Inquisitor, p.1
Inquisitor, page 1
Author: Ian Watson
Bookname: Inquisitor
ISBN: 1852838353
Published: 1990
Date scanned: 2002-06-05 to 2002-06-07
Scanned by: Malleus
Proofer(s): Malleus
Version: 0.9
Version 0.95 2007
Version 1.0 2007-03-06
The paragraphs in the Timeline at the beginning of the book, with hanging indentation, were made from separate, “hard-coded” lines. They have been reformatted into regular paragraphs. Un-indented the chapter headings and increased the paragraph first-line indentation. Changed "inch" marks into “smart” quotation marks. Changed each “--”, each single hyphen immediately before a closing quotation mark, and each space-hyphen-space into an em dash. Changed some font sizes, making them slightly larger and more uniform throughout the document.
Published in the UK 1993 by BOXTREE LIMITED
First published in the UK 1990 by GW Books
ISBN: 1 85283 835 3
Illustration on cover by Dave Gallagher
Illustration on title page by Stephen Tappin.
A TIMELINE FOR THE
WARHAMMER 40,000
UNIVERSE
Millennium Event
15th Humanity begins to colonise nearby solar systems using conventional sub-light spacecraft. At first, progress is painfully slow. Separated from Terra by up to ten generations in travel time, the new colonies have to survive mainly on local resources.
20th The Dark Age of Technology
Discovery of warp drives accelerates the colonisation process and the early independent or corporate colonies become federated to Terra. The first alien races (including the ubiquitous Orks) are encountered. The development of the Navigator gene allows human pilots to make longer and faster 'jumps' through warp space than was previously thought possible. The great Navigator families, initially controlled by industrial and trading cartels, become a power base in their own right. Humanity continues to explore and colonise the galaxy. Contacts are established with the Eldar and other alien races. A golden age of scientific achievement begins. Perfection of the Standard Template Construct (STC) system now permits an almost explosive expansion to the stars.
25th The Age of Strife
Humanity reaches the far edges of the galaxy, completing the push to the stars begun over ten thousand years before. Human civilisation is now widely dispersed and divergent — with countless small colonies as well as many large, overpopulated planets. Localised wars and disputes with various alien races (especially the Orks!) continue, but pose no threat to the overall stability of human-colonised space. Then, two things happen almost simultaneously. First, humans with psychic powers begin to appear on almost every colonised world. Second, civilisation starts to disintegrate under the stress of widespread insanity, demonic possession, and internecine strife between these new 'psykers' and the rest of humanity. Countless fanatical cults and organisations spring up to persecute the psykers as witches, and/or degenerate mutants. At this time, the existence of the creatures of the warp (later known and feared as demons), and the dangers they pose to the human mind with newly awakened psychic powers, is far from understood. Terrible wars tear human civilisation apart. Localised empires and factions fight amongst themselves as well as against fleets of Orks, Tyrannids, and other aliens whose forces are quick to seize the opportunity to sack human space. Many worlds fall prey to the dominance of Warp Creatures whilst others revert to barbarism. Humans survive only on those worlds where psykers are suppressed or controlled. During this time, Terra is cut off from the rest of humanity by terrible warp storms, which isolate the home world for several thousand years, further accelerating the ruin of humanity.
30th The Horus Heresy
Humanity itself teeters on the brink of the abyss of extinction. Civil war erupts throughout the galaxy as the Emperor of human space is betrayed by his most trusted lieutenant, the Warmaster Horus. Possessed by a demon from the warp, Horus seduces whole chapters of humanity's greatest warriors — the Space Marines — into joining his cause. When the final battle seems lost, the Emperor defeats Horus in single combat, but only at the cost of his own humanity. His physical life maintained by artificial means, and his psyche by human sacrifice, the Emperor begins the long task of reconquering human space. With the creation by the Emperor of the psychic navigational beacon known as the Astronomican, the foundations are laid for the building of the Imperium, as it to be known in the 41st millennium. Fuelled by the dying spirits of those psykers who would otherwise fall prey to the demons of the warp, and directed by the Emperor's indomitable will, the Astronomican soon becomes an invaluable aid to Navigators throughout the galaxy. Interstellar travel becomes even easier and quicker, while the repression and control of psykers and creatures from the warp releases much of humanity from its hellish bondage.
41st The Age of the Imperium
Throughout the portion of the galaxy known as the Imperium, humanity is bound within the organisations and strictures of the Administratum. The Emperor grows ever more detached from the day to day concerns of his mortal subjects, while the Inquisition works ceaselessly to protect humanity from the ever-present dangers posed by renegade psykers and the terrible creatures inhabiting warp space. The armies of the Imperium — the Guard and the almost superhuman Space Marines — maintain a constant vigil against the threat of invading Orks, Tyrannids and other aliens. But still the numbers of psykers increases steadily, and other more sinister groups associated with Warp Creature domination continue to gain ground...
INQUISITOR
Ian Watson
Inquisition clearance level:
Ordo Malleus Hidden Masters only.
WARNING!
What follows is the so-called Liber Secretorum, or Book of Secrets of Jaq Draco the renegade Inquisitor.
This is a book which may have been deliberately designed as a weapon to sabotage faith and duty. The primary purpose of the Liber may be to sow distrust and discord among the Hidden Masters of our order so as to undermine the Ordo Malleus from within. The intention might also be to cast doubt upon the motives of our God-Emperor himself. We do not know.
Yet if this book is truthful, as it protests that it is, let all Hidden Masters beware.
Whichever is the case, anyone authorized to scan this Liber Secretorum is privy to the darkest of conspiracies. Anyone not thus authorized faces the penalty of mindscrubbing, if detected. In either event, you are warned.
PROLOGUE
Believe me. I intend to tell the truth as I experienced it.
What does the name of Inquisitor mean? Many people would answer: destroyer of mutants, hammer of heretics, scourge of aliens, witch-hunter, torturer. Yet really the answer is: a seeker after truth, however terrible the truth may be.
As a member of the Ordo Malleus I am already a secret Inquisitor. Yet the truth I must disclose involves the revelation of even deeper, more sinister secrets than those known to members of our covert order.
My story includes a journey to the Eye of Terror itself. Not to mention an incursion into the Emperor's own throne room in the heart of his heavily guarded palace on Earth, something that you may consider almost impossible; yet I have achieved it.
Ah yes, I won through—only to find that the Emperor may keep secrets even from himself, in his fragmented mind; which you may not believe, either. But such is the case. So I swear.
My story involves a sleeping menace which you yourself may harbour.
And you, and you, unknowing!
In a galaxy where more than a million worlds harbour human beings—or variations upon human beings—and where this multitude is but the tip of the iceberg of worlds, and where that vast iceberg itself floats in a deeper sea of Chaos, there must be many secrets. Likewise: guardians of secrets, betrayers of secrets, discoverers of secrets. The whole universe is a skein of secrets, many of which are dire and hideous. Possession of a secret is no blessing, no hidden jewel. Rather, it is akin to a poison toad lurking inside a gem-encrusted box.
Yet now I must open that box for your inspection. I must betray my secret, or as much as I know of it.
Believe me.
I! Me! It sorts odd for a hidden Inquisitor to reveal his identity in this fashion. Aside from the obvious considerations of security, who can doubt what a powerful instrument a name can be? Why else will a daemon use almost any trick to avoid vomiting its true name forth from its own treacherous lips? For instance, whosoever knows the name of Thlyy'gzul'zhaell can bind and summon that vile entity... till such time as Thlyy'gzul'zhaell gains the upper claw; whereupon woe betide the foolish summoner. Naturally, a malicious daemon will readily reveal a rival daemon's name...
Though no daemon I, I feel in my bones that it might prove inauspicious to utter my own name overmuch in my own voice, lest somehow I may be summoned and bound-by hostile human forces. Therefore, I shall become he. I, Jaq Draco, will tell the story of Jaq Draco as witnessed by a fly upon the wall, committing Jaq Draco's experiences to this data-cube in the hope that the Master of the Malleus or of the Inquisition may authenticate the truth of what I report and determine to take action.
In that event, you (whoever you are, wherever, whenever) may be scanning these words as part of a briefing, poised on the brink of a deadly mission. I hail you-fellow Inquisitor, Marine Commander, Hidden Master, whomever.
Firstly I should briefly introduce Jaq Draco's travelling companions without whom he would surely have failed. They were three: Meh'Lindi the Assassin, Vitali
One of the nastier poison toads of the universe was about to launch itself out of its box, under the energetic prodding of a much more public Inquisitor by the name of Harq Obispal. Draco would keep vigilant watch in case any toadspawn remained behind uncleansed. He was likewise keeping watch on Obispal, a surveillance of which Obispal should ideally remain unaware, though doubtless he might have relished the scrutiny, since Obispal was a performer...
Chapter One
Some hive worlds consist of shell upon shell of plasteel braced by great pillars, as if the planet has grown a metal skin and then another skin and yet another, each successive skin being home to billions of busy human maggots, fleas, lice.
Other hive worlds are poisoned wildernesses punctuated by rearing plasteel termite mounds, vertical cities that punch through the clouds.
The cities of Stalinvast were more like coral reefs looming above a sea of hostile jungle. Kefalov bulged like some fossil brain adorned with innumerable ridges. Dendrov branched every which way, a forest of tangled stags' horns. Mysov was a mass of organ pipes, from which sprouted the fungi that were suburbs. Other cities were stacks of fans or dinner plates.
A thousand such cities, soaring, bulging, branching from the surface of Stalinvast and almost all involved in the manufacture of weapons for the Imperium. Stalinvast was a rich, important world. Its thronged reefs were proudly stained rose-red, scarlet, purple, pink. Between the cities the blue-green jungle was riven with great scars where plasma cannon and barrage bombs had been tested. Warrior robots, juggernauts, and land-raiders used the jungles as a proving ground.
The capital, Vasilariov, partook of most of the styles of coral architecture. Fifty kilometres long by forty wide by five high, currently Vasilariov was being scarred by some of its own weapons as Harq Obispal raged through the hive like an angry bear. Doing good work, oh yes...
In the Emerald Suite of the Empire Hotel, a plate jutting high above raw jungle at the southern edge of Vasilariov, Meh'Lindi said, “I think I shall go into town to practice.”
“Against the rebel hybrids?” asked little Grimm. “Huh! Count me out.”
Which meant, as they all knew, that Grimm didn't intend to miss any of the action.
“Dressed like that, Meh'Lindi?” Googol drawled archly.
The Navigator's large eyes assessed her gown of iridescent Sirian silk tied at the waist with a casual scarlet sash, her silverfur stole, her curly-toed slippers.
True, even costumed thus as a Trader's mistress she would be armed—with a garrotte or two, some tiny digital weapons for slipping on to her fingers, phials of the chemicals she used...
Reclining on a couch, Googol appraised Meh'Lindi's figure as she began to twitch subtly. The woman Assassin was running through some muscle exercises, using her enhanced body sense to tense and untense. She was artful steel expanding and contracting, tempering itself. Googol's own pose suggested languor. The spindly Navigator yawned.
Yet he was watching Meh'Lindi. As was Grimm; as was Jaq himself.
Meh'Lindi was taller than most men, long-limbed and sleek. Her height served to distract attention from the power in her calves and biceps. Her face, framed by curly, cropped raven hair, was curiously flat and anonymous—almost forgettable. Its smooth ivory planes suggested beauty without exactly expressing it, as if awaiting a stimulus to burst into life. Her eyes were golden.
Meh'Lindi. She had been taken as a child from a wild jungle world of carnivores, flesh-sucking plants, and hunter-warriors who had lost most of the arts of civilization save for those of cunning, combat and survival. Borne away to commence a decade of training in the School of Assassins, she had stubbornly insisted longer than most recruits on maintaining her identity. In her outlandish, simple dialect she had declared, “Me, Lindi! Me, Lindi!” Soon the seven-year-old girl had killed an older pupil who mocked her. She became known as Meh'Lindi thereafter among her instructors. They let her keep that part of herself, though much else changed. Now she smiled down faintly at the jungle below the crystal windows of the suite as if remembering home—though that day the really deadly jungle was within the city, not without.
Googol and Grimm both fed on her smile. As did Jaq. As did Jaq himself.
The Inquisitor knew that he should only think of Meh'Lindi as a wonderful, living weapon. He sincerely hoped that the Navigator would never be foolish enough to try to charm Meh'Lindi into his bed. Meh'Lindi could crush him to straw like a constrictor. She could crack his hairless head like an egg. Googol's ever-hidden warp-eye would pop out from beneath the black bandana tied around his brow.
As for the red-bearded Squat who only stood waist-high to Meh'Lindi... dapper in his quilted red flak jacket, green coveralls, and forage cap, his was obviously a comically hopeless passion.
“Meh'Lindi...”
“Yes, Inquisitor?” She inclined her head. Was she conceivably teasing Jaq?
“Don't use that title while we're on a mission!” He hoped that his tone sounded severe. “You must address me as Jaq.”
Ha, the power to order this remarkable and disturbing woman to address him intimately.
“Well, Jaq?”
“Yes is the answer. By all means go and practice within reason. Don't pull any stunts that draw lurid attention to yourself.”
“Vasilariov's in chaos. No one will notice me. I'll be helping the Imperium a little, won't I?”
“That isn't my purpose at present.”
Googol flapped a hand languidly. “The whole of Stalinvast may be in chaos in the ordinary sense, but Chaos as such has nothing to do with it. Genestealers aren't creatures of Chaos even if they do hang out in hulks in the warp till they can find a world to prey on.”
Jaq frowned at the Navigator. To be sure, his companions needed to know enough about him and his goals to perform effectively, but Malleus policy on the subject of Chaos and its minions was one of censorship. Chaos—the flipside of the universe, domain of the warp-spawned many vilenesses of the ilk of Thlyy'gzul'zhaell which sought to twist reality askew. Innumerable such specimens? The Ordo Malleus attempted to numerate them! Yet not to broadcast knowledge of those. Oh no, quite the contrary. Even the natural menace of Genestealers was daunting enough to require utmost circumspection.
“Huh,” said Grimm, “nobody knows the Stealers' true origin, so far as I'm aware. Unless you do, Jaq.”
Before Jaq could respond, Meh'Lindi kicked off her slippers. She discarded her stole. She loosed her sash, sending it snaking with a flick of her wrist so that Grimm jumped back a pace. Without ceremony she dropped her silk gown, standing naked but for her briefs and her tattoos, which were all black. A hairy spider embraced her waist. A fanged serpent writhed up her right leg as if to attack the spider. Beetles walked across her breasts. Most of her tattoos concealed long-healed scars, embellishing those cicatrices eerily. Her hand now cradled a tiny canister; what a conjuror she could be. That would have been clipped somewhere inside the scarlet sash.
Poising acrobatically upon one leg then the other, Meh'Lindi proceeded to spray her body from toe to neck with black synthetic skin. Contorting herself elegantly, yet always remaining perfectly balanced, she missed no cleft or crease or dimple. At what stage did her briefs tear loose? Jaq hardly saw. He sensed her excitement and his own excitement; knew that those were two different species of excitement.
Hastily he redirected his attention towards the circular screen that he had hung on the wall in place of an oil painting of some horned, scaly jungle monster.
His psychic sense of presence buzzed as he recontacted his spy-flies. The screen lit with a hundred crowded little images, a mosaic of miniature scenes. Now that screen was the faceted eye of a fly, though the view from each facet was unique.
