"According to your promotion records and supplementary investigation, you were appointed District Seven's 'Anomalous Organism Inspector' on M41.998.12.21."
"And before this appointment, credible intelligence indicated that you maintained close ties with a local group known as the 'Anvil Society,'
and in practice provided cover for some of its illegal activities."
Lynn's fingers curled slightly against his knees, his nails pressing into his palms.
He seemed to have already guessed what Cassius would say next.
Cassius continued, every word bitterly cold: "During this period, and after assuming your position as inspector,
your operational team and the Anvil Society associated with you regularly collected large quantities of various kinds of 'Xenos remains,'
particularly tissue samples from Genestealers and related Xenos.
Such conduct far exceeded the requirements of routine research or evidence preservation."
The white helmet tilted forward slightly, its dark red lenses seeming ready to burn into the depths of Lynn's soul:
"Provide a logical explanation, Lynn, 'Inspector.'"
Cold sweat instantly soaked Lynn's back once again.
At some point, the chair's metal armrests had become impossibly slippery. He could not get a firm grip on them.
He had not expected their investigation to go so deep, into such detail.
This was what he most feared having discovered: his collection of Xenos materials.
It was absolutely forbidden ground, so he had been painstakingly careful every time, falsifying ledgers and killing the subordinates responsible for transport.
He had thought he had been cautious enough.
But faced with a systematic investigation by a being such as a Space Marine, the flaws had still been unearthed.
His Adam's apple bobbed as his mind raced.
Deny it? Pointless.
His collusion with a gang was an established fact, and it was not particularly serious anyway.
As for collecting Xenos samples...
He had to offer a reason the other man could "understand," perhaps even "tacitly accept" to some extent.
He forced a bitter smile onto his face, mingling embarrassment, helplessness, and a trace of reckless resignation.
He lowered his voice a little as well, as though revealing some shameful secret:
"My lord angel, nothing escapes your scrutiny.
This was indeed a grave dereliction of my duties, and a measure I was forced to take by the realities of the Hive City."
He raised his head to meet those red lenses, striving to put candid remorse into his eyes:
"You know what conditions are like in the lower levels.
'Anomalous Organism Inspector' sounds impressive, but funding, equipment, personnel-we're constrained at every turn.
The Adeptus Arbites has limited resources and often cannot spare attention for these 'secondary threats.'
And those Xenos remains, particularly relatively intact organs, carapaces, and glands..."
He paused, lowering his voice further. "Fetch considerable prices through certain research channels."
Seeing that Cassius appeared entirely unmoved, he steeled himself and continued, making "greed" and "necessity" his central themes:
"The Anvil Society does indeed have close ties with me, but I have never colluded with them to do anything that harmed the Imperium's interests."
"And that gray income from selling Xenos samples went toward filling the patrol team's equipment shortfalls and improving its members' pay and morale.
To make them work harder at clearing out mutant dens that genuinely threatened civilians.
I know this violated Imperial law, but at the bottom, sometimes you have no choice."
By the end, he sounded almost a little self-mocking.
"Otherwise, my lord, surely you don't think I collected those disgusting things to... keep other Xenos?"
With that, he spread his hands in a gesture that said, "That's how things are. There's nothing I can do about it."
Silence fell over the warehouse once again.
Cassius's white helmet remained motionless, with only the scanner's faint light sweeping back and forth over Lynn.
Analyzing his every physiological response, evaluating the chain of logic in his words.
Lynn's heart pounded like a drum, but he forced himself to maintain that expression of "admitting fault, but with mitigating circumstances."
He knew that Space Marines, particularly warriors of the Iron Hands lineage, were unusually obsessed with "efficiency" and "practicality."
Pure moral fastidiousness was not their foremost consideration.
As long as his actions could be placed within
"expedient, controllable gray-area measures adopted to achieve an objective more efficiently,"
that category, he might have a chance to live.
Time ticked by, second after second.
At last, Cassius's level, uninflected voice sounded again:
"Your vital-sign data indicates signs of deliberate control during your statement.
Your heart rate, respiratory rate, and skin resistance all showed abnormal fluctuations."
Lynn's heart sank.
But what Cassius said next almost made him doubt his ears:
"However, the logical chain of your explanation is largely complete, and consistent with the patterns of corruption and expediency prevalent in the Hive City's lower levels.
At present, there is no direct evidence that your conduct went beyond the scope of 'using illegal resources to support official duties.'
Or that it was connected to heretical beliefs or willingly siding with Xenos."
"You are provisionally cleared of suspicion of 'knowingly sheltering heretics' or 'maintaining a relationship with Xenos beyond exploitation.'"
Lynn nearly failed to catch his breath. An overwhelming sense of weakness almost left him slumped in the chair.
He forced himself to remain steady, a complex expression of relief and gratitude appearing on his face:
"Thank you for your discernment and understanding, my lord angel."
"Understanding?" Cassius interrupted him, his voice still cold.
"No. This is a provisional determination based on the available data.
Your 'expedient measures' are fraught with risk and uncertainty. Effective immediately, you will be placed under monitoring and testing."
He stepped forward, the shadow of his Power Armour engulfing Lynn completely:
"You know the geography of the lower levels, possess an unofficial intelligence network, and have demonstrated... unconventional efficiency in clearing out Xenos activity.
We need you to locate Tyranid nodes that are difficult to find.
Particularly targets suspected of containing independent or high-priority command units."
This was not a request. It was an order.
It was a chance for him to "prove his worth" and "atone."
"Provide coordinates. We will verify them."
Cassius paused, then said, "Remember, you have only one chance."
Is that clear?"
Lynn lowered his head and swallowed nonexistent saliva, his voice dry but clear:
"Yes, my lord angel. I will do everything I can."
For their second conversation, Cassius "invited" him directly into the austere cabin of that Thunderhawk Transporter.
This time, Cassius was not wearing his helmet.
What met Lynn's eyes was a steel-like... bald head, covered in fine scars and tempered by both time and war.
And the most striking feature of that bald head was the three dark "Adamantium Service Studs" embedded in it.
They were proof of at least three hundred years of service to the Imperium.
He said nothing, merely handing Lynn a wrist-mounted Dataslate with a simple display and input interface.
"Connect to your private intelligence network and update signs of activity in suspicious areas in real time.
We need precise coordinates for the next target. The sooner, the better."
His words were brief and direct, with no intention of offering pleasantries or explanations.
Lynn took the wristband, his fingers somewhat stiff.
This bald bastard was going to make him find other Tyranid nests right in front of him.
Damn bald bastard! Lynn cursed inwardly.