This was where the infiltration got complicated, for Dellenger, at least. The place crawled with those gas-masked mooks, and the medicae was a good six metres away from the closest building and the at least fifteen metre high rockcrete walls around it. He had his grapnel gun to shoot then zip line in, but the building was covered in one-sided windows, so he could likely be spotted, and if he were, he wouldn't know. Kalakor didn't have to worry about such a complication unless he was careful with his powers.

Dellenger was truly reconsidering this stupid bet right...now...

An idea hit him as he glimpsed the patrolling militia man below him and the rubbish container further down the alleyway. The bet didn't say he had to do it stealthfully, did it? Dellenger searched his memory and remembered it didn't, so he slipped to the left and leapt over the edge; he hoped it'd be so quick anyone near the windows would miss him as the world around him seemed to rise, and the wind roared in his ears. The patrolling militiaman began to grow in size as Dellenger fell towards him, and he fell and fell.

The soles of Dellenger's boots were right on target as they landed on top of the militiaman's shoulders. The militiaman didn't even have time to yell out before he smashed face first against the rockcrete and went limp. The militiaman took almost all the impact of the fall; the only thing Dellenger felt was a slight stinging judder up his knees.

Dellenger began dragging the dead or unconscious militiaman toward the rubbish container while trying to figure out a way to break this man's patrol route without looking suspicious.


Attelus continued to watch the young Sister from behind the pillar, and she continued to stare forwards and stand beside the doorway. Never had Attelus ever seen anyone so intensely into a sentry duty before; it boggled his frigging mind.

He also had to get past that, and if it was...Elandria, it'd be almost impossible. And Attelus thought it was bad with that Catachan, but at least he was inside that room doing...things with the Canoness. Attelus didn't know that Sisters of Battle were allowed such excursions, and he certainly didn't think they were allowed to be so open about it, even if they were a Canoness, one of the higher ranks in the order.

If this young girl was Elandria, who'd infiltrated the convent, this made his mission thousand times more complicated. It was well within the realms of reality for her to be here; perhaps her master had foreseen Attelus would come here and had her kill a young, innocent Sister who so happened to look like her and take her place. If that was the case, how many other agents of Etuarq had managed to infiltrate the convent? Excluding his damnable dad, Attelus was only aware of three; there could've been dozens or perhaps even hundreds of those enhanced, dangerous agents across the Calixis Sector and beyond.

But if it was, Elandria, and somehow she didn't know Attelus was here, he had the perfect opportunity to kill her. To take out one of Etuarq's agents once and for all and, perhaps, permanently free her from that bastard's control.

In all honesty, back on Omnartus, when he'd fought her and her colleagues, right from the first split-second he'd fought her, Attelus knew it was her. They'd become intimately familiar with each other's fighting styles back on Omnartus, and...

Attelus's eyes fell to the floor; he wished he could've gotten intimate with her properly before losing her.

But after that realisation, he'd held back against her, even when she was holding Adelana hostage and...

Attelus shook away that train of thought as he gripped the hilt of his sword with his right and pulled open the pistol holster on his shoulder. With her helmet off, he could try for a head shot with his silenced auto pistol, but he held little faith in his accuracy, especially with a tricky shot like this. This was what he and Darrance had spoken about back on Iocanthos, he'd talked big back then, so this was when he'd have to live up to that.

The galaxy was a frigging big place, so there was a certainty there'd be a young woman or two out there who looked like Elandria. But he didn't know if it was her yet; it could've been a coincidence as unlikely as it sounded. There must've been people out there who looked like Attelus, too and killing her would cause much more complications. The first being, when she hit the ground, there'd be a hell of a noise and wherein the Emperor's name would he hide the body? And if she was found...

Or he could be just trying to rationalise not killing Elandria, but even so, the reasons to not kill this young woman were more logical right now, so he decided not to.

Attelus sighed and slid his palm across his face, he guessed he'd just have to wait patiently, but "patience" wasn't exactly his strength. He just hoped the Catachan had an endurance as limited as Attelus' patience and-

The familiar sound of stomping power armoured feet approaching from behind him made him flinch and slid further into the shadows and waited. It was two pairs of feet; one was in armour, the other of shuffling soft shoes. Stealth missions like this were indeed a waiting game, a game he'd just have to get frigging used to.

It took about a minute for the walkers to come into view, and much to his non-surprise, it was the senior Sister and the scribe from before. Attelus wondered if the scribe was also a member of Inquisitor Soloston's retinue.

Neither noticed him as they walked on by, then out of sight.

'Mamzel, Palantine!' said the young Sister and Attelus strained his ears to figure out if the voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite clutch a confirmation or a denial.

'At ease, Satiristine,' said the Palantine. 'Your dedication to the Canoness is beyond reproach. Few Sisters would be so willing to stand guard at her door while she is having her fun.'

'Thank you, mamzel Palantine!' said Satiristine, apparently the irony of the statement going overhead, which seemed like Elandria. Attelus couldn't help liking the Palantine woman right away; the dryness of her tone was something to admire. He'd hoped the Palantine would somehow make the young Sister leave her post, but hope was the first step on the road to disappointment. That among all the "Thought of the day" she'd seen so far was the one Attelus most wholeheartedly agreed with.

The footfalls carried on without another word exchanged, and Attelus glanced around just in time to see the Scribe and the Sister turn the corner out of sight.

Attelus clenched his teeth and clutched his holstered pistol; damn it, this was taking too long; if something didn't happen soon, he'd have to make something happen soon!


Finally! They managed to reach the top of the stairs, and there the gaggle of Ecclesiarchs turned to face Arlathan and the others. The militiamen had herded them into three lines as they lurked around on the edges, guns held low but ready. Arlathan was in the middle one, six people down, Karmen was two in front of him, while Torris was on the right, four down, Tathe left nine down, and Vex was thirty down on the same line as Arlathan. This had annoyed Arlathan immensely, none of them had micro-beads as Arlathan didn't want to risk them being spotted, and he wasn't comfortable with Karmen using her psychic power yet, so co-ordinating their infiltration was going to be complicated. There was no sign of Darrance and Delathasi, Arlathan knew they were following the pilgrims, and he could only hope they would be able to make it inside before the doors closed.

'We stand!' yelled the little priest. 'Upon the threshold of one the holiest shrines in this great sector, bask in this place. This is a once-in-a-lifetime event, my faithful ones! You have travelled many light-years to step upon this world and into this great testament to the greatness of mankind and to the faith inherent in the very fibres of the Imperium of Mankind! Now come!'

The doors began to slowly open dramatically as the little Ecclesiarch began to beckon them in.

'Come,' repeated the priest over and over as he and the other Ecclesiarchs shuffled aside.

The pilgrims all began to file inside, still with that ridiculously slow pace, and after what seemed an age, Arlathan stepped into the cathedral, and despite himself, his breath caught in his throat, and it wasn't just the relief of escaping the heat outside. He'd seen a few cathedrals of the Ecclesiarchy over the years, including the awe-inspiring one on Scintilla, and while this one was huge, it wasn't even half as large as the one Scintilla; it blew it out of the water with its beauty.

All of the two dozen curved pillars leading up to the gigantic altar at the other end were covered in complex bronze abrasions that ringed up, and Aquilas grew from them in a naturalistic fashion which fitted this damned world. Attelus and Enandra would complain this world should have been made into an agri-world instead of a shrine world that would feed millions of starving people across the sector, and Arlathan understood. Still, the pair of them seemed to constantly underestimate the importance of worlds like this were important for the spiritual health of the Imperium's people.

The two of them were incredibly strong-willed; they'd embraced purposes they had made for themselves, well and truly, and neither of them needed faith in a higher power, just confidence in their own abilities, which was an admirable and enviable trait. Still, they forget most people aren't like that. Even Arlathan saw that through his cynicism. The cynicism was beaten into him during his time working in the Omnartisian Magistratum. At first, he'd been the wide-eyed recruit just out of the academy. Still, the blatant corruption and incompetence of his fellow enforcers and the disgusting, horrible crimes and criminals he dealt with eventually broke him down. By his thirties, he'd become every bit as selfish, corrupt and cowardly as many of the others. Maybe he could've avoided that mentality if he'd been more faithful? He'd secretly laughed at the more faithful enforcers and detectives, and while most were as corrupt as all hell, most of the few who stuck to their ideals for longer were quite religious.

Arlathan was so lost in thought that he didn't realise he'd stopped in his tracks until one of the pilgrims behind him pushed him lightly.

He carried on further inside, and their footfalls echoed through the cavernous beautifully; the place's acoustics were amazing. Behind the shining golden altar stood a gigantic organ that Arlathan wished to hear played more than anything in the world. Maybe hundreds of pews led up to the altar, and against the walls on the left and right walls, a space a good forty metres in width, sat glass cabinets Arlathan guessed had those "holy artefacts" the Ecclesiarch had mentioned inside of them.

Two militiamen slid past and stood in the middle aisle, blocking the pilgrims' path and indicating they turn left. The pilgrims, like good livestock, did as ordered, and Arlathan followed suit.

Then someone behind him started to sing. It was probably the same woman from before, and like the woman from before, her voice wasn't the greatest, but it was nice enough and boosted beautifully throughout the cathedral.

Soon, others began to join in, turning the singular woman into a choir of voices which Arlathan was tempted to join in with, even if he was a terrible as frig singer and didn't know the lyrics. He began to hum a facsimile of the tune, though.

Another younger priest waited for them near the first glass case; he smiled at them and ushered them onward. As Arlathan approached, he noticed an Ecclesiarch standing beside each glass display case; then he saw inside and what looked like an ancient sock laid on a thick, red with gold edges cushion.

'Behold!' exclaimed the priest, his hands whirling over it like a showman as he grinned like a fool. 'The holy sock! This was the very sock Saint Drusus wore, on the right foot inside the boot of the foot that was the first to step on this very spot!'

Arlathan fought down the urge to roar out his anger again and slam the palm of his hand so hard against his face it would break his nose as the pilgrims around him let out an awed, 'Ahhhh!'


Attelus began to grind his teeth, and sweat was beginning to soak him despite the fans of his bodyglove being turned on to the maximum strength.

If it was Elandria, with her enhanced senses, she might've heard the almost silent humming, so that was a good point to it not being her.

She could've been pretending not to get him into a false sense of security.

Frowning, Attelus glanced down the corridor again, hoping to find another way to slip by the girl, but again found nothing. Despite his hoping the Catachan did indeed have a good endurance, Attelus thanked the Emperor the walls were soundproofed apparently.

With a long exhale, he made the move he'd been planning for a while now and one he'd tried to replace with a "better" one numerous times, but he hadn't managed it.

So, after checking that the coast was properly clear, Attelus crossed the corridor, pushed his shoulder against the opposite wall, and watched the Sister.

The girl didn't seem to notice him.

He sighed again, not to rouse up his courage but out of relief. Then he exploded into a run, an awkward thing to do in his low stance, but he managed it easily enough; he just hoped his footsteps would stay silent.

The girl came closer and closer, but still, her attention stayed forwards. In the last few metres, Attelus leapt. He exploded into the air and tucked his feet so far his thighs almost touched his chest while keeping the cameleoline cloak tight around himself. The girl was short, shorter than him, which he could only thank his luck for, so he flew over her head, his feet missing the top of her head by only a few millimetres, which made her hair slightly flutter.

His teeth clenched, Attelus hit the stone floor and rolled, hoping he didn't make any noise.

And thanks to his synskin bodyglove's padded feet, he didn't, and with even glancing back at the girl, he moved to the left side of the corridor and back behind another pillar and the safety of the shadows.

Only then he looked back.

The girl was pouting her full, red lips and trying to brush her bob cut back to its former symmetrical perfection with clumsy power armoured fingers. It was...cute, hypnotically so. It made Attelus' heart go all a flutter. It made Attelus think about what Elandria would've been like if her masters didn't so brainwash her. Elandria would've never, ever made a face like that, especially not now. It suited her.

He shook himself back to reality, and Attelus couldn't help but grin and pump his fist in triumph. He'd jumped to such heights before, but never when in a situation such as this. He then began to move on, fighting to prevent his joy and adrenaline from taking over and causing him to make a mistake.

He just hoped she wasn't Elandria and so potentially let him sneak past her for some unknown fate that bastard Etuarq had in store for him, and it'd make him regret not killing her when he had the chance.