Brigitta Al'Anoud, Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus, shifted in the stiff-backed conference chair. The chamber was of cold grey stone, devoid of comforts, standard for the Chamber Militant or the Grey Knights as they were colloquially known. She resisted the urge to tap impatiently on the faux-oak table and let her gaze sweep the room. Iconography covering the walls: banners, engravings of the Emperor and statues of deceased notable Grey Knights. None she recognised, but some of the names on the plaques did stir some memories.
The air held a stillness, a weight. Not just symbolic, her psychic senses could also feel it too. The prestige, history and expectation all pressing down. Glancing to the side, she checked, Rhassia Kholn and Luthen-8. Months of preparation led to this moment, it couldn't fail, least of which because of her retinue fucking it up. Not that they would. Rhassia had accompanied her too many times to doubt her.
A former schola prodigy, Brigitta had snapped up upon graduation. At the top of her cohort, her exceptional grades and personality profile made her an ideal recruit and required a fair few favours to get her. Since then, she had served with nothing but distinction at every role Brigitta needed: interrogator, diplomat, investigator. Augmented, sharp-eyed and soft spoken, with cropped black hair and green piercing eyes, she was a threat to anyone foolish enough to underestimate her.
It was Luthen-8's first time, but he too had her complete trust, he wouldn't be here otherwise. Luthen-8 started life aboard her ship as a simple servitor, but his aptitude data quickly changed that. Over the years, he'd earned upgrades after upgrades, further enhancing his capabilities. Until now, where he oversaw most of her organisation's logistics, communications and data networks.
He had come a long way from his rusted, hunched-over basic model. Now he wore some of the most sophisticated augments she could source, transforming him into a gangly man of metal. Multiple arms and connectors across his body helped him connect deeply to her ship and other networks, able to interface directly with many of them.
She couldn't let decades of cooperation with the Grey Knights, one initiated nearly a century ago by her old Master, Lord Inquisitor Uther Tiberius, fall to ruin. Her connections and relationships remained key parts of her continued success as a daemon hunter and a servant to the Imperium. Case in point, her close contact with scattered remnants and hidden conclaves of the Sisters of Silence. Alliances that were rare and hard-won.
There was no greater asset in her war against the demons of the Immaterium.
Since the Great Betrayal, they had faded into obscurity, with many believing the Sisters were extinct. But if you knew where to look and had the right connections, you could still find them. Deep in the forgotten corners of the Imperium or cloistered within hidden conclaves buried in hive worlds.
She maintained contact with several cells, able to request them when needed, but she'd been unable to convince a cell to stay long-term. A lingering regret, so much so in fact that she'd made a promise to herself: next time she found a Null, she would recruit them personally rather than handing them over to the Sisters, no matter how uncomfortable it might be for her. Well, depending on how competent they were.
She had no use for fools.
Brigitta checked the time via her optical implant and resisted the urge to slouch. Just as she reached for her dataslate, the warp rippled with the approaching presences. Five in total, like a tidal wave in the warp. But one dwarfed all the others. A sun, bathing them in its purifying inferno. Even forewarned, it was overwhelming. Discipline. Solidity. Layers upon layers of psychic shielding, barely containing the inferno beneath was all she perceived before closing herself off or be lost within it.
She nudged her entourage to attention so they were ready as the doors hissed, opening, and the scrape of boots could be heard on the hardened floor.
Sylas Kalthorn, the Supreme Grand Master of the Grey Knights, stepped through the doorway. Dressed in well-cut but deliberately muted robes. Good, she thought to herself, he wasn't wearing his armour, a good sign. Even after several encounters with him, she couldn't help but admire the Astarte. What little she knew of his accomplishments painted an incredible picture, and she had been luckily—or perhaps cursed, depending on your point of view, to witness him in action. During 'The Wrath of Titans', she'd watched him fell the Daemon Prince Ka'laedzar in single combat.
She'd never forget that day. While she, her retinue and a squad of Grey Knights battled a Lord of Change to seize control of a psychic anchor, a wave of power swept through the warp, blanketing all in its golden light.
It distracted the greater daemon, and that momentary slip was enough. When it was over, she looked across the battlefield and witnessed the titanic duel. Even now, goosebumps broke out on her skin when she thought about it.
She shook herself from the memory and focused once more.
Following him came the Grand Masters of the Apothecary and Librarius, both similarly dressed in formal robes. Beside them strode an Astarte in full Terminator armour, with only their helmet removed. She didn't recognise him, but his armour gave him away as a Paladin. The elite champions of the Grey Knights. His plate gleamed silver-grey and beautifully decorated with ornate gold and enamel. Purity seals were stuck across his armour, and a white gold aquila blazed across his chest.
Finally, at the rear were two guards, also in Terminator armour with their helmets on.
Another good sign, only two guards. The Chapter Master never travelled without his guards, but bringing so few showed their trust in her. She remembered worse meetings, one where he'd kept six at his side and with the Supreme Grand Master wearing full armour. That had been a particularly frosty meeting. She had to fight to keep the smirk off her face when Inquisitor Cassia was very abruptly put in her place. Still one of her fondest memories.
"Inquisitor Brigitta. Greetings." Sylas Kalthorn said in his unnaturally deep voice, with an almost musical quality to it.
Standing, she and her retinue bowed. "Lord Commander. Thank you for receiving us on such short notice."
"Your name alone commands our attention. But we thank you for observing the proper channels." As they took their seats across the table, the Supreme Grand Master met her gaze. "How may we assist?"
She paused to collect her thoughts. This was the moment, the fulcrum of her mission. "I would like to commission a squad. Paladins, if possible."
"Paladins?" He said, his eyebrows rising. "Unusual. What mission warrants such support?"
"Yes." She nodded to Luthen-8, who rose and passed over a paper dossier. Trying to bring an unknown device into the Grey Knights stronghold was more trouble than it was worth. "The folder contains intelligence and a confirmed location on Domikio Nyxor-Poth."
The Supreme Grand Master remained unmoved, but the other Grand Masters were not quite so unaffected, leaning in with interest. They knew the name. She had never doubted it, but it was gratifying nonetheless.
"Confirmed location?" The Grand Master asked, voice suddenly sharp. He wasn't as unaffected as he at first appeared. "You're not the first to bring news of his supposed whereabouts."
"Agreed. I've chased my share of ghosts, but this time, I think we have him." She leaned forward slightly. "Multiple agents with independent sources and no chance of corroboration. All reports sighting of him in the area. We've also traced his last known trajectory after the escape; everything points to this system." Tapping the dossier, she continued, "On the planet itself there are classic signs of him up to his old work. Chaos uprisings and a disproportionate number of possessed and corrupted." Here she paused, carefully studying the astartes, trying to see how they were taking the news. But they were veterans and betrayed nothing. So she pressed on.
"The uprising was quelled, but what's more telling is that no report was filed, or it was downplayed. Not unheard of, but confirmed signs of chaos on this scale demands an investigation."
She gestured to the next page of the dossier, "Finally, there are a cluster of hive cities left strangely untouched. However, if you look at these illustrations, you will see the orbs with markings that he has been known to use, as well as the baton. Which could be a carbon copy of some tools he designed in the past. They have only been found in that hive cluster. All this and more bears the hallmarks of the ex-Inquisitor Domikio."
"I see." the Chapter Lord mused. They sat in silence, just the rustle of parchment as he read through the reports. It was broken when the Paladin asked. "I do not recognise the name. Why is he of such interest?"
Brigitta glanced at the Grand Master, but as he didn't stop her, so she started to explain Domikio's story. "Not surprising, he has been purged from history as thoroughly as possible. He was once a Lord Inquisitor of great renown and of the Ordo Xanite." She met the Paladin's eyes. "The Ordo believes the warp should be mastered, not destroyed. Much like how humans have done for every other challenge we have faced. Domikio took this to the extreme, however."
"The Warp is not a challenge. It is a corruption. You do not master fire by letting it touch your soul." The Grandmaster of the Librarius said.
"Quite." She replied. Although not altogether as convinced as she once was.
In her youth, she had been diametrically opposed to that philosophy, agreeing wholeheartedly with the Grand Master, to the point she almost came to blows with her master. But time had worn her down, like many an Inquisitor. Now she saw merit in the sentiment, even agreeing with it in parts. Already, she was using resources and tools she would have once destroyed on sight. Not daemonic hosts, that was still a step too far. But certain artifacts, individuals. Instruments she might have once condemned without thought… were no longer overlooked.
To many of her colleagues, Brigitta was already stepping away from the Puritan faction and into the Radical side. Willing to use all tools at her disposal, no matter how unsavoury they were. Not that she'd ever volunteer such information, admitting such things would do little to endear her to the Grey Knights.
So, she understood the path that took Domikio to chaos, even if she didn't sympathise with it. And when the time came, she would not hesitate to kill him.
"He was a critical figure in the Project Exorcist."
"Which is?" The paladin asked, brow furrowed.
Pausing once more, she glanced at the Grand Master. This secret ran deeper than most within the Imperium knew, the few that had even heard of it, that is. But when he gave no signal to stop her, she continued. "Project Exorcist is the most successful case to date of using the warp against itself. They allow daemons to possess space marines for 12 hours and then banish them. This results in the marines gaining greater resistance to the warp and its corruption. It also further enhances their skill at combating demons, second only to your order. Those few that survive that is. You have likely worked with them."
She saw the realisation flash in the Paladin's eyes. "The Exorcists."
Nodding, she said. "Correct. It is the best example of using the warp to fight the warp. Domikio was instrumental in the project's early stages. It also granted him access to a lot of knowledge, like access to the Liber Daemonica of the Astra Militarum, which only deepened his knowledge. At some point, he grew frustrated, impatient with the slow rollout of the programme. This was the start of his Heresy. He began his own private experiments; he even aided a priest in smuggling some failed neophytes out of the facility. Hoping to force our hands.
Her face darkened. "Regardless, in time, he became unstable. Reckless. Until he went too far and was declared Excommunicate Traitoris and hunted down by a strike team. One of your order, supported by a cabal of Inquisitors. To no avail, he escaped, killing many before he vanished. That was over a hundred and thirty-four years ago."
"So—" The paladin started before he was cut off.
"I have read enough," the Supreme Grand Master said, waving at the report. To her surprise, although it shouldn't have done, he had already studied it in full. "This, along with your name, is all I need. You shall have your squad." He turned to the paladin. "Demiz, assemble your squad. You will aid in bringing this Heretic and betrayer to justice in the name of the Emperor.
The space marine stood. "By your command, Lord!" he said, then turned and marched out. It still unsettled her how fluidly they moved. Creatures their size and mass shouldn't be able to move as fast and as quietly as they did.
"His team will join you on your vessel within the hour. I trust the previous arrangements remain in effect?"
"Thank you, Supreme Grand Master." Brigitta said, standing and bowing. "Yes, they will have a secure and private section of my vessel, fully cleansed and freshly warded." After a few more formalities, she and her retinue were escorted out and made their way towards the spaceport. It was a small installation, at least compared to others within the system.
But then, few even knew Titan existed, and fewer still knew the labyrinthine process required to gain access. The codes changed daily. Once she left, she would have next to no chance of returning without permission.
Stepping off the transport rail, she looked up at her ship, a heavily modified Cobra-class frigate. The Cobra class was fairly common across the Imperium. There were still many local variants, but it was gaining popularity. Which when she first wanted to get her own ship several decades ago was a requirement; it had been hard enough with the shortage of ships. Nowadays, she might be able to requisition something more impressive, but there was no need.
The 'Penumbral Spear' was more than enough. At 1.5 kilometres long, it was fast, manoeuvrable, and heavily modified. Boosted void shields, reinforced hull plating and powerful armaments allowed it to strike well above its weight. But what truly set it apart was its stealth systems. Advanced modifications that rendered it unnaturally silent in realspace and doubly so in the warp. Perfect for her preferred style of warfare. Striking hard, breaking through and killing the targets before anyone has the chance to react.
The exterior was not all that changed, made to look like any other ship in the Imperium. Unlike some of her peers, she didn't adorn it with garish insignias. Those who mattered knew what it was, and she cared not one whit about the rest.
The interior on the other hand, had undergone extensive modifications. Hexagrammic wards etched into its superstructure, enhanced Gellar fields and reinforced internal bulkheads, to name a few.
A teleportarium had also been installed, an exceptionally rare feature for the ship, alongside several containment vaults, libraria, psychic chambers and more. Yes, she thought, with no small amount of pride, it was a very good vessel. One final modification was about to prove its worth. A sealed-off section, in a remote corner of the ship, rarely accessed and was capable of complete lockdown. Perfect for hosting the Grey Knights without exposing them to the rest of the crew. Sparing her the unfortunate task of having to mind wipe them, a procedure that was far from risk-free.
As she reached the bridge, her captain, Enos Velt, was finishing the last-minute pre-flight checks. The room buzzed with activity as officers sat tapping away at dozens of workstations.
The Captain sat at his high-backed leather chair in the centre of the bridge. His long salt-and-pepper hair and close-cropped beard shifted as he turned towards her, revealing eyes far older than the rest of his face, courtesy of the expensive rejuvenation treatments he'd undergone.
Across from him, in a sealed room, she could see the Navigator strapped into his throne. A swarm of servitors hovered around him, performing the final system checks.
She had been lucky to secure him, a favour well spent. He hailed from one of the Great Navigator Houses, though from a cadet branch which had been found wanting and banished from Terra. She'd managed to quietly claim some of the most promising ones for herself, a decision she had yet to regret.
"How are we doing, Enos?"
"Ship shape and ready to move, my Lady." The captain said, rising to his feet and offering a respectful bow. His uniform, like every crew member's, was a sleek dark blue, trimmed in silver, her sigil stitched over the left breast. She and her officers had agreed on a standardised design: practical, professional and inexpensive. It built camaraderie and simplified logistics, a win-win.
In fact, the only ones not in the unform were guards with their armour or the tech-priests.
"Good, we just need to wait for our guests, then we can be on our way. When they arrive, make sure their path is clear. I'd rather not have to mind wipe the crew if at all possible."
"Already arranged." The ship's first officer replied. "The guest quarters have been quarantined. Once they're inside, there'll be no risk of accidental sighting."
"Very good. Thank you, Lyra." Brigitta said to the tall woman. She wore the same uniform as the rest of the crew, but her bearing and the rosette at her collar, marked her as an officer. The ship's executive officer, she had served as long as the captain, having joined alongside him.
A valued member of Brigitta's command and above reproach, Lyra had been offered many commands of her own over the years, but she'd remained. That loyalty would not be forgotten.
They did not have to wait long for the vox to crackle to life. Not that she needed the confirmation, able to feel the colossal psychic presences approaching, like a distant storm. A deep voice washed across the bridge. "Requesting permission to board." Everyone present were cleared, as some of her most trusted personnel. They needed to be, given some of the secrets they were privy to. But they had shown her time and again that her faith in them was more than warranted. The same was true across her ship, from its officers to its crew and troops. Many had served for decades with only deaths causing vacancies.
"Thank you Justicar Demiz. An escort is en route to guide you and your squad to your quarters. They will be sealed from the rest of the ship, as per procedure."
"Thank you, Inquisitor. Out."
"Ensure they reach their quarters, then lift us off." She said to the captain. Though she hardly needed to. He was already checking with personnel and issuing orders. He knew her well, after all. He had been her captain for over fifty years.
A few minutes later, Enos said. "They're settled, my Lady."
"Good take us away." Settling into her custom-built chair, she watched as the well-oiled machine that was her bridge crew sprang to action. At one point in time, she used to sit in the captain's chair, but learned the hard way how foolish and ego-driven that was. Now she had her own chair, which offered a commanding view but remained out of the way. Enos didn't need her breathing down his neck, and she spent most of her engagements off-ship anyway. This arrangement made far more sense.
Brigitta felt the ship engines roar to life, the hull vibrating beneath her feet. Soon they were away from Titan, slipping back into the chaos of Holy Terra's system. Thousands of ships, in all shapes and sizes, crisscrossed the solar system. Some hauled cargo, others carried pilgrims or distinguished nobles bound for the Throneworld. An unforgettable experience. Off in the distance, she caught sight of a Jerico-class pilgrim vessel, its hull proudly adorned with sacred iconography for all to see.
The vessel had just arrived in system, having completed its sacred circuit of the many Holy Worlds, bearing with 10,000s of new souls eager to see Terra in all its glory. Praise the Emperor.
In all likelihood, none of those on board had chosen to leave their home worlds themselves. It had been a parent, or more likely a great-great-great-grandparent who had begun their pilgrimage. And it wasn't over yet. If they wanted to see the Cathedral of the Emperor, something well worth the visit, it sent goosebumps along her arms just thinking about it. But unless they had the thrones to skip the queue, they still had years, perhaps decades, of waiting ahead of them.
Turning away from the ship, Brigitta looked ahead as her vessel burned toward the Mandeville Point, the only region in system where it was safe to enter the warp. Attempting to enter it too close to the gravity well was a death sentence for the ship and those nearby. Broadcasting her rosette codes, they were granted a clear path and allowed to exit unmolested.
Choosing one of the warp corridors leading south of Terra, they fell in beside the many Ecclesiarchy's ships heading for their seat of power, Ophelia VII. An idiotic choice in her opinion, when they voluntarily left Terra over two centuries ago with its movers and shakers. But it had seemed to work, reversing the steady decline they had been experiencing. Their Frateris Templar fleets now rivalled even some fleets of the Navis Imperialis. Although there had been murmurs of the Holy Synod returning to Terra. As if they could now.
Shaking her head, she removed the distant thought and left the bridge for her quarters, at the start of the decade-long journey to Gravis Prime.