The Beast Arises

Three. In a galaxy-wide incursion. No wonder they were losing. He didn’t need another classified internal document to tell him that.

‘The orks are getting sophisticated,’ murmured Cage. ‘Their choice of targets suggests a network of supply lines, resource processing centres and communication hubs that we’ve not seen before.’ She smiled coldly. ‘Or so the Progenium Tacticae tell us.’

‘This wasn’t in the unredacted agenda packet.’

She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Everyone knows orks can appear intelligent in battle. I know. But in war?’ She shook her head. ‘The Lord Militant would have been laughed out of the Senatorum.’

Vangorich glanced over his shoulder as a squad of Lucifer Blacks in enamelled black carapace powered up their shock glaives and ran for the main doors. They were wearing yellow armbands. Vangorich had never seen anything like that in the regiment before. He filed a mental note to look into it.

‘Why are you showing this to me?’ he asked.

The Lucifer Blacks thumped through the transport-sized oak doors. Suddenly, the sound of bolter fire was very close indeed.

‘Operational freedom,’ said Cage. ‘I have a certain amount of leeway. There are Progenium schools in the orks’ path, Tempestus regiments that the Lord Militant doesn’t know about, but you? I’m willing to bet you have agents in the area so deep even they don’t know who they are.’

‘This reputation of mine will get me into trouble one day.’

‘I was told you had a sense of humour, Grand Master. One of many things I disapprove of.’

‘And who told you such a thing?’

‘Wienand.’

‘You’ve spoken to Wienand?’

She ignored his question. ‘We can’t beat the orks without them.’ She nodded towards the lords on the dais. ‘But with organisations like ours we can slow them down.’

‘Leave it with me,’ Vangorich murmured, noncommittal, passing the slate back to the aide sitting in the pew immediately behind him.

Then, along with several hundred others in a hall built for half a million, he turned towards the sudden acrimony spilling from the dais.

Udo was rising, pulling the creases from his uniform in a clink of brass, and then glaring milkily from his throne.

The Inquisitorial Representative had arrived. Both of them.

Lastan Neemagiun Veritus walked up to the dais with a clunking, power-armoured stride. His antique battleplate was white, filigreed with theurgic symbols and possessed of its own wanton animus by fluttering papyrus scraps. The man himself was shrunken and pallid. His armour’s gorget seals sucked and wheezed about his thoat like a ventilator. At his shoulder, walking briskly and without augmentation, came a woman with short, pale grey hair and a face far younger than her eyes.

Vangorich had never considered her appearance to be anything other than ordinary until just then, and the kick of his emotional rebuke surprised him.

‘Wienand,’ he breathed.

Udin Macht Udo puffed out his medals. ‘The names of all Senatorum aides are to be pre-submitted to the Administratum for approval.’ Lips curled back, he turned his dead eye onto Ekharth, who quickly blathered his agreement. ‘Inquisitor Wienand will have to leave.’

‘She is not my aide,’ said Veritus, his voice like sand. ‘She is the Inquisitorial Representative.’

‘Not any more, Veritus. You are.’

‘Until the Inquisition decides otherwise,’ said Wienand smoothly.

Veritus had an undeniable gravitas, an automatic authority brought on by age and ceramite, but Wienand spoke with a reasoned clarity that the Senatorum had been missing for too long. ‘And now it has been decided that Lastan and I both will best represent our organisation at this time.’

‘Outrageous!’ spat Mesring, jumping from his chair like a feral cat. ‘This is a grab for power.’

‘Agreed,’ came Kubik’s unsubtle vocalisation.

Wienand spread her hands peaceably. ‘The Inquisition still has one vote on this council.’

‘But two voices,’ whispered Anwar, silkily.

‘United,’ said Veritus. ‘As it is time we all were.’

The Provost-Colonel was speaking urgently into a vox-pin in her cuff. Lansung appeared to be nodding slowly in agreement.

A hush had fallen over the auditorium, all eyes on Udin Macht Udo as the Lord Guilliman turned and strode stiff-backed from the podium.

‘Well, sir,’ said Beast Krule, pushing his thick arms over Vangorich’s seat back and secreting the commissar’s data-slate into one of several concealed pockets. ‘I’d say that makes things interesting.’

Four

Mars — Pavonis Mons

Two masked, metal-skinned skitarii marched Eldon Urquidex’s awkward frame down the long, smearily-lit corridor. The clump of their stride rattled the loose, metallic floor and swished the hems of their robes. The tough, energy-damping weave of their garments did odd things to the incident light, darkening their deep crimson hue to just a shade above black. These were alphas, veterans drawn from the numberless battle maniples of Mars and augmented according to that status. The best.