"That would be against theeeAAGH-"

The Arbites' head explodes.

"Please, gentlemen, no distractions. I do need to personally see all your witnesses for case #14846007, and the relevant surveillance data, and visit the scenes of the crime, and much else besides."

Blink. Blink.

... 

(By the Emperor, the mess! Blood staining the documents, the icons, the clothes! Marrow stuck to the ceiling!)

...

(Joseph was a fine fellow! A bit of an annoying upstart, but... but...)

...

(That took less than a second, I can't grab the gun this fast...)

...

...o-of course, sir. The witnesses are in facility Credo-27-B. Do you wish to depart immediately?

Yes, all of that is exactly what Weeping Cherry is currently oblivious to.

The Warp is ... strange. First of all, the components that interact with it would do nothing, if her previous understanding of physics were correct — which is to be expected, when dealing with a completely new phenomenon. But the part that she's getting stuck on is that the properties of the warp implied by the different components are contradictory. About a third of them could not possibly work in the way the control software expects at the same time as another third of them. Sometimes for components on the same physical chip.

She looks at the data on the changes she can see in the closest part of the Warp.

The only answer that really makes sense is that the physical properties of the Warp are constantly in flux at the lowest levels, and that somehow these low-level changes add up to vaguely predictable high-level behavior. Which is insane — physics doesn't work like that.

But ... she is a scientist. And the first and most important skill is to see what's there. So she builds a model, as best she can. She doesn't know why it seems to work like that, but that can come later. For now, she settles for cataloging how it seems to work.

And then her fixity crystal alerts her that the internal energy storage is sufficiently full, and she puts down her research.

She centers herself, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes.

And opens her eyes.

"I'll be Xanthoceras," she says.

And opens her eyes.

"And I'll be Yew!" she replies, shoulder bumping her other self in their virtual space.

"How about Yew head down and hang out near the core of the planet?" Xanthoceras suggests. "Yew can keep working on the Warp model, and I'll figure out what some good experiments to perform are, now that a single bad mistake won't be the end."

Yew narrows her eyes.

"Sure, that sounds entirely reasonable. But I can tell you're using the wrong you. I hear it in your voice."

She lets her fixity crystal drop out of the ocean currents and fall towards the sea floor.

Xanthoceras grins.

"I don't know what Yew're talking about," she insists.

They settle down in the virtual space, back to back, to continue their work. Their fixity crystals exchange encrypted streams of high-speed neutrinos to make the shared space work, although the delay is negligible on planetary scales.

A door to a room with no windows, a single bench, a single toilet and a single ceiling lamp opens with a rusty creak. A very, very serious man walks inside, wearing simple but well-made civil clothes. There's a man with a lasgun and a soldier's physique by his side, lazily eyeing the surroundings, quiet as a brick. The serious man sits down upon a dirty bench, and reaches to the current dweller of this room, presently lying flat on the floor.

"Hello, Jonas."

"...greetings, sir."

"Please, Jonas, take my hand and stand up."

"Yes, sir..."

"I want to ask you a few questions."

"..."

”Please, do relax and take your time. It would do our productivity no good to be on edge. A cup of recaf?"

"...thank you, sir."

"My pleasure."

"..."

"..."

"That... is some good recaf, chief."

"You are most welcome. It's from Zamtani 6. I'm sure you will be invigorated enough in no time." Well, less because of it's place of origin, and more because of the cocktail of quick painkillers, gentle tonics, memory nootropics and mild suggestibility inducers that the cup is spiked with.

"..."

"..."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"The specifics are not that important. Suffice to say, a humble servant of the Emperor trying to do his damned job."

"Hah. Aren't we all?"

"Indeed, indeed."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Feeling better, now?"

"Yeah. Thanks again, chief."

Nod. "So, yesterday morning. You were simply walking to your workplace, right?"

"Mhm, the warehouse."

"And while you walked down the warehouse, what was exactly the first unusual thing that happened?"

"A torn corpse of a woman have popped out of thin air. I do know it doesn't make sense."

"Things don't always make sense, son. But do tell me in detail." 

”Detail? I don't think there was any detail, chief, she just popped in."

"Was there a flash of light? Sparks of electricity?Ripples in the air? A foreboding feeling just before the appearance?"

"No, sir. It's like in the vulgar-style movies. Jump cut, it's called - one frame there's nothing, the next frame - pop! There was a popping sound, too."

"A bit of a movie person, Jonas?"

"You could say so, sir. I've rewatched Adventum Absolutum twice this week."

"Ah, a classic in it's own way. So it was just like that with Weeping Cherry, you say." The Inquisitor have never seen the movie and doesn't recognize the name, but he's aware of the style.

"Yeah."

"And then what? Step by step, please."

"Well, I dodged the damn thing, like everyone who was nearby. And some people just walked away, of course - but some have started to walk up."

"Right. The first people who walked up, did they walk up from far away - too far away, I mean - or just those in immediate vicinity?"

"Um... Let me think, sir."

"Take your time."

"..."

"..."

"I think only those near enough to see it, at first. Not sure, though."

"Noted, thank you. So, what happened next?"

"The corpse sat up. Just like that. And then, a strange wind blew towards the corpse, dragging in dust from all around, and she began to grow back limbs."

"A wind from all directions?"

"Yeah."

"And did it blow above while it was blowing towards her?”

"Um... No, sir, I don't think it did. I can't be sure, but the dust didn't go above."

"And there wasn't a later point when a gust of wind blew briskly from her?"

"I'm not sure, sir. When she started to talk and the crowd started to talk, I didn't really pay much attention to dust and air. I don't think so, though."

"How fascinating. If that is so, that means that this Weeping Cherry have, well, absorbed much air into herself."

"Guess so, chief. You're a very different person from all the Arbites before, you know? They were... asking very different questions, in a very different manner."

"I am not sure how different we are, really. They were, ahem, doing their duties." The man stares meaningfully at the bruises on Jonas' arms. "And I am doing mine."

"You're way sharp, chief."

"Perhaps! But back to the matter of hand. Can you describe the healing process?"

"I have never seen such a thing, sir. The wounds didn't close as they do and the new flesh didn't grow from them. Instead, flesh... sort of weaved itself from the edges of the wounds, forming only the surfaces; but then, the limbs were like new, and acted like that too."

"Interesting. Continue."

"And immediately after, all blood at once disappeared from Weeping Cherry, and from the street and myself and all the other people it splattered on."

"Disappeared."

"Yes, sir. Just like the corpse appeared, but without even a sound. In a moment - as if it was never there."

"I... see. Was the sound perhaps too quiet?"

"Maybe so, sir. It was a busy street."

"Naturally. Hmm. And how'd the crowd react to that?"

"Shock and confusion, how else?"

"Awe? Speculation?"

"No immediate awe, I don't think. Speculation, of course, but a bit later. And I guess some people starting calling the Arbites."

"And what happened immediately after, Jonas?"

"She spoke some gibberish in an emotional, reassuring voice."

"Gibberish, huh. Did it sound like it was spoken by a human, just in a language you don't know?”

"I've never met a human who spoke a different language, sir. Hiveborn, pure and proud."

"Hmm. Did it sound something like this: 決してあなたをあきらめるつもりはありません、決してあなたを失望させるつもりはありません?"

"It was... equally alien, I guess? Some of these sounds are a bit like Low Gothic, most aren't really.”

"And not like this - Jil, come on in here for a second!"

A woman walks up into the interrogation cell. "Present."

"Please, do some empathetic speech at Jonas here, making sure not to say meaningful words."

"Yes, sire. {Familiarity, sympathy, curiosity of Jonas}."

"...sir, this is way weird. No, it wasn't like that at any point. I could make heads or tails of what Weeping Cherry was saying, it was gibberish without any meaning except for it's intonation."

"Thank you, Jil, you may leave us. Well. That's certainly interesting."

"If you say so, sir. She did eventually start to speak in garbled Gothic, though."

"So she did. But have anything happened before that?"

"Yes. She stood up, the dust on her clothing vanished like blood, and she tried to slowly walk away. We halted her."

"Halted her how?"

"Held hands in front, gesturing away, miming a wall."

"And how did she react?"

"Stopped immediately. Then, sat down, I guess."

"Did she? Hmm. And then?"

"Did nothing, for a couple minutes. The crowd was discussing things - you know, that kinda groxshit is either a xeno, or Emperor's Own miracle, or work of a witch, or maybe something Mechanicum cooked up. If I were to try listing what people said, well..."

"Frankly, I'm actually rather uninterested what random inane guesses have people expressed. What broke the still, though?"

"Oh, Weeping Cherry started talking in bad low gothic. Introduced herself."

"I see. Hmm. Wait. Wait a moment, let's go back to the speculations of the crowd. Jonas, I am going to ask you a very hard question. It will seem meaningless, but, believe me, it is rather important."

"Yes, chief, what is it?

"When Cherry began to speak, did she use any words that people in the crowd haven't used in their discussions, even once?"

"...um. Give me a minute, sir."

"Of course; but it may also be productive to use paper and a pen for this. Let's try to transcribe Cherry's words first. And then, though we won't quite make a transcript of everything the crowd have said, we should make a list of topics discussed at the time."

"Right. Okay. So..."

Fifteen minutes later:

"So, all in all, it seems like 'Explosion' and 'City' may well have been unmentioned prior to Weeping Cherry mentioning that."
"Sure looks like it. But I can't be sure, sir. I am sorry."
"It is fine. I am going to attempt to have a similar talk with other witnesses, and with the Emperor's blessing, it will be clear that the conclusions are correct. A 'city' is particularly peculiar, as I can't readily imagine this word, and not 'hive', being used by this particular crowd on this particular world."
"So what'd that mean, sir?"
"I am not certain. And if I were, It would probably be a bad idea to tell you."
"I read ya, sir."
”There's a phrase in the transcript that truly bothers me, though..."
"The 'years and places' one?"

Language, it changes in years and in places. Low Gothic, it is like English and it is like Latin, but many years after. My machine, it listens of the city, tells me how different. I learning Low Gothic.

"Indeed, Jonas, indeed. You too are 'way sharp', aren'tcha? And then, 'listening to the city', too. Many ways to understand that remark, there are."
"If you say so, chief."
"So. Thus concludes the summary of the events from your side. But now, I have some additional questions."
"All ears."
"Tell me, Jonas... what is your impression of Weeping Cherry?"
"Uh... Well, some kinda wildly powerful xeno or heretic, maybe one that-"
"No, no! Nothing like that. In fact, please, set all the reasonings and teachings wholly aside. Tell me of your sheer gut feeling."
"Not a question I expected of you, sir. But... Hmm. Personable, or trying to be, or appearing to be. But. That's not all. Also... vaguely unsettling."
"Unsettling how?"
"...vaguely. Can't put my finger on it. But there may have been something in here that put us even more on edge than we'd otherwise be."
"I see. Wait a moment. Jil, get Mikresu to fetch the blackbox case!"
And in a half a minute, a tech-priest arrives, carrying a small armored case in her tendrils.

The serious man unlocks the case. Within it, there are some small devices, a pair of gloves, and a gilded box covered in purity seals, Aquillae, and throrned golden chains, smelling of stale incense. He dons the gloves.

"Jonas, I am about to pull out an object from this box, and bring it near you for a few seconds. It is important to not touch it, and it is very important not to let it's encasing break. What I want from you is to notice a... strange feeling that it will produce in you when close. As soon as you do notice an unusual feeling, tell me that very second."
"...Yes, sir."
The serious man unlocks his serious box. Within it is another box, a very tiny one. It is pitch-black and made of thin wood.
"Three, two, one!"

"Feeling it, chief."

On this, said chief promptly, but carefully, put the black box into the ornate box, and then closed the ornate box and the gloves into the armored case.

"Now, son. Tell me, this feeling... Was it the same kind of vague discomfort that you felt in Weeping Cherry?"

"Um... No, sir. Weeping Cherry felt... like there was something... missing, and this thing feels like there is something there that is, that you wouldn't expect to be. Although... It was the same kind of feeling, like music and speech and machine-noise are."

"Yes... I suppose it would be."

"What in the abyss was that feeling, sir? I have never felt that in my waking life!"

"That was something truly, truly terrible, son. Do remember it, however. If you ever feel it again, it'd be safe to assume that it's source is a source of the darkest terror and vilest heresy."

"I will, chief."

"I'm sure. Now, I do think it is almost time for me to go."

"Sir, am I to assume that I am to say absolutely nobody of our conversation?"

"Jonas, Jonas... What of the Ecclesiarch and Commissar and Inquisitor, from whom one has no secrets?"

"Chief, I am just telling you my honest expectations and thoughts."

"Oh. So what do you honestly think, then?"

"I honestly think that sharp and considerate men like you are are of the reasons heresy haven't yet overtook all of Imperium."

"Jil, come here! Jonas, do you swear to having told no lies to me, in all the conversation?"

Jil's eyes light up.

"I do so swear, chief!”

"He's telling the truth, sire", says Jil.

"Alright, then. Stay here for now, Jil. Jonas, in a week, a tall blonde man will visit you. He is going to tell you these exact words: 'Nobody who bets on faith can keep it.' And you will reply with 'Faith rejects prices.' That man will explain to you how and when to contact him, and give you a session of instructions."

"May I write it down, sir?"

"No, son. Make no written record about things like this; and especially never on cogitators and such. Commit it to memory."

"Yes, chief."

The Inquisitor, then, pulls out his badge, for just a couple seconds.

"Now. Jonas Plin the Younger, your path is one, and you will, with all your focus, seek out any anomaly and heresy, keeping nothing to yourself. You will never let this association be known, to anyone, without explicit command. Swear, now, to be my unseen eyes, in Imperium's service, in Emperor's name, until the end of time."

"I do swear so, sir. And honored to be of service."

"He means that, too."

"Good. Welcome to the Legio Oculorum, Jonas. Do keep quiet. Glad to be your master. Goodbye."

And so they walk out - Jil, the Inquisitor, and his bodyguard, who you definitely forgot was in the room.

And the Inquisitor spends another three hours talking with the other residents of facility Credo-27-B.

He gives the instruction to immediately release Jonas to freedom, and put the rest of the inmates into the kind of prison where all sentences are for life; giving also a very strict order to avoid killing them unless truly necessary.

Now, this isn't the most effective way to quiet the witnessess, and some would be surprised by the approach.

But by this point, a certain picture have begun to emerge in the Inquisitor's mind.

Once upon a time... 

No. No.

Once upon a much different time...

Back when Inqusition was a morality tale from the distant past, the Emperor of Mankind was a humorous epithet for the Senatorial Speaker, the Eldar Empire ruled reality, and humankind considered energy and negentropy the only resources worth of note in the end...

There was a small freighter ship called Spirit of Eternity.

A totally ordinary freighter ship, returning from an ordinary freight mission period for ship maintenance and crew rest.

Well, at least, that's what it planned to do - to return.

But it had the misfortune to begin it's flight somewhere during the end of M24, mere centuries before the period now known as the Age of Strife. And all over the Galaxy, Warp had already began to destabilize.

So that is not what the ship ended up doing.

Instead, the ship happened to fly wildly, truly wildly off the course. Deflected by a sudden warp storm, the Spirit of Eternity blasted through the layers of Immaterium and into the depths of the Far Warp.

It was the ship's very name that incited Warp to play a mean joke upon it.

The Spirit of Eternity beheld the birth of the Galaxy: the aftermath of the supernova explosion of the star that is now it's supermassive black hole.

It tried to flee the Galaxy's violent birth. It arrived at it's violent death by the hands of Chaos, planets and stars torn into a psychotic mirage by countless warp storms, legions of demons dancing among the ruins.