Disclaimer: I own nothing. The original ideas for Halo & WH40K belong to the makers of said games, and the FFH idea is Bombsquads'.

This is, however, a side-story to the main story of FFH. I am a writer for the FFH universe.

Planet Equanim, Western sector of the known human galaxy.

Inquisitor Aberfeldy was not a very distinctive character. His wide nose and large eyes gave the impression that he was rather foolish, a notion which was cultivated by his awkward, gangly walk. He was often ignored, and for this he was thankful. Unlike some of his – he sneered at the thought – colleagues, he believed secrecy was needed in order to perform his work.

Right now, his irregular steps took him down a cramped street, bustling with busy pedestrians and stalls, rain dripping off the latter onto the former. A trickle of water went down his neck, causing him to shudder, then put his hood up against the inclement weather. Two Adept Arbites peace-keepers marched down the street, their heads held high with disdain at the town people. As they passed Aberfeldy, one deliberately stuck out his leg, catching the Inquisitor's leg. He stumbled, then glared at the two chuckling oafs as they continued down the street.

He breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth, reciting the psalm of clarity in his head. To have acted rashly would have drawn attention to him, and that was the last thing he needed. He turned around and continued on his way, skirting along the occasional brown puddle and haggling market seller. He ducked his head as a horse-drawn cart rolled by, then stepped into a side street, putting his hood down as he did. The rain sporadically fell in little waterfalls, diverted by gutters and pipes onto the street, so the ground was relatively dry. He stopped at a wooden door, knocked twice, then entered.

A group of eyes looked up at him from a smoke-hazed room, then descended as they realised who it was. Aberfeldy took off his now-damp coat and draped it over a chair, drips falling of it like a metronome. He sat down on an old armchair placed next to an oil-heater and ran his hands through his hair wearily.


Aberfeldy looked up from his seat at Thelonius. "Yes?"

"What happened?"

Aberfeldy sat back and sighed theatrically. "You don't want to know…"




Private liner Emperor's Blessings, property of Inquisitor Eriquehart Grigor, high orbit of Equanim.

The door slid open on rusted tracks, and Inquisitor Tyrus stepped through, his normally armoured form clad in a simple hooded robe. Inquisitor Grigor smiled slowly, wrinkles spreading across his hairless head expansively. Tyrus walked in, and stood in at the table Grigor was sitting at, purposely avoiding the offered seat.

"Hello Inquisitor Tyrus," Grigor began, "How are you? Would you like something to eat, to drink?" his hand hovered over the assorted candied fruits and selections of fine wines, a luxury on a space-faring liner, even a private one.

"I'll not eat nor drink." Tyrus said sharply, his jaw clenching in his usual manner.

"Nothing?" Grigor's face became a parody of a disappointed frown. "Something to smoke, then? I have some freshly imported ragweed cigars from Aggripona. How about a seat? You must be tired."

"I don't smoke, and I need no chair." Tyrus replied, his eye narrowing in frustration. "I came here to discuss one thing. We have no time to discuss pleasantries and material belongings."

Monodominants are so predictable… Grigor thought, rolling his eyes in an exasperated fashion. "I suppose you wish to discuss about this 'Halo' network…?" He raised his goblet at Tyrus who nodded curtly. "What about it? We had voted as to what to do with it."

Tyrus glared at Grigor. "The vote is of no importance to the Inquisition. We all know this. There are more important things to consider about these things than just using them for a trap."

"You disapprove of Eisenhorn's plan?"

"Eisenhorn is a fool." Tyrus snapped, "He believes that we can use these alien structures to rid ourselves of the Enemy Without? Absurd!"

Grigor's hand lazily traced the lip of his goblet as he pursed his purplish lips lazily, his mind quickly flitting from one possibility to the next. "What precisely do you mean?" He hazarded.

"Eisenhorn may be one of the most respected," Tyrus' tone became sneering in contempt, "Inquisitors, but his methods are unsound. He regularly contacts with anti-Imperium organisations. He employs mutants and aliens. Emperor have mercy, he even uses a Daemonhost as if it was a mere toy!"

"Are you seriously suggesting that Eisenhorn has become a heretic?" Grigor asked, his tone slightly disbelieving.

Tyrus looked uncomfortable. "I am not suggesting he is-" Ah, he still stings from the failed accusations against Eisenhorn before, Grigor thought with a mild smirk, "-what I am saying is that Eisenhorn's methods may have blinded him from the truth behind these structures."

Grigor waved for Tyrus to go on.

Tyrus slowly tread the metal-plated floor of the deck and stood at the viewport. "Look at those stars," he said suddenly, "The first time I ever saw them, I was filled with wonder." His hand waved around of him as he searched for the next words. "Little jewels in the sky, winking at us poor wretches, tempting us with hidden desires… longings…" his hand curled into a fist. "I almost believed they were wondrous things too, until I finally learned the truth!" He turned away from the viewport violently. "Every one of those stars hides a threat, an alien, a heretic, a daemon… Each one holds a trick to bring the Imperium to its knees. Eisenhorn spends too long looking at the stars without remembering this fact. He is too naïve."

"What are you saying, Tyrus?"

"The Halo is an alien device, is it not?" Tyrus continued before Grigor could confirm it was. "There has been substantial evidence that it allows the ingress and egress of aliens to and from out galaxy. Not only is this an indication of a device designed to bring about the downfall of man, but it clearly dictates pure heresy against the Emperor, and no-one thinks this to be dangerous!"

"I don't recall the Emperor ever saying there were no humans outside of our galaxy…" Grigor admonished. "The Macharius campaigns clearly found species of man in areas beyond our previous reckoning-"

"The Emperor noted that humans had colonised the stars of our galaxy long before he came to power," Tyrus corrected. "Not once in all of his impeccable omnipotence did he state there were humans outside of our galaxy. The Emperor is never wrong." He leaned on the table heavily. "This is clearly a trap!"

Grigor slowly ran his hands over his shaven head, feeling the stubble of his hair rasp against his palms. He looked up wearily at Tyrus. "Inquisitor Krypmann said the Adeptus Machanius had run their most thorough tests on the data from the Halo. They found no duplicity in it-"

"You would trust our fates in the hands of those idolaters?" Tyrus retorted. "Open your eyes, Grigor. They are blinded by their scientific methods and procedures. Faith is the route to truth, not science. Any creature advanced enough could fake such data, make us think there were humans elsewhere to be herded towards the Divinity of the Emperor and hence strike out against us when we least expected it!"

"Tyrus! Please!" Grigor held his hands up, trying to calm the Monodominant. "What precisely are you trying to say?"

"It is a well-known fact that all aliens hold nothing but contempt for humans," Tyrus whispered. "This could well be a plot, a most subtle and despicable plot by Xenos to obliterate us!"


"Use the brains that the Emperor gave you, for once," Tyrus snapped. Grigor glared at the insult, "Aliens have been observed to have exited through one of these devices, hostile aliens who managed to slay devout followers of the Emperor. Then," Tyrus sneered contemptuously, "A mysterious piece of data was sent through, declaring it to be a cry of help for other humans to save them from this alien menace. Conveniently, there was also a data storage unit on the Halo which supported this distress signal. Am I the only one who sees something remotely unlikely in this?"

"Let us assume that you are."

"It seems to me, that this new Xenos has deliberately produced false data in order to weaken our defences. Think about it! We send in a contingent of men in accordance with Eisenhorn's plans, thinking that there will be some humans who will help them. Instead, an entire Xenos horde lies in wait for them, ready to destroy them as soon as they go through the Halo."

Grigor raised an eyebrow sceptically. "That seems rather unlikely."

"Does it?" Tyrus retorted. "They could sufficiently weaken our already strained forces and then strike out against us! They could even have allied with other aliens in this galaxy! The Tau and Eldar have already been through these devices – what makes you think that this… Covenant, have not already done the same before? We have seen their proficiency in battle. It would not seem unreasonable to think that they have already planted the seeds of our destruction in countless planets! We must act now! If only to preserve the Emperor, we must act, with either the blessings or the curses of the Inquisitorial court!"

Grigor paused and chewed the inside of his cheek slowly. He never could trust Tyrus before. There was a certain aura around the man of unthinking anger, of pure, inhumane fury. His too-tall stance, guttural voice and unsymmetrical face added to this feeling. And yet… and yet…

"What…" Grigor asked slowly, "do you propose we do?"

Tyrus smiled.




Planet Equanim

Thelonius leaned back on the wooden chair, balancing his weight against the wall behind him, and whistled slowly. "Holy throne…"

Aberfeldy nodded solemnly. "This has potential to completely overthrow the Imperium. More so than the Thirteenth Crusade."

"What does that mean?" Styx asked from the dusty couch he was lying on.

"It means the Emperor himself could be under threat." Aberfeldy muttered.

"No," Styx retorted, sitting up. "What does 'potential' mean?"

"Potential means 'it can happen'."

Styx nodded slowly, and scratched the side of his head with one of his feet, causing the last figure in the room to stir uneasily. Styx ignored the gesture and continued to scratch, a slight smile on his face. Thelonius asked him to stop.

Styx pouted slightly, and began to drum his toes on the wooden floor in a deliberately slow fashion.

The other figure made a warding sign at Styx's malformed feet, then walked to the opposite wall and leaned against it stubbornly. Aberfeldy felt some sympathy towards the man as he looked upon the right side of the man's face, seeing his own distorted reflection in the metal surface of the bionic face that replaced the ex-soldiers' skin on his head. The man faced him, his other eye sunk deeply into his face, making him look more unstable.

"Do you have any thoughts, Ibrahim?"

The man shook his head slowly, then swallowed.

Styx looked at Aberfeldy. "So, what's the deal, boss?"

Aberfeldy glanced venomously at the mutant's hand-feet. I'll keep him as long as he is useful he thought bitterly then I shall remember his way with me, yes I most certainly will. He took a deep breath. "It seems to me that a device like this should not be able to spontaneously appear for no reason whatsoever." He got up off his chair and began pacing the squalid room. "I would think it pertinent to try and look up the annuals of the ancient crusades, see if they document anything similar to this Halo device."

"Hold on," Thelonius interrupted, "the chances of us finding a document on an alien device like this – if it hasn't already been destroyed – is unlikely. We'd need an army of scholars to look through all the annuals, and even then, it would take us years to go through every one of them."

Aberfeldy nodded gloomily, acknowledging the point made. "Regardless, I need more information before I do anything. I wouldn't like to think I had acted in haste."

"Why bother acting at all?" Styx drawled, lying back on the couch. "You said the conclave had made a decision concerning the Halo. Why do we need to bother in doing anything?"

"Because," Aberfeldy said through gritted teeth, "All the other Inquisitors will be performing their little conspiracies in order to change the decision in their favour." You moronic imbecile.

"I take it that it would be fruitless asking for another Inquisitor if they found any information about Halo-like constructs in annuals they may have expected?" Thelonius saw Aberfeldy nod. "Thought not."

"So what we need…" Styx asked slowly, "Is a detailed depository of information on the Halo, in a small amount of time, and avoiding detection from other Inquisitors how would suspect us of subverting their plans…"

Aberfeldy nodded again, rolling his eyes wearily.

"What about the alien ship?"

Aberfeldy looked up.

"Y'know, the ship that was captured. You said that they told you it was in dry-dock around Mars. The Adeptus Mechanius would undoubtedly try and decipher any data they find in the ship, all we'd have to do is stroll in…"

"Stone me," Thelonius muttered, "the muties' got a point." Styx grinned slyly in response, and began to scratch his head with his foot again.

Aberfeldy nodded. "We'd need to be careful, though," he mused out loud, "we'd have to travel undercover, provide an travel alias for a freighter… and tread especially lightly around the Adeptus Mechanius… they are vicious serpents when stirred."

He turned to his retinue, a slight gleam in his eyes. "Gentlemen, I believe we have a job to do…"




Six months passed.

All known Halo devices had been quarantined by a skeleton crew fleet, enough to delay enemy fleets long enough to call for reinforcements, but no enemy tried to use one.

Without the Tau and Eldar incursions into Imperium space, reinforcements could be supplied to chokehold systems, primarily Cadia and Armageddon, supplying the weary defenders with much-needed support. Slowly, but surely know that they had superiority in numbers, the Imperium began to beat back the enemies from these systems.

Multiple slash-and-burn campaigns drove the Feral Orks from the Armageddon jungles, where Marines from the Crimson Fists waited for them with steel and bullets, eager for scapegoats for the Rynn's world atrocity.

Multiple cults around the Eye of Terror had been hunted down by the Exorcists Chapter, burning heretics and anarchists alive before they could perform their nefarious deeds. Grey Knights aped their brethren from the White Scars Chapter by performing hit-and-run attacks on several daemon-infested ships and planets.

For the first time in a millennia, the Imperium was entering a time of stability.

And so, over the lead-dulled skies of Necromunda, the first ships of the Crusade of Enlightenment arranged, according to the wishes of the Inquisitors…




Battleship Smite thine Enemy, satellite-range orbit of Necromunda.

Commander Oran Mor looked over the deck of the Emperor-class battleship, Smite thine Enemy, and felt his chest swell with martial pride. Everywhere he looked, he saw preparation for a great crusade. Over there, men checked munitions and armour for the soldiers while officers led their men through military drills.

There was the sound of a thousand engines activating as Tech-Priests walked among the innumerable tanks of the Armoured Fists platoon, their servitors checking the efficiency of the vehicles. A nod from the leading Enginseer, and the engines were switched off.

A rating ran up to him, handing a data-slate to him from a ridiculously over-sized pile before running off, trying to ensure the whole tower didn't fall over.

He briefly scanned the data-slate, which displayed a list of munitions which had just been delivered. He switched it off and put it in his breast pocket, intending to read it later. Right now, he had had more important things to do.


Mor looked around sharply at the sound, seeing a rather portly woman holding herself up arrogantly. He quickly ran his eyes over her. No medals, no rank… his suspicions grew. "What do you want?"

The woman glared at him in annoyance. "I'm here as a representative of Inquisitor Karamazov," she snapped angrily, holding out a small trinket on the end of a chain, "he wishes to know how the military arrangement is performing."

Mor peered at the swinging object, his eyes widening slowly as he took it in. A silver skull with a ruby eye, superimposed over a gothic capital 'I'… the sign of the Inquisition! He quickly stood to attention and saluted. "Yes Ma'am!" he said quickly, fear adding a haste to his words. "All desired platoons have reported back saying they can provide us with the troops requested. Already we have thirty legions arranged, and the remaining twenty are on their way here!"

The woman chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "I see… what about the Adeptus Astartes? Have you heard any word from them?"

Mor swallowed fretfully, his adam's apple bobbing ridiculously. "We… uh… sent our request to the proposed Chapters, but it is not required of them to… reply… to…" He trailed off, feeling himself get smaller under the woman's glare.

The woman sighed. "I'm glad to see you are at least honest." She reached into a bag she held by her side, and handed him a thin, silver-lined data-slab. "You don't need to worry, Commander," she said, a condescending smile causing her eyes to narrow, "we received news of the Adeptus Astartes reinforcements. There's no need to worry about us executing you for gross misconduct." Another smile, this time showing white, crooked teeth. "We were just curious as to whether or not they responded to you."

Mor shook his head quickly, looking over the data-slab as quickly as he dared. He looked up, confusion etching his features into a frown. "I was under the impression, Ma'am, that there were going to be forces from certain chapters."

The woman shrugged. "Unfortunately, the Adeptus Astartes have unanimously voted against sending a large contingent of their forces on one crusade, so we have had to reach the quota of Space Marines by levying from more chapters then previously planned.

Mor scanned the list presented. "Blood Angels… Blood Ravens… Red Scorpions… The Imperial Fists… The Raven Guard… The Raptors…" he closed his eyes and groaned silently as he read the next Chapter. "The Marines Malevolent…" His eyes tracked the remainder of the list, and he looked at the last force listed in confusion. "A contingent of Deathwatch Marines?"

Again the woman shrugged. "We have had the servants of the Ordos Xenos inspect alien equipment. Coupled with their natural alien-fighting abilities, they seemed the perfect choice."

Mor shrugged in deference. "When will these forces arrive?" He asked politely.

"Soon." The woman started to walk off.

"What precisely is 'soon'?"

"You'll find out."

Mor sighed in annoyance as the woman vanished into the throng of Guardsmen and looked back at the data-slab. His finger lightly tapped against the Marines Malevolent as the drills continued around him, and his face twisted into a scowl.




In high orbit over Mars, the Covenant vessel, The Revelations, was caged in the orbital stations of the Adeptus Mechanius. Ships flew around the cruiser like flies circling a corpse, depositing supplies and Xeno-scientists to crawl around in its insides. The Inquisitors had all but thrown a quarantine around the vessel, but supplies still had to be delivered through to the Tech-priests and Enginseers.




Xenos Analysis Orbital Station no. IV, high orbit of Mars.

Aberfeldy looked up at the sound of the boarding siren, then motioned for the rest of his retinue to hold onto something as the cargo container they had stowed away was deposited in the cargo hold of the Adeptus Mechanius orbital station which had temporarily stored The Revelations in dry dock. There was the dull 'clank' sound a taste of burning tin as the container was magnetically locked onto the deck of the cargo hold. A few moments passed, the sound of unloading continuing around them. Slowly the noises filtered away, leaving them in silence. Minutes passed, leaving the retinue standing in darkness.

There was a high pitched burning sound, and a plasma-arc torch activated outside the container. The sound became deeper as the torch began to cut through the metal door separating the container from the hold. Thelonius slipped on a pair of darkened goggles as white-blue sparks sprayed into their hiding place.

The sound reached its original high pitch as the torch drew back, then deactivated. There was shuffling, then the make-shift door was pulled away from the hidden retinue.

The cutter-servitor stood back sporadically, its cutting arm lowered, making it look ridiculously over-sized compared to the rest of its body. Two gun-servitors stood slightly behind it, heavy bolters lowered at the group inside, and behind them stood Tech-priest Youngman.

"Greetings, Inquisitor Aberfeldy." the priest said in a synthetic voice. "I trust your trip was pleasant."

Aberfeldy pursed his lips in annoyance at the little quip Youngman made. "I was under the impression that your kind didn't allow jokes, Youngman."

"No joke was meant, Inquisitor Aberfeldy." The servitors backed off to do different tasks, accompanied by the hissing sound of their hydraulic limbs. "How may we be of service."

Aberfeldy and his gang walked out of the container, Thelonius still wearing his goggles and shuddering slightly, Ibrahim looking impassive and Styx covered with heavy robes, his mutations hidden from view.

"I desire to see what data you have extracted from the alien vessel," No beating around the bush, eh? Youngman thought, "I am on a mission to retrieve extra data for the Holy Orders of the Emperor's Inquisition so that we may decide upon the appropriate course of action."

Youngman's digital stare seemed to harden. "I was under the impression that the data needed was retrieved by Inquisitor Krypmann over half a year ago." He paused, and linked himself up to the Mars mainframe. "Yes, my suspicions were correct. We have detailed files on Inquisitor Krypmann's visit."

"Yes, of course Inquisitor Krypmann retrieved information concerning these aliens," Aberfeldy replied, feeling a droplet of sweat trickle down a powdered temple. "However, it was decided that more data was required before any action was taken concerning this new Xenos."

Youngman gazed levelly at Aberfeldy. "It took you twenty-six weeks to decide you needed more information."

Aberfeldy squirmed slightly. "There was a schism in the Inquisitorial conclave – we needed several juries to decide that we needed more information to decide the appropriate action."

"Why did Inquisitor Krypmann not come here again." Youngman asked.

"Krypmann was needed to resolve a crisis concerning another Xenos upsurge," Aberfeldy lied, "I was the only Inquisitor not occupied, and so it was decided that I should go."

"Then why did you opt to travel discreetly."

Aberfledy raised his eyes in false exasperation Damnation! If he asks me any more questions, he'll smoke me out! "Surely you of all people can appreciate the fact that the Inquisition is not a unified force, and that there are more unscrupulous forces who would try to stop me." He smiled insincerely, trying to quell his rising heart rate.

Youngman continued to stare, then nodded slowly. "Acceptable." He turned slowly, indicating that the group should follow. Aberfeldy looked at the rest of his group; Ibrahim impassive, Styx eager and Thelonius apprehensive.

He nodded at them, and followed the figure of the Tech-priest.




Captured Xenos ship, The Revelations.

"The ship is similar in technological advancement as the Tau, except for a few discrepancies." Youngman explained. "They both depend upon plasma technology to power themselves, but this ship seems dependent on using plasma-based weaponry whereas the Tau may utilise other types of weapons, i.e. railgun technology and guided missiles."

"Also like the Tau, this ship is dependant on field technology to protect it from projectiles. It is not as heavily armoured – physically speaking – as one of our ships or one of the more crude Xenos species ships. The entire ship seems to be made of an ultra-dense alloy, almost as strong as adamantium, but it seems to be more malleable as you can see by the curved and rounded bulkheads and doors"

Aberfeldy walked along with Youngman, nodding but not actual listening to the man's monotone drone. Only Thelonius seemed to be interested in what the man had to say, as if he had to remember the facts later on for an exam.

"As you can see as we exit this door," Youngman continued "that we have entered what appears to be a hanger of sorts." An implant-studded arm gestured at the area around them. "Here we found multiple craft designed for space and air-combat. Most were destroyed in the ensuing battle, but some were preserved for analysis by our servitors." Youngman's hand swept across the men-machines tearing out and inspecting alien technology.

On and on Youngman droned on about the 'fascinating' alien metals, energy sources, magnetic fields and signals used for everyday shipboard tasks… Already Styx looked as if he was about to fall asleep, and Aberfeldy felt lethargy in his arms.

"Begging your pardon, Youngman," Aberfeldy started in a careful manner, "but we were sent by the Inquisition for a specific piece of information. As fascinating as all this data is…"

"What do you wish to see."

Aberfeldy pursed his lips. "I'd like to see if the aliens had any information concerning the 'Halo' network."

Youngman paused for a second, then slowly nodded. "Very well Inquisitor. I will show you the alien database."




Xenos languages/ciphers decoding chamber I.

"Here you will find the alien database we have managed to decipher so far." Youngman grated, leading the group into a large, circular room. Brainless docu-servitors were mindlessly translating alien texts over and over again. "Most information appears to be related to the heathen's false Gods, but there have been a few interesting nuggets of information. Access to the database is gained via these," Youngman indicated to a few screens on the wall, "terminals."

Aberfeldy walked up to one terminal and activated it. Harsh text in a garish green lit up his misshapen face and the information began to scroll at a mind-numbing pace.

"I will leave you to your research. Please contact me when you have finished your analysis." Youngman bowed as much as he could, then left the room.




Youngman walked outside of the chamber, hearing the gear-shaped door grind into place, then lock. He nodded to himself, then linked to the Mars mainframe via his MIU.

Access to Communication Net History requested; Identification code: Youngman, Priest order of third-class. Password: Deus ex Machina.

…Access granted…

Request access to Guest; Inquisitor Kypmann's last messages.

…Access denied; message encrypted, Encryption Type: Classified – Dark Omega level required to access requested data files.

Youngman cursed silently, then tried a new tactic.

Request access for listings for outgoing messages one hundred and eighty standard days ago.

…Access granted…

5,032,457 messages sent, list of messages Y/N?


Identify messages sent with encrypted contents, encryption type classified with Dark Omega level classification.

Complying… Searching…

… A total of 1 message(s) was/were found.

Display properties of message.



Message Subject: Classified – Dark Omega level

To: Inquisitorial High Court, Terra, Segmentum Solar

From: Guest; Inquisitor Kypmann

Data Type: Text – Identified as High Gothic

Contents: Encrypted

Encryption Type: Classified – Dark Omega level

Request identification code required to overcome Dark Omega classification

Complying… Searching…

Identification code needed to overcome Dark Omega classification is Inquisitor.

Youngman paused, then thought again…

Requesting Guest list one hundred and eighty standard days ago.

Complying… Searching…

Guest list found.

Find Inquisitor Krypmann profile.

Complying… Searching…

Profile found.

Display profile properties.



Identification No. of Profile: 0147823

Identification of Guest: Inquisitor Krypmann

Business of Guest: Information retrieval

Password of Guest: &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

No. of messages sent by Guest: 1

Profile activity: Non-existent.

Request Identification Code of Guest Profile: 0147823.

Password required

Enter password Y/N?


Request Password of Guest Profile: 0147823.

Request denied, Password encrypted with nonadecimal-encryption code.

Request nonadecimal-encryption key; Identification code: Youngman, Priest order of third-class. Password: Deus ex Machina.


Encryption key granted.

Youngman smiled slightly underneath his hood.

Un-encrypt password of Guest Profile: 0147823.


Password of Guest Profile: 0147823 un-encrypted.

Display password.

Password of Guest: 4785360.

Request Identification Code of Guest Profile: 0147823.

Password required

Enter password Y/N?



Identification Code of Guest Profile: Inquisitor

Copy Identification Code into blank data slateidentify as Inquisitorprofile. File under personal data of Tech-priest Youngman; Identification code: Youngman, Priest order of third-class. Password: Deus ex Machina.


Copying complete.

Request access to Guest; Inquisitor Kypmann's last messages.

Access denied; message encrypted, Encryption Type: Classified – Dark Omega level required to access requested data files.

Identify Encryption Type; Identification code: Inquisitor Krypmann, contents of file 'Inquisitorprofile'. Password: 4785360.

Dark Omega level classification overridden… complying…

Encryption type: nonadecimal-encryption code.

Un-encrypt message.


Message un-encrypted.


Message Subject: Classified – Dark Omega level

To: Inquisitorial High Court, Terra, Segmentum Solar

From: Guest; Inquisitor Kypmann

Data Type: Text – Identified as High Gothic

Contents: Un-encrypted

Encryption Type: nonadecimal-encryption code.

Information retrieved from alien vessel sufficient for conclave to commence rulings concerning new Xenos threat to the Imperium, request instant reply, will leave Mars as soon as possible.

Log-out of Communication Net History.

Youngman shuddered slightly as his MIU deactivated, and his senses adjusted to the reality among them. He thought over what he had just read, and remembered Aberfeldy's claim when they had met…

we needed several juries to decide that we needed more information to decide the appropriate action."

He activated his MIU again.

Request access to Xenos Analysis Orbital Station no. IV Security, Emergency authorisation…