We spent the evening and most of the next day packing. A storm had blown in during the night which made it impractical to fly out to Quintin that night. Hadrian was eager to get started but grudgingly admitted that a few hours either way was unlikely to make a difference on a lead already months old. Trasic was roused from his lo induced stupor and astropathic messages were sent out to various allies including Urien, though last word we had put him several months away from Pacitus.

My own belongings had expanded considerably with leisure to shop and with expert advice from Clara. I had my wardrobe, which by this point included several armored body gloves, dresses in a variety of styles and a number of firearms. I also had a short bladed sword and a pair of fine daggers, though even with training I was still little more than average with them. Even out here pyscometric material was hard to come by and while I had forged (or commissioned Lazarus to forge) a force staff off my own, I had not yet found an appropriate focus for it. I had no doubt that Urien and his crew would shake their heads in disgust at my considerably increased cargo requirements. I had the servitors crate it up and transport it down to the docks for transshipment to the capital where lighters could ferry it to whatever orbital conveyance we were able to scare up.

I knew little of Samara Bandir or Havenos, Hadrian had a number of cases that he was working. Mostly threads he had uncovered while chasing Bahometus that had turned out to be unrelated or tangential. All of them had gone deep underground after even fleeting contact with the Ordos, but it was the nature of such infection to re-emerge. Nagrip was, according to the limited information the Ordos had, a minor warp dabbler, though there were questions as to how he had escaped off world and managed to vanish for so long, despite Hadrian having tasked local arbites and system defense personnel to prevent it. If he had been able to take down a bounty hunter of Samara Bandir's caliber, well that was another reason for Hadrian to sit up and take note.

Hadrian arranged for a farewell dinner with some members of the staff, intending to act as a briefing and to provide instruction during his absence. He probably meant it to be a simple working affair, but the servants took the opportunity to go all out, producing a lavish feast complete with custom invitation cards. I showed up early. It wasn't exactly a secret that Hadrian and I were involved but nor could our relationship technically be official. I was the lady of the house, but not the Lady of the House and I did my best to live up to peoples confused expectations of what that entailed.

The dining hall was a long chamber, lit with warm light from above accompanied by elaborate candles placed along the table. The windows were closed and dimmed, with darkly lacquered wooden shutters contrasting the lightly tanned color of the walls. Paintings and rosaries hung between the windows, an aquila and a painting of Inquisitor Kronus on the opposite wall. The table was made of expensive mahogany and the chairs were cushioned and sturdy, but light. The freshly cooked duck and grox cutlets at the center of the table, with potato sliders and chopped, steamed vegetables of varying kinds. Amasec and Rahzvod were available to drink, courtesy of my private stock as a little thank you for my staff's good service.

I stood at the head of the table, awaiting my staff as they arrived promptly together. All save Emmaline, who had accompanied me personally to the dining hall. Lazarus took a position just at my flank, Emmaline taking a seat to my right, though when no one else sat down she promptly stood back up. She wore a delectable blue dress and a black sash that hugged her waist, her blonde hair in an eloquent braid.

Demetrius stood behind the chair to my left, the elder wearing a comfortable but splendidly embroidered jacket befitting his station over a smart suit, his greying beard recently well-trimmed. A few of his new assistants accompanied him to the table, and even my communications officer Quintin was there further down. Clara Strong was invited, and though she did not wear her flak jacket, I noticed her evening dress had a holster with a laspistol, as if even now I or the residents of the villa might be in imminent danger. Selencia Aethil sat to Emmaline's left, a striking contrast to the more lightly colored woman, just as beautiful with entirely different colors.

I raised my cup of Rahzvod, and everyone raised their glasses to accompany me.

"To us! To your hard work and dedication these many years, under Kronus and myself. For putting up with me, and everyone and everything I bring home, be they astartes or new members of the team." I said, giving a smile and a subtle look Emmaline's way. "I regret to confirm what you already know, that I must depart again. I'll miss the cooking and the friendship, though one can do without the commentary." The joke brought a few knowing looks and grins, though I saw the new members of the staff frowning, not quite getting I was jesting with old friends. They would find out eventually, next I came back.

"Sarcasm is just a free service we offer with our compliments." Demetrius laughed, bringing a mirth out of me as well.

"You did not wish to bring Lucius to the toast?" Lazarus asked from behind my shoulder, apparently in one of his tactless moods.

"The chairs wouldn't fit him and I felt it good to leave him with his own dish, specially made in the kitchens." I informed him, though I also wished to speak freely with my staff without worrying about spooking them. Lucius Raj had been exceptionally well behaved for a Thunder Warrior, but that had still resulted in three broken walls, a smashed ground car, and a broken arm from one of his periodic bouts of rage. "I'll be taking him with me on my errand, which brings me to my next topic. Selencia?"

"Yes?" The clever woman asked, raising her eyebrow inquisitively.

"Without Urien or the Caledonia and their medical officer, I'll require a medical assistant. I would ask that you accompany us, if that is not too much trouble." I humbly asked. I could have ordered her, of course, but she did have many responsibilities and I could put my trust in whatever medic I had on hand on our requisitioned freighter or a local one on the planet Havenos. "It might be dangerous, so don't take the request lightly."

"Hadrian, I might not look it, but I'm twenty years your senior. I've seen a few things. I've twice followed Inquisitor Kronus one his jaunts. I can handle it again." She assured me.

"Very good-" I began, but Clara spoke up.

"You'll be without your usual retinue. You'll need another gun."

"I'll have myself, a tech-priest, a potent psyker, Selencia, and an astartes." I told her.

"Permission to speak freely, Inquisitor?" She asked casually.

I would regret it, but I said: "...granted."

"So you, a bucket of bolts, clumsy Emma, doctor Aethil, and a crazy giant as liable to kill you as the enemy?" She asked without scruples. I simply sighed, and my gaze swiveled to Emmaline on her opinion. Lazarus let out a small screech of binary to show his displeasure at the pejorative.

Clara and I had discussed this earlier when I had been drawing small arms from the armory, though I could have done without the epithet. I nodded my approval. If we were going to a feral world where the locals stuck bone through their noses and worshiped the sun as the Emperor we would either need blades or bullets in considerable quantity. Plus Clara had been sidelined since the death of her previous master spending her time at Agesola training and bringing other agents up to speed. She was bored with training and wanted to get out into the field. I personally didn't understand the drive and would have been more than happy to live a life of quiet luxury, but I could appreciate that milage varied. Hadrian measured Clara with his eyes for a few moments and then nodded. A considerable degree of tension seemed to go out of the arms master now she knew she wouldn't be left behind.

"Now that we know where we are going, and who is going, perhaps we should address how you are going to get there?" Demetrius suggested. It was a fair question, Hadrian traditionally operated with the Caledonia which was much to distant to be of service in this occasion. Some inquisitors maintained a full time ship, but such craft were alway obvious. Pacitus also hosted a small naval base that served a squadron of destroyers but a random navy ship showing up on Havenos would be as obvious as an Inquisitorial vessel.

"What little intel we have suggest Nagrip spent a few months on Kamden before transiting to Havenos," Hadrian said. "Kamden serves as a processing center for a number of feral and semi-feral worlds in the region and the navy is not unknown there. In the interest of speed we will transit on a destroyer, the Prelate Voss, and tranship to a local trader once we reach orbit. Potentially we can gather some leads while we are there."

"So we are going to be incognito?" I asked, voicing the obvious question from the table. Hadrian grinned slightly.

"Yes we will be, our cover will be as big game hunters. That will let us bring weapons and gear and explain our presence on Havenos," Hadrian explained.

"And Emma will be your fancy girl?" Clara asked. Hadrian's smile broadened.

"As luck would have it, the Ordos recently detained a female big game hunter by the name of Amaletta Sark on suspicion of smuggling. She even happens to be blonde."

The next day...

The Prelate Voss was a Cobra-Class Destroyer of the Imperial Fleet. Like most of its kind, it was a quick escort ship with a large ordinance of warheads which allowed it to somewhat punch above its weight class. Still, it was smaller than most 'larger' Imperial ships, at just 1.5 kilometers from hull to stern and around 5.7 megatons in weight. 15,000 personnel combed and labored in its depths, but my retinue was given private quarters to inhabit.

I had not quite given up on the name Blasius Deckard, but I decided to play it smart and prepare a different name, going under the guise of Meliton Thracius when it became convenient to do so. At the moment, it was simply nerve-wracking enough to pass off Lucius as an astartes on this trip, much less these past months. It was fortunate no one he knew had ever truly seen a space marine in the flesh, else they would know he stood fully two feet taller and had a far more broad frame. The Imperial personnel did not question it either, other than asking the prudent question of why an astartes was aboard anyway. Luckily, the normal excuse of 'prohibited mission' was enough to see him through.

Clara had come with an assortment of weaponry, laying out all manner of guns for our party on her cot for me to take note of. Combat shotguns were next to long las rifles accompanying a 40mm grenade launcher which sat just beside a plasma pistol across from the solid slug sub-machine guns. Long knives were arrayed at the foot of the bed, and she even produced a catachan fang, which she did not deigned to elaborate on where she got such a unique item.

As I inspected the armory, Lazarus approached with a datapad. "Sir, I have taken the liberty of finding all of the fauna of the world and picking the most reliable game for you to 'hunt'" The tech-priest handed me the datapad and I opened the device. It showed a photograph of an enormous predatory animal, felinoide from the looks of it. Lazarus continued with: "The Carnodon, a large species of mammalian felinoid native to the planet Gudrun. Shipped out onto other worlds in order to keep its population from diminishing due to damage of the planet's atmosphere, they've become quite the invasive species on Havenos."

"Lazarus, I know we are not truly hunting these things, but couldn't you have picked a less deadly animal? This thing is six meters long." I deadpanned.

"It would be the most cognizant explanation of why you are carrying such heavy weaponry and protection, and it is also a noteworthy beast to kill, as it's spread is threatening the populations of the local antelope." He explained, somewhat smugly.

"Very well," I sighed.

The trip to Kamden took a little less than six weeks. The Prelate Voss' captain, a grey haired matronly woman named Lisel Rainer, boasted it could have been completed in four, but we had to maintain the illusion of running naval dispatches to a couple of ports along the way. Rainer, who's face had been replaced with augumetics after a shot gun blast had taken half of it in a boarding action, knew we were Ordos but maintained our cover, even going so far as to invite us to several dinners with her officers. At these dinners I was required to play the roll of Amaletta Sark. Hadrian had provided me with the Ordo files on her and I concocted several stories to tell at dinner. I even psychically simulated them based on the limited data I had, giving Hadrian and Strong a chance to add what they knew of hunting to my own knowledge to refine my cover and to provide us with shared memories. Hadrian and Clara were playing the role of gun hands, Selencia was my doctor, and Lazarus my Magos Biologos. I even styled my hair in a utilitarian bun and dressed in expensive but somber dress to better match my role. Worst of all Clara insisted that I learn to use a hunting rifle, a great monster Krigewald that was nearly as tall as I was and kicked like a mule. At least in Clara's opinion, it was too long for me to easily shoot myself by accident.

At Kamden, a world of scattered manufactorums and trading houses, we transshipped to the Grief Von Burlikean, a small sprint trader which worked the country trade between Kamden, Havenos and a half dozen other worlds that exported pelts, timber and other raw materials. It was a trim ship and a good deal more luxurious than the Prelate Voss. Judging by the cages in its hold it also ran beasts to the Imperial pits on Cronstdat when opportunity permitted. As luck would have it the ship was already planning to head for Havenos, not that such plans prevented the captain from bewailing disruption and demanding a steep fee for the privilege of accompanying us. I placed Lucius in a meditative trance for this leg of the voyage and we set him in a safe which the crew supposed contained luxury goods. Once thy attempted to break in, but fortunately Lazarus intervened before they could get inside and rouse the thunder warrior to what certainly would have been a bloody slaughter.

We arrived at Havenos the day after Candlemass 985M41. It was a picturesque place from orbit. A verdant world of green forests shot through with isolated mountain peaks. Uniquely there was almost no tectonic drift and so the mountains were exclusively the result of vulcanism, with tall cindercones dotted along cracks in the mantle. Imperial settlements were sparce and for the most part located in the fortified calderas of extinct volcanoes, whose walls provided excellent defenses and whose basalt plugs were ideal strata for atmospheric lighters to land. The population in these fortified outposts was perhaps 200,000 planet wide with three quarters of a billion savage natives spread out over the rest of the planet. Pelts, amber, and other goods, were brought to the outposts on designated festival days. Factors would establish large fairs outside the volcano settlements and ply the natives with joylic, crude iron tools and other trinkets in exchange for the bounty of the forest. Trade with the 'Star People' was as much ritual as commerce and attacks on the outposts were both rare and brutally repelled.

We landed at the imaginatively named Crossing Town via a chartered lighter. Our brief time on Kamden had revealed that an individual fitting Nagrip's description had been landed their by the rogue trader Proximae Innominae six months before, mirroring the intel sent by Hadrian's lost agent. I took a deep breath of this new world as we headed from the shuttle, finding the aromas surprisingly rural despite the aftermath of promethum fumes from the lighter. Crossing Town smelled of wood smoke and leather withyou the hint of pine from the gently rising inner slopes of the caldera. Other than the Administratum Building, which was of black volcanic stone, and the warehouses which seemed made of corrugated steel, most of the buildings were of two story timber construction with flat rooves which often held gardens. There was a central road which connected a geothermal powerplant to the main gate, a great blockhouse hewed out of the side of the mountain and reinforced with oozlite pilings.

"We should ask around at taverns and outfitters, if your agent or Nagrip left town, they had to have hired vehicles and local guides," I speculated.

"I imagine that's a wise course of action," I said, inspecting the assembled group with muted consternation. We had donned what costumes we could and went over our roles again and again, but despite the months since our first encounter and the weeks en route to Kamden and Havenos, any other inquisitor would consider this a ragtag group at best. Retroactively, I wished we had been given more time on Pacitus, but selfishly I had gotten restless. It was good to be back in the field, even if it was potentially a short jaunt to find my missing agent and subdue a low-life named Nagrip.

I led the group from the central road down a splinter street of mudbrick, heading towards a trading shed with the look of a run-down chalet. Pelts and fetishes hung over a wooden marquee, swaying in the light wind as pioneers looking for game or to make a name for themselves conversed in low-gothic, sporting autoguns and thick-bladed knives at their hips. A few of them looked our way as we approached. I admit it was hard not to notice us, as I was in the company of three attractive woman and a giant in armor. I, for all my supposed charm, could better fit in I had learned. I sported a coarse jacket and a wide brimmed hat in the fashion of game hunters, my autogun at my hip and a combat shotgun at my back, sawed short to conceal its military grade fittings with a conventional gun-case.

We stopped at the front, if one could call it that, and I motioned for Salencia to stay there, glancing at Lucius who wouldn't be able to fit through the door unless he tore the roof apart. "Keep the good woman company. Make sure these fine gentlemen don't get any ideas." I remarked at the adventurer's expense, and winked at Salencia. She took my meaning, though I could tell she likely wondered why Emmaline wasn't staying out here to keep watch on the occasionally murderous post-human, but I needed her inside in case her psychic powers would be of use to gather information. Clara would be our back up.

The door creaked open, banging the wall with the rattling of a closed shutter. Tables with set collections of knives, bullets, energy packs, recoil dampeners, enhanced magazine capacitors, and vox-casters were laid over grox skins and ambull carapaces as phylodar teeth hung from the ceiling, glowing ivory in the lantern light. Three men in rough leathers and flack jackets stood in the corner, one holding a long gun as the other appreciated the smithing of the weapon. Another clung to a bio-scanner as if it were an STC. An older man with a jaw made of metal, bio-mechanically connected to the joint ligaments of his jaw, walked out of the back with a tray with three bottles of rotgut booze.

All four turned when I entered with Clara and Emmaline, the boisterous chattering coming to a stop. I tipped my hat to the proprietor, approaching him with my heavy boots. Emmaline followed suit as Clara hung back, the brunette's eyes glancing back and forth to ascertain any hidden defenses, though her eyes caught sight of the equipment laid out and she eyeballed her fair share of the military grade equipment.

"Excuse me," I asked the trader as he set the tray of booze down for the previous customers and approached. He was thin, with eyes that spoke of either kindness or meekness.

"What can I do for you, sir? Madam." He gave Emmaline a nod of his slowly revealing bald pate, fixing his short-brimmed bush hat to cover up the spots once again.

"Know where we can find any Carnodon in these parts?" I asked, leaning against a table and setting a hand to rest on my belt, the other idly lounging atop the holster of my weapon. He looked somewhat surprised, but quickly realigned his stance again.

"Carnodon? That's some big game, sir. Yes, yes uh, I remembering hearing about some sightings due east of here, near the Jroakan Valley. Seems there've been some attacks lately, too."

"They were confirmed Carnodon attacks?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Emmaline tilted her head, looking inquisitive, highly interested in the old timer and what he had to say. She knew how to play her part, at least.

"Well, just what I hear. There have been sightings of them over in those parts most recently." He said, glancing from my penetrating gaze to Emmaline's sparkling blues. "As for the attacks, I just know a few people haven't come back from the valley and the locals are smart enough not to go after us folk. If it's big, green, and tastes good, it's a grox, catch my meaning?"

"Who's gone missing? Off-worlders like us?"

"Is this an omni-scope?" Clara asked from behind us. I turned and the captain of my guard, one to whom I entrusted my life, was holding up a weapon attachment and looking at it as hungrily as Emmaline might gaze at a bowl of icecream.

"Why, yes it is!" The tradesman declared proudly.

"How did you get this?" She asked, intrigued.

"You'd be surprised what desperate men sell when they got nothing else. We get all kinds here, madam. Looking to purchase?"

I cleared my throat.

Reading people’s minds is harder than you think. It isn’t because of any innate psychic defenses or anything like that, nor any trick of training or willpower, it is simply because most people don’t go through their lives thinking about anything that is particularly profound. Two of them were thinking carnal thoughts about me. One of them was thinking carnal thoughts about me and Clara together. This was not particularly useful information, as in frontier camps like this women were almost always in a minority among men of an age to still be troubled by testosterone. Hadrian was trying to make my job easier by using keywords like ‘off worlder’ but strangely it was Clara who took the trick. The scope had been salvaged from a Carnadon kill nearly two hundred miles south of us. The mangled body was still in his mind and I could make out what I thought was the face of Hadrian’s agent. I probed gently. Even the unaware can detect too much in the way of overt mind probes and the man shivered and pulled his mind back inside of harder defenses than I could breach without notice. I did manage to snatch enough information to know where to look.

“Your friend’s dont feel like talking,” the would be threesome asked, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained with some plant based material.

“Lady Sark has no words for the likes of you,” Clara replied, setting the scope down on the table to keep her hands free in case of trouble.

“And why is that?” Red teeth leered.

“For ze same reason lion’s do not speak to curs,” I replied in a Travensal accent. The Ordo files included voice recordings of Ammaretta Sark and I had done my best to imitate her mode of speech. My voice dripped with contempt, which was both appropriate to the situation and to Sark more generally. The man reeled back as though slapped, though his companions laughed good naturedly at his chagrin.

“Melton, ve have vat we need. Prepare us to depart, weeks on board ship with nothing to kill leaves me out of sorts,” I snapped and turned to leave. Clara took point in front of me as a life ward might, leaving ‘Melton’ to cover my back.

Outside we found Lucius growing agitated and drawing stares from everyone who passed. I had intended for him to remain in stasis until we needed him, but Hadrian had decided that having him on hand might prevent hostility from breaking out. Assuming Lucius wasn’t the cause of the hostility of course. I reached out and touched his now familiar mind, calming him with the exercises we had practiced back at Agesola House. It didn’t always work, but this time it did.

“Ve vill need transport,” I told Hadrian as he exited.

I fear your agent is dead. I saw a body on a beach south of here.
“Porters as well, perhaps half a dozen,” I continued.

What do you propose? Hadrian’s thought came back to me.

“It shall be as you command Lady,” he said out loud.

We travel to the kill site. I may be able to learn more there.

Was it wildlife? Hadrian asked in my mind.

Not unless they learned to use las rifles.

_____

We left camp two hours later riding in a pair of cargo tens which had their rear four tires linked into tracks for off road work. Lazarus had been able to piece my mental impression of the kill site together with orbital imagery he had pirated from the shuttle on the way in and we had a reasonably good guess as to where we needed to go. We hired six locals for fetch and carry, one of whom claimed to be a tracker, though in truth this was all for show. The sort of thing a rich off world hunter would do. Lazarus cunningly disabled their vox unit so that it appeared to remain functional without actually sending and receiving. It was probably overkill for a low level operator like Nagrip, but he had been underestimated before, and it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities that he might have paid some locals to take an interest in any off world visitors.

For the first two hours we drove eastwards away from the caldera, following an ancient rutted path through the forest. The trees were colossal, some nearly a hundred meters tall with large bulb-like canopies. Direct sunlight was almost completely absorbed by the time it reached ground level and so the undergrowth was more mycologial than arboreal. Our party rode in the forward cargo ten where we could speak freely. The mood was grim. I had only shared the image of the agent, little maw than a gnawed skeleton whose head was still attached, with Hadrian but no one had any trouble imagining it. We reached a small river just before sundown and turned south. This irritated our local help considerably but we passed it off as having picked up auspex readings matching carnadons. In truth, Lazarus was scanning for big game and other threats, but the true reason was that we could make reasonable time along the river bank. Seasonal floods had swept most of the undergrowth aside and so we could make bumpy progress southwards. Even so we had to pause once the first of the two moons set. We parked our vehicles in echelon against the side of the river and made camp for the night.

“We should be there by midday tomorrow,” Lazarus told us as we sipped amasec and ate our expensive trail rations around a fire constructed for us by our now surly locals. The would be tracker, a one eyed brute named Kelden, insisted that we would have had better luck finding carnadons to the east. I ignored him with aristocratic disdain until Clara had put her hand on her autorifle to let him know that he had crossed the line. He threw his hands up and went back to his fellows, making a wide curve around Lucius who sat gnawing at a haunch of grox.

“Then all we have to do is find a grave site a sex addled psyker pulled from the mind of a local drunk,” he groused.

Noon the next day...

Kneeling down, I removed my glove and wiped away the sand to reveal a warped, glass-like object. My fingers curled around it and lifted it off the beach easily, examining the crystalline material. It was no piece of technology, just the coagulation that occurs when a lasbolt strikes sand. Judging by the arc of the burnt sand, they had fired from the treeline and not on some vessel. I tossed it to the side and sighed, lifting my eyes off the beach to look at the gnarled corpse that had once been Samara Bandir.

Her clothes had been torn and picked at by some avian creatures, and her body had been mostly stripped of flesh. In life she had been a lovely but brutal woman of dusky-brown skin and a severity to her manner that Hadrian could only hope to match. He made a silent prayer for the Emperor's Peace upon her, but he had been prepared for this moment after having received the vision from Emmaline. At his left stood Selencia Aethil, who stood with a stony visage that only Hadrian could see past to the flickers of pain behind her eyes. The Magos Biologis and the agent had been long time friends. It was a small mercy that an autopsy wouldn't need to be performed.

Emmaline and Lucius were keeping the locals busy, the psyker making a show of ordering myself to check the corpse so she needn't be bothered, and then performing some theatrics of investigation elsewhere and making up some nonesense about an arbites being able to 'sniff-out' their quarry from some bioenhancement that did not exist. It gave us a scant few minutes to have some time with Samara and give our condolences, as well as investigate in peace. I would have to thank her for that later.

I suspected a few effects had been taken off her, but from a quick search I found an auspex scanner that had unfortunately not served her well, a small compartment in her belt that held a index digi-weapon, and a pack of the lho-sticks she was always so fond of. Even now I could see her leaning on a railing back in the pacitus hanger, smoking and teasing me after a scolding Kronus had elected to discipline me with. The late inquisitor often liked to prepare his rants, and I had quickly become accustomed to all of them. At that particular time, it had been his 'Penal Legion' scolding, which he often used if I disobeyed his orders. Brushing the memory aside, I realized what I could not find on Samara's body was her rosary, her data-slate, any overt forms of weaponry, or the necklace Selencia had given her seven standard years ago. I slid off her remaining boot and retrieved my knife, sliding the keen blade under the sole and popping it off with a 'click.'

"We're dealing with amateurs." I said off-handedly. Any professional would have searched her far more thoroughly. I plucked out her miniature vox-recorder, which had a microscale tracking device installed, and a counterseptic for emergencies just beside it.

"Perhaps they were just expecting some arbites and not a member of the inquisition." Selencia reasoned as I handed her the recorder to be listened to later. She took it and then glanced at the small rippling waves that licked the shoreline. Havenos was populated by small, freshwater seas due to a celestial anomaly like a meteor shower that had melted great glaciers and formed basins from the impact craters.

"True," I admitted, placing the boot back on. "They might not have known whom she was working for. Only that she was on their trail a bit too hard. Either way, it's good news for us. Either they're unprepared because of incompetence, or because they don't who's wrath they have incurred."

Something about the situation didn't sit well with me. I had met a number of Inquisitorial operatives and to a woman they had been hard bitten and capable. Samara had been on a world reknowned for its hunters, it made no sense that she had been taken by surprise. I had spent some time trying to learn to use my gifts in a more forensic fashion, but it was still a work in progress. I was confident that with time I could contribute something but problably no way Hadrian would be comfortable with, and that wouldn't send the local running screaming. I wasn't ceratin that would be an entirely bad thing. I wasn't sensing any overt deception from any of them, but they would certainly gossip once they got back to the starport. If there was a chaos presence on the world, they would certainly have links in the port.

"There are enemies approaching," Lucius rumbled, his eyes drawn to the woods to the east. A flock of the native aviforms were alighting from the trees. He stood up off the fender of the cargo ten, the suspension relaxing at least a foot to be rid of the thunder warrior's weight. Pure aggression radiated off the trans-humans mind and I felt my hands flex in an unconcious urge to rend and tear. I tried to calm him but his rage was beginning to build.

"Let us move on," I declared formally. Getting Lucius away from potential battle might stop him going berserk.

"Hostile's approaching," Lazarus stated, spinning to face the treeline. The locals were begining to pay attention now, as the tension in the air became general.

"Let's mount up," I began. A blizard of las fire ripped from the treeline. Bolts flew everywhere. A nearby fruit pod exploded into steam and dropped burning fragments down onto the sand. Several bolts struck the Cargo 10s pinging away with flecks of burning paint. I jumped over the edge of the cargo 10 and rolled into the compartment to take shelter, then, remembering I was supposed to be a bad ass hunter, crawled froward to where my weapons case was stowed. The las fire was a blizzard, light was everywhere, snapping and crackling overhead. I opened the case and touched the controls as Lazarus had shown me. The rifle was nearly two meters long, a Transvasuer Helix 2, meant for heavy game. It lifted on grav compensator units which made it possible for one person to handle. I swung it towards the trees and sighted down the autotargeter. The trees jumped into view and I saw our attackers. They were dressed in furs with coats of chain mail and leather that clashed with the las guns they were firing. I was no soldier but even I recognised they werent doing a great job of it.

"They don't know how to use them," I said, then squeezed the trigger as my sight drifted over a one eyed brute with a pair of weapons he was firing one handed. The weapon crashed, a minaturized las cannon blast ripping from the barrel. It struck the inept gunman in the chest, blowing his chest appart in flaming steam, his arms and legs flying off in different directions from his vaporized torso. With a howl, the natives charged, firing wilding as they came, some throwing away las guns to draw swords and axes.

Lasbolts flew wildly across the landscape, though the attack was from so far from my position that even if they were well-trained karskins they would have likely flown wide of the mark. For those familiar with lasguns like any good soldier, I needn't tell you how they work. But for the layman or autogun enthusiast, there is no arc to the laser that is discharged from a lasgun. It will continue on until the beam fires past the curvature of the planet and dissipates into the cold nothingness of the void. It makes the guns accurate if you're accurate, but any degree off-point and it will increase the margin of error.

I unholstered my autogun pistol and dove behind a rise in the sand just at the cusp of the beach. Selencia hustled over to my position and knelt beside me in a crouch, a needle gun in her hands. She gave a quick bead on the enemy and fired a shot. I had found a small curve in the sand and unloaded four slugs from the autogun, killing two of the barbarians. Even as I watched, more charged into my line of sight. There had to be dozens, shooting haphazardly and carrying crude bludgeoning weapons.

"Coincidence?" Selencia asked with a curious nonchalance.

"Doubtful, but I don't think they would have had the skill to hit Samara as we found her." I reasoned, raising myself from a prone position to a knee and firing another four shots. The heavy caliber gun reverberated the sand by my feet as the muzzle flashed. Three more dead, their blood splattering the forest floor and covering the local fungi.

Selencia's needle pistol dispatched a particularly large, thuggish brute who had decided to rampage toward our position. He hadn't even had a lasgun, just a crude looking piece of steel that vaguely resembled a sword. He almost looked confused when his heart was pierced, tripping and falling into death mere feet from their position. "Well there's enough of the bastards to kill us, much less Samara."

"True," I said absentmindedly. I looked over near the ten's where the locals had made a defensive perimeter, two of them already taken down by the mob that charged at them. Lucious was easy to spot, the thunder warrior swinging his arm like a club and sending a man flying into his fellows like he had been hit by a terran bull. I wondered where Emmaline was, but even as the thought crossed my mind, a savage crested the small rise we hid behind and raised an axe to brain me. I lifted my arm to halt the percussive blow by halting the momentum of the weapon's haft, and the two of us went tumbling into the sand. I knocked his arm with the axe behind my own arm and wrapped his other arm up in my legs to keep it immobilized. Selencia slid over to us, and she grabbed the screaming man's head and with a quick twist, snapped his neck. I had forgotten how seriously she took her close combat training.

"The lady Emmaline is fine." She said as if she read my thoughts. "In fact I'm envious of her. She has the big astartes and I only have you." She quipped coquettishly, offering her hand and helping me stand up.

The Helix 2 was probably the best weapon credits could by when it came to taking down a big apex predator. As a weapon for confronting a blood mad group of feral tribesmen, it had severe disadvantages. I fired again, blasting the arm from one of the onrushing natives. It wasn't a great shot, merely the result of a target rich environment. The spent powercell ejected and clattered across the deck of the cargo-10. I fumbled for another shell but the wave of natives was already breaking around the vehicle. Several fetched it blows with axes or clubs, as though it were a great beast. Iducked and pulled my side arm from a holster in my imitation hunter garb. The gun was an Amrak Arms Thousander, a heavy chromed pistol with two barrels, one large and one larger. I gripped the weapon with both hands the way I had been shown in the simulator. Two tribesmen were already trying to clamber over the side, stinking of sweat and the rancid grease they used in their hair. I leveled the pistol at the nearest but before I could squeeze the heavy trigger, the man was yanked away so violently his shoulders joints popped free. Lucius Raj, smashed the unfortunate tribesman against the side of the cargo 10 like a whip. Bones cracked and blood flew in all directions. The Thunder Warrior dropped the body as two of the enemy, braver or stupider than the rest, hacked at the post-human with weapons that had been old before M1. He crushed the skull of one with a fist and then seized the second with both hands, ripping him in half in a bloody display of strength. I watched in awestruck amazement, captivated by the shocking level of violence that Lucius could summon. A las bolt glanced of the combing beside me, singing the small hairs on my hand. I pulled the trigger on reflex and the gun hammered, the round flying Throne knew where.

Lucius raged through them like a human scythe, his building rage venting itself explosively on the hapless ferals. They came on regardless, shockingly willing to confront the Thunder Warrior and the spatter of gunfire. Their experience of las weapons had obviously stolen their fear of firearms, but that didn’t explain their willingness to die. I fired three rounds from the thousander, dropping one of them, wincing each time as I felt the shock in my wrists. Then I clicked the fire selector to the second chamber and fired. The breaching found roared and cut down three tribesmen as they tried to clamber onto the cargo 10. I saw two of our local guides go down to a raging berserker with a double handed axe, beheading one and then the other with a quick reversed stroke before a las pistol bolt blasted his skull apart. As he fell a dozen men screamed and fell to the dirt, twitching and convulsing.

A minute later it was over, the last of the raiders pulled down by Lucius who raged off into the woods in search of further victims. That was a better result than him venting his fury on us so I didn’t try to intervene. I climbed down from the back of the cargo 10, shocked at the extent of the carnage.

“Hadrian?” I called out in concern. He emerged from behind cover, smoking weapon in hand. I relaxed when I saw him and remembered my own weapon. I slid the thousander back into its holster, unwilling to risk trying to reload it in a manner that might cast doubt on my supposed expertise.

“Savages with las guns,” Selencia mused. I bent down and picked up the las gun. The weapons are, of course, ubiquitous across the Imperium. This model was pearl white with brass accents, its handle fashioned to look like natural wood.

“Very nice las guns,” I observed. It was far better made than the simple stamped metal models I was familiar with. Nice as it was, it was still rusted from lack of maintenance. I wondered if the locals even knew how to reload them.

“It is an Espair Pattern VII, probably manufactured on the forge world of Memdon or one of the subsidiary manufactorum worlds,” Lazarus supplied, picking up one of the weapons and working the action open to examine some internal detail. He sounded as though he had written a dissertation on the subject, though knowing the Skitarii, it was simply something he had encountered and uploaded into his internal data banks.

“Right, but why is it so nice?” I persisted, setting the gun down on the wheel guard of the transport.

“It is manufactured under limited license for specific clients,” Lazarus explained, without providing any actual information.

“What clients?” I pressed.

“Some noble houses, but primarily for the Eclesiarchy,” Lazarus allowed.

“Of course the Eclesiarchy has no need of las guns,” Hadrian said dryly, “being forbidden from keeping men under arms and all.” Everyone laughed at the notion that the church might abide by the ancient and toothless edict.

“So why are las guns made for Fraternis Militia in the hands of people who probably worship the Sun and the Great God Goo?” I asked. No one had any ready answer.

“Why did they keep coming like that?” Clara Strong asked, idly feeding shells into the rotating drumb of her weapon.

“If they are savages they ought to have fouled themselves when Lucius went berserk, I know I felt the urge,” she admitted. I turned over one of the corpses with my boot and looked into the dead man’s eyes.

“Mental conditioning,” I said after a moment, “someone used memetic conditioning to make retreat impossible.”

“Warp trickery and smuggled weapons, it sounds like the spor of chaos to me,” Clara mused.

We retired to a nearby hilltop for the night. The locals kept to themselves, nervous and upset at what they had seen. I couldn’t blame them, though I suspected it would be worse in the morning. There was no practical way for us to bury so many bodies even if we had the desire. Havernos had no native avians, but there was a flying lizard that filled the evolutionary niche which ravens or buzzards did on other worlds. Judging by the yipping of the sea foxes, other scavengers had already found the unexpected bounty.

The hilltop had been fortified at some point in the past, though you probably needed to have Lazarus’ enhancement to identify the gently sloping terrain as the remains of a ditch and berm. Given the lack of fresh water I thought the place was a likely have served as a seasonal cattle pen as a fortress, but despite my occasional use of the cover I’m not really a Magos Achaeologs.

Lucius had returned after an hour or so, armor slick to his elbows in gore and his eyes wild. This had not gone over well with the locals, despite our somewhat unconvincing explanation that he was a gene engineered life ward with slaught glands. They constantly shot him nervous glances and muttered amongst themselves, for which I could hardly blame them. There was an aura of violence around him and it took me a good half an hour of gentle psychic effort to calm him, and even then it was a thin sheet of ice across a deep and powerful river. It was as though my months of work with him were coming unraveled after only a few hours of combat. That didn’t bode well for our ability to use him in the field on a protracted basis, though I gained some insight into how to improve on my previous work with him, enough at least to keep him from going berserk.

“Thoughts?” Hadrian asked as we sat around the campfire. Even at these tropical latitudes it was cold at night, the salty breeze enervating if you went above the shelter of the ancient earth walls. I was pleased to have my cover as a big shot aristocrat, which obviously excused me from having to take a turn at watch.

“Our agent is dead boss,” Selenica said bluntly, “The Emperor give her peace but that is an end of it.”

“The las guns are a troubling factor,” Lazarus rumbled, his concern for technology in the hands of savages obvious. I wondered how difficult it would be to track them back to their source. It seemed such ornate versions should be easy to follow, though the Emperor knew that there were many forge worlds, and even if, as seemed likely, Lazarus could narrow it down, there would be millions of functionaries who might be responsible for an illicit trade.

“What do you think Emm?” Hadrian asked, causing me to start having not been prepared to offer an opinion.

“The psychic work was powerful but crude, and done locally,” I explained.

“These were swamp tribesmen from the southern reaches of Lake Ska, Kator Talon’s and Son’s of the Fen, they are a long way further north than they should be. This is Blood Fox territory, or was. Whatever this is, the epicenter is going to be in the southern swamps.”

There was stunned silence around the fire. I put my hands on my hips.

“What, you were all thinking I was just a pretty face? I researched, what were the rest of you doing on the voyage out?” I demanded sounding somewhat petulant even to my own ears.

"Yes, she is dead." I said, pronouncing the d's of the final word emphatically to show I was slightly irked. Perhaps not as petulant as Emmaline's final statement, but I think we all were a bit tired after a brutal melee we had not anticipated. I took a deep breath and reminded myself we were all lucky to still be here. I could have lost many more agents than the late Samara Bandir. I examined the Espair Pattern VII, and though my knowledge of the manufacturing of lasguns was rudimentary compared to Lazarus, I agreed and could find no flaw in his deduction.

"What I was doing was studying the moon patterns." I said, drawing Emmaline's gaze my way. There was an open question in her face, and I smiled. She might be a bit clumsy and prefer to laze about, but Emmaline was brilliant, in my mind. I don't fraternize with every pretty woman I happen to meet. Perhaps I should tell her that more often.

"Moon patterns?" Selencia prompted me, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yes. Emmaline is right. They will be in the southern swamps, but we need to move at first light tomorrow." I explained, placing the butt of the lasgun on the ground, Lazarus took it from me, almost cradling it in his arms as he placed it amongst our gear.

"Because of the tides?" Lazarus asked as he removed the item.

"Good guess, old friend, but no." I remarked, standing up and taking a professional poise. Emmaline stepped back, almost tripping over a stick. Luckily a log broke her fall and she fell onto a seat as if it were a deliberate choice. I would not tell if she didn't. "In the tribes crude understanding of the Emperor, they have devised he portrays himself in the guise of the sun and the moon. When there is no moon, they take it as the divine Emperor sleeping, and hold vigil all night, seeing anyone approaching as a demon sneaking past their God. No doubt a ritual made after some catastrophic attack years ago, supped up into a time of religious significance."

"And when there is no sun?" Emmaline asked, maintaining her position in the conversation.

"They see it as the highest of disfavor. Luckily there is not an eclipse for some time, but in a few days there will be a string of moonless nights. If we approach then, they'll attack us like rabid hounds. Even the ones not in the employ or influence of whatever ruinous agent we now face."

"And why did we not know this beforehand?" Selencia asked.

"Yes, why not?" Emmaline added, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Because I was hoping we needn't stay until that time, and it would not have sped us here any faster. Believe me, if I thought it prudent, you would have been told immediately."

"So we need to move fast to reach these swamplands," Clara put in, "but that will be hard to do if the way is littered with bands of natives packing las guns." As usual her analysis was tactical, direct and to the point.

"We don't know there are more las gunners," Selenica objected, "it could just be an isolated group." Lazarus made a sound that was part throat clearing, part binaric exhalation.

"Analysis of serial numbers as well Emmaline's ... surprisingly precisent cultural analysis, suggests that these weapons are likely in the hands of bands of tribesmen between here and the swamps," Lazarus admitted. I sat up, my face astonished.

"Did you just... compliment me?" I demaned in shock. In all the months I had known him, I had never heard the Mechanicus Adept express a single positive thought about me. Lazarus emitted another Binaric grunt.

"I merely stated that your analysis was correct," he grudgingly hedged.

"We can punch through rustics with fancy rifles surely," Selenica asked, "we have a space marine for Throne's sake."

"As we get closer to the swamps, the tribesmen will be more densely packed, and they will converge on us," Clara objected. I glanced back towards the vehicle where Lucius Raj was leaning against one of the tracks. He never actually slept so far as I could tell, he merely seemed drowsy and distant. Texts I had read suggested this was some sort of a precursor form of the way Astartes could rest a portion of their brain at a time. I doubted there was anyone in the Imperium who understood it, other than perhaps the Apocetheria of the Astartes themelves, and they were famously close lipped.

"I don't know that we can depend on Lucius," I admitted, the words drawing all eyes. I started into the fire, watching the damp wood crackle and pop.

"His rage is growing faster than anticipated, a few days of combat and he might go unrecoverabley berserk," I explained. I needed time to work on his mental architecture, but that wasn't something I could do in a few hours in the backwoods. Selenica glanced nervously towards Lucius, suddenly aware that we had a Carandon by the tail.

"So where does that leave us?" Clara asked, "We can't move fast and we can't move slow."

"There might be a way," I interjected, feeling my chest tighten at what I was about to suggest. "When the Archaeor's surveyed this area they noted a valley about ... well a little bit west of here."

"Apparently it is a funerary site, and runs for a hundred or so kilometers. It is taboo to go there except for burials, and those tend to be during the dry season," I explained, dredging my mind for the information culled from tedious reports.

"If we take the valley, we might be able to move far enough south in time to avoid the ill-omened nights, perhaps we could stash the vehicles and move stealthily once we reach the end near the swamps?"

The next day...

A small rock tumbled down the slope, clattering against the stones. Lucius, Selencia, and some of the survivors gazed up to the source, and whilst my head didn't move, my gaze flicked in that direction. Emmaline had not bothered herself to turn, trying to leap over a small crevasse and balancing, using her hefty front side as a ballast. Luckily, it seemed to be some odd, vaguely reptilian critter scampering out of a hiding place.

The sun beat down on us, which I was not very keen on. The valley was far too wide open, and though some of it was covered in the dense foliage of the planet's subtropical forest, much of it was bare rock raised high above on both sides. Anyone with a weapon that could lob a projectile could hit us and we would be at a severe disadvantage. I felt my team was prepared in most situations, but it was times like this I could ascertain just where I had missed on my conditioning of them. Emmaline and Selencia were both unused to the field, and Lucius had the iron confidence of a post-human, unaccustomed to finding the flaw in letting a potential sniper know you might have spotted their location. I walked casually, but careful eyes could see I moved from shadow to shadow when I could, always keeping the sun at my back and keeping whatever foliage there was between me and a potential vantage point for a rifleman. Clara moved much the way I did, but I felt it was more for her role of protection than camouflage on her part.

"How much further?" Emmaline called, and she cursed when she nearly stumbled. The blonde took off a shoe and hopped while she shook out a loose pebble.

"Don't yell," I said back as quietly as I could while reaching her ears. "Just a few more miles."

I did not want to be harsh. We would talk about it later, and her bright eyes showed she understood the need for discretion so she buttoned her lip and hustled over to my position at the fore.

"I thought we needn't worry here?" She asked me more softly. I felt she merely wanted to make conversation, but I wouldn't begrudge her that. It allowed me a small distraction from the heat.

"We shouldn't, but in my line of work it always pays to be careful." I told her, then smirked as our shoulders brushed. "Our line of work."

She flashed a smile. "I fear I'm much better in urban subterfuge, Lord Drakos."

We turned a corner, and were met by a sight that stilled the reply on my tongue. Emmaline gave a very dry "Oh," when she looked up. Before us, the path ended in a wall of stones and boulders that stacked up above us like a feudal world's wall. By my thoughts, it piled up slightly taller than Lucius, which made it well over 4 meters in height. It seemed recently fallen, as well, if the scratch marks and the lack of sediment were any indication.

"Well that is problematic," Emmaline said dryly, crossing her arms under her chest. Behind us, I heard Lucius Raj trudging up to our position. I heard his intake of breath, and he was so powerfully built I even felt a small breeze from the action. Selencia walked up to our position and eyed the obstacle with her keen eye.

"I can go through it, but it might take some time." Raj said. I glanced at Emmaline to see if the prospect worried her, and she shrugged. I felt for the hilt of my power sword, knowing it was fully capable of carving through ceramite, and so mere stone would be easy. However, I felt unless I were cutting through a completely stable surface, I could easily be crushed. An ignominious end to my career that, by most Inquisitorial standards, had just begun.

"We are entering the burial ground," I declared, touching the stone wall with the palm of my hand. The ... fortification was all I could think call it was recent and roughly mortared with local clay. That wasn't a good sign, clearly the introduction of las guns, and for all I knew, other tech, had already altered the local balance of power. Communal labor of this sort bespoke a significant change in the behavior's of the tribes. Had some local warlord risen high enough to command slaves to do this? At least it provided some shade, but as I pondered the likelihood of being crushed to death by rockfall, I decided this was of dubious advantage. At least my cover provided me with an air cooled body glove which saved me from the indignity of sweating like the others. I haven't always been able to choose high class covers, but I always try.

"Lucius, do you think you can get through without brining the whole wall down?" I asked.

"I will not be crushed," Lucius replied, which wasn't as close to yes as I might have hoped.

"The problem is simple engineering," Lazarus declared loftily, "I shall instruct Lucius Raj in which stones to remove." I was skeptical about this idea too. Lazarus and Raj had very different ideas about precision but Hadrian didn't object and I stood aside.

"Do you sense anything beyond?" Hadrian asked quietly as the Skitarii and the Thunder warrior went to work. I eyed the wall for a moment and then let my mind float outward. Almost immediately I brushed something. Crows screamed and took flight from the nearby hillocks, cawing and circling away to the north. I could taste death in my mouth, feel the wind peeling the flesh away from my bones.

"Are you ok?" Hadrian asked, his eyes alight with endearing concern.

"The valley is a bad place Hadrian," I told him quietly, "I'm not sure what is wrong with it, but there is something bad about it."

It took Lucius and Lazarus about half a standard hour to make a hole. The wall didn't collapse, though it did give something of a lurch as the last stone was removed and it settled slightly into its new consideration. I hoped through gingerly despite Lazarus' superior declaration that the wall was actually more solid now he had made his adjustments. The other side of the wall was markedly different. The valley grew increasingly rocky and bare. Ancient geological erosion had created projecting cliffs that stuck out from the valley wall at irregular intervals, like great granite teeth. On the smaller mounds I could see what looked like stella of some kind, though I knew from the archeor's reports that they were actually hollow logs that contained the ossified bones of the dead. Funerary rites varied across Havenos of course, but there was a marked preference for a lengthy decomposition followed by fetishizing of bones before eventually collecting them in logs, which were carved and painted according to their religious tradition. Only when the bones had been picked clean by predators and then ritually cleaned where they brought to the valley for final disposal. At first glance I could see a score of logs, some new, some ancient, clustered around slight rises in the ground like wooded hills whose trees had no leaves.

"This place looks haunted as frak," Clara declared, putting into words what we were all feeling, albeit slightly more crudely than some of us.

"Boss," Selenica said drawing our attention back to the way we had came. The back side of the wall was covered with bloody hand prints. Hundreds or thousands of them. Judging by size an shape there were at least a score of individuals represented and probably many more.

"If we are going to go this way," I muttered, "we need to move fast, and not just because of the moons."

The tunnel they had devised was spacious, thanks to Lucius' bulk. Evidently safe as well, we passed through without incident, all the while hoping this cavernous entryway not be the only mark I made on Havenos before an ignominious end. I received and even more dire sense of foreboding when Selencia directed my attention to the inside of the wall.

"Hadrian..." The Ordo Biologis said, approaching the structure. I followed her, placing a finger upon one of the print. My long-time friend examined them, albeit in a different method than I had done. I was merely checking to see how old the prints were, and though it was hard to ascertain, my guess was within the last few weeks. Selencia was deciphering a more esoteric mystery.

"The blood did not come from their hands." She said, stepping away. "It's...mixed between arterial and venous. Whoever put these here were the erm, perpetrators and not cultists who maimed themselves, I would imagine."

"Cultists..." I said, mulling over the word. Selencia shrugged, and placed her hands on her hips.

"Perhaps they weren't, but I've been in the yours and Inquisitor Kronus' service long enough to know where you go, there's likely worshipers of the ruinous gods. Sometimes, I think I'm not payed well enough."

A ghost of a smile appeared on my face, and I turned back to Emmaline and the others. I gave a gesture of my head to my psyker and lover. "Very well, let's hurry. There's very little to be gained here." I took a quick scan of our surroundings, almost expecting lurking figures rising over the crags, but there was nothing.

Our group moved from the wall and deeper into the bed of the valley. The sun remained as hot as ever, yet I felt a chill run down my spine. Something elusive skulked just at the edge of my senses. I wasn't half as powerful as Emmaline in psychic prowess, but I was a bit older and had longer, formal training. I could almost smell something unnerving in the air, but as we overtook our second mile, I could still see nothing.

Absolutely nothing. No insects or one of the strange rock lizards I saw before the wall. Not even any reptilian avian creatures gliding high above us. The planet itself seemed to withdraw from this barren route. It wasn't until we heard a blood curdling scream from behind that I felt I wasn't completely alone, even with my companions all around me.

We turned, brandishing weapons, but saw nothing. A few of the locals still accompanying us had scrambled over to our position, but when questioned, they shook their heads, clueless as us.

"Where's Galda?" Kelden asked, the one eyed tracker hefting his hunting auto-rifle readily. He seemed nervous, but the big man kept himself from showing it in all but his eyes. I unholstered my large caliber handgun and approached the area while Emmaline feigned granting me an aristocratic order to see what had transpired. As I passed a mound of rocks as tall as a man, I noticed a strange inscription upon one of the stones, this one oblong and clearly shaped by something with a purposeful design. I could not read the script, but it hit me at that moment.

"These are cairns." I said, and the group was given only a moment to consider the implications of that pronouncement. My words were as the trigger of a gun, for no sooner had I uttered them that a wild, keen screech erupted from the opposite side of the valley, followed by a return scream very close to my position. The stones rumbled and fell, and mounds we had initially thought were simple imperfections in the slopes burst forth and raised human-like hands as their warped bodies moved with lightning speed. I put three rounds into a mutant that had evidently been hiding behind the cairn before I even had a good look at the thing.

Its eyes were bloodshot red and it's body was both bloated and sinuous in equal measure, giving it the look of a boa that had engorged itself of some large megafauna, and yet it walked on two, very human legs. It's maw was unnaturally long and gaping with razors teeth, and I could see three arms on it, though others looked to have a random assortment of limbs. I spun, gunning down another mutant that loped towards Selencia. My shells and her needle shots brought it down, though it died hard. My eyes caught sight of Emmaline pulling out her Helix 2 and ripping through a towering mutant moments before it reached her. As it fell, I gave a grin that likely seemed crazy in the midst of this sudden, hellish melee. My thoughts drifted to my first shooting lesson with her. She might not be a marksman, but she can hit something huge right in front of her better than any.

The echoes of the shoot lasted a disconcertingly long time, rippling down the valley in decreasing amplitude. I whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the machine spirit of the Helix 2. That much I felt I could still do without feeling like too much of a fraud. I was impressed by my luck with the weapon so far, esspecially considering at the end of a long afternoon practicing with rifles, Clara's response had been to sigh and remind me I could always club someone with it. The big gun hissed on its suspensor field which I took for an acknowledgement. The mutant I had shot looked more or less human, if you didn't count the extra eyes on his arms neck and legs. I didn't doubt there had been additional eyes on his chest, but those had been burned to jelly by the discharge of my weapon.

"Ve mast move," I declared in my aristocratic accent, but instead of action there was a general murmer of discontent from the local guide. I turned and snapped my fingers.

"Ve are vasting daylight," I glowered, but the locals were crossing arms over chests, a few even fingering weapons. Clara had picked up on the tension and had rather nonchalantly turned so that her carbine covered our hirelings. Well Hadrian's hirelings I suppose, given that their contract was with an ersatz big game hunter who was in inquisitional custody.

"We did..." one of the porters blurted, then paused and knuckled his forehead when he saw the blaze of anger in my eyes.

"That is, yer ladyship, we signed on to hunt Carnadons, not trespass on some feral burial ground, not to fight mutants, nor tangle with no ferals what had las guns," he continued, his voice gaining conviction as he ran on and he received murmurs of approval and agreement from he fellows.

"How dare you," I snapped continuing to simulate area, "are the men of Havenos so bereft of testicles zat they are afraid of primitives and subhumans?" I made a broad sweeping gesture to encompass the valley.

"Old zuperstitions?" I scoffed. It was a masterful performance, exactly what an aristocratic huntress would do and maybe if they hadn't seen the bloody hands it might even have worked. That wasn't my purpose however. I had to make a decision because they thought I was the leader, but it was up to Hadrian as to how we played it.

Let them go. His thought came softly but clearly. We had practiced speaking mentally during out time at his estate. He was getting much better, though initially I had used much to complicated mental metaphors that left him scratching his head or laughing out loud.

"Very vell, if you are not men, you may stay and guard ze ve-hicles," I sneered, "those of us with spines will explore for a few days, zen we shall return."

I turned my back on them and Clara, Selenica and Lazarus began unloading gear from the half tracks. That would have had to be done anyway, unless we wanted to knock the wall down in order to bring the vehicles through. It would have been faster, but it would certainly mean fighting every mutant in the valley. I toed the one I had shot, his mouth lolling open to reveal black teeth filed to points. The must have been outcasts, cursed by custom or greatest need to live in this horrid place. I walked a little ways a way and made a show of scanning with a pocket auspex glass I kept in a pocket.

"Do you think they will actually stay with the vehicles?" I asked as he came close. He inclined his head and I followed his gaze. I noticed Lazarus seemed to be spending a little more time near the engine manifolds than necessary.

"He is convincing the machine spirits to run for a few minutes and then deactivate. I'll wager this lot will try to bolt the second we are out of sight," he said.

"Do you think our enemy might have an agent among them?" I asked, voicing a thought I had been mulling over for a while. We were well out of vox range of the settlement, but it was possible one or more of our local allies was a spy, either for our enemy or just freelance. There would certainly be spies back in the settlement who would be happy to get a story of what the big game hunters were up to for the price of a free drink, possibly warning the enemy that we were coming.

"They wouldn't be much of an enemy if they didn't," Hadrian said sounding very sexy and inquisitorial to my ear.

"Two days to the end of the valley, maybe one more to the dark of the moon," I mused, "we will be cutting this kind of fine."

"We usually do," I said, checking my sidearm to make certain it had a fully loaded magazine in it.

"Vel zen, let us git a moof on." Emmaline advocated in her borrowed accent. She did not know it, but I found myself impressed by her more often than not. She had once said she felt her accents went through her nose a bit too much, but I felt they were quite good, as someone who's had to use a few myself.

The melee had been quick and brutal, but it seemed like other than two of the locals, there had been no casualties. Lucius Raj had not even given in to his bloodlust, though it seemed to have him on edge, stomping around and smashing the corpses of the mutants in more of a tantrum than a rage. Lazarus had nearly lost one of his seven arms, but when prompted on if he was fine he screeched in a binary I was all too familiar with. Sometimes he was like a dog with an attitude, unable or unwilling to converse in our tongue and so blithely barked at you if you wished to question him of something.

With the two inhuman members of my entourage fine but not speaking, we moved forward. Our path ahead was much the same as behind. More crags and little cover, save for the occasional cloud or rock face that happened to overhang. As the sun set that night, we were attacked again. Apparently a few of the more bold mutants had kept pace with us, but Lucius had kept the rear and brutalized six of the eight that had tried to kill us, and both I and Clara dispatched the last two with well placed shots.

We had no real kindling for a fire, but Selencia had brought a Calixian Auto-light that served as a light and heat source for the night as we took a rest.

"I knew we were going to have to go on a long jaunt, though I had not thought anyone but me would use it." She said, igniting the ingenious little device. It was an expensive item, using a small load of plasma and a plate atop it to create an artificial heat source that flickered like a flame.

"I know my resources are not small, but where did you get this, exactly?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

"At an auction on Helios II." She said, then playfully rolled her eyes. She was usually all business, but it seemed she still saw me as a junior, if not a peer, when were were conversing socially. I wouldn't have it any other way in private, but it wasn't a good look otherwise. "It's in the same system as Pacitus, don't give me that look."

I shook my head and changed the subject. "Tomorrow, if we make good time we'll arrive at the swamps by nightfall. I'll take first watch."

"I can do that, commander." Lucius rumbled. Everyone shared a look. They knew he needed almost no sleep, but it was the small fact he might accidentally meet with an enemy and stomp on the party in rage that had us thinking he needed a 'partner.'

"There are two sides to watch. Ahead and behind-"

"I will. We're old friends." Emmaline said, and nudged me. "Vyat do you tink?"

I accepted it, and we did our best to rest for the night.

The valley fell slowly, slumping as though exhausted. Even so, the water it gathered was little more than a trickle, so thick with mineral salt that it glistened like spilled promethium as it glugged its way towards the southern swamps. The burials grew thicker as we approached the southern terminus, studding the rocky swale like stubble. They seemed to me almost impossibly thick, given what little I knew about the population density of the area. Perhaps the introduction of las guns had resulted in a sharp uptick in death, or perhaps the coffins were simply sturdier than they appeared. I wondered if the depth one was interned into the valley correlated somehow with status, those of low status being buried close to where they had died, with those of higher status being carried further into the blighted expanse. Perhaps the locals believed the spirits of the dead had to traverse the length of the valley to reach the next world and their chiefs got a head start.

The valley exited between gray stone peaks, greenish vegetation beginning with shocking abruptness once we cleared the rainshadow. The land fell off quickly beyond, and we were treated to a view of a hundred miles or so, though it was hazy with humidity coming up off the swamps. The Swamps was a bit of a misnomer I realized. It was closer to a system of mangroves, low muddy earth shot through with deeper channels that ran out towards the great inland sea that collected the rain water and snow melt of half a continent. I could smell it, the reek of decaying organic matter, stagnant salty water, and sulfur. It didn’t promise to be a pleasant jaunt.

We descended along a dirt track worn in the side of the mountain by generations of funeral processions. In places stones had been piled to provide crude steps, but such conveniences were few. The lower we got, the thicker the air became and the worse the smell got. By the time we reached the first gnarled mangrove trees with their thick swollen leaves, the air was a miasmic fume, thick and damp upon the skin. My calves ached terribly from the long descent. I tried to keep in shape, more to keep the amasec off my hips than for the Emperor’s glory it was true, but I wasn’t exactly used to long hikes over rough terrain. Hadrian and Lazarus showed no signs of discomfort and Clara looked like she was positively enjoying it. Selenica alone looked pained, and I took some comfort in the companionship of misery. I was about to ask what we should do next when Clara, who had been taking point with her auto gun, made a quick sharp gesture. I didn’t know what it meant, but Hadrian grabbed me and dragged me off what remained of the path, Lucius and the others following suit. We sheltered behind a vast thicket of thorny vines, its twisted knots shot through with brilliant purple flowers. For a long minute I heard nothing, then a rhythmic thumping. As we crouched I reached out and touched Lucius’ mind, calming the murderous impulses which were building there. The thumping grew louder and a dozen men and women passed us by. They were dressed in sturdy leathers, their eyes downcast. At the front of the group a young man carried one of the log coffins before him like a standard. Two other men flanked him, striking the earth with heavy staves of gnarled wood to keep the timing of their march. They all wore hoods that had been smeared red with what must have been some equivalent of ochre, not a dye, but a smeared muddy pigment caked and uneven. Feathers and bits of pearlescent material I judged to be some kind of shell festooned their clothing, clacking softly as they walked. Several of them had slung las guns, jarringly out of place with the primitive barbarity of their garb. They looked neither left nor right, simply trudging on up the path we had just descended, completely intent on their task. After ten minutes or so Clara gave a terse: “Clear.” and we emerged onto the path.

“Funeral procession,” Selenica observed. “Think there is any chance they will run across those dead mutants?” Hadrian shook his head.

“As desolate as the valley is, those mutants are probably in the cook pots of their fellows by now. If they bother cooking them at all. I assume they normally subsist on the marrow of interred bones,” he opined. My stomach turned at the idea of something eating the rotten marrow inside months old bones.

“What was with the red hoods?” Clara asked. She was in the process of taping an auspex unit to the side of her rifle, the better to find targets when the sight lines were so short.

“It is a marker,” I explained. There was an expectant silence broken by Clara who had finally finished with her tape.

“A marker of what Emm?” she prompted.

“Plague,” I told them quietly, the forest of coffins at the end of the valley suddenly making considerably more sense.

“Red hoods mean plague.”