahead. Alexander looked over the door’s mechanism as he tossed his last bright grenade in his hand.

"Same as before - you open, I will cover. Lets hope the other gate holds them long enough or we will have to see if they fall for the same trick twice."

******

"What in Aun'va's name was that!?" Lynu'cha shouted, pulling up short as the echoes from the blast ricocheted between the narrow walls. A second later and he was running again, faster now, Krii'tik alongside him growl-squawking with fury as he and the others chased after the bastard traitor.

As Lynu’cha rounded the corner before the first gate his helmet's image enhancement picked out the body lying in the narrow pavement beside the brackish water. He warned the others to halt with an upraised fist before advancing on the body with carbine levelled, and turned it onto its back with his hoof.

"La'Mikhailov!"

The man's blood was draining from a stab wound in the hollow of his throat and the front of his armour had been shattered by a close-range explosion. A grenade must have gone off right under him. His flak armour had actually absorbed most of the shrapnel from the detonation, but his internal organs had had no protection from the blast shockwave. The man had been killed twice over, and brutally.

Krii’tik came up behind Lynu’cha, saw Mikhailov's mangled corpse, and his growled out roar was fierce.

"Get that gate open." Lynu'cha ordered the Shaper, his voice tinged with regret as he stooped beside Mikhailov's corpse. The human might not have been suited to a place within the Shas'kar'tyr, but in the end he had still laid down his life for the Greater Good. Lynu'cha reached down with a gauntlet still spattered with the blood of the insurgent he had failed to save and, out of respect to human tradition, performed the Gue'la ritual of closing the dead man's eyes. When he rose a second later, his voice was uncharacteristically harsh.

"Gue'vesa." he said, biting down at the end of each word, "Hunt. That. Bastard. Down."

There was no question of a trial. If word got out to the public that the Gue'vesa entrance checks were insufficient to weed out insurgents and dissidents then the effects on their faith in the Tau would be disastrous. No-one outside the Shas'kar'tyr could be allowed to know. For the Greater Good, Alexander Jalousies had to die.

Jikita'ui Krii'tik began ripping at the gate with all his strength and in moments it was unhinged and they made their way through. The Shaper didn't wait for the order to kill La'Jalousies. He didn't care now, this man was no follower of the Greater Good, and he had killed one of the Shas'kar'tyr and with that, he was marked as prey wholly and completely. His heart would fill Krii'tik's belly.

He tore off at full speed, running as fast as he could possibly move, his long legs taking him after Alexander far faster than a human could run. With a predatory roar he closed on the man.

"Surrender, now La'Jalousies! If you submit now, I promise I won’t eat you slowly..."

******

Alexander was having to drag Elisabeth by the hand as they continued to run - the adrenaline shot he had administered had taken the edge off her pain, but now it was starting to wear off and the young woman was beginning to suffer accordingly. Alexander's small flashlight danced along the sandstone wall in front of them, lighting the way. Suddenly, the pool of light flashed across the dull grey bars of the second gate.

"There." Elisabeth pointed, her green dress streaming out behind her as she stumbled along, "The sewer divides into three after that gate. We'll lose them easily."

But Elisabeth was wrong. She whirled as Krii’tik’s blood-curdling shriek echoed down the corridor, just in time to see the wiry alien come sprinting out of the darkness behind them.

“Look out!” she screamed to Alexander, pulling the trigger of her borrowed laspistol almost before it was raised towards the charging Kroot. She pumped the gun’s trigger with the urgency of sheer panic, lighting up the sewer tunnel with its strobing red beam. The flashes were too brief to see their effects properly, but she fired six shots in the mere second it took the Kroot to cover the twenty metres between them, and to her utter horror the Kroot seemed to just run through every single one.

In truth she had hit Krii’tik, and hit him hard - two of the lasbolts had found their mark, vapourising his scaly skin and ripping fist-sized wounds in his torso. The combination of his Ork-inherited resilience and his sheer rage meant that they simply didn’t stop him.But all Elisabeth knew was that the Kroot seemed to have dodged six lightspeed rounds on an impossibly narrow walkway, and was still coming at them.

“Frakking die!” she shrieked, but it was a product of terror rather than defiance as shaper Krii’tik let out an ululating warcry and barrelled right into them.

Alexander spun about, preferring to be shot to death rather than eaten alive. He dove in front of Elizabeth to safe guard her from the Kroot's blow. The knockdown hurt like hell, but Alexander grasped his rifle and took wild shoots attempting to hit the Kroot as he rose from the floor. He switched the lasgun to fully automatic and held down the trigger, the bright red beams lighting the small corridor. He still had his bayonet, still fresh with Mikhailov's blood.

"Xeno I will take great pleasure in dispatching the likes of you!" He braced himself with lasgun wielded as a makeshift pike as he starred down his next assailant for another brutal melee. "Jump on this you frakker, Emperor give me strength."

******

Edmund could hear the firing.

"Front. Fifteen meters. Weapons fire. Move to engage."

Edmund picked up his pace, weapon raised, and rounded a corner. He could make out the lasrounds and what looked like Kri'tiik fighting.

"Last chance for mercy, Arbiter." he called. Edmund's eyes were fixated on the group, but in reality his mind was elsewhere. It was a gut feeling. Something unpleasant would happen in these sewers.

“Shoot him!” Lynu’cha roared as he and the rest of the team came pounding up the narrow pavement, “Shoot him!”

Alexander heard the threat but that would not stop the rage of the blasted Kroot. All Alexander could do was protect himself and attempt to distract the group.

"You frakking traitors! You betray the Emperor in all his glory! Isn't it ironic that you now fight with the very people that once tried to kill you? It’s not too late to repent, help me with the xeno and join the insurrection!"

Desperate, he looked at Victor Sorid.

"Victor, from observations I can see you were once a pilot and judging by your stride a sentinel pilot I assume. What happened? Did you abandon it, or how did it feel to lose an extension to your very soul? Help me Victor and you can get back your sentinel!"

It was fortunate for Victor that the others could not see the excitement in his eyes as he watched the fight in front of them. But it was not because of Alex’s desperate offer. The lights from the las-bolts flying in every direction provided a strobing effect, giving Krii’tik a menacing, larger than life appearance. Art! The word sounded in Victor’s mind. True art, and live for us to view! he thought to himself. And then Alexander tried to destroy it all.

“Oh no, I fought with every ounce of my soul for the Corpse-God, only to be abandoned on the field of war.” Victor spoke with a voice full of bloodlust. “Join you, no. Should you best our feral friend, I will take great pleasure in sending you to your Corpse-God in failure!”

Krii'tik roared loudly at the pain from the lasbolts that had punched into his flesh. The pain was high, but his enhanced metabolism pumped endorphins through his body, calming the pain and fuelling him with more rage instead.

Despite the battle-frenzy he was allowing to come over him, Krii'tik kept presence of mind to aim only for Elisabeth's legs, knowing that she would be better kept alive. Alexander though, Krii'tik aimed for his torso and head, hoping to disable him as he brought his chainblades roaring to life - swinging in brutal arcs, aiming to dismember the traitor.

Edmund watched as events spiralled out of control. His mind reached out, stretching over to Elisabeth. Without any psychic defences, it was an easy task.

"Elisabeth...Elisabeth ...why do you fight? I'm not going to be able to protect you much longer if you continue to resist. Trust me, I'm trying to be as polite as possible with you. Don't force me to do any more drastic means. You will not enjoy them."

At the same moment, Kade felt a prickle at the back of his mind, sensing the psychic discharge. He couldn’t locate the source, and with the fight still going on there was little time to.

******

Kor’vesa 2724 turned down Krasev Street, and then into Kinesia, swaying in the air as it made constant corrections to its damaged anti-grav unit. It was heading back towards Shas’kar’tyr HQ - the old government building that had once served as Imperial command for the region - carrying Lynu’cha’s warning and his request for reinforcements. Despite the battering it had sustained during the fight at the abandoned factory, the gun drone still fulfilled its orders with single-minded diligence.

At least, until an invisible bolt whickered out of nowhere and blew it apart in a shower of metal confetti.

As the pieces of metal clattered to the ground, bleeding sparks and coolant fluid, a shadowed figure on the roof of a building three streets away took his eye from the fluted scope of his rifle and turned away. His dark cloak swirled around him as he moved, dismantling his weapon with dextrous fingers before vaulting down into the alley below. Threading through the blind spots of the Tau’s precious surveillance cameras, the sniper considered his position. It was a dangerous game his superiors were playing, attempting to kill two birds with one stone. It relied too much on instruments that had already proven to be erratic. At first, the sniper had been able to simply watch his masters’ plan unfold. He had been there, at the very beginning, the cloaked man feigning tiredness as the two assassins strode into the pub and set the wheels in motion. But over the last few hours more and more variables had introduced themselves into the mix, putting the delicate plan at risk. The sniper had had to take action twice now, intervening to bring events back onto the proper path. He had had to shoot out the wheel of Elisabeth Marrick’s car, and now he had been forced to destroy Lynu’cha’s drone before it could deliver its message and potentially ruin everything. Every time the sniper intervened directly, he risked discovery. But his masters had invested too much effort in this to see it fail now. He cursed the people his plan relied on for not being able to stick to the roles intended for them.

But the plan could still be salvaged. Everything should, now, be set back upon its proper path. For the time being, the sniper could only continue to watch and see how events played out.

******

Kor’la Anuk’ta was still in the Devilfish, listening in carefully to the team’s comm chatter to try and work out what was going on down there. She felt slightly helpless stuck above ground where the power of the gunship at her fingertips meant nothing.

What’s more, the rapid disembarkation of her team and the lingering presence of her grey-and-yellow Devilfish was drawing unwanted attention. Curious eyes had appeared at windows, and a man in a dark blue headscarf had stepped into the street to see what was going on. Anuk’ta tapped her dashboard to route her microphone through to the transport’s external speakers, and addressed the man.

“Return to your home, citizen.” she said levelly, “This is a Shas’kar’tyr investigation, you have nothing to fear. Return to your home.”

The man did not. Anuk’ta watched him from her vehicle’s hull camera as he walked up to the Devilfish and began banging on the hull.

“I repeat,” Anuk’ta said, a little more firmly, “Return to your home, citizen.”

The man continued to hammer on the hull, which carried through to the cockpit as a series of dull thuds. On her video screen Anuk’ta could see the man gesticulating, his mouth moving as he shouted out something she couldn’t hear. Frowning in irritation, she pulled off the open helmet that linked her to the Devilfish’s speakers as well as its weapon systems, and reached up with a slender arm to unlock the round cockpit hatch above her head. Putting both hands on the rim of the hatch as it swung back, she pulled herself up out of the pilot’s seat and out onto the hull to confront the stubborn civilian.

No sooner had she done so, then a second human grabbed her from behind, wrapping wiry arms around her head and neck. The normally stoic Air caste yelped as she was hauled up out of the cockpit, realising too late that her assailant must have climbed onto the hull from the back while the other man distracted her. She thrashed wildly against the attacker’s grip, but her spindly void-evolved frame was nowhere near strong enough to break the human’s choke hold, and her unseen antagonist easily wrapped their hand around her face to drag her chin up and back.

The next thing she felt was something hard and cold pressed against the soft, warm flesh of her throat - followed by a pain that shook through her nerves like raw voltage as the knife ripped her open from ear to ear.

******

"Die pathetic manling!" Krii'tik roared, biting at Alexander's throat viciously while pumping shot after shot at both him and Elisabeth. Alexander rolled, ducked and weaved his way past the Kroot's furious blows, moving with the skill of a life’s worth of training, but Elisabeth seemed to have frozen. She was looking up the tunnel towards Edmund’s group, her pistol wavering in her hands. As a result she was a sitting duck for Krii’tik’s wild fire, which took her already-injured leg out from under her and pitched her onto the hard sandstone. She let out a piercing scream, the green material of her dress turning red.

"Your Corpse-God is no longer with you, you fool!" Krii’tik roared, aiming twin chainblades at Alexander's wrists. The traitor dodged. The xeno's rage was slowing him down and making him arrogant. Its shots ran wild or were embedding themselves in Alex's carapace armour. Alexander swung his rifle to get the shaper’s head away from his neck and to give himself breathing space. He tossed his lasgun into the water below and withdrew his power maul. Crackling energies dancing around the blunt instrument as he thumbed the activation stud.

"Oh, I do believe the Emperors light shines upon me today."

The traitor’s words were prophetic. No sooner had he spoken then the tunnel was alive with blinding flashes of las, a deadly lightshow of red and green that sent chunks of stone blizzarding off the walls all around the team. Pike was hit and fell sideways into the grimy water with a cry, while Blerr was hit in the back - the bolt vapourising the outer layer of his armour with an explosion that pitched him forward onto the walkway. Lynu’cha whirled, his finger tensing on the trigger of his carbine, but the plasma-wreathed bolts merely raked a line of bullet holes in the curved roof as two lasbolts converged on him and knocked him onto his back.

The tunnel was suddenly full of armed men and women, coming from both ends of the tunnel, and flooding the walkways on both sides of the sewer flow. Most held lasguns, but several more had fully-automatic shotguns braced against their shoulders, ready to sweep the Gue’vesa team off the narrow walkway in an eyeblink.

“Drop your weapons you fish-frakking traitors!” shouted a voice from somewhere in the crowd, “Drop them! Now!”

CHAPTER 9

It took Victor several tense moments before he even realized that they had been surrounded. He wondered what had gone wrong, as it was his impression that the Devilfish's sensors should have picked up on the increased number of bodies in the sewer before they got the drop on. Of course, he thought - as with any vehicle if it sustained enough damage it can quickly become a useless piece of junk. So much for the technological advantage the Tau like to lord over us, he thought.

Without taking his eyes off of Alexander, Victor tossed his las-pistol at his feet, once again feeling betrayed by those he served; even though his service was now out of self preservation and not any real loyalty.

"You might want to keep that," Victor growled. "You can hold on to it to remind you just how close you came to dying this day."

Looking around him for the first time since the duel between Alexander and Krii'tik stopped, Victor wondered why they had not yet been killed. These insurgents believed the Gue’vesa to be traitors, and he knew that under Imperial law they should already be dead. This made him wonder at what was really going on. Perhaps they just wanted to kill them in a more public setting as an example of how traitors to the Corpse-God were received. While this fuelled the fires of hate within him, it was nothing compared to how he felt about Lynu'cha. He was supposed to be enlightened in the Greater Good, yet he failed to listen to those that served it. Had he insisted on more reinforcement, or allowing them to be issued gear better suited to threat they were facing, the roles of those gathered here now would be reversed. It was quickly becoming clear to Victor why Lynu'cha was regulated to such a demeaning role, working with humans instead of being on the front lines with his comrades. As much as he wanted to kill Alexander, he knew that Lynu'cha would also need to die in order for the Greater Good to truly be served.

******

"Team, stand down. There's no point in giving them this." Edmund said calmly, checking Elisabeth's wound.

Elisabeth looked up at him, blood oozing through her fingers as she clamped them to her leg in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Her eyes were glazed with pain.

“You...you said...” she stammered.

"Traitorous filth, get away from her." Alexander snarled as he kicked the Gue'vesa'ui out of the way. "I need a Medic!"

A young man with a narthecium pack came running forward, stooping next to Alexander. “You frakking bastards...” he hissed through his teeth as he saw the state that Elisabeth was in.

Pike broke the surface of the sewer canal, coughing on the brackish water. He was immediately hauled out by two men in flak vests who confiscated the pistol at his waist and began patting him down for any other concealed weapons. Blerr was next, his pulse rifle kicked away for another insurgent to pick up as he was pulled roughly to his feet. A broad-shouldered man with a heavily lined face approached Victor, towering over him as he spied and removed the knife in the Sentinel pilot's boot. He followed this up by slamming the butt of his lasgun into Victor's face, knocking him over backwards with a mouthful of blood.

“That's for Soren and his team, you miserable frak.” he spat. He was referring to the squad of insurgents that Lynu'cha and the others had fought at the factory in Stratius, including the two who had barely been out of their teens.

Victor took the blow to the face from the brute and relished the taste it left in his mouth. Never before had he realized how good his blood could possibly be. He smiled back at the rebel, envisioning how brilliant his face would look once his own blood was flowing down across his eyes and into his mouth, never to be tasted before meeting his Corpse-God. So focused on the man was Victor that he did not even notice the woman behind with her las-rifle trained on him. Feeling around under the water beside him Victor managed to find a jagged piece of what felt like corroded metal.

This will be my brush he thought as he looked at the insurgent, who was about to hit him again.

“Stand down, private Lewis.” warned a voice, the same voice that had called for the team's surrender. A coffee-skinned native Tasckirdian shouldered his way to the front, moving easily in his layered flak armour and cradling a Valkora-pattern lasgun in his hands. He had the serious face of a man who had seen dozens of battles, but a glint in his eye that suggested he was ready for dozens more.“The colonel will want to have a chat with these guys, and he can't do that if you break their jaws.”

“Yes sergeant.” the other man growled, glaring at Victor one last time as he backed off. The young woman behind him kept her lasgun trained steadily on Victor, her face impassive.

“Bloody hell, sarge.” said a tall woman with worker's overalls under her weathered flak as she went to relieve Cenk of his weapons, “Look who it is!”

The dark-skinned sergeant stepped forward to get a better look at Vyktor Cenk, who stood defiant in his polished carapace breastplate. His face was instantly recognisable from the propaganda posters that the Tau had circulated during the war – the enlightened hero who had seen the light of the Greater Good and urged his men to do the same. He had shortened the “Liberation” considerably with the information he had provided to the Tau.

“Bloody hell indeed.” agreed the sergeant, and without any ceremony whatsoever, shot Cenk through the head. The overpressure of vapourising brain matter sent pieces of his skull bouncing off the low roof as the headless body sagged backwards and fell with a splash into the sewer canal.

“Sic semper traditor.” the team heard one of the insurgents mutter approvingly.

“Like I said,” the sergeant said conversationally, “The colonel will want to talk to you guys. But technically we only need one of you, so try to behave.”

Edmund let out another sigh, more frustrated than the last.

"Lynu'cha, do you trust me?" he said. Edmund began to pull his locket from underneath his armor, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. The opportunity was now, the pieces were in place. He had to, even if all his soul and mind said not to.

"Do you trust me?" he repeated.

Lynu'cha, still on the floor after the twin lasgun blasts, turned awkwardly towards his second in command. He was surprised by the question, and more so by the use of his given name – something that most fire warriors would find a little too personal. But the fact remained: throughout his service, Ui'Cea had demonstrated unflinching loyalty to the Greater Good. He was one of very few humans to have the honour of the Ta'lissera to his name.

“I trust you, Gue'vesa'ui Bentu'Cea.” he replied, his voice a hoarse croak.

Alex looked over Elisabeth, her green dress beginning to change to a shade of red. He knelt down next to the medic, reached into his back pack and placed a bandage over the wound, placing both hands over it to slow the bleeding.

"You will be fine, I got you." he whispered as tears began to drip from under his rebreather. He lifted off his helmet and tossed it aside, revealing his young complexion and scruffy black hair.

Krii'tik stood passive, watching the movements of those present. The way the woman covering Victor kept her eyes locked on her target, the man who appeared to be in command of this whole endeavour, the various weapons being removed from his companions, the...ignorance of their faith in something so unholy and foul as the Imperial codes and beliefs. Disgust turned Jikita'ui Krii'tik's face into a snarl.

He continued his look of tactical precision, taking in his targets, realizing there was no way he could kill all of them before being taken down. He looked at all of the humans in turn, and knew that Krii'tik, Shaper, Jikita'ui of his brood, protector and servant of the Greater Good, defender and hunter, Krii'tik...would die. But he would die serving the Greater Good and killing the enemies that tried to bring it down.

His decision already made, Krii'tik roared as he charged forward. "May the Greater Good forever stand strong!"

“Jikata'ui, no!” Lynu'cha rasped, but his voice was lost among the sudden screams. A powerful lunge brought Krii'tik within biting distance of the man in front of him and with neither passion nor emotion, he bit down and tore the man's throat out in a gout of bloodshed. The man fell back, choking and dying, and those behind instinctively recoiled, trying to claw their way backwards along the narrow walkway. This only gave the Kroot room to use his claws, and even without weapons he was deadly.

Victor wished he could see the visceral art that Krii'tik was creating. Of everyone on the team he believed that the Kroot understood him the best, even if he didn't know it. With a speed he kept in reserve for dire times, Victor leapt up from the water, got a running start and jumped on the back of Private Lewis, who had spun away from him towards the Kroot. He brought the jagged piece of metal around to Lewis' throat.

"Now you can join Soren." he whispered in the private's ear before slitting his throat and falling back into the water, admiring his best work of art.

Victor had a glorious half second to enjoy his victory before the insurgent behind him let out a wordless cry and riddled him with a burst of fire from her lasgun. The water around Victor boiled and hissed as the threads of light struck first it, then him. The small man jerked and twisted like a marionette as four bolts punched into him in rapid succession, knocking him back down as he tried to rise. He remained half upright for a second, wavered, and then curved over backwards in a graceful arc, falling back into the foetid water and bobbing there like a grotesque cork with his eyes closed and the ghost of a smile still frozen on his face. The insurgent immediately fell to her knees, her weapon clattering to the floor as she tried to help her fallen comrade. Both of them had their hands to his throat in a futile attempt to stop him choking on his own blood.

Krii'tik continued his deadly rampage. A kick like a pneumatic hammer cracked the ablative chest plate of an insurgent and pitched him into the water, and a woman fumbling with her bayonet screamed as his clawed hand raked down her arm, shredding her sleeve and the flesh beneath. Jikita'ui Krii'tik became a creature possessed with a near holy fury, lashing out viciously at his enemies, kicking out with powerful legs to rip them open with foot-talons, and clawing with equal vigour from his hands to rend flesh.

For the Greater Good…


“Kill it!” roared the rebel sergeant, and at the same time a dozen lasguns came up to cover the rest of the team. A partisan lunging with a bayonet had his neck broken by one swipe of Krii'tik's clawed hand, and the Shaper screeched defiance even as he bled out from the two lasgun wounds Elisabeth had inflicted on him.

A knife pinwheeled out of the darkness. Its artificially dulled blade gave no glint, and to everyone else the rampaging Kroot simply seemed to stop without reason, letting out a clicking squawk that sounded more like surprise than anything. Then he stumbled back against the wall, and as he turned he revealed the knife that had buried itself up to the hilt in his right eye. It was a perforated hilt, like the knife that had resided in the Devilfish evidence locker since the first shootout at the pub. Exactly like it, in fact.

A trio of insurgents closed in on the Kroot as he slowly slid down the wall, hammering with rifle butts, driving down with combat knives. As Shaper Krii'tik died, two figures glided forward through the press of insurgents, standing out starkly against the mismatched rebel soldiers. They were tall, wiry women dressed in identical black jumpsuits, the loose sleeves secured by tightly-wound strips of dark leather covered in runic marks. The bindings on one woman's arm were discoloured with a splash of dark blue that also appeared to have stained her hand, but otherwise they were completely identical. Even their features were difficult to tell apart, for they both had black-dyed hair tied up in single plaits and uncomfortably blank faces. One of the two walked calmly over to Krii'tik's body and retrieved her throwing knife, but neither spoke, and if the team had noticed them at all their attention was quickly arrested by Alex as he looked on in disbelief. The arbiter’s blood boiled, and he raised his foot and slammed it down upon the closest target, which was Edmund.

"I gave you a chance, all of you a chance!" he ranted.

Edmund fell back to the ground on his back as Alexander’s foot made contact, blood dripping from his forehead. He cursed. Now was the time; he had no other choice. It was either this or watch his entire team die. Edmund shot a glance at Alex, wiping the blood from his mouth. The emotions inside him were twisting, a part of his mind urging him to steer away from his next move.

"And I gave you one… INSOLENT FOOL!"

The voice shot through the crowd like a gunshot, forcing some of the rebels to cover their ears. Alexander was tossed backwards from Elisabeth by an unseen force, thrown into the crowd of insurgents. Lightning crackled in the tunnel as Edmund lifted himself from the ground. He used no limbs for the action, and briefly floated before placing himself on the ground.

Alexander yelped as he landed in the middle of the reinforcing group. He placed both hands onto the wall for support as he stood back up, then grabbed for a nearby Imperial’s sidearm and retrained it on Edmund.

"Under Corilithian Doctrine, 5896/8 I decree the ultimate sanction, it's for your own good! For Emperor and Im-"

He stopped in mid sentence, because Edmund’s locket had completely changed from the usual silver chest. It now was a piece of onyx adorned with a crimson letter I, the words Esse Quam Videri scrolled below it. Edmund’s eyes now scanned every person in the tunnel, backlit by a sinister glow. Warp energy still briefly flickered. No power lay with it, more of a parlour trick to make the insurgents back down.

“My name is Inquisitor Edmund Rourke, Ordo Xenos, authority given by the Grace of the Immortal Emperor and granted by the High Lords of Terra. Lower your weapons. Now.”

The weight of his voice hit like a hammer, raw authority mixed with psychic ability. He hated having to use his powers like this, but in this case it was necessary.

******

Kade had been resigned to his fate. After being ambushed like that, there had seemed little chance for survival at all. He had calmly lowered his lasgun to the sewer floor and sunk to his knees. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him afraid. Even when they shot Vyktor Cenk down in cold blood, he just flinched away and didn't say a word. And then Nylor Kade had seen something that made him truly afraid. The psychic wash hit him in the back of his head like a hammer, making him moan in pain and double over.

An Inquisitor, Warp take me, an honest to Throne Inquisitor…I'm dead.

While his lasrifle and sword had been removed, Edmund’s transformation had stopped the young woman who had been searching Kade from taking his pulse pistol. For a second, he considered using it. But he couldn't bring himself to shoot Edmund, nor did he think he could kill enough loyalists to make good an escape. But he could shoot himself, and put himself beyond the Imperiums reach forever. No, he couldn't. His faith faltered, and a small voice told him that he couldn't die a traitor. So he stayed on his knees frozen in fear, and waited for the end.

How quickly valour and faith fails.

******

Some of the insurgents froze, mouths falling open in shock. Others made the sign of the Aquila, either out of awe or to ward off the evil of the witchcraft they had just witnessed. None however were more appalled than Shas'la Lynu'cha. The fire warrior's expression was hidden behind his helmet, but his silence indicated that he was lost for words.

The only one who didn't seem particularly affected by the display was the rebel sergeant.

“Easy, boys and girls.” he soothed his rattled troops, dropping his hands from his slung lasgun to hold out his arms to either side. He looked at the newly-revealed inquisitor for a second, then deliberately shouted past Edmund, though without taking his eyes off him.

“Who's hurt?”

It took a second for someone to pluck up the courage to respond. “Jaz and Ferrick, sir. Kapor's dead.”

“Lewis too.” said the woman who had shot Victor, rising numbly from the still body of his last victim.

“Rig up some stretchers. They're coming back with us.” With that, the sergeant turned back to address Edmund, “If you don't mind me saying, inquisitor, you left it a little late.”

“Sarge...” whispered a young woman on the rebel leader's left, “What do we do?”

“What you're going to do, corporal.” the sergeant replied, “Is help me escort the prisoners and inquisitor Rourke back to Vanifax. Medicus?”

“Sergeant?” answered the young man with the narthecium who was still at Elisabeth's side.

“Bring Elisabeth. Everyone else return to station and be ready to move at H hour.”

“Plan is still go, sarge?” asked one of the rebels.

“Of course the plan's still bloody well go.”

“Whatever you are planning, Gue'la.” gasped Lynu'cha as two insurgents hauled him onto his feet, finding his voice again at last, “It will fail.”

The sergeant brushed off the comment. “Ah, well you see, you arrogant fish bastard, like the good inquisitor you have no frakking clue what's going on here. The difference is you're not as likely as him to live to find out.”

“Your day will come, dissident.” Lynu'cha whispered.

“Aye,” the sergeant agreed threateningly, “And yours will end.”

As the majority of the insurgents began to melt back into the tunnels, the sergeant and a single squad escorted the survivors of team Aslo 10 north into the forking passageways. Still without a word, the two women in black glided forward and fell into step behind them, their feet completely silent against the stone.

As Edmund’s blank eyes reverted to normal, he looked first to his teammates. He knew the issues would be hard to alleviate.

“I would recommend for you not to ask any questions at this moment. I apologize for this, and I will explain everything when I have the opportunity later. For now you are to be considered under my protection. They will not harm you.”

His eyes then fell back on to the superior officer of the Insurgents.

“You will take us to your superiors at this moment. I wish to speak with them in full.”

Alexander walked behind Edmund, his weapon lowered, his head still spinning. Did I just threaten summary execution to a Ordo Xeno Inquisitor?

He shook his head as the squads sergeant began asking for tactical updates and Alex began walking back over to the medic to assist with Elizabeth.

"I am sorry Inquisitor I had no idea." In truth in the middle of the fray he had forgotten the very thing that Elisabeth had told him about Edmund, but now it was steadily coming back. He bowed down to show his respect. "But I must tend to the girl."

Edmund dusted himself off. At least his actions had calmed the area and Lynu'cha was alive. He began to fall in with the group, paying little attention to his former team leader as he wondered how the Tau would react. He would need to speak with him in private later. The Arbite spoke, trying to cover for his actions, but Edmund didn't even look to Alexander when he responded.

"You were doing your job Arbiter. But never point a weapon at me again."

There was one other thing he needed to quickly address, making his way to Kade.

"You need not fear me as you would one of my colleagues, Kade. Rise up and join the group. We may discuss your position later; I can be of great assistance to you."

******

With no points of reference to the surface, the team were quickly disorientated in the twisting sewer tunnels. The partisans however seemed to know exactly where they were going. They moved quickly, but their progress was slowed by the stretcher party following behind them, carrying Elisabeth, their two wounded, and the two dead. Shaper Krii'tik's body had been rolled unceremoniously into the sewer canal.

The walk gave the team a chance to look at the rebels properly. A few were relatively clean and well-presented – probably sympathisers like Elisabeth and her late brother who had been hiding in plain sight all along, and were only now taking up arms for whatever it was the insurgents were planning. Most however were more scruffy, with worn clothes and weather-beaten faces that suggested they had been living rough for some time. These were the purist militants, the ones who the Fire caste had been trying to eradicate from the region since the occupation. But how had they got from their mountain strongholds south of Tasckird into the city itself without being seen? The sergeant had provided the answer – Vanifax. Vanifax water treatment plant lay on the very outskirts of Tasckird, near the river estuary. The native tech-priests had been left in charge of the facility after the occupation, for its continued operation was vital and the Earth caste had not seen anything worth studying in one of the city's most basic utilities. If the tech-priests had been convinced to turn a blind eye, then any number of insurgents moving stealthily down from the mountains could have direct access to the sewer network, and through that, the whole of Tasckird.

There was something else notable about the partisans too. They were dirty, dishevelled, and mismatched in the various clothes they wore underneath their flak armour, but that flak armour was perfectly maintained. Occasionally, slightly different colouring showed where an ablative plate or shoulder-guard had cracked and been replaced, but every flak vest was secure and fully functional. Similarly, every lasgun was carefully cleaned and serviced. These soldiers might be isolated remnants from a war long lost, but their priorities showed that none of them had given up just yet.

“Delta command.” the rebel sergeant said as he walked, talking into a blocky hand-held vox that had been hanging from his belt webbing, “Sergeant Rana.”

A moment's pause, and then a strong male voice crackled back over the vox-unit. “This is Delta Actual, go ahead Hiero.”

“Sir, we're returning to Victor with some Tau auxiliaries who were chasing Elisabeth and Jalousies. Killed three of them, captured five. Two of ours dead plus two wounded. Other teams are still in place.”

“Are we compromised?” asked the voice that had identified itself as Delta Actual.

“You are being tracked as we speak.” Lynu'cha interjected calmly. “Your best course of action would be to release us and surrender now.”

“That's a lie.” spoke up one of the assassins, the one with what the team were now sure was Tau blood staining her hand and arm. Her voice held a trace of amusement, though it didn't show on her face.

“Tracking units are installed on Tau vehicles.” added the other, “Not on the armour of individual soldiers. Similarly, personal vox systems are short range, primarily for inter-squad use. More powerful voxes are installed in their transport, but Septima already took care of that.”

Now that the team could get a closer look at them, there were slight differences between the two women, despite the initial impression they had given of being black-clad doppelgangers. The first, Septima, had a round face with wide-set eyes in a striking shade of blue, while the second had a thinner face given a chiselled, haughty cast by her high cheekbones.

Sergeant Hiero Rana nodded to the two women, and merely smirked at Lynu'cha. “No sir.” he said into the hand-vox, “I don't think so. But there is something else – one of the auxiliaries is a psyker claiming to be one inquisitor Edmund Rourke.”

“An inquisitor?” There was a long pause. “Alright Hiero, bring him up here ASAP.”

“Wilco, sir. Rana out.” Hiero said, and returned the vox to his belt.

"I would hope your superiors may brief me when we arrive?" said Edmund, lengthening his stride to draw level with the sergeant.

Hiero nodded. “Colonel Drake's going to be surprised to see you. Not as surprised as Novick though, I think. He didn't say anything about seeing an inquisitor in those witchy readings of his.”

None of this was news to Elisabeth, who remained silent as she was carried along between the squad medicus and Alexander. The medic had given her as much morphia as he dared to make her comfortable enough to travel, and it was enough to make her head slightly foggy. She didn't want to be on a stretcher on her way back to the rebels' temporary HQ. She wanted to be out there playing her part, as her brother would have wanted, warning her fellow Resistance members of Tau movements during the operation. But thanks to the bastard Kroot she might not even walk again, and certainly not tonight. Her frustration was dulled by the anaesthetic haze as she looked at inquisitor Edmund Rourke, recalling his repeated promises to protect her, and wishing he had acted upon them sooner.

She had told no-one but Alexander about Edmund, and that had been as they were running through the sewers. Strapped to a med-table in the Tau Devilfish, she hadn't had any other opportunity. She could only wonder how events might have played out if she had got word to Hiero in time. Then again, it could have been worse – what would have happened if Alexander hadn't freed her before the Tau and his treacherous acolytes could drag the information out of her?

“The Emperor protects.” Elisabeth whispered, without realising that she was speaking aloud, “The Emperor protects...”

Alexander was walking among the group, both hands on Elisabeth’s stretcher. He was no doctor but would do all he could to help her. He had said he had come to rescue her but under his watch she had been gravely wounded. That had put him on edge, and he felt a combination of sadness and desire for revenge. The Tau would pay for what they have done.

He looked down to her, at her injured leg, wrapped and sterilized, herself drugged just enough to dull the pain. Alexander couldn't comfort her as he needed to carry the stretcher. But he did the best thing he could think of, hoping someone else would join in.

"The Emperor is our guiding light. A beacon of hope for humanity in a galaxy of darkness. As we serve Him, He is our greatest servant. As we pray to Him, His thoughts are only for us. And in the dark when the shadows threaten, The Emperor is with us; In spirit and in fact. The Emperor Protects."

He sighed and leaned closer to Elisabeth.

"You will be okay, I promise you that."

******

Victor felt four punches to his back as he fell into the water. He let the water caress him as anarchy continued around him. As darkness took him he felt as though he was floating away, and in the back of his mind he heard laughter. As the darkness continued to envelop him he could have sworn that the laughter grew louder. This made no sense to him, and so he simply let the darkness have him.

“Yes, that’s good. Rest. Your strength will return.”


Victor’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the sultry voice. A smile escaped his lips as he saw the vision of beauty standing above him. The large almond-shaped eyes looking directly into his. A mischievous grin inviting him to pleasures yet unknown. Then she ran her hand down his chin and cooed.

“Time to wake up.”

With a grasp of breath Victor came to and found that he was still in the sewers. I clearly hit my head he thought as he reached out with his arms to steady himself, only to find a rung to a ladder leading back to the surface. Not taking any chances Victor attempted to stay still long enough to determine if anyone else was close enough to hear him. After what he believed to be a few minutes he finally pulled himself up by the ladder rungs. Instantly his body felt like it was on fire. He knew he had been shot - right after slicing the throat of the fool that even now must be meeting his Corpse-God in failure - he just hadn’t thought he would be waking up after such a torrent of hits.

After what felt like an eternity Victor finally pulled himself out of the sewer. It was then that he noticed how pungent he smelled. He still had open wounds, and it suddenly occurred to him that he just climbed out of the sewer. With a scowl on his face he now wondered if he any of his wounds would become infected and finish the job the insurgents had failed to complete. Shaking his head, which caused more pain to shoot through his body, he banished the thought from his mind and started to make his way out of the alley. Though his vision was beginning to blur he let out a sigh in surprise as he made out the chapel in the near distance. Knowing that reinforcements were due to arrive, he willed himself onwards and in hope of finding aid.

As he made his way to the chapel entrance something struck him as odd. The sun had clearly moved in the sky and indicated that sunset was not far off. So where was the battlesuit team that was suppose to be here? Maybe he had been unconscious longer than he thought. Perhaps it was already the next day giving way to evening. With his wounds he would not be surprised. Then again, it was also possible that the chapel wasn’t really in danger and the team had been called elsewhere. Either way he didn’t care, he needed rest and the chapel was the best place.

With what little strength he had left Victor stumbled up to the chapel. Unable to stand any longer he fell to his knees and cried out as his body hit the pavement. Once again darkness rushed upon him to claim its prize. But before everything faded completely to black, he heard the soft thumping of metal on the concrete of the street. He heard the sound of a voice, transferred from a Tau throat within a heavy battlesuit to the vox-system of the suit proper. The sound of a fusion blaster and flamethrower being armed were just loud enough for Victor to hear through his exhaustion.

"Gue'la, tell me what has happened." Shas'Vre Mal'Caor'Shas said, resplendent in his modified stealth-suit, his weapons primed and ready for any confrontation. Standing beside him were his two other teammates, also armed and ready.

The voice galvanised Victor, pushing back the impending unconsciousness. He opened his eyes, not sure where the voice had come from. Ghost he thought to himself. And why not? He was after all on the doorstep of a chapel. Though seeing the Tau materialize in front of him made him catch his breath. Then exhaustion began to fight back.

“Betrayed.” he managed to whisper. “By the pet who is the master. Shas’la. More like fool. He deserves his fate; there is no Greater Good in him.”

That was all Victor was able to say before his body gave out and darkness once again claimed him.

******

“And this is us.” said Rana as they approached a seemingly random ladder. The manhole above was uncovered, and artificial light streamed down into the tunnel. The sound of some sort of heavy-duty water pump could be heard coming from above.

“Absolutio.” called someone as Hiero slung his lasgun and put one foot on the ladder.

“Damnatus.” he answered the challenge, and climbed up to be met by two armed men who were guarding the manhole. One by one the team were ushered up after him, into a courtyard that was evidently inside the outer walls of the Vanifax treatment plant. Hiero led them through a row of huge circular settling tanks towards a square white building with the skull and cog of the Mechanicus emblazoned above the main doors.

Alexander placed his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. As he helped hoist up the stretchers then he tightened the straps of Elizabeth's and began lifting it towards the surface. He let go and mounted the ladder when the guards above took a hold and began moving towards the temporary medical facility. Alexander climbed the ladder and walked back up to Elizabeth, he undid his dog tags and placed them in Elizabeth's hand.

"I will be right back but I have to find Colonel Drake."

Jalousies followed the inquisitor and the troop towards Drake's position. He grabbed his personal recorder which over the past few weeks he had been recording personal logs and "acquiring" sensitive Tau information. He filed in next to the Inquisitor and struck up a conversation, trying to find a way to put his sentence..

"Um, I have a few questions, do I call you Inquisitor or Edmund or both? And would you have allowed us to die down there, if not for the timely arrival by my compatriots here?"

"You may call me Inqusitor Rourke, Arbiter." Edmund said, not bothering to look at the man who was questioning him. "As for what was occurring in the sewers it is not your place to ask such questions. An opportunity presented itself and I took advantage of it."

He left out the fact the only reason he revealed himself at that moment was to save his comrades from the Tau. A pity two of them went and got themselves killed anyway.

“Go on ahead.” said the female corporal as the casualties were hoisted up last – the bearers carefully securing them to their stretchers before turning them vertical and manoeuvring them up the ladder with the help of the corporal herself and the two guards.

“Don't worry.” said Hiero, “I'm planning on being back in time for the kickoff. Status report!” he shouted as he passed through the doors into the foyer of the sewage plant. It was warm and slightly humid. Eye-scanners and servitors flanked the corridor along with copper pipes and strange bits of Ad Mech equipment, but the scribe servitor at the prayer-scroll-covered reception station had been replaced by a dark-haired insurgent.

“I hate this frakking heat, sergeant Rana sir.” he replied to Hiero's order.

“Can I have a positive status report?” Hiero shot back.

“I positively hate this frakking heat, sergeant Rana sir.” the man answered, in what was obviously a well-rehearsed routine.

Hiero smiled crookedly. “You never cease to amuse me, private.”

“That's because you have extremely low standards, sir.” the man replied cheerfully. He turned as Lynu'cha and the others were marched through the door, flanked by the rest of Hiero's squad.

“Frak me, is that them?”

“That's them.” Hiero confirmed, turning serious, “We've got three wounded coming in too. Tell the colonel and then go alert the medicae.”

“Yes sir.” said the insurgent, a dark look coming over his face as he pushed away from his station and disappeared through a sliding door.

The team were kept waiting for about 2 minutes, in which time the three wounded were stretchered inside in a hurry and carried past them through the door the insurgent playing receptionist had vanished through. The stretcher-bearers said nothing, but the young medicus and at least one other insurgent threw the team venomous looks as they passed. The dark-haired rebel-turned-receptionist reappeared shortly after.

“He says to take them up right away, sir.”

Hiero nodded, and turned to Edmund. “This way, inquisitor.”

He led them on a winding route across the main plant floor, through several rooms and over a gantry that bridged a pair of anaerobic digesters with sludge from the outdoor settling tanks chugging in at the bottom and out through the top. Brass pipes fed water into heating jackets strategically marked with arcane symbols, controlled by a servitor with its hands welded into a pair of control valves and a cable running from the back of its head linking it into some sort of feedback sensor. While the entrance hall had smelled of incense, the plant floor was heavy with the greasy, earthy smell of fermentation.

Hiero led the team up a flight of stairs into a red-lit control room. Dominating the room was a short man in a scarlet robe, who was facing a baffling array of cogitator screens built into the wall and paying absolutely no attention to the new arrivals. A hood shadowed his face and the only movement about him was from the sextuplet of mechadendrites that sprouted from his shoulder-blades and hooked round in front of him, waving gently back and forth like steel feelers. In a corner of the room sat a robed figure, murmuring quietly to himself as he thumbed through a deck of what looked like playing cards with clear plastic fronts. The ones already spread across his lap were giving out a faint glow that was almost swallowed by the heavy red light. The only person in the room who reacted to the team’s entrance was a tall man in uniform with sandy-blonde hair. Unlike the other insurgents he seemed to have taken pride in maintaining his appearance as well as his weapons, for he was clean-shaven and his blonde hair carefully trimmed. The red light emphasised the premature wrinkles that lined his face, a product of the relentless equatorial sun.

“Get the Tau out of my sight.” he said.

One of the partisans stepped forward and grabbed Lynu’cha by his armoured shoulder. The fire warrior said nothing, maintaining what dignity he could muster as he was led out of the room. The sandy-haired man gave a simple slice of his hand to dismiss the other regular insurgents who had accompanied the team, though Hiero stayed, and so did the two women in black. They moved silently to guard either side of the door with their right hands resting on the hilts of their long knives, blending into the background like the tech-priest and the astropath who remained absorbed in their own tasks.

“So.” the sandy-haired man said after a moment, “Inquisitor. I am brevet-colonel Crixus Drake of the amalgamated 44th Calisto regiment. Your presence is most welcome.”

If his name and regiment didn’t give him away as not being from Valkora, his voice did. He spoke Valkoran low gothic well, but with a strange accent; laying slightly too much emphasis on the vowels.

“That said…” he continued, “I would have hoped to have heard from any surviving Throne Agents sooner.”

CHAPTER 10

There were perhaps fifty people in the church, jostling for seats, and every one of them leapt to their feet in alarm as the three heavily-armed fire warriors carried the battered Victor through the front door and laid him down. At the front of the crowd, welcoming his parishioners, Joshua Faradn’s mouth fell open in shock.

“What in the Emperor’s name?” he breathed, and leaving Mira’s side he ran forward down the church nave to stoop beside the fallen man. He glanced up at the three Tau, clad in heavy suits of the old XV15 armour, whose stealth coating had been stripped away and replaced with heavier plating for close quarters combat. Genuine urban riot control.

“I’m glad you’re here, Shas’vre.” he said respectfully to the leading battle suit, and then more urgently: “Here, help me carry him through the back.”

******

Throughout it all, Kade had kept his gaze firmly on the floor. He hadn't really responded to the inquisitor. His whole world was too busy crashing down around him; plans and hopes smashing down like panes of glass on hard concrete.

Broken forever. That was him if they succeeded. They'd haul him of on the black ships and who knew what would happen to him.

When he had made it to the Colonel’s quarters, he spared a look for the astropath as he felt that familiar buzz in the back of his mind. He desperately didn't want to end up like that. Blind, broken, head full of other peoples thoughts from half a galaxy away. It made him shudder.

"Colonel Crixus Drake, sir." Alexander gave a crisp salute, then quickly moved his arm down to his carapace greaves. He placed his hand into his pocket and handed over his data disk. "It has Tau Devilfish patrol routes, armoury access codes, recommended strategic points and threat levels across the city districts.”

Kade glared at Alexander. This was insult to injury. How much more could he betray them? Hadn't the bastard already done enough? He returned his gaze to the ground. Maybe Alexander was in the right and he was in the wrong. He doubted he would get a second chance anyway - that wasn't how the Inquisition, or the Imperium, worked.

“You've been busy, Mr Jalousies.” Drake commented as he took the data disk and turned it over in his hands, “Hiero, go give that to Farahani, make sure it matches up with our own data. Anything we missed I want him to tell me right away.”

“Yes sir.” said Hiero, executing a precise turn and striding quickly from the room.

“I should also give you my thanks, sir,” Alex went on, “If not for your timely arrival we would have been dead. I can only blame myself though for what happened to Elisabeth; I promised her safety but she was wounded under my watch.”

Drake listened to the rest of Alexander's speech in silence. He had long known about the soft spot the former arbiter harboured for his fellow undercover agent.

“The important thing is you got her out of the hands of those bastard Tau.” he nodded to the younger man, “And I'm sorry we had to keep you out of the loop, but you know how we had to compartmentalise information for an op this big. If you really want a chance to hit back at the Fishes, then I'll send you along with sergeant Rana's squad. He'll fill you in on the rest of the plan.”

"Thank you sir, some revenge would be nice. I will just check in on Elisabeth and she how she is holding up then I will proceed to link up to sergeant Rana's squad."

"Revenge..." whispered the astropath in the corner, "Fitting that you use that word - the Hammer of justice, combined with the Five of Discordia for conflict - there's going to be a lot of revenge taken tonight."

The cards on his lap dimmed, the images on their plasticrystal faces draining away as he came out of his trance, raising his head towards the group. Beneath his shadowed hood was a face too pale-seeming for the equatorial climate, and his soft brown eyes had the unmistakeable glazed look of a blind man. And yet, he turned his head so that he was looking right at Edmund.

"Your soul burns bright, brother psyker." he said, still never raising his voice above a whisper, "And your aura is heavy with portent. Strange that I didn't foresee the arrival of such a powerful determiner, but then the Emperor does not show us what we wish to see, only what we need to see."

"Allow me to introduce Julian Novick, inquisitor." said Drake, looking at the pale astropath with the strange blend of respect and revulsion that the more educated Imperials tended to hold for psykers, "One of my most valuable advisors."

"I have my part to play." shrugged the astropath.

"Which we won't discuss here in front of those whose faith isn't as beyond question as the good inquisitor's." said Drake firmly, his eyes flicking over the other prisoners.

“I apologize for a lack of any contact with you,” said Edmund, “But I only recently arrived on this world. Since then, I've tried to make contact with you, but…issues…have occurred."

Edmund motioned back towards Alexander. Something had been bugging him since earlier, the first question on his mind when he entered the room.

"I'll get to my other questions first, but I have to ask; why did you fire on the vehicle I was in with Elisabeth?" Edmund asked, only curiosity in his voice. He didn't feel like he'd need his powers for this. In fact, his gut already told him one answer.

“My last contact with Elisabeth was to tell her to get to the safe house.” said Hiero, reappearing at the door, “We didn't know what had happened to her until we found you and these Fish-frakkers in the sewer.”

“You say someone fired on her?” Drake asked levelly. He too sounded curious. “It certainly wasn't one of my men.”

Edmund nodded in reply to the colonel's comments.

"Well then, I guess I owe all of you an explanation as to why we have met under such circumstances. Some time ago I decided to infiltrate Tau space in order to further my understanding of their society and the best way to deal with them as an enemy. I spent some time with their human forces, fighting against the multitude of Xenos threats and agents of the archenemy, all the while using my abilities to pressure them and apply stimuli to their structure to see how the Tau reacted. The results have been quite fascinating." He paused a minute to briefly look around the room.

“My arrival here on Valkora was literally a surprise to me. The unit I had been positioned alongside had recently been slaughtered, mostly due to my manipulations, and I managed to convince my superiors that I be sent to assist in peacekeeping on a border world, so that I could observe and see how the former faithful of the Imperator react to the falsity of the Greater Good. These observations have been...unexpected.”

“I should hope so, inquisitor.” said colonel Drake with a wolfish smile, “In Tasckird itself there’s no end of volunteers to our cause. They know that the alien propaganda is a sham. They know that there are even more surveillance cameras on our streets than before, and that the Tau are simply better at hiding them. Of course there are people - too many of them - who have fallen for the Tau’s lies, but those heretics will be dealt with in due course.”

He shot a meaningful look at the other survivors of Lynu’cha’s team - Kade, Pike and Blerr.

“Our biggest enemy here is apathy. So many of the Emperor’s faithful just want to keep their heads down so they can carry on with their daily lives. But that’s not enough for the Emperor. This is His world, and I’m sure He weeps to see it ruled over by alien filth. The people need to know who they ultimately answer to. Some of them remember, the ones who aid our cause. We’re going to remind the rest.”

“Now,” said Edmund, “The fact you didn't fire on myself and Elisabeth, and the fact that I am fairly certain the Tau did not fire on us either, means someone else is trying to make their own moves. Who that is I cannot say, nor will I voice my suspicions. However, as of now I have three requests. One, I would like to know what knowledge your psyker has gained from his readings. Two, at the spaceport there is a shipment of my things sent to this planet by a Rogue Trader I have associated with. I need your men to retrieve it. The Tau should not bother them for it.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible right now, inquisitor.” Drake said, shaking his blonde head, “My men are moving into position for a major operation and I need every last one of them.”

“Very well. Three, I want to speak with our captive…”

Drake looked at Hiero, then back at Edmund. “As you wish inquisitor. Normally I’d give you a lifetime to interrogate the alien, but under the circumstances I think we’ll have to limit it to a moment.”

Edmund began to turn to leave, but quickly he raised his hand and spun back around. “Oh, and Colonel, I would also like to be informed of what exactly your plans are for your operations. I wouldn't like having to dig for them myself.”

Drake flashed the wolfish smile a second time. “Walk with me, inquisitor. Master Novick, you too.”

At the mention of his name, the astropath silently rose from his chair and moved to join them.

“Hiero.” Drake went on.

“Sir?” said sergeant Rana, who had been standing behind the group with the two black-clad women since re-entering the room.

“I imagine you want to get back to your post before the fireworks start.”

The sergeant grinned broadly. “Yes sir. We won’t let you down, sir. The Emperor himself wasn’t as badass as me and my boys.”

“You blaspheme, Hiero.” Drake admonished him, gently.

“Aye sir, frequently and with relish.”

With that, Hiero saluted and left the room, heading back through the plant. The two women stayed in position until Drake, Novick and Edmund also moved to the door, at which point they turned wordlessly to follow. As they exited, Drake nodded to the two men in flak armour who stood guard on the other side. They slipped back through the door into the red-lit room, which was now empty apart from the three prisoners and the still-motionless tech priest.

“This way.” one of the guards growled, gesturing with his lasgun. They began to lead Kade and the others in the opposite direction to Edmund, towards the plant’s rear entrance.

******

Feeling that he was no longer required, Alexander gave one last salute then turned to leave. One thing caught his eye. The man named Kade was looking at him, but there was no time to walk over and gloat over the man. He needed to go and see Elisabeth, and so he headed for the medical facility.

The medical facility was clearly a converted servitor maintenance bay, and laid out across the tables were four of five casualties. Elisabeth lay next to the other wounded from the fight in the sewer, and even Alteus was there, the second hitman who had been wounded by Pike's rifle in their very first shootout at the pub on Peresov street. He was unconscious, apparently sedated. The three medicae going about the room looked up at Alex as he entered.

"How is she?" he asked them.

"She'll live." said the most senior doctor, a round-faced medica in her late thirties, "It's lucky I can treat her here - up in the mountains, without the proper equipment..." She shook her head.

"Ideally, I need a full hospital. But we make do with what the Emperor provides."

She made a variation of the sign of the Aquila that was seen on some eastern-fringe planets, touching either side of her collarbone to mark the eagle's twin heads and then below each shoulder to mark its wingtips.

"You can talk to her if you like." she offered, indicating Elisabeth's bed.

Alexander made the sign of Aquila. "Thank you ma'am. The Emperor provides, the Emperor protects."

Alexander walked past the doctor and continued to the bed she had pointed him towards. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and placed it in front of Elisabeth's bed.

"Hello there." he said, trying to sound positive, "Medica says you will be fine. Colonel Drake wants to give me a chance to hit back at the Fishes, so he will be sending me with sergeant Rana's squad."

Elisabeth raised her head weakly. She was still groggy with morphia. “If you're going with Hiero then you'll be part of the attack on Aotoris. Colonel Drake wants that xeno-loving heretic Faradn and all his frakking congregation dead. But that's only part of the plan.”

“And the rest?” Alexander prompted her.

Elisabeth shook her head. “I don't know. The colonel was very careful about compartmentalising information in case any of us got captured.” She grimaced, her voice slightly bitter. “Turned out to be a wise move.”

Alexander placed his helmet onto the end of the bed. "I am sorry."

“Don't apologise.” said Elisabeth. She leaned forward, reaching out unsteadily for Alexander's arm. She caught his wrist on the second attempt and gripped it hard. “Just kill them. Kill every last one of those traitor bastards, and kill every last mother-frakking Tau that tries to stop you. Give Aaron's death some meaning.”

Her eyes were diamond hard as she mentioned her brother, who had been Alteus' accomplice in their hit against the first of Faradn's heretics. Alteus had escaped, albeit with a serious injury – Aaron Marrick hadn't been so lucky.

"I...I...I...I." Alexander said, stuttering with his words, "Ah...I will be back, I promise you that."

He reached into his back pack and pulled out the laspistol he had given her earlier.

"Not much of a gift but its yours now and leverage of my return." Alexander placed his helmet back on, and put the weapon on the bench beside her. He rose from his chair and grasped her hand. "I..." he shook his head as words failed him yet again. "Will be back."

Alexander stood up and began walking out of the Medical Facility. He looked to the senior doctor.

"Take care of her for me."

The doctor nodded. Alexander saluted her and walked away. He continued moving through the facility, looking at the ever-present symbols of the Adeptus Mechanicus and the accompanying tech priests. Their work had been undisturbed by the Tau as they made sure the city’s public works stayed in working order, and the rebels were careful not to bother them either.

******

“I admit we’re not much of an army.” Drake said to Edmund as they wound their way through the plant, “When the bulk of the army surrendered I gathered together all the survivors I could. Officially I’m only a captain, but since everyone above me was either dead or captured I assumed command of the 44th and the other remnants that found their way south. The Tau have been hunting us down relentlessly, but we’ve been making up for losses by building up contacts within Tasckird itself. Many who couldn’t take up arms were still willing to serve as spies, and some even smuggled supplies out to us, or joined up for training. Novick found his way to us a few months ago, the last survivor of the old governor’s astropathic choir. About the same time, Septima and Decia here…” he gestured to the two women, who inclined their heads, “Appeared and offered us their services. They’re native to the mountains, from one of the old Death Cult temples that the Tau failed to weed out.”

“We were waiting for the right time.” explained Septima, the one with the round face and Anuk’ta’s blood still sticky about her right hand. “By surviving this long, Drake and his men proved their dedication to the Emperor.”

“They’ve been invaluable.” Drake returned the compliment, “But the key to our success is Novick.”

Again there was a strange mix of emotions in his words as he mentioned the astropath. Pride, and a little unease, as if he subconsciously resented the fact that his hopes hinged upon a psyker.

“We’ll never stop resisting the Tau, and we can hurt them, but we can’t drive them off Valkora for good. We need help from the wider Imperium for this. We need,” Drake smiled grimly, “A second crusade. And to call it in we needed an astropath.”

“The nearest Imperial planet is many light-years away.” whispered Julian Novick as he walked along beside Edmund, his green hood low over his eyes, his staff of office clicking on the tiled floor as he walked. The silver head of the staff, with the wireframe eye of the Telepathica, was original, but the shaft had obviously been lost or abandoned during his flight south; the head was attached to a simple piece of wood, which had probably been fashioned for him in the rebel’s mountain hideout. “For my message to travel far and fast enough to my brothers on loyal worlds, I need an astropathic relay.”

“Unfortunately,” Drake explained, “That relay is in the old choir chamber, which is in Imperial HQ. Which the bastard Tau have decided to use as their Fire Caste headquarters since the occupation.”

“As symbolic gestures go, not very subtle.” commented Decia, the other death cultist. Her voice was rich and slightly hard, matching her thin and chiselled features.

“We’ve been working for months to create an opportunity.” Drake went on, “Now we’re into the final phase. A little help from magos Ramado - he never forgave the Tau for desecrating his brothers’ factorums and stealing all their most prized artefacts - and we had a base to move from into the city, unseen. Over the last 12 hours we’ve been stepping up small attacks against the Fire caste to draw them out across the city. But the big attack will be tonight, against that traitor Faradn. He’s been preaching heresy for months now and what’s more, some misguided people are listening to him. He has to die.”

“Two enemies with one stroke.” Septima added, her bloodstained right hand flexing subconsciously, “Attacking in force will draw an overwhelming response from the Tau, but in so doing they will leave our true target exposed. We move as soon as the blasphemer has gathered his cult for his heretical sermon.”

“They should be arriving already.” said Drake, “Which is why we have to move now, and why regrettably I can’t spare any men to pick up your gear from the spaceport. But I believe we can answer your other question.” He nodded to Novick, “Tell the inquisitor what you saw, astropath.”

“I saw many fates converging.” Julian Novick murmured, his glazed brown eyes wide and staring, “I read that the Tau have suffered a great defeat at our hands many light-years away. I read that the Emperor’s eye has fallen upon Valkora, and the time for us to act is now. I read that the next few hours will see blood, and great sacrifice.”

"That is what I fear,” Edmund responded to the other psyker and his superior, “And I feel Faradn should be left to me. I feel as though he knows the key to what I suspect."

“I don’t expect us to hold the HQ.” Drake said grimly, “In truth, I don’t expect many of us to survive the night. But the people are restless after news came of our victory in the Zeist sector, and by striking a blow against the Tau and the heretics that want to bow down to them, we will set an example. And when they get Novick’s message, the rest of the Imperium will know that Valkora still fights. Even if every one of us dies tonight, and even if it takes them years, the Emperor’s armies will return to Valkora. And when they do, they’ll liberate it from these bastard Tau.”

They reached the door to a small storage room, where Drake paused for a moment.

“I’m not afraid to die, inquisitor. In this universe, a man has only two choices: you can either be sacrificed, or sacrifice yourself. My men and I have chosen to let our deaths stand for something.”

******

Hiero’s squad were all assembled in the reception hall when the sergeant himself appeared. Seven men, all ex-guard veterans, scruffily dressed but with well-maintained armour and lasguns. Unlike the colonel, who took pride in his personal appearance despite the rough life they had been living in the southern mountains, Hiero didn’t care how dirty his men got as long as their rifles were clean.

“Alright, boys and girls.” he said as he approached, “Let’s roll.”

“Sarge,” interjected one of the troopers, a young woman with her red hair cut short, “Someone wants to join the party.” She pointed behind her, and two heavy-set rebels shuffled aside to reveal Alexander Jalousies.

"Lieutenant Alexander Jalousies reporting for duty, sir."

To Alex’s mind he actually outranked Hiero, having being a lieutenant and a platoon commander before the planet’s assimilation. But he didn't mind; he just wanted some payback.

Hiero returned the salute. “Good to have you with us, LT.”

The sergeant knew something of the ‘arbiter’s’ undercover work inside the Tau police force. It wasn’t something he’d ever have done himself; for one thing he was too much of a blunt instrument, and for another he wasn’t comfortable with any sort of alien contact that didn’t involve shooting the xeno bastards in whatever passed for their face.

“Okay, let’s go. We’ve got less than 30 minutes until H hour.”

He led the team back outside, and down into the sewers.Alexander was glad to have his rebreather back on; the smell would have been unbearable to his noble-born sensibilities and his air filter was working overtime. He strode along in the middle of the group, lasrifle in both hands, carefully judging his next move in case he slipped and hit the water. As they pressed on through the tunnel, the scorch marks of lasrounds in the walls signalled where the fighting had occurred before, when his very essence was in the balance and his life flashed before his eyes.

He placed his hand over the wall and stroked it as he continued moving. He felt a sharp pain hit his hand and stopped for a moment to view what it had been. He grabbed the object with both hands and thoroughly examined it. It was a piece of shrapnel from the grenade that he had given Mikhailov.

"I am sorry, comrade. When this is over I will be back to give you a proper burial." He said under his breath as he placed the piece into his pocket. All the while, he was thinking of Mikhailov's vision of a free world - one without the Greater Good or the Imperium. He shook his head to displace any heretical thought and put his mind on the objective in front of him. "The Emperor provides, the Emperor protects."

He looked to Hiero. "So what’s the plan?"

“The plan, sir,” replied the sergeant as they jogged through the sewers, “Is to wait for the heretic to assemble all his followers for their evening sermon, and then kill them all while they’re in the one place. Then we make as much noise as we can so the Fishes come haring after us and leave the rest of our boys clear to get Novick into the HQ.”

"Graceful, like a swan without wings." Alexander replied sardonically.

******

“You could say it’s your lucky day, heretics.” said one of the guards conversationally as they led Kade, Pike and Blerr outside into a small courtyard ringed by a high mesh fence. The sun had set, and the sky was rapidly darkening, “Gaius here is a priest.”

“Well, almost.” corrected the insurgent called Gaius, “I was in training with the Ministorum before I got called up for the PDF - never got ordained, but I am qualified to administer the basic rites. So if you’ve got any last confessions I will hear them on the Emperor’s behalf. Of course, as traitors I cannot absolve you, but perhaps the Emperor in his infinite mercy can.”

The two of them gestured for the three Gue’vesa to line up against the sun-bleached wall of the water treatment plant. While the second insurgent covered them with his lasgun, the one called Gaius made the sign of the Aquila over each of them in turn, murmuring in high Gothic as he did so.

“In nomine Imperator, be saved, filthy though thou art.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” said Pike, in his usual non-committal drawl, “But I’d rather get my last rites from a proper priest and not some two-bit trainee who never properly earned his cassock.”

Gaius stood back and looked at the other man, his expression of pity quickly giving way to a scowl of disgust. Despite his words, it was clear that he was a soldier first and a confessor second.

“Well in that case,” he said, bringing his lasgun up to his shoulder. His companion did the same.

“No more mister nice Gaius. Goodbye traitor, and I hope daemons frak your corpse.”

******

Edmund followed Drake, nodding at his denial to send soldiers to gather his gear. The operation was truly about to begin, and he understood Drake's reason. He still needed that gear, and with his suspicions gradually rising he needed it soon.

"You and your men's loyalty is commendable, colonel. If only all your fellow servants of the Emperor could be the same. Your plan appears to be sound, and I wish you the best with your operation, but I have a feeling my investigation is not yet complete. I cannot exactly say what or why, but something seems off. I hope you can understand."

When they stopped at the door the inquisitor contemplated what Drake said about sacrifice. He seemed to be a good soldier.

"Your faith has done the Imperator a great service. No matter what occurs on this day, know that your men could do nothing more pleasing to him." He turned to enter the room, but just as he placed his hand on the knob he looked back at Drake. “Oh, and Colonel. The boy, Kade. I want him released and brought to me as well. He has potential. The others are up to your men.”
“As you wish, inquisitor.” said Drake, and pulled a vox unit from his belt.

******

Nylor Kade had his eyes shut tight, but he still heard the snap of the lasgun, and then the thud of something heavy tumbling to the ground. Beside him he heard Erek Blerr open his mouth to protest, to plead. He had been born and raised in the Greater Good, and had never betrayed the Imperium and its Emperor. He truly believed that humans and Tau could co-exist in peace, and bore no ill will towards the subjugated Imperials. Kade recalled that the Gue’vesa’la was barely older than him - only 19, still almost a boy. The end came for him anyway; his short, promising life snuffed out by a second crack and a second thud.

Kade tried to remember the benediction to the Emperor that the faithful were supposed to recite when they saw their own death staring them in the face, but in his current state of fear his mind went blank, and the words would not come. The only thing he knew, as he heard the two insurgents shuffle into position in front of him with shouldered lasguns, was that he was going to die.

And then there was a crackle of static from one of the rebels’ vox units. The rebel hesitated, then Kade heard the lasgun clatter back down into a ready position while the man groped for his vox. Kade opened his eyes.

“Yes sir?” Gaius was saying, with the blocky vox receiver at his ear and his lasgun slung in his other hand, “No, sir. Just in time, sir. Yes sir, will do. Out.” He seemed confused, but clearly knew better than to argue with his superior.

The preacher-soldier returned his vox to his webbing, and dropped his hand back to his weapon. Kade’s heart jumped back into his mouth, but to his amazement Gaius went for the lasgun’s dial and flicked it to ‘safe’.

“Guess it’s your lucky day.” said the rebel, but his expression said more. Not only was it lucky, it was too lucky. The two rebels were glancing at each other as if the Emperor himself had just intervened.

“Well I’m not one to argue with His will…” said Gaius quietly, and motioned to his comrade, “Take him back inside, I’ll deal with these two.”

Kade let the second insurgent usher him back into the building, not looking at the bodies of Pike and Blerr as he passed them.

******

Back in the church in Aotoris district, Joshua Faradn carried Victor through the rows of parishioners, who turned to each other and whispered nervously.

“Can I help?” asked Mira anxiously as they reached the door that led through to their living quarters in the back of the building.

“Settle the people,” Faradn said quietly to his partner, “Tell them I need to help this man. I won’t be long.”

Faradn left Mira glancing anxiously at the congregation and the three armoured Tau standing by the main entrance, and closed the door behind him. He laid Victor face-down on the double bed in his and Mira’s room, surrounded by the paintings he had made of his past visions. He rolled up the sleeves of his white robe, revealing an intricate pattern of scars across his forearms. Mira had asked him about it not long after they had met, when he accidentally let her catch a glimpse of them. Penance, he had told her. He was known to be a pious man, and being a psyker had always made him feel unclean before the Emperor, but it was his recent actions that plagued him the most.

“Do you think it’s right?” he remembered asking his faithful partner in a moment of doubt, “To turn your back on some of the Emperor’s teachings in order to embrace what’s best for His people?”

He put the memory from his mind as he placed his hands over the las wounds on Victor’s back, and closed his eyes. Despite the ways and means he had found of controlling his powers, without the benefit of the dogmatic Psykana teachings, it still took concentration to use them safely.

An eerie blue glow surrounded Faradn’s hands, seeming to radiate from within his skin so that his veins stood out darkly. The glow spread to encompass Victor, whirls of ethereal light pooling around the areas where the Gue’vesa had been most seriously injured. Faradn’s brow furrowed, his handsome face taut with concentration. His jaw was clenched and his eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids. Quickly, the wounds in Victor’s back healed themselves, unblemished skin now standing out pink beneath shredded and bloodstained clothes. The ethereal light faded. Faradn pulled his hands away, his eyes flying open as he sucked in a deep breath.

At the same moment, Victor awoke. He did so with a start, his eyes flying open. Panic began to set in as he looked around and did not recognize where he was. The last thing he remembered was seeing the battlesuit team. But where was he?

Slowly sitting up, he looked around and saw the art that surrounded him. The paintings instantly caught his attention, and caused him to completely ignore the fact that Faradn was sitting right beside him. The scenes depicting the violence in the streets excited Victor, and he could feel his heart begin to race. Not only did the subject matter draw him in, so to did the application of the brush strokes. The longer he studied the paintings, the more he could have sworn that real blood was running through the streets in them. True art - the work of someone who saw as he saw, and had translated those sights perfectly onto canvas.

Then he noticed the large painting of the road outside. He had seen the picts of the recent violence, but they didn’t even come close to resembling this piece of art. This left him a bit confused. It also left him wanting. To see the street actually run red with such blood would be art beyond anything he saw in this room.

“Oh to see this made real,” he voiced aloud, forgetting that Faradn was still in the room with him.

“That can be arranged.” said a voice inside Victor’s head. But it was not Faradn’s voice. It was the soft, feminine voice he had heard during his semi-conscious drift through the sewer.

“It’s always good to meet another artist.” the voice went on - gentle, but with a cold authority running beneath the surface. It was like velvet wrapped around steel. “Stay with me and I’ll see if I can’t grant you your wish…and more besides. But we need to keep up the masquerade for a little longer. The misguided fools are coming, and if we can survive their attack then it will put our cause in the spotlight, but first we must survive.”

Faradn looked at Victor in concern, worried about the apparent disorientation that had brought on his non sequitur. “Are you feeling alright? I’ve done what I can, but you should still take it easy for a bit.”

He helped the short Gue’vesa to his feet.

“I see you managed to ruin that jacket as well.” the cult leader said with a slight smile. “Here, there’s one of my spare robes in the drawer. It’ll have to do for the moment.”

Victor took a moment’s pause. So enthralled was he by the paintings that he had totally forgotten about his jacket. Now he looked down and started to growl. Once again his jacket had been destroyed. What had been a moment of pure joy quickly became pure rage. His one redeeming thought was that Soren’s friend had joined him at the false God-Emperor’s side. With his scowl firmly in place he peeled the jacket off and let it fall on the floor.

“Yes Sir, it is a mess.” Victor stated to Faradn. “The robe would be most welcomed. This planet just isn’t warm enough for my liking.” He smiled as Faradn retrieved the robe and handed it to him.

“Affirm your allegiance.” whispered the voice inside Victor’s head as he picked up the simple white robe, gently caressing his subconscious, “Cast off what came before and embrace your true potential.”

With a sense of purpose Victor put the robe on and followed Faradn back out to the front of the chapel.

“Now,” Faradn went on, moving to the door, “My flock is calling. We need to mourn Gideon, and they’ll need reassurance after that unforgivable murder…”

******

Shas’vre Fire Spider observed with disinterest as Mira led the welcoming ceremony in her partner’s absence. In spite of their new loyalties, the congregation were still clearly devout believers in that Emperor god of theirs. They bowed their heads and made the sign of the Aquila as Mira broke up and handed out small pieces of communion bread. The more devout among them were solemn and wide-eyed, and a few were shivering with apparent religious ecstasy as they put the bread to their lips.

Yes, the human religion was a curious one, but Fire Spider’s attention was focussed elsewhere. He had been watching the street outside, and he had noticed that in the last ten minutes, no-one had passed through on business. He had even seen a few civilians leave their houses, lock the doors and hurry away, looking back nervously over their shoulders. It was almost as if someone had told them to stay away.

Fire Spider had a feeling that some kind of trouble was imminent.

CHAPTER 11

“I assume our guest is in here." said Edmund.

Drake nodded, and remained outside talking into his vox as Edmund entered a small servitor repair bay where Lynu’cha sat slumped in a corner, guarded by one of Drake’s men.

“Hello Lynu'cha. I hope you are not too angry with me, and I want you to understand I am not like my compatriots. But right now I have a feeling both your people and mine are under a threat from a different party, and only with cooperation between ourselves will we be able to ensure my fears do not come to pass. I hope you still trust me Lynu'cha; everything I did while on your side was completely true.”

“How can I trust you now, Gue’vesa’ui?” the Tau said, but there was no real defiance in his words. The fire warrior was clearly broken by recent events. All he had wanted was to further the Greater Good, and prove himself in the process. The discovery of Faradn and his Cult Pacifica could be the key to lasting peace in Tasckird, but not while these dissidents still resisted. And now he discovered too late that his former second-in-command was one of them. He had dishonoured the Fire caste with his lack of vigilance, and he had failed the Greater Good.

Not yet, said a small spark inside the Shas’la’s mind. This is not over.

“But trust hardly matters at this moment.” he continued after a pause. “It seems I am in your power, Gue’vesa’ui, so what would you have me do?”

“We need to go, inquisitor.” said Drake, appearing at the door. He spared the captive Lynu’cha a brief glance and made the sign of the Aquila towards him, as if to ward off some spiritual contamination effected by the alien’s mere presence. “My men are in position, and I need to be there when the attack begins.”

“Us too.” said Septima, and her fellow death cultist nodded in silent agreement, “I want to see the blasphemer die with my own eyes.”

“One more moment.” said Edmund. "Lynu'cha, for the sake of both our species I must have an answer to this question now. In the records of Tasckird since the occupation, have there been any cults springing up associated with the warp, or sorcery, or other blasphemous activities. I cannot tell who it is, but some group is working against our side and yours. For right now, we share a common purpose: to discover this real threat." Edmund paused a second, looking back at the colonel and the assassins.

"Did your message ever reach command?" He asked plainly.

"I do not see why not." said Lynu'cha slowly, though just by saying it Edmund had inevitably put doubt in his mind, "I sent the Kor'vesa back with orders to protect citizen Faradn and his people as a matter of priority."

Neither he nor Edmund could have known that his mechanical courier had been shot down on the way there. There would be no quick reinforcements for the Cult Pacifica when the rebels attacked. And that was exactly how someone wanted it.

"Kor'la Anuk'ta also knew my wishes. I trust her to further the Greater Good regardless of what happens to me and the rest of my team."

The fire warrior's words elicited a laugh from the two death cultists. It was a cold, mirthless sound.

"Your Kor'la is dead, alien." said Septima, holding up her blue-stained hand, "I cut its throat myself."

Tau were usually more subdued in their facial expressions than humans. Even anger usually showed as little more than a narrowing of the eyes and a tightening of the jaw. But for a second, Lynu'cha's usually calm face dissolved into what was clearly a mask of rage. It vanished a moment later when the rebel soldier covering him shifted menacingly, and he realised that there was nothing he could do to revenge himself on the gloating death cultist.

"She died in service to the Greater Good." he said quietly, "As is right. But she deserved better."

"It," said Septima, stubbornly dehumanising Anuk'ta by refusing her the dignity of a gender pronoun, "Was an alien, and got exactly what it deserved."

"Enough, sister." said Drake placatingly, perhaps sensing the delicacy of the situation given Edmund's association with Lynu'cha, "Private, get the Tau on his feet. Inquisitor, if you wish to accompany us, we're moving now." He turned to Septima and Decia, honouring them both with a sign of the Aquila, "Sisters, guard master Novick. He's the key to this whole operation."

Edmund fell into step beside Drake, his eyes looking at the assassins first. "I want you to understand that Faradn is a psyker, one I feel may be more powerful than I currently think - I cannot tell. But for now I would like for Kade and the Shas'la to accompany me. I do not know if I will be able to support you, but I will render assistance when possible."

Walking away, he reached his mind out towards the Cathedral the others were at, the tendrils of his mind briefly reaching to all available. He found his target - Mira - quickly, and burrowed into her mind in just the same amount of time. It was a quick, rush job - one only really suitable for this situation. Edmund didn't care if he left a trace for Faradn to follow; in truth he wanted to see the man's capabilities. But he had to run off with a trove of knowledge to see this through. Something had to be in the woman's mind. Something to work with.

******

Several of the parishioners made the sign of the Aquila as they saw Faradn re-enter the main church with a now-healed Victor, the short Gue'vesa reborn in white. To the members of the Pacifica, Faradn had been open about his powers - in fact the story of how the Tau had accepted them, where the Imperium never would have, formed a cornerstone for many of his sermons. Under the less strict Tau regime he no longer needed to hide them, and although his followers were still instinctively wary - prejudices that had been ingrained over a lifetime by the Imperial Creed didn't simply go away overnight - he won them over by his natural charisma, and by demonstration that he used his psychic curse for good rather than evil. By healing Victor, he demonstrated such yet again.

Mira looked over her shoulder, and smiled as she saw Faradn and Victor. Then, suddenly, she froze, the tray of communion bread dropping from her nerveless fingers to clatter on the floor.

"Mira?" said Faradn, rushing forward to her side when she didn't respond, "Mira!"

Mira was in agony, and yet she couldn't cry out. Her vision kept blurring with seemingly random images from her own memory, which vanished again just as quickly, as if someone was reaching down into her subconcious and physically ripping them out of her head. Precious memories like the last days before her father and aunt had shipped out to some far off world. Painful memories like the battle of Tasckird, where her home district had been half ruined in the struggle between the Imperials and the Tau, and several of her friends had died. Private memories like the first time she and Joshua had made love. All dredged up from her subconscious and stolen without selection or care.

Back in his physical body, Edmund searched through the memories with practiced efficiency. Here was Mira at 15, holding on to her mother for support while a similarly solemn-looking man and woman waved goodbye from the window of a mag-lev train. From other memories he knew that these were Mira's father and aunt, who served in the PDF as an infantry sergeant and a pilot respectively. Their regiment had been selected for service in the Imperial Guard as part of the Imperium's annual tithe. Mandatory service in the Guard was ten years with optional extension, but even if they survived their tour of duty and opted out, it was very difficult for Guardsmen to afford passage back to their homeworld. It was highly probable that the man and the woman on the mag-lev would never come home, and the Mira in the memory knew it.

Now he was with Mira in the canteen of the steelworks, her workplace, perhaps three years ago. She was discussing art with a co-worker, an idle conversation to take her mind off the nutrient broth that she was pushing around her bowl unenthusiastically. The co-worker mentioned a friend of hers called Joshua. So, Edmund thought, Mira had been telling the truth when she told them about how she and Faradn had met. He fast-forwarded through the whirlwind romance, Faradn's revelation of his powers and Mira's affirmation that she knew he was a good man regardless. He found two more scenes, quite recent, that piqued his interest.

The first vision was set in the familiar church. He saw Faradn and Mira in their room, Mira sitting watching her partner paint as she often did. As well as biomancy he was gifted - or cursed - with dream-based precognition, and he painted what he saw as an outlet. Without his art, Mira sometimes thought privately, he would probably go insane.

"Don't you see anything good, Josh?" Mira asked, wrapping her arms around the young priest from behind and resting her chin on his shoulder. Faradn stroked her hair distractedly.

"Not lately." he sighed, "There's another war coming, Mira. The angels of death will win a great victory against the Tau in a sector not far from here, and news of it will tip those partisan extremists over the edge. There's a lot of other people who still don't know what to believe, and if I don't sway them, Drake and his fanatics will. And this will be the result."

He pointed at the half-finished painting. It was the one of all-out war on the streets of Tasckird, with Tau and humans alike lying dead in the gutters.

"That's why I've got to keep preaching my message, Mira." he said. "I've got to save the city from this."

In the second vision, only a few days old, Edmund followed Mira up the nave of the same church, towards the front doors where Faradn was talking to someone. It was late evening, and the darkness beyond the stained glass windows had deprived them of their colour. Faradn turned when he heard Mira approaching.

"Go back, sweetheart." he told her firmly.

"No." Mira answered. She knew exactly who the person at the door was. It was Soren, one of Drake's men, and this wasn't the first time he had visited them this late at night.

"This is your last chance, Faradn." the insurgent was growling, "If you don't stop what you're doing then we're going to take action. Against you and every heretic that follows you."

"Your Imperium doesn't rule here any more, Soren." replied Faradn stonily, "The Tau look after their own, and so do I. Get out."

"That you fall for the Tau's lies yourself is bad enough." the insurgent spat back, "But trying to bring the Emperor's faithful down with you is worse than heresy - it's treason."

"Get out." said Mira, stepping forward in support of her partner. Soren shook his head.

"May the Emperor have mercy on both of you." he said as he turned away. "Because we won't."

Faradn's shoulders sagged as he closed the door.

"You didn't have to do that," he sighed, "I don't want your hands stained with the same blood as mine."

Mira shook her head and twined her hands in his. "My hands hold yours, don't they? They're stained regardless."

Faradn smiled at that, and that made the Mira in the memory happy.

Having drawn everything he was going to get out of the young woman's mind, Edmund withdrew. At the same moment, a mile and a half away, Faradn reached Mira's side, leaving the young woman to collapse in his arms like a puppet whose strings had been abruptly severed.

******

“Absolutio.” a voice challenged softly to Alex and the others as they approached a ladder leading up to an open manhole cover.

“Damnatus.” Hiero answered, and hauled himself up. “Quickly!” he said to the others, “Septima and Decia took out the nearest camera during that FUBAR of an op this afternoon, but that doesn’t mean the Fishes don’t have other ways of watching.”

Alex climbed up after Hiero and found himself on the corner of a deserted road. He placed his arms on the surface as he stood back up, swung his lasgun over his back and placed both hands to his side. At the back door of the first in a long line of terraced houses, a rebel in flak armour was beckoning them. Not far away, light streaming through its arched stained-glass windows, was Faradn’s church.

“You been keeping an eye on those bastards?” Hiero asked the rebel as they all ducked into the cover of the building. Inside, the kitchen seemed to have been turned into a makeshift armoury, and there were two more rebels talking softly on the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Like an Aquila, sergeant.” the rebel grinned.

“Well you can stop being an Aquila now, Farren.” said Hiero, returning the grin, “As soon as the colonel gets here, it’s time to be a pigeon and crap all over those warp-damned sons of bitches.”

“Yes sir!” said Farren enthusiastically, then paused, “You should know, sir, about ten minutes ago a battlesuit team turned up, and they ain’t leaving.”

“Come to the party, eh?” Hiero replied, seemingly unconcerned. For the first time the odds of a battle were in their favour, if only temporarily; they had more than enough firepower to overwhelm a single battlesuit team. “Then for what those bastards are about to receive, may the Emperor make them truly thankful…”

Alexander was walking around surveying the weapons the other rebels had laid out. He reached for spare power cells, a handful of frag grenades and an autopistol after having given Elisabeth his previous sidearm. At Hiero’s cheerful declaration he turned, less confident than the sergeant.

"Battlesuits… should we rethink our strategy? Or do we have any heavier weapons - grenade launchers, missile launchers and such." He turned around and grabbed another handful of frag grenades. "We are going to need them."

"The Emperor has graced us with some heatseek rockets." Hiero replied cheerfully, pointing towards a pair of krak missile launchers that were propped up against the wall, "And a meltagun. Not sure if the heatseekers still work since we haven't had a tech-priest since we were driven south, but they'll still make a mess of anything they hit. We'll open up with them after the lasguns."

Both Hiero and Alex knew that you always opened fire with small arms before heavy weapons - it was much harder for the enemy to locate where the heavies were firing from if they were already distracted and pinned down by a frak-tonne of las.

"Alright, you bastards." the sergeant hissed, now addressing all of the rebels, "Firing positions along the terrace, all floors. Assault section, get ready to move."

******

"Hiero," Drake said into his vox as he and his bodyguard sprinted through the sewers, less than 5 minutes away from the exit Hiero and the others had used. His companions consisted of inquisitor Rourke with Kade and Lynu'cha in tow, half a dozen hard-bitten insurgents who were forbidden to ask questions about the former, and Septima and Decia who were carrying the blind astropath Novick between them so that he could keep up. "Be advised that according to our prisoner the Tau may have already called in reinforcements. Don't get yourselves isolated out there."

"Don't worry sir," Sergeant Rana acknowledged with his trademark dark humour, "I'll see the mission done if it kills me. Or if it kills anyone else, for that matter."

A smile flickered at the corner of Drake's mouth, and with the tap of a rune he switched channels.

"All units, this is colonel Drake." he paused, taking a breath to order his words, "Darkness has fallen upon our world, this we cannot deny. But today we expel that darkness. In our hands is the light of the Emperor. Every one of us alone is a small light. All of us together eclipse the sun! We will fight darkness, drive back the night! We will fight in the name of the Emperor! In His name, attack!"

******

"Mira?" said Faradn, cradling the young woman in his arms and ignoring the parishioners who were crowding around in an attempt to help. Mira was crying, but in what seemed more like anger than pain. Faradn too was angry - murderously angry. He had sensed the aftershock of the invasive psychic presence as it made its hasty withdrawal, and he knew exactly what had just happened. The only other psyker he had met so far had been Kade, but this projected mind didn't feel like that of the young Gue'vesa. It was too cold, too merciless. It had to be one of Drake's men. Faradn hadn't known that the rebels had a psyker among their number. He had underestimated them. Nevertheless, when Faradn found out who the culprit was, he would burst every blood vessel in their brain.

"Mira?" he said again, his carefully refined speech and manner abruptly gone, "Mira who was it? WHO WAS IT?"

He was cut off by an explosion of lasfire, a series of loud cracks against the front wall of the building. A large splinter of wood spalled off the inside of the arched main doors, sweeping a lethal arc down the nave and only missing everyone by pure luck. The congregation screamed and instinctively dived for cover behind the pews.

Outside the front door, Shas'vre Fire Spider saw the row of houses opposite come alive with bright threads of lasfire. It was suppressing fire, but it was deadly accurate all the same. The Shas'vre felt several heavy impacts against his armour, ablative plates disintegrating as they absorbed the energy of the shots. If he and his team didn't find cover, either inside the church or somewhere else, they'd be chewed up in seconds.

******

Kade flinched, like he had been slapped.

He had felt the Inquisitor reach out with his mind, and knew that he had done something... monstrous to someone. And then, chaos had erupted in the assault on the church. As he made his way into the terrace and upstairs he saw Alexander crouched behind the window frame. The ex-arbiterwas timing himself; every three seconds he would pop up, line up a shot and take cover again. He wanted his targets to go down, not to suppress.

Three! He stood, took a deep breath and looked down his weapons sight, he adjusted the scope and lined up a parishioner.

"May the Emperor forgive you."

He pulled the trigger as he watched the beam of light smash through one the glass windows and smack into the back of the cowering civilian. Then he hid back behind cover. He watched as the irregulars blazed into the building’s side, keeping up the suppression as Farahani's squad tried to outflank the enemy.

******

"Get down!" roared Joshua Faradn, using his psychic voice to carry over the screams, "GET DOWN!"

With an effort he had clamped down on his anger and focussed on the needs of the moment. He had known that this moment was coming, but as he had said to Mira he had prayed that it would not be tonight.

"We have to get them out!" Mira shouted over the noise. She was lucid again, galvanised by the immediate threat.

"No! If we go outside it'll be a shooting gallery!"

"But the back door...!"

Faradn froze. The back door. "Oh shit." he breathed.

******

Sergeant Farahani's squad had emerged from the alleyways on the opposite side of the church shortly after the firing had started. On point was Thorn, a veteran from Drake's Calisto regiment. The man was still horrified by the accidental civilian deaths his team had witnessed when Alexander blew up that Devilfish, and he hoped that killing these heretics would earn him a measure of the Emperor's forgiveness.

He reached the church's back door, the one that led into Joshua and Mira's living quarters, without incident. There were only three battlesuits guarding the church and they could not cover the whole perimeter, especially when Hiero and the others were pouring intense fire into them from the other side.

"On three." said a second insurgent who reached the door at the same moment. Thorn already had a frag grenade in his hand. "One...two...three!"

His team-mate broke in the door with a single kick. Thorn pulled the pin and got ready to toss the frag as the door opened into the room beyond. Standing inside were three figures in white - Faradn, Mira and Victor.

"Get." snarled Faradn, and his words seemed to echo terrifyingly as he projected them with both his voice and his mind, "Out. Of my! Church!"

It was then that Thorn realised he couldn't let go of the grenade. His fingers seemed to have frozen, locked around the deadly explosive. He shook his arm in panic, trying to pry his treacherous fingers loose with his other hand.

He died anyway.

Squad leader Farahani swore as he heard the explosion. Thorn and his fellow point-man were dead, and he couldn't even stop to figure out what had happened because now another one of his men had gone down screaming, with his hands over his eyes. Blood was bursting from between his fingers.

"God Emperor!" Farahani shouted, dragging the wounded man backwards while he fired at the open door with the laspistol in his free hand. He didn't know what was causing the carnage, but he did know that it was killing his men. "Fall back! Fire team 2, covering fire!"

At first, Victor was at a loss as to what had just happened. Then herecognised the sound of lasrounds as they began to impact the chapel’s exterior. So the attack has begun Victor thought, andthe vicious smile returned to his face. With practiced ears he heard the sound of the stealthsuits surge into action, and wished he was able to join them as he knelt down and picked up one of the dead insurgents’ dropped lasrifles. Getting back to his feet he opened fire on the retreating insurgents and managed to hit one in the back before they made it back in to cover.

“And the streets shall run red this night.”

******

Three! Alexander counted again. He stood and sought his next target, though his attention was then distracted as the church’s rear door was kicked open and a guardsmen attempted to throw a grenade… only then for that grenade to become stuck to his own hand. Alexander looking for the culprit but could not get a shot.

"Emperor save us, did any one else see that!?"

Kade knew exactly what he was talking about. Throne he could feel it from here… Faradn was pushing himself as hard as he dared.

"Call off your men." he said to Drake. The whole squad looked at him. "Call them off. If you push him any harder something terrible could happen."

"What are talking about?" demanded colonel Drake. Kade turned to face him and looked him squarely in the eye.

"He's not sanctioned. If you keep pushing him you could cause something much worse. Pull back now. It’s not worth it, I promise you."

“We are the Imperial Guard.” Drake snarled, angry at being challenged in front of his own men by a mere boy, and moreover one that the inquisitor himself had recently vouched for, “You expect us to just run from a heretic, no matter what warp-spawned powers he’s using? No. This is our one and only chance.”

“I’ll see the traitor psyker dead by my own hands.” Decia promised, raising her voice in support of the colonel. Like her sister cultist, her usually-blank face was stirred into passion by the proximity of the Emperor’s foes and the intensity of the battle around her.

“The boy is correct, Colonel.” butted in Edmund, “Your men are out of their league. And at this moment I'd rather prefer not to come closer to revealing my presence. Not everything is still right in my mind, something still worries me.”

Drake hesitated. While he could easily overrule Kade, he was less sure about ignoring the order of an inquisitor, even one who was cut off from all Ordo support. While the colonel vacillated, Edmund paused a second and looked at the Death-Cultists.

“What did your men do with the Devilfish?”

“We left it in the street.” said Septima, her fingers curling and uncurling around the hilt of the sword at her waist in subconscious agitation. “We didn’t have time for anything else.”

In the next room one of the rebel missile launchers fired, slashing a white line of smoke across the street and tearing up vast chunks of asphalt in the detonation. One of the Tau battlesuits was caught directly in the blast.

"Good shot soldier." said Alexander, and slapped the trooper with the missile launcher on the back, "That's one less Tau frakker, now reload and fire on their leader."

******

Fire Spider came crashing through the church doors into the harder cover of the antechamber, dragging one of his Shas’ui behind him while the other sent a stream of pulse fire stitching across the second floor windows of the terrace in an attempt to cover their retreat. The Shas’ui in Fire Spider’s arms was a brother, joined to him by the unbreakable bonds of Ta’lissera. He had served with Fire Spider faithfully for two years, but his pressurised battlesuit could only provide so much protection against the blast wave of the human missile, and now he was gravely wounded. The suit itself was relatively intact, but the Tau inside was too wounded to fight on. And in the immediate intensity of the battle, Fire Spider could offer him no more than the briefest of attention, brother though he was. He channelled his frustration and his sorrow into rage, firing the fusion gun on his left arm into the terrace in a glare of white light that sent chunks of superheated stone along with two insurgents spilling into the street below.

They were outnumbered and outgunned. If the insurgents rushed them now, they would be overwhelmed. But for some reason they were holding back. Perhaps these Gue’la were not true soldiers, slow to see opportunity or intimidated by the prospect of leaving their cover to advance across the open street. Fire Spider was grateful for their timidity, and he and his one remaining Shas’ui sought to reinforce it as they poured what fire they could back at the rebels. All the same, it was a single salvo against a hurricane, and the weight of the insurgents’ fire quickly drove them back into cover. Fire Spider activated his radio for what he suspected might be his last transmission.

“To any Fire caste in the area, this is Shas’vre Mal’caor’shas. Mayday, mayday, mayday. We are under attack by overwhelming insurgent forces, approximately 40 Gue’la with heavy weapon support. Request immediate reinforcements.”

Behind him, Mira stooped by the barely-moving Shas’ui that Fire Spider had no time to tend to. She was no medic, and so did the only thing she could for the critically-wounded Tau, and took his hand in hers. Despite the barrier of species, the four-fingered gauntlet closed convulsively around her small hand. Mira bit her lip. She didn’t have the medical knowledge to help the Tau inside, but she knew how she could help their cause. Removing the fire warrior from his armour might kill him, but their situation was desperate. She wondered what Joshua would do, what the Tau himself would want her to do, and came up with only one answer. For the Greater Good.

“Josh said you were a Sentinel pilot!” she shouted at Victor, who was still guarding the back door, “Can you pilot this?”

Victor heard Mira call out to him and he ran to her without thought. She was kneeling beside a stealthsuit with the pilot lying next to her. It was the clear the pilot was wounded, yet the stealthsuit looked to be intact; and more importantly empty.

“Yes, I was.” He suddenly understood what Mira wanted him to do, and his pulse quickened. “This should prove interesting.”

******

In the very centre of Tasckird, outside the Imperial HQ that now flew the flag of the Tau Empire, an insurgent watched the fortress from a hab window. He was keeping watch for the rest of Drake’s force, which was even now poised to begin its assault on the HQ. They were waiting for their commander’s order, and for the Tau to take the bait of the attack on the Aotoris church.

It seemed to be working. The young insurgent watched as two Orca dropships and the leviathan arrowhead profile of a Manta destroyer lifted off from the fortress in a scream of jets, rising above the crenulated rockrete battlements from the landing pad on the bastion’s south side. The insurgent fumbled for his vox.

******

Joshua Faradn continued to guard the back door alone. He was not the most powerful of biomancers, but he prided himself on his fine control over his powers, and now that the rebels had forced his hand that precision was being used to deadly effect. A quick stab of pressure to a specific blood vessel in the brain and another one of Farahani’s flanking squad was down, seizing violently. The preacher felt another psychic presence briefly touch his own, and to his consternation he recognised it. Kade.

“You too, brother?” he called out, his voice all but lost amid the crack of lasguns, but the words carried to the young Gue’vesa’s ears on a bow-wave of psychic force. He sounded more shocked and appalled than angry, but anger began to build up in his voice as he went on. “I take it then that you know the other psyker in that maniac Drake’s employ?”

Faradn knew that it had not been Kade who attacked Mira, but he did not know that the one who had was in fact also present, as Edmund was still keeping his psychic signature carefully shielded.

“Tell him he’s a coward.” Faradn went on obliviously, his psychic voice cold enough to burn. “He’ll rape the mind of my girlfriend but he won’t take on someone who can actually fight back!”

Edmund took several steps backwards before turning around. Faradn's comment angered him, and he truly wanted to destroy the man's mind. But now was not the time to reveal himself to any more bystanders. Instead he again chose a simpler path, barely even reaching out with his mind. A voice, cold and distant, with no inflection or accent, crawled into the preacher's head. To anyone else, it would just have appeared like a whisper in the breeze.

You know nothing of what you speak. I could crush your soul like an insect if I willed it. But you and I have similar purpose. Tell me what you dream of.

Faradn's response was glacially calm, but with something indescribably sinister roiling beneath the surface. Ah. So I'm guessing that you're the one who assaulted Mira. I have only one thing to say to you, coward, and that's if you think you can crush me like an insect, come and try.

Edmund remained unruffled.

“Well,” he said to Drake, “If you don't mind I'm going to requisition that Devilfish. I need my equipment.”

Drake bit his lip and looked out the window at the ongoing firefight. “As you wish, inquisitor, but be quick.”

“I will go with you, Gue'vesa'ui.” said Lynu'cha, speaking for the first time since they had left the base.

Drake, who was reluctant to let the Tau prisoner out of his sight, opened his mouth to argue. Once again however he was overruled by a glance from Edmund.

“Very well.” he muttered, “Consider yourself lucky you're still breathing, xeno.”

As Edmund and Lynu'cha hurried towards the back door, Drake's vox crackled with the message from his spotter near the Tau HQ.

“Delta, this is Kilo One. The Tau are moving; two Orcas and a Manta, might be the Shas’el himself. They’re heading for Aotoris, estimate they’ll be on you in less than 15 minutes.”

******

Alexander re-braced against the window and slowly moved his rifle over the top.

"May the Emperor guide my hand."

He stood and placed his eye against the sight. He took aim at the Tau with the fusion blaster and pulled the trigger. He re-steadied himself and fired repeatedly, shot after shot. When the magazine clicked empty, Alex walked along the room looking to each of the guardsmen.

“I want all fire concentrated on those xenos men, we take them down before moving onto the church. Then affix bayonets and prepare for a close quarter fight.”

Some of the rebels didn't know Alex, and were confused by his assumptions of authority. They looked to Hiero for a decision. In response, Drake's chief sergeant grinned with a feral intensity.

“You heard the LT. Let's kill the bastards!”

There were shouts of approval as the men and women at the windows redoubled their fire, while the designated assault team ran downstairs to stack up by the doors. Alexander quickly ran down the building’s stairs to join them, unable to resist being at the forefront of the attack. He stopped in front of the door, grabbing for his combat knife and placing it into the bayonet socket of his lasgun.

"I want a quick tight dispersal. Troopers form up on me, we go when I give the order."

“I am with you, arbiter.” said Decia softly. The chisel-featured death cultist had glided to Alex's side without a sound, the metre-long razor that formed her primary weapon sliding from its oiled sheath.

“Me too.” added Septima, a cold light glittering in her blue eyes.

“No, sister.” replied Decia, to the mutual surprise of both Alex and her fellow cultist, “Stay with the astropath.”

For a second Septima's round face looked mutinous, but then she relented and bowed her head. Alex and Decia left her behind as they joined four other flak-armoured rebels by the front door. Decia shouldered her way to the front, displacing a young insurgent who appeared to be wrestling with her nerves at the prospect of charging across the open street. Another older rebel was in a similar position, his knuckles white where he gripped his lasgun. The other two were steadier – probably veterans from Drake's regiment or else the PDF.

Alexander turned to the death cult assassins, still stunned by their sudden appearance. "Your valiant services are appreciated, sister. Find a spot and prepare for assault. Oh and don't call me arbiter, its lieutenant Jalousies now."

He looked over the group, seeing their unease - they were not eager to run over open ground.

"Soldiers of the Imperium, this is your moment of truth. You will not fear, you will not falter, you will not give a single step to the enemy. We are his soldiers and this is His planet. For are we not liberators? For the Imperium and for the Emperor!"

The snap-crack of lasfire from upstairs was deafening, but the return fire from the three battlesuits seemed to have stopped. They were pinned down. Now was the time.

“For the Emperor!” one of the rebels shouted as he threw the door open, clearing their way out into the street. The others took up the cry, as much to crush their fear as to show devotion. The six surged forward as Hiero and a dozen other insurgents poured from other doors along the terrace, covering fire still blazing over their heads. Alex and Decia led their group, the death cultist running low with her sword held out wide to one side.

“For the Emperor men!” Alex roared, “Charge!”

******

The normally-unflappable Shas'ui Es'ka was now in such a state of agitation that he was actually standing up in the back of his Devilfish as it sped through the streets of the Aotoris district. The Earth caste crime-scene investigators who made up the rest of his team were even more nervous, and they had a right to be, for Es'ka was about to take them into an active warzone. The whole situation was surreal, like a nightmare that Es'ka couldn't quite believe was really happening. Following several hours of increasing unrest and violence, including the death of Shas'la O'ran and her entire team, there was now open fighting on the streets of Tasckird. And it seemed to have come out of literally nowhere. Es'ka still didn't know the whole situation, but for Fire Spider, the Shas'kar'tyr's heavyweight, to be screaming for reinforcements the situation had to be truly dire. Aside from Es'ka himself his team were not soldiers, but the Greater Good demanded that they help, even if it was just to use their vehicle as a shield as they lifted Fire Spider and his team to safety. But hopefully, they would have proper backup when they did.

“Where is La'Lynu'cha's team?” Es'ka asked, his bionic eye whirring into focus as he turned his head back towards the Devilfish cockpit.

“Their Devilfish is still stationary at Vigilus square.” reported Kor'la Shai'is'ray, his pilot.

“What in the Tau'va are they doing?” Es'ka hissed. Lynu'cha and his squad may not have a working radio, but from that distance they must surely have heard the commotion. Had they decided to move in on foot for some reason?

“Surveillance feed?” he asked.

“Negative, Shas'ui. Cameras all over the city have been going down.”

Es'ka cursed under his breath. That had to be people colluding with the dissidents. These Gue'la – offer them mercy and enlightenment and they reward you with treachery. Es'ka would have preferred sterner measures than the Water caste's current hearts-and-minds policy, and he had considered the induction of Gue'vesa into the Shas'kar'tyr to be a bad idea from the start. But it was in the nature of the Fire caste to be more blunt and direct, and he knew that the Aun in their infinite wisdom could only have picked the best way of furthering the Greater Good. And ironically, Es'ka thought as he pulled on his backswept grey helmet, it might be Lynu'cha's team of human auxiliaries that were their salvation now.

That hope was shattered exactly forty rai'kan later when Lynu'cha's Devilfish came into view round the corner of a backstreet.

“No...” whispered Es'ka as he dropped from the Devilfish ramp, his pulse rifle immediately in his hands with the safety off as he saw Kor'la Anuk'ta hanging from the top hatch, her fragile body slumped pitifully across the vehicle's hull.

“Watch for an ambush!” he shouted back to his team. Almost as soon as he had said it he heard footsteps approaching from behind the derelict transport. He spun towards them, his finger tensing on the trigger, only it was not insurgents but Edmund and Lynu'cha who emerged from the side street.

“Shas'la!” Es'ka exclaimed, still speaking in Tau, “Gue'vesa'ui! What happened here?”

******

The sniper watched silently from the top floor of a tall building, three paces back from the open window. Over a mile away from the church, but only a street away from Lynu'cha's abandoned Devilfish, he had a perfect view of the battle unfolding at Faradn's church. He ignored Es'ka's transport as it swept by and stopped – there was no chance of the Tau seeing him, and he was focussed on the battle developing through the lens of his sophisticated scope. He thought he had set events back on the proper path with the destruction of Lynu'cha's drone courier, but now the Tau were rushing towards Aotoris district and the outcome hung in the balance once more. Why were the insurgents not storming the church yet? And where were the primary targets, the ones upon whom the very future of the planet hinged? All three had to die if his masters' plan was to be preserved. Once again, the sniper found himself maligning the cat's paws upon whom the plan hinged.

There! The insurgents were finally moving, and there, in amongst them, was one of the primary targets! The sniper had to make a snap judgement, and he took it. He tightened his rifle against his shoulder.

The laser bolt that leapt from the fluted barrel was calibrated to a wavelength outside the visible spectrum for maximum stealth, but Edmund, Lynu'cha and Es'ka all looked up as the microsecond burst ionised the air above their heads with an audible crack. In the open street outside Faradn's church, Alex was knocked sideways as Decia fell into him, her blade slipping from her hand to go spinning across the road. The laser shot had burned a fist-sized hole through the assassin's left shoulder and down into her heart.

Back in the apartment, the sniper cursed.

******

Edmund's eyes looked at the window from where the shot came from.

"Shas'ui, everything will be explained later. But I do believe the greatest threat to this planet's future is nearby."

He grabbed a pulse carbine from the Devilfish and sprinted into the building.

"Your true enemy is nearby." He said to Lynu'cha as he passed his former team leader. Edmund kicked open the door and quickly scanned the room before beginning to make his way up. He would find out the truth, and he would destroy whoever this was.

Lynu'cha didn't know what Edmund was talking about, but he had heard the shot and he too grabbed a pulse carbine as Es'ka instinctively ducked behind his vehicle while he tried to work out where the shot had come from. The burst cannon under the nose of the Devilfish swung hard left as the pilot inside turned his head towards the sudden noise.

“Get us up, Kor'la!” Es'ka barked. Then he felt Lynu'cha seize his shoulder-pad.

“Shas'ui.” the battered fire warrior hissed urgently, “Did you receive the message I sent with Kor'vesa 2724?”

“What message?” Es'ka snapped back, his bionic eye whirring as he scanned left and right across the upper floors of the nearest buildings. Lynu'cha's heart sank. Edmund had put doubt in his mind back at the Vanifax water plant, and he had feared that the human had been right when he first saw the paltry garrison placed outside the Aotoris chapel. At first he had held out hope that this was some form of Kauyon ambush and that Fire Spider and his team were merely bait for a much larger force, but as the attack began and that larger force failed to materialise, he had begun to realise that something or someone had stopped his drone carrying its vital message to HQ. Now it was confirmed. Exactly how it had happened didn't matter now. Hopefully it wasn't already too late to make a difference.

“Your Kor'la needs to transmit this to all units immediately.” said Lynu'cha, “The church under attack is that of the Cult Pacifica, who are a movement dedicated to promoting peaceful cooperation with the Greater Good. It is vital to our integration efforts that they survive. The dissidents are attacking them because they cling to the old beliefs that alliance with other species is anathema. The dissidents have established a base at Vanifax water treatment plant with the collaboration of one of their so-called tech priests. They are using the sewers to move around, and they have approximately 40 armed men attacking the chapel. They are well equipped with lasguns, missile launchers and fusion weapons, and are bunkered mainly in the upper floors of the terrace opposite the chapel.”

For a moment Es'ka was shocked into silence. Then he said: “Did you get all of that, Kor'la?”

“Affirmitive, Shas'ui.” replied Shai'is'ray over the intercom built into the bionic that had replaced Es'ka's ear, “Transmitting now.”

“Tau'va...” Es'ka exclaimed quietly.

“One more thing, Shas'ui.” Lynu'cha went on gravely. The Shas'la was clearly wrestling with his thoughts, trying to decide whether what he was about to say was truly in the interest of the Greater Good or not. He made his decision, and spoke. “Gue'vesa'ui Bentu'Cea, otherwise known as Edmund Rourke, is a member of the human order known as the Inquisition. At the conclusion of this crisis, he must be arrested and incarcerated as a threat to the Greater Good.”

“Why not now?” Es'ka asked when he had recovered his voice from this second bombshell.

“Because not all the events of today add up, and he may be right about this 'true enemy'.” Lynu'cha broke cover from behind the Devilfish as it began to rise into the air, generating a heat-haze shimmer with its downwash. “Protect the Pacifica!” he shouted over his shoulder as he took off at a crouching run after Edmund.

******

Without looking at the pilot bleeding on the floor Victor started to don the vacated stealthsuit. He knew fitting into the armour would be difficult. The boots would be all but useless, designed for the legs of the xeno scum he now served. The gloves would also be tough to use, designed for four fingers instead of five. No matter he thought, this was his chance to become the artist, and make those who had abandoned him suffer.

Victor started with his legs. He knew he would need to detach the boots - looking at the ankle joints he grabbed his newly-aquired lasrifle and fired point-blank into them. With just a few shots the hoof-shaped boots fell away. The fit was awkward at best, and he knew his balance and movement would be limited. With his legs fully insidethe suit, Victor put his own boots back on and sighed - the disparity between the boots and armour was unmistakable and the lack of aesthetics turned his stomach. The artist’s flaw he thought. Next came the arms; this was not so bad, though as he expected the gloves had no space for all of his fingers, and his pinky finger was stuffed in with the next finger over - already they were beginning to cramp. All that was left now was to close the chest plate up and power the suit up.

Mimicking the sun going down and the stars and moons not revealing themselves, Victor stood in darkness. He was on the verge of panic when his head began to ache and suddenly he knew what true fear was. Then a voice spoke to him once again.

“Fear not my chosen. All will be clear.”

Then without warning power surged through the suit and Victor could see the world around him once more. The heads up display came to life, and the confusing welter of symbolsthreatened to overwhelm him. Victor blinked his eyes rapidly for a few seconds, and the Tau markings started to make sense to him. Within a few more seconds he was able to find the trigger for the burst cannon. Here was an advantage the Imperial scum didn’t have, he thought.

Flipping the switch to power up the burst cannon, Victor turned to find a good place of ambush. As he turned he saw his reflection in the stained glass around him. So much for stealth, but with subtlety no longer a choice he surged forwards towards the remaining stealth suits, ensuring that power to the burst cannon was ready.

“Let us paint the streets red with their blood!” Victor called out over the suit’s radio as he smashed through one of the side windows, an unseen smile spread wide across his face.

******

Alex lay there on the asphalt road, Decia lying over the top of him.

"Oh God-Emperor no... I am sorry Decia but you are with Him now."

He slowly put her aside and raised his rifle, firing rounds into the location he believed the shot had came from.

"You bastard! I will get you soon!" he cried as he regained his footing and double timed it to the church. He took cover against the concrete column next to the main door as he began to fire at the xeno-loving frakkers, Tau soldiers and human civilians both. He un-clipped a couple of frag grenades and pulled the pins.

"Grenades out!" He yelled as he leaned over and tossed them into the room.

Behind the rapidly splintering door, Shas'vre Fire Spider saw the deadly ovoids bounce over the threshold. He caught one and managed to hurl it back through the door into the hurricane of lasfire outside, but the second skittered away into the nave of the church, directly where the parishioners were cowering. Fire Spider felt a sick rush of adrenaline as he realised what was about to happen, and that there was nothing he could do.

One of the humans acted where he could not. Throwing his teenage son aside, a man in a blue robe dived on top of the grenade. A moment later it exploded and the man convulsed, his blue robe turning instantly red. The teenager stared in shock for a moment, then screamed.

Alexander tossed another couple of grenades through the main entrance, as he moved to the other side of the doors frame and crouched next to a fellow guardsmen. It was Gaius, the preacher-turned-soldier who had executed Pike and Blerr. He was spitting one of the litanies of hate through his teeth as he took cover with Alex to reload his lasgun. Alex withdrew a small note and placed it in an envelope, which he had grabbed from inside of the house.

"Soldier, do this for me. If I don't make it give this to Elisabeth Marrick, I want her to know how I feel."

Gaius stopped haranguing the Emperor to help him smite the alien to look at Alex in surprise.

“Is this really the time, sir?” he shouted. But he took the note.

Alex leaned over and fired several shots down range as another rocket salvo impacted into the structure. He had emptied the entire magazine and began swapping it out for a fresh one. Emperor protect me, he thought as he pulled out his remaining Bright grenade and tossed it up and down in his hand.

"Get ready for breaching! Get that melta gun up here."

Looking out through the blown-out glass onto the street, Victor saw more insurgents burst from the doors of the building across from the church, taking advantage of the lack of return fire. Not waiting for orders he squeezed the trigger ofhis new burst cannon, sending certain death down range. The first three soldiers jerked backwards and flopped to the ground mere meters from the door. Then Victor noticed a dark figure crouching by the main door. Thanks to the suit’s image enhancement, Victor was able to identify him. Alexander Jalousies.

“That bastard is mine.” he growled as he leapt out into the street.

Alexander had seen the shadow before he had heard the battlesuit land, its heavy legs creating a small impact creator.

“Contact, open fire!”

Alexander put away his bright grenade and barrel rolled, placing his lasgun to his shoulder and switching it to fully automatic as he came up. He held down the trigger and watched the energy beams impact against the suit. He could have gasped when he realized it was having no effect, and he slid in another magazine and dived behind the nearest piece of cover he could find.

“Emperor’s mercy, where’s that melta crew!”

Beside him Gaius swore aloud as Victor found a new vantage point, and another scythe-like burst from a new angle poleaxed another rebel off her feet. Some of the rebels backpedalled furiously, while the well-trained PDF veterans threw themselves forward onto the road or fired back at the new aggressor who had just thrown himself through one of the church windows. There were shouts and screams and curses, but no-one was more surprised than Shas'vre Fire Spider.

“Shas'ui!?” he shouted as the previously-immobile battlesuit reentered the fray. Then he saw the human feet sticking out almost comically from the legs of the armour. “Gue'vesa!?”

But he knew he had no time to wonder, nor to be angry at the dishonour Victor was doing to his bond-brother. Right now Victor was an ally, he was out in the open, and he needed cover. Fire Spider swung his armoured bulk fearlessly round the doorframe and sent a jet of fire across the street from the flamethrower on his other arm. Humans shrieked, recoiling from the heat of the barbaric weapon. Almost immediately a torrent of fire slammed into the Tau from the rebels up in the terrace, setting warning lights blinking all over his HUD. The emblem of a flame-wreathed arachnid on his chest was obliterated as a direct hit cracked his breastplate, and he fell back. But for a few seconds, he had drawn all of the rebels' fire onto himself. For a few seconds, Victor Sorid was free to fight.

For a few seconds, it was just him and Alexander Jalousies.

******

The hard-faced PDF veteran who had been entrusted with the squad melta gun gritted her teeth as she skidded forward on her knees and tried to draw a clear line of fire through her comrades as they darted forward. As they all went to ground from Victor's unexpected attack she gained a clear shot, and she zeroed in on the Tau leader leaning round the door to send a jet of fire into the street to her left. Her heart hammering in her chest, the melta-gunner pulled the trigger. But even as the weapon emitted its deadly trademark hiss, lasfire battered the Shas'vre backwards out of sight. Her shot instead struck the church doors, which burst into flame and then blew apart in a shower of charcoal.

“Go! Go! Go!” the melta-gunner heard sergeant Rana yelling from behind her. “Kill the bastards!”

The sergeant was on one knee, his lasgun tight into his shoulder as he drew a bead on the remaining battlesuit out in the open. Hiero Rana was in his element now. In combat was where he belonged. He fought to reclaim what he had lost; he fought for Valkora, for the Emperor and for his beloved colonel Drake, but most of all he fought because there was nothing else he did better. Underneath his affable exterior he had the quality of a born soldier, and that was the ability to hate. He hated the Tau who had usurped his world, he hated the traitors who wanted to throw in their lot with the heathen aliens, and he hated the so-called Gue'vesa who had killed so many of his boys, including the two youngsters on Soren's team who had barely been out of their teens. He hated the human traitor he was about to shoot, and he knew it was a human because of the booted feet protruding from the bottom of the battlesuit. He aimed for them, looking for a hit that would blow off one of the exposed, vulnerable feet and leave the armoured giant crippled and helpless. His finger was just tensing on the trigger when some unseen force wrenched his shoulder backwards with dislocating force. Hiero screamed in pain, his lasgun discharging harmlessly into the air. In the entrance arch of the church, framed by a halo of fire from the destroyed doors, stood a white-robed figure.

“No!” snarled Joshua Faradn of the Cult Pacifica.

Up in the terraced houses with Drake and Novick, Septima lurched forward. The one remaining death cultist seemed to almost forget her duty of guarding the astropath as she caught sight of the xenophile psyker.

“Kill him!” she shrieked, “Kill him!”

******

Edmund kicked open the door and quickly scanned the room before beginning to make his way up, Lynu'cha close behind him. He would find out the truth, and he would destroy this hidden menace that he suspected had been plaguing them since the start. Two floors above, just as he was about to line up his second shot, the sniper tensed as he heard footsteps pounding up the stairs behind him. He cursed under his breath and spun round in a swirl of robes, back into the bedroom where the two humans and their young daughter lay unconscious on the floor. They had lived in this flat, which he had chosen as his vantage point, and so he had had to neutralise them. The three humans were merely unconscious because the sniper cared little for them – too little to shed their blood unnecessarily when he had such an important mission to perform, a mission that was quickly crashing down around his ears. Had the family seen his face, then it would have been a different and bloodier story.

That was irrelevant right now. His long-barrelled rifle cradled in his hands, the sniper darted for the next room, his light feet making no sound at all on the wooden floor. He was planning to drop from the window on the blind side of the building and shimmy down before the intruders coming up from below could figure out where he had gone, but that plan was ruined in the same moment that he was half deafened by the sudden noise of Es'ka's Devilfish taking off. Instantly the sniper knew that the skimmer would now be able to cover the whole street with its burst cannon. Even with his preternatural stealth, the Devilfish would see him, and from its elevated vantage point it would blast him off the side of the building like a spider from its web. He had to go down. He spun round again and ran for the stairwell.

If the sniper hadn't been half-deafened by the roar of Es'ka's vehicle, he might have realised that Edmund was now only half a staircase below him. He spotted the inquisitor too late out of the corner of his eye as he stepped out onto the landing. Edmund fired, in a burst of star-bright plasma. The sniper, swinging round with impossible speed, fired too, his fluted rifle discharging from the hip. Edmund was thrown back against the corner of the stairwell, a smoking hole in his carapace breastplate and a deep laser wound in the flesh beneath. The sniper tumbled back into the apartment riddled with pulse fire, his dark cloak in tatters.

"Damn." Edmund grunted in response to the hit. The guy was good, and it was another reason why he needed his gear. He briefly viewed the wound before continuing; he'd had wounds of similar type before, but now, being in a battlefield on a planet where he was likely to be arrested shortly, was going to make things difficult. So Edmund changed his tactics, and he attacked with his mind. The wounding should have helped, but the Inquisitor's own wounds would be a hindrance as well. He clamped down on his opponents mind.

"Lynu'cha get this bastard!"

To Edmund's surprise, his attempts to freeze his opponent in place came up against the psychic equivalent of a brick wall. If the sniper wasn't himself a psyker, then he must have incredibly focused willpower. Beneath the psyker's mental shield Edmund could sense a cold, calm fury, shot through with the pain of his wounds. He could tell that he had hurt his opponent badly in his initial volley, and that the sniper was running on adrenaline and willpower alone. Perhaps that was why he made no counterattack as Edmund's psychic claws rebounded off his mind.

Lynu'cha, oblivious to the ongoing mental duel, came storming up the stairs towards the landing. As he reached the top there was the high-pitched seeeeeeeeeeeeeeew of some exotic weapon discharge, and the wall next to him exploded with splinters. Lynu'cha half-dived, half-fell backwards as dozens of narrow cuts raked through the wall at chest height, and a line of identical cuts punched themselves in the opposite wall. It was as if a score of invisible blades had sliced through both walls without stopping, and it was only by a miracle that Lynu'cha himself escaped injury. He managed to avoid tumbling down the stairs into Edmund by catching himself on the handrail, and as he did so Edmund saw a flash of silver embedded in the fire warrior's heavy left shoulder-guard, the one that had been facing the sniper's apartment when he fired blindly through the wall.

The flash was from a disc of iridescent metal that had almost completely buried itself in the thick armour before being stopped. Its diameter was about the length of Edmund's finger, and it shimmered weirdly as it caught the light. The edge of the angular shoulder pad was split open where a second such disc had caught it a glancing blow, slicing almost completely through the thinner edge of the armour before being deflected away. Lynu'cha himself had not even noticed the damage – he was busy ramming a photon grenade into the chamber of his new carbine's underslung launcher. In the apartment above Edmund sensed a red lance of pain shoot through his opponent's mind, which was followed by a bumping and scraping noise, as if the sniper was trying to drag himself backwards on one elbow to get away.

******

Alexander recovered and sat with his back against the low-lying wall he had dived behind. He breathed heavily and sighed. This isn't fair. He propped himself up and checked his weapon.

"You know Tau, this is a foolhardy gesture. Have you ever heard of the uprising of Nimbosa? That's where the Vostroyan IX under Graf Toshenko were wiped out defending the factory city of Polia from your kind, and that act inspired the populace to resist the Tau's culture of 'the Greater Good' and fight and die to the last man. You may kill us, but we will die as martyrs! The loyal citizens will join our cause and the disloyal among them will join us under the fear of being prosecuted."

Alexander turned over and placed himself on one knee. He placed his hand onto the wall as he levelled his lasgun in the other hand. He retrained his sights onto his target, and noticed something different about this suit. It had human feet. His hesitation earned him a burst of pulse fire in his direction and Alexander ducked back behind cover, his mind racing. The only human pilot he knew of was Victor, but he had been killed in cold blood right in front of him.

"Victor? Is that you...you frakking traitor! How did you survive?" He pondered for a moment and assessed the situation. "Did do know, Victor? During my time infiltrating your little organization, you were going to be one of my first recommendations! Forced to join the Greater Good or face prosecution. I thought you’d jump at the chance to serve the Emperor again! But I see now you have made your decision."

Alexander sat behind his cover, cowering as the burst cannon rounds tore through the wall, splinters of rock and mortar shooting out at lethal velocity. He dived flat and hit the ground hard to avoid the shrapnel, then continued to crawl along under the rapidly-diminishing protection of the crumbling wall.

Emperor save me, how am I to fight a battle suit? He lay there perfectly still, thinking of his next move, and moved his hand across the dirt as he felt a rock move. He dug it out from its resting place and threw it to the other side of the wall. As Victor’s fire shifted to follow the sound, Alexander checked and double checked his lasgun and began counting to three.

One...Two...Three!

He regained his footing and readied his weapon, switching the firing mechanism back to full auto as he hammered in the trigger, each round piercing the air with a faint hiss. The lasrounds found their mark but to Alexander’s amazement they still seemed to have no effect. He quickly unclipped a grenade from his belt and tossed it at Victor’s feet. "Say goodnight traitor!"

The weight of fire moved back over to Alexander as soon as he stood up.

"Frak, frak, frak!" Alexander swore as he dived back to the floor. He waited for the inevitable bang to mark his success, but was only rewarded with the sound of thruster packs instead.

What now? He looked up as the grenade detonated, and watched as Victor jumped clear, landing with a thud next to Alexander's position. The force was enough to toss Alexander aside and he found himself now out of reach of his primary weapon. He kicked his legs, trying to get some distance between himself and Victor if only to delay the inevitable, as the battlesuit’s heavy legs slowly caught up to him.

"Why Victor, why betray the Emperor!" Alexander cried as he fumbled for his autopistol. He had unholstered it and lined up his sights to meet the suit’s protective visor just as Victor, now looming directly above him, brought the suit’s right leg crashing down on Alex's gullet. Alexander couldn't help but let out a strangled scream of pain. He watched almost helplessly as Victor levelled his burst cannon. Alexander fired his autopistol off in protest, but each round merely shimmered and fell against the armoured suit’s breastplate, giving no noticeable effect. He lowered his pistol and sighed.

"Is this how it all ends?"

Then he remembered Victor had removed the suit’s armoured boots. With renewed hope he brought the pistol into range of Victor’s left foot and fired the last few rounds. The bullets penetrated Victor’s boot and came whizzing out the other side. A distorted cry came from within the battlesuit as Victor lost his footing. Alex grabbed hold of his assailant and threw him to the floor, unsheathing his power maul which he had liberated from the old Arbites armoury.

"For the Emperor, traitor."

The crackling energies burst forth as he activated the weapon, wrenching off Victor’s helmet and bringing the blunt instrument crashing down on Victor’s face multiple times.

CHAPTER 12

“Time to intercept 6 raik'or, Shas'el.”

Shas'el Val'roth turned towards his Kor'ui pilot and nodded his head. It was a proud head unscarred by physical damage but still bearing testament to 14 years of war in every line and crease that furrowed his brow and narrowed the corners of his deep blue eyes. His hair was shaved, the Shas'el forgoing the ornamental scalp-lock he had earned the right to wear in favour of reflecting the lesser warriors that he commanded. Despite his rank Val'roth was a humble and unassuming Tau, his hands mere instruments through which the will of the Greater Good was enacted.

“Assault pattern Korar.” the Shas'el answered his pilot softly.

Pattern Korar was one of the Killing Blow strategies. Val'roth had received the relayed message from Es'ka, and from the Shas'ui's in-depth description of the rebels' position and numbers, it seemed as if Fire Spider and the Pacifica had no time for anything more subtle.

“Our backup?” he added as the Kor'ui danced his long fingers over the controls, relaying the command to the other fire warriors aboard the Manta.

“Shas'ui Es'ka is delayed engaging a dissident sniper, Shas'la Lynu'cha is still not responding.”

Val'roth merely shrugged. “We cannot wait.”

“No, Shas'el.” the pilot agreed, “5 raik'or to intercept.”

Val'roth nodded again, and turned on his heel towards the rear of the Manta, making his way down the gantry with unhurried steps. Passing between his silent fire warriors he headed towards an empty battlesuit standing against the inner hull, locked in place by thick metal bars. Even deactivated it was an impressive sight; angular, ominous, dominating the crowded passenger compartment.

******

“Kill him!” Septima shouted again as Victor went down to Alex's hand and the last barrier between the rebels and Faradn was removed.

NO.

It wasn't a word. It wasn't even subvocal. Everyone in the command team, where Kade was still being held prisoner, felt it in their bones like an electric charge. The non-word had come from the young psyker.

STOP.

Kade was perfectly calm, almost saintly, as he moved towards the death cultist. Blood was pouring from his eyes and ears as the psychic trauma of being so near to the battle between Faradhn and the Inquisitor did its work. Something…something dangerous was slowly unlocking itself in his mind, like the turning of a cog swinging open a previously safe vault door. The battle between Faradhn and Edmund had unlocked it.

For Kade's part, he could only look on in horror, a prisoner of his own body as it seemed to act on autopilot. He watched as he snatched a lasrifle from a bodyguard rooted to the spot. Everything moved like treacle as he expertly smashed the weapon into the death cultist’s face, sending her tumbling to the floor.

I CAN SEE YOUR CRIMES. THE AGONY AND PAIN. THE WAY YOU REVEL IN DEATH.

The blow had taken Septima completely by surprise. She sensed rather than heard her long blade clatter to the floor beside her, but even as she instinctively reached to retrieve it and defend herself Kade pressed the lasrifle into her face.

Time seemed to stop. Polarised into a single point, the muzzle of the gun at her forehead. The death cultist wasn't afraid, only angry – furious that the Master of Mankind would allow her time to end before she could fulfil her duty. Ended by a psyker.

Around her Drake's men were seizing violently, blood running down their faces in thick rivulets. And then, abruptly, the anger melted away as she looked up at the traitor, static arcing around his head, his face streaked in blood. He was already looking past her into the street below. To his next target perhaps.

Yes, a psyker. A wretched creature loathed by the Master of Mankind. And he still did His work regardless!

Septima opened her mouth to laugh, just as Kade pulled the trigger. She flopped to the ground with a spasm and a smell of burnt meat. Kade was fighting it, fighting it so hard - he could hear the astropath hammering on his mind, trying to get him to stop, to listen to him, to anything. To choose the Imperium as his mind fizzed and burned.

******

Edmund pulled himself up, covering the wound with his hand as he watched the strange rounds tear into Lynu'cha's armour. He only just caught a look at them, and if they were what he thought they may have been, then he was dead wrong about what was going on.

He pulled himself up the stairs towards the fire warrior, stopping at the corner of the door. His mind felt where the sniper was, and Edmund turned into the room, firing a brief burst of pulse carbine rounds before rushing his target. Again there was a high-pitched whine and a second ribbon of discs whickered out. The silver blur raked past Edmund and he felt a white-hot slash of pain as the stream of blades raked along the side of his weapon, slicing two fingers from his bracing hand and gashing his bicep as the discs became fouled in the plates protecting his gun arm.

Edmund's return fire did even more damage. The first shot of the three-round burst hit the flared barrel of the pistol that the sniper was still pointing at him, ripping the weapon in half in mid-burst and stripping half the flesh from the sniper's hand with the resulting explosion. The second round shattered his bent knee and the third punched into his chest, dragging a mist of blood from the exit wound. The sniper collapsed without a sound, tangled in his shadowy cloak.

Ignoring the pain from his own wounds, Edmund dove on top of his enemy, bringing a knife to bear on him, and the sniper was far too badly wounded to resist.

"This can be quick or I can tear out everything I need to know. Your choice." he was saying, just as Kade's psychic opening ran into his mental wards like a hammer. He looked briefly out the window at the battle before turning his eyes back to the sniper. He hadn't even looked at him properly yet.

The sniper's blood was glazed across the carpet, brilliantly red, and was soaking the front of the thin jacket he wore under his cloak. The hood of the cloak had fallen back and Edmund's gaze travelled up the man's slender neck, past the blood-spattered silver chain that hung round it, to an aquiline face with skin that was too pale and features that were too pointed. The sniper had narrow eyes and a thin-lipped mouth that were both contorted in pain. His eyes flew open as Edmund held the knife to his throat with his uninjured hand. They were the same deep black as the wavy hair that fell low over the sniper's forehead and ears, and as soon as he saw them Edmund knew what he was dealing with. The pupils were too big, almost feline, and the intelligence behind them was ice-cold even in the sniper's wounded state. The sniper wasn't a Valkoran. He wasn't even human.

******

Kade shivered and spasmed. He couldn't pick one side. He couldn't. But he could punish the guilty. People like the death cultist, and Alexander.

Alexander...

The command group couldn't stop him. Their eyes rotated in their skulls until he walked out of sight, towards the firefight. He knew he didn't have much time before he burnt up completely.

Alexander...

Drake's command squad fell to their knees, blood streaming from their tear ducts. The astropath, Novick, was in even worse shape, fallen to the floor with his hands over his face.

“KADE!” colonel Drake roared after the rogue psyker, his usual composure temporarily deserting him. He cursed the inquisitor who had made him spare the boy's life. Either Edmund Rourke was a poor judge of character or he was no true servant of the Emperor. Recovering faster than the others, the sandy-haired colonel grabbed a fallen lasgun from the floor and ran to the window, looking left and right for the young psyker. The street outside was chaos. Smoke was rising from the church as fire took hold, and over the snap and crack of lasguns Drake could hear the distant whine of the Tau commander's gunships rushing to respond to the violence. The sound snapped him out of his rage. He couldn't lose control of the situation, not even now. He had to stay in command.

“Septima, get Novick to group Kilo!” he called back over his shoulder, “It's time to hit the HQ.”

There was no response.

“Septima?” He turned, and saw that unlike the others, the death cultist had not regained her feet. The reason became clear when he noticed the neat burn-hole on the right side of her forehead, and the way her wide-set eyes were staring glassily at the ceiling. He swore then.

“You two.” he said to a pair of his PDF veterans who were first to recover from the shock of Kade's attack, “Take astropath Novick to group Kilo. And you,” he turned to his vox operator, who was still cuffing at his eyes and looking down in dismay at the blood that came away on his hand, “Tell them to launch the assault as soon as they arrive. In nomine Imperator.”

Even as he spoke the words, the usually-pious Drake feared that the Emperor was no longer with him. On every side he was beset by heretics and traitors. And then he caught sight of Kade in the street below, stalling Hiero's assault group with his mere presence. He saw untrained volunteers and professional guardsmen alike going into spasms and falling as the psyker passed them. Well here at least was one traitor he could do something about! He raised his borrowed lasgun.

******

Alexander slowly stood, placing his hand over his stomach. Though his carapace armour had withstood most of the impact, he had internal bruising and his stride was showing it. With a small limp he walked over to his lasgun and reached down, picking it up and throwing away the now drained power pack, swapping it out for a fresh one. He slumped back over the wall and threw his backpack in front of him. He moved his hands around in till he found a familiar vial.

"Thank you." he said under his breath as he placed the adrenaline into a injector, "This will keep me going for another few hours."

He rolled up the lower end of his fatigues sleeve and placed the needle into his arm. Immediately he felt the substance take hold and he rejoined the fray. He ran, making his way back onto the street, where he saw guardsmen going into spasms and falling as Kade passed them.

"What the…?"


Near the church, the heretic Faradn was watching Kade in what looked like a mixture of fear and awe.

“Here, brother!” he called desperately, “To me! Back into the church!”

"Psykers." Alex spat, and leveled his lasgun, pointing at Faradn as he drew a line of sight to him. "Under Corilithian Doctrine, 5896/8 I decree the ultimate sanction, it's for your own good! For Emperor and Imperium!"

A blast of psychic force threw off his aim. He whirled to see Kade coming straight for him.

“No!”

At that moment, a thread of red light pulsed down from the window where Drake stood, connecting with Kade's lower back. The young psyker's armour flash-vapourised from the hit, and blood hissed on the red-hot edges of the hole as he began to bleed freely from a deep wound to the kidneys. It was not enough to kill Kade, at least not straight away, but it was enough to drive him to his knees. Still his subconscious, which seemed to have utterly taken over his conscious mind, forced him forward.

Alexander...

Then the spell broke, and all hell broke loose. The rebels unfroze and began shooting again, and the woman with the plasma gun swung her glowing weapon towards Kade and Faradn. Faradn knocked her down with a precise jab of psychic force into both her eyes, but it cost him the chance to defend himself as across the street Hiero raised his lasgun with his good arm and fired. The beam of light seared across the side of the cult leader's face and he staggered back through the burning church doors, screaming. Seeing the second psyker fall, Hiero and his assault squad let out a shout and rushed the church.

******

The sniper had known the risks, but this was not how he had imagined his end. A tumult of emotions flashed through his mind as he looked up at Edmund, far faster than a mere human mind could process. He felt rage, rage at the human who had somehow bested him. He felt shame, because he had failed in his sworn duty to carry out the mission. He felt horror, because of what that failure meant – not just for him, but for this world, and for his own brothers and sisters. Why was this human even here? Why was he not at the fulcrum of events when his part in it was so vital? For the first time in his long life, the sniper found himself cursing the masters he revered, for it had been madness for them to rely on such blind creatures to play their part in the delicate timestream they sought to bring about.

And he felt fear, because he could feel the terrible cold seeping through his arms and his legs, and he knew that he was dying. And that meant that this blind, ignorant human was his only chance to avert the coming disaster. Fighting through the pain, he fired a pulse of telepathy straight into Edmund's mind. It was unpleasant, because it came on a bow-wave of pain that set Edmund's own nerves alight, but after a moment the sensation cleared.

The telepathy took the form of a memory. Edmund watched as the sniper, dressed in a deep blue robe, strode across a hall of pearlescent marble, each step sending threads of silver light snaking out through the translucent floor from the points where his shoes touched the ground. He stopped before a second figure in a fur-trimmed robe marked with strange symbols, who turned to acknowledge him. The other alien had pale hair, which unlike the sniper’s was cut short to reveal tapered ears, and he had a youthful face that seemed at odds with his dark, careworn eyes. The two aliens exchanged strange hand gestures in greeting, and began to converse in a fluid, lilting language where the words seemed to flow together until one was almost indistinguishable from the next. Edmund had no idea what they were saying, but somehow he understood.

The young alien with the old eyes was asking the sniper if he had any reservations about leaving the craftworld alone. The sniper was confident – he had mastered the Path of Wandering long ago, and it had no power over him now, but the skills he had learned there were not forgotten. He merely wished to know how he could serve the craftworld. The other alien nodded in approval, and told him.

Some humans, the second alien said, had potential and strength of will, but their nature meant that most of them had to be kept in a cage for both their own and everyone else's good. The Imperium had long known this; the Tau, in their naiveté, did not. They had given the humans of Valkora too much freedom, and left themselves open to subversion because of it. The humans were planning rebellion, and if successful it could have a spiralling effect on the surrounding systems, whose faith in the Tau Empire's erstwhile invincibility had already been shaken by the Ultramarines' Zeist offensive. With all the effort the sniper's race had put into shaping the Tau into a potential weapon and successor, that could not be allowed. Even worse, the leniency of the Tau had allowed something much deadlier to grow unnoticed in the human population.

The baleful eyes of the feuding Chaos Gods had turned upon Valkora. The second alien and his colleagues had foreseen the rise of the Great Enemy, and the fate lines converged around three key humans. With that the alien seer held up a faceted crystal, within which flickered the images of human faces - determiners whose actions would have the greatest effect on the future. Edmund saw his own face glint briefly in one of the crystal's many facets, alongside the faces of Kade, Hiero, Alexander, and even Shas'la Lynu'cha. With a psychic nudge the alien seer caused three faces to jump to prominence, hovering within the largest segments of the crystal. From left to right they showed Septima, Decia and Joshua Faradn.

These were the three around whom the fate lines withered, the seer explained, and so these were the three who had to die. Knowingly or not, they served the cause of the Great Enemy. Two of them had joined or infiltrated the rebels, and the third was working openly in the city of Tasckird. Luckily the human rebels had already marked Faradn as an enemy. If all went well then the rebels would destroy Faradn, and then be destroyed in turn by the Tau. But the sniper had to ensure that the tainted three died, and that the Tau were there to witness it. The Tau had seen the true horrors of the Warp on Medusa V; now they needed to understand what it could do to some of their client races. The lesson was as important as their continued survival.

The sniper understood the logic of letting the two enemies of his craftworld destroy each other, for it would avert the shedding of more precious blood. But he had reservations about the ones the plan hinged on - the loyalist Imperials, and the lesser determiners who all seemed to be part of the same Gue'vesa unit. That was where he came in, the seer assured him. If necessary, he must set events back on the proper path.

And the sniper had tried. He had ensured Elisabeth's capture by shooting out the wheel of her crude vehicle, thereby providing a source that would lead the Gue'vesa right to the rebels. When the fool Lynu'cha had tried to call in additional protection for Faradn, the sniper had destroyed his messenger drone, so that when the time came and the rebels attacked no-one would be able to help the Pacifica leader. And the lesser determiners had indeed met the rebels, if not exactly in the way the sniper had intended. But by the death cultists' guile or the Gue'vesa's own stupidity they had failed to divine the threat presented by the two women. When the rebel attack had come and the sniper had seen the death cultists still among them, he had taken matters into his own hands once again. It had proved one time too many. The sniper knew that he might no longer be able to prevent the human rebellion, but he would settle for the arresting of the greater threat. The plans of the Great Enemy, whatever they were, had to be stopped.

This imperative was the last coherent thought that the sniper telepathically hammered into Edmund's mind. After that the thoughts became muddled, and Edmund caught flashes of seemingly random, unrelated images. One was a vision of a small knot of Eldar - an older couple with arms entwined, and a younger male and female - all of whom bore a striking facial similarity to the sniper. Their haunting faces offered small smiles to Edmund as the link broke and the sniper fell back dead against the bloodstained carpet.

Edmund weakly picked himself up the Eldar, the vision he had just received exploding in his head. Everything - his suspicions of Faradn, the situation, Eldar, Tau. The Ordos. Why hadn't he seen any of this in his own divining? Edmund cursed himself for his own stupidity; his injuries were obviously starting to take their toll. He searched the Eldar for his spirit stone and removed it from the body. He'd have to ensure it made it's way home.

He stood up straight, looking at Lynu'cha.

"Faradn. Those two assassins. For the sake of both of our species they must die. Beings far beyond your species’ comprehension have turned their eyes upon this world. If they are able to succeed then you will bear witness to something far, far beyond what was seen on Medusa V. You cannot allow this to happen, for even I will be unable to hold back what is likely to come. The longer you wait the sooner they shall come and destroy and enslave everything. They. Must. Die."

Edmund paused a second as he picked the two fingers off of the ground. They could be repaired later. "Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to get my stuff, and return as quickly as I can."

And in an instant he vanished, briefly opening a pathway through the Warp to where he had left his equipment in wait. Even to a trained psyker such a move was insanely dangerous, and he would have never have attempted it had the situation been less dire. That was why he had tried to get Drake’s men to recover his equipment for him first.

He stood over the box and opened it, applying brief first aid to stabilize his wounds, and placing the two fingers in a cryo-storage compartment. Next he donned his armour, a custom piece made from scraps of Eldar armour, Necrontyr living metal, and the best of Imperial technology. He quickly added his webbing and assorted combat gear, before reaching for his robes. He tossed the black and red cloak around him, and the combination of Imperial and Eldar runic symbols began to glow softlyin the proximity of theirold master, resonating with his ambient psychic force. Edmund placed his stub pistol inside its holster and grabbed Illyria, his force sword. Finally he grabbed an odd little gem from the bottom of the box and placed it inside a pouch.

His arming complete, Edmund again closed his eyes, and reappeared before the fire warrior who had so recently been his squad leader.

"I hope you've sent the word out. I am not here in the service of any faction today, nor was I ever intending so. Do not judge me by the badge of office I wear, Shas'la. What I do now is for the good of all parties. Experience has taught me to place some trust in the visions of the Eldar, and I've had suspicions of that man Faradn since we met him. Anyone or anything in between us and him should be considered an enemy, Tau or human. We cannot let this happen. Are you with me, Lynu'cha?".

******

Alexander looked to Kade as the psyker was brought to his knees. Without a scream or yelp he began to rise - as if someone, something was drawing him forward. Alexander took his free hand from the rifle’s undergrip and withdrew his autopistol, pointing it at Kade as he stumbled and fell once again.

"Snap out of it boy! Fight it! Whatever it is. beat it back!"

Though Alexander had a true distaste of psykers, he still wanted to save the boy. A lad still in his teens, susceptible to the belief of the Greater Good. However if he so much as felt Kade touch his mind he would pull the trigger, banishing him and whatever had possessed him back into the Warp.

******

Kade didn't hear him. He tumbled forwards, no sound. The battle rushed away from him as the pavement rushed to meet him. He didn't even feel the impact.

As he stared into the distance, he heard Alexander shouting at him. Bastard, he thought. Didn't even get to finish him off…

A pair of booted feet where walking towards him across the pockmarked roadway. He realised with a kind of dull surprise that they where his. A face ducked into his line of site as he continued to stare forward. It was also his.

Oh Throne, I'm dead aren't I?

Not Quite. The face stared into his eyes. His face smiled. But you don't have long. I can give you a little longer. Enough time to kill Alexander. Then in return you kill Faradn for me.

Daemon! Kade gasped in belated realisation. The face looked hurt. His face. His Face.

Well, obviously that's what I am. But you're in no position to turn me down. I COULD just take what I wanted, but I think you'd much rather savour these last few minutes, wouldn't you?

Not-Kade crouched down next to his head, casually surveying the scene. Time seemed to have slowed to a treacle crawl. Dimly, Kade was aware that Alexander was pointing an autopistol at him.

Deal. Lets do this. Frak the Imperium, frak the Tau too. Lets kill everyone.

That’s the spirit! said the voice, not his voice but his voice, from the unmoving face that was not his face. It began to split and distort, stretching into something so utterly monstrous that it tore Kade apart.

There may be some discomfort, but you'll learn to love it. In the end.

The slow time ended. He felt fine, better than fine.

Alexander was still pointing that damn gun in his face.

Remember the deal.

His hand moved. It grasped Alexander.

"Point that gun somewhere else."

The autopistol suddenly snapped away from his head as it fired. The bullet hung in midair, impossibly, melting until it dissolved into a harmless spray of brass and lead gobbets.

Thanks.

Don't mention it.

Alexander watched suspensefully as the round disintegrated, dematerialized and fell to the floor. He adjusted his aim and began to pull the trigger a second time. But to Alex's dismay he couldn't. It was as if his nerves were cut.

"What have you done to me!?" he stammered.

"In fact,” Kade went on indifferently, “Just shoot yourself and do everyone a favour."

Alexander's arm twisted round until the gun was pointing at his temple. He was struggling not to pull the trigger, struggling not to empty his brainpan across the road. It was just a matter of time until either he died, or he tried to cut of his rebelling right arm. That was revenge enough for Kade.

Right. Now Faradn. And the uppity bitch riding him.

"No!"Alexander shouted as Kade began to walk away. He stood there motionless as his arm began to move towards his head. He fought against it, his brain told him to stop, but the commands were lost or silenced by the daemonic powers of the Warp. He couldn't stop it - the power was too great, and he felt the barrel of the pistol pushing up against his helmet.

"No! Kade, please, no! Not like this, not like this, please Kade stop this madness, fight it please!"

He dropped his lasrifle and attempted to use his free hand to pull away the weapon. It was a struggle, a battle against his own body. He tried to drop the pistol, Oh for the love of the Emperor he was trying. His hands were wrestling with each other for the weapon.

"Gaius, please read a litany and dispel this evil! Emperor's mercy, help me!"

The preacher-soldier looked on in horror, his mind going blank for a moment as he tried to remember the words.

"Immortal Emperor!" he shouted at last, "Holy master of mankind, who delivers the righteous and consigns the traitor and the heretic to the flames of the Warp, snatch from ruination and from the clutches of the noonday devil this human being made in your image and likeness! Strike terror, Lord Imperator, into the beast now laying waste your vineyard! Let your mighty hand cast this blasphemy out of your servant, Alexander Jalousies, so it may no longer hold captive what is yours! For as the Emperor is our light, so are we the light of the Emperor! In nomine Imperator, diabolus daemonica exorcism!"

With that final invocation, the monstrous pressure on Alexander's arm abruptly lifted. The shock of his muscles suddenly responding to the orders his mind had been screaming made him spasm violently, his arm flying out and the gun discharging with a loud bang as his finger jerked on the trigger. Gaius gaped at him, one eye rolled grotesquely back into its socket as he dropped his lasgun and put one hand to the bloody hole in his cheek. He collapsed abruptly a moment later, dead before he hit the floor.

******

The scene inside the church was horrific. The parishioners were crushed together as they recoiled from the rebels, some trying to shield friends and relatives with their own bodies, some climbing over each other and trampling them underfoot as they tried to get away. Hiero's men fired into the hysterical crowd without selection or care. Those that managed to claw their way to the back door were cut in half from all directions by the remains of sergeant Farahani's squad. They screamed as they died. One of the rebels was crying; another had turned his head away and had his eyes screwed shut as he fired blindly into the crowd. Even Farahani himself had a look of numb horror on his face as he watched man after man and woman after woman run into his squad's gunsights, each to be butchered in turn.

The only one who seemed unaffected was sergeant Hiero Rana, who wore a look of grim determination as he strode across the burning church towards Joshua Faradn. The cult leader had fallen to his knees in the middle of the nave, and the blood that had been glazed across the stone was sinking into the edges of his white robe, turning it red. He had one hand clamped over his burned face and he was trembling in shock, in too much pain to use his powers.

A second figure in white intercepted Hiero before he could reach his target. It was Mira, her dark hair flying about her face in a disordered mess as she placed herself in front of Faradn and held out her arms to shield him from Hiero's lasgun.

"Get out of the way." Hiero told her. Mira shook her head, defiant tears running down her face.
Hiero shot her twice through the chest. As she slumped, he turned the gun on Faradn.

"Please..." the cult leader whispered.

"Lie to me, traitor." Hiero growled, his finger already tensing on the trigger, "Tell me you're not the heretic I think you are."

"I'm not." Faradn gasped. Then his demeanor changed. He stopped trembling, and his voice became steady. The Pacifica preacher rose to his feet, lowering his hand from his ruined face. Beneath the blackened skin and charred muscle was another face entirely.

"I'm far worse." he told the horrified Hiero.

The sergeant belatedly unfroze and swung his gun back up to point at the abomination before him, just as Kade limped into the church behind him. As Hiero lined up his shot, Kade snapped his arm round and made him drop his rifle in a clatter. Hiero's good arm went completely numb, then his legs went out from under him as they too went dead. Others in his squad went into convulsions or began to vomit blood.

Kade could see Someone behind Faradn. Someone not there.

******

It, for the thing inhabiting Joshua Faradn's body could not accurately be termed "she", was annoyed. Not in a state of rage, but most definitely aggrieved. If it had been allowed to keep up its facade for just a few more minutes, then the Tau enforcers would have arrived to end this ridiculous rebellion, and elevate Faradn - the victim, the preacher of progress - into the public eye. It had had such plans for the future of its little cult, but instead its true face had been revealed too early, before its followers were ready for it. It glared angrily at the second meat-puppet that was strolling across the blood-slick church towards it, ignoring the mortals who cowered and convulsed in its wake.

"So much scheming." the other hissed, with a tone of condescending amusement that made the first daemon even more angry. "So much dishonourable subterfuge. The Tau trying to win over the humans by bread and circuses, this doomed resistance lurking in the shadows to bring back a regime nobody wants, you here in the middle of it all trying to establish your little cult while the Eldar attempt to play each off against the other. Know that the Red King laughs at you all. The true Master of Mankind looks upon all your petty plotting, and he laughs."

"And yet," the first daemon countered smoothly, not willing to let the other simply preach at it, "Your two pawns lie dead, while mine still stands."

It didn't bother to use Faradn's vocal cords any more. It used its true voice - soft, feminine, but with a sinister edge beneath the surface. It was the same voice that Victor had heard in his head as he floated comatose through the sewer. A concealed knife wrapped in velvet.

"The cult of the Red King has more followers in its mountain temple than the two I sent to infiltrate the resistance and end your dishonourable scheming." the other said airily. Unlike the first daemon it was still using its host's voice, or at least a perfect facsimile of it - probably as a calculated insult. "The Imperium could not destroy us during its reign and neither will the Tau. We will always have followers, because we are an undeniable truth. The heart beats only for blood. Even this body - a filthy psyker! - knows it."

The first daemon shook its head. "You servants of the Blood God never did have any subtlety. There's more to the psyche than just aggression and vengeance. Even humans aren't that simple. Look at this one for proof."

It stooped beside Mira's body, and gave her ashen face a surprisingly soft caress.

"The thing that truly moves people, the thing that inspires them and drives them to be better than they are, is love. There's no stronger force in the universe. And no force easier to manipulate." The daemon sighed, closing Faradn's eyes. When they opened again, a sheen of red light glinted across the irises. "She might have made such a lovely creature of Slaanesh, and now she's ruined! And the Sentinel pilot, so much potential, ruined too! Ruined by those bastard rebels!"

The other daemon merely chuckled. "Perhaps you're not as cunning as you think you are if the humans saw through you so easily."

"They saw nothing!" the first daemon snapped, "None of them! Not even that Tau and his Gue'vesa! I told them straight that this body found its own way of harnessing its powers. I flaunted its ritual scars for all to see and they were none the wiser. I might as well have told them how Joshua Faradn came to me begging to silence the visions in his head and how I obliged him. And that one," It jabbed a contemptuous figure towards the fallen Shas'vre Fire Spider, "Was no better. He watched as this congregation inbibed the psychotropics I've been lacing the communion bread with for weeks now, and thought nothing of it!"

The other daemon snorted, tired of the verbal sparring. "Then if these humans provide so little sport, let us give the gods a true spectacle!"

The first daemon grinned. Over the roaring impacts of krak missiles against the church's crumbling walls, it could hear the screech of the approaching Tau vehicles at the edge of hearing. It seemed that any chance of preserving its cult was long gone, so it might as well enjoy itself.

"Very well," it said sweetly, "Let's do it your way. And I'll prove that just because we prefer subtlety, my god's servants are still more than capable of taking yours in a straight fight as well!"

"Is that so." said the second daemon lazily, before generously flooding its host's body with a little of the warp energy at its command, "Kade? The bitch is all yours."

Lets do this.

The two psykers met even as Kade bled to death and Faradn reeled from the burn to his face. The psychic backlash blew out every window in a storm of glass and snuffed every fire. Electronics fried and sensors went haywire.

******

Alexander snapped out of his daze.

"Frak, frak!" he screamed as he saw Gaius, "No, I didn't!"

He picked the dead man up and carried him back across the street, placing him down inside the terraces they had stormed out from.

"Medic!"

He reached into Gaius’ pocket and withdrew the letter he had given him, and then ran back out of the building to the next injured guardsman, ferrying him back into safety. Alexander repeated this act a dozen times.

Around him the rebels were attempting to rise, dazed, looking for an enemy that seemed to have disappeared into thin air, unsure whether to advance into or retreat from the sudden silence that had fallen inside the fire-gutted church. A young corporal was trying to rally them. About five metres from Alex the plasma-gunner was whimpering as a medic dragged her back towards the cover of the terrace. Her irises and pupils were flooded red, the blunt-force trauma of Faradn's biomantic attack filling the anterior chambers of her eyes with blood. She was, at least for the immediate future, blind.

As Alexander approached the church someone else came crawling out, covered in blood and missing his weapon and his helmet. It was Hiero, but despite his dislocated shoulder and the apparent loss of the use of his legs, he was still trying to shout orders as he dragged himself away from the ruined church.

"Everybody out of the church!" he coughed hoarsely, "Everybody out!"

He seemed not to see Alex as he fumbled for his vox, clutching the blocky device in trembling fingers, "Sir!" he shouted into it, forgetting all the usual vox protocols, "Sir! Fire everything we've got at the church! Destroy that building now!"

The device was dead, fried by Kade's opening attack, but luckily for him Drake heard and recognised the voice of his sergeant. He had never heard the veteran soldier so terrified. He ran to the window while his vox operator struggled with the machine spirit of his own suddenly-inoperable set.

"Sergeant!" he shouted down, hoping the formal title would snap Hiero out of his hysteria, "What's going on!?"

"Destroy the church!" Hiero shouted again, "They're not even human, they're devils from the Warp! They're fighting each other! Kill them now!"

"Come on sergeant, I am taking you back to safety." said Alex as he and the young corporal from the sewers tossed him over their shoulders. "Retreat!"

"Sir!" shouted one of the rebels beside Drake, pointing out of the window in warning. The first of the Tau relief units had arrived, in the form of a single grey and yellow Devilfish that came howling over the smoking church towards the rebel-occupied terrace. But this wasn't one of Val'roth's units; it was Es'ka and his vehicle, carrying Edmund and Lynu'cha.

"Enemy armour!" the young corporal beside Alex screamed in warning, hauling the injured sergeant Rana after her, "Get to cover!"

"Move it double time!" Alexander yelled as he ran through the terrace's door, seating Heiro on the stair case.

"Fire at will." barked Shas'ui Es'ka to his pilot, and the Devilfish's burst cannon scythed a glowing arc across the street.

"Devilfish, 12 o'clock!" Drake shouted to his missile-armed rebels as the terrace they were holed up in shuddered from the impacts, "Take it down!"

This, the sandy-haired resistance leader thought grimly, Is it.

On the horizon appeared Val'roth's force - a Manta and two Orca dropships - streaking towards the battle.

"You bastard,” said a voice behind Drake, “I told you we didn't need to assault the church, I told you from our commanding position we could have cut them down with our combined firepower. Now look!" He pointed out the window at the spiralling chaos.

"Abandon this objective! The Tau will finish those traitors off, we move onto the HQ now or die trying! I didn't do this for you I did it for her!"

Drake whirled in surprise to face a furious Alexander Jalousies. Several of the ammo carriers who were running back and forth from the weapons cache in the kitchen were within earshot and glanced round too, in spite of the ongoing firefight. Alexander was one of the higher up members of the resistance, but he was also from a military background and so ought to understand its strict hierarchy. As such the blatant challenge to their leader's authority was completely unexpected.

“Keep moving!” Drake snapped at the ammo carriers, “I want that 'Fish down and that church razed!”

With his men galvanised back into the task at hand, Drake turned to Alex. It was clearly stress that was causing the man to lash out, and attempting to verbally slap him down in this state would do no good. Drake was stressed too – feeling the burden of command more now than in any other battle because he knew how it would end. The difference between them was that Drake could never let the men see it.

The moment you stop to count the cost, Drake recalled, That is the moment you fail. Well Alexander Jalousies was counting the cost now. Drake knew exactly who “her” was. Hiero had told him how Alex stared at Elisabeth when she attended the secret meetings between the resistance's undercover agents. And he abruptly realised, what with Alex being in deep cover among the Tau, and his own compartmentalising of information in case one of his agents was captured, he had never informed Alex of the full plan. He cursed himself for the mistake, which had now cost him dearly.

“Abandoning this objective was never an option, lieutenant.” he told Alex – loudly, because of the horrendous background noise, but with his tone level and calm. “If we don't keep the xenos tied up here, Kilo group will never get through to the astropathic relay in the HQ. And even they are only planning to hold out long enough for Novick to send his message. The likelihood is that every one of us is going to die, and we all accept that. We won't live to see this planet liberated from the frakking Tau, but our brothers and sisters will. Elisabeth will.”

He seized Alex by the shoulder with his left hand.

“I won't allow any of us to be captured, so magos Ramado's part in this will stay a secret. Everyone back at Vanifax is safe. You understand me, Alex? She's safe.” Crixus Drake kept his careworn eyes fixed on Alex's own as he repeated the words he had spoken to Edmund. “In this universe, a man has only two choices: you can either be sacrificed, or sacrifice yourself. My men and I have chosen to let our deaths stand for something. Are you with us, lieutenant?”

The mention of Elizabeth and the promise of her safety had calmed Alexander down. He stood and thought to himself for the briefest second of his love that could never be, then he snapped back into focus and continued his conversation.

"But sir, why does it have to end like this? We could distract them long enough for Novick to get across his message. Then retreat to the sewers and fall back to the mountains. Stay hidden until His holy fleet arrives."

Even as he said it, he realised that it was an unrealistic hope. By the time Novick’s message was sent, the Tau would have cut them off from their retreat. He shook his head, refusing to agree with Drake’s statement about fate.

I will not go quietly into the darkness.

He sighed under his rebreather. "I am with you sir, for the Emperor, forever onwards.”

Outwardly, Drake merely nodded. Inside he sighed with relief. Surreptitiously, he took his finger off the trigger of the laspistol he had been holding.

******

It was at this point that Edmund had, frankly, had enough of Valkora. Truly, if he had with him any of his normal...assets...then this planet would have been turned into a smoking crater. But such a scenario was currently impossible, so the next best thing would have to be arranged.

"Es'ka, Lynu'cha. Cease fire on them, right now! There are far greater things to be concerned of than petty revolutions and politics. If you wish to fire on something then destroy the church. It is the only hope for this world! Send a message to your backup as well, the church must be destroyed with everything inside it. Joshua Faradn no longer exists! His cult was a lie! That man has become warp spawn! Surely you remember Medusa V!"

Most of the Imperial and Tau forces probably didn't notice the intense psychic energies flowing about, radiating from the church, but to Edmund it was an assault unlike any other on his senses.

Kor'la Shai'is'ray looked to Es'ka for orders even as he threw the Devilfish into a sharp climb to throw off any return fire. Es'ka looked to Lynu'cha, his bionic eye clicking as it tried to mimic the slight narrowing of its organic counterpart.

"Do you trust him?" he asked pointedly.

Lynu'cha frowned, considering how much had changed since Edmund himself had asked him the very same question. He also remembered his and Es'ka's conversation immediately before entering the building where they had found the Ar'cea ranger. He had failed the Greater Good once before with his lack of vigilance; he dared not do so a second time.

"No." he said, "But I do believe him."

Es'ka stepped back, and as soon as he did so Edmund reached forward to grab the loudhailer, snatching it from beside the pilot.

"This is Inquisitor Edmund Rourke. Cease fire on the Tau forces immediately and destroy that FRAKKING CHURCH!"

He looked back over at Lynu'cha, a look of solid frustration in his eyes.

"How much firepower can you have called in on this location? Within the next five minutes?"

Lynu'cha stared back. Personally, he could call in nothing. The airbase outside Tasckird could have Barracudas scrambled to their location within 15 minutes, and they could probably call on more of the Fire caste within an hour. But both would require Shas'el Val'roth's personal authorisation. The Shas'kar'tyr's heaviest asset in Tasckird was the Manta destroyer currently looming in the distance, but Val'roth was clearly conscious of collateral damage, for he had not opened fire with the destroyer's long-range railguns. His reticence to use the Manta's heaviest weapons suggested he might have the same reservations about calling in an airstrike.

The battered fire warrior made his decision. "With your permission, Shas'ui?" he said to Es'ka. Es'ka nodded.

Lynu'cha picked up the radio transmitter, feeling oddly relieved after the frustration of being out of radio contact for most of the day. He keyed in the channel and held down the transmitter button. "Manta Shi Five One, this is Shas'la Ke'lshan Lynu'cha, at ground zero. I require the immediate attention of El'Val'roth."

"Incoming fire has ceased, Shas'ui." reported Shai'is'ray as he banked the Devilfish round for another pass, this time aiming for the church. As he did so, a cold psychic presence invaded the transport. The psychically-blunt Tau were oblivious, but it hit Edmund like a sledgehammer.

"So, Gue'vesa'ui." the presence said. It spoke with a woman's voice, and managed to be both gentle and hard at the same time. "Or should I call you inquisitor Rourke? I haven't forgotten what you did to poor Mira, and my challenge still stands. If you think you can squash me like an insect, come and try."

With a musical laugh, the presence withdrew.

CHAPTER 13

Shas'el Val'roth slipped his hands and feet into the control yokes, and the battlesuit came to life. It stood up, unfolding from its deactivated fetal position in a smooth ballet of technology, until it stood half a metre above the XV8 suits around it. Its arms uncurled to reveal a quartet of deadly burst cannons, almost as long as the arms themselves. It was long-limbed and angular, the latest urban warfare solution in the Ke'lshan sept's armoury. An XV9 Hazard suit. Val'roth's HUD flickered into life, bathing his face in a cool blue light. Blocky Tau script scrolled down one side, system check icons flickering yellow to indicate full combat readiness. He turned his head left and right, and as he did so the motion detector in the HUD responded, turning the sensor array in the battlesuit's "head" to follow suit. Val'roth's holographic display panned to reveal two more Hazard suits unfurling on either side of him - his Shas'vre bodyguards - along with two more battlesuit teams equipped withthe smaller Crisis suits. Through his suit's audio pickups he heard a solid clunk of disengaging mag-locks as the two ion cannon-armed Hammerheads with their Devilfish outriders dropped away from the Manta and peeled off to either side, preparing to surround the insurgents and draw their fire as he had ordered. Soon the two flanking Orcas would peel off too; one towards the terrace where the main group of insurgents were concentrated, the other towards the smaller group that had set up position behind the church. The battlesuits and their supporting fire warriors would drop from the Manta and advance on foot while the destroyer itself poured fire into the rebel positions. Val'roth was conscious of damage to the civilian buildings in the area, but he was more conscious of the lives of the Shas'la who would be fast-roping down from the Orcas into the rebel-held buildings, and that meant that the defenders had to be suppressed with as much firepower as was necessary. Then the Orcas could close in to complete the Mont'ka. It was time to crush these insurgents who resisted the Greater Good once and for all.

At that moment, the radio receiver by Val'roth's ear let out a low beep."Shas'el, Ui'Es'ka has engaged the enemy, and La'Lynu'cha must be with him. He wishes to speak to you personally."

The Shas'vre in the command centre sounded confused. It was unusual for a Shas'la to speak directly to a Tau of commander rank. But Val'roth remembered that Lynu'cha was a squad leader even though he did not bear the rank usually associated with one, and he was closer to the action than Val'roth himself. He would have a clearer picture of the situation.

"Put him through." Val'roth intoned softly.

The radio beeped again, and Lynu'cha's voice rang out through the speakers. "Shas'el, there is a dangerous Warp phenomenon developing in the area. Recommend immediate targeting of the church with all available assets. Hold fire against the dissidents."

Val'roth frowned. "Confirm that last, Shas'la?"

"The situation has changed. I repeat, hold fire against the dissidents."

Val'roth's frown deepened. "Communication acknowledged, Shas'la. Val'roth out."

"Could it be a trick?" the Shas'vre in the command pod put in, as Val'roth cut the link to Lynu'cha with the touch of a button on his left hand yoke. "Could the dissidents have compromised our network? Captured La'Lynu'cha and forced him to send the message against his will?"

The possibility had certainly occurred to Val'roth, especially given how completely the request contradicted Lynu'cha's earlier communication. Genuine or not, it threw doubt on Val'roth's current plan of action, and traditional Fire caste doctrine under such circumstances was to fall back and plan anew. Falling back, however, was not currently an option. The commander opened a channel to his entire force.

"To all units of Task Force Mont'ka, this is Shas'el Val'roth. Complete encircling manoeuvre, mark targets and hold position. Fire in retaliation only and await further orders."

******

"Any word from Kilo group or Novick?" Drake shot the question towards his vox operator.

The man shook his helmeted head. "No, sir. The vox is still dead. Whatever warpcraft that heretic just unleashed fried it."

Another unexpected interruption from Alex drew Drake's attention back to the ex-arbiter.

"Sir, I have a request." Drake looked around, and saw that Alex had withdrawnan envelope from inside his jacket. "I had asked Gaius to deliver this for me, but those agents of chaos saw to his demise." Alex carefully left out the part that it had also been his autopistol that had claimed Gaius’ life. "Send a runner back to Vanifax along with mine and any other guardsmen's propositions for their loved ones."

Drake looked at Alex with genuine regret. "I think you already know that I can't spare a courier for personal errands right now. If I were you I'd destroy that letter. If the Fishes find it on your body they might draw a connection with Elisabeth."

Then the Tau stopped firing, and Edmund's voice echoed from the Devilfish's external speakers.

"This is Inquisitor Edmund Rourke. Cease fire on the Tau forces immediately and destroy that FRAKKING CHURCH!"

"What the Horus?" Drake said, running to the window. The Devilfish was pulling away, but it was not spitting pulse fire back at them as it retreated. What was inquisitor Rourke playing at?

"Sir? What do we do?"

Drake looked down at the church as another jet of light flashed luridly through the broken windows, and made up his mind. A combination of what he had seen Kade do, Hiero's warning, and now Edmund's desperate order made his decision for him. Even though there was a possibility that some of Hiero's men might still be in there.

"Do as the inquisitor says." he ordered, "Cease fire on the enemy armour and focus additional fire on the church."

"But sir!" spoke up one of the missile operators, "What about the Fishes?"

"To Warp with the Fishes." Drake snarled. He had had quite enough of his authority being questioned in the last 5 minutes. "As long as they're here with us then they're not back at HQ opposing Kilo. Level that church!"

******

Edmund fell to one knee, straining to keep his psychic wards at full strength. His wounds were beginning to flare up again, and exhaustion was taking its toll on his body. Damn it! Why aren't they destroying the building!

"Hurry damn you!” he barked to Es’ka and the others,“If this breaks out farther the only way to save this planet is to burn it to the ground! Fire everything NOW!"

For one of the rare moments in his life, Alex wished that his old nemesis Alicia was hunting him, trying to claim him for heresy. The Lady inquisitor always enjoyed bringing more than enough firepower, and her Monodominant temper wouldn't have allowed the church to be standing five minutes ago. Of course, having Alicia around would have created other problems, namely a lot of dead Tau and Edmund himself facing execution.

Blood dripped out from his nose as another psychic wave blasted against his wards.

"DO IT! DAMN IT, DESTORY THE CHURCH!"

******

Alexander realised that Drake was right. He would only be endangering those at Vanifax, and the possibility of a runner was negligible. Even if we were to send one, by the time they returned most or even all of us would have been killed.Alexander stood reluctantly as he opened the envelope and withdrew the letter. Not caring about what was unfolding around him, he took his time to read it one last time.

Dear Elisabeth,

I just wanted to thank you! You know I don't think you realize how much you inspire me. I understand you've been through a lot. Though truthfully I've always known from the very first time I met you that you were a strong person.

You are so full of wisdom about life that when you speak it really makes me think that I could stay there forever just to listen to your open mind, for it is peaceful and inviting.

Elisabeth, you have become my awakening, you have helped me see things in a brighter way. In a happier, enlightening way. For I was once drowning in my own fears, completely cynical about love, about hope and security. I used to think that no-one understood me and no-one ever could.

Then one day, before I knew you personally, you flew into my thoughts and at that moment, though I wasn't truly sure why, you were there. Suddenly I felt reassured and a smile was brought to my heart. Somehow, I believe deep down I knew I loved you then.

You made me laugh and forget everything that was going on. That you became my escape, my survival. I don't think I could have made it through this as strong as I did if you weren't in my life.

Elisabeth, I thank you for all the times we spent together even if they were short lived. Now over the time I have been on this planet, I have come to this conclusion you must have been an angel sent by the God Emperor to help me grieve and become a strong-willed man, because no-one else has ever been able to help me see the light.

You don't have to say a word; everything's okay when you're beside me. You know I thank the Emperor every day for the amazing people He has brought into my life.

Love always,
Alexander Jalousies

With tears pooling in his eyes he let the letter flutter to the floor. The sound of the paper hitting the ground felt like a frag grenade going off next to him. Goodbye my dear, I will always remember you, and I just hope that you felt as I did. He raised his lasgun, firing at the note, and the energy blast set it alight.

"It’s done. I am going to take up a firing position. Sir."

Drake nodded tersely and turned to one of the young ammo runners who had just reappeared with an armful of las-cells. "How much ammo do we have left?"

"Maybe two thirds of the las, sir." the runner replied. She was young, perhaps only 18, and the flak vest she wore was tightened to its limit to fit around her slender frame. "And about half of the heatseeks."

Drake cursed under his breath.

"Sir,” put in Alex, “With the Tau giving us some breathing space and the traitors fighting each other, shouldn't we use this time to retrieve our wounded comrades and any equipment we can salvage? Also we could start a fire." He pointed to the nearby fireplace. "And throw the drained energy packs into it - should recharge them quite quickly. It will shorten the packs’ life span, but I don't see how that will affect us in our given situation."

He walked out of the room and took cover behind a vacant window. He placed his eye over his rifle’s scope, looking for his targets. The smoke leftbehind bythe rocket salvo and the pulses of burst cannon fire clouded his view. He took a deep breath and levelled his rifle over the window sill, adding his weight into the torrent of fire now pouring into Faradn’s burning church.

******

Oh, that’s interesting. said not-Kade.

The church swirled and burned and melted and screamed. Kade and Faradn poured everything into the battle, everything their daemon masters cared to give them, and the world suffered as a result.

What? Kade managed.

The Tau have withdrawn and are holding fire. That's giving us a little more time. Well, you anyway. The daemon gave a chuckle that would have made his skin crawl, if he had had any of it left. Kade wasn't even sure how he was still alive. Surely when you were missing your skin, your left arm, and your eyes, all natural laws said you should die?

Nope. Still alive. So was Faradn, who he could still see through what he realised must be some kind of psychic witch sight. The Pacifica preacher was nothing more than an emaciated, flaming figure, but he too was still alive in the eye of the storm they were making.

As they fought, an idea floated to the top of Kade’s mind, like a piece of flotsam from the shipwreck. Or…or more like a message in a bottle. It was from Faradn. Somehow, with the daemons’ attention focused on the battle, he had slipped an important idea and a slight suggestion out of his slowly-cooking brain and into Kade's.

The inquisitor can psychically teleport.

Kade would have blinked in surprise, if he had still had eyes or eyelids. What did you say? And why would that matter?

He started to stagger forwards, holding out a hand to Faradn. The cult leader’s daemon was momentarily distracted taunting the inquisitor, and Kade that wasn't Kade had taken the opportunity to get the upper hand. Then it realised exactly what Kade was trying for.

Kade’s hand reached Faradn's. The other man, what was left of him, understood and gave the last of himself to the plan. The daemons realised too late what they were doing.

You little worm! screeched Kade that wasn't Kade, All I've given you and you've betrayed me! Do you think you can escape? We ARE the warp. I will have your soul!

Kade felt the daemon trying to get control again. It would succeed. In seconds. But Kade only needed a second.

The inquisitor can psychically teleport. And so can we. No one else need die today.

You can't hide from us! screeched the daemon as it tried to lock its talons onto his soul. I will follow you until the stars die and turn to cinders! You will burn in the furnace of Khorne’s rage for a thousand thousand eternities!

Faradn bowed his head. Kade could hear, tinny and distant, the impotent shrieking of his possessing daemon as it tried to hook its claws back into Faradn’s blackened soul.

The Emperor protects.

There was a clap of thunder. The church sagged inwards under the weight of Imperial firepower, collapsing like a blazing house of cards. The warp fires sucked inwards for a second, then puffed back outwards to twist and melt the street cobbles into a flat glass pane. Dust sheeted out across the street.

The last thing anyone heard, over the groan of the collapsing church as it finally died, was the laughter of Kade and Faradn. Then the ruin fell silent. For the two psykers, it was over.

******

Alexander lowered his weapon and watched in awe.

Did we do that?

The church began to collapse upon itself. Then he saw the bellowing purple flames.

Daemons! He hit the deck when the psychic energy discharged, echoing outwards, warping and melting anything unfortunate to be in its utterly lethal radius.

He placed both hands onto the floor, pushing himself upright again. His thoughts were elsewhere, trailing off course as he stood. What about the Tau? Will they now give us one last chance for mercy? Which Drake will heartilydecline…Had Novick made it? What would become of the inquisitor or Elisabeth? Elisabeth…

He would never know; all he did know was that the Tau would soon have them outnumbered and outgunned. "For the Emperor lads! Forever onwards!"

******

"Mon'tau!" the Shas'vre in the Manta command pod swore across an open channel, making Val'roth frown at such unprofessional conduct from a senior fire warrior.

"Report, Shas'vre." he responded, attempting to inject some of his own calm into his subordinate.

"Shas'el, there has been a massive explosion from the church, and fluctuations in the sensors suggest that it was Warp-based in nature."

The Tau did not have dedicated Warp detectors as standard issue, but they had learned to recognise the scrambling effects that such phenomena could have on conventional instruments, and all the signs now were bad.

"Acknowledged." said Val'roth. He thought carefully for a moment, and then clicked on his universal radio. "All Manta units, deploy and advance." Another click brought him back into private conversation with his second in command. "Shas'vre, how are the dissidents responding?"

"They have ceased fire, Shas'el. They appear to be as surprised by the sudden Warp flux as we are."

"Acknowledged." said Val'roth again. As the Manta's cavernous bay doors ground open and the lighter-armoured Shas'la began to fast-rope down, Val'roth and the other battlesuits jumped from the yawning doors. A halo of thruster jets around each warrior's armour fired in sequence to slow their descent, and one after the other the Tau elite slammed down into the road below, driving a spiderweb of cracks through the asphalt.

Val'roth straightened his battlesuit's limbs from its crouched landing position, and projected his voice down the ravaged street from its built-in loudhailer.

"Gue'la dissidents!" he announced in perfect Valkoran gothic, "This is Shas'el Ke'lshan Val'roth, commander in chief of the Tasckird Shas'kar'tyr. You will immediately throw down your weapons and surrender to the Greater Good. There will be no second warning."

******

The two Shas'vre in the command centre of the Manta watched the deployment intently as their gargantuan missile destroyer hovered menacingly over the scene, generating downwash massive enough to knock down and deafen any unprotected person below them even at a height of nearly 50 metres. Some Shas'vre were promoted for their combat prowess, and it was these that went on to form the honour guards for Tau commanders. Others were promoted for their tactical acumen, and would one day go on to become commanders themselves. These two Shas'vre were of the latter type, but despite their skills in command and control they felt out of their depth in a situation such as this. Luckily, Shas'el Val'roth seemed to have the situation under control.

That is, until the situation changed dramatically, heralded by a blue light on the Shas'vre's console and a howl of static from their radio headsets. The Shas'vre started, looked at each other, and the quicker thinking of the two punched the transmitter button on their shared console.

"This is Manta Shi Five One, please repeat?"

"Shi Five One, this is Shas'kar'tyr command! We need you to return to base immediately! A second group of dissidents is assaulting the HQ and they have breached the outer perimeter, repeat, more dissidents are attacking the HQ! We need immediate reinforcements!"

"Mon'tau!" the Shas'vre swore, for the second time that night, "Command, Manta Shi Five One acknowledges. Recalling forces now."

"Shas'el!" the other bridge officer snapped into her own microphone, "Command requires immediate recall of all units. HQ is under attack!"

******

"Soldiers! We have fought through the storm of heretics, and now we are besieged by xeno scum. For all of you, I am proud to call you all guardsmen. You may have only been a volunteer or serving among the PDF, but through your vigilance and gallantry you have earned your titles."

Alexander paused in his address, checking his lasgun magazine’s power level, and making sure his autopistol was reloaded.

"Everyone check weapons, equipment and ammo. Lets kill the fish-face frakkers! For the Emperor!"

Colonel Drake was listening approvingly as Alex attempted to inspire the men, when he saw the Tau leader and his subordinates wheel in sudden confusion. He didn't speak a word of Tau, but he knew that there could be only one reason for it. Astropath Novick had reached Kilo group, and they had begun the attack.

He looked around at the surviving guardsmen under his command, feeling his responsibility like a physical weight. He could save them. He could surrender to the Tau and save every man and woman here. But doing so would doom every man and woman in Kilo group, who would then be exposed to the full wrath of the Tau reinforcements. It would also doom Valkora itself to permanent Tau occupation, and render every death so far meaningless.

He could not do that. He could not fail the memory of Aaron Marrick, of Soren and his team, of Kapor and Lewis and Thorn and every other rebel who had died tonight. He could not fail the Emperor by leaving His world and His people to the mercy of the xenos. And that meant he had to sign the death warrant of every soldier under his command.

Gritting his teeth, he seized a missile tube from one of his men, a fair-haired lance corporal who he remembered all the way back from the Calisto 44th. The launcher was loaded, its targeting rune shining green. Drake stepped up to the window, and aimed the krak missile straight at Shas'el Val'roth.

"For the Emperor!"

The shout was swallowed up in the whooshing roar of the missile's launch, and the almost immediate thunder of weapons fire as every soldier on both sides followed suit.

******

Alexander leveled his lasgun and opened fire on the Tau forces bellow.

"Concentrate all firepower on the lead battlesuits!"He turned, pointing his index finger towards the missile launcher teams. "You, open fire on the Tau's heavy armour. Let the rest of us deal with the infantry." He turned again, now pointing to one of the ammo carriers. "Get us some fragmentation grenades - we need to distract them and keep the bulk of their forces outside."

He hammered in the trigger and ducked behind cover when he heard the inevitable "click" of an empty mag. He pressed in the ejector, letting the energy cell clang to the floor as he pressed in a fresh one.

"Sir, orders!"

Any reply Drake gave was drowned out as the Manta hovering in the distance zeroed its ion cannons and let loose a wall of white fire.

******

Edmund remained silent in the Devilfish, hoping Es'ka would resume his zealous desire to join in the fight and so land the vehicle. He was too tired to use his powers at the moment. A path of escape would open soon enough. He still wasn't sure about the daemons' fate. There was no further Warp distortion that he could detect, beyond some risidual psychic discharge. Whatever Kade and Faradn had done, it seemed to have taken care of the daemons. Unfortunately, it looked unlikely that the current situation could be solved so quickly.

Incandescent bolts of fire criss-crossed the street as the fire warriors broke into abandoned buidings and exchanged fire with the few rebels who were still able to return it. A long volley of contrails spiralled out from the Manta as it emptied its missile racks into the terrace foundations. With the pressing need to return and defend the HQ, the Tau had obviously relegated collateral damage to a secondary concern. The terrace was not built to withstand such punishment and the last three houses in the row collapsed in on themselves one after the other, taking a dozen insurgents with them. A scream of jets overhead heralded the arrival of the Orca dropships. One loomed above the building where Farahani and his squad had taken cover, the dropship's burst cannon sweeping the flat roof clear of the few rebels who tried to prevent the squads of fire warriors dropping onto it.

Drake saw the second Orca side-slipping into position above the half-collapsed terrace, flares arcing from its flanks to try and counter the rebels' missiles, and ordered Alex and six other men upstairs to contest it. The first two arrived at the door leading out onto the flat roof just as the first fire warriors were beginning to rope down. One panicked and fired his missile launcher up at the grey dropship, burning his comrades with the launcher's backwash down the narrow stairwell. The missile's shaped charge blew a gaping hole in the Orca's front-left turbine, sending metal debris spalling off in all directions. The Orca lurched drunkenly in the air, dragging the rope lines with it and spilling several fire warriors into the street below. Return fire from the Shas'la already on the roof cut the rebel in half even as the man behind was passing him a reload; the dying man's hand convulsed on the firing lever and the missile went spiralling into a knot of fire warriors clustered at the base of one of the ropes, who simply vanished in an eruption of red mist. Pulse carbines whined, and the man next to Alex snapped backwards, his helmet knocked flying from his shattered skull. The five survivors were forced to fall back into the stairwell as six times their number of Shas'la gathered above.

As the fire warriors forced their way down into Drake's stronghold and more Tau moved up to infiltrate the building from ground level, Shas'ui Es'ka ordered his pilot to back their Devilfish away from the lasfire that was still spitting from the windows.

"You have to tell them to surrender." Lynu'cha urged Edmund as the Devilfish began to descend behind the cover of an intervening building.

"And what would be the point, Lynu'cha? Drake has already condemned his men to death, you heard the very words out of his mouth. Unless your forces turn back the attack on the Headquarters he will not quit here. It's admirable to see them even attempt to continue the fight with everything your forces can bring to bear against them. It is something you Tau have yet to understand about the Imperium. We will stand our ground when we have nothing to lose, and what do these rebels have? Tonight is their one chance, their one hope at bringing the Imperium back to this world. They aren't going to quit."

The Inquisitor went silent a moment as he watched the battlefield, and crossed his arms.

"Truthfully, I do not know if the Imperium would even accept these rebels back. The taint of the Archenemy is on this world, on this battlefield, and many of the men already have the seeds of corruption within them. And there’s also the extended occupation of your species, and the people who have collaborated with your Empire. When the Imperium returns it is likely that this city will be turned into a ruin in the fighting. The survivors will probably be examined, spread out amongst the rest of the native Valkorans. Some may be sent to work camps. And the Imperium will move back onto this world and again use it for whatever the Emperor sees fit.”

“You sound unduly sure of your victory, Gue’la.” Es’ka spat.

Edmund smiled. “Do not believe that your species can hold this world, Tau. If the Imperium so desired we could crush your Empire like a twig."

Es’ka was about to voice an angry objection, but was cut off by an explosion as another missile made a rebel's firing position disappear in a cloud of dust.

"And what will the Tau do if the Imperium does not win?” Edmund went on,“I know what truly happens to dissidents within the Empire. Believe what you are told if you wish, but deep down you know what I mean. Everyone will be re-administered based upon their loyalty, collaborators will be removed, and more loyal members of the Greater Good will be brought in to replace them. But that won't stop the rebels. No, they will always continue, someone will always hate the invader. Even if they are anti-Imperium, like Mikhailov. Eventually, I see the original population of this world simply fading away, or the world getting caught in an invasion by Orks or the Tyranid beasts. That seems to be the common fate for anything in this sector of the galaxy. But you know this as well, don't you?"

Edmund let the Tau responses wash over him as he gazed at the octagonal screen at the front of the cabin. The pict screen showed the trooper come back from the smoke, bleeding but still fighting.

"This world is fated for nothing but more bloodshed.” he said.“That fate stands for the rest of the galaxy. You saw how that one rebel in the warehouse detonated the grenade. You saw how the girl reacted, how that fool Jalousies behaved. Every person who dies here in the name of the Imperium becomes a martyr, and every Tau a hero to the Greater Good. That is why people like me exist, because we're the only ones who can make such sacrifices worth it. It is my duty, much like that Eldar's, to try and steer things in the direction I see as the best for the Imperium of Man. The same applies to you, Shas'la Ke'lshan Lynu'cha. You will go far in the Fire caste, I think."

He paused again and straightened himself out as the two Tau squad leaders looked at each other.

"And I want you to know something else. That Ta'lissera. I earned that, every bit of it. It wasn't my fault they're dead. Oh, and there is a woman on Elsy'eir who would like some news about my fate. Gue’vesa’ui Bentu’Cea died on this world a hero, understand? And the Empire will make sure she is taken care of. Take it as a last request."

Without warning, he raised his arms and brought two blades from his wrists, quickly stabbing the two Earth caste investigators beside him. Then Illyria flew out of her sheath, beheading the Earth caste medic and finding the throat of the last investigator. A psychic blast then fired from Edmund’s hands, knocking the other Tau back as he hammered the ramp's engagement lock. He jumped back out of the vehicle, and tossed a flash grenade into it to blind the pilot who was trying to rise from his chair.

His cloak allowed him to glide to the ground and quickly duck off into the darkness. He had to get back to the Imperium; there was little he could do for these rebels, but if he made it offworld, then he would ensure that every man, woman, and loyal citizen of the Imperium's sacrifice was worth it.

******

Alexander took cover behind the column next to the staircase and pointed to the nearest guardsman. "Form up behind the other column." He then pointed to the next guardsman. "Plasma gunner, you take cover behind that door frame." He pointed to the last three troopers. "You three take up firing positions along that hallway, that’s our fallback position. Switch your weapons to full auto, equip bayonets and ready frag grenades. This will be ugly."

The man who had appropriated the plasma gun from its disabled operator shouldered his way to the front, but the first things down the stairs were not Tau but a cluster of photon grenades.

"Shield your eyes!" Alexander screamed, making sure his mask was secure, but he was too late to help the other rebels as the grenades exploded in a deafening welter of light and noise. Alex reached for his own, last remaining bright grenade. Oh no you don't, that is my trick. He threw the grenade, bouncing it off the terrace's wall. It actually rebounded off the chestplate of the first Tau to come down the stairs, and a moment later there was a second brilliant burst of light, this time to the detriment of the surprised Tau. Helmet lenses whited out and then repolarised as they tried to compensate for the glare, saving their owners' sight, but still blinding them for a crucial half-second.

Alexander broke cover and laid down covering fire until his squad’s own disorientation had passed. The Tau were coming down the narrow stairwell two by two, their heavy left shoulder-pads thrust forward like riot shields, but as they instinctively flinched away from Alex's bright grenade it opened up gaps in their defence. One Tau fell to his knees from Alex‘s fire, and Alex ducked back. Another two fire warriors pushed forward, pulse carbines raised, searching for targets. Alexander nodded to the two guardsmen concealed behind their cover.

"Open fire!"

The trio leaned out of cover and let loose. Their lasgun shots battered into the first Tau, and they watched as he fell down the flight of stairs. The other was instantly turned into ash as the plasma gunner fired and the heat of the deadly plasma pulse did its work.

"Let the grenades fly!" Alex yelled as he unpinned a frag and tossed it through the roof access door, hoping either to force the Tau to run blindly down the stairwell, or make them fall back and give his men some breathing space. The grenade exploded behind the first team of fire warriors already on the stairs, fatally injuring the two at the back and knocking down two more as their comrades fell forward into them. The rebel on the opposite side of the door to Alex took a pulse round to the face as he broke cover to lob his own grenade. He dropped like a stone, while the grenade went spinning backwards into the centre of the room, detonating a second later to send razor-sharp fragments scything into both the Tau and the humans. Alex felt a white hot pain in the back of his leg as his plasma gunner ducked for cover, but ignored it as an injured Tau flopped through the door, followed by two who were very much alive.

They immediately spun left and right to check the doorway corners, pulse carbines tight against their shoulders, and the latter came face to face with Alex. A burst of pulse rounds hit Alex's chestplate with the force of a horse's kick, and Alex felt his ribs crack inwards. He coughed blood inside his mask, and the fire warrior who had shot him did the same as Alex's bayonet rammed forward into his throat. The Tau dropped his weapon, his hands instinctively wrapping round the lasgun that had skewered him, but Alex just ripped it backwards so that the fire warrior fell in a blue arc of cobalt blood. Jets of red and blue light cross-hatched the room as the Tau and the humans in the next hallway unloaded into each other at murderously close range. The white flash of the plasma gun followed, lighting up the whole room. Alex fired into the next Tau to cross the stairwell threshold, exploding the side of his curved helmet. At the same moment, a wounded Tau on the floor raised a pulse pistol and fired upwards into the arbiter's groin. As he staggered, a fire warrior with Shas'ui rank flashes on his grey armour slammed the butt of his pulse carbine into the side of Alex's face, smashing his mask and driving shards of broken plastic into his right eye. The arbiter went down hard on his back, every nerve in his body on fire, and almost immediately felt yet another thunderbolt of pain as the Shas'ui put akilling burst into his chest. The Tau procedure for making sure a downed combatant was dead was similar to that of the Guard; one shot to the centre of mass, followed by one to the head. But before the Shas'ui could deliver the second execution shot, a volley of lasfire punched him in the side and sideswiped him off his feet. As more fire warriors poured down the stairs, the surviving rebels were pushed back and the firefight swept deeper into the building.

******

"There it is!" Julian Novick heard a guardsman shout as he was bundled across a cavernous room. He could not see much of what was going on; the battle around him was a hurricane swirl of chaotic movement and violent emotion, but the astropathic array glowed like a beacon to his Warp sight. Still under study by the Tau Earth caste, it was in one piece, and operational. Pulling away from his two bodyguards he groped his way towards it, familiar sensations washing over him as he sat down in one of the astropath's thrones and felt the arcane machinery respond. The air crackled with static as restraining manacles folded around his wrists, mitigating the inevitable spasms as the neural communion jack drove into the socket in the back of his neck. The ripples in the Warp around him seemed to grow brighter, whiting out the souls fighting and dying around him, causing the screams and the gunfire to fade away. Novick cast his mind into the machine, beaming the symbolic images of his thoughts out into the depths of space.

An eagle rising up against the shark. The faithful taking up arms. Valkora stands. Valkora resists.

He got no further, because at that moment a hail of pulse fire tore the astropath ragged, throwing him back against his throne in a fountain of blood.

******

Farahani and his men were dead or dying, caught between the fire warriors storming down from above and the Crisis battlesuits covering all the exits. Opposite, the Tau fire warriors pushed into the ruined terrace even as grenades rained down on them from the upper floors, bringing colonel Drake's position under attack from both above and below. Sergeant Hiero Rana died to a hail of pulse fire in the ground floor living room, along with the twelve wounded rebels he was defending. With their HQ screaming for reinforcements the Tau had little time to secure prisoners, and after a wounded rebel by the front door had detonated a pair of grenades as they moved to capture him, killing a Shas'ui in the blast, they couldn't afford to take the risk.

At close quarters the humans had the advantage of faster reactions, but the Tau had better equipment and, most importantly, more ammunition. Taking the ground floor cut the rebels off from their weapons cache in the kitchen, and after that it was only a matter of time. Ten minutes later, the Tau breached the second floor from both above and below. One of the rebels making their last stand in the central rooms was a blonde, weather-beaten man, already bleeding to death from shrapnel wounds, who emptied an autopistol through the grenade splintered wall as the first Tau rushed the stronghold. The Shas'la who eventually double-tapped him had no idea that he had just killed the leader of the resistance.

CHAPTER 14

It was only after the fighting had stopped that Lynu'cha, Es'ka and Shai'is'ray awoke in the blood-slick cabin of their Devilfish.

"Gue'la!" Es'ka roared, scrambling to his feet. His bionic eye had lost power in the blast and was now dark and unresponsive. His remaining organic one blazed with fury.

"Do not waste your breath, Shas'ui." Lynu'cha murmured as he retrieved his pulse carbine and limped towards the open rear ramp. He could do nothing for the four dead Fio'la. "The mon'tau traitor will be long gone."

"I will contact command," said Shai'is'ray, "Tell them to issue a public warrant for Ui'Cea's arrest."

"No." Lynu'cha sighed. "We need to fulfil his request. As far as the public are concerned, Ui'Cea died in the line of duty with the rest of my team."

Shai'is'ray looked on in confusion - after all, it had been Lynu'cha that had told him to transmit the warning about Edmund's true loyalties to HQ in the first place. Es'ka, still stunned at the murder of his team, reacted in a way closer to anger.

"Explain, Shas'la." he snarled.

"Inquisitor Edmund Rourke is an enemy of the Greater Good who must be hunted down without mercy. Gue'vesa'ui Bentu'Cea must not be made known to have been the same person. The traitor Jalousies was bad enough; would it help the Shas'kar'tyr's already tenuous reputation to know that a dissident was able to infiltrate the upper tier of our Gue'vesa? No. No, that would not serve the Greater Good."

The Shas'la let out a deep breath as he saw a team of fire warriors round the corner and come running towards them as they spotted the crashed Devilfish.

"We will get him, Shas'ui. But I doubt it will be tonight. Tonight we need to mourn our fallen, and limit the damage this rebellion has caused." He slumped as the first fire warrior reached the entrance ramp. The latter would be no easy task.

"Assistance, Shas'la?" asked the fire warrior, clearly taking an effort to keep his voice level as he saw the carnage that had taken place inside the Devilfish.

"Those of us who are not already beyond help are fine." Lynu'cha assured him. "What has happened?"

"The dissidents here are destroyed, as are the ones who mounted an attack on HQ. They broke into several areas of the main complex but were swiftly isolated and neutralised when our strike force returned to reinforce the defenders. Command is still unsure of what they hoped to achieve."

******

Two days dater, and Inquisitor Edmund Rourke was moving west, following the river. The main roads out of Tasckird ran parallel to the narrow strip of lush landscape around the river, bracketed on the other side by the arid northern wastelands. Now that he had acquired a vehicle via a simple piece of psychic trickery, Edmund’s objective was the neighbouring city of Solonis – the nearest other city big enough to have its own spaceport. If he could get there, then he could get off this damned planet.

Edmund felt the tell-tale build up of psychic force a moment before his car flipped up onto two wheels and then crashed down on its roof, throwing the inquisitor hard against the door pillar. Dazed, blood streaming from his temple, the inquisitor immediately blew out the window with a jab of will before launching out and rolling to his feet, Illyria flying from its scabbard across the back seat straight into his hands. As his fingers closed around the hilt, he felt a psychic will even more powerful than his own press against his mind.

One after the other, eight tall figures rose up from the surrounding landscape, seeming to appear out of nowhere. They were clad in full-body suits of streamlined armour, which as they stood up rippled and changed from the sandy yellow of the surrounding landscape to a dark royal blue. Each wore a backswept helmet with glinting cyan eye-lenses and carried a fluted, flat-barrelled firearm linked by a cable from the trigger grip to an interface port at the soldier's elbow. At the centre of the formation was a slender figure wearing a dark robe over his armour, his face hidden behind an ornate domed helmet, and it was from this figure that the psychic force radiated. Edmund could feel it pulsing, beating in time to the gentle on-off glow of the banded breastplate the psyker wore over his cloak. He advanced on Edmund with one arm extended, as if seeking to push him down with his hand even as his mind suppressed the inquisitor's.

A stream of telepathy pushed into Edmund's mind, streaming out from the glowing triangular eye-lenses of the other psyker's helmet. It was an odd mix of emotions, as if the newcomer was praising and cursing him at the same time. His thought patterns were distinctly alien, but not so much so that Edmund could not divine his intent. The alien's message was clear.

You are coming with us.

EPILOGUE

Astropath Novick's brief message reached the Imperial world of Brimlock mere minutes after being sent, but it would take many months for the word to reach ears capable of acting on it. Nevertheless the gears of war were set in motion, and even the most subtle of Eldar machinations could not now stop the Imperium's eye turning inexorably towards Valkora. No-one knows when, but if the sector commanders deem it viable – and given the current instability on the Tau side of the border, they almost certainly will – war is sure to come to Valkora.

In the meantime, the Tau have been left to pick up the pieces of colonel Drake's final gambit. In spite of what Drake told Jalousies in their final minutes, the wounded rebels in Vanifax sewage works were not safe, as Lynu'cha passed information to Val'roth's strike force about Magos Ramado's betrayal. Shas'kar'tyr units stormed the building less than an hour after the last insurgents were neutralised. Ramado was apprehended with minimal resistance, along with all the other rebels and sympathisers present in the building. Elisabeth Marrick was among those arrested.

The Water caste made every effort to prevent news of the rebellion spreading offworld, but they could not stop word reaching the other major cities of Valkora. The human population is now more polarised than ever in the wake of such open defiance, and the number of Shas'kar'tyr units has had to be doubled to deal with increasing unrest between those who supported and opposed Tau rule. Perhaps more importantly, the Warp phenomenon at Aotoris so alarmed the Tau that they launched a full investigation into its cause. Cult activity of all kinds came under closer scrutiny by the Shas'kar'tyr, and a report on the potential instability of human psykers was sent back to T'au, so that the alarming implications could be addressed at the highest level.

Heavily involved in this investigation was none other than Shas'la Lynu'cha, who had first hand experience of what had happened in Aotoris. The one best equipped to answer his questions was of course Edmund Rourke, but despite a thorough search of Tasckird and the surrounding area, as well as a month-long security crackdown on all flights offworld, the inquisitor could not be found. Several months after the uprising Lynu'cha undertook his second trial by fire, this time passing. His first action as Shas'ui was to lead a team – this time comprising fire warriors and not Gue'vesa – during a combat sweep of the mountains south of Tasckird. They were searching for more rebels, but instead they found the Cult of the Red King.

The members of Lynu'cha's team – Kor’la Anuk'ta, Erek Blerr, Nylor Kade, Vyctor Cenk, Sylas Pike, Alexei Mikhailov, even Victor Sorid – were buried with the honours due to individuals who died in service to the Greater Good. Shaper Krii'tik's body was recovered from the sewers the day after the rebellion, and handed back to the Kroot community in Tasckird. The Shapers considered it a great tragedy that the flesh of such a brave fighter was now too corrupted for his former kindred to assimilate. The fate of Alexander Jalousies remains a mystery, as like many of the other rebels who died at Aotoris, his body could not be positively identified.

No-one in the Imperium nor the Tau Empire has heard anything from Inquisitor Rourke since the uprising.