# Blood on Metal



## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

_As mentioned in my Member of the Month interview I have been working on a 40K novel for a while. My technique of writing has always been to expand the idea into a synopsis, write an entire draft then edit the whole story at the end, and I was intending to do the same for this. However, I find it hard to read longer pieces in one sitting, or find my place, on a computer screen and I am trying to expand my repertoire, so I have decided to try serialising it._

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3/927/825M41 - _The depths of Vixus III_

Sharp pain tore through Brak's guts, wrenching him from sleep. The press of bodies huddled in the vent threatened to hold him down before fear pushed him free.

Lashing out instinctively into the semi-darkness with the crude shank experience kept grasped even in sleep he was shocked to find no target, before the agony of thousands of teeth shredded his reason. His free hand wrapped around the wound, feeling plates slick with blood lash across his palm then twist. He desperately grabbed over and over, forcing himself to tear deeper and deeper into his own chest before frantically stabbing down with the shank.

A clean pain followed by a slight relief. It paid to keep your shank sharp. Then the ground came up to meet his head. A smooth face gazed down at him and clean robes waved in the stuttering breath of the air-vent. He started falling upward into pools of infinite care before the pain dragged him down. As the pain slipped away a crisp click undercut his last rasped breath.

The scent of copper mingled with rotting cloth and damp iron as the first hands slid across his cooling body.


* * *​

3/928/825M41 - _Restricted Airspace, Vixus III_

Venria ran her fingers slowly across the new pip on her coat. Not only a move up in rank but a move up within the Spires. Her work in bringing down Allistun Verek and his Spinners had been noticed and now she was to replace Intelligencer Sorih as head of Variant Recidivism.

Keeping her face set in the impassive mask appropriate for His Justice, she watched Spire Tercius start to appear through the smog. At first she could only make out the roughest shapes, but soon buttresses, each with their statue of a mighty hero, cleft the murk. As the flyer passed the nearest statue she noticed tiny figures moving across it, minor recidivists working off their sins by cleaning the outside of the Hive. Washing memorials to those whose legacy they had sullied was, she thought, a most suitable punishment.

Returning her eyes to the dataslate she sipped her recaff as she scrolled through personnel appointments again. It appeared her predecessor had run a tight watch, although she suspected that not everything had made it into the files. Arbitrator (First Class) Douglass Fisger possessed a material-to-resolution ratio that was the highest in the department and his performance reports were excellent, yet he had never been promoted to Intelligencer.

Chastising herself for seeking answers without sufficient evidence, she closed the files and returned to her introductory briefing for the new team:

"...His death is not only an affront to the Emperor's Divine Justice, it is also a personal affront to his family and colleagues. I never had the honour of meeting him. However, I did have the pleasure of working closely with more than one of the fine Arbitrators who had trained under him and so I share in your feelings of loss. It is all too easy to fall victim to anger, and to surrender to calls for a swift conclusion. However he would not want his last case to receive anything other than our best efforts, and so I will ensure that our investigation is a testament to the impartial, righteous, and unavoidable justice that is our duty. The duty that Intelligencer Sorih championed throughout his many years of service...."


* * *​

_Arbites Section House Primus, Section 3_

Striding along the corridor while crisply returning the salutes of each person she passed, Venria was pleased that none ceased their activity to offer assistance. The identical nature of all node Section Houses was another clear advantage of uniform procedures as it removed entirely the need for current staff to divert their time into guiding new staff. Turning sharply whilst taking a swift breath to kill her irrelevant thoughts, she walked through the door into the office of Variant Recidivism and over to the far wall, instructing the team to keep their seats as she went.

A small table stood just to the left of her position with a full pot of recaff resting on a warming plate. Folding her hands behind her back, she faced the room. The overwhelming impression was that it was small, made smaller by the boards arranged around and even out from the walls, each covered in copies of evidence. Stacked boxes of evidence added to the sense of a sub-room for each open case. Regulation desks were slotted in and around the alcoves, each stacked with more copies of evidence, cogitators and the various charms and mementos of a team. Her new squad, some she noted still in plain clothes, had arranged themselves wherever there was space. As the seconds stretched, the lack of order rendered her silent before training marched her tongue into action.

"As you are aware I am your new supervising officer, Intelligencer (First Class) Venria Atella. Intelligencer Sorih has provided me with dossiers on each of the investigations ongoing and current processes...."

With the rehearsed words needing little attention, she used the appropriate pattern of shifting eye contact to conceal a more thorough review of the room. Someone had fixed hooks into the walls to support a hammock, currently stowed. She tentatively classified this as existing for moments when leaving an investigation to go to the barracks would take too long. It was unorthodox but demonstrated a commendable dedication to duty; no doubt improvements in process would remove the need. Surroundings memorised, she commenced comparing personnel dossiers to seating locations; the natural spread and postures indicated that team cohesion was strong but she was not part of it. Arbitrator Fisger, however, did not appear to be present.

Reminding herself that it would give an unsuitably relaxed impression to take the helm while holding a cup of recaff she attempted to strong-arm her mind into focussing only on her prepared speech and the team; however the scent was drifting across the room and taking her concentration with it. Finally, the elusive piece of the disorder succumbed to her analysis. There was a gap in the seating pattern that lead back to a desk surrounded almost entirely with stacked evidence boxes. Boxes with indices of different colour and sequence. Fisger's file indicated he would not miss a meeting and a stable team would instinctively leave each other's sight lines open, so Fisger was at the centre of the disorder.

She filed away an initial hypothesis on his delayed promotion and, deciding upon the correct starting point to her improvements, refocused entirely on her speech to deliver the appropriate of the several optional endings.

"... and so as my first step I am instituting a clear desk policy...."

Venria tried to keep note of which faces fell as she made the announcement; however, with the most likely facilitator concealed she resigned herself to reanalysing the heirarchy later.


* * *​

3/932/825M41 - _Chapel of St Vigor, Section 4_

Daniel Grish sneezed as a cloud of cinders gusted into his face. The priest had added a lock to the censer. Wiping ash from his tunic he decided to try the vestry.

Turning toward the altar he struck his right knee on a pew. Not only had the tight-fisted bastard locked the censer, he seemed to have taken away the candles. How was a humble pardoner supposed to spread the crumbs of the Emperor's mercy to the sinful but affluent if it was locked away. He could see why the actual sacraments needed to be protected, but candles and incense were blessed by being close to the blessed transmutation so surely they were intended vessels of mercy. Sealing them away was more than not charitable it was positively irreligious. And what about the example it set? How could ordinary people, mired as they were in the slough of commerce, see the unity of Man if their priest did not demonstrate trust? It was almost a duty to recover the items from their bondage.

Rubbing his knee he began to move down the aisle. A gutter of flame revealed one candle still present, but took the beginnings of his night sight. However it did remind him of the suffrage candelabrum, so he considered the trade a fair one. Making his way forward almost by memory he was pleased to see that flickers of light illuminating other candles. Peering at the box welded to the stand he was overjoyed to find even more. Suffrage candles were always popular for bringing travellers back safely.

A sharp click came from behind him, pausing his hand in the act of reaching for his prize. Puzzled he started to turn before a blow knocked him forward into the candelabrum, upsetting it and dousing the flame. Attempting to stand and untangle himself he achieved neither and ended up on his back. The small spill of light from the votive window revealed a robed figure diving toward him.

Flailing desperately backward his right knee accidentally made contact with his attacker, knocking the figure sideways but jarring the already bruised joint. Even as the pain subsided a new more brutal pain tore through his chest. Curling instinctively into a ball he felt something slip out, followed by his blood and will.

Vague hands uncurled him and he felt the flags slide beneath him before being propped against something. Something pressed against his right hand and an odd tearing sound caught his ear before blood loss took his interest away forever.

* * *​


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

i'd buy it


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## LazyG (Sep 15, 2008)

Are you interested in comment & criticism? I think it is good but there are some places it could be improved - I can't help it, the editor in me whips out the red pen whenever I read things.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

gothik said:


> i'd buy it


High praise indeed.



LazyG said:


> Are you interested in comment & criticism? I think it is good but there are some places it could be improved - I can't help it, the editor in me whips out the red pen whenever I read things.


I am always interested in what people think of my work. As I am trying serialising for the first time instead of editing it all at once I am especially interested in how it is going.


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## Ratvan (Jun 20, 2011)

I very much like the work and the detail that you have placed into the story so far, I really hope that you expand upon this solid start and look forward to this being a regular subscribed thread


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Hi*

The story does not flow very well, but it does flow well. The sentence structure is set in such a way that it takes more careful attention; to slow down, if you will for me to read it. But the story and detail is such that I would enjoy the whole of the book once it is completed. I love the investigative side that you have presented as well. Keep up the great work and I look forward to reading more.


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## LazyG (Sep 15, 2008)

OK finally with some feedback, sorry it took a while, work crises take up too much time .

I kinda agree with Adrian I guess, I like lots about it but there are some flow/styling issues. I think the opening hook is a good idea but doesn't _quite_ work. It is perhaps a shade too mysterious - I mean we know someone gets cut open and dies and i guess we won't know by whom yet but maybe a few more details to make us relate to him a bit more before you kill him off. The 'shaft mates' sentence just has to go though, it took me 3 readings to work out i wasn't reading the start of 40k porn 

The Venria sections are better, I think you get into character more effectively, but there are a few writing issues. A lot of word repetition (her/she/her/she all through sentences etc) and some long sentences. It is getting there, just needs some polish. There are a few cases where you need to use the most common bit of writing advice I have ever had - show don't tell. Better to show something and let people understand it than tell them it is happening. 

The best bit of writing is the end section in the Chapel of St Vigor. You get the pardoner very vividly very quickly. A really three dimensional character. If you can get the rest to this quality I'd pay for it, plot permitting etc. 

I will PM you as have an edited doc too with more details.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

Useful feedback so far.

I am holding off posting the next part until I complete reviewing the email feedback so I (hopefully) only make new mistakes.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

Based on this feedback and that of non-Heretics I have made a few amendments. As opinions differed strongly about whether the first section would be improved or weakened by more exposition, I have mostly left it as is; although I did edit the second sentence to save LazyG's delicate sensibilities (I draw no conclusion from none of my external readers understanding why it seemed like porn :wink.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

_Slightly later than intended I have finished the next chunk._

______

3/933/825M41 - _Chapel of St Vigor_

Douglass gritted his teeth. "So where is the body now?"

"On a pallet in the vestry. Where else would we have the cleaner place it? Outside the rear entrance with the rubbish, eh?" chortled Cleric Archibrand Lesp.

"Cleaner? You allowed the cleaner to interfere with an active crime scene!" spat Douglass. Part of him knew that shouting at the Ecclesiarchy Liaison would not fix the problem and might even cause more in the long term, but it was a touchy subject.

"Clearly the first priority was to resanctify the chapel so it could be returned to use. You must see that the mere temporal punishment of a recidivist comes second to serving the Divine Emperor?" said Lesp smiling beatifically.

Punishing recidivism is serving the Divine Emperor you pompous bureaucrat seethed Douglass internally. "Can one of my men have permission to go through the Chapel's rubbish?"

"Go through the rubbish?" Lesp quirked an eyebrow, "If you think it will help. But I must insist your man wears gloves and does not remove anything. There have been instances of people stealing church property to sell as false relics."

Gloves, thought Douglass, would anyone choose not to wear gloves when going through waste? At least he was not insisting everyone take confession before they touch anything. Deaths on Ecclesiarchy soil were a jurisdictional nightmare. If he were not almost certain Intelligencer Atella viewed bias as sinful he would think this assignment was punishment. "I can assure you my men will treat everything with the appropriate respect. However, if you have any concerns you are welcome to observe the search."

"No, no. That will not be necessary," replied Lesp quickly.

Smiling inwardly at the image of a portly Cleric Lesp picking carefully through a waste container, Douglass waved his assistants over. "DePre, interview Deacon Boreas. Try to get some answers but remember that we have to treat him with soft gloves. Carlsen, I need you to handle something with soft gloves too, check the rubbish to see if anything helpful survived cleaning. If anyone needs me I will be inspecting the scene in a respectful manner."


* * *​

Douglass' immediate impression of the vestry was how cramped it was. Two wardrobes had been placed against the left wall with a table partially blocking their doors. A pallet was pressed along the right wall leaving a narrow corridor down the centre of the room to the side exit. Sidling past the table he crouched down next to Doctor Hinely to view the body.

A blanket was bundled up at the foot of the pallet. Maybe they covered him out of respect. There was blood covering the victim's tunic but nothing immediately obvious on the pallet or blanket which fitted with him being dead for a while before he was moved here.

"So what can you tell me Doc?"

"He has a jagged wound to the chest just below the ribs. The fingers are missing from his right hand but the stumps are not healed so that could be perimortem. Some of the joints show signs of fracture but the body was supposedly moved so it could be due to that. I will know more once I have the opportunity to carry out a proper autopsy. However, the preliminary cause of death is exsanguination from the chest wound," replied Doctor Hinely, "Any issue with me taking the body now?"

"The body was moved and the scene cleaned before we arrived. The autopsy might provide the only definite evidence we can recover so, the sooner we get that, the sooner we know what to look for in here." Douglass remained crouching, continuing his study of the room until he realised Doctor Hinely was standing silently with one eyebrow quirked. Smiling sheepishly he sidled back out of the room to allow her to pass before turning back with a puzzled look. "Wouldn't it be easier to use that door?"

"Would be, but it's locked and bolted."

"Right." Douglass tapped his comm, "DePre, ask the Deacon to give the side door key to Doc Hinely."

Studying the floor more closely, Douglass noticed scratch marks next to the table. Looked as if they needed move it if they wanted the door fully open. From the small pile of crumbs by the door the cleaner had not been in here, so it was even more likely that the victim bled out somewhere else.


* * *​

"And was it you that reported the incident, Deacon?"

"No. Mr Kara found the body when he came in to set the altar for Matins. There have been thefts so we keep everything locked away you see. I expect that was what happened here. Grish and one of his colleagues came here hoping to steal something and they argued and he was stabbed,” replied Deacon Boreas, turning an empty cup over and over, "He had just called you when I arrived. I came into the Vestry and noticed that the plate locker was still closed so I went through into the chapel before robing. Mr Kara was just standing there holding a comm-unit. I asked him why the altar was not set and he just pointed at the ground. It was then I saw the body."

"And Mr Kara is the Verger?" queried DePre making a note.

"Yes. Lhari Kara. He has been Verger here for years. I asked him what had happened and he said he found the body just lying there. I saw he had his comm-unit out so I asked him if he had called someone. He said he had called you. I know the diocese needed to know straight away so I borrowed his comm-unit and was told to wait for Cleric Lesp. I asked Mr Kara to stand at the main door to stop people coming in but he was babbling so I sent him home to rest. We do not get much gang violence around here so are not used to death by violence."

"Perfectly understandable, Deacon," said DePre smiling, "So you stood there until Cleric Lesp arrived and then he says you helped him reconsecrate the Chapel. Did you recognise the victim straight away or only as you were moving him?"

"Pardon", gulped Boreas.

"You said that you thought Grish and a colleague were intending to steal something. So you recognised the victim."

"Oh... um, yes. I think his first name was Daniel. He came to services sometimes but I think it was more to find victims rather than out of piety. He claimed to be a Pardoner. I sometimes saw him talking to parishioners after services and sometimes something changed hands. That is why I thought he was here to steal. After I called him I just stared at the body. That was when I recognised him. I did not really pay attention to anything else. When Cleric Lesp arrived with a cleaner he reminded me to check to see if anything was missing. The suffrage candelabrum was knocked over and there were candles on the floor but apart from that nothing was damaged or missing. Actually, wait, there were dead coals on the floor by the censer as well."

"So you came into the Chapel via the Vestry and saw Mr Kara. Went over to him, at which point you saw the body. You sent him to the front door to keep people out and stayed with the body until Cleric Lesp arrived. When he arrived you checked the Chapel while the cleaner moved the body and cleaned the floor? And nothing stood out apart from the candelabrum and the ashes?"

"Yes... that is it."

"Thank you Deacon, you have been most helpful. If you remember anything else, even if it seems trivial or irrelevant please contact us."


* * *​

The cleaner had been thorough, thought Douglass, maybe I should take their details in case Intelligencer Atella decided to upgrade to a sterile desk policy. No, that was unfair. He was just mad at Lesp for destroying evidence. A clean desk policy could work well in less intuitive departments. Maybe if he tried a different view he would get a fresh perspective.

He had just started jogging down the side of the Chapel he found himself facing Doc Hinely's eyebrow again at the head of the pallet. Pressing against the wall he watched her guide it past.

"Doc. You forgot the blanket. The Intelligencer wants everything by the regulations and a temporary body covering is supposed to travel with a body."

"Douglass. You might claim that investigation needs randomness because people are random, but I have always followed the regulations. The blanket was not on the body when I arrived so is contents of the scene and not a body covering."

Returning to his plan he entered the now open Vestry door and continued into the Chapel. The pews blocked sight of the aisle and nothing stood out along the side wall. Moving to the front and along to where the body was supposedly found, it continued to stand out. Something did not quite feel right but - without something to give context - he was in danger of focusing on irrelevancies. So interview the Verger, review the autopsy, then look for something that did not fit. Ironically what regulations indicated the senior investigator should do. Well apart from personally carrying out the initial interview of a witness.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

_A slightly longer instalment this time. Do people think that in the region of 1500-2000 is a good length or would longer instalments work better?

All comments welcome as always.
_______

3/934/825M41 - _1009 Frastus Street, Section 4_

Mr Kara was reported to be very traumatised by the incident. Studying the battered but robust front door Douglass decided that image of an efficient servant of justice might produce the quickest results and held his badge at shoulder height before rapping sharply three times with the butt of his maul. After a few seconds the door opened a crack and an eye peered out.

"Oh. Praise Him for sending you." Douglass noticed a quick glance past him but the voice was firm. The door opened another few inches before stopping with a soft thud.

"You will have to sort of sidle in Arbitrator. The papers just keep building up. I keep meaning to tidy up but I never find the time. So much that seems more important, and now I suspect more work at the Chapel and less time. That is... I didn't mean to make it sound inconvenient... finding the body... not that having you visit is either...."

Douglass turned sideways through the door and followed Mr Kara passed tottering stacks of books and paper with practised ease into a small bedroom. Musing that it would probably not achieve the desired effect if he claimed his desk had been set up to provide training for real world situations, he carefully lifted a pile of open books off a chair. Glancing at the top of the stack as he set it on the ground he noted that Mr Kara seemed to be studying the history of Canon Law and, from the other stacks on every surface, a number of other topics.

"Please tell me in your own words what happened this morning," he asked, sitting rigidly on the edge of the chair.

"I went to the Chapel to lay out the altar for Matins just like I always do so those poor souls can feel His Love to carry them through the day. It is them I feel sorry for, denied the opportunity to feel His Love because the Chapel was closed. Not that it isn't a tragedy that some poor soul died. Our imperfections are huge and our efforts trivial but He loves us all equally and I sometimes hope that I am actually helping people work harder by helping Deacon Boreas show them His Sacrifice...."

"So you opened up the Chapel? Did you do that every day?"

"No....I mean yes I did it every day but I didn't open the Chapel. It is never locked, although the altar furniture is kept locked away now after we had some thefts. Poor souls not realising that His Blessing lies in all acts that serve him so the trappings are irrelevant, unless you think they might have wanted them to sell? I do hope no one has fallen from simony to malfeasance for the humble baubles that are our plate. Deacon Boreas says it was just an argument between thieves but it was just so chilling to see him there. Lying against the altar in a pool of blood. One hand stretched out toward the icon of His Divine Majesty as if seeking absolution. All that blood. Even if he was a sinner did he deserve to be cut like that...?" Mr Kara placed his hands over his face and trailed off into silence.

Douglass watched him silently. Either he was too traumatised to have noticed anything or he was hoping not to be asked about something. Just as he began to think that Mr Kara had forgotten he was there, the Verger spoke.

"I noticed I had my comm-unit in my hand, so I reported the crime. I had just finished speaking when Deacon Boreas came out of the vestry. He told me to go to the doors and turn people away. Then another priest arrived and they sent me home."

"So you were outside when the cleaner arrived?"

"No. Sorry, I should have said... I helped the cleaner carry the body into the vestry before I went outside. We put him on the pallet and I tried to arrange him decently. That was when I noticed his fingers were gone."

"If you handled the victim we will need the clothes you were wearing. If I could take them now then it would avoid disturbing you again later," said Douglass, sensing an opportunity. As Mr Kara began to fumble at his buttons, Douglass stood and turned away from him. "Let me give you a little privacy." Keeping a subtle watch on the Verger out of the corner of his eye he allowed his surroundings to sink into his unconscious for later review.

* * *

3/935/825M41 - _Lift Maintenance Station 6AP5, Section 6_

His prey was sure-footed. Despite the oil that had dripped onto the rungs he swung easily down the ladder into the Maintenance Station. For a moment he wondered if there was another way before conquering his doubts; it was obvious that one path would not always line up with another and sometime innocents got hurt. Gliding silently up the ladder he entered the Station and, approaching his seated prey, struck as one fluid movement.

The mechanic's head landed neatly at his feet, the stump cauterised by the powerblade. However he noted with annoyance a tiny trench level with the neck; he had overextended on his swing and the tip of his blade had nicked the wall. Shaking off his anger he dropped the two pieces of the mechanic down the shaft and turned to the locker. With a few quick darts the spare uniform would fit well enough.

The next step could only take place after he had assumed the rhythm of his surroundings. Pulling a roll of parchment from his robe he settled down to wait.

* * *

3/936/825M41 - _Arbites Section House Primus_

Douglass studied the body carefully. No matter how unique people seemed when they were alive on the slab they were all the same. Smaller and somehow empty. He still wondered if his job would be easier if he saw everyone as part of a great endeavour instead of individuals.

"The exact medical description of the victim will be in my written report. However, in simple terms Daniel Grish died of exsanguination. Time of death is between last cycle 932 and second cycle 933. The presence of blood settled in the lower extremities indicates that he bled out with his torso upright and legs horizontal. Two sets of recent wounds are present: a rough puncture or tear entering below the ribs and angling upward which grazed the left lung and shredded the left side of his heart, and a series of incisions at the top of the right palm severing each of the fingers. The puncture to the heart was the fatal wound and would have lead to unconsciousness within seconds followed by death. The blood around the fingers is fresh but not extensive indicating they were severed perimortem but blood pressure was low."

"So after he had mostly bled out?"

"That would be one explanation. However, having his arm held vertically upward could sufficiently reduce the pressure. There is no sign of pressure to the arm or hand so I can state that no effort was made to staunch the wound. Trauma to the joints and ligaments indicates that someone attempted to alter his position from a sitting position to a lying position after rigor had occurred. From the asymmetric damage to the shoulders and elbows his left arm was left as it was at waist level whilst the right arm was moved to approximate the left."

"That matches the body being moved the next morning. Can you tell me anything about the weapon used?"

"The chest wound is ragged around the edges and tore again on the way out so the weapon was sharp enough to cut but not cleanly. The wound is approximately circular with signs that the flesh was torn rather than pierced. I found what seems to be a fragment of bone or tooth embedded in the heart. The wounds to the fingers are clean on the palm and become ragged toward the knuckle. The joints show signs of multiple shallow cuts. Probably done one at a time with the edge of a sharp knife. Overall it seems likely that two weapons were used and that the person who removed the fingers had no experience of amputation."

* * *

3/939/825M41 - _Lift Shaft AP5_

The passenger lift was approaching up the shaft as it had every day. He started count down breaths before leaping up and out into the shaft. All it would take would be a small change in the lift's path and he risked failure, or even a long drop down the shaft with the poor prospect of hitting another lift before he reached the bottom. With almost identical velocities the boots he had stolen from the Maintenance Station gently met the lip of the lift and he stepped silently onto the roof.

Encountering the patches of track that he had oiled earlier the spirit of the lift was already starting to apply the emergency brakes, slowing the ascent. Moving quickly he slipped from brake to brake adding a mixture of grease and grit to ensure they stayed on for the ascent through Section Six. With additional minutes until the lift reached the next transit station secured he moved over to the hatch in the centre of the roof.

The carriage was nearly empty: none of the grab straps and only four of the seats were filled. Two of the occupants looked up as he dropped into the carriage. Keeping his Transit Maintenance logo visible he advanced slowly toward them with his hands raised.

"A routine matter Messires. The lift will reach the next station with little delay."

One of the occupants had returned to his papers before he had finished speaking, so only one man had warning of what the click-hiss that punctuated the words meant; a warning that was too all to brief to save him. His papers sliding to the floor he fell instantly with his throat shredded. The man across the aisle gained scant moments to scream as questing teeth tore his newspaper. The other occupants drawn from their work by the sounds of violence, looked up to see a man in overalls backing from two bloodied bodies with empty hands. As he had planned they quickly turned their attention on the writhing bodies. Leaping, he drew himself out of the carriage and closed the hatch behind him.

After a few minutes the sounds of terror ceased and he lowered himself back into the carriage. Swinging from strap to strap he moved himself around the carriage until he located a pocket of movement. Hooking a foot into the strap he carefully inverted himself before reaching down into the chewed flesh with his left hand. Chitin and teeth rasped ineffectually against the metal of his fingers as he dragged his tool from its meal and forced it into his right palm. Re-inverting himself he moved across the carriage before repeating the process with his other hand.

Departing and resealing the carriage he carefully climbed down the outside of the lift until he could swing from the bottom to the maintenance ladder. Pausing to affix a torn strap to one of the ladder supports he made his way down to the Lift Maintenance Station. Reviewing previous log entries he carefully added a report of an anomaly in the lift timings and updated the log to show the man he had replaced going into the shaft to carry out a visual inspection.

A few careful cuts along the loose darts followed by several minutes of careful teasing with the point of the knife removed any sign that he had worn the overalls. Counting slowly in his head, he stepped out onto the roof of a descending lift before making his tortuous way back to the safe house. The new tools had performed well. However, given the need of specialist deployment and recovery they seemed unsuitable for precision timing or open areas.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

3/940/825M41 - _Transit Station 5AP5, Section 5_

Venria drained the last drops from her recaff and placed the paper cup into the nearest waste bin. Spectators crowded the street; however space quickly opened up as she strode toward the station. Returning the salutes of the arbitrators guarding the entrance she logged herself as present at the scene.

"Arbitrator! I must insist that you move your men out of the way. The lift has been out of operation for in excess of the permitted time." Halting her stride across the platform Venria looked down at the pinch-faced man clutching her sleeve. "If you do not cease your obstruction immediately I will have no choice but to seek recovery of lost revenues from your...” Under her level stare his voice trailed off.

"And you are?"

"Premid Falk. I am supervisor of Shaft AP5."

"And with such focus on running times you no doubt maintain excellent records." Crooking her hand at a nearest arbitrator, Venria stepped free of his grip. "Enforcer Bundette. Escort Messire Falk to his office and obtain copies of the timing of the lift today, over the last few days, and for the last month."

Continuing her stride toward the lift she mentally reviewed the initial report. One of the passengers wanting to enter the lift at this level had reported dead bodies. The on-scene medical examination had confirmed multiple victims displaying blood loss and gross trauma. The Arbitrator on scene had correctly assessed potential ritualistic murder or xenos presence and sent a report to Variant Recidivism. Stopping at the entrance to the carriage she began her own inspection.

The bodies were toward the sides of the carriage and were curled rather than sprawled. Despite the obvious trauma to the bodies and extensive blood spray there did not appear to be recent extensive damage to the seats or the carriage itself. It was almost certainly not the result of an angered machine spirit or accident. The cause of death was either accurate, not very large, or both. A full autopsy would hopefully narrow the options. Extracting her data slate she released the bodies for collection.

The platform was open and a group of citizens would have been standing next to the door when it opened. Even though witness evidence was usually inaccurate she thought it unlikely they would not have noticed a killer leaving, so they were still present or left before the carriage arrived here. Returning to her dataslate she added a query regarding self-inflicted wounds to her standard post-autopsy list.

Venria added her name to the list of persons entering the immediate scene and stepped into the carriage itself. It was even clearer from inside that the bodies were all toward one end of the carriage and, from the blood trails, had moved away from the doors. Instinct would be to attempt to flee out of the door so something overrode that. She added another query to her list to confirm blood signature of each victim and from that hopefully the order of wounding.

* * *​
3/940/825M41 - _Section 7_

Drops of liquid fell onto the road kicking up the sludge. Serin Valon was still amazed that even the most manufactured of structures, the hive city, came to resemble a primitive biosphere if not rigidly controlled by the educated elite. As well as the herd like poor and the predators that preyed on them, their fondness for dirt and lack of maintenance caused mud and rain. And the huts they built on top of each other and over the pavement; how degenerate must they be to live in single rooms? 

Rain started to leak into his collar, distracting him from his surroundings long enough to bump into one of the vendors that were winding their way thorough the packed traffic. Remembering the crude rituals of the tribes on Rathek IV, he glared hard at him. Obviously cowed by his show of dominance the vendor pretended to focus on selling meat to a stationary driver.

As well as blocking the pavement and so driving him into the road, the shanty structures covered signs and had concealed some side streets completely. Even if reading a map had been sensible it would be useless. Trying to keep his spine as straight as possible he continued onward, hoping that the noisy building up ahead was his goal.

The windows were boarded over and someone had replaced the door with a blanket of all things! Pushing it aside, Serin peered through. What light there was failed to overcome clouds of smoke. However, from the loud conversations and sounds of slurping he assumed this was the bar. Gingerly stepping through he paused and tried to spot a waiter. A shove sent him staggering forwards.

"Don't just stop in the door, numb-brain!"

"That's what your wife said when I met her behind the pumping station," chortled a second voice.

"Ain't my problem you're a bit short."

Serin managed to keep his balance as the two pushed past. Watching them collect tankards from the bar he realised that there was not even table service.

* * *​
The tankard seemed to stick to the table making it hard to lift; although, as the beer was chilled and slightly syrupy, he had no real desire to lift it. He hoped that they would make contact soon. Morosely he tried another sip of the beer. It was as odd as the first two times. He still did not understand why the exchange was taking place here; handing over the product in a crowded bar seemed a recipe for attracting the Arbites. And the seller seemed to be late; if they took much longer he might actually have to finish his drink.

Scanning the room for likely sellers he was concerned to note the rude man from earlier approaching his table. His contact said to come alone. The seller might leave if it looked like he was with someone.

"You bottle?" Serin tried to work out what the scrawny figure was asking. Something about a drink possibly? Maybe if he humoured him, him he would go away.

"I have a beer thank you," Serin replied, toasting him before taking another small sip.

"Said, are you bottle?"

Serin realised the man meant Bardel, the false name he had given when he arranged the purchase. Nodding, he waved at an empty seat.

"You wanna slow down. Sinking beer fast can catch up with a man." Serin jumped as he realised the second man was standing behind him. A civilised man would have cleared his throat when he arrived; but then a civilised man would have arranged a better meeting place. Why were they still standing?

"Not to worry," smiled the thin man, "Walk in the rain'll freshen you right up."

They did not seem to know the first thing about blending in, or how to talk to their betters; however it appeared they were smart enough to hold the exchange somewhere else. Serin gratefully abandoned his drink and followed them out.

* * *​
3/940/825M41 - _Chapel of St Vigor_

Something about the crumbs in the vestry continued to trouble Douglass. The initial pictcapts of the scene showed the crumbs were scattered around the table. However he remembered them as being in a line close to the wall. As the cleaner had not worked on the vestry as part of returning it to use, it was possible it was undisturbed since the initial search. They used to keep the Chapel open so, if they were trying to return everything to normal, it would be open now. Beckoning Arbitrator Carlsen forward, he padded toward the main doors.

Easing the doors open he mused that the Ecclesiarchy seemed as prone to rigid protocols as everyone else. Even after theft and murder they had not only left the doors unlocked but ensured they swung freely and silently. Gesturing for Carlsen to move along the right wall he crept into the vestry.

The crumbs were in a line near the wall. Cleric Lesp had not yet asked for the return of the vestry key so Douglass could investigate without someone watching his every move. Picking up a few of the crumbs he scattered them over the floor. The vestry door was as silent as the others. Closing it he was pleased to note that the crumbs were now back in a line. So, the door had not been opened between the crumbs falling and the initial pictcapts of the scene.

Neither of the witnesses had mentioned eating in the vestry. It was possible one of them went in there after the body was discovered and ate something; however most people did not eat just after seeing a bloody killing, and the ones who did were definitely of interest.

What else stood out as unexplained? The pallet had blood flakes on it but the blanket did not, so did they deliberately remove the blanket before putting the body on the pallet? Not likely, as they did not use it to cover the body and the blanket would be easier to clean than the pallet. So, it was bundled at the foot because it was removed for another reason and not put back.

It appeared likely that someone had been staying there on the night of the killing. Probably to guard against thieves. They had a meal then slept on the pallet. When they got up they threw the blanket aside, then had not replaced it; maybe something distracted them. Assuming that was correct, either Deacon Boreas was sleeping in the vestry overnight and lied about coming from his home or Mr Kara was sleeping in the vestry and Deacon Boreas lied about coming in through the vestry. So, either the murderer or a witness. If there were someone in the vestry they would have certainly gone to investigate sounds of a struggle. If they were a witness they would be less likely to lie, so the next step was to see whether or not a member of the chapel staff could emerge from the vestry and kill Grist.

"Carlsen, could you check Grist's route again."

"We don't know his route."

"Well, we think he came in looking for items to steal. He had ash on his coat so he went to at least one of the censers. Start by coming in the front doors then look for things you could sneak out if you were on your own. And remember Carlsen we need to treat the Chapel with respect so try not to make a racket." Now for the hard part thought Douglass, swinging the vestry door shut and sitting beside the pallet.

Douglass listened. Was that the sound of boots? Possibly a clank of metal. He stood and tried to move quietly into the Chapel. With the door open the sound of movement was clearer and he could make out Carlsen's lumen-pack moving in the darkness. The flicker of candles cast a pool directly ahead so he crept between the altar and the reliquary. Curiously there was a new lock on the reliquary. Why would they replace it if Grish did not get this far? Possibly a previous failed theft? Noticing Carlsen's light moving closer he abandoned his inspection and slipped around a pillar on the far side. Carlsen seemed to be approaching the donation box for the candles.

"Find anything unusual?" said Douglass from just beside him. Carlsen jerked away and crashed into the candelabrum, sending both it and him to the ground. Looking down at a scene similar to the beginning of Grish's struggle, Douglass concluded someone could easily have moved from the vestry to attack Grish here. Someone familiar with the Chapel would probably have been able to do it more easily than he had recreated. "My apologies if I startled you."

"Not at all sir," replied Carlsen. "The censer by the door would have placed him on the left, from there I could see the candelabrum had a donation box, so I came toward it checking the wall and pews as I went. I feel Grish would have done the same, but nothing stands out to confirm or deny."

"You are probably right. Do not let the Intelligencer catch you having unsubstantiated feelings,” said Douglass, helping him up. "Now bring your lumen behind the altar so we can check one of my feelings."

With Carlsen providing light, he had both hands free to use his dataslate. The pictcapt over the altar confirmed that the reliquary lock was different when the scene was first processed. So why the new lock? The reliquary was small enough to carry so a thief would be unlikely to break the lock on site. Studying the new lock again, something tweaked the corner of his vision. Asking Carlsen to hold the lumen-pack closer he peered through the fretted metal.

Pieces began to fit together. The thighbone of St Vigor... but not the whole bone… one end was broken from where his leg had been cleft leaving a roughly circular, not very sharp, mass of splintered bone… splinters that might be brown due to more than age.

"Time to go Carlsen. This just became more complex."


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

3/941/825M41 - _Section 7_

A blood-red tentacle burst from the carcass. A ring of hooks surrounded a gaping maw. Bristles, matted with body fluids, covered a pulsing body. Lacking eyes, nose, or any visible sense organ it was unclear how it knew its surroundings and yet it span to face the audience, revealing a throat lined with rings of teeth. Seeing it lashing forward Serin leaped back.

"Feisty rutter ain't he," joked the larger of his companions. A smear marked the plexiglass where it had been brought short.

"I was informed the product would be discretely packaged. You cannot expect me to carry a large glass tank full of rotten meat up two entire Sections!"

"You could put a bit o' lace around the edge, maybe a velvet hat on it. Anyone asks it’s your cousin from uphive a bit the worse for drink. The way you uphivers pack it away everyone will believe it" Serin drew in a deep breath. If these persons wanted to joke around they would get the edge of his tongue. "Or we could use these tongs to transfer the product to these cans we got ready earlier."

No wonder these people were involved in crime, he thought, no decent man would put up with their lack of decorum.

* * *​
3/941/825M41 - _152 Hunter Street, Section 5_

Serin collapsed into a chair. Following those two prattling fools to their hovel had used up enough time but then they had the audacity to wish him a safe journey and wander off in different directions. It had taken him hours to get back to civilisation. What he wanted now was to go to sleep. However, the men were obvious incompetents, so the worms would probably escape if left overnight and he would have to waste half a day hunting them down.

Reminding himself how impressed his backers would be when he presented his report, he forced himself to stand and go into the study.

* * *​
3/942/825M41 - _Arbites Section House Primus_

The medical reports indicated that each of the victims had died from heart failure caused by a combination of blood loss and gross physical trauma. The wound paths were consistent with something tearing or chewing into the chest cavity. The wounds would have been next to impossible to inflict on themselves. The description was similar to Arbitrator Fisger's description of the victim from the Chapel. Making a note to cross-reference the cases, Venria picked up her recaff and moved on to the blood signatures.

Pictcapts extracted from the surveillance at Station 6AP5 indicated there were four people sitting in the carriage when it left the station. Two victims were found in the approximately the same place as they were on the pictcapts and had died without leaving a long trail of blood, so probably died next to their seats. The other two had been seated behind them, toward the rear wall. They had spatter from the first two on their clothing and their blood had fallen over existing spatter so definitely died second. However, they had left footprints through the first victims' blood leading toward the back of the carriage, which was overlaid with their own blood toward the rear. Therefore they had moved from their seats after leaving the station then run back past mortally wounded men, toward a blank wall, suffering injuries as they ran back.

People were creatures of routine so moving seats was unusual; therefore it was probably connected to the murders. If the attacker were standing over the first victims then, if they were already forward they would not move past him to the rear of the carriage; if they were not forward they would not have moved up to the bodies then away to walk through the blood. So if she assumed they were in their seats until something happened what caused them to move? Maybe they ran toward the doors first and could not get out because the lift was between floors then something made them run back. If the attacker were standing at the front end of the carriage they would have tried to hide or move to the rear instead of running to the door. The movements neither made sense if the attacker was next to the first victims nor if they were standing at the front of the carriage. It only made sense if they did not know exactly where the attacker was.

Studying the pictcapts of the rest of the carriage she noted that the maintenance hatch was at the front of the carriage. So the maintenance hatch opens and the first two victims are attacked. The second two only notice the attack after it starts, and run toward the door. The door is sealed. Then they remember the sound of the hatch and, thinking it is a shooting, run away from the hatch and back through the blood. Whatever is attacking the first two attacks them as they pass.

No matter how she pictured their movements, the time between floors was too short. Finishing her recaff, she started to review Arbitrator Bundette's report on lift cycles.

* * *​
Douglass heard the sound of a mug being filled, followed by a second. Intelligencer Atella was about to come over to his desk and, as always, was pouring him a mug of recaff as well. However noticing the pattern did not help in determining if it was done as a social gesture or to avoid the loss of productive time caused by him fetching his own before their consultation could start. Counting to seven his head he reached up for the mug then looked up at his superior.

"There are similarities between the death of Grist and the deaths in Lift 3AP5. However the high probability of organic tearing weapons in both cases is the only overt congruence I have detected. I note the last action on your file log was a visit to the Chapel yesterday. Did it provide any additional data?"

"I have the report here." Douglass continued talking as his superior scanned the document. "I was in the process compiling a request to have the relic tested."

"You have not attached a copy of the notification of your search to the Ecclesiarchy Liaison Office."

“I asked Cleric Lesp whether he wished to present during the inspection of the scene when I initially took custody; he was obviously a busy man and declined. As this was a continuation of the search it would not be protocol to ask him again. I did ensure Carlsen wore fresh gloves.”

"An exemplary logical chain.” Did her lip twitch up when she said that? She approved of sidestepping Lesp? No, she must have meant the analysis of the crumbs, thought Douglass. “However, we should not rest our case on study of the relic. It might not be available."

"Indeed not. Another potentially interesting fact is Mr Kara's most recent research. When I interviewed him he had books on Canon Law that showed signs on having suddenly been taken down from the shelf. Based on my notes taken immediately after the interview I determined the relevant pages were a discourse on purging sin by excision of the sinful body part. For example, a man who kicked a priest might have his foot cut off...."

"...And a man who tried to steal a relic might have his fingers cut off," finished Venria leaning forward. Whatever else she might be, she had a fine mind.

"Ignoring the brutality of the deaths, the Lift case displays a similar notable untidiness, although it helps the recidivist instead of revealing them," continued Venria.

Douglass was certain that her mouth twitched again. He began to wonder if there was a sense of humour behind the mask. Maybe her rigorous adherence to protocol was a choice and not just a lack of imagination. "Based on the pooling of the blood before the victim moved through it there would not normally have been time for the killer to enter, kill all of them, and exit between floors. However, the lift was delayed at the time of the killings. A Mechanicus inspection of the shaft under Arbites supervision revealed that dirt had built up, causing the machine spirit to grip the tracks too tightly."

"So the killer was lucky and picked the only moment when no-one would interrupt him?"

"Possibly. Arik Vorin, the technomat stationed in Maintenance Station 6AP5 noticed the anomaly and logged he was entering the shaft. This fitted a pattern of correcting deviance with commendable efficiency. The Mechanicus found the remains of a harness attached to the shaft next to some grease. Maybe he fell or he maybe he saw something and was removed; either way if we find him he will almost certainly not be able to tell us anything."

"Or he is the killer. A technomat with a good record of correcting errors would have the ability to cause one. Either way I agree that the evidence does not feel like there is a link." Seeing her face harden, Douglass realised his mistake. He sipped his recaff before quickly covering the slip. "However, entering a cross reference in the file will ensure that investigations actively consider a common factor. In the event our theory regarding Grist is true we will have greater political as well as actual authority to aggressively investigate links."


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## VulkansNodosaurus (Dec 3, 2010)

Definitely interesting; the one issue I have is that you have a very dense writing style, especially towards the beginning, which makes it hard to figure out what's going on. Other than that, it's very well-written and looks to be heading somewhere interesting.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

Thank you.



VulkansNodosaurus said:


> the one issue I have is that you have a very dense writing style, especially towards the beginning, which makes it hard to figure out what's going on.


As well as the lighter style of GW books I enjoy reading a wide range of other styles, so this is partially an experiment in writing in the GW-verse using a different style.


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

having read others of your work i can see where you are going with the writing style, i stand by my original comment i would buy this. i am thouraghly enjoying the tale and i think personally there is a noir feel to it, i could be wrong.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

gothik said:


> having read others of your work i can see where you are going with the writing style, i stand by my original comment i would buy this. i am thouraghly enjoying the tale and i think personally there is a noir feel to it, i could be wrong.


Thank you.

I do like pulp noir, so a 40K detective story is likely to have some grim-noir. However I am trying to save the most purple facets of noir for comedy: _"I woke in an alleyway with a lump on my head the size of an ogryn's knuckle. My wallet was as empty as an Eldar promise and it was only second-day."_

I am currently blocked on the next section; I have the immediate follow on and know where I want to go but my attempt to be true to the paranoia of 40K either seem over-the-top or break the pacing by spending tool on on build-up. So there will either be another part tomorrow or next week depending on whether my current redraft finds the balance.


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

Dave T Hobbit said:


> Thank you.
> 
> I do like pulp noir, so a 40K detective story is likely to have some grim-noir. However I am trying to save the most purple facets of noir for comedy: _"I woke in an alleyway with a lump on my head the size of an ogryn's knuckle. My wallet was as empty as an Eldar promise and it was only second-day."_
> 
> I am currently blocked on the next section; I have the immediate follow on and know where I want to go but my attempt to be true to the paranoia of 40K either seem over-the-top or break the pacing by spending tool on on build-up. So there will either be another part tomorrow or next week depending on whether my current redraft finds the balance.


i think this is why Renegades is taking so long with me, i have surprised my self at its popularity but also when i come to road bump i park up and leave it till i can see the right way to go. i think that is also why i enjoy reading this, you wait till you are happy and only then post it. Good luck with the next bit and i am looking foward to it


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

gothik said:


> ...you wait till you are happy and only then post it.


_
I would not say I wait until I am happy; my actual approach is closer to making smaller and smaller tweaks until my shame at not posting overcomes my belief it is not as good as it could be. :scratchhead:

Herewith the next part._ 

____


3/942/825M41 - _1009 Frastus Street_

Arbitrator Carlsen hammered on the door. Not only was Mr Kara not responding but also no one from surrounding properties emerged to investigate the loud banging either. Turning to face the street he was unsurprised to see that foot traffic was hurrying past without looking his way. The uniform had done it again. Intelligencer Sorih had kept the unit in plain clothes to avoid this situation; however regulations required the wearing of a uniform when not on covert duties.

*Chudd-d-d-d* 

The loud noise drew his attention up just in time for a jet of hot air to blast his face. The spirit of the air circulator was not who he wanted to attract. Running his finger around his collar he returned to hammering on the door.

"He's not home," whispered a voice from behind him. Carlsen looked round, then down. A young girl smiled solemnly up at him, before replacing a sweet in her mouth.

"You know Mr Kara"

"He's a nice man," she lisped, "He gives me sweets and we play a game."

Perfect, he thought, the only person who does not mind attracting my attention is a child. Well at least it was better than searching through his waste bins for clues to where he was. Now, remember what you did when you babysat for Borif and then do the opposite. Carlsen crouched down. "He gives you sweets? Does he give you sweets every day?"

"No, only sometimes when he sees me."

"And how often to you see him?"

"We see him everyday. Georg says he looks like a funny man and I used to think he looked like a funny man but he is really a nice man and if I play the game really well he gives me a whole bag of sweets"

"So have you seen him today?"

"No silly, he isn't at home!"

"When did you last see him?"

"I was playing bounce with Georg, and then the ball rolled down the street because I'm good at Bounce but Georg can't always do it right and then Mr Kara was there, and then the ball rolled into Mr Tevik's doorway... so I went to ask Mr Kara to get it but he looked sad and then Mr Tevik threw the ball out and shouted a bad word so we stopped playing and went home."

Do children always talk like this? When did she breathe? "And when was this?"

"It was ages ago."

This was getting nowhere. Possibly her playmate would remember better. "Do you think Georg would remember which day it was?"

"Georg isn't allowed to talk to strangers."

"It is very important that I speak to Mr Kara. I am sure Georg would be allowed to talk to an Arbitrator."

The lights flickered. Now the air circulator seemed to be making up for the blast with an icy chill. Carlsen tried to stay smiling as the girl tilted her head and stared into space. If they played together surely she knew where Georg lived.

"Georg says he doesn't remember but I think he is pretending. Georg doesn't like Mr Kara because he is a funny man and he does not want to play with Georg but he plays with me because I can dance well."

Carlsen slowly stood, keeping his eyes firmly on the child. Talking to people who are not there. Did she go unnaturally long without pausing for breath? Was it just a distressed air circulator or something more dangerous? He carefully activated his comm-unit. "Carlsen, priority message. I am on Fraastus Street. Female child, aged between five and nine, displaying possible indicators of telepathy or possession. Request tactical support."

"Message acknowledged. Dispatching units to your location."

Carlsen felt a drop of sweat make its way down his forehead. At least the desire for residents and passers-by to stay away from him would reduce casualties if she started becoming hostile or lost control. He decided that searching through waste bins no longer seemed such a bad duty. 

* * *​
"She has an imaginary friend," sobbed Mrs Ferek. "She is perfectly normal."

Douglass half listened to Carlsen interviewing the child's mother. Her story was probably true; children did like to imagine things. Also six was young to suddenly manifest psychic power and if she had it from birth she would almost certainly have lost control the first time she got angry. Unfortunately for young Tolla and her parents the risk was too great not to investigate thoroughly. Looking around at the two armoured transports and the riot unit sealing the street he decided that of course, even if Tolla were not a psyker and survived testing she would not be able to return as her neighbours would already have made up their mind she was a threat.

Which presented an interesting opportunity. In his experience upstanding citizens found it almost impossible not to watch their neighbours being in trouble. If Mr Kara were in the property then he would have peered out of a window or the door at least once by now; even if he were asleep the sound of the transports arriving would have woken him up. So, maybe he was not home or maybe he was unable to get to a window. 

A potential unregistered psyker found living in the same street as a witness to a brutal, possibly ritual, murder; a witness who could not now be found. It was almost a duty to make sure Mr Kara was not lying unconscious in his house. Drawing his sidearm he carefully took aim at the lock. 

"Fisger to Control. Potential injured party at location. Gaining forcible entry to 1009 Frastus Street."

The door swung open a few inches before striking a stack of paper. A room-by-room search revealed further piles of work, clothes, and crockery. Squeezing between the piles, Douglass concluded that Mr Kara had not moved out. However there were dust free patches where the books on Canon law had been and no writing implements on the desk so something had happened. If they were lucky, DePre would find him at the Chapel.

* * *​
3/942/825M41 - _Bathroom of the Octavian Restaurant_

The tap was dripping again. Sometimes it dripped until someone used it again and sometimes it dripped once and stopped. He wondered if he should be taking note of who had used it in each instance. However focussing on the prey was more important; if the others were significant then they would turn up again. Tensing and releasing each of his muscles in turn he loosened his body before checking his position on the joist. Satisfied he was perfectly balanced and had a clean drop into the bathroom he reviewed the details of his prey.

As the hours passed he considered his plan for errors: this was Mallia Kaltos' favourite restaurant and she came here almost every week; it was likely that she would come in here at least once during her meal; the restaurant was small so the bathroom was usually only used by one person at a time. He was aware that many of the others would not countenance this level of chance and would aim for something more elegant; however, more and more he favoured a direct approach.

He had returned to watching the dripping of the tap when Mallia finally entered the bathroom. Another patron was in a one of the cubicles, so at first it seemed that she would live. However, the bystander left almost immediately after her entry, without even pausing to wash his hands, a clear sign the plan should continue. Considering the possible import of the near witness, he decided to alter his plan slightly; his new tool might take time or leave traces. Hooking one leg against the joist he rolled sideways, dislodging a ceiling panel and swinging toward Mallia's head. Noise or a shift in the light must have alerted her as she began to turn. Unfortunately for her it was too late as his knife slid into the nape of her neck, neatly severing her spine and leaving her paralysed. Catching her body with his other arm before she began to fall, he slowly drew them up into the ceiling void.

Having carefully balanced her body on the joist he lent across and snapped a wire, blacking out the light over the basins. If a patron reported the light in the next few minutes and the restaurant sent someone to investigate straight away then Mallia might receive medical attention in time, if not it was her time.

Dropping back into the bathroom he replaced the ceiling panel and walked into the restaurant. Selecting an empty table at random he sat and considered the menu.

* * *​
3/943/825M41 - _Arbites Section House Primus_

"So the new verger..." Douglass paused.

"...Anathedias Palk..." replied DePre

"...Told you that Mr Kara has left, that Deacon Boreas was unavailable, and that he was instructed to direct queries to the diocese."

"Yes, sir. I attempted to gain entry to the building to visually check the relic as you requested. However, Mr Palk refused to move aside. I indicated he was required to permit me access to a crime scene, whereupon he said he would need to call Cleric Lesp and closed the door in my face."

"Nothing else you could have done without solid evidence. Control said Cleric Lesp has asked to see me this morning, so possibly we can extract some details from him... and here he is now." Judging from his crumpled and slightly stained robe he dressed in a hurry and eaten breakfast on the way here, thought Douglass. "Good morning sir. This is a most helpful coincidence. I was going to call your office later today."

"I was in the area so I thought it would see how the Vigor case is going. Glad to help, eh," replied Lesp. Not only rushing over here but also trying to be polite. This could be more than just a jurisdictional clash. "So, I understand you wanted to carry out another inspection of the Chapel."

"Yes sir. There seems to have been a slight confusion with the new verger... where is Mr Kara by the way?"

"Cannot speak to him... that is to say, he was overcome by the stress of it all so has gone to a spiritual retreat. Not sure when he will be back."

Gone on a retreat? Or hidden away to stop questions? Whatever Intelligencer Atella said about respecting jurisdictional boundaries, Douglass was not prepared to let them smooth evidence away. "Good to see you pay such a close attention to the welfare of your subordinates. I really wanted to ask about the running of the Chapel. If Mr Kara is not available, no doubt Deacon Boreas will be happy to assist."

"Deacon Boreas has been called to give evidence before an ecumenical council," replied Lesp, wiping his brow, "If you put your questions in writing then I will make sure he responds as soon as he has time."

"That might not be as useful as a personal interview. Maybe I could go there and meet with him when he is not before the council."

"Um... I would like to help; however, councils are closed sessions so nothing I can do about that, eh. Something I can do though. I can have Mr Palk copy the latest schedules and accounts to have them ready for this afternoon. You can collect them at the same time as your inspection of the Chapel."

"That would be most helpful." Almost too helpful. Without an idea of what was troubling Lesp, he could not push without risking overstepping. "Thank you for your assistance. I will have a list of questions for Deacon Boreas sent over. Arbitrator Carlsen can escort you out."

Douglass looked over the file again. Without knowing who was in the Chapel that night, compiling the list of questions was going nowhere, and nothing new leapt out. Both of the chapel staff were placed out of reach and he was allowing an inspection, so why was Lesp nervous? And why did he rush here? He could have dealt with all of this by comm-unit, or at his office. There was no benefit in having Douglass wait for him here, unless....

Frantically opening a new search on his cogitator he looked over the Ecclesiarchy public schedule for the day. There it was... Chapel of St Vigor... 0800 Processional of the Thigh Bone of St Vigor to the Port. The relic had left the planet as well. Cleric Lesp was worried that Douglass would go to the Chapel before the relic left; however, holding the meeting here reduced the chance he would go at cycle-start and then arranging the inspection this afternoon....

Douglass thumped his desk.


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