Deep into the night.
Rena sat in the dim glow of her quarters, the lumen strips casting sharp shadows over the plasteel walls as she addressed the three figures before her. Her voice was steady, each word measured and precise as she laid out the plan, every phase accounted for, every contingency dissected, every risk weighed against necessity.
They would falsify their departure from the Talon System, creating an official trail that led them far from their true objective. Once the deception was in place, they would slip back into the system's void, unseen and unnoticed, to infiltrate the hive world Talon I while avoiding its myriad automated patrols. The patrols were tireless, unblinking eyes, but they had studied their patterns, found the weaknesses. It was a risk, but one they had no choice but to take.
All of this, all of the effort and peril, was directed toward one singular purpose, the elimination of the so-called Lord of Talon.
Rena's tone remained grim as she spoke, though a flicker of dark amusement touched her mind. The absurdity of explaining an assassination plot against an entire system's ruler to a mere trio of ship crew members was not lost on her. And yet, the three before her were anything but ordinary.
They did not flinch. They did not question. Their expressions were devoid of fear, their eyes fixed on her with cold, calculating intensity. They memorized each step of the plan, internalizing every detail Rena had spent so long refining.
She exhaled, allowing herself a brief moment of reflection. "At least I have allies who specialize in assassination. Otherwise, I wouldn't even know where to begin."
She inclined her head. "Thank you."
Having finished outlining the plan, Rena stood and brought her hands together in the sign of the Aquila, offering the salute not as a superior to subordinates, but as one warrior acknowledging another.
It was an odd sight an Inquisitor, even an unofficial one, to salute a mere group of crew members was unheard of. But Rena knew exactly who these people were.
These were no simple crew members.
They were agents of the Officio Assassinorum, the Imperium's silent blade in the dark.
The Officio Assassinorum was the Imperium's most secretive and feared execution force, a clandestine organization that operated in the shadows, eliminating enemies of the Emperor with ruthless precision.
While the Astra Militarum waged wars with uncountable legions and the Adeptus Astartes shattered enemies with transhuman fury, the Officio Assassinorum worked in silence, trained from birth within specialized temples, each dedicated to a particular art of killing.
The Vindicare, masters of the perfect kill with their long-range rifles.
The Eversor, berserkers of destruction, fueled by combat stimulants.
The Culexus, living weapons against psykers, nulls so dreaded that even their allies feared their presence.
The Callidus, shape-shifters and deceivers, capable of becoming anyone to bring death from within.
A month ago, they had approached her, offering their cooperation. Their true motivations remained unclear, but Rena wasn't foolish enough to reject such an offer. The hand of the Emperor, unseen and deadly, was now poised at her command.
"Madam, I have a question."
A burly, bearded middle-aged man raised his hand. His voice, however, was unmistakably feminine.
Hearing that voice, Rena immediately recalled who it was, the first assassin to contact her.
A Callidus Assassin. Capable of shifting between male and female forms at will through advanced genetic and psycho-surgical techniques. Their ability to adopt any identity made them invaluable in the covert wars of the Imperium.
The fact that she had chosen to revert to her natural voice now was not incidental. It was a calculated move, a subtle cue that demanded Rena's full attention.
Rena nodded without hesitation. "Ask."
"Do you believe the Governor of Talon is an unsanctioned psyker?" the assassin asked.
"Yes." Rena's expression darkened. "If the others had believed me, we could have judged every soul in this system guilty of harboring a rogue psyker!"
The assassin nodded silently, appearing lost in thought for a moment. Then, as if having reached a conclusion, she posed a second question.
"Why are you so certain that this Governor is a heretic?"
"Premonition." Rena's answer was firm. "My instincts have never been wrong."
"Very well." The assassin inclined her head slightly. Then, in a more serious tone, she warned, "The situation here is far more complex than we imagined. This mission must be carried out with absolute discretion. If we fail, I need to be sure you will not expose us."
"I have no need to make guarantees," Rena stated coldly. "Just ensure that, if the mission fails, you kill me. It's as simple as that."
Her unwavering resolve seemed to satisfy the assassin. She exchanged glances with her two comrades before nodding approvingly.
"For the Emperor! For the Imperium! For the survival of Mankind in the galaxy!"
Rena launched into an impassioned speech before the three assassins.
"I will sacrifice everything, do what others dare not, kill those whom others fear to touch! We shall—"
She was cut off mid-sentence as the Callidus raised a hand.
"Apologies, but we still require time to prepare. That said, your speech was… inspiring."
Rena showed no irritation at the interruption. She simply nodded. "Let us focus on what matters. The assassination begins in three days!"
The three assassins acknowledged her words with a brief nod, then vanished without a sound.
....
Two hours later.
Rena knelt within her quarters, carefully applying a thin layer of consecrated fat to her weapon.
This fat had been harvested from a Ministorum Confessor who had fought alongside her over a century ago. His unwavering faith and righteous spirit had left an impression on her, and before his death, he had willingly bequeathed this piece of himself as a final blessing.
Now, with every battle, his essence lived on in the steel she wielded.
Once anointed with such sacred fat, her power sword's edge shimmered with a faint argent glow, its holy field harmonizing with the anointment, rendering it even deadlier against the flesh and armor of the unworthy.
As she prepared, fragmented visions and whispers flickered through her mind.
Scattered skeletal remains littering the hive world. Blasphemous symbols carved into walls. Profane rituals being conducted in the depths of the underhive.
"He-he-he… he is a threat… a threat to the human race… you must-must-must… eliminate him!"
A distorted voice echoed in her ears, overlapping with flashes of these grotesque scenes.
This was why she had made her decision. She believed, no, she knew that she had received a vision. Perhaps from a venerated Inquisitor of ages past. Perhaps from a saint.
Or perhaps… from the Emperor Himself.
It was a command she could not defy. A mission that must be completed.
"Three more days of rituals… and I should be able to take that heretic's damned head in one strike."
Lifting her power sword, now gleaming under the dim light, Rena scrutinized its edge.
This was the weapon given to her by her mentor. It had never failed her before. No matter how dire the battle, it had always cut a path for her survival. To falter now would dishonor his memory and worse, it would betray the Emperor's trust.
After a moment, she set the sword aside and retrieved a rhombus-shaped device from a nearby table.
Another gift from her mentor.
A psy-linked recorder, capable of transmitting thoughts and records across vast distances.
In truth, Rena had no certainty that the mission would succeed. If it failed, she wanted to leave behind a record, something for the next warrior of the Emperor to carry forward.
After ensuring the device was properly calibrated, Rena's work for the day was complete.
She poured herself a glass of amasec, the amber liquid swirling within the glass as she raised it to her lips. It burned as it slid down her throat, a moment of fleeting comfort before the storm.
Setting the glass aside, she lay down on her cot, the worn fabric cradling her form. The stress of the day, the weight of the mission, slowly drifted from her mind, and within moments, Rena was asleep.
....
That night, Rena dreamed.
She dreamt of victory.
She saw herself standing atop the hive spires, the severed head of the heretic governor gripped tightly in her gauntlet. Blood still dripped from the ragged stump, staining the once-pristine marble of the governor's palace.
Marching through the streets, she proclaimed his crimes for all to hear.
The hive's populace bowed their heads in silence. The nobles cheered and applauded. The Planetary Defense Forces stood at attention, forming her honor guard as she strode through every level of the city.
The sheer elation of the dream made her body break out in a sweat. She shifted in bed, gasping slightly, then drifted deeper into sleep.
But then, the dream changed.
She found herself in an unknown place.
When she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, she realized she stood within an immense metallic hall.
This place was not on any planet's surface. Through its towering windows, there were no moons. No sky.
Yet the interior was not shrouded in darkness. In the dim glow, she could make out every detail.
Enormous adamantium pillars.
Mounted upon them, holo-projectors and framed portraits.
Each display showcased legends of the Imperium.
At the center of the images was always the same man, a warrior, rugged rather than handsome.
Sometimes, he stood among his soldiers, posing for a photograph. Other times, he was on the battlefield, personally leading the charge.
Who was he?
The dream did not answer.
And in that moment, Rena knew, her mission was far from over.
.....
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