Year 20

As I had done for her in prison, Mirena came to visit me every three months. We spent a night together. We laid together, ate together, had fun together. We never had sex again, much to our mutual disappointment. I never had another vision, and I never told anyone of my first one.

A few weeks after the one-night-stand between myself and Mirena, Silas arrived back at the Dawnshadow, as I expected. Unlike Mirena, he was physically unharmed. Like myself, when he learned of Mirena’s hand, he wanted blood. He, like me, would need to be satisfied with wanting that forever. He resumed his role as, in many regards, my right-hand-man, though the line had been blurred in the past between he and Hans. With Hans no longer present, there were no remaining contenders for the title.

I told Silas of my plans to make Zha my Interrogator. He thought it was a good idea. I told him the offer of being an Interrogator could also extend to him. “Sir,” he replied. “Respectfully, I want nothing to do with the Inquisition’s formalities. Your orders, and yours alone, are all I care for. If you want me to get something out of someone, I will. If you want me to shoot someone, or a lot of someones, I will. But do not ask for me to associate with your peers, please.”

A great relief to me. His return to the Schola Progenium had not changed Silas’s core character. The Emperor protects.

As the years rolled on, progress began to pick up the pace. Soon, I would be returning to the hunt of heresy. Decades of sitting on my hands would end at last. As the measure of my operation began to form, I petitioned Halloid van der Skar to vacate my quarters aboard the Dawnshadow and instead occupy a vessel I had ‘inherited’ from Antonius Sigird. van der Skar agreed, on the acceptable condition that the vessel be always kept in view of the Dawnshadow.

Two decades after the tribunal had initiated our sentencing, I took my first steps on my new home: Coldbreed. It was an Exorcist-class Grand Cruiser; an outdated model whose overall development line was inherently outdated too. Grand Cruisers were no longer in production, replaced by Battle Cruisers in Naval forces. Grand Cruisers, such as Coldbreed, did not feature the frontal bulkhead that modern Battle Cruisers possessed, but were still formidable and viable weapons platforms all the same. The Exorcist-class in particular specialized in long range patrols, which was exactly what I wanted it for. I planned to disconnect myself from my name, to meet my foes in the shadows first, facing them only in ending them. From the deck of a seven-kilometer warship, I vowed to be the unassuming breeze Zha Trantos had once described of some of my peers.

That I lacked the permission to take the Coldbreed anywhere was fitting, as I was without the requisite crew for any journey at all. Attaining that, as well as the crew for the other vessels of Sigird’s fleet, was part of the next step of my plans. One that I would want Mirena to help me solve.

***

“Well, this is definitely more than a closet,” Mirena noted upon arriving on the bridge of the Coldbreed for the first time. Only a few servitors and servoskulls operated the minimal equipment to keep the vessel operational; for the most part, we were utterly alone, and I ordered such servitors away from us for the time being.

“You’re welcome to move in. You’ve finished with the entirety of your sentencing by now, yes?” I asked.

“I have,” she nodded, and at last stepped up to me for another hug and kiss. Such was a fate we were not appearing to grow out from. But she was, at least, far tamer about it than she had been. “May Castecael join us?” she asked with a giggle.

“Of course,” I grinned, holding her by her waist while her hands crept over my shoulders. Had I the music to play, we may have danced. The thought, then, of music playing through the ship’s halls reminded me of Sigird. It would take some time to recognize my vessels as mine, now, and not his, and to expunge his haunting of my memories. In the immediate, to help escape from my trauma, I kissed Mirena again. She did not seem to mind. “This is a business call, by the way,” I reminded herself, and myself, after that kiss.

“Does it have to be?” she winked. “Alas, the answer with you is yes, isn’t it? So, Cal, what’s your enterprising business up to these days?”

“The usual. Killing heretics. Want in?”

“If it’s by your side, yes,” she shrugged. She, then, seemed to recognize our position as being readied for a dance, and began swaying side to side, trying to tug me along with her. I went along with our soundless ballet.

“I think I could keep you by my side, yes, but I was more certain I would keep you by Castecael’s,” I admitted.

“What do you mean think? What are you planning for the team?” she asked, puzzled, and worried to a small degree. I tilted my head back, toward a board I had been jotting some notes down on. She, then, swayed us on over to it. Upon arrival, she spun out of my grasp and turned to face the board, though she took my hands in hers to then lay them upon her belly while she leaned back against me. I held her still as she looked my schemes over, she still swaying to and fro. “You wish to have us operate independently,” she surmised.

Stolen story; please report.

“To an extent, yes,” I nodded, though she would not have seen the nod. “Nodes are operatives. The connections between nodes describe what I assume are likely interactions between operatives which, therefore, should be accounted for and optimized. This is an Inquisitorial Cell, of presently a single Inquisitor—me—with resources applied to a singular task,” I explained.

“Command-1—I assume that’s you,” she suggested. I muttered a confirmation. “Med-1 is Castecael. Intel-1…Zha?” I muttered another confirmation. She was following along well. “Psyk-1 is Xavier, of course. Strike-1 is Silas. I’m…Logi-1?” she asked.

“If you accept the role, of course,” I offered. “You’re free to decline it and operate within the Command structure too. But I’d really appreciate it if you headed up my logistics operations. Those would be closely intertwined with medicae support, and with Command. Oh, and Strike-1 is Luther. Silas is Tactical-1.”

“I’m not the managerial sort, Cal, I like fast ships and big guns,” she laughed.

“Dangerous though they are, you could still fly them. I’d prefer the group directors serve in roles of unassuming importance to better disguise themselves,” I answered.

“OK, I’ll think on it. But what’s the 1’s all about? Where are the 2’s?” she asked.

“Still debating on some of the exact terminology. Current line of reasoning is that the 1’s of an operational unit are that unit’s directors. The 2’s are the next in line, the 3’s next after them, and so forth. Then for subgroups, any individual could recruit additional members to their task. A member might identify as being Command-1-4, being the fourth recruit to answer to Command-1, myself. Command-1-4-5 would be the fifth member that answers to the leadership of Command-1-4. And so forth. I’m also looking for a Comms director and a Covert director. If you feel you’d rather head those up,” I suggested with a shrug.

“I don’t imagine they’d be as close to Med-1,” Mirena suggested.

“Probably not,” I confirmed. “Thoughts?”

“Well, other than still being undecided on the role I want to play, I think I should have visited you more often. Clearly, you’ve had too much time on your hands,” she giggled.

I laughed, then sighed. “Oh, if only you knew, Mirena.”

“You’re talking to the ex-convict. I know,” she assured me. “Cal, one of the first things they teach you in the Navis Imperialis and, I assume, the Astra Militarum, is the importance of a banner. Of a name. Do you have one in mind?”

“I have not given it a fair thought, no,” I shook my head.

“May I suggest one, then?”

“Please.”

“The 9th and Final,” Mirena suggested.

We stood in silence for a long while then. I rested my head against hers but otherwise looked over my board, of the nodes who represented my closest allies. My closest friends. After several minutes of considering the life of mine that placed those friends of mine onto that board, into what would undoubtedly be harm’s way, I squeezed at Mirena tightly. “Yes. I think that’s a good idea, Mirena. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Cal.”

Year 29

Mirena and Castecael did move in aboard the Coldbreed. So, too, did everyone else, though Silas and his gang had more active recruitment to partake in. Mirena did too, though she was pretty good at working remotely, which was a big plus in the field of logistical support. A role which, ultimately, she chose to accept, on the condition that she and I not only continue to share a drink after a successful operation, but that she also would then owe me a flight on a world of her choosing likewise. I was happy to agree. The Bird moved in to the Coldbreed too. Things began to fall into place, I thought.

I truly had no idea what that meant.

In addition to needing to keep the Coldbreed close to Dawnshadow, I was also required to make regular reports of my continued existence to van der Skar. I usually did not receive responses to these reports, which I felt was probably a good thing. However, on the fifth month of the 29th year of my sentence, after making the usual report, I received this response:

+++++++++++++++++TRANSMITTED: Quintus

+++++++++++++++++RECEIVED: Coldbreed

+++++++++++++++++DATE: 3 564 842.M41

+++++++++++++++++REF: IQST/236470931618711591279947731/CB

+++++++++++++++++AUTHOR: HvdS

+++++++++++++++++SUBJECT: Presence Requested

>>BEGIN TRANSMISSION<<

>>PROCESSING<<

>>DOWNLOAD COMPLETE<<

May this message find you well, Inquisitor Blackgar. Your presence is formally requested aboard the Dawnshadow once more.

Return at once.

The Emperor Protects.

>>END CODED MESSAGE<<

>>TRANSMISSION TERMINATED<<

Not one to ignore a properly-signed message from my superior, I informed my crew that I would need to make the short journey back to the Dawnshadow. Mirena volunteered to fly me there, and I took her up on that offer. For old time’s sake, we took the Bird, which was hardly a typical transport craft, but it was spaceworthy, and it had fulfilled the role in the past. Mirena remained with the Bird once we had docked, and I proceeded on my own to van der Skar’s office.

I did not have to wait long for admittance. In addition to van der Skar, three tall figures in black power armor stood waiting for me. One was far taller than the others. “Ah, Inquisitor Blackgar,” van der Skar greeted me. “Good to see you in the flesh once more. I trust your sentencing carries on well, even aboard your latest residence?”

I had, until then, been staring at the tallest figure in the room. They, too, stared silently at me through two red slits for their eyes, a streak of white racing down the center of their Sabbat Pattern Helm. I needed a moment to gather my wits to turn to face van der Skar, who was possessed of a knowing grin. “Yes, sir, it does,” I confirmed for him.

“You appear a bit shaken. I can only imagine as to why,” he toyed with me, still smiling. “You have new oversight. Allow me to introduce you to Sister Marcia Kane, Sister Emilia Catanz, and Sister Superior Lucene Flint,” he said, gesturing to the Sisters of Battle in the room. “For the next six years, they will answer to me and report on your continued sanctity aboard the Coldbreed. After that period of time, when your sentence concludes, their charge falls to you.”

“Sisters,” I greeted them, bowing slightly.

“Cal,” Lucene, the tallest of them, replied with a warm nod.