Maj Anderson sorted through the various reports from his dealings. An Airborne Ranger trained up here, a Free Marine there. Small potatoes to be sure but they told his clients that he fulfilled his contracts. That and he addressed any shortcomings quickly. He mentally winced at the thought of his most recent incident. He had miscommunicated the status of a purchase with his Bauhaus customer, a Kaptain Spitzentritt. The Major’s poor choice of words had let to a misunderstanding that had almost ruined the exchange; he had violated the most basic precept when working with the Bauhausers—choose your words very carefully. Fortunately he had been able to make amends and the merchandise had arrived safely. Kaptain Spitzentritt would have the replacement Strike Skimmer he needed so that the Revisors would stay off of him, and Major Anderson would have have his continued business. Still, it was one of his few legitimate business deals, and as such he strived to maintain it. The training center was doing well, and with the assumed demise of Captain Nelson (damn if the man’s body had yet to be found—no one walked unaided through fifty kilometers of hard Venusian Jungle and lived to talk about it. Yes, the Bauhausers were the only thing that could not come back to haunt him.
His service to the Dark Apostles was another matter completely. He had managed to serve all five, and serve them well, and was about to celebrate getting them off of his back for the time being so that he could focus on Mishima when dark shadows fell across him.
“We are not done with you yet, pawn…” a familiar voice hissed.
Immediately Anderson fell to the floor in obeisance.
“How-how can I serve you now my masters?”
Another voice answered, “He knows we are not done with him. There is hope for him yet.”
A third voice chimed in, “You serve us still. There is still a price to be paid.”
“But-but I gave you all you asked for! Blight Commandoes, Karnophages, Screaming Legionnaires!”
The second voice spoke “But not Heretics! I need heretics…and dissidents!”
The third voice joined in lamentation, “And Spawns. My lord needs Spawns to lead the servants you brought him!”
The first voice became louder, “And more Screaming Legionnaires!”
“More?”
“Bring us more…more…more,” all three voices sang together, “More…more…more…and power shall be yours…” and faded out.
For a long time, Anderson sat on the floor shaken. Suddenly, he began to laugh. Yes, it would be nothing.
Meanwhile, at an obscure Bauhaus Heimburg Military Depot, a young man was having to explain himself.
“So Kapitan Spitzentritt,” the Recitor began, “explain to me exactly why the serial numbers on your Strike Skimmer don’t match those on our Table of Equipment.”
Years of discipline enforced by the homebuilders kept him from allowing his desperation to break though. “Gentlmen, I am not sure the origin of the error. I have the requisite number of vehicles in the motor pool, each is up to Bauhaus standard in maintenance. Surely it is a clerical mistake on the part of the record keeper. We need only update the forms-“
“Silence!” the inspecting officer spat. “We are Bauhaus. We do not make clerical errors. Certainly, none this egregious. Because I am an old friend of your father, I am willing to allow you this one chance to come clean and not dishonor your house further.” The young man seemed ready to resist for a moment, then came clean.
Colonel Stein sat across from the inquisitor, subtle beads of perspiration forming on his brown. The Colonel had nothing to fear-he was a just and pious man, but sitting in the presence of the inquisition was enough to make any man doubt his piety.
“You may begin.” Inquisitor Graham offered.
“It would seem that there was an unfortunate accident in one of the swamps to the south of Exercise Area B. Two vehicles collided and although the crews escape unharmed, the integrity of one of the skimmers’ hulls was breached and it sank. They must have been going at quite a clip for that to have happened.”
“Of course,” the Inquisitor replied in a tone that beckoned the Colonel to get to the point.
“Ahem, of course. Since there were no injuries and because he was worried that the loss would reflect negatively on his maintenance department, our good Kaptain inquired on the open market for a replacement, rather then through the proper channels. He was able to obtain this model in good repair from VeezCon, who apparently deals in used war materiel.”
“Apparently. There is no sign of overt corruption, but I would like my staff to speak with the young man at length.”
The Colonel blanched at the though of what “at length” meant and was about to protest but something in the Inquisitor’s eyes said otherwise.
“Of course. Is there anything I need to know regarding these circumstances?”
“You know all you need to know. You may go. The Kaptain shall be returned to you shortly, assuming no taint of heresy has been found on him.”
Graham watched the colonel leave and turned to his assistant. “Have the Kaptain prepared.”
The assistant nodded and asked, “Do you believe his story sir?”
Graham pursed his lips and stroked his goatee thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes, I am sure this is one of VeezCon’s ‘legitimate’ operations and that the Kaptain Spitzentritt is merely a dupe. The vehicle shows no sign of being corrupt in and of itself. However, VeezCon would have been wise to not to sell a unit that was reported lost in the Thousand Skulls Massacre. One must wonder how it was that they were able to obtain this equipment when the Darkness frequently corrupts it for its own needs. It is time we kept a sharper eye on their operations.”
Meanwhile, on the edges of the Venusian jungle, a ragged man stepped from the trees.
