‘Right, Archo,’ Inquisitor Asp asked the tech-priest. ‘What’ve we got?’

++MISSION REVIEW MILLITARUM SQUAD THREE SIX TWO++

++STATUS SUCCESSFUL++

++METHOD STATISTICLY IMPROBABLE++

‘Fine.’ He yawned. ‘Queue it up. Let’s see what they did.’

The display flickered into life. Grainy helmet-cam footage filled the chamber. The screen split into multiple views. Asp disliked reviewing helmet footage. The screaming was rarely useful.

He pressed play.

‘Focus up, team. Retrieve the data nodule. Watch for Xenos,’ Came the sergeant’s voice. 

Affirmation runes blinked across the upper display as the squad advanced into the mine. 

Asp watched for a few minutes.

‘There’

KP-3’s feed enlarged.

The trooper’s lasgun snapped upward.

‘Contact front!’

Las-fire erupted. 

The squad joined in, with apparent gusto, red beams hammering down the corridor in epileptic bursts.

Asp dunked a biscuit into his recaff while the contents of the tunnel disappeared beneath concentrated military overreaction.

‘Cease fire!’

Smoke filled the corridor.

‘It’s a sonkin’ vending machine, you idiot!’ roared the Sergeant.

‘It moved, Sarge.’

A pause.

‘…possibly, Sarge.’

The squad advanced cautiously past the shattered machine. Yellow foil packets and fragments of processed snack matter littered the floor.

KP-4 picked up a yellow packet curiously.

Asp leaned in, licking his lips.

Archo silently extended a yellow packet of wafers.

The Inquisitor took one absently.

It tasted faintly of salt, industrial lubricant, and strangely, regret.

He checked the packet.

MINISTORUM-CODIFIED YELLOW.

Asp slowly pushed the packet aside with a finger.

There were some things in the galaxy man was not intended to taste. The wafers, he thought, were one of them.

‘Speed it up.’ 

The footage accelerated into jerking bursts of static and movement as Squad Three-Six-Two advanced deeper into the mine complex. 

Asp rinsed his mouth with recaff in an attempt to remove the lingering taste of the wafer.

It failed.

‘Normal speed,’ he said quietly, moving the strange taste around his mouth.

KP-9 now occupied point position, heavy stubber raised as the squad advanced through a corridor lit only by failing lumen strips.

Asp reached for a second drink. Carbonated. Bitter citrus.

Much better.

‘C’nt’ct Fr’nt! X’NO!’

The heavy stubber roared instantly, thunder filling the chamber as KP-9 filled the corridor with solid shot.

Shell casings flooded across the deck in glittering waves.

‘Nine,’ barked the Sergeant, ‘cease fire!’

The gunner stopped reluctantly.

Smoke drifted through the tunnel.

At the far end of the corridor, illuminated by flickering stab light, stood a waist-high sanitation servitor holding a mop.

The broom split and fell.

‘Movement confirmed,’ said KP-9 defensively. 

Asp raised an eyebrow slightly.

A data tooltip flickered beside the feed.

KP-9
Provisional attachment: Amalgamation Battalion Theta-9
Survivors consolidated from fourteen regiments.

Ah.

That explained the aggression. 

And the complete absence of ammunition discipline.

Asp watched as the soldiers moved through the mine, systematically vaporising thirteen additional servitors and three sanitation units. 

He watched as they annihilated a stuffed animal. Asp vaguely recognised it as a Scrumball mascot belonging to a sectorum league leader.

His hand drifted automatically toward the wafers.

He stopped.

‘Archo. Remove these. Bring grox jerky.’

The foiled packet vanished, Archo withdrawing it with the caution normally seen with unexploded ordnance.

Meat strips appeared in its place.

Asp resumed playback.

The squad had entered a large chamber. The tactical overlay revealed it as a primary data-storage facility. Towering cogitator banks filled the room, their status lumens blinking weakly in the dark.

The Sergeant gestured forward.

‘Find the core,’ the sergeant said.

KP-3 moved towards the central console, lasgun dangling from his shoulder. He reached down toward a brass data cylinder mounted within an extraction cradle.

‘Got it, sarge!’

The trooper disconnected it carefully.

CRUNCH.

Asp froze mid-chew.

The sound came again behind him.

Slowly, he turned.

Archo stood beside the lectern.

One mechadendrite held the discarded packet of wafers.

Another was steadily feeding them into his mouth.

++I LIKE THE FLAVOUR++

Asp stared at the tech priest for several seconds.

‘Archo.’

++YES, LORD++

‘Eat them somewhere else.’

++COMPLIANCE++

He shuffled backwards across the chamber, still audibly crunching.

Asp watched him leave.

Then returned his attention to the screen.

KP-3 held the data core.

For the first time all day, the mission appeared to be proceeding acceptably.

A warning rune flashed amber across the top of the display.

Asp sighed.

‘Pause.’

A new data-window unfolded beside the tactical feed.

DATA CORE AUTHENTICATED
SANITATION LOG: MINE KPHI-22
LAST DOWNLOAD: 143 YEARS

Asp stared at the screen.

‘Archo.’

++YES, LORD++

‘Open the mission briefing.’ He rubbed his eyes. 

Fresh data flooded the display.

Asp read it.

His left eye twitched slightly.

‘They were looking for Mining Cogitator Theta.’

++AFFIRMATIVE++

Asp slowly pointed at the frozen image of KP-3 proudly holding the brass cylinder.

‘That’s a janitorial maintenance archive.’

A pause.

++AFFIRMATIVE++

The Inquisitor buried his face in his hand. 

‘It was all a mistake. Dumb Luck.’

++OMNISSIAH PROVIDES++

Onscreen, the Sergeant’s voice crackled triumphantly through the helmet feed.

‘Objective secured! The Emperor protects!’ 

Asp watched in silence as the kill team exited the facility entirely unaware of their mistake.

The squad began cheering as they climbed into their evac shuttle.

The chamber remained quiet for several seconds.

Then a rune appeared. Data scrolled along the edge of the screen. 

A moment later he leaned back slowly in his chair.

‘Interesting.’

++LORD, QUESTION++

‘Apparently the sanitation archive contained years of unfiled maintenance reports exposing a Genestealer infestation in the lower mining levels.’

Asp watched the frozen image of the cheering Guardsmen for a few moments longer.

++MISSION SUCCESSFUL QUESTION++

Asp nodded slowly.

‘How many rounds did they expend?’

++SEVENTEEN THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN++

‘On confirmed targets?’

++ONE++

Asp raised an eyebrow.

++THE VENDING MACHINE++

Asp rubbed his eyes.

‘Commendations for the Squad,’ he glanced at the yellow packet.

++AFIRMATIVE++

He sighed and looked at the bag. The taste was still there in his mouth. Waiting. 

‘Locate whoever approved Ministorum-Codified Yellow.’

++DISAPLINARY ACTION QUESTION++

Asp cracked his neck.
‘No, Heresy.’