A week later...
The Blood Angels Chapter and their successor chapters continued with post-battle efforts, while a number of rogue traders, upon hearing of Baal's defensive victory, rushed to the planet to sell supplies and machinery essential for reconstruction.
Near a gas giant named Seth, a trading post had been established by the wandering merchants of the Barrent family. This modest void structure stretched fifteen kilometers in length and ten in width, sharing its name with the lonely gas giant of the Baal System—Seth. The half-light-second stretch from Baal to the trade station was lined with transports.
As a transport bearing a feathered insignia approached the station, its trajectory was locked by a tractor beam. Routine inspection ensued, but upon seeing the feather emblem, a local security officer hastily assumed them to be Baalites and let them through.
The transport, now guided into Hangar Bay 4466, landed and opened its hatch. Bellona disembarked with two companions: an apprentice Inquisitor and a silent subordinate. This subordinate drew immediate attention—ashen-skinned and entirely hairless, he continuously rolled a Throne coin between his fingers, casting a wave of discomfort over all who passed, marking him unmistakably as a psychic Null.
"Remember your names," Bellona said, glancing at her apprentice. "Ian."
The apprentice, assigned his temporary name, nodded in acknowledgment. This naming ritual was a peculiar habit of Bellona's, a pre-mission formality that her subordinates had long learned to accept.
Then she turned to the Null. "Berrant."
Berrant, still turning the Throne coin, inclined his head slightly in silent assent. In the bustling trade post, they had no need for secrecy; each was equipped with a special communication implant allowing private, non-verbal exchanges at short range.
"Let's go," Bellona ordered, leading the way. Ian and Berrant followed in step. They maneuvered through the station, passing by shops dealing in salvaged starship parts and stalls peddling Baal's rare native goods. They ascended by lift, descended via conveyor, eventually reaching a secluded corner.
The structure was a hollowed tower, where one could see every level from the railing. The station was built with a layered design, maximizing the use of limited space.
"Who built this?" Ian asked curiously.
"The Barrent family," Bellona replied, glancing up at the glittering craftsman's hammer emblem. "The family's head, Barrent Klayne."
"Klayne? The same merchant rumored to have bankrolled the unification of the Talon System?" Ian asked.
Bellona nodded. "The rumor is likely true; without material replication, creating such a void structure in such a short time would be difficult."
"A prudent investor," Ian mused, lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the railing to wait. Berrant remained as silent and impassive as ever, his only movement the flick of the Throne coin.
They waited for a full solar cycle.
Ian, his patience wearing thin, glanced around to confirm no one else had arrived. "What exactly are we waiting for?" he asked. "And why are we even here?"
The question seemed to interest Berrant as well; the Null's rare glance fixed on Bellona.
"To wait," was Bellona's curt reply.
Accustomed to her eccentricities, Ian made no further inquiry, content to let her continue her vigil. Another solar cycle passed.
Bellona, appearing restless, leaned over the railing to peer down at the bustling lowest level of the trade station. She suddenly spoke to Ian, "We can't abandon the plan. The Eye of Terror has shrunk but not closed, and insurgent activity near its surrounding systems grows bolder."
Ian's face darkened. "I thought we had abandoned it long ago."
"Relinquishing any undertaking is difficult when so much has been invested," Bellona replied, her voice quiet but firm. "Do you remember the sacrifices we've made?"
Ian nodded solemnly. He remembered well, as well as the lengths they went to fulfill each step. To secure a substance capable of destabilizing psychics, Bellona had sown chaos throughout a remote system, assassinating planetary governors to fracture governance, leaving her free to exploit the systems' psychics and populations.
Ian knew his own complicity; without his unique telepathic abilities—even able to scan the minds of Nulls—their efforts would have floundered.
"Do you remember what the Curator told us upon arrival at Baal?" Bellona asked.
"Yes," Ian nodded. "He warned that our plans would unleash catastrophic consequences."
"Upon reflection, I believe he had a point," Bellona replied, still gazing down at the crowd. "So I intend to test it elsewhere."
"Where?" Ian asked, surprised.
"The Talon sector," Bellona replied, and the words sent a shock through Ian. "Its reality structure is remarkably resilient. We'll repeat our actions there, close to Talon, and test the potency of our psychic experiments."
Ian's hand, still holding his cigarette, trembled. He could scarcely believe she had made such a resolution. Though reports did claim Talon's reality to be unusually resistant to psychic breaches, to carry out their work there… Was it a precautionary test, or an ambition to magnify the power of their plan?
"Do you trust me?" Bellona asked, her gaze steady upon Ian.
Ian hesitated, frowning. Trust, but not blind trust.
Bellona, sensing his reluctance, continued, "After this, I'll send word to my mentor to advance your rank to full Inquisitor, so you can depart from me."
Ian nodded. "How will we reach Talon? Their security is exceptional, not easy even for the Inquisition to breach."
At that moment, a group approached them from the lift: two Ogryns in power armor, a youthful girl, and an older man. The elder's commanding presence was emphasized by his golden fur coat and the ornate golden cane he held. The cane's head, shaped like a hammer, was gripped firmly.
Ian didn't know who they were, but the sigil on their garb gave them away—the craftsman's hammer. The Barrent family. The elder must be Klayne himself, the wandering patriarch.
"Our shrewd investor has arrived," Bellona noted, continuing the hidden conversation as she warmly approached. "The Lord of Talon may never foresee that to a true merchant, everything has its price."