Fallen Angels

Captain Darryl's expression darkened completely.

Chen Xi could sense the sudden tension in the other man's psychic field, its sharpness like a sword about to leave its sheath.

He could even faintly hear the subtle pressure sounds from the servos of the man's Power Armor as his muscles tensed in an instant.

He was almost certain that Darryl's hand beneath the table was now resting on the grip of his Bolt Pistol.

"Inquisitor," Darryl said, his tone turning cold and forceful like a polar wind, "what you have just mentioned falls within the scope of highly classified military operation details and war zone intelligence."

"I do not know through what... unofficial channels you acquired these fragments of information, but this has gone far beyond the boundaries of normal intelligence exchange and directly touches upon the internal security affairs of the Adeptus Astartes."

He leaned forward slightly, bringing with him an invisible but powerful sense of oppression.

"I must solemnly remind you that any inquiry into the internal defenses and operations of the Adeptus Astartes, especially matters related to the Dark Angels lineage, is an exceedingly sensitive and risky matter."

"It could very well provoke... serious misunderstandings that neither of us wishes to see."

Faced with this near-tangible hostility and explicit warning, Chen Xi instead relaxed and leaned back against the cushion of his high-backed chair.

A placating, somewhat helpless smile appeared on his face.

"Captain Darryl, please calm yourself. I assure you, my original intention was never to 'pry.'"

He skillfully used his status and choice of words, trying to defuse the tense atmosphere.

"On the contrary, I am expressing my personal 'concern' and hoping to provide whatever assistance may be possible on that basis."

"You may regard this conversation as an... informal security consultation from the Inquisition, rooted in