Zarkaniy, Belis Corona Sector

Clattering knives and forks filled one of Zarkaniy's mess halls. Amasec stained tabletops and ran down the sides of mugs. Flecks of egg glistened on unshaven chins. Claws clacked against the deck. Jamie Marlantes sat his tin mug on a coaster and leaned on folded arms. "So, if that dog's Inquisition property, what rank does he hold?"

"I'm gonna need a lot more of these before I care if a dog warrants official rank and pay." Mikel Tierden lifted his mug. "Refill!"

"Negative on the plonk." A passing ensign covered Tierden's mug with his hand and pushed it away. "One cupful tonight. Anybody taking more draws extra duty."

"Why? We beat Satwa. Ran them in to the ground." Tierden scowled.

"Interrogator maybe?" Otus Jopnell nudged Marlantes's elbow. "Wouldn't want him taking a bite out my balls."

"Ahaha, the old slap the todger in a bap trick. Hee-hee! Make him squeal for his ma." Ali Orto, opposite Marlantes, slurped on the dregs inside his mug.

"What's that about todgers?"

"What d'you do when you get bored, Mikel? You start drawing penises on things," Orto said.

"I like that the first thing comes in to our head are wangers." Tierden spun his mug by the handle.

"Interrogator? A dog? More like pesterer."

"Pesterer. Heh-heh-heh, yeah." Marlantes laid his knife and fork together. "Pesterer Prime, how 'bout that?"

"Ha-ha-ha! I'll go for that." Orto kicked Marlantes's shin. "The dog's now a pesterer prime."

"Hold on." Jopnell nodded at a non-commissioned officer with a sand-coloured beret screwed to his bald crown. "Trouble afoot."

"Shit, what's the watchmaster doing here?" Tierden wiped his mouth. "No staff NCOs in 'ere."

"Ssh, you'll bring him over." Orto drove his garlic bread around the sauce on his plate and shovelled the rest in to his mouth.

"Oh, too late."

Moving down each table, the watchmaster leaned over shoulders and whispered in ears. "Muster in five."

"Watchmaster, we're—"

"Muster in five, Tierden." The watchmaster slapped Tierden's back. "Finish up."

"More duty? After what we did on Henna-Morata. Give us a break."

Five places further down, the watchmaster spun and aimed a finger at Orto. Orto flinched.

"Heh-heh. He's got your number, Ali." Marlantes picked up his plate and took it over to the hatch. Urgraf in whites and aprons manned the galley. Missed that smell.

"Student?" The watchmaster leaned through the hatch. "Fall out and draw rifles. Five minutes."

"All of us, Watchmaster?" Student, the head chef, paused mid-slice.

"All."

All of bloody Urgraf. What's going on? Behind Marlantes, men rose and stacked their dirty plates by the hatch and piled cutlery in to wash bins.

"Corralling tight lads, I bet," said Tierden. "Somebody's had a bit too much to drink."

"Yeah, they could've at least given us the night off." Jopnell pushed a tall stack of plates through the hatch. "What's so bad about riding high on success?"

Sandy, sweaty assault vests hung inside lockers in a changing room. Orto opened the locker next to Marlantes' locker and sniffed his ceramite's liner. "Pooh. Smells like the stuff you find under your toenails."

"Aw, only your toenails smell like that, Ali." Tierden opened the pouches attached to his vest and held it upside down. Sand poured on to the deck. "Mank mongrel."

Never thought I'd have you on my shoulders again so soon. Marlantes hoisted his 349 carrier across his chest and turned the power on. The aerial, clasped against the 349's case, sprang up. Marlantes pulled the aerial down and fixed the clasp in place.

"Later, boys." Tierden and Orto fitted ceramites with horizontal white stripes on the back and left to find their assault teams.

"All DA personnel follow your commanding officer quickly and quietly!" The watchmaster moved through the rows of lockers, hand on hips, beret screwed down tightly. "CP and signallers, you have two minutes then you're following the watchmaster. Any unit remaining behind draws extra duty indefinitely."

"What's he mean by indefinitely?" Jopnell leaned his head close to Marlantes.

"Means he's riding us roughshod all the way to Belis Corona if we don't hurry up, Otus." Marlantes tugged his carrier on to his shoulders and hooked his handset on a spare loop on his vest.

"Shit, Jamie, I think he's serious."

"You ever seen him break a smile?"

Urgraf boots tramped down steps and in to a waiting tram. Jopnell sat down beside Marlantes and pressed his knees together. "Oi, what's the matter?" Marlantes elbowed Jopnell. Staff officers, Close Protection, and other signallers packed the seats around them. Lights flashed past the windows.

"Listen, I've had a lot of orange juice and my bottle's about to go, I swear."

"Keep it to yourself. Could be worse. We might be running."

"Bet he'd make us run after all that grub."

"Mmmph." Jopnell's heels drummed on the floor. Once the doors opened, Jopnell staggered out after Marlantes.

"Wardrobe malfunction, boys?" Trabant Ulman, leaning against a pillar, waved the Urgraf over.

"Think we're in danger of an indignity occurring, Den."

"Eh-heh-heh. We'll distract the watchmaster, Otus. You nip off to the toilet now."

"What, now?"

"No-no, wait for us to corner the watchmaster."

"I dunno where the latrines are."

"Oh, just follow the signs. Come on, Jamie."

The watchmaster whirled on Marlantes and Ulman. "So, your mums didn't teach you how to hold it in, did they?"

"Er, Watchmaster, Trooper Marlantes and I—"

"You, Jopnell, stop hovering and get yourself to the latrine and report back to me once you're set."

"Oh!" Jopnell collected himself and waddled off the platform.

"Thank you, Watchmaster—"

"HQ!" The watchmaster snapped his fingers. "Quick and quiet."

The watchmaster's heavy breathing on their necks, Marlantes and Ulman followed the rest of the Obrist's staff away from the platform. A sign above them said, Operations L – 01. "Must be near the bridge then." Marlantes hitched his Merotech higher. "Ever been this far forward?"

"Yeah."

"You've had plenty of time for a natter. Hold your tongues and listen for orders."

Oh, wow. Marlantes lifted his headset off his ear. All that space to play with.

The fifteen men on the Obrist's staff held company around a rectangular console displaying a blown-up map of the ship. The Obrist and his officers conducted an O-group away from the signallers and bodyguards, the former tuning and cleaning out their 349s. A DA team led by an Ensign named Daniel Farr organised their personal equipment away from the others.

"I'll never go near a damned beach again, long as I live." Paul Cramer blew sand from his set's crystals. "Itchy, scratchy, pointless waste of resources. Why'd the Emperor create sand anyway?"

"Don't…" Marlantes rounded on Cramer. "Oi, d'you hear me?"

"Sand in my ears, Jamie—umph!" Cramer fell over his set.

"Jamie!" Ulman hooked an arm around Marlantes's shoulder and drew him back from Cramer. A few officers glanced at them. "Apologise to Paul."

"Jamie, you could've broken it!" Cramer shook a dull crystal at Marlantes.

"C'mon, apologise."

Marlantes's nostrils flared. "Sorry, Paul."

The watchmaster's hand fell on Marlantes's shoulder. "That's extra duty, Trooper. See me after the orders group."

"Right, let me have that." Ulman worked Marlantes's vox carrier from his shoulders and lowered the set on to a storage container. "Let's have a look at this then."

"No, no, let me." Marlantes dove at his set. "I carried it through that bloody sandstorm."

"Alright." Ulman raised his hands and backed off. "Watchmaster."

"As you were, Trabant."

Forgive these fingers, but we haven't a techpriest to hand. Marlantes unfolded a multitool and unscrewed the 349's backplate. "Be still, spirits, I do what I must. Forgive the intrusion, and grant me your trust."

"Are we still linked?" Cramer pressed half of his headset against one ear. "Jamie, can you hear me?"

"Er, wait one." Marlantes tipped sand from his 349's innards. "Omnissiah, forgive these clumsy hands."

"Let's have signals over here," a captain beckoned from the O-group. "Quickly now."

"Yessir." Cramer hoisted his set in to his arms and took it over to the map. "Sorry, sir, took a bit of a dousing. Just trying to get 'em tuned."

"C'mon." Marlantes clicked his tongue. He flicked the dial around and cycled through the set's sixteen channels. Static buzzed through his headset. "This is Legion. This is Legion."

"…Hullo? Hullo, Legion, this is Legion Four-One Alpha. Over."

"Hullo Four-One Alpha, reading you strength three. Over."

"Understood, Legion. Are we—are we keeping the same codes as with our previous deployment? Over."

"Hullo, Four-One Alpha. Um, let me confirm that with One Alpha, please. Out."

"You still linked?" The watchmaster glowered at Marlantes.

"Yes, Watchmaster. I've got Four-One Alpha on the other end. I haven't managed to contact any other callsigns yet."

"Right, reassemble your set and take it to the major."

"Watchmaster." Marlantes replaced the backplate and screwed it back on. Cramer and another signaller named Dano balanced their 349s on the edge of the map table. Handsets sat within reach of the Obrist and his officers.

"Beg pardon, sir," Marlantes said to a captain.

"How's the blower looking, Jamie?"

"I have callsign Four-One Alpha on the other end, sir." Marlantes laid his handset next to the captain.

"Well done." The captain pressed the side of his fist against his mouth. "Ah-hum."

"Captain?"

"Sir, we have contact with Four-One Alpha on Marlantes' vox."

"Excellent. I'll inform the Obrist."

"Inform me of what, Major?"

"Sir, we have Four-One Alpha on comms. That gives us all DA callsigns bar Two and Seven."

"Rotate callsigns Two and Seven to this end of the ship and have runners assigned to issue orders. Put Four and Five in Two and Seven's place."

"Yes, sir."

"Let's go over the plan."

"Sir. If I could have the map?"

"Go ahead."

"Right, our assault teams are positioning to apprehend all Inquisition personnel manning the vital sections of the cruiser. Aft, where we are, is the bridge, Combat Information Centre, and navigation. Right now, only the bridge is occupied. Team Two led by Saratov will secure the bridge and take the pilots in to custody. Forwards of here are the other ranks' – or Inquisition equivalent – mess halls and galleys. Once rotated to us, Team Seven under Kapler shall apprehend the kitchen staff. The sleeping quarters are where we hope to take the most hostages, Obrist. Teams Three, Four, and Five will be performing a sweep of the upper decks then continuing downwards. Further forward, Engineering and Life Support maintain a staff of mostly servitors, though there is an overseer to perform tasks a tech cannot. Team Six, Strecker, will be securing those facilities and taking in the sentient staff. Team Eight, Farr, will be our flying unit, ready to reinforce at a moment's notice."

"Well, very good, Major." The Obrist lifted a chrono from where it hung on his vest. "If I could have runners sent out now to the teams without comms, we can get them informed of our start time. That will be… let's say thirty-two minute's time. So, jump-off will be 2130 Ship Standard—ah, make sure each team leader has set his chrono."

"Roger that, sir. Cramer, Marlantes, Dano, comms please. Captain, you do the honours."

The Obrist ran a finger along the cruiser's uppermost deck. "Looking at the upper decks, Major…"

"Yes, Obrist, entertainments. Apparently, this warship was partially converted in to a pleasure vessel. The uppermost deck and the one below it would be where officers, guests, and what have you are wined and dined. Be aware, this section is identity-locked, so only recognised individuals will have access."

"Any staff?"

"None sentient, sir."

"Ignore it."

"Very good, sir."

"Captain, we want this to be a staggered jump-off. The teams make the arrests all at the same time."

The captain lifted the headset off his ear. "Yes, sir, understood. What are the rules of engagement?"

"Do not fire unless fired upon. A softer touch is to be taken with Inquisition. Grenades, lethal and non, are forbidden. The hostages are to be confined to quarters until I give further orders."

"Yes, sir." The captain sat the headset over his ear and took the handset. "Hullo, Three-One Alpha, this is Legion…"

Marlantes met Dano's eye. Why bother with all this? Inquisition aren't our enemy, are they?

Dano's eyes fixed on one of the hanging banners. Marlantes followed the deep red fabric down to where it brushed the deck. Red, white, and black. Not sure I'd like throwing my lot in with a gang running those colours.

Numerals flicked around to 21:30. "Captain, Team Six," said the major.

"Roger." The captain pressed the talk button on his handset. "Legion Six-One Alpha, this is Legion. You are cleared to proceed. Out."

"Major, two minutes then Teams Three, Four, and Five proceed." The Obrist stuck a cigar between his teeth.

"Sir."

Marlantes pulled a tissue from his pocket and shook sand from it. He blew in to it and folded it back up. "Stow that noise." The watchmaster glared.

"Captain." The major tapped his chrono.

"Sir." The captain held out his hand for Marlantes' and Cramer's handset. "Hullo, Three-One, this is Legion. You are cleared to proceed. Relay same to callsigns Four-One and Five-One. Out."

"Saratov now, Major," the Obrist flicked his lighter closed. "Give me the bridge."

"Sir." The major nodded at the captain.

"Runner!"

"Sir?" A trooper from Farr's team trotted over. "I have permission from my team leader."

"Trooper, deliver these orders to Saratov's team. They are to secure the bridge and apprehend all sentient personnel they encounter. Kapler's team, when they arrive, are to secure the other ranks' mess halls and galleys. Make sure they receive that order."

"Yes, sir. Got it."

"They're coming in on the tram right now so leave immediately."

"Sir." The trooper passed Otus Jopnell on the way out.

"Alright?" Marlantes patted Jopnell's shoulder.

"Mm. They didn't make it easy finding it. What's going on?"

"I think we're taking over the ship."

"What? Why? They're not Satwa. We've got no quarrel with them, surely."

"Err, pfft, dunno. It's not up to us, is it?"

"Glad you understand how the chain of command works, Trooper. Jopnell, you can have extra duty along with Marlantes. See me after the operation."

Jopnell opened his mouth. Marlantes thumped his toecap against Jopnell's ankle. "Hullo, Legion, this is Four-One Alpha, proceeding through sleeping quarters. Five Inquisition now in custody."

Marlantes pushed his handset at the captain. "Sir, Four's taking the sleeping quarters."

Another handset was tucked between the captain's ear and shoulder. "Roger that. Keep me posted."

"Maybe we clean out and resync the nines first next time," the major muttered to the Obrist. "Could this not have waited a day?"

"The commander…" The Obrist took the major away from the table, out of earshot.

The commander? Marlantes eased his headset away from his ear. God-Emperor, the navy's not calling the shots now, is it? Marlantes jumped at a crackle in his ear. "Zero. Four-One. Contact deck three sleeping berth. Over."

"Sir, Four-One's got contact!" Marlantes held out his handset.

The captain snatched the handset from Marlantes' fingers. "Obrist, Four-One has contact."

"Where?" The Obrist swiped his view of the map to amidships. "Which deck?"

"Deck three, sir."

"Four-One. Legion. What is your status?"

"Legion, this is Four-One. We took fire from the far end of the berth. All occupants detained and unharmed. Request permission to pursue and apprehend."

"Obrist, Four-One requests permission to pursue one of more gunmen along deck three."

"No running battle through the sleeping quarters, Captain. If Four-One has detained all occupants I want him to hold his position."

"Roger." The captain held the talk button down. "Negative, Four-One. No running battle. Hold position and await further orders. Out."

The major leaned over to the Obrist and whispered in his ear. "No. No!" The Obrist stuck out his chin. "It was the Obrist's decision. He made it independently."

"Sorry, sir. Team Three and Five have their sections locked down," Dano said. "They've just reported that."

"Just that trouble with Four then, Obrist. Should we detach Farr's team to assist in the deck three sweep?"

"Hold off for now, Major."

"Right."

The runner came back, his Merotech swinging at his side. "Sirs, message delivered. Saratov's and Kapler's teams were together. They know their objectives."

"Excellent. Stand down, Trooper." The major smiled at the Obrist. "Textbook, sir."

"Team Six?"

"Cramer, Team six?"

"I'm…" Cramer flicked through his set's channels. "I had them there, sir. I think it might be the range."

"Their last transmission?"

"Three minutes ago, sir. They were proceeding to their target."

Should've given these sets a proper cleaning. The desert can't have done them any favours. Marlantes bit a fingernail.

"Balls, man. Clansman does forty klicks."

"Major?" The captain tapped a 349 handset on the table's edge. "Perhaps the Inquisition installed disrupters within the bulkheads. Distorters? Dampeners?"

"Yeah, that makes sense, Captain." Smoke twirled from the Obrist's cigar. "Fellas that stick their noses in to other people's business ought to be just as paranoid of others doing it to them. Trust the team leaders, Captain."

A muscle in the captain's cheek twitched. Sweat shone on his upper lip. Harder standing around here doing nothing than it is being out there. Marlantes' heel tapped on the deck. Waiting's the killer.

Click. My body twitched. Trapped beneath my head, my left arm tingled. I rolled on to my back and stared through cracks in my eyelids at the ward's doors. The centrepiece spun and the halves slid outwards. Wheels squeaked. A gurney rolled through. On it lay a body covered in a blue blanket. "No, not there, not there! This way." The gurney backed out. "Leave it here. We'll come back for it." Footsteps faded.

Barefoot, I tiptoed outside the ward. The gurney sat against the wall opposite the empty office. A bald head poked out of the blanket. I leaned down and put my ear against the mouth. A tiny black letter I covered the skin beneath his right ear. I peeled the blanket back. The stench of burnt flesh rose from the body. In its chest were two dinnerplate-sized cavities of wet flesh, bluish organs and grey bone melted together. Hairs rose on my arms. I pulled the cover up to the neck and let it fall. Whiterock?

I lay awake hours later, a tremor in my jaw. Trip. My hand clenched and unclenched. God, if he's hurt you, I'll… Lights came on in the ward. The doors opened and an Urgraf steered a trolley holding a covered bowl inside.

"Morning." The Urgraf lifted the lid off the pot, revealing orange, lumpy liquid inside. "Hungry?" The Urgraf dipped a ladle in to the pot.

"I can get the scoff myself, mate. Go serve the blokes who can't."

"My orders were to—"

"Go do the worst cases first." I pulled my pict out from under my pillow and put it in my pocket. An ulcer bulged on the roof of my mouth. My boots stood together beneath my bed, laces hanging loose. A plastic packet crackled beneath my foot. I pocketed the seeds with my pict and tightened my laces.

"Erm, you're not really supposed to leave the ward. Captain's orders."

"Need a piss, don't I?"

"We can fetch a—"

"I'll do it myself. I'm not pissing in a pot."

The gurney holding the Inquisition man had gone. I took a left at the office and followed the corridor along. No wall signs. Ahead, a door hissed open and an Urgraf in mask and gown walked out. "Oh, it's you. Turn around and return to your bed at once, Lieutenant."

"Number ten, ma'am. Can you point me to the khazi? I'm coming up short."

"I—I didn't understand a word of that, Lieutenant." Captain Bukharin tugged her mask down. "Return to your bed."

So, I'm pissing in a pot then? I balled a fist against the small of my back. "Ma'am, I need to use the latrine please."

"Follow this corridor along. You'll see signs on the wall. Once you're done, return to your bed, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, ma'am." Head down, I moved past Captain Bukharin. Once I had put a corner between us, I stopped and listened. Is she still there?

On the way back from the latrine, I avoided the corridor and headed through a ward where more Urgraf convalesced. "James?" A man with a grey beard sat up.

"Oh, sir. Wondered where you'd got to." I approached Commander Barakat's bed.

"What are you doing hobbling around? And why aren't you in this ward?"

"Why are you?"

"Don't talk back to me, James. It's officers here. Why aren't you?"

"Pff, not a proper officer, am I?"

"Oh, don't talk rot! Explain to Captain Bukharin that you should be in a ward designated for officers and she will be happy to sort it out."

"Mmn, don't really want to." I scratched behind my neck. "Trying to avoid her, like."

"Well, find that colonel—the Chiurgeon. He'll sort you out."

"Err, I dunno where he is. What—what's a Chiurgeon?"

"Inquisition-related?" Barakat leaned on an elbow. "How's the arm?"

"Can't feel a thing. Whole bloody month doing fuck-all though."

"James." Barakat beckoned me closer. "You'll keep a clean tongue when in the company of other officers."

"There's no-one else 'ere though. Nobody's listening either."

"Just—just take a bit of professional advice, James."

"Still sounding like a non-com, am I?"

"A little."

"What's keeping you from flying the coop then, sir?"

"Oh, Captain Bukharin wants me in for at least seven days. No labour and nothing stressful weighing on the mind. Now that's rot. I feel fine."

"Tell that to Commander Sorge."

"Has Richard been in to see you at all?"

"Nah. What, he hasn't been in to see you?"

"No, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"That soup didn't agree with you?"

"Told him to dole it out to the worse-off lads first." I backed away. "I'm off now, sir."

"Fine. See you when you're mended, James."

So, Barakat's in the dark too. I pinched the stubbly skin around my jaw. I need to find Trip and make sure he's alright.

"Mooching, Lieutenant?"

I jumped at the sound of Captain Bukharin's voice. "Just—just on the way back to the ward, ma'am."

"Take yourself there and rest. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am." I shambled away from the captain. "Um, could I see Susannah, please?"

"Sergeant Senf has not been seen to yet, Lieutenant. On your way, please."

"You haven't seen her yet?" I rushed at Captain Bukharin. "How can you not 'ave seen her yet?"

"If you must know, my team and I spent most of last night operating on VSIs. Headwounds come first, Lieutenant. Your Cadian is stable." Dark circles ringed Captain Bukharin's eyes. Hairs had sprung from her bun and colour was absent from her cheeks. "That dressing needs changing."

I opened my clenched hand. The dressing wrapped around it had turned brown. "Can you let me know when I can see her? Please."

"Go, Lieutenant."

Does Captain Bukharin know? I clutched at the pict in my pocket and dropped my boots beneath my bed. Ulman's Cyvox stood on the drawers beside my bed. The tapes sat in a stack. Tusks, Sinna, Rogue. What was the other one? I turned over the Rogue Servitor's tape. A blank piece of masking tape was stuck to the body. Great, thirty minutes of nothing. I slotted the tape in blank side up and closed the lid.

Trolley wheels squeaked. A pot lid clinked upon a tray. "Oi, give us some of the slop."

"Slop?" The Urgraf manning the soup trolley pushed it along to me.

"Yeah, you're being paid to peddle that cart, not promote what's on it." I lunged for the lid and dipped the ladle in to thick orange liquid.

"That's got to go 'round the whole med bay."

I slurped from the ladle and dropped it on the tray. "Be plenty left over then." Soup coating my lips, I put my feet in my boots and shoved the Cyvox and the tapes in to my back pocket.

"Oi, steady on. You're supposed to be resting."

"Change that breakfast up, then we'll talk." I left the ward and trotted past the office. Where did they take that body then?

Medical L – 02. I stepped in to a tubular lift and came out on L – 01. Circular doors stood on both sides of a long corridor. Storage closets for gurneys, medical whites, folding screens. My bare heels shook inside my boots. The baggy hems of my blue trousers hung over the browned leather and dragged along the deck. Damn it. I knelt and tucked both hems inside and dragged the laces tight. Ahead of me, light and the sound of rushing air grew.

The tram slowed and halted at the platform. Urgraf stepped out of both cars. I flung myself against a pillar. Metal crashed and jangled out of the tram. "Careful with that!"

"Sorry, Captain."

"Is that the last one?"

"Yes, sir."

"Didn't make it easy for us—bastards!" Four Urgraf wheeled a gurney with a body on it past me. I slipped around the pillar and dashed aboard the empty tram. The sliding doors snatched at the hem of my shirt. I crouched in the last car and ducked down. Lights streaked past the windows. Thirty seconds later, the tram slowed. I peered over the top of the seat at the approaching platform. Living L – 01.

Crumpled bedsheets lay on empty mattresses. Little strands of hair coated the deck. A shallow dent in the bulkhead here. Scratch marks – nails dragging along a wall – showed up white on the bulkhead. Black tattoos darkened the grey paint. An acrid whiff rose from the burn marks. Urgraf strolled past a door at the end of the berth. "…that bloody dog. Waste of an hour, if you ask me."

"Don't know what the fuss is about. It's just a mutt. Can't conspire against us."

I stuck my head around the corner. Trip? Inside another sleeping berth on the opposite side of the corridor, a pillow lay on the deck along with pieces of a tabletop chrono. A locket with a broken lid cracked beneath my heel. A tiny pict nestled inside the heart-shaped locket. The name Yulia was inscribed inside the lid. Two people, one of very dark complexion and one quite paler, stood arm in arm. Neither smiled.

"Trip?" I crept through the darkened, empty berths. "Triptolemus?" A muffled whine came from a storage box covered by leather seating. "Where are you?" I felt along the cushions and dug my fingers beneath one that came loose and pivoted upwards. Five more came away. Triptolemus lay on woollen blankets with his head between his paws. "It's me, pal." I rubbed a knuckle between Trip's ears. Trip lifted his head. His tongue shot out and licked my wrist. "Good boy for keeping quiet. Come on, out you come."

Claws clacking on the deck, Trip kept to my heel. He pointed his nose at a closed turbolift when I walked past it. "Huh? D'you want to go in there?" I slapped the palm-press. "Yeah, why not." Inside the lift, my stomach plummeted. Trip wagged his tail.

A carpeted landing overlooked a sprawling lounge. My hand closed around a golden railing. Marble pillars supported the landing on the far side of the lounge. Huge engravings occupied a vaulted ceiling. Far to my left, a grand staircase led down to the floor. Giant, opaque orbs hung from the ceiling in clusters of five. I ran a finger along the polished metal. It came away clean.

At the foot of the staircase, fat clay pots stood on plinths. Leather-backed chairs surrounded dozens of different tables with squares and numbers inside them. Some long, lozenge-shaped tables, others shorter and with fewer chairs around. A projector, shaped like a tall tree stump, showed a three-dimensional map of the ship creeping across the sub-sector. Shutters beyond the map blocked out the pink vortex.

"Master?" A mechanical being stood up behind a bar. Slight and thin-boned, the being rolled its shoulders. In the grey of the Inquisition, the thing looked human if not for the circular grill grafted to its lower face and the green eyepieces embedded where its organic eyes had been. Tubes ran from its mouthpiece and around to the back of its collar. Wispy blonde hair poked from its crown. Glasses filled racks behind the being and huge reservoirs rose towards the ceiling. "Triptolemus, did you bring a friend?" The being pivoted and set a glass on top of the bar. "Master's orders. Your first is on the house, sir. What can I provide you with?" Trip padded closer to the bar and curled up beneath a stool. "What can I provide you with, sir?"

"How'd they miss you?" I perched atop the leather stool and laid my forearm on the wooden surface. My right buttock pressed against the Cyvox.

"I beg your pardon, sir. I do not understand. I am Technomat Echo Lima 2174, but the master called me Elden. Will you permit me to serve you?"

"The mercenaries—men with guns. How'd they miss you?"

"If you mean the guests in black, not one registered interest in me."

"Thought not."

"Are you in pain, sir?"

"You a doctor?"

"I serve, sir." Elden placed a square bottle on the bar and removed the stopper. "Medicae practise is as foreign to me as the xenos menace assailing our borders, though I can say with sincerity that my service has been known to help in the past, be it with spiritual pain, physical pain, even heartbreak."

My fingertips pushed beneath the dressing encircling my hand. Dirty nails dug in to the cut. My head drooped. Liquid splashed and glass slid across the bar. "If you permit, sir, you wear the mask of a man with few things precious left to him." Pale gold liquid sat in the glass, no more than a finger. "My master found his way here many a time."

My fingers curled around the glass. "What was his pain then?"

"Of the heart. The burden of all beings. So many men, young men, once came to my bar wearing the same mask as you. All the same. Two-hundred years, and still these men come. Nothing will change."

I sneered. "All the power and money in the Imperium and he couldn't just settle down and leave us alone."

"Us, sir?"

I tipped the glass back and swallowed. Fire rose in my throat and travelled deeper. "Eurgh. All those stories you heard." I pressed my thumb and forefinger against my throat. "Hm-hmm."

"Yours is no exception, sir."

My shoulders dropped. "No. Not first or last."

"Yours begins and ends as every other. You enter and you leave. If it is with the will to change… that is up to you, sir."

"Everything under the sun you've heard."

"From eighteen to eighty, sir. As ordered by the master, I am unable to pass on anything you say to any other party. Secret-keeper, the title bestowed upon me." Elden moved the bottle across to me. "This is on the house, sir."

"First bottle? What happened to first drink?"

"On the house, sir." Elden poured. "Tell me your woes."

"Your master's made his last visit."

"I suspected as such. Valiant and vagabond alike. Cadia marks us all."

"…Cadia." I sucked air through my teeth and dragged my fingers through my hair.

"Please allow me to apologise. I am sorry for your loss, sir, as sorry as I can be."

Fire ran down my throat. "I'm sorry too."

"I do not understand, sir."

"He was just doing his job." A bubble rose in my throat. "She and I weren't."

"She, sir?"

My chest trembled. "Izu—" My shoulders hunched. I leaned forwards and pressed my mouth against the back of my hand. "Mmm, um…" I felt inside my trouser pocket and brought out the locket. "I found this. Err, guess it belongs to someone 'ere." Chain and locket slid across to Elden. "Yulia?"

Elden bent his upper body. "Flight Lieutenant Yulia Singh. A member of the bridge crew. How did you acquire this, sir?"

"I found it in the sleeping berths. Urgraf's taken the crew hostage. He's purging your master's staff."

"Who is Urgraf?"

"Not the mercs. Commander Sorge. He's—"

Elden straightened up. "Welcome, sir. I did not know the Imperial Navy were guests."

I rubbed at my tear ducts and swivelled the stool. Richard Sorge descended the stairs. "Funny the things we tell our bartender we would not our friends."

"The first is on the house, sir."

Sorge took a stool at the far end of the bar. "Whiskey, straight-up."

"Yes, sir."

"It's programmed responses are limited at best, James. My nephew never possessed a technical mind." I turned the glass around and ran my thumb along the rim. "I wouldn't bother trying for conversation."

"Whiskey, sir." Elden set a glass in front of Sorge.

"Single-malt." Sorge shunted the bottle away. His eyes remained on me. "Restless night, James? Unable to sleep?"

"Sir." I stared at the inside of my glass.

"Attractive, the inside of a bottle, isn't it? The decline of humanity. Drink to forget."

"Drink to remember." I held my empty glass up. "C Company, One-Four-Four Battalion."

Sorge raised his. "And the future."

"Did you know, your nephew pulled strings to send me there. Me and a dozen others sent off to the frontline. Everyone else got penal or the post. I think he liked me." I put my finger inside the glass and spun it. "Then I betrayed him."

"You did us a service. The Imperium is a better place thanks to the actions of you and other independent assets."

"Independent assets…"

"Yes, James, assets. To the bureau, you are either an asset or a liability. It is my job, among others, to separate the assets from the liabilities and ensure the formers' talents are employed in as constructive and efficient a manner as is humanly possible."

"The—the crew, they were a liability, were they?"

"All elements of my nephew's retinue are being retired, James. Their services will be recorded."

My fingers tightened around the glass. "Can't even say it, can you?"

"Say what?"

"When none of 'em raised a finger against you. Did the bureau tell you to do this?"

"No. I prefer the house to be clean before I move in. No mould behind the sink, so to speak."

I gathered the locket's chain in to my fist and let the locket dangle. "Yulia Singh?"

"I'll take that, James." Sorge opened his hand. "That's none of your business."

"There were scratch marks in the walls. Innocents dragged out of bed in the middle of the night." I flicked my wrist at Sorge. "Sound familiar?"

Sorge snatched at the locket. "Please, James. Consign these romantic ideals to the Warp."

"That bloke in the pict there with Yulia. He'll never know why he was made a widower."

Sorge pressed his glass against his brow. "You are entering—on the verge of entering a very dangerous world where loose tongues are cut and childish morals beaten from the soul, James. This is the way of Humanity. We are a committee of middle-aged men ruling inside little grey offices." Sorge drunk. "If you mistake ours for an honourable profession, you are better off on the frontline."

"At least Zeke had the decency to come at us properly. Not getting other poor saps to off their enemies. Friends don't hug with one hand and hide the knife behind their back with the other. We look out for each other. I'd try and explain the honour between battle-buddies but you wouldn't understand. You officers."

"If you think we are honourable men…"

"Certainly think you're something. Murderer."

"Mmm." Sorge sat his glass on the bar top. "Why is killing Chaos renegades and Astartes in combat honourable, but a few traitorous vagrants of a dying regime murder? We are at war, James, with enemies foreign and domestic."

"Why couldn't you have just left it alone? You've got the ship. You've got the guns too."

"We'll talk more once we're berthed at Belis Corona, James. During your convalescence, I want you to think very hard whether you wish to follow this through."

"Whiterock, sir. I saw Whiterock in the medbay."

"I don't know who that is."

"You let Urgraf fly off the hook."

"James…"

"I feel sorry for you, you know. How wretched your job is." I filled my glass and lifted my shaking hand to my lips. "Thought you were better than the Inquisitor. You're worse."

"With the Inquisitor's removal comes the termination of his office and all employees. If you don't follow a job all the way through, why do it?"

"Purge, sir."

"I'm sorry?"

"Purged."

"If you must call it that." Sorge's eyes turned to Trip. "Disconnect your thoughts from the hound. It is to be put down."

I gripped the bottle by the head and poured the rest in to my glass. Trip stood up and followed me along the bar. I slammed the empty bottle on to the bar top and threw the contents of my glass in Sorge's face.

"Another," I heard Sorge say in the lounge beneath me. Trip followed me in to the turbolift. I pushed the down button and waited for the door to slide shut. Reaching for my back pocket, I felt inside for the Cyvox and clicked the stop key.

Trip and I left the turbolift and pottered down to the medbay. "Move. Coming through!" Two Urgraf in ballistic vests rushed past.

"What's going on?" I jogged after the Urgraf.

"Get back to bed!" One flung a finger at me. At the office, the Urgraf headed right and met another Urgraf, Captain Bukharin, Korne, Haber, and two other members of the surgical team. "Where is he, ma'am?"

"The Cadian's in Storage."

"Where?"

"Around the corner and at down the far end on the right."

"Is she armed?"

The Urgraf already with Captain Bukharin nodded. "It's my fault, ma'am. I'm sor—"

"Hollweg, leave it," Bukharin said.

"Ma'am, could I talk to Susannah?" I pushed through the Urgraf.

"Absolutely not, Lieutenant." Bukharin glared. "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm her friend. I know her, ma'am. I'll talk to her."

"You'll do no such thing, Lieutenant."

"So, it's just the Cadian inside then, ma'am?"

"Correct."

"We could wait her out then?"

"Stay where you bloody are. Trip, you stay too." I pointed at the deck. "Stay."

"Lieutenant, I forbid you." Captain Bukharin moved in front of me. "Return to your bed or I'll have you escorted there."

"Anyone got a better idea? Anybody?"

"You should really be in bed, James," Haber said.

Captain Bukharin's hand shot at my shirt. "Is that alcohol?"

"Seroni!"

I met Bukharin's eye. "You'll have to explain yourself to the commander then, ma'am."

"Seroni, let him go please," Haber said. The armed Urgraf's hands rested on their holsters. "If he wants to try, let him."

"I'd be grateful if you'd watch Trip for me."

Bukharin let go of my shirt. "That bloody dog."

"We'll watch him," Korne said. "Be careful, James."

My fingers touched the palm-press. The doors unlocked and parted. "Don't! Stay back or I'll shoot."

"Susannah?" Rows of iron shelves holding locked containers ran through the cupboard. Cold storage lockers lined the far wall. "It's James."

"Don't come any closer. You're not taking me back. I won't be put to sleep!"

"I don't want to take you anywhere." I ducked and peered through gaps in the shelves. "I've got something to show you. You'll like it."

"Leave. Just leave."

"Susannah, please don't shoot. I want to talk, just talk." I crept along an aisle.

"I can hear you moving."

"I can't show you if I don't find you. Listen, I'm unarmed and I've only got one arm. I came for a natter, that's all."

"Natter?"

"A chat. You've no idea how boring it is sitting in a ward filled with bloody Urgraf. No-one but Urgraf. Remember when we talked about the trees? The fish too. You know, I bet there's seafood going here. Nice bit o' shrimp. Get it going with some noodles too. Dunno about you, but I fancy some of that—NO-NO!" I ducked behind the end of the row. "I can see a muzzle pointed at me." I extended my arm and waved my hand. "No guns. Nothing. I'm on my own. I don't want you to be alone. Trust me, I know what it feels like. Can I come out?"

"Promise me you won't let them put me to sleep."

"I promise, Susannah. I promise." Hand raised, I moved out past the end of the aisle and approached the far corner. A wavering muzzle protruded from the shadows beneath a counter.

"Don't come any closer."

"Hello, Susannah." I performed a slow spin. "No guns, see?"

"What's in your back pocket?"

"This?" I touched the bulge of the Cyvox. "It's called a Cyvox. It plays music. Here, I'll show you." I kept my back to Susannah and laid the Cyvox on the counter.

"How? I—I—it's too small."

"Nope." I picked a tape out of my front pocket. "Music's recorded on these tapes. You ever heard of Sinna, Rogue Servitors, Grausome Tusks?"

"No."

"I had hoped for Rezin. Geddard Rezin, you heard of him?"

"No."

"Don't you want to listen?"

"To what?"

"To any of the tapes." I wiped the earbuds down on my trousers. "They're here if you want them."

"Don't. Don't!" Susannah turned the muzzle to her temple.

I perched on the edge of the counter. "Don't have to."

"Don't have to what?"

"Don't have to listen. Me or the music." My feet dangled. "Just glad you're alright."

The laspistol lowered and sat on Susannah's thigh. "I'm… I'm the last one, aren't I?"

"Nah, course not. There were thousands of your people on that Marine ship. Y'know they'll reform, the Cadian regiments will. Too important to demob and disperse your lot in to other units."

"I'm not alone?"

"Never."

"I thought I was the last Cadian alive on Henna-Morata. I don't think you understand how that feels."

"No, I do, I do. It hurts. Hurts more than this arm does right now, I can tell you."

"The fire. It burned the tent down and took everyone inside with it. I wanted to slice the flesh off my body just to make it stop hurting." Susannah shifted forwards. White gauze coated the left side of her face, from her neck to her ear and across her cheek and brow. A violet eye, wet, blinked at me. "It keeps hurting. I prayed and prayed for the pain to stop but it didn't. It's still eating my face. Can you give me a new face, James?"

"I… I spoke to the commander. He'll make sure your medical costs are paid for. Prescriptions, any of those are sorted too. Don't worry, Susannah, I'm here for you."

"How will decent, kind folk be able to look upon this deformed creature now? I'm crippled. Imperfect." Susannah tilted her head up. Her lips stretched and tears squeezed from her eye. "They won't want a useless eater serving in the field."

"You don't have to serve in the field anymore. We'll be working for the commander. He wants veterans in his unit. You've still got it up here." I tapped my brow. "Sharp mind. You're a sergeant of Logistics. Up here's where you keep your weapons. Got a better mind than I have. If I don't know how to get something running, I give it a whack, that's me. Keen minds geared towards logic, that's ideal for INI."

"W-what's INI?"

"Naval Intelligence. Some special unit Sorge runs."

"I'm—we—are not navy though."

"Some sorta joint-operation. I know as much as you do; bugger all. Be best for both of us if I put us forward together, that way Sorge won't have any choice. It's that or prison for me."

"Prison? For aiding the xenos?"

"Nah, much earlier than that. Different time, different place. Got caught out, was all. Three months in a cell then Sorge comes and walks me out. He's dangling me by the bollocks now. All I can do is say yes."

"Or it's back to prison?"

"Or to a penal outfit someplace." I sucked in my lower lip. "Never going back on the frontline. Ever. Did my time. Now I'm walking out with a gammy arm and someone else's commission."

"Someone else's?"

"You know I don't deserve this."

"Was it only you that escaped Cadia?"

Gooseflesh ran up my neck and across my head. "Couple o'… Couple o' mates got off too. Erm…" I pressed my hand against my shirt pocket. "Yeah." My head bobbed. "Yeah." I picked up the Cyvox and got down from the counter. "You want to give 'em a listen? I'll, uhh, pop off and get you some scoff. Hot stuff-like." I set the Cyvox and the tapes by Susannah's knee. "Susannah…?" My hand moved past the laspistol and touched the dressings circling her forearm. "I'm here for you."

Back out in the corridor, Laspistols rose and aimed at me. "No-no, it's me!"

"Took your time in there. What happened?"

"Susannah's just a bit turned around."

"Where's the gun, James?"

"No guns! If you think guns and shouting is gonna solve this, you're a bonehead."

"Is she coming out?" The red-haired Urgraf bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Any of you know how to cook?"

"What the hell do you mean, any of you know how to cook? Lieutenant, the Cadian holds our only storage cupboard. Without our stores, we cannot operate safely." Captain Bukharin slammed the side of her fist against the wall.

"Listen, she's frightened you'll put her to sleep—"

"—Of course we sedate her. It's part of the process!"

"She wants a new face."

"Don't talk rubbish. Your Cadian shall receive skin grafts and a prescription, once the very seriously injured have been operated on. SHE'LL BLOODY WAIT HER TURN!"

"Err…" The red-haired Urgraf stuck his hand up. Everyone's heads turned on him. "I can cook."

Pepper, onion, beansprout, shrimp, and egg hissed on the metal surface. The Urgraf cook, Hollweg, turned the ingredients over and over with two slices. "How those noodles coming along, sir?"

I scooped up the noodles in a sieve. Water drained from the bottom. "What's this sir bollocks? I'm not one o' you lot. Just call me James. I don't care."

"You're not a Cadian, if you don't mind me saying."

"I'm nobody." I shook the last of the water out of the noodles. "'Ere, hundred and fifty grams should be enough for one."

"Never would've thought to do this. Any of us would just knock her out and throw her over our shoulder."

"Come on. That's not the way. Don't try and deny or shout it down. She had a gun to her head, mate. Only thing you can do is talk to her."

"Right, can you drop those noodles on a plate and I'll pile this on top, sir?"

"Listen, call me sir again and I'll let it out that you took Inquisition hostage and conspired to murder them."

"Wha-at?"

"I saw the body."

"No… We—we wouldn't. Why would we…? I—I don't understand."

"C'mon, pile that scoff on 'fore it gets cold, mate. Susannah's hungry."

"I'm—I'm serious. Why would Urgraf do that to the crew?"

"Ahh, forget it. Had a bad run trusting people, I 'ave."

"That goes against all sensible reason."

"Reason? You think these people act with reason? Petty, s'what it is." Traitorous vagrants of a dying regime.

The food had cooled by the time Hollweg and I returned to the medbay. Captain Bukharin, Haber, Korne, and the other Urgraf sat or leaned against the wall. Trip got up and wagged his tail. "God-Emperor, you took your time! All to make a damned meal for the Cadian too!"

"Good boy, Trip. Thanks for the help, Hollweg." I took the plate from Hollweg's hands. "I'll get Susannah out after she's eaten, ma'am. Thank you for being patient." I smiled at Bukharin. Bukharin pursed her lips and barged past me.

"Susannah? Susannah, it's James. I've brought you hot scoff. Well, hot as it gets 'ere."

"Are you alone?"

"Mm-hm." I headed over to the counter and sat the plate down in front of Susannah. "Wolf that down sharpish. Get cold otherwise."

"You—you cooked this?"

"Wha-hah! The one-armed chef?"

"The one-armed kitchen bandit." Susannah's lips curled. "Mm-hm-hm."

"Come on then, have that down ya."

"I can't eat if someone's watching."

"Aw, the inner household pet speaking there?"

"Household pet!"

"Heh!" I hopped up on to the counter and drew the Cyvox over. Inside the compartment, the blank tape sat. I frowned at Susannah. "Did you listen to my…?"

"What do we do, James?" Susannah coiled noodles around her fork.

I ejected the tape and pocketed it. "Do what the commander tells us."

"And any toes out of line and we go where Kernow went? What about the hound?"

"Trip's with me. That's where he's staying. As long as you're with me, the commander can't touch you."

"Ruthless."

"Like uncle, like nephew, I guess. I don't understand the rules of this game."

"Rules?"

"Well, it's nothing like it is in the field. I don't think I'm cut out for this. Romantic ideals." I took the pict out and unfolded it.

"Romantic ideals. Surely they are dead and buried at Cadia?"

"Hmph." I tucked the pict away. "Enjoying that?"

"It's lovely."

"Thank an Urgraf for that. Hollweg. I just did the noodles."

"I wasn't expecting a full platter. Thank you, Offworlder."

"Thought I heard something different then."

"James."

"Nice to meet you." I slipped down and offered Susannah my hand. "Susannah." The laspistol sat on the floor next to her. My hand closed around the body and took it. "Be plenty of your lot at Belis Corona. Logistics people too."

"What about yours?"

"Nah." I put the laspistol on the counter out of Susannah's reach. "D'you like the shrimp?"

"I do, thanks. It's all lovely."

"Dunno why they couldn't have done some of this for us, instead of that orange gloop. Any idea what that was?"

"Liquid slab with food colouring for all I know." Susannah laid her fork and spoon together. "Have you ever had slab?"

"Nope."

"If you're ever offered, I'd decline politely."

"Take your word for it. If you'll allow me." I laid Susannah's plate on the counter. "Up you come…"

"Thanks." Susannah's hand took hold of my wrist and I pulled her upright. "So, when are you showing me to this bar?"

"What bar?"

"No, no, no, the Almighty hates lies." Susannah poked my shoulder. "If you dare try and hide a bar from me, there'll be trouble. Come on now. I won't tell anybody else."

"When you're better. Plonk slows down the mending. We'll go bottoms-up once you're fixed."

"Promise?"

"Promise. D'you want to come back with me?"

Captain Bukharin leaned against the wall just outside the door with her arms folded. I handed the laspistol over to her butt-first. "Ma'am. Room's clear now."

Bukharin took the weapon and let it hang by her side. "Lieutenant?"

"Ma'am?"

"Second door on the right."

"Ma'am." The other Urgraf further down the corridor watched Susannah and I. Those armed kept hands on pistol holsters. "Is this the ward here?"

"It is."

"Right." I walked with Susannah along to the empty bed with the crumpled sheets at the far end of the ward. "This you?"

"Yes." Susannah sat down on the mattress and swung her legs up.

"Next time…" I put my hand on Susannah's shoulder and said in her ear, "we're at the bar."

"Behind you."

Commander Sorge waited by the doors with four armed Urgraf wearing vests and ceramite. "Yeah, looks like it." I reached for the Cyvox and put it and the tapes on the table next to the bed. "Keep it safe."

"I liked the Rogue Servitors best. Both sides of it."

I felt inside my boot and pried the plastic packet from inside. "Hold on to this. D'you know what it is?"

"I know what it is."

"Take care. Don't plant it without me."

"I wouldn't have a clue how."

"Makes two of us then." I winked.

Urgraf sat either side of and opposite me in the carriage. Commander Sorge stood. I sat up straight, head up and shoulders back, watching the streaks of light pass the windows. The doors opened on Containment L – 01 and the Urgraf escorted me off the platform. Sorge, at my heel, followed me all the way through the containment facility, up until the cell door sealed behind me.