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This story is a direct follow on to Sicarius and i'll probably be posting it at about 1,000 words at a time. I hope you like it!









Men were dying. They fell quickly, with a puff of red mist preceding the spasmodic death throes of the decapitated. Rifle rounds the size of cigars made a bloody mess of human skulls and Torik grunted as he picked wet bone fragments from his chest plate and cast his eyes around for better cover. His fire team was cowering behind a sturdy brick wall but it seemed to offer no better protection than a silken parasol. Every few seconds another section of the barrier would get hit and another head would explode.

And throughout it all the relentless drum beat of artillery fire echoed across the ruined cityscape. Torik had no idea if the guns were friendly, hostile or a mix of both. He wasn’t here to fight a war, he was on the hunt.

“We can’t stay here, sergeant!” A voice called out before a ferocious thunderclap overpowered Torik’s senses and he was showered with debris.

The squad had lost four men before the first words of retreat were uttered. Admirable. Hunkered down in the ruins of a hab block they were barely able to return any fire let alone get shots on target.

“Your boy’s right, sergeant” Torik yelled. “We’re outranged and trapped in a kill box. We need to...”

“Shut the feth up, FNG!” The burly storm trooper sergeant replied from across the room. “Out here you’re mine you understand? That means you follow orders and stick to the plan.”

Torik grimaced as another shot rang out and took the head off of another trooper.

“The plans gone to gak, sergeant. We’ve lost comms with the other fire teams and we need to find an approach where the fether can’t see through our cover” Torik argued.

“I had heard you were a coward, Saresh but I didn’t figure you were an idiot to boot. If we regroup the target will just displace out of our net and we’ll be the ones who as well as waved him on his way.” The sergeant glared at Torik with an ambitious zealotry that he recognised all too well.

“If this is where you threaten to shoot me if I don’t join a suicidal assault over the top” Torik grimaced and flexed his hands over the grip of his pistol. “Just remember it wouldn’t be the first time a glory hound’s tried.”


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“I won’t miss that ugly bitch” Torik grumbled as he stared out of the shuttle’s viewport.

“It does lack the pious majesty of an Imperial ship of the line” retorted Heinrich. “But such is the price for speed and stealth.”

“What kind of freight captain’s rust bucket have you commandeered then?” Torik smirked as he turned back to face the inquisitor.

“The cloak and dagger approach isn’t our style” Heinrich scoffed. “When its your job to investigate assassins it does you no good to skulk about in the shadows where no one will miss you.” As he spoke the shuttle began to bank, revealing the distinctive blade-like shape of a sword class frigate in the view port. “No, we at the Ordos Sicarius largely prefer to let everyone know exactly how much trouble they’re in as early as possible.”

“Nice ride” Torik whistled. “What’s her name?”

“Burning Guilt”

“Heh, very theatrical. Must have a crew of over 20,000... Makes me wonder why you’d come all the way out here just for me? It can’t be that hard for you to turn informants.”

“If only you knew” Heinrich quipped as the shuttle rattled. “Truth be told I didn’t sail out here just to rescue you from the hangman. Your crew had been under observation since your last incident and that put us in good stead to execute a surprise inspection as soon as we got word there was another emergency retrieval.”

“’Emergency retrieval?’ You mean suicide mission, don’t you?” Torik stiffened up. “At least do me the service of speaking plainly. Who talked?”

“The Ordos has a number of spies in every temple, even as assassins...”

“Come on, sir its not as though I can go and throttle the rat now is it?” Torik raised his palms with a cruel smile.

“No... I suppose not” Heinrich paused wistfully, looking away to the stars for a moment before collecting himself. “She was an armswoman, Vallhallan... Anastasia.”

“I see” Torik replied with a more solemn tone. “You were coming for her.”

“Amongst our other duties, yes...”

“I saw her die” Torik looked away. “She was very brave.”

“I know” Heinrich whispered.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The shuttle set down in one of the Burning Guilt’s port hangar bays with a jolt that shook the two passengers in their grav harnesses. Heinrich was up and at the exit first but he turned to face Torik before he opened the hatch.

“Before we step into my world I want you to understand what the situation is. If you enter my service you forfeit any rank or privilege that you may have acquired in your previous life. You bind yourself to my command until your death, potentially on my order. You answer any questions I might have about the Eversor temple and most importantly... you respect the gravity of our mission. Understood?”

“There are few who understand the seriousness of rogue operatives more than myself... My lord” Torik saluted.

“You’re not a soldier anymore either” Heinrich nodded and unlocked the shuttle door.
They stepped onto a bustling hangar bay, lit with almost painful intensity by hundreds of overhead luminators. Crewmen were dashing in every direction with armfuls of equipment and tools whilst warning sirens began to flare up at the inner blast doors.

“Is this your usual welcome party?” Torik asked after he had his boots on deck.

“We’ll be jumping soon so the hangars are getting locked down. Unless you want to spend the journey alone in the cold I suggest you follow me.”

Torik obeyed and sat himself down on a nearby cart’s rickety excuse for a passenger seat. Despite its appearance and lack of comfort the buggy managed to weave its way through the mess of deck hands and crew chiefs with surprising speed. Torik picked at the rust on the guard rails as they swerved to and fro; his absent minded agitation
slipping the notice of the inquisitor until he spoke up.

“If I’m no longer a soldier, my lord... Then what am I?”

“If you pass the psyche and aptitude evaluation you’ll be an acolyte; one of many that you will meet soon enough. But the reason I picked you up on my way off that unsettling ship is quite simple. You have rank and you have skills. Your rank allows for a deeper understanding of Eversor protocol than I’m used to dealing with and your combat skills can be put to good use on my security detail.”

“So I’m to be a bodyguard as well as a rat” Torik chuckled. “Moving up in the world.”

“Think of it as senior advisor on the Eversor Temple.”

“Well at least the title dresses up nicely.”

“Not to mention your post as chief consultant on kill or capture missions” Heinrich added.

“There’s the onion” Torik clicked his tongue. “You get a lot of that line of work?”

“We’re usually too late to bring in rogue agents ourselves but they’re a golden ticket to wrapping up an investigation if you can get it done.” Heinrich replied.

“Oh yes? Happen often does it?” Torik asked with a snort.

“The Ordos has, in the past, managed to uncover treachery in the temples through an auto séance of an agent’s corpse.” Heinrich retorted with a measure of irritation.

“You ever take one alive?” Torik pressed but Heinrich merely sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

The inquisitor left Torik on the crew quarters deck with a billet number and instructions to await a summons. This wasn’t the first time on board a Navy frigate for Torik so the process of finding his bunk only took a single Terran hour. He had no luggage, no gear or even identification. All Torik had left the Eversor cutter with was the clothes on his back and the boots on his feet.

When he reached his new quarters he was surprised to find he actually had a private cabin. The room was bare but for the washroom, bed and desk but four walls and a door was more than he had expected. There wasn’t anything to unpack or prepare so Torik almost immediately made to seek out the inevitable below decks drinking hole. But when he opened the door he was met with the looming silhouette of an Arbites enforcer in full combat plate.

“Torik Saresh” barked the unflinching officer.

“You got me” Torik held up his hands in mock surrender.

“You are to submit to evaluation.” The enforcer’s grim monotone made it difficult to tell at first but Torik eventually decided this was a female Arbites.

“Here? Already?”

“Yes. Finding your cabin in the allotted time was your first test.”

“I can tell this is going to be an elite crew...” Torik snorted and put his hands down.

“You barely passed, hive scum. Sit down and we’ll get this over with.” The enforcer gestured to the desk.

Torik raised an eyebrow at the officer’s slur. Either she had been briefed on his background or she recognised his tattoos. He obeyed the order with the saunter of a man who had clearly wanted to have a seat anyway. But the Arbites gave no indication that she was impressed.

“I am to judge whether or not you are qualified to serve in the Inquisitor’s retinue. From what files were available I struggle to see the import of your character beyond the information you have on the Eversor Clade.”

“What makes you think I’ll even give you that.” Torik grinned as he leant back in his chair.

“It is the reason you are alive” the Enforcer snarled, her lip twitching with disgust. She scraped her chair out from behind her side of the desk and whistled as she sat down. Moments later a huge cybernetically enhanced mastiff padded into the room and stood by her side.

“Goris, sit. Watch this one. Begin record.” The mastiff instantly obeyed the enforcer’s command and one of its dark eyes flickered onto crimson light.

“Intimidation isn’t going to be a strong suit with me, officer. I’ve seen worse things than your pooch today.” Torik inclined his head and pursed his lips with practiced ease.

“No doubt this isn’t your first time on the wrong end of an interrogation either” the enforcer hissed. The Mastiff, picking up on its master’s displeasure began to emit a low growl.

“You’ve got my file. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Subject history is the first item on the itinerary... although your ‘file’ is essentially a paragraph stating you’re an Imperial citizen and you have, at an unspecified time, been in the service of the Officio Assassinorum, Eversor Temple.” The Enforcer screwed up the solitary piece of paper she had brought into the room and threw it over her shoulder.

“How did you know I was hive scum then? Can’t just be my complexion. You’re as pale as death yourself” Torik goaded.

“You’re not hive scum because you come from a hive world. You’re hive scum because you’re an underhive sewer rat. The worst kind of rat from the worst kind of hive.” The enforcer folded her arms.

“You know your gang signs, officer.”

“I know the Necromundan spider when I see it. And I know the worth of a man who’s willing to rat on his own just to save his skin.”

“Sounds like you’ve already completed your evaluation” Torik pushed back, the venom in his voice betraying a little anger. “Who are you to take the measure of me anyway?”

“Ludmilla Sardette, formerly of the Adeptus Arbites. Now in service to Inquisitor Heinrich Zartosht, Ordos Sicarius, the Emperor’s Holy Inquisition.” She leaned forwards and placed her elbows on the desk. “Now we’re going to stop fething around and you’re going to answer my questions.”

“Its not like I’ve got somewhere else to be, officer. Fire away.”

Ludmilla paused to stare at Torik for a second. Her visor obscured the undoubtedly cold look of disdain in her eyes but the grim picture of resolute contempt was plain to see on her tightly pressed lips.

“You grew up on Necromunda... Underhive ganger... I’m guessing house Orlock?” Ludmillla had produced a dataslate and began tapping away as she awaited Torik’s response.

“Near enough” Torik replied. “Don’t let the hair fool you though. I would have been with House Delaque”

“Would have been?”

“I Left Necromunda before I became a full ganger. Joined the guard to see the stars.” Torik grinned, relishing the sarcasm.

“You joined up by choice?” Torik was sure Ludmilla was raising an eyebrow under that jet black visor.

“From a certain point of view” Torik mused. “It was either join up or run deeper into the hive. I’d seen the wretched outlanders whenever we were sent to hunt for archaeotech. Or worse, when they got really desperate and came begging in our settlements. Figured life as an Imperial Infantryman couldn’t be worse than scratching a living out in the sludge and spiders webs.” Torik coughed as he chuckled to himself. “fething stupid teenager I was.”

“Which regiment did you enlist with?” Ludmilla pressed.

“21st Necromundan Recon. A decent bunch of lads until we got ground down to a handful of embittered murderers. Funny thing was it was only after things got dark we actually started to get taken seriously by the brass.”

“21st Necromundan Recon...” Ludmilla paused as she read from her dataslate. “Performed crucial infiltration work in the re-conquest of Massilla. Considerable pressure to investigate for war crimes was ignored by the Administratum due to their admirable results in the field.”

“If you’re concerned it was mostly looting” Torik nodded. “Mostly.”

Nice stuff! I loved Sicarius, and this is shaping up just as nicely!

Do we get to see more of the arbite, I like her.

Thanks guys, I'll try and get you an update tomorrow night!

Sorry I'm lazy.





A space faring vessel is never truly silent. At any given moment on any given deck of any given ship a symphony of mechanical locomotion forms a constant ambience of churning and clanking. During battle or even a routine transit this motorised canvas is augmented by the organic chatter and bark of the ship’s compliment of crew. But as a vessel makes its way through the perilous anarchy of the snaking warp its decks occasionally come as close to quiet as a ship can get without suffering a major hull breach.
This near silence broke, first with the creaking stress of an aging cabin door as it swung open. Then with the precision raps of heavy duty boots thudding onto steel.

“Goris! On me!” Ludmilla barked as she swept out of Torik’s cabin and off into the bowels of the ship. The cyber mastiff padded faithfully after it’s mistress, snaking across the corridor from left to right following it’s standard patrol protocols.

“He’s lost it this time... that sump rat’s a liability, no mistake” she muttered to herself as she followed the twisting pathways of the frigate’s habitation quarters. By the time she eventually arrived at the ship’s central elevator hub she had lost none of her choler and the ever growing masses of crew members she barrelled through were feeling the brunt of it. If her imposing stature and sinister Arbites attire weren’t enough to keep the crew from complaining the 6 foot long mastiff trailing behind her certainly was.

When her transit car arrived she strode into the compartment alone. A crowd of crew members, some already late for shift work, left staring meekly at the empty transport. Only one dared step forward and join the Arbites and her hound. She loped rather than walked; her huge frame making grace or even basic fluidity of motion near impossible. Crewmen literally fell out of her way to avoid being trampled. The giantess made directly for Ludmilla’s seating section and crashed down opposite her.

“Hail!” she beamed as she lumbered her hand out to the cyber mastiff’s grinning jaws. To the onlooker’s surprise Goris began to eagerly lick the hand that was offered until the doors of the transit closed and the car began its ascent to the command deck.

“You heading up to see the Inquisitor, Kreuk?” Ludmilla asked, absent mindedly.

“Chief want speak for last mission. Master upset Kreuk killed too many.”

Ludmilla felt a pang of sympathy for Kreuk when she noticed how her face fell at the mention of disappointing Heinrich. It was hard not to. Kreuk was a terrifying wrecking
machine in battle, her upbringing on Kanack and tour of duty with the Skulltakers 75th “regiment” saw to that. But she had taken the Inquisitor and his retinue on as her new tribe and the unbreakable familial loyalty she displayed was enough to draw a glimmer of emotion even from Ludmilla.

“I’m sure he won’t be too angry. You did save his life... again.” At this Kreuk displayed a toothy grin and rapped her chest with her fist.

“My honour!” She almost roared and Goris howled with her. “You see new man?” Kreuk asked.

“Oh I’ve seen all there is to see of that one. Waste of cabin space, Kreuk. He’s not part of our tribe, you understand?” Ludmilla set her dataslate aside to look Kreuk in the eyes.

“He is weak?” Kreuk cocked her head in curious confusion.

“Yes, Kreuk. He has many scars.”

“Ah” Kreuk nodded in understanding. “He is weak.”

Ludmilla nodded back and then returned to her dataslate, satisfied with herself. The Kanack considered scars as marks of shame. In their eyes a better warrior would have avoided the blow that made the wound. Kreuk was privileged enough to only bear a few scratches; apart from the horrific burns to her hands and forearms.
Kreuk was sitting awkwardly, trying to fold her arms in a way that would mask the damage she had suffered to her hands.

“Kreuk...” Ludmilla ventured, unsure of how best to sooth an ordinary human let alone a seven foot war-maiden. “This is our floor.”
They stood up together and headed out onto the command deck.

“I go this way” Ludmilla gestured left to the Strategium.

“I this way. Goodbye, Goris” Kreuk waved in a child like manner before tramping off to the captain’s quarters.





Ludmilla reached the Strategium with Goris to find that room was lit up by the blue glow of the central hololith. A short balding man was examining a projection of the Eversor clade cutter that Torik that was extracted from.

“Amazing how the design matches no known STC...” he muttered.

“We’ve known that for years Ruben” Ludmilla remarked.

“True but it never hurts to re-examine the evidence does it?” He turned around and started almost immediately when he realised Goris was sitting directly behind him. Even on its haunches the beast reached up to his chin. “That thing is trying to scare me on purpose!” He gasped. “Either that or its you.”

“Which would you prefer” Ludmilla replied with a smirk.

“Neither would be my choice” sighed Ruben as he switched off the hololith. “Now tell me of the new recruit. Heinrich is oddly pleased about this one.” As he spoke he sat down in a corner desk away from the main council table. His workstation was cluttered with paperwork and multiple dataslates surrounding a block of silver with the name RUBEN VOSS embossed upon it. Ruben claimed the metal was mined from his homeworld of Cadia but Ludmilla suspected Ruben just wanted an excuse to remind people where he was from.

“I’m not impressed with Torik Saresh. The mans a...”

“Liability? An insubordinate, thieving, hive worlder?” Heinrich finished as he walked into the room with Kreuk trailing behind him.

“Sir!” Ludmilla snapped as she jerked upright.

“You haven’t lost your powers of observation my dear but you are undervaluing his positive points. The man’s a born survivor. Hive ganger, guardsman, Assassinorum officer... Men like him can be made useful.”

“I remember you giving a similar speech about our chief of combat operations” Ruben added. “He’s more or less worked out.”

“More or less?” Heinrich countered with a look.

“The incident with the Storm Wardens?” Ruben retorted, suddenly aware that everyone was staring at him. “What?... He’s not here is he?” Ruben’s face fell.

“... No” Heinrich replied. “This brief is just for senior personnel... and Kreuk.” Heinrich sat down at the head of the table. “We’re postponing the Eversor investigation.”

“My Lord we have an Eversor ship within arms reach!” Ludmilla pleaded.

“Enough!” Heinrich commanded and the room was instantly still. “There will be no discussion on the matter. I’ve had word that an Imperial Assassin has been dispatched without the unanimous approval of the High Lords. We’re the nearest operatives and we’re diverting to take this case.”

“Of course” Ruben nodded. “Who are dealing with?”

“Clade Vindicare.”