Secret War: Warhammer 40,000 by Ben Agar (romantic novels to read .TXT) 📕

a slow, almost overdramatic way, revealing the grim, metal elevator inside.

"You first," I said, giving It a light shove as we stepped inside.

The Thing pushed the down button on the elevator, and it began its descent.

"So, I see that you logged into the system as Barhurst with the retinal scan," I said.

The Thing didn't reply. It only gave me a distinctly contemptuous sidelong glare.

"From that, I can only assume, you can't actually shape change," I carried on. "Not properly anyway, the image which I see that is me is an illusion, so six months ago when you killed Barhurst, you had his eyes implanted into your skull, which really shows that you are very, very dedicated to your work."

"Oh, so clever of you to figure that out," It said with a sarcastic sneer. "Do you want a medal?"

I smiled. "So it's true then."

The Thing only shrugged.

It was then the elevator found its destination, and the doors slid open.

"You..."

"Yeah, yeah!" It interrupted, "me first, I know."

 

 

We emerged from the lift and into the room beyond it was stark and bright, white tiles lining the walls and the floor. On each side were what looked to be large cells, six in total, and at the end was another doorway.

"So, what now?" It asked over Its shoulder. "Are you going to kill me now?"

"What's behind that door?" I asked, intentionally avoiding the question.

The Thing sighed. "It's Taryst's panic room where he keeps his cogitators and surveillance systems and supplies just in case."

I smiled. "Of course it is; how far are we below the planet's surface?"

"Approximately seven miles," It said. "And before you ask, you do not need a retinal scan for access; it's a password again, and that again is j-garrakson."

I shook my head; why did Taryst have all his passwords in Garrakson's name? Everything was getting stranger and stranger.

"How do you open the containment cells?"

"Each is opened with a basic switch outside each cell," It informed and looked at me again wide-eyed. "Are you going to kill me?"

I met Its gaze, intentionally letting its question hang for a few seconds. 'No," I said and smacked It over the skull with the hilt of my sword.

"Not yet."

Stepping over the Thing's unconscious form, I walked toward the door looking intently through the windows of each cell.

The first two were empty, but the second on the right wasn't.

A corpse lay, and that corpse was without doubt Taryst, recognisable even after a while of decomposition.

I wasn't sure what to feel, I held no love for the rogue trader, but he was one of those people who seemed larger than life. He had terrific charisma, a force of great personality before he retreated into this psychotic paranoia which ironically was one of the key reasons for his death.

My attention turned back to the Thing masquerading as me, and for a second, some sick professional respect for it came to me; this Thing was a true assassin, one that behind the scenes had influenced so much in this game almost single-handed. It infiltrated Taryst's organisation without being detected for months waiting patiently for when to strike. It killed Taryst; one of the greatest rogue traders in the sector took his place as the head of a multi-planet organisation and acting in such a convincing way, it managed to fool men who had been working under Taryst for decades. So much so that only one realised something was wrong and thought it had killed the girl I loved, and I would forever hate it for that. But It was good, very good I had to give It that.

I sighed and moved onto the last two cells, and the one on the right made me freeze in my advance.

A woman was in the cell; she lay on the floor in a deep sleep with a drip feed in her arm, she was blonde, and she was without a doubt the woman I had sparred within my dream.

This must be Karmen Kons, the pet psyker of Taryst, the one who had allowed the rogue trader to delve into the minds of his employees and worked so long behind the scenes.

She was beautiful with a lean if a bit malnourished body and heart-shaped face.

This woman must know a lot; she was very close to the diseased rogue trader, perhaps even more so than Barhurst.

If I could help her into consciousness if I could get her talking about what I could learn from her, but did I want to know it?

I sighed again and turned away from the cell to the next and what I saw made me drop my jaw in utter horror.

The corpse that lay within was barely recognisable after what must have looked to be a few months of decomposition. Still, being in such a stark environment, it could have been dead a lot longer; I could only be thankful that the door kept the stench inside.

It wore a robe one that looked like a priest of the Ecclesiarchy would wear; although I wasn't sure who it was, I could see it was once a girl.

I knew then, without a doubt, this was the Interrogator I was sent to take a pict of. I had this plan in my mind that if she were alive, I would force this chameleon thing to change into her, and then I'd kill It take a photo of its corpse. Send that to Edracian, then escape with the real Interrogator, maybe making whoever this person's master was, in my debt.

That was the reason why I had knocked the Thing unconscious to see if It could hold onto a form while out cold. I glanced over to it, seeing that It still kept my appearance.

Well, it looked like that plan was down the drain, and I reached into my pocket for the pict taker.

But then it hit me like a punch to the guts, which made my eyes go wide, and my mouth gaped. If the good medicae Feuilt had been down here numerous times to give the psyker her daily dose of drugs, he must have at some point seen the two corpses in these cells; he must have known that one was Taryst! Wait, what it was, he said before I went through the curtains to confront Taryst; "Don't die Attelus Kaltos, life is tough, but you must live on, or let me reiterate, don't let yourself die."

Did he know about me being poisoned?

Feuilt was the spy that Edracian had bragged about, and not just that, he was also working under Glaitis as well; Feuilt was a triple agent!

But how did he dodge the unscrupulous gaze of the psyker?

I glanced over my shoulder to the unconscious form in the other cell; she knew something; she must know something. I turned back to the cell with the Interrogator's corpse. I pulled out the pict taker in my jacket's pocket and took the picture.

"Well, well well!" came the voice through my thoughts, so suddenly, I almost made myself jump out of my skin. "You did it, Attelus Kaltos; why I am quite impressed."

"Edracian!" I snarled. "Feuilt was your spy!"

The Inquisitor laughed. "Of course, I thought it would be obvious, he was Glaitis' spy, Taryst's medicae but all along truly my agent, and I have another thing to tell you."

"What?"

"You were never poisoned, Attelus; we injected you with a nerve agent. You are not going to die; there is no cure; you never needed one!"

"But-!"

"You did well, Attelus Xanthis Kaltos, you really, really did well. You jumped through all my hoops like a good little pawn."

With a roar of rage, I smashed my fist against the glass of the nearest containment cell.

"You bastard!" I yelled, "You frigging bastard! I swear! I will kill you! I will hunt you down, and you will pay! How dare you, how frigging dare you!"

Edracian's voice only laughed. "Why are you so upset? Are you not used to being a pawn already? You have always been one, so it would seem logical."

Then the voice was gone.

I let out another roar and kicked the glass of the cell holding the comatose Karmen Kons, and I was about to kick again but stopped then pushed the switch to the jail.

This Karmen Kons she was was going to help me; she would tell me all the information I needed, whether she wanted to or not.

 

Chapter 11

 The small cell stunk. Karmen Kons was hooked up to a medical apparatus similar to the one I was on when in a coma. It was made to hold the coma patient's body waste. But that was sealed tight; she stunk as someone would after not taking a shower in a month.

I grimaced, gagging at the smell but hesitated, instead looked back to the Thing on the floor and hissed a curse under my breath. It could wake up any second, and here was I just letting it just lie out in the open. My teeth clenched with anger at my inherent idiocy, I walked over to the Thing and opened the nearest cell, punching the switch with a frustrated fist. I then grabbed it from its ankles and hauled It into the cell with a grunt.

After closing the holding cell, I walked to the door at the end of the room; there must be something behind it that I could use to revive her.

Setting my jaw, I hurriedly typed in 'jgarrakson' into the keypad, hoping to hell that the Thing had told the truth about not needing a retinal scan for access.

But my worries were quickly allayed as the doors slid open, revealing the room beyond.

I slipped inside my sword raised in a defensive posture and found myself wishing that I'd brought my pistol and that I'd drilled the mimic for more answers as who knows what defences that Taryst kept inside?

The room was quite large and brightly lit, although the architecture was not as starkly white as the last room. It had a simple, practical layout that surprisingly contrasted Tayst's quarters' pretentious opulence on the top of the tower.

In the middle of the room was a large work desk with an inbuilt cogitator and behind that, a small living area, while on the right-hand wall was another door.

I looked at the desk cogitator; this would have to be the hub of all Taryst's knowledge of how his organisation worked, information on all the projects he had pored his vast wealth into over the decades. Perhaps even the records from his father and his father's father, but by far the most interesting was his true motivations. Why was he so hell-bent on tracking down this Brutis Bones if I could tap into this fountain of knowledge? If I could harness it I... I actually didn't quite know what I would do. I'd have to get Vex down here sometime to take a look.

Carefully I moved further in; my sword still raised and approached the desk; now, I was no expert on using cogitators, but I could use them well. I found it on and immediately treated to the password request screen.

I smiled, shook my head in contempt and typed in 'jgarrakson', but much to my choler found only the 'access denied' screen. I really shouldn't have been so surprised. It would have been