A squad of Naval Security stormtroopers carried her prize out of the ruined building behind her. Astropaths would be here soon to help secure the dangerous, but mangled psyker. Every part of Kyra's body ached. But they had one.
The streets of Lowport were filled with rubble and wrecked machines. Dead bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls around the Chanai Stacks. The heavy drone of gunship engines came from overhead and the barrels of crew served weapons could by seen poking out of the broken windows of adjacent buildings. Arbites vehicles controlled the streets. Heavily armed teams in battle armour and field medical kits combed the area. The intent was clear: none of the infected would be permitted to escape. This whole planet would soon be the site of a scouring.
Her escort was polite, but refused to obey her. They loaded her into a flier. She could see the huge pillars of black smoke rising up from the craters that used to be the PDF barracks and the Imperial Commander's palace. Maladar had arrived and taken control with his customary use of decisive and brutal action. And now it was her turn.
The flyer touched down on a roof pad of the Astra Telepathicus Guildhouse. It was more of an armoured tower than a stack and possessed its own shield generators. And most of its personnel came from off world. An odd choice for Maladar, but not an unreasonable one. The troops marched her down stairs and out into a corridor. Her heart skipped a beat. The brawny form of Hethor D'eckor stood there.
He was wearing full battle dress, but the heavy stubber he had been using for the last mission was replaced with an Arbites battle shotgun. He motioned her forward. "You boys are done. Go back to your unit." The head of the stormtroopers hesitated. "You heard me. You have your orders. Go." They turned and left. The door slid open.
The office was broad and spacious. A huge armourplast window looked out over the savaged city. A mammoth desk of shiny black teak was almost as long as the window. A gold and ebony cogitator screen nearly a meter long was off in one corner. Three hides of a large native mammal were spread out over the carpet in front of the desk. Maladar was nowhere to be seen. Sitting in the chair was Jolan Gix.
She stepped forward hesitantly. Hethor came through right behind her. The door slid shut. Even if she tried, there was no use fighting. Her reflexes were superior, but she would have to turn to kill Hethor while he only had to pull a trigger. A good precaution. Her students did not dissappoint. "Where is Maladar?"
"Still in the warp," Gix replied. Kyra's mind raced. Gix must have ordered the orbital bombardments. So her student did have it in him to do what must be done. She relaxed.
"I'm infected."
"I know. The odds are overwhelmingly in favor of it."
"Do your duty inquisitor."
"I am," Gix replied. "You're well past the age where you can reproduce so there is no danger of you passing on contaminated genes to the next generation. And you have already proven resistant to brood telepathic bond. An examination by astropaths will be held, to confirm this. The risk is low. Chemical dispenser implants and the correction of your gene runes by the Magi Biologis should reverse most of the damage. Your value to the Imperium is high and you are well worth the attempt. Logic dictates this is the proper course."
"That's why you had me taken here. So the Arbites-"
"And their snoops would not no what is going on. It is the Inquisition's business."