Usurpers by The Confessor

Home
Fiction
Conversions
Pictures
Game Related Ideas
Battle Reports
Artwork
Humor
Mailing List
Links
Email
USURPERS by The Confessor
'I just don't see why it has to be us.'
Materfamilias Hesperides sighed at Niobe's words. How many times had she
herself uttered those selfsame words? And how many times had she been
disciplined by her Superiors? Now it was her turn to do just that. It was
her responsibility as leader of this expedition. As much as she shared her
Sister's view, protocol demanded that correction follow dissent. Pausing
only to lick some moisture onto her dry lips, Hesperides cut Niobe off in
mid sentance.
'Though they are heathens, the Brethren of the Machine are our brothers
still, children of the Emperor.' she began, quoting a familiar passage
from the Ecclesiastical Dogma as much to reassure herself as her sisters.
'The recovery of Standard Template Constructs is of importance to all
citizens of the Imperium, and all of His children must endeavor to aid in
their recovery. While the Machine priests may decipher the texts, it falls
to those of us more pure in heart to recover the databases themselves. We
all have our part to play in our Father's grand designs, sister, and we
should not question His will.'
'My apologies, sister, I spoke out of turn.' Niobe's face was flushed, her
embarassment clear.
Hesperides managed to keep herself from smiling at her sister's
discomfort. Not only was joy at another's discomfort a sin, but it didn't
do much for squad morale to see their leader in so bad a light.
Then Sister Leda turned in her seat at the front of the Rhino and called
back to the Materfamilias.
"We've arrived."
***
As the squads disembarked from their vehicles, Hesperides studied her
charges, resplendant in the dazzling silver armour and white robes of the
Order of the Argent Shroud. Twenty nine sisters, drivers notwithstanding,
and all in her care. As a first mission in command, she could not afford
to lose a single one, although the chances of a fatality on such a routine
mission were slight. It didn't stop her worrying, though.
She took her place in the centre, and studied her surroundings. Pyrrhus
was a planet currently passing through the feudal period of human
civilisation, so she was not surprised to see a total lack of Imperial
technology. The buildings of the settlement were of primitive design, all
single storied and constructed of some chalky substance. The sun, high in
the sky, cast dark shadows that lent a somewhat sinister air to the
village, one that only added to her sense of apprehension. Yet that was
not what first struck the Materfamilias as odd. What was strange was the
total absence of life. This was a village, a place where men lived. There
should have been some sound, a bird in the sky, stinging insects,
something. But there was nothing. Of course, that could only make the
recovery of the database that much easier.
'Bolters at the ready, be vigilent.' It always helped to be cautious.
At the head of the column of the Ecclesiarchy's finest warriors,
Hesperides felt like she was stepping back in time. Brightly coloured
blankets hung from windows and covered doorways. The streets were paved
with cobblestones, amplifying the sounds of their marching feet. As she
passed nearer the buildings she could see that some of them served as
shops, selling furs and clothing, others were unsavoury looking drinking
establishments. Some cavernous buildings proved to be a bit of a mystery,
until Sister Dialogus Selena, quite an expert on the local culture,
informed her that they served as stables for riding beasts known as
horses. As there were none there, there was probably a good reason for
there being no one present in the settlement. They could be visiting a
neighbouring town, or paying their respects to the dead in a custom unique
to the planet. Corpses were taken beyond the outskirts of the village and
buried with great ceremony, while all who lived in the town paid their
respects individually. Selena had never witnessed one before, and seemed
to be greatly disappointed to be here at a time when one was taking place
and to miss it.
'There will be other opportunities for sight-seeing, Sister. Right now we
have work to do.' Hesperides told her.
Selena took this with a mere incline of her head, but the Materfamilias
could see that she was hiding her true feelings. Good; emotion clouded
judgement. But Selena's explanation made sense, and now she was confident
that nothing sinister was afoot. The time had come to find the STC, and
the best place to start would be the centre of town.
As the Sororitas advanced into what had once been the town square, the
horror soon became apparant.
First came the smell. Drifting on the breeze, it lashed at the senses,
causing hands to fly to mouths. Hesperides' was not among them. Over the
years, she had become desensitised to the scents of death, and, as much as
the smell of crudely cooked meat overpowered her senses, she refused to
acknowledge it. She had smelt worse, and much of that had been caused by
her own righteous use of a blessed flamer.
Then there were the sights. Poles of black metal were skewered firmly in
the ground, each rising to heights many times taller than the buildings
around them. Hesperides had thought nothing of them at first, they could
just have been some primitive form of street lighting. As the distance
closed however, she saw them for what they were.
Atop each pole was a wheel, again of black steel, its spokes lashed
together with thick rope. The rope also lashed other things, like wrists.
For crucified upon these wheels of torment were human cadavers. They had
reached quite an advanced state of decay, and what flesh remained had been
worried by carrion feeders. They were little more than skeletons now, the
intricasies of the Emperor's design opened for all to see.
Hesperides was mesmerised by the sight, unable to drag her eyes from the
horror that assailed and revolted her senses. She was brought back by the
sounds of violent disgust behind her.
Sister Tecmessa was on her knees, wiping vomit from her lip and coughing
violently. Hesperides was at her side in an instant, hauling her to her
feet and turning her away from the sight. She remembered that this was
Tecmessa's first time outside the convent, and she could have chosen
better circumstances to introduce her to the inhumanity of the outside
world.
'I, I'm sorry - I don't - don't...' Tecmessa sobbed.
'Hush sister, I know. I too feel your pain, but there's no need to worry.'
Hesperides comforted her, laying a reassuring hand on her sister's
shoulder. 'This misapplication will not go unpunished.'
'Misapplication?' Tecmessa's cries ceased as she raised her head in
puzzlement.
'Yes, sister, misapplication. This method of killing is reserved only for
criminals guilty of a level five heresy, yet I see no evidence of an
Ecclesiastical trial having taken place here.'
'I'm sorry, but we didn't have the time.'
Instantly the Battle Sisters were alert, scanning the surrounding expanse
for the source of the voice. Perched atop a building at the opposite end
of the square was a man, a vulture lurking close to the scent of death.
'Who are you?' demanded Hesperides, unholstering her bolt pistol as she
stepped forward.
'You mean to say that you do not know?' asked the stranger in his eloquent
yet high pitched voice.
He sat cross legged, dressed in robes of black and brown. They clung to
him like a tent, making it impossible to see his limbs, only folds. His
face was masked by the hood, and the only visible parts of his body were
his hands, pale and thin. He was toying with an amulet that hung from a
golden chain around his neck, flipping it between his fingers, which
seemed agonisingly long.
'Have they forgotten us already, brothers?' he asked, getting to his feet
and throwing his arms out wide. 'Have the usurpers forgotten those that
they replaced so quickly?' A low growl of anger entered his voice, and
Hesperides tightened her grip on her bolt pistol. This man was clearly
deranged, but she would wait for a clear indication of his heresy before
firing.
Then there was movement, and from the doorways of the gutted hovels power
armoured figures strode, clutching archaic bolters close to their chests.
They too wore robes over their black armour, but their faces were covered
by masks of steel. The sisters spun to face these newcomers, yet
Hesperides kept her attention on their leader. Any moment now he would
make his move...
'I think you can see for yourselves that you're surrounded, so I hope I
won't need to advise you to lower your weapons. You do not stand a chance
against us, my poor Brides of the Emperor, so you would do well to
surrender youselves to our Lord's mercy now. For, after all...'
He was mocking them. Mocking her. He dared to claim mercy for false gods
in the prescence of his spiritual betters, this once man, this thing. His
damnation was beyond doubt. And there was only one way to deal with the
damned...
'We are the Daughters of the Divine Emperor!' Hesperides bellowed. 'We do
NOT surrender to misguided Chaos Marines!'
As she gave voice to her rage, she vented it in more physical ways as
well. She raised her pistol to the rooftop figure and pressed the trigger
while the heathen was still ranting.
The roar of the bolt shell's discharge gave the man a moment to realise
what was happening before the projectile hit him; a moment to consider the
mistakes he had made in this life. But instead of the expected screams and
spraying of blood, a blinding glare of light arced from him, stinging the
eyes of the sisters with its brightness.
Even as Hesperides' vision began to return, she was already aware of the
fact that the man was laughing. She looked up to see that he was now
standing before her, holding aloft the artefact of his salvation, the
object to which he owed his life. Looking up, she saw only too clearly
what he held at the end of the chain.
'No...' she mouthed, taking a step away from this abomination.
'What's the matter, my dear?' cackled the man, lowering his arms and
holding the object before him in one clenched, gloved hand. 'Haven't you
seen a rosarius before?'
Hesperides did not answer him. This daemon serving wretch held in his hand
the very symbol of the Emperor's divinity, the ultimate sacrilige! No true
servant of the Emperor could stand for such a thing. With one fluid motion
she drew her power sword and thrust at him, hoping to find a weak point in
his protective force field. Yet he was not standing there anymore, but a
few metres to her right. He had let the rosarius fall from his hand and
merely pointed at her.
'Frateris Templars! The usurpers have refused our kind invitation! Cleanse
their souls!'
The black armoured figures levelled their bolters at the sisters. As one,
they took a step forward. And then another. Then they began to run. There
was a cry from one of the Sororitas, the discharge of a gun and a bolt
shell inpacting upon one of the Templar's breast plate. Then they began to
return fire.
As the Templars closed in, wildly firing their bolters into the sisters'
defensive ring, and she quickly reeled off directions to the Superiors,
Hesperides' mind was racing. So that was what this was! She had thought
the Templars disbanded with the ascension of Thor, but apparantly some of
them hadn't been willing to lay down their arms. How they were here now
did not matter. All that mattered at the moment was staying alive. And
returning that rosarius to someone more deserving...
Hesperides looked about her. As yet, no sisters had fallen, their armour
deflecting the bolt shells easily, while a couple of Templars lay dead,
having learned all too late that wearing easily flammable robes was not a
good idea when facing flamer armed foes. Their leader was nowhere to be
seen. He must be around somewhere...
But there was no time to search now, as already the Templars had closed
with the Sororitas, drawing swords from scabbards almost languidly, an
eerie calm settled over them. Hesperides had more than enough time to
parry the blow of the warrior before her, slicing through both his blade
and his arm with a single sweep of her power sword. As he fell to the
ground, only now a low moan of animal pain emerging from within his helm,
she denied him the killing blow, leaving him to die slowly, leaving him to
think about the heresy he had committed.
To her right, Sister Clarisse was desperately trying to fend off the
sweeping attacks of another Templar with her boltgun. Already she had been
forced down on one knee, and she would not be able to defeat her opponent
at such a disadvantage. The Materfamilias did not hesitate, immediately
rushing to the aid of her stricken charge. The Templar had seen her
approach, however, and was already swinging around to face her, kicking
Clarisse into the dirt with a blow from his armoured boot. Hesperides
could see that felling him would be a more daunting prospect than her last
foe. He was taller and heavier (if she was any judge) for a start, and
handled his weapon with skill. Already he twirled it through the air, an
elegant flash of silver the trail behind it as it span and danced in his
grasp. Then he stopped. Now the sword was held two-handed, and being
raised above his head. Giving vent to a roar, he began to charge.
But Hesperides was waiting for him. Already she had ceased her assault,
letting her sword arm hang by her side. Her other was raised, the blessed
bolt pistol discharging its round into the Templar's face. He carried on
running for a few seconds after his head disintegrated, but then his
carcass collapsed to the ground, berefit of life.
Clarisse had already regained her feet, a brief nod to her superior all
the gratitude there was time for in the swirling melee of combat. The
Templars, now they were up close, had the advantage. More than one female
corpse lay upon the ground, their souls gone to meet the Emperor. Without
close combat weapons the sisters were easy prey for the lashing sabres of
the Templars. The sister superiors were faring slightly better, their
glowing power swords cleaving the traitors' armour like bolt shells
through a gretchin. They were but two however, and the ranks of the
Templars seemed inexhaustible. The occasional burst of fire from flamers
was thinning them out, but Hesperides was enough of a veteran to be able
to tell when the battle was lost. There would be no withdrawal, though.
This filth was far worse than even the traitor legions, and had to be
cleansed. Though they would die in the process, she and her sisters would
pave the way for the righteous retribution of the Emperor's armies,
earning themselves a place amongst the saints of the Imperium in the
Emperor's heaven.
Suddenly something heavy smashed against her backpack, causing her to
stumble in the mud. Regaining her balance just in time, she ducked and
swung her sword behind her. A brief cry and a mace dropping to the floor
confirmed the fact that she had hit someone. Ripping the blade from where
it was stuck, she turned to see the Templars' leader standing behind her,
hands desperately clutching at a gash in his side.
Hesperides allowed herself a grim smile.
'So, the Emperor has finally abandoned you, eh?' she said, slicing through
the chain that attatched the rosarius to the man's neck.
The amulet dropped to the ground, and Hesperides lifted her sword high. It
was always the way of the sinful to seek salvation, maybe even
justification for their actions, and he was bound to try to pick it up.
But instead, he turned on his heel and ran, stumbling as he went, a hand
clasped to his side the whole time. She looked down, and saw that the
rosarius had disappeared. She had no time to examine it closely, but it
looked more like some manner of holographic projector... It took a few
moments for Hesperides to get over her astonishment, but then she was
hareing off after him as he threaded his way through the combatants, a
rodent seeking sanctuary. She was not quite as nimble, hacking her way
through any Templar that stood in her way. They didn't matter any more.
All that mattered was catching and killing the one who had abused the
Emperor's beneficient protection. She was not ready to become a martyr
just yet. There would be no rest until his fire blackened bones decorated
one of the wheels he himself had used to commit his crimes.
He had ducked inside one of the buildings, so Hesperides slowed. He could
jump out at any moment, and even power armour couldn't save against a
heavy piece of wood applied to the back of someone's skull. As she edged
her way inside, she was assailed by the stench. Three corpses sat within,
sitting at a table as if to eat. Each was pinned to his chair by an iron
nail, the contents of their bodies emptied onto the table. They'd been
dead for several days...
And there was nothing she could have done. These innocents had been
wrongly executed in a cruel mockery of the Emperor's justice, and she was
powerless. But there was no time for self pity. At least she could avenge
them by inflicting upon their murderer every harm he had done to them. In
triplicate. But he wasn't there. A quick search yielded a trapdoor in the
floor. How fast was this man? She hadn't been that far behind him, and
already he'd managed to shut and bolt it against her pursuit. She
tightened the grip on her power sword, and her other hand found its way to
the rosarius hanging around her own neck. Although not incorporating a
conversion field, the simple icon did manage to bring her some comfort in
times such as these. The Emperor was with her, and nothing could sever
that bond.
The trapdoor splintered with a single blow from the sword. The steps
descended into darkness, and Hesperides gave thanks to the Emperor for His
wisdom in fitting power armour with in-built torches. Pausing only to
unholster her pistol, she descended.
***
'Welcome, sister.'
He had been waiting for her. He stood, much the same as before, on the
opposite side of the room. His wound had gone, doubtless cured by some
unspeakable witchcraft. Behind him though, was another matter entirely.
The whole wall buzzed, the occasional light flickering on and off, as a
machine the size of the room ticked on in whatever its mysterious purpose
was.
Wires criss-crossed the room and walls, hanging from the ceiling like
high-tech spiderwebs. Some of them hung limp and lifeless, while others
pulsed, as if feeding liquid through them. Lights of all colours flashed
on and off, some small and insignificant, others giving off enough
illumination to hint at the rest of the machine's detail. Dials and
switches adorned every available surface, save for one. A large screen,
black and empty, save for one thing. A small, green question mark, there
one second and gone the next. She involuntarily gasped. She had never
expected anything like this!
'I see you've noticed the STC then?' the man smiled, spreading his arms
wide, as if to draw attention to the thing. 'A bit bulky, I know, but you
can't expect knowledge to be contained.'
'Shut your blaspheming mouth, traitor.' she whispered, trying to control
the rage within her. Anger was not a thing encouraged by the Sisterhood;
it clouded the senses, eroded skill and only served to bring power to the
false gods. 'I am her to put an end to you, in the name of the Emperor and
all those that you have slaughtered.'
'They were not slaughtered without reason. I'm sure that, had you arrived
earlier, you would have dealt with them much the same.' he argued,
stepping slowly towards her.
'Maybe so, but at least we'd have done so with a prayer upon our lips,
imploring the Emperor to forgive their tainted souls!' answered
Hesperides, pointing her sword at his chest.
'Well, we did do that. Or at least, the Templars did. I don't know why it
is that you are all obsessed with ceremony. Surely a wholesale butchering
would please your Emperor more.'
Hesperides replied with a brutal kick that sent the man to the ground, his
hood fluttering from his face. She caught her breath as she gazed at what
lay beneath.
The stench of decayed flesh wafted up from the thing that lay prostrate
before her. Little skin was left on what could be called its face, and its
baleful eyes were something else... They pulsed. They throbbed, as if
alive in their own right. They had no iris or pupil; they were merely
white orbs that seemed to stare straight into Hesperides' soul.
She instinctively flinched back, crossing herself as protection against
the repugnant being.
'You are possessed...' she finally managed to gasp, her voice sounding
weak, when she should be strong! She cursed silently. This was no way for
a Materfamilias to behave. Fear was merely a tool of evil to cloud the
senses of the pure. It-
'Yes. Indeed I am.' rasped the daemon-thing, getting to its feet and
brushing at its robes, as if their cleanliness would matter to a walking
corpse.
Hesperides cleared her mind. This was no time for thinking, it was time
for action. But where was the psycannon shell for her bolter? By the Holy
Throne, she'd have to try and stall the daemon with conversation while she
loaded the means of its destruction. Why did the Emperor have to move in
such mysterious ways?
'You may have managed to claim the souls of some Templars. You will not
find the Adepta Sororitas so easy to manipulate, fiend of the lower
depths.' she spat, trying to unclip the magazine from her pistol behind
her back, her words her only protection from the stinking wretch.
'You flatter me.' The daemon could have been grinning, but whatever jaw
muscles its host had possessed had rotted long ago. 'They are all
innocents, strong in their devotion to the Emperor. Only this you see
before you belongs wholy to me! I thought I could claim them all, as they
forsook their Emperor for deserting them. Yet despite being stranded in
the Warp they refused to abandon him. Loyalty is indeed a powerful thing.'
I didn't think you'd understand the concept, Hesperides said silently.
Then her fingers found what she was looking for. She just had to clip it
in-
'But there was one among them who had sense. What happy coincidence that
it was their Captain.' The daemon sighed. Was it trying to simulate
emotion or something? 'It was a simple matter to claim him. His ambition
and resentfulness left him wide open to me. Now like hounds they follow
me, obeying my every command as if I were the Emperor himself! Your
sisters cannot defeat them, no more than you can defeat me!'
'Then I expect they'll be victorious by the time I leave this hell hole!'
Hesperides screamed, swinging her gun up and levelling it at the fell
beast.
With inhuman speed it was on her, her first shot merely punching a hole in
the ceiling. Talons slashed at the weapon, crushing it easily. She let it
fall from her hand and reached for her sword, but it was too late. The
left hand of the daemon had metamorphosed before her very eyes. Now it was
a pink claw, a gigantic and grotesque parody of the human form. It
clutched her by the forehead, and she screamed.
Its touch was not slimy, nor was it scaly, nothing like how she'd thought
a daemon would feel. It hardly felt as if it was there at all, a breath of
wind upon her skin. But she could feel its evil. Feel the desire to kill
it rising within her, just to get away from it. Its face was changing too,
the human bones splintering as the creature within asserted itself in
reality, drinking in her fear and drawing power from it. She quickly
closed her eyes and twisted her head to get away from the sight, but she
couldn't escape its voice, that insinuating, impossible voice that could
manage to be both seductive and repellant at the same time.
'You cannot deny me, deary. Your soul is mine for the taking, and your
petty Emperor cannot save you! You are all doomed!'
Despite its insubstantial form, she felt the hand lift from her forehead.
She could contain her rage no longer, and kicked out at the thing. In
reply it merely laughed, her feeble attempts to hurt it the protests of a
child. She was going to die, she knew it now. There was no time to confess
her sins, there would be no burial, and her soul would be devoured.
Grasping her rosarius with her free hand, she muttered the Fede Imperialis
to herself. But why mutter the hymn? The daemon should not think that it
had won. She would show her defiance to the last. Now she was shrieking
the prayer, emptying her lungs, bawling each word and verse. She thrust
the rosarius at the daemon with all her might, and hit something. But it
was not ethereal like the hand had been. It was very much solid, and
suddenly burst aflame.
She snapped her eyes open, her fear outweighed by her surprise. The
daemon's head was a funeral pyre of unliving tissue, and the fire was
spreading. On its forehead was impressed the mark of the rosarius. Already
it had released its grip upon her, a banshee wail hissing from its jaws as
it desperately tried to put out the fire. But Hesperides wasn't going to
let it get away that easily. She struggled to her feet, the daemon's touch
having somehow sapped her strength. Never the less, she managed to take up

her sword once more, and brought it, two handed, across the daemon's neck.
The wailing intensified, and the daemon finally relinquished the body of
its human host.
Robes, flesh and bone and flew from it, shards cutting and nicking
Hesperides' face. The bulbously lean, grotesquely beautiful and
blasphemously magnificent form of the beast rose above the Battle Sister,
its head still burning. With taloned hands the size of a man it struggled
to extinguish the blaze, to no avail. Its tattered wings burst into light
as they flailed about. The monstrous tail, wormlike and garishly pink,
lashed at Hesperides, but she was quick enough to evade its sluggish
attacks.
In reply she tore her rosarius from its chain, wrapping it around her
wrist. Grasping her power sword firmly in her other hand, she took a deep
breath. If ever she needed the Emperor's protection, now was the time.
Slashing with her blade, she severed the tip of the daemon's tail, and it
roared, more in irritation than in pain. Ignoring the holy fire that was
threatening to melt its grotesque horned head, the daemon threw itself at
its attacker, trying to catch her in its jaws. She thrust her sword
straight at the centre of its forehead, and plunged it in up to the hilt.
Holding on with all her might, she thrust her other hand, still holding
the rosarius, into one of the thing's eyes.
The daemon reared up, shaking from side to side to dislodge her.
Hesperides merely clung to her sword, surprised that the fire was not hot
at all. Truly the Emperor is watching over me, she told herself as she
withdrew the rosarius and punched it into the other eye, which shattered
as if it were glass.
The daemon, now blind and enduring pain beyond mortal knowledge, took to
the air, smashing through the ceiling and into the clear skies above. Then
one of its wings gave way and it came crashing down, a burning ruin.
Hesperides withdrew her sword and stared at it. Was it really dead? It was
hard to tell sometimes, with daemons. It wasn't moving, though. And the
aura of evil that had surrounded it had dissipated. A wave of relief swept
over her to fill the void, but then her exertions caught up with her and
she fell to her knees, dropping the sword and struggling for breath.
When she lifted her head, she saw that, all around her, the Sororitas and
Templars had ceased their battle and were staring at the daemon. Now was
not the time for rest, the Emperor still had work for her. But should she
trust the words of the daemon? Were these former warriors of the Emperor
merely misguided or were they all daemons such as the one she had just
slain? She had to make a decision, and just hoped that the Emperor was
guiding her to the right one.
Helping herself to her feet with her power sword, she adressed the
assembled warriors. Or at least, she intended to. Suddenly the roar of
gunfire started up again, and the surviving Templars were sent sprawling
to the ground as their chests were torn open from behind. It took only
seconds for each and every one of them to be cut down.
Hesperides forgot her lethargy and ducked behind the daemon's carcass,
bawling at her sisters to likewise find cover. Beside her lay the body of
one of the Templars. From the severity of his wound she guessed that he'd
been executed with a bolt shell, and it was more than likely that the
other three dozen or so had been killed in a similar way. But who had
fired upon them?
'There is no need to hide, sister. The danger is past.'
The voice was harsh and commanding, yet that didn't necessarilly mean an
enemy. Cautiously, Hesperides came out of hiding. Secretly, she was
relieved to. In the cold light of day, the daemon was decomposing at an
incredible rate, and hiding in its entrails was not an experience she
wanted to repeat in a hurry.
The man who had spoken wore a suit of tactical dreadnought armour, totally
black, save for the insignia emblazoned upon his chest. The serpent
shielded symbol of the Inquisition. She noted that the bolter in his left
hand had been recently fired.
With some difficulty he raised his arms to remove his great helm, shaking
loose the long grey hair beneath. Hesperides caught her breath at the look
in his eyes, the intense stare of the fanatic, made all the more
compelling by the contrast it drew with the sickly pale tone of the skin.
Compared to this man, the possessed had looked positively healthy.
'You're lucky we got here when we did.' he intoned, clipping the helm onto
a slot in the armour's waist.
Hesperides' head was whirling with questions, but at that moment only one
found its way to her lips; 'We?'
Following his gaze as his eyes moved, she espied the surviving sisters of
her patrol. Their once fine power armour was dented and chipped, their
white robes stained with blood. Yet, despite it all, only five of them
appeared to have fallen in the conflict with the Frateris. They had shown
themselves more than deserving of the Emperor's protection. That was
something to feel proud of. But then she realised just who was missing.
Hesperides allowed herself a moment of grief when she realised that
Tecmessa was not amongst the survivors.
Standing around the huddled group, bulky figures, their terminator armour
a lighter shade than that of the Inquisitor, and definitely more
intricately carved. Writhing serpents, winged skulls, swords and more all
decorated their grey armour. With glowing halberds they herded the
unresisting Sororitas into a circle. One turned its back, but Hesperides
still noticed it raise something in its left hand. Something that glowed
with an eerie red light.
'What are they doing?' she gasped, shock and exhaustion combining to drain
what little strength she had.
A hand touched her shoulder. Despite the fact that it was meant only to
get her attention, the incredible strength gifted to the Inquisitor by his
armour caused Hesperides to give vent to a small cry, which she
immediately hated herslf for. Here she was a representative of the
Ecclesiarchy, and shouldn't be showing weakness before the Inquisition.
'They are being... attended to. We need to be sure that they weren't
contaminated by that abomination.'
'What of the Templars?' Hesperides removed the gauntlet from her shoulder
and turned to stare at the Inquisitor's eyes, something she regretted
after a couple of seconds. 'You didn't seem to need to test them.'
'That was... different. Whether or not they were Chaos' pawns is of no
consequence. Even were they still loyal, there is no place in the Imperium
for such as they.' The Inquisitor's eyes glazed over, and spittle dripped
from his lip as he launched into a tirade. 'Their time has gone! We can't
have them being exposed to Imperial citizens! They've been isolated for
nigh on five thousand years. Who can say how much the Imperial Creed has
changed since their day? I will not have the Imperium endangered by their
unprocessed thoughts!'
Taken aback, Hesperides felt it somehow her duty to reason with this
maniac. To defend those who had killed five of her sisters. She didn't
know why. 'Surely there must have been something you could have done for
them? Exterminating them out of hand seems to me to be the easy way out.'
'Ha, and I suppose you'll be telling me next that you feel pity for those
heretics that you have burnt at the stake?' spat the Inquisitor. 'These
two things are no different! They are both deviations from the Emperor's
will, and there can be no toleration of deviants, can there, Sister
Hesperides?'
'The rewards of tolerance are treachery and betrayal.' she murmered, but
somehow the Emperor's word didn't bring her the same comfort they usually
did. Before they had been justifications of the measures that were
necessary to protect humanity, but now they seemed more like excuses. And
excuses are the refuge of the weak...
'You have me at a disadvantage, brother.' she said, struggling to quell
the heretical thoughts within her.
'My name is Inquisitor Prada, but to you I am always 'lord'. However, I
believe that we have more serious business here than my name. Where is the
STC database?'
'Don't you want to make sure that the daemon is dead first, my lord?' A
calm exterior, she needed that at all times. Maybe he was a psyker! Then
she'd need to hide her thoughts as well. She hadn't done anything more
than pondered his motives, but she had heard tales of Inquisitors having
people executed for far lesser crimes. She hoped he wasn't a psyker.
'I am quite sure that the decaying mound of putrescence behind me has had
the dark spirit that drove it driven from its body.' he told her. He
practically announced it. 'After all, was it not I who slew the beast?'
'But I thought-'
'Sister, the Grey Knights and I are possessed of psychic abilities beyond
your imaginings. It was the work of moments to unbind the chains that
bound such a minor spirit to this plane. It was a little easier than
expected, though. The Emperor must have guided my actions this day. Now
come. You will take me to the database.'
***
The daylight streaming in through the hole in the ceiling changed
Hesperides' opinions of the STC somewhat. Where before it had been a
brooding, almost living thing, its bulk only hinted at by the torchlight,
it was a little disappointing when in full view. The lights that had stood
out so brilliantly in the total darkness of the daemon's crypt were merely
pathetically winking bulbs of ancient design, and the whole thing was
covered in rust and the work of spiders.
'Magnificent.' said Prada. 'This is the best preserved database I have
ever seen, and believe me, I've seen many in my time.'
'So, will you be supervising the tech priests' work, my lord?' enquired
Hesperides, trying to force her doubt of the Inquisitor's eyesight into
the back of her mind.
'Of course not. There won't be much worth salvaging from this burnt out
wreck.'
'But I thought you said-'
The Materfamilias was cut off in mid sentance by the Inquisitor's bolt
pistol sounding out in the close confines of the cellar. The computer
exploded, showering them both with fragments of machinery.
'Mankind is not ready for the knowledge that the STC can offer them.' the
Inquisitor told her, as if lecturing a child. 'I suppose I should thank
you for bringing me here, but it would be a little pointless since you
won't remember it.'
'What do you mean, my lord?' she asked him, sensing the concealed threat
in his voice.
'I'm afraid you've seen too much, sister. Like your comrades above, I
regret to say that I'm going to have to erase all recollection of what has

transpired here from your memory. My powers have fully recovered from the
battle with the daemon now and I see no more reason to delay this.'
As he advanced on her, Hesperides was struck with a sudden thought. What
if he had known all along? He had just been playing with her. He was no
better than the daemon had been. Drawing her sword, she was determined not
to go down without a fight. But a fight was the flast thing on the
Inquisitor's mind. With a simple wave of his hand he forced her to her
knees. She felt him clawing around inside her mind, trying to make her
release her grip on the sword. She would not give in to a witch! The
Emperor was with her, watching over her, and would protect her from this
foul sorcery. Muttering psalms of hatred and righteous abhorrance to
herself, she struggled to keep her grip. She could tell that the
Inquisitor wasn't finding this as easy as he had thought it was going to
be. For one thing, those eyes of his, the insane eyes which which he
condemned all that he saw, were closed. Sweat ran down his forehead, and
he was gritting his teeth as if it would somehow break her will. Suddenly
his eyes opened, and he raised the pistol. As he did so, his hold upon her
mind was lifted, and she sprang forward, sword raised. But even as she
sliced through the wrist of the hand that held the gun, she realised her
mistake. He had distracted her from the mental battle with his physical
threat, and now she was unprepared for his renewed assault. She was lost.
***
When she came to, she wasn't in the cellar anymore. Silhouetted against
the glare of the lights overhead was Hospitaller Coronis.
'Praise the Emperor that you have recovered, Materfamilias.' she said,
smiling and helping Hesperides to her feet.
They were in one of the infirmaries aboard the spacecraft Vengeful Mace,
orbiting Pyrrhus, that much she could tell. But what had happened? Where
was the Inquisitor?
'How did I get here?' she asked Coronis.
'You were injured in that explosion when you were unearthing the database,
Materfamilias. You were one of the lucky ones. Five other sisters died,
poor Tecmessa among them.'
'An explosion?'
'Yes, I don't know the details, but the tech-priests are apparantly
blaming you for all the damage that has been done to the STC. The Prioress
herself will be wanting to see you when we return to Terra.'
'But I didn't do anything, it was the Inquisitor!' protested Hesperides.
'Inquisitor? Materfamilias, are you feeling all right?'
'No, I am not feeling all right, sister! Five sisters have died today,
slain by Frateris Templars, and an Inquisitor destroyed the STC database!
Ask any of the others; they'll confirm my story!'
Coronis shook her head sadly. Drawing back to the doorway, she paused for
a moment.
'The only Templars down there are long gone. Dead for centuries, the
others said, a bit of a mystery by all accounts. And I'm sure we'd all
know if there was an Inquisitor around. I think perhaps you need more
rest, sister. I will return tomorrow to see how you are recovering. Until
then, may the Emperor bless you and keep you.'
The door closed, steam venting from pipes as the ancient mechanism locked.
Hesperides let herself fall onto the bed, alone with her thoughts. The
Inquisitor had said he would erase their memories, but then why did she
remember everything? Maybe it was just some sick joke on Prada's part,
revenge for the loss of his hand. He had betrayed the Templars and the
Mechanicus, and let her take the blame. Perhaps it amused him to know that
she remembered what had really happened. But Inquisitors weren't exactly
renowned for their sense of humour. It had to have been something else,
but what? A cold chill stole over her, and she knew. How she discovered
it, she didn't know. She might have been aware all this time, but had
merely not been ready to accept it. It was the daemon.
That was why it had touched her, why it had exposed her to its evil.
Somehow her contact with it must have protected her from the Inquisitor's
powers. She would have felt better knowing that Prada was torturing her.
At least that was understandable, driven by human emotion. Knowing that
the Emperor had forsaken her was a whole lot worse. Without His guidance
and protection, what was left? And whatever the reasons for the daemon's
protection, they would not be good. Now she had become everything that she
hated, a mere pawn of the false gods of Chaos. Sobbing despite herself,
she let sleep take her, but it would be a far from untroubled repose...