W40K RPG, Line of Damnation- Memoria

[Imperial Overlord]

Jolan Gix waited outside Magister Venox's office for permission to enter. The servator in front of him was silent. It was a beautiful piece, a serenely beautiful naked woman cast in silver. Then she spoke. Even that was perfect. Deep, but not quite husky. Serious and alluring, but not quite seductive. "You may enter," it said.

Jolan touched a control and the matte black door slid open. Inside the Magister waited at his desk. With him was a handsome woman much older than she appeared. Her long, dark hair was gathered in a single braid and was lightly touched by silver. She wore an armoured black body suit, which added to her air of severity. A weapon harness was worn over her armour and some of the most powerful and terrible products of the Imperial technology hung from that harness. Jolan made a quick calculation and then spoke. 'Inquisitors, how may I be of service?"

Magister Venox smiled at the woman and then turned back to Jolan. "Interrogator Gix, I have the pleasure of introducing Inquisitor Kira Nevan."

"The Inquisitor Neven of the Radstadt Incident?"

She smiled. It looked good on her. "The same. I am here needing to recruit some psychic muscle. Someone who can directly confront the servants of the Arch Enemy and defeat them in battle. Of the recently graduated interrogators, who would you advise me to choose?"

A test, Jolan thought. His eyes narrowed. Might as well play along. "You are obviously considering me. As for the others, I can tell you that Harad Garvansson is your best alternate choice. He's the strongest and most versitile. But he thinks because the Black Ships toughened him up and didn't break him, that he can handle what field work entails. Everyone here survived the Black Ships intact. He thinks because he has always triumphed easily, he always will. He is unprepared for the realities of work in the field, no matter how good his scores on paper."

"No one else is clearly superior to me in the psychic arena. Several are a little stronger or have a more diverse array of talents, but I am steadier than they are. They also don't have my aptitude for psychic confrontations. They may joke that I am a hammer, but a hammer is what you are looking for. I have an apptitude for this kind of work. No other graduate is as comfortable wielding psychic energies as I am. You want a combat psyker, I am your best choice."

Inquisitor Neven raised an eyebrow. "Steadiest?" she asked.

"I've known for years that an Inquisitor usually dies in the field and I have accepted it. I don't worry about it. I know that the horrors that await are beyond my comprehension. I don't worry about that. Someday, they will kill me. In order to advance the Imperium, I can't worry about that. I just have to focus on destroying them utterly."

"Interesting. You're right about the horrors you will face will be beyond your ability to concieve of them. No one who hasn't faced them can truly know what it means to face the Ruinous Powers. You've addressed the present, but what about the future?"

"Let me face the enemy first. Let me crush them and learn what they are and their methods firsthand. Then I will have enough knowledge to start planning for the future."

"Welcome to my service Interrogator Jolan Gix. Together we shall see the future and set about securing the Emperor's Dream."

[Imperial Overlord]

The ship was a small tramp freighter, capable of landing on a planet and cruising into the warp. It was something a free trader or rich noble might own. Or an inquisitor.

The outside was thickly armoured and encrusted with gargoyles and purity seals. It resembled a barnacle encased whale. The inside was business like, well maintained, and clean. Until you reached the crew quarters.

These were luxuriously appointed. Thick carpets from a dozen civilized worlds. Elaborate brass fitting on the lamps and pic screens. Fur hides from Catachia. Sophisticated technics from Necromundia. Food and liquers from all over the Imperium. These were displayed in goblets and on plates of Vitrian glass, on a table of Vitrian glass, covered in an Iltherian table cloth, hovering without legs on Necromundian suspensors.

But the men and women who sat around the table were not the normal members of high society. Inquisitor Neven had thrown on a fur lined red silk robe so she at least could pass for one. She went clockwise around the rectangular table, intorducing each one.

She pointed to a meek, shaven headed woman in clean overall. "Melissandra, formerly Sanctioned Psyker of the 32,458th Necromundian Spiders. The tall drink of water next to her is Calidan Vils, bounty hunter and free lance enforcerer. Gerran Balmish is our Navigator and that grim unsmiling man is our pilot Ziv Caldain, formerly a bomber flight leader with the Imperial Navy. That leaves Yvarine Recket, former member of several crimminal gangs, former soldier of the Imperial Guard, and enforcer for the Three Systems Mining Consortium, which you've never heard of, in the Halo stars. Bella was a concubine and an assassin for a cult called the Tears of the Emperor. All of you, this is Interrogator Jolan Gix. Jolan, these are my people and they are now yours as well."

Gix nodded to them. Kyra continued. "Gix was one of the best combat psykers of his class and he got the usual training of budding inquisitors. I am sure I don't have to go into detail about that. Jolan, each and every member of my staff does his or her job to the standards which the inquisition sets. I suggest that you get to know them and appreciate them as I do. Now, what's the soup course?"

-------------------------------------------

Jolan picked up a slug thrower and examined it. Compact, high calibre, large magazine, probably high rate of fire. He examined a magazine stored near it. Large, pistol type bullets. Close quarters weapon. He put it back and reached for a longer barrelled weapon.

"Getting a feel for the armoury?" said a voice behind him. He turned to see Calidan Vils standing in the doorway. "Yes," responded Jolan. "Nice selection of weapons here and I haven't even gotten to the exotics."

"That there is. Usually don't need them. Las and slug weapons handle most problems just fine and most of the rest can be handled with a knife or a sap. Still, it's nice to know you've got the backup when you need it."


"Hmm," said Jolan in an non commental manner as he searched through handguns. He selected two and walked over to the range. He flicked on the warning light, activated the holotargets, and put on goggles and sound blockers. Vils followed him.

Jolan raised the slug thrower and fired. The target was set at twenty meters. Jolan emptied the magazine into the target's torso. He set it for a new tally and raised the las. He quickly emptied the power cell into the target's head and chest. He switched off the firing warning and activated the display. He took off the safety equipment and looked.

Every shot had hit. The torso of the target had been peppered, with a noticable concentration of hits closer to the center. The las shots were noticably even more concentrated. "Not bad," said Calidan. "Especially with that bitch," he said, gesturing to the slug thrower.

It was a 10mm automatic that fired a high velocity round. It performed quite well against armour, especially with specialty AP rounds. Jolan hadn't missed with a single shot with either weapon. It wasn't anything to boast of by the standards he had been trained with. The better shots in his class would have gone for head shots with stubber and gotten them. Jolan shrugged. "It'll get the job done."

Vils gave him a wintery smile. "Look my friend, it's nice to know that you can shoot and all that but you've got big shoes to fill. You've never done field work and Maladar may have been a son of an ork, but he carried the weight of three people easy. So, until you prove yourself, we're going to watch you like a hawk."

"I know," said Gix. "I won't tell you not to worry. To you I am an unproven element that you're going to have to go with a dangerous situation with. But don't let it interfere with your job. I will carry off my end. Make sure you carry yours."

[Imperial Overlord]

The Navy officer turned back to them. "So up to here, everything was normal. And then we opened this hatch and well, we kicked it up to you after getting a good look. Brace yourselves. It isn't pretty." The young lieutenant spun the wheel, unlocking the hatch. With a grunt he pulled it open.

Yvarine stepped through first. The stocky veteran cautiously advanced, a shotcannon held in his hands. Melissandra twittered nervously in her armoured overall. Kyra stepped through confidently. "Come on," she said.

Jolan took a deep breath. This was his first investigation. He wore a stark black uniform with an Inquisition insignia. He was armed with the combat blade, stubber, and laspistol he had previously selected. He stepped through the threshold.

It was bad, but his nose had already told him that. Corpses were sprawled through the room and the floor was crusty with dried blood. The bodies were torn, as if by wild animals. Underneath the gore, some of them wore the recognizable remnants of crew unforms. Jolan looked around. "No signs of weapons."

"Correct," said Recket. "Whoever did this took their weapons. The crews' I mean."

"No," said Jolan. "These wounds weren't caused by weapons or even genestealer's claws. They tore each other apart."

"Correct," said Inquisitor Neven.

"Score one for the rookie," said Yvarine. Melissandra fluttered at the edge of the room.

"Now," continued Kyra, "what caused these men and women to fall on each others with their bare hands? Not one of them even tried to use a weapon, not even a wrench. Even frenzon doesn't cause this. I believe we have quite a job in front of us."

[Imperial Overlord]

Auspexes hummed as they swept the derelict freighter. A squad of heavily armed Naval Security troopers accompanied them, along with a team of technical specialists. Inquisitor Neven personally oversaw the work of the Adeptus Mechanicus trained personel. Every nook and cranny, every alcove and niche, was searched and scanned. Jolan observed the whole process. The inquisitor was going about the task using her perfered methods, but Jolan could tell that they weren't going to produce any results. At least, any results that she would want.

The scan came up empty. So did the physical search. The next step was to bring in even more team members and to begin to tear the ship apart. It was now or never. Jolan stepped towards his superior. "Inquisitor, might I have a word with you?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Of course," she replied and stepped away from the group. Jolan followed her.

"It isn't my intention to criticise your methods or undermine your authority, but I don't feel that this particular method of searching will be particularily productive in this case."

Her face was almost impassive. A man who was less observant would have missed the slight upward twitch of her lips or the momentarily widening of her eyes. Combined with the rest of her body language, it meant that she wasn't displeased. Unless she was skilled enough to send such subtle and deliberately misleading signals. A Callidus Assassin was that good. A senior inquisitor . . . . could very well be that good. "What alternate method do you suggest, Interrogator Gix?"

"Psychic sweep, inquisitor. With no detectable chemical residue, some kind of psychic or warp activity is the most likely cause of this. . . .aberation. We should scry for traces."

"I concur. Melissandra is somewhat skilled in that area. Your own file mentions that you are not completely untalented in that area. Conduct the sceance as you see fit."

[Imperial Overlord]

Jolan sat down cross-legged next to the slaughter scene. Melssandra was nervously laying down cards from the Imperial Tarot down on the deck. She was fidgeting. She didn't read them, but they helped settle her for her visions. She rubbed her hands together and sat down, looking everywhere but at the slaughter across the room.

Power began to spill from the psyker as she tapped into the warp. Jolan extended his perceptions and slipped into the stream with Melissandra. Time did not flow the same way in the warp and traces of events remainded imprinted their for those who could find them.

Violent currents buffeted the psyker's souls as Melissandra swam back through the currents towards the past. A pulshing core awaited them, undoubtedly the event itself. Melissandra hesitated at the peripherary of the dark event. A massive current suddenly pushed out, washing over both psykers.

They saw a bloody crewman chasing a wounded man into the room. The attacker was caked in gore, his hands twisted into talons. He fell on the wounded man, tearing and ripping at him. The wounded man struck at him with his fists and feet, but the other seemed insensitive to the blows. Other gore streaked crewmen followed in. They surrounded the wounded man and tore him apart with their bare hands.

Then they turned on each other. They bit and clawed and chewed, fighting like wild beasts. They fought on after being mortally wounded, falling only their hearts stopped beating the last bit of blood out their bodies. The winner lasted only moments longer than his last victim. As he fell, a shiny glass marble fell out of his pocket and rolled into a pool of gore. It dissolved, as did the vision.

Jolan blinked and looked around. Melissandra had gotten up. Her fingers curled like cat's claws and madness blazed in her eyes.

[Imperial Overlord]

The psyker lunged, hands outstreached. Jolan instinctively lashed out with a telekinetic blast. Blue light flashed as he batted the Melissandra to the floor. Jolan sprang to his feet as Melissandra flipped back onto her feet. He struck again, but she deflected the blast in a flash of power. Tarot cards fluttered into the air in the aftermath of the clash.

Jolan struck her hard in the solar plexus. She should've dropped. Melissandra was unfazed and gripped his upper arms. Jolan broke her grasp before she tore chunks of flesh out of his arms. He fell back, fending off a rake aimed at his eyes and twisting to avoid a groin strike.

Recket smashed her in the back of the head with his las carbine. The psyker staggered and turned on the Guard veteran. He butt stroked her in the midriff and she folded momentarily. And then she straightened and tore at his groin. Recket backpeddled frantically and reversed his grip on his weapon.

Jolan put a las pulse into her left shoulder and right lung. She coughed, but kept coming, her left arm still striking forward to grip the barrel of Yvarine's carbine. He other hand crawled at his visor. Jolan shot her point blank at the base of the spine and her legs collapsed under her.

Yvarine kneed her in the face, knocking her back freeing himself from her grip. The enforcer backed away and raised his weapon. Jolan raised his hand as he took a step back. Green fire erupted around Melissandra. She did not burn. A blue glue outlined her body as waves of heat eminated from her blazing body.

Then the glow faded in a flash. Her body was reduced to a blackened mannequin in an instant. She fell to the ground, dead.

---------------------------------------------------------

Calidan dropped a strongbox on the desk and backed away. "I guess these are the culprets. They don't seem to be active at the moment."

Jolan approached the box. "They are psychoactive. A soul, like yours," he said looking at Calidan, "provides the spark that activates it. It then acts as a conductor to a warp entity. It exposes the user to being influenced and eventual possession. It probably begins with projecting feelings of power, confindence, or ecstacy. The warp entity gains more power over the user as he uses the bauble more and more."

"The one that was used must have been connected to a daemon of Khorne, or something similar. It was almost able to manifest fully. When Melissandra and I chased it back, it was able to take her. She wasn't strong enough to resist."

Kyra nodded. "Excellent work, interrogator. It stands to reason that these were to be sold as luxury items to the wealthy and powerful. Someone got greedy and tried one, with the results we see here. Disposal of these will be easy. The real question is where did these come from?"

"The Eye," muttered Calidan.

"Probably," said Kyra. "But how do they get into the hands of these free traders? And how many more of them are out there"

[Imperial Overlord]

Calidan Vils sprayed autopistol fire into the room and ducked back behind the doorway. "Proximus," he yelled in Cryptia, the secret language of Inquisitor Nevan as he bounced a grenade back into the room. Two seconds latter it exploded, sending shrapnel through the doorway. Jolan Gix, crouching on the other side of the doorway, went low. He snapped las bolts into the room.

Vils went high, going for supression fire. Two dead men lay on the floor as Vils put rounds into the opposite doorway. "Via!" yelled Gix as he fired into the doorway. Vils leapt to Gix side and they both ran down the corridor.

There was trouble ahead. The men at the bar had heard the gunfire of the deal going sour in the back room. The huge barkeep, a heavy g worlder just small enough not be classified as an Ogryn, whipped a combat shotgun out from beneath the bar. The big weapon looked like a child's toy in his hands. A bouncer at the door had drawn a handgun and another had ducked into a booth on the opposite side. Something metallic glinted in his hands.

Vils didn't hesitate. He placed a burst in the bartender's head. The hollow points blew out the back of his skull. The bounty hunter was moving even as the bartender fell. Rounds cracked around him, but failed to connect.

Gix charged ahead, firing at the shooter in the booth. Las bolts drove the shooter back into cover as Vils fired at the bouncer in the door. The bounty hunter missed and dived into a booth to reload as wild return fire struck around him.

Gix burned open the bouncer's skull at point blank range. He turned and raised his stubber and fired at back the way he had came to discourage pursuit. Ragged return fire answered him. A slug took him in the chest and he grunted as it impacted on his armour.

The bouncer at the door fired on him. Several bullets missed, one took him in the shoulder. Gix pulsed las bolts back and advanced as he fired blindly at their pursuers with his off hand. One bolt struck the bouncer on his right forarm, burning through to the bone and blasting it open as the water in his tissues exploded into steam. The bouncer screamed and dropped the gun. Gix shot him twice in the torse and then in the head as he advanced on the door. The stubber in his other hand clicked noisely as the interrogator pulled the trigger on an empty magazine.

Bullets flew back at the interrogator. One struck him in the chest, causing him to grunt. One took him in the right thigh and the interrogator nearly fell as blood streamed from the wound. He fired las bolts back as Calidan Vil chucked another grenade at their attackers and hosed the area with autofire. The bounty hunter darted across the room and towards the exit.

Gix covered him. Calidan hurtled another grenade and reloaded. Then he saw Jolan's wound. "Emperor's Teeth," he swore. "Can you run?"

Jolan grimiced. "No, but I won't have to. Give me a grenade." The bounty hunter tossed him one. The psyker activated it and it zipped like a hornet straight towards their attackers and detonated. "Another." Jolan ordered. Vils complied. It went the same place as the first one. "I think I can make it now."

"Yeah, but lets try to make good time," said the bounty hunter. "And for the record, you were right about the passwords. I think they might have been wrong.'

"You think you might have been wrong?"

"Well, they are crimminals. The passwords could have been right and they just decided it would be easier to kill us and take the money."

[Imperial Overlord]

Articulared arms closed around the crime lord. Some scanned him, others injected drugs. Others burned, or bored, or manipulated nerves. He screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Answers spewed from his lips, a froth of truths, half-truths, lies, and speculations. Cogitators in the room were relayed those answers and matched them against other information. Matches were made, lies detected, paths of inquiry noted. The machine projected the data directly into the interrogator's brain using an display based on Space Marine autosenses.

The interrogator continued. Lies were punished with even more agony. Drug levels were adjusted. Question were reasked. New ones were whispered. New tool arms curled into position. New torments applied. Flesh was rent and senses distorted. The interrogator pressed on.

The victim was trapped in a timeless hell. His own sense of identity was lost as it was peeled from him with the ruthlessness of a spider. The interrogator pressed on, the cogitators recorded and processed new answers. Finally, the body failed under the stress. He was revived and left hanging for another session. He would need to recover some of his strength. Jolan Gix left the room.

----------------------------------------------------------

The interrogator slid curled his toes on the fur carpet. He wore heavy brocade robe lined with mink and his skin was still wet from the shower. It felt good to be removed from the clausterphobic nightmare of the interrogation cell. Across the room, Kyra waited. She was wearing a loose maroon robe. A regicide board sat on the table before her. "Join me," she said.

Jolan sat down opposite of her. "A hard session," she continued. "How did it go?"

"It was productive. We have a good list to begin. A lot of points match up."

"Good," she said as she made her opening move. "It's also good that you switched methods of investigation when your first one wasn't working."

Jolan shrugged and made his move. "You don't like torture much, do you?" she asked.

"I'm good at it," he responded. "It doesn't matter if I like it. It matters if I do it when it's appropriate and if it gets results."

Kyra smiled. "True." She made another move. "It's been . . . .what about a year?"

"Thirteen months," Jolan replied. "As you well know." He studied the board.

"You've shown your metal in that time. You've made mistakes, but those are important to make. The real test is how you react to those mistakes. Some think they need to become tougher, more ruthless."

"I'm ruthless enough," he replied. He moved a piece forward. It wasn't a traditional counter. Kyra eyed the board carefully.

"Yes, you are. You didn't respond to challenges with bravado, but with cunning. You didn't try to become tougher, but better." She moved a different piece.

He looked at her. She looked her student straight in the eye. "Do you know who does this job well, Jolan Gix? Do you know who should do this job?"

"You seem to have the answer."

"So do you. I want to hear yours."

"No one is good enough at this job."

Kyra smiled. "That's right. No one is good enough. Not even the Emperor is good enough. You've seen the real histories. You've seen all the warnings that there was something wrong with the Primarchs. And did he act well? If he was an inquisitor and not the Emperor would you say he handled the situation well?"

Jolan's jaw worked. He was silent. "No," he finally replied.

"Yes. We do an impossible job. A job that must be done. We err. We fail. We flail around blindly way out of our depth. And hope we do the job well enough that it makes the difference. To truly be an inquisitor, one must understand how inadequate you are to the task. But the task must be done and if an inquisitor is inadequate, how much worse will anyone else be? So we must do it."

Jolan's jaw clenched. "The implications-"

"Yes," she replied. "It takes a while for most inquisitors to figure this out, let alone to be ready for this, but you are. The highest duty of an inquisitor is to purge the unworthy from our ranks. The brutal thugs that think all problems are nails and that the solution to everything is a hammer. Those who loose sight of the goal in search of the means to accomplish it. Those who are rigidly doctrinarians and who will not bend, not matter how much will be accomplished. The spiritual deviates who have bent too far and are loyaler to esoteric philosophies and strange plans than the Imperium itself. Those who have been corrupted by power so that they believe what is good for them is good for the Imperium. These are among the most serious threats the Imperium faces. And thus you know the Inquisition's most carefully kept secret. We war against ourselves."

"I suspected as much. Not that it was this bad, but in Schola the expected answer was always the right answer. Sometimes that meant being rigidly doctrinare, sometimes that meant being flexible. And you had to know when to be which."

"Yes. The war happens at all levels, although few understand it to actually be a war. Most don't percieve enough of it to really see it as anything other than a series of philosophical debates that occassionally lead to heresy. But you do, Jolan."

"Why tell me now?"

"Because I have seen you are ready to hear it. I've trained seventeen interrogators of which eleven have become inquisitors. I've had this talk with six of them. You'll make seven. Including yourself, four live."

"You're part of a faction."

"In a way," she replied. "And you have been a part of a faction since you came to Schola. But the question remains, are you an ignorant pawn or a regent?"

[Imperial Overlord]

The giant strode through the vast hall, imperivious to the sights before him. Although he was not Astartes, he could easily be mistaken for one such was his stature. A burgundy robe pocked with burn holes shrouded oil slick black powered armour. The armour was not that on the Astartes, but marked with the gold seals of the Inquisition.

The grand hall was stewn with bodies. Some shredded by bolter fire, others crushed, blasted open, incinerated, or blasted open by las fire. There were hundreds of bodies. Many had died at the inquisitor's hand.

The black armoured storm troopers that stood at the gilded door let two humans enter. Kyra Neven and Jolan Gix entered, long coats swirling over armoured body gloves. The stentch of day old corpses did not appear to faze Inquisitor Neven. Interrogator Gix seemed to slip from olive coloured to green.

The massive inquisitor removed his helmet, revealing the horror that was his face. Both inquisitors started at the sight. Ravaged, cicatrice covered skin covered his skull. Gold sutures held seams together. Cold, unfeeling eyes peered from the mask of his face.

"Kyra, it is a pleasure to see you again," the inquisitor said in a smooth baritone.

"Maladar, this is my new interrogator Jolan Gix." She gestured at the room. "Heavy handed as always."

"It works. But I encountered something interesting. I need your expertise."

"You've peaked my curiousity."

"I've left the seen undisturbed so not to taint your inquiry."

"Other than the massacre and the rotting."

Massive shoulders shrugged. "Just because you perfer to sneak around first and massacre second, doesn't mean I have to do it that way." The huge man strode to a single body. He pulled the cowl away. A tattoo was revealed. "Recognize this?"

Kyra knelt. "Yes, that's it. After all these years, he was here."

"I thought so. How do you wish to proceed?"

"You always made a good beater. I'll be waiting when you flush the game."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"There is history between you and this cult magos," said Jolan.

Kyra was silent for a moment. "There is a kind of fear you do not know. It is the fear of blunt confronted by a psyker strong enough to discard you like a toy. He killed my tean and tossed me down an lift shaft. It took two years and the best augmentics from Mars for me two recover from the damage. His cult has popped up on several far scattered worlds, always found after he has left and the damage has been done. Since that day I have always carried Hexagrammic wards and made sure that I have a powerful psyker on my staff. You're my insurance against that ever happening again."

"And Maladar?"

"My chief student before you. And my psychic shield and sword before you. His appearance, that is something new but his brutality and directness are the same old Maladar."

"And where does he fall on your list?"

"One who is an asset. He realizes there are other valid methods. He just sticks with the ones he likes."

[Imperial Overlord]

The troopers hit the room firing. The ragged band of cultists took cover behind the gallery's pillars and returned fire with sluggers and autoguns. Imperial fireteams leap frogged forward, firing as they came. Cultists fell, spilling blood on the floor as their bodies were blown open. Behind the soldiers of the Imperium came Kyra Neven and her retinue.

Yvarine Recket weilded a heavy calibre, drum fed autogun. He sprayed pillars with heavy fire, blasting chunks out of them and covering their advance. Vils stalked near him, pulsing las bolts across the long hall. To exit the hall and reach the star port pad beyond, the cultists would have to break cover. And then they would be Vils' meat.

A pulsing mist coalesced in the center of the room. It was a mix of softly glowing lime and cyan clouds. It drifted towards the imperials. It enveloped one man and he stood blinking, oblivious to his surroundings. A burst of gun fire tore open his face and he fell.

The clould shimmered and halted. Swirling bands of cobalt light surrounded the cloud, binding it in place. Jolan Gix bared his teeth. "I can't hold this for ever!"

Kyra ran up the side of the gallery with the speed of a championship sprinter, her coat trailing behind her. Recket followed behind her, autogun barking. Bullets flew around them, one splattering itself her ceremite breastplate.

The long barrelled bolt pistol in her hand blew open the chest of a cultist and drove two others back into cover. A cultist partially emerged and a burst from her bolt pistol severed his right arm just below the shoulder. He fell screaming. She could see Keranor before her, shrouded by a haze of pastel colours.

She ejected the clip and reached for one of the clips of psk out rounds. A huge bearded man lunged at her from the behind a nearby pillar, knocking the bolter out of her hand and carrying her to the floor. He had forty centimeters and at least fifty kilos on her and was on top to boot.

She through him off and sprung to her feet. She didn't bother reaching for her powerblade. The giant was regaining his feet. She shattered his jaw with her fist, crushed his sternum with a second blow, and stove in the left side of his chest with a finishing kick before he hit the ground.

She scooped up her bolter and caught a bright flash out of the corner of her eye. She straightened to see Kerandar surrounded by eldritch flames. The swirling pastel haze contracted under the pressure of the the hellish flames. She fired. The psyk out rounds blew open the magos' chest in a spray of blood, bone, and visceria. A split second latter and he was burning. It seemed that Jolan Gix could do more than hold the cloud.

[Imperial Overlord]

Maladar walked past through the perimeter of armed guards around the courthouse. They acknowledged his authority and let him through the edifice of Imperial law and authority. A junior arbites showed him down long, dark starcases illuminated by holo torches. In these ancient and inaccessable precincts, he found Kyra Neven.

The inquisitor turned and smiled. "Maladar, good to see you."

Maladar nodded. "I heard you got him."

Kyra smiled. "Yes. He was-" she was interrupted by a door sliding open. Jolan Gix walked through, his coat splattered with blood. His posture was firm, resolute. Kyra continued, "barely able to hold of interrogator Gix. I can't say if he would have won the fight, because I shot him before it was over."

Maladar's gaze drifted over the interrogator. He had seemed unspectacular when he had first seen him, without the power and presence that Maladar always found with inquisitors and those interrogators who made the cut. But to fight Kerandar was no easy task and here he stood, a meek and obediant subordinate. With blood all over him.

"Jolan?" Kyra asked.

"He won't give anything up under pain so far. I think he's been conditioned. So I've got the machine dosing him. With some suggestability drugs in his system, he might give something up after being sufficiently disoreintated and confused. And if that doesn't work, we can take him apart in full view of the other prisoner. We do it messily and slowly enough, his own fears might break him."

"Good," replied Kyra.

"Pity about Kerandar," Jolan said. "I would have liked to plumb his secrets. But at least he is no longer a problem."

A watcher. One who gathers information before striking. Maladar had mistaken Jolan's ability to fade into the background as docility. This one prefered to strike from shadows, prefered the cunning plan to the direct assault. But he did not shirk from a fight, according to Calidan Vils.

Maladar turned his awful gaze upon the young interrogator. Gix's posture signaled submission, a signal that was unmistakeble to a trained inquistor. But his gaze was firm. No coward here. Let us see what time makes of Jolan Gix.

[Imperial Overlord]

Jolan arced through the air, twisting and turning for ten meters, before he hit the water. He shot down through the pools depths, kicking towards the surface. A few powerful strokes took him to the side of the pool. He pulled himself out with a single surge.

"Nice," said Calidan Vils. He tossed the interrogator a towel. The bounty hunter was lounging on a chair, with bottles of three different kinds of alcohol beside him. The sunlight coming through the armoured glass made the pool house oppressively warm, but Jolan liked the heat. Sometimes he felt that he had spent most of his life being cold. The cells under the governor's palace, the Black Ship, and the Schola had been cool at best.

Jolan shrugged. "Lots of gymnastic training. I didn't have a bruiser's build, so my training emphasized speed and training." And a lot of intense weight training. Life and death struggle was a given for an inquisitor's life and the Schola had done its best to prepare its student for that reality. "I have to say-"

A beeping interrupted him. It was the com sitting by his chair. Jolan strode over to it and picked it up. Kyra's voice came through. "Iron Lady covets Pupil."

He hadn't mastered Cryptia yet. Kyra used it a lot to as a means of encouragment. "Pupil via Iron Lady. Time suspended, the holding of breath."

He walked out of the pool house down the long carpeted corridors to his quarters. He changed out of his swimming trunks and into heavy weave trousers and tunic. He slipped on a pair of comfortable shoes and headed towards the stairs to the sanctum.

His hand print and a secondary code opened the armoured door to him. The series of secret rooms contain Kyra's most secure secrets. The holo table in front of him displayed a vast nework of stars floating in mid air. Glowing red and green lines formed tangled paths of connections.

"You've been working on the pattern," he said. Kyra looked up. She wore on her usual armoured body gloves. She would be willing to wear the most revealing fashions or the grubbiest coveralls if necessary, but her preference was for business like functional garb. Jolan followed suit.

She looked up at him and said nothing. Jolan switched to Cryptia. "Iron Lady stalks the web." She nodded. And pointed to a star. Then she spoke in High Gothic. "An intersection of routes. Not only our ship, but that of another. And the trail of a chaos cult exterminated by Maladar last year."

"A recently reclaimed world," said Jolan consulting the data displayed on the tables matte finish. "Wasn't it cleansed?"

"Yes, but the inquisitor assigned to the planet died in the taking of its capital. Arbites and Guard gave the capital a thourough screening and their have been no additional incidents."

"That we know of."

"Yes, and the Inquisition has been busy with real problems in this sector."

"Too much work, too few men. So we caught it. I take it we are going to investigate."

"Yes. And one other matter. You are no longer Pupil. You have established yourself as something besides a student. It should have been done earlier, Infernas, but it is done now. We will burn out the Emperor's foes together."

[Imperial Overlord]

Jolan Gix walked down the long halls of the Administerium building. It was a huge edifice of ferrocrete, ceramite, and admantium, less than two decades old. Holopicts of saints and heroes, particularily the heroes of the last crusade, glowed along its walls. The floor was a checkerboard of polished marble and its ceiling was twenty meters above him. Along the sides legions of clerks and minor functionaries processed data and went about the varied tasks of bureaucracy.

Jolan walked up to the appropriate line (having been redirected twice) and waited twenty minutes for the robed acolyte to get to him. Jolan stood, straightened his uniform, and presented his data slate and papers to the clerk. "I am Major Gareth of the Imperial Guard. I have a schedule 7-6B form and an Gamma-3 form here, as per standard protocol."

The clerk looked over the forms. "This is a most unusual request. We don't usually get requests from the Guard about retired soldiers."

Jolan smiled blandly. "Yes, it is. But my request is in order."

"Yes, it is. But why-"

"Need to know. You'll have to file the appropriate papers with the Guard."

[Imperial Overlord]

Hethor pointed on the schematics. "It was right about here." Kyra looked closely at it.

"How sure are you?"

"I'm sure." The big veteran was accutely conscious of the junior officer watching his back. Well, Hethor had dealt with a long line of lieutenants and junior captains in his career. Some of them were almost as bad as Commissars.

The pretty boy tapped the edge of the map. "If you suspect the Imperial Commander has been compromised, he's not just going to let us search the palace without doing something to interfere."

"You think he'll defy the lawful authority of the Inquisition?" Kyra asked innocently.

"Nock it off. We both know 'accidents' happen. And crimminals and heretics might come out of the wood work and suddenly decide to kill us. Or we could simply be delayed while something happens to the site. Or he could have his guard gun us down and then bury the incident."

Well, the pretty boy was smarter than most lieutenants.

Kyra smiled. "You suggestion, Interrogator Gix?"

"We sneak in. Just like you are planning to do." He smiled back. It was a predator's grin.

"The Grand Palace of Illiza is quite a massive structure. All sorts of people have legitimate business being there." Her grin answered his.

[Imperial Overlord]

The four adeptus walked down the long corridor. It had been painstackingly restored to pre-war status with its marble statues of saints and heros, huge stained glass windows, and immaculately polished checkerboard floors. One could not tell that the Grand Promenade had ever taken any damage.

But people still felt there was something wrong. Maybe it was haunted by some of those who fell fighting here, maybe the taint of Chaos had never entirely removed, or mayble it was the minds of men playing tricks. Whatever the cause, the Grand Promenade was deserted at night.

Holo torches on the wall provided some illumination as they marched down the corridor. One of them abruptly stopped in front of a niche.. "Here," said Hethor D'eckor. "Different statue, but this is the place.

"There isn't any room here," Yvarine said in disgust. "Unless it's hidden."

"Wasn't hidden when we took it," Hethor grunted. "Maybe they walled over it."

"No," said Jolan Gix. "There is something here. A psychic residue." He touched the engraving around the wall of th niche. "This one," he said touching an engraved skull. He twisted. The other side of the niche opened.

"Damn, that's slick," Yvarine said. "I didn't see it at all."

Hethor withdrew the shotcannon he was packing under his robes. "I'm ready."

A smile touched Kyra's lips. "By all means, let us proceed."

[Imperial Overlord]

The door silently swung open. Inside was as black as a Dark Eldar's heart. Jolan flashed a beam inside, revealing a large room. He cautiously advanced, Hethor behind him.

The interrogator touched a control inside, causing lights to flicker on overhead. The room was blackened and scortched, the grim testament to the efforts of the cleanse and burn team. Other than a set of shelfs with a few strange lumps the room as an unremarkable square. Kyra followed her pupil in. Yvarine remained outside to cover their rear.

"I was expecting something a little more impressive," Kyra mused. "Jolan, if you would?"

"With pleasure madam," said Gix. He pulled out a particularily arcane auspex and touched several runes. The device hummed and projected several glowing glyphs.

Hethor prowled the room. This place made him uneasy. There was something deeply wrong here, he could feel it. "There's a false floor," Jolan said. "The floor is made of a composite to try to fool scans into thinking its solid underneath."

"Clever," said Kyra. "Now we have to find our way in." Jolan frowned and began examining to floor.

"I don't see it," said the interrogator. "Didn't spare any effort on this one."

"Like the door," said Kyra. "Keep looking. Put those fiendish instruments of yours to good use."

Jolan consulted his devices. He ran another scan. And then another, inches from the floor. "Emperor's Teeth! I can find the joins, but no sign of how to open this thrice-cursed thing up."

Kyra sighed. "Ah well. So much for subtlety." Her voice changed, becoming harsh. "Crack it."

"Everyone stand back," Jolan commanded. After everyone had retreated to the edge of the floor the interrogator extended his hands and pointed at the center of the floor.

The floor exploded silently upwards. The fragments drifted slowly back down to the room beneath like leaves in autumn. The debris settled on the floor. The room had a single set of stairs leading about two and a half meters down. It was bare, except for a complex design now covered by the rubble and a heavy chest.

"Throne," Hethor swore softly.

"Hmm," said Kyra. "A treasure chest. I wonder-" the half buried symbol began to glow. Things began to coalesce beneath them. They were vaguely humanoid, with rough golden skin like a crocodile. Their heads were circled by a crown of horns and their hands were tipped with viscious talons.

Jolan raised his las pistol and shot the closest one to the stairs three times in the chest. The bright white beam burned through its hide and deep into its chest. It didn't faze it. It leaped up the stairs.

Kyra blew it apart with a burst from her psycannon. The pieces began to dissolve into ectoplasmic mist even before they hit the rubble. The death of the first one did not deter the pack. The next two were already on their way up.

Kyra's blew off the arm of the next one at the shoulder before it crashed into her. The inquistor fell back against the wall as the daemon grappled with her. It butted her in the head with its crown of horns and reached towards her throat with its remaining claw.

The third daemon rushed towards Gix. Thunder roared in the confined space as Hethor opened up with the shotcannon. The daemon's hip and thigh were blow open, flew mutilated and bone shattered. The next burst blew its head to pulp. The fourth leaped up at Hethor.

A blazing lance of cyan psychic force intecepted it. The daemon was smashed to floor and blown to ash. Jolan turned towards Kyra.

The inquistor's rebuilt skull and neck withstood the headbutt. With her right hand she caught the daemon's arm at the wrist. With her other she pulled a power blade from under her robe. She stabbed the daemon in the abdomen and yanked up. The blade went through the daemon's chest, opened up daemon's throat, and up into the skull.

Kyra pushed the dissolving corpse to the floor. Bubbling goo covered her robe. She ignored it and strode forward. "Jolan, any psy residue on the chest?" Her voice gave no sign that she had a cut on her forehead and that she had just been in hand to hand combat with a creature of the warp.

"Yes, but it isn't the chest. It's something inside."

She turned off the power blade and handed the ornate dagger to the interrogator. "Crack it."

Jolan thumbed the blade on and stabbed the lock. Gix twisted. Metal screamed as it was torn. With a jerk, Jolan threw the lid open. Inside, hundreds of crystal sphere glittered with a familiar light.

[Imperial Overlord]

The front facade of the Grand Palace exploded, showering the front courtyard with marble fragments. Black armoured Arbites shock troops rushed forward as fighting vehicles raked the palace with autocannon and heavy stubber fire. Jolan Gix turned away from the display. "So, the governor was in on it."

"Probably," replied Kyra. "Either that or his chosen retainers were easily corrupted. Either way its a death sentence." She handed a data slate over to Jolan. "Nice work."

"Thank you. Just a matter of matching data. More trails to check. Interrogation will reveal more avenues of investigation."

She smiled. "You're coming along nicely. What do you think of Sergeant D'eckor?"

"He's good in a fight. Steady, even when those daemons appeared. Uneducated, but not stupid. A lot of valuable battlefield experience. We can use him."

"I agree. And it is preferable to shooting him for knowing too much."

[Imperial Overlord]

The fat man reclined in his chair. He handed the flimsy back to Gix. The seal of the Guilder Bank was displayed prominently in the corner. "Your credit is impeccable Maistre. I am sure we will be able to do business."

"Wonderful," said Gix, drawing out the syllables of the word. The wore a loose fitting crimson robe over a tunic, pants, and shirt. A gold band constrained his hair. The room was boiling hot, but the custom was against climate control in most places. Instead the wealthy wore extra layers of clothes and carried personal cooling units in a display of conspicious consumption. "I am most interested in the exotics produced by your interests," he continued languily. "They should sell very well."

A bronzed servant in a long kilt and sleevless tunic came by with a silver platter. "Some refreshment?" his host asked.

"Delighted." Balancing the platter in one hand, the servant poured with the other, filling two glasses with an amber liquid. He then put the pitcher down on the platter and placed the glasses in front of his betters.

Gix sipped the cool cider made from the pericha fruit. Delicious. A side door opened. A short, tubby man wearing a simple white robe entered. Gix could see the power around him. Apriggo Vanx spoke again. "Maistre Glinn, may I present an associate of mine, Dominus Vain? He is very skilled in these particular-"

Gix wasn't paying attention to his words. Vain wasn't a registered psyker and for that alone he was the Inquisition's prey. He saw Vain's power despite his attempts to conceal it. And Vain new he had been seen. Vain knew also that cells his own cult had distant relationships with had vanished. And he also knew that he did not face a foppish young noble, but a psyker skilled enough to spot him. Jolan only had a few seconds before he reacted.

Throne! I wish I had been able to dig deeper. His hand was already diving for a pistol a he slammed a bolt of telekinetic force at the chaos cultist. Vain staggered, but did not fall. Jolan triggered his vox. "Infernas, the heavens' burning," he cried out in Cryptia. A powerful had gripped his wrist before he could bring his pistol to bear.

Outside Hethor D'eckor reacted. He whipped out his stubber and put two rounds into the face of the guard in front of him, splattering blood and brains over the polished marble floor of the great hall. The other had his gun half drawn when Hethor put two in his chest, dropping him. Another two went into his face as Hethor charged the door. He could hear footsteps echoing behind him. Two bullets past, too close for comfort.

The servant grabbed Jolan by the neck with his other hand and hauled him up. Jolan's cooling suit was armoured against lases, cutting weapons, and projectiles, but wasn't much use against have his throat crushed. A spear of telepathic force tried to break his mind and scatter his thoughts. It shattered on his shields.

He didn't bother stricking the bodyguard-servant. He outweighed Jolan almost two to one and the interrogator didn't have much space to strike. Instead he telekinetically juggle the hellpistol to his other hand. The free one. He blew a whole in the servant's chest, in the general vicinity of his heart. His grip slackened and Jolan freed himself from the dead weight.

Hethor crashed into the room, stubber in his hand. He fired on Vain, but the bullets ricochetted away. A telepathic blast dropped him like steer in a slaughterhouse.

Vain was strong, probably stronger than Gix. But not as well trained, not as disciplined. And Gix's strongest powers had yet to be fielded. The interrogator's eyes glowed with and eldritch light. A volley of hellish green bolts of witch fire leapt from his eyes. Vain stepped back, on the defensive. His defences held as he took a moment to gather strength for a brutal telepathic counter attack designed to burn out the young psyker's mind.

Too late. Gix had hit Vain hard enough to keep him off balance, so Gix could truly bring his full might to bear. Beams of blue-white flame poured from hands. Vain's shields, already battered but holding, failed for a moment. If Vain hadn't been diverting some of his power and attention for a counter attack, they probably would have held. But he did and Gix only needed a moment.

Vain was blasted to ash. The wall behind him blackened. Jolan fell to one knee as the exertion caught up with him. He turned he head towards the door way, where he could hear more guards coming.

Apriggo Vanx struck. He was not strong, swift, or skilled. But he had been forgotten. He struck Jolan in the side of the head with the crystal pitcher, which shattered on impact. Gix hit the floor, blood pouring from lacerations on his cheek and scalp. Then holes were blown open in Vanx's chest and he fell.

Hethor dropped the empty stubber and rolled into the doorway, las pistol in hand. The guards were much closer now. Two fired as they came. Several rounds came close as the veteran rapidly and methodically placed his shots. He killed three and they broke to the side. Hethor dropped a fourth before they left Hethor's field of vision.

He rolled up and out of the way. His head hurt like he had been on the recieving end of an ork boot. No matter. He just had to hold out until help came. Jolan crawled up, getting to hand and knees. He was stripping off the bulky, bloodstained robe. Half of his face was covered in blood. Gix barred his teeth in a wolf's grin and gripped his pistol. Hethor smiled back. A lot of people were going to have a very bad day.

[Imperial Overlord]

Jolan ran his thumb along the scar on his cheek. The surgeon had done a good job of repair, but he would carry this mark to his grave. "It was a bust," he said with disgust.

"Not totally," said Kyra as she placed a glass in front of him. "Drink up. We cleaned out a nest of heretics. Still a win."

"We didn't crack the network," said said with disgust. "They'll continue to move around and go to ground. We lost an opportunity."

"We haven't given up yet," Kyra said. "And we have far much information of their past activities. A lot of leads to run down. Some of them will bear fruit. Patience, Jolan. You aren't even thirty yet. We're tearing up cults that have been in operation for decades. In this little war at least, we're winning. Now drink up."

[Imperial Overlord]

Alexos watched his guests drink and debauch themselves. The vaulted chambered was packed, as befited one of his parties. Three groups of dancers, bathed in multicoloured lights, moved in through various sexual positions. Richly dressed nobles sucked on hookas, snorted powders, or dranks intoxicants of one kind or another. Some were engaging in sexual acts with their paramours or peers.

Alexos accepted greetings and congradulations from his guests. Hands patted him, lips touched him. He smiled and moved on. His master would be very pleased and soon Alexos would be promoted to the next circle. Already he had been marked, although not in a way most would notice. It was a most useful sign of favor and it would-

Well, well, well. What was this? The beautiful gutter morsel Anjun Chou was here, which wasn't unusual. But the gorgeous stranger with him was. He was a dark haired, handsome man wearing crimson and ebony silks. His hair was unusually dark for a hive dweller. Chou put his hand on the stranger's shoulder and whispered something into his ear.

Alexos walked toward them, swatting away a hand that gropped at his crotch. The stranger smiled. He had a scar on his left cheek. "Alexos!" Anjun called out.

"Who is this tasty dish?" Alexos asked.

"This is Jeslen. He's from off world. He's interested in a good time and of course I thought of you."

Jeslen extended his hand. "Nice party," he said.

"Thank you. Where are you from?"

"Zrenka. My family is the second largest stake holder in the Straker Combine. Nearly a third of our beasts end up on the tables on this world."

"How fascinating," Alexos lied.

"Peasant work. It's as dull as all hell. But the money comes in useful when one is looking for amusement."

"Well, you've come to the right place," replied Alexos. It would take him two nights tops to get this tasty treat into his bed. He gave Chou a covert signal. Chou was taken aback for a moment and replied. Between his charms, the aphrodesiac musk that his perfume helped conceal, and drugs from Chou he would Jeslen into his bed willingly or not.

"I can see I have," replied Jolan Gix.

[Imperial Overlord]

"Don't drink anymore," Chou hissed in Jolan's ear. The interrogator smiled at the next party goer and nodded.

"Why not," he replied.

"Alexos is going to try to drug you if you play hard to get," Chou hissed back. He didn't much like the inquisitor or her lacky, but he had a very good idea of what would happen to Anjun Chou's one and only arse if anything happened to Jolan Gix. The thug Hethor had given him a quick tour of the autorack and that had been enough to give him nightmares. Inquisitors didn't have a reputation for being forgiving.

Jolan smiled and waved. He put an arm around Chou's shoulder and dragged him to a darkened corner. "How unpleasant of him," he replied. Jolan through himself down on a mound of cushions and dragged Chou down with him. "I suppose I can stall him by claiming voyeurism is my thing, but not for very long. How soon until he introduces me to his friends."

"A lot of them are here. As for the rest, I don't know. I've been to a few of his secret parties and they do these weird ritual things, but I don't see anything really heretical."

"You know names?"

"No. Everyone wears masks and these strange robes that expose half of your chest. Not that those stay on too long."

"Do the masks come off as well."

"A few times. I recognized a few people, Alexos's close friends." He saw the look on Jolan Gix's face. He was smiling like a shark. "What is it?"

"I'm going to give Alexos what he wants."

[Imperial Overlord]

The young noble screamed as the arms of the autorack closed around him. Jolan Gix smiled and turned to Kyra. "I don't think this is what he had in mind when I suggest we go to my lodgings."

The inquisitor smiled. "Hmm. You may be right about that." She touched several runes. Nerve inductors around his toes sent the sensation of his flesh being seared off into his central nervous system. "Torture is often ineffective against Slaaneshi."

"Only the most deeply warped are that resistant. This one might be corrupt, his pain threshhold is certainly high, but he certainly isn't screaming in pleasure. No, we'll brake him soon. Alternating stimulai combined with drugs and rest intervals will make him pliable."

Anjun Chou leaned in the corner, wanting to vomit. Alexos hadn't really been a friend, but he had betrayed him to torture easily enough. What the inquisitor was doing was unspeakable. No one deserved this.

Gix turned his head. "Chou, he won't be missed right?"

Anjun's throat felt dry and raspy. He swallowed. "Yeah. They'll assume he's on a long bender. His servants know he left with you. But if he's not back in a couple of days . . . ."

"He'll be broken by then. On the off chance he isn't, we'll make something up."

Chou swallowed. The inquisitor and her protegee went back to discussing torture methods. Anjun wanted to get out of this hell. The trick would be how to do it. He had a feeling the moment he wasn't useful, the inquisitor was going to put a bullet into the back of his skull and consider another loose end tied up.

[Imperial Overlord]

Anjun was working his through a decanter of amnasec under the cold gaze of Calidan Vils when Jolan Gix burst into the room. He wore an equipment harness over his blood streaked body glove. He face was twisted in barely controlled fury. Anjun shrank back.

"Why didn't you mention him before?!" Gix yelled. Chou backed up over the couch in terror. An invisible force slammed him against the wall and pinned him like a bug. Gix strode over to him. The interrogator was walking through air. Jolan's merciless glare was inches from face. "Is it true?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Anjun babbled. "I don't know you think I did!"

"Karl Vallec," growled Jolan.

"He came to some of the parties," Chou blurted. "Lots of up stack people go."

"Alexos said that Vallec was the one who brought him in."

"I don't know anything about that. I didn't see him at that cult thing. Please!"

Gix stared at him intently a moment. Then the force let go and Chou slumped to the floor.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Karl Vallec?" Kyra asked. "As in-"

"Yes. Eldest son and heir of Imperial Commander Azlan Vallec. According to Vils and Chou, the rumour mill has it that Karl kidnaps, rapes, and kills with impunity."

"If this comes out, the Vallec's can kiss their position good bye, if anyone of them manage to survive. So we can forget about local cooperation."

"What about the Arbites?" Jolan asked.

Kyra shook her head. "They might act, but the PDF outnumbers them and the commander's palace is a fortress. We can't important substantial forces from off world and if we can get local commanders to come on board, the attack plan will probably leak. Civil War on a subsector capital and industrialized system. The cost in lives and material will be immense, but better by far than letting this world fall to the Arch-Enemy."

Jolan taped the holo table. "I'm beginning to have an idea. There might be another way."

[Imperial Overlord]

"You recognize this ring, right?" said Anjun Chou with more than a little exasperation in his voice. "Prince Vallec will want to see me. Let him, or his valet know. It's urgent."

The board looking guard recognized the ring. The Serenten's were prominent and the crest seemed authentic. The man wore flash clothes, but the one behind him wore a lifetime's worth of wages in his outer layers. The odds were good that they had juice. And if he made their lives difficult, they could send it back ten times worse. Screw it. It was the valet's job to make these kinds of decisions. He keyed the com.

"What is it?" snarled Grasso Lymk.

"A man requesting audience with the prince. He has a Serenten seal."

"Put him on screen, dolt." The guard gestured Anjun Chou forward.

Chou held up the ring. "Alexos Serenten sent me. It's urgent."

"What is it?" growled Lymk.

"Nothing your master wants discussed openly."

"All right," grouched Lymk. "Let them in."

-------------------------------------------------------

The strode down a long floor of polished marble. Gilded gargoyles looked down on them as they entered a brass lift cage. Suspensor motors in the cage floor lifted them up while holo projectors created illusion of forests that had been dead for five millenia. Chou fidgeted. Jolan Gix wasn't calm.

Chou had surrendered his gun at the entrance, along with his knives. He had been surprised that Gix had let him bring them, until he gave them up. The weapon scanners had only found the slim barrelled las that Gix had surrendered. Chou wondered why the interrogator was willing to go into the enemy's layer unarmed. Unless he had something really slick, so slick the sensors couldn't find it.

The lift came to a stop. Jolan and Chou were lead down a carpeted hall by a silver bodies servator that had been cast in the shape of an ancient hag. The servator lead them down a junction a took a side corridor. Anjun's jaw dropped. He stopped and stared.

The corridor's wall were transparent vitria. Outside dark clouds swirled in a murky green half light. Hell red lightning flashed between them as they clashed against one another. Below them was the dark, turreted mass of the hive. It was a diseased, cancerous mass piled higher and higher. Anjun's knees felt weak.

Jolan pushed him forward. At the other end of this enclosed bridge lay Karl Vallec's spire. The young prince had thousands of lives as his personal playthings and bodyguards sufficiently callous that they could serve such a monstrous master. Here his power as an agent of the inquisition was nothing and a slave of darkness was ruler of his own private hell. Two guards were ahead, faceless in their rebreather masked helms. A great ceramite slab carved with hideous faces slid open and Jolan Gix stepped in.

[Imperial Overlord]

A guard wearing a bronze groin guard, heavy boots and gloves, and a leather harness lead the two men down the corridor. It was uncomfortably warm here and the carpet was a thick shag. Holos of dominant men triumphant over reclining or defeated beasts line the walls. Two rouged, naked girls past them going the other way. They wore control collars around their necks with drug injectors. The guard touched a keypad on the wall. "They are here, lord."

"Send them in," came the reply.

Jolan Gix walked in and Anjun Chou trailed behind him. The valet's office was a marked contrast to the hedonistic display of the rest of the spire. It was simple and comfortable. The valet, a dark haired, sallow man who's hair was just slightly frosted with white, sat in a chair in front of a chrome cogitator screen. "You said it was important," he said.

On thousands of worlds of the Imperium a valet was just a personal servant, but Lymk was obviously more than that. After all, someone had to manage Karl Vallec's personal affairs while he was busy raping minor nobles or hunting people for sport.

"Private business with your master," Jolan Gix replied. Lymk's eyes narrowed. Jolan raised his hand and triggered his electoo. An image apeared to writhe and twist on his palm. It was a tangled mass of naked bodies, each one a different colour so that the debauched acts that were taking place could more easily be recognized. The interrogator closed his fist. "Do you understand."

"Ahh, yes. He is . . . busy at the moment," Lymk replied. "He will not like to be disturbed. I can, of course, offer the hospitality of his servants." He rubbed his hands together and displayed an oily smile "Would you like a girl or boy? Perhaps both?"

Gix wet his lips and then pouted. "You mean he would object to us joining him?"

"His highness is very particular about his pleasures and it is his business who he invites to share them with."

"Pity," replied Gix. "There are a few items I wish to show the noble prince. They are, hmmmm, exotic. Yes, exotic. Regular inspection might be, hmmmm, troublesome."

"I believe I can help you with that," replied Lymk with a broad smile. "His highness is always interested in new diversions.

"Excellent,' replied Jolan Gix as he shot him with the digital needler. Lymk convulsed and froze as the interrogator walked forward. The psyker unceremoniously pushed the valet out of his chair and examined the cogitator. Smiling, he sat down and began to type.

-----------------------------------------------

He sent an message authorizing the landing of several lifter barges that would shortly be enroute and then tapped into the palace's comm traffic to give the innocious sounding go signal. Everythng was in going fairly smoothly. He searched the valet's desk and found a slim barrelled las with ivory grips. The barrel was embossed with gold leaf in the form of clinging thorns. He pocketed the gun and administered the counter agent to the valet after searching him. And then he injected him with another drug, one to enhance suggestability.

"You are in it deep," Jolan Gix said. "I represent the Inquisition and your master is a member of a prescribed cult. And you've been helping him. The minimum senteance is death, unless the Inquisition can find a better use for you."

The valet's eyes narrowed and he slowly moved to a sitting position. "You run your master's household, which is part of the Commander's palace," Gix said. "I want the codes to the palace security system."

"You're just going to kill me anyway," Lymk responded.

"You are a dead man unless you start climbing your way out of the pit you've dug," Gix replied. "Start making this easier on both of us."

"All right," Lymk said, shoulder's slumped. "Beta - seven - gamma - nine - six - six - kappa allows command of the security system. The prince, the commander, and the seneshal all possess override codes though."

Jolan examined the man carefully. Lymk had displayed strong cues from his body language and he saw no treachery now, only resigned defeat. He turned back to the cogitator and began typing.