Are you prepared to die for me?
“Aye, Inquisitor.” There was no need for further discussion or prevarication; she reloaded Permanence and quietly breathed a prayer commending her soul to the Emperor's mercy, and without another word she was gone.
Are you prepared to die for me?
At full sprint, she ran towards the great wall of the compound, pressing herself against the grey rockcrete. She moved along the edge of the edifice, sarissa leading the way through the hot, smoke-heavy air as she peered around the corner of a large buttress. Across a loading bay, a heavy gate was open, two crossed blades embossed around the middle where the two doors met. Further along the wall, an almost-empty motorpool lay unguarded, with only a pair of soldiers sharing a joke beside a burning barrel, their hands oustretched for warmth – and importantly, their attention away from the party of the faithful approaching step-by-step.
Are you prepared to kill for me?
“Wait for my signal,” whispered Lisbeth, taking two more short steps toward the gate. She peered over into the rear entrance, eyes darting from point to point. In the shadows, behind a stack of barrels in a pool of oil, out of sight – the perfect place to hide and plan the next move. She was all set to go when the voice gave an order she did not expect.
Kill them. Lisbeth found herself levelling Permanence at the two guards, her finger stroking the trigger. It would be easy – two bursts and both would be dead before they even heard the gunshot. It would be the simplest of things to do – and so little to do in return for the Emperor's eternal grace and love.
Kill them. She hesitated. The Inquisitor, the instrument of His will, had made it clear that this was to be a quiet entry. But He was countermanding the order, and now Lisbeth was faced with two mutually exclusive commands. This was not her place – her role was to obey, not to decide which orders she liked. She breathed out of her nostrils, emptying her lungs, and curled her finger around-
BrrrrrrrkkkkKKHHHAAAOOOOOOSH
To the east, a huge explosion rocked the hive, and the two guards ducked behind one of the trucks, out of sight. The decision, it seemed, had been made for her. Las-bolts and gunfire rattled through the hot, metallic air, and unable to complete one set of orders, Lisbeth settled for the other. “Quickly, follow.” Sprinting, she dashed half the way to the waste barrels and slid across the garage floor, tracking her robe through the oil and muck as she went. She looked back over her shoulder and waved the stragglers over, mumbling a faint “my apologies,” though to whom she was unsure.
Are you prepared to die for me?
