= XV =
Consequences
THE PLATFORM WAS a frenzy of activity, the engines of the landed shadowhawk cycling ready for immediate take-off.
‘Thank the Emperor you made it,’ said Apothecary Sören, racing to Markius and slipping under Rasmus’s other arm to help take the weight. ‘I’m not sure how much longer the inquisitor would wait.’
Lars and Gunnar were already on board the gunship it seemed, and the other marines helped the limping Psirens and members of Omega squad towards the open rear access ramp. Sister Miriam and the two bewildered children were escorted by Brother Olaf. There seemed to be too much shouting going on, and Markius wondered if the marines were arguing with Zharn inside the shadowhawk. Tobias and Andreus dashed over to Markius when they saw the captain.
‘Captain! You made it!’ Andreus said, helping Sören to lower Rasmus to a sitting position.
Tobias sighed with relief and said, ‘Time to go!’
‘No. I’m going back in,’ said Markius. Tobias and Andreus both stared at him.
Tobias rolled his eyes and said, ‘Again? What now?’
‘Athena is still inside,’ said Markius.
Tobias cursed and said, ‘We are never going to get out of this damned place!’
Andreus said, ‘Captain, we can’t save everyone in the entire galaxy…’
‘I have to do this. Hold the ‘hawk as long as you can, but go when you must,’ said Markius. ‘The Emperor protects.’
They opened their mouths to object, but Markius cut them off, ‘That’s an order!’
‘Then I’m going with you!’ Rasmus snarled, attempting to get to his feet. His leg wouldn’t respond and he slipped on the ferrocrete.
Markius looked at him and said, ‘You’re not going anywhere, old friend.’
‘No!’ roared Rasmus, still fighting his broken body to try and rise.
‘You’ll just slow me down,’ said Markius, ‘that leg is useless without treatment. Right, Sören?’
The Apothecary nodded, his face ashen as he assessed the damage to Rasmus.
‘You’re not going alone,’ Rasmus shouted, ‘Patch me up, Apoth!’
‘This will need more than synth-skin,’ Sören said, trying to restrain Rasmus, ‘Keep still!’
‘Apothecary, sedate this man,’ said Markius, as Rasmus tried to strike at Sören. Markius turned and tried not to hear Rasmus’s howl of anger, soon cut short as Sören administered the field-supply injection.
‘Captain! Turn back now!’ came a distant shout. It was Zharn, calling from the shadowhawk ramp. Markius ignored him and marched back towards the entrance hatch into Crawl. He had a promise to keep.
‘
Markius!’ a hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Markius found himself staring into the scowling green eyes of Sergeant Goran. ‘I’m going with you.’
‘Not now, Goran,’ said Markius.
Not again, he thought. ‘Get on that gunship.’
‘Negative, Captain,’ Goran snarled right back at him, flexing his bionic powerfist. ‘You need someone to watch your back.’
Like a goat needs a ravenous ice bear to watch his kids, thought Markius. He stopped, checking himself. A conversation with Sergeant Rasmus that seemed like an age ago flitted across his memory.
He is trying, for the sake of the Emperor’s Talons; Rasmus’s words came to him.
You must fight your pride and work together, Markius told himself.
‘I’m not trying to take anything away from you,’ Goran said, ‘Let me help you.’
Markius nodded and said, ‘Alright, Sergeant. We do this together.’
* * *
THEY FOUND HER a hundred metres from the elevator chamber, still struggling against the mob. A dozen of the heretics had hoisted her above their heads, attempting to carry her off to one of their shrines of torture. Her pistol was long gone, and the short blade had been lost too. Still Athena clawed and kicked and writhed with all her might, her slender body proving difficult to restrain even for so many hands. Even as Markius and Goran charged, a metal bar clanged across the back of her neck and she fell still.
Markius swept the
Salvator in a horizontal arc, cleaving through the chest of the nearest howling heretic. Then he ducked a stub-pistol aimed point blank at his face and drove the relic blade into the belly of the shooter. The heretic died in a pool of blood as Markius jerked his weapon out of the twitching body.
Beside him, Goran rampaged. The massive powerfist at the end of his bionic arm delivered blows like a ramming tank, and the unarmoured bodies of heretics exploded on impact. The two marines fought back-to-back, destroying heretics with each strike. Markius’s face was a blood-streaked mask of grim satisfaction.
Finally Markius decapitated the heretic that clutched Athena’s wrists above his head, shearing through his arms at the same time, and those behind dropped her to face the new threat. Goran surged past him, smashing faces and shattering chests, as Markius caught the falling body of Athena. She was out cold and bled from countless wounds, her alabaster skin slick with blood, but she still had a pulse.
Goran turned and faced him as the last heretics had a fit of common sense and scrambled away. He said, ‘Come on, let’s hope the ‘hawk is still waiting for us!’
They loped back down the narrow tunnel towards the elevator, but halted abruptly as it widened into an intersection. Markius gaped in amazement as they came face-to-face with the last person in the entire galaxy they expected to meet.
* * *
‘HO THERE! BROTHERS!’ said the accented voice. Goran and Markius exchanged astonished looks before returning their gaze to the lead figure.
It was him: The Crimson Paladin from Ornisgard, resplendent in his pennant-festooned power armour, the familiar cross and skull symbol painted across his shoulder pouldron. The scorched brown face cracked into a grin, exposing pearly white and unnaturally sharp teeth, framed by the moustache and pointed beard of jet-black hair. There were more crimson armoured marines behind, their elaborate helmets topped by ceremonial dragons and lions. They snapped up bolters to their shoulders, aiming right for Markius and Goran. But the leader held up a hand to stop them firing, a scarlet tongue licking his canines.
‘You are Imperial space marines?’ said the leader. His oily eyes flitted, scanning their uniforms. ‘We are the celebrated and righteous Crimson Paladins. Pray tell, what is your chapter?’
Markius did not know what to say, and beside him Goran also gaped.
‘Probably some young, lesser chapter,’ chuckled one of the Paladins behind the leader, the voice harsh and metallic as it came from his helmet’s vox-amplifier. His helmet was angular and the colour of dull steel, but a figurine of a raging bull reared at its top. They lowered their weapons and relaxed. Markius was too busy trying to think of what to say to be angry at the insult.
‘Indeed; why hide your heraldry otherwise?’ said the leader. His eyes continued to assess them, and his dark brows creased as he tried to make sense of this meeting. His gaze settled on Athena, limp in Markius’s arms, and he peered with confusion at her face.
‘We are
incognitus,’ said Markius, keeping his voice level. ‘Inquisition business, brother.’
Beside him, Markius could sense Goran was staring very hard at the Crimson Paladins.
‘Do you
know me from somewhere, brother?’ the leader asked of Goran, but Markius and Goran only shrugged.
‘You have only a black shield as your heraldry. What is the meaning of that?’ said the bull-helmeted Paladin, pointing to Goran’s shoulder plastron.
The leader finally seemed to sense something was wrong, and his smile turned to a frown. He said, ‘And this facility is now under the jurisdiction of the Ordo Hereticus. Who is she? What is your mission here?’
‘That’s… classified,’ said Markius, knowing he had to do something very quickly, conscious of the fragile body he carried in his arms.
‘And
that’s for the Father Chaplain!’ Goran suddenly hissed.
He surged at the leader, so fast he caught everyone by surprise, including Markius. Markius opened his mouth to shout but was too late. Goran struck the leader with the full force of his powerfist, a blow powerful enough to punch through titanium armour. But the leader blinked and activated some device in his power armour just in time. As the punch landed the Paladin was surrounded by an aura of crackling energy.
The blow stopped inches short of the leader’s face, the energy field bursting into blinding light as it absorbed the fantastical strength of the powerfist. But the full inertia could not be neutralised and the Paladin was hurled backwards to crash into his men behind.
‘Come on!’ yelled Goran, dashing for the elevator chamber. Markius needed no encouragement, jerking into action and sprinting after him. The shouts of the Crimson Paladins echoed after them as they tried to disentangle themselves from each other.
Markius and Goran passed through the doorway to the chamber, and Goran quickly turned and slammed the closing rune. He smashed the control panel as the door rolled shut. Markius, now with Athena slumped over one shoulder, loped over to the elevator on the other side and opened the door. His hearts thundered in his chest.
‘That won’t hold them long,’ Goran said as they both darted into the elevator and sent it on its journey back down to delta level.
Goran knelt and began tearing up one of the floor panels inside the lift as it rattled downwards. Markius stared at him, listening for any sign of the Paladins above. Goran glanced up at Markius and saw his questioning look.
‘We may need to drop the rest of the distance if they can stop the elevator from up there,’ he said.
Markius continued staring, hearts beating furiously. An unexpected and surprising thought had come to him, one that had never occurred before. Goran’s rage as he struck the Paladin had been evident, and Markius knew exactly how he felt. Goran had loved the Father Chaplain just as much as Markius did. He mourned him just as much as Markius did.
Goran saw that Markius was still staring at him and said, ‘I’m sorry, Captain. I couldn’t help it… but we needed to do something…’
‘I know,’ said Markius, nodding, still staring. ‘I only wish you had taken his head off!’
Goran shot a wolfish grin back.
‘It hurt you, didn’t it?’ Markius said as the elevator continued its descent, ‘when the Father Chaplain made me captain.’
A marine-sized hole now torn out of the middle of the lift cage, Goran straightened and looked back at Markius, unsmiling.
He said, ‘How would you have felt, if it had been me he chose to be captain?’
Markius thought about it for several moments, then said, ‘Then I would have hated your glorious guts.’
Goran snorted but did not smile. He said, ‘Then at last we understand each other.’
With a screech of metal, the lift suddenly jerked to a halt. The flickering luminator finally died, plunging the cage into darkness. Without a word, the marines dropped one after another, falling five metres before landing on the grilled level below. Then they scrambled off into the tunnels back towards platform 7.
* * *
‘FINALLY!’ SAID TOBIAS, as Goran and Markius gratefully stumbled past him into the back of the shadowhawk. Tobias signaled the pilot and almost instantly the engines roared and the gunship was airbourne. They had outrun any pursuit. Markius peered back through the narrowing gap of the closing ramp at the rapidly shrinking mining facility – Crawl – and knew he would be thankful never to see it again.
He followed Goran through to the passenger deck and gently laid Athena on a spare grav-seat. Nyx and the other Psirens came to her aid, strapping her in and checking her wounds. Markius looked around at the damaged, exhausted marines, and they stared back. He saw Brother Patreus, his burns now congealed into an ugly red scar that covered fully half his head. Then he saw Rasmus, unconscious, strapped into a grav-seat and with his leg in a splint. Markius wondered why he was not in the medical bay, and then remembered the two berths would be full.
Markius glanced at Sören and said, ‘Lars and Gunnar?’
‘Lars will make it, but with heavy augmetics,’ replied Sören. When he didn’t mention Gunnar, Markius understood and silently cursed. Along with Bhurgsson and Jenner, that made three lost to the insanity of Crawl.
‘We have Gunnar’s geneseed, at least,’ said Sören, referring to the vital and precious implant that was required to create new marines. Markius nodded, though it seemed little consolation. How were they ever going to start rebuilding a chapter from this? Only Sören would try to find a way. He realised making Sören Apothecary had been one of his best command decisions. The golden haired marine now finally had a purpose and a specialty he could focus all his considerable intellectual powers on. That, at least, was one thing Markius could take pride in.
Pride: Markius’s memory was drawn back to the avenue, and he remembered his actions, when that… thing had been whispering to him. He looked around, and saw in the eyes of the marines they were all thinking the same thing. They looked haunted. Despite the optimism of their new identity, they had nearly fallen apart.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘We all know what happened out there, when the whispers got into our heads.’
Some lowered their eyes. Some stared at their hands. Tobias did not look at him.
‘But that was not the
real us. It tried to change us, but we beat it! So be proud. We
beat it, and did the Emperor’s work this day!’ said Markius.
He tried to inject more conviction into the statement, but knew how close the company had come to disintegrating, as had he. Renaming their chapter had not banished their conflicts. He looked over at Goran and spoke directly to him, ‘We both suffer from the same desires.’
‘It got us all,’ interrupted Tobias, his tone flat, guilty. ‘It worked on our fears, not just our desires.’
‘You did not show fear, Tobias,’ said Goran, to Markius’s surprise. ‘You were trying to protect the company. No man thinks less of you for that.’
Markius thought about it and realised Goran was right. Perhaps Tobias was not such a bad lieutenant, if only to counterbalance his own tendency to take risks. Tobias always erred on the side of caution. He corrected himself; caution was no error.
‘And what about you, eh, Andreus?’ said Goran, and all eyes turned to the white-haired sergeant with the stubbly attempt of a beard.
‘
All of you; snap out of it!’ Goran mimicked his vox signal. There were some laughs. The mood lightened just a fraction. Andreus smiled sheepishly.
‘Oho, and finally you're not so horribly ugly,’ Brother Borias chided Brother Patreus. The one side of Patreus’s mouth that still moved properly grinned back at Borias, whose own bullet-smooth head had again miraculously managed to avoid injury. Patreus’s smile was a more of a grimace.
‘Still not as pretty as you, eh Babyface?’ Patreus snarled back. There were a few snorts and laughs. More comments were exchanged between marines sitting opposite each other.
‘Why didn’t you suffer from the desires?’ Markius whispered to Andreus as the other marines chatted.
‘Maybe I did,’ shrugged Andreus. ‘But it worked for us anyway.’
Markius waited for the explanation, and Andreus said, ‘My greatest desire was to earn your respect.’
‘Well, you certainly did that, Sergeant. You were solid as an ice mountain out there,’ said Markius, allowing his voice to rise.
Murmurs of approval rippled around the passenger chamber. Finally the tension among the marines was starting to drain away, and they were beginning to realise they had completed their mission successfully. It was an important moment for soldiers, the time of reflection after frenetic combat. They could finally share that precious unspoken brotherhood of warriors who had fought and bled together, despite the doubts that still nagged.
Markius exhaled and rolled his shoulders, glancing to the still unconscious Rasmus. Nearby, he saw Sister Miriam and the two children cowering in a corner.
Surprised, he remembered that he was still carrying the ancient powersword that she had gifted him: The
Salvator. He knew it had been worth it; taking the decision to go back and rescue them. However, he now had a new problem to deal with.
As if reading his mind, the brass-plated door at the far end of the passenger chamber clanked open and there stood Inquisitor Zharn, his paternal face furious.
‘Captain Markius, a word,’ he said, and for all the bergs on Prism, Markius thought he was trying to impersonate the Father Chaplain. Markius stomped through the chamber and the marines watched him go.
* * *
‘YOU DISOBEYED A direct order,’ Zharn frowned at him when the door to the cramped medical bay closed behind Markius. Lars and Gunnar lay either side of them in stasis berths against the walls. The door beyond Zharn, leading to the cockpit, was closed.
‘Your orders did not reconcile, Inquisitor,’ Markius attempted to remain calm, logical. He was slightly unnerved by Zharn’s calm anger. ‘I was to evacuate the so-called research team, and I did it.’
‘Don’t you blame this on Athena: I’ll deal with her later, but you have no excuse. I should shoot you for mutiny!’ said Zharn.
‘You do that and you will have a company of angry space marines to deal with,’ said Markius.
‘Do not test my patience,’ Zharn said, ‘or I will send you all back to your Emperor-forsaken moon.’
‘And yet you can’t do that either,’ countered Markius. ‘We are locked together by your secrets now!’
‘I will not work with you if I can’t trust you to follow my orders,’ said Zharn. ‘I carry the Emperor’s authority! Why in the galaxy I picked you up before you had completed your psycho-indoctrination, I don’t know.’
‘And I can’t trust you if you keep lying to me!’ said Markius. ‘You sent my men into this mission with false parameters. How can you expect us to follow your orders in such circumstances?’
‘I didn’t tell you because I could not afford you all to go off on some crazy quest of vengeance!’ shouted Zharn, surprising Markius. Zharn never shouted. The inquisitor calmed himself and said, ‘Did you encounter any other Imperials down there?’
The implications of the question hit Markius like an electrical jolt and his eyes widened. He said, ‘You knew they were going to be Crimson Paladins down there! That’s why you wanted us out!’
‘And that answers my question,’ said Zharn. He exhaled in annoyance, then looked Markius directly in the eye. Markius knew the inquisitor would spot any lie now. Zharn said, ‘Did you do or say anything that would give your previous identity away?’
Markius thought about it for several moments.
‘No,’ he started, but changed his mind, ‘I don’t think so. I can’t be sure. We needed to leave in a hurry.’
Zharn’s lip curled with annoyance, but then the wall-mounted vox-unit hissed into life.
‘Boss, I’ve got Gaius,’ came Burrin’s gravelly voice from the cockpit.
‘Put him through,’ Zharn instantly replied, keying the vox panel.
‘
Arcis to Shadow One. Interrogation: Status?’ came the tech-priest’s robotic voice.
‘We’re on our way,’ Zharn replied.
‘Gratification,’ said Gaius, ‘we are getting some rather… awkward questions from the flotilla.’
‘You are Mechanicus extracting assets; keep to it,’ said Zharn, ‘We are still cloaked. Burrin, ETA?’
‘Forty minutes,’ came the stocky pilot’s response.
‘Comprehension: out,’ said Gaius and the vox went dead.
Zharn rounded on Markius and jabbed a finger at his chest. Despite their considerable difference in heights, the older man still exuded authority.
‘This is not the end of this matter,’ warned Zharn.
It is, for now, Markius thought but did not say. Instead he turned on his heel and pressed the release for the brass-plated door back to the passenger deck.
‘I have to see to my men, my wounded and my dead,’ he grunted over his shoulder.
Zharn let him go without further word and Markius stomped back through to the passenger deck. He slumped into a seat opposite Rasmus, and smiled when he saw the big man had regained consciousness, barely. Rasmus’s eyes rolled around like he had drunk too much ale.
‘Captain,’ he said. ‘I lost it out there, eh?
Twice. I’m sorry…’
‘Don’t worry, old friend,’ said Markius, leaning forwards. ‘We’ve all been through this. The main thing is that you are still in one piece. You really wanted to lose your legs today, eh?’
Rasmus chuckled weakly and Markius glanced to Sören.
‘The muscle-mass might have regenerated, given enough time, but the bones and infection…’ said the Apothecary.
Markius looked back at Rasmus, but the big man shrugged, still feeling the effects of the sedation. He said, ‘So I’ll get a bionic. The tech-priests will have me kicking again.’
Markius shook his head, admiring the man’s indomitable spirit. He said, ‘
Patch me up, Apoth?’
Rasmus chuckled again, recognising himself being quoted, and this time other marines who had overheard the remark joined in.
‘Is this some new nickname for Sören the men haven’t told me about?’ said Markius.
Rasmus grinned back and said, ‘You should hear what we call you behind your back, Captain.’ Then his face turned grave and he said, ‘You shouldn’t have gone back in alone.’
‘I didn’t,’ said Markius, glancing down the aisle to the sergeant of Epsilon squad. ‘Goran came with me.’
Rasmus smiled faintly and nodded, slipping back into unconsciousness. He whispered, ‘That’s sorted out then, eh?’
Not quite, thought Markius, but they were getting there. He noticed Athena had also awoken and was exchanging whispers with the Psirens. He hauled himself out of his seat, finally realising how utterly exhausted he was, and dragged himself to sit beside her.
‘Feeling better?’ he said. The other Psirens moved away and strapped into grav-seats.
‘You came back for me,’ she said, her violet eyes looking into his.
‘
Against orders.’
‘I didn’t think you… anyone…’ she started.
‘Perhaps, you should have a little more faith,’ Markius interrupted, smiling at her.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. All the cynicism and flippancy were gone.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, enjoying her moment of discomfort, just a little. ‘I suggest you can’t call me
Saranen any more.’
At last the mischievous smile returned. She said, ‘I owe you that much, I suppose.’
‘And stop with the blasphemy,’ demanded Markius.
She nodded submission, and glancing to the sword he carried she said, ‘Thank you,
Salvator.’
* * *
INQUISITOR WILLIAM ZHARN checked his wrist chronometer when the servo-skull warbled, announcing a visitor to his luxurious apartment aboard the
Arcis Indicium. He knew they would have picked up any signs of pursuit long before now.
‘Enter,’ he said, turning in his Ohinian cow-leather recliner, and was surprised to see the cowled figure of Aul Vespasius when the door swished open. The skeletal psyker shuffled in, leaning on his staff.
Zharn checked his chronometer again and said, ‘Can’t sleep either?’
‘Too much clamour,’ rasped the old man and Zharn nodded in understanding. Though his own psychic sensitivity was not near that of the astropath’s, it was always uncomfortable traveling through the warp: Those ever-present whispers scratching at the back of his mind, the knowledge that uncountable
entities were right there, outside, clawing at the Gellar field that protected the ship.
‘
Inside the ship and outside,’ said Aul, as if reading his mind.
Zharn did not reply, but instead waved a hand for Aul to take a seat at the black marble table, knowing the blind man would sense the gesture. He rose and padded to the crystal glass drinks cabinet. Aul sank gratefully into a seat as Zharn poured them both bulbs of amasec. He returned and sat in his own seat, pushing Aul’s drink towards him across the tabletop.
Aul took a sip and sighed, his skinny shoulders sagging. Zharn thought he looked more ancient and decrepit than ever, and wondered at the mental strain of his profession.
‘You took a terrible risk, William, sending unprepared minds into that place,’ said Aul. ‘You know what they may have faced.’
‘A
calculated risk,’ Zharn gently countered. ‘Their faith is strong, and it turned out to be the right choice.’
‘And what if it had gone wrong?’ the ancient psyker said. ‘You could have made some powerful enemies today.’
‘But it didn’t,’ Zharn remained firm. Nonetheless, he knew things had gone far from as planned.
‘You are going to have to start trusting people, William,’ said Aul. Zharn exhaled. He didn’t want to have this conversation now. He said, ‘You of all people know why we must keep our secrets, Aul.’
‘I will never forget what you did for me on that Black Ship, all those years ago,’ said Aul, ‘but even if I understand your ends, I find myself questioning your
means.’
‘I am an inquisitor, Aul,’ said Zharn. ‘The ends always justify the means!’
‘When are you going to
train him?’ said Aul, his voice cracking with exasperation. ‘What if something had been set off?’
‘When he’s ready,’ said Zharn, still unwilling to discuss the subject. ‘When
I’m ready. He’s already proved he can defend himself. These things need to be done at the right pace.’
Aul did not answer, but Zharn knew he was not satisfied. They both stared at the blast doors currently covering the great fenestra that formed one wall of the chamber. Zharn wondered whether Aul’s powers could also see the night-sky aurora pattern he had currently programmed into the holo-unit. Moments passed and Aul finished his drink.
Finally the old astropath struggled to his feet and seemed to make a decision. He rasped, ‘I suppose you had better take a look at this. The header came uncoded.’
Zharn started with surprise when Aul produced a dataslate from his robes.
‘A transmission?’ said Zharn, taking the offered dataslate.
Aul handed it to him and shuffled back to the door, which hissed open automatically.
‘I hope you treated
her well, William,’ Aul said, just before the doors closed again.
Zharn pressed his inquisitorial signet ring to the receptor disc at the base of the dataslate. The arcane machine spirits within the ring briefly conversed with those of the dataslate, and then the scrambled, coded runes resolved themselves into the true message. He spent several moments reading it, then hurled it at the shield-wall in anger.
+++
Origin: Bracara /Civ Fac/G-10
Date: 2/064898.M41
Re-transmitted: N/A
Ref: Private Transmission
Received: -
Destination: [Classified]
Telepathic Duct: Astropath-terminus Gestus
Author: Name withheld
Thought for the day: Follow the Emperor’s Light
My dear,
This will be my last message. I have some awkward matters to deal with, and some difficult questions to answer. However, I thought you would want to see the below.
Love,
X
[Enact Coding Protocol]
Origin: Battle Barge
Santa CatarinaDate: 2/058898.M41
Re-transmitted: N/A
Ref: Inq/0ii23914311/BH-ADD
Received: IQ-OM CHQ
Destination: IQ-T01
Telepathic Duct: Astropath-terminus Erastus
Author: Inquisitor Kristatos Kielman, Ordo Hereticus
Thought for the day: Vigilance is next to Holiness
My Lords,
We have successfully completed the cleanse mission on Callasia 9 – and the entity there has been destroyed. Unfortunately, almost the entire population had been tainted and I was left with no alternative but to order complete extermination. The Crimson Paladins, as usual, conducted this mission with their customary ferocious determination, and I believe the innocent casualties were acceptable. The Imperial Navy and Cult Mechanicus are now coordinating replacement and repair crews. I consider the mission successfully completed.
However, another matter has come to light and I require your dispensation to pursue a new investigation. As you know, the [expunged] matter was considered closed on my last transmission, but Commander Do Largo has reported to me a disturbing incident prior to the cleansing of MMS-18-G-12. It seems operatives of the Ordo Xenos were present at the facility, but I have no explanation as to what they were doing there, and have received unsatisfactory replies to my inquiries from our colleagues at Kar Duniash.
The operatives attacked Do Largo and his men in order to escape, and something one of the operatives said has caused Do Largo to doubt that the [expunged] matter is, in fact, completely closed. Not only is this disturbing thought cause for concern, but I am also worried we may be dealing with a rogue element within our own blessed ranks.
With your permission, I would like to retain the services of the Crimson Paladins until I can find some answers and put these doubts to rest.
I remain, your humble servant,
Inquisitor Kristatos Kielman
+++