Editing Bleeding Out: A Custodian's Story (Warhammer High) (section)

=== A Summons to the Palace ===

The distant glint of an approaching aircraft silhouetted against the growing darkness of the night sky caught Quadriga’s eye. The daylight sky might still be more brown than blue despite centuries of geo-engineering to reverse the effects of Old Night, but the night was still black.

As the craft came closer, he immediately recognised what it was. An Orion Gunship, a vessel he had once been intimately familiar with when he had still been flying for the Legion.

The Orion speared out of the sky like a thunderbolt from the heavens, braking at the last second to land. Quadriga was glad his helmet concealed the small smile on his face. He remembered doing much the same thing back when he was behind the controls.

The rear hatch slid open and several Treasury Guard emerged, clad in beetle-black carapace with lasguns at the ready. Then behind them, resplendent in lacquered black armour covered in gold filigree was Skuratova, a pair of aides following in her wake.

One of the Aquilon Terminators on sentry duty called over to her, “Vigilantia.”

“Confido.” Skuratova called back crisply, and the Aquilon waved her towards where Quadriga was waiting.

“Honoured Custodian,” were her first words to him, along with a salute. Quadriga rolled his eyes, thankful she couldn’t see him doing so.

“Director-General.” he replied. “The site is secure, and all evidence has already been forwarded to the palace. I’m of half a mind to begin dismantling the lockdown so services can return to normal on the morrow.”

“I concur.” Skuratova replied, her eyes flicking over the scene, the Treasury Guards and Arbites standing vigil beside the towering forms of the remaining Custodian Guards.

“Most of my brethren have already returned to the palace.” Quadriga continued. “I intend to follow them as soon as everything is set.”

“You’ll be returning to the palace sooner than that, I’m afraid. I have orders.” Skuratova pulled out a scroll affixed with the seal of the Council of Terra. “We’ve both been called forth to testify. I will brief you as we head back.” She had already turned on her heel and was heading back towards the Orion.

“Could the Council have given us some time to gather ourselves before we have to answer to them?” Quadriga growled. “I am reminded of what the Warmaster once said: that it would our own bureaucrats that would spell the doom of the Imperium.”

Skuratova gave a small smile before turning back to him. “I don’t think they’ll be bringing the Imperium to its knees anytime soon. But that’s not the only reason we are called forth. We have to debrief the Daughters and speak to them on what’s happening next with regards to their security.”

Quadriga grimaced under his helmet. Of all his duties, direct contact with the Daughters was the one he always felt the worst about. They were more alien to him that any Eldar or Ork.

“There is much for us to do at the Palace,” Skuratova continued, “and time is of the essence. Hence why your brothers were kind enough to give me transport me here on the fastest transport in your arsenal. We should be back at the palace within an hour.”

“Allow me to pass my authority on, and I will join you.” Quadriga turned away and heading towards Axiopolis.

“I have been summoned to the Palace.” Quadriga addressed him bluntly. “Command is yours once again. Have everyone dismantle the site and then dismissed. It’s been a long day, and they’ll need the rest. As will you.”

“Yes, honoured Custodian.” Axiopolis replied. “I am honoured to have served with you this day.”

“I don’t think either of us will get much honour out of this day, but your words are noted. Good day, Axiopolis.” Quadriga turned and headed for the Orion.

Skuratova was impatiently waiting for him, and with a loud thump he sat down opposite her, laying his spear down. The hatch hissed shut behind him, and Quadriga felt the faintest movements through the grav field as the aircraft took off and sped away, bound for the Palace.

“So,” Quadriga began. “What can you tell me that I don’t already know?”

“We know the identity of the shooter.”

Quadriga felt his pulse spike. “Who?”

“Ulysses Keiter.” Skuratova handed over a dataslate, which Quadriga gently took. A face, pale, plain and unassuming was displayed on it.

“Employed by the Civil Honors Union in underhive work. No criminal record. Civil rifle and pistol permits. Membership in the Sons of the War.” Skuratova continued. “No known gang or cult activities.”

“Watchword is ‘known’.” Quadriga replied. “No-one would act that way alone. Has his hab been searched?”

“It’s being pulled apart as we speak. Every last thing in there will be taken out and examined. A full search. No stone will be left unturned.”

“Good.” Quadriga rumbled.

“The first interrogations will take place tomorrow. At the moment he is under sedation.”

“Have they set the mind-hounds to him?”

“Not yet, but I fully expect them to as part of tomorrow’s first round. If there’s anything hidden in his mind, they will pull it out.”

“He’s worked in the underhives. That’s where all the recidivists and cultists lie. Those who reject the Imperial Truth and work against unity. My fellows have operated against them in the past.” Quadriga mused aloud. “Whatever drove him to this probably lies there. It might be worth sending a team into the depths of Tetra to see what we can uncover.”

“Surely the Indigatus or the Assassinorum would be better suited for that line of work that the Legio Custodes.” Skuratova pointed out. 

To that, Quadriga gave a chuckle that sounded like the grinding of tectonic plates or the rumble of distant guns. “You have no idea what we are capable of. Not even the Primarchs know what we in the Legio Custodes can do. None save the Emperor know the limits to our capabilities.”

Skuratova was silent for a few seconds. Then she said softly “Nineteen years we have worked together, and yet I find you as mysterious as you were the day we first met. You truly are a breed apart.”

“The Emperor made me that way.” Quadriga replied. “He made us all that way. He made the Astartes for one purpose, and the Custodians for another. He made the Primarchs, and for reasons I still cannot quite fathom, he made the Daughters. Each of us is a cog in the great machine the Emperor has made. And now someone has set out to knock out a cog and disrupt the machine. It is our task now to set it right.”

“Your task maybe,” Skuratova corrected him. “My task is to make sure those nineteen cogs of yours that the rest of us call the Daughters are safe and secure, free to live their lives without fear. That is all that matters.”

Quadriga shook his head and his fingers gripped the seat as he felt the craft shudder slightly, engines growling as they pushed the craft higher into the atmosphere. “A risk has now been identified. We have to mitigate that risk. We cannot let this event be repeated. The trouble is that regular humans only ever seem to think in the short term, while my kind are trained to think of the bigger picture.”

“And the bigger picture can wait until tomorrow.” Skuratova growled, her temper flaring. “Right now we have to reassure eighteen scared young women that the Treasury can be relied upon to protect them.”

“They are not the ones you need to assure.” Quadriga countered. “Dealing with them will be simple compared with the Council of Terra.”

“One bloody thing at a time Quadriga.” Skuratova shook her head angrily, before pointedly turning her gaze to the front of the ship. Even her aides shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Someone has to think of these things. Just as you have to remind me that the here and now also requires attention. That’s why we’ve worked so well together these last nineteen years. You handle the immediate and short term, and I keep the long game in mind. It’s why we’ve done so well thus far.”
She turned back to face him, and that hardened face seemed softer in that instant. “I hope you are right.”