Towards the end of the conversation with Maya, Mordecai rubs his ear, as casually as he can. If Maya notices what he’s up to – selecting the Seneschal’s comm code – she says nothing. Midian is not in line of sight at the time.
Midian has turned off surveillance to the room with Xanatov’s control.
May: “We hold a knife to each other’s throat, you and I. But I believe I have a better chance of talking my way out of my situation. What do you say, Mordecai? Do we have a deal?”
Mordecai ponders.
Mor: “I think not.” [He breaks transmission]
Mordecai taps his ear-piece, instantly connecting him to the Seneschal:
Sen: “Wh… How did you get this comm frequency?!”
Mor: “That is of no importance right now,” Mordecai answers sternly, “All that matters is that you listen and understand. The women I escorted to you a few hours ago are assassins employed by Midian Astis-Kyn of House of Harrow. They are tasked with executing your master before the day is out.”
Shock and anger spread across the Seneschal’s features.
Sen: “You- you realise this is an act of treason! Your execution shall be long and slow! I shall make sure of it!”
Mor: “You waste time with idle threats. It would serve no purpose for me to be lying to you. Go, search the room, the evidence is there. And as for your retribution...”
Mordecai wheels the unconscious Amael into camera shot.
Mor: “You know where to find me...”
With that, Mordecai ends the transmission.
Maya contacts the Administratum offices directly, not the Seneschal. She talks of procedures and codes so quickly that, to Midian’s untrained ears, it comes across as babble, but he catches a few details…
May: “Alarum, adepts! An unsanctioned psyker – a mind-thief - has infiltrated the inner sanctum of the order! He assaults the chamber of the Amael herself-” [transmission breaks at source]
She then contacts Grigor Orlak:
May: “The off-worlder, ‘Mordecai’ is a traitor to the revolution. He intends to kill you and replace you with Hala Chen, his pet. He is a telepath and should be killed on sight.”
While Maya makes her calls, ‘Midian-atov’ drags Xanatov off the bed. He smashes one of the wine flutes and carefully drags the broken stem across part of Xanatov’s fleshy chest. Blood wells through the torn skin.
Xanatov himself stirs not at all - as well sedated as one on the surgeon’s slab.
Midian then uses the pillows in the bed to make a rough human outline, at least through the silk hangings of the bed’s canopy.
Close to his prediction, the reassuring gold indicator by the heavy door goes red. Immediately after, Mordecai hears the device’s spirit re-check the integrity of the door’s seven security bolts.
Moments later (a full 2 seconds longer than he actually needed) the door hisses open and eight sets of heavy boots hustle into the room. One of the bodyguards goes over to the Amael, slinging his las-rifle to check her condition. The second grasps Mordecai’s wrist and applies binder-cuffs. A third picks up and examines the fine mono-sword he has placed on the Amael’s desk. The same guard who cuffed him searches Mordecai for further weapons (finding none), while two others search the room for explosive devices (though as he didn’t set off any alarms when you passed through the entrance hall, it is only a cursory search (all according to protocol)).
Sgt: “Take him away. Maximum security block. I’ll alert Interrogator Sithis.”
And he is marched away. Though they’re rough, the beating he’d expected never occurs.
Outside the Administratum building the Amael’s guards hand Mordecai over to regular enforcers, the Sergeant signing over custody with a DNA fingerprint. Throughout his time with the Amael’s bodyguard, brief as it was, Mordecai sensed not brutish anger, but cool professionalism. Now in the custody of the enforcers, that changes. He is thrown bodily into the back of a wheeled enforcer wagon. His wrists bound behind him, Mordecai is unable to catch himself, and his face slams against the metal grate of the vehicle’s floor.
With his keen hearing, Mordecai overhears the Sergeant confer with his enforcer counterpart by the vehicle parked behind:
Sgt: “Adept Andreev will accompany you. The anarchist’s possessions are… of interest to the Administratum.”
Enf: “I don’t understand-”
Sgt: “And I don’t want any, ‘evidence’ to go missing.”
If the exchange continues he do not hear it, as the armoured doors slam shut. He is accompanied by three enforcers in the back (Lasguns and pistols, batons, non-military Flak vests and helmets). The other two get in the front. From the sound of it, the other vehicle is following (presumably with the rest of the squad, the Adept and her personal effects).
Mordecai reaches into the mind of the enforcer sergeant. The man resents the implication that he or his men would steal evidence, even if a few gems missing out of an uncounted batch would probably not be missed. The Amael’s bodyguard was right, but the enforcer resents it all the same.
At this point, there is a banging on the door and someone shouts;
Grd: “Governor! Are you okay? We’ve word of an assassination attempt!”
His tone tells Midian that he will not be dissuaded from gaining access.
Mid: “Enter!”
Ten of Xanatov’s personal guard stand beyond the door, weapons ready. With them is a combat squad (5) of troops trained by the fearsome Col. Harakeen Bokor (r.i.p.), cameoline cloaks shifting.
Xanatov pulls his robes over his swollen naked form, oblivious to the regard of the bodyguards. They do not flinch.
Maya is naked by the bed, edging away from the ‘corpse’ under the bed covers (she looks like she is afraid (specifically of ‘Xanatov’) but is trying (poorly) to conceal it).
Grd: “Lord, I have word from the Seneschal’s office that an attempt is going to be made on your life!”
Outside as a corridor of gilt-panels, decorative to the point of opulence. Pedestals with busts of Xanatov’s illustrious family line the walls. The guards look ready for action, but their bodylanguage shows that ‘Xanatov’ isn't their target.
The bodyguard pushes past Xanatov, placing himself between the Governor and Maya, weapon trained on the alleged assassin.
Sobbing, Maya stumbles towards them, arms high, fingers spread – naked, it seems obvious that she can conceal no weaponry.
May: “I- I'm not and assassin, I swear! I'm just- I'll do whatever you want – just please don't kill me like you did her!”
Grd: “The Seneschal has issued an arrest warrant for the coward ‘Midian Astis-Kyn’ and the assassins that were delivered into your hands earlier. Protocol demands that we secure your safety immediately.”
Mid: “Very well, search her for weapons, return her to me afterward.”
Maya cradles her head as she is slammed against the wall. The impact causes her knees buckle slightly and provokes more intense sobbing.
The bodyguard gives her a dangerous look and she closes her mouth, visibly trying to suppress her fear. He takes a bulky tech-scanner from his pack and runs it over her, punching grimy, rune-engraved keys and turning a chunky analogue dial on the side.
Grd: “My lord, she carries no weapons and I can’t find any trace of bionic implants… But I’m no cog-boy - the Adeptus Mechanicus should look her over.”
Whimpering, Maya tries to cover herself. She looks up at Xanatov, shaking - to the men, it seems that the ‘concubine’ is bringing her womanish emotions under control.
May: “I- If this is what my master wants.”
While this is occurring, three more of the bodyguards enter. Their guns sweep the room, not just the silk-curtained area where Xanatov’s bloody, but still-very-much-living body lies.
Grd: “Lord, what happened to the other one. Did she try something?”
Mid: “Don’t be ridiculous. She merely… disappointed me.”
Xanatov’s voice betrays his growing impatience, as well as the level of credulity he grants to this ‘assassination’ plot.
His men shift uneasily, trapped between duty and their master’s dis-pleasure. After a moment’s hesitation, the three searchers continue their careful sweep.
Mid: “My Seneschal really believes these toys could kill me?”
Grd: “There was an assault against the Amael. Her attacker surrendered, but only after informing the Seneschal of his part in the plot to kill you.”
Mid: “Her attacker informed us? No, this is making less and less sense.”
As the searchers stray ever closer to Xanatov’s unconscious body, ‘Xanatov’ points a stubby finger at the cameoline cloaked soldiers.
Mid: “You, take your men and personally secure the safety of my seneschal. Bodyguard, wait outside – I must talk to him myself.”
Grd: “My lord, protocol demands-”
Mid: “To hell with protocol. We are being manipulated. Outside, now. Leave the girl to me.”
The wagon speeds through a series of streets and ramp-ways, spiralling clockwise, ever downwards. Left on the floor, he’s thrown about, his head cracking against the interior with every over-enthusiastic turn. At first the mood of the enforcers is blasé – though Mordecai’s a criminal who has assaulted the second most prestigious person on the planet, he’s well and truly caught, and they’ll get none of the credit for it. They should be on their guard. They should be professional. Instead their moods range from bored to distracted.
The wagon skids to a halt and one of the enforcers puts his hand to his ear. Whatever he hears causes him to curse, bitterly – the other two shake their heads. Whatever it is, is an inconvenience.
Once again, Mordecai reaches into his mind. The man is annoyed because there was some kind of civil disturbance ahead, forcing them to detour. The implications of the disturbance being significant enough to force a detour haven’t occurred to him.
Everyone feels trapped and are a little fatalistic about it. If they desert, they’ll be shot - if not by their superiors then probably by an angry mob. If they stay then they’ll still have to fight... and given the lengths the protagonists went to fracture their confidence, they’re not at all sure they’ll win. Instead they try to convince themselves that the whole situation is going to blow over - that the ringleaders will be scooped up by Xanatov’s agents and the rebellion quelled with a neat little ‘decapitation strike’. Mordecai, it seems, isn’t their most pressing concern.
The wagon backs up a dozen yards and turns, for the first time, to the left. Down another landing, an unknown distance from the stop-point, it returns to its clockwise spiral downwards.
Maya dresses in ‘Midi-anna’s dress and gets out of the way of the Hololithic camera while ‘Xanatov’ contacts his seneschal.
The seneschal confirms much of what his bodyguards have told him (adding that there is an unconfirmed report that he’s telepathic). He adds that rioting has broken out and that it looks like they’ve lost the whole of Tier 1. Xanatov thinks it over and tells seneschal to have the telepathic assailant executed.
The seneschal begins to complain, siting the need to question him, but Xanatov tells the man that the rioting is a bigger threat – one that they can’t be distracted from by the actions of a rogue psyker.
The seneschal checks with the governor’s agents and finds that they’ve lost contact with the vehicles transporting the alleged psyker to the secure facility. Xanatov orders Landspeeders to intercept them inside the city (they fail, crash and burn). The facility staff are informed that the prisoner is to be executed upon arrival. PDF troopers are sent to support.
Xanatov does slip up. He calls Mordecai by name, though the Seneschal never mentions his name.
Finally, he asks for plans and troop deployment data. When the Seneschal tells him he really should be at command to review this data, Xanatov’s patience ends, demanding to know why his minion keeps second-guessing a planetary Governor.
Maya, dressed as Anna, cut-up pillowcase disguising her face, executes the real Xanatov while Midian records on the Hololith.
‘Xanatov’ leaves with his men, but Maya has the security codes for the door from the control on Midian’s arm.
Again the roller skids to a halt, but this time the enforcers start readying their gear. A few seconds later, there is a chime and the indicator on the door lock turns gold. The door slides open and he see the other half-squad of enforcers behind. Further away stands a nervous looking Adept, clutching the case that Mordecai took from the Navigator as if it were a lifejacket.
The area is otherwise deserted. Two autocannon turrets point down each of the two roadways into the area. Two enforcers grasp his arms and march Mordecai towards the maximum security prison.
The wall opposite the keep-like “Hall of Repentance” is dominated by a large public viewer.
At command, Xanatov tries to execute a poor defence but is hampered by lack of Tactical experience – he can’t do anything too obvious or he’ll be exposed.
Maya leaves to pick up some gear (including the witch’s eyes). She successfully disguises herself as a palace servant, but is caught sneaking where she shouldn’t and is almost blown in half by a PDF squad.
She gives Grigor as much Intel on the government forces as she is able.
A member of the Ministorum reads a public proclamation:
“Attention loyal citizens of Vinh. Curfew is in immediate effect. Those not secured within the domicile indicated in their M41.815 census data face official reprimand. Those in public areas will be immediately incremented to ‘hooligan’ status and thus be subject to summary justice.
“Our thought for the day is, ‘The reward for treachery is retribution.’”
Mordecai reaches out with his mind and tears the broken strongbox from Adept Andreev’s grasp. Andreev looks horrified, understanding exactly what has just happened.
The contents – Midian’s jewels – spills across the floor, and four of the near-mutinous Enforcers start scrabbling around to pick them up.
And: “You fools! Why hasn’t the psyker been sedated!?”
Mordecai wastes no time, reaching into the Sergeant’s mind, trying to Compel him into firing upon these greedy sons of whores… but the Sergeant’s will is far too strong.
Shrugging off the psychic attack, the Sergeant gives Mordecai three-rounds-rapid.
As the turrets come online, Mordecai retreats back into the enforcer wagon and begins to systematically crush the internal organs of the men before him – starting with the Sergeant. Utilizing the first discipline he’d learned proves a benefit and one by one the enforcers drop or flee.
It cannot last, however, and soon the return fire begins to penetrate his telekinetic shields. When a large portion of his leg is burned out from under him, it seems his number is up. The next volley takes him in the chest, burning out a lung.
The body is taken into the Halls.
Midian faces… a lesser challenge. His commanding presence has washed away all doubt in Xanatov’s men as to who is in charge. Tier after tier falls, but the ‘Governor’ is the epitome of stoic resolve. This is his world, he will not be removed from it.
Mordecai senses the same presence he felt in Anya Qi’s shack. Around him is the black, swirling darkness. It tells him it is pleased by his progress, happy at the despair and suffering he has led people to – all those people who believed his lies and are now dying in the violence of the revolution, each knowing exactly how little their lives were worth. It claims it will take Hala Chen next unless… ‘M.D.C.I.’? Chooses to serve him.
Hala Chen means less to him than the daemon suspects. But he is in terrible pain, dead or dying.
Around him the flow of the warp is changing… building, growing stronger. It must be the ritual – it was building to its conclusion… In his current condition there was nothing he could do about it either way.
Mor: “Yes.”
The pain doubles but Mordecai regains consciousness. The leather straps on his wrists age and turn to powder. The lock on the door rusts and breaks, the door itself swinging free. Mordecai looks at himself in the mirror. He has suffered horrific burns and holes have been seared all the way through his torso.
It would be enough to drive a man insane, seeing what has become of him. But instead there is a strange calm to him. He is a monster. But a powerful monster.
He walks out into the prison finding the staff in the middle of an evacuation. Only two of the guards who see him have presence of mind enough to start shooting. But although their shots strike him, further burning his flesh, they do not slow him overly. Reaching out with enhanced telekinetic might, he crushes the life away. Unfortunately, the power flowing through him is enough to force a warp-breach and dark tendrils of smoke pour through. Where they touch flesh, the skin blisters and ruptures, leaving weeping wounds in the dying. Mordecai himself is soon consumed.
Midian waits patiently for the revolution to reach his ‘last stand’ in the governor’s palace. One by one his supporters abandon him (either stealthily, as in the case of his Seneschal, or openly). All but his most loyal. These brave men stand by their lord, ready and willing to die for even the possibility that he may live. As a noble, he is used to people fighting for him. But as a mutant, he has never had people willing to die for him.
As the last of the loyalists die around him, he sends the recording of Xanatov’s execution to the Adeptus Mechanicus who rebroadcast it to every public viewer in Vinh City.
As Midian drops his ‘Glamour’, the tone of the place changes. Something is different, feels different. He shifts his senses and sees that the local warp space currents have changed. They’re converging, becoming a whirl-pool around the city and the surrounding environs.
Soon Maya find him. She is heavily bandaged, but is distracted by something other than pain. She looks around her, nervously, while the mob brutally punishes their former masters and oppressors.
Mid: “You feel it, don’t you. The power of it… the beauty.”
Maya nods, struck dumb.
Taking her by the hand, he leads her to along the path painted by the currents.
He finds his way into Xanatov’s chapel. Here the currents pool and spiral downwards. On the floor in an Aquila and he perceives its single jewelled eye to be shining. At first he places one of Anya Qi’s eyes upon it. When that doesn’t do anything at all, he touches it with his fingers. The ground shakes, the body of the eagle rises, it’s wings folding back. Behind it are stairs.
Maya locks the door and the two go down.
A tiny elevator quickly takes them amongst the roots of Vinh City. Lum’s ‘Holy Temple’ is a dirty, circular room infiltrated by a network of pipes. Maya is not too impressed.
Midian understands that time is against them and begins to set up the occult trappings the ritual requires.
Candles are set at cardinal and inter-cardinal stations. Incense burns in braziers of burnished brass. Strange sigils, faithfully copied from the recovered pages, are chalked on the ground or else painted in spilt animal blood.
Midian, anchors the place in your mind using the navigational formulae acquired from the pages.
The Warp energy swirls in very specific patterns just beyond the skin of reality. It’s impressive and not a little worrying, but the ritual requires strong will to focus it. Before Midian is able to make the necessary adjustments, Maya surprises him by taking control. He is so surprised that he reads her. She is no psyker, but seems quite adept at shielding herself, and that self-control is aiding her.
Midian’s mouth goes dry and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, almost as if it’s trying to break through. Adrenaline courses through his veins.
He can feel the will of a million souls. They are the people. They are the mob. They want the same things. They’re acting as one, thinking much the same thoughts.
Midian, has never experienced anything like this. The energy isn’t being filtered by his eye, instead coursing through every cell in his body. Only, it isn’t just a beautiful tide of pure, empyric energy – there are thoughts, intrinsically caught within the current, washing through his mind – thoughts not his own hijacking his brain! It threatens his sanity, but fortune smiles and he retains control.
You black out momentarily and something is wrong. As strange as it sounds it takes you a second or two to work out what it is. You’re no longer viewing the room from your own perspective, but from some point above your body.
You can see the room’s occupants on their knees, eyes rolled back, jaws slack, slowly – far too slowly – slumping to the ground.
All of your senses become sharper. You feel the dirt and stone of the floor and the burning heat within the flames of all the candles. You hear the worms in the dirt, the celebrations (or despairing commiserations) of the rioting locals even through dozens of feet of earth. You can taste sweat and blood and dirt and lho-stick smoke.
You continue to rise through the air. You try to blink as your brain tells you something’s wrong, desperately wrong, but find you cannot. Distracted by new sensory input – the inside of Vinh City, with all the looting, burning and destruction – you lose sight of temple and yourself. You try to search for it but it’s too late – you can now see the entire city, then the entire region, the continent, the world.
The uncontrollable acceleration continues, hurling you into orbit. There is no air in your lungs - panic sets in and, irrational and futile though it is, you try to claw your way back with arms you cannot see.
But you do not die. Convulsions wrack your body as your brain screams, “DANGER! NO OXYGEN! DANGER! NO OXYGEN!”. Even this dulls down to nothing as the absolute cold around you – the cold of the void – numbs even thought.
Thought, but not perception.
“I’m… I am… not dead.” This idea seems to take a decade to form. By the time the last syllable forms in your mind, Vinh in gone. Soon after, the system disappears too.
Seconds pass and the Cauldron and God-Emperor’s Scourge race by on either side. Seconds after that, the Koronus shrinks down to a dot, disappearing at the edge of “Segmentum Obscurus”. Briefly, you see the whole of the milky-way, spinning away into oblivion, joined by bright dots that must be its sibling galaxies. Finally, all is black.
At first Midian does not know what to do. He shouts, but hears nothing. Sees nothing. Feels nothing. He shifts his perception to the Warp and nothing seems wrong. In fact, nothing has changed – his perspective relative to the warp is the same as it was before the ritual began. He can even locate Maya Zin’s aura – unchanged in position.
Slowly it becomes clear that he hasn’t left his body or physically moved at all, that only his senses have been expanded. Expanded, and been overwhelmed – no human mind can process the sheer volume of information he was receiving and so… it had shut down.
With that in mind, Midian began, tentatively, to experiment. At first, forcing open up his senses again was impossible – the flood of information threatening to destroy his mind – but slowly, and surely, he made his way home.
Midian looked at himself in the mirror. ‘Not bad at all’ he thought to himself, admiring the female navigator who stared back. Maya returned. Seeing Midian’s form, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, checking the door was secure behind her.
May: “What do you make of this?”
She drew a four-inch shard of black crystal from her bag, passing it to Midian. He shifted to warp-sight, but was already fairly sure what she’d found.
Mid: “I don’t know what it does, but it’s a Yu’Vath construct. Or part of one. Where did you get it?”
She took it back and put it away.
May: “You were doing your thing so I went investigating. Everything is… different now. Everywhere I go, everything is so-”
Mid: “Familiar.”
May: “Yes.
“I heard some rumours and went to check them out. Mordecai’s dead – summoned a daemon… things got out of hand – lots of death. That thing was inside him.”
Maya Zin had taken longer to recover from the blackout, and was changed by the experience. Colder, if that were possible. Cold enough that she did not shiver when saying the word 'daemon', as most people did.
Mid: “Are you ready?”
May: “Nothing to keep me here.”
Mid: “And my former employer will certainly investigate the disturbance on Vinh.”
May: “Then I’d best not be here – I’d hate to be a loose end, something that could lead him to you. I imagine I’d find that most unfortunate.”
Midian smiled, deftly brushing aside the implied accusation.
Mid: “Vinh was a nice enough place to visit. But I suspect you’ll love Blemish.”
