The Wheel of Time Begins to Turn1,240 words

Y'all is not a conjunction of "You All" but rather an archaic form of English equivalent to the Spanish vosotros

It has come to my attention that there are numerous holes within the Cain Archive, many of which Cain seems to have either refused to record, or simply wished to pushed them from his mind. The events surrounding his only visit to Crius, a planet he would have otherwise never seen, and only came because I felt Jurgen's abilities as a blank would have been most useful to apprehend the rogue psyker Dorosa had called the Burned Man, had remained largely unmentioned. Thankfully, they have been recovered, and I have taken the liberty of compiling them for use by the Inquisition, as the meetings and battles therein contain useful information on many of the Imperium's greatest foes.

As always, I'll provide extra information as needed.

Inquisitor Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos.

@#@#@# Cain's POV @#@#@#

On the whole, I cared very little for the talk Amberley and I shared with the psyker and his cohort, Lyra. The whole situation made my palms itch, not the least could be attributed to the menacing woman that was Lord Inquisitor Dorosa. It didn't help that I was painfully close to the man who had slain a Chaos Space Marine not a month prior, and had more than recovered, no doubt stronger for the experience.1 He carried his pistol and sword on the same hip, so he used them in unison much like myself, though I feel my laspistol was the more useful, as his seemed to hold at most, six rounds of solid ammunition before it needed to be reloaded. 2

When the sanctioned psyker walked in and shared a conversation with the Burned Man3, I found myself preparing for a fight, though the two stormtroopers with hellguns eased my nerves a bit. Then, the Burned Man has her convinced taking us to a local shooting range would be a good idea, not that I minded a bit of target practice here and again; it merely seemed a bit odd that he felt the need to vent aggression4 on cutouts.

“A wager, commissar?” he asked, looking to me for a brief time, before closing his eyes5 and slipping his mask on. His voice remained clear, unaugmented by vox systems as I would expect, and I admit it was like seeing a tau-made pict screen; it seemed almost too perfect to have been made by human hands, with none of the tinniness I associated with techpriests or Space Marines. I found myself slightly unnerved by it all, but obviously didn't show such infinitesimal discomfort in the face of the enemy. “A gentleman's bet to keep things interesting?”

“That depends,” I answered, Thinking I could outmatch him with the number of lasbolts my pistol could put downrange. “I don't wish to rob you of anything you find precious.” That was a lie; I really couldn't have cared if he lost anything valuable to me, but I also didn't wish to bet my chainsword and be duty-bound as a hero of the Imperium to relinquish it.

“Relax, commissar; we packed light,” Lyra said, leaning towards us as we entered the weapon shop. Given that she had, as of then, done nothing to indicate she was his aide, I was under the impression she and the Burned Man were involved. Her armor, much like his, was black, though hers seemed to be made of some sort of leather whereas the Burned Man's looked to be ceramite.6 Call me old-fashioned, but I felt it best for wealthy people to keep their courtesans well-dressed, even if the darkened leather accentuated certain assets. “Taylor means money.”

“Right I do,” the Burned Man said, lifting a small sack. He produced a gold coin from within, twirling it about his fingers to make it glint as the shop owner and Amos looked at him like he was mad. “What do you suppose the exchange rate is for solid gold?”

@#@#@# Taylor's POV @#@#@#

Throne on Earth! Is that entire pouch full of those coins?

There must be fifty or more in that bag. Is he showing off his wealth or legitimately asking about how much money he has?

Why the fuck am I not being paid for this? He's got the coinage for it.

Pfft. They're impressed by sixty bits. Maybe everything here is cheap or something?

“It's fairly high for pure gold,” Amberley said after a moment. She wasn't outwardly impressed by any means, but Cain seemed astonished. Gold for about eight hundred credits per gram on Crius, partly due to a serious lack of it anywhere but the lower mantle, and the planet's ecosystems were too valuable to mine that deep.

“I'll give you three lasguns for that coin, sir,” the shopkeeper said, looking either nervous or aroused at the sight of our motley little bunch. Amos didn't even need to tell me I was being ripped off, given that the coin was worth at least a dozen of the sturdy rifles. “How much is in the bag, my lord?”

“Two point one kilograms, if you must know,” Lyra answered for me, looking positively disgusted a worker would dare speak to me directly. She was, of course, acting; truthfully, she was incredibly excited to be speaking to so many humans in one day, especially ones born far from Equestria. The man recoiled and bowed his head, apologizing in what I imagined was a language from before Crius rejoined the Imperium. “Surely, a coin weighing thirty-five grams is worth more than three lasguns?”

“My sincerest apologies, milady,” he squeaked, knowing his treachery had been discovered. He knew Vail was an inquisitor, and Cain was a commissar, so he was made to believe Lyra and I were important enough to warrant such company.

“You could buy this entire block, Taylor; just tell him what you're looking for,” Amos grunted, looking none too pleased with our theatrics. Psy-134 seemed slightly amused, no doubt accustomed to the fear being a psyker generated, and happy to see me using money to reach the same.

“I can see your master is a discerning customer, milady,” the merchant said as he returned to the front, carrying a wooden crate that smelled like fine gun oils and incense. He opened it, and set a large bundle of cloth on the counter, waving us close, as though the very thought of exposing the weapon to direct light was an act of heresy against the Emperor Himself. It was a bolter, smaller than those used by the Space Marines, which meant it once belonged to a Sororitas who had died, and her weapons had been stolen. “This holy boltgun has seen combat on over a dozen words, slain hundreds of the Imperium's enemies.”

“It is also in dire need of proper cleaning, and maybe a few part replacements,” I replied, knowing a shitty gun when I saw it. With work, it could have been amazing, but as it sat, it looked like it had been sitting in moist air for too long, if the bits of rust along the barrel and grips were anything to go by. “I trust cleaning supplies and ammunition are included in the cost?”

“I have the local techpriests inspect it every month; it will fire without delay,” he assured me, producing a receipt for the repair rituals. Evidently, he'd skipped on the polish, but if an enginseer said it was cleared to fire, who was I to say otherwise? “So, I take it you are clear for payment?”

“The Inquisition will cover this, shopkeep.”

Author's Note:

1) Likely exaggeration on Cain's part, given that he was used to seeing strange mutants and aliens by then. Perhaps the idea of a human who grew stronger after every battle seemed possible, but it seems more likely that he meant Taylor's combat skills.
2) A statement Cain tends to make during his memoirs. He preferred his laspistol to the bolt pistols commonly used by other commissars because they carried more shots per battery than bolt pistols could in a clip, and can be recharged in the field.
3) Cain never really grew fond of Taylor, and seemed to use every chance he could find to call him the Burned Man, rather than his name.
4) I don't recall much aggression from anyone that day, to be honest, aside from the two Ordo Malleus inquisitors who seemed rather more occupied with punishing Dahl and Ohpidia than finding the truth.
5) Cain and I noticed several times that Taylor always closed his eyes when putting his mask on, presumably a reflex to keep dust or other irritants out of his eyes. Upon examination some weeks later, I found that his mask lacked lenses on either side, and upon questioning, he told me his armor link directly into is brain via the connection port in the back of his skull. The off-white portions apparently reacted to light reflected onto it by the environment, including fair portions of the ultraviolet and infrared spectra.
6) Personally, I thought it looked more like wraithbone, given its luster and apparently light weight.

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