A Relictor Leiutenant. A Primaris Space Marine of a powerful and effective Chapter with a clear purpose and mission statement. But still regarded as a heretic in some places. So might carry out some missions in a clandestine manner.
Evorun Dullet had ordered his armed guardians to secure the entrances to this part of the space dock after his pair of locally engaged fixers had paid off the local gangs to be somewhere else. The orbital yards around Hydrapour had more than enough forgotten corners to satisfy his masters that their meeting could pass unmarked.
He reached inside his jacket and switched off the twanging, thumping drum beats of the tribal electrofunk that he was partial to. The Thunderhawk transporter slide quietly into the space, even its immense presence still nowhere near filling the dock. The blast doors beyond the atmosphere seal closed and the transport settled down with a soft but very noticeable 'crump'. Evorun was sure that the only people near enough to hear or feel it were those engaged by him. And his masters paid so very well.
The front ramp of the incredibly purposeful, brutal looking craft cracked open in a hiss as the slight overpressure inside the space craft vented into the dock. Evorun, sure that his attire was in order (he'd checked it several times) strode out to meet his master.
The huge, hooded and cloaked figure stomped down the ramp and made a few meters into the empty dock and came to a halt, waiting the mere human coming to meet him to arrive. Evorun stopped five meters away from the spectre and swept the tails of his long coat back with his left hand as he dropped to one knee before the giant.
"You have what we seek?" the voice rasped out synthetically through the grill on the front of the giant's helmet. Evorun knew that the helm under that hood was surmounted by a white edged broad red band but could not see anything under the cavernous hood. Not even a glow from the eye pieces.
"Yes Lord, the Hisitee Nou were uncommonly accommodating, as if they did not care for the relics. With your permission ?" Evorun stood up, the giant gave a subtle gesture and Evorun keyed the communicator once.
The one burst of transmitter signal set Evorun's default plan into action. Two cargo eights, one on the heels of the other, drove into the dock and made a wide circuitous pass behind the Thunderhawk, then slowed and moved up at walking pace into position below the portage stations under the transporter.
"There was no talk of payment ?"
"No Lord. I half expected them to ask for geneseed, or forbidden weaponry or something like that."
"They made no demands ?"
"The one I spoke with said 'as with the Executioners and the Astral Claws we may call on your masters in the future.'"
"And you know what that means ?"
"No my Lord." replied Evorun truthfully. But he could guess. And he knew that the giant knew.
There was a pause. Evorun changed the subject; "The only thing I wanted but could not obtain was automatically releasing clamps on the cargo eights. We'll have to unbolt the containers manually."
The giant nodded towards the cargo eights and their containers "Are they manned ?"
"No Lord, they are automata"
"Leave them then, I will depart now." The giant turned on his heel, as he did so the ramp cracked open once more.
"You have done well."
The space marine left with his containers of illicit Templar relics, cargo eights still dangling. The Thunderhawk would blend with the other traffic around the space port rings and rendez vous with the 4th Company cruiser "Arc of the Covenant" as it refuelled on the other side of the gas giant.
All Evorun had to do now was pay everyone off and ensure they were adequately dispersed around the sector before the arbites, criminal gangs, other chapter's spies, spyrers and lastly the Inquisition (in that order, most likely) figured out what was going on. And of course he'd have to disappear for a decade or two. He knew full well that he would wake up in a week or so with a new identity and only vague recollections of who he was. He was pretty sure that he was supposed to have no idea at all, but after all this time, the multiple persona overlay was possibly stretching thin.
Perhaps he'd be someone with a more comfortable lifestyle next time ?
At some point, just as before, some deeply implanted thing would go off in his head and he'd make his way to a blank bit of space to suddenly meet another Relictor to get his next mission.
Protagonists by Siph Horridus and Da Masta Cheef.
Outrageous skullduggery by yours truly.