Chapter 18 Part 8

Chapter 18: Kronus: Aftermath

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Part 8

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Dominator Cruiser Gryphon

in high orbit above Kronus

Marat felt a profound sense of relief when he left the tactical room. He didn't quite run away. He was too dignified and experienced to make such a terrible example. Nevertheless, he was the first one out as soon as they got news about the Ecclesiarchy's delegation approach. In the same manner, Chandra didn't run into the hangar, doing his best to put as much distance between the abomination and her pet Saint, or was it the other way around?

"Anastasia, did you send our new guests a recording of the test?" Marat spoke into the vox built in his armor.

"They saw it, Inquisitor." Despite his daughter's formal tone, Chandra could hear more than a hint of mirth in her voice.

Living down those reports to the Sector Conclave and higher Imperial authorities was going to be hard, perhaps even harder than he imagined.

"The Ecclesiarchy delegation claims they have seen proof enough. They can't wait to meet the Saint."

Those poor bastards. Marat almost smirked. Misery did indeed love company.

The Inquisitor reached the landing area just in time to see an old transport shuttle ponderously make its way down. It landed with a dull clang and the hiss of stressed hydraulics. Its ramp lowered down slowly, and with even more noise, amply demonstrating that it needed either more maintenance or spare parts that conspicuously lacked.

Chandra grimaced when he felt the Pariah's aura wash over him. His spine tried to crawl away again, and he was afraid of how the representatives of the Faith would react.

A fully armored Sister of Battle walked down first. Her armored boots clanged loudly against the deck. She towered a head above Marat, which she put to good use to scanning the area for threats. When nothing obvious materialized, she nodded once, almost certainly speaking over vox. A small, colorful group of men and women disembarked and lined up in front of Marat and his companions. By now, Amberley, Veil, and the rest of their party had caught up and stood behind him.

A huge black man towered above everyone else, including the armored Sister of Battle. The odd exo-skeleton fixed to his white and red armor helped a bit in that regard, however, most of it was the fact that the Missionary was a small mountain of muscle.

"Greetings and salutations in the name of the God-Emperor!" The huge man rumbled and grinned widely, revealing two rows of golden teeth. "I'm Missionary Jacob Wolf, the leader of this humble expedition!"

"Inquisitor Marat Chandra, Ordo Malleus, a pleasure." He answered dryly. It was obvious this group was interested in only one thing – they all had their eyes focused behind Marat.

Chandra observed with satisfaction how quickly most of those grins became rather fixed and very obviously strained. He might actually get to like that little monster. As long as she kept away from him unless there were Daemons around in need of vigorous banishing.

"Let me introduce my honored colleagues, Inquisitor Amberley Vail, and the blessed by the Emperor, Inquisitor Delkatar Veil. Both serve Ordo Xenos." Marat firmly kept his glee in check, so it wouldn't show.

On second thought, as long as they could keep Veil reined in, and away from politically volatile issues, he could prove very useful to the Inquisition. While his status as a Saint wasn't officially accepted, the wings and golden radiance were clue enough, if only after ruling out a Daemonic possession anyway.

The primary reason why was staring Marat in the face. Even with the little Pariah's presence influencing them, he could clearly see the fanatic glean in the newcomers' eyes. If handled right, this could give the Inquisition sector-wide eager Ecclesiarchy support. That was always better than the grudging support they often received from certain quarters of the church.

"Your Holiness, it's a privilege to meet you!" One of the female priests gushed. Her head bobbed, spilling her blond hair around her shoulders when she went into a deep cross between a bow and a curtsy.

The others offered a similar sentiment, in a more or less controlled fashion. A glance told Marat enough – neither of the faithful was happy with the Pariah's presence. At least they had the good sense not to bring a Psyker if they suffered one in their presence in the first place. That was an amusing tangent Marat deemed better avoided. He needed his attention for the task at hand.

Well, he needed Veil's attention and dubious lead, because no one was paying him attention. The Ecclesiarchy party had eyes only for the Saint and if this persisted, it was going to be an incredibly useful distraction for covert investigations. That was another way to use Veil if only the damn Saint could learn to keep his mouth shut…

Not that he got an opportunity to open his mouth. The floodgates opened and the Priests swamped him with questions.

"Please tell us about the Emperor's blessing!"

"Can you share your insights about…"

"Would you kindly bless us in the name of the God-Emperor?"

Only Wolf and the Sister of Battle managed to keep their mouths shut, though in the former case, it was obvious that the Missionary strained to hold himself back.

"I'm glad to meet you all!" Speaking about Veil, he finally managed to get a word in between all the eager prayers and questions he got bombarded with. "Let's retreat to a more comfortable setting before we proceed?"

Marat wasn't sure if it was a question or suggestion, however, it was more than enough to get the delegation nodding and falling in line. At that, the Inquisitor had to re-evaluate the potential influence Veil, and the Inquisition, could wield over the church. This could end being either a tremendous boon or a disaster in the making.

A few minutes later, after they sat more or less comfortably within the tactical room, Marat concluded. Unless handled very carefully, Veil was going to be an unmitigated disaster. All it took, was one, not so innocent question from Missionary Wolf.

"What do you want to achieve, Saint Veil?"

Perhaps it was better that way. Otherwise, the feathered menace might have told the same thing in front of the wrong crowd with a predictably disastrous outcome. Veil opened his mouth and began speaking. Within moments, Marat felt like shooting himself. Or Veil. Perhaps both.

"My goals, Missionary Wolf? I want to save the Imperium from itself." Veil began. "I want to save it from the countless enemies besieging it from within and outside. I want to bring back the golden edge that died with the end of the Great Crusade!"

As Veil spoke, Marat could swear he began to lightly glow despite the Pariah in his lap. He was certainly sure he saw golden flecks forming both in the Saint's eyes and those of the little abomination.

"The Imperium is a shadow of what it should and could be! Right here, in this very Sector, we have the Tau! Just a few thousand years ago, the height of technology they knew were sharp rocks they used to bash in each other heads!"

The mention of Xenos killing each other violently predictably got a good reception. Not a bad start, even though it was never a good form to even hint at the Imperium being deficient in any way. Unfortunately, this was merely the beginning, and things went quickly downhill.

"Yet, right now, they're fielding technologies equal or superior to what the Imperial Guard has available on Kronus! They take for granted technological marvels that many worlds across the Imperium would never see!" Veil's wings snapped open in an angry fashion and covered the bulkhead behind his back.

Unsurprisingly, Veil now held the Priests' rapt attention. If he didn't end up starting a Crusade today, it would be a small miracle. All Marat could do was watch the train-wreck in progress with sick fascination.

"I am not praising the Tau for their ingenuity or creativity. I am damning those who let the Imperium decay for thousands of years. How many feudal and feral worlds have you seen? How many civilized worlds are pale shadows of what they could be? Our Imperium is sick. It is slowly decaying from within!" Veil proclaimed.

Marat had the sick realization that the madman meant what he spouted. This wasn't just a ploy. He wasn't playing for the public. Oh no, he was earnest. He was a fanatic. And if he wasn't stopped and redirected towards less dangerous pursuits, Marat was terrified of the damage Veil could cause with the best of intentions.

"I have a vision," The maniac kept going. "I can see us take the Tau's twisted knowledge, sanctify it in the Emperor's light and make it our own! If the Mechanicus refuses to rebuild our worlds into shining beacons of hope, then we will do it ourselves, using any means necessary!"

The maniac was talking about a Crusade all right! Just not one aimed against external enemies. Marat looked at Vail, who had a fixed, frozen smile on her face. Even the Astartes showed his true feelings in the way his lips were firmly set in a pale line.

Yet, the Ecclesiarchy people lapped it all. At that point, Marat considered shooting Veil and the Priests, purging them here and now, and damn the consequence. Then he keenly recalled the backing this crazy bastard received not once, but twice in the span of a week. Marat remembered his earlier conclusion and struggled not to giggle in despair.

Did the Emperor truly want this? Would even He on Holy Terra contemplate such an insane course of action? And if he would, what threat was out there to warrant it?

"I want to see all our worlds rebuild to the highest standard! I want them covered in gleaming cities, golden domes, and clean manufacturing districts that will be the pride of the galaxy! I want to see the Imperium reverse its long decline and enter a renaissance that should have began ten thousand years ago! I want to see humanity finally grasp its birthright and leave behind this wretched age of blind ignorance and stubborn dogma! I want to see the age of reason return! I want to see the shining beacons of knowledge and progress picked up again as an inspiration for trillions!"

At that, the Priests were on their feet, applauding and loudly proclaiming their support.

Marat and Amberley shared a long look of despair.