They say that it’s not the fall that kills you; it’s the sudden stop at the end. Although the fall was very modest, the sudden stop killed Grand Confessor Morion very dead. At least he died in a state of Grace, in a part of the Ship's Chapel, facing an Ikon of the Emperor Immortal. He also died as the noose around his neck tightened, tore lose two of his implant cables, and broke his neck. He hung, his sightless eye open, apparently scanning the glorious artwork of the room.

Although a part of his mind had been prepared by the earlier warnings, the Inquisitor’s train of thought was disturbed by a sudden lurch. The deck seemed to fall away and then suddenly slide to the left. It was hard to believe that something as huge as the Orlanth Rex could move so suddenly. He quickly regained his composure and continued his analysis.

Things were very wrong aboard the Orlanth Rex. Things had been very wrong since Inquisitor Roberto Brake, senior member of the Ordo Veritas, had boarded the Orlanth Rex, flagship of Admiral Vladimir M’Dhu, at Norcross III. His electrograft enhanced memory reviewed the events of recent weeks, the many insults given to the person and institution of the Inquisition, the curious tension between Admiral M’Dhu, who might be a traitor, a heretic and a coward, and his own flag-captain Zoltoy and Fleet Commissar Borax. The combat efficiency of the great battleship had been seriously compromised by a vigorous hunt for Chaos taint lead by Grand Confessor Morion. Over ten percent of the crew had been executed, officers, ratings, and even staff of Magos Technicus Mechanicus Bohr, who were definitely not under the authority of direct fleet command. One of Brake’s own bodyguard had been executed. The Inquisitor, theoretically, had the power and authority to have everyone on the ship executed but, under the current conditions aboard, he bided his time. Any effort to exercise his authority would likely result in the destruction of the Orlanth Rex and the crippling of an important Imperial fleet. High Inquisitor Sigismondo had placed him in this position for some reason. Brake realized at least that it was almost certainly because he was not a man of action like so many Inquisitors. He was an analyst, a thinker, a man of logic. He would watch and wait. Already many had dismissed him as weak and possibly fearful. Greater then would be the surprise.

He was analyzing these events during a fleet combat drill. The hatches were battened and the Orlanth Rex was at Collision Stations as the fleet drilled for ramming attack. He had been privately warned by Admiral M’Dhu to expect the unexpected. To have overcome the effects of the grav-dampers, the lurch and turn must have strained the very fabric of the great vessel. Somebody took their ramming drills very seriously. From what Brake had seen, such people were very few aboard the Orlanth Rex.

The Inquisitor needed a little time to study the room so, before others could do anything, he fell to his knees and started the Prayer for the Dead and then the Prayer for Forgiveness; the basic prayers necessary to save Morion’s soul. All the others present joined in. During the Reflection, the Inquisitor asked for the Emperor’s personal Forgiveness for using a sacred ceremony for his own purposes.

He had comparatively little to observe. There was Grand Confessor Morion’s body hanging from a cord attached to a horizontal buttress, looped over about one quarter of the way from central pier to the wall. The neck was obviously broken. His feet were about a foot above the enameled mosaics of the floor; a depiction of the Emperor in some ancient aspect that the Inquisitor was not familiar with. A short distance away from the body was a stool, lying on it’s side. It was very easy to see Morion standing on the stool, tying the noose and looping it around his neck, saying his prayers to the Ikon of the Emperor, then kicking the stool away and dropping down to meet him in person. There was no other furniture in the room. The Inquisitor knew from his study of the plans of the Orlanth Rex that there was only one way into the room except for two access and inspection hatches, and that one side of the room lay along the inner armour belt that formed part of the hull of the ship. A solid, unbroken, expanse of force-shield fortified adamantium, over two feet thick. It was typical of naval design that non-critical spaces were placed near the hull so that in the event of a breach, the fighting efficiency of the ship would be impaired as little as possible. That reason also explained the heavy buttresses all throughout the chapel complex. They provided the traditional forms and structures for the chapel, true, but more importantly, they were essential supports for the collision bulkhead. No matter how holy, everything contributed to the structure of the vessel itself.

‘Commissar Borax, you knew the Grand Confessor best. Could you please take charge of his body. Grauman, assist him. I want to know when, where, and how, he died.’ He need to take charge, but he knew that any attempt to give orders to Borax would be met with resistance. It was a common fault of those given power that the valued Honor and their own importance far above their Duty. Even Inquisitors were vulnerable to this. Borax seemed a little distracted, so he took advantage of this. The Admiral was standing, waiting for instructions, or perhaps just observing; he was hard to read.

‘Who discovered the body and what do we know of the death?’

‘High-Deakon Baske found the body. After he reported the death, I sent Lieutenant Verdi and a party of Storm Troops to secure the chapel. We had just completed our ramming drill and his boarding party was defending against Boarding Pod attack in the Plaza.’

‘Bring him here, I need to question him, please.’ The “please “was added as an afterthought. There seemed no reason to antagonize the Admiral.

‘There is a Lectern in his cell off the Cloister.’ The Admiral left and Brake watched as Borax and Grauman’s Examiners cut down the body and laid it on the floor. Brake looked at the Scriptor and could tell that he was assembling all the information from the ship’s machine spirit and recording the examination of the body. Brake felt frustrated. There was so much that he wanted to do and although, in theory, he could give orders and expect to have them obeyed, he knew that he would meet resistance at every point. Besides, he had his own ideas already.

Lieutenant Verdi, the Admiral, and a very stout Deakon arrived shortly after. The Deakon attempted to approach the body, but Proctor Paramedes blocked him with the flat of his power axe.. He turned first toward the Admiral and then, getting no response, to the Inquisitor.

‘Do not worry Deakon. The Prayer of the Dead has been said, and the Prayer of Forgiveness. The Ordo Veritas has much experience with death’. He could see both relief and apprehension from the Deakon’s body language. His face was almost completely obscured by a vox-broadcaster implant so that he could relay the High Confessor’s prayers to the worshippers. His occular implants were small and the Inquisitor hoped that they were working well.

‘High Deakon, what can you tell me about this matter?’

‘At the end of the ramming drill, it was my duty to unseal the Chapter House. I retracted the blast doors and there he was. Hanging there.’ The Deakon’s vox-broadcaster was designed for addressing large crowds and had a heavy bias towards bass frequencies. Although it was not loud, the slow, measured cadence and low tones made his voice very hard to listen to in such a small space.

‘Was he in the room when you sealed the doors?’

‘No my Lord, he was not’

‘So he entered after you sealed the doors?’

‘No my Lord. I would have heard the doors open, the warning klaxon would have sounded, and the operating controls are in my cell. The emergency control panel has not been used.’

‘When did you see him last?’

‘At the beginning of the Fourth Watch, I met with him in his private chapel and he discussed the projection effects that he wanted for the sermon today. I returned to my cell to practice the sermon and to properly anoint my projector.’

‘What happened next?’ The Deakon was a man who followed commands, but had little initiative of his own.

‘I remained in my cell, and then received notification on my lectern that there would be a boarding drill in the Plaza. The exercise started. It finished. I found the body.’

‘Could the Confessor have entered the Chapter House without you seeing him?’

The Deakon though for a moment. ‘He could have gone around the far side of the Cloisters and entered from there. But why would he. It is the long way and he didn’t like walking. He was not in there when I sealed the door. I can swear to that.’

Brake looked towards the Admiral for assistance.

‘Confessor Morion had lost a leg in combat. His actuator motors and feedback sensors were not working properly. He intended to have the prayers renewed back on Caldur and although he did not limp, it caused him considerable pain to walk or stand. The stool on the floor in the Chapter House is his. He used it to sit during services, to take the weight off his implant.’

Brake had a pair of bio-implants replacing his lower legs. His own legs had been blown off in an assassination attempt. He had learned the prayers and rituals to maintain them and remembered the pain when he had not mastered them properly at the start. Confessor Morion must have had great strength of will to endure such pain and to be prepared to endure it for the weeks until they arrived at Caldur. It would have been easy to ask Magos Bohr to renew the prayer and yet he did not ask. Perhaps he feared the wrath of the Machine God.

‘I spoke to Confessor Morion myself before the drill. I wanted him to hold a special Service of Praise for the ship. It was a miracle that the plasma conduit rupture did not destroy us all. Thanks must be given. I spoke to him after the Deakon left. Commissar Borax saw me leave to prepare for the exercise.’

‘Scriptor, record anything you can from the Deakon’s implants.’ ‘You may go Deakon.’

The Inquisitor walked over to where Borax and Grauman were examining the body.

**************************

Something to think about. Inquisitor Brake had a good idea as to whether this is a suicide or a murder based on the evidence presented so far. Which is it and what evidence leads him to this conclusion.

**************************

‘Commissar Borax. What have you observed?

‘Obvious case of suicide. He even used his own tether to hang himself.’

‘Tether?’

‘Standing Order 22-0050-01. All service personnel will be fully equipped while at Duty Stations. This part of the ship is one of the areas where the grav-plates may be deactivated in an emergency. All personnel must have a tether with them at all times so that the can hook themselves down, but I wouldn’t expect you to know that, Brake.’ Brake supposed that condescension was better than outright hostility.

‘I believe that you spoke to the Confessor just before the drill?’

‘I had a brief conversation with him.’

‘About?’

‘Commissariat business, nothing to do with this case.’

Another rebuff. Everything is the Inquisition’s business. Brake chose not to pursue the matter.

‘Did you see anyone else come or go?’

‘Yes’

So he was going to control the conversation with uninformative answers. He could be seized and Examined to get full information, but that would not be a helpful course of action. He said a brief prayer of Forgiveness for even thinking of such a thing.

‘Tell me about the important people you saw?’

‘The Admiral was leaving as I arrived and Confessor Vindire came in as I left. I don’t know why the Admiral was there. Confessor Vindire had some documents. He came out almost immediately and he caught up with me in the Plaza. He asked me if I had any special instructions for the Service of Thanks.’

‘Thank you Commissar, you have been very helpful.’ He turned away and motioned for Karpus and Grauman to join him.

‘My Lord, he died within about two hours. All the spirit has not left his body yet. He died of a broken neck, although damage to his implant connections would have killed him too. The tether is thin and very strong and has pulled his spine apart; nearly torn his head off. The stump of his left leg shows serious inflammation and the polycrystalline interface is badly deteriorated. It was not well maintained. I can detect no sign of poison. There is damage to the skull too; non fatal, but a heavy blow. There is no sign of other damage. All of the signs are consistent with what we have observed.’

‘The blow to the head?’

‘I do not know.’

‘Could the body have swung on the tether and struck the pillar?’

‘It is not my job to speculate, My Lord. I report my observations.’ True, it was his job to speculate, he thought.

‘Is the damage consistent with the body having struck the pillar?

‘The body is reasonably light, not nearly as heavy as Lieutenant Verdi or Deakon Baske. It is possible.’

‘Very well, get the equipment for the Rites of Recognition. I need to be sure if Chaos influence was involved.’

‘I have it here already. I will start immediately.’ The Inquisitor was pleased at the efficiency of his staff. He had chosen them well, but it was always good to have them perform with enthusiasm. Pleasure through Duty, Duty through Pleasure.

‘We must all leave the room. My Interrogator must perform the Rites of Recognition. The Examiners are protected in case Chaos taint is found.’ There was no need to say more. Everyone knew very well what might happen if a serious Chaos incursion were found. Already they all might need considerable Purification. Everyone moved back out into the Cloisters. As he exited, Brake looked at the edges of the thick Adamantium reinforced doors and seals to the Chapter House, retracted into the walls.

With another nod, he asked the Scriptor to give him a summary of the available information.

It came to this. All the testimony so far given was accurate. The Confessor was in his chapel and was seen by Deakon Baske, Admiral M’Dhu, Commissar Borax, and Confessor Vindire. No one saw him after then.

Deakon Baske had sealed the Chapel and the Chapter House, there were no unauthorized openings and closings. Once the drill had started, all of the blast doors were shut and latched. Once the Chapter House had been shut up, no one could have entered through the door. Baske’s optical implants were very poor quality at medium range or longer, but from the recording that Karpus had accessed, a moving, hanging body would be obvious. It was not there.

‘Lieutenant Verdi. Why were you in the Plaza?’

‘Drill SIR!’ Back to shouting! A very loud owl.

‘Explain, quietly’

‘SIR!, Sir. My Battle Station is the Port Upper Gallery. I received a message on the lectern to say that a Boarding Pod had cut through to the Ship’s Chapel and wiped out the defenders. I was told to take a force of Strom Troops and secure the Plaza. I did this, slaughtered the invaders, we used the Wedge formation we have been practicing Sir.’ Pride or currying favour, he could not tell. ‘We had stood down after the exercise when the door to the chapel unsealed and the Deakon came out screaming that Chaos had killed Grand Confessor Morion. I thought that it was part of the exercise, so according to Standing Orders, I secured the chapel and sent word to the Captain. Confessor Vindire returned and demanded entrance then, after a while, you arrived. I have done my Duty. I have followed orders.’ The problem, Brake thought, was that you could follow orders to the very death of you and all your companions. Wasted lives are an insult to the Emperor; blind obedience is never a defense to the Inquisition. The navy, it appeared, had a different view.

‘Thank you Lieutenant, you have followed your orders well’ The Lieutenant took this as high praise.

‘Admiral, what can you tell me about the ramming exercise?’

‘Let me explain, Inquisitor. I am the Acting Sub-Sector commander, following the loss of Admiral Bandini. I hold the formal rank of Captain Senioris, and the acting rank of Admiral Blue. It is my responsibility to handle and fight the fleet around us.’ The Inquisitor had some questions, but though the better of asking them. ’Each vessel in this fleet has its own Captain, with outright command of their vessel and everyone on it. On board the Orlanth Rex both of us are under the command of Captain Zoltoy. He is my Flag-Captain. My duties are deemed to be so great that I need a Captain to run my own,… former ship. Each Captain is responsible for their own vessel. It is my responsibility that these vessels act as a fleet. It is my duty to organize fleet combat exercises, just as it is the Captain’s duty to keep the crew in good order and well drilled.’

Brake was sure he could detect sarcasm in this statement at least. It sounded as if M’Dhu were preparing for a future Court Martial, in which this conversation might be admitted as evidence. Such anticipation did not seem to be a healthy attitude.

‘It is my habit to organize surprise exercises. This was one of them. My staff had planned this and the orders were sent out, under seal, with the Navigation Orders. The command staff of this and the other vessels had about a half hour warning that something was going to happen, for the rest of the crew, no advance warning at all until the exercise klaxon sounded. I warned you myself only five minutes before the exercise commenced.’ He reminded the Inquisitor of possible obligation. It was so hard to read this man. On the surface, he seem quite light-weight, but the Inquisitor’s experience warned him to watch very carefully. Everything was almost certainly not what it seemed.

‘It is essential that the fleet can maneuver as a group. I must know which Captains can obey orders properly and which helmsmen can maintain formation at very close ranges. As it was, somebody on the Sword of Damocles made a mistake and scraped off part of the sensor array on the ventral fin. I’m sure you must have noticed the emergency course correction.’

‘So Admiral, almost no one had any advance knowledge of this exercise?’

‘No Inquisitor. It was a complete surprise to nearly every one.’

The Inquisitor’s electoo pricked as Grauman came out from the Chapter House, in warning. He turned to face the others gathered in the Cloisters.

‘My Interrogator has found the taint of Chaos in the Chapter House.’ All the faces he could see showed dismay, or fear, or relief, but no surprise.

What he had not revealed was that the taint was minor. He re-entered the Chapter House to consult with Grauman. The room was now thick with the smoke of incense, both from the thuribles and the censers. The Sigils of Containment protected the room, the body, and its occupants. The body was now on its back, its vestments open, peeled back layer after layer like an onion, exposed down to the Sticharion tunic. Morion looked so small in death. He was a very small man, made to appear more impressive by the bulk of his sacred garments. Brake could see that the garment had a number of small pockets sewn into it. One of them contained a fairly substantial, but ornately worked knife. Instead, Grauman pointed to two of the empty pockets.

‘There. Those two pockets show Chaos taint. It is very, very weak. If we were not in such Purified place as here I would not have found it. This man had something touched by Chaos in those pockets for a brief time. The change to the fabric is so slight that whatever it was must only be touched weakly itself. There is no other sign of Chaos in the room. However the Confessor got into this room, Chaos or the Warp was not involved.’

‘As thorough as always Interrogator.’ He made a note to add additional Prayers of Thanks to his midday devotions. Grauman was a difficult colleague at times. He had been assigned to Inquisitor Brake because few others would work with him. Their loss. The Emperor provides, we must make the most of His gifts.

‘Preserve the Sticharion, return the body to the to the Ecclesiarch.’ He returned to the Cloisters.

‘The taint of Chaos is confined to one of the Confessor’s garments. A simple Rite of Purification will be enough to reconsecrate the Chapter House.’ The only relief he could see was on the faces of the members of the Ecclesiarchy who would be responsible for the purity of Chapter House.

‘Interrogator Grauman will return the body to the Ecclesiarchy as soon as he as dismantled his equipment. The Inquisitorial Embargo is lifted for the Ship’s Chapel, except for the Chapter House and the Confessor’s cell and private chapel.’ He had not even finished speaking when, members of the Nemesis Squad and a squad of Storm Troops and a junior Commissar hurried into the Cloisters to take up guard at the Chapter House door. The Inquisitor had sent a private warning to Proctor Paramedes. It was impossible that the others were acting on initiative. No, they had very specific orders. Released, others left and shortly later, a throng of priest and attendants arrived to receive the Confessor’s body. Everyone else, except Borax, continued with their duties after the body had been brought into the cloisters and the preliminary prayers had been said.

‘Commissar Borax, can you help me in the Chapter House, please.’ The ledger would be balanced later. The Truth and Duty came first. ‘I need to examine the two access hatches in the Chapter House. Show them to me.’

Borax, happy to show the superiority of the Commisariat and the Navy, and his own expertise, strode over to the central pillar and manipulated some of the enamel-work. Ladder rungs extruded from the pillar on two sides and high on the roof, the faint outlines of two panels appeared. The Inquisitor already knew all of this, but to show knowledge of the detailed operation of the ship would be to give away an important advantage.

‘Proctor, my implants do not allow me to climb ladders. Examine the hatches. I want to know if the Confessor could have entered the room through one of them.’ Paramedes knew that not only could the Inquisitor climb perfectly well, he had seen him use his legs to leap more than thirty feet straight up.

‘Immediately my Lord.’ He started the climb. His strength helped, his size and armour hindered, but he quickly reached the horizontal buttress and walked along it to reach the inspection hatch. The design of the whole room combined the needs of the Ecclesiarchy for worship and the needs of the Navy for practicality. Buttresses were part of the traditional and Holy design but they also strengthened the ship and supported its armour and also acted as walkways to provide access for maintenance and cleaning.

‘So Commissar. Have you changed your view on the death?’

‘Of course not! Morion committed a Sin against the Emperor. He killed himself.’

‘How?’ The Commissar looked almost insulted at this question.

‘He came in here, looped his tether over the buttress, tied a noose, stood on the stool, kicked the stool away and was hanged.’

‘When?’. More insult.

‘What does it matter? Baske was mistaken or the Confessor was hiding behind the pillar when he shut the doors.?

‘Why?’ Astonishment.

‘Reasons are irrelevant. Only the results count!’ Naval thinking at its best.

‘So if I submit a report to this effect, you would be happy to put your seal on it?’

‘Yes. I will be submitting a report to that effect. The Inquisitorial Investigation has been a complete waste of time and resources. You have completely disrupted the operations of this fleet. That too will be in the report’ With that Borax stormed out of the room, his limited tolerance for the Inquisitor exhausted.

Shortly afterwards, Paramedes returned.

‘There is no sign of recent use, My Lord. Even the ceiling has been cleaned recently, but there are small particles of cleanser in the cracks around the access panels. I do not think that Confessor Morion came in that way. Besides, he would have to crawl though narrow access ducts. His clothes showed no signs of this.’ The Inquisitor was very pleased with this last observation. He had arrived at the same conclusion, but it added to his increasing confidence in the Proctor’s judgment.

‘Very good.’ ‘Grauman, bring your equipment we need to look at the Confessor’s cell and chapel.’

****************

You now have all the important information. Borax is a hide-bound idiot, but he may be right. This story is certainly a howdunnit; it may also be a whodunnit. So howdunnit?

*************

To describe the late Confessor’s quarters as a cell was like describing the site of the Holy and Glorious Golden Throne as a room. The cell was a large multi-room suite; Holy, ornate, and luxurious. The attached private chapel was the same. Another Inquisitor might suspect secret devotion to the Cult of Pleasure. The suite was well-kept, neat, and tidy. The deck in front of the Confessor’s personal Ikon of the Emperor Omniscient, the most common aspect of the Emperor used when in need of guidance, was well-worn. The Confessor appeared to have been devout in his personal devotions.

The only really unusual aspect to the suite was a trophy case. A Confessor might well keep a record of his awards, promotions, and recognitions, but only the most militant Confessor’s kept a trophy case, and Morion did not appear to be a great warrior. Perhaps the trophies belonged to Arch-Redemptor Kyrinov who had recently traveled in the vessel to Norcross III. He would check.

The center-piece of the case was a large suit of ancient armour; intended for someone at least ten feet tall. Unlike modern power armour made of monolithic plates, this armour was made from thousands of finely worked, polished scales. The Inquisitor could imagine how light would reflect off the scales, dazzling both followers and opponents. The Sigils of Containment on the case were to protect against Chaos influence, but they were not particularly powerful ones, so the danger was not great. The Inquisitor could see that the oils were fresh and when he touched the oil with the smallest finger of his left hand, his toxo-implant confirmed the great purity and freshness of the unguents.

‘Proctor, search the suite for anything unusual. Scriptor, examine the lectern and any documents. Interrogator Grauman, bring your equipment here. We need to assess the contents of this trophy case.’

While the work was done the Inquisitor watched the others, especially the Proctor. He was impressed with his care, thoroughness, and intelligence.

Unfortunately, the search was largely fruitless; no secret chambers, no forbidden implements, no secret vices, no secret files. The only thing slightly unusual was a private communication from Sector Admiral Zoltoy reminding the Confessor that “things must be taken care of well before the Fleet reached Caldur”. There was no clue whatsoever as to the meaning of the message and this was this that made it unusual. The rest of the Confessor’s voluminous correspondence was well filed and thoroughly indexed and cross-referenced.

‘My Lord. The suit of armour is tainted by Chaos. The taint is weak and the Sigils of Containment are more than powerful enough to protect the chapel. The armour is of an antique design, but I was made less than five thousand years ago. It was worn rarely and shortly after its creation by a powerful Chaos entity. The warping effect of its wearer has resulted in the taint on the armour itself. The armour is very well made and shows no signs of deterioration even though it does not appear to have been well maintained. There are several small scales of armour missing from the rear shoulders.’

Interrogator Grauman was probably the most skilled Interrogator in the entire Ordo Veritas. He was always learning more, but what he did not know about Chaos taint was probably not worth knowing. His recent work on Norcross III had honed his considerable skills to a fine edge. As he was processing this information, he received confirmation from Scriptor Karpus that the contents of the trophy case did indeed belong to Arch-Redemptor Kyrinov and would be removed when he finally left the Caldur sub-sector after the Redemptor had completed his devotions in Pella on Norcross III. The Orlanth Rex was intended to patrol the Norcross and nearby systems until it received an order to return to Caldur to deal with remnants of the recent assault.

Although Inquisitor Brake felt that he had all the information he needed, there was one last piece that he needed confirmed. It was nearly time for midday meal and devotions and there was an hour’s Admonition to administer to the Port Upper Gallery boarding party. The Admonition was painful, but not in the way the men had expected; pain frames and neural probes. In some ways it was harder; an hour of relentless full contact-combat drills with the Petty Officers using their whips remorselessly under the personal supervision of the Inquisition. However, it had the desired effect. The Port Upper Gallery boarding party were now fierce, hard, and very well drilled. They were ready to do their Duty. The Inquisitor knew that this was not the case for most other parts of the ship’s crew.

We have reached the denouement. This is a type of Locked Room mystery, like Death of a Politician, only this time it is not clear that we are looking at a murder.

The first question is

Is this a murder or a suicide and how does the Inquisitor know? This is a reasonably straight-forward thing to determine. The facts are fairly clear.

The second question is

How was the death accomplished? Howdunnit? As extra help I will tell you that no one has lied in any of their statements about the facts of the crime. Some may be mistaken, but their evidence as presented to Brake is entirely true, from their point of view. The answer is very tricky and not entirely unambiguous. The answer to this question will inevitably lead to Whodunnit.

The third question is

Why did Confessor Morion have to die? If by his own hand, why? If at the hand of another, why? You will have to divine the motive because it is not clear.

To answer this last question, you must read the prologue because it contains a lot of information. In my stories, motive is not as important an indicator of the guilty as it is to some other writers.

In each of the stories there has been a single important inconsistency that Inquisitor Brake notices, and then he goes from there looking for additional evidence to support the case. Find the ‘big clue’ and the rest starts to fall into place.

Locked room mysteries are a specialized sub-genre and are of necessity rather unrealistic.

There are two more parts to the story. The next part will confirm whether suicide or murder, and will help with Howdunnit and Whodunnit, The information that Brake gets will confirm his suspicions but not add anything totally critical.

The second part is the standard Reveal.

To assist you further, if there are any questions that you think Brake should know the answers to, post them to the Comments thread and I may weave them into the next part of the story.

The only possible Whodunnit are:

High Deakon Baske - sneaky servant

Fleet Commissar Borax - cunning Commissar (and first-class idiot)

Admiral M’Dhu - stealthy superior

Grand Confessor Morion - embarrassed Ecclesiarch

Fifth-Lieutenant Verdi - owlish officer

Confessor Vindire - ambitious assistant

(names in alphabetical order)

As Magos Technicus Mechanicus Bohr studied the document he was both surprised and impressed. The Holy Diagramatus was not special in itself. In fact, if it had been created by one of the subordinate Rune-Priests, or even by a Lector, he would have been a little disappointed. A satisfactory Diagramatus, but not up to the standards of perfection that the Machine God expected. What made this document so interesting was its author. Inquisitor Roberto Brake was not a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus. He was not an Initiate of the complete Mysteries of the Machine God. He held the rare Favour of the Machine God and was an Initiate who had some Sacred Knowledge; mostly prayers for the maintenance of his implants and Holy Mechanisms. The records of the High Altar of Knowledge made no mention of his skill with written Lingua Technica or Scribum Technica, although this might be inferred from his extensive work with the Adeptus Mechanicus archives. That he was capable of producing an acceptable Diagramatus was very surprising. That he had chosen to reveal this ability was also surprising. This Inquisitor must be watched. If an ally, he might become as great an aid to the Adeptus Mechanicus as his superior High Inquisitor Sigismondo. If an enemy, he would need to be neutralized, perhaps permanently.

Having met the Inquisitor earlier, he had communed directly with the High Altar of Knowledge on Mars for all the information about him. Knowledge is Life, Life is Knowledge, was a standard prayer, but Knowledge is also Power. The Inquisitor was well known as a relentless searcher for Truth and Knowledge. The technical skills to produce a Diagramatus could be practiced and learned, given enough time and dedication. What could not be learned, and what made this particular Diagramatus so interesting, were the complex concepts of Mechanicus and Physics depicted. The Inquisitor must understand, not merely know, the fundamental Three Laws. Such abilities were rare among Adepts of the Collegium Mechanicus. The Lectors who monitored the Schola Progenium had made an error when they rejected the child and allowed the Ordo Veritas to claim him.

What the Inquisitor wanted, and what had caused him to produce the Diagramatus in the first place, was confirmation of his analysis of the movement of objects. In this the Inquisitor was correct in his analysis. The motions of the Orlanth Rex could not have caused such a suspended mass to swing through that large an angle to intersect with the obstruction. He activated his minor servo-arm and applied the Seal of the Machine God to sanctify the Truth of the Diagramatus. The Inquisitor’s respect demanded respect in turn. He retracted his servo-arm and returned to his Outer Sanctum.

‘The Machine God finds favour with the Diagramatus. The Knowledge is Revealed.’ He offered the Diagramatus back to the Inquisitor.

‘Knowledge is Life. Preserve the Knowledge, Preserve the Life.’

The Inquisitor, having his analysis confirmed returned the Diagramatus, now officially blessed by the Machine God, to the Magos and returned to his quarters. It had taken him several hours and two failed attempts to produce the Diagramatus but it appeared that the effort would be worth it, both in the short term and in the long term.

‘Service access seals are intact. The sacred maintenance ducts are still pure.’

He now knew that the Confessor could not have suffered the blow to his head as his body swung on the end of the tether as he hung from the buttress. Suicides did not often beat themselves on the head first, and it would be impossible for him to have hit himself that hard in that place. He could, perhaps, have smashed his own head against the wall, but Grauman’s sensors had detected no sign of it. Besides, all the other evidence pointed to murder and the means by which it had been carried out made murder almost certain. The method also left little doubt as to the murderer and it was not difficult to guess at his motive. No one had come or gone via the inspection hatches either. One more possibility eliminated.

It was now time to prepare the final report of the Inquisitorial Investigation. He was sure that he would have no difficulty getting the Seals of Captain Zoltoy, Confessor Vindire, and Commissar Borax on it. This was one of those times where Duty conflicted with Truth. However, his Duty was to the Ever-living Emperor who was Omniscient and knew all Truth. Besides, private Truth was still Truth. He knew that High Inquisitor Sigismondo would understand. He knew who had committed the murder and how it had been done, but there was little direct evidence and some would argue that there were other explanations. He was a senior Inquisitor of the Ordo Veritas. He needed no unequivocal proof, in fact, he needed no proof at all. He could condemn anyone at all on his own authority, answerable only to High Inquisitor Sigismondo and the Conclave. In this case there were larger considerations. Justice delayed is still justice. The Truth would be in the Inquisitorial files forever. ‘Knowledge is Life’ as Magos Bohr might say, but ‘Knowledge is Power’ is much greater Truth.

OK folks, this is the last exposition part.  Tell me everything you have worked out about the murder.  How does the Inquisitor know it's murder.  (Hint:  The key is a subtle, but unequivocal, piece of physical evidence.  This makes suicide impossible and from that and the 'organization' of the murder, the killer is almost certain.