INQUISITORIAL DUTIES
Seraph Seraphsdottior does not only investigate the FDEF
Inquisitor Seraph Seraphsdottior swirled the whiskey in her glass. She sat at a simple wooden table in a plainly furnished room. Some inquisitors use their power, wealth, and connections to sit themselves at the seat of luxury while they dispense the emperor's Justice and mercy. She does not. This is a simple room for meetings with her retinue, anytime it was not in use in such a fashion it frequently also served as the location that she took her meals while aboard her personal ship.
She took a small sip and the burning liquid passed down her throat. She's not alone this night. There is another individual just sitting across the table from her. They are garbed in the black and red robes of ruined and dead forge world. They have a mixing of augments in disrepair and hastily done repairs. They appear to be as disarmed as they can be. A humble laz pistol sat in front of the inquisitor.
“You were incredibly difficult to track down. Almost impossible, but not quite impossible.”
After what seems like eons of silence the robbed figure is the first to speak. A grating static filled robotic voice barks through. “To what do I own this honor Inquisitor?”
“Fedumamil Ronrok, Reflexive Disciple of the Virtual Cloister of Gryphonne IV, you sit here charged with three counts of technoheresy, six counts of murder, and twenty seven false cases of unlawful servitization.”
The cables on the tech priest seemed to tighten. “I have never once engaged in technoheresy!”
“Do you not deny the other counts?”
“I was an archmagos back on Gryphonne IV. All acts I did there were under the preview of the laws of that forge world and of Mars! You have no authority over me, Inquisitor.”
“There are three main branches of technoheresy.” Seraph picks up the laz pistol and lets her flesh eye drift down so look at it. Her augmented eye does not stray. “You learned them as an adept, what are they?”
The Reflexive Disciple takes a moment. “Innovation, xenos tech, and warpcraft.”
A ghost of the thought of a smile graces Seraph’s lips. “Good. Which is the least dangerous advising to standard doctrine.”
“Innovations. When done within and with human holy technology it might be permissible.”
“The second?”
“Xenos tech. It leads to bewitchment and spiritless machines.”
At the mention of the xenarite creed Seraph pulled out a screwdriver. She put down the laz pistol and put the other hand in her lap. Her hand remained there. “And warpcraft?”
“I do not know Inquisitor, such a thing was always beyond my ken. Damnation and rust was what I was taught.”
Seraph nodded. “Back on Gryphonne IV before the hive fleet emerged, what was your specialty? Your dominion, what did you do?”
“No doubt you already know, Inquisitor.” There was a higher percentage of static in their voice. Disruption and decay of the vocal processors.
“Yes. I do.” Screwdriver in hand she gestured at the pistol. “You were in charge of the creation of these weren't you?”
“The Gryphonne IV Pattern Semiautomatic Laz Pistol, we made it for the Imperial Guard and any planetary defense forces that needed the supply.”
“You were in charge of that factorum,” she already knew the answer but she asked anyway. Seraph never pounced without all of the information she could acquire.“How many planets received the pistols and rifles that you were in charge of producing?”
The techpriest took a moment to answer, as if their cogitators had corroded with the rest of their appearance. “Seventeen Inquisitor, and in case you ask three units of the Astra Militarum.”
Seraph took another sip of her drink, the burning red of her augment shining against her black skin. She did not need the soldier's courage to do her job but it helped her keep from shouting in the furry that so often damned others of her job. “Seventeen planets and three units then that you damned. You never asked what you stood here charged with. I charge you with technoheresy or warpcaft.”
As she was speaking she had used the flathead screwdriver to pry the laz pistol open. Instead of the usual machinery that would fill the interior of one of the most common weapons of the Imperium, there was puss and low pulsing of fetid fungal flesh fused with metal.
The priest shot up and lunged at Seraph. It shocked the Inquisitor, she had been right and knew most of what was happening when she had invited the Heretic but followers of the plague father were not that fast. Cornered dogs were often the most dangerous.
It didn't matter.
Seraph was faster and more importantly prepared. Her hand shot up from under the table and as Fedumamil Ronrok tried to approach, a pistol in her own hand flared to life and in a wreath of blue fire engulfed the renegade tech priest and destroyed their head in mere seconds. Volkite was dangerous but useful. Fedumamil Ronrok died on that spot and burned the table they had lunged on. Luckily the laz pistol burst into the volkite flames too. No words of condemnation were needed. They both knew the adept’s crimes.
Seraph just sighed and pressed a button on her belt. “Magos Hierro-17, please come in”
After a few minutes a much cleaner tech priest of the same forgeworld had stepped into the room. “Yes Lady Inquisitor?” this priest had a more nervous disposition and was seemingly covered in purity seals.
“Please request a new table and enact proper disposal procedures. “
“Of course Lady Inquisitor.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
Seraph smiled. “Thank you for informing me of your brother's actions.”