Emilia Amatti looked almost with admiration at such an astonishingly brazen leader of the rebels. Even in such a dire situation, he still stubbornly refused to give up, having come up with such a crazy yet interesting plan.
How could he even know that there was an orc invasion going on at Armageddon when she herself had only recently learned of it? Commissioner Jarrick's desperate cry for help had not gone unheard, but the nearest Imperial Guard forces were too far away and it would take too long before they arrived.
The planet Antara was close enough for them to come to the rescue.
And there was more to it than that. Emilia had to give this "Saint" credit, his words made more sense than one might think.
Despite the fact that the PDF forces outnumbered the rebels several times over and were on the defensive, things were far from certain.
Emilia had visited many worlds loyal to the Emperor in the past, along with her mentor, and in most of them the planetary defense forces were a sad sight. Incompetent, inept, and corrupt, they were meat compared to the Imperial Guard, let alone any of the Skitarii Mechanicus.
And here the situation was no better. The PDF was to be opposed by the most ruthless and fearless bandits from the grassroots of Ixodus, who were also supported by the ordinary citizens.
If this were a normal rebellion, the attackers might run and surrender in the event of particularly heavy casualties or pressure, but everything Amatti had seen said one thing: these men would not run.
The iron discipline, the lack of looting and pillaging, the chants of praise for the Emperor and, badly, his prophet, even down here, all made for an unsolvable problem.
Emilia took a pause, watching the "prophet's" face closely, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but the only thing she could figure out was his irritation. There was a feeling that the man was pissed off at literally everything around him.
Surprised looks were thrown at both herself and the prophet while the silence made everyone around them nervous and fidgeting. Emilia had to give the man credit with slight respect, there were few people who could stand in front of an inquisitor and feel so at ease.
What to speak of, if it seemed as if this man didn't care, which, of course, he didn't! Even the most sophisticated cultists of Slaanesh and Nurgle lost their boasted fearlessness of pain when they realized who stood before them. The Inquisition had a long history of inflicting pain even on those who enjoyed it or could not feel it.
And it could not be said that the Saint did not realize who stood before him. He had called her for a reason, because she was the only one with the power to get his ass out of this mess. Moreover, the glances he'd been giving her scythe were not lost on her. Could he have known what the artifact was? And if so, from where?
And in this whole situation, the big question remained, "What's best for the Imperium?"
On the one hand, it would be much easier to let things unfold as they should, after all, that wasn't her specialty. She, like her teacher, was a member of the Ordo Malleus, the branch of the Inquisition that set out to combat the threat of demons and study what demons were.
The problem of rebellions, heresies, and religious cults was more of an Ordo Hereticus issue, though no one was stopping her from dealing with it herself.
But if she really let it go on, it was highly likely that the PDF's defenses would be breached and the main planetary hive would be overrun. It's not hard to assume that after the main hive the fire of the rebellion will spread to the others, which will cause interruption of planetary supplies, which, again, will cause damage to the Imperium. There was no way Emilia was going to let that happen.
Yes, after a while spaceships with Imperial Guards would arrive to the rebellious world, after which they would use laser fire and artillery to re-establish law and order here. But the damage will have already been done on all levels.
Not that that would stop anyone. Emilia had only recently become a full-fledged Inquisitor, but she had seen so many horrors in her life that a rebellion, and even without the forces of destruction, seemed so insignificant as to be embarrassing.
If it had been any of her more puritanical colleagues, such as the Thorians, much less the monodominants, the fate of these rebels would have been sealed in the blink of an eye, but to their luck, her mentor and now herself were of the radical branch.
Unlike the hard-headed Puritans, Emilia and her mentor believed that trying to defeat chaos by physical methods alone was simply impossible. Besides, using psykers and astropaths, but abandoning other avenues of warp study, isn't that silly?
That's why when Amatti had the opportunity to get hold of the scythe of one of the elite Necronian warriors after a hard trip to Gromicon II, she took it immediately and never regretted it.
The heavy scythe, though it was an unfamiliar weapon designed for warriors of a very different build, made up for its inconvenience by its phenomenal resistance to any manifestation of the Warp and its ability to self-repair once it was immersed in the flesh of creatures that had been in contact with the force of change for a long time. The incredible sharpness of the blade was also included.
And here the luck of the rebels once again showed its golden face. After all, what color could luck be but golden, like that of the infallible God Emperor?
Mentor Amatti belonged to a separate branch of Radical philosophy, the Recongregators. He and the Inquisitors of the same philosophy believed that the Imperium as it now stood was nothing more than a self-destructive construct whose end was predetermined.
Their goal was to initiate positive change and innovation in the Imperium that would help humanity escape the endless crisis and stagnation.
To this end, the Recongregators supported numerous rebellions and those who attempted to change outdated norms and laws.
In the opinion of the rest of the Inquisition, they were very close to the limit of heresy even for radicals, but the Recongregators were willing to sacrifice themselves if it would allow the Imperium to step forward.
Emilia regretfully concluded that trying to help this rebellion was pointless. If the leader of the rebellion were an ordinary human, she could still do something, but using the theme of holiness was a mistake.
The Ecclesiarchy would sooner or later receive a report of some new "Saint" and allocate more than enough resources to catch him. In the end, even if the rebellion wins and the Saint stands at the head of Antara, he won't have time to change anything before the holy "barges" come crashing down on them.
Except, just because she can't help him in the long run doesn't mean she has nothing to offer him right now.
Radicals are different from Puritans in that they are not shy about taking advantage of every opportunity. Where a foolish Puritan would burn everything, a radical will find real diamonds lying underfoot.
What good would it do if the surrendering or fighting rebels were simply slaughtered? Add to that their resistance and the picture finally becomes unpleasant. But sending a couple hundred thousand, albeit dubious and zealous fighters to the fighting Armageddon might help the planet hold out against the orc hordes until reinforcements arrive.
If the Saint survives even then... well, the eklesiarchy rarely lets its prey out of its claws, and sooner or later it will catch up with it.
Nonetheless, Emilia would make sure the letter to Terra was late enough for the arriving merchant ships to successfully transport the rebels to Armageddon.
Amatti had a couple of suitable free traders willing to help the glorious cause of the Inquisitorium on a pro bono basis.
- All right. - one single word from the inquisitor made the people literally go crazy.
But if the rebels were almost jumping for joy, Decius Numenorius, who was standing nearby, almost went mad with fear mixed with rage
His confusion was so great that he even dared to reach out to try to grab the inquisitor's shoulder armor. But to his misfortune the latter had attendants.
- Uggh!" the Lord Constable barely suppressed a cry of pain as the giant paw of a nearby ogre grabbed his elbow and nearly crushed him in passing.
- No touching. Pretty lady. Otherwise. Gron to rip his arms out. - The blunt but absolutely loyal giant explained lucidly, lowering his lumpy head, making the general's graying face reflected in the wide, ominous red lens of the artificial eye inserted in the ogrin's left eye socket.
- Gron, let him go," Emilia ordered calmly, and the ogre immediately complied, staring trustingly at the diminutive young woman. - Thank you for your attentiveness.
- Gron will die for the lady. - and such certainty filled those words that everyone believed them at once.
- Now, about you," the Inquisitor turned to the screen again. - What's your name?
- Stas. - Emilia nodded in satisfaction without waiting for her to continue. The vague reports that the "Saint" refused to recognize his sainthood were true. That didn't mean it would save him from the ecclesiarchy, though. They'll burn him anyway.
- Then, Stas, give your troops orders to train and prepare to load onto the ships that are about to arrive. With your luck, Armageddon does have a need for troops. And I've got a couple of space merchants ready to help you get there.
- I'll give the order. - Stanislav nodded gratefully, and he meant it.
The gazes of the Inquisitor and the self-appointed Saint met one last time and Emilia gave the man a slight nod, recognizing his fortitude and intelligence. She had no doubt that the 'Saint' had considered all variations of their 'game of regicide' and had now cold-bloodedly chosen the one in which he had the most to gain. Emilia couldn't help but respect a man who could so calmly control his own fate, knowing the end that awaited him.
How could she know that the death-wishing Stanislav considered any, even the worst option, as his victory?
*****
Decius Numenorius was frankly nervous. Not even that, he was in a complete panic.
His attempt to personally report on the conversation between the Inquisitor and the Saint had failed immediately because he was simply not allowed into the governor's palace! Not only that, he was also unable to communicate with Francois' secretariat.
The plastered clerks only smiled politely at him with deadpan smiles, which made Numenorius feel the cold lump in his insides sink deeper and deeper.
It was not hard to realize that the governor was not at all happy about the inquisitor's decision and, logically, the next failure of his Lord Constable.
And if there was one thing Decius recognized, it was the vindictiveness and spitefulness of his superior.
Fools! They scream about the horrors of warp or bloodthirsty xenos, but Númenorius genuinely thought his planetary governor could outsmart many of them.
The sound of a message from his personal cogitator made Decius roll off the bed and jog to his desk. As he turned on the machine and performed the initial litany, the man's fingers twitched.
A push of a button and the white-haired Lord Constable, or rather, former Lord Constable, read the merciless lines written by Verdon himself.
In the whole letter, you and I are only interested in the last lines:
"... Due to numerous errors, you are stripped of your Lord Constable regalia. My rival is right, it's about time I found a real professional. However, even your poor skills will find suitable employment. At first I thought I'd send you to clean up Grox shit for life. You couldn't have done anything wrong there, but the new Lord Constable has offered me a better option. From this day forward, you are placed under the complete authority of this "Saint". If you wanted his survival so badly that you did nothing I'm sure you'll be happy to share his fate..."
Decius struck the cogitator in a frenzy, destroying the machine and showering the room with broken parts and sparks.
He had already been replaced and was now being sent to a foolish death! Trying to stop an orotic VAAAGH to the forces of some bandits was madness. And there was no choice! He had to obey this Saint, otherwise his fate would be even sadder.
Decius' gaze involuntarily stopped on his good old lasgun. The idea of ending everything here and now looked more appealing than ever. Suddenly the former Lord Constable's eyes flashed darkly.
If he wasn't killed, he would do his best, spend his life if necessary, but he would pay his debt to Verdon! Even if he has to make an alliance with the vile creatures of the hive below, he will do so to exact his revenge.
And he, Decius Numenorius, will do his best to ensure that the rebel army survives their future campaign at Armageddon.
*****
A huge, stone obelisk, towering five hundred meters up and going two hundred and fifty down. The width of its base was also two hundred and fifty meters.
The material of the obelisk consisted of a bluish-black porous stone, remotely similar to obsidian. It was pierced by thousands of holes up to one meter wide, where sand constantly accumulated during dust storms.
If someone managed to walk another few hundred kilometers to the right, to the left, forward and backward across the deserted surface of the dead planet, they would certainly come across the exact same pylons.
Erected by who knows when and by whom, the thousands of obelisks were patiently fulfilling their true purpose, which was to weaken or destroy the warp currents.
But it couldn't go on like this forever.
An accident of cosmic scale and a truly gigantic asteroid from somewhere outside the system smashed into the body of the planet.
From the titanic collision throughout the body of the planet passed critical cracks, and the cosmic body split, after which its pieces began to drift in different directions.
However, we are interested not in the death of an unknown dead planet on the edge of space, but in its small surviving piece, on top of which froze intact blue-black obelisk.
Seemingly unremarkable shard, carried through the emptiness of space to his only known goal, while gaining speed.
Once within the gravitational radius of the nearest black hole, it almost disappeared, but at the last second before its total destruction, the warp rift carried the accelerated obelisk somewhere else, where it continued to cut through space, heading toward its known target.
Deadly to all living things, the black spike flew so fast that it was literally tearing through empty space.