"On it," said the assassin. The armsman disguise had necessitated wearing heavier armour than he was comfortable with, but he would manage.
"The rest of you with Maladar and I." The inquisitor headed for the far door, where Randor Fisk had fled. Maladar and the rest of his armsmen followed in his wake. Keys watched them leave and then checked the the side door with his psi detector. Four souls, maybe ten meters distant.
The assassin stood at the side of door and his the control. He bounced a pair of plasma grenades down the corridor. The door slid shut. The dull roar of detonation He checked the psi detector again. Two signals. He opened the door, popped a blind grenade through, went low, and blazed away with the hellgun. He rolled back. Checked the detector. No survivors.
Good. Now he could get on with the important business. Moving to the bridge and the astropath dome and killing everyone there.
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"We should have used vat grown bodies for this," Gard said with distaste.
"Like that clone you grew of Gix?" Hethor said. "Slick work."
"Yes," the scientist replied. "Like that."
"Costs, resources," Hethor replied. "Heretic prisoners are cheaper. Besides, Jolan burned through half a dozen of them making sure he had the hang of it. Not that he needed to."
"To extinguish a man like that," said Gard shaking his head.
"Hey, they chose to reject the Emperor." The contents of the case stirred. They had once been Free Stars soldiers. Now their bodies were branded with runes of binding and armoured in ceramite plate. Their eyes opened. Cold white light spilled out. Gix had riven their souls from their bodies. The daemon princes he had bound to their flesh had been weak and weakened further by the strength of his binding, but they were still utterly deadly.
"Get up," Hethor commanded. The unfolded themselves and stood. "Go to the prow of the ship. Kill its crew and armsmen. Under no circumstances harm those on our side. When you reach the prow, come back and sweep the ship."
The daemonhosts glared back at him with cold hate in their eyes, but moved toward the ramp. Hethor watched them go. "Throne, I hate those things."
He picked up his bolter and checked the clip out of ancient reflex. He would have preferred the assault las, but the armsmen here were wearing heavy armour. A boltgun with Kraken pattern armour piercers was a better choice. He headed down the ramp. He had Jolan Gix's back, like always. Whether he asked for it or not.
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Randor Fisk touched a control on his wrist as he ran. "All units, boarding alert! Destroy the enemy in landing bay two and enemy forces in conference room one."
"I hear and obey lord," came the mellow voice of Iskander Riel. "The enemy has taken landing bay two. Internal defences and our troops there are down."
"Arm the crew," Fisk growled. "Tell them to ignore uniforms of claims authority. Kill all the intruders."
"All armsmen are armed and ready as per your instructions. I'm getting reports of fighting in section B3. They're wiping the floor with my men."
"Get reinforcements there and have units come to me."
"Yes sir." What the hell were they thinking? They could possibly squeeze enough troops into the cutter to take this ship. All they were going to do was take a lot of people with them when they died. That couldn't be Gix's plan. What was he missing?