(IV) - Eating Death

by PhantomStag458

Cadia burns, hope fades. Decimated by the Forces of Chaos, the broken remnants of the Imperial Guard and Navy flee the ruptured Cadian Gate and the spreading Warp rift. With his allies lost, newly-promoted 2d Lieutenant Larn is forced in to the organisation known as INI and finds himself a pawn in the schemes of the mysterious figures within. The final chapter in the Grunts Series.

32. Chapter 32

Hotel Vekaria

A latch scraped. Steam drifted in from the bathroom. My head squished a cushion against the wall by 413's door. The Moses' hard body cut in to my thigh. "Take your pick. Smart dress code." I tipped my chair forwards. "I'll be outside."

A white robe swathed Izuru's body and a towel her hair. Reddened eyes fell upon the clothing folded and stacked on the bedcovers. "Is this how you develop trust?"

"Sentimental value." I tucked the Moses in at the small of my back. "Hides behind the pillow mostly."

"You lied." Izuru perched on the edge of the bed. "It wasn't one minute past."

"You were coming off that roof with me or your gods." I plunged my hand down on the door handle. "Doesn't look like they wanted to know you."

Pottery fragments lay in a little pile beside the column standing in an alcove around the corner from 412 and 413. My crossed ankles jiggled. A door clicked shut down the hall. "James?"

"Round 'ere." I pushed back my chair. "Ready then?"

Uncreased, olive grey cotton rustled. A pair of trousers in PDF squares pattern rasped. The bloused hems hung over black, canvas boots. Izuru laid her hand on the corner. "Ready."

"Address me you would the ambassador." I approached Izuru.

"Sorry?"

"Imagine I am the ambassador. Speak to me you would her."

Izuru's chin dropped to her breast and her eyebrows shot up. "Err, Madam Ambassador, my gratitude for seeing me at such late hour."

"Lady Numerial, is this a declaration of war?"

"Er, I beg your pardon?"

"Come on." I stepped around Izuru. "We're not playing soldiers anymore."

"I am—we are soldiers."

"You stopped being a soldier, the moment you entered Lutufeyo. They weren't Zeke, they weren't Inquisition or Cadian…" I wrenched 413's door handle down. "Izuru." Izuru dug the keycard from a breast pocket and handed it over. "Let me ask you something." I wagged a finger and led Izuru back inside 413. "When are you going to stop?"

"Stop?"

"Shut the door—when are you going to stop fighting?" I flung my arm at the clothing piling the bed. "There's everything there to start anew but you insist on laying in to the galaxy with tooth and claw." I dropped in to the seat by the door and tipped it back. "Be better than a butcher. Be the lady to your kin. Be the mother to your children."

"I stopped being a mother, the moment I conceived." Izuru slumped on a pile of jackets and brought her knees together. "No-one was less suited for motherhood than me. All I knew was this." Izuru pulled the Moses out from beneath her jacket laid it on her thigh. "Not this." She took a black bra from a pile of underwear and dangled the wide cups by her finger. "This…"

"It's a bra—"

"—I know what it is." Izuru ran her hand up the lacings of a green dress. "I have always let my deeds speak louder than the clothing I wear, the language I use. The comfort of camouflage is nobody ever looks at you twice. Or even once at that…"

I took the Moses and shook it by the body at Izuru. "If Urgraf or the Spartacists catch you with a gun, they're gonna pull out your fingernails… the ones you've got left." I popped the pistol inside a sliding drawer. "I can't make this decision for you. I can show you. I can't force you."

"You are the one with the gun."

"I told you, sentimental value. Saved our lives, in case you forgot! Now, please would you dress suitably, ma'am? We're overdue the ambassador."

Izuru cocked her head and ran two fingers behind her ear. "Would you leave?"

"Will you dress suitably. Your word as an Eldar?"

"I am not sure I have a right to that anymore."

"You word as a mother."

"Nor to that."

"As a woman."

"Must that define me? I would rather just be Izuru. Let me be Izuru."

"Very well." I backed out and shut the door behind me.

PDF sentries came down from a higher floor and trotted past me sitting at the head of the staircase. Thunder rumbled outside. Every few minutes the lights flickered. I picked at my fingernails and hummed. Soft shoes padded the carpet behind me. Flowing material swished.

"I have to ask…" I twisted and leaned back on my elbows.

"Ask what?" A pale belt throttled a green dress styled in a leaf pattern around Izuru's waist. All her hair was scraped over her crown and held in a tight bun.

"You're a card, you are." I smiled up at Izuru.

"Card?" Izuru moved down the stairs to my eye level.

"Green does you well." I lurched forwards and hobbled down to Izuru. The bite on my leg pricked.

"Ask me."

"That paint on your face…" I whirled a finger around my face.

Izuru's shoulders heaved. Ridges cut along her forehead. "…Death mask."

"A death mask?"

"Not that I'd even know what one looks like." Izuru rubbed a pink eyelid. "I copied the design from that sports shirt."

The blood bowl shirt? I peered over the banister. "Hold fire for a sec."

"Trouble?"

PDF climbed the stairs two floors below us. "Hurry." I swung around the ninety-degree turn and pulled Izuru on to the second-floor landing. "Glad you left the heels behind."

"Another few inches, you'd be staring up my nose." Izuru flattened herself against the wall with me. "The embarrassment of that would be enough to put me down for good." The PDF sentries clomped up the stairs and continued to the third floor.

"Don't joke about that."

"If we can't enjoy humour, what is there left to enjoy?" Izuru hitched her skirts up and carried on down the staircase.

"It's your life! From what I'm seeing, you're getting a second shot." I loped after Izuru. "Isn't that important to you?"

"My life didn't seem to be all that important to the Ynnari, the Zalileans, or you humans. I am an asset of yours, just as much as I was the Prophet's."

"Do you think the ambassador would agree with that?"

"The only blood that matters to the ambassador is Zalilean blood."

"Your life is most precious to those little treasures out there. Without you, they have nobody."

Izuru cupped an elbow and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. Thin cuts marked the taut skin on her fingers. She swung away from me and leaned over a landing balcony.

"If you need a moment…"

"I'm f—I'm fine." Izuru brushed loose strands behind her ear. "Show me to the ambassador."

"Of course. Just round here." I rapped on the door to the conference room. "I'll announce your arrival, come out, you head in, and I'll wait outside for a bit."

"A bit?" Izuru worked her thumb inside her dress's collar. "A minute? An hour?" Shadows deepened beneath her brows.

"I have other business to attend to tonight." I pushed inside the conference room. "Madam Ambassador?" Setsiba Galah-Shah's head rested in the crook of her elbow on the table. Dregs occupied an empty tumbler beside her. A spare tumbler sat with an uncorked bottle of Kemerald White at Setsiba's elbow. A clocked ticked behind her. "Madam Ambassador?" I manoeuvred the adjacent chair aside and bent over Setsiba. "Madam Ambassador, the Lady Numerial is outside."

"Mmm…" Setsiba's bent arm slid off the table. "Hullo, deathly face." Setsiba stretched out her arms and opened and closed her fists.

"Hullo, madam. I have the Lady Numerial outside with compliments and apologies for tardiness."

Setsiba reached for her bottle. "Go on, send her in."

Is she drunk? I made the length of the table and rounded the far end. That won't go down well.

"The ambassador will see you now." Out on the landing, I tugged my cuff away from my chrono. "Ma'am?"

"Thank you, James." Izuru set her belt straight and pushed inside the conference room. I threw my arm out and caught the door before it could slam shut.

My folded arms rested on the balustrade. In the lounge below me, a cleaner played a duster across a framed painting. Behind me, the door opened and Izuru swept on to the landing. "Did you give her cigarettes?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Smoke wreathes her. Alcohol sours her breath." Izuru leaned back on the balustrade and folded her arms.

"The ambassador has been under a great deal of stress, this past week. All responsibility for Zalilea rests on her shoulders. It's enough to drive anyone to drink and smoke. I told you about the massacre, didn't I?"

"I know about the massacre." Izuru shuddered and dug her fingers in to her collar. "You know, I never bothered to learn any of their names. All I saw were foreigners, hostiles worthy only of suspicion." Izuru picked at dead skin on her fingertips. Her gaze dropped to the carpet. "Something found me beyond the veil. Something hungry. It has followed me ever since. The Ynnari, Macragge, Lutufeyo. She is now a bigger part of me than my sons are."

"Okay." I planted an elbow on the balustrade. "I've been exactly where you are. No bars, no locks, no walls or roof. Just about fits in here." I touched my forehead. "I'm not gonna smile and say everything will be alright 'cause it won't. You can never return home, not after what's happened."

"So, a lost soul, torn from its lands, condemned to wander?"

"You can wander seeking meaning forever, trying to justify everything you've gone through, looking for reason where there's no reasoning. Do you think you've one of a kind? You're just another lost soul floating in the void. These lost souls gravitate towards one another, and when they do, so does their pain. Pain, to me, are the friends I've lost reminding me they're still with me." I laid two fingers over my heart. "Every day, every night in that cell for two years, their voices."

Izuru laid her hands on the balustrade beside me. "And your soul?"

"I found the Emperor in prison. Lots of guys like me in Espiotis. Lost souls." I rolled up my sleeve to my shoulder. Black ink formed a shield. Two yellow arrows crossed the face. "Found the Roaneks inside. Got me inked and all. Those two arrows mean I'm a corporal in the 2-1s."

"Two-Ones?"

"Three of the biggest gangs in Espi—2-1s, 2-2s, and 2-3s. You rank up, the more time you do. And if you're not at least a 2-1…"

"You are…?"

"A wife. Plenty o' those inside. Institutionalised, can't stand the thought of the outside world."

"How were you chosen?"

"They came for me in the shower—just the one senior noncom. A 2-1 recruiter. A bar o' soap saved me. Brand new, gave me a brick to hit with." I flexed my tingling fingers. "The Neks are my third family after the Crotch and my old man and woman, Emperor rest their souls."

"Crotch…" Izuru's lips pursed. "Now that I do remember."

"How much do you remember?"

Izuru's chest rose. Her eyelids drooped. "You know, I don't even have the energy to keep pretending I don't." Her head tipped forwards and fell in to her hand. "…I remember everything."

I slid a keycard over to Izuru. "Now more than ever, you need a family."

"You and the other—"

"—I am not that man. At Cadia, I said things no nineteen-year-old had any business saying. Do this now. Do it for the ambassador and for the little ones." I squeezed Izuru's wrist. "Do it for them."

A lump bobbed beneath Izuru's chin. She stepped back and left me alone on the landing. My head sagged. I scratched at my itching scalp. We can't do this. Not again. I paced about for another ten minutes. Numerals on my chrono ticked past the hour. Selfish and stupid.

Dressed in PDF squares, I came down to the deserted entrance hall. Ovi van der Beek sat alone in the ring of chairs. Shiny saliva clung to his chin. A folding-stock Kazalak sat in his lap. "Guv'nor!" I jiggled Ovi's arm.

"Urgh…" Ovi pawed at his chin and swiped the saliva away. "Too comfy here."

"You got everything?" I dragged my combat vest out from beneath Ovi's chair and pulled it on. The Volg pocket pistol bulged inside an ammunition pouch.

"Everything but your rifle." Ovi rolled his neck. "There's a workman's entrance facing north."

"South, mate."

"There is more cover north of the hotel. We—we sweep round."

"Alright, your town, not mine."

Bins throttled a side passage out of the hotel. Rain pattered on a glass roof covering a pathway winding down in a zig-zag pattern in to a tall hedge maze overshadowed by trees. Our boots crunched on a stony path leading through the maze and in to the trees beyond. Raindrops fell through the undergrowth. Ovi crunched and rustled behind me. The clip holding the sling to his Kazalak rattled. Twigs snapped.

"I'm not dying for a slant-ear."

"There's not one more soul, human, slant-ear, blueskin, getting wasted with us. We will do this without firing a shot. Just trust me."

"Placing faith in an OSEC…"

"You're 'ere because you're OSEC, mate. Them lot under Q and the chief will bin it out once Urgraf drives the Spartacists up 'ere in force tomorrow. What's one more little massacre to tidy up the xenos question anyway?"

"I'd rather not read another massacre in the papers."

"Number one." Bushes clung to a brick wall choked with vines. I waded inside and thrust my hand out. "D'you want to go first?"

"Agh…" Ovi flailed through the undergrowth. "Can't see."

"You're alright, pal. Give us your hand."

"Us?" Ovi's wet hand slapped mine. "You say us."

"In you come." I stooped and cupped the air. "Fold your bundook and sling it."

"Bun-duk…?" Ovi squeezed the button at the base of the Kazalak's stock and collapsed it. "Ohh, my God-Emperor."

"Right, up you go." Ovi's boot dug in to my hands. "'Kay, three, two, one—hup!" Ovi's torso rasped through vines. "You got it?" I twisted my head away from the drops showering me.

"…Yeah." Ovi swung a leg up and rolled his body on to the parapet. "I pull you…" His arms dangled. Fingers stretched out. I leaped at Ovi. My fingers dug in to his wrist. Purple filled Ovi's brow. My feet scraped the bricks. Vines tore. "Agh…" Ovi slithered backwards.

"Okay, I've got it. Get your leg up." Leaves crackled against my shoulders.

"There is a drop." Ovi straddled the wall.

"What?" A sharp slope dropped away from the base of the wall to a road just visible through the trees. "Shit."

"I lower you."

"Number ten."

"I lower you. Your leg is wounded, I lower you." Ovi manoeuvred his legs over the wall. "Grab my hands." I seized Ovi's hands and walked down the wall. "Ready?"

"Do it." Our fingers slipped apart. Branches whipped my skin. My shoulders crashed in to the slope and I tumbled head over heels through the muddy grass.

---

INI Headquarters

A dial clicked. Innes Barakat's ear touched the cool metal. "Seven… fourteen… twenty-eight… eleven." The dial whirred. Barakat gritted his teeth and brought the dial back to the twelve o'clock position. "Seven, fourteen, twenty-eight, eleven, four." Barakat twisted the safe's handle and plunged his hand inside. Bound files fell in to his hands. An unopened cigar box and a rolled-up magazine occupied the top shelf. Barakat swept everything out and clamped files beneath his arm. The magazine hit the floor and unrolled. Skorba? Barakat smoothed the porno's creased cover. Well I never, Richard. The missus would have something to say about that. Barakat folded the magazine in two and shoved it back in the safe. His hand hovered over the handle. Sod it. Barakat retrieved the magazine and buried it inside the files.

Files bulging beneath his arm, Barakat faced the lift doors. Come on, damn you. Barakat stabbed the call button. Feet clapped upon the stairs. The doors rumbled open. Barakat stepped inside and pressed the ground floor button.

"Ground floor?" A tanned man in stained OSEC blue limped inside the lift.

"Er, yes." The OSEC's elbow bumped Barakat. "Oh!" Files spilled on to the floor. The Skorba slipped from Barakat's grasp. "Dash it."

Mud-encrusted PDF boots crossed the gap. The doors rolled shut behind them. A peaked cap shadowed a bearded man's eyes. "Didn't know you went in for that sorta stuff, sir."

"James…?" Barakat gawked at James's scratched, dirtied face.

"I'm a tit man myself…" James clasped his hands together and squatted on the lift floor. Mud dirtied his skin and his PDF Squares fatigues.

Barakat snatched the Skorba and stuffed inside his folder. "It's—it's—it's not mine. How the hell did you find me?"

"Where else are you going to go if your OC gets the nick?" James picked up a file and peeled the cover back. "Got to cover your arse somehow, 'aven't you, sir?"

"James, that's classified!" Barakat blew dirt from the fallen documents and shoved them inside his wadge. "You know there's an arrest warrant out for you."

"Operation Desensitise, Operation Deminitise, Operation Decimate." James blew air from his cheeks.

"I'm not playing silly buggers with you at this hour." Barakat held the files to his chest and got up.

"As you were, Commander." James remained squatting. His OSEC companion unzipped a long jacket and flicked it back from a slung Kazalak underfolder. "Are we the last ones?"

"Last of what?"

"The Sorge regime. You know he had Ben Vantorout killed, didn't you? Tried putting it on a slant-ear."

"I didn't know. Sorge keeps everything against his chest—"

"—You're his 2IC."

"And I'd be the last to know his secrets! There's not a bartender, doctor, or shrink that knows any more than you or I." Barakat shook the files. "This—this is a thumbnail sketch of what Sorge will take with him to the grave."

"Help me put him there."

Barakat laid a hand on his heart. "That I must respectfully refuse. As an officer and a gentleman, it is my duty to defend a brother officer."

"D'you want to bet Sorge would do the same for you, or would he knife you in the guts like he did Vantorout? Little occupies Richard Sorge's heart but Richard Sorge." James pinched the gold rings on Barakat's sleeve. "The commission justifies the means, doesn't it, sir? Can't have officers and gentlemen making free with murder, rape or robbery, can we? That wouldn't do." Barakat glanced at the OSEC. His finger held the manual stop button down. "He won't speak, Commander."

"He has a rifle."

"Nothing to do with me." James passed the operations files back to Barakat. "I have nothing."

"Please let me go. I won't say a word. That's a promise from me, not the officer."

"You remember the cruiser, don't you?"

"Er, the—the Inquisition ship?"

"Mmm. Had to have been fifty, sixty crew Sorge spaced." James swept a clawed hand across the lift. "Traitorous vagrants of a dying regime, he said."

"Look, I am not responsible for the actions of a rogue officer—"

"—Rogue officer? Never knew the man, did you, Commander? They're gonna love that answer in court, they will. Everyone up to Admiral Curzon will hear that."

"Admiral Curzon?" Barakat clutched at his collar. "What does he know?"

"He knows Sorge isn't to be trusted." James linked his fingers together and rocked on his toes. "Had a bit of a rude awakening, 'aven't you, Commander? Bet all your chips on Sorge, now he's rolled a bust. Fancy going to Espiotis?"

"The naval prison?"

"Didn't think so. Get up. We're going for a drive." Barakat rose cradling the files. The OSEC removed his finger from the manual stop and zipped up his jacket.

Fires illuminated the blacked-out city. A wire fence overlooking an anti-tank ditch ran alongside the main road skirting Orsolya's limits. Barakat's Siluvi bumped over a pothole. James crunched through the Siluvi's gearbox. Crammed in the rear seat beside the OSEC, Barakat lunged forwards. "Er, she—she's got a rough gearshift. You have to search a bit." The OSEC seized Barakat's shoulder and pulled him back in to the seat.

"What did he say when they came for him?"

"Nothing really. He just smiled and thanked us all before leaving with the provosts."

"Doesn't surprise me. He still thinks he holds all the cards." James's thumb tapped the steering wheel. "The bouncer, Estoc, where's he at?"

"Err, out of town I presume. Why—why bouncer?"

"I met him when he bounced for a brothel on Grendel. Helped me keep the administration from carpet-bombing the slums. I get prison, Estoc gets promotion, Sorge wins." James's eyes found Barakat's in the driver's mirror. "See how graceful a loser he'll be now."

White lights glimmered in the distance. James dragged the Siluvi through another gear change. "You listening, Commander? We're the Zalilean Diplomatic Liaison Team. That's what you're saying to the gate guard when we roll up."

"Zalilean Diplomatic Liaison, right." Barakat crushed the crown of his cap. "S—sorry, we're blagging our way in to Granbo without any appointment or authorisation. Do you just expect them to let us in and wander around looking for a transport?"

"Long as there's an officer here, no-one's looking at us twice."

"Until they do." Barakat nibbled on a fingernail.

Floodlights bathed the single lane running up to Granbo's north-east entrance. Warning signs lined the dead ground flanking the road. "James, it's a thirty-zone here." Barakat dug his ID from his wallet. "Slow down."

James braked. A put-put-put came from the Siluvi's exhaust. Lights swung across the vehicle. Wipers swiped raindrops from the windscreen. At the barrier, a guard wearing a hooded raincape left his hut. A hand torch flicked at the crawling Siluvi. Bolters mounted in guard towers traversed towards the Siluvi. Knuckles struck the driver's window. Barakat wound his own window down. "Evening, Armsman."

"Good evening, sir." The torch flew across to Barakat. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Negative. I am head of the Zalilean Diplomatic Liaison Team, subsidiary of the Foreign Ministry. We are looking to arrange an off-world charter for the Zalilean and the Tau diplomatic consulate."

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander." The guard took Barakat's ID inside his hut.

"Nice one, sir." I took the Siluvi out of gear and jerked the handbrake back.

"OSEC isn't permitted access of military installations," Barakat said.

"Shit." The OSEC unzipped his jacket. "You tell this now?"

"I didn't know where we were going."

"Wait, OSEC isn't allowed or OSEC has no jurisdiction?" I twisted in my seat. "Sir?"

Barakat pressed his forefingers to his temples. "Er, er, w-w-w a warrant, a warrant!"

"There is no warrant!" The OSEC unclipped the sling holding his Kazalak and shoved the folded rifle beneath his seat.

The guard trotted over. "Sir, you're cleared to enter. Your colleague in blue is not."

"Yes." Barakat tucked his ID away. "Officer, would you mind stepping out?"

The OSEC pulled a hood up and left the Siluvi. He gripped his flapping coat halves and zipped up to his throat. Barakat laid an arm on the back of his seat and watched the OSEC limp back towards Orsolya. "He's not one of ours."

"No." James shunted the Siluvi in to gear and drove beneath the rising barrier. "One of mine." Barakat hooked his heel around the Kazalak's front sight and levered it across the dirty floor. "Remember who's in control of this vehicle before you pick that rifle up, Commander." Barakat's foot left the Kazalak. "Don't you want to save lives this time, or are you just gonna stand next to Sorge and nod at everything coming out of his lying mouth?"

"Save, save whom?"

James brought the Siluvi in to a fenced compound set aside for visitor parking and switched off. "Warp-worthy with capacity for two-hundred souls, provisioned for a month's voyage." James twisted the keys out and pocketed them. "Sound doable to you?"

"Wha—I'm not a pilot, I haven't the first idea where such a miracle vessel would be birthed."

"Let's have a look then." James shrugged off his combat vest and tucked a palm-sized handgun in his trouser pocket. "Leave the rifle!" His shoulder thrust the door shut.

Single-seat fighters stood inside individual berths within open hangars. Raindrops clung to the peak of Barakat's cap. His raised collar dug in to his neck. He dabbed a tissue at his nose and blew.

"See any patrols? Nah, me neither." James swiped drops from his nose. "Could drive the whole bloody lot up 'ere."

"Who? Is this about the massacre in the xenos enclave?"

"Surprise, surprise, Sorge and the Obrist quick-stepping over more stiffs. If this is SOP for INI then God-Emperor help you, Commander."

"James, I had no idea."

"Course not. Your job is to stand and nod. A bobbly-headed toy could do your job." Two sentries rounded the far end of the hangar. James raised his hand and waved. A heavy gauntlet waved back.

"James, let me—"

Opaque faceplates glinted. "Good evening, sir, this is a restricted area. Follow us, we'll take you to the duty officer."

"Right, thank you." Barakat clenched his fists to his sides. James strolled beside him.

"Either of you guys got a fag?"

"Sure, there'll be some with the duty officer."

"Who is it tonight?"

"Er, Chief Sainas."

"Silas?"

"Sainas."

The armsmen led Barakat and James up to a one-storey building wedged between the back of a hangar and a long terminal looking out across empty runways. One knocked on a door and entered. The other remained outside.

"Oh, good evening, sir." A chief petty officer lifted his feet from a desk piled with ready-meal packets, a cogitator, and overflowing paper trays. A neat scar bisected the grey skin on his crown. One eyelid was half-closed. A microwave on a shelf behind him whirred. "I wasn't expecting an officer at this hour. Thanks, Corporal." Chief Sainas swept crumbs from his jacket. "Err, how can I help you, Lieutenant Commander?"

The Armsman stepped outside and closed the door behind Barakat and James. "My—my name is Barakat. I'm heading the Zalilean Diplomatic Liaison Team, subsidiary to the Foreign Ministry. My superiors wish to cleanse Orsolya of xenos before further bloodshed sours diplomatic relations any further."

Ping. Chief Sainas's grey faced became pallid. "Y—yessir, what can I do?"

"Station chief." Barakat snapped his fingers at the cogitator.

"Sir." Chief Sainas flew at his cogitator and blew crumbs from his keyboard. "Excuse me, sir."

"Wait outside," Barakat said to James. His clenched fist, pressed to his side, opened. Okay? James jammed his cap on his head and left the building.

"Yes, sir. He's here." Chief Sainas, bent over his desk, clutched his receiver to his ear. "Sir, Commander Lirr."

Barakat lifted the coiled wire over the desk's partition and tucked the warm receiver against his ear. "Lieutenant Commander Barakat speaking."

"Never heard of you. What's a light commander ringing me at two in the morning for? The Navy doesn't pay overtime, you know."

"Commander, I have been appointed to oversee the cleansing of all xenos consulates from the city. I require Warp-rated transport with a capacity for two-hundred-plus souls, fuelled and provisioned for two month's voyage." The microwave's door popped open.

"On whose authority?"

"Vice Admiral Curzon's." Barakat crossed his fingers behind his back. "With the current anti-xenos climate, the Foreign Ministry is ordering a general evacuation of all diplomatic personnel, their families, etcetera. Admiral Curzon's orders further stated to forward any complaint or obstruction to him personally."

"You're best trying Pomor Sedoh if you're after a commercial flight."

"Sedoh is on the other side of the city, not to mention across the Helio. The Admiral would prefer a departure without fanfare."

"Ah, I see."

"You'd be doing INI a tremendous favour getting this ball rolling. The eyes of the Admiral may take interest in one's career."

"Let me call the tower."

"Thank you, Commander." Barakat's hand settled over his juddering heart. Tinfoil crackled. Chief Sainas plonked himself in his chair. Barakat covered the receiver. "Vegetable?"

"Sweet potato, little bit of celery…" Chief Sainas steered his fork through bright orange mush. "Mercy on the old waistline, sir."

"Leek, tubers, some onion, salt, bit of pepper. Make a nice soup there."

"Mm, bit of dipping bread along with that, sir. I know what I'm making next week."

"Er, wouldn't have a kettle on standby, would you?"

"Mm, yeah there's one in the breakroom, sir."

The line crackled. "Hello?"

"Commander." Barakat spun away from Chief Sainas.

"So, you'll be pleased to know a Styx-class Komar freighter with the necessary tonnage and capacity for two-hundred is currently berthed at Sedoh Starport."

"Excellent. How soon can it reach us?"

"Let me finish. While she is vacuum and warp-worthy, she requires fuelling, provisioning, and a crew."

"Best estimate?"

"Hours, many hours."

Barakat checked his chrono. "How long until dawn?"

"Forget it, Commander. Her tanks won't even be full come sun-up."

"Can you give me anything?"

"Six hours fuelling—roughly."

"Provisions?"

"I don't know, Commander. I'm having doubts on the legality of this exercise."

"Your doubts will be forwarded to Admiral Curzon."

"Er, I wasn't in any way hindering you, Commander. I am simply lending weight to the logistics of this operation."

"You can forward any updates from Sedoh to my personal machine. Pergoram thirty-nine, thirty-nine, eight seven four one. I'll call you again from this machine at sun-up." Barakat passed the receiver over to Chief Sainas. "Chief Sainas, quick brew?"

James leaned against the office, one hand in his pocket, one boot against the wall. An unlit cigarette protruded between his fingers. "Well?"

"Good and bad news. Tell you on the way home."

Barakat's Siluvi rolled beneath the raised barrier. Dry, chipped skin coated James's knuckles. His fingers dug in to the wheel tighter than they had on the drive in to Granbo. "It's shit, sir."

"Brainstorm me. I'm all ears if you've got a better plan." Barakat dug the Kazalak from beneath the seat and passed it grip-first in to the front.

"Talk to the Admiral tomorrow." James gripped the folded rifle one-handed and laid it on the empty passenger's seat. "Make him reconsider handing control to Urgraf and Shimago, delay him for another a day—just one day!"

"Did you even know any of the Inquisition crew. Is it something else?"

"A promise." James steered the Siluvi right at the T-junction at the end of the road. A door on an intact car parked on the far side of the street opened and the OSEC officer hobbled out. "How's the ankle?" James slammed the Siluvi to a stop beside the other car; a dark blue Vetruvi. A splint encircled the OSEC's right leg.

"Red, swollen. Hurts like a fucker."

"Find anything bigger than that banger?"

"No but there are three more like it in a safehouse."

"I need six tonners."

"You wish me to conjure the God-Emperor from the Golden Throne too?" The OSEC bent over and lifted his foot from the road.

"Ahh, not sure he'd think too highly of us doin' this." James picked up the Kazalak and pushed it out the window.

"Thanks." The OSEC shuffled over and took the rifle.

"Look, er… we're not getting this done tonight. D'you want to lie low until tomorrow? We'll be back at Granbo, first light."

"…Yeah—ugh!" The OSEC collapsed in the Vetruvi's seat. "Goercki Way. I am at 14 Goercki Way."

"Roge. Good work, mate." James fed the Siluvi in to gear.

"Oh!" A set of keys flew through the open window and bounced across the seat.

"Number one." James swiped the keys. "Take care." His foot shoved down the accelerator.

"James!" Barakat's head smacked the headrest. Through Elek the Siluvi careered, bouncing over potholes and tearing around barricades. "Damn it, James. There'll be a price to this misadventure." Barakat righted himself once the Siluvi's juddering had ceased. "Where the hell are we?"

The driver's door slammed. "Meet you at Goercki Way, first light." James brought his palm down on Barakat's window. "Let's make this happen, yeah?"

"James?" Barakat wound down his window. "He may not have many years left in the service."

"You what? We're the boot giving him the hoof to an early slam. There's no honourable discharge and pension package for Sorge."

"He collapsed yesterday."

"That's the cigars and the booze catching up. His problem, not mine." James patted the Siluvi's roof and hurried towards a set of gates fitted between two stone pillars and dug his feet in to the iron bars. Barakat made the aquila and squeezed through the gap between the front seats. God-Emperor, Innes. God-Emperor.

---

Soaked leaves dragged at my sleeves. Droplets fell free from a hedge and seeped inside my collar. I buried my nose in my arm and stifled a sneeze. Wet bootprints left a trail behind me up the zig-zag pathway and along the narrow passage leading back to the side door. I hunched over the keyset and wiggled a key in the lock. My numb fingers slid through the jangling set. Water dripped from the tip of my nose. A tumbler snicked inside the lock.

Drops pattered an empty sink. I squeezed the water from my hair and wrung my cap. A scratched, bearded face rose in a chipped mirror above the sink. I ran my fingers through the gingery-brown curls on my jaw. Izuru. Warm water trickled from a tap. I cupped the flow and wiped my face down. Make your peace. Move on.

Two drained glasses and a half-drunk bottle of Kemerald White sat on the table in the empty conference room. I screwed the cap on the Kemerald and carried it with me up to the fourth floor. Dim bulbs flickered in their brackets on the landing. I dug 412's keycard out and shoved it in the slot. A red light blinked. I yanked the card out and turned it over. 413. How did she…? I laid my fingers on the door and pushed.

Izuru, legs outstretched, sprawled on my bed. Barefoot and clad in PDF trousers and a black t-shirt, Izuru picked a biscuit from a cardboard box and chomped on it. Crumbs stuck to the thick hair tumbling down her shoulders. I dropped my battle vest on the floor and hung my jacket on a coat hanger. The Kemerald clunked on the chest of drawers. "They don't belong to you."

"They were just lying around." Izuru stuck a biscuit between her teeth and bit it in half.

"Give 'em…" I lunged for the box. "Give me the—" Crumbs poured from Izuru's mouth. "Dog biscuits!" I wrenched the box from Izuru's hands.

Izuru wiped the back of her hand across her lips. "I did wonder what Chrupku meant."

"Trip won't be happy." I pinched the flexy lid shut and shoved the box in a drawer.

"Trip?"

"Triptolemus. Good friend." I kneeled at a low cupboard and brought two glasses out. "Nightcap?"

"Nightcap…?"

"What else are you going to do?" I tucked the Kemerald beneath my arm and scooped a pack of cards out of a drawer.

"Give in to self-abuse."

I hefted the Kemerald by the neck. "Here's my abuse."

Izuru swung her body to the edge of the bed. Crumbs spilled from her t-shirt and scattered across the floor.

Two leather seats, a long couch and a chair, surrounded a low table on an oval carpet in 413. Izuru reclined on the chair cradling her Kemerald. I perched on the couch. My own Kemerald sat at the table's edge.

"We laid bare our truths, the ambassador and I." Izuru swirled her Kemerald. "Whatever good it did." I swiped a handful from my deck and laid them face-up on the table. "I may depart with the Zalilean consulate. Among them but not one of them." Izuru's fingertip hummed around the rim. "I guess it's for the best."

"What passed between the ambassador and you is yours, you keep that. I just want to know if the boys are safe." Light shone down on the Bride of Skulls I laid next to one of the pack's two Charlatans.

"Safe…" Izuru cocked her head. Her eyebrows crept together. "I guess…" Her lips puckered. "In good hands…"

"Who has them?" I swept the cards in to order.

Izuru tipped her glass back and set it down empty. "My greatest foe. No blade or bullet could hurt me more than he did. By law, he is now their legal guardian."

God-Emperor. I slid Izuru's glass over and filled it. The husband.

"Nothing but air and foolish aspirations filled my head, the day we made our bonds. I craved affection, he wished perfection."

I pushed Izuru's glass along to her. "Perfection is a myth. Let yourself out of that cell. Grow organically."

"I sat with the Prophet of Ynnead, held counsel in her inner circle." Izuru curled the maimed fingers on her right hand. "Every chance I had at perfection, I squandered. There is not a being alive who can guide me toward salvation."

"Even your bartender?" I eased Izuru's Kemerald to the table's edge. "Setsiba seemed to like this. Probably worth more than my annual."

"She'll sleep well tonight." Izuru's fingers closed around the glass. Tiny crinkles deepened in the corners of her eyes. "Thanks… bartender."

"All on the house."

Izuru laid her Kemerald down and wove between the chair and the couch. "I know I have no right. The word of a xenos, an enemy, a spy, but I must see this closed." A blank envelope landed on the table.

"For…?" I picked up the envelope and turned it round.

"For the horse without a rider and the young widow." Izuru sat back down. Her brows cast shadows over her eyes. Colour drained from her thin lips. "An apology for our sins. I know not where the widow dwells."

"I know. Thank you for this." I laid the envelope on the couch and dug a fingernail beneath the lowest card and held it up. "Two. Here's your lowest card."

"Two?" Izuru cradled her Kemerald in front of her chin and sipped.

"Four sets – Blades, Hammers, Stars, Skulls. From two, it's all the way up to ten. Then you're on the Custodes, Bride, Emperor, and lastly…" I held up a card showing an armoured warrior thrusting a sword skyward. "Champion. He's your top boy."

"Why not the Emperor?" Izuru manoeuvred her feet out from under her and placed them on the carpet.

"I dunno, it's the rules." I tossed the Charlatans aside and gathered up the other cards in to a deck.

"Shouldn't these…?" Izuru pressed a fingertip to the Charlatans and moved them over to me.

"Charlatans aren't used." I broke the deck. Card edges snapped across one another. I reformed, shuffled, then dealt two stacks of four cards face-down on the table. The rest I dealt in two piles. "Twenty-four cards for us both. Keep 'em face-down, like."

"Okay." Izuru wiggled her chair closer to the table.

"Draw four."

"What—what is the objective?" Izuru laid her elbow on the chair arm and cupped her chin in her hand.

"Get rid of all your cards here." I tapped the top of Izuru's pile. "Draw four, now lay your hand on your stack."

"Turn over?"

"Yeah." I flipped over an eight. Izuru overturned a Custodes. "Soon as I say go, we both have to discard our cards, quick as we can, either going up or down."

"I see…" Izuru sifted through her hand. "Hrgh…" She plucked at a card and laid it on the table. "Am I—is that okay?"

"Bride—yeah. Colour and suit don't matter."

"Where do I go from the Champion?"

"Back down to Emperor or starting from a two." I set a seven and an Emperor on each pile. "Draw a card whenever you like. You can't exceed four."

"Ah-ha…" Izuru threw an eight down.

"Yep—make sense?"

"Yes."

"'Kay… draw!" I scooped up two more cards and added a nine.

"Oh!" Izuru's eyes flashed between the nine and the Emperor. "Err…"

"Bride, Custodes." I thrust a ten towards the Custodes. Izuru's hand flew at the Custodes and laid a ten before me.

"Ahhh…" I withdrew my ten. "Lowest hand wins. Although…" My ten sat on the adjacent pile. "Two tens."

"Nine." Izuru smirked lopsidedly and set a nine down. "Hmph—hmph."

"Make sense to you?"

Izuru held her cards up to her face. "Draw."

Four games and an empty bottle of Kemerald White later, I threw down my cards and got up from the couch. "Agh—!" My knee bounced off the corner of the table.

"This was the decider, surely." Izuru held on to her cards. "Two wins each, James."

"Call it a draw." I squeezed past Izuru's chair and over to a cupboard.

"No." Izuru flicked her hand. Her cards sailed over the table. "I knew straightaway you were the Charlatan."

"I paid my dues." I hauled out a record player and set it on a semi-circular table by the drawn curtains. "One last dance?"

"Dance…?" Izuru swivelled in her chair. "…Ah, that's why we moved."

My fingers walked over a record collection leaning against the cupboard wall. "This one." I pinched the edge of a sleeve and pulled it out. "Sad but sweet."

Izuru's arm dangled down the back of the chair. "Where did such tastes find you?"

"Espiotis." I tipped the record out and laid it on the turntable. "Took prison to help me find my hands." I switched the record player on and extended the arm. "Found my feet too." I clamped my arms to my sides and danced forward. "Forward, forward. Right, right…"

"What is it called?" Leather creaked. Izuru's hand slid along the chair's arm.

"Back, back. Left, left—Mirror in the Mirror." My toecaps froze before Izuru's toes. Her forefinger pointed down at my boots, wiggled, and drew a circle.

Strings and a lonely piano danced in our ears. Barefoot, Izuru and I swayed. My hands held her waist, hers lay flat on my chest. Izuru's eyes rose and met mine. Her lips parted. Our noses brushed. I tilted my head and moved it in to Izuru's. She jerked her head away and whispered in my ear. "The gift." I whirled Izuru round and locked my arms across her waist. "Oh—!"

"Lie down." Izuru rolled her head back, mouth agape. A harmonica sung in place of the strings. "Lie down and close your eyes." Izuru's belly shook. She squirmed in my arms. I nuzzled her neck. "Lie down."

---

A warm pillow propped Izuru's head up. A door closed and feet padded the carpet. The mattress creaked. Fingers played through Izuru's hair and spread it across the pillow. Izuru's lips stretched. The corners curled. A cold hand dug beneath the hem of Izuru's t-shirt. Her abdominal muscles clenched then she crossed her arms and hauled her t-shirt over her head. Soft petals tickled her nose. "Ahaha, what's this?"

"Open your eyes." A flower, bright blue, caressed Izuru's lips. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I know this." Izuru drew air through her nostrils. Her eyelids drooped. "Sweet of scent, pale of petal."

"Grow it." The flower drifted beneath Izuru's chin, crept across her right breast and circled the nipple. Petals rubbed the soft flesh until it hardened. The flower rolled away and tickled her left breast. Izuru caught James's wrist by her navel, pried the flower from his hand, and laid it on the bedcovers. In her grip, James's hand moved to her waistband and slid inside and down to her lips. Izuru's back arched. Her forearm fell over her eyes.

Chest bared, James lay on his side beside Izuru. His fingers pressed in to Izuru's cheek and turned her head. Izuru wet her lips and laid them on James's. Her nails rasped through the hairs on his jaw. James's mouth opened and his tongue parted Izuru's lips. Izuru leaped back at him. Her clawed hand flattened, slipped inside his trousers, and gripped his penis. James's stomach clenched. Izuru threw a leg over him and bent her knee. He hooked an arm beneath Izuru's back and drew her closer.

Warm, damp hands parted Izuru's knees, slid up to her arms, and pinned them down. Izuru smirked up at James and bucked her shoulders. James swooped down and kissed the air above Izuru's lips. Izuru's head shot up.

"Tsss—haha!" James rocked back. "Tell me when." He let Izuru's arms go and hunched over her bent knees. "We go together."

"Together—ahh!" Izuru's knees squeezed James's sides. Her feet crossed. James's nose roved through Izuru's hair and crushed itself against her cheek. Fingernails dug in to the skin on James's back. Both bodies bled warmth.

Legs straddling James, Izuru worked her hips and flung herself forwards. Hair tumbled over James's pink face. His hand slithered beneath her arm and slipped around her slick back. Locked together, Izuru lurched upwards, her knees pinning James's sides. "Together." James's head bobbed.

"Together." Izuru clenched her jaw and threw her head back. James's body burned hers. Izuru swayed back in to James's embrace. Her shaking chest heaved against his. "Ha—hahaha!" Fire flushed Izuru's cheeks. James nipped the corner of her mouth. He sucked his lips in and held his breath. Colour darkened his own cheeks.

"Urgh—hahaha!" Air exploded from James's lips. He gripped the back of Izuru's neck and brought his sweating brow in to hers. "Together." Bulging cheeks shone. Wide eyes twinkled.

"Together." Izuru clasped James's cheeks and laid a soft kiss on his lips. They toppled sideways. Legs stretched out beneath the damp sheets. Feet rubbed together. Fingers interlocked.

Grey light peeped through cracks in the curtains. Izuru's head lay on James's shoulder. Her arm draped across his chest. "Time to wake up." James squeezed Izuru's shoulder.

"I never slept." Izuru drew circles in James's chest.

"We have to wake up."

"Another minute, please."

"A minute then."

"Ask me."

James peeled strands of hair back from Izuru's cheek. "What is it you look forward to?"

"Mmm, looking up at the stars seeing – not just a few – but all of them. I want to walk for as long as my legs will bear. When I collapse, it will be in to embrace."

"It's been a long walk, hasn't it?" James lifted Izuru's arm off his chest and edged sideways.

"Stay." Izuru pawed at James's arm.

James twisted. "We have to wake up." He dragged his body out of bed and picked up his scattered clothes. Izuru slumped on the flattened pillows and stared at the ceiling. Water hissed inside the bathroom. Izuru's lip curled. She flung the bedcovers off and tiptoed inside. James stood under the jetting water driving a razor through the white cream coating his jawline. Izuru squeezed up against James and kissed his shoulder. James took the razor away from his jaw and passed it over his shoulder. "C'mon, I'll do you too." James squirted cream in his hand and slapped it on Izuru's cheeks.

"Pfft—ahaha!" Flecks sprayed James's chest and trickled through the hair. Still clutching the razor, Izuru wrapped her arms around James's neck. Cream-plastered lips squidged together. James dug his hand beneath Izuru's leg. Her back touched the tiles.

---

Damp towels piled on the bathroom floor. Her hair wrapped up in a towel, Izuru sat on the edge of the bed with her legs stretched out and feet crossed. Izuru's canvas boots stood side by side next to my boots. The unmarked letter lay on the bedcovers. "Best lie low for now." I worked a towel over my clean jaw and tossed it in the bath. "I'll have transport up here for your lot, soon as I can. Everything's in motion. You don't have to worry about anything. Grunt guarantee."

"What can the grunt promise me that the man can't? Izuru held the mountain flower in her fingers.

"I'm not that man." I sat next to Izuru and stuck my feet inside my boots. "That was last night." I hunched over. Laces crossed one another.

"James…" Soft fingertips slid up my nape. "You are a thousand times the grunt."

"You're a thousand times the Ranger—er, is it because I've…?" I pointed at my smooth jaw. "You don't like my beard."

"Well…"

"The tickler puts years on a lad, y'know."

"Certainly put the tickles on me…" Izuru scratched a spot on her cheek. "You know the secret behind our lack of facial hair?"

"Tell me another secret."

"Izuru is a male name."

"Ahuh."

"I only discovered that after the loss of my foster-father. My uncle Solene, so recently departed, conforms to the feminine naming."

"I'm sorry for their losses."

"Don't be. They'd have hated you."

Out of Izuru's sight, I cocked an eyebrow. Them and the rest of the galaxy. "Never knew you had such a large family."

Izuru tapped her temple. "Ties that bind us all."

"The Warp?"

"Mm-hm."

"And you see things…?"

"That which has passed, that which is, and that which has yet to come. It is a gift few seers possess. It is not hereditary. It found me beyond the veil like she did." Izuru rubbed my shoulder.

"That's an Eldar secret. You keep that, it's yours." I bent over and jerked my laces tight. "We make our own future. I will not lose you a second time. You, the boys, you both deserve better."

"They deserve a better father."

"And you deserve a better bondmate. I'm sorry you had a bad run with him but that's the horrid reality of waking up."

"If this is awakening, I'd rather we slumbered eternally."

"You awoke and found a grunt with a gammy leg in your bed. Didn't know how he got there or why he did it. Couldn't even give you a good orgasm, could he?"

"Tsss!" Izuru ran a hand up her cheek. "Mmm-hmm-hmm. I missed that humour among my own kind. No, James, I had a wonderful time. The drinks, the games, the gifts."

I took Izuru's hand in mine and stood up. "Izuru…"

"I returned from beyond the veil, travelled all the way across the galaxy, lost my tongue, my family, everything, to find you." Izuru drew my hand in and kissed the knuckles. "Spirit-bound, we call it in my severed tongue. I know no equal in Gothic."

"Soulmates." I picked up the flower and played it down Izuru's neck. "That stays in slumber, like we must."

"Soulmates." Izuru tilted her head back.

"Open your eyes." Our lips touched. My thumb caressed Izuru's cheek. Dilated pupils glimmered. I laid the flower in Izuru's lap and took the letter with me to the door. I spun and snapped my fingers. "Aletheia, that was the name."

"Aletheia?" Izuru's eyebrows jumped.

"Aletheia." I laid my fingertips on my lips and blew Izuru a kiss. Izuru scooped at the air and pressed her clawed hand over her heart.

A heavily-bandaged Loay Thamer sat next to me in the PDF Wolfhound bouncing up the ramp from the Vekaria's underground carpark. "All good, James?" Thamer pulled a half-flattened fruit bar from his trouser pocket and held it out. "God, you haven't slept a wink, have you?"

"Ta." I peeled the sticky wrapper apart and bit.

"Leg okay?"

"Mm." The Wolfhound's nose drew level with the grey skyline and bumped out on to the road cutting through the gardens. At the wire, the sentries pulled the mines back from the road and opened a gap for the Wolfhound. The monument at the far end of the drive grew taller. I slid my window open and cupped my chin. 14 Goercki Way. Soulmates. I dipped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. Wake up, James.

Hammers struck the Wolfhound's windscreen, punching tattoos in the glass. "Shit!" The driver wrenched the steering wheel over. The Wolfhound careered off the road. Glass shattered. Alloy crumpled inwards. My head cracked against the front seat. I slid in to the footwell.

---

Nitzana Tower

Automatic weapons crackled across the Vekaria's grounds. Ostapenko's crosshairs followed the peppered Wolfhound off the road and wavered across the ditch the vehicle crashed in to. Further up the road, the PDF sentries disappeared behind emplacements. Ostapenko's hand flew to his 349. "Legion, this is Obelisk, I have unknown hostiles engaging a PDF Wolfhound on the run from the target building. Please advise."

A new voice spoke in Ostapenko's ear. "Err… Obelisk, Legion. Which target building are you referring to? Over."

"The Vekaria."

"Which district is that?"

"Lower Gorev—look, get me the actual. I need to speak to the actual."

"Er, Legion Actual is unavailable at this time."

Ostapenko peeped through his optic. Figures in a mish-mash of civilian and military clothing poured from the trees. Rifles popped and automatics stuttered. RPGs bucked on shoulders. "Legion, are you starting your attack? I've got Spartacists rolling up on the PDF, right now."

"I've received no attack order from the actual. Could you be imagining it, Obelisk?"

"So, it's imaginary bullets making holes in that truck then?" Ostapenko swung his crosshairs up to the silent roadblock. "I'm not seeing anything from the PDF. Get me the actual."

"Obelisk, negative. Legion Actual is unavailable at this time."

"Well, get me somebody that knows what the fuck is going on. Out." Ostapenko swung back to the Wolfhound. Spartacists swarmed the smoking vehicle, pulled open the doors and hauled three bodies out. You, my friends, are about to have a very bad morning.

"Obelisk, Uniform Five-Niner. What the fuck's going on out there?"

Ulman? Ostapenko dug the 349 handset in to his ear. "Five-Niner, are there any Legion callsigns senior to yours at your location? I am observing Spartacists engaging PDF on the Vekaria causeway. Please advise."

"Negative, Obelisk."

"Are we attacking?"

"Negative. Tell me exactly what's happening."

"Spartacists ambushed a Wolfhound egressing from the target building. They have three prisoners—all PDF."

"Any response from the garrison?"

"Negative." Clothing fragments flew in to the air. A half-naked body was hoisted above shoulders. "Please advise. I require—" Ostapenko gripped the Zsanett and nudged it slightly to the right. Another prisoner, stripped to his waist, tumbled on to his side in the midst of the Spartacists. A flung foot whipped his head back. A rifle butt sunk in to his stomach. Ostapenko opened up the portable cogitator sitting on the blanket beside the Zsanett. A facial profile covered the screen. He snatched a second glance through his optic at the prisoner. It's him. No question.

"Hello, Obelisk?"

"Legion, Legion, I have a priority-one target in my sights. Larn, A. Request permission to engage. I have a shot." Ostapenko settled his crosshairs on the target's body. The Zsanett's rangefinder read 1350. Ostapenko's eyes flicked across to his targeting aid. Two-mils right. Wind, three-quarter value. "I have a shot. I have a shot."

"Ost, I cannot grant the authorisation to engage."

"If only you could see what I can. Our number one target." Ostapenko clicked his windage dial. "Finally getting everything he deserves."

"Do not take that fucking shot, Ost."

Ostapenko dug a chewy sweet from his open pack. Blood poured down the target's forehead and dripped over swollen eyelids. Grease him up, boys. I'll aim for penetration. Ostapenko's finger curled around his trigger.

Turbojets shrieked through Lower Gorev. A black blur whipped across Ostapenko's optic. He jerked his head back and opened both eyes. "Five-Niner, I'm getting my airspace invaded here."

"That'll be Legion."

"What?! What the fuck is Legion doing here?" A Valkyrie swung in and out of Ostapenko's crosshairs. Smoke blasted from rocket pods hanging beneath its wings. Jet trails streaked towards the causeway.

---

Hotel Vekaria

Blue petals drooped in Izuru's fingers. Spirit-bound. She rose from the bed and placed the Aletheia inside a glass on the chest of drawers. Soulmates. Izuru faced the mirror above the drawers. Two tiny blue eyes watched her from around the bathroom door. Long, dark hair fell down the girl's shoulder. Our daughter. Izuru smiled at the child and worked her hair in to a bun. A rattle shot through the glass. Izuru's hands froze. The child whipped back from view. A buzzing crept across the carpet.

Izuru scooped the Moses from the drawer in James's room and shoved it in her waistband. Zalileans hovered on the landing. "Move, move, get back in your rooms!" Izuru barrelled through the idle Zalileans and flew down the central staircase. PDF, jabbering in their bastard tongue, flooded the entrance hall. James's colleagues, some in foliage, were among them.

"You! Get back in your room!" A tall human with a concave scar on his cheek pushed through the PDF and flung a finger at Izuru. "Get back upstairs."

"Where is James?" The chatter died away. Heads turned.

"Q! Where's Q?" A human in a full foliage suit strode in to the entrance hall. "Q!"

"Chief, what have you got?" Q swung away from Izuru.

"Slant-ear." Humans glared at Izuru. One loosed spittle at Izuru's feet. Others muttered in the bastard tongue.

"Thamer and Larn?" Q thrust his head at the chief. "You sure?"

"Yeah, and a specialist too. They've got all three, no question." The chief dragged his rifle sling taut. "D'you want to punch out?"

"Yeah, grab your ammo and meet back here in five." Q clapped the chief on the shoulder.

"Right. Heid, Coort?" The others humans in foliage trotted after the chief.

"I'm going too." Izuru approached Q.

"Get the fuck back in your room." Q's scar twisted. "Butcher."

"Butcher?" A broad-chested human with curly, black hair drew a holstered pistol from his plate carrier and held it at low-ready. Feet shuffled away from Izuru. Trigger-fingers twitched. A few chins wobbled.

"If you want to die with your lover, die," Q said. "We'll bury you together."

"Q…" Q's friend growled.

Izuru's nails dug in to her palms. She took a step towards Q. The lights flickered. Q's friend ran over to the front doors and shouldered his way outside. Mutterings flitted back and forth, all in the bastard tongue. Q, air pouring from his nostrils, paced about the hall, his hands on his hips. Rapid thuds shook the glass doors. Izuru charged after Q's friend. "STOP!" Q lurched after her.

Izuru slipped through the hardbags outside the doors and vaulted a brick wall. Her feet slammed on to stones. Black gull wings cut through the smoke rising from the trees bordering the Vekaria approaches. PDF bolted in to the trees, discarding weapons and helmets. Others cowered behind their barricades. Izuru gripped the Moses lefthanded and bounded away from the hotel. Tripwire. Izuru lifted her feet over a hair-thin wire stretching between two trees. Sharp bangs echoed through the trees. Rounds whipped past Izuru. Oh, Gods, no. Moaning humans clawed at the churned-up road and dragged their mutilated bodies out of craters slick with bloody flesh and bone. Ferrocrete chunks, embedded in trees, burned away the bark. Charred leaves crackled beneath Izuru's feet.

Blood clung to a Wolfhound wheels-down in a ditch twenty feet from the road. Broken branches lay upon its roof and crumpled nose. Tree splinters spattered the far side and shot in to the air. Izuru dived at the Wolfhound's flank and raised the Moses above the roof. A blunt-nosed gunship screamed overhead.

"Friendly, friendly!" Bloodied hands appeared beneath the Wolfhound's chassis. Izuru swung the Moses down and fired. The hands flew back under the chassis.

"Where is he?" Izuru dropped and pointed the Moses at a human choked in bandages. Blood stained the gauze pink. "WHERE?"

"I don't know!"

Izuru seized a wrist and dragged the human out. "Tell me!" Twisted the human's arm and laid her boot on his neck.

"He's coming—" Spittle seeped from between the human's gritted teeth. "—He's coming back."

Rounds pinged off the Wolfhound's body. Izuru let go of the human, swung around the corner, and pumped the Moses' trigger. Hunched over, she ran across to bodies lying at the roadside. "James!" Smoke seared Izuru's eyes. Rounds punched flesh. Her toes smacked a long tube with a flared end. Izuru stuffed the Moses in her trousers and rolled a body off a rocket launcher.

Above a tall monument at the far end of the road, the gunship levelled its wings and dipped its nose. Izuru rushed back to the Wolfhound, hefted the tube on her shoulder, and curled her middle finger around the trigger. Rounds stitched paths through the trees. Rocket propellant blasted Izuru's face. Metal screeched and tore. The gunship dipped its wing and soared away. Fragments spilled from its mangled chin.

"No, a dud!" The bandaged human wriggled out from underneath the Wolfhound. "A fucking dud!" The tube slid from Izuru's shoulder. A bare arm stuck up from a pile of bodies.

"James!" Izuru wrenched a perforated torso from the pile and rolled it off a bruised, half-naked body. Bright lumps dotted James's forehead. Swollen skin covered his right eye. Blood shone on his cheeks. "James." Izuru eased James's head upright.

"Could do with some Kemerald, right now," James rasped.

"Hah." Izuru plunged her mouth on to James's. James's fingers dug in to her cheek.

"Mm, Thay. Where's Thay?"

"Thay?" Izuru twisted. "Thay!"

"James! You in one piece, boet?"

"Yeah, boet." James bobbed his head. "I can walk."

"Can you walk?" Izuru's gripped James's shoulder.

"I can walk. Help Thay—help Thay!" James clamped his hand on his ribs and coughed up blood.

"Okay." Izuru scrambled over to Thay. "Thay, give me your arms. Can you stand?" She dragged Thay's arm around her shoulders and propped him up against the Wolfhound.

"Yeah." A vein bulged in Thay's forehead.

"James, can you—?"

Blood spurted from James's body. He stumbled forwards, clutched at ragged holes torn in his chest, then toppled sideways. A gunshot echoed through the district.

---

Nitzana Tower

Crack, two, three, four, five. A faint pink cloud burst from the target's chest. He managed a single step before collapsing. "Hit." Ostapenko eased the Zsanett's chamber open. "Target down." A casing spat from the chamber. "Five-Niner, Obelisk. Target is down. Over."

"Obelisk, Five-Niner. I c—I copy your traffic."

The woman aiding the wounded trooper by the Wolfhound spun. Her mouth flew open. Lips drew back from her teeth. Cords stood out in her neck. The last scream you'll ever make, slant-ear. Ostapenko rechambered. Xenos, female, tall, dark. He swept through his database.

"Five-Niner, I have positive ID on the Lutufeyo Killer. Please confirm kill or capture order. Over."

"Err, Legion here. Wait one."

"Legion, I have a shot."Ostapenko's crosshairs followed the xenos gathering the primary target up in her arms. Two birds with one stone, here. "I have a shot." The xenos bore the primary target behind the Wolfhound. "No shot."

"Obelisk, Legion. Legion Actual is down. Displace from your current location and consolidate on his position. Grid reference to follow. Over."

"Legion, please confirm kill or capture order on Lutufeyo Killer. I have PID."

"Obelisk, Legion. Standby for new tasking."

Shit. Ostapenko caught the xenos and the wounded trooper bearing a stretcher in to the woods. He withdrew his eye from his optic and set the Zsanett's safety. "Roger. Standing by for new tasking. Over."

---

James's body bounced. His head lolled. "Friendlies! Friendlies!" Blood ran down Thay's wrists.

Branches whipped Izuru. Thorns pricked her leg. Hold on, James, hold on.

"Thay!" A human in a foliage suit crashed through a bush.

"Youness, James is down!"

"Where is he hit?" Youness slid down a short slope to them.

"He took a round to the chest. Don't go out in the open, there's a shooter covering the road. High calibre weapon."

"Fuck!" Youness brought a suppressed rifle to his shoulder. "This is Youness. Shmulik, do you read? James is down. Thay's bringing him in. Call Phang and have him send for medevac."

"Will you move?!" Izuru shouted. Thay groaned and blundered on up to the PDF's positions.

"Cowards!" Thay launched spit at an abandoned ring of hardbags beneath the hotel. "Won't even defend their own fucking city—FRIENDLY!" Thay hoisted his end of the stretcher up some steps. Izuru heaved her end up to her shoulders. "We're coming in!"

Hands pulled the front door inwards. Thay steered James inside the entrance hall. Half a dozen PDF remained, along with Q and the chief's men.

"They shot him! They shot him and you did nothing!"

Q, cradling a receiver in his ear, leaned out of a cubicle. "You'd prefer if I called the meatwagon for your boyfriend, then, instead of a medevac?"

"Chief, Youness is out there alone." Thay ran over to the humans in their foliage suits. "Come on, there are Spartacists everywhere!"

"D'you want to bleed out for a slant-ear, Thay?" The chief muttered. "Look at yourself."

"Fuck you—fuck all of you!" Thay surged out of the entrance hall and along the corridors to the dance hall. Soles squeaked on the polished floor. Thay ducked inside a tent. "Okay, set him down—down!"

"Alright, what do we have?" A human in a stained t-shirt and a sports cap swept a long table clear. Blue gloves covered his hands.

"Shot to the chest—high calibre weapon." Thay dug his hands beneath James's ankles. "Where d'you want him, sir?"

"Up on here."

"Are you a healer?" Izuru cupped James's armpits and lifted him on to the table.

"Surgeon. If you want to help, put some gloves on and do everything I say."

"Shmulik, what can I do?" Thay's hands trembled.

"Render yourself aid. C'mon, Thay, you're in the way!" Shmulik shooed Thay away. "How long has he been bleeding out for?"

"Er, seven, eight minutes."

"Okay." Shmulik dove inside an emergency bag and brought out a coiled, plastic tube and an IV bag. "See that hook up there? Uncoil this and hang it up. Give me the needle."

"Is he breathing?" Izuru hung the bag up and fed the needle down to Shmulik.

"Wouldn't be doing this if he'd already flatlined." Shmulik tore an adhesive cover from a white strip and laid it on James's chest then pushed the needle through. "Is it flowing?"

Izuru squeezed a flow valve. Solution surged down the tube. "Yes."

"Boots, socks, trousers—everything off. Check for bleeds."

Dirtied socks and combats piled on the floor. Izuru ran her hands up and down James's legs and beneath his buttocks. "Nothing." Identity disks fell from his boots. "O-minus…?" Izuru picked the disks off the floor.

"O-neg!" Thay swung upright from another table. "I'm O-neg."

"You've lost too much already, Thay." Shmulik pressed a mask attached to a resuscitator to James's face and squeezed the bag. "Compress, for me."

Izuru crossed her hands above James's heart. "What about the bullet fragments?"

"I can't perform surgery on him here. Closest trauma unit is down at Brunzmann. The most we can do is stabilise and await medevac."

"How long?"

"Don't know—compress!" Izuru pumped her hands on James's chest. Shmulik worked the bag. "Talk to him! Keep a rhythm going."

"Er…"

"Let him hear your voice."

"Okay, er…" James's blood stuck to Izuru's palms. "I am here, James. The next bullet that comes. I will be between you and it." Izuru's lungs burned. "I will not lose you a second time."

"Keep on it. You're doing great!"

"If only you could see what I see. She'll have your eyes, your beautiful, blue eyes." Izuru's skin prickled. Numbness sapped her body. Barbs peeled away the membrane surrounding James's consciousness. Prongs plunged through passageways. James's chest bucked. His breath fogged the mask.

"God-Emperor!" The colour sapped from Shmulik's cheeks. "Your eyes."

"James." Izuru laid her hand on James's forehead. "I'm here."

"Thay, I need everyone with O-neg blood in here. Get me an ETA on the medevac too."

Thay, freshly-bandaged, slipped off his table. "Everyone with O-neg, got it."

"What about you?" Shmulik looked at Izuru.

"Sorry. Anything else I can do—anything—I will." Sticky fingers touched Izuru's trouserleg. She swooped down on James and laid her brow on his. "You are the root of all my happiness." Izuru's fingers curled through James's.

---

Sore and aching, Loay Thamer staggered back to the entrance hall. "Q?"

Phang hovered in a booth, his hand clutching a receiver. No-one else occupied the hall. "Yessir, understood." He hung the receiver in a bracket and backed out. "Stand down, Thay."

"Q, James needs blood—"

"What part of stand down can't you wrap your head around? From the Admiral's own mouth—we are stood down. I'm recalling the teams. We're out of here, soonest." Phang's mouth twisted. "Finally wash our hands of these xenos..."

"Q, anybody with O-negative blood—"

"—Can wait!" Phang seated an earpiece.

"Q, I'm not the one asking for blood. If we don't stabilise, James will die."

"Should've thought about that before he fucked that slant-eared frump, shouldn't he? Chief, round up your shooters. We are RTB."

"Medevac?"

"Not coming. Prep James for transportation. We're taking him out, first."

"Q, is it?" The ambassador, at the head of Zalileans and blueskins, came down the stairs. "May we speak?"

"Ma'am, keep your people in their rooms. You too, Blueskin." Q steered Loay back towards the dance hall.

"That's good, Q." Loay's feet slipped over the tiles. "Look 'em in the eye and wish them well."

"Load our ammo aboard the Wolfhounds. Any Lutus you find, drag them downstairs to help. I'll round up the others out the front—go!" Phang shunted Thay away.

"Q?" The ambassador and her followers swarmed Phang.

"Phang—now, listen!" Phang held up his hands. "Listen! My immediate senior has ordered the withdrawal of all PDF and Naval elements from this position. Please, all of you, remain in your rooms. A civil affairs representative will be arriving to take charge of your resettlement later today. I am sorry."

"Insincerity drips from your tongue, human," said the blueskin ambassador. "A speaker, you are not."

"Sir, I am a soldier. I have my people to care for, you have yours, and yours, Ambassador Galah-Shah." Phang pushed through the xenos. "Make way, make way!" Wails and warbles screeched in his ears. Blue and white hands pawed at his sleeves.

"Human!" The ambassador struggled through the crowd after Phang. "This is not a resettlement. This is a cleansing."

"Be thinking about your people now, madam." Phang strode in to the dance hall and entered a tent. "Captain, how's he looking?"

Bright blood slathered Shmulik's hands. James lay naked on a table. Gauze circled his upper torso. The Butcher kneeled beside him cradling his bloody hands. "Are you O-negative?" Shmulik straightened the IV tubing. "C'mon, Q, James needs blood."

"No. Back on the stretcher, now." Q snapped his fingers. "You, Butcher, help carry him downstairs."

"What have you done…?" The ambassador swept the tent flap back. "Izuru, what have you done?"

"Living up to her name." Phang barged past the ambassador. "Come on!"

"Q, if we put James in a Hound, he will die. He stays."

"James is my team." Phang stabbed a finger at his plate carrier. "My responsibility—not yours! Your men ran—"

"—Did they?"

"—they ran without a shot fired! D'you want to be here when Urgraf and Shimago roll in?"

"Okay, I'll do what I can for him in the Hound." Shmulik dragged an emergency bag on his shoulders and took the IV bag from its hook. "Xenos, hold this, keep it upright." Shmulik unfolded a hooked stand and clamped it to James's stretcher. "Hook it on."

"Gods, you are really doing it." The ambassador cupped an elbow and bit her thumbnail.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Shmulik said. "James is VSI—he has to go, now!"

Phang led the stretcher-bearers downstairs to the PDF's Wolfhounds waiting in the hotel's carpark. Five of the original eight had already left and the remaining three were unoccupied. "Slide him in the back." Phang unlatched a Wolfhound's rear hatch and lifted it. James's stretcher clattered across the tray. "You okay to drive, Cap?"

"Like stink." Shmulik hopped in the driver's side and twisted the ignition. Phang dropped the hatch and backed off. The Butcher held her blood-encrusted hands out at chest height. Her lips moved.

"Get the fuck out of my sight." The Wolfhound rumbled over to a spiralling ramp. "That's his blood on your hands, Butcher." Phang left the Butcher down in the silent carpark. He met the ambassador coming down the stairs.

"Is she still here?" The ambassador flattened herself against the wall.

"She's your problem now, madam." Phang stomped past her. "Maybe a shorter leash, next time."

---

Setsiba's feet pattered down the steps. "Izuru?" Setsiba clutched a shawl at her neck.A pale, bloody figure traipsed along the empty spaces. Damp, tangled strands of hair stuck to Izuru's cheeks. Setsiba gathered her shawl and draped it over Izuru's shoulders and brought her over to the steps.

"Setsiba!" Zalileans mobbed Setsiba in the hall.

"Ambassador, what are we going to do?"

"Will they ship us off-world?"

"Are they going to kill us?"

"I have a child upstairs!"

"Zalilean?" The Tau speaker stepped in front of Setsiba. "Let us confer."

"If it's not about peppermint tea or a wrap, I am not interested." Setsiba, her hands on Izuru's shoulders, carried on through the crowd.

A kettle wheezed on a worktop. Setsiba placed a wrap inside a microwave and dropped teabags in to a pair of mugs. "Okay, tea, tea, tea." Voices buzzed outside the breakroom. "I always thought it a Zalilean custom, offering tea in times of grief." Setsiba turned. A bare-metal slugthrower drooped in Izuru's hands. She hunched over in an armchair. Mucus oozed down her upper lip. Setsiba edged over and laid her palm on the slugthrower's body. Shiny patches coated Izuru's cheeks. The slugthrower swung downwards and Setsiba picked Izuru's fingers away from the rough grips. Round chambered, hammer back, safety off. Setsiba safetied and tucked the slugthrower in behind her belt.

"Seems we are not so different, after all." Two teabags dripped over the edge of a spoon and slid from it in to a bin. The microwave dinged. "There are those that say dry bread works a hangover in their favour." Setsiba dug the steaming wrap out and set it on a plate. "There are also those that microwave their milk and add tap water." A knife sliced the wrap in half. "And take their wraps cold." Setsiba brought the plate and the mugs over to a low table. She sliced open a packet of tissues and offered Izuru one. A fist thumped on the door. "Excuse me."

"Madam Ambassador?" A human choked in bandages, a slung rifle on his chest, held out a paper scrap with a number scribbled on it. "We are just about to leave."

Setsiba laid her hand on the doorframe. "Not a chance you might stay?"

"Not unless the Admiral changes his mind. That number calls the Victrix."

"The—the newspaper?"

"Any mistreatment at Urgraf or Shimago's hands, ring that number and tell them who you are and what they did. You'll have the headline on every newspaper in Orsolya, if not Haven."

Setsiba closed her fist around the number. "Thank you. Could I ask your name, human?"

"Thamer, Loay Thamer."

"Er, the young one—James…?"

The faint colour in Loay Thamer's face sapped completely. Setsiba's fingers flew to her lips. "Good luck, ma'am."

Gods. Setsiba fell in to the chair opposite Izuru. Her face tipped in to her hands. "I fucked this up."

"I fucked this up." Izuru crushed a soggy tissue.

"I am responsible for the actions of all Eldar on this planet, not only Zalilean. We stared one another down across a chasm, a warrior to a tutor. I just couldn't find the strength to bridge it." Setsiba pushed the wrap away. "If I could only see the Prophet and ask her why—why?"

"Why give me this disease." Mucus snorted in Izuru's nose. Her shoulders rose and her head fell in her hand. "I gave you this disease—gave it to Orsolya." Circular identity disks, hanging from a chain, clinked in Izuru's hand.

---

A ceramite perching on his head, Loay Thamer slouched in the Wolfhound's passenger seat beside Coortland. His earpiece crackled. "Any sign of that sniper?"

"Negative. Be vigilant."

Loay twisted the soft plastic out and let it dangle down his shoulder. Bodies, intact and in pieces, littered the cratered road. Coortland braked and weaved through the smoking, blackened arms and legs sticking up in to the air. "Damn, Urgraf couldn't wait to jump the gun, could they." Coortland bumped the Wolfhound over a half-buried torso. Bone splintered and crunched inwards. "Wish they'd saved this for the xenos."

The three Wolfhounds drove past the monument and made the descent to the gates. Glass crackled beneath tyres. Shredded cloth spiralled across the wrecked streets. Vermin nibbled at corpses. Brakelights glinted and the Wolfhound ahead of Loay's pulled over at the side of the street.

"Urgraf." Coortland slid his window down and stuck his elbow out. "Come to pick up the bill."

"Happy cleansing!" Heiding, up in the Wolfhound's turret, waved at a convoy of four-wheeled Agro armoured carriers trundling towards the idling vehicles. "Give 'em one from the lads!"

"Yeah—?" Coortland touched his earpiece. He looked across at Loay. "Roger."

"Coort?" Youness leaned forwards in the seat behind Loay.

"The boy didn't make it." Coortland tugged the slack from his Volg's sling. "Just heard from Phang."

A bubble rose in Loay's throat. He lurched upright and pressed his earpiece in. Youness's hand found Loay's shoulder. "Q, can you confirm?"

"No tags, nothing. The description matches, Yoo."

"Well, that's unconfirmed, then," Youness growled. "Crawl on your knees to Shmulik and beg him for positive ID first." Youness's hand squeezed. "How dare he. How fucking dare he!" Loay's limp hand came up to Youness's. "God-Emperor, God-Emperor."

The Agros scraped past the Hounds. Loay's chin trembled. Coortland passed a cigarette over. "Tug on that."

"Q, disregard that," Youness said. "I'll check when we're there."

"We're not going back to the stadium."

"Why?"

"New orders, Yoo."

Loay tipped his ceramite off and jiggled the door handle. He stumbled around to the Wolfhound's rear bumper. Noxious fumes soured his tightening throat. "Come on, Loay." Youness took hold of Loay's plate carrier and manoeuvred him back inside the Wolfhound. The last of Urgraf's vehicles cleared the Wolfhounds.

"Hasn't been this quiet for weeks." Coortland crawled after Phang's vehicle. "Hear anything up there, Heid?"

"A hungover city waking up from a week-long bender—what do you think I hear?"

Aid workers in bright overalls and helmets clambered over a collapsed manufactorum on the edge of Lower Gorev. Civilians queued in two lines before a collection of tents laid out on rubbish-strewn parkland. Behind the tents, more workers offloaded aid packages from lorries.

Armsmen whisked the Wolfhounds through the front gates at Granbo. Bipedal loaders, bearing supplies on pallets, stomped from warehouses and laid their loads inside empty lorries. Forklifts rolled supplies from the open chins of gigantic Narat haulers squatting on landing pads. Loay's head listed. His dry hands sat in his lap.

"AIC. Last stop, gentlemen." The Wolfhounds halted in a semi-circle outside the low building. Loay stepped out in to the early-morning light and trudged after Phang and the others. Youness threw his arm around Loay's shoulders and patted. Inside the hallway, four tables stood together lengthways. A senior non-commissioned officer waited nearby. The six divested themselves of their ammunition and laid personal weapons, ceramite, and body armour on the tables. Half a dozen chairs, laid out in a hall, ringed a dead projector screen. On each chair was a bound file.

Loay slumped. Youness and Phang picked their files up and sat on either side of him. Chief Gevers, Heiding, and Coortland opened theirs and balanced them on knees. "Ho! Chief Coortland." A grinning Coortland swept pages back. "Another eight-thousand on my annual—thank you, so much!"

"Heh-heh, are we all one rung up—huh?" Heiding peered along the seated. "Yeah, I can see that smirk, Q."

"Shuddup, Heiding." Chief Gevers closed his file and dug a cigarette out. "We're being kicked upstairs for a reason."

"That's a cushy billet if I've ever seen one." Coortland offered the chief a lighter. "Easy posting, easy women."

"Yoo, Loay?" Phang leaned over to Loay. "WO Thamer?"

Youness tilted his head back, made eye contact with Phang, and shook his head. "Staff Sergeant, eighteen-month-long posting, Kustoj System… wherever the fuck that is."

"Far from here, my friend. I think we are all bound for different systems." Phang pushed a pen nub in to his fingertip then added his signature to a dotted line. "Anyone in need of a pen?" The pen jumped down the line to the chief then returned to Phang. "Okay." Phang seized the back of Loay's head and moved his mouth to Loay's ear. "Here's our clean way out. I'm not playing with anyone else's dirty laundry anymore. James is gone, now leave with your fucking head held high." Phang let go of Loay's head. "Bit on the queasy end, this morning. Anyone fancy giving blood to Warrant Officer Thamer?"

"Don't worry, pal, it's not officer blood." Heiding guffawed.

"Oh, guys…?" The chief moved his chair back. A uniformed Spec-5 entered the hall.

"Is there a Warrant Officer Phang here?"

"I am Phang."

"Follow me, Warrant Officer. Your ship is waiting."

"Shit, that was quick." Youness helped Loay up. "Shower and a shave, nope, not even that."

Hatches unbuttoned, a mammoth Tetrarch lander, linked up to conveyor belts, disgorged supplies in to a warehouse. In the lander's shadow, the six hopped off a trolley and hoisted packs on shoulders and walked towards a ladder rising inside the neck. Youness took Loay's pack off his shoulder and slung it beside his. "Did good for ourselves, Loay." Youness's lips disappeared inside his beard. Sharp wrinkles cut the corners of his eyes. "We're starting afresh."

Loay's foot touched the lowest rung. Above his head, the other four clambered inside the hatch and disappeared. Not all of us.