The Radical Inquisitor

Chapter 1

It was quiet in his quarters. He had stated that he had wanted some privacy for a few hours, and privacy was what he got. The last thing anyone would like to have is an Inquisitor that is more-than-annoyed at you for not leaving him the hell alone. He was sitting in the comfy leather chair he had fitted into his private quarters when he claimed ownership of the vessel, the Vox Luna, which he had had for some time now, around a decade and a half. It was decent sized, not nearly as large as Imperial battleships but a fair bit larger than civilian vessels, apart from the colossal cargo-haulers that plied the stars on their routes to distant planets needing supplies, most of them desperately, due to the rather disastrous state of the Imperium as a whole. Yes, it continued to function, but like a man who has lost a leg and is left alone in the wilderness, bleeding out and waiting for death, the only things keeping him going willpower, hope and faith. Ah, faith, that was something he had not felt very much of for, how long? A few months, a year, two years? It didn't matter - what mattered was whether or not he could find solution to solve at least one of the many problems the Imperium of Man faced in order to help prolong its life, maybe (he thought with a bit of hope) save it.

Pushing aside the problems for another time, for the thousandth time, he opened the cabinet he had on the side of his desk, and pulled out one of the things which made him smile - a glass bottle of Yrettian, a drink from his home planet of Zerzura, a desert world in the north-east of Segmentum Obscurus. From what he could remember of his time on the planet, the drink was made from fermented fungi and fruits found by the oasis's, before being distilled and mixed with a solution made up of water, spices and venom from the kilometre long land worms which prowl the enormous desert wastes of the planet. Uncorking the bottle, and smelling the rather sweet and sour flavour flow the neck, he poured himself a small glass of the drink. Then, corking the bottle again, he raised his glass to his rosette, which was hanging from the small serpentwood candle stand on his desk. "Ave Imperator," he said, toasting the man who was the single most powerful symbol in the entire human race. When he sipped the beverage from his home, the flavours brought back memories of his past on Zerzura: the sights of the bustling city of the capitol, the wildly dressed people, the rich mixture of fumes and sounds that overlaid everything he saw.

"M'lord," he received through the vox built into the surface of his desk. He sighed to himself, then reached over and pressed the rune on the desk.

"Yes," he replied, taking another small sip of his drink.

"The sensors are picking up disturbances, and we thought that you might need to see them."

He sighed to himself again, then said "I will be there shortly, captain," before cutting the transmission. He finished his drink, then left the glass on the desk. He picked up his rosette, the red stylised 'I' of the holy Inquistion with a horned skull on its face. He hung it from around his neck, and felt the tingling sensation as the conversion field enveloped him in its protection. Not that he would need it, but he just liked having the assurance of some instant protection. He got his shoulder holster and put it on, and placed the long slender laspistol (adapted and improved so that it could do some serious damage if needed) into it, feeling the scroll-worked barrel fitting neatly into the leather sleeve on his side. He then retrieved his greatcoat, a piece lined with light but superdense materials that could stop an autogun round if needed - again he liked the protection. He then went over to the mirror on one of the walls, and looked himself over.

He had a full head of rust coloured hair, which he kept fairly short. His skin, like his hair, was also rust coloured - not to the same degree as his hair, but still a rich orange-brown colour. He had a 'handsome face', as per the opinion of various female nobles and higher-ups from the planets he had seen - a somewhat square jaw, light blue eyes, and a healthy complexion. He had broad shoulders and was fairly tall, and he made sure that he was fit and strong, his body coated in lean muscle. Rubbing his eyes of dust which formed when he dozed, he made himself presentable - he had standards to maintain, he was an Inquisitor.

Satisfied, he walked over to the door, and pressed the large rune on the wall next to the portal. With a click, and a c-chunk, the door unlocked, and then with a hiss opened, allowing passage into the corridor beyond. Leaving his room, Inquisitor Quintus Gaermann strode down the hall, towards the bridge of his vessel. As he went to the bridge he heard footsteps catch up to his own, then followed him. Smiling to himself, he looked over his shoulder to see his acolyte, Jannos Wheart. She was dressed in black uniform, her own seal on the breast of her coat, while her black hair was neatly done up and pulled back. Her face was focused, but it warmed up when she saw him looking at her. Turning forwards again, Quintus continued to the bridge, Jannos in tow.

He reached the bridge in around five minutes, his quarters not too far from the main base of operations on the ship. Serfs ran around on the lower deck of the bridge, performing tasks around the dridge of the Vox Luna while servitors hardwired into the consoles rapidly numbered in commands, keeping the ship in its exact position, processing and recording the input from the various sensors found on the ship while also transmitting and receiving messages from around the vessel, keeping the ship in top functioning condition at a pace that would be incomprehensible for the normal serfs. On the higher deck of the bridge, sat Captain Stronti Hyervak, a short but sturdy man of tougher stuff than most others in the human race. He barked orders occasionally, small things most of the time, such as moving the ship slightly or for someone to fetch him his drink, cigar or whatever he needed at the time.

"Captain," Quintus said, to get the attention of the man while he walked towards him, Jannos still following him. "You called."

"Ah, m'lord," said Stronti, relaxing slightly as he saw Quintus, finding someone to share in the stress of their current predicament. "The sensors found something." A serf standing nearby walked over, holding a dataslate in his hands.

"M'Lord, a disturbance was found approximately 12.36 seconds ago, roughly 3.4 thousand kilometres to the port of the Vox Luna. It appears to be a warp disturbance, and the Navigator has reported that he can see something in the Immaterium, but he cannot discern what it exactly is. The sensors and the Navigotar both say that the object is not large - it is maybe the size of a small shuttle, or a piece of space detritus, and it is the sole thing entering realspace. It should be breaking the barriers between the warp and the material universe in approximately seven minutes."

"Thank you, you may return to your station," said Quintus, his imagination producing various scenarios and ideas as to what the object, right now tearing its way through the veils of reality, is. "Any other information Captain?"

"Not much else i'm afraid. Suggested course of actions?"

Quintus thought for a moment before speaking. "Message the soldiers, tell them to prepare for an unknown object being transported to the ship imminently. Also, prepare a shuttle large enough to transport the object back to the Luna. Message the Magos, as well - they'll need to prepare in case there is anything that might be useful on board the vessel."

"Yes, lord," said Stronti, before barking at the serfs and Servitors to carry out his instructions.

Contemplating the events taking place currently, Quintus walked off to the side, away from the Captain, and talked quietly with Jannos. "We need to be careful about this - for all we know, there could be a moral threat on the object. If that is the case, we'll need to prepare for that scenario - prepare the equipment, and fetch Veryn, he'll be useful if this turns ugly."

"Yes, m'Lord," Jannos responded, turning and leaving for the depths of the ship.

Quintus returned to his quarters, and looked around his desk. The majority of his quarters was made up from the thing; his quarters were not very large, he preferred it that way. It had his bed, a small cogitator unit, a wardrobe with his clothes, and his desk. Littered all over the desk were bits and pieces: pieces of metal, wiring, sheets of paper, and other things. Underneath the desk was a safe, a solid block of metal with a keypad with 35 separate keys, and needing a 35 digit code to be entered in order to open it - the sheer number of possibilities as to the correct code keeping its contents secured for as long as need be.

Quintus knelt down after locking the door, and punched in the code, having memorised it as soon as he could. When the safe received the full code, it beeped, and then with a mechanical crunch, the door opened. Preparing himself for it, he opened the safe fully, exposing its sealed interior. There was one thing in the safe, and it was his duty to protect the object from prying eyes. It was his Grimoire - a list of the names of daemons that inhabited the realm beyond reality.

Inquisitor Quintus Gaermann was an agent of the Ordo Malleus, the Daemonhunters - it was his line of work that dealt with those nightmares.