Zeta-21 commanded his men to spread out in a loose circle as they faced the dark hallway that was, even now, bearing the Inquisitor’s convoy to their base. The troops stationed at the landing ground had informed him of their arrival an hour ago, of course, but he had elected to keep it a secret from the allied forces under his command. The more he could delay the inevitable conflict of interest, the better.

It was impossible to keep it a secret now, anyway. The infosphere logs gave him a moment-by-moment lock on her location. She had almost arrived. Colonel Sand had scrambled with all the desperate energy of a baby grox to make himself presentable as soon as the Skitarii had delivered him the news. Now, freshly shaved and in full ceremonial dress with overcoat, he stood right beside him, flanked by a few of his trusted veteran guards. Upon cursory scans, their combat parameters seemed adequate enough. It was pleasing that their instructors had not strayed from the Omnissiah’s ideals of merit and efficiency.

A Noospheric exload from a patrol bled into his data-flow. They had encountered the Inquisitor’s Taurox transport.

“Where is she?” Sand muttered, adjusting his cap for the twenty-seventh time.

“Palatine Veridara is at an approximate distance of twenty-one feet according to auspex signatures. To contextualize, she should appear from behind that pre-fab habitation complex… now.”

On cue, black power armour peeked out from behind the wall, followed by several more: a small honour guard of five sisters. IFF readings indicated one of them was a squad leader. Their ranking terminology identified her as a ‘Sister Superior’. Needless ornamentation to explain what could easily be understood by an exload-capable electoo or a numbered identifier, or a simple port of rank identifiers from traditional military organizations. Ecclesiastical inefficiency. Typical.

Only the palatine herself had removed her helmet, tucking it under her arm as she jogged up to his right, opposite Sand. Her straight white hair came down to her shoulders, obviously perturbed by repeated attachment and removal of the helmet. Probably without the appropriate rites. His emotional stress indicators spiked at the mere thought of the neglected machine spirits. He forced it down with a depressant infusion, exloading a general directive to the site’s Manifold bridges: re-sensitize all non-Mechanicus forces on wargear upkeep rites.

“Did I miss anything?” Veridara seemed to be under moderate physical stress, judging from elevated breathing and blood pressure.

Sand shook his head, his eyes never straying from the darkness. “Not here yet.”

Zeta-21 let his four new arms stretch out and contort. It had been a while since he had utilized extra limbs. Re-acclimatization was necessary. At least his code-stacks for high-density mechadendrite usage had not atrophied. Redeveloping cognitive bandwidth and controller programs for those was a time-consuming affair. “Infosphere updates indicate that Inquisitor Loran is here.”

“Here? Oh, shit. Look sharp.” Sand stood up straighter, clicking his heels together as the anticipated Taurox broke through the inky darkness, rumbling down towards them at a deliberately leisurely place. A flicker of irritation ran through his thought engrams as he was forced to recalibrate his work schedules. More fleshling tardiness.

“Ego trip. Just great,” Veridara murmured as snapped into a salute too, holding her helmet on her chest.

Finally, after inordinate delay, the vehicle slowed to a stop, opening its doors to either side to disgorge a squad of stormtroopers in green carapace. The Inquisitorial rosette branded proudly into their pauldrons displayed their loyalties clearly. They arrayed themselves on either side of the vehicle, snapping their hellguns up in salute. A moment later, their mistress followed them.

The blinding silver power armour, crammed with purity seals and runes of warding, immediately drew attention, but its occupant was no less deserving of scrutiny. Inquisitor Loran could be said to be conventionally attractive, at least based on the data-sets drawn from the carnal records of Sanctus Ferrum’s own menials. Her features were sharp and well-formed, with a shock of wavy purple hair shaved to the roots on either side. An aesthetic worn with more frequency by underhive gangs than the highest echelons of administration. Her lips were parted in a permanent mocking grin. That did not bode well.

As she approached, Sand brought his hand up in a salute, followed by his guard. The sisters, too, did the same, bringing their weapons up across their chest. The Skitarii remained silent and unmoving, only watching her through their shared info-space. In the eyes of the Machine God, respect was earned by work and cognition. Those who bore the rosette seldom managed either in his experience.

Inquisitor Loran noticed this, because her smile grew slightly wider as she studied his form deliberately. Then, she tilted her head to stare him directly in the optics. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft and lilting. “Well, Skitarius? Do you only salute when told in morse code?”

He raised his head, meeting her gaze. “The Legiones Skitarii does not utilize visual greeting protocols for non-Adeptus Mechanicus personnel. We are unable to fulfil your request.”

“I see. Well, I have this little thing here…” She fingered the golden rosette attached to her neck armour by a high-strength cord. “It deserves a little bit of respect regardless, wouldn’t you say?”

“Our protocols are absolute. We sincerely apologize for any disrespect.” He let a bit of belligerence slip into his synthesized flesh-voice.

“Insubordination,” she sang. “Is this really the way to treat an Inquisitor in your… protocols?”

“Affirmative. I had been commanded to receive you, and you have been received. Now, if you will excuse me, Inquisitor Loran, other objectives demand my attention.” He turned on his heel and began walking away.

He had scarcely gone a few steps before the cocking of a bolt pistol made his combat subroutine flare to life, targeting protocols and martial inloads screaming for attention. He silenced them, turning back to the Inquisitor. She had her gun drawn, pointed straight at his head. In less than a micro-second, every Skitarii and combat servitor in the vicinity had her in their sights, war-spirits roaring to be let loose at their target.

“You will be taught the appropriate respect, tin can. Whether you like it or not.” She gestured with the gun. “Colonel Sand, I command you to place this… person under arrest, to await trial for treason.”

The colonel blinked. “Uh, ma’am, this seems a bit…”

“By my Inquisitorial authority, I command you!”

The regiment’s commissar pushed forward through the steadily gathering knot of guardsmen. “With all due respect, no one gives my men suicidal orders without me knowing about it.”

“Of course. I should have known. Forgeworlder regiment. Once a lapdog, always a lapdog. You, then, palatine.”

Palatine Veridara sighed. “I am forced to ask you to reconsider that order.”

“What?” She laughed derisively. Zeta-21 could sense her stress pheromone concentrations rising. “The Order of the Unbroken Thread disobeys the God-Emperor’s writ?”

Zeta-21 took a step towards her, integrated weaponry swinging out of compartments in each of his arms. His mechadendrites thrummed with motive force. “I would advise against opening fire, or attempting to do so. It will be a futile endeavour that ends only in your termination.”

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“You will not speak to me like that! Stormtroopers!”

“Ma’am!” One of her guards rushed to her side and grabbed her arm in a vice grip. Urgency was apparent in his tone. “The situation is getting a little heated here. Might I suggest that you retire to the transport for a moment while we clarify the modus operandi?”

“I… Perhaps I will at that.” She holstered her pistol, shooting the Skitarii a last distasteful stare. “Make sure that they understand exactly who holds the cards.”

“I will see what I can do. This way, please.” He gestured at the open hatch, practically hauling her to the Taurox simultaneously.

As soon as she was safely locked away, the trooper turned and removed his helmet, revealing a war-worn face. The biggest injury was a thick, white scar running from his nose to the side of his chin, cutting through his thin lips. He shot Zeta-21 a glance that was difficult to analyse, before walking up to Sand. “Colonel Sand. I don’t suppose you remember me, but in case you do, we never did get that drink together.”

The colonel grinned and clasped his arm in greeting. “Sergeant Bax. How could I forget? You were a great help on Lakressa.”

“Oh, you and your Techpriest friends did most of the heavy lifting. We were mostly along for the ride.”

“Be that as it may, without Inquisitor Loran’s ability to predict how the enemy would move, we would have gotten wiped off the board a thousand times over.” He frowned. “To be honest, when I received the missive, I was under the assumption that he would be coming in person. An Acolyte in a mission of this sensitivity seems uncharacteristic, even if she bears his rosette.”

“Inquisitor Loran?” Sergeant Bax barked a short laugh and shook his head. “You’re looking right at her.”

“What? Come on, Bax, I may be going senile, but I’m not quite so far down that road yet. Inquisitor Loran is distinctly remembered as an old hard-ass to rival Gramps himself in the regimental legends.”

Palatine Veridara nodded. “I must agree with the colonel here. My order has had a long history with the Inquisitor, and this… woman is not him.”

“The man you’re describing has taken his place at the Emperor’s side, bless his furious, stuck-up soul.”

“What?” Sand gripped the old man’s arm. “How?”

“We were investigating a Chaos cult, close to the edge of Imperial space. Then boom, the planet erupts into civil war with us still on it. Inquisitor Loran assumed charge of the planetary defence, and things were going good. Until one day, he charged a little too far. You know how he liked his charges. Got cut off from his guards. From us. By the time we found him, the bastards had already finished the job. Took about two dozen of them down with him, though. Defiant to the very end.” Bax made an aquila across his chest.

Both Sand and Veridara copied his gesture. He had neglected to study the inloads regarding the Inquisitor. A shameful oversight. He skimmed through them as quickly as possible. Indeed, their descriptions aligned. The erstwhile Inquisitor Loran had been involved on multiple occasions with Sanctus Ferrum officials. “Inquisitor Loran was specifically chosen to assist on this expedition due to his unobtrusive methodology and cordial relations with the Adeptus Mechanicus. This does not seem to be the Inquisitor Loran our records refer to.”

“No, she’s not. You’re looking at his daughter. She was his top acolyte when he died. Posted on Necromunda, monitoring the underhive gangs. Hence, the… unusual fashion choices.”

“That’s… his daughter?” Sand scratched his chin. “You sure?”

“Well, I never knew the old man to lie about stuff like this, so yeah, most probably. She was the best he had at sniffing out suspicious stuff. Girl’s a bloody hound. Diplomacy, though… yeah. He did not manage to teach her the subtleties of the post before passing on.”

“And her present conduct can be reasonably inferred from that.” Zeta-21 updated this new information to the archives, closing the old file and opening a new one for the daughter.

“She grossly overestimates the power her station accords her sometimes.” He sighed. “At least this wasn’t as bad as last time. Waving a rosette in the face of a First Founding chapter has never worked very well before.”

“Say what?” One of Sand’s guards blinked.

“Had to file a form for a fresh pair of underpants afterwards, I’ll tell you that for free. Either way, I suppose you are in charge of this operation, Skitarius.”

He nodded. “Alpha Zeta-21 at your service. I am the general officer commanding of the expeditionary force.”

“Please, do not think much of her behaviour. I’ll try to put a buffer between you so such incidents do not occur again, but just in case. I promised her father in his final moments that I would keep her safe. It would severely hamper my track record if she happened to accidentally fall on a transonic blade fifty times on her first assignment.”

“I will direct my forces to double-cycle their decision trees every time they parse hostile intent towards her. But I cannot promise safety in the case of explicit belligerence.”

“And I cannot ask for more.” He bowed slightly. “I must make the same requests of you two, colonel, palatine.”

They both nodded.

“Thank you. Now, if you would please tell us where we can set up our camp.”

With a binharic blurt, Zeta-21 summoned a servo-skull. “This will guide you to your allocated location. We can only provide standard pattern pre-fabricated habitation units. Any additional furnishing and luxuries are your own responsibility. Deposit any vehicles in the common motor pool. That will be all, Lieutenant Bax. We will await instructions from the Ark Mechanicus before proceeding any further. Ensure Inquisitor Loran understands that she cannot force us in this either.”

“To my utmost capability.” With another short bow, he jogged over to the Taurox and quickly entered, disappearing from view.

His sensoriums could track the auditory data from inside the vehicle, but he elected not to. This conversation evidently required some amount of privacy. That was not something he would have had to worry about among his own kind; surveillance was only natural in the endless quest for data. All Techpriests, adepts, and soldiers expected to be spied upon almost continuously. The organics had their own little quirks, however: one of them being their irrational understanding of ‘dignity’.

“So… that happened.” Sand nodded at his guards to fall out.

“Indeed, it did. Karina, return the sisters to their duties.” Veridara sighed and put her helmet down on a nearby worktable before joining their slow walk back to the centre of camp.

“I am anticipating insubordination and disruptive behaviour. It was a mistake trying to collaborate with the Inquisition, as always.”

“Hey, cheer up, Zeta.” Sand elbowed him. “At least you got us here because of her.”

“Regardless, the potential for her to cause trouble appears to be fast exceeding benefits.”

“Careful with that kind of talk, Skitarius.”

“Unless you are planning to take any form of action, Palatine Veridara, I do not feel there is any individual currently present who will report this to Loran.”

“I… No. Blast you, but I agree with you.” She sighed. “Should have known it was going to be like this when she held up the vehicles.”

“If her actions continue unabated, my hand may be forced into breaking the compact I just made with the lieutenant.”

Sand shook his head. “Bax is a good man. He served with her father from his earliest days. He’s reasonable, experienced, and a good soldier. Hopefully, he’ll manage something.”

“I harbour nothing but positive expectation for such an eventuality, Colonel Sand. Destroying my own combat assets is the last thing I would like to do. Honestly, though, I would feel better if it was only you and your regiment here. Then I would be sure of where everyone’s loyalties would lie in a worst-case scenario.”

“Whoa.” Veridara raised her hand. “She may be a bitch, but she’s still an Inquisitor. If push comes to shove, we’ll have to obey her, not you. Right, Sand?”

“I mean…”

“Sand?”

The colonel shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“You’re flirting with treason here, colonel! She bears the rosette! It is the Emperor’s will!”

“The Inquisition has made mistakes before, Veridara. Their authority is symbolic. They don’t literally speak with the Omnissiah’s voice.”

“They enforce His will across the Imperium! You can’t go against it!”

“What they interpret to be His will, yes. Doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“Don’t weasel your way out with wordplay, prick. I’m not a cogitator you can confuse.”

“I didn’t know sisters could swear.”

“Well, this one does!”

“If I may interject,” Zeta-21 cut in. The tension in the air was literally palpable, setting his pheromone receptors ablaze with intense emotional indicators. “You are clearly having some form of foundational exchange here, so I feel it is best I give you some privacy until you can resolve your relationship parameters.”

Sand blinked. “Please don’t phrase it like that.”

“Acknowledged. Carry on.” He left both of them behind, proceeding rapidly to the front of the base. Without their organic locomotion systems encumbering him, he blazed across the distance with his cybernetic legs. In the corner of his data-sphere, a notification rune pulsed insistently. It was the real reason he had come away. With a thought, he interfaced with the communication channel.

“Acuitor, this is Zeta-21.”

“I’ve found a deactivated teleportarium system inside our perimeter. It was hidden with deliberate intention. It’s showing signs of activity. Psi-sensor data indicates orkoid specimens in transit. Quantity significant.”

“Acknowledged. Your orders?”

“I will slow them down as much as I can. Your troops need time for refurbishment. Give me a standard hour. Then, begin mobilizing. Create a line of defence to trap whatever hordes remain once I’m done.”

“Understood. Terminate link.”

“May the Omnissiah protect you. Termination acknowledged.”

He put his arms through a fresh acclimatization routine. Those code-stacks really needed to come along quicker.