GAME 5 - DISCOVERY
Inquisitor Aldous Dunhelm swore under his breath for the hundredth time as he strained with the weight of his unconscious captive, dragging him towards the hangar bay that held his shuttle. On this higher deck there was not the same noise level from the station’s operation, and there was the ever-present risk that one of the security wardens would pass through the area on one of their patrol sweeps. Dunhelm did not want to have to deal with the tricky situation that would be presented should he be discovered, and so he continuously laboured to drag the body towards the sanctuary of the shuttle bay; from there he could escape back to the planet below.
The unconscious Inquisitor groaned a little and twitched as he began to surface into wakefulness. A short pause to deliver a swift punch to the head put him under again, and the dragging continued. Aldous could see the hangar doors ahead of him now – he was nearly there…
Inquisitor Dinara Jacobs stalked the shadows, stealthily ducking under the gantry walkway of an orbital surveyor station to take up an observation position. For far too long she had masqueraded as a security warden as she underwent her undercover investigation into the ward-secundus of this platform. There was something underhand going on and the chief security commander of this orbital relay was heavily involved. Now she had gone off patrol on deck 12, and there must be a reason. It was time to act, and so, after months of espionage and deception, while going about the monotonous daily routines of a security ward neophyte class 1, she had slipped off her maintenance check rundown, and began to hunt.
Following the trail of clues from monitoring her locator signal, which had re-appeared on the scanners once she resumed her patrol path, had led her to suspect an unknown trespasser on the platform. There must have been a meeting and so whoever this trespasser was he must be a link. After several long minutes sheltered in her hiding spot, the unknown man came into view, and he was not alone. The man was dressed in a long, pale greatcoat, and had a heavy carapace plate covering his chest and forearms. A strange device perched upon a shoulder mount, and on his back Jacobs could spy a gun harness and a large book. A face crowned with a top-knot of hair grimaced as he dragged his heavy burden. Dinara’s eyes widened in surprise as the object being dragged came into view as he crossed the walkway in front of her. It was another man – dead? Or perhaps just unconscious. But he was wearing deep red robes, and on his black chest plate, clearly embossed with a light-grey stone-work effect, was a symbol – a large letter ‘I’, with a skull at its heart. A symbol of the Inquisition. This was indeed a strange turn of events, one that needed explanation.
Summoning some psychic energy, she attempted to revive the prone figure. Yes – he was alive. She began imbuing him with energy to force past his unconscious state and will him to wakefulness. It was working, but then…
There was a loud bleep in Dunhelm’s ear, and a sudden whirl of motion from his warp-tracker, as nearby it detected a psychic energy spike. His psychic senses could detect the warp power in the air as it whirled past him. There was a psyker here, and not 20 yards away. Dropping the other Inquisitor, he drew his gun and ran towards the location of the warp signature’s origin. There, well hidden beneath a gantry, was another figure – the slight glint of golden armour revealed them, and realising they were discovered, they rose from the cover to meet his challenge. It was a security warden, the long power-stave held at the ready. But that didn’t make sense; no psyker would ever be permitted a position on an orbital relay’s staff. That mystery would have to wait, however, as it seemed a conflict was inevitable. The gold armoured warrior-woman rushed from her position and he ran to meet her.
Inquisitor Quintas Vaelor drew in a deep breath as he was wrenched from unconsciousness. Looking about him he saw he was lying on the floor of an unfamiliar deck. His hands were bound behind his back, but he could not see his captor. Rolling to his knees, he staggered to his feet. There was the sound of combat behind him but this was no time to hesitate. Ahead he could see a survey tower, and he stumbled rapidly towards it, tumbling himself into cover behind it. Rolling back to a sitting position, he brought his arms underneath himself, and out under his feet so they were now in front of him. Pulling the knife from its sheath at his side with both bound hands, he rested it between his knees and, with two jagged pulls, severed his ties. His hands now free, he drew his stubber, and prepared to peer around the tower to try and work out what kind of situation he was in, but as he went to regain his feet, he felt the heavy sensation of the drugs in his system overpowering his wits, and he slumped into unconsciousness again against the tower.
There was no getting rid of this woman! Dunhelm swore and lunged forwards again, but again she blocked his strike and spun away. Every time he tried to take a swing she wasn’t there. She was tricksy – always moving, always getting him on the back foot. He swung again but she ducked and kicked him sharply in his left leg, and he went crashing heavily to the floor. He glanced up but she wasn’t there. Then a heavy impact connected with his back and he went sprawling forward. She had somehow got behind him. He turned as he rose to bring his sword round to strike the woman’s side, but it met only air. He saw her armoured form retreating down the thoroughfare to the hangars. A thoroughfare notably devoid of an unconscious Inquisitor. Cursing to himself again, he ran after the gold-armoured woman.
Quintas awoke again, some force pervading his body to overcome the debilitating effects of the drugs in his system. Offering a short prayer to the Emperor for His aid, he picked up his stubber from where it had fallen and glanced around the tower once more. His captor was running away from him, towards a gold-armoured woman with a tall power-stave. It seemed his captor had been discovered by the security detail of the platform! Whatever the turn of events, he had a chance of escape, and moved quickly yet silently around the tall metallic structures of the deck to conceal his getaway. Evacuation markings on the floor indicated the shuttle bays were nearby, and that would allow a secure transport away from this platform, and danger. He stumbled as the drugs once again threatened to overcome his consciousness, and reached out to steady himself against a bulkhead. Taking several deep breaths to summon his strength again he continued his passage towards the hangars, his effort to remain upright and mobile temporarily stealing away any further thoughts of stealth.
Aldous had nearly reached the strange woman, she having ceased her apparent flight and turning once again to face him. As he approached he summoned a portion of his psychic might and fashioned it into an impel – attempting to smash the woman against the bulkhead to her left. As he released the force, he saw just a flicker of power pass across the woman’s eyes. She stood still, defiant. A fraction of a second later he was stopped in his tracks as a piercing, penetrating pain coursed through his mind – the psychic feedback from his power’s nullification and counter-spell. This woman was psychically formidable, and Dunhelm conceded to himself that his powers would be of no use to him in attempting to engage this strange foe. Falling briefly to his haunches and heaving in great breaths to rid himself of the after-effects of the psychic backlash, he was vulnerable to an attack, and realising this, he lifted his gaze to meet the inevitable strike. However, the woman did not strike. Instead, stepping forwards, stave raised defensively, she spoke.
“Who are you, stranger? How did you come to be on this orbital, and what is your agenda here? You will answer me!”
Dunhelm felt the authority in the voice, the need to answer despite his obvious need for secrecy, and knew it was more than just the weight of authority conveyed by her voice alone. There were layers of psychic commands and un-inhibitors woven into the demand. Despite this he realised that his only recourse to escape his predicament might be to reveal something of the truth.
Gritting his teeth, Dunhelm spat “I am an agent of the Inquisition, and my reasons for being upon this platform are mine alone to know” He produced from a hidden pocket in the folds of his greatcoat an inquisitorial seal, holding it in sight for a brief instant before slipping it back into concealment. “My authority is absolute and you shall not oppose me further! Now, I demand to know who you are. And not who you currently claim to be. Do not insult me by pretending to be a mere security warden!”
At this, the woman merely laughed. However, a second later she was stern-faced once again, the power-stave still held in an aggressive stance, and with a murderous glint which had never left her eyes.
“Fool! You do not comprehend who it is you are dealing with – I too am a member of His most holy Orders of Inquisitors, and it is you who would do well not to oppose me. Your presence here compromises my works, and in truth I should dispose of your presence immediately.” There was a pause, and Dunhelm feared the expected strike would still, finally, be delivered. But then, a calmness crossed the woman’s features and the stave was moved to a standing position, held loosely in one hand, such as a sentry might stand outside the gate of his master’s citadel.
“However,” she continued, “I feel that whatever purpose has brought you here must be connected in some way to that of my own, and together we should be best able to proceed, rather than at each others’ throats. Besides, I imagine you are at least as keen as I am to avoid revealing yourself to the personnel of this platform?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, and Dunhelm, though still down on his haunches managed to nod his assent. His warp-tracker remained pointing at the woman, continuing to bleep every few seconds to indicate it was still getting a reading.
“Very well, but do not entertain to try and cross me Aldous Dunhelm!” Dunhelm gasped inwardly – she knew his name. “Yes – I see you recognise that my psychic abilities are somewhat greater than your own. I now know your name, I know that my psychic prowess greatly interests you, and I know other things you thought concealed from me inside your mind.” Dunhelm greatly disliked these words – what secrets had he unwittingly revealed in his weakened state? His psychic defences were being circumvented. He made an effort to increase them.
The woman continued, “But you should know now, Inquisitor Dunhelm, that should you attempt to cross me I will know your intent before you know it yourself, and it will go bad for you!”Again Dunhelm nodded, and instantly the pressure holding him down, noticeable only because it was no longer there, lifted. He stood to his full height and turned his falchion point down to rest his hand upon the hilt. His warp-tracker reduced the regularity of its bleeping considerably, but still did not stop altogether.
“It seems you have laid terms, and I find myself in no position to oppose them. I will cooperate, as you suggest. I do not know what knowledge you believe to have stolen from me, but you should know the prisoner I brought here with me, seeking evac from this orbital via shuttle, was also an inquisitor. A dangerous one, who knows too much.”
He looked about him, sweeping his free arm around to indicate the deck about them.
“But you will notice your little, distraction, has afforded him escape. If, as you say, we are here on common cause, it should be in both our interests to rediscover his whereabouts and re-capture him!” Dunhelm swung his sword back up into his grip and went to walk away, back down the thoroughfare.
Dunhelm felt the authority in the voice, the need to answer despite his obvious need for secrecy, and knew it was more than just the weight of authority conveyed by her voice alone. There were layers of psychic commands and un-inhibitors woven into the demand. Despite this he realised that his only recourse to escape his predicament might be to reveal something of the truth.
Gritting his teeth, Dunhelm spat “I am an agent of the Inquisition, and my reasons for being upon this platform are mine alone to know” He produced from a hidden pocket in the folds of his greatcoat an inquisitorial seal, holding it in sight for a brief instant before slipping it back into concealment. “My authority is absolute and you shall not oppose me further! Now, I demand to know who you are. And not who you currently claim to be. Do not insult me by pretending to be a mere security warden!”
At this, the woman merely laughed. However, a second later she was stern-faced once again, the power-stave still held in an aggressive stance, and with a murderous glint which had never left her eyes.
“Fool! You do not comprehend who it is you are dealing with – I too am a member of His most holy Orders of Inquisitors, and it is you who would do well not to oppose me. Your presence here compromises my works, and in truth I should dispose of your presence immediately.” There was a pause, and Dunhelm feared the expected strike would still, finally, be delivered. But then, a calmness crossed the woman’s features and the stave was moved to a standing position, held loosely in one hand, such as a sentry might stand outside the gate of his master’s citadel.
“However,” she continued, “I feel that whatever purpose has brought you here must be connected in some way to that of my own, and together we should be best able to proceed, rather than at each others’ throats. Besides, I imagine you are at least as keen as I am to avoid revealing yourself to the personnel of this platform?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, and Dunhelm, though still down on his haunches managed to nod his assent. His warp-tracker remained pointing at the woman, continuing to bleep every few seconds to indicate it was still getting a reading.
“Very well, but do not entertain to try and cross me Aldous Dunhelm!” Dunhelm gasped inwardly – she knew his name. “Yes – I see you recognise that my psychic abilities are somewhat greater than your own. I now know your name, I know that my psychic prowess greatly interests you, and I know other things you thought concealed from me inside your mind.” Dunhelm greatly disliked these words – what secrets had he unwittingly revealed in his weakened state? His psychic defences were being circumvented. He made an effort to increase them.
The woman continued, “But you should know now, Inquisitor Dunhelm, that should you attempt to cross me I will know your intent before you know it yourself, and it will go bad for you!”Again Dunhelm nodded, and instantly the pressure holding him down, noticeable only because it was no longer there, lifted. He stood to his full height and turned his falchion point down to rest his hand upon the hilt. His warp-tracker reduced the regularity of its bleeping considerably, but still did not stop altogether.
“It seems you have laid terms, and I find myself in no position to oppose them. I will cooperate, as you suggest. I do not know what knowledge you believe to have stolen from me, but you should know the prisoner I brought here with me, seeking evac from this orbital via shuttle, was also an inquisitor. A dangerous one, who knows too much.”
He looked about him, sweeping his free arm around to indicate the deck about them.
“But you will notice your little, distraction, has afforded him escape. If, as you say, we are here on common cause, it should be in both our interests to rediscover his whereabouts and re-capture him!” Dunhelm swung his sword back up into his grip and went to walk away, back down the thoroughfare.
“Inquisitor!” called the woman. “ You are going the wrong way! I believe, you should try that way…” she said, pointing off down a narrow passage to her right. Sure enough, just as Dunhelm returned to peer down the shadowy passage, a huddled form could be seen moving across the far end of it. Giving the woman an accusatory glare, he ran off down the passage after his foe.
Inquisitor Jacobs smiled to herself. A potentially threatening situation had become full of opportunity. Other people were so weak, so easy to bend to her will, and most of the time they didn’t even realise it. They were like puppets dancing to her whim, unaware of the strings that she could pull and tease with her will. She had not let on to Inquisitor Dunhelm that she knew exactly where the other Inquisitor was because she had been constantly feeding him strength psychically since she had first drawn Dunhelm away from him, so he could help her to oppose Dunhelm if things had gone differently. Now she had forged an alliance with the man to capture this other Inquisitor. This was also, of course, a ruse. She did not need help, she did not need an ally, not right now at least, and she definitely did not want two other inquisitors complicating things, getting in the way and ruining all of her hard work. She would capture them both, find out what they knew, and then tie up the loose ends, leaving no trace back to her, and her investigation could carry on, unimpeded…
After giving him a few seconds head start, Inquisitor Dunhelm had made it halfway down the passageway. That was good enough.
Inquisitor Jacobs started to run after him.
Inquisitor Jacobs started to run after him.
Qunitas Vaelor looked up. The sound of footsteps had surprised him, and now he saw his foe bearing down on him from a side passageway. He groaned, he was discovered, and knew he would not be quick enough to come out well in combat with the effects of his previous drugging still impeding him. He raised his stubber and cracked off a short burst. Most of the shots went wide of the mark. One pinged off his pursuer’s shoulder guard causing him to stumble, but he kept coming. Vaelor drew his chainsword and thumbed the activation stud, preparing for combat. He took a step back, bracing for the incoming charge. The other man was barely six yards away. Then two things happened.
From the shadows behind the charging man a golden figure emerged. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Already airborne from a mighty leap, the gold-armoured woman seemed to hang in the air like a majestic gilded aquilla, arms outstretched. In one hand she held her long power-stave, crackling with energy. In the other a silver-plated laspistol, its long barrel momentarily glinting in the light from the bio-lumes high above. As she fell towards the deck she brought the butt of the laspistol down hard on the back of the head of the charging man. His war-cry dying on his lips he fell heavily to the deck, unconscious.
Then, as the woman landed, surprisingly lightly, on her feet, a wave of nausea washed through Vaelor, as if the power that had kept the drugs at bay had been withdrawn, like a wave retreating from the beach into the ocean once more. He staggered, but did not fall. It seemed his body was overcoming the effects of the drugs at last, and Vaelor drew himself up as much as he could.
Brandishing his weapons in front of himself he cried out, “Stop! I am an Inquisit-”.
The woman reached him. And the stave swung round in a scything arc. Vaelor desperately parried with his chainsword, and stepping to the side brought his pistol up to fire. Both of his shots went wide of the circling woman and she barrelled into his side, pushing him to the floor. He rolled onto his feet and rose into a downward chainsword swing, but he was still too slow and the woman blocked the strike with the haft of her stave before sweeping it back under his guard. His legs taken out from under him, Vaelor crashed to the deck on his back. His stubber skittered from his grip and he took the chainsword in both hands raising it up to protect himself. The woman feinted with her blade before kicking the chainsword away. With no time to react, Vaelor caught a last glimpse of the haft of the stave coming down towards his head, and everything went black.
The woman reached him. And the stave swung round in a scything arc. Vaelor desperately parried with his chainsword, and stepping to the side brought his pistol up to fire. Both of his shots went wide of the circling woman and she barrelled into his side, pushing him to the floor. He rolled onto his feet and rose into a downward chainsword swing, but he was still too slow and the woman blocked the strike with the haft of her stave before sweeping it back under his guard. His legs taken out from under him, Vaelor crashed to the deck on his back. His stubber skittered from his grip and he took the chainsword in both hands raising it up to protect himself. The woman feinted with her blade before kicking the chainsword away. With no time to react, Vaelor caught a last glimpse of the haft of the stave coming down towards his head, and everything went black.
The shuttle powered out of the hangar bay, blue contrails of flame in its wake. The green and grey of the planet loomed large below and Inquisitor Dinara Jacobs steered the small craft towards it. This shuttle was not on the orbital manifest, and therefore its absence would not be noticed. Perhaps it belonged to one of the strangers that lay, restrained in their seat harnesses, bound and unconscious, in the small hold behind her cockpit. Their weapons, equipment and other effects were secured in stowage lockers so they would be out of sight and out of reach should either of them wake up earlier than expected. Dinara smiled. It was time to leave the platform anyway; there was little more that could be learned by being there. Perhaps the strangers would yield useful new information. Perhaps they would simply be useless, an irritating distraction to be dealt with and removed in short order. Perhaps they would become allies after all…
Perhaps.
The investigation must continue. Its success paramount.
The trail led away from orbital sigma-two-five, but she would return to deal with the traitor. Oh yes, she would be back…
Perhaps.
The investigation must continue. Its success paramount.
The trail led away from orbital sigma-two-five, but she would return to deal with the traitor. Oh yes, she would be back…