Capítulo 143: Chapter 19 Part 8
Chapter 19: Kronus: Consequences
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Part 8
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Gryphon
Dictator class cruiser
high orbit above Kronus
We sat within an opulent guest suite onboard the Gryphon, watching a recording of everything I said or did since coming onboard. At a first glance, I noticed nothing wrong, which was more than a little concerning. It was only after my fellow Inquisitors began tearing apart my performance and pointing out all the blunders that should have been obvious to me, that something clicked in place within my mind.
I leaned back into a velvet-covered armchair. My wings twitched as if amused and shuffled, finding themselves in a more comfortable position.
Everything I said since boarding the Gryphon sounded perfectly logical and consistent to my ears. Yet, now a ball of ice formed in my gut, and chilling dread crawled up my spine. What I suggested, in front of Munitorum representatives no less, was far past the line, where most people would get themselves shot for heresy, or treason.
My wings preened. Yeah, with those two waving behind my back, my words have a weight that most inquisitors could only dream about. That complicated matters. People who otherwise might dismiss my crazy, I twitched, at that thought, feeling a taste of gold, justified ranting, would now listen and act upon what I might say in a moment of understandable vexation.
"We've got a problem," I reluctantly admitted. Dread and righteousness struggled within me, making for a very weird mixture of emotions. "If I try hard enough, I can see the issue, it's just that, I have trouble comprehending it as a problem, even when it stares me into the face." I waved at the large monitor built into the far wall, showing my greatest hits.
"It's the Emperor's influence," Chandra announced. "It's drowning your judgment and sense of self."
My wings drooped in a display of sorrow as if they understood what the Inquisitor just said. Thinking about it, they probably did.
"Options?" I grumbled. At this rate, I was going to be a liability, and at that point, my allies within the Inquisition would be seriously thinking about dealing with me permanently. That wasn't something I needed, considering how many enemies I likely earned myself with my stunts to date.
"We get you on a ship heading for Kaurava as soon as practical. You try not to create an unmitigated disaster there, and keep your head down as much as possible." Amberley suggested. "That might give you enough time to get a handle of your new abilities, Inquisitor Veil. Meanwhile, we'll try to smooth things over with our colleagues in the local Conclave, and do some research about your situation."
"That sounds like a plan, I suppose," I muttered. My wings perked up. If I didn't get a good handle on them, people would be able to read me like an open book.
"That will have to do," Chandra agreed. "Until you leave, one of us should stick by your side to ensure you don't start a crusade by accident," he grimaced, "or intentionally, for that matter. I don't think it would be a great idea to send you along with many of our new Munitorum friends. Who knows what you'll convince them to do before you get to Kaurava."
"Some of General Alexander's troops should go. You might pick up a few Blood Ravens for your retinue as well. Librarian Anteas for example. Some of the remaining Techpriests as well, otherwise they might get purged depending on what faction of their kind arrives here next." Amberley suggested.
"We should test and see if you have better control with that blank kid hanging around. If so, it might be for the best that she accompany you as well, instead of shipping her to Holy Terra for training." Chandra added.
"Head back to Kronus, pick up a proper retinue and reinforcements for Kaurava, then figure out transport arrangements?" I summarized the plan.
"Without starting a Crusade or a civil war," Amberley added in a dry tone, though her eyes sparkled in amusement at my expense.
"I'll do my best, for what's worth it." I stood up and headed for the door, looking for the nearby hole in my awareness.
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Spaceport
Victory Bay
Kronus
Commissar Weber waited for the Inquisitors to return. He sat in the closed and heated troop compartment of a Chimera, enjoying the warmth. Even if he was free from those cursed parasites, he was far from fully recovered and still suffered the side effects of severe blood loss. The surgery scars still itched something fierce, which was supposed to be a good sign, and a side effect of the antiseptics liberally splashed all over his chest.
By all means, Charles should have been in the hospital still. However, the Emperor's work needed doing, and it wasn't like many soldiers were available, who were in any better shape. That trice-cursed daemon did a number on them all.
Weber glanced around, briefly examining the squad huddling in the compartment with him. They all looked worse to wear, even if their uniforms and gear were spotless. Drawn pale faces, sunken eyes, a heavy aura of exhaustion… When all was said and done, it was a good thing that Kronus was now as secure as it could get without a full-blown Crusade to remove the Necrons. Otherwise, any competent enemy would have a field day with them.
Engines kept roaring outside, announcing either transport lifting to the ships in orbit, or dropping down, carrying fresh troops, and more importantly, medical supplies.
"Commissar Weber," the vox caster built into the vehicle cracked to life. "Your party is on the way down. ETA five minutes. The Emperor Protects."
"You heard the woman. Let's get ourselves presentable for the Saint's party." Charles ordered. He noted in satisfaction how everyone perked up and brightened.
He opened the ramp and got out first. The squad pilled out after him, many of them stumbling on not entirely steady legs. The same picture repeated itself with the rest of the security platoon getting out of their vehicles. The right drugs and stimulants could have had them all on their feet and sharp, however, those were a very limited precious commodity that went for officers and specialists who had critical jobs in need of doing primary medicae and logistics personnel. Under the circumstances, Charles didn't consider himself of vital importance and declined the offered stimulants, so they could go to someone whose job was more critical.
"Get one last sweep for unpleasant surprises, then gather in front of the ramp," Weber ordered. The LT in charge of the platoon saluted and began issuing orders, followed by the NCOs. Soon, half the platoon split in fire-teams carrying auspexes and began scanning for trouble. They found that nothing had gone wrong since the sweep they did on arrival and soon, everyone was in a parade formation, watching three craft quickly descend towards their part of the spaceport. A large transport, flanked by two fighters, came down screaming through the air. The smaller craft broke off, and the transport landed on shrieking jets of fire. It rotated, so its loading ramp faced the waiting party, and finally cut off its roaring engines. The ramp lowered, revealing a solid wall of armored figures.
Anteas walked out first, his armored feet causing small booms with each step. A squad of white armored Sisters of Battle followed him before the Saint finally got out. Veil paused for a bit and stretched his wings, which shone under the rays of the setting sun.
"Charles!" One of the Sisters of Battle exclaimed happily. "It's good to see you all right, my son!"
"Mother!?" Weber blurted out and stared at the tall figure leading the Sisters of Battle contingent.
Estado de energía semanal
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